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arcadeplayer-nickonz · 3 months

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Happy Valentine's from us to you! - Hazbin crew ♥️

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #charlie morningstar #alastor #vaggie #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel niffty #happy valentines #probably one of my biggest drawings yet! super proud with how it turned out #SHH I KNOW AL'S POWERS ARE GREEN IT'S FOR THE AESTHETIC-#and of course it ended up taking longer because i tweaked the designs here and there- why? cuz it's fun #i might just use them when i draw the crew from now on!#also holy shit believe me i had more planned for valentines day but things got hectic.. alas maybe i'll post the sketches at a later date #anyway hope you folks had a lovely valentines day :]#AND ESPECIALLY MY FELLOW ARO FOLK!!#nickonzart

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yea-baiyi · 4 months

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the key to understanding hua cheng’s appearance and how he occupies space is that he’s a transmasc goth who’s committed to red and silver as his aesthetic. ok. the layered hair the outfits the boots the chains. he doesn’t shave off his eyebrows and redraw them only because he is a shapeshifter and so his eyebrows grow the way he wants.

#tgcf #hua cheng #my visions n delusions #my hyperfixation demon #anyway footnotes:#the red is because it’s the colour of the eye he was rejected for. the name his mother gave him. the token of his saviour.#and also because they told him he was unlucky well fuck you. fuck you the colour of luck will always remind you of me now #the silver is interesting bc i read about the miao ppl which apparently hua chengs mother was meant to be member of #and only women wear those extensive silver jewellery particularly the neck cuffs #men wear smal pieces but the cultural practice is in women wearing them #so. trans hua cheng is so real so canon #but also he’s literally just a goth ok my entire vision board for him is just #glam rock and goth icons #i had a whole thing detailing his aesthetic in much longer detail but you’ll have to wait for if i ever finish this thing #tbh i might not end up posting a long headcanon piece because i’m really writing this in bits and pieces #turns out a lot of my headcanons are just extensive textual analysis that i internalised? and now i’m writing details turns out it’s a meta

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puppetmaster13u · 8 months

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You may regret this @phoenixcatch7 lol, what if I start spamming you /j

Less cryptid Batman in this particular WIP since it's semi-outsider pov lol (one of two outside person not unnerved by them lol)

🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇👻🪆🦇

Clark knew Batman wasn’t human, even before that disaster of a mission where he had let it slip to the others.

He’d known for a long time, from one of their early meetups, when Batman had first referred to him as Clark Kent instead of Kal-El, and he had panicked. He hadn’t ever lied to his teammates when he said that the cloak prevented him from seeing his body, but his ears still worked.

He’d tried to listen to a heartbeat, to see if his at the time temporary ally was lying when he stated he wasn’t going to tell anyone and… Nothing. There was no heartbeat, no breathing, nothing even remotely human, and if he didn’t know any better, nothing even remotely alive about the silence.

He couldn’t help but to pay attention more, to seek out the strange almost silence-feeling that accompanied the Gotham vigilante each time he felt it. It was… almost comforting, like the swaying of branches and the rustling of cloth over stone. Familiar, compared to the hustle and bustle surrounding him in the city.

The first thing he had noticed, physically that is, was Batman’s ears. Previously he’d thought the man unemotional, what with the rough voice, expressionless white eyes, cloak-covered body and the gas mask covering a good chunk of his face.

Yet the longer he watched, even idly, the more he noticed that while the man’s face or body didn’t show much, his ears did.

While Batman could stay silent and still for hours, the long ears twitched and swiveled, catching on the hood that he’d always wear around them. They’d pin back sometimes, a near silent sound he couldn’t quite place accompanying the movement, while other times they’d twist a near full three-sixty, as though searching for whatever sound it had caught.

Sometimes, when he’d startled the other vigilante, there’d be rattling noise, like wood and metal clacking together before it was cut off. It was a strange sound, one he’d not heard anywhere else, except with his… friend.

Were they friends? He’d like to think so.

The next time he was reminded that his friend wasn’t human was when he saw him get injured. It hadn’t been a bad injury, even if the Gothamite’s head had hit the wall with a very loud cracking noise, but he’d still smelled what he’d eventually come to recognize as blood. There was an almost pickle-like scent to it though that wasn’t quite it either.

Honestly the closest he could think of describing it was some sort of formaldehyde. And once he focused, he could pick out other things beneath it. Maybe not flesh and blood in the traditional sense, but still.

There was always that scent of cloth and wood, but he could smell the black liquid, paint, a metallic thing underneath like iron and steel. No heartbeat, no breath, but life all the same. It was honestly beautiful in a way, like a part of the city the other vigilante called home had come to life.

And it wasn’t like Batman minded whenever his own human mask slipped. Clark may have been raised by his Ma and Pa, whom he loved, but it didn’t make his body any more human in nature. There were just some things that he couldn’t change, and it took effort to move like one all day as a civilian when his body wasn’t designed to do so.

So he stayed quiet for the most part when their group of three grew, and people started to speculate. He diverted the conversations whenever it turned to him, lightly admonishing over the various rumors.

It didn’t matter if Batman wasn’t human, he was still his friend, their ally and teammate. Was he curious? Oh of course, he’d gone into journalism for a reason after all, but it was still his friend. If he wanted to tell, he’d tell, and Clark wouldn’t break his trust.

#possessed doll au #possessed puppet au #This is pretty much the start of the doll reveal I did art for from Clark's and Diana's pov lol #batman au #cryptid batman #clark kent #superman #writing wip #Bruce when Clark first bends an arm in a way a human can't: I shall take note of this to see if I can do this later #Clark: Wow I have a friend who doesn't mind me doing weird things yay!#I like to think that the dolls start getting black veins through the wood like a mimicry of human arteries the longer they're in use #It's a symbiotic relationship that starts semi parasitic but turns mutually beneficial as the bond grows stronger #Diana who is made of clay probably also has a bit of a reveal to her teammates at some point I just realized #Maybe add my kintsugi headcanon for amazons in this oneshot lol #Might post the finished oneshot in AO3 if you'd be fine with it #Absolutely love this AU so much <3<3<3 #Bruce is unaware of how expressive his ears are when he doesn't have them tucked down to not hit them on ceilings lol #Clark isn't aware that half the time Bruce is not listening for sounds but listening to comms and for vibrations #Pfft oh I can't wait for Constantine or another magic user meets the batclan for the first time #Just chanting “what the fuck” over and over because *wtf is up with that*#It's like a wooden homunculus thing mixed with a sacrifice and willing possession and so much that *Should Not* be a single creature #How many tags until Tumblr has the munchies and eats them #random thing but wasn't there one series of games or comics or whatever where the batfam had a robotic dog or two #I am *just saying*-#Clark: He don't bite #Batman hunched over like some sort of predator about to pounce with spikes out and rattling/clattering angrily:#Goons & Future JL members: YES HE DO #batman #bruce wayne #dc

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sensitiveheartless · 8 months

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...K this is going to sound completely out of the blue, but this has been haunting me today —

#I have found a few things while googling but my results are inconclusive! <-(this might be because i am operating with very few braincells)#Has he ever consumed a fly on screen in any show or movie? Like #fully???#sidenote but this burning question has led me to the discovery that there is an entire wiki section titled 'MUPPETS EATING OTHER MUPPETS'#...anyway do not be concerned my brain is just in a weird headspace because I haven't properly left my room since thursday morning lol #and obviously i'm going to stay isolated until i'm better!#in the meantime I will have muppet thoughts apparently #hmmm muppet au #...oh god. has anyone done a 'bsd where everything is the same but Dazai is a muppet'?#because that would be glorious #or wait #going by muppet movie logic I guess it would have to be one human with an entire cast of muppets so —#who would the human be???#oh no oh NO hold on wait—#what if all ability users are muppets #and Dazai's ability is 'NO LONGER MUPPET' and he can poke people and turn them into full humans #HELP #senhart rambles #polls #i do not know what else to tag this with so i simply shall not

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clewis · 8 months

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H2O: JUST ADD WATER | IMDB's top 10 rated episodes | Season 2 ↳ #7 — Episode 16 "Double Trouble" — 8.1 ★

#h2oedit #h2o just add water #tvedit #i LOVE this episode but i'm not very happy with how this turned out #still i've been remaking it so many times if i have to look at it for a moment longer i might just delete the whole thing so...... *posts*#h2o jaw #top10 #h2o: just add water #h2o #mine #s2 #s2top10

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morsartis · 11 months

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Kiss The Girl

Marvus x fem!Reader

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Fish darted through the tanks in brilliant colors, the cooler lighting highlighting the brilliance of their scales. All around you were families and couples enjoying their own outings. Despite this, the aquarium was remarkably slow today. What little crowds that managed to form always dispersed as if to mimic the schools of aquatic life you’d all come to see. Leaving you and Marvus in your own personal bubble. You had wandered into a more secluded indoor section of the aquarium to escape the hot sun, this one boasting small Alternian fish with iridescent white scales and vivid violet eyes. You knew it must have cost the aquarium a fortune to get them- or maybe a violetblood had been taken with the fanciful notion of the aquarium and donated the fish for their own amusement. It was always hard to tell. Either way you watched as the fish swam lazily through the water with their spiny barbs and fancy flared fins. Like a mix between a betta fish and a catfish. Beside you Marvus chuckled.

“That one looks like that lil’ violet that you been bringin’ ‘round.” He pointed to a fish near the bottom corner that was much smaller than the rest- and seemed to be sulking grumpily as it watched the others swim around. You stifled a laugh. It did look like Eridan oddly enough.

“That’s rude Marvus.” You couldn’t keep the humor out of your voice despite trying to scold your matesprite.

“Am I wrong?” He asked sardonically as he glanced down at you lazily. This time you couldn’t help the snort that left you.

“Eridan’s a wriggler, play nice.”

“Sure. Soon as he stops eyein’ you like a piece a fresh grubloaf.”

“Oh please. He’s just happy to have a friend. May I remind you how Zebruh gets?”

“I could still cull him if you want lil mama. Ain’t no big thing.”

“You know I don’t want you killing people on my behalf.”

“Worth a shot.” He teased leaning down to steal a quick kiss. Leaning into the kiss you rolled your eyes at his antics. Even so, you couldn’t help but smile at him when the two of you pulled away.

“Culling is illegal here on Earth, Dear.” You reminded him. Marvus gave you an exaggerated pout.

“I still say we should do it anyway.”

“No.” You replied bluntly, already walking away. Marvus snickered in amusement, his long legs catching up to you instantly as he placed a chilled hand on your shoulder and gently guided you more firmly to his side. The two of you made an odd pair, you’d admit. Especially to the people in the mostly empty aquarium. One human girl in her pale sundress and her juggalo troll companion in the most form fitting t-shirt he could get his hands on and an absolutely gaudy pair of skinny jeans. Still, it was nice to have a normal date. It’d been so long since either of you had had the time to spend together outside of stolen moments after Marvus’ concerts. Having this day just to be normal and in love was something you’d be riding the high of for weeks. Months even.

“Is that a cafe?” Marvus asked in confusion pointing at a cluster of tacky straw roofed “hut” shaped tables tucked near a tropical themed alcove.

“Looks like it.” You snorted in amusement.

“That is the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Marvus told you as the two of you drew closer.

“Oh its horrible.” You agreed, entertainment thick in your tone.

“Who told them this was okay?”

“Not a clue.” “Even the menu items are tacky.”

“They are.”

“I want pictures.”

The two of you shared a look before dissolving into laughter. At least this way you’d both have something to eat. Not a bad way to end a date really.

#I might revisit this and turn it into a longer fic #If I can ever find the time #marvus xoloto #marvus xoloto x reader #friendsim #homestuck #hiveswap #reader insert #mspa reader #marvus x reader #requests #I really enjoyed this though!#So thank you for the request!#As always my inbox is forever open #Even if it takes me an ice age to get to things

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marypsue · 5 months

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You ever get burnt out on a WIP (sometimes because you get burnt out on the canon it's for) and make exactly no progress on it for ages, but then something makes you go back and look over comments you've gotten on and conversations you've had about other fic you've written for that fandom, and get hype about your WIP and working on it all over again? Because that feeling is potent.

#made me go back and reread the first chapter of the WIP and. man.#i might have to revisit canon briefly to get these people's voices back in my head but you know what? i am no longer dreading that #AND the first chapter turned out to have the way in to the scene I got stuck on hiding in it!#anyway anybody who has ever said a nice or thoughtful thing about my writing: biggest of thanks you don't even know Your Impact

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kukkakisu · 1 month

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Lend me your life.

Words; 1455 Content warnings; Death, thoughts of death/self-harm, abandonment, descriptions of a mask attaching itself to an employee A look into CC's last moments alive before he turned into a Masked.

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How long had it been?

Keeping track of time was the least of CC's concerns, yet when there was nothing but the silence of the mansion walls to keep them company, they couldn't help but wonder. How much time had passed? Hours? Days?

Their fingers pressed against the colorful Rubix cube they had picked up some time ago, turning it idly as they stared at the ceiling. There was no intent to solve it, it was just a distraction to occupy their mind. To give them something to do. Something to focus on.

It was strange to notice how small things became so important to your survival, once you were stuck in a grim situation. Even so, CC was nearing their limits.

At first, they had tried to find their crewmates. They had felt worried, but after some time that worry morphed into fear. Even so, they wanted to believe in them and not lose hope. Surely they wouldn't have left them here? I mean, nobody would just abandon a new intern on a desolate moon, right? And even if there was a reason for them to leave, they'd come back. They'd…

The movement of CC's hands stopped and the cube slipped, clattering lightly as it fell on the wooden floor. Who were they kidding? They weren't coming and they knew that damn well. As CC lay still, they felt their chest get uncomfortably tight. Tears made their way up to their eyes and they struggled to keep them from pouring down. There wasn't even anyone to hear them cry, yet they wanted to hold it in so badly-- just to prove to the others that they were strong enough. Capable of doing more than just messing up.

CC knew their crew was likely disappointed with them. They made a lot of mistakes and weren't as quick, efficient, or strong as the rest. CC couldn't do as much as they did. No matter how much they had tried, it just wasn't enough. Maybe they had finally lost their patience and decided to leave them here so they could find someone new… Not that CC would get to know what they thought now.

They had oxygen but… For how long? And what about food and water? Not to mention the stories of dangerous creatures that could be lurking inside this mansion. No matter how they looked at it, they weren't making it out alive.

It was a scary thought. Yet at the same time, it was something they were starting to hope for. Being stuck here alone was far worse than dying to something swiftly. They didn't want to be alone.

Sure, they had found a few items to keep them company but it wasn't enough. They craved a human connection. Someone to listen to, or someone to talk to. The silence was overwhelming and talking to themselves could only get them so far.

The spiraling thoughts were finally enough to make the warm tears drop down their cheeks. Instinctively, they reached to wipe them, only for their hand to collide with the helmet's visor. Ah. Right. They couldn't take it off. It was the thing that was keeping them alive. Silent breaths grew heavier at their frustration and soon enough CC found themselves sobbing loudly. They wanted to take this stupid helmet off. They couldn't take this anymore.

Their cries were interrupted by a sound. A first they had heard in a long while. Laughter. A low chuckle. It made them go quiet and jolt up. What was that? Did they imagine it? They shook their head as they sniffled. They must have been finally losing their mind. But then they heard it again. A longer chuckle. The voice was deep and distorted yet despite the eerie tone, it felt oddly gentle. CC's eyes focused on one of the items that were on the floor beside them. A white comedy mask. The noise had to come from that, they were certain of it.

"Are you… Trying to comfort me?" CC reached for the mask, picking it up. As if replying to their question, a muffled laugh came from it. At this point, they didn't care if it was a delusion or not. It was comforting. They wanted this. They needed this. They broke down into a sob once more and held the mask carefully against their chest.

"Thank you…"

Eventually, they let their body lay back on the ground and held the mask above them. They wondered if it was more than just an item and if it had seen and heard everything that had happened from the very moment they had picked it up from the main hall's staircase. They exhaled through their nose in amusement at the thought. Yep. They were losing their mind. There was no way any of these items were sentient. Still… If the thought comforted them and kept them going for a bit longer, it was worth it to entertain it.

Without thinking, they brought the mask closer to their visor. It was a neat looking thing, now that they had a closer look at it. They wondered how it had remained in such a pristine condition if this moon and its manor had been abandoned years ago.

A strange sound interrupted CC's thoughts. Muffled mutters. Chatters. As if something was talking underwater. Many voices distorting into one. And then…

The mask lit up and pressed itself against their helmet. It shattered the glass of their visor, pushing itself into their skin. They shut their eyes and their body convulsed at the intense pain. Something was burning into their face. Dulling their mind as it sank deeper and deeper. Like a wave that engulfed you into the depths of the ocean. Eating them away, bit by bit. It felt painful and all of their nerves burned in desperate resistance as their body continued to twitch. Yet somehow, something about it was… Peaceful. Like slowly falling into a comfortable dream. With each passing second, their movements started to slow down and they felt calmer and calmer. They should have continued to fight it, but they didn't. They had accepted their fate. They were willing to let go. And so, they let that comfortable stillness hold them like a blanket until everything finally went dark. CC's eyes remained closed and they fell into a soothing dream. One where they were safe. One where they wouldn't feel pain. One, which they would never wake up from.

Employee 115: [Life support: OFFLINE]

While one faded away into the depths, another surfaced.

With a sharp gasp, the body moved again. It was strange, to be something that could move on its own accord as it pleased. As expected, it wasn't an easy task to do. After all, how could you know if you had never done it before? With a wobbly movement, he pushed himself up to sit. The floor felt cold under his gloved hands. What a strange sensation. As his gaze wandered, he took in the room he was in. Dimly lit. Pleasant to the eye. His gaze eventually found the cube lying next to him and he picked it up. What a colorful, curious thing. Something about it made him feel warm. What was this feeling? He wasn't sure, but it felt important. He wanted to keep this. Mimicking what his host had done a moment ago, he pressed the item close to his chest and held it gently like a treasured friend. He was confused by how this body felt and moved but wanted to honor the person who had given it to him. He had been watching. He had seen the way the intern had been treated. And he had seen how they had treated his mask. They were kind. Their crew was not. He was unsure if his compassion was his alone or the result of inhabiting a body with such a sensitive mind. Was this how it felt to feel?

Overwhelmed by the intensity of the newly discovered emotions, he found himself sobbing. Red liquid dripped from the mask and stained its white surface as his muffled sounds echoed in the empty room.

It was ironic to take a life for yourself, only to feel just as lost and alone as they must have felt. Even so, in his mind, an equal exchange was made. They were granted the peace they wanted and he was given the freedom that he craved. While the unknown was frightening, this was what he wanted. He would figure things out. He would learn. He would live. For him. For them.

With a quiet, strained voice the newly formed Masked finally spoke his first words.

"Thank you… For lending me… Your life."

#lethal company oc #masked oc #ocstuff #dropping some Copycat lore and skittering away #there might be some grammar mistakes since I'm not a native English speaker but I'm happy with how this turned out #it's been a while since I've written longer things like this #I might write some continuation to this later #Or just like general adventures of Copycat type of stuff

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harvestmoth · 1 year

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heres my one page thesis on why hinomori mafuyu real

#back on this again. apologizes but the newest event hit me across the face #they found her in a wet cardboard box all alone…#also all of l/n call her babygirl its just that mafuyu only knows this from kanade who in turn has only heard honami say it #anyways heres my thoughts on the hinomoris and why they should get to keep mafuyu #uh.#so everyone knows how mafuyu has the mask she puts on yea. but i dont really see people mention how shiho and shizuku. also have that #in different but still similar ways #with shizuku putting on a perfect act where shes always smiling for her idol job and as to not worry her friends and shiho #while shiho puts on her act of not caring and pushing everyone way so they dont have to deal with her or the people who target her #so as we can see here. they both put on a mask and are self sacrificial about it for the sake of others #mafuyu does that too but instead of doing it for her friends and those that actually care about her. she does it for her mom who does not #idk. anyways something something these three have a similar way of dealing with things by bottling it up until they no longer feel it #do you get me #do you understand what im on about #if not idk i might be making it all up i havent had a chance to watch all of the events and ive been kind of skipping around on them #like watching the newer ones first which is probably not the best idea #okay im done now i just want others to see the vision and do my work for me #project sekai #mafuyu asahina #shiho hinomori #shizuku hinomori #oh last thing. shiho and shizuku absolutely beat up asahina its what they all deserve #asahina mother i mean. not mafuyu. they beat each other up in the losing at card games way while they beat up asahina mom with a steel chair

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sualne · 7 months

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I'm so excited/terrified to see what happens after crocodile betrays Robin cause like. She's Luffys best friend and he's so not gonna take that well. Part of me thinks that Luffys gonna runaway(with Robin?) because of it and that's how we're gonna start meeting other people

:^^^^^^^^^^^^^)

#crocau ask #arc 1 is like. so close yet so far. like. i have the mini arc within the prologue thats about 4 comics long (could become 5) and then the #last thing i need to do is show robin's relationship between luffy and croc more clearly. which is at least 2 comics but might need more.#so including the comic im working on theres at least 7 comics left before were done with prologue!! but!! theres also the keeping up with #the strawhats interlude before we can start arc1 and mannn. im all hyped in my corner and i cant draw that fast (and shouldnt)#the prologue has already turned much longer than i had originally planned (and is much better for it for sure) but ough. hype

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orbitfalls · 21 days

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The rosier twins slowly becoming more and more entangled in the Ultraviolence plot in my mind palace:

#one more train ride with music in my headphones and I can no longer justify calling this a black family character study #like m just saying #this whole thing might just take….. a turn

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detroit-become-dyke · 21 days

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A soulmate AU where you feel the physical pain your soulmate feels.

Featuring butch!Hank and fem!Connor - inspired by @maddsmallow's art (no I will never shut up about this)

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Hank had never for a day in her life felt the physical pain of another human being. Not like every other fucking person on Earth. Nope, the only pain she felt was her own, and that she inflicted with gusto. The drinking, the neglect, the late nights alone in the cold. If the universe didn’t deign to grant Hank the shared pain of another soul, Hank could certainly make up for it without much effort.

Though she spent day after day and night after night stewing in an emotional torment of her own design, Hank never knew what it was like to feel a pain originate from outside her own flesh and blood. That is, until she did.

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Hank woke with a start, her heart pounding and her blood rushing like it used to ages ago, when she was chasing down a perp. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Hank growled, her voice scratchy with sleep, but pain laced in every syllable. “What the fuck?” Was this a heart attack? Hank was old, but she wasn’t that old. If it was a heart attack, why did she feel like she was falling? Holy shit, she was falling. She didn’t know how–laid perfectly flat in her king sized bed–but she was definitely falling. She could feel it with every fiber of her being. The beating of her heart, the fear that gripped her chest, and finally, finally, the impact.

“Fuck!” Hank cursed once more, although it was really more of a moan. It felt like every bone in her body had broken, all at once, leaving her prone and breathless in the sheets. A deep sense of panic set in–a realization that she, in fact, was not ready to die. Just as the physical pain was becoming unbearable and Hank teetered on the edge of consciousness, all the pain in her body–apart from the near-constant hangover–abruptly disappeared. The sudden lack of broken bones left Hank gasping for air, and it took her a full five minutes before she felt able to move.

Gently moving first her arms and then her legs, Hank inspected her limbs to verify that they hadn’t indeed been smashed to pieces as her senses had led her to believe. Everything seemed to be intact. Not a grey hair on her body appeared out of place, and the only scars that crossed her skin were ones that had healed long ago.

After several long minutes of laying in bed in silence, stroking a concerned Sumo who had hopped into bed the moment Hank cried out in pain, the inevitable finally occurred to Hank. That was her fucking soulmate’s pain.

Fifty-three years, Hank thought. Fifty-three years without a soulmate. What, were they in a goddamn plastic bubble for all this time and then what, fall off a motherfucking building?

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Now with part 2!

#just a silly little thing i wrote at 3am bcs i can't sleep lol #anyways i might turn this into a longer fic...maybe as i start my next dbh gameplay #tw drinking #tw neglect #poor hank lol #imagine never feeling ur soulmates pain and then all of a sudden…BOOM fall off a building #lol poor gal #no beta we die like connors #hankcon #soulmate au #butch!hank #fem!con

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ctommy-chileno · 1 month

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I'm doing great at this poverty thing 👍

#turns out having lots of family that can and will buy things out of nowhere is great actually #fonasa tramo A vamoooo #soon.....SOON #i will no longer be poor #and will obtain GAMES #and HOUSE APPLIANCES #and most importantly SNACKS #might even have breakfast again

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jacqcrisis · 1 month

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So Ronan the dragonborn cleric has his journal and a habit of drawing. Alongside his dry recounts of the day, the more spicy prose written in draconic that frustrates his nosey companions, and simplistic stick figure diagrams of action he can't draw properly, are more detailed sketches. These sketches are generally reserved for animals or plants, especially flowers, he happens across and enjoys, jotted down to the best of memory alongside the words written about the days events.

But between those, every now and then, are drawings of people, most notably people he finds important in some way. These sketches aren't hyper realistic or artful as his capabilities are amateur at best, but they are detailed and good enough you would recognize who they were depicting. He's not trying to become a master of the art, but just good enough that he can have a visual reminder of someone if they should leave him or pass away.

Sometime during Act 2, after the conversation with the mirror about Astarion not remembering what he looks like but before he confesses to feeling something more, Ronan notices his journal is missing. Again. It happens often enough that he's not worried, but he would like it back so he does the rounds around camp to see which sticky-fingered companion took it tonight.

After checking with nearly everyone save Wyll, Ronan finds Astarion a little ways away from everyone, sat near a torch and hunched over conspicuously. Upon silently walking up to him, standing just behind him, Ronan waits just a few moments until his presence is felt. Predictably, Astarion jumps to his feet, hand going for a dagger with the journal clutched to his chest as he whips around to face his would be assailant.

Of course, it's just Ronan and Astarion sighs in a melodramatic relief, commenting that they should perhaps bell the dragonborn when he isn't in his horrendously loud armor. Ronan grunts, holding out a hand expectantly and what follows is a rather typical back and forth as Astarion teasingly mentions all the 'dirty little secrets' he's supposedly gleaned from the journal while Ronan steadfastly asks for the damn thing back as he'd like to make an entry and get to sleep. But something's off, as usually after a minute or two the leather bound book is halfway into Ronan's hand, being pulled away a time or two, yet Astarion is keeping it close to himself, as if reluctant to give it back.

Ronan notices, interrupts Astarion in midst of being complained at over his assessment of the rogue's battle performance to ask if everything is alright. For a moment, Astarion says yes, of course, well as good as he can be starving and exhausted in the middle of this godforsaken place but-

And he stops, chewing on his lip, troubled as he opens the journal again to flip to the page he'd had his thumb wormed into this whole time. He touches his face and Ronan can feel what's coming before Astarion opens his mouth to ask if the person on the page is him. He doesn't even need to see the sketch Astarion shows him; there's a lot of the elf drawn in that journal.

Ronan nods and then immediately mutters something akin to an apology that his artistic talent is lacking, receiving a joke about how Astarion certainly wouldn't hang anything he's drawn by his bedroll that trails off. Then he's silent for a moment, taking the journal back to stare down at the page before he supposes it's the best he'll get. It's a want for a way to help that strikes Ronan as he watches, struggling with what to say and wishing he had some way to alleviate that grief, to show him-

But there is a way to show him, isn't there?

It takes some convincing and a promise to not probe into Astarion's thoughts, but eventually a reluctant vampire is standing illuminated in a holy daylight summoned eagerly for just the occasion. He's instructed to close his eyes as Ronan crouches down to get the best view he can and takes Astarion's hand to press his palm to a scaley temple. The connection is immediate, Astarion's sight filled with a clear picture of himself, of a face he hasn't seen in centuries mirrored perfectly through Ronan's steady and concentrated gaze.

He's given as much time as he needs, Ronan seemingly happy to stare at him as he takes it all in. There's something filtering through the cleric's ironclad concentration, made only more apparent at every observation and joke Astarion makes while refamiliarizing himself with himself. Words and phrases pop into mind, squashed before they complete like the sound of them being thrust underwater to muffle and become incoherent.

Comments about his features, about his voice, about the hand still curled against Ronan's temple, about how close they are. Noachi, that draconic nickname Ronan's given him that he still has no idea the meaning of, thought less like a word and more like a fond prayer floating through as Ronan chuckles at some quip Astarion makes about not remembering his chin being like that. But there's another thing that Ronan can't seem to stop coloring his perception and his thoughts.

It's not a word or a phrase or even a picture. Merely a feeling, a warmth, deep and radiating, growing stronger and stronger the longer Ronan is staring at Astarion. So much so, it colors the picture he's presenting as a glow emanates around Astarion that has nothing to do with the magical daylight or the nearby torch or anything about himself, as if that warmth Ronan is feeling is warping his very sight.

And it's a feeling that Astarion recognizes, has tried not to recognize for a little while now, ignoring and writing it off and burying it at every turn. A feeling that answers back within him and that shakes him. Frightens him enough, he takes his hand away, opens his eyes to break the connection.

Astarion thanks him, kind of, inbetween commenting that he hopes Ronan is happy he's probably satisfied his need to stare at Astarion for the evening before actually saying something that amounts to gratitude. It gets him another chuckle, and Ronan bows his head with a little smile, telling him 'anytime, noachi' before leaving Astarion alone. The daylight fades away to nothing and Astarion is left by the torch, watching Ronan take his journal to the rest of the rest of camp as he touches his face, lost in thought.

#jacq writes #yes i did spend a long time pondering draconic words on the forgetten realms wiki why do you ask #this turned out a lot longer than intended fucking hell #ive had this idea forever #i guess its kind of a teaser for a longer fic idea #im avoiding finishing the game lmao #might finish today but in the mean time!#i write silly things #theres more that happens directly after this #its a whole feelings thing as astarion has a think after being confronted by what hes been doing and where thats led him #while sitting by and watching a sleeping lizard after he fed on him #ANYWAYS #bg3

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bembwashere · 1 year

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The Call Thumbnail Art

Since I'm not doing much digital art recently, I think posting the thumbnail art I did for my animatic would be pretty neat.