I’m 30+, I work from home as a freelance artist. I live with my husband and our three cats, one bird, one fish. My preferred art mediums are qatercolors,oil paints, and digital, but I also am dabbling in acrylic painting. I typically do character designs and NSFW pinups, but lately more things have been added to my repertoire and I couldn’t be happier! Also, I probably drink way too much caffeine...
So who I play?
Fable Darkvale
My main RP character. A void elf blood hunter(hunter in-game) with a taste for adventure, good drink, and good company.
Acolyte Aishia
The in-house medic of The Violet Bastion. She is still fairly young, but has seen so much suffering and death from her people that she has dedicated her life to the Light and healing others.
Destira
A warlock looking for more warlock-y friends! She embraces the less ‘good’ ways of doing things, but also tries to fly under the radar so as to not anger anyone that can incarcerate her.
I have a few more, but these are the ‘main’ ones! If you want to RP or anything, DM me and we’ll set something up!
Raetos groaned as he found his way back to the waking world. He knew he was alive by how much his body ached. His head, most of all, felt like someone was hammering multiple nails in place. Only one luminous eye opened, the other still swollen shut under bandages wrapped around his head. His abdomen was also strapped tightly. He could feel the pressure of the wrappings limiting his movement, as to not aggravate what he assumed was broken ribs. The wound on his arm had been well cleaned and bandaged. Someone had been talking very good care of him.
He smiled, not having to wonder who, feeling the body curled up against his own. Tilting his head down, he caught a glimpse of the top of Fable’s head… there was no mistaking those lovely indigo locks.
“How long have I been out?” He asked.
For just a moment, Fable grumbled and curled more tightly against Raetos. If this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up. The hellscape that had been The Maw was no longer ringing in his ears, and his lover was by his side again. This had to be a dream. It was never this good.
Or was it?
The blood hunter finally peeled open his eyes, sitting up after a moment to look over the large lightforged next to him. His heart fluttered at the sight of his lover’s smile, and he reached over to lay a gentle hand onto his bandaged chest. This had been no small feat, what Raetos and the others had pulled off.
“Days, love. Take as long as you need, yeah? I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Fable’s expression softened as he curled his fingers against the bandages on Raetos. Yep, still there. Still real.
The Draenei’s smile only grew wider as he reached up with his good hand to cup the side of his lover’s face. Raetos didn’t understand much of anything about death and spirits. But Fable looked well. Looked healthy. Better than he had in the Maw, for certain.
“Careful what you say, Babe. I might ask to stay here forever,” he said, flashing his signature grin, “...wherever here is.”
It suddenly dawned on him that they couldn’t be on Azeroth. They still had to find the soul dagger to get Fable his body back… and they obviously weren’t in the Maw anymore. Last thing he remembered was a very pissed off Avehi.
“Uh… where are we?”
“Oribos. Think that’s what they call it, anyway. Kinda a hub for uh...all sorts ‘a people,” Fable glanced at the door, as if the answer would be there. Truthfully, he’d been more worried about Raetos than asking about the name of the establishment.
He leaned over Raetos carefully to kiss him. Tender, sweet, and like he’d been afraid he’d never see him again. Everything had culminated to this point, and truthfully Fable wasn’t sure what he was doing. Getting out of The Maw had been his first task, but the blood hunter wasn’t sure if he could retrieve the dagger by himself. Wasn’t sure he’d want to do it alone. Doubt weighed heavily on him, tied down by the guilt of what he’d done to get here in the first place.
“Hey, love… You got my body, yeah? I’m gonna have somethin’ t’ go back home t’ when this shit is figured out? ‘n th’ animals are taken care of?” his voice was quiet, almost unsure. Fable loved their little life that they’d built, and still worried that he’d ruined it all.
“Mhm,” the Draenei managed a nod, thumb stroking his lover’s cheek, “The tree elf dude you got to take care of the animals while we were away agreed to stay as long as needed. I think we owe him a really REALLY big tip. Obligation and Responsibility really seems to like him, though, so don’t have to worry about them. Did you know he lived in that big ass tree that the Horde burned down? That’s where he got all the scars. Poor guy… Anyway, I was able to find your body at the dig site after going through your maps and stuff. Brought it to the healer chick that was deployed to Darkshire with me. You’re in a coma-like state back on Azeroth, and she’s keeping you nourished and stable until we manage to destroy that dagger.”
He paused in his rambling for a moment, knowing the next part was a bit touchy.
“Hey… uh… on that subject. Bad memories, I know. But like… anything you can tell me about the lady that stabbed you… physical description or name… if she gave you one…”
Another pause before adding.
“Was she hot? She must be hot.”
“Well, yeah… I mean it ain’t like I got bad taste,” Fable smirked, then paused a moment. “Wait, tree… They’re called Kal’dorei.”
The news of his body being taken care of was something of a relief, though the blood hunter still didn’t like the situation at all. Cebina had royally screwed him, and now he had to go find that dagger too? This was just getting more and more complicated…
“She uh… I’d know her if I saw her, yeah? While you were restin’ tho, I asked ‘round ‘bout the dagger ‘n souls ‘n shit ‘n this creepy lookin’ dude called a Venthyr told me ‘bout this place called Revandreth. Said a lady was there ‘n might have a dagger kinda like it?” Fable scratched at his chin in thought.
“Sounds like our next destination,” Raetos nodded, a cheerful smile on his face, “I know it’s not the best of situations, but we get to explore this whole new place together, and I’m sure we can get supplies so that you can map it all out.”
Obviously it would have been much more ideal to have Fable whole for the adventure, but there was no harm in seeing the bright side of the situation.
“Soon as moving doesn’t hurt anymore…” he winced as he shifted, “So... what’s a Venty. Not another type of elf, is it?—Not that there’s anything wrong with elves! There’s just so many different kinds and I can barely keep up with the ones I know.”
“Venthyr, luv. They’re like uh...anima vampires? Ain’t too clear on ‘em yet but I was watchin’ ‘em wander through Oribos while you were restin’,” Fable pulled out a notebook he’d obviously obtained here in the Shadowlands. A keen eye would notice that its leather bindings were a bit unlike any leather on Azeroth.
The first few pages were sloppy, slightly disproportionate sketches of the various different types of people he’d seen wandering through, along with notes of things he’d either overheard or asked them flat out. The page with the Venthyr man had no notes, however. Clearly, the hunter hadn’t approached him.
“They got fangs ‘n glowin’ eyes kinda, most of ‘em are real skinny. Nice clothes though, ‘n some of ‘em wear thigh high boots. Thinkin’ maybe I should get a pair?” the elf chuckled, leaning to stretch his leg out as far as he could, toes pointed.
“Babe, you would look hella amazing in those boots,” the Lightforged agreed, “Are there any with heels? If so, you should avoid them, because then, your already sexy ass will just look too good for me to resist. Afraid you won’t get anything done in that case.”
His hand slipped down to give his partner’s behind a little squeeze, before he attempted to sit up. It was a more daunting task than anticipated with his injuries, but he managed.
“Fashion sense aside, are these Venthyr people safe? The one you drew has like… an evil look to him. Or are they all that withered looking and ugly? Also, what’s anima? And what are the lampshades with legs that you drew in there?”
A smirk spread on his lips at the squeeze, but his attentions to the affections were pulled away when Raetos was trying to sit up. Fable assisted, but his brow furrowed in worry. Had his lover been hurt worse than initially thought? Damn it all, now he was fretting like a mother hen. The lampshades comment pulled the hunter out of his head though, and he just blinked for a moment before tilting the book towards him.
“The lampshades with legs? Oh, those?” Fable pointed at one of the doodles of a Broker. “They call themselves Brokers. They help facilitate trade of goods and services. Information too, ‘m sure. Ain’t got a chance to really chat jus’ yet.”
The concern crept up onto the elf’s face again, and he leaned over to kiss Raetos’ cheek.
“You doin’ okay? If you gotta rest…”
Raetos shook his head.
“Nah, just sore is all. The headache is the worst part, probably. Dude, Avehi hits -hard-! Did you see how pissed she was? Ha! Good times!”
He smiled brightly to his lover, bringing his hand up to cup the side of his face again.
“Honestly, I’ve rested plenty. I just want to look at you,” he admitted, “I missed you so much, Bae… so don’t mind if all I want to do is cuddle and make out for a while.”
He paused, before adding with a wink.
“Wouldn’t hate a blow job either.”
The elf just smiled. That sappy, sweet, completely enraptured smile as he nuzzled into Raetos’ hand. It had felt like an eternity, fighting for his life. Being reunited had been on his mind the whole time, but even now Fable’s heart ached for the life they’d had before. Though, in the middle of his thoughts, a smirk broke through. That was the Raetos he knew.
“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t…” Fable turned his head to place a kiss in the palm of Raetos’ hand. “If it won’t hurt you, I’m gonna swallow you whole…”
“I mean… not like I can move much in these bandages,” he grinned, running his thumb along Fable’s bottom lip, “Doubt I’d be able to find a way to hurt myself.”
He paused as he thought about that a moment.
“—Okay, so I would -probably- find a way to hurt myself. But it would be hella worth it, though.”
Fable caught Raetos’ thumb between his lips, cerulean eyes closing as he pressed the barbell through his tongue against the calloused pad. A promise. As his lover spoke, the elf savored the taste of his flesh, finally opening his eyes to look up at him with a smirk. He released the thumb after a moment only to place a kiss into Raetos’ palm.
“Jus’ sit back ‘n enjoy then. You deserve t’ be worshipped,” he mumbled against the blue skin, continuing to kiss down from his hand to his wrist. Of course, he’d wait for permission.
It felt like lifetimes since he’d been away from Raetos, and only minutes that they’d been back together again. Fable felt that familiar skin hunger, but it had only gotten stronger after they were in safety, and he could touch and smell his lover again. The blood hunter had to remember to pace himself; Raetos was still recovering, and they were still in a strange place. But tomorrow could wait. Tonight belonged to them.
Daisies are most often used to symbolize purity and innocence.
~*~*~
Who’d ever thought Brent, an ex-cultist and assassin, would ever be associated with the words above? But the friendship he shares with Hyacinthe brings about just that. The Bard started off as his apprentice in archeology, and their cheerful yet respectful demeanor somehow manages to pull the rogue out of his seeming constant state of pouting and gloominess. An impressive feat not achieved by many.
Hyacinthe ( @20poundsoftrouble ) belongs to @darkestfable . You can check out and support their lovely artwork here.
Brent ( @brent-sunborn ) belongs to @thefugitivemango . You can check out and support his awesome writing here.
If you're going to accuse people of harassing you, maybe come up with some actual proof? Screen shot that shit if it's ongoing and post it. FYI, if they're not trying to contact or interact with you IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM, then they aren't harassing you.
Wy'nora jumped as Brent stepped out of the shadows before her. One hand brought up to her chest, as if to still her startled heart. The other sparked momentarily with an arcane flame, extinguishing just as quickly. She exhaled a sigh of mild relief, laying eyes on Brent. The eyes lingered, looking him over for the first time since his transformation.
“–By the Sunwell… I didn’t think you could look any more broodingly aloof, Brent.” she nodded, lips playing at a smirk. “I miss you with the shorter hair, honestly.”
“Candid as ever.” Brent quipped back, pulling his mask down. “Call on some of that candor and tell me why I’m here.”
“–Ooh, and a beard, too? Influence from your new Dwarven friends, I imagine.”
“Nora.” he huffed.
She waved a dismissive hand, chuckling lightly to herself. The warmth was second nature to her, playful but sincere. But in the moment, it felt forced; pushed out to compensate for her uncertainty. It kept Brent on edge.
“I’ll explain when the others arrive. Or are you leading me to them?” she asked, crossing her arms loosely over her chest.
“Others?” Brent asked, brow askew.
“–Oh tsk, you can play, but I can’t? The others, Brent. Kai’eka, and Thea. This is for all of you.” she elaborated. “Where are they? I know Kai must be lumbering about somewhere. And dearest Thea… I haven’t seen her in so long.”
She smiled a hopeful smile, at the prospect of seeing Nepen’thea again. And she did little to hide it, too. Concerned and anxious as she seemed before, the thought of a reunion with her old friend was overpowering any fear she had, and immediately took the forefront of her demeanor. It was too raw, too sincere an expression to be fake or falsified. And even then, Brent knew Wy’nora would never utter Nepen’thea’s name as a tool of any matter of ruse.
She just didn’t know.
Brent Sunborn gets a summons from an old friend of the Coterie’s– Wy’nora Emberglade, a contact of no small repute among the Reliquary. But before she gifts him with much more than he expected, he has to bear some devastating news… They are The Few Remaining!
You can read the whole thing, and other stories I’ve written, over on The Observer’s Archives, but be warned– this one in particular is a saucy NSFW story for Patron eyes only! If it piques your interest, your support would be greatly appreciated! If not, I guess you’ll never know how it unfolds…
Still! Feel free to read other SFW stories on the site!
[[ @nepenthea for mention. Miss you, friendo <3 ]]
My muse has to tell nothing but the truth for 10 asks.
Ask them funny questions, get personal, query about the people around them or pester them for their deepest darkest secrets - go wild! Include ✘ with the asks!
Red: What type of writer’s block do you experience the most?
More often than not it’s when I try to force a story. I tell myself “I haven’t written in a while, I should finish this.” and it is like pulling teeth. It never turns out how I want it, but waiting is difficult.
Yellow: What’s a common writing tip that you mostly ignore?
“Write something every day” is one that I almost never follow. Some days are just too busy, or I can’t be arsed to do something that I don’t feel creative enough to do.
Grey: What’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?
That it’s okay to start in the middle of a story, writing something you’re excited to write, and fill in the beginning later. Inspiration for things comes and goes, after all. Best jump on it while it’s hot!
