[pinkgvts]

☘︎ ݁˖ 木漏れ日 — rina／faye ꒰twenties 𓈒 she／they 𓈒 boothill & ashveil riako꒱ this is my art & writing blog that serves as a personal diary & love letter to my beloved cowboy & detective. minors dni please !

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credit — profile banner by my felix ♡ pinned banner by the lovely nick ♡ dividers by anitalenia

[pinkgvts]

i be getting drunk off beer and muttering "it will collapse" to myself over and over like someone's deranged uncle, but if he were trapped in the body of a girl in their 20s

[mypillowpaper]

✨🥟✨YCH COMMS OPEN ✨🥟✨

👆 I'm only opening 15 slots to cover household expenses.

I still have a lot of pending orders! So I can't take any more for now

Please choose a pose you like, keeping in mind the size difference between the characters. Changing that it's not difficult, but it will complicate things and delay me, creating a snowball effect for everyone else waiting in line.

If you request these kinds of changes, please keep in mind that your delivery dates will change, and you'll have to wait longer.

The other versions are also enabled!

✨🔥NEW CHIBIS KISS MENÚ 🔥✨

They're new to my catalog, which I'll update at the end of the year!! ( a new commission catalog hehehe) However, I'll only be open unti

[alyssiainwonderland]

Very long ramble about my obsession with Boothill and his revenge against the IPC and how he was harmed by it again and again.

No really it's very long. And theres more ideas to come I promise.

Going insane thinking about how Boothill was caught and tortured by the IPC. Possibly multiple times. LIKE. FUCK. I'm going to scream about it a lot I'm warning you all. I AM thinking about this constantly and the fact they actually detailed some of it. If he was whipped with a whip soaked in saltwater, they must have done other stuff that's just as awful. Maybe even implanted a tracker in him to see if he could lead them back to a base to invade. So when he escapes he has to cut into himself to remove it. And god knows what experiments they did on him. The arm, maybe, for one. But also who knows. Pain stimulus. Whipping his feet. Branding. The saltwater whip is just so sadistic and almost like they chose deliberately to match the tech level of that torture to his home world. So he could understand that they WANTED to be that brutal. That it wasn't just sci-fi level pain. They know what they're doing and want him to understand that this is purely to make him suffer, both on levels and ways he understands and beyond it. And he would never give up his crew, be it at home or when he's travelling the universe fucking with the IPC.

There's something about how human he is still, how gradually the torture and mission and pain and how clearly breakable he is physically, eventually leads to him giving up that body to become a cyborg. So he can survive long enough to get his revenge. But being a cyborg has pitfalls of its own, especially for anything plausibly with online connectivity. His fucked up beacon is proof of that. Do you think he worries sometimes, that the IPC will find a way to hack into his body. That even this more resilient, powerful form will be made to bend and break for them.

Do you think he wakes up, screaming, scrabbling at his back to touch wounds and scars that aren't there anymore, just smooth shining metal. Do you think he was so scarred during his surgery because of the IPC mostly, and much less because of his life on Aeragan-Epharshel. Sure, it was a hard enough life he might have earned a few scars there, but based on the torture and him being alone now compared to a crew before? How broken was his body by the time he decided to become a cyborg? He must have been certain by then that he needed a stronger body. He would only know that by experiencing how broken his human one could become. Do you think he wishes he'd kept a log of the scars and the pain more clearly? So he doesn't forget every single scar the IPC left him with?

I have a concept related to that which I will elaborate on later but gods, for now I can only think about how Boothill was tortured and we don't even know how many times, if they wanted him to give up his crew on his home planet, if they wanted to just make him suffer for the losses they experienced when he sabotaged them, or whatever else they could do.

All that suffering painted on suffering, layer after layer, while the IPC stands entirely free to continue their horrific acts and pretend it is benevolence. Fuck!!!! It makes me feral!!! I want to watch the IPC systematically destroyed and either transformed or replaced. Take it apart and use it for scraps. It's so clearly and deeply inherently colonialist as well as capitalist; we know it's a stand in in many ways for the East India Trading Company. If Quilpoth is meant to be the leader of their empire, it's impressive because we know that ultimately they don't even serve THEM. Not really. They serve power, consumption, greed, subsuming all and making it all into their profit.

Boothill I love you and the fact you are pursuing a vendetta against assimilation by a colonialist, capitalist entity is exactly why. One of the few, few characters who is openly rebelling against something that is so powerful and so deeply horrific. Torture and pain and his human limits, nothing can stop him.

Idk where I'm going with this exactly I just adore him sm.

[sustineree]

I had to practice his face from different angles and expressions

[seasideyume]

Irasutoya Redraw

but it's my Yumeship 🌺🪦

[peg-the-empire]

i love making friends in fandom, i love playing with our toys together, i love coming up with increasingly niche aus, i love lifting strangers up, i love motivating people to create, i love watching someone get excited over an idea and immediately running with it, i love yelling in tags together, i love seeing someone gain confidence in their writing/art because people were kind to them <33

[helakitya]

[larkspurhoney]

Werewolf lapping at your cunt and each drag of their tongue covers your whole pussy and tummy too

[mistressmalicer]

good golly bro

[anima-of-mirrors]

(CW: Suggestive, mentions of groping, temperature play)

Ashveil knows you’ve never been the sensitive type. Not in the sense that you won’t cry during a sad movie or that everything that you encounter leaves you unfazed, but in the sense that, sometimes, he wonders whether your skin is made of marble. Every tickle, every pinch, every gentle touch is noticed, acknowledged, but he has never gotten a reaction out of you. Not to the degree he’d like. It doesn’t bother him... Okay, that's a lie. Of course, it bothers him. You’ve assured him more than enough that you’re having fun, that he always leaves you satisfied, and that your body is just like that. Not sensitive.

Wallowing in self-pity inside his freezer is something he has come to see as part of his daily routine, the insecurity biting into him as much as the shadow in his arm. That is until light suddenly floods his eyes. After a few seconds of annoyed blinking, those grey eyes focus, and he stares into the cheeky expression of you, bent over him.

"Good afternoon, you sleepyhead!" You greet him cheerfully, taking a few steps backwards so he can get out of the big metal box. "I'm always surprised that you get cases at all when you lay in here like a corpse most of the day..."

With an annoyed moan, he gets up and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm too old to work early in the morning. Most crimes happen at night anyway."

"You still don't look a day older than me. And your hips work better than mine," you grin. 

Pink floods his cheeks as he tries to stutter something in response. It would be a funny comment, a jab at his age, if he didn't know exactly what you’re alluding to. Aeons forbid a man still get some action at his age. It’s not like you’ve ever complained, after all.

"Come on, get up. Today is my day off, and I want to spend the day with my boyfriend. And no, I will NOT get into that freezer."

"Oh come on, it's cozy! Just gotta stay cuddled nice and close, it's really nice in the summer."

"Well I’d rather not catch a cold, thank you very much."

Ashveil laughs. A freezer turned cryocapsule really isn’t the best place to cuddle, and since his tiny, cluttered office has nothing better to offer, it's time to take the little walk over to your apartment so you two can spend the day glued to each other (and the couch, most likely)..

As he stands up, his limbs crack, back feeling sore. Ouch. This scrap of metal may be able to keep you young for several centuries, but the cramps and tension in his muscles afterwards is something he never looks forward to. Always the same with this damned thing.

Holding out his cane for him, you type something into your phone in the meantime. "Do we wanna watch the new episode of the show we started the other day?"

Just as he’s about to answer, he notices the little spider caught in your hair. Poor thing. He carefully reaches forward to remove the tiny stowaway before you can notice. Then it happens: a scream. Not just any scream: red-faced, trembling, breathing heavily, you press yourself against the wall, hands clasped tightly over your mouth.

Ashveil can only stare. At his cold prosthetic hand that just brushed over your nape, at your body and how you make yourself so small. He stares into your eyes, wide open. Full of shock, surprise... So pleading. 

This is the first time he has seen this expression on you.

"Are you okay?" he asks carefully, hoping that he didn’t hurt you by mistake.

You stutter. "YES! Uh-" your voice breaks, and it takes a few attempts until you can speak again.  "I- uh, your- your hand is cold, and- I. Uh, I-"

So the cold? Is that it?

Again, he lifts his freezing fingers and gently runs those metal claws over your skin, and the whimper in your throat floods his bloodstream with want. Such a beautiful sound, so sweet, unlike anything he has heard from you before. Ashveil needs to hear it again. Panic floods your eyes, uncertainty flickering and looking for an escape, and he’s quick to cage you against the wall with his healthy arm.

"Ah ah ah. Don't run away," he rasps, voice low and sultry as he presses his chest against yours, keeping you pressed against the wall. God, how your heartbeat hammers against him. He gently pinches your chin between his thumb and pointer and lifts your gaze to his. "Or do you not like this?"

If you didn't like it, you would have complained a long time ago. This silence is making him so, so ravenous. Do you even know what you’re doing to him right now, looking so utterly helpless?

You swallow. "I- I do, just-"

Ashveil has never wanted his hand back as much as he does now. The things he’d do to feel the throbbing in your veins, the things he’d sacrifice to feel the trembling of your skin. A metal fingertip gently moves from your cheek, tracing your vein, wandering further and further down your neck, until his hand disappears into your shirt. An icy claw gropes your chest.

"A- Ah-," you moan, biting your lip. "Ashveil..."

"Shh. It's all right. Just let go," he whispers. "I'll take good care of you, dear."

Though I was joking? I wasn't. My creative writing club has an NSFW session each semester, and this time, I got temperature play as a prompt. Who would fit better than our dear detective who sleeps in the freezer? If this sounds a bit off from my usual writing, I had to translate everything, so be nice.

[gyaruxyranger]

Ashveil x Reader ( afab fem!reader - large breasts appreciation )

♡ nsfw -mdni 🔞 ♡

♡ hi hi (⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡ This drabble was requested by a lovely anon and honestly I am one hundred percent down to write this as a woman with a large chest (who on occasion feels a bit insecure about it and needs some love and attention directed at the girls), so please enjoy! ♡

Ashveil is, without any doubt, a man in love. He loves the way you look at him with your eyebrows raised when he gets a deduction horribly wrong, the way you laugh when he tells a dad joke, and adores the way your eyes sparkle even when you tease him. You add a profound warmth to his life that he'd never really thought would be fully present as a man who had spent his time sleeping in a refrigerator, dreaming of days long past.

Naturally, when the two of you are alone, when you're both stripped down before one another (both literally and metaphorically), he also loves the way you sigh and moan for him, the way your body reacts to his touch, and the fact that you're both quite diverse insofar as the many things you enjoy in bed together. You both could make love and take it nice and slow, or be total freaks between the sheets and leave each other covered in bite and claw marks, and all that lies in between.

Everything about your body drives him crazy, and tonight, there is a particular area he's found himself extremely obsessed with lately - your breasts. They feel so wonderfully heavy in his hands, and he can't help but fixate on them. God, even the way they look when they're hidden beneath your clothes, it takes everything in him not to stare too much. Thankfully, as he's undressing you, he can use a more hands-on approach to give them plenty of appreciation.

You notice. Of course, you notice. He's biting his lip once your shirt slides up past your collarbone, and he's already impatiently fumbling with unhooking your bra. Once your tits are free, he pushes his face between them, inhaling your sweet scent with a satisfied groan, his cock struggling against the fabric of his pants.

"A-Ash~ That tickles~" You laugh. He responds to this by giving them a squeeze with both hands. He looks up at you with what some would perhaps see as puppy dog eyes, but you knew well that this big "puppy" in front of you was up to mischief.

"Mmh, so big, and soft, and perfect~ I just can't help myself...but hey, if it's too ticklish now, I can fix that." He mumbles against your skin, smirking ever so slightly. His fingers pinch and rub your nipples, and he feels the way you shiver, the cool metal of his prosthetic no doubt being a bit intense. But it's not enough for this greedy, hungry wolf in your bed.

Ashveil lets out a playful growl before biting your left breast just enough that it would leave a mark, and the sound you make alone has his cock throbbing and aching for release. He dares not think too hard about how your tits will look, bouncing around with each strong thrust in and out of your perfect little cunt, your pretty cheeks flushed as you moan that sweet little nickname you'd given him, for fear that alone would make him cum right here and now - after all, he'll get to experience that in due time. Instead, he slides one hand down your body, underneath the waistband of your panties, his lashes fluttering as he licks the spot he'd bitten soothingly before going for one of your pert nipples...

Man, he really is a dirty-minded old dog, isn't he?

If he is, well, that's more than fine. Especially when his lovely lady keeps him so, so well fed~ ♡

[cha3blu]

recent comms i finished

sketch comms

[chalabrun]

I Know I'm a Wolf - The Young Heretics

[anima-of-mirrors]

(CW: Suggestive, mentions of groping, temperature play)

Ashveil knows you’ve never been the sensitive type. Not in the sense that you won’t cry during a sad movie or that everything that you encounter leaves you unfazed, but in the sense that, sometimes, he wonders whether your skin is made of marble. Every tickle, every pinch, every gentle touch is noticed, acknowledged, but he has never gotten a reaction out of you. Not to the degree he’d like. It doesn’t bother him... Okay, that's a lie. Of course, it bothers him. You’ve assured him more than enough that you’re having fun, that he always leaves you satisfied, and that your body is just like that. Not sensitive.

Wallowing in self-pity inside his freezer is something he has come to see as part of his daily routine, the insecurity biting into him as much as the shadow in his arm. That is until light suddenly floods his eyes. After a few seconds of annoyed blinking, those grey eyes focus, and he stares into the cheeky expression of you, bent over him.

"Good afternoon, you sleepyhead!" You greet him cheerfully, taking a few steps backwards so he can get out of the big metal box. "I'm always surprised that you get cases at all when you lay in here like a corpse most of the day..."

With an annoyed moan, he gets up and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm too old to work early in the morning. Most crimes happen at night anyway."

"You still don't look a day older than me. And your hips work better than mine," you grin. 

Pink floods his cheeks as he tries to stutter something in response. It would be a funny comment, a jab at his age, if he didn't know exactly what you’re alluding to. Aeons forbid a man still get some action at his age. It’s not like you’ve ever complained, after all.

"Come on, get up. Today is my day off, and I want to spend the day with my boyfriend. And no, I will NOT get into that freezer."

"Oh come on, it's cozy! Just gotta stay cuddled nice and close, it's really nice in the summer."

"Well I’d rather not catch a cold, thank you very much."

Ashveil laughs. A freezer turned cryocapsule really isn’t the best place to cuddle, and since his tiny, cluttered office has nothing better to offer, it's time to take the little walk over to your apartment so you two can spend the day glued to each other (and the couch, most likely)..

As he stands up, his limbs crack, back feeling sore. Ouch. This scrap of metal may be able to keep you young for several centuries, but the cramps and tension in his muscles afterwards is something he never looks forward to. Always the same with this damned thing.

Holding out his cane for him, you type something into your phone in the meantime. "Do we wanna watch the new episode of the show we started the other day?"

Just as he’s about to answer, he notices the little spider caught in your hair. Poor thing. He carefully reaches forward to remove the tiny stowaway before you can notice. Then it happens: a scream. Not just any scream: red-faced, trembling, breathing heavily, you press yourself against the wall, hands clasped tightly over your mouth.

Ashveil can only stare. At his cold prosthetic hand that just brushed over your nape, at your body and how you make yourself so small. He stares into your eyes, wide open. Full of shock, surprise... So pleading. 

This is the first time he has seen this expression on you.

"Are you okay?" he asks carefully, hoping that he didn’t hurt you by mistake.

You stutter. "YES! Uh-" your voice breaks, and it takes a few attempts until you can speak again.  "I- uh, your- your hand is cold, and- I. Uh, I-"

So the cold? Is that it?

Again, he lifts his freezing fingers and gently runs those metal claws over your skin, and the whimper in your throat floods his bloodstream with want. Such a beautiful sound, so sweet, unlike anything he has heard from you before. Ashveil needs to hear it again. Panic floods your eyes, uncertainty flickering and looking for an escape, and he’s quick to cage you against the wall with his healthy arm.

"Ah ah ah. Don't run away," he rasps, voice low and sultry as he presses his chest against yours, keeping you pressed against the wall. God, how your heartbeat hammers against him. He gently pinches your chin between his thumb and pointer and lifts your gaze to his. "Or do you not like this?"

If you didn't like it, you would have complained a long time ago. This silence is making him so, so ravenous. Do you even know what you’re doing to him right now, looking so utterly helpless?

You swallow. "I- I do, just-"

Ashveil has never wanted his hand back as much as he does now. The things he’d do to feel the throbbing in your veins, the things he’d sacrifice to feel the trembling of your skin. A metal fingertip gently moves from your cheek, tracing your vein, wandering further and further down your neck, until his hand disappears into your shirt. An icy claw gropes your chest.

"A- Ah-," you moan, biting your lip. "Ashveil..."

"Shh. It's all right. Just let go," he whispers. "I'll take good care of you, dear."

Though I was joking? I wasn't. My creative writing club has an NSFW session each semester, and this time, I got temperature play as a prompt. Who would fit better than our dear detective who sleeps in the freezer? If this sounds a bit off from my usual writing, I had to translate everything, so be nice.

[divinity-haven]

The Color Yellow

“But between you and me. I didn’t even have a favorite color until she yelled out “Yellow!” She was excited and smiling like a little kid.

So I told her she was right.

And I haven’t seen yellow the same since. It’s in everything. I could probably live in it now.”

——————————————————————

RAHHHHH FUCK I LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH AGHHHHH!!!! They make me so ill.

Thank you @n0tamused for the wonderful commission. I LOVE IT AGSHRBEISID

THIS fucking audio where the guy doesn’t have a favorite color and then his s/o says yellow and so that becomes the guys favorite color. FUCK I LOVE THAT AUDIO AND ITS SO SUNNYHILL I CANT. Especially because Sunny’s color and eyes are fucking yellow!!! And their blood is gold so they blush yellow!! -slams fist-

Also how Sunny’s yellow contrasts Boothill’s dark color tones or black and red and gun metal grey. She’s the light that guides him through his darkest nights.

Don’t worry guys I’ve got like a five page book report on these two and what they mean to each other and the symbolism of their relationship. It’s coming up don’t worry. It’s on the Sun and Moon ship trope and it will be featured with new art of them from me. -in this fucking essay I will-

[tehhententacletalescrac]

I am the proud owner of these two versions of "fuck my trash!panda life everything is on fire" 2026, by the incredibly talented Rina over at @pinkgvts,

[pinkgvts]

thank you for commissioning me, tehhen ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡