#and it might have been an inch or a foot but the tide would have helped everyone

[bi-planeandsimple]

You (wsj article author, not op) supposedly cherish “freedom of expression” and “stories” - which party is doing book bans?? And Which party is against censorship?? Hmmm??? And by voting for Trump you proved everyone else right! You are too stupid and racist and sexist, especially if you think Trump winning will stop these “divisive and destructive” arguments. Leftists and liberals still exist and we still know we are smarter than you and that trump is bad. Or were you hoping we’d all be put in jail? Which trump said he would do-jail all his “enemies” but oh no Democrats enacted constitutional overreach to address actual treason on Jan 6th. You are also stupid for not knowing what 3rd graders are actually taught, and that it’s not Critical Race Theory. I will also bet $1000 you don’t know what CRT actually is or who Kimberlé Crenshaw is. You fear the sway of Big Pharma and you voted for trump?? When Biden has been capping insulin at $30?? And got us vaccines and covid tests for free?? Like none of what you wrote makes sense!!

Thank you, Wall Street Journal, for giving us an editorial that tells us "I voted for Trump because Democrats were mean and rude and 8 year olds are learning CRT and Trump will bring us freedom." Fuck's sake. You bought into Republican propaganda.

[koriangguk]

✧ vegas temptation

✧ synopsis: Falling victim to yet another failed situationship, you're consumed by dread. Maybe love is something you aren't destined to experience in this lifetime? Or maybe you just need a little getaway and a friend who'll accompany the series of impulsive decisions this would entail. Thankfully, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

✧ genre: fake dating au, heavy on smut with a sprinkle of angst

✧warnings: cream play, nipple play, hickeys, different positions, protected/unprotected sex, public nudity (?), tongue-fuck, fingering, denied orgasm, overstimulation, ice play, vibrator play, rope play, candle burns (?) ✧recommended artists: Chase Atlantic, The Weeknd, Daniel Di Angelo, Doja Cat

Everyone knows heartbreak is a pain in the ass, but an intriguing one at that.

It pulls on your heartstrings and fuels the desperate longing to feel whole again. Releasing a tide of emotions that follow suit as your consciousness drowns under the shattering pieces of broken promises, white lies and everything in between. 

But, nothing compares to the ego that awakens within you as you enter a phase of recovery, embarking on the infamous villain arc. One that is flamed with rage and hunger for revenge. 

Because, let's be honest, a good heart can only take you so far until everything comes crashing down again. Before you are back at square one, like clockwork, slaving after hours just to receive the bare minimum. 

So, fuck that and fuck Kim Jaewon. Stupid cunt. 

Honestly, if it wasn’t for Jungkook and his Black Amex you wouldn’t even bother brushing your hair, let alone worry about which lacey lingerie you should pack for a week in Vegas. 

The Entertainment Capital of the World. 

Well, it certainly would be entertaining to put two best friends into a couple’s suite and hope that nothing happens. But, as Jungkook’s dilated pupils watched you swallow your feelings with another shot of tequila it didn’t really seem like he was the one betting on that deal. Quite the opposite actually. 

“Honestly, screw him, y/n.” he muttered, running his fingers through those dark locks as the two of you waited for your flight at the boujee business lounge. 

In contrast to his trust fund upbringing, you felt like the biggest elephant in the room venturing into the wrong tax bracket. So, the potential side effects of the alcohol running down your esophagus were primarily to calm the nerves of sticking out like a sore thumb, and only slightly to forget your ex. 

“Have you been listening at all? I kind of already did.” your lips pursed in annoyance, words barely stringing together. 

You weren't annoyed at Jungkook, per se, more so at yourself for letting it get this far. For intoxicating your system at the crack of dawn, as at least twenty pairs of eyes watched the two of you bicker. But, come on, surely it was 5 pm somewhere. Listen, when everything is already going wrong, how damaging could another bad decision be? Especially, in the form of a liquid. So, please, everyone keep your judgement to yourself. 

“Well, then that might just be the problem.” 

“Huh?” your gaze furrowed, brows knitted with confusion. 

“You’re fucking the wrong guys, y/n.” Jungkook whispered with a sly grin. 

“Right. And you, I’m assuming would have been my Mr. Right, of course.” you scoffed, jabbing your finger into his chest before looking back up at his heavy gaze. 

“Give me a week and we'll see.” he teased, using his foot to pull on your chair, bringing your tipsy form closer until inches were separating your parted lips from his. 

Playful would have been the best word to describe your relationship with Jungkook. You never crossed the line between friends and lovers but were in very close proximity to doing so. So, when you poured your heart out, crying on his shoulder the night Jaewon’s cheating scandal broke out like wildfire, a part of Jungkook was pleased by the news despite how selfish it might have looked. 

Simply put, he was never a fan of your boyfriends. How could he be when the mere sight of another man beside you triggered every cell in his body, charging a visceral reaction that was forced to be suppressed, kept on the low because you were never his to be territorial of. 

Never his to be taken care of. To be loved. Oh, if only you knew how badly he wanted it. How badly he wanted you. 

Only, you did know. Because, like a sickening aftertaste, the tension between the two of you always lingered. But he kept his distance, and you played on with the denial. Praying for each other’s downfall, you hoped that the other would finally cave in, and say the three words that would change the trajectory of your relationship forever. 

But, as time went on, his fetish for your love only grew stronger and an innocent crush matured into a craving. One that could no longer be suppressed no matter how much you tried to push it away. To push him away. 

Jaewon was your last straw. The breaking point that made you question whether you were destined to be loved in this lifetime. And although he caused you pain, you didn’t know if you should thank your ex or curse his whole bloodline, because now that he was gone there was no point in denying that Jungkook and you were more than just friends. 

Lathering the shea butter on your damp skin, your vision was hazy, body seemingly recovering from the hot shower. But, after that 15-hour flight surrounded by multiple throw-ups and diaper changes, a scrub-down was a must. So, there you were standing in front of the full-sized mirror in the pink pyjama set your mom gifted you specifically for this trip. Whatever that meant.  

See, Jungkook had a way with words. It was his charm. His sensual demeanour could have an innocent bystander wrapped around his finger with one plea. A practical skill that most likely fueled your mother’s spending on the silk fabric, but one that you have yet to fall victim to. 

His mind games were strong, but your stubbornness was stronger. He didn’t mind, actually, kind of adored it. The dominant side of you, the way you could shut him up with one glare. It made loving you so much more thrilling, worth fighting for every sigh, every eye roll, every sneer. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” you blurted at the man's reflection as his palms rested on the top of the doorframe, darkened orbs bluntly eying your body from top to bottom. 

“Like what?” Jungkook grinned, nibbling on his lip rings.

“Like you want something.” you whispered with a furrowed gaze, spraying some leave-in conditioner into your detangled hair. 

“Hmm … but, I do want something.” he teased, inching closer before you felt his bare chest hit your back, veiny hands holding onto your waist. 

“I bet. I made rules you know? In case you thought I’d give in so easily.” you murmured, turning to face him as your fingers slightly tugged on the towel wrapped around his hips. 

“Is that so?” he chuckled softly, eyes flickering down to your plump lips. 

“Mhhm,” you nodded, feeling his hands slowly travel up your top as your own intertwined behind his neck. 

“Did I break any already?” he rasped into your ear, teeth grazing against the soft skin. 

Your mouth curled into a mischievous sneer as you whispered, “Just one.” 

However, before he could respond, your fist was already gripping the chains on his neck, gently pulling him toward the king-sized bed that was covered in rose petals and a complimentary note from the hotel. 

Happy honeymoon, lovebirds!

Loosening his towel, Jungkook watched as you straddled his lap, pressing your hands onto his chest before innocently glancing up at his parted lips. You could have sworn a drool dripped down his mouth, but it might’ve just been your ego flying through the roof as you felt his racing heartbeat.   

“May I?” you teased, slowly rocking your hips against the friction beneath you. 

“By all means, love.” he purred, tracing his hands back onto your thighs before flinching at your sudden slap. 

“Hands off, Jeon. Rule number one.” you giggled at the sudden change in his demeanour. The way his furrowed gaze searched for the audacity that could’ve potentially justified the words that came out of your mouth. 

“You’re fucking with me, right?” he groaned, jerking his head back. 

“No?” a small pout worked its way over your innocent face, eyes fluttering. 

“Baby, please.” 

Was he begging? Or were your knees buckling from the fatigue? Whatever. Keep focus, y/n. 

“I warned you, Koo.” you winked, brushing your lips over his before a knock on the door interrupted the little moment. 

“Room service!” a man’s voice echoed from the corridor. 

I guess the sight of Jungkook’s sculpted chest completely hazed your mind as you struggled to recover even the slightest recollection of ordering food. 

“Coming!” you yelled out, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose until his hold on your waist tightened. 

“No, stay.” he murmured, voice laced with desperation. 

“I have to open the door, Jeon, that's kind of how it works.” 

“I like you here.” he grinned, tugging on your bottom lip before leaving a soft spank on your ass. And, as you glanced back at his heaving chest you feared that rule number one was going to be short-lived. 

“Do you like it? They didn’t have Carbonara but I thought shrimp fettuccine would have sufficed,” you said with slight hesitation which shortly dissipated as you watched him empty the dish clean.  

“Trust me, y/n. You being here has already made me a happy man. Everything else is just a cherry on top.” Jungkook smiled, rubbing his tattooed hand along his jaw before reaching for the last plate cover.

“Honestly, I wanted to thank y-,” your words were interrupted by his sudden whine. 

“No dessert?” his brow arched slightly. 

“Oh. Shoot, sorry. I … I didn’t think you’d want any.” your words came out as a stutter, eyes frantically searching for the phone. 

“Mhmm, but I would kill for some cheesecake.” he sighed with a pout, loosening the buttons on his shirt. 

Changing out of the cotton fabric that covered his cucumber-scented body roughly five minutes ago, Jungkook decided to parade the same pyjama set as you. And, now that the two of you were matching, it was clear what your mom’s mission was all along. 

“Yeah, okay, let me just call them b-” 

“No need.” 

“Huh? So, you don’t want dessert?” 

“I do.” he teased, keeping his voice low and calm. 

“Okay, let’s cut back on the riddles, Jeon. Do I call or not?”

But, there was no answer. Instead, he simply excused himself from the table before walking towards the red couch, patting the seat next to him. 

“Come here, y/n.” his voice lowered to a rumble, darkened orbs filled with nothing but lust. 

“Why?”

“If I can’t touch you let me at least taste you.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. Hands fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. 

“I beg your finest pardon?” you scoffed from pure disbelief, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Baby, you have at max three seconds to walk your fine self over here before I grab you myself.” 

“Was that a threat?” you glared at his sly expression, hooded gaze colliding with yours. 

“One …” his tone demanded a response. 

But, you didn’t move. Not even an inch. Aggravating the tension. 

“Two …” 

Who does he think he is? Grab you myself. Claw machine sounding ass. 

“Three …” 

You chuckled, giving him the nastiest eye roll before your muscles tensed up, seeing his 5’8 gym rat physique actually get up. 

“Okay! Alright! I’m coming.” you blurted in sheer panic, fixing your bottoms before doing the walk of shame toward his pleased self. 

Reaching out his hand, you pushed it away, reminding him of the deal. 

“Right here, love.” Jungkook grinned, marking his chest as a target for your landing. 

What a tease. 

“You know what, Koo. Fine. If you want to play games, let’s play a game.” you hissed with a wink, stripping out of the silk fabric before dropping it on his lap.  

“Fucking hell.” a growl escaped his parted lips as his eyes raked over your glistening skin, admiring every inch, every crevice of your body. 

He was needy, but you were too busy rummaging through the mini-fridge to notice how desperately he longed for your attention. 

“Perfect!” you exclaimed, shaking a bottle of whipped cream before straddling his lap once again. Except this time, in your black lingerie. One that was initially reserved for Jaewon’s eyes only until he decided to fuck you over. Now, the privilege was all Jungkook’s. 

“Y/n.” he breathed out heavily, creased forehead resting on yours. 

And, as you pressed your thumb against his chin, your index finger slid along his bottom lip, feeling his tongue lick the cream off your skin. 

“Just like that, baby.” you gave him a tiny nod of reassurance, glancing up at his doe-eyed gaze. 

Fuck, submissiveness never looked this good. 

“Y/n, please.” he whimpered, hands hovering over your skin before you finally gave in, intertwining your fingers with his. 

Unclasping your bra, you let his veiny hands rest on your perky breasts, decorating your hardened nipples with his special treat. 

“Taste me,” you purred, tugging on his bottom lip as his mouth opened in a half-moan. 

He was wasted. Big time. 

“You sure?” he had to double-check, searching your lustful gaze for approval. 

“I am. Enjoy your dessert, Jeon.” the words simply rolled off your tongue, like you’ve been meaning to say them all along. And, as you ran your fingers through his messy hair, slightly tugging on the ends, the built-up need within you slowly inched up, begging for his touch. 

Cupping your breasts in his burning palms, he peppered your skin with sloppy kisses, teeth grazing against the pinks of your sensitive nipples before biting down on the flesh. 

“Fuck” you hissed with your head jerked back. 

Sucking off the creamy delight that painted your swollen tits, his pierced tongue licked its way up to your parted mouth, marking your neck with purple hues of possession. 

“Koo,” you rasped against his ear, shamelessly rocking your hips back and forth as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. 

“I know, baby.” he muttered, gently lifting your frail body before pinning it against the armrest of the red couch. 

Giving a little shake to the whipping cream that dropped from your hands, Jungkook levelled his face to yours, drawing a line down your stomach. And, as he watched you arch your back from the cold sensation, a spark of temptation danced in his darkened eyes, cheeks flushed from the sinful whimpers that escaped your parted lips until the warmth of his tongue eased the pain. 

Moving down the center line, his fingertips traced your ribs, a faint outline of which poked with each breath you took. In and out, your diaphragm was working overtime, trying to keep up with the suffocating demand. One that only fueled Jungkook’s cravings, as he tugged onto the black lace of your lingerie. 

“Compliments to the chef,” he whispered teasingly, gaze softening at the arousal that had your panties all drenched. 

“Jeon, stop staring, this is so embarrassing.” you whined, voice muffled by the pillow that covered your rosy cheeks as you desperately attempted to close your legs and simply vanish. 

“It’s not my fault someone forgot to order dessert.” he grinned, pulling you closer as his hold on your thighs tightened, before hooking your ankles over his bare shoulders. “Now, please. Let a man eat.”

Admiring your sleeping features, Jungkook cuddled into your chest, planting soft kisses on your marked neck before dozing off inside your arms until the buzzing of your phone startled him right out of REM. 

No Caller ID

“Y/n?” a man’s hesitant voice echoed in his ear. 

“She’s sleeping.” Jungkook muttered, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumb. 

“Who is this? Jungkook, is that you?” Jaewon exclaimed, evidently more on edge than before. 

“What do you want?” 

“Can I talk to, y/n?” 

“As I just said, she’s sleeping.” Jungkook’s tone was low, aggravated by the need to repeat himself.

“Well, can you wake her up?” 

“She seemed quite worn out after the fifth round, so I probably shouldn’t.” a grin curled his lips as you rested your head on his heaving chest, completely naive to the unfolded event. 

“What?” 

“Lose the number, Jaewon.” Jungkook gritted through his teeth, ending the call before tossing your phone on the edge of the bed. 

Feeling the warmth of the sun rays peeking through the silk curtains, you stretched your sore body, patting the mattress next to you before noticing Jungkook’s absence. 

“Mmhm?” you pouted, reaching for your phone to check the time. 

There’s no way you slept through breakfast and he didn’t wake you. Based on your history of ‘hangryness’ and emotional breakdowns that followed suit he should know better. 

7:45 am 

“Jungkook?” you called out, covering yourself with the sheer nightgown before knocking on the bathroom door, waiting for a response. 

Nothing. 

“Jeon?” you called again, this time scanning the living room. Everything looked frozen in time, left untouched from the night before — the empty bottle of wine and the stained glass marked with your red lipstick. But still, no trace of Jungkook.

Going back into the bedroom, you quickly brushed your teeth and changed into a baby blue sundress, opening up the blinds to let in the natural light.

“Shit!” you yelped, widened eyes staring at Jungkook’s sculpted back. 

Sliding the door just enough to pass by, you felt the goosebumps spread across your body as the morning breeze danced around your bare skin. 

“Oh, I thought you quit.” you gasped, brows knitted with confusion as you looked over his broad shoulders, the smell of cigarettes lingering between you two. 

“Yeah, well, I thought you cut ties with Jaewon. So … I guess we’re both disappointed.” Jungkook exhaled sharply, turning his head halfway to take in another puff. 

Something was off, he seemed distant, cold to the touch. 

“What? What are you talking about?” you asked, hands fidgeting with the straps of your dress. 

“He called last night.” 

“Why? Is he okay?” 

And, that’s when he erupted. Back pressed against the railing, his body turned to face your timid form, before muttering, “Do you care?”

“Well, no? But … if we stopped talking and you suddenly called I would want to know why,” you hesitated with the explanation, analyzing the way his forehead creased with each word.  

“Mmhm, except I never treated you like a scrumbag, did I?” Jungkook swallowed, rubbing his tattooed hand along his flexed jaw. 

“True, but you never pursued me either.” you snapped back, arms crossed over your burning chest. 

“This is a prank, isn’t it?” he scoffed maniacally, eyes twitching from disbelief. 

“I’m dead serious, Jeon. Why did you keep your distance if you wanted me so badly?”

He didn’t answer. Letting the two of you stare at each other for a split second, before finally taking a step forward, following your pace as your back hit the glass door. Leaning his hands on either side of your head, his broad shoulders hovered over you.

If this was his attempt at scaring you or somehow making you feel beneath him, it was not working. Because, as his face levelled with yours, your gaze furrowed, never breaking eye contact. Standing firm on what you said. 

“Y/n, I kept my distance because I wanted you so bad.” 

“Kind of dumb, don’t you think?” you pouted with a slight head tilt. 

By now, Jungkook was ready to combust. The adrenaline running through his veins prepared to set off his fight or flight response at any given moment. 

“Okay. Fine. How about I pursue myself into your ass, hmm?” he growled, tone demanding a response. 

“I'd looove to see you try.” you teased, eyes fluttering with innocence. 

“On the bed.” 

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, tongue poking the side of your cheek. 

“You heard me. Chop chop, baby girl.” Jungkook rasped against your ear, nibbling on the soft skin as a final warning. 

To be honest you really didn’t know what you were getting yourself into until his fingers ran down your spine, hands tightening their hold on your hips as his growing boner pressed against the arch of your ass. 

Fuck, he was serious. 

“From now on, I’ll be so close you’d have to scrub my scent off you,” he sneered, gently sliding his two digits over your folds, fingertips coated with your wetness as you remained on all fours. 

“Koo,” you whimpered, tugging on your bottom lip.

Parting your throbbing cunt, his pierced tongue licked your clit, thumb rubbing it in small circles before your moans grew louder. More desperate. More needy. Hazy mind unable to fathom the calmness you radiated just a few minutes ago. 

“Hold on.” he whispered, reaching for his wallet to grab a strip of condoms before ripping one open with his gritted teeth. 

“Tell me if this is dumb enough for you.” Jungkook teased, mouth sliding along your tensed jaw as he rubbed his erection against your clit, resisting the urge to fill you up right then and there. 

It was clear that your words irked him but he had to remain calm enough to not hurt you, forcing his annoyance to cool off with a verbal mock. 

And, as he slowly pushed himself in, whimpers escaped your parted lips, hands gathering up the white sheets into knots, feeling his cock stretch its way in against the warmth of your walls. Cautious of his pace, he needed you to adjust, pulling in and out until there was enough lubrication for the growing friction to feel good, painless.

“Koo,” you whined again, gasping for air as his lips left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your back. 

“Just like that, baby. You’re doing so good.” Jungkook reassured, softening his hooded gaze upon hearing your sweet sounds. The ones that poisoned his thoughts and invaded his dreams all those countless nights. 

Clenching your clit on his throbbing length, his vision grew in and out of focus, hissing at the tingling sensation. 

“Fuuuck, y/n.” he moaned, fingers digging into your ass, before jerking his head back. 

Picking up his pace, Jungkook went faster and harder. Slamming himself into you, until his twitching tip touched the surface of your cervix, making your toes curl in ecstasy, as a trail of juices ran down your trembling thighs. 

“Jeon, I'm gonna faint.” you cried out, feeling your throat tighten, lungs stripped away from air.

“Just a little longer, baby.” he muttered, chest heaving up from exhaustion. 

He was close. Very close. So, as your walls clenched around him for the sixth time, he could have sworn his dick melted. Became part of your anatomy, no longer attached to his person. Surrendered with a white flag. 

“Y/n, look at me.” he urged breathlessly, snapping the rubber off his sensitive dick before giving it a few more pumps, squirting his cum onto your displayed tongue, completely exasperating in the process.  

“So,” you swallowed obediently, “now that you've pursued my ass you'll quit smoking, right?” your doe-eyed gaze glanced up at his darkened orbs that watched you lick the dripping cum off his tip as you sat on your knees. Aware of his response, you brushed your lips against his, inviting his tongue inside before his burning body collided with yours, smiling into the deep kiss. 

“Well, technically, I didn't go near your ass. Not many girls like that.” Jungkook teased, tucking a few curls behind your ear.  

“Many girls, huh? How many?” you murmured, tracing the tattoos on his arm as your bodies laid skin to skin, staring at the white ceiling. 

“About five.” he answered, a bit too quickly for your liking. 

“Five? You man whore.” you scoffed with disgust, quickly retracting your hand from his. 

“Sometimes six, depending on which video loads first.” his nose scrunched in a tiny giggle once he saw your mouth drop, expression left dumbfounded as the dots in your head began to connect. 

So, that's what kept him busy all this time. Porn? Phenomenal. 

“Next time, I'll just stay curious.” you sighed, half disappointed yet, also relieved. He might’ve just lied straight to your face but sometimes, it's better to simply pick your battles, choosing to live in blissful ignorance than the chaos of reality. Whatever his reality entails.

[moonsandmobilityaids]

A Trip To The Kitchens

Pairings: Sirius Black x Disabled!Reader (part of my Poly!marauders x disabled!reader universe) Summary: You can't sleep, so you and Sirius sneak down to the kitchens. Warnings: chronic pain Series Masterlist

The moon is high when the pain in your joints begins to swell, a familiar tide rising with the night. It makes your skin feel too tight, each breath a labour as you lie sandwiched between discomfort and Sirius' solid warmth. He's shifted in his sleep, using you once again as a makeshift pillow—his arm heavy across your chest, his head nestled into the crook of your neck, long hair tickling your skin. It's not unpleasant, this closeness, but it does little to ease the ache that gnaws at your bones.

You shift slightly, careful not to wake him. On your other side, James sprawls ungracefully, one leg dangling over the edge of the bed, face slack in peaceful slumber. His mouth is slightly open, a soft snore escaping from the gap. It would be endearing if not for the grimace that pulls at your features, the silent plea for respite.

Beyond James, Remus lies curled up on the edge of the mattress, a study in self-contained grace. Even in sleep, he seems aware of the space he occupies, making room for others, an echo of the consideration he offers so freely in waking hours.

Your body twitches again, a silent protest against the onslaught of pain, and Sirius stirs. He grumbles something unintelligible, the sound vibrating against your skin as his arm tightens around your waist. "Babe, stop moving," he mumbles, breath warm against your neck. His voice is thick with sleep, a low rumble that might have been soothing under different circumstances. "I'm comfy."

There's a ghost of a smile on your lips despite the discomfort. Trust Sirius to find comfort in the most unlikely moments. "Glad one of us is," you whisper back, but there's no humour in your voice—only the gritted determination of someone trying not to succumb to their own body's betrayal. The pain is sharper now, insistent, like a dull blade being twisted slowly inside you. There's a heaviness too, a swelling that makes every inch of your skin feel stretched too thin over aching muscles and stiff joints. You need to move before it gets any worse.

Your hand finds his, fingers brushing lightly over the back of his arm. It's a gentle touch, but there's an urgency behind it that belies the softness of your skin against his. "Sirius, I need to get up."

His response is immediate. For all his bravado and carefree charm, Sirius Black has never been one to ignore a cry for help—especially not from you. He lifts his head, dark hair falling into his eyes as he blinks blearily at the dim light filtering through the curtains. His grey eyes are still clouded with sleep, but they sharpen quickly at the sight of your strained expression.

"Is everything alright?" His voice is quieter now, the mirth replaced by concern. He shifts onto one elbow, focusing on you, the drowsiness evaporating from his gaze. "Are you hurting again?"

"Swollen," you confess, trying to adjust your position. "Can't find a comfortable spot."

His brow furrows, and he glances over at James and Remus, who are still asleep. Then he turns back to you, eyes full of resolve. "Let's get you out of here for a bit," he suggests, his tone low but insistent. "You need to stretch."

Silently, he slips out of bed, careful not to disturb the others. He pulls your wheelchair closer, then helps you sit up, supporting your arm as you push yourself upright. His movements are swift, yet there's a gentleness in his touch that speaks volumes.

Once you're settled in the chair, he drapes a blanket over your lap—taken from the foot of his own bed—and gives you an appraising look. "Better?"

You nod, a small measure of relief washing over you as the tension eases from your joints. The blanket provides a layer of warmth against the chill seeping into your bones.

A grin tugs at the corners of Sirius' mouth, and for a moment, you catch a glimpse of the boy who relishes in rule-breaking and adventure. "Let's sneak down to the kitchen," he whispers, leaning in so only you can hear. "I'll nick us something good to eat."

"You're incorrigible," you mutter, but there's no hiding the small smile tugging at your lips.

"That's why you love me," he retorts, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before rising from his chair. His hand finds the back of your wheelchair, fingers curling around the handles with practiced ease. You can't suppress the laughter that bubbles up as you both begin to move, a pair of conspirators leaving the room under the watchful eyes of painted ancestors.

The castle seems to hold its breath as you enter the deserted Gryffindor common room, its usual vibrancy muted by the late hour. Only the embers of the fire remain, their glow a faint echo of earlier festivities. The heat of the room lingers, a stark contrast to the chill creeping in from the stone corridors beyond, yet Sirius stays close, his hand never straying far from your chair.

Being out of bed already feels like a victory, but it's the knowledge that Sirius is there—his presence unwavering—that soothes the persistent ache in your body.

****

The kitchens are a hive of activity even at this late hour, the house-elves preparing breakfast for the morning. The smell of fresh bread and brewing tea fills the air, bringing a sense of comfort that only home-cooked food can provide.

"Hey, could we get something to eat?" Sirius asks, his voice cutting through the clatter of pots and pans. At his words, the nearest house-elf turns, its large eyes widening in recognition.

"Of course!" it squeaks, rushing off before Sirius can protest the formal address. "Just some toast or biscuits, please," he calls after it, though whether the elf hears him over the din is unclear.

Moments later, a tray appears on the counter, laden with buttered toast, a selection of biscuits, and two steaming mugs of tea. Sirius nudges you towards it, hopping onto an adjacent stool himself. You take a tentative sip of the hot brew, feeling its warmth spread through your chilled bones and soothe your raw throat.

"Feeling better?" he asks, voice softer now, laced with an undertone of concern you've seldom heard from him. His gaze is intense, watching for any sign of discomfort or pain.

"Somewhat," you admit, setting the empty mug down with a soft clink against the stone countertop. "Not completely, but... it helps. Everything you're doing—it helps."

A shadow of a smile graces his features, not quite reaching his eyes, but there nonetheless. His hand moves of its own accord, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your forehead. "Good," he murmurs, almost to himself. "That's all I care about."

The two of you sit there for a while, the only sound the occasional clink of teacups and the distant rustle of wind outside. You eat cookies, laps warmed by mugs, Sirius leaning back on his hands. Every so often, his knee bumps against yours, a simple contact that seems to say, I'm here. I've got you.

You watch him, this man who is both storm and shelter, wild yet steadfast. There’s a heat in your chest that has nothing to do with the tea. It's strange how someone can be both the lightning that splits the sky and the lighthouse guiding you home. But that's what Sirius is to you—a beacon in the dark, chaos wrapped in comfort. Whenever you feel lost or overwhelmed, he is there, always, ready to pull you back from the edge.

Eventually, the tea runs out, and the cookies are reduced to crumbs. Sirius pushes off the counter, joints creaking slightly as he stands. "Ready to head back?" he asks, but there's no urgency in his voice. He would stay here all night if that's what you needed.

You nod, feeling a bit more grounded. "Yeah, let's go."

The journey back to your room is slow, the silence of the castle wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Sirius pushes the wheelchair with an easy grace, his focus entirely on you. The cool stone floors echo softly under the wheels, a whispering lullaby that adds to the peacefulness of the night.

By the time Sirius helps you back into bed, James and Remus are still fast asleep, their chests rising and falling in a rhythm that speaks of deep, untroubled slumber. You watch as Sirius tucks the blanket around you, his movements gentle and precise. He then settles beside you, his presence a solid wall of warmth against the chill seeping through the castle walls.

This time, when he drapes an arm over you, you don't pull away. Instead, you lean into his touch, letting your body relax against his. His breath fans across your skin, slow and steady, and with each exhale, you feel a little more of the tension leave your body.

"Thank you," you murmur, so quietly it's barely audible.

Sirius shifts slightly, his arm tightening around you. "Anytime, baby," he whispers back, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against your back. "Anytime."

[stromuprisahat]

Disgusting old man, pure innocent heroine and the boy she’ll end up with

As mentioned here, I’ve read Angela Carter’s variation on Bluebeard’s wife and some passages remind me of how are we supposed to perceive Darklina, Alina as a heroine and her amazing endgame:

His wedding gift, clasped round my throat. A choker of rubies, two inches wide, like an extraordinarily precious slit throat.

~> Morozova’s collar anyone?

And I saw myself, suddenly, as he saw me, my pale face, the way the muscles in my neck stuck out like thin wire. I saw how much that cruel necklace became me. And, for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption that took my breath away.

~> Heroine corrupted by a piece of  jewellery around her neck?

And there lay the grand, hereditary matrimonial bed, itself the size, almost, of my little room at home, with the gargoyles carved on its surfaces of ebony, vermilion lacquer, gold leaf; and its white gauze curtains, billowing in the sea breeze. Our bed. And surrounded by so many mirrors! Mirrors on all the walls, in stately frames of contorted gold, that reflected more white lilies than I'd ever seen in my life before.

~> Don’t forget girls, if he wants to fuck you on a huge bed in front of a mirror, he’s secretly evil.

I lay in bed alone. And I longed for him. And he disgusted me.

~> Alina’s feelings for Aleksander in a nutshell.

I could not take refuge in my bedroom, for that retained the memory of his presence trapped in the fathomless silvering of his mirrors. My music room seemed the safest place, although I looked at the picture of Saint Cecilia with a faint dread; what had been the nature of her martyrdom? My mind was in a tumult; schemes for flight jostled with one another ... as soon as the tide receded from the causeway, I would make for the mainland--on foot, running, stumbling; I did not trust that leather-clad chauffeur, nor the well-behaved housekeeper, and I dared not take any of the pale, ghostly maids into my confidence, either, since they were his creatures, all. Once at the village, I would fling myself directly on the mercy of the gendarmerie.

But--could I trust them, either? His forefathers had ruled this coast for eight centuries, from this castle whose moat was the Atlantic. Might not the police, the advocates, even the judge, all be in his service, turning a common blind eye to his vices since he was milord whose word must be obeyed? Who, on this distant coast, would believe the white-faced girl from Paris who came running to them with a shuddering tale of blood, of fear, of the ogre murmuring in the shadows? Or, rather, they would immediately know it to be true. But were all honour-bound to let me carry it no further.

~> Less chaste Winter Fete with no Baghra in sight. The monstrosity of her spouse is discovered by the heroine herself.

The door slowly, nervously opened and I saw, not the massive, irredeemable bulk of my husband but the slight, stooping figure of the piano-tuner, and he looked far more terrified of me than my mother's daughter would have been of the Devil himself. In the torture chamber, it seemed to me that I would never laugh again; now, helplessly, laugh I did, with relief, and, after a moment's hesitation, the boy's face softened and he smiled a little, almost in shame. Though they were blind, his eyes were singularly sweet.

~> Gods, I wish this was Malina. This girl’s better choice is shy, sweet, blind piano-tuner. She’s a pianist btw.

He took my hand; he pressed his arms about me. Although he was scarcely more than a boy, I felt a great strength flow into me from his touch.

~> Little comforts between the endgame couple.

'Oh, madame! I thought all these were old wives' tales, chattering of fools, spooks to scare bad children into good behaviour! Yet how could you know, a stranger, that the old name for this place is the Castle of Murder?'

How could I know, indeed? Except that, in my heart, I'd always known its lord would be the death of me.

~> “In my heart, I knew that Baghra was right.” The Darkling also has a reputation full of horrors.

I pulled the curtains close, stripped off my clothes and pulled the bedcurtains round me as a pungent aroma of Russian leather assured me my husband was once again beside me.

'Dearest!'

With the most treacherous, lascivious tenderness, he kissed my eyes, and, mimicking the new bride newly wakened, I flung my arms around him, for on my seeming acquiescence depended my salvation.

'Da Silva of Rio outwitted me,' he said wryly.' My New York agent telegraphed Le Havre and saved me a wasted journey. So we may resume our interrupted pleasures, my love.'

~> Good thing we have Baghra to save us from this. Shadow and Bone never even got to pleasures...

'Go and get them.'

'Now? This moment? Can't it wait until morning, my darling?'

I forced myself to be seductive. I saw myself, pale, pliant as a plant that begs to be trampled underfoot, a dozen vulnerable, appealing girls reflected in as many mirrors, and I saw how he almost failed to resist me. If he had come to me in bed, I would have strangled him, then.

But he half-snarled: 'No. It won't wait. Now.'

~> Unfortunatelly Alina lacks agency and could never openly use her sexuality as a weapon. Closest we get is when she uses the Darkling’s longing for company at the end of Siege and Storm, but that's very chaste, suicidal alternative.

The evidence of that bloody chamber had showed me I could expect no mercy. Yet, when he raised his head and stared at me with his blind, shuttered eyes as though he did not recognize me, I felt a terrified pity for him, for this man who lived in such strange, secret places that, if I loved him enough to follow him, I should have to die.

The atrocious loneliness of that monster!

~> The Darkling... do I need to explain?

'You do not deserve this,' he [the boy] said.

'Who can say what I deserve or no?' I said. 'I've done nothing; but that may be sufficient reason for condemning me.'

'You disobeyed him,' he said. 'That is sufficient reason for him to punish you.'

~> The irony of Alina’s true sin being “I’ve done nothing.” and certain people claiming it’s disobedience... 

My lover [the boy] kissed me, he took my hand. He would come with me if I would lead him.

~> You are my nation, you are my flag..

On her eighteenth birthday, my mother had disposed of a man-eating tiger that had ravaged the villages in the hills north of Hanoi. Now, without a moment's hesitation, she raised my father's gun, took aim and put a single, irreproachable bullet through my husband's head.

We lead a quiet life, the three of us. I inherited, of course, enormous wealth but we have given most of it away to various charities. The castle is now a school for the blind, though I pray that the children who live there are not haunted by any sad ghosts looking for, crying for, the husband who will never return to the bloody chamber, the contents of which are buried or burned, the door sealed.

~> Once the monster’s slain, they life of charity and caring about others.

No paint nor powder, no matter how thick or white, can mask that red mark on my forehead [done by magical tainted key]; I am glad he cannot see it--not for fear of his revulsion, since I know he sees me clearly with his heart--but, because it spares my shame.

~> At the end of the trilogy, Alina remains physically untainted. Unlike the piano-tuner, Malyen had no problem feeling disgusted by Alina’s involvement with the Darkling, although the retcon tried to persuade us otherwise.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

go on, claim my heart: chapter thirty-four

see my masterpost for what came before this.

Tiny pebbles dig into Keyleth's palms as she holds herself up. She'd been thrown to the side as Percy, in the fastest movement Keyleth has ever witnessed, snatched his gun up from the cavern floor to finish Delilah Briarwood once and for all. Her ears still ring with the sound of the weapon's firing, but as her hearing slowly starts to come back to her, she hears a sound sweeter and more beautiful than the most dulcet tunes: her baby's cries.

She shoves herself off of the ground, launching herself at Vax. "Oh gods, oh gods, let me see her." Vax quickly shuffles Vilya into her arms, and for the first time in a week, Keyleth is holding her daughter. She is crying and laughing and hyperventilating all at once, eyes roaming over each inch of the squalling baby in her arms to verify, yes, two hands, two feet, all the fingers and toes, nose and ears and dusting of strawberry blonde on her head, just like Keyleth had when she was a child. She is curled over Vilya, making half-hearted attempts to calm her—a tall order when she can hardly calm herself—and she feels a pair of arms circle around her. She sinks into Vax's chest, Vilya nestled between them, and finally, finally, her little family is together again.

As she holds her daughter, she can feel that she is lighter than she'd been before she was taken. Worry twists her stomach into knots. "Vax," she murmurs, and he pulls back to look at her. "I think she's lost weight. I don't know if they've been feeding her."

Vax nods, face drawn. "Right." To Pike, he says, "Heal Percy as best you can. We'll be back." Then he ushers Keyleth to the shadowed edges of the cavern, where they are out of sight from the others.

Keyleth immediately settles herself on the floor, back resting against a stony wall, and begins to feed Vilya. It takes a minute or two for Vilya to remember how to feed, and in that time panic spreads like hoarfrost across Keyleth's skin, worry that she will struggle to eat when she is so clearly underfed, but then the baby latches, and Keyleth has long given up hope of stemming the tide of tears streaming down her face. Vax slides down to sit next to her, kissing her cheek and playing with Vilya's tiny foot.

"We did it, Kiki," he whispers, pressing a kiss to each of Vilya's toes. "We found her."

Keyleth's finger is trapped in Vilya's impossibly small fist, the baby's own fingers curled tightly around it as if she is terrified to let go. "I will not breathe easy until she is home in Zephrah, until Pike and Nel both confirm that she will be alright." She tips her head onto Vax's shoulder and lets her eyes slide shut. This has been the longest week of her life, and she is so very tired.

They let Vilya eat as long as they dare, but Keyleth knows they need to move before any new threat comes their way. Vilya gurgles, disgruntled, when she is moved back into her father's arms so that Keyleth can right herself, and then the family returns to the others, who have been joined by the three women Vax freed from the cage. The eldest of the trio looks a bit worse for wear, with a massive bruise along one side of her jaw and scorch marks in her clothes, but they are all alive. The teenage girl is helping Vex pull Percy to his feet; he, too, has clearly seen better days, but Keyleth can see the evidence of Pike's magic at work in the closed hole in his jaw and lightened bruising around his neck, though drying blood still cakes his face and hair. Keyleth immediately wraps her arms around him, whispering into his ear, "I'm sorry. Thank you, and I'm so, so sorry."

Percy squeezes her tightly. "I told you, there was nothing I wouldn't do to bring Vilya home. I was not joking."

"We ought to move," Vex says, gripping her bow tightly. "I don't know what other cronies the Briarwoods might have had in their employ, and I would very much like to get the hell out of this city."

Keyleth is not going to argue that point. The group begins its trek out of the tunnels, emerging onto the edge of the Parchwood after navigating through the underground unimpeded. Vex starts to lead the way toward where Scanlan and Grog were told to go with Cassandra, but the three freed women pull in the opposite direction.

"We'll head back into town," the eldest one says, now being supported on either side by the other two. "We'll spread the word of the Briarwoods' demise, and of your return, Lord de Rolo."

Percy stiffens, pale in the white light of the moon. "I...would ask that you not make any promises in that regard. My situation is...complicated, and I don't wish to let the people of Whitestone down any more than I already have. Please, go to the abandoned tea shop in the Northern Ward. Chancellor Desnay is hiding there. He will lead until..." He sighs. "Until more permanent arrangements can be made."

The three nod, and then Keyleth has an idea. "I think I can help you spread the word." She stretches her hands up toward the night sky, an inky blue blotted with wispy gray winter clouds, and begins to twist and curl her fingers. She can feel the moisturize in the air, though it's dry this time of year, and pulls on it as one might threads of a tapestry. She weaves the invisible strands around and around, pushing and pulling until the clouds have coalesced into a shape she remembers from the buttons of the tattered coat Percy arrived in all those years ago: a broad tree surrounded by a half-circle of stars. The de Rolo crest.

A hand grips onto Keyleth's shoulder, and she turns to see Percy gazing up at the symbol with tears in his eyes. "I...Keyleth..."

Her arms drop. "Whether or not you return to Whitestone to lead your people, they should know that the de Rolos have not been vanquished by the Briarwoods—and that Whitestone itself hasn't, either."

Percy pulls her into a hug. It is such a relief to hold him, to feel his chest rise and fall, the steady rhythm of his heart. She is glad that she will not have to tell her daughter stories of the man who died to save her life, that she will grow up knowing that man herself.

The Zephrans bid farewell to the three women, and then Vex leads them through the woods, having little trouble tracking Grog's large footsteps even in such low light. As they walk, Keyleth leans heavily into Vax's side, his arm around her shoulders. Vilya has been returned to her arms, and Keyleth barely watches where they walk. She can't take her eyes off of her baby, the miracle nestled into the crook of her elbow. Now that she holds her, that she knows by her gentle wriggling and curious coos up at the world around her that she is very much alive, Keyleth can release the levee that had been holding at bay a tidal wave of doubt and fear. She can admit to herself all the skepticism she'd been harboring since she left Zephrah, how sure she'd been that they would be too late, that they would not be enough, she would not be enough to save her daughter's life. The force of it nearly sends her to her knees, but she keeps walking, knowing each step brings her closer to proving herself wrong once and for all.

It is not hard to miss the mountain that is Grog when they come upon him. Once the two groups are in sight of each other, Cassandra darts forward from behind the goliath, calling, "Percy?" Percy takes a few long, lanky steps forward, and Cassandra gasps. "What happened?"

Percy merely gathers her into a hug. "I'm alright, I promise. We're going to get out of here."

"But what of the Briarwoods? Of Whitestone? Are we safe to—"

"Cass." He puts his hands on either side of her face. "There are a great many things to discuss, to figure out. And I promise you we will have those discussions, but not here. I must get you and the princesses to safety in Zephrah."

"But that's days away."

"It's not." Keyleth carefully shuffles Vilya back to Vax—both of them are so reluctant to give her up, so eager to have her back again—and steps forward to the mighty pine tree that Scanlan and Grog have selected. It's perfect for the job. "I can get us there tonight." She hopes; she's expended so much energy this night, and this task will cost her more yet. She settles her palms against the tree. "We will have very little time, so please, hurry through."

Vax kisses Vilya's forehead before passing her over to Vex, who nods and moves to the front of the queue gathering before the tree trunk. Cassandra begins to speak—likely to ask what in the hells is going on—but Percy merely steers her behind Vex, murmuring instructions for her to run forward when Vex does. Grog takes a gnome in each arm and lines up behind Percy, and Vax comes to stand just beside Keyleth, the last one through before her.

Keyleth bows her head and focuses on the cherry tree beside the cottage back in Zephrah. This time of year, the leaves are long gone, the branches bare and reaching, fingers clawing up toward the heavens. Her mother is buried there, her memory enriching the soil for the tree and the grass and the little girl who will someday climb those branches, just as Keyleth did, once upon a time. She wants nothing more than to be on that rolling hill, to see the home she has built with her husband, the castle from which she will someday rule hazy in the moonlit distance. She concentrates on the want, and the bark beneath her hands begins to hum. She does not need to open her eyes to see when, a moment later, the trunk has twisted and cracked open into a doorway.

The Zephrans know what to do, spilling one after the other through the portal. Keyleth can feel the energy being sapped from her body. Her limbs shake with the force of keeping the gate open. Vax's hand leaves its spot on her back, and a heartbeat later, he calls, "Come through!"

Her eyes snap open. She releases the tree and bolts through the hole in the trunk just as it seals shut behind her. She tumbles into Vax's arms, and she has to blink to realize that the party, now on the mercifully familiar grounds of the Zephran castle, is surrounded on all sides by the points of swords. There is shouting and chaos, the Royal Guard clearly spooked by the sudden appearance of so many in the middle of the night, but then Vex barks, "Lower your weapons, you fools! You threaten the princesses!"

One by one, the swords fall, and then the door to the cottage opens. Illuminated by a single candle, Lady Allura appears, relief coloring her face. "Oh thank the gods!" She scurries up to the tree, gives a half-bow, and says quickly, "We weren't sure if you'd be returning to the castle or to here, so we've been watching both places. Is—have you—?"

It's clear that Allura doesn't know how to ask the question, but Vax gives her the answer anyway. "Vilya is with us." He nods to his sister, who is still holding her. "We found her."

Allura clutches her chest. "Thank the gods."

Keyleth is so exhausted she can barely stand. "Lady Allura, please, go wake my father. He will want to know that we have returned."

A strange look crosses Allura's face. "I...Your Majesty..."

"I know he can be cross when woken, believe me, but this is clearly a special circumstance. I promise, he will be overjoyed to know that Vilya is home safe."

"I...we should...gods above..."

Annoyance prickles along Keyleth's skin. "I'm serious, Lady Allura. Please, I can hardly keep my eyes open, but I must see my father before—"

"Keyleth." Vax's arm is tight around her now, and there's a note of something dangerous in his voice. Keyleth looks to him, and his eyes are wide, staring at Allura in disbelief. Something passes between him and Allura, and Keyleth's annoyance melts into confusion.

"What's going on?"

Vax swallows. "I...we ought to go inside. Please, let's just get inside the house."

Keyleth wrenches herself from his grasp. "What is going on?"

Just then, it hits her, a realization as sharp and quick as a viper's strike. Your Majesty. No one has ever called Keyleth that, and no one will, not until—

"Where is he?" Keyleth doesn't recognize her own voice, twisted and haunted. She watches the circle of guards turn their faces away from her. Bile rises in her throat. "Where is he? Where is my father?"

Tears drip down Lady's Allura's cheeks, glittering like diamonds in the candlelight. "Your Majesty...he is gone."

The sorrow on Allura's face is the last thing Keyleth sees before her eyes roll back in her head and she swoons back, collapsing into total darkness.

[melon-official]

34

bau·ble (noun; ˈbôb(ə)l,ˈbäb(ə)l):

a small, showy trinket or decoration.

[HISTORICAL] a baton formerly used as an emblem by jesters.

Last time he answered the call of the emergency sirens, the howl of a King Salmonid had nearly knocked him down the way it pierced through his eardrums and pinned his heart to the ground—but that was months ago.

Now it wasn't his first rodeo; he'd been through the wear and tear of days on the job like this already. He'd been in and out of the Academy's green spaces for the past forty-eight hours. He knew his way over its walls and atop its vantage points as if he'd spent his college career exploring it.

Now, in the wake of the Horrorboros' mangled warning cry, underneath the glimmer of its baubles and the glare of its scales in the wine-dark ether, Ramen Water stared it in the face and grinned.

"You're dumb as fuck if you think learning anything about this language will help you FIGHT them better," sounded a voice from several feet above his head. A pair of O.R.C.A. socks entered his field of vision. "If anything, wouldn't understanding more conversation on the clock make you less focused?"

"What would you know," he replied from the living room floor without a trace of malice, amidst Funyun and the mess of papers he'd compiled and printed from the internet. "You haven't clocked into work a day in your life."

Glory suppressed a laugh. "Maybe not, knothead, but I most definitely have learned a language."

Interested in nothing more than bloodlust and proper aim, the Horrorboros wound around the uppermost threshold of the Academy as its prey flailed against the might of the Salmonid militia. Natural as lightning formed the projectile between its jaws, and cool as a cucumber it glanced at the world below for an advantageous spot to let its cargo drop—

—but soft! one of the wrigglers had a sniper beam trained point-blank at its face. Before it could register its predicament the bomb exploded in its mouth. The King's eyes squinted shut, recoiling from the sting of enemy ink, but all too soon another unseen shock rocked their composure; that cocky little thing with the sniper turned his shielded face to the sky and spoke. Real, intelligible words. High-pitched, garbled half-nonsense words, sure, but by the tides it would know the sound of its mother tongue out of the smallest worthless mouth in the world.

< Hey, --- --one,> he taunted, baring a full set of miniscule razor-sharp teeth from the far end of his weapon, <what- --at mouth do??>

Half in shock, half in aggravation, the Horrorboros whipped about in the sky and stared its enemy down mere inches from his fragile head, with a fleeting impulse to snatch the thing up in its maw and reward his bout of vulgarity, but instead of flesh its teeth met the cold steel of a sniper rifle—

—and lo! the pest braced his foot on the barrel and propelled himself upwards, knocking the damned weapon against its gums with a sickening crunch— and a roar at a sudden burst of pressure on its skull—the infernal creature had climbed atop its head!

Enough! Violently it shook the thing free before he could cause it any more humiliation; his puny form compressed in mid-air and shot to safety behind the stock-still forms of his battalion. His weapon laid mangled on the surface of his perch, and even from the skies the King could make out an angry buzzing from whatever sort of communication system the land-dwellers used. Somehow, that didn't seem to bother him at all.

Amidst the stunned silence he'd created, despite the tension (or because of it, even!) the strange and terrible little creature howled with laughter.

[kaizanna]

The Company You Keep

The Blood Pet

Predator/prey dynamics, Astarionxf!Tav

____________________________

For the first time since their formal introduction, there was no trace of the tiefling’s usual charming smile, and her doe-like silver eyes were bright with alarm. Stepping back, the little beast tried to gain control over her expression again, but the damage was done. There was no missing how those fluffy ears pressed against her skull, how she curled her tail between her knees, or the sudden racing of her heart.

The instinct to hunt roared through Astarion at the recognition of her fear, hunger clawing so insistently that he felt lightheaded. She looked so deliciously defenseless, like a lamb separated from the herd. Prowling nearer, he breathed in her scent; the subtle sweetness of honeysuckle and musky sandalwood paired deliciously with the tartness of fright, making his mouth water.

First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures.

Like a bucket of ice water was dumped down his head, Cazador's voice made Astarion falter mid-step. Of course. Of fucking course! The first time I've ever even felt the fucking urge to hunt someone, and I-

“I don't know where my master is, and even if I did- I wouldn't tell you anything.” As defiant as she tried to sound, the poor darling's melodic voice still quavered, and she was practically prancing in place, cloven hooves splashing in the water.

For once in his miserable undeath, that bastard's voice was drowned out by that vicious roaring tide of predatory need.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Feeling much like a cat with a mouse, the elf was torn between wanting to toy with her, and to pounce. With his shoes just barely out of the reach of the running water, she was also just out of reach. Briefly, he considered the rushing waters, before returning his attention to the tiefling. “That's not what I asked you, is it?” With a tentative step, Astarion submerged his foot. Under normal circumstances it should feel like acid brining his flesh, but now the only consequences were a wet foot, and a soggy sock.

Another boon granted by my squirming little friend, I see.

Emboldened, Astarion took another step forward, and watched her run her back into the rough stone of the cavern with satisfaction. The little beast's gaze flitted to her left and right, desperately searching for an escape. It was too late now, of course. Even if she screamed to awaken the others, there was nothing she could do to get away from him in time.

Though, it might have been fun if she had run.

Looming over her now, he braced his left hand against the wall beside her head, trapping her between him and the wall. Before he could settle in above her, she tried to use one of her little black horns to gore his cheek. Dodging her effort, he snatched a horn with his free hand, and yanked her head to the side, fully exposing her neck to him. Lavishing in the feeling of predatory adoration, he leaned down to coo his next words into her ear. “I asked… What. Might. You. Be?”

Even with inches between their bodies, he could feel her shivering, causing his canines to ache all over again. Focusing on the bites on the left side of her neck, Astarion studied them with vague interest. There was a relatively fresh bite on this side of her slender neck, perhaps having been made the same day she had been abducted. The scars around them, however, were deep and white from age. Clearly, the beast had been with her master for a considerable amount of time, and must have been fed from often.

Watching that lovely, frantic heartbeat jumping against the scarred skin of her throat, the desire to leave the imprint of his own fangs grew stronger.

What if I can bite her? I can walk in the sun, walk through running water- the rules of the vampire are broken. Why would Cazador's rules be any different? Astarion speculated, only to be drawn back to the present by her voice.

“I don't know what you-” Though she had tried to sound confident, a growl from him silenced her immediately, and he watched her throat as she swallowed nervously.

“Don't lie now, lamb. It's unbecoming.” For a moment, it seemed she was going to try to stay silent, but another rumbling growl brought her answer.

“I'm a blood pet…” Astarion grinned victoriously at her whimpered confession. Of course he'd been right. Between a vampire's thrall and a vampire's pet, her charms and behavior certainly had the airs of a cherished pet indeed. Willing servants like her kind were plentiful at the palace; pathetic little mortals all too happy to serve their bodies and blood to Cazador for the vaguest promise of his gift. Despite the contempt he felt for what she was, he nuzzled at the soft shell of her ear, tracing a path down her jaw where he placed a mockingly sweet kiss that left her covered in goosebumps.

“And now, do you know what I am?”

“I- I don't know.”

“I think you do, actually. In fact, I think somewhere deep in that fluttering heart of yours, you've known since you met me.” Astarion was thrilled with the sound of her skipping heart when his words sunk in. Though she tried to shove him away, it felt half hearted at best. Keeping her subdued was a simple matter of pinning her body fully with his, allowing him a chance to savor in her warmth.

“But vampires can't walk in the daylight!” She hissed defiantly, keeping her voice surprisingly low.

“Nor can we walk through flowing water, but here I am, aren't I?”

“But how?” Here, the beast sounded so sweetly bewildered, that he couldn't help but to chuckle, his lips close enough to brush the shell of her ear. Though it caused another shiver, there was little something other than fear in the action this time.

“Your guess is as good as mine, darling. Now, I must say- I am utterly famished and you smell delicious…” Astarion ran his lips over the healing bite wound, and opened his mouth wide, ready to add his own imprints to her skin when she spoke.

“Not my neck, please.” Though the plea was whispered, it surprised him enough to release her. . It was not the kind of request he'd been expecting. Retreating a step, he examined her tear-ruddied face with bewilderment

“What?”

“My neck belongs to my master.” The woman didn't look at him, just raised her hands to her face to wipe away the freely falling tears. So engulfed in his hunger, he'd barely noticed when she'd begun, and a pang of something he couldn't quite place gave him further pause. 

It would be a lie if he tried to say he hadn't had her pegged as an easy target from the moment he'd laid eyes on her, though for what was currently at war in his mind. As a shield? As a meal? As a gift for Cazador if everything blew up spectacularly in his face? Yet here she was, only concerned that he not bite her neck so she may continue to be her master's loyal beast. Though he loathed to admit it to himself now, he could only find her pitiful as she suddenly looked at him through resigned eyes.

“And that's your only request?”

“Perhaps don't kill me?”

Of course the concern for her own life is only secondary. Outwardly, he scoffed, bringing his hand over his dead heart like she had wounded him.

“I'm offended darling- truly. I know I came on a lit~tle strongly just now, but I did mean it when I said I was famished.” Astarion offered a deceitfully contrite smile. “And I must say, I've never had a darling little treat like you under fang before. Things like pigs, chickens,-” Rats. “- and other smaller game are my usual fare. Whatever I can catch, really.” Offering the hand he’d held over his heart, he continued. “So I do apologize for scaring you- I didn't intend to take my little game so far... Forgive me?”

The creature eyed his hand cautiously, before searching his eyes. Either she really was that easy to manipulate, or she had no idea what to do without a vampire around, because she placed her petite hand in his after only a short debate.

Far too easy.

Herding her back to the stoney bank of the underground river, Astarion brought her to sit next to her stack of clothing, then knelt beside her. With care, he flipped her arm over to expose her veins, and realized it too, was painted in old scars. These scars were very clearly made by a blade however, and the man wondered idly if he would be the first besides her master to bite her. Encircling her delicate wrist with one hand, he cupped her elbow in the other, and raised his crimson gaze to meet her silver stare. Since she was watching, he placed a kiss over one of the palest of the scars, and was amused by the gooseflesh that rose to cover every inch of her slate gray skin.

Partaking in blood had never been something Astarion found pleasure in. Choking down fetid rat blood whilst trying not to vomit in front of Cazador was commonplace. Their fur was always utterly vile from the odor and taste of the sewers, and the nauseating flavor was drawn in with every mouthful of blood. Chickens were a little better, since he was able to rip out fistfulls of the dusty feathers before drinking their musty flavored blood. After a particularly bright idea, he bought a bucket of pig blood under the guise of making it into a pudding. The blood had a nutty hint to it, and although he’d considered it among the least offensive tastes he’d come across, that was only so if he managed to get it right after slaughter.

Assuming this would be akin to the latter experience if he was lucky, Astarion sheathed his fangs in her skin. The first taste of her blood cast away all but two words.

Well…Shit.

Unable to control his own body, the spawn curled his whole body around her arm possessively, withdrawing his teeth to let her blood flow unhindered into his greedy mouth. With every beat of her heart, warmth spread through him, chasing away the pervasive chill that had coiled deep in his bones for as long as he could remember. Despite doing his best to keep up with her pulse, it felt as though he could never swallow fast enough, and he distantly mourned the steady stream that dripped down his chin.

All too soon, he could feel her heart start to slow, and as desperate as he was to drink the tiefling dry, he could feel her tadpole connecting with his. It was a wordless communication, and without wholly understanding why, he pressed his tongue firmly against the two puncture marks. Slowly, the wound knit together under his tongue. Once the bleeding had come to an end, Astarion gently lapped at blood that was cooling on her skin.

How long did I drink? Two minutes? Three? The spawn’s thoughts floated pleasantly through his head. It was a strange feeling- like being blissfully intoxicated, but also so intensely clear that it was like a fog was lifting from all his senses. Once her arm was free from any stray drops, he slowly released her, watching her arm come to rest next to a small pool of her own blood that had dripped down her thigh.  Raising a hand, he caught the lingering traces of his meal from his chin, and began to lick his fingers. Staring idly at her spread thighs, he debated on bending over to lick away the small trails there. But then, her thighs were stained with a nectar other than blood as well.

Tracing his gaze up her body, he noted the sprinkling of both a pale-silver and dusky-gray freckles over her wide hips. They came again to decorate from her narrow shoulders, and continued down the slopes of her breasts. Some time during his feeding, she had covered her face with her free arm, and must have bitten her lip in a bid to remain silent judging from the little punctures he spied there. Now though, she uncovered her face enough to stare through half-lidded eyes. Such a hazy look of pleasure was one he had seen before, though never truly worn himself.

Is that really all it takes for her? Lazily rising to his feet, he began to roll his neck, closing his eyes and enjoying the unfamiliar sensation radiating through his body. If only half of my other marks were as easy to bring to release. He didn’t bother to quiet the humorless chuckle that accompanied that thought.

“Do you feel better, Astarion? You certainly look better.” The woman’s tone was relaxed and clear, nothing like the trembling lamb he’d very nearly attacked. Amused, he opened his eyes to give her a playful response.

“I must say, I feel like I’ve drank an entire bottle of mead in a single sitting.” A dazzling laugh danced through the cave at his compliment.

“I’ve been compared to alcohol many times. Careful you don’t become an alcoholic.” The wink she gave at the warning was flirty, and he found himself offering her a wicked grin in response. 

He liked the way her heart skipped at the sight.

“I’ll have to be quite careful, it seems. But I do have to ask-” Astarion let his gaze drift down pointedly between her legs, before returning to meet her unabashed stare. “Does that happen often for you?”

“Often enough.” She admitted casually, though she sat up, crossing her legs at the ankle and cupping her hands in her lap. If she was fully dressed, he could have mistaken her for a noble.

“Ah… Is that why your neck belongs to your master?”

So quickly did a look of shame cross her face at the question, that Astarion very nearly missed it; when her smile had returned so sincerely, he doubted what he saw.

“You can certainly say that. Now then, if you don’t mind- it seems I’ll have to wash myself again, thanks to a certain messy someone.” Standing on shaking legs, she gave him a dismissive wave, then quietly clopped back into the river where her bathing supplies now lay scattered.

Though he stared at her scar streaked back for several long seconds, the vampire turned, and made his way to the hidden ladder. It wasn’t until he felt the clear night air caressing his face that he realized something.

The tiefling had used magic to charm him when their tadpoles connected. Though not a word had been spoken, she had gotten him to heal her wound- something he didn’t know he could do- and withdraw, despite his original intention to simply drain her to the last drop.

Fury coursed through him, his lip pulling over one fang in an awful sneer.

Me? She charmed me? How dare that wretched little- Slamming the trapdoor closed, he stormed away, gritting his teeth hard enough for them to ache once more, and clenching his fists hard enough for his nails to bite into his skin. The scent of his own blood disturbed him from his mental cursing, and he paused to look down at his hand in the moonlight.

Only a few hours ago, his blood had dripped like heavy molasses when one of those bandits had managed to hit him with an arrow, yet it now dripped freely. Of course he knew it was thanks to her that he felt this good, and that it was her blood that seeped from his wound so easily. Bringing the palm of his bleeding hand to his mouth, Astarion licked it away, only barely able to find traces of the honey-like sweetness of her blood beneath his own bitter flavor. As soon as it dawned on him he was actually searching for her taste, he scowled to himself, and pressed his tongue to the wound. When he pulled his hand back to examine it, he found the tiny wound healed over like it had never even been.

I suppose I can forgive her for charming me, just this once. Astarion mused to himself. Since she did feed me willingly. The rustling of a distant bush drew his attention, and he crouched low, turning on the balls of his feet in the direction it came from. The nearer he prowled, the stronger the scent of swine became, and the louder the quiet snorts became.

Pouncing, Astarion broke the boar’s front leg before the animal knew he was even there. As it squealed, he snapped his fangs into its jugular, practically tearing the artery apart. Blood gushed into his maw while the boar’s cries slowly faded into silence, its lashing hooves falling still. Once there wasn’t a single drop of blood remaining, the elf stood, wiping his face and looking down at his meal with disgust.

Wild and stinking, its odor pervaded his nose, and the bland flavor of the boar’s blood lay thickly on his tongue. Spitting out the remaining mouthful, a fresh scowl darkened his expression as he comprehended a massive drawback from drinking the tiefling’s blood.

Having lived his whole life drinking what amounted to gutter water, Astarion couldn’t fathom having to return to this. Drinking only from unthinking creatures, tasting and scenting only the malodorous and vile? Watching the people around him, and knowing each and every one was like an entire feast of flavors that he could never sample?

Leering down at the boar at his feet, Astarion made a vow to himself. I’ll learn how to control this tadpole, and no one will ever control me again.

—-

The heavy slam of the trapdoor echoed through the underground cavern, causing Vierae’s ears to twitch. Glancing over her shoulder, she waited, barely breathing, as she strained to hear any sounds come from where the encampment was. After several minutes, the woman's whole body deflated, slumping forward to hug at her knees. The shame she had felt from his otherwise playful question came crashing down on her, and she buried her face in her arms, choking back the tears that burned her eyes.

Pathetic animal. Can you not even control yourself in front of your owner? Caretaker Zadock’s sneering words still reverberated through her skull, making her wrap her tail around herself in a weak bid for comfort. Flinching against a phantom blow, she couldn’t chase his voice out of her mind. I eagerly wait for the day he grows tired of your little play and sends you back to the pens. Our master would never waste the gift on a beast like you, after all.

Dirty. I’m so fucking dirty- Vierae couldn’t get the feeling of her caretaker’s fingers off her skin, or his teeth from her neck, despite the years it had been since he had last touched her in such a way.

Snatching the bucket at her side, she filled it with the cold water and dumped it down her head, but it was not the cold that left her shivering. The feeling of her hair moving along her back was like a threatening caress, causing her to drop the bucket in her haste to tie her hair back off her skin. As soon as it was done, she searched for her soap, and found it bobbing between two rocks. While tears fell hotly down her cheeks, Vierae viciously scrubbed her skin, starting between her legs.

The tiefling had never been on the receiving end of her owner’s ire before, and was terrified of what was to become of her now. The elder vampire had given her a great gift of trust, allowing her to travel on the surface in search of finery to decorate his study with. Unlike any of the others in the House, she strongly understood her master’s taste in art and blood. Had he not sent her with Caretaker Zadock and his thralls, Vierae would have considered it to be the greatest honor she had received yet.

And here she was, repaying his trust by not only straying from her caretaker’s side, but also by allowing another to drink from her without his permission. The House would demand an awful penalty upon her, and she could only pray her torn flesh and broken body would be enough to appease them.

Vierae knew if she caused him enough trouble, her master would cast her aside without second thought. If he did, she knew her vicious caretaker would gleefully send her back into the Pens, or worse.

The soap bar slipped from her tightening grip at the memories of the Pens and Zadock’s chambers, and she choked on her silent sobs.

If the woman didn’t bring some sort of gift back with her, the life of finery she had worked so hard to take would slip between her fingers. From the moment he had reached out his hand, the pet had been fiercely loyal to her master; surely, he would understand why she did not return to him if she brought him a worthy gift? The idea of turning into a mind flayer and doing harm to the great House of her master was the only reason she had not rushed back to his side, after all. The tablets she had stolen from the nautiloid were secured in her pack, and she wondered if he would be able to read them. If the tadpole is what allowed her to make sense of them, they would be worthless as anything but paperweights.

Again, Zadock’s malicious laughter echoed through her mind, making her shiver.

They would not be enough. The strange amulet she’d seen Astarion pocket came to mind, but she quickly chased it away. The elf was a vampire, and she knew better than to try and steal from her betters. Then again… what about him? Astarion could walk in the daylight, and traverse through running water. Though he claimed he didn’t know how, if he was merely trying to protect a secret…

No one in the House could doubt my sincerity towards Master Valfein.

A rueful smile covered her face as she dumped the bucket of water over her soapy form. A secret like that would be enough to earn her a pardon from the House, and maybe even grant her freedom. True freedom, like the Pets who had willingly come into the House to serve had. Then, she might never again have to fear returning to the Pens.

Or to those bloodstained sheets.

Shaking the water from her body as she stood, Vierae returned to shore, and quickly dressed. Since the bites on her neck are what had given her away to Astarion, she made sure to take extra care to cover them with the lace collar she wore. Once she was satisfied, she made her way back to the campsite. Gale was still happily snoring away as she opened the door, and it brought a genuine smile to her lips. It seemed like the wizard slept deeply, and the bard found an odd comfort in the sound of life that she so rarely heard.

The sound of a quiet cough drew Vierae’s attention to Shadowheart’s tent, the flap of which was pulled aside to reveal the glaring half-elf. Fixing her face into an apologetic expression, the tiefling followed the beckoning wave the other woman made. Once standing before the tent, the whispered questions began.

“Where were you?” Shadowheart was openly suspicious.

“Bathing.” Reaching up, Vierae undid the messy bun, letting her wet locks hang down to her knees. She could tell by the way Shadowheart flinched, the half-elf had felt the cold water drip on her skin.

“How long have you been gone?”

“I’m not sure.” She lied easily.

“I thought you were keeping watch?”

“I have been- you’ve seen my ears, right?” As though to prove a point, Vierae perked her ears, allowing each one to swivel separately. The other woman only continued to look suspicious.

“Fine. Then I’ll take watch now.”

“Alright- don’t go to the river just yet.” At that statement, Shadowheart glared, climbing out of the tent.

“And why is that?”

“I just passed Astarion- he went to bathe.” The answer seemed to pacify her companion.

“Alright- I have no desire to spy on anyone bathing anyway.Go on then. Get some rest.” Shadowheart said, dismissive.

Obediently, Vierae returned to her own tent, pulling aside the silken flap to disappear inside. Settling onto the soft nest of pillows that made up her bed, she closed her eyes, and forced her breath to become steady. Though she was not as trusting as Gale was, she felt like Shadowheart at the least would look out for her while she slept, if for no other reason than her having come back to open the pod against the githyanki woman’s protests.

[the-firebird69]

Please two are on the bus and they've been watching and watching what's going on so far it's not bad but they're afraid that things might change and people do say that they're going to change and a big war starts and the max are still down there somewhere and yeah they extended NASA to stay but since you know what's going on

You're probably going up there tonight and things are getting kind of precarious and we don't think that it's time yet but it's getting there

The three circles in the park and Charlotte Park to the South of the dump and they are sizzling right now and they have been since around 1:00 p.m. and we were right the lower level of water in and out and right now it's still going in is cut the trench lower they bought a foot and a half and it is now about 8 inches below high tide and yes I would high tide it'll flow in and it's cutting it deeper so it won't come out of it the salt water will keep going in until almost 3:00 a.m. probably 2:00 a.m. and once again it will not start filling and probably till 5:00 a.m. until then it's going to be sizzling so it's only going to be calm for a couple hours for intensive purposes it probably will not be calm from now on because it's going to cut up your trench and it's going pretty fast or 2 in an hour so there won't be any break and it's flowing in pretty good right now that's still kind of thicker

Now people want to know about the ship and they want to know this anomaly

Olympus

Up top

Thor Freya

[ghoulishphantasm]

A short writing thing I wanted to do !

The bustling banquet that crowded the dining hall was nothing to scoff at ; long elegant tables of food and bright torches displayed around for light. The warm summer air of an unusually humid summer in Rome blew through cascading colorful curtains. Even outside the party was humming with movement, for you see past the curtains of the large dining hall was a patio-esque area filled with small more conversation friendly tables. Knights standing near the edges of the marble laid floor, keeping their usual guard as they watched the rich guzzle down any wine they could lay their hands on. Decorative brightly lit candles and ornate flowers alongside tapestries adorned the large marble walls of the great dining hall. Not an inch of the room was to spare with all the guests talking and dancing together. Every member of the court and every member of riches or royalty was there, not to mention the guards and of course the emperor himself. The emperor shone above them all , sitting on his throne he glimmered in untouched elegance. Clad in layers of thin colorful robes, rich satins and silks from distant European lands. The beads and jewelry he adorned couldn't help but shimmer with his few movements. A look of calm pride upon his face, holding his cheek in his palm with an elbow rested on the arm of the chair in which he sat, simply watching the others waltz about and cackle. Like a flurry of birds he watched them all eat and drink, flirt and flaunt with one another, some even disappearing out onto the balconies to enjoy the warm summer air. The emperor was never a fan of his own festivities, he would have been down walking around but it was simply too unsafe. It was frustrating to say the least, how he longed to be down those marble steps with his people ; fingers intertwined with them as they danced and sang old hymns and songs of warmth. Sadly, the slip of a blade or wrong sip of wine was too high a risk and he was sent away to the desolate throne, where only his knight stood beside him.

It made the emperor bitter really, jealous if anything. For all he had to do was sit up in his seat and watch, perhaps offer a few words to those who greeted him ; but his personal guard made it obvious the emperor was not to be trifled with. The great knight stood beside the throne, his bronze armor and helmet giving off a glow from the candles of the room ; stood there quietly. The only thing telling people he was alive and well, not some statue, was the tracking movement of his eyes upon everyone who passed by. Aside from that he tried to keep his eyes off his emperor as well, although it was rather difficult not to marvel at him sitting there so nicely. But he could see the emperor wasn't enjoying himself either, of course he would never propose leaving the banquet even if he knew the emperor might like it ; for he also knew good and well the younger man was quite fiery. His mind wandered away to watch the others again after a moment , of course he wanted to join in, who wouldn't?

The young emperor gave a sigh, it had been quite a while of sitting and he nudged the guards foot with his own , once he had his attention he nodded his head before standing. The guard offered a firm hand to the emperor and guided him off the throne down the steps to leave. When the man stood at the throne the room seemed to fall silent with an infectious hush. “I offer my greatest wishes and tidings , I pray every one of thy has a bountiful evening of entertainment and indulgence.” He spoke slowly, his voice languid but rich with a calm tone. Without another word he raised a hand and the festivities continued, with a hushed curse of annoyance he turned back to the knight and left immediately.Once they had broken away from the bustle of the dining room the emperor was seemingly more relaxed. They made their way to the emperor's room and shut the door behind themselves.

Calmly the emperor sat on his bed and rubbed his face for a moment, the guard slipping off his helmet and sitting beside him. The guard's fingers slipping around the side of the emperor's face softly before kissing his cheek. "May I do anything for you , you seem far from content?" The guard asked, rubbing the side of the emperor's face sweetly with his thumb. The emperor let his cheek rest in the other man's hand , he gave a few silent moments of thought before answering "no , do not worry for me I am well, just a bit cross is all." He replied curtly, not giving much food for conversation before standing up and going to take his many robes off. As he sat down near his vanity he took off the jewelry and headpieces, his fingers gently unweaving his delicate but oddly complicated headwear. Small strings of jewels tapped against his forehead as he removed the main piece and set it aside. “These banquets breed nothing but lustful meetings and trouble “ the younger man complained, really just feeding his own jealousy as he sneered to the knight. Of course the other man couldn't help but chuckle , “if it was not for the wine you had earlier I would believe this little jealousy skit of yours σπουργίτι μου.”

The two continued undressing, the emperor still sitting in an almost posed fashion at his vanity as the knight shed his armor near the doorway.

“You saw the pope with his gaggle of whores did you not?” The emperor asked as he turned his back to the knight and began shedding his own robes. “They hardly looked able to stand, I've seen cranes with broken legs stumble along better, and squawk half as much” he couldn't help but scoff and his knight laughed to himself from across the room. “You paint such colorful pictures in your head, do you spend all your silence picturing drunk women like birds? I always thought the emperor may be a bit more sophisticated.” The guard replied with an amused but cheery tone as he approached the emperor and slipped his arms

around him. The man's broad chin resting on the emperor's narrow shoulder, his nose almost touching the side of his lovers head as he turned to face the side of his face. “So serious” he teased, noting his lovers fed up expression “perhaps you just need to rest, you always get like this after a drink or two huh? So bitter, hateful, remind me not to let you drink when we hold the wedding” the knight teased one last time before letting go and guiding his lover to the edge of the bed where they perched to talk a bit longer before a night of rest. “Now you want to be wed? The court would have my head on a spear if that was to happen” the emperor couldn't stifle his little smile as they spoke. “Perhaps you're right, I've become quite the mongrel.” He admitted with a tone of comfort but light guilt, he never liked upsetting his lover even if he was wound up tight most of the time.

With some coercion the two were finally in bed, nestled up against one another with a silent comfort between the two. Tangled arms and legs spelling out their hidden affection under the thick blankets, it didn't take long for them to fall into the night together. Sleep enveloping them with a soft hand that held no hate for the couple, for their blasphemy.

[seabreeze2022]

Bahama Cruise 2022, Part 20, April 29-30. Salt Pond, Rudder Cut.

This is the outflow from the salt pond on Norman’s Pond Cay. Fairly flat water day. You can see the outgoing current through this man made canal spewing into the sea. The really interesting thing is conch are thick here. What ever the reason, could be the higher water temp or higher salinity, the conch are stacked up side by side.

In the photo on the left you can see the light orange shells of the live conch. The photo on the right shows a man made object at the side of the canal. I assume somehow or another the canal would be damed up and this was some kind of water gate to flood the salt ponds in the interior of the island. I looked up who owned the island. One person owns the north end, one owns the south end. But the middle with the salt pond is still owned by the British Crown.

The young conch have a thinner shell which the turtles easily crunch through. The conch here are mostly juveniles. Apparently the turtles know these are plentiful here. Many bits and pieces of conch shell are strewn about. One conch we found had been the object of a turtle’s interest. Half of his shell was gone. I think I more bite by the turtle and the conch would have been lunch.

Nancy walked the half mile of beach leading south. She was able to save several conch that had gotten stranded on the beach during low tide. Returning them to the sea. So we don’t feel so about about taking a few of the older conch for meals.

Meanwhile I dragged the dinghy along ready for us to head back to the boat anchored a mile away in the sand bores. We would secure the dinghy tonight, getting ready for an early departure in the morning.

Sunset over Norman’ Pond Cay.

We had anchored for an early departure with a deep enough water route, we would not have to worry about shallows getting to Adderly Cut. In the shallow areas you prefer to have good sunlight conditions for visual navigation. This is the stone beacon on Adderly Cay. Current running through here is about 3-4 knots in our face. So we are very slowly making headway. Surrounded by iron shore with breaking waves and ripping currents, it is easy to imagine what would happen if the engine failed.

So we survived Adderly Cut and motor sailed 8 miles north in the Sound to Rudder Cut. Again, I was able to time current and winds going in the same direction and avoided “A Rage”. Coming in with the wind we keep our mainsail up, incase the engine fails and we need to sail the rest of the way through the cut.

Anchoring at the bottom inside of Rudder Cut Cay we dropped the dingy and went exploring. Above are one of the Southern Sting Rays that cruise around the anchorage. We have seen a couple like this one missing part of their tail. Not sure if they are born like that or a shark took a nip. Probably need to pay more attention exactly where the tail stubs end.

Five mature and legal conch being cleaned on shore. Note I was able to buy a new hammer in Georgetown.

Nancy finishing up skinning and then tenderizing the conch meat. The large ladder and low deck of our “sugar scoop” stern, is so useful. This is perfect for the Bahamas and it’s warm waters.

Some conch ceviche appetizers. Then a swim around the boat cleaning a little growth around the water line.

Nancy sitting on a float scrubbing the water line. She has to keep doing something at all times.

Meantime I go play with the sting ray. This is a good shot of what I look for to anchor in. The small sand piles you see are caused by Lug Worms. Which indicates that there is plenty of sand for our anchor to bury itself in. These are easily seen from the deck of the boat. When the moon is overhead, they are even easily seen at night. You may see a sandy bottom, and be tempted to anchor. But it might only be a couple of inches of sand over a hard pan rock. Then the anchor will not hold with any kind of wind. So fields of lug worms are my preferred anchoring spots. Sand is usually at least 8” to a foot deep and probably more.

Cracked Conch and fresh salad, perfect end to a perfect day!

S/V Sea Breeze, Rudder Cut Cay, Exuma, Bahama.

[heygutlcssa]

" cause you live by the ocean, Jo!" He called back, bobbing up and down in the water, wading further out and back in with the morning tide. " But you saw the sand. You saw the sea." Maybe she only had eyes for the same thing he did : Anthony.

He'd asked her to come in, but in truth he didn't think she would. Did she get fully dressed to come see him at the lighthouse or did she forget to dress down for sleep last night? He watched as his uniform jacket came off, then her shawls. He stopped his swaying to stand flat footed in the water, his eyes now locked solely on her. He kept his eyes on her and expected her to tell him to look away.

She doesn't.

His breath caught in his chest as he kept looking at her, as stockings came off to reveal her long white legs. As buttons came undone to show little arms now becoming strong. He sunk a little lower in the water as if to give her some privacy when her corset was unlaced, but he couldn't take his eyes off of the way she had filled in since he first met her. She was still little, but she was full of life.

Her shift stays on and he reminded himself of the boundaries between them. He reminded himself that she loved Anthony and that noth- oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Her skin was soft in the purple and orange of the sunrise. He loved the little pudge of her belly and the way her health had started to fill out her thighs. He could still see the pain there, it wasn't hard to miss. She was still so small. Her yellow hair looked golden in the half light and he forgot that the sunrise was behind him and not standing there in front of him on the shore. He understood the songs now and why sailors would throw themselves overboard to their deaths. He would too, if he saw her from a ship.

He wanted to stand fully up and make his way to her. He wanted to lay her down on the sand and kiss every inch of her, starting with her face and ending down between her thighs. He wanted to leave a mark upon her thigh with those kisses in case he never got the chance to again just to have some essence of having fully loved her. He wanted more than this, God help him. He wanted her.

He wanted her to love him as deeply as he did her.

The shame of it all was that Anthony, who had been living his his heart and mind for every beating second since Riff met him, had gone to rest, and was not there to remind him to keep his eyes down. He was not there to talk sense into him. She might not feel the same.

She might only ever want Anthony.

He wanted to move. He want to run, but he sank lower into the water, trying to keep himself grounded and cool, but as she moved, so did he. He rose from his spot and began to try to meet her. There was her warm hand in his, but that had moved up his arms and he could feel her forearms brush his as he began to greet her. Her arms left his and wrapped about his shoulders just as his slid so perfectly around the middle of her back. He nearly kissed her as he lifted her up above the waterline as he stood fully( the water stopping at his waist). She was even fairer up close. Was it his own heart beating out of his chest or was it hers beating through her breasts that pressed against his skin? If she was cold or warm he could feel it now. He couldn't even tell the difference. He wanted to kiss that feeling. He wanted to kiss her face, her breasts -- he wanted to feel the soft warmth that she emitted.

But her thighs and her knees lined up with his waist and he suddenly remembered that Anthony had loved her and " you can't swim." he said before readjusting her more so to his side, away from his face ( which now had gone as red as it could) and his chest ( which missed hers terribly as the cold morning air hit it.) and other improprieties she might notice in such an embrace. He waded a little further into the water, still holding her at his side, but trying to calm himself in the process. He had to be rational after all.

Still, a small hope in the back of his heart whispered " she married you after all."

" I can show you." He said, now unsure of where to look, or if he had insulted her. " If you want."

he doesn't see me as a person, was her frequent complaint to anthony on the topic of his friend. it wasn't hard to pick up on the fact that he refused to call her by her first name, even though she introduced herself as johanna and nothing more. even mrs. hope would be better than being referred to as the general missus. she doesn't recognize at first how he called her by her name. jo is close enough. her head tilts to the side.

❝ why would i ever need to? ❞ but she means to ask why he suddenly switches to calling her jo. the thames wasn't exactly the best body of water to throw oneself into, if she was even allowed to venture into that much of the city. young wives of upstanding gentleman surely wouldn't need to know how to swim to lead a fulfilling life for herself and her family. ❝ i wasn't a sailor like you. i never saw anything. ❞

lips part to argue back that perhaps someone from town might come by to fish in the early morning or a ship might come out of nowhere. but their beach isn't good for fishing and they're already out here as it is. she can't exactly argue with him.

she rises to her feet, eyes darting between where riff is in the ocean and where her skirts touch the sand. well, there can't be any harm . . . but to entirely! --- just like that? what if someone does see them? fingers pinch at her skirts as she begins to sit herself back down before stopping herself.

when was the last time she laughed like that? when was the last time she allowed herself to pause in her endless stream of propriety and what is considered right and what is wrong despite it suffocating her? there can't be any harm in throwing her head back and laughing until it stole her breath away.

❝ are you sure? you won't drop me? ❞

stockings are gently rolled off, as if to give herself time to change her mind. she doesn't by the time they're lying in the sand next to her shoes. johanna hesitates before removing his jacket from her shoulders. it was the closest feeling to being wrapped into someone's embrace that she could get. buttons are plucked at until her sleeves roll off her arms and petticoats are dropped one by one. her gaze finally meets his as she unlaces her corset. surely, it wouldn't be too terrible to run out into the water in her shift?

when the water tickles her toes and she looks down at the only thin layer of fabric securing her modesty, she pauses. her shift is folded carefully next to the rest of her belongings before she turns back around, arms and springs of hair hanging loosely around her. she didn't want to walk back home with a wet shift, now did she?

she stares back at him with a newfound intensity as she wades into the water. she doesn't trust just anyone with her body. but they are married, after all. they sleep in the same bed. when he turns her back to her, she can see tracings of scars from years past. her lower lip pouts at the sight. perhaps, one day he would tell her how they happened and he would trust her enough just as she's trusting him now ( although, part of her is already begging him for those stories. )

hand reaches for his as the water begins to get too deep for her. she's not nearly as tall as he is. her other hand grasps for his finger as the sand beneath her feet seems to disappear. in her brief panic, she finds herself grasping for his forearms --- biceps --- shoulders.

they've never been this close before and she can feel her heart beating in her throat. her grip tightens on him. ❝ don't let go of me! ❞

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 4

4400 words, part four of a nine part fanfiction (it just keeps changing tbh)

Poseidon x OC

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending; no NSFW content

---

It was nearly noon the next day when a gentle rap sounded on Dynamene's bedroom door.

"Dynamene, are you awake?" Actaea's hesitant voice came through the door. "You haven't been out all day. Are you feeling okay?"

Dynamene turned over from where she had wrapped herself up in her blankets. Her eyes felt like sandpaper after all the crying she had done the night before. "Everything's okay, Actaea. I just don't feel so well. I think I'm going to stay in bed today." She didn't have the energy to force herself to sound happier than she felt.

"Okay. The rest of us are going to go seaing this afternoon. If you're feeling better, you should come with. I'll let you rest now."

Dynamene's gloomy expression didn't change. "Okay. Thank you, Actaea."

Actaea's footsteps disappeared away from the other side of the door, and Dynamene buried her face back into her pillow.

After everything that she had heard last night, she couldn't bring herself to leave her room. She couldn't bear the thought of being out in the palace, pretending that everything was fine to her sisters, and chancing the possibility of having to face him. Here in her room, she could indulge in her misery without anyone else having to know. She sighed and sat up reluctantly, untangling herself from her bedding. With slow steps she crossed over to the window and drew the curtain back.

It was another day of fine weather; Hera's prediction had been right. The sun was shining as clearly as ever, and the birds and the ocean were following the normal routine; birds circling the beach for a meal, and the waves ebbing and flowing to the beat of the ocean's heart.

Dynamene pulled the curtain back over and wandered aimlessly to her boudoir, staring at her shadowed reflection. She looked every inch as miserable as she felt, and that just made her more upset.

What right did she have, honestly, to be so upset, especially after eavesdropping on a conversation not meant for her ears? She had done this to herself. She had taken the risk, knowing that whatever words that Poseidon and Hera exchanged could hurt her feelings, and now she was dealing with the repercussions.

As far as Poseidon's views on his connection with the Nereids... It wasn't like they were unexpected either. Dynamene had lived in his palace for a thousand years. Never once had they had a true conversation, or anything more than him giving orders and her acknowledging his demands. He was cold. He was unfeeling. He was a god so far removed from the feelings of other beings, even those of other deities and supernatural beings, that no one else dared to approach him. She was starting to realize that maybe they had the right idea in staying away.

Why had someone as despicable as him been on her mind so much in the first place?

"What are you doing to yourself?" She asked her reflection in disappointment. "You're not a child anymore. You can't just keep sulking in your room, especially when you've brought your misery on yourself. You're going to worry your family." She sighed and returned to her bed, burying herself back under the covers. She would get some more sleep, then she would take a warm bath and face the world again. Everything would be fine. It would just take a little time.

Meanwhile, Actaea had returned to the room where the other sisters were setting up for lunch, and where Ianeira was waiting with a troubled expression.

"Is she alright?" Ianeira asked as Actaea approached.

"To be quite honest, I'm not sure," Actaea sighed. "She sounded completely lifeless when I spoke to her. She said she wasn't feeling well, but we all know that's a lie. She's been acting strange since her birthday."

"More specifically, once we received word that Hera was visiting." Ianeira took a moment to ponder. "Do you think Lady Hera might've said something privately to her last night?"

"What cause would she have had to speak to her? They're barely acquainted. She gave Dynamene her blessing in front of all the rest of us with no problem. And as far as I know, Dyna has done nothing to provoke Lady Hera's ire."

"Maybe it's far-fetched, but... What about Lord Poseidon? You remember how she ran from his rooms; that look in her eyes. Do you think..." Ianeira's words halted, and she gave a sharp inhale of realization. Her eyes snapped up to meet her sister's. "Actaea..."

Actaea gave her a knowing look and leaned closer. "I'll tell you this in confidence," she said lowly. "She was worried about the subjects that Hera might broach with Poseidon when she came. I'll give you one guess as to why."

Ianeira exhaled deeply. "I've been blind."

"Oh, come now. It's only become more noticeable this past decade or so, dearest older sister," Actaea sighed impatiently. "Dynamene isn't a child anymore, after all."

"I know. It's just..." Ianeira pursed her lips. "Perhaps I didn't want to believe it. I guess I wanted to believe that it was just a healthy sense of fear making her act the way she's been."

"That may have been the case in the past, but it seems things are changing rapidly."

"He wouldn't. We know he wouldn't."

"I'm sure Dynamene knows that as well. That doesn't often sway the heart, unfortunately. We'll have to keep an eye on things; all of us."

"I agree," Ianeira nodded somberly. "For Dynamene's sake."

"For Dynamene's sake."

They exchanged a meaningful look once more before joining the rest of their sisters at the table.

It was many hours later that Dynamene finally woke up. Stretching slowly, she looked over at the curtain-covered window. No more sunlight was filtering through; the room was nearly completely dark. It seemed she had managed to sleep the rest of the day away.

She stood on the cold marble floor, giving one last stretch and a rousing shake of her head before crossing to her dresser for clean clothes. Her sisters had almost certainly left and returned from their seaing excursion by now. Dynamene squinted at the clock on her boudoir. It was well past the afternoon now; the last of the sunset was probably fading over the horizon.

Clad in fresh robes, she left her room and quietly made her way through the palace towards the kitchens. She could hear her sisters conversing and enjoying their free time in various rooms as she passed, but she crept by as best she could without notice. She was feeling more like herself now, but she still wasn't ready to be bombarded with the questions her sisters would undoubtedly have.

After fetching an apple from the pantry, she emerged from the palace and made her way down to the beach. A gentle ocean breeze brushed the stray hairs back from her face, and she smiled lightly at the scent of the seawater. No matter her troubles, she would always be able to count on the ocean to wash them away.

She chose a spot next to a group of tide pools to sit, tucking her peplos beneath her and gazing out at the vast, black ocean. She imagined her worries being washed away by each drag of the waves, pulling them from the sand and casting them out into the unknown.

"Dynamene, Dynamene," soft voices came, and she looked down at the tide pools. A few fish that had been trapped within were swimming about in tidy circles. "What troubles you?"

Dynamene smiled sadly. "Nothing, little friends. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Never. We're always glad for the company of a Nereid," they answered, their scales shimmering faintly in the moonlight.

Dynamene watched them warmly. All Nereids, as spirits of the sea, had the ability to communicate with sea life. In return, the sea life held them in high regards, considering them protectors and ambassadors of the ocean and all within. "You know," she ventured, drawing her knees up to her chest. "The gods of Olympus are mysterious, even to those who've known them for a millennia. Do you think that, maybe, they're just so far removed from other beings that it's impossible to form a connection with one?"

"The gods of Olympus are proud to a fault," a minnow responded. "They justify their actions with empty motives, chasing pleasure and recognition just as any mortal."

"You see, the gods have the same minds as mortals, but they trick themselves into thinking that their supernatural gifts have made them entirely different beings," a tiny crab added, crawling out of the pool to rest upon her foot. "They are just as infallible as humans, and in many ways much more destructive, especially to themselves."

"Mm," Dynamene hummed thoughtfully. "Thinking back now on all my experiences with the gods... Your words strike me as true, friends." She considered the waves for several moments. "You're right. I guess even with their power... They are just people with faults like anyone else." She lifted her hand, guiding a little stream of water from the ocean to the tide pool. "Thank you for your insights. Here you are; you can return to the ocean now."

The sea life that had been confined to the tide pool took advantage of the stream to return to the sea, their little voices thanking her many times over.

Dynamene sighed and leaned back on her arms, taking a few minutes to absorb the wise words the animals had shared with her. It all made sense; so much so that she began to wonder if, deep down, she hadn't had the same suspicions about the gods all along. Of course, in a position like hers, as a servant to one of the top three, such thoughts could be perilous to acknowledge. Keeping them tucked away to herself was the safe choice.

A strange shift in the air made her start. She quickly righted herself and turned around, feeling a presence approaching.

From the base of the stairs approached a familiar figure, a sight that she found her heart both leaping at and shirking from.

Poseidon was walking towards her, the moonlight casting a white glow on the side of his body not shadowed by the rocky bluffs. The points of his trident caught the moonlight on their sharp edges. His expression was somber.

No; as he came closer and Dynamene could make his face out more clearly, she saw it was one of anger. Him seeking her out at this hour with such an expression quickly made it clear as to why he was here; he must have found her out.

She scrambled to her feet and backed away towards the ocean, the cold water lapping at her feet. "Lord Poseidon," she ventured in a small voice hardly audible over the waves. "I didn't expect to see you out here so late..."

He halted ten feet from her. The breeze from the waves caught the white wrap that flowed from his waist, its waving fabric juxtaposed against the sharp silhouette of his body. His hair was lightly tousled from the wind as well, that stray lock of hair that had always captured her attention blown back from his face.

Now she was seeing him as he was. A beautiful, terrible, apathetic man with no warmth to spare nor kindness to show. His beauty was as empty as his soul, and in that moment, she hated him for it.

Her resentment lit an indignant fire in her veins that gave her a surge of courage. She hated him enough that she did not fear him, and she met his gaze full-on, her back straightening, hands loose at her sides.

"It seems you have overstepped the boundaries that servants under a god should observe," he said. In the shadows, his eyes were dark and cold, reminding Dynamene of an obsidian pendant Thoe had once fawned over.

"Eavesdropping is treason," he stated simply. "A betrayal of the faith a master should be able to have in his servant."

"I have, my lord. I give you no pretenses, nor excuses," Dynamene responded, her gaze falling slightly.

"It is," Dynamene whispered. She looked back up at Poseidon. No matter how she felt about him in the moment, she couldn't ignore the twinge of guilt that she still felt at having broken the trust he'd had in her.

Wait, trust? Faith?

What did he know of such things?

"I will heartily accept any punishment you dole to me, Lord Poseidon," she said softly, eyes still searching his face. "But I wonder if you could shed some light on a lowly sea-nymph like me."

His expression changed slightly at that. He remained silent, though, and Dynamene took it as permission to continue.

"You see, I have to wonder... Did you really have faith in me, in the truest sense of the word?" She whispered, clasping her hands to her chest.

These words seemed to have rather blindsided Poseidon, because he blinked. Something told her that this was not something he'd ever considered. Before this moment, he'd never had to. Then his brow furrowed; not in anger, necessarily, but in concentration. No matter what answer he gave, it would be wrong. He could not say yes; if that were the case, he would not hold meetings with his siblings in privacy. He could not say no; he had let his guard down and allowed the possibility of someone eavesdropping to become a reality.

"Because I've always had faith in you, Lord Poseidon," Dynamene continued, her knuckles white from how hard she was clutching her hands together. She could hardly get the words out. "I have always trusted you, and believed in you. I would blindly follow you to the ends of the Earth and jump off if I thought you wanted it; If I thought you expected it. I am a fallible being, just a sea-nymph. I could never reach the standards that I know you hold your fellow gods to. But I'd like to think that, maybe, in some point over the millennia I have served you..." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Maybe, though I've now broken your trust, you had some faith in me, even as your lowly sea-nymph servant."

She prepared to be smited. One blow of his trident was all it would take to end her life, and she was braced for it. An ineffective servant was one Poseidon had no need of. Her fate was inevitable, and she apologized silently to her sisters. I'm sorry I failed you.

But the moments went by, and still Dynamene's heart continued to beat.

Once a minute had nearly passed, she slowly opened her eyes.

Poseidon was no longer looking at her, but at the ocean. The trident had vanished from his grip. His expression had returned to one of indifference, but there was something turning in his eyes. She knew he was deep in thought, but about what, she had no idea.

"The ocean," he began rather slowly. "It is the driving force of all life. As a Nereid, you know this."

She blinked at him in amazement.

"I am the master of it. No one knows the water, or the life within it, as well as I do. This is the way it has been, and this is the way it will always be." His gaze slowly shifted back to her.  "Everything that happens concerning the ocean, from the ebb of the tide to the respiration of the fish... I feel it all." He turned to face her head-on once more. "Come here."

She cautiously stepped forward, captivated by his words despite herself. She had no idea what to expect next.

He continued to look down at her. "You Nereids are part of the ocean. The personification of the water's soul. As such, I can feel your presence as well."

Dynamene's heart skipped a beat. Was this how he knew that she had been listening in on his conversation with Hera?

"Even in this, your humanoid form, seawater flows through your body." He reached out and took her hand, and Dynamene immediately tensed up from the unexpected contact. She could feel that strange electricity coursing through her veins once more. "Every time your heart beats, I can sense it." His fingers lingered on her wrist, and she could feel her pulse pressing against his skin. His hand was large, much bigger than hers, but the fingers were rather long and graceful, and she could feel faint calluses from wielding his trident on his palm.

For the first time since she'd met him, he seemed like a real flesh-and-blood being.

Dynamene stared at him in shock. Then came a jarring and humiliating realization. Every time her heart had pounded in his presence, all the times her heart had skipped a beat from his gaze, and that moment when he had handed her the bracelet and she thought she might faint... He knew them all. Now it made sense, the way he'd stared at her after gifting her her present. He could hear her heart beating fast in excitement.

He could hear her feelings for him.

She was so embarrassed. How could she have been so foolish as to think she could ever hide the way he made her felt? It had to have been written all over her face as well. She felt her face prickling with humiliation, and she looked down at the pebbles washed ashore by the waves. Maybe she really was still a child after all.

Poseidon released her hand and said nothing. They remained standing there, unmoving, as Dynamene slowly forced herself to gather her wits and say something, anything. A sudden question came to mind.

"Then..." She said, swallowing the crack in her voice. "You're a being of the ocean to some extent too, right? If you're so deeply entwined with it... How come I can't... hear your presence? Is it because seawater doesn't run through your veins as well?"

"You can, if you have enough power and practice. As a Nereid, you should be able to." This time, he held out his own hand.

Dynamene stared at it hesitantly before reaching out and gently grasping it. The moonlight turned the backs of their hands, one big, one small, the same pale hue. Poseidon closed his eyes, and she followed suit.

For a moment, she felt nothing. She concentrated, searching for something in the darkness...

Then she found it. A steady beat, just like any other man's, strong and constant. And along with his heartbeat was something more. No... much more. The more she focused, the more she sensed. She could feel the rumbling of the ocean's currents and see all the sea life flickering by. She felt the heat from the thermal vents deep down on the ocean floor, and smelled the algae and seaweed that had washed up on shore. It was as if he was a conductor for all the energy in the ocean, and their physical connection was wiring it through to her.

The man she'd thought was completely empty was teeming with life force, not just that of his own, but of that of every being in the ocean.

Shocked, she opened her eyes. He slowly opened his as well, staring at her. "That is but a fraction of what I can sense. It's only this strong from a certain distance, but that's all that's necessary. Nothing around me escapes my notice."

The knowledge of all this was a lot for Dynamene to take in. Her eyes darted back and forth, as if searching for something to help her absorb and make sense of all this. Was this what he was really thinking about during all those moments that he seemed to be staring off into space? No wonder he was prone to leaving suddenly and without explanation. Since he could sense what was going on nearby in his watery realm, he knew when there was conflict before anyone else at the palace did.

"All this means you must've been able to tell I was there while you were speaking to Lady Hera," Dynamene whispered, staring down at their clasped hands. "But I... I don't understand. Why didn't you make it known then, that you knew I was listening?"

Poseidon didn't respond, instead scrutinizing her face. As much as she knew that she should release his hand, she couldn't bear to let go just yet.

"There was no need to cause a scene." His gaze had shifted back to the ocean. "My bull-headed sister is troublesome enough without dealing with her rage at an errant servant."

Dynamene's face turned pink with embarrassment, but she had to concede that much to him. It was true. "Then... I have to thank you," she whispered. He looked back into her eyes once more, and she found herself drinking in the sight of those beautiful eyes. It was true that they were dark and cold and distant, but now she had begun to see something else within them. Now, it was as if he was truly seeing her. No longer was he looking through her, like a meaningless ghost. His eyes were fixed on her own, acknowledging her and listening to what she had to say. And the more she stared, the deeper she found herself falling into them, as if they were an ocean in themselves.

Falling, sinking, further and further...

"If Hera had known that I was there, I'm sure she wouldn't have been nearly as forgiving," Dynamene murmured, trying to break free of the spell he'd unknowingly cast on her. "And I'm guessing you haven't told her at all, as I'm still standing here and not dead or turned into some hideous creature."

"Telling her would do no good. I don't desire anymore damage done to my palace. The balcony was enough," he said flatly. "And I know you and the rest of the Nereids are no fools. You know why my sister visits."

Dynamene's heart fell once more at the mention of Hera's motives. "Yes, I must say we have figured it out," she mumbled.

"Tell me this. If you know why Hera comes, and what we talk about, why did you feel the need to listen in?" He inquired. His eyes drilled into her.

Her gaze fell back to the ground, and her blush deepened. As if you don't know... Then again, perhaps you truly don't. But... Please don't make me say it.

"Dynamene!" A familiar voice called out, echoing from high above the rocky bluffs.

She jumped and quickly turned towards the source of the voice, letting go of Poseidon's hand. "Actaea? She must have gone to check on me and realized I was missing..."

"You've been out here long enough," Poseidon responded. "It's getting late; return to the palace now."

Dynamene looked back at him, with his moon-bleached hair drifting about his eyes, and was reluctant to follow his words. Of course this would happen just as she had finally seen through the impenetrable wall he always kept up. She wanted to stay, even if just a moment longer. She wanted to talk to him and continue to get to know him. She wanted to keep learning just what went on in that closed mind of his. She wanted to keep listening to the calm, stoic cadence of his voice. She wanted to take his strong hand once more and feel his heartbeat, just as he could feel hers. No, she wanted to step closer and bridge the gap between them, pressing herself to his chest and listening to his heartbeat as close as she could get.

She wanted to stay here forever, just the two of them on the beach in the calm, black night, her looking at him and he, at long last, finally looking back at her.

Her feelings had for him had returned, but now they felt different. No longer did the sensations that they caused scare her. Now she just wanted more, more than she could take in. She wanted to feel this connection to him always.

"Dynamene! Are you down there?" Actaea's voice had gotten closer now; she must be descending the steps to the beach.

Poseidon turned away to look out at the vast darkness of the ocean and sky. Without quite knowing why, or what she expected to come of it, Dynamene reached quickly for his hand one last time. She saw his gaze flicker towards the movement...

But she couldn't bring herself to complete the gesture, and she drew her hand back just as quickly as she had reached out. Before she could bring herself to regret her withdrawal, she turned back towards the stairs and began the careful ascent over rock and sand towards them.

"Dynamene! There you are." Actaea emerged from the valley with a lantern in one hand, relief all over her face. "I went to check on you before bed, and you weren't there. I was afraid you'd..."

"No, no, I'm just fine, Actaea," Dynamene answered quickly, putting her hands on her sister's shoulders. "I was just taking in the night air. I'm feeling a lot better now, so you don't need to worry. I think I just needed some time to decompress for a bit."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," Actaea sighed, embracing her younger sister. "We've all been concerned for you. If a night stroll on the beach is what you needed to feel better, then you're free to stroll as late as you want."

"Actually, I was just about to turn in for the night anyways. It is getting late," Dynamene continued rather shyly, remembering Poseidon's order. "Should we go back together?"

"That sounds fabulous," Actaea smiled, smoothing back Dynamene's bangs. "After you."

Dynamene returned her smile with the same old brightness that she'd recently lost, before continuing back up the stairs.

Actaea stared after her for a second before setting down the lantern and turning back to dismount the last few stairs to the beach.

Poseidon's figure hadn't moved as he continued to watch the waves roll in and out. Actaea's face stiffened, but she remained still and silent. She continued to watch the god for a moment, thoughts churning, before taking back up the lantern and following her youngest sister's lead back to the palace.

---

Author’s notes: This chapter definitely took me the longest of any thus far. I ended up rewriting some paragraphs because I found myself going off track from my original vision. I had a “wait, wtf are you writing here” moment, which I guess was ultimately necessary to get myself back on track.

So Poseidon isn’t such an empty person after all? maybe Man, all it takes is a hint of brooding vulnerability and the teenage girls come running lol I don’t mean to slander Dynamene, she’s just a girl having her first love and not knowing what to do about it. Things aren’t much easier when your first love is fuCKING POSEIDON

Anyways, how old is Dynamene? Good question. Nereids age at a rate of about 145 years being equivalent to 1 human year. Dynamene was the equivalent of about a nine year old when she came with her sisters to the palace. She’s close to 16 in human years now, so she was probably born around 2300 years prior to this fanfiction. Imagine living that long and still not being full-grown 😭😭😭

Dynamene’s oldest sister, Ianeira, is physiologically equivalent to a human 25 year old, so she would be about 3600 years old. Talk about an age gap between siblings!

[mythicamagic]

Childhood: a Kohrin oneshot

Summary: Two teenagers sneak off one night to the beach, reflecting on their pasts. Despite the grim subject, Rin somehow always manages to make him smile. Kohaku x Rin oneshot

3,000 words

Childhood

Laughing, racing, tumbling, grinning. Gaped teeth, freckles, dirt between toes, teasing brothers, sunbathing, cool creaks, bare feet and squawking kappas. The scatter of petals and grass kicked into the air, the scent of campfires, sunflowers, crispy fish and cooking fungi. Assuring golden eyes keeping vigilance over her sleep, along with the steady rhythmic breathing of a two-headed dragon keeping her warm. These are all the things Rin chose to remember about childhood.

She remembered and kept them close, especially at night, gliding through memories masquerading as dreams.

In the years after travelling with the stoic lord and staying with Kaede at her village, her limbs had changed- becoming gangly, form lean and growing with burgeoning maturity. She'd adapted to her environment, forming strong friendships with her mentor and the Inutachi. However, despite her days being spent in quiet happiness, she couldn't help but notice a few things. A perpetual absence. A certain searching look in Sango's eyes whenever she glanced up from monitoring her three children to stare off into the trees.

Tossing and turning beneath the covers, Rin frowned in her sleep.

One person who remained elusive in both her dreams and the waking world was-

A crooning noise startled her upright, brown eyes flying wide. Stumbling from her futon and hurrying from Kaede's hut, she peered out into the night inquisitively.

From within the forest, she could see a faint orange glow peeking out between the trees. Tightening her sleeping yukata around her, Rin's lips pursed. She then stubbornly sought out the glow, bare feet padding over cool dirt.

She found him, as predicted, watching Sango's hut.

Kohaku stood, a little further along into his maturity than her. Even the dense shadows couldn't quite hide the changes in his height and features. Rin stopped the second he caught notice of her- a telltale wariness gripping him a moment before recognition painted his face.

"Rin," he said with relief, tone soon slipping into a resigned reprimand. "What're you doing out so late? You should be asleep."

"So should you," she smiled easily, rocking on her heels. She gave a wave to Kirara, who hopped onto Kohaku's shoulder after transforming into a small version of herself and mewling. "It's a strange hour for you to come back. Sango won't be able to greet you with a lively smile-" lively chatter broke off the second she noticed the older boy direct his gaze to his feet. "Oh… unless… you don't plan on staying long?" Rin murmured. Again.

For some reason, it was always the same with him. Lord Sesshoumaru's brief visits didn't bother her in the least. He barely had a connection to the village. But Kohaku? He should've been there, stayed there. She knew Sango missed him terribly but he barely made time to visit.

However, she didn't voice any of this. She'd done so before, and Sango's assurances never seemed to help him. Guilt continued to gnaw like an infected wound at her friend.

Rin observed his freckled face in the torch light, seeing the emotions swimming within vibrant brown eyes.

"You know I would if I could. But…" the silence of the forest swallowed up the remainder of what he wanted to say. Rin shifted her bare feet, drawing closer and taking his coarse, demon-slaying hand.

"Let's go somewhere."

"Huh?"

"I want to go to the beach," she said decisively, as though he had no say in the matter. Kohaku supposed he didn't when she got like this. "Come on, Kaede says the ocean air is good for you. Hurry, before everyone wakes up," Rin tugged on his hand.

Kohaku smiled slightly, giving in far too easily.

---

Kirara touched down on sandy shores an hour later, allowing them to slide off her back. Rin stretched and sucked in a long breath of salty sea air.

"Ahh! Now isn't that better?" she grinned.

Kohaku snorted and smiled good-naturedly, looking out at the black sea with a quiet, observing look. "I haven't been to the beach in a long time."

"Why not?"

Kohaku wandered out, boots crunching on pebbles until they were cushioned by sand, leaving moonlit footprints. "I want to say I haven't had time, but that's not true," he chuckled. "It just hasn't occurred to me to go. That I'd enjoy it."

At 16, Rin still didn't feel old enough nor wise enough to understand everything. She wasn't a firecracker like Kagome had been around her age, and she didn't see herself as a warrior like Sango. However, there were some things Rin knew how to do.

Following, Rin took his hand in passing, tugging to ensure he'd stumble after her. She walked right up to the shoreline, drinking in the dark, hushed atmosphere only broken by the sound of waves crashing against rocks.

"Take off your boots."

Kohaku blinked, raising a brow. His lips quirked, "you sure are bossy today."

Giggling, she wriggled bare toes into the sand- squealing when the cool tide rushed in and splashed about her ankles before drawing back. "You used to walk around barefoot all the time, just like me."

"When I was a kid," he reminded her.

"Are you implying something?" Rin huffed. "I'll tell Uncle Inuyasha you said that."

"No, I wasn't trying to say-" his hasty words cut off, noting her mischievous expression. Kohaku smiled and leaned down as though to take off his boots- suddenly thrusting his hands into the surf and splashing her.

Shrieking and gasping, Rin gaped with surprise- soon grinning viciously wide and leaping towards him. Kohaku quickly dodged. He began running, hotly pursued by the petite young woman. An unexpected noise rang out into the night. Boyish, happy laughter.

Earthy brown eyes widened and even as Rin sprinted, panting, she drank in the sound of Kohaku laughing. How strange, rare and wonderful it was.

Running fast and putting all her energy into her legs, Rin leapt at his back. Catching him around the middle, she collided hard against him.

With an undignified yelp from a demon slayer, Kohaku lost his footing, toppling gracelessly to the ground, kicking up sand. Giggling breathlessly, Rin spat some from her mouth and lifted her head.

"You went down easy. Are you sure you slay demons?" she teased, nestling against the warmth of his back.

Kohaku shifted, shaking sand from his ponytail and adjusting their positions so that they were facing each other, laying on their sides. He wiped his face, expression clearly trying to remain unaffected and firm- but breaking into a tender smile.

"You always do this," he mused quietly.

"Hm? I don't think I've ever tackled you into the sand before," Rin felt fairly confident about that.

"That's not what I mean, it's just that you always make me feel... something different. Something good."

"But we had that argument about how best to stew nettles the other day," she pointed out.

A chuckle escaped him, soulful gaze sober. "Even that felt good to me."

Tilting her head against the dry, soft dune, both fell silent. Despite being a chatter-box, Rin also knew when to be quiet and let him talk. Her hand inched out naturally for his, and Kohaku accepted it, grasping her palm in a way that made her feel secure and safe. They'd known each other for many years so some things came as easy as breathing. Other things, like talking about it, came slowly, painfully.

"Why won't they go away?" Kohaku murmured in a hushed tone for only her to hear. "The nightmares. The memories," his gaze shook. "I just want to stop seeing it every time I look at Sango, but its there, in the back of my mind. I don't... feel right being around my nieces and nephew."

"You're still scared you'll hurt them?" there was no judgment in her tone. Assuring him that Naraku was dead and gone didn't help. Kohaku was perfectly aware of that.

The young man ducked his head, lips thin. His larger, rougher hand in hers trembled. "What if it's still there?" he whispered. "The compulsion to hurt people. I could be living my life- I could marry-" his eyes avoided hers. "Have children, but then one day I hear his voice again and the memory is too strong to resist. I could do something awful."

Dark brows pulled together, heart-squeezing in her ribcage. She wanted to help so badly. However, there was nothing she could do but keep trying to assure him and listen. "Even if you hear him, I believe in you, Kohaku," Rin stroked a thumb over his scarred knuckles. "You'd fight it. You're getting stronger all the time."

He looked exhausted, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "I'm so tired of being scared," he mumbled, glancing wearily at her. "You're still scared too, aren't you?"

Her face lost its girlish innocence, becoming firm as she sat up. "I've told you before- I'm not afraid of you, Kohaku!" she insisted hotly. "I haven't been since I was 8!"

Kohaku shifted his muscular body, and it was times like those she noticed how much larger and different he'd become. She blushed slightly but kept her expression serious.

"I wasn't talking about that," he chuckled, gaze becoming gentle. Careful fingers minded some dark hair from her face. "Your nightmares. You still have nightmares about your childhood too, right?"

Rin blinked, feeling cold and releasing his hand to wrap both arms around herself. The brush of cool night air gliding over her skin suddenly felt a little too chilly.

A soft croon rumbled out seconds before Kirara's large form settled down behind them. Lustrous buttercup coloured fur bumped against Rin's back, and she nestled against the nekomata's side gratefully.

"We don't have to discuss it if you don't want to," Kohaku said with concern, leaning back against the demon as well.

Forcing a cheery smile, Rin shook her head. "I'm fine- I've actually come up with something that helps me sleep most nights now, and I thought it might help you too."

"What is it?"

Tilting her head back to gaze at the stars above, she smiled a little more naturally. "I think of all the good things in my childhood. Laughing, racing, tumbling, grinning. Gaped teeth, freckles, dirt between toes, teasing brothers, sunbathing, cool creaks, bare feet and squawking kappas. The scatter of petals and grass kicked into the air, the scent of campfires, sunflowers, crispy fish and cooking fungi. Assuring golden eyes keeping vigilance over my sleep, along with the steady rhythmic breathing of a two-headed dragon keeping me warm."

Kohaku stared at her with no short amount of amazement. He swallowed and looked down at the sand.

"You're strong," he breathed. "To be able to separate all the good things from the bad."

"You can do it too," grabbing his hand again, Rin inched closer with an encouraging nod. "Tell me some things you remember. Happy things."

Kohaku blushed a little at her proximity and cleared his throat, thinking. "Sango. She was always there for me."

"What else?"

His eyes seemed to haze slightly, "Father…"

"Push through it, Kohaku," she murmured. "There was a time before all the bad stuff. Was he kind?"

Kohaku blinked, firm fingers squeezing hers as he came back to himself, exhaling. He chuckled shyly, "he was a little strict, but he meant well."

Rin shifted closer, resting beside him shoulder to shoulder, knee bumping his. Kohaku rested his head back against Kirara's soft fur and began recounting things long since buried. Things he hadn't thought he could remember or appreciate anymore. The guilt was there, it always would be, but it felt further away, replaced with a bitter-sweet tang.

"Practicing, running, training, laughing, chasing yellow nekomatas," he scratched Kirara's ear. "Butterflies, bare-feet, hunting- freeing rabbits from traps because I didn't want to see them get killed. Father yelling. Father's hand gently resting on my h-head," the words stumbled. "Playing, flower gathering, flying on Kirara. The smell of the blacksmiths. Sweat. Forging weapons. Sango snoring."

Rin gasped and giggled, watching as his fingers slid through the gaps between her own.

"Warming my hands on the brazier. Talking. Listening. Stories around the campfire. Demon slayers, family," Kohaku murmured, voice thick with memories. He closed his eyes, falling silent.

"You did really well," cuddling against him, Rin pecked his cheek.

Kohaku glanced down at her, "I haven't talked about that stuff out loud before. I didn't think I could anymore."

Grinning, she put her nose in the air, imitating Jaken. "Humph well, I am rather good at talking. Getting other people to talk is my speciality ~"

Chuckling, he nudged his free hand against her forehead gently, brown eyes incredibly warm. "Can we do this again sometime? There's probably more we can remember."

Blinking, Rin gentled and squeezed his fingers, "of course we can. Anytime, Kohaku. But you know… Sango might want to hear some of this too- when you're ready," she added quickly.

His face became a touch more guarded, which broke her heart. He was so afraid of hurting Sango again. For a demon slayer, the young man was heavily weighed down by empathy.

Rin touched his freckled cheek, "Kohaku?"

He shook his head slightly and gave a smile to show he was alright. "Never mind that. How'd you get to be so brave talking about this stuff?"

Humming, she let her fingers linger, dragging down to his jaw. It looked and felt strong beneath her touch. "I probably couldn't talk about it out loud if you weren't here. You make me feel brave."

Before her fingers left his face, her hand was caught. Kohaku pushed it back to rest against his cheek, tilting his face into her palm.

"Likewise," he mumbled.

Cheeks warming, Rin felt her heart stutter and thrum wildly in her chest. It was weird. Kohaku was so incredibly dear to her. She loved being close to him, but lately, butterflies just wouldn't stop fluttering in her stomach.

Seeming to sense her confusion, Kohaku released her slack hand and gently returned it to her. He then turned to his boots and began tugging them off.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm doing as you bossily suggested earlier," standing, he gave a small smile, offering a hand down to her.

Rin accepted it, following as he walked to the shoreline. Stepping onto the wet sand, a noise of surprise and shook escaped the demon slayer as the tide rushed in.

Biting her lip, Rin tried and failed to suppress mirthful laughter. "Did you just squeal?"

"No. You're imagining things," Kohaku grinned.

The ocean lapped around their ankles, slowly receding, before sweeping a fresh wave of cool, dark water against their skin.

Kohaku gradually adjusted, looking out at the endless stretch of ocean brightened by the moon. Rin breathed in a lungful of the fresh air, slowly relaxing with him.

The tired lines beneath Kohaku's kind eyes seemed to soften, not entirely going away, but his face appeared young once more, gaining a healthy glow.

Rin held onto his hand throughout. He was the only one she felt so strangely at peace with. Lord Sesshoumaru and Kaede were protective presences, but neither really knew her, or her secrets. No one understood everything that had happened in her life, though she'd divulged some things.

She'd told Kohaku everything. When the boys at the village whispered among themselves that she was strange, a shape-shifter, a hanyou girl in disguise, Rin would smile. Because they didn't need to know or understand. Kohaku accepted her oddness, an outlier himself. Perhaps they were Hanyou children in a way.

Like Uncle Inuyasha, they didn't quite fit into human society. They were too strange. Too changed, different because of what they'd seen and experienced, never quite meshing despite their best efforts to.

But that was alright.

She'd asked Uncle Inuyasha about it once, Lord Sesshoumaru in their presence. Inuyasha had met Sesshoumaru's gaze, voice gruff.

"Well, there was no place for me, so I had to make one for myself, and then I realized, I had a place, but I was the only one in it."

Lord Sesshoumaru had seemed quiet and considering of his words.

Rin understood. Gazing at Kohaku right then, she felt he would too. The two humans who had died too young. Kohaku was part of her space, and she was in his.

Catching her eye, he smiled. Just as naturally as holding hands, he leaned down and rested their foreheads together. Rin let out a whoosh of hot air, lashes fluttering shut. The press of his head against hers felt intimate and sweet.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and shifted her head, lips inches from his, face burning. Kohaku's eyes cracked open wide, before gazing solemnly at her. He wrestled with something- and she thought he might pull away.

Kohaku then snuffed out the rest of the distance between them, lips pressing against hers in a chaste kiss.

White-hot feeling burst within the young woman like shooting stars. Butterflies turned into hummingbirds. Her lips burned.

They pulled away, both avoided each other's gazes a moment, reeling. They then caught one another's eye and slowly, shyly smiled. Because they were still the same, just a little different from before.

"Let's go back to the village," Kohaku murmured, noticing the first hues of sunlight brightening the horizon. "I think… I'll try talking to Sango."

Rin nodded, smiling with palpable relief.

He glanced at her, expression remaining vulnerable, fragile heart laid bare for her to see. Kohaku trusted her to handle it gently.

"And Rin?"

"Yes?"

He blushed slightly, squeezing her hand. "Let's come back to the beach sometime soon."

Rin's face burst into a wide grin, giggling a little breathlessly.

"I'd love to!"

---

End

[grelleswife]

Nightfall and something with the demon sibs Seb and Amy if you could friend? 🥰💖🖤

@bapydemonprincess I’d be happy to, fren!

(Sebastian’s little sister Amy Michaelis is one of bapydemon’s OCs; we wrote about her misadventures on Earth in our rp The Butler, Big Brother. Amy and Seb are both still babey demons in this AU, and Sebastian goes by the name Naberius)

Even on the mortal plane, time was a treacherous beast; among the endlessly wheeling circles of hell, however, it became completely ungovernable, ebbing and flowing in irrational tides. The sun did not rise in the east (though concepts such as “east” and “west” carried scant weight in Hades), nor did stars dance overhead.

Yet nightfall still descended upon hell. An indefinite period when the shadows grew chokingly thick like smog, when terrors so ancient that only the Dark Mothers remembered their names crawled forth from the caves and quagmires where they slept, and when careless whelps might lose their footing amidst a ravenous landscape that unhinged its jaws to swallow them up.

It was at such a time that the young demon known as Amy found herself completely alone in a barren wasteland.

She’d been trying to playfight with her stupid elder sibling, Naberius, but they’d just snapped at her, saying that they weren’t in the mood and that Amy was singeing their feathers with her careless flames. Amy could TOO control the hellfire that made up her true form! And why did Nab think they could boss her around just because they were a few measly centuries older? Well, she’d show them. Amy didn’t need her sib, anyway. She could have lots of fun all by herself!

SO THERE!

After scampering off in a flurry of sparks and talons, Amy had found a pack of imps to hunt, pouncing on them and giggling when they shrieked in fear. She’d set fire to a few hilltops, and splashed happily through puddles of despair left over from the messy remains of a human soul some other demon had feasted upon.

…it would have been nicer if Naberius was here.

Amy let out a frustrated growl. She was JUST FINE without her sibling. Really! In fact, she’d play a bit longer before returning home.

Wait…where was home?

Peering around, Amy suddenly realized that she could barely see more than a few inches in front of her. Like the darkness was alive, and closing in from all sides. She let out a whimper. Her shape, a fiery humanoid figure, regressed to a small, trembling blob of black flame.

Sh-she was not scared because she was a brave and FEARSOME demon from the ranks of the gentry—

Dark red pinpricks emerged from the gloom. Eyes.

Hungry eyes.

Something growled. Distant, but approaching fast.

Amy couldn’t make a sound. The helpless little flame just shivered, petrified, as the eyes grew larger, larger—

A flutter of wings, which stretched to surround her with their soft, jet-black feathers. A mighty roar warped and shattered the air, and the unknown hellbeast stopped in its tracks. The next moment, its footfalls rapidly receded as it fled the scene, though the brief silence was subsequently broken by Naberius’s raspy voice.

“Are you all right, Amy?” they asked, gently cupping the flickering fire in their claws.

“Nab!!!” she squeaked. “I—I’m okay.”

Her sibling tenderly nuzzled her.

“Oh, thank goodness.”

Then a tirade ensued.

“You can’t just wander off like that! I was worried sick!!! Haven’t I warned you time and time again how dangerous hellnights are for demons your age?”

“But I didn’t know nighttime was coming. You never said they happened so fast!”

“I did tell you, Amy, you just didn’t listen to me…”

The pair bickered back and forth as Naberius carried Amy to their safe, cozy nest, but afterwards they cuddled close together, and Amy was lulled to sleep by her elder sibling’s purrs.

[the-firebird69]

There are a lot of things happening here one of the big things is this place is starting to oxygenate but it is a result of something other than the ships coming down the rivers it's because of the plume of a horse manure and fertilizer it is flowing into the Gulf of Mexico from several locations not just Florida and not just the two rivers there's a lot of it and the whole place is consuming this food and it's growing now calp thank heavens it's better than the algae because it has a lot of staying power and it's actually hard to get rid of once it's in there there's a ton of it growing big fields of it and it's kind of odd looking it looks like an outbreak patches of hair and it's going to grow back it was there and it got destroyed by bad bacteria and it's going to go back and it will oxygenate this place more right now the amount of fertilizer that went out as gigantic and the size of the plume or bloom really is gigantic. There's some people that helped in the long and Mac knows him and he says that thank you so he wants to know and it's good he's sort of ask our son for help. Eventually work but it was going real slow a lot of elderly people are alive because of them they don't want this war I won't stop it won't stop and people think that it might be the matrix he could have come up with something but now there are other things happening we get this out right now well additionally the water has dropped a couple more inches from 93 to 95 literally 2 in and yes one more inch and it's 8 ft and that's not bad I usually at high tide it's about 3 ft from the high tide Mark and 4 foot from the high water mark and is going to keep going down to about 12 ft but several things have to happen that shelf needs to be cleared the sand needs to be removed but not completely it only be about 30 feet and it would drop but really they're not mining out there much and they went out and they did some investigatory work but nowhere near as much as we said I did cause a trough from the harbor area and it's washing out the rest of it and pretty soon it'll break through you think tonight maybe and we think it'll be tonight the breaks through that line that was not really a straight line it took a curve they came from somewhere else and then they went out from the harbor almost it's going to make this huge trough and it's been pushing out that way and eventually it's going to break it and we think maybe tonight or tomorrow night and then the water will drop it's going to flow out of here real fast and it's going to be bugs and it's going to rain hopefully now we're going to publish

Thor Freya

Olympus

It's kind of tough to mind from below but it is full of cadmium too

Thor Freya

I'm there

Trump

No you're not we are

Mac

Okay stay out of there

Empire

No no we won't

Bja hahaha I don't say that bja you idiot

We're there

Tommy f

[dearjamesxo]

[drabble under cut]

Billy stands there, bear-chested and gorgeous, illuminated by streaks of midday sun streaming in from the windows above. His posture is rigid, on the defense before Leo has even had a chance to state why he's here.

After four months abroad, visiting his cousin, Alexander, Leo imagined his homecoming would be more than the cold, empty reception he received. If it wasn't for Spike taking it upon himself to retrieve Leo, Leo would still be wondering if something happened to Billy while he was away.

As it turns out, no, Billy is fine, all in one piece, he just didn't feel the need to let Leo know he's no longer interested in doing...whatever it was they were doing before Leo left. Leo refuses to label it as anything significant now that it's been made clear that it only ran deep on one side.

Jessie, face pained in sympathy, glances between them as Leo and Billy stand off, the silence thickening into a suffocating cloud that congests the room. From behind him, Spike squeezes Leo's shoulder. Leo feels his presence retreat, hears him clop up the stairs, narrowly followed by Jessie after she tries to offer Leo a sympathetic smile. The door creaks, a rush of sound from the street, creaks again, and Billy and Leo are alone.

Bea isn't around. In Colchester with Watson gathering witness statements, Spike mentioned on the trek back to the cellar. Well, that's what Leo was able to parse, anyway; Spike's cheeks were stuffed with confections Louise had a scullery maid assemble for him in a basket.

Their friendship might baffle many, but it makes complete sense to Leo.

Unlike Billy, who hasn't moved an inch or spoken a word since he rolled to his feet upon Leo's arrival. Leo can’t discern Billy’s expression, resting between aggressive and ashamed, as if he’s aware he’s done something awful but won’t apologize for it. And he has, he’s ripped open Leo’s chest and filled the cavity with so much bitterness and betrayal that Leo’s scarcely been able to draw a satisfying breath since he again set foot on British soil.

Leo desperately wants to hate Billy, wants to lash out and make Billy hurt as much as he’s hurting. But he can’t. Could never. Because he cares too deeply for the young man standing across from him that to hurt Billy would be to damage himself irreparably.

“Why?” Leo croaks when the silence becomes too much.

“Why what?” Billy says, fists clenching at his sides.

The harshness of his tone burns.

“You haven’t come to see me since I came back…” Leo looks away, can’t bear to watch Billy hate him for a reason Leo hasn’t been given. “I thought—”

“What? That I’d wait for you, just sit on a shelf doing nothing while you gallivant across Russia with your girlfriend?”

Leo’s head snaps up. “What are you talking about?”

Billy takes a step forward, eye blazing, ready for a fight, “I heard your Princess—” He spits the word, “Joined you on your holiday. That you n’ her were seen looking,” Here he uses his fingers to quote, “Madly in love. The perfect bloody pair, ay?”

“Where did you hear that?” Leo wonders, brows sinking in the middle.

“Who cares? It’s true, innit?”

Yes and no, Leo doesn’t say. Though not at all in love – at least to a degree that matters – he and Helena are remarkable at presenting themselves as the epitome of a love match. A fact Billy probably won’t appreciate hearing. Especially since he isn’t wrong that Helena was in St Petersburg, even if it was at the behest of Leo’s mother. The Queen believed it would do well for their public image that they be seen together. Again, a fact that Billy would bite his thumb at.

“Billy,” Leo’s voice shakes, afraid that what he has to say will be taken poorly, “You knew before that Helena and I have a duty we must fulfill. Together.” For a second, Billy looks thoughtful, eyes downcast and stance softening, “You said you didn’t care.” In an effort not to appear too affected, Leo straightens his back and juts his chin out, “If you’ve changed your mind, I think I deserve to be told. Not treated as a stranger to who you owe no explanation.”

Billy huffs, licks his lips and watches the ground as he crosses the room to his bed.

Leo trails him with his gaze, refrains from ranting as he wants to at Billy’s back. A back that Leo’s mapped the texture of with his lips and tongue, has seen bowed and arched in rapture, has felt the strength of under his palms as Billy rocked into him like the tide.

He missed Billy deliriously while he was gone, thought of little else to the point where Helena offered to rent him a strapping, blond man to use to work it out of his system. Leo didn’t, would never, but he did bring into his bed one of the toys Helena hid amongst her things, and fucked himself silly on it until he was able to do more than sulk over Billy’s absence.

Something in his expression must reveal where his thoughts traveled because when he refocuses, Billy’s features are slack and heated.

“Fuck.” Billy throws his hands up, rakes his fingers through his hair then scrubs over his face. He drops his arms and hits Leo with a fiery stare. “Just,” He growls, paces toward Leo, halfway back to his bed, toward Leo again to grab Leo by the shoulders and look him in the eye, “Did you fuck her?”

Leo’s hands fly up to frame Billy’s face, his gaze flickering between Billy’s eyes. He says firmly, “No. And I won’t, Billy, not until I have to, you know that.”

Billy’s voice is soft and defeated when he utters, “Do I?” He drops his forehead against Leo’s, runs his hands up to clutch Leo’s jaw and pull Leo into a quick, chaste kiss. “Jesus,” He whispers hoarsely, biting at Leo’s mouth, sweeping his tongue over the sting. “Do I know that, Leo?” A shuddering exhale and then he says, “How do I know you aren’t lying to keep me around?”

Billy continues nipping and soothing, chasing kisses as if he can’t help himself, wasted enough energy trying to resist tasting Leo as much as Leo wants to be devoured after so many weeks apart.

Putting a staying hand to Billy’s chest, Leo leans back to tell Billy very honestly, “You know me, you know I would never do that to you, to anyone.” Leo squeezes his eyes shut before he confesses, “I’m in love with you, William Marlott,” Billy gasps and his body sways into Leo’s. He captures Leo’s mouth in a dizzying performance of tongue and teeth. When they part for air, Leo quirks the tiniest smile, “You enormous bellend.”

In an arousing display of strength, Billy hooks his hands under Leo’s thighs and lifts, forcing Leo to wind his legs around Billy’s trim waist and his arms around Billy’s shoulders. Billy reaches up to give Leo a wet kiss and then turns on his heel, carrying Leo to his bed where he deposits Leo nonchalantly. Billy climbs after Leo, crawls up Leo’s body before insinuating himself between Leo’s legs, arms bracketing Leo’s head. Their noses bump, lips meet, and, at last, Billy quells the last of Leo’s doubt by saying, “I missed you so much, darling.”

Billy spends the next hour earning Leo’s forgiveness.