#i need to eat joseph i need to bite him and rip him apart with my teeth

[gales-boyfriend]

even-feelings-fade-away -> bisexual-joseph-joestar

[the-firebird69]

Girl wearing bite sleeve, takes a bite from a trained protection Belgian...

So I'm looking at the dog after you can tell what it is but looking at it and I'm looking I couldn't tell because you got to look at the teeth and they look kind of normal but they're big and it's got a big mouth are you looking Kingsley and his mouth is kind of big his teeth are a little bit big but they're very sharp and so I want to check that and I touched one and I said boy that's very sharp so most dog teeth are not really massively Sharp Rusty's teeth were not and the malamutes teeth were not that sharp and she says you're right about something this is not a dog so I was mad and he says these people might be idiots and I said this you're f****** around with all this stuff see you have nothing everybody knows they're going to take you down you seem perfectly happy with it and want to dick around with everybody. They're mentally putting you into these situations to get you to do certain jobs and you seem not to care and I said you're ready for suicide squad 2 just saying why and laughing and stuff I said I don't see what's so funny because we have to do it to get him to fight I said you're doing the job the whole time and you won't give us a break at all and we need to know that and then he says oh yeah so then they're saying what's the profit in that they said you're not really getting anything and this is weird getting off on it and stuff and I said you're a freak and I left but somebody says they know what happens because it's not all the stars

Harley Quinn and I have the pink jacket on

I know which one dies no there's a bunch he says but there's one of them who dies in that group and it's the one who's handling the dog and he she goes up to him and says I feel sorry for you already this is why this is that's your killer right there and you'll never know it because you guys are in a days this is why is that and it's looking at the movie later and he says oh my God that's me getting eaten and she's feeding him people kind of dangerous and really stupid and that's what they are

Hera

Yeah that handler here dies and practically everybody in the room and a couple women too cuz they're trying to get her to get hurt and she was not encouraging it they're just a bunch of jerks who want her stuff and money and she fed them to the dog and she had to release the dog into the wild now she tried to hit the dog the dog got away and she was huge and it hurt our son this is why I leave her alive and he's thinking because she's ready to get rid of you or something and she is a queen and he says okay so get out of there and he says we will come back and that's what he's thinking. He says this I got to think that you guys sometime and says Kingsley is a friend and yes I don't want those things you're nuts some lay there this little a****** pushing me right off Hangouts who have ridiculous so he's kind of laughing and he's going to hyena and he hears his friends so he thinks that's a little then Joseph finds them listen they're eating people too you know reputation they clear out there's a place for food so we lead him to it and it's fish and they said good it's much better and they got better healthy and these people are nuts these hyena are deadly and angry all the time they're a crazy breed and you can hear it too they're laughing at you and mocking you and they rip you apart it's really gross and you're sick weeklings and it's coming up pretty soon that these people die and it's in her movie and the people who are in the tower with her a couple of them are the idiots and they die later you can see they're not willing to do anything it's very strange to her race or just craps

Thor Freya

Olympus

[jeromesxreader16]

Such a Joker (55)

Part 54 Here!

~o0o~

I stop at the bottom of the staircase with a basket of clothes. "You two need to come down here or you're going to be late. We have a set time, you know!" "WE KNOW!" The twins yell. Four feet hitting the steps quickly. "Can I give this to him?" Juliet opens a card reading a sweet love letter to her father. "That's very sweet, honey. I'm sure he will love it." Jeremy shuffles his feet pushing his glasses up his nose. "Do you have something for him, Jer?" He nods, pulling out a book about his favorite animal. "He loves tigers!" Jeremy's eyes light up. "Really?!" "Yeah! Come on!"

I rush the kids to the car, buckling them into their seats before making way to Arkham Hospital. "Make way! We're back!" Juliet screams as she runs to the door, swiping the entry card. The nurses stare at my family strangely each week. "Juliet, honey. Slow down."

"Daddy!" Juliet yells at the gate, flailing her arms around. "Welcome back, Juliet." A guard by the name of Rick speaks up. "Thanks, Rick! Care to open the gate, good sir?" She bows to him playfully. As the doors slide, Jeremy walks through the patients calmly minding his business while Juliet attempts to make friends.

"Jules, honey, come on." I laugh, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the table. Jeremy sits in front of his dad crossing his hands in front of him. "Hello, dad." He smiles brightly at Jeremiah. "Daddy!" Juliet throws her arms over his neck hugging him.

Rick comes over nodding to us. "His room is ready if you'd like to escort him." I nod, going behind Jerimiah's wheelchair. "Thank you, Rick."

The kids walk behind me as I push Jer to his secluded room on the end of the hall. "Jeremy, love, get the door for me, please."

"Sure." As my boy pushed the door open Juliet jumps on his bed. "Can't we spend the night, mommy?" I scoff, "Jules, you know we can't." She crosses her arms. "Why not?" I bend down to her level. "Don't you have something for him?"

She takes the card out of her pocket and pushes it towards Jeremiah. "I made this for you, daddy." She places it on his leg. He just sits still, looking dead at the wall. "Are you going to read it?" Juliet looks at me. "He won't read it if you're in here, mommy. Can you step outside?" I give her a sad smile. "Honey, he's... daddy can't move." She looks up at me confused. "That's not true. I've seen him!" Jeremy walks over and leans to his father's ear, whispering. Then goes to his mouth, listening almost as if Jeremiah is speaking back.

"Kids! That is enough! Jeremiah is not going to move. He's not going to talk. All we can do is come visit and see him. We do not get a response. Now straighten up or-"

"Oh darling, you've gotten yourself all tightened up haven't you?"

His voice cracking. Dry and horse. I turn around seeing Jeremiah standing out of his chair. "What? See a ghost?" He laughs spinning around. "Daddy!" The kids cheer running to him and jumping In his arms. "Oh, my boy and girl. I've missed you!"

I stood frozen as the kids interacted with him. He looks over at me. Scars and all, he's still my love. "(Y/n), my wife. Come to me." As a river flows one way, so does my heart. I reach for him, walking closer. "You haven't aged a day. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner." I rest my head on his chest letting out a breath. "Jeremiah. It's been so long." He hugs me close. "I know, darling. I know, but now we're together again. As a family." I back away from him slightly. "Why have you done this for so long? How long were you able to-" Jer shovels me in his arms, pressing myself against him, devouring my lips. "Everything is fine now. Unanswered questions are useless. Live with me, now, in the present."

~

The kids and I walk into Arkham with smiles. "Morning, Rick." He tips his hat to us, opening the gate. "A pure saint you are." I internally roll my eyes. "I just want my kids to have their time with their father."

I grab the handles on Jer's chair pushing him forward towards his room. I kiss the side of his head. "Almost there, honey."

The kids open the door letting me in and close it right after we make it through. Jerimiah sits still waiting. I stare at him confused. "Jer?" I question leaning down. "BOO!" He raises his hands scaring me. I jump back holding my heart. The kids laugh running to him.

Hours of laughing and playing with Jeremiah the sky has darkened. I put on my jacket and gather my kids. "Alright. Time to go home, loves. I still need to make dinner. Pops is coming over." Jer frowns and hugs his two wild redheads. Juliet shuffles her feet. "Do we have to, Mommy?" "Honey, of course, we do. This isn't a hotel."

Jer kisses my head. "Not long now. We will all be home." He rushes me out and closed the door leaving me to wonder about his plans.

~

Juliet and Jeremy sit at the table swinging their feet. I open the door with my hip, setting the roast on the table. "Now remember what I told you." "Don't talk about dad." My children say out loud. "That's right!" The doorbell rings and the two kids rush to it.

"You're under arrest!" Jeremy says holding his hands like a gun. "Woah!" Jim throws his hands up. "Don't shoot. Don't shoot!" Jim scoops him up wrestling him on the couch. "We got you now, Pops!" Juliet says beating him with pillows. I smile looking at them. I get a cold chill against my neck making the hairs stand up. I rub my neck and turn around to see nothing.

Must be a draft.

"Alright, kids, Dad, come on and eat."

All four of us around the table acting as a picture-perfect family. All that would soon change.

~

The children in bed asleep when my phone rings over and over and over and over. "What Dad? I'm getting-" "DID YOU KNOW (Y/N)?" I bite my tongue. "Know what? What's going on?" "(Y/ N), Jerimaih has escaped!" My blood runs cold at the mention. I sigh into the phone. "I don't know where he could go, Dad. He would come here if he knew where I was." "It's not you, he wants. It's me." "Do you need me?" He holds his breath. "I can't tell you to leave the kids."

I look over my shoulder at the doors. "I'm going to Bab's to get Barbara Lee." I hang up locking the kids behind both double doors.

~

At Barbra's the lights and music suddenly turns on.

♪Now, I don't hardly... ♪ ♪ But I think I could love her ♪ ♪ Crimson and clover ♪

"Turn around." She speaks to the figure at the bar. "Turn around. I won't ask again."

A chilling voice emerges behind her. "Surprise." She whips around to hit Jerimiah but is pushed into Ecco. "Easy. It's just a surprise party. For you, Barbara Kean, queen of Gotham, business titan. How exciting. But there was another you, I... I seem to recall. Wasn't there? Then again, there was, uh, another me, too. Oh, so hard holding on to what's real. It's... It's enough to drive you mad." He cackles over her. Barbara Lee comes running at Jerimiah, throwing a statue at Ecco.

Jeremiah looks down at her unamused. "Cute. Mine is better." Jer simply shoots Babs in the abdomen. "Mom!" Jerimiah picks Barbara Lee up, "She has your eyes. For now."

Echo whimpers, holding her stomach. "I... think she... nicked me, Daddy. I... oh, boy." Jer stares at his assistant. "Oh, dear me. My sweet Ecco, no longer my echo. There will never be one like you. (y/n) will miss you dearly." She smiles widely, "Really?" Jerimiah aims and shoots her in the chest. She smiles as blood pours down her chin. "But you were deceiving and in love with my wife. I suppose there are other employees available."

"Let me... down." Barbara Lee struggles in his arms. Jerimiah leans down to Bads on the ground, pistol-whipping her.

"Hush, little Barbaras, don't say a word. Now we're going to play a... little game. By now, James Gordon should have made it to your apartment and called his daughter. When he gets here, I want you to deliver a message."

~

I park my car as I see Dad sitting alone. I run-up to the club seeing Bads laying down. "What happened?" She glares at me. "He took her! Your psychotic husband took her!" She reaches for me in anger. "He took her! That lunatic took her! He said you have to come, and if you don't come, he's gonna kill her." "Where?" "The place where he was born again." I rub my face in frustration. "Ace Chemicals." I run down getting in my car and racing there. "Jer!" I call out loudly. "You can't do this shit, Jeremiah!"

"Jeremiah? Is there a Jeremiah here?" I hear him call. I follow the voice to see him all alone. "So what should I call you?" I tilt my head, tears flowing. "Jerimiah." "No, no. That's a boy name." "STOP THIS!" I scream. His facade falls slightly but never cracking.

"I call you the devil." Dad appears behind me with his gun drawn. "Wher is my daughter?" Jer looks at him confused. "The Devil? No, Call me... Jack. Mm, no, no, no, that's not right. J-Joseph. John. Jay. I-I don't know. I just... I feel something new crawling from the primordial ooze that was me. Something... beautiful."

"How long have you been pretending to be brain-dead?" "How long have you been pretending? That's a joke. I know you're not pretending." I look up seeing Barbra Lee hanging over the tanks. "Ah, ah, ah, that's far enough, (y/n)."

"But you still haven't told me. Why? Why keep pretending?" I look at Jer in confusion. Why has he waited all this time?" He smirks, "I was waiting for him to come home. We're bound together, he and I. It's the one thing I knew for certain, the one thing I knew was true. And then he just... abandoned us. Do you know how it feels to have the one, the only thing you love ripped away from you? It feels like this." Jer pulls the rope releasing Barabra Lee. "No!" I scream grabbing hold of the rope, the fibers sliding my hands.

Clangs of metal are thrown at Jer, who dodges them. "Who's there?! What do you want?! Show yourself! Show yourself!" I see a black mass whooshing over us. I gasp in realization. "You." Jeremiah laughs before he's knocked out cold.

~

"Now you give those kids kisses from their Pop." I laugh as I hang onto my father's arm as we walk to dark streets. "You know you could come over. They miss you. You make them laugh, dad." He shrugs and kisses my head. "I'll come over tomorrow night for dinner. Let it be a surprise." I nod and open my car door sighing. "Bye, dad." "Bye (Y/n). I love you. Tell Juliet and Jermey I love them too." "Of course." I finish, getting in my car and closing the door.

The drive home is never my favorite. Time alone is cruel to me. I still hear his laughter. Both of them are so different yet so loveable in their ways.

Juliet holds so much of Jerome in her. Especially her eyes. Full of joy and determination boxed up in two beautiful green orbs. Jeremy loves the books and brain teasers and puzzles like a certain Valeska who holds my heart.

I pull up to my small house upon a hill. The lights to the living room, kitchen, and kids' room are the only lights illuminating the house. The sitter's car was still parked in the driveway where it was hours ago untouched.

I unlock the door stepping into my house. "Jeremy! Juliet! Babes, I'm home!" I hear my daughter's beautiful laughter from down the hall. "Mommy! Come here and look!" She giggles, creating a smile on my face.

Jeremy giggles and yells from the same room, "Juliet made a mess, Mom!"

Maybe they're playing house, maybe even cops and robbers!

My heels click as they edge closer to the door. I grasp the handle smiling. "Did you two have a good time with Abby? I hope you were" I scream as the sight before me wounds my eyes.

Abby, the sweet high school girl who has watched my babies grow up now lays in my daughter's bed with knives and pins stuck in her body.

My baby girl, Juliet, stands next to her, knife in hand, blood on her cheeks, and a wide smile spread across her lips.

I cover my mouth horrified. "Juliet. Honey." she giggles and pulls out a pin of Abby's eye. "We played Doctor, mommy!" She runs to me laughing and holding the weapons.

Jeremy runs in from the bathroom with a blood-soaked rag. "I'll help clean, mommy!"

I fall to my knees letting a few silent tears fall. "Are you okay, mommy?" Jeremy asks with big eyes filled with worry. He walks over, hugging me by his sister's side. "I'm sorry we ruined the floor. I told Julie we needed a sheet first." Jeremy says, kissing my cheek.

Juliet wraps her blood-covered hands around my neck kissing my cheek like her brother. "Did Pop not come too? I miss him." I smile holding my girl as Jeremy goes to clean the floor again. "Pop has a busy day tomorrow morning. He said he'll make it up to you." she nods and laughs again.

Jeremy takes the knife from his sister and holds it up to me smiling. "Do you want to play, mommy?" I see the joy in those eyes as she asks me. I see hope in her eyes.

"Yeah, mommy! Play with us!" Juliet jumps on the bed over Abby's body.

I grab the knife and stare down at it.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, come on, mommy. Let's play."

I look up and see Jerome sitting at Juliet's vanity playing with a big brush for her play makeup. "Aw come on doll. Look at her. You'll make her so happy."

I turn my head to the right and see Jerimiah flipping through a children's book. "Better than intoxicating their minds with this, darling. Think of how much they'll admire you. Our little ones will look up to you as their hero. A hero they're going to be told is evil in Gotham. Raise them right."

Jerome grabs my hand and helps me grasp the handle of the knife. "For me doll. For Jeremy and Juliet. For you, (y/n). I know you miss it, doll. Go on."

I walk over to the cold dead body and look at my little boy and girl between their fathers.

"Let me show you two something Daddy showed me." Juliet runs over and hops on her bed next to her brother, standing in between Abby's legs. "What mommy?"

"If you slice a clean cut from the corners of her lips... to her cheeks..." I slice the skin feeling my hands become lighter.

"She's smiling!" Juliet giggles and jumps. "Isn't she pretty, Jeremy?" Juliet asks, hugging her brother. He giggles and nods jumping on the bed.

I see my men both smile at me. "Let's go get cleaned up and then we can call pop and tell him goodnight." She nods and skips to her bathroom.

"You're such a bad mom, (y/n)." Jerome purrs smacking my butt as I pass him. Jerimiah rolls his eyes and simply kisses my head. "They'll turn out to be magnificent, darling. Even more than they are now." I shrug smiling at them both.

"What can I say. They're Valeska Twins." 

[heartofsnark]

This is Love (Chapter Eight): Whispers of Wolves

Notes: Heyo, since A) I took a break and B) it’s friday the thirteenth, as it was when I posted the first chapter of this is love back in January, I decided to go ahead and post chapter 8 today. Chapter 9 is already done and I’ll be beginning work on chapter 10 soon, as this is my current hyper fixation. I hope you all enjoy. 

Word Count: 8671

Chapter Warnings: Oh boy we got some shit today my dudes! Stories/Reference of Past Child Abuse, Animal Death In the Context of Hunting, Homphobic Slurs/Homphobia towards lesbians, and referenced past anti-Semitism. Less important but there’s a pov change and like three different quotes in this chapter, from the Book of Joseph, and two different songs, which is probably a lot but I ain’t editing this shit anymore

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here

Pain cracks through Joseph’s skull late that night, shooting across from each temple, seeming to split his head apart. He sits on the edge of his small bed, a modest bedroom in the back of his church. He knows what it means, he’s grown accustomed to the sharp ringing pain, visions always come with it. They’ve started to come more frequently since The Lamb arrived.

He grabs at his head, as if he could press hard enough to keep his skull together as pain racks him, an instinctual reaction. Pain strikes through and breaks the reality of the world around him, closed eyes starting to see visions of what could be, images of what may await him.

A world anew surrounds him; one changed by the Collapse and washed of sins. Lush and natural, even more beautiful than the world that came before it. Vibrant pink flowers decorate the earth, thick green moss covering trees. A soft pink flowered apple tree stands at the center of the compound, white buildings replaced with hand made little houses.

Men and women are all around, working around New Eden. Parents playing with their children, carrying their babies; loyal followers allowed to pass through the gates and grow their family. Some members bring back hunted animals to be prepared for meals and others tending to gardens.

And then he sees his brothers and sister.

A fact that changes time and time again as his visions come to him in waves. He’s seen New Eden with and without them. He’s seen each of his siblings die time and time again, old and young, premonitions of what will be or what could be.

In this version, this vision, he’s been allowed his siblings. Faith, Jacob, and John talk at a distance where Joseph can’t quite hear the words, only taken in the moment. Jacob and John’s ages showing more clearly in the gray just starting to pepper their hair.

A voice rises above all others, cutting through the mumbled conversation through the compound, and Joseph knows it’s calling towards him. The soft voice calls him a name similar in meaning to his title, but it cuts to his heart so differently.

“Papa!”

Through the eyes of his older self, he can only watch and take in what happens, no control as he turns to see the source.  A young boy of about five comes running towards Joseph, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Joseph’s body moves of it’s own volition reaching out to hug his son, his son, but before he can feel the embrace of his child the world cracks apart again.

Pain splinters through the world and rips him from the moment, when he opens his eyes again he’s back in his room. And his hands itch to hold his son who’s yet to exist, instead he rubs at his temples, fingers knotting in his own hair as he attempts to soothe the agony within his own head. The only respite being what he hopes is a new promise from his creator. A chance for his family to not only walk with him to New Eden, but the chance to expand it.

He’ll have a son. The very idea soothes his pain and is like a salve to frayed nerves. Becoming an internal mantra as he eases himself back to sleep that night.

 Sweat coats Dahlia’s skin as she does another push up, her muscles aching at the workout. She shifts to lay on her back on the living room floor, t-shirt riding up her sweaty stomach. Her second day of no work has turned into an impromptu work out, push up and using doorways for chin-ups. She uses her shirt to wipe sweat off her forehead before grabbing her phone to check the time. Dahlia must have gotten her way through the day, it has to be late by now.

“Fucking hell.”

It’s noon, it’s only fucking noon.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” She screams into a pillow, how the fuck is it only noon? Dahlia looks at the mess of her coffee table, trying to consider what to do just to eat at her time, she could draw again. But her hand is still cramping. She read somewhere you’re suppose to do warm up for drawing, she’ll have to start doing that.

Then she sees the Book of Joseph, her drawing still sticking out of it. She’s burned through her backlog of manga on her phone and fuck, it’s something to do. Joseph seemed like a genuinely sweet man, maybe he has something interesting to say.  Music still blasting, because everything in her life requires a soundtrack, she opens the book.

 “Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows.

Be grateful to those who have caused you harm.

For it is these sufferings that have led you to me.”

 The first sermon in the book, she chews her lip, it’s not that much different from things Joseph told her yesterday, that he’s thankful her past led her to him. But, something rubs her wrong about the idea of being grateful for her abuse. Not for her, she plans on dying mad about it. She reads onward, an illustration of a flaming capital building surrounded by waves with someone drowning in the foreground. That’s…dramatic.

“If a person had been walking down the poorly maintained road out front of the Seed’s house on that afternoon in June and felt the strange urge to glance over, they would have witnessed a bizarre sight.

They would have seen a man dress in black pants and a white undershirt, frothing with anger, brandishing a comic book in one hand and a bible in the other at his son, a child of about ten. But no one had been down this in the poor suburb of Rome, Georgia, in a long time. Not ice cream trucks, not social service cars, not even police patrols.”

Dahlia stops almost three pages in as Joseph begins to write about a dying widow who once gave him and Jacob cakes before she grew sick. The picture he’s painted is far too clear and hits too close to home for her to continue, at least for the moment. A belligerent bible thumping drunk of a father who derided Joseph for loving Spiderman comics and beat Jacob’s back for the younger brother’s supposed misgivings.

Father Monroe, her stepfather, wasn’t quite the ruddy faced sloppy drunk that Old Man Seed was. But when Joseph describes Jacob offering his back up for a beating, she nearly feels the bite of leather against her own. Stripes for the backs of fools, is all she hears.

She wants to talk to Joseph, she realizes, thinking of both the beginning sermon passage and how their own pasts match up. Does he really bless the man who hurt him? Is he grateful for Old Man Seed? Maybe that kind of forgiveness and peace with it comes with age or is it just him? Ruth has a similar story as well, a little older than Dahlia, and she holds on to the same anger Dahlia does. Has Joseph managed to let it go? Does he still like Spiderman? Did his father beat the passion for comic books out of him or does he still enjoy them? Its hard to imagine, the intense Joseph Seed casually reading a comic book.

Less than three pages is a pathetic excuse for reading and didn’t pass much time, but it’s intense for her. So, she’d rather just…stare at the wall for a bit until she’s ready to tackle it again.

It’s Saturday night, Pratt and Hudson won’t be going to The Spread Eagle tonight, because no work. Meaning a rather mundane day with no interruptions. Other than a short walk, Dahlia spends the rest of it fucking around on her phone and watching shitty tv; passing out after downing an unevenly heated microwave meal.

Sunday morning rolls around, spent much like the last, Dahlia using her down time and excess energy to work out. It’s important to stay on top of exercising and staying in shape, given her profession, she makes a mental note to order some weights online. There’s not really a proper gym in the county and she doesn’t want to lose muscle.

She’s in the middle of another round of pushups when there’s a knock at her door; she jumps up from her position, skin still slick with sweat as she rushes towards the door. Finally, something to disrupt the monotony.

It’s Pratt standing on her porch, hazel eyes looking her over. She’s expecting a shitty comment on her appearance, dressed in shorts and a baggy shirt, hair mussed with sweat.

“You need something?” She asks him, slightly out of breath. Dahlia lifts the bottom of her shirt, using it to wipe sweat from her face, breeze skimming the bare skin of her stomach.

“What the hell has you sweating, Rook?” The older deputy chews his lip, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“I was working out.”

“With a head injury? Seriously?”

“The fuck else am I suppose to do?”

“Figured you’d be bored out of your mind, reason I’m here,” he grins, “throw some clothes on and we can head out.”

“You mind if I shower first?” She asks, while she’s not sure where he plans on dragging her but she’d rather not stink like sweat while she’s there.

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s fine.”

“You wanna wait in here?”

He nods and Dahlia steps aside to let Pratt into her trailer, it’s not the most tidy of place because, well, she’s not the most tidy of people. She can feel the judgement starting to build up as Pratt looks around her messy living room. A pillow and blanket haphazardly on the couch; her duffle bag on the ground with clothes falling out of it. Her table has her sketchbook, thankfully closed, and the Book of Joseph is tucked under it. It’s a messy little nest, but it’s hers.

“Are you sleeping on your couch?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just, I prefer it,” she explains with a shrug, not really sure how to elaborate on her weird feeling about sleeping in a bed.

“You have a bed, right?”

“Yes, I have a bed, I just, shut up. I don’t barge into your house and start judging how you live,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “just sit down, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dahlia grabs a change of clothes, hearing the couch springs creak as Pratt sits down. It’s weird seeing someone in her trailer. The closest she’s had to visitors have stayed on her porch. Pratt is the first person to be in her actual trailer, he looks immensely out of place and judging by his eyes glancing around, he seems to feel that way too. She tries not to think too hard about it, making a beeline to her bathroom.

She tries to keep her shower short, not wanting to make Pratt wait too long and not wanting him to snoop while he’s left alone. That doesn’t stop her from playing music as she showers, just limiting herself to two songs before she jumps out. A quick dry off and she tugs on her clothes, towel still on her damp hair as she walks back out to her living room.

Pratt, sure enough, has found something to snoop through. Dahlia grimaces at the sight of him picking through her little jewelry box of photos. Was he rifling through her dufflebag? She clears her throat, smirking when he jumps up.

“I was just-”

“Snooping,” she cuts him off, ruffling the towel over her hair.

“It fell out of your bag.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It did...after I kicked it a little, but it did fall out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snatches the little wooden box off the table, Lloyd and Caroline’s photo booklet was on top, so at least she probably avoided him seeing baby photos.

���You, uh, don’t look much like your parents. You adopted or something?”

She can’t help but chuckle as she puts it away; she can’t blame him for thinking Lloyd and Caroline must be her parents. The pair are both about Whitehorse’s age and why else would she have so many photos with a couple that age. But, the couple absolutely look nothing like her. Both fairer skinned and blue eyed; Lloyd with dark strawberry blonde hair and Caroline with light honey blonde locks. Short of some shenanigans the chance of them producing an olive skinned, brown eyed brunette is slim. And while the couple have their share of adopted children; Dahlia isn’t one of them.

“No.”

“Oh, uh…” She can nearly see the gears turning in Pratt’s head,  her usual one word style of answering has put Caroline’s devotion in question and Dahlia won’t have that.

“They’re not my parents; legally or biologically.”

“Oh, you just hang out with old couples?”

“Maybe, maybe not, ain’t really any of your business,” she shrugs, “more importantly, where the hell are we supposed to be going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t trust your surprises.”

“Would you rather sit here and twiddle your thumbs all day?”

“Fuck  no.”

“That’s what I thought, you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she throws the damp towel onto her laundry chair before shoving her feet into her boots, “lets get going.”

She locks up behind Pratt then follows him out to his car. Compared to the last time she was in his car, this is infinitely more relaxing. She hums along to the radio, resisting the urge to sing along. He probably already heard her yelling along to her music in the shower, she doesn’t need to blast his eardrums at close range. After one song ends and another shittier one begins she starts to fiddle with the radio setting.

“The driver is supposed to pick the music,” Pratt tells her as she flips through stations, trying to find a station playing something other than country.

“The driver needs to worry about the road, while I find something worth listening to.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your taste in music is so good.”

“I have excellent taste in music,” she turns to one station and it sounds like a choir.

Help me, Faith

Help me, Faith

Shield me from sorrow

From fear of tomorrow

“Turn that crap off, right now.”

“The hell is that?” It’s not a bad song like technically speaking, but it’s definitely a bit much.

“Peggie station, it's all crap, Eden’s Gate runs it. It’s all their choir music and sermons.”

“Gross, but the song ain’t that bad.”

“You might wanna have your head checked again.”

“Piss off.”

She finds something better, even if she doesn’t necessarily mind Eden’s Gate music, she’d rather listen to something without fear of a sermon coming up after. At the very least, Pratt doesn’t complain about her choice, a few more songs playing before they cross into Holland Valley.

“How’s your impromptu vacation been going?”

“Boring.”

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs, “figured you’d be going stir crazy by now.”

“So, you decided to come end my boredom?”

“No need to sound so excited,” Pratt rolls his eyes, not appreciating her lackluster response.

“Sorry, I, uh, do appreciate it,” she admits, looking out the windows, cheeks warming at it. It’s embarrassing to say that she is genuinely thankful. Hell she nearly jumped up and ran to the door like a dog when he knocked. Boredom is hell.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was bored too.”

They pull into the police station parking lot and she raises an eyebrow at him as he parks. He’s taken her to work? What on earth is he planning?

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna enjoy this, c’mon.”

She follows him out and around the building to the helipad she noticed before, a black police grade helicopter on it.  He doesn’t hesitate to climb into the pilot's seat, telling her to get in. She listens, climbing into the seat next to him. It looks like a mess of buttons and controls to her, none of them making sense. But Pratt confidently starts turning switches, lights coming to life in front of her.  They’re going for a helicopter ride, holy shit.

“Pffft,” Pratt huffs out a laugh, “we’re not even in the air yet and you’re already grinning.”

“This is okay, right? Like, no one will mind.”

“I’m the only person at the station who can fly, so if they needed it, they’d be calling me anyway. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to know I can enjoy this guilt free.”

“And lift off,” Pratt says as he brings the chopper up off of the ground. The station grows smaller and smaller as they ascend up into the air.

“Wow…” Is all as can seem to say at first as the chopper kisses the sky.

They’re surrounded by a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds as Pratt flies across the county. Lush green forests and farms beneath them, mountains along the edges of the county. A top down view of animals running through, specks in their vision. She oohs and awes, unable to help acting like an excited child over the view. They fly along the county, Pratt is kind enough to answer her stupid questions about flying, what buttons and switches mean. She’s certain to a seasoned pilot her naïve question must be frustrating, but he grins with every answer. Before she knows it the sky around them has shifted to an awash of pinks and purples, the sun setting, before a midnight sky takes it place. Brilliant stars twinkling around them, feeling so close, like she could reach out and touch Andromeda.

Once it gets too late, Pratt lands back at the station, her cheeks ache from all the time smiling. He drives her back to the trailer park, the pair in comfortable silence as she hums along to the radio.  Her thoughts drifting off as they are so quick to do. Pratt and her butted heads a bit when they first met, but he’s quickly become her closest friend in the county. Their light-hearted bickering and shenanigans have become her favorite part of her days in Hope County.

He walks with her to her trailer, shoulders brushing occasionally as they move. She turns to look at him when they reach her door. Dahlia clenches and unclenches her hands searching for what she wants to say.

“Thanks, a lot, really.”

“You like flying that much?”

“Not just for that, not to be all mushy and crap, but coming out here, keeping me from going nuts, being my friend. It, uh, means a lot, seriously.”

“Eh,” he scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes, “just watching out for you, probie.”

“Well, I appreciate it, I, uh, know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”

“No one in this county is.”

“Good to know I fit in, I guess.”

“Uhh, you’re getting there, once you start stinking like beer all day and have a house full of deer heads, we’ll call it good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grins, “night.”

“Night.” She waves Pratt off before going back to her trailer to settle in for the night.

Monday is spent showing up to the station just to play with Petunia behind the building; just laying on the ground while the fluffy opossum crawls on her. She scratches along the marsupial’s back as they nuzzle into her neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home relaxing or something?” Beau asks and Dahlia shifts her head back to look at him.

“I am relaxing, what are you doing?”

“Well, everyone asked me to go see what that weirdo deputy was doing, so here I am.”

“Oh no, you hear that Petunia,” she looks at her opossum friend, “people think I’m weird.”

“Yeah, talk to the ‘possum, that’ll really show ‘em.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he just rolls his eyes, leaving her alone for the moment. Pratt and Hudson invite her out to The Spread Eagle once the sun starts to set, but a steady throbbing ache has built in her head, she skipped pain meds. And the idea of the jukebox booming in her skull makes her turn it down for the night, once she’s back to work she’ll treat them to a meal there, she decides on the quiet ride home.

Dahlia wakes up the next day and decides to finally take that hike, wanting to explore some of the mountains and woods that surround the county. The brunt of the trails seem to be within the Whitetail Mountain area up north, the mountains in the Henbane are mostly around that statue and as much as she likes Joseph more than before; the statue is still creepy.

She tucks her sketchpad, pencils, water, and her pain meds in the storage under her motorcycle seat before she drives up to the mountains; the north section of the county is colder, a chill from the air as she rides up. She stops in at an Old Sun Outfitters, buying a little black backpack to carry her stuff in when she hikes.

The woods around her get thicker and thicker as rides further into the mountains, land growing steeper with every minute, civilization sparser and sparser; buildings harder to find, just peeks of wood or cement through trees. The trees clear on her right as a turn of the road leads her to a large parking lot with little hutch and a sign that says, ‘rest area’. The hutch says Valley View Overlook. It’s built at the top of a plateaued piece of land, not as towering as the mountains in the distance, but higher than the meager hills of the valley or river. She parks her motorcycle and packs the bag before taking in the view.

A small navel high fence, she imagines waist high for others, keep animals or children from just running off the side of the mountain. It’s a beautiful sight; she can see why the lot is named after it. She takes a deep breath of fresh mountain air looking out at the soft blue sky that meets the mountains in the horizon; the deep green forests further down. Air so clean and refreshing, but for some reason she finds herself pulling out a cigarette, to fill her lungs with smoke. Too much good needs a bad, she supposes. She watches the white clouds and birds flying through, as she lets smoke settle heavy in her lungs, only parting from the sight when her cigarette threatens to burn her fingers.

She follows along a little beaten trail through the woods, kicking up rocks and crushing grass underfoot as she lets the trees surround her. Grass rustles around where animals sneak through; deer running through, other hikers crossing her path, and hunters packing bucks back home with dogs sniffing along after them.

It doesn’t take long for her to go off the path, just walking in any direction that catches her interest. Deeper and deeper into the woods, following divots and drop offs, walking along the occasional stream of water that passes through the area.  Her feet and head start to ache as hours pass, the cool air no longer able to chill her body as exertion coats her skin in sweat.

A hunting stand, one of many, is within the woods. Gray metal built around a tree with a ladder leading up. It’s empty, but if a hunter really needs it, she’ll move along. She climbs up curling her legs under her on the stand as she pulls off her back pack and red flannel, the sleeves now sweaty after her walk. Dahlia ties it around her waist, feeling the cool air on her skin as she takes a deep breath.

She takes a deep swig of water and one of the pain killers. There’s a crush of grass and she looks up to see a group of deer a short distance from the stand. A fawn and what may be younger deer, with a buck among them. The buck’s fur grayer in color than the richer warmer brown of the others. Dahlia gets out her sketchpad and pencils, balancing them on her knee as she takes the drawing the creatures. A calm energy and flow falls over her as she draws, the only sound the animals rustling within the woods. She’s better at drawing people than animals, she realizes, when she can’t quite get the right slope of the buck’s muzzle, but she doesn’t stress herself over it. No one will ever see her wonky deer. She looks up; the buck has gotten much closer, shuffling near the stand.

Dahlia puts her sketchbook aside, half finished wonky deer abandoned, as she moves to lay on her belly over the edge of the hunter’s stand. She stretches her hand out, his antlers high enough for her fingers to just brush the velvety texture. But that’s not what she’s after, wanting to pet the stags head. Dahlia shifts to a knee and a foot, she forces the fingers of one hand into the grating to keep a solid grip on the stand. She leverages herself to lean further and further out, stretching a hand out and nearly hanging completely off the stand. Her fingers just centimeters away from touching the stag’s head.

The fuzz of fur brushes across her fingers and the soft brown eyes looking up at her go blank; blood spraying from the side of the buck’s head as it’s body goes limp to the ground. She can’t help but jump back and fall on her ass; gasping at the now dead deer in front of the stand, the rest of them have scattered at the sight.

Maybe she should have expected it, being in hunter territory, but the closeness of it still startles her. There’s a heavy thud of boots, steady consistent footfalls crushing branches and grass beneath them. Ginger hair with shaved down sides and an army jacket; Jacob Seed.

This is likely the only time she’ll ever be taller than him, watching him from the stand as he shifts a bright red rifle from his hands to on his back. It seems so vivid and ostentatious compared to his utilitarian style of dress.  There’s a childish urge to jump on his back and scare him. But, they don’t know each other well and he’s a veteran, so she can’t know how he’d react to the sort of thing. Maybe a boo would be okay, just something small?

“You enjoying the show, honey?”

Dahlia jolts, taken aback by the sudden acknowledgment. She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear and chews her lip watching as he starts to gather up the slain deer; then he looks up at her, blue eyes sharp and harsh. All the masculine Seeds have blue eyes and intense stares; but Jacob’s gaze is colder than Joseph’s and more steady than John’s. Something almost predatory to it. 

“I was drawing him,” she says after a moment, looking down at the stag. 

“And I was hunting him.” 

“Still would have appreciated another minute or two,” she says as she grabs her bag, throwing the sketchbook back inside before she jumps off the stand. 

“So, you could flail around and try to pet him for another five minutes.” 

“Hey,” she pouts, she was caught hanging from a hunting stand like the child she is, but, “wait, you saw me?”

He gives a vague grumble of agreeance, more preoccupied with tying up the hooves of his latest hunt to make it easier to carry. 

“And you still shot? You could have shot my hand off.” Has this man never taken a gun safety course, she catches a glimpse of the scope on his rifle, there’s no way he didn’t see how close his shot was to her hand. He chuckles, dry and deep, mocking her. 

“Relax, if I wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead by now.” 

“Wow, that’s not comforting.” 

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he says, standing up and packing the giant deer over his shoulder, like it’s nothing.  

Dahlia reaches out to touch it, fingers brushing through soft fur, no warmth beneath it. She might as well be petting a rug. Jacob starts to walk off and she doesn’t know why, but she follows him. Hands clasped behind her back and walking heel to toe after him. Maybe it’s just because she’s curious about him. He’s the only one of the Seeds not to take a strange interest in her for whatever reason. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, allowing her to follow along after him. Leaves and grass crush under foot as she follows along behind him, curious as to where he’s going or doing. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s something to do if nothing else. 

“You got somewhere to be?” 

“Not really, no.” She tries to crane her head around, trying to get a better look at his face to gauge his reaction, but their height difference is too big to truly do so. The man has to be around a foot and a half taller than her; he seems even taller than the sheriff.

“Well, I do, so get out of here.” Her smirk drops, she was hoping to see him get more agitated like the youngest Seed brother, but his voice doesn’t rise. Staying the same steady deep timbre.

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere you need to be, sweetheart.”

“The nicknames aren’t really necessary.” She can’t help but say, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, the condescending way he calls her sweetheart and honey make her nauseous.

 “Neither is following me like a lost puppy dog; but here you are.” 

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.”

“You killed my only entertainment, so it is now.”

He comes to a sudden stop and Dahlia has to stop herself from running into his back; she doesn’t particularly want deer corpse on her face. He turns to face her; expression still the same stern look he usually carries, and she misses his grin when he was talking to kids at the barbecue.

“Look here, deputy, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and irritating me isn’t a habit you want to form. Get out of here.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m really scared.”

“Keep pushing, sweetheart, won’t get you anywhere.”

“God, you’re no fun.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Jacob is something wrong,” a voice cuts through their conversation, rough and masculine. And Dahlia see the long-haired man and short haired girl from the barbecue; the ones who shot her dirty looks when she talked back to Jacob.

“Nothing you need to concern yourselves with.”

“What are you doing here?” The woman asks Dahlia directly.

“Standing.”

“Fallon,” Jacob says the woman’s name, stern tone making her posture snap straighter, “I said it’s none of your concern. Let’s go.”

The three of them start to leave down a path; Fallon and the long-haired man have heavy bucks they pack as well. A hunting trip for Jacob and his…friends? Are they friends? That didn’t seem like friendship, but Dahlia is far from an expert on the matter. She offers a goodbye wave; but Fallon just rolls her eyes. Their steady footfalls leaving the deputy behind.

Well, it staved off the boredom for a while she supposes.

Dahlia lets out a huffy sigh, blowing loose strands of hair from her face as she begins back down the path she came. The sun is setting by the time she’s back to the parking lot and climbing on top of her bike.

Her stomach is growling by the time she’s driving down a main road, she sees the sign for The Grill Steak as she reaches the intersection. Dahlia pulls in, letting her stomach guide her actions, as she’s one to do.

It’s a small restaurant packed with groups of people from friends to families; she can feel the heat of the grill radiating through, the smell of her making her stomach growl. She settles into a booth by herself, when she reads through it the menu is full of gamey meat burgers and steaks. No signs of beef or pork; it’s all bison and deer. She wonders if the cook hunts everything himself, it wouldn’t surprise her, given what she’s seen of the county. He can hear the cook yelling something she can’t understand from the kitchen. Dahlia settles on ordering a cola and a deer burger; thinking about the hunted stag she saw Jacob kill.  

As she waits on her food, the chatter of a group catches her ear. They’re not from Hope County; the different cadences of how they speak mingled with fancy latin technical terms tells her as much. Trying to be discreet; she glances at them over her shoulder. A group of four; two women and two men all around the same age. Dahlia’s not the brightest bulb in the pack by her own admission, but when she hears the words corvids and lupine, she realizes they’re talking about animals. It doesn’t shock her, given the abundance of wildlife in the county, certainly people would come to research them. 

The door to the restaurant swings open and a man comes walking in, shoulders back and footfalls confident. It reminds her clearly of Jacob, the walk of a soldier, though this man isn’t quite as intimidating a figure. Older than Dahlia, though most people are, with a full dark beard and long scraggly dark hair. He doesn’t bother to take a seat at a booth or look at a menu, only giving a single wave to the cook in the back as he makes a beeline to the group. Dahlia shifts a little further down into her booth, not that anyone could truly tell she’s eavesdropping, but it gives a little more secrecy to it. 

 “You the conservationists?” 

 “Yeah, we’re studying the wildlife here… And you are?” 

“Eli, not here to ‘cause trouble or anything like that, just wanted to give some friendly advice.” 

“Friendly advice?” 

“You need to watch yourselves out in those woods.”

“Pffft.” 

“We’re well aware of how dangerous the wildlife out here can be. You-” 

“No, you aren’t. There’s wolves-”

“And bears and mountain lions, oh my,” one of them jokes, “look, we know what we’re doing.” 

“You’re not listening, they’re not regular wolves. They’ve been trained to kill and hunt people down on sight. Even if you avoid ‘em, you get on the cult’s bad side and they’ll send ‘em after you. You gotta be careful out here.” 

“Okay, sure,” the eyeroll is nearly audible, “we’ll keep an eye out for killer cult wolves, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, alright.” 

The man, Eli walks away, and Dahlia considers stopping him. Admitting her nosiness and ask him some of the million questions going through her mind. Surely by cult, he means Eden’s Gate, right? Dahlia can’t imagine who else he could mean. They’re small and close knit, but they’re not a cult, right? Cults imply something more out there or intense; they’re just a little Christian church. Joseph may have his own book, but they still follow Christian ideas of sins and scripture.

And wolves? How could they possibly be training wolves? It’s all so ridiculous and asinine, making gears spin and churn in her head until they overheat, but it was said with such conviction. By the time she brings herself to make a noise, Eli has already left, and it’s probably for the best. It’s too crazy to be true. Maybe he’s a tinfoil hat wearing type of guy, a conspiracy theorist like the Zip guy who leaves a newsletter in every damn corner of the county, screaming about chemtrails and baby farms.

She fills her stomach, deciding to leave that as it is, finally returning to her trailer late that night. A restless night of sleep with images of wolves and deer creeping around through her brain, nothing concrete enough to latch onto, but enough to unsettle.

A boring morning leads into a boring afternoon, time blurring before the sun has set and Dahlia’s finding herself pulling up to The Spread Eagle to catch her coworkers after their shift. She’s popped enough pain killers that the throb of music and noise is welcomed instead of irritating. A smile already gracing her lips when she catches Pratt and Hudson shooting the shit in the bar’s lowlight. As she sneaks up closer to them, their conversation starts to be audible over the tunes playing through the bar.

“I bet you break before then,” Hudson says, a teasing grin directed at Pratt.

“Hey, it’s only six months.”

“Please, you’re weak and you know it.”

“How much you wanna bet?”

Dahlia strikes, throwing her arms over Pratt’s shoulders, effectively hugging him from behind and leaning her weight into him. He’s warm and Dahlia can’t fight the impulse to squeeze him a little tighter. She breathes in the faint smell of coffee and cologne that still cling to him; comforting after so much time spent around him.

“Jesus fuck, when’d you get here?” Pratt blusters and at this close of a range Dahlia can see his cheeks pinkening under the scruff of his beard. Does this bother him?

“Right now.”

“You decided to come hang out again?” Hudson asks, grinning at the flustered Pratt.

“Mmhmm,” Dahlia hums into Pratt’s shoulder, pressing her face into him, “bored.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles and reaches back to swat at her hip.

“Ugh, buzzkill,” she bitches as she detaches from Pratt and climbs onto a bar stool, “so what the hell are you guys making bets about?”

Pratt coughs, trying to dislodge something from his throat, and Hudson laughs, “yeah, Pratt why don’t you tell her about our bet?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rook.”

“We still need to set an amount.”

“Fifty,” Pratt suggests and Dahlia wants to know even more what the hell they’re making bets about.

“Mmm, hundred.”

“Fine, if you’re comfortable losing that much.”

“Anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s gonna drive me crazy now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and orders food, stuffing her face as she listens to her coworkers fill her in on anything of interest she’s missed during her off time. It’s not much, as usual, the workload in Hope County is pretty low stakes. Hunting violations, speeding tickets, and the like. Seems like her assault is about the most interesting case in a while. Dahlia’s tempted to ask if they know anything about wolf attacks but bites her tongue before she does. Hope County is filled with wildlife, wolf attacks have no doubt occurred to some degree and if she mentions the idea of trained cult wolves, they might start to think she’s buying into the conspiracy shit.

“Stop,” Pratt says suddenly, putting hand on Dahlia’s knee, “you’re shaking the whole damn bar.”

Her leg she realizes has been bouncing the whole time, the hike helped, workouts help, but she’s still breaming with pent up energy. There’s a rustle of movement and Dahlia is drawn to the open floor near the jukebox, she’s seen a few people dance here and there, a couple now and again swaying to softer tunes while she’s been here. But, it’s more crowded tonight, people laughing and dancing together.

“People are dancing,” she states the obvious.

“It’s ladies’ night, women drink free, so everyone’s extra, uh, energetic tonight,” Hudson tells her.

An upbeat song starts and Dahlia’s up in the next breath, she needs to move, burn off excess energy. And while her favorite club in Lake Charles isn’t exactly available to her anymore, she’ll jump at the chance to lose herself in a song.

You should be wilder, you're no fun at all.

Dahlia’s singing along as she sways and shifts through the crowd, body moving instinctually to the beat. There’s a woman about Dahlia’s age, long blonde hair and brown eyes, dancing as well and the deputy finds herself gravitating towards her.

Yeah, thanks for the input.

Thanks for the call.

She asks low into the woman’s ear, so she can be heard over the music, if she can dance with her. The response is a smile, lighting up the girl’s face, a nod of her head and then she’s pulling Dahlia in by the hips.

With dull knives and white hands

The blood of a stone

Cold to the touch, right

Right down to the bone

And then she loses herself in it. In the music that fills the bar, the feeling of a stranger touching her, the slide of her feet as she moves,  the way hips knock together, the scratch in her throat as she sings lyrics in the woman’s ear, their grins as they laugh and bump noses together. It’s fun and it’s silly, a reason to move and forget life for a moment.

Cause you give me the electric twist and it kicks and it kicks like a pony.

And true, you might run away with it, it's a risk it's a risk yeah.

Because it kicks yeah.

It really kicks yeah.

Dahlia spins the woman with a laugh, before pulling the woman close against her again, wide smiles and bright eyes as their foreheads touch. There’s sweat sticking to their skin as the song winds down. Panted breaths ghosting over each other’s faces as they come down from exertion.

And the touch of your lips it's a shock not a kiss

It's electric twist, it's electric twist

“How much I gotta pay to see you kiss?!” A loud voice booms out, making Dahlia and her dance partner of the night separate. There’s a man, couldn’t be older than his mid twenties, sitting at the bar with his legs sprawled open drinking a beer at the table between the bar and the dance area. His eyes linger and look over both women’s bodies

“Can I help you?” Dahlia asks and furrows her brows, glowering at the man as she draws closer.

“Oh just enjoying the show, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart and I’m not a damn show.”

“Pfff, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he turns back to his table and rolls his eyes, as if Dahlia’s the problem, “fucking dykes.”

The junior deputy grits her teeth and she sees from her peripheral the woman rubbing the back of her neck, letting her bangs fall into her face looking like she’d rather disappear.

“The fuck did you call us?” She can’t stop herself from speaking, barely managing to reign her anger in enough not do something worse.

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Pratt’s voice cuts through as the man starts to turn to retort, the warmth of her coworker’s hand wraps around the clenched fist she didn’t realize she had raised.

“Is something wrong?” Mary May calls out, starting to walk out from behind the bar.

“Everything’s fine,” Pratt responds before Dahlia can say anything and when she starts to speak, he looks at her to whisper, “you’re barely three weeks into your job, you really wanna be getting into bar fights?”

“He ca-”

“I heard what he said, Rook, but it ain’t worth your job.”

“You’re right,” she gnaws on her lip and looks down on the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it, I just don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

“I need some fresh air.”

Dahlia leaves The Spread Eagle, noticing the woman she danced with has already vanished, unwilling to deal with the bullshit. A cool breezes ghosts over her sweaty skin as she sits down on the porch steps at the front of the bar; running her hands through her hair as she fights to ease her nerves. She digs a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket

There’s a crush of footsteps as she lights one, bringing it to her lips, shiny black leather boots entering her vision.

“Dep-yoo-tee.”

“You Seeds can just smell when I’m sad, can’t you?” She teases looking up to see John, the neon bar sign setting his face aglow in the night as he chuckles at her.

“Not my intention, but if you’re in need of a talk, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You weren’t coming out here to harass Mary May again, were you?”

“Deputy,” he puts his hand to his chest cartoonishly dramatic in his hurt, “h-harassment? That’s ridiculous. am I not allowed to visit with Ms. Fairgrave and just discuss our difference of opinions.”

His voice is ramping up in pitch as he defends himself and Dahlia can’t help but smile, appreciating the distraction from her own troubles.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mary May would have a different of opinion about that one. We still gotta talk about members stealing booze.”

“Our members would do no such thing; and I assure you, if there’s any harassment here, we’re the victims. We’ve been insulted, had our sermons interrupted, our practices mocked, Mary May herself once showed up our church simply to cause trouble.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a two-way street, I get it. Sit, we can chat for a bit,” she pats the section of porch step beside her and reluctantly after a beat of silence, he sits down, “so, Mary May caused trouble for you guys?”

“Yes, yes, she has and she’s not the only one; the people of this county have persecuted me and my family since we’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, no one should mistreat you that way,” she looks him in the eye as she speaks, “and if it ever happens again, I want you to call down to the station, ask for me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to know you’re on our side.”

“Ah, ah, I’m on everyone’s side. Mary May is owed the same respect as you and your family; and if you cause issues for her, I won’t hesitate to intervene for her sake as well. I’m here to keep everyone safe. Got to treat everyone like you wanna be treated, the whole spiel.”

“I know you’re not preaching biblical principles to me, dep-yoo-tee.”

“Not biblical, just a little maturity.”

“Are you implying I’m immature.“

“You’re a grown man spatting with a woman ten or more years younger than you; throwing a tantrum and pointing fingers when you’re told to behave.”

“First of all, I’m not that old,” Dahlia raises an eyebrow at him, “don’t look at me like that, I’m 32. Secondly, I am not a child. Mary May has-“

“And if she does something again, now that I’m here, let me know and I will help. But her actions don’t justify yours.”

“Fine, I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.”

“I mean it’s less a promise and more so doing my job, but alright.”

She breathes out a plume of smoke, making sure to aim away from John’s face, his blue eyes track the movement and the nicotine fumes that escape into the air. An ex-smoker, she deems as she watches him staring at her lips and the cigarette between her fingers.

“You want a smoke?” She asks, offering her pack of cigarettes.

“Smoking is forbidden in Eden’s Gate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tattooed fingers pick out a cigarette and she lights it for him with a grin, watching him take a deep inhale and blowing out the smoke that fills his lungs. The soft rise of his chest and the gray clouds that billow out from parted lips. She notices for the first time the freckles on his neck and chest, shirt unbuttoned low enough to expose them. There’s thin fresh scratches along his hands and forearms, too superficial and fresh to match the deeper worn in scars, they look like cat scratches. And yeah, he seems like a cat guy.

“So, now that you’ve berated and tempted me, deputy,” he speaks after an exhale of smoke, “why were you out here pouting?”

“BREH!” She plops her back down on the porch with a vague animal long groan and throws her arms over her eyes, cigarette still between two fingers, must he remind of her own issues.

“Well that certainly wasn’t immature or dramatic.”

And she laughs, because he’s right, she can preach maturity all she wants to him. But, she’s still a brat herself. She’d justify herself with their massive age difference, because no way he’s thirty-two, but that feels flimsy at best. They’re both just two temper tantrum throwing children, hell they’re even both fibbing about their ages. Though, she suspects his own much more severe than the few months she adds to her own.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know,” he lays back on the porch, matching her position, “I take the confessions for our church, if there’s anything you need to get off your chest, I’m the man to talk to.”

“Not much to say; guy called me a slur, I nearly throttled him.”

“Someone else’s actions don’t justify your own,” he parrots her words back to her.

“Yeah, someday I’ll follow my own advice.”

“Has that happened before?”

The gears in her brain churn, she’s been called many a thing, but her sexuality has been one of the less insulted facets of who she is.

Her stepfather, as religious as he was, was adamant on his hatred of gay people. But her own disinterest in exploring her sexuality or romance saved her from his scorn in that area, his focus more on the other various things he found deplorable about her.

Her mother’s side is Ashkenazi Jewish, and Dahlia remembers the few people of her stepfather’s church who despite her mother converting were disgusted their preacher would marry a Jewish woman. A handful leaving the church, a few sticking by just to call Dahlia and her mother slurs when their backs were turned.

The nightclub she favored in Louisiana was considered a gay bar, though not exclusive to LGBT folks. Women dancing with women, men dancing with men, men and women dancing; and a healthy amount of people who didn’t quite fit either label. Only one-night sticks out, a car speeding past the line outside the bar just to scream a slur out the window.  

Maybe what bothered her most was the boldness. This wasn’t someone whispering when they thought Dahlia couldn’t hear, and this wasn’t a man just screaming out at the public as he speeds away. Just a man emboldened and willing to hurt her in front of a bar filled with people.

“We’re blocking the door.”Everything else died on her lips; unable to spill her guts.

“And we weren’t while you were lecturing me?”

Her phone buzzes in her jacket as she brings her cigarette back into her mouth, unwilling to justify her evasiveness to a man she barely knows, she answers a number she doesn’t know at all.

“Hello?” She says around her smoke.

“H-hello, is this a deputy?” A soft broken voice, she remembers from the diner,  asks her and Dahlia sits up, tension pricking at the back of her neck.

“That’s me, Cassie?”

“You remember me…”

“What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I…” a beat of silence and a choked sob comes next, “no, I’m sorry, I’m, I’m not okay, I-“

“Where are you?” Dahlia’s on her feet, heartbeat in her throat as she waves off John’s furrowed brows and concern, running to her bike.

“I’m at the diner. I didn’t know where else to go…”

“I’m headed your way now, Cassie, are you safe?”

“I…I don’t know…I…”

Her voice breaks out into sobs again as Dahlia starts her engine, slams on her helmet, and switches her phone to the speaker in her helmet. The girl’s cries echoing around her as her wheels kick gravel across the parking lot, speeding out of Falls End.

[thiswasinevitableid]

#7 OT4, NSFW if you please :) Love your work by the way! It’s helped a lot in these times

Thank you! Sidenote: getting a LOT of OT4 requests this time (not a complaint, but clearly y’all a yearning for some lately).

“Still can’t believe you talked me into this.”

 “I didn’t talk you into anything, Duck. I asked if you wanted to see what I’d been talking about. And if you want to head back to apartment and risk missing  potentially undiscovered species, you’re free to do so.” Joe descends the last of the craggy rocks on the shore, stopping on a large, flat expanse of stone dotted with tide pools.

 Duck slides down, stopping beside his...boyfriend? He and Joe have been hovering somewhere between boyfriends and friends with benefits for months now. Joe is droll and smart and so handsome it doesn’t seem fair, has a nice dick and always asks Duck genuine questions about work, has a pathological fear of failure and yet can still be coaxed away from his studies to play FFVII. 

 Duck kissed him impulsively at a party last fall, ended up on top of him in his cramped apartment, and woke up to him cuddled in his arms, dark hair messy and smile soft when he noticed who was holding him. 

 They’d been friends since Freshman year, Joe a reserved forensics major and Duck a Wildlife Biology major who was a little jolted thanks to his move from a tiny town in West Virginia to Santa Cruz. Somehow, this seemed like the natural progression. And honestly, what more could Duck want than someone to talk to about trees or video games or to listen to babble about cryptids who would also eagerly take a break to go down on him (Joe’s love of his body borders on worship)?

 The interest in cryptids is why they’re currently on this deserted stretch of coast. Joe insists that ever since he found the spot (he wanted a quiet place to eat by the waves) pieces of his lunch go missing.

 “Usually candy or dessert or what have you. Whatever it was did take half an order of bao once.”

Tonight, Joe is hell bent on proving to Duck that something really is there. It’s not that Duck disbelieves him; Joe may be obsessed with the unexplained, but he’s skeptical enough to not fall for just anything that seems weird. But he can think of several other explanations for what’s happening. 

 Joe pulls a caramel apple from the paper bag he carried down, and sets it on a rock, one just out of reach of most waves. 

 “Right, now we turn around.” He steps next to Duck, turning him away from the waves.

 “Joe, you’re not supposed to turn your back on the ocean. Real dangerous.”

 “I know. I’m not a complete city slicker, Duck. But whatever it is only pops up when my back is turned.”

 “We get swept away by a wave, I’m gonna say I told you-”

 Splash

 They whirl, find the apple gone. 

 “See?” 

 “I see it’s gone. And I’ll admit I didn’t hear no birds dive down for it, which was gonna be my main guess.”

 “I know, and I also eliminated seals as a cause. I never see any heads popping up while I’m here.”

 “Huh.” Duck scans the waves, wishing their spot wasn’t enclosed on both sides by high rocks. Something could be hiding just out of sight. 

 “Right?”

 “Okay, maybe there is somethin’ weird. But we gotta find a way to figure it out that don’t involve unintentionally feedin the wildlife.”

 Joe chuckles, “And you say I’m a goody-two shoes.”

 “You are.”

 “Which one of us stayed up all night two days ago studying?”

 “I wanted to pass! Which, I did, we got the scores today.”

 “We should celebrate.” Joe shoots him a playful smirk.

 “Oh yeah?” He drawls, looping an arm around the taller man’s waist (the invitation Joe needs to cuddle closer, something he still shy to do in spite of how often they fuck), “how about we start right now?’

 “Here?” Joe looks around, and he can see his blue eyes calculating just how messy and hazardous it could be. Then he glances at Duck, smile tugging at his mouth.

“Alright, country boy, how do you want me?”

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

 Barclay floats just around the corner from the rock, savoring each bite of the new gift. It’s sticky and sweet and crunchy all at once at he loves it. 

 “What did he leave you this time?”

 “Gah! Indrid how are you so quiet all the time?”

Red eyes framed by silvery hair regard him, amused, “We are not all built for strength and power, Barclay. Some of us must rely on speed and stealth to survive.”

 “...Yeah, fair.  Here, try this.” He holds out the apple, Indrid taking a large chunk of it with his sharp teeth. 

 “Ooooh! What is it?”

 “Not sure.”

 “You could ask him.”

 “Indrid, I’m not gonna just swim up to a human and-”

 “I told you, I foresee introducing yourself to this human going well.”

 “You know Mama’s saying; better safe than sorry.”

 (Mama is one of the only humans in this patch of coast that the mers trust).

 “Besides, he brought another one with him.”

 “Really?” Indrid swims past him, peering around the rock. Barclay looks carefully over his shoulder. 

 The humans are on the ground, the new one on his back, legs bare and spread wide, mouth open with curse words that can be lipread even from where they’re swimming. 

 “My, no wonder you’ve become so interested.” Indrid purrs. 

 “Uh, that’s, that’s the other one. That one is Joe.” He points to the handsome face that’s looking up as it nips playfully at the other man’s thigh before returning to...whatever he’s doing between his legs. 

 “He’s quite charming as well.” Indrid licks his lips, gaze drifting back to the other human, “I always assumed humans preferred to do such things in houses.”

 “Me too. Uh, we should probably give them space. Right?”

 “Indeed.” A long, green tail circles his own, “in fact, they’re giving me some ideas on how we could spend our time while we do.”

 Barclay swallows, heat coursing in his stomach, “we, uh, we shouldn’t let this go to waste though.” He holds out the remainder of the apple. 

 Indrid opens his mouth a little too wide for comfort and bites it down. 

 “Always so hospitable to visitors.” He grins.

“Indrid, we live in the same cove.”

 “I know. I am attempting to flirt.” A tilt of the head, “Is it working?”

 “Uh huh.”

 “Good. Come along, my dear, I know a spot that will suit us well as we, ah, do as the humans do.”

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

 Joe really is rubbing off on him. That has to be the reason he’s here, near dusk, with a pack of skittles, two kinds of M&Ms, and BlowPop, laying candy on several rocks in hopes of coaxing their mystery creature out. 

 The sun hits the water just right, giving him a rare glimpse down into the clear portions, the stray kelp and darting fish.

 The very long, horizontal kelp. That seems to be moving in a circle, just out of view. No, wait, it’s definitely swimming, which means it’s either the largest fucking eel ever recorded or…

 A face comes into view. 

 He sits up, startled. Looks down to find the face peering up at him, expectantly. 

Cautiously, he holds out the packet of skittles. The mermaid? Merman? Merperson? Takes them, sniffing the package inquisitively. Then it rips the pack open, dumps the entire contents into it’s mouth in one go, and chews while Duck watches with a mixture of revulsion and interest. 

 “Thank you.” The mer hands the empty package back, “those are delicious. Do you have more?”

 “Uh, yeah? Guessin you’re who’s been takin’ Joe’s lunch?”

 “No. A friend of mine has. But I share his curiosity for human food, and it’s purveyors. I knew you would be coming down tonight on your own, and wished to meet you. I am Indrid” He gives what must be a bow, head dipping towards the water. 

 “I’m, uh, Duck. Why, uh, why did you want to meet me?” 

 “You seem potentially interesting and you are very attractive.”

 Duck tries not to blush, “Thanks. Um. Would you be okay if I asked Joe to come down here? I mean, I’m havin a minor existential crisis over your existence. But he’ll be so fuckin stoked to see you. Guy just loves bein’ right.”

 Approximately fifteen minutes later, Joe stands next to him, staring at Indrid, who is lazily floating on his back, deep green tail just visible in the nearby lights from town.

“I was right! HA!”

“See?”

“Yes, and this is more or less the reaction I foresaw you having. Joseph, would you like me to introduce you to the mer who has been joining you during your meals?”

“Absolutely.” Joe is still grinning with excitement as Indrid disappears into the darkening waves. When he reemerges, one hand is still under water, still trying to pull something up.

“Barclay is a bit shy. He got photographed a few too many times.”

“We can set our phones somewhere if that would help.”

“No need.” Indrid grins reassuringly as another head pokes out of the water. Barclay has dark hair and a beard, and regards them both warily.

“Uh. Thanks for letting me have some of your food.”

“You’re welcome.” Joe kneels down, holds out his hand, “it’s nice to actually meet you.”

“You too.” A large, wet hand reaches out and takes Joe’s, shaking it a bit awkwardly. Duck sits down next to hi,

“Would, um, would it be alright if I asked you some questions? I promise I won’t tell anyone about you two, but I am dying to talk to a real cryptid.”

“Sure.” Barclay shrugs, smiling shyly.

“I can go-GAH!” Duck jumps when he turns to find Indrid mostly out of the water, laying on his belly as he looks through the candy.

“We can be out of water for short periods of time.” He says mildly, ripping open a bag of M&Ms and downing half before holding the bag out to Duck.

“That’s, uh, okay. I like the peanut ones better. Good hiking snack.”

“Hiking?” Indrid asks through a mouthful of chocolate.

“It’s where you go out and walk in the woods.”

“Is that pleasant?”

“I like it.”

“That’s putting it mildly; he hikes almost every day.” Joe says with a smile, looking up from where Barclay has been letting him see his gills.

“May I hear more about it?” Indrid rests his chin on his hands, watching Duck with excited fascination. It’s…kind of flattering actually.

He smiles back, “Sure thing.”

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

“So, you just float there and watch movies through her back door?”

“Yep.” Barclay mumbles into the rock. He and Joseph are in their usual spot, the merman sunning himself on the rock as they chat. Joseph remains fascinated by the apparently variety in merfolk phenotypes; while Indrid’s lower half is distinctly eel-like, Barclay’s is much closer to that of a harbor seal in texture and color.

The texture feels wonderful under Joseph’s hands. The first time had been an accident; he’d been reaching for a bag of cotton candy, wobbled, and balanced on the merman, causing his hand to glide along his tail. Barclay gave a rumbly sigh, and asked if he would do it again.

So he does, petting along his tail and up to his chest. He actually has body hair, dark brown like his beard, under which two half-moon scars are just visible. Joseph doesn’t ask about them; he knows what they are from Duck, and he knows that it is Barclay’s choice to share, and only if he wants to.

“Alright, my turn.” Barclay rolls over, rests his hands behind his head, “why do humans go to the trouble of cooking fish when you can eat it raw?”

Joseph thinks, petting the upper part of the tail and enjoying the little sigh as he does, “Cultural and personal preference, I think. Some people love sushi, others think it’s gross, things like that. Um” he stops petting, “Barclay? Is something wrong?”

The merman blinks happily up at him, then registers the question and is off the rock and into the water in a matter of seconds.

“Uh, I, I gotta go, sorry, see you tomorrow bye!”

Joseph sits for a moment, hoping he’ll resurface. A seagull lands nearby and as he looks at all he can say is, “what the hell was that?”

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

“What the hell is that!”

“The largest hermit crab in the cove” Indrid beams, “I told you I would show you impressive wildlife.”

“I didn’t know they could get that big.”

“He is very determined. Off you go now.”

Duck snickers as he watches Indrid shoo the crab away as if it were a cat on keyboard. They’ve been meeting regularly, sometimes just the two of them, sometimes all four, sometimes a mixture of three. When he and Indrid meet, they often end up swapping stories of their exploration; Duck of his beloved forest and Indrid of his various expeditions out to warn other mer-communities of danger (his future vision explains why he tends to a laugh a little sooner than makes sense.”

“Duck, may I ask you an odd question?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you and Joseph, ah, ‘together?’”

“Kinda.” He tosses a pebble into the water, “we’re basically boyfriend’s in all but name at this point.”

“Which means you only see each other?” Indrid sounds apprehensive.

“Not automatically. He and I ain’t talked about bein’ exclusive. Guess we should. I know it wouldn’t bother me if he wanted to see other guys. Got a sense he feels the same way. I dunno, I figure just cause he might like someone else and me at the same time don’t mean he don’t care about me any less, you know?”

“Indeed I do.” Indrid’s smile turns wistful.

“Ain’t you and Barclay datin’?”

“Not formally. But we’ve been friends for years, lovers when we were younger and occasionally lovers now, with a period in between where we did not have an interest in such a thing. Well” he claps his hands together, “this has been enlightening. I shall see you soon.”

He’s gone before Duck even has a chance to ask how you ask a merman out.

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

It’s excruciatingly hot, and Duck is just grateful Indrid and Barclay’s secret hiding spot has shade. It’s a small patch of beach, half inside a cave in the rocks, with enough sea trickling in for the merman to move in and out of water as needed, but not so much that he and Joe will drown if they’re there during high tide.  It’s the perfect summer hideaway.

Right now, it’s the perfect spot for Duck to feed a half-melted pint of ice-cream to a very appreciative merman. They’re both on their stomachs, Indrid’s tail dragging lazily in the water, and Duck is loving every minute of watching Indrid lick rocky-road off a spoon.

Joe sits next to Duck, Barclays head in his lap (and Barclay’s tail regularly brushing along Indrid’s). He’s feeding Barclay candy from the gourmet sweet shop in town. They’d stopped there right before they hit up the Seaside SweetShack so Duck could buy two pounds of candy for about the same price Joe got the one small box.

“What can I say, Barclay has an amazing, sophisticated palate.”

He sneaks a glance at Joe; he looks so happy, sending a pang of affection through Duck’s chest. And distracting him from the tongue that glides out over his fingers.

“How about a swim?” Indrid nips his thumb before gliding back into the water, Duck following him until he’s up to his chest, the merman swimming gracefully around him. The end of his tail slides up Duck’s thigh and he shudders. The tail repeats the motion, then presses up and drags back and forth.

Duck moans, legs threatening to give as the tail continues teasing. But Indrid is there, cradling him close, even as his tail builds up to a relentless pace.

“Is this alright, my sweet?”

“Y-yeah, fuck, ‘Drid, it feels so good.”

“I have confirmed with Barclay that he is alright with a more, ah, expanded relationship.”

“J-joe and I did too. Decided we were, fuck, boyfriends at the same time, oh fuck ‘Drid please don’t stop.’

“I am afraid I must, or you will cum too quickly and be too tired for what I have planned.”

“N-no, no please ‘Drid, I got great stamina.” He grinds faster, hints of ridges rubbing along his trunks, desperate to cum from Indrid’s creative approach.

“I do not doubt it.” Indrid kisses him, laughing when the gesture makes him work his hips all the harder, “but it is not merely stamina that is the concern.” He withdraws his tail and Duck whines. Indrid gently guides his face so that he’s looking down.

“Holy shit. You got two dicks?”

“Yes. I am aware this is not something humans have. Is, ah, is that an issue?” For the first time, he looks nervous, and Duck reaches out to brush a strand of silvery hair behind his ear.

“Not at all, sugar.”

“Oh good. Because while I can think of some delicious uses for them that involve all four of us, right now I dearly wish to shove both inside you and make you feel exquisite.”

Duck drags his finger up one side of the ‘V’ and down the other, “Bring it on.”

Back on the shore, Josephs cock is trying it’s best to rip through his trunks at the sight of his boyfriend moaning in the embrace of one of two mermen (god his life has gotten weird) he himself would gladly submit to.

“We can join them if you want.” Barclay rumbles, turning over in his lap to nuzzle his cock as he narrowly avoids being hit by Duck’s flying swimtrunks.

“Yes, yes I want. But, um, first” he cups Barclay’s face in both hands, encouraging him to sit up, “kiss me?”

Saltwater and sugar coat his lips as Barclay lunges forward, pulling him into his arms as he practically feasts on his mouth.

“Oh good lord, again, pleaseMMohhh” a full on growl this time, teeth dragging down his neck before sucking a hickey into it, “seems you’ve got a rough side, huh big guy?”

Barclay moans at the pet name, nodding, “I, I love being sweet to you babe, but goddamn does being around you make me wanna do some real wild things. Is, does, I won’t if it you don’t want me to.” His face goes from wolfish to puppy dog in the blink of an eye.

“I very much want you to. I trust you, Barclay. If I’m honest, I feel safer with you than almost anyone else in the world.”

A gentler kiss this time, though no less eager, then, “There’s one other thing. My, uh, my set-up is a little different than Indrid’s” He adjusts so Joseph can see. It’s the same spot he saw starting to open that day on the rocks, where Barclay left in a hurry. Two tendrils appear towards the top, and when Joseph touches one it curls around his finger, stroking it.

“God your body is amazing.”

“Because it’s different?” Barclay asks hesitantly.

“Because it’s yours and you are one of the most incredible men in or out of the water.” Joseph clambers on top of him, slipping two fingers into the slit, Barclay moaning and writhing as he works them in and out rapidly. The tendrils harden the more he plays with them between his fingers, Barclay tightening around him as they do.

“Yeah, fuck yeah babe, like that” Barclay pulls him close, sharp nails stinging his back, “like that, play with ‘em like that, good, so fucking good, holy sh-“ He cums, arching off the ground.

“That’s it big guy, good lord you OW, ow, jesus.” Joseph pulls his hand back, fingers red from where the tendrils squeezed them.

“Sorry, technically it’s a mating thing.” Barclay pants.

“Fascinatin—Hey, come back.” He laughs as Barclay darts into the water, leading him to where Indrid is curled behind Duck, the human letting out a series of slow, soft moans.

“That was quite a show” Indrid purrs, beckoning each of them over for a kiss.

“I’ll say, fuck, oh fuck ‘Drid is that all of it?”

“That is half of them.”

Duck groans in delight, head flopping onto Josephs shoulder. He kisses his forehead, then tilts his chin up to kiss along his jawline, adoring every angle and curve of it as much as he did the first time.

“Joseph, if you turn around and Duck braces on you, it may help.”

“Sure, oh” he chuckles as Barclay surfaces before him once he turns, “fancy seeing you here.”

“Forgot, fuck, forgot to warn y’all, his sense of humor stays even when fucking.”

“Perfect.” Barclay kisses him, works his trunks down and off as Duck’s fingers grip his shoulders.

“Can, uh, can I jack you off, babe?”

“I don’t know, can youOOoh” He moans when Duck bites his upper arm.

“You weren’t kidding.” This Barclay directs at Duck. Then he wraps one strong hand around Joseph’s cock, and all his nerves light up in tandem. He let’s himself let go, enjoy the feeling of Barclay’s strokes, his kisses up and down his neck, the needy, strained noises Duck makes in his ear as Indrid works his way in.

“At last.” Indrid’s words are all the warning he gets before Duck jerks violently behind him.

“FUCK!”

“Oh dear, should I-“

“No, no don’t you dare fuckin stop, god I ain’t ever felt anything like that, want you to fuck me until you’re good and done.”

“Good boy.”

Both he and Duck moan.

“Oh I see, you both like that. I shall keep that in mind. Now, be a good boy for me and take this.”

“Fuckfuck, oh fuck me.” Duck is clinging to him now, sending up waves around them both as Indrid fucks him.

“God, babe, you look so fucking good like this. Like you were fucking made for me.”

“Ohhhhlord, yes.”

“Heh, you’re always so put together, even on the beach, but a little dirty talk and you AH, ahshit, Indrid.” Barclay crowds him even as his strokes pick up, and Joseph feels why; Indrid’s tail has snuck between them.

“My dear, what is the point of me having this odd, long form if not to pleasure you with my tail until you scream?”

“That does, does seem worth exploring.” Joseph pants.

“Kinky fucker.” Duck bites his ear, then clings around his waist, “fuck, oh fuck, ‘Drid, Joe, darlin’ oh fuckin’ Christ.” There’s a groan he recognizes as Duck cumming, followed by a growling howl as Barclay kicks up more water, strokes growing erratic and fumbly.

“C’mon babe, come for me” He sounds so eager to please and so in command that Joseph is undone, spurting into the water with a cry. Barclay kisses him, soft praise interspersed with pecks on the cheek and lips.

Duck is still moaning, jolting against Joseph as Indrid fucks him hungrily.

“That’s it my sweet, just a little more, you are so good, so very good taking all of me and my cum too, such a good little human, oh, oh Duck.” There’s a trill and then the splashing behind him ceases, Duck whispering Indrid’s name. In place of the jealousy he feared, Joseph just feels happy; Duck has found someone else who seems to adore him as much as Joseph does.

They make it back to shore in a graceless swim/wade/flop combination, Joseph pulling out the towels they brough so he and Duck won’t get sand in horrible places. Soon he’s resting with his head on Duck’s chest, Barclay nestled behind him and Indrid behind Duck, tail making passes to pet them each now and then (both mermen are just enough in the water to avoid issues).

“Uh, when, when are you gonna visit again?” Barclay murmurs, a little sleepy.

Joseph looks at Duck, who returns his conspiratorial grin, “Tomorrow, of course. After all, we’ve got way more sweet things for you to try.”

[thefightingbull]

Hi! For the Jason Todd Christmas prompt, I'd like to request Omega verse, Jason Todd/Joey Willson. With pregnant Jay being all soft and cuddly on Christmas morning. Thank you!

The morning light was peaking through the blinds of their bedroom window. He would have stretched and probably even yawned, but his mate was nestled against him. He peeked down at the omega and smiled, enjoying the fact that despite how strong and powerful Jason was, the young man was trusting him entirely to keep their small pack safe.

Joseph “Joey” Wilson had never been so in love with someone in his life. The way Jason had taken blow after blow, both physically and psychologically through out the course of his existence was inspiring. He was pretty sure he’d fallen in love with the unusually muscular and broad shoulders omega the moment he’d taken the time to learn about him.

He and his father didn’t always get along, but when it came to Jason, they both agreed. He would be everything Joey could hope for in a lover, friend, mate, and mother to his pups. With a soft smile pressed his lips Jason’s forehead. The younger man had his head resting on Joey’s chest as he slept peacefully.

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Jason grumbled before giving in to a long, heavy yawn.

He chuckled softly and nuzzled his mate, running his fingers through the man’s thick black and white curls. Really, he should scent or groom him, but they were both quite comfortable in their positions and Joey really wanted to just spend the early morning hours contemplating how happy they were going to be.

Jason took the choice to lay in bed away from him when he finally pulled himself up to a sitting position. He started cracking knuckles or stretching limbs as he let out a satisfying groan that ended in a playful noise that had Joey’s inner beast rising.

“It’s Christmas morning,” Jason grinned at him, his pretty teal eyes sparkling happily. “That means you finally get to open the gift I got you!”

More out of habit than necessity, Joseph signed as he spoke. “I told you not to get my anything! We agreed.”

Jason rolled his eyes and smirked. “I never agreed to anything of the sort. I agreed that you shouldn’t get me a gift because our pups would be enough.”

Of course, Jason would figure out how to twist their conversations to work in his favor. It was alright though because he’d bought Jason a gift anyhow. It was their first Christmas together. Well, the first where there wasn’t violence or bloodshed. The first where family and friends weren’t going to interfere or cause problems. The first where they were finally settled and happily closed off from the rest of the world.

Jason being pregnant made their home off limits without invitation. Even control freaks like their fathers, or nosy brats like their siblings, knew better than to enter an omega’s den uninvited when a litter was expected. Just in case they weren’t smart enough to know that, he and Jason had done everything they could to build up their defenses and to make it clear to any and all who passed by their small condo that there was a pregnant omega within.

He watched as his mate wrapped himself up in his favorite blanket off their nest/bed. “Let’s go, I want to sit by the fireplace and relax in the nest I made in the living room.”

“So, demanding,” Joey grinned, but didn’t argue.

He followed after his mate, keeping a close eye on the way he moved. Not just because he loved Jason’s body, but because the paranoia his father had warned him about was starting to settle in. The man had insisted that things like Jason moving about the apartment would put him in a state of concern, possibly even panic. That Joey would fear him being hurt in the kitchen or slipping in the bathroom.

It was kind of nice that he’d been warned about it. Jason was touchy enough as it was. He didn’t like being vulnerable let alone feeling like it. If Joey had reacted on instinct alone, he might have angered and upset Jason. Doing so might have frightened Jason into hiding in either his own den or hiding with his older brother until the pups were born.

Jason sat carefully in the large nest of blankets, pillows, and even some of their clothes or coats. He’d arranged it on Thanksgiving Day; the same day they’d put up a Christmas tree and decorated it. Of all the things Joey had expected of his headstrong, cynical mate, being a big fan of Christmas and its traditions had not been one of them.

Joey moved to sit beside him but thought better of it as he his eyes moved to the kitchen. “What can I get you to eat? What are our pups in the mood for?”

Jason started to stand, but Joey narrowed his eyes and released soft, warning growl. “Oh, fine! I’ll let you ‘provide’ for me!” He sounded angry, but he saw the relief in Jason’s eyes. Mornings were still touchy for the omega when it came to moving around and getting sick.

“What would you like?” He smiled.

“Big glass of milk and peanut butter toast?” The big man in the nest asked hopefully.

Jason also hated being a burden on anyone. He was terrified that if he was too much of an issue, people would abandon him. He’d of course never said that aloud, but Joey and Dick had long conversations about it. He’d never abandon Jason, of that Joey had tried hard to prove, but his insecure mate struggled at times with such an unusual concept.

When he returned from the small kitchen with the requested breakfast, he found a very large box sitting in the nest beside Jason. It was certainly not a box that Joey had seen before. Where had his omega been hiding it?

“Thanks,” Jason smiled and took the cup and plate.

He started to pull away, when Jason grabbed hold of his arm and then leaned his head into the palm of his hand. Joey smile and sunk to his knees beside him and began to kiss Jason’s face, while letting his hands run through Jason’s hair and down his neck and shoulders. He dropped to his knees beside him and took advantage of his mate’s cuddly mood.

“I love you,” Joey whispered softly.

“I love you, too.” Jason smiled before he nipped gently at his chin. “Now please, open your gift!”

“Only if you eat,” he bargained.

Jason didn’t respond, but rather grabbed one of the pieces of toast off his plate and took a large bite. Feeling a bit better about the omega taking care of his daily needs, Joey decided to focus on the large rectangular box. He took his time opening it, mostly because it looked like Jason had taken his time wrapping it.

There was also the bonus that Jason looked impatient enough to rip it out of his hands and open it himself. He loved teasing his mate and he slowed down just to get under his skin a bit.

Finally, he’d revealed a plain cardboard box. “It’s lovely, Jason, just what I wanted!”

“Oh, shut up and open the box,” Jason snickered.

Doing as he was told, he pulled out a black, hard shell guitar case. He liked the guitar case, but he already had one. Actually, it was pretty much the same type and everything. He appreciated the thought and wondered if Jason’s feelings would be hurt that he already had one.

Catching on, Jason grinned. “It’s not the case, it’s what’s inside.”

Worried, he flipped the metal clasps and opened the case. His eyes widened in surprise at the elegant black, acoustic guitar. In silver ink was the signature of The Man in Black himself, Johnny Cash. He felt his eyes tear up at the sight.

“Jason,” he whispered and fought the emotion in his throat. “This is…”

“Everything my Alpha deserves,” Jason insisted. “I bought it for you months ago. Before we moved in and before the pregnancy.”

He gently set the bit of music memorabilia aside and pulled Jason into a long, passionate kiss. He didn’t even mind the taste of peanut butter. He wanted Jason to know how grateful he was the music icon’s bit of history. It would be proudly displayed in their den. In their home.

Jason laughed nervously as they finally parted and blushed. “I guess that means you like it?”

He nodded. “Yes, I do,” he laughed and signed. “I love it almost as much as I love you.”

Jason set aside his glass of milk and plate of toast and then crawled into his lap, his head resting comfortably into the nape of his neck and shoulder. He let the omega relax there for as long as he wanted. He leaned his back against the couch that the nest was placed against. It had been done strategically for when they watched tv or the fireplace.

“Thank you, Jason, I mean it,” he grinned.

The heat of Jason’s cheeks warmed his neck and he almost teased his omega about it. “Thank you, Joey,” Jason whispered. “You, these two pups, and this life are everything I ever wanted, even if I didn’t know it before.”

“Well, I have a gift for you, too,” he smiled. “But you have to let me go so I can grab it.”

“I don’t need a gift, just you,” Jason shook his head and tightened his hold a little.

Content as he was to stay that way, Joey insisted, and Jason finally relented. He got up and walked into their bedroom and took it out of the man sized safe he installed when they moved in. This one was his, Jason had one on the opposite side of the closet. Neither knew one another’s codes, not that either had tried to guess. They respected one another’s privacy.

He handed the long, kind of skinny box to Jason. It was a little heavy, but his mate barely noticed as he took it and began to unwrap it. His face was curious the entire time, however, the box gave away what was inside of it.

Jason grinned. “A Barret M82?”

He nodded. “It’s the best anti-material sniper rifle on the market.”

“Yeah I know! Pretty expensive, Joey!” Jason snapped, but the delight in his eyes told him that the omega was teasing and not at all offended. “We weren’t even supposed to buy gifts for each other this year.”

“I agreed that you didn’t have to get me a gift, I never agreed not to get you one,” Joey corrected.

Jason blinked and then shook his head. “Guess I’m gonna have to be a lot more careful in making deals with you in the future?”

“You should have already known that, Dear,” Joey smirked.

His mate nodded and smiled before cuddling back up against his side. He wrapped an arm around him and nuzzled close to Jason’s face. He’d never been so happy in his life and he was pretty sure that Jason felt the same way.

Warm, happy, expecting, and lost in their own little world.

[marvelmymarvel]

Moved On

Joseph Liebgott x Medic!Reader

Part 1/2

Synopsis: Joe thinks you moved on to a replacement when really, the replacement was coming onto you much to your dislike. When the replacement finally corners you in the bar, you don't know who will snap first. You... Or Joe.

Trigger warning: sexual harassment

A/N: The replacements a creep, please do not fall in love with him lol. 

The break up was hard for both of you. Yet it was necessary. He wasn't the same Joey that you loved and cared for, he was someone different. The war changed him, it changed you too, but the way he pushed you away was something you couldn't stand. In order to get through the heartbreak, you dove headfirst into work, aka saving as many men as possible. Soon, you became known as one of the best medics and with the new priority of keeping that title, you soon would forget about Joe during the day. However, the nights were always different. Crying was something that lulled you to sleep nowadays and it wasn't uncommon for Roe to find you curled up in a foxhole all alone and crying silently. He was the only one that saw you that way, he was the only one that you allowed to see you like that. Slowly but surely, Roe helped you pick yourself up, but he wasn't the only one. 

Ronny Meredith was a replacement that seemed to always get hurt which equaled to always being in your care. You never noticed that when he got hurt ‘accidentally’ he chose you out of the three medics in Easy, to you, he was just another distraction. To him though, you were his next catch. He loved you, loved you more than breathing. He had heard about your recent breakup and thought that it was the perfect time to swoop in and ‘save the day’. He didn't see the issue with that, he figured he could fix you and make you his forever. After all, he had been waiting for this moment since the first day he laid eyes on you. You were patching up someone's hand after Carentan, your h/c hair hanging in your e/c eyes, the sun was setting behind you, casting a halo above your head and making you look like an angel. His angel. Ever since then, he followed you around without your knowledge. Whenever you went to eat, whenever you were walking alone, even whenever you went to the restroom. He always hid behind the tree and watched you. 

He wanted to keep you safe. 

You, of course, had no knowledge of this and neither did Joe. You didn't know that the sweet, ‘clumsy’ replacement was stalking you, you especially didn't know about his infatuation. He was good, a little too good. He knew when he would pounce and all he was doing right now was buttering you up, like his next meal. Prepping before biting. So when the group was celebrating in the bar after a successful battle, he decided it was time. 

The boys kept sliding you drinks left and right, and for once in this god awful mess, you felt okay. You were dancing around with some of the boys and having a good time, forgetting about the man who still loves you sitting in the corner and watching you have fun. You were taking it well, or at least, that's how it seemed. After you two broke apart, he felt lost and fell deeper into depression and anger. He killed more than necessary and he cursed more than was needed. He was different without you. 

And he hated it. 

But he wasn't going to do anything, for you broke up with him for a good reason. He pushed you away, not because he fell out of love with you, but because he didn't want to lose you in this war. You were his everything, but he didn't realize that losing you as a lover would hurt all the same. So he just sat there, watching you drink and laugh the night away. He would let you be... 

You felt a hand on your waist and turned around sloppily with a big smile on your face. You thought it was Web or Roe, but it was just Ronny. You held the smile but backed up a little in embarrassment “Hi Ronny” you slurred out happily, but your smile fell when you felt him tighten his grip on your hip. “I wanna talk to you in private” Ronny whispered into your ear seductively, causing your whole body to freeze up in fear. No man had touched you like that other than Joe, and this didn't feel the same way. It didn't feel loving or protective. It felt possessive and evil like he was waiting for this moment. The moment where you were under the influence and unable to fight back or walk straight. He was waiting for this. “What” you whimpered out as you felt him push you towards a corner of the bar where no one was. He turned you and backed you up against the wall, where the top of your spine hit the wall. “I love you” he whispered sloppily as his thumbs rubbed against the tops of your hips. “I don't feel the same Ron” you stated as firmly as you could while pushing lightly at his hand. “Oh no no no sweets you must love me too” he purred while getting closer to you. You felt your breath become short as you began to panic. “No I really don't I’m sorry-”

“LISTEN, BITCH” he snapped out finally as he shoved your hips back into the wall behind you, causing you to wince in pain. “I have loved you since I SAW YOU!! I CAN TREAT YOU BETTER THAN JOE EVER DID. GIVE ME A CHANCE” he screamed into your face making you flinch back into the wall trying to put distance between you and him. He looked you over and thought how beautiful you looked in this state. So submissive, and all his-

He was ripped away from you before you could scream for help. You were shaky as you watched Ronny being thrown to the ground. You wobbled a little in your spot but were caught by David when you stumbled. The world was spinning as you heard arguments and fists colliding with skin, “I’m gonna throw up Web” you whispered out before leaning over his arm and throwing up on the ground. He sighed, falling with you as you fell to your knees, still gagging and throwing up onto the bar floor. It wasn't the alcohol that was making you sick, it was what just happened that did. When you were done, you began to sob while gripping onto his arm. The realization of what could have happened finally setting into your bones. He smoothed your hair down and shushed you sweetly, all while watching the fight that was still going on only 6 feet away. Joe really lost his shit, and it was scary. It took 5 guys to pull him off a very bloody and broken Ronny. 

He deserved it though.

“Come on honey lets get you up” Web whispered into your ear before hauling you up and onto your feet. Your whole body was shaking, and he noted in his head that you may need someone to sleep with in order to feel safe. David pulled you out, right as Joe was fully pulled away and Ronny was taken to a medic that wasn't you. His watery eyes searched for you, he needed to know you were safe. He had to know. You would be scared, you wouldn't sleep. He knew you. But what you didn't know...

Was that it was him protecting you. 

Tags:

@hell-itwasyou  @desired-love- @privatebullshit506   @whatwouldidowithoutgeorgeluz   @etainlord  @longing-for-the-past-times@themostunstableunicorn  @joonflu   @its-a-polyglot@liebthots  @liebgoth @xjustmenobodyelse @bandofbrothers-marvel-movies@higgles123@uwurunicornuwur @heartbeats-wildly @daddyspeirs0 @roger-bang-the-drum

[illyrian-of-themyscira]

A Court of Lost Things

SECOND PART

              The horse’s hooves click over the cobblestones as we make our way through the city.  People pause to wave at their prince and one woman in a tight, green dress winked with a flirty gesture and adding extra swagger.  Yet when I glanced back at Calev, he was staring straight ahead, never noticing any of the women who seem to be looking at him like some kind of delicious treat. My eyes drank in his beautiful features and in my pain-filled haze I reached up, running my fingers over his lips. As his wide eyes flick down to me with an expression I can’t understand, I suddenly realize what I’ve done. It’s like something inside me just needed…to touch him. My thumb strokes down his jaw and something sparks in me.  I quickly look away and press my hand into my lap. The same hand that I touched him with and is now tingling between my fingers. Calev lets go of the reins with one hand and braces it against my thigh.  I open my mouth to tell him to stop but then I started to sway and that hand seemed to be the only thing keeping me from tumbling off the horse.  The grand palace looms over us and the golden gates open wide, the metal groaning on its weight.  The horse stops near the stables and Calev moved, dismounting the horse. He stood before me and his hands braced my hips as he lifts me off and then shifts me into his arms.  Carrying me into the grand entrance, I tuck myself into his warm embrace. I wanted to curse at him for carrying me, for thinking I am a damsel in distress, but I said nothing because if he didn’t carry me I don’t know what I’d do. I could hardly move half of my body.  The pain climaxed through me as I tried to lift it up and everything went black.

              I drifted in and out of consciousness, hearing voices murmuring around me. I couldn’t understand one word the voices were saying, even as I tried to. Hands softly brush my hair away from my face and I sighed. It felt like a comfort and I thought it might have been my father, had I not remembered that I wasn’t anywhere near him at all. Not near my family. My home.

I blink my eyes to open and saw a shadow of a person over me. As I blinked my eyes again to see more clearly, I could see a patch of white hair and black swirls of a tattoo on the person’s neck. I closed my eyes again, too tired to keep them open. Something deep in my heart knew that Calev was different, he was something else to me.  Yet I didn’t know what.

              “I have to go, little bat. I will be back soon.  Hang in there till I come back and don’t worry, you will be safe.”  I felt a slight pressure against my head and warmth filled my body.  Calev’s lips.  When he pulled away, I heard a slight intake of breath.  “I will be back as soon as I can,” his voice sounded shocked.  Footsteps retreated and I heard the sound of the door being shut.

              I groaned as I moved to sit up but found my arms weighed down by chains.  A gasp escapes me as I look around to realize I am in a dank cell.  There were walls of brick all around me apart from the bars.  Fear creeps up to me as I call for my magic and find it flickering just out of reach.  A noise of devastation fell from my lips. Had Calev really thrown me in prison? And I just now realize that the pain I felt before is gone and that I am completely healed. I didn’t get why he would have me healed just to throw me inside of this…hellhole.  Though this wouldn’t be the end. I had my family waiting for me in some other world or reality and getting back to them was my main priority. And I know that my parents are probably trying to find ways to get me back right this very second. I tried to stand but found the chains on my hands restricted the movement.  I felt my wings rustle behind me at the movement and with a shock, I found that my magic fell away from them. They probably showed up when I was passed out.  Biting my lip, I reach deep inside where my power thundered within me, but the more I reached the farther away it slips.

              A growl rips from my chest at the inability to reach it.  In Prythian, I rival my mother and father’s powers, and being unable to reach it now made me beyond angry.  When I failed to lure my magic back to me, I look around for a weakness in the chain but to no avail.

              Feet echoed through the hall before me as a guard stops in front of my cell carrying a tray full of what I’m assuming to be food. He slides the tray towards me and starts to walk away before-

              “Wait!”  At my words the guard stops and gives me a long look.

              “What?”

              “Why am I imprisoned?”

              “That’s not for me to say,” the guard answers stiffly.

              “Come on Joseph. Surely the little creature could use an explanation,” I could hear laughter in the voice and another guard showed before the light.

              The first guard turned and gave him a look of uncertainty. “Zachariah, the king and queen-”

              “You are imprisoned due to your coming from this world called ‘Prythian’ that we have never seen or heard of before and we do not know if you are a friend or foe.  The King and Queen fear you maybe something else, like the Valg.”

              “Two things: what has the prince said about this? And what the hell is a Valg?”  I tripped over the word, ‘Valg’.

              “The prince had nothing to say because he is on a mission for a few weeks and a Valg is a demon-like creature. Absolute disgusting.” His face turned, like he smells something foul.

              “Wait, so they locked me up down here after the prince left?”

              “Well after you were well enough to be moved, but yes.”  A snarl ripped from my throat causing the guards to take a step back.  I reached out and grabbed the bread as the guards made their way back. Sniffing it to check for poison, I found none so I took a huge bite. I have to get out of these chains.  

My eyes traveled to where they were bolted to the floor.  It looked as if it had almost been melted but how could that be?  Biting my lip, I chewed on the bread thoughtfully.  If my dad were here he would probably charm the guards.  Charming things had never been my strong suit which was strange because both of my parents were good charmers. I have always seemed more like Amren, I suppose, or my aunt Nesta.  Aunt Nesta was like a viper and that’s one thing I admire about her. Tugging on the chain to test its strength, I found it to be hardened steel.  My only option was magic which I can’t use because it seems like a far away echo in my mind.  Well…I could come up with another way to approach my magic.

              For the next several hours, I try dozens of ways to get my magic to no avail.  I plunge head first; I plunge feet first; I shout; I pretend to be my father and coax it out; I whisper to it.  Nothing.  I push my hair back and a frustrated scream fell from my gritted teeth. Pulling and clawing at the chains in my anger, I do not feel the pain and the blood dripping from my fingers didn’t matter to me.  Hard stone presses into my palms as I brace my arms against the floor.  A cold seeps into my bones, one that has little to do with the moisture in the cell and more to do with the dread that is slowly taking over my mind.  My wings wrap around me, creating a comfortable cocoon of velvet black.  If I closed my eyes I could almost smell the scent of the sea, hear the roar of the ocean, feel the cool breeze on my face.  I could imagine that if I moved my wings I could dive into the waves then go back to the city to eat some ice cream and then sit with my mother at her art studio, watching her paint and laughing at the memorable stories she tells me of her past.  But I knew the moment I  move my wings away, I would still be in this dank cell with bloodied hands, a faint smell of pine which was covered up by the smell of piss and vomit.

              A thought came to me. What if I tried to slowly bring my magic to me?  So I did, inch by starry inch.  I felt night come to me as it curls around my arms then twining with the Illyrian tattoos over my chest and back.  Hour by hour, more of my magic curled around me.  Night flowed around the dark cell, stars weaved around my head.  Dancing over my wings and sliding down the claws that tip my wings.  I felt my mother’s powers start to well within me.  Not as powerful as hers but the water in the cell danced along the stars, flares of light shining in the darkness, fire joined the dance, and soon my powers were all spinning around me.

              Eyes closed, I concentrated on breaking the chains and then… The chain disappeared. I stood, my wings stretching as far as they could.  I had an impressive wingspan for a female and I was proud of that as I shook them out in the small cell.  A proud smirk pulled at my lips and I winnowed out of the cell.  Reining my powers back in, I walked up the only stairway upwards.  Ascending the mold covered stairs, I listen for any guards beyond the doors but hear none.  With another winnow I am walking through the elaborate corridors.  A group of servants’ chatter around the corner and slipping behind a pillar, I search their minds for where the throne room is.  I almost don’t find it in time but just at the last second, I find the location.  My feet make no noise as I avoid the shafts of sunlight coming from the giant windows to my right and I stick in the shadows as Uncle Azriel taught me.  Quickly and quietly, I move to the throne room.  Avoiding any guards or servants haunting the halls, I didn’t consider hiding my wings and instead choosing to show off my heritage.

              Finally, I reach the large golden doors, it depicted a mark of a stag staring at me in a wooded forest.  A hawk sits above the stag on a tree, staring at me with its hooded eyes as if debating whether or not to kill me.  Taking a deep breath and shaking out my wings, I shove the doors open and saunter into the throne room.

              Inside, I find two royals sitting upon the thrones.  A white wolf, a large leopard, and a tall male with golden hair and tan skin stood near them.  The king and queen on the throne stood as the wolf shifted into one of the most beautiful males I had ever seen. They all stood at the ready for a fight.  The queen stepped in front of all of them with a look of wrath on her face.  Before she even spoke, she launched herself at me with daggers in her hands.  I winnowed away from her and she froze, spinning with wide eyes.

              “What are you?” Her shriek filled the throne room.  As the white haired male came up behind her I realized with a start how much Calev looked like him. These were his parents.  I was surrounded now but they were no match for me.  Night started to wrap around me, readying for the attack that was to come.

              The doors burst open again and there stood Calev.  His chest heaving as if he had been running here.  Calev walked up to me, pushing past his parents to get to me.  His hand reached for my arm but I jerked away from the touch. With his back to me, he turned toward his parents.

              “What is going on here?”

              “Calev, step away from her.  She has escaped.”

              “Escaped? She wasn’t supposed to be imprisoned in the first place! I saved her because she was in trouble,” the growl in his voice and his protective stance filled the air with a haunting dread and it makes me uncomfortable. What he is insinuating was between us.

              “So you bedded the girl? Nice job, boy,” the once wolf purred at him.  Calev tensed but said nothing.  I would not be spoken of like that though.

              “Excuse me?  I am not some prize to be taken! Nor have I had any relations with this male,” I spat the word male.  “I have no idea how the hell I got here.  I don’t know any of you and I just want to go home!”  My breath came out fast and harsh now, the power I had was swirling around me now, fueled by my emotions.  Calev turns to me with a look of surprise.

              “This male? You wound me, little bat.” Calev presses his hand to his heart but I roll my eyes wanting to pluck his out.

              “I am NOT a little bat,” I snap.  His eyes flick to my wings.

              “Could’ve fooled me, little bat,” the way he enunciates the words makes me want to punch him in the face.

              “Enough,” the king says.  “What do you mean how you got here? As in how you got to Terrasen?”  I turn to the king.

              “To this world.”

 written by me First part:https://velarisoncanvas.tumblr.com/post/161524563013/a-court-of-lost-things

edited by the amazing @crazy-fangirl16

More to come!! I’ll be tagging people if they want