blightworn

[blightworn]

hi everyone!! i'm still going through a tumultuous time and dragon age is still very much not on my mind but i miss you guys and wanted to say hello!! i hope you're all doing well i miss your writing so i'm gonna lurk for a bit and bask in your talent

[blightworn]

Ember & Ink has a public server!

Nuance will save the world — not in the abstract, but in the real, uncomfortable choices we make every day. It’s in the conversation where nobody says the perfect thing, but both people walk away trying harder. It’s in the community meeting where five people show up, exhausted, and still manage to get something done. It’s in the decision to redistribute resources even when you don’t have much to spare, because you know someone else has less.

We’ve been sold the idea that clarity means certainty — that right and wrong are clean lines, and any hesitation is weakness. But clarity without context becomes cruelty. And certainty without care becomes control.

Grassroots work demands nuance. Mutual aid demands nuance. You have to hold space for burnout and boundaries, while still showing up. You have to trust that people can grow, without excusing harm. You have to believe in both personal agency and systemic failure, and act with that tension in mind.

Nuance is not indecision. It’s precision. It’s care. It’s looking at a tangled situation and choosing, deliberately, not to flatten it into something easier to swallow. It’s the belief that complexity is not a threat — it’s a sign of life.

And that belief? That’s the foundation of every real movement that’s ever lasted.

It’s also the foundation of Ember & Ink.

This project was built on nuance — on the understanding that creative work and community care aren’t separate things. That we need systems that don’t collapse the moment someone needs rest. That mutual aid, collaborative storytelling, and ethical work can (and must) exist side by side. This isn’t just a collective for artists. It’s a working experiment in what happens when we take each other seriously — not just as creators, but as people.

The Ember & Ink server is now open in beta. It’s low-budget, low-stakes, and unapologetically value-driven. Some people are here to find paid work. Some are here to collaborate. Some are here to build things that don’t quite fit anywhere else. All of that is welcome — as long as you come in honest about your capacity and your goals.

If you believe in complexity, care, and collective power, we’d love to have you.

[blightworn]

semi-hiatus.

i mean this is pretty obvious at this point but all of my rp blogs are on a semi-hiatus until i get muse back; not sure when that will happen but in the meantime, i'm on here @bellefrenches and bluesky if you want to follow! i adore you guys and i miss you dearly, so i'm hoping i'll be able to think about this stuff again. da is super linked to my ex and i miss her a lot so we are Suffering from associations out here

[blightworn]

reminder that i'm inviting all of you to my server where we create things together and i pay you for graphic design, art, writing, video editing, and more for my marketing business.

it's not a lot because ember & ink is targeted towards micro budget artists and small businesses, but it's something. i'm really looking for canva-level works and all of you are well beyond that level of ability, so if you're curious about getting some money on the side, please dm me!

[blightworn]

of course they would. of course he would. it's a simple fact; claude could never keep the love in his life, no matter how hard he clung.

" why wouldn't you, if given the chance? " he scoffs at the idea of her staying, shaking his head with a weak smile. " devotion turns to pity, pity turns to resentment, and resentment turns you away. "

claude is weak, at the end of the day. weak to love, weak to hate, weak to desperation; surely she'll realize this, and grow sick of him. he's proving it right now, yet he's unable to stop himself.

her closeness makes him breathe in slowly, taking in her sweet scent and closing his eyes. oh, how he adores her. he would never recover if she left. shattered heart, missing soul. " how do you love me, my sweet? "

his  touch  finds  her  shoulder  and  it  has  lilac  hues  snapping  to  observe  him,  gaze  meandering  over  his  expression  as  she  tries  to  see  the  truth  beneath  the  veneer  of  his  anger.

then  she  hears  it;  the  ghost  of  desperation  from  the  back  of  their  throat  that  has  her  eyes  trailing  from  their  eyes.  she  pauses,  her  body  slowly  turning  in  place  before  she  is  facing  claude  entirely.

"  you  worry  too  much.  "  she  huffs  as  she  looks  down  at  the  floor  and  steps  closer  into  their  space.  her  eyes  finally  lift  back  up  toward  him,  her  chest  heaving  as  her  arms  have  woven  around  her  torso.  "  you  think  someone  could  take  me  from  you?  "  spoke  softer,  almost  sad  as  she  risks  locking  eyes  with  him  again.  “  do  you  think  i  would  leave  you  that  easily?  ”

[blightworn]

they chuckle softly, though his eyes are sharp, studying her closely. after a moment, he brings his free hand up to ghost over her cheek, touch gentler than he has any right to be. " anything is a dangerous proposal, " they hum, a slight smile playing on their face.

" what do you seek most? power? legacy? the satisfaction of burning it all to the ground? " his tone is lighter now, eyes glinting under the veilfire.

it's  like  lightning,  their  touch  on  her  skin.  it  has  her  fingers  twitching  in  response  as  lilac  hues  slowly  grow  half-lidded.  while  she  is  used  to  using  her  charms,  she's  not  quite  used  to  someone  using  theirs  back.  she  is  more  used  to  simpering  little  boys  who  are  easy  to  manipulate.  but  claude  is  different.  they  are  not  a  foolish  whelp  who  witnesses  a  flirtation  from  a  woman  and  fall  at  her  feet.

however,  while  he  doesn't  commit  right  away,  there's  a  glint  in  his  eyes  that  mirrors  her  own.

he  wants  it.

"  nevarra  has  been  trapped  under  a  weak,  decrepit  monarch,  "  she  muses  as  she  leans  in  closer  herself  as  her  hand  pauses  under  his  touch,  her  fingers  lifting  to  brush  over  his.  "  and  sometimes  you  must  burn  the  old  to  make  way  for  the  new.  "  her  eyes  lock  with  his  then,  full  lips  parting  almost  in  expectation—perhaps  purposefully  enticing,  she'll  never  tell.  "  and  you  would  have  anything  you  want.  "

[blightworn]

queued two replies so i can't say i didn't do anything while i was struggling to sleep

[blightworn]

stares at ceiling i wanna rp davrin

[blightworn]

like this if you don't mind me following from my personal

[blightworn]

receiving and giving; he loves to provide unsolicited feedback

i don't think it needs to be said that claude has a praise kink

[blightworn]

fandom question: who is your favorite artist for the full vg gang?

[blightworn]

#FAAEBAE. anna winden || original faerie character with verses for dragon age, the elder scrolls, star trek & more || highly selective & mutually exclusive || follows back from @ilingeron || written by logan (30, they/them) ||

[blightworn]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓆩♡𓆪ㅤSUBTLE WAYS OF SAYING 'I LOVE YOU' ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ– a collection of subtle romance prompts. some suggestive. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤplease change pronouns and verbiage as needed.

— dialogue based prompts.

i wish you would see yourself the way i do.

i'm tired of waiting for the day you realize i'm in love with you.

i saw this and it made me think of you.

my days feel better when you're part of them.

i noticed everything about you.

can i kiss you?

if you keep that up, i might just fall in love with you.

i thought i'd never feel this way again … and then you came around.

would you like to stay the night?

do you want to sleep with me?

friends don't kiss me the way you did and then expect me to forget.

i just want to sit here, eat cake, and forget the world outside of us exists.

i think my hand was made to fit in yours.

don't forget me.

— action based prompts.

the sender tucks wild hairs behind the receiver's ear mid-conversation, rendering the receiver speechless momentarily.

the receiver reaches for the sender's hand after the sender placed a blanket around the receiver's sleepy form, wanting to pull the sender to join the receiver.

the sender wraps their arms around the receiver's shoulders/arms from behind, no words spoken. they simply wanted a peaceful moment with the other.

the receiver has playfully stolen an article of the sender's clothing and the sender tries to steal it back,  leaving room for playful and consensual forced proximity.

the sender runs through rain trying to catch up to the receiver after a disagreement that has kept them apart for a couple of days.

the sender stands in front of the receiver's door with a care package (full of candies, a teddy bear, and more) after the receiver had a terrible blind date.

[blightworn]

DIG DEEP DOWN AND KILL... YOUR SUFFERING.

independent jonathan crane. scarecrow: year one. written by violet. (x)

[blightworn]

The person I reblogged this from deserves all the good things.

[blightworn]

not rp related but i'm seeking someone who might be willing to work with me as a (canva/photopea) designer for my copywriting for substack publications :3 if that aligns with anything any of you might be interested in please feel free to message me!! esp if we're already discord moots because we're already

[blightworn]

claude is not falon’din reborn. he is not divine, not fated, not holy. no myth lives in him—only want, only will. the kind of want that splits open skin and threads itself through the gaps. the kind of will that decides a body is just a suggestion.

they tried to name him once. pinned him down with he/him like it could hold him in place. like it could stop the bleeding. it didn’t take. claude is a thing that wears names like costumes, not truths. he wears “sir” like silk gloves and peels them off when the work begins.

if he was ever a boy, he carved it out of himself. if he was ever a woman, he buried her under theatre boards. if he was ever a god, he laughed himself hoarse at the thought.

he didn’t inherit power. he took it. stitched it into a shape that made people uncomfortable. made them stare. made them whisper behind closed doors.

and when the demons scream his name, when they sob and shudder and break against the spellwork that binds them, they’re not calling for a god. they’re not calling for mercy.

they’re calling for claude. and he answers in something floral, velvet, and soaked through with blood.