#oh lord i need to tag all of this

[mothscotch]

2023 art summary :-)

(+ links to the respective posts)

October

November

December

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Danse Macabre

[Commission]

[jajatoc]

A bunch of eldens rings sketches I've drawn in the last months and that I will never finish

[bluebutlikenotalways]

Laddies we got an Au

Long post below the cut and some disturbing imagery, so be advised.

So it takes place after Pearl sunk Abalone and his fleeting. This time however her sisters actually stuck around to check on her after everything and actually managed to help her open up…some how.

Though her heart wasn’t stained black she will never be the same.

However she was able to build up the strength to talk to Lord Oyster again. She never fully forgave him for giving away her pearl, but he was there after the attacks to take care of the pirates who had somehow managed to avoid dying to take them to justice. This showed the mermaids that some cookies could be trusted. Because of this Pearl became a guardian for The House of Oyster and oh boy did that do wonders for their reputation!

With her making peace with all her pain she didn’t fully become Black Pearl and is kinda grey(-ish purple) I need to work on her design a bit more obviously, but she followed a lot closer to Crimson and takes her job as a protector seriously enough. Some may wonder if she enjoys a good fight more than defending her friends.

Also her sister and Frilled Jellyfish have her tokens to try and brighten her up some.

Through all this Lord Oyster swore he would redeem himself to his moon (she asked him not to call her that anymore lol) So he dedicated a good chunk of resources to trying to locate her pearl! This mission was passed down through the generations until finally…

Oyster Cookie had finally gotten a big lead and was able to send one of the best captains and his crew out to try and recover it.

Unfortunately they ran into a slight problem.

The sea the pearl was said to be found in was rough and could capsize a ship twice their size. Caviar wanted to go alone, but with a crew as stubborn as he they braved it together as one! (Candy Diver died in a different accident and Caviar still managed to find them and bring them aboard because he’s just that good at sniffing out crew mates.)

Alas it wasn’t just a storm.

It was a trap.

A band of pirates forged a letter hoping Oyster herself would show up so they could get a nice tidy ransom, but when a harder than nails crew showed up in their place they were far from pleased.

The Salty Shark crew hold their ground well, but being outnumbered four to one never seems to end in your favour.

Caviar was the last to go down and was thrown overboard to his watery grave like the rest of his crew. After The Silent’s crew was demolished completely the pirates set out to “commandeer” her, but immediately things started to go wrong for them. Things went so wrong that at least two were killed on their scramble to get off the boat while many more met their soggy fates as they threw themselves overboard in preference to whatever was on their with them.

Guess what movie franchise this is based on :D

As the legend says the captain pulled himself up out of the deep that night and sails his waters of the Duskgloom searching for his crew to bring them safely aboard and finally leave that damned place. However the captain’s kindness runs short with strangers who cross his path, especially those who fly the skull and crossbones.

The Silent is still under his full command and all orders are carried out will full efficiency.

Now Oyster wanted the return of her pearl to be a surprise with a big celebration after, but when the captain never returned and those she sent to look for him disappeared she had few other choices than to send her most capable guard.

[h-didanart]

hey y’all! I cannot find the original post for some reason, but do you all remember the first Bloodmoon Chaos House post? Pretty sure I showed off Fantasy, Ocean, Amnesiac, and Magic there for the first time

Do you remember this drawing?

yeah? Well I remastered it.

In digital

With basically all my newer Bloodmoons

:)

I love these guys so much

[opikiquu]

aventurine pl. Plea s e . PLLEEEEEEASE

[misterfaggins]

Book designs for the ringbearers (in order)

[ID: two sheets of full-body character designs for Smeagol/Gollum, Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam, lined up in that order. Each of the hobbits has curly hair, large round pointed ears, and large feet covered in thick curly hair. The first sheet has a light blue and yellow background and depicts the characters before they took possession of the ring. The second, set against a black background, shows them some time after.

Smeagol is a fat, freckled white hobbit with medium length dark hair and sea green eyes. He is crouching comfortably with a smile on his face. In the second image, Gollum is bony and emaciated, his skeleton visible through his skin. He has large, bulging, luminous eyes reminiscent of a blind deep sea creature. His fingers are webbed and his mouth filled with many sharp, pointy teeth. He has thin strands of curly hair.

The first drawing of Bilbo has medium-dark skin, short, neat black hair, and brown eyes. He stands with his hands on his hips, looking impatient. He is dressed in casual clothes. The second Bilbo has long, graying hair that reaches well past his shoulders. He wears traveling clothes complete with a navy blue cloak. He smirks back at the camera.

The first image shows Frodo as a tall, white, chubby hobbit with short dark hair and brown eyes. He smiles happily, a healthy blush on his cheeks. The second Frodo has long, scraggly hair pulled into a messy ponytail. He is emaciated, too-big shirt hanging off his shoulders, with sunken eyes and heavy scarring across his chest in a circular radius from where the ring rested. He's covered in dirt and blood. He stares into the distance with a hopeless expression.

Sam is a short, tan, fat hobbit with short red hair, freckles, and brown eyes. He smiles up at Frodo. In the second image, Sam is a little thinner, skin more pallid. His hair has grown longer and unkempt and he is covered in dirt and blood. He has a slight scar where the ring rested against his chest. In both images, Frodo and Sam are holding hands. End ID]

[mousemannation]

sorry besties had to remind u that this might be mouse man nation but i will always be a rafa stannie first 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

[butterflieswhisper]

tori sitting on the stairs is so. the lighting in heartstopper is awesome big fan of the blue/orange. is tori also depressed in the show i still think it would be so fucking funny to offhandedly mention her school burning down

[girlfox]

━

[starboy-squeakers]

Again not a dungeon meshi reader/watcher but every time I hear about that laois guy I get reminded of how my system had/has a hyperfixation on dragons so intense that we got that big fancy dragonology book and we treated it like the damn dragon Bible for like years

Now, obviously, we understand that there's different interpretations on mythical creatures, and no one interpretation on a dragon is necessarily gospel, but that multiple interpretations on the classic tale of beasts of scale and fire are completely valid and to be expected!

however if you call an Eastern dragon a coatl I'm going to come to your house and slaughter your family

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 63

Chapter; highlighted

Aedion and Kyllian kept their panicking troops in line as they marched, all the way to the banks of the Florine.

There was no use running northward. Not when the bone drums began pounding. And grew louder with every passing minute that Aedion ordered their legion into formation.

Stalking for the front lines, his armor so heavy it could have been made of stone, the lack of the ancient sword at his side like some phantom limb, Aedion said to Ren, "I need you to do me a favor."

Ren, buckling on his quiver, didn't bother to look up. "Don't tell me to run."

"Never." Close-they were so close to Theralis. How fitting it would have been to at last die on the field where Terrasen had fallen a decade ago. To have his blood soak into the earth where so many of the court he'd loved had died, for his bones to join theirs, unmarked on the plain.

"I need you to call for aid."

Ren looked up then. His scarred face was leaner than it had been weeks ago. When was the last time any of them had a proper meal? Or full night's rest? Where Lysandra was, what form she wore, Aedion didn't know. He had not sought her out last night, and she had stayed away from him entirely.

"I'm no one now," Aedion said, the lines of soldiers parting for them. Bane and Fae, Silent Assassin and Wendlynian and Wastes-hailing soldier alike. "But you are Lord of Allsbrook.

Send out messengers. Send out Nox Owen. Call for aid. Dispatch them to every direction, to anyone they might find. Tell Nox and the others to beg if they have to, but tell them to say that Terrasen calls for aid."

Only Aelin had the authority to do so, or Darrow and his council, but Aedion didn't care.

Ren halted, and Aedion paused with him, well aware of the soldiers within earshot. Of the Fae hearing many possessed. Endymion and Sellene already stood by the front line of the left flank, their faces grave and weary. A home that was what they'd lost, what they now fought to gain. If any should survive this. What would his father make of his son, fighting alongside his people at last?

"Will anyone come?" Ren asked, aware of those listening ears, too. Aware of the grim faces that remained with them, despite the death that marched at their backs.

Aedion fitted his helmet onto his head, the metal bitingly cold. "None came ten years ago. But maybe someone will bother this time."

Ren gripped his arm, tugging him close. "There might be nothing left to defend, Aedion."

"Send out the call anyway." He jerked his chin to the lines they'd passed through. Ilias was polishing his blades amongst a cluster of his father's assassins, his attention pinned on the enemy ahead. Preparing to make a final stand on this snowy plain so far from his warm desert. "You insist I'm still your general? Then here's my final order. Call for aid."

A muscle feathered in Ren's jaw. But he said, "Consider it done." Then he was gone.

They didn't bother with good-byes. Their luck was bad enough.

So Aedion continued, alone, to the front lines. Two Bane soldiers stepped aside to make room, and Aedion hefted up his shield, seamlessly fitting it between their unified front.

The metal wall against which Morath would strike first, and hardest.

The snows swirled, veiling all beyond a hundred or so feet.

Yet the bone drums pounded louder. Soon the earth shook beneath marching feet.

Their final stand, here on an unnamed field before the Florine. How had it come to this?

Aedion drew his sword, the other soldiers following suit, the cry of ringing metal cutting through the howling wind Morath appeared, a line of solid black emerging from the snow.

Each foot they gained, more appeared behind. How far back was that witch tower?

How soon would its power be unleashed?

He prayed, for the sake of his soldiers, that it would be quick, and relatively painless. That they would not know much fear before they were blasted into ashes.

The Bane didn't clash their swords on their shields this time.

There was only the marching of Morath, and the drums.

Had they gone to Orynth when Darrow demanded, they would have made it. Had time to cross the bridge, or take the northern route.

This defeat, these deaths, rested upon his shoulders alone.

Down the line, motion caught his eye-just as a fuzzy, massive head poked between Prince Galan and one of his remaining soldiers. A ghost leopard.

Green eyes slid toward him, drained and bleak.

Aedion looked away first. This would be bad enough without knowing she was here. That Lysandra would undoubtedly stay until she, too, fell.

He prayed he went first. So he wouldn't witness it.

Morath drew close enough that Ren's order to the archers rang out.

Arrows flew, fading into the snows.

Morath sent an answering volley that blotted out the watery light.

"We fight as one," Aedion called down the line, "We die as one."

A horn blared from deep within the enemy ranks. Morath began its all-out run on their front line.

Aedion's boots dug into the mud as he braced his shield arm. Like it could possibly hold back the tide stretching into the horizon.

He counted his breaths, knowing they were limited. A ghost leopard's snarl ripped down the line, a challenge to the charging army.

Fifty feet. Ren's archers still fired fewer and fewer arrows. Forty. Thirty. The sword in his hand was no equal to the ancient blade he'd worn with such pride. But he'd make it work. Twenty. Ten. Aedion sucked in a breath. The black, depthless eyes of the Morath soldiers became clear beneath their helmets.

Morath's front line angled their swords, their spears—

Roaring fire blasted from the left flank. His left flank.

Aedion didn't dare take his focus off the enemy upon him, but several of the Morath soldiers did.

He slaughtered them for it. Slaughtered their stunned companions, too, as they whirled toward another blast of flame.

Aelin. Aelin—

Soldiers behind him shouted. In triumph and relief.

"Close the gap," Aedion growled to the warriors on either side of him, and pulled back enough to see the source of their salvation, free and sate at last—

It was not Aelin who unleashed fire upon the left flank. It was not Aelin at all who had crept up through the snow-veiled river.

Ships filled the Florine, near-ghosts in the swirling snows. Some bore the banners of their united fleet.

But many, so many he couldn't count, bore a cobalt flag adorned with a green sea dragon.

Rolfe's fleet. The Mycenians.

Yet there was no sign of the ancient sea dragons who had once gone into battle with them. Only human soldiers marched across the snow, each bearing a familiar-looking contraption, scarves over their mouths.

Firelances.

A horn blasted from the river. And then the firelances unleashed white-hot flame into Morath's ranks, as if they were plumes from hell. Dragons, all of them, spewing fire upon their enemy.

Flame melted armor and flesh. And burned the demons that dreaded heat and light.

As if they were farmers burning their reaped fields for the winter, Rolfe's Mycenians marched onward, firelances spewing, until they formed a line between Aedion and their enemy.

Morath turned and ran.

Outright sprinted, their warning cries rising above the bellowing flames. The Fire-Bringer has armed them! Her power burns anew!

The fools did not realize that there was no magic-none beyond pure luck and good timing.

Then a familiar voice rang out. "Quickly! On board, all of you!" Rolfe.

For the ships in the river had pulled up, gangways lowered and rowboats already at the shore.

Aedion wasted no time. "To the river! To the fleet!" Their soldiers didn't hesitate. They sprinted for the awaiting armada, onto any ship they could reach, leaping into the longboats. Chaotic and messy, but with Morath on retreat for only the gods knew how long, he didn't care.

Aedion kept his position at the front line, ensuring no soldier lagged behind.

Down the line, Prince Galan and a spotted, furry form did the same. Beside them, red hair waving in the wind, Ansel of Briarcliff held her sword pointed at their enemy. Tears slid down her freckled cheeks. The heads of her men lay scattered in the snow around her.

And ahead of them, still unleashing flame, Rolfe's Mycenians bought them the time to retreat.

Each second dripped by, but slowly, those boats filled. Slowly, their army left the shore, every boat that departed was replaced by another. Many Fae shifted, birds of prey filling the gray sky as they soared over the river.

And when there were none left but a few boats, among them a beautiful ship with a mast carved after an attacking sea dragon, Rolfe roared from the helm, "Fall back, all of you!" The Mycenians and their firelances made a quick retreat, hurrying for the longboats returning to shore.

Lysandra and Ansel ran with them, and Aedion followed suit. It was the longest sprint of his life.

But then he was at the gangplank of Rolfe's ship, the river deep enough that they'd been able to pull up close to the shore. Lysandra, Galan, and Ansel were already past him, and Aedion had barely cleared the deck when the gangway was lifted. Below, around, the Mycenians leaped into their longboats and rowed like hell. Not a single soldier left behind.

Only the dead.

Light flashed, and Aedion whirled toward the ship's helm in time to see Lysandra shift from ghost leopard to woman, naked as the day she was born. Rolte, to his credit, only looked mildly surprised as she flung her arms around his neck. And to his credit once more, the Pirate Lord wrapped his cloak around her before he gripped her back

Rolfe let go of Lysandra, offering her his cloak completely. As the shifter wrapped it around herself, he said, "You looked like you were in need of a rescue."

Aedion only embraced the man, then nodded toward Rolfe's gloved hands. "I assume we have that map of yours to thank."

"Turns out it's good for something other than plundering." Rolfe smirked. "Ravi and Sol of Suria intercepted us near the northern border," he admitted. "They thought you might be in trouble—-and sent us this way." He ran a hand through his hair. "They remain with what's left of your fleet, guarding the coast. If Morath attacks from the sea, they won't have enough ships to stand a chance. I told them that, and they still ordered me here." The Pirate Lord's tan face tightened. "So here I am."

Aedion hardly noticed the sailors and soldiers making the quick sailing to the other side of the river. "Thank you," he breathed. And thank the gods for Ravi and Sol.

Rolfe shook his head, gazing toward the mass of Morath soldiers still retreating. "We surprised them, but it won't hold them off for long."

Lysandra stepped to Rolfe's side. Aedion tried not to cringe at the sight of her bare feet and legs, her uncovered shoulders, as the bitter wind off the river bit at them. "We only need to get to Orynth and behind its walls. From there, we can regroup."

"I can't carry your entire army to Orynth," Rolfe said, gesturing to the soldiers massed on the far shore. "But I can bear you there now, if you would like to arrive in advance to prepare." The Pirate Lord studied the shore, as if looking for someone. "She's not here, is she." Lysandra shook her head. "No."

"Then we'll make do," was all Rolfe said, the portrait of cool command. His sea-green eyes slid to where Ansel of Briarcliff stood at the ship's rail, staring toward the field of heads left in the snow.

None of them spoke as the young queen slid to her knees, armor thunking on the deck, and bowed her head.

Aedion murmured, "Let me send word to our troops to march to Orynth, and then we'll sail for the city."

"I'll do it," Lysandra said, not looking at him. She didn't bother to say anything else.

Cloak falling to the planks, she shifted into a falcon and aimed for where Kyllian now climbed out of a longboat. They exchanged only a few words before Kyllian turned toward Aedion and lifted a hand in farewell.

Aedion raised one in answer, and then Lysandra shifted again. When she landed on the ship, returning to her human form and snatching up the cloak, it was to Ansel that she walked.

In silence, the shifter laid a hand on the queen's armored shoulder. Ansel didn't so much as glance up. Aedion asked Rolfe, "How many of those firelances do you have?"

The Pirate Lord drew his gaze from Ansel to the black mass fading behind them. His mouth tightened. "Not enough to outlast a siege."

And even the firelances would do nothing, absolutely nothing, once the witch towers reached Orynth's walls.

[spidersunny]

i kinda should talk about bpd symptoms with a professional at some point so that i can adopt healthier thought patterns and not end up in a terrible headspace every time i am alone thinking for too long but also the thought of TALKING about SYMPTOMS with a PROFESSIONAL makes me want to blow up! i’ll get there though

[forter-from-meteos]

i will be "i should make art of a ranbarumban" and come out with two minor ocs and ideas for two more

[jackmerrideeznuts]

the infamous jack aita post by @pwippy in the form of a shittly edited youtube short <3

[not-so-superheroine]

deseret book is more persistent than duolingo.

i ordered 2 books for a church research project on Black saints in the early Church and also in the Reorganization, on which the one book had a small section us and all had info from the our shared early church history, and it was an ebook too!

and i get physical mail from them once a month. i have no idea how to cancel.

herald house, the community of christ publishing house, contacts me much less, and i buy books from them all the time.

and oh their church book app reminds me to read my scriptures and the words of their prophets regularly if it's not in sleep mode.

i have to admire the effort behind it, ngl.