#calamari hours

[y-rhywbeth2]

Illithid: Biology

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess you can almost always find something that argues against [x]. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest. Frankly these posts may get updated now and then. etc]

Biology | Elder Brains | Culture | Variants WIP

I need a break from elves.

Frankly I think most of this info is on the wiki, but whatever; a compilation of three sourcebooks and some errata.

Life cycle: From tadpole to squid to Elder Brain food; how ceremorphosis is a joy (and also a manageable condition that need not end in tentacles if you stay on top of it)

Psychology: Propaganda hours and one-sided relationships for the tentacled academics; and why the undead make them flip their shit.

Physiology: Internal organs, lifespan, senses and what do you suppose being able to feel with your stomach lining is like?

Habitat: 'On today's agenda: kill the sun.'

Diet: You don't have to live on human brains, asshole.

Reproduction: So how are half-illithid made? WotC, once again, show me the forbidden mind flayer courtship lore.

-

It all begins when a mind flayer lays eggs in the brine pool that houses the elder brain. A clutch of mind flayer eggs consists of a pile of clear eggs, one-sixth of an inch in diameter, bound together by sticky garlic-scented mucus, which float at the top of the nursery (usually around the edges).

After a month these hatch into tiny mauve tadpoles less than an inch long (the tentacles are deceiving, they're not cephalopods, they're amphibians) which live in the brine pool as room mates with the colony Elder Brain. Most will be eaten by the Brain, leaving a handful of survivors (1 in a 1000 are spared).

Without the Elder Brain these tadpoles would begin cannibalising each other, until only one survived, developing enough to leave the pool and become a giant wormy horror that's about as intelligent as a dog that I'll talk about later. Nature is beautiful.

But moving onto the average tadpole who grows up with the Brain: Tadpoles take a decade to mature, feeding on mashed organs fed to them by 'nursery attendants.' Once they're about 3 inches long they're ready to get shoved up somebody's nose. The 'sucker' on the underside of its body which served as a mouth has developed a spiny rim, and four tentacles and webbed growths have spouted from it like a tail. By the time they're mature they look like elongated tiny octopi.

Tadpoles are implanted into the orifice of a humanoid being of appropriate size. Eye, nostril, ear canal, you decide.

Hosts must be mammalian, between 5'4"-6'2" tall and weigh between 130-270 pounds. This means candidates for ceremorphosis are humans, elves, gith, gnolls and large goblinoids. Worry not, the rest of you may still be of service to our glorious mucus covered masters as slaves and food, and advancements in illithid science now allows gnomes to become tiny squid people.

A tadpole in its natural state is about as intelligent as a frog. It proceeds to consume its host's brain, growing in size and intellect and melding itself to the brain stem, replacing that brain as the body's control centre.

The length of the process varies by host, depending on both their strength of mind and physical health and can take from an hour to a tenday or more. Translating mechanics to narrative: as the brain damage develops the infected loses motor control and balance, memory, personality, intellectual capability, emotional regulation and probably emotions in general, and so on so forth begin to go as the person is slowly and utterly destroyed. A restoration spell cast upon them will reverse the damage done, delaying ceremorphosis - in theory indefinitely, but it will not destroy the tadpole. The tadpole is easy to kill, but incredibly difficult to locate as you'd have to go rooting through the brain looking for it which will almost definitely kill the host. Apparently a heal spell is required to cure the condition. Of course if you kill the host and the tadpole pre-ceremorphosis then resurrecting them will bring them back right as rain, tadpole free.

Assuming that doesn't happen: once the brain is gone, the host is dead, '[their] spirit seeks its fate in the Outer Planes' and the body is left to the parasite.

The illithid begins to rewrite the nervous system and physically edit the exterior of its new body (though not the interior organs). Interior function remains largely the same, but soft tissue is overwritten on a fundamental level to the point where it doesn't really count as humanoid tissue any longer. Within seven days you have the finished product. The skin turns mauve and begins to secrete mucus, the eyes sink into the skull and turn solid white throughout, fingers begin to meld together, webbing increases between digits, the human mouth is replaced with that of a lamprey's, and four tentacles are acquired.

Once the host is destroyed the only way to bring them back is the miracle spell: in other words you need to track down a very powerful cleric and convince them to give their god a call and ask for direct divine intervention to rewrite reality so that the ceremorphosis didn't happen. Mind flayers, being sapient beings with a patron deity, presumably have souls. Most illithid believe they don't have souls (or at least not ones beholden to a deity), and insist that Ilsensine and Maanzecorian are just 'ideals,' but the hubris ridden squids are hardly unbiased. The Illithiad talks about it like they do have souls.

The illithid may have picked up some residual memory from the host, a psionic echo of neurons now gone, though considering illithid and humanoid neurology and emotions are incompatible as hardware and programming these memories are going to mean little to them if anything, and mind flayers have no sentimental attachment to the host identity as a result.

You now have a neophyte: a newborn illithid is little more than a tentacled frog that suddenly gained a lot of processing power and a shiny new sapience. It has no innate knowledge of its needs or culture and hasn't fully developed its abilities or adjusted to its form and will need the guidance of its colony as it learns and 'grows up.'

At 21 years old they should be adult ilithid with fully mature psionic abilities and control of their bodies.

An illithid lives for about 135 years, at the end of which it has its brain removed and is thrown into the spawning pool from whence it came where its brain is eaten by the colony Elder Brain. Illithid believe that they will live on forever as part of a union of those who came before them. In truth the Brain just treats them exactly as they once treated their host and victims; by killing of their individuality and personality and stealing their memories and intelligence to empower itself. But kinda worse, because at least the tadpoles aren't intelligent enough to have morals.

Psychology:

It's often believed due to their lack of facial expressions and unfamiliar body language, as well as the flat effect of their 'voice' when communicating telepathically, that mind flayers have no emotions.

It's actually the exact opposite: mind flayers have all-consuming, overwhelming feelings at all times, carefully internalised.

A mind flayer's emotions are not directly equivalent to those of a humanoid in 'feel' (possibly due to a lack of brain and hormones?), though some can be compared for an idea of what they're like. From an outsider perspective the majority of these emotions would be viewed as 'negative.'

A mind flayer experiences fulfilment and positive emotion from a) eating brains and b) pursuing and satisfying their curiosities and taking pride in positive outcomes. Curiosity itself being a powerful drive for their kind, they're all usually studying something. Outside of those two activities nothing gives mind flayers 'happiness'/whatever their version of serotonin is. 'Fear,' 'envy,' and 'hate' are other manifestations of aggression, the same as with most sentient beings.

Another other primary mind flayer emotion is aggression, usually frustration. They are a very easily pissed off people, and the belief that they are the superior beings who should be guiding the world into a Lawful utopia of master (mind flayer) and thrall (everyone else) often leads them to be very grumpy when the world, most bizarrely, does not seem to be in step with their outlook.

Whether it's innate or conditioned (and at what stage the conditioning began, tadpole or illithid) is not clear, but it's described as an 'instinct' for illithid to believe they are inherently superior and all others are thralls and good. Oh boy, the hubris. On the plus side it can be overcome and unlearned.

Mind flayers need socialisation, in a sense. Being telepathic, hive mind-oriented beings they're known to panic when alone in their own heads (such as when being outside the range of their colony).

'Dominion is life' is a key philosophy; 'only through the domination of others can [one] actualise their inner desires, needs, and future goals.' Mind flayers on a base psychological level need a thrall as a kind of mirror and anchor of their identity, not so much for care of the person they're connected to but in order to project themselves onto a being they feel 'intimately' connected to. Being without thralls is traumatic, and mind flayers will usually drop everything to acquire more when they have none. Without thralls the mind flayer's emotional health is destroyed and they just downward spiral into depression and insanity. They will often 'die quietly' in this situation.

Creating a thrall is 'no small matter' and requires the efforts of the entire colony lending their psionic abilities to the one performing the process in order to bring them into the hive mind. The intended thrall is branded with their master's ID and conditioned with layers of psionic brainwashing in repeat sessions, completely erasing their personality and individuality and then reprograming them to suit their master's needs.

While we 'cattle' consider this horrific, mind flayers see this as an act of altruism. They genuinely believe that the 'lesser races' require their dominance for guidance to thrive. Those who are consumed are appreciated; an illithid grants the lesser races a boon by consuming them and briefly experiencing their existence, and the thrall race grants them their 'gifts.'

'Oh, most delicious morsel, perceive my appreciation of your unique gifts...' - A mind flayer, addressing its 'donor'

(Mind flayers that question any of these doctrines of how it's good for the 'lesser races' are subject to immediate execution.)

Illithid do not typically have such 'intimate' bonds with each other. While they are cooperative, mind flayers are highly individualistic and very competitive. While they're known to experience grief at the passing of their people, tentacled academics don't like to share their personal research with the other mad scientists.

They aren't incapable of being decent people.

'...there are some benevolent illithids, though these tend to be reclusive and well-hidden, or magically disguised into other shapes they “wear” almost all the time, just to avoid constant attacks or hostility from others who see their mind flayer bodies and react accordingly. At least one longterm-in-print “human” NPC of the Realms is actually one of these disguised illithids. - Ed Greenwood (I'm not sure who it is, NPCs aren't my forte)

'Rogue' illithid are those who - somehow - break free of an Elder Brain's borderline omnipotent dominion and reclaim their individuality. Some of them, often those with open minds who've lived long and experience many things, come to see mind flayer supremacy propaganda as nonsense and come to respect non-illithid as their equals on par with fellow illithid rather than thralls in the great plan of the universe.

Aside from the gith, the undead are the illithid's least favourite group of people in the universe. This has been downplayed as editions proceeded, but as walking corpses the undead have neither body temperature nor brain activity; This makes them effectively invisible to mind flayers who struggle to sense their presence, and worse, means that they cannot be controlled throwing a wrench in the 'we are the supreme beings' paradigm that informs the entire mind flayer propoganda machine. Mind flayers are absolutely fucking terrified of the undead to the point of psychological trauma, to quote the book, and when informed of undead sightings near their colonies the community will drop all activity to focus on getting rid of them. Preferably by organising a group of thralls trained to hunt them and sending them off to deal with the problem.

'To an illithid’s way of viewing things, it appears as if undead were created long, long ago just to thwart illithid dominance.'

To add insult to injury they're not edible, and if you tried to eat their brain it would be 'like eating a frozen pizza that's still frozen. Not the most uplifting experience.' Or so says Christopher Perkins. Ghouls and zombies on the other hand are probably fine eating their brains.

Physiology:

Mind flayers are warm blooded.

Tall, emaciated looking figures; While they're extremely powerful natural psionicists, in terms of physical prowess they're usually nothing to write home about.

Their tentacles range from 2-4 feet in full length, usually appearing shorter at rest. An illithid's tentacles are very responsive, almost always in motion in response to their inner thoughts and moods. They double as an extra set of arms, and possess the full strength of arms too.

Most internal anatomy, with the exception of the sex organs and any mammary glands, remains and functions much the same as it always has, save that each organ is now wired into the nervous system to a greater degree. Every single organ effectively becomes an auxillary brain - likely because a mind flayer doesn't have a true brain of its own - allowing an illithid greater information storage and processing capabilities. It also allows them an awareness of their internal anatomy rather like everybody else is aware of their external sensory anatomy.

Mind flayer skin is a vibrant mauve; The glands of the dermis are altered to secrete a lot of mucus in order to lock in moisture and keep that delicate amphibious skin covered in a film of slime - which smells of vanilla, onion and garlic. Without this protective covering, for example if lost to the drying effects of the sun or from disease, the mind flayer dehydrates and is at risk of death if not replenished. The mucus also does something unexplained that amplifies a mind flayer's psionic abilities and offers protection against harmful magic.

There's also been something about moulting that wasn't expanded on.

The index finger is lost, for some reason, leaving a mind flayer with three fingers and a thumb. These are tipped with long black 'claws' of cartilage, but despite looking threatening they're harmless. On the feet all but two toes are lost as webbing stretches between them to form flippers. Unsurprisingly for semi-aquatic beings, mind flayers are adept swimmers, though they can't breathe underwater and must surface for air.

Due to the shape of their mouth and the loss of a tongue and use of vocal chords due to ceremorphosis, illithid technically cannot verbalise and communicate exclusively via telepathy and body language (via tentacles). If forced they can shove one of their own tentacles down their throat and force it to function as a voice box and tongue (usually for spellcasting purposes). The sensation is horrible for the illithid and the sound is godawful for those listening to it, so everybody suffers together!

Senses:

The primary sense of an illithid is, naturally, their psionic abilities: primarily detect thoughts which they can use to track living beings around them and communicate.

The exterior remodelling has several effects. The nostrils are lost in favour of tentacles, meaning that an illithid must breathe through its mouth and has no olfactory sense.

Sight: Illithid eyes are covered in a pale film which screens out the light spectrum visible to human eyes, but does give allow them to see in infrared and track heat signatures. Or in 3.5e-onwards parlance due to jettisoning infravision as a concept: they can see perfectly in the dark, but struggle in lighted conditions and see not at all in full sunlight. Due to this lack of vision, illithid 'write' things using a psionic method called Qualith. While it is inscribed, the actual information it contains isn't in the writing it just beams into your brain at a touch.

Hearing: The outer ear is reduced to a barely noticeable ridge around the ear canal over the process of ceremorphosis, which reduces the illithid's auditory capabilities. They're reasonably good at telling what direction a sound is coming from, but struggle to tell sounds apart or pick apart various components within a sound.

Habitat:

As the sun blinds them and dries them out - which is greatly uncomfortable and a serious health risk - illithid absolutely despise the thing. A popular mind flayer rhetoric is that the damn thing should be blotted out. Not just the sun of Toril; the sun of every world across the planes.

They need dark, cool, damp moisture in their surroundings to survive and thrive.

For the time being mind flayers live the subterranean lifestyle, seeking out damp briny caves to make their homes in. Mind flayer collonies are often most at home in the very deepest levels of the Underdark.

Diet:

The downside of this reconstruction of the stolen host body is that the body loses its ability to produce hormones and enzymes - in order for a mind flayer's neurons and organs to function, it must take them from living beings (preferably humanoids). While they're infamous for eating brains, and the largest portion of their diet is brains - from which they can gain most of what they need - an illithid must actually consume a balanced diet of all organs found in the human body. The psionic energies within brains gives a boost to metabolism that allows illithid to effectively go without standard nutrition for the most part. A brain a month holds them over fine.

The brain doesn't need to be humanoid, it just needs to be 'nourishing' enough. Felids and canids and octopi should make a good meals.

However part of the pleasure of consuming a brain is in experiencing the memories of the victim, a sensation often shared with the rest of the colony, and animals rarely provide the same entertainment value. While illithid can get by on a brain a month, and can find more ethical options, the s majority wouldn't do that and eat far more than they need to simply for the pleasure it brings them. They also eat animal brains for snacks in between humanoid meals.

That said apparently 'many illithids over the years have forsaken eating human brains in favour of other diets, and working with human thoughts and memories in other ways.' The details of these diets have been written up somewhere but are currently behind NDAs (can't be given 'yet' was the phrasing).

While most find an illithid mouth scary, rest assured that mind flayers do not bite. Their mouths are too weak to break skin, let alone chew through flesh and bone: No, their tentacles secrete enzymes that dissolve through organic matter, allowing them to expose the organs (the illithid's own mucus protects their own flesh). The lamprey-like structure of the mouth allows them to latch onto the flesh and then they shove their tentacles into the cavity, move the dissolving organ mush into their mouth and eat it.

Reproduction:

Ceremorphosis also edits the reproductive organs. The host's mammalian sexual characteristics disappear as they are altered for illithid use.

Illithid are hermaphrodites and oviparous, every illithid will - on two or three occasions in its life - lay eggs in the colony brine pool. Lore does not go into mind flayer mating practices, so how these eggs are fertilised is not covered. Possibly they self-fertilise. It's also possible that it takes two to tadpole: it could be done in the style of fish, where one lays the eggs and another fertilises them, but considering they're amphibians with a mammalian base structure it's not out of the question that mind flayers fuck. Especially on Toril. It's also not explained why two/three times; if they have a libido at all, or if they go into heat three times in their life, or if the colony simply has a roster that decides who is on breeding duties and when...

Their reproductive system, for those found on Toril, is also apparently compatible with humanoid systems and can produce half-illithid. It's the Forgotten Realms. Everything in this setting turns out to be horny when you dig deep enough.

Underdark assures us that 'most often' mind flayers impregnate humanoids with mad science rather than by 'direct mating.' 'Most often,' not accounting for the minority who decided to go at it the 'direct' way. I have no idea what illithid society thinks of mind flayers with these inclinations (I strongly suspect it's not approved of), nor do I have any hints as to how direct mating with illithid works.

[scrollonso]

fernando alonso wants to know where the 6 calamari are

[vgtrackbracket]

Video Game Track Bracket Round 3

Calamari Inkantation 3MIX from Splatoon 3

vs.

Unary Game from 999: Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors

Propaganda under the cut. If you want your propaganda reblogged and added to future polls, please tag it as propaganda or otherwise indicate this!

Calamari Inkantation 3MIX:

Every iteration of calamari inkantation fucks severely but this is the best one. I need this song in my bloodstream. In my DNA.

[loz-the-noob]

Pictures from Goochy’s train adventure yesterday! We were very excited about the bull in the last picture because it was featured in official Splatoon art!

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

I’m gonna torture Geoff for this not by like the traditional means but by having him wear a BUTTONED SHIRT WITH THE SLEEVES DOWN for his casual outfit. Can’t have his tits out unless he’s performing yknow /j

He’ll combust

NO, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO HIMMM? 🥺🥺🥺🥺 /J

he needs his titties out or he will DIE!!!!!!!

[jorenilee]

Splatoon broskis holy fuck daybreaker anthem. I'm about to cry fr ‼️

I was fighting so hard for my girl frye but like after listening to this 😭 idc anymore, I'm just happy to have this game and seeing how much people care about funny fictional characters in a SHOOTER and even if the devs make weird choices, they clearly care about. Preserving splatoon's identity and emotions and the light-hearted but earnest vibe. I've only known it for a year but damn its made a place in my heart

[snowy-bones]

it’s that time again...! birthday poff hours..!

[eudico-my-beloved]

sory babe. in my defector octoling test subject at kamabo co. era (superjumps into a room full of veiled grineer)

[tchaikovskym]

I've had lazy autumn just to jump in ITS THE SECOND WEEK OF THE YEAR YOU HAVE TO DO 186469 THINGS FOR WORK AND 789 THINGS FOR SCHOOL AND 4 THINGS FOR ENSURING A NICE WEEKEND TRIP AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[palimundo]

I'm never eating calamari again

[y-rhywbeth2]

'llithids do not perceive themselves as creatures of utter horror, but rather as agents of “Order” constantly working toward the betterment of the multiverse through their own manifest destiny of ultimate control.'

And yet an Elder Brain gazed into the thoughts of the Dark Urge, whose entire thing is 'the entire world, ideally all existence probably, should die in fire choking on its own blood' and is one bad day away from plunging their immediate surroundings around them into that bloody chaos which is anathema the the illithid structure and ethos... and it basically fell in love with them. Or whatever the closest equivalent emotion is for elder brains.

Durge is a corruptive influence on the ancient horrors? Does the Netherbrain think it can 'fix them' and reform them to the proper illithid way?

[kittenintheden]

When I Think About You

surprise jorkin it PWP fic drop lol. enjoy.

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Astarion/Reader (You) Word Count: 1550 Content: 18+, jealousy, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation (sort of?), pillow humping, gender-neutral Tav/Reader

AO3 Link

You went to bed early tonight.

Well, earlier than you typically do. Not that Astarion has been paying you much attention. Hardly any, really. You’re just easy to miss.

Notice. You’re easy to notice. Because you’re so obvious.

Obviously annoying, obviously infuriating, obviously determined, and obviously infatuated with him. True, that had been his goal, but hells, you could blush a little less at his come-ons. Even if it does look cute on you.

Not that he thinks you’re cute. Not really.

The others are packing up their gear and turning in for the night. Astarion will take first watch like he typically does, have a quick trance, and get up in the early morning hours for a hunt. Easy. Routine.

So what if he’s falling into a routine with these people. It makes things simpler.

He should check on you. Just to make sure you’re not ill. For his health more than yours. These days, a headache could mean a rapid onset of calamari face. He’s doing everyone a favor, honestly.

When he approaches your tent, his steps slow to a stop as his ears pick up noise from inside your tent. You aren’t asleep.

And by the sound of it – and it’s a sound Astarion knows well – you aren’t alone.

He huffs an irritated breath through his nose. Gods damn it. He really thought he had you in the bag. There’s a shard of something sharp lodged beneath his rib. Annoyance, probably. Disappointment that he’s back to square one. Bitterness that he lost another competition, even when he’s doing what he does best.

Astarion turns to walk away. Takes three steps. Stops. Turns his head back toward the sound.

Who is it?

Who are you with?

He has his suspicions, but might as well take a quick peek to verify. His steps as he approaches are catlike. Not that you’d notice anyway, preoccupied as you are. He won’t look much. Only enough to see who stole his prize.

His mark. Who stole his mark.

Astarion pauses at the far side of your closed tent flap and finds a gap in the cloth. He leans in, eyes keen in the dark, and his mouth goes dry when he sees your hips grinding against someone, the length of your body pressed tight to theirs while you move over them. A blanket covers you both, but it doesn’t hide the passion of your movement.

He jerks his head away, a ball of tension aching in his gut. Ridiculous. He should go kill something. He walks toward the woods.

And stops with a sigh.

Astarion hates himself for it, this burning curiosity to know exactly who you’re riding so enthusiastically. Steeling himself, he creeps back and peeks once more through the split in the fabric.

You’re sitting up, now, showing him the long line of your spine in the center of your bare back as your hips continue to work. Every puff of breath through your lips is desperate, occasionally lilting up in a breathless moan.

Astarion worries his lip between his teeth. The muscles beneath your skin ripple, your blood thrumming so close and smelling so much of you, sweetened with the scent of arousal. If you’d just lean a little one way or the other, he could see who’s working you so… so…

There’s a flash of heat in his core followed by a sparking current of electricity, setting everything alight. He’d been doing his best to ignore the steady swell of his cock, but ignoring it is no longer an option as he goes hard as stone, the length of him straining toward his hip bone. Subconsciously, he cants his hips into the empty air and finds absolutely no relief. He has to swallow back a soft moan of his own.

The rolling globes of your arse are shaped perfectly beneath your thin wool blanket. Sharp, rocking thrusts against your playmate, against whichever lucky wretch currently feels the sticky heat of you while he watches.

Astarion lets his hand drift to the front of his breeches and sucks his breath in through his teeth when his palm grazes firmly over the covered head of his cock.

 You run a hand up your side and feel your own chest, maintaining your rhythm as you whimper.

Astarion’s fingers move to loosen his laces, lips parted as he begins to softly pant.

Your hand moves back down and you’re… yes, you’re putting your fingers between your legs, and you throw your head back with a gasp.

His fingers dip below his waistband and he curls in on himself with a huff as he takes himself in hand and begins to pump. Once, twice… ah, gods, that’s nice.

Though being under you would be even nicer.

Lucky sod. Who is it?

The blanket slips down over the curve of your arse, falling to one side and his breath catches as he realizes he’s about to get his answer.

Fabric falls aside and your incredible arse is grinding back and forth. You’re riding yourself to absolute delirium with…

A spare bedroll.

Astarion’s hand stutters to a stop and he doesn’t even breathe as realization hits him. You weren’t with someone else at all. The whole time, you’ve been furiously fucking yourself, grinding needily against your bedding for relief.

And somehow, some way, that makes him even harder. He mouths “oh, fuck” and goes back to stroking himself with renewed vigor. 

You’re desperately aroused, no longer trying to quiet your whimpers as you work your hips in circles against the bedroll while you rub yourself at the same time, your shoulders flushed with need. Your body undulates in wave after wave and Astarion feels quite certain that if he were inside you right now, he’d have come already. He puts his free hand over his mouth, pressing his palm to his lips to keep quiet.

You make a frustrated noise and swing your leg off the bedroll, and for a brief alarming moment, Astarion thinks you’re about to give up, and there’s no way he could let that stand. For either of you.

But then you shove the bedroll away with a huff and flop onto your back without opening your eyes, which is good news for Astarion, since you’d almost certainly see the silhouette of him outside your tent if you were paying attention. Instead, you spread your legs wide and give him a glorious view as one hand returns to its place between your legs and is quickly joined by the other.

Astarion shudders out a breath, the sound thankfully masked by your own rapid pants as you stroke yourself with one hand and trace around your entrance with the other. When you push two fingers inside and begin to pump in and out, Astarion’s knees threaten to give out as he picks up his pace. The tide of pleasure in his core rises and threatens to crest.

Gods, gods, he isn’t even fucking you and you’re still going to make him come before you do.

Your pretty little moans are too much. Your furrowed brow, your flushed cheeks, the way your thighs twitch and your belly shivers with the pleasure you’re lavishing on yourself. What a beauty you are, what a treat, what a-

“-arion,” you whisper, so quietly that he nearly misses it.

“Hah,” he breathes, his pleasure shuddering right on the edge of its peak. His mind must’ve filled that in. There’s no way you said what he thought you said.

He presses his face to the split in the fabric and leans against the tentpole, jerking himself firmly as he watches you arch your back up off the ground, lifting your hips into the air again, again, again, until your hands slow.

“Oh, Astarion,” you whisper just before you slam back down to earth and groan out your release, your slick making your skin shine in the low light.

“Sh-”

Astarion slams his hand over his mouth and ducks to the side, sinking silently to the ground around the corner of your tent just before he creams himself, a pulse of spend striping the ground beneath him, followed by another, and another. His head hangs heavily before him as he catches his breath and dazedly tries to piece together what the fuck just happened.

He sits back, chest heaving and ears ringing.

Then whips his head to the side when he hears you stir inside the tent and tentatively say, “... Hello? Is someone there?”

Astarion holds his breath, which does not help with his current state of floaty lightheadedness.

Then you say, “... Astarion?”

And the sound of his name on your lips sends another ripple of pleasure through him as his cock pulses and drips one last time for good measure.

It takes a minute, but you eventually convince yourself you were hearing things and settle down to sleep, presumably in a more relaxed state than when you first retired. Astarion waits until your breathing slows before he sneaks away, silently tucking himself back into his clothes.

He holds his breath the entire time.

On the other side of camp inside the safety of his own tent, he releases it in a rush, running his unused hand through his curls as realization finally catches up to him.

“Oh, no,” he whispers.

[wellen-katze]

Masterpost for all my BG3 fanart

You are probably here for it so here is a list of all the Baldur's Gate 3 Fanart I did so far, please enjoy! whew, that was a lot of work

Comics:(last update 19/04/24)

The circle of degradation - bg3 comic astarion, cazador

Weeping of a bhaalspawn - bg3 comic original Dark Urge Tav

astarion dialogue spoilers

Compassion - bg3 durgeTav, Astarion comic

A fun show - bg3 Astarion comic

Why not - bg3 Astarion, Tav comic

Lae'zel, Voss comicstrip

Needle and thread - bg3 comic Astarion, Halsin [TW SA themed]

the funniest pictures are created(...) - bg3 Astarion, Karlach, Wyll, Shadowheart, Gale, Lae'zel

Moon and stars - bg3 Astarion comic

Farewell of a wizard - bg3 Rolan (Gale) comic

Don't you fret - bg3 comic A.Astarion/dark urge

Hope is for the living - bg3 astarion comic (remake)

Words to care - bg3 comic, Astarion

Lae'zel the artist(?) - Astarion, Gale, Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach

Filth - bg3 comic, a.astarion, dark urge

Pondering and caring - bg3 comic, astarion

Love of my life -bg3 comic, astarion

Ascended Minds - bg3 comic, Dark Urge x A.Astarion

How it might have started Tav, Jaheira, Astarion, Shadowheart, Gale

Pondering and hatching - bg3 comic Lae'zel , Karlach, Astarion

It's raining - bg3 comic, Gale, Astarion

Far away - Astarion, Gale, Shadowheart

Halsin and ducks

Calamari - BG3 comic, Astarion, Gale

Temptation - BG3 comic, Astarion, Tav 'Yaris'(by Iruka/Sabu)

Bookclub part 3 - Astarion, Gale, Volo

Yellow flower - A.Astarion

Arrow - Astarion, Durge Tav ,Gale Karlach

The past of a magistrate - astarion, durge, wyll, shadowheart, karlach, gale

Taters! -bg3 Karlach PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

Bookclub-time with Gale,&Astarion

The golden hour - bg3 Cazador, Astarion comic

I love you - , astarion,tav

A faint whiff - astarion,tav [tw trauma]

bg3 doodle comic about stupid Tav things2

bg3 doodle comic about stupid Tav things

Family runs through the magic - bg3 rolan,cal,lia comic

Death, life and fun -Astarion, Arabella, Withers, Gale PART1 , PART2 , PART3

Cold skin, colder heart - astarion bg3 doodle comic

The office meme, Astarion, Tav

Not the religious type - bg3 astarion comic

The meaning of Gale of Waterdeep, Tara, Gale

Curse of a vampyr - bg3 a.astarion, tav comic

AstarionxDragonborn Dark Urge lap scene

Path down to the heart - BG3 Dark Urge, Astarion comic [TW blood, violence]

The freedom to love - Astarion,durgeTav bg3 comic

No one is allowed to eat from Tav's buffet lol - bg3 shortcomic

Circular scars - Cazador, Vellioth BG3 comic [TW violence, blood]

Nibbles - bg3 comic [Shadowheart origin spoiler]

The library of a million realms - bg3, Astarion comic [TW trauma]

The fortuneteller - Astarion, Tav

The worst podcast - bg3 comic [epilogue spoilers]

God Gale as a motivational coach and his guest Astarion

POV you are having a very romantic date with Astarion lol - bg3 comic

Durge, Astarion and a bhaalist worshipper, bg3 shortcomic

Dark Urge&A.Astarion PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4, PART 5

Gale's burden - bg3 shortcomic

Bloodtalk -Astarion, Dark Urge,

Gale, Tara and Catstarion

The box - Astarion,Tav bg3 Comic [TW Trauma]

Astarion&Shadowheart, scars, river and talk

Gale and Astarion's Bookclub

Lae'zel is not smiling, you are smiling! -Karlach, Lae'zel, Tav

Bg3 Clown comic - Tav, Astarion, Shadowheart

Gale meets the kids - Gale, Tav, Shadowheart, Astarion

Astarion and the Gur scribble

Gale and his children

Astarion short comic [TW sa themed]

A short Shadowheart comic

Old Astarion comic - Cazador, Astarion

Ravishing Mirror - S.AstarionxA.Astarion R18! (Patreon shop)

Other:(last update 19/04/24)

kisses and hugs for gnome tav, Karlach, Astarion doodle

Shadowheart, nocturne FA

Astarion confession scene, break-up FA

Astarion face doodles

Astarion with child doodle

minthara doodle

A moment of disgust, Astarion FA

7000 pieces, Astarion FA

Gale doodle

Astarion FA

Tav Meme

Midnight chimes, eh? Astarion FA

Astarion Fa

Astarion Fa

Gale would still marry you, if you were a worm

Gale and Tara weee

Catstarion has nine lives

Very serious first 1000 words

let me know if there are any mistakes

[aka-indulgence]

take my hand.

Thank you @skelliefanatic for the lovely commission! ^u^ Here’s a tasty tasty outcode stealing you story owo

(Nightmare!Sans x Reader)

Sans didn’t come. Again. After all you’ve prepared this time, the ambience, the dress, all the bells and whistles. You want to be understanding, but your feelings overwhelm you and you need a moment of peace for yourself.

… But don’t worry. If Sans wasn’t here, there was someone even better to take his place. He promises.

CW: Kidnapping, implied mind influences, minor angst

—————

“i don’t understand,”

Sans stares at the screen, ignoring all the other sounds and lights in his room, a warning indicator glowing on and off.

[WEAKENING DETECTED] were written in bold, big letters in the middle. The borders of this universe have been having issues like this for a while now, something he’s been trying to look into, but today it was the worst he’s ever seen it.

He can’t rest until he’s found the answer. Everyone is relying on him, whether they knew it or not.

In his frenzy, he fails to notice his phone lighting up, neglected on the workbench behind him.

[Missed Alarm]

[Missed Call 2 mins]

[Missed Call 10 mins]

[Missed Call 17 mins]...

*********

The ambience was perfect. The candlelit table. The open air balcony. The stars were starting to show as the sky turned from purple to navy, the sun having set moments ago. It was the perfect romantic dinner.

… If only your date showed up.

You move around the last piece of calamari on your plate, exhaling the well of sadness building in your chest in a long sigh. You felt silly, sitting here alone in your nice clothes and feeling sad. How long have you been sitting here now? Long enough for the waiter to come over and ask you if you had more to order?

You eat the last piece of squid. You were grateful it tasted as good as it was, because if it wasn’t you think you wouldn’tve been able to finish the whole plate. You meant to share it.

Did he forget again…?

It’s a strange feeling, being a little hungry while having no appetite. The small plate of appetizer didn’t fill you up, but… you really wanted to eat with him. You’ve even waited before you got this appetizer.

A minute turned to five, which turned to fifteen, then thirty… now it’s close to an hour. It’s upsetting, having an empty stomach, surrounded by good-smelling food and not feeling like you can eat.

You knew that logically, no one was really paying attention. Apart from your server that isn’t paid to judge you, you knew no one would really notice you. But still, you could feel your cheeks run hot with embarrassment, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that people were looking at you. You were wearing something nice- an asymmetrical white dress, accented by a small black belt around your waist, with shiny black heels- sitting in this balcony area with a table for two. You were surrounded by couples who had the same thought you did, that this was a lovely place to have dinner with someone special.

Eventually, you let out a shaky breath and put the fork down. You stand up, and make your way to the stairs down from the balcony.

“S-sorry, I’m coming back. I just need a moment to step outside,” you say to your server, trying to keep your voice from cracking. He nods and you give him a shaky smile, before hurriedly descending down the steps to the gardens.

It was quite dark. There were some ornamental streetlamps on the pathways, but they were sparse and spaced out from each other. Most of the lights were outdoor lights, lighting up the bushes, little pockets of light. It seemed no one else was in the garden.

Finally, privacy.

You make your way to a bench right under a lamppost and sit on it heavily, allowing yourself to sag.

You knew that Sans gets busy a lot. He had projects that he’d excitedly tell you about, and he’s gotten more work as a scientist lately, something he told you he thought he’d never get back into. It’s exciting. Sans told you he had a lot of things going on right now. You were happy for him, you were happy he was reigniting his long forgotten passion. You were just… looking so forward to this.

You feel silly too, you don’t want to be too upset about this- you want to be understanding! You’re not even an item with Sans yet. But you wanted to be. This would be a huge leap, it was a big date. It felt natural, knowing Sans for as long as you did. You fantasized sitting there with him, you’d be laughing at him making knock knock jokes at the table, he’d spill ketchup on his clothes and say he looks better that way, you’d be watching how the light danced over his face.

But he wasn’t here.

Your eyes stung, and you felt mist building. You quickly wipe them away with your fingers- you didn’t feel like crying right now.

Your phone opens with a click, and for a moment you have to shield your eyes. The screen was too bright for your now-sensitive eyes. You open your messages app to Sans’ contact, refreshing it to see if anything’s changed.

No response. You had the last message, and Sans hasn’t answered in the last two hours.

You frown, your heart feeling heavy.

I don’t think it’s happening today, you finally admitted to yourself. I guess we can just do something else some other time. Something smaller

You suck in a breath (and a tear for the matter,) and click away on your keyboard.

You: Hey, are you busy?

You: Tell me if you are ok? :)

Your fingers tap against the back of your phone as the messages load, three dots bouncing over your message. It sends.

You wait for a few seconds, expecting to see… something. A reply, a read sign. Neither happens.

You sputter and deflate, turning your phone off. You’ll have to talk to Sans some other day- for now you needed to gather yourself and come back to your table. Maybe you could just buy a meal for yourself; you were already here, might as well take advantage of the delicious food you’ve spent half your day fantasizing about.

You must’ve been very engrossed in your phone, because you hadn’t noticed that someone was nearby and you jolt when a voice suddenly speaks.

“good evening. may i ask why a beautiful woman like yourself is all alone out here in the garden? it seems quite the lonely place to be instead of the dining room,”

His voice was deep, yet soft, almost hypnotic. Like a voice you could imagine sending you off to sleep. Despite his sudden appearance, there was an inviting tone to his words that drew you in.

“O-oh,” you blushed, fixing your hair. You wondered how much of your emotional turmoil this stranger saw. “Yeah. I just needed a minute,”

“you look troubled. what’s the matter?”

You sigh, hiding your frown behind your fingers. There was no reason to lie, so you tell him, “my um… my date didn’t show up. It’s been an hour,”

He made a sound of pity. “you poor thing… that’s a shame, really. what sort of fool would pass up on a woman like you?”

“I… oh,” you giggle nervously. It’s a bit embarrassing how quickly your mood brightens from the pretty words this stranger was giving you. You find your cheeks turning warm and you couldn’t stop the smile growing on your face. Any other time, if you found yourself sitting alone in a dark place and a man approached you, you would’ve been frightened. But, there was something about him that made your walls crumble. Maybe it’s because your date missed you again and you just liked the attention this man was giving you.

You try to get a proper look of him, but you couldn’t quite make him out. He was standing in the shade, just out of reach of the lamppost’s light, standing beside a big bush. Even so, it was strange. He looks to be in complete darkness, the shadows that fell on him and surrounded him left him completely featureless… almost. The only thing that you could see was a vague silhouette that seemed to shift and swirl in shape whenever you tried to focus on it, a big grin, and a bright, glowing, cyan eye.

His grin reminded you of Sans. Maybe you just liked wide-grinning monsters?

“if i were him, i wouldn’t make you wait. i’d be there to pick you up and take you here. i would lavish you with all the things you wanted in life… i would treat you better than he does,” he avows. “it’s quite the tragedy that you’re taken by a lesser man,”

You could feel this man was trying to flatter you, and you didn’t want Sans to seem bad. But you still felt compelled. “Uh, actually, we’re not dating yet. This was supposed to be a step closer, haha…”

You could see his eye crinkle. He was both metaphorically and physically brightening upon hearing that.

“oh! is that so?... how would you like if i treated you to dinner?”

“Oh, um, you don’t have to…” you fidgeted with your hand. Besides, you felt guilty about going with someone else while Sans wasn’t here.

“why not? he isn’t here, and you don’t owe him anything. he can’t be upset with you if he missed his chance at claiming you to be his. besides, you could use a little bit of fun,”

You look away, instead having your eyes at the stone pathways, scratching your wrist. He… he isn’t wrong. If anything went wrong you didn’t even have to stay with him. It was ok to have a little fun… right? You deserved this much after he’s missed a meeting with you so many times already.

“I suppose you’re right,” You say uncertainly.

The figure smirks.

“smart girl… i could give you much more than a simple dinner date,” he claims. “i could give you everything you desire. hell, i could give you something better than all that you desired. i could become the man you’ve always dreamed of,”

You raised your eyebrows. He was talking about a lot of grandiose things, and honestly, he sounds like he came out straight from a movie. You were a mix of perplexed and a little intrigued.

“How can you be so sure of that? You don’t even know what I want,”

He chuckles, and takes a step towards the light… only to disappear into the floor.

You stand up, alert, wondering if he tripped or- or something, but then you squeak when you hear him on the other side of you, still cloaked in shadow.

“oh my dear… i am a man capable of many things.” He chuckles.

Oh. He could teleport like Sans?

“Ahah,” you laugh nervously. Were you just interested in people that were somewhat similar to Sans? Why was it alluring you?

The stranger taps on his chin like he’s trying to make a guess of you. “forgive me if i’m a bit presumptuous, but you seem like a lady up to my speed. would you like to travel? to see the world?”

Just as he speaks them, you could see them in your mind’s eye, more vivid than you’ve ever imagined them. You see the seaside. Fields of flower. A great mountain. Colorful architecture you’ve never seen before.

“I… do…”

“i don’t think you’re the type for a lavish life but… wouldn’t you like to live deliciously?” He offers. “you don’t need gold, jewelries, a mansion, i’m sure, but. i think you’d like to live in a way where you don’t have to worry about any material thing ever again?”

“O-of course, everyone wants that,” was he rich? Was he offering you his worldly possessions? “But you’re right, that’s not what I’m looking for, not right now.”

It’d be nice. It’s a dream everyone has, but right now you really just wanted someone to-

“of course. you want someone to love you? i can provide that.” He smiles. “i would never let an esteemed woman like yourself be neglected. i can be an excellent lover. i’ll give you all the affection you could ever want and more,”

You press your lips and pinch your dress. It sounds so good, too good even. Did you really want to go with this man you’ve never met before? You don’t know him. But you could feel you soul being tugged towards him, you want to experience all the things he’s saying to you…

It sounds like a dream you want to live in.

B-but, you thought, but Sans,

“we don’t have to think about him anymore,” the stranger interjects, as if he could hear your thoughts. “why stay with him when he isn’t giving you the time of day? you aren’t even with him and he’s already being inattentive,”

He scoffs.

“i could give you so much more than sans ever could,”

“I… what?” You felt a sudden chill run over your skin. “H-how… how do you know his name?”

The stranger smiles casually, warping to a different spot in the shadows. It feels like he was surrounding you.

“i’m simply a man that knows many things, my dear,” he chuckles.

“and why would you give that pathetic monster the time of day anyway? he’s slow, he’s lazy, he’s unrefined. when he isn’t face deep buried in his research, he’s telling uncreative jokes. he can’t even keep track of time. he gets snarky with humans, he- he doesn’t deserve you,” he speaks very fast, every word spilling out of his mouth laced with more malice and venom.

You feel frozen in your spot as he regains his composure. He closes his eyes and takes a breath, light flooding back into view, and something retracting into him.

After a few moments, his smile returns, and his gaze falls back on you. The fear you felt quickly gets chased away, like… just seeing that smile could comfort you. You don’t feel like running anymore.

“i’m so sorry for that. i simply just want the best for you, darling,” he purrs, “don’t worry. with me, it’ll be so easy. you want your dreams to come true, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you say, all dreamy-like.

“of course. all you have to do is take my hand,”

For the first time since he appeared, he extended his hand into the light. Even so, he was still the color of midnight. His sleeve, his… bones?

“i can be anything you like,”

His face emerged from the shadows, a skull.

Your heart stopped.

He looked exactly like Sans. His grin, his sockets, his round skull, his face-

You broke out of whatever sense of security you felt and took a hasty step back. Suddenly everything felt wrong, it felt like you just raised your head out of a sea of sludge, that you could finally see things clearly now. Your body was screaming now, that this stranger was far more dangerous than you could’ve imagined.

You walk backwards slowly, and with a shaky smile, you try to end things amicably with him.

“Th-thank you for the offer… sir. You have been very kind and it sounds so wonderful, b-but, I think I’ll have to decline for now. I need to get back to my table, I’ve made them wait too long…”

You turn around to escape to the restaurant, and you miss how his smile fades.

“... wrong answer.”

You scream when something wet cinches around your middle, and you would’ve tumbled if it hadn’t squeezed you so tightly. You pull against it, and you only have a moment to look at it- a slimy tendril, covered in what looked like tar- before you’re yanked away and forced to turn towards your assailant.

The stranger walks fully out of the shadows this time, revealing that he was completely covered in the same black sludge that dripped down from his tendril. It wasn’t just his face that looked like Sans. From head to toe he was a spitting image of him: wearing a jacket and shorts just like your favorite skeleton but wrong, corrupted. You watched in horror as three more identical tentacles snake out of his back, flailing in the air, droplets of ooze falling and fading on the pathway. He looks disappointed.

“it’s a shame, really,” he laments, his voice sounding richer and more otherworldly than before. “i wanted to make this a dream for you. i would’ve gone against my very nature to make you happy. but you just had to make this difficult for yourself…”

He smiled pityingly at you.

“i apologize for the nightmare to come,”

He starts to sink into the puddle forming under him. Nothing but blind, hot white panic filled your very being as the rest of his tendrils snatched you around your wrists and ankles, screaming as you’re dragged in along with him. The sounds of his wicked laughter ring all around you, his eye alight with twisted delight. You turn around and fall against the floor, trying to claw your way away from him, whining when your fingers can’t find purchase. You feel his phalanges wrap around your leg, and you scream as you’re pulled down into the darkness.

The garden falls silent.

…

Sans rushes into the restaurant in his labcoat, phone clutched in his fingers. He’s sweating, rushing towards the balcony area the receptionist told him you’d be.

“w-wait (y/n), i’m here!”

He… stops. Your table is empty. There is a cheque on top of it, stained with black ink in the corners.

It’s been paid.

[galactic-rhea]

I haven't read The Queen's trilogy yet, so most of my knowledge of Sabé comes from Wookiepedia and fanfics, and I know the fandom consensus is that she and Anakin can't stand each other for Obvious Reasons, or at the very least in a "I hate my best friend's boyfriend" way, but as someone that always found the last trope kind of annoying and boring, I actually think they would bond very well while waiting at the ER.

Like they will just sit there trying to be normal while Padme gets checked by the doctors, like they are just quiet angrily looking at the wall as someone that was bitten by a radioactive tooka passes first and as a whole man-size tank of water for a mon calamari gets pushed, and then Anakin just off-handely passes Sabé a nutritive bar thing, and Sabé just passes Anakin a bottle of water because they will be hours there, then he brings caff, and then she brings him one of these books with puzzles and find space -waldo because she knows that guy absolutely has ADHD, like that's camaderie buddy.

"I told her to not try that"

"I also told her to not try that"

And they just nod because of course they did. And that's it, they bonded over bitching about "She never listens to me but I kinda into that tbh, but also it's bad for my blood pressure".

They probably would enjoy to share a space beer and talk about the most strange and random yet normal thing ever like "did you know the Crafuxeratus billis is so acid it can effectively melt away wood and enough of it some metals, so its stomach tissue has been used in armor wear" And then never share a word again for like a year.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: Azul inks on a date with you and you share a moment in the lounge's bathroom.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: i wanted to write a little drabble of azul inking (IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 500 WORDS MAX!!!!!!!!!!) and it ended up being over 1k oops

All Azul wanted was a nice date with you.

After spending no less than an hour in front of his vanity, combing his hair to make sure it was just right, he’d fretted over which shade of purple bow tie to wear. The Leech brothers invaded his room to accost him occasionally, which Azul did not take kindly to. He had looked over every inch of himself in the mirror before actually presenting himself to you, thanking the stars above he was wearing gloves so you couldn't feel how sweaty his palms were.

He also did not take kindly to them barging in on your date as the waiting staff in order to tease the two of you relentlessly.

Perhaps selecting the Mostro Lounge as his venue wasn’t the best decision, in hindsight.

It all comes to a head when the Leech twins “mess up your order,” serving you calamari instead of the dish you’d selected. Azul tries to breathe, but he’s so overwhelmed that his plan to make this a beautiful night is going up in flames and he can’t do anything about it because the Leech brothers march to the beat of their own drums.

“Azul?” he hears you whisper from across the table, eyes wide with gentle concern, “Are you okay?”

“Oooh, would ya look at that, Jade!” Floyd cackles, “Azul inked!”

Jade chuckles politely, eyes closed in a devious smile. “It would seem so, Floyd.”

Azul gasps, grasping at his chin. It’s slick, and when he pulls his hand away his glove is stained black. Azul practically throws himself out of his chair and runs to the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Great. Just great. Leave it to Jade and Floyd to push him to the point of ruining his date himself. Azul grabs a handful of paper towels and runs them under the cold water, dabbing at his face in the mirror. His eyes are bloodshot and he can feel the ball in his throat that signals tears. He doesn’t let it burst. All he needs is to compose himself, and then he’ll apologize for how gross and unnatural that was.

“Azul? Are you okay?” he hears your voice on the other side of the door.

You sound so worried. It’s a sweet thing, being worried about. But it also makes Azul feel even more pathetic.

“Please, don’t mind me. Return to your dinner. I assure you, I’ll deal with these...ah, unpleasantries, and if you still wish to continue the evening we will do so.” he says all of that in one breath, and tries not to feel too relieved that he managed to get the words out without stuttering.

“Azul, it wasn’t unpleasant. It’s natural for octopi to do that, isn’t it? Besides, I think your ink is pretty,” you say, and you say it so brazenly that Azul almost chokes on his spit.

“It is not pretty, angelfish. Now, please excuse me!” he squawks, furiously wiping away the excess ink still left on his chin.

You say nothing else, but he never hears you walk away. You’re still standing out there, but you’re not coming in either, and Azul doesn’t know which one is worse. Does he have to face you? Can’t he just smooth-talk his way out of this? There’s got to be some way he can get you to leave.

There isn’t. He knows there isn't. If there’s one thing Azul knows about you, it’s that you’re persistent.

And so Azul huddles in the corner and sulks. He sulks just like he did in his childhood, he sulks just like the pathetic little octopus he tried so hard to defeat, he sulks like a man who wishes he wasn’t a slow, clumsy octopus.

“Azul?”

And you’re still out there.

“Azul, you’ve been in there for too long...and you’re not responding.” you murmur, and the doorknob rattles, “I’m coming in.”

He wants to yell, to tell you to go away, but his voice dies in his throat as you open the door. He scrambles to his feet as you walk inside, his knees shaking and palms sweating. Your fancy shoes click across the tiled floor and you reach him in seconds.

“I said not to come inside.” he hisses under his breath.

“No, you told me to go back to the dinner table. You said nothing about not entering the bathroom.” you reply, and Azul gnaws at his lower lip.

You’re right.

“I was worried about you.” you whisper, gaze softening, “I know Jade and Floyd were putting some stress on you—”

Understatement of the year.

“—but I still thought it was fun.”

“You what? How was any of that fun!?” Azul huffs, face blooming red again.

“Because it was with you.” you murmur, staring so deep into his eye he thinks you might just find his soul and pull it out of him, vulnerable and on display for you to do as you please.

You take his hand, you take his ink-stained glove into your hand and squeeze, smiling at him like he’s never made a single mistake in his life.

“Everything is fun when I’m with you.” you whisper to him. It’s a quiet sentence, one said with reverence for the moment you two are sharing in the bathroom, but it rings as loud and clear as a declaration in front of a silent, anticipating crowd.

And Azul thinks you just might have pulled his soul from its place in his body because his heart gives a soft twitch that can only mean he wants to believe you.

There are still bits and pieces of the octomer that was turned hard and cold by the cruel merpeople below the depths. There are still pieces of him that think about how cheerful and happy he used to be before the kids he knew turned on him.

He wants to believe you.

He doesn’t yet. You know he doesn’t.

You cup his cheek where the ink was before and stare at him like he’s the only man in the world, and Azul feels his knees go weak. He needs more of this. He needs you.

Azul is a notoriously greedy man, after all.