#they looked so fine and fanciful

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Kiss Kiss Fallen Tree!

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[nipuni]

This week's photos 😊📸

[naamahdarling]

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[waywardsalt]

refused to let myself rest until i finished making this

[moeblob]

Scorpio

The most toxic man alive but also a very well trusted and respectable boss and leader of the Zodiac.

[annn-starrr]

wait the second one is kinda... i mean the new hair????

[nanihirunkits]

okay maybe i actually am able to work some magic in photoshop sometimes

[vryarts]

I’m gonna go through every design that baffles me and make my own version to use instead

[starrysharks]

your ccharacters look cool and interesting and your art style is unique and memorable

thank you, that means a lot (o´∀｀o)

[anialisr]

I can't believe I missed the countdown day with my favorite boy Kiyomitsu ☠️

[istherewifiinhell]

okay i didnt have enough time b4 the ep but i MAINTAIN. having a fun drink IS a vital part of sts and anyway ive been doing ice tea experienments this week.

1. Pomegranate white tea.

SMELT GREAT. but so yucky did not even try completing it into a finished/sweetened drink. upon closer inspection the tea had hibiscus in it (i hate florals) and STEVIA?... just. IN THE TEA BAG... who does that??? now i know why it was on clearence....

2. green tea (jasmine? i think?) with lemon juice

i did have two cups of this but its complex... challenging.... the whole time i was just thinking... its kinda yucky. fhbgjdf. (i do like HOT tea, just fyi) even with a simple syrup (made with lemon zest and some of the same tea) added. but the lemon DID help

3. peppermint tea (tisane, for clarity, its one ingredigent and that ingredient is MINT) also with lemon

DRINK FOR THE LAST 3 DAYS. this is pretty delightful. also with a simple syrup made of. more tea. some lemon. and sugar. cold mint tea is ACTUALLY pretty okay on its own. its not like. sugar mint. more herby. and litttttle bit of lemon mades it... fresh? more lemon mades it. a fun lemon drink with. well mint but again. NOT like. eating mints mint. adjust syrup from anything to. cut the bitter/tart notes to full. this is a fucking lemonade treat.

futher planed experiements: just. regular sweet black tea (i doubt i will like this cold but i want to make SURE lol), wild berry zinger (is this even tea anymore?! i dunno. but its called WILD BERRY ZINGER. that sounds FUN)

[vigilskeep]

have a slightly stressful thing to do today so i am going to be exclusively thinking about whatever gender fhawke has going on to distract myself and oh boy is it working

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

I went to a thrift store after work in my NPS uniform and a little old lady asked me if I worked there. At the thrift store. The National Parks Service manages your local Savers

[coldflasher]

People were mad bc Karolsen was broken up to put Kara with a white slave owner.

yeah actually now you mention it... he did own slaves. that is very much a thing that he did. was own slaves. not gonna lie i totally forgot about that part

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

When Gramps talks about his ailments

[nejackdaw]

Thinking about Celann and his ever present grief at the life he could have had, he and his wife and (he always hoped) their daughter. A life where he was a father--he'd hardly ever wanted anything more than that. So full of love he was ready to burst and needed somewhere to put it, wanted a life with his favorite girls.

Thinking about how the ever present desire haunts him no matter how deep he buried it. It keeps coming back, relentlessly, this anguish that he threw it all away. He could have had exactly what he wanted and he was stupid enough to abandon it all, and for what? Because he was upset? But then he always remembers how hollow he felt after the incident, like if you rapped him with a knuckle you'd hear he was just a shell. He forgives himself, then, remembers how wrong everything felt, and he thinks about all the time he spent desperately trying to make everything feel right again.

Remembers when he realized he was the problem, what needed to be fixed. Removed.

He abandoned the life he had and every dream he'd ever held close because he wasn't him anymore. Celann would never have killed anyone, would never have done... that. He was some other Celann, different, trying to make himself fit in the life of a man that no longer existed. And so he left.

And he has no right to ache so badly at the thought of what he gave up, no right to ache at the loss of a family (of two families, but he starts thinking that and breaks every time, so he's gotten good at simply skipping over the thought) when he was a killer--an adept one, a practiced one--that could mangle and maul and kill and do it again and again. What right does he have to still want that happy little dream?

But the dream is a ghost and it haunts him, is there every time he's out on a supply run and sees kids playing around the marketplace, sees women cradling infants and fathers carrying sons on their shoulders. (He reminds himself of the blood on his hands, is scared he might stain them with it if he reaches out to touch them.) It's there when he has a bag and his axe hanging from his hips and finds a girl crying for her mother, lost and separated, jostled by the crowd.

It's there as he calms her, kneeling on wet and gritty stone, hovering between her and the flow of the crowd so they give her space. He lifts her and holds her against his side with one arm and something in him weeps, feels something soft in him as her tiny weight settles and she starts chattering at him about the groceries she and her mother came to buy.

They weave their way through the marketplace as they help each other--she tells him where he can find what he needs, and he silently curses the nords and their height as he tries to peer over shoulders to catch a glimpse of the woman she described--and that cold weight that's usually settled in his chest, his grief and remorse, lightens with every step. She's warm through his sweater and splutters indignantly every time the ever changing wind blows her brown hair into her mouth and he laughs, quiet and warm.

They check places she's already been, in case her mother doubled back looking for her, and take detours so Celann can fumble to place newly acquired groceries in the bag beneath her, unwilling to hold her over the side with his axe and equally unwilling to put her down, awkwardly shifting her weight as she laughs at him. He's silly for buying such expensive things, she tells him, and he light heartedly tells her Skyrim is silly for not having the things he used to use in High Rock. The revelation he hasn't always lived in Skyrim excites her to no end, and the rest of the trip is a Q&A of the sort only a small child can provide.

He feels warm inside, in his chest, where usually he feels vaguely cold at best, and for a moment he's reluctant to relinquish her when they finally find her mother, guided by the sounds of panicked calls of her name. There's a fond sadness as he sets her down on the stones again, and the woman looks at him oddly for a moment before the look turns knowing, though he's sure the conclusion she reached is slightly off.

She quietly asks if her daughter reminds him of her. He stands there silently for a moment, looking down at the little girl as she rifles through the things her mother's found.

He tells her yes.