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Minthara hair down *.* and I've also drawn her shoving Gale into a locker 😂

#THE BOTTOM PICTURE IS EVERYTHING TO ME OP I HOPE YOU KNOW #I ALSO HOPE YOUR PILLOW IS ALWAYS YOUR PREFERRED TEMPERATURE ON BOTH SIDES #bg3 #art #meme #minthara #gale

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#now im invested in this tie #i wanna see if they'll actually do it #for the chaos #also these two ending in a tie is the funniest possible outcome #anime battle to the death #hockey is 50.2 and bg3 is 49.8 at time of reblog #if u even care #poll

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biker!LQG in modern AU be like

#oh this is... beautiful #lqg my beloved #svsss #art

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Bond!AU | Wyll & Ansur [Pt. 3]

Part One | Two

Wyll is slightly less surprised when he finds himself in the clearing again after closing his eye beside the smoldering cinders of his campfire. Such a thing happening twice is still circumstantial – albeit somewhat odd – but thrice? That makes a pattern, and Wyll’s life over the past year has increasingly depended on him taking note of those patterns.

He considers the space around him with more interest, now that he knows it to be something more than a mere dream. The pool draws the eye first, filling the center of the clearing as it does. He resists its allure, however, determined to finalize his surveillance before he allows himself to see if his little friend yet remains a part of this confounding dreamscape. The trees surrounding the clearing appear as solid and well-defined as the rest of the clearing, but as he makes toward them, they fade out in time with his steps. By the time he stands before them, they seem like nothing so much as the memory of trees — gray, wavering, and ephemeral. 

Beyond them, in the formless fog, he hears the crashing of distant waves, and the furious shrieking of the gulls, songbirds of his youth. He swallows hard, the click of it catching in his throat. His good eye prickles, and his empty socket aches. 

He turns away from the far-off call, trying to convince himself it does not make of him a coward. No longer so keen to unravel the mysteries of the dreamscape, he slumps to the ground in his ‘usual’ spot, against the rocks that have supported him twice before. He doesn’t imagine they will mind doing so again. Eager for a distraction, he looks for his little friend. After the last two meetings, he no longer expects to see it in the same form, watching solely for that tell-tale bronze. 

He gazes into the pool for some time, inspecting it intently, and finding his breathing unconsciously matching the gentle lapping of the water. He settles into a state similar to what he imagined meditation must be like, when he heard it described as a child. He is aware of every splash and rustle before him, but every one that does not resolve itself in some new form of his friend is noted, then disregarded. Somehow, this sustained focus does not exhaust him — as he is certain it must, were he to attempt it upon waking. Instead, it feels almost rejuvenating, the aches of his body carried away along with the rest. The aching of his mind is not so easily disregarded, but he fancies it too, is somewhat soothed. 

After a time, his attention is drawn to a portion of the pool, something about it sticking with him, rather than flowing through. He makes the decision – barely a thought, really – to trust his instincts, and keeps his attention focused upon it. Some minutes later, his patience is rewarded, as a tiny brown snout he had taken for a twig ‘til now pokes further out from the water, revealing dark eyes and a head striped with bronze. Below the water the coloration continues, muted but still visible, as the light reflects off of the angled patterns of its shell. 

Wyll smiles helplessly down at the turtle, which cannot be any larger than the palm of his hand. “I hope you have avoided further mishaps, friend.”

The turtle turns its head to stare at him, and, for no reason he can clearly define, he perceives it to be disgruntled. He considers it for a moment, then owns that he does not greatly enjoy having his own blunders thrown back in his face — something the devil he is sworn to is all too happy to engage in, under the guise of “counsel”. 

He bows his head to the little creature. “Apologies; that was ill-done of me. I meant only to wish you well, and inquire after your health. Although… I suppose you likely can’t talk, which means that is also quite rude—” 

Turtles certainly can’t roll their eyes, but Wyll discovers that mysterious turtles one encounters in a dreamscape can manage a very convincing impression. With a gurgling huff, the little thing clambers its way onto the sun-warmed surface of a small rock, settling in to bask. Its head is still angled loosely in his direction, which he decides to treat as invitation enough. It clearly does not have any great trouble making its opinion known, no matter the limitations of its form. 

Wyll has a fair few more stories under his belt now than he did when he first awoke in this clearing, and he shuffles through them in his mind, searching for the best of them to entertain his companion. If they are to meet only sparingly, as seems to be the case, then he will no doubt have plenty more at their next encounter. 

Leaning back fully against the rock behind him, he settles upon his choice, and begins his tale.

“So this particular wizard – although those toffs out in Waterdeep would likely take umbrage with him claiming that title – had struck upon the brilliant idea of employing both a choker and a gargoyle as guards…”

#oh right self reblog #timezone etc #forgor that was a thing #here u go

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Watching the new tasting history and very charmed by the fact that the whole Michelin Star system apparently started out as, like, a galaxy-brain marketing campaign for the concept of road trips.

#queue're coming home with me

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If you don’t like rice then idk man get well soon I guess

#queue're coming home with me

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Depression is such an effective tranquilizer that it creates a great opportunity for plot twists in your real life. I have a pretty consistent opinion of myself which is "low" and "never ending guilt and shame for reasons I don't understand."

Recently received feedback from two different editing clients that started with "Please pass along to Jacquelynn that she is phenomenal at her job" and "I was blown away by the evaluation I received."

You always hear about how depression (and anxiety) lies to you and distorts reality, but there is logically knowing that and then there is like, physical proof of it and you are suddenly Neo in the Matrix jumping out of the fucked up little tube machine.

#queue're coming home with me

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I call him Wheezlep.

#wheezlep... incredible #ilu wheezlep #bg3 #art #meme #haarlep

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How is Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves different from other blockbuster action films?

#MY GOD YES THIS #it's like i always sometimes say

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Headcanon that when Wyll and Karlach start being coupley in public, most tieflings assume that Wyll lost his eye in an unfortunate spooning incident, which is a well-known hazard of Dating With Horns.

#oh this is... incredible LKAJSDKJKASD #bg3 #meme #karlach #wyll

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Minthara

#oh the detailing on this is so cool #bg3 #art #minthara

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clownfish be like "i know a spot" and take you to a fucking deadly sea organism

#queue're coming home with me

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Hard to be afraid of wolves when your partners the cutest puppy in all of Faerûn <3

#awww LOVELY #bg3 #art #shadowheart

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Bond!AU | Wyll & Ansur [Pt. 3]

Part One | Two

Wyll is slightly less surprised when he finds himself in the clearing again after closing his eye beside the smoldering cinders of his campfire. Such a thing happening twice is still circumstantial – albeit somewhat odd – but thrice? That makes a pattern, and Wyll’s life over the past year has increasingly depended on him taking note of those patterns.

He considers the space around him with more interest, now that he knows it to be something more than a mere dream. The pool draws the eye first, filling the center of the clearing as it does. He resists its allure, however, determined to finalize his surveillance before he allows himself to see if his little friend yet remains a part of this confounding dreamscape. The trees surrounding the clearing appear as solid and well-defined as the rest of the clearing, but as he makes toward them, they fade out in time with his steps. By the time he stands before them, they seem like nothing so much as the memory of trees — gray, wavering, and ephemeral. 

Beyond them, in the formless fog, he hears the crashing of distant waves, and the furious shrieking of the gulls, songbirds of his youth. He swallows hard, the click of it catching in his throat. His good eye prickles, and his empty socket aches. 

He turns away from the far-off call, trying to convince himself it does not make of him a coward. No longer so keen to unravel the mysteries of the dreamscape, he slumps to the ground in his ‘usual’ spot, against the rocks that have supported him twice before. He doesn’t imagine they will mind doing so again. Eager for a distraction, he looks for his little friend. After the last two meetings, he no longer expects to see it in the same form, watching solely for that tell-tale bronze. 

He gazes into the pool for some time, inspecting it intently, and finding his breathing unconsciously matching the gentle lapping of the water. He settles into a state similar to what he imagined meditation must be like, when he heard it described as a child. He is aware of every splash and rustle before him, but every one that does not resolve itself in some new form of his friend is noted, then disregarded. Somehow, this sustained focus does not exhaust him — as he is certain it must, were he to attempt it upon waking. Instead, it feels almost rejuvenating, the aches of his body carried away along with the rest. The aching of his mind is not so easily disregarded, but he fancies it too, is somewhat soothed. 

After a time, his attention is drawn to a portion of the pool, something about it sticking with him, rather than flowing through. He makes the decision – barely a thought, really – to trust his instincts, and keeps his attention focused upon it. Some minutes later, his patience is rewarded, as a tiny brown snout he had taken for a twig ‘til now pokes further out from the water, revealing dark eyes and a head striped with bronze. Below the water the coloration continues, muted but still visible, as the light reflects off of the angled patterns of its shell. 

Wyll smiles helplessly down at the turtle, which cannot be any larger than the palm of his hand. “I hope you have avoided further mishaps, friend.”

The turtle turns its head to stare at him, and, for no reason he can clearly define, he perceives it to be disgruntled. He considers it for a moment, then owns that he does not greatly enjoy having his own blunders thrown back in his face — something the devil he is sworn to is all too happy to engage in, under the guise of “counsel”. 

He bows his head to the little creature. “Apologies; that was ill-done of me. I meant only to wish you well, and inquire after your health. Although… I suppose you likely can’t talk, which means that is also quite rude—” 

Turtles certainly can’t roll their eyes, but Wyll discovers that mysterious turtles one encounters in a dreamscape can manage a very convincing impression. With a gurgling huff, the little thing clambers its way onto the sun-warmed surface of a small rock, settling in to bask. Its head is still angled loosely in his direction, which he decides to treat as invitation enough. It clearly does not have any great trouble making its opinion known, no matter the limitations of its form. 

Wyll has a fair few more stories under his belt now than he did when he first awoke in this clearing, and he shuffles through them in his mind, searching for the best of them to entertain his companion. If they are to meet only sparingly, as seems to be the case, then he will no doubt have plenty more at their next encounter. 

Leaning back fully against the rock behind him, he settles upon his choice, and begins his tale.

“So this particular wizard – although those toffs out in Waterdeep would likely take umbrage with him claiming that title – had struck upon the brilliant idea of employing both a choker and a gargoyle as guards…”

#here you are have some more #bg3 #bg3 fic #wyll #wyll ravengard #ansur #bg3 ansur #bg3 spoilers #bg3 act 3 spoilers #bg3 au #my writing #wyll & ansur

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Part 2 of this AU

Gwendolyn didn't mean to abuse of this stranger's kindness, but they were the only person who answered the damn intercom. For the past few weeks, whenever she received a call from the hospital, she would run out, and every single time, she forgot her keys.

When she first used the intercom, she was ready for no one to answer. She started to consider calling Astarion over to see if he could somehow unlock the door, but before she could give this idea more room in her head, someone picked up.

"Hey, I ran out and forgot my keys. Please, let me in, I live in the 903 apartment!" Gwendolyn said on the intercom, and without another word, the door opened. Whoever lived in 801 had become her angel in disguise.

Two days after this incident, it happened again. Remembering the numbers from last time, she was ready to beg the person, apologizing for incoviniencing them at such an hour but it hadn't been necessary. Before Gwen could even utter a word, the door had opened.

And it happened again. And again. And again. She began wondering who the hell was awake at those ungodly hours? Why were they so kind as to help a stranger out? And would they found it weird that she was leaving a home made apple pie in their door? Hopefully not, as the deed was already done.

The next day, Gwen is sleeping on the couch when the sound of a knocking on the door wakes her up. She ignores it at first, but as Scratch begins to bark, she grumply stands up, shouting "Hang on!" before looking through the magic eye.

Gwen didn't recognize the man on the other side, but whoever he was, he was handsome. Too handosme. And she looked like an absolute mess. She passed a hand through her hair, in a lazy attempt to fake comb it, using her hand to fix her clothes a bit before opening the door, the security chain stopping it from opening it fully and letting Scratch out.

"Hi!" She said, smiling a bit. "Who are you?"

"I'm Halsin, from 801. I wanted to give back your plate and maybe talk for a bit. Is that a problem?"

Gwen stood there, thinking. 801...where she had seen that number- oh fuck. This was the guy that always opened the door for her???

"Oh my gods, yes, I mean, no, it's not a problem." She unlocked the chain and montioned him inside "Please, come in."

Now, Gwendolyn began to regret that decision the moment she realized how unorganized her apartment looked. With all that was happening recently, she hadn't had time to clean everything, besides Scratch's ocasional mess. She only opened this Halsin fellow wouldn't mind.

"Here, let me take this from you." She took the plate from his hand, walking over to the kitchen so that she could wash it. "I hope the pie was good. I haven't baked in a long time."

"Oh, it was delicious." He smiled, sitting on a chair and resting his arms in the kitchen balcony. "The best I had in a long time and a welcome reprieve after work."

"Oh?" Gwen said. She opened the fridge, grabbing some left overs and walked over to where he was, taking a seat next to him. "If you won't mind, I'm starving. But tell me, what do you work with?"

"I teach science and biology classes at the Emerald Grove School. My classes are all in the morning period, so in the afternoon I do some volunteer work here and there."

"Is working early the reason why you're always awake to answer the intercom?" Gwen decided to enter that subject.

Halsin chuckled. "Not necessairly. I'm an elf, so you're not really waking me up, just getting me away from my trance."

Her pink cheeks reddened as she finished her food, putting the plate aside. "I'm really sorry for the inconvienence. Truly, I didn't mean to use you in such way."

He waved a hand. "It's alright. It would be unfair to leave a neighbour out in the open in the middle of winter." Halsin sighed. "But tell me: why are you always forgetting your keys? Did somebody stole them?"

Gwen took a deep breath, standing up from the chair to go wash her plate. She looked down as she spoke. "No....it's-it's my mom. She's in the hospital."

"I apologize-"

"It's alright." Gwendolyn looked at him. "She caught some infection, so she has to stay there for treatment. I would stay there to accompany her, but I have to work, so only visitation hours for me." She took a deep breath. For a moment, she wondered if it was a good idea to be opening up to a stranger, but this Halsin seemed like a decent guy. Besides, she owned him an explanation. "The problem is, my mom has...episodes. I don't know what to call them, the doctor once said it was mania, I think." She shook her head. "Whatever it is, when she has those, she can get aggressive. Doesn't know where she is, begins to scream and harm herself. The only thing that calms her down is knowing I'm there, so when the hospital calls, I just run there."

"And everytime you go, you leave your keys behind." Halsin finished and she nodded. "I'm really sorry that you are going through this."

"It's...tough. But, I'll manage it." She gave him a tired smile. They looked at each other for a moment, before Gwen looked at the clock. "Oh shit, I think I'll have to leave soon."

"Then I'll be on my way then." Halsin stood up, making his way towards the door. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too!"

Halsin looked around and asked "Do you have any pen and paper?"

"Scratch! Go grab me the pen and paper!" She shouted and soon, the dog appeared with a block of stick paper and a pen on his mouth. "Good boy!" She said, before taking it from his mouth and handing it to Halsin.

Surprisingly, the paper was not as wet as he would have expected it, and so he quickly wrote something down. "You already know my apartment, but here's my personal number. If you ever need anything - help, a shoulder to cry on or a couch to crash in, feel free to give me a call." He gave the paper to her, walking out the door. "See you around."

"Bye." Gwen waved and closed the door, and quickly added his number to her phone. Maybe she would give him a call soon.

...

This based on @inaconstantstateofchange intercom prompt, which can be found here.

#ahhhh CUTE #i very much relate to gwen letting him in before she thinks better of it #and then realizing how messy her apt is #kkkkkk #bg3 #others' ocs #oc: gwen #bg3 fic #halsin

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#oh this did fully make me tear up this morning #d&d #queue're coming home with me

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THE TYRANNY OF THE SUN IS OVER

#bg3 #meme #minthara