#oc: the slunk

[hugsohugs]

what if the slunk…was a slail!? 😳🤔 really makes you think…

[donksodonks]

reupload bc i forgot his tail

ref sheet for my new funny little guy, The Slunk

based vaguely off of sea slugs

he is...not very smart

hammed burger.

[shag0hod]

my faaavorite thing is to draw characters in the same pose. but here are some refs i did for artfight ^_^

[flareguncalamity]

ride the cyclone kind of to me feels like they tried to write cats again but accidentally added two grizabella the glamour cats

[pursuitseternal]

“A Night with the Ascendant:” Chapter 6

Ascended Astarion x F!OC | M this ch | 2.7 K

🎨 by @summerwarlock

Summary: Preparations for festivities in full swing, the Ascendant and his Bride clash. Lumina’s own past begins to surface, and the Ascendant may learn he’s decidedly bit off more than he can chew…

CW: banter, mention of prior abuse

Previous Ch | Ao3 Link | Masterlist

Lumina stood in the sun, a fact she still struggled to comprehend. Strolling the palace gardens, watching servants and vendors and musicians hurrying in and out of every door made her nervous. And of course there was her promise that she would remain close by and yet not underfoot from the preparations.

Never had she seen the refined effort that went into Astarion’s soirées. The one time she had attended, she arrived in the line of his Spawn, all the hubbub having settled and guests having arrived. Of course, that was the night he turned her… for the second time. From Spawn to Bride.

Now, she rested against the walls of the palace, arms crossed and chin low against her chest as she watched the organized chaos it was to organize such a grand affair.

“Not just any affair…” that velvet voice purred in her mind. “A grand affair for one exalted, beautiful vampiric Bride and her Sire,” he crooned, a caress of his attention stroking down her spine. “For you, all for you,” his words warmed her very blood as it ran undead in her veins. His presence in her mind was no longer tendrils, no longer like the strings of a marionette. It’s… as if his heart beat in her chest, a warmth that grew and expanded at his will, and yet never, ever diminished.

She loved it. And feared it.

A parade of servants carrying crates after crates of brilliant new dining wear… gold encrusted cups and plates of purest silver… she wondered if she would ever hold a simple wooden cup again or have to endure the taste of stale ale just to live…

She wondered why Astarion ever thought an urchin like her was worthy of his magnanimity and princely luxury. Flashes of those visions of his past came to her mind, a reminder that he hadn’t always been so great and powerful. A slave, like her. Abused, like her. A being now remade to be greater than the sum of his sufferings… like her.

Only, her abuser yet sucked air.

Mr. Tanner, she cursed the name, sucking in spit to launch into the ground near her skirts at just the thought of him. A curse on that rat.

“My Consort, such actions are not befitting of your status…”

Astarion had drawn up short, his embroidered and polished shoes just a hair's breadth away from here her spittle landed in the gravel of the path. The look on his pale face was screwed in surprise and displeasure… and yet expectation glinted in his crimson eyes as he found his love.

“Enjoying your ability to read my thoughts, my lord?” Lumina gave a disinterested smile as she walked towards the rose garden.

“I do find it useful, I confess,” he hummed his reply. “How else am I supposed to know what goes on in that pretty little head of yours?” He slunk after her, catching her beneath the arch in the garden wall, that perfect, rakish smirk turned down upon her. One arm staving off further retreat, he leaned down to whisper right against her ear. “You, my dear, have secrets, and I wish to know and love them all,” he rasped. That warm touch trailed up her skirts, resting on the curve of her hip. “I wish to… uncover them… unravel them… and see you come completely undone for me…” he purred into the creases of her ear.

Lumina smirked. “It seems you’re adding in another sort of request, aside from just coming to know my… secrets,” she teased, or tried to. It was a challenge to hold her own against the onslaught of that seductive smirk and hungry, devouring gaze. “B-besides, I know you have secrets, too…”

“More than I care to admit,” Astarion conceded, pressing his body just a little firmer against her, inch by pulse-racing inch.

His heart rapt against her chest, inside and out. That beating pulse racing as he slid a thigh into her skirts, as his head craned lower to inhale her scent as he nuzzled her neck. A chaste little kiss pressed on the right side of her neck, those small, twin scars of her turning tangible beneath his lips. “Tell me one secret, my little light.”

The order made her stomach flip flop, made her mouth taste of cotton and go dry.

“B-B-Balduran Mash is my favorite meal… or it was,” Lumina sputtered out nervously. Astarion jerked his head back in good humored surprise, hand slipping from the wall to brace his stomach. He gave a deep bellied laugh, those eyes squinting shut as he outright chortled. “Oh… oh my dear,” he managed to say in between his bouts of laughter. “You are a rare one, my love.” He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

And Lumina couldn’t help but join in with her own nervous, breathy giggle. “It was something you didn’t know, my Lord. A secret I kept from you.”

“And I’m so pleased you chose to divulge such a juice tidbit,” came his reply, his eyes opening to smile down on her. “I’ll share one back. My favorite meal is still the calamari at the Elfsong, though it was more delicious four centuries ago before…” he trailed off, that all too familiar veil of his shadowed past closing over him again. “Before I became a slave and spawn, before I lost the thrill that came with feeling truly alive and sought to reclaim all the appetites and arousals of man after my Ascension.”

Those memories closed in again, the ones he had kept so carefully guarded and locked away, tighter and tighter as the years passed. As each one of his old companions fell to the dust.

A cool hand cupped his face, and Lumina’s own scarlet eyes blinked up at him. So many silent questions swirled behind their sparkling depths. But she knew better than to push and pry, as if she felt the weight of his suffering. Maybe she did. Maybe she knew more of how to use their mating bond than he gave her credit for. She was clever, well-read, and reckless, he mused as he clasped her hand from his face to kiss it. “There is so much of you I feel as if I already know, my little light,” he whispered. “Barring a few secrets, I sometimes feel as if I’ve known you for centuries as if… you were from …”

The words die in his mouth. Another time. As if you were from that time, of fighting the Absolute and making camp in the Wilds and slaying Cazador and…

“Like calls to like, my Lord,” she whispered. “I often feel the same. If anything, I wish my story had been yours. Vengeance and freedom, independence and friendship. The grand heroics of it all…” She sighed wistfully, looking into the rose garden beyond the wall.

“Tch,” he schooled his face into that proper seductive smirk. “I was no hero, only a Rogue.”

Lumina gave him a wry smile, slipping back towards the palace, where a parade of musicians entered into the grand doors. “Even a Rogue can have valor,” she teased. “I know so, or else you wouldn’t have been a hero of Baldurian legend. Great as Balduran himself.”

That made Astarion snort and chuckle all at once. “Oh, my dear, you have no idea,” he tried to purr, too many deep-chested giggles in his words to sound seductive.

Running a hair through his mussy, long hair, he offered Lumina his arm. “If the minstrels are here, then it’s almost time to present the rarest jewel in my collection, my greatest treasure and Bride, the Lady Lumina.” He dipped a gallant bow, the likes of which Lumina had only read about in her books. Even as her dead heart leaped at the sight, she placed her hand, his warm fingers curling around it as he straightened. “Let’s get you pampered and perfected, my love. You’ll shine even greater at this celebration than ever you did as my spawn. A true light among the dullards of my other creations…”

As they passed the entryway to the cellars… the dormitory of ‘those other creations,’ Lumina chewed her lip. Morana’s warning still echoed in her thoughts. That strange sense of betrayal, or a need for justice, it made her stomach churn and not from hunger. “My Lord, surely your spawn will not be in attendance to… entertain… as we have in the past?”

“Do not ingratiate yourself with them,” he growled, replying without even turning his head. “They are beneath you, my dear. Beneath me. But they serve their purpose as they have for centuries.” Crimson eyes glanced down in the briefest flicker, catching the look of unease… indignant unease on Lumina’s pale face. “It is tradition, expected at my soirées. And my soirées are nothing short of pure hedonism at its finest.”

A chill wafted up her spine as they passed the entrance to the cellars, and it was as if Lumina could feel the heat of a dozen red eyes boring into her, unseen in the darkness.

“Perhaps, my Lord would prefer to merely have the others attend as guests…”

The speed with which his head snapped was preternaturally. “What?” He bit, half bark, half snarl. And all indignant.

Lumina swallowed the lump in her throat as she met his furious gaze.

“Darling,” he purred, that rumble laced with danger, “my spawn want for nothing. They are well fed, protected, and many escaped lives of torment or illness for an eternity of carefree existence under my care. But let me be very… clear. They are still my spawn, and I will do as I please.” Crimson eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Is that understood, my beauty?”

Lumina’s gaze dropped, “Yes, Master.” That reply, so common for her full and smiling lips, this time it was laced with a venom Astarion didn’t know she possessed.

It made him draw up short, mid-stride as he was about to continue up to their chambers. “Lumina…” he purred his warning, his face softening into the now more familiar look of openness. “Come here,” he breathed, pulling her into his embrace.

Her face pressed against the elegant stitching of his jacket, and every breath she took was saturated with that cologne of rosemary, bergamot and brandy, that scent she could almost taste, even as a vampire. His voice was hypnotic, filling her mind and ears all at once. “Oh, my little light, let’s not bicker on your special day. Do not fret, my love, about the others. They are my concern, and I’ll ensure you’re well protected from all their spite or jealousy, if Morana is any indication of their tidings. I’ll allow them to feast at will tonight, to do as they please. That should smooth things over nicely.”

He chortled to himself, pulling back and lifting Lumina’s chin by the tip of his finger. “And you, my love, my bride, my darling, you’re going to look radiant sitting on my lap and dancing in my arms alone.”

Fortunately for her, she didn’t need to breathe as Lumina froze. Her eyes fluttered closed quicker than the walls of her pussy as they clenched around nothing. Her lips pursed, longing for his, for the slow, torturous kiss he worked against her mouth. Those warm, familiar fingers clawed under her chin, extending to wrap around her throat, his palm feeling the needy whine that escaped from her mouth. A rolling chuckle tickled her lips as he ran his tongue across her seam, delving in to taste her.

“My love,” he growled, exploring deeper. Lumina’s head spun, her hands gripping into his arms just to keep her feet under her. The slice of his fang into her bottom lip, the coppery taste of her own blood sent her own hunger at a raging pace. “Easy, my light,” he hissed, the briefest of giggles in his throat as he pulled back. The trail of blood from the corner of his mouth called to her, beckoned her to lick it clean.

Astarion let out his own growl of need as her cool tongue bathed the mess. Just one swipe and he smiled down on her. “Careful, unless you want me to gobble you up before the party instead of after the festivities,” he crooned, his tongue darting out to lick his lips clean of her taste.

Lumina backed up a step, willing her body to slide away from the warm, sinewy frame she was so addicted to. “Of course, my Lord,” she whispered, forcing her voice quiet to hide the way she trembled for him.

Not that she could conceal her lust, her affection. They reverberated down their bond, and it thrilled Astarion to the core. Back in his chambers, he let her ready herself with her maids, the door between their rooms open so he could savour the soft sounds of her movements, the little giggles she made as she dressed and had her hair done up.

His heart had beat for centuries already, but those small noises of companionship, the feeling of her presence entwined in his mind….

For the first time in his ancient memory, he let out a contented sigh. He hadn’t felt this warm and happy since… well, since those days. His plush lips turned in a wistful smile as he looked into the mirror on his wall, his steady, dexterous hands rimming his eyes in kohl as he loved to for such celebrations.

If only they all could see him now, perhaps they would be proud. Well, as close to proud as they felt for him and his eccentricities and selfish tendencies. But, he couldn’t help but imagine the soft smile on Halsin’s scarred face to hear he found a companion, the eye roll that Shadowheart would give him as she congratulated him all tongue-in-cheek for his efforts. Wyll would clap him warmly on the back; Gale would enter into some lengthy diatribe, waxing poetically about love and all that nonsense. A dismissive T’chk from Lae’zel and a flesh-burning hug from Karach…

Astarion lost himself for a moment, not hearing Lumina enter until she pressed a hand to his arm.

Then he slowly opened his eyes, meeting her reflection in his mirror. One more gift he bestowed on her as his Bride, all the powers and love of the Ascendant at her disposal. “Little love,” he purred, “whatever could be the matter?”

Lumina bit her lip. “Perhaps, my Lord, this is not the best of times, but you asked after my… secrets earlier.”

He gave a warm half smile, wrapping one arm around her little waist. “I’m all pointy ears, love. Tell me… divulge your secrets to your love.”

Now, she chewed her lip, her single fang jutting out just a little as she worried. “When I was… collected by your servants… I left behind a most wretched life. It was… not unlike your own from before…”

Astarion inhaled sharply, those perfect nostrils flaring on his perfect, aquiline nose. But he kept himself silent, acutely aware of the moment and her own festering anxiety.

“I was kept… indentured by contract to Mr. Tanner and his emporium in the Lower City.” Her voice was quiet, her face crestfallen, as she bared her vulnerable soul to him. “He would sell all manner of things… even… me.” Her hand gripped harder into his arm, eyes closing. And then she felt the warm breadth of his hand cover hers. She found her courage and her breath. “Life was hell and he was my devil,” she hissed.

Astarion squeezed her hand. “And now, my lady, you have a saviour, a lord and master to spoil you as you deserve.” He purred, raising her hand to his smiling lips, caressing her cool, smooth knuckles. “Do not fret, my darling. I’ll protect you. With me, you’ll be flourishing… for I am with you always. I will be watching,” he looked down at her, eyes wide and wet and doting. His deep, silken voice purred into her mind. “I am always watching. You’re safe now, my sweet.”

A placating smile on her berry-red lips, and Lumina let the matter go, letting his hand go as well. But her mind whirred with rage, with an unsated hunger…. She would have blood. Not for her eternal thirst, but for revenge.

😘😘 to @nyx-knox for her reading of the drama (literally)

[redfoxwritesstuff]

For Eternity, Chapter 6

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult - this fic contains content inappropriate for minors. Chapter Warnings: canon typical violence, non consensual touching of a romantic nature

@impulsivethoughtsat2am Was darling enough to beta <3 Many thanks, Dearheart.

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord. And my friend runs a Hazbin Fic Community

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Isabel sat on the cold platform, too bright lights shining in her face. The heat radiating from the lights was oppressive, making her part her lips and pant. Or perhaps that was the fear. 

There were too many eyes on her, taking in too much of her exposed flesh. She wanted nothing more than to cover herself from their eyes, but she couldn’t. Her arms were suspended above her, the contraption set to pull her back and to the hard surface she sat on when Valentino decided it was time. 

That made her shoulder joints ache, but it was nothing compared to her wings. They’d already shot the scene of Angel Dust catching her, innocent and pure for the opening of the film. 

That scene hadn’t been so bad. Her limbs were free, and a flowing wrap dress covered her body for most of the scene. The material was gauzy, letting light pass through, but it offered her some coverage just the same. They allowed her to indulge in her modesty during it, using her wings to cover her body as he exposed the lacey undergarments that hid the fading bruises left by Adam.

Valentino and Vox cared more about hiding those marks than the ones Vox had left, blooming dark from a few hours earlier. There was a desperation in him as he almost pleaded with her not to do this, as if it was her decision to do it in the first place. 

All she had to do was accept him. Be his. Want him. He’d tell her everything she needed to know about that man that had been her husband in life. She would see that he was the right choice. She just had to pick him. 

But she couldn’t and she didn’t. Though he tried to paint this as her choice, her doing, she knew it wasn’t. Again and again, as his hands grabbed at her jaw, strange flat face kissing her forcefully puckered lips, she told herself that this wasn’t her betrayal. Again and again, as his hands gripped her waist, she told herself that her Alastor was always a progressive man. He would understand. 

Again and again, she reminded herself what Angel Dust had whispered in her ears as he performed the act of catching her. Alastor knew. Alastor was coming. Alastor would fix this. Alastor would stop this. Alastor. 

Alastor. 

The sanctuary of her thoughts shattered as a man pulled roughly on the end of her wing, having tied a rope around it tightly. The same was being done to the other wing, and they were being forcefully spread wide, put on lewd display along with the rest of her. 

It made an impressive sight to all those on the crew. She could see in most eyes how the sight of wings marking her divinity moved them. Not so much in a sexual way, though that had been there too. In death, she found herself blessed with wings so similar to that of angelic art on earth. Having them on full display moved those that had been religious in life. 

Angel Dust wouldn’t look at them. His eyes were downcast as he stood, nearly naked, and yet her eyes struggled to see him as such with the way soft fur covered his body. 

“Places, everyone!” Valentino yelled and Angle Dust finally looked up, meeting her eyes.

She smiled at him as he slunk onto the set, a mask of confident sexiness falling on his face. The golden tooth in his smile gleamed in the light as “Action!” was called.

He approached, reciting the lines as the script demanded. It wasn’t as cringy as it could have been, but she paid the words no mind. They didn’t matter; it wasn’t like anyone expected her to pretend or react in any way that wasn’t wholly natural to her. For her, this wasn’t an act.

They wanted to film her experiencing exactly what was going to happen, after all. They intended to make their money on her pain and violation. They did not need to provide her special lines or reason to force her to say them.They rightfully knew she wouldn’t cooperate, anyway. 

She was just another prop in their disgusting production. 

Isabel tried to be strong as Angel Dust drew closer. Though she tried, she couldn’t stop the tears from gathering in her eyes. There was nothing she could do to stop her body from trembling as Angel Dust ran soft fingertips across her skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered near silently as he looked away from her eyes, greedy grin plastered in place, a jarring contrast to the regret and pain in his eyes. 

“Is he coming?” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked at Angel Dust with fear and hope. 

“He said he would,” was all Angel Dust said as he caressed her body, kissing her neck as he reached behind her to unclasp her bra. 

“Please,” she sobbed as Angle Dust ripped the straps of the bra, allowing it to fall from her. “Please, don’t make him do this.” 

Off to the side of the set, people yelled for Angel Dust to move out of the way, to consider the shots. Vox took the small direction break to swoop in, brushing her hair off her shoulder and reminding her that all she had to do was pick him and it would be over. This didn’t have to happen. He could put a stop to it all with just a snap of his clawed finger. 

Angel Dust didn’t have to hurt her. Val wouldn’t have to make Angle Dust do this. She could stop it. Protect herself. Protect him. It was she who held that power, no one else. 

“No,” she choked on the word, jerking away from Vox’s cold talons as best she could, “Alastor will come for me.”

“He hasn’t yet,” Vox laughed. “Does he know she’s here, Angel? Does he even care? Probably not!”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Angel plastered that greedy smile on his face for Vox. “I avoid Smiles. That dude is creepy.” 

“Places!” Valentino yelled, “Action.” 

“Alastor,” she whimpered his name as Angel Dust resumed kissing her neck, moving to be by her side and using his arms to frame her exposed breasts. He caressed her softly, whispering his apologies into her skin as she chanted her husband’s name like a prayer. 

Each whispered plea for her husband stung Angel Dust’s heart the same as if she had plunged a blade into it. Where the fuck was Alastor? Why the fuck was it getting this far? Angle Dust debated if outright refusal was worth the punishment from Val just to avoid violating her. Could he even refuse? Was it possible with his contract?

Who was trembling more, her or him? Angel Dust couldn’t be sure as he smoothed his hands over her naked ribs, working his way to her chest as Valentino demanded rougher hands, “I’m so sorry.”

Lights dimmed, flickering out for a moment before slowly returning. No matter how bright the lights got, though, the shadows seemed to remain. Some lights dimmed again while others grew brighter yet, seeming to compensate until the brightening bulbs burst, one after the other.

Angel Dust pulled his face from her chest, whispering her name until her panicked eyes met his. “He’s here.” 

“What?” Fear flooded her as glass showered the set, leaving them sitting in a dim spotlight. The rope suspending her arms above her head went slack, causing her to sag to the ground, crying out as the full weight of her body was unexpectedly supprted by her straining wings. 

A moment later her wings sagged, their ropes cut as well, causing her to fall forward, landing in Angel Dust’s arms. Under the sea of panic, screaming filled her ears. She couldn’t make out what anyone was saying as she clutched at him. 

Angel Dust soothed, rubbing a hand down her lower back as another rubbed above her wings. Holding her close, he obscured her body as best he could as her wings hung limply, sore and strained from the stress of supporting her weight so suddenly.

A pool of shadows seemed to bleed off their shadows under foot, startling Isabel. She flinched away from it, or at least tried to while Angel Dust held her in his many arms. Shadows rose from the ground, materializing into the shape of a tall man. 

“Good Day!” He said with a boundless cheer as color bled into him, rather literally. He was red- that was the only way she could describe him. “Forgive me for popping by without calling.” 

Isabel peeked at him, huddled in Angel Dust’s arms as he used a single hand to unbutton his red long coat with a practiced ease she had seen many times before. As the coat fell around his waist, he took his hand from his cane and it shocked her to see it remain standing on its own. 

Screaming, she could hear angry yelling, but the words felt like they were in another language as blood rushed through her ears, roaring like the ocean waves. 

The cane, topped with an old-fashioned microphoneand was the same red as the rest of the man. So much red. Looking up at the man, she watched as he shrugged out of his coat, gathering it in his arm. 

“Angel Dust!” Valentino yelled, “What did you do?!” 

“He didn’t need to do anything! Haha!” The man knelt in front of her, a chilling grin plastered across his face as he fed the coat under Isabel’s plush wings, paying no mind to how she flinched away from him. He wrapped the coat around her shoulders, letting her wings hold it low down her back.

“I’ll help her button it.” Angel Dust whispered, not looking the man in the eye as he spoke. 

“Hold on to her for a moment longer for me, will you?” 

“Alastor?” She breathed his name, realizing who he had to be. 

A large, red clawed hand rested on her head softly as he looked down at her, a yellow smile grotesquely wide, with blood dripping from his lips. “Be a darling for me and don’t look.” 

When she sat frozen, eyes still locked on his too pale face framed by even more red, he ran his hand down from the top of her head. He caressed her forehead as he slowly covered her eyes, forcing her to close them to protect them. 

“Good girl,” he said as her eyes remained closed. “Stay just like that.” 

With her eyes closed, she could just hear it. Under the static, under the screams, under the crackling distortion of a carbon microphone that sounded a lot like home, she could hear his voice. 

Her Alastor was here. She had found him. After decades of waiting and longing, she found him. 

“Lean back,” Angel Dust pushed her shoulders away from him softly as he helped her put her arms in the jacket sleeves. Once she had it on, though somewhat awkwardly because of her wings, Angel Dust buttoned the front. 

“He came.” Tears spilled down from her closed eyes as Angel Dust gathered her back in his arms. 

“I told you he would,” Angel Dust whispered, hardly loud enough to be heard over the screams and static. “You know, I’ve never seen him take this coat off before.” 

Angel Dust fell into silence as he held her trembling body against his. Violence raged around them, but he was determined to make up for every violating caress he had placed on her skin by protecting her from the sight of her husband ripping his coworkers limb from limb. 

TV static, radio feedback, and clashing metal filled the room. Angle Dust hummed, rocking her as he tried to remember the words to the songs of his childhood. There wasn’t much he could do to drown out the chaos without drawing attention to him. 

He had to look uninvolved. Either way, he would be punished for this shitshow regardless, but if he could play his cards right, if he could pretend to know nothing, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. 

Whatever price he had to pay for having a part in this, though, Angel Dust knew it was worth it. It was worth it to not have to force himself onto her, into her. It was worth it. No matter how bad it was going to be, it would be worth it. 

Tag List: @preciousbabypeter, @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty

[seventeenpins]

give 'em a show

pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

word count: 1.5k

summary: Joel watches you as you dance with a stranger in the bar. It goes a little too far, and Joel makes sure everyone knows exactly who you belong to. (Literally just smut.)

warnings: established monogamous-ish relationship, exhibitionism/public sex, jealousy, somewhat insecure joel, both asshole!joel and soft!joel, joel miller is an ass man, no implied age gap, smidge of ass play, possessive behavior, choking, derogatory language, didn't mean to make it sweet but it kinda ended up that way WHOOPS

a/n: first, not to self promote too much but pls check out this Joel/nb!oc series i've just started set in an 1870s outbreak au, i'm really excited about where it's gonna go!!! last night i drank a bottle of wine, woke up this morning and found this in my drafts. needed a bit of editing, but here u go~ this fic is dedicated to the incredible couple I saw about five years ago, both wearing cowboy hats whilst fucking, bent over their pickup truck, just outside of a cowboy bar. and I'm not saying Joel's wearing a cowboy hat, but I'm not saying he's not.

The room was vibrating, the bass of the music buzzing up your legs. It was dark and the flashing lights were near-blinding, but despite the hindrance, you could feel Joel's eyes on you all night. He watched, unmoving, never missing a single beat.

But when you felt the stranger's hard cock against your ass as you ground against him, you knew you'd crossed a line.

Only a moment and barely a blink later, you could hear his low warning, "You wanna keep your hands? Better keep them off my woman," and the man you'd been dancing with slunk away barely a moment later.

"You think you're cute?" he asked, tone dangerous, whispered in your ear.

"No, Joel, I-"

"You think this is a fuckin' game?"

It was a game, but this was part of the rules.

Mostly.

The shake of his voice betrayed his thinly-veiled intensity.

You did let that guy rub up on you, and you'd never let it get that far before.

Fuck.

"You really think I'm gonna watch you let some asshole put his hands all over you?" he asked. You hadn't anticipated this level of reaction, and you could feel yourself getting wet.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm the only one who gets to fuckin' touch you, baby,"

"Yes, Joel, you-"

"You wanna let me make you feel good," he said, and then glared over towards the man you were dancing with, "Or do you wanna go home with that guy?"

"Always with you, Joel, only want you."

"Fuckin' right," he growled, and then pulled you in by the waist. Let his hands wander, grazing across the swell of your breast, the small of your waist and then grabbing your ass, staking his claim. "We're getting out of here."

You could barely keep your hands off one another as you stumbled over to Joel's pickup, and when you got there, Joel began pressing incongruously gentle kisses on you. From that sweet spot just behind your ear, down your throat and then your collarbone, he sent you spiralling into soft, hazy dizziness.

Then, cruelly, he pulled away and started fumbling with his keys, searching out the right one to unlock his truck.

"No!," you shouted, and you both nearly jumped, startled at the unexpected urgency of your voice.

"No," you said again, quieter. He dropped his hands and looked at you a moment before you continued. "No, don't wanna wait that long. Don't care if we get out of here. Need you to fuck me. In the truck, on the truck, I don't fucking care. Just need you, Joel."

He stared at you, barely blinking, studying your face. You were lost in his eyes, pupils blown wide but catching the moonlight perfectly.

"Dirty girl," he breathed, "I got you," and then he was pressing you forward to lean against the truck. You let out a moan when he folded you over, and whimpered when he pulled up your skirt.

He can't stop touching you, like his hands are being compelled to run all along your body as if by magnetic pull. His touch is constantly changing, one moment it's feather-light, the next moment he's grabbing and scratching at your flesh, and it all feels exquisite.

You're overwhelmed by sensation, lost in the way Joel works his hands over you. Grabbing at your flesh, dragging his nails along your sides, calloused fingertips catching against the smooth skin of your ass as he rubs circles against your skin.

Then, he's stroking your jaw, prying open your lips, pressing his thumb into your mouth.

"Get it nice and wet, baby," he soothed, and then, "Christ," he groaned as you laved your tongue around the digit, collecting your spit, a string of saliva hanging between your lips and his thumb as he pulled his thumb out.

"Gonna fuck you good, baby, show everyone here who you belong to. That's what you want, huh?"

You whimpered in response, which earned you a smack to the ass. "Words, honey," he hissed, and you nodded.

"Yes, baby, that's what I want."

"Damn right."

He pulls your panties down, leaving your ass completely bare in the midnight air.

Then he's spreading your ass cheeks apart and stroking his glistening thumb between your folds. The added slick mixed with your arousal makes for the most delicious glide as he presses his thumb inside you and then withdraws it, replacing it with two fingers.

It's rough, verging on brutal, but any pain is overwhelmed by pleasure and within moments you're already a shaking mess.

"We're gonna let everyone here see just how well you take this cock, ain't we?"

You love when he talks to you like this, uses you like this. You whine an affirmation and you can feel his hard cock, his need, pressed up against you through his jeans, and he doesn't seem too worried about words anymore.

"You want me to fill you up good, huh? Fuckin' slut you are." He gripped your hips, guiding your bare ass to rub against his bulge. Then, he released you and you could hear the unbuckling of his belt, the pull of his zipper.

He pressed the head of his cock up against your drooling pussy, notching the head between your folds.

"Put on a show for me, baby," he growled, and slid into you in one slow thrust.

Your tits were pressed up against the pickup's hood, cold even through your top, and Joel's hands were like a fire on your body, hot and wonderful, freely wandering across your goose-bumped flesh.

As he starts to speed up and fuck you in earnest, his thumb glides down the cleft of your ass and starts to press against your tight muscle.

You hiss out a "yes", a stilted affirmation, and he pulls away the thumb for just a moment, popping it in his mouth, getting it wet again, and then pressing it into you.

You rut up against the intrusion, feeling him push further into your ass, his thrusts growing faster and harder. He doesn't fuck you with his digit, just lets it sit there, pressing into you. You know that if there wasn't the possibility of an audience, he'd probably be eating out your ass right now.

That's a step too far, something he reserves for him and only for him. Loves the way he can make you come just from fucking your ass.

He fucks you rough and steady, balls slapping against your clit with each thrust. Your legs start to buckle, sensation of being so completely filled starting to tip you over the edge.

You think you hear a wolf whistle from the distance.

"Attagirl," Joel praises, "Puttin' on a real nice show, huh? Takin' this cock so good. Sounds like we've got company, baby. Doin' such a good job."

"I love it-" you breathe, "They know I'm yours. All yours, every bit of me-"

"Damn right," he growls, "Fillin' you up real full."

"Joel," you sob, "I'm gonna come, gonna come on your cock, please, please, can I?"

His wandering hand leaves your breast tragically untouched, but wraps around your throat, giving you one more perfect, dizzying piece of sensation.

"Come on this dick, baby," he urges, "Come on, come for me," and every bit of you that was holding out comes undone.

Your body convulses, pussy creaming around his thick cock, aftershocks of your orgasm pulsing and drawing out a low, deep groan from Joel as he holds you steady and works you through it.

Then he pulls out of you abruptly, the sudden emptiness shocking, until you can feel him pumping himself a couple of times before releasing his spend all over your ass.

The next few moments are a blur. He wipes up his cum with your panties and pockets them, then pulls your skirt back up. Zips up his jeans. Straightens your top. Unlocks the truck and helps you in.

Before you know it, you're buckled and he's leaning towards you, brushing a strand of hair back behind your ear.

He kisses you, soft and deep, his tongue gentle as it runs over your bottom lip, gently biting and nipping at you.

"Baby," he says, and you're thrown by the strain in his voice, "You know, if you ever-"

You frown as he struggles to find his words.

"If I'm ever- not enough. Not enough for you," he swallows, "I just-"

"No, Joel," you shake your head, "Not at all."

"I'm just sayin'. If I'm ever not enough for you, I don't want you to feel-" he shook his head, "Tethered to me."

"Never," you smile, and the way his face lights up just a little is enough to make you melt. "I'm glad to be yours. I want to be yours. Only yours."

You kiss him again, feeling him yield, surrender into your embrace.

"You're it for me, baby," you tell him, and it's true.

You see him smile, resting back into a semblance of comfort, of confidence.

As he drives you both home, you relax into the familiar rhythm of it.

You can still feel the stickiness of his cum on your skin and cherished it, a not-so-secret offering between the two of you. He's yours and you're his.

And you'll show him. Every day.

[fanaticsnail]

Perfection

Tobiuo Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,200+

Synopsis: Several members of the Heart, Kid, and Straw Hat pirates engage in a game of Poker. When Shachi runs out of Berry, he decides to bet something a little more interesting: Tobiuo's kiss.

Themes: Heat x Tobiuo, Canon x OC, gambling, drinking, kissing, yearning, unrequited love, infatuation, fascination, supernova trio crews, first kiss, they're so sheepish, fluff, swearing.

Notes: I am learning how to draw on my phone because I want to do some digital art. Always starting with a kiss, I just wanted to know more about why they were kissing like that. Calls back to this comic I did a while ago. 3rd person POV.

“Alright, which one of your crewmates has the weirdest mouth?” Shachi’s nasally crackle shot through the air, his drunken stupor propelling those around to laugh with him, “I'm outta Berry, so I gotta bet somethin’.” Penguin clapped a hand over Shachi's shoulder, leaning his forehead against his upper arm and hissing out a snort of laughter into it.

Killer was contemplative, leaning back in his seat and thinking on it. Going through a list of names of his crewmen, he finally settled on, “Heat. I think Heat has the weirdest mouth. Guy breathes fire, and he's got the ridges from the scar marks. Robin?”

“I'd say Brook, just because he has no flesh, nor tongue, but can still taste and consume food,” she hums in deep thought, meandering through her cards and sorting them from weakest to strongest suit. Shachi stifled his laughter, using his hands in a rough flurry to call to his crewmate from across the bay.

“Ours is Tobiuo. You gotta see her tongue and teeth, man,” Shachi admitted to the table, all ignoring the shouts and petulant competitions going on between Law, Luffy and Kid. Tobiuo released several soft huffs of laughter, soundlessly expressing her glee while nodding in confirmation with her red-headed crewmate. Killer tilted his head, narrowing his eyes beneath the mask to get a better glimpse of the inside of the fishwoman's mouth.

Arching her brows at his inquisition, she slunk back in her seat, lazily hooking her right thigh over her left knee and slinging her arm around the back of Penguin’s chair. Eyeing the mask-wearing man cautiously, she drew her tankard up to her lips and took a large sip of the amber liquid within.

“Why all the curiosity about mouths and Berry, Shachi?” Robin asked, regaining the tables attention and peeling their eyes away from Tobiuo's lips.

“I'm gonna bet Tobiuo’s lips for my wager. You up for it, Iyo?” he slurred his speech, lulling his head to the side and looking over his pointed sunglasses at her, “Gonna kiss the winner?” Tobiuo moved her hands in a rushed flurry, her lips pulling back into a tight-lipped snarl.

“Am I meant to be offended, or-…?”

“-No, no! Of course not,” Shachi interrupted the gestures, “Look, we all know what your lips feel like. You're an excellent kisser. I'd say they're worth…” he trailed off, creating an opening for another voice to air their thoughts.

“...Three Million Berry.”

Tobiuo choked on her drink, snapping her head over to the quieter voice at the end of the table.

Hiding behind a hand of cards, the slouched and bashful shoulders of the Kid-Pirate Fire-Breather softly shot his sunken eyes over the margin of the stack of cards. Tobiuo tilted her head to the side, fluttering her webbed hands hastily before tapping Penguin's arm with the heel of her palm.

“She's wondering why so much,” Penguin raised his arms defeatedly before translating properly, “Her exact phrase: ‘for that price, you could hire an escort to mess around with. Why her’?” Tobiuo nodded, waiting for his reply. Killer sat back in his seat, smugly looking between Heat and the Heart Pirates’ chief of security.

Killer had been the target to Heat’s confessions regarding his attraction to the fishwoman, often the source of many a migraine. Finally having an opening for conversation, he felt a weight leave him as Heat continued.

“I-... I, uh-…” Heat fumbled, his fluster rising in his cheeks and blooming the warmth in his chest. Killer’s migraine returned, prompting him to take action and rearrange his cards.

“That settles it, then,” Shachi confessed, looking between his pile of Berry, Nami, Robin, Killer, Penguin, Tobiuo, Wire, and Heat, “Opening bid, three million Berry. Anyone gonna call?” Tobiuo moved her hands and furrowed her brows, her two crewmates ignoring her protests and chastising words.

Before Heat had the ability to test his hand against Shachi's, to win the opportunity of a kiss from the Fishwoman, the blonde Kid-Pirate spoke up.

“I'll call you on your bullshit, Shachi,” Killer spoke up with his warm tone full of playfulness and jest.

“Jokes on you, blondie,” Shachi’s nasally crackle cut through the air, “I got 3 pretty ladies in my hand. Got something better than a three of a kind?” Shachi’s cocky grin looked greedily down at the pile of Berry on the table and back up to Killer.

“Actually I do,” his grin widened beneath his mask, his smile heard in his soothing baritone, “I've got a straight flush.”

“No,” Shachi whined, chucking his cards on the table in defeat, “And it was all going so well! I actually had a good hand this time!” Rather than consoling her crewmates of his loss, Tobiuo narrowed her milky-gaze at the mask-wearing man and tilted her chin up to assess him.

“Bets a bet. Pay up, Buttercup,” Killer rose to his feet, prompting Tobiuo to do the same. In two broad strides, she stood in front of him and folder her arms into one another. Killer snuck a look at his crewmate, Heat, who placed his cards face up on the lengthy table in front of him. A royal flush, a hand that would've landed him in Killer’s place if he spoke up.

“Don't be shy,” Killer uttered, elevating his right hand up and returning his attention to the seven foot Fishwoman. “Let me see,” he extended up his fingers towards her chin. Tobiuo narrowed her eyes, at him and released a puff of air from her lips before pouting them.

“Don't get all huffy with me, Missy,” he giggled, his shrill laugh causing her to become more at ease. Unlacing her arms, she allowed him to place his thumb and index finger on her chin and draw himself into her space. Offering a small hum of approval, he gently coaxed her face towards him.

Killer took a moment to appreciate being dwarfed by her great height, sparing another glance at his fire-breathing crewmates before directing her closer to his mask.

“Now say ‘ah’ for me, Tobiuo,” Killer moved his thumb up and gingerly toyed with Tobiuo’s bottom lip. Rolling her eyes, she parted her lips and revealed a sharp set of teeth. Each tooth was whittled naturally down into a sharp peak, her stalactite-shaped canines protruding from her upper and lower lips.

“Ohh… Pretty,” Killer hummed in thought, examining how interesting her uniqueness was in comparison to human anatomy while drawing his thumb away from her lip and down to her chin once more, “Now the tongue?” Tobiuo’s smirk rose up on the left hand side of her darker lips, lulling her tongue over and revealing the organ to him.

“Bloody hell-!” Killer exclaimed, pulling his hand away in shock at the length of the morsel. Divots, ridges, and pliant barbs were elevated over her palate. The tip of her tongue tapered off in a pointed end, extending far further than regular capacity.

Heat sat quietly by, his eyes widening and heart beating rapidly against the shell of his ribcage. Just when he thought he couldn't get more enamored with Trafalgar Law’s barbaric fighter, he swoons at the new light being shone on her otherworldly anatomy.

“Gonna show me what a three million Berry kiss is?” Killer goaded, prompting Tobiuo to retract her tongue back into her mouth and lean in closer to Killer. Reaching her webbed hand up to his mask, he shook his head and recoiled against her touch.

“Not on your life, Missy,” he shook his head and stepped fully away from her, “I don't take this off for just anyone. Not even for such a pretty reward as your lips, honey.” Tobiuo tilted her head to the side, furrowing her brows while fluttering her hands. Killer watched the motions, not truly understanding and looking over to Shachi or Penguin for translation.

“She's asking where you want her to kiss you, in not very appropriate language, I might add,” Penguin chuckled, prompting Shachi to wheeze. Killer shot his attention past the two Heart-Pirates towards the fire-breathing commander and curled his finger twice towards him.

“We were talking about Heat earlier,” Killer informed the gathering of allied troops at the poker table, “Can’t kiss me, but you can kiss one of the other commanders on my behalf.” The corset-wearing commander stepped closer to both Killer and Tobiuo, his eyes avoiding the milky-gaze of the security officer as she assessed his form.

She hadn't really thought much about the blue-haired Kid-Pirate, not truly experiencing a closeness like this with him to truly admire his features. Heat trailed his eyes up to her chin, hovering briefly on her lips before meeting her gaze with his own.

Fluttering her hands at him, Shachi, Penguin and, surprisingly, Wire, all released a cackle at her flurry. Heat shook his head, his lips parting as he tilted his chin towards the gathering without departing his eyes from hers.

“What are you-?” Heat asked his hairless eyebrows knitting together curiously, “Are you making fun of me?” Tobiuo slunk away, smiling with her lips tightly shut and a deep, purple blush rising to flood her cheeks and webbed ears. Heat chuckled, stepping forward more boldly now.

“Oh, I think you are making fun of me, Tobiuo,” Heat uttered in a deep rumble, causing her to take a step back and buckle her knees on the back of the bar island to the side of the poker table, “And what are you saying, hm? What's got them all giggly?” Weaving his legs within hers, he rose his right hand to cup her neck and tilted her head back. Hovering his lips over hers, he whispered gently over her sensitive skin.

Tobiuo’s brows rose, her gaze darting down to his lips and back up to his eyes in shock. Heat's thumb gently caressed the dips and elevations of scales against her skin, prompting Tobiuo’s breath to hitch and shudder. Heat made to tease the security officer a little more, but his over-eagerness to brush his lips with hers stilled that thought in a heartbeat.

Surging forward on his toes, he dwarfed the Fishwoman by looming his frame over hers, immediately meeting his lips with hers in a soft kiss. Closing his eyes, the tattooed Fire-Breather hummed into her lips in a soft moan, enjoying the warmth of her lips on his. Tobiuo's eyes remained open, examining the commander as he pressed his lips on hers with more intent and meaning.

Tobiuo was not unaccustomed to kissing for fun, many of her crew often got a peck on the forehead, a raspberry blown in their necks from behind, or a platonic oscillation if she was feeling exceptionally generous. But this? This was something entirely different.

Heat's lips ignited something in her that she hadn't felt before. Heart fluttering in her chest, she finally closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss. Webbed hands finding his hips, she drew him further into her lap and tilted her chin up to brush with his. Changing the angle, she parted her lips and prompted him to do the same. Just as her thumbs brushed against his dermal tri-hip piercings, Heat’s fingertips raked and carded through her hair to add depth to the kiss.

As his tongue finally met with hers, a small whimper caught itself in his throat at the ridges and flexible barbs coarsely grinding against his. Drunk on the feeling, his boldness halts as his bottom lip gets nicked on her sharp teeth.

“Ow-! Ouch-!” Heat hisses, tugging his body away from her and drawing his hand up to his bleeding lip. Tobiuo’s eyes widened in horror, her hand raised in a c-shaped cup and waving it in front of her lips. Her lip quivered, sharp lips chattering as she truly depicted her apologies for the bite.

“She's sorry, she's sorry,” Penguin translated for her, watching the flurry manically fluttering from her hands with her lips moving soundlessly, “‘It was a mistake. I'm so sorry, pretty boy. So much for a three million Berry kiss’.” Heat’s eyes widened, shaking his head and releasing his lip from his fingers. The softest trickle of red dribbled down his chin, doing nothing to calm Tobiuo’s hasty apologies from flying from her hands.

“...Pretty boy?” Heat blushed, his cheeks tinting with the softest shade of pink. Tobiuo stilled her hands, the same purple hue dusting her scaled features. “Is… Is that what you called me? ‘Pretty boy’?” Tobiuo sucked her lips into her mouth to halt her rising smile, prompting Heat to step towards her once more.

“I-... I think you're really pretty too, love,” he confessed in a barely audible whisper.

Killer hummed, slouching in his seat and offering his clenched fist towards Wire. The taller man clenched his own fist and tapped it against the balled fist of the first mate. The blonde was feeling rather pleased with himself, finally having Heat’s longing and infatuation momentarily satiated by a soft kiss from the security officer of his dreams.

Tobiuo felt her heart soar at his confession. Although, compared to the women present on the three vessels, she didn't feel she was all that much to look at. When her eyes met with Heat’s once more, she felt like the most beautiful creature that had ever lived. Offering him a little more of a grin, Heat released a whimsy sigh.

“Perfection.”

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Burning Hearts Chapter 6

Pairing: Law x Straw Hat Zoan Type (named) OC 

Summary: You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that you’ll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

**this chapter contains a brief scene of adult content! minors dni!**

Burning Hearts Chapter 6: A Difficult Return

— — 

It was around 3 in the morning when Law finally pushed open the reinforced door of the Heart Pirate’s base. He made sure to close the door behind him carefully, not wanting to alert his crew to his return just yet. He was exhausted and just wanted to fall into bed without any disturbances or questions from his excitable and curious crew. 

Law slunk quietly through the halls of the base and entered his office. Without flipping the lights on, Law lazily dropped his sword and backpack on his desk before retreating to his adjoining bedroom. He strips his shirt over his head, removing his hat as well in the process before letting them flop to his bedroom floor. He unbuckles his pants and steps out of them, leaving them splayed on the floor. Normally, Law was a tidy man, but today he just wanted to face plant into his pillow. 

And face plant he did. Not even bothering to get under the covers, Law flops onto the bed and immediately passes out… 

— — 

“Hnnnhhgg! Ah!” Daisy grunted and panted below him, hips squirming and bucking while she laid there accepting his cock greedily. 

“What’s that, Princess? You feel good?” Law huffs out while continuing his assault on her most sensitive bits. 

“Aaahh! Mmhmm!” Daisy nods feverishly and arches her back in pleasure. 

“Na uh, use your words. Tell daddy how much you love his cock.” Law commands with a punishing snap of his hips. 

“S’ so good, love it s’much!” Daisy’s eyes roll back in her head, a dumb grin on her face as she relishes in the feeling of coming apart. 

“Shit- Princess you’re squeeing me so tight… fuck I’m-“

Gone.

Law snaps awake in bed, covered in sweat on top of his comforter. His chest heaves. He notices a wet feeling in his boxers. As Law looks down at his lap, he sees the wet sticky evidence of having ejaculated in his sleep. 

Law sighs and flops backwards onto the bed. Why did this keep happening? What was causing this influx of erotic dreams… and why was it always her? She was a brat. They disagreed so much that he could barely stand to be in a room with her when they weren’t training… so why did she keep finding him in his dreams?

“Shit…” Law groans and rubs his tired eyes. Suddenly, his brow furrowed. “Why would I say that?”

Law cringes at the way he acted in his dream. Daddy? Princess? Who the hell did he think he was? He would never treat someone like that. Not like he’s ever had the opportunity to anyway…

Shaking himself from the dream, Law decides a cold shower would help him clear his head. He throws on some clothes to make his way to the bathroom. He steps into his office and makes his way to the door… but something catches his eye. A large green plant was next to his desk in a painted white pot with black spots. 

This wasn’t his. Someone had been in his office while he was gone. He had left all his letters and private papers from the Marines out on his desk, trusting his crew to follow the instructions to not enter his office. Law sees red. 

— — 

You whistle along to the music coming from the record player as you finish up breakfast. Your red jumpsuit hung lazily off one shoulder and you had your hair braided with some orange tulip buds in it. 

“Chow time, losers!” You shout as you place the platter of French toast in the middle of the dining table. The crew files into the galley as you finish setting up the table with orange juice and butter. “Last loaf of bread before your captain comes home, you better enjoy it!” You smile and pour syrup on the pile of French toast. 

“I’ll take seconds now, then!” Penguin grinned as he piled extra slices onto his plate. 

You smiled and mussed his cap playfully. 

“Eat up, buttercup.” You take off your apron (which was massively huge since you were borrowing it from Bepo) and hang it up on the side of the fridge. “You guys can rock, paper, scissors for dish duty. I have work to do in the garden oh-!”

Law bursts into the galley carrying a potted plant in one hand, pot hanging on by a thread. 

“Captain! You’re back! We missed you!” Bepo says as he stands from the table. 

“What the hell is this?” Law huffs out. 

“A ficus.” You cross your arms and lean against the fridge. 

“I know what it fucking is, I’m asking why the fuck is it in my office?” Law shakes the poor plant in frustration. 

“Every doctor’s office has a ficus. Good for the air quality.” You reply, casually gesturing to the air on front of you with one hand. 

“Why the fuck would you think you can go into my office without permission? And what the hell are you wearing? You look like a clown.” Law spits. 

“And you wear that crusty hat every day. Sorry if I’m not offended that you don’t like my outfit.” You chuckle. 

“You think this is funny? You come into my base and accept my training, and this is what I have to deal with?” Law angrily gestures at both the French toast on the table and the fresh green trumpet vine you hung from the rafters to make the space more homey. “I’m doing your captain a favor and you’re fucking ungrateful! And is that Cora’s record player?! Who fucking told you that you could touch that?” Law continued his verbal assault on you without signs of stopping. 

Your arms drop. Your brows knit together and your mouth tightens into a fine line. Law doesn’t notice your change in demeanor. 

“This isn’t your doll’s fucking dream house! This is my pirate base!” Law shouts at you and drops the plant to the kitchen floor, causing the pot to shatter. 

You gasp instinctively, bringing your hands to your chest. The only sound in the room was from the record player that was still spinning.

“Captain please… she was just being nice…” Bepo quietly tries to plea with his captain. 

“I don’t care. My base, my rules and while-“ Law replies but you interrupt him. 

“I… I painted that myself…” You stare at the broken pot on the floor, pieces littered between piles of dirt. You look back up at Law. 

“Fuck you.” You huff out with tears in your eyes. The grey smoke beginning to billow from your nose wasn’t lost on you, Law, or anyone else in the room. Feeling that you were close to losing yourself again, you storm off to your room and lock the door behind you. You slide down against the door until your body was seated on the cold metal floor. You bring your hands to your face and sob. 

— — 

*knock knock knock knock* 

“I’m busy” Law says without looking up from the medical journal on his desk. The door opens anyway. Ikkaku storms in with a bag in hand and comes right up to him. She drops the bag on the desk and gestures at it. 

“I cleaned up the mess you made during your tantrum.” She cocks her head angrily. She doesn’t give Law time to respond. “Why the hell are you so mean to that poor girl?” She asks. 

“That poor girl is stubborn and disobedient and she should learn that her actions have consequences. She won’t get stronger if we hold her hand the whole way.” Law looks back down at his medical journal.

“There’s a lot of room between holding her hand and whatever the hell you’re doing. And disobedient? What is she, a golden retriever? She’s a grown woman, Law. She just lost all her friends, has no idea where they are and is stuck here for 2 years with an asshole like you screaming at her. You expect her to hang on your every word? You need to get real. It’s not her fault that you can’t control yourself around her.” 

“And what exactly do you mean by that, Ikkaku?” Law seethed. “And if I were you, I would choose my words very carefully.” Law leaned forward in his chair. 

Ikkaku sighs. 

“What I’m saying is. It’s clear you’re having some… very big feelings about this girl. I don’t know what they are, all I know is you’re being a proper dick because you won’t deal with those feelings. I just think you should give her some grace.” 

“And I think you’re way out of line. Get out of my office, I have work to do.” Lap snaps. 

“Yes Captain.” Ikkaku resigns and leaves Law alone to brood. 

As the door shuts behind Ikkaku, Law closes the medical journal on his desk. He rests his heads in his hands and sighs. Maybe he did fly off the handle about the houseplant… but how else was she going to learn to take things seriously? 

Her carefree nature was so diametrically opposed to his own. It made his blood boil that she refused to take anything seriously, always flitting about and laughing when she made a mistake during training. Every time he reprimanded her, she would flash that cute smile and tell him to “loosen up, will ya? We’ve got 2 years.” 

*Cute?* No, wait. She wasn’t cute. He didn’t think that. She was annoying. Not cute.

Gods, he hated how much she reminded him of someone he used to know… 

— — 

For the third day in a row, Daisy had skipped their training session. Each morning, Law went to the clearing and waited. Waited for something that never came. As the sun set over the tree line, Law returned back to the base. Another wasted day. Frustrated, Law enters his office and flops down into the large leather chair in the middle of the room. His gaze falls upon the bag Ikkaku left on his desk days ago. He rises from the chair and approaches his desk. 

He unties the cinch around the top of the bag and empties it out onto his desk. The bag contained a dead ficus, a handful of dirt, and the broken pieces of the painted clay pot. Law carefully picks the shattered pieces out from the dirty mess and holds one in his hand. 

It was white with black spots. It matched his hat. She had obviously painted this specifically for his office. 

Law sighed. He reached to the side of his desk and opened a drawer. Law sifted through the drawer’s contents for a few moments before retrieving a small bottle of superglue… 

— — 

You were folding your clean laundry on your bed when a knock came at your door. You had spent the past several days since Law’s blowup in your room by yourself, leaving only in the very early hours of the morning to train alone and to tend the garden. 

“I’m not coming to dinner, I’ll eat later!” You yell towards the door. 

“It’s me. Can I come in?” 

You freeze upon hearing Law’s deep voice on the other side of your stateroom door. You hadn’t seen or spoken to the doctor since he berated you in front of his entire crew. 

“Ok.” You call out. 

The door opens slowly and Law enters, closing it behind him. He was carrying something under his arm. Upon closer inspection you see that it was the planter that he had broken on the kitchen floor, however now it was all in one piece again. 

“You’ve been skipping training.” Law states. 

“I’ve been training. Just not with you.” You cross your arms over your chest. “So are you here to yell at me again, or did you need something else?” 

Law swallows nervously. 

“I am here to apologize.” 

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. 

“Oh?” You cock your head. 

“I behaved selfishly. I wasn’t considering anyone but myself.” Law struggles to maintain eye contact with you, gaze shifting from your face to the floor. “You did something kind for me and I… I don’t always receive things like that well…” 

“Clearly.” You reply. 

“Maybe that was an understatement… Regardless, I am sorry I acted the way that I did and I hope that we can continue our training.”

There was a silence.

“Thank you for apologizing. I’ll keep training with you, Law, but if you ever and I mean EVER, treat me like that again I am done here.” You firmly state as you point at him accusingly. 

“I understand.” Law holds the plant pot out towards you. For a surgeon, he did a really shitty job trying to glue it back together. Couldn’t he have just ‘shambles’ed the pieces back into place? This looks like he did it by hand. “I… I couldn’t save the plant…” 

You walk towards him and grab the pot out of his hands. Your right hand grazed his left briefly and Law inhaled sharply. 

“It’s ok, I’ve got a few more in the garden. I’ll keep it out there then.” You turn to place the pot on your desk. 

“No-“

You turn around with a questioning look.

“I… I’d like another one. Good for air quality, you said…” 

You smirk. 

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll bring it by tomorrow evening after training.” 

“Right. I will see you tomorrow then.” Law nods and awkwardly shuffles out of your stateroom. 

*what a strange little guy…* you think to yourself.

xx 

[ozwriterchick]

A Joe Burrow Story...

A/Note: My first RPF, well the first I've published. I normally write Marvel (Steve, Bucky, Sam) but decided to try my hand at something a little different.

I hope you like it, if you do, please like, reblog and leave me some feedback (kindly would be appreciated..)

Fic inspired by @burreaux-drys - thank you for your amazing writing, even if it is "all over the place"

I do not own the characters in this story except the OFC/OC characters mentioned.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, translated or in any other way taken/stolen.

Characters: Joe Burrow; OFC!Reader; OC!Readers Best Friend; Mentions of other Bengal players; OC Bengal team members (kind of)

Warnings: Mentions of stalking; Shy reader; Police; that's about it except Joe Burrow I think deserves his own warning (in a good way); Not Beta'd so any mistakes are my own

W/C: 2748

Reader’s pov

I watched the players on the field, easily singling out the one I’d come to see.  It really wasn’t that difficult, he stood out with his mop of dirty blonde hair and the number 9 on his jersey.

My eyes roved down his body to his slim but manly hips and back up again to his broad shoulders, made even broader by the padding in his practice uniform.

He was looking good, but again, he always did, especially to me.  I’ve been in love with him for a while, always from afar, and he had no idea.  Maybe today would be the day I’d get up enough gumption to actually tell him.

This was a closed practice, but that never stopped me before.  There were plenty of ways to sneak into Paycor stadium, even when it was on lockdown, if you knew what you were doing.  And I did.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I took my attention away from practice to check.

BFF: Where are you? I’m at your place

Me: Oh, I’m out running errands, sorry.

BFF: Tell the truth, you’re at practice ogling J again aren’t you?

Me: Maybe.. Maybe not.. I can neither confirm nor deny that accusation

BFF: Well then, I’ll join you, I need to see me some Sam.

Me: It’s almost over and it’s a closed practice today, so you won’t be able to get in.

BFF: Closed practice?

BFF: They don’t let anyone into closed practices, how did.. You know what, I dno’t want to know.  Let me know when you’re home. Unless you and J are doing something after practice

Me: Will do. Love you xx

BFF: Love you too xx

As you slipped your phone back into your pocket you realised that practice was over for the day.  You slunk back into the shadows as a couple of the players and officials looked up towards where you had been sitting.  Regardless of anything else, you shouldn’t have been there and you didn’t really want to get caught and banned.

Making your way back to your car you see a line of fans waiting for the players to come out of training.  You chuckle to yourself that they clearly don’t know the tricks that you did.

For a moment you contemplate joining them, you have something you want to give to Joe, but decide maybe next time would be a better option and you jump into the car and head home.

Later that day.. Back at Paycor Stadium - Joe’s pov

I have a stalker.  There’s no getting around it any more.

I’m sitting in Coach’s office with the cops and Zac, admitting for the first time that somebody is stalking me.  I knew it all along really, but just didn’t want to admit the ’s’ word to myself.  I figured it was just an overzealous fan and that it would be ok.

Things were left on my car at training, when I was at the gym, even when I was at the grocery store but today, I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

After practice I signed some autographs and took some pictures with the fans who’d j for me.  I love my fans and I love interacting with them - for the most part.  Every fan group has those ones who are a bit.. umm, crazier than others.  Fans that would do anything to get closer to their idols.  Not that I consider myself an idol, but I know with my position and public persona, that I’m as much a likely target for the crazies as anyone else.

“So, Joe” the Detective said “Tell us exactly what happened today to make you finally call us”

“Well, I left training and headed to the grocery store.  While I was there, I took a couple of pictures with some fans, nothing major.  When I came out to my car, there were flowers on the hood and something under the windscreen wipers.”

“And this is what was under the wipers?” The Detective asked, holding up the piece of paper that had been on my window.

I nodded, and continued.  “I didn’t really think a lot of it, I just grabbed the flowers and the note and tossed them into the front seat.  Once I got home though, I wasn’t quite so sure this was an innocent interaction.”

“And why do you say that?  Joe, if we are going to find this and make sure nothing happens, we need every piece of information you have.”

“Of course detective.  Well, I got home and parked in my garage and as I got out of the car, something just felt off.  The door between the garage and the house was open but I swear I closed it before I left.  I kinda shrugged it off at first, thinking maybe my Mum had been around, or the cleaner had come even though they weren’t due for a couple of days.”

“But that wasn’t the case?”

“Well, no, once I got inside I realised some things had been moved around and then I saw the note on my kitchen bench.”

“And this is the note you found inside your house?”

I couldn’t bring myself to look at it or read it again so I just nodded and looked down at my hands in my lap.

“Joe, we need to get ahead of this” Coach said. “Detective, do you think we should do a press conference and alert the public to keep an eye out?  I’m sure this person has been around training/practice and the stadium, probably coming to game days when we play here.”

“Let’s just wait it out for now, we don’t want to scare the stalker off and not be able to find them, or worse, have them escalate their behaviour into something dangerous.”

I feel like all I can do is nod, once again.  I just never pictured myself in this situation.

There was a knock on Zac’s office door and one of the admin staff came in with a folder and handed it to Zac, whispering something to him.  I saw his eyes go wide and then he looked down at the folder.

“Ummm, detective, we may have some more information that could shed some light on this case.  We video every practice/training session and these are some stills from today’s practice that might be very interesting.”

Zac hands the folder to the detective as I sit up a bit straighter in my chair, curious about what they could have found from today’s video, given it was a closed practice, meaning nobody was able to come in and watch.

The detective opened the folder and examined the pictures closely and then handed them to me.

“What am I looking at?” I asked.

“Apparently someone was in the bleachers today during practice.  Detective, this was a closed practice today which means that this person has snuck in and possibly could be the person you are looking for.”

I peered closer at the photos.  They were grainy, a bit blurry, you couldn’t really see who it was.  It did look like a female but who could really tell.  I’m sure the police had ways of making the image a bit sharper and maybe getting some identifying details.

The police thanked Zac and I and made their way out with suggestions to beef up my security at home and at the stadium and to also be very aware of my surroundings at all times.  They didn’t think, if this person who snuck into practice today was my stalker that they posed too much danger, but you never know.

I sat for a bit longer with Zac, talking out what was happening because the only other people I could talk to at the moment were my family and my teammates and I didn’t really want to worry either group until we knew more.

On the way home, I rang my security company who agreed to schedule more regular patrols around and near my place and also to ramp up the security footage around the outside of my home.

I hated that I have to do this but I guess my safety should be number one to me and I know my Mum would kill me if she knew about this and I didn’t take these extra precautions.  It all just felt so limiting.

1 week later - Reader’s pov

I haven’t been back to Paycor.  Almost getting caught in the stadium made me back off a little bit, I didn’t want to get into trouble and be banned from practice or games in general.

I’d been following Joe and the Bengals activity on social media but it just felt so impersonal, that I was itching to get back to practice.  Actually Joe didn’t seem very active on socials the past week and most of the Bengals feed had focused on Tee, Sam and a few of the other players.  All great players but Joe was their franchise player, the top QB in the league and they should be showcasing him whenever they can.

It made me wonder what had happened in the last week.  

After I left training I headed to the grocery store to get some supplies, as my best friend was coming over after work that night for a movie night.  As I was leaving I saw Joe entering the store.  I knew he shopped here but I had never actually run into him and I just smiled at him as I walked out of the store to my car.

He has a very distinctive car and it was parked next to mine so I took a moment to admire it before I loaded my bags into the back seat and headed home again.

Later that night when my friend arrived she had some very interesting news.

“Girl, Joe Burrow has a stalker!”

“What?  I mean, how do you know this?”

“I heard some of the detectives at work today talking about it.  Apparently someone left some things on his car at the grocery store this afternoon and after he got home, someone had broken into his house and left him some kind of note - I don’t know what it said but they are beefing up security at his house.  This is huge.”

“Why haven’t they said anything about it though?”

“Well, they probably don’t want the person escalating to even more dangerous behaviour, although they may be too late for that if whoever it is has already been inside his actual house.”

That conversation has stayed with me, to be honest.  I couldn’t imagine how scared Joe must have been to go to the police about it all.

Today I was heading back to practice.  This one was open but I thought I’d stay in the background anyway, amongst the other fans and not up front like I usually try to be.  Fate, as it seemed, had other plans.

As practice was finishing, a surge in the people there pushed me towards the side of the crowd, closer to where the players exited the field.  As Joe walked past he looked at me and smiled and did a double take.  Did he recognise me?  Is he curious of who I am?

I decided to make a quiet retreat and wait outside for him and hopefully get the balls to talk to him, or give him the gift I had for him.

A few of the players dribbled out of the stadium towards their cars, all stopping to sign autographs and take pictures with the fans.  

Joe’s pov

I walked out of the stadium towards my car and it always fascinates me how many people stay after practice to talk to, take photos with and get autographs from the players.  I still struggle to understand that some of them are here exclusively to see me.  

Given recent events however, it makes me more cautious as well, and I hate that because I love giving back to my fans.

As I went along the line of fans, I saw one at the back who looked kind of familiar.  I waved her over and said “Do I know you, you look very familiar?”

“Oh, umm, you don’t know me” she said quite shyly. “We bumped into each other at the grocery store last week.”

“Oh yeah, well it’s nice to meet you, did you want a picture?”

“Uh, sure” she replied and got her phone out.

We took a couple of selfies and then she quietly said “I have something for you” and as she reached into her bag I got really nervous.  Maybe this was my stalker.  Now that I think of it, she’s at training a lot, and yes I did see her at my grocery store just before that stuff was on my car.

I nervously looked around for security and mumbled some excuse about forgetting something and sprinted back into the stadium and straight to Zac’s office.

Reader’s pov

I can’t believe it, I finally got the time, opportunity and guts to talk to Joe and he ran off.  I started to put the drawing I’d done of him back in my backpack when I looked up and saw security coming towards me.

I quickly walked towards my car and managed to get in and drive away before they got to me.  I hope they didn’t catch my licence plate and haul me in for questioning.  Just my luck I’d get in trouble because of an innocent meeting at the grocery store.

Maybe this was my sign to just find a new hobby?

Another week later - Joe’s pov

Once again, I’m sitting in Coach’s office with the detectives who this time have some good news.

“We’ve made an arrest” the detective told us.

I breathed a sigh of relief that this was over “That was quick, how did you get a break so fast?”

“Well, it all came down to the fans.  Those at practice helped us out with some info, and your observations also  gave us some insight.  We tracked the person down and an arrest was made this morning.  We have some pretty tight proof, so you may not even have to testify, but if you do, we can probably put them away for a few years.  At the least, you can get a restraining order that prevents them from coming near your house, or the stadium, or generally within about 500metres of wherever you are.”

“Thanks detective, I'm so relieved” I said.  “Did they happen to say why they did it?”

“Just a big fan, a bit lonely and wanted to be closer to you but just went about it the wrong way.  Kinda feel sorry for them, but you know, we can’t let emotion into it, otherwise we’d never catch anyone.”

“Well, thanks again detective” Zac said “We are more than grateful for your speedy resolution to this issue.”

1 year later - Reader’s pov

I walked into the lounge room and smiled, I couldn’t believe I was here.  The misunderstanding from 12 months ago led to a beautiful friendship between me and Joe.  I got over all my nerves with him and we were now able to laugh and joke about the situation.

The police did clock my licence plate that day at training, and they did come to my house and question me about the stalking.  I didn’t hold anything against Joe for thinking it could be me, I was awkward and nervous and shy whenever he was around and he obviously just didn’t see my vulnerability.

But at the next training session, he saw me again and came to talk to me.  He asked me if he and I could have a conversation over coffee, so we went and he told me they’d arrested his stalker and he apologised profusely for thinking it could be me.

He said that when I’d told him I had something for him and reached into my bag, he freaked out and just left.

I laughed and told him that I’d drawn him a picture and I’d love for him to have it if he wanted it.

We chatted for a while longer and then went separate ways.  We’d swapped numbers so that I could arrange to give him the picture and we ended up texting back and forth most days.

I’m not sure if anything will come of this but a good friendship but you never know…

[nerdybluephoenix]

Aliens meet a cat. Cat does not like them at all

I'm gonna answer this prompt with my usual ocs, because it gives me an excuse to redraw some old artwork I made in 2020

New version:

I might finish this drawing another time. Old artwork at the bottom of the post.

///

Captain Evek stepped into the room. Inside, two of her crew members were hunched around an open cage. The human, Constance, was cooing at whatever was inside. Evek could hear a horrible hissing noise inside followed by a low growl.

“I’m sorry - this is the animal you’ve been comparing me to?” Tix, the other crew member, did not look pleased. “It looks nothing like me.”

“What did you drag on my ship this time?” Both crew members looked up at the captain.

“Evek!” Constance happily waved her over. “Look what I found! It’s a cat!” Evek stayed rooted where she stood. She wasn’t going to step closer to some creature making clear warning noises like that.

“...remind me what a cat is?” Evek said. She thought over Tix’s words and her face scrunched up in amusement. “Oh, is it the Earth creature you say looks like Tix?”

“It does not look like-”

“It looks exactly like you!”

Now Evek was curious enough to step closer. If at least cautiously. She got down on her knees to get a better angle at whatever was inside. It was hard to make out with the poor lighting, but it seemed to be a ball of fluff.

“I can’t see it very well,” Evek admitted. “Why is this thing on my ship?”

“I found her. On the ship,” Constance said. “I think she snuck on after our last stop. I can’t believe humans are losing their pets in space already.”

“Are cats dangerous?” Evek said. On the firm “no” from Constance, Evek made up her mind to step over and gently tilt the cage so the cat slid out.

“Wait! You really shouldn’t do that!” Constance said. 

It was too late. Upon being slid out of the cage, the animal popped to life like a firecracker. It flailed about the room, bounced off on walls, and knocked several items over. Tix fled underneath a table and let out a low growl that was much like the cat’s warning sounds. This only spurred the small thing more and it continued to wreak havoc until it finally clamored up a wall and onto a bookshelf. Constance cursed.

“Sorry, I just wanted a better look,” Evek said. She stood to look around the torn apart room then up at the creature on the shelf. From Evek’s height, the cat sat perfectly eye level. She stepped closer. It hissed. “Tix, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Constance is right. It looks a lot like you.”

“It does not,” Tix said from under the table.

“How do we get in back in the cage?” Evek said.

“Carrier,” Constance corrected. “And I have no idea.” She picked up the carrier and brought it closer to the shelf. The cat slunk away until she sat herself between a corner.

“She’s trapped now. Why don’t I just…?” Evek stepped forward and snatched the cat up in two hands. Much like before, the cat burst into panic. Captain Evek held the animal out as it bit and clawed at any skin it could reach. Okay, ow! “I thought you said it wasn’t dangerous?”

“As in, won’t kill you,” Constance said. “You should put her down.” She tried, but trying to place the cat back onto the shelf ended with more flailing and biting. Evek was stuck in an awkward position where if she wasn’t careful, she could drop the cat.

Maybe from exhaustion, the cat suddenly froze in Evek’s hands. It seemed to be glaring at Evek. Judgment practically seeped out of it. She could feel it’s little heartbeat running rapidly in its chest.

“Aww!” Constance cooed. She brought he carrier over and quickly scooped up the animal and closed the door. “She likes you!”

“That doesn’t even begin to be true,” Evek said. She rubbed at her hands, now covered in bite marks and scratches. “I’d like to get that animal dropped off at our next stop. Maybe we’ll find a human who wants it.”

“N’aww, but I kinda want her,” Constance said. She placed the carrier on the table. The cat was curled up in the back again.

“You already have Tix,” Evek said.

Tix came out from under the table to jump on top of it instead. His ears were back and his tail flicked in clear annoyance.

“I am not a cat!”

/// Old Art Under the Cut ///

[hugsohugs]

King The Slunk

(context: i'm replaying miitopia and assigned slunk as the king, and as soon as i saw these consecutive dialogues i dropped everything to draw this)

[donksodonks]

shhh...hes sleeping

[fangbangerghoul]

W I P W E D N E S D A Y S

Hello one and all and welcome to my wip wednesday post.

I've been jumping back and forth between a few wips but the one I am sharing below has been calling to me more than the others recently.

(gif credit to @bearlytolerant)

I saw a character authority post the other day and it inspired me to make sure the word was out for Delgado lovers. I have my own Delgado Masterpost that will have more added to it soon.

tagging for wip wed and adding fic recs:

the grandfather of Delgado content:

@spookyspecterino ao3 Check out the fic that inspired Fleeting Pleasures and my unending obsession for the Pirate King: New You also 100% suggested Pieces of Me, Locked Away

the muse of Delgado content:

@bearlytolerant ao3 Not only does she take the best screenshots but she has an amazing series called Split Skin. Not only does it has delicious Delgado content but that was where my favorite OC of hers Valentine Blanche was born.

Even more Delgado enjoyers/writers:

@staticpallour - ao3 Renegade Hearts (on hiatus but worth the read): Starborn choosing a different path with Delgado (she also writes incredible OCxHadrian fic) @toxiclizardwrites - ao3 Love and Rage : Based on the UC SYSDEF quest with a bit of drama (lots of del content on their Ao3) @atonalginger - ao3 The Ranger and the Deputy : Delgado in an AU, "dirty cop" vibes (if long format is for you, they got it)

“Fuck you.” She hissed as she faced him, she noticed how he was leaning in to steal her lips. For her amusement she slipped from him with the smoothness of a cat and continued into the open doorway. She heard him curse under his breath at her impulsiveness before she was 3 steps ahead. His irritation fueled her in a special way. There was something about it that was addictive. Ghoul steps were soft and barely made a patter as she slinked into the room. The occupants had yet to notice her presence even as they talked amongst themselves aware of enemies on their ship and the fact their ship was in disrepair.

Ghoul decided to use the surprise to her advantage before Delgado ruined it. She braced herself before using her left foot to launch herself from a seat and into the air. Her body vulnerable, flying towards the enemy. She landed on the closest of the four and chaos ensued. There were sounds of shots being fired, grunts, shouts, and weak threats as she swung the body over her as she hit the floor with them. The man above her was heavier than she anticipated but she did not let that stop her from using them as a human shield. One of her hands freed and unsheathed a blade to slit his throat before she threw it at the man that was furthest from her. There was a rip at her green tasseled hair as all four were focused on her. Once it seemed they stopped firing shots she used her legs to propel the dying body off from her and sending it away to trip up whoever was in its path.

Ghoul’s side burned and her thigh felt a shatter of pain as one of the men managed a few blows. She elicited a growl and as she pushed herself up the one who ripped at her hair had his arm around her throat before she stood. The constriction around her throat made her insides burn with fury and lack of oxygen. Her hands grabbed for the man’s arm that was around her throat and with precise movement she used his weight to flip him forward. The strain in her own arms stinging silently. He groaned and before the other could come after her again there was a loud bang and the man slunk to the ground, dead. Delgado was now in the room firing shots at those who still moved. Ghoul had successfully distracted them, so they did not expect the Crimson Fleet leader to appear with vengeance.

Everyone was subdued within minutes and even though she was still on the ground her breathing was heavy, feeling the weight of the lack of oxygen on the ship. Ghoul’s head felt light and dizzy, and it took her longer than she cared to realign herself. During this small moment her eyes were closed and once they opened a gloved hand was reaching out towards her. Her eyes stared at the hand and then up into the pirate’s syrup eyes before deciding to give in to his offer. She gripped it with might and as he lifted her up, she felt the tenderness in the pressure he returned. Though they had successfully taken out the last of the passengers, Delgado’s nostrils were flaring.

Last night this chapter was published! Feel free to check out the rest the series on Ao3! Heavy Metal Lover. Chapter 1: Metal Coffin WC: 2762 Ghoul and Delgado are back! Ghoul is stealthy, aggressive, indulgent, and stubborn as hell. Delgado is rough, creative, intimidating, and a manipulative Crimson Fleet leader. These chapters will be windows into Ghoul's Crimson Fleet life if the ending of Fleeting Pleasures never happened.

[pursuitseternal]

“Thickening:” spicy morning after for Astarion x Cordehlia (f!oc) in “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x F!OC | E | 3.6K morning after smut

Summary: Cordehlia wakes the next morning for another bout of eager Vampire between her legs, and as they return, the camp reacts.

CW: a hint of somnophilia, oral sex, flirtatious banter, sweet little hand-holding, camp reactions, jealous!Gale, and a journey to the Underdark underway.

Previous chapter | Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Chapter 7: “Thickening”

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️

Cordehlia woke shivering, not just from the cold dawn breeze. Something wet lapped between her thighs, gentle and deliberate, licking through her drenched seam. Shifting, she spread her legs wider, making more room for those all-too-familiar arms to curl behind her knees. As if she wasn’t already wet and slick enough from the three times they had coupled during the night… she smiled anyway, breathing a sigh, a noise of pure bliss as he swirled his tongue over her clit to great effect.

Astarion chuckled, low and deep and delighted at her body’s response, his fangs catching slightly on her folds as he smiled. He was beyond happy. Beyond filled. Even as his hunger for blood gnawed at his belly, his body finally felt warm, if only in his mind. Warm, relaxed, sated.

Cordehila scratched her fingers into his hair, no words from her mouth. Only the little mewls and breaths she sighed louder the closer he pushed her into climax. Waves rippled down her spine with each suck and swirl he made. Gods, for all the times he had tasted her, little ways they had joined before, the explorations of one another in their foolish youth… he was never this good.

She would bite her tongue and never complain over this, she giggled.

Long and cold and crooking, he slipped his fingers deep inside her clenching walls. Pumping them in and out and teasing whatever other pleasures he could from inside her.

Already so swollen, so wet and aching, it was more than enough to throw her back into orgasm. Her thighs clenched hard around his head, squeezing and trembling as she lost all control. The world around her blurred, her vision speckled with stars, her jaw clenching shut to keep the keening cries quiet in the silent dawn.

Those dexterous fingers, that eager tongue, he kept them gently pleasuring her until her body relaxed, limp and hot against the ground.

Then and only then, he looked up. “Good morning,” he purred, stroking his hands over her legs as he eased them back down.

Cordehlia only gave a deep, contented sigh in reply, a soft shake of her messy red hair as he slunk his body to lay beside her.

“I figured that you could use one more before we have to head back to join…” he grimaced in petty disgust, “the others.”

“You have to be cautious doing that, Astarion, my love,” she finally found her voice, quiet and thick as it was. “Do you know how many enemies of mine have had their necks snapped between these thighs in battle?”

His face lit up like she had offered him the most delicious of sweets, eyes wide and handsome features lifting in delight. “Hundreds? Thousands?” he nearly stuttered excitedly. “As if I couldn’t adore your body any more than I already do, my fearsome darling.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything,” she smirked, withholding her full smile and laughter even as it pained her. “I doubt if we begin again, it would go unnoticed this time.”

“Oh please,” he quirked his brows and licked his lips, “given the noise you made, I’m sure they already know…”

“And what about the noise you made, hmm?” she let that smirk spread, grabbing right for his softened cock, softly holding his balls as he groaned. Feeling it twitching back to life, she craned her head in for a kiss.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, darling…” he rasped into her kiss. “But I think if that is your wish, I will need an extra little something on my tongue to keep me going…”

“Blood, you mean,” she feigned an irritated grumble, craning her neck, tempting him with that pale skin already punctured and marked fresh from the night.

He ran his tongue over the artery beneath that beautiful alabaster flesh. “My dear, nothing gets me harder than the taste of you, each and every time… so quickly too.” Pressing his lips over the recent wounds, he sucked gently. A groan sounding from her mouth. “Why, would you like a demonstration, with that hand of yours still holding my…”

“Shut up and suck, if you’re hungry,” she managed to say, a wriggle of her body beside him more as he pressed his lips closer. “But we really better be going…”

Asrarion lapped, just sucking enough to make those two little bite marks begin to bleed once more.

“But whatever happens, we are returning to the camp before every single person awakes to watch us walking back disheveled and…”

“Properly fucked?” he whispered between deafening sucks on her neck.

“Yes,” Cordehlia giggled. “Very properly fucked.” His cock stiffened in her hand, her fingers almost feeling the flow of her blood filling him in every vein, hardening his whole body, even as that length twitched to life.

“Sure you don’t think you’re a bit shy yet from properly fucked?” he asked, so slyly, so eagerly as he raised his bloodied lips from her again. A little thrust of his erection against her hand was to just add that little extra level of persuasion.

And Cordehlia just gave a low chuckle, gripping his length in that hand for a few little teasing strokes. “Mmm, perhaps better to leave you wanting so you’ll have a reason to invite me for another visit to your bed tonight….”

“Or perhaps I would be ever so more eager if you give in to me just once more, darling,” he purred right into her ear, letting the brush of his lips and the whisper of his breath tickle her.

Her moan, the way she twisted beneath him made him smile; she was giving in, that resolute little warrior melting away as her hand began working all the more attentively on his cock. The sweep of her thumb over his seeping slit sent a jolt through his body, his hips grinding into her hold.

Suddenly, she shifted beside him, scooting across the ground, sliding down his body, a mischievous grin on her perfect lips. “Since you’ve woken me with that talented mouth of yours, seems only fair I attempt to return the favor,” she rasped, a kiss against his belly, hands splayed on his hips to push him above her.

“I’ll admit,” he replied, a shiver of anticipation down his body, “I’m not always one for fairness, but this, I’ll enjoy…”

Cordehlia laughed, “Whatever pleases you, my love.” And with that, she softly licked the seed already dripping into the earth. That bitter tang, she had missed it. Not that she had tasted it since last they had…. Well, she tried not to let her fear make her stumble over her inexperience. Closing her eyes, she just savored him, the way his skin was oh so smooth… every little jab and twitch he made inside the heat of her mouth…

And then, he thrusted. Her throat closed around his length, making her swallow. A little gag around his cock.

It made him groan at the contact and pressure.

This time, she was ready, taking him in as deep as she could, pursing her lips around that long, veiny length. Giving him something to take pleasure in. “So good,” he rasped between his groans, “Gods, Cordehlia.” His body began to shake, his cock thickening the more he thrust into that entrancing warm wet.

She gave a laugh, the little extra vibrations of her voice running along her tongue as she swirled it along that little groove as he pumped in and out.

“You keep that up,” he groaned, leaning down to watch how she took him in her lips, “and you’ll return to camp with me already having broken your fast. A full belly, darling.”

She laughed again, wrapping her hand around what couldn’t fit inside, slowly stroking him. With a long, hard suck, she popped off his head, keeping her fist deliciously tight. “You’re one to accuse me of hunger, my love.”

Oh, he was close, her taunting enough to push him at last, one more time in the dawn. That warm, teasing damp of her mouth taking him back in, it consumed him, flooding him with that release, his body hitching, groaning, spasming until he filled her mouth and throat with his seed. But even more delicious was the feeling of her throat rippling, swallowing him down. Her tongue licking every last little pulse and squirt of his cum until he was empty. That beat of familiarity humming through him, body, mind and soul, once more.

“Feels… divine…” Astarion finally gasped enough air to speak. “Familiar again.”

He shifted to lay beside her, fixated by her smiling lips and bright eyes.

“Well,” she grinned, secretive and proud, the cat that ate the canary. Or the one who guzzled down her love’s spew. “Considering it was one of the first ways we came to… how would you put it… indulge one another? I’m not surprised it feels familiar.” Her fingers wiped the corner of her mouth. “I probably swallowed you down more than I had my first drinks of fairy wine by the time we were to be…”

Married, she choked on the unspoken word.

That sudden sadness turned at the corner of her eyes. No tadpole was needed for him to feel the slice of pain in her body. “Well, your experience came in handy…” he whispered, wrapping his long arms around her shoulders, drawing her to lay across his chest. Then he looked at her with all his teasing wicked mischief. “Handy… and mouthy too,” he taunted.

That little, cheap, plebeian humor did the trick, he breathed with relief, watching her pain turn to a slightly-peeved smile. “Now, I think we better not leave the others to suppose anything nefarious has happened. Well, nothing more than a good solid fucking…” He stood from her prone body, reaching that elegant hand out for hers. Pulling her to her feet, he planted a little kiss on the back of her hand before reaching for his discarded clothing. Cordehlia did softly giggle to herself, watching him shoving his softening erection into the top of his breeches. Laughter that made him twist those breathtaking features to give that stomach-fluttering smirk.

In the light of day, those scars were clear, the Infernal script covering almost every inch of his flesh. She shuddered even as she completed them, dressing herself.

Suddenly her mind ached, remembering that flash from the tadpole the moment they had met on the beach. It still felt real, fresh as if they were connected. But her mind was clear. The pain lancing through her back, the darkness and isolation, the imprisonment. Wanting to just be numb instead of having hope…

Now she knew.

She crossed over, catching him just as he was shuffling on his shirt. Pressing her fingers to the thickened rises and ridges, he stopped, frozen. Arms shoved in the sleeves about to shrug it over his body. “What does it look like?” he asked, so quiet, so strained. As if he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “The poem Cazador carved in me…”

“I never learned Infernal, but it doesn’t look like a poem…” she traced over it, letting her fingers map out the design. “Can you feel it?”

He nodded solemnly, swallowing loudly as he turned. “I’ve always felt it, but I have never seen it. Mirrors are of no use when you have my… condition,” he replied, a blunt edge of defeat in his silken voice.

“Well,” Cordehlia murmured as she finished tugging her own clothes on, “your eyes are not the only set that can look at your body…” she reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Eyes to see and a willing heart to help you, Astarion…”

His face quirked, as if such words of love, of support were so unfamiliar to his ears. So strange. “Thank you,” he managed to reply after a moment.

They began walking back down the trail like that, hand in hand. Astarion didn’t want to look too closely, barely moving aside from letting their clasped hands sway in time with their ambling strides. Holding his breath and waiting for the moment she would free her fingers from his hold. To pull away from him. Inevitable.

But even as they approached the camp, their companions already seated around the fire, she didn’t budge.

Not even when they all turned to watch them stroll back into their midst. Touching.

“Well,” Gale cleared his throat. “I assume you’ve worked up the appetite.” His face grinned, a bit embarrassed perhaps. “Good morning walk?”

“You idiot, they totally fucked,” Karlach cackled, a slap on the wizard’s shoulder.

Crodehlia grinned slyly, the secret between them dancing on her swollen and thickened lips.

“Not a late night sparring session?” Wyll grinned, his scarred face twisting in taunting amusement.

Astarion gave that giggle of his, fueled by the way her hand seemed to clasp even tighter on his. “Either way, after three, four rounds, it’s amazing either of us is able to meander back to grace you with our presence.”

Gale’s jaw dropped, and Karlach burst in a fit of cackling.

“We have much to do,” Cordehlia grinned, her voice lilting, stiffened with command and expectation. “First and foremost, we need to get the Underdark and find our way forward…”

“Always the commander,” Wyll nodded with approval before turning to begin packing for the journey.

“Won’t you give me a hand, my dear, with our tent?” Astarion grinned, turning his head to look down at where she still stood at his side. Emboldened, he pulled her hand to wrap around his waist.

Gods, she let him.

Then, she turned that ethereal face up to his. A little smile on her lips, she raised on her toes to place a quick peck on his smirking lips.

“I shall get my things, first,” she replied, calmly and steadily. Pressing her tone, as if she was swallowing down so many more emotions than what managed to sneak through in her expression.

“Don’t linger too long, my darling,” the words fumbled out hastily, before his body launched of its own will. His hands wound to the back of her head, his mouth working furiously to taste her. To caress her.

To claim her before them all.

With a gentle tug in her hair, he pulled her back. Kiss snapping loudly apart. That little edge of pain making her shiver against his body. Her lips smiled softly, her eyes half-lidded and begging silently for more.

But he slowed himself; they would never find an answer to these tadpoles, an answer to the scars on his back or an agonizing vengeance against Cazador if he couldn’t keep himself from dragging her to his bed day and night. He smirked to himself as he let go and turned back to his tent.

Cordehlia watched him leave, drinking in the graceful, silent way he stalked. He looked happy, sated, meandering his way back to his abode, pleased and pleasured in every way. But her rapt attention was suddenly drawn by someone at her elbow, clearing his throat with obvious disapproval.

Gale looked at her, his mouth flat, his shoulders bunched and tensed. “So,” he mumbled, “the Underdark, as Master Halsin suggested…”

“That is not the question that burns your tongue, is it, Gale?” she raised a brow, arms folding before her. Resolute.

“No, but I fear giving you offense, my friend.”

“None more than I most likely gave you,” she replied, collected and calm.

But Gale just shrugged. “I can’t say I’m flabbergasted that the Lady Corvus would take the Vampire Spawn as her lover,” he snipped. And instantly, as if he was shocked by his own caustic tone, he raised his hands, “My apologies. I… I speak out of turn. That is not fair to you, Cordehlia, or all you have gone through.” He tugged the collar of his tunic down, showing the full design of that strange sigil in his chest. “We all do foolish things for power and… love…”

Her mind recalled the long-winded story of his love for Mystra, of the risks he took to win her affection and a shred of her power. And all that it cost him now. And all the loot it cost Cordehlia too, just to keep him from suffering terribly.

“You may be relieved to know that over the course of last night, Astarion…”

Gale shoved his hand in her direction. “If it’s anything along the lines of what he will undoubtedly be gloating about later today, I don’t know if I can stomach it before breakfast has settled.” He gulped.

“No, no,” Cordehlia laughed. “He’s, he’s remembering. He’s returning to himself, well,” she shrugged her shoulders, “returning to more of what made him… him.”

“That is good for you, I’m sure,” Gale gave a feeble smile, “but it won’t undo two centuries of what he did… of what he was made to do as a slave, a spawn to Cazador.”

Cordehlia looked him square in the face, her silver eyes narrowed, trying to read his meaning. No magic. No tadpole. Just the shape gaze of an ancient being. “I am not trying to undo anyone’s darkness. Gods know, if I could, I would undo my own first. But perhaps, you were right that day we first found him on the beach.”

She turned, looking across the camp at the flurry of activity to make ready for a long road. A sigh heavy from her little chest as she undoubtedly watched her rogue scuttle about, stashing his luxuries to be transported on the road. Then she turned to level that intensity right at her wizard.

“It is not just that blood runs thicker than water, Gale. His and mine are one and the same now. Bonded. Tethered. Purified in the darkness we each walked until we found one another once more. It is our blood that is thicker.”

Gale nodded and furrowed, “Thickened by bloodlust, by abuse from being the weapon of others, and the need for more and more…”

“Revenge?” that honey-dripping voice sounded almost out of nowhere. “I think that’s the word you were going for, Gale,” Astarion mused, leering at the wizard from over the top of her fiery red hair. “Don’t you know it’s rude to discuss other people’s private… bedroom matters?”

“Bedroom?” Gale scoffed in disbelief. “You bedded her in the dirt by the looks of it,” he was scowling.

“Lady likes to get dirty with her rogue,” Astarion shrugged, cool and collected and flashing his fangs. “And the lady is always right…”

“Hush, you both, there is too much to do to have such dissension,” Cordehlia, first thrusting a finger in Gale’s face before turning around to plant a good, hard slap on Astarion’s shoulder. She pulled him by the collar, thrusting her face into his, a slight baring of her teeth as she gave a feral smile. “Play nice, or next time, it won’t be your shoulder I slap,” she hissed. Then her eyes flashed to those full, smirking lips, catching them in a ravenous kiss. “And I won’t be so gentle,” she added as she broke away. So pressed and quiet.

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep, darling,” he rasped right back.

Her brow quirked, her jaw clenched as she eyed him. “Won’t you be surprised, then.”

“Thrilled,” he purred in response, and already, even after all they done… last night… this morning… he couldn’t ignore that thickening below his belt she conjured now. Every time.

But she just smiled and sauntered right past him. Observing that determination down her every inch, he rolled his shoulders. They wouldn’t stop today until they reached the Underdark. So whatever it was that thickened and needed release would have to wait. It would be bloodlust over lust for now.

It only took a few moments to pack it all up and start the journey. Cordehlia walked in the front of the pack, a spring in her step everyone knew was caused by the vampire who sprang right behind her. He seemed even closer, if that was possible.

He kept those crimson eyes on her at all times, even if it was a single corner, the edge of his periphery. Which is why, as a smoke cloud burst in their path, he leaped right in front of her, daggers drawn and fangs bared. But it wasn’t enough, not as some swarthy, handsome figure swayed his way forward. His voice dripped with temptation, in a deep and rich baritone. “My, my,” he smiled, “the Lady Corvus in the flesh. May I just say…” his trick brows canted in dark amusement, “…I’m your biggest fan.”

Cordehlia’s frame went taut, her body brushing past her lover to stare this intruder down with that iron gaze of her. “Can’t say I recognize you, fan or not,” she sneered.

“Well, why wouldn’t I be? You’ve sent me so many thousands of souls in your conquests and victories, but I do suppose I remain a nameless, faceless admirer of your handiwork.” The stranger extended an arm, fingers unfurling in her direction. “But introductions are better suited for less… humble places… And I shan’t keep you from your feeble search for a cure. Besides,” his leer deepened in that deep-set face, “you’ll want to hear what I have to say, for you, your tadpole-infested companions, and your Vampire Spawn lover.”

Astarion seemed ready to spring, muscles bunched, fangs bared and wide as he hissed at the threat. But before he could unleash any undead fury, the world turned to smoke and ash, the stink of sulfur and brimstone filled their noses.

And darkness swallowed them all at once.

[mumms-the-word]

In Fathoms Below - Ch. 6

Ch. 6 - In Memoriam

Characters: Gale, Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Gortash + other OCs; pairing is Gale x fem!Tav Plot: The island city of Nautera disappeared over 4500 years ago, if it ever existed at all. Now not a single, legitimate record of Nautera exists, save for one. The Nauterran Account. Long thought lost, it has recently been retrieved from the depths of Candlekeep’s archives and placed into the capable hands of one Gale Dekarios. With the Nauterran Account in hand and an eclectic team of Baldurians and other allies mounting an official expedition, Gale journeys to find the ruins of Nautera…but hopes to find so much more. A/N: Slowing it down today, folks. Long chapter ahead! We're about to start the Underdark adventure portion of the fic, but first...we should see who all escaped the dragon turtle unscathed.

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Gale could scarcely believe they made it through the last ordeal alive. Between the massive dragon turtle and the high-speed chase through the tunnels, they should all be dead. Naught more than scraps of flesh floating to the bottom of the sea for fish and other scavengers to pick their bones clean.

But they were alive. 

Some of them were. Not many. 

The mood on the rocky beach inside the cavern was one of somber thoughts and exhaustion as they navigated their subs to an anchoring point and began unloading supplies from off the cargo vessel. Several people injured by being tossed around the submersibles had already queued up for Shadowheart to heal them, while Lae’zel and Karlach were helping to offload cargo and sort it under Gortash and Minthara’s direction. The vampire, now entirely unbound, had slunk off to watch from a safe distance away from the water, keeping out of the way of other crew members. Wyll and Halsin were missing, as were many others.

Gale managed to limp off the cargo vessel and onto the beach without help, but the pain in his side and chest had only increased now that adrenaline wasn’t coursing through his veins. He lowered himself onto a crate with a wince, a hand pressed to his side. It was all he could do to focus on breathing without sending shards of pain into his chest.

At least the orb had stopped glowing. He hoped no one would ask about it, but he knew better. Someone was bound to ask eventually.

He rubbed his hand over the marking, thankful that his arcane hunger had ceased. He doubted there would be any magical artifacts down here for his use. But, he reminded himself, the charm to quell the orb’s hunger wasn’t permanent. He only had six months.

It had already been a tenday since Elminster bestowed the charm. He had seventeen tendays left before it wore off and the orb became unstable again. Theoretically, seventeen tendays should be ample enough time to reach Nautera, but given what he had learned from the Nauterran Account, the reality was a bit more complicated.

The journey through the Underdark to Nautera’s ruins would be a long one, one that might take several tendays, perhaps even a few months—and that was if they didn’t get lost. Much of the Underdark will have changed since the mage wrote his account. They would be forced to find alternative routes, explore new areas, and deal with whatever aggressive life forms had made a home down here. Given all that, it might take the majority of six months to even find the place, much less find it and return to the surface.

His chances of making it back to Waterdeep alive felt as though they were dwindling. If Nautera didn’t hold any secrets for how to quell or cure the orb, which it very well may not…the lost city might be the last thing he saw in the Material Realms.

He’d agreed to this expedition knowing that, knowing that the chances of Nautera being his final resting place were high, but it didn’t make the knowledge sit any easier within his mind. Not now that he faced an endless darkness that made tracking time all but impossible. Down here, there would be no telling how much time had passed. He would be figuratively and literally in the dark.

His one solace was knowing that he’d be able to tell when the orb was growing unstable again. The pain alone would be an obvious signal. If that happened…

Well…as long as he could get others clear of the blast radius, this stretch of the Underdark was probably the best place to unleash the orb’s power.

The grim thought only darkened his already dark mood.

He gazed, eyes fixed and unfocused, at the cavern lake, his thoughts only dragging him further down. But after a little while, he began to notice the surface of the water bubbling and rippling. For an irrational moment, Gale was convinced the dragon turtle or something as equally volatile had found them. He clenched his robes in his fist, wondering where he might find the strength to even stand—but what surfaced was another battered gunner ship, its brass shell dented and the glass on its front windows cracked. 

A wash of relief came over Gale as he saw Wyll, Halsin, and a few others emerge from within, looking only a little worse for wear. They’d been missing for some time, probably a couple of hours, and Gale had started to fear the worst. But as they climbed out of the submersible and onto shore, he allowed himself a small glimmer of hope that perhaps others would be soon to follow.

While Wyll went over to speak with Gortash, Halsin spied Gale sitting hunched on his crate and crossed the distance to join him instead.

“You’re injured,” he said, kneeling down beside him. Gale resisted the urge to snort at the obvious remark.

“Oh this?” He grimaced. “Just a small abrasion, nothing to trouble yourself about.”

Halsin merely raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly not believing him. He lifted a hand, hovering it near Gale’s side, and closed his eyes. Golden druid magic illuminated the air around his hand, bringing with it the scent of fresh grass, lavender, and oak. The scents alone were enough to make Gale long for the surface; he suddenly desired nothing more than to be back in Waterdeep, nestled comfortably in his tower with Tara on his lap or purring at his shoulder. 

But all too soon, the magic faded and his reality settled back over him. Stagnant cave air overtook his senses, replacing the scent of oak and lavender and reminding him that the crate beneath him, the pain in his side, the cavern around them, the people surrounding him, all of that was his reality, for better or for worse. He was trapped in a cavern below the sea, surrounded by strangers, rock, and darkness.

“Broken ribs,” Halsin said. “I’m surprised Shadowheart hasn’t healed you, yet.”

“You know how Sharrans can be,” Gale said, attempting to shrug, only to wince and stop himself. “Not exactly fond of Mystrans.”

“Hm.” Halsin made no comment, but merely drew healing magic to his hand and pressed it gently to Gale’s side. Gale held his breath as the healing magic washed over him like a rush of cool water, the sensation of his ribs stitching together strange and uncomfortable. But soon the pain faded away entirely and he released his breath softly. He twisted and stretched his back, but every hint of pain was gone.

He offered Halsin a relieved smile. “Thank you.”

But Halsin shook his head slightly. “No need for thanks. I’m glad to see you made it out alive. No doubt we would be lost down here without you.”

Gale hesitated. He wasn’t so sure. Lae’zel could have guided them here to this place on her own—her tir’su slates were as accurate as the Nauterran Account, if not more so, at least regarding the deep sea trenches. They could have just as easily made it here without his input.

But he set aside his doubt for the moment. “What of the others? Are there others arriving soon?”

Halsin reluctantly lowered his gaze, silent. He didn’t say anything…but his expression was answer enough.

In his silence, Gale could hear the low tones of Wyll, Gortash, and Karlach as they spoke a few feet away. 

“Impossible,” Gortash said, frowning. “Where’s the other cargo vessel? The other gunners?”

“Gone," Wyll said, his expression pained. "Lost to the chaos. The dragon turtle blocked the entrance. We waited inside the tunnels until we couldn’t hear the sounds of any other submersibles, hoping to help any stragglers...but no one else made it through.” Wyll clenched his jaw briefly, as if struggling to compose himself, before finishing softly. “It’s just us.”

Gale looked back at Halsin, a slow, almost detached horror dawning on him. The news seemed both unreal and inevitable. Halsin’s grim expression confirmed his thoughts.

They were all that was left.

Gale cast a slow look around the cavern, at the exhausted crew members who were trying to organize supplies and catch their breath under the piercing, watchful eyes of Minthara. A quick count, twice over, confirmed their numbers for him. They had less than fifty people left.

Gale didn’t know what to say or how to fill the silence. What was there to say? Was there something he could have done? Some spell he could have cast to protect everyone, if he’d just pushed through the pain and found his concentration? 

He felt suddenly foolish. He’d sat there, worrying about the cost of lives his orb would destroy, when all along the death toll was already sky high.

Whose fault was it, if not his? He should have thought twice before speaking to the dragon turtle. There must have been better words he could have said to try and convince the dragon turtle to let them pass peacefully by. He should have done more. Proceeded with more caution and care. Perhaps with the right persuasive tactics, the right words, the right moment, hundreds would not now be dead.

But hundreds were dead. Hundreds that might be alive if he’d just been smarter, faster, cleverer, stronger. Forget the orb. His carelessness alone had already destroyed hundreds of lives.

He suddenly felt quite ill, his stomach in guilt-ridden knots. As he struggled with the news, however, Karlach’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“What are we going to do?”

Gortash’s answer was quick, almost sharp. “We press on,” he said. “As we’ve always done. Come, there is too much to do. What’s done is done and we should get moving.”

Karlach and Wyll exchanged vaguely horrified glances. Karlach stepped forward, reaching out a hand to touch Gortash’s shoulder before stopping herself. “Gortash, come on. You can’t just let something like this go without saying a few words. Something to honor those who died.”

“Your people are exhausted,” Wyll said. “We’ve defied death by the skin of our teeth—we need time to collect our bearings, even rest.”

Gortash frowned at them both. “I know it isn’t ideal, but we simply don’t have the time. There’s too much to be done and we have so few people to make it happen. You understand, don’t you?”

“Please, Gortash,” Karlach said. “Do it for…for morale or something. We lost a lot of good people out there.”

He frowned at her for a moment and looked on the verge of disagreeing again before Wyll spoke up again.

“It would bolster everyone’s spirits to see you give a small speech, Lord Gortash,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be much. Just enough to signal that you care. After that…” He shrugged. 

Gortash continued to frown, but after a moment he sighed and relented. “You have a head for leadership, young Ravengard. It’s a shame your father doesn’t see it.”

Wyll frowned, but Gortash glanced sidelong at Karlach, no longer paying attention to him. “And you, Karlach...you always did have a bleeding heart. Even after Zariel replaced it with infernal iron.”

A flash of hurt crossed Karlach’s face, but Gortash was already turning away, leaving to approach one of his men and ordered him to gather everyone at the edge of the beach. Karlach and Wyll stood in prickly silence, both of them looking uncomfortable.

Finally, Karlach sighed. “Come on, soldier,” she said softly. “Let’s find something we can use for the memorial. There’s gotta be a candle or something Minthara will spare us.”

Gale and Halsin watched them go, Gale still struggling with the shock of the news. After a moment, Halsin shook his head slowly. 

“A shame to see them under the thumb of a man like Gortash,” he said softly. “Gortash has many useful skills, not to mention a brilliant mind for mechanics and politics. But he doesn’t view people the same way that Wyll or Karlach do.”

“I suppose that’s nobility for you,” Gale said, unsure which side to take. Or even if taking sides here was at all helpful. But something about Gortash’s words bothered him nonetheless. “Why the rush? He seems anxious to keep moving.”

Halsin shook his head again, standing. “I don’t know him well. You will have to ask someone else. Come. If Gortash intends to honor the fallen, we should join him.”

Gale got to his feet, adjusting his satchel around his body. Together, he and Halsin joined the group that was slowly beginning to form at the edge of the cavern lake.

As everyone came together, the soft murmuring of the crowd began to die down to whispers, and then silence as Gortash took up a spot at the front. He held in his hands a wooden bowl, likely taken from someone’s supply pack, with a lit candle balanced in the center. For all his reluctance earlier in private conversation with Wyll and Karlach, he had managed to put on a convincingly somber expression, the flickering of the candle’s flames casting shadows over his face.

Gale, near the back, swept his gaze over their scant crowd, noting again just how small it was. They had lost so many…the pilots, crew members, gnomish artificers and mechanics…people he had never even seen or met. Near him, Minthara stood with her retinue of drow soldiers and scouts. Whatever their numbers had been when they launched, there were only five of them left, including Minthara herself. The four scouts stood respectfully behind Minthara, their eyes downcast, while Minthara glared out into the darkness, her chin high and her lips pressed together.

So much death…for what? Ruins? A few shards of an ancient power source? Gale clenched his hands into fists, struggling again with the weight of ‘what ifs’ and his culpability in all the carnage.

Silence reigned over them for a long moment before Gortash began to speak, his voice even yet grave. 

“When we began this expedition, we launched with over four hundred of the finest men and women Baldur’s Gate and its alllies had to offer,” he said, sweeping his black-eyed gaze slowly over the crowd, looking directly into the faces of several staring back at him. “We knew to be prepared for danger—even for death. Yet to experience such a great loss so early in our journey…it’s a sobering reminder of what’s at stake.” 

He paused, looking around at them again, leaving them to fill in the blanks for themselves. “The men and women who have lost their lives gave them in service to this expedition. Many of them sacrificed their lives so that we, the survivors, could continue their work. We cannot let their sacrifices be in vain.”

He continued to speak of sacrifice and honor, framing the loss of over 350 people as something almost noble, rather than senseless death and preventable tragedy. Despite himself, despite remaining personally unconvinced by Gortash’s speech, Gale had to admit the man was a talented orator. His cadence, his demeanor, even his volume was perfectly measured and convincing; every pause was expertly coordinated to convey both sorrow and strength, resilience and regret. It was the speech of a leader weighing the costs and gathering the courage to press on, and encouraging his men to do the same.

If Gale hadn’t known better, he may have missed that it was all an act. A politician’s charisma in the face of tragedy.

“From now on, we must stand united,” Gortash finished. “If we have any hope of success, it will be because we work as a united front to accomplish our goal. Do this, and we will ensure that those we have lost today will not have been sacrificed in vain.”

He turned and gave the bowl to Karlach, who lowered it into the waters of the cavern lake and sent it floating off into the darkness. After a moment of watching the candle drift away, people began to slowly disperse and return to their duties.

“A pretty speech,” Minthara murmured to one of her scouts. “But empty. Still, if it rouses the rabble into productivity…”

She glanced over at Gale, noticing him listening, and gave him a grim smirk. Then she led her scouts away from the water.

Soon all who were left near the shore were Karlach, Wyll, Halsin, and Gale, with Gale standing a little ways away from the rest. They watched the candle drift across the water in contemplative silence. Gale didn’t know where their thoughts were taking them, but his continued to linger on those moments he stood pinned beneath the dragon turtle’s gaze. If he had done everything differently…anything differently…

“So stupid,” Karlach whispered to herself. The others glanced questioningly at her, but she just rubbed a fist in one eye before shaking her head. “All of it. All those people dead at the bottom of the ocean. That dragon turtle. Gortash’s bullshit speech. All of it.”

“Karlach,” Wyll said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I just wish there was something else we could do, you know?” she said, staring at the candle. Its flame was minuscule in the darkness now, a teeny blip of light drifting out of sight. “Something I could do.”

“You can carry the memory of them with you as you live on,” Halsin said quietly. “As many as you can remember.”

“Doesn’t bring them back, though, does it?”

“No, of course not,” Wyll said. “But Gortash got one thing right in his speech. We can’t give up now. If we can reach Nautera, maybe we can make their deaths mean something.”

Karlach considered that for a moment before nodding slowly. “Yeah…yeah. You’re right. Can’t abandon the mission now.”

He gave her a little smile, squeezing her shoulder once before letting go. “That’s the spirit. We’ll make it worth it somehow.”

“Right.” She blew out a breath and then turned to Gale. “So where to next, map-man?”

Gale blinked, suddenly feeling on the spot as they all turned to look at him. “Er, what?”

“Your book," Wyll said. "It’s going to tell us where to go next, right?”

“Well…yes in a manner of speaking—”

“Um, guys?” Shadowheart said, jogging over to them with Lae’zel close behind. Gale was grateful for the distraction and quickly snapped his mouth shut. “Sorry to interrupt, but we may have a small problem.”

“You mean in addition to all the other small problems we already have?” Karlach asked.

“Yes,” Lae’zel said, crossing her arms. “Your vampire friend has conveniently disappeared.”