#going to my house with four walls and a roof and all the water and food I want

[huckleberrysyrup]

there’s a genocide happening and i’m expected to go to work and carry on as usual, as if my tax dollars aren’t what’s funding it, as if families aren’t being wiped out, as if thousands of children aren’t going through the most unspeakable, unimaginable horror. it’s fucking diabolical

[allywthsr]

GINGERBREAD HOUSE | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando make the gingerbread house challenge, while streaming

wordcount: 1.2k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of blood (but no actual bleeding)

notes: I switched up the order of the fics, the streaming one will come out tomorrow instead :)

advent calendar

”Alright Chat, we‘ll do the gingerbread house challenge, you get to decide whose house is prettier in the end.“

You got two boxes on the table and held them up to the camera, so people could see what kind of gingerbread house you got.

”It’s a simple gingerbread house from Tesco, I‘m going to make some icing in a second, and we have lots of sweets to put on top, just as sprinkles. Lan, do we want to do it on time or are we just free-styling it?“

”I would freestyle it, I don’t wanna rush and fuck it up if I need an hour, I need an hour.“

You nodded and gave him one of the boxes, opening yours and getting out the little plastic bags with gingerbread in them. Lando did the same and you checked if everything was inside, what it said on the box, you quickly whipped up some icing, with only some powdered sugar and water. You made two separate bowls, one for Lando and one for you, placing them on the table, while your boyfriend was reading through the chat.

”Everyone’s saying yours is going to be prettier.“

”I like your chat.“

He pouted and you pecked his cheek, with that he smiled again and checked out the different pieces of gingerbread he had in front of him. He tasted the gingerbread when he bit off on one end and licked the spoon of the icing, complimenting you for being a great cook. All you did was laugh about his statement, mixing powdered sugar and some water together wasn’t a big deal, but for Lando, the non-cook, everything you did in the kitchen was a miracle for him.

On a count to three, Lando and you started building the house, taking the bottom layer and you put some icing in the sparred out notch, where the wall belonged. You pressed the wall in the icing and let it dry for a few seconds, making sure the wall was standing.

Lando was different, he put the wall in and squeezed the icing in between the spaces and only waited for a millisecond before he let go of the wall. To no surprise, the wall fell down and smeared the icing everywhere, ”Babe! It fell down.“

”You didn’t wait long enough, for the icing to dry a little.“

He let out a huff and started filling the notch with way too much icing, pressing the wall hard in the white gooey consistency. When he let go of his wall, you were already on your third, every gingerbread was standing perfectly straight and didn’t fall down.

Chat was roasting Lando for his non-existent skills of building a gingerbread house, some comments made you giggle.

‘I love how Lando is not able to build a house, let’s hope their house in England won’t be built by him‘

‘Lando’s walls are crashing like my dreams‘

‘I want Y/N to build his house, this will be a disaster‘

‘It’s bwoken‘

Lando did your technique for a while, squirting the icing on the notch before placing the wall on top of it, but he used way too much icing and too much pressing down on the gingerbread, most of the icing was spilling out of the edges, you feared the worst. While you placed your first roof half, Lando was still on his third wall, he was struggling to get the walls straight, they were all bending in a different direction and you wondered how he was going to build the top layer on that. You placed the last roof piece on your house and Lando looked over to yours, ”Y/N, why are you so far ahead? I‘m still on wall four, that’s unfair.. can we switch houses?“

”Don’t even think about it, babe.“

He scoffed and fixed a corner, that was a bit loose, with icing. You smiled at his house, the walls were crooked, the icing was overflowing at where the gingerbreads were touching, and little white fingerprints were all over the house, where he touched the walls, somehow he got icing on his fingers and didn’t clean them.

You gently drizzled icing over the roof to make it look like snow, adding drops where you placed different gummy bears and sprinkles, lastly, you added the little gingerbread man in the open door of the house. You were finished.

”Chat, what are we thinking?“, you asked, turning the house in front of the camera and looking at the responses that came in.

”Lan, they think my house looks better, maybe I should take over your stream.“

”Chat, you’re betraying me.“

Lando placed the top layer on the wonky walls and groaned when it wasn’t looking like yours. He quickly added the two roof pieces and the gingerbread man, before you could blink, the whole thing came crashing down, the walls were breaking and the roofs were squishing the gingerbread man, splitting him into two halves.

”Lando! What did you do?“

”I don’t know! It just crashed.“

He started laughing in his high-pitched laugh, and you pouted, he tried to make it work but failed in the end. You two were speechless for a while, the chat was filled with people laughing and sending condolences to Lando and his house. After a minute of silence, he spoke up: ”I know what to do, give me a minute.“

You arched your eyebrow before turning to the chat and talking with them, answering small questions and thanking them for the donations. Lando turned the camera, so it wasn’t focusing on him, but only on you, you didn’t look at what he was doing, but he was using a lot of sweets and sprinkles before he said he was finished.

”Baby, close your eyes, I want your reaction at the same time as chat sees it.“

You held your hands before your eyes and waited for Lando to say something.

”You can look.“

You removed your hands and looked at his gingerbread house, gasping you looked between him and the house.

”What did you do?“

”What?“

”What is that supposed to be?“

”A gingerbread house but in the earthquake version.“

You let out a laugh, he put red sugar paste all over the gingerbread man, so it looked like he was bleeding, red sprinkles were placed around it and more sweets were thrown on top of the house.

”You are creative baby“, you pressed a kiss on his cheek and chuckled once more, before looking at the positive responses from his chat.

”Who won, chat?“

Lando made a poll, where they only had to click on a name, quickly Lando’s name reached the top, with seventy-nine percent it was obvious who won. With a little defeated smile, you congratulated him.

[archangeldyke-all]

hi hi hii sweetheart. Oh my lord. Your writing is literally so good, you honestly deserve the best, mind blowing, legs shaking, knees bucking, cant even talk orgasm. I'm so sorry. someone had to say ittttt. But I was wonderingggg😋 could you maybe do a drabble with reader and sevika are selling their house because maybe they have a little fucker on the way and they need more room, so they are goin through the house one last time and sevika starts js randomly naming out all her favorite times they have had sex in each place of the house...and she recalls like Hella details not even reader remembers. (Reader has pregnant mush-brain.) But could sevika be like..."wanna find a place we haven't fucked before..?" AND ITS LIKE THE HARDEST THING TO FIND BECAUSE THEY HAVE LITERALLY DONE IT EVERYDAY. But they end up finding a spot and sevika gives reader defo on the top 10 best sex they have had in that house. Could sevika maybe have a penis or even js her strap on in this...?:3 ANYWAY I WOULD LOVE THIS BUT IF YOU CANT DO IT ITS OKAY TOO!! I love you so so much your writings literally amazing!!!

this is so cute i love it!! (and thank u so much, i'm so glad u like my stuff eeek!!<3)

men and minors dni

you should probably be feeling a little more sentimental and sad about leaving behind the house you and sevika have been living in for seven years now.

these four walls have been your home through some of the best days of your life: meeting sevika, marrying sevika, realizing you're pregnant with sevika's baby-- it all happened here. you guys built your lives together here, and overtime, they became so intertwined and connected that you've become a 'we' rather than a 'me.'

but in all honesty-- you're thrilled to be leaving.

you hate this house. the floors are slanted, the roof is leaky, the windows aren't weatherproofed, so it's freezing in the winter and boiling in the summer. you haven't been able to take a bath in the tub for three years now because there's cracks in the caulk and any water above an inch deep starts to flood the bathroom. it's a shitty house, and you've been wanting to leave for years.

sevika's always been the one to convince. it's not that she loves your house, it's that she doesn't want to put the effort into finding a new one. but, upon the two of you finding out that your family will be growing in a few short months, sevika finally relented.

and now, just ten minutes down the street from this place, you've bought a beautiful family home, big enough for the two of you, your future baby, and whatever other family members (both human and animal) that might spawn in the future.

your inspector gave it an A+, the yard is spacious, the floors are level, there's not just one, but three bathtubs,-- and the one in the main en-suite is like a hot tub-- big enough for you and your wife to fit and lounge. you're so fucking excited to move in, that you're not even a little sad to leave behind the old space.

sevika's been eyeing you with worry all day as she lugs boxes and furniture to the moving van. she's waiting for your pregnancy hormones to hit you and for you to become a blubbering mess at the thought of leaving behind your place. you can't blame her, your pregnancy hormones can and have turned you into a puddle of tears over much less. just last night you cried for thirty minutes because one of the celery stalks in the bunch you'd bought was wilted, and all his celery friends were still green and healthy, going on living without him.

but, really, you're fine.

she's not buying it.

"sevika, for the last fucking time, i'm okay!" you groan. the house is mostly empty now, just a few boxes and some lamps left. sevika's taking a snack break, one of her arms wrapped around you as she looks at you with concern.

"i'm just saying babe, we can't come back after tonight, so if you need any, like, sentimental pictures, or a good cry--"

"oh my god!" you laugh, elbowing her. "sevika, i'm okay, really. i'm so fucking excited to go, i'm so excited for our future. i'll cherish the memories this place gave us forever, but i don't really care about the place itself." you shrug.

sevika studies you carefully, and then she pouts a bit. "it doesn't make you a little sad?" she asks. you raise your eyebrow, surprised to hear your usually-so-stoic wife is feeling ...sentimental?

"what makes me sad?"

"babe, this house is the first place we ever fucked in!" she whines. you burst into laughter. sevika points to the empty bedroom behind her. "you're not sad to leave that room behind? after all the times i fucked you into incoherence in there?" she asks, her eyes wide and sparkly like she's actually a little emotional. you can't stop laughing as you reach up to cup your wife's cheek.

"honey, you're gonna be fucking me into incoherence for the rest of our lives." you remind her. sevika smiles a bit at this.

"yeah, but... we had so many good times in this house." she sighs wistfully. you chuckle, pecking her cheek.

"we did. remember when you dented the drywall with the headboard?" you ask. sevika giggles a bit, her gaze snapping back down to yours, her hand reaching around your body to start gently stroking your ever-growing belly.

"'course i remember, i had to plaster it back up myself." she chuckles. "remember when we almost started a fire when we were getting kinky with the wax?" she asks. you blink up at her, drawing a blank and pouting.

"no." you whine. "tell me, it sounds hot." you demand. your pregnancy's been blessedly healthy, but the one symptom that's hit you hard is your baby-brain. sometimes, you're just total mush in the head. sevika's been patient and kind each time. right now, she just smiles salaciously at you and presses you against the counter.

"you don't remember?" she asks. "our second anniversary, we wanted to try wax play? you got the special lotion candles and everything, wore those pretty lacy panties i ruined last year on your birthday, and i let you tie my hands up." you smile, the memory slowly coming back to you, heat building between your legs as she speaks. "anyways... it was goin' real good until i kicked over an unattended candle." she whispers.

you break into laughter-- the memory suddenly flooding back to you. "shit, i miss that blanket." you snort, remembering the way the comforter seemingly spontaneously combusted.

"you were screaming as you tried to pat out the fire, and i was tied to the fucking bed that was goin' up in flames-- i thought i was gonna fuckin' die." sevika cackles.

you snort, and kiss her cheek. "i saved you, though." you brag. she laughs.

"yeah, you did."

"c'mon, tell me another." you demand.

sevika raises an eyebrow. "another what?"

"another sex memory." you say. sevika giggles. "they're all fresh and new to me, i like remembering how fun and hot we are."

"hmm..." sevika thinks, her eyes darting around the house. she snatches your wrist and drags you to the bathroom. "i'm still pretty convinced i got you knocked up in here six months ago."

"which time?" you ask. sevika smirks, kissing your cheek and pinching your ass.

"exactly." she teases. you snort. "no, but for real, there was this one time-- i'd just finished my workout and you'd had a big glass of 'shower wine'" sevika puts this in air-quotes, teasing the habit you indulge in each night, "and i fucked you against the sink so good that you had to get right back in the shower once i was done with you. fuck, i came my fucking brains out, honey, i couldn't speak for like ten minutes afterwards." your thighs clench a bit at the memory, your stomach bursting into butterflies at the way sevika's voice has gotten all heavy. her eyes are dark when she looks over at you. "and then, boom. two weeks later you're pregnant." she says, grinning.

you giggle. "you think that was the one, huh?" you ask. she nods.

"what's your theory?"

"i always thought it happened when you fucked me on the couch while we were watching that stupid cop-buddy movie." you say. sevika laughs.

"so you remember that-- a lazy, unromantic fuck after a long weekend of both of us lounging and not showering-- but you don't remember the good ones?" she asks. you just giggle and shrug again.

"they're all good ones with you, baby." you say. sevika's teasing look melts away, something needier taking it's place. you know what she's going to ask for, so you speak before she can. "you think there's a place in the house we haven't fucked?" you ask.

sevika blinks, considering it for a second. "i dunno."

"i wouldn't wanna leave the house with a room un-fucked in, sev, that would be a real shame."

"fuck, it really would, wouldn't it?" she asks. you snort and nod.

"so?" you ask. "you think we've checked all the boxes or can you think of a place we might need to--"

"the attic. you think you can crawl up there in your state?" she inturrupts you, rubbing your stomach as she eyes the little hatch in the ceiling of the hall. you burst into laughter.

"the attic!?"

"c'mon!" she laughs, jumping up and grabbing the string, pulling the stairs down. "you go first, i'll catch you if you fall. she says, steadying your hips as she walks you up the first few steep steps. you can't stop laughing as your wife basically herds you up into the attic.

you've never been up here, execpt for the few times you've had to put a pot down during a rain storm to stop the leaks from coming down into your home. it's dingy and dusty, and you can't even stand up straight-- you have to crawl to the end of the small storage space so sevika can fit up beside you.

she seems just as disgruntled with her choice as you are, but she's determined to make it work, quickly stripping herself of her shirt and laying it down behind you as a blanket. you giggle. "lay down." she requests, holding the back of your head as you lower yourself down so you don't bonk it on any beams or bars.

you can't see her like this. you're flat on your back, and your stomach is huge. you don't know what she's planning, so it's a shock when sevika starts tugging at your pants.

you burst into giggles, lifting your hips up to help her. "what's your plan here, babe?" you ask as she starts kissing your bare legs.

she hums against your thigh, considering your question. she trails a hand up your thigh, teasing your cunt with a feather-light touch, before lifting her mouth from your leg to speak.

"'m gonna get you knocked up again." she says.

you burst into laughter, and you can see sevika lift up from between your legs to admire your smile. you grin down at her, and widen your legs. "give it your best shot, baby." you choke out between laughs.

sevika, grins, and then ducks back down to disappear beneath your tummy and bury her face in your cunt.

fuck, you're horny. the baby's been giving you crazy hormones, and while sometimes that means you can cry at sad celery, other times it means you're so insanely horny you could cum from a strong breeze.

"oh, fuck, baby!" you cry as sevika buries her tongue inside of you. she hums, reaching up to start working her fingers in the mix.

"gonna cum already?" she grunts before ducking back down and sucking your clit. you smack your hand against the dusty floor beneath you-- too round to reach down and tug her hair like you want to.

"fuck, 'm gonna cum all over your fuckin' face, sev." you whine, your brain turning to mush as you get closer. she groans against you at your words, and you take it as a sign to just let your mouth run. "'y feel so fuckin' good, 'y fuck me so good, shit, sevika, sev!" you scream as you cum.

before you can even ride out the first wave of your high, sevika's jumping on top of you to mount you so quickly that her head smacks against one of the low hanging beams in front of you.

you gasp-- still cumming and horrified at the loud "SMACK!" that rings out as you watch your wife's head collide with the beam-- then you burst into pitying, whiny giggles as sevika curses.

"shit!" she groans, reaching up to hold her forehead. you reach up to cup her face, laughing and shivering and somehow still cumming.

"are you okay?" you giggle, pulling her down to kiss the bruise already forming on her forehead. she grunts.

"i'm fine."

"liar." you giggle. you tilt her head from side to side, giving her pupils a good look as a half-assed concussion exam. "poor baby. need me to take you to the urgent care? see if you got a concussion?"

"i'm fine. just need to put my dick in you." she grunts.

you laugh, but shut your legs before she can sink into you. she huffs and glares up at you, and you pinch her chin. "remind me to check you out for real once we're done, okay?" you ask. she nods. you glare at her, knowing she won't. "sevika, you're my brain until the baby comes, i don't care if you don't want me to remember, you really gotta remind me. if you have a concussion and die because i let you fuck me instead of taking you to the hospital-- how am i supposed to explain that to the baby?" you ask.

sevika groans. "okay! okay! i know! ''re you gonna lemme fuck you or what?" she asks.

you pucker your lips, and sevika's annoyance melts as she swoops down to kiss you. you hum happily and open your legs, smiling up at your wife. "okay." you agree. sevika grins, and then she sinks into you with one smooth thrust.

you both gasp, your open mouths just a breath apart from each other as sevika starts to work her hips against yours. "fuck." you whine. sevika smirks down at you.

"fuck." she agrees.

your thighs are shaking-- her cock fills you up perfectly, like she's made for you, made for stretching you just right. each of her thrusts is accompanied by a wet smack, and you bury your face against sevika's shoulder in embarrassment as the wet sounds grow louder. she chuckles.

"you've been fuckin' leaky since i knocked you up. your cunt's so fuckin' needy, isn't it? already put a baby in it and it's just droolin' for more." she grunts against your ear. you cum the second the words leave her mouth, your nails sinking into her shoulders as you shake apart. sevika grins down at you. "fuck, it's so fuckin' cute how easy you are when you're carryin' my kid. i just put it in babe, you're already cumming?" she teases again.

you bite her neck, relishing in the way her breath hitches as you try to collect yourself, then hiking your leg up over her hips and gripping her hair in your hands. "it's your fault." you whimper as you try to catch your breath. "you knocked me up 'n now i'm fuckin' stupid and horny and-- and you feel so good." you whine.

sevika shivers on top of you, and you tug her hair harder.

"'m yours, baby." you whimper. "all yours."

that's the final nail in the coffin-- sevika screams a "fuck!" as she cums at your words. you grin, clenching around her cock and giggling at the way her arms nearly give out beneath her. "you're an evil woman." she sighs appreciatively. "i love you so much."

you laugh, and sevika ducks down to kiss your exposed neck. "'m your evil woman." sevika's dick makes one more feeble twitch inside of you at your words, the reminder that you're hers. you giggle in delight at the feeling.

"damn right you are." she mumbles, grinning.

you sigh as the euphoria of your orgasms wears off and the hard floor beneath you starts to kick in. "you might need to carry me back down the attic steps."

sevika bursts into giggles. "you might need to take me to the hospital. i can't tell if i'm seeing stars because i just came so hard or if it's a concussion."

you groan, and sevika muffles her giggles against your neck.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[fandomzwriterk]

Can you do a sfw (or NSFW if you want) if Smoke and reader having an argument and Smoke tries to make things right with the reader?

A/N: oh absolutely I will! Also mentions of JohnShi and RaiLao!! (We stan MK1 ships here)

Warnings: pretty much chill except a few harsh words

A Little Smokey

Tomas, you, Hanzo, Kuai Liang, and Harumi were spending the hot summer afternoon on the training floor of the building, as it was the only room with no walls and a roof over with shade. Kuai wasn’t having it, being that he was burning both on the outside and on the inside. Tomas was dying from the heat as well, both him and Hanzo on the other side of the room to stay away from Kuai’s heat. This was bad even for you, and having Bi Han around would make it easier but sadly no, he’d gone rouge and left you all behind to work with Shang Tsung. The heat was bad today, the five of you practically out of commission for today. Even Liu Kang wasn’t having fun either, he and Geras were burning up too.

“What I would give to find a giant pool of water right now.” You spoke out loud

“Yeah I’d feel so much better and not like I’m burning inside.” Kuai added

“Hold on I have an idea!” You hear Raiden say from a distance away

“What is it?” Tomas asked

“Let’s go ask Johnny if we can use his pool! He’s always saying we can use it since he’s almost always never around.”

“Fuck it I’m in.” You answered sitting up speed walking to Raiden and Kung Lao

“Me too.” Kaui added as he got up and sprinted over with Harumi behind him

“Alright fuck it we need an off day.” Tomas replied

And sooooo…

It took a little time to get to Johnny’s place, with the group also trying to see if Kenshi wanted to go as well. Unfortunately they couldn’t find him, so they resorted to going anyways.

“Ah yes finally free cooling!” You cheered as you, Kung Lao, Raiden, and Tomas went running through the door and into Johnny’s open door

“Oh hey guys I heard you-“

You four didn’t get far, crashing into someone a little ways into the house and falling to the floor. You fell on Tomas while Raiden and Kung Lao rolled to the side but right on top of each other. To your surprise, it was Kenshi, swearing a pair of white swim trunks patterned with pineapples, no shirt while having dark sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Kenshi” You shouted

You shot up from Tomas’ grip, going to hug Kenshi since it’s been awhile since you two interacted at all.

“Hello Y/n it’s good to see you too. I see you brought the whole team.”

He gently elbowed your side, noticing he was looking in the direction of who was at the door.

“So let me guess… it’s Raiden, Kung Lao, Y/n, Tomas, Kuai, Harumi, and Lord Liu Kang.”

“Good guess my friend you know us all too well.” Kuai responded back to Kenshi

It took a few minutes for everyone to get their clothes off, most of the boys just walking around shirtless with some sort of shorts on. You could see Harumi gawking at her husband Kuai, and you felt the same about another brother of the Shirai Ryu.

“Hey Y/n come on! You’re so slow!” Kung Lao shouted

“Cannonball!” Both you and Raiden shouted as you both ran to the edge of the pool before jumping in

“Incoming!” Johnny shouted as him, Kenshi, and Hanzo jumped right on top of you both

Almost everyone was in, except Harumi, Kuai, and Tomas. You couldn’t see what they were doing very well or hear what they were saying but it seemed like Tomas was nervous and asking a question. What you didn’t know at all was that Tomas was asking questions, about you.

“Just go to her and say ‘I like you’ to Y/n. That’s all you gotta do!”

“But-“

“Your brother is right Tomas you just have to say those three words to her and she’ll fall on her knees for you.”

“And what makes you so sure she will?”

“Just trust us.”

And so Tomas bid Kuai and his wife a quick farewell before slowly walking to the edge of the pool, quickly spotting you in the middle with Raiden, Kung Lao, Johnny, and Kenshi around you like they were fawning over you. It made him frustrated, after all he did like you but it was a pain to deal with four different guys at your feet as well.

“Y/n!” He shouted

You quickly looked behind you, spotting the handsome assassin looking right at you from outside the pool. You quickly swam over and pulled yourself out of the pool, standing in front of the grey haired man you admired.

“Can we talk over there?” He asked pointing to an open area behind him a few feet away

“Sure!”

You followed him to the spot, your eyes drifting to his ripped chest and bulky arms. He was attractive, and your eyes couldn’t stop staring at all of him. However, his attitude quickly turned when you didn’t expect it too.

“What are you doing with those four?” He grumbled

“They’re my friends Tomas I like talking to them and joking around with them.”

“Well I don’t.”

Where was this coming from? You’ve never known Tomas Vrbada to have clashing personalities with anyone else in the Shirai Ryu… well except Johnny. Yes he was Tomas’ favorite actor and Johnny’s even asked Tomas to star in things with him, but there are times where Johnny oversteps like he did before with Kitana and her sister Mileena some odd months ago.

“So?”

“So? I know for a fact Johnny and Kung Lao will try for any girl within ten feet of them, while Kenshi and Raiden will get to you slowly, hoping you slip one day.”

“And we’re just friends! What wrong with that?”

Now you were confused and annoyed, you’ve always been friendly with the champions of Earthrealm long before you realized you’d have feelings for Tomas. Were those feelings a lie now? This wasn’t normal of Tomas, to be angry and annoyed with someone.

“What’s wrong with it? Y/n the four of them like you why else would they always be around you?!”

“For your information Tomas they don’t. I know that for a fact, and there’s no reason to speculate it. Why are you mad about it? You know I don’t like them either! I like you!”

Before Tomas could even react, you started to turn and walk away.

“Wait Y/n!”

Tomas shot an arm out, holding onto your wrist as you both stared at each other.

“You like me?” Tomas asked

Oops. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“Yeah?”

“I-I thought that-“

“Tomas how blind are you?”

“What?”

He let you go, and you smacked yourself in the face with your hand. Oh so Tomas wasn’t as observant to other relationships as well as he said he was.

“Tomas… oh my god.”

“What? What’d I do?!”

“You are so clueless.”

“To what? What’d I miss? Clearly they like being near you cause you’re a girl!”

How were you gonna say this since Tomas’ perception of a “relationship” was a boy and girl… but that was not the case with the four guys you were both talking about.

“Tomas… Kenshi is in a relationship with Johnny and Raiden is with Kung Lao.”

The weight of his own stupid assumptions hit Tomas in the face. Well, there went his bragging rights of saying he knows everyone and everything about everyone there.

“Okay… I see… my bad.” He answered covering his face with his hands

Poor Tomas had just been hit with the classic “the four guys are gay and the girl is actually not any of their crushes”.

“I am so dumb aren’t I?”

“Yes you are Tommy.”

“H-Hey! Don’t call me that in front of others!”

You just laughed, even though you felt a little hurt at Tomas’ blind views of how you felt about him and your friends.

“How can I ever repay you back?” Tomas asked moving his hands away from his face

“You don’t have to Tomas. Just know it’s always you.”

He smiled, feeling heat in his cheeks as you went and grabbed both of his hands in yours.

“I feel bad and I want to fix what I said.”

“You don’t have to. We both messed up in this situation, I should’ve told you a while ago when the boys came out of the closet.”

Tomas held back a laugh. You felt better knowing you made Tomas smile and laugh, forgetting about your small disagreement from earlier. You didn’t regret telling Tomas your feelings, not one bit.

“Ready to cool off?”

Tomas held your hand in his, taking a step past you to bring you both back to the others. You heard someone go “called it” and someone else add “Johnny” in the crowd of your friends. Kuai Liang and Harumi were smiling at you, Kuai holding in what seemed like a perfect joke.

“About time brother.”

“I hope it went well?”

“It went just perfectly.” You joked

And so Tomas and yourself walked over to the edge of the pool, right before Tomas grabbed your waist and jumped in with you. You could feel his grip on you even under the water, you knew he wasn’t ever going to let you go. You both came up for air, Tomas shaking his head to get the water out of his short grey hair, while you pulled back your hair. He treaded water next to you, smiling as his grip got a little lighter. His smile was wide, quickly looking to the four boys mentioned earlier and sighing.

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

The end…

[callsignfangs]

The 141 boys as widowers. (bc i feel like torturing myself /j)

141 x late (implied) spouse! reader

cws: grief, mentions of loss, implied alcoholism/alcohol as a coping mechanism, mentions self-destructive behaviour, very brief mention of addiction, etc (Please lmk if I've missed anything!)

(Note: This little drabble is a little self indulgent, a bit about my own journey with grief. Each little 'story' thing does end with acceptance. Please don't read if you're not in the right headspace, and remember that you're loved and you're not alone, and make sure to reach out if you need help <3)

--

Price is the one inclined to bargaining. Maybe he could've done something - what if he'd taken a bit more time off work, what if he spent more time with you, what if he'd agreed to retire early with you, what if he was there? Ironically enough - he just ends up drowning himself in more work, probably turns to smoking or alcohol in an attempt to drown everything out.

141, Gaz and Soap especially, will definitely be the only thing he holds on for. As capable as they all are, he couldn't just up and leave his boys without a captain - he couldn't make the same mistake over again, they gave him something to care for, to nurture and to look after.

I don't think he'll ever marry again - just making half-hearted attempts to peek into the dating scene whenever leave got especially lonely. He'd never be able to find anyone quite like you, so he eventually stopped bothering with it, finding warmth and comfort in himself and the other people he loved.

He keeps a photo of you, one of your handwritten notes, and any little trinket you'd given him at all times. Saved every single snippet of you talking he could - even still paying off your phone bill occasionally ringing your phone to hear your voicemail message, maybe sending you texts when things got especially hard. Definitely does chores the exact way you always did - from the time you went out to shop in the morning to how you stacked dishes. Loves hot showers but still takes a lukewarm one each morning because your habit of taking cold showers meant the water was never hot enough for him. I think he probably adopts something after the rough edges of the hole you'd left in his heart smoothed over.

It wasn't intentional in the slightest - maybe a stray cat had clung to his pant leg while he was on a hike or the task force managed to pick up an orphaned little kid on one of their excursions. He's very hesitant with them, still not quite trusting himself with caring for another being. But he warms up to them eventually. No matter human or animal, they've definitely been brought to your gravesite once or twice.

Maybe it would be alright, eventually. He'd at least have something interesting to entertain you with the next life he found you.

--

Soap is definitely in denial. Convinces himself it's a mistake - that when deployment's finally over, he'll trudge home, kick off his boots, and be met by his sweet love, bouncing at his heels like an overeager puppy and lathering his face in flittering little kisses. He still avoids coming home like the plague - resorts to anything from taking on way too many missions, to picking up another job on the side, even to staying in hotels as if he was in some sort of covert op.

He'd be forced to go back to your house eventually, though. Not home, it wasn't home without you there. Just the same four walls and roof he camped out in on deployment. Nothing warm or special about it.

He still pretended, though. Made your bed every morning the way you liked it and prepared meals for two every day.

While Price and Ghost undoubtedly pulled him out of his slump, Gaz was the person who really started him on the road to acceptance. Having the boys over near constantly was soothing, giving him something to occupy his mind with and overshadowing the cold emptiness of the house. The occasional cuddle piles and game nights reminded him of the warmth of their bond - like the nights they spent on stakeouts, letting their own sweet joy shield them from the brutal realities of their situation.

Gaz was the first person he cried to. Soap couldn't bear the way his buzzed sides were starting to fluff out, but he'd slowly gotten used to letting your gentle hands preen him and tidy him up. Of course, Gaz had noticed, and of course, he'd insisted that Soap just had to let him have a go at doing up someone else's hair. Soap didn't know when he'd devolved into tears - somewhere between the first gentle touch he'd felt in weeks and the crippling realisation that you'd never be there to do it again.

Either way, he'd managed to cry himself to sleep in Gaz's arms that night. He continued to sob himself away for weeks, filling each day with tears.

Until each day turned into each few.

And each few turned into once a week.

And slowly, his tears dried up.

It was an arduous process, grieving. But he stubbornly forced through it, just as he'd forced his way into your heart.

And he did his very best not to change. He determinedly kept the mohawk - even used the same shampoo because it made his hair feel perfectly fluffy under your touch. He did his best to continue being his perky, bubbly self, because he knew how you practically basked in his energy.

However, he still let himself grow, let his hawk grow out so he could braid it the way he'd always considered, and he let himself have his bad days, didn't force himself to keep up his energy when he didn't really have enough.

Admittedly, though, he never married again. He found temporary enjoyment in little flings, though he let them pass when the time was right. No matter what, he always came back to your house.

Sure, it wasn't quite home without you there. But you'd been there - no matter how little the time you'd had together felt in hindsight - so maybe he could learn to make it home again. For you.

--

Gaz is angry - furious to the point of enraged tears. If it was him? He'd understand. He'd hurt people, torn apart lives and taken his fair share of them. He deserved it. But you? It wasn't fair. In his eyes, you couldn't possibly hurt a fly, so delicate and tender and so, so soft. It just wasn't fair.

His attempt at coping is to delve headfirst into a tedious slew of missions - one after another after another. It gives him something to dump all his blind rage and hurt and desperation into. His morals were a writhing, flailing, unrecognisable mess for a long time, and the best comfort he could find was in the chaotic monotony of work.

So what if he burned everything in his path to ash? At least the threat was dealt with.

Price and Ghost are the most essential to his recovery. He needs guidance, needs some sort of structure, and needs to relinquish the tight hold on his need to be good, to fix things, to help, to finally restore what he was so reliant on, even if that meant tearing himself to shreds in the process. What he needs is time to grieve, time to come to terms with the unforgiving reality - that it just happened. No-one did anything wrong, there was no violence or intent, it just happened.

He'll absolutely come to deeply regret everything he did in his grief-induced warpath, but eventually accept that he was hurt and lost and just needed the help - the intervention.

Like Price, I think he might attempt to put himself out there and find someone new every once in a while, maybe even builds up to a couple dates, but he never really finds interest in anyone. He definitely remains friends with many of the people he meets, but he just can't quite find a spark - mainly because they're not you.

He never throws out anything of yours, his wardrobe is still mostly full of random articles of your clothing, and the third drawer on the nightstand is still yours.

He always wears something of yours when he goes out, from shirts and shorts to hoodies, even some of your jewelry.

Despite it being admittedly pretty late, he finally watches all of the shows you liked and reads all the books you did. It makes him feel closer to you - cuddling up under your favourite blanket in your favourite spot and picturing you being there with him, imagining each and every one of your reactions, practically seeing your lovely face curl with smiles as you commentated over the whole thing.

Sure, you weren't really there with him anymore, but the sweet, warm mark you'd left on his heart was enough to carry him over until he inevitably returned to you.

--

Ghost is mostly depressed. He's so agonisingly hurt and lost, but you were his sun - what gave him life and love, and without you? He just couldn't muster up the energy to do anything beyond simply existing. Even he'd expected himself to crash and burn - follow in his brother's footsteps and drown in a spiral of addiction. But he just... Didn't. The affirmation that he didn't blow up and take everyone he loved down with him would be reassuring, comforting, but it wasn't. Not without you whispering praise in his ear, assuring him of his goodness and softness.

I think he'd also be reliant on Soap and Gaz, but Price would be a surprisingly big factor as well. No-one could ever really replicate the effect you had on him, the way your encouragement kept him going, but having some amount of structure, of motivation? It helped. Despite that, he absolutely tried to push them out at first, convinced that the acrid shadow of death looming over his shoulder would eventually take them as well. What are task force 141 if not determined and unfathomably stubborn, though, especially when it came to caring for their own.

Soap undoubtedly led the charge - seeing as his ceaseless energy and affection were mildly more normal (god knows Simon needed a little bit of comforting normalcy). Gaz came second, still snarky and headstrong as ever, but with softened edges and an air of gentle care. Price was last. He'd been there before Simon was Ghost, he was aware enough to piece bits of his past together - and he'd be damned if he managed to scare Simon, if he was the reason he regressed further. So he was tender. Delicate, even. Ghost would despise being handled like fragile porcelain in Price's kid gloves, but it soothed a part of Simon that hadn't peeked out since you left.

It'll take a bit longer than the others - more therapy, reassurance and care, but he'll recover eventually, let the wound you left in his porous heart scar over and go on as best he could.

I don't think he'll look for romance again either - his interest in it just died out alongside you. He wants to preserve the sanctity and tenderness of what you had, and is more than content with holding that love in his heart, and keeping it safe for you until he meets you again.

After you're gone, he attempts to follow your advice more, occasionally dragging himself out of his comfort zone, picking up new hobbies and trying to emulate your passion for life in himself, keeping a little bit of you alive with him. He absolutely douses the house in your favourite fragrance, refuses to use any hygiene products other than yours and carries something of yours everywhere, whether it be your ring or even your purse, just something to remind him he had to look after things (including himself) for you.

Even if you were cremated or buried in some other way, he'd ensure there was a gravestone for you placed alongside his mother, Tommy, Beth and little Joseph. You'd always be part of his family - his heart, and when his time came? He'd be buried alongside you, trailing along with you into whatever came next. By your side forever.

<3

Yippee. This was. A journey. /lh

Sorry if this isn't formatted the best, it was more of a massive brain dump that I forcibly shoved into something just about understandable lol

If you're seeing this, tyvm for reading mwah 😚😚

[synintheraven]

✵pairing: sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

✵summary: the crew goes raiding in an attempt to gain riches and reader keeps taunting Sihtric as he's still reluctant to her being there at all.

✵tw: mentions of blood/violence, violence, fire (as in provoked fire, burning stuff?)

✵word count: 1,5k (note: will try to keep chapters about this long so I can divide the story into many chapters hehe)

characters info | part one | part three

It was raining. The air smelt of wet grass and damp earth, filling my nostrils. Watching as water drenched the timber of the floor, or how drops fell from the thatched roof over our heads.

It was a cold, dark night and I missed the warmth offered by fire and a dry cloak over my shoulders. But everyone was sleeping and no one suspected a few wolves were quietly wandering among sheep.

We had managed to find a small village, still safe from the clutches of the Great Army’s Danes. It lay on the Black Bourn River, hidden behind willow trees and yellow reeds: looking like no more than an old ruin from afar, but with enough riches to fill our ship.

The place was scattered with small houses going inland, following the road through empty fields and skinny farm animals, stopping where a sad tree marked the entrance. There were no guards, no fighters; only a few old hounds and a single rusty bell to the far side of the village, near the deserted docks.

Yggr was standing by the entrance of the hut, peering outside as we waited behind him. The place smelt like animal dung and water was passing through the holes in the thatch. But we had swords in our hands and eyes sharp, ready to surprise sleeping Saxons.

—Sihtric, Y/N: you two, go. —He beckoned towards the thegn’s house, whose position was given away by the bigger size of its estate.

We went fast, but quietly. Keeping hold of our weapons and avoiding puddles, walking carefully through the bushes.

Sihtric went first, guiding me through the village as he avoided the light from torches and bonfires. Searching for a way into the hut, for doors creaked and we couldn’t risk getting caught, at least not until we had seized the thegn.

We had managed to find an uncovered window, revealing a small area with a table and leftovers from supper still scattered around. It was our way in, though we needed to remain unnoticed.

I jumped through, and scooted the room to ensure there was no one else around, looking for spying eyes before Sihtric came through. Yet the darkness of the room hid no one, not even when thunder brought some light through the wooden window.

The man we were searching for was resting only a few steps away from us, a poor straw wall being the only thing in between us and the four of them; two children, the man’s wife and our target. I moved slowly, approaching his wife and kids, while Sihtric stood behind the man.

He held his short sword to the man’s throat, awakening him with a soft blow on the chest before speaking. —Where’s the silver? —He said in English, but to me it sounded like he was making up words.

The Saxon’s answer was decisive, for it was up to him whatever we were to do next: he could either scream, therefore have Yggr burn everything and everyone to the ground, or he could stay calm and save everyone by giving us a simple answer. Yet by the Dane's reaction, I suspected his answer wasn’t the one we wanted.

—You lie! —He bellowed with a frown, awaking the man’s family. —Tell me where the silver is or she will kill them.

The man remained calm, despite the cold steel threatening the flesh from his neck. His wife, however, looked around with eyes wide open and sat on the furs determined to cry for help, though my sword pointing towards the kids made her reconsider.

—Burn in hell, heathen. —The thegn snarled back, spitting on Sihtric’s face while his kids and wife felt nothing but terror.

Whatever he had said set the Dane’s eyes ablaze and, all of a sudden, there was nothing but rage in his face. Stumbling on his own feet and with his eyes fixated on his poor wife’s worried expression, the man had his wrists tied together and was then forced out of the hut.

Rain drenched their clothes as they stood in the front yard, both facing the burning huts and Yggr’s warriors as they looted the place.

—You chose your pride over your people, now you’ll see them burn! —He spoke loudly, kicking the man’s legs and forcing him on his knees. Then, I suppose, proceeded to repeat what he had said in English, causing the man to twitch around and try to get rid of Sihtric's hold.

But there was no way back. Yggr and his men had heard us and set the thatched roofs ablaze.

It was quite a sight; fire burning bright in the dark night, as the storm and the villagers tried to stop it from spreading. Some men attempted to go after our crew and tried to use hooks, small axes or whatever they could find to defend their belongings, their land. And they died or got seriously injured, fighting with skilled warriors and not mere farmers like them.

Yggr was standing only a few steps from us, stopping his frenzy for a moment to look at the thegn. The light from the fire lit his blonde hair and the fresh blood running down his axe, which he pointed towards us.  —Is this what you want, Saxon? —He said with a deep voice, loud enough to be heard despite the heavy storm and screaming warriors around him. —Show me the silver and I’ll spare your life and those of your people.

Sihtric held the man’s head, forcing him to look at our Jarl. He must have been trying to seem strong and unbreakable, looking somewhere into the sky while murmuring unknown words; but a man’s pride has limits, and we had pushed his too far.

—Enough! —He pointed with his head, sighing as my Dane companion forced him to stand once again. —It’s inside the well, there!

The formidable Norse swung his axe around, allowing the water rain to wash the blood from the steel as he moved it towards the startled Saxon. The man was brought closer to the well, which was covered in mush, grass and a few rocks, a subtle cover for the hoard hidden inside.

But as the men searched for treasure, I remained next to the house; still pointing my sword at one of the kid’s throats, his sobbing mother watching as her husband surrendered what little wealth they had to us.

One full bucket of trinkets and the few horses we managed to steal, that was all. Merely enough to buy dirty furs or grain, far from Yggr’s dream to become a proper lord on his first week raiding East Anglia.

The Ragnarsson’s Army had scourged Britain and rid it of the bigger, wealthier riches, and there was nothing we could do about it. We had too little a number to fight them, let alone to try and invade the only territory that remained Saxon and clean of Danes: Wessex.

That was the country’s jewel, the only one that couldn’t be taken. A kingdom that promised the dreamiest treasures and plenty of big, fertile lands for each and every warrior following the brothers.

There was word that King Alfred’s kingdom was stronger since the King’s brother passed, but we Danes and Norse thought the bastard was only lucky; for there were more ships navigating the rivers each day, all of them coming from their homes in the North.

I was sitting next to Sihtric, silently watching the dancing flames in front of us as he sharpened his sword. While Yggr sat near the crumbling wall on the far side of the camp, staring somewhere into the foggy land around us.

It was a dark cold night, without a single star in the sky. The thick fog covering the land around us and the heavy rain falling on the river, deafening every other sound.

Our hiding place now had a timber wood floor and a poorly built thatched roof, along with a small bonfire to warm us. Though we still had no walls, the tall pillars built by giants being the only kind of cover against wandering strangers and the autumnal weather.

—Those tall buildings with old men in dirty robes. That’s where the good stuff is at. —Said a man sitting behind us, loud enough to be heard despite the storm. —We won’t survive long here, trapped in these muddy ruins like a hare surrounded by wolves.

—Soon, hare, you’ll become the wolf. —Sihtric paused, his eyes fixed on a deep nick over the sword’s blade. —But there’s nothing left for us in those places, or here in East Anglia.

—Where are we going, then? —I interrupted, taking the weapon from his grip. —To put this big boy knife of yours to good use, I hope.

Sihtric barely showed a smirk, but I could tell he wasn’t happy sharing his belongings with me, nor with my teasing jokes. —Until the scouts come back, nowhere. —He slowly took his sword back then cleared his throat awkwardly, but kept his bold, mismatched look on me.

—You’re going spying. —Said Yggr, joining us to stand beside the fire, his hands hovering over the warmth. —I can’t sit and wait for them to return, so you’ll join Ivar Ragnarsson in Mercia. Just the two of you.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Let's Build an AU Poll #2

A new house.

Drip.

It is something so simple with its four basic walls and sturdy roof, and yet so full of promise. A new start to life. New friends to go on adventures with. Places around to discover and explore. 

Drip.

A place that quickly becomes familiar. Yet seems so strange as one goes about figuring out how to display their life upon its walls.

Drip.

How-

Drip.

“UGH”! screamed (Y/N) as she flung open her white bathroom door. Her face twisted in unleashed fury as she stomped over to the faux-marble sink. Her (S/C) knuckles turned white from forcing the sink knobs to stop the leaky faucet.

But, it didn’t work. The harsh drip continued. Somehow seeming louder and faster than before. Almost like the faucet was retaliating.

Eye twitching, (Y/N) threw her hands against the counter in a hard slap as she sunk to a squat. She opened the cabinets in anger and looked to the pipes. Nothing, not a single puddle or damp spot of wood.

“Great…” She muttered, rocking back on her heels. “Guess, I’ll have to make a call.”

Standing, (Y/N) walked out of the bathroom. A pout on her lips as she reached for her phone that rested on her bed.

With only a couple taps, she was able to dial the one person she knew would help. Her Dad.

The conversation started out as it always does when a devoted father receives a call from his daughter. The quick bit of catching up was interrupted by an embarrassed cough from (Y/N). That was all her father needed to know, something was wrong.

“Well…” She started. “The sink in my master bathroom won’t stop dripping.”

The static from the phone’s speaker did little to dampen the deep hum that he produced. “Did you shut off the water?”

“No.” (Y/N) spoke, wondering if that was even possible. “I’m not even sure how to.”

She could hear her dad’s chuckle; the sound made her both smile and flush in embarrassment as he explained what she needed to do.

His instructions were simple. Find the water valve. To do that one would have to either go down into their basement or their crawl space. Then just flip the switch. The dripping would stop, and peace would exist in her home.

Until she decided to call her father back again on how to troubleshoot the faucet itself.

(Y/N) quickly moved around the full boxes that lay in the barren halls and empty living room. Her steps were light as she bounced down the stairs to her unfinished basement.

Her (E/C) eyes were peeled at the skeletal walls. Picking apart the unneeded wires and filler, until her vision settled on the cylindrical water heater in the corner.

It has to be near that! She thought with excitement.

With a little jog, (Y/N) approached the large heater. Her left-hand slid along the metal as she leaned down to look for the valve.

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed together at the lack of a valve. Instead, there was a single, green pipe. It was connected to the back of the water heater and led into a wooden panel on the wall.

She allowed her weight to carry her down onto her knees. Reaching forward, her nails dug into the wooden panel as she tugged on it. It took a couple of harsh pulls for the wood to give. Its sharp crack echoed across the cement as (Y/N) fell backwards with an oof.

She rose back to her knees. Her annoyance at the effort morphed into the open-mouthed look of shock.

Instead of the predictable set of pipes and valves, (Y/N) had expected, the little green pipe forged ahead into a crawl space. It seemed completely fearless; at the monster-like mouth she had created.

(Y/N) peered into the void. There was something felt off. It wasn’t the darkness. Nor the possibility of touching spider webs or bugs. Something more primal, like an unspoken warning that caused the hair on her neck to rise. A promise of a strange encounter that shook her spine with icy shivers.

Drip.

That sound. That damn drip. It was like a lightning strike as (Y/N) annoyance flared once more. It’s heat caused her to cast aside the fear. Blinded her to the common sense of taking it slow as she pulled her phone from her pocket. A simple flick lit it as her flashlight as she charged forward in a mighty crawl.

In her determination to follow the tiny, green pipe to the valve, she brushed off how the floor changed. It was no longer cool cement, but smooth green metal. Its appearance matched the smaller pipe.

She had only traveled a few feet on the metal, when a breeze whipped along her back. Startled, (Y/N) snapped her head back. There was nothing, but the wind picked up.

It had become a vortex as it pulled her forward. Like a dragged dog, (Y/N) tried to maintain her grip. Her hands scrambled for anything to hold on to as her phone disappeared into the large pipe. The smaller pipe felt like a rod of iron as the suction intensified.

It lifted her feet, stringing her back like a flag in a storm. Tears bubbled as her muscles burned and the woman fought to get back to the cement flooring. Desperate to reach the light.

But she couldn’t. Her grip slipped.

(Y/N) screamed.

Down into the darkness she went. The large pipe warped her long its corners. Whipped her hair around like she had gone mad. Pressure crashed around her, almost like the pipe wanted to squish her flat.

It felt both like an eternity of darkness and yet only a second of a pain when she was spat back into the sky.

Her hands once again scrambled in fear as the reality of a fall became imminent. But, there was no harsh pull of gravity. She drifted down like a dropped piece of paper. Floating down to the soft ground below.

She lay there for a second. Taking in all the broken laws of nature. Before shakily, bringing her hand to her face. She gasped at how it looked cartoonish, almost like what one would expect in a chibi videogame.  

(Y/N), though panicked and confused thought she could at least handle it, until she turned her hand.

She screamed at the realization that she was FLAT. As flat as a piece of paper.

She raced to a stand and attempted to look over her new form. Her body rolled like origami as she took in her chibi form.

WHAT WAS HAPPENING!?!

Sobs raked through her as she fell to her knees. All she wanted to do was fix a stupid leak. Now, she was stuck in this…

(Y/N) paused, tears and snot still falling, and looked around. The hills around her were a vibrant green, and tall bushes looked as plush as pillows. In the distance sat swirling pillars that caused her to whimper when she noticed their eyes. They seemed to be staring at her.

What was this place?

The harsh crunch of grass caused her to look behind her as she scuttled to a stand. The bush quivered. Was it a predator? Some villainous human ready to prey on her?

(Y/N) felt her legs tense. Ready to run.

A gloved hand pushed through the bush.

 Its sudden appearance made her jump, but a voice kept her in place.

“Hey, its okay! It’s me –“

TADA~

This build is…

PAPER MARIO!!

Yup, that’s right. The bowser poll from like a year ago is resurfacing in its own way. But in all seriousness, I was playing the rebooted Paper Mario 1000 Year Door, and I was inspired!

Like who wouldn’t like to be isekaied into Papertalia. Then take the place of the hero fighting alongside your favorite nations, using their special skills along the way. Hopefully to get home. Or at least establishing your place in this world.

This week’s poll:

Feel free to comment, reblog, or do whatever.

[solidwater05]

So this dream starts in Minecraft as usual

I can't remember exactly what happened, but I was with at least other 2 people exploring an abandoned underground... thing. The section we were exploring looked like a mineshaft but I know it was some sort of bunker or facility. It seemed very sinister. The walls were white and it had irl lights. That place was not a mineshaft, and god knows why it was hidden underground. Me and the rest of the group discovered that the lights still work, and we decided to go investigate, but we stopped. I don't remember why, I think it got too dark as we went further in and it was creepy as hell

The entrance to that place was a hole in the surface. It was a huge drop and it was hard to see the bottom from the surface, so you couldn't actually know if there was water at the end or not. If the lights underground were off, it was like looking into the void.

Then the scenery changed

I was in a village, it looked like one of the old ones but it was during a raid. I was hiding in a brick house because I had like no equipment whatsoever and there was a ravager outside

Despite having no armor, I had a maxed out bow for some reason, and I was one-shooting all the raiders (I have a maxed out bow in my main world, you can't one-shot a pillager even with strength 2)

So I was doing well until some guy from Clash Royale will a rocket launcher hit me, made a giant hole in my roof, and left me at half a heart. I immediately retreated

My brother, who was helping me fight, also hid in my house. On the floor, there were four oak trapdoors, looking inside was like staring at the void. It was that underground place

My brother and I decided that it would be safest to hide there. We jumped and started planning how to survive. We didn't have a lot of resources and the place wasn't super habitable. We also decided to remove the water from the entrance so any enemies that dropped down would die

Exploring the place, I assume that we eventually got to the next scene. My brother was no longer there

It was in an irl place, I'm not sure how to describe it. There were two sections- one where you could sit down to eat, and the other that was huge and mostly empty. One of the bathrooms was accessed through a long thin hallway. Two angels came out of this bathroom. Here starts the next scene

It was a play telling the tragic tale of two sapphic angels, I can't remember how it went but I remember at least one of them dying. I also remember it being a bittersweetly beautiful story

The story emphasizes how the remaining angel chose to remember her lover's love and beauty, and she made an artwork depicting her as a constellation embraced by the night sky

The audience was very moved by this.

At the end of the play they showed some sort of painting with both of the angels

The one on the right, who is the one who survived, was surrounded by two circles resembling snakes. This was unrelated to the devil disguised as a snake, they were just there because snakes are cool. One of them was copper, and the other one was paper white.

The angel was trying to reach out to the left, with tears running down her face.

The angel on the left, the one who died, was standing facing away from the audience with her arms behind her back, with her head turned to the right, in the direction of the other angel. Her eyes were closed and she had a gentle smile. She had long brown hair, very pale skin, rosy cheeks and lips, and a white dress. She was surrounded by trees, vines and bushes, and she was outlined with light.

After the play ended, I was talking with my cousin. Someone in the background said that the play reminded them of something Mr. Incredible said about cubone??

Uh, anyways, my cousin said something about roleplaying an OC she made, and suddenly I was interacting with that OC who was the justice kid from Undertale. He had a gun, of course, and a chihuahua with a spiked collar. He mostly shot people who were assholes to dogs

[dollsonmain]

Ok, so all at once (though not really, it's more that That Guy has neglected these things forever and made it impossible for me to take care of them), we have:

bathroom floor is rotting

AC is broken

driveway has sunken and there's a literal hole in it

very leaky window which he filed an insurance claim for and will be repaired whenever, but he probably should have just paid for the repair without filing a claim because it's under $2k and now his premiums are going to go up

the ceiling fan doesn't work

deck is literally rotting

gutters are clogged

garage roof has water damage

lots of small wasps inside recently

ants in the walls

all four outdoor lights on the front of the house need replaced

basement wall is leaking but he can pretend it's not because there are boxes in the way

fridge is rattling

And then add to that I have a "new" job that's wrecking me (it's gotten better after she stopped having me go into the cooler to schlep drinks around) and taking up both my physical and mental time because I'm stuck in a brain loop of frustrations with how the place is run.

Today I have work and then groceries and then after groceries I can barely move so I won't get anything else done. I have no idea how much I work this week so can't really plan anything. It's also going to be very hot this week so I won't be getting outside much.

[spicyclover]

Unplanned | part three

Summary: You are pregnant with Mick. It’s not going as planned; in fact, it’s not planned. Everything happened so fast, and everything was chaotic. Mick has a hard time accepting it. You have difficulty realizing that two of you may not be raising this child.

Part one | Part two | Part Three | Part four | Part five | Part six | Part seven | Part eight

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

Y/n feels like she’s going out of it, but she doesn’t have time to fall asleep when Gina announces they have arrived.

She opens her eyelids wild, and the stress kicks back in immediately. 

The house is large. A pink shade escapes from its walls due to the setting sun in the distance. The roof tiles have an orange colour that perfectly matches the Swiss landscape. Stunning views of the valley and Lake Geneva. Stress takes hold of her, but she tries to keep her composure. With eyes wide open, she looks at Gina, and she smiles tenderly before getting out of the car to open the gate.

Yet she is stuck. Her body refuses to move. She gets a big heart attack and wants to throw up the chips she ate on the way home. It is against her heart that she gets out of the car to vomit on the side of the road. She regurgitates everything she has to swallow, and Gina quickly finds herself at her side to help her. She trembles and cold sweats seize her body. She suddenly gets freezing and starts shivering once she’s done vomiting.

“Are you all right?” Ask Gina, who gently rubs her back while holding her hair.

She doesn’t have the words, so she nods and tries to smile, but it looks more like a face than anything else. Her legs hardly support her, and she leans more toward Gina. She gently brings her back to the car and makes her sit by telling her that she is coming back.

She is then left to herself. She takes deep breaths to try to calm down and regain confidence. Her phone turns on, and she sees that she has just received a notification from her mother. Without hesitation, she presses the little icon to call her mother. 

“Hello?” 

“Mom,” she said, bursting into tears.

“What’s going on, baby? Are you okay? Where are you?” 

“I want to go home. It was a bad idea to come. They’re gonna hate me, and he’s gonna hate me. I can’t. I can’t. Mom, I’m scared.”

“Look, baby, it’s gonna be okay. Tell yourself you’re the bigger person here. He’s the spoiled baby. You take the first step, and that’s what matters most. If you really don’t feel capable. You call a taxi, return to the airport, and take the first plane. We don’t care about them. It’s about you. Okay?”

“Yes,” she says, sniffing it loudly. 

“And, it was Corinna who invited you. You introduce yourself, and you’ll see what she tells you...”

“Yes,” she responds with a small voice. 

“Well, now you come to your senses and dry out those big crocodile tears. I love you, my dear. If you ever call me, I’ll talk to them.”

She laughs at the comment to her mother and hangs up after telling her how much you love her. The tears ruined her makeup, but she didn’t care. She opens her bag and takes wipes to remove her makeup. Her dark circles appear, but she doesn’t care. She pulls it and undoes her hair.

Meanwhile, Gina went back inside the house to look for her mother. As she walks through the door, she is greeted by the excited dogs who jump on her. She laughs while getting her face licked before entering the kitchen to find Corinna.

She continues to prepare the meal, and most guests are already in the lounge enjoying an aperitif. She lifts her head and sees her daughter. She advances towards the entrance but seeing Gina’s face, she stops.

“Are you all right?”

“She threw up her potato chips on the side of the road. I’m here to get her a glass of water.”

“Oh no! Where is she? Why didn’t you let her in?” 

“I think she needs some time, Mom.”

Corinna nodded and filled a glass of water. Gina reaches out her hand, but Corinna ignores her to get out of the house and go up the small path to the portal. She sees the car still spinning in the distance and hears a small voice speaking in another language. She stops a few meters from the car and watches the young woman inside.

She watches her take off her makeup and do her hair differently. She is surprised by the beauty of the young woman. She did not expect to see such a sweet and pretty girl, but at the same time, she slept with her son. So it doesn’t surprise her, either.

She looks out of the car and sees a blonde woman waiting at the front gate. She quickly understands that she is the matriarch of the family. She takes a breath, and Corinna approaches the car. 

“You didn’t need makeup anyway,” she said, gently reaching for the young woman. “You look even better without it.” stroking her cheek with a sweet smile. 

She smiles and accepts the glass of water. The air is cold, but it feels good. Corinna wraps herself in her oversized vest and reaches out to the young woman to guide her home.

Meanwhile, Gina takes care of parking the car in front of the garage and takes Y/n’s luggage out of the back seat. Corinna invites her inside and gives her a quick visit before showing her the rooms.

“Your bedroom is at the back on the left. There you have the bathroom,” continues Corinna opening the door to show her. 

“Thank you very much.”

“I put your bathroom kit on your bed. You can see it if you want, and I have to return to my kitchen.”

“Thank you very much for the invitation, Ms. Schumacher.”

“Come on, call me Corinna.”

“I’ll try,” she whispers, watching Corinna go to the kitchen. “What’s behind that door?” She asks by pointing the right door at hers.

Gina does not have time to answer when the door opens abruptly to let Mick appear.

To be continued...

[firsttimewriter92]

Everything Black Part 1.

This is a Post Azkaban Sirius Black x fem! reader (Muggle) fic I came up with. This is the first time I´m writing something like this and posting it, so let me know if you have any suggestions as to how I can improve my writing. I am not a native speaker so please keep that in mind :) Please, please don´t copy my work. If you want to repost, please do. I would love it if you tagged me, though :)

Warnings: canon typical violance, No smut or angst so far (will eventually happen) This is a slow burn, folks. Maybe because I am obsessed with details.

Word count: 1.800

Summary: One strange night, a man known as Albus Dumbledore decides that it was you, who was the perfect fit to make a certain someones life more comfortable. Your own life nothing but a grey veil, you decide to humor the wizard and let youself be introduced to a world so far away from yours.

_____________________________________________________________

Shoulders hunched and hands in your pockets, you ran across the cobbled street and up the antient stairs to a higher level street. There, in the safety of an overlooking roof you stopped to catch your breath. The ice cold wind was going right through you and you tried to keep your toes warm by lightly jumping up and down. As you pulled your hat lower over your freezing ears you could see other people hurrying left and right to get home as quickly as possible. You imagined their lives for a second. Were they going home to their families? Would they enter a warm, welcoming flat or house with people waiting for them; smiles on their faces? Or do they hurry back to a cold, fairly furnished flat with florescent lighting and a leaking water tab? Because that´s where you were headed.

With a sigh and your forehead in wrinkles you hunched your shoulders again to brace yourself for the cold and darted off again. Only three more turns and you would wind up in the dingey little alley where a small flight of steps would take you down to your lovely home. You scoffed at the thought. Being alone for most of your life, well we do not count the 16 years you spent with your emotionally absent father, you just did not know why a home should be any less than four walls to return to just to sleep. That is why you spent all day either working or wandering about the city. It was quite nice in spring and summer. And given, even the low hanging fog on a quiet autumn day gave this antient town a form of mystery that many a writer has already been intrigued by. But in winter, the harsh, cold winds and the rain that could not decide if it wanted to be snow or not, was nothing short of unpleasant.

You rounded the last corner to your flat when you saw something so unnormal, your feet rooted themselves to the ground. There, in your alley, adorned with rubbish cans and an ever present smell of anything old, stood tree people, two facing the other one. All three had one arm extended and were pointing…chopsticks at each other. Nonsense, you scolded yourself. Those cannot be chopsticks. Why would tree grown people point chopsticks at each other? Rather menacingly in fact. How absurd. The wind was howling stronger now and before you could ask those tree figures what in the devils name they were up to, you heard a loud crack. The very second you heard it, something green shot out the tip of whatever it was one of them was holding. Maybe fireworks? Those were your last thoughts before there, in your little alley all hell broke loose.

Suddenly you found yourself in a state of panic. You ducked behind a rubbish can as more and more cracks and loud bangs filled the air. Wherever these lights would crash into, something was destroyed. Some of them even ricochet off the walls causing debris to fall onto the street. You couldn´t think. The heat of the lights that crashed close to your hiding spot lead you to duck even deeper into the shadows and rubble. Now you even heard someone scream something. Almost like an order but you couldn´t make it out. And as suddenly as the lights appeared, destroying walls and trash cans, there was silence. No more lights. Smoke and dust clung to the air as you let down your arms that you had wrapped over your head for protection. As if that would have helped any, you thought. Knowing only one thing, stay where you are, your breathing was hard and you could feel your throat burn from not being able to make a sound. Or so you thought.

You heard steps coming closer. Oh that´s just grand. The other guy probably dead and now, it´s my turn. Why has no one sent for the police yet? Someone must have heard the ruckus. True, it was already late at night but still!

You crouched in your spot, waiting for something to happen. Your heart pounding in your ears, waiting. You could feel a presence right next to you. Staring ahead with wide eyes you did not want to look up at the person who was probably about to end your life.

„Excuse me, Miss. Would you happen to have a Mint?“

___________________________________________________________

Your head snapped up when you heard the question. Your eyes were met by piercing blues behind halfmoon spectacles and a kind smile. Before you stood an old man with a long white beard and hair. He was tall, wearing the strangest clothes you had ever seen. A long dark maroon robe clung to his shoulders and you could make out the trousers of a needle stripe suit. Dumbfounded, you blinked up at the man who was kindly smiling at you.

„What? “, you asked, still staring. „I was wondering if you have a mint on you. You see, problem solving tends to give me a bad taste in my mouth. “The man smiled and put both hands on your upper arms to help you stand up. Patting the dust from your legs you eyed him from the side. „Sorry. I´m afraid I cannot help you with that" you said in a bit of a wiry tone. The man just smiled. „Ah, a shame. Well, at least the problem got solved “. You looked around. The three people that just a minute ago were trying to end each other were gone. You looked the alley up and down but there was no sign of them. Thank the heavens but it also made you incredibly uneasy. What did that old man do? They quite literally vanished.

Said man was currently watching your every move. Already an idea brewing in his mind. He knew he had only two options with you. One of them solely possible because he was, who he was.

„What did you do to them? And what where they doing with those…sticks anyway? They nearly blasted my head off! “You turned to the man and with every word your voice got a little higher. „Yes, well. It seems these tree gentlemen had a disagreement and- “„Yea, no shit“, you scoffed. The older man's eyes twinkled at that. „And were dueling to see who would win the argument“, he said as if giving this explanation was his daily business. You raised your eyebrows. „Dueling? Like they did 100 years ago? Only with, I don´t know…laser shooting sticks? What in all the gods' names is going on here?“, you asked exasperatedly. The man chuckled. He knew now which option he would take. „I can assure you it has nothing to do with lasers. Although that would be an easy answer for you, no, that was not it. These men where dueling with…wands.“ He waited a little to end his sentence for dramatic effect. You looked at him incredulously. „Wands?“ you repeated in a low voice. Before he could answer you started grinning. This soon ended in you almost doubling over holding your stomach. Surely this was a joke, or the shock finally caught up to you.

The older man lightly laughed along with you. „Miss, I am delighted to see that you find this information only half as shocking as I expected you to, but I am afraid we need to relocate sooner rather than later“ he chuckled. „W-what do you m-mean?“ you asked still gasping for air and wiping your eyes. „You are absolutely bonkers. I am not going anywhere with you. I am going home! Wands…next thing you are going to tell me is that they were wizards“. Still wheezing a bit, you turned around and walked off towards your flat. „Maybe you should start believing in the unbelievable a little bit more, Miss. I am guessing working in a Bar and walking around the city can become kind of dull.“ You stopped in your tracks and slowly turned around. The feeling of having to prove yourself yet again made its painful way up your throat. „Sir, let me make one thing clear“, you sneered, taking a couple steps towards him. „I do not know how you know this about me nor do I particularly care. But I did not leave my old life behind for another old man to tell me how to live it! You want me to believe that magic is real? That I just witnessed it! Fine, fine. Prove it to me then!“ Why did you sound so desperate at the end? This was an utter joke.

The old man reached into his long robes and produced yet another wand. You looked at it skeptically. Without a word the old man flung the wand though the air. Your eyes widened when from the tip, silvery smoke erupted. First it was without shape, and it still could have been some sort of trick. But then in front of you, in the air made of silvery smoke, hovered a large bird flapping its wings slowly. It had very long tailfeathers. Slowly it rose above your heads and started to fly around you, gathering speed. You twisted and turned as to not lose sight of it. It was gorgeous. The next moment it was slowing down and disappearing into thin air. Your heart pounded, but not out of fear as it did a few minutes ago, but because of sheer excitement and childish joy. „Was that...? I only ever saw drawings. It´s a mythical creature!“ you whisper-yelled looking at the man. His eyes were fixed on you the whole time. „Mythical for you. Yes, that was a phoenix,“ he said calmly. „Believe me when I tell you, you were in grave danger when you entered this alley. And I cannot say if there are others about. So, I would like to see you save. And I cannot see you save here.“ He gestured to the rubble on the ground and the blast holes in the walls. You looked around as well. Was this your life? Did you want this to be everything there is? The answer was clear to you. The opportunity was standing right in front of you. So, you looked at the man with a stern expression, nodded your head once and took the last few steps until you were right in front of him. He smiled a brilliant smile and moved to stay beside you. „I am very relieved you see reason, Miss. Now, please hold onto my arm and close your eyes. The first time can be quite uncomfortable.“ You looked up to him with raised eyebrows and with a last, what in the gods' names am I doing here, you grabbed his arm. „I am _____ by the way“, you said quietly before closing your eyes. „It is my utmost pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss ____. “That was all you could hear before your stomach turned.

____________________________________________________________

Let me know if you liked it so far :) Should I post the second chapter? Many more beloved characters will be introduced in this one.

[judgementdaysunshine]

Chapter 5

Swept up and washed away

You gasp for air as you manage to get your head above water before going back under, seeing flashes of water, debris, and other people. You yell out when debris hits you, you suddenly feel a lot of pain in your back, stomach, and rib screaming as you surface the water managing to grab onto a wooden pole as you cough and cry frantically looking for dom, yelling his name hearing nothing but the rushing water until a voice cuts through "Over here!" you look to see a girl who couldn't have been more than 15 or 16 along with an older man and woman holding a big branch with a metal pipe stuck in it "Grab on we'll pull you over!" you wrap your legs around the pole, grabbing the metal pipe, and kicking your legs to swim as you hold on tightly until you are pulled up "Thank you". You tearfully hug the three as you catch your breath learning that the man and woman were a couple from Nigeria and the girl was on vacation with her parents from Belgium, "What's your name dear?" you look up at the woman who gently pulls you into another hug "Y/N" you wipe tears from your face as you start getting terrified not knowing where dom was or if he was okay "My name's Chioma and this is my husband Ifechi" you nod as you pull the girl into a hug as you can see the fear in her eyes "I'm Ida" you all manage to pull the debris next to land in between two trees and begin looking for others whether to help them or for them to help you didn't matter, you were going to help anyone in need if they needed any help or comfort. Dom feels his chest burn as he goes back underwater until he feels what's left of his shirt get caught on something, he suddenly sees a hand before seeing the sun and grass as he coughs and pants seeing the cuts and injuries on his body, he looks to see a woman in her 30's next to him "You alright?" he nods as he feels his heart drop not seeing you anywhere or hearing your voice, he sighs as he holds his hand out to the woman "I'm dom thanks for helping me" she shows a small smile shaking his hand "My name's Pepper" the two begin to talk as they walk around, he learns that she had come to the island with her two kids and he almost falls over when he notices the small barely visible bump on her stomach but he tells her about you and the two of you vacationing on the island as he feels his heart drop hoping you're alive. The four of you so far have only found debris and bodies of people who were already gone or dying and couldn't be saved, you all stop when you hear the rumble again holding on to each other until it stopped, but you all begin running faster when you hear the familiar crashing of waves as you see another wall of water heading for you from infront of you, you hear a pained yell quickly grabbing ida and helping her up a tree before being swept away again hearing ida yell in horror, you feel like your trapped in a washing machine as you feel debris hit you over and over again seeing the sun shine through the water until you go unconscious after being hit in the head by debris. Dom quickly helps pepper on part of a destroyed house climbing up as the water surged through but yells as he falls in from a piece of the roof breaking from under his hand, pepper stares in shock as she realizes what happened as dom yells before choking on water and feeling debris puncture his leg making him yell in pain underwater as he pulls his leg off a jagged branch, grabbing and holding onto a tree until he hears crying and a familiar voice whimper in fear looking to see Margo on the branch above him holding tightly onto the tree "Margo! Oh god" he climbs up and sits on the bigger branch across from her as she cries in relief "Dommy!" he chuckles at the nickname as she jumps to him and wraps her arms around his shoulders as he rubs her back relieved to have a familiar face with him and tears flow as he quietly cries after noticing that margo fell asleep in his arms.

[idiotwithanipad]

Ten Questions With Pin

Alison: Ten questions with Pin

Alison: Had to cross through the woods and meet Pin at the border, turns out that Barclay's land is a bit more vast than ours, so there's a lot more room for the ghosts over at Barclay's to wander.

Alison: So... Where were you born?

Pin: I was born in cave, it happen during big storm. Snow and hail. My mother almost die, but fire keep her warm so she live.

Alison: Oh no. Well, glad to know she survived. I guess childbirth was VERY risky in your time?

Pin: Oh yeah. Cousin died that way. Even more dangerous for babies. Fada had to put me in wolf boot to stay alive. Just so I not turn to ice.

Alison: Robin, right?

Pin: No, Robin are birds, my Fada called 'Rogh'.

Alison: Gotcha. Um, how did you die?

Pin: I go to sleep and wake up dead. No big flashy story to tell. I just- died...

Alison: I'm guessing it must've been an age thing at the time?

Pin: I not oldest one in tribe. That was the Wise Elder. Oh, very old, white hair, face look like bottom of foot when in the river for too long. Big ugly, but big smart. We put handprint on cave wall every year, last I remember I put handprint on wall four and zero times.

Alison: So, you lived to forty?

Pin: *Clicks* Yes, that! I died when I was that!

Alison: (Must've been a common age for prehistoric humans to die?) Anyway, Favourite food?

Pin: Neck. I like neck. Everyone in tribe like bum most, but they not know that neck makes you smart. Neck closer to brain so neck make you smarter.

Alison: *whispering*...Oh, not this again...So, neck?... Any particular part of a neck?

Pin: All of it. Well, I did like chewy tough bit under the jaw, that part taste best when put over fire.

Alison: Okay. Favourite drink?

Pin: Only had water when I was alive. But did try Berry blood. Squeeze berries in hand and juice come out. But, shh, keep secret...

Alison: Why?

Pin: Others in tribe not figure that out before, they eat berries but they not figure out that berries can also become drink. Know why?

Alison: ... Why?

Pin: Cause me smart. Eat neck, you get smart too.

Alison... Alright then... Favourite sport?

Pin: Does chasing away rival tribe with spear count as sport?

Alison: If it involves a lot of running, then I guess, yes?

Pin: Then that. That my favourite.

Alison: Biggest regret?

Pin: Not getting to introduce my children to their Elder Fada. If they did, they would find him big fun.

Alison: I bet Robin- Rogh- would've been a good granddad.

Pin: Fada tell me that he did meet grandbabies but he already died when they born. When we go back to Moonah Ston, he see them then. But it not the same.

Alison: Yeah, that's sad. I'm really sorry. He tells me that you were still only a little girl when he died?

Pin: Nine handprints on cave wall when Fada die. Big young.

Alison: Mm...(took a small break and let Pin have a chat with Robin. It looked like she needed him for a moment)...Fondest memory?

Pin: Probilly (probably) when Fada put on head of Buffalo and scare mean boys from following me around calling me names. They scream like girls and run away big fast. Haha, they not mess with Pin or Fada again.

Alison: Good on him. Worst trait?

Pin: Was a ghost who fly up to Moonah years ago. He die from falling from top of house back when the roof was made of yellow, spikey grass (I'm assuming she means straw or hay, thatched roofing?). He used to tell me that I 'brag' too much. Dunno what that means, but what he know? I eat more neck than him, so I smarter than him.

Alison: Seems I'll have to do more research into the history of Barclay's house... Any words of wisdom?

Pin: Eat neck, drink berry juice, lift heavy rocks and be smart like me.

[razorblade180]

Back to it!

[Teapot]

Hu Tao:*kicks door open* Psst!

Yanfei:You can’t say “Psst!” After loudly opening a door.

Hu Tao: Nilou, Ayaka, Kokomi, wanna see something rare?

Ayaka:Rare?

Yanfei:!? Oh are they at it again?

Hu Tao:Yep! Caught me by surprise.

Yanfei:Alright you three. We’re going on a little field trip.

Nilou:*closes captain guide* I could use a break.

Kokomi:Is this one of those calming trips, or we’re suddenly stranded in Enkanomiya?

Yanfei:Oh I think you’ll like this.

[Inazuma Domain]

Kokomi:…*red* What can I say? You were right.

Hard at below them on a plateau was not just a few, but dozens of their teammates building houses, stands, and everything in between! Gorou carried palates of wood on his shoulder. Shenhe moved boulders around with Noelle; even Itto was helping stack logs of various wood. Then there were the likes of Zhongli and Venti raising materials up to people on roofs. This was just a few of man doing their part.

Yanfei:This is certainly grander than last time. There’s a whole work force!

Ayaka:I heard about this domain. Aether mentioned it a long time ago, but said it was far from ready. Guess he found the time.

Hu Tao:Kokomi if you stare any longer at your general you might start drooling. Aren’t you used to seeing him do manual labor.

Kokomi:Hush. This is different.

Yanfei:*points* Hu Tao, you can’t speak considering who’s down there.

Chongyun placed the final stack of bricks against a wall and the wooden support beams to the designated are. With a flushed face and sigh of relief, he wiped sweat of his forehead from his hard work, when a sudden breeze blew past him.

Chongyun:Hmm?

Hu Tao:*holding bottle* Parched?

Chongyun:Oh, thank you. *smiles*

Hu Tao:I was just in the area.

Kokomi:How’d she get done there so fast?

Yanfei:Hu Tao’s limits are a mystery to all. I’m just surprised she’s not handing out coupons for potential work related incidents.

Ayaka:I don’t see my brother down there. Actually, I’m a little shocked they didn’t ask for more help.

Kokomi:Do you know how to build a house?

Ayaka:Okay when you put it like that…

Nilou:They still need to eat though. Maybe we can make snacks.

Thoma comes walking out of one of this finished houses with a platter of sandwiches.

Thoma:I got cold cuts!

Ayaka:Ah, we stood no chance.

Nilou:I’ll take your work for it.

Yanfei:Keqing is probably planning the next site. Amber has to me marking all the spots for lumber, and as far as Aether goes…ah there he is.

The adventure is hard at with Kazuha and Tighnari sawing some plywood wood, before placing it on Albedo’s geo flower to raise it up to the second story. Aether walks away with Tighnari for a moment to a smile garden where they both use dendro to help some sprouts with Collei.

Itto:Yo boss man!

Aether:Coming!

Aether runs over to Itto, Noelle, and Shenhe who stand at each corner of raised, solid rock that would block the view of several windows. Aether stretched his wrist and focused on geo as the four of them run at land mass and obliterate it safely with a mighty strike. Though dirty and tired from the running around, Aether let’s put a hardy laugh with his friends at their teamwork.

Ayaka:You know I think I’m fine with watching from afar.

Nilou:Yeah it’s a nice view. Right Ko- uh Kokomi?

Kokomi:*down below* Who needs healing!?

Aether:Oh! Can you look at wrist?

Gorou:I’d like some aid as well!

Ayaka:Dang she doesn’t miss an opportunity.

Nilou:I’m gonna water the plants! *hops down*

Ayaka:…*looks at fan* Just a little breeze and-

Yanfei:Too dangerous.

Ayaka:I know. *slouches*

Yanfei:I feel the pain. We’ll sit in watch.

Ayaka:Okay…

Aether:*looks up* !? Oh hey you two! Can you find a blueprint chest? *holds map up* its in this area over-

Kokomi:They’re already gone.

Aether:*pulls map down* Oh you’re right. Well I’m sure they’ll get it.

Kokomi:Someone is gonna get hurt.

Aether:Why? I’m sure things will be fine.

Kokomi:Oh I’m not talking about them.

Aether:It could be a puzzle.

xxxxxx

Treasure Hoarders: Zzzz

Ayaka and Yanfei: *mischievous grin*

[mariacallous]

In 1992, when I was 10 years old, thousands of rockets were fired into Kabul. It started before the spring solstice, when we celebrated Persian new year, and carried on into winter. The siege forced my family to flee our home, never to return. We had hoped the fighting in Afghanistan would stop in 1989, after Soviet forces withdrew from their failed invasion. But our hope disappeared as US-funded mujahideen started fighting one another, bombarding Kabul in an attempt to seize control of the capital.

I was living with my family in the north-west part of the city, in a house with fading yellow paint on its outside walls. A red iron door with loud creaking hinges opened on to the outside world. I used to run out into the street to play with the other children in our neighbourhood. But the siege changed everything. I remember this as the time when all the time I knew disappeared – when bedtime, schooltime, playtime and dinnertime all vanished.

The simmering fear of violence that we had felt every day now turned into terror. Kabul was shelled relentlessly for months. Food and water became scarce. Each day, we received news of more deaths among our family, friends and neighbours. I lived in an extended family of several uncles and aunts and my granny, and it became our family ritual to pray for the dead before eating supper. My grandmother would lead the prayers. My four little siblings and I would follow, scared and confused by death. My heavily pregnant aunt looked numb, all expression drained from her, as if she needed reminding to move her arm and her hand to reach the food on the plate in front of her.

My mother, always anxious, made no effort to hide her terror. She would talk about different scenarios in which one or all of us would be killed. Who would take the injured child to the hospital, she would ask. Should it be my father, or would it be more prudent if he stayed behind and my uncle went? What would we do if our home was completely destroyed? Where would we go? How would we carry my uncle, who was disabled and couldn’t walk, if we had to run to another shelter? Logistics in the event of death were discussed extensively, roles assigned, plans made.

This was the time when our childhood changed. What we were previously told to do – stay off the flowerbeds, don’t climb that tree, do your homework – changed into instructions about how to avoid falling debris and keeping out of places where things could collapse on you. We had many specific instructions that had to be followed at all times. No walking near the walls in the garden. No sitting under the roof that connected the house to the outside kitchen. No leaving the house under any circumstances. And don’t forget to say your Shahadas when you hear the sound of rockets. These injunctions were repeated over and over again.

Instead of reading, which I loved to do, I learned other lessons. Like how perverse hope can be, when you’re crouching in the corner of a room waiting for a bomb to fall and kill you and your family. Hope in those moments when you’re waiting to be killed is dreadful. The belief in our own survival is so deep that even when confronted with a bomb, there is a small part of you that always keeps space for hope. But it feels like a trickster, a game of Russian roulette – you weren’t killed this time but someone you know was. Hope in those moments weaves confusion into your body, so that for years to come you find it hard to trust anything – including yourself.

I remember, in those moments when the rockets started, the dialogue that would play in my mind. There is the sound of a rocket being fired. Will it come for me? Will it tear my body apart? Could I live without a leg or an arm? Will I want to if I can’t climb the almond tree in our garden? Will I see the killing of my sister or brother? I hope I die first. If it’s a choice between watching those I love the most dying or being killed – I choose the latter. That would be mercy. When I was done bargaining, I would pray. I would twist my body into a posture I thought conveyed reverence and I would pray. My grandmother had taught me the prayers required for different times, like Ayatul Kursifor protection – I didn’t know all of it, just a few lines, and I would say them over and over again.

My grandmother taught me to say the Shahada the moment before death so we could pass to the other world whole and holy. I would say this seven times at least. We spoke Farsi and I didn’t understand the Arabic, so after saying the prayer, I would plead with God, asking him to keep us safe, hoping as hard as I could that God would come through for me – though I never quite believed that he would.

I avoided looking at certain members of my family in those moments. I couldn’t look at my mother because the sheer terror in her face broke my heart. I couldn’t look at my little sister and my little brother because somehow, I felt ashamed that this was their childhood. They were so little – five and seven years old – and everything I had been taught about right and wrong made me feel a searing shame that this was their childhood. I couldn’t look at my mother’s sister because she was the only one who expressed what we were all feeling. She would sob and cry as the sounds grew nearer. The only safe person for me to look at was granny, who would hold as many children as she could and cite the Qur’an patiently, only now and then stopping to implore my aunt to stop crying.

The rockets would stop as suddenly as they began. We would wait for a while before granny would start to move us from the back room, where we had been hiding, into the living room. When we could still buy food, she would produce a jar of honey and feed us children a spoonful, trying to wash the taste of terror out of our mouths. When the honey ran out, she would make sweet tea and we’d all drink it.

My uncle would start speculating about where the rockets could have hit. It sounded close, he would say. Could it be in Kululapushta, a couple of miles south, where his brother lived? Was he alive? Were his girls alive? That uncle had five daughters, and lately, when we had seen them, they had always been terrified. We would worry about them, because the way their house was built meant certain death if a rocket hit. They had nowhere safe to hide.

In the morning, news of the dead would begin to arrive. My uncle would cycle to the market to get food and water. Before leaving, he would say goodbye to all of us in case he got killed en route. He would wash as instructed by Islam so that if he was killed, he would be ready for it. For the time that he was gone, granny would pray. She would pray, and sometimes she would cry. It wasn’t frantic crying like my aunt’s, just a wave of sadness that came down as tears. I’d press up against her when she cried because I didn’t know what else to do.

My uncle cycled down the street that led to the school where my mother taught, now closed; passed the mosque, which was empty; and turned a corner where Tariq stationery shop once stood. The shop belonged to my mother’s cousin and was named after her son. We used to buy our pens and notebooks from there, but they had closed the shop and fled Afghanistan months before. He’d reach the market that just a few months earlier had been full of meats, vegetables and fruit, and try to find food. Only a few intrepid vendors were still working – the rest of the market had shut because the roads to Kabul were closed, and bombs were falling from the sky.

When he returned, there was an exhausted relief in our household. Sometimes, he brought food that would keep us going for a couple of days – potatoes, some sugar, a few vegetables. Other times, he would come back with no more than a few radishes. This was the only time granny would get frustrated. There was so little to feed us with, and it was her job to make sure that we didn’t starve. Her routine of baking bread and making delicious dinners was gone. The Hawasana days – as we called the days when we had special meals – had disappeared. There was a ritual to these meals that I loved. My favourite day was when she made mantu, delicate spiced lamb mince dumplings served with yoghurt and mint. She would start early in the morning, to make the dough and mince the meat. It took the whole family to fill the dumplings. We would sit around a large wooden table as my aunt cut little circles from the sheet of dough that granny had rolled, fill each one with meat and shape it with perfect precision. I used to always count mine on my plate to make sure I got as many as my siblings, and when I felt short-changed, granny would always give me one or two from her plate.

Now, everything was rationed, even the radishes and, most crucially, water. The children were told to ask an adult to pour a glass of water for them when they were thirsty, in case we lost our grip on the jug and wasted precious drops. When the adults went out, they would hear rumours from people in the market. People talked about what their neighbours were doing to survive. Before the siege, we used to save bits of bread that were mouldy and stale because they could be fed to livestock. With food shortages, people started buying and eating mouldy bread that they soaked in water and fed their children. My aunt would encourage us to eat whatever we had by retelling what she had heard from neighbours – so and so’s family are boiling bones three or four times and eating the broth with nothing else, she would say. They look like skeletons now. Eat your potatoes!

A while later, rumours began that parents had started to feed their children rat poison because they couldn’t bear to watch them starve. I’d go to bed and have vivid nightmares about being put to bed with a cuddle, never to wake up. I’d wonder, would my parents do such a thing? And then I’d decide that granny wouldn’t let it happen.

I learned that being killed was better than being injured or maimed. Hospitals in Kabul were overflowing with the injured and those nearly dead. I am not sure what happened to the sick then. I heard stories of people dying from shrapnel in their face, or in their groin – about deaths that lasted days. I heard of people bleeding out after a limb had been blown off, of children dying in their parents’ arms, with arms and legs missing. I heard of women giving birth as they were dying from their injuries – babies born just as their mothers were bleeding to death from a shrapnel wound.

There was no electricity. Our Friday night ritual of watching a Bollywood film disappeared. Fridays were the day of rest in Afghanistan. They would start with my father and uncles going to Friday prayers. On their way back they would bring a treat or two – sweets or popcorn. We would eat our family meal and wait for the film to start. The films were love stories in which the lovers always triumphed despite many, often ridiculous obstacles – even if they were murdered, they would be reincarnated, avenge their deaths, and reunite. I imagined growing up and meeting a boy who would be as mad about me as those lovers in Bollywood films. Now the TV sat silent in the corner of the room.

Darkness itself became a monster. I started having nightmares about monsters after hearing the rat poison rumours. Monsters that were made of tar with red eyes would emerge from the blackness of the night to devour children. I’d wake up so terrified I couldn’t scream. In those nights when Kabul had no electricity, I’d feel for my granny’s papery hands under the sheets. Hold my hand, hold my hand, I would whimper. She always would, pulling me to her, holding my forehead and reciting the Qur’an.

When our neighbour’s house got hit, everything went black. I was in the room where we always hid, closing my ears and eyes. The sound of a rocket hitting a solid object enters your body and lives there for ever. To this day, a loud bang brings back that child who clenched her jaw as the rocket hit our street, waiting for the shrapnel to cut into her body, for blood to gush and bones and skin to fly.

Days later, when there was a moment of calm, we went to visit our neighbour. The house had been badly damaged. The rocket had torn through one side of the wall and had shattered all the windows. The house was quiet, which felt odd and sinister. Usually, Afghan households were loud and full of chatter. The family were sitting around as all Afghan families did, sipping tea and eating dried fruit. Their youngest son was lying in the corner of the living room, injured, with yellowing skin and bandages. He looked as if he was daydreaming, his eyes fixed to the ceiling. I felt nauseous, and despite wanting to go over to sit with him and play with him, I just couldn’t. Something deep in my small body knew that he was dying. I didn’t want to be near him. I wondered if death could be contagious. If I touched him, would I be next? When he died, they didn’t hold a funeral. People were killed when burying their dead in the cemetery. They buried him in their garden in a tiny child-shaped grave.

A month or so before we finally fled our home, on one day in August 1992, 1,000 rockets were fired on Kabul, on to the homes of ordinary people. I don’t have much memory of this time, only what remains in my body – the pain and the tension – and the feelings of terror that sometimes rise up as if from nowhere. I do remember the silence between the falling shells. All other sounds had disappeared. I couldn’t hear any birds, or chatter on the streets or the sound of rain – just the swoosh of the rocket, the bang of the explosion. And then: silence.

Each time a rocket hit, a child was killed. I would hear about the death of my classmates, neighbours – children we knew. Children that once ran up the street flying a kite, playing hide and seek and hopscotch (my favourite) – all gone. The joy of climbing a tree, the mischief, the tantrums, asking for chips at every meal – gone. Not a trace left of loving the colour blue.

Because I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to murder children, I started to make up stories in my head. Before the siege we visited holy shrines to make offerings for Sufi saints. Everyone would bring sweets, and my four siblings and I would run around trying to eat as many sweets as we possibly could. My aunt would try to stop us by warning us that if we angered the saint, he would come for us.

What if the children had angered the saints, and now we were paying for our sins with our flesh? What penance could make it stop? Was it because I lied about doing my homework? Was it because I made fun of my little sister and made her cry? Or maybe it was because I stole the chocolates that were meant for Eid and ate them secretly? I would recount every sin and ask for forgiveness. I didn’t know what had brought on this calamity, I just knew I wanted it to end.

Seeing the children of Gaza under siege brings all of this back. I have spent my whole life coming to terms with growing up in violence, when I was made to learn that children are fodder for war – “collateral damage”, according to the people who talk endlessly about war on TV. My life has been an endless search for the humanity that my granny believed in till the very end. “How terrified and vengeful are the men who kill children?” she would say quietly, as if asking herself. I hear that question today.

Children bear the brunt of war. Working as a humanitarian on the Syrian border in 2014, I saw injuries caused by the barrel bombs that were dropped on civilians day after day. The barrels were packed with nails, shrapnel and oil. The injuries were horrific. Children were killed by nails that pierced their skull or oil that burned them alive. Between 2011 and 2021, a child was killed or injured every eight hours on average in Syria. In Iraq and Ukraine, cluster bombs dropped by the US and Russia kill children long after they have been dropped or fired. These illegal weapons are designed by people who want the bombs to remain dormant until they are ready to kill again, usually children who pick them up. I now know that there are no monsters in the dark. Only adults who are terrified enough to kill.

The feeling that someone wants you dead never quite goes away. It lives in your body as an alarm reminding you that the world is dangerous and unfriendly. It colours every new interaction – you learn forensic vigilance when entering a new place. The question – will this kill me? – is playing on a loop in your subconscious, only sometimes floating to the surface and shocking you out of your day to day existence.

War has the same impact on children, no matter where they are born. I began to understand this after a beloved teacher whose father was one of the first soldiers to liberate Auschwitz gave me Anne Frank’s diary. I recognised the same dialogue in her thoughts as she hid from the people that wanted her dead. She wondered just as I had about who was inflicting such cruel violence and why. Reading her entries, I lived through her bargaining and her attempt to make sense of a world that didn’t value children’s lives, a world that dehumanised her so that she could be killed.

I founded a charity, Amna, in 2016, to help children recover from the trauma of war. Working with refugee children in Greece, I saw the same terror and confusion that I felt when living through war. I’ll always remember a little Kurdish girl in one of the play groups that I ran at a camp in northern Greece. She was seven or eight years old – the same age as my sister when we fled from Kabul. She was so scared that she had stopped speaking. She was scared of other children. She was scared of the adults in the room. Even when I offered her a toy she would wince and hide behind her mother. She remained speechless for months, until the care she received in group therapy made her feel safe enough to reach for a toy. Still tentative, still scared, she held the soft toy carefully away from her face as if following instructions of her own.

War confuses people, especially the adults who wage them. They get lost in technicalities and self-deception, the desire to be righteous in their pain and victimhood, no matter what the cost. As a child it was so clear to me what needed to be done. I would get angry after each experience of hiding from the shells. I didn’t understand it then, but there was such intelligence in my anger. It didn’t manifest as a desire for revenge or the need to make me or my family into victims who couldn’t recover our life or our humanity. It came out as a resolute demand that played over and over in my 10-year-old head, and has echoed ever since: stop killing children.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Deep Down (Indruck)

The winner of the "mer society" prompt poll was: Cultural differences between surface mers and deep-ocean mers. Duck is based on a Senator Wrasse and Indrid is based on a Gulper Eel). This fic is NSFW and contains mentions of ovipostion, but none actually occurs.

How can anyone live down here?

Duck disembarks the VertoSphere miles below where he’s ever stopped before. It opens into an abyss, so dark and empty he fears he set his coordinates too low and now he’s hovering above the Marianas trench. 

He swims forward and bumps into something solid. A wall of glass coral. At his impact, a familiar an unexpected voice floats from a recording above him.

“Hello. This is Vincent Mullidae, head of transportation and Security for the Greater Pacific Region. Welcome to the Midnight Zone. If you are a resident, please feel free to draw the open symbol and be on your way. If you are visiting, please float by for more instructions.”

Duck sets the two, woven bags he’s brought with him on the floor and waits. 

“If you know the name of your destination, please state it now.”

“Uh, Indrid Cold’s house?”

A pause, then yellow and pink pinpoints of light flicker in the water beyond the glass, “This color indicates the route to that residence. If at any time the lights go out, you lose your path, or you need to change course, use the tablet provided before your departure to locate the direction. It is advised that any mers unfamiliar with the area stay on the lighted paths at all times. Are you ready to proceed?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Nothing happens. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Thank you for traveling with the Pacific Municipal Vertosphere System, and enjoy your stay.”

The glass parts and he swims into the unknown. It’s a relief to find that the lamps lighting his path cast a wide circle in spite of their gentle glow. 

He’s not a kid. He knows that the stories about deep sea mers lurking at the edges of trenches or the border where the light stops reaching just to drag unsuspecting sunlight mers down to do who knows what with are made up. Relics from a time when mers had shittier communication and couldn’t travel between the levels of the ocean to get to know each other. All the same, it’s hard not to see tails flicking just out of view, or imagine that the other lights he sees–mainly pathways and store fronts, now that he’s closer to the town of Sylvain–are lures meant to coax him to his doom. 

Plus he’s pretty sure there are still some big-ass sharks and squids down here.

Now and then another path flickers to life, but as he understands it the local mers don’t really need the illumination to see, since they long ago adapted eyes that could pierce the darkness. It’s both useful and comforting when another path appears–each one in a different combination of colors–since it reassures him that he’s not down here all alone and also gives him a sense of the basic layout of the town. 

It turns out his host lives on the end of it, and he swims up to a sea cave with an oddly rectangular opening. He raises a hand to knock at the wooden door, clearly salvaged from a wreck, when a face appears in the porthole.

“Ah, Duck Newton. Welcome” The door opens, revealing a mer with a long, black tail dotted with a line of silver dots along the top. These match his hair, which is half tied out of his face, giving Duck an unobstructed view of his glowing, red eyes and face that reminds him of sharp, pale coral. He’s a good head taller than Duck; unsurprising, given that deep mers tend to be larger than those who live in the sunlight zone. 

“Please, come in. Apologies if I gave you a start, I can see the future, which means I’m always a little bit ahead. I did manage to get your room ready before you arrived; as you can see my home isn’t large, but I hope it will be to your liking.”

“Long as it’s got four walls and a roof, we’re good. I stayed some pretty bare-bones places doin’ field work.”

The other mer pauses, “Do sunlight mers also make homes from bones?”

“Uh, not usually? More like decorations or jewelry, since anything real big dies or falls down here. Mostly meant that I stayed places that weren’t much more than a glorified hole.”

“Ah, I follow. Here we are.” The mer gestures to another wooden door. Duck opens it to find a simple, seagrass bed, rock shelves for all his supplies, and plenty of lights nestled into the walls. There’s also a mosaic on the ceiling, shells and bone and debris from human wrecks cobbled together into a stunning,swirling pattern.

“Wow. You make that?”

“I did. I wanted my guest room to feel welcoming.”

“Mission accomplished.” He swims in and sets his bags by the bed. 

Indrid trills in thanks, and several points of light flash blue at the end of his tail. Duck doesn’t mean to stare, but he’s never seen a light display before. The deep mers he’s met in the past were always up in his realm, where such flashes either weren’t necessary or were easy to miss. 

“A rather odd place for it, I know. I do have these, but they only light up on command, not automatically.” The silver spots on his tail disappear as a row of feathery spines rise, “although these have the benefit of being slightly poisonous if something bites them or I pull one off and jab it into them.”

“Yeesh, you ever had to do that?”

“A handful of times. Mainly to other mers when I was younger and the deep was less…settled. It isn’t permanent, it just induces sluggishness for long enough for me to swim off.”

“Wow. Mers back home will just grapple if they’re really pissed over something, but most of the time you just gotta tell them to back off and they will.”

“Then I shall make a mental note not to wrestle you.” Indrid smiles, suggesting he means this as small talk, “I have some errands to attend to, but please make yourself at home. Anything in the kitchen can be shared.”

“Got it. Thanks, Indrid.”

The other mer swims towards the hall, then pauses, “Oh, and do not go beyond town once a string of red lights to the left of the house turns on. That means the giant anglers are about. It happens once a week or so. Well, see you soon!”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone he told was surprised Indrid had agreed to host a sunlight mer. None were half as surprised as he’d been when the futures suggested it was a good idea. 

A corps of them has been sent down to study various parts of the deeper ecosystems over the course of five months. Indrid fully believes in cooperation between deep and sunlight mers, and has traveled upward on more than one occasion to lend his services as seer. But those trips involved very little contact with sunlight mer society more generally, and even with Duck having been here a few days, Indrid still fears he’ll be too awkward or alien and the other mer will request a new host. 

It doesn’t help that he’s been called weird by other deep mers. It’s not his fault that his tail wiggles that way when he’s extremely happy, or that certain fish down here are too gelatinous for his tongue and he’ll refuse them rather than seize any meal that goes by. And he doesn’t mean to have odd manners; it’s just hard to remember all the rules of interaction when he sees others so infrequently. Even with a town in place, many deep mers venture into the sea beyond for weeks at a time. 

The first week of Duck’s stay is going well, but he remains nervous no matter how kind and polite his guest is. But today, Duck asked him if he was willing to guide him to an area where certain, dark-loving anemones grow. 

They’ve found the spot with little issue, and Duck is now flitting from rock to rock with understated delight. 

“Lookit the shape of the base. I wonder if that helps ‘em..hmm, if I can just” he peers at where it's anchored to the stone, “no, ain’t that. Hmmm” As he swims to another outcropping he stops, looking at Indrid, “do you need to go back? Don’t bother me none if you stay but me starin at plants ain’t the most exciting thing in the sea.”

“I’d like to stay. I find it rather peaceful out here.” He settles on a rock as Duck nods and gets back to work. He sorts through some futures, lets his mind wander, but mostly he watches Duck move from spot to spot with a growing desire to see his tail in full sunlight; the green is doubtless dazzling.

“Oh damn, Indrid come look at these!”

He swims over to find Duck shining his penlight on a cluster of pale, swaying shapes. 

“Ghost seahorses! I know we have them but I never manage to spot them.”

“Looks like the anemone let’s ‘em live on it. So fuckin’ cool” he makes notes into his recording shell, then waves Indrid over to ask him if that rock is supposed to be glowing (it’s not, it’s an orange spitfish in disguise).

They spend enough hours talking, or simply working and watching in companionable silence, for them both to become ravenously hungry. Once they arrive back at the house, Indrid sets out crab for dinner while Duck puts away his supplies. 

“Any chance we could turn the heat up? Think the spot we were in all day was in a colder current than usual.” Duck rubs his arms to warm them as Indrid turns the knob to draw in more heat, once again grateful for whichever of his peers figured out they could guide steam up from the deepest ocean vents to heat their homes when needed. 

They’re chatting about Duck’s youthful misadventures hanging out in abandoned human piers when a shape catches his eye through one of the only other windows in the house. He puts a finger to his lips and takes Duck’s hand, guiding him over to the window. He presses a button, sending deep red light across the rocky alcove, allowing Duck to see what he does without scaring away their visitor.

“Holy fuck, I didn’t know umbrella octopuses could be black.” Duck moves closer to the glass.

“As far as I can tell it’s rather rare. I started seeing one this color years ago, and left out food to entice it and other tentacled friends to visit. They are not long lived, so I suspect this one is the offspring of the one I saw when I first moved in.”

“Thanks for lettin’ me see him too.” The other mer glances at him, smile warming him more than a dozen trips sunward. 

“My pleasure.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------

Duck’s packing up a box of recording shells to send up to the researchers who stayed in the sunlight zone when there’s an argument at the door. Poking his head into the hall, he sees Indrid’s tail flickering orange and red. 

“For the last time, if you want predictions that complex, you have to bring payment with you. The contingencies alone will take me hours to sort through.”

“Fine” The voice at the door snaps, “I’ll bring you something. Keep your tail here until I do.”

Duck bristles at the tone; no one deserves to be spoken to like that, least of all someone as captivating as Indrid. 

“What was all that?” He swims to the door as Indrid leans against it, arms crossed. 

“A party of mers are going out in search of a giant squid. I assume to sell to humans or to eat. They want my help but keep trying to get out of paying for it.”

“Can’t you just take an IOU? Back home we do that all the time, figuring folks are good for it. Or you do a favor knowin’ they’ll do one for you down the road.”

“I wish it worked like that, but deep mers are still so prone to limited interactions with each other it is hard to trade favors. And an IOU is useless when so many of us are content to disappear into the abyss rather than make a home somewhere.”

“Makes sense. You want me to catch dinner so you can wait for ‘em?”

“Please.”

Duck picks up some crabs–Indrid and he both like them, and he happens to know these ones are pests if you live in a house made of wood, bone, or both–and returns to find Indrid dragging something white through the front door. 

“Is that-”

“-whalebone? Yes. And big enough that we can throw out that uncomfortable bench in the main room and replace it with this.”

It’s a good idea. Besides, then Indrid could paint or carve into the bone, really make it nice and, and…

And Duck should stop thinking about that. About staying. About this being his home, too. Eventually he’ll have to go sunwards again. So he should just enjoy his time with Indrid while he has it. 

—----------------------------------------------------

“Inside! Get back inside!”

Duck reverses course, backing into the house as Indrid comes barreling towards him. The instant the other mer is in, he slams the door and hurriedly swims to each window.

“What’s-”

“-Biting shrimp, an entire migration of them. And worse, after that subsides three days from now, we have two days of red devil squid to look forward to.”

Duck shudders, “Those come up sometimes to feed and I fuckin hate ‘em. One nearly took a chunk of my tail.”

“Hence my absence this morning and my hasty arrival; I had to warn as many neighbors as I could before the swarm began. Ugh!” He flinches as the first few shrimp hit the windows, “I hate them, the biting is bad enough but they crawl all over you and I HATE how their little feet feel–no don’t open that!”

“I won’t let ‘em in to crawl on you.” Duck opens the side window enough to reach his hand out and grab the black octopus, who wriggles in alarm until he releases it inside.

“Oh. You…you wanted to save Void. I mean, ah-”

“I know you named him, ‘Drid. Heard you talkin’ to him the other day. His kind ain’t feisty, and it’d break my fuckin heart to look out that window and see a squid get him.”

Indrid’s tail flashes light purple, “Thank you. I am sorry, I was hoping your time down here would be pleasant but alas, the sea had other plans. We have more than enough food, so hopefully it will not drive you mad to spend five days stuck in the house with me.”

Duck can tell when a joke isn’t a joke, and so he swims close enough to brush his tail along Indrid’s, “I like your company plenty, ‘Drid. Besides, this ain’t all that worse than seabird season; can be minding’ your own business and then BAM, something dives after a fish and smacks into you instead.”

“Goodness, that would be startling. Even for me.”

“My buddy Ned got one tangled in his hair once.” Duck moves to the dinner table, “wanna play Ten Shells before dinner?”

“Oooh, yes please!”

The first two days don’t feel all that strange. He and Indrid eat their meals and play games and listen to books or nap, often side by side. But by day three his body and brain register that he’s been cooped up instead of out in the kelp forests and reefs (or the crags and open ocean, as the case has been these last few months). Sensing his restlessness, Indrid pulls a surprise from the pantry. 

“Coconut wine? Damn, how’d you get this?”

“A friend of mine who’s a cook. He likes to send me care packages since moving upwards.”

Indrid’s bedroom is the most insulated from the sounds of the shrimp hitting the house, so they’ve taken to spending a lot of time there, safe from the skitter of thousands of feet. Void floats after them, in search of either kelp snacks or new items to take apart or squeeze inside of. 

The wine goes down easy, so easy that when Indrid suggests they open another bottle Duck is all for it. By the time his tablet shows its sunset on the surface, he and Indrid are well past tipsy, trading stories of their younger days and travels. 

“You, y’know, a, a buddy of mine swore he took a summer trip and hooked up with a deep mer that had six eyes and, and six dicks.”

Indrid laughs, “Claiming both is, hic, rather a stretch. I’ve known, hic, a few with four eyes but, hic, never six.”

“What about the dicks?”

“A gentlemer never, hic, tells.”

“Aww, c’mon.” Duck rolls so his head is on Indrid’s shoulder, “always wondered if, if deep mer fuckin’ s’wild as they say.”

“Mmm” Indrid rubs their cheeks together, “because every–hic–one knows sunshine mers only kiss in the clear blue water and, hic, mate after marriage.”

Duck giggles, “Pfft, naw. Get up to plenty of wild stuff. Just, y’know, when you’re all sixteen and shootin the shit, someone always talks ‘bout a friend of a friend who got carried off by a deep mer and came back swimmin’ funny or with bites. Or didn’t come back at all ‘cuz the deep mer was so horny it kept ‘em.”

“Goodness” Indrid’s tail flashes deeper and deeper purple, “we don’t do that. No, hic, no matter how fun it sounds. Unless you, hic, think it sounds scary. Then it’s scary and I’d, hic, never do it.”

Duck nestles closer, blushing “Definitely jerked it a few times thinkin’ about it. And if it were you…wouldn’t be scared of you. Couldn’t be.”

Indrid trills softly, tail a pale blue, “I would never want you to be. No matter how fun it sounds to hunt you.’

“Thought you didn’t eat us.” He teases. 

His friend yawns, then curls his tail beneath him, “Some deep mers prefer quick mating, hic, sessions. But others prefer to draw them out, to chase each other down once they’ve agreed to, hic, be together. Both come are holdovers from when it was much harder to find others in the, hic, dark depths. I always preferred the hunt.”

“Let you hunt me anytime, darlin.”

A gentle purr as Indrid takes his hand, “Let’s let the wine wear off first. Then we can talk about it.” 

Duck snuggles in for a nap, “S’fine by me.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a long talk and what felt like an even longer wait, Duck floats in the main room, realizing just how much a courtesy Indrid did him by keeping the lights on all the time. Because with them all off he can’t see more than a few inches in front of him. 

He swims forward, unnerved by the fact he has no idea where the other mer is; the house isn’t that big, and Indrid isn’t small. So where the fuck is he?

“My, my. Whatever is a little ray of sunshine doing down here?”

Duck spins to his left in time to see glowing red eyes appear in the darkness, accompanied by a possessive, green flash of the tail. 

“I, I don’t mean no harm. I was out for a swim and I got turned around and with all those squid around I had to find shelter.”

“I see…” The red eyes move closer, “and you’re not at all here because you’re a nosy little thing who wanted a peek at some big, scary, deep mers?”

“No” he gasps as Indrid’s tail coils around the base of his own.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you what happens to sweet, warm sunlight mers who wander too far from home?”

“N-nope” He shivers as Indrid’s tail loops tighter. Is it really so much longer than his?

“Then allow me to enlighten you: it is a lonely life down here. My own kind prefer to move, never settling in one place, which makes, shall we say, courtship? Difficult. Which is why some of us like to find a foolhardy mer who swam further than they should and keep them as nice, soft toy. Or place to lay, if that’s one’s preference.”

“It ain’t!” It’s more of a squeak than he means it to be, but all the same he wrenches his tail free and swims as fast as he can away from Indrid. This doesn’t get him very far, and he pretends not to know where the bedroom doors are as Indrid rounds the corner after him. The other mer hits a rock on the wall as he does this, bringing enough light to the space to reveal himself. 

If Duck really was minding his own business and turned to see that rushing towards him, he’d be terrified. 

As it is, the most he can manage is a moan as Indrid catches him with his arms and tail. 

“Such a rude guest, running away from the one who gave you shelter.” He plucks a spine from his tail and jabs it into Duck’s own. It doesn’t hurt, but Duck thrashes to keep up appearances. 

“What the fuck was that?”

“Some insurance against you running off again. It’s not as if I need you mobile for this.”

Duck’s tail is barely strong enough to keep him afloat, his arms feel heavy, and his brain is foggy, meaning it feels like a slow-motion dream as Indrid pulls him in for a kiss. It’s shockingly gentle given the context, and even the little nip to the corner of his mouth as Indrid pulls away feels sweet. 

“Much better. Come along.” Indrid carefully guides him into his bedroom, pausing as they reach the pile of seagrass that he nests in, “sweet one? Are you certain you’ll be able to respond if it becomes too much?”

“Uh huh” Duck pets his face, “feel a little loopy, but I’m all here.”

A relieved smile turns sharp, “Good. Now let me see what I have to look forward to.” He pushes Duck onto the bed, curling their tails together as his fingers tease the sensitive patch of scales near Duck’s belly. Duck whimpers as they ripple open, revealing his slit and several short, flexible tendrils on all sides of it.

“Oooh!” Indrid trills, tail wiggling even as it holds Duck in place, “you sunlight mers, every part of you is so welcoming.”

“Fuck you.” He gasps as Indrid sinks his teeth into his shoulder. The pain doesn’t let up until he actually cries out. 

“Now, now, don’t fuss.” Indrid grins, “If you behave I will have no need to do that again. Here is what will happen. I am going to try you out, and if I enjoy myself, I will keep you.”

“I, uh, I ain’t gonna, I won’t, uh, fuck.

“It doesn’t matter if you enjoy it. I just said it was for me.” a hungry purr, “and how could I do anything but enjoy myself, with a lovely thing such as you?” Indrid moves a hand down his tail, gripping the base of the cock emerging from his slit. It’s thicker at the bottom than at the tip, though there are two short protrusions on the tip, giving it the appearance of horns. Two rows of bumps run along the bottom, which is a new one for Duck. 

He tries to back away but the combination of Indrid’s grip and the poison make it impossible. All he can do is lay there as Indrid slides in with a low, possessive trill. 

“Nnnnf, oh you are wonderful. So warm, so soft” he digs his fingers into Duck’s belly, “I, I do not know why any of you waste your time up there, when clearly all you were meant for is being willing holes for mers with far harder lives.”

“No, no we’re not.”

Indrid thrusts harder, “‘We?’ Not ‘I’? Interesting. Maybe you did come down here just for this.”

“Uh uh, I didn’t, I FUCK” he moans as the horns at the tip of the dick begin moving on their own.

“Do you like them? They double as ovipositors. Right now they’re, ah, investigating to see if you’re the right place. Ohoh it seems you like that.” Indrid grins triumphantly as Duck’s tendrils coil around the base of his cock.

Duck nods, too overwhelmed by the feeling of Indrid inside him, of their tails twined together, to keep up the ruse of resistance. 

“Good. Now, let me see, if they’re positioned like that…”

“AHFUCK” Duck clings to Indrid’s biceps as he fucks him harder, the motion functionally jerking the tendrils off, “fuck yeah, that’s it’s darlin.”

“Oh I’m darling now, am I? I like the sound of that.” He nibbles Duck’s neck, “such nice manners you have up there.”

“‘Drid, please, please I’m gonna cum if you keep doin’ that.”

“That’s rather the point. Well, that and fill you so full you never doubt who you belong to now. But no laying today, I think. We can do that later. It’s not as if you’ll be going anywhere, my lovely little cocksleeve.”

Duck cums with a groan, the sensation heightened by the fact the rest of his body can do little but twitch as it races through him. Indrid pounds into his limp body with a triumphant snarl, tail and spines flashing blue and purple as he cums in him with a trill.

They roll onto their sides, in no hurry to separate, and Indrid coats his face in slow, loving kisses until Duck drops it onto his shoulder. 

“Satisfied, sweet one?”

“Fuck yeah. Sleepy too, but I can’t tell how much is from you stabbing me or you just wore me out.”

“Technically both are stabbings.”

Duck snorts a laugh and headbutts his shoulder. 

There’s nothing but the faint sound of Void playing with a puzzle cube until Indrid murmurs, “I wish you could stay forever.”

“Me too. And maybe I could, someday. Or maybe you could stay with me.”

“Dearest, your trip ends in two months.”

“So? Don’t even take twenty minutes from here to home in the VertoSphere. We could visit each other whenever we want. There’s some places up there I’m dyin’ to show you. If, uh, if you want.”

Indrid cuddles closer, purring, “You would truly let a deep mer be your partner.”

Duck kisses his nose, “Hell yeah I would.”