DEEPSTONECRYPT.EXE. Ā Ā this is a low activity + headcanon based writing blog for several muses (primarily destiny 2 related) written by james (they / them). please visit my carrdĀ to learn more about this blog!
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Three Goblin Art
Not today Justin

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I'd rather be in outer space šø
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Game of Thrones Daily
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occasionally subtle

if i look back, i am lost

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@cybled
DEEPSTONECRYPT.EXE. Ā Ā this is a low activity + headcanon based writing blog for several muses (primarily destiny 2 related) written by james (they / them). please visit my carrdĀ to learn more about this blog!

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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hi i promise iām not dead just drawing a lot ;alskdfj
someone in a server iām in claimed mara withheld how many techeuns weāre supposed to be saving from us, the player character, so i asked him for the specific dialogue where she says this. and he sent me a clip of petra responding to a rudely worded satirical question from crow ;alsdkfj i canāt make this shit up mara haters will literally pull any kind of dialogue to justify their intense hatred of her
some mara/sjur fluff between commissions uwu
i hate to do this especially because iām not in super desperate need (thankfully i have a credit card i never touch) but i ended up with a vet bill way higher than i thought would be and am currently still unemployed and not on benefits. but my girl needs heart worm meds among other expensive things so iām here to promote myself a bit! i have a ko-fi page where you can commission me for artwork. art commissions are currently my only means of earning money, and iāve been having so much fun recently doing sketch portraits of peopleās ocās š if you want to donate a smaller amount please let me know if i can still doodle something for you and what account to tag when i post it!
hereās some examples of my art! feel free to reach out to me here or on discord if you have mine if youād like to discuss a commission in more detail š

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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George Bellows, Stag at Sharkeyās, 1909
āTime is not a straight line, itās more of a labyrinth, and if you press close to the wall at the right place you can hear the hurrying steps and the voices, you can hear yourself walking past on the other side.ā
ā Tomas Transtrƶmer (1931-2015), from āAnswers to Lettersā, in: āThe Great Enigmaā, translated from the Swedish by Robin Fulton
Dishonored is so crazy itās just like what if you had the option to hold the still-beating heart of your dead lover in your palm as it whispers to you the secrets of those around you but you can never turn it towards yourself

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Attention , citizens of Dunwall .
all i know about the new season is that my bicon is back so expect more mara things when i get home on monday š„ø
hi iām chantelle and iām reopening commissions for headers ,Ā Ā promosĀ Ā &Ā Ā gifsets to save up to finally meet my girlfriend !!Ā Ā :DĀ Ā Ā thereās a possibility iāll open more graphic formats later when i have the timeĀ &Ā focus ,Ā Ā but for now ,Ā Ā itāll only be those three things !Ā Ā if youāre interested in my workĀ :Ā Ā please take a look at my carrd ,Ā Ā and any reblogs would mean the world .Ā Ā prices are negotiable ,Ā Ā details are always discussed ,Ā Ā and if youāve any questions my inboxĀ &Ā my IMs are always open .Ā Ā Ā thank you so much !!
COMMISSION Ā STATUS Ā : Ā Ā OPEN Ā !
š°š±š“š».
Just arenāt his style? Abel scoffs to himself, noting the way the smile doesnāt even register fully on his face. Dog materializes in plain viewā either a sign of trust or a sign that Savage doesnāt think he can touch him. Covered in blades, too. If his previous partner had a ghost like that, maybe it wouldnāt have been snatched and crushed. Then again, Savage probably would have grabbed it anyways.Ā Dangerous. Dangerous.Ā
He swears to himself.Ā
āNo, nothing.ā The casualness of the question irritates him. His bloodās still hot from the fight, and yet things have pivoted completely. Savage doesnāt even seem to question their new partnership, moving calmly through picking over remains.Ā He wonāt fool me. HeĀ canāt let him, or itāll mean his life.
āYou just planning on walking off into the sunset? Whatās the next move?ā Can I trust you? He feels like a child asking their parent stupid questions. It doesnāt help. Heās pretty sure the answers wonāt either.Ā
The question pulls a dry bit of laughter from Savās throat, his eyes sparking briefly with amusement. The ridiculous picture in his mind keeps him smiling: a picture of them skipping together into the sunset, drawn in crayon by a childās hand. Wouldnāt that be something?Ā
No, the path ahead of them is much darker, full of danger and treachery. He takes a step closer to the younger Risen, and another, and another, till heās standing close enough to make out the small lines around Abelās eyes, the near impetuous set of the line of his mouth. Pouty, he thinks with mild contempt, the barest stirrings of affection there too. Itās endearing, coming from someone that had broken a pair of his ribs not five minutes ago.Ā
āIāve got a cozy little hideout, few hours from here by jump ship.ā As he speaks Sav brushes past him, trekking easily through the rest of the carnage and out of the warehouse. Dog has already set the Hull to autopilot down out of the lower atmosphere and he squints through the sudden gust of sand and dust the thrusters kick up as the massive, hideous ship hovers off the ground. Without looking to see if Abel will follow, he heads towards it. Boots clank against the metal grates that lower for entry into the large cargo space, where a couple of sparrows and a pike are strapped down amid a few odd, unmarked crates.Ā
āCockpit with me,ā he shoots over his shoulder as he climbs up a chute at the far end of the cargo hold, waiting at the top with a hand held down to pull him up.Ā āYou a good pilot?ā

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š“šøš š¾š.
Ā Ā Her crooked smile loses some of itās confidence.Ā Ā What brings you to this land?Ā Ā Peace, she wants to say, though she knows thatās not an entirely truthful answer.Ā Ā Eivor the Talker she was called, though her words had served her poorly over the years.Ā It was her axe that did most of the talking for her, and that ⦠well, that seemed to be failing her of late.Ā
āĀ A debt that was owed. It has since been paid, but I find myself in no rush to return to my home.Ā āĀ Ā The best lies are always rooted in the truth.Ā A debt was owed and paid, aye, but it was not hers.Ā Paris crosses her mind, a dark cloud blotting out the sun momentarily, but it soon passes, and the sun shines once more.Ā She gathers herself quickly, and continues without missing a beat.Ā Ā āĀ The weather in Francia is finer than England or Norway, and the people are finer here too.Ā ā
Kassandraās own smile softens at the faltering of Eivorās own, some small measure of sympathy worming its way into her heart. Such a fierce looking warrior, and yet there was softness yet to her! It reminds her distantly of Brasidasāhis face a shadow and shade now, but how he wore his heart on his sleeve, a heart that beat for Sparta and her people, and them alone. It is only a fleeting impression she gets from Eivor, but she trusts her instincts.Ā
āIf you think Franciaās weather is fine you would enjoy the Aegean islands,ā Kassandra says, biting back the impulse to ask after this debt of hers.Ā āBut I will say, there was a beauty to Norway in the dead of winter that reminded me of the mountains of Lakonia. Is that your home still? Or is it England now?ā
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The snow is softā a good thing. It helps them mask their movement. Theyāre not worried about their own tracks, and their enemiesāā no, the Fallenāsā are easier to make out. Shiro lays on his stomach in it at the edge of the ridge, feeling the cold seep through his armor slowly.
He scans the camp, feeling his heart and Light spike as he confirms Cybelās sight on the Archon. His mark. Heās done this so many times before, it almost feels like habit. Shiro takes a long, low breath, taking stock of the situation, his ins, the dangers.Ā
Cybelās touch pulls his attention back from his target. The dregs? Shiro casts Cybel a look, but complies. This is a mission. He doesnāt want to compromise it. But he has Cybelās trust and request. He sighs.Ā
ćThereās a handful. Probably the Captainās. They seem on edgeā Archon influence.ć It might be useful to exploit. High tensions mean quick action, and quick action means mistakes. ćTheyāre doing maintenanceĀ on Shanksā from the looks of it theyāre in rough shape. Low resources, maybe. They should have better equipment for their Archonā¦ć
<<Archon is ether-rich, else he loses his size and thus his authority,>> Cybel answers quietly. Things he is sure Shiro knows, but it bears reminding, how this singular view can shape inwards reflection. He watches the drekhs himself, the smallest of them with freshly docked arms. The myth of their Kell of Kells always makes him pause to watch the drekhs.Ā
<<See how they treat machines? Shanks are not merely tools or weapons to them. They are tended to as they tend their ketches: with much care.>>Ā
It is perhaps the thing that had first bent Cybelās heart towards sympathy when he first began spying on the various Houses all those many decades ago: the reverence they show for things made of machinery. No culture or people could be so damned or fall too far if they showed such love to machines.Ā
They watch the drekhs together silently for a little while longer. Cybel does not point out how they share what little ether they are doled out after a little while, nor the way one drekh carefully tends to the otherās fresh docking wounds. He knows how observant Shiro can be. After a while, he only asks:
<<Will you spare the drekhs and shanks at least?>>