#silvershots

[nuclearjacks]

Commission for @white-tailed-rabbit and his OCs, Backdraft and Silvershot!🧡🩶

[loopplaysgames]

Here's more of my designs I've made. Left to right we have Pinpoint, Forecast, Redblade, Firesight, Crackdown, Sky-High, Wingbreak, Linesight, Limelight, Bluewave, Divebomb, Silvershot

[commanderhorncleaver]

A Basic Timeline to the Life of Gaius Horncleaver

1275 AE: Iron Legionnaire Stella Silvershot’s warband is captured by Flame Legion and taken as prisoners of war. 1277 AE: Sired by Oryen Crimsondew, a high ranking shaman, Gaius is born to Silvershot. 1279 AE: Stella escapes captivity with her cub, unaware if any of her warband remain. She eventually makes it to the Black Citadel. Stella relinquishes Gaius to the fahrar, and goes on her final patrol. 1280-1294 AE: Gaius attends the Black Citadel's Fahrar of Young Heroes, having committed himself to the idea of living up to the ideal of the perfect Iron soldier. Though he struggles to apply himself in Iron-typical fashions, with no talent for engineering or marksmanship, he does excel in strategy. His magic comes in, and he begins to have nightmares. He hides both his magic and his nightmares from his peers and primus. 1295 AE: Gaius graduates the fahrar as an Iron soldier of the Black warband, taking the name Blackhorn, second to Legionnaire Venus Blacksmoke. 1298 AE: Gaius’ warband is wiped out during a routine patrol near the Decimus Stones that interrupted a ritual by a group of Flame Legion. 1299-1300 AE: Gaius goes gladium. 1301 AE: Gaius is invited by Romeo Shanktooth to join his Blood legion warband. 1302-1305 AE: Gaius spends these years as Shanktooth’s lieutenant, acting as the brains of most missions. Gaius meets Carvecia Brightshadow of the Ash Legion. After Shanktooth is killed in a tavern brawl, Gaius transfers back to Iron Legion. Augustus and Fulvius are born to Carvecia. Raevik is also born.* 1305-1320 AE: Gaius climbs the ranks and is eventually made centurion as an administrative position. 1323 AE: Gaius meets Rytlock Brimstone 1325 AE: Gaius meets Lucasta, his half-sister. The events of Personal Story and Core take place.

*The births of Gaius' other cubs has been omitted.

[wings-ofa-crow]

Different anon. If I give you names you will give us thieves den correct? I tried to keep them mildly canon compliant.

Vinestaff - could keep it the same or vinestick, flowervine, vinefoot (because of the cursed arm thing), vinefur, flowerfur

Shuriken - Darktooth?? Greenfur?? I felt like he'd be a 'paw anyway cus he feels so young so maybe greenpaw or somewith with a sneak suffix

Slingshit - I just instictively typed bluefur. Sobbing rn. Anyway. Bluerock? Like she's blue and she shoot rocks?? Silvershot? Would shot be an acceptable suffic cus that makes this wayyyy easier. Silversilk... mmm

Katana - ...Scarface? Steal it from brightheart and pull a lostface? Shadowface? Or maybe the lost temple influence brightfur, sunbeam, glowclaw? Or cleanfur maybe cus he's cleaning the world of corruption.

Does slingshit or katana get star as their suffix? (Btw going with flowerfur, greenpaw, blueshot, and glowclaw.)

[everart]

Dare to share! #out_of_the_box #shio #art #insta_pick_bw #photooftheday #photooftheday #instagood #photos_for_on_wall #silvershots #insta_pick_bw_ #blacknwhite #monochromatic #blackandwhite #everart #chist #mondrianofphotography #nikons_best #old #basilicastnicholas (at Basilica of St. Nicholas, Amsterdam)

[praesidioest]

𝕃𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕚 𝕞𝕦𝕥𝕦𝕦𝕞 𝕕𝕒𝕤.

@silvershots ▒ dragon age verse ▒ because you LOVE ME!!!

Gladiolus rubbed at an irritated patch at the nape of his neck, with lotion-softened fingers that soothed the angry blotch already searing to his touch. Plebeian cotton didn’t agree with skin that was accustomed to silken weaves and the soft of satin. 

But today marked the first of Satinalia, and the spirit of the tide demanded the performative reversal of fortune, so here Gladio was dressed as a disdainful Laetan. While most of his constituents had elected to dress themselves in the exaggerated rags in a caricature of unfortunate soporati, to the son of a revered altus, nothing was quite so hateful as an upjumped scurra who put on airs and thought themselves quite deserving of all the things his forefathers had fought to earn. Nothing, perhaps, except elves. 

It was in the grant platea that he had come upon the covered wagons and their colorful silks, around which a crowd had gathered, in the way that slack-jawed and easily-awed always did. Except it would seem that there incredulously interesting things to see. A hooded sharp-shooter was currently executing a number of tricks, which the crowd followed with concerted choruses of ecphonetic swoons and thunderous applause. 

Gladio was drawn in, curiosity guiding his steps closer, though he found himself stopping short at the sight of a charming smile peeking from the dark cast of his hood. He was enjoying it. And why should he not? There was an undeniable and enviable talent in his accuracy, and one that Gladio, unable to resist the inclination of his caste, decided deserved tribute. Forgetting his role, he reached within his coat pocket to retrieve a gold coin, and tossed it at the elf with a laugh. 

“Another,” he called, and there was little hiding the sonorous command in his stentorian voice. “Another trick, and more gold is yours.”

[infidem-blog1]

@silvershots

The evening had already begun to wind down, all of them sated and full of foreign fare, settled with a nightcap of the finest brandy Ignis had ever tasted. There was a gracelessness, a silent strain that endured between them still, that hung between them like spiderwebs: impalpable, but inconvenient on the skin. Was it stubbornness that united them? An obstinate declension to give in to the sorrow of their newfound discomfort, where an easy amity had always existed between them? It was a question for another night.

It was about that time, if his inner clock were to be believed. Though, Ignis was in truth a little eager to be out of their company if only because he preferred the quiet of solitude without this awkward tension. He’d been retiring earlier these days, now that his evening ablutions and preparations took nearly twice a long now, with the impairment of his vision. “If you’ll excuse me,” Ignis said softly, as though he was loathe to disturb the tentative, trenchant peace between them. 

He rose a little shakily, still not used to the equilibrium that didn’t come so easily anymore. It was, of course, Prompto’s hand at the small of his back, a ballast in his moment of instability. Ignis took his hand an squeezed it affectionately, before gently pushing it away. “I’ll be alight, thank you,” he assured him sotto voce, extending his walking cane and feeling for the wall as he made his way down the hall.

[masterchcf]

                    ‘ well... ‘ 

                            it’s not like a mirror’s going to tell him how they                              look, after all. his feet, still aching and slightly                              battered from the last day or so, turn in the                              direction he assumes prompto is. at least, he                             had heard his voice coming in that direction only                             moments ago. it’d be quite frustrating if he had                              moved. 

                                                   ‘ how do they look ? ‘ 

@silvershots

[sage-fire]

@silvershots

The train is irritatingly rickety. Or, perhaps it is simply so because there isn’t much else for Ignis to focus on – outside of all the other obvious things he ought to be focusing on. He can hear the clicking of the gears, the tremble of luggage balanced precariously above their heads – glasses at the bar clinking together. Everything to hear, and yet he feels quite as if he’s isolated in complete silence. 

Noctis has taken to pacing the length of the entire train in his bout of anger. Ignis does not blame him in the least for needing some space around Gladio – he has no idea how it must feel to be Noctis in this moment. The immense pressure and immediacy of all that has befallen them. They’ve lost everything, each one of them, and they’ve absolutely no one to fall back on. Astrals sake, they’re all merely children in this war, and now they make for Gralea – the heart of this war, with no clue whether they’ll be able to do a damned thing to help there.

His heart aches for Noctis – the pressure to succeed – to be the Bringer of Dawn as he has been named… None of them can imagine what might happen if he fails.

Gladio, Ignis knows, has stormed off to bed presumably. If his own growing fatigue is anything to go by it must be getting quite late in the evening. Last time he asked Prompto it had been 8PM. It feels far later now.

It’s as he feels movement beside him that his thoughts turn to Prompto, who has been unerringly at his side these past few weeks. Ignis has never felt terribly close to Prompto – not in any sort of meaningful way, after all, but paradoxically these past few weeks have seen them spending more time together than they ever have before. Likely because they have no one else as they’re forced to watch Gladio and Noctis tear themselves apart.

“Prompto.” Ignis says quietly, just above the racket of ambient noise surrounding them. “You should get some sleep.”

[xiinzhan]

@silvershots

“You wanna watch where you’re pointing that thing?”

[littlefoxgw2]

I was cleaning out my sketches folder and found a half-finished doodle of my former Charr engineer, Reya. I don’t have her anymore but I like this picture so I finished drawing the rest of it anyway.

[commanderhorncleaver]

2 and necro 7 and 10 for the world's worst dad

Ask Game

2. Did they have a teacher? If so, who were they and were they good instructor?

Oryen likely had a number of instructors, as given the importance of magic in Flame, especially during his upbringing, was paramount. Who they are is a mystery, however, but given the scourge Oryen became, if any of that came from them, they were certainly a wonder themselves.

7. What’s the most unethical spell they’ve ever cast, and what prompted them to use it?

At Oryen's age, his lack of ethics are a drop in the pool of blood he's spilled.

All of his sins aside, what he might consider as the least ethical thing he's done, what's brought the most harm to someone, is the communion with Stella Silvershot that allowed him to possess her and walk her body off into the grip of the ghosts of Ascalon. At the time, he felt that if he couldn't have her, why should anyone else?

10. Has their necromancy impacted their feelings on death and loss at all?

I wouldn't quite consider Oryen's necromancy the source of his issues, as much as the environment he was raised, nurtured, and actively took part in as a Flame soldier and shaman waging war against Iron. As we all know, for a group to be born and raised in war, their priorities have to be a little bit different, and this is doubly so for charr.

Death, to Oryen, is an inevitable thing. His longevity isn't a tool to escape it, but simply to allow him to see his business to an end, whatever that end may be.

[exsecratusest-blog]

@silvershots

“Did I promise puppies? Perhaps. Did I lie? Well, you should have expected that.”

[everart]

Dare to share! #mondrianofphotography #whatisit #exclusive_shots #justgoshoot #VSCO  #blackandwhite #mobilemag #streetdreamsmag #illgrammers #CreateCommune #weekly_feature #meesterslijpers  #Amsterdam #art #insta_color #silvershots #hands #color_photooftheday #photooftheday #instagood # #insta_pick_color  #slijpen #spark #nikons_best #artofvisuals

[praesidioest]

@silvershots

Gladio lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling to lose himself in the flickers of light reflecting off the shifting surface of the canal just outside his window. There was a capriciousness to the way they danced, flitted and flew across the cerulean ceiling like a sky, and Gladio envied their carelessness. 

In his hand, lay the onerous weight of his father’s medal in the palm of his hand. His thumb passed over the cabochons of rubies and red diamonds, across the brilliantly-cut baguettes of stunning clarity, of volutes and scrolls wrought in dark, alloyed gold. 

The Order of the Lucentine was an award meted for exceptional valor, and was the only commendation his father earned out of direct service to the king. The riband had been lost, but Gladio remembered it from portraits of his younger father: a wide, crimson sash edged in gold, fastened regally across his chest. He was reminded, somewhere within his tormenting contemplations of the ceiling, that his father had been his age when he’d earned it. 

It was too much. The quiet, the solitude, the intrusive memories that flooded him, the phantom voice of his father humming thickly, indiscernibly in his ears, though his skin knew he weight and warmth of his muted wisdoms. In his recollections, Gladio could only remember his father speaking to him in aphorisms and witticisms, taking every opportunity to import his encyclopedic knowledge of a thousand eruditions. Like he was a robot more than he was  father. Gladio had always wondered if he was anything more than a Shield. Had even scorned him a little for being so single-minded. Now he wished he could remember every adage and axiom he’d ever said, and cherish them as he should have.

But these were regrets that weighed too heavily on his chest, and he knew he’d go mad without reprieve. So he threw off his covers and padded over to the door that adjoined their rooms, opening it as quietly as he could to slip inside. “Hey,” Gladio whispered as he crawled into bed beside him, pulling the covers up and tucking them back around Prompto’s shoulders. Gladio’s arm slid around his waist pulling him closer, his dampened cheek pressed to his temple as he nosed at his sunny hair. “Sorry. I just didn’t want to be alone tonight. I’ll go, I just .... needed this for a minute.”

[chaaancewe]

I made a zine!! If you watched Transformers Armada and thought that quiet blue guy should hands with that loud yellow man then this is the zine or you!! 8 pages! Full color!! Completely Free!!! Follow the link and download it now!!!!