#i was gonna add more drawings but i don't feel like drawing anymore of this ship rn

[nitro-box]

is it rlly possible for a evil cyborg scientist and a guardian spirit to be in a relationship??

[sumbarbietingz]

Brats give the best head.

(This is a repost since mf tumblr flagged it)

"Mmpphh. Mmpphhmp... Chu'kna..."

"Don't talk with your mouth full brat... it's rude you know that?"

Sukuna says between grunts, while you're bobbing up and down on one of his abnormally thick cocks, as you're stroking with both hands the other that has been drenched with saliva. You know, most people don't usually suck on a 13 inches penis easily, especially when there are two of them, not to mention the girth. But most people aren't Ryomen Sukuna's little brat. You can't count how many times he punished you with them after an argument or for simply talking back. It came to a point where all your holes took the shape of his twins, expanding them so you could be ruined for other men for good. This is what he planned since the day he met you. And the girl who struggled to go all the way down is gone. You're now sucking him like a pro, twisting your head and hands in ways that make him growl. You go up and down with ease, making the nastiest, most animalistic groans and slurping sounds that you know drive the King of Curses insane. Of course, your soft and plump pink and brown lips wrapped around him and sliding with ease adds some sensations. But aside from the amazing feeling you're giving him, what he loves the most is the slutty, dirty look you’re always giving him. Your hollowed cheeks as you take him in your mouth, your nose heavily running like you are a 2 yo old on a cold day, your face fresh with tears and smeared makeup and covered with saliva, these lusty, fuck me eyes you’re giving him while making bubbles of spit on his large cock feels like heaven. But Sukuna is a greedy man. He pushes your head, increasing the slurping noises and his pleasure.

“Fuuuuuuuck brat. Taking my cocks like the goooood whore that you are… trained my bratty girl so well…” You hum in confirmation, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through him. He hisses and groans but almost loses it once he feels you playing with his huge drenched balls and gooch. Now he’s moaning, it’s music to your ears. He stops pushing your head to grip your coils with one hand, his claws scratching your scalp as his other hands grip the bedsheets, threatening to tear them apart. You look him in the eyes as you’re bobbing your head up and down, stroking his other dick with one hand while massaging his wet balls and gooch with the other. You let more and more saliva drip down his length, the slurps and gagging sounds increasing as you go deeper and faster. You notice your king drooling and heavily breathing as you’re sucking his soul. So you decide to switch cocks, making a real mess on him and your face. You suck one and suck on the other all while keeping your drenched hands busy. Sukuna bites his lips so hard he might draw blood, he’s getting closer and closer to the edge, you’re making him feel so good he feels like he’s going to explode. You’re so nasty and disgusting, he has never seen anyone like you before, and that’s exactly what he wanted. You can hear the sheets getting torn out by his claws from how tightly he’s gripping them.

“Y/n, I- I’m gonna…. I'm gonna c-cum…” Then that’s when you decide to deliver the final blow. Your tongue starts licking his frenulum fervently, one hand massages the tip of his other cock, and the other is now only focused on his gooch. He can barely talk anymore. He groans so loudly the sound resonates in the entire room. He shoots his salty cum right in your mouth, so you close it to feel everything and not waste a single drop of it. You feel the warm sticky semen dripping on your hand from his other cock. While you suckle on his tip a little, you look at him, his red eyes half lidded and see how out of breath he is, this look of bliss he got on his face. You take him out of your mouth to swallow his cum and lick what he has spilled on your hand. Then you pull out your pink tongue to show him that you swallowed everything. He hums softly, slowly catching his breath, and grabs your wet cheeks with one hand, admiring your state. Your cheeks covered in saliva, your wet lips, your fucked up makeup… now he wanna see you fucked out and boneless.

“Good girl. Always pleasing me. Seems like you deserve a reward, don't you?” You nod eagerly, already anticipating what’s coming. “Yes Sukuna~”

Header: Cinnabus on twitter

Taglist: @imm0rtalbutterfly @blushingbelle @nsfwinami @that-weeb-in-ur-closet

[claynine]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write about Muzan in his final form getting pegged by the reader? And maybe add some pet play if that's okay for you?

Thought I'd do this ask as the first one back lol, hope you enjoy! (Btw I'm working on all the requests I have, dont worry! ♡)

Warning: bondage, pet-play, praise, pegging,

Embarrassed, he felt absolutely embarrassed yet... he couldn't deny that he liked it. The way your hands were squeezing his plump thighs, nails digging into his skin, leaving red stripes along the way. It felt delicious, making his mouth water.

"Tell me, Muzan-sama..." you purred, you're fangs showing as you smirked up at him. You gripped his thighs again, earning a grunt from him. "Are you... my good boy?"

He glared weakly at you, no, no, he's the demon lord. But... the thought of being a good boy, no, of being your good boy... it made his head spin into a mind space were he couldn't do anything else but say...

"Yes..." he said quietly, almost to soft for your liking. "I am..."

You smiled, pulling yourself up. He looked beautiful, his hands tied tightly to the headboard of his king size bed. His white locks creating a halo around his head, his face showing nothing but lust. Truly, a masterpiece.

"Good, I guess then... I should give my good boy a prize, right?" He tensed at your words, feeling suddenly lightheaded at what he saw.

You pulled your kimono off, showing your bear body, and a white, big strap on. He burned holes at you, hating the idea of being fucked by you instead of fucking you. He could easily break free from his restraints, kill you on the spot, yet... he couldn't. Fuck, he couldn't.

You grabbed his marked thighs, spreading them apart. You poked his entrance with the tip of the strap, looking at his reaction. He sucked in a deep breath, brazing himself, he didn't stop you, he couldn't stop you, not when he felt so good just by being weak against you.

"My good boy..." you leaned forward, and bit his exposed neck, he gasped softly as you begin to push inside him.

It was big, too big. Heck, maybe even bigger than his own. And that made it hotter.

"Fuck you." he glared at you as you pulled away from him, smiling. The darkness of his room enhanced the brightness of his red eyes.

"Muzan-sama, that's not nice." You pushed all the way inside him, he chocked on his spit.

"F-fuck-..." you leaned forward again, pushing one of his legs on your shoulder, letting the tip press directly on his prostate. He swore he was seeing stars.

"Especially since I plan on fucking you really good..." he looked down as you pulled out, almost entirely.

"Agh! W-wait... shit-" you thrust inside him fully, watching his stomach bulge at the size of your dick.

He moaned loudly, and you enjoyed the sound. Thrusting inside him roughly, rearranging his guts nicely and thoroughly. Making sure he felt as much pleasure as possible. And fuck he was feeling it.

"Y-yes... fuck yes...!" He moaned, his nails digging into his palm, drawing blood. His body felt hot, as if he was in hell right now, and still he felt like he was in heaven at the same time.

The room was filled with his moans, the sticky clap of your hips meeting his. Your eyes stuck to his face. Big red eyes rolled back, tears forming.

"More, more-" he tried to look at you straight in the eye, so he could demand you to go harder. But his eyes flew to the back of his head with every delicious hit the tip of your strap landed on his prostate.

"So cute, my little master, hm?" He didn't comprehend what you said anymore.

"Cum-... gonna- gonna cum-" he tried to alarm, as his pleasure weld up into a ball, ready to explode at any second, one more thrust, just one-

He looked at you in shock as you stopped. His eyes filled with tears, a weak glare directed your way.

"Do you deserve to cum?" You asked him, you thrusted into him harshly, he moaned out, on the brink of his orgasm. "I don't think you do..."

He felt like crying, even though he already was unbeknownst to him. He moved his hips desperately, looking for any friction.

"Don't- don't stop-" he finally used his force, breaking out of his restraints, but to your surprise he didn't use his freedom to kill you.

He gripped your hips, his tentacles appearing out of nowhere, they wrapped themselves around you.

"Cum, let me cum, I'm a good boy!" His deep, demanding voice now unrecognizable. "Please-"

You gripped his hips tightly, and began moving faster than before. Your lips twisted into a smirk, you kissed him, swallowing his moans.

Muzan on the other hand was crying. He felt too good, his senses turned to mush, electricity flowing through his body. He gripped the sheets, tearing holes in them. You pulled away letting his screams of pleasure consume the room.

"Cumming, Cumming, fuuuck-" his trapped your body as he came, biting your shoulder, you moaned in pain.

His stomach was stained white with his cum, he continued to twitch as you pulled out slowly. His eyes closed shamely as his cheeks turned pink. How was he going to explain this...?

Obviously the uppermoons heard, as the next day he clearly walked funny. And even though all the demons were quiet, a certain demon with rainbow eyes couldn't hold his giggles.

Don't copy.

Property of clay9z.

[alllgator-blood]

I s2g if you add the layers of these comic pages together, it's over 350 layers. THIS is why I don't do full color for my comics lmaooo- ANYWAY EVERYONE HERE HAS AN AU APPARENTLY, SO THIS IS A BRIEF GLIMPSE INTO MINE. I don't know what to call it yet but I'm thinking of calling it "famous prophets" because 1. I like that car seat headrest song, 2. it's about shamura who is prophetic, 3. it's about trying to outrun fate with the Power of Love (and failing. Like the song!!!). It takes place when all the bishops were teens/kids during the age of hundreds of gods at war, and were trying to survive as a family.

I'm really excited to work on stuff for it but it's all gonna be drawn out of order. Maybe I'll write a full explanation of what it's gonna be about when I have a better idea...I want to channel my eldest sibling angst in a productive way, and maybe establish a QPP between shamura and a completely random npc everyone forgets about <3 also kallamar is trans too cause I said so. I'll do a comic about it eventually. Instead of an absence of gender he has TOO much gender. It simply cannot be contained.

I like that nonbinary genders are normalized in cult of the lamb to the point where nobody singles anyone out for being a they/them, it's not like "THIS IS MY SIBLING SHAMURA. THEY ARE NONBINARY AND USE THEY/THEM. ALRIGHT BACK TO KILLING YOU", it's just like "don't you fucking dare make my poor sibling wake up from their nap to kick your ass. Cause they deserve better than this."

But at the same time I like having the freedom to be more specific, and say "shamura is voidpunk and their gender is best described as the feeling that overtakes you during the first snow of the year, when everything outside is deathly quiet". This comic is actually derived from the time I was walking through a forest that's been torn down for a few years, and came out to my little sister as trans. I must've been like 13 or 14 and she didn't really get it as a 10 year old, but it was better than my mom FREAKING OUT about me coming out. So it was a nice little bonding moment between just the two of us. I don't have a good memory so I don't recall how it went unfortunately...

Now, the climate is a little different. My sis tried out transmasculinity for maybe 5-6 years before feeling happier as a woman, my mom is trying to be Based and flaunt her Woke trans children, and my dad remembered "oh yeah trans natives have existed before colonization. Maybe me being transphobic is a product of my culture being erased" and has gotten better about calling me the right thing. I have a mustache (thanks pcos!!) and wear skirts and am not a repressed "tomboy" teenager anymore. But I can't help but wonder what would've happened if I could've been like shamura and just...been nonbinary without people being fucking weird about it. Or been born as a badass war god who will tear you to shreds before you can perceive my birth sex. I know they're fictional but they are my ultimate gender envy GRRRRR BARK BARK BARK

Here is the secret image for this post- I listen to mostly EDM when I draw cause it keeps the energy up, but as I was finishing up shamura's poetry part, I was like THESE ARE JUST KMFDM LYRICS so I made this

[dreamsy990]

GOD DESIGNS TAKE 2 im much happier with these ones. also calypso and circe here now. once again gonna discuss all my ideas behind the designs and the changes i made to the old ones THIS TIME WITH PROPER GRAMMAR. you guys should consider yourself lucky. so yeah closeups and explanations under the cut

(lineup for scale btw)

So some general notes before I get into the specific designs. These guys are mostly an excuse to make designs that can be just about anything! I operate off the idea that gods can choose how they appear (within some limitations), and so they can just look however they like. The big in-universe limitation with them is that any scars or injuries they may have can't be hidden in any way. For recognizability reasons, I try to always include their main symbols or some allusion to their domain in their designs, and for personal preference, I like to give all the gods weird looking eyes.

Aeolus

My Aeolus design hasn't changed very much at all since my first sketch of them. I like the idea of Aeolus as sort of fluid in shape, mostly just looking like a bunch of clouds that reshapes itself however they like. This sort of abstract and a little cartoony aspect of them led to me giving them a silhouette like an old cartoon character! Their design honestly isn't meant for coloring in this style, but whenever I do color them, I like to make it mostly light pink and blue. Subtly trans-colored Aeolus my beloved.

Hermes

Hermes mostly just changed with coloring. I have an obsession with very limited palettes, and I feel a little bad giving one to Hermes of all characters, but honestly I'm the most proud of his design. I gave him a messenger bag in some of my earliest sketches of him and I've loved that element ever since. The biggest change here is the jacket! Not period typical at all but it's so iconic to Troy and COME ON HE NEEDED IT. I think it makes his silhouette a lot more interesting, even if I simplified the rest of his outfit to compensate. I might do another pass to try and add some color back to him, but for right now this design feels very fun.

Athena

My Athena design has stayed very consistent since I settled on committing to the bird aspect, so thank @irunaki for being an owlthena truther (SOMEONE PLEASE REMIND ME TO DRAW IRUNAKIS ATHENA BTW). Not that I color her much like an owl. This pass at Athena I mostly used to simplify the blue. I needed to include it on her design, but I've been struggling with how for a while, and adding it as just a subtle accent on a mostly grey and black design felt very fitting. Visually she might read more like a magpie than an owl, but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make!

Anyway, Athena here is meant to read as very visually closed off, with her face partially obscured and her wings wrapped around herself like a cloak. I want her to have a lot of distance between herself and others at most times, and I think that does nicely. The shadow over her eye was an aspect I added before I found out she lost an eye, which is a funny coincidence. I also designed her to both parallel and contrast my Odysseus design. They both have cloaks that partially obscure them, they both have scars on their faces (although Athena is able to hide hers), but they have opposite color schemes (Athena being mostly blue black and silver while Odysseus is red white and gold). On a personal note, I like the idea of Athena resembling Poseidon. Not for any thematic reasons, I just think it's fun. So she has a grey-ish skintone like him (to a lesser extent, but still) and long black hair, too. I love designs that resemble other designs.

Apollo

I believe I actually originally took inspiration from Gigi's Hermes, But I think he's different enough by now that the resemblance doesn't really exist anymore. He was also the start of my idea to draw the gods with weird looking eyes, so I refuse to change his. I don't actually have all that much to say about him? My original notes for him were that he should be a WHORE and I hope that idea has stuck lmao. He's probably the oldest design here (minus Athena, but my early sketches of her are pretty unrecognizable) and yet I'm still very happy with him. My biggest struggle with design is that I DESPERATELY wanted to color his hair like GinjaNinja's oc Kynthia but I have NO CLUE where to start with coloring like that. So we must suffer. Thaaats all I have to say on Apollo. I think a couple people in the Epic discord really liked him lol.

Hephaestus

I FORGOT TO DRAW HEPHAESTUS THE FIRST TIME OH MY GOD. I'M SO SORRY HEPHAESTUS FANS I LITERALLY FORGOT HE EXISTED. His design gave me the MOST trouble in coloring, I had to completely redo it partway through. I'm still somewhat unhappy with him, but oh well. I like Hephaestus looking very much like a sort of intimidating father who's actually really sweet, and I think I got that look across. He's got a resting bitch face but he is so nice. I gave him glasses on impulse, and it sort of completes the dad look to me. He's got some burn scars under his gloves from working in the forge, for an extra detail. I made all the other gods scars gold, but I think burn scars work differently than normal scars? I need to do more research, sorry! I love Hephaestus though. I'll probably end up doing another take on him if I feel like drawing him again, but it's nice to have at the least something down.

I liked the initial idea behind my Aries design, but it felt very poorly executed before. I'm a bit unhappy with this take still, but I like it better than I did before! I decided to make all the gods scars gold, so his are recolored accordingly, and I made myself bring the red back into his design. Again, he's meant to have a resemblance to Athena while still contrasting her. So he's also very animalistic, with him being more of a dog of some kind (I DEFINITELY took the dog idea from someone else but I CAN'T remember who). He's got roughly the same outfit, but a scarf instead of a cloak, so he looks less controlled and closed off than she does. Anyway, I dislike this specific drawing of him, but I like the general idea of this Ares, so I'll figure it out eventually. Definitely the one I'm least happy with here. I like the drawing without his helmet, though, I think he's cute :>

Aphrodite

So my Aphrodite design initially wasn't very thought out. I originally just sort of threw something together and called it a day, and I wasn't happy with it, but I also wasn't sure which direction I'd like to go with her. This time, uh, I actually have the same problem. I ended up liking this take on her a lot more, though! She takes a lot of inspiration from Rose Quartz, which WAS on purpose actually. There's also once again a lot of inspiration taken from Gigi's Aphrodite design, specifically in the outfit. I feel like with Aphrodite there's a lot of temptation to just give her a dress, but I like her looking a little too casual for any given scenario. I like this one a lot.

Hera

THIS ISN'T MY PEAK DESIGN BUT BY GOD I'M JUST HAPPY I MADE THIS STUPID DRESS WORK. The original inspiration for this idea comes from this video by June and their design for their character Hokoto in a Miraculous au. That specific design for some reason is INGRAINED into my mind and every time I draw a character in some way inspired by peacocks, that's what comes to mind. I think this design is pretty distinct from that one. AUGH I don't have much to say on her just look at my favorite old lady I love her she's so pretty.

Poseidon

ABSOLUTE CRYPTID!!! SEA MONSTER ENERGY!!!!!!! I was like "lets make poseidon a little cunty and a little bit of a weird creature" AND IT WAS THE GREATEST DECISION I HAVE EVER MADE. Cut out the blue from his design entirely to just be grey, and I think I like that decision. I also think the Epic discord liked him because I sent my sketch of him and someone responded with "why he kinda" so I TAKE THAT AS A WIN!! Absolute bastard man I hope Odysseus stabs him more.

Zeus

HATE THIS GUY HATE THIS GUY HATE THIS GUY. Absolute freak man I hope Hera brutally murders him. Anyway, I love this design, just not this specific drawing of it lol. I wanted his hair to look like clouds originally, but wasn't sure how to do that without stepping on Aeolus' toes, until I had the sudden idea that they should be stormclouds instead! So that's pretty cool. His scarf kinda looks like lightning. Also. Bro put your tits away. That is all I have to say on Zeus.

Circe

Didn't want to copy Gigi's design here, and I think I did a pretty good job of not doing that. She had brown eyes originally, but I asked the Epic discord what they thought and they decided yellow eyes looked better on her (AND THEY WERE RIGHT). I gave her yellow roses too (not sure if they read as roses though), because 1) aromantic Circe is real and true and 2) I just liked the idea of her having the least romantic version of a flower very associated with romance as part of her design. Her ass is not into you! I hope she kills and maims! Wanted to give her a snake earring but you couldn't see her ears here so. Just assume she has one of those.

Calypso

Okay, so this Calypso design basically appeared fully formed in my sketchbook a little while ago. I've changed very little except adding red flowers. Why? NO REASON actually there is a reason. I was writing a Calypso-centric fic and I mentioned her having bright red flowers in her hair and then I just made that part of my vision of her. Gave her uh, a weird fish net thing for lack of a better word? Because it made her more interesting and gave me island vibes. Which is what Calypso should be doing! I wanted to include more red on her design so the flowers didn't feel a bit out of place, so I gave her some red on her other accessories. I THINK SHE'S CUTE AND I LIKE HER. Man these notes got less and less design-related as I went along, huh. Oh well, I'm done now. Those are my god designs +2 because I consider nymphs their own category (Is Circe a nymph? I'm pretty sure she is but I don't care enough to check)

[elvenbeard]

Old and Happy

😭 my feels have been all over the place since I finally finished this! Don't even remember when I started, as I kept working on and off on it over a couple of months. But I think it was after writing something particularly angsty and going "you know what, they will get their happy ending though, so it's all good".

Some details and thoughts below the read more cause it got long hhhh ;A;

This is in about 2087 maybe, roughly "ten years later". Vince changed his hair, ditched the rattail for good (or again xD) for something still colorful but a bit more easy to style. But he might change it up again, he's done so repeatedly and still likes to experiment with his hair.

Not visible, he probably would've added some elements to his back tattoo after surviving all of 2077. Johnny's tattoo he covered up as well, he would've done that first probably before the back piece. Adding some things here and there over time, with colors and patterns and wings, some cherry blossoms ('cause a thing of beauty will never truly fade away - hence just not getting laser removal but covering it with something that suits him more, but keeping some elements like the J and V visible). It started with three roses below the "V" as a little homage to Jackie, and 2077 as the year that finally put him on the right track in his life, even if it almost killed him in the process.

Overall he is a healthier weight than he was for most of his life, and finally got some therapy he desperately needed to deal with all the crap he went through pre-2077 already. He's not dyeing his first grey hairs because hell, that he's even still around to get some is amazing with his line of work and life story. And he realized that there's no need to be super well put togeher 24/7, clean shaven and whatnot, when you know you're just gonna be hanging out with your man and cat all weekend (and actually allowing yourself to something like that - leisure time and pizza in bed, unheard of to 2077!Vince). He's doing good and feels good and comfortable, physically and mentally.

Kerry also changed, also embracing the dad bod over abs, probably still experimenting with his looks a lot now and then whenever the label feels like they need to draw attention to him for whatever reason. But to the brown eyes he returned in 2078 already in my headcanon for the Sun ending timeline, and he stuck with them.

Overall I think he might finally care a little less about other people's opinions too, the buzz and the drama, cause he knows that at the end of the day there's always gonna be someone waiting for him at home who loves him unconditionally. He's a bit calmer and at ease, but of course still up to no good whenever he gets the chance to stir shit up xD Vince and him remain to be a dangerous duo you don't wanna mess with. At that point Vince is a well-respected, even if somewhat elusive, fixer, so he's probably even more dangerous now than he used to be as a mere merc with an arsenal of connections and resources at his disposal that can almost rival Kerry's.

I also gave Kerry a lil new cyberware piece on his hand - he is an old man and I think, using his hands as a musician on the daily, at some point there's just gonna be some wear and tear to your bones and joints only tech can fix anymore... Especially if you're stubborn and refuse to retire cause no, you're not done yet, you still have so much to yell into the world and music to make, stuff to add to your legacy and all.

Last but not least: Nibbles is an old lady already as well here, but living her best life with her dads spoiling her rotten, of course!

And then öalkshjdfagsdföasgdfaösfh ;___;

Y'know, "to bad decisions" and all, and two very different pieces still fitting together perfectly somehow, and light and shadows, and the sun and moon and yeah. ;___; Brb crying, the feels are back xD

Thanks so much for reading if you made it this far!! They mean so much to me and aösdjhfajsfhasfk could go on forever about every little detail xD On to the next drawing!

[kociakarma]

Hiii I really love your art and was wondering if you wouldnt mind showing what kind of brushes you use for your recent drawings thank you so much and i look forward to your future arts!

Of course! I've answered this a few times before but have never really tagged it properly, and I also realised that I've never actually explained what I use each brush for so I'll do that now!:

I'm gonna go through each of these brushes in order (and if i remember correctly, I'll link the top two since they arent default CSP brushes). (NOTE: almost all of these brushes have anti-aliasing turned off so that it can look more crispy and pixely!!! there is one exception to this that I will get into)

For this brush, I exclusively use it for sketching, it's advertised for inking digital manga panels, but with how the pen pressure is I feel like it adds form to my sketches

This brush, Sleuth-y Pen, is what I use mostly for MSPFA panels, mostly for lining, but sometimes for sketching too if I'm having a hard time with my usual sketching pen. It's really good if you want to replicate the homestuck style, and good for broad strokes on smaller canvases. The only issue is that the brush isn't great for that style if you use it on a larger canvas (ideally you would want 650 x 450) and can be especially messy if you're trying to get smaller details, such as open mouths, and certain facial details. I use another brush for that, which I will get into soon.

My second use for the sleuthy pen is for lineart on larger canvases in my usual artstyle! It has a texture to it that I like, as I like having my art appear a little rough around the edges, and the issue regarding small details isn't nearly as prominent of a problem

Almost done! Now we have the G-pen, a default CSP brush! This used to be one of my top 2 pens, along with its counterpart "Real G-pen" but nowadays I use it for two things: clean-up during rendering (usually getting those smaller details done that the sleuthy pen has difficulty with) and for doing SOME MSPFA panels (Vast Error, for example)

As you can see here, Liaaam's face is a little smoother than the rest of him, that's because I use the G-pen for those details, to keep things a lot cleaner! As for my other use, Vast Error's style from my understanding is a lot more "smooth" and "clean" which is why I exclusively use the G-pen for it, you can also make a lot of thick, juicy brush strokes with it which I feel works really well for the hair and folds in the clothes!

Finally, the Real G-pen, another default. This one is very similar to the last, its only differences are that it's slightly sharper and ever so slightly more messy. It's almost like a medium between the sleuth-y pen, and the g-pen.

I'll be honest, I don't use this pen much anymore, BUT, I still consistently use it for one thing and one thing only: Friendsim sprites. If you want to make friendsim sprites I highly suggest this pen, and making sure it's set to "weak" antialiasing. If you want to go the extra mile, I like to use a lasso-fill tool to block out shadows in all of my art, although if I'm using a rougher brush I'll usually do that manually. There's also other brushes I've been using more for rendering full pieces, such as a "rake brush" and a "design pencil" with low pressure to get details like blush down without making it too intense. That's basically it! I'll link the brushes below if I can find them: sleuth-y pen textured pen rake brush

[shadowsegregious]

some jammy n pip i swear i didnt forget ab them 🩷💙i wanted to add some fun facts pages!!! so theyre under the cut

sorry if the questions are lame/generic 😭

Favorite movie?

🍓OH, FOR SURE LEGALLY BLONDE. ELLE WOODS IS TOTALLY KICKASS!

🫐 hm…i think i like a goofy movie. i like the music. or probably bridge to terabithia.

Favorite colors?

*They glance at each other, amused.

🍓BLUE!

🫐pink.

*For some reason you feel as though you’re not in on the joke…

Favorite book?

🍓UM, WELL LEMME THINK…I WOULD HAVE TO SAY “SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY: COCO CHANEL.” I PICKED IT UP THINKING IT WOULD BE MORE ABOUT FASHION LIKE MY MAGAZINES, BUT IT TURNED OUT TO BE A NONFICTION DRAMA!!! IT’S SUCH AN INTERESTING TALE ABOUT SUCH A MYSTERIOUS PERSON!!

🫐i like my archie comics. my copy of “the physics of everyday things.”

Favorite song?

🍓GIRLFRIEND BY HEMLOCKE SPRINGS!! IT HAS SUCH A FUN BEAT IT JUST MAKES ME WANNA GET UP AND DANCE!

🫐another believer by rufus wainwright. feels right.

Biggest fear?

🍓JEEZ, I’M NOT SO SURE! I PRIDE MYSELF ON BEING AS BRAVE AS I CAN BE!! (ESPECIALLY FOR MY LITTLE BROTHER OVER THERE, EHEH) BUT I THINK I WOULD HAVE TO SAY…BEING FORGOTTEN? MAYBE THAT’S A BIT TOO DREARY.

🫐…

*It looks like he doesn’t want to say.

Any hobbies?

🍓MY BROTHER AND I QUITE ENJOY BAKING! IT'S JUST SOMETHING WE HAVE ALWAYS DONE TOGETHER. HE ALSO LIKES TO DRAW AND HE IS INCREDIBLE AT IT! YOU SHOULD SEE HIS ARTWORK!!!

🫐jeez, pip...

*Jam is blushing a harsh indigo.

🍓HEHEH, I'M SORRY, BROTHER. I ALSO LOVE TO DO MY OWN MAKEUP AND CREATE CLOTHING! I FOUND AN OLD SEWING MACHINE AT THE DUMP ONCE BUT IT DOESN'T WORK ANYMORE. OH WELL!

Any regrets?

🍓HM..I ONCE WENT TO SEE A MTT SHOW LIVE. I REALLY WANTED TO ASK THEM FOR AN AUTOGRAPH BUT HAD GOTTEN..ADMITTEDLY A BIT NERVOUS AND INSTEAD WENT HOME! SUCH A SHAME REALLY.

*Jam pulls you aside.

🫐hey, don't tell him anything, but i totally got that poster for 'em. gyftmas this year is gonna be awesome, heh.

[groovy-rat-man]

Random baseless punch out wii headcanon time!!

I KEEP TRYING TO SAVE THIS TO DRAFTS BUT IT KEEPS POSTING INSTEAD BUT FUCK IT WE BALL (i might add more stuff or change things but this is what I've got so far)

Doc Louis

Hes not the step dad he's the dad who stepped up

Hes got a tshirt that says that and every time he wears it in public mac dies a little inside

Hes also got pictures of him and mac together in his wallet that he likes showing off to people

Im gonna take this time and tell you about this crackship I like. Idk why but doc louis/gabby jay is just very cute to me and i wanted to share that with you

Little Mac

Everyone makes him transmasc, everyone makes him autistic, everyone makes him selectively mute and I just so happen to be part of everyone soooo...

I might however be projecting myself onto him just a little bit but whatev

Him and Birdie are like brothers to me, not biologically but still <3

Pretty awkward around his fans, especially the ones who don't respect his personal space (looking at YOU, nameless women in super macho man's title defense intro😡)

Got called into the counselors office at his school a lot because he was always covered in bruises, every time he just showed them his latest match on his phone like "yeah don't worry everything cool at home I just get my ass kicked as my job"

Tries to be friendly with all his opponents, or at least decent with them

~~~~

Glass Joe

I read the first couple chapters of this fic and now it's just canon to me, he is a single girldad and there is nothing you can do to change that

Well I say "dad" but sometimes I like to make her transfemme just because I can so when I do that she's still a milf instead

Has always had fucked up bones and joints and health problems and stuff, boxing just made it CONSIDERABLY worse lol

Gabby Jay is like his uncle or something

Sleeps like 3 hours a night and hasn't drank water in like 10-20 years, this freak is living off of coffee, bread, wine, cigarettes, and NOTHING else

Tried to be blond, it didn't work on him

The only reason he haven't died in the ring is because god is punishing him for his hubris

His one win was when Nick Bruiser died in the ring due to a completely unrelated brain aneurism

Von Kaiser

Used to crossdress back in his younger years, he may not do it as much anymore but he still has his dresses

Actually enjoys his job as a boxing teacher! He likes instilling knowledge on the next generation

Complete neat freak, trys to suppress it as much as he can but it's always there in the back of his mind

Definitely has SOMETHING wrong with him but thinks that if he doesn't get it diagnosed then it's not really a problem

Probably has like prosthetics or metal implants in his joints or bones or something, idk why else he'd make the noises he does

Disco Kid

I like to think that he does drag in his free time, makes you wonder if him and VK ever talk about it

Can fully SPRINT in high heels, hell he could probably fight in them too if they'd let him

Always has at least a little bit of glitter on him, it's a curse

Boxing is more of a hobby for him than a career, he's just having fun with it

Always makes sure his friends are safe and having fun whenever they go out somewhere

King Hippo

Scares babies and small children on accident just by being around them and feels REALLY bad about it

The first time he met glass joes daughter he made her cry and still hasn't gotten over it

Whenever fans ask him for a signature he either writes it in the most beautiful handwriting you've ever seen or he just draws a lil hippo with a crown, which one you get depends on how he's feeling

Has a storage unit somewhere filled to the brim with all those shitty blenders that had to be recalled

He still tries to pawn them off on people, too, if he ever tries to get you a gift for like your birthday or something you just know it's one of those shitty blenders

Oh and the "king" in king hippo isn't a stage name, he is actual flesh and royalty. His subjects seem to think highly of him and he treats them well. He does a pretty good job running things too but to be fair his kingdom isn't all that big, just one tiny island that isn't on any maps.

He usually doesn't hold his title over people's heads, mostly he's just some guy

Fully CANNOT swim but he can hold his breath for ages and just sort of walks on the ocean floor (gee, almost like his namesake)

Knows what gender is, does not care for it

Likes to sketch and draw :)

~~~~

Piston Hondo

Possibly aromantic? I don't really know and I don't think he knows either.

God why don't I have any headcanons for him?? He's my fucking wife!!!!

Ok I KNOW I said he's my wife but i saw like one person make him and Bear Hugger queer platonic partners and im in love with that idea

I feel like of the two he's the one who was most concerned with putting labels on it and trying to figure out what exactly they were but eventually just decided that even if they're not in a romantic relationship they can still be soulmates and I think thats beautiful

Hes a sweet guy but he can be pretty awkward around people lol

EXCELLENT cook like you have NO IDEA

Bear Hugger

Does NOT know his own strength. He'll go to hug somebody and and break their ribs, he'll go to open a jar and shatter it into pieces. He's trying his best to be gentle but good god.

Also the gay kind of bear (the stage name was on purpose)

Can actually literally for real life talk to animals. No fucking clue how he does it, i guess it's just a Canadian thing

Lost his squirrel after losing in title defense and was DEVASTATED, but DONT WORRY the squirrel was fine

The "i like raw fish" line isn't about sushi, be just sticks his head in a river and comes out with a live salmon in his teeth

Great Tiger

Has at least one if not a plethora of cats (one of which is a British shorthair cause I feel like that's the kind of cat he'd like)

"I feed you, I home you, I give you all the treats and toys you could ask for, and what do you do? You scratch up my furniture and knock over all my nice cups! What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Mmmrrp?😺"

"Hmph, you're lucky you're cute..."

Magic is a difficult thing to control so sometimes when he sneezes he teleports, happesnt to the best of us

It took him weeks to fully resolidify after getting poofed my mac in title defense so for a while parts of his body were just vapor

If i ever draw him I'm gonna give him widdle kitty fangs, trust me

Still trying to work on his music career, the dumbass

Him and don like to gossip together like catty bitches

Don Flamenco

Carmen 100% tops him, I will not elaborate (at least not until I finish my fanfic)

#1 bi4bi couple ever

Whenever he drinks he literally does not shut up about her

"Me gusta mi esposa porque es suave y cálida y bonita y amable conmigo🥰🥰"

Sure, alright dude

I know it's HEAVILY implied that Carmen left him after he lost to mac the first time but I choose to think that he just lost all his self worth and was CONVINCED that she was gonna leave him

That... might actually be worse now that i think about it

But whatever, in the long run they get married and have twins and grow old together and it's great<3

She likes him better without his toupee, more room for kisses<3<3

"I'd kill someone for you, PLEASE ask me to kill someone for you..."

Hes tried on her lingerie more times than he's like to admit, it's gotten to the point where she just bought him his own. She wasn't upset about him stealing her clothes, she was upset because pink is NOT his color

Also I'm sorry that literally all of these are about him and Carmen, I didn't mean to do that

He is a complete giga bitch to everyone except her

I like it when people interpret mac as being Hispanic because I feel like he'd try and start a conversation with don and he'd be like "Lo siento, no hablo inglés. (Lying)" and mac would just be like "¡Oh, está bien! Así que, como te decía..." and dons just like GOD FUCKING DAMNIT

~~~~

Aran Ryan

He used to be normal, but then they put him in a room. A rubber room. A rubber room with rats. The rats made him crazy.

Does not know Irish and refuses to learn because it reminds him of being in school and he fucking HATED being in school

Probably because of the adhd or whatever is going on with his brain

Will break somebody's nose if they make fun of his accent

I see folks giving him a ton of siblings and I really like that idea but I just gave him one cause I thought it'd be easier lol

I named his sister Sharan cause I thought it'd be funny, she's also fucking crazy but when they're around eachother they're too busy trying to reel the other one in to be crazy themselves so they sort of balance eachother out

Shes about 6-7 years younger than than him and even though he KNOWS she can stand up for herself he's still very protective of her

When he first started boxing professionally he would bring her with him to get her out of the house (even though she didn't like seeing him get hurt)

Used to read her stories to help her go to sleep and would stay with her to protect her from monsters

Has fistfought his dad and would do so again if he wasn't dead

Soda Popinski

Literally just this post

Him and his wife that I made up have been trying for a baby but haven't had any luck so far

Gained his sweet tooth after quitting drinking (ya know cause he used to be called vodka drunkinski, god I'm so fucking clever)

Is actually a gentle giant outside of the ring!

His wife started knitting him sweaters once she saw him go out into the snow nearly naked. He loves and cherishes them and wears them every chance he gets but he still goes outside without pants🫠

Has killed someone on accident

Bald Bull

I like to think that he's a pretty chill guy when he's not being hounded by the paparazzi but god damn they will not leave him alone

He was probably glad when mac became champ for all the reasons macho man hated it

I honestly don't know what else to say about him

Fuck it I'm giving him agoraphobia

Him and popinski are pals😊

Has killed someone on purpose

Super Macho Man

I'm gonna be real, in my first draft of this post i completely forgot he existed and if he was real and he knew that he would be thinking about it for WEEKS

His ass: NOT real

His tits: NOT real

Thinks he's talking Like The Youth when he says shit like dude and bogus all the time

Also he's like 50

Definitely has at least one kid that he pretends not to know about, dodges child support like it's bullets in the matrix

Idk what social media was like in 2009 cause I was 4 years old but I like to think that people bully him online

Tried to own the "release the bogus" thing but it was just suuuuuuper cringe

Sometimes I like to make him ftm, I think it's neat

Sometimes I also like to make him fluent in asl but I got that one from a fanfic

Mr. Sandman

Comfypilled cozymaxer (at least when he's not training and stuff)

I feel like he would not be able to play any of the punch out games if they existed in his universe

I really dont know what to put here either

I like to think that under that intimidating exterior hes a real sweetie but I also said that about popinski and bb so it feels like I'm just being stupid

Give him some chamomile tea. Now.

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 32: Adrift

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ [Meant For Mature Audience]

Astarion’s tremulous body finally falls still as he slips into the semblance of his trance. His breathing begins to slow, though it remains uneven. Your fingers brush the edge of the bed absently while you linger there for minutes longer than necessary. The squall of voices is quieter, but they still persist, chanting an aria of fear and unrest amongst the residual confusion.

The faint creak of the door closing behind you feels deafening in the perturbing silence. You wish to be alone to allow your thoughts to settle, but the clink and clank of metal gears remind you that hope has no place in your existence anymore.

Karlach sits in a chair by an unlit hearth with her head bowed. She doesn’t turn to look at you, and you consider retreating, melting back into the dark like a coward. She will demand answers, which she deserves, but you’re unsure you have satisfactory ones to offer.

Her voice stampedes over the quiet before you can make your mind up. “You gonna stand there all night, or are you gonna face me like the Illyria I know?”

Your fingers curl into the hem of the oversized shirt she gave you to change into and nervously tug before you coerce your body to appear calm. You take the chair next to her and wait for the inevitable barrage.

The voices that haunt Astarion’s mind have found their way into yours, no longer distant echoes but fully present and suffocating. Every time you blink, the world blurs, but the cacophony never stops. They chant in a language that does not sound familiar, but somehow, you can comprehend some of the fragments of words.

It is beautiful, angelic even, a lullaby of corruption. Dissonant harmonies bleed into your mind like toxins that infect everything they touch. It insinuates itself into the corners of your thoughts until you cannot tell what’s yours and what isn’t.

You catch some of the whispers—let him fall, let them all fall, and then fall with them.

Whether foolish or noble, you push yourself into the kinship and draw the voices away from Astarion. The effort leaves you trembling, every part of you stretched thin, but you grit your teeth and hold the line. 

Astarion needs rest, and if the price of his rest is your unrest, so be it.

“Alright, soldier,” Karlach shatters what little focus you had left. “I think it’s high time you tell me what in the fuck is going on here.”

“Astarion is sick,” you begin, trying to find the right words. “The Rite had consequences we weren’t apprised of.”

Her brows furrow, and her tail lashes. “What kind of consequences?”

Your lips press into a firm line while you ponder exactly how much to tell her. “Mephistopheles,” you say, the name tasting like poison on your tongue. “He tainted the Rite, and when it was completed, his madness bled into Astarion.”

Karlach leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Mephistopheles was always a paranoid lunatic. Heard enough stories about him in the Hells to know he didn’t trust his shadow half the time. Why would he infect Astarion? What’s the point?”

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “Freedom.”

“He used the Rite to dump all the rot he couldn’t stand into Astarion.” Karlach murmurs, the realization dawning on her like a hammer striking steel.

You nod, your throat tight. “The Rite made Astarion the vessel for everything Mephistopheles wanted to leave behind. All the instability, the anger, everything that was too much for even him to hold.”

“Bloody Hells,” Karlach breathes with fury braided into her intonation.

“Astarion’s soul is fractured. One side of him is trying to hold on to who he was and who he is. The other side…” You trail off, your throat constricting.

“The other side is what Mephistopheles left behind,” Karlach finishes grimly.

You nod. “It’s spreading. If we can’t stop it—if Astarion can’t hold on—then…”

Karlach’s gaze hardens, her fiery eyes locking onto yours. “Then what?”

“Then the Astarion we know will be gone.” Karlach leans back in her chair, exhaling slowly. “So what happened today…” “Wasn’t Astarion’s fault,” you cut in, sharper than you intended. An unusual rage prickles over your skin, like millions of needle points. You grind your teeth together so hard you’re positive you’ll crack them in an effort not to shout at Karlach.

If she had just left well enough alone, if she and Wyll had listened to you, if she could have taken a fucking hint…

You shake your head to redirect the stream of rage. You remind yourself that she was just trying to help, but it does little to quell the roiling inferno.

She doesn’t understand. None of them do. They wouldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Karlach leans forward, brows furrowed with a mixture of worry and confusion. “Hey, I’m just trying to—”

“What? Help?” you snap, the word laced with venom before you can stop yourself.

You immediately regret it but cannot find it in yourself to apologize, not with how your blood feels like it’s boiling beneath your skin. Her expression softens despite your outburst, which only makes the fire in your chest burn hotter.

The voices press in, their whispers like a deafening roar in your mind. They think you’re weak. Pathetic. They do not trust you.

You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you try to quiet them, but the rage refuses to subside. Every attempt to reason with yourself falls apart as the voices twist and churn.

Karlach doesn’t back down. “Look, all I’m saying is—”

“I know what you’re saying,” you interrupt, standing so abruptly that your chair screeches against the floor.

Your voice rises before you can stop it, cracking under the weight of your frustration. “I do not need your concern or pity or whatever this is! What happened today is none of your business.”

“It’s not pity,” Karlach says firmly, standing now, too, her broad shoulders squaring as she looks you in the eye. She’s calm, even steady, which only makes your rage feel all the more erratic and untamed. “It’s care.”

Care. The word feels like ash in your mouth. You want to scream, lash out, and tell her that care doesn’t fix anything.

But instead, your chest tightens painfully, and your teeth grind together again as the voices take on a mocking edge. She is lying. She does not care. None of them do. They will turn on you the moment you show weakness.

You shake your head, trying to drown them out, but they only grow louder, more insistent. The heat beneath your skin threatens to boil over, and your voice comes out low and trembling with restrained fury. “Just… drop it, Karlach. Please. It’s been a long day.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and her voice is gentler when she does. “What are you going to do?”

“Astarion and I need to go to Cania,” you say, keeping your voice steady as if the words don’t carry the weight of an impossible task.

“Cania? The frozen layer of the Hells? Why in the bloody abyss would you go there?”

You hesitate, running your fingers through your hair as you search for a way to say this without giving too much away. “There’s… something there that might help Astarion,” you say finally.

Karlach’s fiery eyebrows rise. “You’re being awfully vague for something that sounds insane.”

You shrug, trying to appear casual. “It’s complicated.”

Karlach’s voice rises slightly, and she shakes her head. “Do you know what you’re walking into? Cania isn’t just snowstorms and ice—it’s crawling with devils who would sooner rip your head off than let you breathe there.”

“I know,” you reply softly. “There is no other way, and I don’t think he has much more time.”

You don’t think either of you do.

The door presses into your back, and you rake your nails over the skin of your arm as if you could claw this peculiar anger out. It’s not your anger, but it also is, intensified like someone is looking at it under a magnifying glass. The voices speak in truths and half-truths, making them hard to ignore, but when your eyes land on Astarion, the seething hisses subside.

You watch him with guarded tenderness, stopping a few steps away. The memory of earlier is still fresh—how his eyes had burned with panic, how he’d flinched away from you like you were the thing he needed to protect himself from.

The confusion, his fear, and the way he looked at you as though you were a stranger. The sting of it is sharp, and your jaw tightens. It wasn’t his fault, but it doesn’t make it easier to stomach.

You hover near the edge of the bed, and the urge to crawl into it with him flares briefly in your mind. Typically, you would do so without hesitation, but not now. He needs space more than he needs you crowding him, and maybe, though you hate to admit it, you need the distance, too.

For now.

Folding your legs under yourself, you curl up in the chair at his side. The room is still, save for the faint sound of Astarion’s breathing and steady heartbeat. You focus on it, letting its rhythm lull you into a degree of calm.

Your eyes flutter shut, but rest does not come easily. The silence of the room only amplifies the thoughts and voices. You shift slightly in the chair, curling up as tight as possible as if it might hold your crumbling pieces together.

Astarion does not stir even as the chair creaks. He looks peaceful, his face free of the torment that inhabits him, and you cling to that like a lifeline. You tell yourself it’s enough, that he is here, resting, and that he’ll wake and things will be better, but it’s a transparent lie.

You close your eyes and let your mind drift. It isn’t sleep, but it’s a half-trance, where your thoughts blur and bend, bleeding into each other until they’re shapeless. You focus on the sound of his breathing again, on the faint pull of the bond, and let yourself be carried by it.

You aren��t sure how long you stay in that liminal state between rest and wakefulness, but your eyes flutter open when you hear the soft sound of hesitant footsteps. When things come into focus, Astarion stands near the bedroom window, his shirt discarded on the floor, trousers hanging loosely at his hips.

Beads of sweat glide down his body, tracing the contours of his muscles like droplets of liquid glass catching the light filtering through the curtains. Your mind shifts into the link, and you realize the disorientation has not abated.

His thoughts start and stop, his memories incoherent and unsettlingly incongruent, like the timeline of his life had been torn apart, and he’s trying to reassemble it, but he can’t find where the pieces fit together.

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you need to say something. His presence is off in a way you can’t fully describe, so you say his name softly, careful not to startle him.

“Astarion?”

He whirls with wide eyes, locking onto yours with an edge of surprise and panic, as if he’s just now realized that he isn’t alone. He stands there, frozen, as though he’s trying to place you in his reality, but you’re not something he’s quite sure belongs.

You swallow thickly and try again. “Astarion?”

His lips part, but words don’t seem to come easily. His eyes dart between you, the window, and the surrounding space with such chaotic jerks that you have a hard time tracking what he’s looking at from one moment to the next.

“I… I did not mean to wake you,” he mutters, hoarse and apologetic, like he’s trying to smooth over a misunderstanding that isn’t there.

Pushing yourself upright, you do your best to keep your movements predictable and controlled, but the way he watches you sets your nerves on edge.

“Illyria,” he says, eyes surveying you but still distant.

Your name sounds like a question more than a statement, and it strikes you like ice forming over the nerves of your spine. Does he not remember me? The thought flashes through your mind, and with it, dread.

“Yes,” you nod, keeping your voice steady despite the wrenching fear settling in your gut.

“My…” he trails off, splaying his fingers in front of him and looking at the ring like he needs confirmation before he concludes the rest of his sentence. “Wife, yes?”

You try to keep your panic hidden, burying it deep where he cannot see, but it churns. Astarion should know you. But the man standing before you seems lost, piecing fragments of memories together as though he’s trying to form a picture of his life, but the edges won’t align.

How much of him is still here? How much of the Astarion you loved has survived, buried beneath the weight of his own mind?

“Yes, I’m your wife,” you confirm while rising from the chair.

His body seems to relax slightly at your confirmation, though there’s still a fog in his eyes, a distant confusion that makes him seem far away.

You clear your throat, trying to steady yourself. “What do you remember?”

Astarion stares at you for a long moment, his gaze searching, like he’s trying to find something within the recesses of his mind. Finally, he speaks, though his words are slow. “I remember you, but... you look different. Thin. Sickly.”

His eyes are wide with concern, though there’s a hesitation there, like he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to care. The words sickly hang in the air between you two, like an accusation you can’t escape.

You can’t quite make heads or tails of this. Yesterday, his confusion had been evident—his panic a raw, trembling thing that had threatened to consume him. But at least then, it felt like he still knew you, still saw you in some way. Today, his panic has been mitigated, but what lingers is something different—an unsettling calmness.

Does he even see me? Does he even remember us?

You take a step forward, hesitating before you speak again. “You remember me, don’t you?”

His shoulders stiffen, just slightly, and then he turns to look at you. “I remember... fragments,” he says, his voice low as if testing the words before letting them escape. “But it’s all... hazy. I remember... us, somehow, but the details slip through my fingers whenever I try to grasp them.”

The pain in his voice is subtle, but it cuts through you anyway. There’s no anger, no bitterness. Just... loss. A loss you cannot fully understand, and yet it echoes in your chest.

“I do not know what’s real,” he adds quietly, his eyes locking with yours for just a moment before he turns away again. “But you’re real. That’s something.”

You don’t know what to say. Part of you wants to reach out and touch him, but another part of you is frozen, unsure of where to begin when nothing feels the same.

Astarion’s gaze is fixed on the window, his eyes scanning the view outside with a distant, disinterested look. “Definitely not in Baldur’s Gate, are we?”

“No, we’re in the Hells. Abriymoch, to be precise.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, but you hear him slick his damp hair back with a quick swipe of his hand. The motion is instinctive like it’s something he’s done a thousand times, though there’s something so vulnerable about the way he does it now as if he’s still trying to find some semblance of control in a place that offers none.

“I suppose that explains the heat,” he comments dryly, his voice dripping with frustration.

“Control your body temperature.”

Astarion freezes, his hand stilling midair as he looks at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Can I do that?” he asks, the question genuine but laced with an edge of disbelief.

His tone cracks slightly, revealing just how much he doesn’t know, how much he’s lost. Your heart sinks a little more, your chest tightening at the realization.

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “You can.”

But the silence that follows only serves to remind you how far he’s fallen from that version of himself. Astarion looks at you like he’s waiting for a deeper explanation, his mind still trying to piece together what’s real and possible.

“Why am I here? Why are we here?” He asks with an edge of helplessness.

You want to ease that confusion, but instead, you find yourself paralyzed by it. This isn’t the Astarion you know—the one who had answers to everything, the one who was always so certain.

This Astarion is... adrift.

He steps closer to you, his eyes searching your face as if looking for some answer he can’t quite find.

"Why can't I remember?" he asks hesitantly as though he’s afraid of the answer. "What happened to me? The memories are all... broken. I should know this. I should know you, but it's like... like I’m seeing you for the first time. Or am I? Is it real? Hells, am I real?”

His words trail off, and you can see how much it’s tearing at him, the uncertainty, the ache in his chest that mirrors the one in yours. He knows something is wrong, but he can’t quite figure out what it is, who he is—who you are.

You need to gauge the extent of his memory loss—his safety, and your own, depend on it.

“Astarion,” you venture, gentle but probing, “you do remember that you’re a vampire, right?”

He freezes momentarily, his brow furrowing before his lips curl into a smirk. “Am I?” he gasps, pressing a hand to his chest with mock horror. “A vampire, you say? How utterly shocking! What gave me away—the fangs, the complexion, or my irresistible charm?”

The exaggerated theatrics coax a quiet laugh from you, a sound that feels foreign amidst the tension. It’s a slight relief—a glimpse of your husband peeking through the cracks of his confusion. For a moment, the man you love is right there, clever and insufferable in equal measure.

But the smile fades as quickly as it came, and his expression sobers. “Yes,” he mumbles, looking down at his hands as though seeing them for the first time. “I know what I am. That much is... hard to forget. Some things never change, it seems.”

You nod slowly, watching him carefully. “Do you remember how it happened? How you... got here?”

He hesitates, his brow creasing as he struggles to reach into the tangled mess of his mind. “I remember Cazador. The chains. The slavery. The... cruelty.” He shudders, his hand absently brushing over the faint scars on his neck that remain etched into his skin. “I remember killing him.”

He pauses, glancing at you. “You were there. Weren’t you?” His gaze searches yours, uncertain but hopeful. “I think you were. You helped me... I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You nod again, though your chest tightens. “I was there. We killed him together.”

His lips part slightly, relief wavering across his features. “Good. Good. That feels... right. You were with me. You’ve always been with me.” His expression clouds, and he rubs his temples, frustration creeping into his tone. “After that, though... it’s all so hazy. I remember the Rite, the ascension, but it’s like I’m trying to grasp shadows. I remember power—so much power—and then...” His hand falls to his side, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. Everything after is... fragments.”

Your heart sinks further. The gaps in his memory are significant, yet he’s pieced together enough to know that something is very, very wrong.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, gripping his hair. “Why is everything so tangled? Why can’t I remember?”

You reach out instinctively but stop yourself short, unsure if touching him would ground him or overwhelm him further. “It’s alright. Whatever’s happened, whatever’s missing—we’ll piece it back together.”

He glances at you, his crimson eyes softening as they meet yours. “You sound so sure,” he murmurs, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose I’ll have to trust you, won’t I? You seem to know me better than I know myself.”

“You can trust me,” you conclude with conviction, though the weight of his words makes your throat tighten.

He tilts his head, studying you for a moment before letting out a quiet laugh. “Well, it’s not as though I have many other options, do I? If you’re lying to me, darling, you’re doing a very convincing job of it.”

He shakes his head, his amusement fading as he glances back at the window. “Still, it’s troubling. If I can remember killing Cazador, if I can remember the ascension... why does everything else feel so... scattered? What happened to me, Illyria?”

He says your name so tentatively that, for some reason, it makes your static heart clench. You can’t bear to tell him. Could he handle the truth in his state? What do you say to someone who is clinging to scraps?

“We will figure it out,” you repeat.

Scarlet eyes swish from side to side as if he’s reading an invisible book before him. The kinship in your head flares as he plucks its chords.

His brows furrow, and he tilts his head when he looks at you. “I can feel you in my head. It feels so… intimate. I do not understand it. Why are you in there?”

The question makes your knees shake with the urge to sink to the floor and weep, but you force the feeling aside. “We share a… mental connection that was formed when you turned me. It lets us feel each other's thoughts and emotions, among other things.”

He nods slowly as if the explanation makes sense but doesn’t quite settle. “What if I do not want this… connection, as you say?” He asks with a slight cant to his head; eyes cast upwards as if he’s mulling it over. “Could it be severed? Can I sever it? If I did, would you… go away?”

You falter, physically taking a step back like the words themselves pushed you. The last thing you want is for him to break that connection, to lose the fragile thread that continues to be together, no matter how precarious.

“If it’s too much, I can close it,” you offer, swallowing hard. “I can shut it off for a while.”

The raw panic in his reaction is immediate. He jerks forward without thinking in a burst of desperation, his hands outstretched. A sharp trill of adrenaline circulates through you, and your body locks into a defensive stance. It’s not precisely fear you feel but a shadow of mistrust rooted into your mind as a reminder that his affection usually turns to cruelty.

Astarion stops short, freezing in place. His fingers tremble in the air as he second-guesses himself. His face falls when he notices your reaction, hands still hovering helplessly.

“Apologies,” he stammers. “I did not want to frighten you. That was not my intention.”

With a deep breath, you force your muscles to relax. “I know,” you sigh but do not venture to provide any further explanation.

You reach your hand out to him, palm up, in the same way he did to you all that time ago. He glances at it curiously but seems to recognize the gesture as his hand finds yours with the same uncertain smile you remember from that night. He takes a step closer, then another, until he’s so close you can feel his breath ghosting over your face.

His voice is a whisper when he finally asks, “May I?”

There’s no need for an explanation of his intentions, and you nod. The moment his arms wrap around you, the chasm that's grown between you seems to crack open and close all at once. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this—needed this. His embrace is firm but carefully hesitant, as though he’s still testing the waters, but there is genuine affection in the way he holds you.

Burying your face in his shoulder, you melt into him and swallow the balled sob that builds in your throat. The tension you’ve been carrying for what feels like an eternity begins to ease, bit by bit.

“Please,” he murmurs against your hair, voice thickly suffused with emotion. “Do not close the bond. I… I could not bear it. It is the only thing keeping me grounded.” He pulls you closer, his fingers flexing into you firmly but not painfully, as if he’s afraid you might slip away like the rest of his memories do when he tries to clutch them. “I believe it might be the only thing keeping me present.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “I’m here, and I’ve always been here.”

Astarion exhales in a shaky burst of relief and rests his chin against your head. “Thank you.”

You don’t respond, afraid your voice might crack if you try. Instead, you hold him as he holds you, letting your bond hum with reassurance and love. For now, it’s enough to simply be in his arms, to feel that even in the haze of broken memories, some part of him still knows how to love you.

Astarion steps out of the room and into the main area with Illyria close by his side. The moment they cross the threshold, he can feel eyes on him before he sees them. His eyes flick upward, catching Karlach’s fiery glare and Wyll’s stern, furrowed expression. Karlach angles her body so that it’s between him and the chair Wyll is sitting on, like a sentry on duty. They fall silent, their conversation clearly interrupted by his presence.

He remembers them. Karlach, with her broad shoulders and the faint orange glow that radiates over her skin, who used to laugh too loudly and slap him on the back with far too much enthusiasm. Wyll, poised as always, a man of principle and loyalty.

They do not look at him with familiarity now. There is no laughter in Karlach’s eyes nor quiet camaraderie in Wyll’s posture. Their gazes drip with hatred so intense it’s a tangible scent in the air. He does not understand why, and it twists in his chest sourly.

What could he have done to earn such loathing? He cannot recall, and that absence of knowledge gnaws at him. He shifts on his feet awkwardly, one hand brushing against the seam of his trousers in a nervous fidget.

He forces a small, tentative smile and clears his throat. “It is such a pleasure to see you both again. Though, judging by the looks on your faces, I might as well have crawled out of the Nine Hells itself. Truly, what a warm welcome.”

Karlach’s expression hardens while her tail flicks behind her in barely restrained agitation. Wyll folds his arms across his chest with a scoff, his jaw tightening. The tension in the room grows thicker, and Astarion’s smile falters.

“Well,” he tries again, his voice wavering slightly. “Perhaps not a warm welcome, then. Tepid, at best? Lukewarm? Oh, do not all speak at once—I might be overwhelmed by the sheer enthusiasm.”

Karlach’s voice finally breaks through, low and simmering with anger. “You’ve got some nerve.”

Astarion blinks, taken aback by the venom in her tone. “I beg your pardon?” he replies, his attempt at charm faltering under her glare.

Wyll shakes his head, eyes darting to Illyria. “He doesn’t remember?”

Astarion frowns, his gaze darting between them. “Remember what, exactly? Is there some grand offence I have committed that has left you both so utterly... displeased with me?”

Karlach steps forward, her movements deliberate and controlled. “Offence?” she echoes, her voice dripping with incredulity. “You don’t even know—”

“Stop,” Illyria cuts in, her tone firm as she steps in front of him like a shield. “This isn’t helping.”

The incessant song in his head grows a little louder, warring with his ability to think and comprehend the situation at hand. The link with Illyria also hums, though at least he finds it oddly comforting, even when it’s trembling under her annoyance. Is it annoyance with him? Annoyance with them? He cannot tell.

He looks down at her with mounting confusion. “Illyria, what—?”

“Later,” she says sharply, her eyes flicking back to Karlach and Wyll. “Now isn’t the time for this.”

The tension remains, but Karlach steps back, her fists clenched at her sides. Wyll lets out a slow breath, though his gaze doesn’t soften. Astarion swallows hard, his smile now fully gone.

Whatever this is—whatever he has done—it is worse than he imagined.

Astarion watches Illyria as she swings a bag over her shoulder and approaches Karlach with an air of casual familiarity.

“Could you lend me some coin?” Illyria asks as though this is a perfectly normal request to make of someone glaring daggers at them moments earlier.

Astarion’s brows pinch. Borrow coin? From Karlach? He is almost certain they do not need to borrow coin from anyone. He is wealthy, is he not? Gold enough to burn, treasures beyond counting, that sort of thing. Why would they need to stoop to such a thing?

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it just as quickly. No, better not. The thought of asking why is too humiliating. He bites his tongue and decides to let it pass, pretending the whole exchange isn’t happening.

Karlach hesitates for a moment as though reluctant to fulfill Illyria’s request. Finally, she sighs and tosses a coin pouch to Illyria. “Fine.”

Wyll’s muffled groan pulls his attention away from that horror show. Wyll shifts weakly in his chair, rubbing his forehead with his eyes closed. Karlach gives him a concerned look and gently rubs his back.

“You alright?” She murmurs, retrieving a glass of water from a small table and offering it to him.

“Fine,” Wyll reassures with a small smile as he takes the glass, his fingers brushing Karlach’s in what appears to Astarion to be too intimate a touch for them. “This damnable headache won’t let up. Illyria, how did you stand it?”

A sharp spike of shame transits into his mind from Illyria, and her fluid movement becomes stiff. She glances at Wyll, though it appears forced. “It will pass,” she remarks.

Astarion’s eyes drift from the exchange to Wyll’s neck, catching the sight of two red puncture marks. A jolt of ice radiates through Astarion’s skipping heart, and he swallows hard, unable to look away from the evidence of a bite.

Did I do that?

His stomach churns as the thought takes root. Is this why they are so furious with him? Did he lose control, forget himself, and feed on Wyll? No. Surely not. He learned to manage his hunger centuries ago when he was a young spawn. Cazador saw to that—years of rotting in the kennels until he learned the discipline required to be around the living.

He wouldn’t have done something so reckless, would he? There is a sudden urge to defend himself, explain, even though no one has accused him of anything, but he bites it back. Even if he wanted to explain, he doesn’t know what he would say because he cannot remember doing it or why.

Illyria speaks again before he can settle on what exactly to do about this, tucking the borrowed coin away. “We’ll return later, and thank you. I’ll pay you back.”

“The absolute least of my worries right now is coin,” Karlach grunts in response while she stares at him with contempt, perhaps disappointment, maybe both.

The strident symphony that is always strumming in the background of his thoughts spikes again, but something siphons it away as quickly as it rises. Illyria winces almost imperceptibly, but he notices how her withered muscles flex.

She beckons him with a nod, and the tension eases as he follows her out of that suffocating room. They descend a set of stairs and into an inn crowded with infernal beings, a kaleidoscope of grotesque and elegant forms. Demons lounge at polished tables, devils haggle over contracts, and imps dart about carrying trays of drinks.

Illyria weaves through the crowd, appearing unbothered as if this infernal realm is merely another market in Baldur’s Gate. She approaches the bar, where the innkeeper—a hulking, grotesque thing with leathery skin—leans lazily against the counter.

“Excuse me,” Illyria begins, her voice steady and polite.

The creature does not so much as glance at her, earning only a scoff and a dismissive wave of his clawed hand.

She repeats herself louder, and the innkeeper finally deigns to speak. His guttural tongue grinds against Astarion’s ears like stones dragged across metal. Whatever he says is sharp and sneering, followed by a cruel laugh that ripples through the beings nearby.

Astarion’s lips press into a thin line. The audacity of this wretch to scoff at her so brazenly ignites a sudden strike of anger.

He steps forward before he even realizes he has done so. “That,” he begins coldly, “is no way to speak to a lady.”

The innkeeper snorts, his glowing yellow eyes narrowing as he towers over Astarion. “And who are you, pale thing?” he growls, his Common thick with his infernal accent. “Another mortal begging for scraps?”

Astarion’s smile is slow and dangerous as he tilts his head and lets his fangs flash in the dim light. “Hardly,” he replies, his tone light, almost playful. “But I do wonder if you speak to all your patrons with such disregard or if you have saved this particular brand of rudeness just for us.”

The creature straightens, head tilting slightly as though reconsidering. Illyria places a hand on his arm, a subtle pressure meant to calm him, but he does not budge. His red eyes remain fixed on the innkeeper, glinting with cold fury.

“Now,” Astarion continues, his voice soft but laced with warning. “My wife asked you a question. Perhaps you would like to try answering it this time.”

The innkeeper bristles, but something in Astarion’s gaze—or perhaps the underlying threat in his tone—makes him falter. He mutters something under his breath before finally responding, this time with strained civility.

Astarion’s smirk widens. “That is much better,” he says smoothly, stepping back to let Illyria resume her questioning. He glances down at her, his annoyance tempered by satisfaction. “Do let me know if he steps out of line again, my dear,” he murmurs, just loud enough for the innkeeper to hear. “I would be happy to deal with him properly.”

Whatever questions Illyria asks are lost on him as he glances around the bar, trying to elucidate hints of just how in the Hells he got here. He remembers being in Baldur’s Gate and remembers bits and pieces of their wedding, but everything else disintegrates before he can glimpse it. Even the timeline of events is a tangled web that sticks to his fingers like spider silk whenever he tries to unknot it.

Illyria taps his hand, and he follows her out into the oppressive atmosphere. The air is an acrid blend of sulphur and scorched stone, loud with raspy caterwauling, and far, far too hot. She glances up at him with an expression he cannot quite decipher.

She is quiet when she speaks, her intonation measured and smooth, calculating her words before they even leave her lips. “Did the voices in your head make you do that?”

He halts midstep and turns to look at her fully. What an odd question. The prattle in his mind—the endless, maddening whispers he has tried and failed to block out since waking—stands in the forefront of his awareness. They are an ever-present, disjointed hum that creeps along the edges of his sanity, but they had no bearing on what happened.

“I—no,” he confirms, shaking his head. “The voices did not make me do anything. I simply... did not like the way he was speaking to you.”

His gaze flicks to her, waiting for some kind of reaction, but she only nods with a wash of relief that confounds him further.

“That was kind of you,” she says gently, too gently. It’s equal parts warm and unsettling. “But you must watch your temper carefully.”

The words are spoken delicately, as though she is treading on fragile ground. Her tone makes him feel fragile, too, and he despises it. She knows something, and she is keeping the information clutched close and guarded.

His jaw tightens, the warmth evaporating as unease takes its place. “Is that what happened to Wyll?” he blurts out. He searches her face for answers, for some clue that might fill the gaps in his fractured memory. “Did I lose my temper and... bite him?”

The thought makes him recoil, and he grips his arms tightly as if to hold himself together. That does not seem like him, not the him he knows—or thinks he knows.

“That does not sound like me,” he presses, the words firmer this time. “I would not have—” He stops, unsure if he should finish the thought.

Illyria reaches up and tenderly swipes aside pieces of hair that stick to his sweat-veiled forehead. Her fingers are cool, and they linger idly, brushing back and forth as if she might be able to smooth away the swirling chaos. It stirs an ache he cannot place, though he finds the gesture impossibly soothing.

The coolness of her palm cups his cheek, drawing his scattered thoughts into sharp focus. He blinks, eyes locking onto the cracked crimson of hers. Exhaustion is etched across her face; dark bags extend under her eyes with gaunt, hollow cheeks.

How in the Hells did she get like this? How could he let her get like this? Did he? Why?

She shakes her head slowly, firmly. “No,” she sighs as her hand drops back to her side. “You did not bite Wyll.”

The reassurance brings a brief, fleeting sense of relief, but it wanes as quickly as it came. Illyria turns and strides towards wherever their destination is.

“If not me, then who bit Wyll?”

She stops but keeps her back toward him, and her shoulders stiffen slightly. Illyria does not turn to face him, refusing to meet his eyes. Her head dips, the strands of her hair falling forward as though she could use them as a curtain to hide behind.

“I did,” she whispers, almost too quiet for even his sharp hearing to catch.

Astarion’s mind reels with a thousand questions clashing for dominance, but none are coherent. She stands with her head bowed in shame, and he opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out at first.

“Why?” He finally manages to force his voice into compliance, but his confusion leaks into the word.

Her hands curl into fists at her sides. “Because he let me.”

The answer doesn’t help. It only raises more questions, doubts, and pieces of a puzzle that do not seem to fit together.

“No, no,” he mumbles, mostly to himself. “That does not seem right. You feed on me, yes? I cannot recall everything, but I recall that much.”

Her shoulders tense, and her head snaps up to meet his gaze, her eyes glittering with a storm of emotions he cannot parse. Anger? Shame? Defiance? Perhaps all of them at once. The idea of someone else’s blood on her lips—someone else’s pulse beneath her fangs—ignites a strange and unfamiliar sting.

Jealousy? Hurt? He does not want to examine it too closely.

Her shoulders rise and fall in a shallow breath, and her expression is inscrutable. “You were gone,” she says simply, as though that explains everything and nothing at once.

Gone.

The word settles like a stone, and for the first time, he feels the enormity of it—the gaps in his memory, the pieces of his life that seem to have slipped through his fingers.

He was gone, but where? For how long?

And what did he do?

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things.

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes: - Poor Pookie 😔

[ask-funnybunnydoll]

Hi!

I think I have to move on.

You may have noticed that all of a sudden my posts have become less and less frequent. That's not on purpose I simply don't have the motivation to keep this ask blog going. I made this blog at the peak of my TADC hyperfixation because I knew it would give me the boost to work. At the start I made like, what? 2 a day, wowzas! Then it became like every other day posts. It's not that I don't enjoy the blog, the ship, the asks. Hell, the asks were the best part of this, I love just seeing what you guys come up with for these three and I get to do the even more fun part of drawing the answer.

But I still have no motivation to keep this going. And I have fixated on something else if you follow my main.

So, thank you for being here and still liking my posts even if I hadn't posted often. This was the most fun I've had and being my first ask blog I ever created just makes it more important to me.

I probably won't ever revive this blog but I'll keep it open for you. And if you want to see what the story I originally planned out was gonna be then check below the cut! Or if you wanna stay curious and theorize then just scroll by. Thank you again, hope ya have a great day and year. I hope my shit was at least okay to you.

I'm not gonna lie. Most of the stuff was just created along the way of drawing. I was like, huh this would be cool let's add that in. And ofc I didn't get to any juicy lore in this but it would've been rushed because I didn't plan beforehand... which you probably could tell xd

For Pomni, here's the plot twist: she's dead and her conscience was updated into the game to keep her somewhat alive. She worked in the place that created the game, she even took part in putting people in there. The entire game was just an expirement to test if immortality was possible, but of course.. everyone goes insane in there so they have to keep on and keep on trying with more and more people to get anywhere. They wait until someone goes to edge of absolute insanity and that's when they take them out of the game, their bodies are still kept alive and they go back to normal. They forget everything that happened while in the game. For Pomni she died just after her conscience was converted to the game, for others they were forced to go while alive. Who killed Pomni? Well, her boss, the head of the experimentation. Why? Idk 😭

For Jax, I gave him a dark story. He was isolated in his home and kept away from the outside world, which is why he lacks empathy, because he simply doesn't know how to feel that way when he never really had knowledge of emotions outside or even inside his home. His father was emotionally and physically ab4sive so.. that didn't help. He latched onto his mother the most but they never saw eachother often. That's all I had for him in mind.

For Ragatha, she lived in the country on her own land with her husband. Yup! She had a husband and a daughter too. Husband was a total jerk and she couldn't leave because she didn't want their kid to experience separated parents. She's a doll in the game because it resembles the doll she made for her daughter.

I also had some plot that I made up in my mind. Like.... Pomni at the end would be the last one alone in the digital circus. That being since she's dead she would just be yknow. Dead if she left the game. Jax and Ragatha leave but only because Pomni forces them. Again don't know how, I probably would have made it up while I went along with the story. So, Pomni is just there alone, with Caine. And she lives like that for eternity. She doesn't go insane anymore and it isn't as lonely as it used to feel like. It would feel like home kind of. But she would be there, longing for her partners forever unless she decides one day to just. Yknow, die..

Also since Jax and Ragatha would forget everything after they leave the game, they just don't remember they were in a relationship and would live their lives like before. Sad and lonely.

Goodness, I forget I make the most sad stories ever sometimes 😭

[emotionally-damaged-carrot]

Absolutely you should add smut were all whores here

"Hooked"

Sorry been really busy and I am still very busy and ai hate it so much cause I don't have the energy to write anymore after a shit ton of work and sleepless nights just to meet the deadline. Anyways, I will try to do the requests, enjoy ✌️

Hope you lot understand, sorry. 😔

Warning: smut (you already know)

Idk what is in here cause I didn't proof read, hope the wait was worth it tho? Don't come at me, I just wanted to get a fic out cause I've been dry the last few weeks. Enjoy ✌️

I always noticed Arthur's brother, Charles, would always stare at me when he gets the chance, especially when visiting tutur at the f2 paddock. He wasn't really like this back then, but then again, I had a massive glow up, my ass is big, hair fluffy, face of an angel, and body sculpted by the Gods to be perfect for any man. During our earlier days, Charles never reqlly paid me any attention, apart from the occasional hi and hello, nothing. He would just walk past without even a glance. But now, it seemed that every chance he got, he would stare at me and sometimes bite his bottom lip and give me those "I'm gonna fuck you 'til you beg me to stop" eyes.

Like right now, I feel a pair of eyes burning through the back of my head as I walked with Arthur to the ferrari hospitality. Without looking back I already knew who it is, and being the brat I am, I decided to be a little shit and put on a show. Accidentally dropping my wallet as I pulled it out of the pocket of my jeans that hugs my ass way too tight. Making sure I bend over more than required to get the wallet, and continue walking as if nothing happened.

—

After Arthur won his first race of the season, I couldn't contain my excitement, I jumped on him my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms around his neck and giving him little kisses on his cheeks.

"Oh my god, I'm so proud of you tutur."

I basically shouted at him so he could hear me over the noise of his team celebrating.

"Merci, couldn't done it without you flaunting your ass at my brother the whole day."

He said with a laugh as he urged me to get off him. He looked behind me and smacked my ass and laughing harder as I let out a small squeak.

"Looks like someone wants to celebrate with you."

He said close to my ear as he turned me around only to be met by Charles gaze that had a glint of something. I looked up at him with innocent eyes.

"Hi."

I said as I turned back around.

"I will spoon feed you your own shit."

I said to Arthur, trying to sound menacing but he just laughed.

"Arturooo!"

Charles said as he hugged Arthur.

"Can I borrow y/n for a moment?"

"Hehe just return him before the party."

"Of course."

"Huh? D-don't I get a say in this??"

I asked confused as Arthur just laughed as Charles dragged me somewhere.

"W-where are we going? And what exactly d-do you need me for?"

I asked nervously as his gripped tightened.

"I had a shitty race unlike Arthur, and I need you to help me with it."

He said nonchalantly as we arrived at his motor home, he pushed me in before getting in himself, he locked the door.

"A-and h-how wou-"

I couldn't finish my sentence as he pulled me to him and attached his lips to mine, kissing desperately as if it was his last day on earth. He pushed me against the door his hands tapped my thighs, urging me to jump. I obeyed and jumped, his strong arms holding me up as my legs wrapped around his waist and my hands that were feelings his biceps now pulling at his hair and clawing on his back, drawing groans from him. Biting and licking my bottom lip his gripped tightened on my thighs causing me to moan against his lips. His tounge entering my mouth with no warning, our tounges now dancing a ballad of groans and moans. Our kiss getting more desperate and sloppy by the second due to the lack of oxygen catching up to us. We pulled from each other, foreheads resting against the other and thin string of saliva attaching our lips.

"Let's go to my hotel room, it's better."

He said between heavy breathed as he put me down, but I leaned on him heavily almost falling as my legs seemingly turn to jelly.

"I didn't know you liked me?"

I asked surprised.

"You're the only outlet available."

He said with a laugh.

"But you might just be the best one yet."

—

As we arrived in his hotel room, he locked the door and put the do not disturb sign on the outside knob.

"What n-"

He attacked my lips again before I could finish my sentence.

"Now, you're going to be a good boy and listen and do everything I tell you."

He said as he pulled back, his hands on my cheeks.

"O-okay."

"Good, now get on the bed and undress for me."

I obeyed, getting on the bed and undressing 'til I'm naked.

"You were always my favourite, y/n."

"Huh?"

"Among all of Arthur's friends, you were always my favourite, did you know that?"

He asked as he got on top of me now only in his boxers. He body looked heavenly, his abs, his biceps, everything made me want to go feral. To lick his muscles after a gym session or after racing, to taste the saltiness of his sweat against tounge. To see him breathing heavily as he looks at me with tired eyes, to hear him say my name in a breathy whisper.

My thoughts got cut off by his mouth on my neck, kissing, biting and licking, leaving marks.

"I always thought you'd taste good. Addicting."

He mumbled against my neck, as his actions became rougher I began to squirm, trying to push him off, the pleasure becoming overwhelming.

"Ngh~ mhmmm~ no, s-stop. Please."

"I would stop, amour, but your moans decieve you. Do you really want me to stop?"

He asked as he began to pull away but not before biting hard.

"Mmm~ ngha n-no."

I said as my squirming slowed down, missing his mouth on my neck, missing his bites I pulled at his neck.

"You can try all you want, you won't win, y/n."

He said is a breathy voice as he continued to resist my pull.

"I'm going to fuck you raw, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

He whisper against my ear as he bit it.

"Y-yes."

"Good boy."

He began to remove his boxers, I looked down excited to see what I would need to fit in. My eyes widened and I let out an involuntary moan as I saw his size. Very thick, with prominent veins and atleast 9 inches.

"Y-you're gonna kill me."

I said, now afraid of what would happen once the behemoth is burried in me.

"You can take it, and you will."

He said with a laugh as he spread my legs even more and grabbing the lube from the bedside drawer. He covered his fingers with the lube and putting one in me slowly, drawing moans from me. A second one went in and he started scissoring, the burning sensation slowly disappearing as he put in a third.

"Please, n-need you."

I said sounding desperate with my eyes closed and biting my lip.

"Are you sure?"

He asked sounding worried.

"Y-yes, f-fuck me, please."

I said as I began to squirm.

"Fine."

He covered his cock in obscene amounts of lube, hopefully enough. He got on top of me as he lined his cock with my hole, the head slowly going him, the burning, stretching sensation coming back worse. My hands fly to his back, pulling him to lay on me and clawing at him. He groaned as he felt the pain on his back and he slowly went deeper, we were both our of breathe now and he wasn't even half in.

"F-fuck, my self controll is not that strong, I'm seconds away from just fuck, just slamming into you."

He said against my ear, hot breathes fanning over.

"I-i-i don't m-mmmind."

I said with a chuckled as my legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him in further.

"You m-make me lose myself. Fuck"

He slammed into me without any more warning, I scream at the top of my lungs. He groaned as my clawing got more erratic, I felt something sticky on my fingers as I continued clawing. His groans became more frequent as he pulled back slowly and ramming back in.

"F-fuck, ngha."

He groaned as he bit my neck hard, leaving bite marks.

"P-please, f-fuck."

I couldn't finish a sentence nor a single thought as my mind short malfunctioned. Tears flowed freely from my eyes and he stayed still for a bit, catching his breath.

"You okay?"

He whispered in my ear.

"Mmmngh"

"I'll say, you're fine then."

He said with a laugh as he started to pull out, and go back in slowly. Slowly gaining more force and speed until he was just ramming into me, the bed squeaking after every thrust. He head burried in my neck, biting and leaving my, his hands exploring the sides of my body. My hands still clawing at his back, earning a groawn each time. My legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

"I don't w-we can make it f-for Arthur's p-party."

He said with a breathy chuckle as his assault on my ass did not ease a bit.

"Mmngg mmm ngh"

I could not form coherent words or anything, my mind completely blank apart from him, the feeling of him, the taste of him every about him. My body is tired, but he doesn't seem the least bit tired.

"F-fuck, I'm gonna cum."

He groans as his pace became more erratic, sweat dropping from his hair onto the sheets as he bit my neck, earning a moan from me. Our bodies sliding past the other. His hair sticking to his forehead, his back now slippery, my hands slide down, struggling to hold on. He let out small hisses of pain, due to the sweat coming in contact with the marks on his back.

"F-fuuuck"

He came deep inside me, burrying his face on my neck and biting roughly, with the last amount of energy I had left, my body began squirming trying to push him away, but he was much stronger he held my hands down and grinded his him against my, drawing out the pleasure. I felt his cum dripping out of my hole while he's still inside. By this time I already came more than 4 times, the feel of his cock pulsing inside me brought me unfathomable amounts of pleasure, knowing I'm the one he's with the one he's fucking.

"We need to do this again."

"Mmm"

"You do know, when I said again, I mean right now, right?"

He said with a laugh as his cock stayed hard inside me, after a few seconds he began to move again. Starting slow, my mind numb and body tired I couldn't do anything but let him, as he continued biting and licking my neck, my hand going up to his hair and stroking it.

"Y-you can say no if you don't want to anymore."

I don't what came over me, but my energy suddenyl came back after his words.

"You won't last as long as me, Leclerc."

I pushed him off me and made him lay on the bed as I began to ride him.

"You can try, but you won't succeed."

I said as I leaned down and made my marks on him.

"We both know, you just want to fuck me, but I'll have you hooked."

Idk what I wrote, cause half of this shit didnt get save so I had to rewrite, hope you enjoyed it ✌️

[ask-unpleasant]

hey chat sorry for the month of inactivity. i was unmotivated to do anything with this blog

but then i looked at some of the art on here and realized that i just lost my love for the character designs. so you know how we're gonna fix that? we're redesigning some characters bayybeeee 😈

starting with the man the myth the legend, here is UNPLEZZIE 2.0

he's probably the only one i had genuine problems with other than not being very aesthetically pleasing. he seemed too boring, his proportions were always a bit wonky, and the way he became more and more simple the more i drew him dumbed him down to just...awkward.

for this redesign, i kept all the features that made him my unpleasant. the only really signature thing i changed was his hair, sorry not sorry he had to fire his barber. i changed his scars to be far less opaque as to not clutter him up (which was the main reason i left them out most of the time), the only drawback is that i'm no longer just scribbling them in with a brush, they're actual geometry, so i cut back on the arms just for my own sake. also his tail now looks (and acts) like an actual docked tail.

next is the QSWX GVCTXMG AMXLSYX VIEPPC FIMRK GVCTXMG GLEVEGXIV SJ XLI CIEV, here is CREEPY 2.0

creepy was probably my least favorite character to draw. its head shape with the hair that always ends off screen, the 4 arms, the lack of any real way to move visible, it has always been a mess of a character. don't get me wrong, creepy is my second favorite character to write for (beaten only by neuro), i love its personality and its inflection, i just never got the chance to show that because i hated drawing it so much.

so for the redesign, i've basically reimagined it. its face hair now has an actual definitive ending, it has a more unique shape, and is just much more expunged-friendly in my opinion. it looks even more like its mom now...

next is this one, i thought she was american. here's PARANORMAL 2.0

i'm gonna be totally honest i have no idea what i was doing when designing para for the first time. that outfit was 100% subconsciously stolen from some other character i can't think of right now. it also really just didn't fit her character at all. also i dont know why i gave her boobs???? what????

anyways for the redesign she's basically a whole new design now. i wanted to play with some shape language. also, para always had a sort of inhuman quality to me, despite her personality, so i've given her inverted eyes and some animalistic features. i guess it adds irony or something, i dunno.

and finally, the moment GERIATRIC CAT you've all been waiting for, UNNERVING 2.0

in truth nervy's design is my favorite. the only gripe i had is the lack of legs, like with creepy. also i had to give her one of the same pride flag ass gradient as the rest so she'd fit in with the rest. other than all that i love her she is perfect just the way she is with minor adjustments

that's all the redesigns done!! i only did these 4 because stabby is not mine to redesign and NEURO is perfect just the way it is. feel free to give me any constructive criticism for these redesigns, i can always tweak em a bit. also the more stripy gradients wont a pattern that follows the contours of the body but rather just unmoving plaid always. i hope this lengthy yap sesh contributed something to something, maybe gave some insight into my characters.

and if you got this far i put a public discord server link in the intro post. you dont gotta ask anymore. dont tell anyone....shhh....*lovingly puts my finger on your lips* *smirks* *bolts away* *gets hit by truck* *instantly fatal*

[spider-jaysart]

Character ask: Damian Wayne (duh!)

@venetiangoldroz

Lolll

1. How I feel about this character:

Small boy!! Very intelligent, has a good heart that he usually tries not to show off too often but it is always there with him, sweet animal lover, and is a cool, crazy, weird kid that I love so much lmao

2. All the people I ship romantically with this character:

Jon Kent

3. My non romantic otp for this character:

Jon Kent

4. My unpopular opinion for this character:

Some fans don't like that Damian is a fan of Dinah Lance as a singer, but I personally like it lol. I don't like how silly he was made to be about it though, like singing one of the songs out loud in public for example, because he would never actually do that all lmaooo, he would keep that to ONLY himself lol. Also, I'm hearing now that it was actually a crush he was having on her, which I hate. Like, yes, he's an adult in that specific comic, but I'm tired of DC making him fall for almost every female and older woman that he interacts with, like just let him be normal about them already!!! I just like him being a fan of her music and that's it

5. One thing I wish would happen/had happen with this character in canon:

Not just one thing, cause I'mma list them all here

Start getting the respect he deserves after so much😤, cause like he literally changed himself and went through so much development for years now, but it's still not enough for DC writers or even some fans!! Like, just what do you want from him anymore????? He's been trying so much for too long now!!

For writers to stop treating him like he's nothing but evil, because he's not!! He's just a kid who grew up with a kind of life that's VERY different from everyone else's and was just taught ever since from a really young age to see things in other ways because of that. He does have a heart, it's the reason why he's made so much effort to become the person and hero he is today now and has left the whole League life behind. And about him being a tough person, that's just literally his dang personality, it's not something that adds to him being "evil" at all either

For DC to also just let him choose and make his own path as a hero when he grows up. He shouldn't become the next Batman by force or go through with becoming head of the Loa either, one of the big parts about his character is about discovering who HE actually is and figuring out what he really wants for himself instead, so he deserves to make his own choices by his own will. He should also become a vetinarian when it comes to getting a career

Stop with the white washing and start consistently representing his Arab side more, just like how the artist Gleb Melnikov did very boldly and also wonderfully in Robin 2021 when drawing him

And another one for the writers is to also stop making him crush on older woman!!!! PLEASE!! Just cut it out already!!! This entire thing has been going on ever since he was just 10 years old and nothing about it has ever been "cute!" or whatever they think of it as! It's just freaking weird and I don't understand why DC writers keep doing that to him! He's just a kid, not a grown man, so treat him like it!!! And stop deaging woman who were also already much older just to be with him and stop setting him up with his own female family members too! That one's already happened twice now (Mar'i and Cassandra) and now I'm scared that the writers of the second Supersons movie are gonna push that into there too with Cassandra AGAIN and ruin the film that way, which I really HOPE that doesn't happen AT ALL!😖

Let him have an actual relationship with his Mother instead of keeping them distant so much! Damian deserves to have her in his life too, not just Bruce as his Father, and she also deserves to have him in hers as well. Despite how things may be, they really love eachother a lot and it's not fair that they don't get to be as close as they were before, which is also really heartbreaking to think about honestly

Damian should also get to have a relationship with Respawn too that can develop into a sibling one at some point if ever he ever does appear again in the future

Never let him act like a normal person, let him forever be his weird, strange self, because that's literally one of the biggest things that MAKES HIM DAMIAN and I love him for it lol. Batman and Robin 2023 tried to change this about him in it's protayal and I hated it, it felt like some imposter, which just frustrated me a lot and made some things boring too. This goes for other kinds of mischaracterizations that were done to him too, like Gotham War as the most recent example, which was a big time failure at doing it well in a different way. Writers need to learn how to get to know him better first before actually writing him in their stories, deciding how he will react and treat things that happen in said story and it's plot. Here's something else much better too, he needs to start getting writers who actually like/love, respect, and actually understand him!

I think that's all for now loll but Thank you for the ask, @venetiangoldroz !! Sorry about the little delay btw, but I enjoyed answering this!!!

[calcitedraws]

Announcement!

I am going to be remaking There's Always Tomorrow!

It's still in it's early stages but I feel like the original isn't as good as I'd like it to be and Fen has grown since I released the original demo. I sit here, 1,000 words into the script I'm still hacking away at.

I said I was going to write a 70k word fic but I realized if I'm going to do that then I might as well address the original underdeveloped script I already wanted to remake. So yes the 70k fic is technically happening I'm just. Making it into a Visual Novel. The word count purely will be considered by in game text. :3

So what's gonna happen?

My intention is to update on my progress every week or so! I don't know when this will be ready to release. I'm probably not going to make a Discord but who the hell knows anymore.

What will you add/change?

I'll be inserting more lore. Some of it might be subtle some of it might be directly stated. But I have a mountain of secret lore and by Fen's ahoge it's ready to be heard. I also steered Fen in a slightly direction since I released the game and have a better grasp on who they are. I also want to add better art and more endings. I also want to add more outfits.

I mean. Look at my latest drawings of them versus the in game sprites.

Let's just say practicing several times a week over these (checks notes) 5 months have made me a better artist.

[silenthearts]

Say thank you.

Warnings⚠️: this fic is intended for adults only, no minors or profiles without age. This is smut smut smut, so you have been warned! 18+

This fic includes: Afab!reader, Oral (R! receiving), use of a strap, Ellie calls you angel, overstimulation, softdom!ellie, bottom!reader, p*rn no plot, Ellie calls herself sir , not proof read👌🏻🎉

This is just a little drabble and my first leap into writing smut but I couldn't get this out of my head so yeah 🤣

Ellie basks in the warmth of the glorious sunset that illuminates most of her flat. The sun illuminates her favorite things and one of those is you, sprawled over the couch as she draws shapes with her tongue over your sensitive vulva.

You sigh, and your legs twitch as you approach yet another orgasm. You've lost count of how many at this point. She sucks and toys with your clit and licks you up like a starved woman, making it unbearable on your sensitive nerves.

"I... I can't..." You say through ragged breaths and involuntary moans. Ellie smirks and brings her fingers to your entrance, not quite going in yet as she teases your wet hole.

"of course you can baby, you have just a few more to go" she adds as she pushes her index finger in and massages the spongy spot near the entrance. The one that makes your mouth open in a silent scream, the one that gives you a cold sensation in your stomach and makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"I'm cumming" You moan loudly as the height of your orgasm washes over you , Ellie moans with you as she moves her fingers over and over the same spot and suckles on your clit.

You barely even register what is happening as you cum, clear liquid squirts out, over and over . You have no control as your body twitches and convulses. You shamefully try and fail, to bring your hips away from her expert fingers who continue their insistent assault. Your juices wash over the couch as well as all over her hand and face.

"Atta girl," she says followed by your moans as you slowly come down from it, your muscles still twitching involuntarily but all you can feel is your sweet girlfriend peppering kisses all over your hips and wet thighs.

"You're such a good girl, making a mess all over..." She smiled wickedly leaving a trail of love bites on your hips. She kisses your lips tenderly but ferociously. Sharing the juices of your orgasm with you. You moan her name against her mouth and without much of a warning, she lines her strap against your puffy and extremely sensitive vulva.

Rubbing the object up and down, making sure to rub your clit nice and hard against it. Your hips involuntarily buckle against the object.

"Ellie! I don't know if... I can go on anymore." You say out of breath, but instead, she brings her rough fingers and firmly grabs your chin, tilting your head up.

"Yes you can baby, you've made a mess everywhere, so now you're gonna have to make up for it." she smirks and without much of a warning, you feel the strap enter you. The fullness and hardness of it makes you gasp. She inserts in slowly and once it's all in she stops.

"Now say thank you, for all the times I've made you cum, angel" she moves in and out slowly and sensually. The sensation overwhelms you , and although you open your mouth to speak no words come out.

"Say it" she gives you a slap on the outside of your thigh and makes a quick move to rub your clit with the pad of her thumb.

"Say , Thank you sir" she insists, her movements becoming faster and more urgent.

"Thank... You... Sir" you moan, finding it hard to string a sentence together when you feel a hot sensation in your stomach again.

She lands a slap on your clit and suddenly you're seeing stars as another orgasm threatens to wash over you. She's panting "That's it baby, now cum for me again".

....

I'm working on another request atm! I'm really happy that people take their time to request stuff ! I'm just going over a lil bit of a block on that one but hopefully it will be out soon!