#waterlight

[warriorgrayfawn]

This is Waterlight and Greenleg of my ClanGen game

#waterlight #greenleg #sand colony #oc #ocs #warrior clan #erin hunter warriors #warriorcats #warrior cat #warrior cats #warriors designs #art #my art #2022 #2022 art #colored art #colored pencils #colored pencil #colored sketch

[reddwolffy]

•.`sleepy cat the morning.🥝°

#art commisions #feral art #art #furry art #cute cats #sunnishine #morning #sleepy #lemon #waterlight #cute art #cuteeee #ych #ych commission #fisheye #drawing #artists on tumblr

[andimahsong139]

#WaterLight https://www.instagram.com/p/CkSspBnSxW5/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#waterlight

[acryliccolours]

Starlight ​​​

#waterlight #water #photography #nature #naturephotography #fujifilm #photographer #v #summer #blue #waterphotography #xf #watercolor #skincare #fotografie #sea #photo #day #bnwmood #bnw #italy #art #sustainability #mountains #underwater #seaside #Instagram

[mogranet]

GhostBlade - Princess Lylian (WaterLight City) Cosplay

View On WordPress

#GhostBlade #Princess Lylian #WaterLight City

[riverwindphotography]

Waterlight

(c) gifs by riverwindphotography

#riverwind gifs #clear waters #stones #sunlight #nature

[smakkabagms]

farewell to spiders, cobwebs forged in sweeping waterlights I have lured the deaths from this season as a creek lures an animal to drink nothing is as confined as the stars each wrong the world commits against me is a doorway that leads into gardens abandoned by the rumors of love. I know loneliness I know the way a window loses itself among the guiltless, peasant dreams the terrible is everyday, like dust or lost memories farewell to loss, I will not remember you and the window     will smother the world outside

#spilled ink #poem #poetry #writeblr

[wlopwangling]

Princess Lylian from WaterLight City  #ghostblade https://www.patreon.com/posts/66075781

[sidestepping]

Short. Moonrise, Dubhàn — "Distract her with your yearning for Gale."

Disclaimer: Obviously, everything belongs to Larian Studios; Baldur's Gate riffing! What to expect: snippet just to unwind the writing fingers, nothing fancy, a little tweak on Z'rell's scene at the start of Moonrise Towers explorating; I am trying to do justice to my little wizard, and Dubhàn is NOT amused to be here. About Dubhàn: they're a Tav, an open-hand monk (a good one, physically; a less good one, mindly, because balance is harder to achieve than you'd think when you're a natural hot-head), and they look like this:

(DUBHÀN - ACT II)

What are you doing here? You should never have come here. You’re not an actor. You’re not a charmer. You’re barely anyone, though you continue painfully to be something. In the cold dark devoted air of Moonrise, you are—choked, choking.

Maybe the shadows were better after all.

The shadows you can see, and fight. This labyrinth, it is made of walls you run into, of lines you can’t navigate.

What was Jaheira thinking?

“Z’rell is waiting for you,” someone says—who—a guard, a helmet, eyes ruby’d with Lolth, though Lolth doesn’t reach this landed tower, this towered land. And you are already gone—up the stairs, a buzzing in your ears, a silence in your gut. No space; between the too-closed walls, there is no room to move-shift-hit-and                                                               breathe.

“Dubhàn,” he says very close to your ear, Gale, he says—so close it is barely a sigh. When you meet his dark eyes there is a smile there, a smile for you.

A smile for you.

Him, he—he does navigate. More comfortable here in the snakepit than where the world is free, where the world is wild. To your constant shift, to your constant becoming, becoming-other, becoming-further, he is atemporal and fixed; he weaves symmetry. In Moonrise, symmetry wins. You smile back.

“Ready to shine, magic man?”

“Words, huh? Harder than they look,” he cracks a smirk, a smirk that tries very hard not to be smug.

No matter; you like him a little smug.

“Don’t call me dumb too fast,” you snort. “What are you gonna do when words don’t manage to carry your pack?”

He laughs; incongruous, the sound, and immediately swallowed by the rot-sponges that these walls are; how heartbreaking, that this god-filled, god-forsaken place would silence what should be crystallized.

“T-t-t,” he’s still chatting away, still chatting you up, “you forget telekinesis. Did you think I kept you around for the shoulder power?”

“No,” you push open the door to the upper hall. “For the shoulder gawking, more like,” and above the shoulder gawked at you also throw him a wink, which gets you the win. He has more words, he does, but more flustering too, as chatterboxes are wont to, and ah—on the tripping of his lovely tongue you make the mistake of advancing first.

“Excellent timing, True Soul.”

Shit. You stop. You look ahead, you look up.

She’s there, Z’rell, eyes full on you, eyes tunnelled pummelled on you; True Soul, that’s you—that’s not you, and really that’s the crux of the problem here, the crux the crack the flaw.

“No,” he says, very close to your ear, Gale, he says—so close, this time his voice clear and high, advancing before disaster can unfold, a shield of waterlight. “No, Commander Z’rell, I’m the one you—”

“Shut it, human. I’m talking to the drow.”

Eyes full on you, eyes tunnelled pummelled on you; not even a flicker towards him, and scorn so cold you bristle under its breeze. Gale doesn’t bristle, no; he huffs, good-humored, though his tadpole twitches; he bows his head; you bristle twice as strong. One last attempt:

“Well,” he says, all pirouette, “if you’d rather have a discussion with my bodyguard, of course…”

That you can be. That you are.

“Is he always so troublesome, True Soul? You should discipline him.”

You don’t rise to the bait, because it’s not a bait: she’s serious. She’s serious, so you clench your teeth, and dodge the scorching of your own anger; instead, you say, low enough to scrape:

“You wanted me. What is it?”

“I did,” Z’rell purrs. “The goblins, tell me how they suffered. No, better yet: show me.”

You want to say: don’t—but it’s too late, and she’s already parting the curtains of your mind, sliding inside like a robber’s hand, feeling, groping for something she won’t find; leaving behind the shame-slime of insertion, invasion, subjection. You are not—not a subject of this. You are not. You are the master of your face: pulled taut over your features, you feel its tight rigidity, its disciplined unmoving. Mouth, eyes, skin: still and stone.

“They didn’t,” she comes to, spat back, spat out. “Suffer?” A hiss, a threat.

“No,” you hold her gaze, though your mind is still burning with disgust. “I am no one’s dog, Commander. I don’t kill for others.”

“Except for the Absolute herself,” Gale adds, smarter than you, as you smart still.

His hand, not in your mind—here, on your naked shoulder, dry and cool, a weight on your body, a lightness in your soul. You like his hands—always open and dancing, like yours, but not like yours at all—their learnèd choreography, following a pattern you can’t know, graceful, rigid and algebraic—a neat-waltzing to your free-flowing.

Gently, you flow under his palm, and let it slide away; Z’rell is still watching you.

“Right,” she tongue-tips, an inch away from a threat. “And you came here to answer the Absolute’s call. Let’s see what you’re made of, then.”

This time you are ready, standing open so that she won’t leave a trace on the walls of yourself; but not ready enough—not ready to show her proof of your faith; as your minds collide, you grapple, you scramble for purchase—you know what to do, you knew what to do—you can drown anything, you can, that you can, in the power of Ki, in its gravel humming, you can, erase it all, deafen it all—this is what you should have done, this is what you should have invoked: smog and smoke to Z’rell’s mirrors, a force, a fog, but—but, oh, but Gale’s hand was on your shoulder a second ago, Gale’s hand, dry and cool, its dance its grace, skin-to-skin and close enough, not quite, cloth-enough, enough enough, closer you wish, you do—you wish for—Gale’s hand, and its—patterns, patience, power—Gale’s hand, meet-sweet-heat.

What Ki cannot drown, Gale did flood.

“Huh.” Z’rell laughs low. “You have used the wizard well. But the desperate one who would love such a pathetic man must hunger for—”

That’s it.

When your hand grips her throat (FAST)— When her head hits the wall (HARD)—           FINALLY She shuts her damn mouth                                                   and gasps.

Under your grasp the strength of her wide-strong body heaves; under your gaze the wrath of her eyes ignites. That, you don’t fear, though. Strength you can tackle. Wrath you can extinguish. When she strains, you give her another shove, and delight in the ugly sound of her skull against stone.

“Have some fucking respect,” you hiss, very close. “Don’t make me strike you down before your Goddess inevitably does. Yes?”

Her hand has found your wrist, scrabbling for release. She sees you now: not the secret parts she shouldn’t touch, not the restraint of Ki, either—but the you of this ugly world, the you you’re willing to give to her, this, this you. You look at her, in that second, and you think: you could kill her there. You could, you think, you think, you think on it. You could, and it would feel good.

Instead you push her back, and step away.

“Well!” In the beat of silence, Gale chuckles, beautifully unfazed as Z’rell pulls herself together, mouth twisted with hatred. “Now that we’ve all been wildly inappropriate with one another…” When you snort, he smiles wider, sparkling. “You had a mission for us?”

#baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #notebooks #dubhàn

[kokuou-ji]

💧🌿| waterlight |🌿💧

#kokuart #oc #oc art #sidhe is a good muse when you're feeling a bit down #a very pretty guy

[whatpandorasaw]

Waterlight installation at Museumplein in Amsterdam, Netherlands

[warriorgrayfawn]

Tragedy in the snow images from episode 2 of my Clangen game

#owlshade #stagslip #waterlight #blackberry #cloverswoop #bumbleash #dappleburr #dustpad #hailwind #lostblaze #sand colony #art #my art #2023 #2023 art #digitalart #digital artist #digital doodle #digital drawing #digital art #warrior clan #erin hunter warriors #warriorcats #warrior cat #oc #ocs #wc oc #warrior cats oc #warrior cat oc

[kasgaleria]

Kecskés Péter PHOTISMOS K.A.S. Galéria, 2024.02.16. - 03.03.

Megnyitó: 2024. február 16., péntek 18 óra A kiállítást megnyitja: Kovács Gergely művészettörténész

Facebook esemény

A kiállításon két elektrografikus sorozat és két 4K-s videó látható. A kiállítás címe (Photismos) utal a megvilágosodásra, illuminációra és a misztikus megismerés imaginális stációira. A címadó sorozat a New Yorkban készült előző anyag folytatása; a digitális fotók rétegzett alkalmazásán keresztül egyszerre jelenik meg egy futurisztikus látvány és egy fényművészeti jellegű megfogalmazásmód. A másik sorozat az egyik videóból kiemelt képek feldolgozásából áll; itt a természeti környezet dominál, melyben a víz, a tükröződés, a napfény és a kontrasztos árnyékok fényjátékká szerveződnek. A mű (LightWater-WaterLight) utal a különböző archaikus divinációs technikákra is és a beavatás/keresztelés szimbolizmusára. A második videó, melynek címe megegyezik az első sorozattal, legújabb videóművem, egy 2023-ban készült performance rekreációja a kamera előtt, melyben egy arc absztrahálódik a különleges megvilágításnak és rétegzettségnek köszönhetően. Photismos című videómban a mozgóképes absztrakció határmezsgyéjén mozogva az arc/személy elvonatkoztatásán keresztül egy újfajta, vizionárius képi minőség létrehozására törekedtem. Mindkét videóra vonatkozik, hogy olyan részletgazdag, festői, fényfestészeti potenciállal rendelkeznek, melyek még további felfedezésre várnak. ”Paradise is a Person.” Kecskés Péter

A kiállítás megtekinthető: 2024. március 3-ig.

[scarletooyoroi]

She doesn't know what he likes and can only give things that are acessible to her, city goods and purchases were beyond her. Nothing can be considered cheap, so that didn't help much. Still, the wild fairy of Erinnyes couldn't care much.

Here comes Pahsiv, with a crate on hold like it weighed nothing. "Thoma good thing", "gift for Thoma, Pahsiv!". As for what may be insidee the wooden crate, its only a bunch more of Waterlight Lilies. (Glaciescustodia. A Merry Christmas to u :3)

"!! Whoa!"

Now hasn't someone been busy! Noticing the crate they lofted by his side had immediately struck him from his perch, the book betwixt his fingers closed while the springy Pahsiv introduced a gift today. The initial surprise dwindled into warmed forethought as it clicked to which day it was. Part of him was curious, was it a matter of fairy actually knowing? Or on the other hand, did circumstances decide to bless the wellness of her timing?

The Vision Holder would hardly give it too much thought. For it was the action's intent that mattered, and right now, watching the way she looks proud of her quarry made him instantly want to amuse her. "Well aren't you sweet. Given the weight, this must've taken you a while has it?" Even if their language speak was a touch broken, it hadn't switched Thoma from taking it as any other conversation, he liked for Pahsiv to feel involved.

Plucking up the top of the crate, his lips sparsely dropped at the sheer number of water lillies caught within his sight. 'That's right.. I never told them I had completed the commission. Still, maybe there is a perfect something I can do with these.'

"Pahsiv.. Thank you. Hmhm, I say we gotta put this bounty here to some good use! Not only in setting up some more medicine, did you know there's a thing humans could do involving color?"

"Why don't you sit with me for a little bit? I have an idea of a present for you too."

It wouldn't take long before he sets himself to work. Needle and thread were at the ready, and all of a sudden those hands of his were as lethally swift as lightning. The muscle memory of the act served true for his task as strands of the waterlight were woven into cloth, leading to a 'blessing' of sorts drawn into the scarf, ensuring it wouldn't be soaked through any long journeys through water.

Another modicum would be taken in order to get the actual dye set. By now the process, in particular due to Teyvat's materials, was a lot more easy to set up due to its vibrancy.

Given an hour a good hour into the work, a touch of heating and cooling from his Vision, and plenty of expert wit. Set within his hands would be a shimmering blue scarf, holding an ethereal sort of glow as it's draped within his hands. Silently marveling over the handiwork, it'd be happily given to Pahsiv.

"How do you like it? If you ever want to keep a little warm or have some light be by your side, just keep it tucked around your neck."

@glaciescustodia

#glaciecustodia #| Tucked Letters #-THROWS SOME CUTE BACK AT U- #This sweetheart needs a nice thing to keep that heart strong! #He adores her #AND MERRY CHRIMMAS!!

[estellijelli]

Waterlight City by WLOP

#god tier #honestly thought this was too great not to share #wlop #live wallpaper #love #art

[aniseinthetemple]

Anise is outfitted in gauzy temple robes - unclad beneath the crisp fabric, barefoot against the cool tile. Not extravagant enough to look like the subject of a sacrifice, but nothing to point a finger at, either. With the crown of laurel leaves laid on her loose hair, she looks rather Hellenistic. In the chromatic haze of the herb-induced high, Anise looks up at the octagonal skylight directly above her head. The sky is a dusky, empty blue, like a clear reflecting pool, and dawn's waterlight washes over her. She stares at it, thinking it's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

You will always remember what the sky looked like in the city where you learned to be a man. The city that taught you how to survive and break, survive and break - but ultimately survive. You carry this mastery with you when you travel to the next foreign land—your second one in a relatively short time. But you have not escaped alone, and there are many midnights when two grown men metamorphose into little boys, curled up like pups on a solitary mattress. A face pressed into the hollow of a shoulder. A grip that communicates the necessity of this companionship. It's good to be alive, you often think, and it's not a lie you tell yourself. They're not mere words of patronizing comfort, but they do not encompass all that tremble and whine within you. But you are committed to the feeling of goodness above all else. You don't remember when this drive started and do not know how to stop it. You will smile yourself to death if you are not mindful of what lurks behind your teeth.   The man you hoped to elude will find you, and he will speak Chinese, which is a bad sign because it indicates an emotional depth he cannot express in English. A shadow will cross the man's face, plunging both of you into previously unplumbed darkness. You wonder helplessly if you looked like that to her in her final moments, and then you consider all the moments you stole in murder. The man hopes that this will spiral you into violence, volute you into his design, and it almost does. The possibility of violence exists vibrantly within you. When you are laying fists into the grisly faces of the underground fighters, you think that you may be skin stretched over brutality. A beast. A monster. It seems easy to get wrapped up in familial mythology. You thought you had killed your ties to it, but it lay uneasy in its grave. "You are responsible," the man barks, and you are sure he means her. It has to be her. But he goes on: "for this legacy" And somehow, this wounds you worse because she died for what? For this lineage? She was more than the woman whose womb brought you into this world. "I only want what's best for you," he says, "And you are doing everything wrong." You will turn away from him with clenched fists. You will wish to strike him, but the thought of a tender woman you know - and another you knew - will unfurl your fingers. You were not begotten in his image. Your disposition and genetics are not a rope tied around your throat, tethering you to his world. To his expectations. This realization will save you from him. But this is only the beginning. Let it in. Let it out. Can you recognize the beast within? This one does not don fur or claws. Can you face it? Can you regard it with honesty, with compassion? This will save you from you.

#self para #anise's visions #crystal visions series