#ive had this idea FOREVER

[calkale]

I am once again asking to be put in charge of the mission impossible movies because I need Keanu Reeves to play a villain in one

[jacqcrisis]

So Ronan the dragonborn cleric has his journal and a habit of drawing. Alongside his dry recounts of the day, the more spicy prose written in draconic that frustrates his nosey companions, and simplistic stick figure diagrams of action he can't draw properly, are more detailed sketches. These sketches are generally reserved for animals or plants, especially flowers, he happens across and enjoys, jotted down to the best of memory alongside the words written about the days events.

But between those, every now and then, are drawings of people, most notably people he finds important in some way. These sketches aren't hyper realistic or artful as his capabilities are amateur at best, but they are detailed and good enough you would recognize who they were depicting. He's not trying to become a master of the art, but just good enough that he can have a visual reminder of someone if they should leave him or pass away.

Sometime during Act 2, after the conversation with the mirror about Astarion not remembering what he looks like but before he confesses to feeling something more, Ronan notices his journal is missing. Again. It happens often enough that he's not worried, but he would like it back so he does the rounds around camp to see which sticky-fingered companion took it tonight.

After checking with nearly everyone save Wyll, Ronan finds Astarion a little ways away from everyone, sat near a torch and hunched over conspicuously. Upon silently walking up to him, standing just behind him, Ronan waits just a few moments until his presence is felt. Predictably, Astarion jumps to his feet, hand going for a dagger with the journal clutched to his chest as he whips around to face his would be assailant.

Of course, it's just Ronan and Astarion sighs in a melodramatic relief, commenting that they should perhaps bell the dragonborn when he isn't in his horrendously loud armor. Ronan grunts, holding out a hand expectantly and what follows is a rather typical back and forth as Astarion teasingly mentions all the 'dirty little secrets' he's supposedly gleaned from the journal while Ronan steadfastly asks for the damn thing back as he'd like to make an entry and get to sleep. But something's off, as usually after a minute or two the leather bound book is halfway into Ronan's hand, being pulled away a time or two, yet Astarion is keeping it close to himself, as if reluctant to give it back.

Ronan notices, interrupts Astarion in midst of being complained at over his assessment of the rogue's battle performance to ask if everything is alright. For a moment, Astarion says yes, of course, well as good as he can be starving and exhausted in the middle of this godforsaken place but-

And he stops, chewing on his lip, troubled as he opens the journal again to flip to the page he'd had his thumb wormed into this whole time. He touches his face and Ronan can feel what's coming before Astarion opens his mouth to ask if the person on the page is him. He doesn't even need to see the sketch Astarion shows him; there's a lot of the elf drawn in that journal.

Ronan nods and then immediately mutters something akin to an apology that his artistic talent is lacking, receiving a joke about how Astarion certainly wouldn't hang anything he's drawn by his bedroll that trails off. Then he's silent for a moment, taking the journal back to stare down at the page before he supposes it's the best he'll get. It's a want for a way to help that strikes Ronan as he watches, struggling with what to say and wishing he had some way to alleviate that grief, to show him-

But there is a way to show him, isn't there?

It takes some convincing and a promise to not probe into Astarion's thoughts, but eventually a reluctant vampire is standing illuminated in a holy daylight summoned eagerly for just the occasion. He's instructed to close his eyes as Ronan crouches down to get the best view he can and takes Astarion's hand to press his palm to a scaley temple. The connection is immediate, Astarion's sight filled with a clear picture of himself, of a face he hasn't seen in centuries mirrored perfectly through Ronan's steady and concentrated gaze.

He's given as much time as he needs, Ronan seemingly happy to stare at him as he takes it all in. There's something filtering through the cleric's ironclad concentration, made only more apparent at every observation and joke Astarion makes while refamiliarizing himself with himself. Words and phrases pop into mind, squashed before they complete like the sound of them being thrust underwater to muffle and become incoherent.

Comments about his features, about his voice, about the hand still curled against Ronan's temple, about how close they are. Noachi, that draconic nickname Ronan's given him that he still has no idea the meaning of, thought less like a word and more like a fond prayer floating through as Ronan chuckles at some quip Astarion makes about not remembering his chin being like that. But there's another thing that Ronan can't seem to stop coloring his perception and his thoughts.

It's not a word or a phrase or even a picture. Merely a feeling, a warmth, deep and radiating, growing stronger and stronger the longer Ronan is staring at Astarion. So much so, it colors the picture he's presenting as a glow emanates around Astarion that has nothing to do with the magical daylight or the nearby torch or anything about himself, as if that warmth Ronan is feeling is warping his very sight.

And it's a feeling that Astarion recognizes, has tried not to recognize for a little while now, ignoring and writing it off and burying it at every turn. A feeling that answers back within him and that shakes him. Frightens him enough, he takes his hand away, opens his eyes to break the connection.

Astarion thanks him, kind of, inbetween commenting that he hopes Ronan is happy he's probably satisfied his need to stare at Astarion for the evening before actually saying something that amounts to gratitude. It gets him another chuckle, and Ronan bows his head with a little smile, telling him 'anytime, noachi' before leaving Astarion alone. The daylight fades away to nothing and Astarion is left by the torch, watching Ronan take his journal to the rest of the rest of camp as he touches his face, lost in thought.

[archivegeo]

take a jacket just in case

[synthbug]

First time drawing the sillies pleasce excuse the inconsistencies </3 ^_^

[laurakearney]

flip off the camera if your name starts with em, you wear a necklace and turtleneck, you have the best chase scene in your game, and are totally slay

[ideeylic]

so why didn't you stop me? why didn't you stop me

[lorebird]

In which Ford struggles so badly to relate to other people that he wonders if he’s really human at all. The more isolated he becomes, the harder it is to reconcile with his own humanity.

[nordsea-horizons]

grizzly’s home and fishing deck🐟🌱

[skeletonlover69]

i've had this blog for 10 months now.

vent alert ig??

i originally made this blog to have an outlet to my less than common preferences on skeletons. specially on my BIG CRUSH on sans from undertale. which, you know. usually people aren't very nice about that.

i'm still really embarrassed (and ashamed?) to talk about what i like irl. i have people who listen to me, yeah, but they cant understand. i know they love me even if they dont get it but. man somehow it hurts, only sometimes. so i try to keep quiet about it until i cant take it anymore and i open my mouth.

how can you stay quiet when you love someone so much, though. i feel like i'm making a mess of things. but well, i know things will turn alright in the end. if i just keep as quiet about it as possible. my love will stay in this blog, this is what i made it for, after all. ill be ok. i gotta remember.

thank you everyone who's been kind and friendly to me. i never expected to find a community so open and accepting. ily all. ♡

[g1ngerbeer]

clearing out my to-post list heres some qpp content

[viarayy01-blog]

if making music centric au's was a crime i would be in jail atp

[wizards-and-t]

istanbul (not constantinople)

[arom-antix]

Smash your competition, baby

Open for higher resolution Credit to @neon-garbage-angel for the idea Close-ups, explanation, design, and extras below the break

So there I was, innocently scrolling Tumblr on a Monday when someone reblogs a post of mine. I go to look and find tags on my Judas piece that immediately katapult me into this piece and, as is tradition for me, listening to the song that inspired this piece on repeat until I was done. Due to stuff, that took three whole days. I want to extend a formal thanks and a formal please I will never get this song out of my head, thank you for that but I also hate you a little bit /j to @neon-garbage-angel for introducing me to Gladiator by Jann. This is canon to me now.

And because I couldn't decide while I was drawing, I did a version where Viktor still has his long hair. However, when I was doing the design sheet and really thought hard about my decisions, the short-haired version makes more sense so that one got the top spot. But have the other version anyway!

Here are some promised close-ups because this thing got intricate. I should've known. I was surprised anyway.

And then last but certainly not least: Me being back on my bullshit! Here, have an extremely cramped design sheet! (I apologise to anyone using a screen reader in advance, I'll try my best with the ALT YuY)

[somedecrepitcryptid]

TRANSFORMERS?????? HELLO???????

[avieaerie]

Have some sword dancing 🗡️

Description under the cut:

[ID: Mollymauk Teafleaf from Critical Role. Mollymauk is a purple skinned tiefling, wearing a heavily embroidered red and teal coat around his waist as a skirt, patterned leggings and a long teal scarf around his chest, trailing it's ends over his arms. He is facing away from the viewer, standing in a spotlight up on his toes on one foot, throwing a sword in the air while holding another behind him. End ID]

[roe-and-memory]

its been enough time for me to stop gatekeeping and Immediately talk about how, in a human au, i choose to interpret the night in cars 1 where lightning and sally talk.

sally listens to mater and lightning talk, mater slowly driving down the main road and lightning trotting along beside, talking to him through the open window. the conversation goes how it does in the movie, nothing much changes there, but when they split lightning makes his way into the motel office to get his room key.

hes Dirty. hes got mud in his hair and sally just cringes because the rooms have white sheets and she does NOT want to scrub dirt off of them. she tells him that, he cant sleep in the room if hes gonna track dirt everywhere. he just kind of winces and apologizes. its not like he really has anything with him, and, on his crash into town, he cut his arm open pretty badly and has gauze wrapped around it. doc still isnt too fond of him, and he tells sally that he cant really shower because doc will Kill him if he ruins the bandages.

without hesitation and out of nowhere, sally is like well i can help you wash your hair in the sink right here! and she cant even process her offer until its already out of her mouth. he gets a kind of shocked look on his face and is like oh! okay. that’d be nice. and they both stand there awkwardly before one of them makes the first move (its sally; she quickly runs into the “back room aka her little apartment” to grab her shampoo)

lightning wanders around the counter, studies the stuff on her desk, and flinches when she reappears. he doesnt really know what do to so he just stands there and waits for instruction.

they get to talking, conversation Basically the same as it is in the movie, shes helping scrub the dirt out of his curly hair and its dawning on her that maybe hes not an awful person after all. maybe he Is a little misguided.

its a generally quiet scene, a majority of the light in the little office/lobby is from the streetlights outside, and its very comfortable. they get more comfortable as they chat, and its at this moment that she realizes maybe she even likes him.

the end of the conversation is the same, he thanks her for letting him stay and Also helping him feel a little cleaner considering he hasnt showered in what feels like years (its been like 3 days)

the next morning shes talking to flo and she thinks she can casually talk about how lightning is actually kind of nice and flos like ohhh honey ure so in love with him arent u. she immediately gets flustered and tries to deny it and all flo can do is give her the knowing motherly look of “u love him dont bullshit me!!!”

her and sallys conversation, though, kind of opens flos mind up to the idea of hearing lightning out — maybe he ISNT that bad.

anyways silly domestic salqueen Gets me . i think stuff like this becomes a little tradition between the two like just quiet comfortable chats over random little things. do you get me.