#this is basically just ode to arm

[silveredsticks]

Frank Nazar's first NHL match. 14 April 24 x . x . x

[francis-writes]

A/N: I love this request, there's nothing better than inherent subtextual eroticism of fighting together and trying to kill each other (Fr it's good for all kinds of bonding; i spent a year learning judo and self-defense and there's something real about friendship and trust between two people who every week throw each other on the floor, strangle each other and twist each other's arms)

you knew how to fight, at least the basics. Enough to defend yourself, but there's never too much fighting skills in this dangerous world. Especially when you live on Giedi Prime

When you asked Feyd if he could teach you (after all he was a famous warrior), he immediately agreed. He enjoyed every occasion to fight and even if he wasn't going to kill you or maim you, the idea of training together still made him happy (and turned on). It's just two his favourite things mixed together: you and violence

Your training together included many things; building your strength and stamina, wrestling barehand, fighting with many weapons (mostly knives but also iron bars, whips, swords etc)

No matter how much affection he holds for you, he's a teacher with high standards so don't count on any special treatment. He attacks you, like he would attack his real opponent and if you don't have good enough reflex, then next time act faster. He won't hurt you (more than a few scratches and bruises) but Feyd points out every time you make a mistake

Even if you are tired or not in the mood, he kinda forces you to it, just like Gurney Halleck forces Paul. It's well-meaning, considering that danger doesn't choose a moment when you're perfectly relaxed and full of energy

When you get better, he offers you a fight with a drugged up prisoner. What you say to that is up to you

NSFW: even though he's a professional warrior and these lessons taught you a lot, they really often ended up in sex (not even in the bedroom, poor servants had later more trouble with cleaning floor od training room than usual). It was enough that during fight he pressed you to the floor. Or you put a knife to his throat. Or you got scratched and started bleeding (he will immediatelylick that blood off). That's why Feyd can never took you to war.

[amymbona]

Messy boyfriend Patrick Zweig x sick f!reader

Warnings: none, the tiniest bit of cursing

Word count: 1,5 K

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Patrick is the messiest boyfriend ever, I'm convinced. He's never taken the family life too seriously before, it was always just a little fuckie-fuck, perhaps a night spent at the girl's place if she whines loud enough upon him getting up from the bed, but you changed it all.

With you, Patrick has learnt what a relationship truly is about. Despite him swearing to be the alpha, you are the giver. And the only thing you actually take is care about him.

It's little details. Details that never crossed Patrick's mind before. You make sure to bring him a little snack to practice, some protein sticks (you've noticed he likes the ones with little pieces of banana the most), dry his damp forehead with a towel and let him know when the laces on his shoes are undone. It's natural, almost automatic, for you to cook for him, to wash whatever clothing article he leaves at your place, to take motherly care od Patrick. With you, he has discovered a whole new world of tenderness and soft love.

He's so smitten with you, so eager for the attention and care that you are willing to give him. He's looking forward to every meeting of yours, and not only for the inexpressibly satisfying moments you two share naked in bed, but mainly for the little kisses you'd plant on his forehead and all the kind words from your mouth. But when you don't show up to his place one day, he's immediately concerned.

Patty poo: where r u sexy?👅

Y/N ❤️: sick :(

Patty poo: omw

Y/N ❤️: can u buy pads?

"I didn't know what size." Patrick basically breaks the door to your place from its hinges, pattering to your bedroom where he's met with the sight of you in bed.

"Hey." you smile tiredly, rubbing your eyes. It appears you're not even close to crawling out of the comforting warmth of your blanket, voice slightly sore as if you've just woken up.

Two plastic bags in his hands, Patrick plops down on the bed next to you. He leans in, kissing your forehead tenderly, eyes roaming over your face for all the possible signs of sickness. There are purple circles pronounced under your eyes and your expression is significantly less enthusiastic than usual.

He begins unpacking the contents of his quick shopping spree, dropping three packs of different size pads onto your blanket. "Why's there so many sizes, Y/N? And what the hell are wings for? You need fucking doctorate to understand that."

It makes you laugh, laugh at how incredibly adorable your boyfriend is. His confusion is so adorable to you. "That depends on how much you bleed, honey." you let him know and pick up one of the packs. Luckily, he chose your favoured size.

"Women are weird." Patrick mumbles under his breath, showing you some sweets he bought for you. Your favourites again. "I got you some gummy bears, oh, and the chocolate chip cookies you mentioned the other day. I got ones with white chocolate too."

"Baby -" you attempt to silence Patrick but he's too focused on rambling, tongue flicking over his pink lips as he keeps talking. So you try again. "Pat. Can you make me some tea?"

Oh, the sight of you. His perfect girlfriend, always the mom among the two, bound to your bed because of your period and some cold you've caught god knows where and from god knows who. Your eyes are heavy and the smile on your face is almost nonexistent from how tired all your muscles are but, god, are you still a piece of art. In Patrick's eyes, you are utterly flawless, whatever condition you are in.

"Sure, baby."

Patrick is on his feet within a second, jumping around your apartment like a lamb. Closing your eyes, you let your head drop back against the pillow, throwing an arm over your warm forehead. Your tranquil state is disturbed as Patrick yells from the kitchen where the fuck do you keep your cups, as if he hasn't been in your apartment before. "Above the sink!"

And he's in your room again, carrying five packagings of different tea flavours in his hands. "Which one?" he asks in a small voice, an obviously worried expression on his face. You peek one eye open, chuckling at the little disaster your boyfriend is. One box rolls down the makeshift column and falls between Patrick's feet, earning a soft goddamn from his mouth.

"None of these." you respond softly, shifting in your bed with a small groan as pain shoots up from your lower tummy. Reaching to the bedside table, you fish for a issue. "In the cabinet by the fridge. Little green box. 'S called bronchial tea or something."

"Okay okay, don't speak medical to me." Patrick rolls his eyes and disappears in the kitchen once again.

For few more minutes, you're allowed some rest in the silence (aside from Patrick's heavy footsteps and the sound of the kettle running), and you almost manage to fall asleep. That tired you are. Unfortunately, the bed dips before you could wander into the world of dreams and a tender touch on your forehead.

"Fuck, you're burning up Y/N." Patrick stammers, setting the full cup of steaming tea on your bedside table. Some of it pours onto his fingers but he's not concerned about that. His main focus on you, your well being. "What do I do?"

He's right, your skin's definitely a bit more warmer than usual. A bit too much, actually. And Patrick doesn't like that. He doesn't like that he's so unsure and incompetent that he can't even take care of his own sick girlfriend. What if it's more than just a cold? What if you are actually slowly dying but he's too daft to notice that? He doesn't want you to die because of him.

"Just... Gimme the thermometer." Patrick obliges, helping you stick the thingy into your armpit where it remains for a few minutes, the quicksilver scale running up as it takes your temperature. Slightly above 38 degrees Celsius. "Not that bad."

"Not that bad?" Patrick basically scolds you, once again pressing a palm to your forehead, his palm too big that it covers your eyes too.

You smile tiredly, slowly grabbing Patrick hand and placing it on your cheek instead, nuzzling into the softness of it. Oh, you could fall asleep in his gentle hold, you could fall asleep even in the middle of an apocalypse if Patrick was there, holding you in his arms. "I'll just sweat it out, Pat. 'M gonna be okay."

"Sweat it out? You think that's gonna work?"

"Yes, baby, it'll work."

So he springs up once more, almost running to your wardrobe and pulling out various clothing articles. It's like an avalanche when Patrick pulls a woollen knit sweater over your head and two pairs of warm socks on your feet. In the thoughtful mother manner, he smooths your blanket over your aching body, tucking you in and ensuring there isn't a single a single gap that would allow anything even remotely cold to caress your skin.

"Okay, okay, all nice and snug." Patrick stands straight, dusting off his hands. There is a proud little smile on his freckled face. "And I... I can clean up the place a bit, hm?"

Solicitude is practically flowing through his veins as he wants to lift all of the possible worries off of your mind. It's the least he can do to make you feel better, to repay everything that you have ever done for him. You are the sun of his cloudy days, the flower in his field of rotten plants. There isn't a single thing this man wouldn't do for you.

"How about you stay here with me?" you offer, a soft, sheepish smile on your face.

He's by your side in the blink of an eye, an arm around your shoulder, tucking your body against his side and smoothing down the blanket over your body once again. He's like a heater too, only that it's not caused by fever as well. It's the natural warmth he emanates, the walking image of family comfort. "All good?"

"Even better." the delight in your weary voice is evident and the smile on your face full of appreciation. "Can you hand me the tea, please?"

"Sure, sure." Patrick helps you take a sip before setting the cup back on the bedside table. Again, his arms are tight around you, urging your head gently against his chest. "Anything else you need, baby? Another pair of socks? Gummy bears? Or I could-"

"Just stay here, be comfy and hold me." you silence him with a gentle collapse of your body onto his, face snuggling into the crook of his neck where his skin is the warmest.

On an instant, Patrick's muscles relax and he envelops you with gentle care, arms tightly wrapped around your slim figure. His fingers run through your hair gently, tucking back the strands that fell from your ponytail as a result of your constant squirming and altering of positions. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Good."

"Good."

It's safe to say, that during this afternoon, you sweat out more than you thought you ever could, heat passing through your body as you're locked in your boyfriend's iron hold. He kisses your forehead every three seconds and aids you to sip on your tea, all while ensuring you remain nice and snug. Finally, Patrick gets to repay you all your gentle care and every tiny act of service directed at his person.

[thegnomelord]

The option c of demon hunter and demon ghost getting married by mistake remind me od a movie on netflix i watched before

A cop pick up a red envelope on ground making him doomed to either marry ghost of dude or back luck forever so he end up going through marriage ritual to get rid of bad luck and all pf a sudden BOOM ghost dude stuck to him all time it was not a joke he married man but both of em didn't want it and big misconception happend in ritual ( basically they ask ghost if they like chosen groom using rocks ghost can move and rock accidentally moved a bit much so went from no to yes ) it was hilarious plot

Dude YES that's the exact type of misunderstanding that I was talking about. Like the worshippers are going like "oh prince of darkness do you desire a sacrifice?" while Ghost is invisible and just having a laugh at these foolish humans, when they don't get a response they go "Do you wish for a bride?" and Ghost just accidentally knocks a candle down with his tail or bumps his dump truck ass into a door making it close.

So the followers just shrug their shoulders and go find the first person to be Ghost's bride, aka the homicidal demon hunter that is the reader, and promptly 'wed' them through a ritual they got off bing and instead of giving your soul to Ghost, it instead binds you two together.

The ritual forces Ghost to appear right in front of you, and with the adrenaline rushing through your system you blindly throw a punch in Ghost's face your arm gives out mid way through as if denying you the violence you want to commit and instead you end up gently caressing the demonic skull that is his face.

Ghost tries to use his claws to slash your throat open, but the same happens to him and he ends up gently cupping your head like a lover would, neither of you able to hurt the other.

And both of you are just like HUH?????

[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]: 23.7k

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

[𝙰/𝙽]: THIS IS A REPOST !! But I worked really hard on this and it sort of flopped so I'm hoping that maybe it might reach some now people (it has been like 7 months since I posted this so it's basically new again).

HAVE FUN!!

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

[zhounauts]

₊˚✩彡 — nutelloco for u ft. jake x f!reader warnings cursing wc 673 words

if there were zero fans of nutella acai bowls left on earth, that would mean that you were deceased, not breathing, and buried six feet underneath the ground.

so it was safe to say, when you went to the acai shop and were denied your order by the new, very cute cashier you were flabbergasted.

“what??” you ask, “you’re out of. . .the acai base??”

“yeah,” the boy says, “sorry about that, we’ve been having like uh some sort of shortage recently,”

“oh,” you mumble.

“you could get the nutelloco bowl instead! it’s similar, just coconut base,” he interjects eagerly.

“no, i’m good,” you sigh, “thanks though,”

“jake!”

“what?’

“oh uhm,” he mumbles, “i’m jake,”

“okay. . .?” he blinks at you, “i’m yn??” his blank face quickly widens into a bright smile.

“pretty name,” he tells you, “sorry about your bowl,”

you feel heat rushing to your face, before you quickly cough, “right, uhm, thanks, jake,”

“AGAIN??” you yell, much louder than you meant. you quickly quiet down, sending an apologetic look to other people in the shop, before slamming your hands down on the counter in front of you.

“okay,” you seethe, “let me get this straight jake,” he gulps. “an acai bowl shop is out of acai??”

“yes. . .” jake says meekly, “there’s a shortage! and like inflation and shit!,” he insists. you stare him down, “you could get the nutelloco bowl?”

“inflation and shit?? also why are you so set on making me order that??” you ask.

“it’s the same as the nutella bowl! just a different base,” he says, “just give it a try,”

“no thanks,” you mumble, “there better be acai tomorrow jake, or i will be fighting you,”

jake watches as you sulk out the door the second day in a row, glancing at your retreating figure. he can’t help but feel guilty as he stares at the very much full-stocked fridge full of frozen acai berries. one more try, or else jungwon might kill me for doing this

despite it being eight in the morning, you were on a mission.

you’re seething, fists clenched, as you stomp-walk down the pier to the acai shop, to confront a certain cashier about the fact that you know he has been lying to you, and preventing you from getting your order. you throw the door open, the door chime's smashing together, to find a very surprised jake setting up behind the register.

“oh you are so dead,” you exclaim, striding towards the cashier.

“morning. . .?” jake asks.

“don’t play with me,” you hiss, “i know you have that acai base, and you’re withholding it from me!” jake winces at your words, rubbing his neck in guilt.

"about that i-"

“don't give me a half-assed apology jake, you better give me a thesis statement on why you've been gatekeeping the nutella bowl from me and absolutely demanding me to get the nutelloco bowl! i know the nutella bowl's basic but it tastes really fucking good and i’ve been craving it—”

“cause i’m nutelloco for you?” he blurts. it comes out as a question, but as soon as you hear it, your words die in your throat.

“. . .what?” you ask, staring at the boy. his face goes red, and he crosses his arms awkwardly to stare at you.

“haha!” jake robotically laughs, “i was just joking actually! i’m sorry for what i did! i'll reflect and you can go report me to my boss, his name's jungwon, and his numbers actually 94850--”

“wait wait wait. let me get this straight,” you say, “you didn’t let me order what i want for the past two days because you wanted to use a cheesy pickup line on me??”

”yes. . .?” jake answers.

“you are a fucking dork,” you hiss, glaring at him.

“but did it work?” he asks. you can only stare at him, the words to deny him, stuck in your throat. you grumble, and turn away from the register, "did it?"

“get me that nutella bowl first, then we can talk whether or not i’m 'nutelloco' for you to,"

a/n stupid, short drabble but it is an ode to my love for acai bowls

@a-dream-bookmark

[macsimagines]

mikey, ran and sanzu w/ a s/o who is really shy UNTIL you get to know them better. once ran’s s/o is fully comfortable with him they’re probs both menaces 😭😭

TW:YANDERE CONTENT, MINORS DNI, DRUG MENTION

Yandere! Mikey Sano

He saw you hanging with your friends and then you without them, the stark difference made him feel some kind of kinship to you. He can understand what it's like putting on a front or even not exposing your true self.

So he goes out of his way to make you feel safe with him, at first it's just this weird sense of pity, a twinge at his heart that he can't describe but then you smile at him, you laugh with him and he has a name to this feeling in his chest.

Mikey wasn't trying to fall in love with you, but then you let him in and now he doesn't want out. Very few people are allowed within his inner circle but he wants you at the center with him.

Now that he's had a taste though, its not enough. He drinks in you, every ounce of just you like a man that's dying of thirst. When Mikey's interest is peaked good luck driving him off...

Yandere!Ran Haitani

His interest was thoroughly peaked. At first you caught his eye by being another pretty face at one of his clubs. He liked breaking in the shy types and with how you had your arms crossed to cover your body he already knew you were going to be fun to play with.

What he hadn't been expecting was catching the end of a conversation with one of your friends and really liking what he heard.

"Bitch, if I feel one more of these busted ass wannabe MGK lookin' muthafuckas touch my ass I'm gonna- uh...Hi?"

Oooo that tone switch when you saw him standing right next to you, he knew there was so much more there. Ran was a smart guy he could get you to open up.

A few fancy drinks and some well placed conversations here and there and suddenly you were so much more than a prospective conquest of his.

Don't think you're going home tonight, he's got a hotel room and a bed with both your names on it baby. Actually don't think you're going home ever.

Yandere! Sanzu Haruchiyo

Thought you were a stuck up bitch of a secretary to one of the other Execs. Turns out you're just quiet, which also doesn't really interest him much. But you don't talk much and let him just mouth off which suits him just fine.

He can say anything to you and you just nod that pretty little head and don't give much input, which is great because he doesn't want it.

"And then that motherfucker ODs in the middle of our deal! What a fucking pussy, punk ass light weight! Can you believe it!?" "Well...ya, I had to help clean up the mess."

That was probably the first time you ever spoke to him, not that he's complaining. He was more shocked to find he liked the sound of your voice than anything.

Now he constantly wants your input for everything. "The blue pill or red pill?" "Both, if you're not a pussy."

But be warned now that you're more interesting to him, he doesn't plan on letting you go anywhere else anytime soon. You're eventually going to figure out Sanzu basically owns you now.

[thecapricunt1616]

Blue Lotus - SxC One-Shot

♡ O/S Inspo: Blue Lotus - In Vedic Hindu tradition, the lotus represents enlightenment as well as purity. It is the symbol of the consciousness rising out of the mud of Maya and attaining its original nature or self-realization. 

♡ Summary: Carmen accidentally almost checks out of life permanently due to a migraine fucking up his vision, and Sugar flips & sends him off to a trauma rehabilitation center, Syd is realizing she finds it extremely hard to stay away from him.

♡ W/C: 7,616

♡ Posted Date: 04/06/2024

♡ A/N: This is my first SydCarmy fic aaa!!! I have a hard time writing in 3rd unless its not my characters, so writing in 3rd for them was okay! This OS is all thanks to the LOML - the person who FULLY turned me into a #SydCarmy4Lifer - @gingergofastboatsmojito - This fic was HEAVILY - heavily, inspired by hers - Tucson, It can be found right ❀ here ❀ - My only request is you go read hers if you are going to read this one!! Her SydCarmy fics are the best, and the only ones I really read, give her a follow because her SydCarmy theories are also out of this world. Also, YES GINGER - Stardust is .... a horse - ol' girl TOLD THEM she'd always be watching!! If you'd like to meet Madame in her human form, mosey on over here - this fic also heavily inspired me to write for SydCarmy hahaha. If y'all want more of Blue Lotus let me know! I have ideas for a PT 2 if it would fancy anyone :)

♡ Warnings for BTC: Accidental OD , Vomit, Sad Syd, but fluffy kinda!! Only lightly edited (we die like men), OC Carmy (IM SORRY) we all know he's down bad for her so maybe this can be considered IC Carm, because were just in his head more then watching him? But that's all basically.

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Carmen was sick as a dog. Well - physically- the mental demons never stopped nagging at his overall happiness level, but it had been a long time since he’d felt this horrible, physically speaking, at least. 

His muscles were aching, to the point any brush on his skin left a dull pain in its wake. His throat was swollen and sore, he had a terrible fever- his head felt like it was so full of pressure that it would explode. 

He’d never experienced a headache like this before. His vision was actually spotty, there were little blotches in his vision, that were... glowing? He wasn’t quite sure, it was beyond the realm of anything he’d ever felt or seen before. 

That was what must have caused him to grab his black bottle of oxydose he’d gotten after a root canal he had a few months back- rather then his liquid Zyrtec cold and flu liquid medicine. 

The pain in his head was so bad, he didn’t even question why the usual cherry flavor had been replaced with bubblegum, as he swallows straight from the bottle, before putting the cap back on and going back to the couch, collapsing in the nest of pillows and blankets. 

It was only about 10 minutes, and Carmy was feeling fine- no…Carmen was feeling… amazing. 

His limbs all felt very heavy, but he felt warm, and comfortable. As comfortable as he’d ever felt. He actually found himself thinking ‘have I ever felt this good?!’ And before he knew it, he was laughing to himself about how he should double dose cold medicine more often, because he felt as if he was on cloud fucking nine. 

He laid back on the couch, closing his eyes, and wasn’t sure just how long he laid there that way. It could have been minutes, hours, days for all he knew. The only thing he was thinking of, was her. He began wondering what she was doing right now, if she was adorably leaned over the counter, writing in her little notebook- her braids cascaded over her face like a beautiful beaded curtain. 

If the blood in his arms hadn’t been replaced with cement, he’d have grabbed his phone and called her, and poured out his entire heart to her. Because nothing else in the world right now mattered. Carmen had no other thoughts, the past didn’t exist, nor did the future. The only thing that existed in this world at this very moment, was Sydney. 

‘Psssst’ 

Carmen opens his heavy lids, just barely, his vision was blurry and almost doubled. “Mmm?” He hums, not even sure if he heard someone- or why he would hear someone. He lived alone, and didn’t hear anyone come in. 

‘Yo. Dipshit.’ Carmen knew that voice anywhere. 

“What?” Carmy looked around, and knew something was very amiss, when his brother was standing there in his living room, looking at him. He had this ethereal glow to him. 

“What the fuck” Carmen said, sitting back on the couch, rubbing his eyes.  

‘You’re nodding out right now. Here’s what y’gonna do.’ 

Carmen couldn’t do anything but nod his head obediently, was Mikey really here? He couldn’t be- he was hallucinating. 

“Monkey are you here?” Carmen asks softly, rubbing his eyes again to see if he would disappear. He didn’t. 

‘I’m as here as you’ll be if Y’don’t listen. Crawl to the fucking bathroom and throw up. She’s gonna be here f’you, don’t fight her’ 

Before Carmy could look back at him and question what he meant - he was gone. 

Carmen suddenly felt…much too hot. He tried getting up, but narrowly missed bashing his skull on the coffee table trying to get to the bathroom, so he decided to take his wise older brother's advice and crawl there instead. 

He didn’t finish the journey, though. He actually collapsed in the bathroom a few feet in front of the toilet, luckily on his stomach. 

He was catching all sorts of luck today, because Syd had insisted she go and check on Carmy, as he was supposed to be at work today but hadn’t said a word- and that was nothing like him. 

She got the extra key from Nat, and told her she would go check because ‘Pregnant women have by nature weaker immune systems’ and would blame herself if she ‘let Carmen get her sick’, so she convinced Sugar to let her go by herself. 

When Sydney had opened the door, the first thing that greeted her was loads of empty Gatorade bottles on the coffee table near the couch, and a random French cooking show playing on the tv. 

“Carm?” She calls, but when she saw one of his feet sticking out from the bathroom, she dropped her bag and ran, gasping when she saw him splayed out there in a puddle of vomit, looking sickly pale, with dark blue lips and fingertips. 

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO YOURSELF!” She shrieked, getting him on his side as fast as she could and quickly pushing the emergency button on her phone, putting the call on speaker and setting it to the bathroom counter. 

“Carmen? CARMEN! Wake up!” She slapped his arm, shaking him violently. “Carmen! Oh- oh god.” She said nervously. 

‘911 do you need fire, medical, or police?’ The woman at the other end says. 

“Medical! Medical my friend- oh god Carmen” she shakes his shoulders. 

“Okay what’s your emergency?” The operator asks 

“Uhh- I- he’s- so he’s thrown up, he’s passed out, his pulse is weak- he- his lips- t-they’re blue. oh Carmy” she touches his cold clammy forehead. “He- he’s- he’s cold oh my god why is he COLD can you fucking send someone Jesus Christ!” Sydney snaps angrily. 

“Okay- it sounds like he is having an opioid crisis ma’am, do you have narcan available?” The operator asked her and Syds heart drops. 

“No- what? No! He- he wouldn’t- his brother- he…get here!” She said frantically and quickly told her the address of Carmen’s apartment complex.

“Yes, yes you’re calling on an Iphone, ma’am - we have your exact coordinates. Just in case - do not try to make him throw up more, make sure his airway is clear- what is your name?” The woman asked her. 

“Sydney- my name is fucking Sydney - but it doesn’t matter! He matters! My god! His name is Carmen- C-Carmen fucking Berzatto! Put that in your notes lady! He- he’s 31- where the fuck is the ambulance?!” She uses all of her strength to get him leaned up against the counter. 

His vomit was getting everywhere, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t find a way to care, the only thing that mattered to her was that each breath Carmy was taking looked more and more difficult. 

“They are en route! Remain calm, how long have you known this friend?” The Operator tried to distract Sydney, since there was only so much you could do for an OD patient if there was no narcan. 

“He- he’s my…my partner we run a restaurant together. This doesn’t matter! Save him. Please! I can’t loose him!” She said, shaking his shoulders. 

“Carmen! You fucking asshole! What did you do!!!” She shouts at him. “You would never do this! What did you do!!!” She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, it didn’t matter though- Carmen wasn’t awake to see it. 

No, Carmen was far, far away. Somewhere floating between life and death, he felt like he was being embraced in the warmest most comforting hug he’d ever felt, he’d never been more comfortable in his life. 

But Syd, was in hell. Her own personal version of it. It felt like a lifetime before 2 paramedics came barreling into the bathroom, one of them holds Carmys head steady and the other sprays a full dosage of narcan in his nose. 

Sydney stood in the corner near the shower, shaking hands cupping her face absolutely terrified. 

Carmen was up now, nearly the second the paramedic hit the plunger release. He sits up with a gasp, eyes wide like a caged animal. 

“What the fuck.” He mumbles, looking at both of them before meeting eyes with Syd. 

“Syd?” He blinks a few times. 

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding “you asshole” she grumbles, wiping her teary eyes. 

“You’re home, you’re safe, you overdosed. Do you take opioids often?” The paramedic asked, putting a blood pressure cuff around Carmen’s arm. 

“What? No- what the fuck don’t touch me!” Carmen snaps, ripping off the cuff and whipping it across the bathroom “stop- stop! Stop touching me- get away” he shouted angrily “I’m fine” he hissed. 

“CARMEN!” Sydney barks, she’d never used that tone with him- so it was fair to say it very quickly got his attention. 

“You will let them do their job, dick. I just- I- I find you in a puddle of your own vomit on the bathroom floor- I couldn’t wake you up! So now? you’re gonna listen to them.” She said angrily, grabbing the blood pressure cuff from next to her leg where it fell and handing it back to the paramedic.

“Give him your arm.” She snipped. 

Carmen sits back against the bathroom wall like a dog being scolded, wordlessly offering his arm to the paramedic and keeping his gaze fixed on his lap. 

“192 over 96” the paramedic told the other. 

“Christ kid” the paramedic said, “gave you a fuckin dose of narcan and y’wired like y’re on coke” they helped him up and on the gurney. 

“Hes- he’s gonna be okay?” Sydney asked anxiously, watching as they buckled him in by his hips and legs. 

“He's gonna be fine in a day or so.” One of them responded. Carmen just looked away, the shame and embarrassment already looming over his mind like a huge storm cloud. 

“I’m gonna…I’ll- I’ll clean up, and meet you at the hospital, ok? And I’ll have sugar meet you” she told Carmen and went over, giving him a hug. 

He couldn’t understand. It made him slightly angry how sweet she was being to him. He was putting her out, he was fully fucking up her whole day- but all she was worried about was him. 

“Syd..I’m fine. Thanks. But I’m fine. Don't- just…ugh no- please- I’ll do it. Just go- go home. take the day” He said, gently patting her back. 

He wanted to throw his arms around her and never let go, he wanted to kiss her- he wanted to hold her and tell her he would never leave her again. He wanted to tell her he loved her. 

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would, or could for that matter, since he didn’t even realize yet that was what the feeling in his heart really meant. 

“Thank god. Thank god you’re fine, Carm. What would I do without the biggest pain in my ass?” She teased. 

Even though Carmen was hurting all over in a way he didn’t realize was possible, his lungs were aching, as was his entire body, and he felt as if the pressure behind his eyes were going to make them pop out - he smiled. It was slight, of course. But it was there. 

“Couldn’t get rid’a’me if y’tried, Syd.” he told her. 

The ride to the hospital was Carmen’s nightmare. They insisted on the stupid flashing lights and sirens, since his blood pressure was ‘dangerously high’ so he was at risk for a heart attack, and then rolling him out on a stretcher in front of all his neighbors was nothing short of a god damn dumpster fire. 

He was never home, but like hell he’d ever intentionally show his face during the day again. 

The hospital was even worse, he got plugged in to all these monitors and had an oxygen mask, got poked and prodded with needles, and was told he was being put on a 24 hour psych hold per hospital policy after an overdose- just in case he’d been trying to end his own life. 

Sugar got there shortly after the nurses had finally let him be, when he heard her loudly telling them “CARMEN! BERZATTO! Like bear! B-e-r-z-a-t-t-o!!! Where IS HE !” He ripped off the oxygen mask, knowing if she saw him that way he’d never live it down. 

Even though it really was helping ease the ache in his lungs and the pain in his head, he was willing to deal with it for his very pregnant sister not to worry. 

Her heels click as she storms down the hall to his room, ripping the curtain back. 

“Oh- Bear” she said, bursting into tears and rushing up to him, hugging him tightly. “Oh my god, bear. Never do that! What did you do? No- no- you aren’t in trouble, you aren’t in trouble, Carmen. I love you. You just worried me! You made Sydney cry Carmy! What the fuck- what happened?” She cupped his cheeks, observing his exhausted face. 

“Oh you’re sick- you’re so sick- Carmy” she felt his forehead and cheeks with the back of her hand like she did when they were kids. “It was an accident, right, right Bear? You wouldn’t do this?” She said, more pleading him than asking.  

“No. No. No sug, no- I- I’d never. I just fucked up! I’m fine. I’m fine. C’mere” he hugs her close, kissing her head gently. “Stress isn’t good for the baby bear” he joked, hoping it would get her to lighten up. 

“Carmy stop” she pushed away, looking at him seriously. “No. No. This isn’t okay- nothing - nothing about this is okay, bear! You almost died! Syd said- “ she shook her head. “Carmy. I- we can’t do this. We can’t. You’re right.” She sniffled, sitting back in the chair next to his hospital bed and wiping her tears. 

“What- what do you mean?” He sat up a bit. 

“I- if you….i can’t watch you like this anymore, Carmy. I can’t- I can’t see you wither away. Fucking emotionally anymore. It’s killing me. It’s hurting-“ she took a shaking breath. 

“It’s hurting your niece. Carmen. I can’t do it anymore. here.” She dug around her purse, pulling out a brochure. 

“Go- go. Get out of fucking Chicago, Carm. This place- I-i heard of it” she sniffled “its stupid-“ she laughed a bit, shaking her head. “So stupid, fuckin this..this Astrologer. She said in her podcast that this is the best place to go based on the location? I dunno…it’s a therapy place” she said. 

Carmen looked at the Brochure, his brows raising. 

‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ the front contained photos of absolutely breathtaking pine trees, mountains, as well as red cabins. 

‘Blue Lotus is tucked safely away on Big Bear Lake in Big Bear, CA. Come and experience an inpatient by day, outpatient by night 30 day program, along with 15 days of sole inpatient TF-CBT therapy, focused on your direct needs as a patient. We specialize here at Big Bear in Equestrian Therapy, and Cattle Therapy. Enjoy hiking on hundreds of miles of breathtaking trails, and get to know the stunning haven that is Big Bear, California.’ 

“Horses.” Carmen looks at her, unwavered. 

“Yes! They say they like- get us or something? You’ll be back before I give birth. Go. Carmen. Go. Or- or I can’t work there, anymore it-“ she shakes her head, looking down at her swollen belly as hot thick tears stream down her cheeks. “It’s like watching Michael…again. In a different way” she said quietly, wiping her face and looking up at him once again. “Please.” She whispered. 

He shook his head, setting the stupid brochure down on the bedside table and laying back in the bed, grabbing the oxygen since his head was beginning to pound again and putting it back over his face, averting her worried gaze. 

“I don’t have the energy to call these people” he muttered, closing his eyes and resting his head back, hoping that would be the end of the conversation. 

“I- I already got you a bed. I called them…on the way over- I begged them. And they are willing to take you, Carmy. Please. I’ll pick your cabin and everything - you- you stay in a cabin after the 15 days and then for 30 you go back and forth. It sounds so nice, bear. I know they’re gonna take such good care of you think about it- please- will you go?” she got up, pulling him into a hug. 

“Thank you” she whispered after a few moments when he didn’t decline her. 

Carmen didn’t reply. If Sugar really thought that stupid place would make him ‘change’ (if that was even possible) and if she really felt as if it was affecting her child that was growing inside of her- he would give it a try. Even though he felt as if it would be just another money pit in the name of ‘mental health’ that didn’t do a thing. 

“There’s dead man walkin’!” Richie said, Syd following in behind him. 

“Stop! Don’t call him that Richie it was scary!” Syd shoves his shoulder. 

Carmen grabbed the brochure, quickly tucking it under the blanket. 

“Fuck you, cousin” Carmy said, his voice all nasally and low from his flu or whatever the fuck he’d picked up, that had led him to giving himself a cocktail of meds that almost sent him to Michael prematurely by total mistake. 

“Carmen is leaving. As soon as he’s released. So- get your time in he won’t be home for a month or two” Sugar said and sat down, not budging on the issue. 

Carm just rolled his eyes, laying his head back and wanting to melt into a puddle on the floor, but at the same time, he also wanted to pull Syd into the stupidly small hospital bed, and hold her to him, never letting her go. 

“You are?” Syd asked, coming to his bedside and meeting his gaze. 

He just stared at her. Wordlessly, he pulled out the crumpled brochure and offered it to her. She took it, looking at it. Richie comes over as well, peeking over Syd’s shoulder to read. 

“Equestrian therapy? Gonna go play with some horsies Carm?” He teased, his smugness being wiped off his face when Syd stomps on his foot with most of her weight, causing him to whine in pain. 

“Woops! Maybe you should learn some personal fucking space asshole” she shoved back in to him so he would take a few steps back. 

“Ow!” He said dramatically, plopping next to Sugar who was also glaring at him with equal fire. 

“Okay- okay- sorry fuckin hell. The kid is fine” he said and Carmen motions to him. 

“See! See! Jagoff is right sometimes” he said to Syd and she shook her head. 

“This…is good. This is really good. I’m for this.” She said, looking at Sugar before handing the brochure back to him. “I’m… gonna miss you, but…you need to get the fuck out. Like really, out, Carm.” She told him. 

He sighed deeply, resting his head back and closing his eyes once more. 

Whatever will make Syd happy, he would do, no matter the amount of discomfort it brought him. 

“Fine.” He mumbled.  

“Really?” Sugar asked him and he looked over at her, brows slightly furrowed. 

“Want me to fuckin fight you about it?” He snipped, already annoyed with how easy he was giving in- but he was too exhausted to fight, and Syds lavender perfume was so comforting, and so familiar. He just wanted everyone except Syd to leave, and to be able to hold her. 

That wasn’t going to happen though, probably ever was what he’d told himself. No, that would be too good, the universe would be much too kind to Carmy as to let him have the ultimate pleasure and enjoyment that would come from being with her in that way. 

“No…no. I’m sorry. Thank you, Bear. I know this is gonna be good”  Sugar said quietly. 

The doctor came in, saving Carmen from the uncomfortable conversation. “Hello again, Mr.Berzatto. I have your results here- is this okay company? If not I can have them step out for a moment” she’d said. 

Carmen had already completely forgotten her name, her name to him was simple - not Claire. Which was the only good thing to happen to him today. 

“As long as I’m not dying cause these two will pitch a fit. You can go ahead” he said, sitting up slightly in the bed. 

“No, no. you are very healthy, well- for the most part. Does your family have a history of high blood pressure?” She asked, sitting in the rolling chair next to the bed and holding her tablet in her lap. 

“Dad. Dad did, bear.” Sugar said. 

“Oh! Lovely- and did dad also have chronic treatment resistant depression?” The doctor turns to her. 

“I- I don’t know but…I know he was depressed for sure.” Sugar replied honestly. 

“And I know per your file you’re a smoker, heavy or moderate?” The doctor asked 

“Heavy” Syd buts in and Carmen didn’t even have the energy to fight either of the women. 

“So heavy is a pack plus a day does that sound average?” The doctor asked Carmy and he nods a bit. 

“Sometimes…sometimes two. Depending on uh…how shit is” he cleared his throat. 

“Yeah, so we’re gonna need to reduce as much as we possibly can. And we’re also going to speak about treatment options. Have you ever done mental therapy?” She asked Carmen. 

“He’s getting help. Don’t worry” Sugar said, “he’s going to do a therapy program. Blue lotus? Heard of it?” She asked. 

The doctor nods with a slight smile. “That would be wonderful for you, by the looks of your chart.” She got up. 

“Visiting hours are over at 10 pm, he will need to remain here until at least 1 pm tomorrow afternoon- then he’s yours.” She headed towards the door, shutting the privacy curtain behind her before closing the door. 

Richie chuckled “hack job name” he muttered, rubbing his face tiredly. 

“What was her name?” Sugar looked over at him. 

“Doctor Ginseng?” He said, “isn’t that a- a fuckin-“ 

“A root. A very expensive, luxurious root. It can be put into tea, or soup…the native people of China believe it has properties that make your body better deal with stress” Syd said absentmindedly, staring at the clock while nervously twirling the end of one of her braids. 

“She got it” Carm said and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile, just a bit. He absolutely adored the way if Syd wasn’t beating him to the punch when someone asked a random food question- that she was teaching him something. 

Even after years in the kitchen, the hundreds of hours watching cooking shows, Sydney still managed to teach him. He was utterly amazed by her every single day. 

“That’s a good idea. I- I think we have some. Back at the restaurant. All the stuff here will be shit- I’m gonna make you tea. And soup.” she got up, grabbing her bag. “Don’t fucking die when I’m gone, Kay? Guess you need that reminder now” she told him. 

He rolled his eyes slightly “Y’don’t have t’fuckin make me tea Syd. I’m fine.” He said, but something deep inside him yearned for Syd to take care of him. He craved it. 

“I’m making the tea, and you’re drinking the tea. Be back soon” she said before heading out.

Sydney had stuffed Carm full of pastina chicken soup and warm ginseng tea with lemon, ginger root, and plenty of local honey. As well as sourdough bread that Marcus had made fresh that morning. 

They sat and talked, just the two of them for hours until visiting hours were over. The nurse had to actually warn them both that she’d told them 4 times already it was past visiting hours and she ‘wasn’t afraid to have people removed’ before Sydney finally hugged Carmy goodbye and left. 

They both took his leaving for 45 days extremely serious. They’d joked together about just how quickly and casually Sugar had whipped out the information, all put together so neatly - it was quite obvious she’d been waiting for an opportunity to ship Carmen off here. 

They laughed a bit, and shared stories, and of course Carm answered any and every question Syd had about running the restaurant on her own while he was going to be away. 

Syd had even pulled a chair up to the bed at one point, resting her legs across the mattress after taking her shoes off, and her legs were draped across his own. He didn’t dare say anything, though. He was relishing in the feeling of closeness with her, even if it was as close as they’d ever be.  

Syd had actually made him so excited that the nurse had come in when she first came back and Carmy realized they’d be alone, to realize he was perfectly fine- his heart had just settled at a new pace since she was around. 

He was feeling worlds better by the time he’d gotten to the airport on Sunday morning. He’d spent the rest of Saturday evening at Sugars after he’d been discharged from the hospital, and had one last close family meal with Syd, Richie, Nat, and Pete, well, Pete was a must - he couldn’t uninvite the man from his own house, unfortunately. 

Carmen would be in a hotel in Big Bear, California by nightfall, and by the following morning he’d be starting his 15 day inpatient stint at ‘Blue Lotus Trauma Therapy Rehabilitation Center’ tucked away on a farm, in a dip of Big Bear Lake. How fitting. 

The parking lot of the airport was full of tears, not from Carmy- of course, but a very tearful Sugar, who’d conveniently spent the rest of his hospital stay packing him 2 weeks of clothes to cycle through, explaining phones were allowed- but they gave the toiletries, since it was a mental health center after all. 

She kept hugging him, kissing his cheeks- as if she was sending him to war and not a fucking treatment center. “Is there…somethin’ I’m missing- am I never coming back er somethin are you selling me to some weird chef collector?” Carmen teased, getting at least a small giggle from her. 

“God no. I just… this will work Carmy. It has to work. You’ll get better, okay? It’ll all be fine.” She wiped her face. He nodded a bit. 

“It’ll work.” He said, he wasn’t sure if he believed it- but if it got her to stop feeling so sad, he would agree. 

“I love you, be safe ok?” She said for the millionth time “and remember look at your phone I sent you-“ 

“The flight number, Nat. I love you. Thank you again” he kissed her cheek, grabbing his suitcase and opening his texts, clicking his flight number she sent him. 

“Gate D11! Thank you Nat. Gotta go now- unless…” he teased. 

She smiled a bit, finally. “Get out of Chicago.” She pat his arm gently and got back in the car to a waiting Pete. 

The flight was okay, it felt much longer than he was expecting, but his anxiety told him a lot of things- he couldn’t trust minute things such as time and how he understands it anymore. The first thing he noticed upon landing was the stunning green, and the crisp air. 

The air felt…cleaner, then Chicago. It was chilly- since fall was quickly approaching. Carmen was suddenly grateful Nat had him put on a hoodie before leaving this afternoon. He had the entire evening to explore, and not be himself. 

He already was feeling some kind of new. He wasn’t here to work, definitely not to play, but he could enjoy himself, because he didn’t have to be him. At least not for the night. He opened the Uber app on his phone, booking a trip to the hotel to check in.  

When he’d gotten to the hotel and showered, dressing in some vintage Levi’s and a white long sleeve in trade for his short sleeve, along with his favorite plaid jacket. He had to get somewhere to see how people live here, how to be apart here, so he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb at this rehab place. 

He’d grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders and opened Apple Maps on his phone, looking for a park to go sit at and just be. He found a park close by, simply called ‘BearHill Park’ and following the walking directions. 

He’d missed his ventures to various parks in New York, but especially in Copenhagen. Copenhagen had the most beautiful sunsets Carmen had ever seen before. He missed it sometimes, not the work, but the life. It felt worlds more simple then his life now, where every relationship, every aspect of his job- was dripping with difficulty to manage it all. 

When he got to the park, he’d found an oak tree that looked well over 200 years old, getting situated under it and resting against the trunk, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.  

He watched a couple and a baby walking by, carefully though as he’d learned quickly as a child most people don’t take kindly to being looked at for more then a few moments at a time. But Carmen didn’t watch people in an odd way, of course. He was just wanting to observe, see how he should be. And in a place so new, so out of his ordinary all by himself, it was gonna take a lot of observing to get himself readjusted. 

He watched as the father pushed the carriage along, the mother holding his hand happily. They were far away so he couldn’t hear what they were speaking about, but it must be funny because their heads were tilted back in laughter multiple points throughout the conversation as they continued on. 

He continued on his cigarette, his eyes now finding a younger couple. He sat up a bit, leaning further against the tree to get a better look. From behind, the woman reminded him a lot of Syd, of course it wasn’t- but it was also the way her boyfriend or- husband- Carmen wasn’t emotionally advanced enough to look for a ring, he’d never needed to before.

It was how his arms were covered in tattoos, and his hair was a muss of dirty blonde curls like his. It was how the woman was beautifully tall, with stunning long black braids, and a floral scarf tied around the top of her head. She was much more…boisterous then Syd, but none the less. They looked like them in another world.  

So not only, has this other man, found his Syd, the universe was determined to rub Carmen’s nose in it, or that’s how he took it, anyhow. 

He scoffed a bit, rolling his eyes and looking the other way. Of course. He thought. Everyone can be happy but me. I’m headed to adult crazy camp! And those two are just, fuckin happy and in love. 

The girl laughed loudly, causing Carmen to look back over. “CAMREN!” She squeaked as he tickled her. “Cam! Stop- I-I can’t breathe!! You asshole” she punched his shoulder playfully. 

“Do you give up?! Say it!!!” The man countered, continuing the assault on her sides. 

“No- NO! This- this is cheating!” She said, interrupted by her own laughs. 

“Cheating?! No, I'm getting what’s rightfully mine Scarlett!” He pinned her arms above her head. 

Carmen now looked away. He couldn’t help but think of Syd while watching them, and think of everything he was too pussy to pull off. He wished he could take Syd somewhere like this, but who would run the restaurant, and why would she say yes. 

He’d finished his cigarette by the time the couple had left and he took out his sketchbook and the pen that lived inside of it. He looked at the recipe on his phone Syd had sent ‘Farro Mafaldine with browned Black Truffle Butter and Chanterelles mushrooms’ 

He had tried it for her, and he actually told her he wanted another bite to be sure he was ‘getting everything’ when really- it was just so fantastic he couldn’t stop at one single bite. 

“Syd that is…wow. Really, really fuckin fire. If it weren’t for the mushroom, we’d need that on the permanent menu. Have you tried others?” He’d asked. 

Syd just smiled and nodded, a lot of times she was around Carmen- she thanked god for her darker complexion, considering he made her feel overly hot, all the time. Nearly every time he spoke to her, and she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t always this way. But ever since they opened the restaurant together- things had changed between them. Not for better, not for worse, the energy just… shifted. 

Carmen got lost in thought of Syd, and before he could realize what he was doing- he was drawing her. He rested his elbow on his knee, crouched over as he added details to each intricate little braid. It was one of Carmen’s favorite things about Sydney. 

No matter how she wore her hair, she looked absolutely beautiful. The braids, he did have to admit, were his favorite. Maybe it was because it was how her hair was when they met, but they interested him. He wanted to sit and watch her doing them. She told him a while back, she did them herself. 

Apparently, her mother wasn’t able to teach her- but she had cousins that could. She says it was usually much more expensive to have it done then just do it yourself, that part made sense to him. He was really impressed the first time he told her, she laughed a bit at that.  

‘Most of us do our own hair, I mean- unless you got it like that. But otherwise, just like the white girls we have to do it on our own’ Carmen blushed, feeling silly for not realizing. 

‘Yeah- yeah I..I get that but. I dunno…I’ve seen Sug do her hair…it seems easier” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 

‘Oh, well yeah, that’s why I only do mine every 6 weeks!’ She’d said, wiping down the counter. 

‘Really? Well that’s cool. I thought you like…I dunno.’ He chuckled a bit. 

‘That I went home, took out 200 plus braids, and then put them all back in before I come in every day?’ She teased. 

Now Carmen’s cheeks were bright red. ‘Okay- listen I’m not a girl. I wouldn’t know’ 

Carmen caught himself smiling at the memory. He looked up at the setting sky, and his heart fluttered a bit at the beauty of it. He’d realized he’d sat there now for probably 5 hours, his back was aching, but he didn’t care. 

He didn’t care because this was the most at peace he’d felt since moving back to the states. And he was alone. He snapped a photo of the gorgeous sunset with his phone, hitting the send button and hovering over Syds name for a moment, before deciding to click it. 

She did tell him to text her when she got settled in after all. 

In CA - this place lives up to the name. Never seen so many bear statues in my life. 

He sends the text, with the photo attached, not even realizing the photo had been a live capture, and you could fully see the drawing of Syd for half a second if you held the photo down. 

He put his phone back in his pocket, continuing on his drawing. Back in Chicago, Syd was very glad that she was working today- because the only thing on her mind otherwise was one single person. 

“Okay guys! I need some hands here- we got 3 dishes for table 13 let’s move! Keep up the pace!” She called out. She had already been here 12 hours, and wasn’t planning on being out for another 6. 

It was just how Sydney operated - she couldn’t sit and worry about Carmen. It would just unearth emotions she didn’t want to go searching for, and once they came up she was worried it would ruin absolutely everything she’d worked so hard to maintain. 

And back across the country, 2,000 miles away, Carmen was contently packing his backpack, getting up, and heading to a small diner he’d seen. He enjoyed a quiet burger to himself, in the corner booth, looking out the window at the water. 

The place truly was beautiful, and very hidden away. There were barely any cars here, it was fully the opposite of anywhere he’d stayed long term, and he was beginning to feel as if he needed that, he wouldn’t admit that to sugar, though. 

He’d gone back to his hotel, taken a shower, gotten in his pajamas, and was laid in bed, watching some random cooking show on the food network since the TV unfortunately didn’t have YouTube like his did. 

When Sydney had seen the photo, she almost didn’t realize it was live at first. She was also at home, finally in bed- but she was 2 hours ahead of Carmen- so instead of it being 11 pm- it was 1 am. She’d scrubbed the restaurant floor until she was sure someone could eat off it, and made sure every station was in perfect condition before returning home.  

She laid in bed with sore hands, a sore back, and sore knees, and sore- well, everything. When she finally had checked her phone and seen it. She smiled a bit at the comment about the bear statues, clicking the photo open to see more. 

It was a breathtaking sunset for sure. She went to close the photo, her thumb lingering because she saw a speck of white in the corner- and the photo started moving. For just a short moment she sees…. Herself? On the page of Carmen’s sketchbook.

She could feel her heart thumping in her throat. Why would he be drawing her? Unless- no! Keep the emotions buried! He is sick. He is so depressed- treatment resistant depression the doctor had said his chart showed. 

She swallowed thickly, not sure what to say back. Should she just ignore it? Should she mention it boldly? Should she just…forget about it and convince herself it didn’t happen? 

She typed and retyped the message multiple times, smiling to herself a bit as she jokingly typed out ‘pretty sunset, even prettier drawing.’ Before deleting it and retyping before hitting send;

fire sunset. so I take it big bear is treating the bear well so far?

Carmen looked at the message right away, smiling to himself a bit. She’d never called him bear before, something about it made his heart begin to race. 

According to Nat, bear+big bear = depression gone, I’ll let you know in a few days if that's the truth.

He wasn’t sure about the whole equestrian therapy thing still, but he did know that being here seemed to allow him to breathe a little easier- and he was already here, so he would try.

The first 5 days in the inpatient program were…quite the adjustment. That was because it was what he learned was the most intensive part of the treatment, and meant to break down your walls by setting you in a hard routine so you had no choice but to think about your shit. 

This included a wake-up time of 6 am, the lights in his inpatient room literally turned on, then at 7:30 was breakfast, then- at 8 am they had 1 hour of either equestrian class, which you learned how to begin caring for the horses, or an hour of tending to the cows - Carmen chose the Horses because he was not going to shovel cow shit. 

Then, you had a therapy class of your choice from 9-11:30, he chose art therapy. It didn’t feel like therapy to him, they got to draw, or paint. Carmen just sat by the window, drawing different recipes - or, more often than not, drawing Syd from memory. 

12:00 was lunch, 12:30-2:00 you had mandatory either equestrian therapy, or cattle therapy. Carmen was more drawn towards the cattle on hard days, and the horses on easier ones. This was because the hour of 3-4 was mandatory group therapy. That usually emotionally drained him until at least art therapy the following day, since to progress and complete the program- you need ‘participation points’ in your 15 day inpatient stay, before you’re trusted to be on your almost fully on your own for a whole 30 days. 

The horses were usually nervous around new people, so it was a challange to get them to trust him. While the cows, people in the group joked- were ‘giant grass puppies’ the therapy consisted of literally just laying with the lazy cows and cuddling them, and feeding them snacks, which they very much enjoyed, and Carmen found to be very soothing once he learned to douse himself in bug spray before heading in the pen so the flys would be out of his way.

Then, dinner was at 5, and afterwards you had the evening to yourself in your room, or you could walk the trails until they closed at sunset. In your room you could watch tv, read, and the residents were also allowed to have their cellphones.  

It was quite exhausting the first 5 days, but the second 5 he was getting into a groove at Blue Lotus. He was beginning to enjoy the hard manual work that came with working with the animals, and the time it took to build their trust. There was one particular horse Carmen had become fond of, a white horse named Stardust. Perfect name for her. 

When he looked in her eyes she felt more human then most people he met in real life. She was different then the other horses. He’d been told that she rarely took to men, and that he was the only male she’d never need startled by. He always took extra time brushing her mane, and they both seemed to appreciate eachothers silence. 

Carmen heard other people in stalls next to him, they would talk to the horses- dump their issues they were too afraid to tell their therapists out on them. He wondered if the horses ever got annoyed, he probably would if he was a horse. He smiled a bit at the thought, and it was almost as if Stardust could tell what he was thinking, because she turned her head and looked at him before snorting almost in agreement and sticking her head back out of the stall. 

Getting into outpatient life at lotus though, was as easy as falling into bed for Carmen. His inpatient stay, he made sure to take the time in the evenings to learn his favorite quiet trails, the ones less taken usually, so when he graduated to outpatient - he could take stardust for rides on his own.

 It took them about 3 days to get to know each other in that regard, it was mostly Carmen’s fault though he realized, because when he’d get nervous he’d pull on her reigns in such a way that she thought he meant for her to go faster - when it was the opposite. But, Stardust was so, so patient with Carmen. 

He made sure to sneak her extra apples with a small drizzle of honey in return, so she knew her patience with him always came with great reward. 

Carmen had been gone for about a month now, he and Syd would text intermittently, sugar was sure to call once a week and they’d talk for about an hour. But it was mostly quiet from Carmen’s end, he had told them it was because he was usually out, all day long unless he was at therapy. 

It was day 19 of the outpatient part of the program, so he had just 11 days left. He had just finished his morning art therapy, and was in the stables tending to stardust, feeding her slices of pumpkin they’d had in the snack bucket for the horses today. “Come onnn- the tongue, really star” he wipes his wet hand on his jeans and she nudged his shoulder with his nose, asking for more. 

“You are greedy! I’m always the first one in here y’gotta leave some for the rest of these guys!” He grabbed another piece of pumpkin, feeding it to her. 

“And this is our horse stable, he spends a lot of time out here” Carmen heard one of the employees likely giving someone a tour, only half listening. 

Stardust snorts at him, nudging his chest and he rubs her neck gently. “What is it? Y’done? Pumpkin not good enough for ya? No honey apples until after our ride or Y’don’t listen missy” he pats her head gently. 

“I didn’t take you for a horse guy but I guess drop anyone off in the middle of nowhere and you’d be surprised. 34 days and you went full fuckin’ cowboy on me- are those boots, Carm? ” An all too familiar voice said from the large open sliding door of the stable He looked at stardust for a moment, he must be dreaming, or ODing again. Maybe he died, and had been dead the entire time. Because there was no way he could believe Sydney Adamu was standing behind him, 2000 miles away from their shared city, in Big Bear, California.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡♡♡ ⋙

[gingerjunhan]

how xdinary heroes shows affection

☆彡 Hi everyone! I’m back with an ot6 fic :) I really loved writing this one! Make sure you check out my most recent update

word count: 1,234 | pronouns used: none | genre: fluff, established relationship | cws: the link in Gaon’s is safe!!, lmk if I missed anything!

goo gunil

first things first: PDA

Gunil strikes me as a big PDA guy

always holding your hand

leaning his head on your shoulder

wrapping an arm around your waist

not in a super clingy away, just to reassure himself that you’re still here

if that makes sense

I also feel like Gunil would get really jealous- but that’s a story for another time

around his band mates, Gunil doesn’t let up on the affection

again, he’s not clinging to you

he’s just very comfortable with showing affection because he’s in a room with all the people he loves :)

prolonged hugs

I can picture him wrapping his arms around you from behind as you cook or something?

very very sweet boy

alone however?

he can get a little clingy

he’s practically flopping down on top of you

pulling you close

showering you in kisses and praise 🫶🏻

he’s such a sweetheart and he makes my heart melt and ugh I love him

kim jungsu

Jungsu would like minimal PDA

he would hold your hand for sure

everything else would just be up to what you both are comfortable with!

I can imagine Jungsu wanting to have a long, in depth conversation with you about boundaries when it comes to PDA and what you’re both comfortable with

this would carry over to his time around the other members

he’s hugging you

maybe cuddling you during group movie night?

I should write a family movie night story oooo

kissing your cheek

he’s the cutest of all cuties 🥹

alone I would imagine things being about the same?

I know I know I’ve seen how this man acts with Jiseok 💀

I just think Jungsu would need one really tight hug or really good cuddle secession once in a while and then he’d be set

I can 100% imagine Jungsu pretending to play the piano on your back while cuddling??

just tapping on your skin and humming softly to himself

but please please please squish his cheeks and kiss him all over ugh he'd be a puddle on the floor!!!!

kwak jiseok

Jiseok wouldn’t be able to handle PDA in my opinion

y’all know that one episode of Rock The World where the fortune teller (?) mentions girls and Gaon blushes so hard he can’t function?

that’s him with PDA

holding your hand?

he’s giggling so hard

you kiss his cheek?

oh my god he’s dying he loves you so much

with the guys however

he’s way more comfortable

the Heroes definitely tease him!

he’ll hold your hand on the couch

dance with you in the kitchen if a song he likes comes on

runs his hands through your hair

nothing too extreme but it’s no secret that y’all are a couple!!

behind closed doors?

it’s every man (you) for themselves

much like Gunil, Jiseok is basically on top of you

you cannot escape his affections

he is the little spoon and nobody can convince me otherwise!!

kisses all over

squeezes you so tight

showers you in so much love and praise

I feel like he would also steal your clothes? You 100% do not have seperate wardrobes anymore

what’s yours is now also his

overall, less people = more time to annoy you with this love 🩷

oh seungmin

PDA king tbh

he’s holding your hand

has and arm around your waist

constantly taking photos with you or of you

another person looks at you in a way he doesn’t like?

he’s landing a kiss to your lips and then giving them a death glare

he just needs everybody to know that you’re his and that isn’t changing any time soon!

around the guys however, this changes

he definitely dials it down a bit

Ode isn’t worried about being affectionate in front of the Heroes, but he can lay off a little bit because they all know how much he loves you

you’ll cuddle on the couch in front of the others

maybe exchange a quick kiss in passing

enough to satisfy the both of you, but you also won’t make anyone in the room with you uncomfortable with your domestic PDA

behind closed doors, things can get a little…

intimate?

hear me out hear me out

I think Seungmin would be the type to like skin to skin contact

(is this the recent gym photo talking? maybe)

I think he would just like to cuddle you while he’s shirtless because he wants to be as close to you as possible and you make him feel so safe :((

he would be so gentle and kind and soft spoken and UGH he bias wrecks me every day

han hyeongjun

speaking of my biases, it’s Jun Han time 🫶🏻

I don’t think Jun Han likes PDA

such a sweet and shy boy :(

in public it’s hand holding and holding doors open for you

maybe a kiss to your knuckles when nobody's looking

(he would be blushing like crazy omg he’s so cute)

when you get back to the dorm, he’s a little more affectionate

he would still be a little shy in front of the others, but definitely not as shy!

long hugs

wrapping his arms around you on the couch while watching a show or movie

kisses to the cheek or temple

but when it’s just the two of you?

omg

if you catch him in the right mood, I think Hyeongjun can be very affectionate!

cuddling you

placing kisses all over your face :(

depending on the day he can switch between wanting to hold you and wanting you to hold him

very gentle touches and soft moments with him

I believe that Hyeongjun would struggle with verbally telling you he loves you, so he tries to do it in moments like this

he just wants to make you feel comfortable and loved

lee jooyeon

if Ode is the PDA king

then Jooyeon is the PDA prince

there’s just something about the way that Gunil has to physically hold Jooyeon down during interviews that I find endearing?

but that’s also what makes me think he would love PDA!

imagine him holding your hand out in public and just dragging you wherever his heart desires

if you’re holding hands he definitely plays with your fingers

if you’re both in the car or taking public transport he lays his head on your shoulder

I can picture him playing with your hair

twirling it around his fingers, braiding it

he just loves when you do it to him so he needs to do it back!

at the dorm? you can’t get him off of you

he isn’t too bad in front of the others

yes you would cuddle on the couch in front of the others

he would attack you with kisses

surprise you with hugs

but when you’re completely alone?

you’re basically attached at the hip

if you’re sleeping in the same bed he has you pulled right up against him

if he’s practicing the bass he wants you to sit in his lap

if you’re cuddling?

you play with each others hair

he kisses any surface he can reach

he would also like skin to skin contact but not in the way Ode does

he would have a hand on the small of your back under your shirt while he holds you close

he uses it to ground himself, knowing you’re still there as you both inevitably fall asleep

Jooyeon would want to be close to you every moment he can be

[ali1552]

Honestly, I want to make an Ode to Madoc.

As an editor, I think he really sums up a lot of the reasons why I love Holly’s writing so much.

(I’m going to yap for a while, but he deserves it.)

We’ve got the classical folklore call-to-arms: an ogre breaks into your home and slaughter your parents. What’s left for you, if not revenge?

Then realism, even in a folk world: you’re five, how the fuck are you supposed to avenge them?

- Then, a personal touch to make it even more scary: he’s not an ogre, but a redcap. He bathes his cap into his enemies’s blood. That’s how scary he is. Thanks to Shrek and other tales, Ogres aren’t that scary in the mind of a reader. But a redcap? Yeah, that’s creepy.

But redcap, or ogre, Madoc is the masculine traditional man, with it’s pros and cons. (I really don’t want to make this political, but he kinda is?)

If he were more logical, less violent, he wouldn’t have killed their parents. At the same time, was he a little less honorable, he would have left the twins there. They were toddlers, they would have died somehow.

Bringing them to Elfhame and glamouring them would have been a sign of weakness, because they’re not his problem, but he couldn’t kill children (I’m kinda sure he would, at least before becoming a dad).

Raising them himself is the true show of his character. He thinks of it as a punishment for himself, to pay back for his crime, but in reality it is just a second crime. Not only I’m sure he enjoyed it, but the ones who actually suffer from it are the twins, again.

Was he a little less self-centered, less focused on a world made of honor and punishments, he would have found them an accommodation in the mortal world. Or at least care enough to notice what they were going through.

But he didn’t.

And in the end, the murder wasn’t Jude’s inciting incident, but Madoc’s.

For Jude, it’s her childhood. And even if she spent her childhood in the magical kingdom of Elfhame, having a fucked up childhood is so much more relatable and realistic than avenge-your-parents kind of motive.

Back to Madoc, his “punishment” is simple: he will see his children amount to everything he dreamed for himself, basically every parent’s dream.

But since he is a very fucked up parent, he hates it.

���

To sum up my yapping, Holly manages to mix enough fantasy elements to make us dream, with enough realistic elements to make us see and feel them.

An ogre breaks into your home, slaughtering your parents. How does he feel about it? Will he be a better parent?

But there is no such thing as the better parent. Parents are by definition the most morally grey characters: if they’re good, they’ll do their best.

But that isn’t always the best.

So Madoc, the murderer, the ogre, becoming the parent is absolutely genius.

And it’s also why I’d dying to see Jude as a parent!

[mqsi]

Hola! Sorry if I bother, I wanted to request something! Could you do a Gavi fluff where Reader is on her period and has some homework to do so she's really stressed and at the same time in pain and he justs steps in to help her a bit, makes her relax and even he tries to help with her homework? (Not me having my period and everything hurting) Please! And thanks!

Hey love, of course you’re not bothering me :) I’m always open for a chat/rant, anything!💓💕💗

I wrote this as soon as I could, I hope you like it. I hope you’re feeling better today, fuck periods😡

——————————————————————————

Writing an essay was dreadful by itself but your body decided that was not enough pain. You were currently uncomfortably sitting in a chair with your legs pressed against your chest. Your laptop was open alongside a milion different tabs and papers sprawled out on your desk in hopes of helping you.

You felt a stabbing pain in your lower stomach every few minutes and with every move of your body you felt your pad move. You cringed at the feeling, but continued typing down the words. Gavi was out training and just came home. He went upstairs and slowly pushed your door ajar.

“Hey baby, what are you doing?” he asked, peeking trough the crack since there was quite a few incidents of him launching in the room while you were studying and earning a scolding. You turned your head in his direction, discomfort obvious on your features.

“Pablo” you whined extending your arms for him to hug you. He walked over, pushing you against his chest.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

“No, I’m not. I have to finish my homework but I got my period. It’s hurts like hell”

Gavi was never sure of what to do when you’re on your period and this situation wasn’t helping him. He kissed your forehead gently.

“Okay, wait here, I’ll try to help” he said before rushing downstairs. He called his sister, asking how to make you more comfortable, and even wrote down some stuff in his notes.

Gavi returned to your room and placed down a cup of tea and some sweets he knew you loved. Then, he brought your fuzzy blanket over, draping it across your lap and practically tying it around the chair.

“My sister told me I should keep your tummy warm, so don’t you dare move. Oh and here’s a pain killer,if you want to take it” he said, placing it down next to your tea.

You smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, I feel better already” you said. Gavi smiled back and then pulled over an armchair that was in the corner of the room.

He sat it down next to you and got comfortable in it.

You let out a confused laugh. “What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna help you with your work. What are you even doing?” He said, leaning in so he can read what’s on your screen. History essay: world war 2 events. Gavi made a face, letting out a sigh. “How does this even work?”

“Pablo, I appreciate your desire but” you said trying not to burst out laughing. Your mood completely changed with Gavi’s actions, and you were glad he came home ready to help you “but I’m sure you can’t even pronounce half od these words”

“Hey! Is that a thank you?”

You kissed him softly, “Don’t worry about my work, you’ve done enough”

“Okay, I’ll go and prepare you a warm bath so you can jump in after finishing it” he said, getting up. He paused at the door frame, turning to you once again.

“I love you, you know that?”

You looked at him, and felt safe. Everything he did made you feel safe. You basically forgot about the pain, Gavi’s presence making everything better.

“I love you too Pablo”

——————————————————————————

[wtficedance]

Ice Dance Reimagined

With the upcoming ISU Congress in Summer of 2024 and ice dance seemingly in an unending beta of rule changes, I figured I would float a few thoughts on the many changes that have been made over the past few years.

As I mentioned in my RD Rules post, the ISU has essentially made moves to return to the original dance (making the change from short -> rhythm dance even more pointless in the first place) choosing to dictate broader themes.

To me, what makes ice dance so unique amongst all the disciplines is the variety of elements and styles that each team is expected to have in their repertoire and the fact that even in a given SD/OD/RD theme, people have to go out of their way to have a unique take. The rules which have lowered difficulty--in the name of giving skaters more room to be creative--have in fact resulted in the opposite. More teams are doing the same difficult features, same footwork, same lifts, same transitions than ever before. Both drawing on old choreography and leading to homogeneity across the discipline.

I propose a scheme which is a compromise of the two conflicting motions in ice dance right now: 1) the “no pattern ever” give everyone freedom vibes and 2) the people who believe the pattern is king. Alternate having a patterned and original short dance, giving the discipline an opportunity to develop new patterns (the original intention of the pattern dance type step sequence) while also ensuring that teams are continuing to emphasize solid ice dance foundations like skating in hold.

Original Short Dance Layout

1PSt

2Pst

Non-touch midline step sequence (style A)

Twizzles

Lift

Patterned Short Dance Layout

Pattern 1

Pattern 2

Non-touch midline step sequence (style A)

Twizzles

Lift

What the ISU (and choreographers/coaches) have fundamentally misunderstood about the appeal of patterns is that EVERY step is intentional and meant to elicit a specific effect and contribute to an overall impression. There's a reason that even though the Yankee Polka and Finnstep and Tango Romantica all include a LFI Closed S-Step, they have completely different timing and contribute to very different impressions. And it is because the general footwork in the pattern, in addition to just the difficult steps and turns, is geared towards reflecting the unique character of that pattern. I cannot count the number of pattern step sequences since 2017 that have effectively been copy pasted across blues, Latin, foxtrot/quickstep, blues x2, and Latin x2 once again programs with only minor changes to mini-lifts. They lack intention, they are the slowest section of the program for a good 90% of RDs because every team--no matter the style--is attempting to make their turns as drawn out as possible to get credit.

I propose that in original dance years there are 2 PSt segments, each with 3 KPs with the former 4th KP serving as a choreographic benchmark. This would allow for direct comparison of teams doing the same steps (and not allow teams to do the exact same difficult turns 5 years in a row) while simultaneously incentivizing creativity.

For example, under “Jig” below there are the following guidelines:

Jig is characterized by (1) high tempo, (2) rapid toe and heel steps, (3) jumps, kicks, hops and other accents including slides and shuffles, (4) tight and rigid torso, emphasis on leg movements over arm movements, (5) music in 12/8, 6/8, 9/8, 2/4. Teams are expected to pick music and a type of jig dance which fits these characteristics. 1PSt must start at center ice, 2PSt must end at center ice.

An example of key points:

1KP1: A) LFI Counter, LBI Bracket B) LBI Counter, LFI Bracket in any variant of closed hold except basic hand-in-hand

1KP2: both skip, LBO C-Step, RFI Swing S-step. in killian or foxtrot variant.

1KP3: A) RBO 1.5Tw, any kicking/tucking motion, RFI Bracket, RBO Bracket. B) LFO 1.5Tw, any kicking/tucking motion matching/mirroring/corresponding to partner A, LBI Bracket, LFO Bracket. Partners must be touching once exited from twizzles.

1PSt being completely prescriptive in KPs and 2PSt being slightly more flexible:

2KP1: both beginning any bracket, immediate counter, 1-5 intermediate steps where at least one partner must hit at least one difficult skating position* for at least a 1/2 beat, skid exit.

2KP2: both beginning swing FO C-Step, 3-8 intermediate steps/turns with partners MIRRORING each other, ending BO Counter. Partners must be touching entire time

2KP3: both beginning double S-step, 1-4 intermediate steps, ending with one partner on a BO edge and picking into the ice and the other partner doing at least one revolution around. PSt, officially concluded when the stationary partner resumes motion. Partners much be touching at two points until the first revolution around in 2KP3 is concluded.

Skaters would receive credit for the KPs accomplished in both and would receive a fourth Y/N based on whether they met choreographic requirements outlined in italics above.

*difficult skating position: any position where the skating leg is bent at least 90 degrees (shoot the duck, hydroblade, any lunge, any crouch), besti squat, spread eagle, ina bauer, spiral, layback, etc.

Now for some theme ideas:

2024-2025 - Patterned Short Dance - Grand Ballroom with a pattern of Golden Waltz

Teams must skate a program which reflects the character of the waltz particularly with regards to (1) lilting knee action, (2) closed position in hold, (3) repeated rotation as a unit when progressing across the ice, (4) movements should appear long, extended, and with sweeping open posture, (5) tone and musical themes may vary as long as a waltz character is maintained.

2025-2026 - Original Short Dance - Jig

Jig originated in Ireland and Scotland, gradually progressing throughout the British Isles and mainland Europe and then throughout the world including in the Metis people of Canada and Louisiana. Straight and sand jigs were developed in the US by African Americans in the 19th century which eventually influence the creation of jazz and tap. Jig is characterized by (1) high tempo, (2) rapid toe and heel steps, (3) jumps, kicks, hops and other accents including slides and shuffles, (4) tight and rigid torso, emphasis on leg movements over arm movements, (5) music in 12/8, 6/8, 9/8, 2/4. Teams are expected to pick music and a type of jig dance which fits these characteristics.

2026-2027 - Pattern Short Dance - Percussive Dances with a pattern of Paso Doble

(1) Stomping, toe picking, clapping, other percussive elements involving hitting the legs or torso, (2) dance is primarily danced to the RHYTHM and TEMPO not the melody, if there is a section without audible rhythm the team should create that beat using percussive elements (3) music must include a beat throughout, a melody is not necessary, (4) a theme should remain consistent throughout, if movements are drawn from a traditional dance they should reflect the character of the music chosen and the pattern should be interpreted appropriately.

2027-2028 - Original Short Dance - Music and Rhythms of the 1970s

The 1970s were one of the most influential eras of music, giving birth to entire new genres and styles and furthering the popularity of funk, soul, R&B, jazz, glam rock, folk rock, pop, disco, reggae, electronic music, and the birth of hip hop, it was defined by experimental sounds due to new music equipment.

(1) Music choices and rhythms should be COHERENT and related, the two music choices should be related thematically, structurally, or stylistically beyond more than just being from the 1970s, (2) one piece of music should be high tempo (>120bpm) and one piece should be low tempo (<100bpm), a third piece can be skated to any tempo, (3) the holds, movements, and steps in the PSt should reflect the style of music and dance chosen

2028-2029 - Pattern Short Dance - Jazz and Tap with a pattern of Quickstep

Jazz dance is a particularly broad genre that includes original social dances like the Charleston developed in parallel to the birth of jazz in Harlem, as well as more modernized styling.

Skaters should take inspiration from dancers like Bill Robinson, Jack Cole, Fred Astaire, Gus Giordano, nd Bob Fosse, as well as Broadway stage choreography and tap dance.

(1) Music choices and rhythms should be COHERENT and related, the two music choices should be related thematically, structurally, or stylistically, (2) one piece of music should be high tempo (>120bpm) and one piece should be low tempo (<100bpm), a third piece can be skated to any tempo, (3) the Quickstep timing can be adjusted to fit the tempo of the music chosen and to reflect the character of the chosen choreography.

See: https://gotta-dance.com/brief-history-of-jazz-dance/

2029-2030 - Original Short Dance - Nuevo Latin

The ISU has done a whole lot of cha cha, rhumba, and samba, but those are FAR from the only Latin rhythms. Dancers will be challenged to develop a new pattern that isn’t already an ISU pattern (and one that hasn’t been done a million times).

Examples of other rhythms: bachata, cumbia, danzon, salsa, mambo, merengue, bomba, lena, perreo, etc.

(1) The entirety of the PSt should be done in the same style and tempo but can differ from the the rest of the program. (2) Dancers are only required to pick one rhythm style but 2-3 are permitted. (3) skaters must have two points of contact with each other the entirety of the PSt, (4) at least 6 changes of hold must take place during the PSt, this can be from the same to same hold as long as a step or turn takes place during the change, (5) 1PSt must begin at the end of the long axis, 2PSt must end at the same end.

Choreo deductions: obvious use of cha cha, rhumba, or samba music/choreo. Tango, paso doble, and flamenco also excluded.

2030-2031 - Pattern Short Dance - Folk Dances with a pattern of Polka

Folk and country dance is characterized by it's informal and reflection of the general populace intended for widespread social dance. As opposed to court and ballroom dances, it should not be characterized as refined, ritual, or for stage performance. Skaters are encouraged to choose a folk dance related to their background. (1) Polka is skated to a bpm of 120bpm +/-4 and can be skated to and interpreted in any kind of musical style, (2) the same folk dance theme should remain constant throughout the dance or if two dances are chosen they should be closely related (i.e. the non-touch midline step sequence done in the line dancing style and the polka in the square dance style) (3) skaters may have a non-touch portion of their 2PSt provided they remain within one arm-length of each other.

Examples of folk dances include: maypole, hora, tarantella, polka, square dance, clogging, Dutch crossing, oberek, mazurka, Morris , polska, ballu tundu, bhangra, circassian, dabke, garba, khigga, romvong, peacock dance, nongak, yangge, chacarera, zamba, malambo, marinera, akayida, kizomba, agbadza, baile folklorico, shota, rugovo, cumbia, landler, schuhplatter, sardana, dragon dance, lion dance, mapale, danza de la tijeras, jenkka etc.

2031-2032 - Original Short Dance - Swing and Social Dances

Despite the many years of jive, charleston, and jitterbug original dances, there is no swing (or related dance) pattern. Dancers are to pick a swing-adjacent dance style and create a pattern. Examples: charleston, lindy hop, jive, jitterbug, shag, boogie woogie.

(1) Dance style should generally be from the 1920s-1950s era, (2) skaters should include intricate changes of positions for each partner reflecting the highly athletic nature of swing dancing, (3) 1PSt should begin in front of the judges with a 1-2 second mini-lift and end in the same location, 1PSt and 2PSt should consist of similar patterns across the ice and each take one lap, (4) skaters should utilize hops, skips, assisted jumps, and up to 3 mini-lifts per PSt to reflect the character of their chosen dance.

Swing does NOT necessarily need to be up tempo if choosing a style such as West Coast Swing which is danced with a distinct lack of bounce.

And then with time in "pattern" years, new patterns will arise and be eligible for interpretation. Would love to hear people’s thoughts :)

[amymbona]

amy i’m watching the olympics and im FERAALL for olympics!au artrick😭(let’s pretend patrick had the work ethic to actually make it that far right) and maybe early 20s trackstar!reader starts a fling with both of the boys as they both are crushing on her. she sleeps around with them both at the olympics village and neither know bc they don’t talk anymore (their relationship is the same as it is in 2019 but let’s say art isn’t married to tashi). they fall for you after both watching your race (which you got gold for). the boys have been avoiding each other the entire games but meet again for the first time in years in the sauna before their match, they find out you’ve been toying with them both, but it’s not your fault!! they’re so hot and you’re all single so who cares!! but THEY care and after their match they reconcile and decide to reward you for your gold….and punish you for being a slut who just needeeeddd to have 2 older olympic boyfriends🤭🤭🤭 -🍄

Hehehe you basically glue the two estranged friends (lovers?) back together. They bond over their shared anger and jealousy, coming up with ways to punish you, but then when Patrick squeezes Art's thigh during your race, they're immediately best friends again.

The sex is fucking heaven. You were never eaten by two men at once, and something about their adult bodies, two pairs of broad shoulders as they both struggle to fit between your legs, that makes you impossibly wetter. Their tongues do wonder, simultaneously eating your pussy in such coordination that you though they can only display on the court. While one licks, the other one sucks and then the other way around, playing with your puffy clit, teasing your weepy pussyhole... A palm squeezes your breast, a finger teases your butthole, you get called a good girl, a little champion but also their first place prize. You are theirs and they are yours.

But when they note that you're about to cum, they pull away, leaving you a groaning, moaning mess, unable to understand what's going on. You're too baffled by the sudden turn of events that you don't even protest when you're flipped onto your stomach and a sharp palm connects with your ass. A gentle pair of hands twists your wrists behind your back, while the burning palm keeps delivering more slaps to your full ass. This time, you get called a bad girl, a liar, a fucking dirty player.

In the end, though, they make you cum, four times in a row, both agreeing that you did so good today, that you demolished all your opponents and decide to be properly rewarded for your accomplishments. Then, they lick the arousal off of your thighs and hold you in their arms, complimenting your skills, the sensitiveness of your body and the beautiful melody od your moans.

[kavehnanginto]

and i told the sun something about you

pairings: 5wirl x gn!reader

synopsis: the burdens of the past still in his shoulders and the journey to peace is hard and full of changes, it is no surpise that it all becomes too much... thankfully in the darkness of the night their lies the moon glowing and they watch as it becomes the comfort and light in the dark

tags: hurt and comfort, tragic pasts, emo depressed boys, fluff, i think idk, no angst i also think, thats basically it, i miss writing like this so much hehehehhehe

VENTI

He's at it again. You watch him sitting in his favorite spot, one that he always teased you that you can't ever reach. But that didn't really matter when you were more concerned that he never went down. He should've swayed with the townfolk, the cheers of his ballads were not to be heard.

"Venti!" you called out his name that night, and there he lied restless and unmoving all at once. That didn't really made you give up, instead, you climbed infront of his favorite statue. In hopes that you'll be on top and see his favorite view for the first time.

And be with him.

You saw the piles of wine scattered at the beaitiful and delicate hands of the statue, the same as the model they went by with it. And as you placed the human sized hands, his face finally meeting yours, you smiled.

"You were right, the view here is truly beautiful." You saw the moon on his eyes, and with it your light. And as he saw the moon in yours he can't help but wonder what truly was the difference between both.

XIAO

The conquerer of demons is no need of sleep, but you know damn well he is need of rest. He never came, and you were too scared to call. Maybe he'll lash out on you, maybe he won't even care. It's better to not humor yourself with the possibility if you try to call him.

As you walk on the lake, the familiar glaze lilies all bloom, swaying in the cold breeze. You can't help but feel someone missing at your side and as you start to miss him once more the sound of conflict can be heard near.

You saw him riddled with karmic debt, as you ran in the sound of danger. He was surpised to see you, but he was too tired to react. Finally happy to see him you hugged him soundly, and for the first time he dare not react. But there he sat on the grassy field and let himself go for a while, drifting comfortably to your hand on his, his head on your lap.

It was a vulnerable act, not one made by a yaksha. But he was no longer anyone when he's with you, he's just Xiao. And the moon as your only witness, for you that had always and will always be enough.

KAZUHA

One who's soul is too free can never love so eternally, but as the months went by you noticed that Kazuha still possessed shackles of his past. Even as he travelled miles and countries afar, the memories of it all never disappeared. He was but a human after all living in the world where Gods too can't move past yesterday.

After all those poems of longing and odes to joy, you look for him in the comforts of Liyue Harbor to see him standing by the sea–the direction of his home. You sat beside him, a smile on your face.

"Can't sleep?" He nodded, he was honest but with that he was not shy. Kazuha expressed what he truly felt in a way he wants you to see. He looks like someone with many secrets and stories but he'll easily share them with a stranger, his friend and even his foe.

His home was not as it was before and maybe its for the better. He found you. It maybe with the cost of his heart breaking a million pieces but he found you. And in these moments Kazuha learned to never regret, and appreciate the beauty beside him.

The moon. The stars. You.

HEIZOU

He was a humurous man, but that case really scarred him. There he searched for you and you almost had a heart attack when he embraced the love of his life. Both of your days are always like this, but the feeling of melancholia in his heart was evident in his face buried in your neck, in his fidgety arms that intertwined when they meet at your back.

"Heizou?" There was no response and it was not needed. But now he clings at your clothes causing you to fall to the floor and him patting your hands as his eyes finally let go of the comfort of your skin.

You smiled at his pouty face, causing him to whine then complain at how you were making the situation sadder and then grinning back when you actually thought he was serious. He had a bad day at work, but it wasn't one he needed to bring in your presence.

And he need not to hide away what happened, but it all disappeared when you were there. After all, he needs you everyday for that very reason. And he needs you all his life for that very same happiness. And he's glab you held his hand too on stormy nights and sunny skies. Just like he'll do yours.

Every single time.

WANDERER

He is one with many names, many secrets and many scars. All he hides, and some never see the light of day. Nowadays he tries to show who he is, what he's like but wha happened before all got thrown away. And one day it all came crashing down.

You looked for him everywhere after that fight, maybe he hates you now, maybe you should've closed your mouth shut. But he should've listened, and care what you wanted to say.

To let go and leave it all behind is nothing but a wish, but finding peace in the turmoil and darkness is our reality. And when you saw him in the balcony all by himself, he found your statement true.

The moon was absent today, but the sky never seemed so bright.

"I'm sorry." You stopped when he quietly mumbled an apology and as you hugged him tight, he doesn't need breathing anyway. He needs you, and he wants you for every living second you have.

It was a new beginning for him, and he has never been this excited before. To live a normal life, and for you to be his comfort and light.

hello guys muhahhahaha i miss writing in these anyways its a 80 followers yeheyyyy!!!! That makes me very happy anyways thank you for everything i love you so much i literally have a parasocial relationship with people who read these garbage i put out jk thank you so much and i hope you have a nice day :D i also didnt proof read this like always

[annabelle-creart]

Sissi, Salvage & Blurr across the multiverse be like (final part):

👇

Outlier!Sissi: what are they doing?

Crystal!Sissi: Killing each other, I think

H:KoL!Sissi: aren't we supposed to say something?

Outlier!Sissi: exactly, supposed, but judging by the number of ghosts that surrounds them, I think we should let them kill each other

Crystal!Sissi: I like that idea, also, all the responsible ones are busy

All: DRINK DRINK DRINK DRINK DRINK

LoRB!Blurr finally finish her drink

LoRB!Blurr: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOH

All: WOOOOOOOOH YESSSSSSS

LoRB!Blurr: WHO WISH TO FIGHT AGAINST ME!!!???

LoRB!Salvage: Eh, Blurr, that was too much, I don't recomend it

Outlier!Salvage: I want to try it!

Swap!Salvage: Count me in!

Movie!Blurr: Put it on my bottle, baby! This nanny needs her own milk!

Swap!Salvage: That was the worst joke I've ever heard of

Beast!Sissi: PUT ME ON THE TABLE, I WILL DESTROY YOU ALL

Hunter!Sissi: Pff- you're overestimating yourself. I WILL DESTROY YOU!

Belle: SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GIVE ME THAT! I'M ON IT

On the middle of the volunteers, a cry is heard, sharp and loud, an animal one

Belle: WHAT THE-?!

Swap!Blurr: Sissi? What happens? Why are you yelling like that?

Outlier!Sissi: she was taking your attention, those bots are killing each other

All direct their looks towards the bots at the other side, in fact, energon was splitting from them

Swap!Blurr: OH PRIME!

Belle: Oh shit- they really hitting hard!

Outlier!Salvage: what do we do?

Movie!Blurr: Do something, dah!

Hero!Salvage: See if you can distract them! You! I need you with me

Swap!Salvage: Yes!

Hero!Salvage: we have to surprise them from behind, the rest, entertain them!

Movie!Blurr: got it

Outlier!Blurr ran fast with Movie!Blurr on her arms, just ready to put in front of the fighters

Movie!Blurr: Hi~ nice to meet you!

SG!Blades: Shut the fuck up! I don't need two more of you!

SG!Chase: This is not your problem, get out

Movie!Blurr: We can't do that, you'll see, girlies, you have to stop, you're acting like dunkeys

Outlier!Blurr: she basically says you two are a pair of assholes and idiots

SG!Blades: Excuse me!

SG!Chase: GET OUT OF HERE!

But with a strange lighting, the two bots were taken away like dissapearing on thin air...

Movie!Blurr: ...sweet biscuits, what was that?

Outlier!Blurr: What the fuck??

Swap!Salvage: Ah...

Hero!Salvage: I don't know what was that...

...

SG!Heatwave: You didn't had any reason to do that!

Outlier!Heatwave: I had, actually

Fwench Fwy: I told you not to do that!

Iscream: It was fun! Before the giant jerk came to the scene

Vulgora: If it works, that ride was pretty cool

Iscream: Aw, you really think that?

H:KoL!Heatwave: I'm starting to think you have problems

Iscream: Am, yes!

Vulgora: I've been alive for some centuries, I need to distract with something

Like a lighting strinking again, the two bots appeared from thin air in front od the rest

SG!Heatwave: You two??

SG!Boulder: You can't be serious!

LoRB!Boulder: Oh my- are they okay?

SG!Boulder: WE JUST LEAVE YOU FOR SOME HOURS AND YOU REALLY CAN'T HANDLE YOURSELVES?!

SG!Blades: What the-?

SG!Chase: weren't we a moment ago with the other kid's variants?

SG!Blades: wow, finally you fucked up my processor

SG!Chase: How are you so heateable!

SG!Blades: It's my gift

Outlier!Heatwave and Adventure!Boulder took the fighters appart, using the previous distraction

Adventure!Boulder: how did you do that? That's not normal!

SG!Blades: I don't know, we just appeared from nowhere!

??: not exactly

A voice changed the ambient, behind, a blue and orange bot with big googles and serious facade, but his hands and position were like a villain analizing their prey

Vulgora: Ish, not even Valdemar is that scary

Muriel: I can say so

Belle: Vulgora! Muriel!

Outlier!Blurr: How did you do that?

SG!Blurr: As far as I know, none of you can teleport!

Swap!Salvage: who's the bitch?

??:. Excuse me?

The tune of the bot changed abruptly, taking his googles apart and letting see they're strange eyes, one blue and other yellow, and his serious facade passed to a angry face

??: Repeat that! I dare you! Repeat that!

Swap!Salvage: Repeat what? That you're a bitch?

The bot's arm iluminated the rest with sparks, like if it had a bolt on it

LoRB!Heatwave: EVERYONE, GET OUT!!!

Everyone did so, the little ones were taken by the biggers and all got appart of the strike, fortunately it was direct to the front, easy to evade

??: I dare you to repeat that! I DARE YOU-! Can you... act like a grown bot!?

The tune of the bot again changed abruptly, again to the serious tune

??: But-

??: But nothing, we can't just waste our battery!

??: pff- fine!

?: Something planned?

??: It's not like I know what I'm doing, so, no, but now that you're silent...

More bots came from behind, all strange-looking for them, no one had ever seen someone like them, like monsters, no, worse

Exp!C&B: Just to make clear, our objective was too bring all of you on a single space, having in mind we were just taken abruptly from our universes, so, I could ask you where we were and how to get out of here

Vulgora: IF YOU WANTED TO KNOW THAT, YOU SHOULD JUST ASKED, BIT-!!!

Belle took Vulgora's mouth

Belle: Ah, people, there's no need to be angry! We can take you home, we must have to, actually

Muriel: some of us are part of a program for the Multiverse protection, we know how to take you home-

Exp!B&K: NO!

Everyone got silent, compared to the rest, this one was maybe the biggest, or maybe it was just the spider-like extremities and no metal to cover the knots of cabling on the needle like legs, this one had like three pairs of eyes, the left one was red and the right one was yellow, almost orange

Movie!Blurr: well, hehe, what can I say, those are the best halloween customs I've ever seen! Hehe....

Another bot, the tinniest, actually, wanted to step forward, but the first bot stop her, her mouth was almost an insect jaw and her frame was so thin it seemed it was glued to her skeleton, what was easier to look was her purple left eye and pink right eye

Exp!S&B: we are actually looking for another thing, is someone of you "Mr. D"?

Vulgora: ...you're shitting

Belle: All this spectacule just for it? Lemme just-

Belle took something of her pocket, she shaked it and surprise, a voice from it

???: ¿qué?

Belle: your friend made a contract, again

???: tu puta madre

Belle: I wish for

The rock shouted up

Belle: that doesn't explain why are we here!

Exp!C&B: we were taking a machine down, hoping it would take us out of our world, unfortunately, something went wrong and instead, we ended up here and you came with us- how did you knew about the contract?

Belle: the guy's... technically a friend of us, now, retake, why are we here?

Exp!C&B: we don't know

???: I know

LoRB!Heatwave: Nani??

Nani: yes, me, the kid-witch that is supposed to protect the multiverse, but SOMEONE wanted to be a good samaritian

Mr. D: I just couldn't let them there!

The two standed on the floor, just where the lighting striked

Nani: We have rules!

Mr. D: Rules are not fair! They really wanted to go out of there! I gave them the plan for them to travel, so, no one would suspect about us, I don't know why are they here!

Nani: BECAUSE YOU FORGOT THAT FUCKING MACHINE WAS WORKING WITH RED EMERALD! THAT SHIT IS LITERALLY THE PRINCIPAL SUBSTANCE FOR ESCENCES, AND FROM WHERE DO YOU THINK VARIANTS COME FROM???? ESCENSES. IF IT WASN'T BECAUSE OF THE RED EMERALD ON THAT MACHINE, NONE OF THEM WOULD BE HERE!

Mr. D: Oh.... the red emerald summoned them because they were the most near variants, oh... I didn't knew that

Nani: WHY YOU JUST DIDN'T ASKED THE BOOK??

Mr. D: I didn't wanted anyone to know about this! Not even Jack knows!

Nani: I can see!

SG!Heatwave: wait wait wait wait wait, Are we stuck in this fucking liminal space because of this amalgamation jerks?!

SG!Boulder: Can you, for great Unicron not to insult people for their looks?

SG!Heatwave: It's easier to identify them

Iscream: Oh, auch, that's a bad thing even for me

SG!Heatwave: I don't care, fucking rat

Swap!Salvage: Can you stop fighting?! This is the revelation! It's supposed to be epic!!

Nani: This is not epic, this is stupid! Nothing of this was supposed to happen. This is literrally dummy shit

Mr. D: but-

Nani: AND I WANT ALL OF YOU IN YOUR UNIVERSES NOW!!

Belle: Take it easy girl, you're too young to have wrinkles

Vulgora: YOU ALREADY HEARD PEOPLE, LET'S TAKE THE OTHERS AND GO AGAIN TO YOUR HOUSES!!

Exp!H&BB: What will happen with us?

Nani: you're going to-

Mr. D: a new universe! A promise is a promise, I will take you as far as possible! I promise

Nani: ...you're shitting?

Mr. D: Nani, please, let me temptate you

Nani: Agh, fucking Devil... let's take this mf's out of here!

...

Hunter!Boulder: It was a great experience actually

Hunter!Sissi: If you summon us by accident again, we have to do this again!

SG!Chase: great, don't invite us

SG!KO: c'mon Chase!

Outlier!KO: well, today was a funny day, have to admit

SW!Fang: I had some fun with you!

Camp!Blades: Me too! If we find the way, we should write each other!

SW!Fang: Yey!

Sparkling!Heatwave: I will miss you

Outlier!Heatwave: Ah, don't worry, buddie, You will be okay, and I'm sure you will be the best seeker ever...

Swap!Salvage: Invite me the next time guys! C'mon, capybara Sissi

Swap!Blurr: Bye Bye!

Swap!Chase: for Unicron sake, don't get in trouble

Adventure!Bee: BEST DAY EVER!!!

Adventure!Heatwave: we should repeat it at home

SG!Blades: GOODBYE, MOTHERFUCKERS! I WILL NOT REMEMBER YOU

SG!Heatwave: SHUT UP!!

Mako: well, cute reunion

Crystal!Buttercup: meh, it was okay

Belle: Bye bye!

H:KoL!Sissi: BYE BELLE, IT WAS COOL TO MEET YOU!!

Vulgora: finally we can go home!

Iscream: It was the strangest adventure I had

Fwench Fwy: hm, same

Muriel: Something, thanks, though

LoRB!Blades: Finally, all went to their homes! I was getting scared!

LoRB!Boulder: But what about them?

Nani: We will take them to another universe, I consulted it and they're not safe on theirs, but I have friends who can help me reubicate them

LoRB!Heatwave: I will stay to help

Nani: Sure, we need more staff today

...

End

[all-pacas]

DIAGNOSTIC OLYMPICS, SEASON 1, EPISODES 5-15

part one

Hi! I was curious about who on House (besides House) gets the most diagnoses right. Other folks have already run a tally (it's Chase), but I was curious how other factors would influence the tally — whose ideas get run with, who manages treatment, who screws up… So I thought I'd keep score.

1 point for getting the answer. This is almost always going to be House.

.5 points for Valuable Contribution — stuff that isn't the final answer, but either is thought to be the final answer or is valuable to the solving of the case. Stuff like "noticing something on the MRI" doesn't count; things like "figuring out how to treat" does.

-.5 to -1 for Mistakes — stuff that delays or prevents diagnoses, injuring or killing patients, etc.

FIDELITY

DIAGNOSES: African Sleeping Sickness

+1 House: Figures it out very early, the trick is proving it, which takes significantly longer. +.5 Foreman: When at first it looks like sleeping sickness is impossible, he comes up with a strong secondary theory and gets House Praise GO-GETTER AWARD: This is the third time Cameron has brought House a case, and in just a couple episodes she'll bump that up to four. PROBABLY A COINCIDENCE AWARD: Chase immediately guesses parasites based on the idea that "maybe she was lying about never leaving the US." This is the second time in three episodes his first offhand guess ends up being right.

POISON

DIAGNOSES: Pesticide Poisoning

+1 Team: This is another episode where they basically know what's happening immediately, the trick is proving it/figuring out how to treat it. +.5 Cameron: Successfully bullies the mother after she shoots down everyone else. House and Chase had to trick her in the end anyway, but credit where it's due. -5 COOL POINTS: When the patient is seizing, the subtitles have Chase saying "stay calm." The words that actually come out of his mouth are "stay cool, mate."

DNR

DIAGNOSES: Bad Arteries

+1 Team: Another episode where no one person has a big breakthrough; they only catch the cause of the patient's paralysis on a scan. +.5 House: His determination that something is wrong and should be addressed leads to the patient not only being able to walk, but still being alive. Legally shady, medically good. +.5 Cameron: Suggests a stroke early on, and a scan does find a clot. It doesn't end up being the problem, just a symptom, but good call. +0 Foreman: His first time running a case and it really doesn't go well. He keeps following House's orders and doubting himself, lies about treatment, and is generally wishy-washy. He didn't make any mistakes (because he didn't make any calls), but not a good showing.

HISTORIES

DIAGNOSES: Rabies

+1 House: Figures out the patient has rabies. -.5 Foreman: Makes a number of mistakes, from refusing to take any of the patient's symptoms seriously to wanting to discharge her to almost giving her an MRI with a metal pin in her arm. I was going to give him a full point demerit, but he does accurately guess she gave herself the insulin OD intentionally, and once he gets over himself and realizes he fucked up he works really hard to help the patient.

DETOX

DIAGNOSES: Termite poisoning

+1 House: Figures it out while actively suffering drug withdrawal. +.5 Chase: The patient's eye gets a clot and goes blind, but he's on blood thinners and they can't operate. House is willing to just let the eye be blinded, but Chase figures out a creative way to remove the clot and save the eye. +0 Cameron: Suggests lupus and gets really, really stuck on it, but still goes along with all of House's ideas. They do eventually treat for lupus when House runs out of other ideas, but he's clear he doesn't think it's a good one. +5 MEME AWARD: First time lupus comes up on the show!

SPORTS MEDICINE

DIAGNOSES: Cadmium poisoning

+1 House: Takes him a while, because at first they dismissed environmental causes, but when the patient's wife shows a symptom he figures it out in three seconds. +.5 Chase: Initially suggests Addison's, which House likes and the team runs with. Later, is the first of the team to realize House thinks cadmium poisoning, and figures out the source. +10 FRIENDSHIP POINTS: The first time in the series the fellows hang out outside work, we see them getting drinks at one point and dinner with a drug rep at another.

CURSED

DIAGNOSES: Anthrax and Leprosy

+1 House: He figures out that the patient and his father both have leprosy. He also figures out Rowan Chase has cancer, but we're not grading on that case. +.5 Cameron: The first to realize anthrax after House notices something wrong with the sample. +.5 Chase: He has like three merits and three demerits for this one. His early guess of mold causing pneumonia is a good one, and leads them to anthrax. He also bonds with the patient and gets a truer history from him. However, once his dad shows up, Chase spends the rest of the episode just trying to prove him wrong: first that the patient doesn't have sarcoidosis, then testing for every single auto-immune disease known to man because daddy thinks it is one. On the other hand, he also sticks to his guns on anthrax and is proven correct even after the team and House (and dad) dismiss it as a possibility. -1 Rowan Chase: Being a bad father aside, his guesses are plausible but all wrong. As Baby Chase points out, Daddy Chase is just guessing rheumatoid diseases because that's what he knows. THE REMY HADLEY AWARD: Chase manages to be so opaque and so resistant to House's manipulation attempts that House gives up entirely and just tries to have an honest conversation with him. 13 would be proud.

CONTROL

DIAGNOSES: Ipecac poisoning

+1 House: Figures it out, and advocates hard for his patient to have a heart transplant once he realizes she's sick because she's self harming. Ethically shaky, medically good. +.5 Cameron: Reads a self-help book and manages to get the guys to agree with all her ideas and run her tests. She continues to have good ideas through the case, even if she quickly gets on all their nerves. +0 Chase: hot take alert! He loses points for his fuck up early in the episode: he's too busy flirting to realize he scanned the wrong leg. Luckily for him, it had no bearing on the case, but it could have gone very badly. On the other hand: Going off a vague clue (that House was acting oddly), he also manages to figure out the ipecac poisoning and that the patient's illness was self inflicted. He then runs to Vogler (+50 Rat Points). Shitty move ethically, good diagnosing. I wouldn't give him the credit if he hadn't also been careful to wait to tattle after the transplant was done.

MOB RULES

DIAGNOSES: Beef allergy

+1 House: The episode is really much more about Vogler and Chase's ratting than the case. The patient has an unrelated symptom (high estrogen) that throws everyone off for a while, but once House finds the cause it's pretty quick and obvious.

RUNNING TALLY:

HOUSE: 11.5 TEAM: 3 FOREMAN: 1 CHASE: 2.5 CAMERON: 2.5

Cameron has the biggest jump, going from .5 to 2.5: she isn't making any big leaps, but unlike Chase and Foreman, she's consistently solid and not making any big mistakes either. Good for her!