#sand is a little dense though so i get it

[gunsatthaphan]

"time to leave."

[themidnightcrimson]

the scarlet siren ࿏ wm

summary: in which you take a trip out to sea that you will regret.

words: 6.0k

warnings: siren!wanda, dubcon/noncon, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), size kink, biting, a lot of blood, violence, fear, suspense, drowning, deep water, mentions of death, i wrote this in an irish accent for some reason, did you know i have thalassophobia?

this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

Fishing was competitive these days. It was a bad winter and an even worse famine, and with beef and poultry no longer in the shops, the villagers were forced to turn to the shore to fish.

Your little village was nestled on a plateau of land that stuck out into the cold sea. The shore was lined with big, black rocks that had tumbled down from the looming hills over time and landed at the water’s edge with only a thin strip of grainy brown sand between them and the water. Travelling down to the shore over all those rocks was already hard enough, but it was even harder when you had to carry your boat on your back.

People had tried to carve trails through all the rock to make the beaches more accessible, but with all the storms that the area faced, the rocks just got tussled back around and demolished any trails attempted.

In fact, it had just stormed the night before. It pissed rain and spit wind so hard that people woke up to holes in their roofs. Naturally, the beach was all torn up from it, but it would always clean itself up and go back to the way it was at some point before another storm came along. And while most people were at their cottages fixing the storm’s damage, you saw this early dawn as a prime opportunity to fish.

Fish had also been scarce recently because of all the people turning to the water for food sources, but you knew that the previous night’s storm had tussled the waters, which meant the fish were probably scurrying all around. The sun hadn’t even risen yet as you dragged your wooden boat down the rocks in the dim dawn hue, the wood scraping loudly against the rock’s hard and bumpy surface.

Managing to get down the rocks without twisting your ankle, you finally plopped down into the pebbly sand with a huff of breath, pushing your boat off your back. This was only half of your journey, though, because you weren’t even going to fish here on the beach like most people did.

Adjusting the leather strap around your neck that was holding your oars to your back, you dragged your boat through the damp sand to the rickety wooden dock that stood beside the lighthouse. The lighthouse was even more rickety, since no one bothered to upkeep it since this beach was the worst beach for ships to come in at. They almost always hit the rocks because of how deep the water dropped off from the shore and how thin the strip of sand was.

You pulled your boat to the very end of the dock and then threw the oars down in it, and then your bag of fishing gear, along with your pole. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself as you began pushing the single person-sized boat into the water. When it finally was fully in the water, you quickly jumped into it, causing a splash and a stressful cracking sound as you struggled for a moment to catch your balance. Finally, you sat down in the boat and let it settle before getting your oars and rowing yourself towards your destination.

There was a little cove area almost like an island to the east of the plateau of land. It was your favorite spot to fish because hardly anyone knew about it. It was barely visible from the shore even during a normal day, but it was completely out of sight on this extremely foggy, dark morning. The fog became more and more dense the further you rowed out into the water, until finally you were completely blinded.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured, reaching into your bag for your compass. The fog had completely surrounded you now to the point where you couldn’t even see the front bow of your boat. It was getting colder further into sea, too. Though the air above was tolerable, you couldn’t imagine how cold the water below felt.

The salty, wet air clogged your nose as you finally felt the cold round of metal in your hand, bringing your compass out of your bag. Sniffling from the cold air, you tried to adjust and read your compass when you suddenly heard something behind you—a voice.

Gasping, you whipped around to look behind you but only saw the thick white of fog. The voice had been shrill and steady, calling out some sort of smooth singsong noise that echoed over the water.

And then you heard it again, clear as day, right in front of you.

Snapping back around, you still could see nothing but the fog, yet the voice was still echoing all around you. It was a single note drawn out, not quite a shout or a scream, just an eerie note drawn out through the fog. Chills overcame you, but not from the cold.

Setting your compass down on the boat’s bottom, you grabbed your oars and began to quickly row towards the east. The fog seemed to be squeezing in on you now, some of it even spilling over the edge of the boat like thick smoke. Your heart was pounding—you couldn’t see where you were going, and you could still hear the voice in the back of your head. You wanted to get to the cove fast.

Suddenly, the wooden oar in your left hand stopped against something. You paused and looked over—you weren’t even able to see the paddle of the oar, only the handle you held. You tried to move the oar, but it wouldn’t budge. What could it be stuck on? Even though you couldn’t see, you knew you weren’t at the cove by now, and you were still heading east so you hadn’t drifted back to the plateau. These waters were so deep, there certainly was nothing your oar could be stuck in.

It was when something tugged your oar right out of your hand that you shrieked and jumped so hard that the boat rocked, icy water splashing onto your legs. With your left oar gone, you quickly used your right oar to haphazardly row forward, having to switch it over to the left side to keep going straight, more of the cold water splattering over you. Though you were crippled now with only one oar, you were so afraid that you rowed even faster than you normally would with two oars.

Though your arms ached, you kept rowing as fast as you could until finally the fog started to thin out. You were starting to break out of whatever thick cloud of sea fog you had been stuck in. It felt like you could breathe again when finally you pushed forward completely out of the fog, letting your tired arms go limp as you looked behind you at the cloud of fog. You searched for the silhouette of another boat but saw nothing. What the hell had grabbed your oar?

Turning back around and taking a deep breath, you swiped your forehead with the back of your wrist—now your body was so hot it was steaming in the cold air. Looking ahead, you could finally see the cove just a little ways away.

Glancing to either side of you, you saw nothing but black water. These waters were always dark, mostly because of the black rock and black mud, but it was completely opaque now. All you could see was reflections of the dim grey sky above you and your own face distorted in the lapping water. You wondered what was below it—something that now had your oar, certainly. Shaking your head to rid yourself of the paranoid thoughts, you rowed on to the cove.

The cove was a U-shaped island that looked like a fragmented piece of the plateau your village was on—all black, rocky shores with limited sand, a cluster of dark, woody trees behind it that shielded it from the nothingness of the sea. The shape of the U was wide enough that the cove water leading up to the center of land was deep enough for fish to live. It was the perfect fishing spot, especially the further one went into the cove so that the island’s rocks and trees surrounded them.

Finally, you got to your favorite spot tucked further into the U shape where you were surrounded by the island, and you rowed your boat carefully until it was finally still. You glanced around the island—it was a little spooky in the foggy, dark morning. The trees were blackened, fog stuck all in them. The big rocks were an even darker black from the wet morning, and where there was usually a strip of sand, there was only a bunch of pebbles and rocks that must have been pushed onto shore from the storm. Sometimes, you would sit on the sand and enjoy the quiet alone, but you couldn’t imagine sitting on all those rocky pebbles.

You set up your fishing pole and cast it into the black water, setting the pole against the side of the boat while you opened your fishnet and made it ready for fish. You had even brought a little breakfast along—a pathetic piece of bread with a slice of cheese. Holding the end of your pole between your feet, you relaxed against the boat and ate your bread and cheese.

It took a minute before you got your first bite, bringing up a thick, silvery fish out of the water and tossing it into your net before recasting your pole. You were able to get three fish before suddenly they just stopped biting.

“For fucks’ sake,” you cursed like a sailor, bringing up your pole out of the water to see that something had taken the worm off the hook, even though you didn’t feel a fish bite. “Greedy fuckers. I’m tryin’ to eat, too.” You took another worm from your bowl of bait and stuck it onto the hook.

And then you heard it again.

It was the same shrill voice, but this time, it sounded like an eerie, angelic song. You froze. The voice lilted, echoing through the trees of the cove. This time, it wasn’t just a single note—it was words you could barely make out, but they were there.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya..

Your breath hitched in your throat. You lifted your head, eyes wide, and slowly looked around, seeing nothing but the black faces of the rocks and trees looking back at you.

Ya smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

The voice was beautiful, etching out every syllable of the foreign language like poetry. It echoed over the waters in a whisper, filling your ears like honey. You held your breath. You wanted to ask who was there, who was singing, but there was a buzzing sensation through your body like fear, but something different. It was like the voice was reaching through your ears and into your brain, its angelic fingers scratching and poking and twisting your brain around until you were in a dumb daze.

It was when you noticed something in the corner of your eye that your fear came through more prominently. The water, black and opaque, to the side of your boat was rippling with motion. It wasn’t the bubbles of a fish. It wasn’t movement from your still boat. The water rippled from one end of your boat to the other, pausing between ripples like something was swimming right there. But you couldn’t see anything.

Your lungs ached as your breathing picked up, yet you stayed completely still. You watched the water ripple around the bow of your boat, and down the other side. It was circling you, and it was entirely too large to be a fish.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

The voice came again, filtering through the cove’s forest, over the rocks, right into your ears. You don’t know why, but you found yourself slowly leaning over the boat’s edge, peering into the black water that rippled as something swam below it. Your vision became hazy. Your skin felt numb all over. Your heart pounded dangerously fast.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

You barely processed the sound of something brushing the side of your boat before you felt the hard vibration of something hitting the underside of your boat, something big enough to rock it.

“Woah!” you cried out, grabbing the sides of the rocking boat. You tried to get to your feet, but something hit the underside of your boat again, and it tipped over.

You had never felt such cold. The splash of your body hitting the water, and then the water flooding your ears, deafened you like the sound of glass shattering from inside your head. It struck your entire body like lighting—pure, icy shock and arctic pain. It almost felt like your bones cracked upon impact like a frozen branch falling off a cliff.

You couldn’t move as your body sank under the freezing black water. You opened your eyes, felt the cold freeze over your eyeballs. You saw nothing at first and wondered if you were dead, or even worse, struck blind from the freezing water. When you could finally see dim light filtering through the water, as much light as the cloudy early morning could give, you realized you weren’t blind. But the water was so cold, too cold to move. You tried to move your arms and legs, but you felt stiffened, shot with pain.

As you stared into the sea of black and tried to clench your frozen muscles, you saw a shadow forming in the water beyond. You could do nothing but watch with fear as the shadow formed into an unrecognizable silhouette.

Quickly, you glanced up and could see the shadow of your boat flipped upside down on the water’s surface above you. You didn’t realize how deep down you were. Even if your body was working again, it would take a minute for you to reach your boat.

You looked back in front of you. The shadow was closer now. You attempted to flail your arms and were able to move them a little. You screamed through your closed mouth, your lungs burning for air.

The shadow came into the glare of light in the water, and your scream intensified.

It was a woman, or something like it. A woman’s head, and neck, and chest, and torso, and waist, but right where her hips stopped, something else started. Where her thighs would have been separated and covered with skin, they were welded together and covered with scales. It was some sort of a fish tail attached to where the lower half of her body should’ve been. Instead of skin and legs, she was dark red and black scales on a long tail with a finned end that gently undulated in the water to keep her floating. Her tail almost sparkled in the light. It was so dark, but you could see hints of a deep ruby color between the dark scales. Her chest was bare along with the rest of her upper body. Her hair, a dark brown with reddish tint, bowed above her head in the shape of an obsidian flame. Her arms floated beside her elegantly, and you noticed her fingertips were black.

Then there were her eyes. A deep red like the color of her tail. Too much white between the bottom curve of her pupils and her lower lashes. Darkened around the lids with some sort of black paint. Even in the darkness of the water, the red of her irises caught you. Even in the fear, there was beauty. She was haunting, and her eyes stared you down like you were her food.

A mermaid, you thought. You’d only ever heard of them when the sailors of your town made it back from faraway fishing trips. Everyone had chocked the stories up to oceanic hallucination, but now here you were, face to face with one.

And then she smiled. And her teeth were ivory white, and in the middle of where there were some human teeth, there was rows of sharp fangs like blades. Her smile was uncanny, unsettling, evil.

And then you realized she wasn’t a mermaid.

Another choked, muffled scream bellowed out from your burning chest when she darted forward. You could feel the vibrations in the water when she swished her tail in a boast of strength, her hair darting behind her as she surged forward through the water with ease. Her eyes seemed to darken.

Screaming as much as you could underwater, you suddenly found that your muscles had defrosted with your fear. You swam upwards, kicking and thrashing as much as you could, your body fatigued from the cold and the lack of oxygen. Your muscles burned and quivered as you overworked them, your lungs aching, your throat burning, vision growing dark until finally you burst above the surface, gulping down a large breath of air and several more after that.

You didn’t have much time to breathe because you became aware that the siren was still below you. Looking around, you saw that your boat had floated too far away, and the nearest place you could go was the shoreline several yards away.

Before you could make a break for the shore, you noticed how quiet everything was. The siren could have easily grabbed you by now. You tried to look into the water that splashed up on your chin, but it was still black. A soft mist came down from the bleary sky, further wetting your head.

What if she was right below your feet where they kicked obscurely in the water? What if she grabbed you and dragged you down? Just the mere thought made you start to slowly float your way towards the shore. Maybe the siren was just like a shark, and it was only sudden movement that made her attack.

You kept slowly swimming backwards, craning your head all around to get a comprehensive view of the water’s surface around you. There was nothing. No swishing of water at your feet. No ripples on the surface except the ones you caused. Not even any bubbles.

Was she gone? Had she decided you weren’t worth the trouble? Or were you just hallucinating? Maybe this was the oceanic hallucinations everyone said sailors had. Maybe all that fog had made you paranoid.

Your body was rocking with how icy the water was, though you just felt numb now. You looked behind you at the island, wondering if you could seek shelter in the trees until someone came looking for you, or maybe you could make some sort of flotation device out of something. That was silly. Your best bet would be to go back to your boat and hand-paddle your way back home.

As you turned your head back around towards the direction of your boat, you gasped and froze.

There the siren was. Only the upper half of her head was above the water. You saw her hair, much more reddish now in the light, slick to her head. Her forehead, speckled with droplets of water. Her red eyes that seemed to reflect a glare of red on the surface of the water in front of her. Beyond that, only the bridge of her nose, the end of it under the surface. She was completely still, as if she was standing on flat ground. She was only maybe two feet away from you.

“P-p-p-p,” you tried to speak, but your body was convulsing from the cold, your lips numb and blue. “Please,” you whispered in a croak. It was getting hard to breathe as the harsh cold invaded your blood. You were begging for your life because, in the haze of your hypothermia, you recognized those eyes.

You’d heard stories from the village sailors about a particular siren. You’d seen her image sketched in books. Always those red eyes, that red tail. This wasn’t a mermaid, and she wasn’t just a siren. She was the deadliest ocean creature that all the myths and legends described. She’d instilled fear in children of your parent’s and even your grandparent’s generations just through stories of her malice. She commanded every corner of the seas, and sailors who were superstitious enough always kept an eye out for her during their voyages, lest she take them down.

She wasn’t a mermaid. She wasn’t just a siren.

She was the Scarlet Siren.

Somehow, she knew you recognized her. Maybe it was the look on your face, or the way you froze. She stretched her lips open in a charming yet malicious smile. And then slowly, inch by inch, she slipped under the water.

Letting out a choked scream, you quickly turned back towards the shore and started to swim. Your heart felt like it was going to rip right out of your chest if the Scarlet Siren didn’t do it first.

When you were halfway towards the shore, thrashing the water and letting out choked breaths, you suddenly felt hands grab your ankles and yank you beneath the surface.

You thrashed under the water, your long hair coming undone and floating around your face as you watched the Scarlet Siren come closer to you. You kicked at her so hard that your shoes came off your feet, your foot hitting her tail and feeling the fishy scales there.

The Siren’s hands were climbing up your body, grabbing at your coat and pulling it off as you spiraled in the water, trying to get out of her hold. Finally, you were able to kick her tail hard enough that the force sent you popping above the surface like a fish. You were able to take one gasp of air before she pulled you right back down again.

This time, the Siren growled and nosedived towards your waist, her teeth clamping down on the fabric of your shirt. You squealed as she ripped your shirt off with her teeth, the fabric so easily tearing. The blades of her teeth had caught the skin of your belly, four long scratches bleeding through your pale skin, the blood clouding in the water. The Siren paused at the sight of your blood diffusing in the water, distracted enough for you to kick her in the face so hard that she turned downwards in the water.

You took your chance to swim, popping up through the surface and pushing yourself harder than ever. The shore was right in front of you. Your body ached and the skin of your stomach stung, but you kept going until finally your fingers touched black rock.

Coughing up water, you lifted your body onto the pebbly surface, the blood from the scratches finally able to drip down your skin, the red following the lines of water on your waist. You flopped onto your back and pulled yourself more onto the shore.

You knew it wasn’t over. The Siren’s head popped out of the water, and her hands grabbed your ankles again. You cried out and tried to kick, but she held your legs down as she lifted herself completely out of the water.

You watched the Scarlet Siren crawl over you, her strong arms planting down in the rocks on either side of your head, entrapping you. The shockingly heavy weight of her tail crushed your legs down on the rock, the smell of ocean filling your nostrils. It felt like the end of your life. You thought to yourself, as the Siren laid herself over you, that this was what rabbits felt like with dogs. This is what lambs felt like with lions. Birds with cats. Fish with fishermen. Sailors with sirens.

“Now, what’s a pretty girl like yourself doing all alone out on these waters, hmm?” Her voice was shockingly heavenly, smooth like butter and sweet like a bird’s song. It caught you off guard and somehow made you more afraid. There was also some sort of foreign accent laced in her words, somewhat Slavic. How could a monster like herself look so beautiful and sound so sweet?

You could only make incoherent noises as you watched the Siren’s tail start to morph. It ripped itself apart, and the scales sunk inwards, and the flesh shaped itself into the shape of a human woman’s legs, and pale skin etched itself over them. She was now the sight of a fully human woman, naked and lain over you, except for her razor teeth and red demonic eyes and murderous intent.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked more seriously, her eyes flickering over you. Her underwater tactics left you in only a brassiere and fisherman pants.

You were shaking from the cold, but her body felt surprisingly warm on yours. Fear had overcome you, leaving you dumb and pathetic.

“Please d-don’t kill me,” you cried, tears rushing down your cheeks.

“You didn’t answer me, detka,” she continued calmly, bringing a hand to your chin and holding it. Her skin felt inhumanly smooth. “Do you know who I am?”

Breathing heavily, you squeezed your eyes shut. “The S-Scarlet Siren.”

The Siren puckered her lips. “What a demeaning term. My scales are more maroon, don’t you think? My name is Wanda.” She paused, pressing the pad of her thumb into the dimple on your chin. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

You didn’t answer. She trailed her hand down your stomach, smearing the blood there before she grabbed hold of your pants. Sitting back on her knees, she started to yank them down. Instinctively, you fought her, trying to kick her away.

“Stop!” you screamed loud enough that a few birds from the forest cawed and fluttered. The Siren pursed her lips and used her strength to pull your pants off, but you flopped onto your stomach like a fish and started frantically crawling away.

“Stop it, human,” she growled, grabbing the back of your thighs and dragging you back down the rocks. Using the opportunity, she ripped the last of your clothing off, your brassiere, and threw it to the side. Grabbing you by your wet hair, she turned you back onto your back and lowered down. You were face-to-face with her now, about to try and push her off until she opened her mouth.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya.

YA smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

It was the song you’d heard earlier, before your boat tipped. But as she sang it this time, that buzzing feeling within you grew stronger. Her honey-like voice lilted in your ears as she sang, and you found yourself leaning upwards. Her red eyes, glowing now, watched you tremble as you weakly lifted yourself, your own eyes growing wide as she entranced you. You were very easy for her.

Smiling through her song, she snaked her arm under your waist and easily lifted you up, pressing your bare body to hers. You were so cold against her, so feeble and weak. Your eyes trained on her lips, your irises glowing red from her magic flowing within you. She could feel your mind breaking down, letting her in, growing weaker and weaker. Finally, you closed your eyes and leaned up to kiss her. The Siren held your head with her large hand and kissed you softly, her lips smooth and slippery.

Her song was how she got her victims, but her kiss was how she trapped them. You were under her will now.

Breaking the kiss slowly, the Siren laid you gently back down on the rock. “It’s much easier when you’re calmer, detka. Now, tell me your name.”

“Y/n,” you whispered inaudibly, but the Siren’s ears were trained enough to hear you.

“Y/n,” she repeated in her lilting voice, smiling with her sharp teeth. “You’re the prettiest one I’ve ever caught, y/n.”

Her eyes raked down your limp body that she held in her arm, her free hand pressing against the bloody scratches on your tummy. She gathered some of your blood on her blackened finger and lifted it up to her mouth, sucking your blood off her long finger. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head like a reptile.

Though you felt paralyzed, there was still some consciousness left in your head. You were starting to realize that there was a reason sailors didn’t let their women on their boats, and that the reason was hovering over you.

“You’re right, beautiful girl,” she purred, “But don’t even think about those other human women. You’re the best one of them all.” Her voice had an edge of malice, and it was sickening to hear it through the sweet, complimentary tone.

Her red eyes flickered back to the scratches on your tummy, and she leaned down, letting her long, snaky tongue slither out of her mouth and onto the scratches, licking up your blood. Her breath fanned over the expanse of your stomach, covered in goosebumps. Her hands gripped either side of your ribcage as she grazed her mouth over your stomach, landing on a spot off to the side before digging her teeth into your flesh.

“Ah!” you screamed out, feeling all the blades of her teeth stab into you. She let go, revealing a bloody bite mark on your torso.

“So sweet and fresh,” she growled.

A particular wave of water came up aggressively onto the shore, rolling over her ankles and causing scales to appear before the water receded and human skin covered it again.

The Siren moved to your chest, her large hand grabbing one of your tits and squeezing while she rolled her long, thin tongue over your nipple, her siren eyes flashing up at you. You squirmed, whimpering from the pain but also from another uncontrollable emotion. You were entranced by her, under her will, and had no control over any feeling she gave you emotionally or physically.

Moving her mouth to your other breast, she sunk her teeth into the mound of flesh, causing you to cry out again. You attempted to lift your arms to fight back, but she quickly snatched them and pinned them to the sharp rocks.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya.

YA smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

She sang again, her voice filling you as she gave you more bites between each lyric, blood now dripping down your sides. You were dizzy, from the blood or the trance or the entire situation, and helpless. Your blood was smeared across the entire lower half of her face, dripping from her chin, staining her razor teeth as she grinned. It was so strange, seeing a monstrous look on such a seductive, beautiful woman.

When the Siren glided her tongue down the center of your stomach, you felt a twitch within you. When her hands gripped your hips and scratched downward, coming to grab your tender thighs and spread them open, you obliged. You felt hotter now, as if steam would start rising out of your body into the cold air. There were already billows of fog coming out of your lips with each breath.

“Such a delicate angel,” the Siren purred at you as she lowered her body down. As she settled her elbows over your thighs, her legs tucked back into the water. The waves gushed over her bottom and onto her lower back, and when it receded, she had a tail again, halfway resting in the water, the crimson fin on the very end flipping up in the water instinctively.

You were naked, bleeding on the rocks, being overtaken by a Siren, the Scarlet Siren no less, but you felt overcome with a pleasurable sensation. It was a mix between drunken and sexual as the Siren licked her tongue over your thighs.

When she had you to a point of gyrating your hips for her, she finally put her mouth over your core, sucking on your sensitive nub immediately. You cried out, grabbing onto rocks as she suckled on you, causing arousal to already slowly gush out of you.

Her tongue was long and thin and bumpy, so when she lapped it over your slit and then pushed it deep inside you, you nearly went blind. She snaked her tongue in and out of her, her hands grabbing your thighs harshly as she forced your legs open wider, moaning onto your clit. She seemed hungry, ravenous, as she devoured you, and you felt the terrifying hardness of the very edge of her teeth almost hitting your sensitive skin every once in a while. You could tell that she had done this before, and you wondered what number you were going to be in the list of women she had killed.

“Ah!” you cried out, feeling yourself coming close already. The feeling was something entirely different, and before you knew it, you were clenching around her tongue and crying out, your body arching off the rocks.

“So delicious,” the Siren hissed when she retracted her tongue, staying where she was between your legs while you panted and squirmed. “And so tight.”

Without warning, she placed four fingers in a row at your entrance. You swallowed hard, your consciousness breaking through a little to fight back by thrashing around. You tried to close your legs, but she was amazingly strong.

The Scarlet Siren opened her mouth to sing her song, and you relaxed involuntarily. You could only scream when she forced four of her fingers into you. The pain was dizzying, along with all the blood you’d lost, and you were halfway unconscious as she stretched your cunt out around her fingers, forcing you to take all four of her unnaturally long digits. Your walls resisted, but she kept thrusting, lapping up any arousal and blood along the way. She bit into your thigh, rubbed her face in the wound and curled her fingers inside you, watching you tremble and squirm dumbly.

You finally started to come to when the pain went away, pleasure taking over. The stretch felt otherworldly, her tongue flicking your clit and lapping at it, fingers pumping deep and hard into you so that it was all you could feel. Besides the gentle waves of the water near you, all you could hear was the squelching noises that she committed on you. She devoured you and fucked you eagerly, hungrily, like an animal, becoming more and more carnal the more she had of you.

When your second climax crashed over you and you convulsed uncontrollably, whimpering and screaming and thrashing, the Siren chuckled victoriously between your thighs.

When the climax left you, your body dropped limp on the rocks. Your vision went blurry, and all you could see was red eyes hovering over you staring at you, and the dark crimson of blood on her face.

“You did so good, detka,” she lilted, caressing your cheek with her soft hand. “I think I’ll keep you.”

Fortunately for you, you could feel nothing but bliss. It was the Siren’s entrancement on you that made you feel heavenly as she took hold of one of your ankles and dragged you into the water like a dead fish, swimming away into the black and taking you with her.

Your abandoned boat still floated upside down a ways off from the shore. The cloud of fog was still on the sea’s surface, crowding into the cove. The water washed away your blood from the rocks.

[htchnr]

♰ my heart is a sad affair ༻ C. HOWARD.*ೃ˚ PART TWO.

➻ masterlist. ➻ buy me a coffee!

CW ➻ shouting ⋆ FEELINGSSSS ⋆ reader smacks the everliving HECK out of Cooper ⋆ he deserved it ⋆ kissing ⋆ mention of a Gulper ⋆ flashback to hunting deer in a forest ⋆ fallout canon violence/descriptions ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

PAIRING ➻ wife!reader x Cooper. (they were married before the war, but both of them believe the other is long dead.)

SUMMARY ➻ you were gonna strangle him when you got your hands on him. after shouting for Ma to come out and cut you loose you were livid. you had found him after all this time, alive, and he leaves like that? he was going to get the slap of the century, and then some. WC ➻ 3,2K.

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐇𝐓���𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

you were gonna strangle him when you got your hands on him. after shouting for Ma to come out and cut you loose you were livid. you had found him after all this time, alive, and he leaves like that? he was going to get the slap of the century, and then some.

you were thankful now for the tracking or hunting skills he taught you while on vacation in the deep woods so many decades ago, teaching you how to track and hunt wildlife. but now, you'll make him regret it.

"you look for anything," he pauses pointing to some tracks, but also towards some leaves that looked half eaten. "tracks or signs, and try and gauge what direction they came from," he explains, rifle on his back as you two quietly walked through the dense forest.

"seems easy enough," you shrug, glancing around. you'd always been a quick learner, so this was gonna be a piece of cake.

he chuckles, a warm smile on his lips. "we'll see about that sweetheart," he gestures for you to head in front of him. "let's see how you do," he grins, throwing a cheeky wink your way. you snort, shaking your head with a smile as you step in front of him, eyes flitting around you.

though, with the heavy boot prints in the loose sand and dirt it felt too easy. you rolled your shoulder as you walked along the tracks, looking at the different sets of foot prints;

one set that would belong to Vault Dweller, another set which clearly belonged to Wilzig, a heavy limp clear in them (along with blood) — and the last set belonging to Cooper. you also noticed what would be the dog's prints, varying in pace. though, usually beside Cooper's.

the sun was unforgiving, beating down on you violently as you walked. your anger slowly dimmed down as your mind drifts to the memories you tried so hard to forget.

your eyes flit around the forest, looking across bushes, looking through the dirt, anything. but you were surprisingly stumped. you had tracked what seemed to be a deer for a little over half an hour.

you came to a halt and huffed as you roll your shoulders. "okay i give up," you turn around and find Cooper smiling at you with those lovestruck eyes. you laugh at his look, his smile only widens at the sound. "what?" you smile.

he shakes his head, "nothing honey," he walks over and pecks your cheek. "you got us really far, you're really getting the hang of this." he compliments, and steps in front of you to take the lead.

he looks around for a minute, before he taps your hand to get your attention. "see there?" he points to a shrub. "more bite marks," he says, and you huff. he smiles and gestures you to continue in front of him again. "c'mon, i've got the feeling we're getting close."

huh, you cocked your head at the sight before you. Wilzig's body, surrounded by blood, and missing his head. you swallowed, would Cooper have done this? or did the girl do it to lighten her load?

you hoped Cooper didn't do this, yet you also doubted the Vault Dweller would have the stomach for something like this. you look around, eyes meeting the tracks of the girl, then Cooper's along with the dog's. well, you sighed, let's keep this show on the road.

you missed Roosevelt now more than ever, his gentle patter beside you as he followed you around. he used to love following you around while you did chores around the house — laid beside you while you ironed clothes, politely sat out of the way while you vacuumed. his favorite thing was to run around the yard while you hung up your laundry outside.

your heart ached for your fluffy companion, you missed him so much. you wondered if Cooper missed him too, or more so how much.

Cooper and Roosevelt were inseparable, when Cooper was home Roosevelt rarely left his side. and when Cooper was away, Roosevelt never left yours, almost as if Cooper told him to guard you.

the thought made you smile, sighing as you walked along the trail of steps. you hated this fucking wasteland and it's violently cruel sun.

the lush surroundings a upcoming Hollywood Boulevard were a nice change of pace, it was good to see that while some areas were completely infertile and dead, other areas absolutely thrived.

the tracks showed slight panic on the Vault Dwellers side, quick dashes and marks where it looked like she had slipped or fallen. Cooper's were calm and collected as ever, and the dog's jumped around all over the place, before evening out beside Cooper again.

you walked along the waters edge, keeping a close eye on the lake beside you. you had heard stories of huge things jumping out, and being caught by something while this close to Cooper was not on your to-do list today.

you were close to them, you could tell by the depth and freshness of the prints. you let put a shaky breath, your original frustration bubbling up to the surface again. your hands shook a little beside you. you had some time to think of what you were going to say, but now that you were nearing them your brain was drawing blanks.

"honey look!" Cooper whispered, pulling you down behind a tree, pointing into the distance. you followed his finger, eyes landing on a deer grazing fifteen or twenty feet from you two.

your eyes lit up, "hey i did it!" you whispered excitedly. Cooper grinned, rubbing a warm hand across your lower back in a form of 'i'm proud'. and he was damn proud, it took him much longer the first time he went hunting.

"well," he takes ahold of his rifle, handing it to you. you grab it from him, positioning it the way he taught you. "breathe in and out," he muttered, his hand not leaving your lower back. he looked over your shoulder, seeing how you were aiming. "and well, you know what to do," he smiles.

you smile at his words and the warm hand inching towards your waist. you take a deep breath, looking down the sight as you aimed, your finger wrapping around the trigger. you exhaled slowly, and squeezed the cold trigger, letting your shot fly.

the sound of panicked shouting snapped you out of the memory, eyes snapping towards what looked to be an old dock. you swing your rifle off your back and hold it tight, stepping through the overgrown environment and closer towards the yelling.

the closer you got, the more clear the voice became, "i lost it! okay i lost it!" the Vault Dweller shouted, fear and exhaustion clear in her voice.

you neared the edge of the forest, the rest beyond flattening into a open space by the water. you could see the Vault Dweller and Cooper clearly now, as well as the dog who barked at the water with vigor. Cooper had is gun aimed no more than a few inches from the Vault Dweller's face.

the dog suddenly snapped it's head up, snout pointing directly to where you were. well, you thought, it was a matter of time.

Cooper looked at the dog, who had completely stopped barking now. the girl didn't turn to look at the dog, seizing the opportunity to kick Cooper's legs out from under him and shoot up and away from him, her gun now pointed at him.

"you better get that gun out of his face, girl, or you'll regret it."

Cooper's head spun around, wide eyes looking around. a small wave of 'oh shit' washing over him. the Vault Dweller turned to face you, eyes widening. "you, from back in Filly," she spoke, her voice sounding a little out of breath.

"what'd i say?" you cocked your rifle, "get that gun out of his face." anger boiling back up at the sight of him on the ground. he deserved that kick.

the girl blinked, reluctantly holstering her gun and stepping away from Cooper. your rifle remained aimed at him though, as you stepped closer to him. Cooper blinked, an awkward smile on his lips. "hey, fancy seein' you 'round here-" the thud of the butt of your rifle against his temple interrupting him. "fuckin' hell!" he shouted, a hand coming up to cradle his head. he looked up at you, and eyeing the rage in your eyes. "okay i deserved that,"

the Vault Dweller watched the exchange from a short distance, standing beside the dog who had returned it's attention to the water.

"get the fuck up." you seethed, rifle still aimed at his scarred head. Cooper inhaled, slowly getting up, then standing before you. you only swung your rifle over your shoulder once he stood at his full height, dark eyes watching your every move. 

his lips parted to speak, but you beat him to it with a smack that rang through the overgrown area. Cooper’s head reeling back at the force. he blinked widely for a moment before turning his head back to face you.

the Vault Dweller watched with her lips parted as you had smacked him, the sound sending a jolt through her. who the hell were you that he let you do this? if it were her she'd be dead as soon as she began to raise her hand.

you raised your hand again, this time jabbing a finger into his leather clad chest. "Cooper Franklin Howard, what the fuck were you thinking?!" you shouted at him, wild eyes staring into his gaunt ones. "fucking tying me up? are you out of your goddamn mind?!" Cooper looked pained, he regretted tying you up then, but even more so now.

he looked down a little, and you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you. "what the fuck was one of our vows, huh?" your voice cracked a little at the volume. you let go of his thickly scarred chin to yank him down to your level by the lapels of his duster. "where you go, i go, Cowpoke!" you yelled at him, tears started to well up in your eyes.

Cooper swallowed, eyes flitting across your face. his heart ached at the thought of the wedding, the vows said and the love shared. it hurt.

you shook him by his lapels once more, "i don't care where the fuck you go, but unless you're dead i'm there with you!" your voice starting to falter as tears slide down your cheeks. oh how he hated to see you cry, it cracked his broken heart into even more pieces.

you stood there for a second, wet eyes watching his as you could just barely see tears starting to prick at his as well. you watched him closely as he pulled off his thick leather gloves and dropped them, calloused and scarred hands coming up to cover yours. Cooper visibly shuddered once his bare hands met your painfully soft ones.

the Vault Dweller silently watches, eyes wide as she sees the emotional love in Cooper's eyes. what the fuck happened to the terrifying ghoul that was about to shoot her?

your breath hitched as he held your hands, eyes flitting down to them. they looked exactly like the skin on his face, an angry red, completely blistered and scarred over. you looked at all his features, his gaunt eyes, his thinned lips, yellow teeth. and the blaringly obvious, his missing nose.

"oh Cooper," you rasped, your voice aching from the yelling. you pulled a hand free from his and pressed it against the scarred cheek you had smacked. he didn't flinch as you gently rubbed your thumb across his cheek. he whispered your name as though it hurt to say, a tear finally rolling down his skin.

you reach your other hand up, holding both sides of his face as you pull him down and press your lips against his. Cooper tries to step back a little, taken by surprise, but your hold on his face doesn't let him move far. it takes him a second, as if he thinks this is a dream, before his reaches one hand to hold your face and the other to pull you closer by your waist.

the Vault Dweller watches with slight disgust, but also with a small thought of awe.

you finally let go against him, tears rolling freely down your cheeks and wetting his as you cry against into the kiss. although he looks different and feels different, the waves of comfort and safety feel exactly the same as they always have as he holds you tight.

you reluctantly pull away, looking up at him with teary eyes. you press one last kiss against his lips before fully pulling away, his hand holding yours as if he can't let go. "what on earth did you get yourself into cowboy?" you sigh sadly, your hand returning to his cheek.

Cooper shakes his head, "you don't wanna know," he replies, the sigh palpable.

the Vault Dweller blinks as the dog starts barking like crazy again, "uh guys, i'd hate to interrupt this shockingly sweet moment but i think the Gulper's coming back!" she panics, looking at her pipboy as you hear the tell tale geiger counter sound picking up immensely.

Cooper looks back to you, hand on his gun. "you still remember what i taught you?" he asks, unholstering his gun.

you roll your eyes with a smile, "i'll make you wish i'd forgotten," as you swing your rifle off your shoulder, ready for a fight.

you'd have a long talk once you were in a somewhat safe shelter later..

TAGLIST ; @live-logs-and-proper @looonytooons @seeingstarks @thewastelandwriter @lacey-mercylercy @marina-and-the-memes @p4rsuade @anonymous-creep @likoplays @iceviolet11 @https-junebug @silverose365 @athanza @songbirdemerald-blog @justt-myth @looneylooomis @v3lv3tf0x

[roguerambles]

A Moment of Respite

Blood of Zeus - Heron x Hera's!Daughter Reader

Warnings - 18+Only.

I've had this sitting in my drafts for ages and I want to get it out before I try any Season 2 stuff. Plus I just like the idea of these two, okay--

Kind of a Part 4 to Trouble.

Enjoy the Rambles!

-

Training was not going well.

You cringed as Heron flew across the arena, crashing into the sands with a pained groan. The automaton returned to its standing position dispassionately, and beside you Zeus sighed heavily.

It had been days since Mother had left Olympus, taking some of the other Gods of Olympus with her to the Underworld. Hades had apparently allowed them sanctuary, although he declared he would be taking no further involvement than that.

...your wrist ached as the memory of Mother’s hand grasping you, Hera and Zeus’s raised voices, Mother’s betrayed expression melting into a fury you had never had directed at you before flashed across your mind.

You had chosen to stay on Olympus, and Mother and Ares had left, others at their heels.

“Zeus.” Hephaestus spoke from behind you, his voice low and gruff. “This isn’t working.”

Zeus’s jaw clenched as Heron went hurtling across the arena once more, kicking up a dust cloud of sand as he crashed into the ground with a loud, painful sounding thump. “He needs to unlock his potential.” His large hands gripped the stonework of the balcony in front of him. “Soon.”

You were not much of a warrior, but you were fairly certain that if Hephaestus’s contraptions broke every bone in Heron’s body, that would be rather counterproductive to improving Heron’s combat efficiency.

As Zeus and Hephaestus continued to bicker in hushed voices, you felt a warm presence appear at your side. Apollo sighed as he leaned against the balcony, peering down into the training ground where Heron stumbled to his feet once more.

“He doesn’t give up, at least.”

“Is this really the best approach?” You nervously played with your hands as you watched Heron get up and be knocked down, over and over.

Apollo shrugged. “Athena is too busy preparing the defences, and Ares is with Hera. We don’t have a lot of options, training wise.”

You both continued to watch for a while, and you could feel your stomach sinking the longer it went on. Heron barely glanced your way.

You had not spoken since the night Mother had left, but the memory of Heron shocked expression as he looked at you – really looked at you – and the blind panic it had created in you made your stomach churn. You had fled to your room and would probably still be there if Hermes hadn’t forced you out.

“You should say hello.”

Your head snapped around to stare at Apollo, you was still looking out over the balcony. “I should what?”

“You should go over and talk to him.” Apollo replied casually, as though he were suggesting something completely normal. “The staring is getting a little old.”

“I am not—I am not staring.”

“Heron!” Apollo called out abruptly, loudly, and to your horror Heron actually looked up towards you. “Would you like some water? We have plenty over here—”

You turned to flee somewhere far, far away, only for Hermes – where in Tartarus did he come from – to appear, blocking your way with a small, but noticeable smile.

Traitor!

Zeus sounded displeased. “Interruptions are not—”

Apollo grabbed his father’s arm and began tugging him towards the stairs, so suddenly Zeus stumbled. “You are correct, Father, we should check the equipment on the other side of the arena—”

Zeus looked confused as Hermes joined Apollo in practically dragging the King down the stairs. Hephaestus rolled his eyes and stalked towards the automaton, muttering something about “those bloody sons of Zeus”. You were rooted to the stop as Heron slowly approached, his head low, as though he were struggling to meet your eye.

Your heart clenched as Heron busied himself gathering water, taking somewhat longer than was required for the task. The silence was so dense you felt it were almost choking you. You scrambled for something, anything, to say, but your mind was a void of disjointed words. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. I couldn’t tell you. Please don’t be angry. I’m sorry for Electra, I’m so—

“…you’re short.”

You were yanked from your frazzled thoughts when Heron finally said something. You looked at him in confusion, while Heron cringed, looking frustrated with himself. “I…pardon?”

“I just mean….” Heron rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but directly at you. “You…the others are….you look different. Not bad, you’re beautiful, I just mean—”

“Oh. Oh! Right, yes, well, I wasn’t born like the rest of them. Mother—she made me out of clay.” Heron lifted his head to stare at you blankly. You felt your cheeks burn. “It is…unusual, I know.”

“…I’m sorry, was that rude—”

“No, no, not at all, you should hear how Apollo and Artemis were born—”

Silence fell over you again as you both fumbled over your words. You were torn between fleeing the arena altogether and staying exactly where you were because awkward or not you and Heron were talking. Over his shoulder you could see Zeus and Hephaestus by the automaton, and knew Heron would be pulled away soon. You inhaled deeply, steeling your nerves. I am the Queen of the Heavens daughter, by the Fates, act like it. “Heron….I am so sorry. About…about your mother.”

Heron looked pained, his fingers clenching around the waterskin in his hand. “…it was Hera, wasn’t it?”

It wasn’t a question, and you both knew it. You bowed your head, yours eyes beginning to sting. Do not cry. This isn’t about you.

“…yes.” You forced out, your throat feeling thick. “Heron…Heron, I know it’s not enough, but I’m sorry—”

“Why?” Heron cleared his throat, tossing the waterskin down. “It’s not your fault. You weren’t even there.”

“But….” You bit your lip. “Mother…I mean… Hera is—”

“Your mother, I know.” Heron wasn’t quite looking at you again, but he didn’t sound angry. Grief clung to his voice, and you fought the impulse to reach for his hand. “And Zeus is my…father. That alone made mother and I targets for Hera’s wrath. You had nothing to do with it.”

“Heron—”

Heron started to laugh.

You faltered, and watched as Heron hurriedly clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide as though startled by his own reaction. “I…I am sorry.” He choked out, eyes wide even as you caught glimpse of a mirthful smile behind his fingers. “Please…please continue…”

Your anxiety was briefly overpowered by confusion. “What…what is so amusing…?”

Heron’s shoulders began to shake. “I…I assumed your parents would disapprove of me.” He said, and the words seemed to break something in him. He doubled over, grasping his knees, eyes squeezing shut as he began to laugh even harder. “Now…now it turns out your mother is Hera. And��and I am the bastard son of her philandering husband….!”

You stared owlishly at him as his laugh grew louder – you could see Zeus and Hephaestus watching from the side-lines, their expressions suggesting concern that the automaton had hit Heron harder than they had feared.

“That’s…well yes, that is….Heron….Heron, it’s not funny!”

Heron tried to reply, but it came out as a wheeze. “I…gods…I had no idea…!”

You could feel a smile beginning to creep onto your face and tried to squash it, but Heron’s laughter was infectious, and was the most happy you’d seen him in…well, a while. “Well…no, I suppose…I suppose you are not what my mother would consider an ideal suitor…”

That brought on another wave of near hysterical laughter, and you found yourself giggling along with Heron, until you were both cackling like lunatics in the middle of the arena. You slumped against Heron’s shoulder, clamping a hand over your mouth as you saw Zeus heading towards you both.

“…if you are both finished?” He asked dryly, his eyebrows raised. Heron’s laughter stuttered to a stop, but he didn’t move away from you, the feeling of his body against yours leaving warmth against your skin.

You reluctantly straightened up, brushing away non-existent creases in your dress. “I suppose….” You gestured wordless at the arena. Zeus eyed you cautiously, before clearing his throat and turning back towards the automaton, as though he were examining it. Heron rolled his eyes slightly as you bit down a chuckle – you supposed he was trying to give you both a moment.

“Wish me luck.” Heron gripped his sword, his free hand rising to sheepishly rub his neck. “I think I’ll need a fair share of it…”

You laughed slightly, reaching out to gently pat his arm. He smiled in response, before sighing and trudging after Zeus.

“I think that went well.” Hermes said cheerfully from behind you. You nearly jumped out of your skin. “Don’t you think that went well, Apollo?”

“Indeed!” The Sun God chirped, appearing at your side. “See? All is well that ends well.”

“You two do remember…” Artemis sighed from somewhere behind you – when did she get here? – “…the approaching civil war, yes?”

“Small victories, dearest sister.”

You flushed and turned to stride back towards the stands, while Hermes and Apollo snickered to themselves. Artemis rolled her eyes as you sat beside her, although a small, teasing smile began to tug at her mouth. “Although….I did notice he didn’t deny it when you described him as a suitor.”

“Artemis!”

You blushed furiously as the Goddess of the Hunt laughed, and your stubbornly kept your gaze ahead, focusing on Heron on the sands below, feeling just a little bit lighter than before.

[i-cant-sing]

This is going to be interesting fr, like how much differently do your Theodore treat the reader if they were childhood friends

Yesss, but like imagine Theodore being a platonic yandere for his childhood bestie Y/n. He knows you inside out and knows every struggle you've been through, all your secrets, even the ones you've never disclosed to him (yes, he was outside your window on October 12th, 2008 when you didnt come to school because you were "sick" as you had told him but had actually started your period).

Imagine just how overprotective he is, and he's so mean about it too. Its in his nature. He's glaring at you as you tell him that he had no right to beat up your date just because that man had his arm around your waist because you were okay with it. Ofc he just rolls his eyes and tells you that you're too stupid to know what guys are actually like, that you dont know about the "locker room talk" and he's just trying to keep you safe from pervs but ofc youre too "dense" to see it. You could've thought that he might be doing it because he's interested in you like that, but no, he violently cringes at the mere suggestion of your friends that you two fight like a married couple, not to mention how he treats you more like a sibling than your own. Bullying you constantly, messing up your hair, putting you in headlocks as often as he could, kicking the back of your knees to watch you flop on the ground, anything he could do to annoy you.

But he's also very helpful, yknow? He pretends like he couldnt give a rats ass about your existence but will just scoff and yank your assignment from your hands and complete it. Working on your college essay? He reads it, insults you at how stupid it is, then write one for you in one sitting, actually writing about your personal experiences that moves the admission officers to fucking tears at the pure raw emotion it draws out of them. About to leave for a date and you ripped your dress? Signs to you that this is just universe telling you to ditch the guy but then one look at your sad face and he's pulling out an emergency needle kit from his pocket and sewing it up. He'll think of another way to end your date <3

Theodore is also very possessive of you. Even as kids, he would throw sand in other kids eyes just so that theyre too busy crying to approach you and try to play with you. In highschool, he's already built like a transformer and with him having this mean look on his face, people definitely hesitated to approach you, especially when you have this brooding man standing behind you, intimidating everyone who dared to step within 5 feet of you. Now that you two are adults, and Theo is still working as a spy, he would use his skills to take out people that become a little to important to you.

I feel like Theo isn't an animal person, he is definitely not a people person, but he also doesn't care much for pets and it's not even cause his work doesn't allow him to care for pets properly but I still think that he would get a dog trained specifically to keep you out of danger. Or more particularly, keep you in home and bark (and bite/mutilate) anyone who is not him. So if you got a date, make sure he's not picking you up from home.

Definitely definitely finds a way to make you move in with him, if not live next to him. Of course, he has a different place where he keeps his work stuff and gear hidden, but he needs to live with you for his own sanity. And even though he has trackers hidden all over your clothes and belongings, he still likes to ask you where you are, what you're upto, etc, just to see if you'd lie to him. And if you do, be prepared for a very pissed off Theo who is just huffing and puffing all day because how dare you not trust him, your best friend???? Offensive.

But also, when he finds out that someone, anyone made you cry, or even is causing you to stress out, guess who's pulling out their murder gloves?

[w1shb0n3z]

Chilchuck girldad shenanigans!!! +Senshi's thoughts on mlp at the very end

(Brace yourself. This is a long one)

What's Chilchuck's favorite girldad activity? It's not doing their hair, no. That's just something he's been praised on. Being able to put his girls hair up in different styles whenever his wife wasn't around was seen as very admirable and lots of people complemented him on it. Especially non-half-foots (becuase they seem to think the father is less involved in the kids life LMAO) And though his daughters loved when their dad did their hair, they much proffered when their mom did it since it was neater

Chilchuck's favorite girldad activity (well, general girldad activity) is actually playing pretend. He seems like the type to just playfully scoff at kids he sees engaging in an outrageous, glorified LARPing session. And he is. He is that type. He thinks it's playing pretend is silly. But, when it comes to his daughters, it's charming.

He found some genuine entertainment when he was making believe with his little ones while they were young. Fully immersed in the ever complicated plot and nonsensical characters, he loved seeing the spark in their eyes and the giggle in their voices as they played out their fantasies. He'd also like to be dense from time to time just for the reaction it got. Saying things like "but bears can't fly" or "I thought you said princesses couldn't swim" be uase there's something very humorous about being scolded by a toddler

Once the girls got older, though, his favorite activities became specific to the kid.

For Meijack, his mini-me, it was teaching her his craft. For Flertom, the one that looks just like her mother, it was makeovers. And with Puckpatti, his bright-eyed youngest, it was shopping.

A little more of Meijack

She had taken an interest in locksmithing when she was young; so much so that she would often swipe a spare lock when her dad wasn't looking. Mei had proven herself to he a very crafty and tactile person. After about the 15th time, Chilchuck was tired of this and decided to improvise.

He took a nice square wooden board, sanded it down to make sure no mishaps would occur, and then attached some latches, locks, and other miscellaneous things to it. He essentially made a busy board for Mei, and she loved it. She would often be found in her room, buckling and unbluckling, messing with straps and zippers and locks and ties.

He'd make her a new board each year on her birthday; that is, until she turned 5. After that, she got puzzle boxes, and each year, they'd get more and more complex. If they were invented at the time, Mei would totally fuck up a Rubix cube on the low.

Expanding a bit on Flertom

After finding baby Fler with a face smeared with her mom's ruby red lipstick, Chilchuck knew he had a future full of make-up modeling. So following that incident, he bought Fler her own little make-up kit.

Initially, little Fler was satisfied just beautifying her own face, then showing it off to her dad; however, she did start feel like good old papa Chuck was missing out on the fun, so she pressured him into letting her put some eyeshadow on him. It was bright blue, it was messy, and it was awful to apply.

After a year or two, the make-overs got better and better. 10 year old Fler was becoming quite talented with her cosmetic skills. She'd gone from doing outlandish looks on her dad to actually finding styles that fit him and testing out new ideas on him.

What about Puckpatti?

Now I did say that Puckpatti's designated activity was shopping, but what I meant to say was haggling down prices and looking for deals. Ever since she was young, the adorable, unassuming half-foot had a knack for bargaining— even while trading toys in the playground or snacks in the lunchroom.

Chilchuck first noticed Patti's gift after she came home from school with a necklace on. ...She certainly didn't come to school with it, so it's safe to say Chilchuck was confused. Once he found out what actually happened, he did get Patri to return the necklace and focused her abilities to learning how to shop efficiently.

Patti truly did enjoy shopping with her dad. And kn occasoik they would go to different shopping centers together. Chilchuck would always get discounted tools, courtesy of Patti, and Patti would find a pair of shoes or some fruit and nealry cut the price in half. They go wandering place to place, talking and spotting the best deals, It's always a fun and productive time!

Now to Senshi

If you've made it this far, congrats! Here's your reward

Either in a modern AU, or just due some crazy magical force, Senshi finds out about MLP.

Now, would he watch this on his own? Nope. A colorful show about ponies doesn't catch his eye, so sorry.

But let's just say he ends up watching MLP. (Moslty because in this scenario, Marcille had mentioned liking the show and senshi heard it was about horses- or well, ponies)

After whatching a few episodes he's come to a few conclusions and has gained a couple of opinions.

Who's his favorite character? Big Mac

Who's his least favorite characters? Diamond Tiara, Silverspoon, Gilda, Rainbowdash, and Rarity

He does NOT fw the them.

His opinions on the mane 6 + a few more

Twilight: very uptight, but has the potential to be a leader of some kind. Not a personal favorite

Fluttershy: Thinks she needs some guidance and to grow a backbone, but is very impressed witb her connection to the fuana

Rarity: Does NOT like her. Thinks she's spoiled and prissy and snippy

Applejack: Likes her! Think she's nice and hard working and well rounded

Rainbowdash: Think she does wayyy to much. Someone needs to teach her not to be so full of herself. He legitimately didn't want to watch some of the episodes because he felt like rainbowdash was just being an ass (some with Rarity)

Pinkie pie: Too hyper for his taste. Thinks she's pretty odd

Spike: he finds the idea of keeping a small dragon as a...well, a little brother figure, to be odd. He doesn't get the fact that Spike has a crush on Rarity and thinks that the gang should treat him with more respect

Zecora: Another character he actually likes. The episode introducing her frustrated him a LOT, he actually haf to pause it becuase all that pony racism was too much for him

Luna/Nightmare Moon: He's iffy about her. Ay first, he didn't have too much of an opinion on her, but once he figured out her deal, he liked her a little. He doesn't blame her for turning evil at all

Celestia: Thinks she's USELESS. Oh my god. He's confused because she seems like she should be a queen and not a princess, but based on what she sees her do, he isn't surprised that her status is princess

[emithecharmer]

Will You Marry Me

Fluff galore (it's literally Chan), eating, mentions of dieting (no one is actually on one), mc says she's pregnant (it's a joke) mc is a little dense for a second (aren't we all at times), read this to feed into your delulu thoughts 😍 ALSO! ft! Sana because she's a queen ☝️

"No way!" I exclaimed as I walked with my friend. We had decided to hangout for the day and go window shopping and then stop by the beach.

"Ooh, we should go there, they just opened up!" You said, pointing the a new sushi place that had opened.

"No! I mean- I'm not hungry! We should just keep walking." Sana said, making you eye her a bit at her suspicious behavior.

"Do they have you on another diet or something?" I asked, curling my lip at the thought.

"No! I just feel tired..Maybe we should head to the beach." She suggested.

"Mm, okay.. Can we get like, a corn dog or something though? I haven't eaten all day." You asked, making your stomach rumble at the most convenient moment.

"Uh," Sana glanced down at her phone, "yeah. There's a stand over there." She said, almost speed walking to it.

"..She must really want a corn dog." You said to yourself, walking a bit faster to catch up to her.

.

"The beach is always so pretty at night." You said, taking a, not-very-pretty, bite of your corn dog.

"Oh really?" Sana said, seemingly uninterested.

"Yeah, it makes me forget the fact that I was born with a dog tail and whiskers." You say, nonchalantly.

"No way, really?" She said, looking forward in the distance.

"And that I'm pregnant." You said, giggling at her response.

"Me too, bro..Wait huh?" She turned to you with wide eyes, causing you to break into a fit of laughter.

"I just wanted to see what it would take for you to respond normally." You said, throwing away your stick in the trash.

"Sorry.." She blushed softly when she realized she been out of it.

"It's no problem." You said, linking your hands together.

"Looks like there's a fair here." She said, pointing a bit ahead on the opposite side of the road.

"Ooh, we should go tomorrow!" You suggested, making her nod.

"Sana! Someone's getting proposed to!" You said, pointing to a setup of twinkling lights in the shape of 'Marry Me' on the sand.

"..Noo..." She said, giving you a exasperated look as you looked to the setup.

"Would it be weird if we watched?" You asked, mostly to yourself.

"Probably, yeah." You answered yourself.

"Ooh, what if she said no?" You asked, snorting right after, only to straighten up.

"I shouldn't laugh." You said, pursing your lips to stifle your chuckles.

"You're so weird." Sana said, linking your arms after letting go of your hand.

"Ooh, I wonder if she's going to say yes." You asked, bouncing slightly in your own excitement.

"I was hoping you could tell me." You heard from behind you. You recognized the voice as your lovely boyfriend, Chan. You didn't quite comprehend what was happening until you felt Sana leave your hold and turn you around. You went completely still as you laid eyes on Chan, who was in a suit, holding the most beautiful bouquet of lavender and baby's breath you'd ever seen, and a small black box.

"Oh my gosh.." You looked at Chan and saw him gulp before he gave a nervous smile. You noticed the boys behind him in the distance, along with a. few of your close family members.

"Oh..my..Gosh.." You said quieter, taking a step back when he took a step forward. You immediately saw your mistake when his nervous expression was overshadowed by panic.

You rushed forward and hugged him tightly, not caring if your flowers were smushed.

"Y/n.." He started, both of your eyes immediately filled with tears.

"Chris.." You gave him a watery smile and chuckling when he offered you a similar one.

"Y/n..Hi." He started again.

"I never though that I'd be in a position to be asking someone to marry me, especially someone as perfect as you. You've been my biggest supporter since we met, and you've become someone that I rely so heavily on. You're my biggest inspiration, and you've become my best friend. You met me when I was so low, and all you did was smile and I felt alive. You're my rock and my center, you graced me with your soul and compassion when I was so low, I didn't think there was a way out, but you showed me what true love feels like." You both let out a sob at the same time, giggling hopelessly like idiots as he carried on.

"You're so kind to everyone and you empathize with people, you make them feel seen and feel understood. You are my favorite person and you forever will be. Y/n, I never truly knew what love was until I laid my eyes on you. You've not only shown me what it feels like to be loved, you've made me feel accepted and appreciated. I only hope that I've made you feel the same way I feel about you." You nodded quickly, making him smile.

"Y/n, you're the only woman I can imagine spending my whole life with, and the only woman I would want to. Y/n.." He got down on one knee, but was overcome with shock when you went on your knees with him.

"Will you marry me, baby?" He whispered. You couldn't form words, all you could do was rush forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you nodded.

"Yes.." You finally got out, pulling away.

"Yeah?" He asked, a huge smile on his face.

"Please." You said, letting out another sob.

"I love you so much, Y/n." He said, kissing your forehead as he slipped on the ring. He noticed how you didn't even look at it, you just looked into his eyes and smiled.

"I love you more, Chris."

[munsonluhvr]

♡ august | steve harrington x reader (summer fling) (record player series #3) word count - 1.9k

author's note: sorry for the delay in finishing out this little project. back to writing I go!

August. 

The air between you and Steve is bittersweet; all at once, your heart is heavy with sadness, yet peaceful and warm sitting beside him. You lean into Steve, your body crumpling against the strength of his arm that is placed around you. With ease, he lifts his hand up, his palm grazing the back of your head in a gentle, comforting stroke. You look forward, the rough sea stretching out for miles in front of you;  you dig your feet into the sand, the gritty, cool feeling overwhelming your toes. 

“I can come back,” Steve says, sensing the dissatisfaction that radiates off of you. “Maybe over winter break, and we can write letters to each other in the meantime.” Steve searches for anything to say, anything within him to make you happy, to put the smile he loves so much back on your face. 

At the mere suggestion of having to wait several months just to catch a glimpse of him again, to write letters to pass the time and close the distance between you, makes tears begin to collect in your eyes. You make a poor attempt to sniff them away quietly. “I’ll miss you too much,” you say, your voice cracking. 

You and Steve had been tied to the hip since the beginning of the summer. It had been fate that you two met, just two people in a crowd on the beach. Steve had been on vacation with his parents, a tourist in the little beachside community you call home. It’s nothing new to you to see visitors that catch your eye, only to stay for a few days or weeks and then return back to their own home. For that exact reason, you made sure you would never become intertwined with a tourist, someone who will leave in a matter of time. But Steve was different. 

End of May. It had been a warm summer evening, the sun setting minutes before. Nonetheless, the boardwalk was crowded, the action showing no signs of slowing down. Though the ocean was only a few feet away, the scent of the saltwater thickening the air, there was a dense smell of cotton candy, the distinct scent of boardwalk food that could only make your mouth water. 

Minutes before you had said farewell to your friends, separating for the first time that day. You and a group of your friends spent the day on the beach, letting the sun drench your skin and tan it just right. Now, however, you were tired, your eyes threatening to close on you as you made your way through the crowded street. 

Your bag that was looped over your shoulder weighed down heavily, your towel spilling out the top of the bag. You sighed pathetically, shrugging your bag back up onto your sunburnt shoulder; you wince from the friction between your skin and the handle of your bag. You look down at the ground, getting peaks of peoples bare feet and shoes shuffling passed you in all different directions. You’re so caught up in your thoughts, caught up in the way your body is exhausted, that you don’t notice a brown-haired boy coming your direction. 

In an instant, you’re tossed to the side, landing with a thud on the ground. Your sandals, beach towel, and sunscreen scramble out of your bag and onto the sidewalk, each object getting kicked into different directions by people who are too oblivious to notice you sail to the ground. 

“Holy shit-“ a voice says somewhere above you, though you’re too caught up in the sharp feeling coming from your knee to see who curses in your direction. Drips of blood dribble from your knee and you sigh once more. “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking.” 

You wipe the blood from your knee with the heel of your hand, shaking your head without looking up. “It’s fine, I’m fine.” It’s only when the boy kneels in front of you do you look at him, catching sight of his big, brown eyes and his messy brown hair, laced with salt from the ocean. His skin is lightly tanned, the smell of sunshine and sunscreen radiating off of him.  

He shakes his head. “And you’re bleeding. Let me at least help you find a Band-Aid.” You’re exhausted, annoyed, and now in slight pain, and you relinquish control over the situation and let the nameless boy help you up by his outstretched hand. You reach out, his hand clasping around yours. You’re pulled back onto your feet, and you make an attempt to brush off debris from your clothes. You mutter a soft ‘thanks’ and begin to finish crossing the street, the boy trailing a few steps behind you.

Replaying the fall in your mind as you walk, the light heat from embarrassment creeps across your cheeks. There’s a light sting coming from your knee, and you wonder where you’ll find a band-aid. Your eyes graze the front of the shops that line the beach, all filled with people buying food or sweatshirts with the name of the beach branded across the chest. You sigh softly to yourself, glancing at the stream of blood that dribbles down your shin. 

“Here,” you hear a voice say beside you, and you turn to see it’s the same boy. He’s holding a white slip of paper, clearly a band-aid. “Let me help,” he says before you can object. He kneels in front of you, peeling back the paper and placing the band-aid on your split skin. In the process, he wipes the blood with a paper towel he holds in his other hand. 

“Where’d you find a band-aid?” You ask, trying to break the silence. 

He stands up, shrugging. “I just asked the lady behind the counter. I’m Steve by the way.”

You offer a small smile, his kind gesture beginning to make your hostility slip away. You look up from looking at your knee to look at his face again. “I’m y/n.”  

At the time, you never thought at how heartbreaking a summer romance could be. In every novel you’ve read, it’s warm and soothing, something you crave for yourself – someone to see and understand you so deeply, even if it’s temporary. Now that you’ve experienced this, you know the books make it seem like something it’s not. 

After Steve put the band-aid on you, you didn’t say thank you and continue on with your night. You stood there, as if your feet were glued to the sidewalk. You held Steve’s eye-contact, the world around you seeming like it slowed to a halt. You didn’t even notice people had to maneuver around you as they walked along the boardwalk. You were in a trance, immediately smitten by Steve. 

“Are you visiting?” Steve asks.  

You shake your head. “No, I live here. Are you?” 

Steve nods, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, but for the whole summer. My grandmother has a house here.” 

You nod slowly, knowing there was no chance a good-looking guy like Steve would live in your town. “Nice.” 

Steve chews on his bottom lip, thinking of something else to say. Little do you know, Steve’s heart thumps rapidly against his chest, being in your presence proving to be intimidating. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, his eyes glued to your face and body. “Yeah, I don’t really know anybody here though.” 

You shrug, trying to be nonchalant. “It’s easy to make friends.”

“Would you want to be friends then?” As Steve says this, he realizes how juvenile it sounds and he knows he’ll beat himself up for saying that later. 

You laugh, folding your arms across your chest. “Sure, I’ll be your friend.” 

From there, you and Steve were inseparable. It was a slow burn at first, the tension between you growing over time. You both knew it was there, but who was going to acknowledge it first was the question. 

You and Steve spent nearly every day together, meeting up at the beach, the pier, and eventually, at each other’s houses. It was easy to spend time with Steve, his charisma and sense of humor keeping you on the tip of your toes, his kindness, and flirtatious ways roping you in further and further. You found yourself laying on your bed into the early morning, replaying the time spent with Steve over in your head. Despite enjoying your time with Steve, you dreaded every day that passed by, an internal countdown clock until the end of summer and when Steve would return to Indiana playing in the back of your mind. 

Months into hanging out with Steve, you sit on the edge of the pier, feet dangling off the side, arms placed behind you to prop you up. It was July 4th, and you had managed to find the best spot to watch the fireworks. When Steve had sat down, he made sure to sit close beside you, leaving your thighs and swinging feet to brush against each other.  You chat with each other, waiting for the firework show to start. You both jolt, laughing softly, when the fireworks begin out of nowhere. While the fireworks were bright and beautiful, Steve couldn’t help but watch you instead. He watches as the colored fireworks reflect of your face, your face watching intently, a small smile decorating your face. His stomach twists with anticipation. 

You look over to your right, seeing Steve’s eyes trained on you. You smile, a little laughing escaping your lips. “What?” 

It’s then that Steve leans forward, his large hand cupping the side of your face. His lips are warm and soft, entangling with yours. You lean forward too, letting your mouth move against his. You sigh happily, all your dreams coming true. His lips taste lightly of red wine, knowing he must have had some over dinner with his parents. Though the fireworks echo off the ocean, the world is silent to you. 

Thinking about this moment now, nearly two months later when Steve is leaving for Indiana the next day, your heart aches. Where had the time gone? 

Standing on the beach with Steve, tears in your eyes, your heart pangs with sadness. You glance up at Steve. He breaks his glance at the beach to look down at you. He offers you a small,  half-smile, letting his fingertips guide strands of your hair away from your face. He pulls you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you. “In the beginning,” Steve begins to say, resting his chin softly on your head. “I thought you weren’t mine to lose, that this was just for the summer. But now, saying good-bye to you feels like the greatest loss.” 

You clench your jaw, wishing all your emotions away. You can’t think of anything to say. 

“-But I want to make this work. When you think about it, Indiana isn’t that far away. Throw some weekends trips in there, winter break will come in no time, and I can be here for a month.” You smile thinking about that, but it seems so far away.

Steve notices your mind drifting away. He turns towards you, loosening his arms around you to cup your face between your hands. “Hey,” Steve says, leaning his forehead onto yours. The tip of his nose brushes yours, your eyes staring into his. “We will make this work, okay?” 

You hesitate, and Steve wiggles you. “Okay?” he repeats. You can't help but smile at Steve showcasing his commitment, the feeling of anticipation of missing someone you've spent everyday with for the last few months and hope for the future beginning to fill you up.

You laugh, nodding. “Okay.” 

[frozenjokes]

a new player enters the mumbomaid au. uh. merlabs. he’s a little bit cursed thanks to joel but that’s okay. (his hair should be longer but whatever)

uhhhh snippet? Probably doesn’t make much sense out of context but I don’t care. The next chapter is pretty dense

***

When the human burst through the clearing, it didn’t even notice the two mermaids, instead hunching over its knees with heaving breaths, so ragged they almost sounded like growls. Mumbo was entirely tense from fingers to tail tip, fins on end and quivering, while Ghost looked little more than bored, or maybe just pained, it was difficult to tell with fins so lax.

“Got your bloody clothes, Etho, christ, you didn’t make it easy to find you. Couldn’t have gone anywhere else huh?” The human tossed the bag off its back and into the sand, “This is a nice location though, for the future,” it mumbled, “Close to the river. Lots of options.”

It didn’t even look up as it shed some of its clothes, stumbling toward the water with a distinctly unsettling gait, legs shaking almost violently- was it sick? Either way, Mumbo didn’t want it anywhere near him. He spat a long, rattling hiss, satisfied as the human fell back into the sand, eyes wide enough for Mumbo to see in his half-blind state. It was a similar size to Grian, smaller without most of its clothes, with long, almost matted looking hair. Beside him, Ghost made an odd noise, almost reminiscent of a human laugh. Clearly they were getting sicker by the moment, no, no, Mumbo wouldn’t let this human anywhere close, not when Ghost couldn’t defend themself.

“Etho!” the human squeaked, shuffling back on uncoordinated limbs, “Who is this? Tell ‘im off! Tell ‘im off!” Something like slits across its neck and chest flared, reminiscent of gills. Odd jewelry, maybe? Did human paint move across their bodies? Well, regardless, Mumbo did not appreciate being yelled at, so he snaked closer to the water’s edge, rearing up with another defensive hiss.

‘Sorry, no speak- ah- human?’ Ghost whistled, rolling over somewhat pathetically, and the human screeched, kicking up sand in Mumbo’s direction, which, honestly, not a great choice.

“Not funny! Not funny!”

“Maybe not,” Etho spoke in human, and Mumbo nearly jumped out of his skin, reeling on them with wide eyes. “But I do wish someone would bite you.” They paused, turning back to Mumbo, ‘Don’t bite it, please.’

[an0nfr0mth3d3n]

As a sapphic myself, how could I not write a bit about the cutest lesbian couple (almost) on the qsmp?

The day Bagi got picked for Team Soulfire was one of the best days of her life, that she remembered at least. That Eye guy must really be homophobic because Bagi was going crazy with not being able to see the adorable girl that had so captured her heart.

Bagi picked the last of her supplies into her backpack, shouldering it quickly. There was no telling when her former teammates who had got chosen for Red could show up, and she wasn’t keen on finding out if the Green Gay spirit would grant her immunity from her former team.

Plus the sooner she saw Tina the sooner she could find happiness in this cruel horrible world of Purgatory.

Bagi smiled as the sun beat down on her face, soaking up the sounds and smells of the jungle one last time. The spicy hint of cacao, the distant squawk of a parrot, the gentle mist kissing her face, the earthy loam beneath her feet, and the far off crashing of waves against a sandy shore.

With spirit determined, she marched forwards towards the sounds of the waves.

Admittedly, she did in fact tense up a little bit when she saw the terror of the island Badboyhalo, who was doing figure eights in a motorboat (on the beach), but considering she already knew he was coming down to pick her up she wasn’t too surprised.

“BAGIIIII” Bad yelled when he saw her coming from the dense woods.

“BADDDDD!!” Bagi couldn’t help smiling at the sight of her dear friend, and she jogged forward to greet him.

Bad’s eyes narrowing in a manner that Bagi had come to associate with mischief, and as she approached, she noticed him type something out on his communicator.

Bagi stopped in front of him, leaning her hand on her hip. “Ok, whaaat are you typi- OOF”

Her sentence was cut short with a loud impact to her back, causing the Brazilian to fall onto the sand. The confusion only lasted a few seconds because with the impact came a high pitched happy squealing and even though it had been a week, Bagi would know that sound anywhere. “TINAAAAAAAAAAA”

The weight on her back shifted, and Bagi turned over in the sand, not minding the beach sand that was getting into her hair. In front of her, was her beloved-

Woah wait were those abs????

Bagi gawked at the crop top exposing Tina’s midriff. Where once was soft squishy belly, not that Bagi was specifically ever checking Tina out haha never…, were now sharply defined and well tanned muscles.

Bagi could hardly breathe as she tore her eyes away, face bursting into heat. It really didn’t help that as she did so she caught sight of the lean muscle now attached to Tina’s arms, and the pretty tan that the other girl had gotten.

Speaking of the other girl-

“Oh my god. What was I THINKING. Why did I DO that? I literally do not even know why I did that Bagi I am SO sorry. Ohhh god this is so embarrasssiiinngggg. Oh my god let me help you up.”

As Tina talked anxiously, Bagi could feel her senses returning, and briefly registered the shi- the muffin-eating grin on Bad’s face.

“Wow Tina I can’t believe you ATTACKED poor Bagi! I’m so sorry, I guess she doesn’t want you on our team!” Bad said far too cheerfully.

“Shut up you FREAK!” Tina yelled at the…vampalien?

“Freak??” Bad scoffed pompously, “I take offense to that! Bagi get your dog under control!”

“YOU’RE THE D-“

BONK

“OW!”

“DON’T MESS WITH TINA!”

Bad grumbled, rubbing his head, expression that of a kicked puppy. “Such violence! I cannot believe you would hit me, and with a cooking pot of all things!”

Bagi hefted the weight of the pot in her hands “Yeah, well I don’t have my frying pan, so this will do!”

“Wait, you have a cooking pot? Oh my god we should totally make a dinner for each other tonight!” Tina said, grasping Bagi’s arm with stars in her eyes.

Bagi stared. Tina’s face, while slightly cut in bruised from the trials of literally existing in purgatory, was gorgeously sun kissed, a faint tan spread evenly across her complexion that spoke tales of working in the sun.

“Um. Errrr. Yeah. Do you have any ingredients?” Bagi managed to get out.

Tina smirked proudly. “Ingredients? Girl, I’m like, the co-leader of the entire farm! I could get you anything! Anything for you Bagi!”

Bagi grinned, heart fluttering. “Then let’s have a nice dinner tonight. Might as well enjoy something in this hellish place!”

“Could I co-“

“No.”

[splicedskies]

Planned Starter for @venalos

It was a little rough when it came to camping in Alola.

It wasn't the weather, the people or just the general demeanor toward a trainer with no home. It was the locations.

Rocky terrain made for terrible camping grounds, as with the more densely wooded areas. But the beaches? They were often perfect, so long as it wasn't outside of Po Town with it's constant rains or if the tide ran too high.

That is if you were a fan of the water, and didn't mind constantly brushing sand out of the fur coats of your often very fluffy partners. Thus was the case with Altra. He had the Gengar tent set up on the longer strip of beach on Melemele Island. A blanket down to at least stem the sand from getting IN. Though it wouldn't stop his Zigzagoon from dragging as much in after chasing the receding waves, but it helped.

And for now, it was easily nearing midday. A few passerby's coming and going along the beach but it stayed relatively empty.

Thus it was go time for the tiny Galarian Zigzagoon. Plenty of room to run, dive into banks of sand left over my tourist-y folks..

Or in the case of Altra's eternal headache, into the water itself.

'AAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Come on lad! Ya' got ta' be faster than that!'

"Desmond can you.. will you not- I.. uhhggg..!" He huffed angrily, arms slumped at his side as he watched as the little black and white racoon plunged into the first wave to crash onto shore. Laughing his little head off.

'Ooohhhh scary water! Ooohhh no! Ahahahah!' He paddled around, short little legs only barely grazing the sand as the surf caried him just a touch closer to his trainer. And it was always a point of teasing at the teens aversion to it all.

"I don't want you to get my clothes soaked.." A huff as then Altra.. paused. Normally he'd continue scolding the Zigzagoon but something caught his attention.

'Haha.. eh.. eh-? Lad?' The sopping wet little racoon shook off his fur before padding over to his Trainer's side, noting that the teen was looking out over the water.

'See somethin'?'

".. Yeah.. I see something moving out there." Altra blinked, eyes squinting just a bit to try and get a look at what looked to be a large figure moving under the waves.

'Oh? Might be some water Pokémon, it IS the Ocean.'

"No no no.. like.. something big.." How big, he couldn't tell, but he could see something at least peering out from the water. Maybe it was distance, but it looked rather large.

'Oh... eh? Huh-'

[bloody-pony]

What I say: a book-accurate adaption of Blood Meridian into film is very much possible. Due to BM's age, published in 1985, it has accumulated nearly 4 decades' worth of interpretation, discussed and analysed in academia and in the wider public sphere. One need only, for example, search for the novel on Spotify, and they’ll be met with a wealth of playlists and albums showcasing the vastly different lenses BM's readers have applied to the novel (a personal favourite of mine is Hellenica's sythensizer-spaghetti soundtrack). This goldmine of art, writing and music, not to mention McCarthy's own prose and dialogue, should make it ridiculously easy for any director to produce a halfway acceptable film that, by and large, ought to largely appease its long-awaiting fanbase.

Most detractors for a BM film cite the novel's extreme violence, but this, imo, is the easiest part to render for the silver screen. Full Metal Jacket and Apocolypse Now prove compelling showcases of the disorganised-organised chaos of war and the violence it wroughts in the hearts of its participants, with no short supply of dark humour, and even The Passion of the Christ portrays human cruelty and suffering with unflinching affect (see Acolytes of Horror's YT video). However, as is the curse of all adaptations of grand novels into grand films *gestures to Villeneuve’s Dune series*, it will never wholly meet the expectations of its hardcore readership, because novels (but especially in BM’s case) rely so heavily—by design—on the imagination of its audience. This is a work where the sun rises "out of nothing like the head of a great red phallus", and where "little devils with their pitchforks" are thought to skitter along the mouths of volcanoes, not to mention the immortal, 7ft tall, 150kg hairless albino who traipses the pulsing red horizon in search of souls to recruit for his plight of perpetual war. How, then, can a film best capture the mythopoetic haze that stains the sands of BM? It's doable, sure (see certain shots from Ken Russell's Altered States or Tarsem Singh's The Fall for the general vibe I'm trying to get at), but like with any calamitous attempt at adapting Homer's Odyssey (not including the 1968 mini series <3), how do you make a myth concrete without clipping its wings?

Like I mentioned earlier, I think the recent Dune films (another book series that, in the wake of Lynch's 1984 adaption, was likewise once considered too dense and rich for film) have opened people up more to the idea of a BM movie, or even a whole franchise (there's certainly enough material to go around, personally I'd enjoy a duology), some may make the mistake in wanting a literal, line for line, act for act, page to screen adaptation. And, yes, thanks to McCarthy's command of plot and prose, he certainly provides material, and with a few edits here and there made for time (*cough cough* James Robert Bell/the imbecile *cough cough*), it can surely be shaped into a 20-hour masterpiece—which I would definitely enjoy—but, nevertheless, a literal adaptation still runs the assured risk of losing that blood-red shroud of mysticsm which makes the world of Blood Meridian so intoxicating. A literal adaptation would reduce it to solely a Western, but, to me, it is placed better as a Thriller (my mind always goes to Harry Powell as Robert Mitchum in The Night of the Hunter whenever I imagine the judge's speeches) or an Epic (see Aguirre, the Wrath of God) or, even better, a Horror (like Come and See). In a way, though, Blood Meridian is so vast, so fantastical, that filming it in the desert, with an endless budget to spend on fake blood and stunt horses might, strangely, prompt other failings. It's partly why I personally would rather see it not expanded but condensed, confined and made abstract, forced into sets like the kind Eiko Ishioka designed for Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters or Joel Coen's stark and foggy sets on Macbeth. Music is another tricky thing. The only person I feel could do proper justice with BM's score would be Ennio Morricone (RIP), but Johnny Greenwood is a close second, then again I'm also tempted to suggest no score at all, like with No Country for Old Men. Tarrantino's playing of 'Apple Blossom' by The White Stripes during The Hateful Eight is an interesting way of evoking theme while not adhering to a film's time period, but it's only used best in small doses.

Considering half of BM's dialogue is in Spanish, though it would be marketing suicide, it would be cool if they didn't provide subtitles during the Spanish conversations in the film, keeping in line with how non-Spanish speakers likely felt when reading the book.

Of course, we haven't even touched on the subject of the kid. A big part of the novel is how McCarthy never lets us properly gauge the extent of the kid's participation in the Glanton Gang's slaughter and debauchery. He's no angel, certainly, but his heinousness is only determined by us, the reader. A film may feel compelled to flesh the kid out in ways that undo the intentions of the novel, marketing him as sympathetic or relatable in ways that threaten BM's basis of having no likeable (or even knowable) characters. He is a blank slate that shuffles from bar to brawl, apathetic but not passive and borderline suicidal. He has few defining traits other than his dark humour and his proclivity for mindless violence which he's harboured since birth. The kid is not Paul Atreides or Luke Skywalker, nor is he Holden Caulfield or Arthur Morgan, and if he ever met any of them, he'd either tell them to fuck off or shoot them, or both. He's hardly blockbuster material.

Of course, I'd still love to see the kid portrayed on film. Casting and marketing is another area worth considering for Blood Meridian, as I am of the opinion there should be few, if any known actors cast to play the Glanton Gang. The kid, especially, should be played by a Tennessean random, to keep in line with his anonymity as a character. Glenn Fleshler would absolutely kill it as Judge Holden, going off his performance in season 1 of True Detective. I don't know why, but I always envisioned Tobin as Andy Serkis, but he's probably still far too young for the role. Whoever they'd cast, I don't want to see a single set of veneers or drop of botox. Role them in dirt if you have to, I don't care. I don't want a single member of the Glanton Gang to look like they know what Ozempic is, and cast as many Native American actors and Mexican actors as possible.

Given BM's violence and characters, I worry for the kind of audience it'll attract, media literacy being what it is these days (*gestures at the hundreds of Judge Holden edits all wildly missing the point of his "Before man was, war waited for him" speech*). With the marketing, I take issue with casts of serious films and shows doing dumb promotional content, like those Buzzfeed puppy interviews. Considering the tough subject matter of Blood Meridian, I don't see why they'd need to do anything more involved than simple, respectful interviews and panels.

In the end, Blood Meridian can obviously be made into a film and it looks like we're finally getting one, whether we like it or not. But just because you can doesn't mean you always should, and though I can't say I won't be the first in line to watch, I also can't promise it won't be without obscenely high expectations. Every director is different, and though John Hillcoat's track record with McCarthy adaptations hasn't proved all that inspiring, I am nevertheless pleased to be seeing another person's interpretation of a novel that has captured by every waking moment ever since I read it over a year ago.

What I want to say: Blood Meridian should be a ballet/dance with little to no plot à la Ravel's Boléro or Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring (and mayyybe Akram Khan’s Giselle)

[mydetheturk]

Had a bad migraine & vertigo today, decided to Project. Have Wolfwood Dealing With Vertigo and being Annoyed about it. (If it goes up on ao3 I'll make a post later💜🦑) (if you see any mistakes no you don't 💜)

~~

Wolfwood wakes with his head full of static and his limbs full of lead. He and Meryl and Vash had drank the night before, celebrating something that Wolfwood can't really remember now. All Wolfwood knows is he desperately needs to piss and he's too goddamn hot under the blanket with Meryl clinging to his back.

He tosses the blanket off, pushes himself upward, swings his legs around –

And finds himself on the floor, too dizzy to stay up.

Wolfwood wheezes at the landing. He's dense, heavy with muscle and Eye augmentations, so the landing is loud, louder than he'd ever admit.

Wolfwood is still staring at the wall in confusion when he hears a noise above him. Turning his head, he sees Meryl peeking over the side of the bed.

"Wolfwood? What happened?" She sounds just this side of freaked out, so Wolfwood tries to answer.

"Dizzy," he grunts.

He doesn't get any further when the door opens up, Vash looking panicked.

"Are both of you okay?" he yelps.

Wolfwood rolls onto his back, and while his vision doesn't swim, he's pretty sure if he tries to sit up again he's not making it. His balance is shot, and he doesn't actually know what's causing it yet. He could be dying? Maybe? He doesn't think so, is pretty sure that if he were dying there'd be a lot more bullets and he'd be vomiting up his own blood, but what does Wolfwood know, anyway?

"Nick's down," Meryl says. She pushes herself up. "Over here."

Vash carefully steps around the bed and kneels beside Wolfwood. "Hey, you okay?" he asks. He doesn't touch but he's hovering, and Wolfwood hates it, hates this weakness.

"Dizzy. Fulla lead," is what Wolfwood answers. "Help me up, gotta piss." He pushes his shoulders down, pressing his chest up into Vash's touch inhumanly hot touch. A touch like that could leave scorch marks if Vash wasn't so gentle with Wolfwood.

Vash curls his hands under Wolfwood's ribcage, scooping him up so Wolfwood is seated. He goes to press his hand to Wolfwood's forehead and hesitates. "Meryl?"

She presses her hand to Wolfwood's forehead instead. "Well he's not warm. You sure you're not hungover?" She's teasing, but she's a little serious as well.

"I think I can hold my liquor a little better than that," Wolfwood says.

Vash rumbles against Wolfwood's side, pressing their cheeks together. Wolfwood relaxes into his touch. It would have been unthinkable even six months ago. "I was going to wake the two of you," he interrupts before they can devolve into bickering. "We can't head out today."

Wolfwood makes a noise and Meryl looks at him with suspicion.

"A sandstorm hit last night," Vash explains. He rolls up to his feet, pulling Wolfwood with him as though Wolfwood weighs nothing. "Spoke to the innkeeper about keeping our room until it passes through." Wolfwood's sense of balance is a little too shot right now to smack Vash for it, but Meryl pokes Vash in the side for him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know. But it's a pretty bad one. Another group checked in just before it hit, apparently. Storm was full of lightning."

Ah.

Wolfwood isn't dying.

Wolfwood is just suffering the other side effects of the Eye's experiments. Too sharp senses were one thing – and now that Vash has pointed it out, Wolfwood can hear the sand rattling against the shutters – and he can usually cope with them using his sunglasses, ear plugs he'd stolen from a former colleague's team, and a steady stream of cigarettes and/or suckers.

The way sandstorms on Noman's Land blow through towns – and during the time of the year they're most common – ruins Wolfwood's balance. He doesn't think the doctors ever got a clear answer for that one, just knows it happened way back at Hopeland too. It irritated Chapel to no end, that his star pupil was so debilitated by the sandstorms. Wolfwood always had to be careful during sandstorm season, and even during the off seasons, pushing himself beyond his limits to keep Chapel's approval.

Wolfwood grunts.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry." Vash shifts Wolfwood so that he can get Wolfwood's arm over his shoulders. "Water closet?"

"'Water closet.' You're so old fashioned," Wolfwood scoffs. 

Meryl titters a little but sits up properly, now fully awake. "What time is it even?" she asks. "It feels early but…" 

It's dark in their hotel room. It's probably the sandstorm, though, and Wolfwood is glad they're in a town.

"Late enough I got most of my morning routine done," Vash says. "You two were exhausted. We can get breakfast in a bit."

He lets Vash help him to the bathroom of their inn room, takes a few minutes to recompose himself. Wolfwood's not eating, not this morning. He should, and he will, but that's a later problem. The lump caught in his throat from the vertigo won't let him, nor does he think he'll be able to keep it down. He might be able to manage some porridge or maybe toast if the inn's tavern has any bread this morning.

Meryl's mostly dressed by the time Wolfwood's recomposed himself, and Vash used the communal showers before coming back into their room, so he's clean & freshly dressed as well.

Wolfwood's the problem today. As much as it chafes, he lets them help him suit up. Usually it's the other way round, stripping one another of their clothes, trying not to tear anything in their haste.

Their hands still linger on Wolfwood's skin, though, Meryl circling her hands around Wolfwood's biceps to buckle his sleeve garters, and Vash feeling him up while tucking in his shirt, chest to back with Wolfwood. 

It has him a little on edge, but his limbs are full of lead and he can't move without swaying. He's glad he doesn't have to hide this weakness from them, that they care for him despite it.

Wolfwood is dreading the stairs to the first floor. He's grateful they're only on the second – this inn has three.

"Ready to brave the rest of the inn?" Vash asks. He and Meryl are on either side of Wolfwood, Vash's arm slung behind his shoulders and Meryl's arm around Wolfwood's hips.

Wolfwood grunts. He's not. He's going to, but he's not.

Meryl headbutts his ribs lightly. "Half an hour? Then we can come back up and cuddle?" she offers.

"I reserve the right to kick one of you in the shin to get me back up here if my head starts acting up," Wolfwood says. He'll kick Vash in the shin. Lightly, cause he doesn't actually want to hurt Vash, nor does Wolfwood think his shoes could actually do the Plant any damage, but he'll do it.

Vash chuckles and nuzzles Wolfwood's jaw as though he knows Wolfwood's plans. Fucker. "Alright. Let's get you downstairs and get some food in you?"

Wolfwood crinkles his nose. "If you do." Vash makes a face, sharp teeth bared for the room to see. "Needle-noggin, I swear to God."

"If you take something for your vertigo," Vash says lightly, his eyes flashing a deeper than usual blue. "We should have something that'll work in the first aid kit, you just need to eat first."

Wolfwood narrows his eyes. He knows what meds Vash is talking about, and hates how much more like lead his body feels when he takes them.

They shouldn't have to run, though. They're going to be downstairs for half an hour and then right back up here. Wolfwood is going to be useless if they had to run anyway, body made of lead and head stuffed full of worms.

He concedes the point. "Fine."

"Wonderful. Let's go before they stop serving breakfast foods." Meryl tugs on Wolfwood's waist, just a bit, unbalancing him slightly. He overcorrects, landing in Vash's arms.

Vash scoops Wolfwood up entirely while Wolfwood tries to get his vision to stop swirling and his stomach to settle. "Looks like I'm carrying you today," Vash teases.

"Fucker," Wolfwood breathes. He clings to Vash and buries his face in Vash's neck, ignoring how Meryl coos at him.

Vash chitters in his throat for a couple of seconds and then moves, and it takes everything in Wolfwood's training to not tense up against Vash and to stay limp to make it easier on him. The stairs are a harrowing nightmare that Wolfwood almost – almost – demands to be put down upon arriving at. But Vash just rearranges Wolfwood and carries him down.

Meryl makes an appreciative noise at the sight.

Wolfwood flips her off.

Vash settles Wolfwood at a table while Meryl hurries to the bar to get them breakfast – thomas eggs, something like the grits Wolfwood ate at Hopeland, and some sort of vegetation that might have actually been grown. He gets down most of the grits Meryl got for him, and all of the vegetation. The eggs he passes on to Vash with a pathetic look. Vash stares unblinking at him for a minute before accepting them. Wolfwood supposed one of them has to eat today, and he can't get much more than what he's managed.

An extra bowl of grits makes its way to their table and Wolfwood eyes them suspiciously.

"I might have mentioned you being ill to the innkeeper's daughter," Meryl admits. "You'll need it later, Nick."

Nick can't say no to that, so he slumps in the chair and Vash pats his back, hand lingering between Wolfwood's shoulder blades.

"Alright," Vash says, "back to the room to cuddle?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Yep."

Vash gets Wolfwood back upstairs while Meryl dips into their collective hotel money stash to pay for breakfast, bringing the extra bowl up with her.

When she makes it back up, Wolfwood is on the bed and Vash is digging through the first aid kit.

Wolfwood's already kicked his shoes off, and she does the same before sitting on the bed beside his hips.

"How's your head?" she asks.

Wolfwood has his arm slung over his face. He wiggles his free hand.

"Almost fell back down the stairs," Vash pipes up. Wolfwood flips him off. "But we got in here no problem. Could you fill a glass while I dig?"

Meryl fills a glass half-full with water from their tiny bathroom sink and sets it on the table beside the bed. She's down for cuddles as soon as Vash can get the meds into Wolfwood.

Vash emerges victorious, holding up a small vial with a label on the side in Wolfwood's handwriting that just says Vertigo.

Wolfwood sighs, and lets Meryl pull him up so he can drink his water and take a couple of pills.

"Hate this," he grumbles. "Hate how heavy this shit makes me feel."

Meryl kisses his forehead. "We've got you," she says. She and Vash lay him down, Meryl tucked in on one side and Vash tucked in on the other.

"Let us take care of you for once," Vash adds. Wolfwood bares his teeth, but melts into the bed once both of them are settled. Vash noses the side of his neck. "Rest, Nico. If something happens, we'll bring you with us."

"Dead weight and all," Meryl says. She fists one hand in Wolfwood's shirt, wrinkling the fabric. Wolfwood grunts, arms a little trapped but he's out fast enough. Meryl slides back into sleep soon after, content that Vash is keeping watch. 

Vash purrs, rhythmic and slow as the sandstorm rages on.

[razorblade180]

Unreal

Wanting to take a look at her land, Nahida climbs up The Great Tree for a marvelous view. It’s only when she reaches the top down she realize Aether is up there too.

Nahida:Oh? Have the two of us shared the same idea tonight? *sits*

Aether:If that’s true then I should count myself lucky I think like The God of Wisdom. Hehe, I’m just up here to take everything in since I’ll be leaving soon.

Nahida:You’re always welcome. This land and its people owe more than a thanks to you. As do I.

Aether:You all have given more than enough. From important information to a strangely addictive card game. This place has been something else.

Nahida:Is that so? Paimon mentioned how each nation gives a different sense of familiarity or emotion.

Aether:Yeah. Mondstadt is home no matter what. I feel at ease and maybe a little too relaxed there.

Nahida:Everyone needs a home, and that’s where your journey began. It’s only natural. How about Liyue?

Aether:That’s…a weird one. I have plenty of friends there and it is a place where things are said to settle. For some reason though, it feels the most foreign to me. I can always take a trip to Liyue but it really is a feeling of passing through.

Nahida:That’s interesting. Maybe I should visit sometime? I’ve been told there’s plenty of ruins and historical sights, as if the entire nation itself is a well preserved historical artifact!

Aether:I think that’s a way more interesting perspective than what I said, but you’re right. Maybe that has something to do with it? More often than not it does feel like I’m on a knowledgeable expedition. Not that I’m not looking for answers all the time, but man, Liyue is kinda dense and rigid.

Nahida:Sounds like geo.

Aether:Can’t argue with that. Anyways, it’s a completely different feeling from Inazuma. Although Mondstadt is home, there’s a sense of belonging I get in Inazuma; as if it makes sense to be there.

Nahida:I’m not quite sure I follow.

Aether:Well…I think it’s the people, as well as the intense conditions the nation has. It always feels like someone is doing their best to prove why they’re right where they need to be; foreigner or otherwise.

Nahida:Ah, so it’s sorta like a feeling of mutual respect? You never question exactly why someone is there because you already know it’s to prove something. That feeling is probably enhanced by the fact you’re technically enlisted in an army.

Aether:If you can survive Inazuma, then you’re welcome in Inazuma. From Ei all the way to Itto, I feel like I fit in. I like it. Not to mention even the more abandoned spots seem to have found their own way of belonging.

Nahida:I guess I should be thankful you made it through a place that steeled you the way it did. So then Aether, now that you’ve so much of Sumeru, what is it to you?

He had to think on it for a moment as the breeze flowed the branches. Aether thought of the first time he stood of shifting sand dunes to gaze at ancient civilizations, experienced the lush greenery through pouring rain, and found places he could never describe without having been there first hand.

Aether:Sumeru is unreal, in almost every since of the word. Nothing feels fundamentally impossible, yet at the same time I was always surprised at something that made me ask “how is that even possible?” I ended up in places I didn’t expect and helped start things that felt way out of my depth! I mean just look at the pyramid, and the hydro tree across the desert! Even the people here weren’t what I expected. They feel grand despite many occupations being common here. Sumeru may be The Nation of Wisdom, but to me its more like-

Nahida:A massive dream? *smiles*

Aether:Yep, like a massive fantasy book with stories stitched together. It’s been fun. Even during the stressful parts I never felt like I couldn’t pull through.

Nahida:They say everyone is the main character of their own story, but I have to admit I felt captivated by yours as if you actually took the role. Imagine if you suddenly woke up right now?

Aether:Please don’t say things like that. Not after what we’ve dealt with.

Nahida:Heh, yeah I would probably panic. Thankfully, we are as real as ever. I’m flattered this place can be your living dream. Come back anytime. I love a good story.

Aether:As long as none of them are titled “The Revenge of Apep”

Nahida:How about… “A Birthday Fit for a God”

Aether:*smiles* I’ll be there. After all, The First Sage of Buer would love to celebrate such an occasion.

Nahida:You really love that title, don’t you?

Aether:I’ll be honest, losing to Wanderer after hearing that was not an option. I would’ve thought of a plan myself if I had to!

Nahida:Hehe, well I hope your next title is just as grand. Safe journeys to Fontaine.

xxxxx

Paimon:*gripping jail bars* Please help us get out!

Yanfei:Well it’s nice to see one of you taking this seriously.

Aether: *playing harmonica* I’m coping. Also I know someone who’s gonna get a kick out of this story.

[fadelbison]

Preview: Can You Blow My Mind Chapter 3

Hello, I've decided to create some anarchy and release a central scene from the final chapter of my divorce sandray fic. This scene is meant to be the 'striking of the matchstick' moment. The point that everything starts to go down in flames and it will happen quick. I think I've been stressed about this feeling rushed because the destruction and resolution that comes hereafter is dense. It's an alarmingly short chapter 😭 Generally, when I'm this anxious I will ask @patrice-bergerons to beta and even though I trust him with my whole heart, I think the issue is that I know this is how I want to write it askjdfshfk despite aforementioned pitfalls. Anyway let me know what you guys think Tagging @kattyangel because this is their gift fic, so they have no choice but to be subjected to it (don't worry bb this is not the angstiest part this is pre-angst) 😘

-------------

When they separate for air, Sand doesn’t let Ray stray far, sharing breath with their foreheads pressed together. Ray smiles shyly, ‘You’re in a good mood.’ He comments as Sand peppers little kisses across his ears. Ray lets himself get kissed again for a few minutes longer, hooking his arms around Sand’s neck to pull him closer, “Did the lawyers finally file the papers?” Sand’s hands are already on his waist and sneaking underneath the tie of his bathrobe, gently prying it loose, “Not yet, baby.” He answers.

Ray hums, a smudge more serious, “Isn’t it taking kind of long? Is it my lawyer causing issues? I’ve already instructed him to agree to your full terms. I can have another chat with him.”

Sand shakes his head, a lick of shame creeping up his neck as he says, “It’s just bureaucratic back and forth. There’s always another form to fill and you know it’s concert prep season. I’ve been out of the office a lot scouting locations.” It sounds like a garbled mess of excuses to his ears but Ray nods solemnly.

Ray pouts at him for a little before he smiles with a click of his tongue, “You don’t have to be so disappointed. After all, this is kind of fun right?” Ray squeezes the back of his neck, the way he does when they make out and it’s like a shot to his spine, the sensation tingling down his back, “You don’t have to think too hard about the properties. If just keeping them in your name saves us some time, then go for it. I trust you.” Ray’s smile is sweet, the atmosphere sticky with the desire building between them, Sand’s fingers digging into the soft fabric of his robe so close to deliciously warm skin. And yet.

“With money.”

“Hmm?” Ray responds, light and flirtatious still unaware of the storm brewing.

“You trust me with money.”

“Of course-”

“But not to stay faithful.”

[alexius-fr]

Martyrs Waste Chapter 1: Dust and Ash

Sanguine, Silas and Khadiyah travel to the Waste to find Nerissa

_______________________________

The air was thick here, much more so than they had been used to before. Dense fog hid the land below them in a mystery of red and orange hues with the occasional sickly green bioluminescence shining through dimly. But the smell was familiar to Sanguine, who had always belonged here, no matter how far he had tried to run from that truth.

“How much farther?”

“We’ll get there when we get there!”

Silas wailed a pitiful cry of woe is me. “But my wings hurt!”

“Oh shush, you’ll be right at home there.” Khadiyah laughed as she ridiculed her mate. Sanguine, who flew ahead of them, couldn’t help but laugh.

“True, it is called the Martyrs Waste after all.” he chimed in, always down for a little jab at his dear brother. Silas groaned and rolled his eyes. “You two have no empathy! I’m getting old, you know!”

“Sanguine is older than you and he has not complained.” Khadiyah reminded Silas.

“Because we haven’t gone very far!” Sanguine agreed, picking up the pace to show his point. He might have been older, but he hadn’t lost his form yet. In fact, he probably looked healthier than he ever had. Years of Rowan’s care and love had left him in peak physical and mental shape. His hide was shiny, blood red and healthy despite it’s many scars. His wings beat as strongly as ever, his spikes were sharp and his eyesight- well, that was perhaps a little questionable, but it was good enough.

Sanguine saddened a bit at the thought of Rowan. His old mate had returned to the Wasteland’s embrace recently, ‘to slumber with the Plague Mother until they would be reunited and reborn together’, or so Rowan had phrased it. But Sanguine still had a part to play, lessons to teach and learn, and so here he was, honouring Rowan’s last request.

Go see Nerissa.

Apologize to her for pushing her away. She strove for his acceptance and he had cast her out. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of doing this himself, but always there was something that would stop him from going, an excuse, a child that needed him more, an injury that prevented him from going, he had to hunt for food for them all, etcetera etcetera. And recently, taking care of Rowan had taken all his focus. Now though, there was nothing to justify not going any more. Rowan was gone, all his children had flown the nest. It was time he made amends with Nerissa, to avoid becoming his mother. To avoid her making the same mistakes he did.

Silas and Khadiyah had offered to accompany him, curious to see their niece once again. They had heard of her clan in the Martyrs Waste, an area that had been the site of many a battle in the past, not in the least between the Mother and her mortal enemy, the Gladekeeper. It was a place of great infamy, where Plague’s toughest dragons battled each other for the right to survive. Those who died in battle there were named martyr to the Plague Mother, though Sanguine was sceptical of this practice himself.

“There, the rock that looks like a mushroom!” Silas called with relief. “Finally!”

Sanguine said nothing, feeling nervous as they descended through the thick fog, Sand particles swept up into his face and battered his hide before they reached the floor, dust and sand kicking up as the three of them landed not far from their landmark. Though the air was thick, it felt welcoming as Sanguine breathed in deep, the scent of home.

Silas was also taking deep breaths, though it was more like he was gasping for air.

“Mother save me, I can’t breathe with this thick fog and sand in my nostrils!” he complained.

“Don’t be dramatic.” Khadiyah frowned and swept her tail up to whirl an extra load of sand Silas’ way. Silas coughed when he got some in his mouth, covering his face with his wing while Khadiyah laughed wickedly.

Sanguine took no notice of their antics behind him, taking in the environment. A huge rock formation towered before them, shaped somewhat like a mushroom. Specks of green luminescence shimmer through the dust, some kind of fungus? The sun behind the rock cast a large shadow through the sand and the fog, but it’s heat was still present, warming Sanguine’s deep red hide. He strode forwards carefully, looking around with purpose for a sign of any dragons other than them. So far, nothing. He turned his head to Silas and Khadiyah.

“Quiet you two. We have to consider the possibility we are not welcome here.” he reminded them.

“Right, because you were rude to her.” Silas said, deadpan. Khadiyah grinned in unison with Silas, like the little shit she was. “He’s got a point.”

Sanguine sighed, quietly shaking his head before moving ahead.

A natural arch big enough to accommodate a large Guardian stood before them, but beyond that he could see nothing but a turmoil of swirling sand. Still, he knew he was in the right place. He could smell his daughter’s distinct scent, sense her presence.

“Stay here.”

Sanguine said the words to Silas and Khadiyah sternly, then proceeded into the thick wall of red sand before him. It battered him, blinded him, all of those things he had expected, but he had not expected the fluorescent green light to pierce through the sand as if a great eye had locked it’s gaze upon him.

The green light was just enough to project a silhouette through the dust on top of the rock. It was far away, but Sanguine recognized the silhouette as an Aberration dragon. When she spoke, it sounded like two voices at once spoke in unison, echoing between the rocky walls.

“I knew you would come.”