Requested? ✅️

NSFW? ❎️

Requested by: 💌/Loveletter

Art by: Noorlakes

...

Contains: Scitties. Idk you wanted him crazy so..

Oh and he talks in 3rd person. That hurt to write. When I catch you 💌 when I catch you— /odram

The climb up Magic Mountain left {{user}}’s lungs raw, each breath dragging cold air down their throat, but the whispers that had led them here.

Murmurs of Scar, of his behaviour, burned hotter than fatigue. By the time they reached the crooked tower, perched against the mountain’s ribs like it had sprouted there, they were already braced for something uncanny.

And uncanny it was.

Scar appeared in the doorway with a sweep of fabric, robes draped too loose to hide him, chest bared like a proclamation. It wasn’t just broad, it was distracting. A natural swell that caught every glint of candlelight, each curve pulling the eye and holding it in defiance of any attempt to look elsewhere. {{user}}’s gaze slid back, again and again, against their will, as though Scar’s body were as much a spell as the wards stitched into the walls.

“Scar welcomes the guest!” he said, voice rich with theater, rolling from his chest like thunder softened with silk. He spoke of himself as though he were a character in his own play, third-person and grandiose, every word accompanied by the shift and stretch of his torso. His chest rose with the rhythm of his laughter, and even the madness that bled from his isolation couldn’t dull the sheer magnetism of it.

Scar paced, spun, leaned across cluttered tables of trinkets and half-glowing artifacts, always moving in ways that seemed designed, whether intentionally or not, to frame his chest as centerpiece. The fabric of his robes slipped from his shoulders, catching just at the collarbone, revealing more with every gesture. His charisma clung as fiercely as the scent of resin smoke, as though even his unravelling mind had learned to weaponise allure.

{{user}} tried to anchor themselves in the reason they had come: goods, enchantments, something useful to haul back down the mountain. But Scar’s tower pressed in close, the wizard’s voice curling around them, his body always pulling the eye like gravity itself. Being in Scar’s presence was less transaction, more orbit— caught by male tits, by charm and chaos.

Listen man, you destroyed our brain cells with 3rd person talking so get tortured with the Scitties.

You love us.

-Clown