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jacking off on halloween like a fucking crankenstein

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Cracked Heroes bleed the Best (Flawed Ain't Enough)

Forget well-adjusted protagonists. Flaws are for amateurs. Your hero needs a gaping fracture, a darkness that tempts them to become the villain. Make their past a weapon that cuts them at every turn. Don't give them inspiring weaknesses; burden them with crippling vices, twisted desires. Will they succumb or rise above the abyss within? That's the question that will keep readers on the edge of their seats, questioning who to root for – the hero or the monster they create.

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"is this too cliche?" who cares? bro, write what you have fun writing. stuff your manuscript full of your favourite tropes. the same themes you love. all inspired by things you grew up with. do it all. go off. load. it. up. be freeeee

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hello new fallout fans! here is some of my compiled That Old Man art.

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Medusa and the blind woman in love

patreon // check more of my work on instagram // buy prints here

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Warm Bodies

Astarion walks in on a gift you were secretly making for him.

Pairing: Astarion x GN Tav

Warnings: none really? Some fluff and teensy bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

Requested: yes

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I know nothing about making clothes so if something is super off...I apologize lol. I do not approve of my work being copied or shared without my permission.

REMINDER: my inbox is open for requests!

As you ripped the seam from the thick, cotton top you were working on, you whistled quietly and bit your lip. It was late, and you were exhausted, but you were also in a just one more thing... type of concentration, so you decided not to fight it and to continue working.

Buttons were scattered across your lap, hastily discarded from the two other shirts you had worked on earlier in the evening. They rattled around as you squinted your eyes, making sure your handy work was good as you went. It must have been late - maybe 1 or 2 AM - so you gave yourself the hard stop after you finished taking apart this garment.

"Darling, I noticed your lamp light is still on...what are you doing in here so late?" A melodic voice slipped into your tent as the tent flap gently opened and closed just as quickly. Gasping, you turned around and immediately tried to hide your project.

Astarion stood, a hand on his hip and a smirk playing on his lips. "Oooh...what is this, sweetheart?" He stepped closer, peering down on the pile of clothes in front of you. You frantically waved your arms, trying to cover as much as your project as you could.

"Nothing! Nothing, I promise. Just...something." You cleared your throat nervously and stood, the buttons on your lap clattering to the ground. Both you and Astarion watched the buttons fall, and stared at them on the ground. At the same time, both of your heads snapped up and he was smiling.

"I caught you doing something," Astarion said, matter-of-factly. "I caught you doing something...something secret? Which makes me want to know even more."

"No you have not. I'm just...mending some clothes. To see if Gale could use any of them for enchanting." Proud of yourself, you smirked back, crossing your arms. Astarion eyed you suspiciously then finally looked behind you at the pile.

"For an...enchantment?" He echoed, causing you to nod in agreement. "Then why does it look like you have 7,000 shirts back there?" He walked towards the pile, and after a quick examination, he picked up the shirt you were working on when he entered, "Gods, how many do you actually have? Is 75% of your Bag of Holding filled with pants?"

"I'm trying to help, and you're getting in the way! Go away!" You teased, pulling on his sleep shirt to get him to step back. He swatted you away gently and kept looking, gingerly picking pieces of clothes up. Once he started to unfurl the pile, knowledge dawned on him.

"...it's a blanket," He said simply, quietly. He started to spread the blanket out, holding it in his hands as if it was made of the world's most precious fabric, "It's beautiful. You did this?" He looked at you, his face unreadable.

You nodded, smiling at him. You stepped around him to investigate the unfinished work, "I had the idea at the Tiefling party to start, since you told me that night in camp you got cold with what you had. So I just...kept the clothes we all no longer needed and thought it would be a nice...surprise?" Suddenly embarrassed, you blushed and pursed your lips together, looking to the ground.

Astarion said nothing, but continued to rub the blanket between his fingers. The contrasting fabrics of the velvet cape and wool robe you stitched together made a soft rubbing noise as he moved his hand. You felt your heart speed up a tiny bit - Astarion was usually never quiet, so you didn't quite understand what was going on.

"...is that okay?" You finally asked, leaning down to his level. He swallowed and slowly looked at you, bringing the blanket to his chest.

"And it's for me?" He asked. You nodded again.

"Do you...like it? Is it...too much?" You sighed heavily and stared at the blanket again, "Gods, it's too much, yeah? I knew it would be. Just because you said you were cold doesn't mean that I needed to make you a blanket-"

"I love it." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. You stopped and looked at him, a smile erupting on your face.

"You do? You don't think it's....too much that I'm making this for you? You don't think I'm...weird?"

"Oh no, you're definitely weird," He said, gently putting the blanket back in its original spot, "I'm not negating that. But...you're also very kind," He looked at you and took your hand, standing you both up. For a moment, he held on to your hand before he hesitantly dropped it, "This is a wonderful gift. Thank you...I..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I have never been given a gift like this...at least, not in a long time. It means much more to me than you could know, that you did this for me."

You blushed, lacing your fingers between both of your own hands. "That...makes me glad. I'm glad you like it. It's not ready yet...a few more shirts should do the trick, though!" I gestured to the shirt I was working on earlier, "It'll be ready probably...in a few days? You'll definitely have it before we reach Baldur's Gate."

Astarion chuckled and nodded, "That is quite alright. Take all the time you need...I didn't expect a gift like this, so you are well within your right to take as much time as you want," Suddenly, he smiled, "Though I'm not an expert, I have made my fair shares of enhancements and such to clothing...the blanket is beautiful work. You should be proud."

You smile and shrug, searching his eyes. Very rarely do you ever get to see Astarion in a vulnerable mood, one where he doesn't mask himself with jokes and charm. You like it, and you feel special knowing that he doesn't have these types of conversations with everyone.

"Besides, it'll help Wyll get off my back whenever he rips his shirt or whatever," Astarion finally broke the air with a flick of the wrist, waxing annoyed about Wyll.

You laughed and rolled your eyes, allowing Astarion the safe space, but also allowing him to step back when it all got to be too much.

"Well...I'm glad you like it," You finally said, "I'll be happy to give it to you when it's finished. And I'm sure I'll also appreciate the extra space in my Bag of Holding."

Astarion bent down to pick up the scattered buttons, handing them off to you. He smirked and walked towards your tent entrance to leave. Suddenly he turned around and stared.

You looked up from the buttons and saw his face was soft, unusual. It almost seemed like Astarion didn't know what he was feeling, either. He waited a moment before he spoke.

"I meant it when I said I have never received a gift like this before. This means-" He stopped himself, swallowing audibly. He cleared his throat before he continued, "Well, this means a great deal to me, that you did this. You are a kind person..." His eyes were shimmering as he looked at you, leaving you a bit breathless.

"I don't know if I'll ever be able to forget your kindness," He finally said, "Thank you...again." All you could do was smile and nod. Was he crying?

Astarion undid the laces on your tent flaps quickly and exited, closing it tightly behind him. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and placing the buttons on your side table, you sat on your bed, looking at the blanket. You replayed the conversation with Astarion in your head, and you started to smile. How wonderful was it, that you could effect someone so greatly with just a simple, kind gesture? You started to fold the blanket and gather the materials, placing them in a more organized pile in the corner of your tent.

It was time to sleep now, and even though you were completely awake 20 minutes ago, you suddenly felt hazy and sleepy, like you were in a dream.

As you drifted off to sleep that night, Astarion lied awake in his own, staring at the ceiling of his tent. He smiled and felt his own, thin blanket on top of his body. This entire adventure, he was disappointed in his sleeping accessories - blanket in particular, nothing ever made him feel safe, or warm. Though he longed from something heartier and more luxurious, he would never admit it out loud.

And yet, you somehow knew that a new blanket was something he wanted...possibly, even needed. Soon, he wouldn't have to worry about his shivering waking him up in the middle of the night.

That night, Astarion fell asleep, and though he was sure it was just a trick of the mind, he felt warmer than he had in weeks.

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Give it up for our favorite sassy tailor, Astarion everyone. I love Astarion fics where there isn't romance/sex involved...this man needs more FRIENDS.

REMINDER: My inbox is open for requests!

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hairy chests. you agree. reblog

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Listener I forgot the password let me in

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Raine Whispers no wife VS Raine Whispers with wife

This is what a wife does to a mf

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I shoved an elder scroll up my ass

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Since my roommates shamed me because of my comfort watch list, reblog and put your comfort watches in the tags, no shame

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Lisa just knows

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Saw this on reddit and I had too.

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His workshop wasn't abandoned, it just looked like it was. Parts were scattered across the floor, ranging from massive drills and power cores to the smallest of nuts and bolts. A large table sat in the center of the room, the only thing not covered in dust, instead covered with scraps of metal and various tools.

In the corner, where the dust especially gathered and the dust mites hid in the shadow, sat the most eye-catching part of his workshop. A large automaton- probably thirty years old with streaks of rust running down its body like blood seeping from its neck. Whenever someone asked about it, he always gave the same answer, "I'll get around to fixing it eventually."

It was massive, its head almost scraping the ceiling and its body taking up enough space that the creator had to move entire shelves to keep it tucked away in the corner. A behemoth of a creation left sat to decay.

Eventually never came. Eventually was mentioned when it first broke down, at the first sign of rust, when the left arm broke off and clattered to the floor in the middle of the night, and every single time someone asked him about it.

One late night, his newest creation whirred to life as the bright red power core in its belly lit up the room. As it stood and stretched its limbs like it just got up from a nap, it looked over at the corner, where the decrepit automaton sit in rust and decay, and asked what its story was, why it was in the corner like a kid in time-out.

The creator gave his newest creation the same answer: Eventually it will be fixed.

The newest creation was sent to work in the fields outside the city, where the wheat was starting to turn golden brown and ready to harvest. It worked alongside other creations like it, with bodies of shining metal caked with mud and dirt and bugs that took home in their crevices and joints.

And as it worked, it had time to think. Think about its fate as an automata, as a creature that did not need to breathe nor eat nor rest when the day ended. It had time to think about the automata in the corner of the workshop where it was made; and it had time to wonder if it would have the same fate.

That, of course, was the start of their revolt.

Writing/Drawing Prompt

Streaks of rust running down the automaton’s body looked like streaks of old blood, giving an illusion that life had once run through its body. It sits in the corner of a workshop, having not moved since it was assembled.

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making thibgs... to send people

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alright folks, i've done it, i've reached

500 followers!

so to celebrate-

I'll be using a random number picker to pick 3 winners!

prizes:

1st place winner will get a fully colored and shaded icon (bust) of their OC or any character of their choice!

2nd place winner will get a grayscale waist up drawing of their oc or any character of their choice! (no shading)

3rd place will get a clean lineart bust of their oc or any character of their choice! (no color or shading)

how to enter:

first off, you must be following my blog! then, just simply reblog and like this post :) (also please have some sort of reference of the character prepared!)

thats it! I'll announce, and contact the winners the day the raffle is over (sometime after the time below) and you'll have 48 hours to respond! if you do not respond, i'll pick a different winner!

Raffle will end Feb 25th at 12am CST!