#i know a few saltwater friends but not a lot

[robo-dino-puppy]

hfw: burning shores | aloy 30/?

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Fish are friends (?). You are not food.

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

The Siren wasn’t leaving.

Which a part of you had been expecting. Because surely if there had been a snowball’s chance in Hell of him making it out into the open ocean alive before you’d cut through the ropes, he would have taken it and left you stranded without a second thought. And his odds weren’t that much better now—his fins were still a mangled mess and the wounds all along his scales and dainty featherings were still raw and oozing. It only made sense that he’d take at least a few days to try and recover.

But… But still.

Did he have to make it so obvious that he was sticking around?

The glint of the light off his tail was a constant distraction—always bright and eye-catching even at the cloudiest points of the day. Always flashing just out of the corner of your eye as a perpetual reminder that there was something in the water that would very happily gobble you up if you bothered making a swim for safety.

He’d also taken to sunning himself. Like some kind of overgrown mer-cat. Stretched out languidly on a flat rock with the tips of his violet fins hanging over the edge—just enough for the gauzy edges to play along the surf and avoid drying out entirely. His pale hair splayed out in a halo around him as he snoozed softly in the heat of the afternoon.

Which! No fair! This wasn’t a vacation! This was a stranding! An SOS! A Rose Queen Procedural Rule Four-Hundred-and-Four! And him taking up the whole of the cove to, I don’t know, tan, felt like another intentional slap in the face. The sun rose over the bay, which meant this stretch of shore was facing East. Which was the direction your vessel had been coming from. Which meant that this was the place on the little islet where you needed to be. Subsection Three of Procedural Four-O’-Four. ‘In the case of Crew Overboard, we will always travel the same route as planned. In order to give the Strandee a chance to map out a reconnection point.’ Riddle always had been so smart about these kinds of things.

‘It’s just until he’s better,’ you reassured yourself for the umpteenth time that morning. ‘Then he’ll leave and I can get rescued or die here alone and in peace.’

A fin flicked up from the shallows to spray you with saltwater splatters and you spluttered indignantly when it ran down into your eyes. You glared at the Siren’s retreating back, musing bitterly about how you’d never thought it was possible for someone to make the tuck of their shoulders look smug.

‘Alone and in peace,’ you repeated hopefully. And it sounded like such far off dream.

.

.

On the second day post-rope-removal, the Siren waved you down with a sharp flick of his wrist.

You approached the waterline hesitantly, still mostly waiting for him to turn on you and make toothpicks out of your bones. But instead of murdering you and getting crafty with your corpse, he just pointed to some scribbles in the sand. You squinted at the loop-de-loops suspiciously. It almost looked like an illustration of dancing bubbles—the lot of them curling and popping along the ground in a line like a limerick. 

“Uhm, very nice,” you tried, and the fins flattened pissilly all along the side of his head.

He jabbed his claw towards the mess again. Then firmly at your eyes (hopefully not as a threat that he’d be happy to take them right out of your head if you continued to be obtuse). And then back again. He made a point to move the tip of his sharp nail from one swirl to the next in a little hop-hop-hop. It reminded you a bit deliriously of Riddle trying to teach some of the more socially bereft members of the crew their letters, and—

“You want me to read that?” you gaped, staring at the elegant curls of nonsense in the sand.

The Siren crossed his arms across his lean chest with a scoff that puffed past his lips hard enough to fluff out some of the paler, purple-tipped, hair hanging by his chin. He rolled his eyes at you and muttered something thin and spicy under his breath that you just knew had to be some sort of insult.

“I can read!” you defended, because it felt like it needed defending.

He leveled you with an entirely unimpressed ‘Oh, I’m sure you can’ sneer and you dropped to your knees, incensed. You dug your fingers into the sand and started sculpting out your own very cheery message into the muck.

When you were done, you waved a hand towards your proclamation and watched his brows pull together at the center into a teeny, pinched sort of expression. He let himself roll forward with the seafoam to lay more fully on the shore, and stared down at the mess you’d made like it was some strange code. Even reaching out to poke softly at the straight edge of a ‘T’ with one of his knife-sharp talons.

After a long moment of contemplation, he looked back up at you with an arched brow that was so unintentionally poised and not full of spite that it almost took your breath away. Who knew how pretty an already stunning face could become when it wasn’t twisted up in absolute vitriol? You shook away that absolutely damning thought in horror. That’s exactly what he’d want you to think. Siren, and all. Using his hotness to lure people onto his dinner table. Not you, baby. Because you were smart. And so gross from being stranded under island sunshine for a week that surely you’d taste like some absolutely rancid jerky at this point.

“Oh no,” you droned, and immediately that subtle curiosity of his ticked right back into irritation. “Two creatures from entirely different species and ecosystems have somehow managed to develop unique alphabets. What a completely unpredictable complication.”

The Siren puffed up like an angry lionfish and turned with a snarl to dive back into the shallows—making sure to whip his tail in your face and slam into the water with a huge splash as he went. The salt spray pelted down like rain and you snickered as it sloughed off your cheeks in rivulets, content to sit merrily in the wet sand beside your hastily scribbled: ‘Mermen Are Vicious Bitches. Hit Me if You Agree :)’

.

.

The next morning, there were more fish on the shoreline. Though these ones looked a bit less like they’d been dragged up by their souls and left to writhe in the wake of Siren-Screaming-Agony and more just like the unfortunate victims of a pair of too sharp claws.

You frowned down at a brown, sad-looking flounder that had clearly found itself at the very wrong end of a certain merman still swanning about in the bay not fifty feet away. It was mostly intact, and pleasantly plump for a flat, pancake-looking blob of muck. Your stomach gurgled and the thought of a nice, coal-charred, fillet really seemed quite nice. You chanced another peek at your resident Asshole, debating if it was worth swiping his snack. Another ominous rumble from your abdomen and you reached down to steal your prize and scuttle off deeper inland like a troll returning to its layer.

It didn’t take very long to get a small fire going, and within the hour you’d been fed and were more than ready for a cozy, full-bellied nap in the soft sand.

By the time you began to make your way back to the cove, the sun was high in the sky and you were already dreading sitting beneath its weighted rays for another afternoon. So you slowed your pace to a near snail crawl, dragging your feet as you went.

The little octopus from earlier was still swaying contentedly around the tide pool you’d shoved it into. It probably needed to be carried back out to the bay at some point so that it could swim back into the depths of the ocean, but the poor thing was just so small and round. Surely it’d get devoured by the first sharp-toothed thing that caught sight of it. Especially with your merman apparently being out for the blood of whatever other scaly things were swimming about in his temporary home. So for now you slipped it some small bits of leftover fish instead. You sat, crouched at the pool’s edge, and watched raptly as it grabbed the shredded bits of pale meat with its chubby tentacles to shove towards an eager beak.

“You’re the only friend I have left in the whole world,” you told the octopus miserably, wiping the greasy remnants of your lunch off your chin with a sigh.

The traitor hurriedly moved to snatch up the treat you’d offered it and hide itself away between some rocky crevices. You sighed louder. Rejected. What a time to be alive. 

.

.

The next morning, the Siren was singing again.

That familiar prickle danced its way up your arms, leaving pinpricks of goosebumps in its wake. Some pirates told tales of storms leaving their mark in such a way—that seasoned sailors could feel the tickle of thunder against their skin long before they could spot dark clouds on the horizon. You’d have to amend that little legend whenever you found your way back to The Rose Queen. Siren Sense was a lot cooler, anyways. Any idiot with arthritis could tell you when rain was due.

But either way, Mister Merman was back to idly circling the bay and calling into the distance. At least it wasn’t as miserable as it had been the other day—more of a leisurely pacing than the frantic, near-feral caterwauling that had soured your gut so terribly.

There was another fat fish on the shore. A bright, red snapper so brilliantly crimson that it was almost impossible to make out the garish wounds in its side. Almost. And even if it hadn’t been, the drooping, rust colored, rivulets dug into the sand would have been enough of a clue.

Why the Siren was bothering to leave his clawed-up kills at your feet like some overgrown cat dragging in mice, you had no idea. Maybe he was poisoning them, and subsequently you. Maybe he was bored and it was some sort of fishy enrichment. Maybe he just didn’t want to bother leaving dead things around to contaminate his favorite sunning spots, and tossing his leftovers in your vicinity was as close to a reliable dumpster as he could find on a remote island. Who’s to say.

Either way, you dutifully ignored the magical tingles racing up your shoulders and brought the newest fish back to your makeshift firepit. You grilled the snapper in silence, debating. Then you fed your octopus friend and returned to the beach, cooked fillets in tow.

You waited in awkward silence for a few moments, fish burning your palms, before raising your fingers to your lips and whistling loud enough to make your teeth ache. The mystical static faded from the air and you watched in pleasant (?) surprise as the Siren made his way back to where you’d set up camp. He rolled in with the tide, cresting on a gentle bit of surf and coming to rest neatly in the shallows—fins splayed out beneath him like a lord lying amidst his many silken robes. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at you with an arched brow and slanted frown.

You awkwardly extended a hand—roasted snapper still resting in your open palm and burning the absolute fuck out of your fingers.

“Uhm,” you said, feeling a bit too much like the local idiot trying to feed one of the rabid, wandering, strays around town. “Food?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at you.

“Do you want food?” you tried.

The other brow joined the first, nearly rising all the way into his hairline. It wasn’t a pleasant sort of surprise.

“It’s better cooked?” you coaxed in the face of his outright constipated scowl. Be fed and full, you thought hopefully. Maybe then you won’t fucking look at me like I’m a boxed lunch.

He jabbed a sharpened, black talon in your direction, and then pointedly again angled up towards your mouth. Then back to the fish still roasting your poor cuticles straight off your fingers.

You blinked, a bit thrown.

“What? It’s supposed to be for me?”

He nodded, throwing in another one of those bombastically snarky eyerolls for good measure. ‘Obviously,’ that sneer said.

“Well,” you huffed, plopping down to sit cross-legged in the sand and offering up one of the fillets. “There’s plenty for both of us.” When he stared at you like you were attempting to serve him up a choice pile of literal dog shit, you wiggled your hand and entreated, “Please just take it before my skin melts off.”

The Siren huffed and reached out, plucking up the fish with the tips of his claws. He observed your meager meal as one might a particularly unappealing cockroach, and after a long moment, his nose scrunched (cute, you thought absently before immediately suffocating every wayward braincell that would dare call your murderous shore-neighbor anything of the sort) and he leaned forward to nip at a crisped, pink corner with the barest edge of one canine.

When your culinary creation didn’t immediately strike him dead on the spot, he took another, equally dainty bite. And then another. The tight pucker of his mouth eased as he chewed, and you watched as the harsh cut of his purple irises warmed with that same intrigue as they had when you’d first scribbled your foreign letters into the sand.

He readjusted his grip on the fish between his claws to get a better angle and took a proper bite, chewing thoughtfully. Before you knew it, you were watching him nip at the pads of his fingers, his gaze going a bit round and shocked when he realized that he’d devoured the entirety of it.

“See?” you hummed, tucking into your own portion with gusto. “Not all things humans come up with are terrible.” He harumphed and turned to glare back out over the bay, slouching into the surf with an expression that was most certainly not a pout. “But maybe you’d know that if you bothered to do anything other than murder and devour us on sight,” you chirped.

To which you were immediately doused with an armful of water for your troubles. The Siren glowered petulantly from where he’d just wave-bombed you, and then dove back into the deeper waters of the sandbar. He immediately started up his stupid singing all over again—pointedly keeping his chin high above the surface and splashing brine into your face anytime he looped close enough to shore.

“I don’t know why I bother,” you huffed, and ate your sopping snapper in grumpy silence.

.

.

There was a ship wrecked off the coast.

Nothing overly cool, and definitely only a small chunk of what had probably at one point been a rather impressive vessel. But it was something. The first change in pace you’d had in days and oozing with possibilities.

The only problem was that the great, rotting, hull of the thing was dug up into a jagged skerry about a hundred yards off the shore—wedged into the pointed rocks with no chance of any wave or breeze sending it adrift. You could swim perfectly well. I mean, living your life on a ship surrounded by tumultuous, depthless, ocean would have been a hugely stupid career move otherwise. The issue, naturally, was the thing currently making its home in these waters. Sharks and barracudas, blablabla. They were just animals, no matter how many teeth they had. The Siren had a grudge. And just as many teeth.

Right now, said spiky pain in your ass was lounging in the shallows like the froth was an elegant daybed made just for him—shredded fins swaying in the soft tides and his hair floating about him that same, white-gold halo that made him look far too peaceful for anyone’s good sense. He wasn’t singing today, which was great for the local wildlife population but terrible for your Siren Sense. Once you waded into the waves, you’d have no real way to keep track of him. Hope, maybe, that he didn’t think fucking with you was worth messing up whatever tan-line he had going on. But nothing concrete that you’d be willing to bet the safety of your limbs on.

You wiggled your toes in the sand and stared longingly out at the stupid, wrecked ship that was so stupidly close. If you swam your fastest you could probably make it there in under two minutes—less than that, even. But that was still more than enough time for the Siren to rake those dark claws of his across your throat and drag you down into the depths to drown.

Riddle’s angry, red face swam through your thoughts, and you could practically see him shoving that beloved law tome of his under your nose for the umpteenth time.

‘Rule 32, never make dangerous bets that you’re certain you won’t win, particularly if you are betting against a Blue Nosed Beetle.’

‘Rule 15, do not needlessly sacrifice your life in the name of curiosity, excluding—of course—if you hail from Cheshire or are a Cat.’

‘It’s only a dumb shipwreck,’ you thought miserably, if rationally. ‘It’s probably not even that cool.’

Your captain would be so proud.

.

.

The next morning you were rolling up the cuffs on your pants and wading into the cool shallows, silently lighting a candle in your heart for your beloved, steam-faced leader and promising that you would at the very least cover the costs of your own funeral so as not to inconvenience him further.

The waves lapped against your ankles and the waters themselves were shockingly clear and blue. You could practically see each grain of sand beneath your heels—make out each pointy rock and the little, red crabs that scuttled away from your tromping like civilians fleeing from the shadow of a leviathan. The Siren was back to singing today. Perhaps his poor, overworked throat simply needed a break every now and again. But either way, your Merman Magic Missive was working in full force. The hairs on your arms stood at full attention and you liked to imagine you could see them twitching in circles to follow his long, looping arcs through the bay.  

You made it up to your knees and waited, eyes scanning the open water and nose twitching like maybe you could smell the fucker. There was nothing but a familiar prickle along your shoulders and that deep sense of ‘tug tug tug’ with no answer, so you took a deep breath and pushed further, the water sloshing up to your hips, your chest, and finally you were floating—paddling slow and cautious towards the wreckage.

It really was insanely close. Even moving at your most cautious, sneakiest crawl, you’d made it nearly three-quarters of the way there within perhaps five minutes. And no signs of a vengeful, hungry Siren circling the waters beneath you either. More rules that perhaps that you’d have to tell Riddle might need some amending  once you finally made it back home to your crew. ‘Dangerous bets,’ who? ‘Needless sacrifice,’ what? You might as well have outsmarted the whole ocean.

As you moved closer, you could make out a strange coat of arms on the side of the hull that you didn’t recognize. Twining, silver songbirds soaring against the sparkly backdrop of an otherwise plain faced crest, which honestly looked far too delicate to be heading the broken remains of what was no doubt at one point an absolute monster of a vessel. You reached out to brush your fingers against the shining plaque and then you were underwater.

You fought the immediate impulse to gasp in surprise, because expediting the process of your inevitable drowning just seemed stupid even by your standards. There was a clawed hand wrapped around your calf yanking you down, and you squinted through a stream of panicked bubbles to see your terrible, horrible, completely thankless co-strandee snarling up at you with sharp teeth and a sharper flail of his delicate gills. Thankfully the water wasn’t all that deep, so by the time you’d been dragged to the bottom you were maybe only ten feet under. But still. It was the goddamn principle! And besides, you’d heard about enough drunks drowning in puddles to know that this was more than enough Liquid Death to put you in an early grave.

The Siren looped around you in tight circles, and you could feel the brush of his tattered fins against your skin like the ghostly fingers of a reaper trailing down your spine. You’d known he was big—giant, even. Long, and impressive, and built to rule the very depths he’d dragged you into. Large enough to wrestle with sharks and capsize lifeboats. Big enough, no doubt, to eat you whole and still be hungry enough for seconds.

The salt stung your eyes and you blinked hard to keep his vibrant, amethyst tail in focus. Would he strike from the back, where you couldn’t see? Or would he go right for your throat—a direct, full frontal, ‘fuck you, human’ if there ever was one. And honestly, what were you expecting? That a good deed and a few pieces of cooked fish would sway him from devouring you whole? Maybe the island sun had fried whatever remained of your rattled brain.  

He stopped in front of you and hissed—a stream of tight, tiny, bubbles jetting past his canines. You glared in petulant confusion, absolutely refusing to give your would-be murderer whatever reaction he was hoping for. His brow pinched into a tight, angry, v and he snarled again. You snarled back, and with that, the last breath in your lungs swooped out of you in a tight squeak. You choked, and struggled, and kicked at the claws holding you down. The Siren reared back, eyes widening in something that looked insultingly like genuine surprise, and you used his moment of hesitation to propel yourself off the sandbar and back to the choppy surface.

You gasped in a hasty breath, expecting to immediately be dragged back under. But when you weren’t pulled back down to your watery grave, you took in another and another. Gasping, and hacking, and spitting up seafoam. The Siren’s head crested the surface beside you and you flailed away, nearly pushing yourself under all over again. You paddled frantically, trying to keep your nose above the tide, and then suddenly there was something under you. You squawked and kicked it on instinct. The Siren snapped his pointy teeth in your face and you realized with a start that oh. That was him, wasn’t it? The long, winding, scaled muscles of his tail curled beneath your toes in what almost seemed like an attempt to keep you upright.

He stared at you with those unnervingly bright eyes of his—blonde hair curling softly at the edges where it plastered elegantly along his finned ears, and those too-long lashes dripping with small, sparkly, drops of salt water.

“What the hell is this bullshit?” you choked, coughing up more bubbly froth. “You don’t get to look so—so put together after trying to murder me!”  

The Siren huffed out something that the delusional, still half-drowned, part of you wanted to classify as a laugh. And then he organized that bemused expression back into its usual, haughty, iciness and began to carefully make his way back towards the shore—towing you along like a poor, little, lost buoy with nowhere else to go.

You let him drag you up into the sand and only flopped around a little. He flicked his tail at you and your dramatics and you turned on him with a fierce, waterlogged scowl—a bit more confident now that he didn’t have the home field advantage.

“What was that for! I just wanted to look at the ship! I wasn’t even doing anything to you!” you wailed. “I haven’t done anything to you at all! Ever! Why do you keep—" you collapsed back into the sand with a miserable whine that rattled all the teeth in your head, and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes until you saw stars.

After a long moment of nothing, you felt a gentle tap at your shoulder.

You looked back up with a start to see Mister Merman looking nearly sheepish.Or as much of an equivalent that his aloof mask of a face was capable of pulling off. The clawed finger resting at your collarbone dropped to the sand by your hip, and he carefully began to draw more of those squiggles. No, scratch that. Not the dancing, popping, ones from the other day. These actually looked sort of like the silver songbirds from that shipwreck. More jagged, certainly. But similar enough that you felt something a bit too coldly cautious to be confusion seep through your guts.

Once he was finished, he looked up and met your gaze—sharp, pointed. And then he reached back out and smeared the birds into nothing and shook his head, firm. His red lips moved slowly, exaggerated, again and again. And you could make out the vague shape of words you’d had shouted at you a hundred times over.

‘Not safe.’

That same, shivery, nervous feeling bit at your limbs.

“…okay,” you said after a moment. And then leaned forward to dig your own fingers into the sand, dutifully ignoring how your elbows knocked against his own.

‘Not safe,’ you wrote, and watched his eyes trace each letter like a treasure map.

There was another tap at your shoulder. And then he pointed to the words in the muck, then to himself.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes. You’re not safe either.”

He sighed dramatically enough to ruffle the ends of your still soaked hair. And then pointed to the words again, tapping at the ‘N’ with the curved tip of a claw.

“Nnnn?” you mouthed, confused.

He moved to the ‘o’ next and it clicked.

“You want me to teach you how to read my letters?” you asked, flabbergasted. Another sigh, like you’d dropped the weight of all the world on his pale shoulders. Or perhaps that your idiocy was enough to put that hearty mass to shame. You decided that you were still feeling a bit too much like you’d only just barely escaped a brush with death, dismemberment, and dinner plans to push your luck with sassing him back too harshly, and just blinked owlishly in dazed surprise. “But why?”

His purple eyes trailed in the direction of the shipwreck and something cutting and poisonous clouded his expression. He pointed to the words again.

‘Not safe.’

“Alright,” you said, looking out over the water with a strange sort of sinking feeling in your gut. You leaned forward and began to draw the alphabet at your feet. His tail twitched by your fingers and you ignored the soft brush of his still-healing fins. “This one’s an ‘A’, like in ‘Asshole’—"

Whomp went the tail as he cracked it across your knuckles like a school matron with a ruler. And you couldn’t help the startled burst of genuine, tinkling laughter that bubbled past your lips for the first time since you’d been dragged overboard.

.

.

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[anniebeemine]

champagne coast- s.r. x fem!reader

The city buzzed with the hum of late-night traffic, the lights from the high-rise buildings flickering like a thousand tiny stars against the inky sky. The air was warm, thick with the scent of saltwater drifting in from the nearby ocean. Spencer stood on the balcony of a sleek, modern apartment that overlooked the sprawling city of Los Angeles. It was the kind of place he had only seen in magazines—the kind of place you lived in when you were young, beautiful, and free.

And that was exactly what you were.

You stood inside, bathed in the soft glow of the ambient lighting that illuminated the apartment. The white walls and minimalistic furniture made the space feel almost too perfect, like a stage set for the life you were leading—a life filled with glamorous parties, late nights, and fleeting moments that never quite seemed to last.

Spencer watched you through the glass door, his heart clenching with a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite name. You were laughing, a glass of champagne in hand, the sparkling liquid catching the light as you gestured animatedly, sharing a story with a friend who had dropped by unexpectedly. You looked happy, radiant even, but there was something about your smile that felt distant to him, like it belonged to someone else, someone he didn’t really know.

This wasn’t the first time he’d come to see you in Los Angeles. And he knows it won’t be the last. Every time he was in town for work, he made an excuse to slip away, to sneak over to your place and spend a few stolen hours together. And every time, it was the same—an intoxicating mix of passion, desire, and something else, something unspoken that lingered in the space between you.

But tonight, it felt different.

You caught his gaze through the glass, your smile faltering just slightly as you noticed the way he was looking at you. You excused yourself from your conversation and stepped out onto the balcony, closing the door behind you. The city noise faded slightly, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of quiet.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice tinged with concern. “You okay?”

Spencer forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, though he knew you could see through the lie. You always could.

You stepped closer, your free hand resting on his arm, the cool metal of your bracelet brushing against his skin. “You don’t seem fine,” you said, your eyes searching his. “What’s going on?”

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He had rehearsed this moment a dozen times in his mind, but now that it was here, he didn’t know how to begin. How could he tell you that this—whatever this was—wasn’t enough for him anymore? How could he tell you that he wanted more, that he needed more, but that he wasn’t sure you felt the same way?

“I just…” He trailed off, looking out at the city below. The lights twinkled like a thousand promises, each one more fleeting than the last. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

You frowned slightly, your hand slipping down to take his. “About what?”

He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around yours. “About us. About what we’re doing.”

You bit your lip, glancing away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “What do you mean?”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I mean… I don’t know what this is, what we’re doing. I come here, and it’s amazing, and I love being with you, but… it feels like something’s missing.”

Your eyes softened, and you nodded slowly. “I know,” you whispered. “I’ve been feeling it too.”

He looked at you, surprised. “You have?”

You gave a small, sad smile. “Yeah. I mean, this is great, right? We have fun, we have… whatever this is. But I know it’s not real. Not really.”

His heart twisted at your words, at the truth in them. “Then why are we doing this?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

You sighed, pulling your hand from his and wrapping your arms around yourself, as if trying to protect yourself from the cold, even though the night was warm. “Because it’s easier,” you admitted. “It’s easier to pretend that this is enough, that we don’t need anything more. Because if we don’t pretend, then we have to face the fact that maybe we want different things.”

Spencer’s chest tightened with the weight of your words. He had always known, deep down, that this was a fantasy, a beautiful dream that could never last. But hearing you say it out loud made it real, made it hurt in a way he hadn’t been prepared for.

“What if I want more?” he asked, his voice trembling. “What if I want all of you, not just these moments we steal away?”

You looked at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “Spencer, I can’t give you that,” you said softly, your voice breaking. “I can’t give you all of me, because I don’t even know who I am most of the time. I’m just… I’m just trying to figure it out.”

His heart broke at your confession, at the vulnerability in your voice. He wanted to hold you, to tell you that it was okay, that you didn’t have to figure it all out on your own. But he knew that wasn’t what you needed. You needed space, time, something he couldn’t give you if he was holding on too tightly.

“I care about you so much,” you continued, your voice trembling. “But I don’t know if I can be what you need. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

He nodded slowly, his throat tight with emotion. “I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. The city continued to buzz around you, oblivious to the quiet heartbreak unfolding on the balcony.

Finally, you took a deep breath and stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his chest. “I don’t want to lose you, Spencer,” you said softly. “But I also don’t want to keep pretending that this is something it’s not.”

He looked into your eyes, seeing the truth there, the love and the fear and the uncertainty all mixed together. And he knew, in that moment, that you were right. This wasn’t real, not in the way that mattered. It was a beautiful illusion, a dream that could never be sustained.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “But I don’t know how to keep doing this.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Maybe we need to figure out what we really want, apart from all of this,” you said, your voice barely audible.

He swallowed hard, knowing that you were right, knowing that this was the end of the dream. “Yeah,” he agreed, his heart breaking with the admission. “Maybe we do.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, one that tasted of salt and sadness. When you pulled away, you looked at him with so much emotion in your eyes that it made his chest ache.

“I’ll always care about you, Spencer,” you whispered. “But maybe it’s time for us to wake up from this dream.”

He nodded, unable to speak, his heart too full of pain and love and regret. He watched as you turned and walked back into the apartment, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing in his mind like the final note of a song that had played for too long.

Spencer stood there on the balcony, staring out at the city that had once seemed so full of promise, now feeling more empty than ever before. The night air was warm, but he felt cold, a chill settling deep in his bones.

And as the lights of Los Angeles continued to twinkle in the distance, he knew that this was the beginning of the end, that the dream was over, and that it was time to face the reality of what came next.

[p0ssywhippedcream]

hey girlypop!! glad you're better now!!!! could you pretty please write a percy jackson angst where he keeps choosing annabeth over the reader (she's his ex) and at one point he calls you pathetic and a bitch when you're arguing over her so you just run away crying?? not like a toxic relationship, just that he's in love with her while being with you! ty my love xox

baby love, I hate to break this to you but this is toxic. if you've ever been through this irl or are going through it, get the fuck out of that situation because you deserve so much better. I'm gonna change a few things cause it seems a little OOC but I will write it, just like promise me you understand that this is fictional and if somebody ever does this to you, you block them, call a friend and cry until you don't need to.

"Percy, just listen to me!"

He whirls around, his frustrated pacing bringing him close enough you can smell saltwater. "I am! It's ridiculous! You expect me to just be over her?"

"Yes!' You cry, throwing your hands down, "Because you're with me now and it's not fair that you're just now telling me that maybe you still have feelings for her!"

"I was with her for three years, y/n! You know what we went through together, she was my whole life."

Your energy is draining fast, you've been going in circles for hours now. "Perce, it's been a year. I understand that she meant a lot to you but romantically, that's over and I'm supposed to be the one you feel this way for!"

"Well how can I, y/n? You're not her." His face is flushed, eyes frantic and lips trembling with a rage that shakes the pipes of his apartment.

The air is electric, emotions bouncing around like molecules fighting for space. Like you, fighting for a space that's not yours, never yours. A space with someone else's name on it.

"And I thought that was okay." So many things want to come out of you, you want to beat on his chest with closed fists until he understands the pain beating inside yours. " I thought that I could mean to you what she did."

Percy rolls his eyes and huffs, turning his back on you as he resumes pacing. "You could never take what she means to me."

You wanted to say that's not what you were trying to do but really, how can you. You wanted to be a part of his life the way Annabeth was, you wanted to paint your name on her place and be what he needed, what keeps him going. You wanted to compare to the girl he went to hell and back for, you wanted to matter just barely a fraction what she did.

"I can never matter to you the way she does, can I?" Your voice is horse and tired and you just need one last confirmation. One last chance is handed his way, thrown into crashing waves like a prayer on a dead man's tongue.

The ocean swallows your hope, the storm is silent as the anger rages on around you. You stand in the eye, driftwood raft held together with half-baked compliments and forgotten I love yous.

"You're just not Annabeth." And it's the way he says her name that splits your makeshift boat straight in two. He says it like she carried each bucket of water from heaven and filled the sea, pouring every pinch of salt herself. She created the marine life from kisses and stars and designed them to make him happiest, she mans the lighthouse for lost sailors. She floats on a yacht in calmer waters as you go under, wondering why you left shore for an empty promise.

"Okay." You're drowning, the current much too strong. No matter how hard you fight, the sea was never going to forgive you for the sin of trusting it.

You're gone, fish food to him. You've left and you've walked and you're never going back to the apartment you loved in. He's sat down, head in his hands thinking of the one girl who survived his hurricane. He picks up the phone and she picks up on the second ring.

"Annabeth, hey."

[hannie-dul-set]

sunwater [teaser].

SYNOPSIS. this is how you get a merman boyfriend.

PAIRING. park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. merman! sunghoon, artist! reader, slight college! au, strangers to lovers, romance, modern fantasy, humor, suggestive. WARNINGS. swearning, drowning, dirty/inappropriate jokes, mentions of sex, things might get a lil spicy but No Explicit Smut, mermaid politics, reader says and does a lot of questionable shit (might add more as i progress!) WORD COUNT. full fic: est. 20k more or less. teaser: 1.3k RELEASE DATE. late july to early august.

NOTE. finally thought of a title last night and immediately made the header so i can post the teaser HAUHASDH. stemmed from a convo with a friend of mine (i quote "u reject every man woman person that tries to date u. little do they know, ur type isn't human 🤩").

anyway, send me an ask/dm to be added to the taglist! preview under the cut.

GANGNEUNG-SI, GANGWON-DO. The drive to the east coast is always nostalgic, like fragments of previous summers are powdered into the air and with every inhale of the breeze outside the car window fills you with the past— scraped knees from the rocky beachside, saltwater daydreams under bunny-shaped clouds, and the smell of paint and the sea melting together in early morning dews. It takes a little over an hour for the cab to roll up to your summer neighborhood. It takes twenty minutes of walking to get to your family’s vacation house situated right beside the sea.

“Welcome home.”

Your words echo in the empty living room and your own voice greets you with remembrance. A smile crawls onto your lips. Eggshell walls, sandy brown wooden panels, your favorite blue sofa matching the stripes on the rug underneath it, and the sheer cream curtains painted with the orange spills of the sunset through wall to ceiling windows— it’s a still life painting of last year’s summer. Prior to that, you still had plants around, but they kept dying, getting replaced and dying again until your neglectful guilt finally hit you. Throughout highschool, your family diligently spent time here every December and July. Now, it’s just you every summer and the caretaker that comes by every few months.

“I should call mom after dinner,” you hum, washing the dishes you found in the cupboards. Your first night here always ends early. By sunfall, you have a quick meal, wash up, tuck yourself into bed upstairs and allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by the sloshing waves of the nighttime sea. 

Four in the morning is when you start to feel alive.

The first thing you do upon waking up, pitch black sky with the sun still hiding behind the oceanline, you grab one of the bags you left on your living room sofa, slinging it over your shoulder before picking up a folded up easel leaned against the wall and two of the blank canvas panels stacked beside it. Your body moves mechanically, practiced and familiar movements— sliding the glass door open to the backyard and closing, feeling the sand wither underneath your bare soles until soft grains blend into jagged stone as you climb up the natural staircase of rocks, leading up to a solid flat plateau.

Is it safe to be painting on top of a cliff when you’ve just woken up? No. Have you been doing this every day since you were fourteen every summer you spend at your vacation home? Yes. 

When the sun starts to rise, you become invigorated with life that it almost feels like rebirth.

You haven’t fallen to your death yet, and you don’t have any plans to slip and succumb to its cold hands any time soon. Not until you manage to perfectly capture the image before your eyes at this very moment; neither your memories nor your imperfect renditions can compare to the vibrancy of the orange stained waves, the clarity white seafoam kissing its surface, and the beauty of flaming disk peeking from the firmament where the sky meets the sea in all its ephemeral glory.

It’s five-thirty when the sun fully emerges from the water. Your legs give in, and you fall onto the rocky ground with a sigh. All you could finish is the underpaint today. You’ll continue working tomorrow. 

Whenever someone asks you— why the fuck are you doing this? you never have a satisfying answer. It’s an exercise, it’s a routine; it’s the only time when I feel like I’m painting something worthwhile. You have countless pieces in galleries and exhibits, meaningless works with the highest praises from your professors, but they’re nothing worth the buzz of your fingertips whenever you chase the sunrise with your own paint-stained hands until it inevitably, ritualistically flies beyond your devoted reach.

The strain in your leg muscles takes forever to recover. You should remember to bring a stool tomorrow because although you don’t feel anything besides adrenaline whenever you attack the canvas with your brush, the aftertaste can be a little brutal. 

“Can’t you stay a little longer tomorrow?” you mumble to the orange tinted sky as you lay on the uneven ground, arms and legs spread out in vulnerability. When it doesn’t respond, you groan and pull yourself up. You could leave your painting materials here, but the probability of them getting thrown into the ocean by the wind is too high for your peace of mind.

As you collect your paint brushes and gather your extra paint tubes, your eyes keep getting pulled by the ocean’s songs. The scene before you has been imprinted in your retinas since you were seven. So when something appears amiss or changes, you can pick it apart immediately. A shift in the tides. A crack in the rock formation. Even a floating piece of driftwood from afar can’t slip away from your attention.

So when you find something— rather, someone emerging from the warm blue near the sprouting rocks, you drop your things and pace quickly to the edge to get a better look.

This is odd. This entire plot of land is private property, and it’s the only way to get into the water besides the island across it, which is still at least twenty miles away. Your eyebrows furrow, wondering how they got here, but when you get to the edge of the cliff, the rough terrain biting into your feet, your concerns are suddenly thrown into the water underneath you.

You can see the intruder’s face clearly now. Whoever he is, he’s breathtaking.

He’s gotten closer to the shore, resting his arms on the inky rock, half submerged into blue depths. The saltwater beads glisten like jewels on his porcelain skin, splashing sunlight into the water when he throws his head back before letting the ocean consume him once more. There’s a flicker of gold that splashes above the surface in a steady rhythmic wave, slowly moving further away.

You have found your new ocean sunrise. You don’t intend on letting him get away.

Splash!

Suddenly, all the warmth from your skin is stripped away as your body sinks into the sea, engulfed by the thick raptures of its waves. Though having been enamored by it for the better part of your life, you have never stepped into the ocean’s embrace— never dared to corrupt its ethereal beauty with your feeble humanity— that is, until now. You slowly feel heavier, and each second hurts more than the last, like the sun itself has entered your lungs and is burning you from the inside. Maybe you should have learned how to swim. Maybe you shouldn’t have jumped off the cliff in the rushing hopes of catching a fleeting stranger’s attention.

No one should underestimate the lengths an artist would go for their art. Just when your consciousness starts to slip, you see a spark in the dark water, slowly approaching before your eyelids flutter to a close. You can hear nothing. You feel nothing but the cold, until all of the sudden you’re gasping, coughing out water from your lungs and the jagged rock you’re laying on sinks its teeth into your wet palms.

There’s one person who could have saved you. You can’t believe your deranged plan worked.

You open your eyes and look above, your still beating heart burning into a frenzy and instead of the sunrise sky, your gaze meets a pair of stygian gemstones muddled with concern. A few droplets of water from his damp hair fall onto your cheeks. 

“Are you okay?”

Burnt stars form a constellation on his face. His lips are full and painted by coral hues. 

“I want to burn you in my memory.”

He’s even more breathtaking up close, it’s almost impossible to believe. Your gaze draws down, noticing how you’re caged between his arms, noticing the patchy waist bag loosely hanging on his bare hips over a makeshift skirt of fabric, noticing the iridescent gold flakes blending into his skin, shimmering under the sunlight from where his lower half should be.

You flit your eyes back up. His are now widened in panic.

Splash!

sunwater. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[two-white-butterflies]

fence | d. targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen meets his best friend's daughter in a Taylor Swift concert.

Genre: social media au

Rating: Teen [age gap, dad's best friend, beach au]

Author's Note: picture below is by the lovely @nyctophilic0vitnir 🥰

Daemon's smiles slowly - seeing that both of his daughters were enjoying the concert. Of course, it cost him a fortune - but anything for his twins. "If we survived the Great War!" Baela kept singing and dancing to the sound of Taylor's acoustic melody.

"Uhuh, uhuh..." she hummed while holding her sister's hand.

Daemon turns to the scene in front of him - another woman was blocking his view. You were wearing a white button down shirt, and colorful pants that were decorated with purple-pink butterflies.

"Clôture," he mumbled in French, and to his surprise you turned around. "Excusez-moi?" your eyebrows merged into each other. "Sorry," he rolled his eyes - not in the mood to get into a fight.

A frown is permanently etched on his face after that.

Annoying.

ilikesojubutsojissilent 🔐 some old asshole called me a fence in taylor's concert....like know ur place oldieee mcoldddieee

swanchiken9: didn't u call him 'lana del rey' vinyl? - ilikesojubutsojissilent: I CAN'T REMEMBER THAT

ssexretary22: 'idc if he cheats on me or something but he's kinda hot' - ilikesojubutsojissilent: THE VOICES, THE MF VOICES 🥰

Of course, fate wasn't happy with just one interaction.

Daemon saw you again - a few weeks after the concert.

"Ah, this is my daughter." Harwin smiles, pulling you closer to his body. "Last time I saw her, she was still 'this' tall." Laenor chuckled, hands pointing at his knees. Oh, does he remember seeing you - the little cunt that blocked his view during the concert.

"She's already taller than you," Harwin laughed, gaze trailing towards Daemon. "Don't remind me." Laenor rolled his eyes while taking a swig of his beer. His jaw clenches seeing you in front of him.

Plump lips that were perfect for kissing - eyes that were perfect for staring - most of all, he liked the way he hated you.

Harwin turns his head slightly in your direction. "He's Uncle Daemon - we used to be friends back in high school." Harwin explained and you extended your hand for him to shake. He clicks his tongue in distaste, but he still shakes your hand - soft and fragranced.

"It's nice to meet you," you mumble shyly - staring at the floor.

"You too." his lips settled into a thin line.

itz_y/n: the mood for today 🦋

14 comments 459 likes

helaenablackwidow: amazinggh rhae_strong: I LOVE IT 💗 - itz_y/n: thanks auntie!!

Daemon was beginning to regret staying in Harwin's house.

A groan escapes his mouth, watching you play with your food. It seems like everything you did managed to anger him. "So, Daemon? You've ever been to this part of Australia?" his friend inquires, one hand was holding a fork - and the other was around his new wife, Rhaenyra (his niece.)

"Never, actually - I've only been to Sydney." he confesses, choosing to ignore your existence. "Well, you're going to enjoy it here - it's calm and the beach isn't filled with that much wildlife." he pointed, and Daemon's gaze moves in your direction.

There was a slight tan on your face - hair slightly matted from saltwater and he could smell the salt breeze. He'd enjoy it here.

"I've heard a lot of conflicting reports," he chuckled, exchanging a knowing stare with his niece. "I got bitten by a spider once!" she defends herself, knowing that she wasn't used to Australia's fauna. "She got very lucky - it wasn't venomous." her husband grinned.

"But my daughter, not much." Harwin looked at you.

"Got bitten by a venomous one - but trust me, I wasn't the one panicking." you giggled, and Harwin smiled defeatedly. It was hard raising a child on his own - since your mother was a no show. "I had to rush her to the hospital via airlift, it was a good thing they got the antidote in time." he informed.

"Via airlift?" Daemon questioned.

"Yep, because apparently the car isn't fast enough." you rolled your eyes playfully. "The helicopter gives them a sense of urgency," Harwin shrugged, turning towards Daemon. "I'm sure you get it mate. We'd do anything for our daughters." your father looks for an ally.

Rhaenyra chuckles quietly.

"Don't let his cold exterior fool you. He once rushed Rhaena to the hospital because she got a rash - and he thought that it was sepsis." Rhaenyra rats out, and her uncle lets out a small laugh.

"I guess we are the same, Harwin."

itz_y/n: surfing weather 🌊

10 comments 829 likes

"I remember you, actually." your opened your mouth - taking a casual sip of the newly-fermented kombucha that your dad made. "You called me a fence," you pouted, and he kept staring down at you. He had a murderous glint in his eyes - one that spoke 'sex' and lust. He keeps looking at you - gaze trailing up and down from your navel to your face. "You were." he admitted, no sign of remorse on his face.

"It's not my fault that you're short," you rolled your eyes, adjusting your bikini top. "But I'm still taller than you," he yapped - amused by your sudden fieriness. What was inside that kombucha?

"It would be embarrassing if you weren't, right?" you smirked and he leaned down on your body, butt firmly pressed on your bed-bed. By this point, your hips were barely touching each other. "Shame too because you'd be handsome, if it weren't for your attitude," you mumbled - seeing how far his temper would reach.

A light scoff exits his lips, his hands were on your thigh.

"My attitude, now?" he growled - rubbing small circles on your inner leg. It made your blood pump - eyes see red. The thought that anyone could walk in on the both of you eye-fucking was exhilarating. The chase was fun - but to have this man? It was wrong, immoral, weird - and you liked that.

"You should be thankful that I find you handsome, not a lot of men are." you replied - seemingly unfazed with his seduction. "- and not a lot of women are pretty too," he answered, eyes staring deep into your soul. "When you say it - it sounds offensive," you narrowed your eyes and his hand reaches for your cheek.

"You're a pretty girl - if that eases the offensiveness," he mused. He was the pomegranate - and you were Persephone. "A little," you stared at his lips - smiling as his face moves closer.

He was just about to kiss you - but you pull away.

"It was nice chatting, Uncle Daemon." you grinned, rising to your feet and wrapping the dainty towel around your hips.

Uncle Daemon, the word seemed to stir something inside of him.

itz_y/n: late nights and early mornings down under 🦘🪖

Daemon keeps staring at your instagram post - he doesn't usually do social media but he wanted to pry deeper into your private life. It wasn't hard finding you - Harwin and Rhaenyra posted you regularly.

A low growl escapes his mouth seeing the first photo - only a sheet was covering your body.

"Daemon, we'll be gone for a few hours. Can you watch the little girl for me?" Harwin offers with a kind smile and he closes his phone immediately. His friend would kill him. "Sure," he nodded - quickly handed with a bottle of beer.

He leans on your doorframe, watching while you scrolled through social media mindlessly. "Are you always left at home?" he cleared his throat and your attention shifts to him. "I don't mind," you answer, patting the empty space beside you.

"Well, I do - it's boring here." he complained - having no issues in laying down beside you. His father always told him that his best asset was his command of everyone. Daemon took up space, he could say what he wanted to without fear of consequence. "What do you propose we do?" you place your phone on the pillow.

"Fuck?" he teased - a laugh escapes your mouth. "You're older than me - aren't you supposed to make more sense?" you joked, staring deep into his purple eyes. He was wearing a tight shirt - you could make out the small curves of his body - his abs and his nipples. "I'm making perfect sense," he shrugged - hands moving to your hips.

@nyctophilic0vitnir @watercolorskyy @bellastwd @icarusgloom @pearlstiare @areaderinlove @hc-geralt-23 @rozendiors @immyowndefender @ammo23 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @ammo23 @immyowndefender @bitchyunknownuser

[mod-kyoko]

pet hcs part 1: trigger happy havoc

type: non-despair au, general hcs

a/n: just wanted to write something with my own idea before i finish up requests!

♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧♤♧

makoto naegi

makoto and komaru each owned a hamster as kids

their parents took them to a pet store and they were both drawn to a specific one, and fought over who would get to name it

makoto, being the older brother, was pressured to just let komaru have that one

so he got another hamster, but komaru ended up liking his more, and more sibling fights ensued

makoto never owned any pets after that, but if he did, he would want a hamster because it reminds him of his childhood

kyoko kirigiri

i've said it before, i'll say it again

kyoko owns a reptile, specifically a bearded dragon

she often allows it to roam her office while she's working

having it out helps her focus

she often likes to scratch its head and under its chin

it's perfect for her because it's chill and quiet

byakuya togami

byakuya would own a great dane 100%

they are very regal dogs, elegant, and strong

they are low maintenance when it comes to grooming

they need a lot of exercise though, but byakuya doesn't mind that

he has many people to take over his business while he takes his great dane on walks

he's very proud of his pet, so much so that he would enter it in competitive dog shows

sayaka maizono

sayaka is a rodent person

someone: "are you a dog person or a cat person?"

sayaka: "no"

sayaka had a guinea pig as a tween, and eventually got it two buddies a few years later

she loves all breeds of guinea pig

hairless, curly, short-haired, long-haired

she loves cuddling with her piggies, nuzzling their noses with her nose, and scratching their heads

kiyotaka ishimaru

an energetic person needs an energetic pet

taka has a sugar glider!

he's obsessed with the way his little glider will jump down from tall objects and fly towards him, perching on his shoulder

the sugar glider goes with him everywhere, always on his shoulder or on top of his head

he definitely cuddles with it and kisses it good night lmfao

celestia ludenberg

yeah celeste has a cat, but she would also totally have a cockatoo

they are very elegant birds, and she loves having elegant things

her bird perches on her finger or shoulder and she loves to give it kisses

she's very protective over her cockatoo, no one else is allowed to touch it

mondo owada

mondo's soft spot is his pet rabbit

he has a lionhead because they look badass

his rabbit is always roaming around the house

it's not mondo's house it's the rabbit's house

he treats the animal likes it's his whole world

the rabbit gets nothing but the yummiest treats and the biggest play area and so many places to explore

he often has the rabbit lay in his lap and sleep, while petting it

sakura ogami

what else would she have but a ferret

two ferrets

they are energetic, fun, and she doesn't mind that they are high maintenance because they are like her children

if you go to sakura's house, just know that there will be tunnels and toys everywhere

the ferrets are always out and playing around, you really gotta be careful where you step and sit

all sakura's friends are always welcome and they're constantly at her place just to play with her pets

hifumi yamada

hifumi has a very grumpy himalayan cat

it doesn't help the fact that he's always dressing the cat in cute and silly costumes

if you go over to hifumis place just know that the cat will hide and you will not be seeing it around ever

in fact, no one believes he even has a cat because no one has ever seen it with their own eyes

but he does have a cat, and it has its own tiktok page

chihiro fujisaki

chihiro has a medium sized aquarium full of all kinds of colorful fish and it is his prized posession

he spends so much time decorating their living space and cleaning their habitat

he's very knowledgeable about fish, too, it's one of his special interests

ask him one question and he'll ramble on about salinity levels in saltwater tanks

he is always posting cute pictures of his tank on social media lmao

yasuhiro hagakure

hiro has a hermit crab because they are cool but also low maintenance

he loves taking it out and watching the little dude crawl around

but it's not supposed to really be a companion, he likes having it for show

nevertheless, he takes really good care of it and is also protective of it

toko fukawa

yeah, toko has a stink bug... yeah

but she also owns other bugs

tarantulas, praying mantises, and even an ant colony

she can't stand people who overly freak out at the sight of a bug, she never understood that fear

they are so calming to look at, and they are just little beings trying to get through life as we are

her ant colony sits on her writing desk so she can watch them all scurry around when she has a block

aoi asahina

leon kuwata

aoi needs a pet that can keep up with her

a golden retriever is perfect

aoi is at the park ALL the time throwing frisbees and tennis balls

she has her dog run next to her while riding a bike

her golden retriever sleeps with her in her bed and she's always with it

leon has a hedgehog because they're cool

he definitely pricked himself a hundred times before he learned how to pet it

shows it off thinking it's gonna get him chicks but it backfires because they are more interested in the hedgehog than him

takes cringe ass selfies with it perched on his shoulder

they wear matching accessories sometimes

junko enoshima

junko is a horse girl and i will die on that hill

her steed is her absolute most prized possession and ALL of her money goes to keeping its coat shiny and mane luscious

also she looks amazing in an equestrian uniform

she rides her horse every day around her own private stable ground

no one and i mean NO ONE is allowed near her steed

enters in equestrian competitions and horse beauty pageants and always. fucking. wins

there is no amount of money she isn't willing to sink into her horse's quality of life

it's stable is all pink and bedazzled

mukuro ikusaba

mukuro obviously has a badass pet

she owns the largest domesticated python in the world

she didn't own a snake expecting it to be her best friend, though she does enjoy its company

it free roams her house sometimes

she has a large respect for the pet, her space is the python's space

she totally lets it crawl over her, wrapping itself around her arms and such and lets it chill there because it likes her body heat

[afyrian]

ch. eight - merman fascinations masterlist

    the night air is thick, your head harboring a heavy migraine. you stare out at the stars above, thinking back to the set of events you went through. the water sucking into your throat; your hands clinging for some kind of life. you look down at the ocean, only barely seeing it over the many buildings.

  it's such a mysterious sight, hiding a multitude of creatures that could take you down once more. the darkness of the depths makes you turn back into the apartment, anxiety still running high. "thanks for getting me at the hospital," you look into the kitchen, noticing atsumu making some ramen.

  "you should be laying down, sitting down at the very least," he looks up at you, shaking his head in your general direction.

  you purse your lips, rolling your eyes while heading to the counter to sit at a stool. your leg still throbs in pain, the medication wearing off. even your throat still feels raw. between the saltwater and the screaming, something warm and soft will be the perfect thing to help you relax. 

  "but really, i'm happy you're my emergency contact. i was tempted to pick osamu but i figured he'd be pretty busy with the whole chef thing," you shrug, giving him a sly smile when he looks back at you with a frown. 

  "wow, a guy grabs you from the hospital, makes food for you, and gets your medication ready for you and that's all you have to say to him," atsumu rolls his eyes, "but i'm sure akaashi will get lots of thanks when you see him again."

  the sound in his voice is clearly sarcastic, but you can tell that he's thankful. akaashi saved his closest and longest friend (besides his twin brother), and that's one of the nicest things he can do. "well yeah, i mean it was actually crazy. everything was happening so fast and he just pulled me up from the water."

  you don't remember much of what happened, you remember seeing the sea life under the water. you do remember the large tail swimming by you. it was a bright color, looking different from how most fish appear. however, you don't feel very inclined to figure out the type of fish. 

  it's also easy to remember seeing akaashi above you, trying to make sure you made it until the ambulance got there. you remember his hair slightly damp, the smile on his face once the paramedics got there to get you. the only odd thing being his shirt while carried little to no water on it. from what you can remember, he didn't have enough time to change his shirt-

  "y/n? you good there?" 

  "uh yeah, just remembering something odd about when he saved me," you lean against the counter, watching as he pours it into a bowl, adding an egg and few other ingredients to the dish, "his shirt was dry... like weirdly dry."

  atsumu cocks an eyebrow, looking between the bowls and you. "dry? well maybe he changed into it, or only got into the water up to his waist?" he takes his chopsticks, stuffing some of the food into his mouth. 

  "no, he definitely didn't have the time to. and i was too far out for him to be able to do it. i don't know, it was just weird... maybe after i passed out or something," you eat some of your food as well, mind searching for an answer.

  of course there's always an explanation for everything, even if that explanation isn't so clear at first. and even if you should be focusing on your health and thanking akaashi profusely, you can't help but wonder about life's mysteries. the odd fish in the water and his oddly dry appearance draws you and atsumu to the very same thought.

  "mermaid.. merman," atsumu mentions after taking another bite, "the whole h2o mermaid show thing where they get dry after losing their tails."

  you laugh a little, nearly choking on the noodles you had in your mouth. you thought of it, but knew that the whole mermaid thing isn't real. sailors never saw mermaids, merely seeing belugas, "right, cause mermaids totally exist and the show got their lore just right. c'mon tsumu, you're going to be a marine biologist, you can't seriously be suggesting that mermaids are real."

  "i'm not, i'm just saying that it would explain everything. maybe not the damp hair, but that's besides the point," he leans against the counter, smiling at his deductions.

  "yeah sure, akaashi the merman," you laugh to yourself, shaking your head slightly, ignoring the curious side of yourself.

a/n: we’re getting there… taglist: @zombriesworld

[sweetbabymantykes]

urgent wuestion: mom bought me a sharpedo ive never trained pokemon before what do i do

Wait wait wait, time out. She...bought you a Sharpedo? As your first pokemon??? Has- has SHE ever had a pokemon before? Have you ever expressed interest in raising a Sharpedo? Where the hell did she go where they were just SELLING SHARPEDO???? I have so. So many questions. Anon, if she didn't get this pokemon from a certified breeder or a shelter, PLEASE look into the legality of wherever she got it from, there are VERY FEW places that will just sell fully-grown pokemon to someone, much less one as care-intensive as a Sharpedo.

That being said, it sounds like you want to make sure this pokemon is happy and healthy regardless, which is a good thing to want! There's a few basic standards of care to establish first- food, habitat, and trust.

Luckily, food is by far the easiest part of caring for a Sharpedo. Sharpedo, unlike their juvenile pre-evos, are obligate carnivores- which means they NEED to eat a diet of primarily meat in order to live. Outside of this requirement, though, they're some of the least picky eaters I know. You should keep them primarily on a seafood diet, and you can feed them any fish you want. There's standard water-type carnivore food they sell at the Pokemart, if you're able to get them fresh fish you can feed them almost anything, but in my experience their favorites are Lanturn, Veluza, Lumineon, Squirtle, and Wishiwashi fry- you don't even need to get stuff from an aquarist, you can just buy some fish at the store. Any seafood that's safe for a human is more than safe for a Pokemon. You can also feed them land meat, but most kinds tends to have much higher fat content than their natural diet of fish. Keep burgers and fried Combusken for occasional treats, rather than their main diet. Try not to let them eat wild pokemon, either. It may be tempting to let them just act on their instincts, but you cannot possibly know if that wild Lanturn it just ate had parasites or a communicable disease. If it eats one anyway, get it to a pokemon center asap to be screened.

For their habitat, you'll ideally want access to the ocean. If you're worried about them swimming off- don't be, they can go really fast, but only in short bursts. You should be able to keep up with them on foot. If that's not an option and they don't have a ball, consider getting them one, it'll make it a lot easier to train them. If you don't have access to the ocean, you will at LEAST need access to a clean body of water large enough for them to go full speed for a while- a quarter to a half mile long in either direction. They can zoom around on land too, but vastly prefer the water. That's just for enrichment, you won't be keeping them there while you're at home. If you have them in a ball there's a lot of habitat building you can gloss over, but as a matter of good husbandry you'll still need a saltwater tank for them to rest in. If they only swim in freshwater, they can swell up and get sick, if you keep them on land for more than 8 hours a day they'll shrivel up and get sick from dehydration. You'll need, minimally, a 500 gallon saltwater tank. Remember, this is a pokemon roughly the size of a grown adult, even if a lot of the height and width is just fins. You could maaaaaybe get away with 400 gallons, but it's gonna be tight. At the very least you won't need to worry about tank decoration. Aside from substrate/sand/gravel, you at least won't need to worry about decorating the tank. Sharpedo isn't that concerned with having hides or rock, they're more content to just swim around aimlessly. If you don't have the room or access to a tank like this, a lot of aquarists and aquariums have spaces for people to let their friends recharge in the water- but this is usually for people who are travelling and are away from their usual tank, not for people who live in the area and don't have a tank.

The hardest part, more difficult than finding the space for your Sharpedo, is building trust. The most common way trainers will build trust with their Sharpedo is by raising them from a Carvanha, but you unfortunately don't have that kind of luxury. And depending on where your mom got this pokemon, you could be at an even worse disadvantage, potentially having received a pokemon that has already learned to be wary of people. The first thing you'll need is a lot of patience. It takes a lot of time for even a wild Sharpedo to trust a human, but once you have that bond they're fiercely loyal. Despite their reputation as fearsome violent killers, they're generally a lot more curious or energetic than they are malicious. At the very least, their 'bloodlust' tends to be pretty well sated after a filling meal. I don't know how your Sharpedo will react to you, but here's my advice for getting it to trust you. Firstly: Don't touch it. I mean it, do not touch this pokemon unless you ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO, and if you DO have to, wear gloves, and do it fast. Sharpedo skin will absolutely tear your palms to shreds if you aren't wearing any protective gear, and getting your hands in biting range of an already-stressed predator is a very good way to lose your fingers. Actually building that trust is going to depend a lot on what your Sharpedo's personality is. More energetic and aggressive natures will want to spend a lot of time doing things- battle training, agility courses, learning tricks, whatever. The more quiet and contemplative ones will just need time, there's not much you can do there except calmly spend time in their vicinity, feed them, and regularly bring them places where they can zoom around in the water to their heart's content. My own Sharpedo didn't really see me as someone worth trusting until after I had already won two badges with them- not all Sharpedo will be like that, but most of the stories I've heard from other trainers have had that similar thread of taking a looooot of time and effort until they truly trust you enough to exhibit that loyalty and comfort.

I just dumped like eight paragraphs worth of advice here, but I'm barely scratching the surface. For sure take this Sharpedo to the pokemon center to make sure they're up to date on their innoculations and see if there's any medical issues to be aware of, bring your new friend to a local aquarist to get a one-on-one professional opinion, spend time with your Sharpedo as an individual and pay attention to their likes and dislikes. They're far from mindless killing machines, they're complex, intelligent creatures with a discerning eye and sharply honed instincts. If you find yourself unable to care for your Sharpedo and are unable to find a friend or trainer able and willing to care for it in your stead, make sure whatever shelter you bring it to IS prepared to care for it- though I do still encourage you to try caring for it, anywhere that will just...sell pokemon FOR MONEY without any real vetting process will probably not leave their pokemon with strong senses of trust or very good mental health. Please care for this Sharpedo as best you can, and see what in arceus' name your mom was THINKING when she picked this up, holy hell.

[thenativetank]

VA Native Fish Hunting - 23

With Winter just behind us, I figured it would be an opportune time to pick up the fish hunting again! I went to a local area that has both freshwater and brackish access with a few cool finds!

Macro algaes are always so interesting to me but I'm bad at identifying it. I'm pretty sure this a filamentous Ulva spp. but hard to say. They range from little clumps like this to big sheets over a foot long - and according to at least one book are edible for people too.

More Ulva spp, I pulled this up from a log off shore - it seemed more to rest on it than grow from it. This batch was SO COOL partly on how much there was but also the texture. I'm super tempted to get some for an aquarium.

In the brackish section, I did a number of net dippings and only managed to catch one fish - a Mummichog (Fundulus heteroclitus). This species has so much variety to them; some populations like the one this guy is from, there's an iridescent blue and black dot on the dorsal fin. A handsome fish in a subtle way.

What I did catch a lot of were shrimps! These Grass Shrimps (Palaemon spp) are super common around here. There are a few species in this state and I have a book that helps distinguish them, but I'd need better zoom in order to make that a reality.

A little easier to see their features here.

Before I left the tributary, I saw this cloud of striped fishes swimming around. My knee jerk reaction were Striped Killifish, but I've never seen them this far upstream. I did my best to catch only a small amount.

Makes more sense - Sheepshead Minnows (Cyprinidon variegatus) are freshwater to fully marine pupfish and found around this area. I have never seen them school like this, though, so that's pretty awesome.

I also tossed around a couple of minnow traps in this freshwater pond to see what I could wrangle. Turns out, not much.

One (1) female Mummichog, and...

One (1) male Mummichog. I love comparing the freshwater to brackish to saltwater populations of these fishes. Such diverse coloration!

Not aquatic but a first for me - I found a neat friend! This Wharf Roach was nice enough to pause for a few photos before being sent on their way.

Bonus pic - after the hunt I stopped by a new bait store in the area. They had a fantastic deal on American Eels! If I had room for a 3 to 4 foot long predator slash escape artist, I know where I would go buying one!

[jazzythursday]

Last Line Tag Game

Hi! I was tagged by @aphroditestummyrolls to share the last few lines I wrote with you all. To be honest I meant to get to this a while ago, but there's one scene in Heart Of The Country that has been giving me trouble and I was hoping to salvage enough of it for a snippet eventually… which I haven’t quite yet. Taking a break from it for a moment to share some of my Wylan torture/whump wip that I haven't talked much about on here. This scene is part of a Jesper pov chapter about half way through the story:

“Jesper.” The way she says his name gives him pause, and he turns back to her wearily, feeling the weight of every day of this week catching up to him all at once. He sags against the countertop, trying to pass it off as a lean—though she knows him well enough to tell the difference—and sighs. "Talk to me."

"This is talking, we're talking right now." He taps restlessly at the granite of the countertops, attempting a smile even though his face feels like a rubber band about to snap. “You’ve been gone for a long time, Nej, you’ll forgive a man for wanting to catch up. Maybe I’m just curious about all your exciting adventures at sea.”

“My adventures at sea involve a lot of waste management and trying to keep my knives from rusting from saltwater. It isn’t particularly glamorous.” She smiles kindly at him, sympathetic but without pity. “I’ve missed you too, Jes, but you know that’s not why I came.”

How could I forget? Jesper could no sooner do so than he could lick his own boots while they were still laced. No, it’s no use putting this off, filling the silence where an empty space sits loudly where another person should be, but he’d tried. He’d missed Inej terribly while she’d been away, as he always does, and it had been easy to slip into friendly conversation and banter just as they would, were this simply another one of her usual visits—like they really are just catching up. It is wonderful to see her, in any case, and it had been nice to pretend, selfishly, that things were normal, if only for a minute. 

“Tea?” he offers dully, though the jig is long up by now, and feels a pang at how the word sits wrong in his mouth. Wylan is the one who usually offers tea, who always has their friend's favourite biscuits and herbal blends on hand, slipping into the practised role of hosting like a well worn coat while Jesper chatters away—but they’ve only got Jesper for a poor replacement now, little good he is at it.

“What happened, Jes?”

“It didn’t seem like anything at the time,” Jesper says, after a long beat. “You know we still do work for Kaz, when it suits. It was just—it was like any other job.” 

Inej nods, she perches opposite him on the kitchen table, sweeping her long braid over her shoulder to wrap around her hand, combing through the ends as she listens. 

There had been nothing especially interesting or dangerous about the job at all. Thinking back on it, it was comparatively boring, a surefire win—and it had been—a veritable success, until it wasn’t.

Tagging @oneofthewednesdays @sparrowmoth @sunfl8wer @waterloou and @sixofcrowdaydreams (but no pressure! 💖)

[hermesgoestojuvie]

do you have any permes hcs or fic ideas?

oh anon u have no idea what you've unleashed. the permes fic ideas are all i have some days, alas, im not that accomplished at the whole idea to words transition as i wish i was. i'll go into a few more concrete ones under the read more

Quick note: So like. All the things I plan to write happen when he’s 18+. and there's no sibling or parent incest. (bringing that up cause i got an. interesting dm once.) So this is just a quick disclaimer of sorts. And I’m not hating on anyone who wants to write or read something dark! I mean for instance I have a time travel Percy/Hermes brainworm that is considered dark and probably not what a lot of people want to read, so i'll tag it as such.

The One Where There is a War

Explained a little more in detail here but I have no problem talking a little about it again. It was inspired by this one perpollo fic that I'm still looking for so I can link it, bc trust me, it is GOOD. (edit: FOUND IT!!!! HERE it’s by @ghost-bxrd)The premise of that fic was a war between the gods and demigods, and my fic is meant to draw from that as well as some elements from Lore by Alexandra Bracken. It takes place post-second Giant war, but I'm toying with the idea of having the war and all related events, like gaea's rising, happen when percy is maybe 19-20? I'm not sure yet though. I might keep the timeline as is instead. For now, just know that it is post-second giant war.

Anyways, the premise is the new war the demigods have waged on the gods, when Percy, already a conflicted party to the war, comes across an injured Hermes when he is separated from his group of scouts.

2. Warning: Untitled For Now But It Is The Dark!Hermes One

you ever read child surprise by aphroditesfavorite or the breezeblocks series by violetmoreviolent?

Both are perpollo, and while I've not caught up to child surprise (i'm two chapters in, its been in my marked for later for a while, and ive had the tab open for ages, i just keep getting distracted lol) i know that it does deal with a time-travel trope, with percy, post-second giant and titan wars, waking up in the past, the day athena and poseidon compete over athens.

from what i hear, where child surprise is perpollo, there is a dark, forcecful hermes scene, which is absolutely not meant to be shippy btw! i heard from a friend who has gotten farther than me that the aphroditesfavorite has also stated that the shippy comments received about that hermes scene has made them uncomfortable so like, dont go reading it for that guys please.

breezeblocks meanwhile has a take on dark!apollo, a more ancient apollo, in a way. an apollo that you remember IS an olympian and all that may entail. i actually have caught up with the latest updates, and it takes place in the present. i dont want to go spoiling, but I will say that like, the way its all unraveling and unfolding is just so interesting, im high key invested.

@ashilrak and @mrthology have also written an absolutely heartbreaking, gutwrenching, exceptionally glorious banger of a fic, HAUNT ME, THEN- that also really captures the otherness and ancient, almost older, aspect of the olympians.

anyways, the reason i bring these fics up is because i just really love the idea that percy was born from the sea, while also acknowledging that one of my favorite parts of the whole book series in the first place is percy's connection to mortality and to his mother. reading child surprise really was root of a lot of ideas of percy emerging from the saltwater fountain in athens at the time of poseidon and athena's competition, with the idea that the trip to the past coincides with unwanted percy's ascension. it is not the birth of percy jackson the demigod, but in half, percy jackson the deity (the other half near coming to fruition in tartarus before he forced himself to stop.)

all that^ was just a very long way to say, this fic, im not sure WHAT it is yet, or where the direction its going in is, but we have established permes in the modern era, the time slipping happens when percy is struggling with keeping his impending ascension at bay, and then percy deals with a hermes at his like. prime? if thats the word. having to reconcile that with the softer versions they know later.

3. The One I've Been Struggling With

i'm just gonna copy/paste some stuff from my outline, like just the first two pages. this is the most concrete fic wip i have lmao. its all very rambly bc thats how the process goes for me so sorry abt that! anyways, starts below:-

an au that is not modern times, but perhaps in the past? Ancient Greek times? So more “ancient greek minded hermes.” Or if you think there is a better alternative, that would work too, I’m all ears. Trickster god Hermes (which he is) and minor immortal(?) Percy.

i dont know what percy's situation is yet. need to figure that out

i was looking at a comic and thought, trickster god Hermes would definitely pull something like this on Percy. And then I thought, what if, trickster god Hermes, sees this one man (Percy) and falls in love with him. But this man seems to pine for a woman who doesn’t love him back, and so Hermes takes her shape. (I don’t know who this woman would be. Annabeth? It could be her, but I also love the bond Percy and Annabath have in general, she and him are incredible friends. Rachel? I loved her friendship with Percy too.)

Anyways, Hermes taking their shape made me laugh a bit because wow Percy is getting catfished by a god. And then I was like WHAT IF- Percy himself is a minor immortal like. A young nymph-ish type. A prince of Atlantis? A demigod turned prince of Atlantis? I am not sure what he is, but, I am going to use nymph as a placeholder until I figure this out. 

So sure, Percy is immortal, newly or otherwise, but he’s young and still not fully like, aware (I don’t know if that's the right word) about what it means to be immortal because he literally was born 20 years ago, which is normal mortal young man age. And Percy is like, “I’m as old as them and I want to live as them. I was them.”

His father is protective of course, he is aware of the way of the gods and how they chase pretty people. Poseidon warned him about gods, how they come and go, how he should never fall for one because loving one usually ends in tragedy or heartbreak- that to them hearts are easily won by tricks and discarded as easily. (Thinking again: mortal Percy turned immortal by marrying/mating with Hermes? Except, then I thought, Poseidon wants Percy to be immortal–if he thought Hermes showing interest and Percy reciprocating would allow for Percy to choose to be immortal he would probably begrudgingly allow it. So then….immortal Percy? Need to think)

The big Hermes reveal is when Percy is attacked or injured, or some other god shows up, and Hermes saves him but reveals his true form in the process. 

BACK TO THE PLOT!!!

Hermes was like, I will have this nymph, and that is FINAL. And Percy is kind even though he is not necessarily always NICE, (it may be ancient greek but new yorker percy is timeless) he's sweet and cares so much. he’s a hero and so loyal. he's brave and mischievous and genuinely good, and Hermes is just. Blown away, by the way Percy loves, so deep and it consumes you, to be the one Percy cares for, Hermes thinks there is no feeling like it.

Hermes tells himself that Percy can't possibly be deserving of mortal love. So what if golden haired Annabeth (placeholder for now, still dont know if we're going the annabeth route?) is a warrior who can run like the deer and loves the very woods Percy does. No, he needs a god's adoration, a force to be reckoned with at his beck and call to fulfill his every whim the way Percy himself makes others feel. If people would be loved the way Percy loves, everyone would be a god. 

I am laughing at Hermes taking the shape of Annabeth while talking to Percy, but also using the moment to talk up Hermes. Like if Percy is in his starry eyed about Annabeth phase, Annabeth wanting to have a sit down would be so exciting for him, and Hermes as Annabeth would be petty enough to be like lemme proselytize about myself, “have you heard of the great wonderful god Hermes?”

Percy being like, “Yeah my dad tells me every day, stay away from these people and then gives me a list of gods, why?”

Hermes immediately pissy

Percy is still talking, “so yeah Hermes is on the list too- why, Annabeth? Did something happen? you look...not well. Are you sick?”

Hermes, through gritted teeth, “with all due respect to... your father, I think you should hear about the god Hermes because he's not... whatever it is your dad said.”

Percy: Well, apparently the god Hermes fixates on pretty people and tries to get into their pants using trickery.

Hermes as Annabeth: CHOKES

Hermes-Annabeth: THAT IS SUCH SLANDER. I have never.... ahem, i have never heard of that about the god Hermes

^That was the first two pages. there's 11 more of me realizing writing is hard and i have commitment issues. but hopefully i finish at some point bc this is the fic ive poured some serious time in!

anyways, that was the three main fic ideas ive been tackling. i have had more that i immediately forget about, but just know, i can think about them all day!

[comingyourlugubriousness]

"Thanks for inviting us Tuna, Rook...and I guess Azul! I can't wait to see all the events!" Here's my boy Yume all dressed up for the wonderful and charming @tunabesimpin's SEA SIDE PARTY! , Along with their reluctant plus-one Idia. (The Great Grim assumed he was invited of course and tagged along as well.)

(I had a lot of fun designing outfits for this! I can't wait to see everyone ocs dressed up! 0v0)

Yume’s favorite things to do in the summertime are splashing around, building sand castles, of course and getting ice cream to cope with the hot weather! They would definitely want a crack at the splash contest! But in their free time, they'd hang out with friends, eat good food, and collect shells and help Idia make sand castles! And keep Grim out of trouble!

Idia tries to peacefully stay in his shut-in area, playing hand-held games in his easy fold-up beach tent, but somehow gets dragged out into the fun! I could see him getting a bit competitive and tactical about capture the flag.

Drabble for the event under read more!

DRABBLE START! -

“C’mon Idia don’t you want to have a classic anime filler beach date with me?” Yume said dramatically, fluttering their lashes and putting on an overly cute voice.

 Idia snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, don’t even try that, you know I do, just...not with…everyone else…” Idia muttered. He sighed, just as dramatically, and hid his face in Yume’s neck to sulk. His arms wrapped around their waist, nuzzling his nose into their skin. 

Yume melted at the gesture, letting out a fond sigh and putting their arms around him as well.

 “Oh, no fair, you know I’m easy…” They cooed, tangling their fingers in warm flaming strands. They took a few moments just sitting in silence and enjoying the hug.

 “I wish Ortho could come...” He said quietly, warm breath on their skin as he sighed.

“Aw, I know, me too.” They said rubbing small circles on his back.”But, you said it yourself. Unless you designed a completely new body by tomorrow, the sand and saltwater could harm his systems. You can’t risk that…and I only get a plus one!” They said, matter of factly, shrugging a shoulder. 

Idia made a dull noise of acknowledgement, drearily sinking further into them. 

Yume sighed, pressing their cheek atop his head.

“I know, even though we’ve been out a few times…it's still hard sometimes huh?” 

“Nightmare mode.” He said in a muffled voice. “Y-yu can’t expect me t-to do a Max difficulty  mission so soon-!, I-I haven’t leveled up enough.” He whined on their shoulder.

Yume rolled their eyes fondly at his wording, but understood. They still had their ups and downs too with their anxiety. Sure the days Yume didn’t want to go out or talk to new people were far less frequent than Idia’s, but they still happened. And he always supported them… 

Yume frowned, rocking them back both and forth as they thought, and came to a decision.

“Fine! Okay, you win. You know I won’t force you to go.” Yume said. 

Idia gasped, pulling back and scooping up their hands, a sparkle in his eye. 

“Really!” He cheered, giving them a sharp tooth grin, as if he had gotten away with something devious, but Yume knew that was just his face. “Wee he he~, Yume’s the best!” He said, squeezing them in a tight hug. Yume let out a squeak, but grinned at the affection.

“Yeah yeah…maybe we can have a summer movie marathon instead, or something…” They said once he let go.

“Hm?” Idia pulled back, raising an eyebrow. “...aren’t you still going?”

“Nah…” Yume waved their hand. ”it wouldn’t be as fun without you. Besides, I don’t wanna, third wheel while Leona makes gross old man passes at Yuuta. Bleh.” They said, pretending to gag.

“B-but…you already made those kawaii matching shirts for you and Grim…” He said, remembering how cute the two of them looked in the pictures they had sent earlier.

“Ah. well..we can wear them another time, really…it's okay...” They said, trying to give him a reassuring smile. Then they turned away to their phone, opening up Magicam to message Tuna. 

Idia pouted, his brows furrowing…

They finished typing out an excuse, but before they could send the message confirming their absence, Idia placed a hand on their phone, stopping them. Yume furrowed their brow, looking up curiously

“W-well…m-maybe it wouldn’t be so bad…a classic cliche beach day with Yume…” He said, avoiding his eyes blushing a bit.

“Really!? You mean it?” They asked hopefully, lacing both their fingers together.

“Y-yeah, I won’t be going at it solo…you’ll be with me, right?” He asked, giving them a small smile. Yume gasped, their chest filling up with warmth.

“Of course!” They said, then threw their arms around him. Idia yelped, a giddy grin on his face as he fell back on his bed from the force of their hug. - End!

Big thank you to @tunabesimpin for hosting the event! If you don't already follow them check them out!

[roguemonsterfucker]

More TheHunter adventures!

Despite being EXTREMELY sick with allergies today, I made major progress in my game. I took the time to look at all the weapons so I could figure out how to be more efficient with my shots and also get higher scoring trophies. I doubt I'll ever get super high scores and that's fine, but it's kinda fun to have something to aim for (pun not intended).

Not sure why I didn't get any pictures of them but I farmed saltwater crocs a lot today and was able to get a Gold quality one. No special colors yet, but I have high hopes for my crocs.

I spent some time deciding where to set up my lion hunting camp and just as I was going to place a tent there... uh. Something special appeared.

Albino wildebeest!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH! Right where I was setting up my lion hunting camp.

This is my second rare color. Here's my two rare finds next to each other.

I also was finally able to hunt a raccoon dog! AND I got a Gold quality one!

I have high hopes for getting special colors of these guys eventually.

So pretty fun day, despite being unable to breathe because of allergies rofl.

Once again, y'all if you wanna play this game, it's SUPER on sale right now. Only $3 for the main game, but I do highly suggest the Master Hunter Bundle, which is about $14 and comes with some really good DLC. The best duck/goose hunting map is included in that bundle, as well as a few other good locations. Most of the DLC is at least 50% off, with many of them being 75% off. The only ones not on sale are the newest ones.

I think it's a super fun game, but I'm a weirdo who has liked hunting games since I was a kid despite loving animals. 😂 I just like exploration + seeing cool animals! And this game provides!

Also, if the game seems too hard... Just uh. Hit me up about mods/cheats. 😅 Personally I'm not "cheating." Just fixing a few accessibility issues. I still want hunting to be challenging. Defeats the point if I just spawn rare colors in rofl. But I have no judgement for anyone who wants to play whatever way and I'm happy to help folks make the game fun.

So yeah. Check it out if it appeals to you! It's got beautiful maps and beautiful animals. And it's multiplayer so you can join up with friends! I could take some folks hunting/sight seeing if they wanted so let me know if you get the game!

And you don't need all the map DLC to visit them! As long as the host owns a map, anyone they invite can come too. 🥰

[disneynerdpumpkin]

Look at them <3 LOOK AT THEM

OHMYGOODNESS They're so adorable I can't

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Here are some headcanons I have for the two of them: (also please keep in mind these are my headcanons, pls don't claim them as your own lol ty)

o There's playful bantering and teasing between the two of them. I'm pretty sure Geppetto would play pranks on him sometimes lol (e.g., Pinocchio's short so he would place things on shelves just slightly out of reach to irritate him XD). They'd be so mischievous together. They'd be so chaotic lol.

o They are literally inseparable. Literally best friends <3

o I also think Geppetto would spoil him a lot (like with treats, new toys, cooking his favorite meals, etc.). HE CAN'T HELP IT. Pinocchio is his only child and he wants him to have nice things

o They've only ever argued about something ONCE. That's it. And it was prob just something that worried Geppetto (like maybe Pinocchio came home late and was too caught up with his friends or smth). And then they make up (obviously)

o Pinocchio is baby <3 Literally. He's only been alive for a short while and while he may mentally be a 7-year-old, he still sometimes needs to be taken care of like an infant (occasionally helping being fed, tucked into bed, being held and carried, etc.) And Geppetto doesn't even question it he cuz he loves him sm like ohmygoodness

o Pinocchio's still so sweet and innocent but sometimes he will be mischievous. (not in a bad way, in a good way and he means no harm at all. Like, just cute mischief)

o Also have a headcanon that Pinoke's fav candy is saltwater taffy. When he opened his gifts on his first Christmas morning, he opens a package and there's a huge bag of taffy entirely for him. His eyes get so wide and his jaw drops, he stares at it for a minute, then looks at Geppetto (still frozen with that expression) and tries to give it back to him. and geppetto just bursts into laughter cuz his reaction was priceless

o CUDDLES <3 SNUGGLIES HUGGIES DID I MENTION CUDDLES They're so cute ohmygoodness

o Technically, Geppetto made Pinocchio and he basically already belongs to him. But after he became a real boy, Geppetto officially adopted Pinocchio (which was an uncommon thing to do in 1800's Italy), and got him a birth certificate, etc. Cuz he loves him sm he wants him to really belong to him and have his last name and everything (And Pinocchio's official full name now is Pinocchio Joseph Lorenzini) (Cuz "Geppetto" is the Italian form of "Joseph" so technically Pinocchio has his father's name too)

o Geppetto, when he can, reads stories to Pinocchio before he puts him to bed. And he tells the story really dramatically and really gets into it lol And he gives Pinoke warm milk and honey to drink to help him fall asleep <3 (Like just imagine Geppetto reading him a story by the hearth, Pinocchio drinking his warm milk and his little eyes getting heavy and he's nodding off to sleep. AAAHHHHH SO CUTE I CAN'T EVEN)

o Pinocchio knows the power of his cuteness. He CAN and WILL use the "puppy eyes" tactic. And Geppetto (most often) can't say no.

o Tickle fights and showering Pinocchio with affection is a normal occurence. Like Geppetto loves him so much he will legit pepper kisses all over him (and Pinocchio, as much as he tells him to stop, he doesn't mind it at all)

o They love doing things together like snowballs fights, pillow fights, building forts, going out for gelato, playing in the snow, raking leaves in the fall, etc. They are literally best friends <3 And I'm pretty sure they talk about everything too (Like Pinokes would be working on his homework or smth and then he'd randomly be like, "what if you baked cookies with salt instead of sugar?" And Geppetto would just casually answer like "That would taste terrible. who would do that?!?!")

o Geppetto, after Pinocchio became a real boy, started measuring Pinocchio's height and carving markings in the wall. Every few months or so, he will use his tape measure to measure Pinoke's height, then carve a spot into the wall to mark how tall he's grown. (and then cries when he sees his little boy is growing up so fast)

[rainsnz]

kazuha — there’s a storm on its way from the east of inazuma. kazuha’s always been sensitive to the weather, but something about this one settles an irritating feeling in his nose that he just can’t seem to get rid of. is this a foreshadowing? (could be pre or post vision hunt decree, whichever you’re comfortable with!)

Hi everyone, Kazuha's my favourite character so obviously he's the one I was going to write for next anyway. Thank you very much for requesting him, I enjoyed this a lot :) Please leave a comment if you enjoyed as it helps me with knowing if I did well or not!

Rainstorm

(Kazuha & friend (unnamed)) (4.4 k words)

As usual, Kazuha knows a storm is coming long before anyone else does.

The acrid sting of lightning mixed with the fresh scent of rain upon saltwater. An unmistakable sensation stirring in his perceptive nose that immediately tells him every last detail of the incoming inclement weather. A sharp sniff of the easterly winds heralds the foreboding forecast.

He thinks nothing of the itch ghosting against the edges of his nasal passages, simply dismissing it with a soft sniffle, a dignified finger against his nostrils. The strong ozone flavor always contrasts so strongly with the gentle hum of precipitation, and tends to awaken a particular tickle in the back of Kazuha’s sensitive nose. That’s not to mention the varying temperatures messing with the delicate balance of his sinuses, nor the cold rain and humidity itself that always invites a sneezing fit or two whenever the storm first makes itself known. It’s still bothersome, though - which is why, with a quiet sigh, he bends his index finger underneath his septum with a gentle rubbing motion.

Rustling sounds beneath him distract Kazuha temporarily from his slight nasal discomfort, and he inclines his head towards his blond companion, a soft smile alighting upon his face. Kazuha’s perched upon a sturdy branch in a tree, above the pile of leaves that they’d slept on, looking out into the breathtaking scenery. The morning truly is a beautiful one, with the rosy dawn’s fingers stretching across peach-coloured clouds, and with birdsong gently caressing the ears, resounding around the forest in which they’d laid to sleep.

“Morning, Kazuha.” A yawn, and the blonde stretches, revelling in the gentle rays of sunshine. Kazuha himself revels in the gentle beauty of his friend, whose boyish features shine in this early light. He fits so well against the forest’s natural glory, with a few stray leaves delicately perched in his pale-golden hair. 

His friend turns to him, the pleasant dreams slipping from him slowly, and a questioning expression replaces his sleepy stupor.

“What’s up?” asks the boy who he’d shared a camp with, eyes trained on Kazuha’s twitching nostrils. He, like many others, has clearly learned that the samurai’s nose has never led anyone astray.

Kazuha hates to break his silence, preferring to listen to the song of the forest and the lovely rustle of leaves in the wind, but he finds it pertinent to inform his friend of his discovery. “Storm’s coming,” Kazuha intones, eyes flicking to the east. “We should get moving if we want to stay dry.” 

The blonde-haired boy frowns, looking at the clear skies broken only by the leafy canopy that they currently sit beneath. “I believe you, Kazuha, but we probably still got a day before it hits, right? I want to investigate what the townspeople were talking about with the herbs in the forest.”

There had been talk of a very rare medicinal herb, native to this region. If they were to collect it and bring it back to the village, they’d be alright for a while, money-wise. Eating random things in the forest had been, well, fine, but both had begun to crave the foods of their upbringing after long days on the road. “Come on, with your nose, we’re practically set.”

“I know that, but…” Kazuha trails off, finger still pressed to his nostrils, scrunching up his irritated nose with another soft sniff. “I-it’s a strong one, I can feel it.” 

He does have to admit that visually, the skies are forecasting a beautifully sunny day, but the sheer itchiness prickling at a particularly sensitive crevice in his nose is screaming that the storm is practically upon them. And - oh, his nose gives a twinge of itchiness, and although the finger digging into his septum has thus far been somewhat effective at staving off the insistent tickle, his nose is no longer so willing to listen - his mouth opens, and his eyes flutter shut, a small gasp the only warning before -

“h-a-aah-Ishh-! h-aAhhisshh! haH-eKSHH-!! h-hah-! …”

Kazuha wavers, eyes still tightly squeezed shut, as the itch rages on in the back of his nose, the sneezes having dispelled exactly none of the irritation; in fact, they may have just fanned the flames. Previously his nose has been experiencing a slight tickle, which has now erupted into a burning sensation not unlike the feeling of firecrackers’ sparks against skin. Only, his nose is so much more sensitive than normal skin, and the slightest itch is starting to make his nostrils flare erratically, mouth snapping open for more -

“hhyiihh-ESHH-! h-iihhISHH’n! h’AKKshh-!!”

The sneezes are stifled against his finger, harsh against his throat, and yet his poor irritated nose begs for more-! Kazuha has no choice, his helpless sniffle leading almost immediately into an itchy sneeze -

“h-iyAHKSHHn-h’kssh-h’iiHKSHh—!” A brief pause, and the samurai lets out a small sigh, rubbing at his reddened nostrils with the back of his hand. Not very dignified, but at least it’s better than wiping it against his sleeve - something he’s resorted to when his nostrils are streaming and he can’t stop sneezing, but now is, thankfully, not that time. 

Worryingly, his nose still itches, the tickle only slightly lessened, still bothering his sensitive nostrils. Kazuha sniffles wetly out of instinct against his hand, keeping it there as he can feel the shadow of a sneeze starting to approach once more.

“Bless you.” His friend’s voice reaches him, but Kazuha shakes his head, his eyes fluttering shut once more as his breaths catch in his throat -

“iih-hiHshh-!! h-ahiSH-! h-ihhhkshh-!!”

A rapid-fire trio of sneezes stifled into the finger jutting into his nostrils, followed by a wet snort-sniffle. Unfortunately that only irritates his nose further and he gasps, nostrils flaring to the size of acorns -

“hih-hiih-hIIHKSHH-! hi-SKHiuu-! hih-h’KSHn-!”

His head is thrown back, hair tossed in the air as he gasps helplessly, lungs spasming - one hand hugs the tree’s trunk while the other catches as many sneezes as possible, “iiiHhiiiTCHH-iiKSSHHIYUH!’kksHIIII-!!” He wavers, breath catching as he’s bent forward, his nose squirming against his palm - “-ihhIHH-hh’-!! h’Kshhyii-! n’kshii-!! h’AKKSHyiii-!!…snff. hi’kshsh-!! ..snffsnff……” A shaky inhale, and despite the itch rattling around in his sinuses he can breathe without falling into a fit. He sniffles again, habitually, and apologetically rubs his nose as he casts his gaze downwards at the other man. The rubbing does not seem to be relieving the tickle, and he can’t stop sniffling in a fruitless attempt to quiet his complaining nostrils.

His companion peers up at him, an affectionate grin reflecting the sunlight. “Better get out of that tree before you sneeze yourself off the branch.”

On another day, Kazuha might have retorted - there’s never any danger of losing his balance, as he’d trained for many years to be as agile as he is now, but the slight teasing tickle keeps his mouth shut for fear of yet another sneeze escaping. Instead he leaps down, landing lightly on his - 

The samurai stumbles, taking another step to balance himself from the rough descent, and the other man catches him up by the arm.

Unsteadily, heart beating a bit faster from the unexpected surprise of losing his footing, Kazuha smiles sheepishly at his friend. “Th-thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” His comrade hums, already walking deeper into the forest. “Now c’mon, we gotta get going if we want to beat the storm you were talking about.”

…

A rosy sunrise blossoms into a quiet morning. The birds are not singing their usual fare, and if Kazuha hadn’t already smelt the lightning on the air he would have found their absence alarming. In fact, it is rather unnerving to walk in this strange atmosphere, when all the creatures have scattered or hidden in preparation for the storm; he feels rather vulnerable, out here in the forest, not knowing any good escape routes.

“You’ve been sniffling a lot,” Kazuha’s friend notes, as they cross a stream. “Guess it makes sense, since we’re relying on your nose right now.”

Kazuha himself had not really noticed, so he only hums noncommittally in response. He has to focus in order not to reflexively sniffle after his friend has pointed it out, instead settling with a cautious finger against the sensitive appendage. 

His nose has been itching almost non-stop. It’s making the task a thousand times harder than it should be, making tracing a faint leafy scent analogous to pinpointing a specific fragrance in a perfume shop. Every slight sniff and change of scenery fills his nose with sensations that would normally only be slightly tickly, now filling his nose with a magnified itch that he wants badly to clear with a strong sneeze.

“Which way now?” The voice breaks him from his musings and Kazuha blinks, before tilting his head to the side, sniffing softly.

Following the fragile scent is difficult enough when his nose is terribly distracted by an itch teasing, flickering at the back of his nose. Inhaling purposefully sends another tickle against the agonizingly-sensitive reddened rims; a hand flies up against his nostrils, cupping the suddenly-flaring entrances with a weak barrier of protection. A breathless gasp - “-ehh-scuse me-“ a slight wiggle to his ticklish nostrils - “ehehh..!” and he’s past the point of no return as his eyes squeeze shut into his hand - “eeHEHH-KShYiii-!! e-hKSHII!! e-e-hhKSHHIyuu-!! heh-ISHH—!”

A soft moan; Kazuha sniffles against his hand, grimacing slightly at the mess, and the beginnings of congestion that the sneezing hasn’t solved - he can already tell from his own fluttering gasps that his nose isn’t quite finished, and his eyes are shut even before he can open them to see his friend’s questioning gaze - 

“-hh.. hi’ihh-!!”

Another wavering gasp, an agonizing pause - 

“..ihihh-..”

For a moment Kazuha contemplates picking up a flower and taking a sharp sniff to clear his tickly sinuses by force. Every hitching gasp, torturously teasing at his senses, is making this idea less of an idea and more of a reality.

“-hh-iiiihh-h.!”

He needs the sneeze out now, his nostrils impossibly wide as they suffer from the whims of the tickle.

“iiiihh-h-..!”

Streaming eyes open against the world, and he grasps the stem of a hanging blossom, dangling from vines above, pressing his flaring nostrils into its sweet pollen -

“-HhIIIIHHHEKSSHHIYYUUUUUU- h’IIKKSSHHIIU-hh-ehhIIYYEESHHH-iiESSHIIIUU-!!!”

Petals scatter to the sudden wind as his head jerks backward, an angry tickle burning through his suffering nose like the fuse on fireworks -! 

“iiiHhiiH-ISSHH-!! h-ahh-!! h-AAKKSHH!! h’AKKSHIIYYUU-! h’kkSHHIIIIehh-!!”

Kazuha does not regret much about his life, but as he hitches desperately, his nostrils trying to violently empty themselves of the fragrance and the storm of pollen currently plaguing them, he counts this amongst the things he wishes he hadn’t -

“iiYYEESHHIIIU-iiEEKKSHHIYUUUU!! hii’hKSSHHYIUU-h’ii-ihhKKSSHHIIIEEHH-!!”

Burning throughout his nostrils summons a heaving gasp, his lungs bending like jelly to the whims of his sinuses’ attempt to expel the itch and, now, the pollen. Normally the fragrance of flowers already sends Kazuha into a helpless fit; the combination of his debilitating itch, borne from the ominous promise of storm clouds that he can’t quite shake, and this new sharp intake of pure hay-fever torture, is his downfall. His eyes are burning and itching, but that’s nothing compared to the absolute disaster that is currently fluttering at the walls of his extremely sensitive nasal passages like a thousand leaves in a hurricane; he can barely draw air into his lungs fast enough to compensate, the sneezes bursting out in spiraling fits swiftly -

“-hihi-IIEESCH-!h’YIIIIESSHH-hh-iiiIYYEESHH-h’yyiIIIIEESHHHIIUUU!!!”

Desperate sneezes against his steepled hands attempt to expel the irritants, his nose’s sensitivities protesting the strength of the invading allergens.

“-’YIIIEESHHH-iiuuuu-!! h’iIIEYYYIIEESHHH!!......snfffff-!!”

He recovers with a wet sniffle. It seems that the fight against the omnipresent itch has been won, at least for now, as it once again settles into a background drone. On the other hand, the fight against being an absolute mess of snot is one he is not eager to face. It’s time to resort to - Kazuha’s cheeks flush with embarrassment, awkwardly guiding his hands away from the absolute disaster as he peeks over the edge of his sleeve.

“uhhhnn…” another timid sniffle and he hides his dripping nose behind the cloth on his arm. “..Sorry.”

His friend’s smile is one of sympathy; he digs around in his pocket and produces a square of fabric. With one hand he shakes it out and extends it to the samurai. “Here.”

Kazuha’s free hand accepts the cloth scrap gratefully. “My thanks.” Quickly he pulls it over the bridge of his nose, pressing his hands over it to conceal the mess. He blows his nose, as softly as he can manage, as his friend watches on patiently. When that doesn’t rid his nostrils of the itch he tries again, the sound embarrassingly wet and obnoxious, reminiscent of an ailing horn - yet still woefully weak against the towering foe of nasal irritation. The snot gurgles, wet and sticky, out of his quivering nostrils and into the now-soggy folds of the cloth, and it’s mortifying.

Kazuha could have stood there blowing his nose for hours, trying to dull the blade of itchy torture sharpening its distracting sensation against his nasal passages - yet something tells him that this itching feeling won’t leave him very easily. Self-conscious of the expectant gaze upon him, he inhales deeply, steeling himself to try to search the forest once more.

The samurai’s eyes are watering, yet he still sniffles, nostrils flaring as he tries to catch the scent of the herb, and that’s definitely a mistake right after an attempt of clearing his nose - in rushes a cacophony of starkly contrasting scents, which had formerly been dulled by the congestion plugging his passageways. Layers of horribly strong, torturously tickly fragrances of flowers and leaves and dirt and the looming threat of a storm - dizzying, leaving his mouth snapping open, his face once again ducking into the safety of the cloth - 

“-hh’ah-! h-aHH-iSHH!! haHHkSHH!! h’aKKSHHII-!!”

The blonde-haired companion has been trying not to call too much attention to Kazuha’s sniffly dilemma, but at this point the samurai’s suffering is too obvious to ignore. “Do you want to take a break or something?”

“ih-hIHKSH-n! ‘ksshnt-! -snf- N-no, I - hh’AKSh-! snf- I’m a-aaaHHKSHH!h’akSHH-!! I’m, alright-‘kkshh!…-snf..” He blasts his nose into the soggy cloth, turning away from his friend’s worried gaze. After a slight pause to catch his breath, he straightens up, trying to conceal his sniffling in the folds of the pseudo-handkerchief. 

Unfortunately, he’s not quite sure where the herbs might be - his nose is certainly very distracted and it’s rather embarrassing to admit. So, holding his breath this time, he walks blindly into the woods where he thinks the scent had been wafting from. As he calls back to his friend, Kazuha has to fight to keep his voice level. “..L-et’s go, th-the skies won’t stay- ihkshh!! snf.. won’t stay-- iiiHHHKSHH-!! ..s-stay clear for long.” (And neither will his sinuses, as he blows his nose again in an effort to trace the herb’s scent once again.)

..

His hand is tightly pressed against his nose, and he squeezes his eyes shut with a quiet stifled fit. “iihKSH! ih-k’shT-! i-i’kSHihh-!!”

He’s far ahead enough of his friend that they’re silent, masked by the sound of rustling leaves. Not so easily hidden is the crimson hue that the rims of his nostrils have taken on, and the steady stream of involuntary sniffles that keep uselessly attempting to rid his sinuses of the annoying itchy feeling. 

“You sure this is the right way?” His friend calls, starting to close the distance, because Kazuha’s starting to slow, unable to see through a hazy fog of itchiness and of tears arising from the forceful fits. “I think we might’ve just walked in a circle. Isn’t this where we camped last night?”

Alarmed, Kazuha stops, blinking the bleariness out of his eyes. His heart sinks as his gaze lands upona very familiar tree. “..Yes, this is indeed where we…” A sharp sniffle interrupts him, and wearily he brings his hand up, rubbing at his nose. “..snf-snff.. I’m sorry, friend, I think.. ihhKSHH-! I think I got confused.”

His blond companion tsks, studying the scenery as he strolls over their former campsite. “You’ve sneezed like, what, a hundred times in the last few minutes alone. Is the smell of the storm that distracting?”

The guilt in the samurai’s stomach twists like a sword. Why can’t he stop sneezing? “I r-really am sorry, I didn’t - snff-! - Didn’t expect - snff-! to be so..snf-..” A scrunched up nose points to the source of his problems, yet he soldiers on, voice wavering more and more dangerously; “Th-the i-itch, it - snff-!!.. snf!..sorry, it- snff-!! ihiiihhh-it’s…”

He pauses, a hand raised to hover under his nostrils. He waits, hoping for the irritation to fade - and, to his dismay, the itch proves too overwhelming. His nose scrunches up, a sniffle to dissuade the tickle from spreading fails miserably, and a moment later his hitching gasp completely derails his train of thought. “I-I haftasne-eze…” Kazuha whispers in a rush, an eye already sliding shut even as he fights to keep them open -

“iihhIIIHHESSHIUU-!! h’ahhISHH! h’AHHkSHH-!! h’kSHIIYUU-ha’akshIYUU-!!”

His hands are soiled, but he continues to try to sneeze quietly into them - key word being try -

“ii’iIYYEshh!! N’kshh!! h-kSHH-!!h’iKSHh-!!”

“Maybe we should turn back after all…” Kazuha’s friend finally says. His hand settles against Kazuha’s shoulders, which shudder with every badly-stifled sneeze. “We can make it back to the village by nightfall, and I remember the way.”

“N-ot until we- hhAHHSHn-! h’AAHKsh-! until we f-iiHHKSSHHIYUU-!! find the - IHHKSHHyyIU!! th-the her’kshhhiiu-! h’ehYIISHH-!!”

“Kazu, I can’t even understand what you’re saying.” His friend murmurs gently, smoothing loose strands of hair out of the samurai’s face as he jolts forward with a fittish sneeze. As he rears back with another gasp, the man deftly catches the scrunched up nose with his fingers. A frown forms on his fair face as the back of his hand brushes Kazuha’s forehead. “That’s it, we’re going.”

There’s no way he can argue now, incapacitated with an itchy fit burning its way through his nostrils. The boy’s nose quivers, held hostage by his friend’s well-intentioned fingers, yet the sneezes aren’t quite willing to simply wilt away on command; nay, they surge forward, the stifled nature sending sharp pains through Kazuha’s abdomen. 

“-iik-shTT-! hi’ikSHH! h’kSHH-t!! h’nkSHh-!!”

A small involuntary whine alerts his friend, who quickly releases the poor, crimson-red abused nostrils - which instantly flare as Kazuha’s face crumples into a desperate expression -

“-hhieEESHHIyyUUUU-!! h’iiYEESHHIIIi-!!h’kkSSHHII-!’kSHHyiiiUUU-!!! h-hh-hHHIIYEEIISHHHIIIIuu-!!h-hh--hhii---hh’ii-iiih-EEKSHHHYIIUUUUUU-!!!”

A particularly hard sneeze makes him stumble forward, and Kazuha most definitely would have ended up face-planting, had his friend not been standing there.

“Ok, ok. You’d better sit down.” A steadying hand on his back guides him onto the forest floor. He’s grateful, as he’s terribly dizzy for some reason. But as much as Kazuha wants to thank his friend he can’t, not when his breaths are seized by the urge to expel as much air as possible in the form of helpless sneezes. 

“-YIIIIEEESHHH-!! h’yiIEESHH!!..h’kSHHHIIIIIiyuuu!!”

He’s too busy gasping to speak in detail, but his message is urgent. Even despite the miasma of hazy scents, the samurai’s senses are filled with the static of lightning. The storm is upon them, and his nostrils are very displeased with the turn in weather. Kazuha pinches his horribly itching nostrils, voice squeaking amidst a flurry of sneezes - “hii’kSh! h’KSHI-! G-guhh-nda -hhAA’ksHH!! h’kSH-! r-rain-nh’akkSHH!!”  

The storm chooses that exact moment (right on schedule according to the intensifying tickle in Kazuha’s nose) to materialize above the two, a booming clap of thunder heralding its appearance. Fat raindrops patter onto the leaves above them, wind rushes against heavy branches, and Kazuha’s friend stares upward, muttering a string of curses as the fury of the skies pounds against their backs. 

“Shoulda listened to you, huh?” The blonde, now very soggy-haired boy remarks, as he leans closer to his friend, a hand protectively shielding the pre-occupied, red-nosed samurai from the pouring rain. The other hand tugs at his arm, helping him to stand. “C’mon, let’s hurry…”

Kazuha isn’t quite sure what happens next, on account of the fact that his eyes are squeezed shut, and his breaths are stolen by sneeze after sneeze. All he knows is that the world is all dark but his nose and throat are on fire. Through cold and soaking freezing wet he stumbles, depending solely on his friend’s guidance, he shudders from the cold and sprays sneezes indiscriminately into the brush they are crashing through. He’s glad his eyes are shut because he’s pretty certain that he would not be able to walk in a straight line - actually, it’s a miracle he’s still on his feet, thanks mostly to the fact that most of his weight is being supported by his companion. 

“Just a little further,” a voice urges, and he can’t quite place who it is. He feels rather strange, and very tired, and very dizzy, and his nose itches badly, so he stifles yet another sneeze into his elbow - “hi’kshh!!”

Their footsteps eventually sound different, as if they are against rock rather than spongy brush, and Kazuha dazedly wonders if they’ve entered a cave, from the way that the noises echo - but that can’t be right. He can’t smell the damp scent of mushrooms and stagnant water, nor the dusty scent of stones. An experimental sniff yields nothing - his nose is entirely too stuffed up for that, and he’s left coughing, his throat burning from the failed attempt at sensing his surroundings. A moment of panic, as if he’d been blinded, fills his crippled senses, but he’s quickly soothed by a comforting hand upon his shoulder. “We’ll stop here.”

Something dry, and soft, is eventually pressed against his nostrils, and Kazuha uses the last of his breath to blow his congested-yet-runny nose into its folds. It helps, somewhat, and with a shuddering breath he can once again open his eyes.

His friend is there, and when he catches sight of Kazuha looking back at him, he exhales with relief. “You alright?” 

Kazuha nods, although that hurts his head, and he tries for a weak smile. “Yeah, I-” He realizes that his nose is scrunched up. With a shaky sigh, he pinches at his nose. “...Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I shoulda listened to you when you said it was going to storm in the first place.” The blonde blows steadily into a small stack of sticks, and a fire flickers to life.

The smoke is strong-scented enough that it burns through Kazuha’s congestion, and he pulls away, a sneeze erupting swiftly from his liberated sinuses - “hhyAA-ISHH!! hy-AiISSHIUU-!!” Hurriedly he presses the cloth against his nose, a flush settling on his features. 

“Bless you. Times, like, a thousand.” 

“Thag you.” Kazuha blows his nose into the fabric. It’s rather ineffective, with the congestion barely budging from his stuffy nostrils, but his head hurts so badly that he doesn’t have the strength to try again. “Where are we..?” It feels strange to ask, to be so disoriented, but he truly has no idea. It is as if someone has stolen his vision, or tied his hands behind his back.

His friend shrugs, his hand in a small patch of peculiar-looking sprouts. “No idea. But these are really annoying.” He pokes at them. “They keep sticking to my clothes. And my hands.” A pause, in which he shakes his fingers free of the clinging vines - he freezes, staring at the plants. 

Then he yelps with surprise, holding up a sprig of green leaves. “Wh-hey, this is it! The herb they were talking about!” He holds it up so that the samurai can inspect it, beaming from ear to ear. 

The boy sniffles, his abdomen sore from all the stifling, but he forces himself to sniff the sprig - the subtle fragrance fills his nostrils, but his entire nose is so full of itchiness and all sorts of overwhelming smells mixing together and it’s giving him an awful headache at this point - he winces, pinching his aching nostrils as a sneeze sneaks up on him - “h’ksshh-‘ksht-!!” Thankfully the other man has pulled the plant away, eyes widening with recognition, apologizing profusely - “Shit, sorry Kaz-“

The boy shakes his head, mouth already open - “hh’aKKSHHyii! h’kSHH!!...do’t abologize.” A harsh sniffle against the thick congestion - which makes him cough, slightly - and a swipe at his dripping nostrils leaves him in a slightly better position than before (or so he thinks). “..snff….Th-then, we cad-h’aKKSHH-!!h’kSHH!!......snff..” Kazuha rubs at his nose, groaning slightly as it fails to rid his nose of the irritation.  “We ca-d..snff..g-go back. We have what we were lookig for..”

Despite his words, he doesn’t really want to move from his position, his entire body feeling as though it had been weighed down. He feels a bit like he’s being crushed at the bottom of the ocean, and the thick congestion and snot running from his nose, forcing him to breathe shallowly through his mouth, makes that a very apt metaphor to his situation. Not helping is the feeling of sand in his throat, which only contributes to the simile. He coughs again, and that sets the world spinning - he has to close his eyes for a brief second.

When he opens his eyes again, it’s to his friend staring at him as if he’s grown another pair of ears. “Don’t be ridiculous, Kazuha, you can barely stand. Or breathe without sneezing. You’re obviously sick.” 

Kazuha stares back. It takes a few seconds for the words to click. “...Sorry?”

His companion nods regretfully, reaching forward tenderly. He can’t suppress a small shudder as the cool hand alights against his forehead. “Yup, I was right - you’re running a fever.” He whistles, pity written all over his face. “Earlier, I thought you were a little warm, and now there’s no doubt. Can’t be fun in a rainstorm.”

Kazuha feels so awful that he doesn’t even have the strength to protest. Instead, he gives a little fluttering sigh, sinking down against his friend’s chest. “Ah. That bight explain… why by dose is so i-hiiihh-!..i-tchy..”

The warmth he’s lying against shakes with a slight chuckle. “Never change, Kazuha.”