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#exhaustion can VERY easily KILL a nightmare???

yournaothings · 17 days

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***Please be aware; there is violence and mentions of death in this chapter. After all, it's the Murder Time Trio.***

Yo! Here comes another chapter! Reader, you have a nickname. Also, remember! These murderous skellies are based off of CJ_Does_VA's Killer, BlankSceneVA's Dust, Anger_Is_Flawed's Horror, and CallmeSlate's Nightmare.

With that being said, please be aware of the original creators of these characters. I forgot to mention them in the first chapter, whoops.

Killer Sans: Rahafwabas Dust Sans: Ask-Dusttale Horror Sans: Sour-Apple-Studios Nightmare Sans: Jokublog

After the three murderous skeletons had their laugh, Horror was nice enough to help the human back up onto their feet. "Hehe, that looked like it hurt! Here, let me just-" He reached closer with a hand towel he had grabbed from the counter and helped clean the blood off of their face. The human's face contorted in pain as Horror wiped away the blood, their face sore from hitting the tiled floor so hard. "Thanks, Horror." They sighed once he was finished. "I appreciate it."

"It's no problem, heh." Horror tossed the now dirtied hand towel behind him, landing on top of Dust's head. The bloody part of the towel slapped him in the face, while the rest rested on top of the hood that covered his skull. "Ugh! Horror! What the fuck!" Horror hummed as he turned to see why Dust was so upset, only to laugh at Dust. "Hah! That's hilarious!" Dust glared at Horror as he tossed the towel aside. "I'm going to kill you." Horror tipped his head towards Dust while pointing at him with a wide grin. "You can try, buuut~ You won't be able to."

The human laughed softly while the two bickered back and forth, their hand raising to hide their smile. Killer chose that moment to steal his human's guest's attention away from the others. "So, now that that's over with! I never asked! What's your name, human?"

"Oh," The human smiled at Killer, easily forgetting that he had just been holding his knife way too close to their face several minutes ago. They introduced themselves. "It's nice to finally meet you, Killer. Regardless of how it all started, I'm very excited to be here." Killer's grin widened, giving off such a mischievous look. "It's nice to meet you too, toots. But, I think the name Angel is much better for you." He grinned at them. "Anyway! Like I said before, be aware of your surroundings and you'll be juuuust fine. Or not. You can never know when it comes to me~" Despite the warning yet again, they smiled. "What did you have planned for the day anyway? Anything in particular?" "I'm glad you asked!" Killer grinned at them gleefully, before grabbing their hand and started to drag them out of the kitchen and towards the back door. Angel eagerly followed, hoping whatever Killer had planned was going to be exciting!

The other two skeletons finally stopped arguing with each other as soon as Killer left the kitchen. "He's going to kill them." Dust states as he and Horror watch Killer drag the human guest out of the house and to the backyard. "Yeah, probably." Horror hummed. He turned to glance down at Dust then to the back door before deciding to follow after their chaotic skeleton buddy. Dust sighs from exhaustion, before he too followed after the others.

Killer placed Angel in front of a tree that clearly has been used as target practice with very sharp objects. "I really don't think this is a good idea, Killer." Angel said, feeling themselves sweat nervously and giving Killer a fearful look. "Ah, you'll be fine~! I never miss~"

Angel fidgeted in place while they waited for Killer to prepare. Killer grinned mischievously, spinning his knife around expertly. He turned around to adjust his camera, grinning to his audience. "Are you guys ready to see something great?" Just as Killer turned around and prepared to throw his knife, Nightmare wrapped his tentacle around Killer and lifted him off of his feet before he could do anything harmful.

"What are you idiots doing now?" Nightmare asked, annoyed with Killer. He glanced back at the human- "Oh, I forgot about you." He turned fully towards the human, frowning. "Really, boss?" Killer asked as he spun his knife around and stabbed it into Nightmare's tentacle. Nightmare's expression shifted from annoyance to an irritated glare and he tossed Killer back towards the house and out of frame from his audience. Killer screamed as he flew and crashed into the porch; Horror and Dust finally stepped out of the house. There was silence for a good solid minute before Dust leaned over, pointing and laughing at Killer's pain.

"You fucking idiots." Nightmare sighed heavily in annoyance. He pinched his nasal ridge, his one eye socket closing as he felt a headache coming on. "I don't know why I still keep you three." At the sound of the human's snickering, Nightmare straightened his posture and shot them a glare, making them press their lips into a thin line and straighten up. He could see the grin they were trying to hide, as well as feel the bit of fear they had.

"I never get tired of watching Nightmare toss you around like a ragdoll." Dust said as he started to calm down from his laughing fit. "That was pretty funny." "What did you do this time, Killer to make Nightmare throw you?" Dust asked, all three clearly ignoring Nightmare, who remained in place. "Well, he popped in right before I got to show off my nice knife skills to Angel and the audience. I may have stabbed him a little too hard~" Killer grinned excitedly; he wasn't fazed by Nightmare tossing him.

"You idiot." Dust huffed out, before returning to his usual calm and volatile self. "Heh-" Horror snickered before turning his attention to his boss. "Oh, uh, hey there, boss!" Nightmare sighs, rolling his cyan eye light. "Get the fuck over here, idiots."

Angel leaned against the tree while Dust and Horror made their way closer, Horror moving to check on them. Angel smiled reassuringly up to Horror. All the while, Killer struggled to get himself unstuck from the outdoor furniture he got trapped under.

Killer dusted himself off before teleporting over to stand beside his boss. "So, what's going on, boss? I thought you were busy with work?" Nightmare glared haphazardly at Killer, then Dust. "Come on, you're a part of this now, too~" Horror told Angel, as he placed a hand on the back of their neck and firmly nudged them towards Dust's side- Killer was on Dust's other side. Nightmare remained in front of the four.

"I have a mission for you all. One of my conquered AU's is being overtaken by my brother and his stupid Stars. I need you three to go and cause more chaos and negativity." Killer pulls out his knife and spins it expertly while giggling with excitement. "I'm game~" Dust shrugged; "Sure." Horror grins and summons his axe. "Sounds like fun~!" Nightmare relaxes his tense shoulders, before gesturing towards the human. "Take the human with you." Killer grins and salutes his boss. "You got it, boss!"

Nightmare rolls his singular eye light before telling them which AU they were going to, before melting into a puddle of goo and disappearing. Killer giggles as he teleports beside Angel and wraps an arm around their shoulders. "You're gonna love this! Oh!" Killer perks up and turns to his discarded camera. He walks over and picks it back up, booping his audience. "Heheh~ don't worry, everyone. I'm bringing you along, too~"

"Which AU are we going to, anyway?" Angel asks, smiling; however, it didn't quite reach their eyes. They were a little worried. Actually, worry didn't begin to cover how they felt. They were afraid. What if they got hurt? What if the three murderous skeletons left them behind? They fully expected to go home after their time with the Murder Time Trio.

"It's another Classic AU, but the humans made it a game to hunt and kill monsters." Killer explained, grinning. "If Dream and his Star boys have been meddling in that universe, then the humans and monsters may have found peace. Which means, we get to kill whoever we want and blame it on the opposite side!" Killer laughs as he spins his knife once more, before finally pocketing it and preparing to teleport to the AU with his team.

Horror pulls Angel close, his larger arm wrapped around them, as Killer gripped their hand, his other hand gripped Dust's hand. Dust shot Killer with a small glare, before he took Horror's other hand. "Let's get this over with." Dust huffs. "Aw~ Don't sound too excited, Dust~" Killer snickers. Dust stares straight ahead- right at Angel and grins. "Try not to get yourself killed, human. I suggest you find a hiding spot until we've finished." Angel tensed, their heart racing within their chest; this was a really bad idea. "I'll do my best to stay alive. Don't leave me behind, though, okay?" Dust grins underneath his hood, yet his two colored eye lights glowing ominously. "No promises~"

---

There was a heavy atmosphere of negativity that seemed to be slowly lifting away and being replaced by what Angel would describe as positive energy.

"Ugh, you can definitely feel Dream's magic here." Killer grouses as he watches the mayor speaking to the group of humans and monsters just ahead of them. The young human ambassador was making a speech with the King and Queen of the underground; they were indeed making a truce. A deal of peace.

Thanks to the strange trio of stars, both humans and monsters have seen eye to eye and wished to bring this unnecessary war to an end.

Yuck.

"Alright, boys." Killer grins, his liquid hate dripping much faster from his eye sockets. His grin was sharp and dangerous, his eye sockets narrowing in a predatory glare. He was ready to go! "Remember what Nightmare said. We've got to get rid of Dream's positivity."

"Yeah." Dust nods as he adjusts his scarf around his neck. "It's about time to gain more LV." He glances back at Angel, notices how they grew even more tense since they arrived. "Hey, I'm serious. Don't get yourself killed. Find a hiding spot and we'll come find you later." Angel frowned, they kind of wished Nightmare didn't make the trio bring them along. "Okay."

"Actually," Killer interjects as he continues to watch the ambassador, the king and the queen on the stage. "I've got a little job for you." Horror and Dust turned to look at Killer, curious as to what he had in mind. "Break up their little meeting, you can do whatever you'd like. Make them scared, so they can start scattering like frightened sheep."

Angel looked surprised, then uneasy. "Um, are you sure, Killer? What if something bad happens." Killer glances at Angel, his grin sharpening. "Don't worry, Angel~ We've got your back~ I know you'll do great out there." "Heh, yeah! We won't let any of these losers hurt you. All ya gots ta do is scare the crowd. We'll do the rest." Horror explains to Angel, his own grin wide and dangerous. Angel stood before the three skeletons as they stood at the ready for the attack.

They knew these skeletons were murderers. They knew this, yet they followed Killer's streams and other servers. During the streams, Killer was a lot of fun to interact with, to watch and play games with. It was so easy to forget that he was a, well... Killer. Now, standing before him and his teammates, the reality settled in. Today should have been a fun day hanging out with the Murder Time Trio. They were supposed to go on fun trips, or play video games! Not... Not this.

Killer isn't asking for you to kill anyone.But, he wants me to be a part of this mission. Which will lead to so many individuals' deaths. Would you rather run and hide, or show the three skeletons that you're up for the task? You're brave, after all, right?Right... I.. I can do this. They said that they wouldn't let anyone hurt me. Right, I can do this.

Closing their eyes and taking a deep breath in, Angel prepared themselves for their simple task of scaring the crowd. The rest would be up to the murderous skeletons. Angel exhaled and opened their eyes, nodding to the three. "Okay, I'll do it."

Killer's grin widened, his grip on his knives tightening. "I know you'll do great!" He encouraged them, then gave his signature laughter. Angel couldn't stop the grin that lifted their lips. His laughter was contagious, and surprisingly helped calm their anxious nerves. Turning towards the crowd, Angel breathed in deeply once more, held it for a few seconds before releasing it. I just have to scare the crowd, then go find a safe place to wait out the rest of the mission. With their task in mind, Angel hurried towards the crowd.

"They're something else, eheh." Horror chuckled, his grip on his axe tightening as he readied for the attack. "You shouldn't have included them." Dust said to Killer, the hooded skeleton's gaze remained on their human guest before looking at the crowd- specifically on one individual. "They're going to get hurt." "Aw," Killer's usual gruff voice was mixed with bloodlust. He was going to let his audience watch him and the boys in action, but there would be too much going on that would trigger his viewers. He may be a murderous monster, but he was careful with those he enjoyed having around; therefore he wished to protect them if he could.. Sorry, audience. There won't be any cool fight scenes this time.

"From this day forward, there will no longer be any more violence between mankind and monsters-" "It's a lie! While the ambassador, king and queen were speaking, they had monsters set out to kill innocent humans!" Angel shouted, startling the crowd and upsetting the King and Queen. "What-? That's not possible. Everyone is here-" "Then why did the monsters try to grab and kill me?!" Angel pointed to their still sore face, (how did they not start to bruise from their fall this morning?) "They're on their way here! I managed to escape them to warn you!"

"There are no monsters attacking humans! If you're just trying to start something-" The Undyne of the AU stepped forward, trying to stop the panic before it caused chaos.

"Oh no!"

"I see them! They're here!"

"Liars!"

The humans began to scatter like startled mice escaping their predator. Many humans shoved monsters out of the way, some even started to fight the monsters. The humans didn't play fair, either. Attacking the weaker monsters, while others didn't mind attacking the stronger ones.

The Queen called out to everyone, trying to get everyone under control again, but it was already too late. She gasped when she saw a monster jump into the frightened crowd, knife raised high above his head and landed on top of a monster. A blast of magic caught her attention, followed by painful and horrified screams. The Queen covered her mouth with her furry paws, her soul aching with dread and sadness as she watched not only the monsters, but the humans be slaughtered by these strange monsters. The bodyguards and security were quick to usher the King, Queen, and Ambassador off the stage and to a private black in color vehicle. However, before they could climb into the vehicle, a large and heavy axe came crashing down onto it, destroying the front end of the vehicle. Another monster stood before them with his dangerous and predatory grin. "Heh, no one's leaving, 'm afraid."

Chaos flared around the stage. No one bothered the retreating human as they hurried to a safer place and waited for the boys to finish. Honestly, Angel didn't really want to watch. As much as they enjoyed watching the boys playing their violent video games, Angel wasn't one for a front row seat to real violence. In fact, they could feel their heart racing with anxiety. They had to get to a safe place, where they could calm down and not think about what their favorite streamers were doing.

They didn't get very far when a familiar skeleton cut off their pathway to an empty shop. Angel struggled to stop before they ran into the skeleton. "Oh shit!" "heh, you're right. oh shit is right." This AU's Sans wasn't happy at all. Instead of going after Killer, Dust, or Horror, this Sans came after them. "got a question for ya, kid. you wanna have a bad time?" Angel tensed, but stood their ground. They straightened up their posture after having almost run right into Sans. They knew there was no lying their way out of this. It was Sans, after all. Hell, even if they told him the truth, Sans would still try to fight them. They were sure of it.

"I'd rather not have a bad time- Shouldn't you be trying to help your monster friends?" Angel asked, yet was shocked when Sans didn't get angry with them, or at least more than what he already was with them. "shouldn't you be helping your monster friends? where exactly did you four come from? i knew it wasn't a good idea to let those others stay." "You mean Dream and the Star Sans'?" As soon as they said it, they regretted it. Stupid! Why did you say that?! Sans narrowed his eye sockets, his grin tightening with uneasy and distrust. "you know them? are they a part of your team as well?" Angel thought about this for a moment, thoughts whizzing through their head as they thought their options over.

"I know of them, but I've never met them before. Dream is not on their team-" Angel started to explain. Sans cut them off, immediately. "whose team are you on? and don't think about lying to me, kid. i'll know if you are or not." Angel felt nervous, but they would be okay. The boys said they'd keep them out of harm's way. They just needed to get away from Sans, or at least distract him.

Killer's cackling echoed from the stage. Screams were heard, kids crying, and yelling as some humans and monsters fought against the Murder Time Trio. Angel turned to watch them. They left the young children alone, but killed the parents. Angel's heart squeezed in heartache for the children. The Ambassador would probably reset again, and judging by Sans' skull dripping with sweat, he didn't want that. Just thinking about it was making Angel regret their decision to help. This AU was finally getting to a happier chapter, and the Murder Trio swept in to tear away that peace. And worse of all, Angel had helped them with it.

Sans noticed the hesitation in Angel, the guilt and regret were written clearly on their expression. This AU's version of Sans was quick to summon a bone attack, aiming it right at Angel. An attack that was meant to strike down the enemy was wasted when Angel snapped out of their thoughts and dodged the sharpened bone. They stumbled on their feet and paused to look at Sans in shock, before they provided themselves a quick getaway; "I wouldn't waste my time with me. You better go check on your brother, instead."

This didn't help them in the least. Sans pretended to be relaxed, and unbothered at the idea of his brother being hurt. His grin grew tight from this intense situation. His eye lights were only white dots within his darkened eye sockets. "my brother can take care of himself, kid. you should worry about yourself instead." With this being said, Sans pulled Angel into an encounter. They hadn't thought about this happening, what if they weren't able to run away? What if Sans actually hurt them or worse? Angel took a deep breath, willing themselves to relax.

"I don't want to fight you." Angel said, refusing to fight and instead tried to reason with him. Sans chuckles once it was his turn and attacks them again. "sorry pal, i don't see eye to eye with you." He says, closing his right eye socket, while his left eye light ignited with his magic. Angel was able to dodge most of the bones sent their way, but got nicked in the arm a few times. Hissing in pain, Angel took a moment before they made their next move. Again, they refused to fight.

"Please, just let me go, Sans. I don't want to fight you. Go protect your brother and everyone." Angel told him. Sans' grin tightened, his eye sockets narrowed. "i never told you my name, kid." Angel froze, their eyes widening once he pointed out their mistake. Shit. Sans prepared his attack and sent a cascade of bones at them. This attack was harder to dodge, but Angel did their best to avoid getting too severely injured. They received several cuts, most were shallow. They knew they were going to be bruised up badly. One bone shot up from the ground and pierced through their left calf, tearing through skin and muscle. Angel cried out in pain as they fell to their knees once the bones disappeared.

Angel had a hard time catching their breath, the pain made it hard for Angel to focus on Sans. It was their turn now... They raised their head, shaking from the pain, and looked Sans directly in his eye lights with a look of determination. "I'm not going to fight you, Sans."

"jeez, kid." Sans chuckled, sweat dripping from his skull, unnerved by the stubbornness and determination this human had. "what's your deal, kid?" He chose to not fight this round, unsure if that was the right decision or not. Angel sighed and finally was able to spare Sans. "I wasn't lying when I told you that I didn't want to fight." Sans stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling uneasy about letting the human go. "I just don't understand you, kid." Sans sighs as his shoulders drop from the tension before walking over to the human and reaching out a skeletal hand to help them up.

"Hey."

Sans and the human jolted at the dark and murderous voice and looked over to see Dust standing nearby with his Gaster Blaster preparing for an attack. "Don't touch them." Angel bit back a scream, afraid that they'd be hit by Dust's attack. However, Sans had teleported away, only for Dust to already be two steps ahead of him. His Gaster Blaster shot the energy beam, decimating this AU's version of himself.

"Oh shit, Angel!" Killer was suddenly beside them, helping them to stand up. "That's a nasty wound there." The human released a heavy sigh, letting the tension fall from their shoulders. "It hurts like hell." They were still bleeding, but they were glad to see that Sans had missed hitting an artery. "Oh man, little one." Horror grumbles as he finally joins the two skeletons. He gave them a worried look, from their injured body to their contorted painful expression. "You alright? Lookin' pretty beat up there." The human nods. "You can say that again.. But, I think I'm alright. I just need to be taken to a hospital-"

"We can't do that, Angel. Thankfully! We have Cross! He knows a little about healing humans. Come on, let's get you back to the house." Killer said and gestured for Horror to pick them up. They yelped when they weren't quite prepared to be moved so suddenly, but relaxed in Horror's arms. "Don't worry, little one! I'll be gentle with ya. Good ole Cross will take care of you when we get back." Angel peered over his shoulder to see piles of dust and humans laying around. "You're all finished..?" They asked, feeling a little sick to their stomach. "Yeah," Dust responded first, his gaze fixed on the pile of dust from this AU's Sans, before turning to look at the human. "Sorry for not getting here sooner." The human slowly blinked before offering Dust a smile. "Don't worry, Dust. You made it over just in time. Thank you." Dust hummed as he looked away.

"Okay, seriously guys. Let's get our human home." Killer said, as he prepared for all of them to teleport home. He squeezed Dust's hand a little too tightly, letting Dust know that he was upset that the human was still showing favoritism towards Dust rather than Killer. Dust glanced over at Killer and grinned slyly. "They still like me better." "Ugh! Shut the fuck up, Dust!" Killer snarled as they teleported out of the AU.

---

"What did you guys do to them?" Cross asked, sounding exasperated as he looked over the human's injuries. They sat on the counter yet again, where Cross carefully looked at the injuries. "Dude! They fought a Sans, and won!" Killer exclaimed with his usual excitement. "Can you fucking believe it?! This amazing human fought another version of us and won!" He grins at Angel, nudging their side. Angel jolted from the bit of pain that came from his elbow pressing against their sore side. Yet, they laughed softly and felt their face flush from receiving such praise. "I actually thought I was going to die." "But, you didn't!" Killer's voice raised as he hyped them up. He suddenly turned towards his camera, his audience finally back to see the aftermath of the mission. "Did you hear that?! Angel fought against a Sans and won!"

Cross simply ignored Killer's excitable energetic self while he carefully rolled up the human's pant leg to get a better look at their wound. "This doesn't look too bad, but we do need to clean it. I don't think the Boss has anything for that, so I'll go grab some supplies from the store." He glanced up at the human, looking perfectly serious, just how he always did. "Stay put, I'll be back." Angel nodded and blinked a few times when Cross suddenly disappeared from sight.

Killer was busy talking to his audience, explaining to them how the mission went and the aftermath of his human's fight with that AU's Sans. Horror was busy cooking up some food, claiming that the monster magic will help with Angel's healing. Dust was already sprawled out on one of the sofas and snoring. Angel heard a noise and glanced over to see Nightmare slipping out of the shadows of the hallway and walked into the kitchen, his expression contorted to one of disgust.

"What the hell happened to the human?"

"Boss, Boss!" Killer spun around so quickly, Angel wondered if he gave himself whiplash. Did skeletons get whiplash? Hm, I wonder. "Angel fought a Sans and they won!" "Who the fuck is Angel?" Nightmare sneered, glaring at the energetic Killer. "Silly! It's our human here!" Nightmare's gaze left Killer to look at Angel. "Oh, uh. Good job." Nightmare pat their head, before noticing the nasty wound on their leg. "Why are you letting them bleed out in my kitchen?" Killer chuckled before turning to grab another towel to lay under Angel's leg. "This isn't really your kitchen, boss. Remember? It's CJ's." Nightmare sent a half-hearted glare to the annoying skeleton. "I don't care, you're allowing blood to containment the area where we cook." He then glanced over at Horror and narrowed his eye socket at him. "I'm surprised you're not getting upset with Killer for this."

"Hmm~ Huh? Oh, yeah. It's not sanitary to have blood near the food- but, it's okay, Night. We'll clean everything up!" Horror said before going back to humming while he finished up the little snack he was making for everyone. "Oh! Annnd~ Here we go!" He used his magic to summon the plates and silverware, placing the food on each plate before sending them to Killer, Angel, and Dust. Killer caught his plate, his food shifting a little from the impact. Angel gently took their plate and thanked Horror with a smile. Dust's plate fell on top of his face, smashing against him before falling onto the floor and spilling all of the food. Dust snorted and sat up, looking around. "Who the fuck did that?!" He snarled, angry that he was awoken from his nap. "Aw, Dusty Rusty Mus-" Horror began to say, pouting a little from his delicious food being wasted. "Finish that fucking name and I'll murder you." Dust threatened, his eye sockets narrowing as his eye lights went out.

Horror only laughed and took that as a challenge, his good eye socket narrowing as well. "Dusty Rusty Musty Poo~" Dust off the sofa in a split second, his Gaster Blaster summoned and ready to blast Horror away. Nightmare sighed in annoyance and sent his tentacles to grab Dust and pull him away. "No fighting in the house!" Dust sputtered as he freed an arm and pointed accusingly at Horror, who stood in place, giggling and happily chewing on his food. "Horror started it! What the fuck!" "Yeah? Well, I'm going to finish it!" Nightmare raised his voice, threateningly. Dust sputtered a moment longer before giving up and fell limp in Nightmare's hold. Pleased with this, Nightmare dropped Dust onto the floor, where Dust just laid and pulled his hood over his head even more. A clear message to not mess with him any longer.

"Okay," Cross appeared again, his arms full of human bandages and cleaning liquids. He dumped them on the counter beside the human. "Just so you know, this is going to hurt." Cross warned Angel, before he acknowledged Nightmare. "Oh, hi, Boss." "You didn't tell me you were back." Nightmare grumbled and crossed his arms. Cross frowned and tried to hide his face in his scarf. "I forgot..." Nightmare sighed as he pinched his nasal ridge. "Ugh, just don't let it happen again." Cross nodded as he got busy cleaning the human's wound. "Yes sir."

Cross began to work on cleaning around the wound before carefully cleaning the wound itself. Angel hissed from the pain, but managed to sit still for Cross to finish. The silly goofball of a skeleton known as Killer provided them with a distraction as he suddenly appeared beside Cross, his chin hovering just above Cross' shoulder. "What're you doing, Crossy?" Killer asked in his gravelly voice. This surprised Cross, making him almost hurt the human. He glared at Killer before shoving him back. "I'm taking care of your human. Why did you let them get involved in the mission? What would have happened if they died?" Killer laughed. "Oh, Crossy~ I knew the human was going to be okay. But, that's not important. What is, is where you have been all morning! I wanna know!"

Cross leveled a look at Killer from over his shoulder, before going back to fixing up the human's calf. "Boss gave me a solo mission. It's none of your business." Killer grinned, yet it didn't reach his eyes- in fact, his bone brow twitched from the irritation Cross was causing. "Aw, come on, Crossy~" Nightmare's heavy sigh hardly caught Killer's attention, as always; Cross and Angel glanced over at Nightmare, watching him struggle with trying to remain calm from Killer's antics. "I gave him the solo mission because I knew you fuck ups wouldn't be able to complete it!" Nightmare growled, glaring at Killer and Horror- Dust was still on the floor, snoozing. "Wait, what?" Horror asked, sounding a bit crestfallen. "Hey, that was really mean, Boss!" Killer playfully pouted, moving over to lean closer to Boss. "We didn't fuck up this last mission! We did exactly what you asked!" Angel frowned, their eyebrow raising in curiosity. "Nightmare wanted you to kill everyone?"

Nightmare glared at Killer, his tentacles whipping from his irritation. "We didn't kill everyone! Just the nobodies!" Killer explained, grinning at his Boss. "If I find out that you idiots caused another reset in that AU, I'm killing you." Angel felt bad for saying anything- "You're not really going to kill them, are you?" Nightmare turned his glare at Angel. "No." He grumbled. "I'm just going to beat the crap out of them." "Haha! I knew you cared, Boss!" Killer laughed, before he was suddenly tossed out of the kitchen by one of Nightmare's tentacles. "Whooa!"

Horror snickered and started to make more food. After all, Dust had wasted his food- even though it was somewhat his fault. Besides! He was still hungry! Oh! And don't forget about the human! They needed enough magic to help that wound and their sore body!

"There," Cross said as he finished wrapping their wound. He straightened up and offered a small smile to Angel. "It's not perfect, but you'll be fine." Angel smiled as they finished their snack. "Thanks a lot, Cross! I appreciate it!" Cross' face glowed from his purple blush, and he mumbled an embarrassed and quiet, "You're welcome." He hesitated for a moment before turning away and leaving to go spend his free time elsewhere.

"I hope you've had fun, human. It's time for you to go home." Nightmare said as he stepped closer and gave them a small glare. Angel smiled at him, which perplexed him. They should fear him! Or at the very least be uncomfortable around him. "I suppose I am ready to go home. Thank you for letting me come hang out with your boys. It was a lot of fun, even though I ended up hurt on a few occasions."

"What?!" Killer was suddenly in the kitchen, pouting at his boss. "Come on, Nightmare! Please, please, please don't send them home, yet!" Nightmare turned to face Killer and frowned at him. "I'm not sending them home; you're going to take them home. Take Horror and Dust with you." Killer perked up, excited to see which AU his favorite human fan lived. "Wait, really?!" He turned to grin at Angel, Horror and Dust having turned their attention towards the human. "Hear that, Angel? We're taking you home! I hope you're ready for me to see where you live! Heheh~ I just might stalk you, too!" He laughed. Angel was excited, yet nervous. They lived with their friend, and they were sure their roommate was home. "I can't wait." Angel said and smiled nervously.

This might end up in a disaster...

((Note from Author: I just want you all to know that literally half of what happened in this chapter was NOT on my plot list. -crying face-))

#yournaothings #chilling with the MTT #killer sans #horror sans #Dust sans #Nightmare Sans #Cross #XTale Sans #fighting #writing #cjdoesva #angerisflawed #blanksceneva #callmeslate #not shipping reader with the boys #platonic #friends #eventual found family

21 notes · View notes

lavenderskye29 · 1 year

Note

Not really an ask, I just wanted to say I love your Monkey Queen comic! And I’m guessing Monkey Queen is just as yandere as her male counterpart.

Oh thank you! 💙💙💙

Absolutely. In the case of yandere Monkey Queen she would be just as obsessed and in love with her Peaches as her male counterpart. Both Sun Wukongs treat their mate very similarly to one another, but there are some key differences between the two.

-First off, MQ (Monkey Queen) is a bit more empathetic to her mate’s distress and understands that it probably wasn’t ideal getting yoinked out of their own lives and into the lap of the realm’s most powerful demon and ruler. Nonetheless, MQ is almost cold in the way she handles her lover’s cries with her words being absolute and straightforward as they cling to her legs begging to be returned home. In MQ’s eyes, there’s no reason to delude or reason with her broken-hearted mate thinking it better to be honest with them to help them come to terms of their very permanent situation which is in contrast to MK (Monkey King), who hates to deal with the tears and instead likes to distract, threaten, ignore his lover when they start getting emotional.

(Both do, however, in the dark of the night or in the privacy of their room, hold their mate close and tight, hands caressing and voices soft as they coo and chirp consolingly as Peaches sobs. Both MQ and MK are affected a lot more than they would like to admit by their mate’s pain.)

-Another difference between the two, is MQ is not as aggressive as her male counterpart. Now don’t get me wrong, MQ is still incredibly aggressive… but with the lack of testosterone coursing through her body she doesn’t feel the need to compete so intensely with rivals. She takes a little more time to think about the situation at hand before jumping to action.

I mean, why fight for something that’s already yours?

So MQ will stand there, smile smug and eyes vicious, as a rival attempts to threaten/flirt with her (what demon lord wouldn’t want The Great and Mighty Monkey Queen as their wife?), not attacking until the fight has been initiated or until she has been horribly disrespected. Even then, the queen likes to play with her prey before going straight for the kill, being known to bully and taunt her competitor for a while before ending the fight, not unlike MK. But be warned, as soon as her human mate is made mentioned of, MQ will fly into a terrifying and bloody rage. Easily decimating the blathering idiot that dared approach her and made jest of her sweet, little Peaches.

After such a… event, MQ will return home, covered in blood and shaking with unburnt energy hungrily searching out Peaches before spending the night exhausting her remaining adrenaline on her confused unwilling mate, chanting incoherent rage-filled whispers against their neck and stomach nearly the entire time. The words are never meant for Peaches, but it frightens them nonetheless because they feel the anger oozing from the deep claw marks on their hips and the bruising bites littering their neck and shoulders the next morning, despite all of MQ’s attempts to tenderly nurture them afterwards.

- One of the last and few differences, is that MQ is a lot more paranoid about letting Peaches be alone than MK. Not that MQ is concerned about Peaches escaping (because if anything that’s just a fun game of Cat and Mouse), she is more concerned about the demons/celestial beings that would come to the mountain in search of leverage, treasure, or even worse… entertainment. She has had a few nightmares while away on conquests that showed her mate being taken or attacked by such beings, which usually leads to her blasting off on her nimbus to check in on Peaches before returning that same night.

Most of these dreams depict her once close friend and sister, Macaque, stealing Peaches away. MQ can’t help the burning anger that overtakes her after these dreams, nor can she chase away the jealousy sadness she feels at knowing that her mate would prefer her sister over her… that her mate would be happy never seeing MQ ever again… It’s in these moments that MQ has the most determination to never lose her Peaches. Not to anyone or anything.

#ask #yandere monkey queen #yandere sun wukong #sun wukong #headcanons #tw suggestive #tw violent

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itsthislake · 1 year

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AU where Shen Jiu kills the Protagonist

So I had this idea for a sv AU where the System glitches around the time Airplane transmigrates and for whatever reason has an error that makes it think that Character Luo Binghe is a Threat to the integrity of the Story and needs to be eliminated. So naturally, the system searches for the Character Most Likely To Kill Luo Binghe in the story: The Scum Villain, Shen Qingqiu.

Meanwhile, 12-year-old Shen Jiu who was recently captured by the Qiu family, is very confused and wary of this weird disembodied voice that suddenly recruited him for a mission. But hey, it offered to take him to his Qi-ge in exchange for completing the mission, so whatever! He’ll get rid of this “threat“ if that’s what it takes— whatever it is. But of course, he’s not dumb. He doesn’t trust this system as far as he can throw it (that is, not at all, since it doesn’t have a physical form) so he insists that he find Yue Qi first before finishing the mission, which the system agrees with the warning that Shen Jiu will be punished accordingly if he doesn’t complete the mission successfully.

So, the system guides him out of the Qiu estate and towards the city at the foot of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, where the system says is Yue Qi (14 years old). Though Shen Jiu refuses to believe it until he sees it with his own two eyes.

Shen Jiu makes it there just in time for the disciple selection and manages to get into Qing Jing peak. As soon as physically possible, he sneaks out or tricks a shixiong/shijie into giving him an errand to Qiong Ding (where the system said was Qi-ge) and asks around until he finds Yue Qi— who looks absolutely exhausted, but it’s before he has his qi deviation and gets trapped in the LingXi caves so he’s fine.

They have a tearful reunion, of course. Shen Jiu doesn’t tell Yue Qi about the system or the mission because it won’t let him, but he easily spins a story of how he saw his chance to escape and took it. Yue Qi apologizes for not being faster, but Shen Jiu just calls him an idiot. Honestly, he’s been an outer disciple of Qiong Ding for six months, what is he going to accomplish at that point?

With them training together (for the eventuality that Qiu Jianluo comes back for Shen Jiu or something) and without having their cultivations damaged, they soon start to climb up the ranks in their respective peaks. It doesn’t take long before their Shizuns notice them make them head disciples, at ages 15 and 17 respectively. Yue Qi gets his spiritual sword, Xuan Su, and the brothers celebrate together.

The war against Tianlang-Jun happens in the background. From Shen Jiu’s POV, all he knows is that his Shizun and Qi-ge had to go fight a Demon Lord with Huan Hua Palace while he had to stay in the peak because he doesn’t have his spiritual sword yet. He distracts himself by doing the work his Shizun can’t do because they’re too busy with the battle.

Anyhow, they both come back safely and Shen Jiu fusses over Yue Qi to kingdom come. Yue Qi is fine, if a little shaken, and has nightmares for a while after, but nothing too bad. He also becomes extra busy picking up the slack after his own Shizun because they got injured during the war and have to rest or something.

After coming back, the Qing Jing Peak Lord takes Shen Jiu (age 16) to get his sword, Xiu Ya. And then, not long after, the system tells Shen Jiu to head to a certain village near the Luo River and wait for an abandoned boat to appear so he can intercept it.

His mission, the system explains, will be completed once he kills the person inside the boat.

Thus, Shen Jiu asks his Shizun for some time off for a personal matter and goes to where the system tells him to. He finds the boat easily enough. He doesn’t expect to find an abandoned newborn child in it.

Shen Jiu finally demands answers from the system. Why it wanted this child dead four years ago, when he hadn’t even been born yet, and why it chose Shen Jiu to do this in the first place.

In response, the system shows him what happened in canon PIDW— how Luo Binghe would grow up to destroy Cang Qiong, torture Shen Jiu, and kill Yue Qi, among other things.

Shen Jiu is shaken, but he knows one thing for certain. He cannot let that happen. He cannot let Yue Qi die.

If it’s for his Qi-ge, he’d do anything.

#god that ending is so angsty #might fuck around and write this one for real #if anyone else wants to write this idea tho..... pls tag me lol #i wanna read it too #svsss #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #svsss au #scum villian self saving system #lake's musings #Shen Jiu kills the Protagonist AU #fanfic

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oneshotnewbie · 6 months

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Hii hope you're doing ok?! Just wondering if you're gonna write a new chapter of the Rabbit Hole story? I've been dying to know the end 😁 your stories are amazing by the way ☺️

Authors note: You've waited too long for the next step in the story and here it is. It doesn't seem to be as exciting as the last chapters, but the storm is brewing. (Thanks for the compliments ♥)

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of life-threathing wouds and trauma. The plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

„Life-threathening knife wounds in the right kidney and stomach. That bastard almost killed you,“ Olivia mumbled quietly and with a broken voice to herself while sitting at your hospital bed. A dim light filtered through the curtains, gently illuminating the bare room. She sits there restlessly, with a book on her lap that she had long since forgotten. Her eyes are only focused on your pale body, smeared with tears as she held your hand tightly in hers and gently stroked your fingers. You laid there motionless with bandages and medical equipment all around you, your gentle breathing the only sign of life that came from you as your chest was moving up and down.

The normally tough detective breathed in and out slowly, trying to stay calm even though the room was filled with a tense atmosphere. "I wish I could go back in time, put a bullet between his eyes and prevent this nightmare," she whispered and felt sick instantly, her chest like there were a ton of rocks sitting on it to prevent her from breathing. You had barely survived, and she swallowed hard at the thought of losing you while gently stroking your arm, feeling the cold of your skin through the fabric of the hospital blanket.

Her fingers gently grasped your hand as she loses a quiet tear that slowly rolls down her cheek. "It feels like everything exploded in a second and I was not able to offer you any protection,“ her expression reflected concern and desperation as she listened to the beeping of the monitors in the background, the quiet whirring of the equipment filling the room with a calming rhythm. The brunette lowered her head as she tried to control her emotions, her thoughts seem caught in a jumble as she struggled to stay strong.

But her brain took her back to the previous day, where Olivia stormed into your apartment with the help of Elliot and the SWAT. As soon as her boots landed with a cracking sound on one of your carpets, soaked with shattered glass and blood, she felt the heaviness of her stomach press against her heart. The blood had stained the fibers of the once cream colored carpet and as she gradually pushed her way further into your apartment before your bound and motionless body appeared in front of the couch.

These images seared themselves into her mind, leaving wounds too large to bear. A small sob escaped Olivia and she removed her hand from yours to touch your forehead, as if she wanted to feel your temperature, hoping for some sign of improvement. But everything remains unchanged. "Please wake up. I miss your laughter. Your voice. Your presence. It is like a part of me is here in the hospital. I keep wondering if you can hear me. If you know I am here and that I fight for you because I love you" she straightened herself in her uncomfortable chair, sitting up straight and looking at you with a mixture of hope and despair as she confesses her love for you to your unconscious body for the very first time.

Olivia pressed her lips together to suppress another surge of emotions. The head of the Special Victims Unit looked exhausted, but her eyes showed determination and deep concern for you. She gently kissed the back of your hand to show you closeness. "I am scared, y/n. I am scared for you. I do not want to lose you. I can not stand the thought of a future without you so please fight. Fight for your life, for us." Leaning back once again, she wiped the tears from her face as she continues to hold your hand and stare into space, lost in thought. The brunettes gaze fell on the surroundings of the hospital room and lingered in the quiet calm.

The minutes passed slowly, with Olivia's gaze often returning to your facial features before she had to let go of you. Work called, she still had a lot to do to complete your case. After all, your ex-boyfriend escaped through a back door and got away. „I will be back tonight, sweetheart. Do not fool around while I am gone,“ she spoke softly with a slight smile on her lips and just as she was about to lean in and give you a gentle kiss on the forehead, a twitch stirred in her hand and she jumped back into the chair.

Pale and purple bruised skin touched her tentatively and her heart started to skip a few beats. Olivia´s heat lifted itself carefully along your arm, her sight landed on your open, red tainted eyes. With a gulp, she felt relief well up in her as a look of hope and joy crossed her face. „Liv,“ you mouthed with a gnarly voice, your vocal cords feeling like rusty chains struggling to get going. You were audibly under the influence of painkillers and heavy drugs. But what Olivia heard as flat in your voice was not medication. That was the sound of a person who had experienced so much suffering, that along with all the bones and organs in their body, the soul was broken at the core. In a thousand separate pieces. „I am here, y/n.“

„Is it over?“ you asked quietly, weakened and tired from the unspeakable pain you had to endure. The addressed lowered her gaze back to the covers, barely able to meet your begging eyes. Olivia could almost feel the storm brewing in our head when she did not answer that question firmly and clear within seconds. You seemed stunned to her and she was sure that it was a sign of the overwhelm that this unexpected news must have triggered. She shook her head almost visibly and silently.

„He tricked us. Henry got away from me,“ she shook her head almost invisibly to express her remorse. You turned pale, your right hand gripping your hospital gown nervously and your boss was afraid, you were disappointed in her. After all, she had made a promise that she could not hold. You blinked as if something had caught in your eye, but instead you tried to lure the tears, that were forming, back to their source. „Every cop in Manhattan is looking for him, he will not get far. We set up roadblocks and his face is on every news channel.“

„Henry always finds a way,“ there were wounds, which could never be seen on the body. They were deep inside, hurting harder than anything that could break or bleed. Olivia knew very well that these wounds were racing through your soul like a train at this given moment. "Next time our paths cross, I will be dead."

Before the older one could encourage you that she would not allow something like that to happen again and would protect you with all her potential, a gentle knock on your door tore you out of your conversation, followed by the sudden creak of a plastic chair, on which Olivia quickly turned around. Her hand already on the holster of her gun out of reflex and protection. You both glanced across the room in surprise, looking like caught lovers.

Elliot had carefully pushed open the door to the room, his steps slow on the shiny linoleum floor. There was a hint of fear on his face, mixed with the faint hope of improvement. "Hey, can I come in?" He asked, smiling happily when he saw you awake. He waited respectfully for an answer from you and slowly pulled a bouquet of flowers in front of his body, which he had recently kept secret behind the door. "Of course."

The bald-headed man hesitantly approached, his heart pounding violently in his chest. He had just come from your apartment, where the forensics were securing any evidence relevant to Henry's arrest, and immediately made his way to you after the team had left. "Are the flowers for me?" Olivia asked, trying to lighten the mood in the room, knowing your mind was still stuck on the past crime that was done to you. You tried to smile, trying to pull the blanket tighter to your body as a cold rush of air passed through the room. "No," he commented, looking at the visitor at the edge of the bed who had been his best friend for several years.

Olivia smiled, and she did it even more unsurely than you, which was probably because she did not know how to act. You could tell she wanted to get up and hug him. After all, he helped her save you, but she did not want to let go of the human's hand for which she had stood up in fear of death. "The flowers are for the lovely lady in this bed,"

He stayed close to you, talking to you about whatever stuff to distract you from your thoughts. Time seemed to stand still before the door opened once again and your doctor entered the room, followed by a nurse carrying a tray full of medication. "I am sorry, but you have to say goodbye now. There are still a few tests and follow-ups to be done," the doctor said calmly and in a familiar voice. Olivia wanted to resist leaving you, but Elliot took her hand and pulled her from her seat without saying a word. "We will take care of her, she can receive visitors later that day."

The brunette nodded in understanding, reluctantly leaving your presence. One last loving look was exchanged between her and you before she left the room, with a heart heavy with worry but with happiness for the return of your familiar soul.

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james-stark-the-writer · 5 months

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i have been writing a paper for a class for coming up on a continuous 10 hours now and i've only just reached the minimum page limit and only analyzed one of the two texts i was supposed to be analyzing, and i still have obviously not gotten to a conclusive argument so,,,,,,, i'm so fucking tired. and this paper is fucking due noon tomorrow so i have to finish it before i go to sleep tonight bc ik i'm not going to wake up early to finish it so like my life is a nightmare. thankfully, the second text is way shorter and easier to talk about, but i have only managed to write 9 pages in 10 hours, it is genuinely so exhausting writing this, and it's not even because i don't know what to write, it's that there's just so much shit to fucking write about like i could make this a 30-page paper but my professor knows me and she has given me a max limit of 15 pages so i'm trying to keep it contained, and figure out which like the most important pieces to my arguments are but also i'm writing about like entire novels so it is hard to fully get all of my thoughts and arguments across because so many of them are built like a scaffolding on top of each other so it is very difficult to know where to even begin and what to cut out and like if i make this a full 30 page paper i can't then cut it down to a 15 page paper because the structure of the arguments won't work and i would have to end up rewriting the whole thing anyway so i'm trying to get it right the first time so it requires minimal editing and it is really annoying but i am at least at my minimum page limit so whatever the fuck i write now just has to be good enough to get an A on this assignment which should be easy bc i do really like everything i have so far (even if it needs a little restructuring) so i just literally have to like analyze the other text in a few pages and really condense it and write a conclusion (these are herculean tasks) and then i'll be done but that's going to take like another three fucking hours and i have no coffee and i am starting to feel the effects of sleep on my brain so genuinely just i hate everything. i even have to write another paper tomorrow which i haven't even started but thankfully that's due at midnight and it's only like four pages so i can do that pretty easily but this one is fucking killing me.

#james talks #back to writing the paper we go.#i will be so happy if i never have to analyze a Jane Austen text for a paper again bc girl there is simply so much to say

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goodluckdetective · 3 months

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TUMBLR VERSION

FIC: SLEEPING GIANTS 1/2

Ship: Durge/Astarion

Fandom: BG3

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore

Rating: M

AO3

Summary:

Astarion earns his freedom covered in Cazador’s blood. The Former Chosen of Bhaal earns their freedom drowning in their own. A look at two different aftermaths of breaking free.

Notes:

Hello and welcome to whatever this is. Like one part “the horror of being controlled and falling in love with someone who knows that same horror” one part “you can kill the puppeteer but the scars from the strings don’t leave as soon as you cut them” one part “the game doesn’t have time for a long introspection after these two big scenes but that’s why fanfic writers exist” and one part “uses durge and Astarion as character foils and enjoys the light bouncing back and forth.” The background ships are very background which is why they aren’t in the main tags. The title comes from the Crane Wives Song of the same name. This is two chapters but each can be read on their own. The second chapter I'm aiming to have up in like two weeks max? (I also want to shoutout edelgarfield's series "cardinal, sunrise, morning star" which gave me the idea to do the Urge sections in second person. It's fantastic and you should read it.)

FIC BELOW:

Ever since Rune heard the name Cazador Starr, they’d thought about killing him.

It was a nice use of channeling the Urge when it got bad, turning the desire to tear and maim onto a worthy target. Rune had pictured casting hold monster to hold the man in place while they’d cast lightning bolt right between Starr’s eyes. They’d considered using insect plague and watching as bugs tore the man apart piece by piece as he screamed for death that wouldn’t come. Once they’d learned how to cast Daylight, they’d smiled at the mental image of forcing the vampire lord to stick his head directly into the sphere.

Like Rune’s other urges, they resisted acting on them (though they did relish casting Daylight right in front of Starr’s face). But that resistance was only so Astarion could get the kill instead. It was his to have; Rune was not going to take it from him unless they were asked to.

(If Astarion had died, if you had failed to get him free before the dark ritual completed, then Cazador Starr would be dead by your hand. You would ensure he lived long enough to know the agony he deserved. You’d kept Bonedaughter’s notes about what she’d done to you, back in Moonrise. One could get very clever with torture when someone refused to die. You thought of taking inspiration from the kennels, when you’d looked at the history of your lover’s suffering and saw potential instead-)

Rune pushed the thought out of their head and shook off the sneer that started to creep across their face. They had to keep it together, keep the Urge under lock and key. Astarion, who was currently covered in the blood of his 200 year nightmare, could not afford for Rune to lose it.

They watched as Astarion wept on the stone tiles, wanting to embrace him but knowing it might not be wanted. Instead, they stepped close enough so if Astarion desired, he could easily reach out and touch them. They didn’t get a chance to see what he would choose because the rest of Astarion’s siblings came to greet them. As the matter of settling the spawn was resolved and the fate of the Gur’s children revealed, Rune spoke only to clarify events and back up whatever Astarion decided. It wasn’t until they made it out of the palace that they said anything somewhat resembling an order, and even then, they chose each word with care.

“We can call it a day after this if people need it,” Rune said, looking at Astarion. Everyone needed the rest, they were all exhausted, but Rune would not force such a thing. Should Astarion wish to keep going, Rune would send Shadowheart and Karlach back to camp before sharing a list of tasks that were mostly errands, but essential ones; buying potions, collecting materials. Things Astarion could do with shaky hands and an unsteady step. He wasn’t physically hurt, Shadowheart had ensured that. Should Astarion need to keep busy, to put off the part of the day where he could sit down and take it all in, then Rune would ensure he had it.

Rune was well practiced quieting their own loud thoughts with busywork.

Astarion agreed to the rest, and Rune mentally filled away their list of busy tasks for later. Instead, the party headed back to the Elfsong where they had decided to set up camp ever since Astarion’s siblings tried to drag him back. It wasn’t as good as a private residence, but vampires would still need to be invited into their rooms should they wish to enter, and that was far better security than the open air. With Cazador dead, they could save some coin by camping outside again, but Rune knew Astarion would want some privacy, and that was better obtained in their shared rooms.

As they approached the Elfsong, Rune took a look at their partner. Astarion had put his armor back on, but he was still drenched in blood. That would draw some attention, even in a place used to mercenaries.

Back in the mansion, between freeing the spawn and running into the Gur, Rune had handed him each piece of armor after Astarion asked for them. They watched as Astarion struggled to secure the clasps and resisted the urge to help, knowing they needed Astarion to ask for their assistance first, less they bring back memories Astarion wished he could forget.

“Shadowheart, Karlach, go ahead,” Rune said. Karlach tilted her head, and when Rune nodded, she grabbed Shadowheart’s shoulder. They departed inside the tavern, Karlach pulling the door behind her so it didn’t slam shut. Astarion didn’t even notice them leave. Frankly, he didn’t seem to notice anything at all, a wide eyed blank expression to his face that Rune was horribly familiar with. Rune reached for the clasps on their cloak and released it from their armor, before holding it out to Astarion. He turned to look at them, but that vacant expression was still there, like he was looking through Rune rather than at them.

“To hide the blood a bit, until we get to our rooms,” Rune explained, lifting the cloak higher. “So people don’t stare.” They would have cast invisibility on him, but they’d burned through most of their energy entering the mansion and fighting Cazador. If they knew it wouldn’t upset Astarion later, they would overextend themselves and cast it anyway.

(You cast far more spells than you should have, hoping for a brief glimpse of fear on Cazador’s face when your lightning bolt tore through his assembled minions. You’d hoped he knew what you were, you saw the book in his chambers after all; he’d been reading about Bhalspawn. Would he know what he’d brought down upon himself, for treating Astarion as a stain on his shoe? Would he realize you were the most dangerous thing in his manor turned tomb? )

Astarion’s gaze sharped and he took a quick breath in, like he’d been rapidly thrust back into his body from wherever he’d mentally gone. Rune forced themself away from the Urge in tandem. He took the cloak and wrapped it around himself, putting up the hood. It was a little large on him, Rune was taller than the vampire by half a foot, but in these circumstances, that was ideal. Rune heard him mumble something that sounded like a thank you.

He didn’t need to thank them: not for this. Rune held out a hand, should Astarion want to grab it, and when he didn’t, lowered it without comment.

“Let’s go straight to the room. Follow me.”

The Elfsong was loud and boisterous at this hour, people settling in for the evening. A bard played a jaunty tune on their fiddle on one of the stages and Rune briefly wanted to smash their instrument for daring to be so cheerful. No one paid them much mind as they went directly to the stairs and headed up to the rooms on the second floor. The room to the main suite was open and Rune glanced at everyone as they walked inside. Everyone else was crammed inside the small space, almost comically so, paying attention to Shadowheart who was talking in a low whisper. Likely explaining what happened in the depths of the Starr palace.

Rune walked past the group, shaking their head at everyone inside before Astarion followed behind them. Their room was close to the entrance and Rune closed the door behind Astarion as soon as he was inside.

“Alright, we’re here.” Rune took a look at the tiny room and their gaze went instantly to the wooden bathtub in the far right corner. It was an extra cost to obtain at the Elfsong, but given everyone hadn’t had a proper bath in weeks, it was worth the coin. Rune didn’t really get much out of baths, they didn’t find the way of bathing relaxing with the Urge constantly humming in the background, but they understood how it might be appealing to someone who didn’t deal with their particular affliction. They turned back to Astarion. He wasn’t quite looking through everything anymore, but he still seemed lost, his gaze darting all over the room.

“If you want, I can run you a bath. For the blood.” Rune regretted the addition as soon as it left their mouth. What else would the bath be for? Stupid, stupid. “Would you like that?”

Astarion snapped his head up to look at them. When he spoke, his tone was as sharp as his fangs. “I can run my own bath, I’m not an invalid.”

Rune expected this at some point; the deflection, the attempt to hide away his own wounds by lashing out at others. They didn’t take the bait, instead focusing on their main point.

“That’s not an answer.”

The fight drained out of Astarion in an instant. His shoulders drooped, a sigh escaping his lips. He looked so very tired.

“Yes, you may,” he said and with that, Rune got to work.

The wooden tubs at the Elfsong were enchanted, which Rune suspected was why they had such a high rental price. By activating the cantrips on the side, one could fill or empty the tub with water without going to the task of bringing water up from the kitchen. Heating said water was another matter, and for that, Rune’s magical powers would suffice. They stuck their hand into the water once it filled the tub and cast Prestidigitation. Steam came off the top of the surface, not hot enough to burn but enough to be pleasant, and they removed their hand, wiping off the excess water onto their robes. When they turned to Astarion, he’d already peeled himself out of his armor, but his smallclothes remained. Rune gestured to the tub.

“Alright, it should be fine.” They got back onto their feet and took a step away from the tub. “I can wait outside if you want, or go downstairs.”

Rune would prefer to stay, if this was their decision to make. Not to gaze at Astarion’s body, but to be able to remind themselves that he was alive, that the ritual had failed.

There was a moment, back at the manor, when Rune thought it was all over. When they’d looked to their side to see Astarion gone, suddenly across the room in the same hellish bindings as his fellow spawn. In that instant, before Astarion screamed at them to free him, they’d feared the ritual was done, that Cazador had succeeded. That all that would remain of a man who responded to their heritage with empathy and stole them extra ink for their journal was their memories and the cruel visage of Cazador Starr.

No, Rune would rather stay. Here, they could easily remind themselves how things had actually gone. But should Astarion want them to go, they would. They would walk downstairs, order a pint of ale, and rely on their faulty memory to remind them.

Astarion walked over to the tub and poked the surface of the water. It rippled, and he looked down in it, like he thought he could see his own reflection if he waited long enough. After a moment, he looked back to Rune.

“Stay?”

Rune nodded and went to pull over a chair to sit in as Astarion fully undressed and got in the water. Before they sat down, they grabbed Astarion’s armor and pulled it over to the chair. After they were seated, they got started casting prestidigitation on Astarion’s armor. The blood came off easily enough and when they were done, they looked up at the vampire. Astarion was sitting in the tub, knees curled up to his chest, and wiping blood off his arms. It turned the water a light pink.

“Want me to talk or no?” Rune offered, noting a distant look creeping back into Astarion’s eyes.

“Talk. Please not about-“ Astarion cut off, shuddering. “Anything else.”

Rune wracked their brain for an appropriate topic. Anything related to the Gortash, Bhaal or the Elder Brain was a bad idea. Magical theory could work, Rune was picking up a bit from Gale, but they would rather not bore Astarion to death. After some consideration between choosing one of Volo’s stories to mock (potentially fun, but then they’d have to go to the effort to remember one of his stories) or Rune’s thoughts on the decor of the Elfsong (alright, but Shar’s temple and the Goblin’s base had set the bar low), they finally stumbled upon something with potential.

“I’ve been trying to convince Gale to let me be his wingman if he decides he wants to get back out there,” Rune mused. They knew they had the perfect topic when Astarion snorted, bubbles coming up on the tub. The conversation of Gale’s post-Mystra rebound was a topic of the camp, and for good reason; Gale seemed to have finally realized his former relationship with the Goddess wasn’t a healthy one. Recently Wyll saw him trying to flirt with another wizard from Sorcerous Sundries, use of illusions included. Given the amount of dark topics that dominated camp these days, the party had jumped to gossip over such low stakes.

Gale thankfully didn’t mind and appeared a combination of amused and touched by their collective interest in his happiness. He’d indulged them by offering to consider letting one of them play wingman and Lae’zel, Wyll and Rune had all jumped at the opportunity. Wyll had offered because he was deeply enamored with true love and romance. Rune had offered because they hated Mystra.

Lae’zel had offered because Astarion bribed her with a nice amount of gold pieces to throw her hat in the ring. That, and she was determined to prove that her direct “I want to taste you” approach did actually work on more than just Shadowheart.

“So far, he seems to be favoring Wyll’s pitch,” Rune continued, leaning back in the chair. It felt nice to relax somewhat. They hadn’t realized how tense they’d been sitting until then. “He wants to take Gale to a local bar favored by mages around here, which I will admit, isn’t a bad idea.”

Astarion hummed. He was no longer curled into a ball, instead scrubbing away the blood on his torso.

“But if I can convince Karlach to tell me where she used to go after working out, I think I might manage to change his mind.” Convincing Karlach to do so would be difficult, Rune thought, as she was unofficially on Wyll’s team. But Rune wasn’t above bribery and they’d managed to loot a rather shiny greataxe that they thought might loosen her lips.

“You think he’s looking for someone muscular?”

“Did you hear what he said about “invigorating stimulation” back when we were fighting those goblins? If he’s looking for that kind of “stimulation” then Karlach’s old haunts are the best bet.”

Astarion chuckled and Rune hid their grin by ducking their head down. It wasn’t his full laugh, Rune didn’t expect to hear that after the day he’d had, but Gods it was nice to see him smile and mean it.

They continued like that, talking about other silly gossip, until Astarion was done. Rune threw him a towel and watched his eyebrows raise as he pressed his hand into the fabric.

“Did you warm this towel?”

Rune had, using prestidigitation a few seconds earlier. They’d gotten the idea from Wyll, who back at Last Light, had given out freshly warm blankets to those they’d freed from Moonrise Towers after their prison break. Rune took note of how the prisoners seemed to relax as they touched the warm fabric. Interesting how such small comforts still provided solace after such terrible cruelty.

“Too much?”

Astarion was already wrapping it around himself. “No, it’s perfect.” He shifted his weight from one foot to another and looked to Rune with a conflicted expression. “I need some time to think.”

Rune got up and headed towards the door. Astarion had gone through a lot today and Rune knew what it was like to have a lot on the mind. “No problem. I’ll be around if you need me. You can use the tadpole if it’s an emergency.”

Astarion relaxed and nodded once. Satisfied he would call for them if needed, Rune left the room and closed the door behind them. The rest of their companions were still in the main suite living space and they all turned to Rune as they left. They’d clearly been hovering; the book in Gale’s lap was one Rune knew he already read twice over and if Lae’zel kept sharpening that dagger, it might chip.

Rune adored them all. Despite all their respective burdens, all of them were happy to make a detour to take down Cazador. It was the same with saving Wyll’s father or helping Shadowheart find her parents or potentially breaking into Hell for Lae’zel. They all cared.

If this was what having a family felt, like no wonder people were so found of theirs.

“How’s Fangs?” Karlach asked, fiddling her thumbs together. Rune walked forward and shrugged.

“Processing; he asked for some time alone. Now,” they reached into their pockets and pulled out their journal, opening it up to where they kept a ribbon as a bookmark. “Let’s talk about supplies and inventory.”

The resounding groan from the rest of the party was a welcome sign of normalcy.

__________

After an hour and a half of debating what to sell and what to keep, shortly followed by dinner, Rune headed downstairs to the first floor of the tavern. They would have normally stuck to the rooms, content with the company, but they couldn’t stop looking at the door to their own room and fretting about the vampire inside. So to alleviate their temptation to hover, they instead put their journal back in their pocket, grabbed one of their lighter bags, and decided to try some of the Elfsong’s famous ale.

They walked to the bar and took a seat, gesturing to the bartender and ordered said ale, which the bartender dutifully delivered moments later. After taking a sip, Rune closed their eyes, and took in the noise of the tavern. It was nice, they thought, to sometimes be surrounded by the hum of life. They could hear two men arguing about a business deal away from the bar. Somewhere to their left, a woman was flirting with someone and if the lack of response was any indication, failing rather miserably at it. The sound of a lute warming up to play rang from the stage where the bard was seated.

( You knew so many ways strings could be used for more interesting means. Garrotting, tying up prey, even cutting flesh if held tight enough. )

Rune kept drinking. The Urge was always there, and the more they focused on it, the worse it would get. It was best to just acknowledge its presence like an unwelcome houseguest and continue on with everything. They took another sip of their ale, trying to pinpoint the flavor. It tasted a little floral. Karlach was right; it was rather good compared to what they’d had on the road.

(I t would be so easy to kill everyone here. You could do it in an instant. Circle of Death is such a fantastic spell for wrecking ruin in such cramped spaces.)

The bard started a new song and Rune tapped their foot along to the beat, trying to work out some restless energy. After another sip of ale, they decided the drink, while not the best they’d ever had, was quite the deal for the price. Rune wondered if the food was as good; maybe Gale could take a day off cooking duty. Then again, the chef had said something about rats in the basement.

( That would be the best way to do it. You could go to the basement. No one would be able to see you cast down there, no one would even think to cast Counterspell.)

Sure, they could do that, but they weren’t going to, so they weren’t going to focus on it. They just had to-

( How do you know what you’re going to do? Remember Alfira? )

Rune gripped the glass of ale tighter as they placed it back onto the counter. The tavern seemed louder now, more crowded. The bard’s song, a jaunty little tune meant for dancing, picked up the pace.

( Did you know Circle of Death has a thirty feet effect radius? If you cast it just at ceiling level, you could get the second story too. You could even spare the rats ).

Was the bard’s lute off pitch when they started? It didn’t seem like that earlier. It was likely in their head,

( Your companions would be struck too. You wouldn’t likely kill them all but you’d kill the weaker ones for sure. Though wasn’t everyone weak compared to you, a child of a God ?)

It felt hotter in the tavern too. Rune felt someone brush past them, and went stock still, their eyes still closed. They could feel sparks coming off their hand not holding the ale. It would be so easy to reach out and shock anyone who passed by.

( How ironic would it be, for the sad little spawn, finally free of his master, to die as the rats scurried alive and well below. )

Rune’s eyes flew open and they stood up so fast that the chair behind them fell to the ground. A few people turned to look at them. Even the bard ceased playing, noticing the minor commotion. The bartender faced them, brows furrowed in a mix of alarm and concern.

(How concerned would they be, if they knew what you truly were?)

Rune left the ale unfinished, threw a tip for the bartender and made towards the stairs, paying no attention to anyone who tried to stop them. They did not halt at the second floor, instead heading straight for the windows at the end of the hall. It was twilight now, and Rune was thankful for it as they opened the latch.

Rune climbed out the windows and onto the roof. The roof was safer than the tavern, the most accessible collateral damage local pigeons. The Urge did not stop its issessant blathering as they made their way onto the shingles, but it did become less loud in the cool air.

They managed to find a spot to sit that was not entirely uncomfortable and pulled out their journal from their pocket. Journaling was grounding, a way to focus on anything but the Urge whispering in their ear. Next, they grabbed a piece of charcoal from their bag that they keep wrapped in cloth to keep it from staining everything. In the section of their journal where they kept unfinished tasks, they crossed off “help A. kill C.S if he wants” with more force than what was needed. Unlike most of their “to do” list, it was surrounded by completed tasks, as Rune wrote it down back even before the Tiefling party at the Grove.

Astarion knew Rune kept a journal, everyone did, but Rune hadn’t told him how early they’d decided to help him eliminate the Vampire Lord. They were worried he’d chalk it up to nothing but affection for his act, and Rune wasn’t sure they’d be able to fully convince him otherwise. To be fair, affection had played a factor, though it was affection for Astarion’s understanding of their own bloodlust and mystery novels rather than his honeyed lines. But a much larger part was that when Rune learned that spawn had to follow every order their sire gave them, helpless to fight back, they felt a murderous rage that had nothing to do with the Urge.

I cannot let that happen to anyone else , Rune had thought back then, even though they could not place where the feeling had come from. I refuse. And they’d written down their commitment to do as such before Astarion had even considered killing Cazador as something that could be accomplished.

Even now, while they’d mostly helped kill Cazador because Astarion wanted to, there was a part of them that was delighted to help because Cazador was a puppeteer that could be beaten. If Rune couldn’t free themselves from the God of Murder, at least they could free Astarion from his own bonds.

They felt guilty for that feeling, even if it was a small thing. A drop in an ocean of guilt really. They were lucky they hadn’t drowned.

They looked at the other tasks on their list. There were some they could easily handle now; crushing materials for potions, reading a book they’d gotten that they hoped might provide some insight into Karlach’s eternal engine, organizing a backlog of spell scrolls they’d picked up. Their next big task kept drawing their attention, and they ran their thumb past “save Duke Ravenguard” and watched the charcoal smear. It would have to be soon if they wanted any chance of finding him alive. And that would require making an enemy of Gortash.

Rune didn’t care about making an enemy of Gortash exactly. It was more the complications that came with it that troubled them. Gortash knew more about who Rune used to be than Rune themselves and that made him dangerous. Would Rune’s plans still work as intended if Gortash devoted himself fully to thwarting them? Would he seek to complicate the lives of Rune’s friends by allying with the Sharrans or sending his Steel Watch to torment the refugees? Gortash knew enough about Rune to somewhat predict them even with their changes in personality, but Rune still knew less about him than Karlach did.

Rune knew Gortash stayed his hand out of fondness for who Rune used to be (as well as hatred of Orin). Should Rune truly disrupt his plans, he would discard that fondness for a person who was, if Rune was lucky, gone. All that would be left from Gortash was rage that Rune remained wearing his friend’s face.

Friend was probably not the right word, Rune thought, shuddering. They didn’t think Gortash and their former self were capable of love, but they absolutely had been fucking. If Rune asked, Gortash could probably tell them what scars they’d obtained since they vanished, maybe even how Rune got them, and when he died, he would know the history of Rune’s body more than themselves.

Well, that was a nauseating thought. Best not to think about that one, especially given that Rune’s current partner was a floor below reeling what might be one of the most traumatic days of his life. Rune could unpack that properly once they were free of the tadpoles. And helped Shadowheart find her parents. And found a solution to Karlach’s engine and-

Well, eventually. Just not now.

Instead of thinking more about the current Archduke, Rune instead began dividing up tasks for the next day. Wyll would have to come with Rune while they investigated leads for his father, and Karlach would be good to have on hand should they get dire news. Everything Rune knew about comforting people was learned from watching Wyll, and they could use Karlach’s help if news about the man’s father was tragic. They would also be a good pair to help Rune to dig up more about Orin’s murder plot, given their knowledge of the city. If Astarion was up for it, he’d be an excellent addition as well; otherwise, Jaerhia’s would be an good choice. While they were off doing that, Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale could continue looking for leads on where the Temple of Bhaal might be located. Orin had promised Rune that Halsin would be safe as long as Rune focused their ire on Gortash, but Rune was not going to place their trust in their murderous sibling.

They’d made that mistake once, back when they were something cruel. They would not make it again.

A half an hour must have passed before Rune heard someone else scramble onto the window below. They prepared a cast of ray of frost until they saw white curls poke out over the edge of the roof. Rune closed their journal and set it on their lap.

“Up here.”

“I knew you’d be roosting somewhere,” Astarion said, as he leapt onto the shingles with grace Rune rather envied. “Tavern too noisy for your scheming?”

Astarion knew Rune could plan just fine surrounded by outside noise; he’d seen them plan in their camp, after all. They wouldn’t be surprised if he’d learned about their swift exit from the main floor himself. He sat down next to them and looked at their lap where the journal was seated.

“Are you ever going to let me take a look inside that thing?”

Astarion absolutely had looked inside Rune’s journal before, this they both knew. They’d caught him at it early on in their journey a few times, though he’d quit early on. At the time, Rune thought it might be due to the Alfria incident making him more cautious, but in retrospect, he’d likely stopped peeking when he realized Rune wrote down notes to self and supply lists, not secrets to stealing their heart.

Rune was curious to why he’d want to look at it now. Astarion had already stolen their heart quite thoroughly. He had to know that surely.

“It’s just lists and reminders. You know that. I don’t think you’d find it all that interesting.”

Astarion moved closer to Rune, so their thighs were touching. He leaned over their shoulder. “Still no drawings in the margins?”

Rune looked down at the journal and flipped it open to a section where the corner had a red stain. They held it up, showing Astarion the selected page which was covered in blood. There were a dozen of smeared illegible drawings made by shaking fingers on the parchment, like a disturbing finger painting. When Rune looked over the top of the journal to view Astarion, he looked flummoxed.

“Is that supposed to be a small intestine?”

Rune peered over the top of the journal and took in the spot Astarion was looking at. They supposed it looked a little like intestines, though it could also be just a shaky line or a blood trail. It was hard to tell.

“I don’t know if it’s supposed to be anything at all.”

Rune would have torn out the page entirely, but at the time it’d been a clue of whatever might be wrong with them. When they’d woken up with stinging fingertips covered with their own blood, they’d scribbled the date at the top of the page like it was a regular entry. It was a bit comical, how different their neat handwriting was to the gore on the page.

“I suppose we can cross off artist as a potential future career path,” Astarion said, leaning his forearms back against the roof so he could lean back a little. His body was too tense for the position to look relaxing, but he wasn’t trying to fake ease, which Rune took as a promising sign. “Planning out our marching orders for tomorrow?”

“A little. Depends on what you’re up for.”

“You know I’m up for everything darling.”

“Astarion,” Rune said, voice firm. They knew that voice for what it was: an act. If Astarion wanted to brush off everything in front of the others, Rune wouldn’t stop him. But they wouldn’t allow him to do the same when they were alone.

Rune had their own performances memorized: the devoted Absolute cultist, the brave hero, the playful clueless sorcerer. Astarion knew them all, he’d seen Rune throw on each persona when the moment required it, then drop it as soon as they were back in camp. If Rune put down their mask, they expected Astarion to do the same.

Astarion’s shoulders slumped. He leaned back, looking up at the setting sun and held out his hand, like he was trying to cup the horizon in his grasp.

“That first day, after the crash,” Astarion said, keeping his hand where it was. “I thought the sun would be the death of me. 200 years of shit and the moment I was free of Cazador, I was going to meet my end by a sunbeam.” He let out a dark chuckle and lowered his hand, having it lay back by his side. “Seemed like Gods’ usual cruel brand of humor.”

Rune kept quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“Imagine my surprise when everything played out otherwise. Here I was, free of Cazador, able to walk in the sun, two things I thought I’d never have again.” He held out his hands wide, then gestured to Rune. “It seemed too good to be true. And of course, it was, once you came along and told me that the very thing that gave me what I wanted was also going to cause me to sprout tentacles in a handful of days. So when I heard about the Rite, it seemed like the perfect solution. Sure, I could have taken over the Cult myself, but that seemed like a lot of responsibility and frankly, more work than it was cut out for. I mean, did you see all the paperwork on Thorm’s desk? I’d never see the sunlight again if I had to read through all that.”

Rune felt a flash of rage pulse through them at the mention of Throm but ignored it. Now was not the time. They instead directed their entire focus on Astarion.

“It was my chance to have it all. The sun, my freedom, and Cazador dead at my hands.” Astarion waved a hand, gesturing like he was throwing something aside. “Sure, it would come at the cost of my so-called siblings, but they would have done the same thing to me. Might as well put them out of their misery. I’d be doing them a favor.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his legs, placing his chin on his knees. The setting sun cast light onto the bottom of his face, just under his eyes. “And yet-”

Rune could guess what stayed Astarion’s hand in the end. They’d watched as Astarion stared at cages of spawn in horror, noticed how he’d wanted to look away from all that pain and suffering. Rune was the one who’d forced him to meet it head on, to look them in the eyes and admit the truth of the matter; that Astarion could very well do this, but he’d have to do so knowing he was throwing away people, not the already dead and buried. People who could have been Rune, if things were different.

(He wouldn't have been able to kill you. He could have tried, but you would have killed him first before you stepped a foot in that manor. Maybe even tore out his fangs as a prize.)

“I couldn’t do it. I had everything in front of me, and I couldn’t do it.”

“You wouldn’t still be yourself if you did,” Rune said. They remembered listening to the skull tell the story of Cazador before he was a Vampire Lord, how much his story as spawn echoed Astarion’s. Rune doubted the man was ever truly soft of heart, but he at least had some capacity for feeling other than his own ego. For Cazador to have changed so much turning into a true vampire spoke volumes; hells only knew how much Astarion might change were he to become something even more than that.

“Probably,” Astarion admitted. He scowled, kicking one of the shingles under his foot. “But I wouldn’t be like this either. Afraid he’s going to pop out of the shadows and drag me back there at any moment.”He sat up straight all of the sudden, irritation leaking into his tone. “He’s dead. I killed him myself. So why do I still feel like this?”

“Because it all still happened, maybe? Like my headaches-“ Rune ran their fingers through their hair. They could feel the scar that stretched from behind their ear to the center of their forehead. Back when they crashed it was visible given their buzz of hair. Now it wasn’t too noticeable now that Rune’s hair had grown out from patchwork to a pixie, but Rune could never forget it was there.

Astarion had Cazador to thank for his own back. Rune noticed the vampire took care to not wear items that gave anyone a glimpse of the scarring there. Cazador’s death would not erase that contract nor the memory of it being carved there. Even if Astarion both wished otherwise.

“Even though the wound might physically have healed, that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt,” Rune said, finishing their thought.

Astarion turned away, snarling. “So what, I’m stuck with him forever, even while he rots?”

Sometimes Astarion could be purposefully obtuse. “That wasn’t my point.”

“And what was it then?”

Rune was good with words when it came to strangers. Strangers they never had to see again, strangers never got to realize that Rune had spotted what they wanted to hear or inferred the role they wanted Rune to play. Rune didn’t have to think much about the interaction other than how to get what they wanted.

With friends, with people Rune cared for, words were harder. Because with them, words could do far more damage if thrown around loosely. The wrong thing to say, the wrong tone and one could cause damage as deep as a knife wound.

Rune was so tired of hurting people they didn’t want to.

“That you shouldn’t tear yourself apart because you haven’t healed from 200 years of shit overnight,” they settled on. Astarion was looking at them again, red eyes trained on Rune’s face. “You’re so hard on yourself, sometimes,”Astarion began to open his mouth but Rune pressed on, determined to finish the thought. “And I know I’m one to talk, but Astarion, you managed to kill a vampire lord today. You gave thousands the chance to make a new life. You gave the gur their children back.”

“That I helped take in the first place-“

“Okay, well if that’s true-“ Frustration burned through Rune and they pointed their finger in Astarion’s chest. Astarion almost fell back in surprise, Rune rarely got visibly angry. Rune would have tried to reign in the emotion but they needed Astarion to understand this, they needed him to believe them. They reached into their bag for the dagger everyone insisted they keep on them, and pushed it sheathed into Astarion’s hands. Astarion looked at them like they’d lost their mind.

“You should rightfully take your revenge given my father tried to have me tear you limb from limb.” Rune sat back on the roof, and held their arms out wide. Astarion was still staring at them, the dagger held limply in his hands like he’d never wielded one before. “Well?”

“You weren’t yourself.” His voice was a whisper.

“And you were?”

“That’s not fair-“

“Isn't it?" Rune reached forward and plucked the dagger out of Astarion’s grasp. "Astarion, you cannot entirely hold yourself to what you did under Cazador’s control! You did a lot of good today. And yes, I know, how dare I accuse you of goodness, but this day could have ended very differently and it didn’t.” They placed the dagger back into their bag. “Give yourself some credit for that.”

“Are you sure you don’t deserve that credit instead?”

“No.” Rune was resolute. “I told you what I thought but I was willing to follow your lead. And you led us here,” They shrugged.

“To an inn where we’re crammed into one suite and must scramble onto the roof for some privacy.”

Rune shrugged. The sun was almost gone now and with it the horizon turned a beautiful violet. The night wasn’t so bad, when it arrived with such a sight. “Who cares? You’re here. That’s all I need.”

Astarion looked at them for a long moment, eyes wide before he reached forward, grabbed the front of their tunic, and pulled them in for a kiss. It was sweet but not soft and Rune smiled into it, feeling some of the fear from earlier in the day finally slip from their mind.

They knew Astarion had worried when he’d confessed he’d like to stop having sex and slow things down, but frankly, Rune hadn’t minded. They didn’t remember much of their own history, but they doubted the former leader of the Cultist of Bhaal was one for kissing on rooftops with zero intention of losing clothing in the endeavor. At best, Rune’s previous life had consisted of getting off and offing people, no feeling required. While they would have agreed to Astarion’s request regardless, it didn’t hurt that Rune felt like something like this was something new to them too. Something nice.

Rune broke the kiss for air, then dove back in for another. This one was more brief, just a quick press of lips, but Gods it was lovely. When they broke apart, they were almost giddy with affection. They placed their head on his shoulder and chuckled into Astarion’s collar bone, feeling him let out of a puff of air that ruffled their hair. He wrapped his arms around their back, pulling them in closer.

“How in the Gods’ name can you be so casually charming?”

“You know which God, we had a talk about it and everything.”

“You are an absurd human being.”

Rune pulled back to look him in the face. Astarion was smiling now, properly smiling and they felt so very warm despite the cool night air. With a teasing smile, they leaned in, just out of reach for another kiss. “But you like me though.”

“A terrible lapse in judgment on my part,” Astarion got up, and held out his hand towards Rune. “Come’on love, let’s get to bed.”

Rune looked up at him. They were rather tired. However, as nice sharing a bed was, Rune wasn’t sure it was a good idea after today given Rune’s nightmares. Their fits had gotten worse as they got closer to the city, and now that they were inside the walls properly, they woke up multiple times a night in a cold sweat. It wasn’t exactly the best atmosphere for an elf to trance.

“If you want to be alone I can go bunk with Gale?” When it came to shared sleeping arrangements, Gale tended to be the best choice simply because he was rather used to sharing space with insomniacs after years of studying at Blackstaff. Rune could toss and turn on their bedroll all they wanted, and Gale would sleep it off just fine.

(There would be a fight over who “got” the bed, this Rune knew. Gale would insist Rune take it for having the basic human decency of not asking him to blow himself up, and Rune would insist Gale take it because Gale complained about his knees already, and Rune had slept in far worse places. Rune expected fully to win, but not without a debate).

“Tell Gale to get his own sorcerer. It can be part of your wingman proposal,” Astarion wiggled his fingers. “I know you don’t sleep well, love. I am aware of what I’m signing up for.”

Rune took his hand and let Astarion help him to their feet. When they were standing, Astarion lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of Rune’s palm. Rune could feel the flush that appeared on their cheeks.

“Thank you,” he said. Rune wasn’t sure if it was for helping him kill Cazador, the bath, the talk on the roof or all three. Rune shook their head.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I don’t have to do anything. And I want to thank you anyway.” Astarion tightened his grip on their hands and looked Rune right in the eye. “And I meant what I said yesterday; We will see you free of Bhaal. Freedom won’t be truly sweet until you’re no longer under his thumb.”

Rune’s stomach twisted, their throat tightening. He meant it, Rune could tell. This wasn’t intended as an empty promise or sweet words to assure Rune’s nerves. If it was possible to unshackle Rune from their father’s influence, Astarion would see it done.

For both their sakes, Rune desperately hoped it was possible at all. They had their doubts but maybe Astarion’s hope would be enough for the both of them.

Astarion lowered their joined hands and tugged Rune towards the edge of the roof where the windowsill was. “Now come on, sorcerers need their beauty sleep.”

Rune followed him. As they climbed into bed later, Rune curling around the trancing vampire, they closed their eyes and hoped that they could find a way to keep this, the Gods be dammned.

#iz writes #bg3 durge #durge #astarion x durge #durgestarion #bg3 fic #bg3 #dark urge

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fallingskiesandrisingseas · 1 year

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More "humans are space orks" posts.

Humans have the widest range of emotion from anyone in the solar system, and are considered insanely volatile.

When aliens study Humans™ , they are bewildered by the range of emotions humans can go through in hours or even minutes. They study both our warrior culture and our musea, incapable of understanding how a species could wage war against each other so often also sent money to foreign lands to help those who were suffering, even though they were not kin.

But mostly the mundane reactions of family, friends and strangers.

"John, we thought you liked this blood-related person. Yet you appear to be very angry. "

"Listen, Xax, Peter is my brother and I would die before letting anyone hurt him, but this is the SECOND TIME THIS WEEK HE'S USED AND LOST MY FAVORITE PAIR OF SHOES, so he needs to FIND THEM before I SEND HIM TO HEAVEN MYSELF."

"....Interesting...."

Aliens also completely misunderstand sarcasm. The fact Humans are such a verbal species already makes them anxious, and they don't understand why they would use the wealth of theie various tongues and dialects to convey anything but the truth. Especially species that communicate by scent or sight, or have other forms of communication, are baffled. And even in the species with spoken words, those most proficient in Human Languages have a hard time understanding Sarcasm.

"You appear to be angry, John. "

"NOT at ALL, Xax. "

"But you exhibit all signs of anger. Flared nostrils, raised heartbeat, sweating, tensed muscle. Might it have anything to do with Peter... " -the alien looked down into his book, the concept of private propert foreign to his people- "stealing your shoes?"

"I totally don't mind him borrowing my shoes for the THIRD TIME, without asking"

"Strange..."

They do not understand irritation well, the large impact others have on the mood of Humans, or how they are able to form strong communities with those once considered enemies, how Humans™ can lose friends just as easily as making them.

But what most amazes them is the absolute insane strenght these beings possesed when threatened, no matter how soft they look.

Once, deep in a foreign solar system, the ship was hijacked. Xax, the captain, the first officer and the rest of had been detained by Kroxons, beings of over 9 foot with the durability of a tank.

Xax was already preparing himself mentally to be sold off into slavery, working his life away on a space plantation millions of light years from home, when he noticed John was missing.

Peter was standing right next to him, his arm shattered when he was grabbed by a Kroxon. They were laughing at him, not even bothering to chain him. These soft humans, small and weak, were no threat to them. Look at that, the break was already killing him due to sepsis

Until John showed up and started slaughtering them. John, who was considered the best baby nurse on board. John, with his sweet singing voice. John, who had just recently spilled moisture over a moving picture, something Xax was unable to understand. John, who required food and drink every few hours, thirst just as easily killing him as a bullet.

John, who fought like something out of a nightmare now, paint under his eyes, carrying a laser that should be too heavy for him.

After the third Kroxon fell down, felled by a beam through the eye, the remaining pirates fled. John, covered in blood and exhausted, came out of the shadows and hugged his brother long and hard before freeing Xax.

"Many thanks, human. We owe you a life long debt. "

John waved, already indifferent, already elsewhere.

"Whatever, man. You would've done the same for me.

From that day forward, Xax's people revered humans. And they treated them with the upmost respect, for warriors capable of holding the sword and the sceptre in equal regard deserved nothing but that.

Besides, you didn't want to piss of a species that can go from peace to war in a week flat. Not with the way they fight.

#humans are space orks #fic potential #space story #sci-fi

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mppmaraudergirl · 2 years

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you absolutely killed us with chapter 6! so so much angst! so good! i know before you said that we could request lily's POV. can we see her reaction to the almost kiss? the next time she meets doc? the sleekezy party? when she receives the painting? so many scenes i am dying to know what she was thinking!

❤

She has always been a crier. For as long as she can remember, tears have always come easily, whether called upon or not. When she was six and wailed such a thing to her mother, her mother sagely replied, "Some people have large hearts, my darling, and that means they can hold more tears."

This only made Lily wail even more, the anguish now reignited by worries from having an abnormally large heart.

She has been battling, and losing, against her tears ever since. The battleground itself has never been more favorable to the tears than it is now: the stress of running the research department at Sleekeazy has far exceeded even her worst estimation. Belby's a nightmare, ingredient shortages are rampant, the company is bleeding money, and every mistep regardless of the foot doing so feels like her mistake.

It all comes to head one night as she reenters the lab, keen on putting in at least another hour. She has no plans for the evening, with Doc playing in a match and her general social exhaustion deterring her from calling up any other friends.

For the first time in ages, she allows herself to cry without self-judgment or disparaging. But like all of the recent times before now, she feels no better after the water paints her cheeks.

Before she can think through her next move, she hears her name and her heart stammers in her chest.

Turning around to confirm it's him is a worthless endeavor. She's come to learn the sound of his voice and part of her—a very sad, pathetic part of her—feels as though she should've sensed him coming closer.

There is no escaping this time. Knowing James as she does, she's not surprised when he approaches her, when he offers to listen to her problems (and undoubtedly offer solutions).

It isn't easy opening up to him and that's not because he isn't empathetic or thoughtful. It's nothing to do with him, personally, minus the minor complication that she is in love with him. Has been, really, but she doesn't understand the when. As hard as it is, as much as she fights it, a little coaxing from him gets her pathetically vocalizing everything she's been keeping inside lately.

The world stops a second time when he wraps his arms around her. She knows she shouldn't feel this way. She should pull back from his touch, not revel in closeness with another woman's boyfriend. Surely he can hear the rapid beats of her betraying heart?

He soothes her, in words and in the way he holds her to his chest—her only means of survival is to deflect to humor until she is strong enough to pull away from something, someone she has wanted for so long.

It's somehow worse than she imagines when she finally does. Not only has she lost his warmth, his embrace, but she has to stand there looking a mess with tangled hair and running make-up.

"You always look beautiful."

She doesn't. They both know it, surely. But she knows he would never say that to her now. Not when she looks and feels like a fragile, porcelain doll. (He doesn't understand how much more breakable she feels under his gaze; it's a wonder she hasn't been stupid enough to let him shatter her already.)

He keeps her gaze, mouth parting in a soft inhale, and his fingers slide over her jaw—she's a raw nerve, exposed under his touch, aching, aching for this closeness, a closeness he doesn't want, has never wanted in the same way.

His lips are a breath away, and she readies herself for impact, wondering how thoroughly she might crumble by such an earth-shatteringly simple act. She can't even drudge up an ounce of guilt about Doc because she's so close, so close, so close to finally being the one James Potter chooses.

"Oh! Sorry—"

She pulls away, slamming her eyes closed as they fill with tears—not more, oh gods—and she is fortunate enough to make it three corridors before they start falling again.

#chasing life spoilers #chasing life #chasing life missing scene!!#cl lily pov

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lowel1 · 2 years

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You promised Alina, give us Alina

Calm your tits 🥱 okay Alina in my rewrite, I’ll discuss all the happy(ish) things rn. My Alina is surrounded by an unreasonable amount of angst.

Aphmau disappeared when Alina turned 4, after this happened Garroth became her primary care giver. Garroth and Alina grew closer as she aged, she even called him dad. While Alina knew Garroth wasn’t her biological father she still introduced him proudly as her dad whenever they met new people. (They got some odd looks due to their physical differences).

Alina used to be scared of Laurance (probably because he tried to kill her when they first met 🤔). It took quite a while for him to gain her trust, after they did make amends they found out they have a lot in common. Both have anger issues, both are impulsive, both are very playful and they both love to annoy the hell out of Garroth. Pranking Garroth is the one they love to do together.

Just like Aphmau, Alina feels most at peace surrounded by nature. She often ventures into the forests where she’s normally found by Vylad or Travis and chats their heads off. (She’s very easily excited)

Travis is her partner in crime, ever since she was little they’ve been causing chaos together. They drive Katelyn and Garroth absolutely insane! Everyone says Travis is a bad influence but Alina thinks he’s great so never really listens.

Alina has had regular nightmares since childhood, Garroth tucks her in every night and strokes her head till they pass. This makes Garroth exhausted, passed out at his desk regularly, Alina will put a blanket over him and kiss his head unaware that she’s responsible for his tiredness.

Alina is a biter, first thing she did when she was born was gum Zoey’s finger. She was a nightmare- biting Aphmau whenever it was feeding time, baby bottles weren’t an option either cause she’d just bite all the teats. She didn’t stop her biting phase till she was 10, well she stopped biting people at 10 not objects.

She talks to herself A LOT, she’s like Aphmau in that regard. She often has conversations under her breath which freaks people out a lot. She gets very embarrassed when people call her out, often trying to gaslight them into believing they were hearing things “Say what? I didn’t say anything, I’ve been silent the whole time. What are you on about, are you hearing things?

She got Aaron’s height genes standing at 5’6 by the time she was 14, she also inherited his fangs (imagine how much more painful that made her biting era). She’s not a werewolf like Aaron but has excessive body hair and a really good sense of smell/hearing, she didn’t get his metal immunity sadly so has to walk around in cranky armour all the time (Garroth insists on it, no matter how much she complains).

Her weapon of choice is a spear, she also carries around a quarterstaff. A spear is a lot easier to use with one hand compared to the standard sword so it gives her a free hand to use her magiks or carry a shield. Quarterstaffs don’t do much damage and are quite easy to carry on her back so she uses them in self defence situations.

Alina loves animals, especially dogs. If someone has a dog she’ll say hello to the dog before the owner. She also likes horses and have been riding them since very young. Alina is the type who would sit in a field all day and watch the animals go by. She would always help out on the farm so she can speak to all the animals. She ends up smelling really bad after but doesn’t notice so walks around smelling like animal shit till Garroth forces her into the tub.

Her signature colour is purple, her purple is a bit more on the pinky side compared to Aphmau’s darker purple.

#aphmau #aphblr #aphverse #aphmau minecraft diaries #minecraft diaries #aphmau mcd #aphmau headcanons

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heterochromicnachos · 1 year

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Have my personal headcanons for a not romantic bad sanses interaction. Romantic stuff can still be there, but this is what I see as a daily basis/before the romantic interaction begins.

Horror: he’s the mom friend. Eat your greens, killer, or I will shove them down your throat.

Cross: basically the same, but he’s a bit of a little shit and likes to annoy people by doing things they don’t like when he’s angry. Example, pouring the milk first.

Killer: basically the same. Definitely a flirty fuck, and should not be allowed near anything that could be used for pranks. Aka everything. Don’t let him near anything. Keep him on constant video surveillance.

Dust: just tired. Very tired. And a bit grumpy. Half the time he’s running on LV induced adrenaline and the other half of the time he needs to be taking a nap or laying down because he is EXHAUSTED.

Nightmare: grumpy. Tired of having to keep his idiots from killing eachother, because god knows killer doesn’t know when to stop nagging people with dangerous weapons and magic. Would like it if cross wasn’t a super tense fuck when he was in the room, wants killer to be a little more tense. He is a damn god and deserves respect. >:[

Interaction dynamics.

Horror and cross: pie buddies. Cross is not allowed to bring his weapons into the kitchen. Not because of the danger, but because horror doesn’t want him to damage them cutting carrots and such.

Horror and killer: STAY OUT OF MY FUCKING KITCHEN, LAST TIME YOU ALMOST COOKED ALIVE IN THE OVEN YOU DUMB FUCK!

Horror and Dust: tea. Lots of tea. Usually to calm him down or wake him up because dust is either bouncing off the walls with adrenaline or too tired to do anything.

Horror and nightmare: nightmare is glad he doesn’t have to deal with all of the other boy’s shenanigans.

Cross and killer: they’re either at eachother’s throats, or they’re going to terrorize the whole castle, there is no in-between. The two are currently in a battle to see who can make the other angrier. Both of them have been put in time out by horror and nightmare alike for almost killing eachother.

Cross and dust: chess buddies. Cross sometimes crashes next to wherever dust has conked out and they end up taking a good ol nap together.

Cross and nightmare: cross does not like being in noot’s presence, very spooky goop man could kill him easily and he knows it. Noot is just happy to have someone who listens to him.

Killer and dust: consists of killer poking dust and annoying him. He either gets a lazy slap to the face or blasted into the wall depending on the day.

Killer and nightmare: noot does not enjoy the little shit. Killer enjoys bugging night. Killer is probably a masochist.

Dust and nightmare: nightmare either has to deal with a murder hobo or someone so tired they don’t move at all. He’s used to it and just deals with it. Dust is very cool with noot being used to it.

#sans au #cross sans #killer sans #horror sans #dust sans #nightmare sans #interactions #infodump

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crimsonlyinglilly · 7 months

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No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

Strong body horror here, and some non-con adjacent stuff.

here for something a little different .

Set night four of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria Simulator.

Mike won’t die.

—--

Michael was tired even before he started his shift, he’s still not sure why he can get exhausted or need sleep when his body is mostly dead but he was dealing with it for the most part, living out his nightmares every night certainly wasn’t helping.

Tonight was just a collection of his worst ones all at once. He was blaming the exhaustion for failing to spot and distract them. The first half of the night had gone well until Liz- Scrapbaby had appeared from the vent before he could distract her away.

The hand shoved though his chest was unneeded since the sight of her tended to give him a similar feeling, at least when he came back to himself she was gone and the new hole wasn’t as bad as he had worried.

Still he had been a little too concerned checking it and relieving the guilt of failing her, that he had missed the warning for his other family member.

At least the sight of springtrap at least washed the guilt away in favour of anger but the emotion didn’t give him any more of a chance to fight back.

And coming back again so soon left him unbalanced and cold. The sensation of being wrong within his own body was something he had gotten familiar with since he first woke up stiff and purple, but it got worse when he was repeatedly reminded how wrong life was for him now.

Still he was gone by the time Mike was able to snap his neck into place and pull himself back upright using the chair, placing his white bear mask on the table he was just about to tell himself that it couldn’t get worse with only 10 minutes left to go when he heard the vent to his right creek.

The made to scrabbled to the computer but a voice stopped him.

“TOO La-a-ate” a voice called from the vent, the large once bear crawled from the vent and greeted him “OH! Eg-eggs.”

Not them. He almost begged to a god that clearly didn't like him, just when he thought his night couldn’t get worse.

“Not so happy familyyyy,” The one they had labelled Moten Freddy chuckled, far too many eyes locked onto him. “Does it h-h-hurt that they d-d-don’t recog-nise you?“

How long had it been waiting-watching? Mike swallowed at the thought of this thing waiting just out of his sight during the night.

Mike’s body took a step back without him thinking as the thing that had once worn his skin, that had stretched out bones and broken flesh, destroyed his eyes and tore his muscles, that had dragged his body around as he rotted,stood before him.

“You l–l-look aw-w-wful.” the bear almost sounded pitying, as it stared at him. For a moment they both stood still watching each other. “Working h-h-hard?”

Then the bear lunged and Mike found himself pinned to a wall, the anitronic’s weight crushing him easily.

‘Please don’t do too much damage’ he thought, the snapped neck was dealt with but he already had to find a clean shirt and stitch up the new hole scrap baby had left in his chest.

“We- mis-ssed you.” it told him, jaws snapping shut very close to his face.

Don’t think about Evan, Don’t think about Evan.

“Don’t you m-m-miss us?”

At first he doesn’t understand when he feels his shirt shift before hearing the buttons pop off, then pure panic overwhelms as he feels wires explore the skin under it, toying with the stitches it finds holding the wound that killed him together.

He can’t stop the whimpers that escape him and he tries to force exhausted body to fight as he feels something push though his stitches, and feels them snap and tear.

Feels something crawl inside him.

Not again, not again, not again.

His shriek turned into a sob as he found himself helpless to stop it.

Wires twisting around his ribs from inside finding the pieces of metal they had left behind last time, crawling up his spine, pushing through the remains of the lung he had left. His world narrowed down to the feeling inside as the world fell away.

“More fu-full than when we l-l-left you. No mat-ter, we’ll hollow you out a-a-gain-n.”

No, no, please no, no, no.

He couldn’t see anything but the form towering over him, a smaller pale blur starring from the desk and the sound of an ad loudly filling the room were lost to him all he felt was terror as more started to slip through the torn stitches filling the hollow within him as the wires started crawling up his throat.

He barely notices the hot feeling trailing down his cheeks as his eyes leaked, his mouth open choking on a silent scream.

Then they were gone, the wires and more pulled back quickly, causing more stitches to break and making his grasp at the sudden absence. He went limp in the bear’s grip suddenly aware it was the only thing keeping him up.

“Welp, mornings near-ly h-h-here, see you to-night b-b-birthday boy.”

He slid down the wall when the animatronic released him. He doesn’t watch it crawl back into the vent, it’s too much effort to move even his head.

After a time he makes no attempt to stand instead he drags his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around them, ignoring the wet he can feel spreading from the torn open wound in his torso, not knowing if it was from him or something the bear left, not wanting to think about it.

“Boss?” Helpy called.

“In a minute.” he croaked, he had to get up, prepare for the day, needed to change his clothes, clean himself, restitch himself.

He just needed a little time.

Mike took a breath he didn’t need, both him and the small bear ignored the way it hitched.

He wanted to rest.

#whumptober2023 #no.26 #Working To Exhaustion #“You look awful.”#fic #fnaf 6 pizza simulator #micheal afton #mike schmidt #fnaf eggs benedict #molten freddy #fnaf helpy #body horror tw #fanfiction

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wincestisasincest · 2 years

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What if dolphins had legs?

*cracks knuckles*

okay so there are two possible ways to interpret this question, and i will answer both, but really, it comes down whether or not the dolphins always had legs (as in, evolved with them and have had them since the beginning of humanity) or whether or not dolphins suddenly gained legs.

so, for the first one:

dolphins actually did have legs at one point. most evidence points to them evolving from a 4 legged land mammal into the dolphin that we know today.

now, you may be wondering why they did this. we don't know for sure, but it's believed that their food source transitioned from land to water. and the dolphins stayed in the water - the only ones that survived were ones that were better equipped to swim than to walk on land.

basically, they used to have legs, and they evolved not to have them for a reason. the ones that did have legs kept dying.

so, if the dolphin had insisted on keeping its legs, their species would've probably died out a long time ago.

okay, now the second one:

let's assume that a dolphin would get four legs, just like most mammals. important to remember here that they are mammals, meaning that they have to breathe or die.

they would probably swim a lot slower. alligators, another four legged marine creature that has to breathe air, can swim up at a speed of up to 20 mph, but alligators can also hold their breath for a time that's long as fuck.

a four legged dolphin (which i will henceforth be referring to as a nightmare dolphin) does, like other dolphins, need to breathe by breaking the surface of the water. the average dolphin does this every 2-3 minutes.

even IF their swimming speed isn't that slower, they are definitely less aerodynamic with those new legs, so they can't jump out of the surface and keep their speed either. it would be a very slow, draining process just to stay alive.

this maps the range of bottlenose dolphins, so i'll also use it for nightmare dolphins. please note that a lot of these are in the middle of the fucking ocean.

so, with our newly slow-moving dolphins, they'd be more likely to:

die from exhaustion

die as a baby

be hunted by other predators (that will now have a way easier time because they are slower)

die from starvation (they are too slow for their food source)

BUT lets say that somehow, some dolphins still make it to shore. and decided, against their better judgement, to come on land.

they'd move a lot like alligators on land as well, i think, since they are still mostly adapted to water. this means that they can move fast, but tire easily. and since human society has adapted to deal with alligators and crocodiles fine, i don't think dolphins would be a threat.

they'd probably just screw around like slightly more aggressive deer.

also, i don't think they'd really enjoy being on land either. not only is there no food for them here, but they can't communicate with each other, since most of their communication methods rely on water. it would suck :(

BUT lets say that a dolphin somehow got so pissed off that they wanted to kill a human.

dolphins are known to be aggressive towards humans and other marine life in general, and in some cases are just cruel, so this is actually not as strange of a possibility as it sounds. dolphins have injured and killed people before. but that was underwater.

let's look at the stats.

so yeah an unarmed human is fucked.

but unarmed humans are fucked against a lot of wild animals, and we've used our intelligence to find ways around it. thing is, dolphins are smart as fuck too, and are constantly adapting the ways that they kill and eat their prey.

if humans were to go to war with dolphins, it would be difficult. dolphins have actually been trained to use military weaponry in some parts of the world, so they've got that going for them, and are capable of charging and crushing you like a horse.

we'd win, but it would be hard, bloody, and worth it. and then we'd have some holiday to honor everyone that died in the Dolphin War of 2022.

#and scene #this ask healed me #the confessional #wince says a lot of words

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youmaycallmequeen · 4 months

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She is kind and gentle. Bright as the sun and when the light catches her hair you wont believe she's not Aphrodite herself. Beautiful and she knows it, uses it like a weapon to get what she wants. Her laughter is the loveliest sound and her eyes shine like diamonds. She is elegant and moves with her head high like a queen. Because she is a queen.

She is ruthless and angry, so angry. She's impulsive but will take her revenge with unnerving calm and patience. Likes to kill slowly, extending the pain and suffering and taking pleasure in vengeance. Tortures only those who she thinks deserve it, playing God with who gets to live and die. Once crossed she does not forgive and does not forget.

She is the most powerful human in the world. Could bring down mountains and part oceans and tear down the skies. Still exhausts herself when trying big acts of magic because she doesnt know when to stop, doesnt want to stop. The world will feel her wrath and no one will think her weak.

Likes to paint and sing and play instruments. Learned from the best, from the masters in every century. Knows how to weave and weld. Is a blacksmith and a nurse and a dragon rider. Doesnt know how to work a computer very well lol and gets on youtube to watch funny cat videos. Also bad at math

Loves too easily and frequently and so powerfully it hurts . Her love stories feel straight out of a movie. Knows that she will lose them all eventually. It hurts and it hurts and it never hurts any less. Screams and cries and the nightmares come and she wakes up and reaches out to the side of the bed and cries again because they're not there, they've been dead for centuries. Cant stop herself from loving again, knows that its the only thing tying her to sanity. She will love and lose in an endless cycle. So glad to have met the people she loved but it feels like a curse. Like punishment.

Favored by many gods and enjoys boons and gifts and privileges. Hated by others, and knows that she walks a thin line of protection. Knows how fickle her status is, that the deities that claim to care for her could turn at any moment. Because Gods only serve themselves. She can only rely on herself for survival, and has spent her life guaranteeing that she does.

She is greek, ancient greek but still greek. She is greek before she is human, it defines her and it made her and it shaped her. She is mythology itself after all.

Greece no longer feels like home. Everything has changed, the language and customs and her city and her family home is now just another building. Avoids going back to her homeland but knows that it will follow her everywhere. So where is home now? A wanderer has no home, and also infinite homes. She belongs to the stars now, to the earth.

#Sarabi #OC

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rogue--nation · 4 months

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About Ana Reyes.

1. Fear of addictions. Ana despises drug addicts since they participate in drug war by consuming drugs. Demand creates supply. And as long as people snort cocaine and inject heroin, there's no end to drug trafficking. She sincerely hates cartels and narcos, she hates herself for being too young and blind to understand what her family really was. Her father was a brother of Sonora Cartel leader and they were organising the trade and money laundering. Ana never knew. She was kept in the dark. She was always told their family had some business, but Ana didn't know exactly what they did. Her father was very protective, he sent her to private school and cut all her connections to friends. She felt abandoned. And now, after the massacre, her life is miserable. She hunts down narcos, she serves as Matt Graver's lapdog, the Hound. She is already addicted to adrenaline and bloodthirst that comes with it. She never drinks, never smokes, never does drugs, because she will easily develop an addiction. Same goes for connections with people. Once something good comes in her life, she bites into it, never letting go.

2. The cycle and PTSD. She is caught up in revenge cycle ever since she was 16 years old. She has a list of people she promised herself to kill in order to get her redemption. And all the names are crossed out except for one – Carlos Reyes. The mastermind of Sonora Cartel. The man that destroyed her life. The Golden Skull. It was evening of Los Muertos when he and his men in skull masks have entered her home and killed her loved ones. The dead came to their house that night. After being violated and shot in the head, she survived. Ana still has nightmares in which she relives all the horror of that night. She hates the image of skulls, it triggers her and sometimes gives her a panic attack. She has troubles sleeping and has to take tranquilizers and sedatives.

3. People-pleaser and shapeshifter. Her life depended a lot on others around her, especially after she was taken in Witness Defense Program. She was in a foreign country all alone, barely knowing english, her fate was in the hands of strangers that knew exactly who she is and they despised her. She was put in foster family before finally being transferred under Matt Graver's guard. She had to adapt to hostile environments very quickly. After her own family caused the massacre and almost murdered her, she lost all trust for people around. She acts like she's friends with someone, or like she trusts someone, but she is always by herself, always alone. It's exhausting. But this very skill is what makes her undeniably god in covert operations and infiltrations. She is a good actress, she can shift accents and languages and be anything you want her to be. And she knows what you want from her almost beforehand, she reads that well. She switches from role to role so much, she has long forgotten who she really is. That's why she hates shore leave. Because the world around her fall intimidatly silent. And this silence is louder than all the gunshots and explosions she was through. It's deafening, unbearable. It leaves her a lot of time to think, to devour herself with thoughts.

4. Loneliness. She denies it, but she suffers from it. Specifics of her work do not allow her to get close with anyone, add trust issues to that as cherry top and that's what we get. No friends, no long-term relationships with anyone, not platonic, not romantic. She comes and goes, like a wind. She doesn't really know what it is to be loved anymore. Once she was loved. But it feels like a previous life, feels like it was someone else. She doesn't know how to say words of affection, how to be kind and gentle. She has forgotten how to do that. But if she develops strong feelings for someone, she would go to the hell and back for them, if they're ready to do so for her as well. But it's extremely hard for Ana to fall for someone. That person has to do something insane for her to gain her trust. Save her life, not because they need to use her, but just like that, because she is important for them. Unconditional love is what will make her fall for them. Why? Because all her life she wasn't perceived as a person, as an individual, but rather as a tool. She still is a tool, an instrument. A weapon. She is tired.

5. Stray dogs. On shore leave she goes back to her apartment in Bogota. She has this little hobby of feeding stray dogs in her area. Ana can't have a pet, since she's never home. Ana enjoys their company, she says that they're most loyal creatures. She herself is a hound. So, she says that she's like them. Stray.

6. Child. Deep inside she's still that frightened little girl that was wronged by adults around her. She has simply developed the armor to keep herself safe. But ever time she has to face her fears... She's scared to death. She has many fears: being helpless, being weak, being betrayed once she has finally trusted someone. Ana is an adult now and she's taking her revenge not just for herself, but for that little girl she was, and for many other victims of drug wars...

#ana reyes #inspiration

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electricbluebutterflies · 9 months

Note

"standing up for a loved one" for the prompts <3

Jessica/Leto, Choice-era, PG-ish, also on ao3.

Of all the impulsive choices Leto could’ve made, he had to pick that one.

Not truly impulsive, not on his side, the justifications developed before anything even happened, but the daydreams even before them. The uncertainty of affection, the realization that he had gone and fallen in love with a volatile woman and complicated their expected dynamic and-

Asking her to have a child by him was probably not the correct way to escalate that situation, but it had seemed like the most viable solution at the time and… dammit, this is why none of this was ever supposed to happen in the first place. Because as per usual, because skies forbid anyone cosmically important make any of their own decisions, because being the relatively calm scion of an infamously impulsive family didn’t exactly put him in a good place to begin with, things have gotten completely out of hand.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time – never a good phrase, not with the dormant recklessness in his blood, the lifelong knowledge that he could easily be a problem and oh how hard he’d tried to avert that possibility. To become, as very few of his ancestors managed to be, boring. Competent rulers, the lot of them, but that unpredictability and potential danger and-

It had all been going relatively well, and then she happened.

There had almost been a plan, carefully threaded around the understanding that witches do what they want, and… none of it had mattered, because some higher power had decided to change the course of his life by inserting a woman as impulsive as he tries not to be and even more loyal, and-

Even now, even as it has become dramatically apparent how much he misjudged how anyone else would react to the results of a few quiet words spoken after intimacies, he regrets nothing. Even now the desire of it all.

The issue of proximity these past few years has been problematic enough, and to think that it is still relatively controlled. Having an outsider with such access to the compound – having that outsider, subtle in her beauty but quiet and intelligent to compensate – turned into the kind of polite political nightmare he’d meant to avoid, and this is why he will never marry for alliance purposes or likely ever, this is why-

Kill a few birds with the same stone, he’d thought. Continue his bloodline through a woman he trusts even more than he adores her. In the heat of the moment, there was no way that could possibly be a problem.

Skies. And to think he’d hoped for minor scandal, not this absolute…

Disaster, his mind completes. This is an absolute reputational disaster, and he can only imagine how many other members of the interplanetary nobility are already planning how to use it to ruin him. Well. Good luck with that.

Those are future problems, however – nothing on that scale will happen yet, not for at least a few months, not until his partner’s confinement has passed and the world sees that she has given him a completely ordinary son. Assuming that does happen, assuming nothing goes wrong or worse just slightly not according to plan, assuming-

No. He will not think of such things. He trusts his lover above all else, and he trusts his own power and strength of personality just slightly less. This will be fine. Eventually.

In the moment, it is not fine. In the moment, as weeks turn to months after an announcement that had seemed like a good idea until it happened, as the comments multiply, it is exhausting. Everything he’d ever hoped to avoid, everything he’d ever had to say about his personal choices ignored, everything-

In his eyes, there should not be such talk. He is at an age where thoughts of legacy start to occur to a man in his positions, and the viable marriage prospects are frightful, and… why waste such opportunity? Why not accept the defining relationship of his life for what it is and tether himself to that woman in the deepest way they will ever be allowed? Why not-

They damn her so easily, as if they had waited years for such opportunity. That will not do.

Weeks turn to months, and it would perhaps be better to ignore the damage entirely, but he cannot. Not when it weighs so heavily on his partner, her eyes that much more haunted, her movements more ethereal and oh she worries him and-

“What do you need of me?” he asks in the quiet of night. If there is one positive development out of all of this other than the hoped-for end result, it is that his partner has made herself that much more comfortable in his spaces, in turn giving more time to speak openly and-

“What could I ever ask for?” she replies, in that way of hers that confirms some of his fears. She expects nothing, this fierce but vulnerable woman, she is more than capable of defending herself but actual kindness is still-

“You carry the future of this planet I love so much. Do you realize what power that gives you?”

“Not enough. No more than I had before.”

It seems deeply unlike her to underestimate herself so much, and at the same time there are always the unknown questions about her shadow work, and-

“I will defend our family, but it will be more effective if you’re at least…”

She kisses the side of his face, closest she ever gets to a smile on her lips. “I trust you,” she murmurs. “And you are particularly charming when you have external motivation.”

“I still want you to be aware. To approve.”

“You’re worried too,” she interprets. “I can’t say I expected that part.”

Aren’t her kind supposed to be more perceptive, he wants to ask and won’t out of respect. “I had not realized…”

“It was always easier not to tell you. I don’t want to be a burden.”

So, the darker things he suspects she does are alright but discussing petty rumors is not. There is a conversation to be had about her priorities, but not now, not when it might make her everything she tries to be, not-

“I’ll do what I can.”

He does, in his way, in the days that follow. He would like to think he’s never tolerated comments made against his partner, but some were more justifiable in the weeks after her arrival, before any of them knew her, before-

If nothing else this situation makes apparent how many of his advisors – people he otherwise trusts absolutely – still underestimate her. They see modest dress and veil, and hear the rumors of how her powers work, and create something separate to fear and whisper about. Not and never the rare softness, not and never-

A few words will not solve anything. Only time. Years will pass and nothing will visibly go wrong, if there is any luck, years will pass and his partner will remain as she has been, perhaps too close and too quiet but always cautious enough in what she does not speak, years will pass and if their son is normal enough…

Another public statement is unlikely to be enough of a shield, but he creates one anyway. By his own hand, without input or even awareness from his systems, an almost desperate declaration of-

“Will you accept this?” he asks her when it is done, aware that he is asking for public presence as well and aware that she is less comfortable in such situations than she lets on, aware-

“I don’t see much of a choice,” she replies, cold in her way. “But it’s what you want, and I do… appreciate the intent.”

So, not enough but the best he can do, and isn’t that just how all their problems seem to end up, and-

It’ll blow over. Eventually. No other options. Routines will carry on, his determination to not be a particularly interesting branch on the family tree will win out…

Even now, Leto has a suspicion that his intentions are going to be meaningless when the fallout hits. Even now, he ignores it.

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

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