made some paintings for me and my gfs dbd ocs
made some paintings for me and my gfs dbd ocs
Golden Shrike Pros: Gorgeous art, well-written characters, and interesting lore. Updates often. Patreon options and a Discord community for those interested. Cons: The only criticism I can think of, is I wish cameo characters followed a guideline, because the occasional cyan background deer is jarring. Overall: GS is great! The colors, paneling, text, and everything else is wonderful to look at. The author clearly knows how to write sibling characters, and both main characters are likeable and understandable in their own ways. I’m really looking forward to seeing where their journey takes them, and I’m also looking forward to learning more about the birds and gods. It’s a definite recommend. Oren’s Forge Pros: Beautiful, professional-grade art (coloring, anatomy, action poses, everything), an interesting lead character, and a unique premise. Updates often, and also has Patreon and Kickstarter options for those interested. Cons: Some of the characters feel a bit simple, pure good or evil for example, and sometimes it can be confusing to understand which language the characters are speaking (the bubbles are red for ‘carnivore’, green for ‘herbivore’, but then sometimes they are white). Overall: OF is another great comic. The art is inspiring, from backgrounds to characters and poses. Even though some characters are simple, not all of them are, and there’s plenty of them to enjoy. Sentient anthro wildlife is a fun new take on animals, and the fight-scenes are good too. I look forward to each page, and strongly recommend it!
There he is!
Gruß vom Papa.
Neuntöter / Red-backed shrike / Lanius collurio
Sächsische Schweiz, Mai 2021
lil doodle [plus version without mask cause I liked how their face turned out]
shrike is def hua cheng but i also feel like it even more suits mo ran and chu wanning *open sobbing*
i love duck duck go but sometimes you can really tell it’s still a work in progress
Quell, you ass, if you're going to radio me at least say something so I know you're alive, Wren thought, hoping she'd followed the signal to the right place. The caves were easy to get lost in if you didn't know them well. Fortunately, she knew them better than anyone.
She turned around a bend, the signal strength spiking on her radio, and stopped dead in her tracks.
There Quell was, slumped semi-conscious against the cave wall, staring at her with one terrified eye. Their face was a mess. The skin on their right cheek was raw, almost flayed-looking, covered in deep burns and charred dried blood, as though the skin had been seared off with a hot knife. In the center of these already horrible burns was an even deeper wound, scorched and blackened skin in the shape of the letter M. It looked almost like her friend had been branded... which, Wren realized, they likely had. She had known that some factions still approved of that form of vigilante justice, but had never realized the implications of that fact. Oh, Quell, what have you done to deserve this? The skin around the burns was red and swollen, and the eye on that side nearly closed. Their dark brown hair, still longer on the left side than the right, was damp with sweat sticking it to their face. They were breathing in slow, pained gasps, trying to avoid outright sobbing.
"Quell... are you alright?" Wren signed, and then realized how stupid of a question that was. "No, oh stars, no you aren't."
They said nothing, still just looking up at her. Of course, she realized, they couldn't talk with that wound on their face, but she knew why they had called her - the same reason anyone did. They needed a ride. And, burnt too badly to speak or not, marked as a murderer or not, they would get one. Even if she had to carry them to her shuttle.
As Wren approached them, she noticed that their clothing seemed oddly shaped, the oversized sweater and loose pants tighter than they normally hung on Quell's wiry frame. She tentatively reached out and took their arm, and felt something hard under their sleeve. They didn't respond to her attempt to pull them toward standing, so she scooped them into her arms. She was barely able to lift them - in addition to being surprisingly densely built for their small size, they were clearly wearing some kind of tightly fitted armor, with spikes that almost poked through their (slightly bloodstained) clothing in a few places.
She carried them to her shuttle, and gently placed them in one of the seats, signing soft reassurances (to herself as much as to them) as she strapped them in. Then she pulled the one-way shades down over all the windows, strapped herself into her own seat, and began to chart a course toward her own home through back-tunnels and less lived-in areas.
From time to time she looked back at Quell, who seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, or maybe of sleep. They seemed so fragile now. Wren thought back to the first time she'd met them. She had been afraid of them then, and not without a reason. Wren had never liked to judge people by first impressions, but in a job as dangerous as hers, and with her conditions that put her further at risk, she had learned to recognize dangerous people. And Quell had struck her as very dangerous indeed on first impression: dark eyes that flashed with what she had taken to be hidden anger, a name that seemed too strange to be theirs by birth and too unfamiliar in their mouth to be theirs by choice, the outline of a none-too-subtly concealed knife at their hip, and a strength apparent in their movements which gave her no room to doubt that - though they were a head shorter than her - they could easily overpower her if they chose to try. But she was forbidden from refusing strangers travel unless they actively made her threats, and Quell had done nothing of the sort, so she had adopted her usual nonthreatening persona and pretended not to see the warning signs. And maybe they had mistaken her projected warmth for actual friendliness, or maybe they had just been desperate for a kind conversation. Either way, they had confided in her, though never revealing the true nature of their actions. At first they had framed it as workplace grievances, an employer they feared and a job they hated, being forced to do things they were morally opposed to. But soon they had started to trust Wren, and revealed more to her - still not the full truth, but enough for her to understand that they were a weapon in someone's terrible scheme, and knew it, but couldn't escape. And as time went by and the details began to line up, Wren had started to guess who exactly "Quell" really was. But until this moment, she hadn't been certain, or even really realized what it meant for them, for her.
What did it mean for her, to have someone like this trusting her with their life?
How much for the vampire fic op
*deep, dated sigh* Well, I am working on a novel series. And I do have.....Pre-College Fandom Bullshit. But. At the exchange rate of art piece for art piece....you give Dark Fey to me, I give Vampire Requests to you. While I know most fandoms, I’m not gonna write Anne Rice or Edward Cullen because I wanna fistfight their creators in the Wal-Mart parking lot instead. Drabbles under 500 words I will do p much for free as daily warm-ups. You want a Real Fic (>500 words -- because I always go from like, 500-600 words to 1k+ without in betweens......and then chapters of 5k+ / “one shots” of 10k+), I want Dark Fey art for it. That includes, but is not limited to, visual art, fanfiction, manips, fan videos, etc. A spotify playlist counts toward a short fic (under 3k). Basically you make stuff for my fandom, I make stuff for yours. And please......please don’t ask me to write for the tall, busty vampire lady from Resident Evil. It’s not that I can’t do it, it’s that she’s y’all’s Shrike and I don’t know if I can keysmash coherently.
thinking about when Hozier sang in shrike, "I couldn't utter my love when it counted"
My brain yearns to get a Cameo from Josh Keaton of him singing one of the songs on my Adashi playlist and I am ooga booga about it
also just this morning I wrote a thing that kind of goes with that painting! warning for description of burn injuries though
“I did not know mortals were so small and beautiful.”
A quickie for Mermay, ft. Shrike and Mikau of the book I will one day write :)
me in the beginning of a torch against night: why we read about helene she was mean I don’t like her
me reading 3rd and 4th books: i am in love with helene aquilla i would do everything she asks, she is the strongest woman ever
they are spitting the facts 💅
𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 " 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑜𝑡. " 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑒'𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡/𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒. [ ACCEPTING ]
𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴 𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙴𝙸𝚅𝙴𝙳 : “ You’re an idiot. “ Noct.
❝ Okay , okay ! 𝘼𝘼𝙃𝙃 --- !! ( Sharp hiss ) I’ll … admit .. that 𝙬𝙖𝙨 stupid … on my part ah ! 𝘼𝙃 ! 𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙇𝙀 𝘿𝙐𝘿𝙀 ! ❞ Head , tilting backward , concealing optics , not 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 the blood trickling from the wound on his leg. ❝ Woulda been a cool shot though right ? 𝗢𝗪 𝗢𝗪 𝗢𝗪𝗪𝗪 ! ( That one was 𝙤𝙣 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙚 - he would swear his life on it ) I thought you were meana be 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒊𝒏' dude ! ❞ Expressed through bared teeth.
I’m that little voice in your head that’s telling you to read Chaos Walking
My blog has one true purpose: bully Mayor Prentiss.