#stinky rat boi

[kelsh]

Illusionist Prodigy and Master Hypocrite, Gus Porter

[slashing-bunni-farm]

I am unwell for this man

[drunkonduty]

Hello eddsworld Tom fans.

[pomegranate]

[civilization-illstayrighthere]

v and the rattler & v and his rockerboys by @m0cktails

[theeerealpunkin]

REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUS REMUY REMUS RE-

[faulty-rob]

Remus (surrounded by soap bubbles): You betrayed me.

Janus (holding a bar of soap): It’s for your own good. You’re in time out.

[unlikelytrashcreation]

I did a scetch !! Me and an @banana-zim are doing some colabotive stuff and I’m supper exited for it! But hear is a scetch of bananas and @mybrainisbigpoop s boys and my boys (probley marking crooked deals that result in life ruining injury)

[crumb]

DAVID ARGUE as Dicko Baker in RAZORBACK (1984) dir. Russell Mulcahy

[choco-1601]

John's hair is actually pretty silky and smooth and nice to run ur hands through if he washed properly

[rielzero]

Fangs

Just some musings with freshly turned Vampire Locke (act 3) Drabbles might not be used in my comic eventually but can be spoilery for future comics.

It's a little quiet this time around, elfsong inn. The party of The Absolute Adversaries (Not officially named), is going through a rest day.. But the unusual silence leaves some awkwardness in the air.

It's barely noticed by the party leader, Locke, who's part of the reasoning for the silence. He can barely focus on anything at the moment, overwhelmed by new sensations. He's curled up on Astarion's bed, uncomfortable.

His fingers are pinching down the bridge of his nose, fighting vertigo caused by the smells that presumably are his companion's body odor. Locke's never really paid that much attention to anyone's musk before, but he isn't exactly trying to now either.

''I can't stand it.'' He mumbles, rolling on his side before sitting up. Gale eyes him with a worried glance. ''I thought the quiet was rather nice, or..'' He raises his brow. ''You look nauseous-''

Ignoring the wizard, he stumbles forward, then sideways, grabbing the green little door to the bathroom next to Astarion's bed. He plunges inside, eyes darting for the barrel of water that was stored here.

Astarion looks up to him with surprise, holding a small perfume bottle in his hand. ''Dear?'' Locke says nothing, one-track-minded, he stumbles towards the barrel, opens the lid by force and submerges his head in it. ''If you wanted a bath, this isn't exactly..'' Astarion sighs and closes the door behind him, then puts his perfume bottle on the sink.

He gently reaches a hand to touch Locke's shoulder. ''Darling.. If you stop breathing, Karlach's going to freak out again.'' He strokes patterns over his back. ''Just because you can't drown as an undead doesn't mean water in your lungs is any more pleasant, the average vampire can't exactly swim. Not that you're anything like average, but..''

Locke quietly raises his head from the water, his eyeliner had begun to dissolve, creating lines over his cheeks. Its almost as if he'd been crying the past hour, if not the lack for red swollen eyelids.

''Hi.'' Is the only response he can muster, partially out of it.

''Tut, tut.'' Astarion grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him on the ground, making him sit. Then he sits down next to him.

''Do you.. Smell that? All that? All the time?'' Locke whispers after a while.

''I've said so previously, yes. I can't exactly turn it off.'' Astarion wipes some of the wetness off Locke's brow while he continues. ''There's ways of filtering it out, a strong perfume is one of them.''

Locke instinctively sniffs at Astarion, then inhales. ''Oh.'' ''You pick up things faster than you think you do, sometimes.'' The newly crowned vampire lord says with a chuckle.

There's a silence, in which Locke quietly stares at Astarion, or through him almost. His eyes unfocussed. He sniffs again.

''I can't smell the others.'' With a relief the half elf untenses and slowly glides onto the floor, stretching.

''Yes, yes, but you can't hide in the bathroom with me all day.''

''Says the one that has been in here since the morning..''

''To hide from the glares, maybe.. But I was busy making perfume.''

''I can see that..''

''These things take time! I'm very particular about-''

Locke yawns with a wide open mouth, leaving Astarion in a daze. He looks at the other bewitched. ''The perfume is for you.''

Locke blinks. ''It is? Oh!''

What could this smell be.. It's not bergamot and rosemary, not too sweet or bitter. But definitely sweet, woodsy. Soapy? Floral? Locke recognizes it, Lavender. Mixed with something else, he can't tell what.

''And the bathroom is coated in it, surely Gale won't mind.'' There's a shifting behind the bathroom door, he had been listening in. Gale had felt a little left out lately..

Not that he wanted to admit it directly, but Locke kind of enjoyed little breaks like these. No fighting, exploring, no sorting supplies, ordering people around or planning ahead. No doomsday visions, no absolute crisis bullshit. Just him, and his friends and lovers lazing around doing absolutely nothing except some much needed bonding. He contemplated opening the door to drag Gale in, but couldn't get his body to move, so Locke slumps a bit further against the wall with closed eyes.

After a short forever he can feel Astarion's hand creep under his chin, quietly pressing open his mouth. Locke's lips twitch, expecting a kiss.

Confused, he opens his eyes to see Astarion examine his teeth with obsessive fascination. Why? Is there something stuck?

Locke says nothing, slightly amused, observing Astarion's eye movement. The high elf then rubs a thumb over one of Locke's canine's smooth side, to prevent cutting himself. Jokingly, Locke closes his mouth and suckles Astarion's finger.

Astarion snaps out of his daze and withdraws his hand. ''I didn't bite you.'' Locke snorts. ''I'm not going to do that for a long time.'' He blinks at the other, who know quietly processes his thoughts.

''I was just trying to see if they're smaller than mine.''

''You're comparing fang sizes?''

''Mine grew a little after the ritual, I was simply making an observation.''

Locke could tell Astarion wasn't fully being honest. It wasn't exactly a lie either, however.. ''You look at me with pride like an artist proud of something they've created.''

''You are.''

''Okay mommy, you don't need to rub it in.''

Astarion pushes a hand to his own chest and makes a dramatic gasp. ''How dare! Watch your tongue with the dirty talk. Such heresy!''

Locke eyes the door, hearing Gale's snickering. ''Shh, I think we have voyeurs watching through the keyhole. ''

''Hmm. Wouldn't that be.. Scandalous?'' Astarion speaks in an inviting tone.

Gale quietly opens the door, bringing in a waft of old dusty book smell. Locke flinches, but is calmed down by the perfume.

''What the- Why is it so flowery..? That's strong.. By the.. Huh. It's kind of lovely.'' Gale hangs against the door, observing the two.

''Apparently that's my new musk.'' Locke shrugs, eyeing Astarion for a reaction.

''Must you call everything a ''musk'' ? A perfume is a little more.. Shall we say, fine and dandy? Dainty?''

''I thought you were baldurian.'' Locke blinks.

''Proper. Cultured. Educated!''

''Respectfully, love, I am not educated.'' Locke grins with the same mischief he's worn on his face the past few days.

''You're not?!'' Gale blinks. ''Of- Of course you're not.. I should've realized by now, how presumptuous of me.''

''Aaaand now you're just insulting me again, boohoo rich wizard tower boy.''

Astarion chuckles, but thinks about the exchange for a little longer. With the funds from Cazador's estate, he could hire some private tutors for Locke.. Should he want to learn anything he's missed in his awful childhood. At his age, he could probably really use it..

Astarion watches Gale awkwardly struggle to explain the difference between an aimed mockery and stating something that is plainly true in a longwinded rant, before he decides to cut in again, only to stop before he can utter a word.

Locke lets out another yawn, a longer one this time. ''Oh you were just making fun, weren't you?'' Gale lets out a relieved sigh, but notices Astarion's intense stare.

''Hmm, they're definitely on the more petite side.'' Astarion grabs Locke's face mid yawn to turn him to the side.

''What?'' Gale blinks.

''His fangs. They're petite.''

''He means smaller.''

''I.. I know what he means, Locke.''

''I'm not that delicate- Godsdamnit. You expecting me to chip a tooth or something?''

''Darling, if you chip a tooth, I'm going to kill someone. Can't have cattle damage your adorable little fangs.''

Locke starts pouting, ''Little?!'' he pulls his mouth open with his fingers to show his teeth better. ''I cawn bwite off swomeone's fwongers and twhoat weeth theese!''

Astarion's eyes widen. He cups Locke's cheeks.

''And you've just given him the perfect view..'' Gale takes a mental note, vampire lords get obsessed with.. Their spawn's fangs apparently. That, or Astarion really wants him to sink his teeth in him. It's a bit weird. But also.. Adoring.

''You three having fun in there?'' Karlach concernedly peeks around the corner, raising a brow at the sight.

''Just casual dentistry, nothing unordinary.'' Astarion releases Locke from his grasp again.

''..Okkayy, whatever you say. Fangs.'' She pauses. ''There's two fangs now.. Hmm. I need to come up with better nicknames.''

Locke mumbles quietly under his breath. ''Petite he says.. Hmph.''

Unfortunately for him, Karlach heard that.. And would proceed to differenate the two with that addition from then on.

Oh, the quiet days.

[slashing-bunni-farm]

He is a pathetic soaking wet sad rat, I want him

[churchstopsurgeryscars]

Charcter(s): Isaac "Felix" Gates

Genres: Pop, Alternative, Indie, Folk, Rock, Indie Rock

[g0atbra1nz]

everyone's hyping up ghostsoap as if it's not just discount jayroy

[kroovv]

Valerian deserves everything. Prettiest vampire ever

He'd defonaitly agree with you there

[snapes-wife]

Brahms Heelshire x reader

[ short story] [ english version / german version ]

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Hey Guys! This is my first post and yeah 😀

------ The english version --------------------------

In the ethereal moonlight filtering through the dusty windows of the Heelshire mansion, Brahms stepped out from the shadows, the porcelain mask that concealed his features creating an air of mystery. The atmosphere seemed charged with a strange yet undeniable connection as your eyes met for the first time.Unexpectedly, Brahms reached out, his gloved hand delicately cupping your face, and he pressed a gentle kiss through the cool porcelain of his mask. The touch carried a silent language, a mixture of longing and the haunting beauty that surrounded his existence.In the hushed silence of that moment, you found the courage to express a desire to see the face behind the porcelain mask. Brahms, torn between secrecy and a growing connection, hesitated. After a pause that felt like an eternity, he agreed but with a condition — darkness would be the canvas upon which he would reveal himself.The lights dimmed, enveloping the room in an inky blackness. In that darkness, Brahms took off his mask, his identity remaining a mystery even as he kissed you once more. The absence of visual details intensified the other senses, turning the encounter into a sensory journey where touch and taste painted a picture richer than any mere sight could offer.As the kiss lingered in the dark, Brahms' decision to keep his face hidden added an enigmatic layer to your connection. In that intimate moment, surrounded by the echoes of the past and the soft whispers of the mansion, you and Brahms shared a unique bond that defied the boundaries of the known, existing in a realm where love and mystery coalesced.

------ The german version -------------------------

Im ätherischen Mondlicht, das durch die staubigen Fenster des Heelshire-Herrenhauses drang, trat Brahms aus den Schatten, und die Porzellanmaske, die seine Gesichtszüge verbarg, erzeugte einen Hauch von Geheimnis. Die Atmosphäre schien von einer seltsamen, aber unbestreitbaren Verbindung erfüllt zu sein, als sich Ihre Blicke zum ersten Mal trafen. Unerwartet streckte Brahms die Hand aus, legte seine behandschuhte Hand sanft auf Ihr Gesicht und drückte einen sanften Kuss durch das kühle Porzellan seiner Maske. Die Berührung vermittelte eine stille Sprache, eine Mischung aus Sehnsucht und der eindringlichen Schönheit, die seine Existenz umgab. In der stillen Stille dieses Augenblicks fanden Sie den Mut, den Wunsch auszudrücken, das Gesicht hinter der Porzellanmaske zu sehen. Brahms, hin- und hergerissen zwischen Geheimhaltung und einer wachsenden Verbindung, zögerte. Nach einer Pause, die ihm wie eine Ewigkeit vorkam, stimmte er zu, allerdings unter der Bedingung, dass die Dunkelheit die Leinwand sein würde, auf der er sich offenbaren würde. Die Lichter wurden gedämpft und hüllten den Raum in tintenschwarze Dunkelheit. In dieser Dunkelheit nahm Brahms seine Maske ab, seine Identität blieb ein Rätsel, selbst als er dich noch einmal küsste. Das Fehlen visueller Details intensivierte die anderen Sinne und verwandelte die Begegnung in eine Sinnesreise, bei der Berührung und Geschmack ein Bild zeichneten, das reicher war, als es jeder bloße Anblick bieten könnte. Während der Kuss im Dunkeln verweilte, fügte Brahms‘ Entscheidung, sein Gesicht zu verbergen, Ihrer Verbindung eine rätselhafte Ebene hinzu. In diesem intimen Moment, umgeben von den Echos der Vergangenheit und dem leisen Flüstern des Herrenhauses, verbanden Sie und Brahms eine einzigartige Verbindung, die über die Grenzen des Bekannten hinausging und in einem Bereich existierte, in dem Liebe und Mysterium verschmolzen.

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