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punk-in-docs · 4 months ago

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A song of liars and beggars: part II

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 5.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter; mainly violence and cruelty and mentions of death/imprisonment. also this has turned long winded im so sorry- i wish i could just bang out some gratuitous smut but noooo i need 7k of angst before penetration apparently --

The cell you are thrown into is poky small.

When the guards push you into it, you stumble and you fall. Stone breaks your landing. Collapsing in the dusty dirt. Soiling your pretty blue dress. The sea blue churned into mud. Into filth. Spoiled tide.

Bloody grit and sand sticking to your chin that still drips blood. Ichor dripped on your silk chest. Lip throbbing. Body bruised into the colour of nightshade petals.

You twist back, eyes blurred with tears, to see the dark expression under the Roman guards helmet.

Who spits at your feet and calls you a traitorous whore. He was the same one whose ring of fingertip bruises now circled your upper arm. Even though you were in chains.

Your surroundings are grim. There’s no window. No bearings. A bucket with filthy stagnant water sits in the corner.

The air is stale. Packed close and scorching. It reeks of piss and decay. Necrosis. Festering. Yellow bleached skulls. You hear the wailing shouts of men. The rattle of chains. You will be left down here until they come to take you. In whatever form that may be. Beheading. Or a stoning.

Maybe the Emperors really are gods. Those twin golden growling wolves. And now they’ve thrown you down to the underworld. Left you down here with the dying and the dirt and the vermin for company.

The walls are grimy stone, and strung with chains. Torches the only lick of civilised orange light in these otherwise miserable caverns. Rats creep along the floors - the scurry and click of claws. Not that they’ll find any scrap of food near here. There’s none to be had. Not even corpses. Death isn’t merciful enough to visit here.

Bile coats the back of your tongue. Sour and acetic. The men in the cells opposite you m, sneer and call filthy propositions in the dark. Dark so thick it was like wool. Ask to see under your pretty dress. Leering at you. Puckering kisses.

You are a rare drop of clean ocean in this savagery to them. Pure. A blue crocus blossoming in a crack in the barren dessert. Wash away the sin. Their rotten teeth shine in the dark like knives. Hungry and waiting.

You curl into a ball in the corner. Bring your knees to your chest. Cower in the shadows as the rats run past your feet. Clammy tails flicking over your toes.

You sob quietly. Arms folded. One smashed elbow drying to sticky blood, stuck with grit from your collapse.

Your father was torn away before you could see what happened or where they took him. You heard his shouts at Macrinus, his begging, but couldn’t see where he was taken. You couldn’t bear thinking about the alternative.

Your brothers body will be laying in a paupers grave somewhere you’ll never know. Never be able to go and lay orange gladiolus flowers before his headstone. Forgotten. Your mother will be told nothing of this- of you. Of the supposed treason-

Or maybe a garrison of soldiers were already marching on their way to deliver news. To slaughter the traitors family in that white villa by the sea. Smear crimson up the walls- droplets of red splashed on the jasmine petals. You think of the linen shifts your sisters ramble around in. You think how the perfect hues of soft blues and olives greens will be ruined with the garish red of blood-

You squeeze your eyes shut. Drops of salty ocean squeezing down your cheeks. And even that is of no use to you now. Landed sea nymph. Away from the oceans call. And now you’re bound for desolation. Gasping. Dying. Dragged to land by men who want to pick at your scales and leave you raw, bare.

You never should’ve left home. Not for a distant hollow man and his even emptier words.

Sleep doesn’t come to you. Nor are you awake. You slouch, curled on the cold dirty floor and envelop yourself into the grit and dirt. Abrasive on your soft milk-and-honey skin. The cornflower blue of your dress matted with mucky earth.

You enter a state between waking and sleep. A shallow one, spliced with sliced necks, pooling blood on biscuit coloured sand, and your brothers final cry.

Sounds start chipping at you. The slap of metal. Clicking and shuffling steps.

A jolt across your cell rouses you from your purgatory. Head snapping up on your shoulders. When you accustomed your eyes to the dim, the sight of the person unlocking your cell, makes your stomach plummet.

General Acacius.

There’s no mistaking him for another. That unmistakably noble profile. The firm set of his brow. His aquiline nose. The curl and bend of his greying hair. The way he looks at you - it might just be the kindest thing you’ve been awarded in this abrasive hell you find yourself in.

You raise to your wobbly feet. Heart felt like it had taken to thudding in your throat. Choking tempo as it beats there. Muscle thick and ticking on the back of your tongue.

One thought echoed around your mind; this was to be the path to your death.

You were being led by the General of the armies of Rome. It seemed a grand imposition for escorting a mere slip of a traitor to her death.

War has thickened his body. Muscular arms swing from a wide back and shoulders. Sun weathered skin which spoke of his time out in the elements, fighting for the glories and victories of Rome. Age lay in the silver threaded though his hair. The muted pain in his gait of past injuries catching up with him. Body littered with scars that probably ache and tug. Mars made flesh. Glory for Rome. Victory.

You swallowed. Throat dry. Easing your way to the door on uncertain feet. Hands clasped in chains still. They feel heavy as mountains to carry along. He’s come with guards. Four of them. Armed and marching to the beat of his strides. A valorous man indeed.

You step close to the heavily armoured man. Salty tears leaking down your cheeks that you don’t care to bat away. Atleast one spec of home will cling to your skin when life is gone. Even if it is only your silly scared tears.

He leans close to you when you come to the door

Suddenly a warm hand - calluses and hard furrows that only come from years of grasping a sword hilt - is around your forearm to steady. He unlocks the iron heavy chains and cuffs that surround your wrists. The chafing welts they left circling your wrists as the only impression of your imprisonment.

It’s the kindest touch you’ve felt in what seems like years.

You look at him with incredulity. He claims it all off you so easily. You were easy to devour. Every emotion worn open on your face.

Your lashes glued together with tears. Eyes so wide. Big and shining and they must reflect spring sun off beaded waves like a blanket of sapphires. A question lingers, tucked back shyly behind your teeth. Unable to wander off the curl of your tongue.

Why are you unlocking my hands?

He tilts his head at you. It’s almost chiding.

An unexpected warmth flows from his dark eyes. It’s too dark down here in this filthy stuffy pit to discern their colour. They swing somewhere between bronze and amber.

There is a mercy in them, a mercy to him, you’ve seldom seen anywhere else. Let alone a man as slaked in blood as he is.

Maybe it’s mercy- more likely that it’s pity.

He throws the shackles aside to the guard. Eyes for a long moment the way the iron has cut into your wrists. Raw skin. Damaging such a fine beautifully untouched creature.

He’s certain there’s worse damage to come to you.

His voice when he speaks is honey thick. Deep as it carved down all the rock walls around you. Louder than the clanking of chains and the wails from prisoners. Whom, you noticed, suddenly quieted down. They were whipped when they spoke up, you guess. So they go quiet. Like cowed dogs.

“I’ve slaughtered many a traitor in my time. You don’t seem a danger to me, or my men.” He observed. It’s both a warning and a comment.

It’s ridiculous really. The thought you could be a threat. All slippery, skin soft and coveted as a purely formed ocean pearl.

When you are in fact shivering in a silky thin dress the colour of harmless cornflowers. Huddled in your cell corner gently spilling tears. No hint of resistance or fiery hatred. No storm to be found here in your veins that houses entire oceans and their tempestuous wrath.

He knows innocence when he sees it. That rare, very rare, taste that clings to his tongue like sugary sweet ripe fruit. Something to cut and slice through all the ichor and viscera he all too well knows the flavour of. There’s a calmness to you. A damned sort of acceptance. Calm as still waters.

“Come.” He tilts his head. “The likes of you doesn’t belong down here.” You with your stock of noble blood, shouldn’t perish forgotten in these filthy caverns.

He walks to the pathway that you vaguely recall you were led down. The one that ascends steps and up into daylight. Out from the dust and the dirt and the still living bones of the trapped and the damned.

“General. Pray tell me. Is my father dead?” You ask. Whisper a pathetic imitation of your voice. Raw and weak. Choking on the unknown.

His face is stiff. He doesn’t seem inclined to reply.

“I cannot give you answers.” He chides. He turned his back to you. And his brute tone slaughtered any further enquiry you may have felt compelled to make.

You shrink down as you fell into step. Being led in your dirty dress, littered in cuts and scrapes.

Numerous guards form a metal lined wall around and behind you. Shields and swords and the metal clink of their steps. Trapping you. Armoured cage for a pretty captive. You wince when the new sunlight hits your eyes. Bright and acidic. Gulp for thick air that meets your lungs like ambrosia.

You walk and follow, silently. Waiting to come to the place you’d die.

Expecting to be led to gallows. Or an executioners block. Maybe even a court lined with people, one where you’d be trialed to death for a plot you’d no idea even existed. Maybe you’d be shoved into the coliseum on the next fight to be mauled to shreds by lions. Gouged by teeth and claw. Die screaming in the same dirt as your brother did.

It doesn’t come. None of that comes.

Your surroundings change again and you find yourself outside the grand walls of the coliseum. Looking up at the huge enormity of its powerful walls. The golden stone standing proud against the searing blue sky.

You’re marched across the dusty dirt of a yard, to yet another cage; this one held bars just like your previous one. A cage built on the back of a cart that has two horses ready to pull it along the capital roads. The general opens the barred door and gestures guards in around you.

One of the soldiers hit you forwards with a harsh shove. The back of his sword hilt. A hard enough shove for you to know it would purple to a bruise soon enough. Mulberry purple staining your skin at the back of your hip. You barely even yelp.

The general admonishes the soldier harshly for his rough treatment. You were to be brought - unmolested.

A word the Emperor had ordered with a growing wolfish grin.

“Where am I being taken?” You dare ask. Words crack out your throat. Unused. Thirsty. Timid. Ocean starved. All this dry land is making you dizzy and miserable.

He explained. Tone grave. Before you are pulled inside the bars. Caged once more.

“You’ve been summoned.”

“By whom?” You seek.

His eyes weight into you. Wrapped in pity and severity. His words clang around your head. Coffin nails. Just like bars he shut around you.

“You’ve been requested by the Emperor himself.”

You struggle to comprehend the enormity of the palace before you.

Palatine hill boasted of the richest and finest palaces in all of Rome. Including the imperial palace. The huge sprawling building. The importance and grandeur of these halls weighted on you like tonne heavy rocks.

You feel like a smear of dirt among these polished white walls and halls. Crawling with servants and guards. Stuffed with so much riches and finery. You’ve heard tale of how Emperors were hand picked by the gods. They were gods to the people they reigned over.

You are escorted once again out of a yard and into this place you’d heard only grand things about. Marched along corridors longer than you’d ever known. You saw fountains spitting streams of clear crystalline water and imperial gardens with huge tropical plants. Statues of marble and tiled mosaic floors that shine as if recently scrubbed.

Guards at every door. Servants clad in cloth finer than you’ve ever owned - or touched - they carry huge platters of bread or bowls spilling over with plump fruits. Large amphora jugs of wine held aloft in careful hands. This seemed like a luxurious heaven. You wondered if you’d see clouds, goddesses and sun beams even from your lowly mortal perch.

The guards keep you in step. Hauled along so fast you feel blisters aching at the balls of your feet. As you’re traipsed in. Bloodied and low. Beaten down. Your split lip has dried to a cut. You worry it with your tongue. The little whip cracks of pain a reminder of your mortality - one you’re certain you will be relieved of soon.

You are brought to a set of huge imperial doors by the general. Who is bid to enter right away.

Your eyes don’t know where to settle first; the room is one of the richest displays you’ve ever seen. Orange fabric the colour of vibrant mandarins, hangs in drapes over the open arches and doorways. Mosiac floors polished to a shine. There’s gold and marble statues and plinths. Paintings in dark deep colours of battle scenes. Swords and blood and male glory. As if it had come to life right before your eyes. This room is threaded with gold and devotion to male gods.

As is the man who sits leisurely awaiting you on a padded lectus. One spilling with tasseled silken cushions to soften his seat. Emperor Geta.

His robes were the same as when you last saw him. Dark jewel colours of black and blue. Gems cast in gold on each finger. Dark cloths with gold items of jewellery on his breast in the form of a broach. So much gold you don’t now where to test your eyes first.

Maybe he is a god. He certainly has all the riches of one. Stood before you as if he were Jupiter and all his delights. Thunderbolts seeping from his powerful fingers.

A golden crown of laurels ringing his light waved hair. His eyes was where true darkness laid; dark kohl ringing eyes the colour of the darkest Umbrian. Earth of shadow.

He was idly picking at food laid on a rose petal strewn table before him. You’ve never seen an offering of food so large and all for one. Cups of wine. Bread. Dried Fruit and a tiered stand flowing with fresh fruit. Some cheeses. Meats and fish. All laid on plates for him to pick over and discard, or saviour at his behest.

You wonder which category you’d fall into- the former appears the more likely.

Your stomach pangs for the smell of the freshly baked bread. The sweetness of the fruit. The tart wine. Tongue dry as sand and sluggish in your mouth.

“There you are. My little sea nymph.” He sneers over at you. One side of his lip curls upwards.

In panic, you bend the knee and bow your head, subservient, meek, and that makes him smile more.

He’s snapped his regal bejewelled fingers and had you bought to him. Bloodied and blinking dust out your eyes. Dirt stroked on your once fine dress. It now hangs in shredded tatters at the hem by your sandals. Blood spots dried like rusted petals. Brutal handling from guards lay in the bruises now scattering your lovely arms and the welts banding your wrists.

You want to cower behind the wall of guards. But you are rudely thrown forwards. Those shadowy eyes trace over your poorly clad form; you do feel like a minuscule scrap of dirt. A crack in a looking glass. A tarnish on something gleaming golden. The smear of imperfection allowed to exist in this heavenly palace.

He sees your hands are loose by your sides; unbound.

“Why is she not in chains, General? Have we stopped chaining our prisoners” He asks. Ire woven into his words. Eyes unflinching and hard and he scowls at Acacius. Who remained unmoved even in the face of his petulant wrath.

“I saw no need to chain her. Emperor. Such a woman in her position could surely not be a threat to you.” It’s a barb. A small sensible thorn, perhaps.

You flick your eyes across to the General.

“I didn’t even have to draw my sword or threaten her. She came willingly.” He tells his Emperor.

Like a sweetly led fool. A sacrificial creature led blindly to her own slaughter.

The guards stand to attention. Unwavering. Wall of armour and swords around your back as you cower. Eyes cast to the floor as you’re being discussed like a slab of meat. Something without autonomy or feeling.

You can feel Getas eyes on you still. Hard and weighty as warm metal. Searing into your skin. The way livestock are branded.

Those eyes are unrelenting. Violating. Scouring you up and down some more. Inspecting the span of your hips. The dip of your waist. The fall of your chest. Plump of your breasts and hips. The once pristine coil of your knotted hair.

Goddesses would envy you. The furies would want to tear down your beauty and goodness in wrath. Scratch out your eyes. Shear your hair. Anything to steal the golden thread of goodness from you.

Juno had blessed you and kept you indeed. Like you’re fresh out of her temple and sparkling with promise. He knew it the second he saw you. He made up his mind to have you then.

You had something. Something wrapped inside yourself like a shell protecting a pearl. Something good and virtuous. He wanted you all for himself.

If he was good as a god, then blessing himself with a wife who was a gift from the most beloved goddess was his right.

He can smell lemons and salt. And wondered if he inhaled the nubile skin of your neck and hair if then he’d find the source of it. Made him want to bite down on that supple neck and leave his mark-

“An unlikely source for a traitor do you not think so, General?” He asks.

General doesn’t answer but his expression is very telling. “My spies tell me she was not in the capital for two days before the suspected treason.” He offers.

Your stomach lurches, manages to tie itself into knots. Clammy sweat prickles your brow and your neck.

“Maybe she wasn’t aware of the plot. An unwilling participant dragged into the sordid scheme.” Geta speculates.

No answer comes from you still.

“Is she mute? I certainly heard her screams well enough at the coliseum.” He mocks. Impatient.

“Speak. Your Emperor demands it.” The General barks at you. You flinch at his sudden raised voice. Finally trailing your eyes from the mosaic tiles.

“I am not mute. Your majesty.” You explain. Feeling the tickle of humiliated tears at your eyes.

“I can offer no plea for innocence, except the truth that I had no knowledge as to my fathers schemes.”

Because no such schemes existed. Macrinus should be here in chains instead of you. The lying snake. He orchestrated the whole thing.

Geta savours your words. Drinks them in the way he’d taste wine. Rolls them around in his mouth.

He merely nods slightly. You hold your breath for his response.

“Come.” He sneers. “There’s something I want you to see.”

He guides you across to the huge marble pillars which guarded the open mouth of the balcony.

You walk behind him and come to the balustrade of white marble. Peering over the ledge. Out into the courtyard below where a cluster of soldiers and horses are gathered close.

“The soldiers will ride on my command.” He tells you. Sick delight in the power he wields.

When they pull away, and the sight below is exposed to you, your entire body wrenches forwards. Desperation grips you violently. A cry shattered out your throat.

They were going to quarter your father before your very eyes.

He stood, small and beaten, blood pouring from a gash to his head, in a filthy cloth tunic, because they’d humiliated him. Had him stripped of his noble senate robes.

His limbs each tied to separate riders on separate horses. When they galloped off in different directions, he would be torn to pieces. Barbaric.

Through a blackened eye and a swollen brow your father gazes up at you. Despair on his face. A once strong man brought so very low. It wounds you.

Geta is drinking in your every expression. The full horror and pain writ across your pretty face.

“No. No, mercy, please. Your majesty. I beg of you. Mercy.” You babble.

Eyes wide with desperation. Voice breaking as surely as your heart was. Cracking in two in your chest. Sharp as glass shards. Clinking to pieces sharp enough to make your insides bleed anew.

“Why should I spare a liar? Salacia?” He asks you. “Why should I not make an example of what happens to traitors in my court…” He demands. Eyes locked on you.

“He’s offered me things I don’t want or need to delay his death. Money. Information. I cannot help but feel it’s inevitably drawn him closer to it.”

He raises his hand, calmly. You sob. The riders bolt to attention. One more move and that would be it.

You flew for him. Unrestrained. Desperate. Willing to beg on your knees if needs be. You put yourself in front of him. Put your hands to him.

The General and his guards drew swords and came close. Geta turned and and ushered them back with a harsh wave of his fingers. He was enjoying this too much. The nature of despair- the clammy stench of desperation pouring off you like ocean waves.

You could only think of one instance that might appease his lust for blood-

Dying in the place of your elder for his crimes was all you had. All you clutched in your empty injured hands.

“Let me take his place. Put the bonds on me instead. Let me take his punishment. Make me the example.” You beg. Tears shiver and fall down your cheeks. Burning drips of salt spear at your lash-line.

In your desperation you cling to Getas chest. Your nails raking gold and the fine threads of the fabric coat he wore. He didn’t seem to mind. He seemed amused by it.

“Little Salacia.” The way he used your name with a brazenly satisfied smirk altered something in you.

An arm winds itself around your hip. Cups the back. Pressed a bruise that you want to hiss in pain at. But can’t.

His other hand rings your neck. Ghosts his thumb over the curve of your chin. Smearing tears with the gold and jewels on his fingers. You gasp. Air emptying out your lungs in one fell swoop.

“You have so much more to offer your Emperor than your death.” He says quietly. His meaning became intimate. Wrapped in insinuation.

Your mouth opened, no sound came. Your lower lip trembles. You glance down at your father who is crying. Straining, wrenching forwards at his bonds. Desperate to keep you from this.

Geta takes his hand and runs his hand through one knotted lock of it for a moment. Leaning in to savour the smell of you. He moans with it.

Definitely lemons. Mixed with something briny salt, the ocean. In odes to your name.

Your father sees this. The closeness. The insulation that this man would take you. He shouts from his bonds below. Begging.

“By the gods, spare her.” He cries.

“Not my daughter. It is my crime. Take me. I am here. Take me!”

With your father and oldest brother dead, your mothers and sisters would be destitute. They would be reduced to beggars. Brought low. With him alive they were respectable- reduced in honour perhaps, but at least they’d live.

Tears bite at your eyes. You let them. Blink them away.

“What’s say you? My patience is wearing thin…” Geta bullies. Hand dropping from your hair.

It pushes you to act.

“Servitude of my body. I will enslave myself to your every whim. Emperor.” You say through tears. Every sordid whim.

“Exile him.” Youoffer.

Geta’s eyes gleam to that. Intrigued. You would exile and dishonour your own father?

“Exile him from Rome and the Senate, and send him back to Corsica to be with my mother and sisters. Where he is needed.” You implore.

“And what of you, how will you serve me?” He drawls.

“I will stay here and act as your servant in whatever manner you wish.” You accept.

“I have servants. Little nymph. I don’t require any more servants. I don’t need whores or courtesans. What I do require, however, is a wife. One who will give me strong heirs.” He smiles. Clutching your hip in a strong, thick fingered hand.

Your throat constricts. Tears squeeze. As if he’s fisted a hand around your throat and squeezed and choked until you gave. Melted into his hands pliant.

Geta has you exactly where he wanted you. As he planned.

“I need your word you’ll spare him if I agree.” You counter. Eyes hard as diamond tips. Still watery and half logged in tears.

“My word is bond. He will leave this city unharmed.” He assures. Displeased at your doubt.

Clever little nymph, too. To bargain with a god.

Asking an Emperor like him to pledge his fealty. Were you any other commoner he’d have your tongue cut out for that insolence.

Then again, cornered creatures will snap and bite and claw for survival. They will do anything.

“Then I agree.” You cry. “I accept.”

His smirk grows. Wolfish. Unsticking a coil of hair from the blood on your cheek. And he’s close. Too close for your comfort.

“You will be my Empress.” He decides.

“My wife and my property. I will own you in every manner there is. You will give me healthy sons that will dethrone my brother.”

Those words make you shrivel inside.

What have you just agreed to. You may have delayed your fathers demise. But it appears you’ve just turned the sword aimed his way to your belly. Chalked a target on your own back instead- an eye for an eye-

He turns, keeping you in his hold, he lowers his hand.

“Exile that snake out of Rome. This instant-“ He orders sharply. “Take him to the city walls and tell him never to return or I will have his head on a platter for me and my wife.”

You watch with thinly veiled relief as the guards come in to cut his bonds and drag him by the collar.

You want to run to him. You want to embrace him and tell him to return to mother with kind words and love. He is dragged away out of sight.

Bleeding and battered. But safe.

You lock eyes. Same colour as yours, shaded ocean, surrounded by bloated skin and blood sheeting his face. Cut with paths of tears rolling down, before he is gruffly marched away. Dazed, bound, and bleeding. He is choking on his sobs too.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. Nothing. No familial words. No kindness.

He was torn from you. Now your every whim is stolen away. Dictated by this man. This cruel stranger. One who would bed you and keep you cowed like a broodmare.

You stood there. Watching down on the scuffled marks in the dirt where he’d once been. Dust clouding. Now empty. It seemed like an illusion. Had it all just passed like air. Like a warm sea breeze. Your life altered in one brief moment of mercy and begging.

Geta turns to his General. “You are dismissed. Leave. Go win my wars.” He sneers curtly.

Acacius took his leave with a frown and a bow. Look directed to you as he did. “Emperor. Empress.”

The Emperor snapped his fingers. And within seconds, servants scurried silently from other rooms. A handful of maidens came. Long hair unbound. Robes of orange and blue. He snapped his orders at them. They folded their hands in front of themselves. Heads low as they obeyed.

“Escort my new bride to her chambers. Have her bathed and made presentable. Put her in something decent. We will marry at dusk.” He informs. Glancing you up and down with a leer.

“Then she will grace my bed. Doing her duty like a proper wife.”

He strides over to you where you stand on the balcony, the marble thing holding you up. All strength sapped. Your knees and arms and bones were water. Not marrow.

It was always foam whipped off the waves that made you up. And now you sagged with it. Plaint and drowning. A sad drowned maiden in her brook. A doomed saint of the sea.

“Leave her hair unbound. I like it down.” He orders. Wrenching his hand to the back of your neck. You wither under his touch. He senses this.

“Be grateful. I spared your filthy treasonous father. But I can still make your existence an unpleasant one if I choose.” He warns.

He leans close to claim your mouth in a kiss so sudden and brazen it makes you weak.

His lips are pillow soft and anything but delicate. His tongue seeks your mouth, licks the blood off the healing cut. Moans sordidly when he does. He kisses like a starving hound.

A trail of spit connects your mouths when he pulls away. He smears it to your chin with a finger. Rubs his essence into your skin to stay forever stained.

“I eagerly await to taste more of you later. Empress. Don’t disappoint me. It’s not a wrath you want to risk.”

“Yes, Emperor.” You sigh.

He leaves you so quick, you almost keel over. The servants wait patiently to escort you out in his absence.

In the faraway sky, over the capital, new clouds sag and bloat. Darkly stalking across the once clear blue. The sky turns to grey and churning clouds. It’s too bad you couldn’t see the sea. You had a feeling there would thrashing, heaving storms and waves double the size of these damned palace walls.

Thunder crashes in the distant gathering dark. The ocean wanted you back. Neptune’s rage for the loss of you. You picture home. Humble white walls. The wind so fierce it ripped petals clean off the climbing vines of jasmine. The lemon trees swaying and rocked violently. News of treason and abduction reaching your sisters’ horrified ears. Your mothers cries in situ with the storm.

You watch at the sky until rain pelts the marble walls like lashes. Rain dots your skin. Cold stroking your hair and shoulders. Marring dark blue arrows down your ruined dress. Maybe you’re grieving-

A servant girl has to hook a hand on your shoulder and kindly try to urge you inside. Your tears entwined with the howling rain. It feels like that’s all that’s left of you.

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

#punkwrites #geta x reader #emperor geta #freak nasty #joseph quinn #geta #ancient rome #gladiator #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius #again no smut but we’re gonna get there slowly #geta is a nasty freakkk #general acacius #prison #desperate times call for desperate measures #so it turns out i cant write gratuitous smut #oh no #i have to have a long winded story before my characters get to fuck

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pelagaios-a · 8 years ago

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How would you say your fandom views your muse? Do you agree? Why or why not?

hello nonnie, thank you for this essay prompt. I hope I actually answer your question below and it didn’t just turn into a salt fest by yours truly ( would you like it mla ??? apa ??? chicago ??? ). put under a cut since this got long rip.

going to be honest I don’t even know where to begin. I think just about everything Percy is is an aspect the fandom doesn’t seem to get? and it frustrates me because 1. I love fanfiction but can’t read pjo fanfic drives me nuts 2. entering his tag makes me want to quit ( then again, think that’s all the pjos ) and 3. I think the fandoms favorite past time is over exaggeration of qualities they’ve deemed characters have… all together not exactly the best mix. this also tends to bug the hell out of me because I then get people who want to thread who have not read my about or whatever and they follow fanon ( which you can say they don’t know better but I think every rper gets mad at fanon over something so one would think we’re more prone to being careful about it, alas ). anyway onto my rather brief writeup because I could literally write my dissertation on this with a chapter by chapter breakdown.

I guess a good place as any to start is the idea Percy’s an idiot. or oblivious. or both. or anything along the lines of those two ideas. bottom line is he isn’t. I know exactly where this idea stems from to — Percy is the narrator of the first books and he thinks he’s stupid. therefore, he must be stupid. no other option, right ??? wrong actually. how many times has Percy not only thought up an executed a plan, but has cleverly defeated enemies? he gets himself out of trouble using his own head so, so many times. hell, Annabeth calls Percy one of the smartest demigods she knows can we all please listen to a non self assessment here. like what happened to “judge someone by their actions” and not what they think of themselves ??? literally screaming. plus Percy is someone who, when not mid battle, thinks out what he’s doing and follows through with his goal. just look at the Last Olympian if anything. he collects and retains knowledge and is very ingenuitive solving problems. not only that but he is also very aware of his surroundings and other people. just because he doesn’t acknowledge something involving himself does not make him oblivious. stop.

next can we talk about the “happy go lucky” thing ??? which I see so often. you know, Mr. Popular™ who looks cheery af and everyone loves. we can start with the basics here. first of all, Percy is not… happy. he never really was in canon? he had moments of happiness, sure, but consistently happy? no. throughout canon he has been incredibly hard on himself and doesn’t see much worth in his own actions and being. he is withdrawn ( literally look here ) and doesn’t actively reach out to others. inner monologue vs. outward action does not equal one answer. jokes are a good way to keep people off your back, a smile make people think you’re fine. other people don’t dig. considering how he grew up and considering what he has and continues to deal with, this boy ain’t a “happy go luck no problems living the dream” character. can we please acknowledge what he’s gone through and what he continues to face instead of erasing all of it to make him the clown ( though, I guess this title is falling more and more on Leo now which also no ).

mmmmm how about his powers ??? Percy canonically is scared of what he, himself, can do. he does not actively use them. I get that its cute or funny or whatever to have him do dumb things with them ( like, there’s all that potential ) but thats not a constant? Percy is incredibly powerful these aren’t some joke. not to mention he does not want this life and does not like everything that comes with who he is. his powers are a sign of his father and a sign of the first prophecy and a sign of how he can never be comfortable where he is since there will always be monsters on his tail. always someone coming after him. he’s not stupid. he may accept this is his life but it does not mean he’s comfortable in these shoes. I’d be hard money Percy actively does not use them in day to day situations ( minus say, dry clothes / breathing underwater / the subconscious stuff — what I’m talking about is like messing with the shower / doing the dishes with them / pranking people ) because he tries really hard not to bring any of this into his home. I’m just gonna stop myself here before I rant…

god okay what next. his anger. his loyalty. his bitterness. Percy as a character is someone vindictive and manipulative. he is not someone who lets people walk over him. he is not someone who “would never hurt a fly.” he is not someone who just moves on. can we please stop turning him into a two dimensional character and ignoring his very prominent flaws ??? he systematically and knowingly chocked a goddess on her own poison so she could feel his misery, he has more then once canonically wished more harm on those already dead, he and his mother planned out and murdered his stepfather with no remorse on his end. he may be loyal — it may be his fatal flaw — but if you aren’t someone he’s close to? bullshit. he’s suspicious, he’s distrusting. Percy may give people the benefit of the doubt but he does not do so without keeping an eye for trouble. he has been tossed aside all his life, bullied all his life. he grew up learning to read people and learning to keep his options open. don’t ??? ignore this ??? yells. he is angry he has always been angry he has trouble controlling his anger just…. puts face in hands.

that he’s straight. : )

generally, as you can see here, me and fanon don’t agree.

#anon #♆ ╱ ❛ asks.#i kept it..... short as i could tbh im trying not to info dump #god idk im sorry for this ???#im a bucket of pure salt #god idk what to tag this #♆ ╱ ❛ headcanons.#su re why not

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revivemyreverie · 4 years ago

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OMG HIIII, REV, THE CHARACTER SONGS, HAND THEM OVER NOW 🔫

YOU GUYS ARE SO QUICK IM DYINGNGJFJG

I’m not doing all of them simply bcuz !!! That’s too many. But !!! I will be focusing on the ones I already related songs to ;)))

Also warning for vulgar language fbjfjfjf

Andreas

Bitter Choco Decoration - syudou

This song’s message is one on bottling up your own emotions for the sake of others, which I believe fits Andreas and his conflict perfectly!!

I feel like the beat fits too as it gives off a high-strung yet keep-it-cool vibe

LIKE UGH I like to think all the lines about stuff he won’t allow himself to act on are things he often sees students around him do😳 ALSO THE “I’ve finally grown up, mama” really fits when I consider Andreas’ relationship to his mom

Charles

Usseewa - Ado

ado is gonna appear again in this list LMAO BUT

Usseewa works so well for him! The rage and the harsh language remind me of him very much!!! The song itself talks about the transition from the destruction of one’s pure view on the world to their acceptance into said world(with a large bucket of salt, that is) which is practically Charles’ backstory LMAO

I also like to think that some of the lyrics are thought towards some particular people in his life 😉

Jiahao

Fallen Angel - Aimee B

Fallen Angel always gave me a daydreamy vibe, just like Jiahao! The tempo is slow yet sweet, and the singer’s voice gives it a blissful feel. The talk about dreaming, heaven, and lullabies all remind me of Jiahao in one way or another. It also correlates to his past life!

In a nutshell, it’s definitely something Jiahao would daydream to!

Mordred

Readymade - Ado

ADO BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH STEALING MY ATTENTION

but !!!! The energy this song gives fits her so much!!! It comes off strongly, and Ado’s voice gives off an almost crude and teasing tone that gives off big mordred energy.

LIKE UWGEURHEU?! It sounds so spunky and powerful. And it’s theme on deviating from the norm without a care in the world. It’s perfect for my favorite bear lady

Scotia

シャルル (Sharuru)- BalloonP

I was about to say the eng name of the song(Charles) but I would have confused myself

This song has always been one of my favorites! It’s always reminded me of her. The song talks about a complicated relationship, which is definitely up her alley. The writing of the song gives off a doubtful and tired feel to me, sorta like Scotia

#ask game!#twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #andreas hellhaven #charles brennen #jiahao(twst)#mordred dan bear #scotia tub #FHFJFJ. IM NOT VERY GOOD AT EXPLAINGING WHY CHARACTERS FIT WITH SONGS

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so-fi-fi · 7 years ago

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Gereng Week 2017- Resurface

My second entry of @gereng-week is here! Be prepared though, this one is LONG compared to my last entry. Get some snacks and settle down!

Honestly, my thought process with this was as follows: resurface- resurfacing from water- water- MERMAIDS!!

So yeah, this is a fic that involves that stuff is what I’ll say ;)

Please enjoy!

EDIT: ok I don’t know why this didn’t show up but now there’s an under the cut. ugh im sorry for anyone who had to scroll through all of this it’s finally working now, although i cant seem to make it work for mobile so sorry in advance >>

It was a perfect day on the English coast; the sun shined, breaking through the clouds amidst a blue sky. It’s warmth was chilled by the wind that whipped through the rocky cliffs, billowing and blowing. Seafaring birds squawked overhead, landing on the rocks, checking their nests.

Arthur watched them, padding along the sand against the gentle waves. This was his absolute favorite spot to frequent, away from the crowdedness of his normal life. Plus, it served to fuel Arthur’s desire to study the ocean, to learn more about it. Ever since he took up a job working on a ship as a lad, the sea was something he became fascinated with. Despite the backbreaking labor and meager pay, Arthur had always looked forward to boarding the ship, feeling the breeze caressing his hair and salt spray filling his nose.

Now, as man, he could pursue this hobby more acutely. A dusty satchel slung over his shoulder, carrying multiple objects like magnifying glasses, dusters, and his pair of shoes that he’d put on once he left. In one hand, Arthur held a notepad, open and ready to be used once he found something to observe. He flipped through it absentmindedly, looking over some notes he took last week; shells and things that washed up on shore. Arthur tipped his head back, breathing in deeply, a slow smile curling on his lips. This must be the greatest he’s ever felt! Such unbridled freedom, his own world hidden away by sheer rock cliffs on all sides. Away from the blandness of society, the drab of work and hardship.

Watching the sand again, Arthur hummed as he spotted a particularly intricate shell resting between the dunes. Picking it up gently, he brushed his fingers over the smooth, jagged surface. He eyed it for a moment, before pulling a pencil from his pocket, balancing his notebook on his forearm so as not to drop the precious discovery. Arthur began walking absentmindedly forward over the beach again.

He didn’t pay attention to where he was going, feet shuffling over the sand, too engrossed in his notes to notice the terrain become slightly rocky. Turning to the side, Arthur stopped for a moment, holding the shell up and scrutinizing it against the sunlight. A sudden glint caught his attention in his peripheral vision, and Arthur turned his head instinctively towards the flash. Surely, it must be a trinket long forgotten, only now unearthed by the beating of the waves. Glancing at whatever it was without much thought, he returned his attention back to the shell.

Wait.

Arthur snapped his head around, neck complaining at the sheer force, taking in just what the hell he was seeing. His entire body froze, muscles tensed, and it felt like an entire bucket of icy water was just dumped- no, slammed over him.

Someone was stretched out on one of the rocks, lying on his stomach and basking in the sun. Except, Arthur realized it wasn’t someone, but something. From the waist down, a tail adorned with luminous scales curled lazily on the sandy stone, flippers slapping lightly against it with what must have been contentment. Gaze tracing back up and over the dorsal fin that protruded from the spine, Arthur saw that even the part of the creature which should have been human had otherworldly features; Translucent fins ran along the sides of his arms, the same appendages frilling from beneath his pale hair taking the place of ears, and a nose that seemed flatter and less prominent than normal. Yet despite the oddities, Arthur found himself entranced, eyes unable to break away from the glittering scales, sky blue and blinking underneath the light. Were they changing colors? Or was that just his disbelieving mind playing tricks on him?

Nonetheless, the situation finally dawned on him, and a fierce gasp ripped itself from Arthur’s chest. The sharp noise immediately alerted the creature to his presence, who let out a startled noise of his own, jolting up in surprise. Eyes wide and fearful, staring into Arthur’s for a split second, he scrambled off the stone, powerful tail propelling him into the water and out of sight.

“Wait wait wait- don’t go!” Arthur tripped over his own words, flingy all his possession to the ground and sprinting into the shallows.

Fear is what caused him to halt once the tide reached his knees, and he stared hopelessly into the water .

“Come back! I didn’t mean to scare you!” He cupped his hands over his mouth, voice reverberating across the ocean and up the cliff walls. Minutes passed with no sign of blue scales, and Arthur’s hands dropped in defeat at his sides; the waves he shouted at were empty.

Breath shaking, his legs gave out under the weight of pure adrenaline, falling to kneel and not giving a damn about his soaked clothing. Even if he could swim, pursuing the creature would be highly impractical, with his legs suited for land as they were. Arthur leans down and splashes salt water in his face, hissing as it stung his eyes, trying to bring himself out of whatever sick dream he was having. But when they reopened, there was no comforting pressure of the blankets in his bed, only the teasing calls of gulls. Arthur almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. He could hardly believe it, convinced since young that they were just a silly fairy tale, yet look what just happened.

He had just seen a merman.

Every week, Arthur returned to that same spot. Gathering whatever interesting things he could find, he plopped himself down on the rock the merman had been, and took his notes there. Every so often, his eyes would flicker to the waves gently crashing and undulating, hoping to see light hair and eyes resurface from their depths. Sometimes his brain would deceive him, a stray reflection on the waters making his heart jump in excitement, only to plummet back down to earth realising that it was just that: a stray reflection. Even with these frustrations, Arthur held steadfast, keeping this religious schedule on point, never faltering.

Soon, a full month had passed, the days trudging on. Arthur felt as if he were dragging his feet in the sand, feeling so lethargic from the disappointment. It must have all been a figment of his imagination, he was sure of it, sat there for another day without the encounter he so desired. He was wasting his time, wasn’t he? Letting this false apparition plague his life and warp it into a constant waiting game for nothing. Yet Arthur couldn’t move past it. All he could see was that merman stretched out on the rocks like a cat, peaceful and beautiful. The image wouldn’t let Arthur go, forcing him to continue on in his hopeless endeavour.

Arthur sighed, resting his chin in his hand, elbow propped up on his knee, watching the ocean unblinking. How many times had it been now? Was this the twentieth time? The thirtieth? Arthur didn’t know, he had honestly lost track. His chest puffed as he sighed again, even deeper this time, leaning his head down to rub the hand under his chin across his eyes in exasperation. In that moment, he was filled with so much frustration and despair, that Arthur was about to slam his notebook closed and march away from the beach. But when his hand dropped down again, something caught his attention among the waves.

No… it couldn’t be. Arthur didn’t dare to hope, hardly trusting himself to not be fooled by another object posing to be what he sought. Yet when he looked again, there it was.

A shadow was floating in perfect buoyancy underwater a little ways off to the side of the shore, facing him as if trying to watch without being seen. But Arthur has seen it now, and he knows exactly what it is. Or really, who it is.

Unable to contain his joy, Arthur darts up from where he was slouched, scooting closer to the shadow, and is immediately detected. It flees instantly, swimming further out to sea and away from Arthur’s prying gaze, but this time, he didn’t mind. Instead, Arthur whoops in triumph, flopping onto his back and ignoring the pain caused by its collision with the stone underneath. His laugh is genuine now, cheeks becoming sore as his face is stretched by a wide grin, staring into the sky and feeling an elation like no other. This wasn’t just a wild goose chase now, and he wasn’t crazy. Well, scratch that, he must be a tiny bit out of it for even giving this scenario the time of day, but Arthur found he really didn’t care a single bit.

He was relieved to notice that when he returned again, the shadow did too.

It went on like that for a couple weeks, with Arthur working amongst the rocks while the merman watched in hiding, obviously too wary to reveal himself yet. Arthur pretended to be too engrossed in his notes, when really he was fully aware of the presence below. Each time he visited, the shadow inched closer and closer to his perch. Arthur had to tense his muscles, reign in his excitement and restrain himself from full on flinging himself into the water, inability to swim be damned. He chuckled at that flippant idea. He’d probably drown.

Those weeks passed in silence and relative tranquility, just him and his very hidden, very nervous friend. It was around when spring began in full swing, days becoming warmer, that this pattern finally changed.

Arthur had his nose in his notebook as usual, when he heard a slight shift in the water below. Looking down to the source of the sound, his stomach backflipped. Two striking eyes, the same ones he’d hoped to see again, were above the water’s surface. They pierced him with an emotion Arthur couldn’t quite place. He could only stare into them, frozen like a deer caught in headlights, mouth slightly agape. The merman let out a puff of air, bubbles popping in the water, before his head submerged again. Arthur blinked, taken aback. Did he just…scoff? Such an expressive action, and from a creature that had been acting nothing but timid?

He didn’t see the merman the rest of his time there. But when Arthur returned a couple days later, sitting down on his usual spot, the head immediately surfaced like before.

The merman continued to watch him, silently observing. Arthur really couldn’t concentrate, not with that fierce gaze burning him. He wasn’t looking, feigning ignorance, but it was impossible to work when he felt like he was being dissected. Arthur only registered an intake of air before he could prepare himself for what happened next.

“Why you still come here?”

Arthur had to double take, hand jotting down notes stilling. He looked around, wondering who that could’ve been, when a flash of heat overtook him at the realization of who had just spoken.

His eyes slowly fall on the ones peering from the water.

“Did… Was that… you can talk?” Arthur was hesitant. Couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

The merman looked pointedly off to the side, then back at Arthur.

“Answer question” was the sharp response he provided, brows lowering.

Arthur’s jaw fell slack, but he quickly shook off his surprise when he saw the merman grow crosser.

“Um, well, I like to come out here. Find things I like and write things I notice about them down,” he trails off a bit, wondering if he was even understood, “but if you’d rather me leave, I can.”

Sinking lower into the waves, the merman looked contemplative. “No. It is okay. I am just confuse.”

Arthur felt more relieved than he would’ve admitted, glad that he wouldn’t be kicked out just yet. Now, that he was past the initial shock of this creature being capable of speech (even though it was halting and broken), Arthur actually took in what his voice was like. It was deeper than he’d thought it’d be, a low rumble from his chest. It had a heavy accent to it, although Arthur couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it came from, perhaps one from their original language? He didn’t know.

“Not like other humans,” the merman shot, borderline accusing, “humans not come here, always alone. You do a lot. Not bring others, not bring sharp things or boats. Just stay there on rock with…” his hand reached out of the water, pointing at the notebook Arthur held. Arthur noticed the fine webbing between each finger.

“The… the…”

Arthur watched as the merman’s face contorted in concentration as he tried to forms the words.

“Notebook,” He leaned forward, holding out the object so the other could see, “It��s something that you write in.” Arthur made a motion with his hand against the paper, pantomiming writing incase the merman didn’t understand.

“Oh.” The merman looked over it for a moment, then leaned back in the water, far off in thought. “Note-book… okay.”

A comfortable silence settled in, and Arthur cleared his throat, deeming the merman calmed down enough for him to ask what he wanted to earlier.

“May I ask how exactly you learned to speak my language? It’s fascinating, really.”

That same look of concentration returned. “I listen to humans talk at ports, that is how I learn. But I know better language of humans by seas east of here. My family talk to me in that language since young, so I know if am hunted.”

“Wow…” Arthur breathed in utter fascination. There was not just this one merperson, but more, entire families, teaching each other, learning, systems hidden underneath the deep blue of the ocean. It was unlike anything he’d ever dreamed.

He realized suddenly, that he hadn’t introduced himself yet. How rude!

“My name is Arthur, by the way.” He patted his hand against his chest, then gestured it towards the other. “I assume you must have one to, can you tell me what it is?”

“My name…?” The merman slinked into the waves again. It must be a nervous habit of his, Arthur mused. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable. “I never tell a human my name… You not understand sounds we make. But…”

His eyes narrowed, until he grasped something tangible to say. “Where I come from, there is name I heard humans say. I like how it sounds, I guess you can use it… It is Ludwig.”

Huh. Arthur tips his head, looking at the merman- no, at Ludwig. He definitely must have lived farther east in the North Sea, with a name like that. Arthur quite liked it.

“Well Ludwig, I’ll propose something to you,” He gave the other a wry grin, “If you allow me to keep coming back here, I can teach you more about my language, about my world- that is, if you want to.”

Ludwig tensed once again, the earlier calmness evaporated. “You just bring more humans. Hunt me. I know it.”

“No! I’d never do that.” Arthur shook his head fiercely, appalled by the very idea of it. “I’ll never reveal you to other people. I want to be friends with you, not cause you harm. You’ll be safe with me, you have my word.”

At that, Ludwig tilted his head. “My word?” He echoed, not understanding the figure of speech.

“Yes,” Arthur chuckled, finding it endearing. “It means you can count on me, that I promise.”

A long silence passed, Ludwig outwardly conflicted at the decision he had to make, until he finally looked up again.

“Alright, Arthur.”

His name was mangled and butchered on the other’s lips, but somehow that made it all the better.

Now when Arthur returned to that beach every so often, it was with a hop in his step. Joining Ludwig by the rocks felt like entering a whole other world, one of endless possibilities and wonder. The merman would float in the water beside him, listening as Arthur relayed what he had written, and watch as he took down fresh notes. Occasionally Ludwig would ask questions, curious about the trinkets Arthur had found on the beach, human objects that were foreign to him. He was always ecstatic to answer, teaching Ludwig bit by bit.

As for the shells, that was where Ludwig taught Arthur in exchange. He had a vast knowledge on a wide variety of them, explaining where he had seen them on the ocean floor. Arthur would listen intently to his limited english, rapidly jotting down what he said, eager to learn anything he could.

On one of these visits, Arthur showed Ludwig a particular shell, and he gasped.

“I know these! Not too far from here. I know where they are. You should swim with me there and you can take some, yes?”

Arthur’s mood immediately turned sour. He placed the shell down and wrung his hands together, unable to look at Ludwig’s excited expression.

“Um, well, I don’t know.” He dodged the question, not wanting to reveal the fact that he couldn’t swim out of shame. “I think I’ll stay put. You can get some if you want.”

Ludwig frowned, but didn’t press it. “I go alone then. Stay put.” He mimicked Arthur’s words before flitting away.

Arthur smiled, but it was hollow, too disappointed in himself.

After a while, Arthur started bringing books as well, deciding it would help Ludwig pick up english faster. He would read out loud, glancing every so often at the other, who would rest his chin on crossed arms against the rocks, eyes wide with wonder. Ludwig asked questions about what came up in the books too, gently interrupting Arthur every couple of minutes. One of his favorite memories of this, Arthur laughs to himself as he thought of it, was when he had to explain marriage to the confused merman.

“Wait, humans put a- it is called a ring?”

“Yes, Ludwig, it’s called a ring.”

“Humans put a ring on their finger to show they are in marriage?”

Arthur chuckled, loving the way he worded things. “Exactly. It’s to signify the bond.”

“Why can’t you remember? Human memory is really so bad, you need a ring?”

“I guess you can say that.” Arthur grins as Ludwig’s bafflement only grew.

Eventually, Arthur began talking about himself, his own life, as Ludwig started to prod more and more. He focused the most on his time working on the ship, and revealed how it was the origin for his love of the ocean. Ludwig seemed very pleased when Arthur described it to him, listening intently to every word. Arthur only thought it was fair that since he had talked so much about himself, that Ludwig should do the same. So, he started inquiring as well, interested to hear how the merman had lived previously.

Although he was reclusive, Ludwig eventually opened up and talked about his family, albeit not in great detail. Arthur found out that he had been raised by a brother from youth, that he never knew his parents.

“He is the one who taught me language of the humans.” Ludwig’s lips twitched into a smile as he talked, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Why did you decide to come up north, then? Didn’t you want to stay with him?”

It was a question asked in innocent curiosity, but Arthur didn’t miss the way Ludwig’s face darkened. He immediately got the hint.

“Actually nevermind. If you’re not comfortable you don’t have to answer that.” Arthur was quick to go into damage control, mentally kicking himself for not being more considerate.

“It is alright.” Ludwig answered, monotonous. He looked away, hiding his face. “I think I will go early today.”

Arthur sighed, really wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

Luckily, that altercation didn’t affect their relationship. When he saw Ludwig next, the merman was as bright eyed as he’d been before, showing no sign that he had lost trust in him.

Thus their ritual carried on as usual. Arthur continued to come to the rocks, and Ludwig continued to resurface from the water without fail. This easy rhythm really started to grow on Arthur, who found himself lost in thought most of the time about what he would bring next, or just simply daydream.

That’s where he ended up now, at his desk in the small bank he worked at, hand propping up his head as he stared off into space.

There was a sharp snicker from his side.

“So, who’s the lucky girl?”

Arthur turned, snapped out of his daze to see his coworker, Hannah, shooting him a sly grin, eyebrows quirked.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, please! You know exactly what I’m talking about!”

“Really, I’m afraid I don’t.”

Hannah sighed, exasperated. “Arthur, you look like you have one of cupid’s arrows shoved up your arse. So c’mon! Tell me! Who is she?”

Internally, Arthur completely blanched, but managed to keep a cool exterior. “Oh no. No- it’s nothing like that. Just lost in thought.” He grinned, playing it off with humor, although the heat that slowly crawled up his neck didn’t help his case.

“Lost in thought, huh? Seems like you’ve been lost in thought a lot these days.”

Jesus- If her lips curled anymore, her face might break. Might as well just ignore her, so Arthur just rolled his eyes playfully and put his attention elsewhere.

But when Arthur really stopped to think about it… Did he give off that impression? When people looked at him, was it so obvious to tell? Arthur hadn’t been thinking of a woman, or anything romantic in the slightest. He had just been replaying the image of how Ludwig looked the day before-

Oh.

Well, that couldn’t mean anything. A misunderstanding is all it was, nothing more.

Those intruding thoughts were already shoved to the back of Arthur’s subconscious by the time he left his job that day. He returned home briefly, slipping on some more comfortable clothing; trousers and a loose shirt, then grabbed his satchel by the door. Before making the journey down to the beach, Arthur strolled through town to a local fishmonger. He’d made a habit of bringing fish for Ludwig after the merman revealed how he didn’t have a steady source of food at the moment. He had of course assured that it was no big deal, but Arthur’s mind was set when Ludwig chewed into a gold necklace he brought to show the other, metal denting underneath powerful jaws.

Arthur entered the pescatary now, bell above the door joyfully announcing his arrival. The owner’s eyes lit up behind the counter at seeing him.

“Arthur! Back once again I see! The usual?”

“The usual!”

“Perfect!” He laughed, setting to work on the order. A hearty and welcoming man, he treated customers as friends and family.

Arthur waited patiently for the fish to be packaged, fiddling with a loose button on his jacket.

“Say, lad, you’ve been buying so much fish now. Why’s that?” The man asked Arthur inquisitively, genuine curiosity while he continued to work.

“Oh, um…” Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, “A friend of mine added more fish to his diet. He’s pretty busy so I offered to do the shopping for him.” Phew, that smooth lie seemed pretty believable.

And believable it was. The owner shot him a quick smile. “Ah, sounds like you’re a good friend.”

“I hope I am.”

The package of fish was presented to him, and Arthur quickly paid for it, stuffing it into his satchel.

“You have a good day now!”

Arthur gave the owner a small wave in response to his jovial parting call, pushing past the door and leaving the small shop, eager to go back to that beach.

On his way, he began to contemplate the situation he was in. People were starting to notice that something was different about him, which meant that Arthur had changed somehow. He didn’t get it. What did they see? Could they detect something? Could they worm their way into his head and watch his thoughts like a reel of film? It made Arthur anxious to think about that, briefly wondering if he was putting Ludwig in danger. If someone was determined enough, they could follow him down to the rocks and discover the merman. He doesn’t know how he’d ever live with himself, if he broke that promise to Ludwig, if he couldn’t keep him safe.

However, fretting about possible events wouldn’t stop them from coming to pass. Better to not think about it. Although, Arthur made a mental note to be mindful of how he came off, to try and be more discrete from now on.

When he returned to their spot, sandy rocks looking the same as ever, he whistled sharply and called Ludwig’s name.

It took about a minute before his head appeared out of the ocean, blonde hair sticking to his forehead, frills twitching; thing’s that Arthur had come to love.

Arthur grins, unwrapping the packaged fish and taking one out, holding it up high and waving the tasty treat.

Ludwig’s eyes crinkled, his smile hidden by the water, and submerged again. Arthur took this as a cue, winding up before chucking the fish into the air. In a flurry of water and power, Ludwig breached, tail shining and catching the light making a wonderful display. He snatched the fish, teeth sinking into it with a mighty snap, turning in midair as he fell back into the waves. Arthur laughed, a bit wet from the splashes the show produced, but thoroughly amused, clapping his hands.

Walking closer, Arthur resumed his usual position. He watched, waiting for the to finish eating. Ludwig came back to the surface, staring at him for a moment, and then his muscles tensed. He propelled himself once again, springing onto the rocks next to Arthur, clinging to the smooth edges to stable himself. He found a comfortable position, tail resting down the side and trailing into the water.

Arthur was glad; he always enjoyed when Ludwig joined him like this. The merman’s physique was still so awe inspiring, even after all this time. He had noticed more features, little details that he hadn’t seen before, like how the underside of Ludwig’s tail was lighter than the top. The fins along the backs of his arms as well as the frills on the sides of his head could move and swivel independently, and closed like fans when not in use. It seemed that he was doing the same to Arthur now, gaze flitting up and down the expanse of his body.

“I apologize for getting you wet.” Ludwig nodded towards the wet spots on Arthur’s shirt.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.” Arthur shot back, waving the apology away.

They began talking about innocuous things, a quiet back and forth. Arthur was quite impressed hearing the merman speak. Ludwig’s english had matured in leaps and bounds during their months together, and now he could form full sentences, sounding at ease when he spoke. His vocabulary had become more advanced from all the books he heard read aloud, so much so that Arthur was considering bringing down some paper and pencils and attempt to teach Ludwig how to read and write. That would be a considerably high feat, but maybe it could be done; Ludwig seemed to be a quick learner. Anyway, currently something else came to Arthur’s mind. He wondered, with him having taught the merman to speak better english, could it be possible for him to pick up Ludwigs language too? Arthur remembered Ludwig’s comment from long ago, about him not being able to comprehend the sounds that they make. But, hey, it’s worth a try, right?

“Hey, Ludwig, why don’t you say some words in your language? I’d really like to learn some.” Arthur asked the merman, who looked a bit surprised in return.

“Well, you see, that is difficult. How we talk is not like the human concept of language. There are a series of sounds that communicate single things.” Ludwig explained, gesturing towards him. “I do not think you would be able to make these sounds.”

“I can try,” Arthur looked up at him, “please? I want to connect to this part of you.”

That won Ludwig over. Arthur saw triumphantly as the merman’s resolve crumbled under such words.

“Fine… but do not say I did not warn you.”

Ludwig thought for a second, and then breathed in through his nose. The sound that released from the base of his throat startled Arthur, who clasped a hand over his mouth, bursting into laughter. Ludwig was completely right, that was nothing like human language. What Ludwig did seemed closely related to dolphins, but certainly not english! It was a higher pitched clicking noise, different from the baritone he usually spoke in, foreign and strange to Arthur’s ears.

“No no,” Arthur cut himself off, placing his fingers on Ludwig’s forearm when he saw the ashamed look on his face, “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just- wow. You really weren’t kidding!”

Ludwig shook his head. “Yes, I was not. Anyway, that is what we do when greeting one another. Like a ‘hello’.”

Arthur gave a small “ah” and then pursed his lips. It was very outlandish, but maybe there was a way he could at least try to replicate those sounds, if only a little bit. Enough that Ludwig could understand him and the sentiment behind such an action.

“I think I know a way I could imitate you.”

The merman’s eyes widened. “Really? How so?”

He contemplated his plan once more, before saying “Can you repeat what you did, and slower this time?”

Ludwig obliged, chattering again, but at a much slower pace, stretching out each and every syllable.

Arthur concentrated on the sound; one long click, followed by three, rapid shorter ones. He played it over and over again, until it was an endless record in his mind. Once he grasped it enough, he placed the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth and pushed.

In doing this, Arthur was able to produce a clicking sound similar, but in no way the same as what Ludwig had done. He made that greeting noise back at the merman, feeling slightly embarrassed when he actually heard himself, how ridiculous he must seem.

But immediately, Ludwig gawked, mouth dropping open in what Arthur hoped was the good kind of disbelief.

“Um, was it okay?”

Ludwig’s expression went from utter shock to pure joy, and Arthur had never seen him so absolutely ecstatic like this.

“I-you-” Now Ludwig himself could barely speak, like he had just completely forgotten english. “I mean- it is not authentic, but I can understand you. It is more than okay, it is great.”

Arthur couldn’t suppress a wide smile of his own, his chest swelling with pride.

“I’m glad.”

Following this, Ludwig then agreed to teach Arthur some of the different chatters and what they meant. By the end, Arthur was able to understand and replicate the sounds for greeting, parting, friends, family, and mates. All the while they laughed and joked, a light atmosphere settling over them during such a relaxed moment. Arthur made fun of himself and how terrible he must sound, while Ludwig assured him that he’s definitely the same way in english.

The sun began to set, and it was with a heavy heart that Arthur realized he would have to go soon, leaving the merman for days to come. It made him yearn for something impossible, something that would never be reality. The boundaries between land and sea could never be crossed.

“You know…” Arthur breathed, deciding to voice these thought, “sometimes, I really wish I were a merman, too. That way, I wouldn’t have to be separated from the ocean.”

Or from you, Arthur silently added, but there was no way he could say that outloud just yet.

He felt Ludwig shift beside him, moving a bit closer, and he froze when he felt something press against the top of his head. Arthur glanced up from under his eyelashes, seeing Ludwig’s pale shoulder but no more, when he realised what was happening. The soft rub that followed only confirmed it; Ludwig was nuzzling him, nose buried into his hair. Despite his conscious raving about how wrong it was, Arthur closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

“I do not know,” the vibrations of his voice sent a shiver down Arthur’s spine, “I think I like you like this, with two legs. I do not want you to change.”

It was simple and to the point, but to Arthur, it was the sweetest thing that anyone had ever said to him.

“I really wish you would swim with me.”

Arthur blinked, looking down at Ludwig where he floated. They were in the heat of summer, the sun’s rays unbearable, and Ludwig preferred to stay in the water all the time now, afraid of drying out. He tipped his head in confusion.

“Whenever I ask, you always come up with an excuse.” Ludwig frowned, brows furrowed.

Arthur just sighed. Looks like he couldn’t put this off any longer. It’s true, Ludwig had been asking him incessantly to join him in the ocean, and Arthur had brushed it off each and every time.

“It’s not an excuse that I’d be far too slow.”

“You know I do not have a problem with swimming slower.”

“Yes, but I can’t breathe underwater like you.”

“But you can hold your breath underwater.”

God, there was just no way out!

“Look, Ludwig…”

“If there is something wrong, you can tell me. I will not judge you.” He met Arthur’s eyes seriously. “I rather you tell me the truth.”

Arthur wished he would actually drown right then. Nonetheless, he was pinned into a corner, so might as well spill his guts.

“Well… the truth is I- basically I can’t… I can’t swim.”

He was going to just melt in embarrassment, wanting the cracks in the rocks to swallow him up. However, Ludwig didn’t look phased at all, perhaps even a little relieved.

“That is it?” He said lightly. “That is a relief. I thought by the way you were acting that it would be far worse, but this is no problem.

“No problem?!” Arthur couldn’t believe what he was hearing! Didn’t Ludwig understand the implication of the fact that he cannot swim? “Are you crazy?! I’ll drown!”

Ludwig just gave him an amused smile that was very uncharacteristic of him, really more of a smirk.

“Arthur. I am a merman. Your chances of drowning with me are very low.” He became more earnest as he continued. “I will hold onto you. You will be safe with me… you have my word.”

At hearing his own words from all those months ago being thrown back at him, something flared in Arthur that he couldn’t quite name. The fact that Ludwig remembered what he said, took it to heart, and used it to reassure him in turn spoke volumes. Unsaid emotions.

Safety.

He’d be putting his life at risk, but he’d be putting it at risk for Ludwig. That made all the difference.

“Fine, okay I’ll do it.” Arthur conceded, feeling better already as the merman’s whole body immediately brightened up. “But seriously, don’t let go of me.”

Ludwig nodded enthusiastically. “Of course.”

In order to save at least one layer of clothing from getting soaked, Arthur tugged off his shirt, folding it neatly and placing it on one of the stone. After this, he sat down once again, and shifted to the edge of the shoreline, legs dangling in the water. Ludwig swam up to him, holding his arms out.

“Okay, now just slide in and I will catch you.” He reassured.

Arthur breathed in and out, calming his nerves. He was determined. He would do this, take this leap of faith and push himself. Counting to three in his head, Arthur blocked out his instincts that screamed for him to run from the death trap that was the ocean.

On three, he slid off the rocks.

It was immediate. Arthur threw his arms around Ludwig’s neck, holding on with a vice like grip, fingers clawing into the skin of his back. He smashed his face into the other’s neck, feeling gills pressing against his cheek. Arthur didn’t dare to look around, to actually see the water he could feel lapping at him, teasing and begging him to let go, to drown in their depths. But then, another feeling interrupted the water; Ludwig’s arms wrapped securely around his waist, holding Arthur to his chest. With a soft swish of his tail, Ludwig pushed them away from the shore, and they began drifting along the waves.

Minutes passed, and suddenly, the water shifting around them was no longer menacing, but gentle. Arthur unstuck his face from the crook of Ludwig’s neck, turning his head only to gasp when he saw the wide expanse of the ocean. Ludwig was drifting on his back, natural buoyancy keeping them afloat, allowing Arthur to rest atop him. He picked his head up farther, looking around in awe at the sheer beauty of it all. Arthur snaps his gaze back to Ludwig’s, abruptly realizing how close their faces were, noses almost touching. Ludwig stared at him through lidded eyes, his smile small and soft, taking in his reaction to what was essentially his home. Unable to utter a single word, all Arthur could do was smile back, throat constricting and chest tightening. He released his arms from around the merman’s neck, letting them fall into the water, feeling it tug him, caress him.

“Can you hold your breath for me?” Ludwig’s voice gently rumbled.

Arthur was in a daze, couldn’t think straight, so all he did was nod and suck in air.

His eyes reflexively shut against the bite of salt water as Ludwig submerged them, scrunching fiercely. Though once they adjusted, Arthur peeked through one, and both eyes flew wide open. It took all his willpower to hold in another gasp to prevent him from losing his slowly depleting supply of oxygen.

A world sprung alive underneath him, vivacious and full of movement. Seaweed swayed at the bottom, reaching up with long fingers towards the sun that broke through the waves, dotting the seafloor with patterns of light. Fish swam among them, looking for food along the plants and rocks. And littered around the formations on the floor were shells, dozens of them, all different shapes and sizes. Each had something unique, that set itself apart from the others. It took Arthur’s breath away, which unfortunately, was literally happening. He tapped Ludwig’s shoulder, signalling that he needed to go back up. Even though he wished he could stare at them for hours, analyze each one, he knew it would be hard to do if he were dead.

They broke through the waves, Arthur panting and grateful for the air that once again filled his lungs. He glanced up again at Ludwig, who still had that damn look on his face.

“That was… amazing.” He murmured, not disconnecting his eyes from Ludwig’s own.

“I am happy to hear this. I knew you would like it.” Ludwig grinned sweetly in response. It made Arthur’s heart jump.

“Hm. This kind of makes me want to take you into town. Show you how humans live.” Arthur gave him a lopsided, lazy grin. “Though I’d have to carry you everywhere.”

Ludwig’s smile dampened a bit. “Yes, I cannot go with you. But I am grateful that you can at least come here.”

That was true, and Arthur was quite happy that he could too. His grin became delicate, genuine and pliant, full of fondness. He tucked his head underneath Ludwig’s chin, letting the ocean lull him.

“Though I must ask, if you can’t swim, why did you work on a boat?”

“ Oh, quiet!”

Arthur hadn’t seen a storm this big since he was younger. The weather stations had issued a warning for his area, stating that the ocean would be vicious due to the ferocity of the impending thunderstorm. He couldn’t see Ludwig the day it hit, having to hurry home and seek out shelter from the winds. All night he was cooped up, windows boarded, making sure none of the doors were open. Arthur knew he’d be fine, but he was a nervous wreck all throughout it anyway. All he could think of was Ludwig, out there alone, facing the full wrath of the storm. The warnings of the weathermen echoed in his ears.

The ocean will be particularly rough, so port towns are advised to keep indoors!

God, he was going to vomit, puke up everything he ate that day because he was so terrified for the merman. Arthur couldn’t get the image out of his head of Ludwig being smashed against the rocks they meet at, his element turning against him.

Eventually, the power went out, which Arthur had already prepared for. He took some candles up to bed and read a book by their light, hoping it would take his mind off of the merman’s safety. Arthur couldn’t concentrate on the words, no matter how hard he tried. The wind howling and banging against his windows, the thunder echoing in the distance, all were grave reminders of what was at stake. He just ended up reading the same passage again and again. Arthur threw the book onto his nightstand. He grabbed the candle, blowing it out before burying himself under the covers. Tossing and turning for hours, Arthur hardly got any sleep at all, mind always drifting back to that horrid worry. It was only from exhaustion that his eyes finally shut for good.

Dawn broke in eery silence; no violent sound of rain. Arthur bolted out of bed, throwing open his window to see the outside world. There was hardly any damage, only some downed trees, but the power was still out. Arthur frantically got dressed and ready for the day, going a mile a minute through his morning routine. He ran right out the door, not bothering to grab his satchel or anything. Luckily, his work had closed for a couple days due to the storm, so Arthur could run right where he wanted to go. And run he did, practically sprinting down to the secluded beach.

When he finally reached the familiar shore, he noticed the debris scattered about the sand, but the ocean was calm again. Jogging to the rocks, he stood atop them and shouted for Ludwig, each time growing more and more desperate. He called and called, but there was no sign of the merman. Arthur felt panic begin to settle in, starting to hyperventilate as his worst fears were coming true. Yet he continued to shout, willing Ludwig to hear him. Minute passed, but to no avail. It seemed the merman wasn’t here. Cold, hard fear crawled along his skin.

Suddenly, the water rippled, and Ludwig exasperatedly surfaced, giving Arthur an incredulous look. Arthur felt numb with relief.

“Arthur? What are you doing here so early? I was not expecting you, that is why I was not here.”

Arthur just couldn’t respond, and just flung himself off the rocks instead, practically jumping on top of Ludwig.

The merman made a surprised sound, yet embraced Arthur, who after the initial splash of water, wrapped every limb he could around the other.

“God, Ludwig. Are you okay? I was so worried about how you would fair in this storm. Please tell me you’re okay. You’re not hurt, are you?” The questions were rapid fired into Ludwig’s shoulder, and Arthur was pretty sure he didn’t catch any of that.

“What? Arthur I am okay. I was safe in my den last night. I could tell the storm was coming.” Ludwig still sounded confused, but he reassured Arthur, tone soft.

Besides the relief, which was immense, another feeling bubbled up. One that had been suppressed and ignored, but everything that had happened had led up to its realization, to this moment. Now it all made sense; how people saw his change in mood, the warmth he felt inside, and that crushing panic that ensued when Arthur thought Ludwig to be in danger. The waters were no longer murky. They were clear, and reflected the truth perfectly. Arthur now understood.

“Hey, Ludwig?” He asked slowly, raising his head from the other’s shoulder to look at him face to face.

“Yes?”

“Do you know what humans do to show someone they love them?” Arthur’s voice had gone low, barely reaching above a whisper.

“No, I do not.”

Arthur continued to stare, teetering on the edge, but then finally falling in and committing. It didn’t feel real, but he leaned in, neck craning, lips inching closer before finally touching Ludwig’s gently, brushing lightly against them. Only lasting a second, Arthur pulled back, not wanting to be too forward with him, for he’s obviously never dealt with this type of interaction.

Ludwig looked contemplative, running his tongue over his lips briefly, keeping his gaze on Arthur.

“That means… you love me?” He asked, tentative.

A smile graced Arthur’s face, elated. “Yes,” he whispered, “it means I love you.” Just saying it, finally admitting it, felt like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Ludwig’s eyes went wide, and then he leaned in, mimicking Arthur’s earlier action. The press of his lips a bit too hard, a bit awkward, but Arthur could honestly care less. He guided the other into an easy rhythm, softening the kiss, mouth pliable.

They parted, Arthur opening his eyes to see Ludwig’s pale blue ones boring into his own.

“Then that means I love you too.”

“Seriously! You gotta tell me! No way you didn’t NOT get a girlfriend!”

Hannah had her hands planted firmly on his desk, inserting herself into Arthur’s space and demanding an answer.

Arthur only sighed, twirling a pen in his hand, other one propping his chin up, a dreamy smile on his face. Really, he looked more like a schoolgirl than a grown man!

“You know what? I think I did.” He responded lightly, laughing as her mouth flew open.

“What?! Oh my god, you’re giving me the details right now!” She pounced on him, ripping him to shreds with her questions, and Arthur could only grin.

#gereng #gereng week #aph germany #aph england #hetalia #HOOO BOY #this is practically late but ya kno #ive been so busy lately #this is about 8000 words what have i done #ludwig beilschmidt #arthur kirkland #axis powers hetalia

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marveliter · 6 years ago

Text

Invincible

Summary: Roberta Ross has the best life living with her mother and spending the summer with her best friend, but what happens when a certain someone shows up and flips her life upside down? She's asked to join a team of incredible people and fight alongside her incredible father, but does she want to?

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER ONE

Characters: OCs + Marvel Characters

Warnings: none :)

A/N: enjoy ;)

I climb onto the boat's ladder as I emerge from the water, and once on the boat, I dump my findings of seashells into a bucket. "Okay," I say once I take my mask off. "Let's head home," Ollie looks at me in shock, lifting his sunglasses up onto his forehead just so I can see his face. "It's only ten, what are we going to do for the rest of the day?" he asks. I shrug, "Sail around, maybe we can go out far enough so that under the water we can't see the bottom," Ollie shakes his head with fear in his eyes. "I'm kidding! Although, I'd like to see a shark with my own eyes, immersed in it's home instead if seeing it being held captive in a glass tank," "Being a marine biologist, you're going to have to place animals in captivity to study them," Ollie says. "I'll be kind to the animals," I say as I threw my tank top on over my bathing suit. "Where are my shorts?" Ollie points to my pink drawstring bag that sits on the bench opposite of him. He sips on a Coke with his foot bandaged and set on top of his drawstring bag. I laugh at him, which make shim stop drinking. "What?" he asks. "You look like a slum dog millionaire drinking pop on a boat with your feet propped up." I tell him.

He raises his pop and gestures to his foot. "Pure doctor's orders," I laugh at him while I pull my shorts on over my bottoms, pull up the anchor and then start the boat. We sailed for minutes towards home until we started seeing other boats for tourists and parties. People were tubing and children with life vests floated in the ocean, waving at us. We had to drive the boat slowly, because the cops around our neighborhood were very strict - especially in our neighborhood. Ollie was up on his feet now, wearing soft slides as to not hurt his foot. He was helping me prepare to turn left into the neighborhood. Our houses were tall and somewhat small, meant to be condos that were on the water side. Thing was, because there were so many houses and families with boats, the way for boats in between the houses felt really narrow. Once we could park Ollie's boat on the side in front of his house, it wouldn't take up the water way. When there are many boats trying to get through, it gets very claustrophobic and congested. Ollie's boat shouldn't even be parked in the water way, but there were many families around who had the same type of boat and some with yachts that did take up half the water way. My house was the very first one on the right, on the corner of the cement wall keeping the salt water waves from reaching my house. Just as we were coming up on our neighborhood, and I could see the Carolina blue color of my house, my phone began buzzing from my drawstring bag. It kept buzzing, not like someone was calling me, but sending me multiple texts every second. "I'll get it," Ollie says as he walks over. As he does, his phone goes off, but he doesn't check it until he reaches my bag. Ollie grows quiet, and when I ask him what's wrong he still doesn't reply. I slow down the boat and turn around to him. "Ollie-" "Stop the boat, Robbie - now," he says strongly, looking down at his phone. I do what he says as I approach him and my bag. "What's wrong?" I ask, leaning down to my bag, opening it and grabbing my phone. "It's your Mom," he says with confusion, looking over at me. I stare down at my lock screen, seeing all the texts from Mom that she sent a few seconds ago, one after another. Mom: Robbie don't come home Mom: stay where you are Mom: don't go to polly's house either Mom: i mean Ollie don't go to his houseeither Mom: is he with you? "What did my mom send you?" I felt fear creep up my spine. Ollie stares at me, biting his bottom lip. I see the same kind of fear in his eyes, his teeth now grit in confusion as he looks back down at his phone. "'Ollie if you're with Robbie don't go home with her and don't bring her home, go somewhere else I'll call you when it's okay to come back,'" he reads. My chest starts tightening as my heart pounds and my face flushes. I run my hands through my wet hair and pull in panic. "Why is she saying that?" I ask. "She's saying it like something's wrong," Ollie says, his thumbs dancing across the keyboard. "I just asked her why," I start texting Mom back frantically.

Me: Mom whats wring? Me: wrong Me: are you okay? Me: answer me plz Me: youre scaring Ollie anf I Me: im coming home rn

I stick my phone in my back pocket and turn back to the wheel. "Ollie, get ready to call the police," I say as I start the boat back up and take it slowly but fast enough to head into my neighborhood. "Robbie - wait!" Ollie says just as I start driving faster. "Your mom just texted," I turn to him just as I slow the boat. "She says, 'Hide Robbie,'" His phone chimed again. "'Do it now if you're almost home' - she's not saying what's wrong!" "Let's do a drive-by," I tell him, moving to the bench where my bag rests on top. Inside the bench when I open it are life vests, and as I step in I tell Ollie to take the wheel. "Where do we go after?" he asks. "I guess anywhere but home!" I shout. "Go slow too, I need to see what's wrong, and then I'll call the cops," I didn't close the bench until Ollie was about to turn the boat into the neighborhood. Keeping it slightly open with my fingers, Ollie goes horrifyingly slow. "Do you see anything?" I ask. Ollie turns his head towards my house. "No one in the yard, but there's people inside," he whispers loud enough for me to hear. I can't see a thing from what thought I could from here, but suddenly Ollie curses and looks away from the house. "Close the bench," he quietly snaps. After I close the bench, just leaving the tip of my finger to keep it open for air, I can hear an unfamiliar voice from my yard yell at Ollie. "Can I help you sir?" the voice asks. Ollie stops cuts the boat's engine. He clears his throat, "You? Maybe not, but your friends might," "Sir, this work is none of your business, so please continue on," "I can't sir," Ollie says. "Where's Miss Ross?" "She's busy," the voice says. "Important business," "Don't tell me she's switching fishing companies," Ollie says. I'm as confused as the man the voice belongs to when he grows quiet. "Excuse me?" "I'm Oliver O'Malley, my grandparents are in association with Tobuck's Fishing, I'm Miss Ross's delivery boy for shrimp and fish. I need to speak to her now about an important delivery she has that needs her permission to go through," Ollie explains. He was a good liar, but he basically called me a sack of fish. I roll my eyes as I can just barely see him looking over at the bench I was in. I don't hear the man anymore, and when I call out to Ollie I hear him shush me hard. The sound of many footsteps a moment later catches my attention, and soon I hear my mother's voice. "Ollie," she says, but it's not her voice. It's not her sweet soft, cheery voice. Instead it's shaky and sad, like last night but worse. "H-Hey Miss Ross," Ollie says awkwardly. "I have the fish and shrimp delivery ready to go, but I need your decision whether to hold onto it for one more day or send it by later," he pauses for a second before saying. "Looks like you had that party a little bit early." "Oh, um. . .could you hold onto the fish and shrimp for one more day? I could call your grandparents when I need it by tomorrow. Thank you, Ollie," Mom says, her voice breaking a little bit more. "Miss Ross, are you okay?" Ollie asks. A new voice steps in, another man with a scratchy, calming voice. "She's alright son," the man says. Ollie glances at my bench and looks back to the people I can't see. "Miss Ross," Ollie says, ignoring the man. "Are you okay?" "She's fine young man," a deep, terrifying voice interjects. "You better leave now," Ollie is silent for a few moments, but then the man with the calming voice asks, "What was your name, son?" "Oliver O'Malley," Ollie replies. "Yours?" "Thank you, Ollie," Mom interjects. "I'll call your grandparents later," In a matter of seconds, Ollie turns the engine back on and takes it slow to sail away from my house. I wait until I feel the boat turn right into another neighborhood, and Ollie stopping the boat. He scares me by opening the bench out of nowhere. "Sorry!" he exclaims as he sees me jump and shriek. "Who was it? What did they look like?" I ask, getting out of the bench. My body felt tight now, but I ignored it as Ollie shrugged. "The first guy was white and in a grey suit, then your mom came out looking like she had just cried, and the man standing next to her was kind of tan with brown hair and glasses. He wasn't wearing a suit, he wore a button shirt and khakis. He looked way nicer than the other guys," Ollie explains. "What did the man with the deep voice look like?" Ollie and I move to the steering wheel as he starts the boat up one last time. He shivered looking forward and remembering. "Tall and big, dressed in all black - and get this - dude had an eye patch," he says with wide eyes. "There were two guys and one lady watching from the backdoor, they all dressed differently too, just in normal clothes but they looked so intimidating." "That's it? Six people?" I ask, crossing my arms. Ollie nods as we pause for a bit at a cross section, letting another boat pass through. While that happens, I take a look around in thought, biting my lip as I lean against the boat's railings. Mom is a cellular biologist at the local hospital; I've met all her coworkers and bosses, even doctors out of state that call on her when the need her help. None of their voices were remotely close to the people I know in her field. The men didn't sound like they were there for help in cellular biology. Suddenly, I hear the sound of a small raft motor boat, and looking to my left, I see three people in the boat. Their faces were stern, murderous even, and one man who was blonde and built very strong points at me. The boat starts going faster. "Ollie go!" I shout. Ollie looks at me, then to the motor boat, and his eyes grow wide and he curses and pushes the shift forward, which makes the boat jump into action across the section and forward into the long-winding water way. "How'd they see me?" I shout, holding onto the bar the control box for the wheel as the boat does violent little jumps in the water. Ollie doesn't answer as he's too busy panicking and making the boat go full throttle. "When need to lose them!" I shout as we violently turn a corner, sending waves up on the yards over the cement wall, splashing an old couple who sun bathe. "Go faster!" Just as I say it, Ollie starts slowing down fast. "Ollie!" "Trust me, Robbie!" he snaps out of fear. Soon, the boat is at the correct speed through the neighborhood, and though it's painful my anxiety starts causing me to panic. "Why are they after us?" I whisper as we pass a police boat, who floats in front of the way to a col de sac. Ollie smiles and waves at him, and through grit teeth says, "Remember that guy?" He means the officer in the boat, who I wave to, but have no memory of. "He pulled us over last summer for speeding through here, I almost fought him because there's no limit, and tourists always come in fast through here," The sound of the motorboat enters behind us as we start to turn left out of the way and into a new neighborhood. I watch as the motorboat speeds passed the officer, who immediately throws on his sirens and grabs a megaphone. The motorboat stops, and Ollie's takes off. We round a whole other neighborhood way that reroutes us back to the open ocean. Once out on the ocean, riding fast, I sigh heavily and turn to Ollie. "What do they want from my mom? Why do they look like they want to murder us?" He shrugs and shakes his head, "I have no idea, but we're heading far away from here," "They can't find us, right?" "I don't know how they could,"

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