#[[very mild but just to be safe]]

[rayadraws]

I was thinking that Cirrus needs a full/last name. His parents are humble merchants, probably growing up he had a common lower class family name.

Throughout BG3 you'll receive titles from NPCs for your deeds. The final one Cirrus received during his playthrough was Devil-Slayer. The campaign ended with him, Wyll and Karlach going to Avernus (hell), to fight more devils... so maybe he can just keep that title as his last name? This also has some fun side effects:

1: You hear about a sorcerer named Cirrus the Devil-slayer, sounds ominous, and then you meet him and he's this shy little guy with the biggest puppy eyes you've ever seen.

2: It matches well with Wyll's title... power couple, the Devil-Slayer and the Blade of Avernus.

3: Given that Cirrus has been with Haarlep (incubus) and his boyfriend Wyll is well, a devil too now, his friends tease him saying he's just as much a Devil-layer as a slayer.

On break from fighting in hell

[ella-arch]

fallen angel anakin

[cr1mson5returns]

I have a very soft spot in my heart for Tim being just the loudest little shit on the planet. He was so used to being by himself in the house as a kid, what with how often his parents were out of town. After realizing how cranky he'd get if it was quiet for too long, he started filling the space with noise on his own purely to save his own sanity.

Cue Tim at Wayne Manor being so fucking noisy and Bruce is so tempted to tell him to quiet down but feels kind of bad if he does. And truthfully, it's nice in its own way to have this little weirdo bouncing off the fucking walls and chattering and clicking his pen 80 times a minute and just being his vibrant, noisy self.

[secretmage]

The healer has the bloodiest hands | DeviantArt

You cannot treat a wound without knowing how deep it goes.

You cannot heal pain by hiding it.

You must accept.

Accept the blood to make things better.

You have taken the first step.

That is the hardest part.

am i secretly an AI or are hands that hard to draw?! a quick Sunday practice piece.

[alilbatflies]

I took part in @thepenultimateword's song-story writing challenge. It was fun!

My assigned song was Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel, submitted by @wacko-weirdo.

...

The fire cracks and sways, warm against the cold night. The shadows of those gathered around it dance much like flowers in the wind, swaying calmly without hurry. A unique form of slow dancing.

The hunter watches from further away. They could listen in on the conversation if they wanted to, but the sounds all smudge in their head. They barely manage to thread the waters of their conflicting thoughts. They’re tired.

The tree against their back is grounding. It’s the hunter’s only comfort. They don’t think to ask for more. They couldn’t possibly.

The group seems so calm. As if they’ve forgotten that there are still soldiers hunting them. The conversation is light, flickering with laughter like the dancing flames, all-consuming.

…perhaps they wish to forget for a while.

The hunter would much like to forget, too.

“Are you going to join us?”

The hunter looks at their old friend. Old friend doesn’t quite cut it. Neither does lover. Neither does any other label that the hunter has tried over the years. Their friend is simply always there.

Their witch friend.

The witch meets their eyes. The fire reflects in the deep brown that is so familiar to the hunter. Its familiarity offers comfort—comfort, which the hunter is unable to accept.

The hunter can’t bear to look.

They turn back towards the fire. Staring into the light is a bad idea, the hunter knows, for one cannot monitor the shadows blinded. And yet, they look. The blazing flames seem to swallow their worries, to soothe. The fire gazes right into their soul and warms its darkest corners. It all feels alright for a little while.

The witch gently takes their hand. They tug the hunter along, towards the fire.

The hunter’s arm lifts to follow the movement but they do not budge. The tree they’re leaning against is their anchor then. They fear losing their ground. They fear getting lost entirely.

They want to go. They want to let themselves be pulled along, they want to join everyone, they want to belong. They want to belong, to finally, finally…

“I’ve killed too many.”

On someone else’s orders. Because of someone else’s ideals. They didn’t know better.

The blood is on their hands.

I might have killed you, too.

The witch steps closer to them, interlocking their fingers instead. They examine their hand, the knuckles, callouses and scars. Those little wounds that tell the stories, if one can read them well enough.

They run their fingers over the hunter’s bandaged forearm, a ghost of a touch. They were the one who tended to the hunter’s injury that day.

“You’ve helped us get away.” The witch meets the hunter’s gaze. “You’ll help us still, won’t you?”

“Of course.” For you.

The witch keeps staring into their eyes. They might be trying to look right past, into the hunter’s mind and soul. They might just be able to read each and every of the hunter’s thoughts.

The hunter has thoughts. The hunter has many thoughts, flying around in their head, possibly causing more harm than good. The hunter can’t seem to stop them.

The hunter knows nothing of herbs. They know nothing of healing. With each moment passing by, they learn that they know nothing of witches, either. They try to learn.

They were told witches are dangerous. They were told they were vicious, vile creatures, evil beings beyond salvation. They were told death was a witch’s only comfort.

It used to be their only truth. The only thing that could help them carry the weight of their sword somewhat, when all of the life seeped out of another pair of silver eyes. It was their shield when the weight of taking a life threatened to slit them open.

It has all shattered so easily.

The hunter vividly recalls the moment their friend’s eyes flashed silver. Their friend was pushed to the edge, looking to them for help. The pieces fit together perfectly. The soldier next to them lunged forward. Their blow never landed.

The hunter met the others a little later on. The other not so evil creatures, who just want to live.

The hunter knows a little better now.

Witches are curious about the world much like their friend has always been. They bear their own weight, the magic running silver in their blood. They desire to live. To be safe. To be understood. The hunter can relate perfectly.

They try to learn.

“Thank you,” the hunter says.

“For what?”

Thank you for opening my eyes. For trusting me. For not letting me stay in the clutches of their truth.

“Being such a pain in my ass.”

The witch laughs. The sound wraps over the hunter like a soft blanket. Nobody ever told them that a witch’s laugh could heal.

The witch lifts the hunter’s hand. They press a kiss to it, holding their gaze.

The hunter shivers.

“I should thank you,” the witch whispers, “for protecting us.”

“Always.”

The witch pulls them along again. Towards the fire. Towards their family.

This time, the hunter lets them.

[nyle-style]

[phoenixcatch7]

Man I am just SO CONFUSED. About the time line of this game.

No one is telling me how long links been gone! Or how long the botw-totk timeskip was! They all just started selling my stuff again lol. I'm going to have to get everything redyed!

Me: hey random stranger! Lore dump? You look like a lore dumper.

Kindly npc: why hullo there, link ^^! My, I haven't seen you in a while since the calamity ended! I was so worried when they said you and the princess had gone missing! But it's good to see you're well.

Me: aw, thanks. How long has it actually been tho.

Kindly npc: ^u^

[calciferstims]

this is rlly random but I just wanted to say that this blog welcomes age regressors, therians, otherkin, systems, mogai identities, literally anything as long as you’re chill and nice!! I love all of you! I may not understand all of y’all but ur safe under my roof, you are welcome here any time.

shout out to all the agere blogs especially idk why but I love seeing y’all, ur so wholesome pls keep doing ur funky thing!! let’s talk about stuffed animals together 🫶

[thevirginslvt]

the fear to move on to a new fandom with all my past fandom related sins !!?

[blackoutsys]

i'll be honest i'm not sure how i didn't realize describing yourself as having "no personality, just bits and pieces i've taken from other people and fictional characters to pretend to be human" is a concerning statement to come from an 11 year old

[murmel-malt]

I decide NOT to punch a guy ONE (1) time and everyone greatly disapproves???

[martiancake]

Who's whispering in whose ear now?

[gildead]

@asklordofthelost asked:

(( ✄ What is an idea you originally had in mind for your muse, but ended up scrapping? Why? ))

Erii, I am so glad you asked me that because I actually found my preliminary Gold design pass for when I was first considering picking up Gold as a muse.

More information under the cut.

Behold! A doodle on some scrap pieces of paper! This was also back before I settled on him being mauled by Shadow Lugia as his cause of death.

Some design notes here is that his arms, legs, neck, and the sides of his jaw would be progressively translucent, showing off the bones underneath. He also still would've had eyes, albeit crying cleaner bloody tears than he does now.

We've still got the floppy sleeves obscuring his hands, obviously, but you also may notice he has sneakers as well. I eventually axed the legs overall because I thought the kind of 'bell-shaped' silhouette he has in his default form now was more interesting (plus it was hard on my dysgraphia-addled hands to constantly be drawing little bones everywhere).

I was also still experimenting with how to draw his hair at the time. I went back and forth on whether or not I wanted it to be as short as it is in canon or give it some length like he has in FNF Lullaby. (I did go for the length because it helped age him up a little without making him too old.)

The one thing I do miss is the translucent sides of his face to display his teeth/jawbone. That made for a pretty cool, creepy visual, but again, drawing that level of tiny detail cramps my hands up badly.

[spiritoast]

sudden SoLposting (aka i found this doodle gathering dust in my downloads and it made me laugh so here you go)

[bee-ships]

Can you be a hater with me for a second?

[sysig]

Horti-cultural differences (Patreon)