#nascente

[falangesdovento]

#lucas lima #falanges do vento #espiritualidade #pazdeespírito #meditação #natureza #corredeira #nascente #água cristalina #bons fluídos

[mrapaz]

Contemplação Matinal

O dia clareou como sempre acontece nessas manhãs frias de inverno: o sol avermelhou o céu pouco a pouco, ainda com preguiça, se extendendo por detrás da serra, ao Leste. Já não era tão cedo, o café dos dias corriqueiros já estava pronto. Fosse em outra estação, obsoleto já estaria queimando, mas não nessa. Àquela hora ele mal se esticava no horizonte delimitado por aquela serra não muito…

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#arte #café #contemplação #Contemplação Matinal #dia #M.Rapaz #manhã #nascente #nascer do sol #prosa #sol

[brewstersbru]

More halstarion cuz ive been playing my lil origin run; also happy halloween folks !

Pain. Sharp, dragging, unbearable agony against his back. Astarion huffs a small noise of pitiful discontent before clenching his mouth shut. Quiet. Can’t let him hear you. His fangs tear a little into his gums, but there isn’t enough blood in him for any to really trickle out of the wounds. 

A voice- disembodied, but cold and lilting as ever- sounds from behind. “My dear, how prettily you bleed. Even lovelier now, with the poetry I am bestowing upon you. Truly, a gift. And what do we say to gifts, Astarion?” 

Astarion moans miserably into the ground- or is it a steel surgical table? He can’t remember, he can’t focus. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. There’s a feeling of hands in his hair, grasping, tearing- the flash of a derisive, fanged grin- “What do we say, Astarion?”

His name sounds like rot coming from his lips, similar to the way one would utter the word “disgusting” or “vile”. Astarion hiccups with the force of his suffering- it’s simply too much, never before has Cazador been so persistent, never before has he carved so deep, for so long. Astarion’s weak, starving body cannot maintain itself against his tides of cruelty.

There is quiet as Cazador waits for his answer, he knows Astarion will do his very best to give it. Years and years of this torment had to have culminated into something- into an exceedingly loyal dog, he’d hoped. It’s why he tries not to command anything; not only because it takes the fun out of things, but also because it encourages a kind of devotion to the task that a simple order could never elicit. Pain can be such a useful tool, and he’s spent years honing his skill with it. 

Astarion gasps, chokes on a putrid mix of saliva and droplets of rat blood as they clog in his throat. “T-Thank you.” He coughs. Cazador hums and pushes his head back down. He runs a sharp nail down the middle of the warm, wet mess on Astarion’s back. It stings like a million tiny needles.

“Thank you, what?”

He digs the nail into one of the runes he’d just finished carving, ever so slightly, and Astarion writhes in agony. His breath comes choppy and ragged, and tears track endlessly down his nose. A moment, two, as Astarion brings a heaving breath in and steels himself against the revulsion he is about to feel.

“Thank you, Master.” The hum this elicits is decidedly pleased and Astarion hates himself all the more for earning it. If only he was stronger, if only he were able to hold out just a bit longer. If only he’d been able to make himself wait; Cazador would have grown tired, would have ordered him, eventually. 

Now, he is little more than a lapdog, bereft of even his pride, and the pain will only continue. How he despises the man he’s become, the man Cazador has moulded him into. 

The agony in his back resumes, even sharper and more unbearable than before. Astarion muffles a scream behind clenched teeth and wrenches his eyes open to reveal a circling of trees. A cool gust of air swipes across his sweat-soaked skin and he shivers, slightly. 

Astarion takes a moment to orient himself. He’d been trancing, curled into himself and facing away from the fire- Gods know why, he could use all the heat he can get with the way his undead body refuses to hold onto it on its own; some lingering self-flagellation, perhaps. 

He’s no longer bound to Cazador- for the time being at least- he’s fine. The ‘dream’ or whatever that had been was only a memory. Nothing more. He’s fine. 

Sitting up, he swats at the tear tracks on his cheeks and comes face-to-face with a wide-eyed Halsin, who had been whittling, it seems, judging by the knife in one hand and the partially carved wooden-something in the other. Astarion ducks and covers his face with a slender hand.  

“What in the hells are you doing, you oaf!?”

“… Whittling?” Halsin’s voice cracks a bit as he stumbles over the word. Astarion tries not to notice how endearing that is. He huffs.

“I gathered. Could you just- turn around? Please?” 

Halsin tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and stares at him with furrowed brows, mouth set in a firm line. He speaks carefully, but directly, unable to tiptoe around a subject when they’re both aware of the gravity of it.

“Are you alright, my friend? I don’t mean to pry, it’s just I noticed-“

“Not now.” Astarion’s voice comes out rough, grating, and he cannot bring himself to look Halsin in the eye as he speaks. 

“… Alright” There’s a shuffling as- assumedly- Halsin picks himself up and heads back to his tent. Astarion only allows himself a breath of relief when the other man’s footsteps retreat outside of his range of hearing. 

On one hand, Astarion is astoundingly, exceedingly grateful to have his wishes honored. On the other, it is so, very quiet, and he can still feel the ghosts of fingers petting, clawing and grasping at his skin. He feels dirty, a vile little thing ought to be left in the dirt. 

His back aches- phantom pains, he knows- and even years after their conception his scars throb. It’s not the first time this has happened, but it is the first time he’s been able to focus on it, the first time no other, greater pain can distract him from the dull shock of remembrance. Maybe he’d never healed correctly, maybe it’s his mind playing its usual tricks. 

Suddenly unable to stand the scratch of cloth against the raised skin on his back, Astarion wrestles his shirt off of himself. Sharp nails dragging uncaringly against the skin as if trying to sate an itch. He wants the ‘poetry’ off of himself, he wants to be clean.

His scratching becomes more fervent, less careful as his thoughts spiral. A sob works its way up, only to die in his throat, he chokes a little on it. Off. Off. Off. He needs it off. He wishes he could claw the taint away. His skin crawls under his fingernails, even as they scratch past skin. Blood flows, sluggish, down the bony curve of his spine. It is not an unfamiliar feeling. 

A sharp gasp sounds, quiet, but cutting in the previous silence that had pervaded the space around the campfire. Astarion does not dare look up from the ground. Great. Another interruption to him losing his fucking mind. 

Thankfully- which, who could guess he’d ever think the word in relation to the druid- it’s just Halsin again. Arms now laden with jars and cloth, rather than the sharp woodworking tools he’d left the fire with. The jars are labeled, but his scrawl is too small for Astarion to parse the words. 

“Astarion, my friend, please cease this needless self-mutilation!” He rushes to Astarion’s side, carefully placing the jars on the side of his bedroll and gently, loosely grasping at Astarion’s wrists- assumedly to encourage the vampire to pry his claws from his skin. He doesn’t push, simply holds him there.

The warmth is welcome, grounding in the swirl of pain and cold and despair that had previously been clouding Astarion’s mind. He lets out an unnecessary, but comforting breath and allows his hands to be pried away. 

“Good. That’s good, my friend, thank you.” 

Astarion grouses a discontented sound, to which Halsin huffs a small chuckle. 

“Alright- you’re alright. You were looking rather pale- moreso than usual at least- and I had hoped some of my oils or salves could soothe any injuries you’d overlooked, or old aches.” He pauses for a moment and rifles through the pile of goods he’d brought over, “As elves, our ‘nightmares’ are more memories, than anything. I’m more than familiar with a long-forgotten wound making itself known after a particularly jarring remembrance. I am sorry yours were so visceral.”

He’s babbling, Astarion notices, low voice rather quick compared to its usual steady thrum, but he can appreciate the effort in attempting to keep him grounded. His body doesn’t want to move, though, and he simply slumps into himself, gaze steadily forward, hollow, almost in its vacancy. 

“Here let me-“ A warmth hovers over the mess of Astarion’s back. Well, this is rather familiar. But it pauses,hesitates. Still, Astarion can feel himself tensing. A short, ragged sound punches out of him, unwitting. Halsin hums. 

“Apologies, my friend, it seems my manners have escaped me in my nerves. May I touch you? I wish only to soothe the hurt, I have a balm that should do the trick well and once I’ve applied it, my hands will not touch your skin again should you wish it.”

Astarion takes a moment, another unnecessary breath, then nods. It’s curt, almost imperceptible really, but Halsin had been paying very close attention to his body’s reactions. He thanks him- what for, Astarion cannot even begin to fathom. 

It’s quiet as Halsin’s deft fingers tenderly pass a wet towelette down his spine to clean the blood from it. It soothes, cool and stinging against new cuts and Astarion can only hope that at least he’d left new scars. Something to disrupt the carving of pure malice that had lain there, undisturbed, for so long. 

“Thank you.” It takes a while, and his voice is fairly destroyed by what he can only assume had been long minutes of screaming and sobbing in his sleep, coupled with the panic attack after waking. Halsin’s fingers continue their deft work. 

“Please. No need. If I may I- I hate to see you struggle so. Is there anything that caused it? Anything we can avoid?” His sincerity is sweet, but useless. Astarion shakes his head.

“Comes and goes, really. Used to be able to ignore it with other things. Can’t focus on memories when the present is fucked too, right?” Astarion chuckles, but Halsin does not join in. 

It’s quiet for a bit, Halsin’s hands feel almost hesitant against his skin, “I am not a man easily drawn to violence but- well- your old master deserves nothing but the slowest, most painful death possible. I know it means little but I am sorry. You did not deserve his torment. No one could deserve that.”

“I was no angel in life, druid. For a long time, it seemed like a penance.” The words are almost hissed, but the sincerity in them is unmistakable.

“Even penance ends, eventually, Astarion. Forgiveness usually follows. Two hundred years is more than enough time. Especially when you had not even truly lived before being thrust into undeath- I mean thirty-nine? You still bear your child name.” Halsin sounds almost pained, although his hands remain steady, now pressing fingerfuls of balm to each cut, and even the undamaged rune-scars too. Something in Astarion howls, surges forward into an incessant rage at the tenderness.  

“And perhaps I was a truly devilish child, druid! Perhaps I deserved it!” Halsin sighs. 

“No one deserves that, Astarion. You have to know that.”

“If I allow myself to believe that, then I have to accept victimhood. I have to accept that loss of control. I have to accept that it’s not that I deserved it, it’s that no one cared enough to try to save me. Tell me, druid, which would you rather believe.” With a final, gentle pass of his thumb Halsin retreats. Shamefully, Astarion misses the warmth of his touch. The druid rounds his bedroll, settling criss-crossed in front of him and busying himself with organizing his bottles into a neat pile.

“Well, first, I’d like it if you used my name and not my title. It feels rather impersonal talking to you when you won’t even call me ‘Halsin’. Second, I truly don’t know, but I have always favored the truth over anything else.”

Astarion hisses, “I will call you what I like, not what you tell me to call you.” Halsin simply nods, and something inside him deflates. Backs down from its haunches. 

“Oh, alright, you big baby. Halsin. Maybe the truth is that I was- however implausibly- the kind of person to deserve my penance.”

Halsin seems to light up at the sound of his name from Astarion’s lips. Astarion tries to find it dorky and uncool and not hopelessly endearing. Then, “I find that incredibly hard to believe. Had you even chosen an adult name? Had anything in mind?”

Astarion falls quiet at this. “I had an idea, a few, maybe. I remember being excited about them, I thought I was so clever with the word choice… But I cannot remember them. Cazador only called me by this name, when he deigned to adress me, and I did not exactly have the time or energy to care about choosing another.”

Something within Halsin cracks at the admission. To have that rite stolen from him was abhorrent. Heartbreaking. 

“Truly you remember nothing?”

Astarion shrugs, “Hard to find that kind of thing important when there are other, more pressing matters. It’s not like the names would fit me anymore, either, two hundred years have taken their toll, after all.” He smiles, a crooked, self-depreciating thing and gestures to himself, the scars on his back. “Thank you, by the way. I wouldn’t have treated them on my own.” The thanks doesn’t even need to be forced from his lips. Halsin smiles at the ease with which it is offered. 

“No need. And I know.”

It’s quiet for a while longer. The two of them take the time to simply look at each other. Astarion wonders, for perhaps the millionth time, what Halsin is seeing as he gazes at him with such open fondness and admiration. Surely it cannot be him. Godssakes he hasn’t even seen himself in two hundred years, who knows what kind of effect it’s had on his wrinkles. He tries not to dwell. 

“I’m going to read.” Astarion says, when he can no longer stand the thought of just how many lines have been carved in his face, without the help of Cazador’s many painful instruments. Halsin simply nods, but continues searching his face. Astarion is unsure what he’s looking for, but is fairly certain, whatever it is, has long since left him. Nowadays he’s mostly bared teeth and vengeance more than anything.  

“Please, go right ahead. If you would not protest, I would very much like to join you. I’ll whittle, stay quiet so you can focus. Would that be alright?” He tilts his head to the side, and, with the way he’s fiddling with a jar, seems so incredibly bear-like in the moment that Astarion has to clamp down on a giggle.

“… Alright. But you had better keep that promise to stay quiet.” Halsin grins, a warm, blinding thing. 

“As a mouse. And we druids are rather good at mimicking animals, you know.”

A laugh punches itself from Astarion’s throat as he heads back to his tent and settles on some pillows, his most recent thick tome open in his lap. 

It’s not long before Halsin is quietly announcing his presence, shuffling around to settle a few feet away, legs tucked up under him as he situates himself against the nearest surface- a stolen chest from one of the many towers they’d rummaged through. 

It’s easy to forget he’s there- or, no, it’s easy to simply exist in a space with him. Astarion doesn’t feel the need to perform or prove anything to him- after all, he’s basically seen him at his worst- and the silence is warm. Interrupted, every so often, by the methodical scrape of metal against wood, or the crisp flipping of a page. 

Before he can stop himself, Astarion’s fallen into another trance. This time blissfully devoid of any visions or memories. 

He wakes to an empty tent, but his book is neatly bookmarked and stowed beside his bedroll. He, himself had been carefully tucked under a pelt of some sort- a piece he knew was not from his own tent- and next to the book lay a small, intricately carved wooden star. On the back, a careful engraving:

little star, how you shine

It feels like a declaration. 

#if you couldnt tell im enamored with the idea of halsin carving lil trinkets for his bf #and astarion secretly loving them #very nascent (new word i learned from a commenter ily) romance #bg3 #astarion #halsin #halsin x astarion #halstarion #astarion ancunin #enjoy #no idea how long this is but oh well #happy halloween have gay people!! #tipsy scribbles #brublurbs

[reiinai]

“Widogast’s Nascent Nein-Sided Tower” or

Caleb Widogast in “101 Ways to Say I Love You without Fucking Saying it”

#caleb widogast #widogasts nascent nine-sided tower #critical role #critical role fan art #totally real screencaps yo #its about time I popped my piles of CR hyperfixation out there #go my pretties #well kinda pretties #caleb you’re pretty so that checks out #and so is your tower its so perfect it makes me cry every time #the mighty nein

[not-poignant]

it's wild to me that The Nascent Diplomat is so close to finishing

and while i know there'll be a new installment in a few months, it's just really really...weird because this story has been with me since May 2020 (i didn't realise it was a pandemic story but there you go)

i'm gonna miss Aethelwaters almost as much as Gwyn will

#the nascent diplomat #the vench are cool okay #as this story draws to an end #i realise i actually want the whole lone wolf series on my shelves too #i just want to see it all #and i want it all to have cool covers lmao

[astralwashboard]

Can’t stop thinking about how Caleb is like “I’m a worthless and terrible person and don’t deserve my friends” and then he’s like “and now I’m gonna use every single cell of my very big brain to remember things my friends love and give those things to them in a form of the safest, most comfortable and beautiful place they’ve ever seen that I’ve been thoroughly designing for a year because I love all of them so much”

#reclaimed post #caleb widogast #widogast's nascent nein-sided tower #cr c2 #critical role #cr spoilers

[alkhale]

I did a thing…

Summary:

“You know," Lyla flickers into existence beside you. "I think you've maybe, like, just maybe got your relationship with Miggy tagged wrong."

You laugh, pouring the HQ complimentary Spider-man patterned charms cereal into your bowl. "You mean I shouldn't think he's not a couple of bad jokes away from slamming me into a wall?"

"Well, yes, he might," Lyla looks up from the entire folder of visual evidence of a certain Spider-man looking at and acting toward you in a number of questionable ways. You'd already started making your escape out the other door, Lyla's visuals leading her to where a familiar, hulking form of muscle and unresolved stress was now making his way dangerously toward you.

"But maybe just like," Lyla offers. "With different context?"

Or;

You've got your relationship with Miguel O'hara tagged under a pretty solidified set of words: boss, sorta friends, guy who's someone you can trust when it really comes down to it, and also the person who also seems the closest to ripping your head off.

Under the sharp eyes of one particular AI, however, her archives might beg to differ.

And it might not just be your head he wants to rip off.

Please check it out if you’d like 🥹🙇‍♀️

#miguel o'hara #reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #fanfic #writing about super heroes makes me think about nascent #and how I wanna finish that one too 😭 #I promise I’m updating other stuff too #I just #i done did it again #the brain rot is real #spider man 2099

[kenobihater]

apparently if you pressure astarion into sex after his confession in act 2 he'll straight up dump you, which makes me happy to hear because he's developing his boundaries and relearning self worth. it's a hard scene to watch (and one i could never bring myself to play through personally), but i'm really glad the developers included it bc your actions should have consequences and you shouldn't be able to treat the characters like shit and have them still fawn over you. also, he says THIS in response to tav saying that he seemed to be enjoying himself, and i don't think he could get more explicitly ace unless he had a big blinking neon sign on his forehead that read ACESPEC

#len speaks #astarion #bg3 #like i understand not everyone gets this dialogue (i sure didn't) but it feels bad to ignore his plainly stated identity tbh!! #idk. i'm very nascent in my gray ace identity but its not nice to see people straight up ignore his identity for their own gratification and #pleasure (like the drow scene tbh. not a fan of that) #like at the end of the day its a video game and he's fictional and you can do whatever you want forever but his asexuality means a lot to me #and ik i'm not alone in that. so i think allo ppl should be aware and respectful of that and at the LEAST not spew aphobia or anything #like the bar is in hell but it's still not being cleared. thankfully i havent seen very much of that at all firsthand but i do not trust #this website to be normal abt characters like him lol

[castiel-013]

don't even know how many hours I put into this but I sketched it in August, wanted to create a view of what Molly's room in the tower might have looked like

best viewed with screen brightness turned up! and click the picture for better quality

closeups down below

#feel like I could have added more details and I might #but I have other art projects #just. imagine caleb leading him into this room #:) #the mighty nein #critical role art #widogasts nascent nein sided tower #I think there is a room for Molly/Kingsley in there even if its not used much #mollymauk tealeaf #critical role fanart #my art

[benoitblanc]

look fox mulder has never done anything wrong in his life. i am aware of this. i am a big mulder apologist. HOWEVER i truly would not have blamed scully if she had just killed him after the "i was thinking of getting an 'ny' tattooed on my ass" comment in never again. like HUH?!?!?!?

#I ACTUALLY GASPED AT MY SCREEN. MULDER *WHAT* #that went STRAIGHT from nascent thought to his mouth he did NOT think that one through #that might be the worst thing he says in the entire episode and he's got some zingers #arwen.text #txf liveblog

[alliswyattonthewesternfront]

watched Poor Things today, and all i can say is thank god. the autistic-coded protag is all well and good, but it's high time we had a homeschool-coded heroine. finally, it's my turn.

that movie is for the bitches that ate salt-dough maps of ancient Egypt and learned math using Cuisenaire blocks. the rest of you just will not get it.

#it's also about a regular day in the life of willem defoe #but mostly it's about being homeschooled your whole life and then leaving the nest #and having to navigate the world with nascent social skills and wildly unbalanced areas of knowledge #there are tens of us! tens! #poor things

[vitorboynard]

Vendo Apartamento no Condomínio Spazio Molinere - Apartamento com 51m2, oitavo andar, de frente para linha verde, composto por: - 2 quartos com moveis planejado - 1 banheiro com porcelanato, pia esculpida e blindex (Ventilação natural, não é exaustor) - Varanda com porcelanato e janela versatik 3 folhas (Blindex) - Sala em 2 ambiente com planejados - Cozinha com móveis planejados e porcelanato - Área de serviço com divisória em blindex - 1 Vaga de garagem. Localização: Rua Sidney Vasconcelos Aguiar, 705 / Bairro da Glória O condomínio disponibiliza piscina, churrasqueira, salão de festa, academia, área recreação, segurança 24hs, e uma ótima localização, fica em frente ao novo Hospital da Unimed, próximo a faculdade, shopping plaza, praia dos cavaleiros, burger king, etc... #vendadeimoveis #luxoacessivel #moveisplanejados #localizacaoprivilegiada #nascente #andaralto #gloriamacae #spaziomolinere #confortoecomodidade #areanobre #qualidadedevida #viverben #esporte #vidasaudavel #pessoasexigentes #atendimentoexclusivo #macaerj #oportunidade #investimento #empresariosrj #financiamentobamcario #fgts #mercadoimobiliario #macaeimoveis #vitorboynardcorretordeimoveis #corretorvitorboynard #boynardmacaeimoveis # (em Spazio Molinere Mrv Engenharia) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cfq--dpuML_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#vendadeimoveis #luxoacessivel #moveisplanejados #localizacaoprivilegiada #nascente #andaralto #gloriamacae #spaziomolinere #confortoecomodidade #areanobre #qualidadedevida #viverben #esporte #vidasaudavel #pessoasexigentes #atendimentoexclusivo #macaerj #oportunidade #investimento #empresariosrj #financiamentobamcario #fgts #mercadoimobiliario #macaeimoveis #vitorboynardcorretordeimoveis #corretorvitorboynard #boynardmacaeimoveis

[beevean]

friendly reminder that hector castlevania is the protagonist of all time

#castlevania #akumajou dracula #curse of darkness #yes i've just discovered new moves with the guitar #this game is so fun lmao #he looks so serious and he plays so badly his enemies don't even know what to do lmao #it's okay. i support a nascent rockstar <3

[autisticandroids]

the thing about the angels is. well. they all killed each other because they were in a cult. like. their authoritarian structure disintegrated. and they had nothing to replace it with. and no way of resolving conflicts without violence. like they had no framework for choice because all they do is follow orders, you know? and they don't really have time to integrate it and adapt before they wipe themselves out.

#spn #their one chance fell apart in 9x22 #because cas was too busy being in dean's cult to keep dean from wrecking nascent angel democracy #and like. to be fair. hannah using her angel conflict resolution skills to decide that cas needed to KILL dean for it #that wasn't great either. but cas could have simply told dean to fuck off before the issue even arose #but he did not because unlike the other angels at that time. he WAS still in a cult

[not-poignant]

April 2024 - Update Schedule

April chapter update schedule:

(Tier+ = This tier or any higher, as every higher tier accesses all rewards in lower cost tiers)

-

Tuesday 2nd - Constellations 05/08(AO3 & Patreon + Ream - Gary&Efnisien Tier+)

Thursday 4th - Underline the Black 85

Sunday 7th - A Stain that Won't Dissolve 35

Tuesday 9th - Birthday Spotlight: Caleb Crawford

Sunday 14th - Underline the Gold 07/08 (AO3 & Patreon + Ream - Augus&Gwyn Tier+)

Wednesday 17th - Birthday Spotlight: Ohlo Ohlo Temsen

Thursday 18th - Underline the Black 86

Thursday 18th - Birthday Spotlight: Crielle ferch Fnwy

Sunday 21st - A Stain that Won't Dissolve 36

Sunday 21st - Birthday Spotlight - Janusz Bodanowicz

Tuesday 23rd - The Nascent Diplomat 43/44 (AO3 & Patreon + Ream - Augus&Gwyn Tier+)

Thursday 25th - Underline the Black 87

Sunday 28th - Underline the Gold 08/09 (AO3 & Patreon + Ream - Augus&Gwyn Tier+)

-

We're switching to Underline the Gold for the next two months and I'm super excited about it! It's time to see how Flitmouse and Anton are holding up, and how the early stages of their relationship is continuing.

The Sunday-to-Sunday break continues. During this time I catch up on writing, editing, comments, and anything else that needs doing.

~

Stories with updates as yet undetermined: Palmarosa (Apologies to my Palmarosa peeps! I have wanted to work on this story so badly, but the new Stardew Valley update has eaten my entire life lol)

Most chapters go up between 6-7pm GMT+8 (or the time that you’re already used to me putting chapters up, lol). For those who are anxious to know when chapters are updating, hopefully this helps! If there’s ever an emergency, or a scheduling issue (like a surprise family dinner) I generally put up stories a day early and not late.

#housekeeping #not_poignant #thespectaclesofthor #fae tales #fae tales au #palmarosa #a stain that won't dissolve #mm romance #queer romance #underline the rainbow #underline the gold #underline the black #the nascent diplomat #the last chapter of nascent diplomat goes up on subscription this month! #it really is the end of an era O.o

[rebelliousdandy]

lil sneak peak update on a commission for the bestie (＞人＜;)

#jester #jester lavorre #sprinkle #critical role sprinkle #critical role jester #laura bailey #frumpkin #the fey king #critical role #crit role #campaign 2 #the mighty nein #tiefling #luxon beacon #widogast’s nascent nein-sided tower #dnd #dungeons and dragons #commission #rebelliousdandy