My name is Alice (she/her), Bisexual and Scottish. I have anxiety and I also have a massive collection of mini resin animals. I absolutely love Shoot From The Hip and I really hope I could maybe post some fanart.
(Idk how this all works, I just want you to know, you're doing amazing and I hope you have a great day!)
artblock's been kicking my ass so i decided to kick it right back by testing out some of my new markers!! so here is another try at drawing the four brave boys, this time in color :3
closeups and alt version under the cut!
while drawing this piece i was mainly thinking of the boys in battle – kevin's defiance, monty's wolfy rage, edgar's "there it is!" and roland's "bring it on!" so here is a version of the boys a little bloodied :D
I really think is one of the most creative fandoms I’ve been in. Like not only are tons of people creating fan fiction and different types of art, but they are also doing so many different crafts surrounding sfth and just coming up with very creative concepts to show their appreciation. I just think it’s really neat how many how many imaginative voices prosper in this community.
An Improvised SFTH Fanfiction for the 2025 @sfth-improvised-fic challenge
Written by Group 13: @milk-is-stable and @very-confused-alpaca
Summary: Jasper travels in time. Who knows what he'll discover next...
Word Count: 1,676
Read on Ao3 Here
— — —
A bell jingled loudly, causing Jasper to flinch. Doors shouldn't make noise. The future's weird...
Properly looking around this wonky little shop for the first time now, he realised the bell was just the beginning of the weirdness.
Lining the shelves were hundreds of curious items ranging from boxes of chalk and small ceramic animals to colourful hand fans and large plants that scaled the walls. Stuffed animals were stacked in a large heap by the door, whilst glowing amulets rested nearby. A jam-packed umbrella stand reflected the lights of all shapes and sizes that hung down from the ceiling.
Jasper just stood there in awe, gawking at the impressive sight before him. This shop was almost too much to take in.
A sudden stir in the ramshackle room made Jasper turn towards a small man in an oversized nighting-gown, perched on a stool. He was hunched over an incredibly powerful magnifying glass, focusing in on a small green ball with intricate swirls covering it.
But the man was not looking at the ball anymore. He was staring at Jasper. He adjusted his spectacles and looked at Jasper with a piercing gaze, almost as if he was trying to put together a rather difficult puzzle.
After an awkward silence, the man cleared his throat. "Is there anything I can help you with?" He asked, his German accent strong.
"Umm, yes actually, I..." Jasper had not thought this through. What should he ask? Do people talk the same in the future? What if this man finds out that he used magic to get here? What if this man hates magic? What if this man sends him away to be killed? What if-
Shove it. He's only got one shot at this, and he needs to find his father.
"Have you ever heard of the Gray witch of Aberdeen?"
The man's eyes immediately widened. "Margaret Gray? She used to come here all the time."
Jasper gasped. This man knows about his mother. "Yes!" Jasper cleared his throat awkwardly at his sudden show of enthusiasm "Yes. Do you know where I could find out about her? If she had, I don't know, a special relationship with anyone 'round here?"
The small man narrowed his eyes and then scratched his salt and pepper goatee thoughtfully. Jasper knew he had pushed it too far and cursed internally.
The man hopped off of the stool and waddled over to an old door at the far right of the room, hidden between a teetering pile of books and a large carnivorous plant.
"Follow me."
Jasper cautiously stepped forward into what seemed to be the backroom of this shop. Only this seemed to be even more wondrous. The floorboards creaked underneath his feet as he turned around, marvelling at the sheer amount of clocks covering this room. Hundreds, thousands even, hung on the walls, all displaying different times as they ticked to their own individual beats.
"Ah, here it is." Jasper turned to face the man who was now standing near a large stone lectern, ivy climbing up its side in tangled masses. Resting on top of it was a crumbling leather bound book with incredible golden swirls and patterns that almost seemed to interchange every minute.
Unsure of what to do, Jasper glanced back at the man, who just looked him dead in the eye and gave a small, decisive nod.
Jasper reached out slowly with trembling hands. He had no idea what to expect. What exactly did this strange man want him to do?
When his hand was no more than an inch away from the book, an ethereal light swirled around him, sending shivers down his spine. The dust that lay on top of the ancient book flew into the air, merging with the gold engravings to create a ball of glowing light that spiralled around the room. The book rose into the air and stitched itself back together, the collapsing spine straightening, the worn edges sharpening. It almost looked like it was brand new.
Once the book had finished repairing itself, it slowly sank back down to once again, be gently rested on top of the lectern.
"You're Gray's son then." The man said as Jasper slowly drew his hand back, the light fading away.
"Yes." Jasper nodded his head, not feeling the need to say anything more.
"Then there's someone you need to meet."
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Jasper was soaking. Rain hammered down on him as he bolted towards the small lights of houses in the distance. After a particularly bumpy ride through time itself, he'd landed in a stack of soggy hay and managed to anger an extremely short man. Thanks astral plane.
Jasper ran on as the muddy roads turned into cobbled streets. Candles flickered in small windows of half timbered buildings and rickety gutters gushed with the rain water. A couple of abandoned stalls sat out in the street their awning drooping with the weight of the puddles that collected on them.
After a few moments, Jasper finally found what he was looking for.
A small weathered hanging sign slowly swung on its creaky frame, the carved letters gazing down at Jasper from their place on the wall above. Jacob's House of Pub. Sounds decent enough. The small diamond-leaded windows had little banners strung across them that read newly rebuilt, and a warm light shone from within.
Jasper couldn't really be bothered about any of these details, he just needed a place to wait the storm out. He shoved his shoulder into the heavy wooden door and pushed hard.
A roaring fire crackled at one end of the room whilst a wooden bar stretched across the other side. The room was homely and warm, the low light of candles creating a wonderful atmosphere. Round wooden tables were dotted around with no more than a dozen people sitting scattered amongst them.
Not quite knowing what to do, Jasper hopped up onto one of the barstools and put his head in his hands. There was no way that he could search for someone in that in a storm of that ferocity. He'd almost frozen half to death so the raging fire was quite a comfort.
Jasper grabbed one of the papers that were stacked in a neat little pile to one side of where he was sat. Maybe he could glean some information from one of these.
Jacob's House of Pub: Weekly Announcements
Mon 19:00 - 20:30
Special guest André Beetroot is coming to do some more stand up. Make sure not to drink too much beforehand!
Wed 12:00 - 17:00
Bingo club will resume as normal. Don't let Sheila bring any more cake.
Thu
The pub will be closed due to ongoing renovations. Don't worry folks, we're just adding even more rooms!
Sun 13:05 - 14:45
Church of the Sunset Dawn elders meeting
Many thanks to Mr Ipkiss for making and printing these. We don't give you enough credit these days.
Nothing of interest here. Jasper raked a hand through his wet hair and sighed.
Suddenly, a small glass shot to his hand from the other side of the bar. Slightly taken aback, Jasper eyed the bright drink suspiciously.
"Don't worry, it's just orange juice" A rough voice chuckled as a large burly man walked over to him, a small towel draped over his shoulder.
Jasper had heard of oranges, though they were only for the very wealthy. There was no way he could afford this.
"I don't have the money sir"
"No, neither do I" Another chuckle. "But those guys do."
Jasper turned to see two men sitting at a small round table at the back of the room, both already looking at him and smiling warmly.
They looked friendly enough, if you ignored the massive crossbow strapped to the taller one's back.
The armed man raised his hand in greeting before motioning for Jasper to come over. Oh dear. Jasper did not like where this was going.
Jasper timidly shuffled off the barstool and started walking towards the men.
"Please, please, pull up a chair", one of them said with a strange accent (possibly Welsh, TBC).
"Now, there's nothing to worry about," The other said, his eyes crinkling in the corners. This guy was definitely Welsh.
"My name is Frankie and this is my husband Alan."
Alan grinned at Jasper. Okay... Jasper wasn't loving the excessive amount of smiling. Who were these men? What did they want? Why did they buy him a drink?
"We knew your mother."
That was like a punch to the gut. Jasper almost spat out his drink.
"You did?" Jasper asked breathlessly. He was definitely not expecting this.
Alan spoke up now "Yes, remarkable woman she was. Never gave up, no matter the circumstances."
"Yes." Frankie chimes in "And she was incredibly smart too." He paused.
"So smart in fact, that she realised, you didn't necessarily have to go forward in time to have your magic accepted" Frankie smiled at his husband as he slid his hand onto the others.
Jasper was touched by how genuinely happy these two men were. He had this strange bittersweet lump in his throat as he thought of the chance his family never had.
"Before she left, she gave me this gift" Frankie said as he pulled something out from his inner pocket.
A small notebook.
"A dairy." Jasper voiced his thoughts.
"Yes." He smiled "I write down all of mine and Alan's endeavours and adventures in here. And I must say, there is something truly magical about keeping a diary."
"Why are you telling me this?" Jasper was enjoying this but there seemed to be something more that the couple weren't telling him.
Alan and Frankie exchanged a worried glance. Then Alan spoke up.
"Have you checked the diary recently?"
Jasper pulled out the worn book and flicked to the first empty page. Except it wasn't empty. Written in the same scrawling handwriting as every other page, was a note that Jasper hadn't seen there before.
My dearest Jasper, there is something very important you need to know about your father.
there is something so interesting to me about how the boys each handle their emotions like..
roland's instinct is so shove it down, put on a brave face, deceive himself into thinking everything is fine. smile and look on the bright side and be the shining prophet your family needs you to be. and then when kevin asks if the voice is really the lord he reaches his breaking point and the first thing he does is run away. he uses command to make hinks leave, everyone get out, no one can know, break down if you have to but don't let them see the crack in the facade. cheery smile "good question kevin!" they need you to be strong.
kevin denies. he pushes away and makes himself seem tough and doesn't care what anyone else thinks because it's easier than being vulnerable. when his parents drop him off, he sulks and crosses his arms and slaps the tears away and looks away first before they can leave him like they always do. when the boys get in trouble it's instantly "I didn't do anything, you don't have proof of me" because no one has ever been on his side but himself. all he can do against the photocopier is kick and spit and scream "shut the fuck up!"
monty bites and scratches when he's backed into a corner- they're gonna figure out what a monster you are, might as well make them hate you first so you feel some sense of agency over it. "kill me kill me kill me" he begs them to give up on him, unable to comprehend anyone thinking he's worth the struggle. he has big outbursts, he's loud and scary and violent but he cries. he curls into a ball and sobs, his emotions too big to fit in his body. he needs to be hugged and held and kissed on the forehead, anything to keep him here, in the moment, not a monster, just a boy.
edgar gets angry. not ripping and clawing and biting angry, he seethes. he's low and quiet and it boils inside him and it rattles his bones until he has no choice but to blow up. "when I get scared nothing happens at all," he's a shy little library boy, stuttering and apologizing, constantly ashamed of himself for just being there. but poe goes missing, the only part of himself he thinks is worth a damn, and he's a man on a mission. the stammering is gone, the restraint and control is nowhere to be found and he gets reckless. barreling forwards and jumping out the window and yelling at the hexmaster and packing his things to leave.
just. the way that their anger and their grief manifests and how they desperately try to fight against it and how they parallel each other. I love it when the characters.
[ID from alt: A digital drawing of Kevin, Roland, Edgar and Monty from Roll from the Hip's the Plagueround in their detention dorm. Kevin is sat on a bed playing harmonica. Roland is sat on the floor, staring blankly ahead, with a hand to his mouth in thought. Edgar and Monty are both singing, Edgar standing by the barred window looking out, and Monty sat on another bed. End ID]
there's something genuinely so funny to me about the boys singing and playing music while sam/roland stares into the distance and I just had to draw them
The doodles of the lil guy with the half n half face is of my lil artist sona Buddy
Up in the corner is a quick doodle of Jasper from sfth’s improv play “Moist and Magical.” I was wondering where the heck you would fit Sam’s classic flannel into the fit of a boy witch, but guys…… flannel pattern on the inside of the witch hat? He totally would.
In the middle-right is L from improv play “The Creak in the Attic.” Love this longform so much you guys would not believe it. Anyways, I just wanted to draw that expression on L so badly. Poor Junior is so bad at charades and poor L has to suffer through it.
Aaaaaaannnnnddddd of course of course, gotta have a Strange Noises doodle. Basically I am currently thinking about like an au/continuation of the story where Locomotion gets pulled out of his realm by a teenage Benjamin after Loco decides to have a surprise visit (as Ben’s escape was probably the most entertaining thing it experienced in ages) and in a Doctor Who move, accidentally pops in a few years later than intended. So yeah…. Locomotion in the real world, a place where it no longer has control over reality. It’s going to be interesting.
Here yall go the edit ive been working on for way to long. Since I dont have my laptop I wasnt able to fix some of the glitchy parts so I hope its okay...
Everyone (understandably) talks about Locomotion's "older than the devil" monologue, but like- the whole scene after that building up to "I know your name!" "You know my name?" "LOCOMOTION" goes unbelievably hard and is a major part of the reason I think Strange Noises is the best sfth longform.
I don't like this one that much... TT the perspective is weird...
Another combined prompt for today's @plagueroundcountdown > < This scene took me out, why did Edgar just calmly ate all of the food?? And I wanted to kinda picture their holding cell I mean room, so I watched back to see Midge's description. The four beds in each corner and a table in the middle?? Weird ass placement, who design this shit.