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serpentface · 7 months ago

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The goddess Arweny, depicted in Setem-Whe ornamental style. She is usually described as a female elowey protruding from the jaws of a gigantic serpent, or as a small snake with a rat perpetually stuck in its throat.

She is considered to be one of many local spirits of the wilds across the vast forested region known as Nekhuatseth, and is venerated (and cursed) as the god of the hunt-interrupted. She is believed to lend strength and speed to hunted quarry, allowing them to escape predation against insurmountable odds. She is completely impartial, and will lend her mercy to an insect just as easily as she would to a person.

Hunters blame her when what seems to be a certain kill escapes, and pray to her when they find themselves hunted. In many places, it is believed that she will hide all prey if she is not appeased, and as such is left offerings of fruit and wine before any expedition. It is common in rural parts of Nekhuatseth to wear amulets depicting her likeness to ward off attacks from wild beasts.

A folktale from the Sykhilic cult (a Nekh and Setem-Whe religious order devoted to a lunar goddess, scattered in temples at the edges of wilderness areas) intends to teach youths about the dangers and impartiality of the wilds, and illustrates beliefs about Arweny's intervention in the cycle of hunter and hunted.

A young hunter walked alone through the wilds in the heat of the dry season. They were on their rite of passage, and as such were armed only with a knife and could feed only on what game and forage they found on their journey. They were three days in, tired and hungry and missing the comfort of the city more and more with every step.

The hunter stopped at the edge of a clearing to eat a few clumps of dry, tasteless grass. They chewed miserably and dreamed of the great feast that would be held upon their return, when they heard a sudden snap. The youth had only a moment to turn before a great beast seized them in its claws. A tyger had been stalking them, and now pinned them to the earth under one massive paw!

Thinking fast, the young hunter called upon one of the wild gods of these parts.

“Arweny! Rat-Who-Chokes-The-Snake! Please, lend me your strength!”

And there was a great rustling in the bush, a sliding, slithering sound, and a cackle of frightful laughter. And the hunter felt every muscle in their body seize with a great strength, and they wrenched themself out of the stinking cat’s grasp.

The youth scampered up a tree and sat in its high boughs with their breast heaving. The cat paced below in helpless agitation, for the branches were far too lithe to support its great weight.

The great beast stalked away, and the hunter cried out their thanks to the lord of the triumphant prey and nursed their wounds.

The young hunter walked along deer trails all day, but there was no quarry to be seen, and the scents were weeks old and unpromising. With hunger now gnawing painfully at their gut, they came upon a great river. There were water lillies growing in the shallows with thick, tasty bulbs, and the air was alive with frogsong. The youth crept out into the muddy water, hoping to find something good to eat.

But a slight ripple on the water filled their gut with ice. Their instinct told them to be afraid, and in the fraction of a second, they whispered, “Arweny, lord of the hunt-interrupted, lend me your speed.”

And in that same moment, a colossal riverdrake sprang forth from the murk, faster than the hunter could have run. But their body was seized with a great quickness, and they leapt into the air, high above the drake’s head, and came down upon its jaws, forcing them shut with a snap!

As they sprang away from the beast, they heard a wet slithering sound, and that same cackle of triumph. They silently thanked the lord of the biting quarry, and ran far from the river and its dangers.

But now, the hunter was near starved. The small insects and dessicated grasses they had found along the way did little to abate their hunger. They needed to make a kill or they would surely starve.

And as if by divine will, they came across a river hog hopelessly tangled in a thorny mass of dead vines. It squealed and strained with all its might, but to no avail. The hog collapsed to its side and laid still, chest heaving and showing the terrified whites of its eyes. The hunter sighed in relief and drew their blade.

And suddenly, the hog trembled and burst away, ripping up and dragging all the vines along with it! The hunter was frozen in shock. How was this possible? The hog was as good as dead!

And as if to answer that question, they heard that same slithering, the sound of something heavy dragging its long body over the dry leafbed. And they heard that same cackle, a laugh of triumph, as the prey fled and the hunter starved.

#arweny #nekhuatseth #blightseed #This is a rehash of some really old shit #META: Arweny is an actual living god and was once a companion deity to Hai-Taihe #She is far more powerful (as she is widely known and worshipped) but also consequently more immaterial and rarely ever seen #edit: fucked up my own lore and wrote 'Sethym' instead of 'Setem-Whe'#The Sethym were an ancient culture of this region that is now functionally extinct and the Setem-Whe are contemporary people #Both the Setem-Whe and Nekh are descendents of the Sethym #Arweny is the remains of a Sethym hunting god (though these connections are not directly known)#The spear Arweny is usually depicted with is a remnant of her former self

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jt1674 · 7 months ago

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#young marble giants #choci loni #colossal youth

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chlmtsdoll · 3 months ago

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hi hi ly and ur stuff was wondering if you can do like a little wedding like yk those pics of mike at that wedding with his older art haircut, maybe them at a friends wedding idkk ly <3

Omg ily yesss this is cute <3 I was just rewatching Breakfast at Tiffany’s anddd watching the new season of Emily in Paris so I felt inspired to do something classy and romantic 🤍 this is perfecttt

FRANCE WITH ART

౨ৎ 18 + | age gap, older/sugar daddy!Art, younger/sugar baby!reader, needy art, petite!reader, a little angst, fluff !

“Isn’t she just a beauty?” you sighed out dreamily as you directed your camera to the dazzling city beyond you, panning to the Eiffel Tower that was looking just poised as ever sitting beyond the sunrise. No drowsiness or jet lag was going to keep you from taking in every second you could of the beauty and scenery as long as you were waking up in Paris, France.

You’d been up bright and early but snug in your robe. Hidden away in your suite at the Ritz. The penthouse-like hotel room was Arts sweet gesture to go all out for your comfortability as you were accompanying him on this get away for one of his long time tennis co-workers colossal wedding. Being in this city has always been like a dream to you. Especially now that you got to explore it with the man you were no stranger to showing how much you adored. And he had you glued to him as often as possible too.

You and Art had arrived a few days earlier just to see all the wonders and sight out all the romance spiraling around every fountain and podium. Art planned out everything. Taking you to all sorts of historical eloquent museums, the most upscale restaurants with jazzy night life surrounding the two of you, catching the tower sparkle at midnight. You walked Pont Alexandre hand in hand with the strawberry-blonde and kissed above the waters of Puente Marie.

You didn’t know if it had been the aroma of the city, or Arts way of brainwashing you into staying in his world of poshness and high class wonders forever, but it was like something straight out of a movie. He truly made you feel like the princess of all romance and desire — You even got to be sweetness to his arm when he brought you to a few tennis matches the capital held. With he glamour of vip seats and rosé meeting your lips as Art clutched your thigh in a way that said mine as he peered the tournament.

It was something about everyone knowing who he was and wanting him right then. The paps, starstruck fans, his wealthy tennis friends, all wanting the attention of the enamored man — his smile with dimples showing contrast to his gorgeous features as he signed autographs and took photos with girls and even women much older than you. He was truly a magnet with an essence of adoration for his life post his ex wife and more wealth than ever, pilling on to his retirement. He didn’t have a worry in the world but his ever lasting fame and all the while you, his young, beautiful and spoiled beat, girlfriend that got to look too pretty and absolutely pampered by his side at all times. You just couldn’t wait till after the tournaments, when Art would be buried snug in your sweet tight cunt before you had even rushed to get your shoes off and the door locked properly. The way the pending man kissed every inch of your body, merging his own with you. Pulling your hair in wistful ways, rough in his knuckles but with the upmost love and care as he sweet talked you through his own pent up fixation of you. Heavy thrusts to your soft little body — and when you’d scream his name out at way too late (or early) you knew that he was going to shower you in jewels the next day.

He loved it. And he knew you absolutely loved it.

Your wildness only he could contain kept him feeling young, and he would do absolutely any and everything for that feeling of your girlish youthful smile to never stop making his heart swell.

“I woke up earlier than usual today. The wedding is at noon, so I just ordered room service and had the loveliest breakfast.. Art went out a bit before I got up and he should be back soon I’m sure. I should get ready, but god. I could just live in this suite to be honest.” Your giggle was breezy as you talked to your phone. You loved recording vlogs of all the beautiful places you got to see — and well, you could quite tell people enjoyed seeing what the girlfriend of a international tennis superstar was up on the daily. So that’s exactly what you gave them.

Your expensive and perfect little life.

You had been perched out on the balcony with your hand fluffed cappuccino as you gazed out at the filled streets and soft echo of jazz from down the way when you heard the muffled noise of your suite door being unlatched “Princess?” Art muttered softly as he noticed you weren’t still tucked away in bed. A grin took upon the man’s lips before he called out a little louder. “Where’s my girl?”

When you heard his voice, your smile had gone from dazed to stir in a quick shift as you got on your feet to exit from the window out look to find the tall man standing by the door with hands full of upscale shopping bags. There was no time for him store them before you were wrapping your own much shorter body around his torso. Art chuckled delightfully as he moved to embrace you back in his warmth.

“Mmm, where have you been? I missed you.” Your eyes met his gleaming ones, looking up that the man while he now cupped your cheek. His eyes half perched with colors of brown in his blue, your lips were already inching to lay a solid kiss on his fond simple staring back into your orbs with all adoration— so Art picked you up and kissed you just as sweetly before setting you down again.

“Well.. I supposed you’d still been asleep by the time I got back — I went for a little shopping stroll. Got some pretty things for you baby.. go sit.” the blonde bent to kiss at your neck with a sly smirk as he inched for one of the satin handled bags and your face lit up all over again.

You noticed one bag, a specially tinted turquoise blue and you almost lost all composure right then as Art brought it to you. He opened up a delicate box from Tiffany & Co. and your eyes fell dream like immediately. In his hands were the sparkling silver jewels you’d had your eye on for a good while now, you sunk your teeth into your lips as Art watched your pupils dialing with a grin of his own.

“I don’t care if it’s a wedding that’s not yours. I want you to be decked out tonight, baby. I want everyone to know how opulent you are, and that you belong to me.” Art smirked as he took your wrists in his palms to lock to bracelet around your skin that had a royal ‘A’ initial engraved in it. No matter how much Art gave and gave to you, you were always left speechless by his thoughtful expressions of love for you.

“Oh my.. Art, it’s beautiful- - and it reminds me that your mine,” you gleamed. “I love it.”

Your soft sigh of pleasure was light as your cheeks began to ache with your beaming smile. But the gentleman didn’t just stop there. He still was picking up more bags that followed and you noticed the Chanel logo immediately by the tag of course.

“That’s not all.” He tittered before slipping a gorgeously designed box from the bag, even larger, your jaw became quite loose as the case landed in your palms. You felt like a kid getting exposed to an entire candy store and Art watched you rummage, still with grace, through the box itself — elegantly wrapped in light paper as you breathed out excitedly till your finger tips graced over the soft pink flap beneath. You couldn’t stop your squeal from echoing across the room.

“Oh my god.. baby!” You were gagging on gasps as you pulled out the bag and your eyes ran over the gold chain along with your hands. Art chuckled as you squealed in pleasure and it affirmed that he certainly picked the right choice.

“We have a day left and I just couldn’t go back to the states without you getting one — and you already have the black and white so you needed just the perfect pink one, right sweetheart?” Art sat beside you on the king sized bed with a fond smile on his lips as he observed you. His dimples showcased perfectly and you couldn’t help but pout in admiration of the man beside you. You set the bag to lounge a hug on Art that made him laugh, grasping your soft robe to pull you into his lap with ease. Your arms were tight around him, but lips go in for a smooch that had Art leaning into your touch quick. His eyes slowly fell closed in bliss just at the sweetness that you were. Proud he got to spoil you time and time again — but the best part being as you never took a second of it for what it could be. Him just being a typical man, taking up a fathering role in your life to buy you pretty thinks all so you’d end up on your knees for him. No. He genuinely wanted to lift you up. And you just loved and adored him, and that’s what he always strived for in the long run.

“How did I ever get so lucky ?” Your voice laced with sweetness and sympathetic tones as you look up at Art with your fawning doe eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you.” You hid your smile under your bitten lip as your soft thumb graced over the man’s peachy ones and he just stared into you with all desire of your being.

“Course.” He rubbed the tip of his nose against your exposed neck in admiration before leaving a kiss there.

“Anything for you, love.”

You couldn’t have been more giddy as you finally made yourself get up from the alluring man’s lap, hand still in contact with his cheek.

“Now, I must show the vlog everything you got for me.” You implored with assertion, but nothing could drive away from your girlish giggle that escaped as you skipped for your phone to which Art leaned out of your way for you to grab with a soft chuckle. “Okay, you guys aren’t going to believe me when I show you what Art got me…” your stammering blush matched your excited high pitched tone, and Art had a wide and easy grin on his face — he loved watching your small figure pride around so bubbly just to talk to your phone. You really hadn’t had much else to do in your free time. There was no need to have your own career, certainly no grocery list, or even a worry for your future when at the forefront Art paid for literally every last necessity or just pure want that you needed.

All you were expected to do was be his pretty little thing — traveling around the world and occupying yourself only when he had been busy with tennis, so you had your vlogs. And you were more than happy with that as long as you got him.

Soon enough you were standing in the golden embroidered mirror of the deluxe French country styled bathroom, touching up your lipstick and hair. Your dress a soft silky pink to bring out your cherry colored lips. You tried your best truly not to move much to ruin the flow of your pin curls. You felt the most pretty and expressive you might ever had right now — and when Art Apr approached the door way of the room, he had to hold his breath for a moment just at the single sight of you. Unable to utter a word. He just viewed as he leaned there tall whist his button up just slightly undone, his chest being seen enough to make you peek at the blonde with a soft grin at his icy blues glancing over your own figure.

“What?” You titter softly as you acknowledge the man who now crossed his arms as his lips curved to show his nearly sparkling teeth,

“Nothing, you just look absolutely gorgeous is all.. I don’t know how you expect me to keep my composure all night in that, but it’s a special day, so I’ll allow it.” Art chuckled and you sighed into the marble counter top as you shook your head affectionately.

“Well, this is your work Mr. Donaldson. Everything I have on you got me.” You noted as you gave him a three-sixty of your heavenly body to which the man pulled his lip between his teeth not so subtlety.

“Mmm, your being mean.” Art groaned playfully as he leaned off the wall to grab your waist and pull you into him. Your face immediately got hot as you were pushed into his aroma, YSL cologne that you found all too sexy eluding off of him. “Your gonna be so adored tonight baby, maybe just as much as the bride herself.” The blonde inched into your ear with a rasps as he grasped your limbs in his hands gently and pressed you into his chest with flow. You nearly let his teasing pull you in — but you couldn’t fight the uproar of sudden thoughts in the back of your mind,

“I’m a little nervous for tonight.” You chuckled lightly. And Art kept his eyes beyond yours, with a slight furrow of his brow.

“How come ?”

“Well… I know a lot of your tennis friends are much older. With much older girlfriends.. and wives..” Your fingers went to toy coyly with Arts collar, and you glanced down while he already had been shaking his head as he noted your words. “They might- judge me. Because I’m much younger,”

“No. No, baby.. I know it’s a little different for you, versus me. You’ll always get the short end of the stick. I know.. but I promise no one’s gonna make you feel inadequate. At least not by me. And if you do get a look or two, fuck them. We’re in France. It’s a French wedding. We’re pretty on theme anyways.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at his wit, he always knew how to get you out of any overthinking so quickly with his pure charm and sharp-wittedness. Your reaction made Art smile down at you as his eyes followed your pretty face.

“You’re right. Besides, they’ll all be looking at you anyways.”

“What ? Please,” Art groaned before he chuckled and raised your arm so he could spin you. “You’re breathtaking. You’re impossible to go unnoticed and you know it, sweets.” You giggled out as he spun back around to him and held you close with his admirable wealthy laugh filling the air.

“But.. really, you’re the expert, do you think I look okay? I think they cut my hair too short this season…” Art peered down at you blinking up at him through your lashes and you shook your head.

“No. It’s perfect, at least to me most importantly. You look so handsome.” You ran your fingers through the man’s shorter golden locks and he couldn’t help but feel a heat rising to his own at the way you observed him. Fingers fixing every last strand or detail on him, to then grazing his jawline. “Perfect, as always.” You grin.

Arts blue orbs hadn’t been able to pull away from the beauty that was you below him, you just looked absolutely otherworldly in that dress, all dolled up. He liked to tell himself it was all for him — if it weren’t for the wedding fever going around he’d certainly blame something in the air just noting him to lock you down quick. “God, you look so fucking good in that dress..” Art groaned with a huff before lifting you off your feet and meeting you with a kiss. You couldn’t help but half moan and half sigh into it after your soft gasp as the man swept you off your feet. His lips adorned yours, and you were so pushed by the way his hands leveraged your weight effortlessly to collide with him.

Smiling slyly between kisses you mutter “we only have an half an hour before the caravan picks us up, Art…”

he could of taken your breath away but you managed to get the words across even through Arts hungry kisses. (You’d have to touch up your lipstick, again. If not the rest of your attire soon after he’s been done with you.)

“Yeah ? I can work with that.” The tall blonde grinned as he carried you out into the bedroom and your giggled trailed not too far along behind you.

#art donaldson #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x reader #x reader #challengers #i love art donaldson #mike faist #challngers x reader #challengers fic #challengers x reader #challengers movie #dilf!art #petite!reader #younger!reader #sugar baby!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #chlmtsdoll writes

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calamaroo · 20 days ago

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PROFESSOR NEMO THEODORE INKLING REDESIGN 🐙🌊📚

Design Elements :

Straight, but soft features

Skintone less vibrant, more gray

Look the most uncanny (or at least I tried)

Hair isn't actually hair --- it's long, fleshy tentacles (8 of them)

^ Tentacles and pink patch in brow can change colors to camouflage and/or show strong emotions (face turns red when angry, blue when sad, etc)

Eyes meant to appear colorless

Very squishable, soft skin

Some Personal Lore & Headcanons ! :

Used to live in the Mariana Trench, but moved to Sea Mound to have better access to the land, where he went to school and such.

He has two rows of teeth, one row of frontal white shark-esque teeth, and a row of sharp black teeth closer to his throat. Meant to look like the beak of an octopus (irl dumbo octopuses don't have beaks or squirt ink, but I do it for the rule of cool).

Can glow (again, irl dumbos can't do that, but it's for the cool), and similarly to his cousin, the colossal squid, he has a glowing ring of dots around his eyes.

He has so many siblings that he's lost count (irl dumbos can lay up to 200,000 eggs at one time)

Being a shifter from so deep in the sea (which is a rarity in my AU universe), he's prized by Shifter Hunters ( a concept developed with the help of one super dope @mildy-vibing ). One time in his youth (way before the Octonauts), he was captured by Hunters but was able to escape, but he now has a fear of going on land (where he was caught). He will go on land if he feels safe enough and/or has to, but prefers to with company, or just not at all. None of the Octonauts know about this, or much of his past at all, only Min. (Who I see as both his best friend and lover)

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

That's how you know I like a character, I make them creepy and give them trauma 👍✨️✨️

I love Inkling so much, I'm not normal about him, and I will admit it <3 🤭

#octonauts #octonauts fanart #octonauts au #calamaroo's art #calamaroo's au #octonauts inkling #professor inkling #he's my special interest character fr fr i love him so much <333

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ilreleonewikiart · 3 months ago

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TDIOBCB challenge - day 22:

Aegon and Daenaera's wedding in 136 AC

"The highly anticipated union between Prince Aegon Targaryen and Lady Daenaera Velaryon was a grand spectacle, unparalleled and captivating the hearts of all fortunate enough to bear witness. The Dragonpit, the sole edifice in the entire capital city capable of accommodating the nearly seventy thousand guests, overflowed with exuberance and anticipation as the two young lovers made their entrance. (…) The clamour was momentarily silenced by the resounding roar of a dragon, signifying the arrival of the bridegroom. The world seemed to hold its breath as Crown Prince Aegon Targaryen, adorned in a simple yet regal ensemble of dark blue velvet and golden filigree, strode into the Dragonpit.(…) Innumerable songs and artworks would emerge in the years that followed, all striving to immortalize that precise instant when every soul, from the foremost to the rearmost, pivoted to behold the entrance of the youthful and graceful bride. Nevertheless, words alone proved feeble in capturing the awe-inspiring spectacle that unfolded within those grand walls on that spring morning. The bride, the only child of the late Lady Laena, with her flawless visage adorned with clear, brilliant blue eyes and a cascade of the purest silver hair, appeared as if plucked from the pages of a tome, her very presence an embodiment of beauty. (…) But it was the magnificent gown she wore, concealed mostly beneath her house's sigil-adorned cloak, that attracted all the bulk of the attention, stirring deep envy and boundless admiration among many a lady and noblewoman. It was clear to all, even the most unrefined, that the gown was an exemplar of craftsmanship and quality; a far cry from the pedestrian attire donned by noblewomen in the countryside, woven from fabrics procured from merchants of dubious repute, in their delusion of appearing as capital ladies. This exquisite creation was hewn from genuine and precious white silk sourced from the distant isle of Leng, wich under the sun's gaze, gleamed with blue and silver hues, akin to summer sea waves. The fabric, inherently precious, was adorned throughout with intricate undulating silver embroideries, reminiscent of the tranquil ebb and flow of ocean tides, a testament to the artistry of Myrish weavers; even the jewellery was of an exceptional nature, forged from the most precious shells, the whitest mother-of-pearl, and the most delicate corals, all procured from the shores of Driftmark, specially presented by her cousin, the Lord, for this momentous occasion. (…) The prince and his princess looked ethereal, as if they were celestial beings brought down to grace the mortal realm. The splendor of the late morning light, filtered through the large oval opening in the center of the colossal stone dome above them, bathed them in a radiant glow, making them shine like stars in the night sky. The mere sight of the kiss they exchanged sent the whole arena into raptures."

- from TDIOBCB chp 2

(warning: these illustrations are inspired by an AU Divergence and have nothing to do with canon (book or tv show) events and are not meant to be reposted outside of their contest)

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debbiecolon · 8 months ago

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My second tarnished oc, Rem. He usually wears the nightmaiden twin crown, but I wanted to draw his face unobstructed. His lore is super meaty and I'm quite happy with it!

Rem is a descendant of the Nox, people of the Eternal Cities. He was raised in Sellia, well versed in Night sorceries and taught melee combat by his 'sisters', Nightmaidens who warden over the town. His days are spent rigorously training his body and mind, honing himself into a warrior capable of subduing the most formidable of foes. Easily identified by both his silvery skin and hair, Rem appears more Silver Tear than anything, yet his golden eyes speak of his heritage, which he is incredibly proud of. And it is perhaps because of his heritage that Rem holds very little love for the Two Fingers and the Golden Order.

Rem had been fortunate enough to meet General Radahn in his youth, and had been privy to the demigod studying gravity sorceries. He grows to admire the flame haired demigod and leaves the Sellian territories for the first time when he offers his services to the General, as both sorcerer and swordsman. He stood among the Red Mane soldiers in battle, dressed in the silks of the Nox, looking elegant as a dancer yet fighting with all the ferocity of a beast. His end is met like many others in the Caelid wilds: witness to the scarlet flower bloom, particles of rot saturating the sky, clogging the beauty of the stars.

He wakes after centuries, called back from a peaceful void to return to the Lands Between. His memories are muddled, mostly lost, but through adventuring he remembers himself, for better or worse. He remembers that wretched flower, and he seeks a power strong enough to oppose it.

Rem is an extremely quiet and emotionally guarded tarnished who borders on selectively mute, speaking little more than he has to. He makes very few connections but is not unwilling to cooperate with his fellows, seeing such actions as a great way to garner much needed knowledge. He gauges everything like a threat but closely safeguards those who win his trust and affection, albeit from the shadows.

Beneath his guarded exterior is a deep longing to return to a home no longer there. Caelid is a fetid wasteland and nightmarish shadow of what it once was, and it is the only time that he openly expresses deep pain upon seeing the remains of a land he once loved so dearly. It hurts more than he can bear to know that Radahn lives as Caelid does--as a shell of his former self. He does not hesitate to participate in the Festival, seeing it as a final act of kindness for his beloved General. It is a hard fought battle, but Rem leaves with Radahn's blades as his trophy, swearing to wield the colossal weapons in battle.

Though Rem was raised in a town of sorcery and has proficiency with night magics, his greatest strength comes from physical prowess. He wields all manner of great swords and colossal blades, overwhelming his foes with sheer strength and relentlessness. He embodies duality, using stealth, life sapping mist and poison to turn the tide of what could have been a heavily skewed battle. He does not see underhanded tactics as something to frown upon. After all, combat (and life) does not play fair. Aside from sorceries, Rem has studied incantations on a surface level, enough to know hos to cast a poisonous mist or mend his injuries.

Rem's loyalty to the red haired demigod is akin to a love that is all consuming. It was a love that felt unrequited, but his unwavering belief and devotion to honing himself into the perfect weapon caught the interest of the towering Radahn. They seemed an unconventional pair, but they both bonded quite easily through combat and a shared love of animals. Leonard, Radahn's steed, received many a rowa berry and nose pats from Rem.

He felt as though he lost Radahn twice over. Once, against the one-armed valkyrie and her scarlet rot, and a second time at his own hand. Though it was a mercy, to grant his beloved demigod a warrior's end, a part of him died again with the General. The loss is an ever present ache that leads to the nihilistic belief that nothing in the Lands is worth salvaging.

The pain of loss and his keen awareness of the loss of many others drives Rem down the path of becoming the Lord of the Frenzied Flame. He does so, not to spare Melina from a fiery end, but to bring an end to it all, to be the Lord of the lost and the broken. To put to rest all that distinguishes and divides, hoping that perhaps the flames will consume him too.

#elden ring #tarnished oc #fan art #digital art #digital illustration #character design #artist on tumblr

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jadegretz · 1 month ago

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Ling Xiaoyu: The Serpent's Hidden Lair by Jade Gretz

The jungle was a living, breathing organism, its heart a relentless drumbeat of life. But to Ling Xiaoyu, it was a labyrinth of green, a place where shadows danced and secrets lurked. Armed with nothing but her unyielding spirit and a worn-out backpack, she ventured deeper into its emerald embrace, drawn by a legend as old as the trees themselves: the Serpent's Eye.

They said it was a gemstone of unparalleled beauty, a jewel that pulsed with the life force of the jungle. But it was more than that. It was said to grant its possessor unimaginable power, the ability to control nature itself. And Xiaoyu, with her youthful exuberance and a touch of recklessness, was determined to find it.

The deeper she ventured, the more hostile the jungle became. Towering vines whipped like angry serpents, their tendrils as sharp as knives. Venomous insects, their bodies iridescent and deadly, swarmed in clouds, their stings leaving behind burning welts. And then there were the sounds, the eerie whispers and rustles that seemed to follow her every move.

It was as if the jungle itself was alive, a sentient entity guarding its most precious secret.

Days turned into nights, and still, she pressed on. Her skin was etched with scratches, her body a patchwork of bruises. But her spirit remained unbroken. She was a fighter, a survivor, and she would not be defeated by a mere jungle.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, eerie shadows, she stumbled upon a hidden clearing. It was a place of unnatural beauty, a serene oasis in the heart of the jungle. In the center of the clearing stood a colossal, ancient tree, its roots burrowing deep into the earth like the claws of a monstrous beast.

And there, at the base of the tree, was a cave, its mouth a gaping maw that seemed to beckon her. A chill ran down her spine. This was it. The lair of the serpent.

With a deep breath, she stepped into the darkness.

The cave was a world unto itself, a subterranean labyrinth filled with strange, bioluminescent fungi that cast an ethereal glow. The air w …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

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guywrestlingaddiction · 4 months ago

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What Turned me Gay (not really): Pro Wrestling in the 90's

Pro Wrestling truly hit it's golden age in the 90's. It was a time when sexy guys tied strings around their biceps and men intimidated each other by oiling up their pecs. There was something magical about this time. The combination of colossal egos and a fresh crop of young jobbers each week created a spectacle that will never be replicated.

Ravishing Rick Rude and Stunning Steve Austin v Flyin' Brian and Sting

What turned me gay (not really) ... This post, inspired by the sidelineland.com blog, takes a tongue and cheek look into "what made me gay (not really)" and my journey of discovery would not be complete without examining Pro Wrestling in the 90's, an era that definitely turned me gay.

The Background It all began with an image. I can't recall who or even which network it was on but there he was. A jobber, trapped on the ring post getting hammered away by a vicious heel. Now while I can't recall his face, I do recall the feeling it left with me. The taught and fit jobber, the sweaty bodies, the satisfied smile on the heel. My young emotions screamed one thing; I needed to watch more of this.

Not the Jobber in the corner I remember but sexy Lee Scott will do.

It helped that my older brother was also into wrestling. Together we'd watch and celebrate or rag on each other depending on if our heroes won or lost. But there was always one wrestler I fixated on, one man I obsessed over for reasons my young mind simply couldn't comprehend. That man was Ravishing Rick Rude.

Grabbing that chest won't save you!

Ravishing Rick Rude and Stunning Steve Austin v Flyin' Brian and Sting (WCW)

Ravishing Rick Rude v Hawk (WCW)

Ravishing Rick Rude v Ricky Steamboat (WCW)

That long, muscular body, that alpha energy the man gave off, but above all it was those abs of steel. You could not tear me away from a Rick Rude match when he was flashing those abs into my television. Rick Rude awakened something in me before I even knew I liked guys. That persona and masculine energy was something I simply wanted more of. With that incredible body, those sculpted arms, that tough guy mustache all worked to scramble my young brain; Rick Rude definitely turned me gay.

Rick showing us the goods

Ravishing Rick Rude resting his head on a jobber

Then came another bombshell, one that a lot gay men out there could not get enough of, that is the one and only, Alex Wright.

The one and only, Alex Wright

Tall and smooth, while also deceptively scaling the ropes between jobber and heel, Alex Wright was Pro wrestling's first Twunk. The man was a stealth wrestler. A man you'd expect to be riding around in a convertible listening to techno music, but then something would flip and that man would bring the heat.

Alex Wright v Brian Pillman

Alex with Paul Roma

My favorite Alex matches were the few when he got to dominate. It was almost like waking up from a spell, all those pretty muscles in that huge imposing frame weren't for show - the man was simply so drool worthy you'd forget how imposing the guy could be.

Alex Wright fights back (sometimes)

Alex Wright was my first male lust and was all my youthful urges personified as a pro wrestler. The man absolutely turned me gay.

The one and only Alex Wright!

What made this time so great to me was that it was a moment when pro studios excelled at fostering young talent. Guys like Mark Jindrak brutalizing a young jobber, a kiss of the knuckles punch to take down Lee Scott, or in the case of Evan Karagias, being on the receiving end of the beatdown. It was the perfect collision of over-the-top silliness with raw manly emotion. This era simply had something going for it that I can't quite explain and haven't seen since.

Mark Jindrak vs. Elix Skipper (WCW)

Mean Mark (The Undertaker) v Lee Scott (WCW)

Paul Orndorff v Lee Scott (WCW)

Evan Karagias v Chris Jericho (WCW)

In spite of the beautiful smooth bodies shoved through my television, a stand out moment from my youth was witnessing the great Arn Anderson tearing down some poor jobber. It was like hearing music for the first time and realizing that beauty does not always equal pretty. For me anyway, the sight of a no-nonsense, tougher-than-your-dad heel like Arn Anderson in his prime was undeniably beautiful and wrestling once again revealed something about myself that I didn't understand at the time but would later come to relish.

Arn Anderson v Alex Wright (WCW)

Arn for the Win! Arn Anderson v Eddie Jackson (WCW)

They say, often when you think you're at the end of something, you're actually at the beginning of something else. This certainly held true as the decade drew to a close and something seemed to shift in pro wrestling. While the same sexy, hard bodies still clashed in the ring, it felt like a part of what I once loved had moved on.

Or maybe I moved on. You see, Pro Wrestling in the '90s may have been the spark that turned me gay, but before I knew it, I was fully embracing myself as a gay man. Your formative years are funny like that. No matter how much time passes or where I am on this journey, I still can't shake that image of a faceless jobber trapped in the corner, somewhere back in the '90s.

#gay wrestling #wcw wrestling #what turned me gay

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