#bc i didnt yeehaw

[bosspigeon]

did you get what you were asking for?

haven't been able to write much lately, but i've been playing D&D pretty regularly, and i like thinking about my boy <3 Raike's first "patron" in the Feywilds, though not the one who gave him his magic. a snippet of memories he lost in Barovia coming back to haunt him now that he's returned to where it all started...

He finds it almost funny that he doesn't remember the name of the man who taught him the importance of names in this realm. He doesn't remember his face either, but after Barovia, there are far more important things he's forgotten.

Some of it he's gotten back, but not all, not enough. He's far more concerned with remembering his mother's face than that of some shitty ex–

Ex? Ex-something. Something… something important, truly, but something he's not sure he wants to have back.

The more he recalls, the more he wishes he could pick and choose what he keeps, and what he forgets.

But that's not how it works. That's not how anything has ever worked, no matter much he pretends to believe it does.

Raike used to think of himself as something of a romantic, but much like the boy he was before the Wilds, that part of him died long ago.

He hoped that after he escaped Barovia (though he's still not sure how it happened, and regrets that, once again, he's left his family behind without so much as a goodbye) his memories would return, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

He gets fragments, sometimes. Snippets and shreds, shards of his life before that bleak, murky hellhole. They come to him in wispy half-memories, flashes of sensation, the dry heat of the sun on red sand, the hazy violet of the sky after sunset, the constant thrum of nighttime insects that echoes in the chest.

The memories that come to him in dreams tend to be the clearest, and the worst.

"Slit his throat, pet."

The voice is soft, silky-smooth. Dangerous.

The man at his feet looks up at him, eyes wide and fearful in his ashen face. He's a young man, human–perhaps Raike's age, or maybe a little older.

(How old is he again? How long has he been here?)

Raike wonders what crime the human has committed. It's impossible to guess. He's learned the hard way how easily the Fair Folk are offended. His master is no different.

(Master? Yes, that sounds right. Raike might have called him lover once, when he was newer. Stupider.)

Whatever the crime, it's unlikely it calls for execution. It's even less likely his master is incapable of doing himself, and doing it much less… messily.

Raike hesitates too long.

"I made a request of you, my pet."

A request. He almost laughs.

Instead, he looks down at the human at his feet. He's never seen him before. Poor thing must have stumbled upon the Courts recently. There are still twigs in his hair.

"Raike," his master coos. Sickly sweet. Oily. Like poison dripping from a blade.

That name doesn't belong to him anymore. It's a noose around his neck now, and he feels it pull taut, not-quite choking him–not yet.

He already has so many things to apologize for, if he ever sees his father again.

His master places the knife in his trembling hand, curls his fingers around it, and squeezes. It's a gentle touch, meant to ground him, but the hands around his are corpse-cold.

Raike looks at the human again, sees the panic in his eyes, feels it in the tightness of his own throat, his heart stuttering in his chest.

He's slaughtered animals before. It was a necessity of the humble life he lived before the forest, before the fight, before the Wilds. This can't be much different, can it?

(Raike's always been a good liar, especially to himself, but not this time. Not about this.)

"Please," the human sobs.

"Please," Raike echoes, but his voice is strangled to nothing by the snare his name has become.

His body is moving on its own. He can't fight it. He's tried.

"Don't be so dramatic, pet," his master scoffs. "Just do it."

Raike obeys, as if he has any other choice. He grabs the poor bastard's hair. He tries to keep his grip gentle, but his body refuses–it's not his body anymore, not now–as it jerks his head back to expose his throat. The man gasps, sniveling pleas and prayers to a god Raike's never heard of.

Forgive me, Raike thinks desperately as he brings the knife to the human's throat and across it with one quick, practiced slash.

As it turns out, cutting a human's throat is not the same as cutting that of a goat or a rabbit. The cut is not as clean as he hoped it would be.

Though the rites are screaming through his head with the clarity of years of rote memorization and practice, Raike is not praying to the God of his bitter adolescence.

The face he pictures is lined and austere, gentle black eyes and greying hair.

Forgive me, he pleads a man he hasn't seen in so long, will probably never see alive again. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

"Good pet," his master purrs, running cold white fingers through Raike's hair. There are tears on his cheeks. The human's pleas are drowned in pathetic gurgles, choked for breath. His blood is burning hot and slick on Raike's hands, soaking into his shirt and plastering the fine fabric to his skin.

He feels sick. He feels empty.

His master leaves him to his theatrics, scoffing something about bards. Raike stands there, still as stone, as a man dies miserably at his feet, by his hand.

He murmurs the rites like his father taught him. He closes the man's eyes, tries to wipe the blood from his chin with an unsullied piece of his shirt.

There will be no funeral at the water's edge for this man. There will be no honor, no remembrance, no closure for his kin. This stranger dies another nameless mortal in the wilds, a plaything to be toyed with until it breaks, to be tossed away and forgotten in favor of the next curiosity.

Raike stands there, staring numbly at the body until it is carried off by his master's courtiers.

He watches the procession, and he sees his own funeral.

[clowningaroundmars]

page full o' hobies 🎸

top pose inspired by @spectra-bear

process pics under da cut ↓

[ganondoodle]

honestly cant stand how technically important demise is and yet how he doesnt actually matter or exist in peoples minds as a character, the only thing that matters is his stupid "curse" thing and its the only thing why he will ever be brought up, theres never really any thought around him that isnt related to the "cuuuurse", otherwise he basically doesnt exist in the fandom

to some extent its understandable given how little he actually is in the game but it still makes me sad and a little frustrated imo he shouldnt be treated like soemthing so unimportant given hes involved with the literal start of the timeline

and worst of all is how he and ganondorf make each other worse, like their link is completely deniable yet its like more often than not treated like gan is to demise what zelda is to hylia, but even that isnt used interestingly no, its only ever to write off gan as "well, hes just a demon, demons need no motives or character, they are jsut evil" WHICH IS SO BORING, and people will be HAPPY about that??? they go yippie gan is jsut an evil demon yaaay like the fuck???

it goes around to that other post i made about how not wanting a better written gan is wanting everything to be worse, bc a better written villain is a better written everything and there is only winning in that

demise specifically is just a sore spot for me since hes my blorbo, and the way even gan fans hate him for introducing the "cuuurse" thing just makes it hurt doubly, i get why, still its just so .. man i wish BOTH gan and demise were allowed to be characters, at least gan was a character at some point, demise has nothing ;__;

[moeblob]

Hello, can i have a modern sylvain pls??? PS: i love how you draw scrimblos

Finally another Wheel Spin and thankfully modern equals I get to draw someone with fish somewhere on their outfit. (Overlay layer my friend how I missed you)

[swagstar]

dispencer talk

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

misc. silly low-quality scribbles that didnt make the cut <3

[lunearobservatory]

@hibiscuslynx YES HE HAS TATTOOS!!!!!!

here's the full ref sheet from. originally an au that's. erm. it's not dead i have reference sheets so it's clearly. alive.

i've posted the ur gay sketch before for sure 100% here it is again oops sorry

anyway, this has turned into my standard florida design :) this boy fuct up with ink!!! good for him

[spearxwind]

It is my birthday today!! I'm 26!! And Adri turned 7 with me this month as well :D Make sure to have a swag as hell day today, for me!! Cheers!

[skrunksthatwunk]

nobody's doing it like itsuki yyh. i've been thinking about him and sensui a lot today but like. ok get this. imagine being a demon and this cute human guy (you are gay btw green hair and pronounsed and everything) shows up and tries to kill you and almost succeeds. you survive because you lament that you're gonna miss the finale of a show you watch/see a niche pop artist on tv (depending on adaptation, but either way these are your last words and it airs the next night), and he says he's into it too. you become partners. this man, shinobu sensui, is a spirit detective who's been haunted by demons his whole life, has been killing them with the complete, unwavering belief that he's right for it, since he was in pre-k. you being a demon does not seem to change how he thinks about this. it doesn't change your feelings either, since he fascinates you. you help him kill demons.

one day, your human is confronted with one of the worst sights imaginable, one that shatters his worldview completely. he sees demons being tortured and slaughtered hedonistically by a group of humans. he can't process it. he splits. your shinobu is now one of seven within his body. you love each of them. you love him. you watch as he pivots into a deep hatred of humanity, and of himself for slaughtering so many demons, and of his own inescapable humanity. you love it. you can't get enough of it. watching someone so pure and self-assured become confused, disillusioned, twisted, evil, broken, it thrills and captivates you. it's beautiful, and you egg it on. you make it worse, obsessively. you make him worse. you only want what he wants, really. but you want him to want it worse. sensui is spiraling and you don't steady him, you accelerate it and accelerate it, until he's deciding that before he dies (which will be sooner than you'd like, sooner than you know what to do with), he's going to end humanity. he's going to unleash demonkind on them and secure his redemption, his doom, his punishment. it's a baptism by fire. what a way to go. a very sensui way to go, and you love it like the rest of him: poisonously. you don't need a word of convincing, no argument (as desperate as sensui is to argue his case for this), not a second of that tape, to follow him. you watch as sensui breaks the fragile people he encounters, wrenches them into misanthropic weapons. he's amazing at it. minoru is amazing at it. he brings together his crew of heart-bleeding, self-loathing pawns, and in your downtime you and sensui watch human tv, share your love for animals, plants, the human world. you cherish, distract yourself with, and celebrate these together. they're what brought you together in the first place, and you will destroy them together. you wonder if he knows that these things he loves will surely die when the demons come. you expect he views them as necessary casualties in ridding the world of human evil. how deliciously cruel he can be. you savor it. you have to savor it. you don't like thinking about the end. that sensui will barely be alive to enjoy his victory. is he so convinced of humanity's foulness that he would never bend, never doubt his genocide at all? or would he come to regret it? would he hate himself even more than he does now? once the greater evil, humanity, is eliminated, would he turn his sights on himself? he may see himself as one of the "enlightened" humans who know mankind's evil, but he is still a human with plenty of demon blood on his hands. you want to know. you're desperate for it. you don't ask him what he thinks he will become. you want to watch it unfold naturally, for as long as he is around. let the ink bleed over the page. don't blow. don't wave the paper, don't even touch it. be patient.

your sensui is killed spectacularly at the finish line. he was struck down by a human reborn as a demon. how fitting. it's what sensui wanted, and you are happy for him, as much as you can be. it's bittersweet. you knew it would end soon. you both did. you talked about it all the time. and now it's... over. the portal is being resealed. demons will not wipe out mankind. humanity will go on, unaffected. your sensui's lonely war against his own kind is already being forgotten by the few who knew of it. such a beautiful moment, swept away by time, your sensui. and now his enemies want to claim his soul. his body. to bring him to the afterlife, for whatever judgement awaits him. and you fulfill your final obligation to him. you take him away. sensui did not want any part of that, and neither do you, not particularly. it sounds rather painful, all considered. you lift him and slip away to where no one can reach you. your own little dimension, your own little pocket of existence, just the two of you. no one can touch him now. you, either, not that you care. you hold him like you have for years, and think of your future together. here, where no one can reach him. no one will touch him or stain him or rip him or tear him ever again, not even you. but you will always be closest, and that's enough. cut off from humankind and demonkind completely. it's only you. and it's only him. you wonder how long you will live, like this. a long time. it makes no difference. sensui has broken completely, and you hold the shards of him. every piece remaining is yours, is in your arms, will be yours forever. you wonder if this should be enough for you. if you should be satisfied. you are. as someone whose last regret was missing a late night program, you don't see much point in leaving. what is there for itsuki without sensui? what is there in the world worthwhile? demons, humans, the rest of it. none of it would ever compare. not even to the shards.

you wonder, and it is far from the first or the last time, how sensui will change now, in your arms. white to black, skin to bone to dust. and when you die your soul will dissipate like his, and in a little unreality you and he will linger forever, where no one can know or recall. you will die a secret of the world, a potential wasted, a close call, a scream that is swallowed last-minute. and you will be together. it's all that's mattered for a long time. you wonder if you'll ever change. you don't expect to.

[freakshowcowboy]

update on making my mom watch glee .

[mercurymacaroons]

wip . ۫ ꣑ৎ . do you fw this twink

[alethiometry]

does anyone here play elder scrolls online

[phantastragoria]

GotG #1 spoilers I guess but bro this is so sad. She didn't even make it past half the dang issue.

[six-six-cicada]

"The crowd goes wild with applause... Over absolutely nothing."

*draws another fucked up dude* ok. bye

[wanderer-of-light]

Some summer time glam for the summer event!! I took lots and lots of pictures and attempted the jump puzzle, but didn't get far. I'm not too good at those sorts of things. These were while I was waiting for my friend to meet up with me so we could do the event together <3

[hyperverbal]