tired

i hate ai sideblog does dark souls tumblr even exist

[jensmer]

souls protagonist body (?) opinions GO!! ft. ds1, 2, 3, bb, er protagonists

—

i think the chosen undead has the stockier build, he's shortest out of all of them and has the smallest waist. he keeps his hair short because i say so. i'm also envisioning ballet dancers and their really strong calves for whatever reason.. he just gives me that feel.. ballet dancer chosen undead it is ☑️ i also think he has a few gnarly scars on his back. not elaborating here...

bearer of the curse is tall and the burliest...... BIG shoulders. BIG arms. BIG thighs. pecs 🤤🤤🤤. the whole package. like he's gonna post himself chopping wood on drangleictok for all the 40 y/o firekeepers! he has a rounder face and i think he keeps his hair on the shorter side like the chosen undead.

ashen one is on the taller side and has what the kids these days call a sleeper build. he has sad and forlorn eyes, he's a bit soggy if i do say so myself?!?!?! doesn't really bother with his hair so it's shaggy and longer. he also has a small waist but not as small as the chosen undead. his feet are the smallest.

the hunter is the tallest and lankiest. his muscle is just a bit defined, not overly. very angular face. his arms and legs are like.. juuuust slightly off. like just a bit too long and his teeth + nails are a bit sharper than normal. it's all that blood and insight he's taking.. he has longer hair like the ashen one too, he doesn't really do much besides keep it out of his face, however that looks.

the tarnished is similar to the chosen undead, not super tall and more stocky, with big muscular thighs because he's gripping torrent all the time. i think he has the daintiest looking hands out of this group. and he's a bit scruffy around his chin but he shaves it from time to time.

[jensmer]

i just started ds2 so ignore any inaccuracies!!!! had to write something for creighton...... love this guy.....

—

"Don't let him fool you."

Were the man's— Creighton's— words to you. Yet another thing to worry about in this strange land you'd ended up in; as if you didn't have enough worries already.

When you'd first found him, his posture had seemed tired, maybe defeated, but after you'd opened the door and talked to him, he'd slowly straightened up. It was less of a visible change, more a feeling you got from his words and tone of voice. He was rejuvenated again, enough to go off and kill a man, which was a bit concerning. That he'd be so renewed just at the thought of someone's death, at his hands no less, was somewhat scary, but...

Well. This "Pate" character seemed like he deserved it, so you'd pretend you didn't hear any of what he'd said and let Creighton bring the man to justice without meddling.

And despite all that, you still found yourself striking up a conversation with him of your own will. You were lonely, alright?

"How long ago did you come to Drangleic?"

Creighton seemed a bit surprised by your question, as surprised as someone could look when they had a mask covering their entire face besides their eyes.

"...few months ago."

Huh. For someone who was so chatty earlier, he sure seemed hesitant now. Or maybe he was just hesitant to divulge more information, which was understandable. You, however, weren't of the same mind. What did it matter if you talked about yourself to a guy who'd just confessed he wanted to kill someone?

"I basically just got here."

He huffed something close to a laugh, "I'd figured."

You looked down at your clothes, "It's that obvious, huh?"

"It's more than obvious. Can practically smell it on ya."

"Oh..." you turned your gaze back to the bonfire, a bit embarrassed but more blasé than anything. That was to be expected, with your lost memories and all.

As much as you were enjoying the brief respite, you could only rest at the bonfire so long. Your muscles ached a little as you got up, picking up your sword and dusting yourself off.

"Goodbye, then. I hope you find your guy, and... maybe we'll see each other again."

All you got in return was a grunt and a wave, but you weren't too miffed. Unfortunately you sucked up any interaction, however off-putting, because you were just that...

Okay. You didn't want to call yourself desperate. You really needed to raise your standards, even in a place like this.

—

Creighton stood as soon as your footsteps went beyond the range of his hearing and ducked out of his mini prison. In the distance, he could see your figure fading into the fog.

The poor, new little hollow. Naïve enough to believe him, naïve enough to try to converse with him, a total stranger— he was surprised you'd lasted a day. Maybe you were stronger than you looked, but... clearly not smarter.

How intriguing. Creighton found himself wanting to know more. You'd gotten this far despite everything, he was curious to see how much further you could get.

He wanted to find Pate, but something told him that following you would lead him there eventually. For now, he'd stick with you, making sure you were none the wiser.

[ngc7009]

he likes it.

[ngc7009]

yeah I love every single character from Elden ring so what

[ngc7009]

[jensmer]

that terrible feeling when a fanfic you’ve been invested in starts using that chatgpt way of speaking

[jensmer]

BOGGART ONE CHANCE PLEASE BOGGART

[jensmer]

boggart 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[jensmer]

BOGGART ONE CHANCE PLEASE BOGGART

[chatterskull]

Fs should let us tame the bosses. I want the lord of the night sleeping on a pillow in roundtable hold

[hjinnnkuo]

"Take care of my hat!"

[espyunes]

St Trina my eepy dear baby

[munlyth]

Felt-tip pens are fun..

[giddeus]

Rya the scout🦎

[saturnisaturnip]

I’ve been very low energy lately but Ranni is comforting to draw 🌕🌌

[keepheyya]

[rottedswans]

[jensmer]

leaving everything behind and living with diallos in jarburg……..saving that unfortunate soggy man…..guys i’m so sick and mad he had to die (well yes it’s fromsoft)

but imagine being a recusant in volcanor manor when diallos comes along and being assigned to help him learn the ways— he’s terrible at it, but he’s earnest. or maybe his earnestness comes from a place of confusion, sadness, loss of purpose… anyway, it’s not your job to ponder on this man’s psychology. you’re aware of the faction you’re both part of and you know feeling for another recusant will only end in tragedy.

it happens, regardless.

until he disappears out of the blue one day. sent somewhere to liurnia, only to never return. good, you think. his hands were too soft for him to even hope to be a proper recusant.

but as the days go by, you find yourself coming back to the manor after hunting, searching for that helpless-looking face in the corner. why? he was more nuisance than anything good. so unfit to be a recusant with the way he wore his heart so plainly on his sleeve. always stubbornly insisting he was strong enough to go hunting alone, claiming rather pompously “the tale of house hoslow is told in blood!” yet always coming back beat up and more often than not, unsuccessful. he would dejectedly slink to the infirmary (if you could even call the closet-like room filled with meagre supplies an infirmary) and attempt to bandage himself up, but it was clear he had no experience with it.

and, because looking at his horribly pathetic face made you sick, you’d help bandage his wounds. he always made a show of refusing help and saying he could do it fine, only to eventually relent and let you do it. his blush was bright red, embarrassment evident, but relief and gratefulness radiated off of him.

he was amusing and silly, if nothing else, and now he’d just… vanished. and unfortunately, he took up more space in your mind than you’d even realized, sneaking in there with his pitiful disposition and an odd innocence— as innocent as a grown man could be, you supposed.

that was why, when you undertook the job of hunting a man by the name of juno hoslow, it was more than you could bear. for some inconceivable reason, hearing that idiotic phrase from this man was the final straw.

“the tale of house hoslow is told in blood.”

and you turned your back on the manor, the only place you had ever felt something akin to acceptance, to find that weakling diallos. it was so ridiculous you could laugh.

of course he would be in a secluded little village filled with flowers and jars. at first some of the jars took you for an enemy, the little ones scurrying away while the larger ones hesitantly approached, seeming less aggressive than the ones you’d encountered on your travels. they stopped, though, at the call of your name from a voice you thought you’d never hear again.

there he was. diallos.

despite his face still boasting no scars, his hands still bearing no calluses— he looked more content and confident than you’d ever seen him.

and with every passing moment, you realized—probably with horror, or something—that more than anything, you wanted to keep him like that.