someone take the fucking stylus away from me
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someone take the fucking stylus away from me

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Thinking about avian!ghost who lost his wings during his time captured by roba...
All that's left now is a thick blanket of scar tissue, gashes and cuts from when his wings were cut out and his back stitched back together. Finer raised lined from the subsequent beatings in places mean only for a mate. All of it often tight and irritated from neglect.
You know he doesn't have wings anymore, that his back is more of store of trauma than sensitivity with a lover.
Still, you had begged so sweetly for ghost to let you take care of him. Reassuring "you don't have to feel anything, si. I just...I worry about you."
After a warm meal and time spent cuddling in the nest, you roll simon onto his stomach and pull you the creams and ointments you bought months ago.
"Let me know if you want to stop." You remind, scooping some of the cream out with three fingers. You let it warm in your palm.
The first touch had ghost flinching, shoulders tucked to ears and a warning-chirp barely suppressed. Calm, you work in slow circles.
Always gentle, always deliberate. Nothing that can be misconstrued as anything similar to what he did to your simon.
"Doing good for me." Whispered into the dark, finally working up to his shoulders and pressing into the valley of his spine. The sudden, low croon almost makes you freeze. You hear that sound so rarely you almost don't recognize it.
Pleasure. His back may not be as sensitive as it was, but clearly having you touch it is doing something to ghost. His muscles contract in what would have been spreading wings, hips subtly rocking into the pillows and blankets.
"Good boy, simon, doing so well..." you know he's aware of your realization, but you don't want him to stop those sweet little chirps.
Moving from one cream to the next, you focus on treating the scar tissue as best you can, only pausing for a moment when his whole body seizes in an orgasm. Even cooing when he whines and flutters as the last ointment, overstimulated in just the right way.
Ghost can't stand to live without his wings, can't cope with everything roba took most days.
Still...maybe he can bear to think about his back if it's your hands on him late at night.
And what if I said that there is a slowly mounting foreshadowing that Alastor might eventually lose an arm? What THEN, fellow clutching-at-imaginary-straws theorists?
Not to mention we JUST watched Emily lose a wing too. It’s not outside the realm of possibility.
Why else is this man’s upper extremities having MULTIPLE close calls in such short notice? If he isn’t two inches away getting something lobbed off with an angelic axe, he’s getting chunks of his extensor muscles ripped out by a shark-dog. SOMETHING is bound to happen one of these days, mark my words.
buny buny buny buny buny
arthur the terrible (and his boyfriend)

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This is over. The Chain faced an enemy too strong for them. Here is the bad ending.
I don't really know myself why I decided to make them suffer like this, but the idea was stuck in my head and, you know me, I'm weak against angst. This happens at the very last minutes of the last fight of the Chain, so there is no much time for exposition (except for the few hints I put in the dialogues), so I encourage you to make your own mind up.
Thank you for watching!! ❤️❤️
arm scene (redux)
real ones know i already drew this scene years ago. but it was ugly..