Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

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Kiana Khansmith
Keni
i don't do bad sauce passes
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
wallacepolsom
art blog(derogatory)
No title available
🪼

blake kathryn

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

#extradirty

ellievsbear

Origami Around

Product Placement
Show & Tell

Discoholic 🪩
styofa doing anything
noise dept.

seen from Türkiye
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seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye
seen from Brazil
seen from Türkiye
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seen from United Kingdom
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seen from United States
seen from United States
@riekling
Sharing the HeroForge wip of my little fella!
Love is worthless. This is a concept hammered into every orc, goblin, and troll's mind from the moment they pick up a blade. Love makes you weak. Love makes you irrational. Love makes you cowardly. Taught to every one of us to make us the perfect soldier.
There is no love in our clan. There are allies, but no friends. Bonds are made only in battle, and only on ability. Mates reproduce and return to work. Everything runs without conflict, and without connections.
For runts like me, they drill it in harder than most. Perhaps if we love less, we'll grow faster. The hate and anger that replaced it would make us stronger.
Since birth I thought this was the way the world was supposed to be. All species held love in the same regard we do, and that was final. That was my view until I met the wanderers.
Thrown out by my tribe for maturing too slowly, I was found fending for myself on a path to a cave. I was ready for my final stand. I bared my teeth, and held my stick out... And they responded with laughter. When I charged, they fought back. Though their skill was greater than mine, they seemed to take care to ensure I was unharmed.
Once disarmed, I knelt to take my fate. One I could be proud of. I closed my eyes... and nothing came. Instead, they told me to stand. The mage reached a hand out. I took it. From then on, I was one of them.
In the first few encounters, I was foolish. I was used to working on my own. Fighting as one, rather than a team. I rushed ahead, and in exchange got beaten to a pulp. Only thanks to the cleric did I stand back up.
They taught me of relationships. Real, personal ones. Through campfire stories, chaotic encounters, and bonds that formed through mutual respect and compassion, I learned how useful love is. I learned about friendship.
And as we stand in the firey hellscape caused by the grandwizard's unstable gem, I recall everything the wanderers have done. They saved my life. They gave me purpose. They taught me love.
All of these lessons show me what I must do. I walk forwards, against the pleas of my party. My companions yell out as I stare at the gem. Their screams are barely audible over the loud rumbles of the earth around us, and the screeching of the gem.
A tear drops from my eye. I grip the gem. As the magic courses through me, I feel it tearing through my soul. It rends my very essence, but I stay still. I must keep the wanderers safe.
The energy exits through every crevice in my body, leaving my friends in safety. I withstand another second before my soul is torn completely, but I've done it. I know with what's left of my consciousness that I did it.
I saved friends.
Fartbuckle is happy.
some sgraffito arowanas
fear me
Meet Yago the riekling & his loyal bristleback Muzhoga. :)
ghosts in the 15th century
this above literally all else, ok?
every image of a tawny frogmouth is perfection. i've never seen a single picture of a tawny that dissapoints.
crinkles up at u
i want “had low iron and gave up the will to live a little too quickly” written on my headstone actually
I’m so scared, what the fuck does this do to you
stabbing as a metaphor for penetration is great but when are we going to talk about pressing down on where someone is wounded to disarm them or just to be cruel while fighting. does nobody else care about the perverse intimacy of knowing exactly where to touch to overpower someone. the grotesque vulnerability of it. especially if you're the one who wounded them in the first place.