#she's just so fun to draw and think about in general

[vodika-vibes]

Vod’ika - my medic has been not seeing eye to eye with her Commanding Officer, Commander Baccara. She thinks the troopers are all over worked, under fed and it’s kriffing cold and wet. How about a bon fire?!?! (And maybe some hot snuggles afterwards, you know just to get nice and warm 😉)

Doctor's Orders

Summary: When Commander Bacara and his men are stuck on a planet far, far away from the comforts of Coruscant, you decide to help them relax.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader

Word Count: 955

Prompt: Bonfire

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope you like it!

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It’s cold. Cold and wet and miserable.

Oh, it’s not raining, but the dampness in the air cuts through your uniform, leaving you miserable and irritable.

Even worse, you can’t even stay on the ship because there’s something wrong with the exhaust system, which means the warm and dry ship that has been your home these last six months, is now very off-limits while the engineering crew tries to keep the ship from killing everyone.

Fun times.

This means that everyone is living and working out of tents. Luckily, there haven’t been any injuries that require a bacta tank or emergency surgery.

You tug your jacket a little tighter around you and allow your gaze to drift across the camp. The men are hungry and tired, and it’s made them all short-tempered.

Bacara has had to break up more than one argument that devolved into a physical altercation since becoming stranded here.

Speaking of Bacara—

You sweep your gaze across the camp until you find your Commander. Even from where you’re sitting, you can see the exhaustion dragging him down. His shoulders are tense, and you know that if he removed his helmet, his jaw would be clenched.

General Mundi, sitting not far away from Commander Bacara, looks just as tense and unhappy. His unflappable Jedi calm finally crumbles under the stress of the situation. 

You shift slightly and rest your chin on the palm of your hand. This situation is…familiar. When you were a girl, your family had ended up stranded at your uncle’s cabin for a couple of weeks. But you don’t remember the mood at the cabin even getting so bad.

You purse your lips thoughtfully.

Thinking about it, dad had been careful to make sure that everyone was having fun. He set up games and told stories…and every night there was a bonfire to cut the chill.

You sit up suddenly as the idea wiggles into your brain like a particularly stubborn earworm, and you stand.

A bonfire.

It might not fix everything, but it might make the evenings more tolerable, right?

Not to mention, the middle of the camp has already been cleared of any fire hazards, so all you’ll have to do is make the pit, and gather some stones and some dry wood.

You won’t even need help, you’ve been making bonfires since you were a teenager.

The idea solidified, you move to the edge of the camp to pick up a solid stick, and then move to the middle of the camp to draw where you’re going to build your bonfire. 

As your firepit grows, more and more people stop what they’re working on to watch you. Though none of the clones came over to help you, some of the other natborns do though. You don’t mind, you doubt they’ve ever been to a bonfire before.

And, just before the sun sets, one of your coworkers lights the bonfire and it roars to life. A controlled roar, but a roar all the same. Another civilian, a member of the kitchen staff, supplies some music, and you watch as your coworkers and friends start to relax.

Even the clones are starting to relax, once someone explains to them what’s going on.

Well. Most of them.

You know you saw Bacara go back into the Command tent rather than staying out to relax, and you’ve decided that you’re not going to stand for it. Or sit for it, for that matter.

So you slip away from the gathering, which is slowly starting to have the feel of a massive party and push your way into the Command tent. You square your stance and set your hands on your hips, and you glare at your Commander.

“You need a break.”

“I’m busy.”

“The work will still be there in the morning.” You walk over to him and reach up to tug his helmet off his head, “One night to relax, Cara, you need it. You all need it.”

He frowns at you and shakes his head.

“Cara, General Mundi almost lost his shit this morning. I didn’t even know he could lose his shit.”

“I’m fine.”

“Alright, but I’m not.”

He pauses, and his gaze immediately snaps to your face. He stares at you for a moment, likely taking in your messy hair and the dark circles under your eyes, and then he sighs, “You won’t take a break unless I’m next to you.” It’s not a question.

You just grin up at him and hold out your hand for him to take.

You lead him out of the tent and over to the blanket that someone set on the ground for you earlier. It’s a bit further away from the bonfire than you would prefer, but it's what Bacara prefers, so you’re fine with it.

You’re about to tell him to have a seat, but he beats you to it, sitting on the blanket and leaning back against the tree. So, gleefully, you sit between his legs and lean your head back against his shoulder.

“See, isn’t this relaxing, Cara?”

His arms slide securely around your shoulders, “Not in the slightest.”

“Liar.”

His arms tighten around you and you feel his lips brush against your temple for a moment, and you grin as you wrap your hands around his forearms, for Bacara, that was as good as an admission of love.

“Love you, Cara.” You say in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah, yeah.” One of his hands presses against your mouth, “I know.”

With Bacara wrapped around you, and a bonfire raging in front of you you finally feel warm again. 

So, you mentally call it a successful mission and immediately busy yourself with cuddling Bacara, since he deserves it.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@Mira-Loves-Star-Wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

[cordycepsbian]

caprice moved to bugaria

[potatobugz]

*t-shirt that says "ask me about my bfdi high fantasy au*

[kkoct-ik]

part one of my big requests bundle! and a cobbed together bonus panel. as a treat

[captaindeinony]

Pokemas canon but

[artsandstoriesandstuff]

Ginger and Gingerbread or something, I don't know I didn't grow up with this show

[argetcross]

My Tadpole Party dynamics, featuring Keres, my Sorcerer Tav! This is what I have headcanoned for the party dynamics and relationships, including some major Act 1 -> Act 3 shifts. I love them all so much... ;u;

[averlym]

whshdfhfjf.,,,

[good-beans]

(Milgram self-insert oc masterpost hehe)

Name: For the sake of posting online I’ll call her Rose!

Color: #E7355B [the pink in the art]

Age: I guess she’d be 20 given when Milgram started huh.

Status: Milgram Staff, Machine Technician

Symbols/imagery: ballet/musical theater, science experiments

Song genre: very similar to Mahiru's, something upbeat and extra pop-y

Tentatively she's number 011? She's not really prisoner but she's also not free to come and go, so I'm not actually sure if she'd get a number (Edit: I've decided she'll actually be 012. Staff is given the 01X range, and even though Es doesn't actively have a number they'd be staff member 011, making her 012.)

Story: Since the project is supposed to be realistic/present day, the mv machine would be brand new and unpredictable tech, so they’d want someone keeping up on maintenance and making sure the brain-invasive process won’t cause any harm to the prisoners. Rose was studying abroad in Japan working on some cool neuroscience tech (irl I know nothing about technology or brains but shh) and she stumbled upon some secret tech/plans from Milgram. Long story short, she was dragged into the experiment to make sure things ran smoothly.

Writer's Reasoning: She’s really fun for me to play around with, as she allows me to work with a character who has a tiny bit of pull over Es’ mindset in conversation but not the final decision (aka mirroring the voting system), and someone who is simultaneously trapped in the prison but has a reason to see all the canon content.* I really enjoy the character interactions and dynamics Milgram has set up so far, so it’s been super fun seeing how things change for better and worse when someone not quite aligned with either Milgram/the prisoners is thrown into the mix!

*As much as I love dramatic irony in fiction, it would drive me crazy if I knew every detail of of the vds/mvs but Rose didn't – and every single Milgram character is The Worst Communicator Ever so I couldn’t justify that she’d hear it secondhand from them...

Story roles:

She’s a bit conflicted -- she’s officially Milgram staff and knows she should remain neutral on the prisoners, since she won’t be allowed to interfere with the process/executions. At the same time, her job description is literally “make sure the machine doesn't hurt them and everyone's safe :)” and she's way too emotional to avoid getting hopelessly attached to everyone 😅

I really enjoy the theory that the machine extracts videos based off of priming, so one of Rose’s duties involves listening in on the interrogation and making sure there’s been enough material discussed/not too much time has passed overall (hence the ringing of the bell happening at different lengths for each vd -- That's her ringing it :3). She then watches the mvs along with Es to make sure there are no machine glitches, and know how to calibrate it better for next time.

(IEdit: I've since decided to add in official trial mvs, but before when I wasn't ready to tackle that:) She has to run some tests on the machine to make sure things are calibrated correctly, so she'd extract little things here and there. It gives me the opportunity to think up lyric snippets and recurring symbols for her without worrying about full encompassing music videos.

I'm not afraid to admit she can fall into Mary Sue territory every so often by being everyone's friend, because it's less about "aw everyone likes her" and more about "canon is too painful rn and I need a fix-it tool to take care of these guys and give them hugs and tell them someone forgives them and cares about them and unfortunately these characters wouldn't let anyone less than a friend do that." Rest assured she's definitely not perfect and will fuck everything up on occasion :3

Miscellaneous: Whenever I play around with normal au ideas she's still working on the machine (but in a public, more ethical setting), and she's Mahiru's roommate :) Her character isn't super focused on love, but if I had to pick a cover song it'd be Stickybug II. It's very much my vibe, the lyrics fit well enough (better than most songs, at least lol) and it's one of my favorites out of my limited knowledge of unchosen Deco songs! (Edit, I've actually given her non-deco cover songs hehe)

So yeah, I hope she's not too boring without a cool crime to decipher, but I wanted to share since I was really proud of her! It took a bit of tinkering to find a way to fit her into a perfect secret-third-thing role that runs very smoothly with all of canon, so I was very excited!

[mordremrose]

I’m just gonna write a little thing! A little thought for Bloom, nothing too intense, just so I don’t forget it!

1000 words later? Whoops

Writing below the cut, major spoilers for the end of Heart of Thorns and implied End of Dragons spoilers but nothing explicit from EoD :]

Bloom

“Kill me, Commander.” Trahearne could hear his own voice tremble, as horror overtook his dear friend’s face. Around them all, their friends— Rytlock, Caithe, Canach, Marjory, Braham— were exhausted. Worn thin by the fight against the jungle dragon, both physical and within the Dream.

“What? No! Mordremoth is dead. We destroyed its mind from the inside.” The commander protested, their fingers curled around the hilt of Caladbolg.

“But I still hear its voice.” Trahearne looked down at his hands, twisted and blighted as they were. His body was not his— he was corrupted. It was only cruel fate that he had kept his mind this long. Or perhaps something more sinister.

“Mordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige… a terrible seed, planted deep in my mind.”

Trahearne’s hands curled into fist, as he took a deep steadying breath.

“You must kill me, Commander, before that seed grows. Before… before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost.”

He reached out now, hands on his friend’s shoulders. The tears streaming down their face broke his heart. He did not want this. He didn’t want to hurt them, to see them suffer so.

Trahearne wished there was another way.

“What is left of me can’t survive on its own, my friend.” He croaked, and felt the Commander tremble beneath his hands. Were they always so small?

“Strike now or—“

Against his will, a rage rose up. A sick bile that boiled in his stomach and burned through his chest as his mind lurched.

Through his mouth, Mordremoth spoke.

“I am the future! I am this world! You cannot destroy me!” The dragon roared, hands tightening around the commander.

“Run while you can!” It took everything he had left to force his fingers to uncurl, to release the commander even as the dragon wanted to tear them to shreds to be remade anew.

Caladbolg flashed in the corner of his eye.

“No!” The commander yelled. Strike true my friend! Trahearne wanted to yell. But he couldn’t, and his mind went dark.

There was no great explosion. There was no dying scream.

If you asked those present what happened, none of them gave any concrete answer.

Canach hesitated to answer, but would confirm that Mordremoth was no longer hounding his mind, or any of the sylvari.

All Rytlock would say was that the confrontation wasn’t pretty.

Caithe mourned Trahearne, in her quiet and melancholic manner, and asked not to push the matter further.

Braham would scowl, shake his head, and shove his way past, unwilling or perhaps unable to describe that final blow.

Marjory Delaqua, normally so elegant and clever with her words, who could see the twists of a plot before anyone else— when she was asked, she could only shake her head and reply ‘I don’t know’.

The Commander didn’t answer at all, because no one was able to find them to ask.

Eventually, researchers at the newly established lab of Rata Novus confirmed what the entire world held its breath to hear.

Mordremoth was dead. He had to be, to explain the slow steady trickle of magic escaping the jungle, supposedly as the dragon… decayed wasn’t the right word, but it conveyed the idea well enough. It was a slow death, they said, not quite the explosive reaction from Zhaitan, who had gorged itself on magic before its death, but a gradual decay. It changed things, about magic, about how the people of Tyria and the soon to be established Dragon’s Watch understood the flow of magic around and through the Elder Dragons. But it was dead.

It had to be.

He woke up. His body ached, as it always did, as he woke. A consequence of being too bigsmall. He stirred slowly, limbs stretching out and tail dragging behind. He had buried himself beneath massive vines this time, the weight of them both familiar and restricting. These conflicting sensations, the constant disagreement with himself… it was the only thing he could rely on. Even his name escaped his memory, although he could hear whispers of it on the edges of his mind.

Traherdremaneth.

It didn’t matter, really.

He moved slowly, not truly wanting to rise, but knowing he must.

He was something in between, and there was no stillness for him. No place of his own.

His one companion, if you could call it that, would be upon him soon. A dogged purserer, both a thorn in his side and a trusted ally, trailed behind him. For a time he thought they left him— and the feelings that had wrought left him stationary in a deep cave for nearly a week before they had reappeared.

He didn’t want them close, he knew that much, but they were one of the few things he had, a consistency. He couldn’t see them well, not with the distance between them, but he could always make out the broken blade at their hip. The one that made the scar across his chest ache.

He wondered what would happen if he let them get closer. Would they strike? Would they know him?

They were his enemyfriend. What would they make of him? Caution kept him at a distance from them.

The longer he was awake, the more memories he could half-remember.

The Orrian landscape stretches out before him and it reeks of his sibling, twisting beneath the dirt. The undead don’t notice him, not yet, and he can take a moment to look closer at the coral. It was neither alive nor dead. Not unlike himself and yet so different to him or anything he had ever encountered before.

He missed his siblings, their quiet talks among the then empty roots, among safe coils with their constant presence around him. They were too distant to feel or simply gone now and it unnerved him. This was wrong. Perhaps they could help him make it right.

There was one other thing, other than his sort-of companion and his unsteady roiling mind, that remained constant. And this was the true constant. A steady beacon, that he could not see or hear, but simply felt in a way that he could not describe. A magnetic sort of pull that had him orbiting closer and closer.

It drew him in, out of the depths and dark underbelly of the jungle and the cave systems, towards the strange golden stones, the elegant walls meant to keep out creatures that wished to destroy the beacon. He was not welcome there, not yet, even though he meant no harm. He just needed to be closer.

He didn’t know how he knew that. He just knew it.

[quasieli]

[ID copied from alt text: A digital drawing of a portrait of the Bryn family, characters in my D&D campaign. The family is made up of parents Ferris (he/him) and Delia (she/her), tween daughter Nerisya (she/they), and twin babies Owyn and Aymen (both he/him). Delia and her three kids are sat together on a couch, with Delia holding the two swaddled babies, while Ferris is stood behind the others. Ferris is a young, muscular, pale complexion human man with light brown hair pulled up in a small ponytail, as well as a short chin beard. He is wearing ceremonial armor that is in shades of gold and brown, with an orange heart gem at the center of the chest plate, along with a dark teal half cape, and dark green pants. He is smiling as he looks forward.

Sat on the far left of the couch is Nerisya, a young, thin, pale complexion Half Elf girl with bright red hair pulled up in high ponytails, each with a blue and gold crystal clip in them. She is wearing an orange dress with light blue accents and a pink flower necklace. She is smiling as she looks at her mom. Delia is a young, thin, pale complexion Elf woman with short bright red hair. She is wearing a brown and red dress, with her accessories all adorned with a similar light blue gem, excluding her wedding ring, which has an orange gem in a silver band. She is smiling as she looks towards the viewer. She is sat in three quarters profile, holding her swaddled sons close. Owyn and Aymen are twin pale complexion Half Elf babies with short red-brown hair. They are both resting with cute smiles on their faces. End description.]

Been thinking a lot about the family of one of my player's PC's and just thought itd be real cute to draw the happy family 💙🧡

[locrit-returns]

I wonder how long Morch has been drawing...

[sysig]

Sizing chart of cute: One Size Fits All (Patreon)

[sweetandglovelyart]

A little art/comic announcement: While Knightfall in Dream Land is still in progress and I’m still working on that I’ve also started plotting out the storylines for both the Daroach backstory comic and the Susie redemption arc comic that I want to do.

Before I started drawing Knightfall in Dream Land I did some very simple pencil sketches with dialogue written on them to get an idea for the direction the story of the comic would go in and get an estimate of how long the finished comic would likely be/how many pages it would likely have. That’s the stage I’m at right now with the Daroach comic and Susie comic. I’m planning to start posting actual pages for both of these comics in January 2025, because I want to get a little bit further into Knightfall in Dream Land first before I launch the new comics. The final length may vary a little bit depending on whether or not I decide to add more stuff or change some of the dialogue I’ve plotted out, but when Knightfall in Dream Land is finished I’m estimating that it’ll be around 34-36 pages, so I’d like to maybe get to page 20 or so before I start posting the new comics. Knowing how slowly I update I’ll probably hit page 20 around late December of this year so January is likely when I’ll be launching the new comics.

Like I’ve mentioned before I’m also still very busy with grad school stuff (I’m working very hard to finish up my PhD in the next year and hopefully get a job lined up if I can so I don’t have to live with my parents when I graduate) so comic updates might get even slower than they already are in the coming months. Thank you to everyone who’s been reading the comic even though I update it really slowly, it really means a lot to me to see people enjoying what I’ve created, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new comics too when I eventually start posting them.

[maxthesillyy]

i did a silly thing

@mommyclan and @fen-the-space-dragon (owner of middlepaw)

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

Drawing SOS Chronicles things again

The first time Oliver meets Almitak in "person", things get a little tense. After all, you can't transfer your soul into the body of a willing victim child without some drama.

(Silas and Silvie in the background are not having fun watching their friend get possessed)