#thank you for the ask :))))))

[thesightstoshowyou]

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

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

Deliberate

It was an honest mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deliberate.

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

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

[meanbossart]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ink-n-shadow]

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

amazing wonderful stunning question, anon

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

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

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

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

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

[twisted-bunkbot772]

Shrimpo with a flame thrower

he would be unstoppable

[crunchchute]

William with a mistletoe :3

one serving of William with a mistletoe coming up. really nice idea, not sure if i did it justice. i don't know what made me give him such a tie but im not changing it now, its snowflakes i guess. and a golden rabbit pin makes its first appearance (i want to give him stuff like that more after the movie... he needs to be decked out in golden rabbits)

get on your tiptoes, he will give you 1 (one) kiss

[rollersfataft]

Buffer should meet Swerve

I think they'd make good friends, buffer is a listener and swerves a talker it works out. this was so fun to draw

[missrosiesworld]

Hi, thank you so much for your Von Lycaon headcanons and blurbs and fic snippets because you just get his character so well and I can actually imagine him saying and doing the things he’s doing in your writings, so all love and appreciation to you! And another big thank you for making the fics M4A as well!

That being said, am I able to request headcanons and/or blurbs about how Von Lycaon would act while the reader is sick? Thank you in advance and I can’t wait to read more of your writing! ♡

Thanks so much for your kind words! Having you say I've captured Von Lycaon's character means a lot. The idea of imagining how he would behave in a variety of situations is something I enjoy exploring, so I'm glad it rings true with you. I'm so happy you can picture him so clearly through these headcanons and snippets, and I appreciate your appreciation. Once again, thank you for your support! 💛

I can absolutely write about this! If Lycaon's partner fell ill, he would be deeply concerned and provide unwavering care. He’d stay by their side, ensuring they had everything they needed, from warm meals and tea to hydration. His gentle nature would shine through as he offered comforting words and tender touches. Lycaon would make sure they rested properly, following any care routines, and he would refuse to leave their side until they were fully recovered.

Headcanons for Lycaon When His Partner is Sick:

Attentive Caretaker: Lycaon would immediately shift into caretaker mode, ensuring his partner is as comfortable as possible.

With his brow furrowed in concern, Lycaon gently tucked the blankets around his partner. "Are you warm enough? Do you need another blanket?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. As he spoke, he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from their face and tucking it tenderly behind their ear, his touch soothing them gently. "I'm okay, really," they replied softly, meeting his gaze with a small smile. Lycaon nodded, still concerned but respecting their comfort. "I’ll be right here if you need anything," he promised, sitting down beside them, his presence a constant, calming reassurance as he remained ready to respond at a moment's notice.

Reluctant to Leave Their Side: Lycaon would be hesitant to leave his partner’s side, wanting to be there for every moment.

As his partner lay in bed, struggling with a fever, Lycaon sat by their side, his hand never leaving theirs. "You should rest too," they whispered, their voice weak but concerned as they noticed exhaustion in his gaze. Lycaon shook his head gently, squeezing their hand with a reassuring grip. "I’m fine," he replied, his voice steady and filled with quiet determination. "You’re more important. I’ll rest when you’re better." As the hours passed, Lycaon refused to leave their side. Whenever they stirred, he offered a soft smile and a comforting word. "I’m right here," he would murmur, brushing a cool cloth across their forehead. While his heart ached to see them in pain, he knew his presence was the best comfort he could provide. So he stood silent, protecting them from all discomfort, unwilling to let them go it alone.

Gentle Encouragement: Lycaon would encourage them to take their medicine and follow any necessary care routines, though he’d do so with patience and gentleness.

Lycaon sat at the edge of the bed, holding the small cup of medicine in his hand. Weary and reluctant, his partner gazed at him. "I know it doesn’t taste great," Lycaon said softly, gently reassuring them as he held out the cup. "But you need to take your medicine." They grimaced, hesitating as they eyed the cup. Lycaon, sensing their reluctance, smiled encouragingly. "I’ll have something sweet for you after, I promise," he added, gently coaxing. "Just one quick sip, and it’ll be over." Nodding, they took the cup from his hands, trusting in his patient encouragement. Lycaon stayed close, resting his hand on their back as they swallowed the medicine. "There you go," he murmured, his voice full of praise. "You did great." He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to their forehead, his heart swelling with love. "Now, how about that treat I promised?"

Protective Instincts: His protective instincts would heighten, ensuring no one disturbs them, and that they have a quiet and peaceful environment to recover in.

During his partner's rest, Lycaon became acutely aware of every sound and movement around them. When a friend stopped by to check in, he met them at the door, his expression calm but firm. "They’re resting right now," he said quietly, his voice leaving no room for an argument. "They need peace and quiet to recover." The friend nodded, sensing Lycaon's unspoken intensity, and quickly retreated. Lycaon gently closed the door and returned to his partner’s side. Sitting down, he softened his watchful gaze as he brushed a stray hair from their forehead. "Just rest," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. "I’ve got everything under control."

Thoughtful Distractions: Knowing that illness can sometimes bring a sense of boredom or restlessness, Lycaon would find ways to keep his partner entertained.

As Lycaon watched his partner fidget restlessly in bed, he noticed their frustration. Leaving the room quietly, he returned with a book in hand. "I thought you might like to be distracted," he said with a gentle smile, settling in beside them. "How about I read to you?" Nodding, his partner softened his eyes with appreciation. Lycaon opened the book and began reading in a soothing, rhythmic voice. Occasionally, he glanced at them as he read, making sure they were comfortable. "I always loved this part," he murmured, sharing a soft smile as he continued. With the sound of his voice and the warmth of his presence, he offered a comforting distraction, allowing his partner to relax momentarily. They were transported to another world by Lycaon's voice, as his affectionate gaze never strayed from theirs. "You look more at ease," he commented softly, reaching out to gently squeeze their hand. The tension in his partner's body eased as Lycaon's words and presence wrapped around him like a comforting blanket.

Affectionate Gestures: Despite the illness, Lycaon would still find ways to express his affection, from tender touches to sweet words.

Even with his partner feeling under the weather, Lycaon couldn’t help but find small ways to show his affection. As they lay in bed, he sat close, his fingers gently threading through their hair, each stroke a soothing reminder of his love. "You’re doing so well," he whispered, his voice rich with warmth and encouragement. Every so often, he would lean in, pressing a soft kiss to their forehead, the touch lingering with tenderness. His thumb brushed lightly across their cheek, his gaze filled with deep affection. "I’m here, and I love you," he murmured, his words a gentle caress meant to comfort them.

[mintytealfox]

*slides in*

am back buddy! also I thought of a think not sure you see dungen meshi yet but...

*holds up a chirmea! Norton*

OOOHHH MMYYYYYY GGOOOSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I had to draw this scene I just had to oh my gosh LOL

-SHAKES TABLE- OOHHH MMMYYY GGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[cerealboxlore]

(this is for the divine twitch chat au my beloved)

captain marvel, at 3am: *preparing a goat for an ancient sacrificial ritual in the watchtower kitchen*

jl member of choice who just wanted a quick break from watchtower duty: hey uhh.. cap? buddy? whatcha.. what are you uh doing there?

cap, basically hissing: the voices, they’re winning

queue misunderstandings and rumours spread among the heroes

This ask had me cackling like a mad man ever since I got it, omg 😂😂😂

There's some hilarity in Billy holding a goat 🐐 like the Billy goat, hahahahaha

This is both hilarious and horrifying, bc if a JL member saw that, it'd be an immediate report to HR or batman. Does the JL even have a HR? Oh man

Also

Memes!

The divine twitch chat AU certainly is expanding and I am here for it!

Also, I hope that goat ends up being safe in the end and getting taken care of By Damian.

[fanaticsnail]

how do I convince you to make at LEAST a part 2 to The Sword and Spear?! Cause omg I need more! I wanna know if Mihawk eats his words once reader is dressed more in the way he prefers and then just the aftermath of MIHAWK showing up STARK NAKED to see GARP!!

Please I beg of you- if not a full part then you can do a short little imagine but please at least something to quench my hunger!!

I hope you have a good rest of your day/night! :)

Wine and Warlords

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here

Word Count: 700+

Synopsis: Celebrating your victory by goading in the arms of a fellow warlord.

Themes: Mihawk x f!reader, warlords, drinking, drunk kissing, swearing, flirty dialogue, name calling, secondhand embarrassment.

Notes: This little drabble was brought to you by a couple of glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon, and by you, beautiful @h0n3y-l3m0n05. Thank you for your ask, it ate at me. Part 2 Drabble to your initial request, @sexc-snail.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @gingernut1314 @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @vespidphoenix

Lulling your head onto his shoulder, his arm draped in a soft shroud over your torso. His smile tickled the shell of your ear, a soft puff of wine-tinted breath beckoned your attention closer.

“Finally got the feral filiform in my arms,” he whispered in a slow and slurred breath, “And in such a pretty black dress.” He swayed in his seat, wineglass laying limply in his hands as he swirled the deep rouge in the ballooned base of the glass stem.

“Such a flatterer, for such a conceited cunt,” your own voice slurred back at him, smiling broadly within the lap of your fellow warlord, “Particularly one who just walked in: balls out and dick swinging in front of the marine council and the world government.”

Joining with his soft laughter, you attempted to lean away from his embrace to collect the bottle of wine atop the bar; only for him to tug at your body to pull you in closer. He reached his left hand down to collect your chin, turning your face with the tip of his index finger. His lips parted, lazily descending to claim yours beneath his own.

“Not so conceited as you may think,” his smile cracked the corners of his eyes in a playful twinkle.

“Still a cunt,” you taunted back, flicking your tongue to brush with the tip of his nose.

Lips engulfed your mouth, whiskered flesh brushing and chafing the soft skin of your face as his hands drew you in closer. Turning in his arms, you braced your hands against him: grasping his opened shirt in clenched fists as you gasped into his mouth. His tongue darted out, rolling lazily with your own and tinting your tongue with the subtle hint of red wine.

His hands wandered over your back, molding the flesh beneath his firm palms and skilled fingertips. Your knee knocked against his crotch, a moan a few times higher than he truly intended falling freely from his lips.

“Let me get the wine, Hawk,” you murmured against his mouth, taking his bottom lip within your clamped teeth and tugging at it, “Let's drink in celebration of my victory. Again.”

“Go and get it then, Hyena,” he taunted you, “And I'll drink as many glasses as you require of me to cement your win. Go on,” he taunted you, his amber eyes fluttering dangerously with an air of danger. His nose scrunched in a small twitch, his lips snarling in a smirk, “Get it.”

“Oh,” you taunted him in return, eyes mirroring a similar dark intensity as his own, “I’ll get something, alright,” you cooed down at him.

Your fingers found his pectorals, the pads of your digits circling the sensitive flesh of his nipples as you descended your lips once again to claim his. Licking, biting and molding your lips atop his, he was held helpless beneath your ministrations.

Uncharacteristic moans, whimpers and cries fled from the world's greatest swordsman as you journeyed your hands over his torso. He cupped the backs of your knees, ushering you to straddle his waist and angled his chin in a circular rotation to deepen the oscillation with his skillful, needy lips.

Snapping your head away from his, arching your back up and offering him a winning smile, you reached for the wine bottle and raised it to your lips. Gulping back a hefty swig, Mihawk's eyes both held mortification and awe.

“You absolute savage,” Mihawk praised you, easing back into the chair and staring up at you with glassy eyes: obs blown with unbridled lust.

Mischief danced over your face, your eyes holding him at ransom beneath your ferocious intensity. Leaning down, you split your lips and fed the deep, red wine to him through your mouth.

He whistled a hum through his nose, shock evident on his features as he gulped down his favorite vintage through the partition of your lips. Humming in momentary bliss, Mihawk cradled your body against himself and humbled himself to be truly at your mercy.

Pulling away from his body, you used your thumb to cast aside the few droplets spilling over his bottom lip. Elevating your thumb, you sucked at the digit as his fingers brushed your thighs dangerously higher.

“Go on, big boy,” you taunted him, snarling with a small smirk, “Show me all the ways you can please a woman.”

Horrified eyes, shocked lips and tense shoulders were littered throughout the tavern. Cadets, marines, generals, admirals and other warlords dare not spare the two of you more than a subtle glance before returning their attention to their tankards.

Not a breath was huffed, nor a murmur mentioned at the prior exposure of Mihawk's bare ass in the sandstone building. Although none spoke it, all eyes held an intense silent understanding they all shared.

Both warlords were in for a wild ride.

[aaeeart]

ur kanan jarrus art is superior

you caused me to giggle and kick my feet and lo and behold I ended up with another drawing of him pfpbfb

edit1: I was told he's not doing his shirt proud, had to fix that of course

[thesightstoshowyou]

I heard Ghoul fuckery is wanted and I am HERE for it. So this was an idea a friend of mine came up with, just a little something, so maybe it'll work for you?

Imagine you were taught to hunt and skin animals so blood and guts aren’t anything to you, so you can imagine the Ghoul getting turned on by you covered in blood ♡

I’m literally kicking my feet and giggling at this prompt 😍 Thank you so much.

~~

Red

Cooper Howard x GN Reader (NSFW-ish)

Warnings: Animal death, blood, gore, knife mention, suggestive themes

~~

The crack of the rifle disturbs the hush of the forest. Crows take flight in alarm, rodents skitter though trees, but the doe doesn’t budge. She hovers motionless for one, two breaths before collapsing in a heap.

She goes down easy, bullet straight through the heart. Clean, painless. A yellowing grin is the only indication the Ghoul gives that he’s impressed, but you don’t notice.

Instead, you’re busy slinging the rifle over your shoulder and picking your way through the brush. That gunshot will have told everything in the vicinity that dinner’s ready. Best get to cleaning before something big comes running.

Your knees hit dirt, dust billowing up to speckle your pants when you kneel and draw your skinning knife. You waste no time in cutting away breast tissue before moving on to open up the pelvis. Bones snap, flesh and sinew part under your blade, and thick crimson wets your hands and soaks into the dirt. The scents of tangy iron and musky game fill the clearing as you diligently work.

Quiet bootfalls saunter up behind you. “Well, if I were a gentleman, I’d offer to do that for ya’,” Cooper drawls, “But it looks to me like ya’ got it handled.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” you quip. Gritting your teeth, you grunt with the effort of freeing innards from the doe’s body cavity. Prickling on the back of your neck tells you Cooper’s gaze is intent upon your every move.

Pausing, you glance over your shoulder to cock a questioning brow at the Ghoul hovering over you. Cooper crouches to get on your level. “Yeah, I can see that, darlin.” Leisurely, he reaches one, scarred hand out to pluck one of your blood soaked wrists from the pile of deer viscera.

From under the brim of his hat, he looks directly into your eyes as he brings your dripping hand to his mouth. Gnarled lips part and you squeak when they close around two of your bloody digits. Your teeth dig into your lip when he sucks them clean. They slide free from his mouth with a quiet pop.

He moves onto the next finger, then the next until your cheeks burn and your thighs clench. Cooper hums in satisfaction before finally releasing your wrist. Suddenly, the need for haste doesn’t seem so pressing.

The Ghoul reaches into the bloody mess between you to wet his own fingers. He brings them to your mouth to smear scarlet across your bottom lip. You taste iron when you wrap your lips around his thumb.

“Red’s a good color on you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You watch the muscles in his jaw flex with his steadying inhale. “Let’s pick up the pace. I got other things than food on my mind now.”

[rebka18]

for requests, how about your favorite serirei outfits from official art? (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Thank you for the request,my fave outfits are the wedding ones it was one of the most susspicious things ever and i started shipping them cause of the pic XD:

[lightweaver-chosen-if]

How would the RO's react to an MC who usually puts minimal effort into their appearance pulling out all the stops and showing up absolutely gorgeous for some formal event that they were required to go to?

L would choke on their drink. Jaw dropping as they stare shamelessly. Once MC catches them, L would stutter, failing to form complete sentences, unable to look at them in the eye.

J would look away and pretend not to look. But their sharp, calculating eyes would follow MC the entire night, observing how heads turn wherever they walk by.

A would stop everything and stare, frozen to the spot. Their gaze lingers appreciatively, before being caught by MC. They quickly compose themself with a cough, acting unaffected and cool.

[twisted-bunkbot772]

Do you also have shrimpo as an insomniac?

No, never thought of it. But it is funny to think about

[boytraining]

This blog is legitimately high art. The affirmation. The poetry. The kink. I'm a little bit in love with you I think, but also I love myself a little more too

loving me is loving you. are you familiar with the roman myth of narcissus and echo?

echo was in love with narcissus, who was in love with himself. her voice was beautiful, admired even by goddesses. and so to punish her, her autonomy over it was taken away. she could only repeat what was spoken by others.

so she repeated after narcissus.

is echo’s fate really a punishment? is it so tragic to become who you love? to love yourself more because of it?

so, which one of us is echo? maybe both of us are. maybe narcissus is god.