#but still whumpy

[befuddled-calico-whump]

I think he likes it

(full under the cut for gore/broken bones and eye whump)

art tag: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast , @whumpsday , @regrets-realization-acceptance , @kixngiggles , @randomlifeunit , @darkthingshappen

[blackjackkent]

I'm going through Withers' dialogue with a PC who romanced Karlach at the epilogue party after she dies (for Reasons), and I'm not going to make use of this in the thing I'm writing but I NEED EVERYONE TO KNOW that this dialogue exists:

PC: "I'm being strong. It's what she would have wanted."

Withers: Truly? Most of the time it was she who was strong for thee. Didst thou not employ her ever to carry all of thine loot?

PC: Are you making a joke?

Withers: It is said that mortals require levity, that it is the antidote to any of the darkest hours. And who knew that better than she?

Alternatively:

PC: It was scary how many goblin clubs she could carry.

Withers: With thee, she couldst do anything.

😭😭😭😭

[skyward-floored]

Hm. This fic took a turn for the serious.

...it wasn’t supposed to do that.

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

(Hint: it was about 1 minute later.)

Almost Paradise S01E09 A Wedding to Die For.

[cherrydreamer]

Ok, I'm having thoughts about S3 and a freshly possessed Billy who doesn't know what's happening to him but he knows it's something bad. He's waking up covered in blood and he's having all these weird nightmares and flashes of memory and he doesn't know what the fuck is happening, he doesn't understand, but he knows he's hurt someone and he knows it's going to happen again.

So he decides to go to the police. It goes against everything he believes, but he's a monster, right? He needs locking up. Putting down. At least then people will be safe. At least then he won't hurt anyone else.

So, in one of his rapidly decreasing lucid periods, he goes to the station. And he gets lucky. Because the air con is broken and the station is hot, stiflingly so. And it's just enough to weaken the Flayer and keep it at bay long enough that Billy gets a chance to talk to Hop who, at first, is happy enough with any excuse to get this punk kid behind bars. Teach him a lesson. Put him in his place. And at first he assumes that Billy's half sobbed, half screamed ramblings are something to do with drugs, some bad trip or something.

But then Billy talks about the shadow. And Hop really starts to listen. And he starts to worry. But he also starts to make a plan. Cause this Hargrove kid is a dick, that much is true, but he doesn't deserve this. No one does and, hey, they got this thing outta one kid, right? They can definitely do it again.

So Hop tries, by himself. He tells Billy's it's gonna be OK, that he's going to be fine, that it's not going to be pleasant, but they'll get this out of him, and that he needs to keep fighting, as much as he can, keep fighting, kid, with whatever you've got. You're gonna be OK.

And Hop just about manages to get Billy locked up and restrained in a cell, but he can see that it's a close thing; the kid is losing control and the thing is fighting back, and Hop remembers what Joyce told him about how they helped save Will, so he knows about cranking up the heat and talking through good memories, and he can do the first thing, sure, but he's kinda drawing a blank on the second. He barely knows Billy, beyond the trouble he's caused, most of Hop's interactions have involved issuing him yet another speeding ticket or seeing the tail end of the Camaro roaring away from a house party he's been sent to shut down, and Hop's pretty sure that kind of experience isn't gonna help him here. He knows he's gonna need some help from someone who actually knows Billy.

So Hop tries and tries, but he can't get hold of Max, and he can tell by the yells and the banging coming from the cell that he doesn't have long, so he calls the only other person he can think of. He calls Steve Harrington. And he knows that Steve and Billy didn't exactly have the best history, but Hop also knows that, along the way, something changed. He knows that Harrington's been in the passenger seat a couple of those times when Hop pulled Billy's car over, and he's pretty sure he's seen that same car parked up around Loch Nora.

So, it's a gamble, but he's got nothing else.

And Steve comes in. Hop's barely even started explaining the situation before Steve's agreeing to help, telling Hopper that he doesn't know Billy that well, not really, but he'll give it a shot, sure, and before Hopper can even warn him to be careful, Steve pulls up a chair right next to the cell door and starts to talk.

And it's not exactly groundbreaking, what Steve says, there's nothing big or emotional. He starts with, "Hey dude, you remember that game last month? The one against Westfield? You remember how we absolutely smashed them? The two of us and that whole, like, tag team play you came up with? Damn, man, that was awesome! They did not see that coming!" and then he's rambling about some time in the parking lot when Billy caught him singing along to a Queen song on the radio and, instead of mocking him, Billy joined in with his own air guitar solo before smirking and walking away. There are other things too, little in-jokes and references that Hopper can't make head nor tail of, smattered with advertising jingles and terrible impressions of people that apparently mean something to the both of them.

It's not much, not really. But that doesn't seem to matter.

Because it's working. Despite them being tiny things, all of Steve's little stories are having an effect.

Billy's fighting.

There are tears pouring down his cheeks and his nails are digging into his thighs hard enough to draw blood, but his eyes are fixed on Steve's and Hop can see how damn hard he's fighting.

And, this time, he's winning.

[gintrinsic-writing]

A (very belated) continuation of a 2022 Whumptober fill, in which Link, after being Cia's prisoner for 2 years, is found by the Chain.

For @gingerest-ale and @sighfineillcomeback.

[blarefordaglare]

day 7 - suffering in silence

In which Wind (fairy au) has vision problems because I said so 

Also I have a little extra headcanon for the fairy au and there is a tiny spoiler in it for it :)

Also bonus b/c it’s a tiny bit late:

____

The ocean was a very bright surface to sail on. Of course, during his journey before he got his wings he never really payed attention to the bright water. Yet, after he came home, something seemed different. The bright lights of the water seemed to reflect right into the fairy’s pupils and singe them if he stared any longer.

You couldn’t sail to shore with your eyes closed though, so Wind allowed his eyes to be exposed. Of course he didn’t get out of it damage-free, but he could still see clear enough to differentiate colors, so what’s the big deal? It wasn’t like he couldn’t see anything, he still had some vision left.

“Hey sailor!” A cheery voice rang through Wind’s ears, he opened his eyes and quickly searched around to find who he was looking at, oh, it was Four. “I’m planning on fixing your shield today, would you like to help?” 

Wind nodded his head, his eyes darting around to find where his shield was. I’ll just follow his footsteps and find it there. 

…

Wind’s plan was originally working out perfectly. He simply would just listen to the smith’s directions and act accordingly, memorizing where every tool, edge, and rock were placed. Four had the shield on his own little side of the makeshift forge so Wind didn’t have to worry about burning himself, which made things much easier on the sailor. 

“Alright, be careful, this piece of metal is hot. I’m leaving it here.” Four got up from his chair to get a drink, leaving wind alone with the piece of metal. Of course, he didn’t know where it was, but judging by how the shield has not been in an arms length of him, he assumed he would be okay.

Turns out you should not assume things when working with hot metal, the second wind reached out to grab his gloves, a very hot material came in contact with his hands. The sailor could practically hear the layers of his skin burn off, and along with that, turns out his wince of pain didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Sailor- what are you doing?” An angry captain voice rang through the forest, “The smith just told you it was hot.” 

“Yeah but I didn’t see where it was-“ Crap. Big mistake, “I mean I did see it but I was,” Wind paused, “Distracted.” 

“Distracted enough to reach your hand into flames? I don’t think so.” The sound of fabric clasping together made Wind know that Warriors was most definitely crossing his arms, “And this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you dismiss obvious details. Like when that bokoblin was practically in your face.” The captain sighed, “Sailor, can you see alright?”

Wind’s breath hitched. He’d been caught, yet, maybe he just wouldn’t suffer in silence anymore.

[answrs]

okay! have a possible thought on Ingo & Eelektross falling together. specifically if you go with lost memory identity shenanigans for them both:

-

Ingo looks at eelektross and knows that its trainer is blunt. quiet. to the point. smiling. so why isn't he the way he remembers him being?

eelektross looks at Ingo and knows his partner is graceful. beautiful. outwardly calm but with a roiling, angry power hidden under soft chimes. so why does it not feel anything like that?

they don't remember enough to realize they're mismatched, only the vague impressions of what their fellow faller's partner is supposed to be like. (important thing i need to clarify: no, eelektross doesn't think it's a ghostly light fixture. it knows it’s an eelektross but remembers certain personal qualities of Ingo's ace and thinks that's supposed to be them. ingo doesn’t think he’s emmet, he just knows eelektross’s trainer didn’t act like he’s behaving now, like he ought to.)

so they try to act like they "should" as the other's companion but keep failing miserably. Ingo tries to smile, to be quiet, offer only brutal honesty. the facade fails quickly and often but he tries to do it for his friend, give it stability in this unknown world. eelektross forces itself to keep still, tamp down its curiosity to investigate shiny rocks and strange pokemon, not squirm and tangle and cover Ingo in wet sucker kisses when it's excited or happy or worried. it wants to give ingo whatever comfort it can through being the partner it remembers of him, with both of them lost as they are.

and their attempts make the other confused and upset, not matching the person/pokemon in their minds. but each take it as they must not be trying hard enough and need to act better. so the other one can be happy they have their Normal partner back.

and the thing is, it’s not like they’re unfamiliar with battling with each other! the subway bosses’ teams were really just one big group that mixed and matched on the regular - they’re extremely proficient at reading each other’s commands and strategizing on the fly while staying in sync, just like a normal trainer and their partner. so rather than clue them in it just makes things more confusing whenever there’s doubts that come up in the “I should act like this” schtick. if he’s not its trainer, if it’s not his ace, how else could they possibly know each other so well, be so practiced at fighting together?

-

this was supposed to be a funny thing about eelektross using flamethrower instead of any other sparky worm moves and then whoops i made them both total messes because Of Course I Did. 🙃

(also yes. emmet and chandelure are Very confused when they rip arceus a new one and stomp their way through spacetime to a very oddly acting duo.)

[another-whump-sideblog]

Give you whumpee tendonitis and force them to keep doing the same thing that caused it. Like, for example, a whumpee with shoulder tendonitis working somewhere where they raise their arms above their head several times an hour

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

well this next whumpee!reader insert isn't going to be short i guess

[jianghushenanigans]

Whumptober Day 28: Sacrifice

Peizhi looks awful. Truly awful. And Gu Qingzhang… he has a job to do. He can’t sacrifice everything he’s worked towards just for this.

Except…

He had approached Lan Jue because of who his father was. He had befriended Lan Jue as a means to an end. He had meant to stay with Lan Jue in order use him.

He had stayed with Peizhi because he was utterly entranced by him.

He can see himself in him. They’re of a similar age. They’re both orphans (or, in Gu Qingzhang’s case, as good as). They’re both determined to go through anything to get justice for their families.

Peizhi doesn’t know this about Shulin, of course, but he must have seen something, because for all Gu Qingzhang had tried to chase him, Peizhi had not tried hard to escape. Had pushed closer himself.

And all this, now, has led to Gu Qingzhang’s heart beating faster as he watches Peizhi pour poison into his own wine.

Gu Qingzhang has too much at stake to risk anything. He has to avenge the people who raised him. He has to have revenge on the Empress who left him to die.

And yet... and yet.

He swaps the wine with a deft hand. Tips it back without giving anything away. Slips away into the dark, feeling his insides burning but knowing, at least, that Peizhi will be alright.

Some sacrifices are worth it.

Peizhi looks awful. Truly awful. And Wang Yan… he has a job to do. He can’t sacrifice his good name, his family’s reputation just for this.

Except…

When he had met Lan Jue, he had been a nobody, selling calligraphy in the street, his own family’s reputation nothing but dust. Wang Yan hadn’t even noticed him, until he had been given no choice not to.

He can’t imagine his life without Peizhi in it, now.

He can see himself in him. They’re of a similar age. They both want their father’s to be able to look at them proudly. They’re both desperate to prove themselves in the political sphere.

Peizhi knows about the struggle Mowen has had, getting his father to approve of him. They had held each other close, one of them wishing his father cared, the other wishing his father was there. It made Wang Yan feel selfish, thinking about it afterwards, but somehow it had only drawn Peizhi closer.

And all this, now, has led to Wang Yan pausing to think as Peizhi begs him to hide evidence that he says is being used to frame him.

Wang Yan has too much at stake to risk anything. He has to prove his worth as the Minister for Justice to the Emperor. He has to prove it to his father.

And yet... and yet.

He nods, briskly. He swaps the evidence with a deft hand. Hides it without giving anything away. Slips back to the investigation, ignoring the potential political ramifications because he knows, at least, that Peizhi will be alright.

Some sacrifices are worth it.

*

Crossposted here on ao3

[whumpyinside]

Alright y’all, here’s the deal:

I just NEED to know when it’s Pedro in the suit… for, ehhhhh… reasons?

….

(Clears throat) anyway… so yeah, if I could just have, like… a chart? An outline? A diagram? 😂

(PS: we love Brandon Wayne and Lateef Crowder in this household).

[sick-bay]

Everyone!

If you haven’t seen it already you all should go watch No. 6 ! It’s a good short anime (11 episodes) and has quite a bit of whump!

(this post will contain some spoilers)

i don't have a full whump list bc i was watching and not writing down the whump moments but here’s some things i remember!

the first episode already starts off with one of the main characters (rat/nezumi) getting shot while he escapes this 'correctional facility' and the other main character (shion) treats his wound. he also has a fever (but it’s not made visible, only noted by shion that he's 'burning up')

in another episode shion panics bc he realizes he has a parasitic wasp inside of him that will kill him so he makes nezumi cut it out of him before he dies (shion changes appearance due to this)

in a later episode shion also almost has a panic attack and he also throws up

in the 10th episode (i think) nezumi gets shot twice (in the arm and leg) and shion bandages him up with his clothes

then in the last episode i believe rat gets shot again (in the torso) and he almost dies while shion kinda performs impromptu field surgery on him, he also carries him on his back to get him out

later shion gets shot in the chest and he actually dies (but spoiler alert he comes back to life and they both 'magically' heal and then the nice whump is already over sigh)

[toasteaa]

Neuvi and Eclair whump? 👀 Who's the one getting hurt the most?

Eclair. Always Eclair. She's the one that's human after all and, unlike her Sovereign of a lover, isn't impervious to (most) damage.

She's the one that operates on taking chances. She's the one that plans things to go one way - chances on them going the correct way - and then has to internally scramble to find a solution when an unexpected and unaccounted for party enters the situation. She's the one that doesn't get that chance once the butt of a Bracer's rifle knocks her unconscious.

Vision wielders can breathe in Fontaine's waters, but what happens when that Vision is removed? Perhaps sent as a warning gift to the Chief Justice, all neatly packaged with a bow? No address, no sender, just a Vision far too familiar to him for comfort and a note: "seven minutes". Too specific of a time for him to take any chances with his detective's Vision flickering and fluttering in his hand.

A reflection of her distress, her mounting panic, as the wrought-iron cage she's been locked in is dropped into the sea.

[stagelightwhump]

I swear to god, the two main reboots of this defunct d*sney MMO are the WHUMPIEST things imaginable. Like, in one of them, a guy wins the election and immediately gets kidnapped for ten years, and in the other, you literally get drafted into a war AND it's implied (design-wise only, sadly) that one of the enemies used to be someone on your side. What the fuck! /posi

[fissions-chips]

a reluctant request

------------------------------------------------------

(day 2: kidnapped- gorgon/slayer of monsters AU)

------------------------------------------------------

   Butler awoke from unconsciousness, painfully aware of two things. 

   The first- that he seemed to be lying on smooth, gray stone. The second- someone had taken his sword. 

   As soon as he recognized the lack of the familiar weight at his side, Butler shot upright, armor clattering as he moved. The sudden motion immediately sent a sharp pain down his head, gauntleted fingers reaching up to brush against his throbbing temple. When they lifted, he found no blood on them- but it ached all the same, pounding like a drum in the back of his skull. 

   Ow. 

   Shaking his head in an effort to clear it, Butler tried to recall what had happened- his last memory was patrolling along a streambank, the forest unusually quiet around him. A sudden weight leaping upon his back, a brief struggle that ended with his head dashed against the ground, and then… nothing. Eyes narrowed both from the pain in his skull and suspicion, the knight began to look around, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. 

   The space was quite small, the walls roughly hewn and the rocky floor beneath him scattered with small pebbles and stones. Nothing else seemed to be nearby- his brow furrowed as he realized that his sword was nowhere to be seen. Shortly to his right, however, the stone curved away, forming a passageway that led further into the darkness. 

   Hmm.

   Standing was difficult- a dull ache bloomed across his body as he moved to rise, like that of a fading bruise. He stifled a groan as he slowly made it to his feet, staggering slightly. Uncomfortable as it was, it was a familiar feeling- one that any knight who nodded off without stripping off their armor knew well. He must have been unconscious for at least a few hours. 

   A quick assessment of injury found that, other than the fading headache and general discomfort, he didn’t appear to be harmed- his armor plating seemed to have taken a beating, scuffed and battered at the edges. The mail that made up his tunic and closed the gaps between joints seemed to have fared far better- looking down, Butler noted strange marks scored down the side of one of his greaves. Four long, straight tears, punched clean through the steel, though the mail and flesh below remained, fortunately, whole. 

   Claw marks.

   Apprehension rose in the pit of his stomach, and Butler’s brow furrowed. They were rather large claw marks. 

   A beast, then.

   It wasn’t the best situation to be in, in the lair of a monster- but Butler was, above all, a slayer of such, having been trained in taking down the most frightening creatures of the world since he was a child. He had defeated many- and he would defeat many more. All he needed was his sword…

   Looking towards the passageway at the far end of the space, Butler carefully crept forward, trying to keep his steps as light as possible- a difficult feat for one in armor. Reaching the edge of it, he paused for a moment, listening. 

   He couldn’t hear anything in the next cavern- it was much darker, so much so that he could hardly make out the stone floor beneath him. It was the only way forward, however, and Butler had no interest in seeing what kind of creature had managed to kidnap him. 

   It must be intelligent, he thought, slowly stepping out into the room. He kept one hand on the wall, waiting- nothing moved, the air silent and still, so he carefully began to creep further away from the crevice. I’m not dead yet, and I’m not mauled. It was clever enough to take my sword from me. As grateful as Butler was to be yet unharmed, it was a worrying conclusion. A simple beast was far easier to kill than one capable of scheming. It must have some kind of goal in mind-

   “You’re awake.” 

   Butler froze as a low, sinister voice echoed in the darkness, dry and rasping, like a blade drawn over a whetstone. Head whirling left and right, he tried to pinpoint the direction of the sound, his hand automatically moving to draw his sword from his back- when his fingers closed around empty air, he cursed. 

   “Show yourself!” He challenged, stepping back until his heel met the wall. It wasn’t wise to corner himself, but he couldn’t see, and it would be easier to defend himself from an attack on his front than an attack from behind. 

   For a moment, the only answer he received was a quiet rustling, something moving in the furthest corners of the room. Then- 

   “To your right… you’ll find a lantern. Flint and steel. Light it.” 

   Butler didn’t move. It… speaks. “Who are you?” He raised his voice. “Why am I here, beast?” 

   “Beast?” The word was hissed, voice dripping with venom. “I am talking to you, and you call me a beast?” Something slammed into the ground nearby, stones and metal clattering, and Butler flinched, back slamming into the wall. An eerie growl began to twist through the air- that of a frighteningly large creature. The next words it spoke were snarling, much louder than before.

   “Light the damn lantern!” 

   It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. 

   Reaching down, Butler kept his eyes forward, useless as they were- after a few moments of fumbling, his fingers closed around glass and metal. Further feeling around, he found the flint and steel, pulling the lantern close so he could light it. 

   The sparks caught, and a few moments of fiddling with the lantern gave him a decent pool of light with which to work. Holding it high, Butler looked around, surprised to find a space strewn with scattered furnishings- fur pelts and rugs had been tossed over the stones, and there was a shallow pit carved into the floor nearby, full of blackened wood and soot. A fire pit. 

   Butler paused. Monsters don’t use fire. The lantern could be explained as a curiosity- occasionally, an inhuman creature developed a fascination with such things. But a cooking fire was a different matter- the only creatures, save for humankind, that cooked their food were dragons, or the fae folk. A dragon didn’t need a pit- and no member of the Seelie court would be caught living in a cave. 

   “It’s lit!” He called out, though he was certain now that he was being watched- two distant, glittering lights hovered at the edge of his vision, like twin stars. When he turned, holding the lantern forward, he caught a brief glance of coal-black scales, pulled away into the dark. 

   “Light the pit too, if it makes you more manageable.” The voice offered. “Then… I’ll explain your situation.”

   Butler hesitated, his eyes fixed on those twin points of light on the far side of the cavern- they watched him, unblinking. Then, he sighed. More light would only be helping him, in the end. This was clearly a beast built for the darkness. 

   With it lit, the cavern was suddenly plunged into warm, flickering light- there was a sharp hiss as the flames rose to life, a flicker of movement. Butler turned on his heel, fists raised, to find himself staring down his kidnapper. 

   The gorgon was a massive creature, its coiled body stacked in spiraling piles at the farthest corner of the room- scales black as pitch winked and gleamed in the low light as it slowly stalked forward, mouth twisted to bare razor-sharp, snapping teeth. 

   “Ah,” it hissed, watching the way Butler staggered back with a look of scorn. “Here’s your ‘beast’, monster-slayer. Care to mock me now?” 

   A gorgon. A fully-grown male gorgon. Butler’s eyes were wide, fear dropping like a stone in the pit of his stomach. Shit.

   Some creatures could be fought alone. Lycans, vampires, smaller species of dragon- Butler himself was perhaps the only man alive who could say he had taken on a troll single-handedly. But not a gorgon- not without the rest of his troop, and certainly not without his sword. The Major had taught him to trap them, with snares of twisted wire or staked pits dug into the earth. There was simply too much of them to fight for one man alone. He’d never been this close to one before, only their pelts- they weren’t common anymore. Butler tried to note every detail of his movement, the shape of the teeth bared at him and the serpent’s razor-sharp claws, scraping against the stone.

   Gleaming eyes, black and ice-blue, watched him, wary- after a moment of staring him up and down, the creature turned his head, lip curled. Butler was surprised to see the serpent’s skin was patched with pockmarked, marbled scarring- the mark of fire. 

   “Don’t call me that again, human. You’ve been kept alive this far- don’t tempt me to turn my back on what little hospitality I possess…” 

   I’ve insulted him, Butler realized. A small, giddily defiant little part of him crowed. The wiser part of him stamped it down furiously. “W-where is my sword?” He snapped, bristling. 

   The gorgon blinked at him. Cat-like pupils narrowed, and he scoffed. “…Hidden, for now. You won’t be needing it.” 

   “Hardly a fair fight, then,” Butler muttered. He stepped back, keeping the lit fire between him and the serpent- the other eyed the flames warily, but didn’t move to rush him. Instead, the gorgon curled his lip. 

   “Do not insult my strength by assuming your little sword would be enough to stop me.” He hissed, lifting one taloned finger to jab in Butler’s direction. The serpent’s tone, Butler noted, had taken on a note of haughtiness to it. “It’s hidden for other’s protection, not mine- you’ll get it back later… as long as you do what I tell you. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring you here to kill you- as much as I’d like to.” 

   Other’s protection?

   Butler crossed his arms. Maneating monster or not, he was getting tired of getting talked down to- he was a Butler, for fuck’s sake. His name was feared by man and beast alike. I’ve slain worse, he reassured himself. And if this creature wants me alive… then I have an advantage.

   “Why am I here, then?” 

   For a moment, the gorgon didn’t speak- the dark-scaled serpent instead looked away, at something behind him, hidden by the coiled mass of his body. Tail tip drumming against the floor, he stared into the shadows for several seconds before letting out a deep, frustrated sigh. 

   “I need your… help.” 

   Butler paused. “Help?” He muttered. “You… need help. A monster, a wicked creature like you, asking me for help-“ 

   His words were cut off by a furious snarl, the gorgon whirling around- a fist slammed into the ground mere inches from his feet, Butler sent tumbling back from the force of it. Instead of landing on the ground, however, he found himself caught fast by a loop of the serpent’s body, dragging him from the ground to dangle him aloft. 

   Shit shit shit shit-

   “Monster? Monster?” The gorgon sneered, shaking Butler sharply, armor clattering. “What right do you have to call me names, butcher? Your ilk kill mine for our skins, for our claws or our teeth- at least I eat what I kill!” 

   Butler gasped, fumbling at the black scales twining around his middle, crushing him. There was the distinct sound of metal crumpling- sharp, stabbing pain rippled down his sides, his ribcage creaking with the sudden strain. 

   Just when Butler thought his spine would snap, the serpent flung him away- the knight hit the ground hard, completely winded. As he gasped and coughed, struggling to rise from the stone floor, the gorgon crossed his arms, claws digging into his own skin as he fought to control his temper. 

   “You will call me Artemis… or ‘Tim’. Not ‘monster’, not ‘beast’- you have no right. I am a killer, yes. I won’t deny it like you do. But you will not insult me in my own home, when I brought you here without a scratch on you.” 

   “And you…” Butler panted, barely managing to drag himself to his feet. His head was spinning. “-will not force me to help you in your… your scheming! I won’t help you hurt others- no matter what you do to me.” 

   Artemis stared back at him- Butler watched as his brow furrowed, eyes glittering with… confusion. Then, stark realization. “You- you think I brought you here to turn you against your fellows?” He muttered. “Or some… village?” Eyes widening, the gorgon barked a short, stunned laugh. 

   “Oh, oh of course!” He hissed, hand lifting to furiously drag through his hair. “Of course, it must be sinister intentions- you, the noble knight, kidnapped for some wicked scheme of the big, bad monster.” The last word was spat with venom. 

   Butler watched, shocked, as Artemis’s head fell into his hands. For a moment, the serpent didn’t move, shoulders shaking with some strange emotion. Warily, the knight glanced around the room, hoping to see the firelight glinting off of a familiar blade- but he found nothing. What else would I be here for, he thought, his own fury spiking. I’m being scolded by a snake! 

   His thoughts were cut through by a low, furious growl- Artemis lifted his head, forked tongue flickering between his teeth as he hissed, muttering some strange curse. “I… I didn’t bring you here so you could hurt something, you stupid, stupid man.” he said. There was a note of sudden desperation in his voice- something that sounded a lot like grief. 

   “I didn’t bring you here for information, so you could sell out the rest of your lot… I brought you here because, as I recall, you monster-slayers know how to heal.”

   …Heal?

   Butler balked. “What?” He snapped. “You want me to… heal something?” 

   It was true, yes, that Butler was trained in basic first aid- bruises, scrapes, cuts. And it was true that he had received training in injuries of a more severe variety, those that one would expect to find when one’s entire purpose centered around the slaying of violent, powerful creatures. Burns, broken limbs, slash wounds that tore deep into muscle- Butler had seen it all. But he hadn’t healed them, unless they were his own, because his job was to hurt. Not mend. 

   “Yes,” Artemis hissed, bristling. His expression flickered between that of frustration and something forlorn- his tail lashed, cat-like. 

   “It doesn’t look like there’s a scratch on you.” 

   “No, not me-“ Artemis lifted a hand to his head, cursing. “A human. I need you to heal another human, alright? Isn’t that your job- helping others of your kind?” 

    He spat it out, like an accusation. Like he didn’t believe it. Butler’s eyes narrowed. “Of- yes, it is. Why… why is there a human here to begin with?” Forcing down his temper, Butler tilted his head. It seemed like he would need to find a way to attempt a rescue.

   Artemis paused. After a few moments of deliberation, he turned, gesturing for Butler to step closer- when the knight hesitated, the serpent bared his teeth, a note of warning creeping into his voice. 

   “Don’t make me move him- come here, or I’ll drag you.”

   With only a moment’s hesitation, Butler cautiously began to creep forward, skirting around the coiled piles of coal-black scales, eyeing them warily. Following Artemis’s gaze, Butler leaned past the thickest length of the gorgon’s body, curled protectively around a limp, shivering figure. 

   Oh.

   The man was small, thinly-built- his dust-colored hair hung, ruffled and sweat-soaked, over a face flushed dark with fever. His whole body was trembling, narrow chest heaving for breath- his eyes seemed to be roaming beneath flickering lids, though he hardly stirred when the gorgon shifted around him. 

   As he leaned closer, Butler was suddenly struck by the stench of sickness and soured wounds. 

   Infection.

   “I found him like this,” Artemis muttered- one clawed hand reached down, gently brushing the small man’s hair back from his face. To Butler’s surprise, even unconscious, the man seemed to lean into the touch, his lips moving soundlessly. “He didn’t come home- he always comes home. A whole day it took me to find him, tossed down a dry bank and left to die.” The serpent’s mouth twisted into a snarl as he said it- then, Artemis’s face fell into one of anguish. 

   “It’s a sword wound. It had begun to fester already- I tried to stop it, but I’m not a healer, and he sickened so fast… he’s not- he’s not strong. My kinsfolk, my brother, he knows the ways of medicine, but he lives too far. Jon wouldn’t survive the journey.” 

   Butler blinked. “So… you kidnapped me. Why not take him to a doctor?” 

   Artemis didn’t look at him, his gaze solely fixed on the human laying limp in his coils. Crouching, the gorgon carefully rested his head against Jon’s own, eyes closing for a moment. “They would kill him,” he murmured, voice darkening. “For being associated with me- or they’d turn him away, and he’d die all the same.” 

   Reaching out, Butler ignored the warning growl echoing beside him, and brushed his hand against the other man’s forehead- his skin was dry and horribly hot to the touch. “Is he…” Butler searched for the right word. “Is he your thrall?” 

   Artemis bristled- his expression took on one of resigned irritation. “Whatever your beliefs, monster-slayer, I can assure you that Jon is here with me of his own free will. Look around you.” 

   Butler turned his head, taking a long look at his shadowed surroundings- after a moment, he began to notice human furnishings, scattered around. The fire pit had been a clear indicator, but there were others too- pieces of human jewelry neatly arranged beside a small cot, piled high with furs and blankets. Bowls, clothing- and the lantern. He does live here, Butler realized. What kind of man makes his home with a gorgon?

   “He is, however, under a spell at the moment- he hasn’t been able to tell me who did this.” Artemis muttered. When Butler gave him a suspicious look, the gorgon snarled.

   “He was thrashing in his bed, screaming in pain. I had the means to take that away from him- so I did. Don’t look at me like that.”

   Looking at the two, the knight found himself confused. Gorgons were maneating, had a tendency towards cruelty, and could leave an entire troop of men missing and torn to pieces within the span of one night. Territorial, and violent, and highly cunning- how was it that a human had come to be cared for by one? Even unconscious, Jon seemed reluctant to be apart from the serpent, letting out a quiet whine when Artemis pulled away. Expression softening, the gorgon continued to run his hand across the other’s head, turning to give Butler a look. 

   “You’re going to fix him,” he muttered. “You- you have to. If you don’t I’ll-“ 

   “Let me guess. You’ll kill me?” 

   Artemis sighed. “… Yes.”

   Stepping back for a moment, Butler weighed his options. There weren’t many. He wasn’t a doctor- but the man would clearly die without treatment. If what the serpent said was true, and the man had been thrashing around, with this high of a fever… he didn’t have long. On the other hand, however- Artemis was a monster. Butler had taken an oath long ago to slay such creatures- by helping the serpent, he was potentially turning his back on said oath. 

   If he refused, either way, then he was dead. He had no doubt of that.

   After a long minute, Butler bowed his head. 

   “… Fine. Show me the wound.”