#this is the first character sheet I've ever made I didn't know what I was doing

[clownprincessstudios]

My Yowapeda OC Oshiro!!!

Here's my precious lil butt boy Oshiro Katashi 🫶 he's silly. He's my son. I'm a proud mother.

Some other stuff about him:

• He's 5'9" (I forgot to put that on there oops)

• His fav food is fried rice

• He's always tinkering with his bike

• He has an older brother

• He ends up going to the same university that Arakita and Kinjou go to

Uhhh that's all for now, this doesn't have all his info or all his silly facts but it's a lil intro to his character :3

#he's a nuisance to himself and others #you will see more of him #this is the first character sheet I've ever made I didn't know what I was doing #yowapeda #yowamushi pedal #yowa mush mush ped ped #yowamushi pedal oc #yowapeda oc #yowapedal #original character #clown princess studios #hakone bike club #hakogaku #oshiro katashi

[glorystark]

Empty eyes | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean doesn't take Charlie's death too well and because of the Mark of Cain affecting him, he tells you things that will regret.

Warnings: moc!Dean Winchester, Dean being a dick, minor mentions of injury, swearing, ANGST, major character's death

Pairing: Dean Winchester × reader

Featuring: Sam Winchester

Word count: 2,3k

We watched in agony as Charlie's body, wrapped around a white sheet, burned in the flames. This should never have happened to her kind soul. She died so we could save Dean. I couldn't help but feel guilty; my heart ached because I lost a friend, again. I knew Sam felt the same. We both asked Charlie for help with the Book of the Damned, and we both lied to Dean about the book being destroyed. Now it was too late to make things right. Memories flashed through my eyes, making me tear up. I remembered when she helped us with the Dick situation, or when I taught her some hunter-kind-of-tricks. How happy she was and wouldn't stop thanking me. She didn't deserve this, anyone but her.

“Charlie,” Sam started, grabbing my and probably Dean's attention. “We are gonna miss you. You're the best.” He stopped when his voice cracked, and now I was sure he felt far worse than me because looking back, he suggested not telling Dean about the Book of the Damned not being destroyed, which I didn't agree with at first. But seeing Dean, my Dean, slowly fade away right in front of my eyes changed my opinion. Maybe it was selfish, me and Sam both were. But we couldn't let Dean become something he fears, a Monster. We couldn't lose another person, another family member, but we didn't realize who we were putting in danger on this path.

“We love you, Charlie, and I'm so sorry,” I said, blinking through tears.

“Shut up,” Dean said coldly, making Sam and me look at him. “You got her killed. You don't get to apologize.” He continued.

“Dean-“ Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“You too, you two are the reason she is dead,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flames.

“We were trying to help you,” I said, still looking at him.

“I didn't need help,” he said bitterly. "I told you to leave it alone.”

“What were we supposed to do, just watch you die?” Sam asked, not letting me be the only one receiving the cold tone from his older brother.

“The mark isn't gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not, but when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore,” I stated. “Dean, you're all we got. So of course we were gonna fight for you because that's what we do,” I said softly.

“Yeah, she's right, we had a shot-“ Sam was cut off again by Dean.

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie is dead.” He finally turned his head to look at me and his brother, who was standing next to me. His dark emerald eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't recognize them. Never have I ever seen him look at me with those eyes. Because no matter how much crap we went through, he always made sure I was fine, and his eyes held nothing but sweetness and, on most occasions, worry. “Nice shot.”

“Are you even listening to me? You think I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that?!” I snapped, not being able to keep my voice down anymore. He is grieving, but so am I. If I could, I would trade places with her.

“You know what I think,” he started, still with the same voice tone. “I think it should be you up there and not her.”

I felt my heart break for the hundredth time today. I parted my lips, not taking my teary eyes off him, which clearly showed how hurt I was. Sam let out a small gasp and widened his eyes after he heard Dean's words, clearly not expecting his brother to go that far.

I knew he blamed me, probably even more than Sam. But knowing that he wanted me dead hurt more than any physical torture I've experienced.

Sam called his name, still shocked after what he heard, but his brother just walked away, breaking my heart more and more.

—————

It has been a week since I lost Charlie, since I lost my Dean. He has been searching for the Stynes ever since but has been having a bit of trouble finding their location. So meanwhile, he went on a few solo hunts. He hasn't said a word to me and to Sam, just a few like ‘buy some beers’ ‘did you find anything about the Stynes’.

He found another hunt for today and was packing his bag in his own room. We both haven't stepped in our shared room ever since the accident, which meant we weren't even sleeping on the same bed. I'm done with being ignored, so I knocked on his door and opened it without waiting for any response. He didn't even turn around, probably knowing it was me.

“Dean,” I called his name, not even knowing what I wanna talk about, but getting him to look at me was the first step. “Dean,” I called, this time louder, and when he still didn't turn around, I walked towards him and grabbed his arm. “Alright, I'm done. When will you finally stop ignoring me?!”

He looked at my hand, which was grabbing his arm, and slowly turned around, finally looking at my face. “I'm not ignoring you, I just don't want to talk to you or be near you,” he said bitterly, pulling his arm away and reaching for his door.

“Dean, you know you're not the only one who lost someone, okay? And believe me, I know it's my fault she's gone, and I'll never forgive myself for that. But, god, you're practically killing me. I miss you,” I said desperately, waiting for something in his eyes to change, waiting for him to embrace me in his strong arms, but... Nothing. His eyes didn't even hold hatred anymore, just emptiness.

“I don't know what you expect me to say, ‘I'm sorry you were so stupid’ ‘I'm sorry you got another person killed off’ ‘I'm sorry you're so fucking useless’ Huh?! Is that what you want me to say? You want me to feel sorry for you?!” he yelled, showing the anger and darkness in his eyes while he harshly slammed me to the wall, making me whimper slightly. His words cut deep into my skin, but I tried my best to ignore them, knowing this Dean wasn't really my Dean.

“I want you to understand, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I want you to tell me that we're gonna go through this like we always do,” I said softly, looking deeply into his eyes, trying to crack him.

He let out a dark chuckle and grasped my shoulders, lowering his head to be on the same height level with me. “You want me to tell you that we're gonna go through this? Well, baby, in that way, I'd be a big liar.”

“Dean, me and Sam, we are so close to saving you. Please, just don't let the mark control you,” I begged, feeling small under his touch.

“I don't want nor need you two saving me, and believe me, at this very moment, I'm trying to not let the mark control me, so don't provoke me,” he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"I thought you trusted me.”

“Well, that trust was destroyed when you got someone who was like a sister to me killed. Have you ever noticed how many innocent people died because you were being too stupid?” he said harshly.

"We all have made mistakes, Dean," I said, as I thought about the hunts where innocent people died, and I couldn't save them. I didn't want Dean to know how much his words were affecting me, but, god, I felt like a crumpled paper.

“Seems like that's the only thing you ever do,” he smirked, letting his eyes fall on the floor again before looking up at my eyes again. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing you don't mean anything to anybody and you're just a burden in our lives? How does it feel knowing nobody loves you?”

That's it. That was the punch line to make me break into tears.

“Y-you love me, you said that before.”

“You know I lie to get laid,” he said, smirking, proud of his response.

My heart was racing more and more, and I felt nauseous.

“Dean, please-“

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!” he grabbed my cheeks harshly. “Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.” he said, spitting the words out before letting me go. He took his bag and walked out of the room, not even glancing at me. I slid down the wall as I started sobbing silently.

Then I heard a buzz from my phone.

New message from Sammy:

“Y/N, Dean just said he found a hunt, probably three to four werewolves, and he told me to go with him. I was really surprised but didn't question him. I think he's getting better. I'll also talk to him on the road. Next time, he'll definitely ask you too, just like old times. Don't stay up and don't worry; we got this :) love you.”

He asked Sam to go, but not me. If he hadn't told me that he hated me a few minutes ago, I'd think he was worried. But if it was really 3 or 4 werewolves, there's nothing to be worried about. He just wants to stay away from me. He told me I was a burden to them; he'll probably throw me out of the bunker soon.

Dark thoughts ran through my mind, and suddenly a rush of anxiety ran through me. What if there were more than a few werewolves? What if they get hurt? What if Dean hates me even more?

I checked Sam's message again and saw that he sent me the address of where the werewolves' location is and where the hunt would probably take place. I quickly rushed to my room, grabbed my car keys, and went to drive to the location.

—————

I was hiding behind some of the trees in the forest, watching as each of the boys fought one werewolf, two already dead ones on the floor.

Everything seemed good so far; I mean, their guns were on the floor, but they were fighting each werewolf single handed and there was no need for me to make my presence known. The boys were winning as always. And that's when I realized they don't really need me in their life. I knew the words that came out of Dean's mouth tonight weren't really Dean's, my Dean. But he was somehow right; before I became the hunter I am today, I made many mistakes. Some were small, and some led to people getting hurt or even killed. I also put their lives in danger multiple times because I was being reckless. Finding the demons that killed my parents blinded my vision. I was ready to get back to the bunker when I saw both of the werewolves giving up until I noticed something.

A werewolf close to Sam's back, and it seemed like none of the brothers noticed him. I searched for my gun but remembered I forgot it in the backseat of my car. I cursed under my breath and did the only thing possible right now to save Sam. I couldn't let Dean lose another person, especially his brother, who I knew meant the world to him. I couldn't put him through something like that again when there's a chance to save the younger Winchester.

So I ran towards Sam, trying my best to not slip because of the woods on the floor. The Werewolf was close, and nobody noticed him. I'm not the only stupid one after all. The boys turned their heads to me for a slight second, surprised at my presence, but didn't stop fighting the other werewolves.

Until I pushed Sam away from the werewolf he was fighting onto the floor. He seemed confused at first, until he saw it. I assumed Dean did too but couldn't be too sure since he was behind me. I let out an agonizing scream when the werewolf grazed his claws into my stomach and the other one, which Sam was fighting before, grazed his claws into my back before my lifeless body fell on the floor. Dean didn't hesitate more seconds before getting his gun from the floor and shooting all the werewolves.

I was bleeding like a waterfall from my body and my mouth. But the good thing is-

I didn't feel any pain, or anything in that matter…

Dean Winchester’s Pov:

No no no.

This can't be happening.

It's all a nightmare, just another stupid nightmare.

I heard Sam's crying voice telling the love of my life, his best friend, to wake up, holding her torn apart body in his arms, asking her why she pushed him away. But there was no answer.

It's a nightmare happening in real life.

Her beautiful y/e/c are open but so empty, unrecognizable.

I stood over her body, not being able to move from my spot.

There is so much blood everywhere.

Her blood.

This is hell.

No, I’ve been to hell and it's worse than hell.

I started tearing up more and more, reality hitting me more every second.

I let out an angry scream and fell on my knees when I remembered my last words to her.

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing! Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.”

She wasn't nothing, she was my everything.

She mattered, she was the reason I kept going, now she's gone and it's all my fault.

All my fault.

All of the words I said came back to me, making my chest hurt.

As I knelt beside her lifeless body, surrounded by the aftermath of our shattered world, I whisper into the silent abyss, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

And deep down I felt the Mark laughing…

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester mark of cain #moc!dean #mark of cain #supernatural angst #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #angry Dean Winchester #angry!dean #dark Dean Winchester #angst #angst no happy ending #angst no comfort #platonic Sam Winchester

[punk4ndisorderly]

dreamboat

jack hughes x fictional character

intro | part2

part 1 - arrivals

"I thought you buffoons knew better than to wake me up before ten by now." Ava groaned, her head still burried in the soft pillow Ellen had bought especially for her, the linens engraved with an A in light blue.

Luke and Jack jumped up and down around her, careful not to step on her body while making the mattress squeak loudly, goofy smiles adorning their faces.

"There is no way you're sleeping in this year, Coop." the younger Hughes brother declared, dropping to his knees on the bed. "Oh mom's been holding out on us, these sheets smell so much better than ours!"

"Maybe yours just smell different because you sweat more than a whore in a church, Moosey." she smirks, turning so she was now on her back, looking up at the two siblings who had invaded her room.

"Hey! It's not my fault I run hot!" Luke whined, climbing down the bed. "Anyway, breakfast's ready. Quinn made pancakes. First come, first served, Coop." he announced, leaving her alone with his brother, still bouncing around like an overstimulated child.

"And what are you doing here?" Ava inquired, sitting up against the headboard as she pushed the sheets back, adjusting her pajama top so her full breasts wouldn't accidentally slip out in front of one of her oldest friends.

"Can't a guy just spend time with his favorite girl in the world?" he asked, his eyes briefly accompanying her hands.

"Megan Fox is here?"

Jack rolled his eyes dramatically, picking up the spare pillow and throwing it at her head.

"You never take anything seriously, do you?"

"When it comes to you? Of course I don't, Hughes." Ava chuckled, gracing him with one of her beautiful smiles. "Not when you're telling me I'm your favorite girl."

"Here we go again." the Devils' center groaned, landing beside his childhood friend with a thud, hiding his head under a pillow. "Have I ever lied to you, Coop?"

He hadn't. Not even when she wanted him to.

"Stop using your charm on me!"she skillfully changed the subject. "I've seen you eat boogers, remember? I'm immune."

He raised his head, his hair disheveled, sticking up in every other direction. Booger eater or not, he sure was beautiful.

"You didn't seem to mind when we made out in seventh grade!" Jack quipped triumphantly, moving so his head was on her lap, her smooth, large thighs providing him with the comfort he missed the most during the year, when they were on opposite sides of the country.

"We did not make out! It was a barely a peck! And you said we'd never talk about it again!" she whisper-yelled, covering his mouth with her hands.

"Hmm... I can be persuaded to take it to the grave." the Devils' player conceded, pointing towards his head.

Ava's hands immediately found his unruly head of hair, running her fingers through it, just like he loved her to.

"You're insufferable."

"Lucky for you, I don't know what that means." Jack joked, closing his eyes.

Laughter rumbled in her belly, inciting the same response from him.

"This was fun, but I seriously need to pee."

As if he had been stung by an insect, Jack jumped from his place in her warm lap, regretting it as soon as he did, missing her nimble fingers and her skin instantly.

His friend got up, stretching and giving him a glimpse of her soft stomach and wide hips. Her large thighs were barely covered by the flimsy shorts she was wearing, the shape of her absolutely perfect in his eyes. She moved to the en-suite bathroom, closing the door behind her.

"Are you going to stand there and listen to me pee, you creep?" Ava called out.

"Yeah, gonna record it and use it as white noise or something like that."

Her laughter echoed loudly from the other side of the door, bringing a smile to his lips.

"Go and save me some pancakes, Hughes!"

"On it, Cooper."

-

She spun around in front of the mirror. Her new bikini brought her a new wave of confidence, her breasts enhanced but carefully contained within the limits of the fabric covering them, the panties comfortable enough to allow her to move freely without risking showing more than she always worried she would. Not that the boys would ever even look. Or care.

There was a certain freedom in the friendzone. There was a comfort, a guarantee that the way they looked wasn't a part of the equation. No worrying about stomach rolls, or how her thighs looked bigger when she sat down, flattened against the surface, or the way her arms were wider than theirs. No angles to obsess over or long wraps to cover up. She could actually be at ease and enjoy herself in the presence of the three boys who had practically stumbled into her life many moons ago.

Pulling up her jean shorts and picking up the old cowboy hat Jack had won her during Fourth of July weekend, Ava left her tower, as Jim liked to call it, reuniting with her boys downstairs.

"Sit." Quinn demanded, placing a plate in front of her, besides Jack. "I want to be done with this before they get here."

"Who? Trevor and Cole won't wake up until noon, your mom won't let them have breakfast then, she won't make you feed Z." she chuckled, popping a raspberry into her mouth.

"Oh, some boys from the team are staying for a couple of days." Luke shrugged, sipping on his orange juice.

"Oh. Okay."

Too much testosterone.

"Don't worry, Coop. They're cool. Promise." the younger Hughes assured her.

On cue, the doorbell rung. Luke jumped from his seat, excited to have his friends over. Ava and Jack exchanged a look, bracing themselves for chaos.

Soon, the kitchen was crowded. They weren't many, but they sure were big. She was introduced to each and every one of them, with Luke making sure there were no flirty comments exchanged, as usual. Ava couldn't remember half of their names, but they seemed nice enough, and none of them had looked down on her or grimaced visibly when she stood up to greet them.

One of the boys, Mark, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side.

"I heard great things about you, Cooper." he winked, letting her go after locking eyes with someone.

"I have heard nothing about you, Mark." Ava smiled, thankful for the reprieve. He was squeezing her a little bit too hard.

"We'll work on that." he laughed. "Hey Hughesy, where's Eddy?"

"He was supposed to drop by his house first, I guess. Should be here any minute." the tallest sibling explained. "Let me show you around."

The boys followed Luke into the house, the whispering growing more intense with the distance.

Jack was observing her attentively, like he so often did, his bottom lip between his thumb and his index finger.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked, amused.

Quinn shoved him softly, chuckling to himself and heading back to the sink.

"Help me out here, dude."

"Why don't you ask Coop to do it?" his brother whined, turning just in time to catch the cloth Ava had thrown his way at the mention of her name.

"Last time I made Coop do the dishes mom didn't let me take the boat out for two days."

"Oof, fair point." Jack agreed. "How does it feel to be the favorite child?"

Ava stuck her tongue out at him. There was no arguing, she was Jim and Ellen's favorite child and she wasn't even theirs. Of course that's an easy achievement when the three they have at home are each a menace in their own right.

The doorbell echoed loudly again, and since neither Jack nor Quinn made any move to get it, the fourth Hughes assumed it was her turn.

She opened the door to find a very attractive young man with a shoulder bag. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, before she was shoved aside by Luke.

"Eddy! You made it!"

#jack hughes #dreamboat #jack hughes x ava cooper #jack hughes x chubby!reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n #dreamboat jack hughes #jack hughes x fictional character #jack hughes x reader #hockey #hockey boys #trevor zegras #cole caufield #luke hughes #jack hughes blurb #quinn hughes #ethan edwards #umich wolverines

[bomberqueen17]

snippet post

I'm in the editing mines, lol. But I was writing a Lu POV chapter and Morvran was acting funny so I was like ok I have to know why he's in this mood or whether I need to rewrite this, so I went in and wrote, just to throw away, his immediately-preceding conversation with Kalia, Ciri's household manager and a fellow Intelligence operative.

And this is something I'd put in earlier in the series, from Ciri's POV, but it seems relevant that Morvran is aware of it now. So I'm putting it here to preserve it, as this isn't a scene that's going to go into the main continuity anyway. And I wanted to post something as a proof of life, LOL.

Kalia considered that a moment, then snorted. “Morvran, it’s not like she’s going to marry someone else.” He glanced up at her, startled by her bluntness, and Kalia gestured widely with one hand. “You think any of the other candidates haven’t committed war crimes?” Morvran blinked, trying to determine whether he knew that for a fact or not. “Well,” he said. “Would any of them write up a report about them?” she asked. “Have any of them even made an effort to get to know her?” “Kalia,” he said, exasperated. “I’m not competing with the other candidates.” It wasn’t until he said it that he knew it was true. “I”m competing with her not choosing anyone. She doesn’t need me. She doesn’t need anyone. If she doesn’t find someone to marry she can just leave. And then we’ll have another fucking civil war.”

For a separate conversation I had to go look up the name I'd made up for Morvran's little brother and in so doing I wound up rereading most of the FFP series so I'm finding all kinds of shit I've already said in there. Ciri had the exact thought above very early on, before she even arrived in Nilfgaard I think. But she didn't say so. (And yes, i'd meant initially to have there be more suspense over the other candidates, but then I just didn't create any good characters, so that fell by the wayside. It's fine, LOL, I don't think anyone really needed that to be a side plot. There's still room for someone cool to pop up. We'll see if I get to it.)

As I was rereading, I remembered that I made a deliberate choice sometime during the pandemic: I realized that it would take longer for me to edit and cut down the story to make the pacing taut, and given the givens of what was going on in the world, I wasn't going to do that. I was just going to post the long sprawling story as it was. And I've stuck to that. So it's just. This long sprawl with all these meandery side bits, and as part of that yeah, some stuff is kind of repeated.

I know it's working for a bunch of readers, and it's working for me, but sometimes I'm like oh my god why is this so long why didn't i make myself a style sheet why didn't i edit anything down ever. So, LOL, if you've ever been like hmmmm this story is getting kind of long, well you're not the first to have that thought. I used to treat fanfic as like, "practice" for "real" writing (publishing original works), which is still a thing I'd love to do and may well someday, and I know nothing published as an original work is going to sprawl like this, and the worldbuilding would be all different, but you know, it's not like I'm not learning stuff from sprawling like this. It's been a fun ride and I'm not done yet. But that doesn't mean there won't be deleted scenes; I can't include this conversation with Morvran and Kalia simply because the pacing of the chapter works better starting with the other POV, and it's not worth trying to shoehorn in a flashback.

(This is also making me remember another decision I made in the fog of lockdown, which was that I had to stop replying to comments temporarily, because I had such limited time and realized I was spending it all in lovely conversations in the comments instead of writing more material, and while that wasn't bad per se, I really needed to tell the rest of the story. And I still haven't gone back to catch up on replying to comments and I feel guilty about that. So if you've left lovely comments and I haven't answered that's why, there's a three-year backlog at this point, and I've answered a few but it's not necessarily because they were the best, it's more that they came in during a moment when I had time, spoons, attention, and mostly, just happened to click through and do the thing and hit post. Alas.)

#my writing #snippet #fit for pearls #meet death sitting #the witcher

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

I did it I did it I finished chapter one I did it

Someone should probably pat me on the head.

Fuck it I'll do it myself.

Bit shorter than my chapters usually are (I usually aim for 3k-4k words), but the stopping point just sort of served itself up to me on a silver platter and I couldn't resist.

So it's only like just over two thousand.

So this is the fan fiction I've mentioned a few times, with the OC whose character sheet I will link among my Masterlist alongside this fanfiction.

Enough rambling, here we go.

Hearing Problems

Chapter 1: A Deadly Challenge

Next Chapter Link

Tags: Slow-burn, Enemies to Lovers, eventually NSFW, uh, if I think of more I'll add them or something

Trigger Warnings: None for this chapter

Wordcount: 2.1k

After having her sloop sunk by the Buggy Pirates and losing moat of her worldly possessions in the process, the normally solitary mercenary Karimi Lionne finds herself teaming up with the rag-tag little crew that is the Strawhat Pirates to defeat them. She bonds with them far more quickly than she bargained for, and that quickly turns into a problem for the Kiku Kiku no Mi devil fruit user when she learns of Nami's plans to leave them high and dry, and Zoro issues a challenge at Baratie that he very likely won't live long enough to regret.

"Which one of you is Monkey D. Luffy?"

Karimi didn't even bother lifting her head at first. Slumped back into the elongated bench seat that wrapped around the railing of Baratie's bar, head tilted back against the back rest with her tricorne hat tilted down to cover her eyes, she was pretty sure she had gone a little too heavy on the rum. She didn't drink often when she was traveling alone, and she usually traveled alone.

"Who's asking?" she heard Nami ask from the seat next to her.

Everything had recently changed for Karimi, when the Buggy Pirates hired her to assist in retrieving a map of the Grand Line, and she had failed to get her hands on it before it was stolen by a different crew. Buggy had been enraged enough to sink her sloop as "compensation," leaving her stuck there until Buggy made the mistake of going after the crew that possessed the map he so coveted.

The crew in question had been more than happy to take her with them—at least, their captain had. The more the merrier, in Luffy's borderline empty head. Karimi had honestly enjoyed her time with them, and it didn't hurt that Luffy's idol, Red Haired Shanks, had been her own mentor for her first two years on the open sea. Luffy was easily as hilarious as he was infuriating—the young pirate was naive as they came, but he had enough heart to make up for it, a no-name with an ambition stronger than anyone else she had ever met.

And with someone inquiring about him in a renowned seafaring restaurant despite Luffy's relatively green career as a pirate.

Just as Karimi decided to lower her head and get a look at the inquirer, she heard Zoro speak up.

"You're Dracule Mihawk."

And she froze like a statue.

Zoro's words had such an instant sobering effect on her that she felt like her head was spinning. That was a name that she knew, a name that anyone who had been out on the ocean for as long as she had should know. Dracule Mihawk, one of the seven pirate warlords, a pirate so powerful that the World Government had chosen to ask him for an alliance rather than attempt to continue fighting him.

And the man standing at their table just to the left of Zoro, the man that Usopp had just introduced as his "new best friend", matched every description that Karimi had ever heard of him. From the broad-brimmed hat to the enormous greatsword to the piercing yellow eyes.

Those yellow eyes flickered between the four of them. "I have business with your captain."

Karimi thought her heart might have ceased beating for a when his eyes lingered on her own for a moment, before shifting back over to Zoro.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll hand him over."

"We don't know anyone named Luffy," said Nami, her voice cautiously aloof. "Right, Zoro?"

But that was absolutely no use, and Karimi knew it.

She could hear the whirlwind of thoughts swirling around in Zoro's head, and quickly realized what he was about to do, the idiotic words that he was about to let spill from his mouth. Without any concern for the fact that the others still didn't know about her devil fruit abilities, she quickly blurted out, "Zoro, for fuck's sake, don't—"

"I've been following your career since I was a child. It's an honor to finally meet you, sir."

Zoro didn't even hear her as he stood from his chair, speaking slowly, in a low and almost toneless voice.

If he was seriously going to challenge one of the most deadly pirates in the world to a fight to the death, Luffy needed to know—immediately.

Darcule Mihawk did hear her, his sharp yellow eyes flickering over to the girl for a moment as she stood, swearing under her breath and adjusting her hat before storming away from the table toward the kitchens.

Then back over to the green-haired young man. "Thank you," he said shortly, rolling his eyes a little.

"Which is why it pains me to inform you that tomorrow..." He paced a few steps across the deck. "You're going to die."

Usopp's jaw fell open, and the ginger haired girl sitting beside him sat up straighter, her eyes widening. "Wait, what?" she demanded.

"I, Roronoa Zoro, challenge you to a duel." Mihawk looked back over his shoulder, not bothering to hide his disinterest. "To the death."

The boy by far wasn't the first, and he certainly wouldn't be the last. Mihawk turned around to face him at this. "I've never heard of you," he said, with the air about him of shooing a fly away from the rum of his wine glass.

"They call me the Demon Pirate Hunter," said Zoro, leveling his eyes with Mihawk's. "But my lifelong dream is to best you in single combat and become the greatest swordsman in the world."

There wasn't the slightest ounce of intimidation in the younger swordsman's eyes; only a cold, unshakable confidence and resolve. Perhaps this would actually be interesting—certainly more interesting than chasing after this Luffy character that Vice Admiral Garp was so interested in.

"You're serious," he said after a moment."

"Accept my challenge," said Zoro, a ghost of a smirk on his face. "You'll see how serious I am."

"Very well." He walked forward in slow strides, and Zoro remained unblinking, unflinching. "Tomorrow at dawn. And when I'm done with you, pirate hunter..." Mikhawk stopped in front of him for a brief moment. "I'll take your captain."

There was no rush; while he suspected there was a bit more to the young swordsman than just bravado, Mihawk was sure it wouldn't be enough. It never was. He would handle this Zoro, take Monkey D. Luffy to Garp's ship, and be done with the Marines until they found some other menial task to waste his time with.

He took a refill on his wine at the bar and took a seat toward the corner of the deck, further out of plain sight, and watched silently the chaos unfold amongst the small crew.

The orage-haired girl barking at Usopp to go find Luffy before dragging Zoro off by the sleeve of his shirt.

The self-proclaimed "captain" hurrying g toward the kitchen, and nearly running headlong into the other two of their number—a lanky, dark-haired boy in a very familiar straw hat, and the girl who had earlier stormed away from the table before Zoro had even begun to let his borderline suicidal challenge slip out.

She turned her head, her sharp green eyes honing in on his gaze for a brief moment, as if she knew exactly where he was seated on the crowded deck.

Then she gave the boy he could only assume was Luffy a sharp shove at the back of his shoulder, and the three hurried off to the exit.

It was an exceedingly rare thing that the Pirate warlord found himself taken aback. Leaning back in his seat, his head cooked slightly to one side as he watched the trio disappear. There might have been more to this than he originally suspected, more to this ragtag group of "pirates"—especially if Luffy was wearing the hat of Red Haired Shanks, a hat that had been given to the now infamous captain by Gol D. Roger himself.

And the girl.

Perhaps she could have simply inferred her crewmate's intention to challenge him—but the way she had turned her head on leaving the kitchens, turned her head and fixed her gaze immediately upon him....

That was something different.

Almost as if she had read his mind.

It was a bit of a disturbing thought, but also a fairly absurd one. There was every possibility she had trained in haki, though she did appear to be rather young to be able to use it that effectively. Such things weren't unheard of, but they certainly weren't common.

Still...she was a curious little bird.

He turned his gaze down to his wine glass, swilling the burgundy liquid with a small, thoughtful frown before taking a sip.

Perhaps it was just intriguing enough to find out more.

# # # # # #

Zoro wasn't budging, and Luffy wasn't helping.

Luffy was encouraging the sheer idiocy of his first mate's challenge, and Karimi had to remove herself from their presence before the temptation to wring both of their necks became too great for her to resist. Remove herself from the Going Merry entirely, taking with her a cheap bottle of wine that she had stashed away among her few belongings that hadn't sunk to the bottom of the sea with her sloop only days earlier.

She sat down heavily on the dock several yards away from the Merry, pulling the cork out of her wine and spitting it into the water before taking a long drink.

God, did she miss traveling alone.

Doing as she pleased, making her own way, taking on jobs from crews that needed the subtle touch of stealth and precision.

Not answering to anything but her own whim.

Not caring about anyone but herself.

She had so quickly come to see the boys almost as annoying yet still somewhat endearing little brothers. Nami was more distant, but that was understandable, given her situation with the Arlong pirates and her village, a matter Karimi had intended to talk with her about tonight before the younger girl's plans to leave the following morning with the map of the Grand Line and not a word to anyone came to fruition. Talk to her, try to help advise her even if she did plan on leaving, to make sure she was safe.

But right now, she didn't want to so much as look at any of them—much less continue to hear their bickering echoing around in her head. Everything was falling apart and she wanted nothing to do with it.

She tugged her boots off aggressively where she sat, followed by her socks, shifted forward to the edge of the of the dock, and slowly hung her legs over the side.

A shiver crept over her as she lowered her feet into the cool saltwater, her eyes slipping shut amid a small sigh—much of her strength left her body, yes, but so did the inane chatter of everyone else's thoughts that had constantly filler her head for the entire twenty years since she had eaten that damnable devil fruit.

She had been no older than four, and she didn't really remember doing it. Didn't know how she had gotten her hands on the thing, save for the fact that it had been on her father's ship. What the Kiku Kiku no Mi had granted her felt far more like a curse than a blessing compared to other devil fruit powers she had seen and heard of. Luffy, able to stretch himself like rubber and make himself impervious to so many types of attacks. Her father, able to control the wind itself. Her grandmother's mastery over water.

Marine Admiral Jackson "Volcano" Vesper, who's powers and revenge-driven madness had burned the village she had grown up in to the ground before he killed her grandmother in front of her and—

Karimi gritted her teeth, clenched her eyes shut and took another deep swig from the cheap Merlot before her thoughts could drift any further into the past. She set the bottle down heavily, lying back on the docks with a hand subconsciously shifting to the top of her head to hold her grandmother's old hat in place.

"Devil fruit, then, is it?"

Karimi stiffened like a statue at the sound of the drawling voice overhead. She swallowed.

Her blood ran cold, racing through her veins as her pulse quickened.

All she had wanted to do was catch a buzz. Calm her nerves enough to go confront Nami, and now...this.

For a long moment she remained laying there on the dock, not daring to move. Not daring to even open her eyes.

Then, taking a slow, deep breath, she let them slowly drift open, meeting the piercing yellow gaze of the pirate warlord standing over her once again.

Next Chapter Link Again for your convenience

#dracule mihawk #opla #mihawk one piece #one piece fanfiction #fanfic #mihawk opla #opla fanfiction #mihawk x oc #mihawk

[kay-then-i-guess]

This redesign page of my Roleshuffle AU Techno has been sitting in my drafts for a while, so let's talk my Techno design! I already have a post discussing why I made him based off an overworld pig, so check that out first if you haven't seen it. I can't really summarize it.

Something I'm doing to show "the voices" getting louder without having to use text is making his pupils get bigger, and potentially have little red glints. I know normally the more insane a character gets, the smaller their pupils gets, but I wanted him to appear a little more animalistic. While the small pupils give a very manic, crazed look, I wanted Techno to look completely focused--almost too focused. As aforementioned, animalistic. I probably won't get to the point of what actual pig eyes look like (fully black with the whites in the back), but I do want to get a similar idea across. This choice also makes him look less aware of any dialogue going on, which I is something I've been trying to do with "the voices". No thoughts, only Blood For the Blood God.

Also! I swear during a Techno stream he had a skin with a blue sweater. Maybe I dreamed it, because I couldn't find it anywhere, but I distinctly remember his chat teasing him for it, with him responding "It's a sweater!" But I digress. Perhaps I just imagined that.

Below is the original design I had for him, and was one of the first design sheets I did (if not the first ever; I don't particularly remember). I was originally not leaning into such a cartoon-y style, but I really got into that style as I started actually making the comic. (His mildly realistic teeth in that top left image haunts me.) In other notes, I think either because of the way I did his legs originally or the way I did his head originally (both were a bit elongated), he didn't look short. Part of that is because if you measure out his full-body shot, every portion of him is roughly the same length. I.E. his head is the same length as his torso, and his torso is the same length as the legs. If you take any character design course, one of the things they'll probably note is that for unique character designs, it's a good idea to mess around with proportions (both length and width). It's tough to figure out, but once you have that idea in, you can make your characters look more unique. For instance, while Techno's longest bit is his torso, in width, he has smaller legs and a bit smaller head. On the other hand, Ranboo's longest bit is his legs, and in width, the widest part is his head (if you count his little floppy-ear-thingamajigs). I really struggled implementing this tip for a while, but woooo, once I did, my designs got a lot better. I still could stand to put it in more, to be honest haha.

Also, personal note: I didn't mean to go on such a long break, but finals have been rough (3 essays, all at least seven pages...yikes). Anyways, I'm going to have a lot to catch up on, but I AM NOT DEAD. The comic will go on! It just might take a bit, and I thank all of you for your patience! :) (Also, I'm still running character asks if you're interested!)

#dsmp #dream smp #dsmp au #artists on tumblr #dsmp comic #dsmp roleshuffle #dsmp fanart #mcytblr #mcyt #mcytbr #mcyt tag #mcyt fanart #dsmp techno #dsmp technoblade #technoblade #mcyt art #mcyt technoblade

[regulus-cannot-swim]

Dancing in the Rain

The rain came down in sheets, drenching everything in sight. Most people had sought shelter, but not Kaz Brekker. He stood in the middle of the street, his hood pulled up over his head, and a cigarette between his lips.

You had been walking with him, enjoying the sound of the rain and the way the drops felt on your skin. You had no idea where he was taking you until you found yourselves standing in an empty square in the heart of the Barrel. You turned to look at him, but before you could say anything, he took your hand and pulled you into a dance.

It wasn't just any dance. It was slow and deliberate, the kind of dance that spoke volumes without using words. You followed his lead, swaying to the rhythm of the storm. It was like he knew exactly what you needed, and you loved him all the more for it.

As you danced with Kaz, you felt the world around you change. The rain no longer felt cold and damp—it felt refreshing, like it was washing away all your worries. There was something intimate about the way he held you, the way he looked at you. You couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your heart.

The dance ended too soon, leaving you both standing in the rain, breathless. You gazed up into Kaz's dark eyes, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. His kiss was gentle at first, but then it became more urgent, like he needed to be as close to you as possible.

You responded just as urgently, savoring the taste of his lips and the feel of his hands on your waist. The rain continued to pour down, and the thunder rumbled in the distance, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was this moment, this kiss, this man.

When you finally

Apologies for the confusion. Here's the completed story:

When you finally pulled away from Kaz, gasping for air, you looked at him with a smile on your lips. The rain had plastered your hair against your face, and your clothes were soaked, but you couldn't have been happier.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," Kaz said, his voice low.

"Me too," you replied, still breathless.

He took your hand and began to lead you back through the streets of the Barrel, the rain still falling around you. You didn't know where he was taking you, and you didn't care. All that mattered was that you were with him.

As you walked, you thought about the different aspects of Kaz's character that both fascinated and intrigued you. He was different from anyone you had ever met, a complicated mix of vulnerability and ruthlessness. Despite his reputation and the fear he inspired in others, you knew there was something tender and emotional underneath his armor.

The rain had eased up by the time you arrived at your destination, the Crow Club. Kaz pushed open the door, and you stepped inside, surprised at how different it looked from the last time you had been there. It was dimly lit, and the air was thick with the smell of smoke and alcohol. People were clustered around the bar, and a group of musicians were playing in the corner.

Kaz led you over to a table in the back, away from the noise and the eyes of the other patrons. He sat down opposite you, his gaze intense. For a moment, you just looked at each other, neither of you saying anything.

Finally, Kaz spoke. "I don't know what the future holds, Y/N. But I know that I want you in my life."

You leaned forward, taking his hand. "I want that too, Kaz. I want to be with you."

He smiled, a rare thing that lit up his face and made your heart skip a beat. "Then let's see where this takes us."

As the night wore on, you remained in the Crow Club with Kaz, listening to the music and talking about the future. You didn't know what the future held, but you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be, with the man you loved, in the heart of the Barrel.

#kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker x reader imagines #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x reader #y/n #six of crows #six of crows imagine #six of crows fic #six of crows x reader

[thelovelymissbigbadwolf]

The RPG disaster

Cloud always wanted to play RPG with his friends (if he were to have any) and he decided to go the simple way, something that he felt more safe leaning towards such as 7th Sea.

So he talks to everyone and explains that the system allows for a more theatrical kind of battle and that combat isn't the focus of it all, but rather their fun.

Sephiroth is interested, he's already been through combat enough daily and feels like it could be a break to not think too much about combat.

Genesis is DELIGHTED in the possibility of showing off his theatrical abilities.

Zack is super excited and supportive of his buddy.

Angeal isn't as thrilled as the others, as he never was a theater kid like Genesis for example nor have he ever had much interest in it at first, but decided to join them anyway.

Cloud then marks a day they can all have a session zero so he can help out with their sheets.

He sends each a copy of the playerbook and tells them to read about the nations and jobs and just think of something simple. Again, simple. It backfired horribly.

The session zero day came and Genesis has a total of 20 pages on his character's lore. Front and back.

Cloud: I am not reading this.

Genesis: What do you mean you're not reading?! It's your job. You have to know my character's lore.

Cloud: Genesis, I told you guys to make it simple. In what universe are 20 pages front and back SIMPLE?!

Genesis: Oh, PLEASE! I didn't even made his family tree!

Cloud: YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO!

At that moment, Zack had arrived with some energy drinks.

Zack: Heeeee-ey, what's going on?

Cloud: You see this?! *Flips the twenty pages* THIS is Genesis' character lore!

Genesis: It's just twenty pages! You read over four hundred pages of a RPG book just to deny my twenty pages?!

Zack: But he said it was supposed to be simple.

Genesis: IT IS!

Zack: Why twenty pages of lore, then?!

Genesis: I could've written a book on my character, but NO! I got soft and did something simple!

Cloud: UGH WHATEVER I'LL READ IT! But I'm gonna cut what I find useless, understand?

Genesis: Fine.

Cloud takes a marker and marks 95% percent of everything. Genesis is appalled.

Cloud: Alright. The ones that aren't mark, write it down somewhere.

Genesis: You've butchered him, my poor Jacques!

Cloud: I've improved it. Alright, lemme see yours, Zack.

Zack: On it! *He gives him a picture of Dante from Devil May Cry*

Cloud: ...? I don't get it, is this what your character looks like?

Zack: Nah, I'm gonna play as Dante!

Cloud: *sighes* Alright, that's something you can do. But, I'd REALLY rather you'd just do it from scratch, Zack.

Zack: Oh, okay.

Zack shrugs and borrows Cloud's book to check nations and jobs.

At that point, Angeal and Sephiroth had arrived, the two with the physical copies of the books in hands.

Cloud: What the hell? I sent you guys a digital copy, when did you... You know what, whatever. You guys came up with your characters?

Angeal: Yes, his name's Gerald and he's gonna be the healer.

Cloud: Oh, okay. Quite simple, what about the lore?

Angeal: What does a Star Trek character has to do with it?

Cloud: Oh god... Sephiroth, PLEASE, tell me you have something we can work with.

Sephiroth: Yes, my character is Trevor, he's from Inismore, a duelist, decided to focus on finesse since it'll serve lots when doing acrobatics on a boat. He was born on the capital, but moved to the coast. *Hands it over a character sheet PERFECTLY done*

Cloud: Oh! That's more like it! Simple, original and you even took into consideration the secret arts! Nice going.

Sephiroth: I also studied the rules and other nations and jobs. I can help correcting them.

Cloud: Oh, okay? Well, you got the character sheet right, why don't you go ahead with helping Zack with his character? I'm gonna help Angeal and Genesis is grounded because he overdid himself.

After that, Cloud sat down with Angeal and started to distributing the points. Angeal started arguing over his characters age affecting his points, because no matter the age, he had a good training routine and diet will help lots on a old age.

Cloud argues that affects jack shit in an RPG and they started yelling at each other.

Zack asks Sephiroth about Inismore and he started explaining the lore.

Genesis: You cut uncle Archibald?! He's the reason Jacques learns piano in the first place!

Angeal and Cloud are STILL arguing over the fact that his character can use magic and fight at the same time.

Cloud tries to explain that his character can't learn Hexe because he isn't born in Eisen.

Angeal argues that he fought in the war for thirty years and he can.

Cloud refutes that he wasn't born in Eisen. And thus, can't learn their magic.

Zack asks Sephiroth about Eisen, of which he starts explaining.

Genesis: How dare you cut my clarinet lessons out?! They were the therapeutical relief Jacques needed after his grandfather felt from his horse!

Now Angeal is arguing over not wanting to leave his mother behind and wanting to take her along so he can heal her illness.

Cloud refutes that it's gonna be a unnecessary drag for their session, since that would distract him too much.

Angeal counter argues that he won't leave without his mother.

Cloud tries to explain how much of a dead weight a ill relative would be at their one-shot.

Sephiroth tosses his book at Cloud.

Sephiroth: Do not talk like this of his mother!

Cloud gets pissed, but Angeal stops him from tossing the book back at Sephiroth.

Angeal: Thanks, Seph, but I can handle myself.

Sephiroth: You better be.

Angeal: ... You're not gonna romance my mother.

Sephiroth: WHY NOT?!

Genesis: NO! WHY CUT LITTLE LISA?! SHE'S JUST A BABY!

Cloud: EXACTLY! A BABY THAT, QUOTING YOU, IS A SEVENTH GRADE RELATIVE THAT YOUR CHARACTER DOESN'T EVEN KNOW!

A huge fight ensues, Zack is drinking his energy drink and eating chips as he just sees chaos ensue.

Sephiroth tries to hit Cloud, but punches Genesis.

Genesis pulls Angeal's hair.

Angeal tries to hit Genesis, but hits Sephiroth.

The trio started fighting and Cloud sneaked out of there, seating by Zack's side. He takes a energy drinks and the two share potato chips.

Later that night, the five are called in Lazard's office.

Tabletop RPGs are now forbidden in the SOLDIER floor.

#ff7 #ff7r #zack fair #ccff7 #ccff7r #cloud strife #ffvii #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #rpg #7th sea #crisis core final fantasy vii

[thestrongestmen]

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁'𝘀 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿?

➺ Character: Silco

➺ Reader: afab!reader

➺ Words: 2 830

➺ Chapter: Prologue

➺ Summary: He has a plan for Zaun, more important than you, more important than your son. For the sake of your people, you turn a blind eye to his negligence. Until he brings home that little girl.

➺ Warning: Angst.

➺ A/n: It's been a week since I discovered that I have a real soft spot for Silco, thanks to the many excellent fanfics I've had the pleasure of discovering. It's made me want to take another look at Arcane and enjoy all Silco's appearances. I'm new to the fandom, so I hope to do you, long-time readers of Silco fanfics, proud. English is not my first language. Sorry for the mistakes.

"Honestly…Days of silence and he only talks to me to ask me something." You murmur with a weary sigh.

You rummage through his desk, cursing under your breath at the ton of paper that's strewn everywhere. How are you supposed to find a file amongst all this paperwork? You mutter your dissatisfaction with each sheet you briefly examine. Caught up in your own world, you don't notice the door opening slightly or even the faint creaking of the old wooden floor.

"Boo!"

You shout, turning to see a child exploding with laughter, giving you the biggest smile you've ever seen on the face of a Zaun child. A breath of relief escapes you, but in revenge to pat the top of his head with a leaf file you had in your hand. Once you've got over your fright, the air in the room becomes calmer again, with small talk and laughter from the child who is working with you to find the famous file. After a few minutes, you finally get your hands on what your husband has asked you for. What a relief, you can finally bring it to him without too much delay. You were worried that the last few weeks might have affected his patience.

"Can I come with you? Please, please, please!" "You know…your father-"

Your next words immediately die in your mouth, unable to continue as your child's eyes shine with a pleading gleam, full of hope and despair. You knew he missed his father. You missed him too. Waking up in the cold, empty bed for weeks didn't ease the weight in your stomach. You knew you shouldn't, but you finally gave in. As you sigh, your son knows he's won. He jumps up on the sofa and laughs with joy.

"Don't jump on the sofa." Scold yourself gently.

He continues to laugh and jump on the sofa. A smile stretches your lips and you roll the sleeves of your shirt up over your elbows.

"You little rascal, come here so I can catch you."

You rush over to him, catching the frail body in your hands, lifting him up by his armpits. You turn together, lifting the little monster above you. He spreads his arms out to either side, as if imitating a flying bird. And when the game ends, he's in your arms, your son clinging to your neck, his legs closed around your hip. One of your arms holds him under his bottom while the other holds the papers firmly.

"Let's go and visit your father. And don't forget-" "I have to stay close to you and not do anything stupid, or he'll be angry." Repeats your son in a mechanical voice, reciting the rules like a poem instilled in him over and over again until the phrase becomes as natural as breathing. "Good boy." You kiss his forehead, leaving your house for the warehouse where your husband works.

You don't exaclty know what he's working on, only a few things. But one thing's for sure, you're not going to be in this building with your child for long. The air is thick and heavy. The dilapidated, empty vastness makes your heels thud against the asphalt. Only the purple vines break up the urban aspect of the place with a slimy, terrifying organic aspect. Your grip closes on your child, forcing him even tighter against your chest. The instinct to protect awakens. A lioness ready to sink her fangs into the slightest threat. You summon up all your courage, praying to the gods that your nervousness doesn't affect your son. It seems to be working, as your son shakes his legs, humming happily at the thought of finally being able to see his father. The smile on his lips and his eyes curiously exploring his surroundings, as if his father could be in every shadow of the disused factory. As the minutes pass and you wander along the corridors, your arm tires. The exhaustion fire spreads through the muscles in your arm, forcing you to lower your son to the ground, taking him by the hand so that he doesn't wander off into this dangerous factory.

And finally you see that glow. The orange flames of the forges. The rhythmic sound of hammers on hot iron echoes in your ears. You're on a catwalk above the workers. Some are striking the glowing iron, others are dipping their hot blades into a bucket of water. A perfectly executed dance. A well-executed secret enterprise. You feel your son tugging at your hand as he leans against the metal railings, intrigued by the novelty.

"Don't lean too far." You say. "You there."

You turn to see Sevika standing at the other end of the catwalk, arms crossed under her chest, watching you with the utmost indifference. She works for your husband, serving him so faithfully. Perhaps we can even speak of a touch of respect for him, a feeling that doesn't extend to you and even less to the child hiding behind your leg. You see her eyebrows furrow momentarily before she gives you a strange smile.

"This should be fun." "Where is he?" You ask, ignoring her innuendo. "In the laboratory. You know the way."

You nod, pulling your son's hand to guide him along with you, passing Sevika whose gaze doesn't linger on you any longer. You pucker your lips into a thin line, was he in a bad mood for her to be amused to see your son here when he is forbidden access? Everything should be fine if he's in your company and under good guard. It's just a short visit, a brief exchange. You calm your inflamed nerves as your steps take you closer and closer to the laboratory. The orange light from the flames of the makeshift forge fades to an unnatural purple. No matter how many times you come here, you can never get used to the creepy atmosphere.

"Silco. Next time, put your papers away, will you? It's hard to find what you want in all this mess." You scoff with a frank laugh as you hand him the file he wanted.

You take a moment to detail his look. His hair is still flat against his head, even if a few rebellious strands caress his forehead. His attire is always impeccable, a great man surrounded by thugs. He looks like a king ruling his people and you have no doubt that he will succeed in achieving his goals. Your eyes are lost on the movement of his fingers as they slide along the papers in a caress that sends you back to your vivid imagination. You can almost feel his fingers sliding up your thighs…

"Thank you, little bird." He says, flicking through the papers briefly before returning to you, a smile at the corners of his lips. He had caught you looking at him, lost in thought. He knew what you were imagining. You quickly look away at the Shimmer, in an attempt to distract yourself. "Do you want to see the Shimmer's progress, before you go home?" "No thanks, I've already seen the trial phase and had enough violence for a decade at least." You groan in discomfort, clearly remembering that poor cat's corpse being eviscerated by that mouse. Earning a mocking sniff from your lover. "I wouldn't want that-"

A gasp leaves you as you finally realise that your hand that was holding your son's is free. The look on your face confirms what worried you most: your son is no longer with you. As the realisation hits you, a loud noise echoes through the factory as if a great deal of glass has just exploded. Your heart races as anguish tortures your stomach. It doesn't take more than a second for your body to start running towards the source of the noise before your mind decides to do so. Instinct. You bite your lower lip, you should have been more careful!

You hoped you were wrong, but you're not. Standing before you is a storage room covered in shards of glass that glisten in the dark purple liquid. In the middle of this dark spectacle sits your son, his knees bloodied and the palms of his hands bruised by the shattered glass. He is looking at you, his eyes glistening with tears. He is panicking. He is suffering. He is totally incomprehensible. You don’t know what´s happened to bring him to this catastrophe, but you could imagine his discomfort and fear at having to face the wrath of everyone in the room, including his father. His eyes widen, staring at a specific point behind you. Ah. Silco is arrived.

The silence is heavy. You feel your limbs tremble under the pressure. Everyone is waiting for them to get angry or bark virulent reproaches. You force a brave expression onto your face as you approach your child to allay his fears. A vain attempt when he is blinded by the sole presence of his father, who towers far above your tenderness.

"You two, with me". Is all he says before storming off down a corridor, ordering some of the onlookers to mend this mess.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"I told you not to bring him here." Silco sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in the hope of pushing through an intense headache. "He wanted to spend time with you. You're his father, but he's seen more of Sevika in a week than he has of you in months." You scold in defence of your son. "I'm running a project that will revolutionise the way Zaun will live. There's so much to do and not much time to do it in. I don't have time to play tea party with him. You should understand that." He replies, his lips puckered in displeasure. "He only wanted to come with me to see you. He miss you!" "And his coming destroyed an important shipment of Shimmer!" He growls, tired of the days of work, tired of the problems that get in his way, tired of his son and tired of you. "He's a child! He didn't do it on purpose! You can create it again but you've only got one child with a heart you'll end up breaking!" "Little bird, do you even realise how much effort he has destroyed by his mere presence? It will take us weeks to redo everything, it's far too much! A child's heart is not worth Zaun's future."

You remain silent, unable to shake off the stinging pain in your heart that he has just reduced to nothing. Your throat knots, as if the emotions you're feeling are preventing you from replying. It's your child's pathetic sob, hitherto silent, that jolts you out of your shock. You watch his tear-stained face, struggling to contain his sadness at his father's harsh words, and yet trying with every ounce of his being to remain quiet and dignified so as not to disturb him any further. And it destroys you. You force an impassive expression onto your features as you stare at Silco. Your tongue runs over your dry lips to moisten them. Your throat is pasty but you ignore your discomfort.

"Why did you decide to fight for Zaun?" You ask suddenly. Quiet and monotone. "For the respect we are due." He replies fervently, driven by ambition and annoyance at previous events.

Your lips part. And suddenly Silco's shoulders slump, as if he's just realised something important. You don't know what's going through his mind, you don't want to know. All you do is take your son in your arms and leave the laboratory without a backward glance, despite the roar of your first name. You refuse to turn back.

Quickly, your footsteps take you out of the factory. You don't even notice that you've been standing in front of your door for minutes. Your chest heaves frantically, as if you've just run a marathon. Perhaps it was, anger pulsing through your veins, providing your muscles with a monstrous source of energy to escape the building. He hadn't followed you…you don't know whether you're glad he didn't or not.

As you enter the house, you place your child on the sofa in the living room. You leave him for a moment to get some disinfectant alcohol and bandages. Accessories that are difficult to access but which you had managed to steal on one of your rare expeditions across the bridge.

"It's going to hurt." You warn.

Your son nods and clenches his shirt into his tiny fists, waiting with closed eyes for a searing pain to shoot through his body. It didn't miss. He sobs painfully as the alcohol soaks into his wounds. He squirms in your grip and you are forced to hold him still to prevent his wounds from becoming infected. Despite your heart aching to see your son cry, you know it's for his own good. You can't afford to let his wounds get any worse.

"I know, I know… it's going to be okay, angel." You whisper against his forehead, your lips kissing the top of his head. "It's all my fault… It's my fault that if it broke and now dad is angry. It's my fault he's never home… It's my fault you fight." "No, it's not! Absolutely not! Hey, sweetheart. Look at me." You cup his face between your hands, inviting him to look at you. Your eyes fill with tears at the broken state of your son, who blames himself for everything. "It's not your fault. Dad is just tired, OK? He was very mean but I'm sure he didn't mean it, all right? But it's not all your fault. Daddy is working very hard for our future, that's why he's not here, okay? When he comes home you'll apologise, won't you? I'm sure he'll forgive you."

Your son nods shyly, sniffing at the snot running down his nose. You wipe the tears from his cheeks and then his nose with the sleeve of your shirt, then rock him with affection and love until late at night, when he finally manages to fall asleep in your arms. This argument has affected him enormously…if only you hadn't given in and left him at home. No…it's not entirely your fault, you didn't want to take on all the responsibility and guilt because you know that Silco was also at fault for being cruel to a child.

Tomorrow you'll go and see him again to talk to him once you've put your minds at rest. Maybe you can have a civilised discussion that way. Finally, abandoning the idea of getting into your pyjamas so as not to wake your child, you lie down in your marital bed, looking down at your son curled up against your chest. Silco won't be there all night, so you can leave this little bundle of joy with you.

Tomorrow will be a better day.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The morning goes smoothly. Your son regains a certain youthful gaiety, playing with his toys, close to the front door as if watching for the moment when his father will cross the threshold. You decide not to send him away, perhaps because it reassures him and gives him a certain comfort. You can't blame your son for hoping to reconcile with his father. He was an important figure for him, an idol, a star. You can imagine that for your child, Silco is an important part of his life that he doesn't want to disappoint. A child's desire to please his parents, to have their undivided attention, just like when he was younger. Perhaps Silco's distancing himself from his work is hard for the poor child, who was used to being with two parents instead of one. You shake your head, pushing your futile conjectures from your thoughts. Instead you return to cook a dish that your older brother used to prepare for you when you were younger and easily saddened. That sweet, warm dish still soothed your torments to this day.

The sound of a key turning in the lock draws you out of the cooking. You strained your ear to hear your son's impatient noises, which brought a smile to your face. Today was definitely going to be a better day.

"Dad, dad is back! Dad I'm sor-"

Your son's voice fades to a whisper without finishing his sentence. Curious, you leave the kitchen, wiping your hands in a dishcloth as you walk to the front door where you see your husband holding a little blue-haired girl in his arms. A frail figure clinging to him like a wild animal cornered by danger. You feel your fingers tighten around the fabric, looking at your husband with apprehension.

"I intend to take care of that girl from now on."

Your eyes widen. He…plans to father another child?

#arcane x reader #silco x reader #silco arcane #arcane #arcane league of legends

[reimeichan]

How did you all figure out you were a system? -🪭

It depends on who you're asking.

For Purple, she was always open to the idea that the world had a lot of unexplainable phenomena that our current knowledge of science and stuff may not be able to address. When we were 12, she was looking online for ways to flesh out OCs, and one of the suggestions was to talk to said OC as if you were giving them an interview. So she asked said "OC" some questions and had him answer them. "What's your favorite color?" she asked. "Gray," I said. "No, that's wrong! I made you, I know your favorite color is green! I put it down on your character sheet!" she said back. I shrugged, and, confused, replied back, "It's definitely gray, I don't know what to tell you." And in that moment she knew she shared a brain with another entity, though she dared not label her experiences as DID at the time.

For Green, in high school he had joined a new online community who noted how his personality would occasionally just *drastically* shift. This personality shift was due to him and Purple switching at the time, and Purple, already in the know, would end up telling this new community how they likely had some sort of "multiple personality" thing going on but would never presume for it to be DID without a proper diagnosis. Those words alone were enough for Green to realize that Purple truly was a separate identity from him, and though he was shocked at first, he and Purple really leaned into the "multiple personalities", even giving themselves different halves of our online username at the time.

For me... well, I'm a fusion of a few parts. One part of me, the Gray that Purple met and mistook for an OC, knew around the same time as her. I was in denial for much longer, but constant pestering from her made me finally accept that she and I were at least separate consciousnesses within the same brain.

Another part of me was blissfully unaware until we nearly died in 2020. I won't go into detail how it happened, but it was sudden and out of nowhere, and though nobody was too greatly injured, the shock was enough for me to fully dissociate away from the situation. However, we still needed someone to actually be in the body and move it around, so out of desperation our gatekeeper (the "mistaken for OC Gray") pushed out the first alter he could find... and that happened to be Rouge, our sexual alter. Let me just paint the picture here real quick: I've told everyone around me that I'm asexual, somewhat sex-repulsed, and had no plans to ever be sexual with anyone. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, I'm on Tinder witht the sluttiest profile I can muster up, swiping right on anyone and everyone who I even remotely may be interested in a one-night hookup. All because I nearly died. I woke up in the morning to hundreds of matches and even a planned fuckdate. All of this, might I remind you all of the timing, in the middle of a pandemic that we at the time did not have a vaccine for yet. Horrified by what I found in the morning, I canceled the fuckdate, deleted my account, and uninstalled the app.

And though that was still not enough for me to accept I have DID, that sure did open some doors.

Then, in 2022, my then-partner and I had a long talk. They were getting tired of my memory issues and no amount of writing things down seemed to be enough for them. I seemed to have incredibly inconsistent and even contradictory boundaries that they couldn't keep track of. I blamed everything on my ADHD, of course. I didn't have amnesia, other than what I assumed were short term memory issues to the point I may have missed something they said 5 minutes ago. "Oh, sorry, I was spacing out," I would say. Eventually she got so fed up that she said, "you never space out when we're having fun conversations! it's only when you're stressed out because I'm pointing out things you've done badly that you tend to space out!"

And I went. Oh. Fuck.

That's not spacing out.

Slapped in the face with the reality that I wasn't simply "spacing out" from ADHD unfocus but due to some kind of dissociation, and given the ultimatum that if I didn't change then they would break up with me, I was forced to sit on those feelings and really dig into why I was so dissociative, so forgetful, and so inconsistent. And I knew the reason, I did, but I couldn't get myself to admit to it. God, it couldn't be me. I tried so hard to convince myself that the disorder I had on-and-off considered my entire life didn't apply to me, that maybe I was misunderstanding the diagnostic criteria, or I was misinterpreting my symptoms, or that I somehow had convinced myself I had these symptoms because I wanted them to feel... special? Validated? I don't know.

I found myself a therapist who had a long history of working with dissociative and trauma clients. She helped me unravel a lot of those feelings of shame and denial. She used a few different tools to eventually diagnose me with DID. She validated my experiences, and helped me through so much initial stabilization that I'm so very grateful for her help those first 10 months.

So, yeah. That's how we found out we have DID.

#did #dissociative identity disorder #actually did #actuallydid #did osdd #osddid #cdd #personal #by gray #about green #about purple #we've been meaning to write this for a long time #so thank you for the ask #the-bumblebee-system #the bumblebee system

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

What You Need

A/N: too many au fantasy fics where Jordan is the fine ass neighborhood weedman consume me lately. Someone help! 😭 Also, I hope its clear when I refer to J as they or he and she. They when I or a character is vaguely talking about them in general; he or she to help differentiate between their ability to transition or whoever your being intimate with at the time. I hope that makes sense. Just wanted to put my own flavor on my stories but still respect the proper pronouns. I'd love feedback on my Jordan li fics. And please remember, these fics can take a long time to write so pretty please don't flag them as your content consumption is your responsibility. Anyway enjoy!

I step out my brand new stark white BMW, rolling my narrowed eyes as I scan the immediate vicinity. Not payin no mind to the group of dudes starin my way a few cars down, I realize Jordans ass aint nowhere to be found. Too many times over the years of em bein my connect, this mf done made me walk up them damn rickety stairs to grab my sack when they lyin ass specifically promised to be in the lot.

I'm already inna rush to get to my date with Dre. That's why was tryna get a little relaxation; I really didn't wanna show up all tense and hit him with all this attitude at once. A little me time to calm my nerves would do my ass some good after this nightmarish day. And maybe if the date goes well enough, Andre could gimme a hand with that too. Though its impossible to deny if the plug wasn't such a fuck boy, I'd be tryin to give them this work instead. But in no way am I finna compete with any of the hoes on their team.

Bending to reach into my ride, I snatch my cell from the cup holder and slam my car door. My nails click clack across the screen as I text Jordan. I'm already teetering on the edge of insanity so I'm not in the mood to be late or deal with their cocky ass attitude. This was so not supposed to be one of my usual pick ups that lasted over half an hour cause of their antics.

Me: you told me you'd be in the lot when I pulled up.

Not more than 10 seconds go by before I get a response.

This Fuckin Guy: my bad cutie, jus cum up here.

Me: i already let you know I had plans and to be down here this time.

This Fuckin Guy: ik but I had to serve last min. damn.

I roll my eyes as I read the word 'serve'. Yeah, they probably up there servin some lil bitch on her back. For some reason that thought got me on 10.

Me: cus you always wastin my time boy. but fine, i'm comin up.

Me: and my shit better be ready too.

This Fuckin Guy: whatchu need again?

This Fuckin Guy: nvm, Daddy knows exactly what you need..

This Fuckin Guy:

Nibbling my bottom lip softly, I stare at the pic of they fine ass way longer than I'd ever admit to em. Fuck, they just don't realize how many times I've woken up from random scenes of them starin at me like that before diggin me out. Panties and sheets be so fuckin drenched with my juices when I slid my fingers between my lower lips and replayed em back in my mind over and over.

It's so fuckin Jordan to be on standby waitin for some snarky ass remark back, I'm sure of it. But I dont give them the satisfaction, continuing to climb the stairs carefully in my dainty heels.

And I'm absolutely proud of the way I ignore the pounding and slick building between my thighs as I head up the last step and briskly walk to Jordan's apt. Damn I feel a bit pathetic from gettin so horny from a photo that wasn't even a shirtless, nude or dick pic.

I don't even get a chance to knock on the door as an attractive slim blonde with a messy bun and black skin tight leggings opens it. Her expression a bit shocked at first as we briefly stare at each other before she gives me a small smile and quickly walks towards the staircase. Of fuckin course they have some damn bimbo on her way out as I'm coming up. Typical fuckin Jordan. Can't even deny the girl was kinda bad though; that lil fact gone get Jordan popped fa sho.

"Really? Tryna fuck me right after you jus slid in sumn? Nasty ass.." I throw insults at them as soon as I step inside, slamming the door in hopes the lil hoe hears.

"Fuck you on about now?" Jordan's voice is bored from her spot on the couch as she rolls up, not even bothering to look my way.

"I'm speakin on the fact that you tryna hit right now but you got some broad leavin as I'm comin up. Like, the fuck?"

These hands rated E for everyone and they know that. I put a hand on my curvy hip and stare em down. Smoke is finna start steamin out my ears at Jordan's nonchalant behavior. Walkin up to the couch I flop down on the opposite side, full lips pressed into a thin line. Unfortunately my gaze melts more into eye fucking than the daggers I was jus hittin em with as I notice how attractive they are, so damn focused rollin the perfect blunt.

"I ain't fuck her." Tone of voice resembling one to use with a child; clearly she think I'm playin.

I follow the line the tip of her tongue makes as she finishes rolling the blunt. Damn, how I need to feel them doing that allover my fuckin body. I pray Jo ain't got super senses too, like I would just die inside if she could actually smell how wet I was for them right now.

"That right? Then why shawty hair was messy? And why you lookin relaxed as fuck, like you just took a load off? Talkin bout literally.."

"Ion know.. Why you ain't ask her? Told you, I had a order. And maybe I'm calm cause I'm always chill. You needa relax too, princess. Let's smoke."

Always tryna smoke ass; not sure how there's ever any left for them to sell. I roll my eyes at her slick ass, leaning back and folding my arms. Jordan finally looks up at me, dark brown eyes trailin down my frame slowly as she openly ogles my fit.

"Spark it then. But I can't stay long. I told you: I got plans tonight."

"Yeah, you said that. But you ain't say what you got planned the night."

"Cause that's nun ya concern-" my mouth is quick to slam shut at the penetrating stare I get before I can finish my thought.

I've seen that look before; would kill for a view of it while Jordan digs me out actually. (I almost whimper out loud as I envision just that. ) My attitude is immediately extinguished as she checks me without a sayin a fuckin word. She holds my gaze for a few seconds before casting her gaze back down, givin the blunt one last light lick. Clearly amused and feelin triumphant with how I'm put in my place, she openly grins. The silence only lasts half a minute be I speak again.

"Gotta date tonight." I say quietly, absolutely hating myself for how weak my voice comes out.

I expect another death stare but only receive a frown and flared nostrils as Jordan continues to look down. And then more silence. So I speak up again.

"You mad?" Tone a bit stronger this time.

That gets me someneye contact.

"The fuck you think?"

"Well, you shouldn't be since you just-"

"Why you so worried if I'm fuckin when you clearly tryna get ran through tonight?"

The question is like a whip across the face. My cheeks heat as shame flushes through me. My mouth open and closes a few times, struggling to respond. Jordan waits for my response with a confident smirk, transitioning before pulling in a big hit.

"I'm not- I.. That's not why-"

I'm interrupted as he leans over to my side of the couch, grabbing my neck and pulling me in. Sexy ass taking advantage of my lips parting in shock at his grip to blow smoke into my mouth. I take it in without a thought, immediately becoming pliant for him as I inhale. It feels so fucking intimate I want more in an instant.

"Who's the date with?" His fine ass asks me softly, hand still lightly grasping my throat. His thumb rubs my skin there lightly as he takes this moment to assess my fit again.

"Andre." I answer on an exhale, mesmerized by the way he licks at his pretty pink bottom lip.

That makes him pop his gaze back to me, his hold a bit firmer as he reconnects with my y/e/c eyes.

"You not fuckin goin, ma. We clear."

"We're clear."

My response is instantaneous and I have no idea who've I've become in this moment. What I am painfully aware is that he's gettin hard, silver basketball shorts doin nothing to hide his yummy fuckin girth.

Clearly my pussy is way more interested in gettin piped by Jordan than Dre; our close proximity has my desperate empty cunt clenching nonstop. I feel like I'll combust if they don't touch me soon.

"What a good fuckin girl you can be. Who knew?"

The praise has the softest of sounds bubbling from my lips as he takes a longer drag, leanin forward to give me another hit. Since this one's bigger, it has my mind a bit hazy as I exhale. I close my eyes, arms droppin to my lap as I enjoy the high and his big palms wrapped around my neck. A shiver of arousal runs through my frame as he moves to whisper at my ear.

"You like when I tell you how good you are for me? Cause you are honey." I moan an affirming 'mm hm' as Jordan licks and kisses at the sensitive spot behind my lobe. "In fact, can fuck my good girl like she need. Is that what you want? Huh? Itchin for Daddy to slide in them guts? I can.. And I will princess. Gonna get that lil pussy creamin round my cock in no time."

I should be shamed in how my head nods rapidly without my permission, mouth opening to say yes but moaning like a whore instead. I'm completely in shambles, loving the way my welcoming high enhances my craving for his cock.

"Lay back then. Show me how pretty that pussy is." He demands, releasing me and gesturing to the carpet with one hand as he takes a hit and sets the blunt down in the ashtray with the other.

Normally I would at least try to be sensual, make a show of it but I'm too tense right now. I don't even bother to undress as I lay on my back as quick as I can manage, swiftly slippin of my heels and throwing them aside. I'm so thankful for the access the deep slits my fit provides. I only need to spread my thighs and pull my salmon colored thong to the side.

"Damn that lil kitty.. So beautiful, look how she flutters at me baby. Think she want Daddy to come play in it."

Those dirty words make me hungry; fuckin pulsating at how he talks to me. I watch lustfully at the way Jordan stands and strips to his snug black boxer briefs. He smiles at me like he knows something I don't. Get goosebumps from how he stares down at me like he wants to wreck me.

I'm salivating when he pulls his long cock out through the opening and starts shows off. He strokes from tip to the base slowly, starin between my legs like hes inna trance. Dark brown eyes intently focused on the way wetness starts to stream from my slit to my juicy brown ass. I'm so jealous of the way he milks drops of precum on every upward stroke, consistent little grunts of pleasure spilling from him; I want that pleasure.

"Come on Daddy, I'm so ready for it." I goad him.

"Mmm. Fuckin lil slut for me know that?" He groans as he gets on his knees between my legs.

"Yeeees, I knooow." I moan out to his fine ass. "Wish you'd do somethin bout it already."

Grippin the base of his dick, he swipes back and forth through the excess moisture leakin from my slit while grabbing the blunt to take another hit.

"Aight, bet. Legs: shoulders."

I stall for just a moment at his simple request before obeying, setting an ankle at each of his shoulders slowly. My tummy clenches at the thought of the deep fuck I'm about to receive.

Jordan grunts lowly, slidin through once more before slappin my clit thrice with his twitching length. My wails are fuckin thunderous, dramatic ass fuck as an intense sensation swirls in my pulsing cunt. Too damn sensitive, soggy little button throbbing ferociously, I miss the descent of his cock to my drenched hole as the sensations flow throughout my overwhelmed frame.

"Damn you so noisy, baby. Ooooh fuck, Daddy gone enjoy this shit."

He moves forward, tip of his dick pushing at my opening as I groan in absolute peril at his thickness. Gripping and yanking at the plush carpet, breath punching out as his mean ass pulls back and thrusts into me sharply. The deep rumbling moan in his chest has a warmth lickin up my spine as my lil puss struggles to strangle the first few inches of his fat cock.

"Waitwaitwait. Pleeease Jo, please! Sobig, too much. Juswait, juswait.." I whine, releasing the carpet to slap and push at his toned chest and abs.

"No." Jordan snaps, snatching my wrists together and bringing the blunt back to his lips with his free hand.

"Do what you need to take this dick cept that. Do that shit again and it's up." He says, thick smoke billowing from his nose as he gazes at me ferally.

His pace to start is fuckin lethal. I'm already cock drunk when he pulls out and stabs in half way repeatedly, hastily dropping the blunt back in the ashtray. My toes curl at the feeling of him fucking me so roughly. Each thrust gives way for the next, helps make me even slicker so he can slide in further. It's happening too quick, he's digging me out faster than I can breathe. My freshly waxed eyebrows pull together as I yank at his grip on my wrists.

"Oooh shit, that feels sooo good. Yeeees, y/n. Can't believe I'm in these guts. Mmmmfuck, don't fight it. You wanted this shit, right?" He asks, serving me powerful precise jabs.

I realize now that my lids are shut tight, eyes rolled back; my mouth open wide as I sob at the intense fucking I'm receiving. For the sake of satisfying him I offer two jerky nods to his question, pussy walls fluctuating sporadically around his prick.

"Not even in all th-the way. Gone let me all the way inside ma?"

I wish I could've stopped the involuntary 'nooooo' that I moan but at this point my brain is becoming mush. It should be illegal for how fast Jordans reduced me to an incoherent mess.

"Ahhhhh y/n, thas not nice. Why you so mean to me all the time?"

Jordan's teasing damn near falls on deaf ears as he takes my right ankle and adds it with the other. Freeing my wrists he places a thumb on my clit and rubs quickly, holding both legs over his left shoulder. My hands quickly find their place back into the carpet, yanking handfuls as he sadistically unravels me with pure amusement on his face.

It's a surprise I don't deafen us both with the shrieks being forced from me. His frenzied pace increases as he spears me over and over, staring intently at the way I take his cock. My orgasm is so dangerously fuckin close to the surface and I hope he's ready.

"Oooh my go- shit! Ain't neva had a pussy so tight, so fuckin weeeet round my shit. Gone let me keep her all to myself? Huh ma?"

"Yesyesyesyes!"

My crazed chants is the best I can do at this moment as he molds the shape of his dick to my walls. Overwhelmed and overstimulated would be an understatement; finna have me gushin his dick in under 5 and that's a fuckin record for me.

"Good giirrrl, pretty. Ah, ah, this- aahhh God.. This my pussy now y/n. You mine now. Got it?"

Fuck me all these questions don't help my scrambled mind. This a fuckin quiz or something? My response is a garbled jumbled mess of high pitched keens.

"I said do you fuckin understand?" He growls out with one brow raised, passionately drilling my pussy faster.

"YesJo, yeeees! 'M sorry, 'm sorry. SosorryDaddy- please!" I keen in hopes of some type of mercy.

But I get none. Tears track done my cheeks like a heavy rain on a stormy night from being subjugated to this all-consuming pleasure.

"Awww, you look so cute when you cry on my dick baby. Thas it, take it just like that for me. Uhhhfuck, gonna give my perfect princess a big ass nut. Know you want it too y/n; gonna make you leak wit it."

Thanks to his persistence he actually slides into the hilt. I wonder if he can see his long fat cock in my tummy. He's so fuckin big that I wouldn't be surprised. A chuckle reaches my ears as I feel the dam about to burst.

"Mmmm.. Naw ma, wish I could see my fuckin dick in ya tummy-"

Christ, I didn't even know I was voicing my fried ass thoughts. Such a fuckin shame it's at that moment I come and unfortunately miss the rest of his sentence. My cunt compresses the dick that's hell bent on unraveling me from the inside out. The pleasure spikes and my back arches as I fight to accept it. I shake like a leaf as he fucks me fiercely, fingers speeding on my beating little button. A clear stream splatters against his lower body as he praises my efforts.

"Did so good for meeeee, ah ah ah fuck! Mmm, hell yeah y/n! Pleeease gimme my reward! Earned it didn't I? Need it so bad, so fuckin bad! Cuuum baby! Good girl, good girl! GOOD. FUCKIN GIRL!"

I give him two more squirts as he punctuates his words with searingly deep stabs before a heavy warmth blooms in my achy abused little puss. Fuck me, the sensation of Jordan filling my cunt like he owns me is addicting; so damn soothing to the battering I just received. Almost feels like a soothing balm applied to a sore limb. And God damn if he ain't so damn loud as he comes to his end, complementing my poor over used lil puss over and over.

He ceases rubbing my clit to grip both of my legs in a bear hug and creampie me till his nut begins to leak out generously from around his dick. Daddy leaves kisses up and down my calves and legs as he roars out the last of his pleasure. Wish I could snap a pic of the way he tosses his head back before dropping it forward, puffing out heavy grunts of my name; his hips giving stuttering circles as he drains the last bit of his cream into me.

Finally, I'm able to gulp in some air as he hips halt their sweet torture, both of us huffing like we just finished a marathon. Jordan sits back on his haunches, palms sliding down to pull my ass into his lap with both hands. He stays just like that, big dick slowly beginning to soften within me. Daddy looks so fuckin handsome: so damn flushed and sweaty, long damp strands of hair fall into his face; pretty eyes low from smoking and all the work he just put in as he gazes at me with a endearing expression. I press a shaky hand to his chest, feeling his heart race just as fast as mine.

"Get what you need, ma?" He asks, smile dazzling the fuck outta me.

"Yes Daddy."

#jordan li x you #jordan li x reader #jordan li x y/n #jordan li #black reader #all readers #black fanfiction #smut #daddy k!nk #creamp!e #dirty talk #submisive and breedable #derek luh #Spotify

[pierrai]

May I request a short fic of a jealous Alastor sucking dick?

Hello! Thank you for your request! Since this is requested as a short (totally short!!) fic, I changed my usual style of bullet points! I hope you will enjoy!

Character: Alastor Catesby Word Count: 2845 Scenario: Jealous Al giving a BJ Warnings: NSFW

Alastor

"Didn't feel like gracing me with your presence today, my lord?"

The snide voice coming from your doorway pulls you out of the world of paperwork you were unwillingly immersed in and back into reality. You hadn't even heard the door open, let alone anyone knocking, but considering who was stood there, it was unlikely he'd even bothered knocking anyway.

"Oh." The small sound that tumbles out your mouth all but gives away that you'd forgotten. You two had made plans today. You told Al you'd drink with him. He raises an unamused brow, and you pause in the middle of your writing to offer him an apologetic frown. "I'm sorry, Al, I forgot. I've been busy with this paperwork all afternoon and still haven't gotten anywhere. I thought for sure we'd arranged this for some other day." You are genuinely sorry, but Al doesn't look as if he buys what you're saying at all as he closes the door behind him and saunters towards your desk cluttered with papers.

"You had a whole week to get all your work out the way for our plans, but of course you decide today is when you should focus on it." He folds his arms and flits his eyes between yourself and the paperwork laid out before you. Seems like he was in an especially bad mood today.

You remember back when you first met him a couple years ago now, he'd scarcely seemed to care about what you did with your time. He'd been the unruly second son of the Catesby family, and you were some lesser lord who occasionally saw him at gatherings. Then when the two of you had the opportunity to talk more, you become one of his, well, simply put... transactional relationships. It was a relationship you both enjoyed when the right circumstances struck and though Al had a less then savoury reputation, you weren't a lord that was overly concerned with morals. You appeared prim and proper and regal, but you'd welcomed Al and his depravity when it benefited you to enjoy that sort of company.

He'd disappeared for a while when his family had kicked him out, though you'd still been in contact through the occasional letter (again, mostly transactional) and only when his title was reinstated and he was given the task of being a liaison between his family and smaller lords, you continued where you left off in your relationship. No strings attached, just now you could have some relief a bit more often than before.

So you can't quite figure out why he's been acting more jealous towards you as of late.

"Look, I apologised, didn't I?" You say. "I got a lot of these documents only recently so, no, I couldn't just work on them some other time. We can go drinking another day, okay?"

He was never ever like this before. He had this sort of relationship with many and never cared if you did the same, but he'd very slowly began to monopolise your time when he could. If you mentioned other people, he'd go eerily quiet for a moment before carrying on as usual. You weren't dense enough to not consider that maybe he'd caught some feelings for you, but if he did, he really didn't do anything to show it. Al was a flirt, but after knowing him for a while, you'd figured out a lot of his actions were for show only and he hardly ever said anything heartfelt.

"Hah." His lips twist up into a sharp and humourless smile. "That's it? You stand me up and have me waiting for an hour and that's all you have to say?"

"Oh, come off it, Al. As if you haven't stood me up a thousand times before. I do it once and suddenly you're up in arms." You huff out a sigh as you pick up your quill from your inkpot again and attempt to sign yet another sheet of paperwork, but before you can finish scrawling the first letter of your name, the paper is suddenly snatched out from under you.

"This is what was so important you completely forgot about me? Some stupid land ownership deed of some nobody farmer?" He tightens his grip on the paper as his eyes scan it line by line, which now has a dark inky streak across it, and thins his eyes at you. "I'm flattered."

"A stupid land ownership deed that I'll have to request a new copy of, thank you very much," comes your dry reply. Some part of you wants to argue back more against Al, but the exhausted part of you that's been on the receiving end of his weird pedantry one too many times releases another heavy sigh, and you put your quill back down so you can massage your temples instead. "Look, today isn't a good day. Can't we just reschedule? I'm too busy to deal with you right now."

Al raises a brow as he slowly lowers the now-crumpled deed back down to the desk. He doesn't seem to care that you're clearly exhausted (not that he ever did) and seems more perturbed that you're blowing him off for what he sees as nonsense.

"How cruel. After I travelled all the way here, you're just going to send me off again?" He sneered, a mirthful smirk still tugging at his lips.

"Al..."

"You know, it's no problem if you want to work. I'll just watch." He begins dragging a chair over from the side of the room, parking it right in front of your desk opposite you, and sprawls himself across it. "You get to do your work, and you're not standing me up anymore." His smile is less than pleasant.

You don't say anything back to him, only setting your eyes on him in an unsteady glare, opening and closing your mouth twice to try to tell him to leave, but you know he won't obey. The only way you'd get him out of your study at this point was by force, and you didn't exactly want that either.

It's better to let him just sit there for now. Perhaps you're just procrastinating the inevitable. You will have to shoo him away eventually but you really, really just want to finish these stupid documents so you can finally focus on something else. You're certain you can tune Al out if you try hard enough.

It's difficult though. Al keeps picking up random items on your desk—quills, ornaments, paper work—and analysing them before tossing them back down where they didn't belong. He was annoying, but manageable, you told yourself.

Manageable until you suddenly feel something touching your leg from underneath your desk, and your hand freezes in the middle of writing a new signature.

"Al, stop it," you chided him quickly, jerking your leg to shake him off, but he simply ignored you and flicked over to the next page of the document he was reading. His foot found it's way to your leg again, caressing it's way up and up until it was almost touching your inner thigh.

You probably should've just backed away again, but for some reason you let him continue. The hairs on the back of your neck were raising with anticipation and the hand holding your quill was clenched hard. When Al's foot reached between your legs and he suddenly pressed the tip of his toes hard against your crotch, you let out a less-than-dignified gasp and attempted to knock his advances away again.

"Alastor." You stressed each syllable of his name through gritted teeth, and he smugly met your eyes with a raise of his brow. This man was exhausting. "I let you sit here, so stop with this. I-I don't have time for it—I have to finish all of this, and then worry about this stupid dinner party and—"

"Dinner party?" Al echoed, planting both his feet back on the ground as he leant forward in his chair and tossed the document aside. "Ahh, I see. You stood me up because you made other plans instead. You thought if you just didn't show up at all, you wouldn't have to deal with me either. You could go to your insignificant little dinner party free of worry."

"No, just—" you throw down your quill again, frustration building even more, "—why do you always have to twist things into the worst possible interpretation. I forgot because I had—have—a lot of work! I didn't do it on purpose."

Al scoffs. He doesn't refute what you've said, but you can tell it hasn't made him feel much better either. When Al was upset, that was that. Explanation be damned, he's going to stay upset.

He stands up suddenly, and when he rounds the corner of the desk and comes to stand right in front of you, your heart does a nervous little jump in your chest. Your mouth opens to say his name in what might be fear, but it's swallowed up when he suddenly drops down to his knees and tugs the chair you're sat on closer to him.

"What are you—" You're cut off for the umpteenth time that day when his hands tug at the buttons of your pants and then quickly dive into your undergarments to fish out your half-hard cock. The sensation of Al's cold fingers against your own heated skin only sends more blood rushing down to your crotch rather than your brain, which can't decide whether it's okay with what's happening or not.

"You can tell whatever nobody invited you to that dinner party you already have plans," Al says snidely, glaring up at you as he works his hands roughly up and down your shaft to make it harder. You want to refute him and push him back, but he suddenly dives his head down between your legs and closes his mouth around the whole length of your cock.

"Wait, Al—"

The wet heat of his tongue forces a gasped moan out of your throat, and you push your hands against Al's head weakly. He holds it firmly in place, unphased, eyes focused and determined as he hollows his cheeks around your member, furrowing his brow in what's likely satisfaction rather than discomfort when it grows to it's full hardened length. You can't help it. Even if you rationally don't want this, your body has decided that you do. Al's mouth has always felt good.

One of his hands grips at your thigh, while the other strokes its way up your leg. The lewd slurping sounds coming from his mouth are only clouding your mind with more lustful thoughts, as is the feeling of Al's tongue running along the side of your shaft roughly. You really should tell him to stop, but the words crumble as soon as you try to speak them.

He begins bobbing his head eagerly, the hand that was caressing your leg moving up to hold the base of your shaft as he repeatedly forces it as deep down his throat as it'll go. You have to admit, he is skilled at this. Even if his method is possessive and rough, it's overwhelming how good it feels. You have to move one of your hands from his head to clap it over your mouth. With your head tilted back, you can barely swallow down all the moans.

This was the first time Al was using sex to get your attention. You'd started noticing more and more that he would get jealous over silly things, and though he'd easily brushed it off at first, he soon progressed to flirting as a way of drawing your attention back to him. You didn't know why he even got jealous in the first place when your relationship was always something the two of you agreed was casual and transactional. Now here he was using sexual acts as a way of keeping you in your place. If these acts of jealousy became commonplace... Ahh, you didn't care to dislike the idea right now. You'd probably welcome it. It felt so good after all.

Your cock pops out of his mouth with a terribly lewd and wet sound, but Al is quick to resume the attention it was getting by licking up and down the side while his hand roughly jerks you off, pumping up and down tightly. He brings his fingers to the very end of your penis, lightly pinching just under your glans so clear fluid begins leaking out your tip. That makes Al smirk with clear satisfaction. With your length wet with both your own precum and Al's saliva, you gaze down at him, flushed and breathless, and wonder if he's going to take this a step further by riding you at your desk. You'd probably let him at this point, too horny to say no.

He closes his mouth back around you again instead, making more lewd slurping noises as he begins his steady pace, up and down, up and down. It's not long before you're letting out small moans and gasps, biting down on your index and middle finger so you won't attract the attention of any servants passing by. The other hand you've began running through the strands of Alastor's hair tightens subconsciously, and Al's eyes thin in warning before he presses his teeth against the skin of your cock.

"Ah—!" Another less than-dignified gasp. Even more so now considering it was half a moan as well. You let go of Al's head and glare down at him while he meets your eyes with a raise of his eyebrows and a mischievously smug look in his eyes.

His tongue licks where he'd bitten teasingly from inside his mouth, and your body tenses as pleasure seeps back in to cover the slight amount of pain he'd caused. Even though it had hurt, both you and Al knew you didn't mind the occasional amount of pain in the sessions between the two of you.

The assault on your cock continues in earnest and as you get closer to your climax with each passing second, your hips begin rising from your chair to buck your length deeper into Alastor's mouth. The pleasant sounds of him adjusting to your length and letting out gurgled moans when you hit the back of his throat only make you more eager, but no more eager than Al who snakes his arms under and around your hips to suck you in deeper.

"Gonna—cum—" You can barely get the words out. Not like Al ever cares, but you've always been nice enough to warn him in case he ever wants to pull out. He doesn't seem to care this time too. His arms hug your waist tighter as you arch your back so much you're barely sitting at your chair anymore. Nails dig into the skin showing from where your pants have been further tugged down but you don't care about any pain they bring. Your own hand comes to rest on Al's head again, gripping the strands of his hair while the other covers you mouth before you can let out a loud, climactic moan.

The hot coil in your stomach comes completely undone and your body twitches as you feel your release hit you all at once. Hot, white cum spurts out your tip and down into Alastor's throat. He doesn't even pull back, gulping down each drop stubbornly and keeping his mouth firmly in place even as you ride out your orgasm with a couple thrusts of your hips, wanting to prolong the bliss for as long as you can. It feels amazing. So amazing that you've forgotten you and Al had been arguing mere minutes ago, and so amazing you tell yourself you're glad you didn't give him the boot sooner. God, you could do this forever.

You sink back down in your chair and let your arms fall back to your sides, letting out a few more shuddering, breathy moans and letting your head dip forward after throwing it back in sheer ecstasy. Mind fuzzy, you just about manage to open your eyes to watch Al slip your dwindling cock out of his mouth, a line of cum and saliva breaking away between them when he licks his lips and gulps down whatever's left in his mouth. The sight is nice. It's easy to see why Al managed to sleep around with so many.

Finally his eyes meet yours again and though your mind is a mess of exhaustion and post-sex clarity, you offer the smallest of smirks.

"While I appreciate your service, I don't think you've prolonged it enough for me to miss my dinner party arrangements." You don't know if you're teasing him on purpose or stating a fact. Al smirks haughtily, and his hands move back from your hips to in between your legs so his hands can tease your sensitive cock and bring life back into it again. Excitement rises in your chest whether you want it to or not.

"Good thing I'm not finished then."

[rescue-ram]

Finished my rewatch of S1

This has been my first experience binge watching MASH- I don't think I've ever watched more than 4 episodes in a row before, and usually not in order. So it was really interesting actually watching the show this way...

Hawkeye- his characterization stood out to me. While he's definitely not doing a Donald Sutherland impression, his portrayal is closer to movie than late series. Very laconic. In "Bananas, Crackers, and Nuts" there's a line where Frank calls him "a rock" which retrospectively feels like a joke, but in S1 isn't- he's clearly very stable and pretty unflappable.

I actually was tallying the amount of times Trapper and Hawkeye explicitly hook up with nurses and the crimes they commit lol and was surprised by how low the number is for both lol. Between the two of them they hooked up with women in 7 episodes, though they're referenced as doing it more often and they flirt/get shot down/refuse sex a little more often, bringing total up to 12. Only two episodes really featured pranks, which was also surprising

I know Major Fred C. Dobbs is in the running for worst MASH episode but I liked it lol. It was funny and had some quality TrapHawk moments, and the Hawnk kiss at the end made me laugh even as I added it to the rap sheet

Just tallying up the days that pass on screen gets us to just over 3 months, giving me little a hope for my horrible timeline ldkkdjf

I really liked the recurring characters- they didn't have a lot of depth per se but they made things feel fleshed out. It was nice having recurring nurses I could recognize and I will miss my boy Ugly John. God that we lived in the alternate universe where the writers had figured out what to do with Oliver...

Also was thinking about how a lot of the racist moments kinda come from the writers trying to engage in a neutral-to-well-meaning way but alas they were all white guys raised in a white supremacist culture and cannot escape that influence so it comes out horrifically dated, but I think they do try more in the early seasons

I had forgotten what a minor character Mulcahy is in S1. He gets a couple little moments, but I think Margie and Dish have more scenes lol...

Trapper my baby Trapper, he does not necessarily have a lot to do besides be lovable but he does it well. Him providing pediatric care for local kids is deffo going in my note document for Shit Trapper Is Doing lol...

Henry and Radar's relationship 🥹 I really liked both characters, scamp!Radar is so good, and Henry is so funny with these little moments of genuine wisdom and compassion... Good shit

I really liked both Margaret and Frank, not a lot to say beyond that, but they're just so good. Just enough nuance to make 'em pop.

Gaaaaah many more thoughts than I can type, but in conclusion I Love MASH

#mash

[hexfloog]

2021 - 2022 - 2023 - 2024

Can you believe there's barely 10 days left to the year?? Because I can't! Time to lay my feelings bare again!!!

So I definitely slowed down quite a bit compared to 2022, but I still made enough to fill the template and, in spite of everything else, lots of life development things happened these last 365 days that I think makes 2023 one of my best years in recent memory :)

I have less to say about the art this time. The drop in quantity checks out when I stop to reflect on just how much time I spent on each one. I definitely don't have as many sketchy works to show off this time either (probably in no small part due to the fact that I've also slowed down on Detco) - and that's probably owed to having spent most of my art effort this year drawing for other people, be it commissions or fan projects, and I already know that I'm more inclined to take risks when I have just myself to please. It's not a bad thing, that's just how it is.

I suppose my one observation of this year's body of work is that the vast majority of it is quite ambitious. Real pushing-my-comfort-zone stuff, but it's more of a polished brand of risk rather than the kind you get sketching ideas on the spot. Some examples:

February - both a collab and a thing that became a fan cel intended as an autograph piece at a con

April - simultaneously a gift and a very personal piece

June - silly comic (anything humorous is automatically out of my comfort zone)

August - community project + comic page redraw that really tested my ability to find a new style to play with

September - made to become tangible merch (it did)

October - redraw of my very first digital piece

November* - character design from text description only and formal reference sheet commission (my first ever)

December* - digital watercolor + fake children's paperback cover

*active WIP, not yet complete

It's not that much (really, it's average output for me) but I will take my wins where I can get them, especially since this is pretty much the scope of my art projects this year. Didn't really have much time or energy to write, or make more models, or scan more cards, because... ya girl was too busy getting a promotion/raise, moving out, enjoying the best con experience of her life (so far), volunteering, meeting lots of new people, dating again, having general fun, eating good food, trying new things, finishing a monthly art challenge for once, playing creative romhacks, waking up to new career opportunities, etc. etc. etc! It feels like so much happened this year!!

I tend to be harsh on myself and often feel like my life is not going anywhere, but this year really made me feel like I'm finally gaining some momentum again. And like... I don't expect (or want) to live life in the fast lane or anything, but stagnating isn't good, either, and with every passing year I have to ask myself with a little more sincerity what my future looks like.

So all that said, thanks very much for sticking around and suffering me another year <333 Who knows what 2024 will bring!! But for the first time in a while, I think I am looking to it with more than just a resigned "meh" and I hope the same for anyone reading this, too.

#personal #summary of art #summary of art 2023 #2023 summary of art #queue

[shiawasekai]

For Nela: 9, 23, 25?

Thank you so much for these, Dujour! They were fun!

Answers to this ask meme

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

Now I've mentioned before I don't do playlists and I only check lyrics for a very select few things...

Which means my pool of options is very shallow and the lyrics that come to mind are from something VERY obscure. This is my personal translation of the lyrics (done at the moment, too). For the title and further details, please DM me if you want. I would very much like to not summon that particular fandom:

"You humans may not realize it, but you avoid lighting up what's dark

And, did you know? Darkness, left unchecked, just grows deeper, murkier

And you, you have the face of someone living like they have no darkness within

It's so nice and comforting, to be within someone like you..."

Yeah... Yeah.

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

Now that's a hard question.

For the hardest to process, I lean towards insecurity.

So many of her problems boil down to poorly managing her insecurities. Societal pressure gave her such a complex she spent years on a self-destructive campaign of teenage rebellion and then, she struggles during the game in no small part because she was too insecure and with no actual support system. There is a reason I argue she would have an easier time as a companion, having someone (the KC) to fully rely on.

There are other emotions at play in both instances, but I feel insecurity is the one that has most consistently given her trouble.

As for the hardest to express... That's guilt. No contest.

During the late game and post-game, one of the main reasons she doesn't seek out help is because she feels guilty about her own thoughts and fears voicing them would only hurt those around her. For a long time, she's blind to the fact she is actually hurting them even more this way.

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

That one is both hard and easy. There is a lot I love about her, but... her design has a very, very special place in my heart.

Before I sat down to draw her, I was feeling quite unmotivated with my art. I didn't feel ready to design my own characters from scratch and, being a very OC-driven artist, that drastically reduced the pool of options. Not being able to branch out made it hard to find said motivation.

Mind you, designing Nela was h a r d and ironing out that first draft of her design took me way longer than I care to admit. So many failed attempts... What started as some silly low stakes doodles to solidify a bit more the image in my mind (to never be shared) turned into a whole endeavor.

But it opened a door for me: I could, in fact, do character design!! I didn't need to limit myself! It was hard, but possible! It didn't turn out terrible at least!

... And I've been ever since in the biggest drawing spree since I started with drawing (admittedly that's not very long lmao). I've worked on the designs of multiple characters already, and I want to give more of my children an actual face. I'm so thankful for what she gave me (the creative freedom, the motivation) and proud of the work I put into it.

It may be also why I've gone above and beyond to develop said design further. Insert here reference sheet shenanigans.

This whole situation is made funnier because I remember stressing out over how much time I was dedicating to it because that was time I wasn't practicing things like, you know, posing, anatomy, color/shading/render...

#ask meme #what am I doing replying at this hour? I would love to know that actually #Thank you again!! #oc: nela damasio #i had a hard time with that second one but I tried my best #I'm sorry for the weird as hell lyrics lmao

[writersminagerie]

I know you

I walked with you once upon a dream.

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Characters: Gortash, Vesper (durge), Karlach

Ships; Durgetash

Synopsis: Vesper and Enver are reunited. But it doesn't go as well as Vesper Hoped

__

Gortash. Gortash...

The name made Vesper's heart ache and they didn't know why. Had they known the man? Had he betrayed them like he did with Karlach? Had he been good to them? A friend? Given their discovery, or rediscovery, of their father's identity a friend like Gortash would make sense. But all the speculation and no solid answers was infuriating. They desperately wanted to have some part of their life to cling to. They'd be able to ask the Lord themselves when they finally reached Wyrm's Rock.

The fortress's main hall was decorated lavishly, and the benches were full of people. The Steelwatch were stomping around the fringes of the room. It would be a disaster to try and take the Lord on in the hall.. Vesper and their party walked up the center aisle, they could feel Karlach getting tenser that growl leaving her lips that meant trouble.

"Not now," Vesper whispered to her. "It's too dangerous in here with all these people. We don't want collateral."

Karlach shot them a glare but nodded forcing herself to relax. Vesper turns their attention forward, toward Gortash and Wyll's father. When the Lord finally caught Vespers eyes the Bhaalspawn watches as several emotions played across the man's face. Recognition, excitement, relief, then calm. He walks towards the group, eyes focused on Vesper. Like they were the only one who was there.

"And here comes my old friend to pay their respects," Gortash said with a smile.

"My respects?!" Karlach spat "you're lucky I agreed to not put my boot up your -"

"My favorite assassin returns to my side,"Gortash continued, ignoring Karlach completely. His eyes still on the sorcerer, anticipating their response.

"What... Hang on. You KNOW each other?" Karlach sounded angry looking between Vesper and Gortash. Vesper was staring at the Lord, searching his face, begging their scrambled brain to pull anything from their memory.

"We have important matters to discuss, my reunion with Karlach can wait."

"You should be talking to her not to me," Vesper said and there was a flicker in Gortash's expression. Like a twinge of pain.

"No offense to my old friend, but it's you I've been dying to see. After all you did leave us some time ago that put an uncomfortable hole in our plan. But.. Orin did mention your memories were quite lost," the lord scowled a moment before he gesture for Vesper to follow him. "Come, we need to have a talk, and it requires some privacy."

Despite karlach's loud protests Vesper follows Gortash gesturing for the others to wait in the hall. They need to know who they were, no matter how ugly it was. And they had a feeling that Gortash wouldn't hurt them.

-

The lord's private quarters smelled familiar. The Bhaalspawn stops in the middle of the room and breaths the scent in. Safe. Calming. Vesper stood still, their eyes close, hoping something, anything, came back to them. They remember the scent in the room, sleeping in silk sheets, and gentle fingers in their hair. A quiet voice calling them love, making them feel alive. Happy. Not just a puppet for their fathers machinations.

"Enver," They said after a moment, recalling the lords first name. When they opened their eyes Gortash is standing in front of them, a respectful distance away, with a soft, sad expression.

"I thought.. Gods, your sister told me you were dead," Gortash said his hand half reaching out, as if wanting to touch them but unsure if he should. "I thought I would never see you again. Do you.. do you truly not remember me?" The pain in gortash's voice made them sick with guilt. But vesper couldn't remember Gortash, not in any sort of solid detail. But their heart did ache, and ever since they woke up in the Nautiloid they've felt a pull. A desire, no, a need to get back to someone. Someone important.

"Something happened to me, I don't know what, my memory is fuzzy but," Vesper chances reaching out, their fingers ghosting against Gortash's cheek, "from the moment I awoke with a clear head I knew I was missing something, someone, very important." Gortash's lets out a shaking breath and pushes his face into Vespers palm like it's the only contact he's had in a lifetime.

"I can't believe you're alive, that you're here," Gortash rests his hand on theirs. There was a torrent of emotions in the Lords eyes but he seems hesitant on Acting on any of them given the current circumstances. "But now that you've returned we can continue with our plan." Wait, their plan?

"What do you mean?"

"Right, apologies. I was getting ahead of myself. It was our plan for ruling Faerûn together. You and I came up with using the crown of Karsus on the Elder brain to bend it to our control," Gortash said with such excitement and pride. When Vesper didn't respond, and had an apprehensive expression the smile fades from gortash's face and he pulls away slowly. Even though The lord was a stranger to Vesper at the moment they panicked as he backed away.

"You.. don't seem pleased at that revelation," Gortash's voice became even, he reigned in his emotions.

"I don't remember the planning or the wanting," they say quickly, taking a step towards Gortash, "I do know now, being given a second chance, I don't want to be a puppet for my father. And he was the one to orchestrated my deciding to try and rule Faerûn." The more Vesper spoke the more hurt and withdrawn Gortash became.

"Your father.. he was the reason you helped me.." Gortash spoke quietly, more to himself than to the Bhaalspawn. He grips his arm, and Vesper remembers bloody bandages, and careful stitches. A boy with shaggy black hair and sad eyes looking at them with fear, then relief.

"No! I mean, yes? At the beginning probably," they were reaching out, but every step they took towards Gortash the lord took one step away from them.

"It makes sense that Bhaal would tell you to take care of the pathetic cobbler boy," Gortash sounded angry, and glared at the floor. "Bane and Myrkul drew straws to see who'd be stuck with me, after you softened me up."

"Enver, it wasn't like that!" They didn't actually know for sure. They could only rely on a gut feeling. "I probably was told to keep you alive but I liked you! I.." The look Gortash shot them made their stomach drop. It was anger and betrayal. And it scared Vesper to death to think someone that was so important, so rooted in his past, was about to turn on him.

"Enver-"

"You've said quite enough. I believe we should conclude our discussion for now," Gortash turns away and Vesper grabs his hand. Despite how rigid Gortash becomes he doesn't pull away.

"Please, wait! You were the one thing I knew when I had lost everything else," Vesper squeezes the lord's hand, "you were just a feeling. But it was what kept me motivated to keep searching for who I was. To not just give up. But with my lost memory I had a second chance, I realized I didn't have to be what my father wanted. I didn't have to want what he wanted. I could be my own person and not just be his puppet... Enver we can be more than what our masters want us to be.

"Bhaal, Myrkul, and Bane won't play nice in the end. This empire they want us to build? it has to be a trap... please. We can both destroy the brain and walk away. Build a life we really want together."

Gortash looks back at them with an incredulous expression. "You'd walk away from all that power and defy your father's wishes? The wishes of a god? And... what? Start a happy little life with the person you were tasked with 'keeping alive'?"

"Yes!"

The lord sucks in a breath, his brow furrowed. It was a pretty unbelievable statement.

"I was already defying my father for you Enver," they said softly, "I can't remember the details. But I know.. he wanted me to kill you. To make you suffer and bleed in his name. But I couldn't, not you." Gortash's body was relaxing, but he was still visibly apprehensive. Bane had taken hold of the lordling's soul, he couldn't just walk away from it. Right?

"Your sister has decided to replace one of your party," Gortash finally pulls his hand away. "They intend to kill you and your new found companions."

"Enver.."

"Please. You have more important things to worry about. Find the imposter and stop Orin from killing them and any other members of your group. I know you'd be heartbroken if any of them were to die."

The lord turns away from vesper. "I must return to the great hall, and so should you."

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #durgetash #dark urge x gortash #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate fanfiction