#;these new demons☽ic

[deadeyemarkxman]

@smashsonics sent:

"HAZZZYYY, I want you to hang out with one of my friends."

A loud and exasperated sign came from the hooded hedgehog as he began to message his temple with his index and thumb, "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me 'Hazy'." He then remembered it was useless and he had become a broken record that his cousin seemingly tuned out at this point. He lowered his hand, looking at the other hedgehog critically .

"A nd why would I hang out with any of your dafty friends?"

[deadeyemarkxman]

Hazen blinked with surprise as soft lips were pressed against his cheek. He gingerly took the stone from the demoness, rubbing it between his gloved fingers as he admired the multicolored refractions exaggerated by the inky body of the rock. It felt vaguely cold. Smiling, he looked at Onyx. "I look forward to seeing you again." Reaching into the bag attached to his belt, he slipped the rock in there and in exchange pulled out a warp ring. One that'd lead him directly home. He gave it a toss and watched the portal swirl to life, revealing his own bleak homeland on the other side.

" It certainly does handsome~ The only thing that's left to do is to said bye~ But first a parting gift~" She purred while pouting attractively, her thumb lightly running over his jawline before boldly kissing his cheek then stepping back.

The feline took a braid that dangled from her long flowing locks and sliced it off with her own claw, the strain morphing and changing into a shiny black summoning stone. She blew on it and it flared to life, creating millions of tiny little points of light inside like a miniature galaxy inside the void of space. Handing it to the archer.

[deadeyemarkxman]

"I forgot how much enjoyment I get out of watching people suffer."

[deadeyemarkxman]

@sweet-chimera ☾ Closed

Oh God damn itー

"What are you doing here?!"

[deadeyemarkxman]

" What if I'm not mortal~?" Came a voice from within the shadows. It was sultry with low notes, pleasant and haunting at the same time.

(Hi from @onyx-the-temptress )

He had been in yet another zone, on the hunt for pieces of the Shadow Khor when the area became enveloped in shadows. The first sign that he took something was wrong was his ear twitching. As a hunter, he learned to trust his body's natural instincts; his ear twitching meant there was a sound that had been picked up, yet not fully registered by his brain.

❝Show yourself.❞ Hazen let out as a low growl. "Don't be a foolish mortal."

When the mysterious voice responded, he was needless to say caught off guard. It seemed to wrap around his mind, holding it in a near vice. A warm, yet anxious feeling built up in his chest and throat. It wasn't til he heard Malizz, his demon, hiss with dissatisfaction in his ear that he snapped back. Now his fingers itched for his weapon, but he didn't want to summon it yet; Malizz was clearly upset, but there was no need to rush into a fight just yet.

❝Then it'd seem we'd be on even grounds.❞ He replied back, eyes darting left and right to find the source of the encounter.

[deadeyemarkxman]

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow, "And why is that? Surely if you ended up here, you could go back if you wished? No humans...Well, I can't guarantee that actually. Every world seems slightly different."

☄️⯮ "Huh..."

Comet wondered what the humans back on Hazen's home planet had been like. Given how the older hedgehog had regarded them with such disdain... it didn't bring up particularly pleasant visions.

Speaking of home... the blue hedgehog's face fell quite quickly at the question, almost as if he were mentally deflating.

☄️⯮ "I... can't."

He sounded pained.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

christmas cookies

it's christmas now in my timezone. so happy holidays from unit 4402, and a lovely winter ahead. please stay warm comfy and loved wherever you are. this was inspired by a george strait song of the same name sans vox. he is one of the few country artists i trust. please be kind to him and enjoy my guilty pleasure corny christmas music fave

(btw i've always wanted vox to do a karaoke and sing at least one george strait song i just know he'd eat it up. tbh christmas cookies is the song i associate with vox the most even more than new cydonia. you have to understand how important the imagery of vox singing this song is to me i can't describe it in words nor fanfic)

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, food descriptions

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A comfy night in while the air turns icy outside. Your home runs warm, especially as you pass by the oven, and when you lean over Vox's wing-and-shoulder to watch him mix some icing together.

"Pass me the powdered sugar, Reader?"

"Sure thing."

"Thank you, baby."

Before you can utter any sweet nothings back to him the oven interrupts you as the timer goes off. You slip on one of Vox's mitts (a ruby red with a paw-print pattern and a scorch mark on the side, what were you expecting) and open the oven door.

The sweet smell of freshly baked cookies pours out from the oven, and as you set them on the cooling rack the scent grows only more enticing. Vox insisted on making cookies from scratch this year rather than from a box, and you have to admit, you don't even need to sneak a bite to admit he was right. The scent and golden-brown color is already miles ahead of the batches you made alone in the past.

The heat spreads behind you, trademark Vox and his demonic blood. Your suspicions are confirmed once he peers over your shoulder just as you did, and swipes an oven-hot cookie from the rack.

"What the—Vox!" You lightly slap his hand. "Those are hot!"

"I was born in Hell," he says, mouth full of cookie. He swallows. "Mmm, tasty."

"They aren't even frosted yet!"

"It's a good goddamn cookie, Reader, what do you want me to do, say they taste like charcoal?"

"No, Vox, I want you to be patient and wait for them to cool and decorate them like a normal person before eating them! We're going to have a full bowl of icing and no cookies to ice if you keep taking them like that!"

He pops another cookie into his mouth much to your playful dismay. "What kind of normal person doesn't eat a cookie straight out of the oven?" Then he takes another, places it on a napkin, and sets it on the counter in front of you. "Would having a cookie yourself make you feel better?"

"Normal people that don't have heat resistance like you." You stare down at the cookie. It has a soft crack through the side from cooling improperly, so of course it would be perfect for a taste test. "But... thanks."

Vox brightens. "Eat up. Er, in ten to fifteen minutes when cooled."

You nod, and watch as Vox shovels cookie dough onto a new pan. You snuck a tiny Santa hat onto one of his horns earlier this evening, and even now the pompom at the end sways as he moves the next batch into the oven.

The oven settings chirp, chirp, chirp until the temperature and timer is set.

"Should be fine to eat your cookie once those are out of the oven," he says. Baking your holiday sweets was an equal effort, but his lips are curved upwards and his wings raise in quiet pride. "I can tell you what it tastes like if you're too impatient to wait."

He's right. You're impatient. So you take Vox's hand to lower him just enough for your mouth to meet his.

You return back down from your tiptoes a second later, sugar on your tongue and sweetness all the way through. "Damn, we did great."

He scoffs but his wings let out a happy little flap. "If you wanted me to kiss you, you could've just asked."

"Well, we have—"your eyes flit to the timer—"Ten minutes until the next batch is done." You squeeze his hand. "Gotta spend the time somehow."

The corners of Vox's lips curve a little higher. He sweeps you up only to seat you on the clean side of the counter, just so you can see that eager, dorky little grin at eye-level, wings around you and arms on either side. "'Tis the season for giving, mm?"

"Cheeky bastard." You close your eyes as if you were irritated, but you're the one that leans in first, and the taste of the cookies spreads through your mouth as the minutes go by.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[deadeyemarkxman]

@supcrsxnic-cxmct: "Soooo... who are ya anyway?" - Comet

He stared down at the clearly younger hedgehog, studying him with piercing green irises that seemed to have a faint glow among the inky shadow that covered the rest of his eyes.

"Why do you want to know?"

[honeydippedwaffles]

Favourite

Summary: I wanted to explore Astarion's past a little deeper through writing and I hoped this would be a good way to do so. It will be a series and will eventually have a happy ending.

Content Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Torture

Word Count: 3.6k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

The longer time stretched on, the less and less he remembered about his time amongst the living. Flashes came back to him on the occasion: the sweetened scent of Guldathen nectar or the memory of flowers with their faces turned towards the morning sun.

From what he remembered of his family though, he had once been the favourite child. Lavished in praise and named after the night sky, he’d never felt poorly about being noticed. About being seen.

He loved being the centre of attention even amongst strangers. If he could catch an eye or an ear, his day felt complete.

In his new family (loath as he was to refer to it as such), he sought only the opposite.

If nothing else, Cazador taught him the value in being invisible.

After the pain of turning, the vile and wretched agony of his body twisting and morphing into a form he despised, came the darkness of the tomb. He couldn’t breathe. Not because the only air turned stagnant hours ago but because his lungs no longer moved on his command. No longer moved at all.

He punched his way through the lid after the darkness began to crawl down his burning throat. The sand clogged his mouth and stabbed into his eyes, wet and fresh.

It went on forever. He fought with every ounce of strength he could, convinced he may die a second time here. Every movement only revealed more.

He scratched and he dug until he punctured through the grass of the cemetery and dragged himself out onto the dew-touched ground. The dirt stuck under his nails, painful and uncomfortable, as he rolled onto his back.

Everything hurt. His muscles ached with a pain you only felt after having everything you knew distorted into a new form. Bones shouldn’t be able to burn in the way his did. Nothing about what happened could be labelled natural. Not now and not ever because he died.

But he hadn’t died here. No… he’d died in some piss-stained back alley with nothing but the agony in his chest for company.

He could remember the blows as they fell hard against his skin. Somebody stopped them, their words a momentary saving grace morphed into a skilfully articulated deal. Some part of his mind believed it had been a demon.

Later, he would wish he’d been correct.

The thirst burned worse than anything else. Its hunger slammed against his body and sent awful shivers through his limbs. He shook, reached for his mouth to cover it, and pulled his hand away in pain as teeth far sharper than the ones he knew sliced through his flesh.

He ran his tongue over them slowly but not carefully enough. A stab of fire shot through his mouth as he split the skin once more.

Those teeth brought everything back in horrific clarity. The promise of something to save him and a bite like ice into the side of his neck. Everything from then turned into mind-numbing screams but he knew he hadn’t been in the ground.

A vampire saved him. A vampire bit him.

Cazador Szarr arrived late even though the transformation couldn’t have taken all too long. He didn’t do well with being bored. Perhaps it was one of the reasons he bothered to turn Astarion at all. For the longest time, Astarion believed nothing else made sense.

He loomed like a marble statue in the graveyard, inhuman and cold. “It’s a right of passage,” he said. “To crawl your way from the grave. I don’t believe a spawn truly appreciates the gift they’ve been given until such an act has been done.”

Astarion looked at him then. Truly looked at him.

The red eyes and the foreboding presence made it impossible for anybody to imagine this man as anything but a monster. He lurked in the shadows as though they were his domain alone. He waited for a response but Astarion couldn’t give him one.

The pain in his throat rubbed his voice raw. He wanted something to sooth the hunger before it overwhelmed him. Something sweet lingered in the air and he twisted his head desperately to find it. His mouth watered.

“You must be starved,” Cazador said. “Pathetically so. If I let you feed now, I imagine you’d run right into the middle of the city. You’d latch onto the first poor soul you found and they would drive a stake through your heart before a single drop graced your throat.”

Astarion’s head swam. The hunger burned so great it didn’t sound like a poor deal so long as the pain stopped.

Cazador moved closer, his steps silent though he moved atop leaves and twigs alike. “Aren’t you lucky then, dear spawn, that you have a master who won’t allow you to get yourself killed a second time.”

If he could though… Astarion didn’t need to live. He needed to feed. He needed to bite into something and feel its lifeforce seep over his tongue. Life felt very unimportant in comparison to the promise of blood. Did he even have a life to trade for it anymore?

“Stand.”

And despite being exhausted, his body moved to comply with Cazador’s orders. It listened even if it ignored Astarion himself. The order clung to his shoulders as he stood, forcing his chest to keep moving from habit alone.

His lungs burned no matter how much air he dragged in.

Cazador walked around him like a butcher considering a cow for the slaughter. He took his time. Every languid step made the hunger worse. Minutes dragged past, each one harder to weather than the previous. Surely if this continued, death couldn’t be far away.

“You’re even weaker than I thought,” Cazador said with a sigh of pure disappointment.

Astarion winced at it, unsure why he felt such a stab of misery at not being able to please this creature before him. Not everybody liked him and most of them didn’t matter in the slightest.

Though sometimes they may attempt to beat you to death in a back alley for it.

“Tell me spawn, do you know how to hunt?”

And Astarion answered even if the words drove knives through the sides of his parched throat. The order didn’t give him the words, it only compelled him to speak. “I’ve only been hunting once before,” he said, offering the truth. “A friend attempted to show me how to track a boar though we didn’t manage to find it before dark.”

Cazador sighed and stopped his circling. He stood in front of Astarion now, looking far too pleased for his words. “I imagine I must learn to live with my bad decision making. It would seem I was too impulsive when I thought you would be useful.”

Astarion didn’t know what this man would consider to be useful. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“I can hardly have you alerting the public to a vampire spawn in their midst so you will have to feed on what’s already here.”

He looked around the graveyard, bathed in shades of grey with a single flickering lamppost at the entrance. The graves here had long since disappeared beneath the dying ivy; names forgotten to the city. A solitary tree stood guard at the far side, pieces of crumbled wall surrounding its roots.

There wasn’t anything to eat here. The dead no longer hosted visitors.

Cazador saw his confusion and waved his hand through the air. “Do you believe yourself too good for their blood, spawn?”

Astarion forced himself to speak even if it cut his dehydrated throat. “Whose?”

“The rats. Come now, I know spawn are hardly intelligent but the bite does grant you some enhanced senses, does it not? I’d hurry and catch one if I were you. The hunger only gets worse with time.”

Rats. Astarion could hear them if he focused, shuffling around the buildings. He had an infestation of the vile creatures in his home and could imagine nothing worse than eating one.

But whatever it was inside him now, it heard the command.

He tried to resist it but the uncomfortable feeling against his skin hurt more than the hunger itself. His muscles strained against his will, no longer his own to command but mere tools of the vampire who turned him. It lasted all of a second before he gave in.

If resisting turned pointless, he figured he may as well do as told until this hunger subsided. Once he caught a rat (and he shuddered at the notion of even touching one of those disgusting creatures), he’d prove his ability to hunt real blood.

He could taste them from here. This graveyard still lay within the city and he could feel the humans nearby. The pulse of their veins beat in his ears as he tried to scour the ground for rodents. How delicious it would be to sink his fangs deep into their throats, drink from their veins until he sated himself. He could scarcely think of anything else.

The rats scattered as he approached. Their senses could pick him up well before he noticed them. They darted through the foliage before he could grab for them, vanished under rocks and bricks even as he desperately grasped for their writhing forms.

He stood no chance as he grabbed for them. Not if he tried to sneak nor rush. They vanished from his grab and his hunger howled for it.

“I do hope you have one by the time I return,” Cazador said, his voice an awful reminder of his continued presence. “Otherwise, I imagine not being able to starve to death will be a curse of your eternal life.”

Frustration well in Astarion, hot and uncontrollable. Tears pricked at his eyes though he chased them away, anger and indignation burning in him. How dare this creature arrive and rip him from the clutches of death. How dare he deny him his one desire since becoming this monster. It would be far easier to catch a person than a rat.

Everybody still around at this time of night had enough drink to allow them to stumble free of the group. He could find one with ease.

Cazador had no right to steal him from his perfectly adequate life. Everything he’d built for himself would disappear into the daylight. A place he could no longer reach.

Yet his body refused to let him give up. Not when the order lingered in the back of his mind.

The rat he crept up on raised its head to look at him. In the dark, he tried to plead with it to stay still. Even a small creature, so lacking in what he truly wanted, could sooth the burn in his throat.

It shot away before he could snatch for it.

Humiliation rose its head, stronger than any hunger.

Astarion wanted to scream and maybe he would do just that. Yell and make enough of a fuss for the city guards to come looking. They could put an end to this immediately and maybe they would grant him the mercy of death, true death, since it slipped from his grasp.

When he heard his return, he turned to face the monster who condemned him to scrambling after vermin, ready to threaten such a reaction, and froze.

In his arms, Cazador escorted a woman.

Cheeks flushed with drink, she could hardly be conscious for how she fell against him, laughing. The vampire’s smile looked perfect, poised as he waited. Another rat scuttled by and Astarion’s body commanded him to try and catch it, anger and embarrassment welling in him as his nails only found dirt.

“Look spawn. Meals come so easily if you are at all competent. How unfortunate you appear to struggle with the simplest tasks.”

The woman looked between Cazador and Astarion. He could see how even in her drink-riddled fog, she recognised the dirt over his clothes and face. The slow connection she made in her brain.

She didn’t even have a second to scream.

Her body fell to the ground like a discarded doll, head twisted at an unnatural angle. Though her heart may have stopped, Astarion could still smell the blood in her veins. It pulsed sporadically as her heart tried to catch up with the rest of her dying body. Sweeter than any honey he’d tasted before. He ran his tongue over his fangs on instinct and hissed when the slice burned once more.

Cazador didn’t even look at her. He stepped over the body and Astarion straightened at his approach like a puppet pulled at the strings. No matter how he tried to fight it, he stood no chance.

“Come,” he said. “I will show you your new home.”

Astarion had a perfectly good home. He lived in one of the upper areas of the city with a modest garden he didn’t really care for and a small library. He didn’t need a new one.

The woman’s heart thudded its final beat, a strange gasp ripped from her throat as her body caught up. Her blood… it didn’t take such a little time to congeal. It would be ideal to feed upon her. To drink and drink and sooth the burn in his throat. Surely nobody cared to come looking for her now. It would take him but a second.

He tried to move towards her but his body felt stuck in place. No matter how desperate his hunger, nothing could stand against the order.

They left the graveyard with dirt still beneath his nails and a body wasting away on the floor.

The pain didn’t subside as they slipped through the shadows. Its agony tried to cripple them as they went; clouded his brain and permeated every thought. He wanted to scream, rage, cry and beg but he could do nothing.

He hardly recognised these streets though he’d walked them a hundred times before.

The Szarr Palace bore a façade as cruel and unyielding as its master’s. Great stone gargoyles stood guard at the gate like wardens before a cell. They watched Astarion as he struggled his way through the front doors, judgemental and cold. He shivered beneath their gaze.

And when those doors shut behind him, he felt their slam in his bones.

Cazador bothered not with candles. Nothing in his manor needed to be reminded of the sun and its warmth; they didn’t need the light to see and he saw no reason for pretence here.

Astarion stopped and waited for his next order, hating how his body moved without his permission. He could speak if not for the burning pain in his throat.

“I –“

“Silence.”

All opportunity to defend himself died over his tongue. Cazador sealed his jaw without even lifting a hand. How far did his influence go? This power he had… he controlled Astarion with simply intention alone. Whatever he wanted would happen.

Astarion had never been a stranger to hopelessness. He’d found it before when his endeavours failed and he changed paths, adjusted himself to continue despite the blockage. He’d prided himself on his adaptability and yet this turned his stomach to lead.

For once, he could see no solution. No way to charm himself free.

He trawled his mind for what little he knew about vampires and found nothing. His memories brought forth no answer but the simple: they couldn’t step into the sun and they subsisted off blood alone.

Immortal. The term tasted strange in his mouth. He felt so close to death with this agony in his chest.

“You have proven yourself rather pathetic,” Cazador said. “But you’re lucky for your master has always had a soft spot for the most worthless of creatures.” He sounded proud of himself as he spoke, as though he did a favour to those around him.

Astarion bristled at the implication. He’d been many things in his life but pathetic wasn’t one of them. His rage bit at the order keeping him silent, sharpened his tongue and shot an array of insults in his mind. Cazador smiled as though he could sense it.

“You clearly have no ability to catch food naturally so you’ll have to use other methods.”

Astarion had no idea what Cazador implied with such a comment but he swore to himself, he would find any loophole in these ridiculous orders and exploit it. He would not be used as some useless thrall.

He understood how men like this worked. The magistrates attracted them like flies to rotting meat. They always thought themselves smart but they always slipped up and allowed something through. Astarion knew he could find the way out if only he rid himself of this dogged hunger. Once his thoughts were unclouded, he’d find it before the day’s end.

Of this, he was sure.

His mind went back to the woman as she lay in the graveyard, dead and with no purpose. Feeding off her would at least have made her a sacrifice. Her blood would coat his mouth and clear away the agony – gift him the strength to understand more about his condition.

How much better was that than slowly rotting away in a forgotten cemetery where her family wouldn’t check? No, her blood could have been so much more.

Cazador shocked him away from the thoughts by grabbing his jaw roughly. His grip bruised as he twisted Astarion’s head from side to side, unyielding even as the elf attempted to pull himself away.

He scrambled to push against Cazador’s chest but his strength, weakened from the thirst and exertion of the night, stood no chance.

“Stop that.”

His arms dropped to his sides, worthless.

Cazador’s nails dug into his skin as he examined Astarion. “Yes, you may stand a chance yet. I might even come to prefer you to the others should you manage it right. I like my meals to arrive in pristine condition, you see, and if they’re warm, all the better. Too many spawn allow screams to echo through the halls or blood to spill over the floor.”

Astarion’s mouth twisted at the image. How many people had this vampire killed right under their noses? No rumours abounded about vampires in the city and yet one lived in the most prominent house there.

“I’m going to give you a chance to prove yourself worthy of my attention,” Cazador said. “You will lure prey to this house for me to feed on and, should you be successful, I may even allow you to eat.”

As much as he hated how dependent he’d become, the promise of something to sate his throat caught his attention.

How could he lure somebody here? With sweetened promises perhaps? Or he could find somebody drunk enough to not even need to provide a reason, as Cazador had earlier. Once they arrived, he’d be allowed to drink and then he’d find a solution for this situation.

“Unfortunately for you, it’s almost morning,” Cazador said. “A pity you weren’t more efficient with freeing yourself. Follow me.”

The room he was led to stood underground, like a dungeon with nothing but its walls and a single bucket of water. No windows and no furniture, it may as well have been a cave. Not even the spiders had bothered to take residence above the dusty floor. Astarion stepped in and Cazador closed the door.

The sound of it locking echoed off the bare brick.

Whatever orders had been given earlier faded and Astarion spoke simply to prove he could once more. It didn’t help the fire burning in his neck but he did it regardless because nothing stopped him.

He paced around the room until his legs burned and then sat down in the corner and tried to ignore the pressing darkness and tearing hunger.

When that didn’t work, he gave in and used the bucket of ice-cold water to get the dirt off his skin. Its freezing bite made him tremble in his destroyed clothing, realising for the first time how filthy it had become.

He stripped it off to wash and thought of the future. How he could endure this for a short while until he found the way to becoming a true vampire. There must be a path there else he saw no point in the species even continuing to exist at all. He just needed to figure it out then do it.

All the power he’d ever need could be in his grasp. Vampire lords were feared across the world for their strength and ferocity.

Soon, he thought as he cleaned the dirt from his fingernails.

Soon, he imagined as he ran his fingers over his sides and felt where injury had destroyed his bones and shattered his organs. Curse those gur. If he had simply waited for an escort then perhaps, he could be home now, enjoying an actual bath.

Ironic how some idiotic monster hunters were solely to blame for him becoming a monster at all.

He stared into the bucket of murky water and wondered if he should have a reflection in this light. Would it even show his face still? The only difference he could tell were the fangs but who knew what abhorrent thing he’d turned into.

The two bite marks in his neck were nearly enough to make him sick.

Day passed agonisingly slow. Perhaps Cazador left him down there for more than one evening. It felt as though he did. When every second passed with nothing more than burning pain to characterise it, it became impossible to tell.

He waited and he watched the door.

For what else could he possibly do.

Tags: @venus-wrts

[deadeyemarkxman]

Had he been crying? It didn't feel like he was. Right now he just felt...Weakened. Tired. Yet lighter somehow, as if all the weight he had been carrying on his shoulder for the past few months had been lifted.

Hazen brushed off his sleeves, then cleared his throat. "Right. Well..." He didn't know what to say next. He didn't exactly want the meeting to end, but he felt he couldn't keep the other around for much longer. She had a much more important life to get back to. And he...Well, he definitely would have to think about what his next move was going to be.

"It was...Uh...Good, t' see you again."

What a strange feeling it must have been. It's not like there were many people in the anti verse willing to help, much less hug, a stranger. This wasn't his friend, this wasn't even his ally. She'd have no incentive to try an make the hedgehog feel better...

"T'ats a lie." She said, her blank gaze looking over the reanimated corpse. "She shouldn't do t'at around me. 3 and somet'ing bad happens." The monster mused in a tone far too cheery for what she just said. With 0 regard for his personal space, she even picked him up. Holding the hedge like a stray cat before putting him down.

"Dinnae apologize fer feeling yer feelings. It means yer alive. Well.." As alive as he could be. "Now come on. No man deserves to have the public see him cry. "

[moku-and-his-madness]

Oh shit, homie...you just walked in to the wrong home...(cocks glock mm9)

Yo, I'm AL or Hector and a new secret third option ->

(Moku "Moh-kew" or "nest of devils")

☆ He/Him - They/Them

☆ minor

☆ newly found greysexual

☆ uhhhh but mostly queer/unlabeled :]

id like to calmly say that digital art requests are now open

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melos pinned to explain the melo fam <33 <- @m3l0man14c es mi padre ^^

Links->

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this cool thing ->Fonts post

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-BSD (Bungo Stray Dogs)

-Lovejoy

-Minecraft

-COD (yes believe it or not)

-Coding/Web Dev

-Genloss

-Hamilton (im so goddamn gay about it)

-DND

-JRWI

...and more

The anime I have or am currently watching:

demon slayer chainsaw man a whisker away yuri on ice bsd jujustu kaisen dungeon meshi blue exorsist scott pilgrim toilet bound hanakokun

The anime I'm going to watch:

attack on titan makeine bleach bocchi the rock your lie in april link click sheild hero the promised neverland dangan ronpa tokyo ghoul cowboy bebop Darling in the Franxx assasination classroom castlevania saiki Boogiepop phantom Howls moving castle spirited away cyberpunk and cyberpunk edge runners zom 100: bucket list of the dead tokyo revengers

take my blue screen of death collection:

heh, flowers from moot @thinkingaboutctommy:

🪻🪷🌺🌻🌸🌼🌹🌷💐🌾

also the fruit for our smoothie:

🍉🍏🍎🍐🍊🍌🍇🍓🫐🍈

[libraryofnika]

⋆˙⊹ RECENT ARCS I RECEIVED⊹˙⋆

9 arcs I received recently this month 💕

☽｡⋆The Wayward Duke (Author Sent, Historical Romance)

Ice Cold Duke and Prim Duchess. Reminds me of manhwa comics with the trope pairing. This is part of a series but can be read standalone. I gave this series' first book, A Touched of Wicked a 4.5⭐ months ago. It was that good 🙌 The Wayward Duke releases on October 10, 2024.

☽｡⋆An Academy of Liars (Netgalley, Gothic, Mystery-Thriller, Horror, Paranormal)

Screams academia concept. A student will find that the hardest lessons sometimes come outside the classroom in this stunning dark academia novel from the acclaimed author of The Year of the Witching and House of Hunger. This releases on October 24, 2024 according to Netgally but Goodreads says September 19.

☽｡⋆Lucy Undying (Netgalley, Horror, Gothic, Historical, Vampire, Queer)

Manifested this arc, lol. Anyway, this novel is set in the aftermath of Dracula and how Lucy navigates her new life and escapes from Dracula. Super excited for this one! Releases on September 10, 2024.

☽｡⋆Nightstrider (Netgalley, Fantasy, Queer)

Screams some kind of heist to me and a fantasy adventure. Also, this is gonna be a 4 pov story, AND SOME KIND OF RELUCTANCE ALLIES TO LOVERS! Releases on September 17, 2024.

☽｡⋆The Devil and His Sparrow (Author Sent, Paranormal Romance)

If I can remember correctly this is a kind of demon x human where the fmc made a bargain with the demon mmc. Releases on September 13, 2024.

☽｡⋆Love and Other Cages (Netgalley, Romance)

NA Romance. I feel this gonna be angsty since there's an abduction and underground org happening. Releases on October 15, 2024.

☽｡⋆A Deathless Empire (Author Sent, Fantasy Romance)

Fantasy romance with royals, assassins, necromancers, plot for the downfall of the empire 👏 I'M IN! Releases on August 6, 2024.

☽｡⋆A Dance Macabre (Author Sent, Dark Fantasy Romance, Magic Realism)

*A Dance Macabre is an enemies to lovers, forbidden romance with a magical realism twist. It is the first book in the Perverse City series and has a guaranteed HEA. While all books are standalones, the series must be read in order. It has mature situations and themes which may be considered triggers for some. Reader discretion is advised.* Releases on July 30, 2024.

☽｡⋆Love Not Qualified (Author Sent, Contemporary Romance)

Love Not Qualified is the second installment of the Lavish Love Series by Maeve Hazel. This novel features tropes such as secret identity, forced proximity, workplace romance, and he falls first. It’s perfect for readers who enjoy books by Lauren Asher and Ana Huang. Releases on August 6, 2024.

Super excited about these! I can't wait to read Lucy Undying especially💕

Bookstagram Booktwitter Goodreads

[deadeyemarkxman]

He -oddly enough- looked displeased. The marsh was his least favorite place needless to say; it was full of a repressive humidity that clung to one's fur and weighed them down. Plus the slippery, muddy floor made it difficult to move. Having to guide the fox around could prove to be more trouble than it's worth. But still, he made a deal...

"Very well. We'll head out at dawn. Too late to be traveling now. The snow will only get worse over night." He turned his back to Miles. "Take any room on the second floor. Just up the staircase in the main hall."

"Good." Prower quickly whipped his hand back, looking suspiciously at the other, before pulling out his hand-held computer. After a press of a couple of buttons a projection appeared on the nearby wall, showing the map of Hazen's kingdom. "It's about west from here. Looking over the maps, it's located somewhere around that marsh. Though this map may be outdated, so you should know better."

A pair of piercing blue eyes looked at the king, waiting for his reaction. "I need to get there, my readings cannot be any more specific otherwise."

[writtenfromthestars]

❝𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬❞ │ 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦.

┊　 　┊　 　┊　 　┊

┊　 　 ┊　 　┊　 ✧･ﾟ

┊　 　┊　 　 ✧･ﾟ

┊　 ✧･ﾟ

✧･ﾟ Amidst nocturne skies, and gently created from stardust, this blog of mine, merely a thought before, comes into existence, finding itself bathed in moonlight; a small piece of this ever-expanding universe that I sought to hold close to my heart. In a quest to find my own comfort and rediscover my passions, I express in hopeful tones that I wish for this little place to become of help to me.

You may call me Saturn — embracing complete honesty, anything should be fine, but I can only imagine that everyone deserves to have a name by which they can recognize their own identity, no? One way or another, among the infinite stars which form this environment, I will be focusing on creating constellations connected to writing. However, I cannot truly believe within my heart that we will be limited to that; certainly, you can expect to see me prattling on about one of my interests around here from time to time.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

⸺ ❝Silence woke them up in the early hours of the morning. It was always the silence that brought them out of their dreamless rest.❞

⸺ ･ ｡ﾟ☆:☽✧ ✦ ✧☾:☆ﾟ. ⸺

❛How might one find that which they search for when faced with a universe in constant expansion?❜. Well, my dearest, I'm beyond glad you asked! Just follow the stellar glow of the words below, and I promise, you will be able to escape searching through the myriad of planets that don't interest you all that much, allowing those eyes of yours to consume that which your heart desired from the beginning.

— 「 ⭐ 」 Teardrops of Stars Dream — 「 🌻 」 Português. — 「 🌼 」 English. — 「 🎨 」 Art — 「 ✒️ 」 Writing — 「 🐻 」 Original Writing — 「 🧸 」 Fanfiction — 「 🥦 」 My Hero Academia — 「 🐼 」 Jujutsu Kaisen — 「 🎣 」 Hunter x Hunter — 「 👺 」 Demon Slayer — 「 🎴 」 Tokyo Revengers — 「 🔍 」 Bungou Stray Dogs — 「 💌 」 Ouran High School Host Club — 「 👻 」 Jibaku Shōnen Hanako-kun — 「 ✨ 」 Genshin Impact — 「 🌌 」 Obey Me! One Master to Rule Them All! — 「 🪄 」 Obey Me! Nightbringer! — 「 🪡 」 Ikemen Sengoku — 「 🎼 」 Hatsune Miku: Colorful Stage! — 「 💉 」 Your Turn to Die: Death Game by Majority — 「 🍳 」 QSMP — 「 🕰️ 」 WIP — 「 🍀 」 (Un)lucky │ Yandere! OC's — 「 🌙 」 Condenada │ Yandere! Killua — 「 ❄️ 」 Deceptions of Snow │ Genshin Impact — 「 ⛸️ 」 Wandering on Ice! │ Genshin x Ice Skating AU! — 「 ♟️ 」 Checkmate │Kavetham — 「 🗝️ 」 Keymaster │ Your Turn to Die

— 「 🎤 」 Words into the Void — 「 🍵🫖 」 Tea Party Amidst the Stars — 「 📰 」 News from the Stars — 「 📮 」 Asks — Both requests and questions are always welcomed, and it will be a pleasure of mine to respond to each of them as soon as possible.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

「 🐇 」 A gentle warning that yours truly here doesn't write anything NSFW. The request which contains sexual matters to any extent will be cast into the void, to die slowly with no one there to witness its final moments. Which means, I will simply be deleting those types of requests.

「 ⚔️ 」 Now, concerning non-interaction, it's simple enough. Bigots and Zionists can head to the nearest exit, such a presence will never be welcomed. And for personal reasons, I would appreciate if blogs that are mostly NSFW could avoid interaction as well.

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰ ⭐ ꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

[askthebrokenones-fm]

☾   cute character questions   ☽

THE  BASICS.

NAME :  Egore Von Bite

AGE : Died when he was 21, been around for about 152 years, give or take

ZODIAC SIGN :  Sagittarius

ONE GOOD TRAIT :  Loyal

ONE BAD TRAIT :  Easy to anger

HABITS.

ONE BAD HABIT : Egore picks at the slowly deteriorating skin of his body when anxious. Especially his forearms and lower half of neck. It doesn't bleed but it does make a bit of a mess and is concerning to bystanders.

ONE GOOD HABIT : Egore will constantly ensure his hands are in tip top shape. Ever since he was given the strategies to keep his joints from falling into disrepair, he has made it a point to ensure his hands are as fluid as can be.

ONE HABIT THEY CAN’T BREAK : He can't kick his habit of grinding his teeth. He'll grind while concentrating, nervous, excited, everything. It's not good for his jaw, he knows, but its hard training himself to be less loose.

ONE THEY’VE BROKEN : He is better about tugging on his hair now. He used to pull at it when having meltdowns but he's gotten better about replacing the behavior with something else, like his cloak or coat.

WHAT THEY’RE AFRAID OF :  He never tells anyone, but Constance. He puts on a tough facade, especially around his murderer, and tries to pretend what happened doesn't bother him anymore, that he's over it and willing to take Constance's head if she tries something but... He's still terrified of her, deep down. He knows that it's irrational, that he's more powerful than Constance can ever hope of being, but the trauma remains. He's especially protective of his neck around her.

FAMILY.

THEIR PARENTS NAMES : Elizabeth and Henrik Von Bite

THEIR SIBLINGS NAMES : No siblings.

FAVORITE CHILDHOOD MEMORY : He doesn't have a lot of childhood memories he enjoys, but one that comes to mind is Nickle. She was a pet feral crow Egore had. She would visit his attic and he would slide bread and berries through the window to her.

FAVORITE CHILDHOOD TOY : He had a music box. It was a small thing he would try dissecting.

EMBARRASSING STORY : He has several stories of adjusting to his new anatomy when he came back to life, especially after he possessed his corpse. One memory is actually dragging himself back to the Hatchaway Manor after possessing his waterlogged corpse. He slipped and fell in several puddles of mud due to his wobbly knees. By the time he got back, he was more a swamp monster than demon.

FAVORITE FAMILY MEMBER : His grandparents on his father's side, by a long shot.

A STORY ABOUT THAT FAMILY MEMBER :  They would visit frequently, being he was their only grandchild from his father. They were the ones to give him the music box and ignite his love of music. He remembers vividly, his grandfather showing him how to play the baby grand in their foyer.

WHAT  THEY  PREFER.

COFFEE OR TEA ?  Coffee. Black, like his soul.

SHOWERING IN THE DAY OR NIGHT ?  He prefers showering in the day. He purposefully showers in cold water, to wake him up and also because he's still not entirely used to his core.

TAKING BATHS OR TAKING SHOWERS ?  Showers. The idea of a bath makes his skin crawl. Why would you sit in your own filth like that?

TV OR MOVIES ?  WRITING OR READING ?  Movies and reading. He does some writing, but he doesn't think his writing is very good. Only his scores are in his mind.

PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC LOVE ?  Platonic. Egore doesn't really like the idea of romantic love. Whether he was always like that and was forced by societal standards or if it was purely Constance's doing is a mystery to him.

ICED TEA OR LEMONADE ?  Iced tea. He doesn't like lemonade.

ICE CREAM OR SMOOTHIES ? Ice cream.

CUPCAKES OR CAKE ? Cake.

FAVOURITES.

SONG : Chopin, Etude Op. 10 No. 4

BAND : No particular band. He goes for anything jazz or classical.

OUTFIT :  He loves his cloak he would a person. If he could wear only that, he's set. Otherwise, a button up and slacks serve him well.

PLACE : He likes just sitting in the Mansion's library. He likes the Devil's Library just as well, but the Mansion has a different feeling to it. He doesn't feel pressured to learn or grab the books and sift through them. It's a place to let go a little.

MEMORY : It's blurry. He has a memory of someone wrapping a blanket over his shoulders while he was sick. He remembers it was raining outside and remembers that the person started a fire after. He remembers they said something that made him feel instantly at ease and he remembers leaning against them as he faded asleep. But he doesn't remember their face or their voice, or even what they said. It's one that comforts him but always bewilders him.

PERSON : Sinclair. He finds Sinclair to be his favorite.

MOVIE : Coraline.

SHOW : He doesn't watch any shows, but if he did, it would probably be Unsolved Mysteries.

TAGGED BY : No one in particular. A redo

TAGGING : Anyone who wants to do this

[deadeyemarkxman]

Sweats as he remembers the fem version of himself.