#what is ecstasy

[froggywhimsy]

they wield a great, lightless spear, and at the iron tip there appeared to be a point of fire. this they plunge into your heart several times so that it penetrates your entrails. when they pull it out, you know they take them with it, leaving you utterly consumed by the universe.

ref below

[ingravinoveritas]

Never, ever give me any context for this...

[writeshite]

Nothing Do Us Part

Summary:

The bastard smiled at you before picking the lock and forgoing any caution. “You shouldn’t be here,” You argue weakly. Astarion huffed, the cell door now wide open; you had yet to reach out in any manner, “Neither should you,” he counterargued, “you’re filthy, bloody and thin as a rake.” He took the first step and grabbed at your hand, staring disappointedly at the cuts and bruises lining your skin. “I’m taking you home to Hells with the Harpers and whoever else thinks they can take you from me.”

Pairings:

Astarion x Male!Reader

Tags:

Long-Haired Astarion | Bhaalspawn Reader | Ascended Astarion |

Words: 1828

Author's Note:

Guess who's not dead lmfao (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ:･ﾟ✧ I found out there's a Bhaalspawn ending where they turn themselves in, and I was like, Ascended Astarion would not be happy about that.

The spawn came at first light, walking into Crimson Draughts with a curt smile; the curly mop of white that Araj had once hopped to brush her cheek whilst her life danced on the edge was now long curled trusses of hair reaching past his shoulders to his mid-back. “I need you to find someone.” His words went in one ear and out the other as Araj examined him; he was different from when she’d first set eyes on him and his intriguing companion in Moonrise.

“I’m surprised to see you alive, spawn,” she remarks. “I’d thought you dead in Moonrise.”

“Oh, hardly,” he laughs, “but I’m not here to discuss past adventures. As I said, I need you to find someone.”

“I heard you the first time, and I’m not a bloodhound,” she corrected.

“Hence my request, an expert of the sanguine arts, I believe is what you called yourself,” he fished a vial from his pockets, “I will reimburse you in as much gold and whatever equipment you require, as long as you find who I’m looking for and place an unerasable tether on said person. Understood?”

“Whose blood is it?” 

“Hardly any of your concern, is it? Now, will you take the job, or shall I pursue Sorcerers Sundries to find someone more willing to take my commission?” 

Araj huffed, “My, my, aren't we touchy? I’ll take your commission.”

The blood was intriguing. It radiated malice and murderous intent—as odd of observation as that was—the red would bloom darker colours before shifting back to red, and the odour was equally as odd, smelling too much like blood, a sharp, strong iron that piqued her interest. A godling’s blood? An Aasimar, perhaps? Though Araj wasn’t certain if such creatures bled, regardless, she had no doubt the spawn had brought her the blood of someone divine; whether said person was of the holy or unholy persuasion, she remained uncertain.

The Upper City was abuzz when Astarion returned; artisans, sages, pole-carters, and all manner of people traversed the streets of the Upper City. Astarion weaved through the crowd to his home in Manorborn, Ancunín Castle—his haven of estates he’d parted from a few patriar families—he’d spent quite some time hunting down artificers to add to his horde of spawn; he'd set them to work and rebuilt the castle from the grounds up to better suit his needs.

“Welcome home, Master Astarion,” Harette greeted him, a small bow accompanying her words; she took Astarion’s coat and folded it away as she caught him up on the morning’s events, “The artificers finished installing the sun-sift glass over the courtyards and atriums, and have begun casting warding glyphs per your instructions. The dungeons have been refurbished for the Rillyn’s children's stay, and you’ve a new bundle of invitations from other patriar families arrive this morning.” She finishes her morning catch-up as they reach his study.

“Thank you, Harette,” Astarion sat at his desk, dismissing her; he sifted through the invitations on his desk—Belt, Hullhollyn, Tillerturn—letters to their parties, brunches, and whatever else Astarion read through. He replies to them, declining their invitations with kind apologies and half-felt promises to join the next festivity; far more pressing matters needed Astarion’s attention. The Fist and Harpers had done a better job than expected covering their tracks whenever they moved you, but Astarion had come close a few times before, hence the need for the Drow, much to his displeasure. He may have been impervious to sunlight now, but the harpers had enlisted the help of Lathandernites and Selûnites, and Astarion wasn’t going to chance his resistance to sunlight, much less holy light. Astarion had been greatly against you turning yourself in; the stubborn persistence he’d usually find adorable became annoying, “If you’re worried about rampaging, you shouldn’t. I can keep you in line; I’ve done it before.”

“I wasn’t Bhaal’s Chosen then, just his progeny,” you’d corrected him, “I barely managed to hold myself back from harming you in the Shadow-Cursed Lands; I can’t—”

“I’m not some runaway spawn anymore; I’m a Vampire Ascendant.” Astarion had corrected bitterly, but despite his reassurances, he hadn’t been able to deter you from the decision, but it didn’t deter him. Some coin in the right purse and spawn or two in the right place, and he could visit you whenever he pleased, “You should leave.” You’d clung to him regardless of the venom in your words, desperate for some semblance of comfort; your initial prison had been some small nook under Wyrm's Rock Fortress, illuminated by torch and what bioluminescent fungi managed to break ground.

“I told you, pet,” he’d dug his nails in your back, later carving his name along your spine “lovers forever.” He absentmindedly traced the gauntlet you’d torn from Gortash’s body and had modified for Astarion, “I’m not sure if I should be honoured or revolted in some manner,” he’d joked then, yet the gauntlet still held its powerful magic and had been a constant presence on Astarion.

“I don’t remember much; I think I tore this from some patriar’s arm or stole it from a wizard before giving it to Gortash, I don’t know. What I do know is that I love you more than anything.”

“I’m meant to be a fearful Vampire,” he’d huffed, softening for a moment, “you make it quite hard to do so, pet.” Even as Bhaal’s murderous lunacy consumed your mind, a minuscule part of rationality remained, just enough to leave Astarion unharmed during his visits; the same could not be said about the Harpers tasked with guarding you. Astarion’s last visit was met with an empty prison and no Harpers in sight. Clever bastards had a headstart; he was almost offended by how well they predicted him following after them, but not surprised as Jaheira and Minsc had involved themselves in your transfer elsewhere before their expertise and skill were requested outside Baldur’s Gate.

The Drow asks for quite a hefty sum and a new plethora of equipment to complete her work, but she does manage, creating a tether as he’d requested; Astarion pays her for her service and prays he never needs it again. The tether leads to Myth Drannor, in the Dalelands, south of the River Tesh and some distance from Shadowdale; Astarion sneaks himself under the guise of a Harper, replacing the one he’d fed on some time prior, while he may have found where you were he now needed to find where specifically in Myth Drannor you were.

Everything was bloody. The floors of your cell were smeared in blood and dirt; the effigy you’d built yielded no response from your father. Nothing did. Pleading, crying, screaming, and tearing at your meat suit did nothing but elicit silence from the Lord of Murder. Your breaths were rugged and short, coming in quick succession as you fought to keep yourself in control of your person; Bhaal’s silence drove your mind to wander, to sing for blood; you shook your head and screamed, whacking the piled rats and punching the nearest wall. You repeated the action until you felt less like clawing at your meat suit.

You were quick to notice the pale elf approaching your cell, and you shook your head as your eyes widened when you recognised Astarion. The bastard smiled at you before picking the lock and forgoing any caution. “You shouldn’t be here,” You argue weakly.

Astarion huffed, the cell door now wide open; you had yet to reach out in any manner, “Neither should you,” he counterargued, “you’re filthy, bloody and thin as a rake.” He took the first step and grabbed at your hand, staring disappointedly at the cuts and bruises lining your skin. “I’m taking you home to Hells with the Harpers and whoever else thinks they can take you from me.” 

“How did you find me?” You stared at him desperately, holding his hand for dear life. 

“That drow we met at Moonrise has her uses,” he responds, tugging at your arm, “we can catch up when we’re far from here.” 

You followed without resistance, shuffling along the dark narrow corridors, it was luck that you didn’t bump into anyone on your way out, or the journey back to Baldurs Gate. It’s another miracle Astarion sneaks you through to the Upper City without spilling any blood. He led you to a large set of manors lumped under one estate by the looks of the courtyard, a handful of people moved about tending to said courtyard—sweeping, trimming the hedges, polishing the statuettes, and cleaning the fountains.

“Nice home,” you commented.

“Thank you, pet,” the elf is cheerfully proud of his home. The servants stop in their work when they spot Astarion, and all bow, returning to their work respectively once the elf walks past them. The interior is as lavish as the exterior—a richly coloured rug drew a path along the floor; at each side, paintings and columns alternated along the walls as chandeliers lined the ceiling above. More servants are also busy at work here; they bow the same as the ones outside and only continue their work once Astarion has passed them. 

The servants give you uncertain glances, confusion and fear in their expressions. “Ignore them pet; they should know better,” Astarion hissed, and their gazes darted away.

“Are they spawn?” you inquire.

“Most,” he shrugged in response, leading you through the halls to a room devoid of anyone else close by. His room, no doubt. “Some outsiders from the Outer City looking for a new life.” He led you to a tub and ran it with water and just about every perfume and soap he had at his disposal and all but begs you to step into the tub. It takes five cases of andanthe and shampoo to clean your hair thoroughly and two pitchers of a strong-scented liquid wash soap to wash out the dirt from the skin. Astarion picks up the skin and food between your teeth and shoves a whole stick of tooth powder down your throat.

“Is this necessary?” you cough at the strong, minty taste as the tooth powder turns to foam in reaction with saliva.

“If you want my cock and tongue down your throat,” Astarion scrubbed your second set of canines, “then yes.”

The water is dirty brownish-red when you step out of the tub; it’s strange to be without grime after so long, you look at yourself in the mirror. Despite everything, it was still you. 

Astarion draped a fluffy towel over your shoulders, “Tomorrow, we’ll get a tailor and cobbler in here for you.”

“You want to doll me up?” you snort. 

Astarion rolled his eyes, “You need to blend in,” he lightly chastised, “and I have an appearance standard to adhere to.” He huffed, drawing a chuckle from you. “After the tailor and cobbler, we’ll take care of your hair.”

“Hmm,” you nod as he dried off your body. “Whatever you say, starlight.”

End Note:

This started off as a Drabble but then we ended up here with another AU 🤪💀. The way I had to go look at a map of Baldurs Gate and was reminded how shit I am at reading maps lmfao 😭 I have read the Forgotten Realms wiki on so much for this fic. Stay Hydrated.

[chronicowboy]

i am a dark red liver stretched out on the rocks, all the poison, i convert it and i turn it to love, here comes the feminine urge, i know it so well, to nurture the wounds my mother held

[fascinationstreetmp3]

what are we gonna do when one of the episode titles in a future season is a line from the devil's minion chapter. what then

[theygender]

Still baffled by the time I (MMJ patient, needs cannabinoids to be normal) tried to get CBD and delta-8 for myself and my girlfriend (non-MMJ patient, likes to participate in celebrations without getting drunk) while we were out of state for her sister's wedding.

We were in Missouri. I was looking for CBD stores online, but all of the results I was getting seemed to be for dispensaries. I was heretofore unaware that Missouri had legalized medical marijuana, but I knew that my card wouldn't work out of state. I continue looking until I finally find a listing for a smoke shop that doesn't say dispensary and has reviews mentioning CBD and delta. We drive to the store and I go in by myself.

When I get to the front door of what looks like a normal shop I see a glowing neon green sign with the word "dispensary" and a medical cross on it. "Oh no," I think. "I've made an error. This is also a medical dispensary." Right then, a woman walks out to adjust the signage and I stammer out something about having a card but it being from another state bc I'm not from here so I know I can't go into a dispensary but I didn't think this was one but now I see the sign so I'm wondering if I'm allowed in. (I have not yet had the cannabinoids I need to be normal.)

She looks at me in confusion for a moment before my words finally catch up to her and then responds, "Oh don't worry; we're not legal."

This statement doesn't set off any alarm bells for me. "Ah yes," I think. "She means that they're not a dispensary selling medical marijuana and you don't need legal documents to get in. So they'll only sell things like CBD and delta-8. I'm familiar with this. This is exactly what I was looking for."

I follow her into the shop and ask for CBD and delta-8 gummies. They have CBD, but it turns out they don't have many options for delta-8. She asks if I would like delta-9 instead.

"Hmm," I think to myself. "I thought delta-9 was regular THC. I must be mistaken." Out loud, I ask, "Is that stronger than delta-8?"

"Oh yeah," she replies. I buy the delta-9.

I take the CBD and gradually become more normal. Later we return to the room my girlfriend's mom rented us and I decide I want to have a bit of the delta-9. Not wanting to get too high, I only have half a gummy (15 mg) which is about equivalent to my regular MMJ dose at home.

When it hits, I experience the most extreme synesthesia I have ever had in my life.

My sense of sight and sense of touch are completely swapped. I don't feel touch physically anymore, I'm seeing every sensation as swirling lines of color in my vision instead. I can't see my surroundings through the swirls, I only have a vague sense of them from the way the reflected light feels on my skin. Gravity has shifted on a 90° axis. Down is now left. The only thing preventing me from plummetting sideways off the bed and into the wall is my girlfriend holding me and promising she won't let me fall. She's petting my hair and it's making me see pretty colors. It's not an entirely unpleasant experience.

This���I cannot stress this enough—has never happened to me before.

The next morning, I do some more googling. It turns out delta-9 is just regular THC. It also turns out that marijuana is legal not only medically in Missouri, but also recreationally. So if she wasn't referring to medical restrictions, then what did that woman mean when she said her shop wasn't legal?

I research the brand and find out that it's from a company that uses the "hemp with less than 0.3% THC content isn't classified as a drug" law as a legal loophole by just making Really Big Gummies. "Maybe she meant they only sell federally legal products?" I think. That's a weird way to phrase it.

I look closer at the site. The label on the package seems to match a product that the company stopped selling a significant time ago. The expiration date on my bag is current. The package design also doesn't seem to match any of the pictures I'm seeing of that product. And the gummies don't seem to be much bigger than my normal ones which is strange considering the legal loophole they're supposed to be using.

Ignoring everything else, it's also the most bizarre experience I have ever had on weed in all of my years with it.

What did she mean when she said they weren't legal?

[jadewritesficshere]

Dream A Little Dream of Me

Steddie. Contains: wet dreams, arguments, makeouts. 18+only

Eddie groaned, hands running down someone's spine before grabbing their hips.

"You're so fucking perfect," He gasped out. The lewd sound of skin slapping skin filled the air intermingled with moans. "Harder," the person gasps, reaching a hand back. Eddie moves his hand to hold the hand of the person. He glances up to the face peering back at him, into Steve-

Eddie jolts awake with a gasp. His heart beats fast as he tries to catch his breath. His skin is soaked in sweat and realizes that his boxers are soaked with his own release. Which, what's more embarrassing, waking up after coming or having a wet dream about your best friend?

Eddie shakes his head to try and get rid of his thoughts. He runs a hand over his head pushing his hair back as he exhales. "Damn," Eddie mumbles," Just a dream." He slowly gets up to handle the situation in his boxers, unsure if he's disappointed that it wasn't real.

~~~~~~

Eddie isn't a stranger to sexy dreams. He's, to put it plainly, horny. It isn't like he's had much experience, just the guy or girl who has sucked him off in the bathroom at the bar.

So- horny. Eddie knows that can fuel dreams. He once dreamt he was making out with the news anchor on the local news. He dreamt he fucked a fruit once, which almost tempted him to try it.

But point is, Eddie's had dreams like this before. He's been able to brush them off.

But this dream about Steve...

All Eddie can see now is Steve beneath him. Mouth around him. Eddie in him. Every position is running rampant in Eddie's brain.

He feels like everything Steve does now is obscene. The way Steve's muscles flex in his bicep as he puts movies away. The way he moves his hips as he shimmies dancing with Robin. The curl of his lip as he snarls and bitches about customers, just begging to have Eddie's own lips pressed against them. The curls of chest hair peeking out over his shirt, taunting Eddie to run a hand through it. The moles and freckles dancing across his skin, begging Eddie to trace them with his tongue.

Eddie thinks he's losing his mind. He also thinks Steve has to know, and is doing things on purpose just to drive him insane. What ever happened to squatting down to pick up something off the ground? Now Steve is just bending at the waist, ass pressed all up against those jeans, taunting him.

Eddie's emotions are everywhere. One minute he wants to confess his love like for Steve. The next he wants to throttle Steve for making him feel this way. One minute he's jerking off, gasping and moaning as euphoria hits. The next he feels insanely guilty for thinking about his best friend that way.

It gets worse when Steve notices.

Well, Eddie thinks he notices. Steve's eyes seem to stay on him a bit too long. Steve's hands grip his shoulder and squeeze too much. Eddie can't survive this torture. Those beautiful eyes peering into his own, Eddie knows one glimpse and Steve could see his entire being.

Eddie just has to ignore it. If he can ignore it, things can go back to normal. He can deal with it dwelling in the back of his mind. He has for years, ever since seeing Steve on the swimming team- which, great now he's remembering those short trunks on his muscular thighs and-

Eddie screams into a pillow, cursing a few times for added emphasis. Why does Steve have to be so hot? So good? So Steve. Eddie bites the pillow, glaring at the wall over the top of it. Just ignore it, push it back down. But as his cock hardens, he can't help his hand reaching down and thinking, just one more time.

~~~~~~

"Okay, enough!" Steve glares, hands on his hips. Eddie has to try to restrain himself from looking at Steve's hips, his crotch. "What?" Eddie bites back, arms crossing.

Steve huffs and shakes his head," What is with this attitude? If you didn't want to hang out you didn't have to come over!"

Eddie's eyes narrow at the tone. Steve's voice has the same angry bitchy tone he uses when talking about the Worst Customers. Steve is using that voice talking about him.

"I don't have a fucking attitude princess! Maybe watch your damn tone." Eddie throws his hands up and leans back into the couch further. "My tone!? My tone!?" Steve barks out a laugh," What about yours?"

"I don't have a fucking tone!" Eddie glares. Okay, maybe he does. But how's a man supposed to act when their crush answered the door shirtless? Letting his eyes wander down his chest to his happy trail to-

"You've been a sarcastic little bitch all evening!" Steve steps forward, finger pointing against Eddie's chest," You're glaring, you're pouting, rolling your eyes. You're in a fucking mood, don't take it out on me! I didn't do anything!" With each word, Steve jabs his finger against Eddie's chest.

Eddie snatches Steve's wrist, emotions bubbling over as he yells," Yes, you did!"

Steve's eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly. The fire in his eyes dies out. "Oh," Steve pauses," I didn't..." Steve tries to remove his hand from Eddie's grasp, causing him to panic and tighten his hold.

"I'm sor-" "Fuck, Steve. I didn't mean it like that." Eddie sighs," You're just...you." "If this is the whole "it's not you it's me" speech I don't want to-" "You're beautiful."

Steve freezes at Eddie's words. Eddie can't help but continue," You're fucking gorgeous man. Your arms, your legs, you know your ass looks good. (Steve hums in agreement) A person who looks that good should have a terrible personality. But you don't! You're kind, protective, selfless. I could go on, I just, damn man. You're the total package and I can't stop thinking about you.

When I go to bed I'm thinking of you, when I wake up I imagine waking up next to you. Hell, even my dreams are full of you! So, yes, I do have a mood Steve. Because I know you could never be with a guy like me."

"Says who?"

Eddie freezes. That's...no, he must be suffering from some form of hearing loss cause there's no way-

"Says who?" Steve implores, hand on Eddie's jaw, lifting his face so Eddie's staring into Steve's. "Uh..." Eddie blinks a few times. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he watches as Steve's eyes trace the movement.

Steve's eyes who, a minute ago had lost all fire, was alight with flames again. Steve's thumb lightly traces Eddie's lower lip, causing a shiver to go down his spine.

Eddie parts his lips, letting Steve's thumb rest against them. He hesitantly licks the tip, giving him a chance to pull away. But Steve doesn't, no, he pushes his thumb harder against Eddie's mouth, causing Eddie to open further.

Eddie wraps his mouth around Steve's finger and sucks lightly. "Fuck," Steve steps closer," You should have said something sooner. You're on my mind too Eddie."

Eddie's eyes flutter closed as his tongue circles Steve's thumb. He can feel himself start to harden against his already tight jeans. Steve pulls his thumb out of Eddie's mouth with a pop. Eddie starts to let out a whine when Steve straddles his lap.

Which- Eddie thinks he's dead. Because Steve hasn't even done anything except sit in his lap and he thinks he's in Heaven. Eddie's hands automatically grasp Steve's hips.

Steve shifts forward slightly, both men holding back moans as their bulges grind against each other. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie's neck, leaning forward.

Their noses brush before their lips touch. Eddie can't help but sigh. Steve's lips are as soft as he thought they'd be. Eddie hopes it's good for Steve, cursing himself for not putting chapstick on recently. All sense of time is lost as their lips move in tandem. It could be five seconds or five minutes of them kissing, and Eddie never wants it to end.

They break apart, panting as Steve helps Eddie take his shirt off. As soon as his arms are free, Eddie grabs Steve's ass, a nice handful. He can't wait to worship it later. Steve sheds his own shirt, leaning back to kiss Eddie.

Steve's chest hair rubs against Eddie's sparse own. Steve rubs his hands up and down Eddie's front, pausing a moment to roll one of Eddie's nipples. Eddie whimpers as pleasure licks down his spine.

Steve rolls his hips into Eddie's, causing him to gasp. Steve deepens the kiss, licking into his mouth without hesitation. With each movement of Steve's hips, his clothed cock hits Eddie's just right. Eddie can't hold back the moan that escapes him.

Steve pulls back, a wicked grin on his face. Eddie knows he must look a sight. He can feel his face is flushed, lips slightly swollen from kissing. His cock feels harder then a diamond. A wet spot formed on the inside of his boxers where precum has leaked.

Eddie recalls his dream. How Steve was splayed out in front of him. But as Steve goes to unbutton Eddie's pants, Eddie can't help but imagine he may have gotten it wrong. Maybe Eddie is the one who's gonna be laid out in front of Steve.

[cancerravenclaw]

✨tonight✨

“Do you trust me?” Sirius asked, batting his lashes.

Remus didn’t miss a beat. “Yes.”

Sirius untangled himself from Remus—a travesty—and fished for something in his pocket. Freeing a silver container with a clasp closure, he gave Remus a deviant smile.

The container popped open with a flick of that chipped nail. Inside were two little heart-shaped pills stamped with smiley-faces. They stared up at Remus with an Alice in Wonderland ambiguity and seemed to whisper eat me and follow me down the rabbit hole.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Sirius said casually, pinching one between his fingers. “What if I’m trying to drug you with a love potion?”

Remus laughed at the ridiculous thought that he’d need tricks to win him over. Hell, he was a lost cause the moment he had caught wind of Sirius in the room.

“I’d say that’s already been done.”

“Last chance to back out,” Sirius said with a challenging arch of his brow.

It was the picture Eve offering the bitten apple to Adam in fragmented images of flashing lights. Right there, in the electric dance floor of Eden, was all the goodness of sin between Sirius’ fingers—a pill that offered only the most righteous of risks.

In every universe Remus made this choice, and in every one, it was the same.

All in. Nothing but everything would ever be enough.

And even then.

“Never.”

[henchthem]

VERY interesting to me that like. v1 is blue/yellow much like gabriels wings in 6-2 phase 2 fight. what does it mean.

[bonesandpoemsandflowers]

interviewer: And those relationships, both with the living and beyond the living are absolutely the center of this film.  If you go in expecting a vampire movie, you might be disappointed. But if you think about Sinners as being about connecting with the beyond-human, no-longer-living human, then it is a phenomenal film.

Dr. Yvonne Chireau: That’s the realm of religion, absolutely! Gods, demons, spirits, spirits with bodies, monsters. We don’t have to call it horror. (x)

[bitchesgate3]

My counter to the grimdark pairings of Orinth*ra or OrinxZ*vlor is that Orin is too obsessed with her art for it ever to be personal.

It's just not interesting or exciting to think of her singling out a victim because they're just sooooo beautiful and she just neeeeeeds to cut them up. I just don't see her as a malicious predator.

No. This woman could sit around just imagining her craft and working herself up into a frenzy. A complete and total belief in the "beauty" of blood and bile for Bhaal.

She is an animal that kills for the sake of killing. The cat that leaves trails of dead birds in her wake, and brings some of these trophies to you with great pride. Surplus Killing. There's so much to go around! How wonderful to be in one's element! She's made it an art.

There is nothing about you that makes you special to be one of Orin's victims. It's like getting caught up in the path of a tornado. An impersonal storm.

Stand back and witness true beauty.

[jakesguitarsolo]

so many impure thoughts

[madaqueue]

yan!childe cries the first time he goes down on you

[aqui-yace-noia]

few doodles about the session of mta that we have today. Teodosio having so much aura by 3 of arete, and 73 52 and Monkhbat (@golcorneta oc) being cute 💞

by the way, i use will power for this, but still being funny

[vulpinesaint]

said the words catholicism and sadomasochism in the same sentence to miffy a couple nights ago so many times i think it reset something in my brain

[ceramic-galanter]

is this anything