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Description
17 AP to Cricket (1 shaded full-body, 1 shaded head-shot, 1 full background, same character bonus, 752 word written literature, developmental bonus)
Two headed boy
All floating in glass
The sun it has passed
Now it's blacker than black
I can hear as you tap on your jar
I am listening to hear where you are
I am listening to hear where you are
The sun it has passed
Now it's blacker than black
I can hear as you tap on your jar
I am listening to hear where you are
I am listening to hear where you are
Two headed boy
Put on sunday shoes
And dance round the room to accordion keys
With the needle that sings in your heart
Catching signals that sound in the dark
Catching signals that sound in the dark
-Jeff Magnum
--
The sun felt like it had faded quicker that day, and by now, the outside atmosphere was not only layered in crunchy snow, but a drastic lack of light. If one could manage to see while maneuvering outdoors, their luck would be up to any reflecting moonlight that bounced off the white ground. And the sky was cloudy. So even that was minimal.
Inside was lit with gold and orange hues as light from simple candle flames and the lapping stone fireplace bounced around the large home.
The twins caught a mere ray of that echoing flame as it crept in through their cracked wooden door. The room was small so it lit up a good portion, at least on the floor where they were curled in blankets. It wasn’t their room because they normally had to share that and their father wanted them separated for the night.
Newt, who at the time, had yet to even earn their nickname, would normally adore the option to use one of the quiet spare rooms, but tonight it felt toxic. There had been a lot of screaming earlier, between their father and some brothers, but they’d hardly heard it. Empty noise drowned out by their own choking sobs, ones they tried to stifle, but their tears continued to win. Cricket’s unresponsiveness to it all brought them the most grief.
He was bloody and bruised, but the worst part was when he fell out of consciousness. He’d been in and out without much rhythm for the past few hours, and that scared Newt terribly. He was curled around their chest in crumpled exhaustion, right in front of their nose, but he didn’t really feel here, and no amount of gentle prodding or whispered words seemed to bring him back once he’d fallen too deep. He’d have to do it himself. And in those unbearable frames of eerie silence, the only normal reassurance Newt could gain from their brother was sobbing into his neck.
Cricket felt tired and dull, and his steady, dragging heartbeat was in competition with his twin’s who was hitching drastically in time with their uneven breath. Uneven, but quick, and threatening to burst. The limited space between them felt empty, and Newt felt alone. A feeling foreign and frightening to a child truly glued to their gallant sibling.
The only time they were relieved of the feeling was when their father waded into the room every thirty minutes or so to look Cricket up and down and pet their heads in a way that only mimicked Newt’s normal form of comfort. And they preferred their brother.
“Kelley.” They could hear their father’s quiet voice even though they weren’t looking at him. “I’ve already told you to stop, leave your brother be.” His tone was small and gentle out of pity, but still firm. It merely made their lip tremble, and squeeze their green eyes tighter, a head buried in Cricket’s similar chocolate mane.
Newt heard a gruff sigh before more words that processed poorly in ringing ears, “he needs to rest. And so do you. Lay your head down, please.” They didn’t move, but a hiccuping cry managed to escape their throat before they could even strive to prevent it. There was a pause before Newt could feel a slow, telekinesis grasp wedge quietly between the side of their forehead and their brother’s warm being. In a moment of cooing and a steady hand, their head was brought back down to their green blanket, in line with their brother’s, a mirror-like effect created between identical twins.
“Go to sleep, Kel. He will be better by morning.” Newt’s eyelids were still glued with accumulating tears and blurred vision, but they managed to adjust their position enough until they could nuzzle up to the side of Cricket’s cheek and front, splayed cannon bone.
Their father stayed with a watchful eye for another few minutes, until he’d realized the child would wear themself of tears eventually, and stood to step out of the little room and tend to the crackling fire, another brush of their individual forelocks before the door slid shut.
A single, dreary right eye opened at the silence, and Newt couldn’t help but wriggle closer to their twin until his brown curls toppled over their neck just the way they did his own.
“I’m so sorry, Kala.” cracked a heartbreakingly small voice echoed in small sobs, “you’ll be better by the morning, I promise” but their protector had already succumbed to silence.
WC: 752
Oof, well, that was a trip. This may be a bit out of context if you're not familiar with these two BUT! long story short, when you have twelve older argumentative brothers, and quite a bit of free reign, brawls end up breaking out pretty often. At least in their household. In particular, this one got much too out of hand, resulting in an excessively traumatic injury to Cricket's head, leading to much of the problems he still, currently deals with. This takes place when they are around seven (I know I'm bad at drawing foals), and they're nineteen now.
As for why I marked this as a developmental piece; it's a massive turning-point in both of the twins' stories and lives. For one, Cricket is subjected to a traumatic brain injury, that never fully heals. He goes from the braver boy who continues to stand up for his wimp of a twin, to a fragile shell of an adolescent with ridiculous migraines and unstable emotions. In turn, Newt, who at such a young age struggled more with their physical deformity and disability, quickly had their idolized, protecting brother snatched from them within a single day. So instead, they were forced to buck up and learn to defend Cricket the same way he did them. What an emotional roller-coaster.
ALSO! This event is primarily what spurred their nicknames, as Cricket hardly said a thing for months after it took place. And Newt... Well, they may have earned their's either way.
but bonus trivia in case you hadn't noticed on their refs and are confused, Cricket's "real" name is Kala, Newt's is Kelley. I know. Very different than what they are, huh.
I've wanted to draw most of their story in arcs since I've first started working on the twins and I've finally gotten around to it so enjoy this piece of purely self-indulgent art??
and yes this is just the aftermath of the incident, I wasn't sure I was up for drawing and writing about the actual fight/gorey result because I'm not a cold-blooded monster. But here are some warm, moody colors, and much tears.
My backgrounds have such a long way to go........ actually my full pieces in general.
Put on sunday shoes
And dance round the room to accordion keys
With the needle that sings in your heart
Catching signals that sound in the dark
Catching signals that sound in the dark
-Jeff Magnum
--
The sun felt like it had faded quicker that day, and by now, the outside atmosphere was not only layered in crunchy snow, but a drastic lack of light. If one could manage to see while maneuvering outdoors, their luck would be up to any reflecting moonlight that bounced off the white ground. And the sky was cloudy. So even that was minimal.
Inside was lit with gold and orange hues as light from simple candle flames and the lapping stone fireplace bounced around the large home.
The twins caught a mere ray of that echoing flame as it crept in through their cracked wooden door. The room was small so it lit up a good portion, at least on the floor where they were curled in blankets. It wasn’t their room because they normally had to share that and their father wanted them separated for the night.
Newt, who at the time, had yet to even earn their nickname, would normally adore the option to use one of the quiet spare rooms, but tonight it felt toxic. There had been a lot of screaming earlier, between their father and some brothers, but they’d hardly heard it. Empty noise drowned out by their own choking sobs, ones they tried to stifle, but their tears continued to win. Cricket’s unresponsiveness to it all brought them the most grief.
He was bloody and bruised, but the worst part was when he fell out of consciousness. He’d been in and out without much rhythm for the past few hours, and that scared Newt terribly. He was curled around their chest in crumpled exhaustion, right in front of their nose, but he didn’t really feel here, and no amount of gentle prodding or whispered words seemed to bring him back once he’d fallen too deep. He’d have to do it himself. And in those unbearable frames of eerie silence, the only normal reassurance Newt could gain from their brother was sobbing into his neck.
Cricket felt tired and dull, and his steady, dragging heartbeat was in competition with his twin’s who was hitching drastically in time with their uneven breath. Uneven, but quick, and threatening to burst. The limited space between them felt empty, and Newt felt alone. A feeling foreign and frightening to a child truly glued to their gallant sibling.
The only time they were relieved of the feeling was when their father waded into the room every thirty minutes or so to look Cricket up and down and pet their heads in a way that only mimicked Newt’s normal form of comfort. And they preferred their brother.
“Kelley.” They could hear their father’s quiet voice even though they weren’t looking at him. “I’ve already told you to stop, leave your brother be.” His tone was small and gentle out of pity, but still firm. It merely made their lip tremble, and squeeze their green eyes tighter, a head buried in Cricket’s similar chocolate mane.
Newt heard a gruff sigh before more words that processed poorly in ringing ears, “he needs to rest. And so do you. Lay your head down, please.” They didn’t move, but a hiccuping cry managed to escape their throat before they could even strive to prevent it. There was a pause before Newt could feel a slow, telekinesis grasp wedge quietly between the side of their forehead and their brother’s warm being. In a moment of cooing and a steady hand, their head was brought back down to their green blanket, in line with their brother’s, a mirror-like effect created between identical twins.
“Go to sleep, Kel. He will be better by morning.” Newt’s eyelids were still glued with accumulating tears and blurred vision, but they managed to adjust their position enough until they could nuzzle up to the side of Cricket’s cheek and front, splayed cannon bone.
Their father stayed with a watchful eye for another few minutes, until he’d realized the child would wear themself of tears eventually, and stood to step out of the little room and tend to the crackling fire, another brush of their individual forelocks before the door slid shut.
A single, dreary right eye opened at the silence, and Newt couldn’t help but wriggle closer to their twin until his brown curls toppled over their neck just the way they did his own.
“I’m so sorry, Kala.” cracked a heartbreakingly small voice echoed in small sobs, “you’ll be better by the morning, I promise” but their protector had already succumbed to silence.
WC: 752
Oof, well, that was a trip. This may be a bit out of context if you're not familiar with these two BUT! long story short, when you have twelve older argumentative brothers, and quite a bit of free reign, brawls end up breaking out pretty often. At least in their household. In particular, this one got much too out of hand, resulting in an excessively traumatic injury to Cricket's head, leading to much of the problems he still, currently deals with. This takes place when they are around seven (I know I'm bad at drawing foals), and they're nineteen now.
As for why I marked this as a developmental piece; it's a massive turning-point in both of the twins' stories and lives. For one, Cricket is subjected to a traumatic brain injury, that never fully heals. He goes from the braver boy who continues to stand up for his wimp of a twin, to a fragile shell of an adolescent with ridiculous migraines and unstable emotions. In turn, Newt, who at such a young age struggled more with their physical deformity and disability, quickly had their idolized, protecting brother snatched from them within a single day. So instead, they were forced to buck up and learn to defend Cricket the same way he did them. What an emotional roller-coaster.
ALSO! This event is primarily what spurred their nicknames, as Cricket hardly said a thing for months after it took place. And Newt... Well, they may have earned their's either way.
but bonus trivia in case you hadn't noticed on their refs and are confused, Cricket's "real" name is Kala, Newt's is Kelley. I know. Very different than what they are, huh.
I've wanted to draw most of their story in arcs since I've first started working on the twins and I've finally gotten around to it so enjoy this piece of purely self-indulgent art??
and yes this is just the aftermath of the incident, I wasn't sure I was up for drawing and writing about the actual fight/gorey result because I'm not a cold-blooded monster. But here are some warm, moody colors, and much tears.
My backgrounds have such a long way to go........ actually my full pieces in general.
Image size
2800x2500px 4.04 MB
© 2018 - 2024 kaiuhh
Comments33
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Absolutely love your work, this is so well done and aaaaah 
they are precious
they are precious