#captain Ravengard

[serpenlupus]

1 and 2 - Regency AU, Altavir in his different personas interacting with Captain Ravengard

3 - Altavir is in charge of the group’s budget and Scratch is very happy to help

I got gifted with some test pages for new watercolor paper so I decided to use them for some easy and quick ideas I had (mostly from the regency AU that it’s starting to turn in its own story 😂)

Sadly I didn’t enjoy working with these papers very much, they have the same problem as cellulose papers and the third one absorbed water so quickly I couldn’t blend the washes

At least I can say they’re great for adding colored pencil textures

[blckbrrybasket]

can you do odd!reader responding to her partner w/ a breeding kink?

absolutely! im so so sorry for taking the longest amount of time to respond to this anon </3

odd!reader not picking up stuff is so real to me

Fem, Masc, and Gn reader featured

[fem/afab]

God you were so pretty, was all he could think. Even from the back you were utterly beautiful. His cock continued thrusting into your slick walls. He’d slide his dick out till it was just his tip notched inside your entrance before pounding back in. It was a hypnotizing rhythm that had you drooling into the pillow beneath you.

The other pillow held your hips up, keeping you presented nicely for him. His hand crept around your hip to draw shapes on your clit. Seeing the way your folds stretched around him made his dick twitch inside your cunt. “Fuuuck. Gonna fill you with up yeah? Have you carry my babies? D’be such a good mom.” He choked out without a second thought.

He, of course, was the only one not giving it a second thought. You always gave it a second thought though. Craning your neck, you shot an almost worried look over your shoulder. “I’m on birth control…and we’re not ready to be parents.”

If he hadn’t been balls deep in you he might have laughed. His hips snapped before slowing down in shock. “No it’s- it’s just dirty talk, babe. A saying?” You blinked as the cogs in your brain turned, a smile brightening your features once you realized. “Oh! Okay.”

Seeing you move on so swiftly had him shaking his head and beginning to thrust into you again. His teeth sunk into his lower lip as he focused on how you clenched around his dick, fucking through his confusion. It wouldn’t be the first nor last time it happened.

[masc/amab]

God you were so handsome, was all he could think. Even from the back you truly were attractive. His cock continued thrusting into your walls. He’d slide his dick out till it was just his tip notched inside your entrance before pounding back in. It was a hypnotizing rhythm that had you drooling into the pillow beneath you.

The other pillow held your hips up, keeping you presented nicely for him. His hand thumb rested at the top of your ass, watching the lube drooling out over his cock. Seeing the way you stretched around him made his dick twitch inside your ass. “Fuuuck. Gonna fill you with up yeah? Have you carry my babies? D’be such a good dad.” He choked out without a second thought.

He, of course, was the only one not giving it a second thought. You always gave it a second thought though. Craning your neck, you shot an almost worried look over your shoulder. “That’s not possible….and we’re not ready to be parents.”

If he hadn’t been balls deep in you he might have laughed. His hips snapped before slowing down in shock. “No it’s- it’s just dirty talk, babe. A saying?” You blinked as the cogs in your brain turned, a smile brightening your features once you realized. “Oh! Okay.”

Seeing you move on so swiftly had him shaking his head and beginning to thrust into you again. His teeth sunk into his lower lip as he focused on how you clenched around his dick, fucking through his confusion. It wouldn’t be the first nor last time it happened.

[gender neutral]

God you were so hot, was all he could think. Even from the back you were captivating. His cock continued thrusting into your slick walls. He’d slide his dick out till it was just his tip notched inside your entrance before pounding back in. It was a hypnotizing rhythm that had you drooling into the pillow beneath you.

The other pillow held your hips up, keeping you presented nicely for him. Seeing the way you stretched around him made his dick twitch inside you. “Fuuuck. Gonna fill you with up yeah? Have you carry my babies? D’be such a good parent.” He choked out without a second thought.

He, of course, was the only one not giving it a second thought. You always gave it a second thought though. Craning your neck, you shot an almost worried look over your shoulder. “We’re not ready to be parents.”

If he hadn’t been balls deep in you he might have laughed. His hips snapped before slowing down in shock. “No it’s- it’s just dirty talk, babe. A saying?” You blinked as the cogs in your brain turned, a smile brightening your features once you realized. “Oh! Okay.”

Seeing you move on so swiftly had him shaking his head and beginning to thrust into you again. His teeth sunk into his lower lip as he focused on how you clenched around his dick, fucking through his confusion. It wouldn’t be the first nor last time it happened.

[thinkingofausername]

istg i'll never understand the whole "it's just fiction" mindset. thinking that you can't be racist/fatphobic/ableist towards a character because they're fictional is ridiculous. the way people interact with fiction says a lot about them and i'll always stand by this. "they're fictional, you can't offend them" yeah but you sure can expose your shitty attitude towards real people who are represented by those characters. fiction has always reflected reality and people's stand on it means more than they're willing to accept

[creaturefeaturecommando]

I’m going into Dragon Age Veilguard with the intent to romance Davrin since everyone else is hellbent on romancing Lucanis and Emmerich so when I stream it you can watch in real time and see if BioWare has finally gotten their shit together and made a black character who isn’t a racial stereotype (Jacob), was in a heavily bugged game that was unplayable when it was released (Liam) , dead (Anderson), or had all of his character content cut to make more room for a white character (wasn’t BioWare, it was Larian but with the way people are in fandom in general I wouldn’t put it past Bioware to cater to their whiter fanbase if a white character got all the hype)

[bunny-jpeg]

hey! are you a fan fic writer? here's your chance to self promo your works! either you can inbox or direct message me or simply link to your work in the comments of this post!

i'm looking to do fic recommendations for fall 2024, and i'd love to recommend some work with friends and followers of the blog! so please self promo or promo the work of friends and loved ones.

i am mostly reading formula one (duh), call of duty (double duh), haikyuu, jujustu kaisen and bg3! thank you in advance and i can't wait to read it! <3

[hyenaspots]

Monthly Quota

[Gaz x Male Reader]

After a very long time (one year) working on this fic, with the help of two very good friends, I've finally got this out! I'm so happy to be able to finish it and throw it into the wind. God knows I've worked hard on it and it has given me some back pain.

Fem & Minors DNI

¡¡¡ Content Warning !!!

Piss, afab genitalia and language, could be considered dubcon, but it's very enthusiastic from all sides; thigh fucking, and a very mean and socially stunted Ghost

Thank you to @embry-garrick-ravengard and @thegnomelord for their help and ideas! Without them I would've probably scrapped the fic.

Word count: 5.7k

The effects of Gaz’s monthly testosterone shots were stronger than he’d ever heard anyone else complain about. By the first day, he was usually sweating. His skin was hypersensitive, every small drop crawling down his back as he did his laps unbearable. Each hot flash felt like a heatwave. The second day would bring hunger spikes. An indescribable ache deep in his very core that could be decently sated with some cafeteria food, or in worst case scenario, a meal from whatever local food chain he could guilt the captain into taking him to.

The third day is when his rationality leaves his body.

It’s like every other side effect travels down his body and gathers into the base of his dick, leaving his clit aching. The hypersensitivity spreads across his t-dick, keeping it hard and swollen enough to stick lewdly out of his hood. The head is dark from arousal. He’s wet too, soaking with it. His inner thighs and its wiry hairs are damp, as are the curls covering his fat lips. It drips down his ass as he lays facing the ceiling, groaning at the way that not even slotting his dick between his index and middle fingers can’t seem to satisfy the deep ache of his cock. He can see the way it throbs, how it sluggishly bobs up and down despite it barely reaching an inch and a half in size. The ache is the worst part of it all. A deep, insatiable ache that jerking off and even fingering couldn’t satisfy. He’d considered a dildo, but the risk of getting caught with it stored somewhere was too embarrassing. And he wasn’t big enough for a fleshlight, so no point in wasting money on one.

It's the desperation that drives him insane, the ache of his wrist locking up and cramping that drives him to pull his trousers back on without any underwear to prevent an unfortunate stain in the strangely delicate material. It’s what drives him to put his boots back on, haphazardly tying the laces and knowing he’ll be stepping on them soon enough.

He's feeling ballsy, treading through the deserted hallways of the base. Usually there’d be more noise than this. Not a crazy amount but everyone knew that when higher-ups were cozy at home and Staff Sergeants were holed up in their private rooms, the rest of the base would have their own little secrets behind closed doors. Gambling was common, sometimes done in broad daylight if bets were harmless enough. Barrack bunnies, too, were harmless enough. The occasional Warrant Officer or Lieutenant could even be tempted by such temptations before the eyes of lower officers and rookies. But today, the base was dark and silent. You could hear a pin drop from two hallways over. He was perhaps feeling self-destructive, maybe the testosterone fuelled sex drive made him so. Nobody dared leave their assigned barracks when higher-ranked officers were pulled from the comfort of their homes to be caged within prison-like beige walls.

It's stupidity, Gaz knows. He’s left his rational thinking back in his private room, taking no heed of the warning signs his brain was sending him of the silence suffocating the halls. He can see the once-abandoned rooms already, with their matching red, faded door frames standing out from their beige neighbours. Distantly, he remembers seeing people leave on the rare occasions he’d go past. And he remembers catching Soap leaving once, mohawk messy and face glowing a soft pink. The wink he’d sent his way had had Gaz furrowing his brow in distaste. On each of the doors themselves, a moon and sun are carved respectively. Innocent enough, compared to what they actually stood for. He wraps his hand around the broken handle and pushes. The brass nearly comes off in his hand, from the forcefulness of his grasp and the heavy-handed push he gives it to soften the rusty hinges.

The carpeted floor is worn down. Pale in a way that only constant use and then sudden abandonment can make look. There’s debris scattered around the room, in the space where furniture and broken pieces of training equipment don’t cover. Gaz can see, with the help of the moonlight refracted through the broken smoke-stained window, patches in the floor where the larger items in the room have scuffed and ripped out carpet. Most of the room is hidden from sight by these larger structures. He’s forced to map his way across, staking out the small space carefully just to avoid causing a ruckus. As he walks past, there’s obvious reasons why this space hasn’t been used for so long. A low-hanging beam nearly knocks his head off; a particularly scruffy piece of carpet nearly sends him stumbling when it catches on boot’s toe. He’s careful though, lest he scare off whatever barrack bunny or brave soldier is manning the hole tonight. If there is one. If.

It would feel silly, stupid even, if he’d been any less horny than he’d been maybe 10 minutes ago. But even now, after he’s had plenty of time to feel the iciness of the halls, his dick remains hard just beneath his trousers. He can feel the damp fabric now, as he stands in front of the not quite circular hole carved into the wall. At least it’s been sanded down, he thinks. Or not quite thinks, just a remark made to himself by some part of his brain that is trying to keep some resemblance of normalcy despite the absolutely stupid observation. His hands shake but he's not entirely sure if it’s from the reasonable anxiety of being caught, or the depraved way that he wishes he would be caught mid-act. He knocks on the wall. It’s shaky, like a stutter caught halfway through a sentence. He presses his forehead against the wall, heated skin soothed slightly by the cool surface. He bites down on his lower lip, eyes shut tight as his snaggletooth digs into the soft plush flesh. Anyone brave enough to come down to the other room, to service another person, is less brave and more suicidal. The risk is so high, the logic so far out the window. And he knows he’s just as reckless, waiting desperately for a hand to welcome him that shouldn’t be there. He whimpers when a minute passes and it seems there’s nobody there.

A hand reaches out before he can move away. It cups his front gently, the skin hidden by a dark brown glove. The gasp that leaves his lips is hoarse, he felt a drop of moisture clinging on his eyelashes. His hands shake as he fumbles with his trousers’ buttons, rash and hurried in the way he flings them open to let the fabric pool at his feet, heedless of the now broken zipper and ripped off button. There isn’t a single second of hesitation, not a single moment of wondering whether or not the person on the other side would be willing to serve him. He doesn’t think, just presses the sharp jut of his hip bones flush against the wall, letting his mound and dick disappear into the hole. His arms rest tensely by either side of his head, shoulder width apart and flexed with the effort to not whimper out loud as the hand comes back up to trace the curve of Gaz’s mound. The hand moves gently through the thick bush of hair, moving further down at a taunting pace to dig gently and tease the hood of his cock, making Gaz rumble out a groan straight from his wildly beating heart. It’s cut off by a whine when the hand retreats. There’s a muffled shushing sound on the other side. And it’s true, he should be quieter. Especially tonight that any little sound can land either of them in hellish-levels of reprobation. But the touch feels so good, and Gaz is so damn desperate that when he feels a warm pair of lips wrap carefully around the head of his t-dick, he has to slap a hand over his mouth. Even so, the little cry he lets out is loud, despite being muffled by his own hand. He feels a soft stubble brush against the hypersensitive skin of his mound, ghosting over a tiny part of his inner thighs.

The suction of your mouth is heavenly around the head. A warm, tight heat wrapping around the sensitive organ and drawing more blood into its surface. It’s borderline painful when you suck more and more of his dick into your mouth, dropping your mouth open and letting your tongue loll out so Gaz rubs the sensitive head against the rough surface of your tongue. Gaz’s thighs ache. The soft muscles of his thighs tense and relax to the beat of his heartbeat, to each throb of his t-dick. The muscles jiggle as he adjusts his stance, spreading his legs to give you more purchase. You take it in stride, lapping at his wet cunt with eager skill. You lick all the way from his perineum to the base of his dick, running your tongue through the soft curls framing the swollen inner folds dripping with slick and precum. And as you reach his dick again, you let your upper teeth graze the sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing in the accompanying muffled yell.

The pleasure is dizzying. It’s like he can’t get enough air into his lungs, chest rapidly expanding and contracting as he pants and moans as quietly as he can. He’s got his hand against his mouth, palm fully covering it to muffle his sounds to the best of his ability. His face is turned to the side with his cheek pressed against the cold wall.

It’s like you can’t get enough. He can feel the way you get more and more desperate, bringing your hand back up again just to tentatively sink a finger in his wet cunt. Gaz cries out, throwing his head back. His hand slaps against the wall, stabilising him as his knees buckle under him. A small strand of drool slips from the corner of his lips as he pants and whines, his hips slapping against the wall with small thrusts. Your mouth joins your finger, wrapping around his dick again and suckling on it. A constant, gentle suction that brings tears to his eyes. The wet sounds of your single finger slowly rocking in and out, crooking inside him and rubbing against his silky walls, while your tongue traces the slight edge of his head drive him insane. Your nose is pressed flush against his mound, and he can feel how heavily you’re breathing. You’re essentially sniffing him with every inhale, although you don’t seem to really mind his heavy, musky scent. He tastes so good, each taste bud sending sharp signals to your brain, encouraging you to taste more and more of him.

You’re both so lost in the pleasure, that the creak of the door opening is completely lost on you both. And so are the footsteps that follow, and then the sound of the door clicking shut. The footsteps are light as paper, so in a way, neither of you can really be blamed for missing it. The click of the door, though, is a clear warning, the owner of the hand wrapped around the knob hidden expertly behind the shadows of the room’s furniture. He makes no move to muffle the sound of it, the sound ringing throughout the room. But even so, neither of you hear it over the sighs of Gaz’s pleasure.

It isn’t until a pale hand slaps down over Gaz’s mouth that the poor man realises that maybe it hadn’t been as quiet as he thought.

He tries pulling away at first, arms scrambling to slap and push at the body behind him. It’s cut short by a thick, scarred arm wrapping around his arms and midsection; rendering them useless by his sides without much effort. His hips buck back as his body pushes against the body behind him, until-

“Settle down, Sergeant,” the voice is rough, louder than a whisper from the sheer inability to go any quieter, “thought I heard your boots down my hall.”

At the sound of scrambling on the other side, his boot slams down onto the wall right below the hole. It makes you yelp, and your hands slam against the wall to give you the leverage to push off of it. There’s the sound of snapping, before the chain around your neck falls off to hang from the lower curve of the hole. There’s only a moment of hesitation before you stand up on shaky legs to run to your room’s door. However, as you push and turn the handle of the door, the door itself does not budge or even rock with each of your shoves and slams against it.

“Shit-!” You kick the door, before slumping to sit down against it. Effectively trapped. Looking over your shoulder at the handle, you notice a keyhole in the metal just below the handle and groan. So caught up in sucking off the pretty sergeant that you never heard Ghost locking the room from outside the door. And not only that, you were stupid enough to let your dog tags get caught beneath the Lieutenant’s sole, now trapped on the other side of the wall, where you can’t reach. The chain had slid into the other side too, so there was no hope of trying to paw it out of the lieutenant’s reach. You watch as the chain begins to slide and fall into the otherside fully, the sound of the sole of Ghost’s combat boot scraping down the wall sending your heart pounding. In fear? For sure. But also in mind numbing arousal. Your cock still hasn’t flagged and you’re grateful that neither of them can see that.

Gaz has stopped struggling by now. Too dizzy in the feeling of the Lieutenant’s grip on him even as fear pumps heavily from his chest into his limbs. His dick twitches traitorously against the cold air of the room, and he squeezes his eyes shut at the feeling of wetness collecting right below his hood just for it to drip loudly against the floor. The lieutenant curls over Gaz’s heaving body, letting his chest rest on Gaz’s broad back. A chuckle reverates, seems to echo in Gaz’s chest, and he moans into the hand keeping him muffled.

“Thought you were smarter than this, Sergeant.” The arm wrapped around his limbs falls away, dragging down his pretty, dark chest just to let his fingers catch on the tip of Gaz’s left nip. “Coming here when you know us higher-ups are just looking for an excuse to berate any soldier caught red-handed where he shouldn’t be. And yet here you are, handing me the opportunity on a silver platter.” The tips of his fingers trace around his darkened areola, flicking the hard nub for a second before the rough digits pinch it. Seeing that Gaz has calmed down, his other hand moves away from his mouth, hovering above it just in case Gaz tries to shout again.

“Lieutenant-” Gaz gasps, arms shooting up to rest against the wall. Holding himself up by his forearms.

“I know it’s obvious, but let me remind you, Sergeant. Be quiet.” The hand on Gaz’s chest is rough, fingers pinching and groping in a way that leaves him gasping wetly. “Any other person wouldn’t be as nice as I am now.”

His free hand presses against his navel, making Gaz yelp. He bites his lip, teeth sinking into the fat there to muffle the sound of his desperation. He can feel the way Ghost’s fingers course through his curly hair, moving further down to curl around the thick bush framing his cunt. He’s quivering with want, legs spreading invitingly as to tempt the Lieutenant’s large pale hand to move to his dick, to press each rough callus against the sensitive skin. For Ghost’s fingers to pull back the hood of his clit and pinch at the swollen flesh until he cries in the man’s strong arms.

His boot comes up to kick Gaz’s feet further apart, and the hand on his navel moves to wrap around his hip, pressing bruises into the dark skin and moving him with ease so that his stomach and abdomen are flush against the wall again. There’s a loud thud as Gaz’s chest hits the wall, and he shivers when he realises his crotch is pressed against the hole again.

You’re listening to the scuffle and muffled speaking from your cold side of the wall; but soon a sharp whistle breaks you out of it, making you perk up at the sound. It’s weirdly muffled, and you look up to see that the sergeant’s body seems to be covering the hole. Maybe that’s why it’s so muffled. Ghost pulls his hips back, and whistles again. And the sound of quick, continuous clicking comes through the hole clear as day. Realisation pours over you like a bucket of ice. He’s calling you over like a dog, cajoled back into position behind the hole like it’s what you’ve been trained to do. And like any trained dog, you heel. Crawling over as best you can, dick swinging between your legs as you flush, just to sit back on your heels behind the wall. Your hands press against each side of the hole, giving you slight stability. One hand ball into a fist and knocks on the wall, to confirm your position. A chuckle welcomes you. Then the sergeant’s hips are pressed against the wall once more, and you moan at the sight.

The taste of the sergeant is mouth-watering when you lean in to drag your tongue back over his folds. You take your time, dragging the tip of it over his hole and flicking the underside of his cock in the updrag. The sound of a yell being cut off is your reward, and consequently you share in the ecstasy of it by wrapping your chapped lips over his pulsing t-dick, and straining your ears to hear the sound of Ghost and Gaz.

On the other side, Gaz’s cheek is pressed against the cold wall. Held there by Ghost’s marred hand wrapped around his jaw and nape, keeping him pinned. His other hand resting and pushing against his lower back, brown eyes tracing the unnatural curve of the Sergeant’s spine.

“That gymnast background certainly comes in handy, Sergeant,” he murmurs into his ear, balaclava pulled up to rest on the bridge of his nose, “can’t imagine any other man with an arch like this.”

He feels the rough fabric of Ghost’s pants press against the bare skin of his ass, the Lieutenant’s hips slotting against him seamlessly. The hard bulge pressing right above the crease of his ass is heavy, barely kept in his trousers by whatever pair of underwear the man had decided to wear today. He’d rock his ass back to feel it better, if he could. But the firm hand on the base of his spine keeps him pinned and pliable against the wall, only really bothering to try and weakly push his luck by rubbing against Ghost as best as he can. The action causes his hips to move away from the hole just slightly, and yet the whine that claws its way out of your throat is deafening in both rooms. And Gaz can’t help but rut against your desperate tongue as you chase after the taste of him.

Maybe it’s the way Gaz keeps squirming and undulating in his hold, or maybe it’s the wet, desperate sounds you keep making from your own side of the wall. But Ghost can’t help but bring a hand down to loosen the buttons of his jeans and push the thick fabric down just enough for the bulge in his briefs to poke out. He’s quick to pull out his dick, slapping it down to rest back between the dimples on Gaz’s lower back. His cock is heavy, thick in the palm of his hand. The tip is an angry red, and leaking all over the Sergeant’s pretty skin; he moves both his hands to grip at his hips, and sinks each thumb into the dip of Garrick’s back dimples just to watch the way the sergeant shivers and arches his hips further into his grasp. It’s tempting, to just guide his dick lower and lower and just sink into that wet heat that the poor soldier is lapping up on the other side. Sink all eight inches in there and leave something for the boy to lap up once he’s done. But he’s a smarter man than that, a more unyielding man than those young cadets who would sink their dick into any wet hole without thinking of the consequences. So he buries his face into Gaz’s shoulder instead, nipping and dragging crooked teeth over tense muscle. He turns his head, beginning to tease and lick at the little spot beneath Gaz’s ear, over his jaw.

“‘M gonna fuck your thighs, Sergeant,” he breathes, voice rough and thick, like sandpaper, “and you’re gonna let our little dog on the other side service us both.”

It’s an order that he can’t even follow. All he can do is moan and move to press his legs tightly together, to give Ghost something slick to fuck himself into. Because his slick is all over his inner thighs, stray drops of it crawl down the side of his leg just to get soaked up by his field uniform trousers. He pushes his ass back, his head tilting back to rest the back of it on the thick plane of Ghost’s shoulder. Exposing the tender curve of his throat, the bob of his Adam's apple. He feels Ghost drags his dick down past the curve of his ass and begins to prod the head between his thighs. Slowly, excruciatingly so, his thick cock sinks between his thighs. Rubbing and pressing on his pussy lips, and the tip bumping fleetingly against the sensitive underside and crown of his clit. His thighs buck and tense, and Ghost has to press his forehead between Gaz’s shoulder blades to stop himself from moving too fast. He wants to enjoy it, to savour the slick pressure of Gaz’s inner thighs around his dick, the fat and muscle wrapping perfectly around his dick and he’s afraid that once his hips press against Gaz’s ass, that the tip of his dick might not even peek out on the other side. It’s warm and wet, and he can feel each muscle ripple and flex as Gaz fights to keep himself still. He almost wishes he’d have sunk himself into Gaz’s wet cunt instead, and can imagine just how hot and silky his walls would feel around him. How he’d tremble and shake to fit his fat cock in. But this is just as good. To feel the Sergeant’s thighs around him and knowing that the soldier on the other side of the wall will lick at the head of his cock too, eager to please his higher-ups.

You draw back, nose, mouth and chin wet with Gaz’s slick and eyes half-lidded in pleasure. The pressure in your trousers is agonizing, and so you reach down to undo your trousers, as you watch Gaz’s lower body through the hole. You watch, as his thighs twitch, and as between them, something causes the surrounding muscle and fat to dent and furrow, until the head of Ghost’s cock peeks through just the tiniest amount. The red tip squished between dark thighs and dripped precum down the crease of them. And it looks so tasty, you can't help but lick your lips. Just a little push more, and the tip fully pokes out from between his thighs. And you're too focused on your own pleasure, too wrapped up in the feeling of finally fishing out your own erection from the confines of your underwear, that all you do is watch as Ghost seems to begin thrusting at an even pace. Just watching the head disappear every other second, and matching the pace with your hand around your cock. Gaz's own dick pulses with each thrust, so neglected that you can see each throb run down the small length of it.

There's a sharp whistle, quick and unforgiving. And you dive back in, palming yourself as you bury your face back between Gaz's legs. It's a hard job, this time. Trying to focus on both Gaz's cock and the tip of Ghost's, switching frequently as to not leave one or the other too neglected. Because every time you get lost in the taste of Ghost’s spongy head, Gaz’s whines grow in volume and he smacks his hips brashly into the wall. And if you focus too long on suckling on Gaz’s clit, Ghost’s knuckles rap against the wall as if to remind you to service them both; to forgo favouritism and give him a little helping hand, too.

Gaz’s first orgasm of the night comes from a stroke of pure luck. The length of Ghost’s cock shifts and gets pushed up higher by the fat of his dark thighs, and the head catches on the underside of Gaz’s own cock, just as teeth graze the sensitive bundle of nerves of his crown when you drag away from it. The sight he makes is picture worthy, makes the Lieutenant wish he’d brought his camera along. Swollen, teeth-bitten lips falling open in a breathless gasp, as Gaz’s pretty brown eyes roll back and his eyelids drop and close to leave just a sliver of white visible. His Adam's apple bobs, the skin highlighted by the thin-coating of sweat just to tempt Ghost into sinking his teeth into him and never letting go. Each muscle in his body tenses and contorts, the dim light through the window defining each line of tense ligaments, even despite the late hour.

But it doesn’t matter how pretty he looks as he comes undone; or maybe it’s because of how pretty it looks that Ghost wants to continue. But whichever one it is, the outcome is the same. Ghost’s hands wrapping around those twitching hips and rutting harder and harder, angling himself to hit that sweet spot with each thrust, just to hear the cries and yells from the sergeant. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore that they have to be quiet, not when the sound of Gaz being double teamed by a goddamn rookie and his own Lieutenant was so delightful. Ripping down the Sergeant’s charismatic persona, just to work him into depravity. Working him enough that he seems to be dragged into the second orgasm of the night.

His eyes are unfocused as he feels a pressure in his abdomen. It takes a few more mind numbing thrusts, and another stronger yet disappointingly empty orgasm for Gaz to realise that not everything is going straight as planned. The pressure in his bladder is unavoidable now and, as Ghost crowds him closer to the wall, the constant shoving makes it much clearer and much more painful. But it’s hard to talk around the fog in his head, tongue heavy and unresponsive as it begins to loll out of his mouth. He gasps wetly, hands moving clumsily again to push at Ghost’s hips and to try and push your head away too. There’s a loud whine from you, as Gaz’s hand finds your mouth and pushes against it. Your tongue lapping at the space between his fingers in an attempt to appease him. Ghost is less lenient. He chooses, instead, to dip his head down and sink his teeth into Gaz’s nape, fingers digging hard into the fat of his hips in a way that’ll bruise and sting in the next coming days with any movement.

“Lieutenant-”

A growl reverates through his spine, turning to shivers half way.

“LT, please- I need-” There’s his hand again, scrambling to hook into the loop of Ghost’s jeans and push him back. “Just a minute, please! I need to- to use the bathroom. Won’t take long at all just-”

“What’s stopping you?”

Gaz’s forehead smacks into the wall. Eyes shaking with the effort to focus despite LT’s cockhead sliding against his.

“Well?”

“I don’t, I don’t think I understa-and, LT.”

Ghost leans further into him, like he’s trying to mould the shape of Gaz into his front. Like he’s trying to carve the shape of him into his chest. The hand on his right hip slides around to lay flat against his stomach before dragging down and down. Until his index and middle fingers are framing his t-dick, pinching it between the fat digits and causing Gaz’s knees to buckle. He pulls it up, ignoring the pulsing that Gaz is sure he can feel even through those thick calluses dragging into his sensitive skin.

“Go then. I’m sure our boy will appreciate the drink too.”

Gaz’s hand slips from your face then. His fingers drag down your lower face until they drop entirely off of it. Once freed, you’re happy to sink your face back between his folds, lapping at the space between the Lieutenant’s fingers to give attention to the Sergeant’s clit. And he cries. Fat globs running down his already sweat-soaked face, overwhelmed by the feeling of so many things hitting him at once. An orgasm rips through him, a weak moan falling off his lips as he tries to regain his bearings.

The Lieutenant’s cock digs deeper between his thighs, and he can feel Ghost’s other hand move it up closer to his folds. He can’t see it, with how blurry his vision is with tears. He can feel the pressure double, his dick feeling sore and bruised from the sheer amount of pressure and stimulation it’s taking. Unused to it all, having jumped from jerking off every two nights to being taken apart by two military personnels who seemed to know his body better than himself. And it’s getting harder to hold himself back, his brain is too scrambled and he’s a good soldier, a good boy. And-

"Piss, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

The words, mixed with the fourth orgasm of the night, act as a sort of sedative. Like the type he’d seen Captains and medics use with unrulier soldiers, the sort that took seconds to send a body limp. And that’s what it feels like, as his body drops just for Ghost to pick up the slack once more, one arm coming to hold him upright. The other-

His hand is still holding his crotch, fingers pulling his dick up to keep his folds open as his bladder empties right on your face. You aren’t stupid, had heard Gaz’s useless begging. And despite your dignity, if you truly had any left, you lap up that too. It’s hot, and bitter, and would be gross, if you were any less dirty. But like any good dog, you lick up the treat as it comes, giving up on getting it all in your mouth and settling on the fact that you’ll just have to be covered in it. It runs down your lower face and past your neck, soaking up the front of your shirt and spilling onto your sweatpants and boxers. It goes on forever, until the stream begins to lessen and dribble, until all there is left are a few little droplets. Which you clean up of course.

You pull away then, a strangled groan leaving you as your hand tightens around your hard dick, and pumps once, twice just to spill all over the dirty floor, mixing with the piss and the sweat.

“Good boy, soldier. Stay there.”

There’s the sound of a body being set down on the floor, soft mumblings that you can’t quite make out through the wall. Then footsteps, petering out slowly until all you can hear is your own heartbeat in between your ears and the soft breathing of somebody on the other side. Probably Gaz. Then there’s the sound of the door, and light from the hallway streaming in from it.

The silhouette of Ghost in the doorway should be terrifying. And really, it does send your heart hammering in your chest. But your dick also twitches feebly between your thighs, slowly chubbing up again from its softened state. You can’t help but glance down at yourself. But there’s nothing left to salvage. Your clothes are dark from the piss and sweat soaking the material, and you just look a mess. The mere seconds it takes the Lieutenant to amble over to you it’s useless for you to do anything but watch, rapt, as his body begins to loom over you. He stops just a few inches from you, face level with his hips and with his dick, still sticking out from the gap of his zipper and rock hard.

“You look filthy,” he says without preamble, “didn’t know we raised street dogs.”

You shiver, eyes half-lidded and wet. You cough weakly, face tilting to look at the floor. His hand comes down to rest on your head, before curling his hand to pull your face up to meet his again. The other hand grabs at your chin, the thumb dragging over your jaw before digging into your cheek and prying your mouth open. Saliva connects your tongue to the roof.

“You’re gonna let me use you to get off,” he mumbles, fingers tightening around your jaw, “and then I’m sure Gaz will be happy to use you again.”

He brings you closer, till the head of his dick traces your lower lip, precum shiny against the skin. Your tongue darts out to lick at it, and he takes it as a green light to sink his cock into your throat. It doesn’t take long at all, really. His dick throbbing in your mouth by the fourth thrust, his hands moving to hold the sides of your head by the time your throat begins hurting. He’s using you as a fleshlight, unforgiving and relentless. He sinks the full length as he comes, his balls slapping on your chin and becoming slick with whatever come you fail to swallow and instead let dribble past the corners of your mouth.

He pulls back, and you gasp. Licking at your mouth for whatever you can reach that way. You look up, to Gaz leaning against the wall behind Ghost.

"Round two?”

Credit to Cafekitsune for their gorgeous dividers!

[canadianbakinblr]

I'm not gonna lie, for a second there I thought this was fanart of Captain Jack Aubrey(from Patrick O' Brian's book Aubrey-Matruin bookseries) with Wyll Ravengard and I was very confused, but very enthusiastic, about a possible Baldur's Gate 3 crossover fic. Wyll strikes me as a fellow who would possibly be inclined to a naval swashbuckling lifestyle.

Size difference and hair ties and one owlbear

[sunflowerwizard]

I've seen enough people mischaracterizing Early Access Wyll, so here's the best breakdown of his original character I can give.

I'll start this off by plainly summarizing Wyll's EA backstory, some of his core personality traits, then do a bit of analysis.

BACKSTORY

EA Wyll mentions being "born and bred in the upper city" into nobility. It's unspecified what exact level of influence his family occupied.

In datamined voice lines from EA (take with a grain of salt) Wyll refers to being from House Eltan specifically. Eltan was the Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate in the first Baldur's Gate Game, and the founder of the Flaming Fist. Forgotten Realms lore states that the Eltans are no longer in charge of the Fist and have somewhat diminished in power, but again. We don't know to exactly what level.

This also means that this iteration of Wyll was not Ulder Ravengard's son. While he still spoke about his father in EA, the descriptions and characterizations do not line up with Ulder at all. Additionally, he comments about "knowing of" Ravengard during the burning inn sequence, but otherwise makes no connection.

The most damning evidence of all that Wyll being a Ravengard was not originally intended, is Wyll wanting to be like his father and thus "going thieving in the wrong shadows".

Wyll gets caught stealing, presumably as a teenager, and his father uses latent connections within the Flaming Fist to get Wyll sent there. Effectively the fantasy equivalent of sending your unruly kid to boot camp.

Wyll mentions that he didn't adjust well to life as part of the Flaming Fist, was not a very good fighter, and was generally not well liked. The goblin at the windmill calling Wyll "Captain Failure" implies he might have been given higher status despite not earning it.

The way Wyll feels about goblins is a big change between EA and full release, and is explained as part of his backstory.

We didn't get the finer details, but we can assume Wyll in his time with the Fist bore witness to a group of goblins razing a village. Horrified and enraged, he tried fighting a goblin, was overwhelmed, and had his eye torn out.

This is when Mizora showed up and offered him a pact. Considering he was left for dead and probably going to bleed out, it's pretty understandable why he took the deal.

Mizora is not nearly as present in Early Access as she is in the current game. Karlach was not involved in Wyll's story at all, there's no devil transformation.

It's also more heavily insinuated there's a sexually coercive element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship, with him speaking to how every time he wanted to leave her, she found some way to pull him back.

Additionally, Wyll wants out of that contract. Unlike full release where Mizora is randomly captured in Act 2, she starts off kidnapped, and insists she'll let Wyll go if he frees her

It kind of ended up being a plot cul de sac, but Torturer Spike was the goblin that took Wyll's eye--which was a quest item you could pickpocket/loot off his body. Wyll had commentary on it and everything.

TL;DR: -Born to a noble family with Flaming Fist connections -Caught Stealing and sent to work for the Fist as punishment -Tried to fight back during a goblin attack and was gravely injured -Mizora offers a pact -Uses his pact to become a traveling monster hunter, presumably to make up for his past failure to protect people. Antagonistic towards goblins in particular -Ultimately wants out of the pact, but Mizora won't let him go -Wyll and Mizora get abducted by Mind Flayers -Mizora agrees to let Wyll go if he frees her from the cultists

PERSONALITY

This is a bit less concrete than changed story beats, but I can say this: a lot of Wyll's core traits stayed intact between EA and full release. He's still willing to put his life on the line for the Tiefling refugees, with a whole cut line about how the kids he's training deserve to have a carefree childhood. He wants to do good in the world, probably because he spent so much time in his youth feeling like a fuck up.

There's also a much clearer divide between "Wyll" and "The Blade of Frontiers". Notably, in EA he didn't introduce himself by name. Not even a "my friends call me Wyll" quip at Shadowheart like he has currently. During his old romance scene, he has a line about being used to being the hero, and not used to needing one. He's a symbol. An emblem of something bigger than himself. The fact he's so self-aggrandizing as The Blade makes it apparent he's not confident in himself as "just Wyll"

He's also decidedly more forward and flirty in EA, with no reservations about courtship. In fact, the main obstacle to your budding relationship is Mizora herself. Wyll's trauma from her treatment interrupts your first night together. Whether you have sex or just snuggle, Wyll has a line about how he doesn't want to start a relationship until he can "give himself completely" after being freed from his pact.

THOUGHTS & COMPARISONS

I'm also not entirely sure if I'd say EA Wyll is substantially angrier than current Wyll, so much as he had more opportunities to be angry during Early Access. I can understand why the goblin stuff was cut, because it did dip into "Let's make the one black guy fantasy racist" trope. However, it did very much feel like the narrative was pointing in bright, flashing colors that this is a trait Wyll would have to grapple with, learn, and grow from. The fact EA Wyll's most glaring character flaw was scrapped and didn't get much of a replacement in full release makes his story feel less realized.

While I appreciate the overtly sexual element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship was removed, I feel like the final version is somehow even more creepy. During Early Access she existed in the background as a vague villain you only experience via Wyll. And if you do his romance scene and see the way he panics at the mere memory of her, you get the impression of oh shit. This broad is bad news and I've gotta get my boy out of there. The same principle behind not showing the big scary monster too early in the horror movie. Once you've seen it, you can't let your mind fill in the blanks. Mizora went from this intimidating figure whose motives you couldn't fully ascertain, to a mean girl that thinks she's smarter than everyone else but is really just the bumbling lackey of a bigger fish. Who pulls Wyll around with an actual metaphysical leash like a dog. And you're meant to find this sexy.

My final point, and I've said this before: current Wyll's personality seemed more suited to being a scion of house Eltan, while EA Wyll seemed more suited to being Ulder Ravengard's dissapointment son. Current Wyll speaks and carries him like someone raised in nobility despite only being elevated to such status as a teenager. Perhaps this is cynical and maybe even a bit of a conspiracy theory, but I genuinely think he's only Ravengard's son to save on time and assets. Why give Wyll a whole unique family with its own story when we can just tie him in to the "rescue the grand duke" plot, regardless of how much sense it makes!

[maithefluffychicken]

It's a shock, for Astarion, when Wyll simply says "no" to Halsin, once the big druid openly asks the young man for his favours.

Astarion is, as he does, eavesdropping their conversation - a terrible, awful habit he has - and has to suppress a gasp when Wyll rejects Halsin, in a gentlemanly, extremely polite way.

If Halsin looks disappointed by it, Astarion can't say. In his shock, the pale elf rushes to his tent, ignoring the inquisitive glances of his favourite ex-sharran cleric. Maybe he'd tell her later, sharing one of the expensive bottles of wine Astarion likes to borrow from forgotten shelves.

Back in his tent, and with Gale muttering far too close to his liking, Astarion tries to distract himself with a spicy book he found earlier that day in the city. And right before the fierce pirate captain could kiss the hero of the story, Wyll clears his throat to get his attention.

Astarion smiles at him, his stomach feeling light and funny. Fuck him, to feel all flustered just because of a human.

Devil?

Is Wyll still human? Not that Astarion cares. A devil lives longer than a human, if they both survive all this illithid shit, then... maybe then...

"Gods, you're beautiful," Astarion lets the praise slip through his lips. He wishes his voice wouldn't sound as needy as he feels. But Wyll really is breathtaking, his dark skin glowing softly thanks to the closer candles.

"Astarion, I..." Wyll is nervous, he has to clear his throat again. He's so delightful. "Halsin..."

"Oh, darling, I was wondering how long it'd take for him to try!" Astarion barks a high pitched laugh, feigning surprise.

"How did you know?!"

"I guessed it!" Astarion lies. Imitates the druid's voice and speech about free love. Wyll looks both shocked and amused.

"I said no, anyway," Wyll continues. "Just wanted to tell you what happened."

"You saif 'no'? Why would you refuse the company of such a creature?" Astarion asks and he honestly wants to know the answer. "I wouldn't get mad if you ever wanted to have a ride with the bear, darling."

"I know you wouldn't oppose to open our relationship, my star," Wyll says, smiles at Astarion so sweetly it hurts. "But I'd rather be just us, if that's ok? I'm too old fashioned I'm afraid, and I'd understand if you-"

Astarion takes Wyll's hands in his. He doesn't initiates contact first often, so this small gesture is enough to get Wyll's full attention.

"You don't want to? Even if it's been a while since we haven't...?" Astarion asks, if he had a heart, the poor thing would be hammering in his chest like a bat out of hell.

"Astarion, my love, I'm not with you because of sex," Wyll says slowly, looking at Astarion's ruby eyes intently. "If you don't want to have sex ever again, that'd be fine. I just want to be with you, because of you, and I'd be happy to be with you for as long as you'll have me."

"I- Yeah, I was being foolish, wasn't I?"

"May I kiss you, my star?"

"Y-yes," Astarion swallows, taken aback by the duke's warmth, by his soft, gentle manners. By the love this young man proclaims to feel towards him.

Their lips meet in the middle, and Astarion doesn't doubt to deepen it, pouring all his feeligs, his needs and his fears into it.

Wyll look dazed when they take a step back, his lips glistening, a soft dopey smile in them.

"Ah, you are perfect, Wyll Ravengard."

[kissingarthurclaus]

♡ PINNED POST ♡

My name is Jane (I also go by Brie!) And I'm a 25 year old lesbian self shipper that ships with both male and female fictional characters!

I'm taken irl by @/cherry-bomb-ships who you should also follow I love them very much! 💗💗

I have lots of interests (including Star Wars, The Muppets/Fraggle Rock, cartoons, broadway musicals, and many more that I may post about from time to time!)

I'm currently focused on my Arcane polyship with Viktor, Jayce, and Mel but my main f/o forever and ever is Captain Rex from The Clone Wars! (full f/o list under the readmore)

Proship do not fucking interact!!

That's it really! I love interaction even if I get tired sometimes and go nonverbal I still lurk and love supporting fellow self shippers whenever I can!! ^ w ^

Follows from @ihaterossfromfriends

❤️ Romantic F/Os ❤️

Captain Rex (Star Wars: The Clone Wars etc.) ship tag: 💙 oh captain my captain 💙 (keep in mind Rex is the ONLY f/o I'm uncomfortable with sharing!)

Crosshair (The Bad Batch) ship tag: 🎯 baby shot me down 🎯

Arthur Claus (Arthur Christmas) ship tag: 🎄 my christmas wish 🎄

Jayce Talis, Viktor, Mel Medarda (Arcane): ship tag: 🔵 hextechule 🔵

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Data (Star Trek: The Next Generation) ship tag: 💛 love makes us human 💛

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Luigi (Super Mario Bros.) ship tag: 💚 two player game 💚

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Professor Utonium (The Powerpuff Girls) ship tag: 🔬 starkissed scientist 🔬

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Samurai Jack (Samurai Jack) crush tag: ☯️

Frankie Foster (Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends) crush tag: 🍪

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

This has been on my mind lately

But what SpongeBob characters do you think the BG3 companions are? Here’s my list (in this case relationships with other SpongeBob characters do not matter, I’m only comparing due to their personalities and traits lol)

1) SpongeBob = Karlach, no question

2) Patrick = Minsc

3) Mr. Krabs = Ketheric

4) Sandy = Jaheira but could also be Gale

5) Squidward = Astarion

6) Squilliam Fancyson = Ascended Astarion

7) Pearl = Isobel but could also be Shadowheart (Isobel only makes sense because Mr Krabs is Ketheric)

8) Gary = Tara

9) Larry the Lobster = HALSIN FOR SURE

10) The Flying Dutchman = Ethel disguised as the Captain in the Blushing Mermaid

11) King Triton = Wyll Ravengard

12) Plankton = Gortash

13) King Neptune = Duke Ravengard

14) Man Ray = Durge

15) Karen = Minthara

16) Bubble Buddy = Also Wyll

17) The Sea Bear = Also Halsin

18) The Tattletale Strangler = Cazador

19) Mrs Puff = Lae’Zel

20) The Hot Sauce Bottle from season 1 that burned SpongeBob’s tongue = Raphael

21) Patchy the Pirate = Orin (it’s because of the chaotic energy I have no other way to explain it 😭)

22) Robot Krabs = Apostle of Myrkul

[serpenlupus]

I really needed to watercolor something this weekend and I remembered that one illustration from @/kalidels of their Regency AU ,and I caved

“Captain Ravengard at your service”

It was really weird to draw him without horns so I had to sneak in at least one sketch of him being charming and elegant with his horns xD (and also one of him looking like he is saying “provoke the blade and suffer its sting”, because, GOOD reasons)

The idea consumed me this weekend and I may have overdone it xD but you’ll have to wait a bit for me to post them because I have to make the sketches presentable

[lelianasbong]

HEY ive seen talk here & there about how EA!wyll is way different from how he is now. can you tell me what the rewrite changed about his character, im so so curious

AAAHHHHH YES. So okay. I tried to break this down into more digestible pieces and I'm working almost entirely off my memory so please forgive (and for anyone who's reading and knows better, feel free to correct) any errors.

Wyll's story - originally Wyll was a son of house Eltan (relatively minor noble house compared to Ravengard but still very well-known, they founded the Flaming Fists). He was sent to the Fists as punishment for stealing (this was seemingly where his strained relationship with his father began, rather than the pact with Mizora - which came later rather than him defending Baldur's Gate at seventeen). Apparently he didn't excel there because in addition to the disastrous goblin attack that led him to treating with Mizora in the first place, one of the Flaming Fists talks shit about him when you meet her, the gobbos call him Captain Failure, etc.

Wyll's personality - he was quicker to anger, especially as it concerned goblins. His whole vendetta was against goblins: they killed people, stole his eye (and were HOLDING ONTO IT IN THE CAMP) rather than him losing it during the battle with the Cult of the Dragon. He was ready and willing to torture the goblins at the windmill on the off chance that they had intel on the one that took his eye, and when you met Spike Wyll would tadpole into your brain with an eager LET'S KILL THEM. His Blade of Frontiers persona was just a little more obviously put-on, like he was clinging to it out of insecurity.

EA Wyll was more prone to puns and saying weird shit than even his final release self (which is saying something bc Wyll as he is now loves puns & whimsy & being a huge cheeseball).

Wyll's romance - EA Wyll was willing to get physical sooner, even though Mizora's presence cast a dark cloud on the romance. She'd interrupt your moment of intimacy using Wyll's sending stone (though it's a bit ambiguous whether it's actually her or Wyll's conflicted feelings toward her that makes him hesitate). You can tell he's sort of playing the suave hero during the scene - "may I kiss you?", "where were we?", leaning in and smirking, the whole bit. You basically had the choice to 1) fuck him so good he forgot all about Mizora or 2) hold him through the night and just make him feel safe and protected, which surprises and pleases him - "I'm used to being the hero. Not so used to needing one."

Mizora - she was kidnapped by goblins in EA and that was her whole rescue mission, rather than being spirited away to Moonrise. Wyll in final release explicitly states that he's never slept with Mizora - "I'm really not that kind of man" - but in EA there was some indication that their relationship was physical, that he wanted her despite himself.

[blackjackkent]

A stocky dwarf with a monacle and a rather proprietary air speaks up as Rakha approaches the underwater dock.

"Oi, what's this? You ain't supposed to be down here, mate."

Narrator: A submersible. It matches the description of the vehicle that brought the Gondian hostages into the Iron Throne.

(A/N: We have a couple of fun options for deception checks here, including a few bard-specific ones, but the intimidation check is VERY Rakha-ish.)

Rakha already knows exactly what's going on here - and that this vehicle was used to bring the Gondian hostages (and, it seems, Wyll's father) deeper below for imprisonment and torture. So she's not interested in playing games. She fixes the dwarf with an impassive glare. [INTIMIDATION] "I have questions. You have answers," she growls.

The dwarf flinches nervously. "Let me guess," he says. "This is about them Umberlee servants. You tell them to stay out of the way! Cap needs right-of-way - he can't stop on a dime when they go darting in front of the prow."

Rakha blinks. This is, to put it mildly, not the response she expected. "Who's Cap?" she asks, bemused.

"This big boy!" the dwarf says proudly, gesturing at the submersible. "The Captain of Grey Harbor. Built him with my own two hands. Can take the passage between here and the Iron Throne faster than you can say 'fuck the Absolute'."

Rakha's eyes narrow slightly. That answers one question at least; if this fellow created the submersible, he can presumably pilot it into the depths they're trying to reach.

"What goes on at this port?" she asks carefully.

"Nothing, without Lord Gortash's go-ahead," the dwarf says curtly. "I transport whoever he needs taken to the Iron Throne. Prisoners, mostly. But that's his business."

Rakha's head tips forward with sudden intensity. "The Iron Throne - that's just the place I need," she says. "What do you know?"

The man's eyes narrow even further. "You testing me?" he asks warily. "All right." Hooking his hands behind his back, he recites, "It's an underwater prison - most secure in the Realms. Myself and Cap are the only ones who can make it there in one piece. Lord Gortash keeps some Gondians there, collateral to keep those working in the Steel Watch foundry under control."

(A/N: Wyll has an interjected line here in which he basically shouts, "Ulder Ravengard is here! He must be!" which is a bit odd. According to the dialogue files, this is triggered by a variable labeled 86602965-004b-8982-eabe-8909b3bf4f40_AskedAboutRavengardAmongPrisoners, which we definitely have not done. I'm assuming this also got set to true by Rakha reading that note back at the Foundry about Ravengard getting sent to the Throne, but for our story purposes, Rakha didn't show Wyll that.)

"I need to get to the Iron Throne," Rakha says, flat and matter-of-fact.

"Do you now?" the dwarf says skeptically. "Boss never sends anyone that-a-way but prisoners."

Time is of the essence and this is wasting it. Rakha takes a slow step forward until she is towering her full seven feet of height very deliberately over the man. [INTIMIDATION] "I'm meant to go," she says through her teeth. "Trust me."

"All right, all right," the dwarf says hastily. "Keep that mad dog stare to yourself." He shrugs. "I'll take you in. But look - there's some bad shit going down in there. You don't want to get involved. Neither did I, but it was them or me."

He pushes past her towards the submersible's ladder. "I'll get Cap warmed up. Get in when you're ready."

-----

When the dwarf has disappeared, Wyll looks at Rakha. He expects her to look triumphant, with the way opened to the Iron Throne and their successful rescue mission - but instead he finds that she looks grim and has gone very still.

"Good job," he tells her with a slight smile, taking her hand and squeezing it. "That was exactly what we needed."

She shrugs.

He frowns. "What is it?"

A muscle works in her jaw. "'Keep that mad dog stare to yourself,' he said," she mutters with a low, humorless laugh. "Nothing changes, does it?"

Wyll remembers Ketheric Thorm staring Rakha down in those days in the Shadowlands at the height of her bloodlust, and the bitter, mocking tone in his voice - it is fitting that one mad dog should judge another.

"You didn't fight him," he points out after a short pause, because he isn't sure what else to say. "You didn't kill anyone here."

"Yes," she agrees, but the brooding expression on her face doesn't shift, and she trudges away from him towards the submersible's hatch without another word.

[creaturefeaturecommando]

If Davrin is a fully fleshed character with a fully fleshed romance, with his redeeming qualities and flaws as all characters should have, I’ll be proud of BioWare. Proud that they finally got it right. But not that proud because why the fuck did it take you people so long to finally figure out how to do black characters ? Jacob Taylor was the worst racial stereotype of a character that they pushed out, literally made him an adulterous man with father issues, who cheats on you six months in with a side chick and gets her pregnant not to mention that he’s racist but he works for a racist terrorist organization so of course he’s racist. Then you have Liam Costa, and Liam isn’t really bad per se and I haven’t romanced him but he, along with a lot of characters in Andromeda just felt flat because the game so was rushed that it felt like they didn’t have time to flesh these characters out so it really isn’t just a Liam thing, it’s an entire game thing. And don’t bring up Captain Anderson. I love Captain Anderson, he’s great but he eventually gets killed off so while he’s great, his death still leaves us with one less black character that actually brings something to the table so we still have Jacob who’s the absolute worst and Liam who we’re probably not going to see again due to Andromeda being so widely hated that it’s uncertain that they’re going to even return to it with Ryder and the Tempest crew.

But it’s 2024, we should know how to write black characters by now. Like it’s not fucking hard to get black people in the writers room for advice on how to handle these characters.

Like I’ll give them a flower if they actually took the time to get it right and right their wrongs but I’m not going to suck their dick and act like they’re the greatest of all time when it took them way longer than it should have and there’s still the high chance of them not getting it right because their track record fucking sucks and the fact that even though it’s 2024, not even Larian studios could give their black character a speckle of attention and with the way fandoms are still openly racist, Davrin could have the best possible romance and storyline and he’ll still be sidelined for a white character fandom-wise because a majority white fan base with crumple at the thought of actually trying to like a black character

In conclusion my hopes are high that BioWare will do better with Davrin than their previous black characters and that they’ll treat Davrin better than how Larian treats Wyll but given their previous track record my hopes are not that high and video game studios will still put the preferences of their white audience over their BIPOC audience so while there’s a high chance that they’ll do better there’s still a higher chance that they’ll completely fumble the ball

[grimoireofhayley]

Grimoire of Hayley's Masterlist

Hello and Welcome to my Masterlist.

Here you will find both continued and currently writing stories/series and their links, which is always nice as it brings you straight to it. My Masterlist will always be updated and you'll find every literature piece I've ever written located here.

When Requesting Prompts/Headcanons/One-Shots:

I will write anything whether it be triggering to many or not triggering at all, whether it be dark and grotesque to light and heartwarming; nothing is off limits (I am a splatterpunk/extreme horror author) but please be specific with what you want in the 'Ask Away' section of my blog.

Below are a list of things I will need... I WILL AUTOMATICALLY DECLINE if I am missing all three things in the request.

Pronouns

Character or Characters you want written for/about

Prompt/Idea

Example: "Hi, I would like to request a prompt where reader's pronouns are she/her and I want it to be with Billy Loomis where reader is upset that Billy has gotten so close to Sidney, I want it to be angsty, possible friends to lovers trove."

!RULES FOR MY BLOG!

THIS IS A 18+ BLOG, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, as there will be hardcore smut (even though I’m still learning how to write it, haha), swearing, and graphic content...

I DO NOT tolerate any kind of bullying in the comments, if I see any, you will be automatically removed from any tag list you may have requested to be on, your comment will be removed and you will be blocked. So, please, NO BULLYING.

BE RESPECTFUL to me and to others

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION for MY STORIES to be posted on other sites!

Fandoms I’ll write for 🥵

CALL OF DUTY

•Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, Captain John Price, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

BALDUR'S GATE 3

Astarion Ancunin, Gale of Waterdeep, Wyll Ravengard, Shadowheart, Karlach, Halsin, Raphael, Lae'zel,

SCREAM

Stu Macher, Billy Loomis, Randy Meeks, Charlie Walker, Dewey Riley

HORROR

Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Ghostface (obvs 🤟🏻) Pyramid Head

RESIDENT EVIL

Leon Kennedy, Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Albert Wesker, Claire Redfield, Ethan Winters

THE WALKING DEAD

Daryl Dixon, Rick Grimes, Glenn Rhee, Negan Smith

STRANGER THINGS

Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove

SUPERNATURAL

Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Crowley, Lucifer, John Winchester

EVIL DEAD (Series and Movies)

Ash Williams, Pablo, Baal, Kelly Maxwell, Ruby

☣️Reading Lists/My Works☣️

Stranger Things

Colourful Mind (Eddie Fic) (Cancelled)

The Jealousy Monster (Eddie Fic) (Completed)

Scream

Of Friends and Horror (Stu and Billy Fic) (Currently on hiatus as I’m in the process of severe editing it…)

Baldur's Gate 3

Cheri Cheri Lady (Astarion FanFiction)

Resident Evil

Slayer (Leon Kennedy One-Shot, Semi-Smut)

Shackles (Leon Kennedy/TF141 FanFiction) (Current Series!)