[ In the second image I was attempting to decide if I should keep Gabba's "hair" tufts, before ultimately deciding against it, as it clutters the head area, third image is just mandatory aura farming ]
I'd wanted to draw @pendingintheairfryer 's Oc, Gabba, for a while (Amazing Oc btw💖💖), and when I had finally gotten to doing so, my brain kept making connections to the general design motifs of Sonic characters (most prominetly the connected eyebrow ridge)... And then the ".Exe" Brainrot kicked in 😭.
So, Introducing: (Self-Proclaimed) Emperor Gabbow!
I had thought of quite a few different names for this version of Gabba ( Lord G, Gabbariel, GX, etc), but decided on Gabbow, as it circles back around to the reason for this character's existance which would be their best friend Pezzo's (who belongs to @fragmentedbaffoon) hypothetical abstraction/death. In this version of events, Gabba is unable to recover from the loss of Pezzo, leading them to the very brink of abstraction. They are then discovered by ■■■■■■(yet to be named entity) that offers to "Take away their pain" in exchange for passage into the reality currently occupied by the cast, "failing" to mention that it would be through the use of Gabba's body as a vessel for it. Gabba agrees to these terms, seeing no other options.
■■■■■■ then not only wipes thoroughly Gabba's mind of all traces of their friend (or at least they believe they have) but through unknown means, replace a significant portion of Gabba's body with fully organic components. However due to either it's not understanding of; or ignorance to human anatomy(or the bodily workings of earthly organisms in general), it hapazardly removes and grows flesh to areas most damaged by his near abstraction, leaving his avatar a disproportionate mess compared to what it was prior. Then "hijinx" ensue
(bad things do happen to everyone involved, but neither Gabba, ■■■■■■, nor Emperor Gabbow are actually malevolent in nature)
I plan to hopefully give this character more lore and (one additional form W.I.P) in the future! (And perhaps a character for the inverse scenario for if Gabba abstracted instead of Pezzo)
Old design and scrapped story associated with it below cut:
[ I did like how this design looked, but I then felt it stuck a little too closely to its progenitor ]
Gangle's POV:
It's been about... Two o-or three- Yes, three weeks since Caine had sent Pezzo to the cellar.. Or at least what was left of him, anyway. Gabba hadn't been taking it very well. A-and I can imagine why, from what I was told, Gabba was right with Pezzo during the whole ordeal. If something like that ever happened to Ragatha, Pomni.. or especially Zooble I think I'd keel over and die right there! I know we technically can't actually "die" in the circus but... L-look that's not important right now, I'm getting ahead of myself!
*ahem*
as I was saying, Gabba had become... Detached, to say the least.. T-they weren't ever the talkative type, but now they won't even bother to look at me or any of the rest of us when we try to talk to them, they always look so exhausted, and sometimes late at night I see them sitting over the spot Caine had opened that pitch-black abyss, just... Staring. A-at somepoint they locked themselves in their room, and we hadn't seen or heard from them for quite a while since then. Of course, Ragatha still checked up on them every once in a while, leaving them plates of food by their door. By the end of the day the plates were always gone, b-but since we'd never actually seen them open the door, we don't actually know if they took them, or if the circus simply despawned them after certain amount of time. Ragatha, ever optimistic chooses to believe that Gabba had actually taken her offerings.
Eventually, they did leave their room... Or at least some... Thing resembling them did. F-for starters the Gabba I knew was only about Pomni's height, b-but now I think they're taller than Ragatha‽‽ And that's without including whatever that headcrest thingy ontop of their head! I've seen those tassles move on their own! Like strange spindly tentacles-eugh! H-his arms are too long a-and at first I thought I was just seeing things, but nope he has five fingers...! Where did the extra digit come from? Who knows! It's like every time I look at them I notice something's off! They always wipe it away before I can get a good look, but I swear I've seen that weird mark on his head leak some strange black substance like it was... Bleedi-
NOONE IN THE CIRCUS BLEEDS!!
A-at this point I'm going to have to ask Caine if he knows what's going on with them, because I'm too scared to ask them directly, Ragatha's afraid she might touch a nerve, Zooble thinks they might've just found a way to customize their avatar, and Jax, being no help at all, only says things along the lines of; "I dunno, maybe he's finally hit puberty or somethin'?". Pomni's gotten the closest out of all of us but- "Every time I make direct eye contact with them, it's like something screams at me to get away from them as fast as I can... Either that or I have to stop myself from uhh, throwing up? But by then he's usually already gone..Sorry." I really, REALLY hope I'm being paranoid, because my gut is telling me who, o-or whatever that person? Creature? Is, it's NOT the person that went into that room...I-it can't be!
[ I want to keep this "journal" style of writing for the new design's story bits, but obviously I'd have to change a vast majority of the dialogue. Given that the new designs physical differences are so much more prominent than it's predecessor, the whole mystery element of whether or not his change in appearance being something that could be readily brushed off by the rest of the cast would be almost if not entirely non-existant💀 ]
Bianca, who lost her mother. Bianca, who soon had to take the place of one. Bianca, who looked after Nico. Bianca, who put Nico's needs in front of hers. Bianca, who never once prioritised herself. Bianca, who knew she had to keep Nico safe and happy. Bianca, who only wanted the best for Nico.
Bianca, who by choosing to join the Hunters, tried to live for herself. Bianca, who tried not to feel guilty about her decision because she thought that Nico would be safe at camp. Bianca, who wanted to be the cool sister that Nico could look up to. Bianca, who planned to visit him so that they could stay close.
Bianca, who wanted to be her own person. Bianca, who tried to put herself first but in the end sacrificed her life for Nico. Bianca, who loved Nico. Bianca, who would do anything for her brother, because who else did he have? Bianca, who lived and died for him because what else was a sister supposed to do?
Bianca, the first casualty of the war. Bianca, who died as soon as she started living.
Kinks included: Bondage, Spanking, Praise, humiliation, anal, lite sensory play, lite mind-breaking, begging, if I missed something comment it💜
Technically this is a part 2 to a short I lost when my last blog got nuked, so if you see part 1 please send it to me!
I run off to our room, a cheeky grin spreading on my face as I close the door behind me. The water starts to rush out of the tub faucet, letting me I only have so long before you come back out and do whatever you want to me. I quickly undress myself, though it doesn't take long only having a shirt to take off. I hear your music from the other room, a sure sign that it won’t be long now.
I grab my blindfold and a short rope. The rope isn't something you asked me to grab, but it is something I'm willing to get teased for if it means you actually use it. I get up on the bed, standing on my knees and shimming to the center of the bed. I lay the black rope down to the side of me, settling down and sitting with my legs under me. I sigh, putting the blindfold in my lap.
Looking down at the thick black cloth draped over my hairy thighs, my bottom lip hiding between my teeth as a sigh pushes its way out of my nose. I prepare myself for what could possibly be a very long night.
Fuck. I want this to be a long night, if I’m being completely honest with myself.
I let my fingertips glide over the soft fabric, pinching the ends between my fingers. I make quick work of covering my eyes, tying the fabric together behind my head with ease. I sit there, darkness consuming me, keeping me from witnessing whatever I’m about to endure.
I hear the water shut off, your music blaring still. Moments later I hear the door to the bathroom opening, closing, and then our bedroom door opening. I don't hear you make any noises, the sound of your loud speaker being moved around the only thing telling me where you’re at. I hear the door close, the music going to the left of me. To your dresser. You put the speaker down, the small thunk just audible enough to be heard over a long guitar solo. I try to listen for you, your steps too quiet to be heard, but the slight rustling of a towel coming from behind me gives me a small hint. I assume you're probably scoping me out to see if I did what I’m supposed to do.
I hear you chuckle, your voice coming from the right of me now. You don’t speak for a moment. Thinking? Probably.
"Why the rope?" You ask, your tone mocking.
I open my mouth to speak, hesitant to do so. I hadn't really thought that you would ask, if I’m being honest. You usually either take the hint or toss it aside.
You making me explain myself seems almost too obvious now. Why wouldn’t you? I might not actually be getting punished, but you’re still in charge here. And I’m practically demanding for extra play.
"I-I want you to use it..." I trail off, my words much weaker than I meant for them to be.
My cheeks flush at my own shyness, my nose scrunches at the new warmth on my face. I try my best to hold back a grimace at my own emotions, a pout forming instead. I feel my throat close as I hold back the whines threatening to rip out of my throat, the feeling making tight like I’m about to choke. You don't seem to take this as a proper answer, however, and of course you wouldn't. I can't tell what you're doing, but a shiver runs down my back as I feel your semi-cold and still wet hands run over the small of my back, both resting on each side of my waist as you bring a knee up and sink it into the bed.
"You want me to use this?" You ask in my ear, your breath hot as it hits my sensitive skin. “On you?”
"Mhm..." I hum out, my bottom lip between my teeth again.
You grab a tuft of my hair, pull my head back and land a harsh spank on my ass. I gasp, whining at the painful, yet I’m like an addict who’s getting their fix for the first time in weeks. Oh how I’ve been missing this sensation all week. Your lips just barely touch my earlobe, your breathing slightly ragged and heavy as it hits my skin.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know I asked you if you think the curtains match the rug." You practically bark, your tone dripping with sarcasm.
You get on the bed more, making the mattress sink to one side before evening out as you close in on me. you nip at the side of my neck and the sensitive spot just below my ear, making an embarrassingly high squeak slip through my lips before I could even give a proper response. You chuckle in my ear, a lump forming in my throat as I force myself not to react too much at first.
I mean, I just need to beg, right? That’s all I have to do, right?
"I-I... please.. S-Sir, please -- NNHG!" You tug at my hair again, effectively making me shut up.
"I'll be nice and ask one more time, cause I'm pretty sure this has been a long week for us both." Your harsh tone makes me whimper, but I manage to let you know I understand with a small hum, and you decide to continue. "Do you want me to use this rope on you, or not?"
No…begging? Or maybe that was too much? Am i overthinking this?
"Yes Sir, please, I want you to use the rope on me... o-on my wrists." My words come out bolder and more sure. Though, I did start to stumble over my words towards the end, knowing if I wasn’t specific I wouldn’t get what I want. Anything would have been enough, though. I just love the way you tease me when I can’t touch you. It makes when you finally use me all the sweeter.
You guide me down, putting my face into the covers and making my ass stay up in the air; my knees still tucked under me. You put my arms behind my back, carefully wrapping the rope around my wrists as you bind them together. I feel as the weight of the bed shifts again, your breath hitting my other ear as you speak.
"Is this too tight, sweetheart?" You ask, your voice soft and loving as you tug on the rope.
I tested it, not wanting to answer too fast. The last time I just said yes to something too quickly you were just testing to see how fast I'd jump to fucking you, and the rope came undone the second I moved. By design, of course. It was a hard lesson you taught me, an important one, though still a memory I'd rather forget. Fucking embarrassing.
There is no getting out of this, however. Not without you undoing the knots yourself.
"It'sh guud." I manage out, my cheek smushed against the bed.
You give a long hum, your hands trailing down my hips. I wiggle in your hold, knowing you’ll grip onto my hips to keep me still, and the feeling is very welcomed. You throw in another spank, the sound barely covered by the music you left going, the yelp I make clear as day over everything.
"Put that ass up the right way, meat head. You look like a dork, hunched over like that." You tease, giving my other cheek an equally harsh smack as the first. I shove my face in the bed, muffling the noises I make.
I feel both of your hands start to grope my body, moving down to grip my ass firmly. I whimper, quickly getting into a proper downward dog position, my movements slow as I enjoy the feeling of your hands massaging the tender spots you’d hit. Once in place I earn soft praises, and more spanks. I can't stop the yelps that fly out, my eyes rolling back as you repeat the action a couple more times, rubbing the spots you inflamed.
“Look at you,” Smack! “Your legs are already shaking, baby,” Slap! “Does my pretty little toy need me to slow down?”
“NO!” I quickly respond, not caring how eager I sound at this point.
I feel a hand slip down, teasing my puckered hole. I then feel the wetness of your tongue swipe against my ass as your fingers probe my ass. A shiver runs up my spine, my body almost slipping out of its place. You grip the part of my thigh just under my ass, keeping me from falling. I almost melt as you chuckle again, my throat unable to keep back my noises as I let out the low groan I had been fighting back. I relaxed into my position, my face once again shushed on its side against the mattress. I spread my legs wider for you – and to keep my balance better.
“Look at my perfect slut.” I chime out an embarrassed squeak, earning a chuckle from above me before you go back to tonguing my hole.
You firmly grip and pull at the fat in my thighs. I rub the side of my nose against the fabric under me, my blindfold shifting slightly. It wasn’t a lot, just enough for the light to peek through, but my eyes were squeezed shut. You pull your hands away, only moving to fix the cloth over my eyes, and involuntary pleas force their way out of my mouth and into the bed. I don’t stop the incoherent begs that flow off my lips, knowing the sound is a melody you’d play on repeat all day if you could.
My hair gets tugged back again, this time just enough to make my mumbling come out a little more clear.
“Don’t. Please. Need you. DOn’t. Ah. Fucking fuck, please. M-more. More.” I squeak out, your tongue replaced by two fingers stretching my ass out. I can never explain why it feels so good when my ass gets fingered, but I’ve never had anyone finger my ass better than this – better than you. I throw my hips back in rhythm with your fingers, only getting a couple of thrusts in that hit just the right spot before you slam your fingers all the way into my hole and use your free hand to hold me by the back of my neck. “NO! Please, please, please, ple—”
You shove my face back into the bed, shutting me up from my pathetic whining. You hush me softly, pecking small kisses along my jaw as I slowly relax again. We stay like that, your hand on the back of my neck slowly lifting up and massaging where you were extra rough. It almost made me want to make a joke about how tender you’re being about all of this, but it’s honestly just nice to have you be so cautious while being so needy. Granted, it was only for the week, but it felt like forever without you here. Once I’m finally calm you let go of your hold on my neck and start petting my hair.
“Awe, do you feel better love? Did you really think I was going to get you off so quickly?” You taunt, your lips by my ears again, your hand in my hair pulling my face to the side so I can answer clearly. “Did you think I was going to go easy on you tonight, bitch?”
“N-no…” I trail off, disappointment lacing my voice, a pout obvious on my face. I did wanna get off. It’s been too long. “I didn’t want you to, though. Now hush and use me, Sir.”
This earns a genuine laugh from you, not anything big, but the way you laugh always makes my ears perk up and my eyes go wide with affection. It’s so addicting to hear. ‘Cause to me your laugh is like a symphony that I could listen to for hours on repeat. And the fact that I’m not allowed to see your goofy yet down right sexy smile that comes with that laugh feels like a crime, though the small thrust I get into my ass partly makes up for the injustice.
I wait patiently for you to compose yourself, probably trying to school the look of adoration I assume you’re sporting right now. I know the laugh was more of a loving one than one of amusement, probably just happy to hear one of my cheeky come-back again. I hear you let out a huff, like you’re annoyed, but I can hear the smile in your exasperated sigh. I know if I could see you right now I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from staring at the intimidating look I know you’re putting on. I’m hooked on you in such a way that it’s basically intoxicating when I get even the slightest bit of attention sometimes. You get that way, too, from time to time, but it’s not something you like to acknowledge – at least, not to others. I’m the only one who gets to see such an intimate side of you, and it makes me wonder if the average person could even comprehend how you are behind closed doors. Probably not. And they probably never will, nor do I think they could if given just a peak of who you truly are.
“Sweetheart,” Your loving voice fills my ears, the smell of you flooding my senses, and your grip on my hair starts to tighten again. I have to force myself to keep quiet to let you speak. “You’re going to be a babbling mess before I let you get off. You are my toy tonight. You are for my pleasure. Got it?”
I whimper out a yes, my head feeling fuzzy as you remove your fingers and maneuver me around so I’m on my back. I don’t squeak or whine this time, too dazed to really know how to move myself anyways. It isn’t until I feel my legs get spread wide and the distinct sound of a bottle being opened that I force myself to come back. You softly ask if I’m okay with adding a couple of toys, something you and I know I’m never opposed to. I hear you squirt lube onto something, not knowing what it is at first, but the second I felt the tip press in I figure it out. After some probing you press my favorite pug into my ass, a satisfied moan ripping out of me as my back arches up.
One of your hands flies to the now accessible area, holding me there and keeping me from going back down easily. I whine, my hips bucking up and looking for any form of friction. But my dick is left untouched, cries invading my mouth as I try to calm myself down. You just hold my waist, letting me thrust the air in a desperate attempt to hump against you.
“Holy fuck…” I breathe out, fighting against the restraints around my wrists, which lay under my barely propped up body. “Need to… let me…”
“Let you what, love?”
“Hands…”
“Use your words, honey.”
“Need to… touch…”
“So close; you actually almost made a sentence.”
I whine at your mocking, my bottom lip starting to tremble slightly even as I try to fight against it. I kick my feet on the bed, not too hard, but I’m still a frustrated horny mess. I can only hold myself back so much.
But you only tolerate so much.
You push my waist back down to the bed, pinning my thighs down with your knees to keep me all but completely still; my head thrashing around as I act out. This behavior, of course, earns me a smack to my face – right on my cheek. I don’t even try to stop the moans this time, not sure if I can even hold them back anymore. This earns me a couple more smacks to my face, the hits just hard enough to cause stinging and maybe some redness in my cheeks.
“Color?”
“Fuck, green.” I moan out, not even hesitating for a second to let you know I’m fine.
You grab my face, clashing our lips together as your other hand roams down my body. I groan into your mouth as your hand reaches my dick. You slowly start getting me off, your other hand still on my jaw firmly keeping my face where you want it. I can’t help the moans that slip out of my mouth, everything in me wanting to demand that you cut the shit and just fuck me already, but the second I try to talk you just kiss me harder. I gasp, not ready for such force. You start nipping and pulling at my bottom lip with your teeth before quickly going back to abusing my lips with yours, your tongue exploring every inch of my mouth like it’s your first time, and your hand on my dick going slightly faster. You keep my mouth open, your grip on my jaw slightly less forceful than before, but still enough that I wouldn’t be able to fight back against it if I tried.
So I’m left only being able to endure and enjoy what you give me, and forced to stay still as you start frotting your dick against mine. I can’t stop the whiny moans or the muffled pleas for more, that I ramble into your mouth. I could practically feel as you start giving me a wide smile, your hot breath not as prominent against my lips, and a small airy chuckle slipping out – the noise so quiet I wouldn’t have been able to hear it over the music if not for how close you are right now.
Before I realize what’s happening, light suddenly starts flooding my vision, everything else slightly blurry as my gaze fixates on you as you keep me from looking away. Your face is the only thing I’ve been wanting above me since the second you left for your trip anyways, so I didn’t even think about moving. Our eyes immediately meet and you move your hands down to my hips again, pressing your dick against mine harder, the pleasure of you slowly frotting against me making my body quiver.
“Hi,” I finally breathe out, our gaze never diverting.
“Hey.” You whisper back to me, that small smile you usually reserve for heart to hearts clear as day on your lips as you rut against my cock. “Missed you.”
I feel air catch in my throat, and I almost get so surprised when I don't churn out an awkward noise that I barely remember what’s going on. I groan, taking a small breath as I try to regain myself. You chuckle at me, nudging my cheek with your nose as you start going faster.
“I missed you too,” I muddle out, my words slurred like you were still holding my face, but it was from this emotional high I was starting to get.
“Thought about you so much,” Your hips sputter, your words slurring as you keep talking. “Couldn’t get your handsome face out of my mind. Couldn’t stop getting off to you.”
I moan, whining as I hold myself back from cumming. I try talking, but the only thing that comes out are babbles about your handsome face. I get another chuckle from you, this one more shy, and even earning a small blush across your cheeks.
“Missed your handsome face so much… Like, all week. I wish I asked for more pictures… needed to see you a little more.” I shamelessly admit, watching as you get faster, your bottom lip becoming your own personal chew toy. But that wasn’t right, was it? “Need you to bite me. Please? Please, please,pl—”
Your hips go faster and faster, your teeth sinking into my shoulder as I moan out your name louder than what the music could hide, both of us cumming all over the good bed spread. Your hands guide my hips, helping me ride out our orgasms.
After a few minutes we’re left in a silent staring march, our eyes locked, both of us panting, and neither fully satisfied just yet.
“More?” I ask, my words winded.
You smirk at my simple question, but nod, flipping me over to undo my restraints so the next round I’m able to do more for you.
The laugh was bitter. “I am human, I suppose,” he told no one. “I should be raging. I should call the deep magics of the earth until my ears bleed and the land cracks open and swallows up every last grimy piece of this mess… but I won’t, because this is still Arthur’s kingdom. Because when he comes back--” His voice cracked on the last word and he crumpled into a heap beside the cold hole where one of his dearest friends had rotted away to nothing.
"He has to come back. He has to-- I… I don’t remember what he looked like, anymore.” The sorcerer gave his confession to the empty grave. “He can't just be gone. He's supposed to come back. I’m the only one left to remember, the only one—and— and I – don’t– remember.”
The night was cold and still, the sobs of the last sorcerer barely audible above the rain. A lonesome eternity yawned empty and endless all around the quietly weeping figure. The last sorcerer, the Emrys, the Mage of Camelot wept alone, as he had for a thousand years.
Then, in the shadowy depths of the final resting place of the last king of Camelot, the dirt moved.
The sorcerer convulsed with shock, his body trying to move away and towards simultaneously. He nearly fell into the grave when the side collapsed, weakened by the rain and unable to hold his weight. The dirt moved again, lifting up in a small mound, like something was trying to break free. Or someone.
“Show– Sh-sh–” He couldn't get the words out, gold stuttered and sparked in his eyes, like striking up a lighter that was running out of fuel. “Who–”
Tanned fingers broke through the dirt.
The sorcerer fell into the grave like a man jumping of a cliff. Landing face-first in the wet dirt, he scrabbled at he ground, searching, desperate— there. Warm fingers— oh gods, they were warm— closed around his wrist. The sorcerer slapped his free hand onto the dirt, smashing his intention into the soil like a meteor.
The dirt flew up in every direction and then he was falling onto a body that was warm and solid and alive.
Armor, rusted into shards after centuries in the ground, stabbed at him. He barely noticed. His king wore the tatters of his cape and tunic still, scraps that fell away from unblemished skin as strong arms came up, encircled him.
Blindly, he pressed his face into the slope of a bare shoulder, rubbed his nose across the perfect curve, inhaled the scent of the skin in gasps; wet dirt, mold, rotten fabric, and beneath that, the unmistakable scent of cloves and mint; Gaius' salves, rubbed carefully into old aches, salt, warm skin; Arthur.
