#giving them a burst of swimming speed when needed!

[metal-mum]

Frogger is a Frogfish don't @ me

Not my best but she's honest work. Prolly will redo it digitally or something, yippee!

[starlightsearches]

Hi Star! Huge congratulations on your 2k milestone - it is so well deserved!!

Could I possibly get "Let's Hear it for the Boy" with our beloved ginger general?

Thank you so much and congrats again!!

Drunk / In Love

Track 3: Let's Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams - Give me a character and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons on how they would want you to show them that you love them. 

General Hux x F! Reader / 📼 ✨ mixtape milestone ✨ 📼

Thanks for the request, my love! Sorry it took me so long!

The idiots from these two stories are back again. Sorry I'm obsessed with them (I'm not sorry at all). Warnings for some minor sexual content and weird consent issues!

Phasma said you were drunk.

What she failed to mention was how—how drunk you were, or how you ended up that way. It was only supposed to be a friendly dinner when Hux first suggested it (and didn't stop suggesting it until Phasma finally gave in).

He thought if you made connections here—even just one—that it might make you more comfortable being with him on this ship, and so far from anything familiar.

Although this might be too familiar.

He reaches the door to Phasma's quarters and they glide open automatically, programmed to recognize his approach. He sees Phasma seated at the table, out of uniform, a smirk playing on her wine-stained mouth.

Armitage is not prepared for the dark flash in his peripherals, or the arms around his neck.

Your embrace frightens him, and that alone is enough to leave him feeling hot, stomach swimming, even when he recognizes your touch on instinct. It has him weak at the knees, just this, has his heart in his throat as all the alarm and panic well up inside him, threatening to spill out.

Then your lips meet his. 

There's been a handful of almost-affectionate moments shared between you. The brush of your hand as you wished him goodbye one morning. A kiss on the cheek that missed its target, landing at the edge of his lips.

But nothing like this.

Hux can feel your mouth shift against his, lips turning up at the corners, and the little laugh that passes through them—maybe at the way his hands hang limply at his sides, or the crop of perspiration blooming at his collar from the warmth of your skin, the smell of you. He can't make himself kiss you back, although he wants to.

He really, really wants to.

There's no malice in your eyes when you pull away—Armitage doesn't think you're capable of malice. You smile at him sweetly, taking his hands in both of yours.

"I missed you," you tell him, each word bleeding into the next, eyes half-lidded and hazy from whatever you'd been drinking, "did you miss me?"

"I- uh, yes," he answers—unavoidably honest—his eyes flitting towards Phasma, who's so pleased with herself it practically drips from her, hanging heavier on her shoulders than the armour she usually wears.

A hot anger floods through his stomach, spiked with acrid shame. He doesn’t need any witnesses to his inept attempts at marriage.

Your smile widens, every facet of you bursting with delight knowing that he’s missed you in the hours since you last spoke his name, and then he’s back in your embrace, the sound of sweet laughter in his ear. 

He reaches out for something to brace himself on, and finds nothing. It takes everything in him to keep standing. 

Armitage peels your arms from around his neck, putting a desperate inch of distance between himself and the press of your body. 

"Why don't we let the captain get some rest?" he asks.

Your enthusiasm at the suggestion turns his stomach into knots.

He's able to usher you through the empty halls at a speed just short of a jog, one hand at your waist to keep you from stumbling, and the other wrapped firmly around your wrist to stop any further attempts at touching him.

And, though he can’t puzzle it out just yet—with the warmth of you still against him—he knows something is wrong with you. Something that wine alone could not bring on.

Armitage knows you don’t want him. Not like this. 

Yet you practically drag him through the doors of your quarters, mouth planted against his before the mechanical lock whirs into place. 

All the desire in him makes him sick—feverish and weak. His body shudders against yours, nerves trying to break through skin at the gentleness of your touch.

“Armitage,” you whine, pouty in a way he’s never heard before—always so polite and obliging when you’re sober, “kiss me back.”

He couldn’t refuse you, even if he wanted to, even though he knows it would be better for both of you—knows the way this memory will torture him endlessly, until the moment he dies. Maybe long after that. 

But still, he cups your face in shaking hands, and presses his uncertain lips to yours.

And it’s nothing like all the times he’s thought about this—about taking you, feeling the warmth of your breath mingling with his own, pulling you tight against him with his arm at your waist and kissing, kissing, kissing you, until he tires of the feeling, until he rids himself of all his hideous need to be loved and to be wanted. 

It’s nothing like he imagined because he’s terrified. Because he can’t manage to move the ways he wants to, tripping over his feet when you stumble deeper into his chambers. Because his stomach roils at the feel of your tongue against his stubbornly closed mouth, and his arms shake with the need to move, but his hands stay where he placed them, holding hard enough to bruise, pulling you closer with enough force that part of him wonders if he’s hurting you. 

And still, your mouth on his, your wandering, eager hands. 

The room spins; Armitage’s reason leaves him when his feet lift from the floor, your body underneath him, and below that the cushion of his bed molding you together.

Still kissing. Still you. Your hand, guiding his down the thrumming pulse of your neck, lower. Lower.

Armitage is on the other side of the bed before the thought of how wrong what he has done truly registers, his feet planted and one hand pushing back the fallen strands of his hair.

 “Armitage?”

He curses the day you learned his name, curses the ill, vile part of him that wants to go back. 

He clears his throat and finds it doesn’t steady him at all. 

“You- you should get some rest, I think.”

Your movements are clumsy as you crawl to him on your knees, fighting against the thick bedspread and the fabric of your skirt. There’s a little huff on your lips when you reach him, eyes big and wide and brimming with glistening tears. 

“Why don’t you want me?” you whisper, and tears well up to their breaking point, slipping down your cheeks.

Fuck. He wants to touch you, and knows it’s a terrible idea, palms aching beneath the leather he wears and hates—now more than ever when it keeps him from you. His hand reaches out against his will, hovering just out of reach of your skin and the tears he can’t manage to wipe away because, once again, he is the cause of all your suffering. 

 “You’re- you’re drunk, darling. You’ll feel better if you just-”

“No,” you tell him, pushing his hand away with your own, “why don’t you want me ever?”

Oh, gods. Armitage recoils like you’ve slapped him, the sting of those words and what they mean destroying everything—every moment he’s agonized over since he first saw you and knew you had to be his. 

“You . . . you can’t possibly believe that.” 

You nod your head, fists curled at your sides petulantly, and your stubbornness would make him laugh, if it weren’t so sad.

“I do,” he whispers, then swallows, reaching for your hand. You let him take it. It gives him something to look at, watching your elegant fingers intertwine with his. “I do, but I—”

How much of this will you remember? Even now, the idea of revealing this soft, vulnerable part of him strikes fear into his very core, has him wishing he could run, wishing he could escape the way your eyes flay him wide open.

Your hand against his chest, he can feel his own heartbeat meet the shapes of your fingertips, molding to you. Armitage meets your gaze, and as frightening as it is, there’s no part of him that could deny how deeply he craves it.

“Please forgive me,” he stutters, and there aren't words for him to explain everything he needs to, just the truth. “I am—oh, gods—I am a ruinous man.” 

He watches you, the muscles working in your jaw, the way your brows pull together, examining him, weighing the assessment of himself that he’s offered to you. 

“No,” you tell him, “no you’re not.”

He thinks you might kiss him again, as close as you are. Close enough for him to count each of your lashes, map the constellations you’ve hidden in your eyes. 

You drop to the mattress instead, and the look you give him has him holding back a laugh, the mix of stubbornness and grudging deference that has Armitage wondering how hard it’s been for you to play at obedience in your union.

“You should change,” he tells you, just resting on the edge of the bed, “you’ll be more comfortable.”

It’s easier to talk to you when you’re like this. It has Armitage feeling like he’s the one intoxicated, and he is, in a way. Because what if this is your most honest self? 

He didn’t think you could make him love you any deeper, but you’ve managed. 

“Don’t care,” you mumble into the pillows, trying to brush him away with a waving hand. He takes it in his own.

“You’ll ruin your dress.” 

There’s a look of intense focus on your face, and he wonders if you’ll refuse again. Maybe you don’t care about the dress either, although Armitage would be disappointed. It’s one of his favorites from your incredibly extensive wardrobe—a beautiful black and cream confection that always catches his eye.

But you shift instead, turning to look up at him. “Kiss me.”

Stars, not again. Not now, when the weakest parts of him are so palpable. “I- I don’t-”

You flop into a sitting position, hold a single finger up between your faces.

“One kiss,” you concede, “okay?”

He nods, despite himself. You wait patiently for his approach, still and hardly breathing through your parted lips as he slides closer. Armitage keeps his eyes open, and so do you, heavy as they are, watching the distance between your faces fade into nothing.

It’s not like the other times he’s kissed you, although all but one had happened only a few moments ago. You let him set the pace, his lips just barely brushing your own, a sigh bubbling up from deep inside his lungs. He can only offer a little more pressure before he’s lightheaded again, little bursts of light dancing across his vision.

He pulls back from what could hardly be called a kiss, and waits for your disappointment, for your insistence that he try again, that there must be something more, or better, that he’s kept from you. 

Armitage doesn’t want you to know that there’s nothing else to hope for. 

You don’t say a word about it though. Just flop your arms out in front of you, waiting, satisfied in your demands.

“Help me.”

And it passes like that, with more bribes in the form of barely-there presses of his lips to yours—a kiss for you to raise your arms as he slips something soft and oversized over your head, a kiss for you to clumsily remove the dress from underneath. A kiss to get you to leave him for a moment while he changed into his own night clothes after you’d begged and begged for him to spend the night beside you, and a kiss upon his return.

It feels like a lifetime of kisses to Armitage. He doesn’t know what that number would be for anyone else, but you’ve certainly exceeded it for him. He could die in his sleep tonight and have more than he ever deserved. 

And now you’re curled up beside him a hand at his waist, your head on his chest. Armitage breathes, but only barely, hoping he won’t wake you. 

The tension drains from him, his body the closest it’s been to relaxed in ages. He wonders if he should ask Phasma to invite you to dinner again.

He hopes the next time he kisses you, you'll be sober enough to remember it.

[5kindsofmagic]

Got an amazing pic of my favorite Spore creation, the Ramechi, from @afallenwolf. I love my dolphin/raptor/bugs so much! Species details after the break

They're a semi-aquatic, air breathing species that live primarily in the tropics of their planet. Their diet is primarily piscivorous, sashimi is a big part of their culture. Their bite force is on par with an alligator's. Their 6 eyes let them have binocular vision in nearly every direction. One pair of eyes is located in each half of the jaw, while the third is farther back and anchored in the main part of the skull. The crystal on the end of their tail is bioluminescent, and they use patterns of flashes as part of their language. Underwater, they almost exclusively communicate via light patterns. At slower speeds, they use their 6 webbed legs to swim with high maneuverability. But, if they need a burst of speed, they put that powerful tail fluke to use. Each limb has 3 powerful claws, easily capable of holding on to wet rock surfaces even when being battered by waves. Their striped hide gives them camouflage in long grass as well as sandy shoals. In addition, they possess a limited form of color changing, which they use to ambush prey or escape from megafaunal predators. On land their theropod-like stance gives them incredible speed and jumping capability. They are also capable of putting on bursts of speed to chase down prey.

They started out as merely pack hunters, much like orcas, developing languages of both vocalizations and patterns of flashes from their tails. Eventually they started to figure out how to create fish farms, and agricuture was born. With a reliable food source, they were able to settle in one place and develop tools, music, a base 12 counting system (since they have a total of 12 digits on their hands), and other technologies. They never colonized very far inland, always having a large body of water nearby to farm their food. A total of 4 other species reached a tribal level of technology on their planet, being content to stay to their own preferred biomes of plains, forests, mountains, and even one desert-dwelling species.

As Ramechi society and technology evolved farther past their neighbors, soon many different ideals came to the forefront. Some civilizations wanted to conquer the other through war, some wanted to convert them through religion. But, the one that would eventually unite the world was an economic powerhouse that outlasted all competition by focusing on long-term sustainability rather than short-term profits.

As the Ramechi took to the stars they dubbed themselves Knights, defenders of truth and justice wherever they roam.

[veronicaphoenix]

IKIGAI (or A REASON FOR BEING) — CHAPTER SIX

Lia’s chest rose and fell slowly against his arm wrapped around her. “I want to have a purpose, Noah,” she sobbed suddenly, the weight of her dreams mingling with the pain etched into her soul. “You have it, it’s just that now it’s too dark to see it.”

Chapter tags: best friends, parent’s neglect towards children, angst, comfort, dysfunctional family. | Word count: 2.4k | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*

CHAPTER 6

Lia is 13. Noah is 14.

Noah had a key to Lia’s house.

She had offered it to him months prior in case she didn’t show up at school or didn’t answer her phone calls and no one knew anything about her for more than a couple of days.

They had gone together to get a copy made, but the store had refused as soon as they had seen the two teenagers, hair disheveled from the bike ride to the shop and innocent faces, looking like they didn’t know exactly what they were doing there.

But they knew very well, and the truth was that they couldn’t tell the man behind the counter that it was a matter of safety. Someone outside the four walls where Lia lived needed a key, someone who cared about her, about her health, about her well-being and her simple existence, and no, that someone wasn’t the men who came and went and to whom her mother had left keys with which they disappeared, jeopardizing the security that a home should provide.

They had talked about it to Noah’s grandparents, but they were firm on the idea that getting a copy of somebody else’s house without their permission was not right. The house wasn’t Lia’s, and they also didn’t know half of the things that happened behind those closed doors because Lia didn’t want them to know.

Noah needed a copy because he was the only person willing to get Lia out of Hell. Since the last two years, they had never gone more than forty-eight hours without hearing from each other. Whether it was at school of by phone call, they were always in touch.

They left the store empty-handed that day, and Lia burst into tears, the weight of helplessness settling on her shoulders like a heavy burned. She thought she was deemed to be alone, to be loved by no one, and to be left to tend for herself. If a mother fails you, and you have no other family, what can you expect from the rest of the world?

But the world had given her Noah.

On the street, car traffic was flowing and the noise coming from the vehicles muffled her sobs.

Noah put his hands on her shoulders, giving her a slight shake, and assured her that they would get a copy. While Lia hardly had any friends (given her introverted nature and the speed at which she was forced to mature), Noah, at fourteen, had quite a few friends. Some of them were of age, and those who were not, had siblings who were, and one of them would be able to get a copy of the key without intrusive questions or arbitrary obstacles.

It wasn't just about having a key; it was about having the means to unlock the door to a world that threatened to consume her.

That’s how Noah got the key, and he didn’t have to use it until one summer afternoon, a month and a half before he turned fifteen. Although he had seen Lia the afternoon before and they had been swimming in the lake, something happened.

Noah’s world seemed to tilt on its axis as the rumors reached his ears. He had been having lunch at Nicholas’ when he returned home, and Hana told him that a gunshot had been heard around the Parker house, or at least, so she had heard from the neighbors down the street. She herself had called the phone number that Lia had written in a post-it and stuck to the fridge, to make sure it was nothing and that the girl was okay, but no one had picked up.

The afternoon spent with Lia in the lake now felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by an impeding sense of dread.

Noah left his house without asking any more questions, picking up his bike up off the driveway and pedaling as fast as his legs would allow him until he reached Lia’s house, fear increasing. He jumped off the bike while it was still moving, and he didn’t mind leaving it laying there on the asphalt, where anyone could pick it up and take it away. The bike was the last thing he cared about at that moment.

He rang the bell first even though his heart was drumming in his chest, and he was almost shaking. Sweat was trickling down his back and down his right temple, and a few strands of hair were sticking to his forehead.

He rang the doorbell again.

When a few seconds passed and no one answered, Noah’s desperation grew. He took a couple steps back as he strained to detect any signs of life within the house—any flicker of light or hint of movement.

The stillness fueled the knot of worry tightening in his stomach.  

He used the key, then.

Noah entered the house. The threshold between uncertainty and the truth lay before him, and with a deep breath, Noah pushed open the door, steeling himself for whatever awaited on the other side.

It smelled of alcohol and tobacco, as always; a testament to the turbulent environment that had become all too familiar to Lia. There were dirty clothes scattered in different corners and a couple of empty wine bottles on the wooden steps of the staircase. The house was loaded with furniture and junk, a total disarray, a fucking mess. The place where Lia lived.

“Lia?” His call was hesitant.

There was no one on the ground floor, and by then he didn’t care if anyone was in the house. He just wanted, needed, to find Lia. Find her okay.

Ignoring the chaos around him, Noah navigated the path to Lia’s room on the second floor.

The door was closed. He hesitated for a moment, the weight of the unknown settling on his shoulders, but the not-so-distant sound of Lia’s weak sobs broke through the silence.

With a deep breath, Noah pushed the door open, revealing a scene that both tore his heart and fueled his determination. Lia, that usually managed to be a pillar of strength, lay on her unmade bed, her tiny body curled into a fetal position. The sheets beneath her seemed to absorb the echoes of her pain. Her body was shaking.

His immediate concern cut through the heaviness of seeing Lia like that. Noah made sure there were no bloodstains marring the bedsheets. His eyes scanned the room for any sign of blood.  The room, cluttered with piles of books, boxes full of dry flowers, drawings stuck to the walls, and Lia’s discarded sneakers and winter boots told a story, but not of physical harm.

“Lia,” he called gently.

Her head jerked out of the shelter of her hands, and her big, wet eyes looked up at the boy from behind a curtain of light brown hair. Noah approached cautiously, giving her a moment to recognize his presence on the threshold of her bedroom. When he stood just a couple of steps away, Lia rose abruptly, throwing her arms around his neck in a desperate attempt at seeking comfort. Noah wrapped her in his arms, holding her more than hugging her, and he let her cry against his shoulder for as long as she needed.

After what seemed like an endless passage of time, Lia managed to pull herself together a bit and was finally able to tell Noah what had happened. They sat on her bed, shoes off, back against the headboard. Lia flexed her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees.

Her mother had brought yet another man to the house the night before, after her shift had ended. Thankfully, said man had remained blissfully unaware of Lia's presence in the house, at least until the next morning. Lia had gone downstairs to prepare breakfast, unaware that the man had brought a gun, a snubbie, with him, left it on the kitchen table and ended up covered by her mother's worn sweater. Before getting down to breakfast, Lia decided to pick up the laundry and put a load in the washing machine, since it could take Cristina another two weeks to do it. As she dropped the pile of clothes in front of the washing machine, the gun, which she had carried without being aware of it, went off as it collided with the floor. The bullet punctured one of the walls, but it could have gone out in another direction, and next to the pile of clothes Cristina could have found her thirteen-year-old daughter in a pool of blood.

What she did find was Lia standing in a corner of the laundry room, with her hands over her ears and completely paralyzed, and all she did was yell at her, push her, and remind her what a stupid girl she was. The man who came down behind Cristina in a hurry was wearing only boxers, but Lia didn't even notice that. The man said something to her, admonishing her for meddling with things she shouldn't have, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to leave weapons around the house, hiding underneath dirty clothes.

The absurdity of the situation only heightened Lia's confusion, the ringing sound of the gunshot still reverberating in her ears. She couldn’t understand anything.

Minutes later, concerned neighbors arrived, drawn by the commotion. Cristina, adept at managing appearances, plastered a smile on her face and reassured them not to worry. The neighbors, perhaps desensitized to the peculiarities of the Parker household, accepted Cristina's reassurances without delving deeper into the unsettling incident.

When the man left a couple of hours later, Cristina followed him suit. Her parting words to Lia were a callous directive to sort out the laundry, leaving her alone to grapple with the residual shock and confusion, the laundry room a silent witness to the perilous dance with danger that had unfolded mere hours ago.

Lia didn’t do the laundry. She didn’t have breakfast and she didn’t eat lunch either. She spent the day lying in her bed, recalling the moment in which she had dropped the clothes, the sound of the gun firing, the buzzing of her ears, the momentary shock in which she thought she was dead. It took her a full minute to realize that the bullet had gone in the opposite direction.

Throughout that day, Lia wrestled with the aftermath of the near-tragedy. The ordinary had become fraught with the extraordinary, and Lia grappled with the fragility of life in the wake of the incident.

The hole in the wall would still be there nearly two decades later, when the ebb and flow of life would lead Lia back to that same house to announce to Cristina that she would soon be a grandmother.  

By the time Lia finished talking, Noah had been rubbing soothing circles with his hand on her shoulder. He had put an arm around her and Lia, worn and vulnerable, had leaned into his body, resting her head on his shoulder.

Noah kept her close to him. He didn’t say anything. They remained in silence for a while. The only sound coming from the open window being the melodic chirping of the birds outside and the distance hum of cars navigating the streets.

When Lia lifted her head and looked up at Noah, she did so with a glint of resilience in her eyes. Though still watery, they were also shining. Their faces were so close that Noah could catch the faint scent of Lia's minty toothpaste—a detail that seemed almost intimate in its simplicity.

“Can you stay?”

Noah nodded without a second’s hesitation.

He would stay there by her side through any storm and after, to weather the echoes of whatever she went through. She had done the same for him multiple times by now. They were each other’s sanctuary.

Lia turned around and laid down on the mattress, giving her back to Noah. He laid down, too, and moved his body close to hers until they were touching —a gentle proximity— and wrapped an arm around her. Lia found refuge beneath Noah’s chin, and settled into the contours of his protective hold, her eyes closing in an attempt to escape the remnants of the day. Noah’s reminded open as he absorbed the vanilla-scented warmth emanating from Lia. She had this obsession with a vanilla and argan oil-scented shampoo that she would still be using years later, when they had moved out of this town and into a new home.

“Is it always going to be like this?” Her voice was low and laden with weakness when she asked.

“Grandma says it won’t,” He replied in the same tone. Lia’s hair prickled his chin. It felt nice.

Lia was trapped in the grip of the day’s events. She couldn’t shake the tendrils of doubt so easily.

“You believe her?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Even though his faith in his grandmother’s wisdom and beliefs some times failed, he wanted to hold onto the idea that things would be different; better.

“I can’t see myself out of here, in a different house, being a different person…”

As Lia expressed her struggle to envision a life beyond their current circumstances, Noah's grip tightened subtly, a silent reassurance that they were in this together.

“I’ll buy you a house.”

Ever grounded in practicality, Lia responded: “You don’t have money.”

And Noah, undeterred, replied: “But I will when I start selling music.”

It was a declaration of dreams and determination, a glimpse into the future that he envisioned not just for himself but for her, also.

Lia’s chest rose and fell slowly against his arm wrapped around her.

“I want to have a purpose, Noah,” she sobbed suddenly, the weight of her dreams mingling with the pain etched into her soul.

“You have it, it’s just that now it’s too dark to see it.”

“I don’t want to be like my mom,” she confessed, her voice slowing down, her sobs held under the last ounce of control she had left.

Recognizing her fear, all too familiar to him now, he responded full of certainty.

“You don’t have to be, and I’m sure you won’t. You’re good at so many things. You’re my best friend.”

As Lia’s emotions spilled over, her fears and dreams laid bare, she clutched Noah’s hand on her chest.

“Don’t ever leave, Noah,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of you, but please, take care of me.”

“I will,” he promised. 

Before she fell asleep with the mid-afternoon breeze entering through the window, she confided: “You’re my only reason for being.”

[fae-of-bone]

NAME—-suoii (named after a noise it makes when thrown like a dart in the air)

DIRECT NAME—- first small bone

—●—●—

ANCESTOR—- many small queen

CHANGES—- so from a glance you can probably tell that the souii has changed a lot. And you would also probably like me to tell why it's second mouth moved to the top it's head. And where its second fin went. To put it simple it's organs turned sideways. 

One mouth moved to the top no longer used for feeding now used to funnel fresh water through to keep the body oxygenated. The other mouth moved down, becoming more specialized for filter feeding. And their tail fins fused and became more boney forming one solid tail fin offering greater speed. 

And thanks to those changes they were able to get larger than ever however they were limited to how much oxygen the body could effectively use. So they developed blood this helped the body support its own need for energy but of course just developing blood wouldn't help. Along the back muscle fibers grew denser and eventually some ossified forming bone. This bone helped support muscle along the tail not only allowing for a faster swimming speed but also acting like a simple heart. Eventually however the bone began to grow 2 attachments for the muscle of the heart to directly attach to. And due to the organs turning sideways the birth gut moved to the bottom of their gut where the babies would have an easier time getting out. 

Now the babies have changed almost completely. Now instead of so many growing that the head pops off instead only 2-5 babies grow; after that the birth guts starts to feed the babies by filling the birth gut with nutrient rich paste. That way the babies are much more developed before coming out. Once they are ready to come out they will burst from their chest (kinda like a chestburster from alien). This does sadly kill the mother but frees the children and delivered nutrients to the small animal on the ocean floor.

—●—●—

LOCATION—- most of the ocean save for extreme depths

HABITS/BEHAVIOR—- they swim in small groups often in ocean currents. And while that is most common you can certainly find a few on there own. And when they sense danger they often swim in as low as possible hoping ether the predators crash into the sea floor following them or they just give up if the souii is able to hide.

DIET—- mostly filter feeding there mouth is full of seta to help filter food.

—●—●—

EXTRA INFO—- there young swim in large swarms for protection till they're big enough to fend for themselves.

OTHER—- they taste like beef when cooked.

[simp999]

A New Home Ch. 22

Various! Splatoon Manga x Skilled! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.4k

Back to the Start! Previous Next

While making a private battle for your team and the S4, you begin to wonder what you could possibly do to win against Emperor. Rage alone won’t carry you through the match, but it’ll definitely help.

The S4 have already spawned with their purple ink, and your team with orange.

Leo speeds off to the centre, Aloha doing the same. 

‘There isn’t much I can do. If Edging Jr.’s more agile than Aloha, then I can’t risk him facing Tasha.’

The two of them duke it out in the centre, Leo using the stage to his advantage and going behind the walls for cover. 

‘Leo wouldn’t stand a chance in a one-on-one, against him. He ties up almost evenly with 'Loha.’ 

You look over at Milo, who seems to be charging up his splatling, getting ready to aim at Army.

‘-and even having Milo spray and pray with his splatling isn’t enough. And that’s just one player.’ 

‘N-pacer wouldn’t be in Leo or Milo’s range, so it’d be charger vs. charger. But Emperor would want to take care of that quickly.’

Milo opens fire, and Army hides behind a nearby wall. Once Milo’s out of charge, Army comes out thinking he’s safe. Unaware that you were waiting. You jump Army, and splat him.

‘None of this will ever work against team Monarch! How could we possibly- no, no. I’m thinking of this all wrong. I’m thinking way too logically.’ 

Leo and Aloha have both taken lots of damage, and Leo looks much more tired than Aloha. He never did have good stamina.

‘We need to be unpredictable.’ 

Skull and Tasha have taken their respective spots, Tasha being a little closer to the center than Skull.

Mask slowly swims by, not showing any ripples in the ink. But he leaves a trail, and that’s what gets him splatted by you.

‘Use our specialties to our advantage.’

Leo backs away from his one-on-one to recover, and Aloha taunts him.

‘Stop working individually.’

Aloha doesn’t have time for another remark before Tasha splats him with no hesitation.

‘Work as a family.’

A moment of realization later, you shout out to your teammates while backing off and inking a few spots they missed.

“I’m sorry for lashing out at you guys earlier. Our best bet is to cover each other at all times!”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?!”

“Do it better!”

“Alright, boss!”

Mask realizes that it’s useless to be sneaky around you, so he attempts to attack from above, followed by a burst bomb. You pretend to be unaware that he’s there, dodging at the last second, only to let your back face him and dash off. ‘An easy target,’ he thinks. Before he can send another bomb your way, he’s hit with double the firepower from behind. 

“You didn’t really think our boss was that stupid, did ya?”

Milo makes his way closer to the center after you and Leo give him some easy inked ground to run on. After being splatted again, Army’s facing Milo. Milo keeps his distance, which annoys Army to no end. Milo isn’t landing any shots, though. Army smirks when he notices this, trying to close the distance. You won’t allow it, not with the way Milo was obviously giving you a clear path to surprise-attack Army. Milo moves in again to try and attack Aloha, forgetting that Skull was just barely in range. A quick tap of Skull’s trigger has Milo down, and Tasha fires right back milliseconds after, despite not having enough range to hit Skull. Aloha looks at the wasted ink.

“Hah! I thought you never mis-”

“SURPRISE!”

Aloha’s all bark and no bite, especially when his so-called #1 fan manages to take down his leader. Tasha made Leo a path straight to Skull because no, she never misses.

“Good job, Leo!”

“Booyah!”

You shake your head while looking at the S4’s results of the match. They’re strong individually for sure, but it’s useless if they don’t work together. Nobody up to this point has come close to their strength against you, but it’s still too easy. They still refuse to work together. Just about every splat that your team landed on them was because of a surprise attack, or because they were too preoccupied with another teammate.

“First off,” You vaguely gesture at Army, Aloha, and Mask, “Start super jumping to Skull. You were spending half your time making it back to center stage, only to be splatted again. Time wasted.” Aloha pretends to check his ‘nails’, still not wanting to work with the S4. Army slaps his hand down, and forces him to focus on you.

“Also, one of you stay back when Skull gets splatted. Tasha uses Milo as an anchor when she’s down in our practices. You do the same. I suggest Mask since he likes staying back and inking anyways.” You hear a groan come from Mask. you glare at him.

“Or you could just leave right now and never get any stronger. Your choice.” 

Mask straightens up just a bit, and tightens his grip on his roller. He doesn’t care what others think of him, but the more people that he can force into hopelessness, the better. If training means he’ll see stronger, and more players lose their will to battle again, then so be it.

“Alright, let’s do it again!”

“Alreadyyy?” Leo drags out his word like a kid being told that it’s time to get off their gaming console.

“You’re lucky you got a break at all. I don’t plan on stopping between every match.”

And so, the next few hours were filled with nothing but battles. Even Tasha’s aim was getting a little lazy, and that’s when your forced everyone into a break, which didn't take much convincing. You wordlessly helped Tasha stretch her arms while Aloha and Leo groan in exaggerated agony. Even Skull’s panting from how much you’re making him change positions during battle. Not that you’re not struggling too. You quietly do some breathing exercises to reset your system and trick it into thinking it can take all this. Milo refuses to complain, knowing that this is all for the best, but he’s sweating buckets. Two minutes into your break, and you think Mask is either dead or fell asleep insanely quickly. His chest is rising and falling quickly, so you assume he’s just resting.

“Training isn’t,-” Army huffs, catching his breath, “Isn’t efficient if we can’t do our best.” he takes another second to recuperate, “Any more than this and it will only harm us.”

You close your eyes in thought for a moment, slumping against the wall to your right and agreeing with him. No point in hurting anybody.

You slowly walk toward the entrance of Deca Tower, and only Tasha and Milo follow.

“Come on lazybones, I’m buying everyone dessert.” Leo and Aloha jump up at that, fighting about who’s going to get a bigger Sundae. Skull swiftly walks over, and you think that’s the fastest he’s walked in a few hours. Army points out that having dessert is not the best thing to consume after training.

“If you want to go eat some grass, go. You all deserve it, at the very least.”

You almost make it out of Deca Tower, but you notice someone missing from the group. You drag yourself back over to the possibly dead cyan squid, who’s laying on his back, on the floor. You very gently nudge his arm with your foot.

“Hey. We’re getting dessert.”

You nudge it again.

“I dooon’t caaaare. Just let me dieee.”

You nod in understanding. Mood.

You bend down right next to him, so only he can hear.

“I’ll buy you the limited edition copy of Squidracer.”

He already had other, older versions of the game, and that’s what he wasted his money from Salmon Run on. A limited edition is supposed to release tomorrow, but he doesn’t have nearly enough to pay it off, and there’s no doubt all of the copies will be gone in a matter of minutes.

He picks his head up off the ground to look at you in bewilderment. You must be joking, right? That thing’s like- 8, 000, 000 coins. Just what are you made of?

“For real. All I ask is that you try to keep up, and get stronger so that we can have a real, fun battle one day.”

He lightly nods, and you offer him your hand, forgetting that he’s not a fan of physical contact. Which means you don’t think twice about how he used your help to get up off the ground. A big step for him that you didn’t even notice. 

Even if he wiped his hand on his purple camo LS roughly to try to get rid of that unfamiliar touch.

You really do believe in every one of them, huh? You even believe that the least motivated of them has a chance at getting better.   

Next Part

June.5.23

[softquietsteadylove]

I love your teach me to love AU and I have a request!!

Thena, Druig and Phastos with his family are having a water fight 😁

they are in the middle of it (everyone playing, even Thena!) when Gil comes home from work and when he arrives in the garden he gets hit by a big water balloon! Lucky for Thena he has a white T-Shirt on 😏👀 (Ben is silently enjoying the sight too😳)

"No, get that away from me!"

"Come on, Phastos!"

"Then you try it!"

Gil bypassed the front walkway, circling around to the gate of the backyard fence. He chuckled at the sight.

Phastos was already soaked to the bone, much to his chagrin. Ben was reasonably doused as well, with Jack looking like he had gone swimming with his clothes on. Druig was a little bit drier, as was his mother, although their speed was clearly all that had saved them.

"Mum!" Druig belted out from the far side of the yard with his teeny-tiny water gun in hand.

Thena sped away from Phastos and his two water balloons.

"Druig!" Phastos complained, lowering his arms from what he had been planning as a double attack.

"That's my boy!" Thena laughed as she looped around the fence and scooped him up into her arms.

He laughed as she swung him around, tickling his belly until he was on the ground again. "Me'n Mum are a team!"

"That's right!" Thena laughed as Ben helped Phastos wring out his cardigan before lying it over the railing of the back porch. Her eyes caught the new arrival and she trotted over to him in her sandal feet, "welcome back!"

Gil accepted her gleeful welcome kiss all too happily, holding her at the waist as her arms slid around his neck.

"No one wants to see that!" Phastos yelled at them, although Ben pinched his side for it. "Hey!"

"You and Baba kiss all the time," Jack pointed out (and betraying his own father!).

"That's different," Phastos refuted, without so much as an attempt to explain why it was different in any way.

"Mister Dad!" Druig ran over, laughed as he was scooped up in one of Gil's strong arms and lifted up. "We're playin' water 'loons!"

"Balloons, Darling," Thena smiled at her son, running her hand through his hopelessly mussed hair. It wasn't as if they weren't all going to need to shower off later, anyway.

"Oh we are, huh?" Gil grinned, letting Druig down so he could run after Jack again. He took in Thena, with only a few errant damp spots on her here and there. "You seem to have made out pretty well."

"I'm lucky," she whispered to him as he deposited his work satchel safely by the deck and took off his vest. "Being Jack's favourite Aunt comes with perks."

She wouldn't have to be his only Aunt to be his favourite, of course.

"So what's this then?" Gil grinned, feeling bold enough - in their moment somewhat alone - to poke at the damp white material of her dress by her hip.

"Ben, and mostly Phastos, that's what," she shook her head.

"That's okay," Gil leaned in to kiss her cheek as Druig's laughter filled the air, "I'm here now. I'll keep you dry."

"Yes, my valiant protector, hm?" Thena smiled, holding his cheeks and brushing her thumbs over his skin.

"Mum, look out!"

Gil and Thena both laughed as he lifted and moved her behind him just in time to shield her.

"Come on!" Phastos cursed (as much as he could with the children present). "Gil!"

"Okay," Gil snickered, leaving Thena's side to get in on the action.

Thena stood back from it all, watching as Gil charged at Phastos, both equally tall men plowing into each other like kids Jack's age. The grass was also wet from the water balloons being burst and dropped everywhere.

Gil would land a few and then Phastos would. He also had Ben's assistance here and there. Gil held his hands up as Ben used the supersoaker on him. "Okay, okay, I give up!"

"Teaming up on an innocent man--how could you!" Thena shouted from the porch.

"How could you?!" Druig repeated, bouncing with laughter.

"Look at the size of him!" Phastos stated in his defense, wiping some sweat from his brow.

Thena bit into her lip, doing exactly that as Gil pulled at the white t-shirt now so plastered to his body it looked painted on. He gave up on wringing it out while it was still on him and finally peeled it off and over his head.

Gil wrung the shirt out and flapped it, oblivious to the show he was putting on.

Ben caught Thena's eye and shrugged; he didn't blame her for staring.

"Hey," Phastos nudged his husband, rolling his eyes at him. "I know he's cut, but keep your eyes up, Stoss."

Gil ruffled his hair, coming over to leave his shirt in the sunny part of the back deck to dry. He grinned at the colour in Thena's cheeks. "You know you get to look all you want, right?"

Thena turned her head, feigning some innocence, "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, really?" Gil chuckled, walking over to her.

She pressed a hand to his chest, "you're not soaking me to the bone, mister."

"Aw, come on," he pouted at her, arms still extended for a hug, "I can't even have a hug for protecting you?"

"Is protecting me not reward enough?" she teased, at least standing on her toes to kiss the corner of his lips.

"Fine," Gil sighed loudly, pouting at her even more. Until he gave her a wink, "tonight, then?"

Thena rolled her eyes up and away from him, although her smile grew as well, "I don't know anything about that, either."

[lumilasi]

UPDATE; redrew Marco's lion griffin legs, because they looked weird and tbh not fluffy enough

Their bio below:

Age: 22(Gianna), 16(Marco)

Nicknames:

For Gianna: Gia, Anna, Birdie For Marco: Marble brain (mainly by his sister)

Friends:

Gianna: She's often so busy that she doesn't really have friends close to her age but she gets along with both Kaspian's aunt Amalia, and the staff of her favorite hair salon, Alois (A bakeneko) and Taiga (A kitsune) Marco: Ichirou, Clover(he's more Ichirou's friend, but often hangs out with him and Ichirou), Hitomi (Ichirou's little sister)

Love interest:

Marco: Janus Kravchenko Gianna: Marisa Marisol-Raye

Occupation: Gianna has an apprenticeship and studies to become a fashion designer/seamstress, Marco is still in high school

Abilities:

Gianna:

She can transform into a birdwoman or a mermaid, meaning she can fly and breathe underwater

Being a siren, she has a very hypnotic singing voice, and can even apply the hypnosis effect while speaking if she wants to.

Her bird claws are very strong and sharp, she's able to cause pretty deep slashes and punctures with them.

Her mermaid shape allows her to swim faster than speedboat.

In turn, she can fly very fast too, up to 200 mph for short bursts of time, or alternatively hover around for hours.

She's an excellent seamstress and can patch up clothing very neatly, something she often does for her girlfriend or her brother.

Marco:

He can turn into a proper Griffon, or transform just partially, giving him wings, lion feet, or hawk claws.

He's very strong physically, able to lift up things five times his size easily. he can easily break even stone with his bare hands. He's generally pretty athletic in fact, able to run for long periods of time, hop quite high and essentially do parkour with ease.

He can fly very fast as well, though his mythical form being heavier he's not as fast as his sister, only managing half her speed.

He can see very far very clearly, able to spot even small details from hundreds of meters away.

His memory is actually extremely good, he just needs the right circumstances to memorize things properly.

Personality:

Marco is a cheerful, temperamental little ball of energy who gets passionate over things pretty easily. He is a bit gullible and easy to trick into doing stupid things, but is always willing to make up and apologize for any trouble he causes. While he struggles with his studies sometimes, he does enjoy listening to people he likes tell him about random stuff. He tends to memorize things better hearing it from a friend or his BF over the teacher (even if he likes his teach), which he believes is because he WANTS to remember everything a loved one eagerly tells him. He's very protective over those he likes, picking fights with people he might not have a chance of winning against. He's always up for shenanigans, be it helping Hitomi with her latest craft project, or going Ghost hunting with Ichirou and Janus. Gianna, like her brother has bit of a temper as well, and she tends to have little patience for stupid nonsense - or sometimes when stressed, minor inconveniences. She generally won't let people step on her or try to take advantage of her being young and new in her field. She's competitive and enjoys being center of attention, but tries to be mindful of other people's needs as well, putting aside her ego if it feels like her actions or behavior could end up harming someone. She is protective over her dumb little brother, because he has the tendency of ending up in trouble, and as much as they bicker, she loves him a lot.

Weaknesses:

Marco is gullible and easy to make do things he probably shouldn't. As a griffon, he is pretty easy to distract with shiny things/things he really wants. Be it some pretty stone, a cool videogame, or his favorite food.

He has some trouble with trying to remain focused when studying, and tends to doze off during lessons a lot, resulting in his grades not always being the greatest. In fact he's one year behind of where he should be, due to his learning difficulties, and this does frustrate him and impact his self-esteem, as he sometimes feels like he's stupid.

Gianna does have an ego, and it can sometimes cloud her thinking, making her act petty in a manner that ends up biting her in the ass later. Sometimes her bluntness can also hurt people in a way she doesn't intend it to. She also sometimes overthinks things especially when stressed, which can make her snappy and difficult to be around. Due to her busy life, she doesn't actually have close friends, which does sometimes weigh in on her, the only real confidant she has being her girlfriend's family, which she feels bad about.

Her mermaid form is harder for her to use due to her having extra bird being blood in her, and she tends to only be able to use it for couple hours at a time. Her siren song naturally isn't effective towards people with strong willpower/being deaf/just not being attracted to her even one bit.

Fun Facts

Janus and Ichirou always try to reassure Marco that he's not stupid when he says so, pointing out he's wiser than them in some aspects, such as remembering to take care of your basic needs like eating and sleeping. Not to mention he actually DOES learn well when under right conditions

Marco might also be attracted to nerdy people because he subconsciously hopes he'll become "less dumb" as well if he's around them.

His teacher Shura is working on accommodating for his learning troubles, such as giving him extra tutoring, and encouraging him to study together with Ichirou and Janus, since they seem to help him a lot

Marco's lion toebeans are a point of fascination for Janus, who likes to poke them everytime he's over and ends up falling asleep. (It's really just his general like for cats)

Janus is also on their class, but he tends to study from home a lot due to getting sick often. They actually first met because Shura asked Ichirou to bring that day's work for him, and Marco decided to tag along

Gianna's habit of overthinking things is something Marisa helps her get away from with her more "here-and-now" approach to life.

Given Kaspian's usually calm nature, she is ALWAYS shocked when his wyvern temper suddenly pops up, making him threaten to strangle someone with their intestines or something.

She actually used to question if he actually was a wyvern in the beginning due to his calmness, but then saw him absolutely demolish thugs harassing his baby brother, which made her realize that YES he is still a wyvern. (it was a scary sight)

Gianna's mermaid tail looks like a marlin tail, which explains her speed. Her hair also turns platinum blond in mermaid form.

Gianna met Marisa in the uni they both attend to, namely because Marisa accidentally blew up the wall of the designer's wing and was forced to repair it. Gianna found her quite funny and the two hit it off pretty quickly. Also she helped patch up Marisa's torn work clothing.

[arickaandherfictionalothers]

Aricka Jackson character profile

Full name: Aricka Coral Jackson

Meaning: Aricka- eternal ruler. Coral- the sentry.

Nicknames: Little Mermaid, Ariel, Sea-Princess, Kelp Queen, Bubbles

Birthday: October 18th, 1986

Birthplace: Manhattan, New York

Home: 3.141. Long Island, New York, Half Blood Hill, aka Camp Half Blood

Face claim: Grace Phipps

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Physical Appearance:

Eye color: turquoise-teal-periwinkle blue

Hair color: dark brown, almost black

Notable features: a scar on her left wrist from sparring with Luke, freckles sprayed across her cheeks and nose, other scars from future fights to be added as I write them in

Jewelry: a trident necklace that’s enchanted to become a full trident weapon (Hurricane), and two dagger earrings that become actual daggers for defense. (Ocean and Chosen One)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mannerisms:

Accent: Manhattan accent

Temperament: she’s a fairly laid back, easygoing person unless you threaten those she cares about most, then all bets are off, and she unleashes the wrath of the ocean on you

Speech style: hesitant, tends to stutter unless she’s confident about a particular topic, uses filler words (like, um; ah) when talking

Quirks: has a loud, contagious laugh, gesticulates a lot when talking, randomly bursts into song when she’s bored, orders the same food anytime she eats out at any restaurant, if she has food she shares with the people around her, bounces her leg if she’s sat for too long, either walks really slow or speed walks, is constantly pushing her sleeves up or down, tends to slouch.

Positive traits: affectionate, ambitious, centered, courageous, creative, diplomatic, empathetic, friendly, generous, gentle, happy, humble, imaginative, independent, introverted, kind, loyal, merciful, optimistic, passionate, playful, sentimental, supportive, talented, whimsical

Negative traits: compulsive, cynical, disorganized, fanatical, impulsive, nosy, overprotective, timid, verbose, workaholic

Fatal flaw: selflessness

Drives/motivations: to ensure the safety of those she loves most, to ensure all halfblood children are claimed by their rightful Olympian parent, and to settle down with Casper one day and have a whole houseful of kids

Talents: surfing, swimming, anything to do with the water/ocean, singing, writing

~~~~~~~~~~~

This or that

Private/public: she’s a very private person

Leader or follower: she’s the type of person to lead when lead to, or follow when she knows her strengths lie elsewhere

Daredevil/cautious: again it depends on the scenario. She is either cautious to a fault or a total daredevil.

Optimist/pessimist/realist: she’s a mix of all three; it depends what scenario she’s facing.

Speaker/listener: a mix of both; she knows when to speak and when to listen

Loud/quiet: she can be extremely loud or quiet as a mouse, there is no in between

Messy/organized: she’s hopelessly disorganized unless it’s her bunk you’re talking about

Solo/team player: more of a team player but has days where she needs to be alone

Introvert/extrovert: introvert all the way

Relaxed/serious: most of the time she’s a very relaxed laid back person but in a battle she’s all action

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Backstory:

Education: she’s been at camp since she was 12, and Percy was 5. She hasn’t had much public education but she’s learned from Chiron what she needs to know

First memory: Poseidon at her home, telling her he’s her dad, and that he will protect her as much as he is able to, and giving her a stuffed seahorse that she still has at her cabin.

Worst memory: the year Hera took Percy from her and he didn’t remember/know her

Best memory: it used to be when Casper kissed her for the first time but in the future it’s when he proposes

Most important childhood event: when Chiron took her to Camp when she was 12. That’s when she began her training and was given protection from the outside world, also when she got her weapons.

Most influenced by: her actions and the actions of those around her

Role models: her mom, her father Poseidon; her stepmother Amphitrite; her stepdad Paul, and her big stepsisters Kym and Beni

~~~~~~~~~~~

Family

Bio mom: Sally Jackson

Bio dad: Poseidon

Stepmom: Amphitrite

Stepdad: Paul

Bio sibling: Percy Jackson

Stepsister: Estelle

Love interest: Casper Manaia

Pets: not necessarily pets but she has a lemon shark friend named Torpedo and a leopard shark friend named Electro

Best friends: Lee Fletcher and Travis Stoll

@yeehawselfshipping @hyperionshipping @callsign-revenge @rosieshipper @letsgofoletsgo @tsundere-selfship

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Skypod (Kerm/M&W Oneshot)

Surprise! Guess who had another one in the wings? Pun intended, you’ll get it in a second, I promise. 

So this one is the mash up of Marks & Wings and Kermadec/vox delphini that no one asked for but made too much sense to pass up. A Christmas gift for @gumnut-logic. This is an AU of the AUs which fits in neither series but was fun regardless. Thanks to Tippy @godsliltippy for the M&W help, as this would be my first foray and I asked a lot of questions and I didn’t want to ask Nutty so I could surprise her. Any discrepancies are 100% on me though because two sets of lore is hella hard. 

She and I had a good brainstorming session for one more fun idea in the mashup verse, so let me know if that’s something you want. It wouldn’t be until next year though because I’ve learned NOT to give myself unnecessary deadlines.

Characters: Gordon Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Enki 

Words: 1.8

Genre: A bit of angst, a bit of whump, there’s a scary moment with a drift net

Also on Ao3 here if you prefer

Marks & Wings here

Kermadec here

Both highly recommended!!

*****

Skypod

Breathing was overrated.  

Gordon’s existence proved lungs weren't all they were cracked up to be, since there were times that he didn’t need them at all. Actually he preferred when he was able to swim underwater for more than a few minutes a dive, thank you very much. But in the case of situations where he might need to rely on the air balloons inside his chest, he’d trained his human form to endure seven minutes easily and up to eleven or twelve on a good day. 

It was the fragility of his human self that it could be only twelve, and one of the reasons he preferred spending time in his life aquatic.

Much preferred, especially when heaving with his lungs bursting out of his chest. 

His brothers' worry fluttered at the edge of his mind, and, granted, Virgil and John were not so used to him nearly drowning of all things, but the exhaustion had hit him deeply. Pacing himself had not been among his priorities during the last series of changes, when as a dolphin he'd been a bit preoccupied with the illegal driftnet reeling him in. Attempting to shimmy free only dug the ropes in further, so he changed into a species of wrasse small enough to wiggle through the net's holes, and then back to a dolphin for the purposes of chasing the moving motor boat. He realized the drift net easily expanded miles in length, and approaching the boat very likely could mean being captured again. With the dark of exhaustion at the edges of his eyes and the presences in the deep showing their curiosity towards him, he desperately needed to find land before he passed out in a fish form where lack of awareness could put him in serious danger, so it was with his human form he crawled ashore. 

In his anger, he’d managed to get quite far from the Island, over an argument he barely remembered anymore. Virgil had prioritized some enhancements to One over the ones needed for Four, and he couldn’t quote any of what Virgil had said at the time, but he remembered how he felt about it. Shifting had been an instinct, a deep desire to escape to the place he could never abandon from his heart, even if Virgil had shown where his loyalties were. 

It was less a choice and more a feeling, because his heart needed the speed. He imagined it was like his brothers lifting to chase the clouds with a directionless pull to the skies, except his tether was to the waves, and his flight was that of the aerial display towards the sun that returned him to the water. When Gordon needed to run, he swam, and the seascape between the Tonga-Kermadec arc was as much his home as Tracy Island itself. 

 It was the speed that doomed him; he hadn’t even noticed the net until it was too late. 

The fight that sparked his flight through the waves hardly seemed important now that he knew there was illegal fishing happening so close to his home, to the protected, tropical sanctuary many creatures called theirs. 

God, he needed to tell Mel. So close to Raoul, she was going to be beyond pissed. And Kayo needed to know; she’d want to run surveillance. Covertly, she might be able to discover the name of the boat, and then she and Lady P could take care of the bastards. 

“Dammit!” he shouted, though there was no one around to hear except just the gentle spray of the Pacific at his toes. His fist closed around a rock, its edges made smooth by the pressure of the deep and the roll of tides and the passage of time, and he used it to pull himself further up the beach where his limbs like jelly collapsed around him and his face pressed into the stone while he heaved and wept. The collection of slick rock he found himself on was barely a landmass, but it had been enough for him to climb out of the sea and catch the breath the net had tried to steal away. 

He shuddered, remembering the panic, the scratchy ropes of the net pulled taut around his rostrum, digging where his dorsal fin met the cetacean skin of his back. If he’d been anyone other than a shifter, the drag would’ve killed him, would’ve held him under with no hope for air. He’d avoided his human form for fear the change would dig the ropes in further, possibly around his neck considering he’d found himself entangled headfirst, as distracted as he was over Thunderbird Four.  He lamented the lack of his hands to untie himself free, but it was too high a risk. 

The ropes had loosened as his form shrank, barely to 15 centimeters of blue-lined scales, but still trapped within the tangle, he’d darted between its fibers deeper into the depths until he was free, crying for the porpoises and sea turtles and seabirds and all the life that had met an end ensnared. 

He’d been so lucky. Even now, he felt a twinge along the bridge of his nose where he’d been cut, and he swallowed iron. 

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” 

The connections he had to his brothers went wild. Though they could not share words; they understood each other’s emotions. Within himself he felt John’s presence in his mind, like the rumble of an undersea volcano, always present though with as much fire hidden deep below the surface. He felt Virgil too, who was like sea waves, buoyant and steady until the storm blew through.  Both of them snapped, and he felt his stomach roil at the flood of thought so soon after his physical body had been sent through whiplash of a type no one could truly understand. 

“I’m okay,” he tried to send through their bond, but of course, his words couldn’t reach them, and his racing heartbeat found them on his behalf. 

They would’ve felt it. As a mammal, his dolphin form would’ve been sending when he felt the spark of fear. They would’ve sensed their connection drop temporarily when he changed into the more reef-dwelling fish, a different form of biology, a different form of communication, and they would’ve been privy to his struggle to shore, his grief for the souls of his fellow life, his turbulent anger towards those who treated their corrupt business with more value than that of the good of their planet. 

Perhaps that was why he felt Virgil so strongly trying to connect with him across the distance with a pin on the direction, but not his location. He felt the warmth of his brother’s hug and the brush of his dark feathers, and Gordon knew his brother was coming. 

Virgil would always find him. 

It was like the spinning of a lighthouse beacon illuminated that he continued to receive concern from across the waves. 

Virgil, please, I really am ok. 

And then the pattern changed, not from his assurance, but with the presence of another. A softer concern, without the depth of the storm he felt from Virgil, but curious and confused. He’d never received anyone besides his brothers before, and the mind reached him as the gentle flicker of sunlight on the surface of the water. With brightness and reflection, but with a deep understanding of the sea he only felt within himself. 

Where? Who are you?

Gordon stumbled into a sitting position on the rocky shore, glancing out among the blue that surrounded him from all sides for the direction of the touch on his mind. 

The eyes that met his were cetacean. Familiar in that he now remembered the feeling of them as he raced to shore. This dolphin had seen him shift, and yet was not frightened. 

He remembered that very first shift when he was a young boy trying to save another. His heart had hammered with the rush of adrenaline, but it was also the sense of new, of the sea rushing past him in a way he could never dream, having his senses overturned with the vibrations of echolocation and a sharpness of sight below the waters.

The dolphin greeted him as he would another creature of the sea.

He received a flash of the boat.  

No! Don’t go near the boat. He wasn’t sure how much of the words his friend would understand.  But he at least could send the feeling of peril. 

Dangerous boat. 

The creature seemed confused by that, confused by the fact he felt Gordon so focused on the surface vehicle when he warned against it. 

There would be other ways, and he had no doubt Kayo would come through. They'd get the name. They just needed to do it before more lives were lost.

This was a rescue.  Please get away from here, away from it. 

Though exhausted, and knowing he had not the strength to shift, he still found himself in the water, sitting where the tide lapped at his waist. The dolphin edged closer, and Gordon saw in the distance a number of others, hovering further away. He felt a low hum of their chorus supporting the one. Supporting him, recognizing him as one with the heart of the sea.

But you’re ours. He felt it not in the words, but in vibrations as though plucked like a harp.

Ours. His breath hitched at the sensation of being among family.  Across his back, his mark sparked with the weight of it, and he felt it in every part of his being, through his sense of self while the echoes mapped him and the distant clicks and whistles welcomed him. 

“I’m okay, Enki,” he said aloud, their names exchanged in multiple forms of communication. “I have people coming for me.”

Skypod. Enki’s eyes glimmered in acknowledgement. 

And it wasn’t until the clouds dispersed into feathers as dark as night that Enki and the others crested over the horizon, away from the direction of the drift net, though he still felt their tug in his core, his mark tingling with the continuing reverb of the new connection. 

He couldn’t look away from them, even as Virgil swooped down from above, his boot nearly slipping on the wet rock in his urgency to land and find out what had happened. But he found his footing, and crouched down beside Gordon to hold him close. 

“What happened, Gordon?” Virgil searched his face, wiping blood and tears away from his cheeks.  

He heard his name from Virgil’s voice merge with the one he’d been given by those of the sea, a whistle that reminded him of the rays of the sun. 

“I think I just got adopted by dolphins,” he answered breathlessly, reaching his heart to the sky and sea where it belonged to both. Thank you. 

[craftingcreatures]

You can also use these principles to determine the ecology of other fish species just by looking at them! Let's apply what we've learned to some more species:

Alligator Gar (Atractosteus spatula)

Notice that, once again, the tail is rounded and the dorsal and anal fins are placed posteriorly on the body. This is a heck of a lot like the arowana, and might indicate that the gar is also a slow-moving ambush predator - which it is! The reason the dorsal and anal fins are placed so far back on the body in ambush-hunting fish is because this placement allows them to work in tandem with the tail fin to provide a massive but short-lived burst of speed. When the dorsal and anal fins are positioned toward the middle of the body, the motion of the tail does not affect them as much and so they tend to act more as stabilizers and do not contribute to propulsion (though see the Tetraodontiformes for a very weird and cool exception).

Notice that, while the head is again long and flat, the mouth is not nearly so upturned as in the arowana but instead is positioned to face forward. This suggests that, while the gar can hunt at the surface, it's more at home looking for prey in the midwater. In Ichthyology, this kind of mouth is called a terminal mouth (as opposed to the arowana, which has a superior mouth. To complete the trifecta, many bottom-dwelling fish like catfish have inferior mouths that point downward.) Alligator gar do use suction feeding, but they also rely on lateral snapping to capture prey. In this feeding style, the fish explosively swipes its flat, thin, toothy mouth to the side and ensnares the target in its teeth. Lateral snappers tend to be slow-moving predators of much smaller, faster, schooling fish. This feeding style is also used by needlefish, which have a similar jaw structure to gars, and even the Gharial!

Also notice that the gar and the arowana both have long, smooth, roughly cylindrical bodies with a pointed head (though it's less pronounced in the arowana, which has a more flattened body). In Ichthyology, this body type is called sagittiform and is - quelle surprise! - also associated with sit-and-wait ambush predators that rely on quick bursts of speed! Other fish which display this body type include pikes and barracuda, both of which are (wait for it) ambush predators.

Let's look at a different kind of fish now:

Foureye Butterflyfish (Chaetodon capistratus)

Again, let's look at the shape of the fins and body and size and position of the mouth to figure out how this fish does its thing.

The tail fin is, again, rounded. This is not a fish that habitually swims at high speeds. Fish that regularly swim fast usually have emarginate, forked, or lunate tails.

The body is very flat side-to-side, giving this fish a compressiform body shape. This shape is excellent for fish which need to be agile, since it allows them to make very tight turns in a very narrow space, and is often seen in fish which inhabit very complex environments, like coral reefs or beds of aquatic vegetation. Compressiform fish tend to be prone to tipping over while swimming; to combat this, many such fish have long and large dorsal and anal fins that act as both stabilizers and rudders. Other fish with a compressiform body plan include angelfish, surgeonfish, and freshwater sunfish. This particular species lives in the nooks and crannies of Caribbean coral reefs.

The mouth is small, and terminally positioned. This fish is not likely to be eating other fish or other large organisms - they just wouldn't fit. Instead, it's likely to eat small prey, like plankton, algae, or small crustaceans, which it collects from directly in front of it rather than above or below. You can't tell by looking at them, but most butterflyfish are actually specialist predators of coral polyps - they have comb-like teeth which they use to scrape away the soft, gelatinous flesh away from the underlying stone!

Lastly, I know it's not technically part of the "body shape" but I want to talk briefly about colouration. The first thing we notice is the bold black spot at the base of the caudal fin. This is an eyespot, and is often seen in fish which are vulnerable to predation (as well as many other animals). It's intended to distract the predator into attacking the relatively unimportant tail and leaving the head and vital organs alone. Notice also that the stripe across the face continues onto the eyeball and obscures the pupil - this serves the same purpose, obscuring the eye and deflecting attention away from the head!

So, to summarize, the alligator gar, like the Asian arowana, is a slow-moving ambush predator which relies on bursts of speed to capture fast prey; it tends to feed on prey items directly in front of it, which it catches with quick lateral snapping of the jaws. The foureye butterflyfish, by contrast, is a slow but very agile fish which lives in a very complex underwater habitat; it eats small, inoffensive food items and has to deal with the threat of larger predators, which it uses its artificial eyespot to confuse and escape from. We can determine all of this just by looking at them. This kind of deduction is instrumental in predicting the lifestyles of fish which we can't observe in their natural habitat. Using these techniques we can figure out the ecology of deep-sea fish that have only ever been documented as mangled specimens caught in trawling nets, rare or secretive species that have never been seen by divers, or of fossil fish whose lives and livelihoods are lost to time. It's incredible that we can learn so much about a fish just from what it looks like.

The body shape of a fish can tell you a lot about it! It can tell you where they like to hang out, how they hunt, what they eat, and more!

Let's use the Asian Arowana (Scleropages formosus) as an example!

Based off the rounded caudal fin (the "tail"), this fish is not a very fast swimmer

Having the dorsal fin and anal fin right near the end of the fish's body suggests it is an ambush predator

The flat head suggests it hunts at the surface

The upturned, large mouth suggests it catches its prey from below

Arowana are ambush predators that hunt at the surface!

They don't need to go very far very fast, hence the rounded caudal fin (which is the slowest moving fin)

Having posterior dorsal and anal fins are a common trait amongst ambush predator

They primarily hunt at the surface! They will sit near the surface and grab small fish, bugs, crustaceans, and even occasionally a bird!

4. Fish that catch their prey from below sometimes do it via suction. They'll open their large mouth, and as the water gets sucked in, so does anything in the water. And the larger the mouth, more water will more quickly fill into the mouth, catching larger and faster prey

[mia-tiny]

『 Seonghwa & Honeymoon Hot Tub Sex 』 | KTB ‘22

⇒ pairing: p. seonghwa x fem!reader

⇒ smut, fluff, hot tub sex, unprotected sex

⇒ word count: 821

💕 view my masterlist here

🖤 view my Kinktober ‘22 masterlist here

You exhale in absolute contentment as the hot tub’s jet streams make the warm water bubble around you. You sink down further until the water comes up to your neck, the heat making you instantly relax from the exhausting day of travel. It was a long journey to get here, but you are finally in the Maldives on the honeymoon of your dreams with the man of your dreams.

Speaking of the devil, your just-turned husband Seonghwa comes strolling out of the private luxury villa with a bottle of expensive champagne and two glasses in his hands. He carefully pours drinks for you both before sitting down next to you and wrapping his free arm around your shoulders to pull you close.

“I can’t believe I’m so lucky to have married you,” he says with a genuine smile and stars in his eyes. “Cheers to the rest of our lives together.”

He clinks his glass against yours when you blush and you both take a sip. The rich taste makes you close your eyes and hum in satisfaction. This moment could not be any more perfect if you tried. When you look again at Seonghwa, your heart swells with happiness and love to the point that you fear it might burst.

Seonghwa, seeing the jubilant expression on your face, chuckles and asks, “What is that look for?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his obliviousness as you simply answer his question by leaning in to give him a lingering kiss. Of course, he doesn’t contest as he reciprocates the action. He removes his one arm from around your shoulders and instead wraps it around your waist, pulling you over to straddle him. Since you are staying in a secluded villa, you both opted to swim without clothes on, leaving your pussy pressed against his hardening dick.

Staring at you with his hungry and lustful expression, he slowly sets his glass down next to the champagne bottle before reaching for yours and doing the same. With your hands free, you place them on the sides of his face, softly caressing his cheek as you take time to engrave this moment in your memory forever: how beautiful he looks, how unconditionally you love him, how perfect his body feels pressed against yours. He gazes at you as if you are his entire world and you want nothing more than to be as close to him as possible for the rest of your life.

Seonghwa brings you back to the present moment when he leans back in to kiss you passionately, his hands moving to grip your ass. He grinds you against his cock for more friction, the sensation also stimulating your clit with each roll of your hips. The two of you move languidly, feeling no rush in expressing just how much you love and need each other.

Seonghwa’s mouth begins moving down your body as he lays kisses across your jawline, neck, collarbones, and ends up sucking on one of your nipples as he gropes the other with his hand. The feeling has you throwing your head back and thirsting for more.

You reach underwater to where his hard dick is and line the tip up with your entrance, sinking down on him immediately. The fullness of him inside you already has you on cloud nine and a satisfied groan escapes his mouth. You waste no time in starting to ride him, the pace automatically a bit slower because of the water resistance, but it is enough to have both of you moaning.

He detaches his lips from your chest and sits up to rest his forehead against yours, the two of you staring intensely into each other’s eyes as you both get lost in the pleasure. The way Seonghwa bites his lip has you reeling and you can’t help but lean in to kiss and bite hickeys into his neck. He lets out an erotic moan and grips your waist to help speed up your movements. 

You can feel your orgasm building rapidly and reach down to play with your clit in order to get you there. Seonghwa curses under his breath as you clench around him, his own high not far off either. You reconnect your lips with his and kiss lovingly through pants and moans of euphoria.

It only takes a few seconds more before you are cumming, Seonghwa’s climax immediately being triggered by yours. You continue to ride out your highs before finally stilling with him still inside you. You rest your forehead on his shoulder as you both catch your breath, your bodies still connected while you come to your senses. When your husband starts pecking gentle kisses on your shoulder, you sit up straight again and place one last tender kiss on his lips.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” you admit shyly. “Well believe it,” he chuckles. “Because I’m yours. And you’re mine. Always.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist: @minkysmilk @annaflwrs @han8ul @whatudowhennooneseesyou

[ripperdoc-is-daddy]

Little Fish Pt. 1

Reader is a Beautiful Siren who gets in over her head with the Mysterious and Ominous Danger that lurks beneath darker waters.

PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED IT!

TW: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! READER IS BLACK FEMALE, Leviathans, Sirens, Reader has short hair, FISH PEOPLE, Frolicking, Shark anatomy, Bony Fish anatomy, Explanations of Aquatic life behaviors, Food mentions, They eat fucking fish, Pod Dynamics (Not Omegaverse), Crude Humor, Sexual Content, Suggestive Content, Ocean references, LOTS OF OCEAN TALK, Violence, Domineering, Power plays, Will get graphic, mentions of murking, I spent too much time looking at vids on fish, CONSENTUAL ETHICAL POLYAMOUROUS RELATIONSHIP, It's the ciiiiiiircle of liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife. Soft/Hard Boi Sanemi, Kyojuro is a fucking menace, Tengen is Tengen, TENGEN'S WIVES ARE PRESENT AND HE LOVES THEM! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! PERMISSION TO REPOST OR TRANSLATE DENIED!

Pt 2 , Pt. 3 , Pt. 4

You swam about in the ocean. Your pod had migrated to warmer, more tropical waters to switch up hunting grounds. Swimming in-between your similarly aged pod mates, you issued a silent challenge to go into a race to the sea shelf. There were two males with extremely light, white-looking hair and striking purple eyes who took you up and torpedoed in the water towards your target. The three of you were neck and neck. The largest male had an extraordinarily well-built, lightly tanned, defined upper torso. His silver and purple bi-colored body resembled that of a whiptail thresher in the pattern. It ended with long sharp homocercal fins. The edges had tiny serrated barbs running up his dorsal and anterior body. His pelvic and pectoral fins were knifed much like a shark’s would be. His body was built for speed and agility. Short bursts of high-velocity action were his forte. Often, he would be part of the ambush party. 

The other male who dwarfed you in size was built stockier than you and the first. His caudal, pectoral, and pelvic fins were smaller in size. His green and white patterning resembled that of a juvenile tiger shark. The upper torso was more tanned than the larger male. His tail coloration was a murky Phthalo, hunter, and forest green with silver streaking across his body randomly. He could swim longer distances at a sustained pace, putting him in the stalking party when larger prey was found. His hair was whiter than silver like your other companion. His body was littered with scars, giving him a fearsome look. It didn’t help that, like now, when he smiled, he looked exceptionally unhinged. 

The two were your best friends, even if they had hatched several seasons before. The three of you just vibed that way. Darting between each other, the most prominent in size male pushed forward using his massive tail to disrupt the water in front of you, throwing you off your course slightly. You spun in the water but quickly fanned out your fins, allowing you to do a badass slow-motion barrel roll in the water. Righting yourself before propelling your body forward. 

You had dark sienna skin with close-cropped hair. Not wanting to deal with getting your hair caught in coral or anything else that floated around. You were of average built but had a buxom chest. Plump full lips and deep, dark brown eyes. Your fins were some of the most gorgeous in your entire pod. Purples, black, and gold resembling a lionfish. Too many shades of purple littered your scales with a speckling of gold and black dotting up your belly, giving the appearance of lights. You had feathertail-styled fins, which, when fanned, made for an impressive or intimidating display. All depending on what you were needed to do. Your position in the pod was to herd prey that you found into the ambushers. On occasion, you were used for the intimidation factor because of how massive you looked when on full display. 

The green-finned male darted up from underneath you, trying to knock you off course. You expertly evaded his attack, pushing forward with more vigorous thrusts as you were determined to overtake the silver and purple mer in front of you. Unfortunately, he proved to be the strongest, crossing the shelf and posturing in the open waters. His pose could only be described as overly flashy and highly flamboyant. You crossed second with the last member of your trio, bringing up the rear looking non-plussed. You slowed down behind the winner, reached out, and grabbed the ribbon he used to keep his hair up in a ponytail, yanking it and darting down towards the darker, denser waters beneath the overhang of the sea shelf. 

“Give that back!” He yelled at you. Gills on his neck flaring. You feign ignorance as the third member of your group cackled. “Shut up, Sanemi,” the first male barks out. “Make me, Tengen.” Sanemi dared him. The two begin to circle each other in a predatory fashion. You knew a challenge to dominance when you saw one. Rolling your eyes, you sighed, turning your body to face the darkness beneath you. “Guys, guys, behave. It’s not that serious.” The two men turned to glare at you. “Stay away from there!” your green friend warned. “That’s not our domain. You’d be eaten up, and our pod would miss its second most attractive member.” He stated matter-of-factly. 

“Uhuh, sure, Tengen.” You dismiss them and swim closer. Curious about the differences in the weight of the water. The water felt much cooler here and heavier. An unusual combination you have never encountered before. Above you, the two mers circled, watching you while trying to show off who was the better specimen to each other. A mock show of superiority. Ignoring their antics, you got close enough to touch the stark line of demarcation. That separated the boundary between the true deep sea and where you dwelt. 

You reached out to touch but stopped seeing something red moving about. It peaked in and out. Never appearing in the same spot twice, but it was captivating. Soon the red was joined by fluffy warm yellow tufts of hair. You realized you were looking at someone or something’s hair. You halted your swimming, entranced. Vaguely you registered that you needed to back up. A chill crept up your spine that warned you danger was nearby. Still, you could not break away from watching the hypnotic effect the waving tufts had on you. 

Closer you inched. Not touching the line. Keeping to your side of the ocean but feeling the dual pull to retreat to safety and to go forward eating away at you. You almost gave in to the urge to go forward when you felt yourself jerked back up harshly, painfully, and quickly. Tengen and Sanemi Grab your arms, digging their stilettoed nails into your flesh. You yelped, startled while they swore in such an amount you would have complained had you not been stupefied by the most beautiful pair of scarlet and goldenrod eyes. They held you to such an extent you momentarily forgot to pull water in with your gills and breathe. It was only when you saw the reddened claws that came to the nail bed of a brandy-toned arm connected to an immensely muscled forearm did you realize what had almost transpired and sucked in water. Thus, replenishing your oxygen. The eyes glared at you with pure malice, then disappeared into the darkness along with the hand that had almost dragged you to your no doubt demise. 

The two men didn’t stop swimming with you till you were halfway back to your pod. They released you and swam in front, worriedly biting their lips as they looked you over. You blinked a few times, getting your sense back. The weight of the situation settling into your gut. The moment your eyes met Sanemi’s, he exploded in a rage. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT! YOU ALMOST DIED, DUMBASS! WE TOLD YOU NOT TO GO THERE AND WHAT DO YOU DO!? THE EXACT OPPOSITE!” He swam aggressively towards you, warningly prompting you to flare out some of your fins. He ignored it and got close enough to poke you in the chest accusingly. “Do you have a death wish?” he bit out. Anger radiated out from him in thick waves. You puffed up defensively, not wanting to admit you had majorly fucked up just now. Tengen watched the other, light-haired male rant at you. Steadily watching you deflate in silent acknowledgment of dangerous your slip up. 

Once you looked like a limp noodle, he swam over and separated the two of you. “Alright, alright, I think she gets it now. You can stop beating her. We got her to safety, and now she owes us a life debt. I’d say it all worked out.” He attempts to raise the mood. Sami’s eyes narrow at you, and he rudely swims passed you. Hissing and swearing. You rub the back of your neck and slowly turn to follow him. You feel a warm arm pull you up into stiff, thick pectorals. Flipping yourself over, you bury your face in them as Tengen swims forward, holding you. Humming silently and he rubs the little hair you have with affection. 

“He’ll come around.” The man holding you assures you as the sounds of your families can be heard off in the distance. “He’s still an asshole.” you lamented lamely. Trying to hide your bruised ego. Tengen growls before he speaks. “He was in a fantastic mood until you decided to be a complete and utter idiot and do the one thing we are warned not to do from hatch day onwards.” You groan loudly and speak in sync with him. “Never go past the sea meridian.” He huffs and glares at you. Not releasing you as he swims in between the members of your pod. 

As the pair of you swim amongst the others, you peek out from around his bicep. Some say hi while others stare in shock. The two of you made a striking pair, and how he held you protectively was sure to start rumors about your relationship. You rebury your face in his chest, not wanting to deal with the drama that would be you becoming the fourth mate of one Uzui Tengen. You braced your arms against his taunt abdominals and pushed off. “I’m gonna go find Sanemi and apologize,” you say dumbly. Trying to get away from prying eyes. “Or you could just agree to swim with me, and the ladies and Sanemi can come to pick you up later.” He eyes you mischievously. “Tempting, but I am gonna have to pass. I feel like that would get me in even more trouble.” you dart out of his grasp as he reaches for you.

“Tell that ass I said hi, and we are responsible for tomorrow’s hunting party,” Tengen calls out after you. You wave an affirmation with your hand as you head off to search for your ill-tempered companion. Starting your search along the more predictable reef crevasses. When he could not be found hiding among the anemones, you started probing in the eel caves. Still coming up empty. You grabbed a few eels and bonked them unconscious, taking them with you as you searched for your friend. What’s an apology without food, right? If you come across someone, you would ask if they had seen Sanemi, and for the most part, you were told no. Eventually, you started swimming towards the cove the younger members used to play in. Hoping to find him with his brother Genya. 

Thankfully you did. The two were both lying on the beach. Basking in the fading sunlight. You breached the water slowly and carefully, took aim, and tossed two eels at them. Smacking each guy in their gut with a 10lb fish. They oof’d and looked up at you with malicious intent. “See! I brought dinner.” You cheerfully countered. The smaller, similarly colored male mer beside him groaned at your antics, took the ill, hauled himself into the water, and swam off. Offering you a half-asses “Thank you” as he swam off. You crept through the water till you reached the shoreline and the tip of the remaining, still angry man’s tail. 

“So, something tells me that bringing you dinner isn’t gonna make up for today,” you say bashfully. Knowing your error and finally owning up to it. “No,” Sanemi replies monotone. You look up at him pleadingly. “Please.” You whine in your most pathetic voice. “I’m sorry. These fluffy red and yellow tufts were floating in my face, and I couldn’t stop looking.” You rambled. He stared at you, then closed his eyes in a sigh. “That explains why you ignored our shouting. From where we were at, we saw a red and gold leviathan tail. That’s why we grabbed you like we did and hauled ass.” the concern evident in his words. “We’ll be safe here, but we definitely need to be more careful along the shelf. Those types don’t cross into our waters often, but if that thing was that close, it could mean we need to move along and find new grounds to stay at for the rest of the year. “

You crawled up the beach, flopping down on top of him and running your fingers gently over his deep green-colored scales. “That,” you began, “sounds terrifying. As you both were pulling me away, I saw the most beautiful and amazing...” you trailed off, watching Sanemi’s eyes get darker as you complimented the man who had most definitely tried to kill you. 

Since you had hatched, you had always been taught about the three classes of merfolk. There were the dainty and waif-like mermaids that stayed in cold waters. Sirens like yourself and your pod stuck to warm waters and occasionally migrated to keep from depleting y’alls share of ocean fish. Then there were the Leviathans. Named for their extreme size and lengths. They were large, carnivorous, and capable of surviving in the true deep and at the surface level. Encounters with them were few and far between but often held fatalities.  

You nuzzled into Sanemi’s abs as you thought about the horror stories you had heard about Leviathans and how close your premature end had come. Your thoughts were broken, however, when your living pillow shoved some eel bites into your mouth. You chewed compliantly and opened your mouth for more after you swallowed. He rolled his eyes at you but continued to feed you. Once finished, you did the same for him until nothing was left to eat. 

Rolling over onto the sand, you squealed happily, stomach-sated and somewhat positive that your friends were no longer mad enough to attempt to drown you while you slept. “You guys can brag and say you survived a Leviathan now,” you said like the gremlin menace you were inside. Sanemi hummed happily as he pondered this new information. “SHIT! Tengen is going to take all the credit!” He exclaimed, turning himself over and pulling towards the sea. “Come on! He is going to take you out to be even more pathetic than you actually are, and I’m going to sound like a damsel in distress if we let him tell the story.” He complained loudly. You waved him off with one of your dark hands. “I’ll leave that to you boys. I don’t want to see people’s reactions to The-woman-who-almost-wasn’t.” you lamented.

Sanemi shrugged, winked at you then dove beneath the surface. Off to claim his bit of glory. Probably to make you look even dumber than you had been. In your defense, the other men had a pretty good lure if he looked like that. You were used to Mermaids looking gaudy, but this was different. The power that radiated from the eyes you saw had promised you a dark end. Thinking about them chilled you to the bone but also sent a more confusing tingle down your spine. You forcefully pushed the thoughts out of your mind and instead focused on absorbing the remaining warmth in the black sand. 

You woke up, and it was much darker. Not realizing you had fallen asleep, you stretch out and slowly return to the much more tepid waters. Whimpering as it stung your skin and scales initially with the temperature change. After a few seconds, your body adapted, and you began to swim back to your pod. It was late enough that almost everyone except for a few night fish would be asleep. 

You decided to dick around for a bit before returning and swam around the outskirts of the reef y’all would be occupying and caring for over the next 6 months minimum. It was lush with life and color, even at this hour. Fish darted to and fro in all sorts of varieties and combinations. Different types of sea life clung to rocks, each other, and other bits n bobs. You picked up a few pieces of coral, admiring their beauty. Seeding them into holes so that the reef could grow and expand. 

Time was again lost to you as you immersed yourself in your task. You had just finished setting a pretty piece of red coral into a new crevice when you noticed a distinct lack of fish in the area. In fact, there was a distinct lack of any life moving around you. Something that alarmed you greatly. Your eyes begin to search around you for the perceived threat. If it was a shark or two, you could easily handle that on your own. Anything more significant and you would need help. 

Off in the distance, you saw something flitting about. Winding and weaving with no rhyme or reason. Your head tilted in curiosity, danger sense still telling you to be wary. You kept your position as you watched the gold thing flit about. You could see bright red as it got closer, and the truth dawned on you. Quickly you darted into a crack in the reef that was just big enough for you. Apologizing to the denizens, you squeezed as far back into it as possible. Slowing your movements and water intake to cause as few vibrations in the water as possible.

It seemed like an eternity before you dared to move your head towards the doorway. Scared of what you would see. A hesitant glance revealed absolutely nothing. A few fish swam by hurriedly, and you sighed and deflated. Tension rolling off your body. Your mind was clearly fucking with you if it had you thinking a Leviathan would leave its territory and swim a decent number of kilometers away from the deep waters to where your group was. You chuckled to yourself, leaned back, and floated against some smooth coral. Closing your eyes in relief. 

When you opened them, you stared straight into those hypnotizing orbs you had seen earlier. Only this time, there was a full face to accompany them. Brandy-colored skin, full lips drawn back into an unhinged smile, and a beautiful face framed by a maned of blond and red hair. You couldn’t see much passed his mane except for deep sanguine scales streaked with gold as some of his lower body was visible. You couldn’t see anything passed his neck either. He was hanging onto the roof and leaning over to look at you. 

You knew it was a he from the deep chuckle that vibrated the water around it. He stayed staring at you, unblinking. You held his stare, also not blinking. Worried that if you did, that would be the end. A good, solid minute passed, and you whined. “Can you blink or something so I can blink? This is getting awkward.” The creature before you looks at you curiously and complies. You quickly blink several times and rub your eyes. “Aye, how do you hold your eyes open like that? It’s creepy.” You question him. 

His smile drops, and he stares at you with the most unimpressed face you have ever seen. You defensively ask him a quick “What!?” and wait for a response. When none is given, you huff and blow out irritated bubbles. “I should kill you.” a deep voice drawls out. Not as deep as your pod’s defensive commander, Gyomei. You’re brought out of your comparison of “who has the best voice” as your brain once again slowly registers the statement. “You could, but that wouldn’t be fun now, would it?” you respond with as much faked joy as you could manage. What you were not going to do was let on how terrified you were of something that could end you without effort. 

“It’s not about fun.” He responds bored sounding. “Dude, what the fuck!? Life should be fun. If you just end me, then your life will once again be boring and full of whatever it is you do over there on the dark side.” you supplied, hoping your bullshit was working. “I hunt, I sleep. Why should I focus on fun?” He casually inquires, pulling himself down into the cave. You could now see his muscular upper body. He was similarly built to Sanemi. Tengen still made both look scrawny. You made your appraisal obvious to go along with your ruse and also because you were shameless, and if this was the end, then you were going out being a bold, badass bitch. Not a chicken wuss. 

“I mean, if you never had fun, I can see why you would say that. But like, I’m here now. I can teach you all about fun, and you can leave me the fuck alone.” You did your best to look irritated, turning your head down and away from him. Your heart thundering in your chest, hoping the display of submissive indifference would work. The massive male in front of you laughed loudly. “What an interesting meal you are.” Your head snapped up as you felt his warmth around you. He was close enough that your noses brushed, and you gasped. Instinct taking over you, “Meeped” and struck him with the heel of your palm upwards. Gasping at your actions as you realized what you had done. 

Blood floated in the waters between you, originating from his nose. He stared at you, and you stared back. He was very unimpressed at this point, and it showed. The gills on his neck slowly flattened themselves, and you realized that he was moving in for the end. Throwing caution to the wind, you slapped him will all your might. “Look bitch, if you don’t get up outta my face, I promise you that you will have found the right one today!” That got a reaction out of him. His eyes widened, and he leaned away from you. Shock evident.

You flared up as much as possible in the cramped space and bared your teeth at him. A hand shot out at you and grabbed your jaw. Defiantly you raised your chin and shook yourself out of his grasp. “Bitch I told you,” you started but stopped when you saw him smile. You didn’t know what kind of smile, nor did you care. The only thing that mattered was that the monster of your nightmares, the literal only thing in the ocean you had to truly fear, was smiling at you menacingly. “You live today, little fish.” He said as he stroked your cheek gently with the hand that had grabbed you earlier. 

The Leviathan, before you released, you pulled out of the crevice. Looking at you once more with those predatory eyes, he pushed off and disappeared out of your sight. You waited a few minutes before you slowly peered out. Looking around and seeing no sign of him, you bolted back to your pod’s haven. Wanting the safety and comfort of your friends.

[magpie-to-the-morning]

Insatiable - Part One

Moodboard by @acrossthesestars

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x Frankie Morales x OFC

Word count: >1k

Tags: Wolf shifter AU, Supernatural AU, Slow burn, Mating bond, Canon typical sex and violence, Attempted kidnapping, Blood, Injury

Summary: You’ve travelled the world looking for home, but what if it finds you?

Author’s Note: I’m going to start off releasing this in shorter, relaxed fit installments. This odd and self-indulgent story wouldn’t exist without my “pack” of fiercely loving friends, @keeper0fthestars , @acrossthesestars , and @the-chocolate-bunny . Love you guys.

There’s something magical about Cartago at dusk- the way the setting sun sets the clouds on fire, setting off the jumbled mix of architecture, the bustling crowds, the tempting aroma of street food, and the occasional flashing dart of a hummingbird. Even in the busy market district, the little birds find something to feed on, their shimmering, jewel toned feathers adding to the riotous colors all around you. You’re watching them, charmed away from your self-set task of sampling from as many food trucks as possible (the work of a travel blogger is never done), when something at the edge of your vision tugs at you.

Across the street, a young girl, silent and wide-eyed, is pulling away from the man with a firm grasp on her wrist. It’s her silence that bothers you. This is no temper tantrum, no tired child resisting going home at the end of a long day. Your eyes scan the crowd, hoping someone will intercede- a watchful mother, an older sibling or friend, but no one seems to be with the girl and the man is dragging her closer to a nearby taxi.

Shit.

You dart through traffic, narrowly avoiding the rumbling passage of a delivery truck, your eyes locked on the man, already memorizing his appearance in case you need to ID him later. He’s older than you, though not by much- late thirties, maybe, his thinning hair and broad gut giving him the appearance of someone older. His shirt is rumpled and sweat-stained and even before you’re in front of him, the stale smell of cheap cigars has you nearly gagging.

“Hey kid, you ok? ¿Estás bien?”

Seemingly startled out of her frozen, unnatural quiet, the girl shakes her head frantically and unleashes a torrent of Spanish that goes far beyond your own pathetic guidebook lingo- though that hardly matters.

Drawing yourself up to your full height, you glare at the taxi driver. “I don’t think she wants to go with you.”

He spits at your feet and attempts to shove past you without so much as a word.

He doesn’t.

With an irritated scowl, he shoves you hard, your tailbone barking as it collides with his taxi. In the confusion, his grip on the girl’s wrist loosens and she slips away from him. Robbed of his quarry, the man rounds on you, fury flushing his pale, sweaty face. He backhands you, hard.

You fall to your knees, the odd perspective granting you a glimpse of the girl pelting down the street at full speed. When the man turns to give chase, you grab onto his pant leg. “Leave her alone.” Cursing, he kicks out at you, his boot connecting with your hand, the side of your head. It’s this blow that sends you reeling. There’s a bright flash of pain and then everything slows, coming to you in muddled bits and pieces.

Your grip falling slack.

The crowd parting as two unfamiliar men burst onto the scene.

The cab driver landing one more kick to your skull, the blow rattling your teeth, before forcing his way through bystanders to charge for a nearby alley.

Warm, coppery blood oozing down your face.

Two forms, one already kneeling, the other backing away.

“Fish, check on her. I’ll go.”

A roughly gentle palm cradling your cheek and a pair of concerned brown eyes. “Hey, you ok?”

You giggle weakly, your vision swimming. “You don’t look like a fish.”

It’s the last thing you remember before everything goes black.

Part Two

[caffernnn]

Some makoto analysis to cope with whatever it is that happened in fs2

Remember during the baton relay during the club recruitment in s2? Haru was running on his top speed because of course he was supposed to give it his all to gain more members. But he was incredibly slow and lagged way behind all the other clubs. Until makoto picked the baton (the kickboard) and managed to cover the time and distance haru lost, bringing up their rank to third, until nagisa lost the momentum which was picked back up by rei. Which means canonically makoto is way faster than haru on top sprinting speed. And if say, let's assume haru is almost on par with rin on their sprint on land, then makoto is also faster than rin. And if, say, assuming rin is also on par with both sousuke and ikuya, as seen with some of their instances of asserting dominance through a sprinting/running race, then makoto's superiority on running speed extends to sousuke and ikuya. Look, all I'm aaying is that theoretically, makoto is faster and better on land than haru, rin, sousuke, and ikuya. Makoto is probably the best on land after rei (and kisumi maybe) and on top running speed (disregarding the long run because apparently makoto has weaker stamina), the top athletes of the Japanese swim team will lose to makoto on land by a mile.

I rest my case 😌

Of course he’s a speedy guy; how else would he get anywhere, since driving is out of the question—

Jokes aside, I love that Makoto is built for speed and power, can push super hard in short bursts when he wants/needs to, but there are so many times where he chooses leisurely paces, chooses patience. He’s capable of zooming forward but revels in what slowing down allows him. It’s evident in how well he works with kids, how he understands Haru like nobody else, how he finds ways to support his friends over and over again… and I’m totally not thinking about his whole speech in the novelization savoring cake wdym

Idk, it’s just so cool to get glimpses of Makoto’s potential strengths versus how he wields them. Like, we’ve already talked about how Makoto had/has enough physical prowess that if he really wanted to try his hand at competing past high school, he could’ve fought for it and found a way. However, his heart lies in what good he can do supporting others. He believes his true strength is in helping others slow down with him, really considering their dreams/goals and coming up with the steps to get them where they want to be.

Does he necessarily know how fast or skilled he is in other areas? It’s debatable; we could have a whole other conversation about how Makoto often represses hard introspection or possibly has some level of imposter syndrome. However, I think one of the fun things to focus on moving forward with Makoto is not in the ways he’s driven by fear, but the ways he’s driven by affection and care, if that makes sense. It’s a great way to see his personal growth and watch Makoto become more sturdy in his convictions — choosing Tokyo and becoming a trainer because he can see his own strengths; his feeling of “they’re going to leave me behind, will I be able to chase/reach them” getting soothed over time in knowing they’ll find their way back to each other. Fun stuff!!!

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 7

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 5.4k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, a lot of emotional turmoil, talk of pregnancy scares (birth control, contraceptives, etc.), implied discrimination towards sex workers (not by any of the boys dw), mentions of sexual acts

slowly hands you a cake that says "I haven't updated this fic in 14 months and I don't know when the next part is coming but here's an update thanks for being patient" in comic sans

-------

The rush to the hospital goes by in a blur of tears and shouting and panic and questions that you can't bring yourself to answer. The only constant is Min Yoongi's hand, firmly locked in your own throughout the ordeal, tethering you to reality.

You now sit in a private room on a sterile medical table and wait to be seen, too numb inside to feel the sting of the cold metal as it cuts into the backs of your thighs. Yoongi stands beside you, still holding your hand, his fingers are laced through yours and squeezing as if it could sap away the fear that eats away your insides, leaving you hollow and empty.

"It'll be alright. Don't worry about a damn thing, okay?" He shifts his weight anxiously, betraying his own underlying worries.

You barely remember him throwing his jacket over you before being rushed out of the house, and you don't feel deserving of the modest coverage. Though the leather is worn and soft against your skin, all you can feel is the harsh metallic zipper, scratching at your chest as though reminding you of your wrongdoings.

"Yoongi…" you start to say, but he cuts you off, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Don't you fucking dare. Don't apologize."

You feel tears well up in your eyes. Your chest grows tight with the words he's forbidden you to say.

"I've already called Namjoon, it'll all be fine. Don't worry." He works his jaw and rubs your hand with surprising tenderness, glancing to the little window in the door every other second.

He's been assuring you with those same words for the past half hour, but it feels like it's been an eternity. As you glance at the clock on the wall, watching the hands tick by, you imagine a scene like that of a health documentary. Tiny sperm, swimming up your insides… fertilizing your previously dormant eggs.

Fuck. You've fucked up.

You might be pregnant with Min Yoongi's child. Your Opticon birth control implant could send you into toxic shock at any moment.

You don't see how things can get much worse than this.

The door finally opens, and what appears to be a nurse steps inside. She holds a clipboard, and examines it while she lets the door close behind her. "Let's see now, Miss..." Her shoulders slump marginally as her eyes reach your name. "Oh, right. The PhysCom."

You don't have the energy to ignore the change in her tone from friendly to disinterested, and simply nod. However, you feel Yoongi stiffen beside you.

The nurse lets out a brief sigh and dons a professional expression. "So, what appears to be the problem?" She directs the question to Yoongi.

"We think her birth control implant isn't working." Yoongi explains, his eyes darting furtively between you and the nurse. "She, um… she reached orgasm."

You flush at the memory, ashamed of your failure to adhere to even the most basic of rules set before you.

The nurse makes a noncommittal noise and jots something down. "Says here it’s an Opticon. And you didn't turn it off, sir?"

He shakes his head.

The nurse touches the end of her pen to her mouth, a note of sympathy forming in her eyes. Not for you, but for Yoongi. "How long have you had her?"

"Excuse me?" Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

The nurse tucks the clipboard under her arm, giving him a weary, patient smile. “With PhysComs, we have a list of probable scenarios we’re supposed to check for, to better inform the doctor of the situation, and speed along the treatment process.”

She barely spares you a glance before returning her attention to Yoongi, her voice lowered just a fraction. “It’s not uncommon for newly hired female PhysComs to try and… well, intentionally get pregnant from their clients. Especially if those clients have any amount of wealth or status.”

Yoongi seems lost for words.

She nods as if to agree with his surprise. “It’s some psychosis associated with the job,” she says with a shrug, then straightens her posture once more. “So has she been acting strangely at all? What are her symptoms?”

Your ears burn a bit at being talked about like you’re not in the room, but this isn’t the first time you’ve been in such a position. Oftentimes checkups during training were the same way, the physicians would speak exclusively among themselves and Madame while they examined every inch of you, inside and out.

Yoongi, however, is not used to such an experience.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He says, in a voice much calmer than you would have expected. But one glance at his face tells you all you need to know. His eyes are burning like hot coals. Molten and dangerous.

The nurse doesn’t pick up on his irritation, and busily flips through the pages on her clipboard. “I need reliable information, sir. If you please,” she prompts him.

You can feel Yoongi’s hand clench around yours, and you turn to quiet him.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hoping to reassure him enough so he’ll talk to her, but he stands his ground, his eyes glued on the nurse.

“Get out,” Yoongi says.

The nurse does a double take. “Excuse me, sir?”

“I said get the fuck out of here.” He points to the door. “Send us someone who will actually help.”

She fumes silently for a moment, but decides not to argue with him, and heads for the door in a huff.

Yoongi scoffs as you two are left alone once more. “What the fuck kind of bedside manner was that supposed to be?” He mutters, staring at the door.

“It’s okay.” You place a hand on his arm.

“No, it’s not.” He’s adamant, and you sigh wearily. How do you explain that this is only what can be expected?

You pick out a few haphazard words from the maelstrom in your brain, too tired to find the best phrasing. “Medical personnel… they don’t really get it.”

“Get what?” He asks, turning to you in outrage. “Being a fucking decent human being?”

You flinch, withdrawing your hand. You’re too tired to try and get your point across. But he notices you wilt and immediately comes closer, lowering his voice and placing both his hands on your arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the edge of anger fading away to gentleness. Kindness. “What do you mean?”

You sigh, looking off to the side. You don’t deserve to have him look at you like that.

You carefully remove his hands, trying to maintain some semblance of a professional distance, even in the face of disaster. “Most hospitals don’t look favorably at PhysComs. We were given a few lectures about it in training. We use up their resources and time that could instead be given to patients who didn’t willingly put themselves at risk.”

You remember how your fellow trainees had reacted after those discussions. Many of them found the treatment to be unfair, but you yourself felt that, in a way, the medical field’s viewpoint was reasonable. Your choices are what landed you here.

“What the- what are you talking about?” He huffs, still seemingly in the dark. “You didn’t ask for this… this scare. It wasn’t your fault.” He tries to meet your eyes, but your gaze is fixed firmly to the linoleum floor.

A mirthless smile paints your lips. “But I chose this life. And these risks along with it.”

Before he can question you further, the door bursts open and Kim Namjoon enters the room, both his dress shirt and his hair are rumpled, and his eyes are frantic. “Sweetheart?” He rushes to your side and crushes you in a hug. “Are you alright?”

You hear Yoongi let out a breath of relief. “She’s okay, for the moment.”

Something about the way Namjoon holds you feels like a lamp being held against your cold skin. You’re too damp inside to light a flame yourself, but his own body warms you from the outside in the meantime. You want to let yourself enjoy it, but the memory of your unresolved questions leaves you limp in his arms, filled with nothing but misery and confusion.

He pulls back after a moment, checking you over for signs of injury. His eyes are wide with concern. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

A flare of shame rises up in you at the notion of telling Namjoon about your rule-breaking and everything that occured since this morning.

Thankfully, Yoongi seems to sense your hesitance, and he fills in most of the pieces for Namjoon. Namjoon’s expression remains stoic as Yoongi recounts what happened - you being brought home unconcious, seducing Yoongi - up until the mention of your orgasm. Namjoon’s jaw slackens slightly at this, and his eyes scan your face, searching for something.

It’s at this moment that the doctor walks in, a different nurse at his side. He’s a slightly older man, a few wrinkles creasing his brow, and a smile that appears kind until it lands on you. His face is then tinged with that same indifference that most medical professionals give you.

You wish it was your usual physician, but since this was an emergency, you didn’t have time to take the trip to your usual practice. Whatever hospital is nearest, that’s what Yoongi had told the driver.

The man turns to Namjoon, who arguably commands more presence than Yoongi, and the kindness returns. “Sorry for the delay. Busy night. From what I understand, your PhysCom has malfunctioned, is that correct?”

“Her Opticon malfunctioned, yes.” Namjoon corrects him. His diplomatic tendencies are a blessing right now. You just want to know if you’re pregnant or not. You want to know if you’re losing your job. You want to go home.

The doctor runs a few physical tests on you, feeling your breasts, peering down your throat, and examining your vaginal canal, checking for any other symptoms of malfunction from your Opticon. “All’s well so far.” He says, pulling his forefingers out of you, snapping off his gloves, and disposing of them. “May I take a look at the ComGear?”

You feel a flash of panic, waking you out of your stupor. Fuck, was it still in the group chat? You pull out the slim device, heart hammering as you check. Nope. Just settings. Thank god.

You hand it over, and then remember with a looming feeling of dread exactly why it might have been left on the settings page...

“You do so much for us, jagiya.” Taehyung keeps his hands braced on your arms, his thumb rubbing gently against your skin. “You’re always there for us. Always giving… Now it’s time for you to receive.”

“I’m sorry! It’s my fault-” Jimin’s eyes fall to your compromising position, Yoongi’s dick still out, your leaking core exposed, and claps a hand over his mouth. He looks like he might cry. “Oh no...”

The pieces fall into place, and there’s no doubt in your mind. They must have switched it off.

But why? Why, why, why…?

The doctor - you’re too frazzled to read his nametag - pulls out a pair of reading glasses and takes a look at your ComGear, poking around the device with his pointer finger. “Hm. Strange.” He squints. “The Opticon does appear to be switched off.”

Namjoon blinks. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m afraid that’s the case.” The doctor shows him the setting, the toggle very much in the off position. Namjoon takes the device and looks at it in shock.

The doctor coughs. “I know that, um… for some individuals, the temptation and the… risk associated with no protection during intercourse can be sexually arousing. It’s not the first time we’ve gotten a case like this.”

He removes his glasses, folding them back into his pocket. “However, I would remind you and anyone else who uses this one’s services that although Physical Companions may be virtually expendable, it can become quite expensive for your own sake to impregnate them on a whim, using and discarding them, what with the standard fees for breaching their contract and-”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Namjoon interrupts him, and you notice the iron grip he now has on Yoongi’s arm. Likely the only thing restraining him from throwing a punch. “We’ll be more careful.” Namjoon glances at you, confusion making a little crease between his brows. “Is there some sort of morning after pill she can take, or…?”

“I’m afraid the lingering effects of the Opticon implant render any outside hormone blockers ineffective.” The doctor says, his smile turning thin. “It’s a bit of a blessing and a curse. The hormone production and ovulation suppressant in the Opticon normally make the chance of fertilization zero percent while in use. After it’s switched off, chances are still fairly low at 30 percent, for up to 24 hours. But the chances of fertilization after taking a morning after pill are significantly lower than that, at only five percent.”

He shrugs. “We’ll just have to wait and see. Chances are, your PhysCom will be right as rain and ready to pleasure clients again in about a week.”

A week.

First a week of suspension on Namjoon’s terms… Now it’s on medical advisement.

“A week? What should we do until then?” Namjoon voices your very thoughts, Yoongi seething silently beside him.

“Well, we won’t have any results until three to five days from now.” The man clarifies. “But I highly recommend you leave the implant switched off and keep her on traditional contraceptives until we know for sure. I strongly recommend utilizing other PhysComs in the meantime, just to be safe.”

You’re finished.

The doctor hands Namjoon a paper bag, most likely containing birth control pills and condoms. “She may be somewhat volatile for the next few days. You can bring her in for another checkup in a week.”

You’re weak.

“Thank you.”

You’re numb.

-------

It was a silent car ride back to the house, and as Namjoon helps you step out of the vehicle, one hand holding yours for stability while the other rests on your lower back, you can’t help feeling utterly useless. Detached from your surroundings.

What’s the point of any of this now? There’s no way they’ll want to use you until this is resolved. You’re of no use to them as a sex toy until at least a week from now, and by then it’ll be far too late to earn their favor back.

“We need to have a meeting. Call the others into the living room.” Namjoon speaks to Yoongi in an undertone, and you feel a small ache of hope. Maybe things will work out if everyone just talks to each other.

But when you enter the house and Namjoon begins to steer you upstairs, you finally find your voice.

“No.” You resist against him, turning around at the base of the stairs. “No, I want to be part of the meeting.”

The surprise quickly fades from his face, instead turning to concern. “You need to rest."

Something about the look on his face, about being told yet again through his actions that this doesn’t concern you, it causes something inside you to snap, your apathy vanishing in the wake of this new beast beginning to rear its ugly head within you.

Your throat closes up and a scream erupts from your aching chest. "You don't know what I need!"

Namjoon matches your desperation with an infuriatingly patient look of sympathy. He approaches you, his hand outstretched, but you stagger back away from him. He smiles sadly and drops his hand. "Stay here. It's what's best for you."

What's best for you.

The words throb in your mind, like the memory of an old wound. They bounce listlessly off the walls of your grandiose prison long after Namjoon shuts the door, sealing you away again.

You don't know what comes over you as you see visions of launching yourself at the door, pounding and scratching at the wood like a wild animal.

You could just open the door and follow him downstairs. Some part of you does register that.

But you want them to hear you. You want them to hear you rip your throat raw as you exorcise your demons.

You blink and you're standing still.

You haven't moved.

Your spacious room feels stifling. Like the walls are closing in on you, suffocating you.

Silken ropes sway in the dusk, catching your eye from beyond the balcony window. Your escape route from earlier that day.

You don't think twice before stuffing a few meager belongings into the long forgotten backpack kicked beneath your bed.

You need to leave this place.

You can't stay here.

-------

It had started drizzling not long after you left the house, and even now as you sit on the damp curbside, waiting for the next bus to take you far away from this place, it strikes you as funny, in a way, that the weather is crying for you, since you can't muster any tears of your own.

It's cold and misty, a foreboding atmosphere, by all accounts. It makes you question if what you're about to do is the right call.

But you shut down the arguments in your head as quickly as they appear.

Second guessing was what had gotten you into this situation. You need to follow your instincts.

And your instincts are telling you to flee.

It won't be so bad, you try to convince yourself. After the first night on the road, you'll eventually find a new town, a new home, a new place for yourself in this fucked up world. You've done it before, you can do it again.

You're considering suitable aliases for your new persona, when you sense another person approaching, their shoes tramping through the wet grass.

You don't look up at them, hoping they'll pass by and leave you alone. But they come to a stop beside you.

You keep your gaze on the road, droplets rippling the puddled potholes.

Then the stranger goes to sit on the curb too, and you can't help but look at them.

You'd recognize those lips anywhere, even beneath a baggy hooded sweatshirt.

"It's a bit late to run errands, don't you think?" Seokjin says, pulling his sleeves down to keep out the chill as he perches beside you.

He glances at you, then looks ahead at the road, the same way you were. You return your gaze forward, too exhausted to make a run for it. Though you don't get the sense that he would chase after you, even if you tried to escape.

Maybe that's exactly why you decide to stay put, but you don't give the suspicion any more thought.

"What do you want?" You finally ask, your voice croaky from being silent for so long.

"Nothing."

"Liar," you mutter, hugging your knees to your chest. "Everyone wants something."

He chuckles. Rests back on his hands. "I guess you're right about that."

Damn right you are. You didn't study the human condition through your years of training to be fooled so easily by pretty words.

"So?" You prompt him, still staring at the dreary horizon.

He takes a moment to respond. The silence is punctuated by the distant noises of traffic, an occasional car passing by, its headlights shimmering in the mist before disappearing down the road.

“The others are all out looking for you, you know,” he says simply. “Why do you think that is?”

If it were anyone else that had run away - their manager, a friend - you know what the answer would be. Because they care about that person. But how can you believe that about yourself, when you know you can never amount to anyone with that level of importance to them?

Ironic, since you’re the person with which they can be most intimate and vulnerable.

“I’m a liability,” you reply halfheartedly.

His silence serves to confirm your suspicions. A runaway PhysCom? Far too risky for a group at their level. You could become one of those anonymous sources like you saw in the news. A firsthand account of the BTS members’ secret sexual urges. Unacceptable. Snatches of words from the NDA you signed buzz around the edges of your mind like stray flies.

But since you're no longer connected to your network, then your tracker is probably disconnected. If the bus had come just a little earlier, you might already have escaped without a trace.

“You really think that’s the only reason?” Seokjin’s voice pulls you back to the moment.

His abysmal attempt to divert from the problem gets a hollow laugh out of you.

“Any other reason has ulterior motives. It’s just business.” You check the time on your ComGear. The bus should be here any minute. “I’m leaving, and I won’t let you stop me.”

“I don’t intend to,” he agrees, to your surprise. “God knows you’ve been put through enough.” He then leans forward, resting his forearms across his legs. “But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Your ears perk up at this.

Seokjin seems to take your silence as permission to continue. “The reason we decided to suspend you. It wasn’t… entirely selfless.”

You purse your lips in irritation and fix your gaze upon the horizon, settling your chin beneath your crossed arms. “Right. Ulterior motives, like I said.”

He clicks his tongue. “Touche.”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“So, what… were you planning to replace me?” You ask, trying to sound contemptuous. “I heard you all having your little group meeting in the kitchen. There are plenty of shiny new whores at your disposal, take your pick.”

He still makes no noise.

You wait, preparing to accept a bitter confirmation of all your fears.

But then he finds his voice. “We could never replace you, dear.”

You stop. Look over at him. His eyes are half lidded, his smile bittersweet as he stares off into the distance. After a few moments, he fishes around in his pocket and pulls something out, then hands it to you.

His smartphone.

“Here,” he murmurs, sympathy in the quirk of his lips. “In case you need to call anyone. Those devices they give you don’t have a cell plan, I assume.”

He seems to sense your wariness, and waves the phone a bit in a gesture of insistence. “I can buy a dozen new ones. It’s no trouble.”

You very hesitantly take it. “Thanks.”

Of course, he has no way to know that your ComGear is now jailbroken, for all intents and purposes. But… is this a trap? What if there’s a tracker in the phone? But why would he need to put a tracker in it if he doesn’t know your ComGear is off the grid?

The rumble of an approaching motor pulls you out of your cyclical thoughts, and you get on your feet, slowly coming out of your dissociative sulk.

But you still feel numb. Nothing matters anymore.

Nothing at all.

Jin gets up along with you, slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Stay safe, alright?”

You give a brief nod of acknowledgment, only half in his direction as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder more securely. The hydraulics of the bus screech as the vehicle comes to a stop and lowers slightly, allowing you to step onboard.

You glance back, fully expecting Jin to stop you. But he doesn’t. He blinks raindrops out of his eyes while you board, and gives you a small smile once the doors close behind you. He lifts a hand in farewell, then turns and starts to walk away down the street.

He’s really letting you go.

You pay your fare and find a seat towards the back of the nearly empty bus. Rain pelts at the windows, picking up in earnest, and it feels like yet another layer, another barrier, separating yourself and creating an ever-growing chasm from the life you knew up until yesterday.

You pull out Jin’s phone, staring at the dark screen and wiping away stray raindrops from the surface with your sleeve. Why had he come to find you, if not to stop you?

“But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Maybe he felt guilty. Or remorseful for the hell you’ve been put through recently. You would normally have felt immense satisfaction at such a thought.

But you can’t feel much of anything right now.

You don’t think you’ll be able to feel properly again. At least not for a long, long time…

Hm? The screen lit up. You must have pressed a button by accident. You swipe at it again, and to your surprise it unlocks. Who doesn’t put a passcode on their phone?

Is it possible… he disabled it before he gave it to you? Maybe. Whatever. You’re so tired of thinking, playing investigator and second guessing people’s motivations.

You scroll over to the phone icon, and tap on it, briefly considering calling your parents. But the wetness on your fingers messes with the touchscreen and you open the messages app instead.

You’re about to wipe the screen and try again, but… the most recent messages are… all about you. You tap on the group chat among the seven of them, currently bustling with activity.

[ Kim Namjoon ]: has anyone found her [ Park Jimin ]: hyung I’m so sorry [ Park Jimin ]: it’s all my fault [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not at the studio [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’ll talk about it later Jimin [ Kim Namjoon ]: everyone keep looking [Jeon Jungkook]: manager said they can call her network to track her down [Kim Taehyung ]: should we do that? [ Jung Hoseok ]: no! she could get in trouble :( [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not a stray pet [ Kim Namjoon ]: exactly [ Kim Namjoon ]: we need to keep this quiet for her sake [Kim Taehyung ]: she hasn’t replied to my texts or calls [ Min Yoongi ]: me neither [Jeon Jungkook]: hyung... will she be okay? [ Kim Namjoon ]: everything will be fine don’t worry [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’re going to fix this somehow [ Min Yoongi ]: whatever it takes [ Jung Hoseok ]: where could she have gone... [ Park Jimin ]: what if she doesn’t come back?

You scroll further up, past days and weeks and months of texts between them… not even a day between mentions of you. Wondering if you’re alright. Hoping you’ve eaten enough. Wanting to do more with you.

The thread of texts Jimin sent to Seokjin just yesterday.

Hyung I wish things were different I want to hold her I want to tell her she’s enough I wish I could kiss her… I think I love her Do you ever feel that way?

And Seokjin’s reply.

I do I know just what you mean Why do you think I turned those secondaries away last night, hm? No one can compare She really is special…

He didn’t… fuck the secondaries? After you broke at dinner, he… didn’t...?

You switch to his thread with Namjoon from a few days ago.

I know you’re our leader but I don’t think this is the way to go You need to be more cautious

Namjoon’s reply.

What we need is action, hyung If we work together on this, we could get rid of these unnecessary rules We could all have what we want Including her It’s what’s best for everyone

Seokjin took several minutes to reply.

You’re going to lose her.

Jin knew. He tried to talk Namjoon out of writing that stupid essay, or maybe it was about your suspension.

Either way, he defended you.

You open his thread with Hoseok. Dimly, you recognize that you shouldn’t be snooping, but you’re too absorbed to stop.

Hyung, I think she really wants this All of us ♡ I don’t know how, but we need to show her that it’s okay That we want it just as much

How do you know that’s what she wants?

I can’t say ♡ But I know now She wouldn’t reject us Our feelings She feels something too

The date and time lines up with this morning. The morning after he made love to you.

He didn’t tell them. He kept your secret.

“Our feelings”? What does he mean? Him, Jimin, Taehyung… Seokjin? Do they all…?

Your head spins, the hollowness of your heart filling with a rush of jumbled emotions, like a tide crashing in. All your numbness is washed out with light, just a pinprick at first, that grows rapidly into a ray of warmth as you consider what all this could mean. The chasm starts to narrow, and you get the urge to jump ship, to turn back and figure this shit out. To know once and for all what they want from you. What you mean to them.

But how can you trust this isn’t a trap? How can you be sure?

The answer is as simple as they come.

You can’t.

You can’t be absolutely certain that their intentions are pure… that this is the right thing to do… that you won’t be hurt again.

But maybe... trust isn’t about being infallible. Being right. Being sure.

Maybe it’s built on what ifs. On trying again, even with no guarantees.

Guarantees are only as good as their word, and talk is cheap. Lies are easy. Your Opticon had a 100% guarantee, and look where that got you.

But you remember the way Hoseok held you that night, and made love to you like you’ve never felt in your life... When Jimin kissed his way down your body, with only the best of intentions. Namjoon’s strong arms embracing you when you felt powerless. Yoongi’s hand never leaving yours, even while you waited in the hospital. Jungkook carrying you home after you fainted, breaking your door to make sure you were safe in bed. The look in Taehyung’s eyes when he finally kissed you, breaking the ice you’d been growing around your heart.

How Seokjin let you go.

Maybe...

You get up with a start, rush to the front of the bus, and hastily ask the driver to let you off, much to the old man’s disgruntlement, but the moment the doors whoosh open, you take off at a run.

You want to go home.

You want to try again.

No matter how much you try to bury it, to forget the way they make you feel, you care about them. All of them. On a much deeper level than that of a PhysCom and client. And it scares you.

But you’re done running from fear. From uncertainty.

Now you’re running towards it willingly, as you give chase down the torrential streets, searching for that familiar hooded figure and hoping you’re not too late. You’re embracing the doubt, the fear, the uncertainty, the paranoia... letting their shadowy claws sink into you until they can’t hurt you anymore. Until they fade away, cowering under the glow of your determination.

You’re setting some new rules for yourself, no longer letting fear control your thoughts and actions, barring you from any chance of happiness.

You see Seokjin in the distance, trudging home through the pouring rain. You run faster.

You’re fucking terrified. But you’ve never felt so free in your life.

“Jin!” You shout to get his attention, still a block away. He turns around, and shakes his head, seemingly confused, but a smile starts to appear. You smile too.

Finally, you catch up to him, and without warning, you throw your arms around his shoulders. Damn, he’s always taller than you remember.

He laughs, shocked by your change of heart. “What are you doing?”

“I want to hear you say it.” You reply, looking up at him as rain dashes down your face. You don’t know when you started crying, but you’re grateful to the weather for masking your tears.

“Say what?” He asks, his hands resting on your waist to support you. Thunder rumbles in the distance, rain sliding down his perfect face.

“How you feel about me.” You reply, studying his eyes. “Be honest.”

He seems to sense the gravity in your words. He holds you closer. His eyes soften.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

For the first time since all of this started, you sense no deception in his words, no double meaning, no hidden agenda.

Because you aren’t searching for reasons to doubt this time.

You’re searching for reasons to trust, and you find them.

You want to kiss him. So you do.