#he needs to be paid for the labor he does

[abandonedknowledge]

okage shadow king is literally just "hey son, we fucking hate your guts and free will! we're gonna force you to inhabit the spirit of an evil king as his slave for evil doing and send you off <3 good luck!" and honestly I'm all fucking for it.

[sweetnans]

Tsukishima has always worn glasses while you rejected them at the end of middle school, switching to contacts.

He always has his glasses crystal clean. He likes to see what he's approaching. Even when he is so careful with the maintenance of his glasses, you always have a spare cloth in your backpack in case Tsukishima forgets to clean them.

"Let me take care of that," you say taking his glasses off and leaving him helpless for a few seconds.

At the beginning of your friendship, he used to flinch when you did that, but now he just scowls at you, rolling his eyes at your antics.

When you started to wear contacts, he realized really quickly that you hated them. Always blinking so fast and rubbing your eyes made you struggle with the assignments, so he, unconsciously, paid more attention to teach you in case you needed it.

Now, in ocassions, you still rub your eyes, and sometimes that leads to your contacts falling off. Tsukishima, as your long-time friend, always has a bottle of cleanser at the reach of your hand before you start to panic, knowing how your mind works and how you always freak out before using your brain properly.

Tsukishima doesn't know how to have a normal friendship with you. It's like a constant battle of who's more attentive with the other and who's faster to show reciprocity.

Rarely, he forgets his volleyball glasses so when he does, you're ready to put all the episodes of art attack you watched when you were a kid on practice. Against his will and, of course, making sarcastics comments on how you are going to ruin his glasses, you sit him on the bench and start taping the temple tips to a string that goes around his head to prevent it from falling to the ground everytime he jumps.

Everyone thinks you are a genius, saving them from having fewer players for the next set.

Now the marker is not even. He rolls his eyes when he realizes that you are stepping in your unsaid game, so when you two are walking home, he makes sure to buy you an ice cream or two, you know, to compensate your labor

[broodybuck]

Title: The Boy Next Door

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, childhood friends, neighbors, pining, confessions, friends to lovers, first crush

Summary: Growing up, you always had a crush on the boy next door. Now, twelve years later, you might unexpectedly get your chance with Bucky Barnes.

[ao3 link]

Your parents just handed over the house you grew up in. It was that easy, now it's yours.

They want to be those typical, retired parents and move to Florida — boring! And since you've been renting a studio in Brooklyn for the past four years, you jumped at the chance to have a three-bedroom house in upstate New York. It's already paid off and your parents are wealthy enough, they don't need the earnings for their Florida condo.

You've only been back to your childhood home for holidays in the past few years. Everything has stayed the same, your parents were actually one of the few who didn't turn their daughter's bedroom into a home office or gym. They left the pink wallpaper, the twin bed with the floral comforter, and the tower of stuffed animals on the dresser.

When you arrive with your two suitcases and some extra cash in your pocket since you sold all your studio furniture, you stare up at the house. You smile from the warm memories before you glance over at the house next door.

An older boy named James lived there, but he always went by Bucky. Bucky Barnes is the name that lived in your diary for most of your adolescence. He was four years older than you which meant you had an embarrassing crush on him since you were twelve. He was nice, he always teased you when you saw each other, he even acknowledged your existence for the one year you were both in high school together — you as a freshman and him a senior.

That did wonders for your reputation, you became pretty popular even after he graduated. Still, you would've thrown away all the friends and parties for just one night with Bucky if that was a possibility.

You're not sure you ever got over your crush, more just accepted that it was never going to happen and moved on with your life. It was easy once he went away from college and three years later so did you. You never ran into him again even when you were visiting home for the holidays. It seems the Barnes' residence spent their holidays elsewhere as the house was always dark on those occasions.

Currently, it's two in the afternoon and the sun is beating down so strongly, you start to take off your jean jacket. You're sliding your arms out of the sleeves when a familiar voice makes you jump.

"Hey, y/n."

Your arms flap uncoordinatedly, still half in the jacket, pausing in an awkward position as you turn to see your childhood crush standing a few feet away from you. Bucky Barnes, looking sexier than ever.

"Oh, hi,” you splutter.

This man still has the ability to make you blush like a schoolgirl. You do some quick mental math and realize if you’re 27 now then he must be 31. And why do men age so spectacularly? He has somehow managed to become even more attractive in the last twelve years.

"What're you doing here?" you ask as you finally free your arms from the jacket.

"I'm house-sitting," Bucky explains. "What're you doing here?"

"Um, well, the house is sorta mine now."

"Parents gave you the whole thing?"

"Yep, the whole thing," you nod.

"Wow, congrats on the house," Bucky says.

"Thank you," you reply and you both stare at each other in a beat of silence.

"Um actually, since you're around, do you think I could pay you for some manual labor?" you ask suddenly.

"What kind?" Bucky grins fast. It truly takes your breath away, jesus this man should not be allowed to smile.

"I have a dumpster coming tomorrow morning," you explain. "I'm getting rid of my childhood bedroom furniture."

"Yeah, I can help."

"That would be so great, I'll pay you—"

"Don't sweat it. Just treat me to dinner sometime," Bucky shrugs, and your stomach drops. What in the world does he mean by that... like a dinner date?

"Oh, dinner... yeah, okay. You got it," you play it cool and awkward.

He smiles at you, amused.

"Anyway..." you mumble unsure how to retract yourself from this conversation, unsure if you even want to.

"You really grew up, huh?" Bucky says, and he scans you up and down.

"I guess so," you shrug, your face burning. "You too."

"Yeah, guess we haven't seen each other in..."

He appears to be trying to calculate the years but you unabashedly jump in with an exact answer.

"Twelve years."

"Has it been that long?" he asks.

"I... think so," you feign uncertainty.

"So, what time do you need me tomorrow?" he asks.

"Oh, anytime that works for you."

"How about noon?"

"Perfect."

Asking for Bucky's help might've been the worst idea you ever had. When he comes over, he's wearing a cotton-white t-shirt and jeans. His hair is damp and slicked back from a shower. He looks so comfy, it makes you imagine waking up with him. You yearn to know how warm his skin feels fresh from the steam.

You ignore your inappropriate desires and lead him up the stairs to your old room. It's then you realize how many years of your life you desperately wanted to show him your room. Have your crush see these walls, sit on your bed, and make out with you next to your teddy bear.

It's embarrassing but probably every teenage girl wanted the same thing. Unfortunately, the thought slips out of you with a laugh.

"I always wanted to show you my room."

You freeze in the doorway, realizing what you've just said out loud.

"What?" Bucky asks from behind you.

"When I was younger, I meant. I didn't mean... I don't know why I said that, actually."

You turn around and see the look of amused confusion on his face, a small smirk inching from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, fuck it. I had a major crush on you," you confess.

Bucky's eyebrows lift high.

"Yeah?"

"You couldn't tell?"

"I thought you were just awkward with everyone," he shrugs.

"Great, so you thought I was a total loser," you sigh.

"No..." he says quickly but takes a second to elaborate. "If it helps, I didn't think about you that way 'cause you were too young for me."

"Of course, you never thought about me," you brush off, trying not to let your younger self die too much inside.

You step into the room to create any amount of space from this conversation. But you instantly remember the countless hours you spent in here thinking about him. Staring out the window at his family's house hoping the catch a glimpse of him.

"Hey," Bucky says. His hand gently touches your shoulder.

You turn around to meet his eyes which oddly look darker, more intense now.

"I could see myself thinking about you now," he admits low.

You blink, your mouth is suddenly too dry to respond.

"I mean... look at you," he says so fondly that your heart could burst. And he looks you over again, his pupils dilating even more.

Is this really happening, you think.

His right hand hasn't moved from your shoulder. Boldly, you place a hand on his left forearm and you're right, his skin is still warm from the shower.

You breathe in sharply because just touching him, just standing this close for this long is something you were never lucky enough to get back then.

His eyes are still locked with yours and it's honestly so intense you can't look away even as you see him dip his head, lowering slowly to your lips. He waits, an inch from them, to see if this is okay. Of course, it's fucking okay.

You surge the last inch forward and kiss him harder than you anticipate. He stumbles a step back, in consequence grabbing onto your waist, and pushing forward. He walks you back toward the twin bed up against the wall.

When you fall back onto the mattress, it creaks from old age, but you couldn't care less. Because Bucky Barnes, your childhood crush, the extremely attractive neighbor next door, is crawling over you. And it's glorious, it's enough to make you arch up into him and moan.

He lets out a breathy laugh and then kisses you, his knee slides between your legs and presses down. You moan even louder. You're completely shameless, you are, but this is Bucky Barnes. You're not staying quiet for a second of this.

His mouth moves to your ear and he's kissing down your neck while his fingers slip under your shirt, rolling it up.

Your shirt is off and then you're pants are coming off too. You want to get him out of his clothes but his mouth finds the front of your panties and he's teasing you, mouthing at the fabric.

"Please," you whine.

He grins against your underwear and then slides the thin fabric off and sucks his thumb into his mouth.

When he touches you, he's not gentle. He goes right in and rubs your clit roughly but you're so turned on that it's like a jolt of electricity to your body, you leap up from the mattress.

He licks two fingers then and sinks them right inside you. Oh god, it's so easy because you're so wet.

"Fuck," he mutters, realizing this. He stares down, watching his fingers work inside you. Your skin boils endlessly.

He doesn't need to spend much time working you open and he must know that because it's not long before he pulls his fingers out and hurriedly works the button of his jeans open. He pulls open the fly and pushes them down when you sit up to get his shirt. You're not letting this happen without seeing that gorgeous chest again.

You remember so many summer nights when you got a glimpse of Bucky shirtless. Running through the sprinkles or coming home from a neighbor's pool. He was stunning, even back then, but now... oh lord, now he's filled out. He has a firm, thick chest and a set of perfect abs lining his torso. Because of course, he has a six-pack, you always fall for the most unattainable guys.

But somehow you have him, right here, in your very old, tiny twin bed.

You want to lick a long strip from his navel up to his neck but he doesn't give you the chance. Once his clothes are off, he pulls your legs over his waist and pushes inside you so fast you barely have time to prepare. You cling to him with your whole body, legs and arms. And you moan low.

"Oh god, you're so tight," he husks.

You tighten your hold around his neck, he looks up at you and kisses you. You're basically on his lap so start rolling your hips slowly, getting used to how big he feels inside you.

You push him back until he lies down. And then you're riding him. You're riding Bucky Barnes in your childhood bedroom on top of your pink comforter with yellow flowers.

This is your teenage dream come true and that realization plows through you, making you ride him even harder, snapping your hips as fast as you can over his cock. And it's enough that you get a moan out of him, a low gravelly groan that you immediately fawn over.

His fingertips dig into your skin as you keep riding him fast and hard. You know you're nearing the edge, your head falls with a whimper, you grip his shoulders tighter.

"Fuck, y/n. Come for me," he breathes.

And you lose all control the moment you hear that. Fuck, you come so hard.

"Oohhh, fuckkk," you wail and stop moving to let the orgasm crash through you.

Then his hands lift your ass, just enough so he can raise his hips and start fucking into you.

"Jesus," you hiss and scramble to hold onto him again.

He keeps fucking you, gaining speed and making your eyes roll back from the fact that your orgasm can't wane with his cock repeatedly slamming right into you.

He groans, squeezing the flesh on your ass now and you can tell he's close.

He curses under his breath and then he's coming and still fucking you so hard your vision's blurring.

When he finally slows down, he blows out a long breath. He releases his grip on your ass and closes his eyes, basking in the aftermath of his orgasm.

You can feel his cock twitch one last time inside you. You carefully try to pull off him. He winces as you do, still sensitive. You lean down and kiss him, you can't help yourself.

He smiles when you break to let him catch his breath. Okay, he's totally allowed to smile when he's naked in your bed, you decide. You admire the sight for as long as he lets you.

"Well, fuck," he laughs.

"Yeah, fuck," you agree, smiling. "Not sure if I should thank you for your help yet."

He laughs. "I haven't done anything yet."

"Oh, you've done plenty," you tease and plant another kiss on his lips.

He smirks at you and runs his hands up your sides, gentle and light.

"I'll help you move the furniture," he says. "Just give me a few minutes."

"Yeah, I need a few too," you say. "At least this bed is going out with a bang."

And you both laugh. Then you look at him and already remember what he said to you yesterday. You remember almost every word he's ever uttered to you.

"So, about that dinner," you say.

He smiles wide and just kisses you.

[compact-turtle]

Yandere Farmer x GN Reader pt 2

Concept: Yandere Farmer x Gn Reader

Tw: Delusional Yandere, Age-gap?, Obsessive, Possessive, Brief Nsfw mentions, Underwear stealing thief 😡

Summary: You and Atticus go on a date to town for supplies.

Word count: 1.7K -> Link to PT 1 (Not necessary to read but does help to understand context) Taglist: @velvetvibes @undeadwaters@lemonlimesocks@justloveme@ladywolf44005@azoart

-Yandere Farmer who’s convinced your group that a mechanic won’t be able to arrive for at least another week. The four of you are fine with it since it’s currently summer break. There’s no need to rush back immediately. 

-Yandere Farmer who puts everyone to work on the farm outside. Nobody gets to stay at his home for free (even though they technically paid.) The labor is tiring, demanding and grueling underneath the hot summer sun. It irritates him listening to the city folk complain about a few hours of work. Thankfully, a single look is enough for them to stop complaining. 

- You’re the exception. 

-Yandere Farmer who asks you to complete some house chores. You’re given a list of priorities which range from cooking to doing the laundry. He doesn’t scold you if you don’t complete the list. He can’t bear to see you unhappy. It’s difficult work sometimes trying to finish it all. He’d hate for you to tire yourself out. 

-Regardless of your cooking skills, Yandere Farmer enjoys the meals you make for him. It tastes different when you cook it. Almost sweeter somehow. 

-Last night, you’d asked him if he could take you into town. You wanted to make a special type of dinner but needed some more ingredients. 

-At first, Atticus wasn’t too keen on the idea. He despised going into town. They talked too much and word always spread like wildfire. However, he realized he could twist it into his favor. 

-This morning, he woke up earlier than usual. He made sure to bathe and attempted to wash all the grime off. From underneath his nails to his hair. He didn’t want you to be disgusted with him.

-He donned his prized blue button up with a pair of clean boots. Everything was perfect down to the last hair. You’d be so proud strolling through town with him now.  Atticus double checked his reflection in the mirror as he recalled yesterday’s memories. 

- He snuck into your room after he heard you go downstairs. The door was locked behind him as rummaged through your bag. Honestly, you were going to be his spouse soon so he had no qualms about snooping. 

-The bag was like a treasure box filled with goodies. Atticus wanted to take everything inside but you’d notice if so many items went missing. He settled on a pair of cute red underwear. His breath grew heavy as his hands traveled down. 

-Every scenario ran through Atticus’s mind with the red underwear in hand. You under him. You on top of him. You’d be moaning as he left kisses on your shoulders and neck. There’d be traces of his love on each inch of your body. 

-He jumped when he heard the door knob rattle. It twisted and turned. The intruder pounded on the door desperate for it to open. They tried a few more times. Finally, they gave up. 

-His heart still pounded loudly in his chest as he came down from the lust high. God, that was close. Atticus cleaned up the area and neatly put your items back in the bag. However, the red underwear slipped into his pocket.  

-Atticus examined himself one last time before leaving the room. His footsteps were loud and clomped all the way down the stairs. He noticed you standing near the front door waiting for him. 

- For the first time in his life, Atticus felt odd knots in his stomach. His heart was palpitating when he saw you looking all dolled him for him (At least, that’s what he’d like to believe.)

-You smiled at him. Gosh, you were so gorgeous. The morning sunrise couldn’t compare to you. You outmatched the prettiest flower in the field. 

“You look swell today.” Atticus grumbled out. He inwardly cursed himself for not sounding chipper. 

“You’re so sweet, Atticus! I think you look amazing as well. Your shirt really compliments you.” You beamed back at him.

“Hm.” 

-Yandere Farmer who walks right past you. His face was stoic but underneath it all was a range of emotions. His palms were sweaty and he could hear his heartbeat reverberate in his ears. 

-Yandere Farmer guided you to the red pickup truck outside. His two dogs, Otto and Earl excitedly ran around your legs when they noticed you. They sniffed you trying to find signs of treats. The two dogs were so large that they almost knocked you over.

- Atticus wrapped his arm around you to support your balance. Atticus had always warned you about feeding the dogs treats. Obviously, you hadn’t listened to him. 

“Stop bothering them. Get back to work.” Atticus barked at the dogs. 

“Be nice, Atticus. They’re just cute little puppies who deserve a snack!” 

You grabbed some treats from your pockets to feed the dogs. They yipped happily and munched down on them. Atticus held his tongue as he stared at the supposed puppies. You clearly had a soft spot for those demons. Unfortunately, You had no idea that they were taking advantage of your generosity.

-Finally, the dogs left to finish their duties. Atticus opened the door for you as you slid into the passenger seat. The door creaked as he shut it close. He walked to the driver's side then started the car.  

-You stuck your head out the window as you waved to everyone. You called out for them to be on their best behavior and that you’d be back soon. 

-Your friends tearfully waved goodbye as the car drove off. They were so thankful that you begged the farmer to take you into town. He’d finally given them a day off to relax.  The farmer terrified them to no end. You were the only one who didn’t notice his domineering behavior. In fact, you insisted that he was so gentle and kind. 

“Gentle and kind, my ass” They all thought whenever you gushed about him.

—

-He pulled you towards the farmer’s market near the town square.  Atticus watched as you marveled over the town. It was a quaint place to say the least. Rows of shops lined up against one another with a bright white church standing out in the middle of town. Children’s laughter could be heard along with scolding mothers. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air. 

-You excitedly went off to explore the vendors. Atticus trailed behind making sure to keep an eye on you. There were so many people and he didn’t want you getting lost. 

-He chuckled slightly as you bought items from one booth to another. You seemed like a small squirrel gathering food for the winter. Atticus took the items from your arms and placed them into his bag. 

-His attention was pulled away by a short old woman. Her hair was visibly graying with wrinkles starting to settle in. She grinned as they made eye contact. 

“Hey there, son. Thought you’d fallen in a ditch somewhere since I hadn’t seen your face in a while.” The old woman called out. 

“Apologies for not showing up more, Ma’am.” 

“Just glad to see you doing well. Also, seems like quite the looker you got. Anything serious or just for fun?” 

“Plan on marrying em’ soon.” 

“Well bless your heart. I was afraid you’d be lonely forever. You know, I’ve been praying for the good lord to send you someone. Thankfully my prayers were heard. When’s the wedding?”

“Thinkin’ a few months. Year at the latest.” 

-Atticus continued to converse with them. They grinded on every detail about his love life. He answered as honestly as possible.Maybe over-exaggerating a bit here and  there though. Mentioning how you met due to your friend’s car breaking down and how he heroically saved you a few months ago.

-He clenched his jaw as the vendor raddled on. The vendor was a gentle old woman but her ramblings gave Atticus multiple headaches. It was difficult not to just shut down and ignore them. However, he was aiming for the long game. Patience was a virtue.

“Atticus, I think it’s starting to rain soon. I felt some droplets on my arm. We should go home now.” You said as you came behind him. 

“Well-”

“Dear, you should stay a night in town then. I heard it’s about to be raining dogs and cats out there. Go down to the inn by South St and tell them Donna sent you. They’ll give you a small discount.”  The woman interjected. 

“I’m not sure. What do you think, Atticus?” You asked, staring at him.

“Of course, he agrees. Plus, might give you two some alone time.” The old woman shot Atticus a wink. 

—

-Atticus wasn’t sure what kind of psychic powers that old woman had. When they arrived at the inn, they were informed there was only a single queen size room left. You tried asking for different options but the staff said, there was nothing they could do. 

-You two were currently laying in bed next to each other. (With a pillow divider much to his dismay) 

-Originally, you wanted to sleep on the ground but he refused that. You deserve the best. Plus, what if your neck was stiff tomorrow or your back hurt? He couldn’t let that happen. 

-It took a while for you to relent. Atticus endlessly coaxed and reassured you that it was fine to share the bed. However, you only agreed with the pillow divider as a compromise.

-Atticus could smell the body wash you used. The scent was sweet with a mix of coffee laced underneath. It took all his will power to not press his lips against yours. The image of your face all red with your moans in his ears. Yesterday’s fantasy began to play in his head and he could feel something rise. 

“I had so much fun today, Atticus. I appreciate you taking me out.” You said from your half of the bed. Your voice breaking him out of his trance.

“My pleasure.” 

“I’m so excited to make dinner tomorrow for us. I’ll work really hard for it to taste good.”

“Can’t wait to try yer cookin’. ”

“And Otto and Earl will be so happy for more treats.” 

“I’m sure they will.” 

“And my friends will be so happy to see us safe tomorrow.” You mumbled as you drifted off. 

-His mood soured immediately. There were still pests at home to exterminate. Atticus wasn’t above shoving a knife in their chest or feeding them to his pigs. Still, those methods were extremely messy. The chances of you finding your so-called “friends” were pretty high. He didn’t want to start his marriage off on a bad foot. 

-You grumbled in your sleep. He chuckled then gently traced your face with his hand. 

-Whatever

-He’d enjoy the moment with you now. Those vermin could wait to be dealt with. 

-Atticus leaned down and kissed your forehead. 

“Goodnight, Doll.” 

[yandere-sins]

The Orcas' Tale - Krill's Story I

a/n: I have... not much to say, although you should read the warnings. But I need you guys to know that this is 7.666 words long. I didn't make it this way intentionally, but if that isn't devilish, I don't know what is :')

Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere!Orca Merman x GN!AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Nothing explicit yet just drug-induced neediness and description of a cock doing what a cock does, Size... adoration, Begging), Violence (Thrashing, Breaking of bones, fighting machines, Verbal threats, mention of medical tools, syringes), Getting drugged non-consensually, Description of being drugged up, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Mention of Slavery, Mention of Abuse, Depiction of spoiled Food and Seal Meat, Very long post

"It truly is an impressive recovery of such a valuable resource! Being able to compare the exact date from years ago with now makes for a great opportunity in our research, and now we have two of them! This is your chance to recover from your mistakes all those years ago!"

With pep in his step, your supervisor led you through the long, cagey hallway of the facility, making it almost hard to follow him with all the enthusiasm he was displaying. You, on the other hand, felt nothing but dread as you held onto the notes you had been giving about your new project, almost feeling scared to glance at the papers.

You already knew what they'd say. The mistakes they'd speak of.

Because you were already familiar with the mermen, who had recently been caught by the facility. You freed them all those years ago out of shame and sympathy. And you paid the price, your unpaid labor bordering on slavery. Your choice had been death or continuing their research, and after looking down a gun barrel once, you decided to invest in your studies instead, the company willing to further your education and allow you to continue testing and working with the poor creatures they kept here—albeit with supervision.

"Talent like yours shouldn't be wasted," your supervisor recited the words of the facility owner, but they sounded like a warning coming from him rather than encouragement. 

When he finally stopped at the door farthest down the corridor, you were appalled to see the number on it, finding it less than funny that they'd assigned the same room from years ago as your new laboratory again. All these little digs they made at you never let you forget that they were still angry about what you did to sabotage the facility—as if you could ever. These digs were just there to make you miserable and establish who your life belonged to. You were replaceable, but you wouldn't get out of this alive. If you wanted to survive and have even the slightest chance of escaping this place of horrors one day, you'd have to obey. 

"So do better this time," your supervisor said, smiling down at you smugly as he pushed the door open, the heavy metals screeching with cold, metal bitterness. Bastard, you thought, walking inside the laboratory. The grate floor spread above the large pool beneath your feet throughout the whole room, making your steps audible as you entered. The water was calm, undisturbed—suspicious.

"Oh, also, this one's been really angry ever since we brought him in. Better not let your head get bitten off! Would be a waste. You're too pretty to be a corpse just yet."

You whipped around with a glare, but all you saw was the smug grin on your supervisor's face before he shut the door with a loud bang. A mechanical lock slid into place with a whirring sound before everything became quiet around you. It was strange that they'd leave you here alone after what you did, but then again, there was no way you'd be able to recreate the mistakes you made. Even though you'd never receive any respect or sympathy from anyone in this cursed place, you couldn't help but stare at the metal door, plastered with warnings and reminders to leave equipment in the laboratory before leaving, wishing it would open again and let you out of here.

But that wouldn't happen.

It was ironic that they'd leave you alone with the merman you helped escape before, but the only way out was that door, and it needed a passcode to leave. One you didn't have. You'd eat, sleep, and work as they intended; there was no escaping this, even if the hope never left you. They didn't think you'd make it out alive unless they let you. Much less would you be able to help anyone escape again. Slowly, you turned forward, raising your head to look at the workstation on the opposite side of the room. You couldn't help from glancing downwards every few steps; caution was the only thing that kept you alive in this place.

But even as you made your way over to the station, your shadow undoubtedly making your presence known to the water, everything remained calm. The sound of machines running, keeping the pool intact, and the water bubbling from the pump were all that matched the sounds of your steps and breaths. For a "really angry" merman, this was suspicious. He must have known you were here, yet neither came to watch nor to attack you? You sighed inwardly, thinking about how much of a hassle it would be to actually get him to your examination area if you couldn't fish him out of the pool.

Once you reached the counters with the equipment, you set down the papers you had been given, spreading them out to scan over them. Even if you didn't want to interact again with these pitiful yet obscenely fascinating creatures, you knew that without any results from experimenting on them, you'd be stuck here for all eternity. The expectations were high that you'd find what everyone was looking for, even though the experiments were nothing short of cruel and disgusting. Drugs, surgery while awake, mutilations—those were just a few things you had watched the researchers do to these creatures. And for what? 

Eternal life. 

A fantasy.

How did you know? You were the one finding out that even if their life expectancy was closer to that of turtles, even the merfolks would die one day from old age. There was no such thing as living forever with the help of a mermaid's flesh, tears, or blood, and researching them brought forth interesting facts but not the results that this facility had been constructed for.

And yet, here you were, doing as you were told, trying to find anything that would be deemed interesting enough. 

You heard a splash behind you, making you whip around, trying to make out a sign of life. Even though the floor was raised a few meters above the surface and the partition was closed so nothing could fall in or jump out of the water, it was still unsettling to hear but never see the creature you were locked up with. You knew better than to show fear openly to apex predators like the mermaids, but it had been so long since they let you near one that you could feel its presence—or the lack thereof—frightening you to the bone.

But you had to keep going, no matter what. Turning back to your papers, you spread them out with shaky hands, scanning over the information the first-contact team had collected. A large species, presumably orca-related, male, mature, and chipped. The last fact had been underlined twice, emphasizing the importance of it. This merman had already been in the facility, and they tracked it back to when you had been foolish enough to think you could save them. It had been years. Yet he and another one, as you heard through the grapevine, had come back against any better judgment, making you wonder about the intelligence you knew these creatures possessed.

However, no matter how much information you could absorb through the notes, you knew you were only stalling time. The next step would be getting this creature out of the pool and proceeding with your experiments, but the fear made you hesitate. This merman had been starving for a week in preparation for his exams, and although hunger wasn't a good state for anyone to be in, it was thought it might help to be the one feeding them when you needed their cooperation. Like you'd do with an animal. Unfortunately, they were too clever to fall for these ruses most of the time.

You still had to try. 

Picking up some gloves, you went to the extensive double-doored fridge, pulling out the trays with seal meat on them. However, someone placed dead fish-heads between the pieces in varying states of decay. You took a deep breath, unwilling to give spoiled meat to the creature, even though you'd have to rely on it if you wanted to get anywhere. Picking out a slab of seal meat on the furthest corner of the tray, you just hoped it was mostly uncontaminated as you carried it over to the buttons that would part the floor into an opening from which the merman could be caught. 

You hated pushing these buttons, everything reminding you of the biggest mistake of your life. Sure, you saved three mermen from this cruelty, but look what your efforts got you. 2 of them came back, and you were nothing more than a slave. Nothing turned out to be as heroic as in the books you read.

The metal grated against itself as it parted wide enough to allow feeding. Smaller species could have stuck an arm through the gap, but you knew from the past that it didn't work for any of the large specimens. At least that meant you were safe from an attack for now, though it was debatable how long. The meat sunk further and further down into the blue, but nothing happened. You leaned forward over the gap in anticipation, waiting for any kind of appearance in the wet. However, when the water finally stirred, causing slight waves to appear, it wasn't a shadow that moved through it, and neither did it give any mind to the food. 

You jumped back in surprise, your body hitting the wall next to the buttons, when fingers lurched out of the water, gripping the ends of the partition and pushing them apart. Water splashed everywhere as the merman tried to widen the gap. The metal resisted initially, but even such a strong material bound to an even stronger machine relented under constant pressure. 

As the cool water hit your face, you finally snapped out from the shock, slamming your hand down on the buttons that would close the floor and set the machines into motion to work against the abnormal strength of a merman. The two forces rung with each other for a few seconds before the machine finally did its thing and closed the gap, but it felt like minutes of struggling, of holding your breath in anticipation. 

The merman held onto the metal for as long as possible, and you listened to the gut-wrenching sound of something breaking before he finally let go, the splashing of water dying down. The floor never fully closed, leaving a small gap not even your hand would fit through. Still, you were unsure if the merman succeeded in the end by breaking the mechanical device or if it had been his fingers that broke from the pressure. You wished you didn't have to find out. 

Sinking to your bottom, you took deep breaths, calming yourself. Heart racing and head spinning from the lack of a constant airflow, you watched the water, terror, and anticipation mingling. If the floor broke, it would at least delay your second encounter with this creature for a while. But if not, you'd have given it one more reason to be angry. You watched as his dark shadow—no, body moved through the water, his movements agitated, restless. All you felt was misery, knowing you were causing this distress to him again.

You still had no clue which one of the three it was, although the body was too large to be the smallest of the three "Lyr". Due to the experiments, he had lost a significant amount of body weight and muscles, as well as his mental stability. They would have put him down had you not freed them, as he became a risk quickly. You thought you were doing them a favor by saving them, but you had no idea if Lyr ever made it out in the wild. Judging by the quick thinking and the strength of the orca roaming below you, it was more likely to be either "Nerrocan" or "Krill". Their names were burned into your mind like silent reminders of your biggest mistake and greatest accomplishment alike. 

But the secret was quickly revealed when the merman finally seemed to calm down, swimming out into the back of the room for a moment and giving you time to collect yourself, too. You were still sitting on your ass, none the wiser, when you noticed black and white hairs emerging from further down the pool, slowly, cautiously drifting back towards you. As if on the prowl.

Surely he was waiting for another chance to wreck the floor open and try to escape. There was no reason for this creature not to be out to harm you, and you were such an easy prey, caught in this room with him. Your death wouldn't be mourned, but you also couldn't help pitying this merman, not knowing that your death would probably be his, too. Soldiers wouldn't hesitate to shoot something that was stronger, more deadly, and had too much freedom if they had to, even if it was a valuable species to study. You wondered which merman it was, and feeling a little safer with the floor closed, you leaned forward, trying to make it out.

The most brilliant of red spied out of the water the moment you looked down at it. Unmistakably, like polished rubies, these eyes followed your every move. You watched your own muscles tense and the horror in your expression as you realized which of the three mermen it was before you saw your own gaze fill with sadness in his eyes.

Krill.

The reason you risked everything.

His brows furrowed, then lifted as if surprised, too, although his body stayed submerged, tense and ready to act. There was no way he'd remember you, was there? Despite your doubts, you raised a hand, giving him a silly little wave before addressing him directly. 

"Hello… again."

He said nothing, and you realized he must have forgotten you. It was better that way for now… even if it stung after all you did to help him. 

Holding onto the wall, you got back on your feet, not wanting to be such an easy target and so close to him. He could try something again, and you'd be at a disadvantage if you couldn't even walk. "I'm sure it's uncomfortable, but I need you out of the water for a while. You remember it, right?"

You held your palm above the button that would activate The Fisher, a machine that could detect and catch unwilling mermaids by itself. But you were still close to the opening, so any reassurance from the merman would have been nice to have.

"Go ahead, open that gate again. See where that gets you," Krill threatened, and you believed him. His brows furrowed, teeth gnashing as his anger returned, and you had to realize that he was no longer like the sweet merman you once cared for. Sure, he had been drugged and broken into submission back then, but he had still treated you somewhat kindly, gifting you rocks and following you around the enclosure like a lost puppy. If you didn't know it better, you two had been somewhat close back then, having come to an understanding despite your differences. That was not the case anymore, you could see it.

"You'll see, I'll get out of here, and you'll regret capturing me again."

That hurt. It hadn't been your choice. If it had been your choice, you'd have helped all those poor souls confined inside this facility, making sure that neither merfolk nor humans suffered the consequences of the greed of some rich people. But you had no choice in this matter. You never had. 

Pressing the button, you stepped aside so The Fisher could do its wonder. You didn't want to, but you had to. Didn't want to put him through the same torture again at your hands. But Krill had been foolish enough to get captured again, and you were foolish enough to still hold on to the hope that you could make a change in your life if you obeyed. This time, the machine parting the floor stuttered, and although The Fisher descended from the ceiling, it couldn't open. 

"You are a fool if you think you can capture me with that. Force me to play your little games again, Human!"

Even though you tried to ignore him, it was hard when Krill paced around the opening, taunting you. You had to watch the machines work and fail as the floor was stuck. The Fisher was unable to move as it detected the closed floor, and you wondered how you would proceed if the location became unsuitable to work with. 

With a loud crash, Krill threw himself against the floor, and you gasped as a wave of cold water splashed over you. As you sputtered, you heard the floor grating, the sound painful to both of you, evident by Krill trying to escape it by dropping below the water. But with the sudden opening appearing, the metal claws of The Fisher snapped forward, scanning and detecting where they had to go. 

Until you saw it with your own eyes, you could have never believed such a flimsy-looking machine could restrain the apex predator of the sea, effortlessly capturing him by his wrist, neck, and the space between his fin and tail. Sure, he could throw his weight around despite being restricted, but there was little he could do to hurt you unless he broke free. However, no mermaid ever broke free from The Fisher in your years of working here. It was that effective.

You watched as The Fischer pulled Krill out of the water, shiny droplets of wet falling off of him, elevating every muscle, every toned ab on his belly. He was glistening in the unnatural lightening of the laboratory like a precious gem, and your heart clenched with sadness, knowing there was nothing you could do for this beautiful creature. You had to cover your ears as he began shrieking and cursing, most of it in a language that you never bothered to learn as you'd be incapable of ever speaking it. Siren was more of a singing rather than talking in the first place, and though you liked to sing to yourself, you'd never learn it on a level that could match the skill that his language required.

As you watched him, the first thing you noticed was his size. He had grown, although the rough weight and measurements would be taken by the machine holding him in place. The time in the ocean seemed to have done wonders for him. His fins were intact, and the tag on his tail was blinking despite being such an old model. Since then, there must have been at least seven upgrades over the years, and you'd be responsible for changing it eventually.

Once he was dragged onto the research area, he finally seemed to calm down a little, although he glared at you, fury revealing in his eyes. The Fischer restricted his head movement, but his willpower remained. "You are truly the worst," he sneered. "First, you let us go, then you capture us again. What do you think we are? Your little playthings? Is it fun to mangle us? You enjoy this?"

Testing his strength against the shackles, Krill twisted and turned in the hold, but you tried not to give his words too much attention. He was different from how he was years ago, and you had to say goodbye to the semi-good relationship you two had before, the precious image you had held onto of him. Both of you were fighting for survival, as pitiful as it was, and you had a crapload of tests to run before they'd let you get away from him and pity his fate and yourself. 

With new-found confidence as you watched him rendered immobilized, you returned to the fridge, luckily not encountering any more poor attempts at making life hard for you as you opened the drawers full of tranquilizers. There was yet one to be found that could entirely knock out these creatures, but they had a significant calming effect. And—as you hoped—pain-relieving. Because there were a lot of things you had to do to him that wouldn't be easy for both of you. 

Gathering the tranquilizer shots, various test tubes, tools, and your to-do list on a tray, you carried it over to a table closer to him, taking deep breaths to brace yourself. You were tense, your fingers growing numb from anxiety. You had been assigned to the labs for most of the years, rarely encountering a merman again after what you did. And although you trained for this, the thoughts of hurting him were twisting your stomach. 

"You might think it's fun for us humans, but I wonder what you were thinking coming back here. Maybe you enjoyed the treatment more than you let on, hm?"

Your voice was feeble, even when you tried to act superior. Bantering wouldn't magically develop a relationship between you two, but you couldn't endure the silence when no one spoke. It felt wrong—like he was going to attack you again any second. You needed to keep yourself anchored to reality, or you might have fainted. After everything you went through, you couldn't remember the confidence you had to allow yourself to do something as drastic as release three orcas from a highly secured facility like this. A shame, really. You deserved confidence as you were one of the best, after all. 

Even if you couldn't let him know, you still felt anxious about something happening. You returned to the original counters, providing you with everything you needed, put on new gloves after wiping your still-wet face from being splashed with a towel, and proceeded with a mask and apron to achieve even the smallest amount of cleanliness. You'd be unable not to hurt him at the end of this session, but you at least wanted to avoid him dying from sepsis as well as getting his blood all over yourself. 

"I do not," he snapped, watching as you prepared everything, seemingly having given up fighting the machine but not you. "I came back for Nerrocan."

"Huh…" you mumbled, intrigued by this information. So it was Nerrocan who came back here, not Lyr. Interesting. "Risking it all for your cousin?" you asked, and his eyes narrowed.

"I see you still remember us," he snarled, his lips parting in a cocky grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. Krill looked… uncomfortable almost. You couldn't blame him. This all must have been beyond uncomfortable for the merman. 

"And you, me."

Silence befell you two again as you picked up the tranquilizer, wrapping your hand around the container, surprised when you realized what you were doing. It had been so long that you thought you wouldn't remember your old habits. You used to always warm the drugs so they wouldn't be so bitterly cold when applied on the mermaids. 

Krill flapped his fin despite being restricted, and you looked up at him, catching a glimpse of worry as he looked at the syringe in your hand. "Ran out of the good stuff, eh? I remember it being purple, not that icky color," he mocked, but he didn't sound as confident anymore as he was before. 

"Should have come earlier if you wanted that. I heard this one has interesting side-effects when applied."

Rounding the table, you noticed his fin flap again pitifully, almost making you hesitate. He seemed nervous, muscles spasming in the tension of his restrictions. Stepping up to his hips, you felt his eyes follow your every step, almost making you feel reminiscent of the past. You took the integrated step upwards at the side of the research station, effectively standing above him now to see better. Everything was perfectly laid out so that your work could be done effectively. That's how you had to see it, too. This was work, nothing personal.

"You don't have to do this," Krill suddenly said, unusually calm but determined. "You're not a bad person, you saved us before."

This time, you did look directly at him, giving him your full attention for a few seconds of silence. His gaze didn't waver, didn't move away. He meant what he said. At least, that's what you were supposed to believe. Sirens were prone to lying to get what they wanted, and Krill did not want the drug in your hands, warmed up by your palm wrapped around it. But it wouldn't stop you. You gulped, inhaling deeply. It couldn't stop you.

"And now I have to save myself. Please hold still so I don't hurt you."

Diverting your attention back to his hips, you drove your hands along the slick surface of his body, trying to find any space capable of being squeezed. He jerked once when you touched him, trying to get away but ultimately pressing his hips up into your palm. Eventually, you found a soft spot, pinching the skin between your fingers. Krill shuddered, his body twisting, but The Fischer kept it in place. You'd be safe, even if you hated yourself for doing what you had to. 

The syringe punctured his flesh with only a bit of resistance, and you injected the liquid tranquilizer quickly, stepping away when you were done to watch what would happen. The medication used to be a fickle thing, sometimes agitating, sometimes drugging the mermaids out of their minds. But it usually took a while before it worked. Not this version, though. So many things changed since the last time you worked with the mermaids. But it was cruel all the same.

You listened to Krill groan in pain and relief at the same time. Pressure built, his body twisting and arching, with his spine bending uncomfortably for you as the drug spread throughout him before every muscle seemed to suddenly give out, relaxing him completely and making his body sack in his holds almost lifelessly. Worried, you stepped closer, searching for a pulse. It wasn't for another half a minute before you noticed the even rise and fall of his chest, his gills flaring even though he wasn't using them. The seemingly calm state of the merman made you bolder, although the fear of him faking something never subsided. You walked up to his face, staring into the clouded rubies of his eyes, surprised to find them moving around still, searching for something or someone, despite being slower, less alert than before. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered, unsure if he could even hear you, but you felt terrible seeing what you did to him. Even if he was a creature that wouldn't hesitate to kill you, he didn't deserve to go through what the facility wanted him to. Reaching up, you brushed the hair out of his face, the strands gently gliding through your fingers without any resistance, almost as if they were a liquid defying all the physics you knew. 

Even after all this time, you remembered he used to have longer hair. It used to float above the water, coating it in strings of glossy silk. But now he sported a wolf cut that fitted him just as well. Part of his hair had turned white, with only the top remaining in the same black you were used to. You wondered if it was because of the experiments or just a natural change of color over the years when his head suddenly turned, his cheek feeling heavy as he rested it in your palm. Krill seemed as unaware of his actions as he should be after being forced into surrender by the drug, but it seemed to make the forgotten part of him that felt safe with you submerge again, the feeling almost the same as from the past. You quickly caught yourself falling back into thoughts of things long gone and got to work, cutting off both black and white strands with small scissors, hoping it wouldn't suddenly agitate him. But Krill remained unresponsive, and you pushed away your guilt to quickly store your samples.

Focusing your mind on your work, as there was so much to do, and you didn't want him to recover his strength before you had completed most of the preparations you had to make. You measured and cut down his claws, trying your best not to cause any harm to him and quickly storing the talons for further research. The size of his hands was massive, and you marveled at their humanness for a moment, driving your finger gently over the ridges and joints. Unfortunately, as expected, some of his fingertips were broken, smashed by the struggle with the floor grates. You wanted to clean and wrap them securely. But when Krill let out a long sigh, sounding almost pained just by your touching his hands, you immediately stopped, fearing his wrath upon regaining mobility.

You did further measurements on smaller areas like his hands and fins, everything that could be deducted more thoroughly by hand than by machine. Every time you came around to his head, you looked into his eyes, the guilt threatening to wash over you when they locked with yours, steadfast despite him being out of it, so you quickly moved on. 

While you were at it, you connected his chip to a reader, interested in the data that could be found on it, and removed the jewelry that hung from his body. It would only be a hindrance to your experiments, and perhaps remnants on the metal could determine where the merman was originally from. However, the weight of some of the decorations he had prided himself with—like his necklace of teeth—weighed so much that you needed to drag them over the floor, wondering how this could be efficient for a predator.

"So far, so good," you mumbled as you let the program run its course, wiping off some sweat from your forehead with your sleeve and looking at the situation for a moment. It had been too long, you couldn't really remember the exact procedure to which you should have stuck, but instead of giving your to-do list the attention to find out, your eyes fixated on something else—scars. Albeit not uncommon, there were a lot more now than you remembered, and you raised a hand to his tail, sliding your fingers over the scarred tissue, putting slight pressure on it.

Krill's body jerked immediately, and you jumped back from him, observing the merman. His head rolled forward in the restraints, tired eyes searching for you but unable to focus. 

"Not there… touch..." His speech was slurred, another effect of the new drug, but you couldn't help but smile faintly at him, seeing how he still resisted. 

"I need to count them," you explained, hoping it would soothe his mind. If he could understand it. You couldn't be sure it had any effect, but if you were in his position, you would have wanted to be told what was going on, you thought. "It won't hurt, I promise."

Measuring tape in hand, you placed your clipboard with an empty page on top of his body, moving from his fin slowly upwards and jotting down your findings. There were a lot of prominent scars standing out from his body markings, but even more smaller ones barely visible. It felt quite intimate to search his body so thoroughly, but it had to be done. Krill moved pitifully against and into your touch as if unsure where to go and unable to understand what was happening. Even if it made you lose your balance a few times, you let him, feeling bad for all you were doing. It was the slightest bit of freedom you could give him without risking your own head.

By the time you reached his chest, some clarity had returned to his eyes, and he couldn't control the sounds coming from him. You tried not to agitate him with pressure and touch, but you had to do your work. An arrangement of chirps and sighs, some grunts, and nervous jittering rang out, echoing through the rooms. Deep breaths pushed his chest out, and sighs bordering on moans shivered through his whole body. But you were content as long as he didn't throw his weight around and push you off the step and into your medical equipment. 

"Must you be so thorough," he slurred as you examined his chest, following the curve of his pectoral muscles with your fingers. You looked up at him, his head crooked to the side, still too heavy to hold up on his own despite the metal neck brace, but his eyes were clearer now, following you more intensely. 

"I have to, I'm sorry. I don't want it to be uncomfortable, but I have to document them."

Writing down your finds on your clipboard, you must have pressed it down a bit too hard on his chest because Krill's head fell back, a long groan escaping him, back arching again. "Sorry…" you repeated, the guilt beginning to eat you up, but he only rolled his head in the restraint. 

"No…" he muttered. "Not uncomfortable... I feel weird. It's hot. Make it stop."

You were unsure what to do, but there were only a few more scars before you'd have to move on to his arms and, eventually, his backside. You wanted to at least get the chest ones down before you would have to give him another shot of tranquilizer, as Krill was growing more restless every time you touched him. You wished the examination could have stopped there. That you could have released him and put him back into the cold wet, but you needed to finish this. Even when he started gnashing his teeth and twisting in his restraints again.

"What are you doing?!" he suddenly snapped, much more coherent than before, his head jerking forward, ruby-red eyes glowering at you. You tried not to let it get to you, tried to make it quick so he wouldn't have to suffer, but Krill wouldn't let it go. 

"Stop it!" he demanded as you inspected another small scar around his nipple. It was barely visible against the lighter-toned skin there, but you found it, grazing over the nub a few times while working out the details of the scar you needed. Krill was getting more aggressive with his protests, lashing out at you while many different kinds of sounds escaped him, and it was almost amusing to think that it was because of your touch. You couldn't help spreading your palm over his nipple once, letting the elastic of your gloves weigh down and rub over it, causing every muscle in his body to harden instantly. You shouldn't have abused this situation like this, but seeing him react so sharply, his breath coming out in a drawn-out hiss, was somewhat a relief. Knowing it wasn't all terrible, all cruel and painful. But you caught a grip on yourself quickly, working efficiently until you could finally step away once you had found every last scar on his chest.

"All done," you assured him, unable to keep yourself from grinning a little as he let out a strained but haughty hmpf. He was almost back to his new normal, which made you glad. The drug was awful, but it was good to know he wouldn't be broken down this easily. Your back was turned for only a second when you heard him rattling in his restraints, more clear in his mind again as it seemed. It caused you to want to tease him a little.

"I liked it better when you were quiet, Krill. You didn't react to every one of my touches as if I was trying to seduce you."

"How dare you! I can't believe I am back here with you as if you are…" The word seemed to elude him as he bit his tongue, and you turned to look at his face, so much tension in his expression that you thought he was going to burst. Krill wasn't looking at you for once, focusing on his own body. Walking up to him again, his gaze shifted from straight down back to you, a spark of something you couldn't pinpoint washing over him. Insecurity? Fear? No way. 

"Don't come closer again!" he hissed, tossing a bit more in his restraints, and you stopped in your tracks, subconsciously listening to him like an idiot. But Krill wasn't being malicious; something was wrong. Even though you two weren't on friendly terms, you could tell something was off. His gills were flared, pupils blown wide open. He looked mostly like the monster you had to believe he was, but there was a sense of panic that an apex predator shouldn't ever display unless something terrible was happening to them. And you couldn't ignore it, or him for that matter.

"Hey!" you called out, hoping your voice could ground him from whatever he was going through. Stepping closer despite his body thrashing wasn't easy. You had to be careful, but you weren't heartless enough to leave him to his own demons after you caused them. The drug could have had hallucinogenics, which would not only have put you in danger but Krill too. You needed him if you ever wanted to regain some recognition or freedom in this place, and he needed you since you were probably the only person in the whole facility who would do anything to make the experiments at least a bit more humane. You couldn't abandon him like this after all he's been through.

Instead of putting yourself at risk of being thrown across the room by Krill accidentally slamming his body into you, you stepped up to his head instead, waiting for the moment that you could grab onto him and hold on with all your strength. You expected a struggle that would leave both of you wounded, but the moment your hands clasped around his face, Krill went rigid, suspiciously still. Another wave of fear overcame you, your instincts telling you this was wrong, but you tried your best to stay strong for both of you. "Shh, shh," you mumbled, calming him, and finally, the strength in his neck gave way, and his head fell back. 

You two stared at each other for some silent seconds, and you rubbed your thumb over his cheek comfortingly. "It's all your fault," he uttered, exhaustion washing over his expression. You couldn't blame him for feeling this way, and you made sure his hair wouldn't sting his eyes by swiping it out of his face gently, still shushing him like a parent would to their child. He looked like he was in severe pain, as if he felt fear for the first time in his life. You couldn't believe it was true, but you felt heartbroken for him all the same. Even if he was called a monster, even if he was a killer and a creature or an animal. Even if he wasn't like you, he didn't deserve any of this. 

"Why are you doing this to me again?" he asked, his voice cracking as a wave of sadness washed over his expression. You had never seen a mermaid actively being sad. Angry, panicked, drugged, yes. But sad? You didn't even think that was possible. What could you do to soothe this whale of a man to the point that you weren't suffering the consequences of other people's decisions? Nothing came to mind, and it was awful.

"I haven't done anything yet, just precautions," you assured him. "You're okay, you're safe. I can't change what I have to do, but I promise I'll try to make it as painless as possible. I–"

"No," Krill interrupted you. "Not that. Not the experiments. This." 

You heard the restraints rattle, causing you to look up at his hand, his cut-down, broken claw pointing downward at his body. You halted your comforting, leaving your palms on his cheeks while looking at Krill with a confused look before you stepped away, fully aware that he looked after you, even forcing his head forward again to watch what you were doing as you stepped around him. 

A loud gasp escaped you as you watched the tip of his cock exit from its slit. The moment your attention was on it, it shot out inch by inch until its massive size stood proudly, pulsing and jerking above his hips, having emerged fully within seconds of horror and amazement. A glistening drop of pre-cum collected at the tip as you stared at the massive erection, the bubble popping and spilling onto his chest as you watched it, unable to look away.

"I tried to forget," Krill lamented from behind you, his body sacking in the machine holding him up before tensing and straining again, a pained groan escaping him while his cock flopping in the air, unbothered by its owner's distress. It only produced more pre-cum and jerked ever so often, the shaft pulsing with need. 

"I wanted to forget you so badly."

You forced yourself to look away from his cock, and Krill let out a brief trill in response, sounding almost disappointed. But he didn't shy away from your eyes, gazing at you, defeated and a little… desperate. 

"Help. Me," he breathed, and you let out your own shuddering breath at his request. You only ever wanted to tease him. You didn't want to cause any pain or suffering, especially not the sexual kind. It was unheard of that the drug caused the mermaids to act this way. But you were about to learn what caused this.

"Why me?" you whispered, knowing now he could hear you. 

"Because I remember every touch of you. Every moment we spent together. Every little piece of memory we made in this godsforsaken place, and I need you. I already feel like I'm losing my mind, and I can't take it anymore. At least take responsibility for what you're doing, this is your fault."

"Krill…"

"It's useful for you, isn't it?" he suddenly changed his tune. He looked angry, but the twisted desperation was unconcealable. "My seed. You can have it. Take it all if you must as long as you do something." 

His words were followed by a groan, sounding in so much pain, and you watched his cock jerk, hips lifting, trying to reach an unavailable source of comfort, a connection to something that wasn't there. "Fuck, I held it back for so long. You and your shitty drugs! I had it under control! I didn't need you at all—didn't even think of you!"

Another long howl escaped him, head rolling from one side to another. He looked completely out of his mind when his gaze fixed on you again, needy and desperate. You had no way to find out if it was because of the drugs, and that worried you. 

"I lied," he confessed, his breath leaving him ominously. His admission was completely out of character for a creature like him, which took you aback, but when Krill looked back at you, there was a different kind of determination in his eyes. A savage one—mad even. You wanted to run away, far, far away from him, but his eyes, full of drugged madness and terrifying adoration, didn't let you act on your whims. As if he hypnotized you.

"I thought about you constantly. You were always on my mind. I thought about coming back so many times, but I couldn't leave the others. But now they don't need me anymore, and I have you back. You're the only one left for me, please. Please help me. Help me, my mate."

His voice was sugary sweet as he pleaded with you, your heart skipping a beat when you watched this destructive, dangerous creature reduced to a begging mess. It wasn't what you wanted for him, and you didn't want the kind of control he was hovering over your head. But you felt the heat spreading throughout your whole body as he called you his.

"We're not mates," you tried to deny it, shaking your head, the implications too severe. "That's the drugs speaking."

"Gods," he groaned loudly, licking his lips as his eyes scanned over your body. "I wish they were."

His hips jerked again, impatient and in desperate need of release. If you were truly mates, that would be bad. It would be an instant invitation to be locked in this facility forever until you passed away. If anyone happened to check on you, seeing the state Krill was in, they'd assume the worst, delighted by these new possibilities. You had to find a solution before that. 

"Fuck," you muttered, and Krill groaned in agreement. "We're not mates!" you insisted, moving towards his side again. This was absolutely bonkers, but every touch seemed to send him further down the spiral—and so were you, even though you refused to admit it.

"This is strictly professional."

"It's whatever," he rejoiced when he felt your hands back on his chest, a little too happy about this smithereens of body contact for it to be just because of the drugs. "Help me, mate."

"Do me a favor," you asked, rolling your shoulders and readying yourself for what you had to do. You couldn't believe you were going to do it; jerking off a merman was definitely not in your job description. But if it would help with not being confined for all eternity as a pathetic mating buddy, then you had no choice. You just needed the push to actually do it.

"Say 'please' again."

Krill's lips parted in a disturbingly wide grin, red rubies sparkling as he looked at you, filled with a sickening hope and adoration that made you shudder.

"Please."

[khaire-traveler]

I'm curious because someone recently made the comment that it's only fair for Lord Charon to expect money in return for his services, but this system would actually raise a lot of questions. If you're curious, some questions I thought of are featured below.

(For the record, I still believe Charon deserves recognition for what he does; it's just the coin system doesn't actually make sense when you start examining it closely.)

Please reblog! 🧡 I want to hear everyone's opinions on this.

Not every Underworld god is paid for their labors. Some aren't even given offerings anymore, their names tragically lost to time. So, why is Lord Charon specifically mentioned to require coins for his ferry? Why not Lord Haides, for entry to his domain? Or Lord Thanatos for deliverance of one's soul? Or Lord Hermes for transportation from the mortal realm to that of the dead? Why not Cerberus for letting you through The Gates (he is a sentient being, btw, for those who seem to think he's just a random three-headed dog)?

Does The Underworld have an economy? Why does it need an economy based on coins from the material plane/Earth? How does it even determine currency value?I mean, just imagine how many different people from different countries would have gone to The Underworld and paid with coins over thousands upon thousands of years.

Does payment have to be coins, or is there maybe some other form payment you can provide? Does the value of the item have to be monetary, or can it be something that meant a lot to you in life? More of a metaphorical release of the material plane, in a sense, as you trade off something that ties you to Earth and are officially transported to "The Other Side".

How do you get physical coins onto a spiritual plane?

Why would Charon need coins from the surface world? Does he maybe just have a sick coin collection from over thousands of years of human history?

What about our ancestors who were alive before the invention of monetary coins; were they just expected to stand at the shore for 100 years for not having something that didn't exist yet?

Speaking of the last question, where do animals go? How do they get across the river Styx?

Why would the afterlife require money in order for you to enter it properly? That seems kind of fucked up and more like something a bunch of old men wrote down to declare the wealthy more important than the poor, no?

If this is really just a job for Lord Charon (who is a son of Nyx, mind you), that implies that maybe Lord Haides (or whomever oversees that) could hire others to help him. Is there more than one ferryman on the river Styx? What is their average hourly pay? How can I apply, and does anyone have any interview tips? Seems to me that it'd be based on commission.

Do you think the spirits on the riverbank get bored of waiting? What do you think they do for 100 years to pass all that time? 🤔

[turbulentscrawl]

Modern AU: Norton Campbell

You've heard of modern reader? Well now it's time for Modern canon!

- Previously, he worked in the oil industry, but a nasty accident he doesn’t speak about has left him with his fair share of burn scars. Norton now works as an independent contractor, known around town as a do-it-all type of handyman. He rarely works with or for group projects, preferring to be hired directly by property owners for the work they need done. He’s his own boss, and he makes his own schedule, but he’s a workaholic.

- He was raised by his uncle Benny after his parents died when he was still very young—his mother shortly after childbirth, due to complications, and his father in a work-related accident. Benny’s health deteriorated fast, though, and as soon as he was legally able Norton picked up a part-time job to help pay the bills and build a college fund. (Or several, more like, and he was known to bounce around for better pay.)

-Some time in his senior year of high school, he discovered that Benny was keeping secrets; Benny had not only convinced his father to stay in the oil industry after he was born, but wasted and gambled away all the life insurance money from his death. Enraged and betrayed, Norton dropped out of school and left. He drove as far away as he could with the little money he had, and then lived out of his truck for a while. Eventually, he made enough money to rent a shitty little motel room by the week, and then a shitty little apartment.

-After leaving, he at first went into the oil industry like his old man and Benny had been—it was something he was familiar enough with and hard labor paid better than being a busboy again. But after a few years there was an accident which left him with several burn scars. He was left in pain for a long time, but the worker’s comp paid for most of his medical bills and his rent, giving him just enough time to get his GED. After that, he started into construction, plumbing, and other handiman things he was knowledgeable in after years of being poor and self-sufficient.

-The accident, this time, was more of an ACTUAL accident. Norton had a disagreement with some of the coworkers he hated. There was an altercation, and something ignited…and Norton was the only one who got out. He doesn’t talk about it, mostly out of shame and a sense of guilt, but he copes by telling himself they deserved it.

- He drives the same beat-up old pickup truck Benny bought for him as a kid. It was transferred into his name when he was 18, so Benny can’t swipe it from under his nose. (Legally, anyway.) He could probably get a loan and buy a new car, but at this point he prefers to keep the old hunk of junk. Maybe he’s sentimental, or maybe the weekly maintenance he has to do on it is just therapeutic in a way.

-Not a super techy guy. He keeps up with industry news and learns new skills often, but his truck, his phone, and most of his home appliances are older. He’s good enough with fixing things that he hasn’t bothered to replace them.

-He’s not much of a decorator, either, but he’s good at thrifting and building his own furniture with recycled materials. His apartment/home is a bit of a hodgepodge, with mostly bare walls, but what he does have I impressive in its own way. Any décor he has is likely gifted.

-He’d like to own a home one day, but he’s playing things by ear. He realizes that might be asking a lot while he’s got no real support system.

-He’s a fair cook, but a lot of what he makes could be called “struggle meals.” They’re what he’s been used to for a long time.

-He’s a little paranoid about pumping gas into his truck, but he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. On his days off, he tends to walk to take public transit to save some money and gas mileage.

-He’s that guy with a 7-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, bodywash etc men’s soap. Someone please teach him better ways.

[thecapricunt1616]

NURSE!!! NURSE!!! SHE BROKE OUT OF HER CAGE TO POST MORE- Dad!Carmy brainrot for you all 😉🫶

— so I Imagine him getting a call in the middle of the night, you’re heavily pregnant with your third. His Apple Watch thankfully woke him (you’d be worried for him to get a call so late). He gets up without waking you going into the living room and answering to hear your teen daughters watery voice at the end of the line and she’s all “Daddy promise you won’t be mad at me” (more below)

He’s immediately grabbing his keys, putting on his shoes and brown plaid coat that he’s had longer than she’d been alive, or then he’d even been knowing you for that matter - his heart thumping in his chest and throat tightening. “Sweetheart why aren’t you home right now?! are you safe? Tell me wha’s wrong- what happened- I won’t be upset honey” he assured her, his stomach clenching at the thought of her hurt.

“P-paisley wanted me to go t’this party with her and - and the police came daddy and she left me there alone- and I got arrested. Come get me I don’t wanna die in hereeee” she sobbed dramatically. He sighed gratefully, starting the car.

“You aren’t going to die princess. Give me 20 minutes mm? And we can talk ‘bout y’punishment w’mommy t’morrow” he said and she huffs

“You’re gonna snitch on me T’mommy?! Daddy you’re being so unfair! “ she whined

He chuckled a bit, “I’m bein’ very fair. I love you babygirl I’ll s’ya soon” he said and hung up. He knew if he’d have woken you, you would have freaked out and panicked at the thought of your little girl drunk and scared and alone. Considering how far along you were currently the stress could most definitely cause early labor and he did not want to deal with that tonight.

He’d make it to the police station fast bc ofc when he was picking a home for his family it would be super close to one for safety reasons and when he walked in and saw his baby sitting in a holding cell with other adults being held on misdemeanor charges, his heart would break.

She would be curled into herself on the bench, knees flush to her chest hugging herself, cheeks tear stained, big blue doe-like eyes puffy and red with thick tears that were still falling. He wanted to pick her up like she was 2 again - even though the top of her head hit his shoulder now, and cradle her like the baby he couldn’t help but see any time he looked at her.

“Oh princess” he said softly and she looks up, quickly standing up and she couldn’t help but burst in to sobs as relief washed over her when she finally saw her dad, who had never let her down from the day she was born - he was always there for her, as were you, but Carmy was always softer on the kids then you were because his dad never showed any of his siblings softness, so he wanted to be sure the kids always trusted him in that way

“Daddy you came! I’m so scared please please I’ll never do it again please get me out of here dad I’m so sorry I’m so so sorry daddy” she broke down and he felt tears pushing at the back of his eyes he could only swallow back because they were in public.

“You- hey-“ he snaps his fingers and the cop standing outside the holding cell door finally acknowledges him “I’m her fuckin father- let ‘er out. Now.” He said annoyed with the man’s lack of attention for his own job.

“She’s unable to be released until her fine is paid” he said and shrugged “it’s the law”

Carmen dug the stupid reciept paper he’d shoved in his pocket that he’d paid the front clerk when he got here, pushing it to his chest “open the fucking door, jagoff. Shes 16 the fuck is wrong with you she’s a baby” he said angrier, voice getting louder.

“Sir I’m gonna need you to calm down.” He said and Carmen rolled his eyes, 2 words he hated hearing even more than anything when put together.

“Look at the fucking paper. And let my daughter go” he snapped, holding his baby’s hand through the bars gently and rubbing a soothing thumb over her knuckles, she was shaking like a leaf.

“Mmm” the man grumbled, opening up the door and she rushed into Carmen’s arms. He kisses the top of her head tenderly, wrapping her in a tight bear hug.

“Y’never allowed t’scare me like that again angel girl” he mumbled into her hair, breathing in her scent that he could pick out even in his sleep as his baby girl.

“I’m sorry daddy I’m so so sorry” she mumbled over and over, tears soaking his shirt. He hushed her how he did when she was just a baby and rubbed her back soothingly.

“S’okay babygirl I think y’learned y’lesson mm? Y’think you wanna go out drinkin again before y’21?” He teased lightly and she sniffled, shaking her head lightly. He didn’t care that she was getting snot all over him, or that she was staining one of his near $80 white shirts with her mascara and eyeliner she’d gotten with a Ulta gift card ‘Santa’ had gotten her, since Carmen couldn’t bare the fact his baby girl was growing up.

“No- no daddy I promise. I promise I’ll never do it ever again. Please don’t tell mommy” she pleads and looks up at him with big watery eyes. He carefully thumbed away the large rings of black under her eyes and cups her face tenderly.

“Sweetheart I am not in control of what mommy does. You know this, and I can’t lie to mommy. Are you asking me t’lie t’mommy? M’already riskin’ my spot in bed by not waking her up t’tell her ‘bout this” He asked sternly, she knew that lies were a big boundary in your family - they just hurt people unless they were ‘happy lies’ aka surprises like gifts or sweet things, but withholding information from each other in fear of making someone upset was a big no no in your house.

She huffed annoyed, lip quivering and she nuzzled back into his chest “unfair. Mommy is gonna ground me forever” she whined.

“Mm - maybe she should ground you. What the hell is this outfit? She’s not gonna be happy ‘bout this, y’gonna get sick” he tells her. She was in nothing but a tank top dress, flimsy nylons, and a half cardigan. He wraps his jacket around her shoulders as they walk out to the car, of course he couldn’t care less about freezing his ass off because his baby needed to be warm even if it was a short walk to his SUV.

“It’s cute dad and m’not gonna get sick! All the girls were wearing dresses like this!” She snapped sassily as she buckled in.

“Mm cute - sure pumpkin. What were you even doin’ - what party was worth the rage of y’mother? Especially when you know she’s been in a mood lately” he asked. A mood was what he called it, you were really just overly hormonal and sore and giving birth within the next 14 days, so everything was ticking you off

“Hally Hawkins party dad. Only the coolest senior at school!! If I was the only one who wasn’t there how was I supposed to ever find a date to the winter ball next month?!” She huffed, crossing her arms

“Date?!” His eyes widen “since when did we say you could date?!” He asked quickly “you aren’t dating you- you can’t date until you’re married!” He said seriously to which she just giggled

“How am I supposed to get married if I don’t date daddy! I’m 16 now! I’m getting my license soon! I should be able to hold hands with a boy I like-“

“Hold hands?!” He exclaims “who the hell is holdin’ y’hand? No- no. No! I’m the only man that holds y’hand and it’s to help you across the street” he grips the steering wheel tighter “y’too little” he said and she whines

“Daddy I’m not little! I’m 16! You promised to stop calling me little” she pushes his hand away at a stoplight when he goes to fix the strap of her dress out of habit “daaaad!!!” She whines and he huffs

“Quit all the whinin’! Y’little as long as y’live w’me and that means that y’not dating and y’not holding hands” he pulls into your driveway, turning the lights off before as to not wake you. “And quiet comin inside- if you wake y’sister mommy is gonna be upset she’s been havin’ a hard time sleepin’ “ he opened her door, taking her purse and helping her out of the car.

“Is this mommy’s?” He holds up the purse and she takes it from him, holding it to her chest defensively.

“She never wears it anymore what- are you gonna snitch?! If you do I’ll tell her about you eating all her ice cream” she teased and headed to the door

He gasped, “you wouldn’t dare- you’d sell out y’own father?! After he just went and picked y’ass up outta the slammer. Maybe I shoulda let you stay there eh’? A night in jail may teach you some manners missy” he jokes as he unlocks the door, not seeing the kitchen light on.

“Where were you!” You were stood at the end of the hallway, fluffy robe and slippers on, hand over your bump as you stood there while nervously pacing. Carmy and your Daughter give eachother the we’ve been caught look before Carmy looks at you, as you narrow your eyes at your daughters arm adorning a very familiar looking black bag.

“Is that- red lipstick…and my purse?!”

[nthspecialll]

Does anyone else find the 20.000 dollars weird?

After American Venom is done and John pays off his debts, we are left with 20.000 dollars which is a large amount considering the time, but it is also a suspeciously low amount considering how much the Blackwater money actually was.

In the newspapers we can read that the amount of cash that the gang got away with was 150.000 dollars, I got no clue how that can be scaled down to 20 thousand even when John's 1.400 dollar debt which was for land, labor, two damn buildings and animals, was paid. Where is the rest of the money? We can pretend that Charles and Sadie also got the same amount, they together would get around 66.000 to split, where is the remaining 84.000? Did Micah spend them?

I know some might think he could spend that, but where would he? He cannot make any larger purchase (legally) while being an active criminal and I doubt he is spending 84.000 dollars on his gang, showing them in weapons and food. When the Van Der Linde gang goes shopping they spend between 15-25 dollars on food, Medicine and ammo each. Meaning if they shop once a week, the most expensive stuff, refilling everything, over the course of eight years spend 31.200 dollars on shopping. How did that turn into 84.000? And it ain't like Micah is living luxiourisly either, he is sleeping in a shed.

Micah says it is the Blackwater money, but he also did say it was the majority of it, which I just can't get to make sense.

What I think would make more sense is for it to be the Beaver Hollow money which was around 50.000. Micah spends around 20.000 or something, I don't think he is just giving his gang ammo and health kits, Charles and Sadie gets some and they leave the remaining about 22.000 to John who needs it more than them.

Am I overthinking it? Maybe, but it got stuck in my head.

[angrelysimpping]

Words: 2030

Contents: AMAB Reader (you/your); AMAB Bailey (he/him); simulant overdosing; noncon; Reader is the aggressive one; violence

A good night’s sleep, that’s all Bailey wants. He can’t remember the last time he had a solid night of rest. Tonight seems to be shaping up to be the same as every night before it. Dozing off on the run down couch in his office, only to be woken by the scream of one of his many wards, having to rip perverts off them who hadn’t paid Bailey his due. That, or the nightmares. How many times had he had to wake up a screaming brat, thrashing in their sleep because their dumb little brains had decided to give them a fright? More than he’d care to admit. Then, it's back to paperwork and trying to get his shitbox computer to work because, for all his flaws, he knows himself well enough that it’ll take hours for him to fall back asleep.

Just his piss poor luck that he hears a bang from upstairs right as he’s about to finally drop off. 

Bailey doesn’t have to go far to find the source of the noise. There you are, the bane of his fucking existence, stumbling down the stairs.

You look at him, and he can tell something is wrong. It’s in how you hold yourself, in how your breaths come quick and hard. He’s been in this hell hole of a town to know exactly how you’ve fucked yourself. Your pupils blown wide, a thin sheen of sweat glazing your skin, and, the dead give away, the outline of your cock straining against the thin fabric of your sleeping shorts. Stimulants. You’ve gone and overdosed on stimulants, like the moron Bailey always knew you were.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing, brat?” He hisses the question, and you blink dumbly back at him. Sighing, he runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. This was gonna be a long fucking night. 

Taking a trembling step towards the caretaker, he thinks, for a moment, that you’re going to beg him for help. He’d like to see it, he’d like to see you, the thorn in his side you are, sinking down to your knees, sobbing, clinging to his leg as you babbled about being sorry for always being such a pain if he could make the burning need he knew the drugs induced stop.

He’s wrong.

To his chagrin, you catch him by surprise. One moment he’s staring down the most annoying brat he’s ever had the misfortune to house, the next his head is bouncing off the cold floor with a sickening crack. 

Black dots skitter across his vision, the ability to hear momentarily lost as his ears fill with static. 

Bailey expects more pain, for your fist to connect with his face. Even high off the stimulants, he expects you to hurt him. He’s not a kind man, he knows this. He knows you must despise him just as much as he does you. It’s why he braces himself, and why he’s too stunned to stop you when you start tugging at his clothes instead of clawing at his skin.

He’s only wearing a pair of old sweatpants, something comfortable for his long, restless nights. Burning fingers delve under the waistband, twist and pull, stitches creaking, as you drag the fabric down. 

It’s when your hand wraps around his soft cock that he snaps into action, starts to push you off him. But, the stimulants have driven you feral and the hit to his head leaves him with a weak grip.  It’s with a freakish strength you pin him. Your face hovers above his, eyes wild, skin burning.

“Just…” your voice trails off, words slurred as you try to focus on Bailey’s face. His hand wraps around your thigh, attempting to pull you off but he can’t quite get his body to obey his mind. Instead, he just squeezes your overheated skin, your body shivering at the touch. “Just…I need…” You groan low, collapsing forward, still managing to keep Bailey stuck in place as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. 

A hardness presses against his thigh. 

There's a singular moment where Bailey's mind goes blank. The air feels heavier, stuffy, full of dust and rot. No longer is the night quiet, save your labored breaths. Whines of others fill his ears. He understands what's happening, understands your cock pressed against his thigh, your skin burning his, your hand feverishly working his dick. It doesn't take a genius. 

Bailey shakes his head, hard enough that you let out a disgruntled grunt, hard enough to shake those memories back into the corner of his brain he kept them locked in. You wrench back from him, eyes dark as they flick down to his slowly hardening cock.

“I hate you.” Your voice is soft, loose. Nearly inaudible, even as Bailey lays dizzy under you. “Hate you so much,” you mumble, tone almost like a lover's if you didn't punctuate the word with a sneer. 

Your thumb rolls over the tip of his cock, collecting some of the precum that had started to leak against his will, before digging into his slit. Bailey sucks in a harsh breath, once again trying to buck you off him to no avail. Worse of all, a low groan sounds in the back of his throat, pleasure edged in pain as you continue to jerk him roughly. 

“Your…fault,” you manage between labored breaths. It takes Bailey far too long to process your words. It's almost comforting, knowing there's something wrong with him, his thoughts moving sluggishly. It's a confirmation, a blessing, to know that, if his head hadn't slammed into the floor, none of this would be happening. Because, otherwise, he might have to admit that it wasn't just his body's natural reaction. He might have to admit, even if just to himself, that he liked having you on top of him, liked that it was your hand around his cock, even in these fucked circumstances. “Your fucking fault.”

He’s had thoughts like this before. Quiet fantasies in the dead of night when his mind couldn't reset. Not like this exactly, not you forcing him down, but still you. For all the difficulties you cause him, all the shit you've stirred up, he'd still let those thoughts linger. The thought of you on top of him, under him. How you'd feel, taste, sound if he had you squealing for him. If he could fuck you into some type of submission, into promising to be better behaved. 

Bailey has no idea how you got your dick out and managed to keep him pinned at the same time, but you do. It feels strange, another man's bare cock resting against his thigh, hot and heavy, twitching while precum leaked onto his skin. 

He tries to move again, each action taking monumental effort, only to go still. Sparks of pain skitter down his spine as the grip on his cock tightens. God, he'd raised a mean lil shit. 

“Ever…” your voice trails off, as your hips seemingly move of their own accord, idly rutting your throbbing cock against his thigh. More precum dribbles out, staining his skin, easing your movement. Even in his impaired state, Bailey can almost see you fighting through the haze of the stimulants. Your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut as you let out a soft sigh. Something in his stomach twists at the sight of the column of your throat, at the soft sound, your grip on his dick faltering for just a second. 

You snap back to yourself, gaze intense as you catch his dark eyes. “Ever taken it up the ass before?”

He’s not even fully aware of how his lips curl back, teeth flashing in the dim light of the hall. Bailey tries to speak, tries to snap at you to get the fuck off him. The only word he manages to get out is a wheezed brat.  He must have hit his head harder than he thought, something that would worry him if an icy pit hadn’t formed in his stomach at your words.

You drop his cock, hand driving down to squeeze his ball, the tip of a finger tracing his rim. His grip on your thighs tightens enough to leave bruises in the shape of his hands later.  

“Don’t,” you shudder, eyes rolling back again for a split second. Then, you lean down over him, face filling his view, nowhere to look but into your frenzied eyes. “Don’t worry,” you sigh against his lips. “You might’ve raised me b-but,” you pause, another shiver racking your body, spurt of hot precum painting his thigh, “but I’m no monster. Not like you.” 

You shift up, pressing your mouth to his. Not only that, but, as your tongue curls around his, your hand returns to his dick, your cock joining his in the tight grip of your fist. 

His brian short circuits. 

Bailey will blame it on how hard he hit his head. He’ll blame the aftertaste of stimulants on your tongue. He’ll blame the position of the moon, the alignment of the stars, anything and everything else before acknowledging the soft sound that escapes him as you pump your cocks together. 

You’d worked enough precum out of the caretaker to coat your palm, filling the air with sloppy, lewd sounds with each pump of your fist. They burn in Bailey’s ears, something he’s sure he’ll remember for ages to come. Hips jerking, you start to fuck your fist. Bailey’s not sure if it’s you or him who grones louder as the underside of your shaft drags against the top of his. The pad of your thumb rolls over the head of his cock again, pressing down against the weeping slit. Through it all, your mouth stays pressed to his. 

He’ll cum soon. He can feel the build up, the tightening in his balls, the twist in his stomach. Bailey squeezes your thighs, nails digging into your flesh, blood welling up beneath them. You respond, biting down hard on his bottom lip. Rust drowns out your taste in his mouth. 

That’s what pushes him over the edge. Hot cum spills over your hand, onto Bailey’s stomach. You pull back, eyes still strange, his blood smeared across your lips as your hips keep moving. Your grip constricts around the two cocks, pressure near unbearable on his sensitive prick as you chase your own end. 

Thankfully, you don't last much longer. You let out a strangled groan as your cum mixes with his, shuddering as the effects of the stimulants finally  start to subside. 

It's as your body starts to relax that Bailey manages to push you off him. You land on the floor with a soft thump, seemingly content to stay there, or maybe unable to move, as he staggers to his feet. The world shifts around him, the ringing returning to his ears. Every movement feels like he’s wading through jelly as he fixes his clothes, leans against a wall for support.  

You’re still laying on the ground, panting with your eyes closed. You don’t make a move to sit up, to scurry away, to even tuck away your softening cock. Slowly, your lids flutter open, and you give Bailey a hazy grin. “Enjoy yourself?” You hold up your cum coated hand, waving it mockingly.

Bailey swings his leg back, aiming to kick you in the ribs, only to hit air as you roll away with a laugh. His foot slams back onto the floor as his head spins at the sudden movement. Fuck, he better not need to see a doctor. 

As Bailey steadies himself, you pick yourself up from the floor, righting your clothes. You’re out the back door before he can even think about stopping you. 

Swearing under his breath, Bailey staggers back into his office. Little shit. He’ll have to punish you later, maybe even drag you off to one of his business partners. Though, it wouldn’t be as satisfying as doing it himself. 

Bailey sinks into the chair in front of his desk. First things first, he needs to figure out if he actually needs to have his head checked out. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello hello! Long time follower!

I really like reading all your translations, theories and fanfics! It's really great to be able to read your thoughts about characters and cards because am a f2p so I have a very limited stash of gems to pull lol

So I was thinking about the rrcent jp update and I went back to read some of your work on Scarabia. I'll admit they weren't amongst my favorites before so I haven't paid too much attention to them. I was wondering then about the couple times you've said Jamil is well off? Maybe it's from one of his SSR cards of his home event, but I can't remember where he or maybe Kalim implies that?

That's it, just a silly question thanks so much for all that you do, I love so much all your theories and thoughts about the lore and the cast! Have a good day!

Hdsbskwhsk I’m glad that my blog brings you joy and makes your free to play experience more fun 🤩 Thanks for sticking with me all this time!

As for your question, I’m not actually sure if there's dialogue which explicitly states the Viper family's level of wealth. I couldn't find any when I combed through, so I had to go off of implications and my own interpretations of those. From what I’ve gathered, I see the Vipers as upper middle class, or at least middle class with a LOT of benefits (the benefits being present boost them to upper middle class due to the lifestyle the benefits afford them).

So firstly, I think there's a lot of debate surrounding Jamil's family income. Some fans seem to think that the Vipers must be destitute due to their position as servants and Jamil's disdain for how the Asims throw around their money and influence. However, perceived social status or class does NOT always equate to being low income. There are people irl who are technically "servants" and "hired help" that make a significant salary while working for much wealthier individuals. There is data for bodyguards, private chefs, executive assistants, and skilled nannies who earn six-figure incomes and/or excellent benefits working for celebrities, politicians, businessmen, etc. (Notably, guarding, cooking, scheduling/planning, and generally looking after Kalim are all a part of Jamil's duties.) Real world examples of this include employees of the White House and the British royal family.

Now, that all depends a lot on the type of people the employers are. There are many wealthy families who mistreat their staff and/or don't pay them well. From what I've seen of the Asims though, I definitely feel that this is not the case. To begin with, the Vipers don't just do one task for the Asims, they do a LOT. You're already aware of the constant work Jamil has to do around the clock to keep Kalim safe and satisfied, but his parents must do the same. They're described as experts in hospitality and are frequently hosting and entertaining guests from all over Twisted Wonderland. This is skilled labor, and that demands commiserate pay. Not only that, but Kalim describes his father as someone who is very generous (and the guy has plenty of money to spare). I don’t see why Mr. Asim would purposefully skimp on specifically paying the Vipers.

I would also imagine that the Vipers are afforded other benefits. Jamil has said many times that he has to look or act a certain way, as his behavior/appearance reflects on the family he serves. Therefore, the Asims may provide other things Jamil and the Vipers need to “look good” and to best represent and serve the Asims. This could mean food, clothes, transportation/travel expenses, education (like additional training, manners lessons, certification exams, etc.) all paid for on the Asim family’s coin. Jamil has mentioned that his parents gave him lessons in everything he’d need to know in order to serve Kalim, so this tells his parents are also well-educated and/or were at least able to pay for lessons for Jamil. And these lessons aren’t “normal” lessons either, it includes things like formal bodyguard training (you’d have to pay for this irl) and formal table manners (which most of us aren’t taught unless we seek it out).

We also recently learned in book 7 that the Vipers live on Asim property, which is very luxurious. Jamil states that his family would be on the streets should they lose their place serving the Asims—and this could be interpreted in a very literal sense if we think of as losing the roof over their heads. Yes, it's technically not land or housing that the Vipers own, but it is still free high-class lodging, nonetheless. It is a benefit that is afford to them (among others) because of their job(s), similar to those real life examples I mentioned before. One could make the argument that none of this wealth truly belongs to the Vipers. However, you could also argue that because these benefits come with the job, it technically is theirs as long as they keep their job (which is, in fact, how jobs irl work; if you stop working for an employer then naturally you’ll stop getting the benefits that come with that job eventually). It’s complicated. I suspect that, at the very least, part of the reason why the Vipers don’t want to depart from serving the Asims is because they don’t want to lose the pay and the perks that come with their work.

I want to add that the Vipers’ position also gives them the unique advantage of exposing them to tons of important individuals. They are able to meet and connect with these VIPs when most people could never even dream of meeting them, even if just from the viewpoint of a servant. It’s a similar to Lilia and Silver, who technically are not rich (money-wise) but still have ties with majorly influential people (members of the Draconia royal family).

Obviously, the Vipers still aren’t as rich as the Asims and probably will never be, but I believe they still enjoy a comfortable lifestyle. We never see Jamil worry about money or being short of it. He gives his VDC/SDC earnings away without batting an eye, unlike Deuce (from a single-parent income family) who keeps the money since it would really help out his mom. He doesn’t have to work a ton of odd jobs to make ends meet (unlike Ruggie). But Jamil does haggle and act frugal. I think that behavior comes from not a genuine need but Jamil being mindful and planning ahead to avoid being scammed. He’s shown to be a cautious individual who often is the one putting the breaks on Kalim’s extravagance, so I feel the skill also comes partly from having to be the one to curb his ridiculous spending and bring Kalim down to earth. Jamil is still the type of person who would tell Kalim when he’s buying too much or overdoing things, even when it’s not Jamil’s own money being spent and he knows Kalim can afford it. That’s what leads me to believe his frugalness isn’t necessarily the result of him being low income and “needing” to save. If that were the case, he shouldn’t care if Kalim throws his own money at buying diamond jewelry for all the dorm members as souvenirs.

I think the closest metric we have as a frame of reference for how wealthy Jamil is comes from the Tapis Rouge event. In it, Jamil forks out 500 thaumarks (or 50000 madol) to buy a jacket. He remarks that the price is fairly expensive but good quality so it’s worth it. Whether you consider this an indicator of his low or high wealth is really all relative to what your own perception is. Jamil had also previously remarked that what the Mostro Lounge charges is absurd. In Ruggie’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes, Azul quotes the price of one soft drink as 4 thaumarks/400 madol. Jamil responds with “Four? Talk about a markup.” It should be noted that the latter example doesn’t mean Jamil cannot afford a drink of that price; he’s complaining about how expensive Azul has made it to capitalize on the high demand. Do with this knowledge what you will.

Anyway, those are my thoughts! I hope I was able to explain myself well. If you have any thoughts, please feel free to express them ^^

[eldest-of-katts]

okay because people have shown up in my dms talking smack I'm going to make one blanket statement on the 1000 year loli chilchuck thing.

yes, there has been a problem with young girls being put in suggestive positions in anime with the "uhmmm she's actually a bajillion years old" excuse. yes, other characters don't treat chilchuck like an adult. yes, he is short with big eyes.

However, chilchuck consistently acts like a grown man. he- in both the manga and the anime- straight up just is an adult. He looks like an adult when he is any other race during the swaps in the manga. When the other characters get turned into half-foots they look similar to chilchuck. He is explicitly stated to have more dungeon and general life experience than laios, and he acts like it.

The 1000 year loli trope explicitly functions as an excuse to prey on people who are inexperienced and unable to advocate for themselves. Chilchuck is a parent, is a union organizer, has explicit boundaries that he enforces rigidly, and he is treated as an adult man by everyone who doesn't have a fantasy racism-focused character arc/issue.

I can see how if you haven't read the manga and seen that he has an established life that he later reveals (and haven't paid attention to him in the anime lol) you could get a mistaken impression about him. Marcielle does too in the source material! It's part of her character at the start of her arc that she has issues with longevity!

The thing that irks me a little about this interpretation is that it leans into the child-coded discourse that was prominent a while ago (she's short!!!!! but has boob???? ILLEGAL!!1!) and it does a disservice to the themes of infantilization as a policy maneuver hurting the working class.

I saw chilchuck and his labor advocacy for half-foots both as a metaphor for racism (obvious take ik) and for ageism.

The working gen z as a cohort are being infantilized and pushed out of job markets due to infantilization, similar to half-foots in the show. gen z is being maliciously portrayed as too young to vote, enter office, know themselves, know their rights, and take advantage of their resources. Simultaneously, child labor protections and protections against workplace abuse are being rolled back in the US. In Japan, young people are being worked to the bone for nothing and are becoming disenfranchised as a generation while simultaneously expected to be the labor faction that supports the postwar generations in their old age.

Chilchuck's being treated poorly I saw as a clever commentary on the ways infantilization allows for protections to be stripped away under the guise that "oh it's just a job for teenagers- they don't need more than minimum wage" or "let the kids rescue the economy! they're always complaining about that job market!" while simultaneously stripping away rights under the guise of protection- "We can't have that on the internet! think of the children!" "to protect these young people we must raise the age of medical consent for hormones/reproductive health decisions!"

Kui's work with this series spoke to me on many levels, and specifically, the infantilization issue touched me in a way that few other pieces of media have. The struggle to be taken seriously in a stem field as someone young, as someone female, and as someone who had a high-pitched voice to the point I did years of voice training to be taken seriously, chilchuck's character resonated. I (kinda) understand your instinct to think "SHORT! CHILD! RALLY THE MASSES AND KILL THE PEDOS!!1!" but in this case, it's misdirected- mostly because the author was trying to use this misdirection to prove something to you, the reader.

Kui consistently makes cutting commentary on modern issues, the show's take on food neutrality as its headliner, but also the author's takes on cultural issues and the environment (with a focus on our place in the food web as animals). I feel that reducing chilchuck's very conscious position as a tradesman and an activist discounted due to his apparent age down to "1000 year loli ewwww let's send this random tumblr user suicide bait" just displays a lack of critical analysis of the show and a level of disrespect towards Kui and the work as a whole.

TL:DR- stop sending me kys messages I'm fucking that old man

[bloodyinkandquill]

Slingshot x Reader who works at Thieves Rest!

ok this is going to be a drabble, for anyone who doesn’t know his cafe is going to be renamed thieves rest in the crossroads rework, and for this the person wanted sling to offer reader a job because reader needed money for rent but while working there found catshot’s maid dress and started to tease sling so that’s the basic premise

—

You slid the tray of dough into the preheated oven closing the door and setting the timer. You sat back against the counter wiping your forehead with the back of your gloved hand, working at the café was laboring work but it paid your bills so you never complained.

The first time you entered the building was just to get a coffee, you had been so stressed and coffee sounded like a good relief. The café named Thieves Rest had a warm cozy feeling and seemed like a small business so you thought it was a good choice. But when you went to pay for your coffee and pastry you realized how low on money you were, grimacing at your wallet the cashier with blue horns almost resembling cat ears took notice.

“Can you not pay?” He asked mid writing your name on the cup he was holding.

“No I can, I just realized even without buying this I can’t afford rent, shit…” You replied sighing as you pulled out the bux to hand to the demon behind the register.

“Well if you need a job I have been looking for someone else to help out around here,” He then inquired. You didn’t realize he was the owner but decided to go for it, worst case scenario you don’t get it best case you get a new job.

“Really? What do you need? I’m free whenever for like an interview or whatever,” You replied hopefully with a half smile.

“You’d mostly just be cleaning, wiping down tables, dishes, maybe throwing a batch or two of pastries in the oven. We’re not too busy right now if you wanna do it now? We can just sit down for a minute and talk,” He asked gesturing to an empty nearby two seater table. You nodded and he finished writing down your order before handing it off to another worker, one with pink horns, and saying something to her you couldn’t quite pick up.

After that you got the job and had been working there for a few weeks, maybe two months? Luckily you could afford rent now and got along with the other workers well, you learned it was just the owner, Slingshot, and his two roommates who were siblings, Vinestaff and Shuriken.

You came back to reality as the former waved a hand in your face, you hadn’t even realized you had zoned out, you two laughed about it before he said Slingshot needed you to grab something from one of the store rooms.

You nodded and went off to grab whatever it was from some box. While looking you came across something surprising.

“What’s taking so long- it should have been in the first box- Oh.” Slingshot said cutting himself off as his face flushed as you turned to show off a blue and white maid dress you had found in a box with a smirk and quirked eyebrow.

“What’s this?” You teased as he tried to snatch it from your hand but you held it behind your back moving to keep it out of his reach as you laughed at his embarrassed face.

“Give that back! It was just a-a promotional thing the café did forever ago-“ He replied taking swipes for it and you held it away from him laughing.

“What you decided to do a maid café thing? I bet you just wanted to wear a maid dress, wait hold on, does this have a tail?” You questioned surprised before he finally ripped it out of your hands face incredibly red shouting no, likely to both questions.

“Hah, I bet you did, you just wanted to wear a cat maid dress, you wouldn’t even need ears because your horns look like cat ears already!” You teased as he looked away embarrassed, a little pouty over all the teasing. He huffed crossing his arms shaking his head slightly.

“What? Don’t wanna be called a cat? Cause you already seem like one, a little kitty,” You continued, “Just a cute little kitty-cat.” You laughed before stopping as you both looked at each other realizing you called him cute. Now you were blushing slightly too, adverting your eyes to keep away from his gaze.

“Do, do you think I’m cute?” He asked inquisitively a smirk forming on his lips, blush dying down slightly.

“I uh- no, of course not!” You replied hastily shaking your hands in front of yourself slightly. It was his turn to laugh at you as he got a bit closer to your face with a raised eyebrow.

“You sure, cause I’m preeettttttttttyy sure I heard you say I was cute,” He replied drawing out the word ‘pretty’ to get his point across.

“I- I need to go do some uh- dishes,” You responded turning around about to go to the sinks before he lightly grabbed the strap of your blue apron to stop you, it was a light enough grip that you could leave if you truly wanted but you let it stop you, turning around red faced finally meeting his eyes.

—

i’ll let yall imagine the rest form there; i’m writing this at the thing i mentioned i had to go to and i’m so hot, fancy clothes are so hot help me, anyways glad to finally finish these two i’ll try and get the next one done, i think it’s the poly reader swocket? that or the icedagger and biograft reader we shall see

[saltygilmores]

11 Reasons Why The Gilmore Girls Episodes Teach Me Tonight and Lost and Found Are Virtually The Same Story

1.Something happens to Rory that is troublesome but hardly life-altering (loses her bracelet/minor car accident) 2.Lorelai immediately dials the minor incident up to eleventy

3. Luke offers Jess' time & labor to the Gilmores behind his back/without his consent (and unironically declares Jess doesn't really need to be paid for either); In TMT he receives tutoring from Rory and in Lost and Found he performs manual labor for Lorelai (gutter slopping), both with little to no complaint, I might add. Lorelai reacts to these suggestions as if her very life is in peril. 4.The inanimate object at the center of the war was “made” by Dean (his car and his Quarter on A String) and both are of questionable monetary and sentimental value to Rory 5. Dean will get angry with Rory for something happening to her that was no fault of her own. One of Rory's deepest concerns in both episodes is Dean's reaction. 6. Lorelai steamrolls Rory's feelings about the incident and insists Rory is in shambles when Lorelai is the one who cares waaaay more about what happened than Rory does. 7. Both the accident and the lost of the Quarter on A String were not due to Jess intentionally setting out to hurt Rory or even to piss off Dean. The car accident was just that, an accident. Lorelai reacts to the accident like it was attempted murder and the "theft" as grand larceny. 8. Lorelai defends Dean in both episodes (she has the nerve to suggest that Dean would never get into a car accident? how she knows this is unclear) 9. Lorelai Gilmore, 33 year old mother of one, declares war on a teenage boy 10. Jess Mariano contemplates where his life went wrong and quietly wishes he was still living with his negligent alcoholic mother and her parade of abusive boyfriends (oh, right, that actually happens after TMT). 11. Lorelai becomes enraged with Luke for "forcing" Jess and Rory together, even though (1) they are friends who hang out on their own and (2) Lorelai literally gave permission for both the gutter-slopping and tutoring (thank you @sarabethsilver) Lemme know if I missed anything else!

[the-final-sif]

I know you are studying law, and I just wanted to ask is there any reason why Quackity wouldn't want to deal with this union thing outside of a court room? Does he just think they're bluffing or does he just think he has enough evidence that he had no idea about the workplace environment and payment issues.

I'm actually not studying law! I keep up with a number of cases and one of my younger brothers is studying law/in the process of becoming a lawyer, but I'm not in college for it or anything. It's mostly just a personal interest and a willingness to sit down and read through case law for like 10 hours to understand why something has to happen a certain way. That and a willingness to go bother the lawyers I know to help understand things.

That aside, I honestly think that some of it is arrogance and an assumption that he's safe because he's not physically in France. Which is a very bad assumption, but he'd hardly be the first person to make it. It's very clear that he doesn't have anyone remotely competent near his company because they would've told him to avoid hiring people in the EU like a plague.

In this case, since he's clear got control over the company (ie being able to come in and change anything he wants whenever he wants), it wouldn't matter if he was aware or not, at least to my understanding.

Within US law at least, there's something called "constructive knowledge" which basically means "regardless of whether or not you actually knew about this, if you were behaving reasonably and according to your duties then you should have known about this". This means that negligence isn't an excuse, particularly when you have managerial responsibility. You can't ignore illegal shit happening and not do your job and then claim no responsibility for the outcome. You have a duty of care to employees, which includes stuff like ensuring people get paid, health and safety measures and also that you aren't employing like, minors illegally or in unsafe conditions.

If employers could just like, not ask for any details about who someone is and thus not be liable for any of their actions, they would happily do that. But they can't, you're supposed to know and keep all this information on file for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is taxes.

Speaking as someone who works at a company with international workers, it's not easy to do and you need to be careful how you do it. If you do it willy-nilly, you end up doing a lot of labor crimes. Like what happened here.

[popfizzles]

Wait so Smith resents Mac for having a DISABILITY AND NOT BEING ABLE TO WORK BECAUSE OF IT??

Well, when you put it like that, yeah, it does sound pretty bad.

Smith has always been a man about constant self-sacrifice.

And he did his best to try and teach Mac the same. But Macintosh didn't have the same work ethic, and he always pushed back against Smith's attempts to get him to work the farm. Smith couldn't even begin to comprehend how Mac didn't have a drive to help, how Mac didn't jump up from his seat when he watched Smith struggle to lift bags or push carts.

Smith just needed a second set of hands, anywhere.

But Mac was at a combatant, bratty age and he didn't want to work 12 hours a day in the blazing heat. Why would he? He was just a kid. They both were, really.

And then the accident happened.

It admittedly shook Smith really hard. It was bad, and it could have been so much worse. Those were almost the last words he ever said to his little brother, after all. Smith still thinks about it so many years later. It was his fault.

Nowadays, they don't really fight like they used to. Sometimes Mac even helps around the farm, and Smith will happily laugh with him about the crazy shit he gets into with his friends. They're brothers, and at the end of the day, they love each other.

But deep down, Smith can't help but feel. Jealous?

It just ain't fair that Macintosh don't have to work and he gets paid more than Smith does doing weeks of CONSTANT back breaking labor. Mac had a single bad night, but Smith gave up years (and is still giving so much of himself).

It's not as plain as it seems on the surface.

It's hard.