#I just remembered that I can draw whatever I want

[ilikerosesalot]

* Despite everything....it's still you

Few days late (work....it never ends..) but happy birthday in stars and time!! I finished the game right in time for the anniversary so I had to dedicate my first fanart to it. I remember when I first booted up the game I made a video of me watching the opening scene and I added the Undertale track "Memory" to it. I didn't even know it was an inspiration for the game the music just felt...fitting. Then siffrin responded to the friendship doodle by going "it's you!". The idea just sprung. That statement just kept spinning in my head the entire time I played the game. So it's only fitting that an indie game that changed the trajectory of my life completely just like that Undertale to get this sort of fanart yk?

Textless versions and some more ramblings provided under the cut!!

Kinda proud of how loop-frin and bigfrin turned out...and the expression of maul du pays and "say its name" siffring turned out (may or may not like drawing terrified expressions- new discovery!). I wanted to add more (if I upload the tinelasp you can see there were some other sif sketches that never got lined) and i wanted to include the fam in act6 picture but....time. Oh well, I just needed to express my love for this game *somehow*. Siffrin and everyone else mean the world to me and just....honestly not enough words. Just, thank you @insertdisc5 for creating this wonderful game. I wish you and everyone else good luck on whatever lies ahead on our journey <3

[pucabearry]

The reason Jimmy x Curly makes me so uncomfortable starts basic with the fact that Jimmy has done things and I don't think he should be with anybody, toxic or not. Just put him in jail and leave him there and stop it with him.

But then it's also like. . . . remember how Curly didn't do anything for Anya? Remember how he defended his friend? A lesson that people are drawing from this game is toxic male culture means defending your friend no matter what they've done. "I can fix this," But then he doesn't. So Jimmy x Curly? What are you doing?

If you want Curly to become a better person in whatever AU you are, him and Jimmy dating, Curly choosing Jimmy, is not the way to go. I don't care if it's a silly joke. You're ignoring the point.

YOU ARE IGNORING THE DANG POINT BRO !!!! "Yeah they're dating and stuff" Okay so your version of Curly is he knows about Anya and everything and he's making out with Jimmy. Great headcanon my guy !!! [very sarcastic]

I've seen people diving into character analysis with the ship and not romanticizing it which makes a little more sense to me I guess?

sorry if my rambling makes no sense

[bisexualbellamyblake]

a quiet undoing

buddie - post-808 coda - read on ao3

“Eddie’s moving to Texas.”

Maddie blinks at Buck, processing his words. It’s barely a second before her head tilts, and her eyebrows draw in, and she’s looking at him like he’s six again, like he’s fallen from his bike and all she wants to do is patch him up.

Protect him from the world.

“Oh, Buck,” she says, soft like she’s worried he’s fragile, like he might break, and maybe he will, because he doesn’t even remember it, driving to her house.

It’s all a blur.

Going to Eddie’s with a basket of baked goods.

Using his key and feeling that quiet thrill in his chest at the click of the front door unlocking.

Teasing Eddie about whatever he was looking at.

And then, being hit with something that Buck never imagined he would be. The prospect of Eddie leaving LA.

Of leaving him.

“I don’t — I’m not sure why I’m here,” Buck says, voice feeling tight with a fresh wave of tears. The first lot came when he was sitting on Eddie’s couch, when Eddie was no longer watching him and he allowed himself a moment not to pretend. They’re harder to swallow down this time. “I just got in my car and somehow ended up here.”

“That’s okay,” Maddie says, reaching out to put a hand on his arm, coaxing him inside. “I’m glad you came.”

She leads them to her couch, and Buck sits down, trying not to think about Eddie’s couch.

How many times has he sat there with Eddie? With Chris?

How many times has he slept there?

How many of Buck’s memories have been born on Eddie’s couch?

And now, he’s just spent an hour there on a call with a real estate agent, trying not to be anything but supportive as Eddie asked about different properties in fucking Texas.

Because how could he be?

Eddie misses Chris more than anything in the world.

He needs to be with him.

Buck understands, even if it feels like his own heart has been carved out of his chest.

“He wants to be with Chris,” Buck says, he’s not sure how long later. Time doesn’t feel like it’s moving quite like normal. “He’s looking at houses. I don’t understand why he doesn’t just fly there and bring him home. This is his home, Maddie, not Texas.”

“Buck…”

“I know, I’m not — I would never say this to him, don’t worry. I’ll let him go, even if it kills me. Even if I…”

The words get caught in his throat, and god, it’s love that’s strangling him right now, he knows it.

Another thing he can always associate with Eddie’s couch.

His eyes burn, and his chest feels cracked open, and it’s as Maddie’s pulling him in for a hug that he finally breaks. Tears hot on his cheeks, half-formed breaths shuddering out of him, his entire being — body and soul — aching with grief.

He’s always been an easy crier, always felt things too hard, too much, but he can’t recall the last time it felt this overwhelming.

Not when Tommy broke up with him.

Not when he was coming to terms with his own death — three minutes and seventeen seconds.

Not even when Maddie left, as much as it killed him.

It was probably when Eddie was shot. When Buck broke down in front of Chris.

Now, it’s Maddie who holds onto him as he sobs, murmuring soft words he can’t quite process as his body shakes with sorrow, as he tries to come to terms with the reality of yet another person he loves leaving him.

It’s minutes, or maybe hours, until he’s wrung dry, until the tears have stopped and his face feels tight and sticky and his heart continues its confused, worried beat within his chest: how will we go on?

Buck doesn’t know.

But he wipes at his eyes, and takes a slow breath, and this is what he does know:

He’s in love with Eddie.

And it’s because of that love, that he’ll let him go.

[inquisimail]

dai love interests' letters to the inquisitor in veilguard, if anyone was curious to see them. transcriptions in alt text & under cut

Amatus,

I'm writing. Again. Yes, the sending crystals still work and yes, you'll be in Minrathous in a few short weeks. But a letter, written in blind longing, is real. It can be touched, and it can be held, when ink and paper must substitute for your skin on mine and my breath in your ear.

I used to scoff at frequent declarations of affection. Trite, I thought. Save them for rare and precious moments. But time and love are no longer things I care to squander, especially not as we race again toward calamity. And so, in each of these fleeting, ephemeral seconds, I will tell you that I love you. Whether penned or spoken, or conveyed by glance or action, I love you. In this moment, and in all the moments to come, for as long as they do, I love you.

I will find you soon.

Yours, Dorian

---

My love,

You have summoned me to Minrathous, and I will answer your call, as soon as responsibilities here in the South allow. I have missed being by your side.

Will these troubles be the last we face? The world seems always to conspire, through duty or disaster, to pull you away from me. I do not resent it. You are dedicated to purposes far larger and more significant than myself. I hope you do not think me a fool for hoping that one day, your only concern will be the color you wish our walls to be painted, or the flowers we will plant beside our gate. I'm partial to carnations.

Yours always, Thom

---

My love,

We are no strangers to duty, or the separation it demands of us. You head for Tevinter, and though I want to go with you, there is work we both must do. I will not falter in the tasks that wait before me and I pray my actions, in whatever measure they can, will keep you safe.

The others see only confidence in my resolve, but you have always known more than mere appearance. I confess to you, and you alone, that I am afraid. I'm afraid of what may happen, that Thedas will face such turmoil as it did before. I know not what awaits us. Yet even in the face of uncertainty, there are two things I cannot doubt and never will. The first is that our paths are never separated long. That I will find you at my side when I need you, as you will find me at yours. I will play my part in this and follow as soon as I can.

The second thing I never doubt is you. Whatever lies before you, trust yourself. Trust your heart as I trust it. It will not lead you astray.

Yours, Cassandra

---

Hey, Kadan,

Not the first time we've marched toward different battles. I know you're keeping the crap from catching fire up in Tevinter. Wish I could be there, but I'll make sure there's a world for you to come back to when you're done dealing with crazy vints and stupid Antaam and whatever other crap Solas kicked up. (Shit, the Antaam. Remember when I was worried what would happen if I went tal-vashoth? That right there!)

I know you're gonna be careful, and you've got Morrigan there. Just take care of yourself. If anything happens to you, I'm going to have to take Krem and the Chargers and stomp across all of Tevinter to come get you. It'll be a whole thing, and you know it'll upset Dorian.

Being apart from you made me realize something else. I spent so long being whatever the Ben-Hassrath wanted me to be. An investigator. An agent. A mercenary sending reports. These past years, since the Inquisition ended, I've been able to be just what I want to be.

And what I really want to be is yours. I like the person I am when I'm with you.

So come back safe.

Love, The signature appears to be a stylized rendering of the Iron Bull's head.

---

(An artistically doodled journal page presumably from the Inquisitor's partner, Sera.)

Keep this as close as I need you. (A drawing of a pile of flowers, with lines like it's moving, an arrow pointing to it labeled "us.")

North again, Mini-wrathus still stuck up its own pucker.

Magiturds are scared of us. They don't even know.

We work with Maevaris, right? She's wow.

So many Friends! Jennies in all the walls!

We kill him this time. He took from us twice! (A drawing of a cracked egg scribbled out, with "can't even joke" in letters that tore the page.)

Still thinking of you sideways.

Never mind the Dalish, here's the Veil Jumpers! Tempest-kin! (A drawing of a tall, shorthaired elf (Sera?) and Irelin brandishing two fingers, backflipping as a tree explodes in runes.)

The memory thing makes my head spin. If that Rook doesn't take it, throw it out.

Tell Morrigan ppbbth! for me.

I'll also tell her ppbbth! She knows why.

Tell them to Stripe. Him. Up. I wanted more books. (More heavy scribbles that tear.)

You meet; I'll keep you safe. Then I'm your time off, and you're my time on.

(The last section has different colored inks, like Sera has returned to it several times.)

New naked names: -Sweet-tits (scribbled out) -Bestest (scribbled out) -Loverly (scribbled out) -Lovey (scribbled out) -My-for-always-and-ever - name's not too long, time's too short. -But "Sweet-tits," though (scribbled out)

---

The top of the letter has been punctured by small, sharp teeth, leaving most of a beloved name and a few sentences too chewed to read.

I fear the puppy started on this letter shortly after I did. I'd start over, but I must send this tonight if it's to reach you. Matters are settled here and I make for Tevinter as soon as possible.

I almost believed chaos might spare us this time. I can't say I wished to see Minrathous before now, but I am eager to see you. I long to see your face and know that you're all right. You are— I've— There's— I wish that I was better at putting into writing all that's in my mind. For now, simply know that I love you. It is the most cherished constant of my life.

The days ahead will not be easy. I know there's much you carry, more than many realize. But whatever you must face, you will not meet it alone. You have my sword, my counsel, my—I could write this list forever when all I mean to say is this—

Whatever you need of me, I am yours.

Cullen

---

My Dearest Lady, / My Dearest Lord,

I have spoken to friends in Minrathous. They offer us their hospitality, not to mention shelter from the worst intrigues of the Archon's Palace. While you're well acquainted with the roving eyes of grand courts, please take care. Tevinter's regard can be the oldest and cruelest of them all.

The family writes the weather back home is beautiful. I do miss our quiet times together.

There is a question I've wanted to ask you for so long. I would like to pretend I have been busy, or it was not the proper time. But, if I am being honest, I only waited because I have been afraid of choosing a poor moment. Please, let me make a promise to you here.

When we return to Antiva, I will ask you, on the steps of the estate, if you will do me a great honor. And I dream you will say yes.

Always yours, Josephine

Postscript: I cannot believe it nearly slipped my mind. Yvette and Lord Otranto send their best wishes, and hope to see us back home in time to welcome their third child.

[jikupikus]

trans!curly / jimcurly / mdni

In all ways Curly is someone who Jimmy wants to be.

He’s kind, he’s handsome, he’s a leader, and people respect him. He knows what to say and when to say it, and others listen to him like how a dog listens to a master. Curly doesn’t even demand esteem, he just gets it, and it pisses Jimmy off.

It’s been that way for a while, and all Jimmy can do is stomach it. He doesn’t know what happened, what strings Curly had to pull, but he tugged those strings and is now sitting pretty on his pedestal looking down from his rosy spot onto the other crew members– onto Jimmy.

The worst part about it is that Curly isn’t even a man, or at least not one in the technical sense. Jimmy remembers when he was a scrawny little girl with poofy long blonde hair that his mom wouldn’t allow him to straighten or cut. He remembers Curly’s braces, and how he would mispronounce words and stumble over his sentences. He remembers the skirts he had to wear because he wasn’t allowed to wear pants, or anything “revealing” for that matter that wasn’t what his stuffy fucking Pentecostal parents approved of.

They met at a church that Jimmy didn’t attend with a chain link fence surrounding the perimeter overlooking a busted white trash trailer park. His mom used to talk shit about that church and how fake everyone is, how they will say “bless your heart” to her when she was on the front porch hitting the glass pipe right before CPS showed up in Jimmy’s front lawn with a nosy cop the next day.

“Remember when my mom used to have a nasty meth addiction and get so addled that she’d accuse us of stealing her spoons?” Jimmy says off handedly one day in the cockpit.

“I don’t think she liked me much,” Curly muses, brow puckering. “Then again I don’t think she liked anyone.”

Jimmy leans over in his chair, his brows creeping up his forehead. “No, she didn’t. I think the meth fried her brain,” he says. “The only time she didn’t do meth was when she was pregnant with me.”

Curly looks over, a smirk playing on his lips. “What did she do instead?”

Jimmy’s face fell, but he played it off. Curly didn’t mean anything by it, maybe. He definitely did, actually. Jimmy crosses his arms, affronted. So much for playing it off.

Sometimes Jimmy’s emotions got the better of him like now, but he can’t help the visceral annoyance that creeps up in him like an invasive vine.

“You fucker,” Jimmy spits. “She wasn’t clean, as you know. I don’t know why you had to go there, but heroin.”

Curly’s eyes flit over to Jimmy, expression apologetic in its own manipulative way. He hates how Curly wilts at any backlash; it’s pathetic in how he behaves like a kicked mutt at any ounce of criticism.

Maybe he’s a little too hard, maybe. Whatever, Curly can just deal with it.

“I… didn’t know. Sorry. I was just joking”–

“Shitty joke,” Jimmy states flatly. “Don’t know why we can’t have a conversation where you don’t make a comment at my expense. It’s kind of annoying.”

Curly’s mouth draws into a taut line, obviously affected by the weight of Jimmy’s words and how they land so heavily on his shoulders. He twists the knife regardless.

They’ve always been that way together, and Curly has always been too sensitive for his own good. Too appeasing, placating. He has never told Jimmy no nor has he ever defended himself. Jimmy thinks his leadership is ill-placed because even if he is well respected and people listen to him, he’s a big fucking pushover. It’s goddamned irritating.

He found that out when they were kids, when Curly forked over his sour gummies because Jimmy threatened to beat his nose in with a rock. Not once did he claim that Jimmy couldn’t hit a girl, nor did Curly ever use any method of defense. He gave up just like that.

Curly is the same now as he was then.

Jimmy sighs, arms unraveling. “Relax. I’m not mad or anything. Don’t get so worked up over something so trivial.”

Curly deflates. He drags his hand down his face, smoothing out the lines of exhaustion that creases his skin around his nose. Dark circles paint his eyes from lack of sleep, his normally bright blue gaze dull and lacking life.

“I guess I’m more sensitive than I normally am. I haven’t slept well at all since we’ve disembarked, maybe averaging one to two hours of sleep a night.” Curly explains himself to Jimmy. It’s another compulsive habit of his, one that makes Jimmy’s heart swell.

He likes that he can wiggle his fingers in the cracks of Curly’s otherwise pristine surface. Curly is riddled with small, hairline cracks, and Jimmy knows exactly how to chip away at his vulnerabilities.

Jimmy will claw his way up Curly’s pedestal and drag him down to his level.

“You need to relax, Captain,” Jimmy presses. He takes Curly’s hand off the center console, holding it in his own rough, calloused palm as his heavy lidded gaze lingers on his friend.

Curly drags his hand out of Jimmy’s grasp and stretches. “I don’t know how to relax,” he says. It isn’t a complaint, but the truth.

In all actuality, as Jimmy knows, Curly is a tightly wound ball of anxiety. During their more intimate moments when there weren’t eyes and ears trained on them, Curly has said so himself.

Only the cockpit and sleeping chambers lack cameras. Jimmy swivels his chair, now facing the door.

“I can help you relax,” Jimmy says, turning his thoughts over in his head. “If you’ll let me, that is. If you won’t shy away like you always do. If you won’t deny me like you did when we were shitty hormonal teenagers.”

Curly’s face flares pink.

[maddiesharafian]

I made a joke to myself about these two being drift-compatible and now here I am

[southern--downpour]

[splankie]

this machine kills.... uh.. this machine kills!

[homiemoshi]

jrwi shitposts ... save me jrwi shitposts

[minalots]

🪡

[faruna]

Grandmas

[howtodisappearcompletelyand]

20/10 stars little guy

[buttercupshands]

my friendship with canon ended now fanon is my new best friend

but first a cute bird

basically my mind decided that it's now free to draw whatever AUs and stuff that I want including random stuff like this

and this!

I think my way of coping with 423 is just... ignoring it ever existed so now it's just this and an occasional canon stuff

but good for him he deserves to have all the fun fanon can offer

fun fact: this was the first sketch out of all of them in this post!

[moonsidesong]

paintelly doodles that are also kind of inside jokes from a group chat i'm in ?!???? uhh they bought candy at the local five below

[turtleducsk]

rin study i initially just wanted to draw her scars tbh, but yeaaaa im still playing around with her features and her skin tone and hair style and everything else...shes so fun to draw so im enjoying the process :D

[hikiclawd]

Got really obsessed with this image had to redraw it with Raygy . . . Og + more image under the cut