e04kj0125 @e04kj0125 - Tumblr Blog

Albedo in nefer's fit because I have free will

some of my thoughts on yin yang sundering (TRUST ME THERE ARE MANY AND THEY ARE LONG) —

cw: spoilers to caleb's new myth and their dynamic in that myth (shared origin, siblings)

first, the cycle of guilt and pain caleb was doomed to continue repeating. i kept asking myself, why did caleb sacrifice himself in ch.9 when it’s almost a direct repeat of what happened the first time, when he first created the nether realm, taking mc’s place.

he was caught in a cycle where he’d do what he thought was right to protect his beloved sister, but then he had to live with the guilt of the consequences that it had on mc.

her turning into the very thing he wanted to keep away from her. a vengeful, blood-thirsty ghost. the constant ache and hollowness her hunger left her with (a hunger that stemmed from her unable to fulfill her full duties as the chosen lord of the nether realm—because caleb took that role), and subsequently, viewing herself as a monster

and this cycle would start and end with his death. all so she could survive, in a world he kept alive just for her

her hunger itself even turned into an endless cycle where she took and took from caleb, the lotus pond he built for her, needing him to find and feed her souls, cultivating with her. and he willingly, happily, gave her everything, but it doesn’t change the fact that she survived off of him.

even when they enter mt. dingxu, caleb has to LITERALLY give mc breath. the yin energy is eating away at the yang energy. its not sustainable

and so it really made me think, why would caleb do this? he’s smarter than that. why would he repeat an almost identical solution that would be temporary?

#this is so beautiful #sobbing #lads #lads caleb #yin and yang sundering

Tw possible spoilers I still have not caught up to recent updates in lads, but from what I have been seeing in Caleb's myth card it is integral for mc and Caleb to have some sort of familial bond? I am unsure I will need to catch up, but if so, I am sort of screwed on how to make my mc and Caleb work. Since she is not like the game mc at all

#rants #lads #caleb lads

angelesca

top 5 worst truck driver sunday moments oat ᕦ(ಥ_ಥ)ᕤ

e04kj0125

HEEELP WHAT IS THIS

PREGNANT SUNDAY?! PLEASEEEE

coming back from the void with this idea. Regency era au and Caleb is a new eligible suitor on the market, he is drawn to spinster!mc Spinster!mc is not impressed by the young man trailing after her.

#lads #lads caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #caleb x y/n #lnds caleb #caleb lads #add your ideas in pleaseee #i love to read what others cook up

mayplekiw-got-flagged-and-purged

Isekai/SAGAU!Pantalone-centric fic

Self Indulgence: A Isekai/SAGAU x Reader [Long fic] Side story - can be read as a standalone snippets fic

Links to main story in Masterlist/Pinned

Creator!Readers' influence on the world has always been felt, whether its their direct engagement to the world or what they've left behind for accolades to ponder.

Pantalone goes through life in Teyvat rather blissfully nowadays... being in this position is secure- even with the other Harbingers grating on his very last nerve. Even so, he seems to recall a few instances that seem to lead to suggesting to him that the Creator's presence will always be there, even when it is not there for him.

ami0amii

hi i'm an artist and i do pastel art. how do you color dark skinned characters in pastel art without whitewashing them?

i get asked this a lot by many artists and i totally get it

The first thing to note down is that coloring dark skinned in a pastel way is NOT about lighting their skin but rather about lowering the saturation in their skin tone.

what i mean by this is to focus less on skin tone and more of how piercing the color is. pastel are is soft and carries a fragile color scheme. many artists who don’t know how to color dark skin usually make the mistake of coloring their characters like this:

DO NOT DO THIS^^

artists coloring dark skin like this in pastel art is the primary reason why the myth of “you can’t color dark skin in pastel art” still lies around. The problem with these color scheme above is that this happens due to the artist focusing on the fact that dark skin is brown rather than trying to put effort into getting the skin tone to fit the color scheme. The color in these drawing have skin tones that down match the scheme at all and stands out too much hence the easy way out to this problem for these artist is

W H I T E W A S H I N G ~

PLEASE DO NOT DO THIS WHEN DRAWING A DARK SKINNED CHARACTER!!!

Rather than whitewashing them, the solution to this problem is to lower the saturation of the skin tone to fit the scheme

GO FROM THIS:

TO THIS:

^This fits the scheme so much more better because there character is clearly brown without their skintone being saturated to the point of hurting your eyes

M o r e E x a m p l e s ~

from the colors i used on the skin tone of these two pieces the colors are around the same range of darkness

The only difference is that one is more saturated than another

Welp those are all my tips for coloring darkskin for pastel arthope this was helpful :’0

note-boat

I don’t get these examples at all

Like yeah the color could be different but it wasnt so wildly off

And the Lance and Hamilton examples? Where clearly using a tranparent brush. Like at least use decent examples

Because I don’t disagree that whitewashing os a problem, but you could make people real self conscious about making fucking art

Also forgetting to mention people woth darker skin tones have areas where their skin gradiates into a lighter tone, sometimes very light such as people from latino and african american decent

These areas include the palm on their hands(including back of fingers), under the feet, and sometimes underarm (i have that but its probably a tan). I don’t know any other areas but it’s important not to make the skin look just plain brown, but add the undertone

Ex.

ami0amii

“the color could be different but it wasnt so wildly off”

umm, the colors were wildly off with the examples that i used

you’re forgetting the fact that this is pastel art. in pastel art the colors that are used when applied are under a setting where the colors agree with each other

the piece carries a bright pink/lavender theme of colors. the issue with the piece on the left is that the character’s skin tone completely contradicts the theme. it’s out of place, and way to saturated than all of the colors in that piece.

“Where clearly using a tranparent brush. Like at least use decent examples”

You did almost have a good point with the transparent brushes but with further thinking your point falls flat. Transparent brushes isn’t an excuse for whitewashing. the problem with your point is that you associate transparency = lighter, which is true to come extent but not in the way you interpret it in.

you’re point is that the artist was coloring their black character with a transparent brown color. When you color transparently with the color brown, it doesn’t get lighter, it gets more dull. The saturation in the color decreases, which literally goes with my point on my original post. “lower the saturation of a character’s skin tone when doing pastel art”

like for example^ these are the same color but one is transparent. notice how the transparent color is just less saturated

“Because I don’t disagree that whitewashing os a problem, but you could make people real self conscious about making fucking art”

Ummm….yikes

giving a tutorial on how to color dark skin in pastel art without whitewashing shouldn’t result into an artist feeling self conscious about their art.

whitewashing does more self esteem damage to dark skin people than it does to call it out an bring out awareness on how to fix it~

“ Also forgetting to mention people woth darker skin tones have areas where their skin gradiates into a lighter tone, sometimes very light such as people from latino and african american decent “

That doesn’t really change anything about my point like……at all

that also wasn’t a convenient time to point that out considering that in all of my art, i make my character’s palm lighter.

like in these pieces:

the reason why i did not do this for my example is because these are simply just examples, my primary focus is dark skin tone

#pastel theme #art tutorial #tutorial #dark skintone #pastel

okaneez

how i make dark skin fit pastel color schemes nicely without whitewashing (don't let them tell you it's impossible) -- a color picking tutorial for digital illustrations

by no means a comprehensive guide. nor can i speak on this topic as anything other than someone with art knowledge. but this is what i've found works

e04kj0125

thank you so much I will try to use this soon!

#tutorial #art #pastel theme #pastel

Art help

Hello I came back after 100 years to ask for art help. I find myself in a bit of a pickle, I am trying to make a pastel themed illustration with desaturated and light colors. The issue that I have is that the character is dark skinnned with dark hair and I unintentioanlly end up giving them a lighter skintone, the hair included. I do not know how to fix this and any tips or art tutorial would be appreciated! For reference when I mean pastel, something like this? https://x.com/redyajasu/status/2002711907657220592?s=20

#art #digital art #clip studio paint #clip studio art #art wip #artists on tumblr #digital painting #illustrators on tumblr #anime art #painting #color palette #color theory #pastel #pastel theme #art study

joy99x

୨୧Veil of Feathers

yandere!columbina x gn!reader

tw!! dead dove, sagau? columbina is alone for a reason fr, unreliable narrator, unusual relationship dynamics, metaphorical dehumanization, light possessiveness, obsession, stalker behavior, pretending pigeons r real people? cute when its not u, ambiguous age dynamics (reader is NOT a minor but still), mentioned grooming, pulcinella mentioned but he is WAY WORSE than canon, unclear boundaries

edit: good lord this fic was a MESS!! So sorry for those who read it before, I tried my best to fix it up and I'm gonna properly check it again tmrw. English is SO not my first language and I was out of adhd meds.. Also, the reader is gender neutral but a veil is mentioned for them. Ty!

The pigeons coo like soft clocks in her rafters.

She calls them her choir, but they do not sing on command. That makes them beautiful—and her, melancholic. After all, the real ones never look at her. Even when she brings cakes sweet enough to melt suspicion, Childe still eats with his recruits, Signora finds a reason to leave the room with her hair swaying and heels echoing. Pantalone, never breaking composure, tilts his chair so he faces the wall more than he faces her.

She hums anyway. She sets down sugar, honey, candied fruits near impossible to find in Snezhnaya—and collects silence in return. Silence, and the feeling of being excused from humanity.

So, every morning, she unlocks the cages one by one.

And speaks to each one by name.

She starts with practicing introductions they won't avoid.

“Good morning,” she tells the tall white pigeon with regal heft and the wedge of burning pride in her chest. “Rosalyne.” The bird preens with imperial boredom, neck ringing faintly with a bell-white tag. It does not come close. They never do.

“Good evening,” she tells the black-stripe bird who stands like a sword in a scabbard. “Father Pierro.” This one she bows to. Sometimes, at night, she hums the old Khaenria'ahn funeral hymn. The one with tunes that can't be sung. And sometimes, the cage is empty at dawn, the seed untouched, and the snow on the rail is disturbed in a way that makes her think: ah. Busy.

“Good night,” to the restless bar of smoke pacing end to end—Scaramouche pigeon, who cannot be contained by small metal squares, who knocks his seed tray twice and glares with the kind of satisfaction that looks exactly like desperation.

“No aggression tonight,” Columbina murmurs, teasing.

The pigeon flicks a wing and tries to poke at his chest in his reflection in the water dish, trying to check for something that was never placed. She loves it for trying.

''Capitano... will you catch me too if I fall?'' she says to stillness itself. Her Capitano pigeon never sings. Just sits. Still. Unmoving. Like his feathers are shaped from stone and grief and years. When he eats, he chews slowly, as though swallowing burdens. She always salutes him.

Pantalone pigeon was caught once stealing the glimmering glass bead off her necklace. She laughed so sweetly the other pigeons froze. Now, he wears a tiny velvet cravat. She says, “You always want. But you never ask.”

She still brings him worms. Still doesn’t expect him to change.

Sometimes she sings, sometimes she scolds them.

One of them being Dottore pigeon, who always sneaks and picks at others. Only once did she pluck out one of his tail feathers, stare into his beady eye, and murmur, “If you hurt Signora again, I’ll feed you to the snow.”

But she always repeats the same sentence.

''No fighting. You are all siblings. Even if no one says it out loud.''

She remembered the kiss.

It wasn’t about you, not at first.

It was about Pulcinella. Whose pigeon was old, cloudy-eyed and only used to coo before and not anymore. It was about the way his gaze clung to Childe, year after year, like frost that would not melt.

Lust is a burning thing. What she felt was colder, narrower, a bird-peck question: What do you call the ache that makes Pulcinella orbit that boy?

She asked Pulcinella pigeon once, he only blinked.

She thought—maybe if she kissed someone soft, someone like you, she would understand why a soul would risk the Creator’s wrath. Why it would wither and warp for the sake of a boy who puts him on the same pedestal as his father.

What makes Pulcinella look like a man staring through a window in his own funeral?

Columbina doesn't understand categories like parent, ward, warden or mentor. You are not a child but you are soft like one—something that only belongs to the lullaby of a music box, the kind soldiers give to their children before marching to be buried under snow.

She doesn't know what that makes you.

You smiled and smelled like kindness and old blood, and when Columbina kissed you—just once, feather-light—you didn’t flinch.

A whisper of scolding, the smallest of scolds. Even though your eyes stayed shut, you did not make the room cruel.

Two months.

Columbina did not sleep. She rested—perched.

Then silence. Not empty silence. Punishment silence, the kind that wedges the days apart so the light looks thin and sour. Two months of you not speaking to her, from kindness to carefulness to corridor-gone. Two months where Columbina fed the pink pigeon extra seeds because the real one would not come to the balcony. Two months of practicing apologies to a bird who only cocked their head and sang about nothing.

She sang to your pigeon and whispered secrets to Pierro pigeon (he always listened).

She kissed Scaramouche pigeon's head when he tried to escape from the cage again and told him he's only angry because no one had kissed him today. She made paper rings and fitted them to your pigeon's feet like little engagement bands.

She told Arlecchino pigeon to smile more. She stared at her. Columbina stared back. Neither blinked.

But still…

Where were you?

Columbina did not send her pigeons after you. That felt like a hunt and she is no hunter. She stood sometimes at the mouth of an abandoned hall and let her humming go first, small and slow and creeping, a peace offering that could be ignored or be cherished. She tucked her hands behind her back the way children do when they are trying not to break anything.

Oh joy, oh joy when the footsteps finally came up the iron steps and the door pushed open with you stepping in, a paper packet crinkling in your hands.

“For your friends,” sweet you had said.

Seeds. Cheap. Cheerful.

Columbina could not look at your face, so she stared at your shoes—the polish scuffed at the toes, the little nick on the heel—and she let the joy shake her wrists until the bells sang a little.

“You came.” she said, which meant: you did not disappear. Which meant: I am still allowed to be a person near you.

“I came.” you smiled (you can hear a smile; it shortens the ends of words), and poured the seeds into Columbina’s cupped hands like confetti at a wedding.

She doesn't understand love the way mortals do, too. She understands hunger, loneliness and sound. She understands the way little creatures scream when you hold them too tight. She understands marriage from women and men who touch their rings when she's alone with them and the room gets a little too dark.

Marriage. The vow of the vows, a promise you will not forget them—not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

She made a veil for the pigeon that night. A strip of gauze from an old bandage, rinsed and dried and cut thin with sewing scissors, stitched with a line of sugar beads stolen from a soldier’s window. She fixed it to your pigeon's head and the bird blinked slowly and did not shake it free.

“There,” Columbina whispered, sitting on the cold stone and letting the dark come up her legs like a tide. “You look married. You look chosen.”

Down in the yard a pair of recruits made a joke about her. They always do. The joke bounced off the walls and came up flattened. She did not keep it. She has learned to drop bad eggs before they hatch.

Although, she still worries she will be uninvited from the world. It is not a dramatic fear; it is a practical one, she imagines it would be the fear of running out of bread for you. Wise Pierro speaks to her softly when he must, and she keeps that softness pressed to her heart. Sweet you brings seeds and does not look her in the eyes and tells her—like a mother to a stubborn child—no more kisses.

That is all right. She can be obedient.

Friendship is a thing with a thousand doors; she will find the ones that open without setting off alarms.

The clock ticks, and beyond the parapet the snow takes the city by the throat and squeezes it quiet while Columbina continues practicing introductions to the dark.

“Good morning, (name).” she says to the veiled pigeon. “Will you braid my hair? No, that is too much. Will you stay until the song ends?”

She tries again. “Good evening, (name). I brought you a—no—seeds. Seeds are better. That's for promises and we are not promising. We are… rehearsing.”

She tries a third time. “Good night, (name). Thank you for not being afraid of me.”

The pigeon trills. In the hallway, someone rushes to a late night meeting, bright and impatient; somewhere far below and far away, someone breaks the quiet of the city by whistling an old hymn to the Creator and leaves the last note unfinished, the human way of asking for something.

Columbina closes it herself. She is very good at endings; she knows how to make them sound like lullabies. She tucks the little veil askew so the pigeon does not peck it.

If you visit tomorrow, she will clap quietly with her hands in front of her lips. If not, she will teach herself a new way to say hello and practice on her birds until the sky turns blue to pink to orange to indigo to blue.

The bells on the cages make their tiny choir. She counts the inhales between them. She thinks of pulsing hearts, and rules, and the architecture of gentle things. She thinks of rehearsal as prayer, and prayer as the only language that never requires her to look anyone in the eye.

“Good night,” she tells them all. “Be good, even when you are not.”

The birds settle. The veil slips. The cold sinks. She hums until the humming is part of the room, and then she rests her cheek against the bars and lets the quiet answer back.

e04kj0125

oh my godd this was so good!!!

#columbina #genshin x reader #columbina x reader #sagau

sha-n-dowbannedlol

Phainon — Meant to Be Yours

cw: royal knight!phainon au, fem!princess!reader, violence but not very detailed, usual shan stuff lol

went into amphoreus not caring about anyone, went out loving the cute golden retriever man. also, i've been hyperfixated on epic the musical lately, so i may or may not have been inspired by odysseus in the ithaca saga for some parts here lol

In the whispering winds of fate, it was always said karma had a way of catching up with you—silent, inevitable, like shadow hot on your heels. In a world that spins in circles, our deeds reverberate and circle back, a reminder that what goes around comes around.

So, it was never a surprise, not really, when your father—the king, draped in the shadows of corruption and tyranny—was torn from his throne in a storm of blood and fury, undone by the very hands he once crushed beneath his own. The storm of revolution, fueled by the flames of injustice and the cries of the downtrodden, descended upon the castle walls like a vengeful deity, casting the king from his lofty throne into the harsh reality of his own making.

In the unforgiving tides of change, the pendulum of justice swung without regard for innocence or guilt, and revolution—in all its fury—can easily blind you with its smoke. You never stood by your father’s cruelty; every protest smothered beneath his iron will, your voice swallowed beneath the weight of his crown. Yet, to the eyes of the enraged masses, you bore his blood, wore his sins like a second skin.

And so, you too, must burn.

But he wouldn't let them.

Your escape dissolved into a blur in your mind; Screams tearing through the air, a sea of crimson rage, and his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. In the other, his sword sang death, striking down anyone who dared raise a hand against his liege. His white hair caught the glow of the mobs' torches, almost golden in their flickering light. His blue eyes, usually so gentle, were now steel-cold with purpose. His once-pristine armor streaked with blood, icy to the touch, but his hand... his hand wrapped around yours is....

Warm.

e04kj0125

heck yeah this rocks

#phainon #phainon x reader #hsr #knight phainon is chef's kiss

vyyper-deactivated20250921

sugar-sweet smile

(or, sunday and his culinary troubles.)

genre: fluff, wc: 1.6k (...more than intended coughs can you tell i love him)

lace banners by @strangergraphics !

sunday doesn't know how to cook.

being raised in the environment that he was, it was never seen as needed by his adoptive father. being raised to take such a powerful position, with all the oak family's wealth and power, why would it ever be necessary? for most of his life, he had chefs prepare his meals. he'd eat them gratefully, and enjoy the flavors. of course, none of them could ever compare to your cooking.

his own, though? it leaves...much to be desired. he remembers the one time he tried something other than sandwiches, trying a filling and delicious seeming recipe to help get you up on your feet after being so sick for a while. unfortunately, something didn't go quite right. when he had lovingly handed you a tray in bed with a warm mug and a sandwich paired together, he watched your expression twist in displeasure at the taste. he felt awful, you having the taste of sickness in your mouth for so long, only to keep having unpleasant sensations invading your mouth.

e04kj0125

this was so sweet and adorable i am sobbing

#hsr #sunday #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #sweet as hell

phainonzine

☀️COMING SOON☀️

Journey into the memories and untold stories of the Deliverer, Phainon, in Ilios: A Phainon Zine.

🗓️Interest Check will open April 28

Info doc:

☀️ILIOS: A Phainon Zine🌙 [email protected] The purpose of this document is to compile all information for any interested parties. ✦ AB

RTs appreciated 🫶 @anizines @zine-scene @zinesubmissions @zineapps @atozines

ensignrainy

hc that sunday really likes bathing. reasoning? i think bathing birds are really cute

Friendly reminder that my commissions are open

#hsr #sunday #bird sunday #hsr fanart

Do you guys think if Leander were to play the sims and made you and himself, would he giggle if the sims characters kiss? 😭

makes me wonder how the others would be like when playing the sims and what they would do lmao

#touchstarved game #touchstarved leander #leander x mc #ts leander

akichiart

An equal exchange to thanatos

riyangiis

anaxagoras shuts you up by kissing you.

he would often walk away or just blatantly tell another idiot spitting out nonsense to shut up, but his lover is a different case.

he loves your voice, he admits. even before your relationship he would often stare at your lips as you tell him about your day, getting lost in the thought of holding you softly and kissing you.

he would still listen to everything you would say to him, even if it's something like castorice joining an arm wrestling competition and mydei being her opponent.

anaxa kisses you in the middle of your scolding whenever you get angry at him for forgetting to take care of himself because of his work, he knows it helps you calm down.

he listens to your advice though, he wouldn't want to put a frown on his own lover's face. but he wouldn't admit that sometimes, he forgets to take care of himself or overwork on purpose to have an excuse to kiss you again.

you notice his behavior, he isn't the type to forget what you told him, especially when it's important, and it infuriates you. being the caring lover you are, you thought of an idea that would make him stop.

one night, you walked in his office without knocking and told him something that would absolutely change his entire behavior.

"if you take care of yourself properly, i'll let you have all the kisses you want the entire night. if you don't and overwork yourself, no kisses or no hugs for the entire day."

anaxa stares at you with widened eyes, surprised that you noticed, ironically with unfinished work and unchecked assignments in front of him sitting on his desk.

he opens his mouth to say something back, but then relaxes noticing the worried look on your face, also remembering the reward of finishing his work right now. he currently doesn't want to see the idiocy of his students when he has a whole night to shower his lover with affection waiting for him.

"is that so? then shall we start now?" anaxa asks.

from that day on, he never overworked himself again.

e04kj0125

summoning my homie @angelesca

#anaxagoras #anaxagoras x reader #hsr

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