#yes i am susceptible to sirens

[curetapwater]

Naked ladies lounging by a body of water is one of the best genres of painting. Yes I'm biased and yes I would be highly susceptible to siren song. I am gay.

[elwynwanderer]

I keep seeing this on my dash, and I have So Many thoughts about Kain that I really want to pitch in on this discussion, even though I'm about three months late to the party.

My first experience with FFIV was the Pixel Remaster, and my partner got into the SNES version via Wayrift, which has been ongoing since 2002, several years before the DS remake. So in both of our cases our main exposure to Kain Highwind came from the original script, graphics, and character designs, without that opening cinematic and edgy black and purple armor to bias us. And we both interpreted his character as a playful jock with a kind of "big brother" energy, who then becomes more grim and reserved after the whole brainwashing thing. (The very first fight I had him back in my party he got charmed by an enemy siren, so it became an inside joke between me and my wife that he was just A Regular Guy who was extra susceptible to brainwashing. :P) It was absolutely bizarre the first time I searched up FFIV fanfic and found that the popular perception of Kain Highwind was as a badboy loner.

So yes, I am a proponent of jocky Team Dad Kain Highwind. I have embraced the edgy loner persona as well (Team Dad is unfortunately also a Milk Buyer), but it's very important to me whenever I write him that there's still a trace of that playfulness from before.

Hey FFIV fans, do you ever think about:

• Kain Highwind actually talks a fair bit at the start of the game, was ready to interrupt the meeting with the king, readily gives Cecil unasked for emotional support, and despite holding in his love for Rosa for at least some time, once shit hits the fan he almost immediately blurts it out in Mist

whereas

• Cecil sometimes even late in the game has a real hard time collecting his thoughts and saying them out loud. He freezes up in personal interactions with Golbez and just sorta . . . follows Fusoya's lead on the moon. Our first glimpse of him is brooding on the Red Wings airship and he doesn't say anything to his upset men until they are actively questioning their orders, a big deal in a military to even reach that point. He always moves on quickly to the next goal in conversations (as much just limited dialogue constraints on the SNES but you know). People in Baron were afraid of him as a Dark Knight and Cid and Rosa have to seek him out to get him to talk

and

• the Baron monarchy seems to be elective. Kain has his own inheritance from his biodad. That's the sharp difference between Kain and Cecil's beginning as young men - Cecil has only what the King is able and willing to give him. And the dragoons are a long and storied order, but using dark knights is new for Baron and makes everybody uncertain. Kain ends up angsting over his connection to his dad at the end of the game but he seems emotionally centered with it in the opening, enough that Cecil comments he envies him and Kain doesn't say that's weird of him to feel. And Rosa's mom apparently liked Kain for Rosa instead of Cecil

so . . . it may be that . . . Kain and Cecil before the game starts are the inversion of their popular archetypes that creep into a lot of fan portrayals of them, my own included! Fun! Cecil was the awkward brooding loner and Kain the open, communicative golden child at court. Then everything goes to hell in a handbasket and we see them switch over the course of the game

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the mermay fills: indruck, 25, any rating

Here you go! I went with SFW for this one.

The thing no one tells you about journeys of self-discovery is that they’re really fucking boring.

Duck’s been on this highway for days, and another highway for the days before that. He wanted to see the desert in the spring, but it’s involved fewer super-blooms and more butterflies dying on his windshield than he hoped.

Now he’s on some two lane strip of barely paved road in the vast expanse between Las Vegas and Reno. Green catches his eye to his left; a ribbon of well-watered trees shines in the distance. Closer to the road are dueling picket signs shoved into the ground, some demanding the preservation of the tiny pocket of wetlands and others proclaiming this the site of the Hungry Man Casino expansion. The signs continue all the way to the tiny town of Kepler, where he pulls into a gas station in front of Tarkesian’s General Store.

After filling the tank and chatting with the owner and his incongruous New York accent, Duck decides to stop in Kepler for the night. The road north is mostly open range, and he’s already had one near miss with a cow on a pitch black stretch of asphalt. The lone place to rest is the Reconciliation Motel Court and Casino. He gets his key, pulls up to the chipped door, and flops onto the burnt orange bedspread for a nap.

He doesn’t wake up until eight at night, wondering what the hell is wrong with the other guests that they’re all playing music loud enough for him to hear. He counts at least six separate voices, their overlap meaning the lyrics turn to gibberish. It’s still hot and stuffy in the room, and maybe outside will be quiet. He pulls on his swim trunks and rash guard; a peek out the window at the pool shows it’s empty and that, plus the general sparseness of the parking lot, makes him confident enough that he won’t bump into anyone and try to make up some lie about being shy or mormon or whatever the hell else would explain a dude keeping a top on to swim.

But, just his luck, when he latches the pool gate shut, he discovers he’s not alone. A man with silver hair floats in the pool, eyes closed. When Duck sets a towel on the chair, his eyes fly open and he dives under the water, giving Duck twin shocks: glowing red eyes and a long, jet black tail.

“What the fuck?” He says aloud in case someone else is watching and can explain why there’s a fucking mermaid in the pool.

The merman resurfaces, blinking at him, “How in the world did you get in here?”

“Uhhhh…” Duck points to the gate.

“You...you see the pool? Do you see the motel as well?”

Duck turns, wondering if this is some kind of prank, “yeah?”

“Apologies” the merman swims to the edge of the pool nearest him, “it was such an unlikely future I am having a hard time processing it.”

“You’re havin a hard time”

“Oh, oh of course, this is all very confusing to you. Here, have a seat.” He gestures to one of the pool chairs. Not knowing what else to do, Duck sits.

“Now, have you heard singing while you have been here?”

“Yep. Thought it was the other guests.”

The merman shakes his head, “They are sirens. As am I. We are the descendants of sirens who lived here in the days when there was far more water in this area. As the water dwindled, we made our home in that river and wetlands” he points towards the south end of town, “and then the founders of this fine establishment decided to catch us and use us to lure people to their rundown casino. Since you are about to ask, a siren song shows you what you want; turns out many people want the promise of easy money, food, or sex. But you...somehow you do not seem to respond to it.”

Duck shrugs, “Guess not.”

“I wonder...hmm, perhaps you do not want anything?”

“Don’t think that’s it. Been drivin up and down the country lookin for somethin I want but can’t name.”

The merman rests his arms on the concrete, “You must tell me everything about your travels.”

“I mean, uh, they ain’t all that excitin-”

“I have been stuck in this pool for three years.”

“Okay yeah, more excitin than that. Also, what the fuck?”

“There are ones like it in almost all the lower level rooms. I get stuck out here because I will not sing, but due to having future sight I am too valuable to do away with.”

“This ain’t gettin less fucked up.”

The merman laughs, “Perhaps that is why you don’t fall prey to our song; you are just very honest.”

“That a nice way of sayin I can’t lie for shit?”

“I suppose so.” He grins, sharp teeth glinting in the yellow streetlights, “regardless, I am glad you are not susceptible. I haven’t spoken to anyone aside from the owners in months. They even keep me from my own kind.” His tone is breezy, but Duck sees the flash of pain in his eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“Indrid. Yours?”

“Can’t you see it comin?” He teases.

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it. I get ahead of others often enough as it is.”

“Duck. It’s a nickname.”

Indrid flips his tail once, “Care to join me for an evening swim, Duck.”

“You ain’t gonna eat me or anythin, right?”

“I only taste humans when offered” His tail undulates hypnotically as he pushes into deeper water. Then he pauses, “that was meant as flirtation and not as a threat.”

Duck slides into the water, smiling when he meets Indrid’s nervous gaze “Yeah, I got that.”

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

“See, you can tell it’s a saguaro because--fuck” the camera slips from Duck’s hand, only for Indrid’s to shoot out and catch it before it hits the water.

“Thanks, ‘Drid, startin’ to wonder what I’d do without you.”

The mer, cheek resting on the warm concrete, shifts sideways so he can bump Duck’s knee with his forehead, “The feeling is mutual.”

For the last two weeks Duck’s stayed at the motel, watching his fellow occupants walk zombie-like through doors or stagger from them in a daze when their money runs out and the owners kick them to the curb to make way for new targets. Following Indrid’s instructions, he delivers messages between the trapped sirens, the kind they dare not sing aloud, brings them things they’re missing, like favorite foods or things to do, when he can manage it.

He’s also careful to spend time in town, away from any lingering influence of the siren songs. Leo Tarkesian gives him a job in the store, and he strikes up a friendship with a woman going by the name of Mama, who comes in once a week with beautiful wood carvings for Leo to set out for sale. It turns out her family used to own the motel before Reconciliation swooped in and stole it in what Mama insists was an illegal move.

“Worst part is, they crowed about creatin jobs, bringin’ in more tourists. But they won’t let no one outside their inner circle work there, and folks who stop never leave and visit the rest of town. Now they’re gunnin for the state park. But they ain’t gonna get away with it this time.”

More than anything, Duck spends his time with Indrid. The siren tells him stories about life in the wetlands and river, Duck tells him about his travels, about his home, talks with him until the stars come out, would stay until they go away again except the mer tells him he needs his sleep.

Indrid is a very encouraging conversation partner, disdain and aloofness only appearing when he has to speak to the owners of the motel. He’s also very affectionate, resting his head in Duck’s lap or winding his tail around him whenever he stands in the water. Which is why, when he asks Duck if he’s made up his mind about what to do come fall, his fingers are stroking the humans back and his tail is lazily petting his legs.

“I dunno. I could go back and finish my degree, become a ranger and all that. But what if I’m only doin that because I feel like it’s what I’m supposed to do?”

Indrid brushes Duck’s hair from his forehead, “When you think of the future where you meet that goal, how do you feel.”

“Happy. Content. Like, like there’s a thing I can do to keep the world healthy and whole. Sometimes I feel like I’m supposed to be out there savin the world, solvin every problem, makin everythin better. And that’s too damn much. But when I think about havin some forest or park or somethin where part of my job is to care for it, help it grow...yeah, think I could do that.” He smiles at the image of his future self those words conjure.

Indrid smiles at the current him, brushes their noses together, “It seems to me that you have your answer.”

Duck loops his arms around Indrid’s waist, “Then again, could just stay here, look after you and the other sirens forever.”

Chlorine stings his eyes as Indrid zips backwards, looking as if he’s been slapped.

“‘Drid? What’s wrong?”

“You cannot stay here any longer.”

“What do you mean? I wanna stay. I wanna be with you.”

“No! Don’t you see? This is how the song gets you. It is making you think that your greatest wish is to stay in this crumbling motel, looking after a siren who has seen better days.”

“Hold the fuck on” Duck tries to swim to him, only for Indrid to swim further out of reach, “‘Drid, it’s real fuckin insultin to tell a fella that the only reason he feels how he feels is because of a magic song. Maybe I am startin to feel the effects, but I know that when I think about you, no matter how near or far to this fuckin pool I am, I wanna be with you. I’ve fallen in love before, I can recognize the feelin from a mile away. And it’s what I’m feelin now.” He crosses his arms, daring Indrid to argue.

The siren swims to him, cups his face in cool hands, “It’s what I feel too. Why do you think I cannot ask you to stay? I am a prisoner here, Duck. If you remain for my sake, you will be one as well. I cannot do that to you. I know the agony of being cut off from the world you love, and you have so much love yet to give it I cannot, will not, rob you of the chance to do so.”

“I…” Duck he mirrors Indrid’s touch, runs his thumbs along his cheeks.

“Please” Indrid kisses him once, softly, “please, if you love me, don’t stay here and make me watch you decay.”

Duck pulls Indrid as close as he can, kisses him until his lips ache and the siren is pliant and purring in his arms.

“I’ll go. I fuckin hate the idea of leavin you here, but I’ll go.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s just one thing you gotta let me do first. Will you let me introduce you to another human? She’s got almost as much cause to hate Reconciliation as you do, and I got a hunch you two might be able to help each other out.”

Indrid cocks his head, then nods, “Of course, my love. Just tell her to wear earplugs and bring something to write on.”

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

The cottonwoods rustle in the summer breeze as Indrid floats lazily down the river on his back. A family is picnicking outside the visitor center, but only the youngest member of it sees him. She waves. He raises his tail in reply, smiling when she spills her drink in delight.

Most sirens give the heavily trafficked parts of the park a wide berth, still wary of interactions with humans. Indrid doesn’t blame them; Reconciliation was chased out ten years ago, but their memory lingers like smog. He himself stays clear of unfamiliar groups of humans whenever possible.

But today, the futures show him the park is welcoming a new ranger. And so he swims back and forth, hoping the recent arrival will see him. Hoping he remembers.

“I’m sorry sir, but swimmin ain’t allowed in this chunk of the river.” A teasing drawl drifts over his shoulder.

He spins in what he hopes is an elegant way, accidentally splashing the figure on the bank behind him.

“Of course.” He grins, swimming over and resting his arms on the bank and batting his eyelashes as the ranger crouches down to meet him, “how very rude of me. I am terribly sorry.”

Duck’s smile is brimming with years of stored up affection, the lines on his face hinting at stories Indrid cannot wait to hear, “S’okay. For my favorite roadside siren, I’m happy to make an exception.”

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 110

Adriana stood outside of the facility. Very clever they were, disguising it as a maximum security juvenile prison. No one would listen to the children if one of them broke programming. No one would believe them if they were told the child had done nothing wrong to get put in this facility, had in fact been born in this facility, and were being trained to be perfect human soldiers.

How Adriana hated humans. They were disgusting creatures, willing to use anything they wanted to get ahead. No, the only way to succeed would be to populate the world with her lovely creatures. They had the instincts that humanity had forced down, denied, and were the next wave of sentience in the world.

One of her lovely creatures moved up behind her as she eyed the facility. The chain-linked fence would provide no obstacle for her army. Same for the curled barbed wire at the top. Her creatures were not susceptible to the same things that would leave terrible wounds on humans. Not that she intended for them to go over, oh no.

She intended to make a statement. She was going to destroy them. Hopefully when she was done with this place people would think twice about what they were doing before trying something like this again.

They would try it again, of course. Humans always did.

There was no outward reaction from the facility as she approached it. Of course there wasn’t; she knew what she looked like. She was thin, petite, and pale from all the time she spent underground. She looked weak, maybe even sickly to their untrained eyes. She did not look like a threat.

She stopped a mere two feet away from the fence and glared at the yard inside. In one corner she could see the charred remains of play equipment and her lip curled as she looked at the gray brick facade of the building in front of her.

They were just like the people her parents had sent her to, to “cure” her of her powers. Well, they would meet the same fate; she would see to that. A single twist of her will and one of her creatures, a gorgeous mottled brown, reached around her, gripped two links of the fence, and pulled.

The previously silent building began to wail with sirens as the first fence was breached. Her lovely, wonderful creatures streamed into the gap and easily (with more ease now that she wasn’t in the way) breached the second fence. She calmly strode through. Her creatures knew what to do.

Sweet, delicious screams reached her ears as those fools tried to kill her darlings with bullets—but she’d learned. Their exoskeletons were now tough, almost impenetrable. Her babies were safe enough with the mere humans in charge of this place.

Soon the first of them returned, carrying a struggling human in its grip. She tilted her head as she considered the sacrifice in front of her. Was it worthy? Would the venom take? She smiled as two fangs slid out of the nearly invisible sheaths in her gums and began slowly releasing the venom she used to create her creatures. The human, clad in a white coat, began to struggle and scream as it took in the site of her fangs.

Did the human know what was about to happen to it? Or was it just reacting with the fear all mammals instinctively had for five-inch long fangs? She’d find out soon enough.

Her creature forced the human to the ground and, carefully gripping the head with one hand and the shoulder with the other, forced the human to bare its neck as she stepped forwards. Her fangs sank into the skin and muscle of the neck with a satisfying feeling and she felt some of her venom, pent up from lack of use recently, being injected into the human. She stopped releasing the venom and pulled her fangs out when the human began to go limp. Her creature dropped the human and, following the silent command, went back into the facility.

The moon had risen and was bathing the facility in a forgiving silver light when her creatures finished with the adults in the facility. The first of the humans was already turning, gaining the lovely colors that would grace its new form. To her left, guarded by a ring of her creatures, were those who were lacking. Those who were unacceptable. Those who would, before the night was over, die.

“What do you want with us?” demanded one with a white coat.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” growled another in a dark blue uniform.

Adriana ignored the humans. They were not worth her time—but someone else was. She waited, patiently, for her last creature to return with its burden.

There! She shifted forwards eagerly as her creature, carrying the wide-eyed child, came towards her. Yes, this was the one. The one she’d meant to find. The yellow eyes stared at her in fear.

“Oh, no,” said Adriana gently as she walked towards the child. “You don’t have to be scared,” she added as she got closer.

“You—you’re like me,” whispered the child, the little girl.

Adriana smiled. “I am,” she told the girl confidently. “And you’re like me.”

The girl looked around. “You—made them?” she asked.

“I did. Look there.” Adriana pointed towards the humans that were changing. “Soon they will be wonderful beauties as well.”

“What about them?” asked the girl as she pointed to the group of humans in a ring.

Adriana hummed thoughtfully. “They don’t have the—ability to become better,” she told the child. She reached over and gently ran her fingers through the sweat-soaked, matted hair. They’d have to fix that later. “What do you think should happen to them?” she asked the child.

The child’s gaze hardened with hatred. “I think they should die,” she snarled. “Horribly.”

Adriana smiled and turned back to the group. “Then that,” she said with satisfaction, “is exactly what will happen.”

Neither Adriana nor the child looked away as the creatures surrounding the humans darted into the circle and began eating them alive.

[katewaliss]

! write with me or fight with me!

you either die by my sword or the most painful head canons imaginable! *merida vc* choose yer fate

just kidding!

 hey there gaymers, i am crissy! i am 22, live in pst, go by she/her pronouns and honestly would very much like a distraction from life -- preferably in the form of 1x1 and rp in general. i am currently doing online school plus trying/failing at adulting, being a crazy pink haired college student living on microwave dimsum with my crazy fluffy demon cat, but that still leaves me with a lot of time and what better way to spend that time then crying and dying, am i right, boys? 

so without further ado ( adieu? idk gusundheit ) here are a list of discomboblulated plot things that have been floating around in my head that i might be fun to do ( plot fragments, ideas, ocs, fcs i like, settings, genres etc )! i’d prefer a message if u liked any of these in the inbox or dm form, my tumblr ims are open and my discord user is mr. worldwide#2918 ( pitbull supremacy ) but if ur shy i will message u and be annoying! 

lastly: i prefer hcing in the dms to replies, however i will do replies/ask memes slowly, i don’t really like making blogs and prefer google docs/discord and i ask ( gently and respectfully ) that minors do not interact.

thank u and happy hunger games! xx

COLLEGE TOTALLY SPIES -- i was really obsessed with this picture right here and i thought that the picture would be a good premise for a little four person group based on totally spies. i was thinking that these three college students/young adults some friends maybe not some enemies or just on completely different ends of the social agenda get bonded together when they accidentally end up roped in a top secret spy organization that is fronted by a record store. the details and flesh of the plot i think would be cute to figure out all together maybe in a google doc or a big discord so we can make the rp to perfect world building specifications. right now i have two spots open! 

my friend lexi over at comradc has taken the cool goth asian girl and is using lyrica okano

i am playing the freckly backwards hat lesbian in the red polo named aj mccallis and i think im using diana silvers ( not sure might switch to tati rodriguez )

we also have the cute blond girl w the dyed hair who is giving me kind of like sydney sweeney energies, blonde girl maybe like lalisa manoban/jinsoul,

and we have the rad black girl with the bandids who i would only accept black fcs for for such as diamond white, ryan destiny, salem mitchell, 

i’d prefer if this stayed kind of sapphic and female and enby friendly. we can def make make npcs and characters but i’d prefer if the characters looked like they do in the picture ( minus the white girls who can be racebent as long as there are vibes ) mostly bc i want the poc people to stay the correct poc! but yeah! if u like this message me specifically!!!!! seperately and hit me w a role ud like maybe an fc an idea anything < 3 im working on a google doc and discord sever

- i really want to play a himbo skater boy evan mock like its my dream i know nothing abt him other than he probably goes by something like mouth or juice or tris or dex or dante but !!!! he has buzzed hair he buzzes designs into, does stick n pokes, hates cops, will kiss anyone, likes to mosh at house shows, smokes a lot and sounds like crush from finding nemo, probably ur parents worst nightmare if im honest rodrick heffley energy -- adopt him for any plot

- i also really am obsessed with simay barlas who is my mascot rn -- i want to play her in some sort of dark academia setting with like gossip girl blair waldorf energies lu from elite and have her be really mean and cold and pretentious and play the cello and probably have secrets and be uptight idk the name mallory is resonating hard w me ( we could even do a gossip girl the secret history type group if people liked that ) 

-ok i also really really want to play streak aka silas montgomery who is like very like sidekick best friend to the golden boy main character, does a kick ass goat impression, class clown, relentlessly hits on like the most difficult person in school, does crazy things for laughs and attention, just wants to make people happy, only wears hawaiian shirts, finger guns, is going nowhere in life, his dad is probably the dean at whatever prestigious school also he is very very depressed and drinks often! love u! a I Feel Like Im The Worst So I Always Act Like Im The Best electra heart baby PINTEREST

also yes his hair is pink reg verse he did it on a dare but hp verse he did a potion wrong and it never came out

SOMEONE DO A LADY HANNIBAL WILL GRAHAM RP KILLING EVE RP W ME! i made this will graham adjacent gal for a genderbent hannigram rp her name is bisexual disaster enida johnson and sometimes goes by needy or will bc her middle name is willamena! has basically all the will things wears flannels is a mess but has a bunch of cats instead of dogs in her woods log cabin and im using crystal reed bc it fits perfect in my head idk if u like her hmu hit me w a lady hannibal PINTEREST

other stuff

ok i really want to do a princess and knight plot but with knight zendaya and princess anya taylor joy ???? ALKHALKSHALK LITERALLY HELLO literally modern or like dnd style i do not care but know i love dnd! we could make it like them goin on some skyrim quests like hi

speaking of dnd and skyrim if anyone wants to do like anything based in dnd stuff or skyrim stuff i am DOWN

jennifers body plot!!!! maybe set in college!!!!! sounds spicy i will do a f/f or m/m version leggo leggo 

UNTIL DAWN UNTIL DAWN!!!! i wanted to do a little like 6 person or mumu until dawn thing where everyone either makes new characters or characters based on the existing six! i made a girl adjacent josh character named riley PINTEREST who i love very much ( fc might change im thinking maybe medallion rahimi ) pls hmu if ur down

i looooooove breakfast at tiffanys!!!! like i really love breakfast at tiffanys we love a call girl broody author ship and i want to play a mishti rahman holly golightly type character so so bad 

pygmalion plot!!! basically like an author and the main character of their book comes to life and the book character is probably from a different period of time or realm so doesnt know how to do modern 2020 stuff like microwaves and the tv! and then maybe they get sucked into the characters book world thats written by the author and have to navigate that! enchanted! w the kdrama! energy!

GOSSIP GIRL PLOT ENERGIES

any sort of the secret history murder society until dawn ahs horror type setting i am on a kick rn 

i still really want a deaf sailor and siren plot bc that is so spicy or even like anything involving sirens like maybe one thats like vegetarian and doesnt like to eat humans so it ariel rescues one and keeps it safe!! or like only men are susceptible to the sirens song but aha! i am a woman! Romance!

anything in the realm of percy jackson i love mythology lets go i kind of want a echo narcisuss plot and i want it to hurt me so bad 

i will do harry potter stuff but only if its completely removed from the current canon like years in the future no existing families also maybe beauxbatons salem and drumstrang plots bc thats what matters

iiiiiiiii really like anime so i will do anything kakegurui, soul eater, ohshc

i kind of like grew up on the hunger games so i will gladly take any hunger games plots like young effie and haymitch is spicy or like a career tribute and one of the weaker poorer distracts enemies to lovers leggo

i have a kind of oc that had their parents die in a factory gas leak that was the governments fault and it turned them into a vigilante assasin that is slowly picking off bootlicker government people one by one pretending to be one of them until bam! gets attached to the rich asshole son or daughter of the head hauncho or one of the higher ups ... drama

rich little celebrity fussy wussy being held captive by the mafia and the tired stoic mafia guard but they fall in love 

i kind of like any plot that involves one person that is really loud or angry or dramatic or whiny and the other one is kind of sweet and gentle or does not talk much idk make brain happy 

speaking of!

no nonsense law student studying abroad in a european country and an artist there falls in love w them and is all romantic and gush and is like ur my muse!!! and they are like Go awAy and they explore the city together and themelseves its nice!

i want to be an avan jogia super villain idk why i need to but i do 

not to be a disney adult bc i am not but anastasia princesses dont kiss kitchen boys 

rival cheer captians? best friends brother? pop princess celebrity singer and like antiestablishment really angry rockstar in a publicity relationship? broody detective and sunshiney diner person that works at the diner they eat at everyday?

idk i will think of more hmu these can all be made f/f or m/m if they arent 

[youd-better-olorun]

Listen if I see a mermilf she can do whatever she wants to me

ik no one cares abt this blog but maybe 3 people but look at her

milfification beam

[zedpercyfan]

The Sirens of Cerulean | Part Two

Yes!  After over a year of stalling due to multiple issues, he is part two!

The Sirens

 Ash found his voice.  “You…” he began.  “You’re a Siren, right?”  

He couldn’t help but stare in awe, beyond all doubt he had certainly come to Cerulean in hopes to find the strange source of the power influxes, and he had arrived under the suspicion of the Siren legends – it never lessened the shock of actually laying eyes on one, however.

Misty however remained frozen, her hands held in front of her chest in pure fright, terror in her eyes.  A human, she thought nervously. I’m in front of an actual human!  I-I never thought that one would ever see us, at least in my lifetime…

She eyed him nervously, a stare filled with fear of the unknown.  She had heard rumors often enough about the humankinds’ ability for acts of evil and had no intention of finding out what those were.

Ash – if he was at all aware of Misty’s thoughts – would have to agree with her in the inversed, as he too felt filled with a certain amount of dread at the sight of the creature before him.  She looked human enough, but she clearly wasn’t – to him she looks like a monster.  After a few seconds of their awkward staring contest, Ash gulped and Pikachu cautiously hopped onto the ground.  Misty’s pupils shrunk and back further against her stony prison.

It was then that a strange power came off of her – Ash sensed it and hesitated, she was scared – he could hear smidgeons of the stress she was under.  The man averted his eyes, and slowly, very slowly pulled his gloves off and held his hands out in a manner of showing that he wasn’t armed.  “E-easy now,” he said as evenly as possible, “I just want to help…”

But Misty remained uncertain and on edge as the stranger approached her.  She had heard tales of what humans were capable of, both the good and the bad. She was cornered, the fog made everything look blurry, no escape possible – it was a terrible situation.

Ash continued his slow and vulnerable approached. But as he got to the edge of the water, Misty loudly flinched and flicked water at him.  “You’re injured,” Ash uselessly commented.  The Siren gave a low growl.  “Easy, I’m here to help.  I will help,” went on Ash.  But Misty remained scared.

Pikachu watched the situation uneasily and decided to step in since Ash’s methods weren’t working.

Misty let out a squeak as a strange land-dwelling Pokémon stepped in front of her, talking in its own language to her. Sirens were just as knowledgeable about Pokémon as humans, so she failed to comprehend what the electric mouse was saying.  “Hi…?” said Misty.

“Pi pika, pikapi!”

Misty just looked at the creature in astonishment. Unlike the human, and despite it still being a creature she was unfamiliar with, she felt a strange sense of trust in it.  It gave off a friendly aura, she thought.  As this ‘Pikachu’ was spilling his verbal guts to her, Misty began to get the feeling in her heart that those words were of the good sort – and it all had to do with the human in front of them.

Pikachu soon ran out of breath and heaved a sigh – he had done all that he could to try and tell this bizarre yet beautiful humanoid creature all that he could.  He stepped back.  “Pika, Pikapi pi.”  Ash nodded his thanks and stepped slowly forward.

“May I?” said Ash.  Misty silently nodded her head as she nervously brought her tail up. A nervousness came over Ash, the moment he touched her tail it did in a way feel no different than if he was helping a water type Pokémon, yet simultaneously he knew this is a genuine tail which belongs to a being thought to be nonexistent.  He examined the bleeding area.  “Slight bruise, the cut isn’t too deep but still needs to be disinfected.”  He paused as he realized he did not know if Sirens were susceptible to infections or not.  “Uh – do you need your wound cleaned?”

“Err, I-I will need disinfecting,” said Misty quietly.

“Oh, oh I see!  But, hmm...on scales…”

“My tail is too difficult to bandage?”

“Well, I’m not exactly used to bandaging scales you see.”

“There is a way that I can make it easier for you,” replied Misty.  “Lift me out of the water.”

“Can’t see how that would help, but all right,” said Ash doubtfully, but he did as he was told.  He gently reached under and lifted the Siren out of the water.

Then it happened.

OoOoO

Tracey put his binoculars down and heaved a heavy sigh – no ships had dared come close to the shore.  The waves kept up their ruthless hammering, however, and from the fog as a wave came in came a terrible cry.

“Help!” it called.

Tracey jumped and nearly slipped on the wet balcony. He peered into the soup to hear that it was coming from his lower right.  He dashed quickly back into his lighthouse to prepare for rescue.

“Could be a small fishing boat,” he muttered. “Or men who fell off their ship in the waves!  By Arceus this job!”

OoOoO

A bright light shone from Misty’s tail. Ash winced and had to shut his eyes tight from the blinding force.  In seconds from it starting, from his closed eyes the man soon realized the light had died down.  Ash opened one eye.

“Huh!” he gasped.  He twisted the other away, feeling horrified by what he saw.  The short haired girl, who had a tail, suddenly had no tail, just bare-naked legs.  The only thing she had on left was her seashell bra, but that offered little consolidation.

“Oh!  Sorry if this offends,” apologized Misty, though she couldn’t fathom the issue.

“N-no problem…” said Ash.  He quickly put her down, pulled off his blue coat and whisked it over her body.  “Here.”

“What’s this for?”

“To cover your…privates.”

“I see, thank you.”  Misty leaned back, the rock wasn’t comfortable, but its own slick quality and wave worn state made it smooth and cool to the touch.

Ash shivered a slight bit from the lack of his coat, but with what he had in his pockets he quickly set about disinfecting her. “So…does that always happen when you’re out of water?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” replied Misty simply.  “On land we lose our tails and gain legs.  It’s an adaptation we acquired some millions of years ago.”

“I-I see,” said Ash as his face felt hotter than the rest of his body, “and you’re used to this?”

“Well, I’ve never really been on land before,” replied Misty as her eyes scoured the surrounding area.  “I only know that this can happen from seeing other Sirens going through it.”

“You’re not cold?” went on Ash.  The harsh winds were biting, and the salty sea spray didn’t help matters for him, but it seemed Misty was unaffected.

“I don’t feel a thing,” she replied.

Ash raised an eyebrow and turned to Pikachu. “Flexible body temperature regulation? How very interesting…”

OoOoO

Tracey finished his scout of the horizon as well as shooting warning signals into the air.  All ships were too far away on to be in danger from the sudden waves.

“Ahoy!” he yelled for the umpteenth.  “Anyone there?  Ahoy!”

A blond figure peered over the top of a small cliff at the lighthouse keeper as he tried to make a right and head further up a rockface.  Tracey bumbled backwards after losing his grip, loose rock began to fall behind him. The blond cried out in shock.  The male whirled around and caught sight of a naked blond woman.

“Ahoy there- ?!” he stopped short.

Daisy averted her eyes towards the ocean.  “Um, hi.”

OoOoO

Ash soon finished bandaging her.  “Not the best job I can do out here, but it’ll do.”

“Thanks,” said Misty gratefully as she slowly helped herself up.  Her figure, Ash observed, almost a head shorter than him – only just.  “I’d have been in real trouble if it weren’t for you.”

“Oh, happened to be passing by, no trouble at all! Glad to be of help to you, er…I don’t think I caught your name, miss.”

Misty scoffed and looked away.  “Most wouldn’t.”

“Well…I’m Ash, Ash Ketchum.”

“Misty.  We usually don’t use surnames back home, but apparently our father had the name Waterflower.”

“I suppose you are,” quipped Ash, amused by his own wit.  Pikachu rolled his eyes.

Misty cocked her head to one side.  “Um, I am me, though.  Right?”

“Yes, indeed you are.  Slip of the tongue, no harm meant.”  Ash blinked and decided his sarcasm wasn’t welcomed.  He continued smiling, but his eyes carefully examined Misty. Finally, he found one of these elusive creatures – but before Ash could ask any questions the Siren’s eyes flashed up as though panicked – then a voice rang over the shores from the hills nearby.

“Ash!  Ash!? Are you there?” cried Tracey as he climbed to the top of a small hill of sand and rocks.  He spotted Ash with a girl he had never seen before.  “There you are!”

“Need something, Keeper?” called Ash.

“Yes!  I need your help.”  He paused as though uncertain of what to say next.  “I’ve found a Siren by the water and is not used to her legs.”

OoOoO

“It’s incredible, absolutely incredible!” exclaimed Tracey as he paced back forth in the small dining area of the lighthouse. “Both are Sirens, and sisters to boot?”  He pinched his arm.

“Is it really that hard to believe?” asked Misty obliviously.  She and Daisy were both in seats side by side while Ash and Tracey were standing.

“Well, I guess not,” said Tracey as he chuckled nervously.  “But…” He meaningfully looked at the two women. “For years we’ve heard stories and rumors of your kinds existence.  To finally meet you is an honor and privilege.”

“Why thank you,” said Daisy, beaming before returning to the tea she and her sister had received.  She stole a look at Misty.  ‘You’re injured,’ she said telepathically.

‘Yeah, tail got caught on a sharp rock when those waves came in and forced me onto one.’

Daisy looked over sympathetically.  Ash watched the interaction with interest as he and Tracey watched the soundless interaction.  He wasn’t able to hear what they were saying but he sensed something was happening.  Ash brushed his curiosity aside and decided to get the ball rolling.

“So, tell us, what’s it like to live in the water as opposed to up here?”

The two considered.  “Oh, it’s wonderful in the sea,” replied Daisy.  “We live in harmony with the water type Pokémon within our cities-”

“Cities?” said Tracey.  “You mean you build underwater civilizations, just like our own?”

“Yes, we do,” added Misty.  “They’re built out of stone, marble and steel.”  

“Steel?”  Tracey was perplexed.

The orange head spared glance at the gaslights in the room’s corners.  “Compared to you, we’re also considerably more advanced.”

“How so?”

“For a start we don’t have those dangerous fiery things,” said Daisy, referring to the lamp.  “Nor plain wooden doors.  We’ve seen your women; their clothes are very baggy and strange.  Nor do we have that strange hissing thing you have downstairs…”

“But boilers are standard for lighthouses…” Tracey felt hurt.

“Sorry if this sounds dumb.  But what are your lighthouses for anyway?”

The lighthouse keeper blinked.  “This place is for guiding ships, away from the rocks, that is.”

“Ah,” said the blond.  “We just use homing beacons.”  Tracey just stared at Ash, who shrugged back and cleared his throat.

“Well,” he said, trying to change the conversation, “at any rate, your home sounds rather interesting.  You’ve seen bits of our world – now we’d like to see yours since no human has seen your kind before.”

Both girls looked uncomfortable.  Tracey was concerned.  “What’s the matter?”

“We’re not exactly welcomed at our city…” said Daisy.

“So, you’re outcasts to them?”

“Yes,” replied Misty.  She looked up at the two humans.  “Nor would you two be welcomed either.”

“What?” exclaimed Tracey.  Ash, Pikachu, and Marill joined him in being shocked. “Why?  Is it because we’re so different?”

“They do have tails and the ability to breathe underwater compared to us,” put in Ash.

“Not just those differences, there’s more to it than those,” said Misty.

“See we used to live with respect for humans,” explained Daisy.  “We lived for years without actively engaging with your kind.  We knew of your existence, but we never interfered with what you did.  We often grew careless in our isolation, so some of you have had small sightings of us.”

“Which resulted in these legends?” asked Ash as he flipped through his book and showed her a page where a sailor on a boat was looking at a single Siren.

Daisy’s eyes lit up at the picture.  “Yes, but so few saw us that we became obscured to your people.  Even though you partially knew of us, we prove too secretive to be found so easily.”

“Until now, with all the singing?” Tracey asked.

Daisy went red and looked away.  “Yes, but see…”  She gulped and couldn’t continue.

“The situation has changed, see,” said Misty. “For years we’ve lived separately from you without interacting, that was how our leader wanted it.  All that’s changed however…”  Her face became grim and depressed.  “Now they’re seeking to destroy all of you off the face of Earth.”

OoOoO

“So, two of those witches are with the humans now, huh?” said Rudy with barely restricted venom in his tone.  “And the humans know that they are Sirens?”

“Y-y-yes sir,” stammered a scout.

“Damn!” snapped Rudy as he angrily swatted at his coral glass.  The force knocked it into the stone floor where it shattered.  “Very well, if that’s the game they want to play then we must start moving our plans now!”  He swam briskly towards an intercom and jabbed a button.  “Alan and Stuart, get in here now.”  He turned to the entrance of his palace.  “Paul!”

Within mere seconds the three Sirens swam in. Paul swam grimly in front and saluted. “Lord Rudy?”

“Brothers!” shouted their leader.  “For years we have had to tolerate those apes at the top.  I have promised you retribution for all that they have done.  The plan was to wait, but it turns out those bleeding-hearted rebels have two of their girls up on the surface.  We have yet to sense their influence on those humans, so we must strike before them.” He turned to the scout. “Sean!  How did they get to the filth?”

“Got caught in the waves, my lord,” said Sean hesitantly.  “Both were pushed out of the water.”

“Blast…oh never mind, in the confusion we have the advantage.”  His underlings seemed confused – Rudy slapped his forehead in annoyance.  “The storm is a perfect cover!  None of those primitives are paying attention to what’s happening.  They’ll accept anything that shows up, even us.  Grab one of the captured boats and pretend you’re merchants using the info we’ve gathered from the deceases brains.  It’s then a matter of laying our traps.”

“Sir!”  With a salute Alan and Stuart left to make the preparations.  Paul stayed to give a glance to Rudy.

“What of me, sir?”

Rudy’s look was stern yet relaxed.  “I need someone reliable to go with them, an insurance if you will.  I can’t trust those two to entirely make sure that things go according to plan.  Make sure our message to the vermin is…smashed in.”

Paul closed his eyes and grunted in acknowledgement.

OoOoO

“We can’t have that,” said Ash grimly as paced around the tight space.

“Us?”  Tracey was beside himself with shock.  “But what did we ever do to you?”

“It’s not what you’ve done to us,” said Daisy. “See it’s – er – it’s complicated.”

Tracey looked like he couldn’t understand.  “I don’t get it.  We can’t breathe underwater!  We’re stuck on land.  What have we ever done?”

“Just that you’ve been deemed vermin,” said Misty with a hint of disdain.  “Our old ruler finally died of old age – 152 he was.  His successor, Rudy, somehow gathered our kind together in a matter of days to rally behind him against you.”

“All of your brothers and sisters?” breathed Tracey. “How?!  We humans can barely get along ourselves.”

“Much less united to one thought,” finished Ash. “And you two don’t share that view?”

“Our two middle sisters, too,” confirmed Daisy. “Along with a handful of others. We’re small, but our numbers are still noticeable.”

“Went into hiding as a side effect,” muttered Misty.

“Yet despite your different views, Rudy still managed to get the majority.”  Ash paused and held a finger to his lips to think.  Pikachu flicked his own ears as he adopted the same expression as his Master. “I prefer to see things for myself if you don’t mind,” he announced.  “Could you show us a view of your home?”

“What?  Why?!” they two Sirens said at the same time.

“We don’t have to get too close.  Just enough to get an idea what we’re facing.”

“Agreed!” added Tracey.

“But there’s danger!” insisted Misty.

“So?” retorted Ash.  “If we’re in as much danger as you say we are, then I think we’re entitled to at least seeing how our enemies live.  Are you with me, Tracey?”  He turned to face the lighthouse keeper who felt instantly put on the spot.

“Well, y-yes, of course!”

Ash whirled round to the ladies of the room with a cheeky grin and spread his arms out.  “And there you have it.”

OoOoO

The team of Alan, Stuart, and one very irate Paul had collected the boat, allowed it to rise to the surface of the ocean and were currently boarding the small vessel. Soon as they were on the ship their tails disappeared and gave way to legs.  The men pranced unsteadily across the damp boards and Alan and Stuart began to fiddle around with the clothes they were provided.

“This crap’s a lot harder to figure out than I thought,” grumbled Stuart as he failed to put on a pair of pants.  “Leave it land-lovers to create such convoluted devices.”

Alan snorted in agreement and thrashed a hand into the mist.  “Yeah! Strange creatures these humans.”

“Shut up, the both of you,” said Paul.  “The mission is all that you need to focus on.” With that, he forcefully pulled his pants up.

“Oh yes sir,” was Alan’s sarcastic reply.

“Whatever you say, sir.”  They both laughed.  “Free to speak our minds, aren’t we?  You could always just choose to ignore us, Paul.  You do that back home already so well!  Hahahaha!”

Paul sucked his teeth in frustration.  “Your stupidity defies reality…” he muttered.

After they had finally fitted into the salvaged clothes of their enemies, the three men convened in a lower deck.  They observed a vast collection of parts under the glow of their coral-based lamps.

“Our little ‘gift’ for the heathens,” said Alan. “Everything is here as planned. All we have to do is follow Lord Rudy’s outline.”

“Just a matter of getting it physically ready,” replied Paul.  “Think you can handle that at the very least?”

OoOoO

“The very least to hope for is a glimpse at their marvelous city,” said Ash to Tracey as he and the lighthouse keeper descended the stairs in robes, swimming wear underneath to the front door.  They examined the boiler, making sure it was stoked full of coal.  “And you’ve made sure that the automatic whistle is set to go off?”

“Yes,” replied Tracey.  He frowned in thought.  “You know, we’ll be the first humans to ever set eyes on the city of the Sirens. Heh…what an honor…!  Only, they hate us…”

Ash grimaced and patted the keeper’s back. “Come on,” he said, “let’s face adversity together, aye?”

“Pi, pikachu!”

Tracey gave a weak grin, he knew he didn’t feel quite as brave as his two visitors.  “Marill, ready to help me?”  He turned to Ash.  “Er, I forgot, who’s your choice of Pokémon helper?”

The male smiled and produced a Waterball before unleashing a Totodile who began to dance.  “Happy fella isn’t he?” said Ash.  “Keeps the thoughts happy.  No point in brooding over what can’t be helped.”

They went outside where the two Sirens were waiting.

Daisy’s fingers fidgeted.  “Now, to be one-hundred percent sure.  You are aware of the potential danger?”

“Yes,” replied Ash with barely reigned in annoyance, “we know what the risk is.”

“There’s no shame in backing out,” put in Misty. Ash gave her a look and was about to reply when Tracey sensed the air and felt he had to intervene.

“No shame!” he said.  “I mean, we’re just off to observe, not the same as interfering.” He whirled round to Daisy and pointed a finger.  “You said that you and many friends of yours have been living outside the city perimeter, yes?”

“Y-yes, that’s right.”

“But not interfering?”  He got a look in the positive.  “We’re doing the same.  A look out.” His words seemed to calm the feisty Misty down as her shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Right.  Let’s get down, shall we?” she asked.

The girls wrapped their arms around the boys’ arms and went into the water, their respective Pokémon joining them.  The girls felt annoyed at having to repeatedly bring the boys up for air, but soon Daisy grinned in delight as she noticed a sort of plant in the water which she promptly fed to both.  Within minutes oxygen storage became bigger and the tolerance to being unable to draw a breath become longer.

“It gives a sort of…Siren gift,” said Misty.

Good enough for me… thought Ash to himself.  Totodile just guffawed in his usual manner as though nothing was wrong – Marill, however, just stared out of curiosity.

The group swam for miles towards the open ocean before Ash winced slightly as he felt something giving him a headache.  He shrugged it off, however the source was soon to come.

OoOoO

Dawn looked out of a window at the Cerulean Playhouse Inn and frowned.  “What a storm,” she observed.

“What?!” said Barry.  He ran dramatically over to the window, bumping Dawn who gave a grunt of annoyance as her figure banged against the windowsill.  “Just what we needed!  I’m gonna fine whichever God decided to bring this on!”

“Barry!  Base yourself!  It’s a storm, you know we can’t defy those!”

Barry clenched his fists in annoyance and whirled round.  “Hmph! Rain, bad for business, now no one will stop by until this blows over.”

“Oh, quit your whining.  It’s – just – rain.  It’ll pass and we’ll be getting all the travelers who’re in need of a shelter and bath.”  She walked around him and put a finger to his diaphragm.  “You better start adjusting that attitude, Barry, or…”

“Or…what?”

“…Or else someone your size, and perhaps even bigger, will show up and finally take you off that high Ponyta of yours.”  And she turned and walked to her desk.  Barry just scratched his head.

“But I don’t own a Ponyta.”

“Oh, just hush up and make yourself presentable to any guests in town that need getting out of the rain,” she replied. “By that, I mean get out of those muddy pants.”

“Mud…?”  He looked himself over, and sure enough, he had a near foots worth of mud hanging onto his pants.  “I’m gonna fine whoever did this to me!”

Dawn held a hand to her eyes.  “Idiot!  You got them dirty filling in the battle holes of your own choosing! Remember?!”

OoOoO

A light source began to shimmer in the water in front of Ash and Tracey, who could only look in wonderment.  Their swimming path caused them to go pass the ship with Paul and the others onboard, but they didn’t notice or feel them.

They soon reached a cliff that overlooked the Sirens’ city.  Tracey gasped in excitement and looked on in awe, resting against the smooth rock. Unknown to him, Misty, Daisy, and Ash all wore uncomfortable countenances – something was causing them pain. Even the Pokémon seemed to register the strange feeling.

Ash closed his eyes and willed the pain away. What is this… he asked himself.

“Ash, come and check this place out!” called Tracey. “Wait, talk?  I can talk underwater!”  Ash gasped in agreement when he realized it too before swimming over, he too gasped with the same awe.

What laid before them was a massive city, homes made of stone and large towers that flashed in various colors from sources unknown to the two humans.  Technology of which they had no understanding of was before them.  From strange crafts that floated along – mysterious cubes that seemed to glow and showed multiple…whatever those were (Pictures?), to the lights all around that looked nothing like what they were used to. Truly, a modern marvel.

Ash wanted to say something but winced from the pain.  “What’s wrong,” asked Tracey.

“Something’s hurting our heads,” muttered Ash.

“Huh, strange, I don’t feel a thing.”

“The Pokémon can feel it,” said Ash, noting Marill and some passing Pokémon’s looks.  “Just what is this?”  Next to him, Totodile seemed happy but had noticeably less vigor than before.  “It’s like a sort of aura…which’d explain why I and the Sirens can feel it…”

“It’s a collected pool of negative energy,” explained Daisy.  “It’s the animosity of our brethren collected here in the city.”

“But wait,” said Tracey, “why can you, the Pokémon, and Ash feel it, but I can’t?”

“We’re telekinetic which is how we’re able to sense it.  Our emotions can become a form of energy that travels psychologically.  As for Ash…”

“It’s because I’m sensitive to aura.  Tracey, are you familiar with groups who claims to be one with nature and can sense life?”

“Well, yes.  Oh yes, I’ve heard of them, everyone has.  Wait, are you…?”

“Yes, I’m one of those, an aura user, which is how I’m able to feel what they are feeling.”

“That’s incredible, Ash!  But how come I can’t sense it if it’s so strong?”

“Normal humans can’t detect the psychic energy, even emotional ones,” explained Ash.  “It’s how I can be far closer emotionally to Pokémon more than the average human.  But what is all this angry energy here for?”

“To fight humans,” replied Daisy solemnly. “As we said, Rudy hates your kind and has gathered our brothers and sisters to his cause.”

“All this energy has one purpose,” added Misty. “To add fuel to our weapons.”

“Weapons?” Ash and Tracey paled.

It was then that trouble came.  A friend of Misty and Daisy’s was nearby and she had startling news to tell them…

OoOoO

The storm was passing at Cerulean.  Men at the harbor watched with curiosity when Paul, Alan, and Stuart arrived on their boat.

Giving the sailors reluctant grunts of acknowledgement, they set about gathering their supplies and began carrying them to the town. Alan and Stuart grumbled as they went. “Stupid Mankeys,” said Stuart. “Just look at them…”

“Ahoy, mateys,” said a random sailor.  “Came ‘ere from the storm did ye?”

“Er, y-yeah.”

“Now that’s a brave and foolish thing. Y’know-”

“It was trouble, but not that troublesome,” interrupted Paul curtly.  “It’s been a long journey and we’d like to rest and prepare our goods for market.”

“O-oh, sure thing, sailor.”  And he quickly left.

Paul ‘tsked’ as he left.  “Hurry up, you idiots, and set that thing up.  I’ll go and get information on this place to get an idea of the scale.”

“Though why we couldn’t have made our job faster and cleaner with a jet I’ll never know,” complained Stuart.

“Pathetic moron…if we used that, the humans would’ve suspected us.  Now get back to your job or I’ll push you into a Lanturn’s Thunder attack.”

Paul grumpily walked through the city.  With the rain now passed, people were coming out of their abodes.  Paul ignored them and soon found himself standing before a strange stone building. The word he registered was ‘inn’.

Dawn greeted him at the counter.  “Oh, hello!  Welcome to the Cerulean Playhouse Inn.  My name is Dawn Berlitz and I’ll be your host.  What can I d-”

“Just a room for three,” said Paul curtly.  “I can do without the pleasantries.”

“Hey!” yelled Barry, rushing from where he was to Paul’s side.  “And just who do ya think you are, buster?  For disrupting her slogan I’m gonna have to fine you!”  Paul glared and put a strong hand on Barry’s forehead.  The blond instantly paled but regained his spunk. “Oh?  Think you’re a tough guy, huh?  Arrogance against me is another fine!”

Paul was going to make this blond filth silent when something long stabbed him lightly from behind. It was this ‘Dawn’ girl who pushed a heel of a shoe into his face.  “Now you listen here,” hissed Dawn through barely contained rage. “I’ve had just about up to HERE with men problems today.  So kindly just come with me to your room.”

With must tension, the three eased from each other. Barry eyed Paul suspiciously and vice versa.  Dawn, with a stern stomp of her foot which made a loud sound against their wooden floor, lead the way.

OoOoO

Ash’s group with much speed returned to land at the lighthouse.  Pikachu had been sat waiting patiently, talking with the local Corsolas and Pidgeys when Ash and his group emerging scared them.

“Pikachu, hello!” said Ash.  He sensed the surprise and slight hostility from the local Pokémon, but he didn’t have time for them.  “Come on, we have to hurry!  There’s a Siren invasion happening!”

At the city’s market square Alan and Stuart continued their work while the citizens watched on with mild interest but uncertainty as to what was being put together.

Alan smirked a devious smirk as he pulled a piece out from the archaic wooden box.  “Now, humans…” he murmured.  “Time for you to learn what a bomb is…”

[villlainarc]

To Fall in Love

Prologue: The Whispers of Lovers

Summary: In which Roman hears the call of a siren and Logan is finally satisfied with what he has.

Pairing: Logince

Warnings: mentions of death, unhappy ending (so it doesn’t sneak up on you in later chapters), ask for anything else you need

Word Count: 1905

A/N: the song in this chapter is none other than into the unknown from frozen 2 (yes this does start out incredibly similar to the plot of that movie, but it’s really not i swear)

More A/N: this is a secret santa gift for @ari-the-anxious-ace and as such, is already completed (and can be found at this very moment on ao3). but so as not to spam you, chapters will be posted every three days.

special thanks to @cringeless for beta reading :)

masterlist || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6

read on ao3 or below the cut

find other stuff i’ve written under #writings from the stars

Roman had been hearing a voice for weeks now. It called to him across the vast ocean, it’s haunting lilt impossible to forget. The sound of it occupied his thoughts every waking moment and invaded his dreams while he slept.

The first few times, he’d tried to ignore it. It had been quiet at first, a melody so soft he could barely hear it. In the beginning, it had been easy to ignore the pull that came with it too. Sure, it tugged at his heart and left a nagging feeling in his head no matter what he did, but it had been manageable.

It was far less manageable now. Now, the song was louder. He could hear it no matter where he was, no matter what he did. Roman had taken to sitting on his balcony and just listening. The voice calling to him was beautiful; low and silky, deep and sweet. He was enchanted by it. He longed to know who it belonged to, where it came from—and the strengthening pull of the song definitely wasn’t dissuading him.

But he couldn’t follow the voice. He couldn’t go where his heart begged him to, where his mind told him he had to. It was impossible.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think he could do it. On the contrary, Roman knew he’d be able to find where the voice came from with a surety he’d never felt in his life. He’d never sailed anywhere before, not once, but he’d be able to find the voice. He was certain of it, more certain than he was that the sun would rise in the morning.

No, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that Roman couldn’t just up and decide to set sail in search of a voice that no one else seemed to hear. The problem was that Roman wasn’t allowed to do that.

He never would be either, not if it took him away from home. Not if it took him away from his duties, away from the castle, away from the throne.

Roman was to be king. He couldn’t go off on adventures just because his heart felt like it was being torn out of his chest and towards a voice that no one else believed existed. He was to be king, he couldn’t do just anything.

The thought dragged down his normally light spirit. He felt as though the crown promised to him was a shackle, keeping him trapped in a prison of gold and marble. Being king to Roman was a burden greater than the one Atlas bore, heavier than the sky itself.

More than anything, he wanted to forget his duty to the kingdom. He wanted to leave, even for a little while. He only wanted to find the voice, he could come back after that. It wouldn’t be a long journey, he told himself.

Somehow though, he knew that was a lie. The voice’s hold on him now was near painful in its intensity, who knew what it would be like when he got closer. If he left, he wouldn’t come back.

Which was why he couldn’t leave, no matter how much his entire being wished and hoped and dreamed to follow the sound of that lovely song.

Even still, Roman stood on his balcony each night, listening and longing. When the pull from the voice was especially strong, he had found that parroting back its tune helped to lessen its intensity. That was where he could be found most nights, ignoring his need for sleep and humming an unknown song, void of words.

Roman’s heart ached, but he would survive this. He didn’t follow the voice, no matter how much he wanted to. He did what was asked of him, wore his crown, exuded an air of perfection. He made sure to never have a hair out of place, never let anyone notice the bags under his eyes. His smiles stayed dazzling, his eyes stayed bright. Nothing was wrong.

Nothing was wrong at all until the voice began to whisper lyrics along with the melody he’d been hearing for months.

“Someone out there…”

Like the melody had, the lyrics started out faint. Roman only caught snatches of them every so often, but it was almost enough to drive him insane.

“A little bit… you…”

Just as he had before, he tried to ignore the song.

“Knows… not where you’re meant to be…”

It didn’t work this time.

“Every day’s a little harder.”

Because soon the voice grew clearer. Roman could hear more of the song, and it had him spellbound.

“Don’t you know there’s a part of you that longs to go…”

The lyrics spoke to him in a way nothing ever had. The words echoed thoughts he’d tried to hide for longer than he cared to admit, and suddenly Roman couldn’t stand the pounding of his heart and the way it mimicked the beat of the song.

“Into the unknown.”

He was done for. There was no way anyone could have ignored a call as strong as this, and Roman had already tried to for so long. He couldn’t keep pretending he was fine forever. The crack in his mask that was currently forming had always been inevitable.

He’d resisted for so long. It was a relief beyond words to finally acknowledge and accept what he’d always known.

Roman was leaving the palace. He wasn’t going to be king. He wasn’t coming back. He was going to follow the cord tied around his heart and find the source of that voice. Nothing was going to stop him. Not his family, who he scribbled a hasty, half-hearted note to as he all but sprinted to the edge of his balcony. Not his friends, who he’d never had in the first place. Not his kingdom, as it would undoubtedly find a way to thrive without him. With nothing weighing him down anymore, Roman felt like he could fly.

He couldn’t though, so he didn’t leap off the balcony as he was so tempted to do and instead, he chose to carefully maneuver himself down the wall of the castle. He dropped to the ground when he ran out of hand and foot holds. The smile he’d had on his face since making his decision never faltered as he ran across the grounds, ignored by every guard he passed. He was the future king, he could do anything he wanted.

He was the future king, and he was going to steal a pirate ship.

Roman let out an involuntary laugh, spurred on by the pure joy bubbling up in his chest as he ran towards the docks.

The voice called out to him, and for the first time, Roman didn’t try to ignore it. He sang back to it instead, the lyrics coming naturally.

“Are you out there?

Do you know me?

Can you feel me?

Can you show me?”

The voice replied with the melody he’d been hearing for months and Roman repeated it, unable to help himself. Why stop, after all? He was too happy to stop.

As Roman paused in front of a rather imposing ship, and the voice lowered to a whisper as though in reverence. This was it. The pirate ship his kingdom had captured, supposedly the fastest vessel on the seas.

It was Roman’s now.

He ran up the ramp and let his instincts guide him into preparing the ship as the voice began singing again. Roman hummed along with it, not sure if he’d ever be able to stop smiling.

Roman’s hands easily twisted a final knot into place and without warning, the voice stopped. It cut out completely for the first time since Roman had started hearing it. His mind was filled with lyrics again, and he asked it, “Where are you going? Don’t leave me alone! How do I follow you…” Roman held the note, and it rang out over the ocean as the ship began to drift away from land. He took a breath when the voice still didn’t start up again. “Into the unknown?”

There was still no answering call, but Roman felt the cord around his heart grow tighter. Even without the voice to guide him, he’d be able to find his way, that was still a fact cemented into his very being.

He breathed in the air around him and tossed back his head. His smile still hadn’t faded, and Roman’s heart beat out that familiar melody again. At long last, he was going to find the voice that had haunted him for so long. He was going to be one of the lucky few to achieve his dream.

Roman laughed, and the wind whipped through his hair. For the first time in his life, he felt truly free.

🌊

A voice, desperate and pleading, called out over the ocean. It soared along the waves and dipped into the currents, searching for someone, anyone, that would listen. With each passing moment, the cry grew weaker, the power it had once held falling away. Soon enough, no one would hear it.

The owner of the voice didn’t want that. He wanted—no, needed—someone to hear his song before it was too late. He didn’t know why no one was answering him. While he would always place his trust in the ocean and his own magic to carry his call to whoever would be most susceptible to it, he was beginning to grow unsure that anyone could hear it. If his voice had lost enough of its power that it couldn’t make it off the island, he didn’t know what he’d do.

He didn’t know if there was anything he could do.

Would he die, he wondered morbidly, if the ocean wasn’t able to find someone for him to lure? That almost sent him into a panicked spiral, but he shoved it down. He couldn’t afford to lose faith. If he did, his song definitely wouldn’t reach anyone.

So he waited, holding onto as much hope as he dared. He waited, and received no response for almost a week more.

But then, he heard something. An echo of his own song, whispered back to him. He breathed it in, taking in just enough sweetness of the listener’s dream to know what to sing of. His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and he smiled.

“Or am I someone out there who’s a little bit like you?

Who knows deep down you’re not where you’re meant to be?”

He could feel a sharp pull as the part of the dream he’d taken reached back to where it came from. More of the honeyed dream seeped into him and pulled the rest ever nearer, and he knew his victim was hooked. Wherever he was, he was coming, as surely as night followed day.

He was coming, and he would bring his dream with him in all of its sugary delectability.

Logan could already taste it on the wind, drawing closer with every breath. He grinned, teeth bared in some approximation of a human smile. He was going to survive, and that fact brought him closer to the happiness that humans so often flaunted than anything else ever could.

Finally, he would be able to drain a human of their dream and live again.

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 23: Bleeding Out

(Run from the masquerade.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 23: Bleeding Out

Word Count: 1661

Relationships: DLAMP (romantic)

Warnings: Stab wound, blood, knife, dissociation (? kinda), assassin, identity theft/false identities, morally grey Patton (Patton was conditioned and trained from childhood to be a killer, though not by choice)

A/N: sorry that this is late. i've lost my second source of wifi and am now on an unreliable schedule. please forgive me. anyway, i know someone wanted something patton-centric, so hopefully this is okay! i know it's not super whumpy, but i've been playing around with this idea for a while and thought it was interesting.

Who am I?

Words filter through Patton’s brain, drench themselves in an apathy far removed from expression of ideals. Breaks and cracks and trials and tribulations rip throughout his head, shake him to the core, and it’s like his train of thought has switched to a west-bound track at the very last second. Nothing seems to be tangible here, impalpable in the bleak, bleached whiteness of the room itself. Existing in an echo of itself, pictures hung in thin air as residual temperament of times past.

Where am I?

The blank space pushing a pressure on his mind shifts and morphs into something new, amalgams of amorphous nothings twisting and braiding strands of senses, whispering gold in artificial light. Walls rise up, looming and hollow, and Patton wants to hide inside a diamond box until the last bit of oxygen is expelled from his lungs. A roof closes over top, securely snapping into place as if it’s been there all along.

Am I alive?

Dreary greys arise from bleeding spots of discolouration in the new room, pooling out to coat a shade darker like a storm cloud just before it fades away. The attempt at colour is pathetic, and wholly a failure, and none of the words seem to stay in Patton’s brain anymore. There are magicians to tell him no, dancers leaping and twirling as they snatch up every bit of coherency Patton didn’t know he still had. They spin away, leaving him with nothing.

What happened?

A true question, valid and fair, but it doesn’t stop his mind from unconsciously raising a red alert that trails for miles long. The query is stolen away, bartered by thieves of the night for the tiniest splash of the colour magenta, and touching that dot of flat paint sends a shock through his system. The new colour shoots out from every fingertip, shades of red falling heavily over the room to muster shadows and highlights and shapes that are now clear enough to be recognized. A bookshelf, a couch, a table. Blurs of wine, marred by time, falling behind, undefined, stuck in line…

Am I awake?

Taken into consideration, broken and under construction in wavering hands that fall to his sides.

Am I asleep?

Movement blossoms underneath his skin, sparks and compels to bring his tired fingers to wrap around his stomach.

What is that?

A real shape, a real feeling, cylindrical rubber and plastic. It’s a handle, ridged and beaten-up and misshapen, malformed, and Patton grips it hard. Pulling at it is like agony, feeling despite the whims of the shallowly merciful, diluted promises to echo brightly in his head. Each word digs into him, digs deep enough to release his cyan blood, and along with the red comes blue and purple. Azure skies spill from his stomach, coat his hands and stick to his clothes, and the clouds are missing.

How did I get hurt?

The knife rests easily in Patton’s hands, forming to the curvature of his digits like a malleable putty slipping between with the viscosity of caramel. Happy accidents reset the logistics of nightmares, pertinent to the matter of when and where and how and why. The who is him, a stolen identity and a fake face, masked with indifference to the things he had to leave behind. Yellow shines through his chest, rays of light splitting him in half, and the full painting bursts into being.

Patton gasps in a choked breath of much-needed air, pupils blown wide in the dim light of the room he’s in. He shoots up from the concrete, the smell of garbage and petrichor wafting up from the alleyway he resides in. Rain splashes down all around him, filling the city’s atmosphere with a staticky, white noise to offset the far-off ambience of horns honking, vague lyrics, and the occasional police siren. The water soaks through his clothes easily, chills him to the bone in the cool night air, but that doesn’t matter because there’s a huge gash in his abdomen, and a bloodied knife discarded on the ground beside him. Hypothermia is the least of his problems right now.

The pain is acute, ripples deep through his flesh as nerves spark like fireworks under his skin. The wound leaves a bitterness in Patton’s heart, calls forth a litany of self-destructive, self-righteous, asinine introspection, things that usually would remain locked deep in the chasm at the back of Patton’s mind. It’s not as if he necessarily wants to die, but maybe it’d be easier to fall asleep here, lay in the flood and accept each pool of regret as they really are.

Maybe not.

After all, his boyfriends are waiting for him at home. The four of them know about Patton’s job and yet stay with him anyway, despite the danger it’s brought upon them all, something Patton regards with a bittersweet outlook. Yes, the show of sentiment is warming, unconditional love acting as a buffer between himself and his karma that he knows he doesn’t deserve, but it also makes them reckless, loyal to a fault. They will all die if they continue to be with him, something Patton has stressed to them multiple times, but the warning never seems to get through their heads.

Roman and Virgil are similar, in a lot of ways, despite how drastically opposing their personalities are. Virgil is unerringly cautious, finds it easy to betray the powerful under the motivation of bettering the masses, and is rebellious despite his paranoia-- it’s what drew Patton to him in the first place. Roman, on the other hand, prioritizes by not prioritizing at all-- every single person is born equally with the ability to do good or evil, and their path is a result of external factors rather than wholly internal. Setting aside his own wants isn’t losing, not really, because no matter what he chooses he will always find gratification, a trait that Patton does not share but respects anyway. Together, they tend to fight and clash, opposing ideals dancing around each other under a common drive and purpose. This overhang is what brings them together, in the end, as two who refuse to stand on the sidelines and let those who cannot fight for themselves be taken advantage of.

Logan is complicated, mainly because of the very nature that forces him down into commonality. He is inconspicuous in every sense of the word, prefers to work in the shadows rather than the limelight, and it’s this trait that allows him to sneak around those he’s manipulating like a puppet master. His intelligence is boundless, never held down by narrow perspective or innate complacency from where he stands as an individual in a society that constantly seeks to strip him of that title. He’s calculating, assesses every possible outcome before he makes a decision, which makes him extremely dangerous. Exactly the kind of person who would be very high up in the hierarchy in Patton’s line of work.

Ethan is the one out of the four of them that acts as an outlier, the one on the other side of the glass. He’s drastically different to the others, sharing very few commonalities, which made getting to know him much more interesting. Ethan is a coward, bravery having melted away long ago, as if it were never there to begin with, and maybe it wasn’t. He’s opinionated, and fierce, and protective, but when push comes to shove, he will hide in the shadows under an umbrella of regret to part the downpour. He means well, but his fear holds him back, leaves him susceptible to panic. However, this doesn’t mean he’s weak; he’s far from it. While Ethan may crack under direct pressure, when he’s allowed to operate in the flanks, fight by proxy, he’s unstoppable. A worldview untainted by inherent decharacterization pushes him far beyond the rest, an allowance of growth never wavering throughout any success he garners.

They’re all unique, special in how they deal with what the world throws at them, and it’s why Patton hasn’t just killed them all yet. The way he grew up, he was always taught to take advantage of anyone who can provide what he needs and then kill them off when he’s finished with them. Being an assassin means no baggage, not a single suitcase taken along, and shedding identities like the skin of a snake is just another part of Patton’s daily life. He can’t allow them to stay. It’s a terrible idea, leaves him with weaknesses if anyone ever found out. And yet he still refuses to give them up, like an idiot. A lovesick fool, just waiting for an enemy to take revenge and the lives of the ones he cares about.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? He does care, dreadfully, impossibly so, and it strips him of his advantages. That cold, detached front he’s worked for years to achieve is easily smashed to pieces any time Logan gives him a stress massage, or when Virgil gently holds his hand, or when Ethan curls up with him under a warm blanket, or when Roman gives him soft kisses early in the morning. There’s no way to be the sharp, clinical assassin known as The Heartbreaker while not confronting the fact that he’s also Patton Etienne (for now, at least), a weak, fun-loving secretary from a small town in Florida.

And when his boyfriends finally get sick of him, he will become Jace, an accountant from Manhattan, or the poor artist Kaden, or Mark, the neighbour from down the street. He will blend in like a chameleon for the express purpose of staying on the down-low, put on a new mask every day to get closer to his target, and then he will move onto the next victim and the higher payout. 

But right now, under cover of the night and the rain, Patton clutches his stab wound, struggles to his feet, and limps home.

[elegant-etienne]

FFXIVWrites #2: Bargain

(This the story of Adi losing his eye. I’ve had this scene in mind since I created the character, but finally felt confident to do the scene justice. WARNINGS for parental abuse, spousal abuse and body horror, as well as some misogyny, fantasy racism and xenophobia, and implied homophobia.)

( @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast)

"What need have you to go topside, Telesphoriade? You know they hate our kind up there."

Adi (as he preferred to be called, disliking to hear his father's name each time someone spoke to him) stood before his father in the chamber he'd come to think of as a makeshift throne room. Really, it wasn't as grand as all that. It was a high-ceilinged chamber with that ancient, sealed door as its only light, but his people were fine in the dark. Adi, like his father, and his grandfather, and many men before them, studied that door for years. They knew the inscriptions. They felt the judgment of the ancient king's eyes upon them and had not yet found how to open that door or lift the curse. The roots that curved along the walls and ceiling like a bizarre rib cage had been coaxed to flow into the shape of a chair decades ago by Telesphore. His throne sat in the center of the large, open chamber, right where he could watch both the archway entrance and that door. He had to watch them both. None were permitted to even look upon that door without Telesphore's go-ahead, and this was the best way to be certain.

Telesphore was handsome where Adi was pathetic: at least that is what everyone always said. Telesphore: admirable and irresistible over his many decades. His robes, though old, were well-mended and fine, another relic passed down through generations. His eyes always held the aether-glow these days, for the illness was taking his sight, but his violet hair flowed as beautifully as the leaves roots he compelled to grow down here, and he kept his beard smartly trimmed. Despite the mockery of that door and its refusal to open, he was the ruler of this broken, buried domain. Not king, never king, but the closest thing to authority that existed down here in the dark. When he spoke, he straightened his posture from its bored slouch to straight-backed and authoritative. To bring such a large request to him was to court the danger of his temper, but Adi saw his only way.

And he brought his mother as back-up. Sort of.

"They do hate us up there," Zinnia said. She had always been a bit wispy, a bit too quick to agree with Telesphore, even in her attempts to support her son. She was paler than her son her husband, muted echoes of the violet and blue-gray that named her as a part of the Lamoureaux clan. The illness had not been kind to her. She leaned heavily on Adi to stay upright. She weighed so little now. "Adi knows. I know. We've seen it. The way Gridanians make comments when we sell our produce, like we're filthy. It will not be easy for him, but he's willing to endure it. For our sake, my dearest. For the sake of all of the family."

"I see. So my own teachings were inadequate." As usual, Telesphore spoke as if his wife were not in the room. He addressed only Adi. This blindness had taken hold long before the illness. "Your own people call you a prodigy, and I have given of myself, my sweat and blood to make you so - and that is not enough. You require the acceptance of those cowards. Well, you've always been a bit desperate for approval, haven't you, Telesphoriade?"

Adi chewed the inside of his cheek. Even knowing how Telesphore would react, some part of him that wanted to answer back to that bait. Because what his father wanted him to do was assure him that the only approval he required was from him.

 "Like I give a damn if they approve of me," he said. "They won't. I know they won't. I don't care about them. But as valuable as our traditions are, ser, there are many healing practices - chirurgy, alchemy, possibly even other ways to harness white magic - that have advanced because of their bloody war. If we haven't been able to fix things with our knowledge as we have it, then I must find more. I refuse to pass this problem onto the next generation without at least trying something else, something other than staring at that damned door! There have been generations of research I could have access to if the Fane acknowledges me. While I still have the strength to walk in the sun, then I should be doing all I can."

"So you'll be their puppet, scraping to the elementals until they change their minds about us once again. They'll tempt you up there, boy. Their women are brazen."

"I won't have time for women," Adi said too quickly. Quickly enough that his mother looked at him, really stared. He felt it. He could not look at her. His fingers twitched. He hated when he did not look at her. He knew she wasn't often seen.

"You say that now," Telesphore chuckles. He drummed his fingertips along the arm of his chair as if playing a slow, deliberate scale. "But mark my words, I've been in your position. I was lured by the siren song of the so-called freedom of Eorzeans. The decadence. I thought I could change things too, when I was young and headstrong."

"Maybe it will be good for him," Zinnia spoke up. She squeezed Adi's arm. It felt like a small child's grip. "To learn. Not to find a wife, of course, but just to see more. You had such experiences before settling down."

"If you get in trouble with a woman up there, the Wood Wailers will be eager to bring you down, and prove you as a brute," Telesphore said, stroking his beard. "They might even shoot you full of arrows if you look at the wrong one." He chuckled, probably enjoying that image. "I won't come rescue you. You understand that, right? If you insist on being so obstinate, then all consequence be on your head alone."

Adi felt his stomach boil. He held it in, hands flattened against his thighs. Telesphore hated it when he stood with crossed arms. "I wouldn't ask you to," he said, "No matter what. I take this on as my own burden, I would never ask you to carry for me." I'd rather die than ask for your help for anything. "I know it's horrible. I'll come back after every training session. I won't linger among them long enough to let them influence me. Momma needs looking after, as do the others." This was the truth at that time: he couldn't stand Gridanians looking down their noses at him. He had no desire for their stupid city-state and socialization rituals. And he certainly didn't want to risk being seduced. That might break him, to be led astray. He might never return, and then his duties would be left undone.

"You seem quite convinced that this will be worth it," Telesphore, his voice a menacing purr.

"Yes ser, I am," Adi said. His voice did not crack, but it was small.

"I'll permit it, then, since you are so convinced," Telesphore said. "You cannot say I did not warn you, or that I have never done anything for you. That being said, I must be sure that you're strong enough to face the temptations and vile magicks up there."

Adi swallowed the protest: I didn’t ask your permission. He had known there would be a price to pay if he told Telesphore. He simply judged it was better than running away without telling him. To simply run would have risked his father's pursuit, and he doubted he'd survive that.

"Step forward, boy."

Telesphore held out his hand. His gloves were once-rich black velveteen worn to threadbare gray in the palm and fingers. In the center of his palm rested a tiny, circular seed, half the size of a grain of millioncorn and reddish brown. He recognized a sort of meatlike, rotten stink of it.

"An ochu seed?"

There was a touch of corruption to it, too, like the creatures that wandered aimlessly in Issom-Har, lonely and forgotten and susceptible to the call of the Void.

"Kneel."

Adi let go of Zinnia and kneeled as a dutiful son must. He expected that yank to his chin in lieu of the command to look up at him. His father’s grip was steel wrapped in softness, a dull pain that threatened the sharp sting of a slap.

"If you're going to succeed in the Fane, you're going to have to be better than all of them. You'll have to be exceptional. Fortunately, I have taught you so."

"Yes ser."

"I'm only going to encourage this thing to grow a little once you've swallowed it. If you can heal yourself as it eats you from the inside out, as well as eject it - well, then I know you won't embarrass me as your teacher when you train with those folk."

The cold grip of panic froze Adi's stomach solid "But I can't - I can't kill the thing once it's growing, you know that!"

"Of course, boy, I wouldn't forget. But you shouldn't have to. You're a genius, aren't you? Everyone always says. You're fit to surpass me, and a younger, healthier man than your poor ailing father, besides. If you do this for me, I'll never ask any more of you. I will allow you to study without complaint."

"He's our only son, for pity's sake!" Zinnia yelped, finally loud enough to be briefly heard. Adi could not look at his mother then. His father held his face too firmly.

"Don't be hysterical, woman. Do you have so little faith in my teachings?"

"No," Zinnia whispered. "I'm sorry," she said, though to whom, she did not make clear.

Adi sucked in his cheek between his back molars again. He thought about biting right through, but the tang of blood might make his flesh all the more tempting to an ochu nymph. His tongue ran over his cheek like dry sandpaper. This could be done. This had to be done. This was the father-son game they played since he was old enough to hold a wand: Telesphore created some new obstacle for him to magick past, always with exponential increases of danger and pain. This was just another. Possibly the last.

"Do you promise?" Adi tried to wet his dry lips with dry tongue. He clarified, "I'd have your full permission?"

"As long as you come back in sufficient time to marry when your studies are done. Your family needs you, Telesphoriade."

"And you would never test me like this again? Our training together would be concluded?"

Telesphore stroked his beard, tugging at the longest hairs at the point of his chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Now, boy, I didn't offer that."

Adi willed himself to be as still as the stone under his knees. "I'm saying that. I'm risking my life here, and I'm doing it for the family. If I pass this test I'd say things are well concluded."

"I suppose that's fair," Telesphore said, squeezing Adi's cheeks with his thumb and forefinger and shoving the seed in his mouth. A ripple of bright, fresh aether washed over him as Telesphore awakened and then fed the seedkin. He held his palm firmly over Adi's mouth. "Be good and swallow that," he said affectionately.

Adi gulped air, cradling the seed on his tongue as it began to wiggle into wakefulness. It grew to the size of a piece of a pearl chocolate, then larger. He pressed the back of his tongue against his soft palate, feeling as the roots grew and sought purchase, to latch on in the matter of the youngest ochu nymphs before they learned to lure prey with their stink. It was fragile, that little life, far too tender a thing to walk on its own yet, more plant than kin. An ochu nymph. His mouth filled with a foul, fleshy taste, with an undertone of vegetal rot. He gagged, but Telesphore held his mouth closed, so he could not hope to cough it up. His tongue tingled as the thing shoved its roots into the softness, and the flesh beneath as well, sucking at the aether like a hundred little chigoe proboscis.

Mere moments until this thing started feasting on something vital. If it crept upward into his brain, it probably wouldn’t hurt, but it would be too late. The other organs could be an unreliable gauge of that sort of thing too. He needed to be calm. He could best this. Or he would die, in which case it wouldn't matter if he'd panicked or not.

It hurt. It hurt so much his body was quickly going into shock, although the emotional shock of the situation could not be underestimated either. If Adi wasted a moment to reflect on the situation he'd surely tumble a precipice to madness. He needed to hone that energy into concentration for the few mere moments he'd have before fainting.

This was all part of being a conjurer. Not letting things get to you.

Adi held the image of the great tree in the center of the ruins he called home, growing upward and upward into the surface world, verdant and lush and lively and wise. He held its timeless, unshakable strength. He altered the flow of aether through his body to concentrate it from his core outwards, magnifying the aethersight technique his family mastered through one eye to create a line of clean, delicious aether to tempt the ochu out. Ochu were simple creatures, after all, and it was easily coaxed, following the strong, delicious flow of aether upward. Its roots trickled through the honeycomb of his sinuses. The fragile bones cracked from the intrusion and blood flowed from his nose. The sound was like the scrape of little rakes, or cockroach feet on the inside of his head. A lower sound, like the sound of Telesphore's hand tightening his fingers in a glove - the sound of growth, seemed to fill and surround him. Someone outside of him was screaming. Probably his mother. It might have been him. He couldn't feel singular things about his body at the moment, such as if his vocal chords were vibrating. All of his concentration, all of his aether flowed upward and out of him in a symphony of pain and light.

As he hoped, the softness of his eye was a far less resistant and complicated way to get to the aether the seedkin wished to feast on. It burst the sphere of fluids quite completely on its way out. Vitreous humor flowed down his cheek like tears, only a little thicker than the saltwater leaking from his other eye from the pain. For one glowing, frightening moment, his aethersight flowed though the ochu nymph. He saw through it as an extension of himself, stretched upward and blossoming with and hungry, blossoming with flesh-scented flowers toward the ceiling of the room. Other parasitic flowers sought out the richness of his aether, and the room was filled with blooms all straining for his life force. It grew so bright that the wash of light blinded his parents’ aether-sight. Telesphore let go of him, staggering back.

As the ochu nymph grew more solid and mature from its steady food source, it pulled itself free of Adi's eye socket, each root solidifying from threadlike, hairy roots into its more familiar appendages. Adi rapidly healed himself, effectively pushing it out of him with his own mended flesh, until the ochu nymph, discomfited by the movements, popped all the way out of his eye socket of its own accord. Adi cut off the flow of aether and swatted at the thing uselessly with his hand. It went skittering across the floor as Adi quickly sucked his remaining aether back into himself, performing several massive curative spells, mending his flesh in the wake of that violation. The screaming stopped. Perhaps it stopped awhile ago.

His mother laid in a heap on the floor. Still holding one hand over his empty space his left eye should be, he ran to Zinnia's side. Her pulse was faint, she wasn't breathing. His best guess was she had a heart episode due to her weakness, possibly from standing for so long. Adi's mind was still a jumble. He wouldn't be able to examine her properly now - she was in a bad way. "Cure her!" He screamed at Telesphore. "Please! I've almost nothing left. It could kill me to try."

Telesphore had retreated to his throne. "Didn't you say you were willing to risk your life? You might have to make these sorts of decisions, you know. Up there."

"She's your wife, she loves you better than me!" Adi said, though he wasn't sure why that would make a difference this time. “You should care...” He cast a healing spell to stabilize her, and, dizzied and sticky with his own blood and eyefluid, barely strong enough to stand or walk, he tried to regrow his eye as well. He could not complete the whole-cloth reconstruction of a complicated organ. All that he managed was a pale eye-shaped orb of tissue, each feature incomplete. He slouched on his knees beside his mother, and wished he had something left inside him. A tear to cry. A word to say.

"Half-baked," Telesphore sneered at his botched attempt. "And sloppy. You might as well not have bothered. You'll never see out that eye again. And that scarring - tch. Your looks were already a disadvantage."

"I did what you asked," Adi whimpered. He did his best to smooth Zinnia's hair out of her face with the back of his hand, so he would not dirty her with his filth. "So let me go. Say you'll let me go."

"You're a man, aren't you? You don't need my permission."

[thefatalmarksman]

AU: Ancient Aliens Are Real and They Wear Cowboy Hats

a.k.a.

I Am Hyperfocused on Borderlands and Am Thoroughly Suffering for My Obsession

[[subject to change / additions]]

Name: Prefers “Xigbar” when in human form and “Luxu” in  Guardian form, but has gone by many names

Age: Centuries old. Like. Yikes old.

Birthdate: Unknown

Origin: Nekrotafeyo

Species: Eridian / Guardian hybrid

Languages: Common, Eridian

Height: 6’0” (about 183 cm) as human; 8′0″ (about 244 cm) as Eridian

Weight: Approx. 300 lbs (about 136 kg), but condensed to about 180-ish lbs (82-ish kg) when in human form

Sex/Gender: Identifies with male pronouns/physiology

Sexual Orientation: Humans oops

History:

Eons ago, the Eridians ruled over the universe. They traveled the stars, making their marks on planets far and wide by building monuments to their accomplishments in the form of the Vaults, which contained not only vast riches, but powerful creatures amassed by the Eridians to protect such riches.

However, this was not meant to last.

A sect of Eridians called the Foretellers were led by one called the Master. Gifted with the power of foresight, the Master had written out the entirety of the past and future in the Book of Prophecies.

Knowing that his visions would soon come to pass, the Master divvied up Tasks for his Apprentices, and, once that had been completed, sought to create his final and most vital apprentice---one that would be Eridian of origin, but enhanced by Guardian synthetic technology. Dubbed Luxu, the Master cared for him until he had matured, and, when the time was right, shared with him the haunting vision that plagued him: that, very soon, the entire Eridian race would meet their preordained demise.

However, the Master also revealed that Luxu was destined to be one of the few survivors of this devastating massacre, as he had been built specifically to withstand the centuries that his Task would take to reach fulfillment. And one day, the Master guaranteed that Luxu would witness the return of the Master himself.

He then bestowed upon Luxu the Black Box, which contained only what the Master described as “hope,” a nameless Eridian rifle, which Luxu jokingly called “No Name” (and it ended up sticking, weirdly enough), and the “Gazing Eye,” which replaced Luxu’s right eye, meant to remain there for “safekeeping.” Then, ordered merely to “observe” the sequence of events that would transpire, Luxu witnessed the end of the Eridians at the hands of Nyriad, a Siren who sealed away the Destroyer within Pandora.

Centuries upon centuries passed, and as the rise of humankind reached its peak, Luxu realized that he could not retain this form without drawing suspicion. Using technology that since collected dust, Luxu was able to fit himself into human skin (and yes, it is pretty gross) in order to walk amongst their ilk. He went by many names, assumed numerous identities, accumulated a rather handsome amount of wealth (which he would occasionally spare to the various corporations that dotted the galaxy), and soon enough, he had become “Xigbar,” a gun-for-hire and scourge to Pandora.

And despite being told merely to “observe,” at times Xigbar just can’t help getting himself involved...

Abilities:

Auto duel wielding (modified ATLAS pistols named “Sharpshooters”)

Action Skill: Critical Snipe. Transports above the playing field, auto-lock barrage of bullets for a limited time.

The Gazing Eye - moves from human skin into Eridian form and summons No Name (as it cannot be wielded while in human form), which delivers powerful critical hits. Time also stops for a while, allowing Xigbar to freely wander the playing field to attack his foes until the Eye deactivates

Weaknesses:

Due to his age, his true form has weakened over the course of time and is highly susceptible to electric-based weaponry. Any damage his true form obtains reflects on his human form

In addition, as he continues hopping bodies, they tend to age slightly faster each time

Because he’s fitted his form into a human skin, at times there are “seams” that crack the flesh that will glow violet due to the Eldritch Eridian energy powering his upgraded frame. This is why he dresses in layers, and touching Sirens with his bare flesh makes this glow more intense.

Side Info:

Due to being an Eridian and Guardian amalgam, Luxu did not quite fit in anywhere within Eridian society, as Guardians were viewed as “lesser.” Therefore, Luxu spent much of his time in seclusion, studying various subjects that piqued his interests.

While it’s true the Gazing Eye must be exposed in order for it to activate, often Xigbar keeps it under wraps until he “knows” its use is required. This “knowledge” comes in the form of an ache,  it is that events have already been recorded, but still need to be recorded, thus it’s all predetermined when it must be revealed. ...Yeah, it’s an Oracle thing.

The name of his ship is the Tiresias.

[mysticandskepticmuses]

So because I can, I’m going to basically pick and choose from various vampire canons in terms of lore, abilities etc. to create my particular preferences for my oc Alexander.  ATM, they go as follows:

he can walk about in sunlight for very limited amounts of time if he is fully fed, otherwise unharmed, mainly because of his extensive age, but we’re really only talking minutes rather than hours - it is not a pleasant experience and it’s really only a parlor trick he pulls out when he absolutely has to make an appearance or has a meeting that cannot be otherwise handled / postponed / etc. he can last about fifteen minutes before suffering external trauma after twenty minutes it’s noticeable to most anyone and while he could probably survive being stuck outside for a full day it would take years and ridiculous amounts of blood to restore his health unless some other magical intervention or extremely powerful blood was available to heal him.  (i may opt for him having a daylight / daywalking ring or brooch or necklace at some point later but i haven’t quite decided).

he has super speed, strength, agility, has skin that is extremely hard to penetrate but not impossible, he can climb walls and leap extreme distances, he is capable of moving at speeds impossible for the human eye to track and he can fly but does not change shapes or turn into a bat or smoke etc.

he does not have to sleep in the earth, or in a coffin, but he does have earth of his homeland in most of his permanent estates and does have sunlight proof /fire proof rooms below ground in most of them as well, and does have things like sun proof windows / curtains / shutters etc. installed in his many residences.  when traveling he has safe guards like his own curtains to hang in his rooms, will sleep under the bed or in closets etc. if necessary.  

he can glamour / hypnotize / command people to his control, to make them do anything for the most part, he’s only met a few in his 4000 years that have been able to resist him.  he cannot glamour other vampires unless they have fed on his blood / are off his bloodline.

he can create ‘ghouls’ aka humans or animals that feed on his blood and this allows him to better control them, manipulate them, for them to sense his intentions and desires if the bond is strong enough, to know if he is in danger etc. extended exposure to his blood concretes the bond of ghoul to master to the point that they would do anything to protect him / to make him happy (renfield etc.) even killing themselves or loved ones to keep him safe.  this bond also allows him to sense their emotions, if it goes on long enough to read their thoughts.  the humans / animals that feed on his blood become stronger, faster, more intelligent, require less sleep, have more stamina, heal faster, etc. the blood is an addiction and can lead to some detrimental side effects if he with holds it or if the ghoul is unable to be fed for some other reason - he often has stashes of his blood stored in his estates for servants or his current paramour in case he doesn’t return before they need a ‘refill’ - usually once a month is enough to maintain / further strengthen the bond.  

he does have a soul per se but if his humanity / attachments to the world lessen beneath a certain level then it’s pretty much the same as turning off humanity or losing his soul and it takes about four times as much effort to creep up that ladder back towards ‘human’ than it does to fall down the ladder.  he’s gone up and down over his many years but very rarely has he succumbed to the darker nature of his species for long.  he prefers to hover at a middle ground, being more immoral than evil, content to linger in the very murky grey, neither very good, nor very evil.

he can eat human food and drink but it does nothing to sate his actual hunger.

he can survive quite some time without blood because of his age but he relishes in the act of feeding and will usually feed at least once a night because… he can.  a few drops of his blood on the wound seals the bite marks and a quick glamour makes the victim forget all about it.  he rarely kills anymore unless it’s necessary to protect himself, his property, etc. or if he’s entirely too riled up - though that’s a fairly rare occurrence.

his eyes are preternaturally dark, but usually that’s just written off as one of his traits - they can gleam a crimson sheen when he’s feeding or extremely angry or lustful etc. but it isn’t something most people see, or would notice unless looking for it specifically.

his fangs retract and protract at his behest, he has four elongated upper canines and two elongated lower canines.  

to create a childer he must drain them to the point of death and feed them his own blood, then bury them in the earth and wait for them to rise.  

a stake to the heart, prolonged exposure to fire or sunlight, beheading are the most efficient ways to kill him though he’s survived quite a long time and is faster and stronger than most of his species, especially the modern generation whose blood has been so diluted / weakened over the millennia.  each generation of vampire created is a little bit ‘less’ than the one before it etc.

garlic, holy water, silver, crosses etc. have no effect on him.

yes he can have sex, no, he can’t father children biologically though he has adopted and raised children throughout the ages.

he casts a reflection & can be caught on film / photography / video.

he is affected by drugs, alcohol, poisons but on a much, much, much smaller degree than humans because his metabolism is practically nonexistent as he doesn’t actually absorb human food or drinks.  the only things that his body can actually absorb are blood, so anything that might mingle with his blood has a very, very minor effect on him.  human diseases by and large do not effect him as his blood is strong enough and powerful enough to simply eat away at any imperfections in any blood he might drink.  he can become affected by drugs and alcohol in the system of the humans / other vampires he feeds off of and if he’s looking for an actual buzz / high he’ll go find someone already intoxicated or drugged to feed off of.  while the buzz doesn’t last as long for him as humans, it still affects him until he has used up / burned through the blood.

he does not have a discernible heartbeat and he does not require breath, though he does breathe.  

while he is not bound by the need for earth from his homeland for normal sleep and recuperation, if he is badly damaged or enters a state of torpor being stored in a casket in the earth from greece or in greece itself does increase his speed of healing.

he can choose to go into a state of slumber for long periods of time, with something of a mental alarm clock that is set for however long he wishes to rest, or until where he slumbers is disturbed, or if a mental call from one of his ghouls awakens him.  upon awakening, depending on how long he was asleep, it takes longer for him to gain clarity and strength and he must ususally feed in greater frequency/quantity than if he has been awake and normally functioning.

he is not immune to binding spells / circles etc. meant for the damned / undead / or if the witch etc. is in possession of his true name - something that he has taken great pains to eradicate from history for predominantly this reason.  he can be controlled via necromancy, though it takes a pretty powerful witch to be able to counter his age / power / natural willpower.  

he has learned mental skills to block minor telepaths but is not entirely invulnerable to them especially if they are powerful or are making a targeted invasion into his thoughts

he does not have any ability to prevent dreamwalkers etc. from entering his dreams and often encounters ghosts and restless spirits in his sleeping thoughts.

I will say that Alexander is susceptible to the effects of vervain as seen in TVD - humans that wear it or imbibe it are protected from his mesmerism and if they’ve drunk it their blood weakens him / if he drinks or eats something with it in it will weaken him though not entirely stupefied etc.

Also he can usually sense other supernatural creatures as being in the vicinity by that prickle at the nape of the neck sensation but if in a crowd etc it won’t be immediately pinpointed. Generally when close enough to catch the persons scent the distinct elements of their blood will at least point him in the right direction - if he’s crossed paths with one he’s identified before. Werecreatures tend to smell like their other form, vampires especially metallic and don’t typically have heartbeats plus other telltale signs that might vary per subspecies (aka a particular verse canon), witches smell like whatever particular element they relate to etc etc. Dragons the same but with a distinct ozone / metallic undertone and so forth. Sirens, mermaids etc smell like the sea. (happy to adapt specifics per other characters canon or preference per thread BTW)

As far as cross canon interactions I am fine with assuming there is more than one species / bloodline of vampires thus resulting in different canons having different weaknesses etc. If Alexanders abilities and powers being different from your characters canon is a problem for some reason feel free to come talk to me I’m sure we can work something out.

Also I’m going to go with the fact that a stake will immobilize him (ie the originals in tvd etc) but it takes fire, sunlight, beheading etc. to actually kill him just because he’s literally fucking ancient.  This allows for more opportunities w/ plots where he might be incapacitated etc. and actually works as a vulnerability imo rather than a bonus.

& If necessary Alexander can burn through stores of his blood for an extreme boost to strength, durability, willpower (to resist torture, supernatural methods of control, to keep his temper in check), to heal faster (useful for enduring sunlight longer etc), to move faster etc. But the cost is pretty poignant and if he burns through too much and his reserves of blood get too low he risks either being forced into unconsciousness with all of its inherent vulnerabilities or full out losing control and going on a rampage until he feeds enough to satiate himself fully.

[its-love-u-asshole]

No Use Crying over Spilled Cola [fic]

Pairings: Bokuto Koutarou/Akaashi Keiji

Summary: Sneaking into an R-rated movie should not have been this difficult for two sirens, but here they were. Tsukishima always had to make things difficult. Then again, maybe Bokuto should be thanking him this time around...

Or: Akaashi was not expecting his ears to bleed that day, but life is full of the unexpected. 

Prequel to Slipping Underneath 

Rating: T

Tags: soulmates, mythology/sirens AU, mini prequel to slipping underneath

Note: ....I know I said the next part of this verse would be semishira (and I am writing that!!), but I had to write a quick gift for @kirinokisu​ , because she's the sweetest and also an amazing writer! Please go check out her stuff *_* Ju, I know you liked this verse and liked the bokutsukki especially, so I hope you enjoy this ; ; I've actually never really written bokuaka before so this feels weird but hopefully their characterizations aren't too off ^^ iluuu and stay awesome <3 

AO3

They say sirens were majestic creatures.

The words 'divine beauty' and 'youthfulness' were often encountered when studying the mythical beings, and to Bokuto, even the term 'siren' carried a certain degree of unmistakable grace and deadliness.

He was proud of it. Grateful for his lineage.

Sirens were straight up badass, and when his voice finally perfected itself, he was going to have the best voice of them all.

Bokuto had been quite enamored with this part of his identity at a young age, still was. But now, at the ripe age of seventeen, he knew the complete truth.

This complete truth, while still very cool, made him want to throw the whole mythology section of the library away.

None of those dusty ass scholars ever had to watch him crouch willingly on the dirty mall floor, head peeking out every which way while his braces wearing, french fry of a best friend stood beside him.

Divine Beauty. Pft.

Don't get him wrong, Bokuto thought he was hot as fuck. But this...was not his proudest moment.

But it wasn't all his fault.

"Kou, c'mon, let's go home. It's not happening," Tsukishima said, arms crossed and his eyes defiantly fixed on the ground. The blond stood firm, rigid almost, the loudness of the mall around them obviously stressing him out more than he'd care to admit. He hadn't moved in about five minutes, more than satisfied with arguing instead.

So basically, he wasn't helping at all.

"No way!" Bokuto whined, and he paid no attention to his best friend's continued complaints. The blond was supposed to be keeping watch. He heard Tsukishima groan, but it didn't deter Bokuto's surveillance of the area.

The bustle around them rang in his ears, the loud chatter and footsteps on cheap tile mixing with the overload of smells. Popcorn, nachos.... he wondered if Tsukishima would go splitsies with him.

Usually he did, as long as Bokuto got candy too...maybe they'd have those butterscotch ones this time...or maybe--

"This isn't going to work," Tsukishima hissed, finally crouching down beside Bokuto as they stared ahead.

The promise land is upon us...

Well, they had to get in first. And given how Tsukishima was being, Bokuto would have to work some serious magic to accomplish that. Normally, Bokuto would've been more considerate of Tsukishima's anxiety levels, but he was not letting the blond compromise this mission.

Their mission. The only mission one could possibly have, the mission to fulfill their dream of seeing the newest horror film in theaters before any of their classmates.

Yeah, worthy aspirations. Some 'getting into med school' type shit.

Bokuto huffed, his eyes staying trained on the movie theater doors as large groups of people filtered in, laughing and eager to see the newest blockbuster. The trailers would be starting in about ten minutes, and Bokuto did not like missing those.

He'd rather die.

"It would totally work if you'd stop being such a worry wart," Bokuto shot back, pouting to himself. His mood was gradually slipping as time became more and more constrained, and lucky he was here with Tsukishima and not some other classmate.

Bokuto was not really in the mood to feign smiles or content when on the inside he was freaking out.

(Not that he ever was able to reel in his emotions, but...with Tsukishima at least he didn't have to be embarrassed about it. Mostly.)

"Well you're being a baby," Tsukishima said.

"You are."

"Oh man, you came hard with that clapback," Tsukishima said, feigning hurt as he adjusted his glasses. If they'd had more time, Bokuto might've pointed out how huge they looked on his face but fine. He'd be civil.

Tsukishima scoffed as Bokuto stuck out his tongue, nodding towards the ticket check-in. "There's no way we're getting passed them with our Disney movie tickets."

"We could, if you just--"

"I'm not singing!"

Bokuto stood then, nearly knocking Tsukishima over (ha). Eight minutes to trailers.

He threw his hands up, because he knew for a fact Tsukishima's worries weren't ethical in nature. As if.

The blond cheated his way out of free candy each time they went to the movies, he was a pure scoundrel.

The plan had been simple, and it wasn't like they were trying to commit murder. First, they purchase tickets for an age appropriate movie (they weren't thieves ok?), then they'd simply sneak into the movie they actually wanted to see. Only problem was getting past the ticket check. The theater had gotten really strict about making sure people went into the correct room, and Bokuto knew he and Tsukishima would be watched the whole time. After all, they did look like punk high schoolers. Not even Tsukishima's braces and nerd attire could erase the suspicion. He also knew the Disney movie they'd actually paid for was in the opposite direction of the horror film screen room, so they'd stick out for sure. And on top of it all, they looked too young to make a convincing pair of adults.

So, the solution was simple.

Tsukishima would sing softly under his breath, mildly dazing the staff enough for them to slip past. Perfect.

(Also yes, Bokuto could admit that at this point in time, Tsukishima was a bit more experienced than him when it came to his vocal prowess, but it wouldn't last forever.)

Bokuto grabbed Tsukishima's shoulders, and the blond didn't look shocked in the least bit. "You did it all the time when you and Akiteru went to the movies!"

"Yeah, exactly! Akiteru would always be there," Tsukishima said, eyes darting to the side. As nervous as he was, his cheeks held a light flush, like he was mortified to admit his own shortcomings.

Right, because Tsukishima carried the air of confidence, but really he was just as unsure of things as Bokuto sometimes.

Tsukishima glared at Bokuto's shirt, not making eye contact as his voice dropped to a low mumble. "I...I don't know if I can do it without him here. He usually coaches me through it and I don't know...it's comforting when he's here."

"Wow, lame."

"You know what--"

Bokuto laughed then, waving his hands between them in case Tsukishima actually decided to maim him. "Okay, okay, I get it."

And he did. Akiteru had a weird knack for making someone feel like they could do anything. Hell, Bokuto would jump off a cliff if Akiteru smiled at him and told him he'd most definitely survive.

And they said Akiteru didn't inherit any siren abilities...lies.

"Huh, guess I'll just have to do it then," Bokuto said, hands on his hips. He felt much better about this now. Although he knew Tsukishima had more practice and skill, like he'd said, how hard could it be? It would be fine, right? He only needed to sing a few quiet notes and they'd be home free!

Why hadn't they done this from the start?

Bokuto was probably so used to Tsukishima competing with him that he wasn't used to having the other step down.

This feels great.

Or it did, until he heard Tsukishima's piss poor job at hiding his laugh.

Bokuto glared as the blond's shoulders shook, and he angrily pushed his bangs out of his eyes (man, one day he'd have to really figure out what to do with his hair. Spikes would be cool....), and Tsukishima laughed harder.

Forget the trailers, you're going to learn today.

But before Bokuto could pounce, Tsukishima's smirk cut his spirit in two, and he faltered. Noooo.

"Kou, you can't sing quietly to save your life," Tsukishima said, his show of haughtiness coming back for a reunion special. "You're gonna make the whole movie theater wanna jump your bones and I'm not in the mood to diffuse that situation. I will leave you behind."

The. Nerve.

Bokuto balked, his protests reduced to nothing but choked syllables and pathetic cries. "I--no you--that's--ugh! I can so be quiet!"

To punctuate the statement's authenticity, Bokuto stomped his foot against the floor. Nailed it.

At the shout, a few people walking nearby jumped, and Tsukishima laughed again at Bokuto's sheepish smile.

Okay, so perhaps being reserved wasn't a strong suit of his, but what was the point of singing quietly in most situations! His voice sounded amazing, and he wanted to share it. Plus, he'd never find his soulmate unless he sang as loud as possible!

So, to summarize: forget what Tsukishima said.

Of course, Bokuto couldn't ignore his best friend altogether.

"Yeah right, we're going to end up watching this Disney movie and you know it," Tsukishima said, his smile smug as he waved the ticket in Bokuto's face. Never.

"Maybe you want to see the Disney movie," Bokuto shot back, his childish jab hardly causing a dent in Tsukishima's defense. Had to try.

"Maybe I do, but that's not the point." Tsukishima checked his phone then, and his smile got wider, as if reading Bokuto's mind. "Huh, look at this. Five minutes to the trailers."

You're playing with fire here pal.

But Bokuto wouldn't be swayed so easily. He might've been susceptible to 'moods' sometimes, but with Tsukishima he would fight until the end. The blond deserved it.

I'll show you.

Bokuto could already feel it, the hum building in his throat. The usual excitement and anticipation which came with singing...it was like a high, better than his favorite food or fresh air. He could feel the melody in his veins, the notes begging to be let out, an urge he'd never fully be able to explain with words alone. His heart and mind simply knew when the music was coming, when the opportunity to use his gift was upon him, and who was he to hold back?

Bokuto pushed his hair back again, standing tall and not paying attention to anything except the song inside his soul.

"I'll prove it," Bokuto said with a smirk, and he could see the exact moment when Tsukishima realized what he was about to do. The blond's protests fell on deaf ears.

"Kou--Koutarou, wait, stop-"

Too late. Bokuto forced his voice to a reasonable octave, or what he hoped was a quieter one than his normal voice, and let the notes flow from his lips. His brow furrowed at the sound, because while it was beautiful, more than any human's voice could hope to be, it was still clearly immature for a siren.

He watched as Tsukishima glared at him, but Bokuto only took it as a sign of victory.

At least, until he heard a sudden crash behind him.

He gasped, startled, his voice breaking away into nothing, and turned to find the source of the noise. Maybe he hadn't been as quiet as he'd hoped...it was known to happen. Guys would run into each other trying to approach him for more of the intoxicating tune. Bokuto winced to himself. He sure hoped it wasn't too bad this time.

Instead of two bleary eyed wannabe lover boys though, Bokuto found another teen sprawled out on the floor, his popcorn all over the place. His soda wasn't in much better shape, fizzing in a large puddle on the white tile, and Bokuto knew he'd royally fucked up.

The guilt would've been festering, if not for the awe which overtook it.

The boy in front of him had the most beautiful face Bokuto had ever seen, regardless of the small breakout on his left cheek. His limbs were long, his frame lanky, like he hadn't exactly come into his body yet, and the perturbed face he had on was by no means attractive. It looked more like the other had caught a whiff of dog shit, and his dark hair was littered with popcorn kernels, his pant leg stained with cola.

Bokuto thought he must've been an angel.

Oh shit, if he starts flirting with me I'm totally gonna pop a boner, shitfuck--

"Uh...Kou," Tsukishima whispered, squinting at the boy in front of them. The blond stepped closer to Bokuto, peering around him at the scene as people walked by. Luckily, none of the other mall goers had been affected. Good thing no one else had been close enough apart from the angel.

The weird thing about that was...the angel wasn't trying to get Bokuto's attention, or 'jump his bones' as Tsukishima had put it.

He just...stared at the floor, brow furrowed and expression wary. His eyes were clear, not spellbound in the slightest, and he cautiously reached up, patting his ears.

For whatever reason, it sent Bokuto into action. He sprang forward, and screw volume control. "I'm so sorry! Holy crap, I...I didn't mean to...are you okay?"

The other nodded slowly, but didn't reply otherwise, and Bokuto wondered if he'd actually heard anything he'd said. Bokuto reached down, lifting the other boy up effortlessly until he was on his feet. He tried not to think about how nice the other smelled up close (minus the popcorn), or how pretty and shale colored his eyes were.

Shit.

"Seriously are you okay?" Bokuto began rambling again, ignoring the flush on his face and Tsukishima's cheeky grin (meanie). "I can buy you new food, or whatever you want...I'm really--"

"What..." The other's dazed question stopped Bokuto's tirade, and the voice was like music to Bokuto's ears, so calm and pleasant. Not loud or boisterous like his, but nice and smooth all the same. "What was that?"

The boy shook the last of his confusion out of his eyes, and his expression turned more neutral. If Bokuto didn't know any better, he'd say the other looked disinterested, but the warmth and curiosity swimming in his eyes was a big giveaway.

Double shit, I'm screwed.

Now, Bokuto could feel guilty about gawking at people other than his soulmate, but he figured all was fair until he actually met his one true love. Plus, how could someone not be taken by this guy?

"What...was what?" Bokuto choked out, and god he was going to kick Tsukishima for laughing later.

The angel squinted, as if second guessing himself. "Didn't you hear that noise?"

Well, at least it made Tsukishima's laughter stop. Bokuto looked over to his friend, and the blond only shrugged.

Goddammit Kei, you're supposed to know this stuff.

It was a doozy though. Since when could humans remember hearing their voices? There must've been exceptions, but Bokuto didn't know of any himself, and had no idea how to rationalize it away.

"Um...what noise?" Playing dumb was the one real option. He could practically hear Tsukishima face palm behind him.

"I don't know...it sounded like..." The angel shook his head, and Bokuto quickly got ready to receive the praise.

Enchanting? Melodious? Grand?

"Like two thousand can openers going off at once," the other said, no a hint of hesitation present in his voice as he scowled into the distance.

….specific.

Tsukishima fucking lost it.

While Bokuto's brain tried to reboot itself, the blond strode up, bowing quickly. "Tsukishima Kei. The oaf here with the can opener voice is Bokuto Koutarou." The words 'you're now my favorite person' went unsaid.

Bokuto didn't have the brain power to dispute that.

"Akaashi Keiji," Akaashi said, but the confusion hadn't left his features. "What do you mean his voice?"

Sometimes Tsukishima reminded Bokuto of a cat, mischievous in his own way, and Bokuto wondered who could ever be able to match the blond's particular brand of viciousness. The blond smirked, eyes not leaving Akaashi. "That's what you heard. Bokuto was trying to sing."

The emphasis on 'trying' finally snapped Bokuto out of it, and he turned on Tsukishima, ready to fight. Tsukishima's smile didn't let up. "I was singing! I was great too, you're just jealous! It's not my fault Akaashi didn't like--"

Bokuto's breath caught, and he choked on the words, the realization dawning on him.

Tsukishima arched a brow, triumphant and annoyed all at once.

Oh.

Oh.

"No way," Bokuto whispered to himself, distraught.

Tsukishima just sighed. "Apparently yes way. Ugh, gross."

Bokuto's mouth hung open, and Tsukishima promptly closed it.

This is the best day of my life.

The joy overshadowed the dread he felt towards Tsukishima too, since Bokuto knew the blond would never let him live this down. There's no way. No way, no way, no--

Bokuto spun around, facing Akaashi again, and while Bokuto knew Tsukishima didn't exactly like the whole soulmate thing, Bokuto would dare the blond to deny the obvious spark which came when Akaashi's eyes met his.

Judging from the way he heard the blond gag, Bokuto knew he was right.

Bokuto felt the shock, like a bass drop, the beat of his life and heart no doubt syncing up with Akaashi's, whether the other knew it or not. Akaashi notably tried to keep his expression stern and unaffected, but Bokuto's thousand-watt grin must've gotten to him at some point, because the raven's cheeks heated up a few seconds later.

Bokuto completely forgot about the trailers.

When it seemed their little staring contest wouldn't end any time soon, Tsukishima sighed, tapping Akaashi's shoulder until he looked his way. Aw.

"Hey, I'm assuming you were going to see a movie, right?" Tsukishima asked, gesturing to the mess of soggy popcorn and soda. Bokuto kept staring, on cloud nine with Akaashi's every move.

Akaashi nodded, completely lost. "Yes, but my ticket is currently dissolving in my drink."

And before Bokuto could speak, Tsukishima leapt into action. Bokuto could never say the blond wasn't a good friend.

"Perfect. Bokuto will reimburse you." Shamelessly, Tsukishima dug around in his pocket, and then handed Akaashi his movie ticket before sauntering off (to where, only fate knew). "Have fun losers."

Bokuto didn't bother watching his friend leave, but secretly promised to buy him whatever dessert he wanted next time they went out. Savings be damned.

Akaashi shook his head again, glancing at the new ticket stub, and shrugged. The pull must've been mutual, that or Akaashi didn't see Bokuto as a threat or possible murderer. For that, he was thankful.

Bokuto sighed as Akaashi threw him a soft smile, unable to help the dreaminess from seeping through. Akaashi held up his ticket, but it didn't help to obscure the brightness of his blush. "Shall we?"

Bokuto blinked, waiting to wake up from his dream, but never wanting it to end. Oh well. If it was a dream, he'd stay in it for as long as he could.

And somehow, Akaashi's question felt more loaded than it should've, demanding explanations and answers which Bokuto would happily give in time.

For now though, he'd enjoy the other's company for the first night of many (he hoped), and try his best to tame the new song inside his head.

It was a shame though. The one person who inspired it would never be able to hear it, and Bokuto felt a small inkling of disappointment as he walked with Akaashi to the theater.

But then again, Bokuto didn't give up hope, and as Akaashi glanced back at him with those gorgeous eyes, he knew he never would.

One day, he thought, definitely one day.

[sue-me-im-rich-blog]

Making It Rich With The Usage Of The Forex Tracer

Amongst all the rare-earth elements, gold is the most popular as an investment. Investors usually think about gold as a safe haven. Monetary professionals suggest gold as an excellent inflation proof financial investment. This is since gold is a trusted possession, which preserves its value even in times of economic instability or social turbulence.

Get a miner. There are a number of mining choices for numerous platforms although OSXusers may discover themselves in a little a pickle. Miners use extra GPU cycles to bitcoin buy india power the mining operation, comparable to services like SeTi. Miners, however, utilize these types of cycles to assist manage peer-to-peer procedures connected with bitcoins. For that reason by doing "work" you are protecting the network also.

Man Has $16,500 Worth Of Bitcoin Stolen From Mtgox

Go to this site Although this is simplified, it is essentially how the system operates. You work for shares in a block when complete you get a percent of the block based on the quantity of workers together with you, less charges. Using this strategy will earn you money.

The 5 Advantages Of Utilizing A Automated Forex Trading System

So, yes. Fundamental economics would recommend that when bitcoin rises in price commerce on the Silk Roadway might decrease. However exactly what the chattering class is disregarding is that when that takes place the merchants of the Silk Road, and anyone who is conserving their bitcoin, make money from their cost savings. So, they win in either case.

The human mind is such that it makes even the most appropriate truths appear inappropriate. Brains are only vulnerable to the approval of the old. Rare is the intellect that accepts the new and the book. Coins and paper cash have actually remained in use practically since, well not since dinosaurs and stone aged guys clubbing ladies stone cold on their moving towards wives, but at least considering that the human race became a smart types, so to say the least.

Man Has $16,500 Worth Of Bitcoin Stolen From Mtgox

Again, I am not a monetary advisor, however my humble recommendation: mainly bullion (the cost of the coin comes strictly from the mineral continued, not from collector value); American Eagles, Canadian Maple Leaves, and South American Kruggerands.

These individuals, who were not employable in great times, are going to be political wild cards. So in addition to having a substantial population of individuals who are educated but still utterly divorced from reality and ready to blame everyone and anyone for the tough times ahead- we are going to have a big stupid and hungry population a lot more susceptible to the siren song of all manner of demagogues. Additional top of all this- a security state and military, that the majority of Americans discover alien and have actually had little to do with at all which has actually spent the much better part of 50 years acquiring the wicked habits of empire abroad ... let's simply state that America is about to get a few of that 20th century dreadful history that we mostly left from due only to geography and best of luck.

[maximuswolf]

Stop spreading probable false information about LSD potency and effect - a comment via /r/LSD

Stop spreading probable false information about LSD potency and effect - a comment

Im just baffled by people on here claiming ludicrous things day in and day out, for example taking ridicilous doses like 1000+µg and being "fully functional", chilling in the park alone at night or claiming that they achieved this "1000µg dose" by taking "4 tripple quadruple dipped super rainbow power ranger 250µg tabs", smoking a blunt and dropping a hand of other substances at the same time. Hell, even 400µg would be enough to make my point...

Cause they are not. No street tab has the same potency, if you have no reference you have no clue what you are talking about potency wise. Dealers sell a product, they dont know what the hell is on those tabs, thats why things like NBOME is sold as acid.

I am convinced that 90% of people have no reference whatsoever of what e.g.100µg of true LSD feel like and the tripreports i read about supposed 300, 500 or even 700µg etc. doses make one think that LSD starts taking effect at like 300µg but nothing could be further from the truth.

As a person who has legal access to officially lab-made actual LSD derivates (1P-LSD before it became illegal and now 1cp-LSD), just like many others in europe, I can say that most people who claim to have 150+µg random street tabs have nothing more than like 80µg tabs at max, or use heavily within their tolerance, when I compare their reports to personal experiences. I know that personal experiences vary heavily in between users but those differences cant be explained by the user entirely. Lets also assume that LSD derivates are directly converted into normal LSD as most of the little research there is shows. Yes tabs with high potency do exist but so do duds, NBOME and underdosed tabs.

Here is what one single tab of labmade 100µg of 1cp-LSD does to the user with no tolerance:

Heavy visuals, breathing and warping on everything, trees and textures flow constantly

Closed eye visuals of colors, patterns, things or people

Sense of touch, hearing, time and movement/speed become completely warped, strong disassociation with the surrounding, it looks and feels like everything is unknown and new. Things can feel wet even tho they are not, the outside of the skin can feel like the inside of the body, cracks or other sounds can seem like they take place right in your ear.

Intense euphoria and starting to grind teeth from comeup to peak

On the peak it becomes virtually impossible to have any sense of direction in a unknown environment or at night unless you have a cellphone or someone to guide you

Comedown: A feeling of exhaustion but fulfillment and inability to sleep which often ends in staying awake the complete night.

Mind is often overwhelmed with impressions and occasional panic and paranoia can settle in without noticing it which can lead to thought loops or a bad trip unless youre experienced or have a experienced guide.

The mental effect can not be described but one becomes extremely susceptible to things that happen around. Hear a police siren? The police is onto you. Hear your doorbell when the postman comes around? The police is onto you. See a suspicious looking car outside with someone sitting in there? The police is onto you. Your knowledge about human nature and interactions become completely warped and it is very hard to follow conversation or make sense out of sentences at all.

This is not meant as a post to ridicule people who are actual psychonauts and are experienced in meditation and tripping and are able to do and integrate doses of e.g. 500+µg, but as a warning to people who actually believe that they just bought tripple dipped 200µg tabs and that it is a good idea to take two of those because of things they read here and then write a trip report that reminds me of a 150µg trip at most.... Yes the chance that they actually are 200µg and not just 50 is pretty slim but if they are that person might go through a incredible trauma.

I myself almost took too much the first time because of platforms and reports like on here. instead I chose to "take it slow" and "only" take 150µg as a introduction, one and a half tabs of labmade acid which put me into almost ego death for an hour. This is not a drinking game, its not a race. Taking high doses cause of a challenge or forcing a profound experience is not good and should not be done. Doing less will get you to better places in your life. Yes You can take too much acid.

No not all bad trips are good trips in disguise. Some people cannot deal with a bad trip the same as others do especially when they dont inform themselves about the substance and dont even get me started to talk about usage in combination with e.g. Weed for new people.

So as I said. This post is not intended to be toxic or point fingers at people and I hope that you will finish reading before commenting. Peace.

Submitted October 07, 2020 at 05:29PM by cptpayday via reddit https://ift.tt/30IEt5e

[fuzzhugs]

Siren Song: A Redwall Hell Fanfic

Any creature that met Bogfoot the rat and Embertail the fox soon had no doubt in their mind that they were a pair of foul creatures. Theft, extortion, murder. The vile pair had remorselessly committed every evil act a creature was capable of and yet still found ways to add to their notoriety. The vermin were making their way through the woodlands, searching for some new prey to torment.

“I’m gettin’ ‘ungry, Ember,” Bogfoot grunted to the fox. “Wheres we get some vittles?” Bogfoot was a creature of few words, largely due to his dim mental faculties, but also to his preference to express himself with the spiked club he carried.

“Patience, Boggy,” Embertail replied, “There’s bound to be some lone woodlander nearby, and they always have their homes filled with all sorts of goodies.” Embertail licked at his teeth as he thought about the food he would find. He was just as hungry as Bogfoot, but the fox knew he wouldn’t get far if he listened to his stomach more than his head, and his head told him he needed Bogfoot. Embertail may have had brains, but he was weak compared to other creatures his size. Bogfoot was useful when muscle was needed.

Embertail pawed at the dagger stored in the waistband of his kilt, hoping he’d be able to use it that day.

Around midday, the pair entered a large clearing after following a well-worn trail through the underbrush. They were half-way across when Embertail’s keen eyes spotted someone at the other end. He held out his paw to silently stop his partner and pointed toward the unidentified creature.

Bogfoot untied the club from his belt and weighed it in his paws. Embertail rolled his eyes.

“A little subtlety would be better here, Boggy,” Embertail told his associate. “A single creature will not possess an abundance of food, but I’m sure some precise persuasion will incline him to reveal where some might be.”

Bogfoot thought for a moment. “Wha?” he asked dully.

Embertail huffed. Bogfoot tried his patience at times, but that was the price of an unquestioning minion. “We get them. Force them to take us to where there’s lots of food. Got it?”

Bogfoot nodded. “No clubbin’?”

“Not right now. Maybe later.”

When Embertail and Bogfoot got closer, the identity of the creature became clearer: Mouse. Female. Young.

Remaining silent, the vermin drew closer. Surprising her would give them the advantage.

Half-a-score of paces away, Embertail’s ears perked up. The mousemaid was singing to herself. Her voice was…intoxicating. Listening to her was like soaking in a river on a hot day and sitting by a fire on a cold night, at the same time. It felt like heat was welling up inside of him. He was relaxed and confident. The rest of the world seemed to fade as he continued to slowly step toward the mousemaid until his footpaws came to a halt on their own accord.

Rising, the mousemaid turned around to face Bogfoot and Embertail. “Hello there,” she said, her voice just as hypnotic as her song. “How do you do?”

“Very well, thank you,” Embertail replied cordially. He paused and shook his head, trying to clear the fog that and gathered. What was he doing? He needed to focus.

“What’s a little treat like you doing out here alone?” he looked at the basked the mousemaid carried. “Picking berries for your mama?”

“Indeed I am,” she said sweetly. “Mama makes the most delicious blackberry pies. Though I’m afraid I’ve picked too many berries. Would you gentlebeasts like to have some?”

“Certainly,” Embertail agreed reflexively, the fog filling his mind again as his voice answered on its own, “and maybe afterward we can help with the pie-making.”

“That would be lovely.”

The mousemaid shook the dust and dirt from her dress and stepped toward the fox and the rat with a graceful stride and gentle smile that would have seduced Vulpuz himself. She held the basket out toward them.

“Here you go. Have as many as you like. There are plenty.” She ran a paw down Embertail’s bare chest. “Handsome and strong creatures like yourself need to keep your strength up.”

Embertail shuddered as he felt her claws trailing down his hide. He sampled one of the berries and found it to be the sweetest thing he had ever eaten, as sweet as the mouse’s voice.

Bogfoot and Embertail eagerly dug into the basket of berries, taking a pawful of berries each. After they had each had a few, the mouse placed the basked onto the grass.

“Would you be so kind as to watch my basket for me? All those berries will make you thirsty, so I’ll go get some water from the stream.”

Embertail nodded between mouthfuls and watched as the mousemaid strode away. The berries were so good. He had to have more.

The mousemaid left the clearing and stopped behind a tree and waited. The berries had not been any simple blackberry. A few of them could be used to stop pains, but the pawfuls the vermin were scarfing down…well, they weren’t called graveberries for nothing. In another few minutes, they would fall into a sleep they would never wake up from, ready to be fed upon. The poison running through their veins was of no concern to the mousemaid; no poison could kill a demon.

A second mouse quietly dropped from the tree to stand beside the first, his impact made no sound and barely disturbed the grass. “I love watching you hunt, Rose,” Martin said to her as he smelled the breeze, searching for the scent of the vermins’ blood. “But I still prefer a chase.”

“If you’d prefer, I’ll take them both and you can find one for yourself,” Rose whispered as she nuzzled Martin’s neck, sneaking in an occasional gentle nibble.

“Ha, don’t you know better than to take food from a hungry animal?”

“I think I’ve tamed this animal…or can you resist my voice?”

“I can escape from your influence, yes,” Martin said, “but I could never resist your voice.”

“Flatterer,” Rose teased. “Dinner should be ready by now. You want the fox or the rat?”

“I’ll take whichever you don’t.”

Both vermin were lying dead on the ground, still grasping the berries that had been slowly killing them.

“I’ll admit,” Martin said, “it is rather nice when prey comes to you. Would they have eaten these if you hadn’t suggested it?”

“No, they had their minds on other things.”

“What do they see when you…enthrall them?”

“They still see everything as it is,” Rose smiled, “but their entire focus is on me and listening to what I say. They become highly susceptible to to my commands. They’ll believe anything I say.”

“Would you ever use that on me?” Martin asked as he sat next to the fox, relieving the corpse of the knife in his kilt.

“No,” Rose reached down and massaged Martin’s shoulders. “You’re much more fun when you’re unpredictable.”