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Mu11berry last won the day on December 23 2018

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About Mu11berry

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    The Astounded

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    Tear Shrine
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    Everything that is cute

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  1. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    @NickyLOL48 Thanks! You're brilliant @daeva_agas Thank you! I actually didn't mind him not meeting a partner in the game, there was already so much going on, but if somebody made a spin-off or something it'd be a cute option to explore ______________________________________________ Heh, I've fallen a bit behind again. But this time only a LITTLE. Here's a Te'ijalahad aesthetic which I was working on forever and a half ago but I lost the original file with the layers and I'm not about to try to edit the png so take it: And here is a pic of Rhen and Dameon in battle, which is something I've wanted to try drawing forever so I'm very excited:
  2. Mu11berry

    The Changeling (Updated(!) -- 1/7/2011)

    I just wanted to say, in case you ever see this, that I reread this story all the time (last night being the latest time haha) and it's fantastic. The plot is so compelling, I hold my breath every time (and you stopped updating at probably the most dramatic point possible, aaahhh!! I will never know relief), your oc's are so memorable and creative, and I love how in touch you are with all the characters' emotions! Honestly your writing has had a huge influence on mine, both because you were brave enough to post this kind of thing and because it's just so memorable and emotional, it just lives in you, you know? Well, maybe you don't know because you wrote it so it might be hard to know what an impact it has to someone else, but just know this story means a lot to me and I'm really grateful to be able to reread it Also, if you ever do end up writing more and wonder if anyone would read it, I WOULD!!!! And I know there would be others too, this story is a classic
  3. Mu11berry

    In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

    I've ranted a couple places about the new piece I accidentally wrote, and I finally got it posted here so yay! It's chapter 10, The Opposite of Solitude, and you can find it on the first page after A Little Help and before Getting a Place. I've felt like something was missing between those two chapters for a while now, so it's nice to finally know what it was. Also, I've been wanting to address some of the stuff I talk about in The Opposite of Solitude since the beginning, but it always felt I was intruding or just not the right time so I'm really excited this idea finally wrote itself. If it's easier to read on fanfiction.net than to go back to the first page and find the new chapter, here's a link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12094251/10/In-Pieces
  4. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    Today I have for this thread a gift for a friend who loves te'ijalahad, the last Aveyond 31 day challenge piece, and also a fluff which was made as a Christmas gift art trade thing and which I am obviously late to post here. But this time I am only five days late! So yay. The Te'ijalahad gift: #THIRTY ONE Aveyond 31 day fandom challenge (it only took me like a year and a half or something completely not ridiculous like that XD): NOTP of AV4 Christmas gift for AmayaSakuragi11
  5. Mu11berry

    Alicia or Talia? Let the shipping war begin!

    Okay, as a science nerd I am obligated to tell you guys that Scrivener is right, red + blue = purple is NOT how genetics works. What you're thinking of is either incomplete dominance or codominance, and neither would work to make purple out of red and blue. A gene being "dominant" means it produces a pigment, and recessive usually means it doesn't, or it is masked, inhibited, etc. In some cases a certain amount of gene product is required to make something appear a certain color. So if, for example, you had a flower with one copy of gene that produced red pigment (which would make it dominant) and one that produced no pigment (effectively white, and recessive) then you could get a pink flower because there wouldn't be enough red pigment to spread throughout the whole organism, and THAT would be incomplete dominance. Red and blue are both pigment so that's not what's happening here (and even if you headcanoned that blue somehow works like white in Aia or something similarly crazy which changed the laws of physics, you still wouldn't get that pastel color that Rhen has). Codominance would be when some cells/hair follicles/whatever the thing in question is produce the pigment encoded by one gene, and others end up producing the pigment made by the other. So if this was the case, you would have some hairs that were red and some that were blue. Still not purple, and definitely not pastel purple with blue ends. TL;DR, Alicia is definitely Rhen's mother, and if the science isn't enough honestly just Rhen's personality should be, she couldn't possibly be anyone else's daughter. Science and the inevitable aside, Alicia already lost pretty much everything, it just seems wrong to take away her daughter too, just to make a ship headcanon. As for the Talia/Devin or Alicia/Devin ships, I can see the appeal of both of them, and I think canonly we're supposed to be able to. Devin actually doesn't fall in love with Alicia during the quest, he states outright that he and Talia were in love before she became the dreamer. (Side note, I'm pretty sure his age is never stated in the games and that the only hints we have are that he must be older than 13 in the beginning since he's already named, but younger than ~16 because he doesn't go through his growth spurt until the 3 years at the collegium, which would make a max age difference of 2 years, not 3. But if anyone has screenshots that say otherwise I'm interested.) Devin fell in love with Alicia after the quest, and it was probably a natural progression from the friendship and respect that developed between them during the quest. I think him and Alicia were good for each other; they made a heckin awesome daughter, and Devin seems to have learned more about communication and taking others' autonomy into account from his time with her. I like him and Talia, but he really wasn't great at doing those things with her during the quest, and Alicia is the sort of person who would put her foot down and make those things happen. As for what Alicia got out of it, they both love fun and adventure and have this strong hero streak, and I really believe they were happy together during what little time they had. And after AV1, of course, Devin and Talia get to be friends again and I think that's really sweet. I think Devin would need a century or two to process his grief, and honestly Talia probably would too, but I do like to think that eventually they get together again, after they have figured everything out and learned how to communicate and important things like that.
  6. http://fav.me/dcaynxg 

    This gives me life and I can't use the relevant emoji on DA so :kawaii-love:

  7. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    Just SEVEN more inktober pieces! So I'll share those all today and then only have all the pieces I did after October to catch up on XD Prickly Stretch Thunder Gift Double Jolt Slice (the last inktober prompt!!!) Yay!! Inktober complete! And it didn't even take me 50 years XD
  8. Mu11berry

    Ahriman's Prophecy (REBOOT)

    Awesome! I'm excited!!
  9. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    How long is too long for an art thread? Anyway here are more pics because I am really so far behind it's ridiculous: Scorched Breakable Drain Expensive Muddy Chop I think two more posts like this will catch me up. The end is in sight at last XD
  10. egg2.jpg?width=192&height=301

    This egg would probably hatch into something cool if you brought it to Moo Hatchery.

  11. Mu11berry

    In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

    Today is the day of my birth! So I am updating! I'm really fond of this next little piece, actually. And, it is set towards the end of fall, and right now is towards the end of fall, so for once my timing is right! __________________________________________________________________ Innocence First off, tinctura hypericum is a powerful healing item in the game, maybe you remember it Tinctura in real life is a medicinal mixture and hypericum is a flowering plant which actually does have healing properties (which I know because I'm a nerd), and it tends to react badly with other pharmaceuticals. So now when Dameon does his nerd babbling thing, you will know what he's talking about. Which actually isn't necessary to understanding the story but it's nice to not be confused, yeah? This is a story about Rhen's innocence and her trying to reconcile her really very gentle and kind nature with the violence she has seen and done. Sometimes we see these things as mutually exclusive and I think Rhen would have to work through having both in her— and because of Dameon's experiences, he would be able to help. Happens in Thais, before Aesma. ____________________________________________________________________ The problem was, he had very soft lips, like marionbells or apple blossoms, and she had very rough hands, and she didn't understand— of all the places he could have kissed, her forehead, maybe, or her cheeks, or her mouth— but instead he always chose the dirtiest, roughest part of her and it was— was— Bewildering. Ma had always told her to wash her hands. And she had been right, Rhen's hands were always filthy. Rhen had used them to pick apples and catch butterflies and she couldn't remember a time there hadn't been dirt under her nails. When she was a slave she'd scrubbed walls and floors until she didn't have nails anymore. She'd smashed spiders with her palms and got their gooey guts all over her fingers, and nobody had been there to tell her to wash them. She'd rinsed the gore off in muddy streams and dried her hands on her ragged smock and wondered if she'd ever hear Ma's scolding again. And when she'd had to she'd grabbed a stick in her hands and swung it— the splinters she got were for Eddy and she didn't regret them but she knew they weren't beautiful. Violence was never anything but monstrous. Except, maybe— Maybe— She had learned how to make swords sing and she got more than splinters from that; cuts and bruises that faded away and rough calluses that didn't. And it was those which Dameon always kissed with his flower petal lips, like they meant something. I had no idea how skilled you were with a sword. Her skill surprised most people, nobody expected ferocity from her. They didn't know what she'd sacrificed to become like this, they didn't understand she fought because she had to, because no one else would, because somebody had to stand between the monsters and the helpless, and if that made her a monster, too, then— She would be what she must. Deadly and beautiful at the same time. Deadly she had heard before. Beautiful was— Familiar in the same way a bird's song was after a long, cold winter, something she had known once and forgotten. It was winter now, or nearly winter. It might as well always be winter in Thais, there were no birds and the only green things were the carefully kept trees growing in straight lines in the courtyards. They didn't look much older than Rhen was herself; their branches were still spindly and they stood hardly taller than Galahad. Some stubborn gardener had planted them after the demon attack, and had fought all the elements to keep them alive. That sort of fighting was— it wasn't really monstrous, was it? She couldn't bring herself to call it monstrous. There was another word for it. If she was Elini she might know what it was, but she was just Rhen and she didn't know, so instead she stood and watched the stupid trees swaying in the wind and wondered. It was Dameon who finally found her. He was good at that. "Hi, Rhen," he said softly as he came up next to her. "Hi, Dameon." She turned to face him. "Finished shopping already?" He smiled and swung his pack off his shoulder to show her. "We have plenty of cassia leaves now," he said, briefly touching the neat bundle he had wrapped them in, "and they had tinctura hypericum. I don't know where they got the flowers, nothing seems to grow here. We'll have to be careful not to take it with anything else, it can react badly and— Rhen?" he interrupted himself. "Is something wrong?" She had been staring at the trees again. She forced herself to look away from them and tried to smile. "No," she said, in a tone that was meant to be convincing but was mostly tired. "Go on, I'm listening. You were talking about flowers." She had heard something about flowers, and nothing growing, and then she had lost track. "Flowers…" he repeated slowly, looking at her and then at the trees and furrowing his brow. Apparently that hadn't been his main topic. "Well, I— I couldn't find any flowers, but—" he cleared his throat almost nervously, which wasn't exactly the reaction she had expected, and then, "I did find something for you." He was rummaging around in his pack, and he pulled out something small and leather. "I— I noticed your old gloves were wearing out, and these looked like they would fit you. They do have flowers on the ends." His ears were pink as he held them out for her to take. There were little blue asters embroidered along the wrist seams. They were very pretty, which seemed strange for something made for a fighter, but it was sort of— nice. And she had never been eloquent, she wasn't sure what to say, but she managed to stammer out, "Er, thanks, Dameon," and then— He smiled at her, that stupid sappy smile that made her cheeks hot, and he took one of her hands in his and gently pressed it to his stupid soft lips— which was— which was— "Why do you do that?" she asked, searching his face. He tilted his head at her. "Do what?" She was very warm and probably very pink and her heart seemed to have forgotten its regular rhythm and was now inventing its own wild pulse, but she was stubborn and she managed to say, without squeaking, "Why do you kiss my hands?" There was a pause while he thought— his silences were familiar now, his slow and careful ways were soothing, and she found her breath as he brushed her hair back behind her ear. "I guess because— your hands do so much for others— and for— me." He looked at her with those deep brown eyes and that serious little frown and she clutched at the gloves. "I just want to— take care of them." And he took both her hands, and pressed them to his heart the same way she might have pressed a marionbell to hers when she was a small child with dirt under her nails— Deadly and beautiful. He cherished even the parts of her that were frightening, and the word for that was— Was— "Well, you could kiss my mouth, you know." And he did, so, so softly she might have thought it was spring and the flowers had grown again.
  12. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    Here are some more!! Cruel Whale Guarded Clock Weak Angular Bottle Aaand I should probably be done now, I really don't want to overwhelm anyone's page but I'm so behind on sharing art here, ahaha. Soon. Soon I will be caught up. Maybe,
  13. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    @Ishti Awww, thank you!! That's such a nice thing to say and I appreciate it a whole heckin lot @NickyLOL48 Thank you!! Frederick is red cuz he's blushing at your compliment _______________________________ Here's the next few! Drooling (very slight AV4 spoiler. Just one kind of silly line but if you haven't played it and like to go in blind then feel free to skip) Exhausted (another av4 one, could be considered another minor spoiler? Not sure but skip if you're so inclined) Star Precious Flowing 1/3 done! Just 21 more to go ahaha
  14. Mu11berry

    In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

    Happy Halloween!! Here is an update that has nothing to do with Halloween!!! (If you're looking for something more in line with the spirit of the day, go reread "Me Too" on the first page, that's all I've got, haha. One day I'll write a oneshot actually meant for Halloween but not today, I've got candy to eat) Before we begin, I wanted to share that this collection is complete on fanfiction.net now and I'm really excited about it Also! This!! Is one of my favorite pieces, I'm very excited to share it. _________________________________ Trembling Happens in the Blasted Lands, probably on the way to the Dark Caverns. I have them camping on the way there and this piece starts in the dark hours of the morning. You don’t know it yet but this is the piece you’ve been waiting for, so enjoy this dameonxrhen okay thanks _____________________________________ It had grown in him so quietly he couldn’t say when it began; maybe yesterday, maybe weeks or even months ago. Parts of it he thought he could trace to that first moment her unconquerable eyes met his. Sometimes it felt like— like it had been growing in him his whole life. But that didn’t make any sense. It was only safe to say that it was growing, and— and it was uprooting his old ideas and fears. It was destroying him and building him over again. He didn’t know how. He wanted to tell her, and that didn’t make any sense either. Already she was stripping him of every defense, and defense was all he knew. Could he survive being that— exposed? Surely it was foolishness to try. And yet— And yet he had tried, so many times, to tell her. The words, if there were any, eluded him. He told her she was deadly and beautiful, and that— didn’t even begin to explain it. He told her about the stars and the rain and the sunrise and every achingly lovely thing he could think of, but none of it compared to— to— He told her she was brave. And wise. He tried to remind her that she was capable, and strong, and worthy of every happiness. And mostly, he just smiled at her and hoped somehow she understood the strange growing thing that was happening to his soul. Sometimes he thought it had something to do with her smile. She had a small thin little mouth but somehow her smile, her real smile, was as big as the crescent moon. He wished she could always have a reason to smile like that, and to sometimes be that reason himself was— was— Dameon shook his head and rolled over on his sleeping mat. He was just going to make it worse— stronger. Better? Sometimes he thought it was the way she laughed. She had two laughs, one muffled and shy like a fairy bell, and one that was startling, loud and happy and unrestrained. More than once, he caught himself telling jokes, real jokes, terrible jokes, and he wasn’t sure if she laughed because he told them or if he told them because she laughed. Her laugh, both laughs, made him want to laugh, and that was— Was— It was time to wake up, and stop— thinking. He pushed the blanket off himself and sat up and immediately regretted everything because it was cold. Too cold to wake up into. He looked up at where Te’ijal was keeping watch. She had the bottle of sunscreen in her lap and was rubbing creamy dollops of it onto her bare arms, apparently unaffected by the frigid air. The fire was dying. He couldn’t blame Te’ijal for not noticing; it wouldn’t make much difference to her. Galahad, on the other hand, had his blanket pulled up over his head and his knees curled into his chest. He looked rather like a very large and very cold and miserable cat, and rather unlike a gallant and fearless knight. Dameon would never tell him that, but he might tell Rhen, and then she might laugh and that would be— Anyway, Elini and Lars also looked cold and miserable. Pirate John’s teeth were chattering and Mad Marge looked— murderous, actually. If he didn’t stoke the fire soon she would probably kill them all. He groggily reached for his boots and pulled them on. They were cold. Everything was cold. He stood up and draped his blanket over his shoulders, and then clumsily stepped over Lars and around Galahad. Te’ijal glanced back at him and then down at the paladin, her mouth curving into a smile that was either fondness or mischief. Dameon was sure he didn’t want to know which. Elini pulled her feet up as he passed her mat. Rhen’s feet were already pulled up. He wouldn’t have known she was even on her mat except the shivering mound at the other end of it. He hesitated, and then— And then he knelt beside her, and put his blanket over hers. It would be warm enough soon with the fire anyway, and— when he pulled the blanket over her she made a little contented noise, like a hum, and he felt warmer already. If he could just tell her. He found the stick designated for coal-stirring and poked at what was left of the fire. Tiny sparks floated up from it like fairy dust. Fairy dust was supposed to reveal the truth, maybe he could just swallow some, and the words would come out. And then— and then— he didn’t know what came next. Maybe she would kill him, like his mother had his father. Maybe that’s how it always went. He pushed more sticks into the coals and watched them smoke and then ignite and slowly, quietly— burn, burn, burn. The sparks travelled up towards the sky, as if trying to join the stars there in infinite space. For once it was not overcast. That would probably change before the morning was over, if the slight but persistent breeze that was playing with the fire had anything to say about it. He might as well make breakfast. He made his way to the brown pack near John, and carefully pulled cooking utensils out of it, trying not to wake the sleeping pirate. John made a sound like a snort and Dameon froze, but then he rolled over and settled back into an easy breathing rhythm and Dameon realized it was just a snore. The oatmeal was in the pack by Elini. Elini was “rather weary” of oatmeal, she had informed them all yesterday morning. But Dameon didn’t know what else to make. He was so tired, and cold. Shivering, he put the oatmeal in a pot over the fire, and poured in water from his pouch. The sun was almost up now; the sky was glowing orange. And there, slowly but steadily approaching, were the gray clouds, painted by the dawn with pink and orange and vivid violet. His mother used to tell him she missed seeing the sun rise. Maybe she was watching the sky now, too. Maybe she didn’t care anymore. “Dameon?” He started, and whirled around to find that Rhen was awake and up, and she was holding her brush out towards him with a hesitating little frown. “Can you help me with my hair today? It’s too cold to do anything.” He nodded, and reached out to close his hand around the brush, but the corners of her mouth curved up and her little calloused fingers wrapped around his hand instead, and she pulled him to her mat to sit. It was easy to follow her. “Rhen—” he began as he bent his knees to sit behind her— he would tell her now, before he lost his nerves— if he could only find the words— he had no idea what to say after her name. “Rhen—” “Yes, Dameon?” she said, picking up his blanket and pulling it around her shoulders. “I— I—” he swallowed. He was shaking and he didn’t want his voice to shake, this was too important. “I— I hope you feel— warmer now.” That— was definitely not what he meant. And he definitely felt warmer now, a strange, trembling warmth that quivered in his stomach. She laughed, the shy, fairy bell laugh. “I do. Thank you for the blanket.” He managed some sort of inarticulate hum in response, and busied himself with untangling her hair. It was so curly in the mornings, twisting and looping over itself and refusing to be separated. It was stubborn. And soft, and— one of his favorite things. That feeling was swelling in his chest again. It had very little to do with her smile or her laugh, really. It was more about— about— something in the way she turned to him to help her. She trusted him, and it was exactly that simple and that perplexing. I think you have a good heart, Dameon. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he knew that he wanted it to be true. He wanted to be someone she could depend on in this world of inconstancy. There was always a particularly obstinate tangle just at the back of her neck. He held it carefully and tried to separate it with his fingers. He could depend on her. She had proven it more than once. He was used to trusting only himself, he wasn’t sure how to let her in. He shouldn’t let her in— but she fit so softly into the ragged edges of his broken life. He was used to falling. He wasn’t used to the way she caught him, every time. He wanted to tell her. Maybe it was just “thank you,” maybe that’s what all this ridiculous feeling was about. He opened his mouth but the words were sticking to the back of his throat. He swallowed a few times, and what he managed to say was— “You— you’re— you’re still shivering, Rhen. Here, take my cloak.” He put the brush in his lap and swung the cloak off his shoulders and onto hers. She tried to protest, “No, you’ll be cold. Dameon!” She had a very good scolding voice, but he couldn’t have shivered if he tried. His cheeks were burning. “I’m fine. Sun Priest and all that,” he assured her, leaning forward to say it into her ear. She sensed the teasing in his voice and she laughed again even though the joke was stupid. He was getting much better— or maybe much worse— at stupid jokes. He finished brushing through her hair and carefully began separating it into three purple bunches. He remembered he had been surprised to learn braids needed only three sections, they looked more intricate than that, like they had six, maybe seven parts at least. But he had learned that the simplest things were sometimes the strongest. Rhen was the strongest thing he knew. Very strong, physically; she could probably wrestle a dragon and come out on top. But also— There was another sort of strength, a quieter, softer strength that lived not in her arms but in her self. She always— helped. He remembered, she had carried Theodore nearly the whole way to the Gentle Children's School. She didn't have to. The child could walk. But he laughed so hard when she swung him over her shoulders, the little warlock was completely enamored with her. Dameon had taken care of Theodore during battles. He had no idea how children worked, especially witch children. But Theodore hadn't seemed to mind, he just talked to Dameon like a grown-up. A very small, very strange grown-up. He told Dameon once that he used to think it was horribly wicked of him to not be wicked, and that he’d wished for his mother's sake he could be mean just once, but that now he thought, maybe, it was okay to be kind, even if sometimes it was hard. Dameon had nodded and ruffled the boy's hair like he’d seen Rhen do sometimes, and he’d thought to himself that these were heavy subjects for someone so young. Rhen was always kind when it was hard. Maybe especially then. She was fearless, and gentle, and— not really fearless at all, just brave. If he knew courage like that, he could— he could tell her. He was so afraid of what that level of trust could do to him, he remembered how it felt to be destroyed by someone he depended on. He knew what it was to burn to ashes. He was learning what it was to grow from them. Over and under, he weaved her hair around itself as carefully as he could. He wished he had words sufficient to tell her what he was thinking, or— or feeling. There were words, he could feel them burning in his lungs. But he couldn’t get them out through his mouth, any more than he could cough up his ribs. Over, and under— “Dameon,” a tired little voice protested. “You’ve got to braid my hair more tightly than that!” "Oh, Rhen—” "What if we get into a battle, and it comes loose?" "Well, I—" he twirled a lock of lavender around his fingers— it was wispy and fine and soft enough to kiss, and certainly much, much too delicate to pull tight, and— before he could catch himself he had leaned forward and brought the lock up to his mouth— he had been wrong, it was much, much too soft to kiss, and he was drowning in the words that were burning in his lungs— he dropped it onto her back again, and cleared his throat and tried to say lightly, "Then— I suppose I will have to— braid it again." She laughed, because he had made another incredibly stupid joke, and he felt less like drowning and more like floating and he smiled and, carefully, pulled the strands more firmly against her head. She passed him her hair ribbon, and he took it and wrapped it around the end of her braid. He had to tell her. He was going to burst, and spill over everything— it was better to get it over with. His hands were trembling but he had finished tying the ribbon somehow, and she was turning to face him— "Rhen!” She turned wide violet eyes towards him and he tried to compose himself, and continued more softly, “Rhen, I— I have— I—" he didn't know how to communicate what was happening in him, but he had to say it, to tell her, somehow— "I have— an abundance of— feelings— for you—" and they were holding him in place, shaking him— "strong feelings, and you— I am undone." He swallowed, but his voice still wavered like the light of the fire in the wind. "I don't know how to tell you. You're everything. You— I— Rhen," he was pleading now, "do you understand at all?" She looked up at him with her brow furrowed— why, why was he doing this? She was rejecting him, as well she should; she was braver than him, stronger than him, more than him, and he felt himself crumbling under her gaze, could almost hear the pieces of himself falling around him. He wouldn't feel this here, with her right there, he had to get away. He tried to stand but she was leaning towards him, her eyes like two soft lights, and he couldn't move. Her hands were taking his and he was trembling and his cheeks were wet, couldn't she see that she was killing him? "Why are you running from me?" She was saying quietly, but he couldn't speak, didn't know what the answer was except that he hurt, and he didn't want to cry in front of her but he already was— "I'm— sorry, Rhen— I shouldn't have said anything—" She was leaning closer, her little hands trailing up his arms and behind his neck— what was she doing— he could feel his heart pounding through every inch of him— Her quick breaths were tickling his mouth, and he couldn’t breathe, and— And— Oh. He couldn’t feel anything except her, little lips softly saying everything his couldn't, all without making a sound, and slowly, naturally like rain falling or wind blowing he was relaxing into her, his hands found her waist and he cradled her shaking form against his chest. And their fears scattered like shadows in the timid light of the breaking day.
  15. Mu11berry

    Mu11berry's Art-ish Looking Things

    It's the end of October! So here are some inktober drawings! I'm gonna post just a few at a time cuz I don't want to overwhelm anyone's computer trying to load the monstrosity that is all 31 of my pathetic attempts at inking, haha I decided to try to use the "official" prompt list or whatever, and draw Aveyond characters with it. First prompt is poisonous, so here is Frederick le Mew of Ahriman's Prophecy in his slime form. Cuz that's the first thing I thought of when I read poisonous XD Next, Tranquil♥ Roasted Spell Chicken Aaaand I think I should stop myself here before I get carried away, happy Halloween everyone!