#OC: Dorothea

[magical-art-blog]

Rendered the Dorothea sketch, she's so silly <3

[venusofvolterra]

Demetri’s wife was named Lenodora, and when she got pregnant they agreed that if the baby was a boy they’d name him after her, Lenodaurus, and if the baby was a girl, they’d name her after Demetri (Demetrios at that point in time), her name in that case would be Demetria.

The baby was a girl, and though Lenodora died giving birth to her, as he always says now, he despises the kind of men who would take that kind of thing out on their children. He was determined to be a good father. He loved Demetria so much, she was the sunshine in the dark sky of her mother’s death. The silver lining of that storm cloud. Demetri had his mother and his closest sister, Dorothea, by his side to guide him through it.

Unfortunately, Demetria died only a few months after Lenodora.

I’m procrastinating on writing a longer post about Demetri’s wife from when he was human but here’s just one bittersweet little thing about their tragic love story.

[nerobearodoodles]

Some more refined skelimir designs and some slight prespective work featuring the cousins! the ones and onlies! look at them beefy gals!

[wardenwyrd]

happy WBW! i am so intrigued by prisma and wonder if you could go into a little more detail abt the colour coding? :)

Thank you for the ask! Conveniently, this is actually the subject of my brainrot and thus you are a very kind mutual. Sorry if this is a bit incoherent btw. I'll deep-dive the specific components at a later date.

The colour coding is a huge part of Prisma both in it's conception and worldbuilding. Each story revolving around their respective protagonist is coded a colour (I.E, Jack's story and red); themes, ideas, and symbolism regarding this occur both in a meta way and in an in-universe way.

Neat fact: Prisma is a play on the word "Prismatic", nodding to the fact that white can be split into the spectrum of colours by a prism.

Quick Breakdown of Prisma:

Prisma is the setting of these stories, and colours - hues are the primary power/magic system. A surreal other-land where figurative can become literal and vice versa. Hues are it's fundamental building block, existing both as an abstract but also a resource. Here is where our three protagonists come in: at some point in their stories they become 'Key Figures', a facet of that colour embodied in a person. I'll elaborate on that particular concept in another post.

I'll give you the rundown on each protagonist and their relation to the colour coding. These aren't the only aspects of the hues, but the main ones.

Jack, Red -

“It doesn’t matter what powers you hold, or the trials you’ve faced; as long as I reach into the four corners, my Judgement is tangible irregardless.”

Red watches over rules and conventions. It's a hue of hierarchy, of domination and submission, of judgement. It works with the pre-existing fabric of things, tending towards tangling things in it's rules rather than violating it's own tenets.

There's also another aspect integral to red: Mediums. In Prisma, a Medium is not someone who merely gazes ghosts, but possess sight that stretches past horizons; the domain of a medium is to wrench meaning from things. Mediumship as a quality is inherently linked to the hue of red.

What this means for Jack, my favourite red-eyed little bastard, is that his power is in pulling at exposed threads. People constantly transgress all sorts of rules - personal, natural, even physical rules; it just isn't noticed. Jack as a key figure is an Arbiter. By acknowledging a transgression the appropriate punishment is applied automatically as a principle of Prisma itself.

He can gaze at the True Names of things, unravel their nature and bring forth what lays dormant.

As a whole it also ties in with Jack's character and background. There's more to it but I'll elaborate on a dedicated post.

Hel, Blue -

Blue is to expand and grow endlessly. It's boon and plight is that everything that that it is will behold genesis, but all that they are is the horizon's boundary

The sky, the ocean; a roiling pit of genesis from which life sprung. Blue is desire and manifestation - the self crystalised into something tangible. In it's purest form as a hue it is creation unbridled. However, blue - deep, roiling blue, horizon spanning azure - is crystallisation of self. It's dominion ends past the boundary of self, past the ownership of such a minor existence.

Blue can create vast shapes and forms, even spring life to being with it's lustre, yet it has no control over that which it did not create.

Hel first wields this hue in the form of the Principle class artefact 'The Flask', a portion of the sky stolen and inverted long ago, bound by it's own genesis. Hel's character arc is about identity and assumptions, of presumed boundaries and humanity. And how enough imagination can transcend flesh.

Absorbing The Flask at the precipice of death something much vaster, and above all free. The key limitations of this hue remain true, but post-rebirth Hel's entire body is comprised of blue, they let it seep into the ground and spread themselves vast and wide. Something brilliantly inhuman.

Dorothea, Purple -

Pocket watches running in parallel and paradox to the march of moons

Such an awfully royal colour, and so fitting is it for sovereignty to be it's domain. Many things hold power over others: the moon over night and the passage of time, the land from which things sprout, and of course what every person owns: themself.

Dorothea's sovereignty is to fragment - split things into parts, isolate them and take ownership. If she wins ownership over something she can even fragment it's time; send things backwards, freeze things into a single state, steal something's time spent.

Red, Blue, and Purple form a colour triad, and one of purple's specialities is 'borrowing' from these. Out of all the hues Purple is the only one able to use aspects of another by collecting fragments belonging to them.

To the Lilac Sovereign what may be someone's present is merely a puzzle to rearrange to their whims.

Without subjects sovereignty means nothing. Thus, in pursuit of her own royalty Dorothea fragmented herself to become her very own pawn.

Extra Tidbits :

The powers a hue possesses has a lot to do with the associations and symbols connected with them, and while each hue has a scope of it's own they can present in several ways. A key figure is a pure manifestation and expression of the hue, often taking a specific thematic direction. Hues are used by others in the form of materials imbued with it naturally, artefacts, or by acquiring it as a part of oneself.

Red as a hue is violent and bloody and passionate, essential yet bitter like blood. That's kind of why I went with hierarchy/rules. Also got some prey/predator stuff going on.

Blue, to me, is a colour of imagination, creation, and things so vast it's terrifying. Think like life arising from the sea.

Royalty for purple, obviously, but I think it's a very moon-ish, celestial and mystical colour. Time, both as an invention to understand the passing of events better, and as a natural mechanism are very big here.

There are other hues and such and they do stuff but I'm focusing on blue, red, and purple as they're the colours of the respective protagonists.

The colour triad dynamic is kind of:

Red is concerned with rules and convention, judging and causing conclusion in the present.

Blue is creating things anew in the present that persist.

Purple isn't tethered to present: rearranging and altering the state of things.

ALSO: I really didn't want to do like "Red=Fire" or something and I wanted something symbolic to fit my surreal little world so the hues do not function in such a straightforward way.

[mimimar]

finally completed my comic based on the song ivy by taylor swift!✿ please zoom in to read the text and see the details~

✿.✿.✿

you can get the digital zine pdf here! it includes extras like character profiles, costume design, more art of willow and ivy, zine-exclusive sketches and an illustrated guide to the symbolism of all the flowers in this comic.

you can also get prints of individual pages here!

✿.✿.✿

[theplagueraven]

Dot’s fire class 2022, woohoo!

Being lazy with uploads so I’ll just slap all these low effort doodles into one spot lol

[maibel-mai]

YOOOO I LOVE ALL UR LESHYCAT STUFF 💖💖💖💖 IT'S SO CUTE

Oh thank you very much! I'm glad you like it, I really don't know why but the leshycat really got me.

I haven't been able to draw them currently but I have several out of context sketches that I did a while ago (I drew them while playing), although these are the most decent ones I've done:

[icecity78]

Revived old ocs with @nekomoder killer yuri couple

Dorothea (mine) & Janka (nekomoder’s)

[house-of-hamartia]

IMPASSE

"You lift my spirit, take me higher, make me fly Touch the moon up in the sky, when you are mine You lift me higher, take my spirit, make it fly Where all new wonders will appear.

Like the other day, I thought you won't be coming back I came to realize my lackluster dreams And among the schemes and all the tricks we try to play Only dreams will hold their sway and defy

And it feels like fear Like I'll disappear Gets so hard to steer, yet I go on Do we need debate When it seems too late Like I bleed but wait like nothing's wrong You lift my spirit, take me higher, make me fly Touch the moon up in the sky, when you are mine You lift me higher, take my spirit, make it fly Where all new wonders will appear, oh"

"LIFT" - Poets of the Fall

---------------------------------------------

OMG I AM DONE.

I AM FREAKING DONE.

Please, do allow me to share with you all this artwork of Shay and his pint-sized Grand Master, whom he cannot deny anything (sorry y'all, but I am living for the trop "scary ass man being as docile as a lamb with the woman he loves).

AM LIVING FOR THIS.

LIVING.

I can finally show the cheekier, more sensual side of Dorothea's personality, one completely unburdened by sufference of any kind, and AM THRIVING.

Gods, I need to draw more of these.

Now that I have started to draw Shay, AM LIVING.

I hope you will like this.

Perspective was a bitch, but I LOVED working on it.

--Nemo

[nemo-in-wonderland]

Jacob and Dottie - XMen Edition

You're all that I can trust Facing the darkest days Everyone ran away But we're gonna stay here, we're gonna stay here

Ahhhhhh, ahhhhh I know you're scared tonight Ahhhhhh, ahhhhh I'll never leave your side

When it all falls, when it all falls down I'll be your fire when the lights go out When there's no one, no one else around We'll be two souls in a ghosttown

When the world gets cold I'll be your cover Let's just hold Onto each other When it all falls, when it all falls down We'll be two souls in a ghosttown

"GHOSTTOWN" - MADONNA

SO.

A few days ago, I asked on IG how my mutuals would have liked to see me drawing Jacob and Dottie again (since, you know, it has been since March that I last drew them together in any capacity).

And dearest @memoriesofafallen suggested me to draw them as X-MEN.

Needless to say, my brain starting going like crazy, because if there is something that I absolutely adore in this world, it's X-Men.

They were the first comics I ever read (all thanks to my older cousin who was the one to actually introduce me to the fandom with the old game "Children of the Atom") and to be honest, the only Marvel comics I ever read (I much preferred DC when I was younger).

So, when dearest Tofu suggested me to draw them as X-Men, the brain started brainrotting right there and then.

BUT.

I was faced with a dilemma: drawing them as my favourite X-Men pairing OR as the characters that Jacob and Dottie resembled the most?

Because depending on that, I would have to draw them as very different characters (a huge cookie to the one that would guess how I would have drawn them if I went with the similarity road lolol)

And Tofu suggested me to go with my favourite ship.

SO NOW HERE YOU HAVE JACOB AND DOTTIE AS GAMBIT AND ROGUE BECAUSE FML.

Only, of course, I had to change Rogue!Dottie's hair, so I inverted the colours lololol

Baby me was smitten with Mr. LeBeau when I saw it on tv in '94, and absolutely love Rogue for how tough she was (why do you think I have a white streak in my hair lol)and you can BET YOUR HAT THAT I JUMPED TO THE OCCASION AND STARTED TO SHIP ROGUE AND GAMBIT (we will absolutely pretend that AoA never happened. Nah-ah. That is not canon for me. nope.)

Also, I decided to go a different way with colouring this time around, and instead of going with the soft rendering I usually go with, I decided to try my hand at recreating the style that is usually used in the comic, and good Gods, let me tell you, I had an ABSOLUTE blast and I am SO HAPPY WITH HOW THIS TURNED OUT.

SO HAPPY WITH THE COLOURING, SO HAPPY WITH THE POSE (also a little throwback to the very first artwork I did with them lolol

SO HAPPY WITH EVERYTHING.

I gave it a small "80s Retro" vibes because YES.

Honestly, for once I didn't dread colouring and rendering, and I had a HOOT.

I truly need to practice this colouring more often because I loved it! <3

Well, I hope you will like this!

--Nemo

[blueey-jayzilla]

Some angel OCS 👼

[magical-art-blog]

goddamn Dorothea!!

[xxlea-nardoxx]

Thea, the little dumpling.

Reference and drawing without text under the cut⬇️

[silky-nereid]

– the dead, the gold, and the obsession || DARK CONTENT

Yandere! Cowboy x Former Cowboy! Reader/You

tw : gun usage, injuries, manipulation, death, kidnapping.

Yandere! Cowboy who was always a close associate turned into a close confidant of yours; at times she knew you better than yourself.

Yandere! Cowboy who was the brains of the group that you lead and  in charge of every single robbery from mills, stealing the occasional cattle or finest horses.

Yandere! Cowboy who always kept you level headed when you were just furious on a simple mistake that would have cost you the whole heist. 

“Look at me.” Her leather gloves gripped the sides of your face. “I said look at me.” 

Your eyes looked at her, your hands brushed at the intricate design of the recently stolen buscadero holder that held your revolvers. Her faded bandana was snug around her neck, a jagged scar extended from the right side of her jawline to under her right nostril.

“Where are we?” She asked. 

“At camp,” you responded. 

“Good,” she replied, “and where in the camp are we at?”

“Why are you doing this?” You asked. “I just need to talk to him.” 

Her eyes looked to see your hands seemingly itching to reach your revolvers; a behavior that she knew far too well. Only talking that would be done would be eulogies to a shallow grave. 

“We are running low on people,” she replied. “We can’t be killing them off, can’t we?” 

“Yes, we can but we could have—“ 

“Where are we again,” she interrupted. “Are we in a cell? At the gallows because we both know that there’s a bounty on both of us.” 

“We…we are at camp in my tent,” you replied. 

“Good,” she replied, “I’ll keep watch while you sleep ‘cause you haven’t slept.”

Yandere! Cowboy who doesn’t trust the newcomer because they just seem a bit off; seemingly becoming your mouthpiece during planning portions of heists or crimes and starts seeing you less and less.

Yandere! Cowboy who notices your candlelight never going out at night even though you are seemingly the first one awake but often wakes up to hushed whispers of your voice and the newcomer. 

Yandere! Cowboy who slowly gets a bit jealous at seeing you and the newcomer side by side; that was her spot not theirs. She notices the subtle changes that weren’t there before like the sudden change in revolvers or the amount of coins in your pocket that you used to donate to the nearest saloon when you were feeling ‘generous’ before robbing it.

Her eyes looked at your tired ones, the newcomer that had weaseled their way into her spot. Their hands that held your tired shoulders while your horse held a muffled person wrapped with your rope, she recognized the person; gloved hands trembled with anger. 

“Do you know who you have tied up?” She asked.

“Someone,” the newcomer chimed. 

“I’m talking to the leader, not you,” she said. “Do you know who you have tied up?” 

She stepped closer to you, sitting on a wooden stump. Your face was stained with grime and specks of dried blood, reeking of fresh gunpowder from your new buffalo rifle and the butt of the rifle had specks of dried blood. 

“I’m asking a question,” she replied. “Do you know who you have tied up on your horse?”

“I know who I have,” you replied. “One of the Buckley boys.”

“You might as well signed us off to the gallows,” she said. “Not just one of the Buckley’s boys but Cyrus’ kid, you realize that we have an even larger target on our backs because of this.” 

Her hands pulled you away from them, arm remained around your shoulder and the dirt underneath your boots were heard with each crunch. Each step, each tether and she held one side of your face. 

“What’s going on with you?” She asked. “Not talking to me, I helped you with one of our greatest heists and this is how you treat me.” 

“I’m just…it’s just,” you replied, trailing off.

“What is it?” she asked. “We have been through enough together but this is nothing, remember? It’s you and me, nobody else.”

She pressed her gloved hands against your face; holding it as if only you mattered to her and her alone. 

“What are we going to do about this?” She smiled. “What are we going to do?” 

Yandere! Cowboy who will have her hands in other things to get knowledge on the next heist that will cause more money to be raised on the bounty that you both shared together since you and her were one of more prominent ones in the spotlight.

Yandere! Cowboy who has the wooden box filled with golden bricks hidden in a special spot that only you and her know because it holds sentimental value to your heart and hers. 

Yandere! Cowboy who for once fails to notice the growing plot of an uprising within your group due to her obsession of you being a slight overwhelming feeling but it never went to extreme levels—or so she tried to make it look like that. 

“I’m not standing for this.” Her finger was itching to be pressing on the trigger of her Winchester rifle that she had stolen during a train hijacking. “They rescued you and this is how you repay them?” 

You stumbled out of your tent, head aching. The cold rain touching the warmth of your skin caused an involuntary gasp while your blurred vision tried to register the scene. 

She stood in the center of the woods, strewn the supposed traitors as she was always making jokes that she would tie them up by their wrists; it seems that she wasn’t joking this time. 

Your boot crunched on a twig and she turned to face you, her eyes always calm; a mixture filled with hatred and annoyance. Her blue-silver eyes darted up and down your face; trying to examine you and her lips grew into a smile. She slung her rifle as it was held by a leather strap and her gloved hands held your face.

“Can’t you see?” She said, “I’m doing this for you—for us.”

You pushed her away, she pulled you back; a short scuffle between the both of you as you and her rolled in the meadow greenery around amidst the struggling of you trying to disarm her. Mud coated your clothes during the struggle and the occasional smacking into stumps of the chopped woods. Yet, she managed to stab you in the leg; she was always a better aim than you. You cried out in the pain, looking down to the blood staining your pant leg and feeling the blade turning around in your leg, your gasps echoing the seemingly peaceful meadow. 

Her blood splattered on your face, your hands held her while grimacing in pain; the blood bloomed on your side that reached your abdomen. One of the supposed tied members managed to get free and used one of the spare guns to shoot; her bloodied face was buried onto your chest. 

You gently pushed her off of you, staggering towards your tent; this life wasn’t working out for you…Not anymore. You looked in the small fractured mirror, seeing your bloodied face staring back. You needed something new—a new identity in a different city.

You managed to get exactly that, giving up your old ways by faking your own death as it was seemingly easier than every average heist that you had committed before for a small farmhouse and having the familiar warmth of a lover that didn’t know about your past—they didn’t need to know because the past you was a different person and they loved you. 

You had managed to get a small career in the back of a saloon for stocking tobacco and cigars for an extra fee to smoke. It was a normal work day and feeling the cold barrel pressed against the back of your head. 

“Tobacco.” The barrel pulled back slightly only to be pressed back again; harshly. “Give it.” 

You handed the crate of tobacco to them and turned to face them; your eyes widened. Recognizing the half of the exposed face and faded familiar bandana pulled up.

“I thought you were—“ you said. 

“It’s you,” she interrupted. “I finally found you.”

Before you could say anything else. She struck you; stumbling to your knees and feeling the hot blood trickle down your face, looking up. Last thing, you saw was the heel of her boot kicking you and fading into black.

Yandere Cowboy who takes out the crates of tobacco and cigars to share with her small group of outlaws; she doesn’t get too close to them since they aren’t you. Nobody could replace you.

Yandere Cowboy who purposely sets up faulty heists that ends up in her group of outlaws slowly dying one by one because she can’t have loose ends now.

Yandere Cowboy who knows where your little farmhouse is and she watches when you come home to greet your lover from a hard day at work; she knows you’re not meant for this domestic life—you just need a push towards this lifestyle. 

You winced and recognized the insides of your farmhouse. Your hand touched the dried blood from, using the doorframe to pull yourself up and seeing the sight in the once organized kitchen; the food in the pot  was charred, table stained with blood, broken plates and your squirming lover who was bruised and slightly bloodied in trying to defend themselves from her but their wrists bound while she aimed a revolver to the side of their head. 

“Dorothea,” you cried out, “let them go. This is between us, right?” 

“Right.” She looked at you then to your lover. “It is just between us.” 

She harshly shoved them to the floor, putting her revolver back into her buscadero holder, watching as they scrambled to you. 

The deafening noise of the bullet flew, whistling in the air and making their home in the middle of your lover’s head. The blood splattered onto your face, cradling their body in your arm; looking up at Dorothea. 

“Why—“ Your voice was broken. “You—Dorothea…”

“Don’t cry on me.” She stepped closer but you stepped away from her. “Don’t be like that. You didn’t like being tied down, remember?” 

“I—This life.” You held them closer to your breaking body as if this was a dream and you would wake up anytime soon. “You promised—I don’t…” 

She maneuvered you to let go of them with mild disgust of how overly sensitive you were towards them; they were a corpse, nothing more. Her hands—calloused hands held your bloodied and tear stained face. 

“It’s just you and me,” she said. 

[edelgards]

mentally, i'm always here in this goddamn au

bonus:

[ginnungagay]

to devote yourself to a god you know nothing about

from one cage to another, and another.