Finished piece of @drop-of-void’s story line of Simon from Iron Lung and a cosmic being that is actually us, the reader! I am going off of the creator’s interpretation of what the reader would look like in their original form, but they encourage you to come up with your own interpretations with the description of the character!
So please go have a look at their stuff when you get the chance to! (Just fair warning, there is spoilers on their blog and further in this post I’m about to say. Oh, also there is the possibility of some 18+ posts that you might find so minors, do not interact with this account. I mean it!)
Now just for some little details I put in:
- There is a red star in the far right corner that is meant to symbolize that the moon that Simon was on before he was saved. It’s also meant to symbolize that the creature that was chasing him is still watching him, albeit more wary now cause the reader fought them off.
- When stressed, humans have a hard time keeping their body from acting up, so I decided to added grey/white hair strands to Simon’s hair, along with the eye bags cause of his nightmares.
- The scar on Simon’s left arm is meant to symbolize a marking I found from one of Void’s uploads as the post’s icon, so I added the star like shape to some of the other minor scars Simon got from being mutated by the blood of the Blood Ocean. This was after the reader had reversed the effects, hence the star shape.
- When the reader’s tendrils touch Simon, I imagined them a bit like a mood ring, certain colors forming in response to the new feelings said reader was experiencing. It’s also meant to call back to one of the posts about Simon being touch starved, and the reader really starting to like physical touch.
- While I was making the stars and galaxies on the reader, I got reminded how long ago Markiplier thought space was cool (and if In Space with Markiplier and his recent movie doesn’t show that, I don’t know what will). Not really something important here, but I just wanted to give some “did you know facts” since some of y’all might not know who Mark Fischbach is.
genres: one-shot, modern fantasy, magical girl, reverse isekai
Wo/yrm is a One-shot that offers a glimpse into the daily life of Maelynn and her aunt, Amari, as they settle into a new routine with their impromptu roommate from another world. Reyna doesn't belong here, but with no other options they'll try to make it work.
This story is meant to be a standalone that takes place sometime during the events of Children of Dragonfly, a future, long form comic I am currently working on. It serves as a proof of concept as well as a brief introduction to the main characters, their dynamic, and their magic powers.
Please, except my humble offering /o/ I could not get this scene out out of head! I am absolutely obsessed with this entire interaction and could write a five page ramble about it ♡ I wanted to add all of this scene and include Isaac, but I do not have the time, sadly. Even with reusing art, it still took a hot minute to get this done. RIP
My internal scream of happiness when I saw this can't be put into words. Not just art, but a comic?
I already know my readers are the best, but seeing that you not only spent time on the story, but also poured your emotions into your art, portraying the moment so beautifully and doing it justice?
It means more than I can put into words.
I also can't help but comment on how great your storytelling skills are! The darkness [black background] surrounding the MC's expression and her inner thoughts, contrasted with the "reality" [white background] she shares with others; her expression, the panel with her injured hand and her thoughts... all of it is captured so perfectly and fits the moment so well. You did such an amazing job in such a short amount of time!!!
Thank you for sharing this and making my day. I'll save these two pages with your other artwork that I occasionally look at from time to time and cherish forever, because it truly warms my heart and means so much to know someone feels my story is worth their time and effort to turn into art.
Decided to write my take on how my Builder came to Sandrock and how she met Logan. Least to say, they left quite the impression on each other. Side note, my builder is meant to be seperate from the one in canon and doesn't have the same background/parents. Not that it matters here.
Devy was washing her hands when a high-pitched screech broke what was otherwise a peaceful ride on a rattling train. Said train then jolted to a rough stop that nearly knocked her off her feet.
She had taken a quick bathroom break after she accidentally caught the eye of a blonde wearing a light purple jacket — the style of which she recognized to be popular in Atara. Worse, the way he had been talking to the other passengers up until then screamed "reporter". Not the kind of man she wanted to deal with.
But, judging by the booming voice demanding everyone to put their hands up, a man she wanted the deal with even less had forcibly boarded. She quietly grabbed her shealthed daggers from where she had hung them from a hook and made quick work of belting them around her waist. Taking one in hand, she risked a peek out the door to confirm that yes, he did have his back to her, and yes, he was waving around a gun. His white hair was pulled back into a short ponytail that barely poked out from under his horned yakboy hat — just as it was depicted in his "Wanted" posters that were plastered all over the complimentary newspapers.
Logan.
She didn't give him much more consideration before charging him. He whipped around on her and shot the dagger out of her hand, but that wasn't enough to make her falter. She still had one more dagger left and aimed the pommel at his head. He managed to side step her in the limited space, making her slip right past him. Still, she gained ground on him, and now wasn't the time to hesitate. The two exchanged a flurry of blows before the bandit managed to regain his footing and caught her kick. He used her leg as leveraged to swing her down on a seat and nearly knocked the breath right out of her.
She wasn't allowed time to regain her bearings before the telltale click of a hammer being drawn back sounded. He had his gun trained on her with an intimidating steadiness. "What did I just say? Hands up!"
Devy looked between that searing gaze and the gun, then slowly raised her hands above her head. The instant she saw a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, however, she kicked at the gun and made to lurch at him, but a loud pop followed by a puff of smoke put a halt in any further plans of attack. She coughed, her eyes stinging from getting hit with a smoke bomb. Another shot went off, glass shattered, and a gust of wind cleared the air in time to see another figure rush to a now broken window, cursing two, fading silhouettes gliding into the canyon that boarded the city-state of Sandrock.
Somehow, Devy didn't think this was what people meant when they said she would know when she was passing through.
"So you're telling me you didn't see anything?"
Apparently, there were two guys that were robbing the train, and the third guy that arrived in the middle of the smoke bombing was the captain of the local Civil Corps. After introducing himself as "Justice" and "the sheriff around these parts", he gathered all the newly stranded passengers for questioning inside the barely-standing Sandrock train station. They managed to creep the train forward enough to make the stop, but it couldn't reach top speed with the window broken. Not without running the risk of someone getting sucked out of it anyway, which meant they weren't going anywhere anytime soon.
"I saw a fire in that man's eyes... a burning desire for vengence that sent chills through my very essence!"
Sandrock was located pretty much in the middle of the Eufaula Desert. Built around the Mertle Oasis, it was a shabby little town not far from the train tracks covered in dirt and sand. What little greenery there was struggled beneath the oppresive heat. Even under what counted as shelter around here, Devy felt over dressed in her red leather jacket, but her brimmed hat at least offered some protection from the glaring sun.
"Alright pal, did you see anything that would hold up in the court of law?" They all turned to Devy who was doing her best impression of a decoration left in the corner. Honestly, she kind of just hoped they would've forgotten about her in all the excitement. "Right, our valiant vigilante. How could I forget? Come over here for a sec." It would be more trouble for her if she didn't do as he said, but she wasn't going to like it. "Come on now, don't be shy. I just wanna ask you a few questions. Let's start off with a simple one. What's yer name?"
"Devyn. I usually go by Devy," she said.
"Alright Devy, what made you want to take on the most infamous bandit in these lands?"
She shrugged. What was she supposed to do? Let everyone get robbed?
"Okay... well, you must have saw something that riled you up.
"The gun."
"That's uh... perfectly reasonable. So... where did you learn to fight like that?"
"My Ma."
Realizing he wasn't getting anywhere with this line of questioning, Sheriff Justice shifted his attention. "So let me get this straight. None of ya'll saw him take anything ? Nobody got robbed?" The passengers shared a look amongst themselves, but none of them stepped forward.
"No! That young lady got to him before he could do anything to us," a woman pipped in. "And thank the Light too!"
"I was coming out of the bathroom when it happened," Devy offered. "I didn't see the second one until they were already out the window."
The sheriff whistled. "That was some quick thinking. I guess that's all for now. While yer here, stop by the Blue Moon Saloon. Owen can hook ya'll up with some food and board while we get this train situation... er... situated."
Painted a surprising blue color with a rickety wooden stage on the side of it, the mentioned saloon could be seen from the dusty windows. A welcoming enough place with a bright, cresent moon sign over the shaded porch. The responding murmurs weren't entirely passified, but Devy knew an out when she saw one. She quickly took it even as that purple jacket guy stopped the sheriff for questions of his own. Reporter. She pegged him right. She paused outside, debated whether or not the heat was worth braving for a bite to eat, and ended up catching a conversation that piqued her interest.
"A week?! What do you mean it's going to take a week?" Standing in front of the shattered train window was a man dressed in an ugly suit with an ill-fitting blazer that definitely set him apart from the rest of the town. Well, from what she saw of it anyway. The same with the girl he was talking to; she didn't dress like a local either.
"Between the lifts and all of the commissions you also have me doing, all of my machines are full! If I run them any harder, they'll overheat."
"I don't want to hear your excuses, Newbie! How hard can it be to patch up a train window, anyway? I'm sure you can fit it in if you actually tried. But if you don't want to do it so badly–"
"No, it's not that at all!"
On one hand, patching up a window would be quick. The resources wouldn't even be that difficult to get a hold of either. Not around here. On the other hand, it sounded like the one available builder they had was already tied up. Did she say she was working on a lift?
"I can help," Devy said, approaching the two.
The man turned to her, giving her a good look at a bushy mustache. "Oh, can you now? I don't know where you blew in from, but around here, you need a builder's lisc–" Devy shoved her's in his face before he could finish grating on her nerves.
"As luck may have it, I just finished my contract in Highwind. I was headed back to Aterra, but I can't do that with the train down," she stated flatly.
"That's great!" the girl exclaimed. "I- I mean, not the whole being stranded thing. We were supposed to get a second builder here, but I was the only one who took the contract. I could really use a second pair of hands!"
She was the only builder here? Usually city-states had at least two. She heard Sandrock was dwindling a little, but she was starting to think between the bandits and their overworked builder, this place might be on it's last leg. Builders especially were important as they played a crucial role in development and expansion. So much so, one could easily tell how well a town was doing with a glance at how well their builders were doing.
And this builder was not doing great by any stretch of the imagination, through no fault of her own.
The man cleared his throat, "Being the reasonable buddy and supervisor that I am, as long as it gets done I'll allow it." She was warned against the kind of people who used friend - "buddy" in this case - and supervisor in the same sentence. Gross. "I'm President Yan from the Sandrock Commerce Guild. Happy to have ya and all that yadda, yadda, yadda."
"How much are you offering for the commission?" Devy asked, already inspecting the damage. At minium, she was going to need at least one furnace and a place to set up. A cutter wouldn't hurt either.
The way the man sputtered distracted her. "Here we are on our hands and knees asking- no- begging for assistance, and you want to talk payment? This here train is our primary source of importation and exportation! The backbone of our civil society! Not that I would expect an outsider like you to understand." His gaze wondered for a moment before something caught his eye. "I bet that reporter there would love to get a load of this! I can see the headlines now: so-called train hero strong arms poor town! You are the one everyone's buzzing about, am I right?"
Yeah, she wasn't buying it. She gave him a once over, taking in his leather loafers that were - while dusty from the sand - otherwise in mint condition, and the fancy pocket watch that was tucked away in his breast pocket. A golden chain kept it attached his shirt. She crossed her arms and leveled him a look. "Breaking News, respected commisioner found shortening his employees."
He sputtered some more, but in the end, he did make an official offer. She would've further argued over it being on the cheaper side, but there was some truth to his words, as slimey as they were, so she accepted it. That left the matter of a workshop. "The only one left is Mason's old place. It's across the train tracks. Mi-an can show you where it is. I have mo- I mean commissions to get back to. Get to it, Newbies!"
"Newbie?" Devy parroted under her breath.
"You'll get used to it. He's not much for names or anything. But I am! I'm Mi-an," the builder, Mi-an, said, holding out her hand for a shake.
"Devy," she said, meeting the gesture. "Did he say president?"
"I guess it's a local thing." Like how the captain of the Civil Corps called himself the sheriff. Seemed unnecessary to recreate job titles, but what did she know? Maybe they were baked into the town's history or something. "So about Mason's old workshop..." The way Mi-an trailed off wasn't very promising. "It's better if I just showed you."
Mason's old workshop turned out to be made up of a shack for sleeping and a small shed that he presumably worked out of, both of which could be knocked over by a particularly strong wind, but they were setup on a nice chunk of land that would allow for any operation to be scaled up as needed. It was a wonder how anyone could allow it to fall into such a state of disrepair. "Mason was...?"
"The builder that I replaced," Mi-an finished. They were just outside the gate, and Devy feared merely opening it would make it and the surrounding wooden fencing fall apart. "I considered working out of it at first, but it's pretty far away from town. I even asked the Civil Corpse if they patroled this way and, well, they kind of do. Not as closely as I would've liked. Plus," her voice dropped to a whisper, "there's a bumbleant colony nearby." As if the bumbleants cared for her opinion on them.
Mi-an continued, proving pretty capable of holding a conversation with herself, "I actually got the chance to meet him. Mason, I mean. Well, sort of. He wasn't very chatty with me. If I'm being honest, he seemed more interested in getting out of here. I know I only arrived a few weeks ago, but if you need anything, I will do my best to help!"
She'd only been here a few weeks and already they had her working on a lift? And with no guidance from the previous builder? "This may not be my place to say, but it seems like you're not doing very well yourself," Devy remarked. Every new piece of information she received on the situation made it that much worse than she originally thought.
"I... well... uhmm..." Mi-an appeared thrown off by her blunt words. They were probably the last words she wanted to hear, given how much she was trying. It wasn't Devy's intention to upset her or undermine her efforts, but there was only so much one builder could do, no matter how talented.
Finally, she took a breath to gather herself before continuing, "See, the reason I came to Sandrock is because it's not doing so well for itself- everybody in the Free Cities knows that - but I didn't hesitate signing that contract. I thought it'd be the best way for me to make a difference in the world. I guess I never considered I'd being doing it on my own..."
Devy tried the gate, and it surprisingly held up to being swung open.
"Hey," Mi-an started. "You said you just finished your contract in Highwind, right? Does that mean you're open to taking another one?"
She swung the gate back and forth, testing its integrity. The hinges creeked, but the metal didn't seem rusted all the way through, and the wood showed only minor splintering around the bolts. "It sounds to me like you're trying to rebuild a town from the ground up. That's a tall order," she replied.
"Yeah, but doesn't that sound exciting? Doesn't that sound like a challenge for a builder such as yourself?" Devy quirked an eyebrow at that last remark but Mi-an remained firm; confident that the other had at least some experience in the field. Experience that she herself lacked.
Devy crossed her arms. "It sounds like a risk."
"A risk that someone willing to face off against Logan of all bandits would take...?" The corner of her mouth gave an involuntary twitch at those words and Mi-an lit up at seeing a crack in her otherwise unreadable exterior. "You are interested!"
Devy chose not to dignify that with a response. "You wanna tell me about the lift you're working on?"
Mi-an winced. "You heard that?" She followed Devy further into the property, being mindful to close the gate behind them. "It's actually two."
Two? "Surely they must be small lifts."
"No, they're... uh... each are at least 3 stories tall."
Devi paused. "He has you working on two, 3 story tall lifts by yourself?"
"Rocky, the owner of the scrapyard just over the hill, actually commissed Yan to do them, but I guess he never got around to it. I walked in at the right time, and now here I am!" Swamped under two lifts and multiple other commisions that she had also mentioned. She didn't envy her in the least. "I figured, what better way to get my name out there than finishing two lifts by myself?"
"And what is Yan doing that has him so tied up he can't help you?" There was some sort of tank structure near the shed. Devy's best guess was a type of fire generator, but no heat was emitting from it. Assured she wouldn't get her face burned off, she stepped closer to further inspect it and found a water intake valve. A water tank then.
"You know, I'm not sure. But if his workshop ranking is anything to go by, he sure is busy!"
She made a mental note to stop by the guild later to see what she meant by that. "What's this water tank here for?" she asked instead.
"Oh, that's for the machines. Out here in the desert, they're prone to overheating, and consistently running water through them prevents that from happening. Hey, speaking of which, let's see if Mason has left behind any of his for you to use."
There wasn't even a lock on the shed door. There wasn't a lock on the main gate either, now that she thought of it, which told her there wasn't anything valuable left to lock away. Grime on the one window prevented them from being able to peer in, and that was the most protection they'd encountered thus far. Devy frowned and began wrestling with the door. It scraped against the dirt floor. Even with Mi-an'a help, it was a struggle to get it open, but they did manage. An unexpected rustling noise made them stop in their tracks.
"What was that?" Mi-an asked, taking a step closer to Devy. "That's not a bumbleant is it?"
"From above us?" Devy challenged, trying to get Mi-an off that ridiculous line of thought.
"A flying bumbleant?!"
Okay, that? That was actually a horrifying thought. Her hand trailed to her daggers as she took in her surroundings. She could make out the shape of a worktable in the gloom and what could possibly be hooks on the wall where tools were once hung. The tense silence was interrupted by the occasional sound of dripping water. She strained her ears for that rustling noise again, but for a long moment, nothing happened.
Behind her, Mi-an sighed in relief.
Big mistake.
With a sudden eruption of feathers and flapping wings, it dove at them from what had to be an exposed rafter. They barely had the chance to duck. Hell, it knocked Devy's hat clear off her head as it passed over them and out the door.
"Was that an owl?" Devy asked as she dusted her hat off.
"Yeah, our local pignose owl. Apparently his name is Coco?"
"Huh." It - he - must've taken shelter from the sun when the place was essentially abandoned.
With some fumbling around, she managed to find a switch along the wall that clicked on an old, yellowed light. The space was small and cramped, and what she initially thought was a dirt floor was actually concrete covered in a thick layer of sand. There was a wall for tools, and some scuffs from where a machine used to be. On the back wall was the old worktable Devy had noticed earlier, and a bucket filling with water from a leaky pipe. In fact, the place was full of exposed pipping snaking everywhere.
"He worked out of here?"
"I guess so," Mi-an said. "Maybe the pipes kept it cool in here?"
"Surely he didn't keep furnaces in here?"
"I thought I saw..." Mi-a trailed off and, without finishing her thought, left. Curious, Devy followed her.
Behind the shed was a furnace. Or, what was left of one anyway. Mi-an's shoulders dropped. Devy, however, looked over it in interest. Sure, it may look to be a lost cause, but it wasn't beyond repair. "Do you think you can fix it?" Mi-an asked, sounding surprised as Devy crouched down to examine it.
"Don't tell me you couldn't?" Devy asked back; in part challenging, another part teasing.
Mi-an opened her mouth to say something, then thought about it some more. "Maybe if I..." The two locked eyes, and Mi-an grinned. "I'll go get my tools!" And she was off.
"Who was that?"
They had barely landed before Haru started interrogating Logan about the stranger on the train. The one that had him seeing red. Literally. Red jacket. Red hair. He didn't get a good look at her - he almost wished he had, all it would've taken was tipping the brim her hat up with the tip of his gun - but even now, there was no way he wouldn't be able to pick her out from a crowd. Everything about her screamed "red". All in contrast to her cool, calculating gaze.
Logan ditched his gliding gear. "Don't know," he said. The mouth of their hideout looked out into a grand expanse of the canyon. It was in deep enough that it couldn't be seen from the bidge, but not so far they couldn't swoop into it with gliders Haru made from Highwind blueprints they had stolen for this gig. "But she wasn't no ordinary fighter."
"What makes you say that?"
"She baited my shot with the glint of her first blade and kept the second in a reverse hold so it wasn't so noticeable. Nearly took my head off with the back end of it," he explained. "Not something your average hot head would come up with on the fly. No, that took experience. Not to mention guts."
Haru looked at him incredulously. "Are you saying our plan actually worked?"
"Now why do you have to go and say it like that?" Another look from Haru had him relenting. "A'right, fine, a bit of a shot in the dark, but when have I ever missed?" He took out his revolver and gave the barrow a spin. Haru shook his head at him.
Kyle from the @sanguinesky-if. Listen, he's my favorite and no I won't take any criticisms. Ramblings under the cut:
Everyone talking about thirsting after the detective, but there's no way this man doesn't have a least one secret admirer (unless that was Kelly and that's why that random jealousy scene exists).
Fun Fact: I did not clock the "You're worried about Kelly" option as the Detective expressing jealousy towards Kelly the first few times I selected it and just thought the Detective was going "Aww, how sweet, he does care". I have since been picking the option right under to try and get this man to relax (a fruitless task since they start arguing immediately afterward 🤣)
(Side note: no hate against that jealousy moment, but you have to be holding some serious ill will against someone if your first thought in that situation is "oh no, is my man crushing on her?" and not "oh no, is she going to lose her job?" But I personally can't imagine my character being jealous either. In fact, Darcy would be highly amused if someone tried vying for Kyle's attention because she knows him all too well.
But if he decides the reciprocate for any reason? Pray for him.)
Kyle, wear you're damn glasses, you coward.
P.S. Sorry about his nose, the guy I was referencing had a really interesting nose and I couldn't resist drawing it 👉👈
More Ramblings
!!Spoilers for the end of Chapter Two if you take K's route!!
While I'm at it: that scene in Kyle's office is actually my favorite to dissect. Like, they're both kind of equally responsible for what happened. The Detective is the one that initiates it, first of all, but it's not entirely unreasonable. At this point of the story, the situation sounds like it will actively interfere with their job, on top of the stress of unsolved murders, and - depending on choices made, on top of grief. A lot people would want answers in this situation, and knowing there's someone who has them would point them in their direction.
But then you walk in and the Inspector is noticeably Stressed the Fuck Out. But you have a job to do and need a resolution to the problem that cropped up.
The Inspector does have the answers. They knew about the situation but either felt like you didn't need to know or couldn't know to avoid possible interference. This information is understandably above the Detective's pay grade. Maybe under different circumstances the Detective would've come to the same conclusion but they are also Stressed the Fuck Out and are feeling entitled to some answers since, from their POV, this is now directly involving them. Tensions rise and the resulting argument ends with the Inspector telling the Detective to quite.
This is, of course, A Dick Move.
But the way this line is delivered – not snapped out of anger or out of inpulse, but with a sort of disconnect that usually comes with a dawning realization, is so interesting to me.
At the end of the day, K didn't mean to say this, but whatever realization they came to, made them actively think, in that moment, that this was the safest resolution, and it slipped out. The Inspector actively doesn't want the Detective in harms way, but the Detective is acting too determined. The frustration both sides are feeling right now!
The Inspector just wants the Detective to act in their own best interests, but can't or won't say why out of this inexplicable fear, and the Detective is literally just trying to do their job but is either being judge as incapable of doing it by their offical Deputy Chief, is having to deal with outside interference who don't seem to respect anything the department is trying to do, and is purposefully being left out in the dark in a way that is preventing them from judging the risks themselves; everyone has taken it apon themselves to do this for them in this reguard! The Detective is literally just being told to stick to these strangers, even though these strangers are apart of the problem the Detective is having, and if they can't follow their orders they shouldn't be involved at all! The Drama ✨️
Additionally:
In Darcy's POV, she takes it upon herself to calm Kyle down, assuring him it's not his job to know EVERYTHING that is going in in the department. Kyle isn't the actual Deputy in Chief for one, and two he's not omnipotent. Then in the ensuing arguement, she snaps out "Because it's your job!"
This particular conversation feels very much like Darcy trying to point out he's taken on too much and is letting his actual duties fall to the wayside (I had a supervisor like this, and boy did I have to solve a lot of problems on my own that I probably shouldn't have). Whether this is a valid arguement to make in this particular context is debatable (again, this topic is probably above the Detective's pay grade, but there is an arguement to made about it directly impacting her), and it's not like either of them is thinking any of this through, I just find it interesting how these replies line up.
My MC!Detective I've made for the @sanguinesky-if , Darcy Rowe. Her first outfit is definitely more of a "what she really wants to wear". Her second outfit is what she usually wears (jewlery, shirt styled in some way). The third outfit is how she ends up dressing during the events of the story (no jewlery, less styled, more stressed). Her hair is usually up while she's at work, I just couldn't resist drawing it down. A couple things:
- Yes she has black wavy hair + micro bangs, and black eyes.
- Her twin's name is Lorelei and not only is her hair longer, but she has light brown eyes and curtain bangs.
- Yes she has chronic closed-eyes-always-smiling anime trope syndrome.
- Yes this means Kyle managed to bag a goth baddie (and is fumbling her so, so hard).
- She fancies herself as a composed person who can not only handle her own emotions and emergencies, but other people's emotions and emergencies as well (which is why I always have fun pairing her with the hotheads). This has yet to be challenged.
- I like to headcannon that the rest of the precinct finds her to be cold hearted since she's continuing to act as if her mentor and father figure hasn't just died.
- (As if little things are starting to slip out behind closed doors, like how she fought against the feds taking over her case).
- Klemmens is just the dad from Full Metal Alchemist.
- If she can't hold someone at gun point and look hot doing so then what is the point™️
- If looks could cut...
Personality wise:
She's blunt, reserved, and distant except with her sister and Lexie (these scenes mess up her stats so I don't regard anything in the stat page as "canon"). Her sense of her humor can be dry and usually taunting, often leaving people who don't know her well to question if she's even joking in the first place.
Her relationships currently:
Lexie: Her good friend and someone whom she absolutely adores (but is completely friend-zoned; Darcy might be bi, but I was never really fond of the friends-to-lovers trope).
Kyle: The guy she hates to love. He's more than proven himself to be capable and reliable. In certain situations she even finds his temperamental nature enduring. But the way he seems to be satisfied with leading her on is leaving quite the bitter taste in her mouth. More than once she has concidered outright rejecting him and putting an end to what she keeps thinking is mutual attraction, but something always has her hesitating to do so...
Morgan: They call her by her title. They work well together, but not knowing them outside of work has always left a divide between the two. Their relationship is mostly professional, but after learning their actually a CID agent she is left her unsure on how to handle their relationship going forward.
CID: Initial encounter aside, she's chosen to be dismissive of them. She doesn't feel the need to respond to them unless it directly involves work. (She actively ignores R and has taken more of an action speaks louder than words approach).
Side Note: Kyle is her cannon route but I've been exploring the CID's routes with her with a "Kyle won't fucking do anything but the new arrivals seem to be interested" mindset, which is really fun. They are all so interesting ✨️
S: She keeps at a distance but can't help but to want know what he knows... as long as it's during office hours.
I'm sure everyone has written a BG3 Tiefling Party fanfic by now. If you enjoy them, you can find yet another one under the cut.
If you say please.
Of course saving a bunch of tieflings meant crowd work for Astarion; the poor bastards were under the impression he did it out of the goodness of his unbeating heart, and not because he was given very little choice by their oh so gracious... Well, as much as he was loathed to admit it, Velvari was their leader. Despite not having a single thing in that head of hers besides a mind flaying parasite, she still felt some sort of kinship with the merry band of tieflings, who were on the verge of being left at the mercy of goblins. The moment she decided they were going to offer aid there was no room for questions. Ugh. But no one else was grabbing the reins to steer this wreck of a group. Too caught up in their own personal shit to do so, he supposed, so off to save the day they all went.
Which was how he found himself smiling out of reflex and saying whatever it was his small audience needed to hear to allow for quick departure. They offered him a bottle of wine and he took it with charm before he bade them his ados.
"I trudged through goblin filth up to my elbows and this is all I get for my trouble? A pat on the head and vinegar for wine?" he grumbled, the moment he was out of earshot to do so. He uncorked the bottle and made his way back to his tent, but before he could indulge in giving himself something else to complain about, it slipped through his fingers in one smooth action that completely took him off guard.
His red eyes flicked up to the culprit, a tiefling with otherworldly dark skin that blended in shadows and an obsession with the color gold. A color choice that matched her eyes: golden irises piecing the blackness of her sclera. With the way they caught the fires that lit up the night for them, they almost appeared to glow. Perhaps they did.
Was this the last thing the poor bard girl saw before she was torn into? Flashes of liquid gold as the claws of hell tore her flesh asunder? He didn't care of course. In fact, the subtle air of guilt she carried around her the morning after made the situation amusing. As long as that aggression wasn't turned on him it was something he could perhaps use in his favor. In fact, it was rather impressive how well she hid the body. If he hadn't smelled freshly spilled blood in the air maybe he too would have been none the wiser. It made him think. How quickly could she make any one of them disappear without a trace?
Velvari tilted her head back to take a swig while Astarion watched on, unimpressed. She carried herself with proper posture, one arm folded neatly behind her back like a war general. When she walked it was with a confident swagger and when she talked it was with authority. Yet he seen her persuade people where she could have easily intimidated — and it would have made it all the easier if she did. All of this crafted an image that seemed to appeal, one way or another, to the damned and fraying souls he found himself in company. Even the Githyanki held some grudging respect for her. But Astarion? No, if Cazador wasn't a looming figure over his life, he would've been out of here the first chance he got.
As of right now, this misfit group was the only protection he had on hand. An uneasy alliance but one all the same.
"You did a good thing. Suck it up and enjoy yourself," she said, licking wine off her gold painted lips. She must have overheard his griping.
Astarion gaped at her. "Enjoy myself? I have a blasted parasite in my head and a–" One of his flailing hands was caught and his fingers were made to curl around the neck of a bottle.
"It's rich, dry, and sharp," she stated matter-of-factly. "I'm sure someone with your expensive taste could appreciate such depth of flavor."
Oh please. If it wasn't blood he didn't want it. If it wasn't her blood... He looked between her and the bottle of wine she put in his hand. "Is this your way of telling me to enjoy the little things?"
"More or less," she said with soft laugh, and dropped her hands away from his. Her warmth lingered on his pale skin.
He huffed in disbelief. "I just want a little more excitement! A little more... fun. Is that really too much to ask?"
"In regards to you? Perhaps."
"Oh don't be so sour. I like a good time as much as anyone." As he spoke, he looked her over. She wasn't even bad looking. Her black leather top cupped her breasts perfectly, and the deep, plunging neckline showed them off in a way that was mouthwatering. The bumps and ridges between them were on full display as well, like thorns, as if to say look but don't touch. She was sharp all over. It didn't dissuade him in the least; however, he needed to ensure he had an ally in this massive cluster fuck and if it took seduction to secure her then so be it. He's done worse for poorer reasons. "You know, we could always make our own entertainment, darling. Get a little closer, so to speak."
Her long, fleshy tail gave a twitch, but whatever that meant her expression wasn't giving it away. "Maybe. If you say please."
"What?" Astarion asked with a humorless laugh. It was almost enough to make him retract his proposition. No, he can handle power trips. He can go through the motions of being desirable and he wouldn't even have to be mentally present. He did it so many times before. He was just that good.
Leaves rustled under her boot as she took a step closer to him. She seemed taller than she actually was but in reality, she was no taller than him. The torch behind her head lit up her orange and yellow hair in such a way that almost made it look ablaze. "Say please," she said, so softly it caught him off guard. It wasn't a command. It wasn't playful either. He didn't know what to make of it, and he would be lying if he said her tone didn't pique his curiosity.
"Please," he said with a purr.
She ran a hand over his chest and shoulder. Even through the fabric of his shirt she felt her warmth. She may not have an infernal engine chugging away in her ribs but she ran hot nonetheless. Her gaze was turned away from him, as if suddenly shy. No, that wasn't it. He saw her do this before, but with animals she wanted to gain the trust of. Astarion's lips parted, bottle of wine lowered and forgotten.
"I... like being manhandled," she confessed.
He wanted to laugh. Not a power trip at all. Even if he didn't quite understand what this song and dance was, he started to understand the jist of it. Their gracious leader wanted someone else to take charge in the bedroom. He knew the type. He leaned into her, a hand reaching up to touch her elbow, and he murmured into her ear. "Oh darling, I'll take good care of you. No need to worry your pretty little head over the details." When her eyes met his, he expected heat. Lust. A flirty smile even. Instead what he saw was an emotion he couldn't discern. Behind her, her tail jerked to and fro. Not quite a wag.
"You can bite me too." That's what made Astarion realize she wanted to discuss this, and what she was doing now? Gouging how receptive he would be. Oh, she was not going to make this as easy as falling into eachothers arms, was she? More than likely also the type that needed to be engaged mentally.
Weariness started to rear up. "With no tricky strings attached?" He asked.
She nodded. "No strings attached."
"Then I'll bite," he said with a grin, pun fully intended. "I'll be seeing you later." When she stepped away from him, a flirty little smirk twisted her lips this time and Astarion couldn't help but feel like he won. She dragged her hand away as if reluctant to let go, and he let her.
Keikei's red eyes darted between Réŷna and her opponent, a guy who was bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands up to guard his face. The Tielkem regarded him cooly and, as opposed to her first match where she just stretched all cat-like until the flag dropped, she took a stance that was not recognizable in the least bit. A glance around told Keikei she wasn't the only one who was left clueless.
She had her feet planted, one foot forward and the other foot back, but there was no way someone as nimble as her didn't have her weight disputed to the balls of her feet, and her forearms were up and loosely cross over her face, palms facing outward and hands relaxed. It was heavily defensive, that much was for certain, and considering her opponent was obviously a boxer, it wasn't hard to see why. Keikei frowned and leaned toward Riwki. "Do you know what that it?"
To her surprise, he shook his head no. "I do know if he goes at her the wrong way, he's fucked."
The flag dropped and the boxer sprung forward, looking to overwhem Réy̌na, only to have the first jab deflected by one of her palms, his momentum used against him to leave him wide open, and she got in one, two hits before he recovered enough to move out of the way of her follow up knee strike–
She feinted and landed a solid, fully extended kick to his chest, winding him. He just couldn't get out of striking distance fast enough. The way Réŷna grinned, wolfish, told Keikei all she needed to know; the match was over from there.
"That's what you meant right? About going at her the wrong way?"
Riwki hummed. "A feint to her ribs would've worked better. It's an impressive defensive position, but it left her sides exposed. She would've been forced to adjust either of her elbows to block it."
"Which would have weekened her defense around her head," Keikei realized.
"She has quick reflexes, but divide her attention and spread her thin, and you can break through."
Drew this for a friend l for her birthday/o/ You're gonna have to pretend they're sitting on stools and that Caleb was unfortunate enough to be demoted to a box 🤣
It's a redraw of this image I also did for her birthday 2 years ago. (Completely forgot I signed the original rip)
They were also teens in the first one (hoggy au before it was discontinued due to J****ling), and are now adults in my friend's steampunk original world, Golden City. We're now in a steampunk au \o/
$50 commision I did back on 7/23/23. It's Naruto's Tobirama x Commisioner's OC. I was supposed to illustrate their Naruto Fan Fic but then they disappeared. Still a fun experience! I don't think I drew a kiss scene before this one and this piqued my interest in them.
