#oc dew

[draagu]

new dew ref :D

[carnivorousyandeere]

Tramp Stamp ft. Dew

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: tattooing, cockwarming, unsafe impact play, under-negotiated kink, degradation

Info: sub reader, gn reader

Mean-ass bunny boy. This idea haunted me until I wrote it. Hopefully now I can focus on the things I’d planned to write today.

The tattoo machine falls silent behind you.

“Quit fuckin’ moving,” Dew hisses, gloved hand squeezing your hip bruisingly tight. “Or do you want this to look like ass?”

You shake your head with a low whimper, trying to force your body to go limp across the tattooing bench, only for your piteous sound to make Dew twitch inside you and curl over your back with a low, choked groan of his own. He draws in a shaky breath, and you hear the tattoo machine clatter onto Dew’s tray. You try to roll your hips, desperately hoping that he’s finally going to give in and give you want you want.

You hear the resounding crack before you feel it.

Pain sears through your ass cheek, stealing your breath and leaving you limp across the table in shock. With no warning, and no warm-up spanks, his slap leaves you raw and aching, clenching around Dew sporadically.

“Quit goddamn distracting me.” Dew drags a wet paper towel a little too roughly across your half-finished tattoo. He mutters under his breath, rambling to himself more than to you, “Fuckin’ sweating everywhere, making the ink run more… fuckin’ slut. Maybe I should just ink that on you instead, give everybody a fair warning when they see you.”

The tattoo machine rumbles back to life.

[illusionaryneil]

extremely important oc lore....

[beaniebabs]

thinkin about,,,, dew n her parents

SO. Dew. Jack’s (whom belongs to Rox) girlfriend-turned-baby-mama. She very certainly is something. I can’t imagine her growing up poor, but I also don’t think she was “rich” by any means. Maybe a nice middle/upper middle class— just enough to where she had nice things and has come to expect them.

She. LOVES. Things. She’s very materialistic. She doesn’t WEAR much jewelry 99% of the time, but she definitely loves having it. She likes her stuff to be Big and Shiny and New— and Expensive. And that’s definitely carried over into her adulthood. Except instead of getting presents from her dad, she gets them from men she either uses for their money or actively steals from them! <3 She is SO perfect.

ANYWAY, onto her parents! I don’t remember their names or even if I gave them any, so I’ll just call ‘em Mom and Dad, I guess.

So, like a lot of families, Dew’s parents took on the good cop bad cop trope. Mom, likely unexpectedly, being the bad cop, and Dad being the good cop. Because of this, Dew is a HUGE daddy’s girl, to where to this day she probably calls them Mom and Daddy (/nsx.)

Dad is very laid back. He’s a little goofy, he’s a little clumsy, etc. He’s definitely the guy you wanna go to first when you do something wrong. He’s the “don’t tell mom” type of dad, usually— BUT he does have the decency to keep her in the loop if things are too important to keep a secret. He loves his kids and he doesn’t want them to be punished, but he loves his wife, too!

Mom, on the other hand, has to take care of almost all discipline in the house. She’s been sorta forced into that role, since without her acting like that, nothing would get done. They’d all just be playing games and watching TV and never doing their homework because Dad doesn’t like to be the bad guy. So she’s had to be the bad guy. Does she like it? Absolutely not! She wishes she could be the fun parent sometimes. She wants her kids to adore her like they adore their father (though she definitely babies Bryce, Dew’s younger brother, quite a bit— probably subconsciously to make up for having to be the stickler and because she wants that same love from her kids). But the joke’s on her, they DO love and respect her a lot! It’s clear to see how much effort she puts into the family and they try to let her know that all her work isn’t going unnoticed— though they can’t just say it out loud like that, that’d be too weird and sappy!

I DUNNO!!!! I love their family a lot…. (:

Also: when Mom gets mad, she calls Dew “Dee Dee.” Wanna know why? That’s her real name! She just goes by Dew— partially because she’s a little embarrassed by Dee Dee being her name, and partially because I think Dad calls her his little dew drop…. 🥺💖

[kociamieta]

now watch her float . for some reason he's my favorite architect to draw

[j5daigada]

here's your burger

[natsumipocket]

Sparkly dew in sunrise ˚｡°🍄

[mozzaremi]

waiter waiter, more grey background pleasee

[tiny-wyrms]

cozy ⭐️🌌💫

[solar-calculators]

From left to right: Sleep of Reason, Soap Bubbles ("The First Contiguity of Spring" is her online name), Midst Morning Dew, Trail to Flames

These are not the final designs yet (I forgot to make antennas for two)

[warizoh]

[draagu]

drew my ocs yippeee

[carnivorousyandeere]

(silly ask) other than scott which other ocs of yours are yancels (yandere incels/femcels)

Thank you for sending this ask, giving me an excuse to use this gif since Scott and few other yans on the list definitely need to hear this (from a show called the Social Network; haven’t seen it, but these lines stuck with me since I first saw the gif):

Also I love the term yancel, hope you don’t mind me using it in the future. It’s just perfect! Other yancels and yancel-adjacent OCs here are as follows:

Cam, but only a little bit

Wisteria (college group one) is a bit of an incel/femcel, gets very pick-me with her Darling

Thorn (college group one) was supposed to be incel but I honestly kinda failed to write her that way because she could get it, and has very little expectations for sex and romance (except with her Darling)

Memphis (werecats) would probably qualify? I mean, she’s been absorbed into a polycule and gets spoiled with almost all the love and sex she wants so I’m not sure she qualifies anymore. But she definitely did at one point.

Rayleigh (student council) is definitely a femcel and pick-me, she tries not to be openly bitter about it but those feelings are in there

Dew (bikers) is not a literal incel/femcel but there’s something about his attitude towards sex and love that comes from a similar place

Tomi (zodiac) is a little bit of an incel/femcel, even if their bright clothes and talkative nature camouflage it

[illusionaryneil]

💖💖💖💖

[justporo]

Dew Drops

Author's Note: I wrote this on a whim today because I felt very emotional and was inspired by a song. I cried while writing this - quite a lot actually. I'll happily show and the translate the song later because it is quite perfect for Astarion (and Tav).

Summary: After Astarion has become free, he takes a moment to reflect and do something he'd never thought possible...

Pairing: Astarion / Tav (You) Warnings: mentions of past trauma Wordcount: 1,1k Song (the inspiration for this piece): Tau - Herbert Grönemeyer

~~~

Just before the first sun rays were creeping over the roofs of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion got out of bed. Slowly, so he wouldn’t wake you up, still blissfully in your dreams beside him.

He watched you for a moment. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Watched how your chest was slowly rising and falling. Your hands softly curled up against your chest. Your lips soft and relaxed: neither curled into a smirk nor drawn down – just silently peaceful.

Astarion almost stayed there then, lost in you. The one person that had helped him come this far. The one who had so purely believed in him – that there was more, that he was more.

He let one finger slowly wander over your cheek – so featherlight you didn’t even stir in your sleep. The smile that crept onto his lips was genuine and bright and full with warmth and love.

Then he got up, got dressed. He wrote you a small note and then quietly left the room, left the inn.

Astarion purposefully wandered through the streets while most of the city was still asleep or just starting to blink its eyes. Purposefully, he went to a place he’d come to know like the back of his own hand.

This small little garden, hidden away in some backyard’s backyards – so hard to find it might have been forgotten by everyone – everyone, but the flowers and the vampire. The vampire who’d stumbled upon it sometime during his seemingly endless years, decades, centuries even of torment.

And this small little garden had become a tiny space of refuge for Astarion. A place of at least some peace and safety where he had spent so many nights when he had been able to steal away – sometimes for only a few minutes, sometimes almost whole nights.

And he’d sat there, comforted a little by the silvery moonlight and the twining plants and flowers – even though he never got to see their blossoms.

He found the way to the small space without any problem. It almost felt like he’d been there yesterday, although so much had changed since he’d last been here. Everything, in fact.

Not only had he broken the chains of his enslavement and walked in the sunlight again, but he had also found someone. Someone who’d promised him that he would not have to be alone ever again. And who had promised to help him carry the weight of the now broken, but still heavy chains – until hopefully someday he would be able to shake the shackles off as well.

Astarion entered the garden through an archway that led to the little safe haven. It still looked like he remembered: vines and bushes everywhere, deep and luscious green filling the whole space. The plants were full of still closed blossoms. Dew drops covered leaves and blooms and gave them an elegant silvery sheen.

The vampire let his fingertips softly wander over some of the plants and closed buds. Then he sat in his usual spot, a small rock at the back of the small rectangular space – directly across from the archway he had just entered through.

And then he waited.

He watched as the first golden rays of sunlight crept over the peaks of the stone walls. Like bright fingers they wandered over the plants, caressed them with their light and warmth. Softly brushing away the silver droplets of dew.

The first sunlight fell on Astarion who had awaited its arrival with anticipation, still wondering how lucky he could have been to feel it again. He had buried the hope so long ago.

He knew it wouldn’t last. So, he would make the most of it as long as he could.

He closed his eyes, completely giving himself to the feeling of the sun warming his pale skin. His lips opened with a little gasp. His chest shuddered with a ragged breath as he felt the tears well up. A single tear flowing over and leaving a wet trail on his cheek.

After a while he opened his eyes, hoping he hadn’t been too impatient.

But as he looked up and let his ruby gaze wander over the space his chest clenched painfully at the sight: the flowers had started to open up.

Offering him their whole palette of colours and beauty – the last dew drops glistening on them. The blossoms bowing to the warming sun, happy to show their beauty to him. Deep reds, almost golden yellow, wonderful blues and oranges. And in all shapes too: starlike chalices, frilly circles, cascading spheres.

He tried to take in everything at once as he looked at it with lips parted in wonder and astonishment. Observing every single combination possible. Wanting to imprint it all on his mind forever.

And as Astarion gazed upon this view he’d never dared to hope to take in one day, emotions overwhelmed him. And it was pleasantly painful, in all his beauty and bitter sweetness.

This, all this – it hurt so much. And it was so all hard, going on.

His chest was aching with sorrow and with joy as the single tear turned into a constant flowing and his whole body started shaking and shuddering.

The pain behind his sternum was so strong it almost felt as if his heart had finally started beating again.

It felt like most every emotion he had ever felt washed over him in this very moment – fear, hurt, guilt, grief. But also love, joy, compassion, confidence. All mixing together in a way that was barely tolerable, but most certainly meant one thing: he was alive.

And Astarion wept and wailed, lifting his head towards the comforting warmth of the rising sun as he cried. He doubled over as sobs shook through him. Cried out as tears ran over his face and his nose began to drop.

It hurt so much, all this.

But the pain meant he was still here. It meant he was free again. It meant he was ready and able to grasp life with both his hands and start living again. Even though it might not always be easy.

But he wouldn't be alone.

He looked up through his tears and a smile found its way on his lips as he looked upon the blooming flowers all around. He sobbed and he laughed as he saw the beauty in it. He felt alive.

And then you stepped through the archway and even the sight of all the flowers in the first sunlight could not compare. His companion through all of this and all to come.

You looked so worried the way you rushed over to Astarion, kneeling down in front of him. Wrapping your arms around him as he kept weeping and sobbing – not caring for how loud or unpleasant it might be. He let his head sink to your shoulder in unyielding gratefulness.

And you held onto each other until his sobs and tears slowly subsided.

You looked at him, cautiously asking if he was alright.

And Astarion looked up with a bright and broad smile, through the tears still remaining in his ruby eyes:

“Yes, my love. It’s just… it’s so beautiful to be alive.”

[kociamieta]

The entrance to the iterator chamber in Vastness of Silence's city, Elysium. Thread spent most of her childhood there, since Clay often took them to work with her.

With VOS being an older model, the architecture in its city was made to resemble that of pre-iterator structures.