#none of my posts of these two are ship btw

[stygiovictoria]

just the fire lord and the greatest earthebender on the planet talking smack (as grown ups this time)

#none of my posts of these two are ship btw #just for clarification to all the crazies out there #my art #toph #zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko atla #zuko avatar #toph beifong #toph atla #toph avatar #avatar

[in-my-feels-probably]

hi hi hi!!! i saw that you were open to shadow and bone requests and i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a nikolai lantsov imagine? just imagine princess!reader being forced into an arranged marriage with the second son of the king of ravka, and instead of going through with it she runs away. she then stumbles upon a particularly charming privateer who just so manages to win over her heart……

Enchanted

Request: hi hi hi!!! i saw that you were open to shadow and bone requests and i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a nikolai lantsov imagine? just imagine princess!reader being forced into an arranged marriage with the second son of the king of ravka, and instead of going through with it she runs away. she then stumbles upon a particularly charming privateer who just so manages to win over her heart…

and: btw I saw your post about sab season 2 and i would like to request something with nikolai. i dont really have any ideas but i love that blonde boy so anything that you'll write with him is going to make me happy- but if its angst please im begging for a happy ending im already depressed because im reading rules of wolves

and: omg omg omg enchanted x nikolai sounds so perfect 😭 literally written for him

Hi! I absolutely adore these requests, thank you for sending them in. And sorry for the long wait, I’ve been a bit busy. And please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing for Nikolai, this is only my second time. Also, this request was combined with two others, I hope that’s alright, and sorry for anyone who’s request was altered a little bit to fit this story. I’m happy to accept another request if you don’t like this one. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! 

(Warnings: arranged marriage, swearing, very very brief angst, very vague suggestive content, drinking, let me know if i missed anything)

—

You had nearly begged on your knees when you found out you were to be wed, pleading with your parents’ advisors. 

You were no fool. You knew that one day you’d have to marry, and you were prepared to do your duty. A Princess isn’t awarded the luxury of a choice, and you knew any match that was made probably wouldn’t be from a place of love. But you never thought your parents would be prepared to ship you off to a man none of you had ever even laid eyes on, and that’s including the advisors.

A second son, and a rumored bastard at that. It was all happening too fast, and you weren’t having an easy time processing it. 

“You can’t send me! We already have an alliance with Ravka, why send me still?”

One of the men had stood, trying to ease you. “You must go, Princess. We may have an alliance, but our forces need to be strengthened. Prince Vasily is already spoken for. Marrying you to Prince Nikolai is the fastest way.”

“I am told he is charming, if it is any consolation,” another man said, though his voice was firmer. “It is time, Princess, for you to do your duty. You will marry.”

You finally relented, your fate beginning to set in. “That’s it, then. When will I be expected to leave?”

There was a moment of silence, and an awkward shuffling of feet as the advisors stood. And then one of the men spoke, sending dread running through you like ice in your veins. 

“Your arrival is set for the end of the week. The King and Queen are expecting you.”

—

The journey passed far quicker than you had anticipated. A trip like that should have been grueling, yet each moment felt more fleeting than the last. By the time you arrived on Ravkan soil, you would practically be theirs. Upon your arrival, you were escorted to the Great Hall to meet the King and Queen. 

“Moi tsar,” you curtsied, keeping your eyes low. “Moi tsaritsa. It is an honor.”

The words tasted sour on your tongue, but you spoke them anyway. The King and Queen were not known to be the kindest of people, and you’d rather spend your time in a foreign country on the good side of the sovereign. 

“Princess,” the King greeted as he stood, his eyes racking your body. “You are as beautiful as they say. My son will be pleased. Unfortunately, your arrival has preceded his. He attended a meeting with our generals, and is set to arrive in a few days. The wedding will be in a fortnight. Until then, please enjoy our hospitality. I look forward to this new found alliance between our great countries.”

“As do I,” you said, forcing a smile. 

—

As the days passed, you grew more uneasy. The weight of your duties were beginning to drag you down, and you didn’t know if you could bear the burden any longer. 

Nikolai had yet to return to court, but with his inevitable arrival looming, it became harder to face each day. You were practically alone in the castle, having yet to make any friends. And you doubted the arrival of a Prince—the subject of scandalous rumors—would do anything to lessen the loneliness and fear you felt every night. 

One evening, the pressure became too great.

Despite your duties, and the anger you knew both countries would feel towards you, you fled. It was a rash decision, and a stupid one at that. But it was the only option that could give you your freedom, so you took it.

It led you all the way down to the harbor, which you briskly made your way to with little more than the clothes on your back.

Your window of opportunity was closing, and you took it. In mere hours, someone would notice you were missing from your room. Guards would be sent all throughout the palace, and they’d track you down if you weren’t quick enough. One way or another, you would marry the second Prince of Ravka. You’d be forced to. And although the thought of being alone in an open country you knew next to nothing about terrified you, it was less terrifying than the thought of being trapped in that castle forever. 

So you went. Fled, more accurately. All the way to the harbor, in nothing but a dress and cloak, with a bag of coins hidden in your skirts. 

As you approached the harbor, the shout of guards could be heard in the distance. “Spread out! She cannot have gone far.”

The Kingsguard.

You felt your chest tighten as you quickened your pace, pulling your hood over your head. You rushed as inconspicuously as you could, clambering to get as far from the palace as possible. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your wrist. 

“What’s the rush for, My Lady? You’re going to hurt yourself running in those shoes,” the woman said, her brows furrowing.

You stopped in your tracks to take her in, realizing she was standing next to a much larger man. She had axes sheathed at her waist, and a confused but intrigued grin. 

“Please, excuse me—” You stuttered out, trying to pull away.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” the man said, in a tone much gentler than his appearance. “We mean you no harm. What are you running from?”

“I need to get away from here, and fast,” you pleaded, deciding to trust these people who stopped you. 

“That wasn’t an answer to our question,” the woman said, easing her grip. 

You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to look over your shoulder before turning back. “Please, I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just let me go. I have to get out of here, and quickly.”

The woman shared a glance with the man, and for a minute, you were beginning to think you had been found out. They somehow recognized you, and would know that the castle guards were looking for you. If that was true, the pair didn’t show it, looking back at you. 

“We have a ship,” the man finally said, gesturing behind him. “And a captain. A name you’d perhaps recognize. Sturmhond.”

Sturmhond, you thought to yourself. The richest pirate on the True Sea? What was he doing in a port in Ravka? You shook your head, having no time for questions. 

“Would he grant me safe passage? I can pay, I have the means. Please, I need to know if this is my only option of getting out of here. I haven’t done anything illegal, I promise. I just need to go.”

The woman laughed, her relaxed disposition beginning to ease you. “Illegal would have been more fun. Don’t worry, Princess. We’ll take you to our captain. You’ll be safe with us.”

Your eyes widened, and you stepped back to retreat, when the man raised his hands in surrender. 

“We mean you no harm, Princess. Clearly, you’re in trouble, and we have the means to get you away from the palace.”

“Trust me,” the woman said, offering you her hand. “We have no wish to return to the palace.. I’m sure our captain isn’t too keen, either.”

You looked between the ship and back at the castle uneasily, when you heard another shout coming from the guards marching through the village. You turned towards the man and woman, who you just realized looked very similar. Siblings, perhaps, who had just gotten back from a journey at sea.

“Sturmhond is quite the character, but he’s a good man. You have my word,” the man said. 

“Alright,” you said, making your decision as you took the woman’s hand. “I’ll go. Thank you, uh…”

You trailed off, making the man smile. He led you towards a nearby ship, helping you climb your way onto it. 

“I’m Tolya, and that’s my sister Tamar. We’re part of Sturmhond’s crew. Come along, he’ll want to meet you.”

They quickly led you aboard a ship, ushering the crew to cast off. The crew looked around with confused faces, but listened anyway. As the ship slowly left the harbor, you were led downstairs to the cabins below. 

“Captain,” Tamar called, knocking on the first doorway below deck, before opening the door herself. 

“Do you want to tell me why my ship is moving away from the dock?” Sturmhond asked without turning around, shuffling through his cabin as he pulled on his coat. 

You cleared your throat. “That would be because of me, I think.”

Sturmhond turned around at the sound of your voice, his eyes widening as he took you in. “I don’t believe it. Good evening, Princess. I do hope you are well. Tamar and Tolya have treated you kindly, I expect?”

You shrunk under his gaze, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Is my title that easy to spot? You’re the second to figure it out, is it something I’m doing?”

“Tamar has a keen eye,” Sturmond shrugged, grinning. “But you’re also wearing an evening gown fit for court, and the jewels around your neck could buy a small country. Those things aren’t exactly subtle, darling. Even with that cloak.”

You nodded, still nervous but relaxing with his calm demeanor. “I was told you could grant me passage away from the palace? I can pay, I don’t expect you to do this out of the kindness of your heart. But seeing as we’ve already left the harbor, I don’t think you have any other option but to take me with you. Unless you intend on throwing me overboard into the bay, although I’ll thank you kindly not to do that.”

“In that dress? You’d sink to the bottom, darling. There’s no need to worry, Princess. You’ll stay dry on deck, that I can assure you,” he chuckled, motioning for you to sit. 

“We’ll inform the crew our trip has been extended,” Tamar announced, pulling Tolya behind her to leave the cabin. 

You sat in the chair on the other side of Sturmhond’s desk, and he sat across from you. He offered you a kind smile, one that surprised you. You had heard plenty about the infamous privateer. You hadn’t expected him to be this young and handsome. His reputation matched that of an old tycoon, not of what appeared to be an ex soldier. He looked at you with curiosity, motioning for you to speak. 

“So, would you like to explain to me why my ship is sailing back out to sea? Not that I’m upset or anything, I was dreading my return to Ravka myself. But as I understand it, you were asked to come to Ravka to strengthen a political alliance—”

“And how would you know about that?” You interrupted, raising a brow. 

He smiled, shrugging. “I have my ways. It pays to know lots of things about lots of things. Including which Princesses are being married off to far away royalty.”

“Do you know him?” You asked, your voice a little unstable. “The Prince, I mean. Nikolai. I could hardly find anyone who knew him, and any knowledge of him was limited. I went into this alliance blind, thanks to my parents and advisors.”

Sturmhond’s grin widened as he nodded. “I do know him, yes. We were briefly acquainted some time ago.”

“And?”

“He’s alright,” Sturmhond laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Dashingly handsome. A bit cocky for my taste, perhaps a little spoiled, but what royalty isn’t, right? No offense.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “None taken.”

“I suppose you’re lucky in that you’re set to marry him, and not the Crown Prince. Vasily is—how should I put this—well…”

“A bastard?” You finished, making Sturmhond chuckle, nodding. 

“He is, yes. Nikolai is, in another manner of speaking, the same as well. Is that why you’re running? You don’t want to risk your reputation on a second son who may not even be the second son?”

Sturmhond looked at you through curious eyes, although there was a little apprehension in them. A little vulnerability that you didn’t quite know what to make of. You shook your head, inadvertently easing his thoughts. 

“It’s just rumors, Sturmhond. Whether there is any truth to them, I don’t know, and I don’t care. History records names, not blood. A true Lantsov or not, it doesn’t matter to me. It’s not Nikolai’s fault who his true parents are, and he shouldn’t have to bear the consequences of their actions. All that matters to my parents is what he means for my country. His reputation doesn’t affect that.”

“And what matters to you?” Sturmhond asked, his eyes softening. “Your secrets are safe with me, and I promise to not throw you overboard for whatever your answers are. Why are you running, Princess?”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. Sturmhond politely waisted for you to start, nodding encouragingly for you to speak. 

You fiddled with your hands in your lap nervously. “Nikolai’s blood doesn’t matter to me, truly. All that really matters is that he has a kind heart, and he makes living at Ravkan court for the rest of my life more bearable.” 

Sturmhond nodded as he listened intently. You continued.

“From what I hear, he’s a perfectly good man. Compared to my list of options, he was probably the best I could have hoped for.”

“Was? Or is? Do you intend on running forever? Seems like a waste of time in what is already a fleeting existence, Princess,” he said quietly. 

“I know,” you nodded, growing frustrated. “I don’t know why I did it. I just thought about being alone at court for the rest of my life, and even the promise of a semi decent Prince wasn’t enough to ease my fears. I just wanted control over my own life for once, you know? My own freedom. It was a rash decision, I admit. But it seems to be working well in my favor so far.”

Sturmhond nodded, standing up from his desk to pour two glasses of whiskey. You downed yours the second he placed it in front of you, deciding it was better to let the second one sit when he refilled your glass.

“And Nikolai? What are his thoughts on the matter?”

You shrugged, fiddling with the glass. “I don’t know. He hasn’t been at court since I arrived. I have yet to meet him. Although, once he hears of me running, I’m sure any first impressions he could have had of me are ruined.”

“I don’t know about that.”

You raised a brow, coaxing him to continue. “Really? Why is that?”

“From what I hear, Nikolai isn’t really one for court, either,” he started, shrugging. “He runs when he gets the chance, too. Why do you think he’s away from court so often?”

You pondered the thought for a minute. “I don’t know. I always assumed his duties took him elsewhere. He’s not the Crown Prince, so he doesn’t need to remain in the palace. He serves in the First Army, doesn’t he?”

Sturmhond nodded, grinning. “He does. Or, to put it more accurately, he did. I think he just loiters around neighboring countries until his Mother forces him to come home and make an appearance now.”

You chuckled, letting out a deep sigh. “Isn’t that a treat? Coming home for the first time in months, only to find out your bride to be has run away.”

“With a face like that, I doubt he’ll care much about anything once he sees you.” 

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks at his words, setting your eyes to your lap to avoid Sturmhond’s heavy gaze. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he breathed out a laugh. 

“Besides, I’m told the Prince isn’t expected back at court for a few more days. Plenty of time for you to decide whether or not you want me to turn this ship around. Who would I be to deny a Princess?”

You smiled, your voice soft. “And if I don’t want to turn around?”

“Well, you’re paying me. I don’t really care either way, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he said, grinning as he topped your glass off. “But just between you and me, I’d do it for free. Anything for a pretty face like that. Just don’t go telling everyone I said that, I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, nodding. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

—

You spent the next few days on the ship, feeling more and more at ease the further you made it from Ravkan shores. 

At night, you longed for home. 

Not for you parents, or any of their advisors. But for your own bed—not on a constantly rocking ship—and the familiar trill of the birds outside your window on dewy mornings. For the library in the East Wing people seemed to forget was even there, and the soup the cooks would make when a chill was in the air. For the gardens midmorning where you could escape to when you wanted to avoid all the guards constantly watching you. 

Sturmhond did a good job at keeping you distracted from saddening thoughts, though. It was sweet of him, really. Making sure you had someone with you during the day, taking all his meals with you in the evening. 

Your time on the ship was the most relaxed you had been in a long time, actually, which you attributed to him. 

Sturmhond had quite the representation amongst high society—or any society, really—and he certainly met your expectations. He was charming, and attractive. Clever and ambitious, like everyone said he was. 

You hadn’t expected him to be as attentive as he is, however. He seemed to really enjoy a new guest on the ship, one that could keep up with his banter. He didn’t make you feel like a burden like your parents so often did, actually including you in his daily routine. 

Tolya and Tamar were great, too. Kind, and funny. Fiercely loyal and protective, both of their captain and of each other. They were the kind of friends you hoped to make during your time in Ravka. 

So far, it was off to a good start. 

As the days moved on, you found yourself growing closer to Sturmhond. You tried to stop yourself in the beginning. Despite not wanting it for yourself, you were engaged to Nikolai. Falling for another man wasn’t exactly a good thing for your future

But that damned smile.

His ridiculously attractive smile, and his stupid mop of hair that had only gotten longer from his time at sea. The infuriating way he’d look at you and make you want to shrink away from his gaze, but you could never bring yourself to look away. The obnoxious green emerald ring he wore that could probably buy a small village.

He had charmed you, despite your reservations, and you were practically head over heels. It scared the absolute shit out of you. 

Tamar had of course noticed already, confronting you about it one night after dinner. She joined you on deck, sitting next to you on a crate as you watched the stars twinkle in the sky. They were so visible out at sea, away from all the lights and clutter of the cities. 

“You’re not hiding anything from me, you know,” she smirked, sneaking your flask away to take a few sips from it. 

You feigned innocence, shaking your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tamar.”

“Come on, darling. Let’s skip the bluffing…you like him. It’s so obvious.”

“Saints, I hope not,” you groaned, scrunching your nose up at the thought of Sturmhond finding out. 

Tamar grinned at your embarrassment, chuckling. “Don’t worry. I may not swing that way, but I know the look when I see it. He’s all puppy dog eyes and desperate looks of longing when he sees you. It’s gross, really. I can actually hear his heart skip a beat when he sees you. He likes you, too. I’d stake money on it.”

You swallowed down your excitement, trying to think rationally. “Don’t even joke about that, it’s not funny.”

“I’m serious! You’re a catch, Princess. He may be my captain, but he’d be a fool not to want you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, but we can stop there,” you nervously chuckled. “We don’t need this going to my head. I’ll do something stupid like staying on this boat forever.”

She grinned, nudging your shoulder with hers. “Would that be so bad?”

—

The next few days, you couldn’t get Tamar’s words out of your head. You went on with your routine with Sturmhond as usual, trying not to put much thought into it. 

Your feelings for him were true, that’s for sure. 

And when you’d catch him looking at you from across the deck, you’d swear by the look in his eye that he felt something for you, too. What it was, exactly, you didn’t know. 

But it was something. 

On your last evening before you had to make a decision about where you wanted to go, you skipped dinner. You couldn’t bring yourself to go along with your usual banter with Sturmhond, beginning to feel guilty about just how close and comfortable you’d gotten with him. 

You still had a duty to your country and your family, which meant at least a little to you. Plus, it wasn’t fair to make a promise to Prince Nikolai, only to leave him hanging when he returned to Ravka. 

You were leaning against the deck railing, watching the way the moonlight bounced over the still waters. So lost in thought, you almost didn’t register Sturmhond’s approaching footsteps. 

“A bit chilly for stargazing, isn’t it?” He asked, coming to stand next to you. 

You turned to see him, smiling when you noticed he was wearing his signature blue coat. You couldn’t remember a time since you met that he wasn’t dressed to the nines, no matter what time of day it was. 

“You know, for a pirate, you don’t really look like one.” 

He grinned, gently correcting you. “A privateer, darling, not a pirate. There’s a difference, I assure you.”

“Ah, a privateer. How could I have forgotten?” You chuckled, hugging yourself in an effort to shield your arms from the biting cold. “But seriously. The emerald on your finger is the size of a walnut, and that coat is fit for royalty. I find it hard to believe a privateer does well enough to afford things as nice as those.”

“Maybe I’m just good at my job,” he retorted, that signature smirk on his face.

It was enough to stir butterflies in your stomach, making you turn to look back out at the water. His gaze lingered on you a moment, and you could feel the heat creeping up to your cheeks under the weight of his stare. 

“You’re cold,” he observed, breaking the silence.

“I’m fine,” you tried to say, but Sturmhond interrupted you.

“I can practically hear your teeth chattering,” he laughed, shrugging his coat from his shoulders. “Here. Seeing as my coat is fit for royalty, as you say, I think it’ll suit you better.”

“Sturmhond—”

“Princess,” he mirrored, smirking when you relented, letting him place it around your shoulders. 

“Thank you,” you said softly.

You turned away from the water to face him, leaning back against the bannister. His eyes flitted up and down your form at his coat wrapped around shoulders, before his eyes met yours. He took a seat on the crate behind him, leaning back and settling into the post next to him. It was quiet a moment before he finally spoke.

“You weren’t in your cabin at dinner. Where have you been?”

You sighed, fiddling with the sleeve of his coat. “Thinking.”

“Thinking? About what?”

“About my future,” you said shakily, shoulders slumping. “Both the imminent one, and the one to follow based on what I decide tonight.”

Sturmhond nodded, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ve been thinking about that, too, if I’m being honest.”

You raised a brow at his words. He’d been thinking about your future? He’d been thinking about you? The thought was both intriguing and terrifying, and you hoped the confusion on your face wasn’t too apparent.

“Well, I…I’m sorry, what?”

“Your future directly impacts me,” he quickly corrected, suddenly steeling his face and meeting your confusion with his usual grin. “Where you go I go, remember? You are paying me, after all.”

You tried to hide your disappointment, forcing a smile. It was a foolish hope to have, that he’d think something more of you. But it wasn’t a hope you were ready to give up. 

Not just yet, at least. 

He seemed to notice your disappointment, brows furrowing. “Have I upset you?”

“No,” you quickly replied, trying to brush it off with a laugh. “No, it’s not you. I’m just not quite sure what I should do. I know you need an answer, and Ravka needs an answer, but…I don’t have one yet.”

“Why?” 

You shook your head, sighing in frustration. “Earlier, I had more than halfway made up my mind. I value my freedom, but I think I value my dignity more. I don’t think I could go anywhere and face anyone, knowing I’ve turned my back on my duties. It may have not been a promise I made for myself personally, but it is a promise I had every intention of keeping.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” He asked, a genuine look of concern on his face.

His eyes softened on you as your face fell, and you turned away from him as you felt heat creep up to your cheeks. You could hear him stand and approach you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

“Princess?” He asked, only worsening your embarrassment. 

He spoke again, finally getting you to acknowledge him. “You’re worrying me, darling. Surely it cannot be that bad.”

“But it is,” you groaned, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stave off the tears you could feel brewing. 

“Try me,” he said gently, carefully placing a hand on your arm. “You can tell me the truth. What’s stopping you from returning to Ravka?”

You could feel his touch even through the coat, which struck you like a punch to the gut when you remembered it was, in fact, his coat you were wearing. And to make it worse, that damned grin was on his face as he spoke with such a genuine kindness in his voice that it made you want to cry. 

You finally met his eyes, taking a sharp breath. Shit, you thought to yourself. You were really going to admit it. He eagerly awaited your response, which you finally managed to utter. 

“You.”

He sucked in a breath, withdrawing his hand. He looked up at the sky for a moment, before taking another breath and turning back to you. 

“Me?” He asked. 

“You,” you said again, exasperatedly laughing. “You, and your ridiculous clothes, and your infuriating charm, and your kindness and ambition…that damned smile.” 

Sturmhond’s cheeks flushed, and he took a step back, although he was grinning like a fool. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. You didn’t dare speak, waiting for him to say something. After an agonizing moment of silence, he leaned against the bannister, letting out a chuckle.

“What?” You forced yourself to ask, preparing yourself for his answer. 

“Saints, Princess…you’ve gone and done it now.”

You shook your head, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. “What?”

“You’ve managed to outdo me. On my own ship. Quite the feat, I’ll give you that,” he laughed, still grinning. 

You narrowed your eyes, still shaking your head. “Sturmhond, I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re saying to me right now. Will you do the honor of enlightening me, or are you going to stand there grinning at me all night?”

“You like my grin,” he mused, making you flush.

He spoke again, saving you from your embarrassment. “And it just so happens that I like yours, too. I like all of you. Very much so indeed, Princess.”

Your heart lurched into your throat at his words, and you had to grab ahold of the bannister behind you to keep yourself steady. He placed his hand over top of yours, his palm warming yours. 

“I cannot believe you beat me to the punch. It’s rude to upstage a captain on his own ship. You’re lucky you’re royalty. I’ll allow it just this once.”

You had just now calmed your breathing, beginning to take in the weight of his words, and what it meant for you both. “Sturmhond, I—”

“I have a confession to make,” he suddenly said in a very serious tone, startling you. “I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I must tell you something before either of us share something we can’t take back.”

“Alright…” You said uneasily. 

Carefully, he took your hand in his, giving it a squeeze. You let him hold it, waiting for him to speak. Absentmindedly, you comfortingly ran your thumb along the back of his hand, silently reassuring him. 

“My name isn’t Sturmhond,” he finally said, the nerves in his voice the worst you had ever heard them. 

Trying not to jump to any hasty conclusions, you nodded, squeezing his hand once more. “Alright…if it isn’t Sturmhond, then what is it?”

“Well, technically it is, but it also isn’t. It’s just a nickname—” He rambled, and you placed your other hand on top of his to stop him. 

“I gathered that much. What else are you trying to tell me? Go on, you can say it.”

He took a deep breath, his voice soft. “It’s true that people call me Sturmhond, but I’m much better known for my birth name…Nikolai. Nikolai Lantsov.”

The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning. You tried not to flinch in his grasp, but you knew he could feel you stiffen. You cleared your throat, feeling your voice begin to grow hoarse

“Nikolai Lantsov…as in Prince Nikolai Lantsov, second son of the Ravkan throne? Moi tsarevich,” you croaked out, attempting to curtsy. 

“Please,” Nikolai said, holding both your hands in his to keep you from bowing. “There is no need for such formalities, darling. If anything, I should be the one bowing to you.”

You stood up straight, shaking your head. “We’re long past that, don’t you think?” 

He chuckled, nodding. “I suppose so.”

The reality of your situation began to set in, and you couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling along with him. He smiled at the sound, raising a brow. 

“What is it?”

“I suppose my little dilemma is solved then,” you said, shrugging. “I was beginning to spiral, thinking my annoying habit of not being able to contain my feelings had ruined any decision I could have made. But of course—in your usual fashion��you’ve managed to upstage me. As is your right, it is your ship, after all. Well, I suppose there’s no decision to make now. At least, I think there isn’t…right?”

Any nerves you had mustered up were immediately squashed when Nikolai brought his hands up to cup your face, running his thumbs across the tops of your cheeks.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I’d take you wherever you wanted to go. All I can hope now is that you’ll allow me to join you…wherever that is.”

You brought a hand up to rest against his wrist. “Don’t you want to go home? You’re expected back in Ravka any day now.”

“I love my country, but I’m in no hurry to return. You’ve told me multiple times how dreadful court was for you—”

“That doesn’t matter,” you quickly said, squeezing his wrist. 

“Of course it does! I cannot ask you to return to a country you’ll be miserable in for the rest of your days for a man you barely know.”

“It’s a good thing you aren’t asking, then,” you reaffirmed, giving him a smile. “I told you. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. I said that I was afraid I would be all alone at court, and that I was afraid the man I am promised to wouldn’t want a life with me.” 

“What a fool he’d have to be to not want that,” Nikolai joked, making your grin widen.

You continued to reassure him, not convinced that he was believing your words. 

“You say that you’ll follow me wherever I go. Well, I want to go with you. Wherever that is. And I want you to go home. I may have not known you for long, but I’ve been around you long enough to know that you won’t truly be content if you’re tied to my wishes. And I know you’re too stubborn to admit that, so I’ll tell you my wishes, and I need you to believe me. I wish to be with you. I wish for you to return to wherever feels like home, and I wish for you to take me with you. If that’s Ravka, then Ravka will be home. Court will become much more bearable with you there. And if it begins to become too much, I know a certain privateer that can whisk us away for a few days.”

He was doing it again. Smiling like an idiot. He seemed to be in disbelief at your words, this being one of the very few times in his life that he couldn’t find the right words to say. 

“I didn’t mean to trick you, Princess. I should have told you who I was from the beginning.”

You shook your head. “I don’t blame you, Nikolai. If I was given the chance, I wouldn’t have told you who I really was, either. At least, not until I knew I could trust you. I would have done the same as you did. It’s alright.”

“I can’t believe my luck,” he grinned, taking your hand. “How is it that my betrothed managed to stumble upon my ship the very hour I returned to Ravka?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not one to believe in fate, and it sounds impossible.”

“Not impossible…improbable,” he corrected, smirking when you playfully narrowed your eyes up at him. 

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile at your turn of luck. “Are we doing this? Are you going home to Ravka?”

“Are we going home, you mean? I can’t be expected to abandon my betrothed when she turns out to be the single most invigorating person I’ve ever met, now can I?”

“You cannot,” you agreed.

A comfortable moment of silence passed between you both, and you looked down at his hands as you held them in yours. The familiar glint of green on his finger made you chuckle. 

“I knew it, by the way,” you added, grinning. “This coat and that ring are far too ridiculous for a privateer. They’re fit for royalty. Fit for a Lantsov.”

“Am I to understand that you’re not interested in a Lantsov emerald for your engagement ring?” He asked, smirking when you quickly shook your head.

You laughed, pulling his hand closer to inspect his ring. “I said nothing of the sort. I was merely observing how ridiculous it is, as well as this coat. But I’m still wearing it, aren’t I? If I’m going to be married to a ridiculous man, I should begin preparing now, shouldn’t I?”

He narrowed his eyes, playfully jutting his chin up at you. “You just like the coat and want to keep it. It’s alright, darling, you can admit it. We can have your own fitted for you, all you have to do is ask.”

Nikolai gripped the hem of your sleeve, tugging you closer by the arm of his coat. You let him pull you, chuckling nervously when he drew you nearer. 

“I admit nothing, only that my future husband has a taste I will have to acquire. But I’m sure I’m up for the task. We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

“We do,” he smiled, settling his hands around your waist. “Although I’ll have to admit, I don’t think we know each other well enough to become husband and wife.”

You tensed under his hold, and he quickly retracted his statement, shaking his head. He didn’t give you enough time to truly panic, interrupting your train of thought. 

“And that’s perfectly fine, darling. Like you said, we have all the time in the world to get to know each other. I think I’d like to take advantage of that starting now. After all, it is our last night on the ship, isn’t it? At least, I assume it is. I expect you’ll want to set a course for Ravka now. Unless you’d rather I get down on one knee, and make a big show of it first. I can do that, if you wish.”

“I certainly wouldn’t stop you,” you chuckled, letting your hands rest on top of his as your tone shifted to a more serious note. “Are we really doing this, Nikolai? Returning to Ravka? Getting married?”

He smiled wider, a twinkle in his eye as he looked down at you. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you stepped foot on my ship, the second I laid eyes on you. And I’ve wanted you more every day since. I’m not one to believe in fate either, but I do think the Saints may have gifted you to me. Who knows what I did to deserve it, but you most definitely won’t find me questioning their will if you’re the result.”

You felt your heart swell at his words. He was right. Of all the ships in the harbor, his was the one you found yourself on. Of all the captains in Ravka, he was the one who took you in. The man you were supposed to marry, and you found yourself falling for him long before you even knew who he truly was. If that isn’t fate, then what is?

“I’ll take all the influence from the Saints I can get when it comes to explaining to your parents why I’ve disappeared right out from under them,” you said with a groan, leaning into him. 

Nikolai chuckled, holding you close. “My Mother will forget all about it when she sees my future safely secured with marriage. There is no need to worry, trust me.”

“I may not have to worry about her, but I do need to worry about Tamar,” you said, letting out a pained chuckle. “I think she staked money on our little situation.”

“She most definitely did. I expect Tolya will be paying up when they hear the news. Who should break it to him?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “I think that duty lies with you, as my future husband. If I’m going to have to listen to Tamar’s endless bragging about being right, then you should have to take half the burden in the form of telling Tolya. That’s how marriage works, isn’t it? Half and half. It’s only fair.”

It was his turn to groan now as he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, taking yours in the other. 

“Alright, I’ll do it, but you have to accompany me. I think your presence will help soften the blow. What do you say, darling? After all…it’s only fair.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, squeezing his hand. “If I must. You’re lucky you’re pretty, Lantsov.”

“Darling, I’m lucky for a lot more than that,” he smiled endearingly, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

— A/N - Hi! This is SO long, I’m so sorry. And I’m so sorry for taking so long to get this out, I’ve been busy and had no time to write. But I finally forced myself to get this done, and now I have more time to write! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, let me know what you think! Thank you again for the requests :)

#grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows #six of crows imagine

[yongislong]

skin ship + dreamies.

wc/genre: idk, pretty short though, fluff, suggestive.... lmao established relationships with nonidol!dreamies! reqs openn

cw/note: none! late night post, not requested but i had this idea while studying bc... shit has been going on in my life and i! need! comfort! lmk what you think, masterlist is on my page, take care of urselves, i am in no way saying love can cure mental illness in any of my posts btw! i thought i'd just clarify lol

mark... he's so touchy with you and he's such a nerd about it LOL, he loves you and freaks out. like yes he's confident don't get me wrong but once he sees you and realizes that he has you, he pounces. he hugs you so hard people might think you'd disappear. it's always so full of love and he has a geeky smile and you can hear his breathy giggles in your ear. also likes pulling your toes when you're on your bed scrolling in PEACE. he does it so hard and you never fail to fly off wherever you're sitting to chase him across the apartment. cheek pincher on the low. honestly loves any skin ship under the sun. especially on any exposed skin, smooches <3 shoulder kiss enthusiast and he's very good at it :') likes catching you off guard with any skin ship. pulls you tight whenever you sleep

renjun... hand tracing dear god. he loves your hands, no matter what they look like. YES i know its cliche but he loves messing with your rings, painting your nails, etc. he thinks he's being so slick and cool but he's so cute about it because he also doesn't care, like he has no reason to not show you how beautiful he believes every part of you is. sometimes he doesn't even notice, he just takes ahold of your wrists or forearm and drapes it on his lap. maybe he likes to put his fingers in ur mouth I DON'T KNOW??? esp when you wave ur finger in his face... not super touchy when cuddling but you always end up with his hand in yours. sometimes switches rings with you and doesn't notice until he's taking off his jewelry to go to bed and he's giggling into his hand like an 8 year old lol. likes pinching the skin on your upper back and thighs. finds comfort in tracing his fingertips on your collarbones before bed, helps you both fall asleep fast

jeno... god he's such a hip guy. loves a cheeky lil slap on the butt at any time of the day OFC but also just likes having his hands on your hips, likes to feel ur hipbones/curves y'know. you're so beautiful to him. he always pretends to get the wind knocked out of him when he sees u... hes so cheesy. sometimes when you're watching a movie he sits you between his legs and innocently snakes one finger under your clothes to feel the skin on the expanse on your upper hip and stomach. he loooves stomachs. especially if they're soft or not defined like those old greek paintings, he likes how different you feel from him if that makes sense.... bc he's lean. unless you're lean too he kinda gets fomo like damn did you hit the gym without him lol. also a cheek pincher, just likes messing with your face in general. cute sleeper, tucks you under his chin, ends up with his head under your shirt bc he gets cold at night and is always so surprised when he wakes up pfft. also an upper arm rubber. pls trace your finger on his nose brige.

haechan... mf. any skin ship have you seen this man. i will say the skin ship he has with you and the way he goes about it is different because he wants to make it a point that yes, he's touchy but only you get certain privileges or touches. especially when you two are alone. he likes to look at you while you sleep, not in a weird way he just likes that this is the one time you let him play with your hair and kiss your fingertips without you bursting into shy giggles. a lot of people think he would be a goofy bf and yeah that's true but he wants to so badly do well in this relationship. he cares about you so much. some nights when he looks at you he's thinks he just might cry. gives you lots of typical skin ship but also just is super domestic and sweet and considerate of your feelings. LOOVES, loves and i mean adores hiding his face in the crook of your neck, likes your natural scent sm, makes him smiley.

jaemin... like haechan he likes to watch you when you sleep but in the morning instead, when he wakes up before you. likes whispering things to you about how gorgeous he thinks you are and how can someone look so pretty when they've been tossing and turning all night. smiles to himself always. pokes your cheeks especially when you're puffy and sleepy. his favorite type of skin ship is pulling your cheek. he also likes brushing up your brows and running his thumb on your lower lip. gosh he's just so so sweet. he's obsessed with you in the best way. likes being around you. hand on the waist when he's trying to maneuver himself behind you to reach for his toothbrush in the bathroom > AGH. has no limits to how touchy he is in his mind. like if you are equally as touchy or just enjoy skin ship and don't mind him giving you puppy dog eyes through the mirror as he brushes your hair, its an easy open for him to do what he wants with you. I KNOW this is kinda all over the place but just imagine someone being in absolute adoration of you, your body, your skin, your face in a non creepy way LOL etc, etc. very wholesome

chenle... waist holder. oh MY god. he's not really touchy, in my opinion and from what i've seen, but he is a clinger. he likes skin ship mostly and only if he gets to initiate it. makes him feel manly muahaha. dont get me wrong, adores you doing slight skin ship with him but when he gets to tuck you under him at night or is able to trace the underside of your jaw. OH MY GOD he loves putting his finger under your chin to lift your face to look up at him please??? is so cocky about this and even if you're taller or his height, he loves to catch you when you're sitting down and it never fails to make you lose your mind. yeah yeah he likes it when you touch his neck, he's corny like that. laying your hand on his chest when you kiss GOD??? he combusts every time. it's moments like these where he doesn't mind you initiating touches bc it makes him feel special and wanted. please give him attention when you've seen he's had a hard day. he never knows how to ask for you, but now you've gotten into the swing of being around each other and learning what each other likes when it comes to skin to skin contact.

jisung... another fucking cheek poker dude. can never grasp the fact that yeah, you're sitting next to him, willingly watching his favorite movie with him, sharing a blanket, with the fresh cookies you made. wants to make sure you're real so he pokes you. he doesn't think he doesn't deserve you he just, is so proud of himself for bagging you and needs to make sure he isn't lucid dreaming LOL. ya'll need to wake up, yeah jisung has probably never had a relationship up until you but oh... oh once he learns how to fluster you, its like he hit the jackpot. knows how much you like him kissing the top of your spine before bed and you learned that tugging on the hairs and the nape of his neck has earned you several reactions in the past. its a very sweet and intimate relationship, watching the both of you test the waters with shy pecks or head pats until you finally date for long enough that he fully feels confident falling asleep on your chest with his arms caging around your waist. likes pretty basic skin ship, he't not a poet or anything yknow LMAO so expect a lot of neck pecks, head pats, hugs where he shifts his weight in between his feet and rocks you back and forth, he's just a sweetie

#nct fluff #nct blurb #nct reactions #nct soft blurbs #nct soft hours #nct college au #nct icons #nct dream headcanons #nct dream renjun #nct dream haechan #nct dream mark #nct dream jeno #nct dream jaemin #nct dream chenle #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream soft hours #nct headcannons #nct dream #jeno fluff #jisung fluff #jaemin fluff #chenle fluff #renjun fluff #mark lee fluff #donghyuck fluff #nct comfort #nct drabbles #nct dream x reader #nct headcanons

[milaeth]

୨୧┊𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒. ( lando norris )

ꖛ ─ you’re reading part one ∿ part two ( coming soon )

✧.* pairings ─ lando norris x fem! football player! reader

✧.* genre ─ social media au ⨾ fluff

✧.* summary ─ in which you're a football player and after winning the champions league with your team, a secret admirer named "L" sends you flowers. everyone thinks it's your friend Lance, but what if it's someone else? perhaps someone who’s also a formula one driver and is known for being a big fan of yours...

✧.* face claim ─ jana fernández (she’s obv around the same age as lando in this)

✧.* warnings ─ none

✧.* mily’s thoughts ─ so sorry for the wait, i had to take a little break, but i’m back now! btw i’ve had this in my drafts for literal months, but i finally decided to post it so enjoy :)

yourusername

liked by lance_stroll, fcbfemeni and 753,965 others

yourusername We rocked the semi finals, now it’s time for the actual one! We can do this!!🔥

tagged: @/fcbfemeni @/wchampionsleague

view all 375 comments . . .

user1604 massive win! some sick tackles made by you today, wow. so proud of you guys🔵🔴

user693 LETS GOOOO

lance_stroll So proud of you💙❤️

yourusername Thank you Lance❤️

user4635 y’all seeing this???

user8476 the hearts…🤭

user4316 BARCELONA 🔛🔝

user1036 mother is mothering‼️

landonorris Congratulations, you guys were amazing!👏

liked by yourusername

user5837 YOU GUYS WILL ROCK THE FINAL

fcbfemeni best cb in laliga🔥🔵🔴

yourusername best club💙❤️

user3835 devoured and left no crumbs

user8547 who is that girl and why are lance and lando always in her likes and comments??

user9527 girl bffr💀

user1584 “that girl” is Y/n mf L/n.

user5264 @user8547 That is Y/n L/n! She plays for Barcelona’s women's team. She and Lance have been friends for quite a while and I guess he introduced her to the other drivers at some point because a lot of them follow her. She's been to a few races and sometimes still attends them when she's not playing for Barcelona! :)

2 May 2023

landonorris just added to their story . . .

liked by mclaren, fcbfemeni and 97,537 others

private replies to this story . . .

maxfewtrell Off to go see the love of your life play?👀

landonorris Shut up mate

maxfewtrell You didn’t deny it👀

landonorris Dude she doesn’t even know I exist

maxfewtrell Of course she knows you exist. She’s friends with Lance and therefore knows you from the grid.

landonorris Yeah okay but that’s about it. The first and only time we talked in person was in 2020 so she probably forgot about my existence.

maxfewtrell Well then change that😉

yourusername

liked by alexiaputellas, wchampionsleague and 1,846,053 others

yourusername This feels unreal🏆🔵🔴

tagged: @/fcbfemeni @/wchampionsleague

show top comments . . .

lance_stroll I’m literally so proud of you. We have to celebrate this, love you💙

yourusername Thank you so much, can’t wait to see you again💙

user836 @lance_stroll confess to her already🙄🙄

user638 i ship them so hard

landonorris This was the first football game I watched live and the atmosphere was amazing. Great win💙❤️

yourusername Our games always have an amazing atmosphere, it’s really worth it

landonorris I could tell! Today’s game won’t be the last one I’ll see live

yourusername I hope so :)

user9526 AYO WHAT IS GOING ON

9 May 2023

yourusername just added to their story . . .

liked by lance_stroll, landonorris and 352,942 others

11 May 2023

∿ taglist ─ @ay7ton @ch3rryknots @fdl305 @chrysanthemonza @remuslupinsbtch @kissesandmartinis @hevburn @noncannonships @quadrisl @dhhdhsiavdhaj @godessstela @hectorr-19 @layazul @bambispostsblog @ferrariloverr @xxenia14 @sigistarkstrom @asparklysoul @dinodumbass @tpwkstiles @our-love-world @sainzluvrr @ophcelia @mcmuppet ( here’s my taglist if you want to get tagged in my future work )

don’t forget to like, comment & reblog (it’s very much appreciated <3).

© milaeth | 2023

#·˚ ༘ ☕️ — mily’s writings ! #★ — lando norris ! #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #f1 driver imagines #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #formula one x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris #lando norris one shot #lando norris oneshot #lando norris imagines #lando norris imagine #lando norris blurb #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris social media au

[manicrouge]

Inundate

[𝙰𝚄: 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝚂𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚗!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛] || 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 05/01/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Sorry is the siren whose selfishness results in carnage.

[𝙲𝚠]: gore, murder, blood, body horror, angst, character deaths (both major and minor), hurt/comfort, smut, possessive!simon, inexperienced!reader, creampie, hurt and NO COMFORT, mention of the loss of a parent.

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 18,536

[𝙰/𝙽]: Since so many people liked the first part (ty for ur support btw i am blown away by all the love ive been getting... it's enough to make a grown woman cry) HERE'S PART TWO!!! I hope it's just as entertaining as the first part and a good continuation to the story, although if you dislike it, just pretend this part never happened. Also this took so long because between writing this I have been watching the cat in the hat (best movie of all time btw).

I had a lot of fun writing this and can't wait for more alt aus !! I think the next think i have planned has something to do with everyones favourite ghost so... keep an eye out for that :3

(Pls ignore any typos I am very tired and really wanted to get this done so if I have made any I do apologise)

Comments are always appreciated !!

If you haven't already read it, I advise you read 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚗𝚎 !!

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

There is something in the water.

There's something looking at him. He can sense it, he can feel it, and the feeling of whatever it is makes his blood run cold. Words have been leaving his mouth as he stands upon the ship, his eyes blood red at the very belief that something is there.

Leaning over, he watches as the ship caves into the waves, the village in the distance growing further and further away, the sound of songs and cheers emitting from the belly of the vessel.

Perhaps he's just a little sea sick, that's his excuse for the creeping sense of dread which is climbing up his spine the further he looks into the water, searching for the same set of black eyes that had stared at him that night while he obeyed the Captains orders.

Nausea rumbles his stomach, he feels the urge to grip the side of the ship and expel his guts for he cannot escape the image of that siren. It's as though, even though she is dead and gone (somewhere no one knows), she is still there with him, under his nails, infecting him with a sickly guilt that has caused his pores to ooze, the skin on his lips to crack, and his sleepless eyes to remain bloodshot.

He is rotting from the inside out.

Despite months having gone by, his hands are still slicked with the blood of the bleeding siren. He's scrubbed and scrubbed, and still, the dark red tinge under his nails persists. His hair is wild, flecks of grey sparkling in the daylight as he brings his hands together in an attempt to quell them as they continue to shake.

They're not alone anymore.

They haven't been for a while, yet, they have been none the wiser to it until the discovery of that... thing.

Granted, he's unsure as to whether or not he is grateful for knowing what is in the depths of the sea, or if he would have preferred it to stay a secret.

There is something following the ship, he knows there is something following the ship, whether beside it or under it- it doesn't matter.

He's heard the stories, read too many books in the library to count, and even since the murder of the siren, there has been a different air in the village just as there is at sea. Something is displeased, they are displeased, he knows they are.

'Roland, are you seriously looking for one of those things again?'

A hand is placed in his movement and he jolts, yelping at the sudden contact, his hands wrapping around the beam he has been using to look over the ship. There's a scoff from the man standing behind him as he scratches his beard, looking him up and down before his hands settle on hips hip.

'For fucks sake kid,' he exclaims, shaking his head, 'you're making yourself with the thought of the fuckin' things- have you looked in the mirror recently?'

He’s choking on his words, his tongue seemingly too big for his mouth as he gargles out an incoherent mess. Quite frankly, he would have been better throwing up overboard; at least then man would get a proper response from him. His cheeks are red as he concludes he should keep his mouth shut.

'You should have stayed on land,' he sharply states, 'this is our land, they don't have a fucking leg to stand on out here, right?' asks the man, wrapping his arm around his shoulder, holding his hand out as he points towards the sea with a bright smile on his face. 'One of theirs washed up on our shore, and they didn't stand a fuckin' chance against us.'

Observing the land, he swallows hard at the sight of a small mound of rocks sitting in the distance, tensing in the grip of the man standing beside him.

'She was on land,' he chokes out, resting his forearm against the edge of the ship, resting his head against his arms. The fluid motion of the water slightly rocking the boat side to side worsens his sickness as he sits and attempts to focus on his breathing. 'And she only died 'cause Price fucked up.'

'She only lived for as long as she did because that fuckwit was acting on the orders of the Lord,' says the man beside him, smacking his hand against his back, rendering the other breathless as he heaves for a gasp of air. 'Do I need to go to the Captain and get this boat turned around,' he lowly asks, 'because you're lookin' to be more of a fuckin' burden than anything else.'

Straightening his posture, he lets go of the edge of the shift, rubbing his face with his hands, shaking his head.

Rubbing his eyes, he winces at the dull pain as he does so, 'no, no, you don't... jus' haven't been sleeping recently, that's all,' he explains, 'been worrying about this trip but... I need the money; it's been rough recently.'

'Then get your fucking act together,' snaps the man, 'can't have some stupid mer-freaks scaring you, hey? They've probably left these waters, anyway,' he shrugs, 'they're like spiders; they fear us more than we fear them, and the only thing you've got to be fearful is Donny seeing you in this state, yeah?'

'Yeah,' he nods, noting that they're growing closer and closer to the mound of rocks. 'Need the money for this job.'

'Don't we all,' laughs the man, 'I'm gonna go get a drink, you gonna join me?'

As he looks at the an, he pictures the hot room beneath the deck with one too many bodies crammed into there, all for the sake of getting their hands on some rum. His stomach is burning as bile bubbles. There is nothing worse his mind can conceive at this moment, it's simply a death wish to accept his generous offer.

'No, I'm gonna stay up here; feel a bit sick,' he confesses, 'cause of the long break of voyages.'

Placing both of his hands on his bloated belly, Mike rolls his eyes, letting out a chuckle, 'I will say, strange how trade has been quiet for the past few months, isn't it? Got a village full of hungry people here and they're expecting us to sustain ourselves? That hardly seems culpable.’

'Somethin' to do with the Lords guards. They have more power than good, they do,' snarls Roland, 'think it's okay to demand for cuts of the ships in the water, and for what?'

'To keep you safe it seems,' laughs the man, 'can't have you vomiting into the ocean and angering the big fish, right? Have the village under water in the matter of seconds if you spilled your guts overboard.'

His laughter continues while he keeps his eyes glued on the small island of rocks. Holding his breath, he narrows them as the sun glares down at hm, burning his flesh. Sweat tricks from off of his forehead, chapped lips smacking together as he begins to smile.

'Bet it has something to do with the freak with the skull mask on.... Say, Mike, you ever seen his face before?' he asks with a furrowed brow.

Reflecting for a moment, he rests his hand against his hip, tapping his foot as he looks past Roland, staring into the sea as he contemplates. Resting either elbow on the edge of the ship, he lazily slouches awaiting the answer.

'No, can't say I have, hasn't left the house with that stupid fuckin' thing since he became one of the guards... you reckon it's real?' he asks with a laugh.

'Yeah fuckin' right,' Roland laughs, 'tied to the back of his head with pieces of silk, you really think someone like that has the fuckin' balls t’ kill someone and wear their skull as a souvenir?'

Both of them pause, sharing a look with one another.

Then Mike begins to laugh, Roland not too far behind as the pair of them howl.

His sickness abandons him as the pair of them laugh together. Tilting his back, he keeps his eyes screwed shut as he lifts a leg up, unable soothe the joyous ache in his gut.

'Yeah fuckin' right,' Mike says, wiping his eyes with his chubby fingers, 'he's doin' arts and crafts at...'

His laughter quells.

Even his sharp gasps for air dissipate.

Roland continues to laugh, only, after a few moments of silence, he clears his throat, his breath clawing at the inside of his throat.

He finds the hairs on his arms stand up, the wrinkles on his sickly face appearing as his peeling lips come together while lifting his head to look at Mike.

The elder man is pale, staring blankly past him into the sea.

'What?' Roland slowly asks, staring at the man, a smile tugging at his lips.

Unmoved by his comment, he turns his head to look in the direction where the man is looking.

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he holds his breath as his eyes scan over the area.

There's the depth of the sea, they have passed the rocks he's heard in many account from those who have survived the sirens.

There is nothing there but the sea and the sky.

'Got ya',' chuckles the man behind him, continuing to laugh in the same manner he was laughing in before, 'you really thought I was gonna say that there's a siren there, didn't you? Gotta get them off of your mind, son.'

‘I know,' Roland retorts, 'the skull faced freak really helped... like medicine he is, strange fellow, yet so good for the soul, eh?'

'Good for the soul, but not the wallet,' snorts the latter. 'Wouldn't even say he's medicine, you're givin' him too much credit by sayin' that.'

'Oh?' Roland says, 'then what do you suppose he is then?'

'A witches potion,' he answers.

'Even that seems too nice,' says the spotty man, 'a quacks remedy is more fitting I think.'

The pair of them begin to laugh again, the waves crashing either side of the boat, and with every second they grow further and further from the little pile of rocks, and he finds his aching muscles are soothed.

The bustling cheers of the sailor help to warm his heart and he begins to think that he can stomach some rum.

A drop wouldn't kill a man, that's for sure.

In fact, it'll probably work well to settle his stomach.

'I think I've had a change of heart on the invite,' he says with a smile, 'drop of rum never killed anyone, has it?' he continues on brightly as though he had not been moments away from emptying his guts all of the deck. 'Well, it hasn't yet, at least.'

'That's the spirit,' Mike grins, 'probably help you with that uneasy stomach of yours, know it helps with mine, at least,' he says so while patting his stomach, looking over his shoulder to towards the door beneath the top of the ship where the Captain stands.

The man doesn't even move to address Mike, keeping his eyes set right in front of him, his hat tilted slightly downwards to keep the sun out of his eyes.

Opening his mouth to respond, all air exudes from his lung as he feels an ice cold touch on his shoulder.

Slowly, he turns his head, looking down to the wet patch on his shirt. A short breath escapes him as he notes the webbed hand, nails as sharp as daggers digging through the fabric of his shirt.

'Gonna take more than a quacks remedy to fix your issues,' a soft voice whispers as the hand on his shoulder shifts, and with one fair slash, the skin on his throat is shred as he is pulled overboard.

A gargled scream escapes him.

Writhing against the strong hold, his eyes water as he gasps for air as his body is dragged under the current. Swallowing mouthfuls of blood and water, he chokes out babbled for them to come back, for them to stop as the ship charged through the seas.

Cruelly, the siren holding him keeps him above water as he chokes.

'Don't worry about them,' says the voice behind him, 'water's waitin' for them, a pretty song is too.'

With that, he cries out in agony as your nails are drove into his stomach, the flesh snapping as you drag your fingers through his stomach.

'You helped in her capture,' you seethe, 'you're lucky I haven't flooded the entire fucking town, but if I don't find the man who murdered her, you best believe that entire town is going to drown in the same water as you.'

'T- They'll...' he wretches out, the strength in his kicks calming as his eyes grow heavy, '...kill you,' he firmly states, gritting his teeth.

A loud laugh graces his ears as your grip on him loosens.

'Only if they can swim with a slit throat.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Blood washes off easily with water.

It's the nails it's difficult to remove it from, and he struggles with all his might as he stands at the edge of the shore, scraping his nails into the sand. It doesn't help at all, though, he still insists on doing so; it's the only time the stain of red is obscured.

The beach is bitter to him these days, and even though his mouth is protected from the elements as he keeps his balaclava over his mouth, he still feels a faint tingle on his mouth as he recalls the moment he spent here with you.

You're difficult to avoid, especially whenever he's passing the beach on patrol. Price has made a point to keep him away from it, placing him next to the Lords house during his patrols. He says it's to make it easier on him, so he's not as distracted while doing an important job.

When he's near the Lords house, his ears ring with the sound of your screaming and crying, and the blood under his nails grows darker.

There's a temptation whenever he's nearing the house; one cut to the throat and he would be dealt with.

As easy as that.

Truthfully, the old man has nothing to do with the issues going on within, but he's clamouring for someone to hate, for someone to blame. The old man made the orders, they could have just let her go, but they didn't.

And then you left with her.

In the morning after Serelia's burial, when he woke to an empty bed, his lungs turned to ice. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, the feeling of utter despair as he found the pink dress he had bought for you gone along with yourself.

There was no residue of body heat on your side of the bed, he struggled to find anything to even prove you existed as he rushed around the house with wild eyes.

'Sweetheart?' he called, forcing the door to the bathroom open.

The light shined in from the window, though, there was nothing in there aside from the bloody frock he'd helped you remove the night before.

Picking it up off of the ground, he held it out in front of him looking at the drying blood in the fabric. He didn't know why he did it if anything, it only works to worsen his panic.

In the midst of public, eyes are everywhere... what if someone heard your confession to him? What if it was the same someone who hurt Serelia?

He dropped the dress promptly, his hand over his mouth as his face paled at the very thought of you being taken- of you meeting the same fate as the poor siren he'd buried. Only, in the memory, it was your face he was covering with the shabby old white sheet he found in the cabin, and it was your blood on that dress and not hers.

For the next few minutes, he spent them on his knees, gripping the edge of the toilet as he threw up what little he had in his stomach, ridding his body of the last moments he had spent with you.

After the remnants of the pastry he'd eaten before were in the toilet bowl, he suffered through a terrible burning in his throat as his face grew hot as he thought against all urges to throw up anymore. Yet, he failed, a mixture of stomach acid and spit landing in the bowl.

The smell was grotesque, yet, the taste of it was even worse.

His eyes were teary when he eventually forced himself off of the ground, rushing out of the room, quickly changing into his uniform, leaving the skull of his mask in his bedroom, tying the balaclava around his face before rushing out of the door.

People look at him with raised brows, finally able to see the top part of his face, yet, he doesn't care as he sprints through the village, his heart pounding against his chest, hoping that one of the women passing him is you.

The library is closed, you can't be there and he wants to scream as he holds the side of his head, his throat tightening up. How he longed to have the simple luxury of seeing you sat in the library again with a book on your lap. Though, as he peered through the glass of the small building, the space was simply a husk.

Heat climbed up his neck as he heaves out desperate breaths. His skin grew itchy and his blunt nails clawed at the flesh on his neck as he gulped hard attempting to chase after air, to find some form of peace to calm himself.

You left in silence, you left without a goodbye- surely you wouldn't have been so cruel to do so. You would have said something to him, left something for him to let you know that you were okay.

The missing dress is the only form of hope he had, though, the missing dress means nothing; someone could have taken that with you to make it look as though you left on your own accord and not someone else's.

The world is spinning as his breathing quickens, he can hardly make sense of anything around him and he finds himself growing more frustrated by the second. You could be anywhere, he hadn't let you out of his sight for more than a month, and the moment he sleeps with you beside him is the moment you disappear.

After the library, he checked the beach, yet it was clear, not a being in sight, nor a siren.

You were nowhere to be found.

The crashing waves and the grey sky swelled in his head rendering him speechless as he blinks back the tears, clenching his fists as he turned away from ocean, returning back to the village.

When he opened the door to the station, the first face he was greeted with was the both who Price had tasked with the mission of looking after Serelia.

The fool who was sloppy enough to leave her by herself.

'Mornin' Si', you want a tea?' Johnny asked, turning his attention away from Rhys standing beside him.

He doesn't care to respond to the man, instead, he grabbed the throat of the man beside him, slamming him against the wall with gritted teeth.

The man startled in his hold, letting out a loud gasp as Simon's fist around his neck tightens with the intent of only loosening when he felt the bone crunch in his fist.

'You fucking bastard!' he screamed.

Rhys doesn't dare move, weak wretches escaping him as he squirmed in his hold.

A hand grabs his shoulder, 'woah, woah, hey, Simon calm down!' Johnny exclaimed, 'you're gonna kill the fuckin' kid.'

'That' the whole point,' he snapped, 'you let that fuckin' siren die.'

'I- I didn't,' the man managed out.

'You left her alone and she was fucking murdered- this is your fault, Price put you up to it and you left her with no one there to protect her and she died.'

At that point, he could hear the blood in his veins, and had he not been forced off of him by Johnny and Price, he very well would have snapped the kids neck.

Rhys fell to the ground with a harsh gasp while Price stepped in front of him and Johnny kept hold his arms. When Simon stepped forward, Price placed his hand against his chest, shoving him backwards.

'Simon,' warned the man, 'bring it in, I've already got the death of that fucking siren on my case, I don't need another one to account for too.'

His eyes grew blurry as he looked at the man.

'What's wrong?' Johnny asked from behind him, 'whats happened?'

Everything folded in on itself, the cold morning, the absence of you and your dress, the bloody dress on the floor. Everything, every single thing he built with you collapsed, and he was unable to keep it all together as he ripped his arms from out of Johnny's hold.

Looking past Price, he pointed his finger in the direction of the brown-haired man on the floor, clenching his teeth, 'it's your fault she's fuckin' gone,' he seethes, 'all your fucking fault,' he mustered up before storming out the Station, blinking back tears as he returned home, knowing you weren't going to be there.

The beach is bitter now, but the memory is worse.

He doesn't know why he bothers to sit at the beach during the nighttime, perhaps it's in the hope that you'll reappear, or maybe the moon will send him a sign that you're safe somewhere her, and that the only part of you with Serelia is the skirt from the bloody frock he still has in his house.

It's peaceful at night, especially with the waves rolling in gently, and he imagines you're sitting on a rock somewhere, humming a sweet tune, causing trouble as you did so.

Anyone else would have been horrified with the confession, though, as he thinks about the damage that the people in the village have done to you, he wishes you'd flood the entire village and wipe it clean of all the scum in it.

At least then, even if he were to die in the flood, he'd die knowing that it was by your hand and no one else's.

And in his death, the man who he was held back from would also meet the same fate. That's all he's asking for.

Unsheathing the dagger in his belt, he drives it into the ground, dragging it through the grains of sand, taking his eyes from the sea to the deep line he's carved into the sand.

The throat of the Lord or Rhys would be better suited, though, he knows the fate awaiting him if he does something like that.

As he stares at the sand, the crunch of boots against the sand or the creak of a lantern behind him catching his attention though he doesn't turn his head; he knows the walking pattern well... he needs to get lighter on his feet if he's going to attempt to scare him.

'Thought I'd find ya 'ere, Lt,' says the man, walking beside him, not bothering to ask him if he can take a seat beside him. With a grunt, he lands on the ground, exhaling as he looks to the man sitting beside him. 'You've been comin' here since she left.'

'You spying on me?' Simon retorts.

'Seen you while on patrol, actually,' Johnny answers, 'difficult to miss, a big lump of coal you are,' he says with a chuckle, 'ya looked like you needed the company 'cause you've been keeping to yourself for months, and I know ye not typically a man of many words, but you've become a Ghost.'

He doesn't answer him, instead, he drivers his knife further into the sand.

'You gonna tell me what's actually going on, or are you gonna keep it a secret so no one can help you?' he asks, 'I've been thinking about the state of you the morning you nearly broke that kids neck, I've never seen you like that before.'

'You'll never see me like that again.'

'What did the death of that siren have to do with her leaving?'

His knuckles whiten around the knife.

'Kyle told us she was in a right state when Rhys got to the Station that morning. You forced him to keep everyone away from the cabin but the entire village heard her crying,' he explained, 'it was the talk of the town for days after.'

Looking at the man sitting beside him, he fights against the truth.

'The siren was what she was here for, wasn't she?' he asked.

Simon's breath gets caught in his throat.

'I've been goin' over it for weeks whenever I get a spare minute, the carry on out of her, her washing up on the shore out of the blue- not being able to remember the name of where her and her sister were goin' on that ship... none of that was true, was it?'

'No,' Simon answered, 'she told me when we found Serelia, we buried her and in the night she left... or someone took her,' he said.

'You think someone took her?'

'She was screamin' for the entire fuckin' village to hear, Johnny,' he snaps, letting go of the knife as he turns his attention back towards the ocean, 'anyone coulda heard her, including whoever killed Serelia. And I just keep goin' over it.'

He knows he'd never be able to forgive himself if such was confirmed, for what kind of protector would he be if he couldn't have stopped that monster from getting to you?

'What if she just... went back to the water?' he asks, 'that's where she belongs anyway, right? If she got a hold of the girl, she would have went back with her anyway.'

'She didn't say goodbye,' Simon utters.

'Maybe she didn't say goodbye because she knew you wouldn't be able to go,' he shrugs, 'if she woke you in the middle of the night and told you she had to go back home, would you have let her go?'

As he looks out onto the water, he contemplates his question, thinking back to the very night he lost you. He recalls the pair of you lying his bed, how you mumbled one last 'I love you' to him before leaving. Only, this time, you didn't leave without telling him. Instead, you look him dead in the eyes and tell him that you have to go.

Even debating the scenario in his head causes his heart to hurt.

'No...' he begins, his eyes narrowing as he keeps his eyes trained on the water.

It's difficult to see in the darkness, though, the light from the moon against the water highlights something bobbing closer and closer to the shore. Raising to his feet, Johnny looks up at him.

'You see that?' he asks, motioning over to the water.

The blob in the sea dips and raises with each wave rolling in, though with his mask and tired eyes, he's unsure if he's seeing something because it's there, or if his imagination is simply willing it to be sign he has been craving for the past couple of months.

'Aye,' he says, raising to his feet.

The pair stand idly staring at the bobbing blob.

'Whatever it is, it isn't alive,' says Johnny, watching as the man beside him shrugs off his cloak, untying the ribbon of his mask and pulling the balaclava off of his face, allowing it all to fall to the floor.

'Keep an eye on it for me, won't you?' Simon asks, looking over his shoulder, not bothering to wait for a response as he rushes into the water, heading directly towards the mysterious mass in the water.

Wading through the water, his pants grow heavier as his boots fill with water, though, he's uncaring as the water reaches his waist. The closer her gets to the body, the darker he finds the water grows.

'You know what it is yet?' calls the man on the shore.

Squinting, he reaches his hand out, placing his hand against the strange mass, pulling it over so he can see what it is.

Hollowed out eyes stare back at him, the sockets devoid of eye balls as he stares at the corpse a float in the water. It's intestines brush against his knee as though they have a life of their own.

The sight is brutal and in the darkness, he can't quite make out the feature of who the body is.

Grabbing the corpse under its armpits, he turns his head back to shore to see Johnny waiting with eager eyes to see what has been uncovered.

'It's a dead body!' Simon says with a grunt as he pulls the body through the water, leaving a trail of blood behind him as he drags it with him.

From behind him there's a slosh of water, the stammering breaths of the man appearing right beside him as he gawks at the corpse. He doesn't say anything, quite reserved for a man who is looking death in the eyes. Instead, he grabs its arm, helping Simon pull it to shore.

The heels of the corpse dig into the sand as he's pulled back to shore, the pair of them dropping him with a huff. Their clothes drip against the land as Johnny grabs the lantern he left beside Simon's masks and cloak, holding it over the body so the pair of them can grasp what it is they're dealing with.

The torso of the corpse is naked, the flesh of its stomach looking as though some sort of wild animal had gotten its hands on him. Only, its the intent of the cuts that tells him otherwise, his throat hangs open, exposing the top of his spine and vocal cords, loose flaps of skin blowing in the wind as the corpse leaks sea water and blood onto the sand.

As Simon moves his eyes up, he lets out a brittle exhale.

'This is one of the fellas who left on the ship today,' Johnny comments, looking to Simon who simply keeps his eyes glued to the chest of the man. 'Roland...' his words trail as he rips his eyes from off of the corpses face, all to see the very thing that Simon is staring at.

Johnny gulps.

'Your girl capable of doing that?' he says with a raised eyebrow.

In the bloody mess of the man, he finds exactly what he has been hoping to fine since he woke up that morning to find you were gone.

Of course, it could have been a shark attack- something other than the work of your hand, only, the confirmation of life is etched into the body as though it's a stone tablet or a tombstone.

Carved into the chest of the dead man is the word 'murderer'.

Simon smiles at the sight of the corpse, looking out onto the water.

'That's her,' he breathes, looking towards the moon, 'she's alive.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The thing is, with humans at least, they're fragile when it comes to pain.

When something seems out of the ordinary, they're inclined to shit themselves and become a crying blubbering mess, begging for mercy as though it is them who are innocent when they acted with the intent of taking another's life.

Even the strongest man cowers when they're forced to encounter something unknown, and you rejoice as you blood at the bloody man on his knees before you.

The curse of the moon never truly left you, still tied to the humans upon leaving the water, and while you have a prolific distaste for you can no longer join the sirens upon the rocks, it works well when the ship is driven into rocks and one of the men manage to scramble to the shore.

He thinks he's safe until you walk from out of the water.

The tides turn and the small smirk on his face disappears as he realises you do indeed have legs and can walk right up to him. Either way, he's a fool to possess such smugness, a song from the water would have drove him right back to you anyway.

'P- Please, please, please, I- I'm sorry, what do you want? I'll give you whatever you want, you want money?' he chokes out, holding his hands out in front of him.

The blood of his friend you plucked from off of the ship mingles with the sea water as he trembles in the cool breeze.

Some dry patches even stick to him, a clump of congealed blood sticking to one of his eyebrows. Trebling hands dig into his pockets as he holds out a handful of golden coins.

You think of Simon briefly, smiling to yourself as you recall the soup you attempted to made with the golden coins he had given you. How you basked in the light of his home eating the slop in the bowl, but none of that mattered because the pair of you had each other.

And then your mind falls to the dress he gifted you.

The dress you left on the bathroom floor, the dress you ripped to leave a piece of yourself with Serelia, the dress stained with her blood.

Raising your hand, you slap the money out of his hands, the coins landing with a hollow thud onto the sand of the a small cove. 'I don't want your money,' you snap, grabbing his shirt, pulling him to you with gritted teeth. 'I want you to answer my question, and if you dance around it, I'll cut you from gut to gullet and let the sharks eat the rest of you body.'

'Of course, o- of course, anything, I'll tell you anything you want to know,' shudders the man, tears flowing freely down his wrinkled face.

Edging closer to him, your face is right in front of his, you can smell the booze on his breath as he sniffles, looking at you doe eyes.

'Who killed the siren you captured?'

He looks at you, opening his mouth as he stumbles and trips over the words leaving his mouth. All attempts to form words are lost to the panic he works himself into as he attempts to think of an answer which will satisfy you, yet keep whoever is guilty safe.

Your grip grows tighter on his hair.

'I- I don't know, I don't know, I'm sorry,' he sobs, 'please- please—'

Shoving him back onto the ground, you turn away from him, clenching your fists.

'Bull-fucking-shit.'

His sobs simmer as you look back to the water, taking a moment to contemplate his response. And, you find that you don't like what he has to say, in fact, you fucking despise it because you know for a fact he is full of shit.

Turning sharply on your heel, you look at the man, taking a breath before bringing your hand across his face. He falls with a huff, his face pressing against the sand as he lets out another pitiful cry.

'Wrong answer, try again,' you demand, leaning over, grabbing a fistful of his greasy hair, pulling his head up. Your breath ghosts his ear as you speak through clenched teeth, 'who killed the siren?'

'I- I heard whispers around the village!' he blurts, 'they said that whoever it was was smart and no one suspects them of it... b- but I know it wasn't the man you murdered.'

You let go of his hair.

The only people who knew where Serelia was were the Guards of the village and you know Simon would never have done something so brutal. Price cares too much about his duty to do something so horrible, even though to him, you're sure her death was much more of an inconvenience then it was a heartbreak.

Your mind aches as you go down to Johnny and Gaz. Why would they do something so cruel? As much as you despise their kind, you struggle to see why they would bring harm to her. It wouldn't make sense- even Gaz told you he would have freed her if their hands were

And then your heart stops.

Confirmation is the one thing you have longed for since returning to the sea, the one thing your sisters have wanted for the longest time. You looks at you with wide eyes, stammering out whispers as you release your hold on him.

The entire time you thought she was safe, she was in the hands of her murderer.

Your self indulgence and brief romance cost her her life.

Placing your hand against your forehead, you pace back and forwards in front of the man.

'The boy who Price hired to make sure she was safe,' you mumble to yourself, wiping your face with your hand. How could you have been so blind? Word never got out about her being anywhere, he never went home that night... he disappeared and Gaz couldn't find him that morning.

He was getting rid of the evidence of his crime and he succeeded.

Walking down the sand, you ignore the calls of the man as you return to the water. There's nothing around, no land, no safety, simply just a small cove a lot of soldiers don't account for until it is, fortunately, too late.

'Hey! Hey! You can't leave me here!' screams the man as you walk further into the water. 'I'm going to die out here! There's nothing around here, please, I told you what you wanted, how some mercy.'

Stopping in your tracks, you exhale, peering over your shoulder.

'This is mercy,' you briefly answer before walking into the water, disappearing out of his view for good.

Even under the water his screams travel though you don't care to show any form of kindness as you move away.

He deserves his death for his attempted lie, and you also find anger bubbling for you know what you have to do because of his confession- something you have been escaping for a while.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

They work well on the side of the law, they stick to it as much as they can, though, when the pair of them shared a look while on the beach, they both knew what they had to do.

The breeze is gentle as the move the body further up the beach, occasionally turning their heads to look upwards in the direction for any sign of life as they do so.

Roland's intestines drag along the shore, his body leaking blood and water, leaving a gruesome trail behind the pair of them. Fortunately, the water will wash any trace of gore away and it will be as though he never existed in the first place.

'Why has she decided to pop up now?'

'First ship at sea for months,' he states, 'I'm surprised she hasn't tried to drag the entire village underwater with how torn she was.'

'What did you do with the girls body?' he asked, 'had Price choked up as he tried to explain to the Lord where the body disappeared off to, as far as he's concerned, there's no such thing as sirens cause he hasn't seen it with his own eyes.'

The old Lord is stubborn in his ways, that the pair of them know well enough not to bother questioning his reasonings. Upon his return, Simon recalls the look of upset when Price had to inform the man that they, as the guards of the village, failed at their duties. The body of the siren was nowhere to be seen, and he had to stand and watch as the Captain was subject to a brutal scolding, knowing well where the sirens body had disappeared off to.

It was unfair of him to do that, risking John's position all to keep the burial ground sacred and untouched, but he was still bruised and bleeding from the events that had taken place that night and the morning following.

All he can think about while standing in the room was the look on your face, how your bottom lip wobbled as you laid the fabric of your cherished dress upon the deceased girl, not bothering to consider your love for the item on your body, rather, the love you had for the woman lying in the ground.

Nothing was worth destroying that moment. Nothing.

'Buried it,' Simon answers, 'she's buried at the top of the cliff, just past the Lords house,' he says, setting the man down on the ground as they edge closer and closer to a small cove beneath the cliff, looking up at it.

'Lookin' over her home, ey?' Johnny asks with a small smile, 'her idea, I'm guessing.'

'It was mine, actually.'

'Didn't know y' were the sentimental type, Lt,' he comments with a smile, 'didn't know y' even had a heart.'

'I do,' Simon retorts.

'Really?'

'Yeah... a cold one.'

He doesn't miss the way the latter rolls his eyes.

'Wouldn't be sayin' that if she was here with you right now though, would ya?' he laughs, taking a breath before the pair of them continue to move the body. 'No, I can imagine y' now, all loved up. Thought of it makes me sick.'

Simon fights off the urge to scoff.

'Just say y' jealous, Johnny.'

'Oh, I am so jealous. I wish I had you to fall asleep to every night,' he whispers, his eyes moving from Simon to the body in their arms, 'cause, if that were the case, we'd be in bed right now, not carryin' a dead body, which your siren girlfriend mutilated, to hide it in a fuckin' cave,' he huffs, the darkness of the small cove swallowing the pair as they walked into it.

'These are typical activities for couples. We'd still be doin' it.'

Johnny doesn't bother to respond as the pair of them move further and further into the beast belly. 'Y' sure no kids gonna stumble across this corpse; he's gonna start to smell.'

'Tides rolling in tomorrow morning, not goin' back out until night,' Simon says, 'he'll be dragged back out to sea before anyone else gets to him.'

'Well, I hope y' right; if not, your girlfriends gonna be in a lot of trouble when the people in the village find out about this,' he says, finally relieving himself of the duty when he feels Simons hands slipping off of the body.

It lands in the wet sand of the cove with a wet splat, and the pair of them stare through the darkness, Johnny lifting his foot to find where exactly they placed the body.

'You think she's gonna come back?'

'Didn't dig her nails into him to for fun, Lt,' he answers, 'I reckon she'll show her face soon.'

Whether it is a few days, or even weeks, he doesn't care.

'I hope so.'

As long as you find your way back to him, the knowledge of you living is enough to soothe his weary eyes.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The sisters of a siren are fierce and loyal, even when your tongue burns as you speak to them of the events which had happened during your time on land.

You suffered similar hardships to Serelia, at least, they're convinced you did.

So, as you address the group with blown eyes drawn to the surface, explaining your reasoning as to why you should tread the land, to go back into that village, you're hardly surprised when their looks change as they address you.

Motive is of importance and you wish to solve the case, to bring justice to the woman buried on the cliff edge.

But, selfishly, you're also wishing to bring justice to a man who you wronged.

'Return to land?' a voice barks, 'you will do no such thing; the last time one of us went on Land, her life was taken from her cruelly, I'm not allowing that to happen to you, not at all,' she continues.

You stare at her, looking around at the other disapproving faces which surround you. There's still a void where she would have sat and you feel your lips pulling down into a frown as you stare blankly at the space beside the woman who holds her pointer finger up at you.

'It's irresponsible, you'll get yourself killed if you do that.'

'I finally have confirmation of which human killed Serelia, Raithe,' you respond, rubbing your face as you turn your eyes from the empty space to the angered siren. 'I can kill him, I will kill him, but I need to be on land in order to do so.'

There's a brief silence between yourself and the ground and you feel your chest tightening as you observe all their faces. While stoic, you feel as though the sea is pressing all its weight down onto you in an unlawful attempt to drown you.

Though, in the eyes of unhappiness, you find that you would be thankful if the sea had such a mercy on you.

'I don't understand why we never lead the entire village into the sea,' another siren says, batting her blonde eyelashes as she looks at you, 'would've have gotten this over in a second. We kept our silence up in the first place because they never got as far as killing one of our own, but they captured her and held her as a prisoner- they held you as a prisoner too,' she continues, 'why are you showing them mercy? They deserve to drown for their crimes.'

You pale at the thought of committing such an act against the village.

'Because...' your words trail as you take a harsh breath, sinking further into the current, 'there are children in the village- that's not who we are.'

All of them raise their eyebrows in your direction and you feel small as they do so. Your shoulders touch the lobes of your ears as your entire body tenses.

'That not who you are, not anymore at least,' Raithe scoffs, narrowing her black eyes. 'You've gone soft.'

'No I haven't,' you refute, 'I- I just—'

'She's in love she is,' another speaks, pushing through the water, moving behind you to grab your shoulders. Pushing you closer to the group, her grip tightenings as she forces your neck to the side, the base of her nose ghosting your flesh as inhales your scent.

You freeze as she does so, the only saving thought being the fact that you haven't been held by Simon in months.

Her sharp nails press against the flesh on your stomach, her eyes narrowing as grabs your face, forcing you to look at her.

'Tainted, you are,' she says, 'look in her eyes, look how she moves, you're protecting the very humans that killed our sister,' she accuses, the looks on the others faces hardening in your direction.

'You don't want to go on land for revenge, you want to go and see whoever you were with during the time you were supposed to be searching for Serelia,' Raithe exclaims, 'you are just as much of a monster as those humans are, you wicked little witch!'

'No, no I'm not,' you quickly blurt.

'Then we flood the village; they're all guilty of murder because they helped take her in the first place,' answers the black-haired woman simply.

With beady eyes you look at her, and when a tight-lipped smile appears on her face, you feel the sudden urge to vomit.

You sense betrayal burning in their beings and have an overwhelming desperation to be away from them despite the ties of blood that keep you bound as sisters.

You're released from the hold of the siren behind you all for your face to be caught with the hand of Raithe. Keeping her webbed hand against your face, her grip tightens on you, nails digging into your cheeks as she grits her dagger-like teeth at you.

You squirm in an attempt to escape her hold, yet the only thing you achieve as you do such is forcing her nails deeper.

'You chose your side even before this meeting,' Raithe seethes, 'you chose it when you let Serelia die, you chose it when you lied to us because you are in love, Amalise is right,' she laughs, shaking her head. 'You love a human, how can you be so sure they wouldn't do what they did to you what their kind did to Serelia?'

'B- Because he isn't like that,' you cry, 'he isn't like that, he took care of me, he did everything he could to make me happy and he helped me bury Serelia.'

Your eyes grow wide as you realise the confession that accidentally slipped past your lips.

You don't miss the collective gasp, nor do you miss the feeling of Raithe's hold on you loosening, pulling away from you completely.

'You buried her?' Amalise asks, 'you buried her on land?' her tone raises as she clenches your fist.

'I couldn't have—'

You're struck with a razor sharp hand.

Her claws tear the flesh of your face as you're thrown through the current.

For a moment, you're much too dazed to realise what has happened until your grabbed by the throat.

'How fucking dare you!' Raithe screams, 'you lied to us a- and you buried her on land away from us so we cannot visit her? You are no siren, you are just as monstrous as those humans.'

Her fist tightens around your throat, specks of darkness appearing in your eyes as you attempt to pull her hand off of you. Your nails dig into her flesh, but she doesn't budge.

'You wish to be a human so bad, right? That's what you want, you're burdened by being one of us because if they knew, they would kill you because that's who they are.'

'N- No,' you choke out.

She edges closer to you.

'I don't believe you,' she utters, looking over her shoulder, 'I say she returns to the land, let her human have her,' she suggests, addressing the other sirens.

Much to your horror, they nod in agreement.

Raithe turns back to you, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her black eyes. 'You can be there to witness his death when we lead him to the sea,' she firmly says as you weakly writhe, blood pouring from the slash on your face, a tingling washing your entire body as your hands on her wrists falter and the world begins to grow dark.

'See if he still loves you with a ruined face.'

A final wretch escapes you before you're forced into darkness, leaving the world behind with the disapproving look of Raithe being the very last thing you see.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Patrol around the village these is quiet, and while he enjoys the silence most of the time, he can't help but hate the silence he's plagued with as he's walking around the dark streets.

No matter where he walks he can never escape the sound of the crashing waves. Typically, he enjoys the sound of the water, of the gulls squawking as he passes by the beach, only, ever since uncovering the body of that sailor, he's found the sound only takes him back to the leaking body parts and hollow eyes.

In his time he has seen a lot, yet, that truly takes the cake.

It's for a good cause, Simon knows the implications of the siren attacks and if word got out to the village folk, it will sure be difficult to fix. Their silence has been in their favour as he hardly hears mentions of Serelia in the village anymore, yet, he knows the fear is still there for a lot of people.

Like a criminal, while on patrol, he cannot help but return to the scene of the crime, watchful eyes looking over the shore in search for blots of blood.

It's difficult to know why he is doing so; as far as he's concerned, no one knows what the pair of them did, and truthfully, if someone does stumble across the body, he is fine.

No one suspects a guard, the protector of all.

Sea foam coats the bottom of his boots as he mindlessly wanders further down the beach, his tired eyes looking up towards the moon sitting in the sky. Despite the clouds blocking any stars from his view, the moon makes sure to make her presence known.

If he weren't so tired, maybe he'd acknowledge the red tinge marking her surface.

'Hey you,' a voice hisses.

He stops, snapping his head to look around, his forehead wrinkling as he spies a woman a few meters away from him sitting in the water.

Upon first glance, he straightens his posture, preparing to scold the woman for being so careless, walking out into the water alone in the dead of the night.

Then, the water around her shifts as she lifts her tail up from out of the wind, the moonlight catching the green tinge of her scales.

'Bloody hell,' he blurts out under his breath.

Before him lies a woman with thick, long black hair.

She kicks her tail up, resting her arms around the ground as she stares up at him with wide, black eyes, offering him the best smile she can muster. Her teeth are as sharp as knives and she trails her tongue over the points of them as she grins.

'Come closer,' she requests.

'Ye gonna kill me, lassie,' he responds, 'I know ave got a fun haircut, but am not that stupid.'

The woman scoffs.

'I'm asking you nicely,' she sharply states, 'walk away and you'll be right back in the water with the sound of a song, so I advise you do what I'm asking of you and come closer.'

She grows as cold as the wind as she stares at him, her brows furrowing as she looks in his direction.

Goosebumps form on his skin, and while his head is telling him to do anything else, he relents to her demands, slowly moving closer to her.

The water touches his boots as she sighs, pushing herself off of her stomach, rolling the water with a bright grin, lifting her head to look at the man with a giggle.

'Oh, you listen so well, who would have thought a human would be obedient,' she chuckles, allowing her webbed hands to fall above her head, merely missing the edge of his boots. 'I've got something for you,' she claims.

'A death sentence, perhaps?'

'There was a girl in this village a while back... few months ago now, looked as you did, with your legs and your gill-less necks, but she wasn't true to you, nor your people for she was a siren.'

His eyebrows raise upon her words, and she laughs harder.

'Oh so now I've got your interest now... I don't suppose you're the lover she had while she was on land, are you?'

'Nae.'

'Do you know of the man who she loved?'

'Aye, he's my friend,' he says with a nod, 'you know where she is?'

'I have her with me, some of my friends are keeping hold of her,' she explains, 'but... we've been having a talk, you see, and she no longer views the ocean as her home, nor does she view us as her sisters; she has been tainted by your kind.'

Her face contorts in a horrific manner as she pokes at the tips of his boots. Though, he doesn't move, knowing better than to sacrifice the happiness of Simon for the sake of his own safety.

The man needs this- he needs you back.

'I'm a woman of morality and I am not going to force her to stay where she doesn't want to be, and quite frankly, she is no longer one of our own- rather a traitor to her own kind,' she says, sitting up from off of the ground, looking out at the sea, 'so, you can have her, let her seek out the man who she loves.'

Everything she's saying seems too good to be true.

As he looks away from the woman, two more heads appear above the water, though they are that of shadows as they move forward. As the move closer and closer, the black-haired woman reaches out with greedy hands, and from out of the water, she plucks you, pulling you up the shore with a grunt.

In the moonlight, he catches the brutal gash on your face, how you tale shimmers in the moonlight before it melts into the sand, dissipating in a crude shimmer as you're pushed to him.

'What have y' done to her?' he asks, rushing towards your unconscious form, shrugging his jacket from off of his shoulders, using it to cover you.

'She isn't dead,' answers the black-haired woman, 'that would have been too kind,' she barks out a laugh, watching as Johnny takes you into his arms, staggering backwards from her. 'No need to fear us,' she gently coos, 'at least, not yet.'

He doesn't care to listen a second longer as he looks down to the deep wound across your face, rushing across the beach towards the steps which lead back into the village, the cackle of the siren booming.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Nighttime is quiet now.

Whenever he isn't working, he's only plagued with violent desires and ideas, tossing and turning on the sofa, curtains drawn so the moon cannot see him.

His feet hang off of the sofa, a dull ache in his spine as he lies in darkness, unable to sleep.

Tonight is particularly difficult as his heartbeat thumps against his chest and he finds himself tossing and turning at the very fact that, the night before, he got the confirmation he has been longing for for months.

You're alive.

Only, after a while of joy, he finds sadness lurks beneath the realisation as Johnny's point of you returning to the water very well may be true, meaning you left him willingly.

Your absence is cruel in that sense.

He's staring at his skull mask, slowly dozing off as the pounding sound of fists against his door tear him from his dazed state. They're eager, quick and desperate. If they knock any harder, they very well might knock the door down.

With a snarl on his face, he pulls back the thin sheet drawn over his body, marching up to the door. From beyond it, he hears pants for air, not missing a thick accent uttering, 'c'mon bonnie, you're fine, yeah?'

Immediately, he grabs the handle of the door, forcing it open with a hard pull.

The knocking stops as Johnny looks up at him with wild eyes, shoving past him with a body in his arms, rushing into the living room. For a moment, Simon keeps his eyes trained on the now empty spot where he was just standing, a short breath escaping him as he recalls the familiar colour of the hair.

Slowly, he closes the door, listening to the ragged breaths of the man, turning to him with his stomach in knots. He watches as you're placed down onto the couch, air escaping him as he notes the red stain in the mans white shirt as he turns his attention to him.

'It's her, Si',' he says.

Simon doesn't move.

'Some siren was sittin' on the beach, she gave her to me, said she'd betrayed her kind- that she's no better than us,' he explains, moving away from the sofa to the bookshelf, his hand patting along the wood in hopes of uncovering the box of matches he's spied a few times.

Moving over to the sofa, Simon reaches his hand out to you, resting it down on your shoulder. You're cold to the touch, the scent of sea water filling his nose as he hears the scrape of a match and the crackle of a wick.

An orange light is cast over your being as Johnny stands beside him with a candle in his hand.

From out of the darkness appears a crude claw-like mark on your cheek, blood dripping from the harsh gash down onto your bruised neck.

'What the fuck did they do to her?' he asks through gritted teeth, tearing at the fabric of his own shirt, kneeling down beside you, pressing the fabric against the cut on your face.

A noise escapes you when he does so, and he feels a heat bubbling in his stomach.

'You're okay, sweetheart,' he utters gently, keeping a firm pressure on the wound.

'I don't know,' Johnny answers, 'pulled her out of the water and gave 'er to me... said they don't want her anymore.'

Blood soaks into the fabric of his shirt as you stir.

A moan escapes your mouth, and as your eyes slowly open, you're aware of the agonising pain emitting from your cheek. Then follows the feeling of a familiar sofa, the sound of familiar voices and the warmth of a familiar hold.

Opening your eyes, you're greeted with the sight of Simon in the candle light.

Despite the bags under his eyes and the addition of a few pink scars on his face, he still looks as glorious as he did the night you left him.

'Simon?' you choke out at the sight of him.

You catch a shift in his eyes as he looks at you.

'I'm here, love,' he gently says, 'you're safe; I've got you.'

You can be there to witness his death when we lead him to the sea.

You hear her voice, her cruel tone, and the coldness of her words flood through your veins, fighting off any ounce of warmness from Simon's reassurances.

I shouldn't be here.

In the blink of an eye, you're sitting up and his hold is removed from off of your face as you scramble to the other side of the couch, wincing as a harsh dizziness floods your senses and the desire to vomit springs upon you.

'N- no, no, no,' you quickly say, lifting your head with narrow eyes, pulling the fabric of Johnny's coat against your bare body as you look at the two men with teary eyes. 'How... why, why am I here? How did you get me here?' you ask in a panicked tone.

Simon looks to Johnny and Johnny looks at you.

'There was a siren on the beach—'

'Who?' you snap, 'what colour was her hair?'

'Black... bonnie, are you okay? What happened?'

'I can't be here,' you ramble, 'they're gonna do something bad, they're gonna do it all because of me and- and I—'

You begin to cry.

'I can't be here, you've got to let me go,' you beg, attempting to raise to your feet, all for the dizziness to keep you down. 'Please, please!'

You feel as though the world is ending.

Unable to escape the horror of the words expressed, you fight against yourself and the urge to spill your guts all over the floor of the living room, your tears seeping into the wound on your face.

Simon moves closer to you, placing his hand against your knee, looking up at you with teary eyes.

Reaching out your hand, you rest it against his cheek as more tears flow freely, letting out a hiccup upon being graced with the warmth of his face.

'I'm sorry,' you cry.

Placing his hand over your own, he shushes you, 'we'll talk about it once you've told us what's happened, alright sweetheart?' he asks gently, 'what happened?'

His calmness in the face of horror is unnerving, and as you look in his eyes, you spy a darkness in his eyes. You wish to be in his arms, but your temper keeps you from fulfilling the urge as you press your trembling lips together, wincing as you swallow.

'They know,' you say, looking at Simon, 'they know about you,' you choke out, 't- they think I'm a traitor and they want you dead- they want to put the entire village to death for what happened to Serelia.'

His hold tightens on your hand.

'Why didn't you want the same as them?' Johnny asks, 'very well could have put the entire village under water if y' willed it.'

'Because there are people here who don't deserve to die,' you sniffle, 'there are innocent people here a- and it isn't fair to punish them for the violence of someone else's hand,' you explain, 'they're blinded by their rage, and if I were without experience, I would be too.'

You curse the part of you which still sympathises with the people who cast you out, though, you know enough to understand who the true villain is. Not the sirens, not the humans, rather, the ignorance of both sides refusing to see the perspective of the others.

And here you are, attempting to piece together a bridge.

The pair before you don't speak and you feel your heart beating quicker as you look into the eyes of the lover you abandoned many moons ago. You spy betrayal in his gaze, though his anger is not directed towards you.

'They're gonna lead the entire village underwater,' you breath, 'I don't know when they're going to do it and I don't know how to stop them when they finally do decide they want to do it,' you say, your eyes welling with tears.

'Oh love,' Simon exhales gently.

'We won't let anythin' happen, lass, y' have my word,' Johnny reassures.

You suppose he wants you to find comfort in his words, yet, his enthusiasm only works to bruise you further; you know there's nothing either of them can do, not against the call of a siren.

'I offered to go back on land,' you whisper, 'I told them I could do it; we finally got the name if the man who killed Serelia.'

'This have somethin' to do with the man y' massacred?' Johnny asks.

'I was following the ship because I recognised him,' you answer, recalling the tone he carried while talking about the man in front of you.

Even if he hadn't been responsible for helping in her capture, you still would have been taken from off of the boat.

'He was one of the people who carried Serelia off of the beach. He deserved what became of him.'

To regret would be to forgive, and you will never forgive a man who did something so terrible.

'We crashed the boat, all but one died, and I asked him if he knew who did it. He told me he didn't know who, but he had an idea of who did it; people around here know that whoever it was is close to the guard.'

Both Johnny and Simon share a look.

'Y' not saying you think it's one of us, are you?' Simon asks, to which you quickly shake your head.

'No, no, I know neither of you would do that- not even Kyle or Price would stoop that low... it's the one who was supposed to look after her, Si'. It was the one who told us she was dead that morning.'

The silence in the room is deafening.

Simon's hand moves away from yours as he slowly begins to stand up, his eyes falling back to the staircase. 'Rhys?' Johnny says, his eyes blown, 'he said he liked her.'

Your eyes stay on Simon's as he clenches his fists, the mellow look which has been on his face since he saw you melting off. Trailing his tongue across the inside of his mouth, you gulp thickly viewing his anger.

'I'm gonna fuckin' kill him,' he coldly says.

It's not a threat, rather, a promise.

Neither you or Johnny say anything, instead, the pair of you share a look before your eyes fall back to Simon who is already making his way out of the living room towards the staircase.

If you speak now, you fear the repercussions of stopping him from doing what he's set his mind on doing; while you never saw anything during your first time on land, you're not unknown to the truth of who he truly is.

'Simon,' you blurt out, unable to fight against your thoughts as you look up the stairs.

He stops in his tracks, heaving out a heavy breath before turning to you. You can hardly make him out in the dim light as he moves, devoid of all the light which makes his so ethereal.

Still, in the light or darkness, he's still the man who holds you heart.

'D- Don't act on that anger now,' you quietly say, 'the only way of saving the village from them is to give them what they want... if they want Rhys, they'll want him alive, and if they don't want me, then I'll stay here,' you say through a laboured breath.

Your heartaches at the thought of leaving your home, leaving the grave of your mother abandoned for all the others to swarm. But, if they so willingly cast you out, then, you suppose they were never truly family in the first place.

'Just... stay with me tonight, yeah?' you ask, 'don't want you to do something harsh when you're not thinking straight; he'll get what he deserves, just not tonight.'

You hear him shift as Johnny sets the lit candle down onto the stand beside the sofa. 'She's right, Lt, can't be doin' something that will keep you away from your bonnie; been away from each other long enough, hey?'

He moves away from the darkness, coming back into the light. You offer him a smile as he places his hand against your shoulder with a short nod. Placing your hand over his, you melt into his hold. Johnny looks at the pair of you with a smile on his face.

'We'll sort out a plan in the morning about what we'll do,' Simon says, 'figure out how we're gonna get him to the sirens, and if they agree with the deal, then we'll offer him up and forget this entire thing ever happened.'

'Aye,' Johnny says with a firm nod, approaching the door, 'make sure y' get her cleaned up, I'll meet the pair of you at the bakery tomorrow,' he continues, pulling the door open, looking over his shoulder at the pair of you.

Simon nods his head. 'Affirmative.'

As the man disappears into the night, the door closes with a click, and for the first time in months, you're finally alone with the man. You don't miss the breath that escapes him, in fact, you grow cold at the sound as his hand leaves your shoulder.

'Si'—'

'Need to get you cleaned up,' he abruptly says, 'we can talk about everything once I know you're okay, yeah? You need to get cleaned up before anything, c'mon.'

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you fight against the urge to defy his request. Though, recalling the grey bags under his eyes, you find you're raising from where you're sitting. As he said, you can talk about it later, and for now, you find yourself thankful that he simply wants to enjoy your company.

＊*•̩̩͙✩���̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

'I'm sorry,' you whisper as soon as your head hits the pillow. Oddly, as you watch the man move in the moonlight, it's difficult to even process the fact that you have been gone for so long.

Your hair is slightly damp your bath, and while the wound on your face feels as though it has its own heartbeat, the dressing covering it keeps it from weeping freely.

'I just didn't know what to do, and- and I was so angry with myself and I didn't trust—'

'Your hand was forced, love,' Simon utters, laying on is side to look at you. 'I just wish you would have woke me up or left me a note- something to let me know that you were okay.'

Your heart drops at the thought of the months of misery he has suffered through by your hand.

Even though to you it seemed necessary, you know better than to impose your own views onto the man who was left wandering where you had disappeared off to for months on end.

Your absence was necessary yet cruel.

'I know, I know I should have and I'm sorry for not saying something to you,' you respond, reaching your hand out to grab his much larger one. He grabs your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours with a sigh. 'I wish I never left.'

'You did what you thought was right in the moment an' I'd be a prick for telling you you were in the wrong for doin' it,' mumbles the man, 'y' had to figure stuff out. All that matters now is that you're back.'

'I won't be goin' anywhere anytime soon if you're planning on staying with me,' you say, 'could kick me to the streets for everything I've put you through; I wouldn't blame you for doing it.'

'Wouldn't ever dream about it, sweetheart,' he says.

You watch as he scoffs before moving towards you, letting go of your hand to grasp your waist, pulling you towards him.

Shuffling closer, you smile as you press your lips against you, a flurry of butterflies swirling in your stomach a you feel his hand on your waist tighten.

All the months of pain melt in the matter of moments as the pair of you hold each other. It's as though the pair of you have been apart for multiple lives, plagued with the memory of each other, until eventually meeting again in this life.

Tears pool in your eyes, your hand pressing against the side of his face, snaking around to tug at his hair as he bites down on your bottom lip.

A muffled moan escapes you, trailing off into a whine when he pulls away from you. A trail of saliva keeps the pair of you connected as your eyes flicker from his mouth back to his eyes.

'I've missed you so much,' you confess, blinking back the tears as he smiles at you. 'So fucking much- there hasn't been a day I haven't thought about you.'

His hand against your waist loosens as he moves his hand under the white shirt he dressed you in, moving between your thighs.

'Missed you too,' he confesses, his index finger brushing over your clothes cunt with a sigh. 'Wanna show you how much I've missed you,' he utters, pressing the tip of his finger into against your clit.

You comply with a kiss, a small giggle escaping you as he pulls you on top of him. Hands sliding down your waist, you begin to undress, all for one of his hands to catch your wrist. 'Keep it on, sweetheart,' he rasps, 'like seein' you in my clothes.'

Colour rushes to your cheeks as you nod your head, hands gripping the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down.

There's no need for anything, the desire to feel him inside you after so many months obscuring any other sense of yours.

You need him and he needs you.

Tugging down his underwear, goosebumps form on your skin when you hear him grunt as you pull them further down his thighs, freeing his cock from his boxers. You sit for a moment, jumping when you feel his hands squeeze your hips.

'Spit in your hand, love,' he instructs.

You feel his eyes on you as you scrunch your nose up at the request.

'What?'

'Listen to me and I'll help you, yeah?' he asks, 'now spit in your hand.'

Your entire face is warm as you hold your hand out in front of your, spitting into it. 'Good girl,' he breaths, 'now wrap your hand around my cock.'

Listening to him, you reach out, wrapping your hand around him. He hisses as you do so, and you pause upon seeing his reaction, fearful that you've done something wrong. 'That's right,' he utters, as precum pools at the top of your fist as you feel him twitch in your hold, 'no more your hand up and down f'r me, love, get me ready for that pretty little cunt of yours.'

A sinful sound emits as you begin to move your hand up and down his cock, your slick hand moving up and down with ease. You feel his thighs tense below you as you move a hand between your legs, your mouth turning dry from the wetness pooling in your underwear.

'That's desperate, princess?' Simon grunts with a smile on his face. You feel the urge to wipe it off of his face, though, you nod your head in agreement, knowing better than to deny something you so desperately want. 'Pull your panties to the side,' he instructs, 'not touchin' that pussy of yours; you're gonna come from my cock an' nothin' else,' he gruffly says.

Letting go of his cock, you do at he asks of you, a small yelp escaping you as he pulls your forward, his cock pressing against you folds as he sighs.

There's a temperament, a desire lingering to keep you on top, though, as he looks at you with your swollen lips and red face, he relents, moving you so you're lying on your bak with him over you.

'Got plenty of time for all that,' he utters, pressing his tip against your hole.

You clench around nothing, shifting beneath him as he presses his lips against yours.

It's different from the last time, you see something different in his eyes as he pushes into you, the delightful sting from many moons ago returning. Arching your back off of the bed, your whimper against his mouth.

'That's it,' he whispers, 'oh fuck.'

Your legs tighten around his waist, a few stray tears escaping from your eyes. It's a mixture of pain, pleasure, and joy. To be back in his arms after so much time a part is a gift in itself, for him to want you back is another. Your mind is racing as you sniffle, pressing another kiss against his mouth.

'Y' okay, yeah, princess? So good f'r me,' he grunts, slowly pulling out of you. More tears fall down your face as you nod your head, your eyes screwed shut as he thrusts back into you. Clicking his tongue, he pushes into you with another grunt, 'eyes on me, sweet girl,' he huffs, 'haven't waited months for you and your pretty little cunt for you to not look at me, have I?'

You open your eyes.

'That's it, there's my pretty girl.'

You clench around him upon hearing his words, legs trembling as he quickens the pace of his thrusts. The head of his cock presses against your cervix and your arms home to his back, nails digging into the flesh of his back.

'I- I've missed you,' you choke out, unable to account for any other emotion as he fucks into you.

You're crying at this point, the tears on the right side of your face soaking into the dressing as he continues to his all the right spots, stretching you out perfectly.

He's ruined you for anyone else, though it doesn't matter; you know you'll never need anyone else when you have him.

'Missed you too, love,' he states through clenched to teeth , 'missed waking up to you and seeing you, but you're not gonna go anywhere now, you're mine.'

'I am, I am,' you dumbly cry, 'no one else's, all yours forever and ever.' 'm sorry for ever leaving you.'

Keeping himself steady with one hand, he brings his other hand to grab your forearm, pulling one of your arms away from his back, taking it into his hold. Your legs tighten around his waist as a crude squelch sounds in the room, h

'Fuck,' you gasp, your hole tightening around him.

'That’s right, love,' he groans, his lips ghosting over your shoulder, his words were low and sickeningly needy, 'you’re so fucking tight,' he moans, resulting in a hiccuped moan escaping you.

Both of you greedily take whatever pleasure came from your messy movements, sweat dropping down your forehead as you tighten you hold on his hand, writhing below him as he continues to hit the spot which has you seeing stars.

'Gonna make sure I'm always here,' you whisper letting out another breathy moan.

Simon maintains a pleasurable pace, a crude slapping sounding in his bedroom, though neither of you care, and through stinging eyes and aching muscles, you admire him in the light of the moon, taking into account all the flaws on his face, the remnants of mistreatment and burdens, swearing to yourself you will never left another pale scar appear on his body for as long as the pair of you live.

'Not gonna let you leave me now, sweetheart,' he begins, staring down at you, his fringe wet with sweat, stray strands sticking to his forehead. 'Gonna keep you safe, fuck,' he schemes, a subconscious smile forming on your face, listening to him speak. 'Make sure y' never want for anything, only me.'

He growls such words with intent and possessiveness, and in the heat of the moment, you're convinced you need no one but him.

And as the tension in your stomach grows tighter, the brunet hit a spot which almost makes you scream, you drag your hand down his back, leaving lines of red behind as you do so. 'And you'll let me do all of that f'r you,' he chuckles.

'I would,' you whimper, 'fuck, I'm close, please,' you beg, as your thighs begin to tremble, you grip on his hand tightening as you press your head back against the pillow.

'Go on, sweetheart,' he says, 'cum for me.'

He winces slightly as he feels your nails press crescents into his skin, his pace growing messy and sporadic as he chases after his own release.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a brittle sob as an orgasm rips through your body.

'Fuck, that's it, sweetheart' he moans, 'I love you,' he grunts out, pressing into your, your cunt against his pubic bone as his hands tremble.

You barely compute the words passing his lips, and in the daze of your release, you continue to cry as he fucks you despite you being overstimulated, a dark groan escaping from the back of his throat as you feel strings of cum paint your insides.

'I- I love you too, so much,' you sniffle, your head falling against the pillow in exhaustion, finding joy in his hold of you and the pleasure which has washed over your body, rendering all your sense his.

Little worries find you in the aftermath, the pair of you much too tired to discuss what can wait for you in the morning, and the only thing that matters to you in the wake of your orgasm is his body being pressed against yours as you slowly drift off knowing that, even if it is just for tonight, you're secure in his hold.

Here, you find a single moment is comparable to an eternity of touches.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the morning, you find yourself sitting outside of the bakery with the ugly green dress you grew to despise during your first time out of the shore, and as you sit beside Simon tugging at the skirt, you startle when he firmly tugs it down, placing his hand down on your thigh, over the skirt to keep in place.

He does so without even turning his attention to you, and even when you turn to offer him a brief look, he doesn't move, keeping his eyes trained on Johnny as he sips from his mug of tea.

'Kyle said he saw another one,' says the man with the mohawk, 'seems they're waiting near the shore for something to happen, or, they're planning on making their move a lot soon than we thought.'

Your face aches as you chew, gulping your pastry down before speaking. 'They wouldn't act so quickly,' you say, 'they want me to get a taste of this before they take it away; when Raithe is angry, she's unforgiving.'

'That's the lass I saw on the beach, right?' Johnny asks, 'the one with the black hair an' teeth as sharp as daggers.'

'Yeah, she's the one who did this to me,' you say, pointing towards the fingerprints around your neck and the clean dressing stuck to your face. Taking a bite out of your pastry, Simon leans further into the table, keeping his hand pressed firmly against your thigh.

'I've put him on patrol tonight,' he says quietly, 'we'll get him alone, call for them to have him and then that will be the end of it.'

'Y' really think it's gonna be that easy?' Johnny asks, 'they seem pretty pissed, don't think they'd really leave us alone that easily.'

'There's nothing else we can do,' you say, 'unless you wanna go into the water and pull them all out one by one and put a knife through their heads, that is.'

Simon's grip on your thigh tightens.

'Cut their tongue out and throw them back into the water if they try anythin',' he cooly states, 'can't sing then, become nothin' but a fish with claws, hardly a threat. They can suffer for all I care.'

Something stirs in your gut as he says so, and while you feel as though you need to keep the women you devoted your life to, you find yourself torn with the desire of seeing the man being so lethal- of seeing how far he would go to keep you safe.

'Sounds like a plan, Lt,' Johnny responds, 'this stayin' between us?'

'Affirmative,' Simon confirms, 'Gaz an' Price don't need to know about it 'cause it'll only cause more trouble if the Captain finds out about it; he won't let us do it.'

'Then we do it tonight, get rid of him and wipe our hands of him,' you say with a grin, 'about time that son of a bitch got what he deserves.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

In the midst of the night, you travel down the steps of the shore alone keeping your eyes peeled as you tread down the shore towards the sand. Your hands tremble in the breeze as you feet grace the sand, te rolling of the tide whispering for your return.

You stay unmoved by the moon and her red glow as you push forward towards the sea, holding your hand against your face as it aches.

All the smiling proved to be particularly poor for the placement of the mark on your face, though you push through the pain, you lips drawn together as you peer onto the surface of the water.

'I thought you'd return,' a voice calls.

You freeze.

As a wave washes up shore, the webbed hands of a woman appear, dragging her body out of the water. Her claws dig into the surface, her pointed ears twitching upon seeing you.

'You not bring your boyfriend with you?' she pouts, tilting her head to the side, 'would have been nice, y'know, meeting the family and stuff.'

'I'm not here to make small talk,' you sharply respond.

Raithe looks at you, raising her eyebrows as she looks at you.

'Oh?' she laughs, 'then please enlighten me.'

'I'm here to make a deal with you,' you breath, bringing your trembling hands together.

One shot or you've fucked it.

The woman's laughter booms along the sea as she rolls around on the ground, clapping her hands. 'Oh, you wanna make a deal with me now? It's a real shame what's become of you, y'know? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that boyfriend of yours has some explaining to do.'

Her comments cause your blood to boil, yet, you remain calm, looking her in the eyes. 'We have the boy who killed Serelia,' you say, clenching your fists, keeping your arms firmly placed against your side as the woman hums. 'We'll give you him and you can do what you please, forbid me the pleasure of getting to rip him to shreds for what he did to her and leave this village alone.'

'A generous offer you pose my lovely,' Raithe hums, pressing her finger against her plush bottom lip. 'You got anything else to sweeten the deal or is that it?'

'I'll never return to the ocean,' you say. 'I'll stay away, stay here on land. You can do what you please as long as it remains in the ocean and not beyond it; you know nature did not give us such a gift to act in the manner you intend to act concerning the people in this village.'

You step back from the shore, keeping the water from touching your feet.

'How is that fair?' Raithe asks, furrowing her eyebrows. 'You get to stay here and live out your life with the human you have foolishly devoted your life to while we're kept from Serelia because you buried her on land.'

'By staying here you are keeping me from the grave of my mother, Raithe,' you spit, "I know you're upset, but I have been punished enough. I'm giving you what you want- you want to kill the person who killed Serelia, don't you?'

Raithe's grin disappears from her face.

'You've been scheming so long you forget who the true murderer is. If I wanted to kill the person who killed Serelia, I would have slit your fucking throat,' she snaps, 'a human dealt the final blow but you are just as guilty for permitting it.'

'I was looking for her,' you blurt.

'If you were so committed to finding her, she would be here beside me right now, but she isn't; she's buried on the land, away from her home.'

'Simon helped me bury her on the clifftop!' you yell, chest raising and falling rapidly. 'She overlooking our home and it was him who came up with the idea in the first place- there are good humans—'

'Simon,' she repeats, 'slips off the tongue that name does.'

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you look at the wicked woman in the water. Her mocking grin renders you small, fragile, and you realise your mistake in mentioning the name of the man.

'I must see the man you speak of, see if he's a good match for you or if you could do better. Perhaps he would be a good friend for the water, hm?' she teased, bowing her head as another chuckle escapes her.

The crunch of sand alerts the pair of you, and as you look over your shoulder, you catch both Simon and Johnny walking along the shore, Rhys in the middle of them as he fights against their hold with his hands tied in front of him.

A delighted squeal escapes the woman lying in the sand as she catches sight of the tall man in the skull mask. 'Oh, I've seen you!' she exclaims, 'sitting on the beach a lot, hey? One might say you belong in the water with the amount of time you've spent here.'

'Shut it,' you snap, turning your attention to the three men standing behind you.

When your eyes meet with Rhys' you find you heart urges you to disobey the terms of your own deal, ripping him from the arms of the men, all to have the satisfaction of watching him crying and fight as he drowns in an inch of water.

Yet, even that isn't fitting for him.

His cries are muffled behind the gag in his mouth and Johnny does you the favour of pulling it out of his mouth. As he opens his mouth, he looks at you with wide eyes. 'I- I fuckin' knew it!" he exclaims, 'I knew I wasn't dreaming when I saw you run into the sea that night.'

'You killed Serelia,' you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

'Didn't think it was that difficult to figure out,' he says, 'no one else knew where she was... well, not until you had your screaming and crying fit outside the cabin; that was a—'

He's stopped as Simon shoves him to the ground. He lands with a thud, all the air escaping his lung as he moans out in pain. Placing his boot on top of the mans head, his face is pressed into the wet sand as he turns to address the woman in the water.

'We got y' the one you want,' he sharply says, 'you take him and you leave.'

'Or?' the woman asks,.

'I cut your tongue out and feed it to the dogs in the village,' he snaps.

Rhys' cries are muffled as Raithe looks Simon in the eyes. Your eye twitches at the prolonged silence, though, when she whistles you find your nerves escaping you.

'A few months ago, you would have had his head for speaking to one of your own like that,' Raithe sneers looking at you, 'but love has your mind warped, my sweet urchin, yes it does,' she scoffs, her eyes narrowing as she turns her attention down towards the water. 'You have yourself a deal, Simon,' she says with a smile.

Relieving his boot from the head of the sobbing man on the ground, Rhys picks his head up, fat tears rolling down his face as he writhes on the ground, attempting to push himself up off of the ground. 'P- Please, I'm sorry,' he sobs, snot trailing down his upper lip as more heads appear from out of the water.

You're far from envious of his position when his shoulders are grabbed. Though, you long to be in the water for what is about to happen.

His screams are hoarse and rough as he's ripped from his home, and as you walk back to stand beside Johnny and Simon. Rhys claws and fights to stay on land as Raithe pulls him further and further towards the water.

Other webbed hands appear and the shrill shriek the man lets out is cut off by a hand covering his mouth as he's dragged into the water.

Upon his disappearance, you allow a breath to escape your mouth as you lean against Simon, rubbing your tired eyes. For months you have dreamt of this very moment, the moment the man who caused so much trouble is finally met with the punishment he deserves, and when his hand breaks the surface of the water again, you grin at the sight of the sea turning red, chunks of his clothing surfacing.

As savage as sharks are the sirens.

'It's done,' you mumble, turning away from the scene.

Simon looks down at you, 'you wanna go home?' he asks.

You nod your head, as the three of you begin to walk up the beach, your blood running cold as a familiar cackle catches your attention, though, you do not turn to address the woman. Instead, you catch Simon's hand in yours pushing further up the beach as Raithe calls out to the three of you.

'Lovely meeting ya, Simon! Hope to see you again some other time!'

His hold on your hand tightens just as it had done during the night before as you walk away from the sea with him by your side, never intending to let go of him ever again.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It's as though you never left him, and every waking moment you spend with him is a blessing. How a human can be a home is a strange concept to you, though, its an oddity that you're fond of.

'Are you gonna eat your dinner or are you going to keep staring at me, sweetheart?' asks the man with a laugh.

Dropping your head, you look down at the plate of food you helped him prepare, your cheeks flushing with colour.

The wound left by your absence is but a wilting scab at this point, the skin beneath unmarked by the actions of your past for the pair of you have an understanding of you where your loyalties lie, and as you pick your head back up to look at him, you understand that your loyalties lie with one another.

'I don't know,' you mumble, 'difficult to take my eyes off of you.'

He grunts at your words, picking his fork up from the side of his plate. 'Your foods going to get cold,' he warns.

You pick your fork up, rolling your eyes, 'you're no fun.'

He lets out a short laugh, 'of course not, love. Got a job to stick to after all.'

'Not while you're with me you don't,' you say.

'Once a siren, always a siren,' he comments.

Setting your fork down, you grab a boiled potato off of your plate, throwing it at him. Unfortunately, he's aware of your plot and manages to duck of of the way before it hits him.

A small laugh escapes you as you're quick to push your chair out, raising to your feet as he does the same. A squeal escapes you are you rush out of the kitchen into the living room with him hot on your trail.

Sprinting up the steps to his bedroom, you shriek as he grabs you and pulls you against his chest. 'Let me gooooo,' you whine, writhing in his hold, 'it was an accident, it slipped out of my hand I was literally about to eat it!'

You land on the bed with a thud, continuing to laugh as he looms over you, his forehead pressed against yours as you look up at him with a bright smile on your face.

'You've got to believe me.'

'You picked it up and you threw it at me,' he answers back, 'I know y' clumsy, sweetheart, but fuck me, are you really that bad?' he asks, pressing his forehead against yours.

Bringing your hands up, you hold either side of his face, looking into his eyes with a sigh. 'I love you,' you say, abandoning the joke the pair of you were tangled in. His stoic expression shatters as he smiles down at you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

'I love you too,' he utters, before placing his lips back on yours.

In the safety of his arms and his home, you live in high spirits as you know, even when the four walls and the roof are not there to shelter you from a storm, the man with his lips against yours and a hand under your skirt will always be there for you whenever you need him.

Selfishly, you hope he's there forever and ever all for you and only you as you cherish every single part of him.

The regrets from your actions in the past remain on you in the form of the scar on your cheek, though, he sees you no different as he watches your naked body dripping with sweat in the confines of your bedroom, even when you're simply sitting in the library reading a book.

All the time his eyes are on you as though you're the only girl in the world and in return, he knows that you're eyes remain on him and only him.

'You're gonna be the death of me,' he breathes, as you shift, feeling his fingers pressed against your hole.

A smirk appears on your lips.

'Only if it's by your hand I die and no one else's.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

'Simon.'

In the dead of night he wakes to the faint sound of a whisper.

It's something calling for him, a song which shakes the very vibrations of his home, and as he opens his eyes, he captures you sleeping soundly beside him, though, he doesn't care for you as he pushes himself up and out of bed.

His headaches and he wobbles as he climbs from out of his bed. It's as though his body is on autopilot, permitting whatever strange force is pushing him to proceed with his usual routine as he gets up from out of bed.

He walks as though he's a monster, devoid of all consciousness, his limps sluggish and flimsy as he pulls on his clothes for work. You don't move and inwardly, he's unsure why he's doing so; the moon is out, full and round as she peers through the open window, and he knows it's still going to be a while before he has to leave for work.

Still, the urge pushes him to get ready for the day, and he reaches for the skull mask settled against the table near the window of his bedroom, tying it around his head.

You remain sleeping in bed as he moves downstairs, determined to find the noise which causes his head to pound. It feels as though someone is pressing their fingers into his head all to see which part of the brain bleeds the most.

The answer is all of it, though the voice continues to pick away at his skull with such persistence he's rendered aggravated as he walks through the door.

His entire body is on fire as he treads the streets he was walked so many times, though his feet drag against the roads of the silent village, arms firmly pressed against his sides as he presses on with tired eyes and a dry mouth.

The voice changes its tune, no longer calling his name, istead, speaking words.

'Foolish mortal men.'

In a conscious state he would be questioning the words addressed to him in such a manner, he would be questioning why he walks with the intent of making it to the water, and he would be returning back to his home with an ache in his chest for ever thinking of leaving you alone.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he drags his feet with determination coursing through his veins.

To the ocean he must go; the voice is calling him and he cannot fight against the words bouncing off of the streets of the village.

'Sinking into the watery depths of the...'

It grows tired as he edges closer to the water, the crashing of the water flooding his ears, coaxing his burning mind with a brief cure. t's not enough, however, his mouth is dry and his tongue burns, eyes longing for the fiery thirst to subside.

His entire body feels as though it's on fire, and the sea stares back at him, water washing up the shore as the arms of a human would when offering a friend a hug.

Something else is staring too.

'Sirens den.'

The voice is oh so soft, almost a whisper as he makes it onto the beach. The village seems so puny in comparison to the greatness of the vast ocean and he wonders why he ever bothered living on land when the ocean i right her at his fingertips.

Shrugging his cloak from off of his shoulders, he releases himself from the burden of the confines of that stupid cloak, the balaclava from around his mouth falling to the ground after.

It all feels so freeing, to fall under the command of the great sea, to see the beauty in the very thing he has despised for so long. Such an outlook is a blessing, he finds.

It's necessary. It's constant.

He is nothing in comparison of the ocean and her greatness.

No one is anything but flesh and bone existing in one place at one time while she is there, her arms wrapped around the entirety of the planet.

How foolish he has been.

'For a woman in the sea,'

He thinks of you and all you have done for him, how you have freed him, though he finds you and your existence pale in existence of te water which invites him in with open arms.

At first, you were difficult to deal with, untrusting.

But she isn't, she guides him and she's leading him to safety- to the place he belongs. Such a blessing she presents him with and everything you have done for him is nothing as she cools his burning flesh.

It's better than any orgasm he has reached while in bed with you, so inviting that he proceeds to walk into the water deeper. Nothing is enough, her presence is too little. He needs more of her to settle the dull ache in his head and he wades through the water with the intent of finding such.

'is never just a friend.'

The tune stops.

Suddenly, the sea is no longer in his favour and he's turned away with a cold rush of water covering him.

A sharp gasp escapes him as he looks around him, the water up to his waist, waves crashing against his bulky frame as he looks around with stinging eyes. His blood runs cold as he turns his attention back to the village. Then his eyes fall back onto the water.

He knows better than to trust the situation, wasting no time to turn away from the distant abyss of the water, pushing himself through the water all to make it back to land.

To make it back to you.

The depth of the water is relieved, sinking from his waist to mid thigh.

A grunt escapes him as a surge of agony hits him with the fierce intent of keeping him from getting home and he lands with a splash into the water as razor sharp nails are pulled from out of his his thigh.

'Unfaithful scum,' utters a voice as hands from all angles poke from out the water, grabbing him as he attempts to fight his way from out of their hold.

They're merciless as the hold him and keep him to the water while his heart and mind long to be back in bed beside you. He fights and fights, though in his drowsy state he's far too out of it to do anything.

'She's better off without you, Simon.'

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ☾ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You awake in bed alone, a banging at the door ruining your brain. However, you don't let it distract you as you spend a moment looking at the empty spot in the bed with a frown.

It's miserable to wake without him in the morning as you have grown fond of spending time with him, lying in bed, drawing patterns on his bare chest, listening to his many stories, or simply just basking in the heat of him.

The bed is cold without him and you shiver as you push yourself up, scoffing at the manic knocks against the door. It's persistent, nearly urgent. You pick up the pace, wrapping Simon's shirt around you as you rush down the stairs to the front door.

Grabbing the handle you pull it open, 'about fuckin' time, Si', you're—'

'What?' you blurt out, looking at Johnny and Gaz standing at the door, 'he's at the station, isn't he?'

The pair of them look at each other before looking at you.

'Nae, lass,' Johnny says, his mouth falling as he looks at you. 'We've been looking for him.'

Your blood runs cold.

He's probably with the Lord or something, it wouldn't be the first time he's be asked for a favour by him.

'Where have you checked?' you ask, quickly slipping on your sandals.

'We've been up and down all the streets to his usual spots, we've even checked the Lords house and he hasn't seen him either... this isn't like him,' Kyle explains, 'he's committed to his job, he wouldn't just not show up and—'

'Have you checked the beach?' you blurt.

Both of them shake their heads and with that, you're running out of the house, rushing to towards the beach.

A wave of panic washes over you, and as you rush down the main street of the village with teary eyes, you feel as though you're rushing to Serelia all over again, only, this time, Simon isn't behind you to comfort you.

People blurt out curses as you push yourself through the crowds, bounding towards the beach just as you did when you returned all those months ago.

Your chest burns by the time you make it to the steps, and as you run down, you stop at the sight of a black mound on the shore. Gulping thickly, you rush towards the pile of fabric, reaching down to retrieve it with a trembling hand.

It's his cloak.

Tearing your eyes away from it, you look down the rest of the beach, dropping the fabric as you follow a scattered trail of belongings. You pass by his balaclava which has been covered in sand.

The wind beats against you, pushing your hair back as you fight for your breath. There are pieces of him covering the beach, just as Serelia's scales covered the floor in the room of that dingy little cabin.

All hope is crushed as, right beside the water you spy a small chunk of bone sitting in the sand. You don't wait as you rush towards the water, spying the shape of his skull mask sitting right before the mercy of the water.

It's as though you're in a nightmare you cannot wake from.

You can't breathe.

As the realisation hits you and the skull mask sitting on the shore stares back at you, you fall to your knees, your wide as you look out at the murky sea, falling onto your stomach at your fingertips ghost the skull sitting against the shore.

A jagged breath escapes you as you pull your hand away, unable to catch your breath as you fall backwards onto you bottom, hands pressed against the sand. Rushed steps appear behind you, though you don't budge, nor do you flinch as a firm hand is placed on your shoulder.

Johnny appears in front of you, his mouths muffled as a tear slips from your twitching eye, staring out into the water all to see Raithe staring at you in the distance, a wicked from forming on her face as she pulls a skull mask from out of the water, holding it up by the silk string he used to tie it around his head with.

Your eyes fall back to the skull sitting on the surface, you breathing quickening at you turn your head to the side, heaving as a cold numbness floods your sense. Your tremble as you force out a sob, your throat tightening.

The skull meters away from you is not his mask.

It's him.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old @phantomreadsandreblogs @iizx7y

#call of duty #cod #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #mw2 #cod mw2 #cod au #task force 141 #cod mwii #ghost simon riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #ghost x reader angst #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #simon ghost riley x reader #siren au #alternate universe #manicrouge

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

“you just can't handle toxic queer ships or morally grey queer characters, you want queer representation to be perfect and unrealistic.”

no, actually. one fictional ship that i really like is rose quartz/pink diamond x pearl from steven universe. yes, it's toxic but it's also interesting. and most importantly, it is not romanticized.

it definitely seems romanticized at first, because we were hearing the whole story from pearl's perspective, who was hopelessly devoted to rose. as the plot progresses, we see how unhealthy their relationship was and how much pearl's self-worth depended on what rose thought about her. how much she was willing to sacrifice for rose.

this is a toxic relationship that was written well, in my opinion. apart from pearl's unhealthy behaviour, rose being pearl's master also added a layer of toxicity and power imbalance. and none of this is romanticized. we aren't led to believe that these two characters should have gotten together.

and in time, pearl learns more about what kind of a person rose was and she begins to work on being independent and learning to love herself. by the end of the series, we know all too well that this ship was toxic, despite being complex and layered.

similarly, i talked about malachite or jasper x lapis in another post too. this was another toxic/abusive ship that was done quite well (minus a few hiccups) and was not romanticized or justified in any way.

rose quartz is also an example of a morally grey and problematic character whose actions were not justified by the narrative. she grew up in an abusive family, just like catra. she had her trauma and tragic backstory too. but her actions were still framed as being wrong and the writers don't try to woobify or coddle her.

(there were other examples of problematic characters in SU who got off scot-free like catra did, i'm not denying that at all btw, i'm mad about it too.)

so yeah. we don't hate representation of toxic ships or characters, we just dislike it when toxicity and unhealthy behaviour is promoted in a kids show.

#spop critical #spop salt #spop criticism #spop discourse #spop #she ra #anti spop #anti catra #anti catradora #anti c//a #antic//a #anticatra #anticatradora #tw abuse #tw toxic relationship

[all-things-jily]

Ok but we get harassed for tagging ships that are in the post too just because there’s other ones mentioned

The fandom is supposed to be fun! You guys support harassment and bullying over fiction! The problem that needs addressing is the people who harass not the people who tag! There’s a way to get people not to tag btw it’s tell them nicely! Not act horribly! Jily fans been sending jegulus writers hate & writing “if you wrote jily maybe you’d get treated better” the problem lies with the way jily fans act & people will start biting back because people can only take so much.

OK so I was looking at this for some minutes, truly dumbfounded. Because it's like no matter what we say we're not being heard.

Rant below for those who want to avoid it lol

"You guys support harassment and bullying over fiction!"

I'm ?????? Where in the world have either of us who have spoken up done that? When have we ever said anything other than "tag your posts properly"? Don't these two sentences have completely different meaning? Who are these people that are harassing? Because harassment is never ok and we have not encouraged that. But if you think that simply telling a person who used incorrect tags to remove the extra ones is harassment, I'll have to tell you that no, it is not, it is a very normal thing to do actually.

Yesterday there were a few posts about asking people to tag properly and in response we got that "Jily fans are horrible and inhumane, they harass and bully, they're the worst people ever" and actually got harassed in response. Do you think there's anything normal and fitting in what happened and in that reaction?

"Jily fans been sending jegulus writers hate & writing “if you wrote jily maybe you’d get treated better” this is actually wild because NONE OF US in our community have done that or WANT that, we want to stay as far away from all of that as possible. If you have some anon trolls going around in the community, that has nothing to do with us, most of us are grown people who have been fans since books came out and ain't nobody got time for that, I'm sure most of us don't even know who your writers are or their accounts. In fact, you can tell just by wording of that message that it's clearly a troublemaking troll and not a serious fan, no normal human talks like that.

As for fandom being fun, YES, it's supposed to be fun! But this is where my words about it not being a group project come in, because what's fun for you is not fun for us! In fact, it's the opposite of fun, we dislike it immensely, it upsets us and puts us in a bad mood and it doesn't even belong in our tag. So why should we be upset every single day, going into our tag that's supposed to be a place of comfort and fun, seeing things that are not supposed to be there, when people can simply --- tag properly according to Tumblr guidelines? And this is not new, we've been put through this for years now, and we've been asking politely over and over and over and nobody is listening, and now that we've gotten louder - in our own tag - suddenly we're the bad guys and harassers. When should it be enough? So this part of the ask "people will start biting back because people can only take so much" was incredibly ironic, because we've been taking it for YEARS and now we aren't even biting back, we're simply asking to tag and posting silly memes in our own space but are still getting vilified.

I will also address the first point because I think it causes a lot of general confusion about tagging:

"tagging ships that are in the post too just because there’s other ones mentioned"

A ship tag is for posts that have positive mentions of that ship. If a post mentions multiple ships and is "X is great, Y is good, Jily is bad, I don't like it anymore" - this is not for Jily tag; If a post has "Jily were together for 2 minutes, broke up and then *insert 3 paragraphs gushing over another ship that were true loves*" - this is not for Jily tag; If a post has a poly ship that includes James and Lily - this is another ship, not Jily; If a post is a huge fanfic dedicated to another ship with James or Lily and then has the last sentence about Jily basically settling together - this is not for Jily tag, though I see how there could be arguments about it; There are many other instances too that I can't think of right away at this moment, but basically there's nuance here and just because Jily is brought up in a post doesn't make a post about Jily and the tag is for people who love the ship and want to celebrate their love, and the last thing they want to see there is completely unrelated posts with random Jily cameo in them that do not even portray them in a good way. This last topic is a bit of a complicated one with slippery edges, but I hope it was still comprehensible.

#imagine how tired we are

[lookinghalfacorpse]

You don't have to respond to this one, but @ your last tags on the found family trope post, I can't say I haven't been curious if anything like that was ever the case. You've been so careful in painting everyone's relationship to be on trust and healthy reliance on one another in times of need, and Techno + Dream definitely have something more intimate and close going on (which I deeply appreciate btw- I couldn't bear it if someone tried to stick itwall!Dream as a brother to Techno, or put him in alongside Wilbur as a son figure to Phil :shudders:), so I'm VERY curious how detailed those thoughts have gotten at any point in time /lh /but genuine

(talking about my semi-cursed tags on this post)

yes i can talk about this all day !! i think the dynamic that doomsday trio brings is fascinating, and i don't blame those who see it as a nuclear family dynamic because i think the comparison does work in some places, but it's more complicated than that. i touched on it (in vaguely poetic terms) in this post, but i can give more detail here.

c!philza is an old man and an experienced father, and his instinct as a guardian is strong. this is the closest we get to a nuclear family format in itwall; phil definitely calls on some of his skills as a father when he helps dream, but it's a bit more complex than that. phil recognizes that dream is an adult in human years and doesn't need to be babied (hell, he doesn't even baby Wilbur, his own son who's around the same age!). dream needs care, he needs a mentor, and he needs a better self-preservation instinct before he kills himself. i think their relationship is closer to ancient grecian mentorship than fatherhood/sonhood, the only difference is that the mentee is on death's door for a while and needs some extra attention. phil sees himself in dream, dream sees phil as someone he might like to be, and there's a level of mutual respect there.

i also think that techno and dream have a sense of brotherhood, but in the same way that two athletic teammates have a brotherhood. they have a long history of trust between them, with room for playfulness and teasing. there's a lack of touch aversion (which is HUGE for dream), and dream initiates more of their touches (as opposed to phil, where he tends to be more submissive) (i'm thinkin about ch 12 & ch 19).

and, of course, techno & phil have a complicated relationship of their own. i'm always annoyed by headcanons that techno is phil's son-- we see plenty of interactions where they mutually worry over each other and care for each other. the will is Not written like a boy talking to his father. these two are lifelong partners, and that letter is written to someone who techno knows will understand him and trusts to carry out the more sentimental, intangible tasks, like talking to niki and ranboo, with very little instruction.

highly oversimplified but this is the idea. Techno and dream have similar relationships with phil but it's not really sonhood. all built on trust. they've proven to each other that they will keep each other safe.

and honestly.. none of those relationships would have to exclude sex or intimacy. equals/partners can have sex. comrades can have sex. mentors/mentees can have sex (i think people feel weird about this one, but again: think Ancient Grecian). i have Quite A Few scenes in my head about how their sexual relationships might work (especially in the early days when dream isn't feeling good...). i guess in light of everyone being more open about shipping i would consider writing them, i'd just keep them here instead of ao3.

i think both phil and techno consider dream to be heartstoppingly lovely. i think dream would love to be loved. i think phil&techno and techno&dream may have had some encounters Before the start of itwall, so it would just be a matter of tying it all together.

#asks #itwall #sorry i'm writing essays these days i'm just thinkin a lotta thoughts #affections

[achaotichuman]

Random Ramble

I think it is hilarious how some people are so aggressive about sticking so thoroughly to canon, and not allowing for any room for imagination, because like, my brother in christ, canon does not exist.

None of these are real, the characters are not real, the story is not real. There is no such thing as canon.

There is only such thing as the op. The one who originally made the story and the characters, which is why we have copyright. So that no one can *make money off of these characters and the story*

But so long as you aren't plagiarizing the story in order to make your own money off of it. Once these characters are published and, in the world, everyone has free reign with them.

Once they are in your head, they are your characters. Which is why people interrupt their actions differently. Because the characters will appear different in your head compared to anyone else, including the author.

Idk the origins of the term canon, nor have I done any research on the topic (I'm just rambling) but tbh in my eyes it appears like we as a society have allowed money to ingrain itself so deeply into us as people, that we allow to dictate what we think. And this goes for the idea of canon.

Because the actual author is one making money off the books (rightfully so) it has become a sort of, is their way or the highway (this is just a half-thought through theory btw don't take it too seriously)

Which is why I personally love to take said characters and do whatever the fuck I want with them. Because whatever I make them do is in character for me, and even if it isn't, it might be for someone else. Because while they are in my hands, they are my characters.

Consider this a freedom post. You are free to think whatever the fuck you want, none of these people are real. Make Elain a villain, give Kosechi a love interest, make Feyre and Tamlin get back together after she divorces Rhysand. It doesn't matter what the og author thinks, so long as you aren't making money off these characters, you can do whatever the hell you want with them.

And I don't mean make theories crack, I mean you are allowed to genuinely believe this is the best course of action, even if you know the og author won't take it that way.

Cause personally, I do think Tamcien is a plausible ship, and I hope it happens in canon. Do I think it will? No, but Tamlin and Lucien are my characters when they are in my head, so I am allowed to think whatever the fuck I want about them. And same goes for people who disagree with me.

Like some people want Lucien to take over the world, I do not. Some people want Tamlin to die, I do not. Some people want a myriad of things that I do not, and both of those ideas are in character, so long as they are in your head.

Make elriel your canon, make elucien your canon. Fuck it, make Rhysand/Beron your canon.

The only person judging you in the voice in your head, and people on the internet and who gives two fucks what they think. Get as weird as you want, it's all canon, cause none of this is real.

#this came from the depths of my soul #as an avid fan of crack ships and crack theories they are my canon #oh but that just means FANON #no #canon #cause none of this is real #the og author gets their hard earned money #and i get to sit here and make stupid stories about imaginary people #its all canon #its just that one person gets the money from it #acotar #acotar headcanons #acotar au #no one take this too seriously i suddenly started ranting

[newtdrawz]

Outsider HC's but they're mainly about Ponyboy,, cuz he is my fav,,

Most of these are just Pony interacting with the gang and his brothers 😭 are they gonna be OOC? Probably. Do I care? No. Am I right abt all of these? Yes. (No.)

ALSO alot of them are post-main story/mention Dally and Johnny's death a lot cuz I am unable to let my favs be happy 🫶 (! None of these are ships btw,, they're all platonic and stuff lol)

Anyways,,

Ponyboy & Johnny

Johnny and Pony regularly have conversations quietly around the gang, most of the time they have a whole conversation with just a couple looks and jerks of their head. They both seem to get what they're saying while the rest of the gang is completely lost on what they're saying/talking about.

Pony is the only one who calls Johnny, J as a nickname.

"We're not scared because monsters don't live here." Was a sentence said many, many time in the abandoned church.

Pony and Johnny can lie pretty well, but when they have to lie together they suck.

Ponyboy & Dally (ft. Johnny)

After Johnny and Dally died Pony stopped drawing and reading or writing for awhile. He picked it up again and his sketchbook is full of doodles and sketches of Johnny and Dally.

Dally has a soft spot for only Johnny and Pony. It takes a lot for him to get soft with the rest of the gang. He's still mean and tough but more just teasing with Johnny and Pony.

Before the fire Pony would read out loud all the time while Johnny would just sit and listen, sometimes Dally would listen too but interrupt with questions and criticizing the characters. Now that they're both gone, Pony will sometimes read out loud on his own, pretending that both Johnny and Dally are there listening.

Dally is very supportive of Ponys hobby in art. He's usually the one who catches him sketching or painting and just watches until Pony is either finished or notices he's being watched. Dally always nods in greeting and says "keep it up, kid." Or "nice job, kid." But Dally will brag to his other buddies that aren't the gang about how talented the kid is. ("Nah man, the kid draws from memory. He drew this one picture of his big brother, yeah the big big one, looked exactly like him. Like a photograph almost. Kids real talented.")

Ponyboy & Steve

Steve says he can't stand Pony and is mean to him, but Steve is very high on the list of people who care about Pony. He's the most frantic (mostly angry) one next to Soda when Pony got jumped. He secretly cares about him a whole lot, like he's his own brother.

Steve will give Pony rides to places or offer rides time to time. (He only does it if Pony's gone awhile without annoying him lol)

Steve (and Soda, but surprisingly it was Steve's idea) took Pony to his first drag race. He definitely should have not been there.

Ponyboy & Two-bit

Two-bit and Steve started sitting in and listening to Pony read, they're not Johnny and Dally but Pony appreciates it nonetheless.

Two-bit was actually so obsessed with toddler Ponyboy, he always insisted on bringing him with the gang and letting him in on games, he always wanted a little brother. He loved how easy Pony was to entertain and make laugh.

Two-bit was the only one who didn't think twice about Pony and Soda's names.

Two-bit sometimes steals art supplies for Pony.

Ponyboy & Sodapop

When Pony would visit the DX Soda would walk him through fixing a car and even let him help out on small stuff. Even Steve would help too.

He'll leave notes everywhere for Pony and Darry and sometimes the gang. They're either dumb jokes or funny little drawings.

Soda gets very excited when Pony asks him anything abt cars, he'll talk for hours abt them.

Soda was so obsessed with Pony when he was born, all he wanted to do was hold him and hang out with him. He would brag to Darry that he's not the only big brother now lol.

Ponyboy & Darry (I'm so obsessed with their dynamic & their growth)

"Dang it Ponyboy you're giving me gray hairs at 20!" Is a regular sentence said at the Curtis residence.

Darry always tells the other guys to be careful with Pony when they're rough housing. Pony thinks it's cuz he doesn't want them to break anything in the house, Darry just doesn't want Pony to get hurt.

Toddler Pony would follow Darry and Soda/the gang everywhere but mainly Darry. If Darry was doing homework in his room then boom Pony would be in there quietly playing or sleeping on Darry's bed.

Darry regularly cuts Soda, Pony and his own hair. They don't have the privilege of going somewhere to do it so Darry just does it and he does surprisingly well. It's a whole day activity.

The night after Dally and Johnny died Pony had trouble sleeping, even though soda was there. The first person he went to for comfort was Darry. Darry was in the kitchen cleaning, trying to distract himself when Pony walked in. Darry held him in his arms the rest of the night.

On the first father's day without their parents Pony makes a card with a drawing of him and Darry on it and leaves it on the kitchen table for him because he's embarrassed. Darry keeps it forever. (He did get very emotional over it but not infront of anybody. When he got home he hugged Pony, smiled and walked away. Those actions spoke a thousand words between the two and Pony knew he said thanks.)

That's all 🥹 (for now 😦)

I will be doing more of these 🙏 I wanna try to do individual characters cuz ik some here didn't have a lot as well as ALL of these being pony centric and I love them all lol

OH ALSO feel free to add on to these (or ask me about them) or add your own HC's cuz I love outsider headcanons ❤️

Also can you tell I love when Dally and Steve are nice to pony lol? Love it. Love the idea that Steve actually cares abt him and shows it sometimes or Dally caring just as much abt him. THEY ARE ALL A HUGE FAMILY YOUR HONOR 🧑‍⚖️🧑‍⚖️🧑‍⚖️🧑‍⚖️🧑‍⚖️ I'm also so obsessed with Darry and Pony,,, they are so,,, complicated sibling relationships get me everytime

Are some of these good? Probably not. Do they make sense timeline and story wise? No and idc. Am I so normal about them? Yes. Most of these are based of fanfic versions of them anyways so yeah

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders fanfiction #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #curtis brothers #dally winston #johnny cade #two bit mathews #steve randle #headcanon #idk how to tag this #im so normal #about them #found family #for real #love them #feel free to add on #i love talking #just in general #but also about them

[mcytblr-archive]

Early MCYTblr Interviews: tack-tick

today's interviewee is tack-tick, a pioneer of the "phistin" ship and DSMP fan since before the first election! below is a transcript of the interview.

Q: What was your overall time in MCYTblr like?

A: I'd say my overall time in Mcytblr could be described as finding diamonds in the rough. This fandom is defined by finding your group, sticking to them and if you're smart not really looking beyond that. I did look beyond that and saw a lot of discourse and such. I had a good time with my friends but I did get negatively affected by the discourse at times. It was kind of a toxic shithole but by God mcytblr was our shithole lol

Q: Do you remember any specific discourse that affected you, or was it just the overall culture around you?

A: As a Technoblade main, it was the discourse surrounding his character that messed with me. At the time, I was mutuals (none in the phistin palace dw guys) with some people who hated his character. I, as an anxious teenager, was very worried it would cause drama if I unfollowed them and my dash became a lot of those long negative essays about how he was an awful person and yknow the drill. It was mainly my own fault and my dash became signfigantly better once I realized no one would be offended of I unfollowed, blocked a bunch of tags, started up my own discord server and focused more on writing fanfic instead of doomscrolling. A good lesson in curating your dash of anything else. (Btw those former mutuals are fine people, we just had radically different tastes in what we liked and disliked about the Dream SMP)

Q: You mentioned the "phistin palace"-- before we get into that, would you like to explain the "phistin" rarepair itself?

A: Now we are cooking! So, Phistin is the ship of Kristin and Philza. It's main focus was on the scraps of lore that we had about their relationship which was Kristin was the immortal goddess of Death and they couldn't really see each other often but loved each other very much. I'd say it's main appeal was being one of the few ships that was just really stable in the Dream SMP compared to the Karlnapity polycule and whatever youd call Quackbur. Fun fact, I can't find the post now but if i remember correctly me and tumblr user Demonadelem helped name the pair Phistin. Although, that was ages ago so I could be misremebering

Q: Was the ship entirely within the SMP, or was it just the general ship name for the real-life couple?

A: It was both. Since Kristin didn't really stream on the dream smp, a lot of her personality had to be based on what Phil said about her and her other streams. Basically, lore about the ship was pulled from the SMP but the dynamics and personality was from both. You could play around with the dynamic if you focused on Kristin being a goddess

Q: With that basic information laid out-- what was the "phistin palace"?

A: The Phistin Palace was a discord server I founded in August of 2022. Phistin was a ship that was basically a side thing I did in fandom because my main focus was Technoblade and emerald duo stuff. I think if you're a Technoblade fan you're legally obligated to be a Philza fan and vice versa. I don't make the rules. So Phistin was something I did when I wanted a break from Technoblade as a way to practice romantic shipping.

Then Technoblade passed away and I didn't want to do anything with his character for a while so I focused completely on Phistin. However, when I tried to find any fics they were either a background ship with only one line or Kristin was already dead from a tragic disease who's main symptoms were lying daintily in bed. While I was writing my own long form Phistin focused fic, Two Birds if anyone read it, I got a comment that complimented me for "giving her an actual charatcer" and maaaan that is a very low bar to be praised for. So, I started the palace as a way to find other Phistin fans who actually cared about them beyond Kristin being angst fodder for SBI.

Q: Do you have any fond memories in specific of the "Phistin Palace" discord server?

A: Oh so many. During the Syndicate finale, three of us all liveblogged and freaked the fuck out when Kristin showed up for the first time in a minecraft skin on the server. I made on of those AI chatbot things that was popular for a bit and the bot was supposed to be the Kristin character. I asked if she had a pet and she said she has a gecko named Tim. The entire server instantly decided they would die for Tim and he's now an emote. The general chat is also named Tim Time Fucker. A mermaid AU that was made that the majority of the server contributed a lot of lore to we named it the Communist Mermaid AU because the server collectively owns it now. Many good moments there

Q: Beyond the Phistin Palace, are there any large community events that you remember/took part in, or did you mostly stick to your friend group?

A: I remember The Penis SMP of course. I never really took part in large community events but I did watch them happen. I read the Passerine chapter where Tommy died becasue my dash flipped out when that dropped. I'd also try to watch Sad-ist animatics live when I could. At most, Id make a meme during a stream that would rack up a couple hundred notes or one thousand if I was lucky A thousand was like once or twice I think

Q: You mentioned that you were also a Technoblade fan before you became more focused on Phistin-- was your experience in that side of the fandom any different?

A: It certainly had more content than Phistin did lol. I was never really in any Technoblade discords or anything but back in the day it was focused on emerald duo and being funny. or angsty. Nowadays, it's way less lively unfortunately. It's not as bad as in 2022 but Technoblade fancontent seems to be less foucsed on the character and more on memorials/remembrance. At some point, you run out of things to say and not a lot of people wanted to stay in a fandom that just felt weighed down by it all. I did leave so things could perk up someday but I don't think that's likely

Q: We've talked about the fandom and how it responds to content-- let's talk about the content itself. What were some of your favorite moments from the Dream SMP as a whole?

A: The Red Festival Technoblade stream was the first one I ever watched live so that's a good one. The stream where L'manberg getting blown up at the end of The Manberg Arc is iconic for an underrated reason. I don't know how many people remember but Phil was highly speculated to be on the Dream SMP someday. On the day of that stream, he started on his hardcore world, then stopped his stream and did his dramatic switch surprise entrance to enter the Dream SMP for the first time. Also Technoblade escaping the anvil and then killing Quackity with a toothpick was great. I've never liked watching Twitch streams on my Ipad so most of my favorite moments come from YouTube

Q: Were you sad that Phistin wasn't a more popular ship, or did you enjoy the tight-knit community?

A: I was sad Kristin kept friggin dying, the poor woman lol. Sometimes I wish it was a bit more popular but the community was nice. The main issue is Phistin stuff started tanking hard on Ao3 in terms of numbers and tended to get misstagged quite a bit

Q: You've brought up a few times that Kristin was often fridged, disregarded, or replaced (on several notable occasions, by an actual Samsung fridge). How did you feel about it? Do you think there was any particular reason for it?

A: I mean, I really don't like it but I understand it. A lot of people loved that SBI angst but also wanted to write all the SBI. So the obvious solution is to kill off Kristin for free angst and keep all the SBI in the story. Passerine is a fic i respect a lot but it also kickstarted this trend to be honest. Kristin herself also didn't physically show up in the lore a lot so it was really tricky to write her. When I first wrote her, it was intimidating because I didn't have many fics to look at as good examples.

Was it shitty and a bit sexist? Yes but I don't think sexism was the only reason. Kristin's character was in a unique situation compared to the others. I have no problem with Kristin dying in a fic. The main issue is that often came with her personality being reduced to good mom and that's it. I'm not gonna call a bunch of probably first time writers evil sexists when I know what it's like to not know how to write her and being scared you'll get her completely wrong.

Q: Since it's come up, would you mind giving a quick rundown of what exactly the fanfic "Passerine" is? (As well as any memories you have relating to it!)

A: If i'm being honest, I only read the chapter where Tommy got murked. What I know from osmosis is it's an SBI royalty AU that had some kind of meta twist at the end and it was very sad. It also got a sad-ist animatic made out of it which jesus christ I'd give for that. I tried it but the writing style was too wordy for my liking. It's mainly important for Phistin history even though Kristin wasn't in it. No, The Fridge died in it but everyone just kinda assumed it was Kristin for long enough it got the ball rolling. Also I think Niki read it on a stream

Q: Before we wrap up, is there anything else you remember about MCYTblr/the DSMP that you'd like to talk about?

A: The DSMP sure was the minecraft server of all time that is defined as a server that was doomed from the start. Whoever makes a video essay on it is gonna have a hell of a job. 10/10 experience would not recommenced. Hello to the Phistin Palace if any of you read this :D

Mcytblr is getting more chill with shipping from what I've seen. Thank God, keeping making Philza Minecraft kiss those men and his wife.

Also SUBSCRIBE TO TECHNOBLADE

#early mcytblr interviews #Volume 16 #tack-tick

[rusty-gloinks]

MURDER DRONES EPISODE 5 : Random details and favorite parts of this episode

Will be putting major spoilers under cuts if anyone has NOT seen the new episode, or has yet to see it. CW/TW: Blood, body horror, murdery stuff! SPOILERS!! AHHH!!! You get the point. I am not responsible for your actions :3

(This post is a mix of different things btw, Md related tho)

None of this will be in order, and I might need to make a PART TWO!!! Since the total is 45 images. :’)

FIRST UP. I would like to take the time to appreciate doll so have some LOVELY LITTLE images of her I took.

She looks so fucking awesome???? Like holy shit. She slayed!!!!!

not to be fruity .but. yea

SHE. also Isn’t that the campsite? Or just a different location with the same appearance.

OKAY. Next up. BABYGIRL . I SQUEALED AT LIKE EVERY SCENE OF THEM SHES SO FUCKING CUTE. MAN😭

BLEEEEEH (I’m going to make this my icon soonthat was the purpose of the screenshot. Also because I love them)

World is mine by Hatsune mi- cyn. World is mine by cyn. The famous vocaloid /j (HSES 😭😭😭😭)

Noticing how her balance is SOOO Much better while holding someone?. Also MOOD .just like me .real 💔

i lov e you🥺EEEK /p. Shes melting

MY SIB AND I WERE FUCKIJG DYING OVER THE PUPPY EYES.LMAO. I love their humor

J* , and they locked her in the basement. I am so SAD about this information

PROTECTIVE BIG BRO MODE…babys

Okay, listen, i know these 2 got shipped before the release but OUCH this makes things so much weirder!!! eugh:( (mainly saw em as friends.tttotallt not becsuse I project my friendship with my silly mutual onto them.no. /sarc)

anyways forget them being friends as my headcanon. THEYRE FUCKING SIBLINGS EVEN BETTER!!! (prjdedcts me and my elder sib onto th— *gets killed /j*

GAY RIGHTS(After the 2nd watch i realized she was making them kiss each other and I started laughing so hard my sides hurt)

Okay glitch QUIT SHOWING OFF. god damn !!!!! Literally appreciating this scenery so hard. 10000/10. :3

YKNOW HW I WANTED TO SEE TEARS IN THE NEW EPISODE!! LOOK. KIND OF CLOSE!!

LOOK HES SOBBING!!!! ALMOST. I GOT WHAT I WANTED OMFG!!!!! YAYYA!!!! (Love it when ppl cry /j

Lovely little lad. Reading abt dogs:) so cute…

subtle hints of favoritism..👀(she obvs likes J more I think,)

I love how immediately i could tell this was drawn by Liam. Canonically J in the show but like his style is so adorable and bouncy!!!! AND LIKE yummyys:3 eated

Cute detail in Uzi’s room. SHE LIKES BABY COWS GUYS. ITS TIME TO MAKE FANART OF UZI WITH BABY COWS. /J

Blushys:)!

For those wondering what this is it’s basically a ripoff of YouTube. The caption is titled "Top 100 Doors ever!!11!" and then the views at the bottom 😭😭. KHAN AND HIS FUCKING DOORS GOD DAMNIT

This part scared the shit out of me i was literally about to cry. I THIUGHTT SHE KILLED HIM

I had to slow this down and repeat the same clip OVER AND OVER Just to get it right, apparently the solver can swap roles? (The order is supposed to be yellow then purple since Uzi takes over as an admin instead of CYN.) very cool.

STP FIGHTING D:

BOTH VRY SCARY :(

Better glimpse of her backpack. Cute little skullbat zipper!! Also batteries. 👍

Apparently DEAD BATTERIES, aka the logo on Uzi’s sweater could be a possible band? Or reference to a band I don’t know? Like how they have my chemical robots (or something like that) as a ref to the band MCR (romance).

Sigh., N was that you.

Conlang? Fictional language? Glyphs? I’m assuming it’s VERY important (since liam lovessss foreshadowing, i will further elaborate). Hoping there will be ways to "simplify" it to english!

Yknow how in episode 2 Uzi takes braidens sentience or sumn like dat. Yea 💀

Alright I’ve hit the limit, gonna rb again with part 2!!!!! Soon. Maybe

#murder drones #Murder drones spoilers #Spoilers #md spoilers #spoilers md #murder drones spoilers #Md spoiler #Murder drones episode 5 spoilers #Ask to tag #Md ep 5 spoilers #Murder drones ep 5 spoilers

[sunshine-on-marz]

Hey hi! I have thoughts and I don't know how to put them into a fic so here I am.

Okay so imagine you're dating dream and living with dream team and like usually you can put all the rumors aside and kinda laugh about all the dnf stuff because like, you're dating dream (btw none of his fans know about you) . But like what if one day you're getting really down about it, not because you think it's true, but because like it's frustrating, and it manifests and you're being kinda cold and stuff to both dream and George even though like it's not THEIR fault. And dream can tell somethings wrong but you just say "nothing". And then you end up confiding in sapnap because he's kinda feeling the same frustrations because these are his two best friends and people are always talking about it and when there all out people focus on the two of them. And then like maybe dream overhears and comforts you about it? Idk, relationship reveal? Idk what I want from this.

(Also a dnf fan so like)

I’ve been going insane over people on Twitter saying “paranoid” and “kind of love” are about a secret partner bc of exactly this. Like… if it is… that poor partner- (written on august 20th, just incase any updates come out before this posts and I look dumb)

But I’m also a big DNF fan/ Dnn fan so-

Anyways here’s some Dream comfort headcanons!

———

-“oh love..”

-he pulls you into his lap and lets you cuddle into him

-“I love you so much, and only you. You’re so perfect, I’d be stupid to let some internet ship ruin that”

-kisses your temple and cheek and face

- “why don’t we tell everyone about you? Yea? Then we can shut all of this down, we can tell all my fans how much I love you.”

-gets George’s permission and then it’s decided

-y’all make a short video that’s just his saying “this is my partner” and saying he’s uncomfortable with shoo and all that jazz

-then the video ends with a ton of short videos and pictures of you and Dream, or just you, or you and sapnap/ George.

-Dream just wants to show you off

#dsmp #dsmpblr #dsmp x reader #dsmp x gender neutral reader #writing #dreamwastaken #dream x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x you #dreamwastaken x reader

[snellyfish]

Why is Angie your favourite character?

This is really funny I just got off call with Glownary and was talking about how much I don't miss Danganronpa discourse. Anyway I hope someone finds a way to get mad at me in this post!

((Admittedly I'd probably actually place Korekiyo above her because he ACTUALLY has a relevant and specified canon story,,, but, y'kno))

Plain and simple, she just has a handful of design and character tropes I super adore in characters! As a base, I'm usually not super into,,, well-adjusted, well-liked , reasonable, and rational characters. LMAO. They're fine but I live for exaggeration. I LOVE when they're little freaks and not watered down at all for the viewers sake/comfort, I love when they (both the writers and the written) just keep twisting the knife for no good reason other than the bit despite how unconventional it may be.

One could argue that her not being watered down and being as shitty to the other players as she is is a trauma response, or just a mentally ill person being mentally ill. It can be neat to think of her that way sometimes! It's of my opinion that almost all Danganronpa characters are super open-ended lore/personality-wise and we as fans are just making up canon as we go because it's FUCKING FUN, and, as such, all the ways that Angie can be interpreted is very interesting to me-- EVEN if that's seen as "the irredeemable annoying religion-force-feeding zealot antagonist." Which is, of course, an objectively awful way to view anyone REGARDLESS of media illiteracy, but, you know! I like weird freaks so this "flaw" they see is simply more food for me. Yippee!!

Whether I think she's canonically A) genuinely malicious and sadistic, B) traumatized from an abusive religious sect, C) honestly caring about the other players, and/or D) none/all of the above? I'll never tell! Oops all bangers!

Tropes I enjoy, whether or not I found myself enjoying them BECAUSE of Angie herself;;

Religion, especially if it's horrifying and...bad! (Most of my own characters deal heavily with religion and religious trauma, I think it's cool to play with, whether or not it's a fantasy religion like I think Angie's is)

CULTS! Cult behavior! Let's live in a commune!! (GUYS I LOVE MIDSOMMAR)

Dark skin / light hair contrast color combo goes hard!!!

+ The pansexual flag palette is literally my favorite color combo ever!!!!

Manipulative little shits!!!!!

Small scary women!!!!!!

Islander stuff, it's very nostalgic to me and I just have a deep love and appreciation for the beach and ocean!!!!!!!

Piercings!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cutesy sunshine character who could and would stab you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BLOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IDK HOW THIS WASN'T MY FIRST POINT!!!!!!!!!!

AND SHE'S JUST FUCKING SILLY!!!!!!!! SHE'S GENUINELY SO FUNNY AND CUTE ESPECIALLY IN HER INTERACTIONS WITH SHUICHI!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE HER SO BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She was an IMMEDIATE favorite when I played V3 and when I found out that, like, everyone fucking HATED her and she's probably the least liked character in the entire class by the fans, my brain immediately went the contrarian route to find reasons to like her even MORE. I tend to do this a lot, but when it's a character I already enjoy, it's even worse, dude.

ummmmm obligatory Shinnaga mention sorry but I frequently tend to appreciate a character a lot more based on potential dynamics alone. Ships, romantic or not, have legitimately gotten me to enjoy characters I hated before, based on interesting interactions unique to them alone. So while Kiyo and Angie's (they're making out btw) ingame dynamic and dialogues aren't REALLY what my sick and twisted mind views them as, it's worth noting that my honest belief and interpretation of the two of them could even give me a sliver of that dynamic being possible .......... means she's fuckin slay ............ it means love wins..... It means Vote For Yonaga 2024

#angie yonaga #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #character analysis #idk #ask #anon

[mychlapci]

Megatitties! Apologies for the 2nd post sent recently cause i wanna add onto the other anon who spoke about the megaboobs.

Megatron would definitely feed his bitlets whenever they demanded it, 100% spoiling them because they’re so demanding and he’s proud of their angry, half-babbled glyphs repeated until their carrier finally scoops them up, opens his chest-plates and let them greedily drink from his nozzles, giving the odd growl when they didnt share with their eachother. Him being oddly soft when one of the sparklings falls asleep, still sleepily trying to hoard a nozzle for itself, that he ends up sitting on his throne, going over some datawork with sleeping bitlets cuddling against his titties <3

Maybe it gets out to the autobots that Megatron has bitties, and now theres faction wide interrogation, clearly led by prowl and Maybe Optimus, because why do 4/5 of the bitties have blue optics. Unless Megatron carries that gene (he 100% doesnt since 1 little bitty has red optics) the sire is an autobot. Prowl has his suspicions and intel-reports show that these tiny bitlets share a decent amount of red..

Nobody admits it, nobody wants to admit it. But when a intel-report comes in saying Megatron is sparked again, all hell breaks loose in the middle of a battlefield. Nobody can do anything to stop prowl as he storms over to Optimus and DEMANDS an explanation. The Decepticons have definitely made bets on who would be bold enough to fuck their leader until he was sparked up, Who would put their spike anywhere near their crazy, stubborn, psychotic leader’s valve? And who would do it TWICE? But now they’re all making bets on how many times both leaders have gone at it away from the battlefield, or even on the battlefield depending on the horny meter. And making bets on when Prowl is gonna crash / bluescreen.

- Chase anon <3

Also, whats your opinion on Megaratch and Megop? I definitely favourite Megaratch but rambling about the two leaders, because technically they can say them fucking isnt treason since they make the rules, is needed.

oh god, Megatron's angry little bitlets rocking red plating and blue optics, which isn't something that the autobots find out until someone who was in Megatron's capture escapes and explains to the high command that one of their comrades, not pointing any fingers, seemed to have put their dick inside Megatron and created these oddly adorable abominations. The decepticons clearly realize that their leader's sparklings were co-created by an autobot, but none of them are going to say anything about it, what are you, nuts? The only one who says anything is Starscream, and he got his ass kicked by Megatron the moment the words “autobot spike” left his mouth. So everyone is just silently placing bets, but they're pretty sure it's gotta be Optimus. They theorized Prowl for a while, but the guy just isn't red enough. 

Prowl literally realizing it must be Optimus the first time he sees the sparklings on a recording Jazz brought back from a spy mission, but he tries to not jump to conclusions. Until rumour comes around that Megatron is sparkled again. This means that sometime during their last big battle, Optimus and Megatron must have strayed into the shadows and their dear, beloved, righteous leader shoved his spike into Megatron, out of all bots, and made him mewl over and over again until his gestation tank was so full his frame had no choice but to start making another batch of bitlets. The first batch is still getting breastfed, Optimus, what the fuck - Prowl, probably, in a fit of rage, not really aware what he's even saying anymore.

also btw Chase anon… why must your brain be so big. i am now forced to admit that megaratch is actually my guilty pleasure ship. I love megop dearly with my life, theyre my toxic old man yaoi, but… shit, you hit the nail on the head. Can I just indulge and say... Prowl screaming at Optimus, demanding to know what was he thinking, and Optimus is thoroughly confused until Prowl just straight up asks him if he'd fucked Megatron. Everyone's so angry that their bets fell through when Optimus swears he didn't. Well... then who did the blue optics and red paint come from?

#valveplug #pregnancy mention

[googleitlol]

It's been awhile but I wanted to post this little blurb to continue my Dove fic posts. I'm almost done with midterms so it felt nice to flesh out pt. 1 of this scene for a little break!

btw… ik this is a wukong x reader but, uh, it takes a while for the whole shipping part to happen… I'm sorry they literally hate each other but I'll get to the actual shipping when it happens, naturally. (It just might take… time) ANYWAY ENJOY–

Dove Masterlist

TW: Gore

Disagreements

The young monk shivers slightly at the chill of an adolescent winter's breeze. Many of the flora along the road that has been so frequently travelled was now coated in a blanket of frost. Snow has yet to fall, though it will no doubt come soon. Clouds cross the sky at a steady pace, the wind encouraging their movement. 

You walk alongside the horse that carries the Tripitaka monk, feeling the need to stretch your legs. The past few days you spent in your dove form were nice, despite having to listen to all of that irritating monkey's exaggerated tales, but sitting on Tripitaka's shoulder for so long began to feel tiring.

The Monkey King walks on the other side of the horse, whether he is unaware of your annoyed glances or just doesn't care is unclear. After spending the entire morning boasting to his master about his many accomplishments, one would think that he'd look your way and catch your glare. Or maybe he just enjoys seeing such a sour look on your face. With him, who knows?

The young master himself also failed to pick up on the annoyance that stems from his trusted ally, too enamoured with his disciple's stories. Wukong has a true sense for theatrics, which made his tall tales all the more entertaining. Even if the monk seemed ever so slightly put off whenever the king explained how he committed some of the atrocities from his past to earn his reputation, Tripitaka kept his small smile from the excitement in the monkey's voice.

Sighing over the tale of how the Great Sage earned his iron staff, Tripitaka turns to you. "What of you, young companion?" The question makes you look up in slight surprise. "You've nearly lived as long as Pilgrim Monkey here, even despite your mortality. Have you any tales as grand as his?"

You hum for a moment, in thought as your memory of every exciting moment from your life fails to recall itself. "None that comes to mind, Great Monk. I spent most of my life in training, which was long and tedious."

The young man frowns. "You've lived over five hundred years, have you not? Surely you have some stories to tell."

His curiosity makes you hum in amusement. The monk is close to you in age, though his wide eyes of wonder fill you with a strange warmth. Many weeks have passed since the start of the journey, and if not for the formalities you attempt to hold yourself to, you might consider the Great Monk a good companion, a friend. But that feels inappropriate to say.

"I suppose there are some, though not all of them are as light-hearted as the supposed Great Sage." You cast another glance to the celestial primate, who now finally looks to you. His expression is neutral, though, from the past few weeks of travel, you feel that the short abrupt flicks from the tip of his tail expose a glimpse at his own irritation.

Maybe he can't handle not having his master's attention. Good. "However, I haven't lived as long as you believe. Those five hundred years were spent in the Jade Palace, where time moves differently. What was centuries on the mortal plain was merely a few years for me."

To your surprise, the monk laughs lightly, eyes shining in delight. "You say you have no stories to tell, yet you lived in the Jade Palace? Never have I heard of a mortal staying in the realm of the celestials." You don't miss the twitch of Sun Wukong's brow, a hint of a smirk creeping its way onto your face. "Tell me, what is it like there?"

"Why ask the measly Dove?" Wukong laughs before you can answer. "I lived up there as well, you know. I've held two separate positions with those heavenly deities! I can tell you of the feasts, how servants waited on me, that I was given my very own office, even!"

You nearly surprise yourself as a cackle escapes your throat. The two men look at you as you cough discreetly into your arm. "Apologies, but you were the stable boy, were you not?" His tail flicks another time, now being accompanied with his ears flattening against his head. The Great Sage really spoke more through his body language than his words, you found.

"My second position was much more important." His eyes roll as his arms cross. "Not that you could understand what it means to be given such responsibilities from the court of heaven."

He's defensive, that's cute. "Maybe not. Although, you didn't seem to last long in either job offer, did you?"

That makes him laugh proudly. "At least I earned my place there by becoming the strongest. What did you do, again? Give Guan Yin some sad eyes until she gave you your little vacation?"

You frown at that, eyes narrowing. "Don't act like your presence was wanted, Ape." Tripitaka gives you a look of surprise at the snap of tone in your voice. "I was there because I had to be, we are not the same. You earned your place by causing so many problems, the Court's only diplomatic option was to keep you entertained!"

"And what do you know of my matters in Heaven?" Sun Wukong barks out another laugh, his tone mocking. You clench your fist as you glare at the being before you. His tail whips wildly now from side to side, his teeth bared with a threatening smile.

His question makes you roll your eyes, as though he had forgotten your very first encounter."Did your time under that mountain make you senile or did you forget I witnessed your rampage firsthand, you idiotic, brainless, stupid and foul—"

"Stop!" Your eyes snap towards the direction of a new voice. Men quickly surround you and the pilgrims, all brandishing weapons against your group. Tripitaka looks between them all with fear as you smile to yourself. It's been too long since there was some action on this trip. 

One of the six blocking your path steps forward, a man holding out his sword as he spoke. “Leave your horse and drop your bags, otherwise us kings of the highway will cut you down where you stand!” You can see he means business, but it only makes you itch to jump into action. It’ll be good to take down such lawless men–

A body hits the ground before you can reach for your weapon.

The bandits fall silent, five pairs of eyes wide with fear as the Pilgrim readjusts the grip of his staff. A steady drip of scarlet liquid falls by his feet. The body before him lays on its side, its head caved in a few paces away. Blood pours from it, pooling over the ground just where some of his insides are now exposed. The man’s eyes are still open, stuck in an expression stricken with terror.

“Whoops.” The monster shrugs. “Sometimes I forget what flimsy bodies you have.”

They all run, screaming as their prosecutor gives chase. Not a single man made it off the road. All you can do is stand amidst it all, the young monk atop the horse mirroring your expression of absolute dread. The men no longer hold life in their eyes, their bodies bent and mangled, spread along the path with their weapons in the now non-existent grasp of their hands. The Monkey King stood between it all, his hand casually wiping away the blood that had splashed onto his face in his swift deliverance of death. He didn’t even bother with the ripples of deep red that now stain his clothing and arms.

You have to fight back the bile that attempts to claw up your throat. While you manage to succeed, Tripitaka fails miserably. The monk fumbles off the horse, nearly losing his footing before you catch and help him to the side of the road where he empties his stomach. You’ve seen horrors, bodies of demons dismembered and bathed in blood. Many fights end in casualties, death is nothing new, but to see the Monkey King wield his staff…

It doesn’t help seeing human bodies discarded in such a way… no matter how many demons you’ve fought, seeing a person mutilated in such a way always leaves a gaping hole in the depths of your stomach and an intense weight holding down your heart.

Sun Wukong looks at the two of you, unbothered by his actions. “That guy has some spare arrows, Dove. You can never have too many, right?”

You can’t manage to say a word before Tripitaka regains his bearings and marches towards his disciple. “What have you done?!”

“Me?” The demon laughs. “Got us some free clothes, and a pretty good travel allowance if these guys were any good at robbing.”

“You killed them! You murdered six men!” The monk shouts, his voice just barely withholding an emotion you have yet to see from the man.

Wukong scoffs at the appalled reaction to his actions. “And you’re welcomed for it.”

“No–” The man sighs. “Sun Wukong, you’re a buddhist now, and we don’t kill people.”

“Pssh– they were asking for it.” The monkey scoffs, crouching down to shake some more of the human remains off his staff.

“No!” You’re surprised to hear such a strong demand from the measly monk, his voice more stern than you’ve ever heard. “You made a deal with the bodhisattva and whether you like it or not you will uphold your part of the bargain. That means not killing people!”

The disciple looks up at that. “You’re really upset? They wanted to rob you.”

“Not even a judge would give a death sentence for that!” He argues, his open glare taking his new student aback.

“Hey, what’s done is done. You can sit here and complain about it or we can keep moving.” He turns to continue west, looking over his shoulder as he does. His expression is more annoyed now, his tail flicking to and fro impatiently, waiting for his Master’s sign to keep moving.

But Tripitaka’s stare bears down on his pupil. “No. I won’t take another step with a murderer claiming to be my disciple.”

“Come on, you’re being ridiculous.” The Monkey King turns back to face us, a frown now hardening over his features.

“A person who murders in cold blood cannot call himself a buddhist.”

The two glare daggers into one another, it almost takes you aback. You didn’t realise the monk could take such a stand, yet here he is. Against the Great Sage, no less. Yet he refuses to back down, even with the demon challenging him. The air between the two feels thick, as though it’s become a semisolid you have to hold your breath in.

After what feels like an eternity, the monkey laughs. “Fine then, I guess I’m no buddhist.” He turns, taking a few steps away before calling back. “Good luck making it to the west, Master.” 

“Wha–” Before Tripitaka is even able to speak, Monkey King hops onto his Somersault Cloud. “Wait, you can’t leave!”

“Watch me.” The demon glances back to the two of you, and you catch his eye for the briefest moment. Before he takes off, you make sure he sees the grin resting on your face. You know that all he’s doing is proving your point, from your talk by the river. He knows it too, and he must hate it.

He’s gone before another second can pass, and all that’s left on the path is you, Tripitaka, the horse, and six dead men.

The monk keeps his eyes on the path the Great Sage took through the sky, his eyes wide with despair. “…What did I just do?”

Slowly, you approach the man, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You scolded a centuries-old demon for good reason, and he went to sulk about it.”

“No… no, no, no, no! This is terrible!” Tripitaka’s hands shoot to his head, eyes wide and panicked. “I’ve lost my first disciple! What am I supposed to do? Where did he even go?! I was angry, I didn’t mean–” 

“Monk, you must calm yourself.” You disrupt the spiral of distress before it can continue any longer. “You did the right thing. Your disciple did something wrong, you confronted him. Look at his actions!”

As the monk turns to glance at the casualties left behind, you quickly stop him. “Actually, don’t. I wouldn’t want you to get sick again.”

“I didn’t mean for him to leave, but I couldn’t just excuse–” The man cuts himself off, his face pale from just the thought of what we had witnessed mere moments ago.

Holding his arms, you offer a comforting smile. “I understand, but there’s no need to worry.”

“No need?” He guffaws. “Sun Wukong is gone!”

You sigh quietly under your breath. “I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner, but I had a feeling something like this would happen. I just didn’t think it’d be this soon.” You do your best to suppress the chuckle that tries to escape your throat.

“Guan Yin has left me with something for a situation like this.”

The slight frown you receive tells you the man’s interest is now piqued. “What?”

You glance back at the road before answering. “Help me with the robbers, and I’ll explain. Your disciple will be back, and we’ll have to be ready when he does.”

“I… I don’t understand.” Tripitaka frowns. “How do you know he’ll return?”

You don’t bother to hide your smirk as you think back to that night by the river.

 “I'll be there to watch the moment you mess up.”

“He’ll want to prove me wrong.”

#honey no #you don't know what you're abt to do #girlie abt to unleash pure trauma #little dove #sun wukong #jttw sun wukong #tripitaka #jttw tripitaka #journey to the west #sun wukong x reader #jttw