#oc: salvadore

[jean-dieu]

*smash announcer voice* EVERYONE IS HERE

Friends, mutuals and peoples' Pathfinder OCs, mostly their Knight Commander from Wrath of The Righteous! (and a lil bit of Kingmaker too I believe).

It was fun to draw!! I hope I didn't make too much mistakes in their design.

Who belongs to who:

-Raphaël : me lol

-Ariadne : @arendaes @alterdaes

-Ekaterina : @three-of-crows

-Vio : @mountainashfae

-Mahiri : @lexsnotdead

-Cascade : @eurekq

-Sparrow : @cassynite

-Emery : @knight-commander

-Layla : @amatres

-Salvadore : @dmagedgoods

-Hilde : @rollofleaf

-Len : @undyingembers

-Knave : @iwoszareba

-Aria : @bearvanhelsing

-Eddi : @molochka-koshka

-Rimrock : @arrow90-art

-Yunessa : @yunessa

-Gillys : @offsidekineticist

[dmagedgoods]

Knight Commander Salvadore’s opinions about his companions

Tag game: Give your KC’s first impression and final opinion of each of their companions! Thank you so much for the tag, @spyridonya ❤ Careful, the final impressions include spoilers. Tagging: @iwoszareba @shiawasekai @amatres @thesolemnhour @outeremissary @offsidekineticist I have no idea who already got tagged and guess wildly. ~

First impressions of Salvadore

Seelah – What a tiring acquaintance. Her morality comes with all the depth of the headnote in a children’s book. At least, her sense of honor speaks in her favor. She is capable with her sword and knows how to follow orders. Camellia – Suspicious, put-on, trying too hard. She would not survive a day in the high society of Absalom but find herself torn apart. Either her status is a role, or Mendev’s aristocracy more pitiful than I feared. Wenduag – Do not stare at those legs. Deep breath, stay composed. Her approach is intelligent, strategical even, her values, on the other hand, entirely misguided. She chose a dark path to reach the desperate lifeboat she confuses with strength. Nonetheless, I see potential in her. Potential worth saving? If she means her words and follows the lead of the strongest, I may succeed at giving her a new perspective and a true chance to put her abilities to use. Lann – A man who finds so little worth in his own existence and yet attempts to run forward without a moment of thought makes for an unworthy leader of his kind. Disregard. Woljif – Is he still talking? His words are a senseless flood of irrelevance. Well, he has his amusing moments, I assume. I will have to watch him to contain his embarrassing habit of taking what is not his. For the time being, he should be of use and make for an efficient tool. I assume he won’t stay for long, he is not a soldier, and I won’t hold him captive by any means. Ember – Heavens, what was done to her? There is a deep wisdom in her words and views. And yet she utters them with all the disarming innocence of the child she is. I will protect her and make sure no harm will befall her again. Daeran – Being in charge always comes with heavy duties. He refuses them all. And while he leads the life of a mindless rake, his lack of political ambition makes it, well, acceptable. And yet, there is more to him. He fights with skillful, elegant efficiency, not afraid face to face with the demons invading his house. There is an air of freedom around him, his shining eyes are impressively observant, his mind as sharp as his provoking tongue. I admit, I am intrigued. He will be mine. If only for a night. He will be mine. Nenio – This epitome of ignorance calls herself a scientist? - A claim as ridiculous as her pathetic questions. Galfrey – The failures of the last crusades weigh heavy on her. Once radiant ruler, I can see the cracks, the tiredness of the woman underneath the mythos I heard all those praises about. She presents herself as surprisingly approachable. In her weakened position, that might prove a mistake. I wonder what her next steps will entail. Sosiel – I recognized a kindred spirit in him and I assume the feeling must be mutual. Last night, we sat and talked about art, about craftmanship, and wine, and beauty. It caused a bittersweet ache in me. I’m too far from Absalom, and something tells me Sosiel suffers a similar kind of yearning for a place he had to part from and yet stays with him, always. Once this war is over, I hope to visit his vineyards. Regill – A stern leader, attentive, sharp-minded, knowledgeable, experienced, efficient. Is he trying to challenge me? He will lose this battle, should he attempt to. Nonetheless, I’m impressed and interested in a solid partnership. My idea of the Hellknights might need adjustment. Arueshalae – A demon with a conscience, choosing her own path? I have to stay cautious, and yet … Her determination moves me. Can it be true? Can even a succubus re-invent herself to step past her pre-destined chains and limitation? If so, it proves everything I believe in. Show it to me, Arueshalae, don’t disappoint me now.

Greybor – His company is pleasant. An intelligent man with a rational mind. Furthermore, a useful weapon. I appreciate his codex and harbor no doubt that our arrangement will prove advantageous to both of us. Trevor – He endured down here, all this time. Impressive. I will reunite him with his brother as soon as I found a way out. Ulbrig – [I played Salvadore’s playthrough before the shifter was added and will come back to write his impressions about him once I finished his second playthrough.] ~

Final Impressions of Salvadore

[Heavy spoilers for the ending of the game]

Seelah – Her self-doubt and inconsequence are a danger for herself and those around her and her choice of ‘friends’ speaks of a concerning lack of insight. Nonetheless, I wish her well and hope her travels will help her move past those shortcomings. Camellia – Would there have been another way? I cannot say that I understand her motivation, her drive, but we travelled and fought together and a part of me wonders if a different approach could have led to a less violent outcome. She forced my hand into attack and paid the price for her crimes, but too much stays in the dark. Lann – Still as bland as the last time. Wenduag – She must have realized the mistake she was making before the battle even started. How, after all this time, could she misjudge that badly? In the end she threw it all away, the position of power offered to her in my army, her developments, her own potential. It pains me. Not her betrayal but my own failure. Where did I go wrong in my attempt of showing her a better way? Woljif – You hid him well, the man you are. – Well enough you needed some time to find him yourself. I’m looking forward to our upcoming projects and adventurous nights you and my husband drag me to. In all you are, in all you became and always were: I am honored to call you my friend. Ember – I recognized your strength from the moment we met. I would like to claim I guided you, but it was all inside of you from the start and my advice merely a final drop to reach your full potential. Listening to your last speech left me impressed and proud. My heart is heavy thinking of your silent departure. Continue on, little bird, go and change the world. Should you ever need it, I will be your haven to return to. Daeran – Light of my life, center of my world, to see you free from all those chains is the greatest achievement, the strongest of pleasures, worth any sacrifice and nothing fulfills me more. I adore everything you are, your light and your darkness, your strength and your weakness, your vulnerable tenderness and each of your sharp edges. You are my goal and my reason, my home and my journey. I love you. Nenio – I grew weirdly fond of her. Why I felt happiness about her return is beyond me. But I’m willing to admit that I’m excited for the final version of her encyclopedia. Galfrey – It should not have ended like this. Our swelling battle for influence, my rise to power to threaten yours, you knew it, you were well aware. You sent me to the Abyss and marched to Iz, it was your decision, not mine, your miscalculation, your defeat, your duty as their leader to hold out until I saved our people, until I preserved the knowledge needed for the goal we shared. The risk you took, the duty to hold out, it is the price of rulership. Then why can I not get rid of the voice whispering in my mind? Telling me that I hoped you would fail and die, your throne free for the taking, that your death would pave the way for me. Mendev in the palm of my hand. We both failed, Galfrey, we both failed that day. But I will carry on, I will wear this crown and leave our faults behind, to shape a nation of light. Sosiel – I feel this certain distance between us since my rejection. It seems to stand between us and I find myself unable to overcome it. Maybe it just needs more time. I look forward to visiting him and his brother and sincerely hope he’ll find the peace of mind he deserves and a life filled with kindness and beauty. Regill – My trusted advisor and second in command, my friend I turn to whenever I wish for advice, wiser than me, with your unconditional, selfless devotion to our goals: You are not dismissed. I need you at my side. Trevor – He is strong and even with the horrors lingering deep within, he will make a life worth living, I am certain. Arueshalae – She succeeded. It proves that we all decide our own path and who we want to be, independently from so-called ‘destiny’, no matter where we stand. I will visit her soon, and urge her to overcome her solitude just enough to make the connections she craves.

Greybor – He is on his way home, to the place he is needed at. I support his decision. Maybe we will meet again one day. Ulbrig – [I played Salvadore’s playthrough before the shifter was added and will come back to write his impressions about him once I finished his second playthrough.]

[silversiren1101]

At The End - OCKiss24 Salvadore x Minovae

I managed to find time to actually participate in a writing event! We can thank my new ADHD meds for that I'm sure. Anyway, this first is featuring my Minovae and @dmagedgoods Salvadore, who I have long cherished their relationship as much as it's fascinated me. They're what could have been and what could never be. I'm so happy with how this came out - please know I cried multiple times while writing it!

Violet eyes looked out over the city below and beyond the marble balustrade. Smoke rose from nearly every main plaza and thoroughfare, and even what seemed to be the most innocuous of alleyways as well as the highest parapets. For the first in some many decades, nay, a century, even, there was no cause for alarm from this. It wasn’t demons ravaging the last line of defense in this nation that both was and wasn’t, but now could be. The war hadn’t reached here, Nerosyan, the capital, because the war was over.

The Knight Commander had done it. Knight Commander Salvadore had closed the Worldwound. Where no other could, and it hadn’t been for lack of trying, but for all so much bloodsoaked and desperate failure, the war had finally ended.

And by a poncy, arrogant noble with a stick up his ass to rival even Iomedae’s.

Miracles, it seemed, weren’t in so short supply as the name of this age had made it seem.

Minovae sighed deeply looking out over the city with its night sky filled with smoke for the first time not from war but from celebration, her tail listlessly hanging off the edge between the balusters. Bonfires beat back the darkness, and she realized then that the smell and sight was what was making her stomach clench and eyes rimmed with wet. How much like home it was, poor battered and stripped Westcrown, whose nightly pyres weren’t out of any cause for celebration but to beat back the shadow-beasts that stalked her streets once the sun set and feared the light.

A home she knew she’d never see again.

The ache in her mind from Thrune’s brand told her as much. She’d never make it as far as Westcrown once she crossed the border of homeland. They’d take her back to Egorian, where the beginning of this end began, and they’d put the loose end that she was to close once and for all. It was coming. Soon. She knew it was. They might even be ready to disappear her as soon as she stepped from Nerosyan’s walls.

The thought only reinforced that emptiness that pervaded her. She had nothing left to fight for, anyway. Even more, she’d fought alongside heroes. She’d helped do the impossible. The Crusades were over, and she’d played no small part in it. Even the fact she wore this evening not her armor, its weight heavy and familiar comfort, but finery, felt strange. So much of her existence had been defined by steel and blood and blade and shield, and now it was drawing to a close not in the middle of a craggy field that smelled of iron, but on the night of celebration, in a gala hosted by literal royalty.  

The liquor in her glass burned comfortingly as she took another sip. ‘As strong as you have’, she’d told the man, who’d grinned and reached under the bar for something so old and dusty she hadn’t been able to catch the label. It did the trick, vapors stinging her nose and warming her throat and gut better than anything she’d had in years, and she reminded herself to thank him before she left for the night.

“Ah, here you are.”

She would have started had her senses not been dulled by drink—truthfully, this was her fifth glass. The clink of the ice as she’d knocked it back had disguised his footsteps, she surmised. He had no reason to sneak up on her tonight, and he walked with all the confidence and bravado his station and title presumed on his behalf at nearly all times.

“Here I am…”, she flicked her gaze to the corner as he came to the balcony balustrade, leaning against it, mindful of her tail where it trailed across the marble. Those icy blues locked onto hers and held that gaze firm. She might have thought it a challenge, or some type of implied order as he was oft to give, had his lips not been lightly tugged ever so upwards at their corners into a smile that was, by all accounts, warm. She stared at those lips perhaps a moment too long, before continuing. “Though I’m not sure it is really you, Sal, with such an expression on that face.”

He took no offense to the diminutive of his name. Not with her, at least. But she did note the quirk in his brow; inquisitive.

“My dear, it is a night for celebration, if you have not noticed.

“And so even the great Salvadore can afford himself a smile? I see”, she smirked.

It felt bitter. Even as happy as she truly was for him, for all of them, the emptiness of her future had tainted this night before it had even began. She quickly returned her gaze to the bottom of the glass cradled between her fingers, dangling over the edge of open air above the city below.

A heavy beat of silence passed. She knew without meeting that gaze again that he was aware something was weighing on her. He was one of the few she’d ever met that matched her ability to read nearly anyone, no matter how inscrutable.

“You should go back inside, you know. It is a night for celebration, after all”, she used his own words, hoping it would rub him wrong enough to just make him leave. “I’m sure they’ll be wondering where the man of the evening is.”

But, she knew the copious drink had taken her off her game tonight. Normally she could handle him as she did other nobles, though certainly not lightly–he’d ever been one of her most difficult rivals. Even admitting as such had rankled her, but now, here, she could only think of the term fondly. She internally cursed the sweet heat cloying her thoughts.

“Without you? Without whom this would not be possible? No, my dear, your absence has been noticeable enough. You have spent enough time endearing the night air with your appearance, when it would be much better spent on the unworthy eyes back inside.”

She snorted at that. Shook her head. “Are you saying I look nice?”

“Is that such a surprise? You look beautiful. It is a crime that the first time I have seen you in a dress, you’ve spent most of it hiding away.”

It was true. She’d been present for the opening ceremonies, of course. She’d even started the night just as lively and bright as nearly everyone else, dancing one or two waltzes with their friends—then, someone had asked her what she would do next, after all this was done.

And the brand seared into her mind had started to ache.

She swallowed down a sigh, not wanting him to hear. Her tail, heavy, almost languidly, pulled itself back up from the plummet she wanted to take before them and instead squished the air like shoulders would a shrug.

“You could have always ordered me into a dress, if you were so desperate to see it.”

“It would not have looked half as radiant on you than one donned willingly. I can see there was truth to your stories. Any lesser man in there would crumple before you, if you had your heart set on crushing theirs.”

Had he always been this funny, she wondered. No, it was the alcohol working in his favor. Still, she chuckled. Heat licked to the skin beneath her scaled cheeks. She knew she must’ve looked much like a watermelon then–those green-tinted opals sitting in a sea of red.

“Alright, alright. Need I tattle to Daeran with how much you’re trying to butter me up?” 

It was an empty threat and joke, they both knew. The only thing Daeran would be mad at was that he was not here to see and hear this for himself. 

“When I left, he was last doing what I expected you  to be doing all evening. Dancing the night away, breaking those hearts with each hand he trades for another.”

“I’m glad he’s enjoying himself. It’s just… louder in there than I remember…”, she answered wistfully. “I’m not used to being around so many people again. At least, not in a war camp… without my armor.”

He knew all about her past navigating through galas and parties much like these. She’d told him as such, how she used to stalk her prey on their own grounds, playing their own game; the Hellknight who’d eschew her armor for a dress and weapon for an invitation to dance, luring the guilty in with honey only to bring them to the guillotine all the same.

She only hoped he’d accept the excuse. Just telling him the truth would kill her. Him, possibly, too. Literally. The last thing she wanted on her record before she went to the Boneyard was taking down the angelic hero who’d ended the Crusades in a blackened, infernal blaze of her brand detonating.

“It has quieted some. The wine has seen to that, and most have had their choices in dance.”

She hummed. “Then surely my presence isn’t that missed.”

“On the contrary”—a shift of movement caught her attention. She looked back up from her glass toward him once more, and found a hand, fingers lightly curled upward, extended in invitation towards her.

“This entire Crusade, you have bragged about your prowess on the dance floor and told me of your greatest triumphs taking down ‘arrogant blowhard fops of my caliber,’”—she felt a rush of even hotter flame to her cheeks and a rattle shook her tail as he’d remembered one of the rants she’d gone on after particularly pissing her off—“, and yet, I have yet to see it for myself. I insist: would you have but a single dance with me, Lady Minovae?”

She stared. First, at his hand, those tan fingers extended invitingly. By all accounts they should be as rough and calloused as hers, and yet they looked untouched by the horrors of the war they’d both fought through, side by side. His nails were perfectly cut and filed, and shone beneath the moonlight. Hells, she swore there was a light glow emanating from it, but she had no idea if it was just from how bright the moon was, or because of the angelic power coursing through him. It looked warm, despite him being a dhampir.

And then her gaze shifted upward, to the rest of him. His blue eyes had narrowed, warm, inviting, despite how piercingly cold their color was. She noticed then that the night had gotten to his usual perfectly manicured and groomed self. Some hairs had fallen from his typical neat style, wayward curls—curls!—teasing his forehead and giving him an almost roguish appeal that made her breath catch. For once, he looked real. He looked mortal. At this, his highest point in power, literally touched by the Heavens and the Abyss alike, Salvadore looked more like a living, breathing, touchable person than at any other point in which she’d known him. He didn’t rise in her that distrust and disgust that normally appeared when she lay eyes upon a noble, even with him dressed in the brightest white and gold finery she’d ever seen.

He looked… 

Warm. Handsome. Inviting. Mortal. An ally. A friend. Something more. Her breath caught for a moment. She found herself staring at his lips again, sitting above his chiseled chin and jawline. Had they always looked so… soft? He was doing that soft smile again, confident and controlled, but welcoming. The kind that made you let down your guard, of which the whiskey clouding her thoughts certainly wasn’t helping.

“A good kisser?”, she snorted derisively. “I didn’t know they taught you how to kiss in noble school. I certainly don’t know where else you would’ve learned given how insufferable you are. Unless that mysterious ‘mentor’ of yours taught you that, too.”

Salvadore only made a low noise in the back of his throat, confident and knowing. The look he shot her was much the same. “You are welcome to a demonstration, if you need the proof, my lady knight, Arangeir.”

Her boisterous laugh was all the answer he needed: never in a million years.

She remembered the moment in a sudden flash like it was yesterday. She couldn’t even remember what had triggered that conversation, but she certainly remembered the tease and invitation now. It hadn’t been a million years, but she wouldn’t get a million years. Sal might. He and Daeran together. But she wouldn’t. She might not even get a week. Daeran would forgive her for this, she knew… and well, if he didn’t, she supposed she wouldn’t be around long to suffer it.

“…A dance?”, she licked her lips, suddenly feeling overly warm, overly flushed. Her dress exposed much of her back and shoulders, letting her feathers and scales breathe , and only went to about her mid-thigh regardless. Still, she felt hot. She felt stupid, too, but did it matter? “You can have your dance, if I can have something in return.”

That piqued his curiosity. Salvadore drew his hand back slightly, if only because he’d straightened his posture. His head tilted, and a brow raised. Something glinted in his eye. Concern? She didn’t care.

“Do you remember months ago… You claimed to be a good kisser. I didn’t believe you. What if I told you I still don’t?”

Her pulse was racing now. She could feel it thud-thud-thudding in her chest. It got even worse as realization dawned upon him.

She half expected a slap; he was a taken man now, after all. He might have even just turned around and gone back inside, which, fine. For the moment, though, he only stared at her. She could tell he was trying to decipher why she was asking for this now, why in the Hells now? Could she blame him? Of course not, he had no idea the severity of the truth, of just how little time she had left to do what she wanted and be a little crazy before everything ended.

What she didn’t expect was for those fingers to return. Closer. Curled under her chin.

She gasped lightly, hotly, as Salvadore clasped her jaw. Those hands were cold, as she thought, but the feel of that icy chill across her flushed skin felt almost like healing magic dancing across wounds, knitting them closed. 

Her tail vibrated anxiously, filled with so much energy where it had lain dead before. She could feel her feathers rising from neck to tail tip, fluffing up in that way that made her look like an alarmed cat.

Their eyes held each others’, and his additionally held a question. 

Now or never.

“You promised a demonstration”, she merely answered.

He needed no other reassurance.

Their height difference made it more difficult than it should have been, but Salvadore had been only truthful in his claims. He knew exactly what to do.

A hand pressed to the flat of her back, directly over the strip of feathers running down her spine and scales surrounding them—now running icily themselves trying to cool her down. She briefly wondered if he even noticed with the chill in his own hands, but let it drift away as soon as it had come. He pressed her close and up, bidding her to her toes as he himself confidently arched downward.

Soft. They were soft. How funny it was, she thought, that such iron and coldness could come from those lips only for them to be so damn soft. Softer than hers. Theirs pressed against the other, and her eyes slipped closed upon the gentle impact. She mapped them in the darkness behind her eyelids, each and every crease, the cupid’s bow, the feel of his breath across her face.

When had she last been kissed? She didn’t remember. Wetness rimmed her eyes again. She didn’t even love him. Love had escaped her at every turn, snatched away always and viciously by circumstance. All she could think of was the emptiness, of what hadn’t been and what she’d never had. His lips right then, for only this brief moment, were filling that yawning void. It was a piece that didn’t fit in this puzzle. Not perfectly. But for a moment, it was filled.

Then pressing. Then prodding. Further still, he took it, and she went rigid in shock before melting as his tongue breached what should have been where this had ended. It brought with it the taste of wine, luxurious and more opulent than any her salary would have spared. Something in her found it funny that for as much as she’d always tormented him about her dislike of fine wines, he’d still found a way to share a glass with her.

At the end. Of everything.

[blvckentropy]

Travelling witch doctor for @buttertrait adventure guild

[cassynite]

A gift for the amazing @dmagedgoods, featuring Salvadore as the protagonist of life (as he should be) with Sparrow tagging along as a companion.

Sphinx, I'm so happy you liked this! Sal is such a great character and I'm so glad you feel I did him justice <3 Sparrow's an unofficial official companion for him in my mind.

[dmagedgoods]

This will never not be delightful, I snickered as much as the first time. Beautiful. Glorious. 😂❤️❤️❤️

Owlcatober Day 27: Portrait

Daeran, as pleased by Mix and Sal. A Lestat reference as well because of course.

Art by @dmagedgoods! 🤭 You capture Mix so well and I must specifically commend his nose in this one of course.

"I cannot imagine that he even attempted to capture your teasing smile, your casually elegant demeanor, or even the proper tone of your hair," Salvadore hummed quietly, appraising a bust sized portrait that he had commissioned of the three of them. He stood beside Daeran, with his arms crossed as he scrutinized the work that had been delivered that morning, just in time for the celebration. It had been intended to portray the three of them as seen through Salvadore's eyes.

"Nor did that wretched excuse for an artist make any successful attempt to capture my temptuous gaze," Daeran scoffed, as scandalized as Salvadore but more dramatic, as he always was, shaking his head in disapproval. He had spent so long curating the way he presented himself that he expected an accomplished artist to at least come close to capturing it.

Salvadore nodded along, the two of them riling each other up in their own ways, as they critiqued the comissioned portrait together.

"My wings. What has he done to them? That color could not pass for 'white' even without a single source of light to reveal their obvious yellow tint," Salvadore's voice raised slowly and steadily as his patience bled away just barely, only noticeable to a small group of people to which Daeran belonged. "What a waste."

Daeran glanced over, having noticed his tone shift a bit angrier than he had expected it to. A devious and chuffed demeanor took over the oracle's soft features as he held his gaze meaningfully on a fully distracted Salvadore.

"Then we are decided," his hand waved in the air with a sense of finality, as if to wash away the offending paint strokes with his fingers, "we shall have this pitiful thing hidden in the basement posthaste so that at least Mesclavete never sees it, the lucky bastard." Daeran smiled at his solution, considering the luck he had that Salvadore didn't like the results either, as he really hated how he looked.

Salvadore's chin cocked and his eyebrow raised as he considered the option, still scrutinizing the portrait, as if consuming it as fuel - angry, demanding more somehow. Then both of them startled, interrupted -

"Why would you ever want to do that?"

The casually curious voice came from behind them as Mix approached slowly, his footsteps so light that neither of them noticed him until too late. But it was he who quickly noted the disappointment in the small room.

Salvadore's face flashed disdain and embarrassment, as if he had been caught red handed, his normally cool exterior under threat for a brief moment. The shame of his own failure to commission a perfect portrait already haunting him. A quiet sigh of exasperation escaped his lips as any hope of Daeran's solution faded away, bringing back his frustration, just as he was ready to enact the plan.

"Just look at it, Mes. This is the portrait I commissioned for you, for our home." Daeran rolled his eyes as Salvadore explained his vision. "Imagine traveling for months to visit us, only to be met with mediocre 'art' such as this on our walls. We look like mannequins. We owe our guests a much higher standard." The two knew that whenever Salvadore shortened their names, he was losing himself. The man turned and grabbed one of each of their hands, holding them together before himself. "And I owe *you* better," Salvadore added, in his calm words.

"I couldn't begin to guess what has gotten into our artists as of late. It's as if Sosiel's ridiculous Family Friendly Artists of The Wound club has distracted them from their true work - serving *us*." Mix couldn't help but chuckle at Daeran's commentary. It was true. Sosiel might be a wonderful artist himself, but he wasn't anything of an artistic mentor, and Mix and Daeran would never forgive him for refusing to draw the beautiful Aasimar in the nude.

Then Mix drew his attention back to his goal, sighed, and tried not to roll his eyes visibly. He had planned to retrieve his two snooty lovers for a romantic stroll, but resigned quickly that solving this issue took precedence.

He walked forward and drew a decorative dagger, fittingly dramatic for this act, and cut the painting out from the frame. The other two watched in horror as Mix collapsed the canvas between his palms then leaned in and took a bite out of it. Chewing the piece of painted canvas dramatically, he ripped the rest of it to shreds and, by the time he was finished, Daeran had a mischievous smile on his face and Salvadore's eyebrows were raised, exposing a sparkle in his eye. His solution much more dramatic than the one the other two had planned to enact.

Mix smiled, pleased with the results, and swallowed. They both looked so beautiful with little sparks of relief in their faces. Daeran even chuckled, bringing a smile to the faces of the other two as well. Mix loved solving problems for them.

His back now against the defaced frame, Mix gasped in feigned scandal when Sal then Daeran grabbed each other's hands and stepped closer to Mix. The nerves in his neck ignited as Daeran's lips landed on it, savoring the taste of him indulgently, sucking and pulling on his skin, teeth almost tearing at his flesh but not breaking skin. He was ot gentle

"You taste like paint, Mescalvete," Salvadore's quiet purr carried admiration as his lips enunciated against Mix's, having not pulled away after kissing him once, chastely. Sal's brow now feigned disapproval before he grabbed Mix's nape, pulling his head back and bending his neck. Simultaneously, Daeran pulled Mix's hips closer to himself and took his turn with Mix's lips.

Mix's eyes closed as he enjoyed both of their affections, chuckling. His mind almost ready to call his sidequest a success as Salvadore began migrating from his lips to his clavicle, peppering kisses along the way. Mix had to say one last thing before letting out a moan of approval and relaxing his muscles, letting Daeran pin his shoulders to the wall.

"I know the perfect curator to help us find an artist for our style. I will send for her tomo-" Daeran and Salvadore bit down on either side of his neck at the same time, making his breath catch midword. They both smiled against his flesh in response, satisfied with repaying him for their startle earlier. Their fingers on Mix's stomach intertwined in each other as their unoccupied hands simultaneously pressed into the seam on his hips and slid it down.

[2ghosts]

[koitosoup]

oc sketches

[inkly-heart]

[avionvadion]

Wanted to try drawing Eleanora in a dorm uniform. Having found an absolutely amazing template by @haryuwu to do so, I also did Poma because he is painfully lacking in pictures despite having so much presence in the fic, lol.

Template Link: https://www.tumblr.com/haryuwu/733516433061019648/twisted-wonderland-character-info-template-is?source=share

I thought about doing Ambros (The librarian I made before the RSA Headmaster decided to show up as Ambrose with an E, lol) but I... got lazy. Reynolds Ambros is twisted from Mother Gothel, for those who don't know, is rivals with Divus (he wanted to be potions master, darn it) while Poma is twisted from both Yzma and Kronk.

[drawotion]

Remembered a couple of characters~... :3c

[[character on second art belongs to @alanide-art !]]

[dmagedgoods]

Owlcatober day 3: Shelter

(story by me, art by @chaosteddybear)

~

He grit his teeth and stopped himself from shaking, determined not to show any weakness. The snow fell more densely now. It had become a swirling veil of white in the dim red shine of the night, swallowing the world outside of their cave. Their found shelter stopped the storm from reaching them, the cold, however, started to sneak in, to surround them mercilessly in the dying glow of the small fire they had lighted and the absence of almost any suited equipment after the accident.

“Here.”

He turned his head towards the offered bundle of fabrics, the only dry blanket left. It was woven with a hint of magic to defend from conditions as unpleasant as these and promised some true protection and warmth.

Salvadore felt an inexplicable anger at the considerate gesture, only serving to remind him of his helplessness and failure and how it was his fault that they had to abort the mission to find their way back in the morning.

“Keep it,” he decided, voice firm. He felt a strange mixture of discontentment and relief that Mesclavete seemed to handle the cold slightly better than he did. Or was he merely pretending too?

Mesclavete ignored his answer and put the blanket around his shoulders. “You’re freezing”

Was it that obvious? Immediately, his body wanted to sink deeper into the shielding warmth, but instead, he managed to glare at the other man with a threatening gaze.

Again, he was utterly ignored. His eyes followed his co-commander when he turned back and tried to get comfortable on the ground pad they had saved – not too much to fall asleep in the cold, but to rest his sour muscles for a while before the complicated climb ahead of them.

Salvadore knew him well enough to be under no illusion that he would stay stubborn and reject to take the blanket back and therefore … Well.

He took it off, left his place at the wall of the crave and joined Mesclavete on the pad. Without waiting for his consent – or his complaints – he moved close, put one arm around his body, and spread the blanket across both of them.

Salvadore felt him tense up against him.

“I don’t believe …”

“It’s the most effective solution,” he interrupted him – and with this his own thoughts trying to tell him that his idea was inappropriate in every single way, even if or especially since his body reacted with a heavy shiver of pleasure to the sudden warmth and more so to the feeling of Mesclavete being pressed tightly against his own.

“We will need all our strength tomorrow.” The way out of this valley would not be easy.

Mesclavete hummed in agreement; he didn’t protest, neither against his words nor against the enforced closeness.

[dmagedgoods]

@silversiren1101

[A letter in a white envelope, addressed in clean, entwined handwriting, carrying not only the Arendae seal but a magical secrecy seal as well, ensuring that only the recipient is able to open it.] Dear Minovae, Please forgive the slight delay of my answer. We recovered from what Daeran joyfully calls ‘the Valentine’s escapade’. Since both of us had to take two days off after we consumed those bon-bons, the following week became quite busy. Please don’t worry, they didn’t cause any health issues. We just weren’t … presentable in any kind of professional setting. To satisfy your curiosity, their effects included: a silvery glow of the skin (yes, everywhere), a tingling warmth (especially in sensitive body parts), strong arousal not subsiding through the usage of obvious measures, temporary color changes of the eyes, feeling light – almost like levitating, and the transformation of random body parts (ears, teeth, fingers and fingernails, skin, and, well, you can imagine what else). I can’t stop myself from feeling a hint of amusement (possibly more than a hint) while imagining Regill’s reaction to our little gift. And I’m genuinely delighted that you decided to read it out loud to him. You should have seen Daeran’s self-satisfied smirk when I gave him the letter. Unfortunately, he was the one who found the book and firmly refuses to share his sources. I’m still trying to find out more about the matter or if he actually wrote those stories himself. But his lips are sealed and I will need to use some advanced and subtle methods to research the origin of the book. Furthermore, he urged me to remark that the positions are by no means impossible with some trying around and that anything bringing more color to Regill’s face – or ears – can be called quite a successful gift. I’m tempted to agree with the second part. Though, please accept an apology for the bold gesture and a book that will be more to your liking, a collection of highly interesting and quite daring philosophical debates that ranks among my favorites. Also, please accept our invitation to our small garden party next month. Pharast 26, on Heaven's Edge. It's only meant for close friends. We miss your company (and Regill’s too) and hope you’ll find the time. Much love Salvadore P.S. If you see Woljif before we do, please let him know I want to order more of the bon-bons.

[A letter in a night blue envelope with a golden seal, showing the stylized A of Daeran and Salvadore Arendae. It’s written in two handwritings, both neat and entwined, one wide and spirited, the other tighter with sharp edges.] My dear Minovae,

a most joyous Valentine’s Day to you and Regill too!

This special little gift of yours is a pure delight and made my given task almost too easy. Salvadore tried a piece of the chocolate you sent and apparently enjoyed it so much that he started glowing. Literally! Assuming, he won’t attempt to continue working in this extraordinary state, I’ll have him all to myself for the rest of the day. I’ll abduct him to the pleasures I have planned for him a few hours early thanks to you! Paralictor, in the assumption that you will read this letter too but refused to take my valuable suggestions on how to make this day unforgettable for your wife, we sent you a book with instructions instead. Daerest Minovae,

your letter was a true delight. I’ll follow your cherished advice and give in to Daeran’s attempts to abduct me from my working place. I have a surprise for him as well but can’t tell you more, he’s looking over my shoulder right now. But after the chocolate incident, it will include feeding him the rest of those bon-bons you sent. In my next letter, you will get the full report of the effects of course. I hope you are just as successful in convincing your husband of a romantic, pleasurable time today. Maybe an order will work? Or the book we send as a gift and Daeran mentioned above. It doesn't include any instructions, don't worry, but exciting little stories. – Some of which even you may find intriguing and inspiring, Regill, should you read along. Of course, we expect a full report on how successful it went as well. I wish you both a most pleasurable day. Love, Salvadore And an even more pleasurable night. Love, Daeran

[A simple letter letter in plain envelope, with nary an embellishment save for the neat, even writing of someone used to writing much reports and a small stamp below it in turquoise ink - same as the wax seal. Both have the same pattern: that of long feather.]

"Sal and Dae,

A tandem letter seems oddly chaotic from the two of you but it was honestly hilarious to read. You have always managed to make me smile in the strangest ways.

The chocolates did what now? I really have to shake Woljif down for wherever the hell he got them and what they are actually intended for. Did you make you actually glow? And, everywhere? I'm morbidly curious what the rest of them do, hells.

As for the book, Regill picked it up and put it down just as fast - but don't you worry I made sure he appreciated it with all the fine oratory skills my old bard days gave me. A night by the fire with some whiskey, and me reading the most bawdry smut I've ever seen in my life. Where did you even come across this? Please don't tell me you wrote it yourself. It was so ridiculous in places that we reached a new level of red in the tips of Regill's ears from some of them, though he tried to play it off. Not sure which made him flushed more - the words I was saying or the ones I couldn't say because I was laughing so hard.

He won't say it, but he, at the very least, appreciated that the book gave us a nice night, though it was more from my enjoyment of it than the contents itself. Before you ask: no we didn't try anything from the book. Given I'm sure it was written by someone who hasn't had sex ever in their life, most if not all of it seemed impossible.

Not like it killed the mood entirely though, but that might have been the alcohol and the fits of laughter.

-Much love, Minovae"

[trustymikh]

finally put my oc down on paper

[yanaleese]

EL SALVADOR MENTION LETS GOO!!! Honestly was such a wonderful surprise reading about karma and seeing he’s one of my people!! Usually I never send stuff because I’m shy but I love your art and writing!! I can’t wait to see more of your stuff in the future <3 🌺

"EL SALVADOR, SIEMPRE FUERTE" - Karma

SALVADORIAN ANON LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

But seriously, thank you so much! I'm really glad that you're willing to support my art and my writing. I'm glad that you feel represented through Karma's character. Cheers to El Salvador!

Also if the art is uncomfortable for you in anyway, send me an ask as soon as possible! I just want to make sure I didn't offend you in any way...

[aoioozora]

Vampire and Soap's Friendship

These two share the same braincell. Put them together in a room and watch the decibels increase.

One is yapping in a Scottish accent and the other in a Scouse accent. Whatever they're saying is indecipherable to the point that it doesn't even sound like English, but they can understand each other perfectly.

Give them alcohol and put on some football and watch them be so loud that their neighbours call the cops on them. Don't even get me started on them playing multiplayer video games. More screaming. Poor Ghost carries ear plugs with him if he's ever around Soap and Vampire at the same time.

The pair are affectionately called "Hyenas"

Visual representation of Vampire, Ghost, and Soap below: