#lenny the sea beast

[kinny-21]

I no joke had to edit this picture before I posted it bc it was SOOO bright😭😭, Here he is ORMR!!!, I wasted sm time in class working on this😔😔😔😔😔

The old fart HIS HAIR IS NOT BIG I PROMISE HES JUST IN WATER

[moeitsu]

The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 2 - The Pearl Does Not Mourn The Shell Summary: Charles performs a delicate surgery on Arthur, carefully removing embedded fragments and stabilizing his condition while revealing startling details about his unique anatomy. As the procedure unfolds, you grapple with the profound connection you've formed with Arthur, confronting both the cruelty he's endured and the overwhelming pull between you. wc: 8k tw: blood, gore, descriptions of monster anatomy Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

In the several months I'd been working for Heartland's Aquatic Rehabilitation and Restoration Program, I had never seen Charles Smith—our unshakable, seen-it-all marine vet—look so utterly dumbfounded.

"Christ, John, you seriously weren't kidding." He muttered into his fist, resting his elbow on one knee as he crouched to Arthur's level, eyes scanning every inch of the impossible sight before him.

The minutes leading up to Charles' arrival had been tense, filled with John's grumbling about how much convincing it had taken to get him out here. Apparently, Charles thought the whole thing was a joke—until John's persistence, and maybe the sheer desperation in his voice, finally wore him down.

Now, watching his gaze trace Arthur's long, scaled form with barely concealed awe, I felt only slightly vindicated.

"He's some kind of merman, isn't he?" I asked before I could stop myself. The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. It sounded ridiculous. Childish, even. Magical sea creatures belonged in bedtime stories, not in the real world—not bleeding out on the beach beneath my hands.

And yet... what else could I call this beautiful beast dying before us?

Charles clicked his tongue, standing up to stretch his back as he slowly walked around Arthur's long torso and tail, taking in every detail. "I'm inclined to say yes." He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Or more specifically, a Siren. Though I'm nowhere near qualified to make that call."

Arthur's reaction was immediate. His slitted blue eyes narrowed further, dark and untrusting, watching Charles like a cornered animal sizing up a new predator. He tried to turn his torso to follow Charles' movements, but the motion sent a fresh jolt of pain through his body. He winced, his muscles seizing.

Instinctively I knelt closer, pressing a warm reassuring hand to his shoulder. I could feel John's eyes burning a hole in the back of my head as he took in the familial gesture. But I ignored it, Arthur seemed to welcome my touch, and right now he desperately needed a friend.

"We need to get him back into the water," I said, glancing at Charles. "His gills are drying up, and the salt will help clean the wound."

Charles gave a sharp nod. "Agreed. We can figure out what he is later. Right now, we need to move him." He turned toward the shoreline, motioning to the little pilot boat rocking against the current as it was brought up to the beach. "I've got the medical supplies on the Atlantis. Lenny's waiting for me onboard. If we can get him into the boat I'll take care of the rest."

Lenny Summers was Charles' veterinary technician assistant—a college intern earning credits over the summer. Bright, eager, and probably not even remotely prepared for whatever the hell this was. The more people we brought into this, the more the reality of what we were doing finally settled in. And that frightened me.

Or rather, it frightened Arthur.

The thought of putting him through more discomfort, of forcing him into the unknown with strangers, made my chest ache. But he was in pain, bleeding out and losing strength with every passing minute. I trusted these people with my life. When it came to aquatic rescues, we pulled together like a well-oiled machine. We had to. It was our purpose and our pride.

John, however, was the most apprehensive. And he wasn't sold on the idea of helping him yet.

"We're really doing this?" He shot me a look, exasperation written all over his face as he watched Charles jog toward the boat to push it back into the water in preparation for the move. "We're really bringing this thing back to central? Do we even know if this is .... safe?"

A huff of irritation slipped past my lips before I could stop it.

Thing.

The word felt wrong. Cruel, even. It reduced him to something lesser—something disposable. And yet, how could I call him anything else when I still didn't fully understand what he was? But I did know one thing: Arthur wasn't just some mindless creature washed up on the sand, some anomaly to be studied and cataloged like a rare fish. He was someone.

He had a name.

He had feelings.

He had pain. I could see it in the way his body tensed, the way his gills flared with each labored breath. In the way he reacted to my touch, that brief shimmer of light that sent my heart leaping. I could see it in the haunted depths of his eyes, dark and sharp, filled with something distinctly aware. He wasn't just reacting to the world around him—he was understanding it. He was understanding me.

Not only did he recognize my words, but he had trusted me enough to answer them. To give me his name. That alone meant something. It meant everything.

Because a thing wouldn't have done that. A thing wouldn't have looked at me the way he did, with wariness and fear, but also something softer, something vulnerable. A thing wouldn't have been able to trust. And if he could trust me, then I owed him more than being dismissed as some nameless thing.

"John," I sighed, shaking my head. "Come on. There's a risk that comes with every job, you know this."

He wasn't heartless. Just blunt, practical, and—if I had to guess—mildly horrified by the entire situation. And truthfully I couldn't blame him. John wasn't a marine biologist or a vet. He was a maintenance technician for the rehab center, responsible for keeping the lights, pumps, and filters running. Hell, the guy couldn't even swim! But more than that, he was Hosea's son, and his father had instilled in him the same core values that ran through the foundation of this program. And I'll be damned if that man didn't put his heart into every creature we rescued, no matter their size, their condition, or the risk.

So, I gave him a pointed look and asked, "What would Hosea say about this?"

John opened his mouth to argue, but I beat him to it.

"We save those who need saving. Protect those who need protecting."

John exhaled hard through his nose. I could see the moment he caved, his shoulders slumping in reluctant resignation.

"And give all creatures a fighting chance," he grumbled, finishing the mantra we all knew by heart.

Exactly. And Arthur? He deserved that chance.

I couldn't help but smile. Things were finally coming together—we were going to get Arthur some help, whether John liked it or not.

I glanced down at him. His body was trembling from pain and blood loss, but his focus wasn't on his wounds. He was watching the men's movements like a hawk, his sharp eyes darting between them, tracking every step, every shift in posture. It seemed like the male of my species was only good at setting him on edge.

"It'll be okay, Arthur," I murmured softly.

At the sound of his name, he twitched, his gills flaring slightly.

"We're going to get you the help you need. Just try to relax."

It felt strange, comforting something that wasn't quite human, yet it came as naturally as breathing. I didn't know why his well-being had become so important to me, why the thought of his suffering made my chest ache. He looked utterly beautiful and broken. How could someone do something like this to him? It made my heart fill with anger and a burning need for justice. All I knew was that I wanted to ease his pain. That I needed to.

When Charles returned, we quickly revised a plan to get him to the boat. With his sheer size and the wound sapping his strength, it was going to be nearly impossible to move him without causing more pain.

"Let's try dragging him into the shallows first," Charles instructed. "Once he's in the water, we can maneuver him onto the mat and move it back to the boat." He glanced between John and me, rubbing his chin in thought. "John, you take the tail. I'll grab his, uh... shoulders."

The moment the men stepped forward and took hold, Arthur reacted.

A sharp, fearful cry tore from his throat, the kind of sound that came from deep within the chest—primal, instinctive, desperate. His entire body locked up, muscles rigid as if bracing for a blow. His fingers twitched, then dug into the damp sand, claws sinking deep, scraping against the shifting grains as if trying to anchor himself, to stop whatever was coming.

Panic rolled off of him in waves, his chest rising and falling in erratic, shallow gasps. His gills flared wildly, his breath hitching like a drowning man just barely keeping his head above the waves. His tail trembled, not in pain, but in fear. I felt his mood shift like the wind. A fear so intense it crackled in the air between us like a coming storm.

I could see it in his eyes—wide, dark, filled with something close to terror. It wasn't just the pain making him react this way. It was them. It clicked in the back of my mind, a realization as cold as the seawater lapping at our feet.

He does not trust men. A man must have been the one to do this to him.

Oh, I should have known. Men have always had a way of ruining what they cannot control, of breaking what they cannot possess. I will never understand why—why something as breathtaking as Arthur, something so otherworldly and rare, could be seen as nothing more than something to take. To own. To conquer.

Power and greed have driven men to do unspeakable things—to the land, to the sea, to each other. History is littered with the bones of what was once beautiful, turned to dust in the hands of those who saw value only in domination. Arthur was no different, he was not safe from their cruel hands.

Someone had looked upon him, upon the sheer wonder of his existence, and instead of reverence, they saw opportunity. They saw something to be used, or worse—defiled. And like so many things before him, he had suffered for it.

"Wait! Stop!" I shouted, throwing my arms out in front of them. "He's afraid of you, afraid of your touch."

The urgency in my voice made them freeze, but John let out an annoyed groan. "Are you serious?"

"Talk to him," I insisted, glancing down at Arthur's rigid form. His tail twitched, the thick muscle spasming as if preparing to flee—but there was nowhere for him to go. "Explain what you're doing before you just grab him like that."

John scoffed. "You really think he understands a damn word we're saying?"

"Yes," I said firmly, eyes locked onto Arthur's terrified expression. "He does. He's just scared. I'm afraid whatever he's been through is far worse than we can imagine. Just talk to him, please. I promise he understands. He told me his name is Arthur."

Silence stretched between us. John looked skeptical, but Charles gave me a considerate look before nodding.

"Alright. But we need to move quickly—he's losing too much blood."

I moved into position near Arthur's torso, carefully placing my hands just above where his human skin gave way to shimmering scales. His breathing was uneven, and when I pressed lightly, I could feel the tension running through every fiber of him, muscles wound so tight they trembled. Trying not to stare at his gaping wound, I met his eyes and gave him a soft, reassuring smile.

Charles cleared his throat and crouched beside us. "Uh... Arthur. My name's Charles. I'm a vet. Well, a doctor I s'pose. I–um–I help sea creatures when they're hurt." He spoke slowly, making sure Arthur was watching his mouth, and his hands. "We need to get you into the water. It'll help you breathe better." Charles gestured to the water than to his own neck, inhaling and exhaling exaggeratedly.

Arthur's eyes flicked to him, his expression wary. I could feel his hesitation, his body still rigid beneath my hands.

"Once we get you there, we'll move you onto a rubber mat and tow you to my boat," Charles continued, motioning toward the water where the pilot boat bobbed in the waves. "From there, we'll take you back to the center where I can examine you—make sure you'll be okay."

Arthur didn't move. His shoulders remained tight, his jaw clenched, but something in his gaze flickered—uncertainty, trust warring against fear.

I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. "Charles wouldn't hurt a shark even if it bit his finger off. You can trust him. You can trust us."

To my surprise, John chimed in, albeit gruffly. "Charles is good people," he said. "You'll be safe with him. I can promise that."

Arthur's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his body still coiled with tension—but slowly, ever so slightly, he allowed it.

"Alright," Charles exhaled. "Let's move."

On the count of three, we lifted him.

A sickening suction sound came from the sand as his body peeled away, his thick, sluggish blood turning it into something almost cement-like, making every movement more difficult. Arthur hissed sharply, his claws scraping uselessly at the shifting grains beneath him before taking purchase against my shoulder. His movements were heavy, and I could feel the tips of his claws, but my body was the least of my concerns.

We didn't hesitate. The moment we had him up, we moved as quickly as possible toward the water, uncaring as the waves crashed against our thighs. My legs ached with the weight, but I focused only on Arthur, on his face, the way his dark blond hair fanned out in the wind, strands clinging to his damp skin.

But as soon as the seawater lapped against his wound, everything went to hell.

Arthur sucked in a sharp, wheezing breath, his entire body jolting with pain. His clawed hand squeezed my arm, his fingers trembling violently. I braced for the sting of his claws, expecting him to dig into my flesh again, but instead—

A guttural, pained noise tore from his throat.

"H-hurts..."

The rasping, barely formed word made my stomach plummet.

John recoiled, nearly dropping his lower half. "Holy shit!"

I barely had time to process the horror in John's voice before Arthur convulsed violently.

"Hold on—" I started, but before we could react, his entire body seized, muscles spasming.

And then—he retched. We lost our grip as he lurched forward, vomiting into the water, his entire frame wracked with violent tremors. The sudden movement sent us stumbling, struggling to steady him, to help him, but every jolt of his body sent another agonized groan from his lips. The waves crawled higher, their force threatened to pull us down. John couldn't go out much further or he risked drowning.

This was too much. Too fast. He was already so weak, and this was making him sick.

"We need to move now!" I shouted, my voice laced with panic.

Charles was already running toward the boat, grabbing the rope and pulling it toward us. The rubber mat was secured in a net, the same one we used to transport large animals from the shore to the rescue center. It had carried dolphins and sea turtles home before, but looking at it now, I wasn't sure it would be enough to hold Arthur.

Still, it was our only option.

John and I maneuvered Arthur toward the net as gently as possible, but every shift, every touch made him shudder in pain. He let out low, agonized whines, his hands twitching like he was fighting the instinct to struggle, to flee.

I wanted to tell him it was okay. That we were almost there. That this nightmare would be over soon. But the moment his exhausted body slumped into the net, I wasn't sure if he even had the strength left to believe me.

Now came phase two: getting him somewhere safe.

"I'll take him from here. Lenny's starting the engines now—meet back at central, yeah?" Charles called as he hauled himself into the boat, already jerking the rope-start until the motor roared to life, shattering the stillness of the night with its low, guttural rumble.

The moment the engine flared, Arthur flinched. His entire body tensed, his fins bristling, and before I could react, his hand shot out—grasping for something, for me.

My breath hitched.

His fingers, cold and slick from the seawater, wrapped around my arm—not forceful, not clawing, just holding. Seeking.

My heart thundered in my ears.

He was scared, and he turned to me. He was hurting, and he wanted me. The thought made my pulse race. What the hell am I even thinking?

His grip was firm but careful, as if afraid of causing me more harm. His deep blue eyes, dark as the depths he came from, locked onto mine, wide and pleading. The unspoken desperation in them clenched something deep in my chest. He didn't want me to leave.

"It's alright, honey," I whispered, curling my fingers over his. "I'll be right behind you. It's a short ride—we'll see each other again soon."

But my reassurance wasn't enough. His hand tightened ever so slightly, his silent plea pressing into my skin. I looked up at Charles, who was watching the exchange carefully from his seat in the boat. He saw the look in Arthur's eyes. The same look that was making it impossible for me to let go.

Charles exhaled sharply, then nodded.

"Get in."

I didn't need to be told twice.

I barely registered the way the boat dipped under my weight as I climbed in, my attention still locked on Arthur. Even as Charles revved the engine again, sending a new vibration through the small vessel, Arthur didn't let go until I was fully seated beside him. Only then did his fingers finally loosen, his body slumping slightly, as if the last of his fight had drained from him now that I was here.

John, still knee-deep in the water, didn't question my choice to go with them. He was already wading back to shore, calling out over his shoulder. "I'll head over and get a tank set up—meet you guys out back by the docking station."

Charles lifted a hand in acknowledgment, adjusting the throttle as we started to pull away from the shore.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted over the growing distance, "Thanks, Marston—guess I owe you one for not getting eaten!" I teased.

John scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah—just don't make a habit of rescuing sea monsters with bigger teeth than me!"

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't fight the small smile tugging at my lips.

As we rolled steadily through the waves, the boat cutting a quiet path through the dark water, I found myself unable to look away from Arthur.

The sea cradled him, the gentle rise and fall of the waves lapping at his body as if beckoning him home. His hair, damp and tangled, fanned out around his face, strands clinging to his forehead and cheekbones, catching the moonlight in silvered streaks. He looked otherworldly like this—half-draped in shadow, half-illuminated by the cold glow of the night, a creature caught between two worlds.

I leaned over the side, the salty wind curling around me, and with the back of my finger, I carefully brushed a strand of hair from his face. His skin was damp beneath my touch, cooler than I expected, but solid, real. He didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Only watched me with tired blue eyes.

His tail, impossibly long and heavy, hung over the edge of the net, draped at an awkward angle. Even now, with the weight of exhaustion pressing into him, the powerful muscle beneath the iridescent scales seemed restless, twitching faintly with every shift of the boat. The moonlight danced across its surface, catching on deep purples and midnight blues, reflecting colors I had never seen in any ocean-dwelling creature before. I couldn't help but wonder what it would look like in motion—how it might cut through the water with effortless grace, how the strength of it could propel him through the depths like a phantom of the sea.

He exhaled slowly, a shuddering breath that told me how much pain he was still in, how much energy it was taking just to be here. But even as his body trembled with exhaustion, his eyes never left mine.

Dark, slitted, full of something that felt like a deepening connection. I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

I had no idea what I'd just signed myself up for. But I knew, without a doubt, that I wasn't letting him go.

⋅─⊱༺ 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ༻⊰─⋅

By the time we arrived, John already had one of the portable rehabilitation pools set up. It was a simple structure—three feet deep, circular, not nearly big enough for Arthur to swim freely. But at this point, rest and medical attention were far more important than movement.

Moving him from the dock to the tank was an ordeal. Excruciating, even. Arthur was heavy, his body limp from exhaustion, and every shift elicited a barely audible groan of pain. It took all four of us—John, Charles, Lenny, and myself—to maneuver him from one place to another. John secured the ropes around the mat, bracing himself as Charles, Lenny, and I heaved with everything we had. Muscles burned. Breath came short. But after several agonizing moments, Arthur finally slipped into the water with a dull splash.

Charles immediately left for the lab to grab his tools, while Lenny darted to his office in search of anything—a textbook, an encyclopedia, a scrap of knowledge that might tell us how the hell to care for this creature. Essentially, we were all grasping in the dark. But we had to try.

Because Arthur's life was slipping away with the tide.

His body barely reacted to the movement anymore, his exhaustion so deep it was as if his mind had already begun retreating. That was not a good sign.

Once we managed to maneuver him onto a small raised platform within the pool—a stable place where we could examine him without fully submerging him—I finally got my first good look at him under the bright lights.

I barely noticed that my clothes were soaked, clinging to my skin in the humid warmth of the facility. All I could focus on was him.

Under the harsh glow of the overhead fluorescents, his iridescent beauty dimmed. His slitted pupils narrowed further, not from fear this time, but as a biological response—filtering the light. My first thought was that his natural habitat must be dark, perhaps underwater caves or deep ocean trenches. Somewhere far from the reach of men.

Then my gaze shifted downward.

Scars.

Not just the fresh wound bleeding sluggishly from his abdomen, but old ones. Evidence of past suffering etched into his skin like an unspoken history. Some were thin, mere whispers of pain long healed, while others were brutal—deep, jagged reminders of wounds that had once bled as freely as the one we fought to mend now.

They shimmered beneath the water, their silvery-blue hue catching the light like polished opal beneath the skin. The edges of some were raised, the texture of thickened scar tissue standing out against the otherwise smooth expanse of his scales. Others had left behind gaps, places where iridescence had been stripped away, leaving dull, uneven patches behind.

Near the base of his tail, where it flared outward in elegant, fin-like extensions, a particularly thick scar curled around the muscle—its shape unmistakable. It wrapped around like a noose, the flesh there rawer-looking than the rest, as if something had bitten deep, tightened, and held. A rope burn. A restraint. Proof that he had been bound.

A sick feeling coiled in my gut. Someone had tried to claim him. To own him.

John cleared his throat, standing on the platform next to the pool. For once, there was no sarcasm, no skepticism in his expression—just grim understanding. For the first time, he was really seeing the extent of the damage Arthur had endured.

"He's in bad shape," John muttered. His voice was quieter than usual, like speaking too loudly might shatter something fragile. "You sure someone did this to him? Could've been an animal—fighting over food, territory, or..." He hesitated, then sighed. "A mate?"

It was a logical assumption. John always saw things through the lens of nature—where creatures acted on instinct, not cruelty. He understood that better than anyone. The scars that marred his chin, cheek, and nose were proof of that.

I knew the story well. A year before I'd come along, John had nearly died rescuing an ancient alligator, an old beast with jaws powerful enough to crush bone. He'd been alone, and in the chaos of the rescue, the gator had turned on him, snapping its massive jaws around his face. Somehow, miraculously, he survived. And yet, not once had he blamed the creature.

Because animals didn't hate. They didn't torture.

Men, on the other hand...

I flexed my fingers, and pain flared up my wrist. The wound Arthur had given me throbbed, likely reopening from the exertion. I made a mental note to change the bandages when this was all over.

I guess now I'd have my own scars to match John's.

I shook my head. "These aren't natural wounds," I said firmly. "They were deliberate. The flesh around his wrists is torn—like he was bound." My voice wavered, anger and grief mixing into something heavy in my chest. "And his tail... there are marks where scales should be, like he was tied to something."

John exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. He didn't argue. Didn't try to offer another explanation. Because deep down, we both knew.

I swallowed hard and let my gaze drift lower, where skin met scales. My stomach clenched as my eyes landed on the gaping slit, the deep, angry wound that should not have been there.

Arthur's mating slit had been mutilated. There was no question about it now. This wasn't an accident. This wasn't nature.

This was human cruelty.

John leaned forward for a closer look—and audibly winced.

"Well..." he muttered after a beat, rubbing a hand down his face. "He's in good hands now."

As if on cue, Charles stormed back into the room, dressed in a wetsuit and carrying a bucket full of medical tools.

"I've gotta get home to Abi and Jack," John said, shaking his head with a humorless chuckle. "They're not gonna believe a damn word of this."

As he turned toward the exit, Charles laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's keep this quiet until Hosea gets a look in the morning," he said. "Warden Adler's gonna have a field day with all the paperwork."

John gave a short nod, then disappeared through the door.

As soon as it clicked shut, Charles dropped down into the water, setting the bucket on the platform. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves and reached for a bottle of orange iodine. I followed his lead, tugging on my own gloves before laying out his tools. Right now, this was just an examination. Once we understood what we were dealing with, then we could prepare for surgery.

"Lenny's getting the heating pads ready," Charles murmured as he worked, his focus already locked on Arthur's still form. "He's also mixing a small dose of morphine and amoxicillin into the water—should help him relax."

"How's he doing?"

I exhaled. "Bout as good as he looks."

Arthur lay motionless on the platform, his eyes lidded, his breathing shallow. The rhythmic flare of his gills was soft—too soft. His body was struggling to regulate oxygen, the sluggish movement of his operculum suggesting respiratory distress. Shudders wracked his frame at irregular intervals, a clear sign of metabolic exhaustion, likely from prolonged stress and blood loss. His dermal layer, normally slick and hydrated, appeared pallid in some areas, the delicate membrane at the edges of his fins already beginning to dry.

I quickly grabbed a small electric siphon, submerging one end into the water while using the other to gently trickle cool, saline-rich seawater over his gills and along his body. The moisture would help maintain an osmotic balance, preventing dehydration and further physiological strain while we worked to stabilize him.

Charles frowned but said nothing, reaching for the stethoscope around his neck. He pressed the cold diaphragm to Arthur's chest, his brows furrowing almost immediately. He moved it to another spot. Then another.

"That's..." He trailed off, eyes widening slightly. "That's incredible."

I stiffened. "What?"

Charles pulled the scope away, draping it around his neck again as he lifted Arthur's wrist to check a pulse. When he looked at me, there was a strange mix of awe and urgency in his expression.

"He has two hearts. Two separate pulses."

My mouth parted, the weight of the revelation settling over me. Two hearts.

Without thinking, I leaned in, pressing my cheek against Arthur's chest. He was warm, alive. And then—

There it was.

A second beat, a second rhythm—steady yet fragile, like the ebb and flow of the tide. Two hearts pulsing in tandem beneath my skin, their cadence slightly off-sync, creating a melody that was both foreign and mesmerizing. It was deeper than a human heartbeat, stronger. A low, thrumming vibration that resonated through my fingertips, like the distant rumble of waves crashing against the ocean floor. I could feel him everywhere—not just beneath my hand, but in the space between breaths, in the weight of the water around us, in the quiet, unspoken connection passing between us.

Before I could process it, a new sound reached my ears—deep within his chest, muffled. Like listening through water. A rumble of sorts. Soft, rhythmic, soothing even. A sound that felt content, almost like...

Purring.

But before I could make sense of it, Charles cleared his throat. His expression had darkened, his attention locked on the wound below Arthur's abdomen.

His jaw tightened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was grim. "It looks like a deep puncture from a serrated object. The surrounding tissue shows signs of severe trauma, with multiple lacerations radiating outward, suggesting the weapon was forcibly removed. The uneven tearing indicates that barbs or jagged edges caught on the muscle, intensifying the damage. There's significant swelling and inflammation, and given the sluggish bleeding, he's already lost a dangerous amount of blood. We need to clean and close this quickly before sepsis sets in."

I watched as Charles' gentle hands pressed lightly around the torn flesh, his fingers careful but firm as he assessed the extent of the damage. Arthur twitched beneath his touch, a faint tremor rolling through his abdomen, but he didn't fight. The tissue was inflamed, the edges of the wound swollen and raw, the deep gash weeping sluggish, dark blood. When Charles carefully prodded the area just beneath the torn skin, Arthur's muscles tensed, a low, pained whimper vibrating from his chest.

It felt wrong to witness this. Wrong to see him like this, laid out and vulnerable, his body carved open like something to be studied rather than saved. My throat tightened with something dangerously close to guilt, as if my presence alone was an intrusion, as if I had no right to be here. The wound was so personal, a violence inflicted not just on his body but on him. Whoever had done this hadn't just tried to kill him—they had tried to take something from him, to take away some part of what he was.

I had to remind myself that we were here to help. That this wasn't an autopsy or an examination—it was a fight to keep him alive.

As Charles was about to speak again, a deep rumbling voice filled the silence. It was strained, and almost incomprehensible.

"Har—poon." Arthur breathed.

The word sent a chill through me.

Harpoon.

A weapon made for hunting. For killing.

I felt my stomach lurch as the implications settled in. Someone had done this to him on purpose. Someone had looked at Arthur—not as a living being, not as something intelligent or sentient—but as prey. As a trophy.

Charles' jaw flexed, his hands stilling over the wound. His usual clinical detachment wavered, giving way to something darker—something close to anger.

"A harpoon," he echoed, voice low. "Son of a bitch."

I tried to imagine it-the pain and the fear.

The sheer agony he must have endured as cold metal tore through flesh not meant to be pierced. How long had he suffered with it lodged inside him, the jagged edges digging deeper with every movement? How desperate must he have been to rip it out of his own body, his instincts driving him to escape, no matter the cost? Had he been hunted? Dragged from the water, struggling against the ropes that bound him? Had he looked into the eyes of his captors and seen nothing but greed, nothing but ownership?

No one deserved that. No creature, no person.

I glanced at Arthur, watching the slow, pained rise and fall of his chest. He had survived something unthinkable. Something that should have killed him. And yet, here he was-clinging to life, trusting us, trusting me.

Arthur flinched slightly at the curse, his gills fluttering as his breathing hitched. I reached out instinctively, placing a hand on his arm. He was cold to the touch, his body trembling despite the warmth of the water.

"You're safe now," I murmured, my fingers brushing over his damp skin. "No one's going to hurt you again."

His gaze flickered to mine, pupils dilated from pain, exhaustion heavy in his expression. But beneath it all, I could still see the trust lingering there—the fragile, unspoken understanding between us.

Then, a tear slipped down his cheek.

It caught the dim light, iridescent and heavy, like a fragment of the ocean itself. Not the clear, fleeting tears of a human, but something denser, more substantial. It clung to his skin for a moment before falling, landing on the platform with a barely audible plink. When I glanced down, I saw it resting there, round and smooth, like a tiny, imperfect pearl.

My breath caught. Monsters can cry.

The realization sank into me, heavy and inescapable. Arthur wasn't just some enigmatic creature from the depths—he felt. He suffered. He mourned. And there was something hauntingly, devastatingly beautiful about that.

Charles exhaled sharply through his nose and pushed back from the wound. "We need to get this cleaned and stitched now. I don't like how much blood he's lost."

I nodded, steeling myself. "What do you need me to do?"

He gestured toward the bucket of supplies. "Start by flushing the wound. We need to clear out any debris before we even think about sutures."

I reached for a saline bottle and some gauze, carefully pouring the solution over the torn flesh. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body jerking at the sensation. His hand shot up, gripping my wrist—not as tight as before, but enough to make me pause.

I met his eyes again.

"It's alright," I soothed, rubbing my thumb over the back of his knuckles. "I know it hurts, but this will help. Just breathe, Arthur."

His fingers twitched, then slowly, reluctantly, he let me go.

Charles worked quickly, his hands steady as he examined the deeper damage. His brows were furrowed in concentration, lips pressed into a firm line as he carefully maneuvered around the torn flesh.

"The good news is that the wound is mostly superficial—no major organs were damaged," Charles said, his voice steady but grim. He paused, lifting a bloodied fragment of jagged metal between his fingers. Small but wickedly sharp, it gleamed under the sterile light, slick with Arthur's blood.

"The bad news," he continued, shifting his attention back to the wound, "is that there's still a significant fragment embedded deeper in the tissue. It's lodged between the muscle layers, likely near the ventral nerve pathways. If we don't remove it, there's a high risk of infection, necrosis, or even nerve damage."

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. "We have to get it out."

Charles nodded grimly, wiping his gloved hands on a sterile cloth. "Yeah. But it's deep, and judging by his pain response, it's close to something sensitive." His gaze flickered to Arthur's face, his expression unreadable. "This isn't going to be easy on him."

Arthur let out a low, uneasy sound—almost a growl. He might not have understood every word, but he knew what was coming. His claws flexed slightly, his tail twitching in agitation despite his exhaustion.

I took a breath, pressing my palm lightly against his chest, just above one of his two hearts. His skin was warmer there, the faint rhythmic pulsing steady beneath my fingers.

"We're going to fix this," I promised. "But it's going to hurt. You need to trust us."

For a long moment, he didn't move.

Then, slowly, his gills flared in what might have been a sigh, his body relaxing deeper. A silent surrender. Hopefully it was a sign that the morphine in the water was easing his pain. What he was about to endure would be excruciating.

Charles gave me a quick look. "Hold him steady."

And with that, the real work began.

I focused on keeping Arthur calm as Charles plunged the forceps deep into the wound, his movements precise yet cautious. The slick muscle twitches under the intrusion, his body instinctively trying to recoil, but he held still, his trust in us outweighing his pain. I watched as Charles maneuvered carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration, the metal tool vanishing into the torn tissue in search of the embedded fragment. Arthur's fingers curled against the wet platform, his claws scraping against the slick surface, but he never lashed out, never tried to stop us. His breathing grew more labored, his gills flaring and closing in uneven bursts, as if his body couldn't quite decide whether to fight or surrender. His tail tensed, the powerful muscle twitching involuntarily, and a faint, guttural sound escaped his throat—a noise that sent a pang of guilt straight through me. He was trying to be strong. Trying to endure.

I moved my palm gently down his chest in a soothing gesture, feeling the rapid, unsteady rhythm of his twin heartbeats beneath my fingers. "Almost there honey," I murmured, unsure if I was reassuring him or myself.

Charles exhaled sharply as he dropped the last fragment into a metal dish. "That's the worst of it, but..." His voice trailed off as he turned his attention to the wound itself, examining the torn flesh with something close to fascination.

I watched as his fingers pressed lightly around the top and the edges, his expression shifting from concern to something more analytical.

"What?" I asked, my nerves on edge.

Charles hesitated for a moment, then sighed, his gaze fixed on the wound as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "I've been trying to make sense of his anatomy all night, but I think I understand it better now." He met my eyes with a seriousness that sent a shiver down my spine. "Arthur has both male and female reproductive anatomy."

I blinked, not fully grasping what he meant. "What?"

Charles gestured to the gaping tear in Arthur's abdomen, where the harpoon had torn through flesh that, by human standards, shouldn't have been there. The area was swollen and raw, but the shape of it was undeniable. "When we first examined him, I suspected something was different. Now I'm sure—Arthur is intersex. Specifically, his anatomy mirrors some species of deep-sea creatures, like certain fish, that possess both male and female reproductive organs." He motioned to the area near Arthur's pelvis, where I could now see the distinctive characteristics more clearly. "The slit opening here," he said, "is where you'd expect female reproductive organs to be. But as you move further down, past the injury, there's a separate opening—closer to what we'd see in a male of most marine species."

I stared down at Arthur, my mind racing to keep up with the new reality unfolding before me. "What does that mean, exactly?"

Charles leaned in, his voice low but matter-of-fact. "It means he's capable of both carrying and producing offspring. In the wild, this adaptation allows some species to reproduce even when mates are scarce—survival in extreme environments." He looked at me, gauging my reaction before continuing, "Arthur could potentially mate on his own or with another of his kind—if there are others. But until we study him more, it's hard to know for sure."

I glanced at Arthur's face, searching for any sign that he understood what we were saying, but his eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion. He was barely holding on, too drained to react.

Charles exhaled slowly, looking down at Arthur with a mixture of awe and respect, "But this is the first time I've seen anything like it in a creature so... human in form."

My heart thundered in my chest, beating against my ribs like a caged bird. There was so much more to him than I realized. Oh how I was hurting for him. Was this why he had been mutilated? Did someone try to strip him of his autonomy, of his natural instinct to reproduce and start a family? Someone hadn't just simply wanted to hunt him. They had wanted to take something away from him. Erase something vital. Something sacred.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for Arthur's hand again, gripping it gently.

"You're safe now," I whispered, more to myself than him.

Charles sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Lenny should be back any minute. He and I will finish suturing the wound tonight if you want to go home and get some rest. It's gonna be some time before he's gained his strength back."

I shook my head before Charles even finished speaking.

"I'm not leaving him."

Charles gave me a knowing look, but he didn't argue. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and rubbed his temple as he spoke with a light chuckle. "Didn't think you would. Looks to me like he's bonded with you." He glanced down to where I held Arthur's hand in my own, and I felt my cheeks grow warm. Then he gestured toward the door with a tilt of his head. "I've got some spare clothes in my office. They'll be a little big on you, but they're dry."

It wasn't much of an offer, but it was better than sitting here in wet, bloodstained clothes. My body ached from the strain of the night, and my wrist still throbbed in dull protest beneath the gauze.

"Thank you Charles," I murmured, glancing back at Arthur one last time. He hadn't moved, his body limp in the water, his breathing shallow but steady. He was still with us. That was enough—for now.

⋅─⊱༺ 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ༻⊰─⋅

I made my way down the dim hallway, my soaked shoes squelching against the tile as exhaustion began to weigh down on me. Charles' office was small but cluttered with medical textbooks, old research notes, and a whiteboard full of scrawled reminders and sketches. A pile of folded clothes sat on a chair, and I grabbed the first set that looked comfortable—a soft, oversized sweatshirt and a pair of worn sweatpants.

I peeled off my damp clothes, wincing at the way they clung to my skin, and slipped into the dry fabric. It smelled like antiseptic and faint traces of cologne.

For the first time since the night began, I let myself breathe.

I sank onto the worn leather couch in the corner of the office, curling my knees to my chest. The room was silent, save for the distant hum of the filtration system and the occasional muffled voices from the lab where Lenny and Charles worked.

The weight of everything pressed down on me at once.

Arthur.

His pain. The way his deep blue eyes had locked onto mine, pleading and vulnerable. His gaze had pulled at something deep within me, a tether that I couldn't quite name but couldn't ignore either. The faint shimmer of light dancing across his wet skin, the soft, rhythmic purring that had vibrated through me, a soothing but bittersweet sound. His presence had settled in me like a force I hadn't anticipated, an undercurrent that kept drawing me closer, leaving me more entangled with each passing moment. I could feel something—something—between us, growing, almost tangible in its intensity, and it both terrified and fascinated me.

The harpoon.

The thought of it sent a tremor through my chest. The sickening knowledge that someone had driven that metal into his body on purpose. They had wanted to hurt him. And the more I thought about it, the more I felt the jagged edges of that cruelty cut into my own soul.

I shuddered, hugging my arms around myself as if that could hold together the pieces of me that were beginning to fracture. No matter how hard I tried to shake it, the image of his torn flesh wouldn't leave me. The helpless sound of his groan, raw with agony, echoed in my mind. His fingers had clung to me, not with force, but with a desperate, trembling need I couldn't ignore. It wasn't just fear I had sensed in him—it was trust. He had turned to me in his darkest moment, and somehow, somehow, I had become the one thing that could make him feel safe.

It was all burned into my memory. A delicate, painful imprint. One I couldn't erase, no matter how hard I tried.

I didn't remember closing my eyes. Didn't remember the moment exhaustion finally won. But at some point, sleep pulled me under.

A hand on my shoulder jolted me awake.

"Hey," Charles' voice was softer than usual. "It's done."

I blinked against the dim light, disoriented. My body felt heavy, my mind sluggish, like I had been underwater myself.

"What time is it?" My voice was thick with sleep.

"Almost dawn," Charles said. "Lenny and I finished the sutures. He's stable, but it's gonna take time."

I pushed myself upright, my heart already pulling me toward the lab. "Is he—?"

"He's still asleep," Charles assured me. "But he's breathing easier now. The pain is more manageable."

That was all I needed to hear.

I stood, giving Charles a nod of thanks before heading back down the hall. The scent of salt and antiseptic filled my nose as I stepped back into the lab.

Arthur lay at the bottom of the pool, his massive tail curled slightly, his body finally still in the way a resting creature should be. The water was dark and calm, gently cradling him in its weightless embrace. I exhaled softly, relief washing over me.

Moving without thought, I stepped onto the platform beside the pool and lowered myself down. The cold tile pressed against my back as I curled up close to the edge, my fingers just inches from the water's surface.

I should have gone home. Should have left him in Charles' capable hands. But I couldn't.

Not yet. Not when he had spent who-knows-how-long suffering alone.

"I won't let them hurt you," I whispered again, more for myself than for him.

And with the gentle sound of the water lapping against the pool's edge, I let sleep take me once more—this time, beside him.

AN: I know we're all wondering what happened with the harpoon, our beloved reader will be getting some answers in the next chapter. As well as some sweet/hot moments that will send her spiraling as she begins to have deeper feelings for our seaboy :)

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Siren Songs: Arthur Morgan x Siren!Reader

You sneered at the outlines of the men before you, your nails scratching faint lines into the thick glass. Your tail thrashed in the water, kicking up the dirt that sat thick at the bottom. The water tasted odd, like metal had been rusting in it for years, it didn’t taste clean. It made your skin start to ache.

You missed the taste of the sea.

Even in your deepest of dreams, you could still taste the salt on your skin and smell the brine that pooled beneath your body. How long had it been since you and your friends were snatched up from the sea? Years?

You glared at the men who had their backs to you, making sure to avoid eye contact as they laughed and regaled at how much money they had made off of you all. You could still feel the eyes of what looked to be thousands of people staring at you from beyond the thick glass and murky water you were all kept in.

They always made sure to keep the lid on tight, lest another “accident” happens and you all drown and maim another one of their men.

They had made a stop for the night, settling in some little town riddled with filth if the water they had rehomed you in was any clue. They had stashed your tanks in a stable amongst the four-legged beasts they call horses. Your heart tugged; Some of them were in the same shit show you were in: Forced to perform for the masses because of how different you were from humans. At least they could taste fresh air and even fresher waters.

Your eyes remained pinned on the men before you, narrowing your eyes and wrinkling your nose when one would turn to look at you before laughing with his “pals” only for them all to erupt in laughter.

“Come away from there,” one of your friends called. “It’ll do you no good just staring at them like that.”

A bitter taste settled at the back of your throat as you finally let go of the glass.

Just as you turned to swim towards your friends, the stable doors suddenly were yanked open.

“Dutch, are ya sure ye know what yer doin’?” Arthur didn’t even look over to the other men to his side.

He drew his bandana over his nose and unholstered his revolver as the older man just chuckled.

“Arthur, my boy, think of how much money we’d be gettin’ from this! In no time, we’ll be off in T-”

“Arthur’s right,” Hosea piped up. Dutch shot him a look. “They are dangerous creatures. They’ll think we’re just like their captors. One wrong move and we’re all goners.”

“It’s too late to back out now.”

Dutch unholstered his own revolver and started towards the stable that shockingly wasn’t very guarded.

Arthur followed close behind, eyeing the carts holding dangerous wild animals who eyed them all like they were walking hunks of meat ripe for eating. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory of that damned lion for Margaret that nearly took him down for good. Arthur snuck around the carts with Lenny and John while Dutch, Hosea and Micah took to the front.

A few shots rang out before Arthur and the others raced towards the front doors, already seeing a few bodies on the floor while Dutch had the rest getting on their knees.

“What is it? Money? We can give ya money!” one of the men pleaded.

They were all dressed nicely, better than anyone he’s ever seen in Saint Denis. They had to be from somewhere like New York City with clothes like that; Rich silks that were getting dirty from kneeling on the grimy floorboards covered in horse dung and God knows what else.

“Although ‘m honored for the offer, you fellows have somethin’ else I’ve had my eye on for awhile now,” Dutch smirked.

“Take it! It’s yours! Just let us go!” another of the men pleaded.

“Where are you fellows keepin’ the sirens?”

All of their eyes widened at the question.

“Wh- You can’t! They’re our star attraction!”

Dutch cocked the revolver and pressed it against the man’s forehead, the poor bastard was sweating through his expensive linens to the point where he could smell that pompous aftershave and cologne from where he stood.

“I ain’t askin’ again, gentlemen. The sirens?”

“There’s a wagon there,” Micah sneered, motioning towards the back of the stable with his gun. “What’s in it?”

Just the look on Micah’s face made Arthur want to silence him. Hell, everything Micah did made him want to shoot him dead where he stood.

“Arthur, go check it out,” Dutch motioned to the wagon.

Arthur swallowed thickly but slowly peeled away from the rest of the group. He was careful to step towards the wagon, noticing right away on how huge it was and especially how odd-looking it was. It was the same maroon wood with gold accents and wheels locked into place, but instead of large iron bars to keep whatever is in, it was thick glass.

With a lot of scratches on the inside.

Arthur stepped closer, noticing how murky the water was and how it was pushed back into the darkest corner of the stable away from the horses. The water must have felt so cold and disgusting.

At first, he didn’t see anything in the large tank.

And then he saw multiple pairs of eyes cutting through the darkness. Various shades of colors, but the pair of yellow eyes in the front stuck out to him the most. They were judging him, eyeing him up on whether he was prey to them or a predator. He couldn’t blame them, especially after how long those poor things have been in captivity. It made his heart twist in his ribs.

Dutch had been following this entire thing since Blackwater. It was his next big thing besides all of the other “plans” he had in that odd head of his. He was going to steal the sirens from this traveling circus and pawn them off to the highest bidder.

Dutch came up behind Arthur with a lantern in hand and gun ready in the other. His eyes widened at the sight of multiple eyes glowing the in the murky water and raised the lantern to the glass.

The entire pack of them flinched away from the light, but he really only got a good look at the one in front with the yellow eyes. Their scales had started to lose their color so long ago, there was just a faint trace of blue in the dull scales. Overgrown claws that had been neglected, a long tail curled and twisting the water, a wide fin that had little tears at the ends. He could only imagine how the others looked.

It was cruel to keep them in such disgusting conditions.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Dutch gawked. “Let’s get ‘em outta here and back to camp.”

It was late at night when Arthur left the confines of his tent, staring at the tank wagon at the edge of camp and started towards it with a lit lantern in hand. He saw the bodies in the water all huddled together, clinging to the edges on the tank fast asleep. Except for you.

Upon feeling eyes on the tank, your own parted and stared Arthur down as he walked up, a fire lit under his ass and burned him with determination. He saw you tail thrash a bit in the water, your claws sank a bit into the lip of the tank, the gills on your throat flared. You were trying to intimidate him, to drive him away; Yet you didn’t use your voice to do so.

“Why are you here?” your eyes narrowed.

He mulled over his words, his eyes pinned to yours in a hypnotic trance.

“‘M sorry.” Your eyes widened just a bit, your grip on the edge of the tank lessened. “I know you all’ve been through a lot. Made out to be some monsters, gettin’ looked like yer freaks. It ain’t fair to you all.”

He doesn’t know how long the silence enveloped you both. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours; But you softened up and finally let go of your death grip on the tank and freely floated on the water’s surface.

“You’re not… afraid of me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

Arthur’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. The way your inhuman eyes searched his, the way the sun shimmered off of your dull scales. It made his stomach flutter in an odd way.

“‘M gonna get ya out of this mess.”

[elizmanderson]

ten songs, ten* people

*no people bc you know how I am

tagged by @mslanna!

Without You (Extended), Ursine Vulpine ft. Annaca

Become the Beast, Karliene

Start a Riot, BANNERS

Towards the Sun (Home OST), Rihanna

You Are the New Day (arr. Peter Knight), The King's Singers

When You're with Me, The Afters

Chantaje (Salsa Version), Shakira ft. Maluma

Now and For Always, LotR: The Musical OBST

Song of the Sea Lullay (Song of the Sea OST), Nolwenn Leroy

On the Minnehaha, Lennie Gallant

...this is actually very difficult for me bc I have so very many favorite songs

anyway you're tagged if you wanna share ten songs!

[thatcartoonnetworkblog]

Cartoon Network Friday Spotlight: Scooby-Doo and Scrappy-Doo- “Twenty Thousand Screams Under the Sea”

Scrappy-Doo remains among the most controversial additions to the Scooby-Doo franchise... Mindy Kaling’s take on Velma notwithstanding. 

If you ask the crew who worked on the franchise or Hanna-Barbera at the time, they’ll either call Scrappy the savior of the franchise or a necessary evil to keep it afloat. The fact is that ABC, who had given Scooby’s previous shows a home, were looking to not bring back the studio’s biggest cash cow of the 70′s unless some changes were made, and adding in a tough-minded nephew seemed to have done the trick, keeping Scooby around well into the 80′s. From what I can gather, kids at the time liked Scrappy, but when older fans who returned to the franchise during Cartoon Network’s heyday in the 90′s and early 2000′s got a hold of his material, he wasn’t very well received, and thus became the butt of many a joke since.

Scrappy... kind of deserves it, although not every project he was in stunk. I think that his first series was a tolerable continuation of the monster of the week format, even though he was one monster hunter too many, and he does get annoying. I have less defense for the run where it’s just him, Scooby, and Shaggy, though.

Here’s a decent episode from that first series, where the gang is resting in the beaches of Acapulco as they intend to watch a cliff diving competiton. The star diver, Tiger Morris is late, and from there the beach city is haunted by a sea beast. Who has to solve it? Three guesses, and the first two don’t count.

I generally prefer this when Scrappy isn’t a big part of it, as Lennie Weinrib’s strong New York voice grows old fast. I actually prefer Don Messick’s later take on the character, but it has its moments, and cool atmosphere with the dark sea before a reveal that makes sense.

[restorationofthetentofdavid]

SUNDAY BLESSING SERVICE. YOU SHALL BE INHABITED AGAIN BY THE GRACE OF GOD. 19TH JANUARY 2025. PART 2.

Job 12:7-10 (ESV)“But ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you; or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind. By Pastor Lenny Were. ✓ Subscribed

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Reader finally breaks down and says this out loud, “ It’s lonely here without you. ” Arthur has finally return from being stranded in Garuma and surprises her.

This one ended up being so fluffy! Enjoy, Anon! 

Read all my requests on AO3! 

You stand on the edge of the swamp in this miserable place named Lakay. You hate it here, even more than Shady Belle. Sure, that place had been in the swamp surrounded by gators and infested with mosquitos. The walls always emitted a moldy stink, but at least there’d been room for everyone. 

Lakay is even worse. It’s tiny, the few structures sit right on top of the swamp itself. Not only that, but there’s heavy evidence that this place had been recently occupied by the Night Folk. The skulls of their victims sit on spikes on the single path leading into Lakay. 

Beyond the physical ugliness of it is the general mood of the camp. Everyone is anxious, scared and distraught. When Charles had returned to Shady Belle the evening of the highly anticipated bank heist, he hadn’t hesitated to tell everyone what had happened. Hosea and Lenny were dead, John was in prison and all the others were on a boat headed to God knows where. 

When you and Sadie heard the news, you both jumped into action to get everyone to safety. Grimshaw and Pearson, who would have normally been the ones to get things moving, were in too much shock to do so. There were high fears that the Pinkertons, who had cornered Dutch and the others in Saint Denis, would be able to find the hideout, so it was clear that the gang had to be moved. You and Sadie barked out orders, urging everyone to get packing and to leave. 

While everyone got packing, you and Sadie discussed where to go. You couldn’t go back west and there was nowhere in the east or south. That was when Strauss told you about Lakay and how he’d heard rumor that the locals were terrified of it. Sadie told you to manage things and she took Charles up to it to clear it of the Night Folk. 

While they were gone, you and Grimshaw got things packed up. Abigail was a problem as she was worried about John. She wanted to bust him out of prison, but right now the gang couldn’t sacrifice the people to go rescue him and things were far too hot to risk it. Besides, there was no word on if he was going to be executed or not. Most likely, the prison would hold onto him until a trial could be held. 

Finally, in the morning after the bank heist, you, Grimshaw and Pearson got the gang moved. It had been Pearson’s idea to leave a coded message in the manor in case Dutch, Arthur or the others came back looking. Hopes were not high that any of them would return however. It didn’t improve your mood. 

You’re worried about all of those that disappeared on the boat, but the one you’re most worried about is Arthur. You’ve been in a relationship with him for the past nine months and things were starting to get serious when he’d gone with the others to rob the bank. Your relationship had been to the point where you’d started thinking you might spend the rest of your life with him. Now he’s gone, lost at sea or stuck on an island or perhaps even another continent entirely. No one knows where he and the others are. 

As the gang tried to settle around Lakay, unpacking and arranging as much as they could in the tiny town, you tried keeping morale up. Working on unpacking and arranging made it easy for you to bury your fears, worries and pain, but when it was done, they were the only things you had left to occupy yourself. 

That first night in Lakay was extremely difficult. You set up yours and Arthur’s spot at the back of the largest building, though it still felt like you were on top of the other girls and Jack. You weren’t used to having a sleeping spot alone, having shared one with Arthur for months. It was an alien feeling and you spent several hours lying awake, listening to the groans of alligators and the singing of frogs. 

It’s been nearly a month since the bank heist and there’s still no word of Dutch, Arthur or the others. Sadie and Mary-Beth did some investigating in the area and found out the boat they’d snuck on had been headed south to the Caribbean, but there’d been no word on if the boat ever arrived at its destination. Of course, communication with ships was spotty at best, so if there’d been any problems with it during its voyage, there wouldn’t be word for another few weeks. 

You’ve spent nearly every day the same way. In the morning, you help Pearson set out coffee and a simple breakfast, usually consisting of bird or alligator eggs, then you spend the remainder of the morning doing chores and trying to keep spirits up, but it’s hard when yours are so low. By early afternoon, you’re able to slip away from camp in order to go hunting. You often bring back eggs and sometimes even crawfish. 

You hate hunting in the swamps. It’s not only because you know you’re not the top of the foodchain out here. The swamps hold a certain ugliness you can’t get past. Everything seems to hold a layer of slime on it, and the smell of stagnant water permeates into the air. You miss the rich green forests in the west, the blue mountains, the yellow plains and orange deserts. Sure, out there you’re just as likely to be hunted by bears, wolves or mountain lions, but they’re the devils you know. Alligators are a whole new beast. 

When you’re in camp, you try to appear busy and determined, but inside all you want to do is crawl into your bedroll and sink into the floor. You were devastated by the news of Hosea and Lenny, both shot down by Pinkertons. Charles told you how Arthur stayed with Lenny until he was dead, but how Hosea had been shot in the street in front of everyone. He was like a father to you. He was the one who saw your potential first all those years ago and convinced Dutch to keep you, teach you how to be an outlaw. 

The deaths aren’t the only things making you miserable. You’re scared for Arthur, terrified that he might very well be dead. You hate not knowing what’s happened to him. You’d rather know he was dead than to be left guessing because then you’d at least know what to do. 

You miss the way he held you at night, his voice, his body. The way you two synchronize during a hunt, bringing down the best and largest prey. Camp never wanted for meat when you two worked together. You miss the nights under the stars, swimming with him in the lake. The things you’d talk about. Arthur was the only one you could tell anything to without fear of judgement, knowing he’d want to hear whatever you had to say. It was the same for him. You loved the days he’d come, shaken up by a shootout or when Sean died and he’d laid his head on your shoulder and cried. You’ve never trusted or loved anyone as much as you do with Arthur. 

You sit now at the edge of the swamp. It’s morning, and you wish you could see the sky. Even though it’s a clear day, you can never seem to see the blue of it in the swamp. It’s always so muggy. Normally you’d be in camp, helping get the chores started and talking to the other girls, but you just can’t do it this morning. There have been days since the bank heist that you just miss Arthur more than the others and today seems to be one of them. You also just can no longer bear hiding the fact that you’re heartbroken. It seems that the only thing you see in camp is everyone’s worried eyes and they all beg for answers which you can’t provide. You just can’t do it anymore. 

The rock which you’re sitting on at the base of a slimy tree is starting to hurt beneath you, but you ignore it. You stare off into the shallow, mucky lake, aware that a gator could be inches from the shore, perfectly hidden by the murky water. You don’t really care though. Right now, it seems like nothing will ever get better. 

Things wouldn’t be so hard for you, you feel, if someone, anyone, would ask how you’re coping with all this. It wasn’t like your relationship with Arthur was a secret. Hell, he danced with you in the open when Jack was brought back, pulled you into his lap multiple nights when he played poker. Even kissed you in sight of the others. They all know you two were involved. You just feel like it would be a relief if someone asked you how you’re doing instead of you always making sure they were doing fine. You feel like because everyone’s depending on you and Sadie to keep things together, you can’t show even a moment of weakness. 

As you sit near the lake, you feel a sudden surge of anger. You’re angry at the Pinkertons, who destroyed everything and chased your family into the sea. You’re angry at the gang, they seem to need to be told what to do by you and Sadie. It puts a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You’re angry with the Night Folk, for leaving such an ugly place for you to live in, angry with the gators, the mosquitos. Everything. 

You pick up a rock and throw it as hard as you can, watching as it splashes into the lake several yards away. Nothing comes of the movement, not even a gator to inspect the splash. You feel like it’s a perfect example of your life. Even if you went into camp and screamed yourself hoarse about how mad you are, nothing would change. They’d all still expect you to bring back meat, to keep them functioning. No one would offer or even care to help you out. 

You know you should go back soon. You’ve got a basket full of crawfish that Pearson would absolutely love and a sack of berries. You just can’t do it though. Not today. You’re so tired. Besides, you wouldn’t have any improvements on company there. There’s just as many gators there as there are here. At least you can’t hear any arguing out here. 

A tear slips down your cheek. Things have never seemed so low before. You clasp your hands together and put them to your lips, staring off across the water. A ball forms in your throat and your chest tightens. All you can think about is Arthur and how he’d have ideas, how he’d be able to help lift this weight from your shoulders. You wouldn’t want him to take all of it, of course. He does that enough already. But he would help. Not only that, he’s been your center for so long, and now he’s gone. 

“It’s lonely here without you,” you say aloud, wishing that somehow, someway, he could hear you. If he’s alive, you’ve no doubt he misses you too. 

Something rustles in a bush behind your tree, but you ignore it. It’s probably just a bird or a wild pig. Then you hear footsteps. Your stomach drops further, knowing it’s someone coming to try and convince you to come back to camp and pretend to be fine. You drop your head to your knees, you just can’t take it today. Then you hear a voice you’ve been desperate to hear again. 

“I’ve been lonely too, darlin’.” 

You look up, your cheeks wet, and your eyes land on Arthur. Your breath leaves your body in a harsh burst. It feels like you’ve been holding your breath ever since you found out he was missing. 

“Arthur!” you say in a rough whisper. He smiles at you behind his thick beard, his face is heavily sunburnt and his shirt is semi-transparent from the sweat, rubbed with dirt and torn in a few places. He looks like he’s been through hell. 

You stand up and run the few feet over to him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. He grips you tight and buries his face into your hair as you sob into his chest. All the emotions you’ve been bottling up over the past weeks come rushing out, ripping through your chest and throat. You look up and gently cup his cheek, trying not to irritate his burnt skin. He smiles and leans down to kiss you. 

“God, darlin’, I can’t tell ya how much I’ve missed you.” 

You press your forehead to his. “Me too. But thank God you’re alive! I thought you might be…” 

He slides a hand gently around your neck, his thumb tracing your jawline. “I’m okay, sweetheart. A little rougher for wear, but I’m a’right.” 

He tells you that he’s just returned and how he looked for you in camp. When he couldn’t find you, he was worried that perhaps you’d done something drastic in the light of the failed bank robbery and gotten yourself killed or arrested. He was relieved when Grimshaw said you were out hunting in the swamps and he’d come to find you. 

You don’t know how long you both stand there, just holding each other. You’re reluctant to leave his grasp. He’s your pillar to lean on once more. You nuzzle into his chest, his heart pumping in your ears and his lungs sounding strong. You place a soft kiss over his heart and he tightens his arms. 

In Arthur’s mind, there isn’t a better way you could have welcomed him home. When the boat sank, he’d been terrified and the last thing he saw was your eyes. Then he woke up on Guarma and suffered through the horrors on the island, and he missed you more than he thought possible. Several nights, he felt like you were there, holding him tight. It had been a wonderful comfort to him. On the way back home, he knew he never wanted to lose you again, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. Even now as he holds you, he thinks of how to ask you to be with him forever. He’d ask right now, but it isn’t the time. He can tell you’ve had difficulties too. Grimshaw even admitted to him that she’s let you take on far too much, even though Sadie’s been doing just as much. 

He slides a finger under your chin and lifts your face to look up at him. He smiles and kisses you again, feeling your watery eyelashes brush his cheeks. Even in this smelly swamp, you still smell like you, like home. You feel familiar and steady in his arms, he never wants to let you go. But let you go he must. He unwraps his arms from around you, but takes your hand in his. 

“Come on, darlin’. We gotta go back. I imagine the others will be back any moment.” 

As you walk back to Lakay with him, you think that at least things are unlikely to get worse from here. You just hope that you’ve hit the bottom and that the only way to go is up from here.

[mileycyprus-hill]

What the Water Gave Me

Arthur Morgan x Mermaid Reader/OC

Chapter 4– Exploration 

Thought I wasn’t gonna return, huh? Fooled you—and myself. I wanna thank everyone who’s been so patient with me updating new chapters for all my series since I know it’s been weeks since I posted a new chapter. 

You can find previous chapters on my masterlist which is available in my bio. 

Also found on AO3. 

Summary: Arthur returns to the beach after a hunt and is re-introduced to our lovely mermaid. I hope y’all don’t mind, I’ve switched my reader-insert into an OC, because writing in 3rd person with (y/n) kind of threw off my flow and felt clunky. So I created a name but kept most physical attributes vague to sort of keep it a reader-insert. 

Arthur's eyes twitch beneath his closed lids, his breathing shallow and quick. He lays upon a worn cot within the ruins of the old stone fort. The tall trees above him provide relieving shade over the small camp. The events of the past couple weeks seamlessly transition in his memory: Hosea's splattered blood upon the cobblestone street, Lenny's lifeless body on the rooftop, the rolling storm clouds beyond the sea's horizon. Arthur remembers the orange glow of the flames on the ship. The intense heat, followed by the chilling dark waters below. His heart beats hard and fast, thumping loudly in his ears like heavy drums of a battalion. Suddenly, his anxiety ceases and his breathing slows at the sight of a rising sun. Its yellow light shines with warmth as it breaks above a grassy hillside. The green prairie grass grows high as a tall animal crosses the dense field. It gently pushes through the grass, bowing its head to graze on the lush greens. Arthur begins to recognize the animal: a stag. Its rounded rack of antlers sit high upon its head, like a jagged crown of ivory. With a twitch of its ears the stag raises his head and turns to him, acknowledging his presence. But it doesn't startle. The stag gazes with its glassy eyes. They hold a beautiful amber glow that matches the sunlight. Arthur had never seen such beauty in the eyes of a beast, for he had only seen the pupils of their eyes stretch to black after their life had been taken. The sun flashes brightly and Arthur wakes with a deep, ragged breath through his nose. For a moment, he forgets his surroundings until his vision clears. He remembers the gun fight, the man named Hercule, Javier falling on the beach, and the strange woman. Arthur's worry returns at the thought of Javier and the woman surrounded by the soldiers in blue while he and the gang escape into the dense jungle. He hopes Dutch will come up with a plan to get Javier back.

He hopes to see the woman again, alive.

Arthur stands with stiff joints, the skin of his cheeks and forehead feel uncomfortably tight from the sunburn. He recognizes a dark figure crouched over the small fire in front of him. The flames and smoke are kept low to avoid alerting the local patrols.

“Mornin’ Hercule,” Arthur greets with a gravelly voice, “Or should I say, ‘afternoon’?”

He looks up towards the sky to gauge the location of the sun, bringing his hand to his brow to shield his eyes. The dense jungle trees make it difficult to determine the time, and the humidity this far inland makes it feel awfully hot. It feels much like Lemoyne, where the temperature doesn’t break until long after the sun drops and stays humid well through the early morning.

Hercule chuckles lightly and responds, “I’d say it’s nearly twelve o’clock.” He too, looks to the sky with squinted eyes.

His thick accent surprisingly gives Arthur some comfort. The man speaks confidently and coolly, as if he can foretell what’s to happen. He doesn’t waste words either—unlike Dutch who can cause the most eloquent man’s head to spin with such an exuberant vocabulary and lengthy sentences that seem to reach no point.

The man could be a politician if he chose such a life.

”You’re all low on food, my friend.” Hercule says, standing up and sheathing the machete he was wiping. “Might I suggest we go hunt?”

“Now?” Arthur asks, hinting at more important tasks at hand.

Hercule shrugs to him, “Unless you’d rather starve, then yes. I doubt you had eaten anything since you arrived.”

As if on command, Arthur’s stomach growls so loudly that he smacks a hand to his gut in an attempt to stifle its grumbles. He recalls his last meal was the bits of charred rat he shared with the men at the beach.

“Alright but...shouldn’t we focus on gettin’ out of here? Gettin’ our friend back?” Arthur asks hurriedly, attempting to mask his concern. He desperately wants to get off this island and back home—back to his homeland that he knows and understands. He feels helpless being here, like a lost child in an unfamiliar place. It’s an anxious feeling he hasn’t felt in years.

“Your friend Dutch is working on that at the moment with my comrades,” Hercule responds neutrally. “Come, there is plenty of boar on this island, and it’ll be much better with two.”

Hercule picks up the bolt action rifle next to Arthur’s cot and hands it to him after checking the bullets within the barrel chamber.

“You can keep watch for anything suspicious while I hunt,” Hercule says, grabbing a handmade bow and a leather quiver of arrows.

Arthur quirks an eyebrow at the simple bow.

“Think that’d be enough?“ he asks.

“Better to hunt quietly, unless you want that bastard Fussar to find us.” Hercule replies.

Arthur hums, “Good point.”

....

If it weren’t for the fact they’re wanted men on this island, Arthur could find this place rather peaceful. He can hear the shores in the distance as he and Hercule walk closer to the coast, tracking the boar. Arthur scans the area while Hercule walks in front, following the tracks in the sand and dirt. The vibrant colors of the tropical birds catch Arthur’s eyes and he watches them fly up into the trees. Their feathers stand out against the foliage: the bright blues and yellows and striking reds. They’re as large as eagles and far more beautiful than any bird he’s seen back home. Arthur hopes his journal is still safe at home. He wishes he could sketch them right now, while he can still see them. They reach the top of a small hill when Hercule raises his hand.

“There!” Hercule exclaims softly. He notches his arrow and draws the bowstring, aiming at the massive boar below the hill, straight ahead of them.

He looses his arrow and watches it strike the side of the animal with a swift thud. The carved stone arrowhead narrowly misses its heart. It squeals in painful terror and runs in the opposite direction, towards the coast.

“Damn,” Hercule curses under his breath. Arthur shakes his head behind him, watching the broad palm leaves rustle and shake as the boar runs off.

The two of them continue tracking the animal, following the crimson drops of blood on the ivory sand. The air starts to feel cool from the ocean breeze as they walk closer to the edge of the island. The jungle brush grows thinner and the tracks turn from subtle drops to a bloody trail and become easier to follow.

Hercule speaks, “Finally. There it is.” He points to the animal lying dead on the beach. Its dark hide stands out against the white sand.

They approach the dead pig and start to field dress it: removing its hide and cutting the meat into various cuts and wrapping them in cloth. Hercule grabs his large bag and divides the cuts of meat, one half for him, the other for Arthur and the men. The process takes them close to an hour, it’s such a large beast for two men.

“These are for you,” he says, handing Arthur his half of the boar meat. It’s enough to feed the men for several days, and Arthur manages to stuff them into his temporary satchel. Arthur’s makeshift bag is stretched to its limits, holding the large cuts of meat inside its leather boundaries held together with crude stitches.

“The rest I will give to my people and sell to the villagers,” Hercule continues. “Many people are without food on this island.”

“Thank you, Hercule,” Arthur says, following him to the shore.

They walk to the water and wash the blood off their hands. It’s clotted thick on their skin like paint, but easily dissolves away once it touches the salt water. The crimson color fades away with the gentle tide and is erased from their skin.

“You are welcome, Mister Morgan. Soon we will find your friend and get you off this island.” Hercule responds, shaking his hands dry. He starts to head back towards the jungle before he stops.

“I’ll head into the village to sell this and see if I can find a captain who will take you home. I suggest you head back to your camp.” Hercule says. “Do you know your way back?” He asks Arthur, stopping to turn back to him.

Arthur looks to him and nods, “Sure. I remember the way.”

“Always be on alert, Mister Morgan. You can find me at the old fort, Cinco Torres. Not far from here.” Hercule waves a quick goodbye to which Arthur returns as Hercule quickly steps into the jungle.

Arthur now stands alone on the beach, rubbing his fingers along his cotton suspenders and feeling the loose waistband of his pants. He breathes a rough sigh before a harsh cough rumbles from his chest and scratches his throat. He struggles to catch his breath and bends over to rest a hand on his knee. It feels as if he’s still got sea water in his lungs until he finally hacks his throat clear. A thick, wet lump of mucus is coughed up into his mouth. In disgust, he spits out the bloody wad onto the white sand and wipes a trail of blood from his lips. Straightening himself up, he finds that he isn’t alone.

He sees her, peering from behind a rock in the water just several yards away. Arthur freezes in place, watching the strange woman and trying not to spook her. Like predators crossing paths in the wild, they remain motionless and wary, waiting for the slightest twitch that could send either one fleeing or pursuing. The woman remains at her spot, watching and waiting for Arthur’s next move. Her eyes are wide and glassy. Thin white membranes blink slowly over her eyes like cloudy veils and disappear behind her eyelids. Arthur tries to see the rest of her body that’s submerged in the water, but he cannot see from where he stands. He suddenly notices she’s still nude from the waist up, with her long hair covering her chest. The long, wet strands of hair lay plastered on her chest, conforming to her shapely breasts and structured shoulders. They both stay frozen in place, unsure of what to do next.

Her feminine voice softly croaks from behind the rock, sending a chill to Arthur’s flushed skin. “Your friend. The one called Javier?” She says, her voice calm. Her voice has a slight melody to it but, with a wet gargle. Arthur can only describe it as like the trill of a tree frog combined with the eerie, nocturnal warble of an owl.

”Yes?” Arthur responds hesitantly.

“He’s alive.” The woman tells him.

A quiet sigh of relief escapes Arthur’s lips and his eyes light up in a slight rejoice. The tension in his shoulders release only minutely. The woman in the water notices this and allows herself to relax slightly. The pair of them listen to the gentle waves splash on the shore during this quiet exchange of words.

Arthur asks her, “Where, uh, where is he?”

The woman’s wide eyes look down, away from Arthur as if in remorse.

“Held prisoner,” she answers solemnly. “On the plantation.”

Arthur breathes a disturbed sigh at her notification, rubbing his scraggly beard with a rough palm. Feeling brave, he decides to take a step forward in the wet sand.

The woman notices and tenses behind the small rock. Her webbed hands grip the rock tightly, ready to propel herself away. Halting himself, Arthur raises his hands up in surrender.

“Iss-alright. It’s alright,” he drawls in his accent, “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Watching his every move, she waits behind the rock while he slowly removes his shoes and rolls his pants up to his knees. Like approaching the wild horses of the plains, Arthur steps forward into the foaming water with his hands raised just above his hips in assurance. The dazzling blue water gently splashes against his pale legs.

“What’s yer name?” He asks, stepping further in the water until it nearly reaches the fabric of his pants that reach just below his knees.

“(Y/N),” she answers, still guarded.

“That’s a nice name…(Y/N).”

“It was given to me by my tutor.”

“Your…your tutor?” Arthur queries with a pleasant smile, barely showing his teeth behind his lips. He feels a sudden inquisitive need: a curious desire for knowledge that needs to be satisfied.

“Yes. He gave me it. My real name is…Isopora.” She answers. Rarely has she given her true name to strangers, especially humans. But his presence feels non-threatening and oddly comforting. Though, she doesn’t know why.

“Isopora.” Arthur enunciated slowly.

They both smile at his utterance of her name. It rolls off his tongue and falls from his lips like the soft babbling of a stream. Its crisp, clear waters trickle gently over the rocks as it flows from its diverted source of the deep, dark river.

“My name’s Arthur…Arthur Morgan.” He states. His voice is warm and inviting with a rich, complex timbre that mirrors the guttural vocals of the seals from Isopora’s homeland. And that accent! Isopora can’t recognize it. It sounds funny, with his slight garbles and relaxed slurring of consonants.

Arthur reaches out, extending his sunburned hand to her in good faith. Isopora stares at his thick hand and calloused fingers, confused and unsure. Removing her webbed hand from the rock, she mimics Arthur’s pose to place her hand within his. She’s reluctant at first, twitching her hand away at the slightest touch, like a shy wild thing getting used to human contact. Arthur remains still, his arm still extended, until she finally rests her hand in the welcoming handshake. He wraps his fingers around hers in a gentle grip—firm, yet soft.

She expects him to clench his hand around her wrist in a trick and attempt to pull her ashore, but he simply shakes her hand. Her hand grips Arthur’s tightly in a small show of strength, and he notices. Isopora’s grip is firm and Arthur catches the muscles of her forearm contracting as she squeezes. He follows her toned muscles all the way up her biceps to her brawny shoulders.

She’s a work of art, Arthur thinks to himself, eyeing her well-knit body. Her sculpted arms, rounded shoulders, jutted collarbone, and sturdy midsection glisten in the sunlight. Her skin looks wonderfully smooth and her muscles stand out despite hiding beneath a generous layer of warm, protective fat. His gaze moves further down her curves as he steals a glance at her lengthy tail. It’s nearly camouflaged in the tropical blue water, but Arthur watches a bundle of silvery scales glimmer as they catch the rays of sun. Her feathery tail fin swishes against the waves to keep herself steady.

“So uh,” Arthur clears his throat awkwardly, still shaking her hand, “yer really a mermaid?”

An unexpected laugh erupts from Isopora and she bares her teeth in an amused grin. Her sudden joyful bark of laughter infects Arthur and he chuckles alongside her.

Minutes later, after a continued exchange of greetings, Arthur wades back to shore. Isopora follows close behind, but not too close. With a tired grunt, Arthur sets himself down onto the sand, allowing the tide to barely lap at his bare toes. Isopora remains partly submerged in front of him, resting on her stomach and elbows and softly swishing her flukes in the shallow water. A moment of silence passes for God knows how long. Arthur remains transfixed by her colorful form. His eyes examine the seam of her scales that perfectly mold into her skin just below her navel. Arthur expected all of her scales to be smooth and flat like a trout, but the further his eyes travel down her length, he notices the scales grow thicker and larger. Much like the textured scales of a snake, they cover her lower body in a protective armor. The glistening wet scales catch the rays of the bright afternoon sun and shimmer like tiny mirrors, flashing bright colors off her body like rainbows.

"Do you remember anything from the shipwreck?" Isopora asks him in a soft trill.

Arthur’s eyes snap from her tail up to her dark eyes. He furrows his brows in thought as he replays the memories in his mind.

"Sort of," he shrugs, "I remember Dutch waking me up, and there was a fire. And then..."

While Arthur takes his time remembering the incident, Isopora takes the opportunity to look over his features. She admires his tall frame, his broad shoulders, and barreled chest. He looks to be a man of great strength, conditioned by heavy lifting. Though his waist looks narrowed from starvation.

No doubt he's the workhorse of the family, she wonders, recalling the other men she had seen him chained to. She looks at Arthur's hands while he twitches his fingers and raises his arms to animate his story of jumping off the boat.

"...then there was this real high squealing, like a...hum or somethin’," Arthur continues, trying to articulate his thoughts, "And then nothin'."

Isopora hums in agreement, “I forget when I speak underwater, humans can’t quite understand it.”

Arthur narrows his eyes at her in a mix of shock and confusion, “Wait, that...that was you?” He points to her.

She smiles in embarrassment, cinching her eyes closed as she admits, “Yes. That was me.”

“So, you...you saved me?” Arthur points to her. The gears in his head continue to turn as he recollects his memories.

“That’s why you washed up there with me.” He finishes.

Isopora looks behind her towards the water and turns back to Arthur with a playful look. “Would you like to hear?” She offers.

“Shoar,” Arthur drawls. Like a curious child, Arthur scoots a bit further up on the sand, his arms wrapped around his knees.

Isopora’s smile grows wider and she begins to drag herself further into the water. “Okay,” she says, “Stay right there.”

Arthur watches her enter the water. Her blue-green scales disappear under the ocean as the gentle waves splash upon her. With a soft kick of her fin, she swims backwards until the water rises up to her chest. Her eyes stay fixed upon Arthur, who waits curiously on the sand. Arthur watches her smirk and dip silently below the water’s surface. He watches her disappear into the water and slows his breathing so he could listen for her sounds. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Until, an eerie howl echoes from the water. The hairs on his arm stand on edge, but he doesn’t feel afraid. Her high-pitched moans and howls continue and Arthur listens attentively. It almost sounds like singing, he thinks to himself. It’s both haunting and ethereal, like the echoing wail of a loon. Her various pitches become littered with clicks and pops that are so sharp, Arthur could feel the sounds vibrate in his ears. Arthur breathes a small chuckle of amazement at her beautiful song. It lasts for only a minute and finally ends as he watches her break the water’s surface.

She returns to him on the shore, her thick hair wet against her silky skin and the cloudy membranes on her eyes retreat back under her lids. Her naked breasts remained covered by her long hair. Isopora smiles humbly at Arthur while he softly gives a clap of his hands.

“Beautiful,” he says, “What were you singing—er, saying?”

She answers, “The same thing I was trying to tell you that night.”

Arthur looks at her in confusion.

Biting her lip, she explains, “You were struggling and I swam up to help, but when I went to pull you up for air, you started thrashing.” She hesitates for a moment but continues, “I tried telling you ‘it’ll be alright’, but you were so scared.”

Arthur finishes for her, “And that’s when everything went dark,” he says.

“Yeah,” Isopora cringes, “I’m sorry about that...I had to, uh, ‘knock your lights out’. So to speak.”

“What?” Arthur asks in surprise.

”You were thrashing so badly when I grabbed you!” She defends, “I wasn’t trying to keep you under like you thought I was. I was trying to help. But I should know by now that when trying to save a person from drowning, expect to be dragged down with them,” She chuckles.

“Well, that explains why.” Arthur laughs, “No hard feelings, I guess. Ain’t the first time someone did that.”

The smile wanes from Isopora’s face and she looks at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” She asks, her tone serious.

Arthur shrugs in response, picking the sand beneath his fingernails.

“Well,” he sighs, avoiding her gaze and looking past her shoulder to the sea behind her. It extends far beyond the horizon like a blue void. The ripples of the surface waves look like textured glass with bright yellow colors of the sun merging with the ocean blues.

“I tend to find trouble or trouble finds me. I ain’t a good man…I do bad things and bad things are done to me in return.”

“Like what?” Isopora asks, suddenly fearful for her own safety.

“I’ve robbed…killed people. Run with a gang of people like me,” Arthur answers, unsure as to why he’s suddenly opening himself up to a stranger. A creature that should only belong in fairy tales, no doubt. Why is he so talkative all of a sudden, he wonders?

He continues regardless, “Used to be that we’d only steal from the rich and give what’s left to the poor but…seems so long ago now. Now we’re shootin’ up towns in the name of survival. Tryin’ to find a place in the world.”

He speaks with such uncertainty and dread for the future, that whatever choices he makes are fruitless and inconsequential. All forked roads lead to the same inevitable end. Perhaps this is his time for confession. An opportunity to repent one’s sins, with no risk of judgement. There truly was no one else he could speak to about these things—no human being that is. Why not unveil them to this woman? This creature that, realistically speaking, could just be a figment of Arthur’s imagination?

“What made you change?” Isopora asks.

Arthur looks to her eyes with a cold stare, “Weren’t us who changed,” he states defensively, “The world’s changed. Civilization’s movin’ in. And there ain’t room for people like us no more.”

Isopora hums, as if in agreement. “Those men you were chained with,” Isopora recalls from memory, “they’re your people? Your gang?”

Arthur nods.

“That boat,” Isopora continues to pry, “Where were you going?”

“We were headed to Tahiti, initially.” Arthur answers.

Isopora gives him a confused look.

Tahiti? That’s on the other side of the world.

As if hearing her thoughts, Arthur explains.

“Our boat was supposed to go to Cuba. We were runnin’. Hopped on the boat from America and…ended up here, I guess.”

An American? How exciting, Isopora thinks to herself. She’s met different characters throughout her life, but never an American. She’s only heard about these wild, free-spirited, gun-toting creatures with a thirst for adventure.

Isopora laughs dryly, “You’re a long way from Tahiti, my friend. That’s all the way in the South Pacific…We’re essentially in the Caribbean.”

Arthur looks to her inquisitively. He never gave it much thought as to where Tahiti actually is. At this point, he thought it was a fantasy island made up by Dutch to keep spirits up. Isopora guesses that Arthur isn’t quite familiar with world geography, outside his own familiar territory. After all, she doesn’t even know that he’s only ever stayed on land. Never travelled across the sea.

“Well,” Arthur states. “Accordin’ to Dutch, it’s supposed to be an untouched paradise.”

“Kinda small,” Isopora replies.

Arthur gives her another confused look. “You been there?” He asks, almost excitedly.

She shrugs, “Oui. Une fois, il y a longtemps.”

Another blank and confused stare is painted on Arthur’s face in response to her foreign reply.

Isopora smiles, “It’s a French colony. It’s been…decades since I’ve traveled there, and it was only once. But…how do you know there’d be room for you there?

Arthur bites his inner cheek in thought as he huffs, “Hmm…you got a point there.”

“To be honest, it’s better you’re shipwrecked on the way to Cuba than Tahiti. There’s a lot more open ocean to be stranded in the Pacific.”

“You’re a hell of a world traveler, ain’t’cha?” Arthur smirks.

“One could call me that, yes.” Isopora answers with a similar smile.

“Well, I ain’t much of one so, I’ll take yer word for it.”

Isopora opens her mouth to respond until she catches movement from the corner of her sharp eyes. Narrowing her gaze, she sees two men on patrol, heading their way.

Fussar’s soldiers.

Arthur notices her chest falling and rising rapidly.

Following her line of sight, Arthur asks, “What is it?”

Without hesitation, Isopora grabs his hand and tugs him towards the water.

“We must hide!” She hisses in fear, pulling him in with immense strength. She drags him with her as she swims behind a large bundle of rocks. Three large stones stand tall above the water, with a small gap in the center— enough to hide one of them out of sight. The middle stone stands tallest, with the other two standing parallel to each other.

The gap is tight and the water is high. Arthur holds onto Isopora tightly by her waist as he feels his toes float freely in the water, unable to touch the bottom. He struggles to hold himself against the slick rock with his wet hands slipping at each attempt. Isopora’s naked breasts press against his chest as she helps him stay above the water against the waves. He tries his best to avert his eyes, turning his head awkwardly to peek at the oncoming patrol.

Idle fingers start to involuntarily caress Isopora’s smooth scales. A palm lies pressed against her hips, keeping Arthur safely close to her while the other hand tries to brace himself against the rock. His fingers cannot help but examine on their own. The sensation transitions from slightly coarse to velvety soft with each subtle rub on her scales and up to her skin. A pair of voices grow louder as they near the spot Arthur and Isopora once rested. Their words are unfamiliar to Arthur, but he can detect the casual tone of their chatting.

Until he hears a surprised exclaim from the beach and Arthur suddenly remembers.

He left his shoes behind.

His eyes grow wide and he looks up to Isopora. She mirrors his look of terror and listens to the patrolmen talk excitedly.

She understands their language clearly, hearing them talk of where this mystery person could be.

“They must be in the water,” one says.

“Let’s look,” the other replies.

With their chests pressed together, their hearts drum rapidly in sync. Despite the adrenaline surging through his veins, Arthur keeps his breathing slow. He clenches his eyes shut as he silently scolds himself for being so foolish. When his eyelids open, he nearly jerks away in alarm. Isopora remains close to him, but her entire body has now changed color. An arm is slightly outstretched above Arthur’s head with Isopora’s hand pressed against the rock behind him. Peppered with splotches of gray, black and white, her skin has turned into the same pale shade as the stones surrounding them. Her once smooth arms are now textured with raised bumps and edges that mimic the stone. She covers Arthur’s body with her camouflaged form and remains still like a statue. Her eyes turn black and the cloudy membranes of her lids cover her obsidian orbs.

Time passes slowly while they remain as still as can be. The rifle on Arthur’s back painfully presses into him, but he doesn’t dare to adjust himself. He feels Isopora’s hand gripping his side tightly, her arm wrapped around his lower back. The tips of her fingers squeeze his flesh and her body presses against him completely, covering him in a protective cocoon. Arthur’s chapped lips nearly brush her shoulder as she towers over him closely, keeping his face hidden in the crook of her neck.

Isopora’s eyes dart to her left. A man in blue stands at the edge of the tide, less than a hundred feet away.

Rifle in hand, he leans forward to peer towards their hiding spot. It’s as if he’s staring right at them, unaware.

Arthur’s eyes remain on Isopora, fearful of making the slightest movement that could give them away.

Isopora stares at the blue soldier with unwavering eyes. She watches him examine the rough pillars of stone with his own dark eyes. She can feel him follow the curves of her body that’s almost merged with the rock. Arthur stays hidden within the small gap. He squeezes his arm around Isopora’s waist for dear life.

The unseen second patrolman calls for his companion, and the man turns away to look. Isopora’s eyes follow him as he walks out of sight. She hears the men speak as they hopefully assume whoever left those boots is now drowned far away from shore. Isopora listens closely as the men leave and resume walking along the beach. Their voices grow faint until she can hear them no longer. Gradually, the splotchy pale camouflage disintegrates and Isopora’s natural tone reappears in a smooth cascade. Like the blush in Arthur’s cheeks, her beautiful color flushes to her skin. The two remain in a quiet stillness, barely feeling the other’s heartbeat under the gentle waves that splash over them. The waves push and pull in a gentle rhythm. Isopora’s body softly pushes against Arthur’s before pulling away. His own body follows towards her as the wave pulls them back, moving their hips in an almost aquatic dance.

“Come,” Isopora finally breaks the silence, drifting away and extending a hand for Arthur to follow. He lightly grasps her hand and swims alongside her back to shore.

“You think it’s safe for you to head back?” Isopora asks, looking to him with her unveiled eyes.

His clothes drenched and heavy, Arthur stands and walks up on the sand.

“I dunno,” he says, staring blankly in thought, “This island seems t’be crawlin’ with ‘em. I don’t know if it’s safe anywhere.”

An idea breaks in Isopora’s head while Arthur slips on his boots.

“There’s a cave,” she tells him, “Not too far from here, behind the waterfall. Meet me there when you can.”

Arthur’s jaw goes slack and he raises an eyebrow in question, “How do you—”

“There’s a channel that leads to it,” she explains, “I can easily go through it and it leads to a small pool on the other side.”

Arthur nods before looking up towards the sun. It’s still early in the afternoon yet; plenty of sunlight to find his way back.

“Okay. How do I find it?” He asks.

“Just follow the river upstream. You’ll see it. Climb behind the waterfall and follow the cave straight ahead. Follow the gaps in the ceiling. The light will show you the way. You’ll reach the end of the cave that opens to a clearing.” She answers.

Another nod and Arthur turns to face the jungle. He feels exposed on this empty beach with no canopy of cover to hide in, but to enter the hanging vines and broad ferns of the dense forest fills him with dread. What lurks in the dark corners of this humid labyrinth? A single step in the wrong direction could lead to doom.

“Arthur?”

He looks back over his shoulder to Isopora with his bright, blue-green eyes.

“Be safe.” She tells him.

“You too.” Arthur replies in a near whisper.

He steps forward into the trees, shoulders tense and eyes scanning his surroundings. Isopora watches him from the shore until he disappears into the thick and shady foliage.

[fishymom-art]

She-Ra Recap (SPOILER ALERT)

ALRIGHT, AFTER 3-4 DAYS OF BINGE-WATCHING, I FINALLY FINISHED IT!!

And I’d like to tell you about every wonderful moment/thing in the show (and why you should watch it, if you didn’t). Right in time to all the hype around the end!

- Glimmer going from that little girl who couldn’t control her powers to a powerful queen and sorceress that can oppose her own father, who was one of the strongest sorcerers of all!! She became unbelievably powerful and honestly? The best character development.

- Entrapta’s character. I knoooow I talk about her a lot, but she is literally the reason I watched the show and I have all the right to continue talking about her. She is a very interesting character. She is a loner, no one has ever been friends with her without her annoying them. Even her own staff don’t like her. When she tried joining the Princesses Alliance, everybody would always tell her how “wrong” she is in their image. That’s why it was so easy to pull her to Horde’s side. She could close in herself again, dedicating herself to First One’s tech. And suddenly, she found people who didn’t judge her for who she is. Especially Hordak. He didn’t care how “wrong” she is, he wasn’t the best himself and he admits it throughout the show. He saw that she could be a good friend if you give her a chance. And he did. And I fucking love the Lab Partners.

- The fact that no one, even the villains/antagonists cares about ones  personality. Especially sexual orientation. Heck, Horde Prime used love in his privilege and that was the most normal thing. No one gets surprised at Bow’s dads, no one gets surprised or uncomfortable with Netossa and Spinnerella being wives and no one CERTAINLY doesn’t get uncomfortable with Catra and Adora. Love is one of the most important topics in She-Ra, although not directly. We are shown that love can come in different forms, friendship (Bow, Glimmer, Adora and Catra), teamwork/support (literally almost anyone, but I will go with Lenny, Rogelio and Kyle, because they got a nice character development too) and relationships of course. And no one will question who’s your partner in crime! Hordak - one of the main villains- and Entrapta - an outsider princess? Great team, friends, lovers, think as you wish. Glimmer and Shadow Weaver? Heck yeah, teacher and student (also, imho, Shadow Weaver deserves the world), and Perfuma with Scorpia, supporting each other through every step. Love love love!!!! Only love can win against evil! (Love and some hardcore weaponry)

- Can we please bring up Swift Wind? The best loyal steed a hero can have. Honestly, I didn’t like him and the fact that he talked made me uncomfortable at first. But he is such a funny character! And I think he is a great supporter to She-Ra. I love him.

- Every ship you have is canon! Like, literally, no matter who you ship, they totally have some kind of a bond and there is no way they couldn’t be a couple. But I won’t let you ship Kyle with anyone except for Rogelio, I am sorry, I don’t make the rules.

- Everything characters do has a meaning to the lore. Every their action influences the future. And this is sooo cool! It lets you theorize a lot, you get engaged a lot more, because you know that character’s decision will have consequences. Mostly to their own character which is the next thing.

- Mentality. We can see how actions influence the characters. The fight between Adora and Glimmer specifically. They couldn’t trust one another at some point, which influenced the way they handled things. Also, Catra sending Entrapta to Beast Island, allowing a portal to open which led to... khem, some bad things (Season 4. I don’t like Season 4. It’s all wrong without Angella). We can see Adora, always judging herself because everything depends on her. That’s a realistic behavior for a hero, because you feel that everyone blames the strongest one if the team loses. We can see Catra having issues with herself after she pushes Scorpia away, realizing how much of a bad friend she is. And so on!

- WRONG HORDAK. Ok, I was watching She-Ra with @captainleemon​ and he disliked Wrong Hordak, but COME ON. He is a BABY! He is a literal face of “giving a second chance”. He was such a relief to watch! While Season 5 was all intense and serious, Wrong Hordak was there being a complete sweetheart and I thank Heavens for blessing us with him.

- I talked about it already, but D E S I G N!!! In the original show, every woman character was overly sexualized. Men too, of course. You can’t be a hero if you’re not buff and sexy!

Look at Bow!!! Yes, he lost his cool mustache, but he became realistic!!! You don’t need to be buff to be strong! And he is SUPER STRONG!

Also, look at ENTRAPTA!!! Yes yes, that’s her! Imagine remake Entrapta wearing that sexy clothes, Hordak would lose it XD. I think their new costumes fit their personalities and work better now. I don’t think flying around on your hair and working in front of a computer is as comfortable in a dress as in a jumpsuit. 

- Everybody deciding it’s time to confess their love to one another in the end, because hey, we will probably die, why not? First Glimmer to Bow, then Sea Hawk to Mermista (although he did it a lot before), Hordak kinda admitting he is soft for Entrapta. And Catra like “well, if everybody does that, I might as well follow the majority”. Can’t believe they invented love.

- The Best Friend Squad interrupting Huntara from flirting with a woman in a bar. That’s all, that’s the thing.

- Micah being a complete dork, when young and when old. 

woah, that’s a lot. BUT WE’RE NOT DONE YET!!!!

- My favorite is probably the fact that they mixed magic with technologies which is my all time favorite thing!!! The planet is a weapon??? First Ones were making technologies using magic??? LIGHT HOPE?? My gosh, it gives you so much possibilities! And also an excuse to do whatever you want with the tech and not explain it scientifically , it will all work, because it has something to do with magic. You have to explain how tech works, but you don’t have to explain magic ;))

- This show made me SO EMOTIONAL. Every character has a meaning and I am happy they didn’t kill or hurt characters without a purpose. I am talking Angella’s death. I’m still not over it. I was hoping she’ll come back in the end, but ugh.... well, you have to learn how to move on.

- ksjthrtliuhriuy THE INTRO AND HOW IT WAS CHANGING DEPENDING ON WHAT WAS HAPPENING!!! Scratch that, THE INTRO ITSELF!!! Imma do a fucking cover, you can’t stop me, it’s one of the best intros I’ve heard in a while. It can fight Gravity Falls and Steven Universe.

- Sea Hawk’s shanties. Period.

Ok, I think that’s all. If there’s anything I will remember, I’ll add. You can also add something yourself, if you want! Thank you for sticking around!

[dear-indies]

can you please suggest actors / actresses only that are half black and half white as well as fully black actors with a darker complexion between ages 20-60 that have period roles? thanks!

Gugu Mbatha-Raw (Belle, Black Mirror) Black South African / English. 

Angel Coulby (Merlin) Afro-Guyanese, possibly East Indian / English.

Natalie Gumede (Jekyll & Hyde) Zimbabwean / English. 

Melanie Liburd (Dracula, Double Play) Kittian and Nevisian / English. 

Shalom Brune-Franklin (Cursed) Mauritian / English. 

Cynthia Addai-Robinson (Spartacus, Texas Rising) Ghanaian  / English.

Natalie Simpson (Outlander, Les Miserables) Nigerian / Unspecified White. 

Jasmin Savoy Brown (Will) African-American / European. 

Amanda Brugel (The Handmaid’s Tale)African-American / English.  

Lucien Laviscount (Still Star-Crossed) Afro-Antiguan / English.

Kingsley Ben-Adir (King Arthur: Legend of the Sword) Moroccan / English. 

Alex Sawyer (Macbeth, The White Princess, Harlots) Ghanaian / English, Finnish.

Elliot Knight (Sinbad) Nigerian / English. 

Howard Charles (The Musketeers) Afro-Jamaican / English. 

O-T Fagbenle (The Handmaid’s Tale) Yoruba Nigerian / British.

Joey Ansah (Beowulf: Return to the Shieldlands) Ghanaian / English. 

Corbin Bleu (Witches in the Woods)  Afro-Jamaican / Italian. 

and here are some dark-skinned / darker-skinned actors with period roles!

Yetide Badaki (American Gods) Nigerian. 

Danai Gurira (The Walking Dead, Black Panther) Zimbabwean. 

Lupita Nyong'o (Black Panther) Luo Kenyan. 

Florence Kasumba (Black Panther) Ugandan. 

Shaunette Renée Wilson (Black Panther) Afro-Guyanese.

Barbara Eve Harris (Harlots) Afro-Tobagonian.

Cynthia Erivo (Harriet) Nigerian. 

Mouna Traoré (Murdoch Mysteries) Cameroonian.

DeWanda Wise (Underground) African-American.

Saycon Sengblloh (Double Play) African-American / Liberian.

Estella Daniels (Sinbad) Sierra Leonean.

Stephanie Levi John (The Spanish Princess) Afro-Caribbean. 

Ebonee Noel (Still Star Crossed) Afro-Guyanese.

Lashana Lynch (Still Star-Crossed) Afro-Jamaican. 

Tamara Lawrance (The Long Song) Afro-Jamaican. 

Joy Richardson (The Long Song, Mrs Wilson) Black British. 

Yrsa Daley-Ward (World on Fire) Afro-Jamaican / Nigerian. 

Susan Wokoma (Year of the Rabbit) Nigerian.

Wunmi Mosaku (Macbeth, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, I Am Slave) Yoruba Nigerian.

Simona Brown (Roots, The Little Drummer Girl) Afro-Jamaican. 

Adaku Ononogbo (Cursed) Nigerian, Trinidadian and/or Tobagonian.

Gary Carr (Bolden, Downtown Abbey) Yoruba Nigerian.

Nonso Anozie (Cinderella, Game of Thrones, Conan the Barbarian) Nigerian. 

Gershwyn Eustache Jnr (Britannia) Afro-Trinidadian or Afro-Tobagonian.

Babs Olusanmokun (Roots) Nigerian. 

Derek Luke (Roots) Afro-Guyanese / African-American.

Malachi Kirby (Roots) Afro-Jamaican. 

Mustafa Shakir(Double Play) African-American. 

Demetrius Grosse (Westworld, Frontier) African-American.

David Gyasi (Trroy: Fall of a City, Carnival Row) Ghanaian. 

Idris Elba (The Dark Tower, Thor: Ragnarok) Ghanaian / Sierra Leonean.

Danny Sapani (Harlots, Penny Dreadful, Black Panther) Ghanaian. 

Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje (Game of Thrones) Nigerian.

Lennie James (The Walking Dead, Fear The Walking Dead, Double Play) African-American.

Hakeem Kae-Kazim (Black Sails) Nigerian.

Gary Beadle (In the Heart of the Sea) Black British. 

Isaach De Bankolé (Black Panther) Ivorian.

Ansu Kabia  (World on Fire, Miss Scarlet and the Duke) Afro-Guyanese.  

Bolded = has resources at time of posting. Some roles aren’t specifically period roles but could be portrayed as period roles! -C

[kinny-21]

Random Lenny dump

Idk what the bottom one is I was trying to do faces 💀

[songsofprotestpeacerevolution]

Give Peace A Chance - Peace Choir

It’s been almost 28 years since Lenny Kravitz asked Yoko Ono if he could update the song, was given that blessing and rewrote it with Sean Lennon-Ono. This version as with the original still needs to be sung today.

Everybody's talkin' 'bout: Planet earth Rebirth United Nations Good relations Space stations Starvation Radiation Salvation Education Liberation 

Civil war Revolution Armageddon No solution Are we facing Vietnam? We don't want to Drop the bomb 

Acid house Gay spouse Green house Heavy metal Hip-hop Censorship Has to stop HIV AZT New Kids Dance on MTV With toxic waste dumps In the sea

Amazon's Trees gone Cancer cells From the sun Middle East Crazy beast Rock 'n rollers Sing for peace. 

Adam Ant, Ahmet Zappa, Al Jarreau, Alannah Myles, Amina, Bonnie Raitt, Bros, Bruce Hornsby, Cyndi Lauper, Davey Johnstone, Dave Stewart, Don Was, Duff McKagan, Dweezil Zappa, Felix Cavaliere, Flea, Iggy Pop, Jazzie B, Joe Higgs, John Frusciante, Kadeem Hardison, L.L. Cool J, Lee Jaffe, Lenny Kravitz, Little Richard, Little Steven Van Zandt, M.C. Hammer, Michael McDonald, Moon Zappa, New Voices Of Freedom, Ofra Haza, Peter Gabriel, Q-Tip, Randy Newman, Run DMC, Sean Ono Lennon, Sebastian Bach, Teena Marie, Terence Trent D'Arby, Tom Petty, Wendy & Lisa, Yoko Ono and the late John Lennon.....

[askwaterwitch-perbear]

TAGGED BY : no one

TAGGING : anybody who wants to do this!

NAME:  2f5l-cut-5xg (Peridot)

NICKNAME:  (Steven)-Ominous Triangle, Angry little slice of pie, Peri. (Amethyst)-Homegirl, Green Pancake, Wondernerd, Peri, P-dot Nerd, Perisnot, Peri-dactyl, Per. (Pearl)-Tiny Twerp. (Garnet)-Clods like you. (Lapis)-Bossy. (Topaz)-Perbear. (Honeydew)-Shortcake. (Amie)-Shorty. (Ditz)-Half-pint. (Swiss)-Techie. 

GENDER: Agender, Genderless Gem (uses she/her pronouns)  

AGE: 2,000-3,000 years old (14 years old) as a human

DATE OF BIRTH: August exact emerging date unknown

OCCUPATION: Crystal Gem

██▒   APPEARANCE

EYE COLOR: Blue

HAIR COLOR: Lime Green/ Blonde Yellow

HEIGHT: 4′5 ft

SCARS: N/A 

OVERWEIGHT: No.

UNDERWEIGHT:  No

██▒   FAVORITE

COLOR: GREEN

ANIMAL/S: Cats

MOVIE/S: Batman, Sci-fi, Alien, Spiderman, The Incredibles, Toy Story, Star Wars, WALL-E, 

TV SHOW: Camp Pinning Hearts

FOOD: Bagel Bites, Cookies, Mac’N’cheese, Grilled Cheese.  

DRINK: Mountain Dew, Milk

BOOK: Manuals, Comic Books, Romances

██▒   HAVE THEY

PASSED UNIVERSITY: (canonically no) In the process(canon divergent) 

HAD SEX: (eh, I guess) 

HAD SEX IN PUBLIC: NO! 

GOTTEN PREGNANT:

KISSED A BOY: No

KISSED A GIRL: No

GOTTEN TATTOOS: No

HAD A BROKEN HEART: No

BEEN IN LOVE: Yes

STAYED UP FOR MORE THAN 24 HOURS:  Canonically, I’ve seen Peridot up late

██▒   ARE THEY

A VIRGIN: No

A KISSER: She can be

SCARED EASILY: Totaly

JEALOUS EASILY: Yes

TRUSTWORTHY: Yes

IN LOVE: Yes

SINGLE: (canonically) Yes

██▒   RANDOM QUESTIONS

HAVE THEY HARMED THEMSELVES: No

THOUGHT OF SUICIDE:  No

ATTEMPTED SUICIDE:  No

WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE:  No

DROVE A CAR: Nope.

HAVE/HAD A JOB:  Besides being a Crystal Gem, my muse works part-time as a technician for Best Buy

HAVE ANY FEARS: Yes

██▒   FAMILY

SIBLINGS: If you count one of the blogs I follow. NCP big sister. Steven (figuratively) & kind of~Lapis and Amethyst, Honeydew-(Human)

PARENTS: main verse canon divergent Honeydew & Amie

CHILDREN:

PETS: Chief (robonoid/Her lizard) Pumpkin (Human-rescued stray dog)

NAME: 87yl-cut-66xb (Lapis Lazuli) 

NICKNAME: (Steven)-Bob, Ready-Freddy? Lil Lappy (Greg)-Riptide Queen, Captain Lazuli. (Amethyst)-Crop Top, Grump, Sappy. (Honeydew)-Tempest Gem. (Topaz)-Angel. (Raine)-Squirt, Goofball.  

GENDER: Agender, Genderless Gem (uses she/her pronouns)  

AGE: 6,000+ Years 

DATE OF BIRTH: December/Summer exact date unknown.

OCCUPATION: None, (canon divergent)-Starbucks employee 

██▒   APPEARANCE

EYE COLOR: Blue

HAIR COLOR: Cobalt Dark-Blue

HEIGHT: 5 ft

SCARS: Perhaps numerous

OVERWEIGHT:  No.

UNDERWEIGHT:  maybe.

██▒   FAVORITE

COLOR: Blue

ANIMAL/S: Marine Life, Dogs 

MOVIE/S: Little Mermaid, Finding Nemo, Moana, Happy Feet, The Roommate, Last house on the left, Shark Night, JAWS, Jurrasic Park, Titanic, Beauty and the Beast. 

TV SHOW: Crying Breakfast Friends

FOOD: Popsicles, Brite Crawlers, Gummy Bears, ice cream, Pizza, sandwiches, fries.

DRINK: Water

BOOK: Romances, Horror,  

██▒   HAVE THEY

PASSED UNIVERSITY: None (canon divergent- She’s trying)

HAD SEX: Yes. (canonically no) 

HAD SEX IN PUBLIC: No. 

GOTTEN PREGNANT:

KISSED A BOY: probably not

KISSED A GIRL: big no.

GOTTEN TATTOOS: yes. (human) 

HAD A BROKEN HEART: Yes

BEEN IN LOVE: Yes

STAYED UP FOR MORE THAN 24 HOURS:  Canonically, I don’t think so, but he could have.

██▒   ARE THEY

A VIRGIN: no.

A KISSER: Big, passionate

SCARED EASILY: Heck no. 

JEALOUS EASILY: Huge, Jealous type.

TRUSTWORTHY: eh

IN LOVE: Yes

SINGLE: (canonically) Yes (canon divergent) No. Married.

██▒   RANDOM QUESTIONS

HAVE THEY HARMED THEMSELVES: Yes.

THOUGHT OF SUICIDE:  Several. 

ATTEMPTED SUICIDE:  She has.

WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE:  Possibly

DROVE A CAR: Nope.

HAVE/HAD A JOB: No. (canon divergent) She’s a Starbucks employee.  

HAVE ANY FEARS: Yes

██▒   FAMILY

SIBLINGS: Raine, Amethyst (figuratively) 

PARENTS: None, (canon divergent) “Raine” maybe

CHILDREN:

PETS: Pumpkin, then budgies~Lapis Jr. and Malachite 2-(birds-human), Axolotl-Ariel (human and canon div) (canon divergent pets) Anonymous Fish, Octopus-Octavius, Sharks- Lenny, Frank, Bruce, Brunch, Orca Whales- Spot, Willy, Dolphin~Moe, Rabbit Slug-Greg Crab-Pincher, Whale-George, 

NAME: 2x8c-cut-7xg (Ditz)

NICKNAME:  Ditz, (Kyanite)-Ditzy (Honeydew)-Loser, (Amie)-Smartie, (Swiss)-Techie2  

GENDER: Agender, Genderless Gem (uses she/her pronouns)   

AGE: 3,000+

DATE OF BIRTH: August before Peridot

OCCUPATION: Secret Rebel, Heating/Cooling specialist, High-level Technician.

██▒   APPEARANCE

EYE COLOR: Emerald Green

HAIR COLOR: Lime Green/brown highlights  

HEIGHT: 4′7 ft 

SCARS: Nah 

OVERWEIGHT: No

UNDERWEIGHT:  No

██▒   FAVORITE

COLOR: Emerald Green, White, Yellow, Purple, Red. 

ANIMAL/S: Big Dog/Cat Lover and hamsters.  

MOVIE/S: Jurassic Park, The Hunchback of Notredame, Ratatouille, The Iron Giant, Jumanji. 

TV SHOW: Kim Possible

FOOD: Chips, Nachos, Rice, Ice Cream, Pizza, Shrimp, Crabs, Lobsters, Cheetos, Cheese balls.   

DRINK: Monster, Lemonade, Milkshakes.

BOOK: Romeo and Juliet hard copy. Sci-fi Books, Westerns. 

██▒   HAVE THEY

PASSED UNIVERSITY: Homeworld Academy.

HAD SEX: Nope

HAD SEX IN PUBLIC: No.

GOTTEN PREGNANT: 

KISSED A BOY: No

KISSED A GIRL: No

GOTTEN TATTOOS: No

HAD A BROKEN HEART: Many.

BEEN IN LOVE: Yes

STAYED UP FOR MORE THAN 24 HOURS:  Totally.

██▒   ARE THEY

A VIRGIN: Yes.

A KISSER: Wants to be the best. kisser

SCARED EASILY: sometimes?

JEALOUS EASILY: Not really. 

TRUSTWORTHY: Yes.

IN LOVE: Yes.

SINGLE: (canonically) Yes

██▒   RANDOM QUESTIONS

HAVE THEY HARMED THEMSELVES: No

THOUGHT OF SUICIDE:  No

ATTEMPTED SUICIDE:  No

WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE:  No

DROVE A CAR: She can drive a spaceship. Car, no.

HAVE/HAD A JOB: None. Duties on Homeworld. 

HAVE ANY FEARS: Yes

██▒   FAMILY

SIBLINGS: Considers her new higher supervisor Posie a sister to her.

PARENTS: No one.

CHILDREN:

PETS: None.

NAME:  8r9a-cut-9xy (Raine)

NICKNAME: Technically her nickname is Raine (Lapis)-Queen of the Undead, Dark Lord.

GENDER: Agender, Genderless Gem (uses she/her pronouns)  

AGE: 8,000+

DATE OF BIRTH: December unknown date

OCCUPATION: Terraformer. 

██▒   APPEARANCE

EYE COLOR: ice blue

HAIR COLOR: light black & blue purple highlights

HEIGHT: 5′2 ft 

SCARS: internal

OVERWEIGHT: No.

UNDERWEIGHT: No.

██▒   FAVORITE

COLOR: Light Purple

ANIMAL/S: dogs, sea turtles, seals. 

MOVIE/S: The Notebook, Moana, Ponyo, When Marnie was there, Titanic, Les Miserables. 

TV SHOW: Pretty Little Liars

FOOD: Soup, Vegetables, Salad, bagels

DRINK: Tea, Lemonade, Coffee. Water.

BOOK: Romances, 

██▒   HAVE THEY

PASSED UNIVERSITY: No. (Top of her class in the Homeworld Acadamey)

HAD SEX: Yes. (canonically no) 

HAD SEX IN PUBLIC: No. 

GOTTEN PREGNANT:

KISSED A BOY: No

KISSED A GIRL: No

GOTTEN TATTOOS: No

HAD A BROKEN HEART: No.

BEEN IN LOVE: Yes

STAYED UP FOR MORE THAN 24 HOURS:  Canonically, I don’t think so, but he could have.

██▒   ARE THEY

A VIRGIN: Yes.

A KISSER: No.

SCARED EASILY: Not always.

JEALOUS EASILY: No.

TRUSTWORTHY: Yes

IN LOVE: Yes

SINGLE: (canonically) Yes

██▒   RANDOM QUESTIONS

HAVE THEY HARMED THEMSELVES: No

THOUGHT OF SUICIDE:  No

ATTEMPTED SUICIDE:  No

WANTED TO KILL SOMEONE:  No

DROVE A CAR: No.

HAVE/HAD A JOB:  No.

HAVE ANY FEARS: loosely

██▒   FAMILY

SIBLINGS: Lapis Lazuli (human)

PARENTS: Blue Diamond (respects her like a mom)

CHILDREN:

PETS: No pets.

[spiffyb]

Annabelle’s Totem

Deep in the Ya Ha Tinda, forests filled with firs and aspen trees are punctuated with fields of wild horses, Mustangs running free in the wind which shakes the tall, coarse grass.

           Annabelle gazed out the window of the cherry red pick-up truck, which was firmly closed to stop the dust getting in, as she drove along the dirt road to nowhere. Her GPS had cut out over a mile ago, and she wondered how she was going to find the ranch in the first place. Luckily, all the roads were in grid out West, which made things easier, and there was no traffic to speak of. But there were also no gas stations. The nearest one was in Sundre, so she just had to keep driving. She wasn’t lost yet.

           Finally, the trees cleared and a log cabin on a hill and a sizeable red barn, bordered by a wooden post-and-rail fence, appeared in the distance. Annabelle turned the truck into the driveway, putting it into park and climbing out to clumsily open the gate with a hand-carved sign inscribed ‘Lucky Diamond Ranch’. Sounds like the name of a Casino. After closing the gate, she pulled up right by the cabin, and looked around for signs of human life. The air was rich with the smell of horse hair, horse dung and silage.

           ‘Howdy,’ a lean man wearing a Stetson, worn-looking leather cowboy boots, Wrangler jeans and a blue plaid shirt swung one leg and the other over a fence and jumped down like an agile cat. ‘I’m Lenny.’

           Annabelle introduced herself, reluctantly shaking Lenny’s rather dirty outstretched hand. Lenny and his brother Bryn, who was really his half-brother, ran the ranch. Bryn happened to be a veterinarian, and was out on a farm call at the time. Something about a cow with a prolapsed uterus. Annabelle said she didn’t want to know.

           ‘You want anything? Coffee? Some Jack Daniels?’ Lenny offered. Annabelle had almost stepped in some horse apples.

           ‘Coffee, please.’ She followed Lenny inside the log cabin, which consisted mainly of one room, with paintings of country scenes and all manor of animal heads hanging on the walls. She took a mug of tar-like substance that smelled something like coffee in her hands, and thought better than to drink it. Lenny just smiled. He was handsome but, Annabelle thought, wasted on this solitary existence. What kind of man lives out in the boonies with his brother and other animals, anyway?

           After exchanging few words, Lenny lead Annabelle out to the paddock. The horses stood around, their coats gleaming in the bright Alberta sunlight, swishing their tails back and forth. One, a buckskin gelding, nuzzled Annabelle’s palm. ‘He likes you,’ Lenny said, ‘That one’s Joey.’

           Annabelle regarded the beast. He was around 15 hands high, probably a quarter horse and young, maybe three. ‘Is he broke?’

           ‘Yeah, he’s a fine animal,’ Lenny beamed, ‘Strong, though. Not suitable for beginner riders.’ He gestured to the gelding’s flank and powerful quarters.

           Annabelle rolled her eyes. ‘Can I take him out?’

           ‘What, all by yourself?’

           Annabelle said of course by herself. As a girl, she loved watching the show jumping at Spruce Meadows, and she had taken lessons in dressage as many years ago. Lenny shrugged and went to the barn to get a saddle. As he hoisted the leather saddle onto Joey’s gently curved back, fixing the girth in place, Annabelle noticed Lenny was smirking and shot him a questioning look.

           ‘Out here we call you folks “Coca-cola Cowboys”.’ Not funny. Annabelle found it about as amusing as she found the horn at the front of the saddle, and she unwillingly found herself imagining what sorts of injuries a person could sustain from that appendage. She said nothing while Lenny continued saddling her horse fluently. ‘Do you know how to neck-reign? No? Well, you can pony-reign if you need; most horses understand it.’ He gestured a neck-reign demonstration, which looked rather as though he were miming how to change gears in a stick-shift car. Annabelle drove automatic for a reason.

           Having mounted the horse with some elegance, Annabelle gathered the smooth, brown leather reigns in her right hand and sat straight with feigned confidence. Lenny told her to go straight across the field to the west of the ranch, and head along the well-worn path through the forest towards the Blue Mountain, said the ride took about an hour there and back.

           Commencing at a walk, Annabelle rode Joey through an open barb-wired gate into a lush green field, with hills and forests in the distance. She nudged him gently with her heels to guide him into a trot, but also squeezed him slightly with her legs, prompting Joey to burst into a gallop. His long, beige legs propelled them forwards with ease, as his hard, black hooves danced rhythmically across the field. He moved so smoothly, Annabelle felt like they were flying.

           After a while, Annabelle left the city behind and relaxed her shoulders. This expedition felt like the most natural thing in the world. For the first time in weeks, Annabelle forgot about Eric. She could have gone to a spa or done yoga in a comfortable studio with a hardwood floor and a vast window overlooking the mountains. Eschewing luxury, she opted to get as far away as possible, which the Ya Ha Tinda promised. In reality, she found herself in the middle of nowhere: the antithesis of glamour. She thought of Lenny, about how ridiculous he must have found this yahoo with her designer handbag and brand-new Levi’s.

They came into a clearing in the forest, where a large elk stood wearing a crown of great antlers. Annabelle didn’t see the elk, and neither did the horse at first, so she was unprepared when her mount leapt sideways with all four feet in the air.

           ‘Whoa, boy!’ the command came forth instinctively. ‘Whoa! I said “whoa”!’ Surprise became panic, as the horse kicked his hind legs towards the sky, bucking like a bronco at a rodeo. The rider flew into the air, and fell onto the forest floor like a bird shot out of the sky. The elk had already dashed into the woods. Annabelle picked up a small, smooth stone and threw it at the horse, who whinnied and took off down the trail. ‘Stupid animal!’

           Annabelle started to shiver slightly, and she looked up at the sky, blue streaked through with crimson, lilac, flame orange and pink, like a painting of meadow flowers: Indian paintbrushes, fireweed and pale pink Alberta roses. She pulled her denim jacket around herself. It was still Spring and the nights could get cold. Having shaken off the shock of her little misadventure, she scrambled to her feet and walked slowly to the edge of the clearing, hoping to find the trail. Appraising the ground, she couldn’t make out any hoof prints. Deer, elk, and coyote prints all mixed together. If a horse had walked there, Annabelle didn’t know. Tears sprang from her eyes, running down her cheeks like the Red Deer river which roared in the distance, too far away for her to hear.

           Grasshoppers clicked their legs, chirping softly. A small bird, high in a Balsam tree sang chick-a-dee-dee-dee, chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Compared to the city, it was so quiet, but Annabelle hated the silence and every noise the forest made. When a coyote howled like a ghost, Annabelle thought it was a wolf, great and grey with menacing fangs. In the clearing, bushes decorated with bright red berries clustered around. Although her stomach growled, she dared not touch the berries for fear they were poisonous. What Annabelle didn’t know was that these fruits were named bearberries, and the grizzlies who feasted on them were somewhere in the mountains enclosing the Ya Ha Tinda’s Western perimeter. For a moment, Annabelle took her cell phone out of her pocket and laughed. That was useless out here. There was no way to call for help. If, in her panic, she cried out frantically for help, there’s no telling what creatures she would awaken. If she climbed up a tree, there’s no way she could get away from a mountain lion, with its sharp talons and unnatural speed.

           Stick to the trails and be back before dark.

           As the sun disappeared, the painted sky turned inky black, dusted with stars. Far from the city, you could see every star with clarity, and a group of stars gathered in the shape of a ladle. And at the tip of its handle was the North Star. And if Annabelle had known this, she could have found her way back through the thick forests, down the hill and across the grassy plain. But the forest was forbidding, a sea of trees standing still like totem poles.

           Annabelle turned around. Something rustled in the bushes, heading towards her. Two brown eyes peered at her from the dark forest. Suddenly the beast burst into the clearing.

           ‘Joey!’ Annabelle cried, startled. Moonlight revealed the familiar outline of a horse. The animal had appeared like a spirit from the forest, a shadow of the history of the Stony tribe who once wandered these plains and mountains. The western wind moved through the trees, gently tousling Annabelle’s auburn mane like waves on the sea. Surrounded by this wonderful wilderness, she paused and hesitated mounting on the horse. She was lost in a dream. While her feet were planted firmly on the ground, she stood on a higher plane. While the wilderness was filled with mystic, it managed to simplify life. Before, Annabelle had only imagined that such places still existed, untouched by the urban sprawl.  Joey lowered his head and strolled shamefully towards Annabelle, who hugged his neck, as he bent his neck towards her, hugging her back. Joey looked different somehow, Annabelle thought, almost human. His big brown eyes were filled with apology. ‘I’m sorry too, boy,’ Annabelle said, gently stroking his nose. Sliding one foot in the stirrup, Annabelle got back on her horse. For a moment, she remembered she was still lost with no idea how to get back to the house.

           As they traversed the woodland in search of the trail, Annabelle breathed in the scent of lodgepole pines, listening to the call of a barn owl asking who-who-who? She couldn’t see a darn thing. The odd Alberta rosebush pricked her legs, and when Joey walked too close to a poplar she felt its corrugated bark against her calves. The young horse ambled along cautiously, until they eventually reached the edge of the forest. The night sky illuminated the field; its reflection played on the waters of a lake, so that it was impossible to differentiate the Earth from the atmosphere. Under the starlight, Joey galloped in the direction of an artificial light glowing in the distance.

‘Annabelle’s Totem’ by Barbara (Wilson) Drury (c)

[filemp3]

📢 VA - Today Big Pack 72-2020 🏷️VA - Today Big Pack 72-2020 zippy free download, Genre: EP / Packs / Albums, Label: FiLEMP3, Released: 2020-08-08, BPM: 100, 320 kbps #va #today #big #pack #72-2020 #ep #packs #albums #filemp3 TRACKLIST: //155 tracks Almi & Theus (BR) - Silence (Choopie & Sharkieboy Remix) Almi & Theus (BR) - Silence (Original Mix) Almi & Theus (BR) - Silence (Seth Vogt Remix) Alternative Kasual & Davi Lisboa - Fading Out (Original Mix) AMTRAC - Between The Lines (Zimmer Night Mix) AMTRAC - Between The Lines (Zimmer Remix) Antdot & Meca - Take Me Away (Original Mix) Arude - Instant (Extended Mix) Black Red - Evil Occasion (Original Mix) Briana & Antdot - Interlude (Original Mix) Bruno Be & Julio Torres feat. Emmathomas - Falling for You (Original Mix) Camilo Garcia Feat. Lucas Giacometti - Hurry The Cure (Original Mix) Can - Era (Original Mix) Can - Falling Leaves (Original Mix) Can - Lions From Above (Original Mix) Caravel - Resilience (Original Mix) Charlie Sparks - No Speed Limit (Original Mix) Childov - As you Dance (Original Mix) Childov - This (Original Mix) Childov - Tolerance (Original Mix) Chris Coles & Latex Zebra - The Dark One (Original Mix) Coeus - Beyond Dreaming (Original Mix) Coeus - Horizon (Original Mix) Coeus - Lucent (Original Mix) Coeus - Momentum (Original Mix) Coffee Face - Siberia (Daddys Waves Remix) Coffee Face - Siberia (Original Mix) Coffee Face - Siberia (The Blockchain Remix) Coffee Face - Siberia (Torsten Fassbender Remix) Coffee Face - SiberiaSiberia (QDream Remix) Cowlam - Cyra (Original Mix) Cowlam - Solaris (Original Mix) Dabeat Kamilo Sanclemente - Blackhole (Original Mix) Dabeat Kamilo Sanclemente - Canis (Morttagua Remix) Dabeat Kamilo Sanclemente - Canis (Original Mix) Dabeat Kamilo Sanclemente - Nao (Original Mix) Dan Barrientos - Move (Original Mix) Dari - Reaching (Extended Version) Darper - 12 Minutes Back (Original Mix) Darper - Crow (Original Mix) Darper - Kyune (Original Mix) Darper - Whispers (Original Mix) Deeplomatik - Little Helper 368-1 (Original Mix) Deeplomatik - Little Helper 368-2 (Original Mix) Deeplomatik - Little Helper 368-3 (Original Mix) Deeplomatik - Little Helper 368-4 (Original Mix) Deeplomatik - Little Helper 368-5 (Original Mix) Deeplomatik - Little Helper 368-6 (Original Mix) Deeplomatik - Little Helper 368-7 (Original Mix) Digital Brains - Abstract Forms (Club Mix) DJ Boris - In Control (Original Mix) DJ Boris - Your Love (Original Mix) DJ Murphy & Spuri - Fraction (DJ Dextro Remix) DJ Murphy & Spuri - Fraction (Original Mix) DJ Murphy & Spuri - Fraction (Sin Sin Remix) DJ Murphy & Spuri - Fraction (Toni Alvarez Remix) Double MZK & Juliana Barbosa - Circles (Original Mix) Dropack & Makloud - Surface (Original Mix) Dysart - Mint (Original Mix) Dysart - Omnis (Original Mix) Dystopic - sounds of the end (Original Mix) Echonomist - Daydreaming (Original Mix) Enertia-sound - Are We Alone (Original Mix) Erly Tepshi - Mesmerize (Extended Mix) Fede Archdale - Mutiny (Original Mix) Fede Archdale - Searchlight (Original Mix) Framewerk - Schiller (Ruhe) (Breaks Mix) Framewerk - Schiller (Ruhe) (Chillout Mix) Framewerk - Schiller (Ruhe) (Intro Mix) Ghostlike feat. Luke Coulson - Transformation (Extended Mix) Guy J - Beast Of Sea (Original Mix) Guy J - Catfish (Original Mix) Helsloot - Getaway (Original Mix) Helsloot - Never Leave (Original Mix) HeoliK - Destino (Original Mix) HeoliK - Rapace (Original Mix) i_o & Raito - Cash (Original Mix) i_o & Raito - Dont Stop (Original Mix) i_o & Raito - Rvolution (Original Mix) i_o & Raito - Sensation (Original Mix) James Cole - Keep On Lovin Me (Original Mix) James Cole - Keep On Lovin Me (Unknown7 Remix) Jardim - A Billion Lights (Original Mix) Jardim - Rain (feat. Molly Frances) Jardim - Walking Stones (Original Mix) Joseph Capriati feat. James Senese - New Horizons (Original Mix) Kintar & Alain Fanegas - Lost in the State (Extended Mix) Lauhaus - Fish (Original Mix) Lauhaus - Full On Everything (Original Mix) Lauhaus - Of Historical (Original Mix) LE YOUTH - Waves (OCULA Remix) Lenny Dtox - Ocean (Original Mix) Lenny Dtox - Paradise (Original Mix) Level Groove - Nemia (Original Mix) Level Groove - People Move (Original Mix) Liam.M - Out Of Control (Original Mix) Max Blade - Reflections (Fabri Lopez Remix) Max Blade - Reflections (Martin Andrioli Remix) Max Blade - Reflections (Original Mix) Maxim Lany - Tribute (Extended Mix) Milkwish - Avalon (Original Mix) Milkwish - Avalon (Quivver Remix) Mood Shifter - Atlantis (Original Mix) Mood Shifter - Bretterbodendisco (Original Mix) Nacjus - Desolation (Original Mix) Nacjus - Distant (Original Mix) Nacjus - Timeless (Original Mix) Nico Banfi - Blast (Original Mix) Nico Banfi - Pitfall (Original Mix) Nico Banfi - Recoil (Original Mix) Nicon & Dirty Doering feat. Enda Gallery - Geil (Instrumental) Nicon & Dirty Doering feat. Enda Gallery - Geil (Original Mix) Nikolay Kirov - Remember Me (Original Mix) Nikolay Kirov - Weltraum (I Am Bam Rawmix) Nikolay Kirov - Weltraum (Original Mix) OCULA - As We Stand (Original Mix) OCULA - Equanimity (Original Mix) Olga Beatness - Eastern Night (Original Mix) Pauke Schaumburg - Havellove (Original Mix) Pauke Schaumburg - White Mountain North (Original Mix) PCP - Fish Chips (Original Mix) PCP - Just Mellow (Original Mix) PCP - Out of My Mind (Original Mix) Polar Inc. - Pastel (Original Mix) Polar Inc. - Regal (Original Mix) Pomella - DISCO LIGHTS (Original Mix) Pomella - Get On (Original Mix) Ronnie Spiteri - Kodewerk (Christian Smith Remix) Ronnie Spiteri - Kodewerk (Original Mix) Ronnie Spiteri - Repeat (Original Mix) Santi Cebrero & Chapa & Castelo - Hilaridad (Original Mix) Santti - All Over Again (Original Mix) Sean McClellan - Out Of Bounds (Original Mix) Sebastian Mora - Mystical Deity (Original Mix) Sebastian Mora - Sodoma (Original Mix) Sebastian Mora - Zebolim (Original Mix) SIsla - Lantia (Extended Mix) SNFNY - The Way You Move It Sobek - Legend from Outer Pace Sobek - Legend from Outer Pace (Tyu Remix) Sobek - Ruler of the Line TANKHAMUN - Acid Dreams Edgar Vasque (Original Mix) Ten Walls - Daily Rehearsal (Original Mix) Ten Walls - Dreams (Original Mix) Ten Walls - Dungeons (Original Mix) Ten Walls - Halo (Original Mix) Ten Walls - Jorge (Original Mix) Ten Walls - Loot (Original Mix) Ten Walls - Neighbourhood (Original Mix) Ten Walls - SSV Normandy (Original Mix) Ten Walls - Teacher (Original Mix) The BlackMailer - Racoon (Original Mix) Thonig & Bored Machines - Feel It Tonight (Original Mix) Tsheps & Mash feat. Lizwi - Lyakhala (Andreas Horvat New Vision Remix) Tsheps & Mash feat. Lizwi - Lyakhala (Original Mix) #filemp3 #audio #vibes #hifi #stereo #music #djs #clubbers #party #disco #exclusive #djmusic #housemusic #electro #freemusic 🌍 filemp3.net

[restorationofthetentofdavid]

SUNDAY BLESSING SERVICE. YOU SHALL BE INHABITED AGAIN BY THE GRACE OF GOD. 19TH JANUARY 2025. PART 1.

Job 12:7-10 (ESV)“But ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you; or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind. By Pastor Lenny Were. ✓ Subscribed