#this isn’t a redesign or anything

[high-guardian-herbs]

You ever wonder why it’s called flowering thorn?

[korkietism]

Tokoyamis childhood friends! Also, his band aside from his band with class 1A. The band is called Skull Bowl Full of Soup. It’s grunge with alternative, rock, and metal in it. Usually very emo shit.

Yuki is the lead singer and also Tokoyamis longest friend. They were paired up in kindergarten because they both picked at their skin a lot- to the point it was a problem. Anxious kids being forced to be friends type thing. It worked out though.

I’ll make an infodump post about SBFS soon. Though generally, a bunch of misfit kids that befriended each other in middle school.

[kiwisandpearls]

honestly just because of the drama lavendertowne’s going through with the hazbin hotel fandom, I’m honestly contemplating making my own hazbin hotel redesigns

[saffronscales]

teehee alt smuby design upon ye

[vampstel]

A part of me wants to make art videos about Royale High because I still love the game despite how shit it is but a part of me really wants to stay away from that godforsaken community

[pallases]

okay guys i have calculated it all out and even if i get a big fat zero on this race i will still earn a b in the class assuming i get 100% on the other remaining three assignments two of which are a given for 100% and the last of which is like. even if we get a 75% on it (which i do not really see happening) i can still scrape by w a b-

[prettieinpink]

REBRANDING YOURSELF

COLLAB WITH THE HOTTIE????!!!!!!! @honeytonedhottie. LMAO NOT US PLANNING THIS IN LIKE DEC THEN RELEASING IN APRIL. I luv you so much ur my fav moot. moots who collab together, stay together. Check out her post on her page too, as usual, she makes the best points so y'all better listen.

Rebranding is a process in which you redefine who you are and how others perceive you. Each journey of rebranding yourself is personal and individual. When you rebrand yourself, you further align yourself with your higher you. This post is a guide to getting started on your journey!

UNDERSTAND YOUR CURRENT SELF.

So, take a step back and think about who you are as an individual right now. What are your values and beliefs? Does your external self reflect your inner self? Are you comfortable in your current environment?

These questions and more will help to see which aspects of your life you may need to redefine. See if there’s anything that doesn’t align with your higher self. 

After that, pick those aspects that need to be redefined. Why do you want to change this? How has this been impacting you internally/externally? Does this aspect stem from your environment or yourself? See why this aspect needs to be improved. 

DESIGNING YOUR BRAND

This is more of a fun step! So, using your aspects design how you want that specific thing to look and feel like. Avoid being vague or non-specific. Try to put in as much detail as you can for each aspect. 

If you’d prefer, you don’t have to use ‘aspects’ and instead use your life generally. This is your redesign, so do whatever is more comfortable and achievable for you.

ASPECTS

Health

Social life

Career

Hobbies

Family

Finance

Spirituality

Personal development (mindset, goals, improvement)

Self care

Culture

Well-being

Things to include

Achievable goals

How your environment looks like

How your daily life like

How you see yourself

What do you feel after

Why this is alignment within yourself? 

You can do this any way you want. The one I would recommend for redesigning your life would be a vision board, preferably a physical one. If you don’t want to do that, there are still a lot of options such as writing it down into a pretty poster, creating a playlist that will reflect your brand, creating a pretty list, or having sticky notes around your room as reminders. 

Be creative and detailed with this. You should spend at least an hour if not more trying to redesign your life/aspects.

CREATING GOALS

Goals are so important, especially when we are moving in a different direction than we were before. As we’ve got the current status of who we are and what we want to be, creating goals should be easy. 

Make your goals visible. Put a sticky note on your mirrors, put it as your laptop background, put a reminder on your phone, listen to a playlist that motivates you of your goals or anything else that will constantly remind you of your goals. 

Other than that, remember that goals have to be achievable, mindful, and flexible.

ESTABLISHING HABITS

Habits are so important to rebrand yourself. Habits make up your identity. The way you act, speak, and do daily, can subconsciously influence you to be someone who isn’t in alignment with your higher self.

 As much as it’s important to establish new habits that align with you, you have to root out the habits that are pushing you off track from achieving your goals. 

The good thing is that you can do both at the same time. Replace those old habits, with brand new ones. For example, when you open your phone first thing in the morning instead of opening up TikTok, get YouTube opened and start a 5-minute meditation to start your day.

However, just because a habit is beneficial for you, it doesn’t mean it is in alignment for you. For many people, they prefer to read books as a productive alternative for leisure, however, you may not be able to read a book and focus. In that case, you may want to watch an educational video instead. You’re still getting the benefits, but just in a different way. 

STEP FIVE: IMPLEMENTING YOUR BRAND DAILY

Think about all the little details of how this person would act, from morning until night. Embody their actions, words, aura, and vibes. This is when having a visual of your goals is good, so you can see what you need to do.

This includes no longer indulging in things your higher self wouldn’t do. Regardless of how much comfort, entertainment, or dopamine something gives you, you have to let it go if it is destroying your mind. 

I way I recommend implementing your brand daily by creating a daily routine that focuses on a different goal each day of the week. E.g:

Monday - Practicing being mindful (meditation, journaling, connecting with your religion)

Tuesday - Fitness (pilates, weightlifting, hot girl walks)

Wednesday - Socialising (going out to meet new people/connecting with old friends)

Thursday - Productivity (Schoolwork, studying, business, workplace tasks)

Friday - Self-care (taking a slow day however you’d like)

ta-daa!! thanks 4 reading. now go follow @honeytonedhottie 💕😍

[deer-diary-from-hell]

Redesigned all of the Dandy world (+my take on the game)

”But Liam/deer didn’t you alr posted these-“

you didn’t see anything.

HEADCANONING TIME WWOOOOO

I like to think that ALMOST all of the toons just think they’re just playing a game of tag while collecting ichor like it’s a “capture the flag” thing. It’s in their blood (or ichor) to just be a bunch of childish and playful creatures, they are MADE for kids so it’s not really out of character of them to NOT think that twisteds are dangerous let alone kill them which cause them to see things differently (literally)

(still talking about this👆) If you start the game at first it’s all bright and colorful like something you would see out of a kid’s show, there’s happy music playing in the background all fun and games! Until you get hit by a twisted and lose a heart. Thats when the reality kicks in. Music stops as the colors slowly go back to the sad reality of an abandoned studio/daycare. These twisteds weren’t playing.. they were trying to kill you. This effect is irreversible even if you go back to full health. The shine in their eyes are gone. They aren’t laughing anymore, this isn’t funny. They’re scared.

(Note to self, each toon will have a traumatized look on their face after getting injured and will stay traumatized even after being healed+also applies to a toon when they witness a death of another toon)

I like to think that the twisted are like a “Failed” version of a toon, a toon that wasn’t the exact replica of itself so, it was locked away in the underground as it contorts into it’s biggest flaw(s) might design the twisteds if I feel like it.

If a toon witnessed another toon getting hit they’ll still be oblivious but concerned for their fellow friend

The twisteds prob growls and snarls due to their throats being filled with nothing but ichor, constantly leaking from their mouths as they try to kill you out of jealousy that YOU don’t get to be thrown away like a broken toy and instead cherished by children while they were called a mistake and now you’re going to experience the same pain they went through.

on a lighter note, the toons stole the clothes they’re wearing from the lost and found shortly after being abandoned and threw away their old clothes.

dandy needs those tapes so he doesn’t turn into a twisted. He wants to protect his friends from himself.

Ichor while being dangerous can be used to bring back a dead toon, only dandy knows this. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the toon doesn’t remember how they died after being revived

All toons are asexual. (Gets booed off the stage)

Do you think toons are desperate for interactions after being abandoned for god knows how long.

Astro, Vee and Shelly are the ones who don’t have the “fake reality” sight going on and knows that they’re actually in danger although for Shelly she’s sorta in denial (and ig Teagan and Rodger too? But the both of them just thinks that the twisteds aren’t really that dangerous and thought they wont kill their fellow toons)

might add more hcs soon but prob in later posts

Guys please ask for hcs for any toons you like please I’m begging on my knees I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING.

[salemlunaa]

New reminder: HAVE FUN WITH IT

METHODS? REALLY GIRL 🙄?

WHY ARE YOU EXHAUSTING YOURSELF?

manifesting and shifting should be fun. Not a chore, stop piling up all the methods in this goddamn world as if you’re making some list of chores to do, crossing one out when it “doesn’t work” and moving on to the next.

Not gonna debunk any methods for those who do them, if they’re fun for you or you like that type of structure, go for it. BUT, you don’t need any methods like at all. At all. Decide and you have it, live in imagination. The fact that you can do anything in your imagination is why manifesting is so fun. It’s also fun because we are gods and it’s natural to us. I don’t believe in doing all these methods and “practicing and sticking to a method”. Excuse my language but what the fuck do we need to practice for?? Do I need to remind you who you are??

You’re a god it’s natural to you to be void/“I Am” master, it’s natural to you to manifest instantly. I love a good self concept conversation, but you seriously don’t need 2 weeks to “reprogram your mind”, you’re a god so redesign your past, you’ve ALWAYS had a good self concept, you’ve ALWAYS been this confident about who you are and how powerful you are, you can change your past in seconds, why do you need to do a challenge that lasts a week?

Manifesting & shifting is supposed to fun, we don’t need methods to get into the void/“I Am” because it’s in us and beneath us at the same time. Again, if you REALLY and genuinely enjoy doing methods, go for it. This is a safe space for all manifesters/shifters, just bc I don’t see reason for something or agree with it, doesn’t mean i’m gonna shit on it (this isn’t shiftok after all💀) but, you seriously don’t need methods, live in your imagination and have so much fun with it because YOU CAN, and i’m not gonna tell you that it will eventually turn into reality bc guess what? your imagination was reality to begin with.

So don’t make a cycle of doing a million and one methods, and beating yourself up about the fact that it “didn’t work”. Stop exhausting yourself, manifesting is fun and we do it effortlessly because we’re just so powerful.

We are gods so it’s natural,

methods?? PUHLEASE we don’t need handouts 🙄

The world is ours so let’s act like it.

Customise your new life and make it fun bc it should be.

so stop being mean to yourself, i mean it 👹👹

love ya 💋🐳

[checkertrains]

Luci and Adam redesign/my version! 🍎🎸

Here’s the brief explanation n a bit of lore for why i designed them like this! (Warning, it’s basically just me rambling LMAOO)

Lucifer 🍎:

I let him kept the whole angelic aesthetic cause even if he’s a fallen Angel his features didn’t seem to get distorted or turn “demonic” (from what I’ve read anyways), so by that logic he can still be God most beautiful Angel, and it fit too cause Demons are usually more attractive or good looking to lure in people, deceiving people with their good look. He’s also kinda stuck in the past so usually he’ll appear in his heavenly robe or any old school outfits that he deems old enough

Lucifer in my version is more similar to his pilot personality, he’s more king like in this sense! And of course he’s pretty prideful, and is in denial about having Fallen, he still present himself as if he’s a pure Angel and hates having to interact with Sinners, he’s more lenient with hellborns as they are his rightful subjects after all. But yeah, anyone that isn’t him is often meet with nonchalant or cold attitude, he also doesn’t really care about Charlie whole Hotel, he doesn’t support it nor does he hate it. Cause it have nothing to do with him, he does think it’s a little silly and speak to Charlie like she’s still a child essentially. (He still like ducks in my ver heheheh)

Adam 🎸:

I wanted him to have something nature related in his outfit so I gave him some leaf lol, and his fit is changed so that it resembles a priest outfit more than a simple dress, the halo on his neck and hands restricts his powers, like a power dampener (I based them off of Sun Wu Kong headband!), the seraphim uses it to control how he acts, they can also communicate with him through them, commanding him without using too much energy, Words of god kinda thing. These halo can weaken him A LOT like at some point it can even stop him from using powers entirely, it doesn’t hurt him physically. The halo on his head make it so that anyone who look at him will only see a blur, or blurry version of his face

His helmet has three faces, when he’s wearing it he can see from either sides or all of them, it help him counter attacks, his exorcist uniform is just like his normal outfit, just with more gold, the horns on his head emit holy light, stopping any demons n Sinners from looking at him unless they want to lose their sight, he can also use it to gather up energy to shoot out a massive beam that can erase anything in it path. His wings are based on duck wings but more durable, water and blood can’t stick to it which is fantastic for clean up!

[gh0stygray]

Lute redesign!! aka the sapphic knightify of lute because I actually really enjoyed her character. I was interested in her way back when she was first teased along side Adam and when I finally got to see her in action in the show I was enthralled, I loved her songs!

For this design I decided to add more armour to her, she’s not afraid of getting hurt or anything but I feel like it sets her aside from the rest of the exorcists. She takes her job incredibly seriously, she is a lieutenant after all. I added some crosses to her design and made her wing colour match her hair, also added a second hair option to show off her undercut!

It’s a brighter purple and I think she looks neat with it, I’ll probably add some casual clothing for her, I found it weird how she and Adam were actively sporting their exorcist outfits freely in heaven when the rest of heaven isn’t supposed to know about the annual extermination. Lute even had blood all over her outfit.

I hate Adam but him and lute as a duo was my favourite part they were funny and their duets were great, kinda feel like we got a major villain death wayyy too soon tho. I should be taking a crack at the seraphim sisters or Adam next.

[alinkthroughtheages]

Altta Link & Ravio reference sheet + notes

I finally got around to make a somewhat presentable reference sheet for these two. These outfits haven’t been properly shown in the comic yet, but they will very soon :D

Sorry abt how messy these doodles are :,) More notes below the cut

Ravio’s merchant attire is also what can be considered his “casual clothes”, and the robe is actually the same overcoat as he puts on in this panel (I made some changes to the colors that will stay consistent from now on). It may be worn as just a normal coat, or styled with a belt as shown above. It also has a hood with an embroidered “bunny face” that isn’t shown here

I have an old “outfit guide” for Ravio that’s more or less the same as the final version, except the length of his hair. Here

Another thing I want to talk about is Link’s hair! It’s pink at the tips even though it’s been many years since ALTTP. This will be explained more in detail later on, but long story short Lorule has… some similarities to the Dark World.

This one was probably obvious, but the staff Ravio is using is indeed the one Yuga had in ALBW. In ALTTA it’s called the Color Rod!

Here are some rough first sketches of ALBW-era Link and Ravio

Edit/some more random details: Ravio’s scarf used to be a normal, very long scarf that he wore wrapped around his neck in a way that left two “tails” down his back, somewhat resembling bunny ears? After the events of ALBW he got the opportunity to redesign/“upcycle” it so that it drapes differently. Idk anything about sewing, but Ravio loves to sew and is good at it too!

Link definitely wears at least chainmail under his tunic, I was just too lazy to draw it properly. With my limited knowledge of how armor works, I suppose it would go between his red undershirt and the green tunic

Link’s master sword (?) Is based on the one from ALTTP even though he wields many different swords and the blue version of the master sword in later games..

[dhampling]

ivory tower 18+ ASCENDED!ASTARION X AFAB!READER, 4.6K

Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city; but you want this.

woah boy! my first ascended astarion piece, so please be kind! dal is back babey! woooo! thank you to @bhaalism and @lipstickghoulie for dealing with me while writing this i love you both endlessly. wc: 4.6k cw: afab reader, female language used. breeding, mind-control, p in v, ascended astarion, public fingering, private banging, great times all round, as always if there are errors no there aren't, creampies, yippee

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep. Not really.

She sometimes slows just enough to find some purchase amongst the muddle, though - tiptoes lazy through highsun in soft linens, the burgeoning swell of soap suds and sunny rosemary through wide open wooden shutters. Lingering - sweat-soaking worn leathers, the sore of the flex in the arch of your foot splayed over cobble. As if to grasp at the memory, your fingers stretch out from your side and on to the dark oak of the armrest, in a moment of sheer jubilance. Summer. The sun. Wide bright mornings. Hopeful and hot as a bated breath. 

The city ambles onward this evening, no different despite the inclement weather and the din of an early darkness. Half-lidded through dark streets as rain smatters the roofs with wet, glistening something dozy under the tall oil street lamps and swirls of ever-present heavy fog. Gurgling whilst each drain fills with water and swallows deep into the sewers. 

Scatters the hay, bears the slip; sings a slow drunken stutter of thunder-wind whiling at the windows into the small hours. There’s a comfort to be found in it. 

The harbour bell will go on to toll for every sail weary ship coming in from the fog; the crescent caress of the Gate’s waiting arms lit low with oily dots of amber. That even this late into the night the bands of trawlers on the dock work crates and barrels into cargo holds with worn hands and ruddy cheeks. The gulls and their scattering squawks. The flapping of their fat feathered wings up into the clouds. 

From where you sit in the Ivory Tower you can hardly see anything at all. Fog obscures the streets to a point, other than the light patches under the oil lanterns out on the ramparts. The window runs dripping wet with condensation. Pools under the pane. 

A hideaway of sorts within the manor. Newly reclaimed by Astarion in some deal with the quivering council in order to keep him sweet. Not that he has any armies of undead in his retainer to command as yet, but they don’t need to know that. There’s time. You’re still blessedly mortal and able.

Astarion. 

He should be skulking the halls somewhere below with that unnerving silent step he’s taken to using. Your cheeks grow warm, the blanket over your shoulders pulled closer into your chest as you allow your mind to run wild; the scald of bliss to your brain like that of some ironmonger’s poker, split straight to the core. 

Your love. Your lover. 

Amongst his many newfound desires and passions seemingly includes the impetus to redesign a centuries-old palace from scratch, and while you doubt he has the want nor willpower to take the project anywhere near to completion you’re more than happy to indulge him during this burst of creativity. A designer’s eye. Lavish yet not ostentatious, he tells you. Your own private wing of the palace, and one you’ll share together. He has no need for his own private chambers. You’re the only one he wants to be beside. You understand that at its essence, it isn’t even necessarily a want to design for creativity’s sake, it’s important to you both to have every memory of the residence’s former owner gone. Every threadbare tread of carpet, every scuff on the wall; every painting being demounted by workers downstairs and shipped to the auction house first thing in the morning. You can hear them if you still enough, heart still beating in your chest and the low chunter of layman gossip.

The version of him you knew before his ascension was so very scared. Beautiful, but wavering. You loved him of course; and you always will  - it was that version of him, the one lost in the wilderness that you fell for, and gods; you fell hard - frenetic and whiny, fleeting as light snow never to settle on the forest floor. Wild-eyed. 

But this Astarion - the real Astarion, as far as he is concerned - has you completely and utterly enraptured each day you wake together, the same as ever, from the second your eyes open. Wrapped in those Daerlunian-import plush linens atop your gargantuan newly-installed four poster bed. Face of marble with those cattish dark lashes and eyes of carnelian crush. Enchants every room he walks into, as he always has. 

You don’t know he’s with you until a hand ghosts your shoulder, sinewy; with those deft pale fingers deep encroaching on your collarbone in his grasp. 

“I didn’t hear you, lover.”

“But I heard you.’

He circles round the velvet armchair, resplendent in his home finery. Not a crease to be seen. Voice soft, yet laced with a bristling concern.

‘Why do you insist on sitting up here?”

You err for a brief moment. 

“I can hear the rain on the roof, here. See some bustle when the fog clears. The city goes on.” You shake your head with a smile as he crouches beside you, nestling his head in the crook of your arm.

“But it’s cold. Dark. Come down - I can light the fire in our sitting room if you like?” 

“We have so many centuries yet to see together! What sense is there in not observing the world as it is now? Keeping record of the city as we saved it?”

His head lifts and his eyes meet yours, some churlish quirk of a brow in the low light.

“An archivist, now? Is that to be your profession alongside me? Whilst you raise our young?”

“If I wish it to be, yes.”

He laughs, a gentle low hum.

“Then an archivist you’ll be - the most renowned in all the lands. We’ll make it so.’ He stands once more and takes your hands from your lap, bringing them clasped to his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. 

‘I’ll begin planning on your archives - I presume you’ll want a library? Or something similar in your wing, maybe even an office. Who knows?”

Astarion looks to the room around you, the shapes covered with old canvas and the rickety floorboards underfoot. Cobwebs in the corner. There’s no grimace nor displeasure. He simply surveys as cool as still water. Objective.

“I’ll have some of the merchants relay their contacts come morning too. If you insist on expanding your territory up here then it must befit you.”

“Befit me?” You grin now. His hold on your hands remains secure.

“If you want me to say it, then I suppose I will. As many times as it takes to get it through that heavy skull of yours.’

His smile reaches his eyes as he circles back behind your chair, fingers splayed over your shoulders once more in a deep round kneading pattern.

‘There’s nothing you won’t have if you want for it. Nothing too good for you to covet, my solace; Saviour to the whole Sword Coast and every plain mite within its bounds.’

There’s a small pause as he bows to kiss the top of your head.

‘And I thank the stars every day that I can provide for you. That you saw the potential in me and lifted me higher, to such profane glory amongst the swill of common man. That my gold, my influence, and terror, and each lift of my blade is at your command and yours alone. That you stayed at my side.” 

He doesn’t like to mention the gods, hence the stars. Pointedly brings the grimace back into play, occasionally even furrows with the slightest twinge of anger brewing at his brow. The gods had no role to play in your shared victories. No divine intervention saved him from two hundred years of torment, from certain death after the crash of the nautiloid along that sun-soaked span of rocky beach;-

You did. You with your strange inclination toward the weak man he once was. The shell he lived in like a hermit crab on the shore, nothing more.

-

On bright days, you thank him for giving you time.

Time to live, time to breathe with full lungs. Time to allow you to burn your eyes in the beating sun with a silver pot of fresh coffee and whatever ridiculous spew the papers hold between the pages today. 

You know as you sit in comfortable silence that your time dwindles, and that your turning is inevitable. Your eternal wedded bliss is to be alongside him and will be as vivid in nature as all the colours of the astral plane, if he’s to be believed - and there’s no reason not to see his word as gospel. You can see each moment as crystalline as sea glass on sand. Forever with the man you love more than you’ve ever felt inclined to love anything. The bridal ceremony is but a drop in the vast ocean of your lives together. 

He thanks you too. Often alongside you with eyes closed in some dozy recline, forearm hanging lazily whilst he takes the sun on his skin like a blessing. A loose linen shirt akin to the one he wore back at camp at the start of your journey together, strings wide open, a blaze of blinding flesh at the corner of your eye each time he shifts.

The veranda on a clear day. Astarion has assured you he’ll never take this from you. He’ll never take anything that you don’t willingly give him with a clear heart - and why would you give him your ability to bask in the sun, like a street cat in days-warm dust? What purpose does that serve either of you, beyond making you a less useful weapon in his prized arsenal?

At one point, all you wanted was to talk to him - and it rings true even now. The want to be the bearer of all his tales. To learn about him, to be close to him; to hear him tear the world apart with that dulcet snarl, walking alongside each other on the barren dirt trails out in the wilderness. Hop-skipping to keep up with his quiet gait. Giving him back as good as you got. The glimmer of his hair in the sunlight, the way he’d sometimes just stop.

Close his eyes. Feel the heat. The gentle burn of highsun on tender flesh. A soft inhale.

That morning out in the clearing after your first night together. Arms outstretched in a welcome to the light. It had taken a few minutes for it to click as you’d silently watched on, why his sun salutation was so fond. So open.

It’s to be a long engagement with regard to your transformation whilst the manor undergoes renovations. Reason after reason as to why now isn’t the ideal time to commit you to eternity. You know why he wants to keep a hold on your precious mortality for the time being, of course; and that keeps you from the forever embrace of his Dark Kiss. It never changes. 

You’ll allow him to sire your children. You want him to. Crave it. Him.

Your very own lineage together, he whispers; frenzied by your ear as his fingers crawl the bare span of your thigh. He can breed you full like fate intended and you’ll have something - besides him - that’ll also last forever. Something of your own surpassing the death of all of your contemporaries. The Vampire Ascendant and The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate, flesh-on-flesh, skin smacking skin; his debauched groans and lewd whimpers as he buries himself inside you, your cooing breaths;-

You’ll wed normally too, for the interested eyes of the city. Some dull ceremony with the elites adorning all tables as gilded pieces might some decorative chess board, deceptive vows. Legally it makes things easier should anything befall either of you but the hassle almost makes the whole thing undesirable - gods, especially because he already treats you as some smitten newlywed might. Adores you. Follows you around the manor, stalking; like some wolf cub after its mother. Carries you to bed each evening and ploughs you senseless, until spit gathers in the corners of your wet, wanting mouth and you can’t see straight through grey-blear eyes.

He likes the idea of you taking his name by law. Melds with your own like it were meant to be, from the starter threads of whatever cosmic tapestry pulled you together, the marriage of your first name to his last, interwoven by a scholar’s hand in gold-shining delicate point.  

Ancunín. The House of.

Tapestries. Large, spanning the halls. The Sarsantyr's over in Waterdeep - they’ll be able to create what you’re picturing. 

A familiar gaze meets yours. It’s then that you realise you aren’t alone in your mind once more

“If you want tapestries, you only have to ask.” 

“In fairness - you didn’t give me a chance to.”

He hums, tilting his head a little in the sun’s glare.

“I’ll send for them. The Sarsantyr's, yes? Have them pack up all their little-’

He pulls a face and lifts his hands in some kind of puzzled shake.

‘Sewing bits? Textiles? I’ll send carriages. They can come and stay in the lower rooms. Create the masterpiece you envision.” Astarion sniggers a little at the thought of putting them in the old dormitory while you remain lost in thought.

“Okay. Check them through first though, yes? 

The real event - the wedding - will give you total ecstasy beyond your wildest preconception, you know this. Unfettered and euphoric. Books and books on the topic stacked clumsily beside your bed, reds and greens; the turning of a vampire bride in leather bound prose. You know what to expect in florid detail. You know to trust your lover, that the rabid creature you’ll become is only a temporary mental state precursing an eternity alongside him. 

And yet, you wonder about the children. They’ll be here by then. However many he decides is enough, naturally; assumedly under the care of some hired help whilst you engage in your thoroughly bastardised pastiche of a wedding ceremony. You laugh now. He’s still in your head, mulling over your thoughts as soon as you can think them. 

Will you miss them? Will they be your last thought before you pass away; Astarion unable to complete this ritual alone as he was unable to before? Will your death lead to his, leaving your dhampir offspring to ravage Baldur’s Gate unsupported by the windfall of knowing parents? There’s still no hesitation, though. You will bear his young. You want to. The consequences either way are vast and long-lasting, and you’d rather be at his side than facing his ire- 

“Love, what are these thoughts? What on earth is going on in that very pretty head of yours today?” His voice is a low drawl, pitying yet laced with affection. He sits straight in his chair whilst a hand lazily searches for yours atop the sun-warmed table; beyond the scope of the ramparts wall the low meander of city life continues on.

“Mulling things over.”

“You don’t need to do that, pet. Come now.’ He beckons you onto his lap and wraps his arms around your middle, hand searching for the soft pillow of your chest as your ass backs up to his abdomen.

‘You want me to make it better?” 

You nod gently, the sun catching your eye in a particularly bright beam and making you squint. 

“Please.”

“Poor thing. It’s okay.” As he coos; one hand finds the curve of soft flesh at your chest, holding the weight of your breast firmly as he starts lightly thumbing at the nipple through your nightshirt.

“There, now. Good girl.” Your head falls back onto his shoulder, a deep sigh as he lulls you into a new state of calm astride him. Birds sing overhead whilst you nuzzle his neck.

“I will miss this warm flesh of yours, you know. Terribly so.’ His other hand moves to your nightskirt, gently hitching the material bit-by-bit up your thighs until you sit exposed to the air. Nobody can see you from here - the faceless crowd little but colourful dots below; Astarion giving a small tense laugh as he feels your pulse quicken against him. 

He toys with your skirt, edging ever nearer your exposed cunt; and your eyes flutter closed. 

‘But the greater purpose… I just can’t let it go. Us. Our lives together. I sincerely doubt you want to wither away to age; to lose your extraordinary beauty-’

A gentle groan as he feels your warmth.

‘Do you, my most precious flower?” 

“Of- Of course I don’t. I want to be with you, as we are; forever.”

“Then we’re going to need to make a concerted start on the only thing setting us back, are we not?” His fingers gently tap on the crux of your pubic bone, threateningly close to your clit. You feel the familiar seep of your slit leaking onto the bunched skirt fabric and you think of honey. Some kind of sweet glaze.

“Yes.”

As you sink further into him his fingers move down just a little to meet your clit; and in response to your delighted sighs he very lightly begins to stroke either side of the engorged flesh. There’s no urgency to his movement nor his demeanour; just a treacle-thick teasing grin as he turns his head to kiss your blazing cheek.

“Good.”

There’s something borderline celestial about the gentle way he touches you, coaxing more of your slick from you with every gentle jerk. He deftly motions ‘come hither’ with a soaking middle finger dipping lightly at your hole then brings your arousal up to wetten your clit once more.

“You want this, don’t you?” A finger slips down to your cunt, this time slipping and nestling deep inside as you feel yourself writhe on him. One arm scrambles around the back of his neck to support yourself while he begins to curl at your spongy spot, and the anchor of your arousal shifts free.

“I’ve been rifling through that glorious mind of yours these past few days and I see you now. You want comfort. To comfort. To seek shelter in those warm lights on the horizon, to know you aren’t alone in the late hours.”

You nod furiously, wincing, desperate to feel him deeper. Thicker. You need more, your fox-eyed paramour giving only the barest minimum he can do to watch you squirm.

“You, with my babe in arm;- oh the image alone does things to you, doesn’t it?”

It’s as if he’s creating the visions in your head as he speaks them, bringing them to the forefront of your mind in hushed coos and silent gasps. As if by magic, the only thing on your mind is a primal need for him to fuck you full. Nothing else, no mind for coffee nor completed manor renovations. 

You will be round. You will brim with life before he turns you, and you’ll take to his seed the minute he offers it to you. You’ll accommodate him like no other across Toril could hope to. You wonder if he has the power to decide how many, as he adds another finger to your unbridled torment. If he could choose to speed the process up with a celebration of twins, triplets. An heir and two spares. Maybe he’d wait instead until the first was born, just to ensure the viability of his bloodline. A test.

He’s doing this; you become starkly aware as he withdraws his fingers, spiderwebs of glistening drool clinging to your inner thigh as he brings them between his lips and suckles. He’s giving you these ideas of grandeur because he can. Because you are his. Because you wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else, to be tied to any other notion of whatever a fulfilling life is, if it weren’t one shared wholly by him. With him.

“Let me take you inside, sweet one. Let’s take care of you properly, shall we? Curb this fever, hm?”

Please, you think. Please take this burning hole in my womb and make it full with you. Extinguish the flame with your unholy spend and give me children. Give me oud and orchids and a life of warmth, however long we both may live.

“Use your words, my love. Tell me you want this.”

“I want this. Please.”

-

On the bed you now lie, the room cool and dark; balcony doors open wide with light-billowing curtains. Sweat consumes you as your thoughts run wild, the smell of your arousal, clammy hands and deep breaths in the low light. Astarion approaches like something from a dream, shirtless now; smirk plastered cheek-to-cheek as he leans over your trembling form with confidence - your lust-addled fingers reaching for his steady form like a ship to harbour. 

“You want to feel it, little dove? Feel how you set me alight?”

He pries your wrist from him with gentle urgency, taking your hand under his and skating both downwards; down the plane of his tight torso, slowing to a stop just above his pelvis.

“Tell me - do you want to feel it?”

A small smirk plays at the corner of your lips, but he doesn’t seem to notice - watching the way your hand twitches under his.

“Hm?”

His groan is guttural. Thick. He doesn’t even try to mask it, eyes wide as his hand shifts yours just a little further down and over the blistering burn of his heavy cock through loose linen trousers. A hazy sigh as he moans a small whimper at your touch.

“Please, Astarion. I beg you.”

It’s like his fingers are enchanted, the way they reduce you to this sodden mess. Unable to think unless guided delicately by his superior whim. 

“I need to bury myself inside you fully for this to take. I need your full attention, submission; your devotion to our lives together. Do I make myself clear?”

He’s giving you one final chance to withdraw. Your head clears for one sweet moment and you can do little else but stare at his bulge with heavy lids and your mouth agape.

“Crystal. I ache for you. Please, give this to me.”

You lift to meet him in a soft kiss, jaw slackened and cunt ablaze. Nothing else matters, no complications, nor possibilities of horribly mangled spawn from your womb as a result of your copulation. This scalding stupor that sends you insane won’t go away until he quenches it with his seed. 

Your response has satisfied him, if the way he stands sharpish and unties his trouser laces is anything to go by. The glassy head of his cock stands purple at his stomach, leaking wild at the slit and red-hot as your hand reaches blindly for him in your hunger.

He gently taps you away and back down onto the sheets. 

“Magic?” You hear yourself mumble, still amazed at how surely swollen he must feel with how sore he looks. Has to be. 

“Just me.”

There’s a tenderness in his eyes as he crawls back over you, legs instinctively parting and lifting at the knee to accommodate him. Something that compels him to hold your face in the hand that isn’t supporting his weight and just look at you, fondly; for what feels like an age.

Then he shifts once more to angle himself, decidedly spending no more time on preparation. The heat of his cock against your slit is unlike anything you’ve ever known, dizzying yet pleasurable; hard and yet still yielding, and as he thrusts a shallow dip into your core you swear you see angels overhead. Yes, you’re ready. You’ve never been more ready for anything than you are for the sheer ecstasy you know he’s about to give you, and he’s going to give you it in droves. Seismic tremors as he shifts a little and you adjust to him once again.

He nods. He hears you. 

Then, he snaps once more; and he’s lost.

Each glub of his cock meeting your spill as he ruts into you; the way you feel it running downward in long dribbles, with each and every mindless hump of his hips eking more honey from your cunt in spades. 

You hear the sounds of your shared carnal pleasure and it makes you clench around him in some kind of self-perpetuating cycle. Groans and whimpers and moans and hisses and the frequent egregious slaps to your thighs whilst he chases his high. 

He’s perfect like this. Halo of curls above you, voice silken as he calls you every pet name under the sun, his, always. Your legs ache already from being wound so tightly, interlocked around him, and you think of the prespill inside you already. How each fangy showman’s smile means he’s twitching at your cervix and leaking molten gold inside you with every thrust. 

It’s not until he nuzzles down to your neck that you remember to offer it, potentially for the last time on this mortal coil. 

“Are you asking?”

“Well, you didn’t offer.”

The immediate pang is one of violent nausea, subsiding quickly into a wooze coating the bottom of your stomach in black tar as he fucks upward. Unease. There’s something in his spit, you assume. Something that makes the gaping wounds a little more bearable, a little less raw as he kitten-licks the flesh between swallows. Ice courses your veins with adrenaline as it always does.

Astarion chokes down his first sip with an eager cough. The burgeoning panic wracking your limbs turns into a numbed haze as your lover feasts, big neat gulps whilst he clutches at your ribcage with fingers splayed deep and cock buried to the hilt, like a man starved. His hair tickles  at your jaw, the smell of something herbal. Slightly lemony. 

He splutters that he’s close and you feel yourself nearing your peak too.

There’s a profane desecration in what he’s doing, painting your walls in an attempt to get you pregnant. Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city. No villages to raise them, no cards nor flowers from friends or family; but you want this. 

You want him to taint you in his particular shade of crimson, visibly; so the realms know who made The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate come to heel. The man who compelled her through sheer love alone and to whom she gave everything. The indomitable force for whom you’ll die, only to resurrect forever as his.

Visions of your turning don’t scare you - all lightning and thunder, the cries of your dhamplings in some nursery down the towering halls of your palatial wing; and yet you’ll be safe in his caress. He wouldn’t let a single thing happen to you. He won’t. 

And as he cums; he calls your name.

Some rhythmic prayer over and over again; and with each kick of his cock he loses some of his bedroom charm and hurtles back to earth, humbly enraptured. More candid. His weary muscles tighten as yours threaten your own release around him.

“Cum for me, now. Milk me.” in a heavy whisper whilst he strokes the soft flesh of your cheek; and you do. You cum harder than you can remember ever before. Each wave of sheer pleasure some blackout tidal wave as you writhe, staccato in his arms. 

If you die during the ceremony, you’ll die happy. Should the younglings bite their way through your womb, it won’t matter.

You’re loved. He loves you, in soft kisses and gentle arms carried all the way to the waiting washtub. In the way he sponges your aching shoulders and brings a washcloth to your dazed face.

Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep, not really.

But tonight it will, in the patient, visceral bliss of calm before a summer storm.

[ellecdc]

OMG I HAVE AN IDEA

What about the kids (mid Hogwarts) in like 3rd or younger (2nd?) Year and they invite hermione and ron and the Weasley family for Christmas and it's amazing and we see draco getting along w them 😭😭😭 and Hermione is the 'mom' friend so she loves hanging out w the other blacks and potters? and we see how nice harry and draco's friends are and it's just a heartfelt moment 😭😭😭

I'm a whore for Christmas and also fluff so YES HERE YOU GO I don’t even know if this is any good so I apologize if this isn’t really what you were looking for. I realize now there isn’t much interaction between the golden trio + Draco but this is my take on it 🫶 CBBH Holiday Special - Weasley, Potter, Black families

CW: mentions of past (parental) abuse

What's One More?

You and Sirius were pretty chill parents – at least you liked to think so. You never really spoke to your children like they were children, but rather like little people who had important thoughts and ideas. You let them express themselves creatively, which sometimes led to paint and marker prints lining the walls, or photo albums being plundered and cut up to create scrap books, or even the odd redesign of an old family heirloom portrait in the hall.

None of that wasn’t anything that couldn’t be fixed with a little magic.

What you guys could not budge on? 

Christmas at home with the family.

This was why when Draco sent a letter home during his 3rd year suggesting he may stay at Hogwarts for the holidays, Sirius thought your head might actually combust.

“What on earth is he thinking? He’s never spent a holiday away from us – why wouldn’t he want to come home?” You were yelling at Sirius as if it was him who suggested Draco stay at Hogwarts this Christmas. 

“I’m not sure love, maybe there’s a reason.” He tried to reason with you. He should have tried to keep his mouth shut.

“There is no reason good enough to break his mother’s heart.” You pouted, sounding disturbingly close to tears. 

And you all called Sirius the dramatic one.

“I’ll talk to him.” Sirius promised with a placating kiss to your temple.

So, Sirius sent him an owl basically along the lines of “hey mate, you’re tearing your mother apart here. It’d be sort of shady of me to let another guy break my girl’s heart so what the hell?”, to which Draco replied, basically speaking straight to Sirius’ soul. 

“I’m sorry, dad, it’s just that Theo doesn’t really want to go home this winter, and I don’t want him to be alone for the holidays.” 

My stupid lovely caring son, who raised him? Sirius wondered to himself. The answer was obvious. It was you.

Theodore Nott, son of Thoros Nott and the late Camelia Nott nee Rosier. His mother died under suspicious circumstances (which Sirius felt translated directly to “shitty ass husband”) when the boy was four, and Thoros Nott was able to avoid prosecution for his roles in the Wizarding War by offering intel on other prominent Death Eaters.

Azkaban or not, the man was an ass. Rumoured to have killed his own wife, Sirius couldn’t imagine he was much nicer to his only son.

The heir. 

Sirius felt sick...it was nearly painful how much he could relate to poor Theodore Nott.

“Did you find out why your son hates us?” You asked Sirius a few days later. You were obviously teasing, but Sirius didn’t miss the genuine concern in your voice.

“Yes, and actually, the reasoning for his absence this holiday is a direct result of him being your child.”

You placed the mug you’d been holding a little too roughly onto the table as you leveled a look at Sirius. “What are you on about?”

“He doesn’t want to leave his friend behind.” Sirius smiled kindly at you. He watched the contempt drain from your face.

“The sod!”

Sirius barked a surprised laugh. “What!?”

“That’s such an easy fix!” you exclaimed like everyone around you was sort of stupid (they kind of were). “His friend can come here! We’re already hosting the Weasley’s; Lily told Harry to invite Hermione too. What’s one more?”

What’s one more, indeed.

So that’s how Sirius, James, Lily, you, Arthur & Molly Weasley ended up on platform 9 ¾ to retrieve exactly eleven (11) children while Bill and Charlie waited back at the house with Remus, Regulus and the youngest four of the Potter/Black children.

“Hermione, I hope your parents weren’t too disappointed we stole you away for the holidays. They already have to part with you for ten months of the year.” You said as you served Lyra a portion of roast potato’s before passing the dish to your left. 

“They were a little sad, but they said they understood my excitement at getting the chance to spend more time with wizarding families.” The fourteen-year-old stated matter-of-factly.

“Well, perhaps the next time they’d like to join you. The more the merrier.” James interjected.

“You sure about that Prongsie? This table can’t take much more transfiguring to make it any longer!” Remus called dramatically from the opposite end of the table, as if they were in completely different rooms.

“Bugger the table!” James called back just as dramatically, “we’ll just get a new one!”

Sirius didn’t miss the nervous glance Theo shot towards Draco. Sirius remembered how nervous James’ boisterous behaviour with his parents made him – concerned that a lashing or crucio was just around the corner.

“Don’t mind them, Theo,” you offered quietly to the boy. Sirius took a moment to marvel the fact that you’d noticed too, and your mama-bear protection came out at the perfect time. “They’re idiots with zero volume control.”

“I HAVE PERFECT VOLUME CONTROL, VIX.” James screamed, causing the younger kids to squeal in laughter and bring their hands up to cover their ears. Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasley’s all chuckled at the outburst as well – accustomed to James’ brand of goofiness.

“You get used to it, trust me.” Sirius offered quietly with a wink. Theo smiled gratefully at the two of you and seemed to relax somewhat in his chair.  

“I agree that the production needs to be tightly structured and coordinated Percy, but it also has to be fun or you’re going to lose your actors.” Hermione could be heard arguing with the older boy from down the hall.

"I cannot work under these conditions." Percy could be heard responding.

“You’d think this was a Broadway production of Sweeny Todd.” Lily muttered quietly to Sirius sat beside her.

“What’s a Sweeny Todd?” Sirius muttered back.

“What’s a Broadway?” James muttered from her other side.

“Purebloods.” Remus muttered from across the room with an eyeroll.

The kids wanted to make their own play for the adults - it was mostly the youngest ones, though Fred & George never could help themselves but partake in any potential mischief, Hermione was very excited to help direct the production, and Percy never could leave very much alone. The second Hermione was involved, Harry and Ron shoved their noses into it too, while Draco and Theo sat in the audience with the adults and far too many stuffed animals.

“I mean, were the teddy bears really necessary? There’s already a theatre worth of people here.” Theo commented what he thought was quietly to Draco, but he had one werewolf and four animagi with animal-like hearing, as well as Molly & Lily with tried and true mother-hearing in the room, so his comment was met with a round of laughter.

“Oh my gods, Draco, can we keep him?” Remus commented as he pretended to wipe a tear from under his eye.

Pink dusted the tops of Theo’s cheek bones, but he offered the room a shy smile.

Sirius thought it was like looking in a mirror: he imagined this is what Effie and Fleamont saw when Sirius spent holidays in this very home some nearly twenty years ago. A boy who was likely fun and eccentric around his friends where he felt safe, but reverting to the proper pureblood heir you were beaten into becoming around adults. 

Sirius sort of hated it.

As the little kids and the rest of the production made their way to the room, Sirius noticed James’ eyes on him. James offered him a kind smile that brought tears to his eyes, almost as if he was saying ‘I know, right?’ 

By the end of the holiday, the adults had almost managed to get Theo to shed his aristocratic persona with them.

“And how’s Minnie? Are you guys being nice to her? Make sure to set up some good pranks this year; gotta keep the old gal on her toes, it’s good for her health.” James said to the Hogwarts students solemnly at breakfast. 

“You did not just call Minnie an ‘old gal’, Prongs.” Remus chided from his place at the table.

“You both did not just refer to Professor McGonagall as Minnie.” Regulus added incredulously. 

“That’s her name, Reggie.” James answered no nonsense. “We earned that right when we graduated.”

“No, we earned that right when we graduated.” Lily corrected as she motioned to herself, you, and Regulus. “You lot should still be in detention for the crap you pulled.”

Remus, James, and Sirius all adorned their faces with a blissful sort of reverence as they thought back to their school days.

“We were awesome.” James said dreamily.

“You were awful.” You corrected.

“You’re our hero’s.” The Twins added in unison. 

“What in Godric’s name are you doing to them, Hermione?” Ron asked through a large serving of sausage in his mouth. 

Hermione, who was replacing small pompom’s into two kitchen whisks to hand back to three-year-old Stella and Leo, didn’t even spare Ron a glance as she answered sharply, “It’s good for their fine motor skills, Ronald.”

“Wha’s a fine motor skill?” He asked incredulously, somehow still with food in his mouth.

“Oh, read a book, Ronald.” Hermione huffed before her face turned sickly sweet as she cooed at Stella. “Good job, Stell!”

“Blimey.” Ron muttered as he turned to Harry.

“I can’t believe you’re all going to be leaving us again so soon!” Molly said tearfully as she looked around the room. “I like our having our table so full- FRED WEASLEY YOU GET THAT FURNITURE OFF THE CEILING THIS ISNTANT.” 

“I’m George, mum.” The twin said from his chair suspended on the ceiling. Sirius had to give him credit for looking as casual as he did whilst all the blood in his body was no doubt making its way to his head. 

“I DON’T CARE WHO YOU ARE, YOU’LL BE GROUNDED IF YOU’RE NOT DOWN IN THE NEXT 30 SECONDS.”

At the beginning of the week – the shouting, the threats, the energy, and the talking back that George (or Fred, Sirius still wasn’t entirely sure) just displayed would have had Theo pale in the face. Today, he just looked around the room quickly to ensure everyone else was in good spirits before joining in on the laughter.

Back on platform 9 ¾, you and Sirius decided to pull Draco aside. 

“Hey love, listen. I don’t want to embarrass Theo, but would you let him know we really enjoyed his company over the holiday, and he is welcome at the Manor anytime.” You spoke softly to your son.

“We mean it, Draco. The Potter Manor has, and always will be, a safe place for people to run to. If he needs somewhere better, somewhere safer to go, he’s more than welcome to come live with us.” Sirius added earnestly. 

Draco looked like he might cry before he threw himself into his parents’ arms, causing each of them to let out a surprised ‘oof’.

“I love you guys. I’m so lucky to have you – we all are.” Draco said, though his words were muffled from his place in the crook of Sirius’ arm.

“We’re the lucky ones, Draco.” You insisted as you stamped a kiss to his head.

The parents and youngest kids stood on the platform and waved as they watched the train disappear.

“It’s so odd.” James commented quietly.

“What is?” Sirius asked.

“How life works.”

Sirius looked at his mate who was still watching after the long-gone train hoping he would clarify. When it became obvious that he wouldn’t, Sirius elbowed him.

“How’s that?”

James finally turned to Sirius and offered him a smile that seemed to portray a mixture of grief, pride, and love.

“Draco is Theo’s James.”

Sirius watched as you dried your face and went about applying your skincare. 

“I can hear your mind turning from here, babe. What’re you thinking about?” You finally said, causing Sirius to look at your reflection only to find your eyes already on him.

“You’re sure you are okay? If Theo needs to move in with us, I mean.” Sirius asks. 

Your movements paused as your eyebrows migrated to meet in the middle – bemusement painting your features.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“We sort of decided we weren’t going to have any more kids.” Sirius explained. You snorted in response as your turned to face him, leaning back against the bathroom counter.

“Sirius, as long as I don’t have to push anymore out, you can have as many kids as you want.”

Sirius smiled immediately at you. “You sure we don’t already have enough?” He asked

Your smile grew to match his. “What’s one more?”

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Sloppy Arackniss Redesign (?)

Before I get into this, clarifying, I SAY SLURS IN THIS!!! I CAN RECLAIM SAID SLURS!!! That is all thank you. I kiss boys and love men. Carry on.

Arackniss’s design is bound to change drastically sometime eventually but atm this is just what im doing. My main problem is how he just looks exactly like angel but black. I know thats originally what the whole thing is and they’re opposites but it’s just kinda boring now. Angel is an entirely different character at this point now and Arackniss’s design should accommodate the changes while still being a bit similar looking. I want him to still look very similar to Angel in specific ways like that stupidass headshape but not because of a sibling thing. Honestly when the two were alive they hardly looked anything alike I’m 100% sure of that. Antonio (Arackniss) had black hair and much broader features and was relatively tall and kind of bulky while Anthony & Molly had light blonde hair and more subtle and soft round features and basically one of the only ways to tell them apart aside from personality was Anthony having polycoria and having bloodshot eyes pretty often.

Arackniss hardly looks how he did when he was alive anymore and has taken on many more features of Angel because of his deep rooted rivalry with his brother. I assume hating your middle-child brother that literally got named after you only to have him overdose and kill himself before actually doing anything with his life is enough to stir up more than a little bit of inner turmoil. These guys probably beat each other up OFTEN. Antonio was the first born son and dealt with so much shit before these other guys even were born and when they did show up, Anthony was named after him because their parents honestly just got lazy, and even though Molly didn’t have the name Molly yet, she was still treated like a golden child even though she contributed next to nothing to the family business which yeah that helped her in the long run but to Antonio that’s his number one priority in life. Appeasing his family is what keeps his brain running. And with that, seeing this random kid show up, get named after you, and be treated so much more leniently than you were AND he’s practically your problem because youre 15 hes like fucking 3 years old and your parents are busy all of the goddamn time AND when you DIE you take on the traits of this stupid fucking kid. He has a horrid case of eldest child syndrome and probably some insane identity issues.

This isn’t to say his hatred is only directed at Anthony either, he definitely has his issues with Molly as well, but she kept more to herself and even if she followed Anthony nonstop she was copying what Anthony was doing instead of what he was doing. Copying is the highest form of flattery but flattery gets annoying when everyone cares about the younger “better behaved” version of you. This is one of the biggest reasons Arackniss berates Angel now and in the past. Even though they havent spoken in years, Arackniss still holds Angel to the status of “faggot” because that was practically the only thing he was “worse” than him at. It was the biggest dirt he had on Angel possible to the point that became a genuine used name for him as Anthony “the fag” Benetti. Finding out your angel of a brother is gay during a time where it’s heavily frowned upon, especially by your own family is like a gold mine.

Arackniss is NOT a good person if you couldn’t somehow tell already. He’s homophobic, has a masculinity and classism problem, has little to no regard for other’s well being, and a bunch of other shit. For as distressed as he was over Anthony’s death, a lot of it was because it left their family even more dysfunctional. To him it was Anthony abandoning everyone because they weren’t worth enough to keep him going and then in return he continues to be praised and talked about so wonderfully as if he never did anything wrong “just because he’s dead”.

Thats just BEFORE Arackniss died too! AFTER dying shit got even worse to the extent he ended up even getting disowned! How fun!! This part delves more into Husk and his backstory as well which I think I may save for another time, but these guys know each other and have a lot of beef and also simultaneously are kind of chill in an odd way? By the way, Angel also has the big neck puff, he just shaves it because he doesn’t like the look and like association from trauma

[bloop-bl00p]

Rewriting Sir Pentious justice for the snake boie

Doesn’t anyone find it weird how we’re gonna have the backstory of everyone in later seasons?

Not only do they hardly follow the redemption aspects but they also give us little to nothing about the characters. I can buy that Heaven is corrupt and/or unfair but rather than having Adam throwing curse words and profanities every five seconds, why not show it in elements of the main cast backstory?

Reveal that they were essentially in unjust situations where they had no other choice but sins to survive, the type of stories that’ll make the audience think “Is Heaven fair in its judgment?” then you have the reveal that the system is corrupted. It feels like common sense to me.

Anyway, Sir Pentious wasn’t that much of an asshole in my rewrite, we understand why he acted the way he did but he still fucked up.

Madhav Karmakar was born in 1858. He was an Indian migrant in England who wanted to follow a partnership in engineering. Studying hard and else he worked ten times harder than the other students due to prejudice regarding his origin.

He made his way into a prestigious university and went out with his diploma ready to show off his skill but generally still faced racial discrimination. Throughout his life, Madhav had to do everything in his power to completely suppress anything that tied him to his country, fully adopting British mannerisms and culture, suppressing his accent, and else. At 17, he became an apprentice and started studying Mechanical Engineering, ending officially his studies at 24.

His hardship allowed him to work alongside others to develop steam machines and various ways of transportation. Despite having clearly mastered, and even ameliorated his domain, Madhav still had fewer opportunities compared to his colleagues and was paid less than the other regardless of the amount of work he put in.

What was first jealousy due to the unfairness of his situation quickly became Envy directed at his white counterparts. He started slowly destroying the reputation of his associates mostly by secretly sabotaging their work in various manners, introducing faulty designs, tampering with documentation, sabotaging equipment and tools, and anything really just to make himself feel better.

It lasted for years until one of his sabotages cost him his life. In 1888 at 30 years old, he caused one structure to collapse and the debris fell on him breaking his legs, he died screaming for help under the remains and suffocated because of the dust.

A few years following his arrival in Hell, he used his ingenuity to create steampunk-style machines in order to conquer territory. Problems, most of the lands were already owned by powerful Overlords. Madhav overestimated his inventions a lot so he got his nonexistent ass beaten all the time. He even gained the nickname Sir Pretentious though he still tries and insists on being called by his real surname (nobody does.)

The dude persisted, gaining the reputation of the village fool. Surprisingly for everyone he finally managed to get his hand on a very small portion of a territory… only for it to be snatched away by a punk rookie a week later. It would be easy for any Overlord to step up but they have their own business to take care of and some find it funny to see those two quarrel all the time.

Bit of a fun fact:

→ If I had to redesign him, he’d be fit with a large figure, we’re talking of the man who built this alone…

.. I doubt the egg boys can lift things too heavy considering they are fragile. So yeah, Madhav isn’t a twink.

→ The egg boys aren’t literal eggs just small mechanical robots he built to be his minions, if they were to break they’ll be gears everywhere but he could still rebuild them later. He wishes he could make them a bit smarter.

→ Snakes are very often associated with lies and manipulation and everything related to it. That’s what Madhav has been as a human, an envious liar. But, snakes can also symbolize renewal and rebirth in other cultures, and since he’s gonna be the first redeemed it kinda fits. I don’t know if Viv knew this but shout out to her if she did.

→ Keeping the romance with Cherry, I can appreciate a really good Enemy to Lover but the way it was framed feels like Cherry only got interested when she learned he had two dick, which feels icky and disingenuous.

So, I thought of slowly making their relationship more of a “Are they fighting or flirting” type of thing. That and having Cherry make comments between their fight like “You’re getting better at this!” which flatters Madhav because he never really had recognition for his fighting skills or invention.

He’s still a bit stuck in the old-timey way of courtship, and considering those things could last 3 to 4 years, with him you can expect the slowest slow burn possible. Anyway, he still respects lots of British traditions, being a regular correspondent and sending letters and gifts. I can see him asking to go on a walk or organize Rendez-vous to learn more about Bomb when his rivalry gets more friendly.

→ His obsession with fighting Alastor comes from the fact that he didn't manage to get up the stairs as quickly as the deer did. So he’s envious and seeks to beat Alastor in a battle to prove he’s the superior one, but he loses every time. His last chance is to side with the Vees, but Vox doesn't even bat an eye when he is near. So just imagine how ecstatic he was when Vox proposed to him to be a spy. While the first weeks were fine, he found himself getting attached to the staff more and more. It was a genuine environment where few people actually recognized him as the brilliant engineer he was (I thought he could actually help with the hotel construction since the building is old and all) and they actually called him by his name.

Not siding with Vox will be the first step to his redemption, renouncing to act of his envious feelings and focusing on what he already had rather than seeking to destroy those above him.

→ His lisp gets worse when he’s lying, he obliviously maintains a whole evil British persona in his quest for respect so as he slowly starts to get genius he’ll slowly start to speak with more ease.

→ Regarding how he’ll appear once in Heaven, he’ll be a human. I find it strange that you don't get to get your human appearance once saved. Viv said it herself, the reason why sinners look like that is because their appearance is in correlation with their sins, life, and the ways they die. It’s a way to mock them.

If this dude or girl gets redeemed, they’ll stay on a couch and that’s just sad, imagine you die go to Hell redeem yourself and you're still a furniture. Anyway, Madhav will get his human form back but with hints of his demonic form.

Kinda like Lovesart23 you should go see her videos and rewrite.