#hmtb

[angeart]

scarian week 2025: mirage

— prompt from here

closeups and timelapse below the cut

[linkito]

Help Me To Breathe || Black Hole Fantasy

Happy Birthday to @angeart!!! animatic based on her lovely fic: Help Me To Breathe

[lumadreamland]

MAKE ME CHOOSE

Anonymous asked: kid, teen or adult Henry

[angeart]

so who still likes hmtb in 2026-

[angeart]

<3 a hmtb treat for you all

[angeart]

hmtb chapter 58: the edges of breaking (don’t let me fall too far)

—

The space between his ribs is hollowed out, his head empty; he feels like a marionette that lost all its attachments, and can no longer function. There’s nowhere for him to go: not forward, not backwards, not a step anywhere. No frayed end of a string that could link him back to the world.

He can’t even anchor his gaze, his surroundings a blur out of focus. 

He startles, body twitching as a lightswitch flicks on in a doorway off to the side. Far, too far. (Anything is too far right now. All of it too insurmountable.) (He’s tired. He’s so, so tired.) Light spills sideways into the hallway, illuminating a shadow of a figure, a person stopped just short of entering the room and dipping out of sight.

Grian’s breath keeps catching in his throat, his eyes big and incomprehending, glistening.

In a couple of swift steps, the figure comes closer, erasing the distance between them.

Lips move, but it’s meaningless to Grian. His ears continue to buzz. The world is askew, and Grian isn’t a part of it.

Gentle hands come up to cup Grian’s face, warm fingertips brushing freckled skin. Concerned green eyes try to catch his gaze. 

Grian’s brain rattles.

Light spilled behind dark brown hair paints the strands shiny-gold against the darkness that crowds in from the sides—the darkness that holds Grian hostage, its tendrils curled around his frame, tugging at his stomach and keeping him in place. But there’s another hold on him, soft and firm and pleading all at once, and Grian wonders if it’s going to pull him out of this place. Out of—

Distressingly, he thinks of a wet bed and slick floor and stained clothes—blood, his blood, so much of it—and a hole in the ceiling, a familiar face looking down at him. Coming closer, reaching out, eager and desperate to save him.

He blinks, his hands lifting up and hooking into white sleeve, dazedly wondering if he’ll leave red smears across the fabric. 

[angeart]

if you're drawing stuff from hmtb... could we see the scene from the end of chapter 7 where Scar's trying to get Grian to drink a potion and Grian just grabs his sleeve and covers them both with one of his wings? That scene kills me every time.

oKAy it took me a while but here it is!

He didn’t even recognise Scar, and yet… Half-conscious, this is what he does on pure instinct.

— hmtb chapter 7: lighthouse in the storm

[angeart]

— hmtb chapter 47: love like wildfire

Grian wraps his arms more tightly around Scar and burrows into the hug, revelling in the fact that this is happening. And he knows he’ll feel bad about it later. He knows he’ll feel like he shouldn’t have let it happen. But right now, it’s happening and it’s making him scandalously, deliriously happy, and he just wants to cling to this moment a little bit longer.

———

// redraw, the original can be found in >> this post << under the cut