#not that I'm near death or anything hopefully I think

[twilightarcade]

Would you rather. Make time faster or slower?

Its a constant increase/decrease you cant change it. How much faster/slower would you go?

OH OH!!!!!!!!! WMRMRMEMM!!!!!!!!!!!!??!?!?!!!!!!!!!

OKOK UM. IT DEPENDS ON um the logistics I think. I'm not gonna ask you though so I can jsuf keep talking needlessly. Um. Okok. Logistics. You know like??????? Superhero movies. I'm specifically thinking of megamind let's not lie to ourselves you know megamind. And super whatever his face slows down time for a bit. If it's like that I don't think I'd want to do either really. Slowing down sad would make me a bit sad and speeding up time would kill me instantly (metaphorically and literally I think. Gonna get run over by a car or something) maybe If anything just slow down time.... then I can do things but everything would still be so horribly slow. I could do a lot of stuff thoucg

ermm!! If I was just slowing down like... all biological processes n stuff of the sort,,, like the earth spins slower (days longer) and people last longer (technically the same amount of time but it feels longer because years are relatively (to before) longer) and stuff, slow down time 100%. Never have enough time to do fuck all. Remaining unaffected biologically (and therefore being shitfucked in terms of sleep schedule n such) would be really funny though.

How much well. That really depends. It seems selfish, regardless of much you slow it down, you know? dragging everyone down with me. It's not really dragging them down persay but like..... eventually the novelty would wear out for most people I suppose. Who wants to be 13 any longer than they have to be. I do wonder, though, how many people would like... take the time . slow it down or whatever. Like there's a million storylines out there about extending life n such with characters who choose not to because they've already like... lived and whatever. Basically I wanna know if this is just a me thing or if everyone's content with how time is always running out

I don't think I would want to speed up time unless it's like a.... I remaining unaffected biologically type situation. Literally if I'm just going to die faster what's the point. Don't have enough time as it is. I DO think it would be funny to watch like. Time speed by. Like one of those "character sadly sits as life zooms by them" type things. That would make me really sad though.

[fluff-n-cookies]

Randomly off the bat Dabi, Shigaraki and Spinner (separately) With a quirkless girlfriend Who has an Ex that wants to get back with her, BUT……. The ex turns that “HE BROKE UP WITH HER” because she “had no quirk” and that she was “useless to him”

(Those are the quotes she says to them while telling them the short version of the story) Dabi, Shigaraki, Spinner, deals with the situation themselves.

(I love those boys😍 and I thought it be a good idea story for you, so go crazy and have fun with it😅)

Okay, girlie, while I love the fact that you're sharing this stuff with me, I don't think you read this. the yellow paragraph. I hope you send this request to some other writers, @honeybubblebeeeeee is one of my personal favs. I do however like the idea of a reader having no quirk and being abandoned because of it, so I'll put a platonic spin on it.

AND I ALSO DON"T WRITE FOR SPINNER SORRY!!!

Reader was abandoned by their family after being born to a quirk marriage meant to provide children with strong quirks only for their first child to have no quirk. not wanting their reputation destroyed they abandoned our dear reader at 5 leaving her in an orphanage and a note to near come find them less they wanted a bounty on their head. (reader is now 16)

Dabi likes children, he likes how they have this innocent aura, he likes that they, hopefully, have not gone through the horrors he has. Hopefully. On the other hand, he hates quirk marriages, he hates hero's, in fact, I'd even say he hates fathers in general.

To tell Dabi that your relationship with your father or your mother is bad is to get them at the top of his hit list, VIP shit. Endeavor is just a couple seconds behind them.

but what hurts him more, what hurts him the most is if you actually believe them, if you push yourself through hand to hand combat, sniping, and other such practices not for the sake of improving yourself but to prove to them (not that they care) that you are not useless.

Oh how it pains him, to wake up in the dead of night to see your tear stricken face as you berate a poor punching bag to death on the roof. The wind is cool as you swing, and swing again. It's as if you dance for the stars of the night and the stars alone with not a thought for the trees or the mountains. Only ever the stars. 

The sting hurts, the impact of thinly wrapped fists against a leathery wall, but that anger that drains with it is enough to make the pain worth it, is it not?

That anger you feel, is an anger that Touya knows all too well. The type of anger that makes one want to yell of the heavens, yell that they are not a sinner despite being imprisoned in hell. He’ll watch as you swing with fury, fury of not being enough, fury of being thrown away like trash.

one man's trash is another's treasure though, right?

In that case, you're Touya's most darling treasure. Oh the urge to hold you close and tell you everything's going to be okay, as he pets your head, whispering promises of vengeance on your behalf. To give you a reason to smile.

Oh, it's strong.

Oh, the blood he's shed for you.

he won't say anything, if you see him get you water after you nearly faint from mental and physical exhaustion, no you didn't. if you saw him undo the bandages on your arms from training and replace them with new fresh ones, you're delusional. If you saw him stalking your family's socials and calling someone to leak their crimes, shhh, don't tell.

----

"I mean, yeah, you kinda are."

Was his genuine first thought.

I mean, what do you want him to say? that your quirk doesn't determine your worth, like what?

and darling, when I say correct him, I mean correct him, please correct him. Please look dead into his eyes and say "I'm not useless!". for when I say it will escalate, trust me it will Escalate.

this boy has never had a true friend, and on top of that, he was teased as a child for, well being him. So the moment he gets a friend, his heart will swell, for once he feels cherished, and my poor boy, he doesn't show it correctly.

he's just so happy to finally have someone to talk to and joke around with, but doesn't realize just yet what is a joke and what is not. so he'll keep pushing it, it supposedly is an "inside joke" so he'll keep doing it.

So please correct him! tell him that it hurts, and tell him lightly to not risk breaking his heart.

Because he wants to make you happy, he can't stand the fact that you go quiet whenever he calls you quirkless, and that you're progressively distancing yourself more and more. And believe me when I say, it's painful for the both of you.

Please be his friend, and please let him make you happy correctly, you are just so perfect, we can't have such a perfect thing so sad now can we?

---

yeah, done admist some weird shit, and did I mention that I'm a horrible writer?

[hidtired]

A Single Punch [Part 3]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Description: The line up ended with people thinking you died. However, your recovering at Hilltop with severe injury's. How will people react to seeing you again?

2.6k words

Warnings (much angst, injury, near death, depression, recovery, typical walking dead shenanigans) [Happy ending, fluff <3]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Your POV

"They took Daryl as their prisoner."

That sentence replay in your mind as you lay in bed that night. You had no idea what they were doing to him. Not even if he was breathing in the same moment you were. He doesn't even know you still are. You had to bite down on your tongue to prevent you from getting emotional. You were struggling to exist. Adding this mental pain onto the physical, you would never recover if something happened to him. You wouldn't have the strength to try and become better.

You would die of a broken heart.

The pain medication giving to you is what put you to sleep. Waking up foggy, still with a weird compression feeling in your neck. People had started their days already. You stared as people were getting ready for the morning. You proceeded to stretch trying to regain control of your body again. You heard Sasha and Rosita talking outside, "Then let me come with you, its stupid to go alone.'' You were confused, but what else is new. But, it sounded like they were going to do something they weren't supposed to.

Sasha had promised to help wash your hair in the sink yesterday. So when she came to keep that promise you questioned her. She was preparing the area you were going to use to wash your hair (Hopefully removing whatever blood that the last time didn't.) "Where are you going?" Sasha had turned to you towel in hand, "What are you talking about? I'm not going any where, we are washing your hair." She seemed to think you were confused but your expression remained blank, "With Rosita..." Sasha pursed her lips, "You heard us talking earlier." She stated it in realization. She sighed before helping you to lay your head in the sink.

Warm water was flowing down your scalp, a relief to you. Sasha began while running her fingers in your hair, carful of the stitches. "You can't tell anybody... I just can't- can't live with it. He need to pay for what he did." You sat there and listened, she wanted revenge, closer. You released a long breath, "I don't like it. Think- of the conseq-quences. Act on here-" You pointed to your brain, "not here..." your hand rested above your heart. "I know this one is much louder." You looked up at her with sad eyes. She simply looked away for a second. You continued, "No one else, we are losing no one else." Then is when she looked down at you, "Lets get your hair dry and get a new bandage on." You only sighed but complied.

She was probably hoping you world forget what you had heard. Just because you didn’t talk most of the time didn’t mean you weren’t getting better. You felt like you were at the point of having clear cognitive abilities. Your struggle was in having your brain controlling your body. You would tell your foot to move and it would, it just wouldn’t get to where you thought it told you it was. Maggie walked in frustrated about something but you had to tell her to talk to Sasha and Rosita.

“Maggs?”

You had startled her out of her thoughts, “You need something Y/N?” She approached you while looking you over for something wrong. You could only hold your head down ashamed, Sasha said not to say anything but you couldn’t let it go. “Could you check on-n Sasha? She and Rosita, planning something…” Maggie stood there confused before realizing what they could be planning. So without a word she ran out the door to look for them.

She returned later explaining Enid told her they had already left. Jesus was going after them though. Now you could only hope they were going to be ok.

You had asked Enid to help you outside to a bench. You wanted to be near if they came back. Also maybe because the trailer was driving you mad. You could tell it was getting late with the temperature slowly dropping. The book you were reading had lost your interest. You stared out watching everyone go about there days. You hadn’t thought much about Negan. The thirst for his blood that many seemed to have. You’re sure if you sat and lingered on it you would. For now it was still a thought of terror. You would dream about the feeling of the bat. Only on nights the meds started to fade and your headache only fueled the sensation.

Then Daryl would swirl around in your head. He was shot the last you saw him. Even worse he could only think you were dead like everyone else thought. Knowing him he was having guilt eating him alive. About you and Glenn. You’ve seen how he gets with grief. You could only hope he didn’t do something stupid.

The sunset reminded you they weren’t coming back today. You attempted to get up before older lady was at your side helping you. It was frustrating being so dependent. The was no use pushing the help away because you did need it. You sulked while laying down in bed. You didn’t talk for the rest of that night going to bed early.

You woke up before anyone. You slowly moved to get out of bed. Taken small slow steps leaning on anything near you. You had managed to get out slowly closing the door. You didn’t trust going down the steps so you sat down going down that way. Making your way back to that bench all by yourself took a good half hour. The cold air was slightly warming with the sun peaking over the hills. The cold was welcome, you preferred it better then the constant burning in your aching body.

Enid was the one to wake up seeing you gone and alerting Maggie. She had found you at the bench. She feared you had fallen somewhere. She sat opposite of you, “You should had woken one of us.” Looking at her seeing the expression of someone tired and lost. “I got here, eventually.” She only looked at you displeasingly. You smiled at her before choking out,

“I’m sorry-y my current existence was at the expense of Glenn’s.”

She looked shocked, “That’s not how it-“ you were waving your hand slowly waving her off, “It’s true, I’m just telling you I won’t let it go to waste. He was one of the good things left in the world and I’ll do right by him.” It was the first semi clear thing you’ve said your entire recovery. Despite it being slower and more forced out, it was firm and decisive. Maggie stared at you with tears in her eyes, placing her hand on yours and squeezing it. She nodded, “Thank you.” The rumbling in the distance broke the moment. Maggie stood and listening closely, “It could be the Saviors again.” She ran to get up onto the watch platform.

As the sound got closer it achingly sounded like Daryl’s bike. Maggie was yelling to open the gates. You stood and slowly made your way around a corner again leaning on anything to help you. The gates were wide open as a bike and two figures on them got off. It was Daryl… he was here. He is right there! Your slow steps soon turned faster and more wobbly. You started to cry. He was getting hugged by Maggie oblivious to your presence. You ran out of things to keep your balance but continued on sloppily. Your cry’s turn louder as you yell,

“DARYL!”

Your sobbing now- struggling to catch a breath even. You couldn’t get there fast enough. Daryl quickly turned at the voice. Your brain moving too fast for your body, caused you to fall to your hand and knees. But you still try and crawl.

Daryl POV

Earlier

Daryl was making his attempt to escape again. With the key that was slipped under the door, he was headed to his bike after finding some cloths and Ricks gun in Dwight’s room. The place was empty, until a larger man rounded the corner with food in his hand. Fat Joey he had heard them call him. He startled when they made eye contact. He lifted his hands in a surrender, “L-look man I didn’t see anything, you could just go I won’t say anything.” But Daryl angrily approached the him. “No! No wait!” Daryl had beaten him into the floor. Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Another person, he stopped looking over to the presence.

He straightens in surprise, “Jesus?”

Jesus was as surprised to see him to. Daryl looked rough, and if the way he just watched him beat that man to death, wasn’t doing the best emotionally. He seemed on edge, and most notably animalistic. Daryl waved him over to the bike, “We gotta go.” Daryl was fiddling to start the bike as Jesus approached him. He seemed sporadic, maybe that’s why he didn’t mention anything about you. The man was already at level ten no need to push him further.

The ride to Hilltop took them until morning light to break. The gate opened and Daryl seeing Maggie made him feel like a hole had appeared under him and the only voice that could have possibly pulled him out of it rung out through the air.

“DARYL!”

Now

He had turned to see if he imagined it. He saw you struggling to make your way over. He first thought that like how Rick hallucinated Lori, he was doing with you. But regardless he ran the rest of the way you couldn’t as you fell. He was breathing hard and tears were streaming down his bruised face. He reached down to pull you to your feet. He caught a glimpse of your face seeing a bandage rapped around your head. He was in disbelief as he held you. You had crumpled into him. Your casted arm going around him as your other found his hair pushing him closer to you. Daryl’s voice held a tremble, “How is this possible.”

You choked down a gasp of air before talking, “You punched him…” You pulled back to look at his face. Hand removing from his hair to caress his cheek.

“I didn’t intend to play dead but did. I passed out- and- and then heard- took y-you.” Your speech was turning more slurred harder you tried to talk. It was obvious you were struggling to keep up with yourself. Daryl could only stare. Overwhelmed by the feelings flooding through him. After feeling like he had his entire being ripped from his body, only for it to appear back to him. ‘His punch?’ He couldn’t care to think of why you were in front of him just that you were. He wasn’t a religious man by any means but he was thankful to whatever had made you fallen back into his arms.

You were crying at a small whimper now when Maggie approached putting a hand to your back. “Shhh, you have to calm down Y/N, let’s get you laid down.” Daryl was dazed, still struggling to comprehend if this was real. Maybe a dream? Was he still in his cell? He had a good look at you now. Your face all kinds of colors. Your skin pale with bags under your red eyes. You moved almost like a toddler. Just like how Judith would try to sass him and walk leading her tripping at the inability to multitask. You were in obvious pain. You had yet to pull away from him. He looked to Maggie with a panicked and questioning look, “Is she okay, how hurt is she?” He moved to sweep you by the legs to pick you up bridal style. He didn’t even care for the pain in his shoulder from the gun shot.

Maggie started to lead them to the trailer, “She has been getting better. She was much worse at the start. I’ll explain everything.” In the trailer he set you down on a bed. You had one hand still on his arm. He sat down on the side taking your hand into his turning to Maggie for an explanation. Catching the hint she continued,

“We didn’t even notice she was still alive until Sasha and I were on are way to Hilltop.”

Daryl interrupted- “Why were you going here? Rick said you had died from whatever sickness you had, but saw Gabe did a fake grave for you.” She inhaled before placing a hand to her stomach, “I thought I was losing the baby…” Color drained from his face, Maggie spoke reassuringly, “They baby is fine! The doctor who looked at me also helped her.” They both turn to you. You were fiddling with his hand in yours, seemingly mesmerizing by it. She sighed, “He said she was recovering better than he thought she would. She wasn’t herself the first few days but, she seemed to have taken most of the force to her hand.” Daryl's eyebrows furrowed and he eyed the cast on your hand.

You turn your attention to Daryl, “I’m ok… I swear.” He saw what had happened to you. The sound of that damn bat and the blood pouring out from your motionless body. Maggie movement caught his attention, “I let you two be, you’ll find me around.” She walked out the door before he could reply. You sighed at her abrupt exit and the face he was making. The face of a man consumed of guilt, “Later, you-u should talk through it with her. Your face is saying it all.”

Oh to be called on his B.S. again. To have you reading him like you had the manual to him. He probably still had the thought written on his face, ‘Your really here.' The pressure you pressed in your combined hands made him return it.

“Daryl, what did they do to you.”

A simple question really but his mind spun at the remembrance. He was covered in grime, and he is sure you noticed him being a little twitchy. The cuts and bruises to add told you a story. “Nothing worse than thinking you were dead.” He said it truthfully. You gave that god awful look that would make is heart pound. “Ar-are you ok?” Your eyes were becoming glassy. He only smiled and began to nod, “I will be now.” You slowly smiled back to him.

He went to clean up at your request, had taken a shower and cleaned some of the cuts on his face, along with his still healing bullet wound. He returned back to you and ate. He was quiet to observe you. Taken his own notes on your condition.

You were face down on top of his chest after he ate. Both soaking in each other. Daryl broke the silence, “Be my wife…” You didn’t even hesitate, raising your head to look at him and replying, “Where’s my ring at then…?” He huffed out some air having a dumb smile on his face, “In are room…” That had gotten your attention, “How long has it been there?” Marriage for Daryl wasn’t a concept he thought would be a part of his life with how he was raised. “Found it back on a run for the prison. Never found a moment with how everything went down.” Your hand reached to whip a tear from your eye before flopping back down on him,

“I’ll be your wife.”

A ruckus outside caused Daryl to investigate, removing himself from you felt like a sin. "I'll go check it out, stay here." He only looked back for a moment before heading out the door. He slowly stalked to see the gate open. Jesus appeared by him, "I was just about to get you." Daryl looked at him questioningly. He continued his approach to the gate. Daryl rounded the corner to see Rick, Carl, Michonne, Tara, and Rosita. Rick pulling away from Maggie, and all eyes falling to him.

The group he considered his family was here.

Part 4

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Also sorry again for grammar or spelling that is messed up! Dyslexia kicks my ass on the daily.

[manicrouge]

An Ode to Serelia

[𝟷𝟾+, 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸] || Part Two

[𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎: 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝚂𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 01/01/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Displeased is the siren who weeps, a sister stolen leading to her finding the man who helps her to her feet.

[𝙲𝚠]: blood, graphic violence, torture, gore, body horror, violence, character death, murder, loss of a parent, angst, mention of suicidal thoughts, smut, loss of virginity, creampie, inexperienced!reader, possessive!Simon

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 23,720

𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 If you're intrigued in the music I listened to writing, there's a link to the spotify playlist, enjoy !!

[𝙰/𝙽]: HIIII !! This is the story I mentioned the other day on my blog, it's here, it's written (hopefully to a decent standard) and it was a lot of fun to write and I hope you have fun reading it !! Also I did change up the appearences of sirens a little for the sake of being #unique and #different. Greek mythologies version would have been interesting, though I'm unsure how exactly a bird with the head of a woman would translate into a cod fanfiction so please forgive my creative liberties.

Also, there may be the possibility for a part two cause I have an idea if you would like that pls let me know!!

Comments are always appreciated, please let me know what you think... unless you think it's the worst thing you've ever read, then tell me, but in a nicer way pls, i.e. 'bless you, you tried' or 'hmmm, I've read better, good try though!'

(I'm very sensitive).

HAVE FUN!!

P.s. Rhymezone and me were besties while i was writing this. Also I figured out how to make the text tiny... I'm learning guys!!! And sorry for it being so long, tumblr was literally lagging near the end of writing this whoops.

Also!!! Share any request you have for me in my 'Ask me anything'!! I'd be happy to write more alt aus with different characters :))

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Illuminated in the night, entranced by the tide, the sailors always come to you, such a mistake they make, too little too late, for they can never ever run. Foolish mortal men, sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den, for a woman in the sea is never just a friend.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

In the dead of night, you awake to a glow. It's seemingly stretching out its arms, calling out to you.

The orange light bends and warps with the movement of the sea, the rolling waves and glaring light for the moon creating a mixture of light which creates a celestial shimmer on the scales on your tail, reflecting off of your black eyes as you turn your head up in its direction.

The muscle in your chest is pounding, muffled words running through your ears as you keep your eyes trained on the light pushing its way from the shore all to make its way to you.

A full moon is never a good thing, although, submerged in the depths of the sea, you find it difficult to make out the shape of the glowing orb in the sky.

Her light confirms your worst fear, though, your eyes struggle to make anything out.

Even at night, the coral surrounding your bed is sleeping, nature reserving its strength for another troublesome day of battling against the grubby hands of the legged folk who rule both land and sea with an iron fist.

'Don't go meddling with the folks of the land, my dear, for trouble is the only thing ye shall find.'

It's the lesson of your mother which courses through your mind, like a shock of adrenaline through the body, a dopamine which has your hands trembling while sitting in quiet contemplation.

Land folk are dangerous, maniacs who believe they can possess the land and all that walks upon it.

To own the world, you would have to be mother nature herself, even then, her presence is discounted for because one of the land folk has in abundance what she lacks: golden coins.

You're familiar with these things, these little circular items they carry on their being, sometimes in small leather pouches, recalling a few of them being in the pockets of silly sailors who though they had the right to the place you and your sisters called home.

During their time spent, they toyed with the land as though she herself can not feel, taking and taking, so much so, you feared your initial silence to their actions would have resulted in you being damned for an eternity.

They massacred most of the fish, took your food as though it was theirs to take, discounting the creatures in the surrounding water. Greedy were the city folk, both of these golden things and your food, so, you followed the rule your mother had introduced.

Holding you on her lap, she looked at you and your delicate little frame, placing her hand against the wound on your tail.

Blood drifted in the the water, swirling with the current of the water and you sniffled in your mothers lap.

How terrible the wound was, throbbing as she plucked seaweed from out of the ground, using it to cover the cut.

The wound had been the fault of the land folk; they mistook you for a fish you supposed, though your little mind really didn't care to stop and acknowledge the truth of what happened.

The hook they had caught your tail with sat beside your mother and as she picked it up, she held it before you, watching as your eyes grew wide, nearly bulging from out of your little head as you began to squirm on her lap. What a monstrous little thing that contraption was, causing such hurt when it was the size of seashell. Keeping it in your view, she shushed you, opening her mouth, showing you her pointed teeth as she cupped your face with her other hand.

'My poor Urchin,' she lamented, 'it can do no harm now; it's not in the hands of the city folk, it's in mine,' she soothed, yet, despite her words you found that your throat was clogged as you recalled the morphed faces of the men who had caught sight of you when you had been caught.

'Is it because we hurt the bad people that they're doing this to the ocean?' you quietly asked, choking out your words as the gills either side of your neck opened.

It felt as though the hook had been stuck in your throat, ripping the insides as you struggled to the words out while sitting on your mothers lap. 'Are we bad people, mama?'

'No dear, we protect the sea and do the job the Lord made for us, it is the folks on her back who are the bad people, we're submerged in her soul, you see, keeping her from harms way and the cruel games of the true beasts,' she firmly stated, 'we hide from the enemy, covered in the current of what gives life to take the lives of those who are much too greedy for this world,' she lectures, 'so you mustn't pity the land folk; if they stray too far from their home and into yours, it is your duty to keep them away.'

'Even if we hurt them?'

'A lesson taught, is a warning sent, my dear,' she sweetly said, 'for a thieves broken neck is easy to repent.'

You acted that day as your mother had intended all those years ago: cruel, brutal, and unforgiving.

By the time you had finished, the water surrounding you was branded with their blood.

You gasped and choked, spitting out chunks of sailor from out of your teeth, plucking chunks of their cotton shirt out of your mouth the remains of a fish bone; it was far too stuck for you to use your nails, no matter how sharp they are.

You cleaned your teeth, watching as the bodies with their organs descended to the bed of the ocean with their gold coins in your hands while their pockets were filled with stones.

It was payment for their crimes and in death, they paid you to keep their bodies down, away from their families, for, you thought of the children on the coast.

They very well may be human, but they are undeserving of seeing one of their own in such a way.

You felt little when as you watched them sink, and upon reflection, all you ever feel is remorse for your silence.

Had you acted sooner, well, you suppose it would have saved you a trip to the deeper part of the ocean when hunting for food.

In the midst of your exhaustion you find your thoughts again, realising in your moment of contemplation, the little light grew closer to the edge of the coast.

Placing your hands against rocks, you push yourself from out of your reserved mellow cove, cocking your head to the side as you reach your hand outwards toward an orange fleck of light which greets you with open arm.

Exiting the cave, a flurry of bubbles pour pass your lips as their chants grow louder, as though they too are underwater.

Your pointed ears twitch as you push forwards through the water.

Your eyes are heavy as you push through the water, growing closer and closer to the source of the light, the sudden shift in the brightness causing them to sting.

You keep your eyes on the mysterious glow, rubbing your face with your hand, the long nail on your pointer finger catching the edge of your lip. Hissing, you watch as a faint trail of rouge seeps from your mouth, pressing the tips of your finger into the wound. Still, your eyes are unmoving, much too interested in the glowing beyond on the water.

Then, you hear voices.

It's the voice of humans, their low grumbles, cheers and chants causing the water surrounding you to vibrate from their ferocious tongues.

'I found one papa!'

Shifting, you turn your head towards the surface.

Whatever they have found is not for their hands, you sure of that much, and your stomach grows weary.

Oh, what catastrophe are they going to muster tonight? What are they going to use for sacrifice?

Your throat begins to knot, its as though someone is pressing their hands around the gills on you neck as your mind races.

One by the ocean is one of your own. Who else would have landed up on the shore? But it can't be, no it mustn't be; they're smarter than that.

No one else is awake at this hour, you have the consciousness of only yourself and the land folk.

Why would an Urchin be so far out that the spliced fingers of man could get to her?

No, they're in their caves, keeping their ears out for the horn of a ship, or perhaps the merry song of a sailor.

As you break the surface of the water, the waves of the ocean brush against your head, rain pouring from out of the sky, The breeze against your skin rendering you breathless.

You're guilty of feeling a crude interest take hold of you as you peer towards the sure, before ultimately deciding to succumb to temptation, following through your curiosity in the hopes to find what has caused such a disturbance.

It's difficult to see, your eyes are trained for the sea, you have little experience on land and the light above is much harsher than the gentle streams beneath the surface.

As you push forward, keeping most of your body underwater, your ears are greeted with more howling.

Their's excitement seeping from off of their tongues, they're bemused with their discovery.

Perhaps it's one of their rituals; you've found, through the time you have been watching them, they're terribly fond of the sacrifice of their own. Their disregard for the very thing they grew from is disheartening, a reflection of their characters.

Their form of sacrifice is truly despicable, against the order of nature, but they do not care for their own. One could be starving at a table full of food, the very table they set, yet, forbidden from touching a single thing all because of another's self importance.

Yet, it is you and your kind who are the monsters.

It's at times like this you long for your mother.

But, with the rain battering the backs of the humans as they form a circle around their special find, you find both her absence and the shyness of the moon leaves crude goosebumps covering your body as you shift in the water.

'MONSTERS,' a silk tone calls as you grow closer and closer, yet, you are forced to stop; the tide is upset, the moon displeased at such a display of savagery.

The thing in your chest stops, your webbed hands forming fists as you crane your neck forward.

'Monsters you are! Let me go,' the voice cracks as more cheering ensues.

'Cover her mouth,' demands one, 'keep her from singing her murderous song; her voice is as sweet as honeysuckle and it is her barbed tongue which has taken our brothers from us, and we will not let it take us! This is for the men we have lost to the creatures of the sea!'

You watch as the waves grow stronger, the rain landing with a slosh against the sea.

It's difficult to keep yourself in one place, both the fire in your chest and the shoving formation of the water urging you to go forward. You know her tone, though it is shredded and brutal as she speaks, unlike the sweet songs you savour.

Serelia.

'No!' she screams, ripping her vocal cords as you see a webbed hand appear from the circle of bodies, blood dripping from down a wound you spy on her shoulder.

Gripping the sand on the shore, the waves from the water brushing against the tips of her fingers and you feel the crashing body of water forcing you forward.

'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to—'

Opening your mouth, you will a tune to escape you, to pull them away from her to give her time to return to her home. Only, your much too choked up as water floods your mouth, the foul weather proving to work in mans favour.

Pushing yourself further up, you open your mouth, letting out a ghastly wrench as a sudden flood of coldness fills your veins, pulling at your tongue, keeping it pressed against the bottom of your mouth. Your lips quiver from the temperature as you attempt to pry a tune from out of your clogged up mouth.

'I- Illuminated—' you swallow another mouthful of water.

Her hand disappears.

You watch as a hand grabs her wrist, hearing her squeal and scream.

The circle of bodies disperses as you see the ends of her tail held in the forearms of a man.

There's a fire in your eyes, a fire enough to leave the sea bloody as your scaled skin and blackened eyes catch a patch of red staining the sand.

The sea betrays you as it sweeps up, carrying away grains of the red sand as the land folk hold their torches up in celebration as blood drips down onto the sand, the ruined blue scales of your sister turning purple in the light of the moon with the mixture of blood which pours from her wounds.

You watch in horror, hands slapping against the water as you look towards the moon nestled in the sky, peering down at you.

In the light of Luna, you recall her face.

Her innocent little face, doe eyes, cheery grin, how her nose would crinkle at the slightest accusation whenever she had done something particularly troublesome. The colour of her tail, how she looked when she sat upon the rocks singing her merry songs for the passersby to listen to.

A gift for the men she was, a gift spoiled by their grubby, wretched hands.

A sister as such spoke with a silk tongue, cohesive, one of your most prized possessions. A chest of jewels from horrid humans simply never compared to the life of one of your own, nothing.

Not even their dastardly golden coins.

Your head grows light as you keep your eyes trained on the humans marching forward, the light from the sticks they carry in their hands growing weary in the distance as the wind grows stronger. It's all too much, the sight of one of your own, the knot in your throat keeps you from gulping down necessary gulps of air. You feel nauseous, an icy chill freezing the blood in your veins.

Sinking back to the depths, your hand is forced and you're kept away from the dreary sight as the current drags you back under.

In the warped complexion of the surface, you see the moon still staring at you and you bark out in fury, 'you backstabber,' you roar, 'I saw my mother in you and you have betrayed our own for keeping you safe,' you continue onwards in your fury, your face contorting as you point up towards the surface.

'She has done nothing, as innocent as an Urchin can be, and you take her? Why not me?'

The current grows displeased.

'We give our lives, all our lives... my mothers,' you heave, placing a hand against your chest, 'I know not the secrets of the land, I don't possess the means to go upon the surface, how- how do we get her back? Why? Why would you take her and not me?' you choke out.

She shifts in colour, you spy her eyes growing red as you look upwards at her. 'She does not deserve to be a part of their game, neither did my mother,' you cry, 'take me, I'm offering myself up, leave her—'

There's a pull in the current, the rolling waves above the surface plunging downwards with a spiralling head.

You meet the eye of the storm, bubbles escaping your mouth as you bring your hands to cover your face. It hooks you, pulling you into as a ton of water comes crashing down into the small pocket of air you have become trapped in.

The last thing you catch before you're senses are flooded with darkness is the red glint in Luna's eye before you descend into the abyss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It's with the crude calls of village folk that he leaves his post.

There have been some form of disturbance for the past couple of nights, and after the first ending him standing on the shore of the town, his eyes being battered with the wind and sea, he found he has little interest in part-taking in the games of the fools. Fortunately, as he raises from his post, peering from out the window, he hears a shift behind him.

His eyes are unmoved by the chaos beyond the warning, his lids only lifting when he catches a child rushing ahead of the crowd of people.

His words are lost in the hollers of the crowd, though, he bounces with such excitement, the type that can only be likened to when a child gets money for chocolate, or even a new toy.

Only, he's acting as though he has won the biggest and best chocolate bar, his little head bobbing as he bounds down the cobble streets, his hand wrapping firmly around an elder mans wrist, tugging him along eagerly.

From behind him, he hears the scrape of a chair and a weary sigh. 'Another call for me? Swear, they cause mischief in the dark they do,' he comments with a hearty chuckle.

Turning away from the window, the red glow from the fire on the end of their torches lights emits an orange light in the room, though, the man before him is covered as stray arms of light stretch beyond his bulky frame, merely able to catch even the side of the man with a mohawk's face.

'Has Price told y' what they're up to? It's been every fuckin' night for weeks straight,' he asks, tugging down the edge of his mask, tilting his neck either side, a crude snap emitting as he does so.

The man standing in front of him offers him a toothy grin, crossing his arms over his chest with a short nod. Muscles bulge against the white cotton clinging to his frame and he readies himself by undoing the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt, pushing the sleeves to the crease of his forearms.

'Apparently, they're lookin' for merfolk or somethin', y'know what Captains like, doesn't 'ave the time for stupid shit like this,' he explains, 'read too many fuckin' fairytales if y' ask me. Couple ships disappear off of the coast and they believe a fuckin' fish did it?' He breaks out into a spell of roaring laughter. 'They call 'em sirens.'

'Sirens?'

'Aye,' nods the slightly shorter man, rubbing the stubble on his face with his hand. 'Sirens,' he adds, 'lore men to their deaths with their songs they do, supposedly, prettier than any lass on the land... sounds like a story written by a man, eh? Beautiful bonnie's with a good throat on em', paradise if y' ask me,' he proceeds to laugh even harder at his own joke, kneeling over as he does so.

It takes a brief moment for him to realise the masked man standing before him is unmoved by his comments.

Awkwardly, he comes to a sudden stop as he peers up at the man, slowly adjusting his posture, using his hands against his knees to steady himself as he notes the red lights behind him have disappeared.

'Suppose I should go and fetch them back,' he quietly grumbles, 'keep an ear out though, won't ya, Ghostie? Needa make sure they don't try n' sacrifice me to the sirens!'

'Affirmative,' he says briefly, turning his attention away from him, listening to his footsteps against the floorboards as he tucks his gloved hands into his pockets. 'Johnny,' he calls out.

The footsteps stop.

'Doesn't count if I find out y' went into the water to find them yourself,' he warns, looking over as the man nods his head, 'I'll drag you back in and sacrifice y' myself.'

'Gonna take more to get rid of me than that, Lt,' he answers, pushing the door open, 'throw a pint of ale in the sea, an' maybe, just maybe you'd get what y' want,' he laughs, walking out of the door with his hand pressing on the handle of the sword sitting at his waist.

The taller man stands and watches as he disappears into the dead of night, shaking his head in his direction.

'Fuckin' hell,' he grumbles to himself before turning his attention back to the chair he'd perched himself upon, grabbing the dagger he had set down onto the table, grabbing the cloth sitting beside it before kicking his feet back up onto the table, watching as Johnny disappears past the window, heading towards the crowd of chaos.

Turning his attention back to the dagger, he eyes himself in the refection, noting the redness of his eyes before rubbing the cloth over its smudge surface. 'Lost their fuckin' mind, can never excuse shit in a reasonable,' he grumbles to himself, 'better chance of Price quitin' smoking than there is the chance of fuckin' sirens,' he continues on, lifting his head when the candle perched on his desk flickers.

'Bloody lunatics.'

As he sat in the silence of the station, he finds his mind wandering. It's unusual for his mind to ever really escape him, although, with the sight of that little boy jumping up and down in such a manner he finds it difficult to shake a niggling feeling which is poking and prodding at his temple.

His excitement was evident, that much was obvious the longer he focuses on the memory.

If such is the case, if there is truly something behind the little boys excitement, he's there, sitting on his ass, doing absolutely nothing while the man is left to deal with everything to come from whatever has been found. There's something different about the tone of the people, he sees it well.

Terror trickles in, one head at a time, passing by the window in a manic flurry.

At first, he doesn't notice, far too interested in the blade he'd pulled from the sheathe resting on his belt to see the chaos unfolding beyond the window of the station. Their words a muffled, and they seem distant as he eyes the popped blood vessels in the white of his eyes. Moving the metal closer to his masked face, he narrows his eyes, rubbing the cloth over the blade again.

The door bursts open, and while unnerved, outwardly he remains still, snapping his head around.

The man who had left no more than fifteen minutes ago is back, his face wind swept and pale as he heaves out heavy breaths, keeping his arm firmly against the door.

His white shirt is soaked through to the skin, the pinkness of his flesh peeking out from under the fabric, his calf high boots marked with wet sand, crunching as he steps a single foot into the Station, not daring to take one more.

It's easy to read his face, though he finds his brow creasing as he realises that the very look on his face is fear.

Immediately he stands up from his seat, the flame of the candle beside him flickering as he does so. Tossing the cloth onto the table, he sheathes his knife, grabbing his coat from off of the back of his chair, throwing it over his shoulders.

'What?' he asks, 'a fight break out or somethin'? Look like you've seen a ghost,' he breaths.

Johnny doesn't offer him a response for a moment, only looking up towards him with wide eyes, unable to pick his jaw up from off of the ground.

'Fucks sake, Johnny, what—'

'Siren,' he says quietly.

It's difficult to catch what he says with the rain hitting the window and street beyond the office. His lips curve into a crooked smile beneath his mask as he shakes his head.

Sirens? Is he fucking stupid?

The expression on his face doesn't change, even when he hears the small laugh escaping the confines of his mask.

'A lass was on the shore n' she has a fuckin' tail!' he exclaims, pushing himself up after catching his breath, 'tail blue as the sea, eyes black as the void... they bloody exist.'

'And where is she now? She go back into the water to swim off with her friends, hm?' he asks, 'ride away on the back of a horse with a horn on its forehead and wings too?' he scoffs, shrugging his jacket off, only for a hand to reach out, grabbing his forearm.

'Still on the beach.'

'The beach?'

'Aye.' he says, 'ran as fast as I could, woke Price 'n Kyle up, 'told them they had to get to the beach quick. If they keep hold of her, they're gonna kill her- she's a bloody mess, cryin' and screamin'.'

He pinches himself to make sure he's still awake while staring at the soaked man. In no way can he find a single thought in his mind at this moment to make anything make sense.

In fact, he feels a prickling heat flooding his flesh the longer he stands and processes what has just been relayed to him.

They're real, they're real and they have found one.

Despite the implications, it's difficult for him to miss the worry in his tone, and while what they deem to be a monster has just appeared off the coast of Lakekeep, he's still worrying about its safety.

'We have to go, they're gonna kill 'er, Ghost.'

Fixing his coat, he looks down at the dagger resting at his hip, giving a short nod as the man lets go of his arm.

'Price and Gaz followin' along?' he asks.

'Aye, didn't believe me at first,' confesses the man with a short laugh, 'still can't believe it meself and I've seen it with my own eyes,' he says, stepping back out into the rain.

Ghost follows after him, slamming the door of the Station shut as the head down the cobbled path, their boots splashing in the puddles forming in the tight streets as the rain hits the ground harder.

Their chants carry through the village, washing over the usual silence like a tidal wave, flooding his senses with cries and pleads.

As they edge closer, he can hardly believe it as a woman's voice bellows out, 'MONSTERS!'

It's brittle and broken the way she cries, and oddly, he feels that the voice tugs at his heartstrings.

'Mustn't listen to her speak, Lt,' he says, 'what they said is true, apparently the boy found her on the shore and when he approached her, he heard her hummin' a tune- said it had him in a trance,' Johnny says, looking to him.

'Monsters you are! Let me go!'

Stepping down off of the stone steps, the pair of the pursued the scene, hearing stray voices fall from out of the crowd, demanding that her mouth be covered in order for them to fulfil some form of revenge. Watching on, he catches the appearance of a bloody webbed hand poking out from the crowd, landing against the shore with a wet slap.

It's as though she's reaching out for something.

Following the line of her forearm, he watches as the sea climbs up the shore, touching the tips of her fingers as she continues to scream and cry.

Moving his attention from off of the beach, he looks to the water, eyeing the crashing waves as the wind sweeps the fabric of his long black coat to the side. The water is restless, and with the rain pouring from the black sky, it's difficult to make much out that isn't just raging water.

Although, in the glow of the torches which whip and wind in the wind, the light covers a fair distance beyond land, and he spots something in the water. In the darkness, it's difficult to make out more than a silhouette of what appears to be a human head. Only, after another crashing wave, he catches sight of pointed ears either side of the head.

Something is watching them, yet no one sees it.

'No!'

The scream from the centre of the crowd rips him out from his trance as he turns his head, following after Johnny.

'Please, we would do no harm if you did none to us. Please, let me go!' she screams with all her might, her voice piercing to the ears of everyone in the surrounding area.

The crowd dips as they shift, covering their ears with a harsh wince.

Finally, she's unveiled to him.

A gash in her head is pouring blood down her bare breasts as she fights and writhes against the hold of the hold of the men who keep her captive. Her ginger hair is matted and covered with the blood and sand, as is the rest of her body.

The slits on the side of her neck, similar to the ones on a fishes body open and close as she lets out muffled cries.

His eyes trail further down her battered body, the sight of a blue tail stained with blood greeting his gaze. In the light, it appears almost purple as the blood mixes with the shimmer of her scales.

Screwing her eyes shut, she fights with all the fury in her being, and as he watches her, he feels the same heat he felt at the station creeping back onto him, and despite the harshness of the weather, the warmth beaming from his skin is enough to keep him from shivering.

'Alright, move out of the fuckin' way!'

It's the voice of his Captain bursting through the chaos of the surrounding area.

Turning to look over his shoulders, he catches sight of Price and Gaz walking down the beach, and with ease, Price holds his hands up, his words catching the attention of the the booming crowd.

Silence falls upon them, the sirens cries mixing with the crashing sound of the ocean. The man moves past both himself and Johnny, Gaz standing between the pair of them as he parts the crowd with an astonishing ease.

The gasp that passes his lips when making it to the centre is enough to make even his blood run cold.

There's a moment of silence, the sound of the torches whipping against the wind as he keeps his eyes trained on the back of his Captains head.

Clearly, the cogs are turning, expecting what Johnny had told him to be that of a stupid joke, only, it isn't.

It's real and it's squirming around on the ground, staring Price right in the eyes.

'She's a murderer!' a voice shouts from the crowd, 'her and her people, she said it herself,' the continue on, fury carrying their tone past the cries of the woman on the ground.

Price continues to look at her, and as he looks over his shoulder, catching his eye, he turns back to the woman on the ground.

'Take her in,' he says with a firm nod, 'we'll put her in a cell in the Station for now, figure out what to do with her later,' he continues, looking at the two men who held her arms, 'carry her back to the Station,' he rules, resting his hands on his hips as he observes all the other faces in the crowd, 'as for the rest of y', funs over for tonight, get back home,' he demands.

'We'll take it from here. '

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You awake with a brittle moan.

Your mouth is full of send, a dull ache radiating from your chin as your forehead creases when you look ahead of yourself. You teeth bite down on the sand in your mouth, a disgusting crunch causing you to wince.

Memories are stubborn, not wanting to come back to you, only allowing you to recall the sight of blood on the beach and the crashing waves around you.

With a grunt, you attempt to push yourself up off of the ground, a grunt escaping you as your breasts push against the sand. Tearing your eyes from off of the beach in front of you, you shiver as you feel the water wash up, brushing against your limbs.

Looking to your hands, a startled gasp escapes you as you hold one out in front of your face. No longer are they webbed, no, instead, your fingers are separated. Curling your hand around the dark sand before you, you clench it in your fists, watching as it poured past it. Your hips ache as you shift, placing your cheek back against the sand.

Your head is spinning, you can't think of a single thing aside from the fact that your mouth is dry, horrifically dry.

You muster up what little spit you can, expelling grains of sand as the spit clings the your bottom lip, dribbling down the side of your mouth.

The water moves further up, and as you go to move your tail, you're startled by the sound of footsteps on the beach beside you, only, you're too tired to even check who it is.

I've failed as a sister, so if I must go out like this, then I will.

'Ma'am! Oh fuck, ma'am, are you okay?'

The tone is light, different to what you expected to hear counting you have washed up onto the very same coast you had seen Serelia on the night before... if it was even the same day as her disappearance, that is.

The sand crunches beside you as a shadow looms over you, keeping you from the brutal beams of the sun, a hand pressing against your shoulder.

Picking your head up, you muster out a pained whimper as you look at the man in front of you. Concern is etched on his brow as he stares down at you, shrugging off a piece of clothing, resting it against your shoulders.

Your eyes are narrow as you keep your eyes trained on him, unable to look anywhere else as he carefully places his hand against your cheek.

'Can you tell me your name?' he gently asks.

You swallow hard, your chapped and cracked lips pressing together.

Your eyes grow heavy.

You hear another curse under his breath as exhaustion rattles your body. Your head falls heavy and his hold on you slips away, gently placing your head back against the ground. You hope he leaves you be, allows the sea to swallow you whole so you can be with your own once again.

Two firm hands press against your shoulders, gently guiding so you're lying on your back.

His shadow keeps the sun from you once again as he scoops you up into his arms, keeping a firm grip around your shoulders and tail. his hand slips slightly as he uses his jacket to cover your breasts, and you shift when you feel his hand move lower, being extra cautious to cover up your tail.

His breathing is rough as he rushes up the beach with you in his arms, every step causing you to shift or hiss.

'Sorry, love,' he softly apologises, pulling you closer. You note how his pace slows upon him noticing the pain he's causing you by running, 'do you know where we are?' he asks, looking down at you.

Cracking your eyes open, the back of your neck burns as you attempt to look back at him. Poking your tongue past your lips, sand scrapes against the back of your throat as you open your mouth, all for a hoarse croak to escape your lips.

'Have to get you somethin' to drink,' he says firmly, 'you're okay now, love, I promise,' he reassures, pulling you closer to him.

You muster up a short 'hm', resting your head against his chest, listening to the little muscle in it thumping as he heads up the stairs, taking your further away from the beach.

The pair of you remain in silence and you hear the passing giggles and whispers of passersby as he keeps you against him.

You're unsure of what they're saying, though you're sure they're most likely laughing at your tail.

It's surprising hearing such a humorous reaction from them, figuring they would respond in a similar manner to how they did when you had heard Serelia screaming on the shore.

Mustering up a grunt, you flinch as your body is lightly pressed into a door. It squeals as it opens, and the very first thing you hear is a booming voice. It causes the dull ache in your head to worsen as you flinch.

'Am tellin' ye, it's straight out of a fuckin' fairytale it is,' booms the voice, 'can y'—'

There's silence.

Your eyes crack open as you observe the room you're in.

It's different to home, there's a rich smell, similar to the smoke from the lights on the beach.

'Found her on the beach,' confesses the man holding you, 'Johnny, go get some water, please,' he asks, 'she's got a mouthful of sand, she can hardly speak.'

There's a short answer, you can't quite hear it, as he moves you further into the room, setting you down.

Your damp hair hits the plush fabric of a pillow and something is pulled over your body. It's light, harmless.

'Where was she?' asks an unfamiliar voice. It's low, his accent is thick and as you turn your head to the side, you note the man has a thick brown beard, his hair quite short. Stepping towards you, he rests his large hand on your forehead. 'She's burning up.'

'She was near the same spot as last night where that... siren was,' he says.

It's as though life is breathed into you as you quickly sit up, ignoring the dizziness wrecking your mind. The man quickly pulls his hand from off of your forehead, moving it to your shoulder. 'Calm down, love,' he gently instructs, looking to the man standing beside you, 'you reckon she was attacked by it?'

'Could have been; she seems shaken,' he confirms.

Confusion hits you as you lift your tail, only to find that is has vanished.

As you lift your legs, a distraught gasp escapes you as you catch sight of legs.

Two legs- the same as the three men in the room have.

Quickly, you slap your hands to the side of your ears, your chest heaving as you realise your ears have shrunk, resembling that of the legged folk. Everything seems to come tumbling down in front of you, your head pounding as your eyes begin to sting.

'Hey, hey, you're fine,' hushes the man who found you on the beach. The door opens again and a cup of water is handed to him. Taking a seat beside on the bed beside you, he brings to the cup to your mouth. 'Have a drink,' he instructs.

You want to tell him no, to demand to know what they have done to her, yet, you know you can't do anything until you have something to drink.

So, you press your dry lips against the rim of the cup, allowing him to pour it into your mouth. The feeling is euphoric, unlike any sensation you've ever dreamt of, and you eagerly swallow down mouthful after mouthful of water, taking the cup in your own hands.

You're aware of the eyes on you, but you don't care, drinking from the cup until it is empty. With heaving breaths, your wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, keeping tight hold of the cup.

A hand settles against your knee, and as you look back up, the man who was sitting in the corner is now standing behind the two closest to the bed. You note the man who brought you water has an odd haircut, while the much taller man's face is completely covered aside from his eyes.

It's strange, the fabric of a thick hood pulled over is head, his eyes peering through the holes of a skull.

Is that real?

'Sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to upset you,' says the brown-haired man, squeezing your bare shoulder.

You look at him with your lips pressed together, bringing the cup closer to you as you swallow hard.

Despite his caring words, you find yourself unable to open your mouth- unable to trust him. He's going to hurt you if he finds out what you are, then what? You're forever bound to their land?

'What's the last thing you can remember before you washed up on shore?' he asks.

You look at him with beady eyes, and the man with his hand on your knee pats you gently, 'you're safe here, we're not gonna hurt you,' he reassures. 'You seemed panicked when we mentioned the mermaid, does it have something to do with her- or more of them?'

Your mind is racing trying to piece together a narrative.

Confirmation that she was the thing that put you in such danger will surely be a death sentence- if she isn't already dead. Living with that on your consciousness is a horrid thought to even think of, so, you distance yourself away from creating an accusation, though you find yourself in trouble as you realise how you reacted to the mention of her.

Essentially, you've acted on impulse and no matter the response, you're unsure if it's going to suffice.

'I- I...' you begin, your throat burning as you bring your hand up to clasp it, 'I was on a ship,' you answer, 'I remember it in water- b- but then there was a storm,' you explain, your voice choppy and broken as you rub your hand up and down your throat finding that even your gills have disappeared. 'The siren,' you begin, clearing your throat, 'she tried to help me.'

'Help you?' mutters the one with a strange haircut. 'How'd she do that, lass?'

'I- I was stuck,' you say, 'I couldn't get out an' she tried to, uh, pull me out,' you explain, 'but she got hurt- it might not even be the same one but... there was one, a good one,' you explain, gulping hard as the masked man standing beside the man with his hand on your shoulder shifts on his feet, his eyes burning into your flesh, the sunken eyes behind the skill mask leaving goosebumps on your flesh.

He's harsher than last nights current.

Keeping your eyes trained on the man, you observe him as he peers down at you, his built frame making you feel small. Most definitely, you do not want to get on his bad side; he could probably crush you with one hand.

'Couldn't have been the same mermaid,' he answers, his tone causing your chest to almost rattle, 'took an entire night for you to even wash up here, you wouldn't have survived if it was her,' he notes, the others around you shaking their heads in a collective agreement.

Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears, you feel blood coursing through your veins as you look up at him with teary eyes.

Your bottom lip protrudes as water begins to pour from your eyes. It's unlike anything you've ever felt, and, despite your burning eyes, you find the sensation oddly relieving.

You throat grows tight as you sharply inhale, allowing the cup to rest against the covers as you press the tips of your fingers into your cheeks.

A hiccup escapes your lips as your mouth trembles, all the misery of being lost and having lost escaping you in a cathartic sob that causes your entire body to shake.

'I- I don't know where I am, I- I'm scared,' you confess as more water clings to your eyelashes in little droplets, clinging on, only for their grip to fall loose as you blink, releasing more fresh streams onto your flesh.

Releasing a hand off of your shoulder, the man stationed beside you looks to the man who has his hand on you knee, 'you think you can go and get her some clothes? Poor things on show for the entire village to see,' he says. The man purses his lips for a moment, 'she's gotta have something that she doesn't want.'

'Has so many fuckin' dresses she won't even notice one has gone missing,' he says, standing up from off of the bed, 'I'll go and try and find something, as long as I don't take her cyan one I don't think she'll be too bothered,' he shrugs, 'keep an eye on her for me, won't you?' he asks, looking at the three.

The man with the peculiar haircut places his hand against his shoulder, patting it, 'she's in the best hands of the entire village,' he reassures, 'go an' find the lass some clothes, Gaz, we'll kep 'er safe,' he promises.

Gaz. What an odd name.

The rest of their conversation is lost on you as you're far too caught up in the tightness in your chest and the sounds of the screams you heard on the beach the night before to even think about anything else.

Only, when the door shuts, you startle at the sound of the slam, snapping your head up.

'MacTavish, I need you on patrol today,' says the brown-haired man. The disappointment on his face is notable as his eyebrows curl, 'everyone's on edge with the entire mermaid incident, the last thing I need I people trying to cause more trouble or almost drownin' going to find one of their own,' he says, 'speaking 'f which, need to go and check on her myself, make sure the head wound isn't goin' green,' he huffs, turning to the masked man standing behind him. 'Keep an eye out on her,' he states, turning his attention back to you.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief, allowing yourself to bathe in your emotion as you come to terms with the fact that she's alive.

Your eyes meet with his, your heart burning at the sight of pity burning in his gaze.

If things were any different, you very well would have wiped the soft smile off of his face, but you look at your options and his uniform, likening it to one your mother had described to you in the past.

'They like to think they have control, dress up in clothes just to make the isolation of their species more capable,' she explained while sitting in upon one a rock. You accompanied her, looking at her. She had such knowledge of the world beyond the water that you were simply awestruck with every story she told you. 'Fabric makes people listen, they're scared of the people with the golden buttons and sharp metal swords.'

'If you need anything, ask him and he'll get it for you,' he asks, looking over his shoulder at the man.

His tone grows harsher upon the mention of him doing his duty, your eyes falling to the man.

'Won't you, Ghost?

The masked man grabs the chair he was sitting on when you first entered the room, moving it as the brown-haired man and MacTavish move in the direction of the door. The chair settles at the side of your bed, as the pair move towards the door.

'Affirmative,' he grunts, taking a seat beside you while the two leave the Station, leaving you alone with the masked man called Ghost.

You look at him briefly, swallowing hard.

It's difficult to sit in silence, your stammering breath a reminder of all you've lost.

Beady eyes look at the masked man as you attempt to choke up the courage to say something to him. Despite sitting, his frame is much bigger than anyone else's you have ever seen, and as he leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, you flinch.

'Where's the mermaid?' you ask.

You watch his eyes scan the area surrounding you.

The fabric of his black mask moves as he sucks in a breath, 'can't say,' he confesses, 'confidential; unsure if anyone is listening out to try an' find her. If word gets out where she is, she'd be dead by tonight- if not sooner,' he explains.

'Why do they want her dead? Has she done something to you?'

You want to scream.

The man beside you is short with his responses, speaking of her as though he understands the whole picture, when in reality, their confinement of her is a crime punishable by death.

'She said somethin' she should've have,' he answers simply.

His words drag against his throat as he speaks to you.

'Oh,' you muster, resting your back against the wall behind you.

'Where were you goin'?' he asks.

You raise an eyebrow in his direction, tilting your head as you attempt to process what exactly he means by his statement.

'You said you were on a boat and you were rescued by one of the sirens,' he reminds you, your face flushing with colour as you realise you have already forgotten the tale you were twisting.

'I was with my sister,' you say, 'the memory is quite fuzzy,' you confess, knowing your knowledge of the surrounding land is limited to a map of the sea, not what is beyond it. 'It was for one of her trips, she was travelling to see her husband and then the storm hit.'

'The sea isn't too fond of forgiveness,' he remarks.

'Neither is the land,' you say, falling back into the security of the covers over you, allowing your back to slip from off of the wall, lying down.

Pushing himself up, he looks down at you, mustering a small hug as you sleeping exhale.

All the emotion and crying has your eyes drooping, disregarding your conversation. The man doesn't judge you for that, however, as you watch him looking over you with gentle eyes behind the mask.

'Get some sleep,' he says.

You expect him to say more to that, yet, instead, he pulls his chair from beside you, moving to it back to the corner he was sitting in before.

You keep your eyes on his broad back, watching as he sits down, kicking his feet up on to the desk, keeping his eyes out of the window.

Your eyes stay there as you drift off to sleep.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

When the door eventually bursts open, he's quick to send his eyes in the direction of Gaz as he walks through it with a bundle of garments. His mouth is open as he goes to speak, only to quickly shut his mouth when he is eyes falls to you, sleeping in the cot.

Holding the handle of the door, he pushes it shut so the lock clicks as quietly as possible, even going as far as to wince while doing so.

'I managed to find some clothes for her,' he says, 'not sure if I'm going to be a single man when she gets home, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.'

Setting the clothes down on the desk, Ghost stands up, picking the green cotton frock up from off of the table holding it out.

'I've never seen her in it,' Kyle says, 'don't even think she remembers having the thing, so she can't be upset about it if she completely forgot it existed, right?'

'Affirmative,' Ghost responds, 'wouldn't be too sure about it, though. She has an eye for the strangest things,' he warns, to which he laughs.

'You're right with that,' he says, 'I saw the Captain while I was out, he was comin' back from checking on the siren, told me to ask you if you're alright taking the girl in until she can remember what day it is; we can't leave her alone.'

He feels his chest tighten as he looks to you, seeing you peaceful sleep as you turn under the covers, your bare arm over your covered torso. 'You're the only one without someone... not too sure how—'

'I'll do it,' he says keeping his eyes trained on you.

Kyle looks at him with wide eyes.

'Well, she has no money does she? Not like an inn keeper is gonna give up a room for her, and I don't want to pay out of pocket to house her when she can just stay at my place.'

The man in front of him grins brightly.

'She'll hardly be any trouble, I'm sure of it,' he reassures, leaning against the desk, 'did she say anything else to you after I left?'

'She was with her sister on a ship heading somewhere to meet her sisters husband and that's then a storm hit and the ship was swallowed by the sea,' he says, 'she didn't say much, too out of it to really make much sense of the world around her.'

'Poor thing,' Gaz sighs, looking at Ghost, 'be nice to her, hey?'

'Wasn't planning on bein' cruel to her.'

'Good, good,' Kyle nods, 'Price told me to tell you that y' can have the rest of the day off if you get her out of the station, by the way. Take her home, get her something proper to eat and see if she wants to talk about it- he's sending something out to other villages to see if they have anyone who fits her description.'

'Doubt there'll be any news back for a while,' he says, approaching you, 'they don't care much for their own.'

His hand rests upon your shoulder and you grunt.

'I'll leave you to it,' Gaz calls from behind Ghost, 'gonna go and try and catch up with Johnny on patrols, doubt my lady would be too pleased with seein' another girl naked,' he chuckles, heading towards the door.

Waiting until the door is closed, Ghost proceeds to crouch down in front of you, rough hand nudging you again.

Your eyes crack open, a startled gasp escaping as you're greeted with the sight of his bone mask right in front of your face.

He feels you tense in his hands.

'Didn't mean to scare you,' he says, 'got you some clothes to keep people from starin' at you love, and then you're coming back to my place,' he explains.

His voice is softer than the tone he held with you prior and you swallow hard.

'Your place,' you croak, your face burning red from the sudden scare from your sleep.

'Yeah; until you're back on your feet and until that head of yours start workin' you're gonna have to stay here,' he explains, 'Price has sent messages out to local villages, see if any family members pick it up.'

Your face falters.

You're going to be here a while.

'Gaz got you some clothes,' he says, motioning over to the table.

Pushing yourself up, you manage to move your legs so your feet are planted against the floor. Ghost averts his eyes away from you, turning away. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you look at the ground at your feet.

Surely it's not that difficult.

Pushing your self up off of the bed, you take a short breath, your legs wobbling as you land back onto the bed.

Despite being gifted the ability of legs, you find it quite pointless that you cannot use them. The water is much easier to navigate than the land is, that much you're sure of.

Looking up at the man in front of you, you let out a small breath.

'Can you help me?' you ask.

He doesn't bother saying anything to you, simply walking over to the table with the dress on it, it's an ugly green colour and you catch yourself grimacing at the fabric. Though, as soon as his eyes are on you, the sneer on your face fades away.

He's rough in the way he pulls the dress over your head, though you manage to get your arms through the sleeves with ease. It's an odd feeling, feeling the fabric against your skin, the elastic cuffs of the sleeves clinging to your arms.

Helping you to your feet, you stagger forward, your face growing red as you grab his arms for some form of support. Yet, he doesn't move, he doesn't even flinch, busying himself with pulling the skirt down, it stopping mid-thigh.

Your legs tremble as you wince, you grip growing tighter on him as you fight to stay on your feet.

'Guess I haven't quite found my footing after the accident,' you awkwardly laugh, wishing to be relieved of this torture.

Your face is beat red as you continue to curse the moon for putting you in such a position, cursing the your words during that night.

Leading you back down onto the bed, you're quick to let go of his arms as he looks at you. He knows you're not going to be able to walk to his house, and he fights off the urge to huff.

There's something so simple yet so difficult about the task... he's a fucking lieutenant in the village guard and he's been put on babysitting duties.

Be nice to her, hey?

Kyle's voice is like a dagger through his skull, and even though you can't see his face under the mask, he musters up a tight-lipped smile, swallowing all his pride for himself and his position.

'I'll carry you.'

Neither of you are happy about this, though a tight-lipped smile of your own appears on your face.

'Great... thanks.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

His home is humble, quaint, tucked away in a quiet pocket of town.

Pushing open the door, he tilts his head towards the entrance of the house. With uneasy feet, you wobble as you take a step up into his house, his hand grabbing your forearm when you nearly loose balance.

During the course of your travels, you had fought against him, insisting after catching people staring at you for him to put you down and let you walk freely.

At first, he doesn't listen, keeping his eyes trained on the path in front of him, though, fortunately, he relented after you started to squirm in his arms.

It was difficult at first, but you got the hang of it... as long as his arm was around your waist.

It finds its way back around your waist for a short moment as he helps you up the steps.

'Careful,' he utters.

'Thanks,' you respond, holding the sides of the doorframes as you walk into the living room.

It's a quaint and simple little space, although, your cove is much better than this place. Yet, you suppose you cannot be picky while undercover, his hospitality rendering you speechless.

The mystery of the red moon and her tide is still very much fresh and new, you know you must not do something to compromise your safety or your chances of finding Serelia.

Even if it is resulting in you finding shelter in a man with a skull masks home.

Pulling his hood from off of his head head, he shrugged his cloak from off of his shoulders, hanging it up on a wooden stand placed beside the door.

You stand and watch, your arms pressed to your side, still trying to understand how exactly humans manage to stand so straight on their legs.

He turns to look at you, you see his eyes shift under his mask, 'it's not much, and you're going to have to be okay with sleeping on the couch.'

'Much more than what I have right now,' you respond with a soft smile on your face.

'Thank you, Ghost,' you say

'Of course,' he says with a short nod, 'you can help yourself to whatever you want, all I ask from you is to keep out of my room.'

'I can do that,' you reassure, nodding your head.

He doubts you'll even be able to climb the stairs as he can only liken the way you're walking to that of a baby deer learning how to walk for the first time.

He can't complain however; it's entertaining to watch you, and he does so as you make your way over to your new bed, holding your arms out either side to balance yourself before toppling onto the couch with a large exhale.

Sometimes his limited compassion still manages to get him into terrible situations, and as he looks at you, he can't help but worry about what he has gotten himself in for.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After spending some necessary time in his home, you eventually find your feet... both literally and figuratively.

It's difficult for you to stay confined to the four walls of his house, granted, you don't really do much and find joy during your first day there reading through an old shabby collection of books on his shelf.

There's nothing interesting, and you're unsure as to whether or not he himself has read any of them as when you open one, you sneeze from the amount of dust covering it.

It's a fun past time you find, especially during the few attempts of being more steady on your feet. The moon must have heard your complaints as, during the second day, you're nearly unstoppable, aside from the burning in your calves each time you take a step forward.

By the third day, you're almost sprinting out of the house into the village.

It's difficult to adjust to first.

The land is unknown to you, yet, you don't threat.

Instead, you search the village high and low, walking into every store, listening to every conversation of the locals in the village. You feel your skin crawl whenever you hear their laughter, though, it's as though talk of the siren has disappeared completely.

From spending time reading in the library to simply perusing the streets, you're wounded by the lack of information.

Why isn't anyone talking about her? Surely they know where she is; humans hate us and they'll want us gone for the issues we've caused.

The question follows you for a while, only stopping when you see the door open during your fifth night of staying inside Ghost's home.

He appears tired and as his hand moves to his cloak, he quickly stops himself from pulling it down when he sees you in front of him.

It's an odd thing, you've observed him over the past few days, and not once has he shown his face.

Still, you don't care for his habits as you open your mouth over dinner after swallowing a mouthful of food. Your hands is grabbing for the water next to your plate as you state, 'how come no one in town is mentioning the siren anymore?'

He looks at you, chewing under his mask which he holds up after each bite. 'Price has made it a rule,' he states, 'Lords out of town right now on business, until he comes back, we have to hold her per his request,' he explains, 'we've gotta keep her safe and if anyone is heard discussin' her, he's treating it as though it's treason.'

You offer a short nod, going back to eating your food.

'Why?' he eventually asks.

'I just thought, with something as big as this discovery, it would be the talk of the town for years,' you say, 'I thought it was strange, that's all.'

The look he gives you makes you think that he doesn't quite believe what you're saying to him, though, he doesn't press on the matter, going back to eating his dinner.

It's strange to spend time with a human, especially living with them.

He doesn't speak much, only really talking to you at dinner time or greeting you after returning from his shifts around the village to make sure everything is in check.

'You can take the mask off, you know,' you say, observing his discomfort, 'your identity doesn't make a difference to me, besides... this is your home,' you say softy.

Truthfully, the mask is just as much as an annoyance to him as it is to you.

Surprisingly, he listens to your words, pulling the mask tied around the back of his head off of his face allowing you to see his mouth.

Really, he does even know why he committed so long to wearing the stupid thing, growing especially frustrated as dinner grew to be more of a chore than something of enjoyment.

Old habits die hard, he supposes, and the habit of wearing around you died that night thanks to your comment.

While eating, he attempts to ignore your eyes on him, though he is far too aware that you're staring at him, not missing the way your cheeks have a light tinge of red to them.

Grinning to himself, he shakes his head at a crude thought that suddenly pops into his mind, narrowing his eyes as he lifts his head to look at you.

You drop your head immediately, focusing much more on your food than on him, though your embarrassment is difficult to miss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Simon seems warmer to you after you've been at his house for a little longer. The longer time passes by, the more trips you're taking to the ocean.

It started with one in the early morning, although, you find yourself walking there at the beginning of every day all to talk to the waves, hoping you'll see the familiar face of one of your sisters in the water. Yet, you don't.

Part of you is happy with this fact, not wanting them to see you in such a state wearing the ugly green frock, the only thing you own aside from a pair of sandals which Ghost brought with him upon returning from a shift.

On occasion, you bump into one of the men you saw when you first stop at the station. You learn that MacTavish's name is actually Johnny, and Gaz, the man who found you on the beach, is named Kyle.

They stop to talk to you for a while, sometimes walking with you to the beach where they speak with you.

Nothing interesting really comes from the conversations until, a month into your stay in the village, Johnny blabbers a little too much.

'He enjoys your company, bonnie,' he confesses after complimenting your new pink dress Simon bought you, 'was telling me that he's enjoying giving you little gifts and having you with him for dinner. I'm tellin' you, he like you more than you think.'

'How can he like me when I don't do anything but steal his food and sleep on his couch?'

'Couldn't tell ya, lass, strange man is our Simon.'

You hold your breath.

'Simon?' you ask slowly, a smile creeping on your face.

He slaps a hand over his mouth, his face growing red.

'His names Simon?' you ask, craning your neck forward to look at the blushing mans face.

'Forget I said anything,' he demands, rubbing his face with his hand. 'Please,' he almost begs. 'What I mean to say, lass, is that he does like you, and if you haven't thought of doing something for him, maybe consider it.'

His words follow you into the nighttime as you're helping Simon cook.

It's been something you've been doing for a while, intrigue taking you down the strangest path.

'My mum used to make this soup,' he explains, 'the recipe for it is somewhere, I don't know where it's gone though. It was great for nights like there.'

You hear a bell chime in your ears, thinking back to Johnny's words. Simon doesn't miss the smile on your face.

'What? What did I say?'

'Nothing, Sim-'

You freeze.

The pair of you stare at each other.

'Ghost, I mean Ghost!' you exclaim, holding your hands up, realising that you have most definitely gotten poor Johnny in a hell of a lot of trouble.

'Johnny told you didn't he?'

'He slipped up while he was talking to me today, he didn't mean it and I'm sorry if-'

'Say my name,' he cuts you off quickly and your eyebrows furrow.

'Simon?'

He grins to himself, turning his head away acting as though you have just done him the greatest act of service. 'I like how it sounds when you say it,' he says, going back to chopping up the vegetables, 'much better than Ghost.'

Redness spreads to your cheeks as you admire the look of joy on his face, finding that you want to do that more in order to see that look on his face.

So, as you're eating dinner that night, and even when you're lying on the sofa, you scheme like a criminal.

You toss and turn before you eventually get up and begin your search. Holding a lit candle, your eyes scan through his shelves looking high and low.

You spend what must be hours flicking through books, moving things, looking under the sofa, attempting to squint your eyes to look through floorboard before you find it tucked between the countertop and stove in the kitchen.

Only then can you rest easy, your eyes closing as you think about the mission you have got to complete tomorrow.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Walking through the bustling village main street, you listen to the bright tunes of the surrounding marketplaces, small stalls on either corner of the street, pushing everyone on the main road closer together.

You brush shoulders with a few people, keeping your arms out in front of you as you walk with a basket in front of you, the gold coins Simon has given you per your request rattling in your other hand.

It's rare you're outside as you spend most of your times in the library or back at Simon's home. Though nothing is going to stop you from making Simon the soup he mentioned last night.

Your heart flutters at the thought of how much he has done for you, and as a form of a thank you, you're going through the crumpled up recipe you stole from out of his kitchen, going to different stalls to get the things you need for the recipe.

The trip renders you exhausted, and by the time you're back at his house, you're fighting against sleep as you chop up the vegetable, putting them into the pot. You're unsure if you're doing it right, although, the longer you leave it to simmer, the more it takes the shape of something edible... you suppose.

You keep it on the stove until you hear the door open, and whether or not it tastes good, you're fine enough with the delightful smell that is exuding from the pot on the stove, looking in the direction of the door as it opens and Simon steps into the room.

'You're back,' you cheer, dropping the wooden spoon in the pot, approaching him.

The door shuts and he pulls his takes his hat from off of his head, pulling off his mask.

A crooked smile greets your eyes.

'What's all this?' he asks, his arms resting on your shoulders. It's common now, him touching you, and you sink into his hold on you with a sigh.

'Well, I thought you'd appreciate me making dinner for you,' you say sweetly, grabbing his hands, pulling him through into the kitchen, motioning to the table set. 'Also, you mentioned the old recipe your mum used to make for you, so, I thought I'd try my hand at it, see if I'm a good cook or not.'

He lets out a small ‘hm' as he grabs two bowls from out of the cupboards, placing them down on the countertop beside the stove. His hand hand is touching the small of your back as he grabs hold of the wooden spoon you left in the pot, tugging down the black mask covering his nose and mouth.

You watch, holding your breath as you await his reaction.

'Is it terrible?' you quietly as, looking on his face for any form of reaction, yet, he's unmoved. 'We can get something else to eat if it's really terrible,' you offer, pushing down the cuticles on your nails as you keep your eyes on him.

Setting the spoon back into the pot, he exhales. 'Needs a tad bit more salt, sweetheart,' he gently says, 'but considering this is your first time making it, I think you've done a pretty good job, hey?'

You can't stop yourself from smiling at his gentle words, feeling the warmth of his large hand pressing against your back as he reaches beside the stove, grabbing a salt shaker. 'A little more practice and I think I'm going to have my own personal chef,' he comments, adding some more salt into the soup.

Grabbing the spoon, you stir the mixture, scooping up another spoonful, holding it out to him with your hand underneath it, 'how's it now?'

His eyes are on you as he places his mouth against the spoon.

'Much better,' he says with a smile, 'go sit down, I'll do this.'

'Are you sure?' you ask, feeling him move his hand from off of your back. He gives you a short nod.

'Don't want you to burn yourself, go sit down.'

Over dinner, you share brief words, but it is in the silence and the company of him that you find you're most at peace.

There's nothing from either of you, and you take time to eat the soup you have been working on all day. It's okay, a little on the watery side, and you do think that Simon is still definitely a much better cook that you.

He thinks the soup tastes a tad funny, but he doesn't say it to you.

Such thoughts leave the pair of you to sit together, silently thinking about each other, yet not having the heart to disrupt the peaceful silence.

After dinner, you attempt to help him clean up, only, he refuses your help, requesting you stay in the living room.

'Simon you always do stuff for me,' you whine with a huff, 'let me help you- washing a dish isn't gonna kill me, y'know?

'I have a surprise for you and you're not going to get it if you keep going against what I've asked of you,' he warns, 'be a good girl for me, yeah? Go sit down, I'll be right through and you can have your gift.'

Suddenly, it's like your legs don't work anymore.

Knees almost buckling at his words, you gulp hard, managing out a short breath as you nod your head, not saying another word to him as you approach the living room, taking a seat on the plush sofa, sinking into one of the many black cushions.

Pressing your face into your cupped hands, you fight off the urge to scream at the very fact he only has to speak to you and you melt like butter in a pan.

Death would be easier than this.

Eventually, he reappears holding a box in his hands. Setting it down on your lap, you smile at the sight of a white ribbon tied into a bow. It's a charming sight, and you fight off the urge to rest your head on his shoulder as he sits next to you.

'You didn't have to,' you whisper.

'Well, you don't have many dresses, sweetheart,' he comments, 'my mum would have my head if she found out you only had two dresses,' he said with a short chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he sighs, 'I saw it the other day, been trying think of a good time to give it to you.'

Carefully, you untie the ribbon, pulling the top of the box off, setting it aside.

Peering up at you is a white cotton frock. Small flowers stitched into the open neck of the dress.

Pulling it out, you hold it out in front of you, letting out a squeal as you see the fabric touching all the way to the ground.

You jump into his lap, pressing a firm kiss onto his cheek.

'I love it!' you exclaim, holding the dress to your chest, before quickly pushing yourself off of him, shrugging off the sleeves of the green frock you've had since arriving in the village. 'I don't even wanna wait to try it,' you say brightly.

He watches amused as the fabric falls from off of your body, pooling around your feet. You're unapologetic of your appearance, tits on full show without a single care in the world.

Pulling the white dress over your head, you wiggle your hips as it hugs your waist, covering your legs.

He watches you, his hands on his thighs as you clumsily spin around in a circle, your skirt raising as you do so. 'What do you think?' you ask, 'does it look nice?'

He exhales deeply.

'Was made for you, sweetheart,' he replies with a bright grin on his face, 'gimme another spin.'

Your cheeks flush red, though you comply, your heart swelling at the request.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the midst of the night is where you roam free, walking through the streets of the village, treading down to the shore all to sit by the water. You watch as the waves roll in with a joyous glint in your eye, knowing home is right at your fingertips.

But oddly, you find home is also on land in the form of your sister and the tall man with a strange mask.

The very thought of him makes you feel nauseous, the thought of him washing all your sentence just as the waves do the shore.

Dinner tonight was almost too much for you to handle, to have someone so close to you, to feel his hand on your back and to hear the humans terms of affection leave his mouth with the intent of the meeting your ears... everything.

You blame the dress you're wearing too.

You feel like you're betraying the words of your dear mother.

She has warned you time and time again of the dangers of the human folk, and here you are, wearing their legs, missing your tail and your vibrant scales, yet, prepared to throw it all away all to hear him utter your name and call you sweetheart just one more time.

All that for a human who doesn't even know the truth of who you are.

'I thought you were here,' you hear a voice call from behind you, almost submerged in the crashing waves.

Turning your head, you see Simon approaching you, his boots leaving prints in the sand.

Stopping beside you, you turn your head as he sits beside you. 'Why 'ave you come all the way out here at this time?'

'Needed some fresh air,' you mumble, resting your chin against your knees, hugging your legs.

'You'll find her again,' he says.

Your blood runs cold.

'Sure that siren saved her just as she saved you, yeah? You'll be with her again some day soon, and who knows, maybe she's become one of them herself.'

'She'd like that,' you whisper, looking at the tide.

I'd like that too.

'Until you know where she is or receive a letter from home, you're stuck with me,' he says, 'sorry.'

You laugh.

'You've been the thing to keep me sane through all this, Si',' you reassure, 'without you I would've lost my mind. I need you, and what you've done for me means more than anything any else has ever done for me.'

'Thank you,' he speaks with his chest, you can hear the smile on his face as he speaks. 'I've enjoyed the company, it's nice to have someone to come home to, makes a change from the constant silence, gets me down sometimes.'

You will die before he is ever alone again, you're convinced.

Letting go of your legs, you pull away from the shore, moving towards him.

The light of the moon bouncing off of the water illuminates his features deliciously and you can't help but think of how he would look beneath the water where the pair of you could live out your days together.

Placing his hand on your knee, you rest your head against his firm shoulder, letting out a small breath as you look out onto the sea.

'Do you want to go back home to your village?' he asks.

'I don't have attachments to places, only people,' you respond, 'doesn't matter where I am as long as I have the people I care about with me- and if they wish to go somewhere else, then I'll will let them to do so.'

'So, when your sister finds you, you're gonna go back home?' he quietly asks, looking at the calm water.

'I don't know,' you say, 'so used to having you with me, and she's found her love now, she doesn't need me anymore. If she even is still alive that is.'

Leaning into the narrative is bruising, and in his silence you sit and think about whether or not you would return to the sea once you finally know that Serelia is safe.

These are the people who have hurt her, the man beside you is keeping her from you, yet, there you are in his arms, seeking comfort in the idea of living out the rest of your life at his side.

Really, you should want to put the entirety of the village under water.

'I want you to stay,' he quietly confesses, 'too used to y' now,' don't think I could go back to normal if you left.'

The feeling of nausea hits you again.

'I wouldn't know what to do with myself,' you say, feeling his grip on your knee tighten.

He holds his breath and you turn to look at him. Half lidded eyes stare back at you, and you find your hand reaching out to slip beneath the mask of the skull on his face, hooking your fingers beneath the fabric of the mask.

'Can I?'

He looks at you, though says nothing.

As you pull your hand away from his face, he pulls the hood down off of his head, undoing the tie around the skull mask on his face, allowing it to fall onto his lap.

Pulling the mask down, allowing it to pool around his neck, he looks you in the eyes. You stare back, settling your hand against his cheek. As you listen to the calmness of the water and under the watching eyes of the moon, you have little issue in leaning in closer.

His hand finds the back of your head as your lips ghost each others and you can feel hit hot breath fanning against your mouth.

'Am I gonna regret this?' you asks.

'You might,' he replies, 'but I won't judge you for it if y' do.'

Your breaths mingle as your lips finally meet, a soft and hesitant connection which sends shivers down your spine. Its delicate, the feeling of his mouth against yours as he holds you as though you're seconds away from turning to ash, leaving him forever.

And while your lips were against his, the thought of doing such doesn't cross your mind.

Not even once.

Upon returning to his house, you walk past the couch you have been lying on, his hand on the small of your back pulling you past, guiding you up the stairs to his bedroom.

Nothing like what you have read happens, instead, he helps you out of your dress, leaving you in your panties. You ask for nothing from him as you climb into his bed as he undresses.

It's intimate, the feeling of his hot flesh against yours setting a light afire in your stomach as you curl into his side, just as you curled into your cove hidden within the depths of the sea.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Days progress and your search for Serelia quells as you keep an open ear on the talks of the city folk.

You could have ended all of this a lot sooner with a song, louring all of them into the water to give you an ample opportunity, but you haven't.

Some other time you would have, though, you've heard your voice while humming a song as you clean your flesh in the mornings, and it's devoid of the deepness to travel as far as it did while sitting upon the rocks on the sea.

She is still alive and well wherever she is, and you're quite sure she has been moved around quite a bit as a safety precaution, and with Price's willingness to keep her from the wrath of the village folk, you know that at least some of the men in the village are good.

The more days roll on, the softer the touches from Simon grow, and as you're sitting in the village library again, holding a book in your lap, your fingers trace over the words written, leaving your words caught in your throat.

Reading has been the one thing to keep you from the curse of whatever has happened to you, and you find the stories written by humans to be quite amusing.

Perilous speculation at it's finest! Your favourite.

Though, you find it's difficult to breathe as you progress further and further through the books in the library until you were greeted with one covered in dust.

The lady didn't see you pull it off of the shelf when you did, and as the sky grows orange before eventually fading to darkness, you're unaware of the change in workers as you press your thighs together, hot breath fanning against the pages of the book.

Only, it's not the story that has you blushing.

Rather, your own thoughts as you replace the characters in your head, seeing the same set of eyes that have been greeting you for the past week while waking up.

It's wrong and it's dirty, but you can't help but think of him.

Perhaps this is simply how humans show affection, and it's not like you haven't been close to doing it; your bare breasts have been pushed against his chest when the pair of you wake in the dawn, and neither of you have moved an inch during the closeness, relishing in the closeness.

'I've got work, love.'

'I don't care, too comfy for you to leave me.'

Your mouth grows dry as you contemplate whether or not he has thought of you in a similar manner, if the thoughts carry onwards to his mind from your own, or if he sees you in a different manner.

A voice calls out your name, the flame of the candle on the table beside you causing you to jump, and as you look up, you're quick to slam the book shut, clearing your throat as you tightly smile at the man standing in front of you.

'Scared me,' he says to you, 'I thought you were home.'

'I got bored,' you shakily say, gripping the book in your hand tightly, holding it as you push your chair in, 'I got caught up reading.'

Even though you try to keep the book out of his view, you find he doesn't care about the stupid collection of pages, his eyes dragging down your body as though they're scanning for any source of possible harm.

'I'm fine, Si',' you whisper.

He nods shortly, 'c'mon, it's late and you need to eat,' he says, stepping to the side, allowing you past.

Keeping hold of the book, you walk along side the man and out of the library.

'You didn't have to drag me out, y'know?' you ask, walking alongside him.

His eyes fall on you, you know it without even looking at him, your eyes scanning over the words in the book, 'could've left me in the library to live with the books, let the pots of colours ink stain my skin and cover me up. Wouldn't have bothered you every again.'

The book is ripped from your hands, slamming shut as the man standing beside you takes it off of you.

'Strange woman,' he remarks, keeping the book in his right hand as you proceed to walk through the town.

Your frustration is obvious but he clearly doesn't care, you see the way his face settles beneath the mask.

'Strange man,' you remark, 'walking around the village with a skull mask on, especially in the dark.'

He only grunts in response to your words, pulling your book in front of him, looking at the title with a raised brow. 'Saccharine?'

He looks at you with a look telling that he knows what's beyond the pages, the possibility of such making your cheeks flare red as he flicks through the pages.

'What's it about?'

'Uhm,' you look at him with weary eyes, 'it's an... adventure.'

He nods his head.

'An adventure,' he says, eyes scrolling down the page he lands on, reading aloud, ''use that pretty mouth of yours for me, sweetheart, tell me what y' want,' he grunts, watching her squirm below him.''

Your face is bright red.

'Something fuckin' adventure that is, huh?' he barks out a laugh, as you elbow him in the side, snatching the book out of his hands. 'You dirty thing reading that out in public,' he mocks, your throat growing dry as you look at him.

'Shut up,' you grumble, slamming the book shut.

His laughter doesn't cease as you head towards his home, 'maybe I should have left you in the library by yourself.'

You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, longing for the cold ocean to reach right into the village and pluck you right from his side, placing you right back into the ocean.

Grabbing his key from out of his pocket, he heads up the steps to his house. You don't miss the glance he gives you.

'Who says I can't sort it out here?' you ask.

The keys fall from out of his hand.

Reaching down, you snag them before he can even muster the strength to breathe after the comment you've just made.

'You'd have an audience,' he says, grabbing your waist as you put his key into the door, turning it.

'I don't care,' you whisper, placing your hand against his cheek, 'especially if it's you.'

You don't quite process what happens until his lips are pressed against yours, the pair of you clumsily stumbling into his house, a giggle escaping you as he keeps you pressed against him.

The next couple of minutes are lost to clumsy steps, giggles and kisses as the pair of you waste no time rushing towards his bedroom.

Somewhere along the line, your dress is discarded, as is his shirt, all for it to be put on you as you sit in his lap clumsily doing up the buttons as the cuffs fall past your hands.

It's an alien feeling, the feeling on someone's lips against yours despite all the chaste kisses you have shared during sleepy mornings, and as he grabs you with greedy hands, you feel yourself melting into his hold, pressing your chest against his as you stifle out a short sound in delight.

You're unsure what exactly the sound was as it's muffled by your lips pressing against one another's, your hands clutching at his shoulders as his hand holds the small of your waist.

You feel the little muscle in your chest flutter as he tilts your head slightly with his other hand, deepening the kiss.

Keeping your eyes close, you feel as though you are one with the tide of the ocean, your limbs become that of liquid, flowing with whatever he wills as you fall apart in his arms.

Your firm grasp against his shoulders melts away as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck, your chest growing tighter as it grows harder to find gasps to take a breath from the kiss.

Placing another kiss against your plush lips, he pulls away, placing his hand against your cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, letting out a gentle sigh as he looks at you.

Such gentleness is unheard of, no man should be so kind, yet, here he is, holding you as though you're the most fragile seashell on the seashore, intending to hold you close to keep you as a memory.

There's an odd heat flooding your stomach when he pulls away, a pulsing in the area you're somewhat familiar with. It's a dull ache, a bruising urge and you began to squirm in his lap in an attempt to chase the feeling away.

The feeling of his pants against you brings a satisfying wave over your body, willing to continue squirming in his lap in the hopes to find some form of quick fix. A breathy whimper escapes you as you continue to grind hopelessly in his lap, chasing after the release you so crave.

Only, your his are grabbed by his hands, as he holds you in place, grunting.

'Hurts,' you grumble, your hands falling to grab his wrists in an attempt to pull them away. Yet, his hold on you persists, keeping you firmly in place.

'Please,' it escapes your lips before you even understand what it is that you're begging for, though there's something that you can only describe as longing to extinguish the fiery blaze in the pit of your stomach.

You continue to fight against his hold on your hips, you lips pressing together in an unhappy manner.

There's a glint you spy as desire in his eyes, though, much to your displeasure, he keeps himself from acting on whatever that particular desire is, leaving you teary eyed in his lap.

'Sweetheart,' Simon breathes, shaking his head, 'hey, hey, it's alright, what are you getting teary eyed f'r? Haven't hurt you, have I?' he asks as your try to blink back the tears forming in your eyes. You're frustrated, unable to tell him what exactly you want because, truthfully, you've only read about such in the books in the library during the times he was busy with work.

All of it is new, and you wish for the blessing of experience you wash over you as you look at him with a lingering frustration.

'No,' you say, 'it's not that, it's that I...' you're unsure what to say, so, you let go of his wrist, lifting your hips as you look him in the eyes, placing a hand against your core.

He looks at you with a crooked smile when he finally catches onto what exactly it is, and all you can muster, in pathetic whisper is, 'need you.'

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you're relieved when one of his hands is pulled from off of your hip as he gently moves his hand against you, cupping your cunt, pressing his thumb up in a particular spot.

You let out a whimper at the strange, yet welcome sensation, noting how his hand is far better than your own.

There should be something shameful about this, only you push into his hold, hoping he returns your enthusiasm.

It's in his arms you feel the most safe you have ever felt, even the tide of the ocean cannot compare to him in this moment as he pulls you loser, looking upon you with moons for eyes, conveying the idea that, maybe, he does think you're the prettiest thing he has ever set his eyes on.

Your back is pressed against the bed, the absence of his touch like a dagger through your heart. He looms over you, arms either side of your head. The lack of light, the flickering flame of the candle and the beams of light from moon shooting through the window render you speechless as you look at him.

'My pretty girl,' he utters underneath his breath, his hand brushing under the cotton shirt, moving further up your skin. Goosebumps form on your flesh as he does so, cheeks red the longer he keeps his eyes on you. 'Made with wind an' sea, you are,' he says, brushing his hand down your stomach, resting it against your pubic bone as he looks you. 'Tell me what you want, sweetheart.'

Opening your legs for him, you muster up a small whimper, looking him in the eyes, 'want you to touch me,' you quietly say, 'please, Si', need you to make me feel better,' you beg, feeling as though you're seconds away from collapsing.

A breath escapes you as he pushes your panties to the side, trailing his fingers up and down your folds with a groan.

There's a distinctive wet noise as he does so, spreading your cunt open with two fingers. Looking down between the valley between your breasts, you swallow hard at the sight of him touching you, jolting when his fingers brush against your clit.

It's unlike anything you've ever experienced.

Continuing in a fluid motion, your back arches as pretty moans escape your mouth, writhing beneath him. The heat in your stomach only grows as he does so.

'That's it, sweetheart,' he utters, sliding his fingers downwards, pressing one digit against your hole. 'Gonna be good for me an' take my fingers?' he asks, to which you eagerly nod your head.

'Y- Yes, please,' you respond, your back arching against the bed as he pushes a finger into you.

An odd stinging sensation causes a tear to slip past your eye as you fist the sheets below you, letting out a small sob. He pauses, you catch the orange light from the candle in his eyes as his mouth falls.

Then, you begin to feel him pull away.

'No,' you quickly exclaim, 'no, no, don't pull away, it's just...' you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, 'I've never done this before.'

He looks at you with wild eyes as he expression softens. Leaning forward, he places his lips against your and you cup his face with both of your hands, your mouth falling open as he begins to thrust his finger in and out of you.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he sighs, 'I didn't know, love,' he confesses under his breath, 'I shouldn't have made assumptions—'

'It's not your fault, Si', you didn't know,' you reassures, 'but I don't want you to stop,' you say, toes curling as his finger presses against a spot which almost has you seeing colour.

The air in the room is hot, only growing when you see a crooked smirk on his face as a crude squelch sounds.

You feel another finger against you.

'Gonna make sure your pretty cunt is taken care of,' he says, 'won't want anyone else after you've had me,' he utters, pushing another finger into you.

It burns for a moment, the stretch aching, yet working to contribute to the cord tightening in your stomach.

You're unsure as to what to expect as a delicious heat envelopes yous body, clumsy hands letting go of his face, moving to his shoulders. More tears slip down your cheeks, a loud moan escaping you as both his finger brush against a spot which has you falling apart in his hold.

You expect him to relent, though, he positions his fingers to proceed to hit that spot. By now you're a babbling mess under him, all the while he's grinning at the pretty mess you're becoming, soaking his fingers as you edge closer and closer to the edge.

You're not going to last much longer, he knows such as you clench around his fingers, his cock hardening at the very thought of having that pretty pussy around him.

There's a panic in your eyes as you edge closer to the edge, so he presses a chaste kiss against your lips, 'you're okay, princess,' you gently says, let go, cum for me, cum around my fingers, let me see how pretty you look,' he says, cautious not to make a demand as he continues to work his fingers into you, stretching you out.

Your chest heaves as you screw your eyes shut, your muscles tensing as you find yourself bracing for the coil in your stomach to snap.

It's odd to be scared of something that is making you feel so good, and you relax realising you're in his arms.

Your thighs begin to tremble as you let out small moans, drool trailing down your chin as you press your head back into his pillow, the heat in your stomach dispersing, crashing down into a pleasurable wave which has you almost sobbing.

Your hole clenches around Simon's finger, your entire body turning stiff as you stifle out a crude gasp, your orgasm washing over you. You watches as you completely fall apart, your juices flooding his fingers as you cum. 'That's it, you're okay,' he breathes, 'I got you, you're okay,' he reassures, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm.

Your raging breath steadily quells as he pulls his fingers out of you, sitting back on his thighs. Your hair is sticking your back as sweat soaks into the shirt you're working.

Whimpering, you watch as he presses the two digits he used to fuck you between his mouth, cleaning the mess you made of his hands with his tongue, letting out a short moan as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth, 'as sweet as honey,' he remarks, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt.

Instinctively, you close your legs, all for him to tut, placing his hands on your knees, pulling them open again.

'Prettiest cunt I've ever seen sweetheart,' he say, 'don't try and keep it from me, yeah? You're not gonna be cumming around anyone else's cock aside from mine; gonna ruing you, shape that pretty hole for my cock and my cock only,' he gruffly speaks.

You hear the shift of fabric.

Pulling his underwear off, he tosses it somewhere into the room, sifting upwards, a crude wet slap filling the room as he slaps his cock against your clit.

You let out a small yelp as the sensation, your cunt still marked with sensitivity from your orgasm. Though, as you feel the blunt head of his leaking cock between your folds, you find the heat returns with a vengeance, leaving your mouth dry as he presses himself against your hole.

'It's gonna hurt for a second,' he warns, grabbing your hip with his hand, 'just keep breathing for me, let that pretty pussy stretch around me- I'll give y' all the time you need, just tell me,' he utters.

His tone is much darker than any you've ever heard, and as he begins to push himself into you, your mouth closes as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip so hard that you're quite sure you're going to draw blood.

A filthy moan escapes your lovers lips as he pushes into, the heat around his cock making it hard to keep a clear mind as the longing to fuck you until you're sobbing possesses him.

It won't take much, he knows that, counting on the fact that he's not even half way in and tears are already pouring down your cheeks.

Gripping your hips, he eases himself in to the hilt, moaning as you clench around his cock.

'Good fuckin' girl,' he curses, his nails digging into your skin as you wince. Never have you felt so full, feeling his cock pulsing in your core as you squirm beneath him.

Without even moving, you're sure he's pressing against that spot that brought you to your release just moments prior, you stomach twisting.

I'm not going to last.

Your legs merely wrap around his waist as he looks to you, and with a trembling mouth, you nod your head, 'y- you can move,' you say with a small nod, hissing as he pulls out, only to thrust back in.

Your skin is hot as sweat drips down your silky flesh, pushing downwards to meet his thrusts as he picks up the pace. The sound of you skin slapping together is vulgar, though neither of you care as you burble out weak 'ahs' under your breath as he drives his cock into you. Simon isn't quiet either, vocal grunts through gritted teeth as his bruising grip on you maintains a steady pace.

'Fuuuckkk,' he moans, grabbing the bottom of his shirt, ripping it open. You offer him as startled look as he drags his blunt nails up your stomach, grabbing your tits, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 'Prettiest fuckin' girl to ever walk the land,' he claims, 'made for me and my cock, and it's all mine, isn't it?'

'A- All yours,' you confirm, unable to keep a sane mind about you as he's fucking you dumb.

All your mind is sticking to is the thickness off his cock as it's hitting all the right spots. You're sure you're drooling from the sensation, your eyes falling back into your head as you babble out nonsense.

'No one else's,' you manage to get out before you're completely at his disposal, the feel of your next orgasm creeping up on you.

'You gonna cum for me again, princess?' Simon asks, greedily sucking in air as he looks at you, feeling your cunt clenching around him. He himself is edging closer to the edge, the tightness of you around his thick cock simply being too much to bear.

'Yes, 'm so close... so fucking close, please, please let me cum,' you dumbly beg, not able to keep the words from flowing past your lips.

'Go on, sweetheart, cum around my cock, make it yours,' he demands, his thrust growing much more sporadic as he chases after his own release.

A moan escapes your lips as you arch you back off of the bed, your entire body spasming as you allow yourself to fall into the pleasure of your orgasm as the cord in your stomach snaps, forcing a gasp out of you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob, tightening around his cock as you cum. The sound of your skin connecting is wet as Simon fucks you through your orgasm, his curses and grunts filling your ears.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's right sweetheart,' he moans, 'gonna make you mine, fill you up with my cum, no one else is having you, you're mine,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.

He lets out a moan as he fills you up.

It's a filthy feeling, but you love it terribly, your hole twitching as you feel his pulsing cock empty his load inside of you.

A short breath escapes him, and you moan feeling him push deeper inside of you, thrusting and out of you to ensure you're not missing a drop of it.

Remaining inside of you, he moves to lay beside you, keeping bodies pressed against you, the smell of sex and sweat in the clammy air of the room, but he doesn't even think of pulling out, let alone pulling away. Instead he settles with his cock inside out you, pressing another kiss against you.

Your eyes feel heavy, your entire body sluggish as you press your face into the crook of his neck.

'Good girl,' he utters against your skin.

You lay together for a short while before he eventually pulls his softening cock from out of you, you whimpering from oversensitivity as he does so. Your inner thighs are wet, and as your hole clenches around nothing, you're face grows red as you feel his cum dripping out of you.

He leaves you alone for a short while and you lay, your body blanketed in the moonlight. Beyond the window in his room, you spy the ocean in the distances, seeing the rolling waves, your throat tightening are your eyes move around the room, spying his side of the bed, then lifting back to the water.

You can't possibly stay here forever? Can you?

You have people, you have your sister still to find, getting no closer to having Simon confess to you where she is being kept.

When you uncover it eventually, what are you going to do? Free her and stay here? Will the even want you back when you return with the marks of a human all over you?

Your eyes water when he comes back into the room with a cup of water and a damp cloth in his hands, approaching you.

He sees the furrow of your brow and the discontent on your face, taking a seat beside you, pressing his hand against your face.

'I haven't hurt you have—'

'No, no,' you quietly state, sniffling, 'just...' you look at him, holding his wrist. 'I like you,' you whisper, his eyes growing wide at your confession, 'I- I know it's soon but—'

'I like you too, sweetheart,' he reassures, setting the cup of water down on the nightstand.

You rejoice in the outcome of your diversion, noting it works well as he looks at you with all the adoration the human heart can muster. 'Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Can't leave you like this,' he utters, to which you nod in appreciation.

The night is sleepless for the most part as you're in his arms. It's difficult to confess to yourself, but you're aware of the lies you have told and of the possible consequences to come from it.

Even if he isn't fearful of what you are, there's still the fact that the betrayal will be too great as, essentially, everything you have together is built on a lie, and you're only encouraging it through playing the role of human.

A part of you wishes to wake him from his current sleeping state and tell him, yet, you cower in the thought of conflict destroying the night the pair of you have shared.

So, you tell yourself that you'll tell him tomorrow instead before falling into the heat of his body, closing your eyes.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the morning you wake with a dull ache between your thighs, looking to the side of your bed.

Simon isn't there and you sit up quickly, eyes scanning around the room, a panicked breath squeezing out of your lung as you search for him.

Has he left for work already?

You feel an odd sense of betrayal well in your breast as you shuffle from under the sheets, stopping in your tracks when you hear the creak of the staircase leading into his room. His head appears first and you quickly fall back onto the bed, eying him.

'I thought you left for work,' you confess as he climbs the final step. He shakes his head, looking out of the window to the early morning sun. It covers his frame in a delicious light and you take a moment to admire him. How his white shirt settles against his chest, the mask on his face right back where it usually it.

It's a shame though; you want to see his blond hair in the light of the sun.

'I'm not that cruel, sweetheart,' he reassures, 'want you to come with me today; I'm sitting in the Station by myself while the other three do whatever, want some company with me,' he says, we'll stop by the library and bakery before we go there, I'll get you that pastry you like,' he offers, fixing the buckle of his belt, 'what do you think?'

Propping your head up with your hand, you look as hm with rosy cheeks and a bright grin on your face. 'Make me a cup of tea when we're in the station too?' you ask.

'If I must,' he says, laughing, moving towards one of the drawers in his bedroom, pulling it open.

Grabbing a dress and panties, walking up to you. Shifting in the bed, you push the sheets back, standing up, taking the panties from his hands.

Stepping into them, you look up to see him holding your dress, the skirt bunched up. 'Hold your arms up,' he instructs, to which you giggle at, but comply, holding your arms up.

Placing the fabric of the dress over your head, you slip your arms inside of the sleeves, as he kneels down in front of you, pushing his mask up slightly so he can press kisses onto your stomach as he lowers the skirt of the dress further and further down.

More laughter spills past you as you watch him with do so. The skirt reaches your ankles and he stands up, grasping your waist. 'Happy I got this dress for you,' he comments.

You quirk an eyebrow.

'I thought you said it was plain.'

'Nothing's plain when you're wearing it, sweetheart,' he responds, pressing a kiss onto your lips. You roll your eyes at his sappiness despite melting into his hold.

'You're an idiot,' you say.

'And you're slow,' he retorts, letting go of your waist, 'finish up getting ready and meet me downstairs, don't take too long; don't wanna be stuck in a queue at the bakery.'

'You're the reason—'

'Don't wanna hear it, princess,' he calls as he walks down the the stairs, leaving you alone in his bedroom, crossing your arms over yourself as you watch him disappear.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

He cannot take his eyes off of you as you sit in the station, stray crumbs of the pastry around your mouth as you babble on about one of the books you found in the library.

It never occurred to him until now that it's very much possible to be a love drunk fool, and he feels himself grinning under his mask as you speak with such passion, it's making him lightheaded. He has little understanding of what you're talking about, but that doesn't matter.

He sits and listens to you, only stopping you when he reaches out his hand, brushing away the clumsy flakes of pastry from around your mouth. You stare at him, eyes panning down to your skirt as you blush at the sight of golden flecks on the white fabric.

Brushing your hands over your covered thighs, you brush them away, looking back at him. Opening your mouth, you go to speak, all for your moment to come crashing down as Kyle barges into the Station.

Taking one look at the pair of you, he lets out a comically loud wretch, 'save it for the bedroom, please,' he breathes, closing the door behind him.

'What are you doin' back?' Simon asks, checking your face for any more crumbs, letting a small grunt when he's satisfied there are none, pulling his hand away from you. 'Thought you were going to be out all day.'

'I've been looking for Rhys,' he says, 'he's supposed to be keeping an eye on her and I haven't seen her, when I went to the cabin the door was locked, all the curtains were drawn too,' he explains, rubbing his head.

Your ears perk up with the mention of a cabin, glancing at Simon before back at Gaz.

She's in a cabin somewhere nearby and she's still alive.

Your heart settles with the thought.

'He couldn't have gone far,' Simon says, 'might've slept in or something- if something was wrong, he wouldn't disappear on us.'

'You're right,' Kyle says, closing the door behind him, 'he's a good kid, shouldn't be thinking badly of him in the first place, just difficult not to worry when he's usually there at the crack of dawn, you know?'

'Are people still demanding a trial?' you ask.

'Yeah,' Kyle responds, approaching the fireplace to the right of the bed you're sitting on, pulling the lid off of the kettle. Fortunately, Simon replenished it after making you both a mug of tea. 'We're trying to push it back; she's a nice girl from what I can tell, doesn't speak much though- to me at least,' he explains.

'Why don't you just let her go?'

'Letters from the Lords telling us we can't act until he's back home,' he says, 'unfortunately, we work for him. If it was up to me, she'd be back in the water; I think everything people are saying about her is nothing more than fairytales.'

You smile at his words; he's right, in terms of her, they are all fairytales.

If he's looking for the sirens from fairytales, he's already eyeing her as he talks to you.

'Do you want another cup of tea?' Kyle asks, looking at the pair of you. Simon shakes his head but you nod, though, before you can reach for your mug, it's taken from out of your reach as Simon holds it out for Kyle.

You give him a short look which he returns after handing your cup to to Kyle who busies himself with minding his business.

'You my servant now?' you ask.

'Can be if you want me to be,' he answers.

You roll your eyes, leaning your back against the wall, dusting the remnants of your breakfast off of your hands.

'You're sweet talk is making me sick,' Kyle calls, approaching you, carefully handing you your mug of tea, 'need some lessons in it, Simon,' he adds.

'Fuck off,' barks the man.

'I've got nothing to do so you're not getting rid of me for a while,' he says, 'I'm gonna stay here for a while before heading back up to the cabin, haven't had a moment to relax this morning,' he scoffs, 'could do with a moment of rest.'

Sitting forward, you move your legs off of the bed, allowing Kyle to take a seat beside you, sipping from your mug, 'there's always something to be doing,' he begins to complain, 'never a fuckin' quiet moment in this—'

The door to the station bursts open, slamming against the wall opposite.

'She's dead!'

The cup in your hand drops as you jolt from the sudden noise, the hot liquid merely missing your thighs as you shift out of the way, hearing the tea cup shattering as it meet with the stone floor.

You curse under your breath, looking at the mess you have made as you go to drop to the ground to clean it up, all for Kyle to shake it head while Simon stands up to address the man at the door.

'It's fine love,' reassures the man sweetly, 'you'll end up cuttin' your fingers, I'll clean it up,' he says, looking down at the shattered tea cup on the ground.

Frankly, you appreciate his kindness as you raise to your feet, looking around Simon's bulky frame to the man who scared you.

He's shaking as he speaks looking at Simon, his eyes blown wide, reflective of the surface of the moon as he tugs at his fingers while attempting to express the horrors of which he has witnessed.

'I left for the night, an' when I returned she was dead,' he says, 'bloody and beaten, whoever it was took all her scales, left them around the room like it's some sort of fuckin' confetti.'

Scales.

You're sure you hear Kyle yell, but you're unsure what he actually says.

There's anger in the young man's eyes, genuine emotion as he details every single gruesome detail of the scene.

Serelia.

The siren.

'W- Where?' you manage to get out, not caring if Simon is about to say something in response. 'Where is she?' you roughly demand.

The young man standing in front of you looks at you with wide eyes as you move in front of Simon.

Your lover doesn't say anything.

'Tell me!' you demand, grabbing his shirt.

'T- The cabin just beyond the Lords house,' he stutters.

Without much thought, you're rushing out of the station without any hesitation, rushing through the streets as your heart rages in your chest.

Your mind is racing with his confession, shoving past and barging shoulders with everyone as you push through the busy town square, staggering up the steps towards the direction of the Lords house.

You're aware of the man behind you; Simon never really did let you out of his sights, after all.

Everything seems so much smaller in your eyes as you stumble further and further up, tears flowing freely down your cheeks.

Perhaps it's some form of sick joke- she's okay, she's just playing dead; she's a smart girl, even having tricked you a few times.

She's okay- she's got to be okay.

You're in a fit of hysterics as you pull the door open to the small, reserved cabin.

There are footsteps behind you, a distant call for your name, only, when you pull the door open, you seek the sister you had lost that night on the shore. Still bleeding as she was when she had been taken despite her pleads for freedom, only, she isn't moving.

She lays on the wooden ground of the room, her hand open in your direction, as stray tear slipping down her face as her open, bruised eyes stare into nothingness.

You stand at the door, your bottom lip trembling as you scream out, 'SERELIA.'

Rushing up to her side, you collapse onto your knees, trembling hands hovering over her swollen body, blood seeping into your white frock as you simply sit and stare in horror.

Placing your hand against her cheek, you flinch at the icy feeling of her skin, trailing the tips of your fingers over her soft flesh. Stray scales sit on the ground from around you, plucked like petals from a daisy.

Her body is destroyed, pretty face so swollen, you hardly know who you're looking at.

Nausea hits you, though you fight against the urge to vomit up your breakfast, lunging forward, slipping your hand beneath the bleeding body of your sister, resting your forehead against her shoulder as you pull her close, her body falling over your lap as you sob, brushing your hair through her dirty ginger locks as your body shakes against her still one.

This all feels like a bad dream that you wish to wake from, only, you cannot.

'I- I'm sorry, my urchin,' you manage to get out between spouts of hyperventilation and nausea, your nails digging into her flesh as your arm settles in her blood.

'My beauty, they have destroyed you,' you mumble under your breath, unmoved by the stench in room as your chest swells.

Pulling your head off of the corpses shoulder, you press your hand firmly against her rotten cheek, observing the countless amount of cuts.

You feel the room spinning as you observe the true brutality of mankind, how they are so careless towards the rest of natures creations and you feel like a fool.

A fury burns within you, your tongue ceasing as two hands are placed on your shoulders, attempting to move you away from Serelia. Looking up over your shoulders, you spy the bewildered eyes of your lover.

'Let go of me, Simon,' you demand, turning your head back to the woman on the ground.

His hands stay firmly on your shoulders.

You wish for him to relent, but that's not in his nature. No, he wishes to keep you from all danger, and with the mess you have made of yourself and the crime scene, somewhere deep inside, you understand that you cannot have the very thing you desire.

You're pulled to your feet, crying as you kick and scream in his arms, the bloody skirt of your dress sticking to your legs as you fight against him.

'Let me go!' you cry, turning in his hold, bringing your hands to his chest, weakly hitting him as though it is he who caused the bloody slaughter. 'Let me go,' you hiccup as you're pulled out the door, away from the sight that is sure to haunt you for the rest of your life.

Pushing your hands against his chest, you shove him with all you might, though he does not move.

Placing you against a tree, he gently guides you to the ground as your legs give, kneeling on the ground before you as you chase after your breath, your legs laid out in front of you, your hands resting flat against your thighs.

Looking up towards the sky, you spy the moon staring down upon you despite the morning sky, proceeding to cry as you recall the lights on the shore the night Serelia was taken.

Your throat burns with the desire to scream and scream until you have torn the very vocal cords nature gifted to you, seeing no use in them as you come to realise that you will never call her name and get a response ever again.

'You were never on our side,' you sniffle harshly, hot tears flowing free as Simon simply stares at you. 'I see their torches in the light of your stars. You make us the villains, fool us into doing your dirty work, and then leave us stranded when you want no more to do with us,' you seethe, turning your head to the side as you continue to sob.

Simon's hand presses against your flushed face, pushing your head up from off of your shoulder, 'love, you need to calm down,' he utters gently. 'You're gonna make yourself sick if you keep on like this,' he warns.

He means well, you love him enough to acknowledge that in the midst of your fury.

Yet, your punishment leaves you weak and weary, missing the water you grew up in, missing life prior to that night.

'I already am sick,' you retort in a broken tone, 'infected with the parasite that makes me you, that separates me from her,' you cry, 'no longer a siren, only human.'

You don't care what happens, and, if you do, your emotions keep you from logic.

'W- What?' the man beside you chokes out.

You don't miss the way his hold on your face tightens, yet, you do not flinch, permitting his harsh hold as you look him in the eyes, swallowing harshly.

'I'm not a human,' you whisper, 'I don't know what I am anymore... I never had a sister, I was never in a wreckage, I was looking for her, my Urchin,' you admit, turning your head in the direction of the cabin. 'And now she's gone.'

Your sobs fill the void of silence, only, nothing fills the void of warmth against your face as he pulls his hand away from your face. Looking at him, your bottom lip wobbles.

Every lesson your mother has ever taught you is urging you to hate him, telling you that it is his fault that there she's lying there alone in a puddle of her own blood, unrecognisable.

However, no matter how much you wish to lunge forward and claw his eyes from out of his head, you find heart and mind conflict easily.

'Please say something,' you beg, caving to the gaping hole in your chest, longing for the return of his touch for, what is left after him? An outcast? Nowhere to return, even the ocean doesn't want you, and your bleak reality begins to settle in as his eyes do not change. 'Please, please talk to me, I- I've already lost her—'

He's unsure how to tread, you see the weariness in his eyes. 'What part of you is real?' he asks, 'or are you just a liar?'

'My love for you is real,' you blurt out, 'I cherish you, all of you for caring for me and for taking care of me when I needed it the most,' you continue, 'but I couldn't tell you, Si'- I- I've been trying to think of a way to tell you the truth and I was gonna do it today- I swear to you.'

'Why?' he lowly asks, 'are you afraid of me?'

'Are you afraid of me?' you question, looking him in the eyes as a stray tear falls past your eye.

He pauses.

'Your people murdered one of my own, Si',' you choke out, a flurry of emotion blowing over you as your face and skin prickle with an insatiable heat. 'We act accordingly, you treat us violently, we react with violence, but she...' your words trail, 'she did nothing to anyone, Simon. Had a voice as sweet as honey, charming, loving to the creatures of the sea, and look at what happened.'

'What's stoppin' you from hurting me?'

His voice and tone are raw as you look at him.

Truthfully, in the midst of your misery, you're unable to see the reason which keeps your fury at bay, though, when you look into his eyes, you understand for a moment long enough to form a response.

'You tried to keep her safe,' you whisper, 'keeping her from everyone, keeping her out of the way. They got to her, you didn't.'

And I can't let myself get to you for something you haven't done.

He exhales, looking towards you with bleary eyes.

Always, the desire to push him away is going to nestle within after the events of today, but nothing stops you from lunging into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck with as you sob.

His large hand presses against your head as he pulls you close, his hold on you almost crushing as you cry into the nape of his neck. If he is hushing you, you can't hear him.

You're in his arms and he's got you.

His hold feels the same as the one you have became accustomed with during your time on land, nothing has changed.

Feeling him tug at his mask, you settle when you feel his lips press against your forehead, and with a small voice he utters, 'I love you,' he says, 'human, siren, sea monster, sea urchin, I don't fuckin' care,' he states firmly, placing another kiss on your forehead.

'I love you too,' you tightly say, feeling the urge to smile at his words, but you don't, simply remaining in his arms.

'I'm sorry, love,' he utters. 'She didn't deserve any of this, neither did you.'

With your face buried into his neck, you nod your head.

'I know.'

You lay in his arms for what seems like an eternity, holding his bloody shirt as he rubs your back.

There's nothing that can be said, you know that.

Both of you do.

A man of few words can hardly be expected to become a flowing fountain of knowledge in the span of an hour.

Anyone else would curse him for not trying to make you feel better, maybe even say he doesn't care about you. But his rough touch turns gentle with you. His boisterous manner is reserved to calmness.

Oddly enough, it's in the most violent man that you find your faith in humanity is kept from drifting off of the cliff, toppling over into the ocean.

Eventually, you feel him shift beside you and you're moved as though your a doll in a child's arms. Looking down at you, he brushes his hand against your face, wiping away the tears that have flooded your face. You place your hands over his much larger ones, looking him in the eyes as you sniffle.

'We can't leave her there like this,' he utters, 'they'll wanna burn her body, 'not gonna let that happen.'

You mouth grows dry.

'We'll bury her up here, there's a clearing near the cliff, overlooking the water so she's not too far from home.'

No words leave your mouth so you simply nod your head in agreement as the pair of you raise from the floor.

Her helps you up and keeps you steady, not daring to let go of you, seemingly fearful that, if you fell, you would shatter and leave him forever.

He does all the work, leaving you to sit and watch as he carefully raps the girl in a sheet, lifting her into his arms with ease.

You standby and watch idly, holding a shovel in one hand and a lantern in the other, unable to look the dismal sight in the eye.

As, you step outside of the cabin, keeping your head bowed as you follow after him, heading towards the burial sight he mentioned.

It's hidden, private, and you stand near the edge of the cliff, looking down into the darkened abyss of water below you as you hear the occasional grunt from behind you as Simon busies himself with digging the gave.

At this moment you're resentful, wishing for some form of blow to the head to send you over the cliff, rejoicing in the short fall before you're able to escape from the consequences of your failure.

Only, you cannot will yourself to go over the cliff on your own accord, knowing if you did, Simon would most likely blame himself- if not follow right after you.

Living in the idea is enough to keep the action at bay, the resounding guilt and regret you imagine you would feel after taking the leap filling you with dread.

So, you turn yourself around and sit next to the woman wrapped in white while Simon makes a grave for her to finally rest her weary head.

It's difficult to say goodbye.

It was difficult when you said goodbye to your mother, a bitter pill to swallow when old age claimed the crazed woman on the seas, though, the guilt stabbing into your heart like a dagger proves to make this send off much worse.

Never did you dream of doing something so horrible, yet, here you are, unable to escape reality.

It's the dead of night by the time the grave is ready, the lantern in your hand flickers as Simon holds the body of Serelia in his arms, lowering her into the grave he constructed using a shovel.

The sheet she's wrapped in is stain red, marked with her blood, and while your chest grows heavy at the sight you find solace hiding in the shadows away from the moonlight.

Kneeling to the ground beside him, you tear the edge of your skirt, placing it onto her body with a shaky sigh.

He looks at you.

'When someone passes, we pull one of own scales and lay it with them to rest so they always have a piece of us with them,' you explain, 'I can't do that for her, but I'm not going to leave her with nothing,' you state.

Grabbing the edge of his shirt, you watch with a sunken smile as he rips a piece of his shirt of, laying it beside the piece of your dress you laid upon her.

'It's an apology,' mumbles the man, 'couldn't be there to keep her from harms way in this life, but she'll have me in the next. She'll have the both of us, yeah?'

'Forever and always.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You return to his home covered in blood.

He helps you wash, rubbing a sponge around your back as you lean forward, chin resting against your knees with void eyes. You say nothing to him, only listening to his gentle requests.

While doing so, he feels a heat growing his stomach. It had been set alight from the very second he heard you screaming and crying, and the longer he focuses, the more he finds his blood boils. Someone in the village knew where she was and they killed her- perhaps even multiple people.

A poor young girl was murdered, and in the process they murdered your spirit.

And now he is scared as he looks at you.

There's nothing to tie you to the land anymore, he understands that as he wraps you in a towel, carrying you up the steps to his bedroom in a woeful silence.

There's nothing to tie you to him and he wishes to paint the town red for the crime committed against you, swearing to himself that he will find the perpetrator.

The next time he's cleaning blood from under his fingernails will be the time he has avenged you.

Until then, however, he's committed to being beside you until you no longer want him there as he looks onto you after helping you get ready for bed, lying on his back beside you.

Nothing is left in you, your soul devoid of anything as your mind wanders to her body wrapped in that white sheet, and as you look to the dress discarded on the floor, you find you're not too far off her fate.

Laying your head upon his head, you listen to his heartbeat to make sure he's alive, fearful that he will leave you before you get the opportunity to leave him first.

'I love you,' you croak.

'I love you too, sweetheart.'

After a while he his breathing calms, soothing and melting as a wave on the beach did.

Your mind has been made up since he placed his shirt beside yours, and as you watched him cover her with dirt, you stood with crossed arms and contemplated for a while. The crashing of the waves over the cliff edge called for you as you stood there.

You cannot stay here.

For the good of yourself and the good of him.

Too much is at risk now, and too much has been lost.

Too many thoughts fill your head, bad thoughts. Bringing him to the water all to sing a song to pull him into it.

You'll watch as he fights for air, trying to break the surface of the water once more, but you will not care, simply watching him fight and fight until all life leaves him and his soul has left you.

Foolish mortal men.

You hear your mothers voice ringing in your ears as you look at his sleeping eyes, then to the blood beneath your nails.

Sinking into the watery depths of a sirens den.

Crawling from beside him, you offer him one final look at you lean over the sleeping man, pressing a kiss onto his temple, watching as his hand curls around the pillow on your side of the bed.

Misery strikes you as you look at the empty spot, something within you urging to you to crawl back into bed beside him, only, you're reminded of the celebrations litter through the town, the festering buzzing of the flies in the cabin, and the swollen face of Serelia.

How is one to move past such when they lack the very emotion of remorse?

And how are you supposed to keep your emotions at bay when you feel an unquenchable urge to bring the village into the water?

Both are impossible to solve, and somethings are better off left broken, for, if you act on your anger, you betray the man you love with all your being.

But, if you act on love, you betray the women in the sea who are most likely worried sick with your disappearance. So, you take hold of the first dress he bought you, pulling it over your head, eyes teary as you look at him sleeping.

You're making the right choice in leaving, you say that to yourself when you place another chaste kiss against his cheek, allowing the thought to follow you as you push the door of his house open, stepping onto the pavement.

It follows you down the twists and turns of the street, leading you from place you have both loved and lost back to the ocean where you have only ever know strength and family.

The land is cruel, harsher than the sea.

Even during a violent storm you find you prefer the sea for the land houses people capable of despicable things, maintaining the ability of hurting you, not only on the outside, but also on the inside. You long for normality, for a sense of belonging again, and while you know you will always have a place in his bed and arms, you have a duty to fill elsewhere, an anger to keep at bay, people to keep safe.

You have to go, and you hope he understands.

A man of few words yet the only man who could ever hold your heart and not shatter it, and as you're walking on the sand, stumbling towards the water, you allow yourself to cry an ugly and loud cry as you fist at the fabric of the dress he gifted you, pulling the skirt to your mouth, pressing your lips against the fabric. Your legs carry as you remain with the skirt bundled in your arms, inhaling the scent of the place you have grown to know as home.

But it's never going to be home again.

The water greets your feet as you allow your arms to drop to your side, walking into the sea.

The waves crash down, soaking the bottom of the pink fabric and you continue to sob as you edge further and further into the water, cupping your face in your hands as you stiffly wade through the waves.

Wiping under your eyes with your fingers, you raise your head in the direction of the sky, seeing the moon sitting above the sea. You keep your eyes trained on the red moon, unmoved by the winking stars in the night sky as you turn your back to her.

Observing the land one last time, you fall backwards into the water, whispering an ode to Serelia under your breath as the ocean swallows you whole.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for wanting my funeral to happen BEFORE I die

for the record i am still VERY young (mid-20s) so this isn't a particularly imperative issue or even really that important at the moment, it's just me being paranoid that i might be... eccentric with this choice, i guess? this isn't a fandom or joke aita i SWEAR up and down i am sending this genuinely.

I've recently underwent a near-death experience, on top of losing all of my grandparents within the span of two years or so, in addition to someone i was distantly friends with in the family dying as well. a lot of funerals, a lot of medical visits, so my mortality is very much on mind.

after sitting through so many memorials it really hit me that it's only really in the wake of death where people feel they can say, completely openly and honestly, how grateful they were to have someone in their life. (i'm guilty of this too, and i've tried to make it a point to say it more often to the people i care about.)

with this in mind, i really don't want to spend the last moments of my life just hoping that people will say nice things about me at my funeral. i kind of want to write it in my will or like. hospice plan that i want to hear what people have to say about me before i actually die via a memorial or something similar, so i can hopefully feel a little more fulfilled before it actually happens. is it vain and asshole-ish to make people think i died before i actually did just to feel good about myself? probably. that's why i'm here lol

i haven't actually told anyone this outside of occasionally joking that i'll be listening to anything anyone says at my funeral, but understandably i feel kind of insane planning this out to myself. like it feels like a comedy sketch bit rather than a genuine plan. but eh. i just want to feel appreciated before i pass haha

What are these acronyms?

[dreaisgrayte]

do you write for gyomei? if so could you write something along the lines of gyomei meeting a mother!reader who takes care of the orphan kids in her village, letting them stay at her house and providing them with everything they need,. and maybe gyomei stays the night to rest before going back on his journey to hunt a demon, but the demon ends up coming to him while trying to attack the house. but gyomei is there to protect everyone, and y/n is thankful for that. thank you!!!

I have never written for Gyomei, EVER. I'm not sure why... but I hope this is good! I wrote it in one day, which is surprising considering I wasn't sure how it would turn out. I should thank you! For getting me out of my comfort zone and possibly allowing me to make something...good? LMAO I hope it's something along the lines of what you wanted!!!!

Behind Me | Gyomei Himejima

Warnings: just a bit of demon death and wholesome children that eat rocks

Word Count: 2k

a/n: Everyone thank Anon for the suggestion!! it was a lot of fun to write someone new and from their perspective! AHH I hope you enjoy!!! <3 (it's also late so if there is anything I forgot in the post please tell me, my eyes are slowly shutting me off from the world)

Gyomei had endured a long day of trekking through the woods, hunting a troublesome demon, before coming across the border of a village. He could hear children running among adults who Gyomei believed to be strong enough. There was a small twitch to his senses as he was welcomed into the village, he could overhear the mention of an orphanage. As the scent of a good meal invaded his nose he wished to check on the children, perhaps staying the night if granted permission. Gyomei felt the vibration of someone near, the beads around his neck clicking together as he moved. “Excuse me, I’m looking for the orphanage.” His voice rumbles through his body. 

The person in front of him pauses, hopefully recognizing him to be the stone hashira. “Of course my Lord, would you like me to guide you there?” Gyomei couldn’t help but grin at the offer and respect for his position as a hashira.  

“That’s very kind of you, thank you for helping me.” He couldn’t help but get choked up after the person, likely a male based on their voice and strong grasp. Though Gyomei knew too many strong women to let that be a sole descriptor of sex. 

It took a small amount of time before the guide stopped. Gyomei could hear the pitter of many tiny feet and with the sun’s warmth fading on his skin he wanted to collect all of the children under his care. He would not make the same mistakes again. 

His heart sank in his large chest, a strong urge to start shedding tears over the past almost took over his every sense. “Oh, Chizu, what are you doing here?” A woman’s voice questions. The vibrations of her voice are soothing, the take away the worries Gyomei had rushing through his mind. Her very presence was like one of Kocho’s salves. He can feel her eyes finally land on his massive frame. He wondered if she was studying the scar across his forehead or the way his blank eyes refracted the very image he happened to be looking at. 

Gyomei’s eyes were the window into your soul. 

“I’ve brought one of the hashira to stay with you tonight.” The guide – or rather Chizu – replies. Gyomei can hear the way the woman sucks in the air, how her vibrations change to slightly protective. Good, she was willing to die for these children. The thought nearly brought him to sob. “Do you think the children will like him?” Chizu’s tone is humorous and without a second thought Gyomei is inclined to join in the jesting. 

“I make for wonderful climbing practice.” Both of them burst out in laughter and it brings a smile to his face, though laughing with kind villagers is so nice… he might start crying. 

After a moment the woman gingerly touches Gyomei’s muscular arm, the skin under her fingertips twitching. “I’m thankful for your presence my Lord, please come in.” He can feel her smile, the way she radiates kindness. He would stay here for the night and then make sure to hunt down the demon in the following days. Disgusting demons. He clutches his rosary, muttering chants to focus his mind on wiping away the muck of the world. 

Gyomei is yet again led into a short room, he can tell because he has to duck his head. Maybe the room isn’t short and rather Gyomei is too tall. “The children are all out back, washing up before dinner. Have you eaten yet my Lord?” The woman inquires. She pushes slightly on his forearm and after many years of having people try to signal things without saying anything, he knows to sit down. He’s met with comfortable tatami flooring. 

“I have not partaken in a meal yet… and please call me Gyomei.” He answers, bowing his head. The woman – he realizes he hasn’t asked her name yet – giggles softly. “Please tell me the name of the woman I am to thank for a place to rest.” 

There’s a moment of silence before he senses her kneeling next to him, the click of something being set in front of him. “I am simply the Mother, that’s what the children call me, at least.” He can hear the smile in her voice. Before Gyomei can comment on anything the rush of children takes away his breath. They are loudly talking about him. 

Woah! He’s so big! He’s like a mountain~ Can we keep him? I want to climb on him! Oh please, please, pleaaaassssseeeeeeeeeeeeee? Does he want this rock? Hey! That’s the rock I was going to eat!

“Excuse me Yeji, there will be no eating rocks,” Mother chastizes. The little one she was referring to groans dramatically. The woman next to you huffs before setting a hand on Gyomei’s arm again. He could get used to her calming touch. It was like how meditation made him feel. “I want you all to introduce yourself to Mister Gyomei, the stone hashira.” From what Gyomei can deduce, there are about 5 children in the room. 

“I’m Yeji! What’s a hashira?” A beat before the small girl gasps excitedly, “Do you eat rocks too?!” She exclaims. Gyomei chuckles – Yeji was his favorite, a strong girl in her own accord, especially if those rocks were in her system. 

“I’m Teke.” A little boy, he seems timid so Gyomei bows his head as a show of respect, hoping that Teke will see he means no harm. 

“My name is Pin and this is my little brother Rin.” A young girl bashfully introduces herself along with her younger brother who grunts in response. These children were cared for, tended with honesty, and safe. 

“I’m Ume… I got you this rock.” Tiny hands find their way to Gyomei and he allows her to set a miniscule pebble in his large palm. 

Gyomei bows his head to all of the children. It had been a while since he felt such…an overwhelming sense of righting the wrongs his past held. “Thank you Ume, I shall treasure this for as long as I live.” She squeals with happiness. 

“My Lord– er, Gyomei, do you need assistance with eating? I’ve brought some grilled meat and cold noodles. If you would like something else I’m sure one of the vendors will be happy enough to provide us with a meal worthy of your-” 

“Mama, he can just eat the rock.” Yeji – who you can imagine rolling her eyes like it was the most obvious choice – says. Mother quiets before a snort of laughter rings through Gyomei’s ears. She’s laughing so hard that her breath comes out in quick pants. 

It takes her a few minutes to calm down, the children giggling along with her in a harmonious melody. “I think Mister Gyomei should decide if he is the one to eat a rock or not.” She removes her hands from Gyomei’s arm, his warmth already missing hers. “But your mother worked so hard to prepare this meal.” Her timbre shifts to that of a whining child. The children hum in acknowledgment. 

“Mama does work very hard to fill our tummies…” Teke mutters quietly. 

“Teke is right! Let mister G…Gy…Gyoma eat Mama’s food!” Yeji yells. Gyomei fills with delight. These children, this atmosphere, it was almost too much. 

With the help of Mother, Gyomei enjoys a delicious meal – a few tears are shed because of the pure deliciousness present on his tastebuds. He could’ve fed himself but in all honesty, he preferred the way Mother fed him. “Now it’s off to bed with you heathens.” She laughs. 

The children rush to set up their mats, unfolding one for Gyomei. The cool air of night fills the room. “Mister Stone Man, ask Mama for a bedtime story, that way she can’t say no.” Pin is talking to him and he hears a scoff from his other side. 

“Pin, I would’ve told you a tale regardless.” Mother hums. As the night settles in Gyomei can feel himself grow restless. The tale was about the Demon Corps and Gyomei felt his duty weighing on him more now than ever. He was strong enough to handle it now, that’s what he kept telling himself. 

Mother was humming a lullaby with children surrounding her. He could see – well envision – himself falling into slumber, but his ears perk up at the sound of a twig snapping. Animals inhabit the surrounding woods, but this snap wasn’t on purpose. Something had tripped, the vibrations echoing malicious intent. He stills, one hand on his rosary. 

He turns to the last place he felt Mother, the look – if he could have one – must have conveyed to quiet down. He can hear her wake the children who had fallen asleep. She whispers to them calm instructions, her voice never breaking an inch in fear or distress. “Go to the corner. Cover the children.” Gyomei whispers. The creaking tatami signals she had done as instructed. Gyomei was strong this time. People listened when he told them to get behind him. He would protect them. Whatever the cost. His life mattered not if he did not give it to those he protected. Whatever was outside had to be a demon, Gyomei could smell the blood dripping from its mouth. The searing smell of flesh demons usually carried. It was disgusting.

It was approaching the house. Gyomei could act on his impulse and carry out the slaying, but through a calm reproach, he would stick to the group of people he was to protect. If he left their side that left them open to an attack. The house was far enough away from the rest of the village that he wasn’t worried about anyone else coming into harm's way. “Mama, what’s going on?” Yeji asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Gyomei’s muscles tense. 

It heard.

The figure appears, he can tell. “Well well well, fine dining just for me?” It sneers grotesquely. “A meaty steak and,” its voice pauses. “And some string beans to go along with it.” Gyomei can practically see the sickly smile that creeps up the evil one’s face. 

“Namu Amida Butsu. Namu Amida Butsu. Namu Amida Butsu.” Gyomei feels the sinking disgust take over his body as tears flood down his face. 

“Why is this one talking?” The demon questions before striking out with it’s claws. Gyomei continues his chant, gliding backwards to the group of children. Without breaking his chant the chain of his axe and flail extend outward. The nichirin metal surrounds the demon, grunts of struggle echoing in Gyomei’s ears. 

This foe will not live. It will not take another life. The edge of Gyomei’s axe cuts the skin of the demon. It hisses in agony, squirming to be free from the chain wrapped around its body. Gyomei was blessed to have gone through rigorous training, hours of meditation, and being able to feel his other Hashira at work. This demon was not strong enough to defeat the pure strength Gyomei possessed. He could save these children. He would save these children. 

The axe handle snaps back with a tug, slicing through the demon’s throat, but not all the way. “W-who are you?” It gurgles out. 

“May you find peace.” Gyomei prays. “Amen.” Before a small pull severs the head of the demon. He’s panting, worn out from the short battle. His head spins with thoughts and prayers for the damaged creature born of hate. He decides maybe he’d like for Mother to sing him a lullaby, to ease him into slumber. The sobs of the children finally hit Gyomei when they surround his legs, hugging him. 

“You were so cool!” Teke cries out, probably both scared and impressed. 

“Thank you Mister Gyoma!” Yeji sobs, wiping her tear struck face on Gyomei’s pants. 

“Gyomei,” He looks up, wracked with emotions unnameable. “You saved us, thank you. I am eternally grateful.” 

Eternal. Yes, that’s how long Gyomei would fight for the innocent.  

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:💀 PERSEPHONE: QUEEN OF THE UNDERWORLD, GODDESS OF SPRING, THE DEAD, THE UNDERWORLD, GRAIN, AND NATURE 💐 (PART 1)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is PART 1 of the Persephone Demigod Headcanons. Due to the size limit of Tumblr, I had to split the entire work into two. [LINK TO PART 2 HERE] Hi everyone! It took me a bit to figure it out but here's what everyone has been waiting for! Persephone is just 1 out of the 4 works I have planned and written for, and these works will be categorized as the MISCELLANEOUS GODS due to not the fact these gods are minor or anything, but because I did mention this in an ask before and it's easier to think about due to the canon PJO world building. These works will be a bit more loose since I'm taking a shot in the wild so hopefully you guys like it. Thanks for reading!!

*Disclaimer: mentions of unusual births, life and death*

People have been wondering if Persephone would have a demigod of her own, considering Hades has his own children, but also it’s slightly more believable if people know about the story of Adonis. However, there are very limited ways that the goddess would give birth to a demigod, since she’s very loyal and in love with Hades, and vise-versa.  

How you could’ve been born:

You really could’ve been born normally where Persephone’s eyes fell upon a mortal, when it was during Spring or Summer, or when the autumn and winter months have been delayed. 

Honestly, I can see this going for either gender of mortal: If your mortal parent is male, Hades couldn’t have done much because he knows Persephone’s preferences are strict and the last human she fell in love was Adonis, that Aphrodhite herself loved as well, so, Hades worrying about her being (repeatedly) unfaithful is very rare so your mortal male parent is the exception. So don’t expect any or more demigod siblings of Persephone. Not totally out of Hades’ ire, but given how many demigod children he has, he really doesn’t say anything. If your mortal parent is female, I can see it being this unusual birthing process where some sort of guidance is required: maybe Persephone offered a seed that your female mortal parent swallowed and boom, you were born. 

You’re a cabbage patch baby or a rose baby. or you’re born from a Peach. Turnip baby. Any plant based births. Quite literally. Don’t ask how this exactly works, but it involves the blood, sweat, and tears of your mortal parent planting the seed that Persephone gave/helped and raised you together. 

There’s a story where a woman ate a red and white rose to give birth, and I don't think that's not off the books for Persephone to do. Offering the flowers or something for your mortal parent to eat and boom, here you are-

You were either or an orphan, a completely child/baby that was near earth or had died, and you underwent the same process that (Zagreus)  Dionysus underwent with the weird death-rebirth thing; where you were (SOMEHOW) taken in by Persephone physically then reborn as a child of Perseophone when she gave birth to you. Since you technically died, you lost half of your mortal self because of the whole dying thing, but was replaced with Persephone’s godly portion.

That said, you’re not probably a double demigod if you went through the whole rebirth thing: where before you were a demigod child that died before Persephone gave you a new life. If you are however, oh boy, the Fates have something planned for you and it will not be an easy/happy life for you; doomed or tortured by the narrative. Your happy ending will have to be earned and fought with blood and tears. Afterall, the more powerful the demigod, the less easy it is for them.

 Either way, I don’t really see Hades targeting you on the level Hera does to the children of Zeus; though you still might want to refer to Hades (very) politely as Lord Hades or Godly Step Father. Just good manners, you know.

Regardless, everyone at camp is very confused and looking at you in a mixture of wonder, uncertainty, fear, amongst a few. When you get claimed, it’s like Spring has arrived, even when it’s Autumn or Winter. Nature blooms all around you with such vitality no one has seen before, with flowers, grains, and crops sprouting underneath your feet and all around you. Once the claim is over, if it’s Autumn/Winter, the world reverts back and everyone can see the rot that surrounds them except for you as you walk. 

Everyone expects you to be either a “Flower prince[ss]”, a soft person like Spring, or “A Prince[ss] of the Underworld”, terrifying like your mother. However, while you may lean one than the other, you can be both. Afterall, Persephone may be one to bring growth and fertility to the earth, and everything, she is also just as much as Kore that lends to herself being the Goddess of the Underworld and the dead where destruction follows. On the other hand, it’s a pretty cool thought where you’re wearing a crown of flowers and being all soft looking but switch to something darker with the flower petals falling off, to reveal a crown of thorns with the shadows curling around you to almost seem like your face is a skull, and vise-versa. You do you.

When you walk on the earth, you’ll sprout flowers and plants underneath your feet but as soon as you raise your foot to step away, the plants will wither and die, leaving rot behind. Sort of like the God of the Forest walking in Studio Ghibli’s “Princess Mononoke” .

[PART 2 TO PERSEPHONE DEMIGOD HEADCANONS HERE]

[dianawinchester03]

Season 1, Episode 7 - Hook Man

Series Masterlist

Third Person POV

"Enjoying your coffee flavored sugar that you try and convince yourself is coffee, princess?" Dean teases Y/N who's innocently enjoying her favorite coffee order. She narrows her eyes at him and he snorts at her reaction. "With a side of sass. Just how I like it, charming" She retorts sarcastically back, winking at him. Making his heart leap as per usual.

Y/N and Dean are sitting at a table in a outdoor cafe while Sam is at a pay phone trying to call the FBI while impersonating as a agent to get any information on John and F/N. "Alright. Thank you for your time" Sam says politely before hanging up and walking back over to their table.

"Your half-caf double vanilla latte is getting cold over here, Frances" Dean calls out to his brother teasingly laughing a bit. "Bite me" Sam retorts back and Y/N chuckles. "So, anything?" Y/N asks hopefully and Sam shakes his head sighing, causing Y/N's face to drop. "I had them check the FBIs missing persons data bank. No John Does matching Dad's or Mr. L/N's descriptions. I even ran their plates for traffic violations" Sam explains frustrated.

"Guys, I'm telling you. I don't think our dads want to be found" Dean says and they shake their heads in disappointment. "Check this out" He says and shows them his laptop. Y/N adjusts herself in her seat to get a better look. "It's a news item out of Plains Courier, Ankeny, Iowa. It's only about 100 miles from here" Deans says. On the news article is the title 'Mysterious Death of a Fraternity Brother'.

"The mutilated body was found near the victims car parked on Nine Mile Road" Sam reads off the article. "Keep reading" Dean says  while taking a sip of his water and Y/N starts. "Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying 'the attacker was invisible' " Y/N finishes reading.

"Could be something interesting" Dean says to them. "Or could be nothing at all" Sam says. "One freaked out witness who didn't see anything does mean it's the Invisible Man" Y/N adds. "But what if it is? Our dads would check it out" Dean tries to reason.

"Really? You're gonna play that card" Y/N raises her eyebrow and Dean shrugs with a smug look on his face.

________________________________

The trio pull up to the fraternity house if it's fallen brother. "One more time, why are we here?" Sam asks as they jump out of Baby and walk into the yard. "Victim lived here" Dean tells him. Y/N notices some of the frat boys wolf whistle at her, she smiles coyly and flashes them a wink before turning back to the boys.

Dean scoffs, seeing the thirsty looks college brats are throwing at Y/N. They approach a couple of guys who have their hood up on their car fixing the engine. "Nice wheels" Dean tells the young man causally and he looks at the two hunters weirdly. "We're your fraternity brothers. From Ohio" Dean thinks of a lie on the spot.

The guy looks over at Y/N, his eyes trailing over her body making Dean narrow his eyes at him. "And you, gorgeous?" He asks smirking. She inwardly rolls her eyes but keeps a pleasant smile on her face. "I'm student too. These are my friends from back home in Ohio. I'm staying at the sorority not too far from here. Told me they needed a place to crash so I let them know you might but taking in" She says sweetly.

The lie seems to work so the boys and Y/N are upstairs in the frat house, the boys entering the room where there supposed roommate would be sharing with them. When they enter they see a young man painting his whole body with purple paint. Dean knocks slightly, a little weirded out at seeing this.

"Who are you?" The purple man asks. "We're your new roommates" Dean says smiling slightly. "And you?" He turns to Y/N. "Just helping my friends get aquatinted" She says causally. "Then do me a favor, get my back. Big game today" He asks her, handing her the paint brush to paint his back.

She raises her eyebrow and points to Sam behind her with her thumb as Dean sits by the window. "He's the artist, the things he can do with a brush" She says, going to sit next to Dean while Sam lightly glares at her and looks little uncomfortable. He hesitantly takes the brush and Dean and Y/N sit by the window, trying to hide their snickering.

"So..." Dean starts, picking up a magazine and seeing a name on it. "..Murph...is it true?" He asks, flipping open the magazine and putting one of his leg on top of the other. "What?" Murph asks. "We heard one of the guys around here got killed last week" Y/N asks as if she's gossiping.

"Yeah" Murph says sadly. "What happened?" Sam asks while painting Murph's back. "They're saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter passing through. Rich was a good guy" Murph explains. "Rich was with somebody?" Sam asks as Dean flips through the magazine. "Not just somebody....Lori Sorenson" Murph says proudly.

"Who's Lori Sorenson?" Dean asks. "You missed a spot" He points to Murphs back that Sam was painting where he missed a spot. "Yeah. Just down there in the back" Y/N adds, drawing notice to the empty spot near Murphs ass. Sam clenches his jaw, glaring at his brother and best friend who look at him innocently, holding back their laughs.

"Loris a freshman. She's a local. Super hot" Murph says exaggerated. "And get this, she's a reverends daughter" He adds suggestively. Dean leans forward to ask, "You wouldn't happen to know which church, would you?"

________________________________

Y/N, Dean and Sam enter the church during the wake of the recently deceased, slamming the door behind them accidentally a little too hard upon entering, causing the congregation to look at them confused before the reverend goes back to giving his speech.

"....as a community and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic" The reverend states, as the trio take a seat in the room, his daughter, Lori, looking at Sam a little intently. They exchange looks as the reverend speaks. Sam shoots her a small sympathetic smile before Lori turns back to listen to his speech.

"A life unloved is the saddest of passings. So please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance and for the power to protect our children" He concludes to a moment of silence and everyone bows their head except Dean. Y/N peeks one eye open notices Dean didn't put his head down, nudging him a bit to follow along. He complies, bowing his head.

After the service, whilst everyone is conversing between themselves outside, the three approach her. "Are you Lori?" Sam asks her. "Yeah" She confirms, turning to them. "My name is Sam. This is my brother Dean and my best friend Y/N. We just transferred to the university" He introduces himself and them as Dean and Y/N wave saying "Hi".

"I saw you inside" Lori says nodding and smiling. "We don't wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened" Sam says sympathetically and Loris smile drops a bit. "We wanted to say how sorry we were" Y/N adds, giving her a small smile and Dean nods. "I kinda know what you're going through. I-I saw someone get hurt once. It's something you don't forget" Sam explains. Y/N and Dean look at him slightly shocked.

Before she could respond, the reverend approaches them. "Dad, this is Sam, Dean and Y/N. They're new students" She introduces them to her father. "It's a pleasure to meet you sir" Y/N says formally, putting her hand out to shake the reverends. He takes her hand, smiling "I must say, that was an inspiring sermon" She compliments the service.

"Thank you very much" The reverend says gratefully as they break the handshake. "It's so nice to find young people who are open to the Lords message" The reverend adds and Y/N smiles awkwardly at this. "Listen, uh, we're new in town, actually and uh...we're looking for a church group" Dean begins to explain, walking out of view with the reverend to chat as Y/N and Sam stay back with Lori.

"Tell me Lori. What are the police saying?" Sam asks her nicely as the three of them walk a bit. "Well, they don't have a lot to go on. I think they blame me for that" She says honestly. "What do you mean?" Y/N asks in the same tone as Sam. "My story. I was so scared. I guess I was seeing things" She says a bit pained.

"That doesn't mean it wasn't real" Sam assures her and Lori gives him a small grateful smile.

________________________________

"So you guys believe her?" Dean asks Sam and Y/N as they walk through the library. "I do" Sam and Y/N say in unison. "Yeah, I think she's hot too" Dean says and Y/N rolls her eyes, scoffing lightly, which doesn't go unnoticed by Sam.

"No, man. There's something in her eyes" Sam says. "And get to this, she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car" Y/N explains as they walk into an aisle of shelves in the library. "Body suspended. That sounds like—"

"Yeah. We know. The Hook Man Legend" Sam finishes Deans thought. "It's one of the most famous urban legends ever. You guys don't think we're dealing with The Hook Man" Dean says doubtfully. "Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began" Y/N says.

"Yeah. But what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer" Dean says. "Maybe the Hook Man isn't a man at all. What if it's some kind of spirit?" Sam suggests.

A little later they all seat themselves at a table in the library and the librarian drops a couple of dusty boxes of files they asked for on the desk. "Here you go. Arrest records going back to 1851" The librarian dusts her hand. Y/N blows some of the dust off the box "Thanks" She says smiling looking back as the librarian walks off.

Sam dusts the top of the boxes off, "so this is how you spent four good years of your life huh?" Dean says sarcastically, cringing as he also blows some of the dust off the box and Y/N opens it. "Welcome to higher education" Sam retorts cheekily and Dean lightly glares at his brother.

Couple hours in, "Hey, check this out" Y/N says, drawing attention to the boys. They peer over her shoulder to look at the report. "1862, a preacher named Jacob Cames was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes" She explains continuing.

"Uh, right here. Some of the deceased were found in their beds, sheets soaked with bloody others suspended upside down from trees as a warning against sins of the flesh" She further explains as Dean pulls out an old piece of paper with the autopsy reports.

"Get this. The murder weapon? Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident Z had it replaced with a silver hook" He says, showing them the old drawing of a hook. "Look where all this happened" Sam says pointing to the location written in the report.

"Nine-Mile Road" Dean says. "Same place where the frat boy was killed" Sam says and Dean looks over at Y/N impressed. "Nice job, Dr. Venkman. Let's check it out" He praises her, patting the small of her back.

As he walks off, she has a small blush on her face. Clearing her throat, Y/N and Sam follow behind Dean.

________________________________

The boys and Y/N pull up to Nine Mile Road and jump out of the Impala. They make way to the trunk of baby and Dean pulls out two shot guns, handing it to them.

"If it is a spirit, buckshot won't do much good" Sam says, cocking the hun outwards as Dean digs in the trunk. "Yeah. Rocksalt Einstein" Y/N says to Sam, also cocking her gun and he chuckles. "Salt being a spirit deterrent" Sam says.

"Yeah. It won't kill him but it'll slow him down" Dean says and he closes the trunk, throwing his duffel bag over his shoulder. "That's pretty good" Sam says impressed. "Who thought of this?" He asks.

"Mr. Winchester brought up salt grenades to my dad, then Dad came up with rock-salt shell casings" Y/N says shrugging. "I told you Sammy, you don't have to be a college graduate to be a genius" Dean says smugly as they walk. Y/N rolls her eyes jokingly and Sam chuckles.

They hear a few twigs snapping, holting in their tracks. Sam and Y/N aim their guns in the direction of the sound. "Over there, over there" Dean whispers to them and they point it towards where Dean was showing them.

Steps coming closer and closer to them. "Put the gun down now! Now!" A man in a police uniform yells, aiming his gun at them. The trio are startled by this, having been caught. "Put your hands behind your head!" He yells, ordering them. "Wait wait wait wait wait! Okay, okay!" Dean obliges.

Sam and Y/N drop their guns and Dean drops his bag. "Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it. On your knees!" The officer commands. The three hunters get on their knees, hands behind their heads. "Now get down on your bellies! Come on, do it!" The officer demands and Dean groans.

"They had the guns" He groans but they all do as told.

________________________________

The next morning the three hunters walk out of the sheriffs department. "Saved your asses. Talked the sheriff down to a fine. Dude, I'm Matlock" Dean exclaims boastfully. "But how?" Y/N asks confused. "Told em Sam was a dumbass pledge and we were hazing him. And you were my girlfriend who came cuz you were scared I'd get hurt" He says winking at Y/N who scoffs.

"Please. I'd leave your ass to get hurt" She says sassily, snorting and Sam says. "Yeah. Sure" ironically. Causing Y/N to nudge him annoyed and he looks down smiling. 'He sure loves to use that excuse..' Y/N thinks to herself. "What about the shotgun?" Sam asks.

"I said to you were hunting ghosts and that spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know? Typical Hell Week prank" Dean smirks. "And he believed you?" Sam asks surprised. "Well, you look like a dumb-ass pledge" Y/N retorts cheekily, shrugging and Sam huffs annoyed.

Dean laughs and Sam shoots Y/N his classic glare. "Bite me crack head" He huffs, holding back a laugh. "No thank you dipshit" She laughs as they walk towards the Impala. They hear the door to the sheriff department burst open.

Some officers run out, jumping into a couple squad cars in a hurry. They turn on the sirens and speed down the road. The three exchange looks before jumping into the Impala and following behind.

________________________________

They drive by where the cars stopped, the sorority where Lori Sorenson was staying. There, they look out the window to see Lori at the back of an ambulance looking distraught. Dean, however, drives past the scene and parks behind the sorority house.

They all jump out of the Impala, looking around to make sure no one sees them. Dean jumps up on the ledge, connecting to the house. Y/N follows behind as Sam does the same. They creep to the back of the garage to see some cops and cop cars in the alley.

"Why would the Hook Man come here? This is a long way from Nine Mile Road" Sam queries as they creep through the back. "Maybe he's not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it's about something else" Dean suggest and a few sorority girls come out the side of the house.

The three pull back a into a corner so they don't see them. Sam pulls himself into the ledge and Y/N gives him a boasts, pushing him up to the ledge. "Dude, sorority girls." Dean says checking them out. "Think we'll see a naked pillow fight?" He says perversely and Y/N taps him at the back of his head.

"Ow!" Dean exclaims, holding the now sore spot on his head. "Come on Peeping Tom. Gimme a boast" She grumbles and Dean helps her. When she gets up, she puts her hand out to help him up and he grabs on. Getting up on the ledge, they creep to the side of the house.

Sam opens the window to Lori's room and pushes his body in. Y/N follows behind with Dean getting in last. Y/N ends up falling ontop of Sam. "Crap sorry" She whispers. "It's okay" He whispers back. Sam gets up and Dean ends up falling ontop Y/N, causing her to groan in pain. "Oh, sorry" Dean apologizes a little too loud.

"Hey. Be quiet" Sam grumbles, shushing him. "Me be quiet? You be quiet" He retorts. "Fellas settle down" Y/N growls at both of them and their mouths snap shut. Dean closes the window behind them and Sam peers lightly at the door of the closet.

Outside is an officer scanning the crime scene, blood on the bed with police tape across it. When the officer steps out and goes downstairs. Sam opens the door and they quietly walk into the room. Written across the wall in blood with a symbol below it is 'Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?'

"Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light? That's right out of the legend" Y/N points out, reading the quote on the wall out loud. "Yeah. That's classic Hook Man alright" Dean says, stunned. "And it's definitely a spirit" He adds, tapping his nose.

"Yeah. I've never smelled ozone this strong before" Sam agrees and Dean walks over to peek at the crowd out the window. "Hey, come here" Sam calls him over. "Does that look familiar to you?" Sam asks them, pointing to the symbol underneath the quote.

They head back outside, the three of them leaning against the front grill of Baby Y/N pulls the autopsy report from earlier with murder weapon, the hook, engraved on it is the same symbol on the wall.

"It's the same symbol. Seems like it is the spirit of Jacob Carnes" Y/N says, standing between the boys against the car. "Alright. Well let's find the dude's grave, salt and burn the bones and put him down" Dean suggests. "Hard chance there" Y/N says and Sam takes the report from Y/N and reads.

"After execution, Jacob Carnes was laid to rest in Old North cemetery...in an unmarked grave" Sam reads, flicking the paper in anger. "Super" Dean says sarcastically and they all get off of the car to head back in. "Okay, so we know it's Jacks Carnes but we still don't know where he'll manifest next or why" As Sam says this, Dean pulls a paper off of his windshield reading it.

"I'll take a wild guess why. I think your little friend Lori has something to do with this" Dean says, opening the drivers side door, Sam and Y/N pile in behind, confused.

________________________________

Later they all end up at a college party in hopes to find Lori. "Man, you've been holding out on me. This college thing is awesome" Dean says enthusiastically and Y/N chuckles. "This wasn't really my experience" Sam says plainly. "Oh, let me guess. Library, studying, straight A's" Y/N says and Sam nods.

"What a geek. Alright did you two do your homework?" Dean grumbles and Y/N laughs. "Yeah. It was bugging us, right? How is the Hook Man tied up with Lori?" Sam starts to explain. "So we think we came up with something" Y/N says, opening the paper and showing Dean.

"1932, Clergyman, Arrested for Murder....1967, Seminarian Held in Hippie Rampage.." Dean reads off of but Sam cuts him off. "There's a pattern here. In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality and then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out, get this, with a sharp instrument" Sam explains.

"What's the connection to Lori?" Dean asks them. "A man of religion...who openly preaches against immorality" Y/N says as if it's obvious and Dean nods. "Except maybe this time instead of saving the whole town he's trying to save his only daughter" Y/N finishes.

"Reverend Sorenson. You think he's summoning the spirit?" Dean adds asking. "Maybe" Sam says but something comes across Y/N's mind. "Or... you know how a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place?" Y/N suggests. "Yeah. The spirit latches on to the reverend repressed emotions and feeds off them...yeah..okay" Dean agrees.

"Without the reverend even knowing" Sam says. "Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight" Dean tells Sam and he nods. "What about you two?" Sam asks them. Dean looks over at a hot young blonde chick with a sly smile on his face. "We're gonna see if we can find that unmarked grave" Y/N says smiling tightly.

Deans smile drops "But I-" He goes to contest but Y/N smacks his arm. "The case comes first" She says firmly and he groans disappointed. "Man you're no fun" He mumbles as they walk out of the building. "Do I need to show you how fun I can be?" She scoffs and his smile reappears. "You're on" He retorts and they laugh walking out.

________________________________

A little later they walk through the Old North Cemetery, flashing their lights at headstones. While walking through they hear some twigs snap and holt in their tracks. They begin walking a little deeper in and Y/N draws the headstone with the symbol from the murder weapon to Deans attention.

"Here we go" Dean says as they approach the grave and began digging. After some time of digging, Dean gets frustrated, "Thats it. Next time...I get to watch the cute girls house" Dean huffs as Y/N rolls her eyes. "Shut it and dig, Winchester" She orders and he groans but obliges.

Y/N hits something hard and knocks her shovel into the pine coffin, breaking the top half of it. "Hello preacher" Y/N says and they jump back above ground, over the hole. Dean gets up first and extends his hand to help Y/N out. "Such a gentleman. Guess chivalry ain't dead" She jokes and he laughs.

Y/N grabs the lighter fluid and salt and Dean strikes his matches. Y/N throws the salt all over the bones and drenches it with lighter fluid. Dean strikes the match, lighting it aflame "Goodbye preacher" He says before throwing it into the coffin. Allowing it catch into flames.

Y/N's POV

Yeah that's it. If I hear this guy talk about boning another girl one more time. I'm gonna blow my head off. I still don't understand why I'm getting all worked up over hearing Dean talk about other girls. Yeah I had a crush on him growing up but that was ages ago. I don't think it's possible I could still have feelings for him like that.

Regardless, it's freaking irritating. I need to figure this out. What I know for sure is, even if I do like him in that way. He can't possibly feel that way about me. Screw what the shapeshifter said, it's not possible for him to feel that way about me. For Christs sake, he calls me his little sister. Yeah he flirts but he flirts with everyone dammit.

________________________________

Dean and I rushed to the hospital after hearing Lori's dad was attacked, we see Sam down the hall and run towards him but some cops try to stop us. "Hold on there, kids" The cop says to us. "It's all right, we're with him" I say.

"Yeah. That's my brother. That's- Hey, brother" Dean says cheekily, smiling and waving at Sam. I follow waving at him. "Let them through" The sheriff tells the cops and they oblige. "Thank you officers" I say sweetly before me and Dean walk towards Sam who meets us in the middle.

"You okay?" Dean asks him. "Yeah" Sam assures us. "What the hell happened?" I ask. "Hook Man" He responds. "You saw him?" Dean asks. "Damn right. Why didn't you guys torch the bones?" Sam asks us annoyed. "What are you talking about? We did" I defend.

"You sure it's the spirit of Jacob Carnes?" Dean asks. "Sure as hell looked like him. And that's not all. I don't think it's latching onto the reverend" Sam adds. "Well, yeah. The guy wouldn't send the Hook Man after himself" Dean states and we look back to the room where the reverend is situated.

"I think it's latching onto Lori. Last night, she found out that her father is having an affair with a married woman" Sam explains. "So what?" Dean asks. "So she's upset about it. She's upset about the immorality of it. She told me she was raised to believe if you do something wrong, you get punished" Sam explains further.

"Okay, so she's conflicted" Dean says. "And the spirit of Preacher Carnes latching on to her repressed emotions and maybe he's doing the punishing" I suggest. "Right. Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl...Dad has an affair" Sam puts the pieces together.

"Remind me not to piss this girl off" Dean says cringing. "But we burnt those bones. We buried them in salt. Why didn't that stop him?" Dean asks. "You guys must've missed something" Sam suggests and I shake my head.

"No. We burnt everything in that coffin. I doused the son of a bitch with lighter fluid. Whatever preacher is latching onto, it ain't in that coffin" I say firmly and something dawns on me. "Holy crap. The hook" I say in realization. "The hook?" Dean asks.

"It was the murder weapon. And in a way, it was part of him" Sam says shrugging. "So like the bones, the hook is a source of his power" Dean says in realization. "So if we find the hook.." Sam starts. "...we stop the Hook Man" We all say in unison, smiling and nodding

________________________________

"Here's something I think" I say, sitting between the boys at a desk in the library, reaching for some kind of information. Dean pulls his pen out of his mouth and they peer over to look at the book. "Logbook, Iowa State Penitentiary. Carnes, Jacob. Personal effects...disposition thereof.." I read out of the book.

"Does it mention the hook?" Sam asks. "Yeah, maybe. 'Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the Prisoner's House of Worship to, St. Barnabus Church' " I read out loud. "Isn't that where Lori's father preaches" Sam asks and I nod. "Yeah" Dean says. "Where Lori lives?" Sam adds scoffing in irony.

"Maybe that's why the Hook Man's been haunting reverends and reverends daughters for the past 200 years" Dean says. "Yeah but if the Hook were at the church or Lori's house, don't you think someone might have seen it? I mean, a blood stained silver handled hook?" Sam suggests. "Check the church records" Dean says and gets up to grab the record book.

"St. Barnabus, donations. 1862. Received: silver handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged" Sam sighs, reading the record book as Dean sits across from him and I sit next to him. "They melted it down. Made it into something else" I say shaking my head

________________________________

We end up back at the church, hoping to find the reforged hook. "Alright. We can't take any chances. Anything silver goes in the fire" Dean says as we walk towards the church after getting out of the car. I nod and Sam says, "I agree"

"So, Lori's still at the hospital. We'll have to break in" Sam tells us. "Alright. Take your pick." Dean says to us. "I'll take the house" Sam says. "Okay. We'll take the church" I say and he gives me a curt nod before he heads over. "Hey" Dean calls out to his brother.

"Stay out of her underwear drawer" Dean says smugly and Sam scoffs while I laugh. "Not everyone is you, Dean" I say laughing as we walk towards the church. "Damn right they ain't princess" He winks at me and I felt my heart flutter a bit. "Whatever charming" I grumble laughing.

We immediately get to work after breaking in, throwing everything silver into the first. "I got everything that even looks silver" Sam says coming down from the stairs with a bag. "Better safe than sorry" Dean says and Sam hands me the bag. I put it down and me and Dean start emptying stuff into the fire.

Some floorboards creaking caught our attention, we holt in our actions, looking up into the direction of the sound. "Move, move" Dean ushers us to go up the stairs. We all creep behind, following into the church. Dean has the shotgun in hand, ready to shoot.

In the distance on one of the pew, we see Lori kneeling, crying as she prays and my heart gives out for her. Sam looks at us and walks towards her as me and Dean go back downstairs to finish up burning the silver.

"Let's hope after this he finally gets some" Dean chuckles as we walk downstairs to burn more silver. "Is sex all you ever think about?" I laugh, grabbing some silver to throw in the fire. "I'm a growing boy, Y/N. Hormones and all" He smirks at me and I snort. "Oh you're something" I retort as he laughs.

"You okay?" He asks me concerned. "Yeah why?" I ask back surprised. "I don't know. I just haven't seen you smile much in the last couple weeks and it's weird because you're always smiling. I'm just concerned" He says nicely. "Woah, Sammy is rubbing off you on there champ. Are we gonna braid each others hair next?" I joke and he rolls his eyes laughing

"Bite me" He grumbles, throwing the last of the silver in the fire. "Maybe I will" I counter and his eyes snap up to mine. My breath hitches in my throat as his eyes pierce into my (e/c) ones. Our heated gaze is once again cut short by some ruckus above us in the church. We immediately bolt into action.

Dean runs in with the shotgun in his hand and I grab my iron cuffs out of my boots, clutching it to my fingers. When we run up we see Lori on the ground, the Hook Man towering over her and Sam pulling himself out of a bookshelf.

"Sam! Run!" Dean yells as we run and Sam ducks as Dean shoots the spirit. Sam and Lori at on the ground, gasping for breath. "I thought we got all the silver!" Sam exclaims. "So did I!" Me and Dean say in unison. "Then why is he still here?!" Sam yells. "Well, maybe we missed something" Dean states the obvious.

My eyes flicker over to Lori's necklace. "Lori, where did you get that chain??" I ask her. "My father gave it to me" She says hastily. "Where'd you dad get it?" Dean asks roughly. "He said it was a church heirloom. He gave it to me when I started school" She explains. "Is it silver!?" Sam asks loudly.

"Yes!" She confirms and Sam rips it from her neck. When he turns to us, necklace in hand, we hear a scraping behind us. Turning to see the Hook man scraping the wall down the hall. Dean throws the shotgun and some rounds of salt to Sam, which he catches, while simultaneously Sam throws the necklace and I catch it. We run down the hall to go downstairs and burn the necklace.

As we run down we hear a shot fire. Throwing the chain into the fire which takes it sweet time to burn, it finally catches a flame and melts. Me and Dean cheer before hugging, he picks me up and spins around. My heart flutters when I realize what just happened. He drops me back down quickly but gently, clearing his throat.

"Sorry...got caught up in the moment" I say softly. "We're good" He nods at me winking and we run back upstairs to see Sam and Lori in the floor. Happy and sighing in relief.

________________________________

The next morning the police is questioning me and Dean meanwhile Sam is getting patched up by the ambulance. "And you saw him too? The man with the hook?" The officer asks us for the millionth time. "Yes, I told you. We all saw him. We fight him off and then he ran" Dean explains exhausted.

"And that's all?" The officer asks. "Yes sir, that's all" I say calmly. "Listen, you, your brother and girlfri- " The officer goes to say to Dean and he begins walking off. "Oh, don't worry. We're leaving town" He says annoyed, cutting him off and I hold back a laugh. Walking with him towards Baby.

As we're walking to the car I ask him, "aren't you freaked out by it?". He cocks his eyebrow at me, confused. "By what?" He asks me, leaning against baby on the drivers side while I lean on the back right passenger side. "People assuming I'm your girlfriend" I ask shrugging and he freezes.

I couldn't help but notice the tinge of pink the rose on his cheeks but I choose to brush it off as the cold weather. He just shrugs and says nonchalantly. "Cant tell people what to think" He jumps into baby before I could respond and I take that as the end of that conversation. Don't get you hopes up L/N, he will never look at you that way.

I jump in and look through the side mirror to see Sam and Lori talking by the ambulance. "You think he's gonna do it?" Dean asks me. "I think he already did it" I say back and he snorts, looking slightly disappointed as Sam walks off and towards the Impala.

Sam gets in, sighing a bit and holding his head. "You alright Sammy?" I ask him concerned and he nods. "We could stay" He says to Sam and he shakes his head sadly. Dean and I look at him worried but with that we make our way out of there.

________________________________

Authors Note:

This is once again, unedited and to whoever is reading thank you for reading and being patient with this upload. I appreciate your support so so so much.🫶

Xoxo

[dogloveri23]

Fangs Of A Monster

Pairing: Suguru Geto x gn!reader

Warning: murder, death, angst

A/n: Welcome to the blog anniversary. It's been 4 years writing for you all. Thought I'd drop a little something for you all from today till the end of the week(hopefully ) to commemorate the day!

"Suguru? Suguru? Where are you?", you call out but I'm met with silence. The door was left wide open which was strange for Suguru's parents.

You could feel your arm hurt as you ran your fingers along the wall. You weren't the strongest sorcerer and your body knew that better than anyone. Well... anyone but Geto. You hadn't gotten the chance to head back to Jujutsu High. Not when he hadn't informed you of his status. He was not in Jujutsu High. That's all you knew.

You can sense any curse energy seeping out of the house. It was familiar but much too ominous. The house is in perfect order. Nothing spilt, nothing torn and the quiet humming of the TV but the smell was horrendous.

You take a look at the pictures on the wall and smile. You watch as they progress and look at the changes Suguru has undergone. His wide and toothy grin gradually fell into a sly and curt smile as each picture passed. When you compare it to the latest picture of him on the wall, it doesn't look anything like a smile.

"Suguru?," You cross the boundaries even further finally reaching the living room. The smell had increased ten-fold. The couch seemed empty but the table in front of it was amiss. You walk closer and are met with the lower halves of two bodies. That was what stunk. You jump back and press your arms tightly against your lips to keep you from screaming.

They were Geto's parents or at least what remained of them. "Does Geto know about this? Has he seen them?" you think. The grotesque bodies in front of you were covered in maggots and flies meaning it had been like this for a few days.

You rush out of the house with a bitter taste in your mouth. Something was wrong. A curse had clearly done it, the bite was massive, and no animal on earth could do it without some sort of assistance.

You tap violently against your screen before bringing it to your ear. You needed to see him. You needed to be sure he was ok. That he had someone near him. Someone he loved!

"Hello my love, were you looking for me," You hear him say as he approaches you in the hallway of the apartment building. You end the call and sigh in relief. He was alive but something was wrong.

"Geto! Are you hurt?," You rush to him and inspect him for any injuries it marks he did not leave jujutsu high with.

"I am fine, my love."

"Your parents, they-"

"I know"

"How are you so calm?"

"Because your parents are the same way."

"What?," You question, his statement not fully registering in your mind.

"I mean that they died the same way yours did. Did you not know? Don't tell me you came to Tokyo to search for me without ever stopping to see your parents-" He smiled. "-You really are the best partner a man could ever ask for."

Your eyes were wide when he laughed. The way he always did. He relayed the message that your parents died and was laughing!

"What is wrong with you Suguru? You can't say all that and laugh. Have you gone mad?"

"Pardon me, my love. But you can't expect me to be sad that a couple of monkeys died."

"Monkeys? What do yo-"

"I guess I'll have to say it. I killed them. I have no regrets about it either. I have a plan to erase curses from the face of the earth for good! They were a small price to pay-"

"They were my parents Geto! Our parents. You had no right to take their life!"

"They were non-jujutsu sorcerers, they bred curses and they shackled you,"

"Shackled me? You've truly gone mad Geto!"

"You told me that if I ever had anything I needed, you were in, I didn't even have to ask-"

"Not when it involves killing people! Geto! Not when it involves killing my parents and everyone you consider a Monkey!"

"You may not understand but I did it all for us. I couldn't stand to keep tasting curses, nor did I want you to keep getting hurt fighting them."

You never asked him to do this. So what if you get hurt? What if you get into a bit of trouble? You come out alive! You fell silent, a single question lingering on your mind.

"If-if I couldn't use curses, would you kill me too?", You asked quietly. You weren't sure what answer you wanted to hear. The man in front of you was nothing like the man you once knew. This man was over the edge and he intended to drag you along with him.

He fell silent, he was thinking. He had given me his answer.

"You would."

"Love I-"

"Don't call me that! Not after what you've done."

"Don't say th-"

"I shouldn't? Let me say this instead. I never want to see you again, Geto. The next time you see me, consider me your enemy."

"Love please I-," Geto can't get the words to form when you storm past him down the hallway. He feels his chest burn and suddenly it feels as though this was God's way of paying him back for his wrongs. This fate was much worse than the deaths of any of the Monkeys he had killed. He had lost the best piece of him, you.

[strongheartneteyam]

[ credits of the Neteyam pic go to @cinetrix ]

Champagne Problems

Part 5

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader

CW: reader sees neteyam with another girl and gets jealous, a lot of angst, a flashback that tells u more about reader's past and why she acts in such a distrustful way, reader tries to deny to herself that she has feelings for neteyam but she realizes she does like him, heartbroken reader, tense encounter between neteyam and reader, TRIGGER WARNING for family issues, parental verbal abuse, mentions of death of a family member, mourning, studying too much as a coping mechanism, allusions of possible alcoholism, low self steem, isolating as a coping mechanism. Tell me if I'm missing anything!

Hi, loves! I don't have time to fully proofread this chapter rn so I hope things are alright lol In this chapter you guys will hopefully understand why reader is so fucked up in the head and follows her trust issues like they are the voice of truth 🥲 Have patience with my poor girl, I promise she's a bit insane but she's good. Anyways, hope y'all like this chapter! I love all of you and as always, I'll say THANK U SO MUCH for all the love and support I receive from you guys everyday. Means the world to me and makes me feel loved 🥺🤌🏻🥲💕 Comments will be incredibly appreciated by me so feel free to leave me some feedback down below!! <3

Slightly proofread.

Part 4 : Now she got your heart so I feel stupid, foolish, afraid

𓇼

Hit me like a shot in the heart

Never shoulda played you so hard

Guess I played myself, that's my fault

I don't even know how to think

'Cause now she got your heart so I feel stupid, foolish, afraid

I'm losing everything I thought I couldn't

My whole world is falling apart

I DO (G-IDLE)

𓇼

You had just gotten back from a long talk and an awesome breakfast with Adeline and Kate - no Pandoran food this time, you guys had already eaten way too much alien food the night before at the Metkayina beach party, and now, all you guys wanted to help with the hangover was burgers and coke and that's what the three of you ate. Some good human food was always great to remind a scientist living on an alien Planet of their humanity. 

You were hanging out in Tsireya's and Lo'ak's marui. It was getting near noon and you had been talking to Tsireya for a good amount of time, while Lo'ak was out fishing with Rotxo and Ao'nung. You wondered if they were gonna pick up a stupid fight with each other over something small and stupid, like who got a fish first. Lo'ak and Ao'nung had become friends with time but they would always be a little bit of frenemies too. You thought that was incredibly idiotic but still funny as hell.

You said goodbye to Tsireya and thanked her for the yellow flower she had adorned your hair with. She was a sweetheart, so kind, always doing things for other people. You really liked that alien girl's company. You could connect to each other really well even if the both of you were from completely different species. She was one of your good friends and one of the few people in the world you trusted because you were always one to read people well and you could see Tsireya's smiles and good deeds were not just a facade to seem like a perfect girl and make people love and admire her. Even though she seemed too perfect, too good, she was truly what she seemed to be. Not perfect, because nobody is, but truly a good girl. She was full of kindness and a need to help others had been planted deep inside her right before she was born (by Eywa, if you were to talk like Kiri did) and she would always follow that call. Tsireya was an open book and you liked that. Those kinds of people are easy to trust.

You stepped out of the door, hungry, feeling your stomach hurt. Starving would be a better way to describe it.

The wind was gentle and it had a higher temperature to it than it had early in the morning, back when Neteyam held you in his arms. That thought sent a shiver down your spine and made your heart start to beat faster and hurt, simultaneously, but you did your best to send that thought the farther it could go. 

The sun was shining really bright in the Pandoran sky, not many clouds around to make the temperature a little less hot. You felt a little stream of sweat dripping down your forehead and used the back of your hand to quickly dry it.

You were heading over to the marui that you, Adeline and Kate were sharing. You wondered if they knew what you guys were gonna eat for lunch. You needed food more than you needed air at that moment. You all worked as scientists and were the humans that were called "loyal to the na'vi". The three of you were in Awa'atlu because of the party - the Metkayina were famous among the na'vi and the humans for throwing unforgettable beach parties - and would stay for a little more time because traveling that far just to go back the next day made no sense at all. You and the girls would soon be heading back to Hell's Gate.

You walked through the Metkayina beach with your head down, looking at your feet getting covered by the tiny grains of sand. Once you looked up, you saw Neteyam talking to Munì. She was joyfully laughing at something he was saying but you couldn't hear what it was, since you were a good amount of meters away from them. You felt a stabbing feeling creeping up on you. Jealousy.

Damn. It could not be real. You could not be feeling jealous of Neteyam. That feeling was bad news. You could not be that attached. Fuck, no!! You were the one who dumped him, dammit. He was now moving on. Great for him. Why the hell did you even care? "I gotta stop being stupid" you thought to yourself. But your heart just would not stop hurting.

Munì was gorgeous and she treated Neteyam so nicely. The girl seemed to be head over heels for him. But again, it was not hard to see a girl acting like that when around Neteyam. One time you had heard Lo'ak saying that he was like a flame and the girls - na'vi or human - were like a Pandoran winged insect that loved light, be it coming from bioluminescent plants or from fire. Those extraterrestrial insects behaved in a similar way to how an insect called moth that used to live on Earth but was, unfortunately, extinct behaved.

Munì truly seemed to be a nice girl. She was na'vi, too. Of course she would be better for Neteyam than you could ever try to be. Neteyam was right to finally give her his attention. You would never be good enough for him and you knew it. If you had accepted being his mate, soon enough he would see how broken and messed up you truly were and he would fall out of love.

As you looked away as fast as you could, pretending you saw nothing, and kept walking towards the place where your girlfriends would be waiting for you, you had one of those weird moments where you seemed to be taken back to the past. It was so insanely uncomfortable but you never seemed to be able to control your own brain and keep yourself safe and sound at the present. You would always go down that same bitter path of painful memories. 

After your little sister died in a car accident, everything changed. You saw no reason to stay on Earth anymore. The only family you had that you felt actually cared for you and you could connect with was gone. The pain felt unbearable, like it tore your chest apart everytime you remembered you would never be able to hug Tracy again. That's when you made up your mind for real: your major would be Exoscience.

"Why would you go to that Planet?! It's dangerous, (y/n)!"

"Oh really, father? And staying here on Earth is really safe, right? A dying Planet! I am a scientist, I've been studying for it for years and I told you and mother I was gonna go to Pandora one day to study the Planet and help the na'vi. Did you think I was just kidding?!"

"So you're just gonna abandon your family to go help some stupid aliens and never come back? Is that it?"

"Yes, father. That's exactly it! There's nothing for me here. You and mother have abandoned me a long time ago. Just because you're still around it doesn't mean you're actually there for me. You're blind if you can't see it."

"You fucking ungrateful girl!" Your father screamed at you, which made you flinch "Just go then. Let's see how long you're gonna survive there, all alone. Just wait until those aliens decide to turn against you. You can't trust them. You're never gonna be an equal in their eyes. You're always gonna be human, an enemy. You'll never be safe in Pandora as you're safe here on Earth. But it's your choice. You're a grown up as you always say, right?!" He smirked "Go follow your dreams, daughter. But don't try and ask us for help when you see that those dreams turned into nightmares."

"I'm not gonna be alone there. Adeline and Kate are going too." You said confidently 

"Friends are not family." Your father harshly stated as he looked at you in disappointment seasoned with a little bit of disdain

Everytime you remembered how your parents would treat you back on Earth you would feel like someone was squeezing your heart hard, trying mercilessly to make it explode inside their hands.

Their cruel words taught you that you had to learn how to face the world completely on your own, you couldn't count on anyone and you certainly should not trust anyone easily. You trusted your parents when you were a kid and they told you they loved you and that they would always be there for you but as soon as you dared to make a decision on your own, going against the plan they had for your life, which was to stay on Earth and go to medical school, they abandoned you. Though you never wanted that for you, it seemed like your parents didn't love you for who you were, they only loved the version of you they created in their minds, the good daughter who would always obey her parents, even after she was an adult, the good girl who would always behave like everybody wanted her to, who would never even dare to dress in a "weird way" that would bring too much attention to herself because "what about what people will comment?" like your mother used to say.

You got so fed up with all of it that you just decided to study as hard as you could so you could get away from that Planet and be a great scientist. You had always felt drawn to the stars and the moon, ever since you were a child. Maybe that was the way the Universe found of letting you know that there was much more to see and experience than what's on the planet you had been born in. You decided you shall go nearer the stars you could watch from Earth, like the ones in the constellation known as The Archer.

You studied your ass off, didn't have much time for friendships, parties or leisure but you got what you wanted. Not without the help of half a bottle of wine everyday at 4 am, though. When you finally finished studying everything you needed to retain information about and would finally, that late in the am, try to relax and be able to fall asleep, the alcohol truly helped. It seemed to soothe you from the inside. It was calming and familiar.

You did regret pushing people away because all you focused on was your studies, though. You realized too late that the people you love - and love you back in a healthy way, not a toxic one - should come before your career. But crying over the milk that was spilled wouldn't fix anything. You can't go back in time but you can try and do better in the present and that's what you made a big effort to do nowadays. Now, you and your small group of close friends were inseparable and you were always there for your girls, like Adeline, for example. She earned your trust. She was your childhood friend and contrary to what your own family did, she never abandoned you.

Chosen family… you wholeheartedly believed in that concept.

𓇼

Later, when it was afternoon and you were hanging out with your na'vi friends - Tsireya, Rotxo, Ao'nung and Kiri - you realized Neteyam was walking towards the rocks you all were sitting at. He was talking to Lo'ak, the two brothers laughing about something. Neteyam seemed too distracted to notice you but when he realized you were there and everybody saw the way both of you tensed up at the sight of each other, the atmosphere around the friend group got filled with a bad energy. Nobody knew how to act.

Yeah, it wasn't just a saying. News truly travel at the speed of light in Pandora.

How the hell did they find out about the fact that you and Neteyam had hooked up? Did anyone see the both of you together and spread the word around?

You wondered if you would lose your friends because of what you did to Neteyam. You already felt like shit and couldn't stop thinking about how stupid you had been… you did not want to lose your friends too. You knew you had lost the chance to have a great guy be your partner.

At least you would still have your human girl friends. But you would miss your Metkayina friends, of course…

God, getting attached always got you in trouble! But you couldn't help it when it came to the na'vi. They were much more loyal than the humans, so, you trusted them easier. It was easier to make friends with an alien race than with your own race. What a joke that seemed to be.

𓇼

Taglist:

@iman-lu

@leaveitbythewave

@creepytoes88

@live-laugh-neteyam

@swaggygurlbae

@neteluvr

@layla2-49

@a-blog-name-2003

@lala-1516

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen

@yeosxxx

@iaratezaewa

[ask-the-no-killing-game-au]

Can I get a recap of what happened in this AU so far? I'm really confused because it seems like *alot* has happened

No art with this one, sorry - I'll be updating this regularly & a link to the post will be in my pinned post so it can be referenced at any time for anyone new to the blog. I recommend reading even if you've followed the story to ensure you have everything clear.

TW - death (both murder and self inflicted).

Near the start of the blog, Veronika tried to stop herself from living. Arturo walked in on this, recognised that she was in extreme pain, and decided to finish the job for her, killing her just as she woke up.

Arturo didn't realise until after this that both Xander and Nico had witnessed the murder as Veronika's door was open. He forced the two of them to keep quiet about it by threatening to kill them if they told anyone.

Eventually, with the fact that dead bodies' conditions get worse & harder to hide overtime, Arturo forced Nico to help dispose of the body while Xander had to stay inside Veronika's room.

In the building where they're staying, there aren't many places to hide a body, if you consider factors such as blood and the smell. Arturo was also in an extremely bad state mentally, so with him not thinking straight, he hosted a dinner that the whole cast (minus Ace, Arei, and David) attended. However, for the food.. instead of serving the food from the kitchen, he instead made the desicion to cook the dead body.

The rest of the cast, totally unaware of what they were eating, all finished the meal together and split up. This wasn't it, though, as Teruko, Levi, and Ace all searched the kitchen, just to find evidence of what happened. They informed the others, which obviously terrified Nico.

Nico, now convinced Arturo would think they told everyone & murder them, spoke to David, who is also dealing with very bad mental health to the point where he can barely move, and convinced him to dress as them, thinking that if Arturo did try to kill them, David would act as a distraction.

What they didn't take into account was that Xander, the other witness of Arturo's murder, also wasn't dealing with the situation well - but instead of hiding and being scared of death, he became the opposite, obsessive over people "getting what they deserve" and serving "punishment" to anyone that did anything "wrong". And because he wasn't aware it was actually Arturo who cooked the food, but he also didn't want to kill Arturo for the murder incase he fought back.. he instead set out to kill Nico.

Xander found Nico in the bathroom and stabbed them from behind, unable to see their face. It was only when they fell to the floor that he recognised their pale yellow eyes as not Nico's but David's, & ran away panicking upon realising he was now just as much of a murderer as Nico, if not more so as Nico was forced to do the cooking. Hu entered the bathroom with Arei and Eden just to find "Nico" dying (not fully dead) on the floor.

... That's where I'm up to right now. Story post later, hopefully. Thank you all for supporting this AU so far <3

Xander panicked when he couldn't stop everyone else from seeing the body, but instead of being sad, it just revealed his true mindset - that he believed David's death was "supposed to happen", and he became fed up of the attention David got for, well.. dying.

To "fix" this, he decided to put the attention on himself by stabbing himself multiple times, in his chest, stomach, and eye. Unfortunately, because he killed David, nobody cared and left him to bleed out in the cafeteria.. except Arei, who swiftly returned, as the situation had also begun to make Eden a worse person, so she felt that she needed friends.

Arei and Xander thought of a way to get attention - that being a motive. Arei was able to get hold of secrets about every single student, and put them through other peoples' doors.

Meanwhile.. Arturo was getting worse, starting to believe things that weren't true, eventually stopping all his memory of being Arturo and fully convincing himself that he's Veronika.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request

This request came in on my other blog from @mogami-13 and somewhere along the way it ended up deleted from my inbox there. I'm glad I had already copied it into a word doc, so hopefully you see it! It isn't quite the quote you were probably thinking, but I had to make it work for this situation, so I hope you like it still! Prompt: If you are still doing the asks, I just had a brilliant idea. So you know at the end of legally blonde where Elle brings up the rules of hair care? I need that quote with a Steve rescuing Eddie and Dustin from the bat tornado with a lighter and hairspray…

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

There was no way they’d win.

Steve realized it the moment he was being choked by vines against the wall of the Creel house.

But they had to at least get out alive so they could all regroup.

When the vines suddenly let them go, Steve had a sinking feeling in his gut that someone had done something stupid.

That someone had lost.

“We have to go!” he yelled to Robin and Nancy, hoping they would follow him quickly.

They didn’t have time. They may have already run out of it.

—-------------------------------------------

Running into the trailer park confirmed some of what Steve was thinking.

The bats were circling something, someone, and he already had a terrible gut feeling that that someone was Eddie.

That Eddie would have never let Dustin be in this position.

That Eddie was going to die.

He could hear him yelling, damn near screaming as the bats continued to dive towards him.

Steve couldn’t quite make out his entire body, but saw him desperately trying to stab at them with his homemade spear.

“Find Dustin,” Steve said to Robin. He turned to Nancy. “Use every bullet you have left on these things.”

“What are you gonna do?” she asked as Robin rushed towards the trailer that had been mostly boarded up.

“The bat is all I’ve got, but it’s better than letting him do this alone.”

They were missing fire.

They needed fire.

“Eddie!” Steve yelled as he got closer, smacking a bat midair when it tried to attack him.

“Steve, go! Just get out!” Eddie yelled back, sounding completely terrified.

“You’re not doing something stupid on my watch!” Steve yelled back.

The fight turned into a blur as he heard a handful of gunshots go off, a few bats falling, but still alive.

Eddie had managed to skewer one on his spear, but while he tried to fling it off, another one started wrapping itself around his middle.

Eddie’s scream echoed through the trailer park, and Steve froze.

That was a scream that happened right before death, right before someone’s last moments.

Steve wasn’t letting that happen.

“I’m out!” Nancy yelled.

“Go find hairspray and a lighter!” Steve yelled as he managed to beat two more bats away from him and Eddie.

He knew Nancy hated taking orders, but he also knew she was smart enough to know they didn’t have time to question anything.

They were used to working through emergencies with very few resources, with their plans not working.

“Steve!”

Steve would never forget the way Eddie yelled his name.

It was like he used what little remaining energy he had, like he was asking for help while knowing it was already too late.

Steve saw a flash of something out of the corner of his eyes, movement by the trailer that could have been more bats or could have been Nancy coming to help.

“Eddie, don’t give up, please,” Steve begged as he swung his bat. “Dustin would never forgive you. I would never forgive you.”

Maybe it was harsh, maybe he could have said something else to get him to keep fighting, but he knew it had to be at least a little effective when he saw another bat get speared on his stick.

His arms were getting tired, and he knew Eddie’s must have been too.

“Found some!” Nancy yelled to them.

Steve ran towards her, not wanting to waste any time waiting for her to get to them and risk the bats taking a bite out of her, too.

It was a large can of hairspray, thank God, but it wasn’t completely full, which meant he needed to use it sparingly.

He held up the lighter and the hairspray, pointed towards the bats, and started to spray.

The first few bats fell quickly, shriveling up a bit as the flames ate at their skin.

But he couldn’t quite get to all of them.

He kept spraying a path to Eddie, needed to at least get everyone back into the trailer to go through the gate.

Eddie was on his knees, blood on his face and hands, struggling to keep the spear up, already dropping his makeshift shield.

He was pale, and Steve could tell just from the quick glance he gave that he would die down here if they didn’t move much faster.

“Nancy, I need you to walk Eddie to the trailer while I spray. Do you have any bullets left?”

“No, gun’s jammed,” she said.

“Of course it is,” he sighed. “Alright, help him up, I’ve got your back.”

Being down here was about trust, something that Steve didn’t have much of with Nancy, but it wasn’t an option right now.

It was trust each other or die.

It wasn’t easy; Eddie was already weak and continued to get weaker every moment. Nancy was doing all she could to keep him upright and moving forward.

Steve was using up all of the hairspray just trying to keep the bats away from them as they moved to the trailer.

He could tell he was running out, knew they wouldn’t quite have enough at their current pace.

He needed to switch with Nancy and carry Eddie or they’d all end up dead.

“Nance, need you to take this and I’ll take Eddie.”

Again, she trusted him. She didn’t argue, she just grabbed the lighter from him, nudged Eddie over to him, and grabbed the hairspray.

It went much faster with Eddie on his back.

Steve had to ignore the pained groans leaving Eddie’s mouth every time he got jostled, knew if he stopped now, they’d never make it.

“He’s bleeding!” Dustin yelled when they got inside.

“Go, Dustin!” Steve yelled as he heard Nancy shut the door.

It wouldn’t hold for long, and it would take some time to get Eddie through the gate.

“No, not without him.”

“Dustin, go, man,” Eddie said from over Steve’s shoulder.

His voice sounded weak, wet, like he was slowly swallowing his own blood.

Nancy pushed Dustin onto the chair and between her and Robin, they managed to get him through.

Robin went next, knew an adult would need to be on the other side to help catch Eddie.

“Steve, his eyes are closed,” Nancy whispered to him before trying to help him readjust in his arms to get him through the gate.

“Eds, stay with us. We’re so close,” Steve begged, not stopping his movements.

“Steve…” Nancy said, her hand on Eddie’s wrist.

“No! No, Nancy, he’ll be fine. Just help me get him through.”

She wordlessly helped keep Steve stable as he got on the chair.

Eddie’s blood was all over him, but he wasn’t going to stop.

Eddie wasn’t breathing, but he couldn’t let him stay here.

“See you on the other side, Eds.”

—----------------------------------------------

The hospital room was empty except for Wayne in the corner, sleeping.

Steve refused to leave until Eddie woke up, so he was sitting by his bedside, hand on Eddie’s in case he woke up.

He hadn’t slept in the near 24 hours since they brought him here, hadn’t even gotten up to clean off in the bathroom in Eddie’s hospital room.

He was gross, and he knew the smell coming off of him was enough to make someone gag, but he wouldn’t leave.

He promised he wouldn’t leave him.

“You look like shit,” a raspy voice said.

Steve’s eyes zeroed in on where Eddie was smirking at him, eyes barely open.

“You and me both,” Steve said breathlessly.

“Well, my excuse is I almost died.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but bit back a sob.

“Wouldn’t have let that happen, Eds.”

Eddie searched his face for a moment before closing his eyes.

“Most romantic thing someone’s ever done for me, ya know,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Using hairspray and a lighter to save my life. How’d you know to do that?”

“The rules of haircare are simple: keep hairspray away from open flames unless you want fire,” Steve shrugged. “Was that really the most romantic thing someone’s done for you?”

“It’s tied with staying by my bedside until I wake up.”

Steve blushed.

“It’s alright, Stevie. I know you don’t mean it like that. Go home and rest,” Eddie said, sinking further into his pillow.

“What if I did mean it like that?”

Eddie’s eyes shot open.

“What?”

“Thought maybe we could go to the diner when you get out of this place. Sound okay?”

Eddie blinked slowly, his eyes still never fully opening from the drug induced haze.

“Eds?”

“Uh. Yep. We can do that.”

“Awesome.” Steve squeezed his hand once. “Oh, and if it’s okay with you, I think I’d like to kiss you when you’re awake next time. Just to make sure you know we’re on the same page.”

“Uh. Okay.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Eddie slipped back into unconsciousness a minute later, and Steve finally let himself relax a little.

They may not have left with a total win, but he was leaving with a date.

[teddywesworl]

ok y'all said you want director's commentary so I'm gonna start by saying a couple things about 🪑 since it recently celebrated 2k kudos

🪑DIRECTOR'S COMMENTARY LET'S GO

1.

A fun fact about the poems at the beginning of each chapter is that I took two of the poet's classes in college, and she might be solely responsible for convincing me I was a good writer and should pursue the skill. I don't know how she'd feel about me using her poetry to thematically frame an explicit fanfic, but that's neither here nor there.

As a poet, she (I'm not naming her here in case she might possibly name search on tumblr, lol) is obsessed with transformation and with the discord between the material and spiritual self. Blackberries, Brambles in its entirety goes as follows:

Akhmatova wrote, "O look!—that fresh dark elderberry branch is like a letter from Marina…" And she was right, branches criss- cross, words sharpen. We lop them down, fit them into envelopes. But I forget: you don't do letters: Too much tangled in thickets and desperation. Did I say envelopes? I meant elevators. See, I've snagged favourite sweaters in high rises, snarled hair in hedges, given up skin scrapings for blackberries, tongueburst, the sweet stain, explosion under light canine pressure. Don't you just wish you were a dog sometimes? No panic. Romping through brambles. Even in delirium, near death, Akhmatova remembered. Her bitter friend had been dead a long time. Love. Don't think I'm thinking about you. Anything but you.

Akhmatova here being Russian poet Anna Akhmatova, and the Marina in question is Marina Tsvetaeva. You can go on as much or as little of a research spiral about them as you like; many of the layers of this poem are in the reference to Akhmatova and Tsvetaeva, but I was mostly interested in the commentary on the cost of pleasure. I've snagged favourite sweaters in high rises, snarled hair in hedges, given up skin scrapings for blackberries. What are you willing to pay for happiness? Wouldn't it be nice not to think about it? Wouldn't it be nice not to be afraid to pay?

2.

Obviously the other major literary framing device is A Room With A View. The movie, specifically, but obviously the Forster novel as well. A Room With A View is about the clash between tradition and modernity, familial duty vs. adventure and romance, etc. etc. etc. And like, listen, the Duffers have not put this much thought into Steve Harrington, but his arc, despite them, is that of the ultimate privileged 80s all-American masculine symbol taking a slow, deliberate turn toward Otherness. He was supposed to die a static character. He did not, and now we're all writing fic about it.

I probably didn't need to have Eddie literally whack the point home with a hammer with the you're Lucy line in chapter 2, but here we are.

3.

The other bits of ~Art~ in the Steve chapter are Elton John's The Fox and Bruce Springsteen's The River. As follows:

But if you’re wily, you will leave them lying, snared up in the traps that they set for you, Elton sings. And it’s an evergreen affair— Steve lifts the record out and replaces it with The River. Springsteen sings, you're walkin' tough, baby, but you're walkin' blind and that’s not really better.

The Elton John record, you may recall, was a compromise between Eddie and Nancy. The inclusion of these lines in particular was very vibes-based, but hopefully the vibes are semi-coherent. Snares. Traps. The hunter, the fox. Btw the next lines after these are:

As temptation taunts the fox Into the hunter's waiting lair

Which, okay. Teasing out the vibes just a little. Argyle interprets Nancy as Lucy (and implies, without meaning to, that Steve is Cecil--a character that represents old money and tradition and duty and, like. Being trapped). Nancy would probably also view herself as the titular Fox. And Steve has bought into this line of thinking! He sees himself as the snare! He has internalized the idea of life with him being a trap! He is Bullshit, etc.

Eddie complicates this self-concept. Through him, Steve becomes the Fox and Lucy. Temptation taunts the fox into the hunter's waiting lair, after all. And, you know: 🪑🪢

(The Springsteen lines are just. All Steve.)

Ok I have to go feed some horses. More.... later. eventually.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Civilian Asset 1.

Polyamorous/femme/female reader x multiple

Summary: Your job was supposed to be easy. Just take a flash drive through customs. Now there's blood under your nails and a threat to your life.

Master List / Next chapter Warnings: Violence, peril, panic attack/anxiety

Inaccurate military because COD MW is inaccurate (it's a fantasy, friends, and we're treating it like one).

A/N: Don't ask. I don't know what I'm doing here either. Hello, new fandom?

1.

There’s glitter stuck to the blood on your hands.

It all twinkles and shines in the sickly yellow glow of the alley’s one unbroken street light, and you wonder how long it will take the blood to dry, to turn flaky and dark in the crevices of your palm. It’s already going tacky. As the bass inside the club jars your heartbeat out of rhythm, you settle back into the skin under the blood, remembering you have your own, and you don’t want it to join the puddle seeping into the cracks of broken concrete at your knees. You wonder how much time you’ve lost.

Run, he said.

It isn’t the kind of order you sit and think over. It’s a do-or-die command, and you’re struggling to do much of anything as pins and needles creep through your legs. How long have you knelt there? How many songs have rolled through the speakers while you drifted? Probably too many.

Run.

He admitted he might’ve been followed. You remember that. And you remember the intel whispered in your ear as you pushed down on the bullet wound in his abdomen, fighting to recall every first aid lesson you learned in high school and college. Pressure – actively bleeding wounds needed pressure, so you’d put your weight on your hands as the party music pulsed through the cracked-open door you thought you’d slip back through after the usual handoff. But instead of taking a thumb drive or notebook and getting a little tipsy before calling it a night, you tried pushing his soul back into his body as the blood welled up between your fingers.

You tried. It wasn’t enough.

The body already smells. You didn’t know corpses stank so quickly after death. Now you do. It was a gut wound. Maybe it’s his last meal you smell, turned half to shit in his bowels.

Fuck.

You need to run. You need to get out of the alley. You need to stand up and wipe the blood off your hands so you can slink onto the Tube without getting the cops called on you.

With a clear series of actions in mind, everything switches to autopilot, and you move without really meaning to. His jeans work as a towel for the worst of gore, and a discarded wad of bar napkins near the door are clean enough to sponge away the red from between your fingers. Rust colored stains linger around your fingernails, but your dress has pockets – something you’d thought absurdly wonderful a few hours ago – and hopefully no one will be looking that closely, anyway.

Your numbed legs wobble as you approach the main street, making you look a little drunk without conscious effort, and you slip into the current of university students and tourists heading to the Underground. You board a train back towards your hostel, and pat your pocket as you sit, subconsciously checking for the intel. Of course, it’s empty, and a spike of panic flairs in the split second it takes you to remember there is no physical evidence this time. Your contact broke the rules and poured dangerous secrets into your naked ears. The mole was compromised. The dead drop became a little more literal and a lot more dangerous, and the man barely had enough time to pass his info on by word of mouth to the next link in the chain. That link, the handler, scurried away with a hole in his gut and just enough time to meet you, the courier, passing along word of the threat like a burning coal to scorch you.

You aren’t supposed to know anything, but you can’t keep your eyes closed and your hands clean, because you’re the only one who knows anything at this point.  Every safeguard between you and immediate danger is dead.

It isn’t supposed to work this way. You’re just a courier, a very literal civilian who can add a USB drive to her collection without suspicion on your way through customs. A digital nomad with lots of stamps in her passport and dozens of good reasons to be in any convenient country. Nobody important, but a very useful mule.

Keeping your eyes off the data you carry is supposed to keep you safe.

In theory.

In practice if keeps the people you deliver to secure. You don’t get names. You get meeting times or dead drop coordinates. But tonight…

Tonight it’s all gone to shit.

And somewhere out there, someone wants you dead.

You don’t even flinch when the man across from you heaves into the middle of the carriage. Everyone else cringes and shouts, but the specs of vomit on the tips of your ankle boots aren’t the worst thing to touch them in the past hour.

Those filthy shoes march with you from the train, up the stairs to the surface, down the lane to the cheap hostel where you’ll have space to fall apart and figure out what the fuck you’re supposed to do. You don’t leave bloody footprints as you move; you check over your shoulder to see if you’ve left a path for the killers to follow. Nothing. Like you’re just one of the backpackers cackling over drinks in the lobby common area.

You’ve never been more grateful for having splurged on a private room as you unlock your door and sprint for the toilet. It’s your turn to puke, and you shake as burning tears and snot stream out with the bile.

Fucking dammit.

Each heave wracks your gut, your chest burns, and your throat is on fire. You know your head will hurt the second the adrenaline wears off – if you live that long – after all this crying.

How do you fix this? Is this something people can fix? You couldn’t even keep enough blood in the man’s body. You literally could not run for a solid – what? – fifteen minutes? Thirty?

You’re going to die.

Another heave locks you in place with a strangled scream as your belly tries to eject your panic and fear. There’s nothing left, though, not even water. You’ve wrung yourself out, so maybe it won’t smell as much when bullets, or knives, or fucking plastic shivs aerate your torso. Maybe it won’t be as awful for whoever finds your body. You’d hate to pass on that curse.

And it hits you, as you pant for breath, a string of saliva dangling from your chin: A lot of other people are going to die if you don’t get yourself together.

That’s enough. Just barely. But you shuffle back from the toilet, wiping your face with toilet paper before climbing the sink. The cool porcelain grounds you, and the cold water on your face and in your mouth helps, too.

The water in the basin turns pink, and you remember the blood in your cuticles and under your nails as it fades and spins down the drain. It hasn’t stained. It lingers along the bed of your nails and the ridges that will turn into hangnails eventually, but if you scrub, you’re sure you can get it off. For a minute, you’d forgotten you could wash blood off skin, that it wouldn’t sink in and brand you. It’s a relief. A stupid relief, sure, but it pulls some steam from the whirlwind of angst trying to launch another round of dry heaves, so that’s good.

A few specs of glitter still flicker up at you, twinkling under the bathroom lights like so many little eyes.

Okay.

Right.

Okay.

You can do this.

Figure out what it is you’re doing first, though.

You can just leave. Check out of the hostel, get a new plane ticket, and get the fuck out of the country. You can also pretend it didn’t happen, just continue as normal. Your original flight back is booked for the day after tomorrow, which seemed like nothing a few hours ago. Now those hours stretch into oblivion.

The problem is this damn city. London. City of a thousand cameras. The Nanny State. It was almost impossible to get around without getting caught by a few dozen electronic eyes, and if the people powerful enough to take out two trained agents wanted to see who the handler met in the alley outside the club, they probably could.

You should assume as much, at least. So, staying was out. But was it safe to just zip off to the airport? Would they be watching?

There was one other option. The option you’d always been told wasn’t really an option until you had no other choice. They had you memorize a phone number, only to be used in the direst emergency, and insinuated that you should think twice even if you had a knife to your neck. You hope that means it reaches someone important. There’s no time to play climb-the-chain-of-command.

Your shaking fingers punch the wrong numbers three times as you struggle with smooth glass and shattered nerves, but eventually you get the right sequence, you lift the phone to your ear, and the call goes through.

A click. A woman’s voice. “Yes?”

“This is, uh.” You stammer your name, your location, but when you get to the situation, your thoughts start falling apart. “They’re dead. And he may have been followed? And I don’t know what – I don’t know what to do.”

A chair squeaks on the other end of the line, and you can hear the focused frown sharpening the stranger’s words as computer keys rattle. “Take a breath. One thing at a time. I need to understand what’s happening. Now, who’s dead?”

You follow her advice, because breathing is always a good idea, and you’d like to keep doing it as long as possible. Her other instructions help more, though. They give you a sense of direction, a clear path forward.

“The handler. I never know the names, but he – he’d been shot when he came to the meet, and he said his contact died, too.”

“Was he able to complete the hand-off?”

Cool lips coughing up secrets against your ear, a shaking hand fisted in the front of your dress to keep you close, fingers going slack and falling from your arm.

You hesitate, only a beat, and try to wipe the blood from your memory. “Sort of.”

“Sort of isn’t good enough. Did he give you the intel or not.”

“He told me the intel.”

“He… told you.” She confirms, with tone alone, that this is bad news.

But now you can tell her, and everything will be okay. That’s how this is supposed to work, right?

“He said –”

“This line isn’t secure.” She cuts you off, and the bright hope curdles in your chest. It isn’t over, then. “You need to debrief somewhere safe. You need to get out of that hostel and wait for the team I send to retrieve you, understood?”

“Understood.” You want to shake, purge the anxiety from your system like sweat. The fear vibrates inside your bones, but the phone stays steady in your grip. You’ve turned into a statue, a marble shell wrapped around an earthquake. “Where do I go?”

She gives you an address to a safehouse, tells you how to get there without drawing attention to yourself. Hopefully.

“Any advice?” The chaos inside needs an outlet or distraction, and maybe the woman at the other end of the line can hear that, because she plays along.

“Move fast. Keep quiet. Stay alive.”

Shrugging as you pull on new clothes that won’t draw as much attention as your little black dress, you nod along. “I’ve heard worse tips.”

“You’re a step ahead of anyone trying to track you,” the stranger says. She speaks low and slow, like you’re a skittish horse ready to bolt, and even if you feel marginally infantilized, you appreciate the fragile illusion she weaves: that everything’s under control, that you know what you’re doing, that everything will be okay.

With the last of your things stuffed in your backpack, you grab your room key and head for the door. The hostel has remote checkout. You just need to drop your key in the box. “Leaving for the safehouse now.”

“Good. I need to brief the team coming to meet you. Keep your phone handy, and call me when you arrive.”

“Or if something goes wrong?”

“Or if something goes wrong. Be careful.”

The line goes dead, and you begin your trek through the dark. Stepping out of the warm, lively hostel and into the night feels like stripping naked and jumping into the water with sharks. Sure, the hostel wasn’t a great place to defend yourself, the doors were thin and the locks fragile, but it had walls. It felt safe. Now you’re exposed, and the vulnerability creeps over your skin like ants.

You take a night bus in the wrong direction, laying a false trail in case anyone is trying to follow you through camera feeds. Then you cut across ten city blocks on foot to find a new line heading the right way, and sit in the illuminated interior like a product in a butcher’s display. Dead meat. You feel obvious. Foolish. You’re following the woman’s directions to the letter, but inexperience gapes under your feet like an open pit, waiting for you to trip and fall so far down you’ll never get back up again.

Every stranger reads as a predator. Every camera holds malicious eyes.

It takes thirty minutes to walk to the safehouse from the last bus stop, and you make the journey with a white-knuckled grip on the strap of your backpack and a pulse so loud you struggle to hear over the drumming in your ears. The light pollution blots out the stars, it’s a new moon, and the streetlights only make the shadows beyond their miniscule pools of light darker.

By the time you find the safehouse and fish the key out of the little box hidden in the bushes, your hands are shaking again. The tension crackles like static through your nerves, blunting your focus even as your senses sharpen to the point of discomfort. Is the rustle behind you just that plastic bag rolling down the street, or is someone stalking you? The breeze feels like breath on the back of your neck, and every hair stands on end as you wrestle the key into the lock and trip through the door.

You slam it closed behind you, past caring about disturbing neighbors or drawing attention. This is like walking the long dark hallway to pee in the middle of the night as a child. You know there’s a monster behind you, but if you look it will eat you. If you run it will pounce. And once you reach safety, you gasp for air the same way you do after diving to the bottom of the pool. All you did was walk, but you feel as if you nearly drowned.

Your ass meets the floor, knees folding with the door at your back. Quivering fingers press over your mouth, trying to silence the wavering pants that may just turn into sobs if you can’t stuff them back down.

“Fuck.”

Blindly groping over your head, you find and turn the deadbolt. It takes more energy than it should, and you allow yourself a minute to recover before tugging out your phone and making the promised call.

The woman picks up after the first ring.

“I made it.” You take a deep breath. Let it out again. Your head drops back and your eyes slip shut as your heart gradually stutters down to a reasonable pace. “Locked the door and everything.”

 “Good.” She sounds like she’s smiling, and you wonder if she’s actually amused or doing the whole horse-taming schtick again. “Your escort should arrive inside two hours. Just sit tight, okay?”

You haven’t even turned the lights on. You’re afraid to let anyone know you’re there, and it’s nice to be the one waiting in the dark this time. “I can do that.”

“I’ll let you know when they’re approaching.”

“Thanks.”

She hangs up without pleasantries. And you’re entirely alone again.

In the silence, you listen to distant traffic and a handful of dogs sounding off on the twilight bark. The world waits outside, but you feel like a weed yanked halfway free of the soil. You fit into that steady rhythm yesterday. Maybe you ferried some secrets to try and make the world a slightly better place, but fuck if you weren’t ordinary.

The debriefing is the goal, retrieving the intel you carry. Keeping you alive and relatively safe until that can happen makes sense, and you don’t blame the stranger on for focusing on the immediate issues. But you can’t help wondering what happens after that.

You consider for the first time since the alley that even if everything goes well, you might not make it home.

[kadextra]

Okay this is gonna be a lot of thoughts but this is how I’m currently understanding what’s happening in the lore of q!Bad

That very first stream in the desert? q!Bad was dying, the nuke damaged him so severely man was walking towards the light. he was completely focused on that, even drank the poisoned water (theorized to be river lethe water that erases memories) and since he couldn’t remember anything, just followed his instincts that told him to walk. BUT he turned back, because he ended up remembering his kids. his friends. he needs to stay alive for them.

“It’s not time yet. Not yet.”

I think him turning back interrupted the death process- which is why we’re having all these consequences now. in the library-memory analogy he talked about? maybe his memory index wasn’t fully wiped, and by turning back it’s almost like it got shattered into pieces too? that could be what all the q!Bads running around in the desert are

“We don’t know how we got here, but we’re here!”

The memory problems, the soul vulture wounds, the horrible nuclear wound, he is bearing with all this suffering because no… can’t die yet. I’ll deal with this horrible radiation damage and half-life until it eventually decays. Sure, I’ll burn it on magma to hopefully accelerate it, make it go away faster. What? I’m not coughing, you’re imagining things…

And in his mind q!Bad is desperately holding onto the tethers that keep him coherent (the eggs, the flowers) likely without even realizing it. because as soon as they disappear from sight his mind blinks out like a light. the worst part about this though, is that he doesn’t even know it’s happening. he knows about the radiation wound yes, but has zero memory of his own memory loss. :(

He is losing control, mind a chaotic mess, and maybe that chaos is what’s symbolized by the giant tornado which so carelessly flung him around.

Tbh q!Bad is probably near-death every night which is why he keeps ending up back in the mind desert (the realm of sleep and death touch after all). To fully recover from all this damage he would probably need to continue walking, then would eventually end up back on track with following the light and finishing the process of dying:

“Maybe you guys are right, maybe we just need to pick a direction- just pick a direction and walk. maybe if we just walk far enough, we'll find our way out... (stares at cornflower symbolizing Pomme) but I don't know. It just feels... like I'm leaving something behind."

bro is never going to do that lmao. if it’s up to him, he will never be able to leave his kids, his family, and die. he is fighting to stay alive in his broken body no matter how much it hurts

“Worst case, die and reset. If you don’t want to… then bear with it.”

[lizard-shifter-noms]

Still Subject to Change Chapter 9 (NEW)

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Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i'm sorry.

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Seeing the forest come closer I was actually relieved to finally be out of here and looked over my shoulder to see that the tower really was built to keep big Monsters in there with its thick walls and embedded spikes.

I shuddered and hoped I would never see this thing again, so turning back I instead focused on the treeline and not stepping on anyone.

Yep, still weird to think about that I could end someone's life with a single misstep and I tried not to think about it, and instead just drag my feet over the ground so that if someone were to be there they'd get toppled over and not squished under me.

Reaching the Forest's edge I assumed that they would let us go now, but it seemed we were still too close to their Kingdom so we had to walk into the forest even further.

I didn't dare speak out of fear that they would shoot me, but Robin seemed to have no such concerns.

“When are we there? I want to talk to Donovan, also where's Arthur?”

I tensed at his last Question accidentally squishing Arthur a tiny bit making him move more than before and I hurried to hold my breath and cut off his air supply, however that worked.

He stopped moving after a few seconds but this sure had been a scare, if he had woken up and someone noticed it we would have been fucked.

I still felt incredibly guilty but it couldn't be helped, I just hoped he'd understand.

I almost missed the guy's answer as I was busy holding my breath and my attention was focused more… inwards.

“Oh you can talk to your big friend later ALLLLLL you want as for this Arthur guy? He's been taken care of don't worry”

I did Not like the condescending tone the Guard had used but I couldn't really do anything about it which frustrated me even more.

At least Rikaad was able to step between them and shot a death glare at the offending guard who actually backed up a bit.

We continued walking in silence, safe for the Guards communicating amongst themselves.

I could feel Arthur lying limply against my insides, only moving occasionally and sending a thrill up my nervous system whenever he made a bigger movement.

I tried to Ignore it but since he was literally inside me that was near impossible, and I couldn't help but worry about the feeling.

What if that's what the Bracelet made me do? What if one day it urged me to eat someone for real?

Shoving these thoughts down I instead focused on the road so I wouldn't trip, and I could see that the tower was a bit further away now.

I really hoped they would just let us be already but it seemed that we were still too close to the Kingdom for their comfort.

At this point we had already passed the spot where I got shot at and were led even deeper into the woods towards the mountain.

Coming to a bigger clearing they ushered Robin and Rikaad to be in the center and threw both of them a bag, probably their own stuff judging by the clunking sound of metal.

The Guards still surrounded me, but I wanted them to go away already so I could talk to Robin and try to find a spot where I could let Arthur out so Rikaad wouldn't see it.

Arthur himself was still peacefully asleep, courtesy of a low oxygen environment and had thankfully not woken up during all of this.

But I did dread the part where he would, I didn't know how he would react and it scared me.

I also had to fight to keep my hand from settling over the warm lump in my core so as to not give away anything to the Guards.

The Guards walked around me to stand at the treeline of the small clearing, I didn't move as I really didn't want to step on someone.

Suddenly a Horse came up with an ironclad knight on its back.

The rider removed the helmet and i could see that it was the king, nobody else i knew had such a monobrow.

Did he follow us? I immediately became worried, Would he tell the others that I ate Arthur? I hoped not.

The guards all stood in a line next to him with their crossbows loaded.

I had a bad feeling about this and I was proven right as the king suddenly had a wicked grin on his face.

“SOLDIER! AIM! SHOOT THE BEAST! I WILL NOT TOLERATE SUCH A MONSTER NEAR MY KINGDOM!”

Aa all the Guards suddenly aimed their crossbows at me.

I didn't even wait to see what they would do and Instead turned to run in the opposite direction, snatching up Robin and Rikaad as I did so and getting the hell away from there as fast as I could.

Ignoring Rikaads surprised shout i just ran towards the mountains to bring as much distance between us and Maringand as possible making sure to not drop either of them.

Feeling Arthur start to move again I held my breath once more hoping that he'd fall back asleep even with all the movement.

It took longer than before and sprinting while not breathing made my lungs burn but after about three minutes he was still again.

I really hoped none of the others had noticed him squirming but glancing down while running showed that Rikaad was focused on the way we came, probably looking for any pursuers and Robin was just Clinging to my fingers.

I ran until I could no more, occasionally holding my breath to prevent Arthur from waking up.

I didn't really know how long I had been running but as I looked back I could not see the tower anymore and it was well after midday.

I sank to my knees gently letting Robin and Rikaad to the ground while I panted, my lungs burned from running and holding my breath and I did my best to calm down as fast as possible.

I did not want Arthur to wake up now from all this, not now at least.

I was still trying to figure out how to handle this and having him wake up now would be extremely awkward.

Rikaad seemed to stand Guard and looked in the direction we came from.

“We should continue after you rested, then we can figure out what happened to Arthur and how to get him back”

Ah fuck i really needed to make a plan.

Looking at Robin instead to make sure he was alright too and I didn't grab him too harshly I saw him staring at me, or more specifically my middle.

While I sat there I had unconsciously put a hand over my Pouch where Arthur lay and I yanked it back, looking at Robin and putting a finger over my lips to tell him to never say a word about it.

He nodded but still tilted his head at me with curious look in his eyes, i would tell him later what had happened, when I got the chance to do that without Rikaad listening in.

Being hunched over like this made the weight in my core just a lot more prominent as Arthur was lying on what was previously the front wall.

Getting up again and holding my breath anew even if I still felt like I needed more time to rest.

And feeling Arthur slide around in my pouch when I was hunched over was a bit weird.

I wanted to go as far away as possible as fast as possible from that place so I forced myself to continue on.

“Alright let's go i want to never go near that hellhole again we can worry about Arthur when i'm sure i wont get shot again”

I slowly stood up and went to walk even more towards the mountain.

I was glad that riding on horseback through the woods was not a good idea, otherwise we'd have to worry about that too right now.

Holding my breath again I went in the direction of the mountains in a straight line, not like there were any roads here anyway.

Robin scrambled after me and Rikaad started to walk faster too to keep up.

“It is going to be dark soon we should look for a campsite if possible”

At Rikaads words i looked around, it was indeed getting darker, How long had i been running?

No matter right now I needed to get Arthur out without the others or at least Rikaad noticing and I still didn't have a plan on how to do that.

So we ended up setting up a temporary camp near a river, still far enough to not be able to see said river but close enough to get water, and I felt extremely awkward the entire time.

I had their Friend within me for fucks sake! And the only one that didn't know was Rikaad at this point.

It didn't help that I had to fight with myself to keep my hands from straying to settle onto my middle.

If Rikaad did notice my odd behavior he didn't say anything about it luckily.

I kept frequently holding my breath to make sure Artur did not wake up and hoped to God that this wouldn't give him brain damage from the low oxygen he had been exposed to for some time now.

The Dark came as soon as we managed to light a fire, The crackling sounds provided a soothing white noise and I finally got an idea as I saw in the glinting light how dirty my legs had become.

And not just my legs, everything about me was dusty and on some spots downright caked in dried or fresh mud.

So I stood up and on the other two confused looks told them what I was going to do.

“I'm going to wash myself in the river, stay here i don't want any of you seeing me without clothing”

Robin looked a bit confused at first but then nodded, motioning a thumbs up, he'd been weirdly quiet since the capture.

I would talk to him later to make sure he was alright but for now I had other things to deal with.

Rikaad just made a dismissive hand motion and instead focused on the fire so I left to go a good bit downstream, away from where they could hear or see me.

I went a good bit further than that to make sure that even if it got loud they wouldn't notice, which took about five minutes to walk.

I had stopped holding my breath while walking and I could feel Arthur start to move again as I took deep breaths to supply him with fresh air.

The movements were confused at first, then a curious hand prodded my insides before he went still again, not unconscious, more like a stiff weight that held itself and it seemed like he was terrified of moving.

I even heard him say.

“Oh fuck”

I finally allowed myself to put a hand on my abdomen and poked at him, receiving a surprised noise in response.

“Arthur? Are you okay?”

He shifted confusedly for a second before answering.

“What? You ate me, why would you ask that?”

He seemed still a bit groggy so I would do one thing after the other for now.

“I didn't really eat you, but can you tell me if you're okay?”

I was a bit worried over the fact that I had essentially kept him in a low air environment and hoped I didn't damage his brain or something.

“What do you mean by that? And uh… well i Feel fine? wait-”

He started shifting a lot and I had to bite back a pleased hum at the feeling of having my insides rubbed, I didn't want to scare him after all.

“What the FUCK! Donovan, what the hell is going on?!”

He suddenly was a lot more energetic, seemingly having figured out that he'd been in there for some time now and was still okay.

So best to finally explain this…chaos.

“First off you're fine! And you will stay fine! You're not in my stomach okay?”

“Where the hell am I then? You fucking ate me!”

Well there was the anger, but now I knew that beneath that anger was fear, so I would try my best to reassure him.

“You are in my pouch not my stomach, basically i have some of my organs doubled but not all of them work so you're fine and nothing will happen to you in there”

He seemed to freeze at my words, likely trying to comprehend what I just told him.

Then I felt an indignant kick against my insides.

“WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THIS SOONER!”

Now he really was angry instead of afraid and I sighed.

“I literally couldn't! Not with that Monobrow guy listening in! He would have killed us both!

Besides You said it yourself that you couldn't act to save your life! I'm sorry that I had to do this but it's better than death isn't it?”

He seemed to calm down at my words, probably realizing that I was right.

“So wait, are we still in the tower or why are you suddenly talking to me? And how did you manage to keep me asleep during all of this???”

At least those two questions were easy to answer but I hoped he wouldn't get angry again at hearing that I had deprived him of air.

“We are not in the tower anymore, i got us as far away as possible when we got out, as for keeping you asleep well uh- I just held my breath so you'd get less air?”

He didn't kick or punch me, instead he just flopped backwards against the walls of my pouch.

“You know what, okay why not? Are at least Robin and Rikaad okay? Wait, do they know I'm in here?”

I decided to try and answer the questions in the order I heard them.

“The others are okay, they are at out camp a bit away and no the don't know where you are, at least Rikaad doesn't, and i'd appreciate it if you'd never tell them about this, i'm not keen on getting stabbed by Rikaad to be honest”

He shifted again a bit and I had to suppress another delighted hum.

“So if we are away from the tower can you let me out? No offense but i don't like this and i never want to repeat it”

Walking a bit into the stream after chucking my shoes onto a boulder to keep them dry while he talked I could understand that he didn't want to do this ever again, so as long as he promised to not tell anyone I'd let him out as soon as possible.

“Of course I'll let you out just give me a sec, also can you promise me to never tell Rikaad about this? I'll help you come up with a believable cover story if you want”

Coming up with something would probably be difficult as he admitted to being a bad actor, so something simple would have to do.

Feeling him move again to sit up I walked even deeper into the widest part of the river, but the water still didn't go over my entire legs so I just stood there in the calves deep water listening for his answer.

“Yeah sure, i even swear on God to not tell Rikaad unless you tell me to, now get me out of here”

“Alright… try to go limp… i'm going to get you out now”

I felt a squirm of confirmation as I pressed in with my hand, and tensed up as I forced my body to throw up the form in my pouch.

Feeling something travel the wrong way up your esophagus wasn't by any means pleasant but I was used to it by now from the years of hiding valuables in there.

It wasn't long until I felt the cursing form of Arthur reenter my mouth and I plucked him out with two fingers, dangling him over the river in the pale moonlight.

“Fucking hell! How long was I in there? And set me down already! I hate this!”

I couldn't really set him down right now as I stood in the middle of the river and he would get swept away by the cool water that flowed around my legs so I instead cupped him in my hands.

He was a lot less slimy than I thought he'd be but still needed a wash to get rid of the bit of slime that did cling to him.

“One second, unless you want me to dump you in the river, also how are you? Are you okay?”

I walked back towards the riverbank so I could set him down.

“I've seen better days to be honest, and i'm sorry for what my uncle did to you guys”

Setting him down slowly onto the rocky dirt covered shore I went to wring out the hem of my shirt that had gotten wet when I bent over to get Arthur out before what he said registered in my brain.

“That Was Your Uncle??? What? Wait a sec, if that guy is your uncle then-”

He interrupted me before I could say another word.

“Yes my dad was the King, but frankly i didn't really know him aside from when i had to stand at his side during some stupid events, and no i'm not sad that he's dead i never cared about being some stupid royalty, at least i wasn't inbred like some of my other relatives”

He seemed to shudder at the last bit and not entirely from the cold.

“I thought Winton had told you who i am, ah fuck, how about you don't tell anyone about my royalty status and i keep quiet about the pouch thing okay?”

This did seem like a good deal but one thing confused me.

“Deal! Though, Who the fuck is Winton? Is that the monobrow guy? Don't tell me That ugly fuck is your uncle”

He flopped over into the mud of the riverbank groaning.

“Yes he is, i like to pretend that he's not though, i hate him”

That was completely understandable, I had only been around that guy for about a day and I already despised him as much as physically possible, and Arthur had to live with that for who knew how long.

Though now we needed to come up with a reason as to why Arthur wasn't kept captive anymore.

“So, any idea for a cover story? You know Maringand better than me”

He flopped onto his back in the dirt sighing.

“I'll just tell them i escaped through the sewers, as disgusting as it is it's believable enough and they probably won't ask for details”

That sounded good enough, I knew I wouldn't ask how someone crawled through a sewer, or at least not expect them to answer it.

“So can we go back now? I want to actually see Robin and Rikaad again”

That would be nice, but suddenly coming back with Arthur might be a bit suspicious, there was no way he would have kept up with us, especially since he had way shorter legs than I did and I had done an Adrenaline fueled sprint away from Maringand.

“Not a good idea, you suddenly turning up this fast is going to raise questions so maybe not today, ehh Night i mean”

It would be even better if he backtracked a bit so when Rikaad would usher us back to get him we'd ‘meet’ him on the way.

“Maybe even backtrack a bit? Rikaad is going to go back to get you anyway so if you go back a bit we meet you there and it's more believable”

He slowly sat up, now having mud stuck to the back of his shirt and put a hand over his face.

“Yeah that is a plan, not one im looking forward to but im not going to admit that i was eaten and didn't even do anything to stop you, that's just awkward and kinda embarrassing”

At least he shared my view on that point, so I went to sit next to him in the mud.

I would wash that anyway so I wasn't concerned with getting it even dirtier.

“Well you better get moving then, you have to go downstream and a bit to the right”

I pointed to where he had to go and he slowly stood up and started walking, even if his legs seemed to be moving a bit weirdly, they probably fell asleep in the time he didn't use them.

I was right in my guess as Arthur actually did comment on it.

“Dude my legs are wonky, how long was I in there? no wait don't answer I don't wanna know that, see you and the others tomorrow?”

The last part went an octave higher and I could clearly see that he was worried but did not want to show it.

Instead he started to walk through the woods and I hoped that I hadn't just made a mistake, After all, the woods were still dangerous and now he was unarmed.

I REALLY hoped I hadn't made an irreversible error but he was already out of sight so I went back to striding into the river, planning to finally get all the dirt out of my shirt and pants.

The cool water felt Pleasant against my sore legs and while I just let the stream wash away the mud on my pants I took my shirt off and swirled it in the water a few times to get everything out.

Dragging the now heavier shirt out of the water i wrung it out a few times before realizing that if i put it on again i'd likely get a cold or something, So the shirt had to stay off until it was dried.

Ah Fuck.

That ment i had to go back to the camp shirtless and try to dry it against the comparatively small fire we had.

I hoped no one would take offense to the fact that my top half was naked, but knowing Robin he'd more likely ask about my scars than complain about me missing my shirt.

Standing on the riverbank I wrung out my pants as best as I could while wearing them and slipped my shoes back on as I started to walk back, trying all the while to wring out my shirt as best as I could so it would dry faster.

I returned to a happily flickering fire and saw Rikaad inspecting Robin's face, apparently checking for bruises.

I realized with a pang that I might be too big to see small injuries, at least Rikaad was here to assess them.

Upon hearing me come back two heads simultaneously looked at me but Rikaad went back to checking Robin over who grinned at me.

Something was wrong with his teeth but I couldn't figure out what, I was too far away and probably too big too.

I sat next to the fire and put my shirt as close as I dared, I didn't want it catching on fire after all, then gave a worried look over to Robin.

“Are you alright? You've been weirdly quiet since we left Maringand”

He motioned for me to get closer and I bent down to be more at eye level for him.

He showed off his teeth and I finally saw what was wrong, The tooth behind his left canine had a small piece missing making his canine appear far more pronounced, like a fang.

No wonder he's been so quiet that must have been painful.

“How did that happen? Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

He shook his head, making his messy ginger hair bounce around his skull.

“I'm fine, one of the Maringand Guards told me to shut up and hit my teeth, but that aside where did your shirt go??”

I was glad he seemed to be okay and gestured vaguely to the shirt lying next to the fire.

“I'm letting it dry before putting it back on, not keen on catching a cold out here”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rikaad nodding.

“A good idea, though we should rest soon i will take first watch”

He did have a point in that, we really should sleep soon and i could put my shirt back on tomorrow as embarrassing as them seeing my scars was i wouldn't risk a sickness right now.

“Is that where your kidney is missing?”

I flinched a bit at the question, it seemed Robin had come closer as I stared into the Flames of the campfire and was looking at the pale line of scar tissue at my side.

“Yeah it is, i'm glad i punched that guy when i did or had have killed me for sure”

He seemed to stare at it a bit longer before his gaze became that glazed over look again for half a minute.

He snapped out of it and shook his head.

“You have any more scars? You don't have to tell me though!”

Well I did have a few more but most of them were from mundane stuff like falling off a tree or climbing into small spaces, though there was a long thin line across my back doing shoulder to shoulder that I received from a blade.

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