#naut scribbles

[nauts]

messy eater 🥩

[ask-the-moonbase]

Canon(?) sibling interaction

[lumsparko]

Scribbled nauts

[smoshgoshbefosh]

For your spread sheet: December 19th!

Hello my friend! A very good day for a birthday.

Your is the first birthday where I can actually go all the way back to 2006! And that one is ICONIC

What Smosh Videos were Posted on Your Birthday?

2006:

Boxman's Christmas- Smosh Main

2007:

No videos uploaded December 19

2008:

No videos uploaded December 19

2009:

No videos uploaded December 19

2010:

No videos uploaded December 19

2011:

Nyan Cat Battle In Our Mail?!- Smosh Pit

2012:

Best of 2012 and a Challenge! (SAGNUT 12/19/2012)- Smosh Games

Scribbling Some Nauts! (Gametime w/Smosh)- Smosh Games

2013:

We Break Into Prison (Grand Theft Smosh)- Smosh Games

2014:

Christmas Apocalypse (Part 1)- Smosh Main

Holiday Headshots in Halo: Master Chief Edition (Game Bang)- Smosh Games

2015:

Christmas in a Blender!- Smosh Pit

Cold Shower Torture! (Cell Outs)- Smosh Games

2016:

Try Not to Laugh Challenge- Smosh Pit

Krampus Attack (Maricraft: Christmascraft episode 4)- Smosh Games

2017:

The Worst Christmas Presents Ever (The Show w/No Name)- Smosh Pit

Five Nights at Freddy's: Pizzeria Simulator- Smosh Games (All Honest Trailers were recently deleted)

2018:

No uploads on December 19

2019:

We Read our Creepy DMs- Smosh Pit

2020:

No uploads on December 19

2021:

Monopoly, but Everyone's Cheating (Board AF)- Smosh Games

2022:

Pharaoh High Full Episode Compilation- Smosh Main

Love, Actually Looks Different Here? (shorts)- Smosh Pit

Minecraft Mines are DANGEROUS (shorts)- Smosh Games

2023:

Do You Know What Cheugy Means?- Smosh Main

[mymomichis-blog]

maxwell from scribble-nauts

[seeasunset]

what items can be found in your muse’s pockets?, habits and mannerisms, something your muse could never forgive.

HCs!

❖

What items can be found in your muse’s pockets?

➤ There is actually quite a few things found in his pockets.

A compass. He always carries a compass around on him wherever he goes. Although he could tell which way is north, east, west, and south, he still keeps it on him in case.

Small snacks. He is used to bringing in his own food to snack on if and when he grows far too busy to eat. This stems from not eating three meals a day. As someone who constantly moving in some way, he needs to keep himself filled. Not only with energy, but with the food. The snacks are mostly nutrient bars or made-shifted ones back in the days, dried fruits, or something healthy.

Poisons and antidotes. As someone who has a large range of knowledge on this subject, he tends to carry poisons on him to coat his weapons with. This includes any antidotes that can cure these poisons. Although he usually carries one or two of the same poisons constantly - and it's found all over his body too, given he might have to reach for some if he is found in a sticky situation - he is still found with some.

A map / phone. He always tries to carry a map with him. Not only to help out with mapping out where he is going, but in case he gets lost. Of course, in his modern day verse, he has his phone for that.

A journal. As someone who is a captain for the Nauts, he has to record stuff in said journal. So, he has to write down every single detail from morning before going to sleep. Hence why you may see him scribbling in his journal whenever he has the chance to do so.

Habits and mannerisms.

➤ It falls down to what's going on at the moment.

In general, Vasco is observant and he is always on alert. The moment something is happening, he is capable of launching himself into action. It doesn't matter if it's to draw his weapons for battle, bolting if needed to run, anything at all. That and he is used to scouting ahead. So, he may see a small detail others may miss or seeing something ahead that others may not see right off the bat.

Plus, he is used to observing people too, ready to study their behavior and body language. Unlike De Sardet, who may play diplomat, he is far from playing said things. Although Vasco is great with keeping up conversation and all that fun jazz, he doesn't have the same skills as someone like De Sardet or Petrus when it comes to politics stuff, though he tries his hardest to navigate his way through. He is not hopeless in those kind of situations.

If he is found in an embarrassing situation or he is being flustered or soft, you can see a different side of him. The way he'll fold his hands together in front of him, eyes darting away, rosey cheeks, those kind of stuff. He shows a much softer side than him. Apologies being thrown about when it comes to embarrassing stuff. When he wants to hang out with someone or something of the sort, he will be repeating himself. Such as "are you willing to still spend time with me?" or "do you have time to do this?" He doesn't want to take too much time out of someone's schedule, especially if he is aware how busy they are.

Something your muse could never forgive.

➤ Betraying his trust and love in someone.

Vasco doesn't play around when it comes to having his trust and love be misplaced and betrayed. If your muse and him built up a bond where y'all can trust each other completely, he puts a lot of faith in them. If they end up turning around and doing such betrayal, expect him to not come back running. Crossing paths may result in having him treat your muse with a cold shoulder.

This can be seen in the bad ending for Greedfall. His trust being broken and him swearing not to sail again because of that. I would go into details for that, but, there is some spoilers involved.

[aquatickuri]

My Kurai and his Chaos bringer on Scribe nauts unlimited! He's kind of an old creation but I still love him

[scribble-naut]

Hey dude! You should totally go follow me on Instagram! I will post W.I.P's and scribbly stuff! I will follow you back!! <3

https://www.instagram.com/scribblenautts/

[lanciilatte]

good morning i am playing scribbled nauts

[nauts]

✨✨✨

[ask-the-moonbase]

Shoutout to @thegroduschronicles fantastic fanfic The Forgotten Chronicles of Dysfunctional X-Nauts on AO3, it only worsened my brainrot and made me have a good day and I mean that in the best possible way

Y’all should check it out if you like gritty sci-fi vibes, X-Nauts, and good writing (Definitely pay attention to the tags though. As of the time of writing there are multiple descriptions of dismembered limbs/organs, unethical science experiments, and a few violent flashbacks.)

(Link here): https://archiveofourown.org/works/39184662/chapters/98038947

[haledamage]

@queen-scribbles I'm holding onto the ask until I finish the other one ;)

petrichor - the pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of dry weather ❤ Nadia/Kurt (pre-relationship but well into the mutual interest phase) featuring Vasco bringing some big brother energy

---

"Oh good! Looks like the rain stopped." Vasco announced with an unnecessary amount of drama as they stepped out from under the tree canopy and into a clearing. There was no way to tell how much of the “rain” that had been soaking them for the last hour was fresh and how much had just taken its time getting to them through the thick foliage. "I guess we don’t have to sleep in the mud tonight after all."

Nadia patted him on the arm in commiseration as she moved past him to scale the stone outcropping they were hoping would be dry enough to camp on for the night. "Sorry to disappoint you, Vasco."

He took her proffered hand and let her help him up the wall. "I’m sure we’ll find some dark grungy cave tomorrow and you can make it up to me."

She chuckled as he surveyed their would-be campsite with a scowl, looking a bit like an angry, tattooed, half-drowned rat. "You really hate being landlocked, don’t you?"

"In some ways, it’s not as bad as I expected." He took his hat off and flipped it over, dumping water onto his boots. "In others, it’s much worse."

He stomped off to get a fire started as she helped the rest of their group up too, except Siora who left with a nod to go hunting. Kurt went last, as he always did, making sure the others didn't fall and wordlessly refusing any help for himself.

Once everyone was up, Nadia took her hat off too and shook the water off the brim. It had made a valiant attempt at keeping her head dry, and while it had succeeded in keeping the rain out of her face, her hair was damp and heavy. She took the hat between her teeth to free up both hands and started disassembling her braid.

“Let me help you with that.” Before she could reply, she felt rough fingers gently push her hands away as Kurt started to unpin the braid from its crown. She stood still and let him work. It wasn’t the first time he’d helped with it - he was surprisingly good at braiding hair, though she’d been sworn to secrecy about that fact - and she trusted him to know what to do.

She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy it, a smile growing on her face as she breathed in the scent of the clearing they’d chosen to camp in. Petrichor lingering from the earlier rain, sweetness from nearby wildflowers, woodsmoke from the campfire, worn leather and steel from the man at her back, a whiff of the ocean that told her Vasco lingered somewhere nearby. Teer Fradee was alive around her, joyfully so, and she reveled in it.

“I’ve missed that smile of yours, Green Blood,” Kurt said softly, bringing her out of her reverie. Nadia turned towards him enough to see his face without disrupting what he was doing, and he paused long enough to brush his knuckle over the corner of the smile in question. “Haven’t seen you smile like that since your mother got sick. This place has been good for you.”

Her smile grew even more. “Less the place and more the company, I think.”

“Well, I know you don’t mean me.” He finished unplaiting her hair and ran his fingers through it a few times, both to wring some of the water out of it and as an excuse to avoid her eyes. “You had me then too.”

“Not like I do now.” He’d always been good at keeping her at arm’s length, friendly but not quite friends, especially the last few years. But that had changed since they’d boarded the ship to Teer Fradee, and seemed to change a little more every day.

“Perhaps.” His brow knotted as he considered her words, like he was trying to find a hidden meaning behind them. She couldn’t tell if he liked the implications or not.

“If it helps ease that furrow in your brow, I can’t give you all the credit.” She reached up and swept her thumb over his brow, smoothing away the frown only for it to be replaced by surprise, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s this island. I never in my wildest dreams would have pictured that a place like this existed in the world.” She paused, tapping her chin, and her smile sharpened to a wry grin. “Well, maybe in my really wild dreams. I do have a very active imagination.”

Kurt chuckled, a warm rasp of sound. “You really know how to ruin a moment, Nadia.”

“It was worth it to make you laugh.” Nadia had to fight to keep her footing, unsure if she wanted to shy away from the way he looked at her then or lean closer to bask in it. “I’ve missed your laugh. I thought you’d left it in Sérène.”

“So did I.” His hand finally stilled in her hair but didn’t fall away, resting carefully on the back of her head. “You’ve always been good at bringing it out of me.”

“My dear Kurt, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She meant for it to be playful, but it came out barely above a whisper.

He brushed a strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Give me time. I can do better.”

A loud groan sounded from nearby as Vasco lowered himself to a log that he’d claimed as a chair. Nadia and Kurt leapt away from each other simultaneously. She met the Naut’s innocent grin with the best glare she could muster, and he held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t let me interrupt. As ye were.”

Kurt mumbled, “I should go see to the tents,” and left, not looking at either of them. If Nadia didn’t know better, she could swear that his ears and the back of his neck were a little red.

“Sorry, Nadi,” Vasco lied. “Didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

“Yes you did,” she grumbled, pouting childishly as she flopped down on a log of her own. She opened her bag to find her collection of herbs and dried mushrooms, hoping to get something going for dinner and also trying not to let her eyes follow Kurt across camp. She could still feel the echo of that last touch against her cheek.

And she could tell by his smug smirk that Vasco knew it. “Maybe a little. Might want to take that outside the camp next time, if you don’t want an audience. Just say you’re goin’ for a walk. Works every time.”

Nadia struggled to maintain a proper pout as her smile broke through. “Well, I was going to take you to some hot springs tomorrow that Siora told me are nearby, but I don’t think you deserve a hot spring anymore, dear Captain.”

“I beg your forgiveness, Your Excellency,” he teased, dipping into as deep of a bow as he could while sitting down. “Next time I just won’t let ye know I’m watchin’.”

Kurt turned back toward the fire at the sound of Nadia’s laughter, watching her light up with it, smile wide and easy, eyes bright, hair falling in gentle waves down her back. He committed the image to memory along with the warmth that bloomed in his chest from the sight, then turned back to his work.

[trulycertain]

The WIP Post

After months of being on orig, I’ve been playing with the odd fic idea... and both are for Eurojank RPGs that about five people actually played. Oops?

Idea one: Vampyr AU where Jonathan joins Priwen as a combat medic post-killing Mary - because they seem to have a bunch of information about vampires, and as a passive means of suicide because he hates himself.

Idea two: Greedfall, post-canon De Sardet/Vasco AU. To be more specific, the "there's a bunch of pining and the romance doesn't happen until post-canon when De Sardet is completely done with Tír Fradí and Vasco takes her on holiday with him on a routine cargo run to one of the Naut isles, where he has to go to get confirmation of rank and his commander's tatts" AU.

Er... extracts from both follow. Warnings for barely-there prose while I brush things into shape, and vasriable character voices while I learn.

Probably-unnamed Vampyr AU

“Sir. Someone... asked to join us, sir.”

McCullum looks up from scribbling a report on the events of Tuesday’s dismal patrol. “It’s late for it. You checked them?” They know he’ll do it himself again, it’d be nothing more than damn stupid to invite a leech to warm themselves by your hearth, but it’s good to get them into the habit. Small oversights get you killed.

“Yes, sir.” It’s Perkins, who’s still a little green round the edges but is shaping up well. Even if the hat’s too small for his ears, and he’s panting as if he’s run ahead.

He nods. “They old enough?”

“It’s… a gentleman, sir. Says he’s a doctor.”

And he looks up at doctor, unable to help himself, and brings the pen back to the inkwell. Old Len’s, well, old. Tired, and nothing more than a temporary medic made to throw bandages on wounds, splash it with brandy and hope for the best. It doesn’t mean he’ll take the offer, but it’s something. “Well, then. Show the man in.”

They do it the Priwen way. Perhaps if there were daylight shining through the windows, they’d be a damn sight friendlier.

The stranger’s steps are slow, and his hands are raised, but... even with three swords and five pistols on him, he doesn’t flinch. He’s either calm, or suicidal. (Or he thinks he can destroy the lot of them in a minute, with blood and shadow.) He looks right past the wheel of death around him and watches McCullum levelly, sharp-eyed over the guards’ shoulders. Not that that’d be hard for him. He’s tall, even by McCullum’s reasonable standards; dark, with a frock coat that makes him look like a hearse driver and might have been quite fine, once. And the beard says it’s been a long journey back, but he’s kept the short-back-and-sides that speaks of the front. And that pale, haunted look.

He just raises a brow and says, after a pause so significant you could use it as tar: “Good evening.” And evening is putting it mildly, they’re in the back end of night and about to head into morning. Still, politeness, other than yes-sir no-sir brothers-let-us-eat, is always interesting to find. Especially when a man’s treating this much weaponry like it’s just a faux pas at some tea party.

“You look like it’s been a long night, sir,” McCullum says, keeping his voice airy even while he has his eyes on the three men he could command to shoot, allowing the sarcasm to drop into sir.  He’s tired, and there’s a reason Priwen doesn’t get many midnight visitors in one of the rougher parts of the district. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had the ‘flu.” They wouldn’t have even let a stranger in the door, if they’d thought so. Or if he’d seemed like a leech.

Their visitor says, “Seeing as half the doctors in London still struggle to make a diagnosis, I’d like to see your notes.” It’s testy, and there’s a certain weariness in it that’s familiar from every time McCullum’s had a nurse or a doctor sigh or cluck over him. It makes his people – butcher’s sons and drivers, to a one – fidget, with the urgency of old, know your place instincts.

McCullum’s never had much time for that sort of thing. He raises a brow. “You’d know, then?”

The stranger grimaces, rubbing at his forehead, and for a moment that cut-glass primness cracks. “I’m… sorry, there have been a few too many night shifts.” The stranger looks away, swiftly, and something wistful crosses his face. Then it’s clamped down again, under all that English, officer reserve. “I practised here, and at the front. In fact, that’s why I’m here. To offer my services, if I may.” He hesitates and shifts forwards and just for a moment, he looks like he might offer his hand, too – as if interviewing for a position. That shouldn’t be so comical as it is.

“With Priwen? Why the hell would you do that?”

He’s got an accent that says the Brotherhood, not Priwen. He’s tall, with that straight-backed, confident-toff posture that time overseas has probably only worsened. And he looks like he’s about to drop. McCullum’s seen staff at the Pembroke scurrying home from their rounds, and they’ve looked better.

The hint of a sigh, like this is all some ridiculous game to him, and the doctor raises his hand to his collar. At least twelve hands twitch on blade-hilts and triggers, but McCullum raises a palm and they respect him enough to stop. The doctor looks around, sharp-eyed, and then nods with a prim schoolteacher’s relief that they’ve come to their senses. He unbuttons his collar, and tugs it aside.

So that’s why - and now McCullum has to tug hard on the guards’ respect and pull them back like they’re dogs at a bone. Even the doctor seems startled at the ferocity of their response, though he hides it fast under the tightening of his jaw. Probably angry at themselves for even letting him get this far. He’s angry they didn’t check the obvious, just left it at the eyes and the pulse.

There are two holes just by the throat – not the usual neatness one’d expect, but a little jagged, as if someone – as if the good doctor – fought back with a vengeance.

“It damn near killed me,” the doctor says, quietly. “And my sister...” He chokes on that and looks like he’s had a swift kick, before he recovers himself. McCullum understands that well enough. “Believe me, I have no fondness for whatever did this.” Softer, now: “And I need to understand why. Before more people are...” He swallows, thinks better of what he was probably about to say. “...harmed.”

His eyes are wide and troubled, but the resigned sort of troubled, not the wants-a-fight variety. Like he’s not all here and somewhere in him, he still doesn’t believe this is happening. Few people survive a leech attack, but he’s seen enough of that face in the men coming back from the war, too: ones who believed that God, or their names, or luck would protect them and ended up crawling face-down in the dirt instead. Some of them, their bodies come back, but their souls never do. Same way McCullum has half of him back in a crumbling house in Dublin. But unlike him, the doctor’s out of his depth.

McCullum steps forwards to examine the holes, and they’re deep. Must have hurt like a bastard. Something powerful did this. Definitely not a neonate. Probably… something at the back of his mind mutters ekon, but he refuses to use the nonsense names they try and civilise themselves with. A monster is a monster. It’s damn lucky that the doctor’s walked away.

Damn lucky.

He doesn’t smell the stink of human blood that never quite comes out of their clothes, or see the tinge of red around the eyes that suggests a recent feed, on something with a soul. (They can never stop themselves for long. They all come back to it, in the end. And then the memories stay in their eyes.) The doctor stares him down, obviously uncomfortable but refusing to move. No. Blue, and such an uncannily pale blue that he’d think leech, if he hadn’t seen it on just enough humans before. Bloodshot and bloody exhausted, but not that inhuman, wrong tinge of red.

“Let me check your teeth,” he says.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, and there’s the posh-boy disbelief. It’s better than the absent-eyed shell shock; he’ll take it. “Is that really - ?”

“Teeth.”

They can tuck them away well enough, but most are too lazy to bother. It’s muscle memory, to walk about as they are. And besides, what leech would be stupid enough to walk into a room full of the Guard of Priwen and ask for a job? They’re arrogant, but they like to think they have more class than that. Less brass bollocks, more lurking in the shadows.

Bontemps

"De Sardet?" She looks at him - him, not the memory from months ago. His eyes are concerned. "You were some miles away there." She lies, "I was just thinking... Bontemps. Not a place I've heard of." "No. I doubt you would have." And she'd suspected, but the carefully-casual way he says it, the way he minutely shifts against the wall and the leather creaking of that new commander's coat... She stares at him. "A Naut isle, then?" "Indeed." "Am I allowed to know this?" He snorts. "You know too much already." The shifting turns to a tidal wave. "That brings me to my next point, actually." He takes his hands from the wall and turns to her, truly looks at her, then. "I have a... proposition for you." And the mulish way he says it, the slightest raise of his eyebrows, means he knows how that could sound. He sees her suppressing a smile and half-sighs; when they first met, he wouldn't even have let her have that, and it tells her he's not unamused. She settles for the other way to cheerfully misunderstand him. "I don't think tattoos would suit me as well as they do you, Vasco."

"No, I - " He exhales, and smooths a hand over the wall. She wonders if part of him is still wishing for the creak of wood and the sway of a ship; the way she misses her mother's laughter and Constantin regaling her with some tall tale and proper Serene tea, will always miss them. Out of command and out of a fight, he isn't wearing his gloves, and two curving lines show as his sleeve rides up - swiftly hidden as it pulls down again. He pauses, as if gathering his courage, and then, in an exhale: "You said you hoped you'd be able to sail with me again, once. Did you mean that?" "I meant it." She grins askance at him. "I really did have no complaints about the crossing." And he smiles, swift and contained but with less of that uncertainty now. In the first days they knew each other, he'd seemed... warmed, but reluctantly, wondering why a noble was buttering him up; was asking about the lines on his face and listening to stories of storm crossings and a man caught in a rope, pulled back overboard with broken ribs but surviving, in the nick of time. At least she'd thought so, until she realised somewhere along the way that it was... the closest thing he showed to bashfulness. He'd always been too self-confident for it to be obvious, but she saw it. He inclines his head. "I'm glad to hear it." He swallows. "I'm offering you that opportunity. If there's nowhere else you need or want to go. If you would like it." "To Bontemps?" "To Bontemps. We have room for a few more, and it's not unknown to have an outsider with you." He tilts his head and looks out over the market, and she gets the feeling he's severely understating it when he says, "Unusual, perhaps."

She realises with surprise that this is the thought he's been chewing over, the one he hesitated to tell her. As if she wouldn't like to sail with him, when there's... "There's nothing I'd like more."

He glances sharply over at her, surprised.

That was probably too earnest. The time withdrawing into herself, doing paperwork rather than travelling, taking dinner in her room... She's lost the knack of things. She adds swiftly, "Last time, I learned so many new and interesting curses. And you were quite a sight climbing the rigging."

At the surprised raise of an eyebrow and the way she suspects he'd be flushing if he were a lesser, noble man, she wonders if she's overstepped the mark. It was always enjoyable, to be sarcastic and to let him respond, even if for most of their travels she'd stayed away from anything that might be... misconstrued. She'd been paying him for the crossing, and even once they landed, she'd had the ability to make his life rather difficult. Even with him being assigned to her, she'd had no doubt that he'd walk away - probably quite colourfully, if he felt it necessary - but that was no reason to make him uncomfortable. But somehow, whether it's due to his own dry commentary or the fact he knows her better than most, she forgets to be diplomatic. (He had been. A sight, that is. She remembers the muttering below about He's actually in a good bloody mood, for once. Only a mad bastard like that would be in a good mood in fog. And then she'd gone above, and realised after a few seconds who it was calling down orders; who it was climbing down swift and sure like he was simply in a tree in a garden, calling something bright and inevitably insulting to one of the crew who'd made a comment. He'd hopped down onto the deck to retrieve the coat he'd tossed there - shirt soaked from the fog they'd had to pass through and the sea, hair damp and wild and curving into waves, new ink-lines revealed by the shirtcollar that must extend at least to his collarbones. He'd still been looking to the heckler, grin savage and joyous. She’d realised, then, that she’d never seen him smile before: truly, not the swift insincere thing he offered with pleasantries. The smile had lasted until he'd seen her there - and then it had fallen and he'd assumed the usual wary tired briskness, even through severely smudged kohl. A bow of his head and Your Excellency. I apologise for the delay, but we're back on course. And then he'd walked swiftly past her, orders sharp to the crew again, swiftly buckling the coat and jamming his hat back on his head, probably back to his cabin to find a change of clothes. And she'd abruptly realised she knew absolutely nothing about their captain.) She adds, swiftly and in a much airier tone, "If I were a braver woman, I'd ask you to teach me." He leans back against the low wall, crosses his arms. "If I didn't prefer you alive, I might take you up on that." But there's a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and she realises what that surprised expression was, when he glanced at her: he's pleased, quietly so, and barely trying to hide it.

Her realisation seems to make his resistance crumble: he grins at her, sharp and swift and lovely like a knife in the sun... And she wonders where that thought came from. Either way, she can't help returning it. He steps forwards, hat throwing shadows onto his face, and looks at her with that strange, surprised, fleeting thing that he always seems to tuck away before she can quite understand it. He steps forwards, his grin falling, hat throwing shadows onto his face, eyes dark and wide. "De Sardet, I..." A noblewoman with skirts entirely too expansive walks past them, and they have to swerve and flatten themselves against the wall and try not to fall over it entirely. It's a new fashion, and one De Sardet has been only too glad to avoid. They watch her go in silent disbelief.

When she looks back to him, his hat is resting in his hands where he's had to swiftly remove it, and he looks like he's gritting his teeth. Then it's gone, and he says, with a captain's brisk professionalism, “It’s three months’ journey. And we could be there for some time. I understand if that changes your mind.”

“Not at all. I… have few plans, to be quite honest with you.”

He nods with a relieved exhale. “Good. We set sail in a week. I would... like to see you there."

[wolfsnape]

Tag !

Tagged by @evolcahra thanks ♥

➼ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 : 12/20

baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | re-watching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night |

➼ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀 : 15/20

neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

➼ 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐘 : 13/20

closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

➼ 𝟕𝟎’𝐒 : 8/20

colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

➼ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 : 6/20

collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colourful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairylights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details |

No real surprise here as always

Tagging : @taeltalks @drawnecromancy @leesbian42 @cosmo-naute !

[patchdotexe]

get to know your mutuals!! when you get this, it means someone wants to know more about you, so list 5 things about yourself you want your followers to know. they can be as simple as your age or as complex as your deepest fear, as long as it’s something you’re comfortable with sharing. when you’re done, send this to 10 people you want to get to know better!! :D

:o boy howdy

. fun fact about today: 9/22 is, as best as we remember, the 9-year anniversary of us discovering we’re a system! And I Think That’s Rad

. ive been drawing since i was, like, 9, although most of my old artwork is missing over the course of several moves & computer issues. i do want to do some showcases of what art Did survive though, especially to compare old & new ocs because waow

. our favourite lemon demon song is This Hyper World, which is also the song that got us to actually commit to ���i want to listen to more of this”

. i never really had a human ‘sona i used up until i joined palanauts in late 2018? i mean, KG was a thing from 2009 to 2012ish, but that was about it. i didnt expect to like leonaut’s design as much as i do, either, to the point where i dont draw my fursona as much anymore because i keep scribbling a naut

. i never had a proper edgy phase BUT i DID have a danganronpa phase. i also had a bunch of sparklewolf (sparkle-lupe?) neopets ocs that i wish i still had art of. the neopets rp boards defined me.

[erarno]

De Sardet December day 12

lil self indulgent piece bc I wanted to scribble down a concept I had for Naut Castal and how he would look years after the end of the game.