#Silver Fin Inquisition

[zoranzeal]

One second Aluhk was there, holding a stare Sidon couldn't bring himself to truly break of his own accord. Some instinct within, quiet but urging, whispered he might see...something, if it held. Something vast.

The next, he'd grinned—such a wild look—and then he was gone, a mile off the ledge and into the pool, leaving Sidon gaping. Incredible.

For what it was worth, he was not so shakable that he was stunned for long; a vigor that could only come from a plunge into the unknown with a worthy companion had taken him, filling his chest, brightening his eyes. He called heartily after him, his voice bounding boldly down the ridges. "Ha! Never a measure half-made, my friend! Never half-made."

The only delay now was to aim—he didn't want to land on Aluhk—before he leaped. He twisted in the air, arched smoothly back like a breaching whale and fell, a gilded creature on sun-colored fins, until he hit the pool a foot away. The surface shattered, fish scattering and water spraying. There was not much room to dive deeper; he curved sharply up before he hit the stony bottom, emerging instead at Aluhk's side.

Sidon grinned at him, his scales shimmering in the light of Aluhk's bright bloom. He meant to say more, something encouraging, perhaps inquisitive—but the intention withered into visible astonishment when he saw the way forward, over a low wall of uneven rock at the pool's rim.

The passage beyond was a void. Not simply because it was dark, with the bright bloom's silver glow only close enough to ward it back from the first few feet onward; there were no rugged imperfections, no recesses, no alcoves. There were no cleaving juts into the walk space, no stalagmites or stalactites, no rough turns. It was simply gaping and smooth, as if sanded and burned until transformed into a refined black glass of some distant shadow palace. It sloped downward, and water from the pool rolled down with it, a perfect and linear current.

It'd be reasonable for anyone to be anxious, unsure or even suspicious about this situation. Blind trust given to a stranger was a surefire way to get oneself hurt. Aluhk couldn't say if he was simply foolish or overconfident. Sidon seemed trustworthy - and the chance he might not be was a detail Aluhk wasn't counting on.

Trident to his throat and the hylian doesn't falter, watching the zora's face with that same calm stoicism. There's not many other interesting places to look. The hylain's dark eyes seem like they could swallow anything caught in their gaze, and maybe there was some truth to that. Aluhk takes in the necklace of bubbles as Sidon explains, thinking better of touching it. It seemed to be no small feat in creating something like this.

"Well you're quite the exceptional individual, aren't you?"

It's a question that expects no answer, as Sidon isn't given the opportunity to answer. With a flash of that mischievous, boyish grin, the hylian immediately turns and dives off the cliff into the water below. Like he couldn't wait to get in the water.

It's cold, but Aluhk is undeterred, coming up to surface to sweep his hair back from his face, calling out.

"I'm sure I can avoid hitting you, but if I must I'll be sure to punch you extra hard!"

[hellas-himself]

ZevWarden Week 2022 Day 5: Promises

This is late! I know! I am sorry. Life happened. Anyway, I really just love writing dad Zevran. We're just gonna assume they had Gianna years after Morrigan had Kieran, but before Inquisition. I hope you enjoy it!

“It’s the greatest promise in the world,” Gianna declared, sitting haughtily in her little chair. Zevran looked at his daughter with amused fondness. Her brown hair was coming loose from the pigtails he’d done on her and she had chocolate all over her mouth. She split the small strawberry cake in half with her little silver butter knife and set one half on Zevran’s small plate and the other on hers. This small tea set had been far too costly for what it was, but it was beautiful and he loved having tea with his princess every afternoon. (Alright, they drank hot chocolate or passion fruit juice.)

“The greatest?” Zevran reached over to clean her mouth with a soft napkin, and Gianna sat still with her big, silvery grey eyes focused on him. 

“Mhm! If you break it, papá, you get stabbed in the eyes!” Gianna smiled so mischievously, all he could do was laugh. 

“And who told you such a thing?”

“Tía Divina! She said secrets and promises are very important to keep… Unless you and mami need to know. She said if I’m really good, I can tell her secrets and she’ll trust me with some too!” 

Ah… Leliana. When she had told Gianna that she worked for the Divine, Gianna had begun to call her ‘Tía Divina’ and the name had stuck. Leliana delighted in it.

“Hm… Your Tía Divina is correct, though I am not sure how mamá will feel about you becoming a spy so young.”

Gianna sighed despondently. 

“But that’s why it’s a secret!”

Zevran chuckled. “Alright, mi cielo. Alright.”

“So, papá, will you do the promise with me?”

He took a sip of his drink. That day’s concoction was of strawberries, milk, heaps of sugar and sweetened cream. It was… it was a lot. But Zevran had long learned to put ingredients on the table that taste well together, lest he repeat the infamous ‘King’s juice’ that she made when Alistair had visited the summer before. It was a mix of grapes and whatever juice she had been given in place of the wine the adults had, which wasn’t bad. But then she’d added whatever her tiny hands could reach. 

Vinegar. Salt. A chili oil he understood a four year old could easily mistake for the strawberry syrup she put on all of her desserts.

Andraste bless Alistair. 

“Is it good? I picked the strawberries myself!”

“It’s as sweet as you are,” he replied. Gianna beamed at him. “Tell me, vida mía, what is this promise you wish I make?”

Gianna looked at the doll and stuffed animal that sat at the table in their respective chairs; the doll, Isabelina and her bear, Alistair, Not the King. She brought her finger to her mouth, telling them to stay silent before looking at Zevran so seriously, she looked like her mother. 

“It’s very important.”

Zevran leaned in, careful that his legs did not hit the small table. 

“Of course.”

Gianna motioned for Zevran to come closer and when he did, she covered his eyes. He held in his laugh. 

“I have a secret,” she whispered rather loudly into his ear. “And no one knows, not even Isabelina! And she knows everything!”

“Does your mamá know?” he whispered softly and Gianna quickly shook her head. 

Her whisper was softer now. “No. It’s gonna be a surprise.”

“I love a good surprise,” he mused. 

“It’s… hm.” She moved back and he found her pouting, as she often did when she was thinking. Then her face lit up. “I can show you!” 

“Alright, my little spymaster. You have my full attention.”

Gianna got to her feet, wiping her hands against her sky blue dress. Her gold bracelet glimmered on her wrist, just like the tiny ring on her pinky. She looked around before walking right up to Zevran and held out her hands as though in offering. He watched her pout, looking at her hands with so much concentration he felt she could have summoned fire. 

And then she did. 

Zevran’s eyes widened as she held the small flame in her little hands, finding her still wholly focused on it. He and Leliel had always known there was a chance she would be born with an affinity for magic, but until that moment, she had never displayed any signs. 

“This is wondrous,” Zevran said softly. “You are divine, cariño.” 

Gianna blew on the flame and when it would not go out, Zevran carefully closed her hands, holding them in his. She looked at him with such sadness, Zevran felt as though his heart would tear in two. 

“It’s really hard, papi,” she muttered. “It’s kinda scary.”

“I am not a mage, but we all get scared of things we don’t know, and that’s alright. Your mamá can teach you, so can your tía Morrigan- and she’s terrifying.”

Zevran chuckled, letting go of her hands. Gianna wasted no time in holding her arms out to him, something she barely did anymore but he would cherish till the day she no longer asked to be carried. Zevran took hold of her and got to his feet, his legs sore from sitting on a child’s wooden chair for so long. He cradled her against him and began to walk away from the yard and towards the terrace that overlooked the sea. 

“So, you want me to promise not to tell your mami? I can do that.”

“I know. It’s not that.”

“No?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“Can you promise you won’t let them take me away?” 

Zevran froze. 

“Can you? I don’t wanna live in a tower… Then I can’t see you anymore and they’ll take me far away and you’ll forget about me!”

Gianna was crying and Zevran found his voice at last. 

“No one is taking you away,” he said to her, holding her closer. “I will not allow it.”

“You promise?”

“I promise, Gia, te lo juro.” 

Gianna cried in his arms for a time, and Zevran did his best not to join her. He thought of Leliel, and all that she suffered in the Circle. Of the nightmares that sometimes still plagued her. She was still wary of Templars and could not fault her for it. To think of his child already worried of such things… He whispered his promises to Gianna, words of comfort and reminded her of the family she had that would always protect her. 

When Gianna’s crying turned into small hiccups, she held up her hand in a fist. Then she stuck out her pinky. 

“You have to do it,” she told him. “Then the promise can’t break.”

Zevran wasn’t sure what she meant, so he adjusted her to hold her with his left arm as he held out his right hand to her. She tapped her little finger against the gold ring he wore on his pinky. 

“You go like this.” She curled her pinky around his, well as much as she was able. So he did the same. “And now, you can’t break the promise.”

“Qué chulería!” he exclaimed and Gianna began to whine, wiggling her hand till he let go. Zevran laughed, moreso at the offended look on her face. 

“I mean it! It’s not pretend!”

Zevran covered her face in kisses. 

“I will keep this promise, I swear it on Andraste and all the gods.”

Gianna eyed him warily, arms crossed. It was like looking at a tiny, angry Leliel. 

“Fine.”

“Shall I swear it on the Maker?” he asked playfully. “On Isabelina? Or better yet, your Tía Isabela!”

“What about Isabela?”

Zevran and Gianna both looked at one another before Zevran turned around. Leliel was walking towards them, looking at them rather suspiciously. Especially when Gianna wiped at her eyes. 

“Papi made a pinky swear with me!” Gianna announced, and tugged on Zevran’s shirt. Zevran set her on her feet and watched her run off to Leliel who got down on one knee to embrace her. 

“Hello, my princess,” Leliel said as she kissed Gianna’s cheek. “How was your day?”

“I did alllllllll my letters! And then I picked strawberries while papi did his training.”

“Did you, now? I can’t wait to see your letters.”

“And then we had tea! Isabelina and Alistair went, too. Alistair Not the King, Tío is still in Den… Den-ah-ren.” Gianna made a sound of annoyance. “He’s in his castle.”

“Oh, then we should go ask if they’d like to come inside. I have a surprise for you, maybe you’d like to share with them.”

Gianna ran off to get her dolls while Leliel and Zevran met halfway. He kissed her once, twice, before embracing her. 

“Why was she crying?” Leliel whispered, bringing her arms around him. 

“She… she wanted me to promise I’d never let her be sent to the Circle.”

Leliel gasped and pulled back. She looked mortified. 

“How? Why would she even think of that?”

Zevran shook his head. 

“She was so distraught I didn’t think to ask.”

Leliel closed her eyes and sighed. Zevran kissed her forehead and embraced her once more. 

“I didn’t want to tell her about that yet.”

“I know, amor. I know.”

Zevran did not see Gianna at her table, and sighed. 

“I swore to her I would never allow it. None of us will.” 

Leliel nodded. 

“Don’t worry, we will talk to her. Together. For now, we must find where she went. I am not prepared to be the dragon in her game again. That wooden sword hurts. No five year old should hit that hard.”

They began to walk back to the house but Leliel stopped him. 

“Why would she even think she’d be sent to the Circle?”

“Ah. That. Well.” Zevran cleared his throat. “I am afraid I cannot say, preciosa. I have been sworn to secrecy, and if I should betray that trust, I will lose my eyes. I quite like them.”

“You’ll lose your what?” Leliel looked confused but then her eyes narrowed. “Leliana! Wait until I see her again. I’m going to strangle her.”

Zevran chuckled and took her by the hand. He kissed it and led her inside. 

Gianna’s attempt to attack Zevran with her wooden sword was thwarted by the gift her mother brought her. It was a paint set, with lacquered brushes and small canvases. Gianna was completely enamored with it. 

“Would you like to paint now?” Leliel asked. Gianna thought about it and then shook her head. 

“I have a surprise for you, mami bella.”

“You do?” 

“Yes. And then we can paint.” 

Leliel giggled. “Alright, I like that idea.” 

Gianna looked at Zevran who gave her an encouraging nod, and then she had her mother hold out her hands. Leliel looked at Zevran and he merely smiled. 

“Okay.” Gianna placed her hands over her mother’s. “It felt better when papi was holding my hands.” 

Zevran’s heart melted at that. 

Gianna looked at her hands and concentrated, her little brows furrowed. She pouted, slowly becoming frustrated as nothing happened. 

“It’s not working,” Gianna whined and Zevran went to kneel at her side. He kissed her cheek, earning a smile. With renewed determination, Gianna looked at her mother until a tiny spark sprang up from her hands. Leliel gasped inaudible as Gianna yelped, laughing nervously as little bolts of lightning danced over their joined hands. 

“Oh Gia…” Leliel was in tears. 

“Are you happy?” Gianna asked, closing her hands. 

Leliel pulled her into a hug. “Of course! I’m so proud of you, my angel.”

“Papi said you and tía Morrigan can teach me how to use magic.” 

Leliel hugged her tight. “Of course. We’ll have to send her a letter to come visit.” 

“I can paint her a picture!” Gianna said suddenly, breaking free from her mother’s embrace. She ran off, taking her paints with her. 

Zevran rose to his feet and held out his hand to Leliel. She took it and let him pull her up. 

“Was this her secret?” she asked. 

Zevran smirked. “Perhaps. 

Leliel brought her arms around him. 

“Thank you,” she said softly. 

“What for?”

“I had no one to protect me as a child,” she replied and Zevran felt his eyes sting. “I am so grateful to know that Gianna will never have to know what it is to be alone, to wish someone would save her. She has you… I have you. I love you so much, Zevran.”

Zevran embraced her, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. 

“I love you, con toda mi alma,” he said. “And so as long as I can help it, you always will. Te lo prometo.”

[asterkiss]

What a Catch!: Chapter 9

Pairing: Bill/Mabel Synopsis: Mabel was a mermaid who didn't ask for much. In fact, all she pretty much wanted from her soulmate was a romantic first meeting where he would sweep her off her fins. Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Her soulmate didn't so much sweep her off her fins as he trapped her in a fish net. [Read on AO3 here]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5  | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |  Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 |

CHAPTER 9: HANG IN THERE

A glint of sunlight reflected off something on the riverbed and as Mabel drew closer in curiosity, she reached out for the item mostly buried beneath sand and dirt.

Then, she recognised it.

It was the same hand mirror that had led to her capture one year prior. She swallowed as she regarded the monumental item within her hands. Algae had begun growing around the frame following its time in the water, and some of the golden colour had peeled away to reveal silver beneath.

She frowned at the memory it pulled out of her mind, carefully turning the item over in her hands. The back of the frame showed a raised triangle with a solitary eye in its centre, and the phrase ‘CIPHER’ appeared beneath. Mabel cocked her head inquisitively, turning the item over again and allowing it to glint in the beams of sunlight filtering through the water.

Unfortunately, the light also caught the attention of someone else.

A shadow passed over her frame from above, and Mabel’s stomach dropped. She snapped her head around in the same instance something fired through the water from above and hit her square in the chest.

The mirror fell from her hands, landing once again on the riverbed. The triangle with the eye inside it peered up towards the sky as her form went slack and darkness told hold.

>

The same triangle motif appeared on a golden ring as the hand it was attached to grabbed a last handful of berries from a bush. Bill pocketed them away before he straightened up. Placing both hands on the small of his back, he stretched until he heard a satisfying crack before sighing and turning to leave.

His back had never been the same since he tried to take on that Multi-Bear monster.

His morning had been uneventful so far but he’d actually had a decent sleep for once so he was in better spirits than was normal for him. He actually whistled as he returned back to base.

However, the second he stepped into the camp, any joy quickly deserted him.

His heart plummeted, Bill's entire body tensing as a nauseating sensation took over him and weighed him down like lead.

All this because of the sight before him.

‘Isn’t it great!?’ Kryptos cried, giggling in excitement as he bounded towards him upon arrival. ‘I caught it all by myself! I used the tranquilizer gun!’

Bill swallowed past the hard lump in his throat, blood rushing in his ears and heart hammering as his eyes fell upon the mermaid. She was hanging from a tree branch by her bound wrists, water dripping off her form and onto the ground below.

‘And don’t worry I read the guidebooks, so I’ve been throwing water on her every half hour to keep her fresh,’ Kryptos went on, running circles around Bill as the blond slowly approached the mermaid. He stopped shy of ten feet however, eyes quickly scanning her entire form.

‘…And why did  you cover her face?’ he asked, referring to the blindfold and mouth gag. He actually managed to sound calm despite the tornado of emotions ricocheting within his head.

‘Hm? Oh that. Well I heard this rumour from the other guys that mermaids can enchant you with their voices or eyes, so I thought better safe than sorry, right?’

Bill scoffed. ‘That’s bullshit.’

‘It is? Oh, well never mind then.’ Kryptos shrugged before regarding him. ‘So anyway, what do we do with it now? Are you gonna show me how you kill ‘em?’

THe blond clenched his fists, feeling a hot anger course through his veins. He turned away from the sight, breathing in deeply whilst he ran a hand roughly through his hair.

‘Cuz?’ Kryptos asked, the younger body regarding him cautiously. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ he snapped.

His cousin gave him a doubtful look. ‘….Okay, well I don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist but you’ve been in a bad mood since we got here. Do you wanna call it quits and just take this one home? Not like we’re going back empty handed so it won’t be too bad.’

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a tension headache surfacing. ‘Go away.’

‘Huh?’

‘I said get lost,’ he growled. ‘I want to be alone.’

The younger boy frowned at that, looking ready to argue. But as Bill glance aside and pinned him with a murderous glare, any protest quickly died on his lips. Instead, he gave a quick nod as he replied quietly. ‘Um, sure… I'll go check our traps then.'

So his cousin left.

And Bill was left alone with the mermaid.

He sighed, turning to regard her once again. Mabel, was what the cervitaur had called her. He couldn’t tell if she was conscious or not. Slowly, he began to approach her form, tilting his head to stare up at her as she hung from the tree a few feet above. Why did the sight make him so uneasy? He'd done worse before, after all.

And yet the longer he stared, the more sick he felt.

Bill reached out and grabbed for the cloth acting as a blindfold, and in that instant Mabel's entire body flinched in response – ah, so she was awake – before he yanked the thing down to reveal a pair of wide, terrified eyes.

He offered a wry smile. ‘…Sup.’

Mabel’s gaze frantically regarded his face, and the amount of panic within her expression was paramount. Couldn’t really blame her. But then for some reason she seemed to.... calm down? The alarm in her expression at the very least died down and wasn't as obvious. He didn't like that.

‘Alright, so I’m gonna remove this gag,’ he advised. ‘But I swear, if you start screaming or making any piercing sounds, I’ll shove it right back on. Capiche?’

She nodded.

‘Good.’ He hooked a finger over the second cloth around her face and tugged it down so it hung around her neck instead. She sucked in a sharp breath as soon as her mouth was free, chest heaving with deep breaths.

Then, finally-

‘Your cousin is a jerk.’

Of all things for her to say first, that he hadn’t been expecting. He gave a casual shrug. ‘The apple doesn’t fall far in our family.’

She scowled at him. ‘Let me go.’

‘Why should I?’ he asked, tilting his head curiously. ‘I don’t owe you anything. We’re even.’ He’d released her in the beginning, and in return she’d healed him.

‘You let my brother go.'

He blinked. ‘Your brother?’

‘Dipper,’ she clarified. ‘He’s a cervitaur.’

Oh, that brat. Wait- ‘How the hell is he your brother, you’re entirely different species,’ he blurted out in confusion. As she went to reply however he held up a hand to halt her and shook his head. ‘Wait, no, forget that for now- that has nothing to do with your current predicament, kid. Do you realise how much shit you’re in right now?’

She blinked. ‘Not if you release me.’

She said it as if it was so obvious.

He scowled, jabbing a finger at her chest. ‘Listen here, I’m a Hunter if you didn’t forget. Catching you guys is part of the job.’

‘But you keep letting us go,’ she replied, raising an eyebrow pointedly. And oh, she looked so fucking smug it made him annoyed. He growled, leaning closer so they were eye to eye and some of the bravado in her expression faded at the close proximity. Good.

‘I only hunt the best of the best,’ he explained carefully. ‘Every creature I capture is amazing quality, perfect enough that they become a prized trophy thereafter. So why the hell would I waste my time with a pair of kids still growing into their fins and antlers, when I can go after bigger fry?’

She didn't have anything to say to that it seemed and he huffed at her. He could tell from this proximity that she was starting to dry out and as she licked her dry lips he felt his chest squeeze uncomfortably.

‘Is your name Cipher?’

He blinked. ‘…Where did you hear that?’

‘The mirror.’

His eyebrows furrowed.

‘The one you lured me with last year,’ she explained.

Oh, that thing. God, he’d forgotten all about it. He scoffed, leaning away. ‘Cipher’s my family name, I go by-‘ He cut off, internally swearing. Why the hell was he telling her this? Argh, this is why he hated this kid! With a grumble he pulled out a knife, the blade flashing between them. He saw her eyes widen and as much as he'd love to try teasing her to see if she became scared again, he was really wanting to get this over done with quickly. So, in one motion he cut the bindings around her wrists. He needed her to leave.

Now.

He intentionally didn't think ahead of the consequences of this action, he would deal with those later. Right now he was more preoccupied with putting as much distance as he could with the mermaid who kept messing with his thoughts and actions.

He caught Mabel's body before she could drop to the floor, slinging her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and turning to head for the nearest body of water.

His heart continuned to beat erratically all the while.

>

Mabel blinked, allowing herself to be hoisted over his shoulder and carried away.  She cleared her throat after a while. ‘Sooo, you’re letting me go?’

‘Watch it,’ he growled.

Mabel realised her lips were trying to stretch into a smile. He kept claiming he was a Bad Guy but not only had he let her brother go, but this was the second time he’d be releasing her as well.

He was rapidly losing credibility to any statements he made trying to suggest otherwise.

‘Alright,' he suddenly declared, coming to a halt.

Without warning Mabel found herself thrown into a river without hesitation. Oof. She welcomed the water rushing through her gills however, relieving her dried out skin and parched throat. When she surfaced a moent later, he was already walking away.

‘Thank you, Mr Cipher man!’ she cried.

He stopped and glanced back with a disgruntled expression. ‘Don’t call me that!’

‘Then what should I call you?’ she asked, fishing quite obviously.

His lip curled and he said nothing, turning back and leaving.

Hmph. Fine. He didn’t want to offer her any information? She had other people who could assist instead now that she had a family name to go on.

Ducking down until only her head peeked out of the water, she frowned as mixed feelings churned within her chest. It was weird, the moment the guy’s cousin left and she’d realised it was just him she hadn’t been all that scared. Not after Dipper had advised her only a few days prior of his run-in with the Hunter.

Was it too optimistic of her to hope he really was redeemable?

[no-droids]

Rough Day (The Mandalorian x Reader)

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: When you woke up this morning, you didn’t really think it would be a “fixing Mando’s knife wound and then giving him a handjob” kind of day today but hey, who knew that agreeing to babysit a bounty hunter’s weird, green little child would be so full of surprises.

Warnings: Smut, language, handjobs (duh), dirty talk, Pedro Pascal (deserves his own warning), mentions of blood, spoilers for the Mandalorian.

Maker, why is this even a thing?

You don’t know his name.  You’ve never seen his face.  He barely says a word, doesn’t even move much unless he needs to.  If he didn’t have such an obvious complex about droids, you would’ve thought he could be one himself, quietly forged and hidden beneath gleaming beskar armor for an untold number of years.  You know practically nothing about him other than the few things you’ve heard about his culture—most likely either grossly exaggerated or just flat out nonsense.  Everything about him is an enigma, even down to the vaguely impersonal things, such as the technical name for his “poof gun” or what insane percentage of his body weight metal has to account for.

But that doesn’t stop you.  Nope, the fact that you’ve never even seen a strip of his skin doesn’t stop you from nursing a stupid, helpless crush on the quiet bounty hunter.  Stars, it’s ridiculous.  The modulated, low baritone, the intimidating way he carries himself, so stoic and dark and foreboding and tall—

He terrifies you.  You’re absolutely terrified of bothering him, of being too forward or inquisitive.  You sit in the cockpit with him for hours in dead silence, kid perched on your lap in the copilot’s seat to keep him from touching anything, hypnotized by the way his helmet subtly reflects the streaks of hyperspace as they race by and thinking about all the impossible things you want to know but can never ask about.  The last thing you want to do is accidentally test his patience, possibly get marooned on some backwater planet somewhere because you just couldn’t accept something so beautifully mysterious for what it is.

So you ultimately strive to be almost as quiet as he is, always helpful but never in the way.  You troubleshoot mechanical issues with the vessel when they make themselves known, take the baby in one of the secluded areas of the hull and play peekaboo for a bit when he gets too fussy, or just pick up a rag and start cleaning when there’s nothing else to occupy your time.  You sleep occasionally, curling up on the floor of the hull with a blanket to avoid taking up too much space, living out of your suitcase and making a generous ten percent of his commissions just by copiloting and keeping watch over the child while he works.  With the strict schedule he keeps, your pay is always handsome and consistent, even if it is all a bit boring.

Watching him wrestle his bounties into carbonite is admittedly the most exciting part for you, the rest of your days filled with nothing but the interior of the vessel as it either travels through hyperspace or sits stationary on a planet.  He always returns to you bruised and dirty, manhandling and shoving his bounties up the ramp and into the carbonite chamber one by one, not bothering with the fuel needed to collect payment until at least three or four have been retrieved.

You try not to constantly replay the incredibly vivid memory of one of them snarling something sexually obscene at you once and how quickly the bounty hunter whipped his fist out and broke his nose before freezing him.

“Isn’t… isn’t he still conscious in there?”  You remember asking, studying the disgustingly crooked angle of the man’s shattered silver nose, to which the Mandalorian shortly replied, “Yes,” before clambering into the cockpit and taking off.

You had to bite down on the back of your hand to keep from whimpering when you touched yourself later that night.

Maker, you want him.  You want to help him relax, give him something soft and warm to come back to after exhausting days spent in the elements, after not sleeping for who knows how long and toting elusive criminals behind him.  Sometimes you can’t think about anything else besides how hard he’d fuck, how much he desperately needs it, how sexy his voice would sound raggedly gasping your name through the modulator in his helmet.  You want to get on your knees and give him the reward he deserves for putting himself in danger for a living, risking his life time and time again for mere credits.  If he even returns your feelings by ten percent, it’d be gracious and far more than you deserve.

But then one day he comes back limping, dragging a dead body on the ground behind him by the hem of its ankle.  The baby is already fast asleep in the cockpit so you thankfully have nothing better to do but watch as he silently hauls the dead weight into the hull, heaves it upright into the carbonite chamber.  He’s slow—too slow in pressing the button.  He looks at it for too long.  It’s like he has to double-check it’s the right one, adjust his vision until it fully focuses and registers.  Breath coming out stunted and shallow through his helmet, every movement somehow looks like it’s increasingly more difficult for him, limbs heavy and weighed down with iron braces and pure exhaustion.

His silhouette slowly approaches through the thick haze of freezing gas, and you blink rather stupidly down at your hand when an emergency cauterizer is suddenly pushed into it.  Without a word, he turns around and starts working at his chest plate.

You’re… you’re actually kind of worried now.  He usually takes care of these things himself, shuts himself away and tends to his own wounds after capturing unexpectedly difficult quarry.  How serious must his injury be to not bother getting into hyperspace before treating it, much less even closing the door to the ship?

Finally managing to find some sense of urgency, you quickly reach up to fiddle with the complex magnetics below either of his pauldrons.  Once the beskar, utility belt, and underplates are all removed, the Mandalorian abruptly drops to his knees with a loud clang and curls over, reaching behind his gleaming helmet to pull weakly at his cape and tunic.  You lower yourself to the floor and help him, hands trying not to shake as the warm, tan skin of his spine gradually reveals itself from under the dark fabric.

Your heart somehow leaps and contorts simultaneously, soon catching sight of the ugly tear of a knife wound steadily dripping crimson down his side.  “Shit,” you whisper, fumbling with the unfamiliar piece of medical equipment in your hands.  “Shit, Mando, are—are you sure this’ll be enough?”

“Not deep,” he punches out through the modulator.  “Just need… close it.  Be alright.  Sleep.  Set coordinates…”

The cauterizer zaps red and reflects against the gradually dissipating fog in the air, its threatening buzz echoing throughout the quiet hull with impending pain.  

“Try not to move,” you warn, swallowing thickly and reaching your hand out to rest along the smoothness of his bared skin.  He noticeably flinches.

Your fingers squeeze gently, reassuringly as you bring the laser down and start at the very edge of the wound.  The Mandalorian manages to stay remarkably still for being in what you can only imagine must be incredible pain, the skin of his back feverishly warm under your palm as it periodically flickers and illuminates a glowing red.  

You have to bite down on your lip when he suddenly shoots a hand back to firmly grab hold of the bend in your knee, taking slow, deep breaths through the modulator and trying to relax the tensing muscles wrapping around his spine.

Maker, this is like a fever dream.  His skin is so smooth, firm and lovely and bronze under your gentle touch, muscles pulsing with life as you slowly work to stop the bleeding by scarring over the tissue.  It’s so… intimate.  The silence broken only by the zapping cauterizer and his tight breaths, the way you’re both holding onto each other for entirely different reasons.

His grip on your knee suddenly turns to steel and he huffs out a ragged gasp in wordless caution, giving you just enough time to pull your thumb off the button before his body jerks a few inches in pain.  His tunic falls down your wrist with the abrupt movement and nearly touches the sizzling wound before you can catch it, quickly yanking the fabric up his curled back as far as you can and readjusting your hold on him.

You give him a beat to recover like that before softly reassuring under your breath, “Halfway done,” and brushing the knuckles of your other hand down his spine in a small gesture of comfort.

His muted grunt of acknowledgement follows a minuscule little tremor under your palm, the way his body seems to be responding to your touch filling you with some new, radical kind of bravery.  You quietly shuffle closer to him and turn the cauterizer back on, carefully framing his hips with your open legs.

“That little green thing up there is a monster, you know,” you suddenly say, wanting to distract him by filling the void but not wanting to overwhelm him with conversation.  Even small talk is considered uncharted territory here, but you figure it’s better than letting him suffer in silence.  “I saw it eat a live fish today.  A fish.  Grabbed it out of the pond over there like it was nothing and just swallowed the damn thing whole, fins and all.  Most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You don’t hear him or see him move, but you do feel a subtle shake of his ribcage under your hand.  It fills your heart with air.

“Was twice as big as the little hairball,” you continue on.  “Surprised he’s not still flailing around in there right now, throwing him off balance.”

“Not with…those ears,” a modulated voice returns quietly, his gloved thumb barely brushing a half inch across your kneecap when you suddenly breathe out a laugh in surprised delight.  

“Maker, it’s worse than I thought.”  Your hand soothes gently along his back, trailing over the hills and valleys of each individual rib while you work.  “A Mandalorian just told a joke.”

“S-symptom of… of impend—ing death.”

“Yes, well.  At least the dramatics are consistent,” you remark.  “I deserve a raise, by the way.  Holding that little gremlin over the toilet and having him stare up at me while he does his business is getting real old real quick, tell you that much.”

“Reason…” he breathes out, trying not to wince, “…hired you.”

“Jerk,” you accuse with a smile.  “He’s healing you next time.”

There’s a small huff through the modulator, and his helmet tinks against the metal floor when he abruptly drops his head to rest there.

“Almost done,” you tell him, curling your fingers and softly dragging your nails down his side in hopes of distracting him from the pain.  It works like a charm, his whole body instantly going boneless at the sensation.  “Finish this up, close the door, set coordinates.  Get you clean, then you can rest for a few days.  You work too hard.”

“Mand—lorean…” he barely croaks out in response, as if the almost inaudible word counts as a valid explanation.

“Hadn’t noticed,” you say, finally reaching the other end of the wound.  You turn the cauterizer off and double check your work, hating the deformed scar for marring his beautiful skin but reasonably satisfied it won’t accidentally reopen.  “Alright.  Done.”

He doesn’t move.

“… Mando?”

His body stays completely still, unresponsive to your inquiry and his breaths no longer immediately audible.  Your blood instantly turns to ice in your veins as you drop the silver contraption to reach around his body and shove two fingers under his helmet, pressing them up against his lower jaw as best you can.  Only, the thick fabric of his cape wraps around his neck in layers like a shawl, blocking you from feeling his pulse.

“Shit,” you hiss, your other hand quickly rounding his side under the tunic to travel up the front of his bare torso instead. Pointedly ignoring the way his chest hair tickles your fingers as you wiggle them up firm pectorals and a prominent collar bone, you eventually find and push against a scruffy jawline.

The quick, steady beating under the tips of your fingers allows you to relax just slightly, but then the Mandalorian suddenly grunts and shifts, trapping your elbow under his arm and bringing his hand up to cradle the back of yours over his shirt.

You freeze with your body nearly folded over him on the floor like that, praying you haven’t overstepped somehow.  This is an emergency, surely he wouldn’t think you’re—

Slowly, so achingly slowly, he starts to pull your hand down the strong lines of his neck.  You gasp, fingers trembling under his as he gradually leads you lower, letting you trace the dip in his collar bone, spread out across the solid curve of his chest and feel his heart beat unexpectedly rapidly under your palm.

Maker, this is real—he’s real.  Warm, sturdy, clearly too delirious and lost in the same exact euphoria you are to snap himself out of it.  Touch.  Skin-to-skin contact after so much isolation, so many years spent by yourself.  In other circumstances, you might be worried that you’re taking advantage of him in his clearly exhausted state, but his grip on the back of your hand is so strong—his path so steady and clear as you both travel across the hard ridges of his sternum and abdominal muscles.  If anything, he’s not giving you much of a choice in the matter, and for some reason that fact alone serves to make you incredibly bold.

When your fingers eventually bump into the hem of his trousers, you cautiously lean forward and press your lips to the Mandalorian’s exposed shoulder blade.

He instantly goes rigid at the gentle kiss.  And then his entire back quakes with a shudder.

“Fuck,” comes that dark, gritted baritone through the modulator, losing all sense of composure and frantically shoving your hand beneath the fabric hugging his waistline.

“Maker,” you whisper against his skin, equally as fervent, letting him spread his legs slightly in his hunched-over position and maneuver your palm to wrap around a warm, thick cock.  He groans and gives them both a good, rough squeeze over the thick layers of fabric.

“Fuck—you’re—“ he moans hoarsely, moving to brace an arm above his head on the floor with a metallic clatter so he can slowly start to thrust his hips into your clenched fist, “fuck—soft.  How’re you so f-fucking—sof—oft.  ‘N pr-pretty.”

Your body fills with wildfire, ladling heat into your lower tummy.  “Softer somewhere else,” you admit quietly, brushing your thumb along the tip of his cock and humming when his body jerks with it.

“I—fuck—be-believe you,” he gasps, growing harder and harder in your hand.  “Bet you feel—per-perfect.  S’perfect.  H-home.  Rough—” his breathing stutters, helmet rolling to the side on the floor with a dull scrape, “Ngh, fuck—ro—ough day.”

“Let me handle it,” you murmur, beginning to stroke his throbbing length up and down in time with his cramped, stunted thrusts.  It’s not ideal, of course; it’s dry, probably too dry but for some reason you think he might like it more this way.  He gets to feel every ridge and crevice your fingers catch, gets to use his hand to tighten your grip around him even more and desperately start dry fucking your fist like he’ll never get enough of the sensation.

“Let you do anything,” he agrees mindlessly, the words sounding slurred and distorted as he groans them deliriously into the floor.  “Give you—give you anything.  Fuck.  Sw-sweet girl.  Helpful.  Always—always taking care of things.  The k-kid.  L-look so—look so pretty.”

You press soft, open-mouthed kisses along the heaving curve of his spine, letting your warm tongue come out to taste the thin sheen of moisture glistening there.  He growls low in his throat and freezes, holding himself perfectly still and clenching his hand into a fist on the floor as you flutter your tongue against his skin.

“I like taking care of other things, too,” you say softly into the dip in his shoulder blade.

“Ah—fucking, stars—like it—like it, too,” he grits, his cock pulsing between his legs.  “T-too much.”

“Relax,” you encourage, reaching your other hand down to gently cup his balls.  “Relax.  You need rest.  Just cum like this, I’ll go down on you later if you want.”

And then quite suddenly—so suddenly that you think it might actually surprise him more than you—he does.  

The Mandalorian cums.  Hard.  In your hand, right there on the floor, dark clothes bloody and prestigious armor halfway ripped off his body.

A ragged gasp tears through the modulator and his back straightens, the chin of his helmet lifting off the ground a few inches with it and his balls pulling up deliciously tight under your palm.  Warmth immediately begins to coat your fingers in throbbing spurts as he clangs a clenched fist against the hull, growling the first part of your name before it turns into a savage, wordless snarl.

You bite down on his back and moan with him, caressing the swollen head of his cock as it pulses spectacularly in your hand.  His orgasm is long and achingly slow, draining his body of its dwindling energy with every thick rope of cum you’re able to milk out of him.  He gasps and swears his whole way through it, until he finally exhausts every last reserve he has and collapses weakly to the floor.

With careful precision, you’re eventually able to remove your hands from his crotch.  His back continues to rise and fall with quiet, steady breaths, clearly passed out from overexertion, but it does give you the opportunity and privacy to lick your fingers clean without feeling embarrassed for doing so in front of him.

Nope, no embarrassment, just so fucking turned on that you might actually die.  He tastes absolutely divine—warm and masculine and gorgeously thick coating the shallow hills and shores of your knuckles.  Following your own advice, you manage to stand on shaky legs and close the hatch of the ship, deciding you should probably plot a course for… somewhere, before trying to clean Mando up or dress his wound.

You take a second to look back at him, laying there in a gorgeously disheveled pile on the floor, dead asleep.  It fills you with a surge of pride, being able to reduce such an untouchable, reputable bounty hunter to the level of any other man.  You already want him again, you’re already addicted to the glorious power trip of feeling him let go and fall apart under your touch.

Later, you silently promise yourself, climbing the ladder to the cockpit.  Later.

Edit: Read part two, Heaven in Hyperspace here.

[eritvita]

“I am so very sorry, Fin,” murmurs Roland, as he leans into her as the bulwark, the stalwart Oak, the Magician with the Silver Cloak. He rubs his knuckles ‘pon the strength of her bicep, and lounges with her in that safest knot of this great, loving tree, and sighs heartfully. He confers with that bottle of mead, and takes again another pull.

“Thou art done a damned good attempt to fix the brevity of this Insanity,” says he, blurted amidst the silence of twittering birds, the creak of the wind through the scant, broken branches. He lifts a palm, using his fingers to visibly count. “Thou art tendered to fix the War, to fix civility of broken bones and terrified parishioners of the main Faith, and thou art come to make Merry within thine own blood, the worried Folk of our shared Ancestry. Thou hast the league of the Inquisition with the same visions of thine own Heart. Thou art done beautifully at thine own expense,” says he gently, and bumps at her playfully, making himself sway.

“The gaggles of Halla leaping through the rocks and the battlements of this Place art the clearest sight of Hope hath I e’er espied,” says Roland, and dost bounce his handsome brows in thrice. "And that is saying something!"

As the bread is offered out to her, there is a bit of hesitance. Fin hadn't realized how hungry she was until that moment. It had been hard to eat when her mind was this way. They had slept after clearing both sides of the ramparts, but she had not eaten. Hadn't been able to break fast either due to all the uneasiness within her being.

"I could plant as many trees as my heart would desire and it still wouldn't be enough." The Dalish woman laughs softly as she puts her free hand over her eyes. This wasn't her burden to bear. It was not as though she was the cause of any of the unrest. Well. Not technically. This war had happened many, many years ago. It was just, you know, her fault that the rifts were torn open and spirits were at unease again.

"I know, I know...spirits will do as they have always done...I know..." her voice trills as she huffs at the idea, taking the mead from him now and swallowing a good gulp, one that rounded her cheeks and left a wrinkle upon her nose. "I just...I hate it. I hate leaving things so unfinished. I know they are not my burden, I know that I can't fix all the problems...I just...!" There is a feeling of necessity. That this has been put in front of her by all those laughing behind the Veil and she must do it.

Taking a bite of the bread, Finduilas leans now against Roland, her head upon his shoulder, blonde trusses falling like her own veil as she nibbles, thinking upon it. "I needn't have Varric step in. You, though, I wouldn't mind having speak so poetically to our possible allies." She takes a bigger bite this time, feeling like she must balance food from drink else she would get too free with her words. "...thank you, Roland..."

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

So given the lightning effects Vee gives off, does this mean he's likely descended from a blue or bronze shadow-dragon?

(( This is the “part two” I was talking about~!)) 

~~

      Well, if Virgil is descended from a Drow Dragon-shifter, he would have a 'tell' specific to his type!

      Dragon-shifter descendants can either manifest their parent's Mana or their Might, which changes the way their heritage manifests.

      Those who manifest Mana are born as spellcasters (sorcerer or wizard) who specialize in the elemental magic of their parent, either dark magic from the shadow dragon mutation or the element of the base dragon type (fire, ice, lightning, etc). Those who manifest Might have physical mutations to match the distinctive traits of their parent dragon type, and are incredibly stealthy (more so than drow usually are lol) and naturally give off an intimidating aura.

~~~

The tells are as follows: (Keep in mind, these are specific to the non-shifter children of Drow Shadow-Dragon-Shifters.)

~

Black Dragons

Mana: A natural talent for necromancy, fear spells, and acid magic.

Might: Thick black hair, unnaturally pale skin on the face and hands, a foul smell. Difficult to grow muscle mass or gain weight. Have either black wings or black fins. Higher tolerance to acid.

Personality (both mana and might): Tend to be more unfazed by death and suffering, and have a high pain tolerance. Enjoy playing with or fixing broken things, exploring ruins, and learning history. Tend to be sorcerers, warlocks, rogues, or artificers.

~

Blue Dragons

Mana: A natural talent for evocation, teleportation/movement spells, and lightning magic.

Might: Rhino-like horns growing up from their noses. Large, powerful blue-and-black wings and barrel-chests. The smell of sand. Dark-colored hair and at least one dark blue or black eye. The fastest fliers.

Personality: Tend to be vain and talkative, like to show off their skills and looks at any possible opportunity. Adore jewelry, piercings, and tattoos. Drawn to the sound of rolling thunder. Tend to be bards, rogues, or warlocks.

~

Brass Dragons

Mana: A natural talent for enchantment, communication spells, and fire magic.

Might: “V”-shaped, brass-and-black glider-like wings. Extremely pronounced cheekbones, and owl-like feathers growing from their necks, shoulders, and backs. Radiate heat like nobody’s business. Red irises. Better tolerance for hot temperatures and lightning/thunder damage.

Personality: Extremely, extremely talkative. Get annoyed when they are not the center of attention. Make sure everyone around them is healthy and well-rested, and will incessantly bother them into taking care of themselves if they aren't. Can’t stand to be alone. Don’t blink very often. Tend to be bards or rogues.

~

Bronze Dragons

Mana: A natural talent for weather/water-controlling magic and lightning magic.

Might: Black claws and jagged teeth. Teal tiger stripes on their skin. Bronze-and-black wings and/or eel-like fins along their torso and limbs. Smell of the ocean. The ability to swim in running water.

Personality: Preference for martial combat. Drawn to the sea. Curious and inquisitive, also very stubborn. Love to organize things and collect old coins. Tend to be bards, rogues, or fighters.

~

Copper Dragons

Mana: A natural talent for illusions and enchantment, defensive magic, and earth-molding spells.

Might: Flatter, less pronounced noses. Thick skin and copper-and-black,  “U”-shaped, glider-like wings. A proportionate version of the copper dragon’s prehensile armored tail. If older, turquiose-green tinted pupils. Better tolerance for hot temperatures.

Personality: Sociable and humorous; love riddles, jokes, and people who make them often. Enjoy entering in battles of wits just to amuse themselves or others, even purposefully taking faulty stances to make the debate more fun. Don’t like violence, or people they can’t read. Adore any and all gifts from friends, and the taste of poisonous prey. Tend to be sorcerers, rogues, or bards.

~

Gold Dragons

Mana: A natural talent for evocation, battlefield manipulation spells, and fire magic.

Might: Golden or black eyes with no pupil or iris. Golden antler-like horns, claws, and whiskers, all tipped with black. The ability to fly through magic. Their hair reflects golden in sunlight.  Better tolerance for extreme temperatures.

Personality: Single-minded and determined, and tend to be solitary. Have a passion for elegant combat. Tend to be paladins, rangers, or rogues.

~

Green Dragons

Mana: A natural talent for illusion and enchantment, mind-manipulation spells, and poison magic.

Might: Forked tongues and smatterings of green snake-like scales. At least one yellow eye. Green-and-black wings. Better tolerance for poison damage.

Personality: Duplicitous and talkative. Despise being left in the dark about anything, and having secrets kept from them, but keep most of their own personal information close to the chest. Fear violence, and enjoy being the smartest person in the room. Delight in being able to talk their way into and out of things. Value trust over everything else. Tend to be bards, rogues, or spellcastors.

~

Red Dragons

Mana: A natural talent for evocation, destructive spells, and fire magic.

Might: Red-and-black slightly-frayed wings, and proportionate versions of the red dragon’s horns. Glowing eyes. Smell of smoke. Better tolerance for extreme heat.

Personality: Prideful, greedy, and glutenous. Delight in having power and exercising it over others. Very, very quick to anger. Tend to be barbarians, rogues, or sorcerers.

~

Silver Dragons

Mana: A natural talent for support and defensive spells, and ice magic.

Might: Silver hair, and pupil-less eyes with silver or black sclera and silvery-purple irises. Silver antler-like horns, that turn purple towards the middle and black at the tips. Soft-furred, weasel-like tails, that fade from white to dark purple to black. The ability to fly through magic. Better tolerance for extreme temperatures.

Personality: Soft-spoken deep thinkers. Adore socializing, but usually prefer to absorb whatever’s going on around them rather than be the loudest voice. Enjoy keepsakes and friendship bracelets. Incredibly glutinous. Tend to be bards, clerics, monks, or rogues.

~

White Dragons

Mana: A natural talent for necromancy and/or ice magic.

Might: White-and-black wings. Unusually tall and well-muscled; More strong, durable, and dexterous than their peers. At least one eye that is some shade of purple or ice-blue. Able to swim in running water, and better tolerance for cold.

Personality: Prefer to avoid social situations, and tend to hate talking, going days or even years avoiding it. Extremely good hunters, and don’t trust food they haven’t hunted themselves, preferring the taste of fresh meat to anything else. Extremely loyal to those who win their trust, though this trust is not easily or quickly won. Tend to be rangers, fighters, barbarians, or rogues.

~

!! Note !! : As part shadow-dragon, ALL of them have natural skill in shadow-manipulation magic, Mana AND Might-focused!

[thiswasinevitableid]

3. Sweets for OT4 because Barclay making sweet things for his polycule is the soft that I need! Sfw, with mer Duck and Joseph?

Here it is! Joseph’s design is based on a Spotted Drum, Duck’s on a Mahi-Mahi.

Most days, Barclay’s house resembles a cookbook library. Today, it looks like a cookbook library that got hit by a catastrophic earthquake.

His goal is to find three perfect recipes to bring to the beach with him tonight, but he keeps changing his mind; whenever he settles on a menu, he turns the page or turns around and finds another contender staring at him from its glossy photo.

Indrid is the simplest; he likes sweet food in all his forms, though he’ll make concessions to the rest of the tastes from time to time. It was one such concession (to sour) that first introduced them. Indrid was shooting a fashion spread in town and came into Amnesty Lodge, where Barclay was working the counter at their little coffee bar. 

“I suppose I should get a slice of the key lime pie, since we’re in the keys.”

Barclay cut him a generous slice because he liked the curve of his smile. Indrid sat at the counter, took a bite, took a second bite, and then ate so fast his fork was a silver blur. He licked his plate clean when he thought Barclay wasn’t looking. There was a dot of whipped cream on his nose that Barclay almost offered to kiss off. But he exercised restraint and gave him a napkin instead.

Indrid came back the next day, and the next, and the day after that too. When Barclay asked how long the shoot was, Indrid admitted it was done three days ago.

“I, ah, I’ve been coming down from the city just for your food.”

“That’s the best compliment anyone’s ever given me.” Barclay leans across the counter, smiling when he spots Indrid’s eyes giving him a once over from behind his red-lensed glasses.

“May I have the chance to pay you some more? Perhaps tonight if you’re free? 

He was, and Indrid complimented him before, after, and during the night they spent together. Barclay would have been fine with a one-night stand, let the memory of Indrid’s tan, angular body under his hands carry him for the next few months. But the photographer came back at least three times a week and took Barclay out as much as possible. He learned Indrid was a big enough deal that he could pick and choose assignments and that he traveled often, but the longer they were together, the more he talked about moving his headquarters to Kepler.

Two years later, his office and studio are ten minutes from the apartment he and Barclay share. When he’s in town, he’s glued to Barclays side.When he travels, Barclay gets postcards signed with hearts or filled with sketches of what Indrid’s seen (and he always comes home laden with local delicacies for Barclay to try).

Wait, what were those hard candies he brought back and then ate all of? Yeah, that will work. Barclay checks to be sure he has heavy cream and makes a note to get pineapple from the grocery store. He’d hoped to avoid a trip out, but Indrid is worth it. Indrid is one of the best things to ever happen to him. 

He’s also the reason Barclay has to find three recipes and not just one.

A year ago Indrid was location scouting for a dramatic oceanside shoot. On a remote outcropping, waves splashing around him, a man popped up from the water to ask what the hell he was doing so far out and didn’t he know the tide overtook this rock real quick?

Indrid, a little strange himself, recovered quickly from being scolded  by a merman. And promptly asked if merman would like to pose for a portrait. If not, would he be able to show Indrid some good locations for photographing rays?

Duck, green-finned and strong, became Indrid’s guide to the reef. It didn’t take long before Barclay noticed Indrid getting dreamy-eyed when he recounted their adventures. Maybe he should have been jealous, but he was just happy his boyfriend found a hunky merman to show him the wonders of the sea.

These days, he considers Duck one of his best friends, a friend who also happens to make Indrid’s face light up like the Vegas strip whenever he smiles at him. 

Duck’s palate tends towards the savory side, and on days when he needs a pick-me-up Barclay will bring him a travel bowl of french onion soup and a hard seltzer, the two of them sitting on the sand and comparing notes on troublesome customers (or, in Duck’s case, park guests in the aquatic campground on the far edge of the reef. 

Actually, that gives Barclay an idea. He grabs the flour from the cupboard, sets it next to the jar of yeast and a bottle of wheat beer. They may be metamours and not partners but, as Barclay often jokes, he owes Duck big time. 

See, shortly after meeting Duck, Indrid guided Barclay down to a hidden patch of beach. 

“I want Duck to meet you, dearest. He also has someone he wishes to introduce to us.”

Duck barely had time to emerge before another merman pulled himself onto the beach and began asking questions. 

“See, this is why I asked him to come. Joe’s fascinated by the human world. Even swam under a glass bottom boat tryin to get a look at some tourists. Which was real dangerous.”

“You didn’t seem to mind  disciplining me for it” Joseph shoots a smile at the other mer, then continues his examination of Indrid’s camera.

With black hair, blue eyes, and a stunning white and black tail, Joseph is the most handsome man Barclay’d ever seen. Later, when he had to explain the fact he was attracted to both him and Indrid, he’d say that the difference in his boyfriends was like the difference between being fed by a classically trained French chef and Spanish chef pushing the boundaries of molecular gastronomy; radically different, but equally amazing.

Joseph, inquisitive and clever, began asking to see them whenever he could. Barclay started bringing food down for Joseph to try, played him movies on his phone, and fell harder for him whenever he laughed or smiled or made a bad pun. 

Some nights Duck, Indrid, or both joined them. Other nights it was just the two of them and water, Joseph lazily waving his tail back and forth as they talked. One evening, he dragged it across Barclay’s legs by accident and the human wasn’t quick enough in hiding his reaction.

“Should I do that again?”

“S-sure.” 

“Can I kiss you at the same time?”

“Yes! No, fuck, wait we, we need to talk to Indrid and Duck about this.”

“I suspect they won’t mind, but you’re right. We’ll take a rain check, big guy. And please pass me that cake.”

In addition to his other good qualities, Joseph has the most sophisticated palates of anyone, mer or human, Barclay knows. As in he can taste the notes of blackberry or chocolate that a wine label insists are there but Barclay can only sort of get a hint of. Barclay once bought him a sampler box of expensive wines, cooked oysters over a driftwood fire, and hand fed both to Joseph as he moaned and wiggled with delight, outlining in no uncertain terms what he’d do for Barclay as a thank you.

(He still can’t look at a bottle of white wine without blushing)

That means Barclay has to make something that's as sweet and sophisticated as the mer himself. Ripe peaches tickle his nose. He grabs his copy of Dessert for All Seasons, flipping to summer with a smile. 

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

“Okay, so” Barclay sets the bags down on the picnic blanket, “I, uh, I decided making one sweet thing wasn’t enough. I know that’s kinda silly but you three are so fucking important to me I wanted to do this right.”

“Doubt you’ll get any complaints from mr. sweet tooth.” Duck smirks. Indrid, lounging in linen shorts a moth patterned Hawaiin shirt, sticks his tongue out. The mer just blows him a kiss in response. 

“And there’s no need to apologize for being thoughtful.” Joseph drapes his tail over Ducks, “it’s one of your best traits.”

“Thanks, babe. Uh, so, Indrid, this is for you.” He lifts the pie plate from the ice chest, “it’s pineapple cream with vanilla whipped cream on top.”

“I love you.” Indrid takes the dish with wide-eyed appreciation. 

“Duck, these are for you.”

“Oh hell yeah, pretzels. Wait, is this-”

“French onion soup dip? Yep.”

“I’m gonna eat the hell outta this.”

“And, uh” he slides the cake carrier towards Joseph, “I found a recipe for a peaches and cream Prosecco cake. Hope you like it.” 

Joseph lifts the lid, licks his lips, then pushes the carrier into the center of blanket so he can roll and put his head in Barclay’s lap.

“You’re the best.”

“Indeed. Which is why we have something for you as well.” Indrid stands, stepping over Duck and then eeping when the mer gently whacks his ass with his tail. When he returns (stopping to bend down a pinch the sensitive upper back of said tail), it’s with the cake carrier Barclay looked everywhere for earlier today.

Beneath the pink plastic lid is a cake coated in milk chocolate frosting.

“‘Drid said this was the one you made yourself for your birthday.” 

“Oh fuck, the chocolate malt one?”

“The very same. We had to get a bit creative cooking it; Joseph suggested making the layers  in cast iron over a fire, which worked well. After all, we didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

The frosting message of “happy one year anniversary” gets a little blurry, and he wipes his eyes, “this is so fucking sweet, you guys.”

“You deserve it.” Joseph kisses his hand as Indrid rests his head on his shoulder, Duck scooching over to lay across Indrid’s lap. 

Barclay smiles, “We all do.”

[sp00kworm]

The Deep Dark (Gang Orca x Gender Neutral Reader)

A/N: I love and would die for Gang Orca in his save the whales shirt thank you. Also cross-posted on AO3!

----

Kuugo sighed at the wall of the glass tank, watching the fish, they eyed his intimidating form each time they got close before scattering off back around to the reef. They seemed to forget he was there each time and quickly shoaled back around before escaping again in a flicker of silver. He was too wrapped up in his own head. He’d been invited to this aquarium to do an introduction piece for the patrons, yet all he got was wide eyed looks and terrified children bawling as he took to the stage, dressed in his suit jacket with a ‘save the whales’ t-shirt underneath. He thought the shirt was cute. The stylist even assured him it made him look much softer! Evidently the children did not agree. They agreed even less so when he creaked the wood of the stage and smiled, sharp teeth exposed and cape flapping as he opened his clawed hands in a pose.

 “Mama! He’s going to eat me!” One boy cried into his mother’s legs, hiding his head behind her thigh as Gang Orca rumbled about the growing whale populations in the oceans.

“Papa!” A girl sobbed into her dad’s shoulder, and even the father himself didn’t look far from running himself as Kuugo gestured a clawed, black hand to the ribbon. He was quick to bow and snip the ribbon open before sighing in a cascade of clicks and growls, moving inside the building and out of sight of the crying children.

“Mama I don’t want to go inside with the monster!” Another boy screeched. Gang Orca simply sighed inside the door, wetting his hands and rubbing the palms over the curve of his head, rehydrating the thick skin with a grumble, ducking inside the back rooms to get rid of his work costume.

 If he couldn’t make the kids happy, then at least he could enjoy the cool temperatures and the sights of the aquarium. Maybe he should abandon hope of ever being the sight of a hero instead of a monster? Kuugo grumbled as he looked at his charity shirt, dressed down in expensive jeans and some expensive trainers. He didn’t exactly look like the rest of the people packed in here for a day out with their children or partners, but he didn’t mind getting a few looks. Red eyes stared back at him as he fastened his watch and reached back to push at his strong dorsal fin. The killer whale male reached for his bottle of water and rubbed his wet, clawed hand over his head, grumbling softly before pushing two bottles into his back pockets. If it got a little warm, he would no doubt need them while in the crowds.

 Now he was stood staring at the shoals inside the deepest tank. Little reef sharks swam past, eyes rolling and eyelids fluttering at him as he glared with red eyes into the tank. He looked just as intimidating without the cape and white suit, and Kuugo reached to pluck at the tight t-shirt over his chest. There was no doubting his profession really. Well, maybe his scary persona would mean children thought he was a villain, but his physique gave him away in all honesty. Still, as he looked around, he realised the quivering hero fans were simply too scared to come and talk to him. Good, he thought, as he gazed at the deeper little stone reefs, the tropical fish swarming around something that had appeared within one of the coral pieces. He didn’t much feel like talking after his humiliation on stage. Kids were a poor audience for him it seemed. Maybe a room full of adults would have fared better against his intimidating disposition? He could only wonder as he gazed at a baby shark. It was small, not very old, and captured the attention of the children a little further down the corridor.

“Ah, excuse me, sir? Can I squeeze in next to you? They said the baby shark was coming past.” A soft voice broke him from his grumpy ramblings in his own head.

 You had no idea that a pro-hero was in attendance of this new aquarium opening day until Gang Orca had climbed on the stage. He was just as intimidating as the polls said, but you watched him shuffle a speech on the stand and shift from foot to foot in his charity t-shirt, grumbling excitedly about the projects underway to protect the ocean life around Japan. He seemed a lot less threatening then, in his whale shirt with a love heart, and an embarrassed blush on his face as the kids cried. It was heart breaking, but he seemed to get it together quickly and professionally. The ribbon was cut and he disappeared before you could ask him about anything, but you figured it was probably to hide from the multitude of crying children in the audience and their unnerved parents. It was a little but rude, but people would be people after all.

 The pro-hero jumped at the brush of your hand against his back, red eyes blinking before he tilted his head to peer down at you. He wasn’t hugely tall, not in the way All Might was, but standing at six foot six inches, he had plenty of height over most normal humans, quirks or no quirks, “Of course.” He replied, stepping back and to the side to let you slip in front of him as the baby shark came past, mouth open, baby fangs glinting as it watched the people press up against the glass. It was an inquisitive little monster. Gang Orca watched with a quirk in his snout, smiling with teeth that made the children walking past clutch their mothers’ hands.

“Oh, he’s so cute!” You pressed a hand to the glass, turning your head to watch the shark whizz around the next viewing window with a bright smile, “Thank you for letting me see, sir.”

Kuugo nodded his head, “Its not a problem…And the sir isn’t necessary.” He reached for his tie, only to remember it wasn’t there, and instead searched for something to do with his claws.

“I…” You took a breath and turned, notebook in hand, “I really liked your speech about the ocean projects going on, even if the kids didn’t.”

 The killer whale felt his face go hot underneath his thick skin, the blood colouring his cheeks with a blush you didn’t think was possible, “Thank you. I only wish the kids had liked it too.” He huffed, blow hole snorting air as he tucked his clawed hands into his pockets.

“I’m serious. It was really good!” You smiled at the intimidating male and pointed into the tank, “Would you like someone to walk around with, Sir?”

Kuugo eyed you with his piercing gaze, bright red eyes ringed in black, “I told you, Sir isn’t necessary...Kuugo is fine or Sakamata.” He grumbled before turning on his heels, mouth open in a small smile, “Come then, there is a display of the realistic size of the blue whale. It is impressive.”

“I had no idea! It must be a pretty big place. I might end up being here all day after all!” You laughed and the hero nodded his head, ducking past some more children as quickly as he could.

“Yes. Come then, I will show you the exhibits the charity donated towards.” Kuugo lead you through a set of double doors before ducking through himself, dorsal fin catching on the top as he moved through.

 The blue whale replica was huge. It was suspended from the ceiling, hanging immovable, great eyes peering at the tanks on the walls. You gazed upwards in awe of the model before Kuugo laughed, taking you over to a tank full of coral. Seahorses bobbed in the water calmly, wiggling between plants and kelp with careful precision.

“These were taken from a few places among the kelps near to Australia. Fishermen often scoop them out for kids aquariums. Hateful practice.” Gang Orca pushed a claw to the tank and the sea horses bobbed closer before swimming back to their food.

“I had no idea they did things like that.” You observed as he pointed to the name plates.

“They were all in a bucket on a little boat. The charity took them and rehomed them here. Many were injured with pieces of wire stuck around them.” He smiled at them, glad the little seahorses were back to full health and eating. They had been extremely ill the last time the charity workers had shown him around their working labs and rehabilitation centre. Kuugo was comforted by their recovery, as small as it may seem.

 “What about those?” You took his clawed hand in your own, unfazed, tugging the pro-hero along to the next large tank. It was full of thriving corals and little feeding fish. The balance was there to feed the fish and help the coral grow better by keeping them pest free.

“Much the same. A little fishing boat was caught stealing the fish and corals. They are here to live out their days in safety.” He answered coolly as you turned the flash off your phone to take a picture of the little feeding fish.

“This is all so amazing, Kuugo!” You cheered next to him, “What about the next thing? Eels?” The tank was dark until you peered at the bottom. There in the rocks were eels of all sizes, writhing out of their holes in the rocks and crockery in the bottom of their tank. They sat with their mouths open, staring back at you as you watched them wiggle.

Gang Orca huffed a laugh behind you at your shuddering, rubbing at his head, water shining on his great hands as he shook his head side to side.

 “Eels, yes. Other than them being rather boring, they live a long time, and enjoy doing that…gawking thing.” He leaned over, peering into the tank with a snort of his blowhole, clawed fingers pressed to the glass, “I don’t know a lot about them. Those deep-sea ones are practically immortal?” He huffed to himself, clicking at the back of his teeth as he gazed upwards at the blue whale model, “I will have to find out more information about those for next time.” He nodded to himself seriously.

You snickered at the pro-hero, “Don’t worry! I can just read the information placue.”

Kuugo blushed as he leaned over to squint at the information, “Ah, yes, I forgot about those.” He confessed quietly before leaning over your shoulder to read the information about the writhing eels as well, “Though I appear to have been far off the mark, hm?” He scratched at his dorsal fin before leaning back, giving you room to look into the tank again.

“Not too far off I’m sure, Kuugo. We all can’t know everything!”

He chuckled again and smiled with sharp teeth in his snout, “Right you are…Ah. How rude. I forgot to ask your name?”

You laughed at him, introducing yourself properly before listening to the killer whale softly say your name to himself.

“Come on then, Kuugo! You still have the whole aquarium to show me!” You cheering made him smile again, hands tucked in his pockets before you looped your arm through his own.

 At some point during the walk around, the children stopped running from his intimidating aura, instead rushing to ask him questions about his fins and the clicks he could produce.

“Children, please. I am trying to tell this kind-“

“IS THAT YOUR DATE MISTER WHALE?!” A little girl asked before gasping and rushing away to her mother.

“No that is not….”

“Mister Orca is on a date! We better go!”

“ORCA-SAN HAS A DATE?!”

They were quick to rush from his legs, little hands finding their parents’ again before they began chattering about how kind the pro-hero was. He grumbled and leaned down to let the girl off his shoulders. She too giggled, gazing between the both of you before rushing back to her father.

 “This is not a date.” He grunted, looking back at you with narrowed, red eyes.

“I know, Kuugo. But kids will be kids.” You linked your arms again and the pro-hero simply looked down before moving on, ushering you towards the exit with a huff and a wheeze.

“Excuse me for a moment.” He paused to uncap his water, dripping some into his hand before rubbing it over the thick skin of his head, slicking it with moisture before sighing through his mouth, blow hole closed tight.

“You know… Maybe the next one could be a date?” You teased as you scribbled your number on a piece of scrap paper. Kuugo felt his mouth drop open as you reached the exit, his clawed fingers taking the paper shakily.

“You would like to go out with me?” He was bewildered, “Even looking like…”

“Looking like a very handsome man?” You teased before taking his hand, “I would like to get to know you better and go out again yes!”

Kuugo’s sharp teeth snapped closed, “Then I will contact you…My schedule is busy but I will make time for this, I promise.”

“I expect nothing less from a pro-hero.” You teased, leaning up to kiss the man’s cheek, “Thank you for today. I would have been lost without my guide.”

“You are welcome.” He bowed his head, embarrassed as he watched you flounce away.

 “MAMA THE WHALE IS GOING TO EAT ME!!”

 He cringed and made a dash for his car and chauffeur. It seemed your lack of presence had turned the kids against him once again.

[transform-or-treat]

Treat from Anonymous!

Treat for @synthesizeher!  Your gifter wanted to remain anonymous but they really hope you enjoy this!

Prompt: "G1 Dinobots and the Technobots, Halloween Fun, Grimlock tries to take the Technobots out for their first trick or treat, cue disastrous costumes and jumpscares and candy trading" for @synthesizeher on Tumblr.

"They're asleep," Grimlock said, coming to sit beside his conjunx. Misfire sighed and draped himself across the Dinobot's lap, wings twitching with exhaustion. Grimlock rumbled in amusement and started rubbing his back. "I've been thinking…," he said softly. "Mhm?" Misfire asked, optics closed in bliss, giving him however much time he needed to order his words. "I want them to have more Earth culture. I am from there." "Did you have anything specific in mind?" Grimlock tilted his head, considering. "There are so many festivals." "You could ask the Witwickys." Grimlock grinned behind his mask and leaned down to nuzzle the back of his conjunx' neck. "You have the best ideas." "Halloween!" Daniel cheered. "I'm going to be Lance from Voltron." Grimlock made an inquisitive noise. "Halloween is when you dress up as other people and go knock on people's doors and ask for candy by saying 'trick or treat!'," Daniel explained, grinning. "The better your costume, the more candy you get." Lightspeed shared an excited look with Afterburner. "I call Buzz Lightyear!" Wheeljack laughed and stood from the seat where he had been lounging. "Guess I'll be dusting off the old tools of the trade." "You don't have to do that, Ri," Grimlock protested. Misfire nodded. "We'll just use temp paint." Wheeljack spluttered. "Nonsense! You have to really get into the spirit of the holiday! Alright, kiddos, give me your requests!" The Technobots all started babbling over each other in excitement. Very carefully, Scattershot approached his grandcreator and tugged on his arm. Wheeljack leaned down, tilting his audial as the Technobot leader whispered. His optics crinkled at the corners as he grinned. "You got it, kiddo." "Okay, hold still," Wheeljack said, as he carefully pinned the steel wool he had lovingly spun and woven into the kind of fabric Cybertron hadn't seen since the Golden Age. "How come you know all this stuff?" Nosecone asked, staying indeed extremely still. "I used to live on a cybersheep farm," Wheeljack said, his fins flashing cheerfully. "It was my great-great-great-grandsire's farm. We had sheep and zap-ponies and mineral fields and an energon distillery." "Can you teach me?" "Maybe. I don't know, I still like science better. But I am the only one who still knows this stuff, as far as I'm aware, so I probably should pass it on." "It's okay," Nosecone said. "You don't have to decide right now." Wheeljack chuckled and patted his hand. "I appreciate that, kiddo. Alright," he said, rocking back, "that ought to do it. Just gotta get it all sewn together, and then all the costumes are ready." Nosecone grinned as Wheeljack helped him out of his costume. "Did you get to make the visor?" "Yep, but no lasers, okay? It's a safety risk." Nosecone nodded solemnly. "I understand." Grimlock chuckled as he watched his creations file out of Wheeljack's back room. Lightspeed zoomed out the door, shouting "To infinity - and beyond!" Strafe followed at a slightly more sedate speed, but that was due to the long "mustache" that reached almost to his feet and the giant oversized hat that was nearly as tall as he was than anything else. He swung toy pistols from his hips. "Pew, pew, pew! I'm the fastest gun north, south, east, and west of Ibex! Pew, pew!" Grimlock smiled and nudged Misfire over their bond. He's a better shot than you. Misfire collapsed into giggles, losing it even more as a suction cupped foam dart hit him between the optics. Strafe grinned sheepishly. "Oops." "Raaaarrrr!" Afterburner screeched, jumping out, completely enclosed in some kind of monster costume. "Radiation breath! Radiation breath!" Grimlock laughed. "See, I told you the radiation breath could be invisible and still work!" Nosecone called, adjusting the yellow sash over his blue jumpsuit. "I don't have any eye lasers cause that would be a safety risk." Misfire and Grimlock nodded solemnly, then waited for Scattershot to make his appearance. There was a crash from the workshop. "Everything alright?" Grimlock shouted. "Fine!" Wheeljack called back. "Just forgot a very important costume element!" Another few minutes passed, and then Scattershot burst out of the door, dressed in silver, red, and yellow, and waving an orange sword in the air. "Me Grimlock, King!" Grimlock's jaw nearly hit the floor, and Misfire's optics just about bulged out of his faceplates. Scattershot yelped as the Tyrannosaurus Rex head on top of his helm slid down, covering his vision. He pushed it back up and grinned sheepishly. "Do you like it?" Grimlock laughed and scooped his creation up into his arms. "I love it!" He looked up as his creator walked out, hands still covered in various shades of orange paint. "You did a good job, Ri. What do we say, sparklings?" "Thank you, Grand-carrier!" the Technobots chorused. "Are we ready to go trick or treating?" Grimlock asked. The excited yells that earned him were nearly deafening. They met the Witwickys outside the Earth embassy. "Here!" Daniel called, waving. "I made a list of everybody I know for sure will give us candy. We've got to get these guys first so we have something to snack on." Nosecone rushed over to review the list and come up with a plan of attack. "Are you ready for your first Halloween as parents?" Carly asked, eyes sparkling. Grimlock crouched down to greet her and made a non-committal hum. "As much as we can be." Carly laughed. "Sounds about right." "How long are we staying out for?" Misfire asked, putting a hand on Grimlock's back as he straightened. Spike shrugged. "A joor maybe? We want the kids to have fun but not get overtired. At the very least, we'll be able to hit everyone on Daniel's list. First I think is Rodimus." He raised his voice to carry over the sound of excited younglings. "Everyone ready to go?" A chorus of affirmatives rang out, and the party slowly moved down the broad street that ran in front of the embassy. They didn't head to the Primal Palace or the Senate Hall like most would to meet the Prime, instead with the privilege granted to them as friends, they strolled leisurely to a nondescript apartment in what was decidedly a middle-class neighborhood. Bluestreak answered the door and promptly fell over himself laughing. "Radiation breath!" Afterburner yelled, pointing at the giggling Praxian. "No!" Bluestreak yelled, clutching his spark. "Not radiation breath! I'm dying - I'm melting - tell Rodimus… I love him. Blergh!" Afterburner stared in shock, then glanced at his creators, completely out of his depth. "Trick - Trick or treat?" "A trick!" Bluestreak sat up with a shout and grabbed Afterburner, fingers diving for ticklish seams. The Technobot collapsed in fits of laughter, pouring sheer delight down the bond with his brothers. Rodimus stepped out into the doorway and laughed at what he found. "Alright, alright," he said, patting his Conjunx Potentia on the head. "Who wants candy?" He made quick work of passing out energon goodies, chocolate, and compliments on the children's costumes and then dragged Bluestreak back inside. "They're trying to have a baby," Daniel said when everyone looked confused at the normally affable Prime's hurry. "Rodimus told me cause he wants me to be an uncle." The parents exchanged knowing glances. "Oh," Scattershot said, as if that explained everything. "Well who's next on the list?" Ultra Magnus turned out to be next, peering out at the Technobots through a comically large door. He gave each sparkling precisely two goodies, and Daniel precisely two goodie-sized chocolate bars. "An excellent choice of costume," he congratulated Lightspeed and Nosecone. "Peacekeepers are always noteworthy." "Especially when they're corrupt," Misfire interjected, smiling saccharinely. "Then you have to watch them to make sure they don't hurt you or your friends." Ultra Magnus stared at him for a moment, then wisely chose not to engage any further. "As you say," he said, and then closed the door. "Why don't you hurry on ahead?" Grimlock asked, putting a hand on his conjunx' lower back. Carly nodded and she and Spike gathered the children together and started walking. Grimlock waited until they were out of sight before dragging him into an alley. "We will never let what happened to Cybertron before happen to our children," he promised. "You weren't there," Misfire snapped, attempting a rare dig at his partner's age. "Stop that," Grimlock chided him. "That doesn't mean I don't know it was wrong. It just means I don't know what it was like to live it." Misfire sighed and shuttered his optics, burying his face in Grimlock's chestplates. They caught up to the others just outside of Jazz and Prowl's hab, and the Technobots immediately swarmed Misfire with hugs. Grimlock eyed the walkway suspiciously, something off about the serene look to it - tall crystal trees and soft tingrass, a path made of Earthen bricks that cracked beneath Cybertronian feet. "Everything alright?" Spike asked. Grimlock huffed and shook his head. "Yes," he answered. But he couldn't help but be on edge as they walked up to the door. He did have to admit the brick was an effective early warning system. Out of curiosity, he started counting the number of footsteps he could hear, tapping out the number on his fingertips. One, two, three, five, seven, the humans made barely a sound but they were there, and eleven. Wait. He stopped, turned around, sword drawn. With a yell, Scattershot ran back and started attacking something with his own little sword, leaving streaks of orange paint on - "Argh! I have been vanquished by a ferocious beast!" Mirage's electrodisruptor cut out as he fell to the path, pretending at a mortal wound. Scattershot huffed and pushed up the slipping dinosaur head. "I'm not a ferocious beast! I'm sa! Afterburner's a ferocious beast!" "Radiation breath!" the sparkling in question screeched as he pounced on the former spy, followed quickly by the rest of his brothers. "What are you doing?" a voice called from the door. Mirage was too busy wrestling the sparklings to answer, so Misfire opened his mouth to step in. "It was my idea, Prowler." Misfire shrieked and turned around, unsubspacing a gun to shoot the enemy that had appeared out of thin air. True to form, he missed, the bolt being absorbed by a crystal instead. Prowl surveyed the disheveled party and sighed. "Well, come get your candy." The Technobots shouted with joy and quickly abandoned Mirage for the treats. Jazz reached down to help his former second to his feet and grinned. "You look good covered in younglings." Mirage smiled and put his haughty airs back on like a cloak, patting Jazz' cheek affectionately. "You're getting ahead of yourself, darling." The human adults stared open-mouthed as Mirage sauntered up to the door and greeted Prowl with a kiss before sashaying inside, then turned to Jazz for an explanation, much more shocked at the idea of him and Prowl and Mirage than the idea of three. Jazz simply grinned and shrugged. "Towers courting. What can you do?" "Look!" Lightspeed called, running up with a small toy car. "We get one of these, too!" "Did you say thank you?" Grimlock asked. Lightspeed darted back away to do exactly that. Jazz patted Misfire's arm sheepishly. "Sorry about the scare, man." Misfire did what any Scavenger in their right mind would do and bolted for the goodie bowl. Grimlock chuckled at his conjunx, glad to see he was back to himself. Kup was next on Daniel's list, and he laughed at Scattershot's costume, patting the dino head. "You're gonna grow up to be just like your creator, huh?" "I hope so!" Scattershot said, grabbing handfuls of goodies out of Kup's bowl. Grimlock beamed at his eldest and leaned down for helm pats from Kup for himself, sneaking a goodie or two for himself while he was at it. Springer and Arcee were last on the list, and the Amica pair were waiting out on the stoop of their townhouse, dressed up in costumes themselves, though not as well-made as the ones from Wheeljack. Springer leapt to his feet and pointed imperiously at Afterburner as they walked up. "There can be only one!" Afterburner gave a mighty battle cry, and then the two Godzillas were dueling for supremacy. Grimlock was pleased to notice Afterburner was winning. Arcee laughed as she bounded over, spinning so her skirts flared out. "Isn't this fun, Grim?" Grimlock beamed under his mask at his friend. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to the gauzy fabric. "Just some princess," Arcee said, waving her hand. "She routinely gets captured by a giant lizard, but Springer didn't want to be that giant lizard." She grinned. "She kicks aft in the PVP games, though." Grimlock nodded, not having a clue what she was on about. "Suits you." Misfire grinned at her, bowing playfully. "You do look excellent, m'lady." Arcee giggled. It was disturbingly similar to the slightly maniacal cackle she gave in the middle of combat. "Radiation breath!" Afterburner yelled at the very top of his volume threshold. Springer cried out in mock pain and fell to the ground, defeated. Afterburner put a foot on his back and put his arms up in victory. "I am the one true Godzilla-aaaaa!" Grimlock chuckled, but then gestured the Technobots nearer. "Last stop," he said, "get your candy and give Auntie hugs, and then it's time for bed." There was a chorus of disappointed groans. "That's okay, guys!" Daniel said. "We still get to do this again next year!" Mollified, the Technobots formed an orderly line for goodies and hugs from Arcee, and then trooped on home. "Can I keep my costume on?" Scattershot asked. "Me, too!" Afterburner piped up from where he was trading candy with Nosecone and Lightspeed. Strafe had already shucked off his giant mustache and was working on the boots. Grimlock and Misfire shared a look and then shrugged in unison. "Sure, why not?" Scattershot bounded over to wrap his arms around Grimlock's knees. "Love you." Grimlock smiled and squeezed his creation back before tapping him gently on the shoulder. "Two goodies and then time for recharge." The Technobots rushed to consume their chosen treats and finish up their trading, and then they filed orderly into berth, already pleasantly exhausted by the outing. Grimlock and Misfire each took an end of the row of berths and started giving last hugs and kisses of the night. Meeting back at the door, they looked back over their creations. Grimlock turned off the light and closed the door, and then he pulled his conjunx close for a kiss. "Thank you."

Costumes: Scattershot - Grimlock Strafe - Yosemite Sam Lightspeed - Buzz Lightyear Afterburner - Godzilla Nosecone - Cyclops (X-MEN) Arcee - Princess Peach Springer - Godzilla

[lephilodi]

Lephilodi Bio

Appearance:

Lephilodi is an 8ft tall lavender-skinned ulitharid. Her eyes shift between pearly white and silver, and they do have a white eye shine in the dark. Lephi has two rounded ear fins on the side of her head. Her tentacles are around six to eight inches long after being cut off, and aren't able to wholly hide her lamprey mouth. Because of that, Lephi frequently wears a veil-like mask on the lower part of her face. She prefers to wear thick white robes that hide her thin form, and her hood has a pretty deep cowl. Lephilodi also wears a small resonance stone around her neck that exudes calm emotions. Her skin doesn't secrete the normal mucus that most illithids have as she mostly consumes chocolate, at least for the necessary enzymes. She does still need brains every once in a while to keep up her psionics. But because of this, she has to find other ways to stay hydrated. Lephi's telepathic voice comes across as more feminine than most of her kin. It is for the most part gentle, but still holds some of the air of authority she had back when she lived at her colony.

Backstory:

Lephilodi was born in Zar’derol, a mid-sized illithid colony in the Faerunian Underdark. Her being born an ulitharid was a huge boon to her colony considering how rare they are in Underdark. During that time, Lephi took on a lot of different roles, depending on what was expected of her, and became quite adept at handling almost any aspect of the colony. This both pleased and annoyed the resident Elder Brain, as it tended to be more authoritarian and controlling in nature. Outside of her responsibilities, Lephilodi was the foremost researcher on anything to do with nautiloids and spacefaring. She was frequently assisted by a much younger illithid artificer by the name of Dansskar. Lephi also joined inquisitions on more than one occasion.

It was during one of these inquisitions that Lephilodi and her kin were attacked by a group of powerful adventurers. While her kin were slaughtered, Lephi managed to escape to a nearby cave system, but quickly fell unconscious thanks to her deep wounds and blood loss. Surprisingly, she did awake again, to a human of all creatures kneeling next to her. Only after a moment of pure fear did she realize the human was finishing pouring a healing potion down her throat, making some of her wounds close, but it was not nearly enough to get her back on her feet. So Lephilodi silently regarded this odd human for days as he helped her heal. But during this time, the human introduced himself as a minister of Ao, the overgod. He explained many things during this time, with no prompting at all. From his religion, to humanity, to emotions. He even tried to teach Lephi about empathy, but it really didn’t stick.

Lephilodi left that cave once she was healed, pondering the encounter with the minister while she searched for a meal. She came across a burning human settlement, and a lone man on his knees at the center of it, who did not flee at her presence. The man offered no resistance as he was consumed, Lephi receiving an onslaught of his recent memories. This man had lost everything: his family killed by Gnolls, village razed by a dragon, and neighbors enslaved by the Drow. It was then when Lephi finally started to understand what the minister was talking about: empathy.

Lephilodi finally returned to Zar'derol, but very slowly found it harder and harder to stomach the atrocities that the colony's thralls were put through on a daily basis. Lephi stopped her own experiments with thralls and slowly, over several years, started to adopt the mindset that cooperation with other races could be the key to the colonies' prosperity. However, as this came to the attention of the Elder Brain, it became enraged at the concept, demanding Lephilodi abandon this way of thinking immediately.

Lephilodi refused and fought back for her ideals. Thus, the resident Elder Brain decided she would be punished in a singular act of cruelty. After Lephi was weakened and restrained, Erebossk, another illithid of high rank in the colony and a nasty piece of work, took great delight in removing his rival's facial tentacles with a hot blade. With that done, Lephi was exiled from the colony with the intention that she would slowly, painfully starve to death.

However, Lephilodi did not leave without taking her revenge. She stole every piece of literature regarding nautiloids, including schematics and star maps. The only thing she couldn't take with her were Dansskar's projects. Now she was on the run, and Lephilodi spent some time in Mantol Derith with the Society of Brilliance, working with Grazil'axx for a while. This is when she discovered chocolate provides the same nutritional value as grey matter, aside from the lack of psionic energy. But it was only a matter of time before attempts were made on her life by more than one inquisition from her old colony. Thankfully, with help from her allies, or her own psionic might, she was able to defeat them, but it became more and more difficult.

Lephilodi knew she couldn't stay in the Underdark for much longer, so she made her way to the surface, where the winds of fate had kicked up a strange vortex of coincidence. As she made her way out of the deep cave system, she once again came upon the minister of Ao that had once cared for her. He gifted her with a set of cleric robes, and Lephilodi began her journey on the surface, not staying in any one place for too long. She used this time to study humanoid sociology and psychology, using that knowledge to keep herself alive and out of harm's way. After settling in the haunted dwarven fortress of Axeholm, she was one day awoken by an adventuring party, who offered her a place with them.

Lephilodi initially refused their offer, but can't help but be intrigued by the youngsters. They might make good meat shields against the next inquisition. What happens next is anyone's guess.

Relationships:

Party: Meat shields/food source???

Dansskar: Pretends not to miss him, actually misses him a lot. Son/younger brother dynamic.

Erebossk: *Two middle fingers* <Piece of sh**!!>

Colony: Sour

[finduir-runebrook]

Makeshift Inboxing!

((Thanks for letting me know my Asks weren’t on, lol <3))

P: Personality

1.) What is their best personality trait?

“Oh, well I suppose I would have to say it’s my inquisitive nature! That’s appealing, isn’t it? Or I could just go ahead and say I’m kind. 

You know what, let’s go with that!”

((In Fin’s case, I think a great deal of what that kindness involves (his generous spirit, a supportive nature) comes from a place of considerable empathy. That would really be his best, or most positive trait.))

2.) What is their worst personality trait?

“I’m... forgetful, sometimes? Occasionally a bit loud- though I really don’t mean to be...

Oh, I’ve got it! I tend to get distracted, and I’ll wind up tripping over things. Seems there’s never a shortage of boots or crates or... small children... stray cats... always underfoot, I swear,” the mage huffs, ceasing his animated explanation in favour of patting down his vest, soon producing a sleek, silver flask from an inner pocket.

((His rampant dependence on drink is probably the biggest drawback in his personality, if we can attribute alcoholism to a personality flaw. More likely, it’s what he feels is his deep cowardice; there’s a reason he drinks, and a reason he hasn’t ever been able to stay in one place for very long. He would be reluctant to name this, however!))

3.) What of their personality do others love?

“That’s a heavy question, isn’t it? What might someone else ~love~ about me?” A soft, subdued smile disappears behind a sip, thoughtful for the moment, with eyes unfocused. The silence then slowly stretches on, awkward and shifty as the seconds tick by. Did he forget the question? “...My insatiable appetite for split-second decisions,” he suddenly blurts out, the pad of a thumb swiping at the corner of his crooked mouth.  ((Finduir has a knack for humourous hot takes, and an odd, but welcoming nature that people tend to respond well to. There’s a sort of personal charm there that they would likely call his best feature.))

4.) What of their personality do others envy?

“Gods help us... ‘envy’ is such a strong choice of words,” he ponders aloud, with no small amount of wryness to it.  “I suppose it could come with the territory of having this education or that... one-time home life, but that has more to do with circumstance.” Lithe fingers fiddle absently with a tiny nick in the edge of an ivory button on the edge of his overcoat, running over it again and again as he thought.  “I don’t know... perhaps that I’ve an outstanding vocabulary? Call it a quick tongue?” he offers with a tiny smirk, slender shoulders shrugging lightly.  ((These might actually be traits others would envy in Finduir, I think! This or his resilience, for those who get to know him well!))

5.) Do they hate anything about their personality/about others’ personalities?

“I could probably stand to be better with this, but... we all have our vices,” he proclaims with a flick of a wrist, the silver flask in his hand catching the light. 

“That or I could stand to be a little less... anxious, perhaps. As for others...” he pauses, lips pursed. “Nihilists. There is so much more going on in the world than we ever think to imagine, and to claim otherwise- to cease to look for meaning- is kind of ridiculous.

Here I go, waxing philosophical on you. Are we done here?”

((His latent paranoia often gets the better of him, which he attributes further to his ‘cowardly’ failings in dealing with his own lot in life. He’s not a fan, in that insidious, self-loathing way. He’s also not a fan of unchecked greed, or needless self-denial. He likes a good time as much as the next guy!

Thanks, @gloamingdawn! <3))

[mintyjin]

mermaid au: changkyun

two posts in one night? I must be catching ill

the thing about small seaside villages is that they always have a story

one particular legend or fable that has been passed through generation after generation 

regardless of proof- or a lack of proof- some stories exist to be told in hushed voices over crackling fires

one such legend is that of the mermaid

they’re said to be tricksters, having lured many a sailor with the promise of gold, silver, or love only to leave them cold, wet, and penniless on an unknown beach 

mermaids aren’t hated, necessarily, at least not in your town,

but they are feared

for all the talk and fear, however, you’ve never actually seen any evidence that mermaids exist 

and if they did, who’s to say that each would be as bad as the stories you’ve heard? 

you choose not to let it bother you, instead focusing your energy on the things you know to be true, the things you can prove- these are the things that warrant your attention 

which is why you end up on the rocky shore one day instead of taking lunch at your usual place

the steady crash of waves against the algae-strewn rocks helps you clear your head and focus

but then you hear something a little out of place 

a low groan, almost pained

and then a series of quick splashes 

to your right is a small cove where the rocks make a sort of semicircle in the sand

sometimes, dolphins will ride the high tide into the cove and get stuck when the tide lowers

you’ve never heard a dolphin groan before, but you still get up and look down into the cove to see if that’s what you heard 

it’s not a dolphin. that’s for sure

you see a large tail of dark green and grey scales twisting and straining against a rock that has it pinned down

and attached to that tail is a human torso and head

you gasp, apparently audibly 

the creature below turns their head up to see you

for a minute, neither of you move

then, he snarls and continues struggling and pushing against the rock, the end of his tail smacking against the shallow water

and you know that your parents would surely kill you and think you stupid, but you can’t just leave him

you gradually, cautiously make your way down the rocks and into the cove 

the mermaid (merman?) flinches when he hears you approach from behind him, whipping his face around and glaring in your direction 

startled, you hold up your hands, showing you weren’t holding anything. “I just want to help,” you say

his glare doesn’t falter even as a slight breeze blows his dark hair over one eye, but he makes no move to stop you from moving so that you stand not even three inches from his tail

and now that you’re closer to him, you see that the legends were right about at least one thing

he’s beautiful 

you also see how he ended up in this situation to begin with

his tail was pushed into a crevice in the floor of the cove by the rock

the only way to get out is to move the rock

“I’m going to push it that way,” you say, gesturing to the rock and pointing to your right, “You need to move left as soon as you can, ok?” 

his expression doesn’t change at all

you sigh and take in a deep breath. “One, two, three, augh!” 

you shove the rock with all your strength and, to your credit, it works. the rock is gone

but when you said, “...move left as soon as you can,” you didn’t mean like this 

his tail had snapped up immediately and crashed into your leg with enough force to knock you down

your hands instinctively fly to shield your face as you collide with the rough floor of the cove 

wincing, you look at your hand and see blood

great.

the sensation of a fin on your leg reminds you of a more pressing matter at hand and you turn to see the merman staring at you

well, staring at your injured hand, to be exact 

and you’re a little unnerved because while you’ve never heard of a mermaid craving blood, it wouldn’t not fit with the rest of the stories 

he motions for you to approach him and you’re like.... no

and he just rolls his eyes and grabs your arm, pulling you closer to him and taking your injured hand in his

before you can ask what he’s doing, he’s put his mouth over the wound, his lips soft against your skin

you feel his tongue run softly over the cut 

and ordinarily you would wrench your hand away and yell at the perpetrator of such nonsense 

but you gradually feel the sting of the cut wash away as he does whatever it is he’s doing, so you allow it

and when he pulls his mouth away, the only trace of the accident is a small white line running down your palm

“Thank you,” you say, breathless

and for the first time, you see something other than a glare from him

he smiles and then, to your shock, he speaks

“I would’ve been stuck there a lot longer if you hadn’t come by, so...”

and there’s something the stories got wrong: not a single one of them detailed any account of a mermaid feeling gratitude 

“I’m Y/N,” you blurt

“Y/N. I like it. Very warmblood. I’m Changkyun.” 

“Warmblood?” 

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?” he asks, looking you up and down with an inquisitive eye

“Ah, we call ourselves humans.” 

he laughs, throwing his head back and squinting his eyes

and it’s an oddly melodic laugh

“Of course you do. Nothing we come up with is good enough, huh?” 

“I don’t think that’s why-”

“I’m kidding. At least you kept our name, though.”

“Mermaids,” you whisper, feeling an involuntary shiver run down your spine

he raises an eyebrow. “Got a bad history with us or something?”

no, you explain, not exactly

you tell him of the stories you grew up hearing, not caring about your clothes getting wet as you sat next to him in the shallow waters of the cove 

and as you explain them, you feel more and more silly 

because talking to changkyun makes you think they’re all wrong

“So, can all mermaids heal wounds like that?” you ask, eager to change the subject

“Nope, only certain lineages. But that’s too complicated.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why were you out here today?” 

he smirks, saying, “I have a real talent for getting myself into trouble. Guess it was meant to be.” 

“What was? You getting stuck under a rock?” 

“I meant us meeting, but that, too, probably.” 

you feel a slight rose rise in your face

“So, this is fate?” you question 

“Probably not. But I’m glad you were here, and not just because you helped me get out from under a rock.” 

“Why, then?” 

“Because now I want to come back,” he says, “Would you be here?” 

your heart speeds up as you answer, “I’d be here if I knew when you were coming.” 

and then he’s grinning and moving so his lips are above your ear, where he whispers, “Every night. I’ll be here every night until you come to see me.” 

and your heart is beating 29379 beats per minute and your face is getting hot and you’re about to tell him that you’ll be in the cove tomorrow night when you feel him nibble on your ear 

“Changkyun!” you gasp, placing your hand on his chest to push him away 

and he’s laughing and he smiles as one hand reaches up to gently grasp your jaw and he leans in 

and you’re like oh my god... he’s going to kiss me

but he just touches his nose to yours and you could just swear you hear him say, “Boop!” 

pulling away, he makes his way towards the ocean as he says, “Tomorrow night, Y/N. See you then, I hope.” 

and then he’s gone 

your hand over your chest, you feel the racing of your heart grow only faster when you imagine meeting with changkyun tomorrow night

but of course you do it

[deceitxingenue-archive]

Mermaid verse

A mermaid verse!

Misc

Her diet consists of prey she has caught for herself, supplemented by the occasional human. She can and will drag someone beneath the surface to eat them, but this is quite a rare occurence. She prefers to just wreck a boat and eat whoever dies. She could be considered a siren, drawing people to her with her otherworldly singing voice.Even when not done for food, she still enjoys to sing, and she can often be found perched on a rock out to sea, singing to a rapt audience of sea creatures.

Clarisse rarely goes to the depths of the ocean, but when she does, she can see pretty well, her eyes seeming to glow in dim light like those of a feline. She has a transparent eyelid for when underwater. 

She can breathe through her nose and mouth, but also through a set of gills on her ribcage.

Appearance

Her hair is slightly longer, and messier as she doesn’t braid it back,and it often has pretty shells knotted into the silver locks. Her torso is still quite small, but she is a long girl, with a tail of maybe eight feet in length. It’s slender, pale lavender where the skin of her stomach becomes scales and darkening to deep violet at the flukes. She has pale translucent fins at the side of her waist, and her flukes (the bit at the end of her tail) are quite large, also translucent lavender in colour. 

Instead of her sharp canine fangs, all her teeth are fangs now.Her pale skin and her scales seem to shimmer under the light. 

Story

(there are changes!! Major ones! Completely alternate universe, not alternate timeline, so different backstory completely)

Clarisse was born in a large group of merfolk, but was somewhat shunned, due to being orphaned at a young age. She was a strange child, straying far from their home and collecting strange objects. Others mocked and ridiculed her, especially one merman, who seemed to attract others attention with some kind of magnetism. 

He had it out for her, big time. He tried to bother her, but she simply...Ignored him. She was lost in her own little world, hardly paying attention to what he did. 

So, he forced her to notice him. I’m not sure how ‘mating’ and such would work with merpeople, but he essentially let everyone know she was his and treated her somewhat like a pet. He still keeps his pretentious name (ie. named after a greek god) in this verse and is still a dickwad. 

Eventually, she fled, and now lives alone in the ocean. She has had very little interactions with humans and is very wary of them. With other mercreatures she is much more inquisitive and playful.  

Personality

She’s not as ‘broken’ as in her main verse and makes less of an effort to hide her feelings. She’s more like her younger self in this verse, very dreamy and free spirited. Clarisse (in any verse) can’t stand to be looked down upon or treated as an inferior, and if you want to try to cage her...Good luck. She’s never learned to read, because books can’t survive the water but if someone could make books waterproof and teach her how to read she’d love them forever. She falls in love easier and isn’t as scared of her own feelings. 

She keeps her sharp tongue and playful nature, though this playfulness finds better outlets than just cruelty. She enjoys finding pretty seashells and knotting them into her hair or into seaweed to wear around her wrists. 

If she gets bored of you and you’re human, she might try to eat you, and there’s no soothing venom now. It will hurt. 

[chairandchisel]

For just $53.74 Full armor set inspired by Cullen Rutherford from Dragon Age Inquisition with added Mandari war paint and clan engraving. Premium Armor Set Chosen: Two-layer chest piece allowing for height adjustment and fluidity. The upper layer with connected shoulder pauldrons and jerkin style underlayer with padded gorget collar. Combined thickness of 11oz. Buckle adjustments with silver finish strap keepers and premium decorative hardware at sides, layer connection, and collar. Close cell foam padding at collar and upper spine. Optional logo engraving. Shoulders attached directly to chest piece constructed from multiple layers of 5/6oz leather, laser and hand carved detail with war paint accent. Accented with left shoulder fin guard and secured with bicep strap from fluid movement. Bracers constructed from base 11oz heavy leather with layered 4oz leather accent patch and added carved detail. Optional additional war paint or engraving. Bracers lined with minimum 0.5” closed cell foam padding per SCA requirements. Attached via laces reinforced by eyelets. Elbow and knee guards same as in base quote. Measurements and Armor questionnaire has been filled out and is on file. Dark brown and black antique dyes. Dire Wolf Clan symbol to be engraved on gorget. Payment plan details: Savings Maximizer Subtotal Armor Set: $1070.82 Discount: $107.08 Total after discounts: $963.74 Monthly payments to be made of $130 for a total of 8 months (pro-rated on last month). On 8th month shipping will be calculated and listing will be adjusted to add shipping cost. Items will not begin creation until first payment is made and will not ship out until payment is made in full. Armor sets are made custom tailored to your measurements and style requests and therefore are non-refundable as stated in our shop policies. In the event payment is not made in full you forfeit the deposits made from prior payments. If any pieces have been completed and paid for we will ship those to you a...

[shadowsfiguresfigments-blog]

A good place to die Chapter 10 (Fluff)

Warning: Harsh language, violence

The smell of coffee woke me up. It was Saturday, and auntie was going to work the late shift today. A glance at my watch told me it was actually too early for her to be up, and a surge of affection rushed through me. I rose somewhat stiffly, but for the first time I didn’t have the urge to take painkillers immediately. As I trotted down the stairs I briefly reflected on my crazy, crazy week – had it really only been five days since Penny came back? (Don’t think about yesterday, don’t blush, don’t make her ask questions…)

A rather splendid breakfast awaited me. After I had assured auntie that my ribs and shoulder felt much better we ate in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable – both she and I were happy, though surely for different reasons. I decided to take a look at the book store, making sure everything was alright so far, and auntie offered to drop me off on her way to do some shopping.

It had become pretty cold over night, and I had some issues with putting my warm cloak on – in the end she helped me dress, and I felt rather childish. We talked about irrelevant stuff during the drive (had I ever done small talk before? I wasn’t sure) and I gave her a brief kiss on the cheek when I said good bye, another first one for me.

As far as I could see, nothing had happened to the store since the burglary had happened. The obligatory ‘crime-scene’ tapes were still up, but the seal on the door hadn’t been broken. I walked around for a little bit longer, ignoring the voice in my head that told me I was too embarrassed to go see Penny, but after a couple of minutes I felt profoundly stupid, so I started heading back towards the canal. I planned on following the Kenduskeag, starting at the canal, and walk through the barrens – that would give me plenty of time to think about what to say to Penny- instead of taking the bus to Neibolt Street.

Well, I surely forgot about ‘the plan’ when I walked down to the canal. The water was glittering in the sun, and the first touch of rime on the grass created the illusion of the slope being flooded too. The farmers would be cursing about the early frost, but I admired my surroundings like I’d never done before. So entranced was I by the beauty of the cold that I realized there was something beneath the surface of the water only after a couple of minutes.

It was barely visible, shielded by the gleam of the sun dancing on the top of the tiny waves, but there was something scaly down there, something huge, deep enough to only let you guess what it might be. I stopped mid-stride, fascinated, and crouched down at the edge of the canal. A quick look around assured me there was no one around, and I lowered myself closer to the surface. The thing had stopped swimming forward, and floated next to me for a brief moment before disappearing in the dark water.

“Penny?”, I breathed.

The water exploded in a crystalline fountain, a myriad of tiny, shiny droplets spraying everywhere. I fell back on my ass, mouth hanging open in awe. Before me towered the most beautiful giant sea serpent.

Its scales shimmered light grayish blue, and its head was crowned with fins the color of fire. It looked as if it were made out of thousands of tiny diamonds.

“Oh, Penny…”, I sighed, dumbfounded by the wondrous sight.

I could have sworn the creature grinned at me, and without hesitation I climbed on its back, wasting no thought on how people would react if they saw a girl riding a mythological creature through the canal. And what a ride it was! I clung tightly to the scaly, cool body that seemed to fly through the icy water with the speed of light. Though the cold air burned in my eyes I forced myself to keep them wide open, marveling at the sight of everything whizzing past me.

When we reached the barrens and the stream started to get shallower, Penny floated to the shore and allowed me to slide back unto dry land. When I turned around the serpent was gone and his clown self stood before me, his hair looking almost on fire against the sun. With my cheeks still being flushed from the thrill of the ride I opened my mouth to say something more or less intelligent about yesterday, but was cut short when Penny bowed down and placed a wet kiss on my nose.

Then he just watched me, like a kid excitedly observing their parents unwrapping a present that had cost them hours to craft. While I turned the color of tomatoes the corners of my mouth stretched so much my face actually started to hurt a little. Entirely unable to contain my sheepish grin I touched my nose, wiping off some drool.

“So you are not mad at me?” I blurted out.

He tilted his head in an inquisitive way. “Why would I? Isn’t that normal behavior for you humans?”

“Uhm…” So he had just mimicked what I did?

“It’s, uhm, a sign of, uhm… affection”, I explained. “It’s not exactly something you would do with everybody.” Could my face even turn any more red?

He thought about that for a second, and then his eyes turned deeper blue. “So you lick your noses?”

 I stared, then laughed out whole heartedly. “Not really, no. We kiss each other, that’s what we do. And it doesn’t have to be on the nose, either.”

He grinned impishly, and I wasn’t entirely sure whether he was really confused or leading me on. “Where else would you kiss?”

I tried to maintain somewhat of a straight face, while trying to find the words to properly explain the subtle details in our interactions. “Well, if you are good friends with someone, you might kiss them on the cheek when saying hello, but without tongue. Parents might kiss their children on the head or the cheek, or if the kids hurt themselves the parents might give the wound a little kiss to make it better.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I understand that. But I always thought you needed your pills and creams and bandages to heal a wound?”

“It’s not really making the wound heal faster, it’s supposed to make the kid feel better.”

“That’s strange.”

It sounded a little weird, hearing this creature calling something strange, when he had literally been a mythological creature minutes before.

“Well, then there’s another form of kissing, with your partner. It’s more on the mouth, and it might involve the tongue, too.” I stopped, feeling stupid and actually embarrassed. I probably didn’t do a good job of explaining either.

“So you lick each other’s mouths if you want to mate.” That made him laugh and me feel desperate.

“It’s not like that, it’s… different. It’s not always involved with… mating. It’s just another sign of a very deep affection for each other, and it’s kissing, not licking.”

He bowed down, his face only inches away from mine.

“What’s the difference, then?”

I looked away, muttering something that sounded unintelligible even to my ears.

He came even closer.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“I can’t explain it any better. It’s just part of human interaction.”

He placed a finger under my chin, gently forcing me to look at him, and grinned widely.

“Show me, then.”

I yanked my head back, staring at him. “It’s not like I have done it before”, I blurted out, utterly confused.

“Why not?” He lingered on the last ‘t’, and it made me shiver.

“There just hasn’t been anyone who would… I just haven’t, okay?”

His eyes turned silver, and he withdrew with hand. Frustrated I started pulling my hair, a habit I had lost only a year ago.

“Look, this is an intense subject, okay? It’s something others make fun of you for, and it’s kind of weird for a human my age to not have been kissed before. I already told you, you are the only one I consider a friend, and you are obviously not even of my species. It never bothered me until I met you, anyway.”

By now his eyes were yellow, and his grin was entirely gone. It took me a second to understand that he’d probably thought the last part was an accusation. I grabbed his hand and tried pull him back down to look at me.

“I swear, Penny, I don’t mean to blame you, nor attack you. I just told you, you are my only friend, no matter what. It’s just… before I was numb, okay? I have never felt all these things before, and it is confusing to me. I never had a reason to think about kissing anybody, and it isn’t something you ‘just do’, especially if it’s a first. At least for most of us.”

“So you mean you don’t want to kiss me?”

“I…” I closed my mouth, surprised that I was so unsure of my answer.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

His smile returned, his eyes growing softer, and he closed his hand around mine.

“Then just try it.”

I hesitated for another second, then I leaned forward and kissed Pennywise. I was unsure how to move my lips, and the feeling was very foreign – but not unpleasant. Somewhere in the back of my head a voice told me he was starting to mimic my movements, and I slowly closed my eyes.

[outlawqueenbey]

Forgotten Amnesia

@oqpromptparty Day 3:

Robin has amnesia. He falls in love with his Regina, his doctor. (#156)

Hospitals are….not her cup of tea. Everything smells stale and bleached beyond recognition. There is a constant whispering between hushed voices, muffled words and scowls between doctors and nurses over patient charts. Not much about a hospital is very happy. Sure, people come in with injuries and leave fully recovered, but sometimes they don't. Sometimes people never leave the confines of this white walled fortress, and other times they are taken out in a body bag. Pain is everywhere. Not just physical, that can be handled easily with IV's and morphine, but it's the psychological pain that lingers and claws it's grimy hands around this place. Patients in pain when they are told they will never walk again. Parents in pain seeing their children being wheeled off to surgery. Friends staring into the abyss waiting and praying to whoever that their person comes out safely.

No, hospitals are not her favorite place. But it's where her life now revolves around because of a particular patient, and the pain in her heart that refuses to go away. She's been his doctor for six years now. Walks the same hallway down to room 23 with his ever growing medical chart in hand, a glass of lemonade in the other, a favorite of his she's come to learn over their time together.

Each day is much the same, his condition hasn't improved, the car crash he barely survived has taken away all of his memories. Of his family back home who waits, his job he will most likely never return to, the friends that visit every now and again, and the family he has, who love him so much and miss him even more. Pain. It surrounds him though he doesn't feel a thing.

But every morning at half past ten she knocks on his door, hoping that it might be the day something has changed. Today is no different. With his drink in tow, she pushes his door open to find him staring rather intently out the window. A frown creasing his forehead and crinkling the lines around his bright blue eyes. It's an expression she hasn't seen before.

Sure there has been frustration for him in his recovery. The first few months after coming out of the coma. The braces around his legs and spine to keep him upright as he learned to walk again. Learning how to speak again. That was exhausting for her. But they did it. After nearly a year, he could finally form proper sentences to voice his thoughts and needs rather than shakily scribble on a pad of paper, or use their made up tapping code with his fingers on her palm. One tap meant yes. Two taps was no. That was their entire conversation. Filled with her asking him questions, and he tapping her hand. She damn near cried the first time he said hello to her. It was the progress she'd been waiting on.

But that feeling of utter relief and joy soon took a rapid downhill sink when he asked her what her name was. He didn't remember it. Didn't remember her. And that's how they figured out that the traumatic brain injury he had suffered caused extreme memory loss and day to day amnesia.

Other doctors had sighed and patted her shoulder, telling her there was nothing they could do. The brain is a fragile organ, and sometimes the damage is irreparable. She refused to believe them. Which is why she has stood in this doorway in the place she hates most, and told him her name every day.

But this look, the way he doesn't even turn to acknowledge her is jarring, and it makes her heart sink slightly. If this is another setback, she has run out of options with his rehab. They will just have to live like this, in two separate worlds, where his smile will forever have her stomach flipping over into a cloud of butterflies and that will be it. She won't leave him, but there will be no growth between them. Not anymore. He doesn't even remember seeing her yesterday.

"Robin?" She sets her charts and his lemonade down on the side table, sitting on the bed next to his hip. "Are you alright?"

He huffs quietly, scowls at the sun outside before turning back to her, scanning her face for any source of recognition. It's a longer look than she is used to. And something feels different about him. She should probably check his vitals and do her routine morning checklist of him. Hopefully he isn't declining. Her heart couldn't take that. The past six years have already taken a toll, and the threads are barely holding the beating organ together.

"I'm Dr. Mills. I just have to give you a check over okay?" She sits and reaches for her stethoscope. His eyes follow as she places the chilled tool on his chest, plugs in her ears as she listens to his heartbeat for a moment. "It's still going strong." Regina smiles, leaning back and jotting a few notes on his chart.

He doesn't say anything, just nods and follows her with his ever inquisitive eyes as she stands and moves to the other side of his bed. "You're beautiful, has anyone ever told you that?"

Little does he know, it's him who does. Every day she sees him. He comments on how stunning her eyes are. How impressive her brain is. The brilliance of her smile. Silly as it may be, she loves hearing him say them. She is no stranger to men admiring her, but he is the only one who can say something so simple and it has her heart banging a trumpeting chorus in her chest.

"Thank you. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I suppose."

He's always fine. Every damn day, that's all he is. Just fine. One day she hopes he will say he's good. That would be such an improvement.

She places her hand in his own, "Can you squeeze my fingers for me?" He does. On both sides, and at least his strength hasn't gone down hill. Physical Therapy has done him well. She squeezes back for a moment before letting her hand slide out of his. He frowns at that but says nothing, just stares at her with that same intensity.

"I'm going to check your eyes now okay?"

He shuffles to lay back on his bed, but when she brings the retinoscope up to his face, his hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her from coming any closer. The contact tingles in a way it shouldn't anymore. "This won't hurt, I just need to look at your eyes." Just like every other day.

His eyes stay locked on hers, fingers still wrapped around her wrist as he moves her hand to the side, and he scans her face over and over again until a small half dimpled smile parts across his lips.

"Is everything okay?"

"I know you."

The words steal the breath out of her lungs. Not once, in six years since he had been brought into her care has he ever had any inclination of knowing who she was. Tears flood into her eyes as she tries to stifle the urge to hug him. It could simply be fluke. A trick of the brain that is healing. And she dare not linger on the prospect of hope. She tried that before, and it didn't exactly work out in her favour.

"I'm your doctor. I see you everyday." She smiles, patting his chest softly. "For six years we've known each other." It's been longer, but again, he doesn't know that.

Robin frowns at that. "No. I mean I remember who you are."

She doesn't exactly know what to say to that, just tilts her head to the side curiously, "And who am I?"

"Regina. That's your name. Regina Evelyn Mills."

Her jaw drops. In the past six years her middle name has never been brought up. Not once.

"You're right." She swallows thickly at the bubble of hope caught in her throat.

"You grew up in Maine, in a small town where you used to be the mayor."

A tear falls from her eyes as she nods, bites down on her lip not wanting to interrupt his break through. It takes a moment, a long frozen second in time that he turns his eyes down to her hand that is gripped within his own, the single silver band around her left finger, one that matches a ring that sits on his left hand.

"You were my wife." He whispers out.

A half laugh half cry escapes her as she reaches with her free hand to tip his chin up, finding his eyes staring up at her in disbelieving promise.

"No," She leans into his lips, uncaring if anyone were to walk in as her forehead meets his own, "I am your wife."

He closes the distance before she can, pressing their lips softly together as her tears fall.

"I...I remember you."

Fin.