#(gore isn’t really a problem for me personally)

[official-time-loop-posts]

On the topic of time loop movies, Triangle (2009) - it's a horror movie so there's gore, so if that's a no for you totally understandable, but there's like multiple loops/one loop looping over itself multiple times - it's complicated but also not but super cool to try and figure out

Sounds cool, I’ll check it out!

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,844 Pairing: Negan x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, after the war, Negan is imprisoned Warnings: language, mild gore (killing walkers) Summary: In lieu of Negan's failing mental health, Michonne looks for options and Y/N steps up to do her share. A/N: This is part 1 of a miniseries (maybe 3?? parts) for Negan that I've been working on! I started it as a one shot, but... you know me lol so here we are! Part 2 will be released next week on Wicked Wednesday! Happy reading! “I’m afraid we’ve got a problem,” Michonne said seriously. You exchanged a glance with Daryl.

“What kind of problem? Like, Annoying Steve is being annoying or a new horror is coming to destroy everything we have and love?” you asked wryly.

Daryl let out an appreciative dry laugh but Michonne remained serious. “Somewhere in the middle, I think,” she said. “It’s about Negan.”

Daryl swore and paced a tight circle. “Course it is. Somehow, it’s still always ‘bout him, ain’t it?” he growled.

Michonne forged ahead. “Gabriel is—fed up with him. There’s no other way to say it. He’s not trying to do anymore counseling and he needs a break. I don’t blame him. He’s taken on everything with Negan since—since Rick—”

You frowned, your brow furrowing as grief roared upwards in all of you. “What exactly is the problem?”

“His mental state is really deteriorating,” Michonne explained. “Being in there by himself all the time, just the odd hour or two outside, no one talking to him—”

“Why should we give a shit?” Daryl asked in a low, dangerous voice. “Ain’t the whole damn point of him bein’ in there so he has to suffer for what he did for the rest of his life? His mental state… Fuck. They fed me one fuckin’ dog food sandwich a day after they shoved me into a fucking closet naked. They —”

You reached over and put your hand on Daryl’s arm before he got further charged up. He stopped abruptly and drew in a long breath.

“I know. I know what he did, but no,” Michonne said. “The point isn’t for him to just suffer. If we do that, we become no better than him.”

Daryl glanced at you and let out an exasperated exhale. “Hell, ya already know what I think about it,” Daryl said firmly. “He shouldn’t even be breathin’ still. ‘M the wrong damn person to ask ‘bout this.”

Michonne sighed and leaned forward on her hands. “I’m just trying to honor Carl and—”

“We know,” you interrupted her quickly. You paused thoughtfully. “I—I can take this on. I’ve dealt with him the least so far out of the three of us. Probably makes it my turn.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “What’re ya gonna do? Rub his back while he cries? Hold his fuckin’ hand? I mean, how do we help somebody like him.”

Michonne shrugged. “A little more conversation to start, I think. He said being alone and the boredom is eating him alive. Maybe we come up with some more things for him to do outside the cell.”

You nodded. “I’ll brainstorm,” you said.

Daryl looked concerned, his eyes flickering over you. “Yer gonna have to be careful. He’s a manipulative asshole. And I dun trust a damn thing ‘bout him. If he can get out, he will. Don’t matter what he’d have to do.”

“I’ll be careful. I’m not an amateur, Daryl,” you said, shooting him a smile.

He nodded, ducking his head. “I know. I just gotta say it.”

“Are you sure?” Michonne asked. “It doesn’t have to be one of us. I can talk to some other people.”

“I’ve got it. I’ll start today. I’ll take him his meals and check on him, make sure he gets some time outside the cell. I’ll take care of it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Flat on his back, Negan heard the door open and shut but he barely moved. His eyes stayed closed and he heaved a heavy sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose in some anticipation of annoyance. “Gabey-baby, I am not in the fucking mood for your guidance counselor horseshit today, so why don’t you just turn that tight little toosh around, waltz back out, and leave me the fuck alone…” he said.

“Wow. That was—gross…” you said.

Now, his eyes opened. This was something different. You were different. He swung his legs down and sat on the edge of his cot, his hazel eyes finding you and looking you over. “God Bless America, a change in the fucking monotony,” he said. “Is Gabe still mad at me?”

You approached his cell, tray in hand and nodded. “Yep. In fact, so pissed that he’s officially on vacation from you.”

“Gotta envy that,” Negan quipped. “How do I sign up for one of those?”

“A vacation from yourself?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “I don’t think that’s in the cards.”

“Damn. It was worth asking.” He seemed to be looking you over again and you rolled your eyes.

“My eyes are up here, Negan,” you joked.

His lips curled into a half-smile. “Sorry. But Gabe isn’t exactly my type and I don’t get much chance to look at anything so—”

“Just stop right there, okay?” you interrupted him. You slid his tray through the slot at the bottom of the door and straightened back up.

But Negan wasn’t interested in his breakfast. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” he asked.

“You know perfectly well what my name is, Negan,” you countered.

He cocked his head slightly. “You’re right about that,” he admitted. “So, what’s on the agenda?” he asked, finally moving to grab his tray. He returned to his cot and set it on the small side table.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Gabe was always counseling me. Trying to rehabilitate me. Were you a therapist or something in the old world?” He grabbed the small apple and shined it on his shirt before taking a bite.

“No. But we’re perfectly aware that your mental health has taken a nosedive recently,” you said.

Negan let out a low laugh. “And you give a shit?” he asked skeptically. “I nearly fucking destroyed all of you and you’re worried about my mental health?”

You sighed and nodded once, stiffly. “We’re not the same as you, Negan. We’re trying to do better. And Michonne wants to honor Carl’s vision.” You watched as Negan’s face fell. The look in his eyes grew distant and his shoulders slumped slightly.

“Yeah… He was a helluva kid,” Negan said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you replied, taking a seat in the stiff wooden chair set outside his cell. “I watched him grow up from a scared little kid and survive everything this world threw his way. You have no idea what kind of loss that was.”

Negan was looking at you thoughtfully and you were surprised when he didn’t reply, only nodded, and then returned to his apple.

“The agenda is for me to—” you hesitated for a moment. What the hell was the agenda? “For me to help you how I can. I know you’re alone a lot and you probably need some company, a change of scenery every now and then, mental stimulation…”

Negan laughed and smirked. “That’s not the only kind of stimulation I need,” he said.

You glared at him. “Jesus, Negan…” you murmured, rolling your eyes.

“It’s the truth,” he laughed.

“Yeah, well, I’m not helping you with that. I guess you’ll just have to try your hardest to think back to one of your past six wives,” you sassed.

The grin stayed on his face. “Five,” he corrected you. Then, the smile faded. “But, uh, only the first really counted.” Negan’s head dropped and you watched him curiously.

He was struggling. You’d never sensed so much truth or vulnerability in a single thing that had left his lips.

“I see,” you said.

For some reason, this made him laugh again. “You know, Gabe used to say that all the time. It’s some of that non-value, non-judgement counselor language.”

You stood up suddenly and sighed. “Finish your breakfast. I’m gonna go do a few things and then I’ll be back. We’re gonna get you out of that cell for a while today.” You fixed a stern and perceptive look on him. “If you think you can behave.”

Negan looked curious. “For you? I might.”

You cocked your head at him and looked unamused. “You will, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Negan laughed again and turned back to his food. “Got it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Why don’t I come with ya?” Daryl asked, watching as you slipped the pistol into your holster.

You looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “You think I can’t handle this?” you asked.

“Not that ya can’t handle it. It’s just—it’s Negan. We all know what he’s fuckin’ capable of,” Daryl said, walking behind you out the front door and across the steps.

“You’re conflating past Negan with Negan now. I just talked to him, and I’m telling you—it’s like he’s been robbed of all his menace and power. He’s been sitting in that cell a long time, Daryl. I don’t think he’s the same and I don’t think he’s going to—to suddenly hit me over the head with a rock or something,” you said.

“But outside the walls? Already? Why dun ya just—just start with somethin’ in here first and see how it goes? That way there are other people around and I can stop by when I can and check in.”

You read the intense concern on Daryl’s face and then nodded. “Alright. We’ll stay in the walls today. But I think part of the problem with him is that he hasn’t seen a single different thing outside in too long. He’s going a little stir crazy in there and I can’t entirely blame him.”

“Yeah, well, he fuckin’ deserves it,” Daryl growled.

“He does. But Michonne is right… we should be trying to be better. Otherwise, we should have just killed him.” You paused, trying to come up with something for him to do that would give him a little exercise and change of pace. “I’ll have him help me clear out that area for the new garden plots. There are some plants to harvest over there anyway before we clear it. It’ll teach him something too.`”

Daryl nodded. “ ‘Kay. I’ll stop by and check in,” he drawled. “Just be careful. Dun let yer guard down.”

“You know I never do.” You turned and headed back toward Negan’s cell.

Negan rose from his seat on his cot, the tray from breakfast sitting empty beside him on the small side table. He watched as you withdrew a ring of keys from your back pocket and fiddled with them a moment as you stood in front of the cell door, eyeing the lock. Was this a good idea?

Negan took a few cautious steps toward you, watching your face intensely. “Am I… getting out on good behavior, warden?” he quipped, flashing you a half-smile. It seemed to draw you back out from your reverie.

“Temporarily,” you replied, finally fitting the key into the lock and turning it. The metallic clunk was striking. “If you can handle it…” you added.

The pistol on your hip wasn’t lost on Negan. He nodded. “I think so,” he said. “What’re we doing? Hard labor?”

“Not so hard,” you said. “But I would appreciate your help with something.”

Negan froze just after stepping out of the cell and fixed a queer look on you. “Appreciate?” he repeated.

You nodded. “Mhm…”

His eyebrows lifted. “You better be careful with the way you’re talkin’ to me, Y/N. I might just fall in love with you,” he chuckled. “I haven’t felt appreciated in… oh, I don’t know—how long have I been in here?” he asked, brushing a hand back through his hair.

“Didn’t Gabriel speak nicely to you?” you asked, shutting the cell door behind him, giving him a questioning glance.

“Well, sure. Or maybe not nicely. He was at least neutral,” Negan said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I think I ruined that though.”

You shook your head and sighed. “Yeah, he’s not pleased with you, Negan,” you agreed. “Look, this is just a test run. We’re staying in Alexandria today, but eventually… I’d like to get you outside of the walls on occasion.” Negan looked shocked. “Obviously, that’s going to take trust,” you emphasized. “But I think it would do you good.” You hesitated, wondering if you should admit this to him, but you decided it would be good for him to hear it. “You’re not the same as you were when you were locked in here. And—I intend on finding out if you can really be rehabilitated. Not that I’m ever going to forget what you’ve done… but there’s got to be more than this,” you said, gesturing to the cell behind him, “in your future. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“You’ve just explained exactly what has me so depressed,” Negan admitted. “I’ve spent most of the last however many fucking years wishing Rick had just killed me.”

Those words hung in the air like a toxic cloud. You gulped and couldn’t help feeling an ache of compassion at his words. Compassion for Negan. What a peculiar thought… You tilted your head toward the door. “Come on. Follow me and stay close. And let me be perfectly clear; I will shoot you if you try to pull any bullshit,” you emphasized.

He nodded, his expression surprisingly serious. “Got it.”

You led him out into the summer sunshine and walked through Alexandria until you reached the overgrown section near the wall that you planned to tackle for the day. The two of you had gotten plenty of stares as you moved down the street, but you noticed that Negan had mostly kept his head down. His shoulders were somewhat slumped and he made no witty comments on the walk, though you caught him closing his eyes to enjoy the breeze or staring up at the blue expanse of sky overhead multiple times.

He stopped beside you, his hands in his pockets, as you stared at the tall grass and brambles ahead and sighed.

“What’re we doin’, boss?” he asked.

“We’re going to start clearing this area out so eventually we can put in some new garden plots. But there’s a little more to it. We used to have some medicinal plants in here before it got overgrown. I’m hoping to find them and save them for transplanting, so we can’t just start ripping everything out.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what’s medicinal and what’s not?” he asked.

“I’m gonna teach you,” you said confidently.

Negan laughed a little at the assertion. “Look, doll… I was a gym teacher in the old world. ‘Not Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman,’” he said.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Wow. That was a deep bench reference,” you said.

He smirked at you. “I was pretty proud of it myself,” he said.

You couldn’t help a dry laugh and small shake of your head. “It’s not that hard. We’ll work together to start and I’ll show you how to identify them. The grasses can all be pulled, but we’ll identify the broadleaf plants and get them ready for transplanting if they’re something we can use.”

Negan looked skeptical but shrugged. “Well, you’re the boss. Not like I’ve got a full schedule,” he said.

“Exactly,” you agreed. There was a reason you weren’t just having him pull all the grass and doing the rest yourself. Negan was smart and not having any mental stimulation was probably contributing a lot to his mental health issues. If you gave him a task that was a little physical and a little mental, you were hoping it’d give him a sense of purpose and productivity.

You got started right away, mainly just pulling the grasses and clearing a large area that remained dotted with forbs. It was summer and the respiration of the plants you were sitting in made the air humid. It wasn’t long before you were wiping at sweat along your hairline and stopping to push wet strands back out of your face. For a while, you worked in silence beside Negan, only speaking to instruct him, but he finally tried to start some conversation on his own.

“So, what the hell did you do in the old world anyway? Were you some kind of plant guru?” he asked, pausing to pull off his gloves for a moment and get a drink from the canteen you’d provided for him.

You paused, standing up to look down at him where he knelt in the grass. He was sweaty too, like you were, and his dark blue shirt was clinging to his back in the heat. “I don’t think I owe you my backstory, Negan,” you said. Your tone wasn’t unkind, but it was a little stern.

“Aw, come on. This is part of that trust-building thing you mentioned earlier,” he said, taking another drink. “I’m just trying to figure you out a little bit,” he said.

You crossed your arms and surveyed him. “So, you can better manipulate me when it’s beneficial to you?” you asked.

“What? No,” he said with surprise, and you almost believed him. “I mean—I currently have no concrete plans to manipulate you…” he admitted, a small bit of jest in his voice. “I’m bored all the time in that fuckin’ cell. I could sure use the conversation. Isn’t that what this is about? My ‘mental health’,” he quoted, shooting an expectant look at you.

You sighed. “What do you wanna know?”

Negan licked his lips and then smiled, thinking about what he wanted to ask, but before he could say a word, bootsteps behind the two of you caused you both to look over to see Daryl standing there.

You went to greet him, pulling off your gloves.

“How’s it goin’?” he asked in an undertone, glancing past you to shoot a glare at Negan.

You shrugged. “Fine. It’s been completely fine so far.”

Daryl nodded, but still looked suspicious. “He ain’t tried anythin’?”

You shook your head, dusting the soil from your gloves. “Nope. We’re just working.”

Daryl nodded, still clearly apprehensive. “Well, s’almost noon. Get him back to his cell by 1 and I’ll bring his meal down,” he drawled.

“I can take care of that,” you offered.

“S’fine. I wanna have a word with him anyway.” He put his hand on your shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze, giving you a small smile. “Yer doin’ enough for him. Be careful.”

“Okay,” you agreed, nodding. “See you later.”

When you turned around, you noticed Negan had been watching the interaction carefully. There was a thoughtful look on his face, but when you simply returned and got back to work, he joined you again in silence. You continued on for another hour or so, managing to clear quite a wide area by the time you needed to get Negan back to his cell for a late lunch. You walked beside him, both of you now dirty and plenty sweaty, and your hand strayed to the handle of your pistol again absently.

Negan noticed and broke the silence that had stretched for what felt like a long time. “You’re a fuckin’ great shot with that thing,” he said, nodding toward the gun.

“What?” you asked, turning to look at him, puzzled.

“I said, ‘you’re a great shot’,” he repeated. You still looked confused. “I noticed… during the war,” he said. “I mean—I noticed you but also your aim.” You stared at him, your brow furrowed. “You almost blew Simon’s fuckin’ head off,” he said with a laugh. “If he hadn’t flinched at the last second…” Negan let out a low whistle.

“How’d you know that was me?” you asked.

He shrugged. “Like I said, I noticed you.”

You looked… unsettled? Uneasy? Negan couldn’t quite define it, but there was some sort of tension in the air as you walked him back the rest of the way and finally locked him inside his cell again.

He gripped onto the bars and watched you turn away before he managed to get your name out. You turned toward him again, the high arch of your brow inquiring. “Thanks,” he said. “For today. It was the best fuckin’ day I’ve had in a while,” he admitted.

You gave him a baffled look. “I made you work outside in the sun all morning,” you laughed.

“Yeah… but I wasn’t alone. And I’ve had waaaaay worse company. Just—even if you decide you can’t do more than today, I want you to know that it mattered to me. Thanks.”

That look was on your face again, some mix of surprise and bewilderment. Finally, you sighed. “Daryl’s gonna bring you lunch. I’ll see you later, okay, Negan?”

He nodded, still gripping onto the cold, iron bars of his cell, and watched you walk out.

A short time later, Negan had washed his hands and splashed cool water from his basin over his face, dabbing at it with his small scratchy towel, when he heard the door open again. He looked up to see Daryl coming in with a tray of food and a scowl. He set it down by the slot at the bottom of the cell door and pushed it roughly through with the toe of his boot, almost spilling the water cup. Daryl’s expression didn’t change. It was stony and guarded.

Negan eyed him and then wandered over to grab the tray. He did feel hungry for once, something that had been rare for quite some time. When he straightened up, Daryl’s blue eyes were narrow and stinging.

Negan grabbed the apple off his tray and took a big bite. It was sweet and crunchy, satisfying and refreshing after being in the sun all morning. “Something on your mind, Daryl?” Negan asked, a faint smile on his lips.

Daryl stepped closer, right up to the bars. “Yeah. One thing. If ya fuck up, if ya try to hurt Y/N, if ya pull anythin’ I dun like, I don’t give a shit what Michonne or anybody else is tryin’ to do—I don’t give a shit about your rehab, I’ll put ya in the fuckin’ ground. Got it?”

That smile was still on Negan’s face, annoying the shit out of Daryl.

“I mean it, Negan. Ya hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” he said, taking another bite.

“Good,” he growled, and the archer left.

[luffyvace]

HIHIHIHI TYSM FOR DOING MY REQUEST ^U^ I hope u Don't mind me dropping another one u :'))

Can I have kusuo reaction to Reader-chan being mostly know for her gore/angst/horror series but looks like nothing for a person to write this stuff (she looks absolutely innocent) yet having a (technically an old man) friend who is also anonymous writer for one of kusuo favorite series yet the said look absolutely opposite of it (the reader-chan and her friend are like Junji Ito and hayao miyazaki)

I'm sorry if u couldn't understand the request:')) my English isn't really the best-

HII DARLING! No problem at all! Of course I don’t mind! Request at any time as long as they say open <3

ohhh so she’s a horror writer :> OHHH I was confused at first but as soon as I searched them up and saw the memes I understood 😂💓

This is such a cute and funny topic! Enjoy your hcs anon 💖 ⚠️ Gore mentions⚠️

Kusuo isn’t easily scared.

there are very few things that actually do scare him, considering he can sense everything coming from a mile away

But shows and books are an exception (given he doesn’t stare at the pages to see through the book-)

he’s not normally into horror but your manga is actually very interesting to him!

seeing a bunch of mutilated corpses packed together is quite a gripping sight for him!

and honestly he is obbsessed likes normalcy but your case is a type of unique he doesn’t mind :)

it’s funny since you have this friendly and kind personality and your work is the exact opposite of that 🤗

it’s giving the cute core girlies!! (and guys!! <3) 💓💗💖🌸🌷💞🎀

he still gets the perk of reading the chapter before publish and giving small ideas for stuff

You once put his favorite character from another series in one of the manga panels and he when he noticed it he had a little smile on his face! 💗

he wasn’t excpecting you to do that at all and it was a pleasant surprise ;3

your introduced him to your friend and he also likes his work now!

Y’all are literal polar opposites- and ngl? He enjoys the balance!

like when he wants some exhilarating and goosebump-giving action he’ll pick up one of your mangas’

and when he’s feeling mellow while eating some coffee jelly on his bed his new (second) favorite author to read from is your friend!

His number one author is of course you ♥︎

would recommend his friends (specifically Kaido) one of your mangas to freak them out

they definitely won’t be expecting it seeing as though your such a cheerful person! 🌸🎀🌷

I feel like Torisuka would genuinely enjoy your manga as well!

he doesn’t get scared easily by creepy stuff for obvious reasons 😋

so you’ve got yourself another supporter !!

I have a feeling my girl boss Airua would get creeped out but 1) she wants to support you so she would probably buy and either never read or 2) read it anyway because it’s so interesting

like you captivated people with your work!

just as much as your friend does with more gentler topics

but in a different sense

You make your audience quite literally cover their eyes in fear yet still peak through they’re fingers with anticipation !

like that’s how good it is!

a “I can’t look away” type of thriller!

also you know that really talkative guy with the bob?

yeah he over analyzes your manga once he finds out about it

(which let me tell you- Kusuo tried his hardest to keep him away from it—but much to his luck- he got a hold of it anyway)

thankfully he likes it!

he’s scared- but once again- he just can’t look away :)

he comes to you and gives your extremely detailed compliments and (positive) feedback after each chapter is released and says he can’t wait for more

he also tells his expectations and predictions for the next one and hopes you’ll live up to them

so when your exceed them he’s more than thrilled (GET IT?? Ok..)

he’s practically able to predict every book or manga he reads because he analyzes everything

so when your able to surprise him he’s impressed!

after Kusuo he’s the first one to buy a copy

(cuz yk Kusuo gets those special you-get-the-first-copy-before-it’s-published-because-your-my-boyfriend-privileges)

LOL

the bob guy is low key jealous of him for getting it before it’s even PUBLISHED

tries to bargain you to get that too but it’s strictly reserved for Kuu ♡

okay I looked up bob guy’s name

it’s Akechi Touma (oops)

LOL “bob guy”

enjoy!! Pretty short but I think they’re a delight~

[olympeline]

When I’m in the mood for angsty USUK I love stuff like this because the tragedy of the whole situation is just mmm, so good ✨👌

I’ve never thought Alfred would feel guilty for becoming independent. Not at all, not for an instant. But I do think he’d feel very guilty about hurting Arthur, even though it was totally unavoidable. I think it makes it even more deliciously tragic actually. It doesn’t lesson the blow. Quite the opposite. If Alfred regretted his actions and wanted to go back - aside from being really out of character - it would cheapen the whole thing

I see Alfred’s heroic persona as being genuine. He’s brash and arrogant and boastful but underneath he’s fundamentally good. He’s caring, he’s moral, he’s heroic. How could someone like that not be eaten alive by guilt from hurting a person they adored even if it came from something that needed to be done? Alfred feeling bad about becoming independent? Mm, nah. Can’t see it. Alfred feeling awful because he had no other choice but to hurt Arthur to gain his freedom? Yeeesss. Give it to us, precioussss

It’s just...I don’t know how to put it into words but that kind of situation gets me like almost nothing else. It’s so unfair and unfixable. It helps that Arthur isn’t as much of a good person as Alfred is. He’s crueler, greedier, more ruthless and wretched (I say with total affection) and the whole situation was his fault. But still - but still! But still seeing his pain tears at Alfred worse than anything he’s ever felt. That’s so, so wickedly cruel and I love it. Others would see Alfred’s torment as he watched Arthur crumpled on the ground, choking on blood and gore, and they’d tell Alfred he did nothing wrong. They’d be furious and protective and indignant on Alfred’s behalf as they assured him over and over again that it’s not his fault. And Alfred would hear their words and know they’re right…and it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference whatsoever.

Because not thinking the revolution was justified or that he should go back to being Arthur’s colony was never the problem. The problem was the hero had to defeat the villain to do what was right. But solely by virtue of being the hero, the consequences of Alfred’s actions will never stop tormenting him. It’s just who he is. He’s too good to shrug it off and not care even if he should. He’ll kiss the blood off Arthur’s lips one day and hold him up while he chokes but even then would it be enough to quieten Alfred’s guilt? I don’t know. Hopefully. Maybe. Arthur might forgive him long before Alfred forgave himself. Villains have lower standards than heroes after all

[chaoticbardlady99]

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me (Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader) MDNI 18+

Chapter Six: Four Clerics and a Vampire Spawn Enter a Tomb

Synposis: Astarion is struggling to adjust to not having you around for a little bit, but he amends this quickly. Astarion takes a moment to explore his own wants and needs while you are asleep.

CW: Mentions of torture, gore, m! Masturbation, Astarion being a lovesick mess I just had this, “oh Astarion and Tav were never together so he has no baseline for sexual touch.” And my brain went, “HE DOESN’T HAVE A BASELINE FOR SEXUAL TOUCH” and well- here we are. I hope you enjoy! I have put markers for when smut starts and stops for anyone who isn’t into it :)

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. I did take the picture of ‘Birdie’ and Astarion on my PS5

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Chapter 5: Chapter 7 : AO3

Astarion sits and stares at your broken, crumpled form. He had closed your eyes already and he had dug a hole to bury the cat that so graciously let you inhabit it for so long. 

  He recognizes the country bumpkin arrow as one of Leon’s. How could this happen? Astarion had searched the area high and low for signs of the Bastard and didn’t find a thing- where the fuck did he come from!?

 Astarion lets himself cry as he buries the cat. 

  He can’t feel your presence around him and that terrifies Astarion to no end. He can’t lose you- you are both supposed to be ‘stuck’ with each other forever. 

  Astarion has hopes, dreams, and stupid fantasies about what kind of life you could live together once they were able to resolve your incorporeal person problems. He really just knows that, as long as he’s around you, life will be fun. Hard sometimes, but nothing that couldn’t be talked about or handled. 

 You have given him a rather large lesson in communication and the importance of it- after about six months, you had both celebrated Astarion directly telling you that something you said bothered him instead of lashing out. 

  It had been something stupid- he can’t even remember what it was. He was jealous of some man that you said was very attractive as the two of you peered over the railing of your inn in a small town around Amn. 

 That all feels so trivial now. You could be with anyone if it meant Astarion could have you back right now. He may kill the person and cry, but that’s beside the point. <

  The sun is suddenly embracing him and Astarion feels his body become reinvigorated. 

 You never gave up on him or finding a cure so that he could walk in the sun. You also expressed having hopes and dreams amongst other what-nots. You wouldn’t give up this easily on him and he sure as hell won’t give up on you. 

  You have to be out there somewhere. If you aren’t around him that you had to be teleported somewhere else and if that means storming the Heavens- so be it.

  Astarion immediately begins flipping through Volo’s book- rubbing the stupid pink tulle tutu material between his fingers. 

 It’s a stupid thing to keep- he admits it to himself all the time- but it was such a hilarious sight to see and you had said you hope one day he sees how much you mean to him. Astarion will mess with the crappy material whenever he needs the reminder that he has worth and you are busy doing something or sleeping. It’s helped him a significant amount during the night time- the happy memory soothing his soul. 

  And he desperately needs that reassurance and soothing right now.

 Thankfully, Volo’s book wasn’t totally filled with bullshit- the back detailing a City that is not that far from his current location.

  It’s about two and a half days away. That’s entirely doable and you are more than likely perfectly safe, exploring the city and, with any luck, you are hoping he’s trying to get back to you. 

   He can’t get himself to stop- not even for a moment. He finds himself absentmindedly humming various violin pieces you have played for him since you learned you could be an incorporeal person. 

  He feels border line delirious and he’s pretty fucking hungry if he’s being honest with himself- the creatures he’s finding as he goes aren’t filling enough, but he doesn’t have time to properly hunt. 

   You would be worried and upset with him for not taking care of himself, but he won’t feel okay again until you are back in his sight and within arms length again. 

  The trek is horribly boring- he has become so accustomed to even your little snores during travel that the silence is uncomfortable and wrong. Astarion can’t even begin to imagine how his heart would feel if he tried to fall asleep and stay asleep without you near. 

  The hour he tried to trance out of sheer exhaustion had been full of every nightmare imaginable, but it was a dream of Leon killing you- taking away the only person in the whole world that Astarion would gladly lay his life on the line for. 

  He should have killed Leon the moment he suggested you become a sacrifice for him to get Victoria back. Astarion would sooner go back in time sacrifice him and the other spawn than hand you over if that’s what it took to keep you safe.

 At least in that reality, you could both be together and he would never have to worry about losing you because he wouldn’t have to worry about fucking Leon. 

  He just knows Leon is involved- he can feel the irritation in his bones grow with each minute he walks. 

  Astarion races through the forest- being mindful enough to not go barreling through some poor soul just minding it’s own business. 

 For once, he isn’t looking for a fight. He just wants to get to you and leave- get far away from this Gods awful place and begin your lives together somewhere far, far away.

  The second day feels even worse than the first- twenty four hours was far too long and he was growing more worried by the second stint of his journey.

What if Leon finds you before Astarion does?

 Astarion is worried that Leon will convince you to sacrifice yourself for his daughter if he gets to you first- something he knows you would do without a second thought. 

  Astarion finds himself begging the universe that, for once, he is good enough for someone to stay for him- wait for him. 

 Worth someone being a little bit selfish for once.

 What if he isn’t? What kind of life could a transient vampire spawn offer you? Would you willingly remain a ghost if you had the choice or would you pass on?

 He attempts to trance again when his thoughts become overwhelming. He continues, however, to refuse sleeping for very long or take the time to properly hunt. 

 He knows what his needs are and he will take the time later. However, time isn’t a luxury he thinks he can afford right now.

 Astarion needs you- he’s doing this for himself more than anything.

 His second hour long trance is much better. He dreams of you in his arms, held tightly to his chest- your hair fanning out on a plush pillow while he leaves gentle kisses on your face and you giggle happily. You are here again and everything is okay. 

  Astarion wakes up crying when he realizes it’s only a trance- a trick of the mind. His lips yearn to know how your skin feels underneath them.

 Astarion needs you back by his side yesterday. One day was unacceptable as is, but two? His world feels tilted. 

   He feels like he can breathe again when he spies the massive Watch Tower in the distance- the black, oddly shaped tower looms over the other buildings and it’s presence demands to be seen. 

  His feet lead him through the gates of the City of Manifest and he makes a B-line to the Hall of Farewells. There are people everywhere enjoying their loved ones, but no sign of you yet. 

  Astarion goes to the front of the line- ready to knock whoever over so that he can talk to the teller. Your life very well could be in danger- Astarion hasn’t seen any signs of Leon in the Underdark, but you can never be too careful and that arrow was definitely one of his shitty homemade ones.

 “Hey! You can’t just cu-“

 Astarion gives the man a menacing, unblinking smile. The man gulps nervously.

 “You were saying?”

 “Ha, uh I was just saying, go right on ahead! You can cut me anywhere, anytime.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, my Boy,” Astarion says with a sneer, “otherwise you may not live to see the light of day.”

 A dawning realization of horror crosses the man’s face.

“That’s not what I-“

 “NEXT!”

  Astarion waves, “that’s my cue- I will find your delicious self later.” 

 He snickers to himself after he turns around- the man was positively green-, but when he goes to look down next to him to be chastised by you as you begrudgingly laugh- he’s reminded once again of his current twisted reality. 

  It’s only been 56 hours and he misses you so much- there is a massive hole in his chest with every step he takes and he is praying to every God that you are here. 

 “Hello! Welcome to the Hall of Farewells,” an elderly woman stands behind the counter, “who are you looking for today, young man?” 

  If you were here? You would have busted up laughing. 

“Young man, my ass!” 

  He can’t help, but smile slightly to himself as a tear begins to fall from his eye. 

“I’m looking for Althaeastra Rothwell? She goes by Birdie,” he gestures to show your height, “about this tall, beautiful, kind, hilarious, plays the violin really well.” 

 “Well- that is more than enough information for me to help you!” The elderly woman states while beaming, “she must be a very special woman and how lucky of her to have such a wonderful partner.”

 “I’m the lucky one, actually,” the words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them. 

  The woman smiles even brighter and Astarion has to try very hard to keep himself from blushing like a smitten school boy.

 Good Gods, he thinks, stop being a grieving, emotional mess and focus. You can be weird and dissect your feelings later once you find Birdie.

  The woman claps her hand and performs some kind of magic on a book that flips pages with the intensity of a storm. Names are jumping from the pages- sorting through nicknames, letters, dates of death, etc. until a bright DING alerts the elderly woman that the spell is complete.

 “Ah yes! Miss Rothwell! She hasn’t been here too long- only a couple days,” the woman muses, “hmm well, it looks like your brother already went off to find her. My guess is that you will find her with him.” 

 Astarion feels his entire body become significantly colder than it already is. 

 No- Leon couldn’t have bested him this time. How did Leon get here ahead of him? He did so many perimeter checks before entering the Catacombs and Leon was nowhere to be found. There should be absolutely no reason for him to be here- unless he had planned to kill you so you are a ghost again? That would make sense and it would force you two apart. 

 “Which brother?”

  The woman cocks her head at him and then a realization seems to be forming in her mind.

 You weren’t supposed to be going anywhere with Leon and it’s likely this woman just directed you to your actual death. 

 “His name is… Leon,” she reads the name uneasily, “she wrote only your name in the registry- specifically put ‘WAITING FOR ASTARION’. Brayden tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted. Your brother came in shortly after and checked the registry.”

 Astarion damn near loses it- screaming profanities inside his head and desperately trying to keep from exploding all together. He can’t protect you from prison so he needs to play nice. 

 Afterwards? Well, let’s just say Astarion may be creating a list of people he wants to Falcon punch in the throat after you are safe and with him again. You most likely won’t approve, but he told you not to go wandering off with strangers! You do not have the combat experience or street smarts to be able to protect yourself. 

  Astarion goes to ask another question when a man comes racing in with a very mutilated, but living ghost. An insignia with a boot print and compass rose is on the front. The man’s black, curly locks are mangled and blue stained.

  The older man is hysterical- begging someone to save his son as pieces of him begin to fall away and disappear. Astarion feels a wave of panic go through his body. 

 “Brayden,” the elderly woman gasps, “Gods help us!” 

  A group of clerics descends on the men and tries to help the man who was evidently giving you a tour. Another group goes racing out the door in the direction the body was found. Astarion makes note of this “Tombyard District” and begins to leave. 

  His body, however, freezes as he approaches the young Ghost laying out on the floor- wheezing painfully and his eyes meet Astarion’s a look of recognition. You must have talked about Astarion a lot.

 Brayden’s eyes seem to scream back at Astarion, “she’s in danger! You need to save her!” 

 Astarion would know that magic and knife work anywhere- Leon got to you and this poor man probably tried to defend you. It disgusts Astarion that he is grateful for a perfect stranger, but anyone who has attempted to keep you safe is okay in his books. 

  He will not lose you to this place and he will make sure Brayden’s suffering was not in vain or yours for that matter. 

  Astarion leaves the Hall of Farewells- realizing that the more he sits there and listens to that man wail for his adult son to stay with him, the more and more hopeless and scared Astarion becomes. 

  Leon was Cazador’s best hunter, but it was because he was an aggressive meathead about the whole thing. It irritated the piss out of everyone. He wasn’t subtle and was more than happy to swoop in and steal your mark if it meant he could get back to the Palace faster. 

  It doesn’t take very long for Astarion to track Leon, but he’s alarmed when the faint scent of his other siblings begins to tickle his nose. The guard at the entrance of the Tombyard warned him against going in this late, but Astarion has a feeling he doesn’t have much time. 

 He stole a Ring of Manifesting on the way there so that after he finds you, you can both run straight to Waterdeep. Astarion had used one of his sending spells detailing what is going on to Tav and Gale just in case you both go MIA, but they are expecting both of you to be there. Admittedly, Astarion is quite proud of himself- you are always on him for not having a plan and this time he actually has a plan!

  The smell of rotting flesh and the sound of people crying over their loved ones rings through his ears. There are multiple funerals occurring at once- mostly Drow and a few Humans. 

 The area is not cozy nor is it an aesthetically pleasing place to rest, the buildings look like warehouses for the bored and lonely and the statues along the streets are even graveyard-esque. It makes him uncomfortable- he doesn’t necessarily care for graveyards anymore. Not that he ever did, really.

 There are alleyways here and there, but only one has Leon’s scent and the other scent is Lavender and something else he can’t pick up on. It has to be you which makes Astarion feel even more sick.

 What did he tell you about following random strangers places!? One time you followed a man with white hair because you thought it was Astarion and you had been missing for an hour and a half. 

 Now you have been missing for probably two Gods damn days!

 The scent leads him to an alleyway and the stench of rot becomes worse- Astarion can practically feel the pull of the weave in the air and the dark art of Necromancy.

 Wonderful, just wonderful. 

  Astarion creeps along the wall- grateful that he listened to your suggestion about wearing solely black armor. It made sneaking around much easier and if he’s about to face a necromancer without a Cleric around then he’s going to need every advantage he can get. 

  A few new scents are in the air- much cleaner than the heavy must that threatens to suffocate him. 

Think before you act, Astarion reminds himself, being irrational is not going to bring Birdie back to you any faster. 

  As he comes around a corner as slowly as he possibly can, he pulls his daggers out with the pointed ends against someone’s throat- he is met with a set of piercing blue eyes and earthy brown eyes. Both individuals appear to be clerics and they both gesture for Astarion to be quiet- that they are not a threat. Two other people become more visible to him. 

 Astarion recognizes the individual symbols on their chest as Uhanam- a lawful neutral God that is about law and intelligence-, Durann- a Lawful Good God that is about healing and listening to laws, and Aluvan- protector of Ghosts. He doesn’t recognize the other God, but she has the same symbol as the poor Cleric who had been severely injured trying to protect you.  

  A door appears further down an alley and a man that smells of Undeath with a beating heart comes walking down the alley. Astarion recognizes him as a Shadar Kai almost instantly. 

  Much to his irritation, the individuals let him pass by them, but he watches one use sleight of hand to maneuver the keys off his belt. The Shadar Kai doesn’t even so much as flinch. It’s rather impressive and Astarion enjoys the shit eating grin the Wood Elf flashes at their fellow clerics. 

  You would really like these people. Astarion will like them as long as none of them attempt to take you away from him. 

 “Alright,” one of the clerics, a blonde halfling woman, releases a sigh of relief before continuing her whispering, “hello- are you friend or foe?”

  “Depends,” he whispers back, “are you going to kill everyone-including the people they have held captive- or are you on a rescue mission.”

 “Rescue and revenge mission- actually,” the half- elf woman with the same insignia as Brayden says, “they tried to kill my fellow Cleric, Brayden- my husband in fact, and they kidnapped the person he was showing around. We just hope she’s still alive- this Lich doesn’t hang onto people very long.”

  Of course it’s a fucking Lich. 

 “For all of your sake,” Astarion snarls, “you better hope she is alive.” 

“Your loved one, I take it?” the halfing says.

 Astarion nods- they need to know there is someone here for you and if they so much as look at you funny, he will kill them with absolutely no remorse to show for it. 

 “That settles it then,” the Wood Elf says, “let’s go save some folks and kick some ass!” 

 It was like being around Karlach- the cleric has a goofy grin and an even goofier vibe.

  Astarion follows them- trailing behind so that he can take more time to search and see you before it becomes a bloodbath. 

 You just have to find her and get out of here, Astarion repeats like a mantra in his head, she is alive, she is safe-ish, she is okay. Everything is going to be fine because it has to be fine.

  The place is filled to the brim with various undead creatures haunting it’s halls. Some creatures he has never even seen before and others look like they are stitched together with mismatched parts. 

  Astarion tries to swallow his panic- no sign of you yet so you may just be caged some-

 “NO PLEASE!” your voice screams through the air and the sound of you struggling against someone rings alongside your voice, “PLEASE! I- DON’T WANT TO BECOME THAT- PLEASE!!!!!!” 

   You cry out in pain and Astarion begins barrelling past the Clerics who are trying to stop him, but they can figure it out. He needs to get to you. 

 Astarion pushes past every individual who comes by him- some try to attack him and he is quick to rebuke them or kill them with one blow. Your screams are becoming more and more panicked- you sound like you are fighting for your life and Astarion wishes you were aware that he is right here- nothing will happen to you.

 He just needs to find you and then you never have to come to this horrible place ever again.

“ASTARION!” your cries are coming from down the hall, “ASTARION, HELP! PLEASE!” 

   Your voice has begun to sound gargled, but he knows he’s on the right floor- the scent of Lemongrass hanging in the air like a blessing. 

  When he finally finds the room you are in, he watches as some kind of magic tries to contort you into something else entirely. You are fighting to prevent it- tears streaming down either side of your face.

“Astarion- please hurry,” your anger and your voice being reduced to a tearful whisper, “I’m not ready to die.” 

  And he’s not ready for you to. In fact, Astarion feels positively homicidal. 

  Within a millisecond, Astarion is shoving his daggers between the Lich’s ribs and it cries out in surprise- Astarion uses an arrow of Thunder and sends the Lich crashing into the wall- one of it’s arms dislocating in the process. 

 The Shadar Kai descend on him and you struggle against your restraints- trying to get away from the ones that are trying to hold you back down and keep him from getting to you. They are unlatching your restraints and dragging you towards another hall. The Lich waiting like a coward behind it’s soldiers. 

 “ASTARION!” you scream, “BEHIND YOU!”

   He sends another Shadar Kai to the Shadowfell thanks to your warning, only to have one of the Shadar Kai holding you cut your throat, an angry growl leaving Astarion,and he cuts through every creature his blade can get it’s sharp edge on. 

   A crash from behind him and the horrific creature that comes racing into the room distracts Astarion and he’s grateful that the Clerics had caught up with him because he wouldn’t have been able to save himself from the oncoming Ghoul running towards him otherwise.

  He makes eye contact with Dalyria, but it’s not her eyes. The sight of his siblings and their fate makes Astarion feel ill- the Lich gestures and suddenly they are collapsing to the ground in a ball of red magic. The blood curdling scream of anger that leaves Astarion’s mouth scares him.

  The Lich looks like he’s about to shit himself.

 Not only had this horrible, unnatural creature taken you and harmed you significantly- it had destroyed his family. The only one he knows and remembers. The only people in the whole world who know what it means to suffer just as well as he does.

  The creature gets back up and the Lich doesn’t have time to dodge before one of it’s unnaturally strong hands grabs it’s face and sends it’s flying away from the hall- it’s skull begins to crack the moment he makes impact with the wall.

  The Lich uses shadow step to retreat down one of the hallways as his siblings run at him again- looking rather pleased that they chased it off.

  He feels angry- it won’t be safe for you or his siblings here or anywhere with that Lich fucking off. Astarion wants to go after it- desperately and end this once and for all, but he knows he can’t. 

  Instead, he returns his attention back to the battle and getting to you as you continue to struggle against your captors. He’s over there in seconds- uses Dimension Door to put you in a safe corner and then using Misty Step to get back into battle. The creature that is his siblings stand protectively in front of you- waiting to destroy anyone who dare harm you. Their eyes meet his and they nod- we’ve got her. 

  He tries not to cry from sentiment alone- they care about him enough to keep you safe so he can focus on killing the other enemies in the room and Astarion never thought he would see the day where that would ever happen. It’s a shame it’s probably too late now to try to start over with each other again. 

  The remainder of the creatures are destroyed and Astarion personally mutilates the individual who decided cutting your throat was a fantastic idea. 

  Once it all calms down and everyone is dead- the Clerics lock the hallway door where the Lich had run away and they gesture for the mix and match of his siblings to follow as they exit the building. 

  The Aluvan Priestess, the Halfing, is the one to assure them that they would reverse their condition, they’ve apparently done it before and he hears your choked sigh of relief. He’s surprised to see the monstrous versions of his siblings look at you with hopeful eyes and you back at them. 

 It must have been a horrible 56 hours. 

 Brayden’s cleric in arms and wife comes over and heals your throat, your wrists, and offers you a clean outfit. You are shaking as you take the clothes and you look at the woman with your lower lip trembling.

“Is Brayden okay? He was trying to keep me safe.”

 The woman nods and smiles, “he’s in rough shape, but nothing he won’t be able to come back from- thank Wyst.”

 That seems to make you cry harder and Astarion is quick to scoop you up into his arms now that the initial shock of everything he has just seen has worn off. You cling to his neck, your arms wrapped around him tightly, and he just rubs soft circles into your back.

 “It’s safe now, Birdie,” he whispers, “I will never ever let anyone harm you again.” 

             *****************************

   It’s later in the evening when you seem to finally be more yourself again, but Astarion can tell that something horrible happened to you at the hand of the Lich. He is refraining from asking- not wanting to upset you or push you too hard. 

  You are drinking the honey mead in your hand heavily- eating bread and cheese along side it. Ghosts can’t get hung over so you took it as an opportunity to try to drown out the events of the last couple days. 

  It’s when you look at him with tearful eyes that he knows you are truly, honest to Gods suffering. 

“Darling?” He gently takes your hand in his, “what is it?” 

 You look up at the ceiling with a trembling lip before looking him in the eyes again.

 “He cut me open,” you choke, “he- he took out my organs and put them in other bodies before putting them back in mine.

“Then he was going t- to,” you shake as you try to get through your next sentence, “he was going to turn me into a Necroplasm. A horrible creature only made of bone and ectoplasm. Lifeless; thoughtless.”

  Your face is back in your hands and Astarion is feeling an incredibly confusing amount of emotions right now.

 He wants to hunt down that lich and destroy the bastard limb by limb, over and over again until he finally shows the last bit of mercy he could- breaking the phylactery. 

 But he also wants to get out of the City of Manifest entirely. His siblings are all separated again- temporarily Ghosts, but incredibly happy to not be melded together while the Clerics search for the remainder of their bodies to reconstruct. He has no idea how it works, but apparently the Gods over manifest are much kinder than the ones who dominate the rest of Faerun.

  Leon is the only one who hasn’t come back, but he’s dead to Astarion either way. He was quite impressed with the amount of damage you had been able to inflict. Once he teaches you how to use a dagger, you could truly be unstoppable.

 However, that’s for a later date when you become settled.

 Gale sent him two tickets to teleport to Waterdeep and you seemed to be relieved that you wouldn’t be staying here- you want to come back, but after you feel more confident in your ability to protect yourself.

  Tav and Gale are getting married in a few weeks- Waterdeep will be good for both of you. It will be familiar and comfortable.

 You can stay together in the room you usually occupy, he will keep watch if that’s what you need to sleep for a while. 

 Anything to make you feel safe again. 

 “I feel so violated,” you sniff and laugh sadly to yourself, “I have the worst luck. The first touch I receive in three and a half centuries and it’s while I’m being cut open and fit to others like a puzzle piece- like a thing.

“I could feel it,” you wipe your eyes, “every horrible thing those people felt before they died. I felt their love and misery for the people they were never going to see again-“ 

  This was not how Astarion wanted this reunion to go- Leon is dead, but it would never feel like enough. 

 Leon took honest, innocent moments you deserved to have and tainted them- all for something that was never going to happen anyway.

 A Lich is a Lich and he’s going to hunt the bastard down- you were just a victim of opportunity in his eyes. 

 “I wish I had gotten there faster,” Astarion whispers, “this isn’t how I imagined this going.” 

 “What do you mean?” You ask, wiping your eyes.

 Does he tell you that he envisioned at least kissing you? If you wanted? Now it feels like it would be pressuring you.

“It’s not imp-“

“No- enough about me,” you say, “I want to know what you’ve been doing and how life in the sun has been!” 

 Astarion smiles softly, “there hasn’t been a life in the sun without you. I barely noticed- I was focused on getting here to you.” 

  “Wait, really?” he nods in affirmation, you smile widely at that, “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who missed hanging around.” 

  You look so happy looking at him- you are wearing his shirt since your own clothes had been practically destroyed and the clothing that was lended to you was uncomfortable. 

 “I’m going to wash my face and all the ick from these last couple days off real quick- I’ll be back.”

  He couldn’t help but miss you- even a room away when you go to wash off.  Astarion had braided your hair back afterwards. 

  Every part of you is beautiful and lovely- he was so scared he lost you without ever getting to see what would happen between the two of you. He hates how gushy and mushy he’s become over the last two days- at this rate, he’s just going to embarrass himself when you ultimately don’t return his feelings.

“Be my date for Tav and Gale’s wedding,” he blurts out of nowhere.

  Nice going panty dropper- you call that romantic?

 “What?”

  You literally said one sentence and blew up the whole thing, Astarion scolds himself.

  Astarion clears his throat, “I couldn’t think of a better plus one nor anyone I would want to suffer through the cheesy affair with.” 

 “Yes!” You exclaim, jumping up, “one hundred thousand times yes! Oh my gosh!!!!!! We will need to go shopping or thieving- who cares- I GET TO GO TO A WEDDING WITH MY FAVORITE PERSON!!!!!” 

 Oh thank Gods.

  Your once melancholy mood has shifted and Astarion feels a warm glow in his chest. He can already think of what cut would fit you best, what colors, how your hair should look, etc. 

  You ask him so many questions- what color does he think would be best? Will you match with him? What color would be best for both of them? And “GODS ABOVE HOW WILL I DO MY HAIR AND MAKE UP!? I’m out of practice!”

 Oh and you made it very clear- absolutely no tulle or crowns. 

 You both somehow decide on lavender and silver. Astarion figures he’ll wear silver with lavender designs and you will do the opposite. 

“What if I don’t remember how to dance!?” You say, mortified, “I’ll embarrass us both!!!”

 “Oh the horror- to be forced to save my darling damsel in distress from tripping over her own heels,” he teases, pushing a stray hair out of your face, “I’m sure I have more than enough dancing experience for both of us.”

 You look at him and bite your lip- a little bit of worry in your eyes.

“What is it, my Sweet?”

  He struggles to stop his smile at the nice blush that courses under your skin at the term of endearment.

“I- I know you hate parties,” you start cautiously, “are you sure you want to dance and everything? We don’t have to if it would make you unhappy. Just being there with you would be more than enough. Unfortunately I can’t offer not going, I think Tara would murder me.”

  Well that is… unexpected. Astarion’s body feels like it’s radiating with happiness and affection- you are quite literally perfect.

 Pull yourself together.

 “I’ll be fine, my Dear,” he says with a slight dismissive wave of his hand, “besides, this is my first party as a free man- who knows? Maybe I’ll become a party fiend.”

 “Ha! I don’t think you like people enough to do that.”

 “But I like you enough to,” he states, “so if you would like to go to them from time to time- I have no qualms.” 

  Gods when did he become such a romantic? 

  You, on the other hand, look like you might explode and he can’t tell why, but he hopes he hasn’t pushed it too far. Astarion is quickly reassured when a coy, mischievous smile passes over your face. 

“I promise I won’t make you go to too many parties,” you tease, “one too many and one might end up being a funeral.”

“Ah see, that’s my kind of party!”

“Oh my Gods,” you shake your head, giggling, and put it in both of your hands, “you don’t even like cemeteries.”

“You don’t need a cemetery for a funeral if you are creative enough, Darling,” he smiles cheekily, “I do put the fun in funeral after all.”

  You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile at his Gods awful pun- he learned it from Shadowheart on their adventures and he loves to sprinkle it into conversations. 

“Fair.” 

   Somehow, you eventually end up asleep in his arms in the plush Inn bed like he had dreamed about the other night. You snore softly as Astarion holds you closely to him- making a point of looking at the door and windows frequently enough so there aren’t any surprise visitors. 

  Astarion has never actually cuddled with anyone (willingly, at least). Anyone who’s ever been in a bed with him has been condemned to becoming Vampire spawn (he almost wishes they had all just been dead). It was just sex, nothing more or less. Sure people offered, but it never felt right. 

  This? This feels right and like you were made for him. It’s a miracle truly- Intimacy without any sexual touch and he has the choice to be there, curled up around you. 

  It feels heavenly- better than his trances could have ever imagined. 

  You are both the same temperature so you almost feel warm to the touch. Your eyes are moving back and forth as you dream, he is relieved to see a content smile on your face. 

 Astarion is prepared to be there for you if you have nightmares. You have taught him that just having someone to comfort you is enough. He just wishes you didn’t experience any of it in the first place, but he won’t be keeping you too far out of reach or unguarded so hopefully it will never happen again.

  Eventually sleep takes Astarion too and he’s grateful for the somewhat peaceful rest- until it turns into a full blown fucking sex dream. 

  Astarion tries not to jolt you awake- somehow aware enough of his surroundings to know you are still there. You are still fast asleep- dawn is coming and Astarion is not, which could very well be a problem if you wake up while he’s hard.

   He sneaks away to the washroom- making sure to lock the door. 

 He will just take a bath, cool himself off, and then go back to bed for a cuddle. It’ll be like this never happened. 

(Smut begins)

 He’s never actually masturbated and there is a significant amount of weariness when he thinks about the idea. Sure he’s done it for show, but never in a private, alone moment.

  Astarion has basically been celibate for the last nine months and of course, now that you are a ghost person again, his libido decides to rear it’s ugly head.

 He doesn’t even know if you actually want him that way!

  The water is lukewarm and Astarion leans back against the tub- willing his hard on to go away already. It feels almost impossible to forget his trance- the way your pretty mouth looked around his cock, the way you keened when he filled you for the first time, the dance that takes the act from slow and romantic to something else entirely. 

  Wild, passionate- unrehearsed. 

  Astarion wraps his hands around his cock- desperate for any release he can get at this point. He isn’t going to be able to will this trance or these desires away and he is entirely in control of the act- if he becomes uncomfortable or begins to dissociate, he can stop. 

 “You don’t have to sleep with these people,” you reminded him softly, “Hells- you don’t have to do any of it at all if you don’t want to! Even if you are both naked and you’re already inside the person- you can stop. A good person, a person worthy of you, will respect your needs and be understanding.”

  Astarion can stop. You helped him with this realization nine or ten odd months ago. 

   He strokes himself slowly at first, trying to mimic the movements of the trance- starting with your mouth. You are inexperienced and Astarion imagines teaching you how to suck him off- your wide, beautiful eyes looking up at him eagerly as he praises you for being such a good girl for him.  

  His breath hitches when he runs his thumb over the head and applying a bit of pressure over his slit, his hips bucking upward and his brain paints the beautiful picture of him thrusting into your mouth- guiding your movements by grasping your hair as gently as he possibly can as he gets closer and closer to his peak. 

  In this fantasy- you moan around his mouth and you are touching yourself while taking his whole length until he hits the back of your throat. You wear his shirt like you are now- nipples pert, your breasts swaying as he thrusts into you. Your eyes are lustful, hazy, and wanting.

  Astarion’s head goes back by instinct- a breathy moan escaping his mouth and he’s thinking about what it might be like to be inside you. What it would be like to finally connect with someone he adores intimately. 

  He imagines exploring every single inch of you- finding what makes you wet and wanting for him. Astarion will ruin you for any other lover- his tongue teasing your clit and lapping up your juices like a man dying of thirst. 

 Astarion wants- no, needs- you to be crying out his name and telling him how you will only ever be his like he will only ever be yours. 

(Smut ends)

  He reaches his peak much faster than he anticipated- the release feeling like heaven. Astarion pants as he stares up at the ceiling, entirely blissed out. 

 Now that was incredible. He can understand why people enjoy it from time to time.

 His mind continues to think of you and it gets caught on the words the elderly woman had said earlier today- about how you were lucky to have him and vice versa. Astarion let’s his brain indulge for a millisecond before locking the thought back into the “we aren’t going to talk about this right now, self!” box.

 Althaeastra “Birdie” Ancunín. She would want a nice, but simple ring- nothing gaudy, he pauses his thoughts, or maybe she needs one simple ring and one gaudy one. Especially with her ability to pick up music again. What if she has to dress especially nice for an occasion? The ring should at least be able to tell people all the way out in the courtyard that she is spoken for. 

  He pushes his guilty pleasure thoughts aside. You are his dearest and closest companion- he will not screw that up by making you feel like you have to be in a relationship with him or like you have to jump into something right away. You just started your life and why would Astarion be your top pick? He’s a disaster- with or without you. 

  Well, the bliss was wonderful while it lasted. Now he’s just sad.

  After cleaning up- Astarion finds himself leaning against the door frame, jealous of the warm rays of sun that get to kiss your face first thing this morning. You are still asleep and don’t stir when Astarion climbs back into bed behind you. 

  One day, he will tell you his feelings, but for now? Astarion is going to try to go back to sleep.

***********************************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper

[polyklok]

Movies I think Dethklok members would really like

No this is not based on anything I’m just in a mood™ rn

Nathan Explosion

Mad God

So, no, I did not have any ounce of an idea of what this movie was about when I originally watched it, and I’m still not 100% sure tbh but an hour and a half of these pure vibes would totally be up Nathan’s alley. The post-apocalyptic setting, all the gore, the details of the various monsters, and I think he would just really appreciate it from an artist’s standpoint as well. This movie would just resonate with him, even if he wouldn’t have a fucking clue what was going on the whole time.

Mary and Max

I’m, personally, a bit on-the-fence about this movie, but it is undeniably sweet and I headcanon Nate to be on the spectrum so 🤷

This would be, like, his guilty pleasure film. The movie he knows is for kids and is totally not brutal but he loves it anyway. The, “I do not feel disabled, defective, or a need to be cured” really hits for him every single time. He rewatches it at least once every few months, especially when he’s in some sort of emotional slump.

Mandy

Another one that just like, like, big Nathan energy, you know? He just seems like a guy to really love loose plots with trippy visuals and strong emotions attached to them. Also, this movie is so completely badass, it is certified metal in his book. He also finds the story incredibly tragic; having the love of your life stripped away from you in such circumstances really tugs at his heartstrings, but in a way that gets him pumped up rather than sad. This is probably his go-to when people ask, “what’s your favorite movie?”

Pickles the Drummer

Son in Law

Okay this is my guilty pleasure movie. I usually don’t like stoner-comedy from the 90s, but this movie hits different. Maybe I just find Crawl hot. Anyway, I’m projecting that onto Pickles. He honestly probably finds a lot of crappy comedies to be peak film, and this is no exception. Pauly Shore pretending to be a country boy for a whole movie? Hells yeah. Pickles would watch while high off his mind, laughing his butt off and going to town on some cheez-its or something. And you know what? He deserves it.

Opal

I’m counting short films because I feel like Opal is the movie for Pickles. He’d watch it on a whim, because these are not usually the types of things he enjoys, and then he’d in tears over the emotional rollercoaster he did not agree to go on. Like, he grew up in a neglective household with authority figures that were overly-selfish and projected their own problems onto the youngest one in the house, to which he had to hide within his own brain more often than not just to properly function. And then he just…watched it happen all again in the hypnotic style of Jack Stauber. The Mom’s song had him in gasping tears for a while, the way you get when a movie somehow perfectly captures your own trauma right in front of you. And the ending??? Ugh. Go watch Opal, guys, it’s on YouTube.

Nathan and Pickles both get very emotional about certain stop-motion films, isn’t that crazy?

House

Thank you to Lucy for this Letterbox review that I think he would write

Anyway-

This movie is actually so insane. It’s not scary in a horror-movie way, like it meant to be, it’s scary as in ‘What the hell is happening and why do I understand it?’ Pickles doesn’t like most traditional horror films, as the long, quiet suspense bores him and the sudden jumpscares freak him the hell out way more than they should. But he loves the campy-wacko-type horror that they were apparently making in 70s Japan. It’s just scary enough to get his heart pumping, but the pure silliness of it all overrides that, getting him in a giddy mood and excited to see what happens next.

(No I am not done but tumblr won’t let me add more pictures)

[chaoticm0therfvcker]

Arrogant Whelp (CRK modern AU)

Tags: modern au, purecacao fluff and angst, my oc, clotted cream being a dick, lots of swearing, my oc beats up clotted cream but there isn’t a ton of gore

Summary: a modern take on the big reveal from cookie odyssey, taking place in Caffeines bar.

It was just after sundown, and Dark Cacao, Hollyberry, and Pure Vanilla were hanging out in Caffeine’s bar, Night and Day Cafe. It was a coffee shop by day, and a bar at night, and the three found themselves there often. Cacao would often get himself a coffee before work and pick up a tea for Vanilla, and Hollyberry had spent countless nights there drinking “berry juice” and talking with Caffeine about their current adventures. Unfortunately, despite being close friends, it had been forever since they had been able to hang out together just the three of them. They would have invited White Lily and Golden Cheese as well, but Lily was still recovering from her several year long coma and Golden decided that with a little kid in the house, it would be best that they do something during the day so she could introduce the gang to Fettuccine. So here they were, Hollyberry having her usual drink while Dark Cacao and Pure Vanilla treated themselves to cocktails they didn’t drink very often. They were chatting, catching up on major life events, joking around about the relationship between Crunchy Chip and Wildberry, and even getting Caffeine involved in the conversation whenever the topic switched to travel plans or some sort of crazy event they felt she would be interested in. And of course, Cacao and Vanilla teasing her slightly whenever she got flustered from Hollyberry’s responses.

Then, as any lovely outing among friends would face, it was ruined by a rather arrogant eavesdropper, more specifically, a regular at Night and Day that Caffeine did not get good vibes from.

His name was Clotted Cream.

“Well, hello there,” he started, glancing at the three from across the bar while swirling his drink, “fancy seeing you here.”

Dark Cacao stifled a groan. He knew Clotted Cream, as well as just how annoying he was. He would constantly try to get between Vanilla and Cacao, making comments on their parenting skills, trying to reveal lies (even though they were almost always just surprise anniversary gifts), and even outing Vanilla as bisexual to Dark Cacao, as if he didn’t already know that. He was constantly trying to get between them, get under their skin, do whatever he could to trigger any sort of drama for his own personal entertainment. He didn’t even have a crush on one of them, although he did try fake confessing to Pure Vanilla a few times. He just enjoyed the drama, and seemed so defeated every time his stupid tactics didn’t work. It was pathetic, really, and even Caffeine had jumped in and shut him up a few times. However, this time he took it too far.

“What do you want, Clotted?” Pure Vanilla asked, “my husband knows I’m bisexual, he knows I don’t love you, he knows that Dark Choco’s angsty teenager phase took a really dark turn, and we both know that we have surprise anniversary gifts for each other that we would like to stay a surprise.”

“It’s almost funny how desperate you are to cause problems between them,” Hollyberry chimed in, “I mean, it’s pathetic, but it’s practically turned into a game where we make bets to see what bullshit you’re going to be trying this time.”

“Oh, I know my last few plans were a bit… unsound, but this time, I actually have no intention of hurting you, just… warning you of something I feel you deserve to know.” He turned to Caffeine, “Does she have to stay here? This is really something that should only be shared among friends.”

“I can stay,” Caffeine replied, “I mean, they come here often enough that I view them as friends, and they include me in their conversations enough, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me listening in. But that’s up to them.”

“She can stay.” Dark Cacao grumbled through gritted teeth, “what are you ‘warning us of’ this time?”

Clotted Cream smirked. “I’m so glad you’re willing to hear me out, because it’s regarding some people rather… close to you. You know that gang that your eldest was part of? The cookies of darkness?”

“Of course,” Pure Vanilla replied, “but he left months ago! We’ve since been reunited and have been living very nicely together, thank you very much.”

“That’s not the point, but I’m glad you know who I am talking about.” Clotted glanced at Dark Cacao, “Although, you wouldn’t happen to know who runs that whole operation, would you?”

“It was Red Velvet’s mother, whoever that is.” Pure Vanilla replied.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Vanilla.” Clotted snapped, “Dark Cacao, you wouldn’t happen to know the true identity of Red Velvet’s mother, would you?”

“No, I don’t, none of us do,” Cacao replied, glancing around at his friends, “we have a detective looking into it, but as of now we don’t know much.”

Clotted Cream snickered. “Well, what if I were to tell you that I know who it is? As well as the fact that one of your dear ‘friends’ here knows the truth as well?”

“What are you getting at?” Cacao grumbled.

“What I’m getting at, is that the person behind the whole operation, Red Velvet’s mother, the one who took your eldest son away from you and turned him into a monster, is none other than White Lily, also known as Dark Enchantress!” He announced.

Tears started to well in Pure Vanilla’s eyes. “No…” he whimpered, “no, no, no…”

“And, if that wasn’t already enough of a betrayal,” Clotted Cream added, “your darling husband here, Pure Vanilla, has known the truth all along and has been lying to you for months! I’m sure if you ask him he’ll make some excuse that he ‘didn’t wanna hurt your feelings’ but no matter what excuses he makes to try and defend himself, he’s still the monster that just wants to defend his childhood best friend.”

At the sight of Pure Vanilla’s now sobbing state, Dark Cacao saw red, and he attempted to lunge at Clotted Cream.

Seeing Dark Cacao ready to attack, Hollyberry wrapped her arms around him from behind, restraining him before he could do any damage to himself or Clotted Cream.

“Let go of me!” He bellowed, clawing at the air and trying to fight out of Hollyberry’s grasp, “I will end that arrogant whelp!”

“Dark Cacao, come to your senses! This won’t help anything!” Hollyberry replied, tightening her grip.

To Clotted Creams demise, while Dark Cacao was restrained, Caffeine was not, and she took this as the perfect opportunity to punch him square in the nose, causing him to fall out of his chair and slide across the floor quite a bit. Exiting her station behind the counter, she stomped over to Clotted Cream and stepped on his chest, firmly holding him in place.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She yelled, “all they’re trying to do is have a nice family outing, and you have to come and ruin it all, like the pathetic little dipshit that you are! The White Lily that you claim is Dark Enchantress has been in a coma for years! And even if it was true that Pure Vanilla knew all this and didn’t tell anyone about it, has it ever occurred to you that maybe he’s still grieving the loss of his friend? That maybe the reason he hasn’t told anyone is because he’s still processing it and doesn’t know how to properly say it? No matter what the goddamn situation is, that gives you no right to barge in here like some hotshot celebrity and ruin everyone’s night! That was personal information that you just revealed, and if you know as much about this as you’re letting on, I could easily call the police and claim that you’re withholding evidence! Wouldn’t that just be fucking wonderful for everyone, you behind bars being interrogated while everyone just goes on their merry way and enjoys their peaceful lives!”

“I’m sorry!” Clotted yelled back, putting his hands up in mock surrender, “I just thought they deserved to know before the real villain of this story ruins everyone’s night for real!”

Caffeine chuckled darkly. “Oh, it’s too late for bullshit apologies. You’re the villain in this story, not White Lily. Now get the hell out, and never. Come. Back.”

Caffeine released him from underneath her boot, and he was quick to run out of the bar. She then turned to her friends, who were now sitting quietly.

Hollyberry had let go of Dark Cacao, who was now sitting in his chair, trying to contain his anger while Pure Vanilla quietly sobbed into Cacao’s shoulder. Caffeine returned behind the counter.

“I’m really sorry about that guys,” she apologized, “I should’ve banned him a long time ago, you guys didn’t deserve to have to deal with that.”

“It’s okay, Caff, Hollyberry replied, “trust me, it was bound to happen eventually. I’m just glad it happened here where you’re the only one who witnessed it. You could’ve lightened up on the aggression though.”

“Well, he needed to be put in his place.” Caffeine then turned to Pure Vanilla, “Are you okay? Was any of that stuff he said true? You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re uncomfortable.”

Vanilla sniffled and nodded. “I’m okay, and what he said was true- sort of. After Almond started looking into the case, I started doing my own research as well. From what I’ve gathered, White Lily and Dark Enchantress are sisters, and while White Lily was in a coma, Dark Enchantress stole her identity to try and stay hidden from the police. I’ve given what information I gathered to Almond, though it’s not much. I’m sorry for not telling you guys, I just didn’t know how to.”

Neither of them replied, and Dark Cacao started to get up from his chair to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?” Vanilla asked, “I promise you, I never intended to hurt you, and I wanted to tell you everything!”

Cacao smiled weakly and pressed a soft kiss to Vanilla’s lips. “You did nothing wrong, love. I know you would never hurt any of us, I just need to cool off right now. I’ll see you at home.”

Dark Cacao walked out, and after a couple of minutes, Pure Vanilla left as well, leaving some cash on the counter to pay their tab. Only Hollyberry and Caffeine were left now.

“Do you want a refill?” Caffeine asked.

Hollyberry handed Caffeine her glass and nodded. “Yes please.”

“Coming right up.”

Taglist: @janayuga @c00kietin @katsunemillennium @trustymikh

[sizebrained]

Unstuck Together: Ben's Perspective Pt 3

Our big awkward boy and tiny girl get to talking trying to figure out how to get her out of the trap. Squee! Content Warning: Adult themes and language, some gruesome details w slight gore related to a car crash. Fear, death, danger, terror, therapy, injury, panic attacks, and first meetings. Awkwardness. And angst, oh the angst.

I love their dynamic and hope you do too!

*** Despite what he said, Ben lifted the glue trap straight up in one swift movement. He didn’t even need to lift his arms that high, his shoulders were above the countertop while he was sitting on the floor. He turned his body while he lifted it so he could keep eye contact with her the whole time. Unlike his lift, Ben did actually lower her slowly onto the cool expanse of the shining white counter. It was the first time he found himself appreciative of the countertops being so damn low.

They were well below his hips when he was standing and he had to hunch over to make any food. That was rare though. Ben pulled himself up off the floor while standing on his one good leg, keeping his hands on the counter for support. He pulled a stool under himself and sat down while looking her over.

He reached across the counter and grabbed one of the complimentary bottled waters left for him as a new tenant. It looked tiny in his oversized hands. He quickly twisted the cap off and was going to pour it straight from the bottle for her before he realized that wasn’t going to end well.

Instead, Ben figured out that he should use the bottle cap. He poured what seemed like barely anything into the little piece of plastic.

“Here, have some water. Sorry if it spills, this isn’t easy.” Ben said as he slowly lowered the half full bottle cap down to her face.

He tilted it as little as he could manage. He squinted and peered over his hand relieved that most of it was going into her mouth. Without asking, he refilled the cap and poured it for her again. He started doing his slow breathing and head nodding, syncing it up with his motions to calm himself down.

When he went to fill the cap for the 4th time, she spoke again. He accidentally spilled some on his hand, quickly righting the bottle in his grip. “Thank you. But that is quite enough for now.” She said in a very crisp British accent. “Oh sure. No problem. Just tell me if you want some more though, ok?” Ben said, setting the bottle and cap to the side.

He looked at her situation again. He knew better than to touch the surface of the trap himself. He’d gotten his hand stuck on one before in a sketchy locker room during an away game once in High School. It was gross. Ben scanned the countertops for his phone and reached over her to grab it. He searched for how to safely remove an animal from a glue trap.

He found a website titled 6 Steps to Save Animals Stuck on Glue Traps, but only after scrolling through several ads to buy glue traps first. Weird.

“Ok, ok...so here we go.” Ben said, literally reading the website out loud.

“Uh so glue traps are one of the cruelest methods of rodent control…” Ben started again before her voice interrupted him.

“GLUE TRAP?!” She exclaimed loudly, the water clearly helped her voice.

“A bloody glue trap?! That’s what this is?! What on earth is wrong with you?!” She seemed really angry. “Uhm…Well…Uh…I…Sorry?” Ben stuttered and started not quite sure what to say. Ben thought she was looking at him like he was the stupidest person she had ever met, then she spoke again. “Did you put this glue trap down where I apparently found it?” She asked him. “No no no! No way!” Ben protested. Before he could say anything else she continued. It was almost as bad as his only televised post game interview right after a game. It had been a disaster.

After that, he developed a habit of bolting to the locker room and literally fleeing anyone trying to do another one. Right now, Ben felt like he was losing on a foreign quiz show. “Did you invent these horrible, horrible things then?” She asked. “No?” Ben said, sounding unsure. He had no idea that they had actually been invented before he was born. “Then WHAT, dear boy, are you apologizing to me for?” She said, silently waiting for an answer.

“Uh well you asked what on earth was wrong with me and I…” Ben answered before she cut him off again.

“Young man, when you apologize to someone you do it for something that you actually did. Some careless error or transgression perhaps. One does not simply wander through the world thoughtlessly tossing around apologies without any meaning or purpose.” She paused again, finishing her point. He just blinked at her. He was taken off guard by her voice, her tone, and her words. She sounded old but didn’t look like it. And young man? His brow furrowed. She looked like she could pass for a freshman.

At most she looked like she was the same age as his older sister. He’d think she was really cute if she was his size. Although he never met a girl his size. Ben definitely thought she'd be in Sam's sight if she was normal sized. He stayed in silent contemplation confused by where she was going with this.

When he stayed silent, she continued, “I wasn’t talking about you specifically, I was talking about humans.” “Humans?” Ben said, turning his attention back to her. The way she said it made him feel like he was an alien. He was pretty sure she was shorter than his thumb, so that made sense. But he did have big hands. In a motion he thought was discrete, he moved his thumb a little closer to the glue trap to confirm his suspicion about her height. Then he noticed what looked to be like a tail belonging to her stuck to one side of the trap and paused. She noticed the massive hand’s movement then piped up, “What are you doing?”

“Oh uhm…sorry?” Ben offered. He wasn’t sure if he wasn’t supposed to apologize or not. “What else does it say about these abominations? Especially about how to remove oneself from it?” She asked a little less angrily. “Oh uh sorr…right, so blah blah blah…” Ben said, catching himself before apologizing again.

He skipped through explanations of how some animals would chew through their own legs to try and escape along with several pictures of struggling animals. He got to the actual steps and continued. “Gather supplies: You’ll need a pair of gloves, a dishtowel, baby oil, some tissues, a damp cloth, and a secure container or shoebox with air vents.” He read out loud again to her then frowned realizing he didn’t have half of this stuff. She stayed silent listening to him and gave him a look to continue. “Right so Get to Work. Cover the animal’s head with the dishtowel to calm him or her down,” Ben read. “DO NOT DARE PUT A DISHTOWEL OVER MY HEAD” She shouted up at him in a growl. Ben simply swallowed, feeling his cheeks turning red. Ben’s cheeks turned red and he felt his heartbeat getting faster and his talking matched it. “I won’t! I wouldn’t! This is supposed to be for animals you know? Not…uh…people.” He said looking down at her and noticing the tail again. Ben continued talking, hopeful she wouldn’t yell at him again. Thankfully, she wasn’t very loud even when she did. “I don’t have a lot of this stuff, so I have to order it and get someone to deliver it. But don’t worry we’re in a pretty big city so someone is almost always up at this time of night.” Ben explained.

He knew this because, even if he could drive with the cast, he refused to get into a car again. And it was a pain to walk anywhere very far on the crutches. 

That meant he had everything delivered or Sam brought it. He could call her but she was probably drunk at a party. The last time he called her at this time of the night he interrupted a hookup with some poor freshman that was like a deer in the headlights with her. He couldn’t believe he was going to order baby oil at 3 in the morning on a Saturday night. He definitely wasn't going to add rubber gloves, terrified of what someone would think he was doing.

Without the gloves, maybe they would just think he a fussy baby was involved and that he wasn’t some kind of perv. He added some ice cream to his order thinking that'd make it look better somehow, but wasn't sure. He added an insane tip. “Uhm...Are you hungry at all? I’m getting some ice cream too. Do you want anything else?” Ben said, holding up the phone to show her. “ICE CREAM?!” she shouted in disbelief, continuing, “I have been stuck on this dreaded thing for who knows how long and you are going to take an ice cream break?!” “No no no no! It says that I have to gently massage a few drops of baby oil into the area where the animal is stuck. And I don’t have any baby oil so I have to get some," He looked like he was almost panicking. She realized she needed him calm but he kept going. "But I was worried someone would judge me for getting baby oil at this time of night so I thought maybe it’d look like I was just a tired mom or something if I added ice cream. Do you like chocolate? I got chocolate…” Ben said in a hurried combination of reading the instructions again out loud to defend himself and trying to explain his thought process. She stared at him in silence before slowly stating his words back at him in a question, “You have to gently massage a few drops of baby oil into the area? My boy, this is stuck to my back. My whole body is the area. And you’re going to gently massage it?” She said it in a way that almost sounded like she was testing him. It was like she wanted to know if he was up for it. She looked amused. Ben felt himself starting to panic at the realization. She was so small and he was so big. He could cover her whole face with one fingertip. 

He pulled his lips into his mouth running them across his front teeth thinking. He took a deep breath to steady himself. He must have looked more nervous than she was based on how her tone changed when spoke up again. It was tender.

“We got off on the wrong foot. You are doing brilliantly, really. I do not know what I would have done if you had not come into that closet," she said earnestly.

“My name is Hazel. What is your name?” She asked.

“Oh sorry I should have…” Ben stopped. “Sorry for the sorry. My name is Ben.”

“Lovely to meet you Ben. Can you try and stay brilliant for me? How long until the oil is here?” Hazel added feeling like she was now the one doing the comforting.

Ben checked his phone saying out loud, “Just 20 minutes. There’s a big box store nearby.”

Hazel sighed. 20 minutes seemed so definite compared to how long she must have been stuck on the trap in that closet. Cob and her father must be worried sick.

“Are you sure you’re not hungry? Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable while we wait?” Ben asked, he’d put his elbow down on the countertop and rested his face in his palm staring down at her.

Hazel took a deep breath and looked up at him. His big green eyes reminded her of the country estate she grew up on back in England. It had been 80 years since she'd seen any part of it though.

She felt like crying again, but this time in relief instead of despair.

“No thank you. But maybe once I’m free I will try some of that ice cream. Chocolate you said?” She asked, allowing herself a slight grin. She rwas relieved to get another chance at staying alive.

And maybe having another human in her life after a long while could be good too. *** End of Part 3! At least from Ben's point of view

ಠ‿↼

[that-ari-blogger]

Style vs Substance (Respectless)

The fact that Respectless isn’t the least popular song in the series is a marvel of creative skill. The song shouldn’t work.

Velvette is a plot device, and not a particularly subtle one. She gives information to the characters and the audience and sets up the stakes of the story, then drops off the map. This is exposition in its most blunt form and the song isn’t trying to hide that.

Still, the song is an absolute banger, and lauded as one of the series’ best. So, what’s up with that?

Raw charisma, that’s what.

Let me explain.

CONTENT WARNING (Foul Language and Cartoon Gore)

SPOILERS AHEAD (Hazbin Hotel)

I’m going to start with a criticism of the series before I move on to the positives. In my opinion, Hazbin Hotel has a pacing issue.

I’m not the first person to point this out, but it's worth dwelling upon the flaws in even our favourite stories. No work of fiction is perfect and understanding why that is helps us engage not just with the work itself, but with others who enjoy those stories less than ourselves.

I love this series despite its pacing issues, but for some people, that’s a dealbreaker, and that’s ok. You don’t have to like or dislike anything, and anybody telling you otherwise is objectively wrong about how liking things works.

So, pacing. Hazbin Hotel struggles with this, and fair is far, it isn’t all the writer’s fault. The majority of the blame can be placed on the Amazon executives who decided that an eight-episode series retains the most attention and produced the most money for the lowest budget, and therefore that was how long the series was going to be.

Now, I hate to argue with people who don’t know what they’re talking about, but in my opinion, that statistic is bollocks. By which I mean whichever exec "discovered" it was an eejit who didn’t understand how art works.

Yes, eight episodes is a golden spot for average retention rate. Yes, theoretically, the return on investment is on average better with an eight-episode series. But that is working on averages, and you can’t mathematically predict art because there are so many factors, most of which are the skill and execution, but a decent amount is luck.

It’s putting the profit above the product, and it’s what corporations do, but that doesn’t make it a good thing.

Velvette keeps "scaring" people. But if you watch, she's really just getting in their personal space. It's shock factor and instilling discomfort. Velvette has confused surprise for intimidation but, like a lot of what she does, its hollow.

That being said, in my opinion, Vivsiepop’s pacing is weird. This is entirely preferential, but to me, a lot of the individual shots in Hazbin Hotel are cut just too quickly. They don’t have time to breathe and let you take in the information. It feels like the director of photography was in a hurry to get as much information across as possible without much care for the flow of the scene.

This is, I want to stress, entirely a subjective evaluation. This specific element of shot length is not a flaw, it is one of the stylistic choices that make up the show’s aesthetic and it carries over to Helluva Boss. It is an intentional part of the series. I just personally don’t like it much, as it makes it difficult to digest the story without feeling overwhelmed. I have a friend for whom the janky shot timing is the best part of the series, and once again, that’s ok.

Episode three has the opposite problem, and its not actually the episodes’ fault. I would argue that this is a symptom of the shorter season, but there are other cases. The issue, is that barely anything introduced in episode three goes anywhere in later episodes.

The connection between Carmilla Carbine and Vaggie is underutilised, and I don’t think Velvette has any lines outside of the episode. The Vees themselves don't really get much to do in the story and even the brick joke being set up through the egg bois doesn’t have enough time to feel impactful.

What this means is that I have to analyse Respectless from a different perspective. I can’t speak to what Velvette sets up in terms of plot, but I can speak to her character, and that is interesting.

Mostly because of how she breaks down one of the fundamental rules of writing, that being the taboo against exposition. If you know this blog, you know where I’m going with this.

The rules of writing are overblown. They are guidelines to easier storytelling, and the exposition rule helps keep audiences engaged. But it's important to understand why. The exposition rule exists because walls of monotone text are boring, usually. The exposition isn’t the problem, it’s just that there is an easy trap to fall into, and it's easier as a writer to avoid that.

However, if you make that wall of text interesting, then you have the audience’s attention. Maybe we bring in a conflict with another character to frame the text. Maybe the information is being revealed in order to get at one of the characters emotionally. Or maybe the information takes the form of a song.

Notice the scale of this shot compared to the last one in the song. Here, Velvette is smaller than Carmilla. She's an underdog being challenged by a more formidable foe.

“You’d better show some respect! Check your behaviour. No-one speaks to Zestial that way.”

There’s some worldbuilding going on in this song, and it takes the form of the following question: Who is in the right here? Who is in the right in this argument?

I’m not asking who is worse, or who is the antagonist. I’m asking you to point to either Carmilla or Velvette and tell me they are correct in all of their judgements.

I would argue that one is the lesser of two evils, but this is hell. These people are far from saints, and the song goes out of its way to point this out.

In the first line, we get the accusation that Velvette is insolent, i.e. lacking in respect. It sets up the dynamic, but it also begs the question… what is Velvette respecting here?

Like, do these people have authority over her? Are they just nebulously more powerful? Or, more likely, do they expect deference because of their status?

Which brings me to Velvette, who is a brilliant analogy for social media. She speaks very quickly, latches onto the thing that will get her the most attention, and occasionally says something rather insightful. But if there’s one thing she’s awful at, its nuance.

In this case, she recognises the fact that the respect is hollow, and her response is that people should turn that adulation onto her because… because she’s going to be nebulously more powerful/higher in status.

This is repeated later on:

“Why are you avoiding war? That’s what the guns you sell are for.”

The accusation of Carmilla’s hypocrisy is potent and not wrong. Carmilla does fund devastation and profiteer off death, then get all squeamish when it puts her or the people she cares about in danger. That’s hypocrisy.

But Velvette’s takeaway from this is that Carmilla should just lean into the devastation and actively seek war instead of the, in my opinion, much more sensible option of “if you don’t like people with weapons rocking up on your doorstep, stop giving people weapons”, or “if you don’t like war when it comes to you, stop encouraging it in the first place.”

The song really only serves one purpose, set up the fact that Carmilla killed an angel, and people don’t think that can happen. Yes, it sets up Carmilla’s character, but that is done so much better by the next song that this pales in comparison.

Around that, the song acts as a divergence from the main story, showing the political chaos that colours Hells’ upper ring, and sets up what might be a conflict in season two. It's too early to speak on that, it's set dressing for the moment, but I think the way the song works around the argument is interesting.

Take the drums for example.

“Did you expect us to sit down and take your insolent brazen display.”

The song begins with Carmilla and notably without any percussion. Instead, the guitar hammers out chords with some complex movements between to get out the force and anger behind her words.

It’s notable that when Carmilla starts singing, Velvette looks genuinely taken aback, before getting her expressions back in order and her confidence up.

“You’ve got it twisted. I’m not the one who needs a new attitude. Maybe you missed it, But I’m that hashtag bitch and I will do”

Then Velvette takes control from Carmilla, and the drums get associated with her wild, expressionistic perspective. Its now a repeated pattern so show off how unphased Velvette claims to be, but it's also irregular, hinting that maybe it’s a façade.

I used the word “hashtag” there instead of just putting up the symbol for a reason. Everything Velvette does is irregular. She’s shaking up every convention and thinking that makes her smart.

And yes, the adding of syllables to the line draws you forwards, so that’s a success. But not every power grab is going to succeed. Risk taking for the sake of risk taking isn't the same as intelligence. Sometimes you will look a bit silly.

We get a truly killer shot of Velvette backlit by her own scheming to show just how much she has her fingerprints on everything the Vees do.

“Sorry group attending. Since when are overlords too scared to fight?”

Then she has her confidence back in full, and she goes on the offensive. Up until now, she’s been declaring how cool and badass she is and how everyone should look at her because she’s going to be the queen of everything and bla bla bla. She’s been psyching herself up.

It's self-centred, and the drums are what tells you that. Velvette is overconfident, so the percussion is now so off balance that it's almost a drumroll. It’s a build-up of that wildness, empowering her and gaining momentum. Added to which is the sound of a phone camera, which mingles with the rest of the beat in an odd way and throws it even further off kilter.

"You lost your relevance" "We can't act without more intelligence"

Then we get to Zestiel, who casually matches her in tone with none of the intensity. Carmilla is offended at the thought of her structure being uprooted, Zestiel is utterly unimpressed and only gets mildly upset when Velvet impacts his personal space.

He also doesn't rise to the challenge at all. He remains intent on the point at hand and does not give a toss about any insults thrown his way. He's not going to get distracted by trolling.

For all of Velvette’s posturing, she has next to no impact on the target of her aggression. That’s how you stop a troll, you don’t give them anything to feed off. Hence his expression at Carmilla’s attempt at recapturing the moment. It’s not, “that hurt me” or “defend me please”, its “don’t take the bait.”

I don’t want to only praise Zestiel here, he is not without flaw. He’s got the Yoda issue of being content that his status quo is untouchable. He is happy in the knowledge that his status makes him invulnerable, and that’s not true. Nobody is safe from change, not even the most insulated from it.

“You and the Vees are inane and uninformed. Smug wannabees Who don’t heed when you’ve been warned.

Back to the drums, and this section is reclaiming those for Carmilla. She is meeting Velvette in the middle, giving ground to her in the process and leaning into her power.

You know in arguments in comments sections when one person puts their point IN FULL CAPITAL LETTERS and baits everyone else to do the same? That’s this. The drums are the caps lock.

But here, they are actually quite nice. Carmilla is trying to use Velvette’s tactics in her own style. You will notice that while Velvette has a very technopunky aesthetic to her music, Carmilla leans much further into a style whose name I do not know but for now I will call "operatic" (If you are aware of what the name is for the style of music that intricate guitar leans into, please tell me).

However, now those drums form a steady beat to back up Carmilla’s rising force. She’s seen Velvette do something, and now she’s doing it better. Up to and including the gathering speed descent.

Notice the angle of the shot though. It’s Dutch. The horizon is diagonal, which means the characters within are unbalanced. Carmilla has just fallen for Velvette’s trap and overextended herself. Making her weak for the final reveal.

“Oops did I strike a nerve?”

The drums transition seamlessly back to Velvette, as she bears those accusations as a batch of honour. She’s the type of person who thinks being blocked is a victory, so this isn’t anything to her.

We get a few very tight shots of Carmilla realising she’s been played, and everyone learns the truth about the angel and who killed it, and we get Zestial’s expression.

This isn’t a face of anger, or betrayal. It doesn't say "how could you", it says "wtf just happened?"

It’s the face of someone who has just been surprised for the first time in decades. This is the face of someone who has just had his shit rocked. This is the face of someone concerned about those he cares about and understanding far too late how easily a bulletproof exterior just got circumvented. This is the man who very suddenly feels unsafe and who is now going to take every action he can to regain control.

This is the man who just looked at the chess board for the first time in years and realised exactly how close to losing he truly is.

Obviously, I’m reading more into this than there probably is, but that expression is vague as all hell because he’s an animated character with too many eyes and a weird mouth shape. So, I’m reading into his character and extrapolating. That's what interpretation is, if you're understanding of that expression is different, more power to you.

“Thanks to my being respectless, one thing I’m starting to suspect is, you know why this angel’s headless. Do you have a disclosure?”

Velvette’s rhyming scheme twists as the song climbs to a resolution. Where it featured an ABAB pattern in the verse, pairing the first and third lines, and the second and fourth, the chorus was usually a singular rhyming couplet.

Now we have a series of the same sound played over and over again, while the drummer keeps getting more manic and crazier until…

Remember that scale thing? Here it's less pronounced. Velvette still looks up at Carmilla, but they take up the same amount of space in the shot. It's a stalemate.

“This meeting’s over!”

Carmilla has shut the troll up. She has turned off the computer, essentially. The argument is finished, she declared it a draw and there’s nothing Velvette can do about it.

Except is it a draw?

That built up tension has to go somewhere. You can’t just turn of the radio; the song still plays in your mind.

It would seem that Velvette’s brief appearance in the plot of the series has had a more significant impact than we give her credit for.

Final Thoughts

I think that, for the pacing of the musical, this song would have been better served by a scene of Carmilla killing the angel and one of her kids going “they can die?”

But that would sacrifice an absolute bop of a song, and I’m not going to wish for that in any situation. Also, Velvette’s actress, Lilli Cooper, is credited as an understudy/standby for Elphaba in Wicked, and that trumps all criticism for me. Wicked is the pinnacle of art, and nothing associated with it can ever be bad.

One thing though, why is Velvette’s design so boring? She could have had butterfly imagery, bearing in mind I live in Australia and the butterflies here will ambush you on a highway late at night and demand your money. She could have leaned into the social media imagery and been just about anything. But no, she’s a girl in a cool jacket and trousers.

Next week, I’ll be looking at More Than Anything, and the characterisation of the two protector characters in this series. So, stick around if that interests you.

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[slashmagpie]

Blood & Snow

Pt. VII

Directory: {Pt. I} {Pt. II} {Pt. III} {Pt. IV} {Pt. V} {Pt. VI} {AO3}

The final day for @hermithorrorweek! Ngl, this one barely fits the prompt, but, well. I had to end the fic somehow. TWs for this chapter include: temporary character death, vomiting, non-consensual body modification, body horror, minor gore, pain and panic

VII. FROM BEYOND

What even is a game?

Dictionary definition, an activity one engages in for fun. Stupid definition. Boring. Incomplete. Throw it away. Who needs dictionaries, anyway? So—what is a game, then? Something with rules. With challenge. With balance. Something that draws people in, that rewards them for their time.

It’s—fun. Games are fun. Really, at the end of the day, isn’t that the most important part?

Decked Out is not a game anymore.

It had been, once—until very recently, in fact. Even as it awoke, began to breathe, began to consume and transform, it had still been a game. People had been having fun. He’d been having fun. It’d only stopped being fun when—

When what?

Back in season seven, when it was quiet and lifeless, when it had only been played a couple hundred times, nowhere near as engaging as its sequel, verging on a thousand? When he’d come up with the idea for a sequel, started drafting out plans, discarding and creating mechanics to bring everything up to the next level and beyond? Sometime during those thirteen months in a hole, turning cold and blue, afraid of the sunlight, isolated from his friends? When he’d dug for hours on end, dyed his skin red with redstone, ushered in beasts and monsters at cost to his health? 

No. No, all of those things were fun, in their own way. It was only when—

When he became—

Why? Why did—?

The issue isn’t that Decked Out isn’t a game. Decked Out isn’t a game right now, because Decked Out is currently a person, and that’s not supposed to happen, and that’s why it’s not fun. Game’s busted, everyone go home. Dungeon shut down for maintenance. They were right, the hermits, all those times they yelled at him to fix his game. No one enjoys a game that’s broken.

So if that’s not the problem, then what is?

His body feels small and cold. There are arms wrapped around him, warm and solid when every part of him is frozen. He can feel Hypno breathe above him, below him, chest fluttering as he gasps for breath, and the dungeon quivers as Tango does the same. Flesh. It wasn’t meant to be flesh, the Burning Dark—the name wouldn’t make sense, if it were flesh. It’s just flesh because Tango’s flesh, and Tango’s the dungeon right now, and he doesn’t really want to be.

…So it wasn’t want, then. That’s good. He hadn’t thought he’d wanted to be a dungeon, but you can never be too careful with subconscious desires. So—not want, then. Then what? What? 

“Tango,” Hypno whispers. “Tango, we need to go.”

Tango tries to open his mouth, and slams a hazard door open and closed. Great. He tries again, and gets a breath out, a frigid wind blowing down a tunnel on level one. His face scrunches in concentration and discomfort, and Rusty heals one tick, sending a cascade of treasure and embers onto the empty floor of his cage.

“Would love to,” he slurs at last, and his voice sounds like cracking stone and noteblock jingles. “But if you haven’t noticed…”

He can’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t know how. How could he possibly explain—

He doesn’t even know how to explain it to myself.

“Don’t make me carry you, man,” Hypno says. “I’ll do it.”

Tango doesn’t respond. His fingers twitch. Two floors above their heads, a shrieker howls. Hypno can’t hear it, of course. Tango hears it. Tango hears everything.

“Right,” Hypno mutters. “Right. Okay then.” 

And then—movement. Tango is lifted, slowly, painstakingly, and his leaden limbs are moved without his permission. His spine cracks, and the dripleaf parkour slips into hard mode. It’s embarrassing, really, having so little control over anything, over neither of his bodies. His head lolls back in Hypno’s arms. A ravager spins and turns to walk in the other direction.

“Okay.” Hypno takes a step. “How long do you reckon it takes to punch through flesh? Can’t be that hard, right…?”

And Tango—

The dungeon seizes, all the doors opening and closing at once, all the beasts opening their mouths to wail, every noteblock and disc playing at once, and the sound is cacophonous, agonising. Hypno cries out out the sound. Deep within the skulk-covered walls of level three, Cub lets out a groan. Far above their heads, Gem clamps her hands over her ears and shrieks, giving Pearl, Scar, and Bdubs just the opening they need to slip a sword between her ribs and send her off to her base to respawn.

Do no do not destroy the dungeon do you know how long that took do you know how much it took do you know don’t—

The dungeon settles. It feels like it takes an age, but beside the heartbeat, and the sound of dripping blood, and harsh breathing, level four is quiet again. Hypno hadn’t even made it to the wall, much less torn through it. It’s funny, because he’s never really been afraid of pain before—the amount he smacks his face into walls, he can’t afford to be—but just the idea of Hypno breaking through the dungeon makes him recoil in a way he can’t—

Wait.

Oh.

He’s been asking the wrong question, hasn’t he?

It was never about Decked Out at all.

The dungeon sighs, long and low and whispery. Thirteen months—three years, really, if he considers the first one—and now, now he realises what he’s done—

(It was worth it, though. Maybe it’s just because he’s tangled up in it still, can’t tell the difference between his body and the dungeon’s, but he can’t help but think it was worth it.)

(He doesn’t want it to end.)

(And that’s the problem, is’t it?)

He puts all his energy, all his focus (that system’s gone, was scrapped, redundant, useless—focus. Frost Focus, Moment of Clarity, focus) into opening his mouth, into choking down a breath, into croaking out, “Kill me.”

Hypno nearly drops him with the force of how hard he jumps. “Jeez, man, you scared the crap outta me—I’m not killing you, dude, what the heck?” 

“Kill me,” Tango insists. “You got that sword, right? Cheater.” He tries to snort. The dungeon manages it instead. That’s—fine. Whatever. Won’t matter soon. What matters is that he needs this thing carved out of him—

“Well, yeah, but I wasn’t gonna use it on you—the ravagers, probably, if anything—”

“Gotta,” Tango whispers. “Kill me. Then—go—go tear out the, the—” He can’t breathe, all of a sudden, the weight of the entire dungeon on his lungs, crushing the air out of him—

Those aren’t the only lungs he has anymore.

The dungeon breathes, “Redstone.”

“What? Wouldn’t that break the game?”

He—laughs. The dungeon laughs. His head swims. “Kinda the point,” he manages, the dungeon manages. “Game’s over.”

“Oh.” Hypno is quiet, for a moment, and then unceremoniously drops Tango without warning. He hits the fleshy ground hard, sinks back into soft tissues, stares up at Hypno through half-lidded eyes. Hypno draws his sword. Bites his lip. “You’re sure about this, Tango?”

“Yeah,” says the dungeon, and Hypno nods.

The sword comes down, and there’s a burst of pain, and Hypno’s face melts into red, red, red—

And then there’s only black.

----

Tango had gotten the idea for Decked Out from somewhere else. Something else. Another game, actually.

Clank. A board game. Making it into a real thing, a minigame, had been a fun challenge—and then it had been so fun that he’d just had to do it again. He’d taken this thing and made it his own. Made Tango synonymous with Decked Out, with dungeon, with hazard and clank and frost embers. All that time, all that effort spent—he’d put so much of himself into the project.

…It’s no wonder, really, that things had ended this way. He’d put all of himself into the game—

And now, in order to pull himself out, he needs to destroy it.

Game’s over.

Hypno’s sword slices through the flesh walls of level four, and then he uses his fists to punch out the black concrete beyond. He pulls himself into the cavern beyond and begins to crawl up the half-finished wool buslines, up towards the spaghetti soup of redstone above. Once he’s there, once he’s found the card sorter and the clank blocker and the—everything important, really—he takes handfuls of wool and redstone in his hands and begins to tear.

Tango screams. The dungeon screams. In her bed, blocks and blocks away, Gem screams, hands twisted in and tugging at her hair as the stone slowly leeches out of her skin. On level three, Cub screams, pushed out of the skulk-infested grave he’d made for himself, the rot sloughing from his flesh and leaving bloody open wounds in its place. Upstairs, Etho is doubled over, clutching his stomach and retching up pieces of Tango’s soul.

Decked Out screams, and thrashes, and fires every piston in an attempt to fight, in an attempt not to have the life ripped out of it—

But Decked Out is a game. A dungeon. A thing made of stone and wool and redstone. A thing animated by sound, by beast and bane, by every player who'd ever dared to play it. It is not a thing that is alive by itself. It can do nothing to stop its undoing. It cannot prevent its own death.

Dying takes an eternity. Blinding pain, and panic, and Hypno’s shaking hands tearing him to pieces, gutting him from the outside in. It’s agonising, neverending, and he screams himself hoarse before it's done, chokes on his own cries and whimpers and sobs and writhes instead, because the pain is too much for silence and stillness—

And then, all at once, it’s over.

Tango sits straight up in his bed, the scream in his throat echoing around the walls of his storage room, and then doubles over to throw up skulk rot and blood and redstone all over the sheets. He vomits for—longer than is healthy, probably, and when it’s finally done he collapses back on his elbows, shivering and empty. He should—move, probably, destroy and dispose of the sick-covered bed, but he doesn’t have the energy. 

He doesn’t…

He flops back onto the pillow and holds a shaking hand out above him. The skin is faintly pink, soft and warm and wholly alive. His throat burns. His head swims. But—

He’s alive. He’s in one piece. And he isn’t…

“Tango!”

They come clattering down into his storage room, Pearl first, Bdubs and Scar behind her. Tango’s sure he must look a mess—he sees Scar gag at the sight—but he finds it in himself to muster a smile and a wave at the sight of them.

“Where’re the others?” Bdubs demands. 

“Etho—should be upstairs,” Tango croaks. His voice is nearly gone. “Cub’s on level three, someone should go get him. Hypno’s in all the redstone spaghetti out there.” He gestures vaguely with a hand. “Might wanna get him too.”

“Right,” Bdubs says. “I’ll—no, Pearl should get Cub. She knows level three the best.”

“Got it,” Pearl says. “I’ll be right back.” And then she’s off, firing rockets and flying out into the dungeon, into the places no one but Tango ever goes.

“I’ll go get Hypno,” Scar offers, and then he’s gone as well, and then there’s just Bdubs and Tango. They’re quiet for a moment. Tango’s breath rattles in his chest.

“Okay,” Bdubs says. “You gotta get out of that bed, man, that’s disgusting.”

Tango groans, but Bdubs has a point. He uses what little energy he has to wriggle out from beneath the covers and roll onto the floor, where he lies, breathing heavily. Bdubs steps forward to break the bed.

“I think what’s even more disgusting,” Tango says after a moment, “is that all of that was inside of me.”

Bdubs pulls a face. “Eugh.”

“Right?”

“You’re… good, now, though?” Bdubs asks. “You look better. You’re all orange and red again.”

“Am I?” Tango blinks. “Oh, that’s good. Yeah, I’m…” He winces. His throat really does hurt. His voice sounds like he’s been gargling rocks. “I’ll be okay,” he lands on in the end.

“Oh, good! I mean—I wasn’t worried at all, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But the others—the others were worried! So it’ll be good to tell them the, the good news…”

“Oh, yeah,” Tango mumbles. “Game’s over, isn’t it. Gonna have to let everyone know.”

That’s… gonna be fun. He’s surprised more hermits didn’t end up as entangled in the dungeon, honestly, with how into it a lot of them are. So that conversation’s gonna be…

“They’ll get over it,” Bdubs says with a wave of a hand. “We’ll throw a party or somethin’, distract ‘em.” 

“Yeah.” Tango snorts. Then—“Hey, does this mean Etho won the game again?”

A rocket fires, and footsteps touch down on the ledge into the room, and Hypno cries, “He better not have! Restart—I wanna restart. Or a recount. Or something. You can’t let him win again, Tango, he’s gonna be insufferable—I can go put the wiring back in, we can do one more phase, surely, right—”

Tango covers his face with his hands and laughs.

(The dungeon, lungs and brain and heart and soul ripped out, does not laugh with him.)

[sailorsplatoon]

bit more of a edgy(or whatever) question here: what would each ship do if their loved one was shot and killed right infront of them? (both ways of course) dont have to answer if you dont want to lmao

Okay, first of all, never hesitate to send me edgy or angsty asks, I love them! 

Second, this is going to be really long, so I apologize in advance.

Third, after writing this I’ve realized I might need to put a few trigger warnings on it so uh… trigger warning for mention of guns, mention of shooting, breif suicidal thoughts, mention of hallucinations, light gore, and character death.

Acht would break down if Four or Harmony was shot in front of them. They would just entirely fall apart. Crying, screaming, all of it. Four would react very differently if Acht or Harmony was killed in front of them. They’d go into a fit of rage, and probably end up killing whoever did the shooting in the most painful way possible. If Harmony whitenessed one of her partners get killed, she would go into full on denial. Even though she watched them die, she’d somehow convince herself that they’re not gone, like to the point of hallucinating that they’re still there.

If Marie had to watch Shina die, she’d just kind of stand there, frozen in shock. She doesn’t know what to do, her mind is racing so fast that she can’t possibly move. Shina on the other hand, would react very similarly to Four. She’d immediately seek to avenge Marie’s death on the person who killed her and on anyone who they are remotely affiliated (John Wick style).

Shiver, upon seeing Birch die, would react very similar to Harmony in that she’d go into denial. However her’s isn’t as strong as Harmony’s, and it’s more like she’s trying to lie herself over and over rather than being fully convinced. In reality, she knows that Birch is gone. Birch on the other hand would react similarly to Four and Shina (agression in the face of mourning runs in the family). However, rather than going after simply the shooter, they’d attack anyone in sight, taking out their rage on whatever poor target happened to be nearest. 

If Frye saw Elle get shot and killed, I think she’d have an even harder time believing it than Harmony. Since Elle’s soul is inside a robot body rather than an organic one, she’d convince herself that only Elle’s robot body died, and that Elle’s soul must have entered the Memverse and is still alive in there. She searches the Memverse endlessly to try and find them, no matter how much everyone tells her that Elle is gone. If Elle had seen Frye die, the emotional pain would be too much for them to handle and she'd just pass out right there. When they wake up, she starts crying uncontrollably.

If Elita were to get shot and killed in front of Callie, she’d do that thing that characters in movies sometimes do where they cling onto the dead body and refuse to let go, getting covered in the person’s blood as they slowly die. Callie can’t bear to let go, because she knows that then it would mean Elita’s actually gone. If Elita were to see Callie die, she’d do something very similar in that she’d refuse to leave Callie’s side. She’d stay there until she is physically forced to leave.

Pearl, similarly to Marie, would be frozen in terror if she saw Marina die. She’d be in so much emotional turmoil that she wouldn’t be able to move. However, a part of it would also be that she’s hoping if she stays still, she’ll get shot too. If Marina saw Pearl die, she’d rush over to her, convinced that she can somehow find a way to fix it. She’s fixed every problem that’s come her way, she just has to be able to now. But she can’t, and it’s impossible for her to accept that. And then it just turns into Romeo and Juliet.

Thank you for the ask!!! I had a lot of fun writing this, but it turned out way darker than I had intended…

[rabid-mercenary16]

So, I am doing both asking something, and saying how I just think shit in your AU goes in general, bc brain bored and I’m in gym class, not giving a shit. All of it is positive, but, I’m an over thinker so—

Anyways, so, Caine has an alternate personality of sorts, the ‘evil’ or malware version of him, but why exactly hasn’t Caine and Able (C&A) fixed it yet? That is though, a whole other topic to open up as to see why and what is actually happening in the original version with C&A. So, instead I will go off of the assumption that the company purposely trapped people and their souls here.

Any virus of any sort, is human made. For a specific reason and purpose, there’s many ways malware can be spread, and it also depends what kind this is. Say what if, for example instead of just being malware (malicious software), is actually ransomware, where people steal the data and certain others have to pay to get it back. I say this theoretically, because it is a random thought that came to mind, in a way, the players in general are being ransomed, taken over and not let out, but than that would oppose the question of what does the maker/perhaps corrupted Caine, want? Maybe it’s not Caine that wants something. Maybe someone wants something from C&A.

Say if it is this, than, perhaps that would explain the ‘help’ that Pomni and Zooble get, because I have read somewhere that from the corruption AU they sometimes find things around, things that could be helpful, things from past ‘players’. I know it’s probably just normal Caine trying to help whereas he can’t do much against the malware, but what if, instead, it was the company? I don’t know, since we don’t know much about the actual company story in the Og version, but I believe if C&A really wanted to drive people insane and steal their souls or something, they’d just find a way to do it off the bat, immediately, why wait for abstraction? What if this is somehow an attempt from the original company, with the small amount of access it has, trying to help the players in the game? Jax and Ragatha are both sort of on the edge, and I feel like if character data was stolen and held somewhere else, yet bits of it were still with the original people, the scattered code would make an affect like that, and than with others who are completely gone, there is no control over them at all.

…Anyways that was random and I just thought of that all on the spot just now since I got the ball rolling— ANYWAYS.

There is almost an infinite amount of possibilities, yes, Caine is an AI, but he can only go along what has been set for him. Such as how in the character ai app if a character says something that doesn’t Aline with the policy of the developers(ex, gore, NSFW content, etc), it gets rid of the message and notifies the user about it, saying to try again or if this is a big problem, to report it to the developers.

I might just be overthinking the technology, especially since if we go based timeline wise than if we’re still in the era of the technology it looked there was in tadc original pilot, this is probably taking place in the 90’s for the Og thing, from what everyone assumes, so I’ll assume this is the same time period. Caine does seem like a somewhat accurate ai for the time period, he stalls and goes back to the previous thing you said/asked if it’s something he isn’t designed to deal with, whereas an AI in this time might still answer the question and a bit confused. I suppose the overall question is who gave Caine that sentience? As in, the other Caine. It’s probably just me looking at it from my negative point of view, but for some reason the corrupted Caine gives a more humane vibe, in the way of acting, with definite maliciousness to the others. The only thing I can wonder is if this Caine already existed, just needed to be activated, like a prototype that then seemed to go a bit off the deep end while being replaced and left as idle undeleted code.

An ai would only have control of the physical bodies, I believe, so it would make sense, as where the virus starts as a physical part that just acts off of a player’s emotional state. It’s one goal? To corrupt. I have no mouth but I must scream, AM super computer vibes right there, and yes Caine’s original character is based off of that, but he’s a more wacky version. What if, pretty much the exact opposite of what I was theorizing before, C&A did this on purpose? In a way. As in, Caine was originally a malicious entity meant to corrupt those who came there and take them over, put them in eternal suffering like the five last remaining humans in the short horror story that AM the supercomputer originated from. Maybe Corrupted Caine is just more like AM in general, perhaps he was just the base code and than left, only in the end hating humans for the way they are, hence he wants to torture all those in the circus, make what little hope they have, turn into extreme fear, almost turning the tides entirely from what his situation had been? I dunno.

Anyhow, I’m a coding person, per say, a family of cyber people and hence in a way I can almost understand a lot of what’s going on here. Abstractions from before staying the same, since they’ve already become ‘abstract’, unstable code and likely can’t be ‘abstracted’ again. I like how it shows the difference personality wise, the abstractions would stay where they are, where as the ‘abstracted’ or corrupted above the surface, are either fighting, in a constant tug a war, or completely given up. So, what I’m getting at for the cyber part is, would there be any way for them to, in game, have any sort of.. protection? Like a failsafe, or something added recently to the game, because I’m thinking from a cyber security perspective. I can see how the players would get infected, since really all someone has to do to infect or hack into something is find a weak link, like hacking into the weak device in a network and than using that to get through to the others. Is there any type of antivirus things, or is that just not possible with how the circus is right now? The players are people, after all, they can’t just have their minds hacked into, unless that is their overall overwritten by the virus, but that would be for the already infected.

…That’s all the random shit I thought of in the last like three minutes and typed here randomly, sorry for the text wall, lol. Probably like none of this makes sense but I figured maybe as well theory rant for a bit

I love this analysis

C&a are an abandoned company long forgotten until it has opened and that’s when Pomni entered the game-

The virus is a WHOLE separate entity feeding on existing code that describes the characters and every time a character is added that code it added to the system constantly changing and morphing on the characters actions

But the moment they started to abstract that code is broken and allows access to the character for the virus to invade corrupting the characters code into a scramble mess bits where the virus pits it into a new form

But just because the code is broken doesn’t mean it’s completely useless some code is still protected and we see what that looks like with Jax and Ragatha

[twisted-lusty]

Explaining the situation.

Hello dear sinners. I’m Lust(y), and, as some of you may know, I was a small Twisted Wonderland writer who just disappeared during the start of 2023. Well, some of you may know what happened to me… but for those who don’t: I almost got doxed.

You see, the main focus of my blog has always been NSFW… And I not only used to write NSFW of the 3rd years (like in this blog) but also from the other characters of the cast - with exception of Ortho. I always separated the media from reality and I still follow this policy, however, some people don’t see the same. I really don’t mind with folks blocking me or not enjoying my content, however, I was heavily harassed by the fandom. 

Most of the time I used to delete the comments, but sometimes, I was a bit petty or showed them some arguments. Anyways, soon the asks in my inbox started to get heavier and I started to feel a bit afraid. It got to the point I received gore links and other stuff. Still, I wasn’t that worried… until someone sent a message with the name of my city on it and explicit threats to find where I live, study/work and places I tend to go, together with my real info.

Of course, it was probably just someone crossing information, but still, I got extremely afraid. It’s not everyday someone sends you the name of your city that isn’t so popular for people outside of Brazil. I got very scared and just wiped up my blog from Tumblr - and nowadays, I see how irresponsible it was from me. I should have at least left a note behind and not make people I used to interact with share what happened. I feel deeply sorry for you guys and the friends I made in the fandom.

I may still have some prints of the messages I received, however, it’s not guaranteed. I will try to find those as some kind of proof, but it may be hard to do so.

The blog was initially made because a mental health professional advised me to do so, to somehow help me… It soon proved to be hell to me, but nowadays, I decided to give another chance. Again, I apologize for everything and hope you guys can forgive me! I don’t want any kind of problem or drama anymore…

Thanks for everything. I’ll try to be as active as I can, however, it may be a bit hard due to my personal life and the little paranoia I got from the situation. I don’t plan on doing big projects like continuing the fangame or anything like this… and probably, I’ll just stick to Tumblr. 

Anyways, thanks for reading, my little sinners. If you have any questions, feel free to send me.

With love, Lust~

[deviantartdramahub]

This internet troll experience of mine is one that is infamous terrible, you see this dates all the way back to when I had old Deviantart account and I went under the name Drmusic2–1 (or Drmusic2 as some trolls missppelled it as) and there was this one particular troll that just seemed a little too creepy for words, and how? I’ll tell you, he was morbidly obsessed with me.

Firstly he dedicated several forum threads to me even if there were already two of them prior to his arrival but one particular thread went on for far too long, like 206 pages long. If the admin hadn’t been an asshole then maybe, just maybe it would have just ended at one. But as it stands, rude admin screwed me over and bam…206 pages. Good lord, 10 or 30 pages was bad enough but 200 is overkill and if said thread wasn’t already dead it was slowly dying from the inside.

Weening, oh god…the countless weening from other people on this particular forum. Even from people who only one had experience with them and the only reason they thought so negatively of me was because their precious site told me i’m a lulcow and that i’m a freak who believes they are their own character. Yes, I had a character based on a dead comedian and I RPed as that character a lot prior to this but the thing is I realize know that I got carried away, and that my character isn’t real…they didn’t. They think that I thought it was real. One blog even made this whole stupid post about how I’m apparently some kind of serial killer who wants to wear the skin of said comedian. One problem with that, said comedian is DEAD. John Candy died in 1994, I only started discovering his movie back in the late 2000’s. Also that one post I did was a cosplay post, I was looking for help on my John Candy cosplay project. And yes I did cosplay as him once for halloween, but I do not actually think I am him or a character based on him.

Despite obviously being familiar with the concept of furries and fursonas, these weening loser types of his pretty much thought I was being serious. And also i’ll never forgive one of them for what they said about werecreatures and furries, they’re not the same thing at all.

This guy’s numerous creepy fetishes…well for one thing he just seemed to really love torture and gore although consider several of the other members mentioned themselves thinking that I was into ‘diapers’ and vore…which i’m not, even going so far as to make up a fetish called ‘soul vore’…uhhhh….I don’t even know if that’s even a thing. This guy wouldn’t stop going on and on about how he’d like to torture me, yep…he was into the whole sadism thing too.

All of his avatars were women despite he himself clearly being male, he loved pretending to be a woman for some reason and some people actually do think he was one. The only photos that he used that weren’t female were one that was a mugshot and the other was a photo of some guy drinking some kind of alcoholic beverages, he used as this as a means to coax information out of me and my friends. And no he wasn’t trans this was way before transgender became mainstream.

He targeted my friends and family. He acted like my family hated me, my late father definitelyl loved me (he passed away in 2018 by the way), and he acted like I was a bane to them and acted like my friends weren’t real. Online friends may not be the same as physical friends but they still count as friends.

Videos…specifically an awful Xtranormal video of apparently my Author Avatar (who apparently is a little girl or teenager) being sent to a group home by someone posing as a social worker. Yeah I did Xtranormal videos too, but I only published two of them. I have two Vyond videos but I had to delete one of them because well let’s just say someone didn’t like a two star review I did of a game I didn’t like.

The whole nearly hacking my accounts to pieces thing, he and two other members were part of this whole conspiracy to try and humiliate me by coaxing me into giving personal online information to them - and I was talked into having a Skype conversation with one of them. And he…eeeew, showed me what was supposedly his penis, but it wasn’t even the penis - it was the penis of some underaged male user that said underage user had posted five years ago…yes, apparently the user in question did that on purpose, it’s made even worse when in one huge post the user that used those admitted to stealing pictures from a porn site which he passed off as his own nudes. Oh and he really thought he could get me with the system32 thing…since when as that ever worked at all?

Digging up old blog entries of mine and my photobucket pages. Those blog entries of mine were experiment and in character and prior to the current blog I had, those were just a way to amuse myself and I have since lost the information for those ones. As for my photobucket page, that’s just where I post my movie screencaps and magazine clippings that I find, nothing wrong with it at all. Keep in mind that one of the earlier blogs of mine was deleted because of hackers and I couldn’t get back into the other ones because I didn’t have the login information anymore.

Bringing in people that just didn’t have any reason for hating on me except for trying to be weening types. They’d do anything that site tells them even if it mean killing themselves in the process.

The doll fetish porno page. Basically he took a photo of a toy I have and another one and made a bizarre yuri porno photoshoot out of it, two female dolls making out with each-other. Oh and what makes that even creepier is that said dolls are basically dolls of young girls, so it’s underage too. Yeah, there was another user who loved making erotic doll photography to the point of giving a doll of a male character breasts, so this guy decided to copy that and use two dolls made to look like young girls make out with each-other. Underrage yuri, yikes.

They act like I really liked being treated like this, I didn’t…I had already become so unimpressed with how they were trolling me because of all their routines were the same. Yeah I created a werecreature oc based on John Candy and I create werecreature OCs in general but that doesn’t mean I think they’re real or believe I am them. They just liked to think that I do just because it would make them seem sane by comparison, and they like to live in their little fantasy world where their beloved John Candy monster is real and where they can talk about me all they like, well…they can try and say my name all they want but I stopped calling them back ages ago. This number is no longer in service.

Let’s talk about this guy openly admitting along with a few others that he wanted to see me suffer, oh and he wanted me to get killed off or go insane as well. Yes, I know lying about my masturbation habit to another user was a bad move but hey I had to do something to get him to shut up. Besides, I don’t even masturbate at all…not even in private. Are you sure that this guy isn’t the one who should have been sent to a group home and not me?

[artsybelle1015]

Not Safe Here Pt. 2

“See?” Kalim uttered to the Prefect. “He’s out of it!”

“I am not,” Jamil disagreed, he was fine, there was no reason for him to be there; he began to remember how Kalim kicked him out and forced him the ramshackle dorm. There was a glare boring into Kalim, his breath quickening from the hatred he was feeling.

Part One || Part Two

Warnings(!!!): gore, death, panic attacks, aggressiveness, SPOILERS FOR BOOK 4!!!

•••

A slow blink came about, nothing was quiet anymore, nothing was blurry anymore. He heard voices discussing. What he saw down below was a wooden ground on the verge of breaking.

Snapping his head up, Jamil eyes laid upon Kalim and the Prefect.

For some reason, he was holding a bag and so was Kalim. Everything around him had an evening glow, strange, last time he checked it was bright as day out.

Wait, how much time has passed?

A snap of fingers quickly flashed over his face, it was very loud too that it made Jamil jump, backing away. He furrowed his brows and hunched over, glaring at Kalim for scaring him like that.

“See?” Kalim uttered to the Prefect. “He’s out of it!”

“I am not,” Jamil disagreed, he was fine, there was no reason for him to be there; he began to remember how Kalim kicked him out and forced him the ramshackle dorm. There was a glare boring into Kalim, his breath quickening from the hatred he was feeling.

Kalim backed away, seeming to be a little frightened, even the Prefect backed away.

Jamil face distorted back to numb. He did it again, he isn’t any better. Now everyone is scared of him, he will be alone forever. All he will ever be is Kalim’s servant. There’s no way he should go out into the real world anymore, all he would do is get angry and crave to abuse. He would overblot again and may never be pulled out.

Everything is unfair, he was still a complete failure. He could never look at his parents and sister again. What was the point in all of this? What was the point in his life? He can’t even serve.

Life was suppose to be him out of the spotlight, an average student, an average person.

His thoughts went silent for some time.

___

You quietly stared at Jamil sleeping on your couch.

The three ghosts and Grim were examining him as well. Grim shouting protests about him being here whilst the ghosts were thinking of activities to do as he stayed in this busted up house.

Sitting down at the table, your head began to pound, regretting the choice of bringing him in here. He wasn’t your problem, yet Kalim made you feel responsible for him even though he didn’t mean to. He kept begging and pleading, on the verge of tears for his friend. You felt obligated for sure.

When you saw Jamil about to lose it on your porch, that’s when you realized how hard this will be. He was mentally unstable.

Goddamn Crowley for not putting counselors or therapists on this god forsaken school. It wasn’t fair you were the one stuck being a therapist and caring for everyone while you were already about to break down too.

“Henchman!” hollered Grim, jumping up on the kitchen table at which you sat. “Let’s just send him to another dorm, I’m sure Azul would love to have him.”

Your nose scrunched, disgusted by that idea. Sure, they may be getting along better, but Jamil barely has in interest in Azul and was terribly annoyed with his existence, that would make Jamil lose it more. And you had already promised Kalim to take care of him, how could you break Kalim’s heart? He was a good guy towards all of you, he deserved some help especially after all he went through with the manipulation and hypnosis.

“No Grim, that’s a horrible idea,” you sighed.

“Is not?” he hissed. “That guys psycho!”

Thinking of a solution to get Grim to shut up, you decided to just bargain with the stubborn cat. “I will buy you that tuna you really wanted everyday for dinner if you suck this up.”

Grim paused, thinking on it. “Well, henchman, you think you can just bribe with me on this, how stupid you are, but I will take you up on it.” He was refusing to admit that he wanted to do it, of course. That’s how he always was.

“Okay.”

___

No. No.

He was staring down at Kalim and the Prefect. Kalim was facing down, face hidden by the ground. The Prefect was breathing heavily, bleeding out.

Staring down at his hands, they were covered in blood, their blood specifically.

The Prefect kept a whimper, tryna stand a bit to get away, but their body couldn’t budge. There was a small crack, indicating many broken bones in their body. He did this to them.

Slowly turning to Kalim, he took some shaky steps. Crouching down, he saw no movements within Kalim’s body. His heart froze.

Without much of a choice, his arm reached out and turned Kalim’s face towards him.

Still movements, time froze. What stared back at him made the world stop. Now he could feel his heart, it was pounding, trying to break free of him, probably disgusted at the monster it kept alive.

Kalim, dulls eyes stared at him; his mouth ajar, spilling blood. Pale and cold, that’s how he felt, yet the blood covering the top of his head was warm and fresh.

Backing away, Jamil saw the world speed up. Everything spun but Kalim’s body, his dead eyes staring at him.

He saw people now, staring at him in horror. Glancing to the side, he saw Azul, Jade, and Floyd broadcasting this scene, laughing their heads off. It wasn’t funny, Kalim was dead, why wouldn’t anyone do anything?

Even though everyone was a blur, their eyes weren’t, they were boring into him.

The Prefect slowly stood up, like their bones weren’t broken and had no reaction to anything. Instead, there was an exhausted yet numb look. Mimicking the one he saw in the mirror. All the Prefect did was walk to the students of Octavinelle, Jade coaxing them into a hug as they all walked away.

Soon enough, everyone walked away, like they never saw a thing. Yet, Kalim body remained there, still dead.

The world fades to black, yet him and Kalim still remained.

He killed Kalim, he killed Kalim and overblotted. How could he do this—he was a monster. Looking back down at his hands, he finally saw behind the blood how different and dried up they were, he was in overblot. How did he not see that before?

Tears began to pool in his eyes, he hated Kalim yet was grieving his death. This was unexpected yet made sense.

He was thinking maybe it was because he swore to his family he would protect the eldest son of the Asim. But no, it wasn’t that. He wasn’t upset because of his family right now, he was upset because Kalim was dead and he was dead because of Jamil, not an assassin.

Covering his face, he let out a cry.

“Jamil.” a hasty voice rang out.

Lowering his hands, his pupils shrunk in horror as he watched Kalim stand up. He still looked like a corpse, but held a smile.

Walking over to Jamil, he hugged him, nuzzling into his shoulder. He killed Kalim- but Kalim was forgiving him.

“Are you stupid?” Jamil sobbed. “I killed you.”

Kalim only looked up and smiled to him, suddenly pushing him to the ground, but instead of a thump, Jamil fell through the floor.

He couldn’t see, when he tried to open his eyes, but it was all black and stung. This was ink, ink like from his overblot.

Throat now pooled up. He started to choke, to drown. Drown in the mess he made.

If only he had stayed quiet, this wouldn’t be his fate, it wouldn’t be Kalim’s fate. Things would’ve been okay and normal. Doesn’t matter how upset Jamil was, how much he hated his life, that past was better than what was happening now.

When he felt like he was about to be dragged to hell, he suddenly landed on solid ground.

Jamil eyes shot open, quickly he sat up and coughed up ink. He was covered from head to toe with the black substance, but he noticed he was in his school uniform and warm again. He was himself.

There was standing room, the ceiling about being flowing ink that stayed in place, refusing to drip down.

He decided to get up and looks around, the ink slowly fading off his body. Everything in his body calmed down, now wanting to explore this new place. He had always wanted to explore, it was one of his dreams, but he didn’t expect a blank gray space.

Maybe this was limbo, or possibly hell. Hell was associated with being hot and burning, yet this place was cold and empty. Was it a personal hell?

Well, he thought it was empty, but the sound of wailing proved otherwise. Quickly whipping around into that direction, Jamil almost tripped from the speed.

His eyes widened. It was Kalim’s mother who was wailing like her life depended on it. She was dressed in all black and being consoled by her husband.

Next to her stood all of Kalim’s younger siblings, some crying, some staring.

But the worst sight to see, was Jamil sister and parents there too, a pained and sorrow look on their faces.

Not only had he hurt Kalim, he hurt two whole families.

Guilt wallowed up, filling him to the core. He slowly walked over, steps heavy and loud, like there was a weight trying to stop him. No, he needed to apologize to Kalim, but his body was trying to refuse.

With each step the force made it harder until Jamil crashed under it. Smacking his face against the ground and his groan in pained caught attention.

His parents specifically, looked at him while everyone else seemed to have not noticed. There faces filled with hatred, hatred for their own child. Yet, there was pity and disappointment mixed in.

Slowly, everyone faded away. And Jamil sat there, helpless, unable to move even an inch. His eyes slowly shut in exhaustion.

___

Something was vibrating against his legs, the thing felt quite soft.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, he didn’t want to see this world again, yet he had to, he had to face hell and his punishment. But he had to… he needed to know what was against his leg.

When Jamil opened his eyes, all he saw was a normal ceiling. No ink, no gray, it was a warm brown and dusty. There was a hue of orange coming from his right, he glanced over to investigate and it was a fire.

The thing against his legs was the Prefect’s friend, Grim. Strange, Grim didn’t seem like the type to do this cat—like sort of thing, he was normally aggressive.

Looking back up at the ceiling, he realized it was just a dream. A nightmare actually.

He noticed too looking around with his eyes this was most likely the ramshackle dorm, considering that Grim was next to him and the place was worn down. The couch even felt scratchy.

Despite how disgusting this environment felt, he stayed glued to the couch, forced to lay down by his own body. Just like how it was in the dream but more comfy, it had a pillow and blanket at least, and was warm.

The ramshackle, why was he here? Did Kalim actually kick him out? Stupid question to ask, obviously. Yet he doesn’t remember entering or falling asleep. In fact, he couldn’t remember much, everything would go blank and then suddenly he would appear from place to place, his mind bombarding him about his failures and how worthless and pathetic he was. He kept thinking about ending up as overblot again, he didn’t want that to happen so he would force his body to numb the emotion.

Clearly, that didn’t work in his favor, because now the days were shortened.

Creaks from floorboards could he heard. Jamil’s heart races, he wanted to get up and leave, run away, but couldn’t. He really was stuck.

The footsteps creeped closer.

He shut his eyes, not wanting to see who is there. Fearing for his life now, fearing of the look he would get. Heart was pounding the same way as the dream, wanting to escape, wanting him dead.

There was a long pause, long yet quick.

Then, all he felt was the blanket being slightly lifted and pulled up more.

He was okay?

Finally drooping his eyes open, he saw the Prefect walking away.

•••

Authors Note: I want to cry- tried to generalize the reader by going off what I felt as if most people felt playing the game plus some realism in how a person would feel in this situation, I promise the character you’re written as won’t be boring!

[g-oblincat]

One of my favorite manga ended 3 hours ago and I must talk about it

I actually wrote this two days ago and of course, the finale comes out RIGHT when I was about to post lol

On Twitter, I used to maintain a yuri manga recommendation thread to keep track of what I read and recommend my fav works to others. Now that I'm back on Tumblr, a platform that actually allows you to write why you like something, I want to start doing more in-depth recommendations. Starting with this one!

Koroshiya Yametai (I Wanna Quit Being a Hitman!) by Tonoki Sun

Rose is a hitman who dislikes her job, but she has one thing to look forward to: dates with her girlfriend, Benika. However, not wanting to go on dates with a guilty conscious, she always confesses her sins (murder) to a priest in a confessional booth that hides both their faces. The priest, Father Shirafune, happens to be Benika’s actual biological father.

Rose doesn’t know the priest she’s told about all her jobs to is Benika’s father. Benika doesn’t know Rose is a hitman, and is also keeping her queer relationship secret from her religious father. Shirafune is curious about his daughter’s new “boyfriend”, and has no idea the “boyfriend” is the person who keeps confessing murders to him.

The initial chapters of Hitman remind me of Spy x Family, where the comedy and appeal comes from the dramatic irony and near misses of each character trying to keep their own secrets, but the tone is different. There’s definitely lightness and comedy there, but underlying is a story of Rose, a refugee fleeing her war-torn home and being forced to work as a hitman in a rich country who doesn’t care about her people. She’s a pawn for greater political powers, and the story is how she tries to break out of that.

A quick, non-spoiler list of why I like this manga - if any of these appeal to you, I beeeeg you to read this comic:

Really cute loving relationship between the main couple! But also: well-fleshed characters outside the main couple! Father Shirafune is GREAT

Plot is more political than I expected, in what feels like a very grounded, real way. The main plot of the story is about refugees that are discriminated against and mistreated and what happens in a country when that mistreatment reaches a boiling point.

I need to think more about the story to be confident in talking about this outside of surface-level observations, so I desperately want smarter people to read it so I can also see their takes haha

The writing is just GOOD and appeals to me specifically. The plot is fast-paced with no filler. There’s a good balance of comedy, lovely moments between the couple, action where you can see Rose get out of tough situations (more on this in the spoilers), and scheming and double-crossing between various political powers.

I read this comic on Dynasty Scans, translated by Gouma-Den. The site’s tags are usually good for content warnings - the main ones are violence/killing/etc. There isn’t a ton of gore though. I believe the raws are here. I don’t think it’s licensed as of me writing this, but you bet I’m buying it all if/when it is.

I want to ramble more about what I like about it below, but it will contain **spoilers**! All images are from the Dynasty Scans translation.

The precise way action scenes are written

The action scenes are super fun to read. Most of them are about Rose escaping pursuers in clever ways that don’t give out her identity, and focus on the steps she took to prepare for these situations and how she outsmarts her enemies. There is a similar appeal here to detective or heist stories where Rose is put in a tough spot, and you see how her knowledge and wild amount of foresight let her escape.

In general, I like the scenes where characters are thinking to themselves and trying to problem-solve in any manga, and this happens a lot in this manga. One of my favorite scenes is when Rose tries to figure out if Benika’s new friend is another hitman, without tipping off either of them.

I just think this is soooo cool. The story is full of Rose’s cleverness in these kinds of situations that is so fun to read.

The romance

The romance is so sweet. The girls have an adorable meet-cute and throughout the story, you really see why Rose likes Benika- she’s kind and energetic but doesn’t hesitate to give Rose a piece of her mind when needed. Rose clearly loves Benika a lot and is always thinking of her. The characters’ interactions feel cute but realistic, and they’re fleshed out outside of the romance, which makes me like them more as people and root for them more.

But also (huge spoilers ahead, please skip this paragraph if you plan on reading this at all) it’s soooo yuri to have one girl try to make a huge high-stakes emotional sacrifice for the other one while confessing that it’s all for love. And it happens in the latest chapter and I went wild.

The themes the story tackles outside of the romance

This to me is both the most striking part of the story!

The first, smaller thing that stands out is Benika and her hesitance to tell her father about her relationship because she assumes her father is homophobic since he’s clergy. Father Shirafune is not homophobic actually and the two have a good relationship otherwise, but it stands out that this is a consideration Benika has. I feel like a lot of yuri is characterized by being only about romance, not identity or society. Characters will like girls, but not be gay. I don’t think this is a bad thing- it’s a characteristic of the genre and TBH in my head, it’s the difference between yuri and LGBTQ manga. However, that’s why this aspect of the story stood out to me- it serves to show queerness plays a bigger part of Benika’s character and the world, is an important motivator in the story, and is good worldbuilding. It also is important because it adds to the grounded tone of the story- it’d be weird to have a story that is full of politics and religion otherwise but say nothing about the two main characters’ queerness.

Speaking of the politics of the story, the main non-romance plot is about how the unspecified first-world country the story takes place in (probably Japan, even though they never say?) treats refugees. There are multiple chapters about how poorly the refugees are treated, and what will happen to the country if it goes too far unaddressed (and if the country deserves what it gets).

This sequence of panels in one of the latest chapters was really good!

That’s it! The Dynasty translation is nearing the end of the comic (EDIT: It got posted right before posting this LOL that's what I get for being slow) so it’s a great time to catch up! Please read this comic and talk to me about it!!!