#corvo's drabble

[lemonwrap]

Imagine: a Dishonored AU where Ghost is marked and gifted with the Outsider’s powers, and Soap is the royalty he protects.

As a young child, Simon grew up poor—so poor that his father couldn’t repay the debts he racked up. Not when he spent nearly every cent on booze. 

When Simon is eight, the street gang his father had been avoiding for nearly a year finally catches up with him. Although Simon manages to escape, the gang kills his entire family as retribution—his father, mother, and older brother, Tommy. Ghost didn’t care for his father in the least, but it’s still a shock to see a corpse. 

That night, as he sobs on his cracked front doorstep and mourns the loss of his mother and brother, he falls asleep. He awakens in a strange place, where chunks of buildings and land float throughout a vast abyss. 

Simon wanders around for an unknown amount of time investigating—it could’ve been minutes, or it could’ve been years. A flurry of inky black particles form in the air and quickly arrange themselves into a…being.

There’s something distinctly godlike about the being. He isn’t human. His eyes are pitch black, an abyss with no bounds, and his skin is pale as snow. He holds himself with a rigid posture, arms crossed, and chin lifted as he looks down upon the young boy. 

“Hello, Simon,” the being says. 

“Who are you?” Simon whispers. 

“I am the Outsider. Your life has taken a turn, has it not? I have chosen you and drawn you into the Void,” he says. “There are forces in the world and beyond the world, great forces that men call ‘magic’, and now these forces will serve your will.”

Simon doesn’t say anything else, mystified. What is he talking about? There’s always been stories of magic, of the Outsider, but magic doesn’t really exist, does it? But nothing else can explain how real this all feels, from the cold, empty air to the calls of the whales as they float throughout the chasm of this realm, to the Outsider himself. 

“This is my mark,” the Outsider says, and he lifts his hand. Suddenly, Simon’s own left hand is burning, and he jumps at the pain, looking down at it in alarm. There’s an intricate design forming on the back of his hand, and when he tries to wipe it off, it’s smooth and stays firmly in place like a tattoo would.

“Use this newfound power, my gift to you, Simon. How you use what I have given you falls upon you, as it has to the others before you. And now, I return you to your world—but know that I will be watching with great interest.”

In the morning, Simon wakes up on his doorstep again. He immediately checks his hand and is startled to see that it’s still there, and it doesn’t come off. It wasn’t just a dream.

He lives on the streets after that. 

Simon spends years honing his abilities, including his ability to Blink moderate distances, Wind Blast opponents or objects, and his sword fighting skills. He also maintains a strong, agile body ready for just about anything, and even adopts the name Ghost, coming from his ability to Blink and his stealth. 

In his dreams, Ghost sometimes finds himself in the Void, but he never sees the Outsider. His mark is as visible and strong as ever, though, and so he keeps it covered constantly.

At sixteen, Ghost enters the Blade Verbana, an annual sword-fighting competition. The prize is a spot in the Serkonan Guard, something he would have almost zero chance of gaining otherwise.

Ghost wins, of course. Even without his powers, most of his opponents were no match for him. He didn’t use his powers in the competition because using his Wind Blast to throw one of his opponents into a wall or Blinking to dodge would give him away. Black magic is feared and looked down upon, and its discovery would subject him to arrest or death. Ghost knows that is what he possesses, so he keeps it a secret, only using it when alone or in an emergency.

After two years of service, the Duke of Serkonos sends Ghost to Dunwall to serve Empress Anne MacTavish. The Empress assigns him to be the Royal Protector, specifically for her son. 

That’s when he meets John MacTavish.

He’s Ghost’s age, has a stupid haircut in the form of a mohawk, and likes to be called Soap. Ghost thinks he’s insolent and irritating, with the most redeeming thing about him is that he doesn’t talk down on Ghost and doesn’t purposely flaunt his wealth or status. It makes his attitude a little more bearable. However, Soap has a healthy disrespect for authority and, to Ghost’s annoyance, likes to flee the elegant balls his mother hosts and sneak out of his room in the tower at night. It’s Ghost’s job to protect and guard him, and Soap is making it a pain in the ass.

Ghost isn’t particularly attached to his fiery ward until one night, when Soap slips out of his room yet again. Ghost tracks him down and eventually finds Soap in the middle of a brawl with three men in an alleyway, losing badly. Ghost helps him. He and Soap fight side by side, though Soap is clearly lacking in any real technique, and Ghost chases the men away. He could’ve easily Wind Blasted them, but he doesn’t want to try and explain that to Soap. 

He’s about to yell at Soap until he realizes there’s a girl there, too. A teenager, only a few years younger than them. Soap had been defending her. Ghost is still annoyed, but not quite as upset as before as he drags Soap back to the tower. He tends to a pouting Soap’s scrapes and sends him back to his room with a blooming black eye. 

The next day, when Ghost is reprimanded for allowing Soap to leave his room and get hurt, Soap jumps in to defend the Royal Protector. Ghost manages to avoid punishment, although Soap and his black eye make quite the sight as his mother chews him out. 

After that, they get closer. 

As it is his duty to do so, Ghost follows Soap just about everywhere, much to Soap’s annoyance. When Soap isn’t sneaking out, roaming the city streets, or meeting up with his friend Gaz, he likes to find reprieve in the small patch of woods near the tower. Sometimes he takes a dip in the small pond located there. 

“C’mon, Ghost,” Soap urges, waggling his eyebrows as he tosses his shirt to the side. “The water’s fine.” 

“I’m supposed to be guarding you,” Ghost says gruffly as Soap steps in. He tries very hard not to look at Soap’s chest, his strong biceps, or his tanned skin.

“You’re so serious all the time,” Soap huffs, taking his arm and playfully splashing Ghost with water. From the edge, Ghost is torn between wanting to splash him back and wanting to stay on guard. 

“I won’t let you get in trouble,” Soap assures him. “You need to relax a little!” 

Ah, fuck it. What’s a little fun? Ghost has more clothes back at the tower, anyway. He kicks off his boots.

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ghost says. 

“Warn me about wh—“

Ghost doesn’t hear the rest of his sentence. Clothes on, he impulsively cannonballs straight into the pond, splashing water all over the place in a huge wave. When he rises to the surface, Soap is sputtering and spitting water out of his mouth. 

“I didn't mean come in like that,” Soap laughs incredulously. Later, when they return to the tower, Ghost dripping all over the floors and boots squelching with every step, Soap tells his mother that he pushed Ghost in just so that Ghost wouldn’t get in trouble. 

Between their banter and jokes, Ghost also teaches Soap more about self defense, and they spar frequently. Soap gets better and better, but against Ghost’s years of experience and unnatural talents, Ghost still wins. Soap gets some good hits in, though, and he can hold his own in a fight. 

Soap quickly becomes likable—and despite his intention to stay distant, Ghost starts crushing on Soap. He’s still professional, of course, but it’s hard for him to not like Soap, especially when they spend so much time together. Soap treats him well, too, and the brazen-faced man often shows him a softer, more kind side of himself. Ghost’s own facade slips more often than he intends it to.

Sometimes, Ghost wishes he could tell Soap about the Outsider’s mark. He doesn’t, and the Outsider never visits him either. Perhaps Ghost is too boring for him now that he isn’t a street rat. 

Less than a year after Ghost is appointed as Soap’s Royal Protector, the Empress falls ill and dies. At only eighteen, Soap becomes the new Emperor of the Empire of the Isles. 

Soap doesn’t get a lot of time to process it all when the council urges him to make a public statement and officially inherit the title. After, Soap stands with Ghost at his side as the aides move Soap’s belongings into his new quarters—his mother’s old room. 

Soap doesn’t say a word and just stands there with watery eyes. Unsure if this was a line he should cross, Ghost attempts to go stand outside Soap’s door, but Soap asks him to stay. The new Emperor cries into Ghost’s shoulder that night. 

Ghost tries his best to help Soap deal with his grief, but even with personal experience, he’s not the greatest at it. Even so, Soap begins to get the hang of being Emperor and proves himself to be a benevolent and competent leader. The people become fond of Soap and respect him greatly.

It isn’t enough to keep him from being targeted, though. 

It’s a quiet night, nearly three years after being appointed Emperor, when a group of assassins makes an attempt on Soap’s life. Soap and Ghost are resting in a gazebo, looking out at the water, and standing much too close for Ghost to even pretend he’s being professional. He can’t stop looking at Soap, from his grown-out mohawk that hasn’t been trimmed in months to his beautiful blue eyes. Ghost wants to kiss Soap so, so badly, but he does no such thing, and resigns himself to observing.

Neither of them are prepared for the attack, but Ghost recovers first. There’s six of them, all covering their faces like Ghost does—perhaps they had heard of Ghost’s fighting prowess and thought that they could overwhelm him with numbers.

He doesn’t let that happen. 

Everything comes in a rush, and he’s using the Outsider’s mark to prevent them from even touching Soap. Soap knocks one of them out in the ensuing struggle and beats the shit out of another, but Ghost is a whirlwind, dodging and Blinking to avoid blows, Wind Blasting his opponents to the ground, and using his sword like it’s an extension of his own body. It’s over quicker than Ghost had expected. 

“Shit,” Soap says breathlessly, visibly shaken when Ghost pulls his sword out of the last assassin’s stomach. 

“You alright, Johnny?” Ghost asks, stumbling forward, and finds that he’s very out of breath. 

“Simon? What’s that on your side?” Soap asks, his brow creasing with worry. “Are you—“

Ghost staggers, and suddenly his side is bursting with pain. He can’t believe he didn’t notice it before. He reaches his hand to where the pain is radiating and can feel the hot blood quickly gushing from the wound. 

“Simon?!” Soap rushes forward, and suddenly, Ghost feels a little too woozy. Shit, they must’ve gotten him bad.

“It’s fine,” Ghost grunts, trying not to worry Soap too much, but it’s starting to get dark and Ghost is dizzy.

The last thing he hears is Soap frantically calling his name.

When Ghost wakes up, he’s in a dim room that he recognizes as Soap’s quarters. There’s a weight on his thigh, and he looks down to see Soap’s head resting on him. Soap’s closed eyes are puffy like he’s been crying, and there’s shadows under them, too. Ghost shifts and lets out a groan as a sharp pain shoots through his side, and Soap immediately notices, his eyes snapping open. 

But then his face switches from relief and crumples into a terrible, terrible guilt. 

Soap sits up and lays his hand on Ghost’s chest, and Ghost realizes that he’s feeling how his chest rises and falls. Ghost doesn’t know what to say, but anything he possibly could fades when Soap lets out a shuddering gasp and begins to cry. It quickly turns into hiccuping sobs, and Ghost worriedly grabs Soap’s hands in his own, trying to soothe him. 

“Ah, shit. Johnny, it’s okay,” Ghost says, wanting to lean forward but wincing. Soap pushes him back against the propped-up pillows, his cheeks wet with tears, lip wobbling, brows upturned in utter sorrow. Ghost feels like an asshole for letting himself get hurt so badly. 

“It’s not. I thought you were going to die,” Soap says, his breathing hitched. 

“I had to protect you,” Ghost says, running his hands up Soap’s arms. 

“But—“

“Johnny, I’d do it a thousand times if it meant you lived.” 

Soap sniffles and lays his head back down on Ghost’s thigh, and Ghost pets his hair. 

Later, they talk about what happened. At Soap’s probing, Ghost cautiously admits that he had been marked by the Outsider as a child. Soap doesn’t seem to find this off-putting, nor does he call for Ghost’s arrest or beheading. He doesn’t seem to think any differently of Ghost, although he does seem incredibly intrigued by the mark on Ghost’s hand that he’d diligently kept hidden until now.

Only a day and a half after being stabbed, Ghost gets out of bed and hobbles around some, much to Soap’s displeasure. 

When he gets tired, he lets Soap lead him back into bed. They’re close, and Ghost just can’t help himself. He strokes his hand through Soap’s hair softly, and Soap allows it—seems to enjoy it, even. 

And then he’s using the hand in Soap’s hair to urge him closer, kissing him before he can stop himself, because he’s wanted to do this for three years at this point. Ghost quickly pulls back, though, stunned at what he’s just done.

Soap looks just as stunned for a moment, but then he grins.

“Is this your way of telling me you’re feeling better?” Soap laughs, following Ghost’s lips and kissing him fiercely. 

“Better because of you,” Ghost manages to say between their desperate kisses. He doesn’t even care that his side still hurts like a bitch and that it’ll likely be weeks before he’s back on his feet.

“You big fuckin’ sap,” Soap says. “I love you.” 

“Yeah?” Ghost breathes. 

“Yeah,” Soap affirms, and that’s that.

[mbcorvo-author]

I want to write again but sadly right now my brain can only conjure random loosely connected snippets and I don't know if I can work with them since most of them do not really "match".

So, I'm thinking to either make a sideblog and dump them there as story prompts for everyone... or make a sideblog only for some snippets of the setting I thought for my WTNV lookalike short story.

[foxhopfics]

Hey! I'm Nathaniel/Spiral/Fox and i write things sometimes!

You can find me @/spiralsystem on Ao3!

This blog will mainly be posting requests, as my main fics that I'm working on will be posted directly to archive, however I'll still post finished fics here!

For x reader requests I will likely use the pronoun "you" over "they" (I just think it's fun)

HOW TO SEND A REQUEST: please send the pairing you want, any tropes or whatever (not obligatory), and pick from one of 3:

- Headcanons: a quick page of headcanon points

- Drabble: quick blurb between 200-500 words

- Short fic: 1000-3000 words

Please don't be shy with requests!

IMPORTANT NOTE: IF YOU DON'T SPECIFY WHAT TYPE OF FIC U WANT, I CANNOT WRITE IT FOR YOU.

Request types I will take:

X GN!Reader

X Male!reader

X Trans!reader

Character x character

Main fandoms I'll currently write for:

Baldur's Gate 3

911/911 Lone Star

Dishonored

Ace Attorney

Vocaloid/Project Sekai Colourful Stage

Critical role seasons 1 & 2

Dc

Jujutsu Kaisen

Genshin Impact

All For The Game

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

Merlin

& Many more!

More about my writing under the cut so this doesn't get super long :)

Views on shit for writing: I reaaallly don't subscribe to the whole concept of proship/antiship. I take requests on what I'm comfortable writing.

I DO accept nsfw requests, but only within appropriate age ranges. I am comfortable writing age gaps but please dm me and i'll write something on a different site, same with any other typically "taboo" requests. I will not release a "will not/will write" list because that's just inviting problems.

If you'd like nsfw x a minor!character, please specify in the ask if you are also a minor. If there is no age, I will deny the request. I won't write underage smut for adults. I also probably won't push it past an M rating.

Minors I write for:

ProSeka: Honestly realistically most of these characters are minors, but like we don't all know teenagers aren't celibate. Vocaloids don't canonically have ages but since they're all kinda minor-coded, I'll just stick to M max for proseka.

Genshin - Qiqi and Klee, Sayu, and Yaoyao. Diona is NOT a minor, she runs a bar 🙄. Bennett/razor/fischl/anybody who uses the "teen model" I consider 18 at least.

Ace attorney - pearl, trucy. If you want ema I'll write her as her older self unless specified, sorry.

9-1-1: I'll write any of the kids as a side accessory to their parents, unless you want a Gen piece about the kids. I love writing Chris & Denny :)

Dc: Ages are played with a lot in DC, so any characters that are generally accepted as minors/adults will be treated as such. I.e: Damian Wayne, Jon kent will be treated as kids unless you specify a universe where they're older (like when Older!Jon came to that one Earth)

BALDUR'S GATE 3:

The ONLY characters I won't write for this are LAE'ZEL and MINTHARA:

Minthara: killed her and saved the tieflings. No real interest in having her as a companion so I haven't seen any content with her.

Lae'zel: get back to me when she doesn't excuse slaughtering and colonizing entire towns lol. I'm native and the gith creche slaughtering the entire temple of lathander (as. As a cleric of lathander also) and she was like 🤷‍♂️ we live here now. I was not cool with that. I also really don't know how to write a romance for someone who is constantly combative towards the player.

BSD: I can only write for the ADA characters + aktugawa because. I have only seen season 1 :,) sorry

Muses & character's I'm great at writing for:

Bg3: Tav, Wyll

911: Eddie, TK

Dishonored: Corvo, Outsider (and Garett from Thief 2014)

Ace Attorney: Edgeworth, Klavier, Apollo, Clay, Simon, Diego

Vocaloid/Proseka: Len, VFlower, GUMI, Shiho, Toya, Mafuyu, Mizuki

Critrole: Percy, Vax, Caleb, Jester

DC: batfam, superfam, flashs & rogues gallery, teen titans, young justice

JJK: Gojo, Nanami, Itadori, Inumaki, Fushiguro

Genshin: Diluc, Zhongli, Alhaitham & Kaveh (and 4ggravate), Traveler twins, Pantalone, Wriothesley

AFTG: Neil, Aaron, Jean

[adozentothedawn]

Fic Wrap-Up Meme: 2024

I saw this and I actually did some writing again this year so hell yes, I'm doing it. Thank you @dragonologist-phd for the template! (Also anyone inspired feel free to consider yourselves tagged.)

FANDOMS: Rogue Trader (That was this year?? Damn), Pillars of Eternity, Dishonored. Just. So much Dishonored. 3 FANFICS WITH THE MOST KUDOS IN 2024 -

Magnetism (17)

It starts out small. The group of kids congregating around him as he shows off his skills. (Honestly this is kind of hilarious considering I wrote the entirety of it in 15 minutes on discord. I only posted on ao3 because people on tumblr seemed to like it so I thought why not, it works as a drabble.)

The Many Meetings of Death and Death (16)

Daud is a wreck. Corvo is a player avatar. Neither of them is happy about it. Well maybe the Outsider is. (Corvo is living the worst fucking groundhog day ever and Daud doesn't know but is confused. Also sometimes dead.)

From a Friend (13)

Corvo Attano, disgraced Royal Protector, has been in Coldridge for three months. Three months of enduring torture and his own all consuming guilt as he tries to simply stay alive. As the days are drowned in pain and anguish there is one thing he is forced to acknoweledge. Someone is sneaking him food. Hadria Granville meanwhile, ten years old and now abandoned at a foreign court, is terrified but determined to help. (The thing that jumpstarted my mildly manic Dishonored wiriting. I wrote this in 3 days which is insane considering my normal writing speed. But yeah man, Hadria just wanted to get involved i guess.)

The Words We Speak (13)

Corvo finds Jessamine's letter to Emily. (What it says on the tin. Corvo is just so fucking sad, man.)

FAVORITE OPENING LINE FROM A FIC IN 2024 -

I kinda have to go with "Daud is a Wreck." (The Many Meetings of Death and Death) considering that I used it 3 times for the chapter and will use it a fourth time before the year is over.

FAVORITE CLOSING LINE FROM A FIC IN 2024 -

Gonna nominate three for that actually, two depressing and one wholesome:

He never learns that the worst injury sustained by the Whalers is a broken ankle from falling out of a transversal when the bond breaks. - The Many Meetings of Death and Death chapter 3

The children slept, the adults did not, the warm fireplace threw flickering shadows on the wall, and for a while happiness reigned in Dunwall Tower. - The Height of Friendship

You have to succeed, so you don't care, you don't think, you don't feel, you simply stay silent and unseen, a shadow haunting the Tower, a ghost of past happiness who would suffocate the lies now living where your heart used to be. - The Words We Speak

FIC I’M MOST PROUD OF IN 2024 -

Man thats hard. I guess I'll say The Many Meetings of Death and Death? Mostly cause its a multi chapter fic and I am so close to actually finishing it, which is special for me. I do like the The Many Conquests of Daud though, I need to do more explicitely ace stories. I will defend this canonically ace character with my life, i need to fill this tag more.

NEW THINGS I HAVE TRIED IN 2024 -

Dishonored fanfic. Other than that like I said I finally started doing another proper multi chapter fic that I am not leaving out to dry like my poor Readceras children who have been waiting for like four years for an update, oops.

GOALS FOR 2025 -

I will continue writing Dishonored fic. Probably for 2 at this point then. Also I really need to write the second half of that two parter I started (They Had to Die) which I absolutely will do I'm just not sure if I can do it this year still. At latest in january I should be done, I was just bewitched by the existence of Daud.

I also, as stated, need to fill up the ace Daud tag, it is my holy calling, there's not nearly enough in there.

[4th-make-quail]

5, 6, 8, and 18! (If you want to do all of them :3)

Fandom Questions

5. Which fandoms have your written fanfiction for? ahaha quite a few!! mostly video games with a few other canons scattered here and abouts

Final Fantasy XIV (27) Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) (26) Final Fantasy XII (18) Final Fantasy XV (13) inFAMOUS (Video Games) (13) British Comedy RPF (9) The Magnus Archives (Podcast) (8) Devil May Cry (Gameverse) (7) Supernatural (TV 2005) (7) Baldur's Gate (Video Games) (5)

Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022) RPF (4) Compilation of Final Fantasy VII (4) Interview with the Vampire (TV 2022) (3) Overwatch (Video Game) (2) Final Fantasy X (2) Dishonored (Video Games) (1) The Goblin Emperor Series - Katherine Addison (1) Uncharted (Video Games) (1) Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga (1) Metal Gear (Video Games) (1)

6. List your OTP from each fandom you’ve been involved in. AHHHH THIS IS SO HARD I HAVE SO MANY OTPS SDLKGJL'FG okay here goes!

FFXIV: Sartauvoir/Basch, Gaius/Estinien, Lyon/Menenius Resident Evil: Chris/Wesker, Leon/Krauser, Jake/Sherry FFXII: Cid/Vayne, Ghis/Bergan, Ashe/Basch/Vossler, Ondore/Reddas, Ashe/Balthier(/Al-Cid) FFXV: Gladio/Noct, Prompto/Ignis, Nyx/Drautos, Regis/Clarus inFAMOUS: Cole/Zeke, Reggie/Delsin, Eugene/Reggie Britcom RPF: Charlie Brooker/David Mitchell TMA: Jon/Gerry, Martin/Mike Crew, Peter/Elias, Jon/Elias DMC: Nero/Credo, Dante/Vergil SPN: previously Dean/Cas, now Dean/Sam, Dean/Crowley, Sam/Rowena, many many others.... bg3: Omeluum/Blurg, Tav/Emperor, Orpheus/Voss iwtv rpf: Eric/Assad ofc!! iwtv: Armand/(old)Daniel, Louis/Armand/Daniel, Louis/Daniel, Armand/Louis FFVII: Cid/Vincent, Turks Gangbang in various combos Overwatch: Reaper/Soldier 76, Hanzo/Mcree (sorry idr his new name sldhglg) FFX: Auron/Jecht/Braska, Seymour/Anima(or Seymour's mother) Dishonored: Corvo/Daud The Goblin Emperor: Thara/Iana Uncharted: Sam/Sully!!!!! but i wrote Nate/Elena as a gift lol Full Metal Alchemist: Hughes/Mustang, although I wrote Ed/Winry for an exchange MGS: Sam/Raiden, Vamp/Raiden, BB/Ocelot, BB/Kaz, although when i wrote for this fandom it was..... a britcom rpf crossover LOL

8. How did you get involved in your latest fandom? well, i was SUPER into the vampire chronicles as a young teen but i basically read iwtv -> TVA -> blood & gold and then stopped, cos i was mostly HUGELY into Armand and then Marius, and less bothered about the rest. then when iwtv (tv) came out, i was HUGELY into it, but i wasn't back on tumblr back then so i just kinda squeed in my own head? so when i found out s2 was airing (i'd missed like 3 eps i think??) i just finally got into the fandom proper! and having Armand there now just gave me all the impetus i needed to start making things heh. god i love him so much... needless to say young teen me HATED the casting choice from the original film LOL

Current Fandom

18. What ship have you written the most about? it's definitely Eric/Assad atm!! i've written three Armand/Daniel drabbles for Seasons of Drabbles exchange, but man, the rpf has taken me overrrr

[wolfgirl-valentine]

EDIT: I MADE A SECONDARY BLOG!!!

@miss-wolffie to make more easy to see my old works :3

Art Masterlist

I decide to put all my fanarts and fics in one post :)

Miscellaneous

Ferdinand Kingsley study #1

Dream of the Endless(cw semi nudity) "fixed" version

Ferdinand Kingsley study #2

Dreamling

Fanart inspired by @fractalspaces amazing fic

Little Fanart

Fanart+Drabble of Retired!DreamxHob

Quasi-obligatory Hob Rescues Dream fanwork. 2nd version

Star Wars AU

Dreamling Week 2022 Drabbles : 1 2 3(nsfw) 4 5 6 7 (SW AU #2)

Star Wars AU #3 (fanart+Drabble)

Dreamling Selfie fail

Kiss in the cheek Watercolor

Hob and Meowpheus nap

Meowpheus and Hob Jumpscare

Star Wars AU #4

Oils pastel drawing

(Dreamling con ñ week entries:)

Dream asking for Hob forgiveness (Shitposting)

LatAm AU they meet in the Metro

Dream as "El Charro Negro"

Dreamling Kiss +Desire Telenovela style

Dreamling Nation's House of horrors entry (watercolor)

Dishonored

The Outsider watercolor

High Chaos Corvo quick sketch

• Red Dead Redemption 2

Arthur fanart (I need to correct this one)

Arthur fanart 2

[a-sleepyblackcatyawning]

Corgi Attano

Got an ao3 notification that @aimportantdragoncollector had posted a fic called corgizuku. Haven’t read it yet, but the title alone inspired this: a drabble of ‘what if Corvo’s only ability was to turn into a corgi?’

Having woken up in a strange watery void, Outsider’s mark on his hand and a strange compulsion to follow vague commands, Corvo clenched his Marked hand and turned in a corgi. And couldn’t turn back.

He whined. 

After some...time? Was time a concept in this place? After both eons and seconds had passed simultaneously - time here was just as distorted as the laws of physics - and after Corvo had hidden himself under the bed and put his paws over his eyes, a pair of legs appeared in a rush of darkness. 

The legs walked over to the bed and crouched down, and then a pair of arms pulled Corvo from his comforting space under the bed. 

Instinctively, Corvo’s paws scrabbled in his alarm. He opened eyes that he’d clenched shut when grabbed and met a pair of...well, for lack of a better word, eyes, although the blackness that gaped out from those sockets probably didn’t meet the anatomical definition of “eyes”. 

The face of the young...man? contorted in an expression of amusement. “Oh! Hmmm. How fascinating,” said the Outsider.

----

After having lead Granny’s “gentlemen callers” to the Watch guards, Corvo headed back upstairs to collect his fourth rune. It dissolved into nothingness under his paw, Void energy pulsed through him and merged with the accumulated Void energy from the previous three runes Corvo had acquired, mingling with hope. Corvo felt buoyed, the sensations almost too much for his small body, bubbling and boiling over. Granny had told him that most the most powerful skills started to cost four runes to upgrade. Surely, this time he would return to normal.

He called on the Void.

He remained a corgi.

Disappointment was added to the boiling pot of Corvo’s emotions. His corgi body almost fell over with the force of his resulting hiccups.

---

“Oh, my! What an adorable dog!”

Corvo trotted past, ignoring the gushing noblewoman. Since he’d arrived at the Boyle party, he must have heard those two statements a dozen times. It was as though the nobles were programmed with only a limited selection of things to say. 

Corvo went up to the Lady Boyle who was boinking Hiram Burrows, sat down in front of her and whined with large, shining puppy eyes. 

Although the mask hid her face, Corvo could practically hear the crack in her icy, regal demeanor. She crouched down to pet him. “Oh, my! What an adorable dog!” 

Corvo’s eyes rolled upwards. Thankfully, he was a corgi and, thus, was adorable as pie. His eyerolls only added to his charm. 

He leaned into her petting, then righted himself with a shake, walked a few steps away and then looked back at Lady Boyle. When he saw that she wasn’t moving, he whined. 

“Do you want me to follow you?” Lady Boyle asked, already moving towards the waiting corgi.

Corvo yipped and danced in place, turning around in a full circle in his delight.

Lady Boyle giggled. “Then lead the way, my faithful shepherd.” 

Truly, Corgi Attano’s adorableness knew no bounds if he was able to convince the paranoid Lady Boyle to follow him so easily. 

Lord Brisby was delighted.

-----

Corvo, sopping wet, looked at the stairs, then up at scaffolding and could only bemoan his current species. He was an adorably small dog with adorably small legs! How was he meant to traverse an assassin’s hideout that seemed designed for people who could teleport?! He wished he could teleport, but he could only stay as a dog. 

(Apparently, Corvo needed 58! Fifty-eight! runes to upgrade the corgi skill enough so that he could return to a human. According to the Outsider, who seemed to want to stir the pot, this skill would allow Corvo to transform to and from a corgi at will. How terrifying! The Abbey was indeed right to fear the Marked who had such fearsome powers!)

Corvo whined and was answered with a deep growl. 

----

Daud stared at the sopping wet mutt he’d rescued from one of the wolfhounds, and could only shake his head. 

He’d regretted killing the Empress and kidnapping the girl. Billy had betrayed him. His base had been invaded by Overseers. He was, in short, tired of this. He was sure that black-eyed bastard had Marked him knowing that Daud would come to curse what he’d once thought was a boon, his ticket to power and stability. A way to leave his own mark on the world.

After Attano had broken out of Coldridge and after Attano had taken down his enemies without killing them, Daud had had everything planned. He’d dismissed as many Whalers as he could (as many as would leave) and sent the others out on missions away from the base (as many as he could without raising suspicion). With a skeleton crew of lookouts, students and teachers, he told them to report any sighting of trespassers to him and, in the time it would take for him to reach them, to engage said trespassers without killing them. He’d thought to try to rile Attano into killing him during a fight and, if Attano remained unmoved, to then ask for his life, to see if the man’s hand would be stayed even for him.

Instead, he’d had to rescue a corgi-fied Attano from death by wolfhound. Some of his Whalers were moved by the animal, coos of “Oh, my! What an adorable dog!” following after them, but Daud could only feel alarm and annoyance. One, he had a feeling he knew who, or rather what, was responsible for his travesty, and the Outsider had enough to answer for already. Two, Daud had grown up a half-feral street child and automatically tended to view dogs as menaces and food thieves. 

Daud dropped the towel he’d been using to dry Attano, stepped back and disarmed himself, tossing his belts and sword over onto the desk behind him. Then he knelt on the floor, bringing himself eye level to Attano. “When I killed your Empress, something broke inside of me,” he began his pre-planned speech.

Attano rolled his eyes. Somehow, it was even more insulting than when a human did it. Nevertheless, Daud continued. He deserved the insult. This man, even as a dog, had accomplished more than he had in all his decades as an assassin. “...Now I want nothing more than to leave this city and fade from the memory of those who reside here. I’ve had enough killing. My life is in your hands.” Daud paused and added, “Of course, I will help you return to your normal form. After I do so, should you wish my death, you have every right to it.”

The corgi nodded vehemently at the offer of help.

[aidenwaites]

heres my thought, and your challenge: write a dishonored drabble based off the word "slugs"

;) u got it!!!

Emily was always an adventurous girl. As soon as she could walk, it was as if even the spacious streets of Dunwall couldn't keep her satisfied. When she wasn't daydreaming through her lessons or begging for stories, she was pushing Corvo to his limits on how far she could explore before he'd even realize she was gone. Jessamine would scold him, if she knew the trouble he let Emily get up to.

Wandering down the nearest dock, he found himself smiling softly to himself. Jessamine probably already knew. She'd been an adventurous young girl herself, once. He suspected she knew every one of Emily's little tricks.

Emily was lying on the ground when he found her, her chin in her hands and her legs swinging in the air behind her. She'd get a scolding later for the dirt on her dress, but Corvo wasn't going to be the one to do it. He never minded a little dirt.

"Emily?" He called, slowing to a stop next to her. She immediately glared up and harshly shushed him in the pouty way only a child can. He raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice. "What are you doing?"

"Look.." she pointed. He crouched down next to her to get a closer look. She was laying only a foot away from a particularly large, brown-spotted slug. She pulled her hand back and giggled. "He's crossing the path. It's taking him a while."

"And you've been watching him?" He asked, his smile audible in his voice. She nodded.

"I wanted to help, but you shouldn't mess with wild things unless you have to," she recited. A lesson from Jessamine, no doubt. They'd caught Emily before with bugs and worms and everything of the like. "So I decided I'd watch. So he gets across safely."

"Well, he's almost there."

"Mmhm! Just a little longer..." She fell silent, and watched with a deep interest as the slug dragged itself across the cobble. That focus would serve her well, one day.

Then again, as soon as the creature hit the grass, Emily leapt to her feet and grinned brightly up at Corvo. "So.. can I skip my lessons today?"

He chuckled. "I don't think so."

"What if I were learning about the city? By going with you on your errands?"

"Well.." he smiled. "Maybe."

[screwtheprinceimtakingthehorse]

“Unbind me” and/or “quiet me” for CorvoDaud?

Unbind me

“Shit,” Daud grunted as he dropped into the hole in the ground that was barely worth calling a cell. “Attano.” He crouched low and crept closer. 

Attano groaned. “Who’s there?”

Dear old Granny must have done a number on their erstwhile Royal Protector, ever ready for a fight. Daud wondered just how he’d displeased her, to find himself bound with ropes, his arms bent back — perhaps the tales of the Masked Felon helping Slackjaw take back Bottle Street had been the last straw. Daud hesitated: helping Corvo now would only lead him closer. But then, it was what he deserved.

Quiet me

“Attano!” Daud barked. “Void’s sake, listen!”

This was the last thing he had expected — a knife at his throat, a fight, begging for his life, but not this. The moment he’d felt the Void stir, he’d readied himself. But then the speakers had announced Havelock’s regency. And then, the first chair had flown across the room.

Attano turned, mask back in place, shoulders heaving.

“I understand,” Daud tried to reason, “but smashing what furniture I have left isn’t the way.”

“Then what is?” Attano growled.

Daud weighed his answer. ‘Kill me,’ was one. ‘Kingsparrow Island,’ the other. Time to choose.

[mbcorvo-author]

Some weeks ago I had the inspiration of trying to write a short story in a similar style (and in particular, the same vibe!) to WTNV, so I started writing down some ideas I had and then expanded one of them.

I'm not entirely happy with this (also because I had no clue on how to convey the tone used by the speaker), but I'm at least glad to have been able to write anything at all after a long time of not writing any short stories or drabbles!

TW: mentions of gore & body horror

Platform 4

You're tuned to channel 13.13, hello!

Today our scheduled program starts with a message from the Town Council, and the message is as follows: "The Council alerts all residents and people currently staying in the village that the local railway station does not have a "platform four". Anyone who meets someone claiming to have gotten off the train at the fourth platform has to contact the railway authorities as soon as possible: they will direct you to the decontamination facilities for check-ups. If you have found yourself at the fourth platform, or know someone that found themselves at the fourth platform, you must surrender them and/or yourself to the railway authorities that will arrange isolation and containment. DeadRiver's train station has only three platforms. There is no platform four." And this was the message from the Town Council.

On another note, talking about the council, DeadRiver is pleased to wish you a happy hundredth-something birthday Arthur! And many happy returns! Even if Arthur already knows how to return. Arthur always returns.

Now another reminder for our kind listeners: please, refrain from trekking in the Beechgrove locality as we are close to the annual Fae festival! The Folk doesn't like tourists during their annual festival. But don't worry: they'll hold another one - open to all creatures - in the upcoming months, so stay tuned to receive updates on the local events!

We received some updates on the Platform Four situation... It seems that the railway police have already brought three people safely into containment, while a fourth one quote-unquote "just melted into a puddle of a red bubbling substance as soon as it got dragged into the facility". Well, that's quite an unusual thing uh? But I don't think it's worse than that case - some time ago - when people started rotting spontaneously and turning into a corpse in a state of advanced decomposition in a matter of seconds. That was a nasty year! Tourism season was at its lowest that year... Not that I think that's a bad thing since it's tiring having to explain how the village works to outsiders... But DeadRiver is a renowned esoteric outdoor touristic location and the Town Council doesn't want to risk losing the money brought to the village by hikers, bikers, cultists, cottage-core lovers, worshipers of the demonic and city people wanting to breathe fresh country air to decompress after a stressful work week sitting at their office's desk! Hm. Reminiscing about the Year of the Rotting made me crave beef jerky. I leave you now with the commercial break, meanwhile, I'll go get something to eat~ Preferably jerky.

-- Welcome back to Radio DeadRiver! There's another update from the train station. Currently, the railway police have put on lockdown a dozen of people-adjacent beings who affirmed to have been at Platform Four and other people-adjacent beings that got close to them. The first three mentioned earlier have already melted into undefined puddles during their stay in the containment facility. We will update you as soon as we get other news from the train station!

Some listeners messaged our station, alarmed by the number of deer carcasses spotted around the village. No, there's no wolf pack, bear, chupacabra or genetically mutated wolverine-badger-mongoose lycanthrope roaming around: don't worry! What you saw is one of those uh- brands of fucked up deers. Like the Muntjack deer - y'know, the ones which have many holes on their face to smell and trigger trypophobia - who live in the nearby forest. Sometimes they get down in town in search of food. So, don't worry: if you spot them, just leave them alone since they will awaken and scuttle away as soon as night falls! And remember to keep your trash bins and homes securely closed!

Let's now return like an urban-line train to our railway situation. I'm receiving a message through the telegraph with some updates. Let's see what's going on! Mh... aha! Uhm... So, it appears that even the other people-adjacent beings turned into unclassified goo while in containment, but the science guys still don't know how that could've happened. But they are doing their best by analyzing the varied puddles of goo. Town Council adds, in a separate message, that they believe it's the Government's doing... and even if I disagree with the Town Council's words, I'm legally bound to repeat what they say.

Oh! The telegraph is pinging me with a new update... Okay, it appears that the melting might have been caused by a "disconnection between the people-adjacent beings and the railway's electric grid, as the grid supplied the beings' internal electromagnetic field that helped them maintain their form". Well, at least they know what they are doing now! I'm not sure if I have grasped the concept, I'm a humanities person, but that explanation sounded like a very relevant thing! Honestly, you could talk to me about uh- I don't know, maybe how the thermodynamic laws work and I would silently nod and smile while, in my head, I'll be climbing a rotating Penrose staircase. But I'm going off the rails.

Another update came through. It appears that the authorities found a way to deal with the Platform Four beings and the goo for which they are made. That's great news, my guys! Looks like they are already close to finding a solution!

We also tried to reach the current supervisor of the railway authorities present at the train station to ask for some declaration of sorts about the event. Something we could share with you all to keep you informed and safe. The Supervisor replied that there is no fourth platform in DeadRiver train station, and because there isn't any fourth platform, there isn't anything happening related to that. "Nothing to worry about, nothing that we're allowed to know about", he said. Well! It's good to know that there isn't anything to worry about!

Sadly for you, listeners, our time is up! Don't forget to tune back into channel 13.13 tomorrow for your dose of local news! See ya next time, bozos!

[foxhopfics]

Hi! I saw that you were taking Dishonored requests 🥺Could I get a few tiny headcanons or even a drabble of Corvo x GN reader, where reader is a waiter at some local restaurant who's always real friendly with customers (I'd say like a stereotypical American diner waiter, but I'm not American so I can't say for sure 😭) and Corvo gets a little crush on them from all the friendliness? Thank you 🙏🙏

Hehe ya no problem it'll be up soon!

[emsiider-blog]

Nightmares & Pity

Emily had made her way across the Dust District in search of Mr. Stilton’s manor throughout half of the day, but now finding that precious time trickle down getting closer to night, she knew she was going to have to bunker down before it got dark... the dying sun she had seen as she retreated through a window had told her that much. So the Empress, not wanting to travel in the dead of night settled down in an abandoned home, which had dust piled at the corners of each room. The air began to lift, becoming less thick as the recent storm settled. Emily was grateful for the mask she had to cover her mouth and nose, it prevented any of the sentiments to find their way to her lungs and she’d happily pay the price of having a dusty attire than the possible sickness from the weather. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose.” Emily breathed, starting to explore the house she’d call home for the night. With no surprise, the door to enter the small home was barricaded shut, meaning no one could enter aside from the window she had slipped through. At least then Emily knew she didn’t have to worry about any Howlers barging in or the Overseers sensing the Outsider’s Mark following them to call for treason. The idea of such a headache made her mind throb slightly… or was it really her lack of sleep? The day had drawn most of the energy from her having to hide from several Overseer hounds, half of the city’s population, and the threat of Pablo’s gang. A soft groan, passed pursed lips, wanting to finish looking over the rooms so she could actually get some rest. It didn’t take long for her to do a quick check over of the kitchen and half of the dust-filled bathroom to know she was mostly safe. Now for the last place, the bedroom.

The sound of her boots resumed until Emily stopped at the entrance of the room. The door was broken, hanging on one hinge as she stepped passed it, gazing around. Dirty paintings hung sideways on brown walls, one side of it was cover by grey dust and the other was clear enough just for one person. Coughing into her sleeve, boots sounded across the wooden panels, over to where she spotted a bed rested against the wall. This would make a good cushion, much better than the dusty floor. She’d check it over, patting the dirt off and wiping it down one final time before she let it fall into the mostly clear area. Emily lowered onto it as a low sigh brisked her lips. “Much better.” Her voice hummed, unholstering the weapons she had, soon placing them by the bedside. As she began to lay, pulling her mask off, and settling down for the night she went over the things she’d do in the morning, knowing that whatever Delilah was hiding she’d figure it out and exploit its uses fully. Her mind was a roller coaster, rushing past all the objectives needed to be done, conjuring expectations but finally wondering what would be her next move once she did come to know the witch’s secret. There was no telling until tomorrow’s events played out.

It took several minutes for Emily to finally find sleep, it’s darkness blanketing over her eyes, clouding any thought in her mind as the Void took her to a dream she’d wish to escape from. A dream that haunted the Empress. The death of her mother…

Tall white walls rose around her, the small girl taking her time as she followed Corvo, a little breathless from the game of hide and seek the two had just played and the many stairs she had to climb to get to where the sounds of her mother could be heard. Her voice didn’t sound pleased and as it seemed the spymaster was talking as if the Plague couldn’t be cured. Even if it didn’t seem like it now they still had to have hope, didn’t they? Sokolov said his Elixir would cure it so they mustn’t give up! Emily maneuvered past the Royal Protector, over to where the Empress stood speaking harshly with the other man. “Mother, Corvo is back!” Her lips pulled in a smile hoping to ease the tension between the two as she dismissed the spymaster. The old crow. Brown eyes dared to look up into his wrinkled face but quickly snapped back to her mother’s after seeing his narrow beady eyes. They seemed to burn into the pale skin of the little girl sending shivers down her spine. Before long Corvo replaced the croon, Emily stood back watching attentively in hope of hearing the good news he brought. Her foot lifted pressing against the marble floor as her hands folded behind her back in anticipation. Dark eyes not moving from the letter the gentle hands of her mother held. Though as the Empress would continue to read her expression would lower, shadows casting worry, making the young woman look much older than she really was. By then Emily knew the news held bad intentions without her mother saying so. “Are you okay, Mother? You seem sad.” Though Emily shared that emotion. Anger filled the young girl, not understanding why the other Isles weren’t as merciful as theirs were. They helped them, the least they could do was return the favor!  Jessamine's sadness mirrored onto her own and before she knew it her gaze tore from the letter, moving closer to her mother, outstretching a hand for comfort. It was only a light gesture but she knew it meant the world to the now distraught Empress. A comforting mother’s hold reached back to her child, cupping Emily’s cheek as a small smile lifted her lips, speaking encouragement to her heir.

The sweet, caring moment had passed as soon as it came, the world around her glitched violently to the dark atmosphere of the Void and back again, continuing to do so afterward. Disorienting her mother’s figure and changing Emily’s dream to where she now seemed to be having an out of body experience as her older self. The white marble structure would move to thick black rocks and cold drafts but would always come back to where she still stood next to her beloved mother, peering past the columns out towards the rooftops. Spotting the assassins as they rushed across them headed straight for the trio. The older Emily who watched helplessly as her younger father fought with brawn to protect his family. Killing each assassin as they made the attempt to take her mother’s life. Once they all disappeared in green fragments, the little girl ran over to the Lord Protector, hugging him in relief but Emily knew better, she knew what was coming. “No, the threat isn’t gone!” She’d call out wanting to run over to her mother, but some unspeakable force was keeping her down. Gluing her to the floor and no matter how hard she tried to struggle there was no use as the last assassin came into view grappling Corvo immobile. “Mother, run!” Emily cried, watching as Daud’s vicious hands grabbed Jessamine’s brown hair pulling her to him. “Please, not her. Not this!” The dream glitched once more, visions of black tears streaming down the mother’s face as her child was thrown back. Emily stood there watching with pain, not even realizing the piercing scream as it ripped her mouth open, watching the blade run through her mother’s corpse.

“NO!” Blood ran cold, sweat covered her forehead and tears wetted her cheeks as the now older Empress shot up from her bed. Brown eyes wide with fear as she came face to face with the black pupils of the Outsider. They shifted looking at her own irises, their noses brisked each other's for mere seconds before a gasp breathed past her lips. She’d quickly scurry back putting distance between the both of them, hands fumbling as they slid down the fine sand. “What do you think you are doing?” Emily’s voice was filled with irritation, the idea of him seeing her like this struck a cord wrong within.

A dark eyebrow would raise as her answer. He hadn’t been there the whole time just a few minutes before she had actually awoken, though by the way she tossed and turned one would think she was already awake. He had wondered if it was his presence that had sent her into the nightmare or was she deep within it when he had arrived. Unsure of the answer, he had decided to stay out of pure curiosity. The Outsider knew what she was dreaming, like any child their fears eventually came back to them in the darkest of nights. Dear Emily, poor Emily. He had watched her expression tighten in pain, he had seen her restless movements and the tears that watered her lashes. If he knew any better he’d feel sorry, the sympathy which would make someone conscious of their past actions… maybe even guilty because of them. The Outsider made an expression of sorrow, raising his eyebrows as he gazed upon the Empress. He felt bad that there was nothing he could do to quell her dreams but knew that those were lessons being replayed, the importance of letting her learn to not make the same mistake was a greater mercy than waking her up. Upon a moment of peace in her restlessness, he progressed drawing closer to her, curious that maybe he could help in some way, anyway. The black smoke that flickered and disappeared behind him drifted over her being, his cold eyes looking at the marked hand that sprawled across her chest. Maybe if there was a comforting touch, she’d calm. Slowly the Outsider extended his own pale hand over across the space between them, cold digits brisking against hers, black eyes taking in the soft glow the mark emitted as his hand grazed it. His mouth opened wanting to say something to the sleeping Empress, but before his digits could wrap around her palm or his words left his lips, Emily had shot up in that instant waking up. He lacked any surprise but instead looked at her as if he knew she’d wake up from his dead touch. And that’s where her question was asked, then answered though lacked given a very good explanation.

“Well?” His gaze would flicker down to the hand he had been touching seconds ago, thinking. “You twist in your sleep, afraid of the past, fearful of the future. Your dreams are plagued with haunted memories but still, you hide them behind stoic expressions and determination. You slept restlessly and in your dreams I found it benefitting for me to watch. To understand.” His words were carefully picked, rising from his knees to his feet. No evidence of dust was left on dark pants or in the world he had been kneeling on. It was as if he was a ghost passing through the tangible universe leaving his touch and mark on the people who inhabited it. “You were watching me?” Her incredulous questions began again. So many questions. “Yes, but I watch the world, not just you, Emily.” He took note of how her gaze lowered. “Your nightmares have a heavy effect on you. Tears from an Empress is certainly a rare thing.” His steps carried over to her, leaning down again so he could gently brisk a finger against her wet cheeks, feeling the warmth of her skin and sensation of her sadness. Though it wasn’t long until Emily pulled away from him, brown eyes giving him a warning glare before shoving to her feet. “You shouldn’t be watching me. You shouldn’t be here.” The Outsider rose alongside her, watching with darkened eyes as she brushed herself off, straightening the attire she wore. “For what it’s worth, I am saddened by the pain you have.”

Pity. If it’s one thing Emily hated more than the men who took her mother’s life, it was that. Her jaw clenched with anger, brown eyes burning with a fierce intensity. “I don’t want your pity, I’m just fine on my own.” Strapping the pistol against her hip, the Empress gave the Outsider a narrowed glare. “Don’t treat me like the child I was so many years ago, I’m much older now and I don’t need the sympathy from you or anyone else.” With that she angrily strode towards the door, leaving the whale god to ponder on her words as she started her day early. “I… Emily.” Though he had no words to say, whatever was there, stayed.

[pikapeppa]

Hi! This isn't a request or anything like that, but I just finished the entirety of Chamomile and Gwent and I am filled with warm, happy thoughts about Geralt and his wifey! And I was thinking, since Geralt can't have kids anyway and Reader is also hinted to be unable to have kids, what if a few years later during their travels (maybe they're traveling for the holidays) they pass by a village that has been terrorized by monster attacks (in my head it's a werewolf that's exhibiting bizarre behaviour but that's just me) and as they investigate, they happen upon a baby (in my head it's a little boy) that's barely a year old, face scratched up but otherwise unharmed. Reader insists on caring for it alongside the village's very old midwife-slash-healer while they try to figure out what's happening and why it's happening. The child has been left an orphan because of the most recent attack and the people of the village are either superstitious and think they baby's a demon or they think its cries attracted the monster in the first place so for everyone's safety it needs to go somewhere else where it's safer and ta da! Geralt and Wife™ end up with a baby😂 I don't think I could ever write (and publicly post) this idea so I thought I'd share it with you instead if that's okay with you. At this point I think I'm more in love with the Reader in your story than Geralt LOL and every time she just gives her bleeding heart to anyone who's suffering I give my computer screen heart-eyes haha but I also love the idea of Geralt with a little boy! His relationship with Ciri is so beautiful and heartwarming to me but I can't help imagining him with a boy too! A little Vesemir Jr maybe lol. What do you think about this idea? I hope it's okay that I'm picturing the characters in the way you've written them in my head for this! I hope this made sense since English is not my first language and sometimes I'm not sure how to translate it from my mother language to English.. I've been reading your works on Ao3 much more regularly than looking at your Tumblr account since I don't use this website so I'm not sure I understand how to navigate it in case you have rules or guidelines for this blog. Apologies if I've overstepped!

OKAY THIS IS SO SWEET.

First of all, I'm so thrilled that you enjoyed Chamomile and Gwent, and I genuinely love the idea of people fantasizing about Geralt and Reader's future together and what you think it might look like! The fact that you basically came up with a whole story for how they might pick up a kiddo during their travels? HELLO I'M SO FLATTERED 😭❤🙏

I'll be perfectly honest, I'm not much a kid-fic writer, but this scenario is so sweet that I had to write you a little drabble -- see below the cut!

It’s a peaceful winter morning at Corvo Bianco. You’re warm and cozy in your bed, drifting in and out of a dreamy doze with Geralt’s warm naked chest pressed to your back, when you hear the distinct sound of the front door creaking open.

The sound of the door doesn’t disturb you, though. What disturbs you is the loud and slightly-sarcastic voice that follows. “Yoo-hoo. Honey, we’re home.”

A second, deeper voice follows. “Shut the fuck up, Lambert. They might be sleeping.” 

“Not anymore,” Geralt groans, and you know why he’s disgruntled: the voices in the hall have roused the child who was, until moments ago, sleeping soundly in the cot beside the bed. 

He’s awake now, though — awake and starting to fuss. You throw back the blankets and sit up, but Geralt is quicker than you: the child is already in Geralt’s arms, his whimpering quieted to a happy coo as Geralt bounces him gently and pats his diapered bum. 

“See, there you go,” Geralt murmurs soothingly. “Nothing to fuss about. Not until you see Lambert and Eskel’s ugly mugs, at least.”

You tut playfully at him as you put on your dressing gown. “Don’t tell him that they’re ugly. All three of you are perfectly handsome, scars and all. All four of you, I should say,” you add, and you drop a kiss on the baby’s dark-haired head. 

You reach for the door, but before you can open it, Geralt touches your waist. “Hey,” he says. “Where’s mine?”

“Your what?” you say in surprise. 

“My kiss.”

You shoot him a grin, then pop up on your toes and plant a kiss on his bearded cheek. “Apologies, master witcher. How could I have forgotten?”

He smirks and gives your butt a tiny spank, and you grin cheekily at him before opening the bedroom door. “Welcome home, boys!” you say, and you hurry over to kiss Lambert on the cheek. 

“Hey,” he says, with a pat to your back. “So this is the brat, huh?”

Eskel scoffs. “Real nice, asshole.”

“Eskel, language,” you scold.

He grimaces. “Sorry, sorry. Gonna take some getting used to.”  

You smile and kiss him on the cheek before turning to Geralt. “May I?”

“Sure thing,” Geralt says. “All right, Ves, your mom’s got you now.”

Ves burbles happily and reaches for you, and Eskel raises his eyebrows. “Ves? That’s his name?”

“Yeah,” Geralt says. “Short for Vesemir.”

Lambert scoffs and folds his arms. “You guys are soft.” 

“I think it’s a great name,” Eskel says.

You smile at him, then rub Ves’s back. “These are your uncles, little wolf,” you say softly. “Uncle Esky and Uncle Lamby.”

Geralt chuckles and Eskel grins, but Lambert’s expression is surprisingly serious, and his golden witcher’s eyes are on the baby’s face. He studies Ves’s face for a moment, then sighs and shakes his head. “Damn. He got fucked up good, huh?”

He’s referring to the wicked-looking scars on the right side of Ves’s face — long and ragged scratch marks spanning from his forehead down to his jaw: the souvenirs of a terrible wound took Ves’s right eye, but spared his life. 

Eskel grunts. “Yeah, he’s gonna fit right in with us someday.”

“Yes, he will,” you say firmly. “He’s going to be brave and strong like you boys, and just as handsome as all of you. But hopefully with better manners than some,” you say sweetly to Lambert. 

He smirks. “Ah, fuck off.”

“Language,” Eskel and Geralt say.

You laugh, and Lambert’s smirk widens. He rubs the back of his neck, then gestures to you. “Ah, what the hell. I’ll hold the kid.”

You carefully hand him over to Lambert, who holds him rather awkwardly. Ves giggles and pats his face with enthusiasm, and Lambert wrinkles his nose. “Hey, buddy, watch who you’re throwing hands at.”

“He’s got the right idea, throwing hands at you,” Eskel says with a grin. “Here, hand him over.”

“I just got him,” Lambert complains. “Wait your turn.”

Ves burbles happily and tugs on Lambert’s witcher medal. Eskel edges closer and tickles his chubby neck, making him squeal with laughter, and Geralt sidles closer to you and drapes his arm around your shoulders. “Never thought I’d see these two making a fuss over a baby,” he murmurs. 

You smile and wrap your arms around his waist in a loose embrace. In truth, having a baby wasn’t something you had ever expected, either. But if your life with Geralt has proven anything, it’s that the best things can have a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect them. 

[missdreawrites]

Prompt: dishonored, Corvo taking up Mindy on the tattoo offer if you're chill with writing her, and if not, Corvo/Daud/Outsider, post-dh2 era(optional): either man finds a shrine the other secretly visits, and after a while of leaving vague messages for each other, they meet there. The god takes notice. Slash and chaos levels entirely up to you. :)

Okay @dishumored​, finally:

He leans in the doorway, shoulders taking up all the natural light she lets into the underground parlor. “Were you serious about that offer?” he asks her, and Mindy looks up at him.

The old pictures don’t do him much justice, even though he’s hollow eyed and gaunt with the mangy look of too many skipped meals. “’Course,” she drawls, “you helped me and Paolo out, you’re welcome in here whenever. What can I do you for?”His lips quirk up. “A tattoo.”

“Alright, smartass,” she laughs, and gestures to the chair. “Sit down.”

The Lord Protector moves like he’s twice his age, and judging by some of the questionable stains on his jacket and vest, he’s been injured recently. Recently enough that the fabric is still damp. He shrugs out of the jacket and rolls up his sleeve, revealing his right forearm. “Here will be fine,” he says. Mindy hesitates. “You sure you want to do this now?”Attano nods once. “Aren’t many artists in Dunwall I’d trust,” he says, and she grins. “Surprise me.”After another hesitation where Attano simply waits her out, Mindy sets up her station, plugging the needle into the whale oil tank and setting out the inks. She’d had an idea for him since she’d met him, crouched in that tiny alley, and she’s never been more glad that Paolo listened to her when she’d said that the masked man meant them no harm.

Mindy has always inked free-hand, and she glances up at Attano and waits for his nod. It’s easy to fall into the rhyme of drawing and the press and pulse of her machinery. She outlines what she sees in Attano’s amber eyes, pausing only to check his physical state.It’s always somewhat concerning when her canvases don’t make any noise, or when they don’t move even when she knows she’s on a nerve. Attano barely twitches, his eyes on her work, a strange smile on his face. “Some people like to talk,” Mindy comments.

“I don’t talk much,” Attano murmurs, but his eyes move to hers when she looks up again. Mindy finishes the shading and takes a second to switch her inks, swapping out black with dark blue. While the machine cools down, she pulls out a bottle of mead and holds it out. “Here.”

“I don’t drink much either,” Attano says, with a wry twist to his mouth.

She sighs. “Attano, just take the fucking bottle.”

That makes him laugh, and for a second he seems almost human again as he takes the bottle and uncorks it with his teeth. “Most tattoo artists would frown on drinking during the process.”

Mindy shrugs, starting up the machinery again. “Yeah, so do I. If a swallow of mead is going to get you drunk, you deserve it.”

He smiles, relaxing into the chair. “Hardly.”

A week ago, Paolo had taken her, Bruno and Dante to the Upper Aventa quarter after Jindosh’s little accident with his own devices. Attano had been sitting like one of the metallic bird machines patrolling the area; now that he’s relaxed against the seat, he seems almost human again.

The blue smooths into his skin easily, and Mindy wishes briefly that they could get sliver ink into skin without poisoning people. She almost runs out of the blue; she’ll have to buy more when the Duke opens the markets again, but she finishes the tattoo.

“Done,” she says.

A great leviathan dominates the piece, tail curling over his wrist dark blue ink curling around the beast like waves or ribbon. Stars in the negative spaces of his skin are caught in the skin of the whale, spelling out the story of the Outsider. Mindy isn’t stupid, she knows why he covers his left hand.

Attano looks down at his forearm and he blinks slowly. “A leviathan?”

“Seemed appropriate,” she says, and stands.

He flexes his arm, and takes the elixir damp cloth she hands him, wrapping it around his raw skin. “Thank you,” he says, once he’s tucked the ends in neatly. “I… needed this.”

“The tattoo?”

“The company.” He bows, elegant, and far too low for the likes of her. “It should be over soon,” he murmurs, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the scarred knuckles.

Mindy doesn’t have a chance to ask him what that means, before he’s gone in a swirl of smoke, ash, and the scent of salt water.

She hopes the Outsider likes the tattoo as much as Corvo does.

[geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde]

For @thepassifloradiscord drabble challenge!

Warnings: Multiverse madness feat. Netflix Jaskier and Book Dandelion in TW3 Toussaint

-

“Okay but how did I get here? And where exactly is here?” Dandelion flailed his hands dramatically, “This is Corvo Bianco, Geralt’s vineyard and estate in Toussaint.” Head spinning, Jaskier sat down on a nearby chair. “Right. Well forgive the confusion but my Geralt doesn’t have a vineyard and if he did, he certainly wouldn’t be inviting any bards along.” “Well,” Dandelion began primly, curling a blond curl around his finger, “your Geralt doesn’t sound like very much fun, but that’s alright.” The poet leaned forward dramatically, lowering his voice to a whisper, “Mine wasn’t very fun either at first.”

[snowingclouds]

Listen: I need a fic or Drabble just anything with Corvosider and hiding from the abbey. Like Corvo literally is marked and has to deal with the Abbey and they suspect nothing??

Oh woah yeah after the Royal Protector was accused of murder and seemed to vanish and appear at will and blink great distances and now covers his hand, totally not marked. Totally has no connection to the Outsider.

I read the corroded man right, and (spoiler) there’s a scene where they use those music boxes and corvo falls to the ground in pain but yeah sure, he’s not marked or anything.