lockawayknight

[lockawayknight]

@yellowfingcr hey man can you call off y

[lockawayknight]

I’m something of a gamer myself

[lockawayknight]

"Oh, Creighton! You're the only one I can trust."

[lockawayknight]

am always obsessed when someone says to a character “call off your dog” about another character.

[lockawayknight]

so turns out my car needs like $1200+ in repairs, So. taking some commissions. anything helps.

prices for the first three styles (lined/coloured/shaded or lineless) are all the same price, $35 for a fullbody and uhh prices for other sizes can be nego

the fourth one, line-focused w/colour accents, would be like $30 for a portrait (idk why those are so much more time consuming and difficult for me😭)

i do mock neopets trading cards too!! if anyone else has the same nostalgia bone fjjdkdjs. usually also $35

i also do crochet dolls like the last little man… price usually starts at $80 for simple designs and that includes cost of materials and shipping

i can do humans and furries and monsters and stuff… i’m bad with mecha and armour but i will try my best my dudes

i also have a donation link here👇🏽

prices are always nego… ty…….

[lockawayknight]

[lockawayknight]

on my way! to live yet another day in my fucking life.

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They’re soulmates but one of them is infact trying to choke the other to death with the red string of fate tying them together

[lockawayknight]

// hey guys just wanted to stop by to say hey and uhhhhh yeah just so you guys know uh did you know?? yeah i’m completely head over heels for ironeye ok?? yeah just wanted you guys to know. just so you know alright. justt so you kn

[lockawayknight]

BUT WHY IS LEONHARD THERE????

[lockawayknight]

@swordluck sent:

Outside, snow swirled lazily, falling against the backdrop of a silver-blue sky. Inside, Anri’s kitchen was filled with the warm scent of brown sugar and vanilla. A soft hum of Christmas loifi music played from the small radio on the counter, barely audible over the clinking of spoons and the scrape of spatulas. Creighton sat at the kitchen table, sleeves rolled up and an oversized apron awkwardly tied over his broad chest. He glared suspiciously at the cookie in his hand – a vaguely star-shaped creation that seemed to have grown lopsided in the oven. "It's not supposed to be perfect, Creighton — just festive." Anri, perched opposite him with a piping bag in hand, smiled gently. "Besides, I think it has character."

Despite Anri's optimism, and the fact that he knows she knows best (least of all compared to himself), Creighton still squints his eyes accusingly at the sweet sugar cookie held delicately between his fingers.

It's a delicate balance he's been forced to find — here, sitting at the table, surrounded by colourful sprinkles and much-loved piping bags; and earlier, too, kneading chilled dough and handling delicate bottles of sugary extracts. Creighton's hands themselves tell a story that no amount of words ever could: palms both warm and worn, fingers nimble but calloused, knuckles scarred from both scuffles with strangers and mishaps with detailing scissors. Hands that look so much more like a veteran's, a working man's, a criminal's, than the rather boringly average man with his boringly charming career that Creighton is in truth these days. A hundred injuries, from a hundred arguments, during the hundred times he was treated — and acted — like a far crueller man than the one he is at heart.

Indeed, his hands belong to a man far less kind than the one who sits at Anri's kitchen table right now: the man with his sleeves spattered with flour, and his hair tied back messily, wearing this ill-fitting apron with its intricate floral embroidery.

Creighton wills those criminal's fingers to be gentle, holding the misshapen cookie between a forefinger and thumb, expression far more taut than his grip. He wrinkles his nose a bit, lip curling in disapproval. "Y'say tha' about most things wha' look like shit," he grumbles. It is said in a vicious enough tone that a stranger would surely take it as an insult, but Anri knows him well enough to know that… well, that's just how he talks. He's not at all as upset as he may sound. Not upset at all, really.

And this is further proven in the way that he then, oh so very gently, places the cookie back upon the little saucer set before him, light as one handling a quail egg. With a little huff, he grabs his own piping bag, then twists its end tight — a little too tight at first, causing the bright green frosting within to splat out quite dramatically, though he salvages it quickly by drawing a swirl in the cookie's middle with the excess. In a threatening whisper, he adds a gruff, "Don't worry, I'll fix the bastard up…"

And he does, bit by bit, slowly tracing a far more appealing-looking star in the cookie's center, his focus honed on the task like a surgeon with a scalpel.

[lockawayknight]

// i mean tbf a lot of people were theorising elden ring would be a ds2 successor when it first came out like. hm.

it would be (+/-)cool if they made that canon somewhat tbh!! a mirrah-like area or straight up Reference in er a la earthen peak in ringed city or smthn….. hmmmm hm hm

// BUT WHY IS LUCATIEL THERE!???????

[lockawayknight]

// BUT WHY IS LUCATIEL THERE!???????

[lockawayknight]

was measuring out some sugar and i scooped out one spoonful and fucking said "two." i didn't know you could even lose count that fast

[lockawayknight]

[lockawayknight]

[lockawayknight]

After a couple of beers anything is possible...