#prompt: water

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 18 - Water

Duke Was Never the Same:

The lake was blue. It was very blue, as if someone had plucked the purest sapphire from the deepest mine in Australia and carefully placed it into the place where the Skarloey lake was meant to be. It shimmered in the sun, barely a single ripple in the surface to betray the mirror that the lake seemed to pretend to be. It was gorgeous, and yet Duke couldn’t help but avert his eyes.

Rheneas liked gazing out towards the lake. He claimed it healed something within himself, that it made him feel at harmony with the world. It was one of his favourite topics, when he got the chance to get a word in edgeways in between Duncan’s complaining and Peter Sam’s chirpiness. Rheneas seemed to think it was the water, as if it had bubbled up from the earth’s core purely to soothe his soul and bring peace and serenity to the world around it. And sure, it had done just that – Skarloey Lake was surrounded by the lushest greenery on Sodor, thick oaks and vibrant flowers blanketed the banks of the lake where humans hadn’t cut them away to dot their resorts and villages along its coastline. The lake was their lifeblood, it’s waters a siren luring tourists and locals alike up to gaze upon it.

And yet, Duke could barely look upon the lake without feeling like spitting out all his coals. He knew there was something wrong with that – something truly wrong with a steam engine disliking water. It singled him out in a way that just… wasn’t normal. At least the lake was crystal blue or aqua green, depending on the season. Such colours were bold, natural.

It was the inky blackness of the lake at night that made Duke feel truly ill. The darkness of the water, the way that it rippled just enough to remind him of that day. Duke would do whatever job was asked of him, of course, but he tried his absolute best to avoid being out past dusk. This worked out well for him – he got the morning train, when the rising sun would blind him and made it impossible to see the lake for the glare reflecting off it – and in return he was back before the sun had dipped beyond the horizon.

It wasn’t the lake itself that was the problem, no. It was the water. Duke was fine with winding rivers and rushing rapids – the Rheneas Waterfall was really quite beautiful when Duke saw it – but when water was still, it was wrong. It was uncomfortable, it drew memories up from deep under the surface, ripping them out from where they’d been shoved deep down between his boiler tubes and taking everything with them. Duke knew he needed water to run – he was not like Henry, with such an intense phobia that it blinded him from his duties like the rain blinded engines when they were forced to run in it. He was merely… uncomfortable with it.

A new boat was unveiled on the lake. It was a bright, eye-catching red. Duke instantly hated it – red and water did not mix well within his mind. Nothing good came of the two mixing. Red-painted metal was not meant to touch water, not meant to come into contact with the very substance that would corrode it into nothingness. Water was a powerful force, after all. It rusted and it eroded. It pulled entire embankments down when it so desired; it flooded the valleys and left people with nothing left but broken dreams and sodden houses.

It left Duke with nothing.

The boat was shiny – it was not quite the same colour as James, or even any of the other Skarloey Railway engines. It’s red was entirely different, in a way none of the others recognised. Of course Duke was the only one to make the connection, he was the only one who could have ever known. No one else was alive who could say the same thing, they’d all been buried deep under the earth or torn to pieces by scrappers long, long ago. Duke was the only one left, the only one cursed to bear the burden of knowing, of caring.

Peter Sam and Sir Handel liked the boat way too much. Said it was oddly familiar, in a way they just couldn’t quite place their buffers on. Duke hoped they would never remember – not that they would be able to, he had only really been a story and a small hole in a brick wall to them. They’d not been witness to any of the truth, not been around for what really happened. At one point, Peter Sam almost found out, but Duke had been able to redirect him, protect his young puffling from the ugliness of reality. Sure, Peter Sam had suffered in his life – but at least the images that haunted Duke’s nightmares were confined to him alone. Peter Sam could be free, could live his life without ever knowing.

They all could.

Only Duke remembered.

Only Duke knew.

The red boat was not as waterproof as its owners had intended. When the autumn storms rolled through the mountains, thunderclouds beating their chests and hurling rain and lightning down upon the railway and all it served, the rain got into the red boat. It hadn’t been roped to its jetty properly, and one evening it got loose, floating out into the lake as rain pounded it from all sides, tearing at it and trying to find a weak point.

Duke had been the one to find it, on his early morning train. It had capsized, revealing its hull as it smashed against the craggy rocks and sunk until only a small chunk remained visible. Duke had gone as white as a sheet, his eyes far away from the scene of destruction.

They’d had to hoist the red boat out with a crane. By then, the water had begun its natural process, ripping into the boat and rusting anything not waterproofed properly. It happened so fast, aided by the unnatural number of contaminants in the water from the harsh rains. Or maybe they were only seen by Duke, who wasn’t really seeing the red boat at all, but rather something else far, far away and a good fifty years ago. It was placed in the back of the yards, awaiting some unknown order to repair or dispose of it. Duke could only spare sympathy for the poor pleasure craft – the water had done it in.

Water was all too cruel.

The rains left great muddy puddles everywhere; Duke begged off mine duty, desperate to avoid the murky, dirty waters of the mine.

Desperate to avoid the memories.

Duke managed to get his way, taking trains anywhere but the mine. He did the army-camp trains, leaving loaded vans at the entrance to the formerly abandoned slate quarry and picking up empty ones in their place. One time, he was even directed into the slate quarry when the little WD ‘Beetle’ broke down, steaming into a military camp and being oh so thankful for the huge tarps that were strategically hung to keep as much of the camp as possible dry, directing the rain to distant, out of sight drains.

Duke had never been allowed back inside that camp though, not that he wanted to after he spotted an old steam boiler in the corner of his eye and been punched out of his own mind and into memories he was trying to avoid.

Still, the rains continued. The red boat was taken away, and never returned. Scrapped, or so Skarloey said. Peter Sam held out hope for its return, the optimist he was. Duke couldn’t find it in himself to do the same. Not when the red boat had been in such a sorry state, great gashes torn in it by the rocks and creeping rust beginning to form on its interior, now open to the world due to the way it had been tossed around and ripped apart.

Not when it was too similar to before.

The trains ground to a halt, tourists not wanting to venture far from their hotels and the mine not wanting to attempt any major work in the dangerously wet conditions. The entire railway slowed to only its most essential services, and only the fewest engines possible were called upon to handle the work. Duke was one of them, a fact he privately was thankful for – he couldn’t stand being inside the shed for too long, not when it would only ever remind him of those years spent underground, unable to see the outside world, confined to the darkness without even a hope or a prayer of rescue.

Instead, Duke handled the bulk of traffic along the Skarloey Railway’s ‘main line’ while Rusty handled trackwork and Ivo Hugh the few trains needed at the mine – mostly made of equipment runs and hauling away what amount of the rock had been dug out. It was not much, and Ivo Hugh got enough time in between his runs to help Duke out. Sandbags were supplied to the villages in danger of flooding – not that Duke thought they would. Duke knew flooding, and these were not the right conditions.

And Duke was right. The weather cleared up right before the river could burst its banks, leaving the valley to breathe a collective sigh of relief even as Duke kept his eyes determinedly on the way forwards.

The intervention of the rain had distracted Duke from the time of year, and by the time he remembered, it was already too late.

Duke started seeing him everywhere, in flashes of red that ensnared Duke’s attention and drew him in like a moth to the flame. Duke hated it. Duke hated the rain. Duke hated water. Duke hated knowing the truth and never being able to repeat it. Duke felt his boiler tighten with stress, the steel contracting even as his fire tried vainly to warm him through.

It was a losing battle.

And then finally, Duke simmered over. It was that day, after all. It was fifty years exactly. Duke said nothing as the day progressed, leaving the other engines worried for his health. And then he volunteered to pull the last freight of the day; a line of empty trucks for the mine. The others all were stunned. They couldn’t even find a way to voice their shock – or perhaps that was Duke being unable to hear them. He couldn’t hear anything over the scream that had rattled in his smokebox for fifty years, anything over the words that had haunted him since they’d been uttered.

The trip up was quiet. The afternoon was cooling into night, and the trees had only just finished having all their leaves turn brown and red. Within the week, they’d be barren – but for now it was a festival of colour that broke up the traditionally green landscape. The river babbled along by the line on one side while a few cars rumbled by on the other, racing to get home for the end of the day. Only Duke seemed to know what day it was. Only Duke seemed to care what day it was.

Then again, only Duke knew what happened. Only Duke every truly saw it.

Duke slowed to a stop at the mine, shunting away the trucks. Dirty pools of water littered the lineside, him reflected in each. Of course he was – dirty water was what took him in the end. Duke waited until his driver had gone inside to log their arrival before creeping forwards to the beginning of the mine itself.

There were two entrances to this mine: one was a large vertical shaft with elevator that hurtled down deep into the earth, while the other was a long, twisting tunnel dating back centuries. The tunnel was just slightly too small to fit Duke, but the perfect size to push long lines of trucks in. Once upon a time, horses would have hauled the trucks from deep in the mines, but now a conveyer belt ferried everything up to the surface elsewhere.

Duke gazed down the tunnel, and sighed. Fifty years truly did go by fast, and it was everything he could do not to cry.

“I’m… sorry. Stanley.”

***

Once upon a time, there was a little engine named after His Grace, the Duke of Sodor. The little engine worked hard, and kept his little railway in order – but it was clear to all he needed help.

The engine they brought was named Stanley, not that many used his name. To the manager and his crew, he was simply “Number Two”, a rough-riding scoundrel of an engine who never really did anything but derail. Stanley and Duke knew better – they knew something had gone wrong when Stanley had been regauged to work on the little line.

Despite their worries and pleas, nothing was done and Stanley’s condition deteriorated. Crashes and derailments became more common, and Stanley lashed out at Duke in frustration. He hadn’t meant to – goodness, even Duke knew that! But the manager didn’t, and he didn’t care. To him, Stanley had simply been a nuisance who needed to be dealt with. And when Duke tried to keep them from selling Stanley off, they got creative.

Stanley was locked away behind the shed as a pumping engine, Duke spent a year without a new coat of paint – and then the old engine had a pair of new younglings dumped on him. They were so young, and so eager, and so good, but Duke feared for them. He feared what would happen if they too acted like Stanley or even showed a hint of being incapable.

So he went to Stanley, and the pair made up their story.

It worked – Stuart and Falcon behaved impeccably, and all was peaceful on the little railway. Duke and Stanley breathed a sigh of relief, and life settled into place. Sometimes, when the young engines slept, Duke would creep around the back to spend time chatting with his less fortunate friend. He did his best to hide these visits, both Duke and Stanley afraid of what wrath the manager would bring on them if he discovered that they were fraternising.

And for a time, all seemed well. But fate is not that kind.

The pair were discovered one evening during the war, when the manager came out late one evening to warn them of the increasing workload. His punishment was swift and harsh – he made Duke unearth Stanley in the middle of the night and cart him down the line to the biggest mine on the little railway, where they needed a new pumping engine to look after the water in the deepest parts of the mine.

Duke was forced to watch as Stanley was lowered down, down, deep into the mine where he would be run forever more.

Time continued on. The new pumping engine helped the mine reach a new vein deep underground – however to do so they had to constantly pump away a ruptured spring which gushed water constantly. The river the railway ran alongside grew weaker above where the mine’s outflow pipe dumped gallons of water into its rapids; Duke feared that the spring the miners had hit was really the source of the river, though he was unable to voice his concerns.

Duke would never forget his friend, buried alive in the deepest depths of the mine and unable to call for help. The manager made sure of it too – he put Duke on all the trains heading up to the mine, no matter how busy his schedule was. Duke took it all on without complaint – he could see the direction the wind was blowing. When His Grace returned from the war, Duke would plead his case, try and rescue Stanley and the two young engines he’d come to see as his own and make a run for it – maybe get His Grace to transfer them as far from the little railway and its sadistic manager as possible.

Life was not fair though.

It was a cold morning when Duke arrived to chaos.

“There’s something wrong with the pumping engine!” bellowed a miner, sprinting across the yard. “It’s gonna blow!” Then came the scream. It was guttural, full of agony and completely unlike anything Duke had ever been forced to hear before. It echoed through the mine, stunning the men into silence. A thick cloud of smoke belched out of the tunnels all at once, followed by miners running for their lives while hacking and coughing.

The smoke was blown away by the wind, and Duke peered into the mine. He wanted to venture in, to try and find his friend and save him from what he knew to be coming next.

The water that Stanley had been dutifully pumping flooded the mine in a great gushing wave. It’s force caused the entire yard to tremble, and Duke was forced away from the entrance to the mine in fear of it all collapsing. Duke watched on in horror as the mine flooded right the way to the top, the second pumping machine breaking under the strain. Dirty, sludge-filled water began to trickle out of the mine’s entrances, revealing tools, equipment… and one dirty, grime-ridden nameplate.

Stanley’s nameplate.

Duke felt a sob break free. He couldn’t let his youngsters see this. He couldn’t let them see the damage, see what had become of Stanley.

But worse was to come.

Two weeks later, the water level dropped, the spring flushing back out into the river and draining out of the mine. Duke brought a flatbed up, confused.

“Sir? What’s this for?” he asked the manager carefully. The manager didn’t answer. Instead, he simply nodded to several miners. A large crane winch was lowered into the mine, and attached to something.

The crane heaved with all its might, and the something was lifted up into the dusk light. It was what remained of Stanley. His dusty red paint had been washed clean by the surging water – but that same water had also rusted poor Stanley right through. And then Duke saw it. Stanley’s firebox had been blown clean off when he’d broken down, pipes mangled and sticking up at jarring angles. Poor Stanley’s boiler had exploded from the pressure, the dome flying off and his firebox blowing out. He’d been in agony, and then the water had come rushing in.

The water had drowned him slowly, then rusted away at what had been left.

Duke was forced to drag Stanley’s remains to a scrap merchant’s barge at the harbour; thankfully neither Stuart nor Falcon saw him. He wouldn’t have been able to survive them seeing his face twisted in pure sorrow, sobbing as he brought Stanley’s remains to the harbour and watched as they were taken away.

Duke was never quite the same since. He’d been even more protective of those he had left, running himself into the ground for Stuart and Falcon. He’d watched them get sold off, then watched as the world was reduced to a small shed and nothing more.

Stanley never got the recognition he deserved, the manager saw to that. He embellished the story Duke had told Stuart and Falcon and ensured the Reverend heard it. Stanley’s name was forever tarnished, and Duke was left with the guilt.

Duke wasn’t sure if he would ever stop seeing Stanley’s twisted remains and haunted expression gazing up at him from in the water.

Back to the Master Post

[elsanna-shenanigans]

October Fanfiction Contest

Sorry for the long wait - after roughly 5 years of running the show tirelessly, we really needed a break. And a note to all still wondering if you should join our discord server: the prompt has been known on the server for a while, but the time-frame for submissions is the same. Consider joining, if only for earlier updates like this!

prompt: Water.  word limit: min. 450 and max. 4,500 words (+ bonus below) lemon: up to M rating obligatory: no depictions of drowning (explained below) bonus: story exactly 3,000 words long, physical descriptions of characters (explained below) deadline: October 30th

Please also tag your story (if it has any of it) for: angst, tragedy, major character death, violence or abuse, suicide and self-harm mentions, horror elements or anything not mentioned here that you think might make your readers uncomfortable. Non-/dub-con is NOT ALLOWED, unless it is an important part of the story and not described in detail/used as cheap thrills/glorified. Be mindful and respectful.

Restrictions and Bonuses Click here for more detailed answers to user submitted questions. It will be updated if any more questions roll in, so keep it bookmarked!

OBLIGATORY restriction: we know what you thought of when you saw the graphic. For this month, your submissions cannot depict anyone drowning/almost drowning. If it’s absolutely necessary, the fact��that someone drowned/had a near drowning experience can be mentioned in the passing, but we as the audience cannot be treated to actual description of the act. Obligatory restriction means if your story has someone drowning it will be disqualified.

DISQUALIFICATION means your story will still be posted (unless it breaks our general contest rules) but will not be eligible to go into voting and win.

Bonus 1: 3,000. Write your story up to a perfectly round 3,000 words. For clarity and fairness’ sake, please use the free Google Docs to count the words. If for any reason you are unable or unwilling to use Google Docs, but want to make sure your story is of the precise length required for the bonus, message the Mods (here or on Discord) for help.

Bonus 2: But what do they look like though? Include at least five physical descriptors for Elsa and/or five physical descriptors for Anna. These descriptors are counted per paragraph, i.e. if there are two or more descriptors in one paragraph they will be counted as one (this is to avoid a situation where you just drop them all in one sentence.) This bonus is worth up to 2 points, depending on whether you do five descriptors for one or both of the girls. Make sure to read the FAQ for more info.

These are not obligatory restrictions, however following them will be rewarded with an additional point (or two) in the favorites column for each bonus. In other words, stories that don’t include any of the restrictions will start off with 0 base favorite votes, those that do - with 1, 2 or 3.

Please write down where and how you used the bonuses at the beginning of the submission to make sure the mods can verify your points (the note will be removed before posting.) If you’re not sure if your story meets the requirements for the bonuses, you are free to contact us to check.

Read the contest rules before participating. We’ll be accepting submissions through the submit button on our blog starting today till Midnight (on Baker Island, GMT-12) of October 30th. Please remember to submit anonymously to make sure the voting is impartial!

If you have any questions, read the month’s FAQ, send us an ask or join us on discord.

Happy writing!

[emseebeans]

Wash Them Away

Prompt: Water from @roosmavprompts Rating: T Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship

Read on ao3 here or keep reading below!

Bradley’s so lost in his own thoughts as he watches the water pour down at his bare feet that he almost misses the sound of the shower curtain opening. Maverick’s on the other side, fully undressed. He takes one look at Bradley, and then steps into the shower, closing the curtain behind him.

Pushing aside the wet hair that’s flopped over his forehead, Bradley gives Maverick a wary look. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re avoiding me.”

“No, I’m not,” Bradley lies.

Their shower isn’t really big enough for two grown men, but it hasn’t stopped them from sharing before. He shifts so that some of the spray can reach Maverick, too.

“Yes, you are. Ever since we got back from dinner with Joe last night.”

He’s not wrong. Bradley doesn’t say anything.

Maverick reaches around him to the shower shelf, taking Bradley’s shampoo. He squirts a small amount into his hand, and gestures for Bradley to dip his head. When he does, Maverick’s hands slide into his hair. The pressure from the fingers massaging into his scalp and the minty scent of eucalyptus filling the air persuade the tension from his shoulders to melt away.

“What’s wrong?” Maverick asks.

“I just…” He thinks about their dinner conversation the previous night - the first time as a couple they’d really gone out with someone outside of the squad - sitting at the table listening to Maverick swap stories and reminisce with someone else. “He knows you really well.”

Maverick’s hands pause for the briefest of moments before he keeps going.

“Joe? Well, yeah. We’ve known each other for a long time.”

Soapy bubbles slide down his forehead and Bradley’s shuts his eyes reflexively.

“He knows all this stuff about you - all these stories,” Bradley mumbles.

“You feeling jealous?” The question doesn’t have an ounce of judgement, only curiosity and concern, and Bradley loves Maverick a little more for it.

“Not jealous exactly.”

“Tip your head back,” Maverick instructs.

Bradley does as he’s told, bringing his own hands up to run them through his hair as the shampoo rinses out. When he’s confident it’s all gone, he opens his eyes, blinking away the water drops.

Maverick is holding his leave-in conditioner - the kind Bradley uses when he wants to treat himself. He obediently tips his head forward again so Maverick can work the conditioner into the tops of his curls.

"It’s just…I should know those things about you, too.”

“What do you mean?” Maverick’s hands slip out from his hair, moving to his shoulders to pull Bradley out of the spray so the conditioner can sit.

Shuffling them around, Bradley settles Maverick in front of the water. He opens Maverick’s two-in-one shampoo and conditioner. Ever since they moved in together, he’s lost count of the number of times he’s tried and failed to convince Maverick to use something a little nicer.

Bradley gives him the same treatment, working the shampoo through his dark strands. Maverick’s let his hair grow out over the last few months, and Bradley’s a little more than obsessed.

“There’s so much I missed,” Bradley says. “So much I don’t know about your life now because I shut you—”

“Hey,” Maverick cuts in. He pushes his soapy hair away from his face and cups Bradley’s cheek with his hand. “We agreed, remember? What’s past is past.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Besides,” Maverick tips his head back to rinse his hair. “You know the most important parts.” When the shampoo is gone he looks at Bradley and smiles. “We have plenty of time to catch up on the rest.”

He steps back and pulls Bradley back under the spray to rinse the conditioner from his hair.

“So give yourself a break for what happened, yeah?”

Bradley nods, ducking his head as Maverick’s fingers scrub through his curls.

“There,” Maverick says once the conditioner is rinsed out. “You’re all clean now.”

Before he can move away, Bradley reaches forward, tugging his arms around Maverick’s waist to pull him into a hug. Their bare skin slides against each other under the spray, a comfortable feeling that’s become so familiar. Bradley tucks his face into the crook of Maverick’s neck.

“I love you, you know,” he says into Maverick’s skin.

Arms wrap around his back, and Maverick gives him a squeeze. “I know. I love you, too. Always."

Those words never fail to bring a smile to Bradley's face. How lucky he is, after all that’s happened, to be loved by Maverick, and to have him here. To hold him like this, as the hot spray of the shower turns lukewarm, and the water runs in rivulets down their bodies, washing away any bad feeling as it swirls down the drain.

[altered60]

Prompt: water by @roosmavprompts

Title: walk on water

Author: altered60

Rating: E

Tags: Alternate universe, 5+1, feelings realisation, pining, fluff and smut, Bradley wants so bad, idiots in love, oblivious Bradley, explicit sexual content, Bottom Maverick, Top Bradley, Not Unrequited Love, first time, time skips

Summary:

There was a common factor when it came to Bradley’s love for Maverick, and he couldn’t quite work out what it was. All he knew - he was in deep and saying something was about as easy as escaping from enemy territory.

Or the five times water led Bradley to trouble with Maverick, and the one time Maverick was pulled under by Bradley instead.

~*~*~

Click here if you want to read!

[whitherwanderyouspirit]

Summary: It wasn’t often as an adult that Barbara took the opportunity to participate in silly, potentially hazardous games, but the chance to drag her normally composed boyfriend into this one is too hard to resist.

Barbara, Walter, and the ups and downs of challenging teenagers to pool games.

[roosmavprompts]

Roosmav Prompt #6 Roundup: Water

This round we had three awesome fills!

Wash them away by @emseebeans Fic, Rated: T, Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship

walk on water by @altered60 Fic, Rated: E, Tags: Alternate universe, 5+1, feelings realisation, pining, fluff and smut, Bradley wants so bad, idiots in love, oblivious Bradley, explicit sexual content, Bottom Maverick, Top Bradley, Not Unrequited Love, first time, time skips

water by @baysilmav Art, Rated: N/A, Tags: N/A

Thank you everyone for your wonderful contributions! If you enjoyed these fills as much as we did, make sure to show them some love! This week's prompt will be a little delayed, but should be up some time over the weekend. Watch this space!

[chronicsymptomsyndrome]

yay water

time to drink water woo hoo yay

[stealingyourbones]

I need Danny to say the most terrifying sentences casually near other heroes.

After a battle Phantom is looking at his uniform and his hands. “I think my skin is moving.”

The Flash whips his head around to look at Phantom, “I’m sorry what?”

Phantom is already nonchalantly floating away to go help civilians.

[demaparbat-hp]

For you were lonely, you were like me

Like some outside force had sent me

If I was easy to kill, you would have done it already

—Hunter by Paris Paloma

Blood version under the cut!

[thebibliosphere]

I feel like I've complained about Tim's email situation in Gotham Knights before (edit: I have), but the truth of it is just so funny.

He's signed up for so many podcasts, video game streamers, and random news alerts; it's just a constant barrage of data going straight into his constantly whirring brain. Hell, he even floats the idea of the Batfamily having their own podcast as a way to correct misinformation about them (which Jason shoots down instantly), and it's made me realize something.

Timothy Drake would be a YouTuber.

In this universe specifically, Timothy Jackson Drake, the heir to Drake Industries and the foster son of the late Bruce Wayne would be a YouTuber.

Think about it. It'd be the perfect cover. Who would ever suspect that some 16-year-old nepo baby with a YouTube channel could ever be Red Robin? You'd have to be mad. I mean, look at him.

Red Robin just dropped out of literal thin air and garotted someone four times his size, and you expect anyone to believe that's the same kid who does 24-hour Minecraft charity streams and occasionally drops 6-hour video essays (his last one was on Lex Luthor's illegal bit mining operation on the moon)?

That kid?

You think that kid is Red Robin?

Ch'yah, okay, sure. And the Joker is funny 🤡.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

October-November 2023 voting results + author links

After waiting for authors to claim on the discord server (and this month we can proudly present a fully-claimed list), we’ve compiled the results and are ready to share them with you.

A quick reminder list (with authors already included):

Pull of the Tide - JPeterson (AO3, FFN)

Water the soil - FishyCoffee (AO3, FFN, tumblr)

The Best of Luck Club - sappho-anaktoria  (AO3, FFN, Tumblr)

part of your world - SillyLilly (AO3, Tumblr)

There’s Water in Hell - shealwaysdies (AO3, FFN, Tumblr)

A World So Small - MntDewCodRed (AO3)

Golden Hour - djupcake (AO3, FFN, tumblr)

Old Rivalry - Jaslyn (AO3, FFN)

Three Things You Can Feel - gschelt (AO3)

The Queen’s Voyage - FrostfallSnowdrop (AO3)

Mid 20s Skateboarder - sappho-anaktoria  (AO3, FFN, Tumblr)

Fenced In With You - ElsAnnaSummers (AO3, FFN, Tumblr)

And the winning story is…

Three Things You Can Feel! Big congrats to the winner and a huge thank you to everyone who submitted this month.

Please reblog this post when you see it to make sure it reaches fans that don’t follow our blog yet - due to tumblr’s linking policy, it’s almost sure not to show up in the tag! Let’s all make sure the Authors receive proper credit for their hard work :)

Visit us on discord if you have any questions, or want to discuss the stories/participate in our detailed review/feedback club for the submissions!

[evilminji]

O.O!!! :Dc wait a second.... Aquaman >.>

Good JOB Brain! That IS a good idea!

Don't know if YOU GUYS all know this? But Arthur? Son of a Lighthouse keeper and the Queen of Atlantis? THAT Arthur Curry aka. Orin? Has CONSIDERABLY enhanced durability. Like... *hit by a car* "ha. Cute." Enhanced.

It's because of the DEEP Sea water pressure he's built for.

I bring this up? Because the man is a legit BAMF. Absolutely TERRIFYING near any body of water. Dude has SUPER STRENGTH AND HYDROKINESIS. Not ONLY are YOU filled with water, but every street corner in the world has pipes! He is NEVER not armed.

That's not including the "yes I can ask a lobster to take your dick off" thing.

But most of all? He has the RAGE. The lifetime of injustice after injustice. His home under attack, his people suffering and regarded as LESS. The poison dumped into their air. Their lands taken, PRESUMED the property of land dwellers.

Treated as criminals and monsters should they DARE defend themselves.

Yet? He is a leader. A husband, father, mentor. The death of his child can not take from him that title. Nor years numb that pain. He strives to be good. Be wise. Live well.

Yet? There is once AGAIN fuckery in his ocean. Some "secret" lab. Poking at a swirling green portal. At the BOTTOM OF THE SEA. For God's sake, they DO REALIZE, you can't HIDE things from him down here, RIGHT?

It looks radioactive.

He refuses to have that so close to Atlantis.

Sends a notice up to the Watchtower, a call back to his Wife, and leads the gaurd team in. Painfully easy, really. Bog standard humans, caught off gaurd. Right until one of them does something... stupid.

He tries to blow the place. Destroy evidence. It would kill all of them. Which is not Arthur's main concern. No, what IS? Is that it would dump radioactive SOMETHING into the waters near Atlantis.

He dives forward. They struggle. A button is smashed and...

Their containment field drops.

They had been keeping it in a perfect vacuum.

Arthur is sucked in.

Watches, in free fall, as his men's faces turn to horror. As they desperately dive to follow him. Loyal. True. But ultimately too late. He curses himself as he loses sit of them. But forces himself to focus, twist, get his feet under him. His is in air, above LAND.

He hits HARD.

But not the ground like he had planned.

He's slamed, at an awkward, frantic, angle and knocked off course. His weight crashing down onto a scrawny slip of a boy, who weezes and struggles to get a proper grip. His arms not quite long enough to go all the way around his barrel of a chest.

He helps, by slinging an arm over his young savior.

Only then, does he notice, the tiny crown of ice and nebula, poking at a jaunty angle from the child's head.

Their landing would be rough, had Arthur not caught them, once he gets close enough to the ground. The young royal gasping for air, having clearly pushed his limits to get to Arthur in time. He hauls himself up. Not yet a man, but not as young as Arthur feared. His eyes glow.

"Hoooly SHIT. Are you okay?! I hit you really hard! I'm so, SO sorry! I panicked! And-"

Honestly? A little bruised. But nothings he's going to ADMIT too.

More concerning? The injuries.

There's a screech of tires turning sharp corners. Sirens getting closer. The young king whips around. Terror seeping onto his face. It gives Arthur an unobstructed view of pointed ears, softly glowing skin with star like freckles, and scars that creep up the child's neck. He does not like the picture being painted.

"We have to GO. Now. Please, I'll explain in a moment! But we have to go NOW!"

Really, REALLY does not like the picture. And he has WAYS of dealing with such things as this. But safety first. Prioritize the children. They go. He vows to get answers. And all around Amity? Certain individuals days are NUMBERED.

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @nerdpoe

[tsuutarr]

Yandere!Incubus x Reader

“Hey, Doll. Why don’t you join me for a bath?” Tynan asks, an easy smirk on his face. He likes watching your reactions, whether you’re teasing him or getting flustered. It’s cute, honestly.

Oh man, Tynan thinks. He’s really down bad. He didn’t really think he’d (1) want you beyond a physical relationship and (2) want to capture you so you’ll be wholly his, forced to rely on him and only him. These thoughts used to baffle him (and maybe they do still baffle him somewhat), but he honestly doesn’t care too much anymore. Still…

Tynan isn’t sure when his breaking point was.

Was it when he was first lured in by your dreams? When he first got a taste of you? When he first decided to stay for a little longer than he usually would?

You appealed to Tynan’s tastes quite a bit, more than any other human had, but that wasn’t his breaking point, was it? Your guardian angel and his obsession with you was intriguing, but that certainly wasn’t Tynan’s breaking point, either. Sure, your guardian angel gave Tynan some source of amusement and it was a surprise that you could even see your own guardian angel, but that wasn’t enough to make Tynan spiral.

His competitiveness with your guardian angel did make Tynan more touchy and affectionate (and wow, did he like touching you), but that wasn’t his breaking point, either.

Tynan seriously can’t wrap his head around it. Sex is casual. Relationships are casual. But here you are, making him want to get consumed by you. Here you are, making him jealous of all things. 

Tynan doesn’t like emotions or attachments – it’s pointless, really – but he wants to overload you with his feelings for you, attaching you to his side forever. He wants to take you back with him to his home so he can lock you up and hide you away from the world forever. If you’re there, he doesn’t need anyone else. He’ll never need anyone else ever again.

“Tynan?” you call, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Do you want me to wash your hair?” 

The question makes him smile. You’re really too cute. It’s to the point that you’re the only thing that matters to him.Yeah, that’s right – it doesn’t matter what his breaking point was. All that matters is that you’ve made him break his long streak of detachment and he’s not planning on ever letting go.

[chxrryhansen]

rafe with a piss kink?!?

i just seen your bucky one😻😻

-💋

god you need to send me asks more often! i love all of the ones you send me🫶🏻 rafe would be soooo mean about it…

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

your sat on rafe’s lap watching a movie together like you usually did on friday nights (since he didn’t approve of you going out without him and you didn’t want to spoil girls night by taking him with you) your back pressed against his bare chest and your legs intertwined as you sat on the couch, him only wearing a pair of boxers and you in your skimpy “pajamas” that he had chosen out for you.

you began to squirm around on his lap, your plump ass pressing into his cock as you clenched your thighs, desperately needing to go pee but not wanting to disturb rafe or miss a good part of the movie.

“quit squirming.” he mumbled, his hands moving to grip your hips, stilling your movement. you knew you shouldn’t have drank all that water earlier, rafe had warned you, you’d be up and down to the bathroom all night but you were so thirsty from your yoga class. so you downed around 3 glasses of water at once.

you whimpered quietly, the pressure on your bladder becoming too heavy for you to withstand. you attempted to get up, thinking if you didn’t mention it he wouldn’t question you. silently you shifted, moving away from his lap in an attempt to stand.

rafe was quick to tighten his grip on your hips, pulling your ass back down against his cock. a thick hand wrapped around, gripping your throat in a strong hold making you moan quietly.

“where do you think you’re going, hm?”

“r-rafe, let me go, i gotta’ go pee.”

“huh…” he sighed in false thought, a wicked smirk appearing on his clean shaven face. “nah i think you can hold it a little longer baby, just be quiet and watch the movie.” he thrusted his hips up gently against your pussy, his cock clearly hard, rubbing up and down your clothed cunt, his tip catching against your clit.

you whimpered yet again, clenching your thighs together quickly as you felt a dribble of liquid drip through your panties, soaking your shorts and leaking onto rafes cock. sighing at the slight relief you felt, praying he hadn’t noticed, your cheeks flustered due to your embarrassment. however you weren’t as lucky as you had hoped, nothing got past rafe. you should’ve known.

“fuck baby, you pissin’ on me now? filthy fuckin’ slut. do i need to do everything around here? including taking you to the damn bathroom?” he growled from behind you, his chest rumbling, acting as if he was mad. when in reality his cock had never been harder, so ready to burst out of his boxers and fuck you til’ you can’t breathe.

“i’m so sorry daddy, i didn’t mean to. i swear it was an accident.” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks out of pure humiliation. you couldn’t hold back any longer, a steady stream of piss gushing out of your pussy, turning his boxers dark as you soaked his lap. crying and moaning at the sensation of finally being able to let go.

rafe groaned at the feeling of your hot piss soaking his cock, dry humping you roughly through your release.

“shh, it’s okay sweetheart, i know baby. your such a nasty little whore, pissing all over me, but its okay. daddy loves filthy girls like you, gettin’ me so hard. fuck.”

rafe pushed you off his lap and onto the floor, your knees hitting the hard surface making you whimper. he watched you with a dark grin as you looked up at him with a confused expression in your puppy dog eyes. “w-what are you doing?” you questioned. closing your eyes as he reached out, stroking the tears away from your cheeks with his thumb, shushing you gently.

suddenly your eyes burst open in shock as you felt a warm liquid begin to hit your chest, looking up to see rafe pointing his cock at your tits and face, his hot piss soaking your body in the most violating way possible. you sobbed as he marked you, confused as to why he was doing this.

“fuck that’s it, take my piss you filthy slut, is that what you are, yeah? you my dirty piss slut? soaking my cock then letting me mark you up. bet you fuckin’ love it. dirty girl, look at you, just writhing in my hot puddle of piss. who knew you were such a whore, baby.”

[roosmavprompts]

Roosmav Prompt #6: Water

This prompt will be open for 2 weeks!

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[puppetmaster13u]

Mermay Special Prompt 3

“Are you kidding? No one goes to Gotham, that place is like,” Aquaman made a motion with his hand, a not-quite grimace on his face. “Like things should not be living in the water, like it should be impossible, and things should be dead, but they aren’t and it’s like, like the equivalent of an undead apocalypse over there!” 

Bruce rolled his eyes behind his cowl, taking a sip of his coffee as the others continued drinking. Socialize, they said, it’ll be fine they said. Well excuse him, but the waters weren’t that bad. Sure there were always dumped bodies, and chemicals from the rogue attacks, but it was far worse at one point.

One thing he’ll always be relieved for is how the… curse (thank you broken statuette back in the beginning of his vigilante career that fused with the other many curses of Gotham) made the people of Gotham actually care about the waters around them. 

Though also, he couldn’t help but thank anything that might be listening for the fact that the curse only interacted with Gotham waters, because losing legs with any risk of a drop of water would be downright annoying. 

“No dude, you don’t understand, no one goes there for a reason! That shit is horrific- someone saw a big thing with bits of rebar stabbed straight through it and still chased after a big alligator-thing!” Oh. Oh that had been him. Oops. Hopefully his kids didn’t find out about this, but they were probably already on the cameras. Dammnit.