#shame we saw his corpse

[nukebag]

doodled a stinky rat man (affectionate)

apologies for stinky camera quality

maybe don’t go into tags if you don’t wanna see mild spoilers

[moonselune]

Hello seluney you godess you, I find that in bg3 the lack of being able to comfort our party after major events is shameful. Like I want to give all of them hugs after their personal quests and only shadowheart gets that after her parents but what about when she left her godess yk? Astarion after cazador karlach after gortash, minthara after orin ect. Please seluney give our gang the comfort they deserve (I feel jaheira when she says she's tired like lemme hug her)

You plea has been answered, I only hope I have done it justice

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The battle was over, the air still thick with the scent of blood and the echoes of clashing steel fading into the night. Gortash lay defeated, his ambitions shattered, Bane had abandoned him. You turned to find Karlach, her eyes fierce yet filled with a deep-seated anguish. She stood over Gortash’s lifeless body, her shoulders heaving with the weight of years of torment and betrayal. After she had lashed out at you, you approached her slowly, your heart aching for the torment she endured.

"Karlach," you called softly, reaching out a hand to her. Her fiery gaze softened when she saw you, and she let out a shuddering breath.

Without a word, she fell into your arms, her powerful frame trembling. You held her tightly, feeling the heat of her body against yours. She buried her face in your shoulder, her breath hot against your neck.

"It’s over," you murmured, gently stroking her back. "You did it, Karlach. You’re free."

She clung to you, her tears soaking into your clothes. "I never thought… I never thought I’d see the day," she choked out. "He’s gone, but the things he did to me… the things I’ve done because of him."

You pulled back just enough to cup her face in your hands, looking into her eyes with unwavering love. "You’re so much stronger than he ever was," you said softly. "You’ve fought so hard and survived so much. None of that defines you. You are more than your past, and you have a future now—a future we can build together."

Karlach nodded, her tears subsiding as she drew strength from your words. She leaned into your touch, her eyes closing as she absorbed your comfort. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for being here with me, for loving me despite everything."

You kissed her forehead, your lips lingering on her warm skin. "Always, Karlach. I’ll always be here for you."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The eerie silence in the Bhaal temple was broken only by the labored breathing of your party. Orin’s twisted form lay still, the crimson of her blood mingling with the dark earth. Minthara stood over the body, her usual composed demeanor shattered by a torrent of emotions. You approached Minthara cautiously, her back to you as she stared at Orin’s corpse. Or at least what was left of it.

"Minthara," you called softly, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. Slowly, she turned to face you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"She… she twisted everything," Minthara whispered, her voice barely audible. "Everything I believed in, everything I fought for."

Without hesitation, you pulled her into your arms, holding her tightly as she trembled against you. "It’s over now," you murmured into her hair. "Orin’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore."

Minthara clung to you, her fingers digging into your back as if afraid you might vanish.

"I was so lost," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I did terrible things, believed her lies… How can you even stand to look at me?"

You pulled back slightly, cupping her face in your hands and forcing her to meet your gaze.

"Because I see you, Minthara," you said firmly. "I see the strength, the courage, the heart that refused to break despite everything. You are not defined by what she made you do. You are so much more."

Tears finally spilled down her cheeks, and she leaned into your touch, her defenses crumbling.

"I… I don’t know how to be anything else," she confessed, her voice a mere whisper.

"Then let me help you," you replied softly, wiping her tears away with your thumb. "Let us find the way together. You don’t have to be alone anymore."

Minthara nodded, her grip on you tightening as she found solace in your embrace. "Thank you," she whispered. "For not giving up on me."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The revelation hit Lae'zel like a tidal wave, her entire world turned upside down by the truth of Vlaakith’s betrayal. She stood, rigid and silent, staring into the distance with eyes that no longer saw the familiar landscape but the shattered remains of her beliefs.

"Lae'zel," you called softly, stepping into her line of sight. Her eyes flickered to you, filled with confusion and pain. Without a word, you reached out and took her hand, offering a silent promise of support. She looked down at your joined hands, her lips trembling.

"Everything I’ve ever known… It was all a lie," she whispered, her voice breaking. "My queen, my purpose… all for nothing."

You pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as if you could shield her from the harsh reality.

"Not for nothing," you murmured against her. "You fought for what you believed was right. Your strength, your courage—they are still real. Vlaakith’s betrayal doesn’t change who you are."

Lae'zel clung to you, her rigid stance softening as she allowed herself to be vulnerable.

"I feel lost," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "I don’t know what to do now."

You pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, your hands resting on her shoulders.

"We’ll figure it out together," you promised. "You are not alone, Lae'zel. We’ll find a new path, a new purpose. One that is true and just."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she nodded, her grip on you tightening.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For believing in me, even when I can’t believe in myself."

You pressed your forehead against hers, a gesture of solidarity and love. "Always," you said softly. "I will always believe in you, Lae'zel."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The air was thick with tension and sorrow as Shadowheart stood at the edge of the camp, her eyes filled with a storm of emotions. The decision to turn away from Shar, even at the cost of her parents' lives, weighed heavily on her. She looked lost, vulnerable in a way you had rarely seen.

"Shadowheart," you called gently, reaching out to her.

She turned to you, tears streaming down her face, her normally composed demeanor shattered. Without a word, you pulled her into a tight embrace, feeling her body tremble against yours.

"I'm here," you whispered, your voice filled with all the love and support you could muster. "You don't have to face this alone."

Shadowheart clung to you, her fingers digging into your back as if you were her lifeline. "I… I thought I was doing the right thing," she choked out. "But it cost me everything."

You gently cupped her face, your thumbs wiping away her tearss, trying not to tear up at the sight of her.

"You did the bravest thing anyone could do," you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. "You chose to be true to yourself, to be free from Shar, even when it meant losing what you loved most. That, my love, takes incredible strength."

Her eyes searched yours, finding solace in your unwavering gaze. "But my parents…"

"They would be proud of you, Shadowheart. Proud that you had the courage to make your own choices. And I am proud of you too." You assured her with a force that was tender and caring.

She nodded, tears still falling but her expression softening with your words. You pulled her close, the warmth of your embrace a balm to her wounded soul.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The news of the Harper infiltration hit like a bolt of lightening. Jaheira stood in the center of the camp, her posture rigid, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and betrayal. She had always been a pillar of strength and wisdom, but this revelation had shaken her to the core.

You approached her cautiously, understanding the depth of her distress.

"Jaheira," you called firmly, walking into her line of sight. She looked at you, her eyes filled with a rare vulnerability.

"I'm fine." She said, though her words betrayed her, you could see tears build in her eyes and you tilted your head at her.

"You are not fine and that is ok, my love." You told her, Jaheira opened her mouth to retort with something sharp and bitter but a choked cry came out instead. Without hesitation, you pulled her into a comforting embrace, feeling the tension in her body slowly ease. "I'm so sorry, I can't imagine how this must feel."

Jaheira sighed deeply, allowing her tears to fall freely, leaning into your touch. "They were like family to me," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "And now… I don't know who to trust."

You held her tighter, your hand gently rubbing her back. "We'll figure this out together," you assured her. "I promise."

"Thank you," she said softly. She pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a mixture of gratitude and determination.

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Always, Jaheira. You're not alone in this. We'll get through it together."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Gale stood by the riverbank, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on his contemplative face. The decision to turn away from Mystra had been monumental, and you could see the weight of it bearing down on him. He looked both relieved and uncertain, a man standing at the crossroads of his destiny.

You approached him quietly, your heart swelling with pride for the choice he had made. You knew it was hard for him but you couldn't help but also feel happy for him.

"Gale," you called softly, coming to stand beside him. He turned to you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. Without a word, you pulled him into a warm hug, feeling the tension in his body slowly melt away.

"You did it," you whispered, your voice filled with admiration. "You chose your own path."

Gale hugged you back tightly, his breath hitching slightly. "It feels… liberating but terrifying," he admitted. "To turn away from a god, from everything I've ever known."

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands resting on his shoulders.

"You are so much more than your connection to Mystra," you said firmly. "You are brilliant, brave, and capable of incredible things on your own."

A small smile tugged at his lips, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and hope. "You really believe that?"

You nodded, your smile widening. "Absolutely. You have the power to shape your own destiny, Gale. And I believe in you, more than anything."

Gale's smile grew, his confidence bolstered by your words. "Thank you," he said softly. "For believing in me, even when I couldn't."

You hugged him again, the warmth of your embrace filling him with renewed strength. "Always," you replied. "I'm here with you, every step of the way, my love."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The room was dimly lit, the flickering torches casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. Astarion stood over Cazador's lifeless body, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with a mix of triumph and terror. Blood splattered his face, his hands still clutching the dagger that had finally ended his tormentor's reign.

"Astarion," you called, your voice breaking through the haze of his fury. He looked at you, his eyes wide and filled with a desperate need for reassurance.

Without a word, you reached out, gently taking the bloodied dagger from his trembling hand. "It's over," you whispered, pulling him into your arms. "He's gone."

Astarion clung to you, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. "I… I couldn't stop," he choked out. "I couldn't stop."

You held him tighter, your hand gently stroking his hair. "It's okay, it's okay" you murmured. "You did what you had to do. You're free now."

His tears soaked into your shirt as he buried his face in your chest, his sobs wracking his body.

"I had to, he had to die, he had to suffer," he whispered, his voice filled with anguish.

You wiped the blood from his face with your fingers, your touch gentle and soothing. "You did what you needed to survive, and I am so proud of you"

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your heart breaking for the pain he had endured. You did what you could, you held him, you reassured him, you loved him. Promising him that one day this will all just be a distant memory.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll stood by the campfire, his face a mask of disbelief and betrayal. The revelation that The Emperor, the mindflayer who had been manipulating you all, used to be the hero Balduran had shaken him to his core. He had idolized Balduran, and now the truth left him reeling. You approached him quietly, your heart heavy with sympathy.

"Wyll," you called softly, coming to stand beside him. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and confusion. Without a word, you took his hand, your touch a gentle reminder that he wasn't alone.

"I know this is hard," you said softly. "But the hero you believed in still exists. It's you, Wyll."

He looked at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation.

You squeezed his hand, your gaze steady and reassuring. "You have the same courage, the same strength, and the same heart that you admired in Balduran," you explained. "You are the better man, because you've faced so much and still choose to fight for what's right."

Wyll's eyes filled with tears, his expression softening with your words. "I just… I wanted to be like him," he whispered.

You pulled him into a comforting embrace, your heart aching for his pain. "You are a hero, Wyll," you said firmly. "In every sense of the word."

He clung to you, his tears soaking into your shoulder. "Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you for believing in me."

"Always, my love," You assure him, pressing a kiss to his temple, rubbing his back gently. "And I will always be the there to remind you, if you ever dare to forget it."

Wyll laughed lightly, murmering in your embrace "I'm sure you will, my love."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The weight of the Shadowcurse had finally been lifted, but the aftermath left Halsin standing amidst the ruins, his heart heavy with sorrow. The destruction it had caused was immense, and the lives lost weighed heavily on his conscience.

"Halsin," you called to him, coming to stand beside him. He looked at you, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. Without a word, you reached out, taking his large hand in yours. "It's over," you said gently. "The curse is lifted."

"You are right, my heart," Halsin sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his grief. "But the destruction it caused… so many lives lost," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You pulled him into a comforting embrace, your touch gentle and reassuring. "You did everything you could," you said softly. "You fought to lift the curse, and now there's a chance for healing."

He held you tightly, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. "I just wish I could have done more," he whispered.

You gently stroked his back, your touch soft and tender. "You did more than anyone else could have," you assured him. "And now, we can work together to rebuild and restore what was lost."

Halsin looked at you, his eyes filled with gratitude and a glimmer of hope. "Thank you," he said softly. "For being here, for understanding."

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Always," you replied. "We'll face this together, and we'll come out stronger on the other side."

Halsin nodded, his expression softening with your words. "With you by my side, I know we can," he said, his voice filled with renewed determination. "Thank you, my love."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

oooof, hope you enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

[amongemeraldclouds]

But Daddy I Love Him

Mattheo and the Slytherin boys rescue you from your father who held you captive one day before your wedding.

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader ft. The Slytherin Boys

Warning: fluff, one use of y/n, cursing, the boys being chaotic. Inspired by the Taylor Swift song with the same title.

✿ Masterlist | 872 words

“Can’t this bloody car go any faster?” Mattheo asked gripping the leather seat, straining against his seatbelt as if he could steer the car faster out of sheer will.

Draco scoffed, “it’s the latest model of flying cars, of course it can. The car is not the problem.” He was insulted that Mattheo would even question the calibre of cars they kept at the Malfoy Manor. They borrowed it from his father without asking, but he didn’t think he would mind.

“We already went over this,” Theo grit his teeth, trying to hold on to the last dregs of his patience. He drove the car over the roofs of buildings and clouds blurred past them. He was going as fast as he could without compromising their safety. “If we let you behind the wheel, you will drive us all straight to a tree. You can’t have a wedding if your corpse is busy rotting in a tree, huh?”

“I’m not some foolish Gryffindor who would do that!” Mattheo argued.

Blaise sucked in his breath, tired of having to play peacekeeper. “Arguing would not get us to her any faster, okay Matty? When has Theo ever let you down?”

Lorenzo chimed in, also eager to diffuse the tension. “What’s next, mate? You just roused us all out of bed to rescue your girl the night before your wedding, what happens when we get there?”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, “I only roused Theo then Draco offered his father’s car when he overheard us. The rest of you tossers invited yourselves.”

“That’s besides the point,” Enzo continued knowing Mattheo would do the same for any of them if they ever needed help. “What’s your genius plan?” 

“When we’re close enough to the estate, I’ll signal y/n. She says she has a plan to escape and we’ll swoop in as the getaway driver.”

“Sounds simple enough when you say it like that,” Enzo mused.

“But daddy I love him!” You declared, losing track of how many times you’ve had to defend your fiancé to your father.

“He’s the Dark Lord’s son-” he begins, his favorite line whenever he tried another argument to dissuade you from you marriage plans.

“Father, I’m having his baby!” You spat out, tired of his same old lines. That shut his mouth.

Your news drained the color from his face as he opened his mouth again to say something and closed it. This was going to bring shame to the family name. He was too stunned to speak.

You tried to hold it in, but burst out laughing. Your father was a man hardened by business and the ways of the world. He was not easily shaken so this reaction was priceless.

“Oh father!” You held your stomach to control your laughter. “You should see your face! I was just joking! See, there are worse things that could happen? Father, I promise this is not as bad as you think. He is nothing like the Dark Lord. He’s doing his best to be better than him.”

Your father mumbled incoherently as if holding back a string of curses. “Dear child, you will send me to my funeral! These white hairs will turn even whiter than snow.”

“Please,” you approached him, holding his hand. Trying to appeal to his affections, the way you did when you asked for a pony when you were younger. “He’s the one I want, if you could just give him a chance and get to know him.” “What about our family name? It will put us to ruin, think about us,” he responds coldly.

“I’m taking his last name, father. You won’t have to worry about that. My name is mine to do with as I please.” You were losing hope, nothing was getting through to him. You just needed to wait for the signal.

As if you summoned it by your thoughts, you saw a light flash three times and you grabbed your wand from a hidden compartment in your dress. That’s on your father for underestimating you, he couldn’t just lock you in - you were no longer his little girl. You saw the car approach the window and withdrew the wand.

“Well father, I wish you would come around. Come to the wedding tomorrow in peace, the cake is fantastic,” you bid him goodbye with those words and you cast an explosion with your wand, bricks flying and dust spraying through the air. You took one last look at your father as he stood to catch you, but you moved faster.

From the clearing that once formed the east wing of your father’s mansion, you grinned at Mattheo and your friends. 

“That’s your escape plan?” Blaise broke through the silence when the car was near enough.

At the same time, Mattheo cheered, “that’s my girl!”

You shrugged, running towards them and taking Mattheo’s hand. You sat on his lap in the front seat of the car as there was no other vacant seat. But you could hardly complain at the chance to snuggle with him.

“It worked, didn’t it?” You simply said as Theo drove you away from the mansion.

Theo just chuckled and shook his head, “you two are really meant for each other.”

✿ Masterlist

A/N: I was listening to TTPD when this whole scene came to mind. It’s the fastest I've written and uploaded a fic so far.

[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."

[x-reader-theater]

Secret Messages from a Lover

summary: While you're streaming, your boyfriend sends you a message.

pairing: Corpse Husband x Gender Neutral Reader (no pronouns are used.)

word count: 670

warnings: none.

a/n: i really just needed to write something so self-indulgent because god i want this so bad. i figured others want it too. i've been so depressed lately that I just need a little fantasy, you know? my requests are open, and you can find my request rules here.

“God, that video is so fucking funny,” you say, pulling your blanket around your shoulders tighter with one hand while the other brings your patterned tumbler with the sparkly straw up to your mouth, so you can drink your water. Your knees pull further up to your chest, which is easily done in your very spacious gaming chair. “OTV never fucking misses.”

You press a button on your stream deck, switching from the video you were just watching to your face, with chat scrolling in the top left-hand corner. You take another sip from your tumbler and pick out one of the comments passing by, scrolling to stop it from moving as you read it aloud.

“Were you on the newest Fear& episode? I was. QT, Hasan, Will, and I just kinda chatted for a bit. That was a good fucking episode, though,” you say with a grin. “Love those guys. QT especially, she’s fucking hilarious. She makes me laugh so fucking hard whenever I talk to her, even if we disagree on Taylor Swift.”

You keep scrolling back down, so you can keep seeing the comments when another one jumps out at you. “Are you gonna keep streaming? Yeah, chatter, I actually just started before that OTV video. I think Toast is gonna invite me to some Pico Park today? If not, I’ll just play some Valorant or something to pass the time. I gotta git good if I wanna beat, well, anyone,” you admit with a laugh, hiding your shame by taking another drink of water.

You see your phone light up in front of you. It’s a Discord notification, which you quickly check on your second monitor, assuming it’s Toast inviting you to the Discord call.

It’s not. It’s your boyfriend, Corpse.

“You look so cute today babe. You look so cosy wrapped up in your blanket and your smile is so bright. I'll never get tired of seeing it. I love you and have a good stream 🖤”

You feel your cheeks heat up at that, and you take a sip of your water to try and hide your reaction. You haven’t told anyone you're dating Corpse yet, and you have no plans on it any time soon, but he makes you so happy you find it hard not to blurt it out whenever you can.

You send back a bunch of yellow hearts and an “I love you too!!!!!!! 💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛”, biting your lip as you type on your very satisfying, clack-y keyboard.

That’s when you get the notification from Toast to join the shared call.

“Ah! Toast’s calling!” you exclaim for the benefit of your audience.

You quickly join the call, the connection sound filling you comfortable, over the ear headphones.

“Hey! What’s up!” you say into the call, getting a couple of “Hey!”’s and “Hello!”’s back.

Then you hear a familiar voice say, “What’s up.”

“Corpse!” You’re grinning at this point as you continue, “I didn't know you were gonna be playing!”

“Uh, yeah. Toast invited me last minute. Surprise?” he says like it’s a bad thing.

“We haven’t played anything together in a while and I saw him online and thought, ‘Fuck it,’ yaknow?” Toast asks and you chuckle.

“Well, it’s good to talk to you again, Corpse,” you say, setting your tumbler down on your desk. He got you that tumbler for your birthday not long ago, and it’s your favourite thing you own. He also got you the blanket that’s wrapped around your shoulders for your six-month anniversary, and it’s the warmest blanket in your house. You always wear it when you stream because the A/C is always blasting.

“It’s good to talk to you too,” you say, shivering as your heart hammers at his words.

You begin loading up Pico Park, just listening to everyone talk to each other, when you get another notification on Discord.

“I love you 🖤” it says.

“I love you too 💛” you reply, smiling into the camera for just a moment, just for him.

[alicelufenia]

Killing The Grove But Not Killing Your Friendship With Karlach And Wyll - A Patch 7 Guide

Friendship ended with Halsin and the druids, but not with the two good-aligned companions. As a dark mirror to the KO Method for recruiting Minthara on a good playthrough, this is what has been dubbed the "Murder Method" to recruit Karlach and Wyll on an evil (or at least very chaotic if at one time well meaning) playthrough.

Pictured above: Kagha giving even a good-aligned Tav a reason to side with Minthara, probably.

This is a follow up to my original guide [x], so I will only give the highlights here. The general gist is this: So long as a civil war between the druids and the tieflings at the grove is triggered, AND the tieflings die (completing the Save the Refugees quest), the Raid the Grove quest can be completed without a raid battle.

To explain, there seems to be only two things that cause Karlach and Wyll to leave:

Triggering the raid battle against the tieflings, no matter how many remain from the druids attacking, triggers Wyll to leave and Karlach to lose so much approval she's likely to leave just from that alone.

Speaking with Minthara in the Secluded Chamber and proceeding to the goblin party causes both Wyll and Karlach to leave, but only if they are currently alive when the transition happens.

EDIT: I've gotten reports of people losing Wyll and Karlach upon moving to the goblin party, even if they're dead before hand. So I need to clarify, for this to work they need to be both dead and not in the party. This can be done by getting them killed (by enemy attacks, damage over time like fire, or jumping to their death), then instead of Withers resurrecting them, ask him to collect your fallen companions. This will spawn their corpses in camp (all their loot and gear will stay on them) and remove them from the party list. This will be how you know they are now in his care, and can proceed.

This also means that you don't need them dead before the fighting starts. They can steal the idol, fight Kagha, whatever you want to do to kick off the druids attacking the tieflings. As long as they are dead and in Wither's care before proceeding to the goblin after-raid party, this should work (but as always, have a backup save, and attempt this in Honor Mode at your own risk).

For this test, I had two objectives: Steal the idol without my party members getting caught (so as not to slow down the druids and give the tieflings a fighting chance) and returning it to Mol for the "Steal the Idol" quest reward, and, on the chance Kagha is still alive after the fighting, TAKE THE IDOL BACK FROM MOL. This is critical I think, as every time it's not been in my inventory when Kagha is still alive, the grove seals as soon as we leave.

Once again, because Alice sucks at pickpocketing, I just paid through the nose (800 gold) to buy it back from Mol. I'm sure she's satisfied with the results. It is possible to pickpocket it from her though. I then shapeshifted into a halfling and escaped out the secret exit and waited out the fight.

And that's when I saw Arabella again!

I swear she came running out the secret hole right past me!

She was too fast for me to keep up with Shovel, the druids all ignored her, and she doesn't stop moving in turn-based mode. Still, there she goes.

It's a shame I'm going to have to redo this whole sequence for my main save (I skipped a lot of things I did previously to get this done fast), however now that I know where she appears from I may be able to trigger it consistently. If so, I will report back on whether Arabella shows up later!

Despite Kagha surviving, the grove doesn't seal when we leave the area, and the Emerald Grove Environs waypoint remains. So holding onto the idol was the key here.

Minthy is upset that we started the slaughter without her, but she prepares her raiding party all the same. One long rest later:

Here's something new for patch 7, Karlach has something to say upon finding Dammon's body.

It's genuinely pretty sad, and you've got a couple things you can say in response. Honestly it's been a long time coming.

I'm curious whether this triggers if he dies at Last Light too. Something for others to investigate (I do not guarantee the safety of the inn either on my playthrough :p)

Looks like Minthara took care of Kagha for us. She was even nice enough to leave the loot. No sign of Rath though, so no getting the Sorrow glaive. Just pickpocket the rune off him first, I guess.

For the record, nothing happens when we investigate her secret stash and notes at this point. Oh well!

All the animals are dead except for Topaz! I guess that was his lucky coin after all.

Also something I forgot to confirm last time, the kids' hideout is still empty. So I still say Mol and the others got out. Another point in the favor of doing things like this.

The game still is treating it like you killed the tieflings. Strange, the patch notes said Minthara would have something to say if there were no tieflings left, but it's all the same here. Wow, Larian saying something was added for Minthara, only for it to just not be there? What a wild concept.

Also you can barely see it but Karlach and Wyll here also have their eyes closed, implying Minthara's sharing her mental snuff film and porn movie with them too. Yikes, that's awkward, sorry guys this is. Like, a Durge and Minthy thing, just for the two of us? Didn't mean to involve you, just lie down in fire a bit for me.

Thanks guys, you're the best!

I swear they're both some of my favorite characters! I do this because I love them.

So yeah, make sure Karlach and Wyll are dead and entrusted to Withers before talking to Minthara, as finishing her dialogue moves you to the goblin party, and they'll both ditch if they're alive for it.

You can bring them back once you're actually at the party though.

Also they changed Withers' resurrection animation to be much faster! They were revived before he was done speaking!

They're both chill! And Wyll has new greetings dialogue for higher approval! This is apparently his "Very High" greeting. EDIT: Actually it's his low approval greeting, because the only companion Larian hates more than Minthara is Wyll, sadly. It's a bug that should get fixed soon, but who knows when.

Once again, you probably don't need their approval this high, but it doesn't hurt. Plus hey, I honestly think they'd get along with Alice, so I'm glad they're here this time.

We roll in the hay with Minthara, have a civil discussion over drawn knives, and she gives me her lyre so we can take the mountain pass way to Moonrise. And the camp is just how it should be: Karlach and Wyll still with us, and a huge ritual circle painted in tiefling blood in the middle of camp (because of Durge things, not the goblins).

Keeping Wyll and Karlach post goblin party in patch 7 - Success!

I hope everyone enjoyed this, and it helped you make the most of your evil playthrough. Now you can have all origin characters along for the horrible, horrible ride.

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 16

We are really getting down the end here. I think I have two or three more chapters to go and then it's complete. There's a lot that happens at the end so don't know how long it will take but it's looking like chapter twenty will be the last.

So thank you to everyone who's stuck it out this long. I know there aren't many anymore but I love each and every one of you who did.

We get more clues and Wayne runs afoul an ex.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

~

Nancy chewed her lip as she flipped through the pages of the Hawkins Post trying to find anything that would spark her memory, but she was coming up empty. She was sure that there had been something that happened before Steve’s parents died.

“You know...” Wayne said gruffly after about an hour of them researching manticores, “you could just ask me. I’ve been around this town since it’s inception. There is very little I don’t remember.”

She let out a frustrated huff. “I just don’t remember when it was so I can’t even do that. It’s just this vague memory of there being an uproar in the pack. Which considering the upheaval this pack has had in the last twenty years, that really doesn’t narrow it down at all.”

Wayne clasped his hands over his mouth and looked at her for a moment. “You’re thinking too broadly.”

Nancy looked down at the newspaper in front of her with a frown and then back up at him.

“What do you mean?”

He laid his fists on the book in front of him and leaned forward toward her. “You’re what seventeen-eighteen?” She nodded. “It’s something you saw. Which means that it can’t be something longer than fifteen years ago as you’d be too little. But most likely it was probably closer to twelve or thirteen years ago as that’s when your core memories form. So what happened in the pack a dozen or so years ago?”

Nancy’s eyebrows furrowed deeper as she cast her mind back. She jumped up out of her chair and ran over to the side. She started scanning the correct year and pulled out another folio. She hurried back to the table where she began flipping through the pages like a woman on a mission.

She cried, “Eureka!” and turned it around so Eddie and Wayne could see.

May 23rd 1975

The Great Chicago Pack Has Announced the Banishment of One Dr. Alexei Oborin.

The former scientist had claimed that the five teenagers he found in the woods near the pack’s compound were hunters and that they attacked him first. However when other members of the pack arrived there were no signs of a struggle, only the mangled corpses of the three boys and two girls.

...

The article went on further to explain that the five teenagers who were traveling cross country were merely high school students who had wandered too close to the pack compound.

“This!” she cried when she was sure they had read enough. “It really spooked Hopper because it sounded like what had happened here, with Steve’s mom.”

Wayne nodded and looked up at Eddie who nodded too. He slid it back over to her.

“I remember that,” Wayne said, gruffly. “His mate swore up and down that Alexei was too gentle and childlike to have committed such things and that the kids must have goaded him into it.”

“What happened to the mate?” Eddie asked, jumping off the table and landed deftly on his feet, soft as a kitten. “The article didn’t say.”

Wayne shook his head. “It was never said, but most mates will willingly leave the pack to travel with the Banished One.”

“Banishment is such a big deal,” Nancy said, tapping her fingers on the table, the clack clack on her nails hitting the wood loud in the now quiet space. “It is reversible but only an alpha can do it.”

“It is,” Wayne agreed, “and it’s a shame that Steve had even threaten it to get the older members of your pack to behave.”

Nancy opened her mouth to argue but Eddie scoffed cutting her off without a word.

“You purebreds are all the same,” he muttered darkly. “Vampire, werewolf doesn’t matter. You can’t see the worth of anyone bitten. So sure that you are better than them. Steve’s half and as far as your pack is concerned it’s the wrong half. But he’s the only one standing between the pack and its annihilation at the hands of the vampire coven. And worse you have a fox in your hen house and it galls you that not only did Steve figure there was one, he figured out who it was and has been keeping him on a short leash. All without your help.”

Nancy glared at him, but he refused to blink, forcing her to look away first.

“You best see to the happenings in your pack, missy, before you go casting judgment on us.” Wayne growled. “You came in here like you owned the place, was rude to my nephew, and barked at me for offering to help. If Ed or I had been watching your moon night, we might know a hell of a lot more than we do now and I wouldn’t have to call in a favor from the last person I ever want to see again. And I know it was you that drove the final nail in the coffin of not having one of us there, so don’t you act high and mighty with me.”

She ducked her head and put her hands in her lap. She knew they were both right. It was the pack’s prejudice against vampires and outsiders as whole that had caused the incident unfold the way it did.

The key to this mystery lay in the incident with the hunters but she couldn’t figure out how.

“I’m sorry,” Nancy muttered, picking at her nail polish. “I just don’t know who to trust.”

Wayne scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, you do. You just need to put away your pride to do it.”

~

Eddie and Wayne walked out of the library squinting into the blaring sun.

Eddie chewed his lip thoughtfully. “This getting out of hand, and if his female alpha is against him, the older members of his pack are against him and the younger ones putting their trust in the adults, there is a traitor in his keepers, and plus all the shit with the education system building little hunters...” he shook his head. “His only allies are us, that keeper Buckley and that’s it.”

“Steve is being harried on every side,” Wayne said in all seriousness. “And I don’t know how to protect him.”

Eddie rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So we surround him with non-pack supes.”

“What do you mean, Ed?” Wayne asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I can’t involve Jeff, not with him being a part of the coven,” Eddie said, “but I have other friends who are supernatural beings. After all, if Steve is advocating for all supes they might be willing to protect him.”

Wayne nodded. After their time with Nancy he trusted the pack even less. There was something going on in this town that making it rot.

He clasped Eddie on the shoulder. “Go, gather your friends, I’ll meet up with you at the high school, I have my fish to fry.”

Eddie nodded and shifted, taking off in flight.

Wayne looked up at his nephew, now but black spot in the harsh daylight and shook his head. His boy had his heart in the right place, plus he didn’t want Eddie to know about who he was going to see.

~

Wayne started to relax in the setting sun and he began to unwind his protections. He pulled on his usual flannel and shoved the rest into his knapsack.

Just then a man oozed out of the shadows and smiled at him.

“I never expected to hear from you again,” the man muttered.

“Sam,” Wayne replied tersely. “I should have ripped you to pieces when I found out what you were.”

Dr. Sam Owen looked around him with a shrug and tilt of his head. “And leave this place without its staunch protector?”

Wayne growled, his fangs dropping and his eyes turning blood red.

“Don’t be like that, darling,” Sam cooed. “I told you before and I’m telling you again. That wasn’t my real wife or my real kids. I was undercover.”

“Yeah?” Wayne huffed. “That why you fucked her then? For your cover?”

Sam’s easy smile fell for the first time. “What?” His jaw was set in a hard line and gaze turned to steel.

Wayne laughed bitterly. “I could smell the stench of sex the moment I walked into that damned house. There were no other scents but yours and hers, so don’t you feed me some line.”

“I’ve heard of vampires having keen senses before but this one is new to me,” Sam said, excitement coloring his tone.

“If I didn’t need something from you,” Wayne spat, “I would fucking hit you right now. Are you really choosing to focus on my sense of smell after I just told you I knew you cheated on me?”

Sam straightened his spine. “Right, right. Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.” He gently brought a finger under Wayne’s chin. “She was a succubus.”

Wayne’s head rocked back and away from his finger. “You telling me right now, demons exist?”

“I don’t know why that is such a surprise,” Sam said, cocking his head to the side as he regarded Wayne’s reaction with curiosity. “Fae, djinn, roc, wendigos, vampires, sirens, selkies, set animals, aqrabuamelu all exist why would demons be the exceptions?”

Wayne glared at him. “Because dragons, unicorns, actual fucking gods don’t exist, so yeah I figured heaven and hell were off the table too.”

Sam shook his head. “No, no. Demons aren’t of hell. Not in the way certain religions believe. But gumiho exist and so do incubi and succubi. The latter two smell strongly of intercourse. It’s a kind of pheromone they give off when distressed.”

“I–I didn’t know,” Wayne muttered, dropping his gaze to the floor.

He took a step toward Wayne and cupped his cheeks. “I should have sought you out after you ran off, I knew where you were, I could have come and cleared up the misunderstanding, but I didn’t. This is on me entirely. What ever you want, whatever you need. Just ask and I’ll grant it.”

Wayne looked up into the agent’s eyes. “Can you get me all the information on the banishment of Dr. Alexei Oborin?”

“Done.”

Wayne chuckled and shook his head gently out of Sam’s grasp. “You aren’t going to ask what for?”

“No,” Sam said with a smirk. “Because I know you, Wayne. You are one tough son of a bitch, but your instinct is rarely wrong. I’ve come to rely on that fact.”

“There are some pretty weird shit going down in this town, Sam,” he growled. “It’s making the air feel like just before an electric storm. Cackling with danger and the smell of ozone.”

Sam nodded. “We’ve been looking into some things since the Harrington alpha was attack. I don’t know if our two investigations are related, but I don’t see how they can be.”

“You aren’t keeping shit from me, are you Sam?” Wayne asked, cocking his head to the side.

The agent sighed. “It’s not keeping it from you if I can’t tell you what I’m working on. You know that.”

“If there is something with that boy that you aren’t telling me,” Wayne growled, “I will rip your balls off.”

“Wayne...I’m investigating. I don’t know anything yet.” Sam rubbed his face in frustration.

The vampire eyed him warily, but nodded. “I want those files as soon as you can.”

“I promise.”

Wayne walked away from Sam and then transformed, taking flight. Below the agent looked up at the winged creature and sighed.

This complicated matters.

~

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Tag List: SEVENTEEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @fullpoetrybread @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookworm0690 @littlewildflowerkitten @just-a-tiny-void @potato-of-the-lord @thelittleclare

5- @goosesister @tinyplanet95 @she-collects-smut @irregular-child @y4r3luv

6- @fairytalesreality @anaibis @papergrenade @ravenfrog @blondie1006 @dreamercec

7- @thedragonsaunt @sadisticaltarts @kultiras

[rejectedfables]

I think often about Jin Guangyao’s “[I murdered] my father, my (older) brother, my wife, my son, my teacher, my friend” quote. I think about how Jin Guangyao, a man known for self effacing politeness to the point of taking blame and shame onto himself to alleviate the tempers of others, in this moment takes complete responsibility for "murders” that he absolutely did not commit. And I think about how the audience both in the story and outside it, take his words at face value.  

I think there are multiple ways of interpreting who this quote is about. Obviously Father = Jin Guangshan, Wife = Qin Su, Son = Jin Rusong, those are clear. I think (older) Brother could either be Nie Mingjue or Jin Zixuan. I think "teacher” could be Wen Rouhan or Nie Mingjue. Friend could be Nie Mingjue, Su Minshan, or Xue Yang.

So I think the ONLY options for [brother, teacher, friend] (in that order) are: 

NMJ, WRH, and SMS

NMJ, WRH, and XY

JZX, NMJ, and SMS

JZX, NMJ, and XY

JZX, WRH, and NMJ

JZX, WRH, and SMS

JZX, WRH, and XY

I also saw a translation where he said “friends” plural, which would reduce the list to:

NMJ, WRH, XY and SMS

JZX, NMJ, XY and SMS

JZX, WRH, SMS and NMJ

JZX, WRH, XY and NMJ

JZX, WRH, XY and SMS

However, given the importance of his relationship with NMJ, I feel like we can safely eliminate any that exclude NMJ entirely. Similarly, there cannot be characters mentioned here who are unnamed or unknown to the reader, as that wouldn’t make any Doylist sense. We are left with a list that consists of Nie Mingjue, either WRH or JZX or both, and possibly XY and/or SMS. 

Regardless of which of those combinations you use, he did not directly OR EVEN DELIBERATELY murder everyone on that list. Let’s go through them:

Jin Guangshan: Yes, he deliberately ordered and orchestrated his father’s death. Outstanding, earned, poetic, no notes. (Okay maybe SOME notes, but like, listen. Listen.) 

Qin Su: Qin Su killed herself. In the animation, Jin Guangyao used the skull-piercing nails to force her suicide, but this is not canon to the novel. Bicao claims that Jin Guangyao must have killed her to silence her, despite her suicide having many witnesses (including us! the readers!), but Wei Wuxian (who WAS THERE) speculates that she couldn’t handle the reality of her marriage, as illuminated to her BY Bicao, or the prospect of societal shame if it got out. However, even IF “your actions drove her to suicide” were the rubric here, that’s still not quite the same as “you murdered her”, nor does it seem to be the outcome he was hoping or planning for. “JGY murdered her” is factually inaccurate, and a blatant propaganda tactic being used against him-- but perhaps it felt emotionally true to HIM because he’s grieving his DEAD WIFE and he FEELS responsible.

Nie Mingjue: JGY spent something like 5+ years suffering physical and verbal abuse and explicit threats of death by Nie Mingjue, then was tasked with killing Nie Mingjue by his father. He did so in a sneaky way, so as to not endanger himself further or get punished for (or perhaps cause an inter-sect conflict/war by) killing the leader of a rival sect.

Wen Rouhan: JGY stabbed him in all adaptations, A+, war hero.

Jin Zixuan: JGY, on his father’s orders, orchestrated a situation that led to Jin Zixuan’s death. We cannot know for SURE that JGY wasn’t aiming for his death but we CAN say that “Wei Wuxian accidentally compelling Wen Ning to kill the ONE GUY PRESENT Wei Wuxian did NOT want to kill” (OR “WN killing JZX of his own accord against WWX’s orders”) would have been a weird bet to make. This seems highly unlikely to have been JGY’s goal, but it was certainly caused by a situation he created. He also did not actually literally kill the guy.

Su Minshan: Su She died to protect Jin Guangyao from Nie Mingjue’s fierce corpse. Jin Guangyao is only “responsible” for this in the vaguest or terms and worst faith of interpretations. Technically Su She wouldn’t have died there if not for JGY on multiple levels (wouldn’t have had to protect him, NMJ’s fierce corpse being JGY’s fault, wouldn’t have been present at all if JGY hadn’t summoned him there, etc.), but if Jin Guangyao describes this as “I murdered him” that’s... a stretch. Again, like with Qin Su, this feels like something he might say because he FEELS responsible, rather than because he actually is.

Xue Yang: JGY ordered Xue Yang’s execution (or possibly ordered a fake execution, but this seems less likely) directly before he fled, injured, to Yi City. He did not die here. Later, after reconnecting and while still following Jin Guangyao’s orders, Xue Yang was killed by other people in opposition to Jin Guangyao’s wishes and plans. Again, TECHNICALLY Xue Yang would not have died when he did were it not for Jin Guangyao, but describing it as “Jin Guangyao murdered him” is QUITE a stretch. Due to the title of the “Villainous Friends” extra, which is about JGY and XY specifically, XY seems the most likely candidate to me for “Friend” in this quote, which is bizarre because I think his death is actually the LEAST connected to Jin Guangyao. Jin Guangyao wasn’t even present, nor did Xue Yang die FOR Jin Guangyao-- just on his payroll. BUT perhaps he still felt guilty for ORDERING his execution, and simply his willingness to HAVE Xue Yang killed counted enough to make the list.

I’ll get to the last one, but I’m pausing here to say: What all of this means is that no matter who is or isn’t on that list, it is NOT an objective list of factual murders. It is a list of people who’s deaths Jin Guangyao FEELS RESPONSIBLE FOR.

Even before we get to who counts as teacher, brother, or friend, even JUST his wife solidifies this. But it isn’t JUST her either-- even if we cut SMS and XY (the other two BIG stretch candidates) from the equation, that leaves us ONLY with NMJ(friend), WRH(teacher), and JZX(brother). And Jin Zixuan is the other one that really should not make the list of people JGY “murdered”.

This is a list of people who’s deaths Jin Guangyao FEELS RESPONSIBLE FOR.

Which brings us to the last one:

Jin Rusong: The quote (I believe this is a fan translation, but not sure) "One of the opposing sect leaders lost the arguments [about the watchtowers], and went into a murderous rage, killing Jin Guangyao and Qin Su’s only son. The boy had always been a good child and the couple had loved him dearly. Under resentment, Jin Guangyao tore down the entire sect in revenge” is, to my knowledge/memory, the only real account we’re given of what happened. “Lost the arguments and went into a murderous rage” doesn’t sound like the child was found dead some time later, and they had to investigate. It sounds like it happened in public, with witnesses, immediately. 

In the same scene where Bicao convinces an audience that Qin Su, who famously killed herself on screen in a room full of people with a (now) known motive for suicide, “must have” been murdered by Jin Guangyao-- in that same scene others speculate that Jin Rusong, who was famously killed by a political opponent in a “murderous rage” most likely DURING A CONFERENCE, “must have” been murdered by Jin Guangyao. 

I think "I angered an opposing sect leader so much that he killed my son" being translated by JGY into "I killed my son" is EXACTLY IN LINE with the rest of his list. How is that different than "I ordered Xue Yang's assassination, and later put him in a situation that caused others to kill him" being translated to "I killed my friend"? Or “Su She died to protect me” being translated to “I killed my friend”? Or “I didn’t anticipate my brother’s unwitting involvement in a covert operation would get him accidentally killed, which no one wanted, not even the guy who did it” being translated to “I killed my brother”? Or “I tried to protect my pregnant fiancé/wife from a horrible secret I only just learned, which would ruin her life, and when someone confronted her with it TO HARM ME she couldn’t live with it and killed herself” being translated to “I killed my wife”? It’s the same!

I do not believe that Jin Guangyao killed Jin Rusong. I believe “I murdered my son” is an example of the way that Jin Guangyao speaks about himself-- always taking the maximum responsibility onto his own shoulders. If he was in any way responsible, than he was completely responsible. If he FEELS responsible, then he MAY AS WELL have murdered them.

The context of when he says this quote also matters towards how we interpret it’s meaning. He was already attempting to flee the country, aware that the cultivation world was actively turning on him for crimes that he did AND DIDN’T commit. He was surrounded by people he thought cared about him, all of whom seemed determined to stop him from achieving a safe exit. He had had all the horrible things he felt responsible for (regardless of how directly or deliberately he was involved in those events) thrown in his face by said loved ones, while they looked at him with horror. Su Minshan had just been killed trying to PROTECT HIM, and now it looked like it had been for nothing anyway. Huaisang, who he is shown as doting upon throughout their decades long relationship, has just manipulated Lan Xichen (do I even have to go into how important Lan Xichen is to him? Please say no, please say this much at LEAST is universally understood) into BEING THE ONE to STAB HIM. 

In this moment, he believes that he’s going to die, and be reviled in death by society and his loved ones alike. He knows there’s nothing left he can say or do, he hasn’t had time to process Su She’s death, and Lan Xichen has JUST (accidentally) betrayed him (which he also hasn’t had time to process). 

And also, notably, he had very recently been IN POSSESSION of the TIGER TALLY. 

AND HE’S BEEN STABBED! To my memory this scene happens while he’s missing an arm and LAN XICHEN’S sword is still INSIDE HIS GUTS. His emotions and reasoning are probably NOT the most calm or rational right now (blood loss, pain, fear, grief, influence of the tiger tally, etc.), and this “confession” should be taken with that in mind. 

I just think a lot about how “I murdered [everyone I’ve loved except for you]” is such a raw and telling line, given the context. Even if it’s more like “I murdered [everyone I’ve owed devotion to except for you]”, that’s still so painful. He blames himself for all of it. All of it! The world celebrated Wen Rouhan’s death, but Jin Guangyao added it to his personal list. Jin Guangshan is arguably the most reprehensible character in the entire story, and ruined every part of Jin Guangyao’s entire life, but he’s on the list. He did everything in his power to protect Qin Su, and when she found out the truth he continued offering her ways he could protect her, but she chose to kill herself, and she’s on the list. He tried to improve the world with the watchtowers, and someone retaliated by murdering his son, and he claimed responsibility for that too.

He knew he was being blamed for their deaths, knew it was propaganda and slander and bad faith, but he blamed himself too. So he just... accepted it. I did it. It was me, I murdered them.

And so, so, so many people, in his world and in ours, were so, so eager to agree

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 3 - 3.7K WC

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3 (you are here!)

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

_________________

“Are you sure? No shame in staying behind.” Shadowheart said as she adjusted the last strap on the dark justicar armor she lent you. She looked concerned and wary.

“I’m sure, like you said, we are just going to a cemetery to talk to Raphael then come back. Sounds easy enough.” You shrugged. No wonder everyone’s movement in the game was limited, armor is heavy as shit. 

Shadowheart paused, “How did you know it’s Raphael? I only said we had a devil to see…” she trailed off.

“Oh, umm…. With what you’ve told me this sounds like a Raphael thing… he has a certain flare for the dramatics that’s hard to miss.” You deflected trying so hard to sound casual. 

Shadowheart hummed but you could tell she was… suspicious. Before you could spiral into an anxious heap, Astarion walked swiftly between the two of you. Hitting your shoulder unnecessarily he said “Are we going to stand around all day coddling them or shall we go?” 

He always looked so pissed to be in your general vicinity and you noticed it more and more since the night you showed the group your phone. It had been a week since then, you worked with everyone to build your skills up. Everyone was pretty comfortable around you as of late, Karlach even going as far as to say she trusts you. So why was he the exception? You hadn’t done anything negative towards him? Was he upset about his reflection? Maybe you shouldn’t have sprung that on him? Whatever it was, it was making you both anxious and annoyed. 

Truth be told, you were still kinda new to playing Baldur's Gate III in your world. The last save you remember was finishing the last trial in The Gauntlet of Shar. You just hope your limited knowledge might be useful somehow. You have to be mindful however. Little slips like the one with Shadowheart, showcasing that you knew more than you let on, could cause unexpected consequences. You had a few similar slip ups throughout the week but were thankfully able to brush them off. And you still had no idea how to tell them about you, the real you. You decided to keep it hidden for now, and when somebody inevitably asks you’ll tell them all. 

——————————

You stepped through the portal with Astarion, Karlach, and Shadowheart. It left your body tingling for a moment. You looked around and vaguely recognized where you were. It’s definitely the Shadow Cursed Lands. The building in front of you looked abandoned but everything in the lands looked abandoned. You started walking forwards to the door of the building. You don’t remember anything bad here from your gameplay. The doors opened and you saw the first person outside of your little jolly group of misfits. She looked like a nurse and didn’t appear to be hostile. The others walked behind you as you slowly walked towards her. She was dipping a sponge into a basin of bloody water and cleaning the leg of a corpse. There were two of them actually. Both dead on separate beds, arms outstretched towards each other. 

“The doctor is quite busy today… you may wait in line to be seen.” The nurse said. 

“Why are you cleaning corpses, surely there must be something better to do.” Astarion said, typical sass in his voice but also confusion.

“Corpse? They’re merely sleeping…” she said softly, continuing to clean. 

“Mmmmm no, those are definitely dead.” He responded, tapping the lid of a nearby jar.

The nurse turned to look at Astarion. “Perhaps I should turn my services elsewhere?” She said dropping the sponge back into the bowl. She pulled out a bone saw and started walking towards him. His eyes widened.

“Sister, look…” you said, pointing towards the bodies. Her head instantly snapped away from Astarion. 

“Oh sister they’ve been so well tended to. They sleep like angels. They must be so grateful.” You said, eyeing Astarion as if trying to tell him to back up and shut up. 

She dropped the bone saw, grabbing your hands. They were cold and shaking. “Truly? These hands… the doctor must be notified of all patient improvements.” She said starting to walk towards the center of the house where a heavy closed door laid. 

“Wait!” You said quickly.

She looked at you, head cocked to the side.

“Your patients will wake soon. Who is lovelier to wake up to than their doting nurse? You stay, I’ll notify the doctor.” You smiled at her. 

She shook her head vigorously, “Right, they need me. The doctor is in surgery right now… wait for him there.” She pointed at the large door before grabbing the sponge from the bowl. “Take these will you?” She asked, dropping two rings in your hands. Shadowblade rings. They were Arabella’s parents. 

You pocketed them quickly and thanked the sister before silently backing up and walking away. 

“Is that your talent? Comforting deranged nurses?” Astarion jabbed. 

You elected to ignore him, not feeding into his negativity. 

You walked into the operating theater. The doctor had just removed a man’s eyes, the sisters cutting him randomly and harshly. Your eyes widened and you fought the urge to throw up. Seeing this in a game and in real life we’re vastly different and this was insanely more disturbing. 

Your foot hit some debris on the floor, notifying everyone of your existence.

“Are you here to aid in surgery? I asked for an attending hours ago…” said the doctor, flinging the man’s eyes off into a corner of the room. 

“Yes… of course doctor my apologies.” You detach yourself from your group. The man on the operating table whimpered and whined. His throat was all raw from the endless screaming you imagined. You walked closer to the man. The doctor handed you one of the nurses knives. 

You took it gently, the man continued to struggle against his confines. You looked at your companions, they looked at you with just as much anxiety as you felt. 

“Be ready” you mouthed to Karlach. She nodded, your companions slowly moving into different locations. 

You looked to the doctor who was holding a bone saw. You weren’t exactly in the *best* spot for a battle to start. Let alone your first battle. Let’s just hope somebody likes you enough to give Withers a little gold if the worst happens. 

You swiftly plunged the knife into the doctors throat, shoving the nurse next to you as you grabbed your sword. Lae’zel gave you The Cruel Sting for your first time outside of camp, bless her angry ass. You swung at the nurse on the opposite side of you, the sword ensnared her. The nurses spread out, your companions taking them on. The doctor turned his focus to you. “Petulant child…” he said before knocking you on your back, he held his bone saw under your chin. “Don’t fret, I’ll be sure to cure you of your…. Affliction.” He laughed while tapping his head.

You held your arm up just in time for the bone saw to clatter against your armor. Karlach shot her bow at him as soon as she saw you on the ground. The air stunk of drow poison and that seemed to be enough to turn the doctors attention. You scurried off the ground, driving your sword through him as he faced away from you. Karlach hit him with a reckless attack and the doctor dropped to the ground, finally dead. The hall was quiet except for everyone’s heavy breaths. 

You smiled at Karlach, impressed with yourself. The smile quickly faltered as you looked down and saw one of the nurses blades in between the metal plates of your armor. Karlach immediately turned and struck down the dying nurse. Shadowheart turned you quickly and pulled the knife out. You screamed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the theater. She spoke a healing spell over you, but her brow drew up in confusion.

“It’s not working.” She whispered.

“The fuck do you mean it’s not working? Fix it!” You yelled. You could feel the blood seeping through the different parts of your armor. Down your stomach, over your thighs…

“I’m trying!” She yelled back, rattling off another spell.

Karlach popped open a potion of healing, she grabbed your face and tilted your head back forcing the bottle to your lips. It tasted like wine; you could feel it envelop your body. As if it were coursing through you seeking out pain. You felt it stitch your wound together sloppily. You cried in pain as it felt like fire putting you back together. You lifted your armor, the wound was partially healed but that would have to do until you got back to camp. 

Karlach and Shadowheart asked if you were ok, sympathetic as they both know battle is new to you. Battle wounds are common but you never forget your first. 

“Your first battle scar! Congrats soldier.” Karlach said, trying to lighten the mood.

You blubbered out a chuckle, readjusting your armor. 

“I’m sorry we were here to see Raphael, yes?” Astarion said walking out to the graveyard without the rest of you. 

You sighed and began walking, doing your best not to grimace. 

———————-

Everyone listened intently to Raphael. He told Astarion everything you already knew. You had zoned out a bit, hand ghosting over your wound every few minutes. 

“And you…” Raphael said in a sultry tone, looking you up and down like a meal.

You closed your eyes desperately wanting to disappear. Of course the devil would know you weren’t of their world.

“Different aren’t you?” He said grabbing your hand, a swift prick to one of your fingers had you snatching your hand back. Raphael dipped the nail into his mouth, swirling your blood on his tongue. 

“Mmmm, very different. You’re not from here are you? Strange that you ended up with this lot. You’re far more valuable elsewhere. Have you told your new friends about you? What do they really know and what do you hide?” Raphael smiled as he looked at the others.

They all had their eyes on you. Leave it to the devil to make it sound like you were trying to infiltrate their party.

“Stop.” You whispered at him, the tone of your voice begging him.

“No matter. I’ll see you in time, pet.” Raphael gave you a final smile before snapping his fingers and disappearing into a puff of black smoke. 

“And you lot thought I was just being mean. If the devil says they can’t be trusted, what more is to be said?” Astarion asked aloud. 

You winced again as your wound stung against the armor. Karlach moved towards you. She grabbed your arm gently, looking at the new red spreading through the cloth under your armor. 

“We need to get back.” Her voice was devoid of emotion, flat and unwavering.

Everyone silently went through the portal back to camp.

————————

Gale patched up your wound so you could finally walk around comfortably. Happy to have the armor off of you, you walked to the campfire and began prepping dinner. Everyone else had gone to the stream to bathe or had retreated into their respective tents. You could tell that tonight may very well be the night you have to tell them all your secret. Why not soften the blow with some food? 

You made them Baldurian mash since it was all you could think of given your limited ingredients. You set up bowls and spoons and different bottles of liquor for everyone. Just in time, you saw them all trudging up the hill in their night clothes. Everyone looked at you with doubt and caution. 

Great. 

Everyone smelled the food and silently made their way to the bonfire before dishing themselves their food and drinks. Before anyone could get a bite down Astarion yelled. 

“Wait!” He jogged over to the fire.

“Are you sure we should be eating the food of someone who Raphael just told us was hiding things that seem to be of great importance?” He eyed the food and then you. 

You scoffed thinking he was joking, and yet nobody took a bite. 

You looked around, none of your companions meeting your eyes. 

“I may have secrets but I don’t mean any of you harm…. You all are the closest thing I have to friends… I’d never hurt any of you.” You said, voice small but strong. 

Astarion laughed, “Sounds like something somebody would say who is trying to kill us. Why else would you make all this?” 

That’s it, you’ve had enough of fangs and his attitude towards you. You stood and took a large bite of the mash before taking a swig out of every open alcohol bottle. 

“Proof enough for ya?” You asked, shoving past him. “I made all this because I wanted to be helpful. I want to be helpful because you all are my friends. I trust all of you even if you don’t trust me. So how about it fangs? Am I ok to stay or do you have anything else you wanna throw at me?” 

Astarion could see the anger in your face. “Let’s just hope your culinary skills are better than your battle skills.” He said walking past you, shoving your shoulder with his. 

Astarion expected the sniffle he heard from you.

“Astarion?” You asked. 

“What?” He tutted, turning to face you.

What he didn’t expect was the punch that landed square in his face.

“Shit!” You immediately recoiled your hand, already feeling the bruising on your knuckles. You shook your hand out before saying your final piece,

“I have secrets it’s true. And I am happy to tell them to you as soon as I figure out how. But I don’t want to hurt any of you…”

“Excuse me?” Astarion said as he held his bleeding nose.

“Zip it! You have been nothing but spiteful towards me since I got here. I don’t know what your damage is with me but we need each other like it or not. We all need each other. I will fight for you all just as you fight for me. Whatever side you’re on, is the side I’m on.” You finished. Everyone looked at you with wide eyes, occasionally glancing at Astarion and his busted face. 

Karlach stood and marched herself over to you. If this was the end for you at least it was Karlach taking you out, it’ll be a quick death. She held out her hand and you apprehensively took it. 

“Who amongst us doesn’t have a secret or two? I trust them and their intentions after seeing them outside the camp today. Y/N, you have my support and my trust.” Karlach said. 

You couldn’t help but tear up and engulf her in a hug. Thank god she had already had her tune up or it would have been a very short, scorching hug. She only faltered for a moment before hugging you back. 

“Enough with the doom and gloom Astarion. Please come eat, it smelled heavenly.” Karlach asked, walking back to her bowl and taking a bite. This seemingly put everyone at ease, everyone starting to eat and drink. Everyone sent you soft smiles or nods of approval as if to finally say “welcome, you’re here to stay.”

Astarion picked up his pride and went to hunt. He was so sure he could turn them against you enough to at least abandon you. Why did you have to be so damn sweet and honest with everyone? He knew he deserved that punch but it didn’t make him want you any less. 

You grabbed a bottle of Ithbank before heading to your tent for the night. 

————————

You awoke hours later. The camp was quiet except for a groan you heard. You sat up, it sounded like it was coming from the stream. Getting up you wore nothing but your large untied shirt and underwear. You crept over to the hillside. You saw Astarion with his shirt off splashing water onto his shoulder. The night was dark but you could see his hand was covered in blood. Punched or not, you wanted to help him. You slunk down the hill, thankful the riverbed rocks were smooth under your feet. 

“May I?” You said.

“Gods! Don’t do that!” He winced. “I don’t want your help.” 

“But you need it, you stubborn jackass.” You said, grabbing his hand and marching him back to your tent. You sat him on your bedroll before grabbing a cloth and pouring some water from your canteen on it. You gently pressed it to the slash on his shoulder. 

“Care to tell me what happened?” You asked.

“No.” He said bluntly.

“Looking to get punched again?” You said, quirking an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes as he tried to stifle the hiss he had to let out from the pain. 

“We could be friends ya know. If you weren’t out to get me for some unknown reason.” You said with a tinge of sadness to your voice. 

“And why would I want to be your friend?” He asked.

“I’m smart, funny, attractive….” You smiled as you listed. 

He let out a chuckle, “Might want to add vain to the list.” 

“Seriously though, why don’t you like me?” You asked, setting the cloth aside and going for some bandages you had in your camp pack. 

“I don’t trust you there’s a difference.” He said, looking at the ground.

“You’re a deeply mistrusting person and I respect that, but everyone deserves a chance. Have I done anything to make you mistrust me?” You finally looked into his crimson eyes. They were beautiful. Shiny like rubies and a deep crimson like blood. 

“You punched me in the face.” He said, meeting your gaze. 

“You deserved to be punched in the face.” You said, starting to wrap the gauze around his torso and shoulder. 

“Perhaps.” He conceded. 

You noticed a small cut to his cheekbone. Raising your hand, you ran your thumb under it. You grabbed the cloth you used to clean his wound and brought it to his cheek, dabbing softly at the dried blood. He caught your wrist in a soft grasp. You looked at each other, neither moving. The air around you felt thick. Thankful for the dim light from the bonfire, you were sure you were blushing unintentionally. Astarion softly pressed a delicate kiss to your wrist. 

“Thank you for helping me, it was very kind.” He sounded so sincere. You smiled and thumbed over his cheek one last time before pulling your hand back to yourself. 

The more you looked at him the more you noticed his sunken eyes, his slim cheeks, the aches that plagued him. 

Hungry

You jumped back a little not expecting to hear voices and feel a wriggle in your head. Astarion’s eyes flitted to yours, “You’re hungry aren’t you?” You asked in a whisper. 

“I didn’t drink as much as I would have hoped to… the bear apparently didn’t like fangs in it.” He said, gesturing to the bandaged gash. 

You pondered it for a moment. On one hand, he had been a massive cunt to you since you arrived and had punched him a few hours ago. On the other hand, he just let you patch him up and even thanked you for it. 

“If you want… you could feed off me? If it would help?” You asked, looking between his eyes and the ground, fingers picking at each other nervously. 

“You would do that for me?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“See? I’m not so bad after all.” You smiled as you pulled your laces at the top of your shirt loose revealing your neck, shoulder, and the top of your chest. 

He gulped and looked at your beautiful skin. He was hungry but he knew he’d have to repay you. He pulled you to him by your waist, planting you in his lap, straddling his hips. You knew what he was doing, what he was thinking.

“Astarion, stop. You don’t have to do anything. You don’t owe me… I’m doing this because I want to help you.” You said, shifting yourself to sit next to him instead of on him. 

He gave you a soft smile, “Apologies. I’m used to giving myself as payment. Old habits die hard I suppose.” 

You nodded, knowing his history and not wanting to trudge up bad memories. You leaned against the tree trunk next to your bed roll, exposing your neck to him. 

Astarion licked his lips subconsciously. His breath against your neck made you shiver. He kissed the junction between your neck and shoulder before sinking his teeth in. It felt like getting an IV needle shoved into your throat. The pain was quick, the feeling of blood being sucked out of you was what felt odd. Warm fluid being sucked out rapidly. He must have been hungry. 

After a minute you gently pushed against his chest. He snapped back to reality, pulling back and resting his head against your shoulder while licking up the little blood that spilled from the punctures. His breath was heavy and so were his eyes.

“That was amazing…” he whispered. 

You sat up a bit, pushing Astarion back. “Glad my blood is acceptable.” You joked, pulling your shirt back on properly and tightening the laces. 

It was beyond acceptable. It was… heavenly. It was beyond anything he had tasted or smelled before. It tasted sweet. Like the richest chocolate. It coated his tongue and he already wished for more. His gaze was glazed over, perfectly happy. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. 

You watched him. He was beautiful, truly. The feeling of arousal that shot through you while he drank made you feel awful. You knew his backstory and you knew he was in no position to do anything sexual. You focused on slowing your heartbeat down in hopes he wouldn’t hear it. 

He gently took your hand before kissing your wrist again, “Thank you. This was a gift, I won’t forget it.” He nodded before getting up and heading back to his tent. “Goodnight.” You heard him say faintly. 

You smiled as you laid down, happy that you two reached a truce. Maybe he needed a bit more care than the others, and you were happy to provide it. You drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a certain pale elf.

Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I hope to hear from you all in the comments or in my DM's. I really wanna try and write a few drabbles for y'all. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :)

[dyaz-stories]

Hey there! Just wanna know, what the heck happened in the JJK manga? Is it already over? Did the characters FINALLY mourn Gojo?! I gave up trying to read the manga after 236, so I just decided to randomly hear from others. But anyways, what happened??

Hey there! BOY AM I HAPPY TO DISCUSS THAT.

(I'm sorry I have so many thoughts and you've given me an excuse to ramble so this is going to be long)

There are two chapters left in the manga, it will end on September 30th. The chapter that just came out, chapter 269, was, however, really bad imo and a terrible use of time considering how little time Gege has left. I get that he had to wrap up quick, but in my personal opinion, it's inexplicable that he'd dedicate a whole chapter to what we just saw.

(More under the cut with spoilers for chapter 269)

Okay, so, the characters spend half the chapter arguing about how they could have done a better job fighting Sukuna, even though at this point, the losses are minimal. Most of the characters who were possibly dead are fine and dandy actually (Yuta, Higuruma, Todo, Kusakabe). Choso is still dead, but he gets a little line about how that's sad (and his death scene was really good and effective, so I'm not that mad about it, even if he's a character I really loved).

It kinda feels like Gege is justifying the way the fight went, which is a bit weird. In story, I think this could make sense if it was fueled by grief and loss and more of a "this person could have been saved! and this person didn't have to die!", but it feels kind of matter of fact tbh, with Maki being pretty much the only one displaying emotions. Even she seems to be arguing about efficiency, not really about saving human lives? Other characters' responses aren't much better. Yuuji in particular looks like he's super numb to everything, which again, yes, that's a trauma response, but it doesn't make for interesting storytelling and it's not going to be explored further, so... what's the point.

Also think that Yuta desecrating Gojo's corpse isn't explored enough. He did something horrifying that turned to not be that useful — going with the manga's message that the end doesn't justify the means — and he seems fine. I guess Maki yelling at him could be explained by the fact that she was strongly against this action, but it's never made explicit, which is a shame. (think it's more implied it's because he endangered himself and she has feelings for him)

The other half of the chapter is spent on a plot point that I don't think had been developed before that, about the new shadow style. This feels like the last arc Gege wanted to have and Sukuna's fight went on for too long so he had to scrap it. The point is essentially that the head of the new shadow style school is trying to become the head of Jujutsu Society as a whole now that the clans have collapsed. There was a binding vow that made it so the head of the school could steal years from people who had learned the style and add it to their lifespan. Anyway, Mei Mei steps in and makes it so the style can become more widely used.

(If you're bored reading that, yeah, so was I)

It's not useless exactly — it definitely goes towards the manga's message of ending the cycle and starting off with a clean slate, so that's a win — but it feels super rushed. It didn't have to be rushed, could have been a decent arc, it just isn't, and again, I don't think that's a great use of pages this late in the story.

Last but not least, Gojo. Gojo gets two mentions in this chapter.

The second one is in passing, when Hakari defends Yuta's usefulness.

And the first one, oooh boy the first one,

is about how this was all Gojo's fault from the get-go anyway 😃

And again, some nuance here. Kusakabe specifically says that the kids have nothing to apologize for — which I agree with. His point is that it was Gojo's responsibility to kill Yuuji. Essentially, the idea is that he was the adult, and in not doing that, he's responsible for the kids having to live with all the consequences of his actions.

Which aaaaah I'm losing it here! Yuuji was a victim of Kenjaku's machinations from the get-go, so would it have been right to kill him? Isn't this just a trolley problem — kill Yuuji and save innocent people's lives? But then, Yuuji, Sukuna and Kenjaku's actions led to the end of jujutsu society as we know it, more or less directly, which could lead to a better future, so was he actually right, in a purely consequentialist approach?

I don't think any of that is particularly interesting to discuss at this point tbh. I feel like that had already been dealt with. I'm just deeply confused as to why we're dealing with this when there were three chapters left before this one instead of focusing on closing the curtain on beloved characters, Gojo in particular.

Anyway! Bad chapter imo. Boring. Bad use of the characters and their relationships with one another. Really questionable use of time. Gojo was not mourned and in fact it's almost like he's never existed or never mattered to anyone. No Shoko here, not a hint of sadness from Yuta either, which I had hoped for.

I'm still looking forward to the last two chapters, and I hope they'll leave more room for the characters to, you know, have feelings.

[judasgot-it]

dazai seems to go after women who don’t fall for him easily; what if you did a reader who didn’t really care or be affected by his romantic advances?

oooooo rip Dazai would 100% go CRAZY bro. I don't do yandere but lowkey Dazai would be a bit of a yandere in this case...

Scenario: Dazai getting rejected by reader constantly (Trigger warnings for Dazai's alcoholism and addiction, also for other depression mentions)

The known flirt was at it again.

You knew his name - he insisted on making you ring up his order every time he came to your store every day. It was innocent enough really. You didn't even notice it, since he was so easy to be drawn into a conversation with, and you wouldn't lie when he asked if you thought he was cute.

He was, especially compared to some of the older men you've seen come in, those who would buy cigarettes and alcohol at odd hours of the night. A real shame that he was just as bad as them once you saw him come by time and time again.

The man would buy the cheapest alcohol and some of the cheapest foods, occasionally splurging on some 'nice' sweets - only if he was with seemingly young coworkers of his. At least he was nice in that aspect, not forcing children to pay for themselves whenever he was out shopping for his assumedly drunken nights.

A part of you wished that you could feel attracted to him. He was really charming when he wanted to be.

But his shopping habits disturbed you.

What man, in his early 20s and living assumedly alone, needed to buy so many different medications? You weren't one to judge, but he was just extremely strange.

He might not have realized it either, but you worked day and night shifts at that store - you saw him when he was at his worst buying pre-packed sushi, and you've never seen a man appear more...haggard.

So maybe it was hard to find him attractive when he was put together for work the next day. He might have looked nice, smelling of a strange cologne, but you could never get the picture of him in his slacks, with sweat stains on his shirt, tearing open his pre-packaged sushi like a rabid anime out of the mental movie you held.

He was like the babadook.

It disturbed you deeply.

"Well, good morning my belladonna! Tell me, do you think this wouldn't make just a lovely hour to feel our entangled hands grow cold together? Watching the rising sun fall upon our corpses?"

More than that, somehow.

How did he ever lose his virginity when he flirted like that? You wished you could ask him that one day.

"Let me ring you up, Dazai."

Your boss would kill you if she ever learned that you were rude to customers. Unfortunately, Dazai was just another customer you would have to put up with. His words would simply have to roll off of you.

"You know Ms. y/n, I really wish we could see each other more often, without a counter between us. I know this really great place that serves excellent coffee."

"Better than what you bought?"

Dazai laughed that comment off.

"Oh, you're funny Y/n. They have a little secret about how they keep their coffee so fresh, I'm quite close with the owners you know?"

You just shook your head, placing his items in a bag. He had bought bulk coffee grains and...canned crab? You didn't want to know why he ate that.

"Your total is 9.35, congrats. Cash or card?"

Dazai took his careful time taking out his wallet, leaning onto the counter, and taking up as much of your personal space as he could. He took out his card and not so subtly looked at you as he inserted it into the card reader.

"Y/n, you should really think about my offer. It would be quite sweet, don't you think?"

"Coffee or the suicide?"

Dazai laughed again - his weird wet laugh, the one that made you feel like you were talking with some sort of deranged serial killer. He gave off the vibe. There was something he was hiding in his smile.

His bandages hid something, which you frankly didn't want to know more about.

"Whichever works, I like how your misery feels. It makes me feel less alone in my own."

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. They were empty, dark holes that stared right into you, leaving you exposed. His smile was vacant as well, watching with interest as you absorbed whatever he was. There were many words you wished you could say, but your work cameras were watching this transaction carefully.

"That's nice. I hope you have a good day."

You turned away from him, signaling that the transaction was over.

There was no one else in the store but the two of you, not even the sunlight.

Just you, him, and the silence.

Dazai gleefully reached over, taking his bag into his arms and pressing his body into the counter, leaning his face as close to yours as he could. You could feel his laughs against the low collar of your shirt - his dark eyes as they slowly traced up your form, which still looked right through your body.

He was invading through something deeper, and you wished you could put up some sort of barrier. Crossing your arms over your body did little to ease you as you tried to play him off, trying to give him as little of a reaction as he wanted.

Dazai wasn't a pervert, he wasn't a creep - he was something else.

He wanted something else from you.

It had you on edge. You didn't even know how to stop him from eating that part of you, swallowing you into whatever abyss he was.

That man was human, but every time he came close he made you want to run.

But despite being so close to you, he didn't say anything. No leering comments, no threats.

You heard him leave, which was when you finally had the courage to look at where he last stood.

He didn't even leave anything in his wake.

Nothing to truly disturb you, at the very least.

Just a daisy, which you were sure he had kept in his pocket this entire time.

He was odd like that. The guy always tried to keep his moments elaborate, so he would stick in your head for days.

Unfortunately, it worked. No matter how much you tried to ignore him.

I have no idea if this is actually the prompt haha but I like the idea of Dazai not being like a full-on yandere even though that's kinda canon? But him being like a real freak. Also oml thank you for being so patient cause this was in my ask box forever! and I still have more!

[sainamoonshine]

Okay so I saw that @foxy-alien made art of a TLT house swap AU and it started me thinking about how I’d do a similar AU… I did that instead of sleeping last night btw.

So here’s what I have so far:

Ninth House: Ianthe, Corona and Babs. Once upon a time a woman and a baby fell on their planet. When they saw the woman’s red hair they thought “ugh what Third House bullshit is this” and while they kept the corpse, they sent the baby back. We don’t want this keep your trash. They have their own drama to deal with anyway; the tomb needs its keeper to be a necromancer. Corona, while officially the heir and Reverent Daughter, is not one. Ianthe and her started hiding her lack of talent before their parents explained the whole “unbroken chain of the tomb keeper’s necromantic bloodline” thing. So long as Ianthe is around, the twins expect that everything is still fine. Still, their house hovers on the edge of breaking a promise of ten thousand years once their parents die and Corona inherits the duties of the tomb… unless they find a way to make Corona a necromancer, either by turning her into a lyctor, by making Ianthe a lyctor and then Ianthe makes her necromantic (?), or they just straight up ask Jod for a boon.

Eight House: Abigail and Magnus. Everyone is surprised when they meet them, as they do not meet the traditional pattern of their house; especially when you know the fact that Abigail’s cavalier was supposed to be a cousin but was replaced by Magnus when he married Abigail — their blood type was, luckily (or unluckily?) compatible. Like, who the fuck would want to be an Eight House cavalier??? (Magnus would. He think going into the river is exciting. He also trusts his wife.) It’s usually only when Abigail starts actually doing necromancy that people remember she’s scary AF. Through her interest in ghosts, she has developed her own custom safeguards against Magnus getting possessed when she siphons him… or if he does get possessed, she is a quick and extremely brutal exorcist.

Seventh House: Palamedes and Camilla. Pal decided on his medicine focus due to his house’s propensity for weird necromantic cancer. He firmly believes that if he can just find a way to either stabilize or treat it, the inhabitants of the seventh house will live more comfortable lives. He is considered something of an heretic due to this, but house leadership is willing to ‘let him cook’ -> they’ll wait to see if a necromancer with a stable cancer is still powerful before they decide whether to censure his research or not.

Sixth House: Jeannemary and Isaac. They’re still young, but very good at getting into places they’re not supposed to be, particularly by breaking wards and then rebuilding them better. Both of them keep trying to apply into the cohort but the scholars of the Sixth see Isaac’s skills with wards and want him to pursue academia instead. When the summons to Canaan House came the council all looked at each other, remembered they still had to appoint a new master warden after the last one passed, figured that nobody wanted to abandon their current study/experiments to go participate to what would be sure to be a tedious dick measuring contest with the other house heirs, and decided to invoke an obscure emergency clause in a law book somewhere in order to appoint Isaac to the title. He and Jeannemary really were the only ones who actually wanted to go to Canaan.

Fifth House: Dulcinea and Protesilaus. It is a shame that her health is so poor, because she would otherwise have become a hell of an ruler. While she has an ease with history and academia, her true skill is diplomacy. Dulcinea can get a very accurate read on most people, and she knows how to use their own psychology against them to make them agree to her ideas. She looks nice and fragile, but she is cunning. Meanwhile, Protesilaus is surprisingly good at paperwork for a guy who looks like he eats skulls for breakfast.

Fourth House: Judith and Martha. This AU version of them is less cocksure, but just as proficient at gathering information, profiling people, and writing down ample notes. Their rank in the cohort is lower than in canon, and they often get assigned to the tasks nobody else wants. Such as: overseeing security on ships bringing prisoners to the Ninth House prison installation… and this is how Judith and Corona met.

Third House: Harrow and Gideon. Once upon a time, the Ninth House sent them an orphan they claimed was theirs. The King and Queen didn’t pay the mystery much mind and stuck the baby in an orphanage. They had their own troubles to deal with: the royal family had not been able to produce a necromantic heir yet, and the vassal families were closing in. They figured that they couldn’t let a lesser branch of the family inherit the Third; it had never been done, would discredit them in the eyes of the other Houses, and would cause political instability. So in order to ensure the necromantic potential of their latest vat baby experiment, the King and Queen sacrificed the children in one of the lesser orphanages. They claimed that an hull breach in the space station caused the poisonous air of the planet’s upper atmosphere to get inside the ventilation system… except there was one survivor. The King and Queen were weirded out by that seemingly unkillable toddler but public opinion was heavily positive towards the ‘miracle survivor’. Not to mention having at least one person survive the incident helps make the ‘it was an accident’ excuse sound more credible. So the King and Queen brought the child to the palace and decided to do some PR by giving her a place to live and an education, and eventually made her the Cavalier of their (powerful) new daughter.

Second House: Silas and Column. Duty-bound, fanatic, no fun allowed Silas is a bit young for military service, but that doesn’t stop him from climbing the ranks. Column is still used as a battery, even in this AU, except his role is to start killing people to produce the initial necromantic boom to give Silas something to work with when they deploy to new battlefields. He hates doing this btw.

[shinynewboots]

Sweet Nothings: An Alastor Story (18+)

Summary: Alastor loved his wife. His beautiful, angelic wife with the perfectly imperfect chip in her front tooth. His poor wife, who whispered sweet nothings into his ear as he killed a man.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: Angst, assault, implied sexual assault, murder, blood, gore, mutilation, death, corpses, hallucinations, decomposition, Alastor before Hell

AN: Definitely one of the darkest things I've ever written. I hope you all enjoy it!

AO3

Alastor entered the house, discarding his shoes as he always did lest his wife playfully scold him about the dirt and mud he was liable to track into the foyer. She was right, of course, as Louisiana found itself stuck into the crevices and empty spaces of his shoes, skin, and soul. His mother used to scold him for the same thing (never his father however, and so she spent most of her days sweeping the house free of the bayou rather than face his wrath). 

He dutifully went to the kitchen and began to prepare them a pot of coffee to wind down and discuss their days over. The kitchen was tidy, as his wife preferred it that way. 

“What if we have guests, Alastor? I can’t have them thinkin’ we’re livin’ in a pig stye.” She replied whenever he felt she was working too hard on the housework and expressed as much to her. They never did have guests, but he appreciated the sentiment 

He grabbed the two mugs of coffee, his black and hers a creamy tan color (5 sugars and 2 dashes of cream). She preferred the sweeter things in life. He had no idea why she had chosen to marry him, as his soul was as bitter as the black liquid he held. 

“Here you are, darlin’,” He said, dropping the ‘g’ like a sticky southern night as he set the coffee beside her chair. She sat quietly, watching the fireplace. The radio that sat on the side table played gentle static. 

“How was your day, cher ?” He asked, dropping in the chair beside her and facing the fireplace. He looked over at her and took in the delicate softness of her face, the gentle lines that crinkled when she smiled at him. Her wispy blonde hair glowed against the fire and it took everything in him not to brush it behind her ear just as an excuse to touch her. 

She didn’t answer him. She rarely did when they were alone anymore. Not that this bothered Alastor, he could talk enough to appease the both of them. She preferred it that way anyway, listening to him talk. She was always more reserved, a bit of a wallflower. 

“Well, the show went well, darlin’, as always. Though I know you listened to it. I did play a new song by that Ellington fellow.” Alastor said, taking a sip of the bitter liquid. “ Mood Indigo. A tad somber, but I found I quite liked the mystery of it.”

She didn’t respond, but he could tell by her expression towards the fireplace that she agreed with his assessment. 

“I did also run into Mimzy, oh don’t give me that look,” He jested as he thought he saw her expression drop. “You know she adores you. She asked why she hadn’t seen us at the club in a while.”

Another sip. “Oh course, I gave her your condolences and alluded to your health. I hope you don’t mind darlin’.”

Of course, she didn’t mind. She would be up in arms if she had. 

Alastor smiled at her, a bright brilliant smile, more genuine than the one he wore around town. He reached across the table and grabbed her hand, his large hand completely covering her small, bony one. 

“I do so enjoy our evenings together, darlin’.”

His enchanting wife had been eager to accompany him on his unsavory nighttime activities. She always had an eye for finding his newest victim. Her preferred targets of choice were men who harassed women on the street. Men who got a little too handsy with a young lady who was too far deep into the giggle water. Men who found pleasure and little shame in antagonizing the women of New Orleans. 

Alastor found he agreed with his wife’s choices. Even if she hadn’t egged him on, he would have come to the same conclusion of victim himself. He could still remember the day he had saved her from being a victim of an unsavory character himself. 

He had heard her call out from a New Orleans sidestreet and by the grace of some divine being, he had managed to find her with a man’s hand around her throat and his hands under her dress so far that he could see her cotton slip. She had screamed and struggled against the assailant, her cherubic face contorted into terror. 

The noises, the high-pitched scream she made as the man attempted to violate her in the most unimaginable way would visit Alastor in his sleep. It was the worst noise he had ever heard in his life and they haunted him. The fact that he was almost too late to save his beautiful mourning dove haunted him (in an even worse way than the way his mother enduring his father’s abuse stuck with him deep in his bones).

She had been radio silent since the assault, except when she went with him on the prowl for their latest victim. Alastor relished these moments when his angel of a wife would whisper her sweet nothings in his ear, goading him into murdering these dregs of society. 

“Slit his throat, my love,” She whispered, her breath sweet like muscadine wine as she stared at Alastor with the reverence reserved for a saint. “I want to watch’m bleed.”

And what could Alastor do but oblige when his wife asked him so sweetly, her doe brown eyes afire with blood lust. 

“Please,” The pathetic man begged in front of him. Alastor stared down at him, his smile wide and maniacal. How he loved when they begged for their worthless lives. She never said as much, but he knew his wife loved it as well. “Please don’t kill me.”

The man in front of him had followed a girl, no older than 17, as she walked down the street in the moonlight, out of the safety of the street lights. The man had approached her, leering at her as he pulled the girl closer to him, his hand cupping her breast as she cried fat tears and let out panted breaths.

“A perfect victim,” His wife had said as she pointed out the man. And that was all it took. 

“You’ll have to beg better than that,” Alastor laughed, his knife teasing at the man’s throat. Alastor had already cut at the man’s thighs, striking him down to save the poor girl. Blood seeped through the man’s trousers, and he could swear he could smell piss as well. 

“Please, please sir, let me go,” The man cried. 

“Alastor, please,” His wife asked. And like a good husband, he did as he was told, and slid the knife across the man’s throat. Blood poured from the man’s neck as he let out a distraught scream and tried to fight against Alastor who moved to stand before him like the devil himself. 

The man struggled, crawling towards Alastor while he held at his slit throat. His efforts were in vain as she crumpled to the ground, his eyes turning glassy as he stared into the New Orleans night sky. 

“Stand back darlin’, wouldn’t want to dirty that pretty white dress,” Alastor said, moving towards the man to gather the body and take him to their dumping grounds. His wife smiled sweetly and moved so that the blood pooling in the alley wouldn’t dirty her. 

Alastor’s brown suit was utterly stained, but his wife had been good about teaching him how to get out the best of stains. She would accompany him on his kills but never clean his clothes of their evidence.

“Your mess,” She would say with a teasing shrug. 

Alastor gathered the body as his wife stood in the shadows and the two made their descent into the bayou to gut and dispose of their latest victim. 

Like the skilled precision of an untrained surgeon, Alastor would lay the victim in the mud of the bayou and begin extracting the organs. He had always been fascinated by anatomy as a child, and perhaps if his family had enough money he would have gone on and become a surgeon. But as it were, he was a radio host and so he would have to make do with the diagrams he learned from in the anatomy books. 

“And what’s that, my love,” His wife would ask, bending down while he worked. The victim’s abdomen had flayed open (with the use of a midline vertical incision from the xiphoid process to the pubic bone). Alastor had gone to work, taking stock of the organs at his disposal. He had learned that he typically had about 2 hours before the body began to stiffen, so he would make work as quickly as he could. 

“That, mon cher, is the liver,” He said, pulling the large organ from the abdominal cavity. “It’s the largest solid organ in the body.”

“Well now, you’re just showing off.” She said, laughing with her mouth open wide enough so that he could see the small chip in her front tooth that he loved so much. She had always been self-conscious of it, and would rarely smile with her teeth out as a result. But he loved that endearing imperfection that added character to her features.

Blood coated his arms, his legs, and his abdomen as he laughed along with his wife. Blood had spattered on his face, drying with the air and beginning to flake. 

He and his wife would continue their morbid trivia, her asking about a particular body part and he answering until the man had been completely gutted and buried beneath the bayou.  

The truth of the matter was that he did not save his wife that night.

No. 

He had found her body splayed out for all of New Orleans to see in an alley when she had been on her way home from the butcher while buying ingredients for dinner. 

Her doe brown eyes looked up at his with no thought, no emotion. Glassy and dead. Her throat held angry purple bruises as he realized she had been choked to death by an unknown bastard who deserved the eternity of hellfire. 

The beautiful white dress she had worn was filthy with blood and dirt. She would have hated being found in such a state. Embarrassed. Full of shame.

And the blood. The warm, copious amount of blood that had poured down her legs told him everything he needed to know about what had transpired. And so he had gathered his beautiful wife in his arms and cradled her close. 

His heart was broken when his mother died. His heart ceased beating as he held his precious wife. His large tears began to coat her face as he sobbed against her body. Blood coated her mouth, trailing down to her chin and dripping on the beautiful white dress. 

He leaned down and kissed her bloodied masterpiece of a mouth, and felt her taste upon his tongue for the last time. The iron and copper taste filled his senses as he tasted the last evidence he had of her being alive at one point in time. 

The last tears fell from his cheeks before he wiped his eyes and cleaned the blood from her mouth. He shrugged off his overcoat and used it to cover her body, gathering her in his arms to take her home. She would want to be at home.

With her covered and his arms, it was as though she were asleep. 

Of course she was asleep. 

He had carried her in such a way many times when she had fallen asleep in front of her beloved fireplace. This was no different. 

He had gotten her home with none the wiser and ran the tub. He knew she hated being dirty and so he would remedy the situation. 

“My day was rather subpar, darlin’. You know Night & Day by Fred Astaire has been one of the most requested songs even this year, and I must confess I tire of it, my darling.” He said as he scrubbed the blood and dirt from her body. Her head had fallen back against the head of the tub, as though she lay in relaxation while being pampered. 

He took great care to clean under her fingernails, scrubbing until the blood was gone. Bruises dotted the inside of her thigh in the shape of handprints. He chose not to see that. He cleaned the dried blood from her wispy blonde hair, already fretting about the styling that would need to be done once she was out of the tub. 

Perhaps she could fix it later. 

He continued to tell her about his day as she gently cleaned her. The water ran a rusty color and the dirt collected at the bottom. He would have to scrub that out once he was done. She despised a dirty tub. 

He pulled her from the tub and dried her off. Her body was already beginning to stiffen and so he had to work fast. He grabbed one of his favorite dresses of hers from the closet, a beautiful red number that paired beautifully with the rouge and red lipstick she wore. 

He set to work covering her body with her undergarments, the brassiere covering her perfect pale breasts, and the bloomers covering her unmentionables. He had even been proud of his attention to detail as he slid the stocking and garter up her legs. He threw the slip over her before finally finishing the outfit with the red dress and red heels to match. 

He tried his best to apply the rouge and lipstick as he had seen her do a thousand times. He was somewhat proud of himself, though he knew she could fix any imperfections.

He sat her in her chair in front of the fireplace in the family room. She loved to relax in front of the fire when he came home from work and ask him about his day. 

She would be happy there. Content. 

Alastor never did know who had broken and murdered his perfect wife. However, the week after finding his wife, he came across his first victim, a piece of shit man harassing a woman on the street. And his wife had appeared for the first time and begun to whisper her sweet nothings in his ear. 

“Maybe this was him, my love,” She said, her words tickling his soul. 

And he would kill every man in New Orleans if it meant he avenged his beautiful wife.  If it meant he could see her one more time. 

On the night Alastor died, he felt more at peace than he had felt in months. 

He stood in the dark of the bayou, shoveling to make a hole deep enough for his next victim. His beautiful wife stood to the side, watching him with a peaceful smile.  He had killed fourteen men since the death of his wife. 

The news outlets had started catching wind of the disappearances, especially when Alastor became particularly sloppy with one fellow and had buried him too shallow.

The Bayou Butcher, they called him. 

The notion caused his wife to tease him in his hallucinations, and laugh at the moniker. He could only grin at the sound of her laughter. Her voice had started to fade, become distorted like the lost signal on a radio broadcast.

His memory of her voice had begun to fade, and he found himself growing more brutal in his kills just to hear that twinkling sound once more. She always talked to him more the bloodier he got. But the sound of her voice still began to fade. 

He had been rather surprised when he was shot in the head. The gunshot rang out through the trees, quickly followed by the sound of hunting dogs. 

Alastor’s eyes widened as blood began to drip into his eyelashes, distorting his vision. But he could still see her. His beloved wife who had driven him to madness.

“Alastor,” She whispered, her voice fading and her small smile turning into a frown.

“My love,” He tried to say but the words wouldn’t come out. His vision grew black and he could no longer see the ghost of his beautiful wife.

“Goodbye, Alastor.” The wind whispered as he fell into the half-dug grave of his last victim. 

The Bayou Butcher had a total of fifteen victims, according to the newspaper. Once the police had found the identity of the despicable man, they raided the house and found the horrible sight of his last victim, his wife. 

The corpse sat in front of the fireplace, the decomposition of her body pooling around her as she rotted into the chair. Her body was dry, almost mummified as she was positioned in such a way that it looked as though she were simply staring towards the fireplace.

Her eye sockets, the eyes long gone, stared forward as though to gaze at the wedding photo of her and her husband, Alastor.  In the photo, Alastor stood brightly at the camera, his grin wider and more genuine than any could ever remember on the man. And to his right stood his beautiful wife whispering sweet nothings into his ear. 

[thedorkurge]

I wish you would write a fic that is purely durgetash being soft with one another- Their constant psychosexual power play and violence is fun, but I would love to see your take on how they would be gentle with one another. Durge comes to Gortash after a long night of killing, Gortash is stressed with the minutia of death cult office politics, and if that Dragonborn has to drag him kicking and screaming to bed so they can both just rest for a minute, then so be it. It’ll be worth it.

I'm definitely up for the challenge! Thank you for asking<3

It will be below the cut, or you can read it on Ao3

Durge wasn’t supposed to be here, not really. But what he was supposed to do had recently been partially replaced with far more dangerous thoughts of what he wanted to do.

And it was all because of Bane’s chosen.

Though they had no meeting tonight, no intention of furthering their plan for their masters, he still found himself crawling through Enver’s window. The sitting room where he would host his more intimate meetings was empty, meaning that he could only be upstairs, burning the midnight oil at his desk. 

Durge crept through the night, silent and unseen, in spite of his bright scales and tall stature. 

As predicted, Enver was still working. He had clearly been at it for a while, his inkpot already replaced once and his desk piled with papers. Their presence was spread fairly thin, covering both Moonrise and Baldur’s Gate, so copious amounts of correspondence was needed to keep their forces in check.

But even a mind as sharp as Enver’s will dull if it isn’t treated with care. And that would be a damn shame. The man was a fine dagger, one that could slice many throats before it wore out.

One that felt right in Durge’s hands.

He allowed himself that thought for tonight. He had butchered his way through the city today, providing his father with ample sacrifice. And Gortash had yet to notice him, so for now any softness on his face would remain his own.

The fact that he’d been sitting on the windowsill without any acknowledgement for a few minutes was more concerning than anything, revealing just how tired the Lord really was. As did the bags under his bloodshot eyes and the ink that stained his hands. Durge had no doubt that every letter was still perfect, carefully planned and put to paper, but while his work never suffered, his body did.

He was only human. A fact that Durge was all too aware of, for both good and bad. On one hand it intrigued him, the softness of his skin, the hair that lined his body, the way his flesh would depress softly under Durge’s touch in a way that scales and corpses didn’t. 

On the other, the man was fragile. He would hate that description, but it was true. Durge knew all too well how easily humans died, how little it took to break them. And sleep deprivation was one of the cruelest methods he knew.

He finally allowed his feet to touch the ground, fully entering the room and announcing his presence.

Gortash looked up, alarmed, if a bit too slow to react. When he saw that there was no threat, he turned back to his work.

Durge was almost a bit offended by that. But part of him didn’t really mind. It was almost refreshing to not be greeted with fear.

“I don’t recall us having a meeting tonight.”

“We don’t.”

When Enver finally looked back up at him with a raised brow, his stern face was ruined by the way his eyes squinted against the light. 

“Then to what do I owe this visit?” He finally placed the pen down carefully, clearly giving up on getting anything done with another distraction added to the pile.

“How long has it been since you slept?”

Enver seemed genuinely taken aback by what should have been an obvious question. “That hardly matters. Politics do not wait for you to sleep. That is simply an opportunity for your detractors to undermine you.”

“Considering that I’ve been killing your detractors, that hardly seems like a valid excuse.”

“I wasn’t aware that I needed an excuse.”

“I suppose you don’t.” The dragonborn circled the table, putting out the oil lamp that illuminated the paperwork. “But you do need sleep.”

Enver’s protests died in his chest as Durge pressed a hand to his cheek in a surprisingly gentle touch. He leaned into it slightly, clearly just realizing how tired his neck muscles were.

Durge’s voice was quiet, dampened to match the calm that had settled over the room. “Don’t torture yourself, Enver. That’s my job.”

The Lord managed a tired laugh, reaching up to hook a heavy hand around Durge’s. It was warm. Enver always was, the human’s temperature running significantly higher than his own. As Enver repositioned his head slightly to push his forehead against the colder hand, Durge realized that he was probably too warm. 

He helped him out of the nice, but uncomfortable, clothes gently, secretly hoping that Enver wouldn’t mistake his actions as sexual advances. If Enver was to initiate something and Durge turned him down, Bhaal wouldn’t approve. Sex and murder were the two things he was never supposed to turn down, even from a banite. Fortunately, Gortash seemed to have other things on his mind, allowing this moment of intimacy without the heavy judgemental gaze of their gods weighing on them.

Before they could lay down, Enver pulled him into a lazy kiss. It was tired, it was sloppy, it wasn’t meant to stoke passions or assert dominance. It was simply because they wanted to.

With that, he pulled the lord into bed, gently folding arms that were meant to kill around fragile human bones. Enver held him close in turn, practically unconscious by the time he hit the bed. With a wave of his hand Durge extinguished the last light, allowing the darkness to hide them from the eyes of the world as he pressed his lips against the top of Enver’s head.

[verdemoun]

How does it go when John and Javier see each other again? Obviously they have their interaction in rdr1 but they don’t talk about how bad things got in the last chapter of rdr2 and I’m curious if either one of them held any bitter feelings and also if John and/ot Arthur noticed how Javier pointed his gun at the sky, refusing to shoot either one of them?

Raaaaaah john and javier in timewarpppp

important context: i headcanon this interaction in rdr2 was actually a response to john asking javier to leave the gang with him, abigail and jack in a 'we had a thing that can't be a thing anymore because i do love my wife and my son and am entirely devoted to keeping them safe but i do still Care about you and don't want to lose you' and javier's response was like 'oh great so i'll be the little mexican peasant turned farmhand waiting for the big tough landowner to get bored of his wife and come fuck me?'

^^ in saying this javier didn't snitch to dutch or micah that john very much had a plan in place to leave because he was still loyal to john too. it was a great act of love to feel like he was betraying dutch but letting john have that chance even though he still felt like john was betraying the gang too

look i love me some toxic yaoi i'm the problem it's me

ALSO in timewarp canon, John did kill Javier and hand his corpse over to the bureau instead of taking Javier in alive. it was a mercy killing in a sense because he did capture Javier alive but he knew Javier too well and did still love him. he didn't want him going through whatever torture they had planned and he knew Javier was afraid as much as he hid it behind taunts and insults.

all of them lived so many lives between 1899 and 1911. javier timewarped, saw the gang and broke down crying like tears of relief to see them but also just the guilt and shame wanting to admit they were right dutch abandoned him the second the pinkertons turned up and he should have trusted arthur and he was a fool not to see through dutch and for arthur it's more of a 'oh shit that's right you were still in beaver hollow too'

it's not something that haunts arthur?? at some point he stopped thinking about that moment it's not a core memory for arthur. he remembers susan being killed, dutch still not believing micah was the rat, the relief of realizing john was still alive only to be cut short by trying to help his little brother flee and saying goodbye knowing it was the last time while still begging dutch to see some semblance of reason and do not go with micah. who was pointing what at who was a detail lost to memory a long time ago

javier escuella was no one's priority in chapter 6. and that hurts ME but also like javier being able to slip away because not even the pinkertons would prioritizes chasing him over hunting down The Dutch van der Linde. no one remembered or held onto what javier did in chapter 6.

javier is so desperate for the gang back and so willing to forget all the bad things and the dark years between 1899-1911. the gang are honestly pretty happy to just let javier be himself in a much more he wants to be rdr2 guitar playing suave loser javier instead of some dictator's hired gun

john and javier, however, is like. they still love each other guys they are the same breed of doomed as arthur and mary where it just would never work but that love is still there.

javier is sorry john didn't get to go back to his family. he genuinely feels bad because he knows john didn't willingly decide to hunt him down after 12 years (well maybe the gang had to fill him in on the whole abigail and jack were literally being held hostage situation but javier didn't hold onto that anger for long at all)

john very honestly says he is sorry for what happened in 1911 and if he had any other choice he would never choose to capture or kill javier. what he does not say is he has nightmares over the second he pulled the trigger and javier became a corpse and the angst of being so used to seeing corpses but the fact it was javier, having to carry him limp to the awaiting bureau car, the absolute psychological toll it had on him.

there is an intensely painful moment where while neither one says it they are both have the thought of 'well abigail isn't going to be here for three years do we - pick up with how things were in 1899?' cross their minds

But john is so in love with abigail and missing his wife and also having his daughter back having to raise her as a sole parent for 3 years until abigail gets there when the cumulative time he spent with jack one-on-one probably doesn't even add up to three years.

javier is having to redefine himself. he really doesn't know who he is being with the gang again. he half expects to look into the mirror and see his younger rdr2 self but it's not. does he really want to immediately fall back into john and what is for lack of better words an affair? getting to play house and be in a relationship until the second abigail appears and knowing he will never be john's priority over her?

damn if only there was some autistic irish loser who also loves fishing, understands the intense complexity of guilt and betrayed loyalty, abandoning ideals for the sake of survival, and could help javier learn he deserves better than being john's second choice

javier and bill though are also proper friends they get to talk to each other about it because both have very intense responses and different perspectives on beaver hollow. also hc they ran with each other for a fair while after the gang fell apart before splitting off because bill was slowly starting to form his own gang and javier was just tired and did not want to go through that again esp because bill was already power tripping.

[burningexeter]

[WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN]

Before its cancellation, plans for a fourth and potentially final season of Martin Mystery was in the works from Marathon Media and years later, they were eventually leaked out and later confirmed to be true from the creators:

• Season 4 in a change of pace, would've been serialized by having stories that would span multiple episodes and make mini-arcs with them comparing it to the fifth and final season of Totally Spies!, another show of theirs.

• In one of the mini-arcs, we would have saw the return of the Gatekeeper who was last seen in the Season 2 finale which ended on a cliffhanger with him infiltrating the Center with the storyline picking that up with Martin and Billy uncovering it in a conspiracy within the Center itself.

• Others that would've happened were Jenni and returning characters Michelle Dubois, Darla and Kaitlin becoming new agents for the Center, an episode set in Chinatown that would've been an homage to John Carpenter's Big Trouble In Little China, creatures such as the Jersey Devil, mermaids that steal souls and the Ninki Nanka were to be included but in their own different ways, it was going to be revealed that the Center was founded by the first President Of The United States themselves, George Washington himself.

• A new character that would've been introduced and be added to the main cast is Troy — a british gymnast who died of a broken neck back in the 80s but is accidentally brought back to life by Diana and is now a corpse without half of his body and a snapped neck that is has to use duc tape to keep said head up. No, seriously.

• Now one major storyline that would've changed the show and recontextualize it is that while Martin figures it all out by himself, Diana discovers that M.O.M. is in fact her mother and his step-mother. The latter is already on thin ice and working her way to the top with the help of Martin after the Octavia Paine incident but at the end of one of the mini-arcs, Diana discovers this to her shock, disbelief and horror, only be immediately "caught" and kidnapped by M.O.M. who appears right behind her out of the shadows in her room. M.O.M. reveals that she wiped her family's memories of her and has kept them in stasis in order to keep their relationship from interfering with her role as head of the Center, leading to more of M.O.M.'s character being fleshed out which shows her as a strict and morally grey but loving and caring woman who will equally do anything to keep the Center afloat and anything to keep her family safe to which she's called out on by Diana for all of the things that she's been through and all of the things that's happened to her, leading M.O.M. to question herself. To show what kind of drama we're dealing with and were to be dealing with, an episode would've ended with just M.O.M. and Diana driving in a car with the former driving and the latter sitting next to her, Diana apologizes for everything that has just happened and M.O.M. says she know she is and that she's her daughter and nothing will ever change that, she'll always love and care for her no matter what and nothing will ever change that as well but from this point forward to she don't know when, her trust is something Diana is going to have to earn back. Diana hangs her head down in shame as M.O.M. drives off emotionless.

Oh, and M.O.M.'s real name is revealed to be Olivia Lombard.