#inky is alive

[inkyquince]

Commission: Remy’s Journal 

Content warning. Non to Dubcon, Cow TF, male reader, Remy is a cockslut and a liar even in his own diary. Based somewhat on this QKS. This was a kofi commission for @letstalktea! Thank you so much!

There was an in-joke around the estate that had become a universal law. Remy’s Journal was the one book in the entire town that was filled with the most detailed truth known to man or beast. Every new bull, every new cow, their measurements were taken and written down. How much milk they produced. How fat their tits were, how hefty their cock was. Everything down to each freckle, mole or scar. Wren always joked that you could play Guess Who with it and would win each time, just from how detailed it all was. 

Remy found all the whispers about his beloved notebook quite… Humorous. It earned a small, upwards flick of his lips but that was it. It was indeed the truth, that his written word was nothing but the truth. 

…

Entry 147.

The newest bull is very well endowed, with genitals that show great promise to provide cream. Sadly, the reason we have no samples in the cylinders that we send out to samplers to taste and rate, was because he was simply too worried to perform in front of me, but since it’s his first week, we’re instead going to give him time to become accustomed to his new life before seeing how much we can sample with the untrained bull. 

“You’re quite a pretty thing for a bull, aren’t you?” Remy murmured, low and throaty, excitement barely hidden in his voice. 

You could only moo, your thighs shaking in the strange contraption he had trapped you in. Your human brain could faintly remember when your class went on a field trip to a farm and you lagged behind to watch a poor cow-girl be trapped in a weird insemination cage and this… Big, hung guy walked behind her and started to press into her. You were quickly yanked away, but no one was here to save your poor eyes… Or your poor body now. 

His gloved hand was…. Was molesting you. The moment he saw you, there was some weird hunger in his eyes, something you saw from old perverts on the bus and one of your teachers, even your friend, but you were trapped. Trapped and transformed with a tail and ears and… And that monstrous thing between your legs, your cock having swelled to such a huge degree that it didn’t feel real, seeing it brushing your thighs. 

Remy was just slowly stroking it, staring as precum beaded at the slit, only tearing his eyes away to close them and to press his face into your balls, deeply inhaling your musk. It felt wrong, so fucking wrong. You had only masturbated from time to time, and now there was this… This pervert, sniffing your fucking cock while his own was tented against his riding trousers. 

The cylinders Remy had brought into the private section of the barn were abandoned on the table, the chart left askew and forgotten about. 

You’re only human. You do cum eventually… Which he greedily drinks down, his throat bobbing as he stuffs your cock down his throat, moaning softly into your skin. The wet sound of your swollen erection lodged in his mouth was making you moo pitifully, to which he just petted you, breathing over your neck, the smell of cum dizzying as his lips pressed against your ear. 

“You’re going to be my fucking star.” 

Entry 166

Bull 55 is still quite shy, despite all the time spent in the barn and all the personalised help I’ve been attempting to give him. He doesn’t seem comfortable with mounting the dummy, but has begun to favour human touch to milk him. Results of the amounts may be tarnished due to the Bull’s movements while orgasming. 

“C’mon,” Remy whispered against your ear, as you mooed pitifully, his finger squishing your balls tightly, fondling them like gems. “Fuck it slow, and steady.” 

He watches you uselessly hump the translucent dummy, precum dribbling as your cock was being squeezed tightly, almost strangled by the false “pussy”. You fucked awkwardly, like a virgin, something that made Remy’s stomach flip with excitement, eyes fixated on your poor throbbing balls before flitting to the sight of your stuck erection. The fat  of your hefty cock was practically tearing at the fleshlight, the seam beginning to split, spilling over the plastic. Remy could feel drool pooling on his tongue at the sight. 

Fuck, you were magnificent. 

“You’re going to be perfect for breeding and milking soon. Look at that.” Even with his admiring tone, he began to scowl at the thought of letting you mount just any cow in his barn. 

With a sigh at the irritating thought, he opened the valve in the stomach of the dummy, letting the precum that’s pooled safely inside of it, drip out into the cylinder he finally remembered to use. He was supposed to put it safely to the side but became transfixed by the sight of the mixture of precum and thick, warm cum inside of it. 

Almost hypnotised, he dipped his gloved fingers into it, swirling it around before tucking it into his mouth, sighing with satisfaction at the taste. Before he knew it, he had drunk down most of it, dragging his tongue over the cum painting his upper lip. Entry 176

I’m beginning to have doubts about how well Bull 55 will take to breeding. Extremely shy and seems to shy away from any cows. We might just have to keep him for milking but it’s such a shame that he can’t breed like he was meant to. It’s a wasted opportunity. 

“Fuck.” Remy moaned, loud enough for some of the other cows to twitch in their sleep and moo softly. 

He crammed his own fingers into his mouth, trying to muffle his sounds as he drools uselessly. Your cock was just… So good. Such a pent up bull, now desperately trying to fuck into his barely loosened ass. Your fat balls were smacking against his ass as you mooed helplessly, eyes rolled back as your cock was finally snug and tight in such a warm body. 

Remy has been edging you for days now, and watched you desperately nose at the thighs of some of the really pretty, soft, fluffy cow-girls who mooed eagerly and gave the all clear for you to mount, before you were roughly pulled off. 

All of the “breeding” sessions Remy had booked with you, just had the poor cow-girl trapped in one of the side pens as he played with your cock endlessly, sucking at your fat balls, licking at the beading precum, rubbing the shaft against his cheek so he could breath your musk in deeply. He refused to let you cum. Let you cry out and kick your feet in frustration as he let go of your cock and watched you attempt to buck your hips, with a whine. 

It was torture. The way the cow-girl obviously wanted to be mounted by you, pushing her nose against the gate of her penn, but Remy had become possessive over you. No one was allowed to touch you, even if you needed it. No one but him. 

It was utterly worth it. 

The way you rutted and rubbed against his ass the moment he got on his hands and knees, urging for you to be a good bull, a good bull who should finally get a taste of a hole. His wonderful virgin bull, after being trained to fuck sex doll and his hand, now ready to finally find bliss in your well earned orgasm. 

His knees ached as you rutted into your master, mooing wetly into his neck as Remy’s fucked open, exactly how he needs it. Fuck, he knew he was going to do this the moment he saw you. Pliable, hung bull, ready to be trained how to fucked until he can’t breath. He’s needed this for so long, and tasting your cum and letting you fuck his throat and hand has barely been tiding him over. 

Entry 200

Bull 55 has escaped, probably into the meadow, or into the moor. The men have searched along with the dogs but they have yet to find any trace of him. This is greatly disappointing, as well as poor timing, as Harper had come in the night before to hypnotise the bull into being able to mount and breed, since my reports have shown his wariness to do so. 

You were so fucking perfect, tucked into your little tartan blanket, fat cock dripping as Remy felt your cum dribble slowly from his fucked out hole. 

Remy had fully thrown out everything in his attic,which was connected to his master bedroom. He couldn’t take the chance of Harper succeeding in his mission to make you into a breeding bull. There would be no reason to keep you away from the cows then. So instead, you were only meant for his eyes, kept snug and warm in your little room. 

He gave a lazy smile, and leaned down to start slowly jacking your cock again, rousing you again from your nap. He was yet to feel fully sated, and he needs his favourite little bull boy to fix that. 

[inkynightmaresau]

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[hannahwdraws]

Just a couple of girls from The Free Marches

"I can't believe the girl I taught to weave flowers at the Arlathvhen grew up to be the 'fearsome' Inquisitor."

"I can't believe Varric didn't put two and two together sooner that we might have already known each other."

"Try not to blame him, you're so different from the girl I knew from back then."

"I'm still just a Dalish girl from The Marches"

[theelibugs]

I WANNA KNOW WHOS PLANNED OUT THEIR DA4 PROTAG ALREADY

ENTERTAIN ME AND PUT IT IN THE TAGS

[lil-artist-blog-fandoms-ocs]

Day 5 - Secret (late)

The baby and his (not so) imaginary friend

[hatterladz]

Quick theory but you think the reason Bendy's symptoms and pain were so severe is due to his species as a demon? Hat said that demons bodies were just a representation of their magic, and they technically have 3 souls.

Another point of proof is Cup had vaguely an ink attack before it was removed and he completely blacked out [or rather completely lost awareness to his surrounding more accurately] from the pain even though he hadn't even shown any physical signs of ink illness yet, but similar to demons they have a different magic system that ties into their physical forms

Maybe it's both of their magic fighting against the symptoms of the illness that's causing more pain then average

[shadow-the-d3m0n]

Rawr.

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

the real question is do i go with a "canon" worldstate or do i go with my og worldstate (my first guys of every game) or do i make an extra worldstate that has all the (maybe) Crunchy Decisions

[lorelai-l0res]

I know damn well. Some of these simps are dying over this.

[hungryblackbird]

Sighing deeply as i find myself back in dragon age hell, playing through DAI and finally doing a solas-mance run bc i can’t resist the angst potential. 😔

Oraya, unofficial spymaster of Clan Lavellan… i adore u and ur doomed romance… i am creating so much lore for u in my head that will probably get destroyed by canon but i do not care.

[neoninky]

Codename: B1NKx (or “Binkx”)

This is a piece I did simply because depression and existential garbage I originally wanted to redesign my Inky mascot to fit more closely to the “neon” part of neoninky…

this ain’t it but I love B1NKx so he needed to be created lol. Also I’ve been playing Honkai Star Rail like hella since late February cough so yay robots.

I finished the latest story patch in the game so anyone who plays HSR and wants to gush about it without spoiling their friends - I offer my open Ask Box as a safe haven 😂

[eliphasgraham]

Im seeing a lot of posts lately about our Wardens being the strongest of our characters and i agree, my Modi would destroy Hawke and Aesus by throwing his axe in their forehead before thinking about the consequences but i think we need to address how much some of them would SUCK in the other games...

maybe not everyone play the same way but my warden Brosca would be SO BAD as an inquisitor like WTF is the fade ?? Demons ??? Green vagina on my hand ??? And he would be awful at politics because he would just kill everyone..oh and he would probably try to kill Cassandra during the prologue and either get killed by the inquisition immediatly or later while running away because no way Brosca is trusting anyone with that shit on his hand and in the sky. And i feel all Brosca, Tabris, Mahariel and probably Amell/Surana would be the same ? Because the system fucked them over their whole lives and/or they have no understanding of the world outside their bubble/survival mode ??

My purple/red Hawke would probably manage to become inquisitor but he would also suck at it because he would not take anything seriously and use his influence to make his malewife Anders some kind of new sexy andraste and would just start a war with every Chantry related country for all the blasphemy he would do by using the Herald of andraste card..so, iconic, but Corypheus would probably win with all those political distractions tbh..

Also Hawke is the only one to not have that "war " type of skills ? Like the warden is good at fighting an army and so is the Inquisitor 

Hawke is amazing but against the Kirkwall thugs and one shot invasions maybe ? They are powerful but have 0 discipline to fight in a war imo 

same thing for Hawke as the Warden i think they would be bad at that war thing and they would make really impulsive choices and make a lot of people angry. And they would obviously fuck the whole crew. It could work tho i think they could save the world of the blight but everyone would be so pissed to have to call that clown a hero. Or they would just run away while Alistair is not looking and never come back.

I think maybe the Inquisitor could be not so bad in the Warden's role in theory because i could see each of them ( Adaar, Lavellan..) agreeing to follow Duncan, and they're both good at fighting a fucked up super evil army and doing difficult choices in the moment. I think depending on your Oc personnality it could be really funny to have your inquisitor in da:o but it's so specific i will let that to your imagination ( and i would love to know how your oc would do in this situation PLEASE TELL ME )

But the Inquisitor and the Warden in Kirkwall ?? Depending on your race and choices ?? Oh my god ?? My Adaar would just get fucked by everyone like he is good at being a mercenary but would be so bad in the streets 

and even if you're good at it can you imagine a qunari with his apostates/lyrium infused angry elf and all those criminal friends ?? During the Qunari invasion thing ?? He would just get killed by the people i think like a Salem witch

And for all the non human characters i feel that because everyone already hates you and there is no way you could become a noble you would probably just kill all the bad guys immediatly without having to be carefull politically or you would just never get involved because why would the vicount ask for your help if you're a qunari ?? So no way a non human inquisitor/warden could last 7 years in this city, it would be a lot more violent and faster

Also the warden would have blew up the Chantry themselves.

[inkynightmaresau]

Bendy I suggest you don't go to Joey's office Henry doesn't want you to go their for a reason that we don't know why but theirs a reason any joey isn't a good man at all

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[raigash]

Reunion

[Inky Depths Masterlist]

[I have yet to decide whether this is an entry into canon yet, but enjoy this with the understanding that it very well may be :) This takes place many years after Rosalind is freed, and is a sneak peak to some large story changes that have been made behind the scenes. Warnings for possession/mind control style whump, as well as general angst. This one hurts]

She had thought it a dream, at first. A specter from the depths of her mind, come bursting forth to haunt her once more. It wouldn’t be the first time her father’s ghost had come crawling from the inky depths to lurk in her peripherals. And to say that her sleep as of late had been fruitful would be hyperbolic at best.

This time, however, when Rosalind turns over her shoulder, the apparition doesn’t simply disappear. The gentle breeze rustles the greenery he’s lingering behind, obscuring large swaths of him at a time, but he’s still there. She recognizes the macaw feather earring, and the scarred shoulders, and the feel of her father’s presence. The only thing she doesn’t recognize is the way he continues to remain hidden. Robert Gardner was never one for concealing himself.

If only it hadn’t been so very long since she’d seen him last. Perhaps she would have recognized the twisted darkness entwined with her father’s energy signature.

“Dad?”

It’s spoken in a crushed whisper as the lump in her throat grows ever larger. That’s…that’s him. Something deep inside of her, a fracture that has never truly healed, shifts painfully at the sight of that familiar ponytail. She can feel him, can feel his presence bumping against the edge of her perception as he lingers in the treeline.

It’s as though he doesn’t hear her, rooted to the spot and motionless as he is. It’s all so bizzare, and her heart is thumping in her chest, but she takes a few unsteady steps towards him. Nothing greets the first, second, or third step. The stillness is almost uncanny, especially from a man so prone to motion. But with the forth step, it’s as if she crosses some kind of invisible boundary, and his head jerks up to stare directly at her. Pushing aside the branches obscuring him from view, Robbie finally steps forward into the light.

Rosalind is only able to process the shadowy gleam of his once-brown eyes before he has crossed the distance between them, and is slamming her into the rough bark of a nearby tree. It knocks the wind from her, and she wheezes in surprise at the vicious reception. She tries to grab at his fists, but the grip he has on her shirt is far stronger than her hands are able to counter. Panic courses through her like a live wire as the need to survive kicks in. It’s a dizzying sensation, when mixed with the equally intense torrent of emotions.

“Get off me!”She shouts in desperate frustration, her voice echoing out through the trees around her like a gunshot. The force of her fear does, indeed, shove Robbie back a few inches- just enough time for her to take off running as renewed fire flares in her father’s eyes. She sprints as absolutely fast as she can, and faster still as the crunch of leaves herald his approach. Her legs ache as she dodges stones and roots- her chest, even moreso- and yet still, she runs.

It occurs to her, in some morbidly hysterical manner, that for all the years she’s dreaded the possibility of her father having run away from her, she has never considered the inverse a possibility.

Unhindered by the natural instinct not to hurt himself in the process, however, and with far more experience in the hunt, Robbie is far faster. With her head start, it takes him about fifteen seconds to catch up with his target. He tackles her to the ground the second he is within reach- one hand darting out to grab her by the shoulder while the other makes a bid for her neck.

A cry of despair billows out into the air, shaking the trees and scaring birds into taking to the sky as father and daughter crash to the ground in a desperate grapple. Rosalind’s hands are weak, but she fights hard, kicking and shoving and doing her damndest to get free. She has waited so long for this reunion, but her fear is stronger than hope, these days. She’s had the lessons of survival carved deep into her person. It’s not as harsh or as unbelievable a surprise as it once might have been, to have the people she was supposed to trust betray her.

Experienced as he is, though, Robbie is destined to come out on top. And as he frees his left hand from her panicked grip, it darts up to join his left in closing firmly around her throat. Violet eyes frantically lock with his own as he bears down, steadily stealing the air from her lungs. She tries to writhe and jerk from his grasp, but it is no use. She is trapped, staring up at the face of the man who welcomed her into this world, and who now seems intent on removing her from it. It is her father’s face, but different. Twisted with an anger she has never seen, eyes tinted with a shadowed hue. He is terrifying, like this.

And yet, still, he is her father.

In those shadowed eyes, she sees reflections of the life she has been trying to find her way back to for almost a decade now. Laughter and joy, safety, love. She sees it all, like a window through time, and it bolsters her courage. Her father is here, but something is wrong. It’s him, but it isn’t. But he’s here, not gone for good as she’d feared.

She could have him back again.

“Daddy…please,” she pleads, instinctively mouthing the words despite the lack of necessary features to physically speak. And at such a close distance, perhaps that is what does it; there certainly is a bolt of shock that flashes across his face when the grizzled wound becomes visible. But it’s more than that. Something in the words, in the heartsick magic they’re soaked in, seems to cascade down his spine like a shiver. His hands loosen around her throat as something like confusion dawns in his face. The darkness ringing his eyes ebbs, just the slightest bit, as his brain whirs to process the information it’s been given.

She doesn’t waste the time to see if it will work. She fears she may not survive this, if she does. Instead she shoves him, hard, knocking him off balance and sending him to the ground. Scrambling to her feet as he grunts in surprise, she spares him only one more glance before she takes off running. Confusion, still. No recognition. She wants to scream. But instead, she runs from the one person she always ran to, aching muscles carrying her further and further from his side with each stride.

[Tag List: @lektricwhump @tormentum-ab-intra @salamancialilypad Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!]

[orgasming-caterpillar]

When your mother tries to guilt trip you but you guilt trip her back because you really are your mother's daughter

[inkydoc]

made yet another green-haired game character, at this point it's kinda becoming tradition lol

yes it was only a question of time before i got the hot new dnd game, so far it's very fun :3