#colonelcupquake

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

found the best picrew of all time

(Alex/Adelina, Tahir/Myrine, and Finn/Eleanor from my silly little sailing story, Seven Cities)

(My Val and @/colonelcupquake 's Rona from our d&d game!)

[themilokin]

@colonelcupquake

Everytime I hear about Mind Flayer tadpoles, I can only think of frogs.

And there is only one frog worthy to get… evolved. I present you… Kermit the Illithid. (Forgive me, for I have sinned LMAO)

[focsle]

[ID: Digital drawing of a half elf warlock wearing a surly expression with his arms crossed. He's slender with tan skin and light brown wavy hair, and is wearing a red floral jerkin, dark pants, and knee high boots. /end ID]

Flat colored commission for @frenchy-and-the-sea of @colonelcupquake's character Casimir. Thank you!

[gwisincon]

𝓐𝓼 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓼 𝔀𝓮’𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓮 𝓰𝓸?

——-

HAL I’M SORRY IT’S SO LATE my shoulder is still messed up UGH. HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY I love you!!

Rona belongs to @colonelcupquake !

[villnis-archive]

half commission, half (late) birthday gift for @frenchy-and-the-sea and @colonelcupquake of their characters Fizz and Cas jamming <3

(commission info // ko-fi)

[youcantescapethehammers]

6, 18, 26 and 32 for the dnd ask!

6. Favorite death (monster, player character, NPC, etc).

In Pirates of Doom, we had this gnome wizard named Archibald Lucky-Legged. I hated him. He was a stereotypical cartoon pirate straight out of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney before the movie redesign. Luckily, he wasn’t in the company of a band of merry scalawags, but a crew of the most cutthroat and conniving sailors in the ocean, most of all Marie Flannigan. Archibald ratted us out to the captain for planning a mutiny, and for his trouble he found himself surrounded with black powder as our fighter flicked a cigar at his feet. We commandeered a new ship, which we named Archibald’s Tomb.

18. Does your party keep any pets?

Not in D&D, but in PTU we do. One of our party members plays an elder warrior by the name of Don Quixote (His relevance to the novel is tenuous, but still.) He has a Mudbray named Sancho, an Onix named Dapple, and a Purrloin named Shakira.

26. What was your favorite scene to write and show your characters.

Cassimir’s confrontation in the pocket dimension with his patron is definitely one of my best flexes of my DM-ing chops.

32. What role do you like to play the most? (Tank/healer/etc?)

I’ve learned that my favorite role is that of a disabler/support. Buffing the party is arguably more useful, but it’s way more fun to make the enemy squirm than bolster an ally.

[dalish-farther-roam]

Tavern Training

A little down-time stuff for Amon “The Weary” during his house arrest, after a very difficult talk with one of the NPCs from his backstory.  Posted here at the urging of @colonelcupquake @frenchy-and-the-sea @villnis @phoenix-failing @themilokin @urdnotgrunt @kelseyofcake

             “Ok, now you’re just making things up, what purpose can this possibly serve?” Val said, as she entered the crowded tavern downstairs of the Lesan Inn. She and Tara stood side by side, Val’s hands on her hips, Tara’s arms crossed, watching Amon and Rona.

              Those two were balancing in the middle of the floor, on one foot with the other leg stretched out directly in front, their supporting leg bent to a ninety degree angle and their arms held in front and, in Amon’s case, his tail wrapped around his torso.

              “Balance is the point. Balance within and without.” Amon said.

              “And why is Rona doing this? I thought you were learning pole-fighting, yeah?”

              “Amon needs to meditate and I wanted to keep him company… somehow… it became this.” Rona said, her voice taught against the strain in her muscles. Sweat was forming on both their brows and the tavern patrons were starting to take bets as to who would fail first.

              “There’s a sort of game- sort of training we can do next, but this always came first. The Masters said it was to establish balance but we novices always thought it was just to tire us out first.”

              “Then why are you doing it if you don’t even think it helps?” Asked Tara.

              “For Balance” he said. “Depending on where we were, sometimes we’d be balancing over burning embers, or on loose rock or ice or at the edge of a windy cliff, but that’s harder to do in a tavern.”

              “For which I thank the gods!” Called the Innkeeper, which sent laughs rippling around the watching crowd.

              “Right, well we’re going to go do some shopping for potions and the like – do you all want anything?” Asked Val.

              “Health potions?” Said Rona.

              “Better tasting trail rations?” Said Amon.

              “No such thing,” Said Val, “but I’ll see what we can do.”

                When the rest of the party returned to the Inn, they found Rona standing before a large boulder that she or Amon must have rolled in from outside. It was slightly large than Rona herself was. As they stepped inside, Amon spun around, whirling his booted foot into the boulder, which cracked, sending smaller pieces scattered around the room.

              There was a collective “oooh!” from the crowd, and Sarula watched as money changed hands. “What are you doing now?” they said as Rona cursed and Amon pulled his arms into his body, gathering the scattered pieces of earth into a solid boulder again.

              “Ok, ready? You take it now.” He said, and Rona dropped into a low stance, her feet spread wide, arms half outstretched, concentrating on the boulder. As she did so the others could see the boulder begin to shrink, the earth groaning, Rona’s face scrunching with effort.

              This time Amon stepped forward and slammed a steel-knuckled fist straight into it. The boulder wobbled but didn’t move or break. He punched again, and again. Small pieces were beginning to fly off, cracks forming. He rose a leg straight into the air and brought his heel down like an axe atop the boulder as Rona’s body suddenly slumped, and the rock shattered into pieces.

              “If I find rocks on my floor, I’m charging you extra!” The Inkeep called now, but with a smile on his face as he filled tankards for the gathered crowd. Apparently Amon and Rona’s training had become somewhat of a spectator sport.

              “We’re training.” Rona said.

              “You’re connection to the elements is undeniable, and the power you wield it with is overwhelming” Amon said to her, “but there is another power within the elements, and within you and the air, the gods and the planes. You cannot simply wield it like a god and overwhelm your enemies, or the environment, because it is in them too.”

              “That old lady really got to you, huh?” Said Tara.

              “She echoed what I’d heard often.” He said. “Ianry understands, that’s how fire feels, right? Almost like another heartbeat?”

              Ianry shrugged. “I guess, I don’t know what life is like without feeling that so how would I know?”

              Amon flicked his tail at him.

              Rona looked up at Amon. “I know that, I can feel it too but I don’t know what you mean by not wielding it like power. I learned to call in such a way that the wilds answer, but its also almost like alchemy – you call to a seed to sprout a vine, you call to the water in the soil and the air to make a tidal wave, you call to the little pieces of rock in a boulder, and it all condenses together.”

              Amon looked at her quizzically. “So that’s how you do it? That’s fascinating. I get that, to walk over walls I just kind of focus on the earth under my feet, and the air around me and sandwich myself between them, but it is already there. I hadn’t really thought of it like a science though.”

              “Yeah, what you’re talking about sounds more like Ianry’s magic.” Rona said, frowning.

              “Sort of, you can learn it though. It becomes more like… a relationship? Like when you look into someone’s eyes and you can feel what they feel, if only for a second.” He said.

              Rona and Val inadvertently locked eyes. “I think… maybe I think I can understand that.” Rona said.

              “Wait, so you’re like, having sexual tension with a rock?” Ianry said. “That’s not at all what I do.”

              Amon ignored him and squared up with Rona again. “Ready?” She nodded. “Remember, it isn’t about answering power, its about a relationship – two parts of one energy seeking balance.”

               They repeated the process until Rona was physically falling over when her rock was shattered.

              “Ok, I think you all could use a break and a snack.” Val said, from the table where the rest of the party had been resting and watching.

              “No! I think I figured something out!” Rona said through gritted teeth. She rose to her feet again and looked at Amon. “This is like fighting right?”

              Amon nodded “It can be.”

              “Ok, I think I’ve got it, lets go again!” She said, bracing herself before the boulder.

              Amon swung is foot up again in another axe-kick – the kind his friends had seen shatter bones, and brought his steel-clad heel crashing down. But instead of a crunch or crack, there was a soft “ptch” as his foot landed it what had suddenly become a pillar of sand. He wrenched his foot out and spun around, swinging the back of his fist towards – nothing, as the pillar of sand collapsed onto the ground. Not losing his balance, he shifted into an open stance and swept his tail at the loose sand, which pulled together into a round boulder which rolled away before becoming vaguely cubical and shuddering to a halt.

              Amon grinned ear to hear, gazing down at Rona who looked up at him with a fierce and wild expression. “It takes most of us at least a week to figure that one out. Now the real fun begins.”

              For the next few hours the pair took turns using whatever strategy they could think of to protect the boulder the others attacks. Amon often hardened just the part of the boulder facing the blow, while Rona swiftly transformed the rock to avoid attacks. Both were fans of suddenly turning it into a sphere and letting it roll across the tavern floor while patrons gleefully lifted their chairs out of the way. Eventually they even split it into two large rocks and let their friends and random patrons take turns trying to shatter it. There was little either of them could do but dodge when Tara broke out her Crab Hammer, which routinely showered those in the “splash zone” with pebbles.

              Only when Amon slipped on the puddle of sweat that had formed beneath them did the Innkeep insist the games end. Rona rolled out the boulders and Amon used rags to clean the sweat from the floor, too tired to use his ki magic.

              “Well, my star pupil, I don’t know about you but I’m taking a long bath.” He said, slinging his tail around Rona’s shoulders as they headed upstairs.

              “Ugh, me too. Do you feel better?” She said, tugging at the tuft of hair at the end of his tail to keep it out of her face.

              He whipped his tail side to side and paused on the stairs for a moment. “Yes, things make more sense, I think.”

              “You think? So I’m guessing more of this tomorrow?” She said, smiling at him over her shoulder.

              He grinned back. “If you’re up for it – you’ve got a lot of work to do yourself.”

              “MMmmmaybe” she said “Or maybe I’ll whip up a nice big lunch and just watch, I’m starving.”

              Down in the tavern, Sarula was smiling up at their retreating bodies. “That doesn’t make any sense to me, but I’m glad they’re doing ok.” They said to the party.

              “Monks relaxing looks exhausting.” Said Tara. “And messy.” She fished a small pebble out of her drink.

              “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to turn in for the night.” Val said hurriedly, already halfway up the stairs.  

              “I’m not!” Said Ianry “You guys want to play cards or something?”

              “Now that sounds more my speed!” Said Ievos, pulling up a chair next to Sarula. “What do you say?”

              Sarula grinned. “Sure, now that its actually quiet enough to play.”

                Upstairs, Amon was in his room alone, staring into the bright blade of the sword he called the Taiyang Jian, the “Sunlit Sword.” In his mind he weighed the teachings of his Order, echoed by Urgath. He saw the Planes in a constant dance of entropy, crashing into temporary balance before sending each other spinning off again into one another’s gravity. He saw his mother walking into the woods to find him, his sisters slung on each hip. He saw the yawning portal of water breaking loose of the mirror’s frame, his friends embroiled in battle against the Aboleth, and the shadows retreating from the swinging blade of light above the Black Dragon’s seal. He imagined Urgath’s hut in flames, the hate in the old captain’s eyes, recalled his own burning rage.

              Which way would the balance fall? Would the world be ready? And who was leaning on the scale?

[gwisincon]

@colonelcupquake

Just two cool frogs hanging out

[stumblingsbalderdash]

Interview OC meme:

Oc Interview Meme

Tagged by: @pelle-lavellan​ (○ﾟε^○)

Get ready for  Daylen Amell <3

1. What is your name? “Daylen Adonis Amell.”

2. What is your real name? “…..truely..must I repeat myself thespian. Daylen Adonis Amell”

3. Do you know why you were called that? “My father is obessed with the old fairy tales.”

4. Are you single or taken? “apparently you no since of propriety, but I promised Wynne I’d answer your questions... Taken”

5. Have any abilities or powers? “I am a mage”

6. Stop being a Mary Sue “Who in the void is Mary Sue.”

7. What’s your eye colour? ”I’m blind you ignorant swine.”

8. How about your hair colour? “This question again, perhaps you should use your power of observation.”

9. Have you any family members? “My living relatives are my half sister named Theo Amell and my cousins are Marian, Bethany ,Aiolos Hawke. ”

10. Oh? What about pets? ”I’m a Grey Warden, pets are a luxuary we can’t afford.”

11. That’s cool I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like. “Answering an absurd amount of questions”

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?   “Expanding my magical knowledge and repartee .” 

13. Ever hurt anyone before? ”Yes…”

14. Ever… killed anyone before? “Yes, I am a veteran of the 5th blight.... we had to finish our tasks.”

15. What kind of animal are you? ”A bat.”

16. Name your worst habits. “Being a maleficar is my wirst habit, it’s messy ”

17. Do you look up to anyone at all? ”Sereda Aeducan, she saved from the tower during it’s occupation.”

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual? “Again, where your propriety are morally questionable .”

19. Do you go to school? ”I was raised in Kinloch Hold...wasn’t really a choice to go to school?”

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day? "I don’t see the point of this questions, I am a grey warden.” 

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls? ”Well, that would be a sad sight.”

22. What are you most scared of? “Would it be unwise to expose my fears and weakness to an unkown.”

23. What do you usually wear? “Normally, I wear my grey warden robes, however I do own other grab for special occasions.” 

24. Do you love someone? “I do.”

25. When was the last time you wet yourself? ”Must you pry in places you aren’t wanted”

26. Well, it’s not over yet! "Sweet, Marker”

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class) ”I would have been up class but I was born with magic so I have no class.”

28. How many friends do you have? “My Grey Warden comrades.”

29. What are your thoughts on pie? ”I...actually love pie”  *glares at interviewer*

30. Favourite drink? “A lovely  Orlesian Chateau Cheval Blanc .”

31. What’s your favourite place? “with my lover or in the Orzammar.”

32. Are you interested in someone? “Perhaps you have little understanding of personal boundries.”

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy? ”I won’t entertain this question”

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean? “Oceans are too fast and too foreign for me to feel comfortable, so let’s go with a lake.”

35. What’s your type? “A type of what? Preferred type posion?.”

36. Any fetishes? ”Did you know fetish means: an inanimate object worshiped for its supposed magical powers or because it is considered to be inhabited by a spirit .”

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive? “You seem keenly interested whom and how I bed someone, don’t you?”

38. Camping or indoors? “Indoor is perferable”

39. Are you wanting the interview to end? ”Andrastate lily white arse, yes?”

40. Now it’s over! “Oh good, I won’t have to kill you.”

THank you for tagging me: Here are my tags @frenchy-and-the-sea, @sakurabunnie, @pelle-lavellan, @colonelcupquake @becausedragonage and anyone else who like to try. (๑╹ᆺ╹)

[jeinu]

A bunch of icon commissions for a DND group from @villnis​!!

From the top: Amon (@dalish-farther-roam​), Ianry (@villnis​), Brenton (@themilokin​), Cavvery (@phoenix-failing), Sarula (@urdnotgrunt​), Taraqris (@kelseyofcake​), Rona (@colonelcupquake​), and Valtish (@frenchy-and-the-sea​) !!! 

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

FFXIV - Crossfire

This is one of those things I started writing ages ago and fiddled with for about four months before getting fully sick of it LMAO. 

Once upon a time, midway through the plot of Heavensward, Tritchet came to a very sudden realization, and determined it best to keep it to herself. Unfortunately, her siblings know her too well. Featuring @urdnotgrunt’s Onion Pock and @colonelcupquake​’s Wickit Pock. <3

~2400 words, set during the HW Main Scenario Quest, The Nonmind.

----

The primal hadn’t surprised Tritchet.

She was pretty sure that it hadn’t surprised Wickit, either. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn had made long habit of digging up discontent at the roots — usually just as it sprouted a big, ugly, aether-gorged flower — and Onion and Tritchet had been around for the ride long enough to recognize the signs. They had started sharing long-suffering looks behind Alphinaud’s back when the rumors of Gnath aggression had begun to crop up in Tailfeather; now they wore them in the open, standing upwind of the Nonmind’s reeking smokestacks as their party converged on the plan that they had already known was coming.

"... unusual for a primal to be summoned for something as base as a territory dispute,” Ysayle was muttering as their party stopped to huddle in the shadow of the mountainside, her brow furrowed in equal parts disgust and pity. “Even removed from the harm it does to the land, there can be no justification for that. Certainly there must be some secondary cause to push the Gnath so.”

“A primal may appear for any reason when there is sufficient will,” Alphinaud said grimly. "The Gnath may consider a territory dispute to be much akin to open war. In that circumstance, I can scarcely imagine that they would find it difficult to call upon their god for aid.”

“Which means that it probably won’t come around to asking it to tea, either," Tritchet heard Wickit mutter under her breath. A resolute furrow had appeared in the lines of her sister’s brow; she knew just as well as the rest of them what this line of thought was leading to, and she was already preparing herself to weather it. Sighing, Tritchet swung her lance down off of her back and sank against the wall behind her, twirling it half-heartedly in her hands to give them something to do. Alphinaud caught her eye sidelong and nodded, very slightly. He, at least, recognized the signs of her waiting for the axe to fall. 

“So we are in agreement, then,” he said, turning back to the others and looking between them all like he expected objections. “A primal summoned in this capacity — as nothing more than leverage to the Gnath’s disputes — cannot be suffered to exist. It must be destroyed.”

“A simple solution, when the Warrior of Light is left to parse the details.” Five heads turned as Estinien stepped forward, arms folded stiffly over his chest. Most of his face was still obscured behind the low curve of his helm, but Tritchet felt a nervous, prickling sweat suddenly break out on the back of her neck as he cocked his head and said, “Is this usually how the Scions of the Seventh Dawn make ready to engage a primal, then? By setting their great slayer of beasts after its heels and praying that she returns? By guessing?”

Alphinaud's face flushed. “What? No, of course not! I only meant —”

" — he meant that he knows that I'll be able to handle a primal," Wickit finished for him, stepping in front of the boy to glare up at Estinien's shrouded face. “And because he knows that I’m perfectly ready to face another. That, Ser Estinien, has never been in question."

To his credit, Estinien had enough good sense to offer a deferential bow of his head, which Tritchet thought was the only reason he was allowed to keep his knees.

“I meant no offense, Mistress Pock,” he said, with terse calm. “There are none among us who doubt you capable of rending the antmen’s god asunder. Certainly, by Master Alphinaud’s presumption, you have already done so many times before. Yet, do we not know painfully little of this primal’s conception? Is not every summoning different? Even with your successes, to set you against something we know a fair nothing about puts you in utmost peril — to speak nothing of those who may be inclined to follow you.”

Estinien’s eyes remained hidden behind his helm, but Tritchet still felt the slip of his gaze as it passed over the little patch of wall that she and Onion occupied. She looked away before it could catch her, stomach twisting in the strange, wrenching way that it had taken to doing when she caught herself being watched in his periphery. That Estinien was arguing was nothing new. He had already foretold the futility of their endeavor from the start, and seemed to grow more convinced of his position every day. But he was arguing for Wickit’s sake now — for her success, for her safety, with the same fervor that he usually reserved for Ysayle when their blood was up — which seemed to Tritchet like something that he wouldn’t have to do to prove his ever-present point. And he had even deigned to remember Onion in his concern, and her —

"We're also pretty good at killing primals, actually," Onion cut in from Tritchet's shoulder, mercifully dragging her attention away from the thought before her traitorous mind could run away with it. “We may not talk to big sentient crystals or get recruited by secret world-saving organizations every third day, but we still walk out of all of Wickit’s fights too. And since Tritchet has bested you at least three times now, I think you're the last person who ought to start passing out doubts.”

“Twice, actually,” Tritchet said before she could think better of it, and then winced as Onion’s head snapped around towards her. Her sister’s expression was that of someone who had almost missed a step going down a steep flight of stairs; she stared, narrow-eyed, open-mouthed, with a slow furrowing of her brow that was dragging her expression rapidly towards betrayal. Tritchet was supposed to have joined her side, after all — or, at the very least, laughed at her dressing down of the most capable warrior in Ishgard. Instead, she had defended him. Instead, she had given him credit where none was due, which her sister’s face said was the same as an open declaration of war. Even Estinien's gaze had shifted her way now, cocked again in that odd, bird-like side-eye that said that Tritchet suddenly had all of his attention. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat and shrugged.

“I just mean that it’s not exactly a bad idea, is it? We’ve usually made it a point to do a bit of snooping around before throwing ourselves at a primal anyway. And if this one has been called upon for what the Gnath consider war, as Alphinaud suggested, then that’s all the more reason to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

“A fine point,” Alphinaud cut in, as Onion opened her mouth to argue. "And one that I'm inclined to agree with. You have my apologies, Wickit; let us return to the Gnath and see what more we can glean about this errant god of theirs.”

Tritchet was only too happy to oblige.

——

They spent the better part of an afternoon scuttling around the pungent outcropping of sulfurous rock where the Gnath — or the Vath, as they were soon corrected — made their home, asking after scraps of information on the recently-risen god. Their responses were vastly unhelpful; warnings, mostly, and pleas to turn their attention elsewhere, as well as thinly-veiled attempts to bribe one last free meal of nanka flesh from the end of Wickit’s axe. The latter were nearly enough to make Wickit strike out for the primal herself, but Alphinaud convinced her to relent to their wide-eyed bids for bribery, and she gritted her teeth through enough of them to amass a sizable fortune of promised information. By the time she was stalking her way out into the Chocobo forest again, Tritchet had almost gotten around to forgetting the uncomfortable conversation that had led them all there in the first place.

A pity that Onion hadn’t.

"You're still not off the hook, you know," her sister said, the very minute out of earshot. They had elected to follow the very irritated Wickit back out to the riverbed so she could vent her frustration on some very oblivious nanka, and were staying a full cart’s length behind her to avoid catching the edges of her axe. “And don’t bother trying to tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know you do.”

“Do I?” said Tritchet mildly, even as her stomach did a series of turns that would have made a circus performer jealous. “My goodness, I must be a mind reader now too. Maybe I should be the one to talk to the Vath this time. We might have better luck then —”

“You like him, don’t you?”

The flips that Tritchet's stomach was doing suddenly dropped into free-fall. She cleared her throat. “Like who?”

"Shut up,” Onion snapped. “You know exactly who I'm talking about. But just so you don’t try to play dumb again; tall. Spiky. Carries around a gross dragon eyeball in his pocket like a real weirdo. He made it sound like you and I couldn’t handle that primal, and you didn’t even bat an eye. If anyone else had said that, you would have skewered them!”

“That’s not what he said,” Tritchet muttered, tightening her grip on her lance so her shaking hands wouldn’t give her away. “He just pointed out that we shouldn’t go into a fight like this blind, and that no one should keep letting Wickit do it just because it’s worked out so far. It’s a good point.”

“Sure," said Onion dryly, "but Alphinaud makes good points all the time, and they don't turn your ears red.”

Somewhere deep in Tritchet’s chest, a scream of pure, incandescent frustration began to burn, hot as a hearth fire. She locked her jaw against her teeth, stared straight into the forest ahead, and said nothing. Onion sighed.

“Okay,” she said, when it became clear that Tritchet was no longer trying to have a conversation. “I have some things to say. First of all; ew. Ew, ew, ew. Gross.”

“That’s three things.”

“Yeah, well, if we’re going by that logic, then I have a lot of things to say. But more importantly; Ysayle says that you need to be careful.”

“Ysayle?” Tritchet wheeled on her sister, voice pitching dangerously towards hysterical. “You went around talking about this with Ysayle?”

“She came to me,” Onion snapped. "Otherwise I wouldn’t have said anything to her. Obviously. But she’s not stupid, and neither am I, so she asked if I knew of anything strange going on between you two. Apparently she can tell that your weird dragoon energy was going absolutely nuts back there. You’re lucky I told her that I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

Tritchet let out a long, strangled breath through her teeth. 

"Strange,” she said tightly. “I don’t feel lucky, considering I’m still having to have this conversation.”

“This isn’t a joke, Tritchet.” For the first time, Onion’s voice hardened into something almost like real anger. She snatched Tritchet’s arm and dragged her to a stop, green eyes hard and bright as welded steel. "However you feel about him — which, again, ew — you know he’s about as stable as a rocking chair when that Eye’s around. Ysayle’s right to be worried. He’s prancing around holding onto a bomb, and the only thing standing between us and it going off is how hard he can pretend that he’s okay. And given how quick he is to start arguing with, oh, everyone who dares to have an opinion, I don’t like those odds! I don’t! And I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire if —”

“There is no crossfire!” Tritchet hissed, the fire in her chest finally bleeding over as she yanked her arm from her sister's grip. “There’s not anything, okay? I get that you’re worried. Don’t be. If, Twelve forbid, the Eye does actually get the better of him, it’ll be the same problem for me as it is for everyone else. There’s nothing — ” She gestured viciously to herself. “ — nothing here, okay? So stop worrying. It’s just…. fine.”

She huffed and turned back to the path in front of them, trying to look everywhere but her sister’s direction. Her face felt like she had pressed it to a cookfire, bright and red and stinging with something halfway between shame and fury. She should have stayed back at camp; she should have stayed back in Ishgard. Better yet, she should have insisted that her role as Azure Dragoon the Secondary was enough to support their trek across Dravania, and made her sisters stay behind…

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Onion’s diamond-hard expression crack at the corners, just a little.

“I’m sure it’s not nothing,” her sister said after a moment, fiercely, like she couldn’t quite shake the last of her irritation away from her concern. Tritchet let out a sigh through clenched teeth. Definitely should have stayed in Ishgard.

“I don’t know,” she said tightly. “Maybe. Maybe not. What I’m not trying to do is make a big thing of it. So just…would you tell Ysayle that I’m not stupid? That I know how bad things could get and I’m not going to throw myself on that pyre? And then could you never, ever talk about this with her or anyone else ever again? It’s bad enough to think that now you will start having some weird ideas every time I so much as speak to him —”

“You could stop speaking to him,” said Onion sweetly. And then, when Tritchet’s glare almost lit her on fire, “Fine! Fine. I won’t say anything. But understand this; if he so much as puts one stupid spiky finger over the line —”

“I’m sure he’s got other problems,” Tritchet said, rolling her eyes. “The endless horde of incensed dragons descending on his homeland, maybe. Or the war-fed primal standing in our way! Or maybe just a really long hike in those awful greaves of his. There’s a laundry list of things for all of us to concern ourselves with instead, and I’d really, really rather focus on those.”

“Would you?” A third voice suddenly rang out from ahead of them, and Tritchet turned just in time to catch the reeking, river-gorged sack that was flung her way. When she looked up, Wickit was glaring at them from the middle of the river, soaked from the waist down and burning with a dull red glow of frenzied aether. “Boy, am I glad to hear it. Now maybe I can finally get a little help with this!”

Tritchet scowled and slung the dripping sack over her shoulder with a wet slap. Next time, she thought. Next time, she was saving the world alone.

[gwisincon]

@colonelcupquake @kombits

[gwisincon]

Ayyyyy quick commission for @frenchy-and-the-sea of the Tea Party Trio from our DND game. Zeph, Mira, and Failbhe.

Want me to shittily sketch your OC as an Animal Crossing villager? Want me to sketch your character and your favorite villager hanging out? Throw me 5 bucks a character and we got a deal lmao.

@colonelcupquake @kombits here are your children.

[villnis-archive]

Halra! she's so lovely

I SHOULD DRAW HER AGAIN YOU’RE RIGHT

[youcantescapethehammers]

A couple picrews feat. my girls! Inspired by posts from @frenchy-and-the-sea and @colonelcupquake.

From left to right, top to bottom:

[D&D] Kimki, the Ill-Fated: Goblin revolutionary wild mage. Never met a riot she didn’t love.

[D&D]  Marie Flannigan: Fisherwoman, pirate, and warlock of the Great Old One. May be slowly mutating into deep sea nightmare fuel.

[Unnamed Project] Angel Hillcrest (In a human variant): Funeral director, entrepreneur. Bane of psychics, mediums, and those who exploit the bereaved.

[D&D] Gunhylde: Human Fighter, Matt Mercer’s Gunslinger. Shield-maiden who is out of her depth acting as a diplomat.

[villnis-archive]

@colonelcupquake

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