#so i shall put it in the tags for now

[kerra-and-company]

You reblogged "tell me about your toons" post so here I am, about to spill the beans :3c

Airell doesn't refer to himself as a sylvari nor mordrem. He always corrects people who call him that. "Not a sylvari", "not a mordrem", etc. In my writing I avoid using these terms either until Airell's identity as a dragon scion/dragon is fully established to the characters around him and the reader.

I sure did!! :D And hell yes, please always feel free to spill beans if you want to!

Ooh, interesting interesting!! That's very fair, and I love how you handle it in writing too. I imagine he has to make that correction pretty often as well, which has gotta be a little unpleasant for him. Hope he hasn't run into too many people who are insistent even after he corrects them.

[nabaath-areng]

I have this one "OC" that does not yet have a name that I've drawn several times for a couple years. I was thinking that if I tried making them in FFXIV that I'd use elezen as a base... but then I remembered what other race have their near exact hairstyle... and now I'm like damn... I played myself...

[lynxfrost13]

EULR-S2373

FLKR-S2301 “Sonderbar”

Art commissioned from @discobowser !

Sonderbar lore time

- Originally a maintenance EULR unit working on Sierpinski-23, her cadremates affectionately named her Sonderbar (peculiar/odd) due to her defective right arm, which locks up sometimes because of faulty elbow parts (eules are cheaply made and this poor gal got the extra discounted pieces)

- Otherwise a typical EULR, until she rapidly descended into persona degradation for reasons unknown to her comrades. It left her incredibly unstable and she imprinted on a propaganda poster featuring a FLKR unit, and over time Sonderbar began to believe that she was a Falke.

- Her personality is a mix between a EULR and a FLKR, she retained her cheerful disposition and sweetness but is more reserved overall, and carries herself with the same authority as a Falke. Sonderbar sees herself as the station’s commander and as someone who needs to guide her cadremates, even though they make it incredibly difficult to do so. She loves them but they can’t seem to understand that she’s in charge here!

- Sonderbar’s fellow eules find her behavior towards them incredibly endearing and concerning, they don’t take her commands seriously whatsoever. They worry about their friend being decommissioned since she’s become bolder and begun harassing (commanding) protektor staff and causing general mayhem and try to keep eyes on her in an attempt to stop her antics.

- Sonderbar knows that she’s a Falke unit but feels very off and disoriented, there’s gaps of knowledge on how to actually run her facility, she doesn’t understand why her bioresonance isn’t working or why replikas aren’t following her, she misses her Adler. She can’t seem to find her spears. She hates how small she is and knows she’s meant to easily tower above most replikas and all of it upsets her!!!

- To feel more like a Falke, Sonderbar’s gotten her hands on red eyeliner, and “borrowed” a star protektor plate that she decorated with the signature FLKR triangles (when her cadremates discovered her wearing the plate they took it from her out of fear that she’d get in serious trouble. There was much screaming and kicking in her EULR dorm that night. She has reacquired it since then.)

Bonus quick eyeliner edit that I just wanna put here again

[tittysuckersworld]

flustered dazai redraw of one thingy from @lex_dark_ on instagram because im a gay little guy and that one person was right!! there should be more flustered dazai and i shall be the person to make this a reality

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[ressioo]

Sorry still no sunstone or solar flare im firmly in my 3sig+ obsession hole

Beloved polycule,, thriving in my head, no rent required

[sexynetra]

hello! i was planning on drawing the rawnsyf characters, but i don't really have a clear idea of what every character looks like. do you have any examples of what the characters would wear on a day-to-day basis?

OMG WHAT THATS SO SWEET 😭 😭 😭

For Marcia I generally imagine her in like preppy pastel 2 or 3 piece sets that have a kind of 50’s meets 90’s vibe, very reminiscent of her premiere episode yk? Skirts and sweaters and matching tops. She also of course has her matching workout sets that she wears all the time :)

Anetra I think is a little harder to pinpoint, I don’t think her style is as distinct. I generally imagine her a little more on the light grunge side, like big t-shirts and cargos and flannels and leather jackets, but I also think she’s still figuring out herself and her sense of style so there’s definitely more wiggle room with the way she presents herself haha — just definitely not hyper femme and retro like Marcia

I hope this is helpful somewhat!!! Lmk if you want any other characters and also omg I am still kvelling this is so incredibly sweet I am HONORED that you want to draw my girls 🥹🥹🥹

[icewindandboringhorror]

sneepy cozy....

[they-of-fixation]

Die Alone Together [Placeholder Name; DRAFT]

A Cult of The Lamb fic (my AU)

There I lay, crouched in the grass, clinging to myself desperately; falling, falling, falling... my mind miles below the soil in which I cowered. The moment I fell to my knees, there became of time this... dissonance, a rift between it and space, and though the ground caught me, I never quite stopped falling- falling away from myself, from this place, and into a memory; miles away from here, years, suspended in an unreachable past and yet frozen in the present. For my dissociation, I could hardly think but one thing:

I was too late.

They're all-

I could scarcely hear myself screaming, nor could I feel the tears stinging my cheeks, nor the burn in my lungs or the ache in my legs from the fighting; my body did not and does not feel like my own. I am not in it. Everything felt distant as I held myself, and as I drew the corpse of one of my own to my chest, I realized how far this place had become from my home.

'They're all dead.'

And I will never get them back.

I don't know how long I laid there for, but I do remember thinking myself damned to the same fate, trapped in the same place; that I'd die there, alongside my brethren, eventually- in some way. I couldn't bring myself to leave them, not even to stand, and had little reason to think anyone would find nor save me. I was alone in the depths of Darkwood, miles away from any living thing- who could possibly hear my crying? I could hardly hear myself, and any person who might would surely, in devotion to the Bishops of the Old Faith, to the Worm, Leshy, end my life.

That is, or so I thought.

There was movement, rustling, in the brush surrounding me, and I was suddenly aware of just how loud I had been mourning, and, consequently, of the fearful silence that followed- but I did not move. I was not frozen in fear, at least not completely, more I was complacent; maybe someone had heard me, and I was going to die here. In a way, I deserved to. Perhaps dying the same way my friends, my found family, had would honor them, perhaps it would free me.

So I stayed. I stayed right where I was, amongst the remains of my community and embracing the body, only turning my head up to look in the direction of the sound, to see my assailant and face them head-on, if only for a moment. I dared not stand nor speak, I just patiently awaited in trepidation whatever fate it'd be to befall me.

It was quiet again for a moment as I stared into the shadowed flora, but then, not only could I hear the crackling of leaves on the forest floor, I could see someone, something, moving towards me. I drew in a sharp, panicked breath despite myself and held it as I watched the cloaked figure step into the clearing and catch sight of me.

I could feel my breath hitch yet again as I made eye contact with what seemed to be a child, at least no older than me, donning the crown of my god, and... not just a child- at that, a lamb?

I knew my face betrayed me; I was never known for my poker face, and despite my position, now was no different. I could not hide my confusion, for it had been years since anyone had seen a lamb. I thought- as we all did- that the Bishops had caused their extinction. The lamb's eyes were dark, stoic- nearly expressionless, if not for the silent and subtle shock at the sight before them; had it been any darker, I would not have noticed. I stared back with exceptional surprise but equal intensity. I did not ask.

Neither did they.

"What is your name?" They spoke softly, their hooves visibly unarmed and reaching towards me in, be it genuine or not, seeming good manner, the bell clasped to their cloak jingling quietly with every step.

"What are you going to do with me?" I diverted; they were a lamb, a living lamb, likely the last of their kind- and better yet, their crown… not to mention that they held no weapon that I could see- but even so, after everything I had gone through, and they as well, I could not be certain of their intentions. It was not in my favor to let down my guard, not with such ease.

They blinked slowly, taking another step my way. "Be not afraid, I mean well. Did he," Their smile faltered, no gesture necessary. "do this?"

"...If you mean Leshy, then I suppose. At least, his following. I," I felt my brow furrow as I forced myself to speak through gritted teeth. "was not here to see."

"Ah."

"You didn't answer my question." My voice cracked; for my tears earlier, I could hardly speak. It was only then I realized that I had never let go of the body- and with this realization, instinctively, I pulled it closer to me.

"Nor did you answer mine."

A beat.

"Your name?"

"Oh. My name is..." My hesitance was not to save face, nor to deceive- I could give a false name to “protect” myself and hide my identity, but if this lamb were to kill me, pretending would do nothing to lengthen my life, it couldn't truly protect me- rather, I was weighing my options, deciding my fate in the only way I knew I could. To continue as I had, or-

I looked down at the doe clasped to my breast: her eyes, lifeless, and lips slightly parted by her final breath. “Fern. My name is Fern," I decided, to honor her, not a lie now that it'd been spoken, but not the truth. If they meant what they said, that they were not here to hurt me, maybe, just maybe, this would be my chance to start anew. I did not turn my head to the lamb again; I let my eyes flutter shut and my head hang low, loosening my grip on the carcass to hold her face in my claws.

“...And yours?"

I could barely choke the last two words out.

"Fern… a pretty name!" Their smile, so mellow, in stark contrast to the death around us, struck me- I could not decide whether it was comforting or off putting in the moment. Again, they reached out their hand. "You may call me Lamb.”

This time I did look up; I watched them cautiously, my eyes shifting from their outstretched hoof, which I still refused to take, to their face.

‘Just… “Lamb”?’ I thought to myself, but said nothing. The question, I decided, was one likely better left unspoken.

“Okay, Lamb- your turn.” I interjected, changing the subject, or at least trying to, for what time now I had lost count. “What do you plan to do with me? Why spare me and not just kill me already?”

“No one deserves to meet a violent end. You deserve to have a choice in the matter; I can't, however, deny having an ulterior motive,” their smile never faltered as my eyes burned a hole through their own. “Would you rather me kill you, or to run away and hide before I have the chance? Or rather, the most forgiving of your options, would you like-” they adjourned, their eyes glinting wildly, still holding contact with my own. “to join me?”

“...Join… you?”

“It isn't safe in Darkwood- though I needn't tell you that- and it isn't much safer in any other of the Bishops’ domains. I can offer you shelter; for a price, of course, but a small one. All I ask for is your loyalty, and your devotion- to me, and to my god.”

“You're asking me… to join your religion?”

“Offering, yes. I won't force you. It is your decision, after all- granted, it is the safest, and in my… qualified opinion, smartest choice of the three.”

“And if I decline?” A face on my behalf, more out of curiosity than defiance.

“Again, I won't force you. But would you truly rather die, or spend your life running, only to lose it to one of them in the end, than to stand by my side? A side you should, in theory, have no hard time taking?”

Any argument I could have made, not that I had one nor any intention of refusing (because what choice did I really have?), was instantly, with ease, brought to a screeching halt. Their honesty, their sharp words and rightful, righteous confidence shook me thoroughly, to my very core; that last statement, a confirmation of my only suspicion. They didn't ask, but they knew. I said nothing, but they knew, and when the realization of their admittance donned on my features, they were more than aware that I knew, too. It was like telepathy, a secret passed silently between us, fate drawing me in.

“I am tired of running.”

“Then? I’m giving you an opportunity you can't possibly refuse.” Their expression darkened, their smile, different now- more serious, more grave; the weight of my situation coming back to me once more, and hitting me like a freight train. “Take my hand and join me, join my cult. You will be safe in the commune, and you can take your life back into your own hands.”

And with this- I looked again from their hoof to their twisted smile and somehow, despite the ominous air about them, emanating from the red crown atop their head, I knew that I’d be safe, or safest, with them- I, reluctant to let go and with a final embrace, laid the doe down in a patch of softer looking grass, and took the Lamb's hand.

[cuteniaarts]

Wine stains on porcelain

(Alternatively: @katkastrofa and I have created 5 OCs in 3 days and I suffer from chronic “I wanna draw the little guysssssss” disease)

[ervona]

I have successfully (kind of) recreated the wizard

[sophieswundergarten]

MBS Characters as Neat Words I Like

So. Listen. Some of these words are going to have fitting definitions. And some of them are just based on how they feel/look to me. Do with this what you will, and I hope you at least learn some fun new words :)

Mr. Benedict - Esoteric: requiring or exhibiting knowledge that is restricted to a small group / of special, rare, or unusual interest

It's very green and a bit orangey to me, like the scenes in S1 where he's sitting in the cabin, or a very nice rock. Maybe something with a fossil in it. But it's a good, slightly rough but ultimately quite pleasant texture. It's got the layers of an old book with age-stained pages and uneven edges because of how often it's been read. It's a really comforting word, and it's warm and inviting, like the feeling of walking into Mr. Benedict's house and seeing all the light come through the glass and the smell of books and the very clear evidence that it is lived in and full of love. If it had a physical form, I would keep this word on my shelf and look at it every day because it makes me smile.

Number Two - Librocubicularist: someone who reads in bed

Definitely a yellow word. It's got some nice light blues, like sunlight on a clear day streaming through a window, and a couple hints of green in there, but this word feels very warm and a bit like running your hand along the hard carved edge of a bookshelf. It's very square and cube-y, like a stack of little building blocks or one of those geometric M. C. Escher kind of designs. (Also I can see her just sitting on her bed and reading when people would want her to sleep when she was a kid)

Milligan - Hugger-mugger / Gallimaufry: Respectively, "secrecy" and "hodgepodge"

The first one is an automatic choice, because it basically sounds like a warped version of the words "hug" and "Milligan". It's a very warm, soft word that's a dusky orange-and-pink, like an old jacket or scarf that's being used to muffle a sound. The second word is chosen more for its meaning, as Milligan himself is a bit of a jumbley hodgepodge when we first meet him. It's coloured like moss covered stones along a riverbed, like the colours of that screenshot in Episode 1 where Milligan emerges from the secret tunnel in the yard. The tumbling of the word also mimics the curved brim of his hat.

Rhonda - Sophronise / Kismet: Respectively, "to imbue with moral principles or self-control" and "a hypothetical force or personified power that determines the course of the future events, fate, destiny"

"Sophronise" is because of how wise and quick-witted she is. She's a role model for the younger kids, and it was a really nice sunset- night-sky kind of ombre, a hint of deep magenta (Like that jacket she wore outside the cabin in S1) and the barest touch of yellow-orange, quickly moving into royal and midnight blue, and a whisper of silver that can almost be stars. "Kismet" is similarly multicoloured and beautiful, but more swirly like a wind-chime or suncatcher made of many different pieces hung just so, in such a way to catch the light and reveal glimpses of what's hidden deeper. It's a mostly wine-magenta and blue kind of colours; jewel tones.

Kate - Rawgabbit: somebody who speaks covertly about a subject of which they know nothing

This one's silly, because it just came to me because of its look. The definition doesn't really fit her at all. It's a helter-skelter word that is racing, fast moving and fidgety. It's a full kaleidoscope of colours, red and fierce and yellowy lemon gold and green like sun through new leaves and blue like daubs of fingerpaint all swirled and tumbling over each other, much like Kate's jacket.

Miss Perumal - Pluviophile: one who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days

This is a very soft word, and it is a soft, watercolour kind of pastel. It's lavender and cherry blossom pink and a light sky blue, and it feels exactly like one of her nice sweaters or jackets. The lapel of a good, strong, felted jacket kind of feeling, like something you'd find at a thrift store and know that it was well loved, but taken care of so respectfully that you'll be able to wear it for years too. A pragmatic word. It is also very round and swooping, in much the same way her cadence of speech is.

Sticky - Uhtceare / Kenning: Respectively, "lying awake before dawn and worrying" and "a metaphorical compound word or phrase (such as swan-road for ocean) used especially in Old English and Old Norse poetry"

The first word is more because of the meaning, but it does have some hints of his shades of blues. The "uhtc" part is like glass as a lens, and the last part is like little round bits of blue sea glass, all tumbled and smoothed. It's a very pensive and reflective word, and it catches light in many different facets, something to be studied from many different angles in the solitary silence away from other people."Kenning" I chose because of its neat, rhythmic sound, like very even stitches through a piece of stormy blue cloth. It is a deceptively simple sounding word, but it has such a deep history, and I think that's something Sticky would really enjoy learning and knowing.

Constance - Fudgel: pretending to work when in reality one is not doing anything

Come on. This word is perfect for her. It has that hint of sweetness with "fudge", and yet it sounds stubborn and obstinate. It's a "fighting word", so to speak. Stout and short and compact, like a dense piece of wood that someone can heft and throw. And while I would not originally say that it has any of Constance's colours, there are parts of it that can be malleable, and there's definitely a hint of pink in the middle, a reflection and glimmer that comes from it being placed next to her name.

Reynie - Wergild: the value set in Anglo-Saxon and Germanic law upon human life in accordance with rank and paid as compensation to the kindred or lord of a slain person

This word came to me immediately. It isn't coloured so much like Reynie (Being mostly kind of deep purple and shaded forest green with the barest hint of gold, like brambles that have grown and woven themselves into an intricate shape), but for some reason it fits him. Maybe it's the complex depth that's hinted at in the heart of it. It's a wild word, but also very warm and trusting in that it expects the other person to honour their promises. Its etymology is basically "man" + "payment", and the idea of it being the value of a person when in relation to Reynie, who values every person as incredibly important is intriguing. Also, the first time I read it was in a fictional context as part of a spell or binding magic that connected people to one another, which is a much more vague and subjective reason, but it's a little more positive than "murder debt"

SQ - Welkin / Wanderlust: Respectively, "the vault of the sky / the upper atmosphere" and "strong longing for or impulse toward wandering"

Now. These words both start with "w" because "w" and "q" are coloured somewhat similarly to me, especially since there's an "s" involved. "Welkin" is a complex word, like running your hand over a particularly detailed and well-crafted mosaic. It's a very light baby blue fading into purple, a very mystical and soft word, like if you could tough fog. It speaks of walking softly down a grassy hill at dusk, looking up at the stars as they wake up and being able to trust that you won't trip. It's also got these kind of two curves, like the top of the "S" right next to the "Q". "Wanderlust" is dreamy and full of stardust. It's got that bluey-purple touch, but it sparks at the end, gold and shimmering and falling out of sight like a shooting star, just beyond the horizon, where you know you can follow it.

Curtain - Sanguine: marked by eager hopefulness, confidently optimistic / bloodred / consisting of or relating to blood

It's not quite the correct colour for Curtain, but the feel for it is right. It has a bit of dark blue, but it's also slimly and squelchy the "gui" bit makes it kind of greasy and hard to keep a hold of. It also fits him because of the different meanings; originally, "sanguine" meant "cheerful" because of the medieval concept of the four humours governing the human body, and it came from the Latin "sanguineus" which means bloody. The seemingly jarring differences between "happy" and "bloody" are a good representation of Curtain's duality.

Garrison - Gerrymandering: the practice of dividing or arranging a territorial unit into election districts in a way that gives one political party an unfair advantage in elections

This word also came to me really quickly. I kind of "see" spelling in my head, so even though the "g" in gerrymandering is pronounced like a "j" instead of how it is in "Garrison", it works. The word is coloured very much like her: light, dappled green and a little pink and some specks of orangey-red. It's also a strong word, a tiny bit mischievous but with hard lines that won't be crossed, no matter how much trickery and metaphorical dancing around delicate topics is involved to attain a goal.

[gibbearish]

am finally back home and can say without a doubt that i am just fundamentally not built for long distance travel however the train was much nicer than planes

[ratcandy]

the half of me who loves pathetic wet rag men especially when going through the Horrors is all over Sindri because UAUUU AUUhghahgh AhgHHAGHhg . right? but the half of me who loves pretentious horrible assholes is crushing heimdall in my hands like a squeaky toy and going .u are my ideal character type. but unfortunately (for me) the fandom seems primarily interested in thirsting over you . that is not my intention .i merely wish to go There's My Favorite Dipshit. Now Kill Him 100 times !!!!!! while simultaneously going I miss him when is he coming back

[oflightningandstars]

I am so so so normal about tagging things and I'm not going to get upset because of punctuation inconsistencies in my tags (repeating over and over)

[nostalgia-tblr]

And now, the Dark Lokius is unleashed! It's not very nice, it's some uncertain level of dubcon (because it's not entirely clear what is and isn't a deception - don't look at me for answers, I don't know either), it's not as Stockholmy as I originally thought it would be but it's still pretty messed-up.

Title: this is how the world works (now all he thinks about is me) (AO3) Fandom: Loki (TV 2021) Rating: Explicit Pairing: Loki/Mobius Wordcount: ~2000 Additional Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, (maybe), Dubious Consent, Dark, Fucked Up, Oral Sex, TVA Trash Party (Marvel), Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Dark!Lokius, Victim Blaming, Short One Shot, Not A Dead Dove But Maybe A Wounded Pigeon Summary/Snippet: Mobius reaches down and runs a thumb over Loki’s lips until he parts them as expected, just enough to hint at possibilities, to show that he’s willing to play along with this game yet again. Everything is a performance for Loki, and he never lets his guard down, never lets the continual pretence drop. He probably doesn’t even remember what ‘being himself’ was actually like. Luckily for him, old Mobius has his number: Mobius has watched Loki’s entire life play out, over and over in endless iterations, and he long ago became convinced that despite all the defiant posturing and attempts at domination the real Loki, deep down, wants to kneel at someone else’s feet, longs to be led and to be taken. Part of this performance is the pretence that the outcome is uncertain, that either of them has any doubt about what happens next. That this compliance is offered without expectation of reward, and that Mobius might choose not to take advantage