#but i fear he'd b like 'so you WERE a hallucination'

[skyddish]

god bless jean for not frying neil's hair past recognition in the nest. the romance aspect of aftg might not've been the same if neil were bald toward the end :\

[starryficsfinishwen]

do u think that long distance enemy romance got roland fucking his fist over commandant ...

I intended to answer this ask when I first received it (anw long story short I choked on my breakfast that day LOL) so I

wrote this with my kiffy. no others words can be explained.

[NSFW under the cut!]

NSFW THEMES: male masturbation, hallucinations that the reader is giving him a blowjob and riding him, I think that's mostly it.

banner credits - @/cafekitsune!

“Fuck you, Roland.”

“You wish could be interpreted as your deepest desire, Commandant.”

The sweet, sinister smile on your face could only make the very steel heart of Roland rattle. “...it's up for interpretation, then.”

From that small exchange alone, alongside the used panties that Roland "mysteriously received" from the Commandant in question, Roland would never have thought he'd find himself in this predicament:

Fucking his fist over for you.

The obscenity, should you have known, would have made you flabbergasted if you ever encountered it.

Low groans and choked breathing. In a spare room where no other corrupted or Ascendant could hear, Roland sits in front of the mirror. How stupidly obscene this part of the play was; him, jaw slacked and sweat on his face, panties wrapped around his hard and leaking shaft, a steady pace as he bucks his hips, jerking off to the very thought of you.

This was something that only teenage boys with raging hormones do. But even Roland himself couldn't believe he's doing it.

“Such a painful little tease, dear,” he grits his teeth as he treads along the edge of ecstasy, sensitive tip now rubbing the wet part of the panties, “hah- fuck, you are such a mischievous little minx.”

Would you believe that not even Roland's shadow could save him from the horny mess he was in?

“I should have killed you when I had the chance, ngh,” the feeling was far too good when he wraps the panties around his shaft, eyes now deceiving himself when the reflection in the mirror shows a hallucination of you, “b-but now, you're the one making me fucking imagine you under me...”

He smelt your panties before he had it on his cock. It smelled rich with your arousal, as if you were touching yourself before you had it sent to him. He thinks it must have been the reason for this hallucination of you, with that dirty mouth of yours, doe eyes looking at him as you took all of his cock in your mouth. Oh, the feeling, it made his M.I.N.D. wonder— how would such an esteemed commandant like you would look like under him? Fuck, you must be so compliant, Roland thinks; that little mouth of yours that loved to curse him, used like a fleshlight for him to just use. Pretty doe eyes looking at him with fear and admiration, breathing through your nose, nails raking on his thighs, as he chases his high. God, this empty space meant nothing if Roland couldn't fuck you here.

When he blinks, the grip on his cock tightens— he must be onto something, as he sees your body in the mirror, pussy split apart by his dick. Your body, compliant with your legs slung across his thighs, hands clutching his arms. His M.I.N.D. must be playing games this time, but he can't help but indulge in it; after all, this was the body that he'd been imagining all this goddamn time, fueled by your teasing.

“Hah, Commandant [Y/N]...”

You would have loved this sight anyway.

Your attraction to Roland was not a secret subject. You knew, he knows— something that would make Babylonia punish you. But who were they to judge? Roland would burn the world just for a touch from you.

His fingers over all of your sensitive parts, tenderly teasing your nipples on your breasts, a bruising grip on your hips when he fucks you harshly, watching your tits bounce from every thrust, bullying your poor overstimulated clit, hearing your delicious moans— fuck, Roland would do everything, if it meant bringing Babylonia down, just for you—

“You minx, fucking ah-”

The thought of your pussy squeezing him when he ruts into you had him moan your name out loud, teetering to the edge of his climax. A cry of your name, the thought of you being claimed by him— Roland unraveled himself on your panties, hot, white, and heavy cum coating the inside.

As fast as the hallucinations came, they disappeared immediately. Roland, reveling in the unfortunate afterglow by himself, couldn't help but groan at the mess he made. It made him wish that it was you who was cleaning it up with your mouth.

Oh, the tragedy.

“Goddamn you, Commandant...”

Maybe it's time to pay back with a little gift to his Commandant, then.

I wrote this at 3 am in a daze LMFAO

— starry

[kudosmyhero]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (IDW) #23: City Fall - part 2

Read Date: January 22, 2023 Cover Date: June 2013 ● Writer: Kevin Eastman ◦ Tom Waltz ◦ Bobby Curnow ● Art: Mateus Santolouco ◦ Dan Duncan ◦ Sophie Campbell ◦ Andy Kuhn ◦ Ben Bates ◦ Kevin Eastman ● Colorist: Ronda Pattison ● Letterer: Shawn Lee ◦ Tom B. Long ● Editor: Bobby Curnow ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● title page. two vans. one is April's as they rush Casey to the hospital. the other belongs to the Foot Clan, where they are taking Leonardo to Kitsune and her priests. ● Raphael, Splinter, April, and Angel drop off Case. Donatello and Michelangelo are searching for Leonardo with orders to meet back at the lair in an hour. Splinter and Raphael prepare to head back while Angel and April stay at the hospital ● the doctor says a lot of sword wounds have been coming in lately, and he wonders why that is before he goes off to operate on Casey

● Splinter and the three remaining turtles meet back at the lair ● Donatello presents Splinter with Leo's katana, which they found, confirming their fears that the Foot have him ● surprisingly, another clue has been written on the wall: East River Midnite Can Help U! Hob ● which means Hob knows where they live ● Kitsune has Leo on some sort of stone table ● when Kitsune puts on the fox mask, she transforms into a fox ● she tells Leo, "I pose no threat to you. I am simply here to guide you…" ● he has some sort of horrible dream of being frightened of Splinter, and of Shredder saving him ● brainwash Leo time! ● back at the hospital, Angel tells April of some of her backstory ● doctor takes April and Angel to Casey's room. He's still on a ventilator and everything. amazingly no vital organs were damaged, but he did suffer significant trauma, especially to his abdomen. doctor also says Casey won't play hockey anymore ● here comes Casey's dad. oops, and he overhears Angel say, "You know it ain't right, April. A good guy like Casey don't deserve to suffer like this… but that loser dad of his sure as hell does." ● the dad turns around and leaves before they notice him ● Splinter and his boys heading to meet with Hob ● Hob is there… as is Slash

● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: April, Angel, Splinter and Raphael rush Casey to the hospital while Donatello and Michelangelo search the area around the docks for Leonardo. Paralleling the scene, Shredder, Karai and Alopex rush Leonardo back to one of the Foot's hideouts. April and Angel arrive at the hospital and get Casey inside; Splinter and Raph head home to meet Donnie and Mikey. Arriving at their hideout, Shredder dismissed Karai and Alopex and brings Leo to Kitsune. Casey is brought to an operating room while Leo is brought to a room Kitsune has prepared for a magic ritual.

At the Turtles' home, Donnie and Mikey present the only clue they could find to Splinter, one of Leo's katanas. However, they also show him the message they found scrawled on their wall when they arrived, an invitation from Hob to meet near the East River at midnight. At the Foot's hideout, Kitsune uses powerful dark magic to warp Leonardo's memories, altering them so that Splinter appears to be his enemy and the Shredder his ally. He even hallucinates that Splinter has killed his brothers, leaving him devastated.

In the hospital waiting room, Angel tells April about some of her and Casey's history – how their dad's were friends who had them around the same time, letting them grow up together. Angel tells April how she lost her mother in a car accident and didn't cope well, taking to running with the street gange the Purple Dragons. It was Casey that kept her from getting too deep into the gang lifestyle and winding up in jail or dead. The doctor brings them into Casey's room and tells them his condition is stable but he will likely never play hockey again. April wonders if they should call Casey's dad, but Angel already told her dad to tell him, saying he'd probably be too drunk to care anyways. Casey's dad, who was about to enter the room, overhears, and leaves.

Splinter, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo arrive at the meeting point and find Hob with Slash. Hob tells them he knows where Leonardo is, and he can help them get him back. Hob says he can sense tension in the city escalating, and they need to choose sides. He offers to partner up with the Turtles, despite their past altercations. Splinter says if he really can lead them to Leonardo, he will consider the offer. At the Foot's hideout, Kitsune's work is complete, and Leonardo accepts the Shredder as his new master.

(https://turtlepedia.fandom.com/wiki/City_Fall,_part_2)

Fan Art: TMNT: Feudal Era by jeftoon01

Accompanying Podcast: ● Shellheads - episode 46

[ere-the-sun-rises]

The last thing Bruce ever wanted was to see his children cry. No matter how old they got, how harrowing their lives had become, tears were just too much for him to bear.

It had been some time since Dick had been in Gotham in a professional capacity, and he should have known to remind him about how resistence to Scarecrow's toxin faded with time. He should have given him another gas mask and an antidote injector despite the fact Dick always had them with him. He should have-

"B-Bruce?" Dick's bleary gaze couldn't focus, laying on the wet, filthy pavement with his domino mask starting to lift at the edges.

"I'm here, my boy." He had taken care of Scarecrow's goons and the man himself before returning to Dick, since they had left him once the toxin took effect. He should have come sooner-

"Bruce, please-" Dick started to crawl towards him, his breaths interrupted by hitching, hiccuping sobs that sounded like they'd been wrenched from his chest. Worse yet, Dick kept calling him Bruce despite being in the Batsuit. It tore at his heart that whatever hallucinations he was experiencing, Dick was so overwhelmed that he ceased to be the Bat entirely - just like when Dick was a boy and had broken his ankle. He'd screamed and cried for almost an hour, feeling like the last vestige of his parents was being torn from him. He'd only calmed down when he'd been wrapped in Bruce's arms under the shroud of the cape. Poor Clark hadn't even known what to do with himself watching them.

Before he gets the chance to kneel down and pick Dick up, the man grabs a hold of his ankle and pulls himself across the ground to curl around his leg. Dick pulls himself up his calf to his knee, then winds around his leg tightly. Dick presses his face into his thigh and the sobs pick up their intensity again.

"Oh, darling boy." He coos, running a gauntleted hand through Dick's soft hair. "It's okay. I've got you."

"Please, B, please-"

He can't kneel down to pull Dick into his arms like he wants to, so he pulls the cape around to drape over them both, concealing Dick like he was Robin all over again. Instead, he keeps petting his hair and murmuring reassurances - something the hallucinations never do - until Dick's calmed down enough to stop crying. Exhausted, the poor man has cried himself half-asleep before his grip on Bruce's leg slackens enough for Bruce to gently peel him off and hike him up into his arms.

"B?" Dick murmurs, coming out of the fugue.

"Don't worry about it. We're going home. I'll take care of everything."

Dick hums against his neck, arms thrown around his shoulders. "I know. Y'always do."

Once they're in the Batmobile, he can't help but stroke his son's face, his warmly toned skin now blotchy and sallow in fear and exhaustion. He should have done a lot of things, but there's more important things to focus on tonight.

When Dick wakes up the next morning, he's disoriented for a long moment as he tries to understand why the sun is hitting the bed. His room in the Manor gets afternoon sun. It's only the embedded scent of Bruce's standard cologne in the oversize shirt he's wearing that clues him in - this is Bruce's room, Bruce's shirt and Bruce's bed.

At least Bruce isn't physically present to witness his mortification.

In his place is Zitka, with a folded paper in her old and worn arms. Dick takes the page, jolting when something falls out and hits his lap. When he picks it up, he finds a thick-banded black steel box bracelet with a luminescent white pearl centred on it. He feels like he's seen it before, but he's not sure from where. He opens the letter to find Bruce's crisp, calligraphic handwriting.

"There is no shame in fear, or in needing a hand to be pulled out from it. Before I had you and your siblings, I had this - a reminder, but also a comfort. I hope that when I'm not able to be there, or when I'm gone, that this bracelet can do the same for you.

Bruce"

His vision blurs for a very different reason than it did last night. He slips the bracelet on, thumbing the pearl, then brings it up to his mouth and kisses it. Bruce wasn't a materialistic man and was free with his possessions ans personal space (with his family anyway), but Martha's pearls and Thomas' cufflinks were always off-limits. This ... This is more than a comfort gift - it's a legacy of hurt and healing, of rediscovering love.

Bruce says nothing about it at dinner, even though Alfred's eyes had widened at seeing him wearing it.

And in the future, when Bruce is gone, Dick will wear it every time he goes to the Manor, every time he visits Bruce's grave. He'll be wearing it when each of his children are born and when he holds his first grandchild, named in honour of his great-grandfather. And at the end of his life, he'll give it to his eldest and say "My grandmother gave this to my father, and I'm giving it to you. It's seen the best and worst in all three of us, and I hope that it can do the same for you."

He won't live to see it, but the first time Bruce Grayson slips the bracelet on, he rubs the pearl with his thumb and smiles.

I can't stop thinking about Bruce coming to the realization that his children are grown up.

Like this man is huge, he used to absolutely dwarf his little Robins, and could carry each of them in one arm at some point.

This man will hug one of his kids and realize they no longer fit under his arm anymore, that some of them are, and will become taller than him.

He'll probably reminisce how his children used to hide under his cape whenever they felt scared or just wanted to have fun, and Bruce realizes that they're all so grown that they can't really do that anymore and that they don't really need to rely on their dad to protect them now, and I bet he just tears up at that.

He'll just be sitting in his office, looking at all his children's photos from when they were younger and he'll feel so proud at how far they've come, but also a little devastated at how he can't just scoop his kids up and shield them from everything the world throws at them.

I bet when Bruce is especially in his feels, he'll just think about when he first got each of them and how small and cute they all were, how they all slowly began to see him as their father, how they used to crawl into his bed when they wanted his comfort :')

Bruce will just think about how they each brought joy back into his life and how he'd literally do anything to keep them safe cuz those are his babies.

[xxx-rozes-xxx]

Offenderman Headcannons and Lore:

TW: TALKS OF SA*, OFFENDERMAN AND BRIEF MENTIONS OF STALKING AND MENSTERAL CYCLES!!

These are just my own personal headcannons of Offenderman and some character cleaning up.______________________________________

Sexual Offenderman is probably one creepypasta that could genuinely pass for something scary.

Sure, Slenderman is scary but nothing is more fearful than something that happens in real life.

His charater had so much potential but now its swamped by the fandom (which I don't blame them, he does honesty suck) but it could've been something greater.

Slenderman is scary because we know nothing of him solidly, we know what he does but not why. Offenderman wasn't the case and what potential he had was dismissed.

Personality, I believe Creepypastas are supposed to scary in an authentic way, dark or edgy. Offenderman misses that mark because of his unnecessary characteristics.

I'm not sending hate to the creator when I say this, they are not to be blamed. This is just the result of fandom culture. That's why I choose to write Offender the way I write him, I make the gore of it more digestible.

He isn't some loose cannon that "takes" women because he can, he "takes" for the power he looses. When they say "no" to him, he'll take advantage of them, not stalk them and move their furniture and unnecessary stuff like that. He's an eldritch horror, he should atleast be an interesting monster.

So with that out of the way, let's get into it.

The Offenderman;

Offenderman doesn't kill all willy-nilly, it isn't his style.

Similar to his brothers, he had his own taste. Even when that taste was foul.

He'll only pick the best of the best, a gardener will always pick the freshest flowers out of the field.

He'll watch and wait for the perfect time to strike.

Finding you alone before seducing you with his charm. Coming upfront about his 'proposal'. Offering a rose as a "sign of your beauty", but really a trap. Putting on a false 'gentlemanly look'.

If you accept his offering and take the Red rose:

If you fall for his act and decide to spend the night with him. You'll live but become violently ill with slender sickness, and in my own personal headcannon - all of the slender brothers' sickness have different side effects.

The first day to the 2d day you'd have amnesia, forgetting your night with him but also forgetting where you are and what you were doing 5 minutes ago coupled with flu symptoms.

By the 3rd to 4th day, you'd be violently coughing, thorns wrap around the inside of your throat as you cough up rose petals. Red rose petals. (Like hanahaki disease)

The side effects cause changes in your body and mind.

Hallucinations will occur of him following when he's not

Dissociation and mood swings

If your AFAB, you'd miss your monthly or start it early, throwing your hormones all over the place.

You'd get hot flushes and headaches, as well as putting yourself in danger on purpose.

Walking down dark alleys at night. Leaving your doors unlocked, ect. All because that's what his sickness does, make you a target to other horrible men similar to him.

Luckily, the sickness is the shortest one of the brothers. Only lasting 7 days.

But even if it may be the shortest, it is the most vital.

You could die from chocking in your sleep from the roses growing in your lungs in the early stages of sickness.

You could die from the dangerous situation you were compelled in.

Some take their own life because the pain is too much to bare.

However some do recover, yet none can remember the night that it happened.

2. If you denied him and did not take the rose:

If you denied him, he would then simply take what he wants from you.

Violating you then killing you.

Leaving behind a blue rose, indicating your "impossible nature".

He'd so carefully selected you and you turned out a bust. Pity, he'd think but not out of your remorse.

Either way, you'd most likely die at the end. An awful fate to those who were cursed with intimacy.

He'd take your body after death and bring it back to his garden and feed your poor soul to the soil in which he grows his roses...

They say the God Apollo had many tragic lovers all who died loving him, but most died trying to escape him, turned into flowers to escape his love for them.

I'd apply a similar anatomy to Offenderman. He is the incarnation of 'male rejections', not stopping until he gets what he wants.

He does not do this out of revenge, like his background expressed, does it because he is a greedy evil horror who cares for no real life but only how they reflect a beauty that he wishes to obtained. Like porcelain dolls in a glass case, each body fed to his garden, each rose, a head of his previous "lovers", crying out to the Gods for forgiveness. Crying to be set free from the thorns binding them to the earth.

It does not matter what sex you have, beauty in his eyes is something he sees as a collection because he was never able to grow that beauty himself.

Offenderman is not a pimp, a rebel nor a delinquent. He's a dark unearthly being who craves what is not his but what he believes he is entitled to. He doesn't care for human lifes or relationships, he is the avatar of lust and greed. Selfish and ruthless. The ghost that preys on younger women and men. Simply not a r*pist nor a seducer, no, he is a monster. A monster who carefully picks out his meals because that's what he believes is his saving grace.

Even the Devil shakes in fear when he hears his laugh...

[fangirl--of-everything]

Drowning (Arthur Curry x Reader)

A/N. I wrote this before Justice League came out, and so this doesn’t really go with movie Aquaman at all. But I really like the way I wrote it. Also, I honestly know barely anything about Aquaman and his powers and I know some of this is wrong but I like it.

Requested: nope

Word count: ~2100 words

Warnings: violence, attempted murder

PLEASE REMEMBER: I do not take requests anymore, so please do not send me any.

Enjoy :) 

(Y/n) crept forward, camera held tightly against her chest. She crouched lower behind the shipping container she was using for cover, peering around the edge of the metal crate to get a clear view of the smugglers. They'd been stealing medical supplies from the marine biology lab, and she was tired of it. Her lab was already understaffed, underfunded, and under supplied as it was. She wasn't about to allow a group of low level thugs looking for cheap drugs to destroy her life's work.

They were loading the shipments into three large black vans, and she shifted to get a clearer picture to use as evidence. As she leaned forward her phone slid out of her pocket, hitting the concrete with a rattle. The two men closest to her stilled. She froze, heart pounding rapidly against her chest, as the one nearest to her turned, eyes narrowed. His eyes scanned the dark shipyard and she scrambled back, careful to be as quiet as she could.

She huddled against the metal shipping container, hand over her mouth to silence her frantic breathing, her other hand clutching her phone to her chest in case it decided to light up in this unfortunate moment. She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to control her breathing, when she heard footsteps approaching her.

"No no no no." She breathed, scrambling deeper into the shadows, away from the approaching man.

Her fingers fumbled for her phone, struggling to dial while keeping the faint light hidden from man advancing towards her, all while pushing herself deeper into the shadows of the containers. Her frantic scramble caused her back to bump into something not quite solid. She froze, eyes widening with fear and understanding, and rushed to her feet.

The man behind her grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her backwards. Fire raced along her scalp and she screamed, before a fist connected with her jaw, the sharp pain stunning her. When the disorientation faded she realized she was being dragged to her feet-- when had she fallen?-- and shoved forward roughly. She moved to run and her attacker grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Her foot caught on something and she slipped, falling backwards. Her head connected with the side of one of the containers with a crack, and she blacked out.

A couple more smugglers were attracted to the commotion and walked over, until half a dozen were standing around the unconscious body. They all looked between each other and the body, none of them thinking to check for a pulse. The blood spilling from her temple onto the concrete was enough for them. This was the first time they'd had a situation like this, with a casualty, and they weren't sure what to do. It was just supposed to be a simple robbery, easy money. They hadn't signed up to deal with a body.

A woman shoved her way into the circle, and the others scattered in her wake, all but the two who had found (y/n). They shared a nervous look and moved to leave, but the woman's piercing glare kept them in place. They all knew her only as Lady White, and everyone in the crew was warned to steer clear of her. She was the one to call when things went wrong. And things had definitely gone wrong.

"What happened?" She asked, looked down at (y/n)'s body. "Who did this?"

One of the men raised a hand timidly. Lady White's cold gaze landed on him, and he fidgeted under her piercing state until she turned her eyes to the body in front of her.

"Grab a crate." She said calmly, crouching beside the probe form, cold fingers pressing against (y/n)'s neck.

"B-but," stammered one of the men, "shouldn't we call an ambulance or something."

"There's no point. She's already dead." The Lady said, ignoring the faint pulse fluttering under her fingers. What the men didn't know wouldn't hurt them. "The crate, now."

The three of them tied (y/n)'s feet to one of the small, heavy crates with little difficulty. When it came time, she sent the others away, knowing they might not have the stomach for what needed to be done next. Once they left it was easy for her to drag the body to the edge of the dock and prepare to shove her in. As she was rooting through (y/n)'s pockets, removing ID, cell phone, wallet, and cash, (y/n) stirred, groaning softly. Before she could wake fully, or make any sort of noise to put the operation in danger, Lady White grabbed the heavy shipping container and shoved it into the water.

(Y/n) came to just as the chains tightened around her ankles, dragging her over the side of the dock. She had less then a second to look at Lady White before she was dragged over the edge of the dock, the icy November water snapping her further out of her stupor. She tried to scream, but she was already feet under water and all she did was take in a mouthful of salty ocean.

Instinct kicked in, and she started swimming as best she could, going so far as to rise a few inches in the choppy water before the weight of the heavy crate started to drag her down. She bent in the water, struggling to untangle herself from the chains, but they were too tangled in her legs, and her fingers were already growing numb from the cold. She felt pain in her head, her ears popping, and she relieved the pressure. Dark spots flashed across her vision, pressure built in her chest, and she realized she was drowning. As someone who had spent half her life in the water, the thought was strange. This wasn't how she was supposed to die.

The pressure was building, her lungs squeezing painfully, the dark spots growing. She could see the moon, but only barely, the weak light miles away. The salt water stung her eyes and burned her throat as it crept past her lips and into her nose. She couldn't even reach her arms up her limbs were so cold. Her lungs screamed. Something cold slid along her leg and she spotted a school of fish, silvery and slim, before they darted away from her, disappearing into the gloom. She was left alone as the crate hit the sandy bottom of the ocean, sliding to a stop some twenty feet below the surface.

The pressure was too great, and she wanted to open her mouth, let the water in, relieve some of the pain in her chest, head, lungs, but her body wouldn't cooperate. Her mouth stayed locked closed, lungs screaming. Through the near darkness she saw another shape, this one larger, moving towards her through the murky water. She felt a stab of fear-- she knew exactly what sort of dangerous creatures made their homes here. It dawned on her that her two options were death by shark attack-- a very unlikely occurrence-- or drowning. The fear faded, leaving her all but numb. Her chest pinched, something in her brain shifted, and her mouth opened, lungs welcoming the water that flowed in instead of oxygen.

The darkness spread more rapidly now, but she was still able to see the dark form take shape as it advanced in her, taking on the form of a man. An angel, or a hallucination, judging by the flashing halo of silver fish around the figure's head, and the length of dark hair surrounding their face. A low vibration raced through the water, humming in her chest, and the angel's piercing blue eyes came into focus before she lost consciousness.

——-/—/——-

Phillip couldn't say he was surprised when his house began to echo with a heavy pounding from the front door in the dead of night. Arthur had a habit of showing up unannounced. He usually left the door unlocked, but they usually didn't expect him until closer to December. He was a few weeks early. Still, Phillip rolled out of bed, ignoring the ache of his bones and the twinge of pain in his knee. Eva stirred beside him, but didn't wake, and he crept downstairs quietly so as not to disturb her.

He was expecting to open the door and find Arthur, dripping wet, improperly dressed, his dark hair freezing at the tips, with a bucket full of fish in one hand. What he wasn't ready for was Arthur's fists to be bloody, bruises forming on the knuckles. And he certainly wasn't prepared for the unconscious woman limp in Arthur's grip, watery blood sliding down her scalp, body almost blue from cold. Phillip's mouth fell open, eyes widening, and he swore in that moment the amount of grey in his hair doubled.

"Please." Was all Arthur said, eyes begging. His voice was gruff, the way it always was when he arrived, as if it hadn't been used since he'd left the year before. His eyes looked tired, more tired then Phillip was used to, muscles in his arms quivering, the lines in his face deeper than usual. Exhaustion rolled off him in waves.

Phillip nodded, guiding the other man into the kitchen. They laid the unconscious girl down on the table, and with a wave of Arthur's hand the water rolled off her clothes and out of her hair, pooling on the floor. Phillip stared with wide eyes. He had seen examples of Arthur's power before, everyone in the town had, but never had he displayed them so openly before. It was startling.

"Blankets?" Arthur asked, turning to look at Phillip. "And wake Eva."

The older man nodded and hurried upstairs to wake his wife and fetch some blankets. When he returned, Eva following behind, they found Arthur pulling water from the girl's lungs. One hand hovered over her face, rising slowly, a rope of brackish water following in its wake. There was much more than Phillip had expected. It was as if she'd swallowed half the sea.

Eva gasped beside him. "What are you--"

Arthur raised a hand, and she fell silent, watching in awe as the water wrung from the woman's clothes rose to join the snaking rope from her mouth, all of it moving together to disappear into the sink. Now she lay on their table, completely dry, except for the blood beginning to dry on her scalp and the side of her face.

“She needs a bed for the night.” Arthur did not ask. Phillip and Eva did not answer. Phillip wordlessly handed the blankets to Arthur and went upstairs to make up the guest room, and his wife went to put on the kettle.

Arthur waved a hand and wrung the water from his clothes and hair, and then wrapped the woman in the blankets lifted her up, shifting her weight in his arms until her head rested against his shoulder. She was starting to look less blue, colour returning to her face and fingers. Hypothermia would probably not take her. Still, he walked past the bedroom, where Phillip was making the bed, and instead walked into the small bathroom. He lay the unconscious woman down on the floor and ran the water warm, letting the tub fill. While the water ran he unwrapped the woman from her blankets and began to peel off her recently-dried clothes.

“What are you doing?” Eva asked, appearing in the doorway with a tray of tea and mugs in her hands.

“She needs to get warm.” Arthur said.

Eva pursed her lips. “She wouldn’t like to be undressed by a strange man. You take this,” he didn’t have time to answer before she pushed the tray into his hands and waved him out of the bathroom, “and I will take care of warming her up. Go wait with Phil.”

The door closed in his face before Arthur could say anything else. He shook his head with a small sigh and walked into the spare room, handing Phillip a cup of tea and sitting down beside the other man.

“Are you staying?” Phillip asked, eyes widening in surprise. Arthur never stayed the night.

Arthur shrugged wordlessly, his shoulders shifting the thin fabric of his tank top. Phillip put his cup down on the side table and got to his feet, heading to the closet to get the clothes Arthur always left here for when he came into town. If the man was going to stay, he needed to dress for the weather. Even if the cold never seemed to affect him.