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#don’t go dark
steelscorner · 5 months
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BG3 Comic: An Unwelcome Surprise
(Be forewarned: Dark Urge Act 3 Spoilers. Post is tagged. Click “read more” for the full comic.)
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I always find myself wondering about the side conversations that must happen between the other characters while your PC is busy talking to the plot point givers.
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puppetmaster13u · 4 months
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Prompt 160
Constantine might have made a slight mistake. Just an itty bitty one. Okay maybe not an itty bitty one, but it’s not like he usually deals with Realms beings! No one deals with Realms beings if they can help it, and never willingly! 
So maybe he had been a little more drunk than usual, and maybe a tiny bit more desperate. But he’s pretty sure he didn’t do any hanky-panky with anyone. So he’s very confused as to how the fuck, he apparently has not just one, but three Realms-cores?! 
Seriously, what the actual fuck, who looked at him of all people and decided, yeah, he looks like he could be a dad?! Mom!? Whatever the fuck it is. 
What the fuck is he supposed to do in this situation!?
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weltonboys · 1 year
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philadelphia - madisen kuhn
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mer-se · 5 months
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vegan food is boring
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the sandra lynn / fig conversation is driving me Insane. fig saying that sometimes she doesn’t wanna exist as herself at all…not wanting to ask her friends how they see her (because she’s afraid to hear their response) saying that to someone she is a monster and she Cannot stop thinking about it. sandra lynn starting the conversation saying she needs to step up but is also simultaneously taken aback about what fig expresses and doesn’t know how to responds to it and suggests getting ice cream. sandra lynn saying “convincing people they deserve good things is really tough” talking about herself but how it also reflects fig. insane!!
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patheticbatman · 3 months
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I haven't seen any posts about this yet but l've seen some fan art that makes me feel this needs to be said:
Don't forget Leah Sava Jeffries has darker skin when making Annabeth Chase fan art!
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She is much closer to Lupita Nyong'o than Zoe Kravitz when it comes to shading, reflection, and complementary color usage :).
Lighting for dark skin is different on light skin. Light skin gets changed by lighting, and dark skin reflects the lighting. Below is a lovely shot of Nyong'o's character from Wakanda Forever in mourning. The filmmakers emphasize the umber qualities of her skin in contrast to the funereal white and (arguably harsh) light across her shoulder below.
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Try to pick spots that aren't directly in or near the light, and try mixing 3 or more! You can put it into a color mixer online, or even color pick, lower the opacity, and lay the shades over each other until you find one that fits. And of course, the more 'realistic' you want to go with shading and lighting, the more shades you're going to want to be able to explore vivaciously :D.
Let's take a look at the same 3 beautiful actresses I mentioned at the beginning, with a bad color picked area and a better-ish color picked area. (Please keep in mind, these are not perfect comparisons, as I was not able to find pictures of all 3 actresses under the same kind of lighting.)
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Kravitz's has a clear difference between the two, but they aren't too far apart, in comparison to Nyong’o’s and Jeffries’s. Note the dullness in the poorly picked shades as opposed to the better ones. Also keep in mind that while Kravitz has a rosy undertone (at least in that picture - it’s from The Batman, which has stylized coloring) Nyong’o has a slight cool undertone (I can’t pin down quite what, but the picture is definitely not stylized like Kravitz’s).
Jeffries runs more ochre or russet, but neither of those are pink. They are more red than terracotta or umber, but to call Jeffries’s face rosy would be wrong. Err more towards the golden when drawing her.
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^^saved an image from a writing tutorial long ago, but can’t seem to find it. If someone recognizes it, I’ll link it. EDIT: it’s from this post. Thanks @autumnrowancollector ! <3
And also, the darker skin gets, the less likely warm undertones are going to appear. Don't be afraid to use blue or purple or even green on occasion!
Additionally, cool lighting on dark skin is always a win imo.
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(I was going to use that picture of Jeffries as Annabeth by the lightning bolt, but then I realized the lighting on her face doesn’t quite match up with where it should hit from that angle, and I realized they kind of just turned everything bluer, so screenshot time!)
(Also if you want another really great live action example, check out anything Aldis Hodge is in, like Leverage and Black Adam)(and of course there’s Spiderverse <3 but I want to post pictures of Hodge)
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Now, to here’s a list of more experienced people’s advice:
Black facial features & hair
Shading digitally for a (somewhat) monotone Black character
Stylistic choices and places to start looking for inspiration (besides a search engine).
Coloring Black people’s lips
A better coloration tutorial
Also a nice tutorial for Indigenous skin tones, just in case yall want to draw Piper or use this information for other dark skinned characters :).
EDIT: Some actresses who are closer in skintone to use for Annabeth, provided by the lovely @blackfemmecharacterdependency ! If you can’t find a reference for Jeffries in a specific lighting, maybe check out these ladies’ pictures! It’s a reblog, so scroll down.
TLDR: Don’t make Annabeth pink and pale, make her dark and golden.
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yashley · 5 months
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Say something true!
#critical role#ygifs#imogearne#imogen x fearne#when you’re taking a picture of the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and the camera falls back and fucking decks you in the face#fearne going it’s ok you don’t need to confess I know~~ while imogen interrupts to say ‘’you’re a loser’’ they drive me NUTSkljsgdlkjs#also my brain is a little beehive cos these two Started with Fearne being the enabler to darker things while imogen was cautious#to fearne Seeing imogen about to be lost to ruidus and hardveering into panic that the power would never be worth losing her#to imogen hearing fearne hesitate and deny the shard and then telling fearne she should do it anyway#the way these two handle the other's Sways in darkness in such a Knowing way - ‘’Are you sure it wasn’t intentional?’’#there’s like this ping and before it was encouraging and now fearne is scared and imogen is enabling the risk#and it’s like either imogen is silently ensuring laudna’s safety by fearne taking the shard despite any risk#or imogen honestly believes that fearne is stronger even than the power she would embrace. There is no risk. Fearne will conquer this.#so it’s like is it ulterior motives or is it faith or is it hypocrisy or is it all three at once it's so good#imogen spending her entire life running from her power so isn’t it so much easier to tell fearne she can just do it while imogen couldn’t#or is it just her genuinely encouraging fearne from Knowing the aftermath of pursuing the power#but it's like imogen ...... why would fearne choose you over the possibility for power when she's never done that before#and is this insistence/encouragement going to actually reassure fearne or is it going to be another crack#and when they do the ritual fearne asks imogen to be the one to take her out and imogen tries to comfort her by agreeing#and fearne looks on sadly and nods#remembering when she was asked to be the one to take imogen out and all fearne knew was that she couldn’t#anyway imogen's face when fearne said you're in love with me imogen said NOT NOWDSHKJF
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elizakai · 7 months
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An old drawing of them…
I love the amount of stories this dynamic can lead to.
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inoreuct · 3 months
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been thinking about asura zoro lately.
possibly a prince sanji au where sora’s kicked her shitstain of an ex-husband out of the kingdom and his siblings are going through behavioural therapy,,,
at any rate, sanji’s wandering across the grounds one afternoon and he sees someone sitting beneath his favourite apple tree in the middle of the field. he thinks it’s yonji at first, but no— the hair’s too short and the wrong shade of green. less neon than his brother’s electric lime and more like… moss.
the man has one leg propped up with his arm resting on his knee, an apple clutched loosely in his hand. he turns as the grass rustles with sanji’s steps and sanji notes the vertical scar over his left eye that cuts through his brow and down his cheek. “you’re in my spot.”
“hm,” the man says, completely unbothered. he lifts the apple to take a bite and his open robe shifts with the wind, the hilts of the three swords tucked into his sash knocking gently against each other.
sanji narrows his eyes. “move.”
a slow, lazy grin. “no.”
“you—!” the prince is just about ready to boot this guy in the ass. “you do realise who i am, don’t you?”
“no,” the man repeats, shrugging a shoulder and peering down at his apple before taking another bite.
that gives sanji pause. everybody knows who he is. it’s inescapable— queen sora’s kindest son, with the golden hair and a heart to match. ocean eyes and the hands of a chef and legs steadier than any sailor’s. he has a duty to fulfil and an image to uphold, and it’s—
well. it’s just that sometimes, he thinks that he wasn’t made for this life at all— that he was meant to be out there, on the ocean, skipping over the waves with the wind in his hair and the sun on his brow, feeling the grit of sand between his teeth. he has satisfied himself with the comforts of royal life, with the orchards and the kitchens, but something pulls at him still. it tugs his heart towards the coast and whispers for him to shed the courtly graces he wears as tangibly as the cloak over his shoulders.
sanji is quiet as he reaches up, swallowing over the soft click of the clasp before red velvet falls into his hand. he drops it to the grass and lets it pool, puts one palm on the ground before settling against worn, rough bark and letting the pattern press into the skin of his spine.
“it’s peaceful here.” the man’s voice is low, slipping beneath the soft sigh of wind. “quiet.”
“it hadn’t always been,” sanji says, before he can stop himself. he has no reason to be doing this— to be saying anything at all, much less sitting down. he should be yelling for the guards and then taking this guy out himself. he’s a stranger who’d somehow made it onto royal grounds, through the extensive defences they had; one with three swords and scars, sanji reminds himself as he eyes the gnarly line of pearly tissue running diagonally down the man’s chest. he’s, by all definitions, a threat.
and yet, sanji hasn’t felt anything at all. no hostility, no fear— just… stillness, if he had to put a word to it. a sort of calm.
“the king… he was cruel,” he continues softly. “he treated my siblings and i like lab rats to be used. my mother was nothing more than a pretty thing to fill a space beside him. this palace, this kingdom used to be filled with war and pain and noise.” sanji chances a glance up to find the man already looking at him, and he quickly looks away. “sometimes, he’d come back from war stinking of blood and death. even worse was when he’d bring my siblings with him. he forced them to fight, see— didn’t even give them a choice, because of his experiments.”
the words are bitter as he spits them out, and sanji feels his hair bunch when he tilts his head back against the tree and blows out a breath. “i was always the failure.” the grass is damp with dew as he rubs a few blades between his fingers. “the weak one. the useless one. and i was the one who dragged him outside the city gates and told him that if i ever saw him again i’d take his head.”
he’s no longer as angry about it, he thinks. sanji has spent enough of his life being angry. the thought just carries a muted tone now, satisfied and a little victorious but also resigned— sometimes he looks at fathers in the squares and the markets, carrying their children on their shoulders and indulging them in the smallest of things, overpriced candy and tag on the dusty cobblestones, and his eyes burn. he should have had that. he never did, and he never will.
sanji lets his eyebrows flash up, swallowing against the tightness in his chest. “i don’t know why i’m telling you all this, anyway,” he says with a light, forced laugh. “i don’t even know who the hell you are.”
“nobody important,” the man hums. “not yet. but one day i’ll be the greatest swordsman in the world.”
the prince believes it. he feels something now, at least— a presence of sorts, like pressure from all sides, present but not pushing. just there. “i think… i want to get out of here.”
again, he doesn’t know why he says it. he has the urge to slap a hand over his mouth as soon as he does, in fact. because everything’s fine now, everything’s finally going well; judge is gone, his siblings are safe, his mother is safe, and he should be happy. he is happy. he gets to cook all he wants and he’s—
he’s not. he’s not happy. he wants to go, wants to— to grab a boat and disappear, sail to the edge of the horizon and then beyond. it aches in his chest like someone’s squeezing his heart, fingertips digging into tough muscle, and he rubs the heel of his hand through the fine weave of his shirt.
the man bites into his apple again, and the crisp crunch cuts through the still air. sanji lets his eyes slip shut.
“where do you want to go?” the man asks.
sanji laughs, a soundless exhale. “the all blue. it’s an ocean with every kind of fish you could imagine and then some. i want to open a restaurant. a place of my own where nobody will ever go hungry.”
a pause, and then the man turns to look at him. “do you know why i’m here?”
“no.” sanji cracks an eye open, sighing impatiently. “why?”
“the change. all this place has known for years was turmoil and war and chaos. and then suddenly… it all went silent.” he eyes sanji unreadably. “somebody took notice.”
somebody, huh? if sanji’s dealing with a religious nutcase, he might just burst into laughter. or knock this guy out. maybe both. “you believe in god, then?”
“no,” the man says flatly. “and even if one did exist, they didn’t help you then. they won’t help you now.”
the blonds’s eyes narrow as he sits up straight and slowly raises an eyebrow. “if that’s supposed to be a threat, mosshead, i’m not scared of you.”
“mosshead?!” the other splutters, the first sign of real human emotion sanji’s seen on him, and sanji laughs.
“it fits!”
“it’s—”
“blasphemous? disrespectful?” sanji teases, somehow more at ease than he’s felt in ages. he doesn’t know who this man is, and who he is doesn’t matter— he’s free to run his mouth, and he damn well will.
“you should be scared of me, you know,” the man says, voice gritty, and sanji smirks.
“why so?”
and— oh.
that presence from before increases exponentially, until he feels sweat bead beneath his collar. dirt gathers beneath his fingernails as he scrabbles backwards, instinctive, throat bobbing as he counts three, four, six arms, and three heads, and three grey eyes glinting like watered steel. wind whips through the clearing, shaking the branches of the tree— sanji reminds himself to close his mouth as he sits beneath the rustling, as black tendrils of shadow snake through the air, swelling around the man’s silhouette, silky and molten. it’s not just that overwhelming, omnipresent aura; he’s got to be two heads taller than a normal man at least.
sanji’s breath is stuck in his throat. and then he looks down; that half-eaten apple is still there, shiny and red. the man’s swords — nine of them, now — clatter gently by his hips, and his earrings jingle with something that almost sounds like gentle laughter, and his hair is still impossibly green.
“…is this supposed to be intimidating?” he offers, climbing to his feet with a bored cock of his hip. “i mean, it’s impressive and all, mossy, don’t get me wrong, but—”
the man’s form snaps back to normal in an instant, leaving him with an almost comical look of disbelief on his face. “you’re fuckin’ crazy.”
“i’m traumatised,” sanji corrects, cackling. “after my bastard of a sperm donor, i doubt i could be scared of much else. besides, you haven’t done anything but talk to me. that’s a lot more kindness than most people can say they’ve shown.”
he watches the emotions flash across the man’s face like a play-by-play until his strong features finally settle on something not dissimilar to determination. “we’re going.”
“huh?” the sudden subject change throws him. “where?”
“the all blue,” is the impatient answer as the stranger crosses his arms. “didn’t you say you wanted to go?”
“yes, but—” sanji makes a series of exasperated noises as he tries to find his words. “i can’t just— go! i have responsibilities, i need to—”
“you need to be free,” the man grunts, and sanji stops short. “can’t keep a bird caged and expect it to be happy.”
the prince bites his lip, heart pounding. this is crazy. this is insane, it’s how kidnappings happen, he shouldn’t even he considering this. “…if, even if we were to go— how would we get there? how would we even find it?”
“we’ll figure it out?” the man pins him with a look that says duh, like it’s no big deal. “i know a witch who’s a navigator, she owes me a favour. and a guy who works in a shipyard. it’ll work.” he looks like he’s about to start tapping his foot, but then his expression softens. “one day,” he says, eyes skating across sanji’s face. “we go for one day, sunrise to sundown, and if you don’t like it i’ll bring you right back.”
sanji’s chest aches. his breath trembles against his teeth. “why?”
his stranger swallows, gaze tilting down as his fingers drift to the hilt of the white sword by his side, like it’s a comfort. “you aren’t scared of me.” his eye is a flash of silver as he looks up again, bottled starlight and iron. “maybe that’s more kindness than i’m usually shown, too.”
maybe sanji’s losing his mind. maybe he’d lost it a long time ago. because he finds himself nodding slowly and breathing, “okay.”
a sharp, sure nod. “we leave tomorrow. settle your affairs and meet me down by the beach at dawn.”
“alright.”
sanji watches the man turn and amble away, in no apparent, rush, before a thought strikes him. “wait!”
green hair shifts in the sunlight as he twists back around, one scarred palm by his ear. “hah?”
“what’s your name?” sanji yells across the clearing, and the smile that’s sent his way is blinding.
“meet me and i’ll tell you, curls!” the man yells back, and then he’s gone. just— disappears, like he’d been a figment of imagination.
an apple core tips against sanji’s ankle, pale and clean.
(sora takes one look at his face when he asks and lets him go.
“you’d always been restless,” she tells him gently, as she helps him pack his things into a burlap satchel and sets his spice tins carefully into their case. she says he’d been loud even as a baby, wailing right out of the womb with eyes the blue of cornflowers and summer skies and the water, riotous and gentle and vast like his heart.
she sends him off with a kiss to his forehead, hands cupping his face as she smiles against his skin, and this time sanji welcomes the burn in his eyes.
he finds zoro by the beach like something out of a fairytale, skin bronzed in the light of a new day, glowing with the orange dancing off the waves. he has a boat waiting, barely big enough for two, wrist draped over his sword hilts as he yawns and scratches at his head, and sanji grins so hard his face hurts.
his palms on the lip of sealed wood have his heart pounding hard enough to feel it against his ribs, his shoes sinking into the sand as they push the dinghy out to sea and jump on, and he shoves his hand in the water just because he can.
“zoro,” the man says abruptly, two extra shadows framing him in the sunrise like a mirage, and sanji’s lips curl up at the edge. “that’s my name.”
“okay, mossy,” he sing-songs, and bites down a laughing scream when zoro rocks the boat so hard he nearly falls out.
he does tell zoro his name, when he decides that he’ll stay. they’re still on their little boat; it’s sunset now, and the green-haired man is taking up all the space in his other form, stretched out with his hands folded behind his head. “i’m sanji, by the way,” he offers, offhand, and watches zoro crack an eye open to grunt in acknowledgment.
he pretends not to see the soft smile that the other man flips over to hide. zoro hardly ends up using it anyway, the brute.
sanji really doesn’t mind.)
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why-the-heck-not · 23 days
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tulips !! they’re underrated
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heirhonkful · 1 month
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Made my clownsona into a Clown Corps agent.
Close ups on text below cut
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hazelnut-u-out · 3 months
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Somehow never caught this before, but does this imply Birdperson’s mom killed his dad and he remembers seeing it?
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The fact this memory is somehow tied to Blood Ridge in his mind makes me wonder if that’s part of why he didn’t accept Rick’s advances— maybe even subconsciously. If that’s what this implies, no wonder he had commitment issues. Makes the shit with Tammy hit differently, too…
I know it’s a throw away moment, but I really hope we get a follow up on that… Regardless of what that memory is, it’s dark shit.
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hallowclave · 5 months
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She para on my humans till I [GRUESOME SOUNDS OF BUG FUELED VIOLENCE]
Redraw of a skitter design I did a little over a year ago, comparison under the read more
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And the sketch. As a little treat. Just for you.
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vanhelsingapologist · 2 months
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I tell you how you kill me in my dreams.
Dima was visited by the local vampire. She will bite him back, next time. Alt version under the cut.
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time-slink · 1 year
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ok fine. caved and painted him
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bakubunny · 5 months
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thinkin abt daddy!izuku, who you never anticipated would be a daddy dom. he hasn’t even told you yet, but you can just tell by the way he talks and treats you. how he takes the lead and “helps” you when you’re perfectly capable. the way he insists on brushing your hair or tying your shoes to “pamper” you. his tone of voice when he speaks to you - not patronizing, but there’s something you can’t put your finger on that almost makes you slip into that familiar headspace. how he constantly holds your hand when you’re out of the house or encourages your needy behavior when you apologize for it. “sweetheart” becomes “sweet pea” and “princess” over time. then one day, he slips up and says, “here little one, let me help you.” your head snaps in his direction and his cheeks are already flooding with color like yours. let’s just say his slip of the tongue lead to a long discussion that ended with you naked in his arms.
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