#my brain just has these characters in a vice grip

[flowersarefreetherapy]

Pretty Like a Flower

Leigh/Kestrel belongs to @for-the-love-of-angst and is used with their permission!

CW: implied past noncon, angst, brief gender dysphoria

He sets aside a carved flower, placing it gently on his desk. A lilac. Like the flowers that bloomed around the house where he delivered papers as part of his cover, all those years ago. The house where he opened the door to a handsome man smiling at him. The house where he made the decision to stay every week for tea. The house whose walls saw his birth form as they laughed in the kitchen. The house that hid his screams from the world the first time he was forced onto the bed and held down. 

Stephen runs his hands down his face and sighs. The light ripples around him, sharpening the angles of his face as he stands. There are children to take care of and a council to run.

But he allows himself a moment of hesitation, letting his fingers linger on the lilac. It was a stupid name. Given to his child in the midst of blood and sweat and tears. But it was a fitting one. A reminder of the beauty that surrounded a place of violence. 

One hand brushes low on his stomach, around the muscles there no magic can repair. Some of the younger Hexers tease him about something called a “dad bod”. It feels fitting, even if he has removed every mirror in his home. Their jokes remind him that he has a home, a place where he is safe and accepted and loved. True love, not the polished lies he was fed time and time again. A mistake he paid for in blood. But they love him, giving him the time needed to fix his mistakes.

The young girl is his favorite to train. She’s a fast learner and picks up on magic quickly. Lilac would probably be the same. Possibly. She has pure light and magic running through her veins. Lilac is tainted.

No, not tainted. Just not purely magic. Stephen takes a deep breath and grabs his cloak. He cannot think of his child in that manner. If he starts, then his brain drags him down a winding road of memories, of never ending pain that started in the hands of that man and ended with him in his grandmother’s arms, sobs mixed with the high keen of a baby’s first cry. 

I love them. I love them no matter what. 

So why don’t you see them?

I can’t. I can’t go back. It’ll kill me if I do.

He steps outside, taking a deep breath of the crisp morning air. The sunlight streams down around him. It envelopes his limbs, dances across his face, and seeps into his skin. Bending to his will as it sharpens the shadows around his lower jaw, catching the light in a way that mimics stubble. Stephen smiles and walks into the streets that are so familiar to him after all these years. 

Neighbors call out his name and wave. He responds in kind, reminding himself there is beauty in the world. Not everyone wants to twist and destroy. A few of them stop and talk with him about plans for the day. Philip, one of his other pupils, shows him the glass he infused with moonlight, explaining how it glows brighter at night. He made it for his younger sister, who is afraid of the dark. Stephen congratulates him, but cannot help wondering if Lilac is scared of the dark too.

Stephen stops by the carpenter's shop and picks up three more pieces of pine. They’re larger, the right size for the lilacs he plans to carve. Then he goes and picks up paint. That takes longer than expected, because he cannot fully remember the shade of lilac that surrounds the house. Was it darker? No, that was because they were out there at night, trying hard to keep quiet as he kissed Stephen under the moonlight. They were lighter. Or was that the trick of his mind, focusing on the warm sunlight instead of the pain in his stomach when he paced the backyard for hours? 

He shakes his head and grabs a light purple. Both the wood and the paint disappear into his satchel. Stephen takes a deep breath and walks to the large building only a few blocks away. 

Sunlight gleams off the large windows in the roof, falling in shifting sunbeams onto the marble floor below. The paneled walls are being folded down as he walks up, allowing for more sunlight to flood in. He waves at several of the other instructors. Angelica waves back, tossing her braids back over her shoulder as she walks over.

“You’re late.”

Stephen shrugs. “I had to pick up some more paint.”

She nods. “Close enough to a good excuse. Aaron wants to call together a meeting before the kids get here.”

“Why?”

“Talking about safety protocols again. I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention that closely.”

“Did Tabitha happen to be in the vicinity when this not listening was happening?”

Angelia punches his shoulder. “You’re funny. Don’t say her name so loudly.”

Stephen laughs. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

He walks to the small training room that doubles as his and Aaron’s office. As it does every day, his gaze drifts to the family painting Aaron has on his desk. A wife, six children, and a dog smile back at him. The kids have Aaron’s untamed curls. His chest pangs and he turns away sharply. 

Stephen puts his satchel on his desk and walks back to the training room, absentmindedly twisting the pendant around his neck. The rest of the instructors trickle in, gathering around Aaron in the center of the room. He nods to Stephen when he sees him. Stephen nods back and stands between Angelica and Evan, who sways back and forth as the layered skirt swirls around their feet.

“How are you going to train in that?” Angelica whispers. 

Evan shrugs. “Easily. Just like you train with your braids down. Besides, looking good is more important. Awe your enemies and everything.”

“You always wow your enemies,” Stephen says. “You’re the best dressed out of all of us.”

Evan smiles. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”

“It’s the truth.”

Aaron’s staff thuds against the stone. He stands tall, curls pushed back from his forehead by a thick red scarf. There is no welcoming smile and Stephen knows right away what the meeting is about. 

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never meant for any of this to happen. 

“The attacks are getting stronger,” Aaron says, his voice slow and measured. Next to him, Helios interprets for his husband, Mix. “Last week, there were three against the other clan and Tabitha spotted another band of hunters close to the edge of the city.”

“I scared them off,” Tabitha says. “But that doesn’t mean they won’t come back.”

You’ll come back, I know you will. You have nowhere else to go. They’ll disown you because of the child. 

Stephen shakes his head. The last thing he needs is that man’s words beating through his mind. 

“We should have just helped the king,” Mix says. Helios glares at him although he voices his husband’s concerns. “Then we wouldn’t be in this mess and there would be no concern for our people.”

Aaron nods. “I understand everyone’s fears. However, the council sticks to its decision.”

“We should have-”

“Should doesn’t change anything,” Stephen says. “Should does not change the fact that the king hates us. Nothing we do will change his mind. Even if we had raised his father, he would find another reason to hunt us down. All humans would, if given the chance . . .”

Evan takes his hand. Stephen smiles at them in thanks, but he can’t breathe. All he can think of is the towering figure of his abuser in the doorway, arm blocking his only exit, the demand to tell him what secret he’s been keeping. His gut churns with the memory of clothes tearing, being thrown to the ground, violated again and again until his memories fade into black. The worst part is not knowing whether it was that first violent act, or the dozens that followed in the next three days, that led to the birth of his child.

You lied to me! You bastard! I thought I could trust you, after everything, but it was all just a lie! Did you ever love me!

He had screamed himself hoarse saying he did, it hurt him so badly to lie, that he never wanted him to find out this way. Then the screams turned to pleas and desperate attempts to get free. At some point he stopped screaming. At some point it didn’t make sense to be loud, to keep pushing, to try and save himself. He just . . . gave up. 

Aaron looks around the circle. “This information is not to be spread to the trainees, do you understand? Mix and Helios, you two are in charge of enforcing the parameters of the city. Tabitha, I want you to take the older students to the fields and practice combat in the open. Yes, Angelica?”

“May I go with Tabitha?”

Aaron bites his upper lip, mustache covering his smile. “Of course, Angelica. You both are in charge of the training, then. Stephen, you and Evan will go over emergency drills with the younger students.”

“And if they ask questions?” Evan asks.

“Tell them we simply want to be prepared for anything that may happen. It’s important for them to be able to handle their powers in an emergency setting.”

Stephen nods. You’ll get to work with Leigh. That will be a nice distraction.

Aaron’s staff knocks against the ground again. “This concludes the meeting. Are there any questions?”

Mix rolls his eyes and signs something. Helios doesn’t say anything and Mix crosses his arms, staring at his husband until Helios sighs and says, “No, sir, you explained everything perfectly clearly and I will never have any questions ever.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Mix. I will remind you of that when lunchtime comes around.”

Mix laughs and waves to Helios. The two of them walk off, signing to each other far too fast for Stephen to understand. He catches enough to know that they are swearing, but that is all. 

Evan squeezes his hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

Stephen follows them to the other side of the facility. Instead of early morning silence the rooms echo with the sounds of hundreds of conversations. Parents talk to each other as they drop off their children and the kids shout out greetings to each other. Stephen relaxes at the cacophony of sounds. Familiar, safe, normal, as if there is nothing to worry about. As if everything has and will always be fine.

“Mr. Stephen!” Leigh waves at him from across the room. She runs from her grandmother’s side and to him, holding up her hands. “Look at what I learned to do!”

She twists her hand and light spills out, wrapping around her arm and forming in the shape of a snake. 

“Wonderful job,” Stephen says, kneeling down to be at her level. “When did you learn how to do that?”

“Last night. Yaya showed me.”

“I’m quite proud of you, Leigh. You’re catching on so quickly.”

Her beaming smile is worth it. She is one of his best students, learning far quicker than the others and not wanting to leave at the end of the day. Unlike the other students, who prefer to goof off during training, Leigh is focused, listening intently to everything he and Evan say. 

Evan already has the other kids corralled in their classroom. They stand in front of the room, talking with one of the other students when Stephen and Leigh walk in. They wave to Leigh and finish talking to the student. 

“Everything alright?” Stephen asks.

They nod. “Everything is fine. They just overexerted themself with homework last night. I said they don’t have to practice today since we’re doing drills.”

Stephen nods. The children settle down and he takes the lead in explaining the drill. None of them panic. They joke with each other as they barricade the windows and doors, twist light into small daggers, and move towards the back of the room. They’re too young to properly understand the danger. He prays to the gods that will remain the case. That they will never see true war. That the king will turn his attention back to the southern border and leave the Hexers alone. 

When the day is over, Leigh stays behind to talk with him and Evan. She asks over and over again about the use of light and how to shape it. Stephen shows her a few things, but his mind is wandering again. He is exhausted and terrified and there is a deep pit of sadness welling up inside that he can’t tamper down. Children’s laughter and the gossip of parents fill the space, but don’t touch the darkness inside him. 

“Stephen?” Evan asks, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I think the desk is positioned correctly.”

Stephen blinks, staring at the desk he has been adjusting for light knows how long. “Oh. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Leigh and I can finish with this. You need to go home.”

It’s far too easy to agree. Stephen waves to Leigh and says he’ll see her tomorrow before looking for Aaron. He is talking to a woman with the same curly hair, several children running around them. Stephen pauses, swallows hard, and turns away. Evan or Angelica can tell him that he’s left for the day. 

Once home, Stephen closes all the curtains. The darkness of the cottage does little to ease the throbbing pain in his temples. He lights the stove and sets the kettle on to boil, barely paying attention to his actions. Paint and wood go next to his chair, ready for a distraction, and he drops the light around him, his body returning to its natural shape. 

It’s too easy to curl up on the chair, cup of warm tea in hand, and stare into the darkness. His head pounds, but he can’t make himself stand up and open a window. It’s better like this. The darkness means he can’t be seen, he can’t be noticed, no one knows he exists. Safety. Something the children he loves and cares for will never have because he was an idiot. Because he trusted the wrong person. Because he thought he could handle far more than he should have taken on.

He tips his head back and sighs. 

I miss them. I really miss them. 

Another deep breath. Then another. Then another. Sip of tea. Burning against his throat, soothing his headache. Sweet honey coating his tongue. Another sip of tea. 

Eventually his headache eases. Eventually he can fully breathe. Eventually he sits up and grabs the wood, fingers wrapping around the familiar whittling tools. As night falls around him, Stephen carves three more lilacs out of the forgiving wood.

I’ll paint them in the morning. They have to be perfect. 

Unlike me

[passerinesoncaffeine]

I'm actually going to gnaw my own hand off.

[pavellan-hell]

I know the brainrot's bad when I'm actually considering writing fanfic

[mrprettywhenhecries]

just a ride [b.c] (1/2)

Benny Cross ✗ f!Reader

✝︎ w.c. 2.6k words ✝︎ tags/warning(s). no use of y/n, reader character uses she/her pronouns, reader leaves boyfriend for benny, minor depiction of violence, alcohol consumption & nicotine use; this part's pretty tame honestly, but there will be smut in the next part ;3 ✝︎ a/n. The Benny brain rot has had me in a vice grip and I needed to write something before I exploded. Admittedly this is somewhat similar to how he and Kathy met in the film, but with my own spin on it, and will be expanded on in the next part. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚

When your boyfriend brings you to an unfamiliar bar, the rough atmosphere and rowdy clientele are a little more than you bargained for, but when you lock eyes with the handsome biker across the room, your whole night's about to change.

“Where are we?” you asked as your boyfriend parked across the street from a seedy looking bar in a part of town you’d never been to before.  The otherwise empty street was lined with bikes and you turned to gape at your boyfriend.

“A biker bar?  Really?” you exclaimed, the idea almost comical.  “You wanna go to a biker bar?

Your boyfriend prickled at the insinuation behind your words.  “Yeah, so what if I do?  You don’t think I’m tough enough?” he questioned defensively and you just huffed a cynical laugh.

“Do you even know anyone that comes here?”

“Well, no, but–”

You crossed your arms and leaned back in your seat.  “This seems like a bad idea…”

“C’mon, if it gets too dodgy we’ll leave,” your boyfriend coaxed.  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Though you had your doubts, you didn’t argue further, stepping out of the car and crossing the street to the bar.  As soon as you stepped inside, you hesitated at the threshold, fighting to catch your breath against the assault to your senses–the sour stench of sweat and stale smoke instantly hitting you, burning your nostrils as you breathed it in.

Jostled by the crowd and press of bodies, you blindly followed your boyfriend in search of a free table, barely able to hear him over the blaring music and rowdy bikers yelling to be heard over the din.  Finding a lone empty table in the center of the room, your boyfriend claimed it, pulling out a chair for you and draping his coat over the one next to it.

“I’m gunna go get us some drinks, you stay here,” he said before taking off in the direction of the bar.

From your seat further away from the jukebox, it was a little more bearable and you could actually hear yourself think.  Letting your gaze roam the packed room, you noticed you were getting some curious glances from the bikers sitting nearby, but you found you weren’t the only woman there and that eased your nerves slightly. 

The sharp clack of pool balls connecting pulled your eyes to the pool table in the corner and your breath hitched as you spotted quite possibly the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life leaning over the table, pool cue in hand.  As he lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting yours, you could’ve sworn time slowed, and you wet your lips, your mouth suddenly dry.

Realizing you’d been staring a little too long, you quickly tore your gaze away, glancing back a moment later to find him still watching you curiously.

Pulse pounding in your ears, you watched him set his cue down and head toward you, a swaggering grace to his movements as he approached.  Pulling out the chair on your left, he spun it around and straddled it, leaning forward to wrap his bare arms around the chair back.

“I’m Benny,” he said, introducing himself, a bright grin spreading across his tanned face as he leaned closer, dirt smudged across his cheek and a smattering of light freckles adorning his nose.

“Never seen you around here before,” he observed, tilting his head slightly, waiting for you to respond.

His low raspy voice sent a shiver through you and you watched him for a moment, wetting your lips before giving your name in return and his grin widened.

“You here alone?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at you expectantly.

“I’m here with my boyfriend,” you explained, lifting your shoulder in a rueful shrug, a regretful tinge to your voice.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Benny echoed, wrinkling his nose at the news, though you knew he'd had to have seen you come in together.

“‘Fraid so,” you murmured, losing yourself for a moment in his pale blue eyes, a soulfulness to his unwavering stare that held your breath hostage.

“S’a real shame,” he drawled, his eyes flicking up to focus on something behind you, and before you could reply, your boyfriend claimed the chair on your other side, squaring off across the table from Benny.

“Back off, man, she’s spoken for,” he exclaimed, puffing his chest out in an attempt to look tougher, though beside Benny he just looked foolish.

Benny looked between the two of you, an amused grin playing at the corner of his lips, and he held his hands up harmlessly in surrender.

“Alright, I’ll go,” he said, a hint of laughter to his voice as he rose from the chair, giving you one last lingering look before heading back to his spot by the pool table, grabbing his abandoned beer bottle by the neck and bringing it to his lips.

“What’s his fuckin’ deal, huh?” your boyfriend huffed, setting your drink down in front of you, tearing your gaze from the roguish stranger.  “Fuckin’ vulture, thinks he can take what’s mine,” he grumbled, taking a long drink from his bottle.

At his words, your brows pinched.  

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to come here,” you reminded him, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a slow sip as your eyes once more flitted toward Benny, studying him over the rim of your glass.  There was something about him that pulled at you, like a moth to a flame, and there was a part of you that wanted to be pulled, to let that flame engulf you whole.

It barely registered that your boyfriend had responded.

“Hey, you listening to me?” he asked, snapping you from your thoughts and you made a noncommittal sound.

“I think I could do this—“

“Do what?” you asked distractedly and he frowned.

“Ride bike.  Y’know, join a club.  Maybe this club.”

At your derisive snort his frown deepened.  “What?” he demanded and you finally looked at him full on.

“You aren’t like these guys,” you said bluntly, tired of him trying to be someone he wasn’t.  “You just wanna look cool, you don’t love it like they do—riding,” you clarified.  “To them their colours are like a second skin, not just a costume you can put on when you feel like it.”

“Oh please, I’m sure most of these guys are just weekend warriors,” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes, letting your gaze wander once more, observing the other bikers that filled the hazy room, their raucous laughter and boisterous conversations filling your ears.

The longer you sat there, the more you felt eyes on you and you began to notice several of the bikers staring at you before quickly turning to talk furtively amongst themselves.  Unsure if you wanted to know what they were saying or not, you turned away and for a moment your eyes met those of the man sitting alone at the table across from you—he was older, his weathered face lined from life and hard work, and an air of authority radiated from him.

When he noticed you looking, he nodded to you and his full lips pulled into a smile, easing the hard cast of his countenance.

“I need some air,” you murmured, standing before your boyfriend could respond.

“Want me to order you another drink?” he grunted, taking another swig of his beer as you slipped your jacket around your shoulders.

“Nah, I’m good,” you mumbled, stepping away from the table.

As you passed, the older man caught your wrist, holding you in place and he peered up at you, an almost fatherly expression on his bluff face.

“You don’t need t’worry,” he drawled knowingly, his heavy midwestern accent coating his words while his deep set eyes flicked to his fellows and back to you.  “Nothin’s gunna happen to yeh,” he assured and you nodded slowly, unsure how to respond.  Once he released you, you headed for the door, keeping your eyes straight ahead.  Despite his words, you still couldn’t quite shake the wariness that had seeped into you.

Slipping outside, you reached in your pocket for your pack of cigarettes, tamping one out and perching it between your lips.  As soon as the door shut behind you, cutting the noise from inside and the cool night air enveloped you, you felt as though you could finally breathe again.

Leaning back against the rough brick wall behind you, you searched your pockets for your lighter, swearing under your breath when it eluded you.  Pulling the cigarette from your lips, a heavy sigh followed and you let your head fall back against the bar wall, your eyes turning skyward–the inky depths above obscured by the light of the neon sign that hung overhead.

You barely noticed the door swing open again until the crunch of boots on pavement stopped next to you and you felt a presence looming at your side.  Figuring it was just your boyfriend, you let your head roll toward him, only to find Benny standing there, tilting his head as he watched you.

“Need a light?” he asked, pulling a worn Zippo from his pocket and flipping it open with a practiced flick of the wrist to thumb the wheel, holding the flickering flame out for you to light your cigarette.

Feeling Benny’s intense gaze on you, you took a deep draw through the filter, watching the cherry burn brightly before leaning back, and Benny snapped the Zippo shut, exhausting the flame in one fluid motion while you let your hand drop, lazily blowing the stream of smoke away from him.

“Thanks,” you murmured, rolling the cigarette between your fingers as you lifted your eyes to his once more.

“S’nothin’,” he drawled softly, lips twitching upward.  With the lamp overhead casting a halo over his tousled dirty blond hair, he looked like some sort of fallen angel clad in leather and denim, his rough garb so at odds with the tender cast of his face.

After several long drags, the nicotine began to soothe your nerves and you offered Benny a puff, your arm brushing against his as he leaned against the wall next to you.

“So who’s that older guy who was sitting at the table next to mine, the one who stopped me on my way out?” you asked, glancing at Benny’s profile, your gaze lingering on his distractingly long lashes that brushed his cheek each time he blinked.

“That’s Johnny,” he grunted, smoke curling from his lips as he answered, handing you the half spent cigarette back to finish off.  “He’s president of the club,” he explained and you nodded.

Silence fell over the pair of you, but all the while you could feel Benny watching you, searching your face for something even he wasn’t sure he was looking for.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked suddenly, nodding toward his bike parked nearby and you followed his gaze, flicking a line of ash to the pavement.

“Sounds tempting,” you mused, taking one last drag before dropping the cigarette to crush under heel and pushing off the wall, dusting your hands off.  “But I’m here with my boyfriend, remember?”

“I remember,” Benny replied, huffing a soft laugh as he shook his head, his grin widening mischievously.  “It’s just a ride.”

“Uh huh,” you countered skeptically, though you couldn't help but match his smile, the excuses running through your head seeming flimsier the longer you held his gaze.

Before you could give a proper answer, the door swung open again and your boyfriend stepped out, his expression twisting when he caught sight of you and Benny together.

“I thought I told you to step off, man!  Think you can cut in on what’s mine?” he spat and you couldn’t help but gape at him, echoing his words incredulously.

“What’s yours?” 

“Will you just shut it and let me take care of this guy?"

Prickling with anger, you crossed your arms over your chest, your brows climbing as you shot him an indignant look and Benny’s grin melted from his face.

“Hey now.  Don’t talk to her like that,” he said, stepping up to him while subtly pushing you behind him and for a moment you saw fear flicker in your boyfriend’s eyes as he looked up at Benny, standing nearly a head taller than him.  Tamping his fear down, he wet his lips and opened his mouth.

“She’s my girl, and I can talk to her however the fuck I want.  This is none of your fuckin’ business, asshole.”

Benny shook his head ruefully, sucking his teeth.

“Seems like y’need someone to teach you some manners,” he drawled and you nearly laughed out loud at the thought of this brooding baby faced biker standing up for you against your own boyfriend–though if you were being honest, soon to be ex-boyfriend.

Just then the bar door opened and several of Benny’s fellow Vandals streamed out, forming a circle around the two men when they realized a fight was brewing, like sharks drawn to the scent of blood in the water.  Despite the growing crowd, your boyfriend’s bruised ego refused to let him step down and in a foolish bid to prove himself, he rushed forward, his brazen swing catching Benny square in the jaw.

Stumbling back, Benny let out a low grunt at the blow before straightening, shaking the punch off.

“That all you got?” he taunted, his deep drawl unphased.

Desperate to keep the upper hand, your boyfriend swung again wildly, but this time Benny was ready for it.  Ducking, he countered with a left hook, sending your boyfriend sprawling.  For one brief moment, you thought Benny wasn’t going to stop, even though your boyfriend was already down for the count, but as soon as he looked at you, the wild light faded from his eyes and he merely rolled his shoulders, working the tension free.

When he stepped up to his bike and threw a leg astride it, he glanced back at you over his shoulder, his unspoken question hanging in the air.

Giving your boyfriend one last disgusted look, you turned on your heel and climbed behind Benny, wrapping your arms around his waist as he lifted up momentarily to bring down his boot on the kick lever, putting his full weight into the jump and the bike roared to life beneath you, the vibrations spreading through your body like a wildfire.

Several Vandals whooped in excitement and you heard engines firing around you, but Benny had already pulled away from the curb and out into the street.  The stretch of road to the bridge ahead was deserted and the moon slipped out from behind the clouds to illuminate the way, shining off the damp pavement.

When you first hit the bridge, it was just you and Benny, and he threw his head back, letting out a howl that seemed to encompass everything you were feeling in that moment.  With the chill night wind whipping past you, stinging your cheeks and tugging at your clothes, it felt as though you were flying, Benny’s back pressed to your chest the only solid thing left in the world as everything else fell away.

You’d never felt so alive.

So free.

In that moment, you understood why the Vandals rode.

Overcome with an emotion you could only describe as childlike wonder, you swept your arms out wide, a wild crow of laughter bubbling up from the depths of your stomach just as the other bikers crested the hill to surround you and Benny, the roar of their engines nearly drowning out your cry.

Your rush of adrenaline waned, leaving you reeling and you quickly wrapped your arms tightly around Benny, pressing your cheek to his shoulder blade as his warmth seeped into you, and you knew you’d never be the same.

Part of you wondered if that had been Benny’s plan from the moment your eyes had met across the bar, but even if it had, you knew you couldn't hold it against him.

[ghostlywhiskey]

price x reader - loopholes

╰▸john price is an unfaithful husband, but he'll think of every excuse to lessen the severity of his acts.‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎

word count: 1,355 cw‎:‎ angst nsfw - cheating, brief dry humping, rough p in v with no protection

"john," the whine escaping your lips as your back slams against the door not long after it was slammed shut by price. the sound of the door had sent a smacking sound throughout the deserted hallway, but it wouldn't alarm anyone regardless. doors slamming in fits of anger wasn't anything new.

though, it wasn't anger that ran through price's veins. well, maybe slight anger, the frustration with you had been rising all day. and, in the midst of night was the only time he could let it all pour out of him.

"don't 'john' me." voice gruff, the familiarity of the tone causing your body to straighten out like a command was barked at you. it was never john when you two were alone together. too personal.

"yes, captain" your breath catching in your throat before his hand met your neck, the squeeze causing you to gasp for air as fingers pressed into your skin.

"care to explain your various attempts today that would have people question my character?" price growled as his lips grazed past your cheek, coming right next to your ear as his breathing cause shivers to run down your spine.

"no, captain." you stated, the back of your head resting against the door. brain warning you to correct your answer before the grip on your neck would tighten. "it was inappropriate and out of line."

"i'd say good girl, but you've been pretty fuckin' stupid today, yeah?" the hand on your neck releasing its grip as it drags down your chest to the hem of your shirt.

"stupid or strategic? got what i wanted, didn't i?" a satisfied hum pushed up your throat, your hands now in the clear to move as they pleased. hands that headed straight for the buckle of his belt.

a low chuckle exits his body, his own hands grabbing at your wrists as he walks his body back and guides yours to follow him. seating himself in the chair, without missing a beat you drop to your knees in front of him as he spreads his legs apart. forearms resting on his thighs as you give them a playful squeeze, looking up at him. fingertips brushing a piece of your hair back before his thumb glides across your lips.

"you're a brat," he mutters, your lips parting as you let his thumb push in as you secure your latch around it. slow and dragged out sucks building saliva around him, his blue eyes darkening as he watched you. after a few more moments, you pull back with a 'pop' sound at the release.

"you're no fun." you pout, hands moving back to his belt to work on removing it again before you were interrupted before.

"i'm married."

"hasn't stopped you before." it hadn't, you were right and he knew it.

his body lifted from the chair to tug his pants down, his hard on quickly met by his hand while you now raised to your feet. the focus now on your own attire as you worked to remove it.

the pants slid down your legs, but before you could have your panties join them on the floor around your ankles before you kicked them away, his free hand grabbing to stop you. your body guided once again to straddle his lap, his cock pressed against the already soaked fabric.

"just let me take them," your words cut off has his hands grab at your hips to move you against him, a soft 'oh' replacing anything you were going to say originally. he did it every time. he fought with himself in his head about what he was doing, finding every little thing he could do to make himself feel better.

"i don't have any condoms." he defended his actions of why he stopped you from removing them.

he did everything he could to make himself feel like he wasn't a complete shit husband cheating on his wife back home. a wife who had been with him since the start of his career.

having you dry hump against him, only letting you give him head or vice versa. wearing a condom and still pulling out when he would cum. all of these things made sense to him, made him feel like they were loop holes to the act of adultery.

but the feeling of his cold ring pressed against your skin caused your brain to fire out an idea. stilling your hips, you grabbed his left wrist and brought his palm up to your lips. kissing softly before lips pressed against his ring finger.

the action made your own stomach tie into knots, but it was an idea.

"doesn't count if the ring is off." your murmur against his hand, eyes watching him closely as you see his own brain register what you just said.

a loophole.

"so," eyes burning into yours as he watched your lips kiss the ring, a ring that didn't promise himself to you. "take it off for me." if he took it off, he's accountable.

nodding, lips made their wait to the top of his ring finger before you took it in your mouth, tongue swirling around to let the saliva build around the ring. your teeth at the base of the ring tugging at it to drag it up his finger until it was off, secured between your teeth. your fingers reaching to take it from your mouth and setting it down on the desk behind you.

"fuckin' 'ell," price groans, reaching for your face to look at him and pulling you down to his lips. his own teeth tugging at your bottom lip and lips pressed against yours while your hands grab at his neck. "lift up for me."

your body raising off his slightly before you feel fingers drag from back to front against your folds, knees nearly buckling. his fingers tugging the panties to the side as he guides you back down. his cock met with your already dripping cunt as you press down, nails digging into his shoulders.

"fuck." the two of you moan in unison, however, you drag out the 'uck' of the word.

"always take me so fuckin' well," price mutters mainly to himself, your hips finding a rhythm as his hands grip at your waist again. "so tight," he huffs out as you press back down on him, his hands holding you down for brief moment to feel you pulsate around him. "so fuckin' warm and wet too."

a string of moans muffled into the side of his neck as you bury your head into the crook, pressure released as he lets you resume your pace. "captain," the whine causing him to shush you, one hand coming to your neck as he holds you against him.

"don't be makin' too much noise," he warns, but its a useless warning as the sound of skin smacking against each other echoes through the room. if anyone were to pass by they could easily pick up on the sounds behind the door.

your walls clench around him every time you come back down, trying to latch around him, the feeling of him in you without a condom is addicting.

and his body reacting the same way as his grunts fill your ears, hands gripping onto you so tight that you'd figure there would be marks to show for it the next morning. he guides your body up and down to match up with his words, "fuckin. dirty. girl."

you wince at the final word as he holds you down. thick cum filling you quickly before your own thighs shaking, release around him as your arms wrap around his neck to hold him close.

both of your breaths heavy as try to come down from the high. after a few moments, the two of you pulling apart from each other, focused on cleaning and redressing yourselves. as you tug on your pants, your eyes catching price who is dressed again as if nothing happened, staring at the ring on his desk.

the hesitation is brief, but still noticeable before he grabs it, slipping it back onto his finger.

if @bbbby-blu didn't decide to send me a damn picture, we would have not been here today combating the writing slump. all credit to blu for the "take it off for me" - we thank you for your service <3

[jellyclogs]

One piece characters reacting to you calling them Darling

characters: Kid ,Ace, Mihawk, Shanks ,Katakuri

y/n has she/her pronouns

Tigger warning: Some cussing

Kid

"Hello Darling," you purred walking into his workshop. You put on a sweet smile. If this ended poorly killer would owe you an arm and a leg.(hopefully not literally)

Kid froze, setting down the project he'd been working on before looking at you. He looked incredulous studying you. His cheeks flushed softly, " Don't" He growled. His yellow eyes were sharp.

"Don't what darling?" You hummed tilting your head. You were doing your best to project nothing but pure Innocence. This bet could go poorly with your captain's temper. Killer had bet you a pretty penny that you couldn't get Kid to submit to you calling him darling.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Kid huffed not looking at you his hands fiddling with whatever project he was working on. His cheeks were visibly red. No one in their right mind would believe you if you told them just how easily flustered the gruff man was.

“Of course not,” you hummed stepping up behind him and gently beginning to rub his shoulders, “I wouldn't dream of it.” you smiled feeling his trying not to relax at your touch.

“What do you want?” he growled aimlessly fidgeting with a screw, you sure were laying it on thick.

“I just wanted to check in on you, you been in here all day and I wanted to see if you had eaten. You know skipping meals isn't healthy darling.” you purred directly into his ear, this would either break him or make him break you.

Kid whirled around in his seat pulling you down to eye level, “What is with this darling shit?” your stomach was fluttery seeing his red cheeks.

You gave a frown, “Do you not like it?” you did your best to look like a kicked puppy… you were really good at that.

“I- Well.” he fumbled his words before crossing his arms, “If you call me that when any ones around you'll be swimming to the next island.” you could see the gears in his flustered mind turning.

You smocked kissing the tip of his nose, “Ofcores Darling.” you slipped from his grasp and made your way back to the entrance of his work shop before turning and looking over your shoulder, “You really should go get something to eat.” you chimed leaving him to his work. You had a nice little bounty to go collect from Killer.

Ace

“Darling you smoldering,” you whined trying to pry yourself from the pyromaniac’s vice of a hug. You know he was about as drunk as he could get which meant big words were your best weapon. If you said something he didn't understand his brain would work overtime and his grip on you would no longer be squishing your organs.

His body went stiff for a moment before he melted again looking up two you from between your breasts, “So I'm your darling?” he giggled. Before baring his face back in your chest and repeating, “I'm your darling.” into you.

You whine again, he clung to the wrong word, you bit your lip before trying again, “Ace you are sweltering. If you keep clinging to me like this I will melt.”

“You can't melt,” he snuggled in closer, “You're not made of wax.”

An idea sparked in your mind one that might just free you, “Ace you’re, not my darling, Marco is but if you beat him in a fight you can be my darling.”

Ace instantly let you go looking into your eyes before fully standing up, “I'm gonna beat up that dumb pineapple.” and then he was gone.

“What did marco do?” one of your crew mates asked smiling down at you.

“He told a drunken ace that i needed to be protected,” you smirked up your crew mate, “Aka he is the intier reason i had that flame brain smothering me.” you huffed.

The man lagged pating your head, “well get the hell out of doge befor ace finds him.”

“I’I’ sir,” you gigel giving the man a salute and  standing up. Now you could finally begin the walk to your bunk, and finally you could go to bed.

Mihawk 

“Hello darling,” you gave the swordsmen the most innocent smile you could muster.

Mihawk’s golden eyes shot up from the paper in his hands the look on his face anything but pleasant, “What did you do?” he groaned, his eyes piercing through you.

Yep, you had a filing this is how it would go, “I didn't do anything.” you tried.

He rolled his eyes taking a sip of his whine, “is this the kind of I didn't do anything, where you have managed two die all my shirts pink or the kind where you have managed to accidentally tame the humandrils …again.” his pricing glare was not letting up.

“I didn't know Parona had thrown in one of her red dresses and all I did was show the humandrils some human decency, either way, I didn't do anything,” you repeated putting stress on the I.

His eyes glazed over as he understood the situation, “Are you going to tell me what the two of them got up to?” he mused, swirling the wine in his glass.

“Now what fun would that be?” you giggled coming to stand next to him, “plus id much rather watch the two of them try to explain it by themselves.” 

Mihawk shifted his newspaper and patted his lap. “Did you try to talk them out of this?” he sighed in defeat.

“Of course I did,” you hummed slipping into the man's lap.

“Of course you did,” he groaned leaning his head back clearly regretting adopting the feral children that washed up on his island.

“Just be prepared to watch the world burn my darling.”

Shanks

“Say it again,” he hummed with a goofy smile, on arm wrapped around your waist as you cooked.

“It was supposed to be condescending.” you hissed as you stirred the boiling pasta. You told lucky rue he could have a break from cooking tonight. Your main goal, trying to get away from your captain. It did not work.

“But it’s so nice hearing it from you.” he nuzzled into your neck, his stubble scratching you softly, “Say it again,” purred.

“No.” it took all you had not to stomp your foot.

“Come on aren’t I, your Darling?” he chucked into your neck.

“IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE CONDESCENDING!” you yelled.

“Aw are you too flustered to admit it now?” he teased.

“You are not my darling I was being condescended!” you tried in vain to get your captain to let go. You had dug your own grave and he would make sure to bury you deep in it.

“Oh no you can't take it back.” he squeezed you gently.

“Shanks I will start kicking.” you decided fuck it if words don't work violence.

“Just say it one more time and ill leave you alone.” he kissed your neck.

You sighed before giving in, “Darling if you don't leave me alone after this i will feed everyone but you.”

“Your so mean,” he laughed letting go of you and snatching up a bottle of sake on his way out of the kitchen.

Katakuri

“Darling would you please put me down,” you mused softly from your seat on his shoulder. He had been keeping you there your entire trip to the market.

“You know using pet names won't get me wrapped around your cute little finger.” Katakuri smiled, looking over the goods for sale, " plus you'll be lost in this crowd and I don't need to lose my little wife."

"But darling i want to look around and do a little shopping myself " you whined gently patting his cheek.

“What do you want? A dress some sweets?” he picked up an appel studying it.

“Its a farmers market, i wanna look at all the pretty jewlery and art.” you begged. It was always fun to look around and see what people could make.

“Fine, ill set you down.” katakuri smiled planting a kiss on your cheek, “Meet me at the fountain in 30 minutes.”

“Ok i will darling.” you kissed his cheek than slipped off his shoulders to go wander.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 10

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Happy Christmas Eve.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

A mess of wrapping paper and gift bags litter the floor around you. Their contents are just as neglectfully strewn across the room, forgotten for the desecration bartered with their giving. Reality blurs between the three men as you’re passed between them, bent, contorted, twisted exactly how they want you.

Your thighs quiver as you’re left to fall onto your ass, heaving as you lean against the end of the section. Fuzzy-brained and bleary-eyed you watch a dark figure bend and the crinkle of paper triggers something in you. The urge to flee courses up from your stomach though you don’t have the strength to heed it.

“Mine,” Andy declares and drops a box beside your foot. You blink and don’t move.

“What the hell, dude? You’re up our asses about rules–” Lloyd challenges.

“Stop whining,” Andy growls back.

You shudder as you remain paralysed in the fog. The box hits your leg as it’s kicked towards you. You reach shakily, not sitting forward, and drag it into your lap. Your hands work without seeing. You pull free a thick ribbon and flick the lid off with your thumb. You feel the soft fabric inside, cashmere maybe? You wouldn’t know.

“Come on, honey,” Andy has you by the arm in an instant.

As he hauls you to your feet, the box and sweater falling forgotten from your lap, he stops. You’re caught in the vice of his grip as his arm stretches past another figure standing almost between you. Andy squeezes harder as he flinches, Lloyd jabbing a finger in his chest. You blink as you struggle to process the scene.

“If all rules are off, then you better not say fucking shit,” Lloyd snarls.

Andy shoves him away, ignoring him as he guides you back until your legs touch the sectional. You have only the gold medallion necklace and stockings left on you. The socks have rumpled below your knees unevenly as the gold charm sticks to your sweaty flesh.  

He eases you down onto your back and you sigh as your body relaxes instinctively. You’re not thinking straight. You’re clinging to the hope that this is over, or close too. You can’t take much more. They can’t do this all day.

Andy pulls off his sweater as he puffs. His exasperation tinges the air thickly. The other men loom behind him grumbling.

You wince as Andy pushes your knees wide. You try to close them but he plants one of his own between them. You whimper as your swollen cunt throbs. 

“Please,” you beg weakly, reaching to cover your pelvis.

“It’s okay, honey,” Andy sets a hand next to your head to hold himself over you, “we’re getting to the good part.”

“Fucking lame…” Ransom mutters.

You wriggle and put your other hand on Andy’s chest, “please,” you repeat.

“Shh, honey, I’m gonna be good to you,” he feels along your thigh and your insides clench. It’s not over.

You could sob as he touches your folds. You’re overwrought to the point of delirium. He slides between your lips, still slick from your last falling apart. He rubs your clit until you squeak, taking it as an invitation to do more. He dips his fingers into you and back out, repeating the act as your walls squeeze him each time.

He hushes you again as you babble. He pulls his thick fingers out and spreads your cunt wide. He shifts, jarring his hips around as he drops to an elbow. How breath scalds down your face and neck as he puffs through his nose.

He pokes his tip between his knuckles, grunting as he tilts his hips. It’s then you realise what he means to do. He stretches you around his head and you whine as you sink your nails into the furry muscles along his chest. You press your other hand to his hip, repeating again your pathetic plea.

“Always taking his fucking time,” Lloyd hisses, “gonna be all day before he gets his balls wet.”

“Is that good, honey?” Andy pets your forehead as he inches into you. 

You bed your legs and squeak. You can barely breathe as you strain to take him in. Your already tender cunt thrums around his intrusion. His small rocking motion jostles you as he tries to ease deeper and deeper. He stops halfway as you cry out, the resistance of your body trapping him.

“Just relax,” he coos as he frames your face, kissing your forehead, “relax,” he coaxes, hips still in rhythm as he battles past the barrier, “honey, I’m being… nice.”

He grunts and snaps his hips, breaking past your last defenses. You wail as you push on his pelvis, still trying to stop him. Your hand trails over to his stomach, slightly soft and as thick as the rest of him. There’s an extra layer of fat there unlike the other men and their firm abs.

“I’m fucking bored,” Lloyd growls but you can’t track his movement as Andy blocks out the room with his body.

You grit your teeth as he reaches his limit, well past your own. You arch your back and feet as you bring both your hands to his shoulders. Your eyes wet and roll back as you garble senselessly. You want him to stop. He said he wouldn’t let them hurt you but here he is, hurting you himself.

Andy’s arm slips under your neck, propping your head up as he covers your mouth with his own. That kiss disgusts you. A manufactured gesture of affection all while he violates you. You want to bite him and spit in his face. You don’t have the energy, you just let it happen. You let his tongue slip inside, you let him split you in two.

There’s another crumple of paper. You don’t react. You’re limp, nearly lifeless beneath Andy as he fucks you with long strokes. Your eyes slit just enough to see as something lands beside you on the couch. Another torn remnant of wrapping paper.

“What do you know?” Lloyd clucks, “it’s one of mine.”

There’s a slap of flesh that has Andy ramming harder into you as he parts from your mouth and grunts.

“Come on, big boy, turn her over.”

“Fuck off,” Andy sneers.

“This isn’t the deal. Turn her over,” Lloyd insists, “it’s two against one if you wanna fuck around and find out.”

Ransom shadow lurks closer as your eyes drift. Andy sighs and curls his arm tighter around your neck while hooking the other around your waist. He sinks down into you and turns you over with him, bringing himself under you. The hard zipper of his open fly bites into you.

You lay bent over him, your head lolling over his shoulder as you shiver with the new flow of cool air across your back. There’s the crinkle of plastic behind you. You don’t care. It can’t be worse if you don’t know what’s going on.

Andy frames your hip and keeps you moving on him. Your legs are weak and jittery as you straddle him. His other hand comes to your chin and he lifts your head, holding you above him as he once more draws you into a desperate kiss. A kiss laced in denial and delusion.

There’s a pinch on your ass and you squeal into Andy’s mouth. The sharp tweak is followed by a jarring slap across the flesh. Lloyd snickers and a cold liquid oozes between your cheeks. You clench at the slimy liquid leaking around your puckered hole.

“I got the flavoured stuff, pussy cat,” he clicks a cap as your ears prick, your eyes searching side to side.

Lloyd’s fingers slip between your cheeks and he circles around your hole. You whimper but Andy keeps you locked in, hand curling around your hip as his other stretches across your throat. The tickle against your tight ring turns to a stinging burn as a thick finger pushes inside, wiggling as it tests your resistance.

You nearly bite Andy as your eyes well. He pushes you away from his mouth as you heave and struggle to bear through the fiery pain radiating from your ass. Lloyd pushes to his first knuckle, then his second, and finally the last. You eke out tiny noises as you struggle to catch your breath.

Andy hushes as he rocks from below, still fucking you, still using you despite this new trespass. You dig your nails into his chest, arms trapped between your bodies, and quiver.

“H-urts,” you babble, “please…”

“Shhh, you’ll be okay,” Andy rasps.

Lloyd snickers as he pulls his finger out and lines up a second. You squeeze your eyes shut and tense as he forces in two that time. He’s less patient as he bulldozes inside, wiggling his fingers inside you once more. He thrusts in and out, the flames licking hotter and hotter.

He pulls his fingers all the way out and licks you instead. The sensation is almost soothing as he laps at your hole. He greedily swirls his tongue, pausing to poke his fingers in a few times, then resumes his loud, gross licking. 

The razing sensation of Lloyd’s tending mingles with the pressure of Andy inside you. Your walls twitch as you feel the coil winding tight. No, it shouldn’t feel good. Stop, please stop. 

Lloyd buries his fingers, keeping them deep, tilting his hand against you as he curls his knuckles. You can feel it in your cunt along with Andy’s steady motion. You bubble over and whine as you cum, both holes spasming as you succumb to the wave of rolling pleasure.

Andy growls as Lloyd snickers and slides his fingers free. You sense a shift behind you but the grip on your neck keeps you from looking. 

“Go for it,” Lloyd chuckles, “loosened her up nice and good for you.”

Another drizzle of cold lube drips down to your now burning hole. You flinch as two hands spread over your cheeks and pull them wide. Ransom pushes your ass together before smacking it. The impact scours your flesh.

He hums and slides his dick between your cheeks. His rigid length glides between the oily flesh as he leans over you, one hand on the armrest to keep himself on his feet. He rocks as he slickens his dick from tip to base before lining up with your hole.

He pushes the head of his dick against you, grunting as he leans his weight into you. You let out a shrill cry as he forces his way inside. Even just his tip is enough to break you. Tears spring free and stream down your cheeks.

He jerks his hips, ramming deeper than you’re ready for. You wail and grasp Andy’s wrist as he nearly chokes your voice out of you. Your eyes meet his, blurry with your agony, but you see the glint in his irises. That tic in his cheek. He’s lost in what he wants. You see him clearly. Selfish, a liar.

Ransom puts his knee on the end of the section as he thrusts again, deeper and deeper. As he does, Andy moves you between them in tandem. The crush of them around you is suffocating. The air is sticky and roiling around you. 

Your heart hammers as terror takes over. There is no pleasure to be found anymore. Your chest feels ready to burst as you pant through your constricted throat. Your head pounds as you hyperventilate through your nostrils.

Your hand is pulled away from Andy’s shoulder. Your fingers are once more closed around a rigid length, held closed by another to pump up and down. Your eyes flutter and flip back into your head. Your ears buzz and your body grows heavy. You feel yourself fading as you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

Ransom ruts harder from behind, jolting you into Andy. The fullness is painful and all-consuming. They work together, torturing your insides as one slides in only for the other to slide in. You are overflowing and overstimulated.

Your arm shakes and aches as Lloyd keeps it moving. He groans as he steps closer, his shadow cast over you. He grabs your chin to turn your hand above Andy’s knuckles. He groans as he keeps your hand moving around him. He grunts and aims his tip down, spurting all down your face, from your forehead, down the bridge of your nose, to your chin.

He drags his throbbing head through the glaze of his cum. He smears it all around and pushes his tip against your lips. He snickers meanly as he pushes between your lips. You taste the salty repugnance and nearly gag. You’re too tired, too weak to be disgusted. 

He fucks your mouth casually as Andy keeps you in place for him. He relents only as you feel him starting to go soft. He slides out and steps back, letting out an emphatic sigh of satisfaction. He taps your cheek with a cluck.

“Look at the little pussy cat,” he mocks. “Not so fucking smiley now.”

You blink and your head falls over Andy’s grip. Then the rest of you slackens. You’re a doll, lifeless between the men, a thing to be played with. You welcome your descent into the abyss, your only escape from this hell.

[juneyjubilation]

First of all, hello!! I hope you have/ had a great day, I wanted to make a request about Dick Grayson, we all know he's just a ball of sunshine but what about we (As another vigilante who's close to him+ he has a crush on -you can keep the details short or as long as you want-) finding him at his lowest? But like... Really really lowest... In the point where he feels like a disappointment to his parents to bruce himself, to Alfred or basically to everyone who knows him, the point where he thinks he's letting everyone down... The point where he's about to cry and have a panic attack (inside out 2..) and we find him, (let's just say that reader knows him well enough to be able to say somethings are off with him..) try and do everything we can to comfort and console him because... My man really deserves true affection and reminder that he has amazing affect on people around him... (The trigger to his break down could be him, not being able to save a child as he tried to save 5 other people in danger etc. whatever you want, I hope I'm not making any mistakes on writing because English is not my native language and I'd literally sit down and cry if I didn't express myself successfully ;( also could you please make it AFAB?) Thank you so much for everything in advance..

Feel free to ingore this request, but if you won't do it please inform me I won't be hurt 🙏🏻💝

hi! thank you so much for the request :) i absolutely did not mind writing this, though i fear i did mistakenly add more trauma to the golden boy - so ummmm... my bad!

and your english was good at conveying your point! i hope i was able to translate this to paper well :)

also i listened to Birds of a Feather on repeat whilst writing this! enjoy!

details: no use of y/n/(reader), dick calls the reader 'Angel', she/her user, this could be seen as platonic, but he is evidently pining in his thoughts.

content warnings: mentions and brief description of child death, flashbacks to parental death, minor character death (of the unnamed child), panic attacks.

- thank you for reading!! continue to under cut to read -

The haunting memory of the child he had failed, the one he couldn't save, grips him in a vice-like chokehold. It's a branding iron seared into his very soul, a constant reminder of his inadequacy—a festering, gnawing wound that threatens to consume him whole. He clutches his throbbing temple, his mind replaying the horrifying moments when the child, caught in the crossfire, fell to their inevitable fate.

For a single moment the image of that little girl in her yellow sweater returned him to the memory he ran from most; the image of his parents and their once striking yellow and green costumes danced in red.

Contorted bones and brain matter tended to have that effect on him.

Each labored, panicked breath he exhales is a testament to the tumultuous turmoil within him. Sweat trickles down his temples, mingling with the darkness of his hair as tears threaten to spill down his cheeks, unchecked by the demons gnawing at his soul.

His body trembles, the sudden vulnerability an unfamiliar and unwelcome companion. His once steady hands now shake as he struggles to compose himself, to regain control of the emotional maelstrom that threatens to consume him.

The cool Gotham breeze offers no solace, the whispering wind carrying the echoes of the child's cries and the deafening silence that followed.

In a tortured whisper, Nightwing tries coaxing calm into his body. "Breathe... in... hold... out..." His words echo faintly in the wind, a desperate attempt to wrestle back control.

Each labored breath becomes a tiny beacon of light, guiding him through the storm of self-doubt and guilt. He imagines the air filling his lungs like a warm, golden light, chasing away the shadows of despair.

One hand reaches up, fingers brushing against the emblem that adorns his chest, a symbol of his past and his future, a reminder of the strength he has wielded time and time again.

The other hand forms a fist, his knuckles turning white, as he clings to the memory of the five children he saved, the lives he changed. His heartbeat slows, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, as the grounding exercise takes root.

The tenuous grip on his grounding fades like a fading signal, replaced by the raw, unadulterated pain of his failure. He collapses in on himself, sobbing, rage and despair mingling in his anguished cries.

In his mind's eye, the image of the little girl materializes once more, a beacon of hope snuffed out, the same way his own youth was extinguished. The memory of his mother, her laughter and love, dance just beyond his reach. The parallels between the two haunt him, a relentless tormentor.

Tears stream down his cheeks, the salty droplets stinging the wounds of his soul. His shoulders quake under the weight of the burden he bears, the crushing guilt of that lost life threatening to drown him.

In the midst of Nightwing's torment, a shadow falls over him, a gentle presence signaling the arrival of a familiar figure. A figure he has deemed his *Angel*.

She lands gracefully beside him, a figure shrouded in mystery. Yet, for him, she embodies strength, solace, and warmth. Her aura fills the space around him, tickles at his senses in a way that's instantly recognizable, even in the darkness of Gotham's smog.

A gentle hand brushes through his hair, her touch a caress, tender and caring. "There you are," her voice a soothing balm to his raw emotions. He feels her presence, the mere nearness offering a sliver of comfort to his broken spirit.

In the shadows, his solace crouches beside her friend, sensing the turmoil that wracks his body.

Nightwing's initial instinct kicks in, a mixture of surprise and panic as he realizes he's been discovered in his most vulnerable state. The superheroic facade he presents to the world is shattered, exposing the raw, bleeding core of his humanity.

The very thought of burdening her with his failures and shortcomings weighs heavily on him. He's always been the one to save, to lead, to console. The thought of being the one needing rescue is an eerie and unsettling prospect.

Nightwing opens his mouth to protest, to push her away, to defend his honor, but the words stick in his throat. He can't bear to witness the disappointment in her eyes, or the pity that would surely follow.

Instead, he utters the word that's reserved for her alone. "Angel..." The plea is a confession without words, an admission of the depth of his trust in her.

Instead of pulling away, she scoots closer, wrapping her arms around him, a shield against the unyielding darkness that threatens to swallow him whole. Her presence is a beacon of hope, offering a safe haven in the storm that refused to wane.

Angel shakes her head gently, her eyes filled with an understanding that transcends words. Her lips move in a soft, almost imperceptible whisper, weaving a tapestry of comfort through her words.

"Grief, it's a beast, twisting in your gut, aching in places you never thought possible. It's a reminder of the things you can't change, the memories that haunt, the life that slips through the cracks."

Her voice is a lullaby, a rhythmic pattern that guides him through the tempest of emotions. She speaks with the ruggedness of a street-hardened hero and the tenderness of a loving friend.

"But we don't drown in it. We don't let it define us. We let the tears fall, the chest heave, and then we find the strength buried beneath the pain to carry on."

Nightwing listens to her soft words, the wisdom in her voice like a balm to his raw emotions. His thoughts drift back to the time they first met, the war-torn streets of Gotham, a city on the brink of ruin.

He remembers the first time he saw her, the way she moved through the chaos with an almost ethereal grace. She was a beacon of hope in the midst of despair, her emerald eyes sparkling like jewels, piercing the darkness.

In that moment, he knew he would follow her, that she would be his shining star. And so, he called her Angel—not because she resembled the celestial beings but because she represented the light that guided him through life's shadows.

He would never share this with her, this intimate connection that bound them together, a secret that only he held tight to his chest. For in this moment, he realized that Angel's words weren't a fix-all, a panacea to mend all his wounds. They didn't erase the knot in his throat, the heaviness in his heart. But they did something equally profound; they eased the suffocating weight of isolation.

For the first time, he realized he didn't have to face this alone. That he had been surrounded by a network of support, of friends and allies who shared his purpose.

In her arms, he felt anchored, tethered to reality, to the world he fought so tirelessly to protect. A world that was no longer a shadowy, menacing abyss but a place of hope, of potential, of redemption.

And as his sobs subside, leaving behind a silent contemplation, he knows that there will be other battles, other moments of weakness, but he wouldn't face them alone.

In the company of Angel, the moniker 'Nightwing' did not feel like a suffocating mantle that weighed heavily upon Dick's shoulders. Instead, it became a symbol of the partnership they shared, a badge of honor that spoke volumes about their bond.

Angel, with her unwavering support, reminded Dick of the reasons he chose this path in the first place—a desire to protect, to heal, and to stand for justice. Her faith in him, her belief in his abilities, and her unwavering trust in their combined might, breathed new life into the persona he had donned.

Nightwing, the man and the symbol, no longer felt like a burden, but rather the manifestation of his resolve, a testament to his strength, and a beautifully complex reflection of his vulnerabilities. In the presence of Angel, he could be both a hero Gotham needed and the person he needed to be in order to heal from his past.

In the silence that follows, Dick finds himself looking into the eyes of the woman who had become an indispensable part of his life. A man of few words when it came to expressing his gratitude, he finds solace in the simplest of gestures.

He wraps his arm around her, pulling her close, his strong frame enveloping her as he basks in the comfort of her presence. His jaw clenches, the tension a testament to the weight of his emotions. Eventually, he finds the courage to express his gratitude.

"Thank you, Angel." The words are a whisper, sincere and heartfelt. He holds her tighter, as if to etch this moment in his memory, a beacon of warmth in the cold, unforgiving city that they call home.

In that moment, he doesn't need grand speeches or declarations of love, but the simple act of being in her presence. Their bond, forged in the fires of conflict and the camaraderie of friendship, is a testament to the depth of their connection.

He knew he could depend on her, in the darkest hours and brightest victories. She was the calm in the eye of his storm, the beacon of hope that flickered in the shadows.

Together, they stood as guardians of the city, protectors of the innocent, and confidants to one another. Dick Grayson, the young circus performer, and the vigilante known as Nightwing, had found in Angel a companion for life, a partner in crimefighting, and a friend he cherished more than gold.

As they sat on the rooftop, the weight of the world momentarily lifted, Dick knew that he owed her more than he could ever repay. But the debt, he realized, was one he would gladly continue to work off, through every mission, every battle, and every victorious smile they shared. Because in her, he had found not just a comrade but a partner of the heart. And his gratitude, as always, was simple and true: Thank you, Angel.

[ignoretheaceinthecorner]

The fish man has my brain in a vice grip

Rambles under cut lol

I never thought I'd get so attached to a roblox game in my life, it's literally the only one I play

I AM AFRAID OF THE OCEAN AND SEA MONSTERS AND I DOWNLOADED THE SEA MONSTERS TRY TO KILL YOU UNDERWATER GAME

It doesn't scare me anymore (the game, the ocean definitely still scares me) but for a while I would need someone even to just be in a call bc I'm a lil baby.

My favorite designs/characters are Seb, Eyefestation, and the Void Lockers! Might draw them too if I feel up to it

Very fun though, if you've been thinking about playing, this is your sign. Play the fish game. Get shot by Sebastian after trudging through 50 doors bc you wanted to annoy him, it's fun! They give you an achievement. He makes fun of you when you die, the spite drives you onwards!

This might out my tumblr since I've posted this elsewhere too lol

[fungifanart]

Like a bundle of grapes

Characters: Yuu (GN), Ace, Deuce, Grim, Azul, Jade, Floyd

CW: Cartoon violence, crack

Word count: 964

Notes: Wrote this for @twst-charity and their charity drive to send aid to Palestine! Go check out the other works done for it and feel free to donate, if you can! We have SO many talented artists and writers involved!

-------------------------------------------------------

Yuu is going to MURDER that octopus.

Actually, no. Death is too good for him.

Yuu is going to cut off his tentacles, make them into takoyaki and then feed it to him.

There, that's better. 

Now that they have a plan of attack, Yuu quickens their pace as they march angrily towards the Mostro Lounge to go collect their three anemone-headed idiots.

What else was Yuu gonna do when the man running the Mostro Lounge just casually ruined what was SUPPOSED to be a nice hangout between them, Ace, Deuce and Grim?

Yuu slams their foot into the front door, forcing it open with a loud bang that causes a wave of silence to wash over the lounge's patrons as they look at them in shock, their three idiots included.

"AZUL ASHENGROTTO!!!" Yuu's enraged voice echoes throughout the lounge, prompting the sound of footsteps coming from the back hallway a minute later.

"Well, well! I was wondering who could possibly have the GALL to walk in and disrupt my business and then I find out that it's our darling Prefect!" The man in question says calmly as he rounds the corner into the main dining room, "To what do I owe the pleasure of you gracing my establishment with your ever calming presence?"

Yuu's eye twitches as they close the distance between themself and him, "Cut the crap, Ashengrotto. You know exactly why I'm here." They say as they stop in front of him and cross their arms impatiently.

"Oh dear, I'm afraid I really don't! I can tell that you're quite upset with me, but would you be so kind as to clarify why?" Azul says after throwing his hands up dramatically.

"Tch, alright fine. You suckered Ace, Deuce and Grim into another contract and screwed them over with the fine print! I thought you said you were gonna be nicer from now on!" Yuu says while pushing their finger against the man's chest accusingly.

Azul waves Yuu's hand away dismissively before responding, "Surely this isn't what you came all the way here for? Surely you realize that you should be angry at those three for not reading the fine print rather than at me?"

"Dissolve the contracts." Yuu says, not yielding even an inch.

"Oh? And why would I do that? The only ones who violated the terms of the contracts are the ones that signed them, so I'm not the one at fault here. And need I remind you that YOU decided to enter MY establishment and disrupt MY business? I could have Jade and Floyd kick you out for that alone, you know." Azul says condescendingly as the two eels in question slowly close in on either side of Yuu, most likely waiting for a signal from him.

"Oh please, we both know those two would happily let me beat you up if I made it funny." They say while rolling their eyes.

"My, how confident we are today! And how do you suppose you could do that?" The octopus says arrogantly.

"Like THIS!!!" Yuu responds before dashing behind Azul faster than he can react, wrapping their arms around his waist in a vice-like grip and arcing their back fully backwards, taking him with them as he lets out a shrill scream before colliding with the hard floor.

A beat of pin-drop silence passes as everyone's brains collectively catch up with what Yuu has done.

The silence is then broken by Floyd bursting out into howling laughter, accompanied by Jade struggling to keep his composure with his hand clamped over his mouth.

With Azul out cold and the eels successfully incapacitated, Yuu quickly rifles through the octopus's jacket pockets and pulls out Ace, Deuce and Grim's contracts before grabbing their owners by the anemones and dragging them out of the Mostro Lounge, still dazed by Yuu's actions.

Upon reaching a safe distance from the establishment, Yuu rips all three contracts to shreds, releasing their friends from the anemones and Azul's grasp.

Feeling the empty space on their heads, the three's brains finally catch up as they cheer in excitement and move to pull Yuu into a group hug, only for Yuu to dodge and instead deliver a tight and painful pinch to each of their cheeks.

“Owowowow! What gives?!” Ace asks while rubbing his cheek.

“Have you three learned nothing from the last time Azul pulled something like this?” Yuu asks with their hands on their hips like a scolding parent.

“L-look, we're sorry, it's just–” Grim tries to respond, but Yuu's frustrated voice cuts him off.

“Just what? What could be so important that you'd put yourselves at risk like that?” Yuu questions harshly, losing whatever patience they have by the second.

“Sam's shop just got a shipment of fresh watermelons, so…” Ace trails off while twiddling his thumbs.

“We wanted to get some for our hangout today, but we were short on cash, so we signed on to do some quick odd jobs for Azul, but…well…you know the rest.” Deuce explains as all three of them look at the ground.

Yuu's mouth hangs agape for a few seconds before guilt overtakes them and they wrap the other three in a tight hug, “Oh, you guys! I'm sorry for getting so angry!! I'd love to have watermelon with you!!!” They say while shaking them around.

Yuu only lets go upon hearing the door to the Mostro Lounge burst open to the sound of their favorite octopus screaming bloody murder at them and two eels that are still struggling to contain their laughter as they follow him.

“Race you to Sam's shop!” Yuu says to their friends with a challenging smile.

Breaking out into a run, the four classmates make their way to the mirror, laughing all the while.

[shima-draws]

how did u get into sanlu/lusan ???! im ever so grateful u did bc oohohhoho my god, ur sanlu content FEEDS MEEE 🤞‼️

It’s funny you ask that bc I kinda already answered that with the last ask?? LOL

TLDR basically it’s become almost habit at this point to ship my favorite characters together (if they are compatible ofc) and Sanji and Luffy ended up becoming my favorites after watching OP for a bit so. It was inevitable 😂

I actually started out as a Zolu shipper (I still am just to a lesser degree now!) so really I think it began there—when I get into something I usually scour the AO3 tags for fics so I was on the hunt for some good Zolu writing. Zosan, being the most popular ship in the fandom (according to AO3 stats with over 10k fics. Holy shit) was also often included with Zolu fics making it a poly ship, so I was like oh hell yeah? I’m totally on board with that. So I got to see a lot of really fun dynamics with the three of them, and I started to get invested in the Sanlu side of things. As this was happening I was also watching OP at the same time and Sanji was quickly rocketing up my list of faves to take one of the top spots (Luffy had already become a favorite from the get go). And my brain was just like

so I was like okay alright. Considering. And then after that I was fucking DONE for. They got me in a vice grip and rotted my brain so thoroughly that I’m utterly ruined for any other Luffy or Sanji ships now. I can even pinpoint the EXACT date it happened bc I posted about it lmao here’s my “realizing Sanlu is the ship of all time” post from early December, the day my life changed forever /j

Anyway they just have a really good dynamic and me being the idiot I was decided not to blacklist spoiler tags so I kept seeing stuff about WCI and how it was THE Sanlu arc so that probably doomed me even further. An arc focusing on my favorite characters and their very not homoromantic relationship with each other? I started binging OP nonstop just so I could speedrun to WCI and this was back when I was on like. Episode 300 something. I was soooo impatient I was desperate to get to WCI as fast as possible so I could Suffer LMAO

So um yeah the Sanlu hyperfixation has me by the throat and doesn’t plan on letting me go anytime soon. Sorry for the rant. I can’t shut up about them Ever

[drakothedragon55]

Scary Sushi’s got my brain in a vice grip so I’m doing what the game didn’t: fleshing out the characters

Norman, the janitor. (Older fella, usually seen hunched over and mopping something. Dislikes kids/teens because, in his eyes, they’re inconsiderate & very messy. Your average grumpy old man who has a soft spot for anyone who’ll listen to him and his stories. Norman is quite loyal to Moonlight Sushi, and even in void monster form, he’s still doing his job (though he tends to make a lot of messes in this state as well.)

Lily, the Horticulturalist. A chatterbox who never seems to run out of fun facts to share about radishes of all things. Very friendly and outgoing, though a bit airheaded as well. I like to think that her hair is just permanently frizzy due to the constant misting her precious plants receive. The only time she isn’t friendly is when she’s a void monster, but she luckily sticks with her radishes each night. Don’t come close, and she won’t hurt you. Maybe.

(more under cut)

Oscar, the Pisciculturalist (or Aquaculturalist. I couldn’t decide.) Basically a fish farm worker. Takes his job WAY too seriously, despite disliking it. Pessimistic. Antisocial. Easily annoyed. What a fun person to be around! (sarcastic). The idea of leaving Moonlight Sushi is quite promising…but octopi can’t breathe air, and neither can giant void monster octopi, so he’s a more permanent employee. You’ll sometimes see him slip some secret ingredient into his coffee.

The triplets, the security team. These guys were the hardest to think of headcannons for. They aren’t even named, so imma call them Flynn, Buzz, and May. Definitely the youngest employees of Moonlight Sushi. I imagine that they don’t take their jobs too seriously during the day (they probably only got their jobs due to family connections or something) and instead prefer causing some mild mischief, or slacking off. I imagine Kimura keeps them around only because when in their void monster forms, that’s the only time they take their jobs SUPER seriously.

And finally, we have the main man himself. Hiroshi Kimura, the founder of Moonlight Sushi. Very ambitious, and power hungry. Being second place isn’t enough for Kimura. He HAS to be the best. Who cares if his secret ingredient comes from a creature straight out of the void? Who cares if it turns people into monsters at night? Kimura doesn’t. He was the first one to be infected after discovering his new secret ingredient, after all. And I imagine that he infected most, if not all of his staff to see the different effects the ingredient would have on them. He’s a smooth talker, and a scarily good liar. And for whatever reason, he’s quite secretive about his void monster form. Norman might occasionally have to clean up some inky spiderwebs, or Lily might hear some scittering coming from the ceiling, but that’s it. No one’s seen him at night. Creepy…

[crow-stars]

❝CARRY ON, HAVE SOME CALM❞

❦summary; sometimes there are bad days, sometimes there are reeally bad days. lashing out can't be helped but at the very least there are people that can help. ♪the characters in this story; trey clover, gn!reader ✎word count; 957 ❀what do the ghosts say?; ambiguous, reader is having a baaad day, short person energy, picked up like a wet cat and carried like a sack of potatoes, headpats from trey, "you're not you when you're hungry" ☛the author's notes; i have never written for trey before, but the wheel said it was trey's turn so he gets a piece. also short because my brain has been full with stuff ☪look at the catalogue?

You were angry. 

Well, just upset, or frustrated. But at the very least, you weren’t in the best of moods today. 

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?” Yes, yes you did because a certain red headed Heartslaybul thought it’d be fun to drag the covers off your body with you coming along for the ride. You ended up hitting your forehead against the bed frame and earned a nasty bump this morning. 

“Hey, how’d you do on the alchemy homework?” You wouldn’t know because you couldn’t find your alchemy homework and had to sit through a lecture from Professor Crewel about responsibility. You could have sworn you slipped it into your binder, but apparently it had slipped through somewhere.

“What did you eat for lunch today?” You didn’t. Some students were being rowdy and you ended up dropping the sandwich your friend Trey had packed for you. 

By now, you were just about ready to scream. Your head hurt, you lost your homework, and you were hungry. And all those combined into just one day was a bad combination for anyone in your general proximity. Some students could even feel the dark cloud around you and were wise to stay away to let you stew in your own emotions. 

Other people, somehow, did not take the hint. 

So, there you were walking through the hallways, eyes narrowed at anyone unfortunate enough to catch your glare, and the grip on your bag’s strap deathly. Most people had the understanding to sense your bad mood and step away. 

Though, some people weren’t included in that category. 

There, on the other end of the hall, was a group of some Savannaclaw students, talking amongst themselves, grins wide as they spoke about some topic you didn’t have the energy to think about. With you keeping your stare to the ground and the students so wrapped up in their conversation, it was inevitable that at least one was going to bump into you. And it wasn’t just a light tap, but it caused you to stumble back, bumping into someone else who, thankfully, caught you. 

“Hey! Look up while you’re walking, why don’t you?” The student sent a sharp glare in your direction while you recuperated yourself. And his words ticked you off, the last nail in the coffin to solidify your already frustrating day. 

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?!” 

Your voice practically echoed through the hall, being heard from all the way at the end. It got a shocked look out of a few people in the general vicinity, especially the group of Savannaclaw students. 

“By the Seven, can’t you be aware of your damn surroundings?! And then you have the audacity to tell me to ‘look where I walk’! Way to make a bad day worse!” 

Words began pouring from your mouth, eventually becoming a babble of frustration and anger. A few people stared at you, some a bit unsure of what to do and a few more watching in some type of amusement. The student that you were pouring your anger out on couldn’t look away, taking the brunt of your yelling. 

Two hands then wrapped around your torso, grip firm as you were suddenly tossed over someone’s shoulder like a sack of flour. “Come on now, there’s no need to be screaming like that.” 

“Trey?!” The vice housewarden let out a small chuckle as he began walking away with you over his shoulder, making sure to keep hold of your legs and support your body over his shoulder. Normally, one would be amused at this, but with your current state, you were none too pleased and started trying to squirm your way out of Trey’s hold. 

“Let me down! I’m not some kind of child! I hate you so much right now!” 

Trey paid no mind to your words, only letting out another chuckle and continuing to walk. Around halfway to wherever Trey was taking you did your kicking and yelling finally stop and you accepted defeat, lying limp on Trey’s shoulder and letting him carry you. He took you all the way to the Heartslaybul kitchen, with only a few odd looks tossed towards you two, and sat you down on one of the stools. With you sitting on the stool, Trey set a plate with a sandwich and some fruit on the side in front of you and a glass of water. You looked at Trey with a bit of confusion and he only responded by pushing the plate a bit closer. 

Sighing, you pulled the plate in front of you and began eating, chewing at the sandwich slowly and taking sips of the water while Trey watched over you. He was silent the whole time, just watching you eat. Only when the plate was empty and the glass close to empty did Trey speak. 

“Better?” 

A huff of air left you, but you nodded. A bit of food in someone’s stomach never hurt anyone, especially since you were hungry. You leaned against the counter, head held up by your hands. 

“Today sucked.” 

Trey laughed quietly, though it was that type of laugh that sounded like a mix between a chuckle and a sigh. He reached his hand over to you, his palm resting on your head for a few seconds before it made a back and forth motion, continuous and soothing. It was hard to not bask into such a gentle touch, your body easing into a more relaxed position. “Seems like it was. Do you wanna tell me about it?” 

You shook your head and exhaled slowly. “Not right now.” 

Trey nodded, a soft ‘okay’ being heard from him as he continued to pet at your head. The rest of the day may have been bad, but at the very least it ended well.

[shera-dnd]

Once again trying to talk about Themes™ and probably just saying the obvious again BUT

Baldur's Gate 3 is a game about freedom of choice, both mechanically and thematically

Not in the "Your choices matter! (not really)" way most game market themselves on

But in a "The fact you can choose matters" way that is much spicier.

Like that's literally the core driving point of the plot. You shouldn't be able to choose, you shouldn't be free, but you are and now it's up to you to fight to maintain that freedom, and decide for yourself what to do with it

(funnily enough this is also why this game doesn't hit my trigger, because all the mind control is completely opt in)

And every single companion reinforces that in one way or another.

Gale freeing himself from his past and choosing who he wants to be now, without Mystra.

Astarion killing Cazador and stopping generations of abuse in their vampiric line

Karlach escaping Zariel and choosing to make the most of the life she still has

Wyll breaking his contract with Mizora so he can choose for himself what he fights for

Lae'zel and Shadowheart both unlearning years of indoctrination at the hands of their messed up cults

And if you're playing Dark Urge you get to reinforce this again with your conflict about trying to determine for yourself who you want to be, when every fiber of your being demands that you be a monster

It's not even just the main characters. Like how often do you get sent on quests to free people who have been imprisoned or enslaved.

Volo, Halsin, the deep gnomes, the tieflings, Aylin, Volo again, Minsc, Orpheus, even Hope itself

Hell, one of the main bad guys is the chosen champion of the God of Tyranny and is using a magical mind control mcguffin to control a giant magical mind control GIGA BRAIN!

I guess that's why it feels so obvious. Every last bit of this game is used to forward this theme of freedom vs control, but it's this consistent reinforcement that makes it so good for me

And then of course this all comes to a grand conclusion towards the ending. My own feelings about the ending's execution and the parts I felt were a bit... lackluster, can wait for a different day

But thematically speaking they managed to end with a real bang, and it's all thanks to the narration

Because whatever decision you make, that woman sells it. No matter what you want your ending to be, she will fucking deliver it in just as triumphant a way as any other

BG3 doesn't want you to leave the game thinking "did I make the right choice?" it wants you to feel like whatever you choose WAS the right choice for you

I literally had my character turn into a squid and them kill themself and she still managed to make that a glorious moment to finalize my story on.

"After so many deaths in the name of your father, this one is just for you"

(god so many lines from the durge playthrough have my brain in a vice grip)

And speaking of daddy dearest, the only endings that come across as being bad, are the ones where you surrender your freedom.

When you surrender to the Absolute, when you do as Bhaal commands you, when you give the crown to Raphael

The entire game is one giant conflict between your freedom to self determine vs more powerful beings and their drive to take absolute control

And so the only way for your story to end "badly" is if you surrender to those powers and give up

...so yeah... that's all I got

Baldur's Gate 3 is a good game

Could use some work here and there, and my nitpicks could make their own needlessly long post, but it's still really good

Go play it

[vellichorom]

Hello Discord User Vellichorom AKA Twinkie AKA Velli AKA individual who’s character I love so much who has consumed my literal every day for the last year plus that I have not stopped thinking about (literally, over three hundred and sixty five days have gone buy and every single one of them I’ve had this man in my head, Vellichorom, do you know what you’ve done Vellichorom, you did this to me.) 

NOW I MAY BE UNHINGED ABOUT THIS MAN but how about I take a step back for a moment to just, talk about it? To discuss the absolute mastery I feel has been carefully and lovingly crafted into him? 

I’m really picky about the characters I like. Yeah I am fond of characters, I’ll like them and talk about them and whatever, but NOT ONCE has a character CONSUMED MY LITERAL BRAIN CELLS like Thierry has. Of course he has an amazing base to go off of, he IS THE NARRATOR, and I will admit that I absolutely ADORE TSP and all of the lore that has been crafted into him... but that alone was not enough for me to be purely interested in him for a long period of time (cough: see me not doing much tsp stuff aside from Thierry cough) 

The way that you have woven in every aspect of TSP and its canon into him, and then MADE IT EVEN BETTER AND MENTAL-ILLNESS-INDUCING has got me gripping the edge of my seat like a feral goblin every time you post literally ANYTHING about him ever. You blended TSP/TSPCC/adjacent lore together in a way that makes Thierry his own thing and also the perfect embodiment of the Narrator.

I have hyper fixations that wane and grow over time, things that I have enjoyed for long stints, but NEVER, EVER, Has there been ONE CHARACTER that has captured my attention so wholly. 

Looking at just him as a character, I adore the way you actually embrace and show off his flaws in a way that feels so human and also just like the weird fucking creature that The Narrator obviously is. You paid SO MUCH attention to detail and THAT SHOWS! IT DOES!! The Narrator is EGOTISTICAL, he is AN ASSHOLE, HE IS NOT PERFECT! EVER!I won’t shit on other people for wanting that for their own interpretations, but by god if you aren’t one of the like, two other people I’ve seen PERFECTLY capture that in his actions and behavior. You interpret the scenes in TSP/UD with such a nuanced and in depth eye with Thierry that I actually ENVY YOU FOR IT because I WANT TO DO THAT TOO. The expression of his ego balanced with his simultaneous self-loathing is just a perfect coat of icing on the proverbial cake. You miraculously made this man exactly as loveable and hateable as the straight up copy-pasted canon. I want him to suffer, and I love him so much, and I feel awful for him, and I think he’s an asshole. 

His relationship with Rosemary? Do I even HAVE to say anything? No, I don’t, but IM GOING TO. 

I seriously have never understood how you and Tomie so amazingly captured that Stanley/Narrator relationship through Gore/Guts in such an AWE INSPIRING, BEAUTIFUL, AND HORRIFIC way. Like, I genuinely do not know how to put into words the way that I absolutely ADORE this interpretation of it. The never ending spiral of desperation, need and reliance that the Narrator has on Stanley (and vice versa) is FLAWLESSLY executed and showcased with Rosemary/Thierry. I know I don’t really talk about Gogu as much as I talk about Thierry, but I have said it before and I will say it again, they are AMAZING, THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL, AND I CANNOT THINK OF ANY LITERALLY ANY NARRATOR X  RELATIONSHIP THAT PERFECTLY EXEMPLIFIES THE WAY THAT THE NARRATOR WOULD BE WITH SOMEONE, AND THE HORRORS THAT COME WITH IT. EVER. 

And the most amazing part is that you, YOU, a fucking EXCELLENT, BEAUTIFUL, TALENTED ARTIST, have made THE design ever. THE. DESIGN. EVER. No exceptions. OBVIOUSLY the enjoyment of a design of a character of such a nature is mostly up to personal taste, but for one second can we stand back and think about who the fuck we’re talking about? 

We can go based off of a few things:

His VA, Kevan Brighting: Mr. Brighting is a fat, old man. He has JOWLS, he has WRINKLES, he has WEIGHT not only to himself, but his voice. OBVIOUSLY not all VAs match their characters, but when you consider someone’s voice and the voice you assign TO a character, you usually want it to mimic that, and The voice that Mr. Brighting does for the Narrator is literally just that. And old, crotchety, fat british man. 

Specifically based on his Voice: Again, to piggy back off of what I was just saying, a character is meant to match the voice, you can hear the way he slightly slurs/mushes his words together, (which, by the way, if people didn’t know, slight lisps can be caused by more weight/fat being in the face! :D) You can hear him creaking around in his chair!

Based on context clues/general ideas of what the character is doing/does: The Narrator, as described in the game, is old (context clues people, context clues), codes/can create things using code, is not human (‘various human sensibilities’ gives that RIGHT away) and sits in a chair coding/reading shit most of the time. If anyone looks me in the eyes and tells me that a person who does that would not at least be heavy set, I will wack them with a stick. 

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID: this means that YOU MADE HIM! Look at him! Look at that man! It’s FUCKING HIM, ITS THE NARRATOR REAL! HE’S REALLL!!! I don’t give a flying fuck what my bias says, if I think of the Narrator I am going to think of someone that looks either like Kevan Brighting, or Thierry Ellis-Baker. There is no other thing for me. I can kinda smush other designs into it, and see it that way via The Square Hole /ref - but it will ALWAYS AND FOREVER be that. He’s an omnipresent voice that doesn’t show himself, when he’s not, he is NOT WEARING A SUIT. But he is FASHIONABLE, WHO is looking at him, seeing the fact that he wears a fucking fancy, flowing, stylish cardigan WITH A GOLD CHAIN, and saying NO He LOokS lIke A sLOb??? Because you are literally wrong, I would AND HAVE worn things that are LESS FANCY than that in professional settings. He’s wearing a turtleneck sweater, dress pants, and some comfy BUT PRESENTABLE shoes. If someone thinks he looks slobby they’re delusional. Like what do they think? That that old man should be wearing a suit for whatever fucking reason??? In his Office??? In his chair while sitting on his fat ass? (NOT TO SAY THAT HE CAN’T, AND I KNOW THIERRY HAS, AND CAN, AND WOULD IF HE NEEDED TO, BUT WHO ON GOD’S GREEN EARTH, ESPECIALLY WHEN CODING AND SHIT, WANTS TO WEAR A SUIT 24/7)  Also, tacking this on here at the end, you have helped SO much with my comfort with acknowledging my own body weight, accepting it, and liking myself more than literally anyone could ever have, and Thierry is a HUGE part of that for SO many reasons.

I love everything about him, Vellichorom, and it is of my humble opinion that everyone who does not and looks at him like he is anything less than what The Narrator is at his most basic, are dirty little liars who are jealous

TL;DR: Anyone who is disrespectful and disregards the expert care, craft, and love that has gone into Thierry lore and design wise can go and suck the fattest, dirtiest rock they find outside in a river, and report back to me in fourteen business days with their illnesses so I can laugh at them :)

Thank you for coming to my two+ page essay/TED Talk Uh... oh yeah this is an ask box... uh... what's your favorite fun fact about Thierry/Romary? :)

ujm jm, umm um that they love you

[yandere-daydreams]

same anon who spoke about fairy tail but i LOVE TBHK!!! nene loterally holds my heart and like yeah.. she literally is just a high schooler who has a terrible deck of cards handed to her. i haven’t picked up the manga in a long while so i’ll probs pick it up again after you talking about it!

i'm catching up on the more recent chapter currently and i could not recommend getting back into it more highly!!! every character in the manga is the best possible version of that character i could possibly imagine ofc, but nene is just,,, so deeply special to me. i love a protagonist who's willing to simply grit her teeth and delude herself into believing that her paranormal horror life is actually a romcom waiting to happen, and very much appreciate that this is an Active Effort on her part rather than something she's doing out of naivety. she's got such a vice grip on her own shojo-rotted brain and i'm deeply in love with her for it. she is in mortal danger near-constantly but let no one say that she is not also thriving <3