#*hypnotizes you to ignore the ship tags*

[walrus-tusk-615bc]

TOXIC OLD MAN YAOI

Based on this piece, Couple dancing, by Leyendecker:

[drowninginblox]

Ships in the Night

Wolverine and The X-Men is wonderful but also SO 2000's coded wtf- I mean I'm not surprised, it came out in 2008 but mY GOD. Please watch it. If not for Liam O Brian flexing the accent than at least for Logan's riz. BTW, I am on board with Wanda and Kurt as a ship BC of this show. No, I am not going to elaborate... here. Later tho.

Anyway, I am learning that no Kurt is safe from my love but at the same token I am falling for Hank McCoy and I can't slow the acceleration. Someone, please help-

Tags for this little adventure: Panic/Anxiety attack. Very girl talk. So sorry but I am leaning into the 2000's cliches with this interaction of Kurt. Hopefully, this is multiple parts? Not gonna promise but I got Ideas with this bad boy.

"You know you're obvious right?" Pixie mumbles under her breath. It's been three days since the ship was saved from not just the sleazy men who promised to transport you all to Genosha, but also those pirates. Between books, card games, and entertaining Sammy, the only kid on the ship; the voyage has been very dull. By all means that should be a blessing, but there is only so much to do when there are two more days of open ocean to venture. That's probably why people have been looking for something new to talk about.

"Don't play dumb. And don't be surprised. I've seen that look before..." Your new best friend counters while whipping a guardrail. Pixie is unlike any girl you've ever confided in. Although she's a bit shy thanks to the best of homeschooling and the worst of public, she's one hell of a spitfire once you got to know her. Looking back on it, her pink hair was enough of a sign that she was unabashed in who she was- for better and for worse.

You sigh under your breath as you wring out your mop. You and your newest friend volunteered to clean around the ship to fill the time. But now the book you've reread twice is more tempting than ever. "You and your romance novels..." You mumble. "CMon Y/n, it's obvious! You've been avoiding him like the plague!" Her beautiful butterfly wings extend in exasperation. Meanwhile, her hands settle on her hips. You can only groan as any words can and would be used against you to support this baseless claim. "Y/n!" They whine, making you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

Has the X-Man entered and exited your mind in shadowy poofs? No. More like he wanders in, stays a bit... but leaves! Begrudgingly leaves, but leaves all the same! And so what he's charming and kind, and his accent is hypnotic... just like those eyes...

But it doesn't mean anything! It won't mean anything! Because he's a superhero and you were just lucky to be saved by him. Thats it! It doesn't make you special or anything. You're just another passenger on a ship he just so happened to rescue and now escort to its destination. It's no biggie. 'Probably another Tuesday for him if you got the nerve to ask.

"Look, I get you're a fan of The Duke and I but-" She turns back quickly to point her finger in your face "Leave Daphne and Simon out of this! I am talking about you and tall, dark, and-" The door to the room creeks open, making the commotion stop as the subject of conversation pokes his head into the room. "I'm sorry but did I hear The Duke and I?" Nightcrawler questions with the start of a smile. Your skin shifts to a golden shade of yellow from the nerves, making Pixie glance at you with a knowing smirk. To the astute, it would look like your skin matched his eyes.

Nightcrawler looks between the two of you. "Oh ah, I'm sorry, was I interrupting something?" He asked, genuinely curious. Just as you were about to your mouth, Pixie beat you to answering the million-dollar question. "We were talking about The Duke and I!" She said with way too much enthusiasm. You shoot her a pleading look that she promptly ignores. "Ah! I love that book." He marvels. The way his eyes light up forces you to fight another color change. "I must confess, Julia Quinn's repertoire is somewhat of a guilty pleasure of mine." He mutters as his tail curls. Pixie gasps, making you smile a little at how endearing your friend can be. Even when she is being nosy.

"Oh really? What do you think of Simon?" He smiles wide. "He has a special place in my heart! His and Daphne's banter is wonderful! And his motivation- unique and timely!" Pixie smiles wider, if that's even possible, "You know I have been trying to get Y/n into the series, but she's more of a movie lover-" You roll your eyes playfully. "Not true! I enjoyed the Harry Potter books and Twilight!" Pixie groans as you smirk. "Those are so overrated!" You glance to Nightcrawler, who's chuckling at your antics. The feeling of fighting the change makes your fingers tingle with numbness. "You have a very mainstream taste." He notes. You only chuckle while you shrug. "Nothing wrong with that. There's a reason why things are mainstream. If things are good then they're good. Although..." You shiver at the memory. "What happened to Jacob in the Twilight book was not it." Nightcrawler raises a brow "What happened to him? Did he not get with Bella?" Pixie gags before coughing out "Worse."

You smile knowingly. "Trust me when I say, you don't wanna know. If you do, wait for the movies to catch up. Hopefully, they fix what happened to my guy." He gives you a look before shrugging it off. "I'll take your advice then." Pixie jumps up and down "Ooo! Wait! We should see it together!" Nightcrawler gives a surprised look while you raise a brow. "Do you think Genosha has movie theaters?" The smaller girl asks hopefully. "I thought you didn't like Twilight?" she sighs "Well, no... but it's something you like. And you're my friend!"

Something about that hits you somewhere you didn't expect as your shoulders relax. As the declaration sets in, your throat gets tighter. Although you don't know why or how, something about this feels wrong. It shouldn't but it did. Even though you felt lighter and the world brighter, this just felt different. No. No that's not right.

It felt like a long time coming. Something about this.

"Y/n?"

You blink away from wherever you were to see Pixie and Nightcrawler giving you concerned looks. "Are you okay mein freund?" He asks as he sets a gentle hand on your shoulder. The amplified heat coursing through your body seems to rush to your face all at once. "Y/n, you look like a firetruck..." Pixie mumbles as she gets closer to check you out. "Talk to us," she quietly pries as she takes your hand. Your gaze flicks between them and their touches while your throat dries up. All you could do was just look at them with emotion-filled looks as you struggle to communicate. They only look to you expectantly, their concern running deeper with every passing moment.

Shaking your head seems to get the message across as the dryness in your throat moves down your esophagus. Nightcrawler looks between you and Pixie before looking back at you. "Y/n, you can still see and hear us, right? Your vision isn't blurring or anything?" You nod while sending a squeeze Pixie's way. "Kurt, I don't know what's going on..." panic drips into her voice. Kurt keeps his eyes on you. "Y/n, you're not allergic to anything, are you? I just want to make sure of something before we get you some help." You shake your head quickly, making your vision blur even after you stop. "Okay, Pixie, stay here with Y/n. I'll be right back." He mutters before disappearing into the shadows.

With him gone, you let yourself hold onto Pixie tighter as a surge of fear floods you. "Hey, hey- Y/n! What going on?" You force yourself to speak, only for it to come out as a croak. "I don't know," She glances between you and the door only to move you to the wall. "Just sit down okay?" She mumbles nervously. Obliging is the only thing to do as your fingers and feet give way to numbness. "Talk to me." Pixie joins you on the floor shortly afterward. "Try to talk to me okay?" Your voice comes out weakly. "It's getting hard to breathe, my hands and feet are numb, s-same with my face,... Pixie, I don't know what's going on."

Pixie gently nudges you. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay Y/n. I'm not leaving you." She hesitates before touching your arm lightly. "Is this okay?" Your shaking your head makes her immediately retract her hand. "Okay. Is there anything I can do? Maybe distract you until kurt gets back?"

With no other ideas, you only nod. "Okay, um... So, that Kurt guy huh?" You sigh as your skin shifts to a light pink. "We are not talking about that." You groan, making Pixie smile a little. Even though it's at your expense, you manage to smile as well. "Okay, okay, fine... how about... what are we gonna do when we get to Genosha?" You close your eyes and sigh "What do you even think Genosha is like?" You mutter. She sighs along. "Hopefully warm. It's an island, right? So nice beaches are a must." The buzzing sensation in your feet seems to mute the longer you linger on this thought. "Long days in the sun, rainy days indoors..." Pixie nudges you with a soft addition "A spot of tea by the fire." Salty sea air drags into your lungs, reminding you where you are. "No more police sirens." You whisper while your hands intertwine over your chest. "No more fear on the TV." She assures. "No more running."

"No more judgment." Your gaze breaks away from your hands to see Kurt lingering in the doorway with a glass of water and a blanket. "No more running." He chides while taking slow steps toward you. The glass of water is offered to you after he takes a knee. Pixie gently takes the blanket from him to wrap it around you. Meanwhile, you give Kurt an appreciative look while sipping the cold water. "Take it slow, you're okay," Pixie assures. All you can do is close your eyes as you set down your glass. Tears you didn't know you had start to flow from a place you haven't felt in a long time. "This is a safe space," Kurt mutters. A hand sets itself on your shoulder as you curl into yourself. "Oh, Y/n..." You hear from Pixie before an all-encompassing acceptance grounds you.

Hugs never felt this good.

[iateyourfav]

Beastification - Chapter 5

Mr Beasts first mission with the bad batch goes as weirdly as you would expect.

The Bad Batch x Mr Beast

Tags: sfw, Crack fic, slow burn, Mr Beast AU, crack taken seriously

CW: the y/nification of Mr Beast, mentions of child abduction, braindead Mr Beast, Mr Beast talks to an invisible camera, lore breaking content, Eric Cartman, Mr Beast getting punched in the nuts

Words: 2179

Will update on Wednesdays and Sundays

... | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Read on ao3

After a little argument about Echo requesting to leave Mr Beast somewhere on an uninhabited planet and Wrecker, in response, almost knocking his soul out of his body, before being stopped by Hunter stepping between the two of them, the batch plus Mr Beast gathered on the Marauder to leave for their job.

While Echo, Tech and Hunter stayed in the cockpit of the ship, Wrecker, Omega and Mr Beast stayed in the back, talking about how he apparently shot 500,000 credits with multiple tanks, for whatever reason. The fact that Omega and Wrecker actually believed that story drove Echo further into insanity.

They were headed towards Kessel, where Mr Beast had apparently brought the child that they were supposed to rescue. Everyone seemed surprised Mr Beast even remembered the coordinates, considering his constant state of delusion. He explained on their way to the ship that he had left the kid in a cave with enough rations and water to survive a couple of days. He had left it there about two weeks ago.

He told them not to worry about the kid's condition, as he had taught the child how to hunt its own food before he left and challenged it to stay near the cave, promising a ton of money for surviving the challenge. Money he obviously didn’t have. 

„Let’s hope he didn‘t actually leave the kid to die.“ Echo commented. He uttered this same sentiment for about the seventh time now since the start of their journey. „Don���t worry, Echo. If he sabotages the mission even in the slightest, we‘re leaving him on Kessel.“ Hunter tried to calm the former ARC trooper down.

“I don‘t think that would be a wise decision.“ Tech spoke up, while getting the Marauder ready to leave hyperspace. „He may be valuable. I have yet to analyze it in detail, but his altered thought process could proof useful to us, if not only as blackmail material against Cid.“ Hunter let his gaze wander towards the back of the ship, where Mr Beast was, once again, talking to an invisible camera about his affiliate link below, while Wrecker and Omega watched him, almost hypnotized.

“Mr Beast,“ Hunter called out, trying to move Mr‘s focus from his imaginary ad read onto him. „How easy is it to reach the kid.“

“I WOULD have normally hidden him way better, but he said he was SCARED OF THE DARK! So, I left him more towards the entrance of the cave. Additionally, THE CLOSER HE GETS TO BEING KILLED BY WILD ANIMALS, THE MORE MONEY HE GETS!!“

Nobody commented, either from not knowing how to respond, or from hoping that ignoring Mr Beast would shut him up (Echo). And it stayed this quiet, until they reached the surface of the planet. They landed not far away from the cave, which was hidden sufficiently by the trees and bushes growing near it.

They entered the cave, cautious. They didn‘t want to scare the target away, but they, of course, also considered the possibility that someone or something may have gotten to the kid faster than they did. The cave looked empty, but someone definitely had set up camp here, considering the leftover ashes from a campfire at the entrance of the cave. Hunter knelt down to the ashes, grabbing some of them, hoping to get a trace leading to the kid, while the others either looked around the entrance for clues or were on the lookout just outside the cave.

“The kid went further into the cave, probably because of a storm that happened. Wrecker, Omega, Mr Beast, you stay here. Watch out for anyone coming this way. I don‘t think we‘re the only ones looking for this kid, considering how Mr explained his ‚job‘. Tech, Echo, come with me.“ 

Wrecker didn‘t protest against spending more time with Mr Beast, even if they didn‘t really speak to each other, just being in his presence made Wrecker feel at ease.

Mr Beast sat down with Omega at the abandoned campfire while Wrecker stood a little outside the cage, facing the forest, looking for potential intruders.

“And then I LOCKED TWO STRANGERS inside a room for 100 DAYS!!! Of course, I tempted them with different things to LEAVE THE ROOM EARLY, to make them LOSE THEIR MONEY!! But they didn’t, so I had to give the money to them anyways.“ Omega looked up at Mr Beast, with sparkling eyes. „I loved that video. When are you gonna release your next one? Will I be in it?“ „I‘M CONSTANTLY RECORDING! Can‘t you tell? But I can‘t seem to reach my editor.“ His voice was laced with disappointment. Wrecker wanted to comfort him, make him feel less lonely and more accepted in the group. He was part of the squad, too, now.

Then, something ripped Wrecker away from his thoughts. A bush rustled, not too far away from them. Wrecker aimed his gun towards the origin of the noise.  „Who’s there?“ he asked, in a warning tone. Another rustle, from the opposite direction now. Omega stood up, running to Wrecker. „What was that?“ Her voice gave away the fact that she was obviously scared. She hid behind him, her head peeking out just enough to be able to still look into the forest. Another rustle, the source of the noise being the bush closest to them, this time around. With shaky hands, Omega pulled out her bow. She was so focused on Mr Beast's story just a moment ago, that she didn‘t feel ready to fight all of a sudden.

A figure stepped out behind the bush. Fully hidden behind layers of robes and a helmet, with his arms up to not get shot immediately. The robed person walked towards them, confidently, with slow steps „How‘d you get here?“ it asked. The tone of its voice suggesting a male figure beneath the layers of metal and fabric. „Could ask you the same question.“ Wrecker spit back, gun still pointed at the intruder. „What do you want here?“ he questioned. 

„I‘m here for the kid.“ the stranger replied. Wrecker pushed Omega a little more behind himself, shielding her, as if out of instinct.

“Not that kid, idiot. The one in the cave.” The stranger mocked, nodding towards the cave entrance. That’s when his tone in voice changed, from condescending to enraged. “You.”

Omega tried to follow the man’s gaze. It was clear that he was looking at something further behind her. Mr Beast. „What are you doing here.“ the stranger spit towards him.

While Wrecker and Omega looked puzzled, Mr Beast looked like someone just asked him where the milk aisle was, instead of a Bounty Hunter recognizing him in the middle of the woods.

“Are YOU one of my FANS?“ Mr Beast responded, casually. „Have YOU heard of my NEW FLAVORS for my CANDYBARS yet???? NOW FOR SALE!!“ The bounty hunters' stance got more defensive. „I thought I‘d have more time before I‘d have to deal with you.“ 

Wrecker and Omega looked at each other. What was this stranger's business with Mr Beast? „I guess I have to kill you earlier than I planned to.“ With this sentence, he reached for the gun in his holster. This enraged Wrecker. „Don‘t even try it.“ Omega aimed her bow at the stranger as well now, ready to defend Mr Beast at any cost. 

Luckily, at this moment, Hunter, Echo and Tech reappeared beside them, with the kid they were looking for, not far behind them. Now, there were five weapons pointed at the stranger.

“I know when a situation‘s not looking good for me.“ the stranger commented, before slowly stepping back and disappearing back into the woods.

“What happened here? Who was that?“ Hunter asked after lowering his gun, the question mostly directed at Mr Beast. Wrecker replied: „We don‘t know, he just suddenly appeared from the bushes. He said he was looking for the kid, too. Then he got aggressive towards Mr. Seemed to know him.“ 

Hunter turned fully towards Mr Beast now, singling him out with his question. „Who was that?“

Mr Beast stood up with the smoothest of movements, hips swaying in the process. His voice boomed through the cave. „I DON‘T know.“ he said with the brightest smile on his face, his eyes resting on Hunter, who was not sure if Mr Beast was actually looking at him or through him, with his big, empty pupils.

“Let’s just hope he won’t come back.” Omega spoke, ripping Hunter’s attention away from Mr Beast’s big blue eyes. “Right. We should get back to the ship and leave. We got the kid.” Everyone turned around to look at the child they just rescued from somewhere deep in the cave. Omega made her way towards the kid with a friendly gesture, holding out her hand to him. “What’s your name?“

“Eric Cartman.“ The very round kid answered. „He hid in the cage for approximately five days, though he seems far from showing any symptoms of malnutrition.“ Tech   stated. Cartman replied, obviously aggravated: „I‘m not fat, I‘m festively plump.“

 Beast saw an opportunity in this statement. „IF you eat THAT TREE OVER THERE, right now I WILL GIVE YOU 50,000 CREDITS !“ he offered, demanding the attention back to himself. Wrecker looked at him in adoration. He was so motivated and giving. Echo was looking into nothingness, with a thousand yard stare on his face.

Cartman now took a closer look at Mr Beast, stepping towards him. „Hey, I know you! You‘re the fucking idiot that put me in this cage!“ With his eyebrows furrowed, he leaned in closer to him „How dare you even come back here, I ate nothing but dirt for days!“

“I THOUGHT, a more PLANT BASED NUTRITION would be GOOD FOR YOU!“ Mr Beast argued, seemingly not worried about the circular kid before him wanting to hurt  him.

 „Take that back, asshole. I‘ll shove that invisible camera you’re always talking to right up your ass.“ Omega stepped in between them, trying to defuse the impending argument. „Stop it, you guys! No need to fight.“ Cartman stopped himself for a minute, putting a hand on Omega's shoulder. „The only way to fight hate, is with more hate.“ He stated, before swiftly moving Omega to the side and punching Mr Beast where the light doesn‘t reach. „YOU BETTER GET ME THAT FUCKING MONEY YOU PROMISED.“

Mr Beast fell to the floor, cowering into the fetus position. A collective groan could be heard echoing throughout the cave as the batch empathized with Mr Beast's injury.

“I don’t think he‘s gonna be able to get up any time soon.“ Hunter observed, being the first one to regain his composure. „Wrecker, carry him back.“

Wrecker froze for a moment. The thought of throwing Mr Beast over his shoulder and carrying him back all the way to the Marauder made him blush „O-Okay.“ was all he managed to respond. He tried to ban the scenarios of Mr Beast thanking him for carrying him back to ship from his head, failing miserably. He shook his head, trying to gain back a clear mind.

He picked up Mr Beast from the cave ground. He was even lighter than he expected, so frail and fragile. His face looked beautiful, the expression of pain he gained from getting punched in the balls, now exchanged for a neutral, sleeping one. He passed out from the pain, though he looked so at peace. Eyes closed, his long lashes resting on his cheeks, with his eyebrows in a neutral position and his lips slightly agape. It took Wrecker more mental strength, to take his eyes off Mr Beast's face, than he wanted to admit.

With Cartman, who was now handcuffed, to avoid him punching any more testicles, they made their way through the jungle, back to the ship.

Mr Beast was asleep the entire way back to Ord Mantell, meaning the journey back was relatively quiet. He was laying with his head on Wreckers lap, who was sitting on one of the bunks. Cartman sat in the back of the ship, still handcuffed, silent for most of the time, except when he tried to persuade Omega to free him.

Mr woke up with the ship reaching the planet's surface. His eyes fluttered open, Wrecker being the first thing in his field of vision. „What happened?“ he asked, voice much quieter than usual. „Cartman may have castrated you.“ Tech answered, who was on his way to leave the ship, eyes fixed on his datapad.

Mr Beast blushed. He was embarrassed about everyone witnessing him getting punched, so he tried to change the subject. „Did you carry me all the way back? Thank you.“ he gave Wrecker a small smile, melting his heart just a little bit more. „I-It was no problem. It‘s not like you were that heavy or anything.“ Wrecker said, trying to avoid Mr Beast's inviting gaze.

“Unlike this guy.“ Echo complained, desperately trying to shove Cartman out of the ship. „Come on, let‘s get this kid back to Cid.“

[envythemouse]

All-time Will/Hannibal recs (Part 3)

Satyr by sourweather

Summary: Will's anxiety suddenly spikes during sex and Hannibal takes care of him.

Envy’s notes: Another subdrop fic written from Will’s point of view.

Our Place in Time by inameitlater

Envy’s notes: A 217k series with both Will and Hannibal time hopping separately. It’s definitely worth reading at least once.

Atavism by RubyBakeneko

Summary: Will and Hannibal have prolific amounts of sex, but Will refuses to accept tenderness or affection. When Hannibal objects, Will thinks it’s with the aim of controlling him and fostering further dependency. He roleplays as his former self to try and prove his point, steadfastly ignoring his own underlying feelings and motivations. The results are predictably messy.

Envy’s notes: Will doesn’t believe he’s worthy of love after his becoming, Hannibal disagrees.

One Devotes Oneself Wholeheartedly by berlynn_wohl

Summary: “Is this one of those collusions between a corporation and the medical community? Are you being paid by the Sex Council to endorse their product?”

(Hannibal just wants to show Will a good time. Will is a sassy little muffin about it, but ends up crying anyway.)

Envy’s notes: Will prefers toys over sex, Hannibal changes his mind.

Butterfly by multifandom_fanfic_writer

Summary: A butterfly flaps its wings. Will Graham does not survive his stay at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

Hannibal Lecter… does not handle this well.

Envy’s notes: Will kills himself in prison. Hannibal confesses his love too late and then lashes out.

Nothing For It... by Phenobarbital

Summary: ‘I started pretending to dirty talk to you an hour ago and it stopped being pretending 58 minutes ago.’

Envy’s notes: Will wants to piss off some homophobic people by pretending like he’s having sex with Hannibal in their motel room. At some point, it becomes more than just pretending.

On the Lam by Shotgun_sinner

Summary: While on the lam in Cuba, Will reads every article he can find on himself and Hannibal.

After Freddie Lounds writes a puff piece on them, Will starts finding erotic fiction written about he and Hannibal that makes him question everything he's ever known about himself.

Like some of the tags say, he's discovering he might be Hannisexual after all.

Envy’s notes: Will finds out about Hannigram fanfiction and becomes a porn addict. Meanwhile Hannibal thinks Will is cheating, until he uses Will’s computer. Very humorous fic.

An Affair To Remember by chronicopheliac

Summary: Will has been sneaking out at odd hours of the night for some time. Hannibal finally decides to find out why.

Envy’s notes: Very much Dark!Will, you will not believe what he’s done behind Hannibal’s back.

Ready, Set, Action! By IWillBeYourPet

Summary: Hannibal is a well-known and popular porn star, and is instantly smitten with his new scene partner, Will.

Will seems reluctant, clearly pushed into this by his boyfriend Mason, but there are sparks between them instantly. Will is sweet and submissive and desperately in need for someone to save him. And Hannibal is more than game.

Gideon would just like them to make the movie.

Envy’s notes: Porn star!AU but I promise it has plot!

Hypnotized by Rolycraven

Summary: Hannibal wants to help Will destroy the forts in his mind that no longer serve him and build a mind palace of his own. When he hypnotizes Will, rather than revisit the past, Will sees visions of the future which lead to deadly consequences.

Envy’s notes: This is a Hannigram fic where Will has visions of the past and future through hypnosis. I know this is a Will/Hannibal rec list but damn, do I ship Francis and Will in this. The guy worships him.

“And you…” Dolarhyde looked at Hannibal, “You should hear the way he speaks of you. He has chosen you.” Tears stung in Dolarhyde’s eyes. Hatred burned within. “I cannot wait to bite you. Had I met him first, he and I would have been unstoppable. I never would have hurt him the way you have. I would have worshipped him. You will never deserve his love.”

Lastly I want to recommend you guys to read these two reaction fics by the same author, if you haven’t already. They’re pretty popular fics.

When the teacup shatters and Scattering of Memory by SolusMormont

[atmilliways]

Part Four: Shame On Both Of Us

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part five) - complete as of 4/4/23

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2068 Ships: Steddie Major Tags: Jealousy, The Pining Is Mutual Actually, Getting Together Additional Tags: No Smut (Yet), It’s All About the Italicized Oh

Author’s Note: Banner by @xirayn​.

Read it on Ao3

-

When Eddie had first met Steve—really met him, in the boathouse at Reefer Rick’s place—he’d had a beer bottle in hand then, too. He’d mostly been scared shitless, and when he thinks about it he’s pretty sure he’d literally been foaming at the mouth a little bit, but looking back on it there’d also been this charge. It just hadn’t registered then because at that point Eddie was wanted for murder and running on zero sleep. 

He has that same feeling now, staring across at the kitchen table (and some weird interpersonal chasm that he’s realizing he might not know the actual depth of) at Steve while they sip their beers and get globs of peanut butter on their fingers. Not that Eddie notices, or watches the way Steve occasionally licks the mess from his own hand.

(Lie. It’s almost hypnotic, the way Steve’s tongue darts out, surreptitious like he’s really trying not to draw Eddie’s attention to it—but oh, the ship sailed on that a long time ago. Eddie is still kind of mad, but he’s also a weak, weak man.)

“Thanks for the milkshake, by the way,” Eddie says impulsively, since he’s still got the cup filled to the brim with water for later. (He has no intention of getting drunk tonight.) “It was, uh. Good.”

Steve nods, not looking at him and more focused than seems really necessary on spreading peanut butter over a new cracker, neatly to all the edges and corners. “It’s that place that uses real fruit, they make a mean milkshake.”

Which Eddie already knows, because he’d recognized the logo on the cup. He also knows it’s an extra twenty-minute walk from their apartment, compared to the closer 24-hour diner that just uses artificially flavored syrups. And in the opposite direction of the bar. He’d been actively ignoring that part earlier, irritated by the suggestion that Steve could buy his forgiveness so easily. Such a douche move. 

But he thinks about Nancy’s ‘All I can tell you is that Steve wants to fix this’ and Robin’s ‘So why is he sleeping off a mega crisis meltdown in my dorm room, then?’ and Steve calling himself bullshit, and maybe. . . . Maybe it wasn’t like that. 

“Sure do,” Eddie mutters, slapping a lump of peanut butter on a cracker and shoving the whole thing in his mouth, spreading be damned. “So,” he continues with his mouth full, because fuck if he can just say it without some sort of misdirecting distraction involved, “which one of us is gonna put on our big boy pants first and talk about what he was actually mad about?”

Steve snorts, and his eyes actually dart up to look at him for a moment. “Dude, chew with your mouth closed.”

Eddie sticks out his tongue without bothering to swallow first. 

“Gross,” Steve snickers. Then he looks down, serious again and gnawing on his bottom lip. “I. . . . I guess I should go, since I started it.”

Debatable, Eddie can’t help but think. Would he have even hooked up with that guy if he hadn’t been upset about Steve not paying attention to him? There’s no way to know now, really. 

(Lie. He wouldn’t have—not like that. Not while feeling like it was the best he could get. Since the hookup, he’s barely even thought about that guy in any terms outside of being disastrously hung up on Steve. Waste of a decent blowjob, really.)

“It’s just,” Steve says, and Eddie has never felt more nervous to hear the end of a sentence before in his life. (Does Steve think he’s a slut? For one guy? Did Steve want that guy for himself? Are they going to have to divide up cruising territories going forward?) “I guess I, I didn’t think you were a hookup kind of guy, because I haven’t . . . seen you go off with anybody like that before?” The smile Steve gives him is cracked, a little pained, a touch self-deprecating. “So I kind of panicked, because I . . . I really like, um, living with you, man. And what if you started dating somebody and moved out to live with him instead? So, yeah.” He shrugs and reaches for another cracker, dipping his knife into the jar between them. 

“I would never leave you high and dry on rent like that, Steve,” Eddie says, thinking immediately and guiltily of jumping to the conclusion that Steve had done that to him earlier. “You’re a great roommate—” please don’t leave me “—I was just pissed at you because I didn’t know why you were mad at me.”

Steve shrugs awkwardly. “Yeah, well. I was walking back to the bar and started to feel like an ass for overreacting, it was. . . . I was just being stupid, so I got the milkshake as a peace offering. And then I kind of panicked when you didn’t want it, but Robin pointed out that maybe you really just didn’t want to hurl again. Anyway, none of that was your fault, is what I’m saying. It was all just my stupid shit.”

“Okay,” Eddie says slowly, still turning the ‘I didn’t think you were a hookup kind of guy’ thing over in his head while he tugs some of his hair thoughtfully over his mouth. (When had he ever given Steve that impression? How else did Steve imagine he’d gotten any action while living in Hawkins?) “Uh, I appreciate that. And I’m sorry I got so drunk that I basically ordered you to go get my keys for me, that wasn’t cool.”

“It’s fine,” and now Steve is the one talking with his mouth full. “I don’t mind you bossing me around.” 

Then he blinks, and his cheeks start to redden, like he hadn’t meant to say it, and Eddie thinks, That’s . . . interesting.

(Lie, it is everything and he needs his overactive imagination not to latch onto it, but he can already feel it happening. A shiver runs along his spine at all the bossing Steve around he would like to do, if he could, if it was his place or he had any right—Why the fuck did Steve have to phrase it like that?! A few simple words and suddenly it’s like Eddie’s now aware of colors he’s never seen before.)

While Steve attempts to glue his own mouth shut with a frankly insane amount of peanut butter on his next cracker, Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his chair. He wishes he’d changed into something with more give than the jeans he wears to work. He wishes he could turn off his brain. 

And, okay. On one hand, he wants to say something. That’s not (just) his horny brain talking; Steve had just explained that he’d been angry over the possibility of Eddie leaving. Makes since, considering the Harrington’s had always fucked off and left Steve alone in that big, empty house. And Nancy leaving him for Jonathan. And Robin leaving for college, with now only a few more short months before most of the kids follow suit. . . . But the salient point right now is, Steve doesn’t want him to leave that badly. So, what are the chances that Steve would leave over finding out that Eddie would give just about anything to haul him over the table and kiss him stupid, peanut butter and beer breath and all, right the fuck now?

On the other hand, he’s got all these firecracker warnings of fear he can hear calling ‘snap,’ ‘crackle,’ ‘beware’ in the back of his head, and he doesn’t know which impulse to listen to. 

(Lie. He does.)

It all feels like an out-of-body experience without the hassle of having to go anywhere. He’s on a roller coaster, tipping over the final incline into free fall and leaving both gravity and his stomach back at the top. His heart is slamming in his chest like something that wants to get out, like cutting the bedsheet rope and running out beneath a sky of murderous demon bats all over again. 

The worst he can imagine right now (which is still pretty bad) is that Steve won’t even be mean about it. Apologetic, probably, and almost definitely awkward, while explaining that he doesn’t feel that way about Eddie, but that he really wants to continue being friends. Maybe any kind of being wanted by Steve is something, though. Maybe. . . .

“Maybe I wasn’t being . . . totally honest, before,” Eddie says. His voice sounds rough to his own ears, and he takes a fortifying swig of beer before going on. If he were to tip his head forward he could hide behind his hair, but he keeps his chin jutted forward because he is not going to be a coward about this anymore, goddammit. He twists the rings on his hands and looks Steve straight in his wary hazel eyes and admits, “I was kind of mad at you before you got mad at me.”

“Oh,” Steve says. It sounds more like a sound punched out of him than an actual word. “Because . . . of movie night? I should’ve rescheduled instead of just canceling, I’m—”

“It’s all the guys, Steve.”

There. There it is. He’s doing this. 

Oh fuck. 

And Steve just looks utterly confused. 

“It’s the guys,” Eddie repeats, holding his gaze. “Whenever we go to the bar, there are guys all over you. They dance with you, they buy you drinks, they kiss you. . . . I see them grab your ass and I just want to, to—” 

So many possible ends vie to be the end of that sentence, all of them violent, that instead Eddie just growls deep in his chest. At the same time, he slides his socked foot forward under the table to nudge Steve’s, runs it up his ankle a little, and isn’t sure which of the two makes Steve jump.

“You’re always looking at all these beautiful people,” Eddie continues, momentum built, unstoppable now. Wild and aching and leaning halfway across the table to make his point (and, yes, still a little hard in his jeans). “And I see how much you like it when they look at you, because you shine brighter than, fucking, all of them. I mean . . . you look good all the time, but it should be illegal how good you look when we go out, with the eyeliner and tight shirts and tighter pants, dancing with guys like you want them to fuck you right there on the dance floor and it kills me that I’m not the one touching you.” 

He sees Steve’s eyes widen as what he’s saying sets in, mouth drifting open to form another perfect oh. 

“You go home with them instead of me, and it’s awful, Stevie, because even when we go home together it’s to two different beds. It kills me that they get you and I don’t, and I’m just so—” Eddie breaks off, rubs at his forehead, shakes his head. “Fuck, man, I’ve been so jealous. It was stupid and I was drunk but I just wanted to feel wanted, and you were never going to be an option, so . . .”

Steve is still staring at him like he’s just been completely winded, flushed and speechless. 

In the stunned silence that follows . . . the adrenaline of confessing starts to ebb. 

Eddie reaches for whatever normalcy he can get out of making himself another peanut butter cracker. Time for damage control, time for making it clear that being just friends is fine and he’ll take what he can get, because he can’t imagine what a life without Steve in it would be like anymore. It’s fine. 

(Lie. Maybe he shouldn’t have done this, because he’s put himself out there, waaaaaay out there and now he’s just . . . hanging. And panicking. And, oh god, he is a coward.)

“But I can get over this, okay?” Eddie insists as he goes through the motions. “I can, and I’ll try not to be weird about it because the last thing I want is to not be able to be your friend, so if this is going to ruin anything then I—”

Before he can finish, Steve lunges across the small table, snagging one big hand around the back of his neck, palm against his scarred jawline, and drags him in sharply for a kiss. 

And Eddie kisses back. Of course he kisses back, he may have taken senior year three times but he’s not stupid.

[walsstino]

Mermaid of Walsstino

part 1/?

((NOTES))

This is the story that started it all. It’s been edited and rewritten from the role play, as the story took a wildly different turn than we had initially planned. I don’t know how often I’ll be updating it, but I hope you enjoy!

For content warnings, this part of story deals with a mermaid being taken prisoner. Anyone whose triggers might be along the line of kidnapping or violence should probably take note. Also, discussion of bodily harm? Maybe body horror as well. Not sure about that last one but tagging just in case. Please, let me know if I missed any other warnings.

((END NOTES))

The sea was silent, warm rays of sunlight breaking through the surface of the unsteady ocean and spilling into the depths the mermaids called home. It was the perfect day to swim a little bit further from the pod than usual as ships that could pose a threat couldn’t move nearly as swiftly as they would if the wind picked up, and some of the girls were even hunting for humans.

Not Nerissa.

She was one of those exploring remote parts of their territory in search of young mermaids among the fish they mimicked. It was the time of year when their heads would begin to peak out and were at their most vulnerable. The younglings couldn’t swim fast, were blind and could only rely on the adult mermaids to provide for them and keep them safe.

Nerissa found herself in a part of the sea that was not that deep, the waves drawing patterns on the sandy floor, when something unusual caught her eyes. She let go of a fish she was holding - it had just eaten too big of a prey and couldn’t close its mouth properly - and tilted her head, her long black hair spreading out with the current.

She hummed curiously, trying to focus her emerald eyes onto the cloud of glitters that were moving in the distance. What was that? She carefully swam forward, her pupils widening into a circle as her curiosity grew. Wait until her podmates saw her return with such a find! Though… it seemed too large for her to take it all… but she could try! Nerissa’s webbed fingers reached out and tugged the shimmering mass.

It wouldn’t part from the rest of it, though. The mermaid hissed and tried cutting it with her claws, but soon found her arm enveloped by the threads. She waved and kicked and tried swimming away, but the more she moved, the more of her body was covered by the net. She even managed to drag the threads for a few meters, but then got pulled back and her tail got stuck as well. She kept trashing and the net kept tightening around her.

In the end she gave up, unable to move a muscle. All she could do is move her head slightly and cry out for help in a futile hope that someone was close enough to hear and come. It was when she calmed her trashing that she could feel the net moving, pulling her towards the surface - and the closer she was to it, the more she could hear the jingling of hundreds of bells attached to the net’s upper layers. In panic, she began trashing again.

She gasped as she found herself above the water, her gills still fully open and dry chill piercing through her lungs. The experience left her dazed, and she only came around when her body hit a dry surface. Without a time to think she opened her mouth and cried out, a pure sound that in the water she would use to navigate her surroundings, but above the surface could be used to disorient the humans. The hypnotic effect of her voice took hold of those close enough and their bodies stiffened, their eyes glazing over. And yet, one seemed to be coming closer, determined and unaffected. Why was her voice not affecting this man with narrow eyes and fur around his mouth?

Nerissa cried even louder, yet the only thing she could do to fight back is attempt to bite him when his hands drew too close. He patiently ignored her and tightly tied a cloth around her mouth, muffling her voice enough that she could no longer use it as a weapon. With her claws stuck in the rope, she found herself utterly defenseless, and that was making her mad.

Nerissa attempted to insult the man, to call him a brainless sea cucumber, but she couldn’t form comprehensive words through the cloth. “Hmmmhmmmh Mhhmh!” was all that could be heard of her threat, as empty as it would be. The men seemed not to hear her or not care about her words.

Nerissa eventually resigned. She was trapped in an uncomfortable position, her breathing ragged. Everything was unpleasant - the air, the ropes, the hard wood beneath her, the makeshift gag… All she could do now was inspect her surroundings and hope to find an opening she’ll be able to use. She could see the last of the men who were coming out of the short-lived daze massage their eyebrows. Too bad she hadn’t managed to leave any serious damage.

“Do not injure her!” she heard one of the men call, a dark-haired one sitting on the floor a safe distance away. Following the command, she noticed a couple of men approach and shift the ropes around, loosening its hold of her. Fools! The moment she could move her arms, she would attack. Her body is a natural weapon against these frail humans! And she did it, lashing out towards the first man’s throat.

But the contact never happened.

As soon as she had leaped, the humans pulled her arm back and twisted it behind her back, the painful angle disabling her from attempting to attack with her other arm. They twisted it as well, and a rope was tied around her wrists so tightly that it was cutting into her skin. But she could still fight with her tail… right? She… just needed a way to use it. Yes. Just the right moment. She’ll figure it out.

Or maybe another mermaid would come to her rescue? Maybe someone had heard her cries? There wasn’t much hope for that, Nerissa knew it. Thus she relaxed her body, as if her will to fight was drained, and her expression turned sad. Her only way out was for them to lower their guard. Although she doubted anyone would buy into it, she let out the sounds of despair, something humans would recognize as sobbing. It worked though! The man with the knee on her tail seemed to lean back a bit, shifting his weight off of it, and she trashed the silver tail. She managed to knock him over and hit down upon his stomach.

“Edward!” someone called out and someone else grabbed the fallen fool, dragging him out of her reach as he gasped for air. She didn’t stop trashing though, trying to get closer to the rail and away from the men who were trying to pin her down again. They managed it in the end, though she had slipped them a few times. Soon she found herself in a contorted position, her tail tied with her hands. Any movements now only hurt. And yet, even trapped like that, she couldn’t help but grin. She gave a good fight.

Nerissa set her emerald eyes were upon that Edward person, who was leaning against a round wooden thing with a furry four-legged creature colored like a clown-fish curled in his lap. She moved her gaze over all of them, finally settling on the one she assumed to be the leader. After all, he was the one who ordered them not to injure her. She rose her dark eyebrows at him, challenging those storm-colored eyes to bring more trouble her way. She won’t back down.

Her gaze followed him as he got up unsteadily and then slowly approached her. The man seemed to be careful as to where he would stand in relation to her, finally crouching in front of her. His left hand reached for her hair. Oh, how would she love to drown this bastard! How fun would it be to watch him jump overboard with a bliss on his face, only for the spell to end when it’s too late for him to save himself. He had already shown a weakness. He didn’t want her injured. Why, she didn’t know, but it gave her time, and…

“We’re going to dry her. Easier to keep aboard that way,” he spoke, looking away from her, though a strand of her hair was still in his hand. Now, wait a minute! Why was he looking away? She pressed a cheek against his hand, drawing his attention back, and batted her eyelashes in an attempt to look charming. He couldn’t resist her, right? Not with the big fluttery eyes and the smattering of freckles across her pale cheeks?

“Exactly how long do you intend on keeping it without muting it?” A deep booming voice broke her illusion of having a chance to survive and get away. The one she was trying to woo bit his lip and then stood up, his hands moving to behind his back.

“As long as I can, sir,” he spoke through his teeth, looking neither towards the captain, nor her. He didn’t seem too happy about this exchange.

“Take her into the cargo hold,” the person Nerissa now guessed to be the leader said, his voice followed by heavy footsteps. The mermaid stared at her angry pet and let out whine, trying to get her attention again. She needed his protection, he was the one who would give her time. But he only stood still as two somebodies picked her up. She gave them a venomous look and began trashing, trying to prevent them from taking her away.

Her trashing didn’t do anything. Nerissa soon found herself in darkness. Her eyes adapted quickly, her pupils forming the curved shape they held in the deeper waters, but that did nothing about her situation. They kept going down, and down, the descent in no way smooth.

“Let’s just drop her,” the one holding her tail suggested, the scar across his jaw dancing as he spoke.

“Vincent said not to hurt her. Now, do you want to be scolded for being an idiot, ey?” the older one retorted, though he was already bending his knees to lower her down.

“You’re not the one holding the slippe… FUCK!” the younger one yelped as Nerissa wiggled her tail out of his grip. Her tail went down, and since the other man didn’t drop his side? She trashed her head up, colliding with him forehead to forehead.

“Johnathan, I will fuckin’ kill ya one day!” he yelled, clutching his head. She didn’t manage to draw blood, but it still hurt him. He retaliated by kicking her stomach and storming out while she attempted to curl up. Her restraints prevented her from moving, though. Trying to not think about pain, Nerissa attempted to catch the younger man’s eyes - but Johnathan was apparently smart and was suddenly fascinated by his nails. She couldn’t pick a fight with him. There was nothing she could do now.

[alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom]

GREY HEAVENS (F/F)

@deans-ch-ch-cherrypie ie was one of the first I met here and I’m so proud of her. This beautiful and always jealous (oh lord, she is super jealous) person reached 500 followers and of course I (tried) had to write a fic. I know Cherrypie, I said this is a Hvitserk x Ariel fic, but I love Ivar too much, I just can’t ignore him, oops sorry. Te amo odiosa!

Pairing: Hvitserk x Ariel x Ivar

Warnings: F/F smut, fingering, oral, voyeurism

Words: 1726

Thank you to my amazing beta reader @quantumlocked310 for making my sentences sound good, helping me with the moodboard and always motivating me! The idea for the name of this fic is btw from my honey @jadelynlace, because I have no patience to think about an appropriate name and her titles are outstanding.

a/n:. This fandom needs more F/F so I took my chance to write one. This is also a call to those who write F/F Vikings fics -> tag me!

Forget everything you know about Ariel, because the only thing my Ariel and the Disney Ariel have in common is the red hair.

Summary: A Mermaid is the last chance Hvitserk has to revive Lagertha.

Tags: @xbellaxcarolinax @pomegranates-and-blood @heavenly1927 @walkxthexmoon @punkrocknpearls @mrsalwayswrite @grimeundglow

If you ever find her then speak cautiously, she is mightier than the sea and gentler than the breeze.

The seer warned Hvitserk; mermaids don't like humans. Also, Aslaug taught him not to talk about mermaids since he was a child. The fear that these beings might hear was too big. They pull men into the bottom of the sea and let their ships sink. Their voices intoxicate the mind and manipulate humans. Their beauty dazzles men and makes it easy to underestimate them. They can hide but are still visible for those who are meant to see them.

He rode days and weeks to the far north of Norway, where the sea is wild and high waves crash against the huge rocks, far away from all the villages. Where there are almost no animals to eat and fish are difficult to catch. He could easily die, but it was the last chance Hvitserk had to revive Lagertha.

~~·······~~

Evening dawned and he gathered wood to prepare the fireplace for the night. A few faint fire sparks flew away in the slight wind when he ground two stones together to start the fire.

"With so little wood you won't survive more than two hours" Someone complained behind him.

Hvitserk hastily picked up his axe and turned around to see who that was. Almost nobody knew why he left Kattegat. Every day he thought about how he killed the most famous shield maiden. The wisest witches and healers tried to bring her back. Daily sacrifices and even Hvitserk himself gave his blood in the attempt to revive her, but none of this was successful.

“Ivar?” He dropped the axe. “What are you doing here? Tell me, who sent you, huh?” He grinned.

“Brother, I am Ivar the Boneless, if this half fish is really more powerful than me then I have to see her.” Ivar didn't want to rely on the rumors.

“I don’t want to be a mermaid’s meal, so be kind Ivar.”

“I doubt we will find her, them, it, whatever” Ivar was quite unimpressed by Hvitserk’s enthusiasm. He was just looking forward to the little trip through Norway’s landscapes.

~~·······~~

They walked an extensive white sand beach in search of mussels whenthey heard stones rolling and humming high voices coming out of a big cave.

The sun shone through a big hole in the cave’s ceiling and illuminated two women laying on one another. They quietly tried to climb over the slippery stones in the entrance of the cavern to get closer.

The pureness of their naked bodies, never touched by a man, sliding against each other. Their bright silver-colored skins, glistening in the sunlight like sea pearls. Their wavy hair hid part of their faces. Rose lips sucking on the skin of the red-haired's neck while their thighs pressed around the other’s, spreading their juices over their intertwined legs. Two bodies soft as silk melting together, grinding their pussies and bringing each other to a shared pleasure.

It was silent, only their heavy breathing echoed in the big cave, making the squelching noises of their wetness hush. Their bodies harmonized and embraced; they took their time to satisfy each other without showing dominance.

She shivered at the feeling of the blue-haired’s teeth raking along the flesh of her throat. She was enticed by the way her tongue swirls and swipes the mounds of her chest, tasting the salty valley between her plump breasts. Addicted to the sight of her hips thrusting against her own, feeling the heat that wracked their entire bodies.

One hand roamed down the shape of her body and groped her ass. The blue-haired lifted her partner’s right leg and placed it over her shoulder, exposing her fully. She licked two fingers on her right hand and trailed them down over the red-haired thigh until she reached her cunt.

The red-haired pressed her beloved closer, having only a moment to breathe out before she delved her wet fingers inside her lover’s dripping walls. She stroked deeper, harder and faster; all the while nibbling the soft skin behind her earlobe. She pulled her fingers out and teased her entrance. Her tongue swirled over her lip, before she thrusted her fingers in one move again into her partner’s throbbing pussy adding one finger to stretch her more.

The red-haired pried her legs open andburied both hands in the other’s blue hair to trail her down, arching her back to catch each kiss she left. She brought her lover’s head between her legs and laid her mouth on her center, replacing her fingers. Her arms wrapped around the red-haired's thighs as her tongue dragged against her warmth, parting her folds to rub against her most sensitive spots. She moaned, savoring the taste of the one beneath her pulsating pussy, not missing a drop of her juices.

When her thumb brushes the smooth skin of her hard nipple, kneading it, the red-haired rewarded it with a melodic moan, a little louder this time. The strands of her red hair fell down from her face as she raised her head, revealing her gorgeous face. Her eyes shut tight and her lips trembled, before they spread in a euphoric moan with every slam of her thighs onto the blue-haired cheeks. She bucked her hips nearly throwing the blue-haired off her lap. Her hands looking for something to grip onto, settling them on blue locks. Seeing the lust-filled gaze of her beautiful girl tensed her body. Her end was near, the one above her flicked her tongue at a fast pace, curling it over clit once, twice until her body exploded in satisfaction, coating her mouth with her juices.

The shameless string of moans woke Hvitserk up from his trance.

“Do you think they are mermaids? Real mermaids?”

Ivar didn’t answer. Hvitserk hit him with his elbow, but h was totally obsessed from their magnet-like aura.

“Hey Ivar” He tried to get his attention again.

“What?!” Ivar finally could avert his gaze from them.

“I asked, if you think that these are mermaids?”

“Of course they are! Did you ever see a woman being so divine?!” It was obvious to him.

They heard a loud noise of something heavy dropping into the water but when they looked back to the place they were laying, both were gone.

“You idiot! See what you did, you should learn to speak more-”

“Mermaid! I can see you!” The mermaid’s colored hair reflected in the water. “Come out here! We don’t want to kill you!” Ivar ignored his brother and crawled over the slippery stones in their direction.

The red-haired rose confident out of the water presenting herself. Waterdrops covered her pale and shimmering skin. She titled her head to one side, focusing the two foreign men with her green eyes, without blinking.

“Vikings” She broke the intriguing silence. The way this word rolled of her tongue was tantalizing.

“We didn’t want to...uhm… “ Hvitserk stuttered ashamed about Ivar’s insolence. “We are looking for someone, a special woman, well she is more than a woman. Her name– “

“Ariel. I knew you would come. You’re here because of Lagertha’s death.” She completed his sentence.

The blue-haired came out from behind the rock and placed herself close to Ariel. Two goddess-like appearances, both the same; tall, hypnotizing them.

“Ariel. Hello Ariel” Ivar smirked, speaking in a seductive tone, scanning her naked body with his glance. “I assume you are the powerful creature Hvitserk needs.” He took a lazy step closer. ”Powerful and beautiful. I have a weakness for woman like you.” He confessed, brushing his lower lip between his teeth.

She approached and her cheek pressing lightly against his. Her damp red hair wet his armor as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“I know who you are Ivar. So let me tell you whoIam.” He closed his eyes to memorize her unique salty smell better. “I am not a woman, I am a mermaid and mermaids don’t need to deal with men. And...don’t you dare to touch me!” Ivar clenched his fist and lowered his hand again.

She leaned back and spoke to the more rational brother. “I can’t help you Hvitserk. I’m sorry you came here in vain.” She wasn’t a talkative creature, especially when she felt used.

“Hey silver skin, where are you going?” Ivar started to treat her rude out of frustration. “We are not done here.” Ivar followed her out of the cave to the beach.

“But the seer told me you can, you can revive people. I didn’t want to kill her, please, it was a mistake.” Hvitserk tried to persuade her from the distance.

“This is my home.” She admired the calm of the ocean. “I can save anyone who gets lost in the heart of the sea, but Lagertha is not there.”

“Hey!” She gasped as Ivar grabbed her arm to hold her back. She immediately closed her eyes and was benumbed.

“No” The blue haired yelled and hissed, pushing Ivar away. He let go of her and Ariel started breathing again. Her eyes opened and even if they hadn’t told her how Lagertha died, she already knew it. She felt what they felt and saw what they saw. There was no secret that remained hidden from her.

“It wasn’t you who killed her, you were deceived Hvitserk. I am unable to overpower a dark might.” Hvitserk bowed his head. “But she’s fine. She is with Ragnar and she forgives you…and you too, Ivar.” Ivar rolled his eyes.

Ariel took her beloved by the hand and both stepped into the little waves. The silver colour of their legs became more luminous and greener the longer they stood in the water.

“Let’s go back to our sisters, my dear. I can hear them calling.” Her long red hair framed the curves from her swaying hips.

“And Ivar- “ She looked over her shoulder “- as long as your heart craves revenge, you will never be able to love.”

The sunlight reflected on her emerald green scales before she disappeared with her dearest in the depth of the sea completely.

Ivar waited a moment longer hoping to see her one last time.

“Ivar, it’s over.” Hvitserk laid his arm on Ivar’s shoulder and pulled him away.

[hunterartemisanime]

KnB Commentary: “Cool girl” and “fanservice”: the two types of female characters in sports anime: Astrological Angle

I have previously made two posts about KnB and astrology, and I realised I could not incorporate all the things I wanted to incorporate in those two posts. Then I realised I made the same mistake as the mangakas of Shonen plots: ignoring the female. So let’s go Oha-Asa once more and get down to the two main females in Kuroko no Basket.

Kuroko no basket has two most frequently appearing female character: Riko Aida and Momoi Satsuki. They are the two example of ‘stereotypes’ of females in sports anime, but their characters, astrologically speaking goes far deeper than that. They are both stereotypes and not stereotyped at the same time; in fact they represent two of the female archetypes in Astrology.

Momoi Satsuki: 4th May: Taurus Sun, Aries Moon (Moon and South Node Influenced)

Momoi Satsuki, despite being a GoM member often felt like she is not as par with the rest, but Fujimaki sensei wrote that she might be more obsessed with Basketball than the rest. Now, there was a reason for her “infantile” and seductively feminine nature. She is a Taurus like Hyuuga, but unlike him she is Moon influenced. Her Sun sits in the 4th Lunar mansion, the Rohini Constellation (the constellation of the Red One), Making her moon influenced. Moon influenced women are super feminine, super sensitive and receptive to strong influences. On the other hand, appearance wise they are tend to be fleshy and often bust heavy because it is said that Moon is associated with motherhood, milk and nourishment. 

In the video essay of YouTuber Claire Nakti she mentioned that lunar women, especially Rohini women are often called "Sugar babies". This might be because of a mythological reason. The 27 constellations in Indian mythology were actually 27 wives of Moon (moon is male in Hinduism), and out of 27, Rohini was moon's favourite wife. Thus Rohini natives are always craving affection and they will willingly maintain a childlike outlook to do so. Rohini was also very jealous of the rest of 26 consorts and Rohini women demand to be no 1 in their special someone's list, if they aren't then fits of anger, dramatic outbursts are crying awaits for their significant others. Momoi did have an outburst when she was arguing with Aomine which resulted her meltdown in Seirin. Moon women not only receive influence, but also reflect and molds around that said influence. Thus they tend to select a person as a source of influence and mold their lives around it; it is more of a caring than submissive instinct. She followed Daiki to Touou to make sure that he doesn’t fall out of this track again. Because Daiki is sun influenced and made such an impact, she is so attached to him like that.

Y'all can ship Momoi x Aomine or Momoi x Kuroko all you want (personally I am on the same boat) but astrology tells neither of them are fit for Momoi. Sun men like Daiki (who is Uttar Phalguni native in Virgo), don't prefer women who are too caring, too feminine or innocent. They treat lunar women very distantly, treating them as infants whose caring attitudes are often dismissed by them. Kuroko is also not a good match because he is a Rahu native, who are naturally ambitious, breaking the taboo kind of people, who don't float around the same boat a moon women. Rahu natives are analytical in nature and they are never stable around one particular energy. They look around to recieve influences that stimulate them intellectually. Moon women are also receptive in nature like Rahu natives which repel and cancel each other. Moon women are equal in giving love and they are all about female inclusiveness; their frequency are not for the free agent and ambitious Sun and Rahu natives

Riko Aida: (February 5th, Aquarius sun and Leo Moon: Venus and North Node influenced)

The gamine, tomboy beauty Aida Riko fits the "cool girl" stereotype more. She can hang with the boys, she is stubborn, athletic and doesn't take shits from anyone. She is a Purba Phalguni (Leo) moon and Shatabhisa (Aquarius) Sun: which makes her Rahu and Venus dominant. I have wrote about her previously, but not in the detail. I mentioned both her Sun and Moon sign to signify three Archetypical Female Energy in the Astrology: Moon, Venus and Rahu. Moon is the virginal innocence, Venus is Beautiful Sex Goddess and Rahu is hypnotic and Destructive Lilith. Riko embodies two of the three. How? Let's check out.

While Momoi is all accepting, all loving and poses as a non-threatening Entity to the Generation of Miracles, Riko becomes different altogether. Venus in astrology is refinement, beauty, perfection and pleasure, and Venus women become very critical and judgmental about anything crude or crass. Riko's obsession with cultivating talent, perfecting her boys to national grade high school basketball team is a direct Venusian trait. She is also very analytical and intelligent in nature and she seems to be always "judging" other people--this is the reason people around her are at their best behaviour. She is essentially lady-Pygmalion of a coach in KnB universe.

Claire Nakti speaks in her “Venus Dominant women” video that Moon is Milk (bland, white, nourishing,) Venus is Ice-cream (sweet, colourful, satiating), and Rahu is Liquor (astringent, dark, intoxicating). Rahu women are hypnotic, rebellious and often struggle with their feminine identity as a whole: they deny their femininity sometimes just to receive strong and masculine energy. The ultimate female energy is imagined as something of a black hole, it pulls things in; Rahu, because of it’s devouring nature is seen as ultimate archetype of the Feminine. Riko has been surrounded with male-centric environment all her life: raised by a single father, lived and grew up in a professional athlete gym, went to a high school where female population are less than males and finally became somewhat of an authoritative figure of a powerhouse basketball team. Rahu women are also the female archetype of “Lilith” who traps men with her charms only to destroy them. Riko has a world constructed around her, which has set high standards and grueling exercises for the players which is hinted to exhaust them very often. She is also seen with a deadly edge with her horrible cooking, and the incident with the knife in training camp. Because Riko is very “yin” or “feminine” in her Sun and Moon placement, she naturally pulls in Hyuuga who is the “alpha yang” in the team, being both “Sun” and “Mars” influenced. 

...

Tags: @sidd-hit-my-butt-ham @yanderebakugo @kurokonbscenarios @kurokonobasket @kurokonoboisket @art-zites @idinaxye @sp-chernobyl @strawbe3ryshortcake @reservethemoon @rilnen @a-shy-potato @thirsthourdemon @animebxxch @edagawasatoru @akawaiishi-blog @reinyrei @chloe-noir @theswahn @ahobaka-trash @jeilliane @trashtoria  @scarlettedwardsposts @quirkydarling @ghostieswaifu @levihan-freaks @hope-im-spirited-away @yves0809 @marshiro1101 @bubziles @heartfullofknb @kit-kat57 @akichan-th​

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Day 12: “Aren’t fish meant to stay in the water?”

Masterlist; Pirate terms

This may be the best thing i’ve ever written! Also ahhh we are finished with 12 days of fanfics??? which is crazy?? I hope you guys have enjoyed because this has been so much fun for me!

Pirate/Siren AU

Percy Jackson can hear the whining of the sails from his little cabin and it soothes the jagged edges of him that continue to grip the life he once had. A life of peace; a farmer’s son, plowing at the earth underneath scorching sun and buzzing insects. It is honest work, but it is mind-numbing and his hands work too quickly for the plow, and his thoughts race too fast for the field, and he just needed more. Now, almost a year later, he has plagued the seas, knotting ropes and digging his nails into the rich wood of his ship. Andromeda. He loves her with every fibre of his being he should have loved his farm life with. She is sleek, a deep walnut colour, and has bright blue sails that can be seen from miles away. It is to tell his mother he is safe, should she ever look out to sea and wonder if he lives. His heart squeezes as he remembers their last conversation, so full of tears and words left unsaid. He hopes she understands, he hopes time has healed her wounds even if it hasn’t healed his.

The white buttoned shirt hanging open exposes his chest and the flat planes of his stomach to the elements. The cold draft that always seems to sweep through the hull, pebbles his earth brown skin. He breathes in the familiar scent of the ocean, letting it fill up his tired body, as he makes quick work of the ties holding what’s left of his shirt together, before shrugging on his emerald coat, the exact colour of his eyes, and his most prided raid possession. As he’s slipping his compass into his pocket his door is flung open, slamming against the cabin wall with a loud crack.

“Captain!” His quartermaster, and best friend, gasps, black eyes as wide as saucers. “You should come see this.”

He frowns, unused to seeing Frank so excited. “Are we under attack do we need to-”

“No Captain,” He shakes his head vigorously, “It’s a wreck.”

Percy is out the door and racing up the staircase before anyone can say Andromeda. The scene he is greeted with above is enough to raise the hairs at the back of his neck. His crew members all hang over the side, peering down at the floating pieces of wood, and cloth, and disaster littering the grey seas. The air is quiet, too quiet. As if nobody dares to break the silence because it is stringing the moment together in fragile balance. 

“What happenings?” He asks roughly.  His crew jumps, all turning to stand to attention.

“Captain,” His sailing master, nods, “She’s wrecked, bilged on her anchor.” 

“That does not cause this.” He frowns, moving towards the edge to see the wreckage up close. “This looks like she was blown through.”

“We didn’t hear any fire,” Frank says, getting nods of confirmation from the crew.

“Survivors?”

“But one Captain,” Reyna, holds out her telescope and offers it to him. It is usually attached to her, used to navigate them to his needs. His sailing master is nothing but talent and sass, but right now she looks stricken. “Northwest of the mast.”

He focuses his eyes, adjusting to the size of the telescopes frame, and sees only a flash of bright, gold-spun hair, and white hands clinging to wood. “A Jack Tar?”

“A beast.” The quarter-master mutters softly.

Percy whips around, green eyes ablaze. “Manner?”

“Siren, we believe.” Reyna’s voice is soft with disbelief.

“Bring them up,” He growls, handing her telescope back, “And do no harm.”

He can see the crew exchange looks at his request but with a thump of his sword against the deck, they all race into motion. Grabbing rope and sails in order to slow the movement of the ship. Reyna climbs up the mast and directs the crew from the crows nest, trying to get the ship as close as possible to the bobbing body, floating further away from them with every second.

Percy stands on the bowsprit looking through his own miniature telescope as he watches the figure get bigger. He hears a splash and knows someone has thrown a life-line over. He hears Frank shout to the creature, telling them to grab the float and hold on. They don’t move, don’t even look up, and for a heart-wrenching moment he thinks they’re too late.

But someone shouts again and ever so slowly the creature looks up, directly at him, and that blue gaze shatters every part of his soul. He stumbles back onto the deck and helps the crew in hauling the stranded up. Their skin, almost translucent, like moonlight, glitters as they lift an arm to wrap around the buoy. With two counts they heave, and heave, and heave. Until the creature is on the deck, ocean eyes hollow, and body shivering like they aren’t used to being exposed. 

Faint scales, the colour of coral, line the undersides of their arms, and wrap around their neck, but their torso is bare, and smooth as glass. The tail, gorgeous and gleaming in the rapidly rising sun, is the same soft pink, with flecks of green and sapphire running through it.

Percy crouches down, near their head of gold, and leans over them. “Aren’t fish meant to stay in water?” He smirks.

The creature doesn’t even bat an eyelash, continuing to stare up at the sky in devoid trance.

“What is your name?” He asks, and this time his voice is carefully constructed; the captain issuing a command.

They turn their head, finally looking at him. “Your human tongue cannot pronounce the name of the sea.”

“What should we call you?” He is not deterred. 

They blink their eyes, surprise there and gone in an instant. “Jason.”

“Why were you hanging around a ship wreck?”

Their face curls in disgust, “Stupid humans were having a battle and blew up their ship. I was-” They choke, as if it pains them to admit it. “I was too slow, and got injured in the crossfire.”

“Where are you injured?”

“I cannot say until i have gotten my legs.” They shrug, and he hears the scrape of their scales against his deck.

“You can acquire human legs?”

“Yes,” They purse their lips, “It is a painful process, but a protective measure should we ever be captured by humans.”

“Should it take this long?”

“It takes longer when I’m injured.” They sigh, “I will have to give it time.”

“What are we to do with you until then?”

Jason whips their head towards him, emotions flying across their face faster than he can comprehend. “You are giving me a choice? You are not going to slaughter me, or sell me?”

Percy frowns, the deep lines between his brows shadowing his beautiful face. “Why would we do that? What belongs to the sea should stay there.”

“I-” They blink, “You are not like other humans.” Before Percy can ask them what that means they are grabbing his hand, cold skin pressing against the pulsing heat of his own. “Please take me somewhere safe. The pain is starting”

And with that they close those hypnotic blue eyes and the hand in his goes limp. He doesn’t say anything to his crew as he tucks an arm behind Jason’s back, and another underneath the curve in their tail. Standing up with the grace of a dancer, he turns towards his cabin, stopping at the stairs, and looking out at his crew.

“Haul wind for Narcissus island, and do not stop unless attacked.” And then he is disappearing into his quarters, deliberately ignoring the questions he can see in his quartermaster’s eyes.

“Weigh Anchor!” He hears Frank shout, “Smartly!” before he shuts the door to the outside world.

He sets the creature down on his bed, holding their hand tightly in his as he watches their face bead with sweat. The pain is excruciating and it is a wonder the siren does not scream out. But slowly their legs appear, as translucent as the rest of their body, and the beautiful scales across their body fade into nothing.

They open their eyes, which glow in the darkness of the space, and look down to see their legs. They look up again, and a smile blooms across their face, as wide and glowing as the stars.

“Hello my love,” He grins, brushing a hand across their cheek. “I have missed you.”

“Please come home.” Jason whispers, leaning into his touch. “Your kingdom needs you. I need you.”

Percy smiles unrestrained, and captures their lips in his own. “You are here. I am already home.”

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

Tags:

@nishlicious-01​

@spoopylucy​

@leydiangelo​

[haildoodles-writing]

BE’SOL

— KA’RA, PART 2

“Priority.”

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue,  Alternate Ending

Summary: Din can’t make any more excuses, and he realizes he’s make a mistake.

Pairing: the mandalorian x reader

Warnings: mentions of surgery/breaking open skin (briefly, no gore)

A/N: Part 2 is here! If you would like to be included in the Ka’ra tag list for future installments, let me know!

Now on AO3!

* * * 

A few days turned into a week. A week turned into two. And then two weeks turned into three, and he still had you on board.

If he had to excuse himself away, he could. After refueling and returning to the blackness of space, another member of the Guild attacked his ship and blew out an engine. That led Din to make an emergency stop at the nearest planet, hoping to find a mechanic good enough to fix an entire wing of his ship in a day or two. But then he found himself entrenched in another job, trying to come up with the credits to pay the engineer. That took a week.

Once he was back on track, he had stopped at another planet— a small one, sparsely populated and covered in thick rainforest— to feed the little one. Both you and Din could survive on rations, after all, but the kid needed something easier to chew on.

That started off as a measly few hours, but when a group of local villagers begged him to fend off a group of invasive canines the height of the average man— well, he knew he had to help. They paid well enough, anyways. Plus one pleading from you, and he was a goner.

So yes, he could offer excuse after excuse as to why you were still here, with him. But he didn’t want to.

And so here he was, on the ramp leading from his ship and staring at you as you swayed on the grass.

Din had killed the rabid animals that morning, creeping around in the vegetation all night until he managed to spot them. He was exhausted, that much was certain— he ached to his very bones. You had convinced him to sleep earlier that day, your voice seeping up underneath his helmet and delicate fingers stopping him by the forearms until he caved. In that moment, he had wondered what it would feel like to touch you. Without the gloves.

He wondered if your skin was as soft as your voice.

He had ended up dozing on the grass for a few hours, but his sleep was fitful enough that he eventually gave up. Instead, he moved his ship to a hill overlooking the village and played with the kid while you talked to the villagers.

If he had to admit it, he had grown used to having you around. It took a day or two for you to memorize your way around the ship, feeling every crack and crevice until you knew where everything was. And then you were off, making yourself at home. As if you belonged there. You had treated the kid as your own,  too, taking care of him when Din couldn’t. Before he found you, Din loathed the fact that his job was dangerous enough to the point where leaving the kid alone was better than taking him with him. But now . . . now you were with the child. Now he could sleep better at night and take jobs without a guilty conscience.

And so Din adjusted, sleeping on a makeshift cot to let you and the kid sleep in his own bed. Setting aside extra rations for you, just in case. Keeping a hand out whenever you stepped someplace outside the ship, warning you of any bumps or objects along the path. He even made a cane for you out of wood he purchased, just so you could feel your way around easier. Din adjusted— almost too easily.

That night, the villagers were celebrating. Drinks and food were passed around while music blared, and you participated, but eventually the kid grew tired and you all retired to the ship. Din put the kid down, wrapping him in a pile of blankets on his cot before shutting the door. And then there he was, watching you from the ramp.

You swayed where you sat, fiddling with blades of grass as you listened to the distant music from the villagers. Hair brushed against your cheeks from the wind, but you paid it no mind. Instead, you were focused wholly on the music, eyes staring blankly ahead as you hummed—

And then your head shifted to the side, and a smile pulled at your lips.

“Is it beautiful?” You asked.

Din didn’t know exactly what you were talking about. “Yes,” he said anyways.

That seemed to satisfy you, and you hummed in contentment. “I think I would’ve liked to see it.”

He assumed you were talking about the village, about the firelight in the distance sparkling amongst the stars. It was beautiful indeed, but he didn’t need to look at it. Instead, he kept looking at you.

Din basked in the silence for a moment, and then began stepping down the ramp towards you. But then you spoke, and he stopped in his tracks.

“I think I would’ve liked to see you,” you said. Softly, secretly, as if he wasn’t meant to hear it.

And then you raised your voice slightly, enough for him to hear better. “You describe yourself to me. I can hear your armor, your footsteps. I can hear your voice through your helmet. But that’s all,” you said, then paused. “That’s all.”

He hated the somberness in your tone. He hated the way your hand clenched and unclenched slowly, raised above your lap. He hated the fact that he, somehow, made you feel discontentment.

From where he was frozen on the ramp, Din ground out, “What can I do?”

That seemed to catch you off guard, and you slowly lowered your hand to your lap. For a moment, you seemed to fight for words—but when Din began to walk again and stepped down onto the grass, you spit out, “Can I feel you?”

Din paused, staring at you. You were biting your lip, hard, with your hands clasped against your stomach. And then he reminded himself that for you, to touch was to see.

You wanted to see him. You wanted to learn him.

And so he slowly walked forward and lowered himself next to you, ignoring the tightness in his chest.

At his presence, you grinned brightly— but when when he lightly grabbed your hand and placed it atop his own, that smile dropped to something else. Something softer.

He could feel your fingers press against his hand through his gloves, itching to move, to explore. But still, you waited. Until—

“Yes,” Din said.

You shifted then, turning towards him more fully and pulling his hand into your lap. He could feel the heat of your thighs, your hands, seeping into his gloves, and he nearly fell apart. But then . . . Then, with one hand, you slowly started tracing his form, the other palm busy grasping his fingers. You began at the tips of his gloves, tracing over the buttons and gadgets lining his wrist and then the beskar at his forearm. And then you moved up, up, up, until you were running your fingers across his chest.

As you felt, you also spoke, asking him what color everything was. He answered mindlessly, too hypnotized by your touch—

But then his mouth got the better of him, and he whispered, “How do you know colors?”

Your hand stopped over his heart, fingertips slipping in between his shirt and chest plate. And then you laughed, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if you could feel his heart thump in return.

“Blind people understand color in different ways,” you said. A grin still pulled at your lips. “It helps us . . .  categorize the world.” And then you paused. “Besides, I wasn’t always like this.”

That made Din hesitate. You continued your ministrations, slowly rubbing at the fabric of his shirt along his collar bones, spending more time there than anywhere else. He spoke when you reached his neck, feeling the edge of his helmet.

“If I may ask. . .” he swallowed, “what happened?”

No, no. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

You fell silent at that, focusing solely on the shape of his helmet. It was only when Din nearly apologized for his abruptness when you answered.

“My parents, my family . . . They are not good people,” you said quietly. For a moment, you traced the metal beneath his eyes. “I have . . . abilities, talents, that are stronger than they should be. And they wanted for themselves. They wanted to control me.” And then you swallowed, your expression going blank. “They thought acid would do the trick.”

For a moment, Din couldn’t focus, still processing your words. But when it sunk in like a weight in his stomach, he couldn’t breathe.

If he looked hard enough, he could see irregularities in the skin surrounding your eyes, your temples, your cheeks. Acid burns healed over.

The idea that a family would do something to their daughter, a woman who was softness incarnate, who didn’t even hesitate to help her former enemy—

He wanted to kill them.

You could evidently feel the anger seeping through him, because your hand slid from his chest to his other hand. He didn’t notice how hard he was clenching his fist until your fingers pulled them apart.

“It’s alright, it’s over now,” you said, squeezing both of his hands now.

But no, no it wasn’t.

Because Din had taken you as a bounty. He had tracked you, imprisoned you, and planned on taking you back into the arms of the monsters you had run from in the first place. And for a moment, Din felt that he was choking.

He couldn’t do that to you. He couldn’t hurt you.

“Come with me,” Din eventually ground out, standing up suddenly and pulling you to your feet by both hands. You made a noise of protest—but he was already walking, leading you to his ship. Once you were safely inside with the ramp raised, he pulled out a crate and had you sit.

It took him only a moment to grab his medical kit from beneath his bed. And then he was back, straddling the crate with you in front of him.

“What are you—“

“I need you to trust me,” Din said, quietly. Guilt had lodged itself in his throat at that point, permitting him to speak any louder than a whisper.

And then he pulled out his tracking fob, its beeping filling the air. He swept it over your body until he found where it was— the tracker, slipped just underneath the skin of your left bicep. Once he found it, he made no hesitation in crushing the device on the floor.  

“I need to remove a tracker from your arm,” Din said, watching your scrunched brows smooth. ”You need to roll up your sleeve.”  

A breath escaped him when you slowly obeyed, folding your sleeve up until it was tucked securely on your shoulder. Din removed his gloves then, slowly reaching up to trace your bicep with calloused fingers. He had to ignore how utterly soft you were.

Stuffing down his thoughts, felt it immediately: a small square, just underneath your skin. Once he found the exact location, he took out the necessary tools from his kit. And then he waited.

“May I?”

At the idea of him having to cut open your skin, you blanched— but in the end, you nodded. Albeit slowly.

“Okay.”

After cleaning the skin around the tracker, he tried to move as swiftly as he could. He didn’t like the panic in your face, nor the hiss you made when he sliced open your skin. But he made quick work of it, and soon he had a tracker resting on his thigh and a few stitches in your arm. He set the medical kit aside, and with one firm press, the tracker was destroyed. He cleaned up silently.

Once Din was finished, he turned to you. You were breathing shakily. Likely processing everything.

Slowly, carefully, he unfolded your sleeve, letting it glide down your arm. His fingers paused at your hand. For a moment, he allowed himself to touch you— not out of necessity, but because he wanted to. And then he felt his callouses scratch your skin, and his hand retreated to his side.

The two of you sat in silence, ironically for longer than Din would’ve liked. And then his voice cut through the tension like a knife:

“You should stay.”

You moved at that, evidently caught off guard. One of your hands dropped to the crate, eerily close to his thigh.

“. . .What do you mean?” The question was rough, raspy, likely matching Din’s own voice.

Din cleared his throat. “You seem to enjoy it here—and the villagers have taken a liking to you. You could be safe here,” he reasoned.

For a moment, he watched as you chewed on the idea.

“Would you be here?” you asked.

Din nearly choked. Though he wanted to—

“No.”

You paused again. “Would the baby be here?”

Again, though he wanted to, no. The kid’s tracker wasn’t physical like he had hoped. He couldn’t simply take out and destroy a tracker like yours; something bigger was at play here.

“No.”

You hummed, and Din didn’t fail to notice that your thumb absently began tracing his knee.

“Then no, I think I’ll stay with you.”

The answer both warmed Din to his fingertips and stopped him cold— though he liked your company, he didn’t want to risk your safety—

“You seem to not have anyone you can trust,” you continued, picking up on his panic. “And the baby needs someone when you’re out working. And . . . I like it here,” you added. “It feels safe.”

Din weighed everything out. He would be risking your safety, yes, but . . . really, he couldn’t be assuring your safety on this planet, either. Other people seemed to be out looking for you, tracking fob or no.

Plus, being here would be beneficial. For both the kid and him. Especially the kid, who had taken a liking to you almost instantly. And you said that you wanted to be there.

Perhaps . . .

Perhaps he didn’t have to make up excuses to keep you on board anymore. Perhaps you wouldn’t have to, either.

“Okay,” he said.

And that was that.

* * * 

Tag list: @lirinchi​ @acehyacinth​ @thunderingbats​ @biolo-tea @shadowfoxey​ @nyashi-kaages​ @soradragon​ @aeryntheofficial​ 

[starker-stories]

Icarus

Created for @mcukinkbingo​​ Also on AO3 Square Filled: Shibari Ship: Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Starker Rating: E Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Word Count: 1521 Additional Tags: Shibari, Bondage, Rope Bondage, Japanese Rope Bondage, College Age Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, They're in the Malibu house because I like it  Summary: Beyond the quiet music, there was nothing but their breaths, the soft pad of Tony’s feet as he circled Peter’s body, and the sound of the ropes. ——————————————————

It was hypnotic, the repeated soft sound that the ropes made sliding against each other.

It was engrossing, the way Tony’s fingers twisted and wrapped the cords around him.

There was soft music playing in the background. Nothing distinctively a song or even recognizable as a purposeful composition. Tony told him that it actually was a purposeful composition. “As ignorable as it is interesting,” he said, as the composer had intended it. It was ambient, soothing, melodic tones.

Beyond the quiet music, there was nothing but their breaths, the soft pad of Tony’s feet as he circled Peter’s body, and the sound of the ropes.

Tony doesn’t tell Peter how to move. The silence is maintained. He guides him into his next position. His hands hold there, long enough for Peter to know that he’s supposed to stay that way. He does and the ropes begin wrapping around his left leg, pulling his knee bent, his heel pressing against the back of his thigh. His foot points his toes toward the rise of his ass. The knots form on the outside of the crease of his leg’s fold. Red, red, gold, red, gold, red red.

There’s a pattern there, but Peter can’t see it. He won’t see unless Tony shows him what he looks like in a mirror. Even then, he won’t see the entirety of the pattern until he sees the recording. Even then… he’ll never see what Tony sees, the image of him that he has in his eye. He’ll never know what Tony finds that’s beautiful in him. There’s a pattern there, but Peter can’t see it.

Soft breaths, soft ropes, soft music. Calloused fingers deftly weaving threads of actual gold around the rope Tony pulled Peter’s ankle up with. Tying the length to the hook from the ceiling that already holds his opposite arm into the position Tony’s tied it. Opposite leg and arm are free, but that won’t be for long.

Tony guides Peter’s left arm down in front of his body in a delicate curve, an almost ballet-like position. The first rope, a thin five-strand flat braid — red red gold red red — wraps around his ball sac, distending them, then sliding between them, separating. Just below his cock, he brings the braid up to Peter’s wrist and leaves it draped there for the moment. A broader, flatter braid of nine strands — gold red gold gold red gold gold red gold — wraps around his cock, now erect.

He splits the braid just underneath the head and joins it to the braid from his balls. Unlike the work on his left leg and right arm, this is delicate, tedious work. Tony’s fingers move expertly, the way they do when he’s working a wiring harness into his armor. The final, joined braid, he turns into an intricate patterned bracelet that pulls his erection up the length of his body, the tip of his cock touching the edge of his wrist, his balls pulled up at the base. Peter would need to see it from an angle other than looking straight down, but there seems to be something classic about the position.

The bracelet braid is split again and worked over his hand, between his fingers. Tony weaves it into the end of one of the thicker red ropes. Meeting the ones from his left leg, he knots them around his waist. Then they wrap flat around his stomach in a diamond pattern, making a waist cinching corset. Tony looks up into Peter’s face for the first time since he started, and he smiles just before bending and pressing a light kiss to the exposed head of Peter’s cock. The silence is broken by a breathy moan.

More of the thicker ropes are gathered and knotted into a flying harness designed to comfortably support Peter’s weight when the final work on his right leg is completed. Ropes are left hanging, not yet worked into their final design. Strong threads of gold are tangled into Peter’s curly chestnut hair. The harness provides the red as the golden metal thread coming from Peter’s hair is wrapped around it. Tony gives a gentle tug to make sure that the pressure is evenly distributed and no one area will pull.

Peter’s right leg is wrapped in a pattern that leaves large areas of skin exposed, yet along the back of his leg. The knots are tightly together in a straight line from Peter’s ass to his ankle. The thickest rope is woven through the splint of knots and brought to join the harness.

When Peter is raised off the ground, there is no discomfort. His weight is evenly carried throughout the entire pattern. One leg bent, the other extended. One arm angled sharply behind his back, the other curved gently across his front. His head is held up so he looks forward instead of down. He flies like an angel without wings.

Tony runs his hands over Peter’s body. Caressing every inch from extended pointed toes to cup his cheek. He kisses Peter deeply, passionately. Pulling on the thick rope, the kiss is broken by Peter rising away from him, far above the workshop, almost to the ceiling. With a remote, he directs pinpoints of sharp bright light, creating shadows and highlights.

Peter can’t see below him. He can’t see down the length of his body. Only straight forward out the high clerestory windows that look out on the ocean. He has no idea what he looks like until Tony tells him.

“So beautiful, baby,” Tony says, his voice low and reverent. Peter can hear a low murmur after, as Tony directs JARVIS’ camera angles.

“Are you doing okay?” he asks.

Peter’s tightly held and his body thrums with the rush of endorphins. His eyes are unfocused, his lips parted, his breaths heavy and carry soft moans of pleasure.

“Yes, Tony,” he answers in a dreamy, distant tone.

“Baby, focus, beautiful. Listen to my voice. Come down from heaven and hear me.” He pauses. He can’t see Peter’s face, the one drawback to the pose, but he can see the way his body responds. Instead of lying there, stretched out and supported by the ropes, his body carrying none of its own weight, floating too lightly, Peter returns and, while not tense, he is holding himself as he was tied. “Are you okay, Peter?” Tony asks again.

“A little bit longer?” Peter asks. He can see the ocean. And he flies above it.

Tony smiles. “Just a little.” He gives Peter another three minutes in the air. “Time to return to earth, baby.” Slowly, he starts to lower the thick rope. “Time to come back to me.”

On the ground again, balanced on his right leg, Tony holds Peter up as he pulls carefully placed ropes that were woven in, designed to untie. He supports Peter’s body with his arm around his chest as his left leg is untied and joins his right, standing on the ground. As he’s untied, Peter whimpers sadly.

“I know baby,” Tony croons softly. “I have you.” He finishes untying his work. When all that is left are the beautiful golden threads, woven loosely now, in Peter’s hair, he lifts the boy in his arms. He carries Peter over to the sofa and sits, pulling him into his lap, holding him close, gently caressing his body. His fingers work over the formerly bound muscles, massaging.

Peter nestles into the crook of Tony’s neck for a long time, feeling his warmth, breathing in his scent. Shudders work through him and he clings tighter to the solidness of Tony’s body. He flew so high above the ocean. Wrapped in the ropes that held him to Tony, no matter how far away he went. Tony surrounded him.

Kissing Peter lightly, Tony brings him back. He starts to undo the last threads that held his beautiful boy.

“Can I wear them a little longer?” Peter asks. “I want to see the sun still in my hair.”

Tony nuzzled his face against the side of Peter’s head. “Of course, baby. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” A long stretch of just holding Peter slips by. “Was that okay this time?”

“Oh god Tony. It was perfect,” Peter sighed.

“Mmm. I’m glad.” He smiled and put a kiss on Peter’s temple. “I built a frame. I want to take you down to the beach below the cliff.”

“Oh!” The thought sends another shudder through Peter. “We can do that?” He lifts his face out of Tony’s neck and looks at the man, excitement in his eyes.

“Yes, now that I know the pattern will support you, I can actually fly you out over the ocean next time.” He carefully runs his fingers through Peter’s hair and the gold threads in it. “You can watch the sunset and I can see its fire in your hair.” Tony was still overwhelmed by how beautiful Peter had looked. “You can be my Icarus.”

“Will you build me wings? Work them into the design?”

“Anything you want baby,” Tony said tenderly. “You just have to always fly home to me.”

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[mlpdestinyverse]

Destinyverse: The Dazzlings

"You can't turn away. We'll make you want to stay. We will be adored Tell us that you want us We won't be ignored It's time for our reward Now you need us. Come and heed us. Nothing can stop us now!"  _________________

I said it once and I'll say it again; I really love the Dazzlings. It's mainly thanks to these lyrics from their song "Welcome to the Show" that I've developed many inspired ideas behind both the Dazzlings and siren species as a whole. First! Let's get into some siren Destinyverse headcanons before jumping into the history of our last three remaining pure-blooded sirens; Adagio, Sonata, and Aria. Summary Under The Cut!

THE SIRENS

In the world that once was, now known as the Pre-Equestrian era, the Ancient Alicorn of Mischief, Lugh, breathed life into beautiful beasts she named the Sirens. Based upon the pearlescent shores of the Isles of Anthemosa, the sirens were magical creatures of song and sea, with vibrant flowing fins, glimmering iridescent scales, and enchanting voices that were unmatched by anyone. An all-female species, the members of the tribe had their own means of magic-based procreation. Each family of sirens lived under a single alpha matriarch who established peace and order. Sirens were also granted a long lifespan of over 500 years.

Proud and exuberant by nature, sirens loved the sound of their own voices and music became a part of their everyday lives. A siren's song was thought to be an extension of who they were and was considered one of the most important aspects a siren saw in others as well as themselves. The sirens saw great meaning - even vulnerability - in sharing their music and being heard; sirens would sing to bond with others, to calm themselves, to comfort their offspring, or even to capture the attention of a potential mate. Sirens would often join together in harmonies for fun. Especially bonded sirens could be consistently in-sync with one another, dancing and harmonizing perfectly.

Each siren came into existence with a single gem that was designed to not only allow them to concentrate magic into their voices, much like a unicorn casting spells with their horn, but also possessed the ability to draw in and store negative energy, converting it into extra magical power for their personal usage. This ability did not often come into play for a species as self-reliant and isolated as the sirens were at the time. However, it gave the sirens a reason to enjoy toying around with their prey, consisting of various species of fish and sea mammals. They would draw out burst after burst of fear, and once bored or satisfied, would use their magical songs to make their prey willing targets before going in for the kill.

The gems of the sirens varied in color. Gems of similar color between sirens usually signified some sort of family relation.

A siren's voice was magically-laced and nothing less than powerful. Intentionally or not, their music, when gracing the ears of creatures less powerful than them, never seemed to fail in placing said creatures in a trance-like and arguably relaxing state. While these effects wore off some time after a song ended, this ability - in addition to their proficiency in charm spells - aided the sirens in their hunts and any battles against threats. But the bigger the target, and the more targets present, the more voices and power they'd need to entrance or have their charm spells take effect

Unfortunately, the voices of the sirens did not fall only on the ears of the local wildlife or their own kind. Seafaring ponies and other traveling creatures of flight would venture into proximity of the sirens' territory and unintentionally hear their captivating voices from afar. In their hypnotized states, the accidental victims would then mindlessly draw closer, only to fall to the waters and drown or cause shipwrecks by crashing into the cliffs and rocks of Anthemosa. The sirens were blamed as a result, accused of purposely luring in innocent sailors and travelers. In the aftermath of such annoying and offensive ill-rumors, the sirens stuck even closer to their isles. From then on they chose to scare off any approaching ships or travelers if it meant keeping their peace intact in the face of such egotism.

The sirens did, however, have an allyship with another tribe. They are currently remembered as the Merponies (not to be confused with the Seaponies of the Hippogriffs), created by and once under the leadership of the Ancient Alicorn of Seas, Léon (also noted in history as "King Leo"). The sirens and merponies often came together to hold peaceful and joyous feasts. It allowed the sirens to happily flourish their voices, a fun and relaxing experience the merponies greatly enjoyed. They would even exchange songs, and while the sirens held their own voices in high regard, they respected and could even appreciate the songs of their allies, even if said songs could not quite compare.

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The Three Sisters

Adagio was the firstborn child of her family within the Siren tribe. Bright-eyed, strong-willed, and assertive even at her young age, the amber siren had a strong voice and an inner strength that had many fondly believing that she had a chance at becoming a future tribe leader in her own right. Such compliments did not fail to get to Adagio's head, and she took great joy in showing off her grand leadership skills every chance she was given, especially when her tribe leader or mothers were watching.

In the following years (granted, a single siren year can equate to mere months for the average pony), Adagio was given a younger sister in Aria. An outspoken and stubborn child, the violet-colored siren (not-so-secretly) envied the praise Adagio received. She aimed to receive the same respect and attention as her older sister, often following her around and even challenging her to scuffles. Unfortunately for Aria, Adagio's vocal prowess and slightly larger size would always best her. Despite how much she huffed in the aftermath, what was secret was Aria's silent and genuine admiration of her sister's abilities and persona....though she'd rather die before she ever admitted that to her. She'd never hear the end of it.

A bit more unexpectedly came their youngest sister Sonata, a cerulean siren who...while talkative and lively, proved to be tremendously inattentive and "slower" than the average fish. This lead to some teasing from other young sirens, but said teasing always ended up short-lived. Both Adagio and Aria would rush in to scare off the bullies (and almost bite off a bit of fin). Though their younger sister annoyed them more times than not, and having her around was a bit of a drag, even they could recognize Sonata's struggle to fit in. Adagio - giving a stink eye to any judging face that looked at her sister the wrong way - settled on simply having Sonata stay close and tag along with her and Aria from then on. Aria begrudgingly followed her decision, despite how much she and Sonata would squabble over the smallest of things. An irritated growl or a warning nip from Adagio would usually put them back in line.

As young adolescents with full freedom to roam around the isles, Adagio in her cockiness pondered over the idea of her and her sisters experiencing a hunting expedition all by themselves. Because surely, utilizing the bit of energy they had collected during the last hunt they shadowed, she and her sisters could test themselves and prove their capabilities to the older sirens. Yes, Aria could prove herself. Sonata could prove herself. But well, more importantly, Adagio could prove herself far more than she already had. They could even turn it into a game and see who could catch the most fish! It wasn't hard to convince her sisters and have them join her in swimming beyond the reefs, further than they were normally allowed. And Adagio never foresaw the impact that single choice would make.

Relentlessly churning waters, dark skies beyond the surface, and a quickly clouding sea caught the sisters off guard in the middle of their fruitful hunt. Losing their sense of direction and unable to swim to the seemingly storming, thunderous surface, the frightened young sirens quickly took shelter deeper within the ocean, hiding in the first underwater cave they could find. They waited out what appeared to be a catastrophic storm. Unbeknownst to them, a destructive event in pre-Equestrian history, The Cataclysm, had begun.

When nearly a full day had passed and the faintest traces of sunlight once again shone through the waves, the three sisters quickly made their way back home, the hunt forgotten. But upon their return, devastation greeted them. A half-destroyed home, with dead plant matter, collapsed cliffsides, and scorched sands that once shone like pearls in the sunlight. And no sign of any other siren, aside from the charred remains of scales. The sisters frantically searched around the isles to no avail. And with no other leads or any other place to go, they waited. And waited. For years they waited, with the tiniest sliver of hope that even one other siren had escaped the destruction of whatever had occurred. Maybe the others were afraid of returning. Or perhaps the sisters were afraid of leaving.

Prey became hard to come by. Though their meager hunting skills landed them a few small meals, the destruction had chased away or killed off most of the surrounding ecosystem. When food became far too scarce for Adagio and her sisters to thrive, the amber siren had to make a terrible decision. But a necessary decision. After their long, hopeless wait, Adagio coaxed her sisters away from their home. What was once home. With heavy hearts and survival being at the forefront of Adagio's mind, the three swam off to unchartered waters. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outcasts

Through the years, Adagio, Aria, and Sonata traversed the expansive seas. While they kept an eye out for other sirens, the merponies their tribe once called friends, as well as their own Alicorn Goddess, not a single trace could be found. It was also difficult to seek out answers when other inhabitants of the sea insistently avoided their path. Whether it was lingering fear in the aftermath of the destruction or due to the sirens' reputation of being vicious hunters, nothing brought assurance to the sisters. The seas felt unwelcoming and the tides brought more threatening predators than their level of magic had them prepared for. The young sirens found themselves constantly on the move, as any potential territory was either already inhabited or was far too dangerous for the sirens to settle down in. Besides... nothing compared to the paradise that had once been Anthemosa. Their calls and weak melodies left unanswered, the silent and empty sea was only a reminder of how truly alone they had become.

It was hardest to get Sonata to grasp the gravity of their situation. "Where did everyone go?" she'd ask over and over again. "I want to go home." While frustrated, hearing her sister's genuine confusion and fear stung Adagio deep. Aria's sporadic, angry outbursts towards Sonata - just barely masking her slowly dawning realization and grief - did nothing to ease the sickness in Adagio's stomach. Because while she fought to ignore the prodding in her mind, she knew. It was her fault they hadn't been there when the others fell. And no amount of denial after so many years erased the truth; they were really all that was left of their kind.

They were lost and without purpose. Despite her aggressive leadership and strong front, survivor's guilt consumed Adagio with each passing day. Yet she refused to let her own anguish and hopelessness take her. And as the oldest remaining siren, she wouldn't let the weight of reality take her sisters either. Resilient and determined, Adagio silently planned their next course of action. That's when it came to her: after centuries of their tribe's isolation, maybe it was finally time to leave the seas and integrate their kind with the land dwellers. Why stay put in the silent ocean, already unwanted and forgotten? They had so much culture and history and, most of all, the power and pride of their songs to share.

Adagio, ready for the next leg of their journey and with her head held high, lead her more hesitant sisters onto the shores of Equestria. The curious sights of pastures and towns and land critters overwhelmed them, but the sisters pushed on until they came face-to-face with ponykind. The ponies were a mix of awe-stricken and cautious in their presence. There before them hovered three beautiful yet intimidating creatures, easily towering them in size. With a little time, the sirens' confident demeanors (as well as their relatable sibling banter) drew out curiosity from friendlier folk.

The sisters learned much in the short period of time they spent simply testing the waters: a mysterious storm or entity or force that had been the cause of what they called "The Cataclysm"; the disappearance of the ancient Alicorns; the founding of Equestria, and the peaceful union of the three pony tribes in the past decade. While no amount of information brought the sisters closure to what had transpired, the sirens at the very least felt the promising beginnings of a newfound allyship with the ponies. The very idea of having camaraderie again brought the three a sense of relief and comfort they hadn't felt in the ten years they had wandered alone. And as it turned out, ponies enjoyed songs! Eager to extend themselves and reveal their incredible talents, the sisters offered their heartfelt melodies to their company. As was the natural effect of their voices, the ponies were placed in a relaxed, trance-like state as they blissfully gave Adagio, Sonata, and Aria their full attention. As far as the sisters understood, they were giving an unforgettable, soothing performance deserving of praise. However, those outside of earshot - spectators who recognized the familiar signs they had heard of so long ago of hypnotic voices and doe-eyed stares- went into an absolute frenzy.

The old tales of "ocean beasts with magical voices, coaxing all who listened to their doom" resurfaced at once. And after witnessing it before their very eyes, the villagers turned on the siren sisters. The three were accused of using sinister charms to trick and turn the townsfolk into their next meal. The ponies shouted that their songs were evil, and fearfully grabbed their weapons to chase off the "beasts". Negativity surrounded the sisters, and as designed, all three sirens' gems drew the townsfolk's emotions in. But the spare magical energy did not come with satisfaction or pride. In all their hopeless years, this was never the energy or the mortifying response their longing hearts had wished for. With little time to defend themselves, they were spat at and bombarded with weapons until they were driven out. Though not before being told to leave their land and never return.

Word of the sirens and their "dark magic" spread like wildfire through various towns of eastern Equestria. Rumors of their dangerous intent, rumors that they could very well be the remaining monstrosities of the defeated Father of Monsters, Grogar. No matter where they went, the moment they were recognized, ponies screamed in fear and refused to listen to their voices. Some struggled to cover their ears as they ran away. Others resorted to attacking them on sight in their terror. And some pondered the pretty coins the sirens' glimmering scales could earn them. Adagio, Sonata, and Aria were forced to go into hiding, afraid to even appear in broad daylight less they be threatened or hunted.

The sisters were left humiliated. To have their own voices slandered and rejected was a wounding insult that cut them deeper than anypony could ever understand. With their chances of escaping their isolation dashed, even Adagio was left sickened and whole-heartedly devastated. Sonata angrily questioned how anyone could hate them when all they had done was sing the best songs ponykind would ever hear. It was what they did. It was who they were....right? Aria snarled that they were the worst kind of hypocrite. Glorifying the unity of their own people, then sneering at their attempts to live amongst them? Because their gifts were different and undeserving of their respect? How was that fair? And for the first time, the three sisters were all of the same mind as resentment and animosity took over their thoughts.

Sure, they could have retreated back to the desolate seas and their ruined home. But where was the satisfaction in that? With newfound purpose, Adagio, Sonata, and Aria handled their vengeful hearts as best as three hurt, bitter children could: first, revenge was to be sought. Adagio recalled the stories of newfound peace within Equestria, as well as the negative energy still swirling within their gems. A perfect idea developed within the leader's calculating mind. It started with locating and lingering near both the dragons of the Dragon Lands and the griffons of Griffonstone. Aggressive and distrustful creatures by nature, just as she had overheard, they were a breeding ground for negative energy. Siphoning the energy unnoticed was a challenge, but a worthwhile one as they harnessed just enough for their plan. Next? Turn ponykind against one another

Knowing the strength that came from companionship, the very thing ponykind had refused them, Adagio felt it was only poetic justice to destroy the peace such arrogant creatures had so proudly bragged about. And it worked. Twisting their charm from a spell of compliance to one of bitterness and spite had been effortless when those very emotions were churning within the sisters.

Having never explored the depths of their abilities before, it was surprising, to say the least. A single charm on a town created a constant feedback of negative energy for their magic reserves. Within mere hours, the effect and range of their voices had nearly doubled what it was. Jumping from town to town, creating and absorbing disharmony where they went, the siren's voices only grew stronger. Their notes reached further. And further. And further still. To think the extent of their kind's power was far greater than anything the sisters could have ever imagined. What they were discovering was a potential never before reached by any siren before them. The surge of their growing power was so new, and the sheer child's play of it all exhilarated the three. So why stop? Just how powerful could they get with every new town they conquered?

Adagio realized at the rate they were going, all of Equestria could become their stage. It could become their farmland, with ponykind as their mindless, adoring cattle that they could siphon all the energy they needed to maintain their power and control. They honestly had it coming. If they weren't willing to bask in the magnificence of their voices, then they might as well feed their voices instead. And with their newfound resources, in time...they could attempt to restore their beloved Anthemosa. Power. Respect. Recognition. Rebuilding their beautiful home. This was fair restitution for all of the unjust pain inflicted upon them since the Cataclysm.

Adagio's goals all became short-lived when an attack on one particular village lead to their downfall. As history recalls, the young unicorn Stygian had managed to escape the sirens' control over his village. To save his fellow villagers, the colt gathered the heroes of ancient Equestria, lead by the legendary wizard Starswirl the Bearded. And ignoring Stygian's suggestion that the sirens could be reasoned with, the Pillars of Old Equestria followed Starswirl's plan and worked together to engage the sirens. Starswirl believed that using his magic to banish them to a world without magic was the only possible solution against such a treacherous threat. Little did he know that his theory would only come to endanger another universe's inhabitants. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rise and Fall of the Dazzlings

Starswirl's magic did not only transfer Adagio, Sonata, and Aria to the universe of humankind. The sisters were transported across time, nearly 900 years into the future. Finding themselves in a world without magic, a world of civilizations and advancements beyond their understanding, the sirens were dumbfounded. They were forced into forms completely unfamiliar to them, small and uncomfortable and worst of all, vulnerable. How were they supposed to protect themselves with barely visible fangs and without their powerful hooves? The only relief they had in their dismaying situation were their three gems, separate from their bodies but intact. It was uncertain just how much of their natural magic had been transferred to their jewels in order to function, but at the very least, Adagio could sense that magic still resided within.

In the following near-century of their lives, the sirens continued to draw in as much negative energy as humanly possible. To get by, their voices had to be strong enough to control others into providing what they needed, whether it be shelter, food, or other necessities and comforts. As a result, Adagio grew crueler, more hardened, and mastered the art of manipulation with her sisters closely following her lead. The sirens quietly sowed seeds of conflict where they could, but there was only so much power they could retrieve when the energy in the human world differed significantly from Equestria's. And who else to blame but the pathetic, insignificant lives of the world's magicless inhabitants.

The rate of drawing in and expending energy left the sisters with just enough magic for their charms to affect a small radius of people for a given period of time. Their magic won them enough favor to gain their basic comforts, but with frequently depleting reserves of magic, they experienced far too many close calls with having their spells break. The moment anyone seemed to catch on to their act, the three would flee town, jumping from one area to the next. Through the years they even had to keep track of the human world's development with music, altering their songs as necessary as not to arouse suspicion from potential prey. Living in the shadows day by day, unnoticed and unappreciated by those around them, there was little hope for their miserable circumstances...until one fateful day when Equestrian magic appeared in Canterlot City.

Knowing full well that targeting Equestrian magic would restore their full power, once more Adagio's mind sparked with excitement and ambition. Understanding the magic's origin or why seven teenage girls possessed its essence didn't even matter at that moment. Once they had all the magic they needed, no longer would they have to bend to the laws of the world. The world would bend to them. They'd live comfortably, freely, and no longer in hiding. Once again their music would reach far and they would be adored for the powerful beings they really were. Never ignored, nor rejected. The world would know their names again. Better yet, with no hope of returning to Equestria, they could simply shape the world itself into the home they wanted. They'd rid it of its broken, suppressive systems and live as they saw fit. Their suffering and patience would finally be rewarded.

But it was not to be. The alumni of Canterlot High remember the tale of Twilight Sparkle, Sunset Shimmer, and their friends rising up to defeat "The Dazzlings", ending their plans forever with the destruction of their magical gems. As far as they understand, the sirens became "harmless teenaged girls" in the aftermath, never to be seen again. Yet no one knows of the fate of the Dazzlings, or how those great heroes had ruined them.

In their hurry to escape in their defeat, only Adagio had been able to retrieve the shattered remains of her gem. Adagio, Sonata, and Aria lost everything the moment their ability to use magic had been ripped away. Whatever sway they had that granted them temporary shelter, whatever influence that helped keep them fed each day, and the pride of their beautiful singing voices that made them who they were? All gone in but a single night. Homeless and left to fend for themselves in a world they never belonged in, the earth-shattering reality was near numbing for Adagio. For the first time, she was lost. All hope was lost. Unable to sing, they weren't even sirens anymore. She would have been willing to lose anything else. Anything but the remainder of their identities. They had been reduced to nothing, all under her watch and lead.

Aria and Sonata anxiously turned to Adagio for some hope, some sign that they would figure things out as they always did. Because even if their older sister could be harsh and bossy, Adagio always had a plan. She always kept things together and she would always make things work out one way or another. Instead, there were no confident decisions. No snarky quips or half-hearted insults. Adagio moved about aimlessly, aloof and apathetic. It was like her very will had been shattered along with the gem shards she still held close. Her sisters tried to snap her out of it; Sonata listing off her worried questions, Aria tensely yelling anything that could to get a reaction out of her. Adagio remained despondent. And for the first time, while Adagio stayed fixated on her broken gem, Sonata and Aria were forced to act on their own.

Aria hunted down abandoned areas they could use for shelter. Sonata worked on finding or winning over food, which she took far more seriously than Aria would ever expect. Watching her sisters fumble about eventually drew Adagio out of her grief-filled daze. The first time their older sister abruptly left them behind without a word, Aria and Sonata sincerely questioned if Adagio had outright abandoned them. Thankfully Adagio had simply decided to pull her own weight, adding her own provisions to their stockpile. While Adagio had returned to giving curt instructions for their survival, she began heading off alone on her own excursions, unannounced and without any explanations on her plans.  Even when questioned, there was very little Adagio was willing to share when it came to what was going through her headspace. And with how little Adagio was speaking in the first place, there was no telling if she was really as 'okay' as she acted.

Due to sheer luck or mercy, and though it took time, Adagio was able to find a means of piecing her broken gem back together. While its power proved weaker than what it once was, it still possessed enough magical essence to draw in negativity and channel spells. There was an immense wave of relief in recovering her singing voice, and in the following years, Adagio swore to never take it for granted. With hard work and the help of a spell or three, Adagio swallowed her pride and was able to land a job at a company. She aggressively worked (and charmed) her way up through the ranks until she became a corporate executive. While she found her work to be exhausting and suffocating, it was the one position that provided her any kind of seat of power in her life. Not only did it pay well, but it allowed her to intimidate her underlings and collect their negativity gradually.

Adagio insisted on being the financial supporter of the family, as long as her sisters continued to provide in their own way. With the amount of free time on her hands, Aria developed an interest in books and eventually found a job at a library. While her favorite part of her work is the peace and silence away from home, she also takes pleasure in telling others to shut up whenever they get too noisy. Sonata...went from job to job without anything really sticking, to put it lightly. So Adagio tasked her with at least keeping their condominium organized and throwing together dinner as long as her recipe didn't risk setting the building on fire. Although there were a few near-incidents, Sonata (somehow) managed.

And as the years went by, that's when Adagio realized...they were aging. For decades the three sirens, with their long life spans, had not once experienced any change to their appearance. But now, the signs of growth, of age lines, were beginning to show. One way or another, their very gems had possessed the magic that had given them their expansive life spans. Perhaps that was always the case. Or perhaps it happened the moment they were physically separated from their jewels. But with their gems shattered, or cracked in Adagio's case, the sirens now faced newfound mortality, a regulated lifespan equal to that of a human's. And in this realization, more horrific thoughts followed.

Adagio, Sonata, and Aria would be forgotten with time, as three average humans who lived simple, meaningless human lives. They'd disappear with little trace of who they truly were. And the siren name would die with them. Their people never existed in this world. The sirens no longer exist in Equestria, either. Their kind's legacy would be left to collect dust, if not erased from history entirely. Adagio realized then that she hadn't just failed her sisters in leading them. She had failed every siren that had come before her, who once thought she'd lead the sirens to a greater future. And that was something her broken pride could not stand for.

In Sonata's and Aria's eyes, Adagio's spontaneous decision to have a child was abrupt and mind-boggling. Adagio - who loathed humans and being "human" more than anyone - was now prepared to have a child with one. Well, sort of. The only tidbit of information Adagio willingly gave them was her plan for artificial conception. Which okay, made far more sense. But even then, they couldn't even begin to understand what had brought on the choice. And Adagio, still intent on keeping her thoughts and weak emotions to herself, decided to keep it that way.

Thus lead to the creation of Forte Fermata, Adagio's half-human, half-siren daughter, and the first small spark of hope Adagio never knew she needed in her life. Adagio left Sonata and Aria to act as Forte's caretakers whenever she became busy with work. It took no time for Sonata to also fall in love with Forte, eager to play with what felt like a new baby sister. Meanwhile, Aria still needed time to really process the fact that Adagio wanted and had a kid, but once they were through Forte's crying-and-diaper-changing years, she decided Forte wasn't all that bad. Better than Adagio's snide attitude and Sonata's stupidity, at least. The sirens are an odd family of tired souls, and maybe not the best at being loving and kind to one another. But they are loyal to each other, and they do their best to make the most of the time they have left.

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EXTRA

While Adagio remains reserved and strict around her sisters, unwilling to show them her weakness again, only Forte has possessed the power to pull down her mother's walls and reveal her true exhaustion and vulnerability. She is the focus of every bit of Adagio's pride and adoration, and in the older siren's eyes, she is everything Adagio is and more.

Adagio, Aria, and Sonata do deeply care about one another. It's why they've stuck together through everything and why no amount of frustration or exasperation has led them to even consider leaving the other two behind. But harsh conditions through the years, along with their pride, made it difficult for them to know just how to express that care. That especially became the case once they lost their ability to sing together and share that special connection as sirens. Secretly, Adagio has reflected on this, silently questioning why Aria and Sonata still follow her after everything she's lead them through. Multiple times she's imagined a day where they'll decide they're better off on their own and will leave. It's a day she's mentally prepared herself for through the years and has contributed to her aloofness. Aria at least manages to catch onto her older sister's thoughts and quells them in her typical indirect, stubborn way.

Aria may step out of line at times to challenge Adagio's leadership and act like she thinks her sister's ideas are dumb. But really, that jealousy she harbored for Adagio when they were kids never quite went away. In reality, if she can't be considered a leader like Adagio (not that Adagio would give her a chance to try), a part of her wants Adagio to at least respect her as a voice worth hearing. She only really makes fun of Adagio when she wants some form of acknowledgment as Adagio's right-hand-woman, consistently one step behind her sister and quick to follow her lead. But she knows Adagio is too full of herself to give her that level of recognition. It's the one thing she truly hates about the older siren.

Sonata may not the brightest, but on rare occasions, she can come up with something genuinely helpful. Such moments honestly impress Adagio and Aria, an example being the cute little crochet pouch necklace she threw together for Forte to freely carry her gem in.

Since the siren sisters were far away from Equestria during the clash of the three pony tribes, they had missed seeing the lost, restless spirits of their siren sisters, mindlessly drawn in by the negativity that once empowered them and continued to do so in death. Equestrian history remembers them as the dreaded Wendigos, now asleep during Equestria's relative era of peace.

______________________________________________________

TLDR: Local homeless and rejected teenaged orphans get their revenge and then try to take over the world twice, only to fail without a speck of closure in sight. This took me so long to write out...this was a case of knowing exactly what I wanted to write, but the words refused to come together the way I needed them to. OTL But I'm soso happy to reveal this story, as well as some pretty big puzzle pieces of Destinyverse lore!! Hope you enjoy. <3 These siren designs of the Dazzlings are based on the designs shown on the "My Little Pony: Legends of Magic" Issue 7 cover! Like dude, they're really pretty...!!

[lauras-collection]

thanks for tagging me @thirsttrapholland and @the-crazy-fanfictionist 💕

Rules: tag 9 people you’d like to get to know better

Top 3 ships:

Stydia - Stiles and Lydia - Teen Wolf

Eric and Adam - Sex Education

Gunnar and Scarlett - Nashville

Lipstick or chapstick: I can’t live without chapstick. But I do occasionally wear lipstick (mostly when I go out)

Last song: Lover of Mine - 5 Seconds of Summer

Last Movie: Ant-Man

Reading: I just finished The Last Days of Us by Beck Nicholas

what food are you craving: pizza 🍕

tagging: @spidermanlondon @tloveswriting @mendespideys @heyhihellowhatsup0 @parkerpeter24 @hypnotized-so-mesmerized @averyfosterthoughts @screamholland (feel free to ignore)

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

Grandthorki Day excerpt

...because for various reasons I just couldn’t get my shit together to have the actual fic finished, so here’s...well, the biggest chunks of it, probably. I really hope I can get the actual thing done soon, although knowing me, WHO REALLY KNOWS, I probably only have like...one and a half actual scenes left to write but a lot more transitions and stuff to turn the disconnected chunks into something coherent and that part is hard. but hey, at least this is a longish, whumpy excerpt.

this takes place probably a week or less after my previous fic for @grandthorkiday, which anyone interested in this should definitely read first, both because of context and because, well, the warnings are all basically the same. but in case for some reason you didn’t do that, the most important thing thing to know is that this is definitely non-con and also fucked up in general probably (and not really work-safe). also nonconsensual drug use, which is partly why I’m tagging it under Whumptober, given that the day’s prompt is “laced drink”. (honestly it hits a lot of the other prompts too, but too many tags gets a little ridiculous.)  

The music pulses beneath him like a heartbeat, and all the lights follow the same rhythm. It isn’t as overpowering as he’d imagined the Grandmaster’s parties to be, on the rare occasions when he’s thought about it, but it’s…hypnotic.

It takes him a moment to realize that the guests are also not quite what he expected, although at first he can’t say why—and then he almost stumbles, a jolt snapping through him like the shock of an obedience disk, because standing at the bar are two Chitauri. He’s never seen one outside of the invasion of New York, but their profile is unmistakable.

He takes a closer look at the guests, his unease growing. A few A’askavariians are here, as well as members of a few other tentacled races Thor doesn’t recognize.There, a Dark Elf, or someone of another race dressed to look like one. Another, considerably larger, with a strong resemblance to the Kursed who nearly killed Loki. Two races he doesn’t recognize, except for how much they look like slightly smaller variations of Jotnar and Fire Giants. The resemblance seems to be mostly superficial with the former, given the lack of frost anywhere around them, but the other leaves scorch marks wherever he goes, and Thor can feel the heat radiating off him from several paces away. Across the room—

Thor pulls up short, his entire body going cold and then nauseatingly hot. The hulking armored figure cannot be Thanos, and yet—

No. It is not Thanos, probably not even a Titan, but he looks so like him that he must be a related race, and the armor is nearly identical.

Thor looks around for the Grandmaster, his stomach churning. Some of the guests could be simple coincidences, given the vast array of species that wind up on Sakaar, but not all of them, and not the one that looks so much like Thanos. It has to be deliberate, and it cannot possibly mean anything good.

... Loki is on his knees, stark naked and clearly drugged, hands bound behind his back and chained to the floor. But none of that is the worst, because—just as the Grandmaster said—one of the guests has already gotten started. The guest looks like a male A’askavariian crossbreed of some kind, with abrasive-looking skin and several more tentacles, and most of them are wound tightly around Loki’s body, keeping him pressed close. One is stroking his thigh as if teasing, but far worse is the one curled around Loki’s neck.

There’s no reason for a random guest to know, in theory—unless the Grandmaster told them, which is possible, and even from here he can see Loki trying to shake his head, trying to say no, stop, terror breaking through the drugged haze of lust in his eyes. The other guest just pulls him closer.

“Can I trust you to behave, Sparkles?” the Grandmaster says. “I don’t want any incidents. Things just…ugh, it’s just such a downer when parties get messy like that. The bad kind of messy, I mean, they’re always the fun kind of messy.”

“Yes,” Thor says. “I swear.”

At least the Grandmaster said nothing about threats. He strides up to his brother, fists clenched and lightning crackling across his skin. “I will only say this once,” he says, pinning the other guest with a deadly glare. “Let him go. Now.”

The guest opens his mouth to snap something back, takes a better look at Thor’s expression, and unwinds his limbs so hastily that Loki almost collapses. Thor catches him by the shoulders, unable to suppress a wince at the fever-like heat of Loki’s skin. His pupils are huge, the green of his irises almost invisible. Sweat beads his forehead.

“What did he give you?” Thor asks, ignoring the other guest as he slinks off to the bar.

Loki shakes his head; shakes it again, wincing. “Don’t—don’t know. It was a drink. ‘m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Thor says quickly. It hardly matters, anyway; knowing exactly what’s in Loki’s system won’t help if Thor has no way to counteract it.

“He said. I was—too wound up. Needed to have fun.” Loki blinks, his eyes not quite focusing on Thor’s face. “Said—he was making sure I would have a good time. You understand?”

“Yes,” Thor says. “I think—” Norns, there aren’t words for how much he doesn’t want to talk about this, much less actually go further. “I think he gave you something so you can keep coming, and something else that will make you sick if you don’t. And your options are apparently…anyone here who feels like it, or…me.”

Loki blanches. “I can—I can handle it. Did before. You don’t—have to—”

“Don’t think about me,” Thor says. “It’s—it’s fine. I made this deal and got you into this position, so—if I can help, I want to. What do you want?”

Loki shudders, head bowed and eyes squeezed shut. “You. I’m, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, it’s what he wants, but—he chose special guests and I don’t—”

“Shhh, it’s all right,” Thor says quickly. “I know. I saw them. It’s all right. None of this is your fault.”

Loki makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. “It is. All my fault. All of it. If I hadn’t been so stupid—”

“Brother…”

“You don’t know,” Loki says. “You think you know but you don’t, how stupid and—and pathetic—” He shudders again, hard enough to make the chain rattle. “If I’d left the Tesseract on Asgard—he would’ve claimed it but not on our ship, not by killing so many—I didn’t know, I thought I was keeping it from him but I was a fool, and even before that—if I’d said something, or, or made him kill me before I could break—” He raises his head, eyes red-rimmed and burning with drugged intensity. “Did you know, Odin told me I should have died as an infant? ‘Your birthright was to die, cast out on a frozen rock,’ that’s what he said, and I hated him for it even as finally hearing some honesty from him was a relief, but he was right, Thor, he was right.”

This conversation, or something very similar, is one they’ve needed to have for a long time, and Thor is hard-pressed to think of a worse possible time for it. A small part of him is tempted to let Loki talk, because the conversation truly does need to happen and a fully sober Loki might well refuse to start, but he dismisses the idea almost before it’s formed. Even if Loki forgave him for it, Thor isn’t sure he could forgive himself. “No,” he says firmly. “Loki, listen to me, we can—we can talk about this later, all right?”

... Loki is already shaking, but when his shoulders start to draw up tighter and lines of strain deepen around his eyes, Thor realizes another drug has kicked in. “Should I—”

“It’s—nnn.” Loki shakes his head, grimacing. “Not that bad.”

Thor finds this profoundly unlikely but refrains from saying so. One of the few things that would make this situation worse, after all, would be to take away any of the few choices Loki has left. He waits, one hand on Loki’s shoulder and the other digging crescents into his own palm, as Loki’s breathing grows increasingly ragged. “Just—let me know when and I’ll do it,” he says, and mostly manages to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Whatever you want, truly—”

Loki’s body jerks against the chains, his eyes widening. “Thor,” he gasps, “I can’t—” and the rest is lost as his inhalation thins to almost nothing. He tries again and manages only a faint wheeze, and with a nauseating jolt of terror Thor realizes he’s not having a panic attack but truly suffocating.

His own heart seems to stop. All he can think is that the Grandmaster must have taken it back now that he’s had his fun, no matter that they’ve done whatever he wants. Thor turns a wild gaze on the other party guests. He will find the Grandmaster and beg, he’ll do whatever it takes, he has no idea what else the despot could possibly want but he’ll do anything to keep Loki alive—

The Grandmaster is halfway across the room, chatting with some of his guests, but he turns as if drawn by Thor’s desperation—or as if he was expecting this and just wants to watch. He smiles, waves, and twirls his hand in a gesture that Thor has no idea how to interpret, only able to stare in panicked incomprehension. In response, the Grandmaster rolls his eyes, points to Thor, and makes an exaggerated jerking-off motion.

The drugs. It’s the fucking drugs. This is what he meant, not just pain but the one thing he now knows will terrify them both into cooperation. Loki is still wheezing, his breaths growing ever thinner. Without letting himself think, Thor spits in his own palm and takes Loki in hand.

... Loki slumps against him, trembling and exhausted. His breathing is ragged but he’s breathing again, fully and more or less cleanly, and Thor’s lungs expand in the first easy breath he’s managed since Loki started to choke.“I’m sorry,” Thor says. “Norns, Loki, I’m so sorry, are you all right?” It’s a ridiculous question but Loki nods anyway, still too breathless to speak. His erection has barely flagged, and Thor’s heart sinks. This isn’t going to stop—he doesn’t know if the drugs will even give them a break.            

“Okay,” he says, mostly to himself. Time to stop reacting and deal with the situation as it is, no matter how awful. He catches the attention of a passing servitor and requests lubricant, lots of it, and something to drink that might actually help with hydration. The first is easy, because it’s that kind of party. The second has to be specially ordered from the kitchens, apparently, because…Sakaar.            

“I’m sorry,” Loki says when the servitor leaves. “You shouldn’t have to—I’m sorry.”            

Thor is visited with the sudden, hysterical urge to laugh. As if the night won’t be bad enough already, they’re going to spend it wracked with guilt and constantly apologizing to each other, both utterly unable to accept reassurances. 

... Loki doubles over with a sound like he’s been punched. Thor starts to reach for him and forces himself to stop. “Should I—”            

“Yes,” Loki says, his voice fracturing.            

Thor squirts a generous amount of lube into his palm and gets to work, trying not to think about the way Loki flinches at the first touch, how rigidly he holds himself even as he can’t seem to stop trembling. And then the shakes worsen as he starts to choke, again, eyes widening with panic.            

Thor swears, his own hands shaking as he increases his efforts. Of course the Grandmaster would make sure the drugs make this as bad as possible. Of fucking course. Grimly, he forces himself to focus on doing this right, as much as he would rather think about anything else, but it’s impossible to ignore the pained rasp of his little brother fighting for air.            

Loki comes with a ragged gasp, almost collapsing again, and Thor futilely tries to wipe his hand off on the floor while rubbing Loki’s back with the other. There’s probably no point, they’ll both be filthy by the time this is over (if it’s ever over, if this isn’t the Grandmaster’s cheerfully sadistic way of letting Loki die all over again), but he can’t help trying.            

“Fuck,” Loki says between gasps for breath. “Fuck.”            

“I can be faster,” Thor says, a little desperately, although he isn’t sure he can.     

Loki shakes his head, wincing. “Probably…won’t matter. He likes—unpredictable. Well, for everyone else. Not for himself.”

[melmac78]

Another short fan fiction: Why the Hood never kidnapped Gordon again

(This again is courtesy of sentence starters prompts re-blogged by @colonel-jeff-tracy. Due to the sentences being sporadic in the story, the sentences are in bold. Warning: it’s a bit silly, and clearly TAG leaning.)

88888

“Why are you awake?”

The Hood, maniacal megalomaniac, finally had what he wanted.

He had a Thunderbird all of his own, and its operator as well.

That said, he was irritated because one part of the plan kept failing...

His captive choose to blabber on about nothing instead of kindly staying unconscious.

“Why are you awake?” Grumbled the Hood again, looking at his bound captive.

Gordon rolled his eyes and sighed. “Um... could it be that chloroform doesn’t work long on a person?” he said, treating the Hood like a two year old.

“It does in the movies,” grumbled the Hood, wishing he’d taped the annoying aquanaut’s mouth closed. He then turned the Thunderbird to head to his ship.

“I still can’t believe you managed to pin me,” muttered Gordon instead. “Then again, tricking me into thinking you were an unconscious victim would be the only way for you to knock me out.”

In spite of the insult, the Hood smiled in memory. “Yes, seeing you helpless to prevent that was satisfying,” he sneered, driving the sub.

“I’ll show you satisfying,” muttered Gordon under his breath.

Shortly thereafter, the Hood heard the annoying tenor of Gordon’s voice sing an off-key rendition of “The Drunken Sailor.”

That was bad enough, but Gordon kept inserting the Hood’s name in place of sailor.

He tried to ignore it, but after a suggestion he be cooked like fried chicken in Two’s VTOL’s he turned.

“SILENCE!” He roared. “Why didn’t that chloroform keep you unconscious for hours like it’s supposed to...”

“Really? You really do believe the movies instead of real life?” Gordon chuckled darkly. “Anesthetics normally just put you out a couple of minutes.”

“No they don’t,” snorted the Hood.

“Yeah, they do.”

“How would you know imbecile?”

“I’ve had enough surgeries to know the drill: knock out shot and gas, intubate and use more to keep the person under through surgery,” said Gordon, even if he guessed some of that wasn’t accurate.

He then worked on freeing himself. “Bet you don’t know knots either...”

The Hood frowned at the action. “Oh no, you don’t. Time for a hypnotic nap,” said the Hood staring at the younger man.

Gordon saw the Hood’s right eye flicker golden. He stared back and after yawning once or twice, tipped forward, head bowed as he went limp.

The villain nodded, satisfied. “Good, now I can have some peace and quiet from the imbecile,” he quipped as he drove Four quietly.

He was lost in his thought he didn’t expect the next sound.

“Hey Hoodie: You’re going to hit a sunken galleon.”

“What?!” said the Hood turning in shock to see the blond haired man stare back at him.

The Hood started to say something, only to hear a crash when Thunderbird Four hit the wooden walls of said galleon.

“I told you so,” said Gordon, watching the Hood try to free the ship. “Poor baby.”

“I am not a baby,” retorted The Hood.

“I was talking about Four, but if the shoe fits...”

“Never mind,” The villain growled in frustration. “Why are you awake now?”

“Maybe because hypnosis doesn’t work on me,” said Gordon cheekily. “If you wanted to try that you should’ve kidnapped MAX.”

The Hood debated who this Max person was (a robot), what Thunderbird he flew (none) and if he should’ve tried snagging him instead of the aquanaut (MAX would’ve concussed him with an egg whisk first).

He then looked at the monitors. “These screens are giving me a headache,” he muttered. “They keep flickering.”

Gordon seeing the Hood’s frustration, and noting his screen comment, concocted a plan of his own. “Look, you aren’t going to free us anytime soon, but I can,” said Gordon.

The Hood narrowed his eyes. “Why should I let you?” he threatened.

“Well, I know my ‘Bird, and unless you want to run away home crying in a rescue pod, I’m your best bet to keep your prizes,” he said truthfully.

The villain pondered the decision. As tempting as it was to leave in a pod and let Gordon drown, he worked too hard to obtain a Thunderbird to give it up. Plus, as annoying as the man was, he was collateral for the better Thunderbirds.

He chose the obvious route. “Fine, you win. No tricks,” he said, freeing the IR operative.

Gordon smiled, stretching out sore muscles. “No tricks, just treats,” he said, sitting down at the controls.

The Hood sat in the passenger chair, keeping an eye on his captive.

The aquanaut sat down in his chair and took the controls. He noticed the monitors were indeed flickering, a hopeful sign to him.

He maneuvered Four easily out of the wall, and as he worked his way through the rest of the ship, saw to his delight a small Greek letter in the corner of the screen.

He knew what that letter meant, and smelling a faint scent in the air, started to control his breathing as though in the water. Gordon was thankful it had just begun.

Meanwhile, the Hood, nearer a vent, also started to smell things in the air: machine oil, salty and fishy smells, and a faint smell of...

“Strawberries?” muttered the Hood, yawning.

Gordon, not to arouse suspicion, chuckled. “Yeah, strawberries, just all in your little mind,” he said gently. Seeing the Greek letter glow brighter, the aquanaut then quietly inhaled again to hold his breath. *three... two...*

The Hood quirked an eyebrow, annoyed. “Why would your ship smell like...” he started, then hearing a slight gasp from Gordon, realized the truth.

“No...”

As the enemy started to get up, a heavy white gas spewed from a vent in the Thunderbird.

Gordon, knowing that this sleeping gas was faster acting, reached for his gas mask under the chair.

The Hood, seeing the movement, attempted to steal it from Gordon.

But it was too late for the villain.

Gordon punched the already weakened Hood in the solar plexus, forcing him to breathe in more of the gas as the aquanaut put on the mask.

The Hood fell to the ground, still gasping. The last thing he saw as consciousness fled was the aquanaut gather rope to tie him up.

888888

Gordon finished tying up the Hood behind his chair as John’s hologram finally activated.

“EOS, check vitals and level of consciousness on Gordon and the Hood,” ordered John, not seeing anyone in the seat.

He had seen Four way off course and had EOS investigate.

Having found Gordon had been kidnapped, John had EOS start to slowly implement the Omicron contingency when Four stopped. He would’ve preferred taking over the controls, it was deemed a larger risk to his brother.

“The Hood is unconscious....” reported the AI. Looking at Gordon’s vitals, her processors felt a bit of smug satisfaction. ”Gordon however is conscious.”

John looked at Gordon, who had stood up with the gas mask on. “Why are you awake?” said the astronaut, dumbfounded. He expected his brother to be sedated as well, given the helmet was located in the cargo hold.

Gordon however rolled his eyes. “And hello to you too John,” he said, muffled under the mask.

John grinned sheepishly in apology as Gordon turned to the Hood. “Do you have the GDF ready to pick up Sleeping Ugly?” inquired the aquanaut.

“FAB. They are within 15 minutes of your location,” John said, checking the Hood’s vitals. “Keep the gas mask on. The Omicron protocol will remain in effect until they arrive. Can’t have him wake up and start this over again.”

“No kidding,” Gordon dryly said, nodding.

John smiled. “Good work bro,” he said.

“FAB. Good work too John, and you too EOS,” he said, knowing a debrief would be later.

He then looked at the slumbering Hood, smiling. “John, is there a way I can talk to Col. Casey?”

“Certainly, but why?”

Gordon merely grinned, and just the glitter in the aquanaut’s hazel eyes made the middle brother wince.

John, and even EOS, knew that particular look. They were thankful for once their family wasn’t the one about to get pranked.

888888

Needless to say, after waking up in prison from his capture to an endless loop of “The Drunken Sailor” sung off key by Gordon, the Hood vowed to never try and kidnap the aquanaut again for ransom.

He realized it would be fruitless.

In fact, he concluded to his horror, his brothers would probably let him keep Gordon.

[pawtoncake]

Fallen Royalty

Chapter 6

Previous / Next

Ship: past analogical and royality

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: major character death, cheating, pining, depression, murder, murderous intent, rekindling hope, repressed memories being surfaced, heavy patton angst, sword mentions, knocking someone unconscious

Author’s Note Here!: @combine-the-kitchens you had suggested top!patton vibes today, and i got a little out of hand with my royality writings i suppose,,, whoopsie daisies

Tag List: @cinnamonlilac @figurative-falsehood @myinsanity-iscreativity  @sanders-sides-reblog @poppyflowerlesbian666 @hhhhhhhhhhfjaskfsagfhasfgdsakfsa  @deceitfullies101 @whymustibedraggedintofandomhell @haveyourselfamerrylittlebitchmas

Right now was all about revenge.

Patton wished the meeting into action, moving swiftly as he normally would, sparking no alarm. All the guards were on edge anyway; any change with his demeanor and the discovery of Prince Roman’s disappearance, he would be found guilty.

His eyes dragged almost professionally as he nodded along with the words being presented by his royal advisor, Emile.

“This is the stats on how the kingdom will likely pa-” Emile crossed his arms, fixing his glasses flesh to his nose and sighed, “Pat, I know this is the last place you want to be, but could you at least act interested?”

“I can do a good acting Emile,” he gave a small smile for him, seemingly satisfying the advisor.

“Satisfactory Patton, now-” he looked back to the board, drawing on them. Patton couldn’t be less distracted. What if he got out? He was a very smart man… he could be an idiot sometimes, but he was physically smart. And yes in both contexts. It was highly probable, he was loud. What if he hadn’t tied the gag hard enough? What if- Patton was snapped out of his thoughts by a literally snap. Emile looked mildly irritated.

“Patton, I suggest you go rest.”

“But I assure you I am not tired.”

“Not from the looks of you. We can continue this meeting when you are more well rested.”

“But-”

“Patton say one more word, I dare you.”

They exchanged challenging glances for a few seconds, before Patton slumped back in his chair, “fine.”

Once Patton was basically escorted back to his room, it took everything in him to shut and lock his door from Emile’s prying eyes. He was a curious one, he’ll give Emile that one. After he tossed the key to his mirror stand, he took off his sash and shoes, looking rather handsome and not like he had been before.

Patton knocked on the door, earning a whimper from the other side. He shouldn’t have been up yet. Maybe he should have just whacked him a little bit harder. Whatever, all that mattered was his Prince was awake, and ready for mass interrogation during his “nap time.”

Opening the door, Patton saw his head laying back, looking out the only window giving off light. “Hey Roman.”

His head lifts up slowly, almost like he has a headache, and said in a defeated tone, “Patton.”

“You don’t look well.”

“I wonder why.”

“That was grade A sarcasm.”

“You know it lover boy.”

“I can actually knock you out again, don’t test the triggers.”

Roman almost laughed, it was more of a chuckle from the depths of his throat, settling the air like a blanket of warning. Patton moved forward, standing between Roman and the ropes that held him down. He was a good prince in the light, but stick him in the dark, and it’s all fun in his little games. Patton knew that, Roman had not.

He rested each of his arms on either of Roman’s shoulders, holding his hands where Roman could see. His nails were painted blue, they were chipped, but still there. Roman’s curls dropped in front of his eyes as he focused on not moving. Patton sighed, opening his hands up fully. They showed off scars, some paint from frustrated art sessions, and blood. From him, Roman had no idea.

Roman tilted his head to the left a little, looking back half way, deciding his words lightly, “why are you showing me this?”

Patton noted his ability to go along, twisting the ring on his finger. The ring Roman had given him. The promise ring. He had kept it. The bright pale blue stuck out amongst the marks on his hand. There was blood on the diamond, probably from impact with bumping into something.

“Now before you try to overreact, yes, this is your blood, and it’s your ring. This ring hasn’t meant a thing to me in awhile. I debated throwing it out, but figured I could use it for leverage on you.” He pulled it off, holding it in the palm of his left hand.

“You used this to promise me that I would never see you leave. Or cheat, or steal my love. But… you did all of those things to me. Every single one.” His voice grew progressively sadder, dripping with longing for old times, too stubborn to ignore the obvious elephant in the room.

“So I guess to get straight to the point, I am going to wrong you in every way you have me. I will lead you into a false sense of hope for us, then I’ll leave you, cheat on you, and take your heart, in the exact same manner as mine was taken. You won’t be free from me Roman.”

‘Was this some sort of joke?’ Roman thought, brows furrowed in confusion, “but you won’t be able to, I-I know your plans,” he struggled against his bonds to the chair.

“You think you know my plans now, but I haven’t even gotten to the fun part of this…” he moved back around to face Roman and his beautiful hair straight forward.

Patton held his hand with the ring up, before beginning his hypnotic process, “This is our wedding ring. You married me. You promised me to be my forever. We adopted a very handsome young prince, let’s call him Thomas. You are an amazing father to him and a passionate lover to me. Life is good, we are good.” He snapped when he finished.

Roman’s dropped head lifted up in confusion, looking for his surroundings, seeing himself tied up, “love, is this another kink you wanted to try?” Patton smiled widely, “you could say that my prince.”

Roman threw on a smile, “that’s okay dearest, what time is it?”

“Late, I have no clue, we’ve been in here for awhile.” He ran his fingers through Roman’s hair, pushing it back to look at his eyes. He was definitely hypnotized, as his eyes seemed to turn a lot darker. Still beautiful, but much darker.

Patton looked to the clock that was hanging next to the shower a few feet away. It was broken, but it said 4:36. “The clock is broke, so I have no idea.” Roman nodded, “Babe can you undo this, I’m hungry.”

“Oh yeah, of course,” he kissed Roman sweetly, untying him from the front.

Roman stood, almost immediately falling into his arms. “Woah!” He said with a smile, “I guess I really fell for you huh?”

“Oh shut it.” Patton said with a laugh, helping him back to his feet, stable.

“Let’s go get Thomas, then grab something to eat, shall we?”

Patton would have to pay the young boy to go along with this. It wouldn’t be easy, but he could always hypnotise Remy and pay his parents off; he could figure something out. “I can go grab him, you,” he patted and fixed Roman’s tie, pressing a kiss to his lips kindly, “meet me in the kitchen love.” Roman nodded, smiling as he went off to where he was told.

He rang for Thomas to come to his room, pacing as he was taking far longer than normal. A knock sounded on the door moments later; the door flying open with the pretense of an emergency.

“Thomas, you’re little enough to pull this off for me. I need you to pretend to be Roman and I’s child.” He placed his hands around the bedpost.

“I- um- you- what?”

“You cannot utter a word of this to anyone else. Do I have your word?”

“Yes of course your majesty.”

“Good. So, I kidnapped the prince, hypnotised him into thinking we were married with a child, and it worked. But the child is what we were missing, so I want to enlist you. I mean, if you don’t want to I can just hypnotise you as well, but either way I would get what I want.”

The young boy seemed to think, “what do I get out of this?”

“Anything you desire with things pertaining to us as a family. I can make your family higher class than even the highest class, make you royal advisors if need be.” Patton crossed his arms, eyes holding no question or trick. He was dead serious.

“I’ll do it.”

“You will?”

“Yes. I just need one thing, and it’s all I want from this, no matter how long it takes.”

“And that is?”

“I want you to bring back my sister Valerie, from the Land of Lost. She was orphaned there before I was born. I only desire to meet her.”

“I can make that happen.”

“Then I’m in. Entirely. Whatever you need me to do.” Thomas nodded profusely, confidently.

“Great. Right now, he is to join us for lunch down in the dining hall. I told him to go down already.” Patton took his hand, walking towards the door. He opened it, being guided out into a bright hallway, too bright.

He had to shield his eyes as Thomas followed him, eventually dropping his hand to his sides, making fast strides to were his “husband” had fled off to. They had heard singing, meaning either Roman was baking, or watch some movie.

Well I don’t think they considered the possibility that it might have been both. He was already coated in flour and mixing something in a bowl. It looked to be blueberry muffins, Patton’s favorite.

A tiny feeling of guilt creeped up his neck, but he shot it away as quick as it came. “Hey honey!” Roman smiled, grabbing some sugar from a container on the table.

“Hey sweetheart, I see you’re making my favorite… what’s the occasion?”

Roman laughed, “no occasion! Just really wanted to show you how much I love you.”

Patton blushed, looking out of Thomas’ line of vision.

“Thanks babe, I love you too.”

After Thomas had greeted his father and volunteered to help, 3 pans of muffins went in minutes later.

“Babe I can smell them already.” Patton smiled, being dramatic.

“I’m sure you can,” Roman chuckled, him and Thomas taking on the dishes.

Things were taking a turn for a better, to the public eye anyway. The Kings were back in arrangement with a beautiful son to take the throne when they soon came to pass.

Emile was highly skeptical of the sudden switch in them being married, after just seeing him that morning, moping over not having him.

He had noticed light coming from the door to the kitchen, he went to go see if it had been them. When he’d heard the voices he feared would be behind it, he made it his personal mission to find out what the hell Patton was playing at.

Emile knocked calmly, opening the door to a flour covered Thomas, and Patton looking highly guilty of being the culprit. Roman stuck his head up from behind the counter. “He did it!”

Emile placed a smile on, “it does seem like that.”

Patton set the bag down softly, raising his hands as his “son” coerced him into a hug. And as much as Patton didn’t want the flour all over him, he let it happen, finding the moment to be bond like, and far more believable for his advisor and husband.

“Hey Em, can you take Thomas for a few minutes? I need to have a little chit chat with Ro.” Roman wiped a stripe of flower across Thomas’s forehead, causing the younger one to try to run from his father.

“Yeah, of course, I can see if Valerie is able to take him.”

“Excellent thank you.” He put on a blinding grin.

He could see Emilie take a giggly Thomas from Roman, and them leaving as loudly as they came. Patton was almost too distracted to notice the hands that intertwined his and a somewhat worried look. “Love, what’s up?” Roman drew shapes into Patton’s hands absentmindedly, a nervous tick he’d always had.

“I just wanted some us time is all.” Patton hugged him, nuzzling into his neck. Roman blushed a deep red, clearly thinking what Patton had wanted him too. “Love, i want you to sing for me,” he said again, but this time in a slightly more suggestive manor, “my prince, please.”

Roman squeaked, looking back to him, “Pat you’re going to get me all riled up, that’s not fair.” Patton pulled a face to that, “RoRo, I just want to hear you sing, you always tell me the best stories.”

“I always aid you in the best moments too, oh my love, why must you try to seduce me in the kitchen?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Patton shrugged it off.

“Hm, yeah sure.”  Roman said with a smile, kissing Patton’s forehead.

“Don’t want to let those cookies burn now do we?”