ite domum saturae uenit Hesperus ite capellae

azure || they/them || ao3 debellocivili writing can be found under the tag #eclogues meta/analysis can be found under the tag #idyllique i follow and like from @romanconcrete

[debellocivili]

pinned

azure || they/them || obsessed with silksong atm 👍 ao3 debellocivili || main is @romanconcrete requests are open if you have a scenario or a ship or just a character + you'd like me to write a short snippet

tag directory

#eqlogues - writing

#idyllique - meta

#a jpeg is a weapon you can use to deal emotional damage - collages/memes (mostly silly)

[the-grays-of-ink]

Teeeeeny tiny moss grotto color study. 2x3in!

[cd7173]

helpless

[debellocivili]

It's an awfully large building for three people.

In a way, the Chapel Maid is almost perversely grateful to the moss bugs who've taken over its central hall, and cut her off from the rest of the cavern. This way she has less to clean.

She doesn't make much mess. Her uncle used to, but he's found a place elsewhere to make his messes in. Her brother never did. Used to make a lot of noise, send his querelling and complaining echoing merrily, bouncing off the hard stone arches. Her footsteps—interspersed with the sure, steady thump of her cane—fill the space now.

She makes her rounds, broom in hand, sweeping away the sand which cascades from above and accumulates in the masonry cracks. There’s a small group of pilgrims from the shanty town next door who wait, eagerly, for treasure to rain down, but that’s a fool’s dream. She makes a point not to linger on those, and focuses herself instead on the practicalities of maintaining her chapel. It’s where she draws her name; if it can’t be full, it may as well be clean.

Another piece of the roof came off. 

It’s gone down in a corner, and taken most of the wall with it, collapsing on top of a set of living ashes she’d prepared for a spell. A second, she spares, to mourn the decaying structure, before moving onto more productive annoyances; she has to think what she’ll do to replenish her stock. It’s not often that pilgrims come by—the graveyard scares them off, a poor omen—but there’ll be a curious spirit eventually. She need only be patient.

She’ll move what rubble she can, and nevermind the heavier segments, which will have to lie there silent. It’s not like she’s wanting for space.

also on ao3

[helloanthy]

23.06.2025 🔴 today's anthy!

untitled

[helloanthy]

i struggled with captioning this and decided to just say ''untitled'' bc i rly didnt kno what to say abt it in the end but im glad there r others who saw and understood anyways :+) and with the purview of the tags to help with articulating ... shoutout

[peachebo]

Still Life Herrah

[frenchifries]

she's so normal i love her

[mir-koko]

i find drawing uraraka so damn difficult mannn

[debellocivili]

(panel from bnha, chapter 2)

[dendriticheep]

🍡 🍡

[bellflowermini]

the craws are so intriguingly sophisticated

[arnaerr]

''...one who welcomed a decisive end in combat over a slow decline'' 2hrs speedpaint ✦ prints ✦ patreon

[debellocivili]

in bnha people definitely put their quirks in social media bios and there must be so much rancid discourse about this.

[yugiohz]

abandoned collection of panels of dabi and hawks being foils

[helloanthy]

11.04.2025 🌱 today's anthy!

iv been sitting here for 10 mns trying to think of a proper caption 🙂 ...

[ratatosk777]

another somewhat old thing. pavo, I missed you... the puppy....

[debellocivili]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Lace’s chamber in the Cradle is cold and empty. A bed of flowers, she decides, is called for, and these broken vents, once fixed, will provide much needed warmth.

...

behold: my very first hollow knight fic :3 it's a pre-canon exploration of lace trying to navigate existing in the citadel, and having normal feelings about flowers which refuse to grow beautifully and the concept of being alive.