Forwarded from Tales from a basement.
From Tales' Instagram!
Remember that I do Q&A on Instagram every now and then, to share more info, trivia and stories about my characters and the ongoing campaign. ♡
Remember that I do Q&A on Instagram every now and then, to share more info, trivia and stories about my characters and the ongoing campaign. ♡
Forwarded from Doomed but just enough.
I should be proud of being alive instead. Proud of not being violent, proud of not giving up, proud of being able to appreciate people, proud of not being apologetic for existing.
I should feel like a fucking hero just for blessing this fucking world with my fucking presence.
I should feel like a fucking hero just for blessing this fucking world with my fucking presence.
Forwarded from Doomed but just enough.
These are the things that define me. I am this. I am a person who spares no effort to show love to others, a supporter, someone people can confide in, someone who's generous with compliments and smiles because the world would be a much better place if we invested a little more energy in showing support and making someone's life a little more bearable.
Forwarded from Tales from a basement.
Another doodle because I had a rough day. Will probably redraw this later too.
I think a lot about this moment, the moment the Dervish rose from the dirt in the woods, where the corpse of a young tiefling had been crudely abandoned, bloody and bruised. But the body standing in the moonlight a few hours later was covered by a web of scars instead, had a complex sygil in the middle of chest, and was hosting a new, and yet ancient, soul. A soul with no memories and the strongest survival instinct. The young tiefling was now nameless, naked, confused. They stood in the dark, helpless, cold, observing the trees and the bushed around them in search of clues. Then started traipsing through the shadows. They had nowhere to go, but one thing they knew for sure: the air filling their lungs, the cold tickling the skin, the soft earth welcoming their feet with each step: all of that felt wondrously familiar. Being alive felt like coming home.
I think a lot about this moment, the moment the Dervish rose from the dirt in the woods, where the corpse of a young tiefling had been crudely abandoned, bloody and bruised. But the body standing in the moonlight a few hours later was covered by a web of scars instead, had a complex sygil in the middle of chest, and was hosting a new, and yet ancient, soul. A soul with no memories and the strongest survival instinct. The young tiefling was now nameless, naked, confused. They stood in the dark, helpless, cold, observing the trees and the bushed around them in search of clues. Then started traipsing through the shadows. They had nowhere to go, but one thing they knew for sure: the air filling their lungs, the cold tickling the skin, the soft earth welcoming their feet with each step: all of that felt wondrously familiar. Being alive felt like coming home.