#thank you for the ask !!

[thescrapwitch]

I’m going to be super predictable. 😆 Maglor for the ask game?

Maglor Maglor Maglor Maglor!

How I feel about this character: He’s in my top three favourite elves to write. I love him a ridiculous amount. He is such a fun character to play around with as a writer. He’s my silly-putty: I can twist him up and squish him into all sorts of fics, be they crack (CRABLOR) or cozy horror (eldritch) or very very angsty. His voice is one of the ones I am most comfortable writing, and I love it. Its the being left behind by everyone you loved (dead or lost or you feel too unworthy to approach the ones that remain), its the sad-singer last one standing who keeps the memory of the past alive, its the sibling feels, its doom, its EVERYTHING. He is very water coded to me (and not just because of the whole singing sad songs by the sea shore), very calm and caring, very much able to hide his truer, messier emotions deep beneath his surface (performer until the very end), and when he is angered you will drown.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: I have been converted to DaeMags, and also have been shown the light in regards to Fingon/Maglor. But most of the time I tend to write Maglor not very interested in romance/sex. He’s devoted to his family and to his music, but its a lot more fun for him to tease his brothers in their relationships than it is for him to actually get involved in a serious one.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I see him as being very close with Maedhros, but I also love writing him as being close friends with Fingon. The three of them as a trio shine in my mind. Also, Maglor - Finrod - Amarie as a pre-Darkening musical friendship trio is also fun. Him and Daeron as musical rival-frenemies is fun, and of course, I ADORE writing him as bffs with Lindir.

My unpopular opinion about this character: I believe that Maglor had more of a role - the main role - in taking care of E+E, and that it was HIS idea to send them away. Beleriand was getting worse and worse, the Feanorians hanging on by a thread (after all, it was just Maglor and Maedhros by the very end). Maglor would have wanted the twins to live, not just survive, would have wanted them safe as doom tightened around the last two Sons of Feanor like a noose. So he did what any good adult would do: he sent them away to people who would care for them better than he could. Even if it broke his heart to do so.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: LET. HIM. SAIL. HOME!!!!!!!

[pigeonstab]

I want to rip my eyes out (I cant get past stage three of the arena in hollow knight)

Yeahhh I never actually did Colo three lol, my brother did tho! (Cause he's so cool and good at video games) It's really hard '^^

What charms are you using?

[coffinshaped]

If Sailor became a god, what do you think she will look like?

OKAY IT TOOK ME A WHILE BUT WITH THE HELP OF MY FRIEND @orderforbrian A CONCEPT FOR GOD SAILOR HAS BEEN MADE!

God of Navigation and Adventure!

God Sailor would have regained all her memories from before getting shipwrecked at Grove Cove! He would be the first God youre introduced to when you arrive at the Grove and the last God you see before you leave! She would make sure you have all the tools you need to navigate your trip safely and oversee your travel home!

If you wanna know what this gals deal is as a human check out my initial post on Sailor HERE!

Additional stuff under the cut including a little Sailor x Cobigail bc OF COURSE!!! You know I had to!!

First, here’s my gay ass Sailorgail sketch YAY THEYRE IMMORTAL AND IN LOVE AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER FOR ETERNITY WEEEEEE!!!

More on God Sailor:

- Entry point to his domain is on his Boat, S.S. Harley, upon entering you’ll hear a distant foghorn and the cawing of seagulls overhead

- God Sailors “voice” is just a mixture of wave sounds unless she’s excited, then she makes little boat bell noises or when mad makes a gnarly foghorn sound

- She’s VERY tall and I mean HUGE!!! But he’s a good distance away from the boat where you’re standing so she looks deceptively small

- He will provide navigational items that you can actually take with you to assist your travel around the Grove ( He fishes them out of the water for you! Sailors never been super organized, it’s around here somewhere! Hopefully she doesn’t accidentally pull up a shark or something on accident….)

- She encourages you to get a little lost! Wander! Take your time! And enjoy your trip! (Hes purposely vague about directions and specific instructions)

- He’ll give you guidance on which Gods to visit and what sights there are to see (She gets EXTRA chatty if you happen to mention anything about her wifey Cobigail, she’s always the first God she recommends you to see 💕)

- Shes got a few nautical tattoos that have a mind of their own, they move and change all over her body and all of them tell a story! And of course Hes got a few of his lovely gal Cobi (she can communicate to him through those tats hehe)

- His pipe is a giant smoke stack from a ship! If she huffs and puffs on that pipe hard enough it’ll create a great fog, no worries though! Her eyes can light right up and suddenly she’s the Groves very own lighthouse, guiding any nearby sailors safely

Thanks again to my friend Bri for helping me brainstorm stuff! I had fun doing this, idk if I’ll make it a canon event for Sailors story but it’s definitely a cool idea! I’ll probably draw more of this in the future :3c

[pinetreespants]

Hey, been enjoying your take on the lamb and I was wondering if there's a masterpost on your lamb's lore (and why they sign? I think its a really awesome take)

dreams of the past...

Ah! I'm so happy you're enjoying my take on the lamb ahhh unfortunately i dont have a master post just yet... lol im still kinda getting into the groove of having my own au and what not :)c

[justmeinadaze]

Sexy (Eddie X Plus Size Reader)

Someone sent me a message with a personal ask about a plus size reader who's a bit insecure about her body with a praise kink with Eddie so I bare you this. Remember, you are beautiful inside and out <3.

Warnings: Mentions of insecurities with being a plus size girlie; Eddie is comforting as always <3

Word Count: 902

“Fuck, baby, that feels so good.”, Eddie exhales as he licks his lips and his palms squeeze into your meaty hips as you roll them against him, pushing his cock deeper inside of you. “B-Bounce, sweetheart. I want to see you dripping all over my dick.”

At his words, your rhythm gradually came to a stop causing his eyes to snap open as he pushed up onto his elbows. 

“What…what’s wrong, babe? Everything…ok?”

“Yeah, um, can we…can you be on top?”

Blinking up at you, your boyfriend suddenly noticed that your eyes weren’t filled with lust anymore but pain. 

“Yeah, baby, sure. Does it hurt? Do we need to take a break or—”

Your lips cut off him off as you cup his face in your hands. You had been dating Eddie Munson for a few months and you loved everything about him. While in school he liked to come off as “mean and scary” but with his friends or alone with you, he had the sweetest heart you had ever seen. 

While the other kids made you insecure, he made you feel beautiful. The first time you were intimate with him, he took control which is honestly the way you preferred it and he never seemed inconvenienced by your body in any way. 

It always lingered in your mind through. 

When he would rest his head on your chest and wasn’t able to wrap his arms all the way around your stomach like you could with him. When his lips would travel along your flab you wished you could have abs like he did. When people would snicker as he held your hand, a part of you felt like it was your fault and you should let him go to be with someone who visually was more appealing. 

But you loved him so much…

Which is why when he flipped you both over till you were on top of him you didn’t protest. You wanted to make him feel as good as he made you feel but you struggled to get out of your head to enjoy it yourself. 

“No, Eddie. I just…”

Wrapping his arms around you to hold you in place, he shifts his body till he was sitting up and leaning against the headboard so he could give you his full attention. 

“Talk to me, princess. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I just…I feel like…when I’m on top or I bounce…I look gross.”

The metalhead’s eyes widened as if you had said the most shocking thing he had ever heard.

“But you don’t. You’re extremely gorgeous, Y/N.”

“Pfft, thanks.”, you giggle. “But from this angle you can see my double chins and then my stomach and boobs are like…jiggling and I just…”

“You say these things like they’re bad.” 

Eddie smiles when your eyes playfully narrow but when you extend your arm to lightly punch his chest he grabs your wrist and pulls you forward till your nose is hovering just above his. 

“Seriously though. Y/N, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve seen in my entire life. The first time I saw you I thought one of my campaign princesses came to life. These things here?” He pauses as he gently pinches your thighs, tummy, and cheeks. “They make you, you.”

Eddie smirks when your forehead falls on his and your arms circle around his shoulders. 

“You like that, baby? You like it when I compliment you?”, he murmurs against your lips as your hips start to roll against him again. “Because it true. I never say anything I don’t mean. Fuck, my good girl.”

“Eddie.”

“Does my beautiful girl like to be praised? Of course she does. Focus on me, sweetheart. L-Let me focus on your body and how sexy it is when you ride my dick.”

Placing your hands below his ears, you cling to him as you begin to utilize your knees to bounce up and down on his lap, mewling as his thick cock stretched and hit every button inside of you. 

“That’s my good girl. Shit, just like that. Your little pussy takes me s-so well.”

“Fuck, Eddie.”

“That’s…that’s it, pretty girl. I love the way my name sounds coming out of those…sexy lips. I love that your mine.”

“Oh my god. Say it again.”

Your boyfriend breathily laughs as his palms roam your skin. 

“Your beautiful face, these perfect tits, your tummy, t-these eatable thighs, and this gorgeous ass…”, he recites as he smacks your behind. “…are mine. You are mine, Y/N.”

Feeling your body begin to tremble, he immediately cups your cheeks in his hands. 

“Open your eyes, baby. I want you to look at me as you cum.”

“Fuck.”

Rolling your waist, your gaze never leaves his as you cling to one of his wrists and your jaw falls open as you come undone. 

“Good, good girl. That’s my girl.”, Eddie chants as his grip on you tightens and spills into the condom. “Fuck, that was amazing. I love you, sweetheart.”

You smile weakly as you fall against his chest and he gently pets your head, playing with your hair. 

“I love you, baby. I’m sorry for being…me.”

“Hey, you never have to apologize for that. It wasn’t just a heat of the moment thing, Y/N. I meant what I said. I love you and your body. You and this sexy ass are safe with me.”

############

Eddie Asks/ Donate to Me

[raphaerolo]

Heard you wanted doodle requests! Can we get a sad little creature Cody to go with your recent sad little creature Obi-Wan please? 😆

@notitlesapply thank you for the request! Sad creature Cody. He's trying so hard but he's just So. Eepy.

[thesightstoshowyou]

the ghoul catches a glimpse of you from behind bathing?🫣

he can’t remember the last time he’s seen the silhouette of a woman like you, unblemished and perfect. had to be at least a hundred years? the curve of your ass, where your waist dips in…you’d feel silkier than butter under his fingers

Deliberate

It was an honest mistake.

Not much about the Ghoul is honest these days, so it seems necessary to point out integrity when it comes.

Fresh water, enough to drink, let alone enough to bathe in is a luxury in the Wasteland. So, when the two of you stumbled across a functioning water pump, you wasted no time partaking in the miracle. Being the gentleman he is, he allowed you first dibs and the gratitude in your eyes had almost stirred something in his chest.

He waited for his turn. And waited. The Ghoul had no doubt you’d had enough time to finish a decent shower and dress, so what the hell was keeping you?

After far too much time had passed, he’d come to check on you (give you shit about lingering in one place for too long). Some smart ass remark poised on the tip of his tongue, he rounded the corner only to stop so fast his boots skid.

You face away from him, oblivious to the way his throat has gone drier than the desert air. Your bare skin is damp, little droplets glistening as they trickle over your curves. His eyes trace the perfectly smooth expanse of your back, the beautiful dip of your waist, the tantalizing rise of your ass, and the gorgeous stretch of your legs.

He should leave, should turn on his heel and scurry away, tail tucked, belly on fire, but he can’t tear his gaze away. Beauty—like clean water—is a scarcity in this place. It ought to be admired.

You must feel his eyes on you because you turn your head to peer over your shoulder. He expects you to scream or curse or cover yourself. He doesn’t expect the small smile that pulls at the corner of your mouth.

“Yes?” you question, feigning innocence. In his chest, his heart pounds.

You’d planned this. This “accidental” discovery was intentional.

Deliberate.

The Ghoul’s chin dips, the brim of his hat throwing a shadow over whiskey-colored eyes.

The water on your lips is the freshest he’s tasted in years.

[the-broken-pen]

Hey hey

Could you perhaps write a snippet where the building hero is in, gets bombed? Its bombed as an assassination attempt to get them, however the people in that building die and hero, succumbed to their injuries couldn't save everyone of them. At last they watched the last ambulance left without them, even as they called for help

Villians villa is just few kilometres away

Thankfu hero's legs aren't broken

They begin walking

The problem? Vil is way to composed and prim and perfect to let all of hero's blood get on their expensive carpets and fabrics. They could even be mad at the hero for reddening their porch if they hero stood their asking for bandages. What now? And the fight the two had yesterday that ended with "never see me again" and "don't ever talk to me"s.....vil was stopping hero from attending the event the building....

Will vil help them? They can just ask for bandages and leave.

What hero doesn't know: vil would literally destroy the world for hero, and there's no way in hell are they leaving hero on their doorstep.

(Anon you were cooking with this ask, thank you!)

The hero realized the building was going to explode a split second before it did, which wasn’t enough time to do anything other than brace.

They tensed, and there was a horrible screeching of metal and brick, followed by a deafening silence that covered them more completely than the rubble did.

The hero coughed once, weakly, pain rocketing through their chest, and shoved a piece of concrete off themself.

From somewhere else in the building, a soft, terrified wail began, broken around desperate sobs.

The hero coughed again, hand rising to their ribs. They didn’t have the energy to be surprised when their fingers came back coated in blood and dust. They grimaced at it, struggling to their feet–

And oh, god. That hurt.

The hero had a surgery once, the kind that resulted in bandages and a care regime and a set of stitches, and when they had woken up in the recovery unit, it had felt sort of like this. A moment of loopy half-awareness, and then a pain that had knocked the breath out of them, hands clenching into the sheets as a nurse tried to figure out if they needed more medication. 

This was worse. Their vision swam, and they blinked it back with a hiss.

Because someone, somewhere in the wreckage, was crying. And if one person was crying, it meant there was someone who survived. Which meant it was likely there were other survivors–ones too hurt to make any noise, ones knocked unconscious, ones still too shocked to do anything other than lay there–and it was the hero’s job to find them.

It took them far too long to locate the source of the crying. Longer to dig them out, vision going white as the person slammed into the hero’s chest in some facsimile of a terrified hug.

“You’re okay,” they managed, voice like gravel. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you out, and you’re going to be just fine. Were you with anyone?”

And then again, and again, and again.

The hero panted, hands on their knees as their body fought them in an attempt to just collapse onto the concrete below. They just–they just needed a minute. Just one, maybe, and then they could–

This time, the hero wasn’t even aware of it before it happened.

The remains of the building shook, then disintegrated into itself in a plume of dust and rock. The hero shielded their eyes with one hand, blinking against the onslaught.

What little air they had managed to get stuttered out of their lungs in something close to a sob. They had done this enough times to know there wasn’t anyone in that building left alive. 

They sagged down against the nearest thing–more rubble, maybe? They didn’t know–and this time when they rested a hand on their side, there was a considerably larger amount of blood.

“That’s…not great,” they said, and their fingers blurred in front of them slightly. There was an ambulance right there. Just a couple feet away. They had already helped most of the survivors, so maybe it would be okay for the hero to–

A paramedic rounded the back of the ambulance, and the hero lifted a hand, reaching–

“Please, wait, I think–I think,” it hurt coming out of their mouth, “help. Please I need–” they trailed off as the paramedic took the step up into the ambulance.

And closed the door behind them.

The hero wasn’t even that surprised when the ambulance began to drive away.

“Help,” they finished weakly, then sucked a breath in through their nose.

They were supposed to be good at this kind of thing. Surviving, no, thriving in catastrophe. A pillar of light. The one with the plan. 

The kind of being that didn’t beg for help on the ground.

The hero wasn’t entirely sure how they managed to get themselves back to standing. It was as easy as that–one moment they were on the ground, gravel embedded in their knees, and the next they were up and shaking but they were up.

“If I stay here, I’ll die,” they murmured. They had hoped maybe the threat would keep their legs from buckling again. It didn’t.

They weren’t near any place that could be trusted. There wasn’t a safe clinic for heroes on this side of the city, and even if there was, the hero wouldn’t trust them. Couldn’t afford to.

But as for near…the hero swallowed the nausea as it rose in their throat. There was one place they could go. One person they could go to.

Four miles. They could do four. There was no other option.

Where the hero had had some blurry recollection, or at least, a good guess of how they got to standing, they had absolutely no clue how they made it onto the villain’s porch. They managed a blink, retching slightly as they stared at the villain’s wavering door, then had to freeze just to bite down the pain that had come from the gagging.

They tried to knock and ended up collapsing against the villain’s door, knees giving out entirely as their fingers scrabbled for purchase and left behind smeared bloody marks on the wood.

They weren’t entirely sure how that happened either, or how long it took the villain to answer the door. Just that it hurt—so, so much, it hurt so–and that they managed to shove themself back into some semblance of standing right before the villain pulled the door open.

The villain’s face did a sort of spasming thing as soon as they saw the hero, jaw dropping slightly in what the hero could only really read as shock.

There was a very considerable amount of blood on the door. They were cold.

“I–” the hero tried, but they weren’t really sure where they had been going with that sentence, and after yesterday and the screaming and the fight the villain probably didn’t want to see them at all, didn’t want to ever see their face again, so–their mind blanked. “I got blood on your door.”

They tried to gesture towards it, but that hurt, so their hand simply twitched slightly from where it hung by their side.

They glanced down at their feet, because they didn’t want to see what the villain’s face was doing, especially if what it was doing was anything resembling anger.

“Oh.” There was blood at the hero’s feet. “And on your porch, too, I guess.”

They looked up at the villain, but they were still staring at them, brow furrowed, hand clenching on the doorframe.

“I’m sorry.”

There was a very faint quiver of tears when they said it, and the hero knew better than to hope the villain didn’t catch it. 

Were they saying sorry for the porch or the door or yesterday–

“Holy shit,” the villain finally breathed, and it sounded like it had been punched out of them. The hero froze, panic rising in their chest.

“I’m sorry,” the hero blurted out, stammering. “I’m–I’m so sorry, I’ll go, just–could I maybe have some bandages? Just–just one, maybe, please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they said uselessly, head swimming. They couldn’t even remember what they were doing here. The villain was perfect in every sense of the word, stoic and proper and collected in a way the hero would never be; a marble statue brought to life. The idea of them letting the hero–the personification of a train wreck in motion–in to bleed all over the villain’s soft carpet and nice shoes and cause irreparable damage to their very expensive house was almost laughable. 

If they had had the breath to laugh.

More of the hero’s blood dripped onto the slats of the porch, and they stepped back. “I’m sorry–”

The villain reached for them, and the hero flinched, taking it for the dismissal it was–

The hero blinked, and it stuck for a moment too long as the world tilted, and when they pried their eyes open again the villain was staring at them with something the hero was too out of it with pain and possibly delirium to identify. Their gaze drifted back to the blood smeared on the door, and the villain’s grip tightened on the hero’s bicep–when had they grabbed the hero’s bicep?–until the hero’s gaze returned to theirs.

The villain said something, but there was a roaring that had started up in the hero’s ears. They seemed to take the uncomprehending blink the hero gave them in return for an answer anyways, and guided them down until they were both sitting on the cool wood. A tug, and the hero was resting against their own propped up knees, villain’s hand still firm on their arm.

“How much blood did you lose?”

It was like screaming underwater, the hero reasoned. Or through a mirror. But they heard it nonetheless, and that was their villain, and even in hatred and war they would always answer them.

“Was ‘supposed to be counting?” If they had any more energy–or maybe slightly more blood–in their body, the slur to their own words would have been concerning.

The villain’s lips pursed into a thin line, and the hero felt them begin to run an assessing hand over their injuries, cataloguing them, brow furrowing further with every second.

“M’sorry,” they managed, tongue thick. The villain didn’t pause.

“For what?”

“Bleeding on your door,” they managed. The villain stopped them from raising their head from their knees. “And your–porch.”

“I don’t give a shit about either of those things,” the villain said, simply, easily. Like it was nothing. Like they didn’t feel the weight of it as they threw it into the air.

The villain sat back on their heels, clearly having learned what they wanted from the hero’s injuries.

When the hero didn’t immediately look at them, the villain grabbed their chin, gently turning it until the hero faced them.

“How far did you walk,” they said slowly, and the hero had never been more grateful for anything in their life.

“Four miles,” the hero said, and they couldn’t hear their own voice above the roaring, but the villain obviously could from the way their eyes darkened.

The hero wanted no part in making the villain angry again–I never want to see you again, do you hear me? If you ever try to talk to me again I will kill the both of us, I promise you that–, but when they attempted to push themselves up to leave, the only thing they managed was a piteous whine and a stab of pain so intense they forgot to breathe.

“Idiot,” the villain hissed. But oddly, the hero didn’t sense any anger coming from the villain.

They blinked–too long, again–and found themselves in the villain’s arms as they walked through the house. Their head lolled back onto the villain’s shoulder, and the villain glanced down as if–to make sure the hero was okay. That they were conscious, and breathing.

Oh.

Oh.

The villain wasn’t angry.

They were afraid. For the hero.

Which didn’t make any sense, because–

I never want to see you again–

“You’re mad at me,” the hero reasoned, and it came out half strangled and petulant. The villain looked down at them, and the hero caught the tiniest flinch in their jaw.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s not what you said yesterday,” the hero whispered, and the villain flinched.

“I wanted to stop this from happening.” The villain settled them onto a bathroom counter, lights flickering on as the hero leaned back against the mirror. Blood began to dry, sticky, between their fingers.

The hero’s mouth went dry, and it caught in their throat when they tried to swallow it.

“You could have just left me there.” Their voice only shook a little bit, but the villain’s head still snapped up from where they had been digging through a drawer.

“What?”

“On the porch,” the hero clarified, clearing their throat. The lump didn’t go away, and they had begun shaking at some point, and they couldn’t stop. “If you didn’t want to deal with me you could have just left me there–”

The villain’s face had darkened into something the hero almost didn’t recognize. 

“I would burn the world for you, and you think I would leave you to die on my porch?”

“You said you didn’t want this to happen.”

“No, that’s not–” the villain rubbed a hand over their brow, and the hero winced at the blood it left behind. “No. No, that’s not what I meant. I was trying to keep you from going to that stupid event and getting hurt. I knew it was going to blow.”

“I would have gone anyway.”

The villain stilled. “I thought maybe if you never wanted to see me again, and you knew I was there…”

“I would,” the hero repeated. “Have gone anyway.”

The hero watched as the villain’s face rippled through a dozen emotions, settling onto something unidentifiable.

“Why?”

“Because you were there,” the hero said easily, shrugging one shoulder. Because when it came to the villain, it really was that easy. They could scream, and shout, and hold a knife to the hero’s throat, and the hero would still follow them into hell. That was their villain.

The villain looked like the hero had stabbed them, face draining of color. Their fingers went white around the edge of the counter, as if it was the only thing keeping them upright.

“What,” the villain’s voice was hoarse.

“I went because I was hoping you would be there,” the hero said honestly

“Stop,” the villain raised a hand between them, a shield, voice breaking. They sucked in a breath, then another, like they were trying to keep themself from breaking down onto the tile.

“You would have gone to the event no matter what, just to see me,” the villain said slowly, and the hero nodded

“Yes.”

“Even though I screamed at you?”

“Yes.”

“And told you I hated you.”

“Villain, please–”

“Now you know,” the villain interrupted, voice incredibly soft. “Why I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero forgot to breathe for a moment, tongue going numb in their mouth. The villain couldn’t mean–

They blinked for a moment too long, and then the villain was standing between the hero’s knees, hand on their chest.

“You love me,” the hero said a moment later.

“Ruinously,” the villain agreed.

“So you–”

“I was trying to save your life,” the villain’s hands were gentle as they began to patch up the hero’s side. “And now I’m saving your life in a new and unanticipated way. But there is nothing you could ever do to stop me from saving your life.”

The hero’s heart clenched. 

“Really?”

The villain caught their chin, eyes boring into the hero’s. They brushed a piece of hair off the side of the hero’s face.

“Really.”

The hero sighed, and the villain caught them as they slumped.

“I thought you hated me,” the hero said, and they hated how raw they sounded. The villain made a choked little noise.

“I’m so sorry.”

The hero sniffed.

“Don’t do it again.”

The villain simply hummed, and smoothed the ends of a bandage down against the hero’s abdomen. The hero could feel their hands shaking.

You scared me.

A second later, their hands settled on either side of the hero’s head, and the villain rested their face into the hero’s hair. They pressed a kiss to the hero’s temple, tension easing from their shoulders.

I’m sorry.

The hero clutched the front of the villain’s shirt between their hands, drawing them closer. The villain went willingly, loose limbed with affection and the rapid draining of terror from their system.

“I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero had never believed anyone more.

[gladyzzia]

I would like to say thank you for Soft Kakuhida.

Gross, I would never.

[meanbossart]

How did your DU drow react when he got told he had to kill his spouse? and then when he went to wake up Astarion and get tied up? I think I just wanna know how your DU drow mentally/emotionally is doing during and after that part, and when talking to Astarion afterward, I'm a sucker for hearing about those deep kinds of moments (hopefully that makes sense?) Also, how did your DU react when you met Kressa Bonedaughter and learned all about what was done to him (again, I know none of the companions really comment on literally something horrible being told such a shame, honestly) but how would you say or think that Astarion and Shadowheart might have reacted hearing that info? Again, thank you for all your art and for answering these questions! PS: (I really don't care if your answer is super long; I WILL EAT IT UP)

Sooo for the first question, I wanna preface by saying that I personally don't think their relationship was that in depth yet, at that point. Yes, DU drow enjoyed Astarion's company and relied on him in a similar way which he relied on Shadowheart. And also yes, Astarion saw DU drow as the first person who ever took him and his agency seriously - but I think feelings were still in their infancy. DU drow's mind was a mess through and through; he drank constantly to keep his urge at bay, he kept his distance from everyone most of the time, and when he did seek out comfort in either Shadowheart or Astarion (the non-sexual kind, they didn't really fuck at all), it was a kind of primal instinct and desperate longing for companionship - if you asked him if he was in love with anyone, however, he would have said no.

Similarly, while I think Astarion's act 2 confession is sincere, I also think that he's being sincere when he says that he doesn't know what you are yet. You're not really a lover, but you aren't a victim, either; what you are is a person who he would rather not have to murder eventually, and as someone who has had their empathy squeezed out throughout the course of two centuries, that's meaningful enough. He may fantasize about the best case scenario for you two - but he has no expectations that whatever this is will last. But it is nice, for the time being.

So the "murder your darling" scene, rather than a proof of love and trust, is to me the turning point where:

A) DU drow has to come to terms with the fact that he doesn't have as much control over the Urge as he thought, and B) When Astarion snaps out of his care-free, just-go-with-the-flow nature around his plan and this relationship. They both realize they bit off more than they could chew and are now caught in each other's crossfire.

Which is to say that I don't read Astarion's words of comfort to him as entirely honest - specially when you compare it to certain dialogue deliveries later in the game. I think he's still, to a degree, telling you what you need to hear so that you hold out for just a bit longer and kill Cazador. You probably can't be together forever as he idly fantasized about once or twice, when he let his mind wander - but god damn it, he needs to at least be free, and it seems like you have bloodlust to spare to make that happen.

Meanwhile, DU drow finally comes to confront the fact that he is not in control. Doesn't matter how hard he tries or how much he drinks, the urge will do to him as it will, and when it wishes. It stops being fun and it gets scary, from that moment on.

But here's who did stop it: Astarion. Where alcohol fell short and his willpower failed, Astarion stepped in.

So, more interesting than the scene itself to me, is how from that point on DU drow would have no choice but put his trust entirely on the vampire to control him. He ties him up, he keeps an eye on him, he has full spoken-word permission to kill him if necessary - he is forced to be as vulnerable at humanly possible under his hand, every night. Regardless of whether or not DU drow realizes that Astarion is doing it for his own reasons, he doesnt care, because Astarion has now become his rock and his bondage - hell, if Astarion does have a reason to keep him alive that's all the better; someone else might just slit DU drow's throat and be done with the concern altogether.

And so, it's only from that point on that DU drow truly starts to see Astarion as an equal, and even a partner. He's thinking that, if his whole life has to be like this, at least he has someone who can handle it.

Astarion, meanwhile, I believe only comes to truly consider (and wish for) DU drow's freedom after he's free from Cazador - and after he bestows that freedom upon his siblings and the other spawn. That's when he finally understands the length of DU drow's devotion to him and the value of freewill as a concept- and how he wants it for both of them, instead of being content with his own.

Not to mention... I think in Astarion's mind he was 100% not going to survive Cazador LOL so when he succeeds he's like "oh shit I guess anything is fucking possible huh. Yeah fuck it lets go fight your dad, also I've decided I want you for realsies, now."

Anyways, can you believe I thought this was gonna be a short ask. Here have a doodle I made while thinking about all this bullshit:

As for Kressa, I got an ask about that before but I can't find it now LOL to summarize; he was pissed, angered, and in a far more personal level embarrassed to have had his dirty laundry aired (AKA, victimized) in that way in front of the others - but this isn't something he would have expressed outwardly, and I think both Shadowheart and Astarion would have known better than to inquire him about it. It's not really something he would have sought out comfort for in anyone, so, I think the subject died as soon as Kressa did. In this case, their lack of commentary was completely appropriate - If they had reached out in any way (which would have been, in my opinion, completely out of character) DU drow would have shut them out with a quickness.

[ink-n-shadow]

I’m wondering what did angel do to become fallen??

amazing wonderful stunning question, anon

so angel isn't actually fallen! angel is still very much an angel, but they're broken.

angel was roaming the human realms one morning (as they often did) and ended up hurting one of their wings, rendering them unable to fly and therefore unable to go back up to heaven with the rest of the angels.

demon!ghost, on the other hand, is very much fallen—but angel doesn't know how or why ghost ended up fallen in the first place. it seems like a sore subject to him, something that makes him tense up and become snippy anytime angel even attempts to bring it up for ask.

maybe i'll tell you guys what happened to poor demon!ghost sometime soon...

link to all my works in the demon!ghost au can be found here

[twisted-bunkbot772]

Shrimpo with a flame thrower

he would be unstoppable

[omegaverse-anthropologist]

what's your favorite omegaverse headcanon you've gotten from someone else? what's your favorite omegaverse headcanon you've come up with?

i don’t remember where i got it from, but i remember seeing someone say that the reason alphas are seen as more aggressive is because they tend to have a strong ‘protect’ drive without anything to direct it to. omegas, on the other hand, have a strong ‘protect nest’ drive, so their aggression becomes specific and pointed. society treats it as well-warranted when an omega attacks someone for endangering their nest (or home). alphas tend to attach strongly to their mates/pups/pack, and they tend to mellow out with something to focus their strong ‘protect’ drive on.

i’m not sure about my favorite omegaverse headcanon tbh. i feel like a lot of what i post on here is pretty standard stuff, just in more detail or with bullshit human anthropology attached lol. i guess i really like the idea of early humans differing: early betas having enlarged scent glands and stronger scents so that they could function as scouts for nomadic packs; and omegas having larger VNOs (the organ that detects scent) compared to betas and alphas, so that they could both pick up beta scents and locate pups more easily. i think betas have the smallest VNOs but the most densely packed scent glands.

[lambouillet]

Will Lambs of God be a mod or a fan game?

Short answer It's a little of both! A mod most likely first than maybe even a fan game quite QUITE later. The latter is quite a tall order for just one singular samaritan and far beyond my own hubris if I can admit.

Long eerrrr answer, the roadmap for this as of right now is a bit vague and uncertain, theres only so much I can do as just an artist but if the modding scene gets more advanced or I either figure out programming or get a programmer along; I plan to start it out simple as just a cosmetic mod and then branch out until I'm well versed enough to continue on to more ambitious, complex projects. I'm not really rushing it! Ive had them for close to a year before they even announced goat and the idea started out as a hypothetical cosmetics mod called Sins of the father where they would've just been special skins you can obtain once you have the bishops, which you'll probably see if it ever starts becoming something, or quite anything, really.

I've always had a penchant for making fan concepts for games, I've done this for every game I ever had a slight interest in but to be straight with you this is the first time I ever got one to a stage beyond just the art program. So who knows! Only time will tell.

[justmeinadaze]

"The Haunting" by Set It Off...I heard this song and immediately thought it was Toxic Eddie coded 🥴🫠 can I request a little blurb based off it?! You're amazing and I am OBSSESED with your writing

Warnings: Toxic/Jealous Eddie🫠, mentions of following her

Sorry this took SO long. Enjoy!

Word Count: 654

Eddie chuckles as he continues to thrust his fingers slowly into your cunt in front of your full-length mirror on your bedroom floor. His legs over yours kept them open wide allowing you to be on full display as he nibbled your earlobe, constantly whispering things that had your naked body shuddering against his fully clothed form. 

“You thought you’d get away with going on a date with some muscle-bound jock? Thought I wouldn’t find out because you two went to a fucking football game?”

His fingers pushed deeper into you causing you to push against his chest with your back but his other arm across your stomach kept you in place.

“Thought I wouldn’t follow Miss Popularity and sit a couple rows above her to take note of every transgression she makes?”

“E-Eddie…please…”

“Thought I wouldn’t notice him place his hand on your thigh and you not pull away.”, he grumbles darkly as his own palm comes down to smack your inner thigh roughly. “That I wouldn’t follow you in the parking lot back to your car where you giggled at his stupid fucking jokes like a fucking dumb little schoolgirl!”

“I-I-I’m sorry.”

“But my absolute favorite part was watching him tilt down and put his sloppy, beer ridden lips on MY girl.”

“I’m not YOURS!”, you shout as you try to elbow him in his chest but he easily wrestles your arms back down to your sides as he clings to you tighter. “I’ll—mmph—never belong to you!”

Aggressively, he grips your jaw and forces your face forward as his fingers begin to move at a much faster pace overwhelming you as you moan at the feeling. 

“Is that why you fucking call me at 2am to come fuck you when you’re lonely? Or how about on the weekend when your parents leave you alone to go fuck their other partners. Huh, little girl?! I’ve loved you since the moment I listened to you speak in class. You obviously care about me to so why the fuck are you making this so complicated!?”

Your eyes began to flutter closed as the coil began to wind tighter and tighter but him firmly pinching your cheeks had you opening them again. 

“Don’t you dare close those eyes. I want you to see what I fucking do for you…why you beg for my cock all the time.” As he pumped his fingers at a blistering pace, your jaw went slack as he pressed his nose to the side of your face and began to whisper. “No one will ever make you feel this good. No one can touch you or treat you as well as I have, Y/N. No one will love you like I do and always fucking will. You’re mine. Say it.”

“Fuck—I’m…I’m…”

“Say it, sweetheart.”

“I’m yours.”

“Again.”

“Ahhh! I’m yours, Eddie.”

“That’s right. Cum on my fingers, pretty girl. That’s it. Good girl.”, he coos as you cling to his arm as your orgasm overwhelms you. While you try to catch your breath, his lips trail down to your neck. “I’m going to make sure you never forget that again, Y/N.”

Jumping up from the floor, Eddie easily lifts you like a ragdoll and tosses you onto your bed. You watch with lust blown eyes as he reaches for your phone and throws it beside you before unbuckling his belt to shimmy out of his jeans. 

“What do want me to—”

“Call him. Mr. Jock.”, he replies all to casually as he spits into his hand and strokes his cock a few times before gradually guiding himself into you. 

“Oh f-fuck. C-Can I call t-tomorrow?”

The metalhead laughs through his teeth as he places his palms on either side of your head and slowly thrusts his hips. 

“Aw, baby. I obviously can’t trust you. No…you’ll call him now and don’t worry. I can tell you what to say.”

##############

Donate to me/ Eddie Asks

[raphaerolo]

since you asked for requests: a modern day Satine with a fencing sword and angry expression so she can be Stabby Satine

I was entranced by the idea of Stabby Satine so I have slightly more than a doodle ahaaa

Shes pretty and im normal about her o.o