Yo, I'm Lillian. Currently into Arkanis and will mostly use this blog to post art and my occasional silly thoughts, either spur of the moment or intricately planned.
āØ Tags āØ
#LCDoodles - All of my art
#LCChats - Original text posts (non fandom)
#LCPosts - Posts with images and no additive text (used for Fit twt and insta updates and similar things)
#LCLive - Liveblogging while watching streams or shows
#LCFan - non live fandom posts
#LCoc posting - stuff about my ocs
#LCasks - ask tag
#LCScribbles - Writing tag
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I tag tws to the best of my ability, both on my posts and reblogs. Feel free to ask to tag on anything.
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My dumb beginners guide to tumblr I made. If you do nothing else PLEASE do step two and donāt allow tumblr to let AI train off your blog. Itās opt out not in. Steps on how to do that are in that post..
This is the art I am currently most proud of.
I've made a lot of art and designs for what I think the characters in the Mer au fic Life is like the ocean, it goes up and down. This here is a link to a master post of all those designs.
And this is my fic recommendations list! (it's almost entirely FitPac, gonna be honest, but they all slap if you want to give em a read. Also just wanted to promote my favorite fics, they deserve all the love. :D)
MC Sona and Art Sona art
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"EVERYONE BE KIND BE NICE BE PATIENT AND BE COURAGEOUS!!' 'food is better when shared among friends" -Richarlyson (QSMP) 30/4/24 (His one year birthday)
"It's going to be ok, but it's going to be different" || Qsmp
An unfinished Ramon goes to the Wastelands to find his dad fic. (Yes the title is from Drag Path by Twenty One Pilots).
I teased this fic a while back (like back in February and I teased the idea of it in the CTNB zine discord before that), and though I don't see myself returning to it, it'd be good to not have it collect dust in my Ellipsus account. The line separations are there because I work disjointedly and would've later connected the scenes.
Trigger Warning for blood and death in the final paragraph and tags. Fic starts under the read more.
Many Mondays had passed by the time he finds them. Preciously resting on top of a beat up chest which used to store their spoils from their adventures. They're scratched to all hell, cracks in the glass waiting to erupt at even the slightest point of pressure. The leather strap rough, stitching loose in some places while tight in others. There's a pattern on one side, in a dirty yellow thread out of uneven stitching; a circle with a small slice cut out as if it was an open mouth waiting to consume the ghosts which haunted its wearer. Of which he had many.
But they were his. They were his dad's. And they're one of the few pieces of his dad that he has left. One of the few marks on this world he had left.
His dad always made a point of not leaving a trail behind. For someone could very easily trace it back to you. "Leave no crumb behind" was a mantra he could practically recite before he could sing most of the simple songs that they sung at school. Despite that, he made an effort for his son, as he grew older, to plant some roots. Even if those roots were replanted elsewhere more times than he was comfortable with, he had done it for his son. For his safety.
One day, though, he'd vanished. Without a single word. Just a simple acknowledgement as he put his son to bed, a reminder that he'd see him at the beginning of the week. He'd suggested, without explicitly stating so, that he go spend the weekend with his Pai and brother. They'd not had a weekend as a trio in a long time, and he'd had some important pieces of work to deal with. He knew there was a risk of his dad not returning, that his boss would lord something else over his dad's head. Holding him hostage in his own contract despite having fulfilled what was required of him. His dad's boss was sneaky like that.
The weekend was fun despite that knowledge weighing him down. He'd spent half of it with his Pai and brother, doing nothing of importance, just living as the age they were. The pain they'd endured previously seemingly vanishing behind laughter and song for just a moment. That moment didn't last long before he was whisked away by his uncle, put to work tinkering with a new machine he'd made in hopes that the pair could get it functioning smoothly before making several to inhabit his uncle's home. They had finished for the night with only a few tweaks to fix and bolts to tighten, with him being sleepily guided to Sunny's second bed, suffocated in plushies and pillows.
He hadn't stayed over on Sunday night; anticipation skyrocketing as he waited to know what his dad had spent his time doing. If the terms of his deal had finally been deemed complete. If he could finally be free from it all.
When Monday arrived, and he had awoken to a thin layer of dust on his dad's still made up bed. Which couldn't really be deemed a bed as it was just a single pillow and duvet on the cold cobblestone floor, a remnant of his time before. He had all but sprinted to his Pai's house at the bottom of the hill, tripping over weeds and his own feet a few times. Without caring if he woke up those several blocks away, he'd rushed in, shaking his Pai awake before his emotions became overwhelming.
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Resting his head on his Pai's chest, he was comforted with coos and the feeling of his Pai's chest vibrating as he hummed a soft melody. It was one from before the big upheaval. From when he still lived in a slanting tower of stone. Words would not, could not, come out of his mouth no matter how hard he'd tried.
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The idea hits him one day when he's at the Town of Fobo for a week, giving his Pai and Richarlyson a reprieve from him and his almost manic stewing. He hadn't spent a night at the Shit Shack since that first Monday. It was too soon. There was never going to be a day that wasn't too soon for him to be emotionally ready.
If he, somehow, found a way to contact Cucurucho to find where his dad's final coordinates on the Island were, maybe he could find him. It was a stretch, and he knew that, but he'd try anything. His dad would do the same for him. He'd attempted to explain it to his Uncle Tubbo, he had prepared diagrams and red string connecting his ideas on a spare corkboard he'd found laying around, but he'd quickly realised that pursuing Tubbo's aid fruitless when he finished and saw Tubbo's apprehensive face. He had Sunny to think about after all, he was their only parent and couldn't risk it.
He pleaded his case to anyone that would listen, receiving the same pitying looks and excuses that he had started to become internally bitter, despite his love for them. He'd worked solo for the following months, going on ventures to theoretical locations that he'd overheard some nights when he'd pretended to fall asleep.
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He hadn't lasted long, not even lasting a full day before his second death was upon him. He hears the whoosh of someone flying by before he feels it. The sharp, diamond spear skewering him in his torso, blood trickling from the open wound slowly. It was within the hour that his vision began to fade, succumbing to the pain, dejection beginning to set in.
This is my favorite canon Drow art there is, it's from 'Menzoberranzan, city of intrigue' and it depicts a mother showing her two daughters Narbondel as the city's archmage lights it up for the day
Most Drow art shows nobles or soldiers being in some sort of conflict or about to ambush someone so it's nice to see simpler moments like this one
Itās warm again and Iām craving the beach. But not just any beach. Specifically a beach with beautiful cliffs, crystal clear ice-cold water, and vibrant green algae. I donāt live near one of those so I will draw it instead š
Hi. I'm crazy and i'm going to transcribe Ayda's notes for anyone who wants to read them but isn't able to zoom in or is unable to read the writing.
Gorgug Thistlespring
Gorgug Thistlespring absolutely has the for- [cuts off at the top of the screen] the largest works of magic this world has ever seen.. [cuts off] the greatest wizard of this age. His work on the Night Yorb [cuts off] amazing. (illegible) mind so important of (illegible) His truly fake-
(not able to make out most of this one, it's very intense cursive.)
Adaine Abernant - My best friend and Elven Oracle
I hope all future Aydas find best friends like Adaine. She is an amazing wizard (although no better than Gorgug Thistlespring) and kind person. Studying and researching spells is much more efficient and enjoyable around Adaine. Her presence has helped me greatly in many areas of my arcane research. Her knowledge of the arcane combined with her creativity and slight homicidality is immensely helpful
The creature of Bogariel Frogariel, more commonly called Boggy, had to be one of the greatest works of magic ever done. Boggy makes me emotional to think about. His little backpack is offensively cute. His cre[ation] inspired Garty and Adaine the Fish, or GAF as Adaine ingeniously recommended. I didnt fully understand all of the p-[ossibilities?] of familiars, like their calming p[resence(?) the rest is covered] There's more information on my [covered] understanding starting on page 2 [covered]
I have found the spell she made for me "Ayda's Comprehend Subtext" extremely helpful. Especially when Fig is not there to explain things to me. It was a great joy to learn the spell made for her "Adaine's Furious Fist" is useful to her. Making spells for your friends, especially best friends, is overwhelmingly fun and me[covered] Adaine is [covered] the [covered] way that] covered.
Figueroth "Fig" Faeth pt. 9- My eternal Paramour
Her Hair cont.
I believe her hair to smell better than anything I've ever come across. Her purple bangs are beautiful and ever fading. I love observing the gradual fading of her hair into hues I never could have imagined to be so beautiful I especially love when it fades to the specific share that means it's almost time to help her re-color it. Helping Fig is one of my greatest joys. We must find every way we can to help Fig in every one of our lives. I also must make sure to continue our study of braids so we can find another reason to touch her hair and surprised her with the most ornate and beautiful styles. (refer to pg 12)
Her Eyes
I must continue my research to find the color that best approximates the wean of pinks and reds in her eyes. Sometimes when we kiss (refer to page 2 for additional notes) I wish we could both keep our eyes open so i could study them closer. Although I've been told that keeping your eyes open while kissing can be "awkward". Seeing the way her eyes shine when she figures out the title for a new song make me [covered] would ask her to name some spells for [covered]. w I could have ever been (possibly seen?) [covered] her eyes, profoundly confuse [covered] to continue being able to look [covered] to look at Fig's eyes in every (something) [covered] am not I will surely incinerate. Please [covered] Aydas know that risk and know how many [covered] over not knowing Fig.
[covered] don't know Fig in my next lives, at least you will [have my] notes. She has taught me more about how to live than any of the the past [covered] extensive (something)actions. I trust you, future Ayda reading this, to learn how to [to] love yourself and let yourself love others like Fig and the rest of the Bad Kids helped me learn how to do.
And the mostly covered: Fig Pt 7
[covered] by skating away [covered] happiness in telling me things [covered] her friends extremely extremely selfless (illegible) to help her friends with whatever they need. She likes to downplay how much she cares for and cares for her friends. Fig has told me how hard it is to open up fully and ask her friends for help. I think she has a hard time expressing (something) things about herself and the things she struggles with. I've seen that Fig doesn't have enough self worth and it tends her to believe that if her friends see her needing real help and not being as competent as she tries so hard to seem, that they will see her as less worthy of being their friend. Seeing her think so little of herself, not believing that she's even worthy enough to ask her closest friends for help makes me extremely saddened. I hope I can (something) to help her see her own [cut off] know how much her friends love her and want to help her. I have seen-
[ID: a digital drawing of Ayda from Fantasy High sitting on the wooden floor of the library with a sky light overhead shining down on notes spread out on the floor in front of her. Ayda is sitting cross-legged as she works on her notes. The second picture is a picture of her notes which are transcribed in the reblog above. End ID]
I feel so many feelings about Rocky during the first contact. He wants to connect SO BADLY. Do Eridians have horror stories about scary aliens? If they do, Rocky doesn't care. He wants this alien to be friendly. He does everything he can to accommodate. Here, a little gift I'm sending your way at the speed you're comfortable with. Please be there. Here, the next gift is going right into your airlock so that it's easier for you to catch. Please don't fly away. You made a strange gesture with your limb, I'll make my robot make that gesture back. Please belive that I'm friendly. Here's a tunnel to connect us, I'll make sure you can breathe in it. Please come meet me. I'll let you choose the material for the wall separating us; I'll rebuild the whole wall if it makes you more comfortable, no trouble, just please let's talk. You're all alone on your ship, I can hear it, please come sleep here where I can watch you, it's unsafe for you to be alone. I'm alone and scared, it's been 46 years since I felt safe while sleeping, please please please watch me sleep too. I'm very vulnerable when I sleep and I trust that you won't use it against me. I want to visit your ship, am allowed, question? I'm moving in with you. Let's save the stars.
