refinedlobotomy

Latest Posts by refinedlobotomy

au where they're happy and it's okay

never thought i’d be caught making religious fanart but jesus from judas iscariot film has captured my little heart

martin crocheted the blanket

@jonsimsandcats

Your dead husband suddenly shows up at your door. He looks the same, speaks the same, holding him feels the same, but it's not really him. He's just a few degrees off, a handful of different choices removed from the man you knew. He doesn't know you, he knows a different you. He's standing right there but there's an entire universe between you. But even though you know he's not really the man you loved you beg him to stay because someone who's almost him is better than being all alone.

My illustration of @lisellelascelles 's fic, Weary is my brow beneath the crown for Thorin's Spring Forge 2025! I really enjoyed this event, and feel honored that my art can accompany such beautiful writing!! You can find more of their work here ☆

My illustration of @lisellelascelles 's fic, Weary is my brow beneath the crown for Thorin's Spring Forge 2025! just a little soggy is all. You can find more of their work here ☆

My illustration of @evadne01 's fic, It's all yours for Thorin's Spring Forge 2025! this story is so so cute and i had a wonderful time. You can find more of her work here ☆

@jonmartinweek day nine: "au day"

had to combine the boys with my otp of course

@jonmartinweek day eight: "disability & diagnosis"

i think nightmares would be commonplace with an expanse of knowledge such as jon's.

@jonmartinweek day seven: "ace day" very simple thing i whipped up in an hour because i am Busy. but fear not, more jmart is on the horizon

@jonmartinweek day five: "transformations" i'm really excited for day four but i haven't finished it yet

☆Prints☆

@jonmartinweek day three: "recordings & found footage" an observer intruding on intimate moments.

☆Prints☆

@jonmartinweek day two: "i trust you"

jonmartin week day one: "feelings realized" i imagine this scene taking place sometime early on in the scottish safehouse.. they had a good talk methinks. @jonmartinweek

whatever. their name is naph and there is a beetle colony in their basement.

imagine you had an infection similar to jane prentiss' hive.. a pervasive itch that could never quite be scratched. what if you were being eaten alive and rotting from the inside out. what if you had a partner who loved you through your transformation, who cherished the meat sloughing off your bones; a person who is ultimately devoured by your infestation along with you, when all that's left is the colony. what then.

First post! I'm relistening to this podcast for the fourth time and I still can't get enough of it. Couldn't help myself and drew them

(if colours seem off blame my terrible laptop screen)

(I'm also on insta as @/no.noah.for.lunch)

imagine you had an infection similar to jane prentiss' hive.. a pervasive itch that could never quite be scratched. what if you were being eaten alive and rotting from the inside out. what if you had a partner who loved you through your transformation, who cherished the meat sloughing off your bones; a person who is ultimately devoured by your infestation along with you, when all that's left is the colony. what then.

When Jon rests his weary head on Martin's lap, it feels like the clearest of revelations. The greatest of miracles. The ravaged world stands still – asleep or dead, doesn't matter, nothing matters except for the warmth of the cheek pressed to Martin's knee and the tingling of his stubble through the fabric of his jeans. Jon tosses and turns for a bit, looking for a comfortable position, and finally closes his eyes with a content sigh. The eye bags are growing darker with every passing day, just as the lines on his forehead are growing deeper. The world is at its closest to the end, and still Martin has never felt so in love before.

It seems that everything has been leading them to this moment – Jon in Martin's arms, tired but trusting and dear to him, so dear that his heart aches longingly. Martin reproaches himself for such thoughts and still can't help but thinks that he would let the apocalypse happen again, and again, and again, only to see Jon like this, to hold his hand, their fingers intertwined, to kiss the corner of his lips, to cradle him in his arms at night, hiding from the nightmares.

(They're both broken and crushed by fate, wrong and full of mistakes. Martin doesn't know whether they're going against what is destined, or right where they are supposed to be, whether they're going towards their death or a new life. He has no idea. Or better put it this way: he just follows Jon, no matter where he is heading, the way apostles followed Jesus. He believes him and in him without any doubt and is ready to die for him or with him, if it's necessary. This is how sick and twisted they are. At least, in this universe.

Maybe in another universe they weren't such idiots and found each other earlier. Maybe there Martin can kiss Jon every day and not fear lest this kiss should be their last. Maybe there they can just live – happily ever after, like in those fairytales. Maybe. Martin doesn't know. What he knows is that in this universe, in their universe, the sky is constantly watching them, the earth is soaked with sticky fear and blood, and they are the ones to fix all of this.

In this universe they are a tragedy, but Martin wouldn't change a thing in them for the world.)

“Your thoughts are too loud,” Jon grumbles, a quick green flash in his narrowed eyes. Martin bites his lip. He still forgets that his boyfriend knows and hears absolutely everything, and it is both exciting and unnerving.

“Sorry,” he says. That I think so much, that it seems to me that we have no future, that I believe in you like in God.

Jon finds his hand and presses his cheek against the palm. Martin chokes on his breath, as this act is so simple and yet so gentle that he suddenly wants to cry. (He never considered tears to be a sign of weakness, but he needs to be strong for Jon, so he just sniffles and squeezes his eyes, choking a sob rising in his throat.)

“Martin,” Jon calls out quietly, stretching the vowels in an oh-so-familliar way, and kisses the centre of Martin's palm as if kissing holy relics. No one has ever touched Martin like this. “It's alright, love.”

And just as saints on the icons cry with blood and myrrh, Martin is crying as well, soundlessly and ugly. Jon sits beside him and hugs his shoulders worriedly, kissing him on his temple.

“Martin,” he whispers softly, “my sweet, my dear, I'm here. It's alright, for now it's alright.”

Martin knows that nothing is alright actually, and that they can die tomorrow and no one will remember them. But right now Jon is right beside him, warm, soft and loved, and only this truly matters.

“Oh, Jon,” Martin exhales, his voice trembling, and it sounds more like a prayer.

Maybe, he is praying.

At least, his god will stay with him till the very end and will not leave him to die alone.

codependency

[in a sultry, sexy tone]

hey can you jiggle my mouse

get tractor beamed, idiots

“The kiss” but make it doorkeay

i watched maurice 1987 and

has anyone done this yet

☆Prints☆

Warm and Cozy (Bagginshield mini comics)

I had say it and I will say it again, I have a thing for Thorin cloak. And so have Bilbo x)

if you’re ever sad, just think about hannibal lecter watching and rewinding youtube tutorials on how to fold napkins fancy style. to impress all the people at his fancy dinner parties.

NASA released the clearest pictures yet of our neighbours in the solar system

Oh and of course us

Honourable mention

woo

ohhh i hate it so much i need to strap it to a rocket and launch it into the stratosphere.

somewhere, there exists a memory of that fateful day

//

i somehow managed to delete the entire thing during the lineart phase, but worry not because i redrew him in his shining glory from scratch