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helahades · 3 years

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the sexiest wip list

alright! reminder that this is a dark fic blog. dark fics are not just noncon, but uncomfortable subject matter and questionable thought processes and unreliable povs. control your media experience and read warnings carefully! they’ll be updated when the actual story releases, but these are wips, and i don’t know them all bc I simply have not finished these stories!

some darker warnings on this list include: threats of sexual violence, obsession, death, and previously mentioned unreliable povs from obsessive characters who justify themselves.

final reminder to read warnings! some of these are intense.

1) Jealous Thor (Untitled)

warnings: cheating, mean!reader, angst

You’re falling for Steve right under his nose. Each day, Thor feels you pull farther away. Each night, he squeezes his eyes shut as you lie asleep next to him, and tries to forget the way you lookat Steve these days with hunger and adoration that you once gave to him.

“He is earthly. For all his body’s and mind’s possession of unnatural experimental growth, he is earthly and limited, so Thor can’t understand why you’re drawing away from him, and telling Steve the jokes, giving Steve all the looks that had him hooked. The lingering eyes and touches… they ride the line of decency.”

—

2) Heimdall Angst (Untitled)

warnings: major character death, grief, existentialism, out of body experiences

Connected by incredible wisdom and duty to fate, you and The Gatekeeper of Asgard are pulled together by the unique pairing of your mutual seeing abilities—made for greatness, and destined for tragedy.

This story stretches from the moment that catalyzes your meeting, across the years of loving him, to the moment you lose him.

“A fateful tragedy. He sees an arrow through a dove.

He wonders how he missed your encounter with him in the whispers of the cosmos.

“—They’re star deaths,” you say abruptly, “the ones that move and change color. They speed up when you watch them—show their whole life to come...I read about them. Most can’t ever see them life this”.

Turning to where you stand beside him, his eyes swirl with the magic of knowing you, of your destinies combined. He sees you stare at his stars like they’re new.

“Only us.”

—

3) Away from the Party - Steve Smut

warnings: smut, dubcon, roughness, manipulation, unintentional exhibition

Steve hates these parties. After a mission, the work has just begun, and he fumes at the impossible way that Tony covers all problems in diamonds and pearls. Some things aren’t meant to be pretty.

You are. You’re soft, and kind, and you coax him gently away from the party—the source of his frustrations, with promises of leaving early, of calming down. Oh. He’ll calm down. And you’re just the toy to help. In a closet a corner away from the government’s finest, America’s golden boy has a hand on your throat and one demand.

“Keep quiet.”

“Of course, you both ended up at the party anyway, but with you swirling cool fingertips at his aching temples and rubbing softly over the stretch marks on his chest, he couldn’t find anything in heart to disagree with you then.

Even now with his erection pressed to you through barriers of clothing, with scarcely retrained and monstrous lust, he is steadily calmed by your presence. This rush, the secrecy—it excites him. And you pull him through the haze of it.”

—

4) Monster Thor Headcanons

warnings: wound and gore descriptions, some sadness

The fantasy of it all. Aesthetic, Lifestyle, Behavior. Some talking points include: hair, horns, hints about how he was influenced by a soft and charming lover many years ago, general horniness. Also spoiler that I’ve decided that He is 8ft tall

“Thor is...ancient. he is a being of war and folklore and raw energy and he’s earthy and elemental and connected. and form follows function. (and also whatever horny thoughts we want )”

—

5) The Call

warnings: voyeurism, death threats, obsession, implied sexual assault threats

When Frank comes to visit you, you beam like a sunflower. You’ve rearranged your room, and you’re excited about it. He would like to revel in the moment with you...but he’s caught up in one detail. Your bed is pushed against the window...and he can’t convince you to let him move it.

After a night of sin and wild lovemaking, you lie asleep bathed in moonlight, and Frank wakes to a call. Billy. He’s set up on a rooftop miles away, and he’s got things to say about Frank’s girl and what he’d like to do to her. A red dot on his chest means he can only listen. To your gentle snoring, and to the twisted fantasy of a brother unhinged.

“Black silk pajamas. Hair wrapped up in satin. Yellow light almost like sun stretches to the ceiling, but not quite over the rolling hills of your silhouette turned away from him in quiet sleep.

Frank’s hardly got the time to wonder why he’s awake, because his phone buzzes slow again. Pulls the moment he realizes he will have to break this magic peace to molasses and he half fills his lungs before huffing it out and flipping the phone open and tucked between his ear and shoulder.

“What.”

“She’s a reaaaaal pretty one, Frankie boy. You sure know how to pick em.”

—

6) Loki Longing (Untitled)

warnings: pregnant!fem reader, angst

On the Eve of the birth of Asgard’s heir, Thor is away. In a bath of flowers and magic to ease your pain, maidens worry over you, and Loki rescues you away, letting you rest in bed, and dreaming of the days when you were his lover instead.

“I’d like to rest…in my bed now, please.”

The ladies look to each other. It hasn’t been long enough for the herbs to take effect.

“My Queen,” the eldest starts—

“She is certainly your queen,” a silky silver timbre interrupts, “I’ve learned it’s best to mind her.”

His eyes fall to your form, and some blocked conflict—some guarded affection rests there. Some longing tucked in a pocket like an impossible secret.

—

7) With Child - Obsessive Steve

warnings: pregnant!fem reader, obsessive Steve

Watching you content, and very pregnant, as you gaze adoringly at your husband Thor from where you rest, half in his lap, Steve can’t help but fantasize. He thinks about impregnating you, the mechanics of sex with a pregnant woman, and being the god who does it all.

“Do you have to lie on your side? Is Thor just behind you, spooning you, fucking with desperate thrusts because you drive him so crazy this way? Steve has heard—and he doesn’t know where—that women get wetter when with child. Steve can’t help but wonder...does Thor need to hold one leg up for you—to save your back that’s so often heavy with the weight of supporting his legacy?”

—

8) Dean’s Girl

warnings: unreliable pov (john), voyeurism, masturbation + voyeurism

John notices the way you avoid him. You always seem to leave a room just as he’s coming into it. He’s living in the bunker now, and having to realize a lot of things that have changed for the both of his sons.

For example, his oldest, the last he’d ever think would fall in love, has got a pretty girl that dismisses her practical father in law with pointed boredom. She’s protective—how can he blame her after all that he’d put Dean through?

She’s pretty, and John is only a man, and can’t stop himself from just...looking. It starts with a convenient bend as she unloads the dishwasher...then he..can’t help that the door was open and she happened to be changing right there. He also can’t help it the next time when he’s just a little too obvious, pleasuring himself to the smell of her pretty lace panties.

—

9) Operator, Operator - Steve Smut

warnings: smut, financial troubles?, mentions of creepiness against and danger to sex workers, exhibitionism via phone call

Underpaid and overworked, you along with your roommate/secret crush/ best friend Steve have trouble making ends meet on minimum wage + his art commissions. When you start picking up calls on a phone sex line, he’s able to reason. It’s quick cash, and Steve is mature enough to keep his thoughts appropriate...at first.

One day, he wakes to the sound of breathy moans and a faked orgasms. He wonders how you would sound if only you were high on real pleasure...and there’s no time like the present. Don’t hang up. This call has only just started.

“By the time this year—junior year—swung around, Steve realized he was only catching glimpses of you. He would hear the shake of your keys when you tossed them on the counter, your backpack when it thudded to the floor, and most recently—your moans.

You must not know he’s home. Ever since you started online sex work, specifically being a phone sex operator, you seemed to also make the silent choice that more graphic calls would be saved for when he’s not around.

He gets it. You both split the rent, and Steve has done jobs he’d rather not mention in desperate times, when commissions came short. Still, sometimes you can’t tell when he’s here, and despite his best efforts to push down his arousal, to tell himself you’re his best friend...he’s an artist, and he can’t help but listen, and certainly not the wandering of his imagination.”

—

10) Professor Steve Medfet - (Untitled)

In an alternate timeline, a washed up Steve Rogers starts a new life in a run down city as an art / anatomy teacher. A class of hungry college students is filled to the brim each year, expecting the unspoken promise of their favorite hands on lab. You.

You keep his class sated, in turn giving the professor job security for funding his simple life out of the public eye. Each year when he calls, you come. Each year the students find a new way to tear you embarrass and degrade, much to the pleasure of the professor.

“Same speech. Same meaningless words. Focusing on the stillness of your skin and how it feels to be alone, you can almost drown out the way his tone edges toward excitement, the way the chairs shift and squeak—the anticipation.

Pretending your heart doesn’t send heat and cold flashes through you and run your breathing shallow, you look at the nicks in the door and try to guess their stories.

But then the metal frame clicks, the door unlatches. Professor Rogers wears a gentle smirk. It doesn’t ease your mind one bit.”

—

11) Swelter - Forest God Thor

warnings: sexual scenes, time limited conflict, religious themes

With a sickness overtaking nearby villages, yours is next, and has decided to sacrifice you to the cause of foraging for preventative herbs. You venture into the ancient woods after a rare vine of flowers, but leave with much more after encountering Thor.

After disturbing him where he lies cooling in the bank of a stream, you vow to prove the true intention of your soul—that you aren’t a hunter, or witch after his form or faculty, but a pious girl, also needing to escape the heat.

“You’re in the old woods now, and aside from the trees and the mossy nature tangled around them, there is only Him. Thor.

God of the harvest, bringer of land’s wealth, fertility, and vitality. You know of the sacrifices, of the woods where He is rumored to live in an unseen form, of livid white fire in the sky if He is severely displeased.

His name must not be spoken outside of prayer or ritual, and even now, you stutter to think it, and wonder if you are alone in your thoughts.”

[...]

“The frustration and the fear in your dilemma disturb the air, disquieting the otherwise enduring peace of the old woods, which rouses a large form in the cool muddy bank of the stream. It is only leaves shifting at first. Faded pumpkin and dried oak scatter—and suddenly the air smells like rain and your mouth sets around the tastes of copper and sage. Then, the leaves tumble off of a beast of a mass that rises slowly, and you note that it felt like the atmosphere changed to accommodate its awakening.”

—

12) Halloween Party - Thor Smut (Untitled)

warnings: smut, heartbreak, depressed!reader

An exclusive and mysterious Halloween party is still on this year—and you’re invited. It’s meant to be so extravagant and flashy an Avenger will one day attend, and all attendees decorate themselves in costumes inspired by the heroes, hoping to be noticed.

Fresh after a breakup with your boyfriend Brock, you take one half of the preordered couples costume and dress up as a goddess, determined to have a good night with your friends, find some excitement, and most importantly, a new god to match.

“Standing solemn, floor to ceiling windows allow in a few milky rays reflected by the moon, but they’re all the gems of your bodice need to gleam to a suitor's eye. Tonight, while you plan to rid your soul of another, you are welcomed with open arms and careful consideration as the final offering at an altar. You are seen by a god.”

—

13) Grief

warnings: dead!reader, guilt, grief, scary science, how do i say this... smut that is borderline necroph—there’s a replica of you, dark!steve, tony lives, pepper dies

Steve’s world is upside down. He’s lost the light of his life, and is completely in the dark. Luckily for him, Tony is back in the business of reality rejecting technology, and has found a way for him to be with you again.

At an abandoned cottage, Steve brings an armful of your scents to give the Tony’s invention sensory data, and faces the strange reality of what’s always been his worst stage...his worst trait. Denial.

“Dozens of test bottles full of manufactured scents, the kind of thing you smell borrowing a sweater, or with your face in the crook of someone’s neck. Essentially, the sort of organic thing that cannot be recaptured.

Steve’s got an armful of perfume and body wash. Of conditioner and deodorant, of all the elements he can think that make you smell the way you would—the way you do.

He wills the thoughts to be present tense. If he pretends you are alive, maybe it will look like it is you only sleeping. He wonders how well Tony knows the texture of your hair suddenly, because if it isn’t right, the experience will fall to shambles. It currently walks a plank over shambles. One wrong interpretation or surprise, and Steve will find himself spinning and burning with the fall into a new and uncharted taboo.”

14) Night Drive - Dean Smut

warnings: road head

On a long overnight drive, your back pressed into the seat of the impala makes you miss lying in bed with your lover, makes you miss his gentle caress right next to you...so you remind him how good it is to be close.

“You think about it when he hums a little tune. When he hums the song he wishes would play and thinks will come up next, it is eerily soft, and eerily similar to the soft contentment he sighs when you kiss on his neck.

When he reaches for your hand to hold, it makes you consider the shortness of the distance between you, and you think of pulling his cock out right here, giving him head that melts him here on this endless road.

Looking at him, he senses your interest—he turns his head to meet your eyes, throws up a grin of boyish charm. He’s happy to be here with you. These night drives are fine. He’s never minded them. But they’re even lovelier when in your company.”

—

15) Shadow - The Bucky Mystery

warnings: stalking, injury, sexual assault, canon typical hydra torture, mentions of bucky being forced to assault people, traumatized reader

On the run from Hydra, there aren’t many things that Bucky can remember. Inside his mind, there aren’t many feelings that make sense. Mostly, he feels guilt. Horror.

Following you to the gym where you practice ballet alone in the nights is all that makes sense, and for reasons he can’t explain, he feels drawn to you.

As time goes on, Bucky feels more enticed by his desire, you start to feel eyes staring from the walls, motivations and traumas are revealed, and in a horrible symphony, you both remember your connection.

“He’s a matte shadow against the noir shine of metal walls—an observer in the unlit quiet on his side of the room.

And he feels his unimportance. It’s humbling. Holds up the room like chunky beams and high rafters, dressed in the same layered neutrals. Framing the same cotton candy dancer, silent as the pad of her slippers when she turns her weight onto a straight leg, other coming up with her ankle pointed to the bend of her knee.

She spins, she spins and she whips her head around with each one, but it’s Bucky who gets dizzy.”

send an ask with any questions, or for more details about a particular story!

#which wip #follower poll #future fic hints #update

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howaminotinthestrokesyet · 3 years

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Road Dogs: Metallica on Tour

Metallica‘s first ever gig took place at Radio City in Anaheim, California in March 1982. Their set list included primarily covers with only two original songs, “Hit the Lights” and “Fight Fire with Fire.” They did Savage’s ‘Let It Loose,’ Blitzkrieg’s ‘Blitzkrieg,’ Sweet Savage’s ‘Killing Time’ and four Diamond Head tracks. For diehard fans, this original lineup did not include Cliff Burton as of yet, but instead Ron McGovney. They eventually asked him to leave the group because the guitarist did not contribute anything of value. Another good reason came in the fact that Dave Mustaine fought with him repeatedly. James Hetfield would later say this about that show. “There were a lot of people there, maybe 200, because we had all my school friends and all Lars’ and Ron’s and Dave’s buddies. I was really nervous and a little uncomfortable without a guitar, and then during the first song Dave broke a string. It seemed to take him an eternity to change it and I was standing there really embarrassed. We were really disappointed afterwards. But there were never as many people at the following shows as there were at that first one.”

Metallica’s second and third show took place at the Whiskey a Gogo in Los Angeles. This venue would be where Hetfield and Lars Ulrich first heard future bassist Cliff Burton and his band Trauma. More recently, Ulrich revealed diary entries related to Metallica’s appearances there. "No sound check. Sound was awful. Played great myself, but the band as a whole sucked. Went down OK." The group opened for Saxon, who the drummer had met six months prior after sneaking backstage during one of their shows. After the concert, the monitor engineer asked Ulrich if he had ever heard of Diamondhead. “Of course, we have, we just played a bunch of their songs!" As it turned out, the crew member was only joking about Diamond Head. He would later go on to work for Metallica in the same position for 22 years.

On April 16, 1983 Metallica played its first show with new guitarist Kirk Hammett at the Showplace in Dover, New Jersey. They had begun recording their debut album Kill ‘Em All in Rochester, New York at that time. The set list included all original material that would land on that first album making up nine songs. Hammett had replaced Dave Mustaine, who held quite a bit of ill will towards him for years claiming in 1985 that Kirk ripped off all his guitar riffs, which got him noticed in the metal community. In defense of Hammett, he was simply trying not to make waves in his new group as Ulrich and Hetfield had definitely decided not to cut any contributions from Mustaine.

On March 5, 1983 Metallica played its first show with Cliff Burton at The Stone in San Francisco, who had replaced Ron McGovney. In 2018, a recording of the show came to light online, which you can listen to on YouTube. The lineup still included Dave Mustain as well taking place a month before the other band members would fire him. They performed 12 songs that night essentially previewing everything to be included on their debut album. At that time, James Hetfield was still struggling over whether he should sing lead. On the recording, you can tell why this became the case as his voice sounds incredibly scratchy with absolutely no technique whatsoever. The show also became memorable as a Cliff Burton debuted the future track, “Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth).”

Cliff Burton played his last show was Metallica in Stockholm, Sweden in September 1986 before his tragic passing. A few years ago, Metallica released a boxed set of rarities for their album, Master of Puppets, which included a recording of that final show. In an interview with Rolling Stone, Lars Ulrich and Kirk Hammett talked about their memories of that last concert with Cliff. Ulrich noted, “We played the show in Stockholm, and it went incredibly well. I think it may have been a rare case where we actually played an additional song that wasn’t on the set list, because the show was so good. That’s not something we did a lot then or now. So there was a good vibe.” Hammett would say this in the same interview, “It was significant because it was the first show where James played guitar again (Wrist Injury). He strapped on a guitar and was able to play the encore; I think it was “Blitzkrieg” or something. But I remember the five of us, including John Marshall, being really stoked James was back and playing and looking like was gonna make a pretty healthy recovery. I distinctly remember that show being good, and the feeling when we got offstage was really great and positive and forward-looking. Like, “Great, James is back in and it won’t be long ’til we’re back to our old selves again.”

In November 1986, Jason Newsted would play his first show with Metallica at the Country Club in Reseda, California. He did so in front of a sparse crowd because it had been a secret show for the group Metal Church. Newsted had played with the band for only a short time during rehearsals for the next album. James Hetfield introduced Newsted for the very first time in this way. “Welcome to the very, very secret Metallica gig that every fucker knows about! Here’s the new fucker right over here man, this is the guy… Jason Newsted, we fucking love him, man, so make him feel at home, alright? I want to have some fun tonight.” Their set list would consist of 14 songs from their first three album releases.

In the summer of 1992, Metallica decided to perform a few dates with Guns ‘N Roses. The hype for these shows represented the tour of the year, but the show in Montreal turned into a tragic affair. A pyrotechnic accident occurred as they performed “Fade To Black” causing second and third degree burns on half of singer James Hetfield's body. He recalled the incident, “I'm burnt – all my arm, my hand completely, down to the bone. The side of my face, hair's gone. Part of my back. ... I watched the skin just rising, things going wrong." Jason Newsted would remember that Hetfield looked like the Toxic Avenger from his vantage point. The group immediately cut the show short, so the singer could receive medical attention. He would later say that during the trip to the hospital a road crew member bumped his burnt hand leading him to punch the guy in his “nuts.” For fans still at the show, things only got worse as Guns ‘N Roses delayed getting on stage for two hours. Axl Rose probably only sang for 20 minutes before cutting his night short. GNR Had known what had happened to Hetfield, but they still phoned it in anyway. After that, 2000 people rioted in protest followed by several arrests. This night would lead to great animosity between the two groups for years continuing to this day, but it should be noted that Metallica acted professionally completing the tour with an injured Hetfield. Slash of Guns N’ Roses would later talk about the tour being a financial disaster for them. “Metallica was earning the exact same paycheck as we were every night but while they pocketed the whole thing, we were blowing 80 percent both on union dues for all of the overtime we cost ourselves going on late and on these stupid theme parties. It was just bad." Axl had spent extravagantly on backstage parties in an effort to impress members of Metallica.

In April 1999, Metallica recorded two performances on successive nights with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra led by Michael Kamen. The idea for such a concert had first come up when they worked with the composer on the Black Album song, “Nothing Else Matters.” He had approached them about such a collaboration, but never heard anything until years later receiving a phone call from Lars Ulrich. They filmed the live show at Berkeley Community Theater in San Francisco as Kamen had written additional material to supplement Metallica’s arrangements. The band also released two new songs specifically for the show, “No Leaf Clover” and “Human.” According to James Hetfield, This idea of combining heavy metal and classical music was originally an idea brought up by Cliff Burton, who had a strong background in both. One can see this throughout Metallica’s songwriting in their early years as the bassist relied on melody and instrumental qualities found in classical compositions like his favorite one, Johan Sebastian Bach. S&M would be released as a concert film and an album, with the latter reaching number one on the Billboard 200 chart.

In 1991, Metallica would play a concert in Russia that has become the stuff of legends because 1.6 million people watched it in person. The highlight of the show came when they played “Enter Sandman” as one could see Russian military personnel rocking out just as hard as anybody else. One must note that they were not the only band there that day as other artists included the Black Crowes, Queensryche, Motley Crue, and AC/DC. The Monsters of Rock Festival would only occur this one year in what would become the former Soviet Union. Motley Crue had played one of the early versions of the festival in 1984, but ironically Metallica had surpassed them as a more popular headliner by this time.

In August 2020, Metallica became the first rock act to perform a pre-recorded concert for Encore Live’s drive-in series. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, live concerts were canceled all over the world, so artists like Blake Shelton and Garth Brooks participated in this drive-in movie concert experience. Tickets to view this at your local drive-in cost $115 for up to six people per car. The show took place at an undisclosed location near their home in San Rafael, California.

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dignityneeded · 4 years

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Bar Nights

summary: tom reflects on will being the only one with the ability to somewhat hold his liquor.

word count: 1.3k (wow i forgot i could write that much)

warnings: tom

Beer bottles clinked in the bartender’s hands as he set them down in front of the group of men at the bar. It felt like the first night in centuries that all five men could just get together and let loose. Every week, one or two of them had to bail. One week, it was a family emergency, some chick from ten years ago hooked one of the guys up with concert tickets another. Saying they missed each other would be an understatement, and their behavior at the bar told the entire story too well.

Ben, true to his personality, was hooting and hollering already, grabbing the attention of the five women that sat a couple tables away. Any normal, sober guy would be tripping over their feet trying to get one of them home---too bad he was too tipsy to notice any of them. Frankie had a tipsy arm slung around Pope's shoulder as he told another nonsense story about one of his ex-girlfriends. Obviously, he wasn’t too worried about his audience, as the only two people in his vicinity danced in between drunken, dry answers and sips of beer. Tom was tapping at the empty beer in front of him, silently waiting for a text back from Tess about her performance. Since Molly kicked him out of their lives completely, Tom had been trying to get better. Less drinking, more father-ing, but that didn’t stop him from having a beer or two while watching his friends bounce off of the walls. Will was pretty much sober. Most nights, he was running damage control on his rowdy brother, picking up chairs and tables that he had knocked over on the way to the bathroom. Tonight had been no different. Only, this time, he’d been stopping periodically to take sips of the beer he brought with him.

“Looks like a wild ride,” a small, but secure voice spoke from the space behind the bar.

Tom’s head lifted from his phone so he could see the bartender, whose eyes had left the man in front of him, and followed Ben all the way to the cheap karaoke machine that the bar had gotten a few weeks back. A small grunt left Tom’s mouth, the closest thing to a laugh that someone outside of his friend group had been able to give him in months.

“They’re something,” Tom sighed before taking a swig of the new beer he had just been handed, “but they’re family, you know?”

The seemingly simple understanding between the two men paved the way to a lengthy conversation about what was going on in their lives at the moment. During which, Will came back to place down his newly-empty bottle of beer, and Santiago and Frankie left to go talk to the only girls left at the bar. It hadn’t been long at all since they had begun speaking, but it was sometime in between Benny’s third song and his dazzling duet with Frankie that their venue of the night became deserted.

“I get it,” the bartender replied to some boring ass joke that Tom had picked up from one of the guys in his unit. “You guys army or marines?”

Tom froze slightly at his sudden read of them, but the alcohol in his system wouldn’t let him stay tense for more than a few seconds. A nervous breath left his lips before he asked, “How did you read us that fast?”

“I had my hunch the minute you guys walked in, if we’re being honest,” the bartender said as he began to wipe down the bar, “Soldiers are always easy to spot, especially groups of them. But your friend singing karaoke back there? He’s swinging his dog tags over his head like a lasso.”

Tom looked over his shoulder, and couldn’t help but crack a half-smile at the scene behind him. Ben had his dancing feet on some empty table with his tags in one hand and the scraps of his shirt in the other. Somehow, he had found Tom looking at him, and Ben gave him the biggest, most sincere smile a person could give with the same amount of alcohol in their system as he did.

“Wooooooohooo! Come on, Redfly!” Ben hollered from across the small bar. “You’re missing all the fun!”

“There is no fun! Not while you’re up there!” Will’s voice followed his brother’s, and Tom’s eyes soon found him standing underneath the table his brother was on, arms outstretched, and a weary look on his face. Tom chuckled at Will’s attempt to prevent him from breaking any of the bones in his body. The bond between those two was strong, but Benny was like a wild bull: wild and controlled by no one.

Pope and Frankie came stumbling into the chairs that they were sitting in before they got up. Pope was sitting on the fence that separated tipsy and intoxicated, while Fish probably had just as much to drink as Ben did. It was times like these that Tom appreciated Will and Santiago’s natures, and their high tolerance for alcohol. Will had Ben in some sort of a headlock, and dragged him over towards their friends.

“Ya’ think that fish wanna keep us in little bowls with castles in ‘em?” Benny asked no one in particular, his smooth accent refusing to be overshadowed by the drunken slur of his words.

“Only as much as dogs wanna put us on a leash,” Frankie shot back at Ben. His arms were lazily slapping at Santiago in between some of his words: a demonstration of his pseudo-violent method of trying to get him to move from the only spot in between Catfish and his half-empty beer. If Santiago had one more sip of whatever he was drinking at the start of their night out, then maybe he would have given into the only man in the room that was shorter than him.

It took some effort and time to subdue the drunken Frankie, but once he did, he spoke, “The two of you geniuses gotta stay away from each other for the rest of night.”

“Yeah,” Will wasted no time adding, “We don’t need bright ideas from your shared brain cell anytime soon. We’ll let you know if we do.”

“Only if you pinky promise that we’ll be the first people you tell.” Frankie spoke once again.

“Or else,” Benny added quickly. The two men shoving their pinkies toward the two men trying to separate them. After sharing a look that only a semi-sober man could understand, they begrudgingly honored the pinky promise.

The entire exchange between the four other guys in the group made Tom chuckle a bit as he collected the proper shares from each guy. He himself was in no way sober, but watching the two guys get drunk off their asses and make pinky promises made him feel like they were back at the base again. Just them against the world.

As he struggled to help Will with Benny’s jacket, he realized that he had been wrong during his recent years living as a civilian. For the longest time, Tom Davis truly believed that he was broken, and that the only thing that could possibly fix him was a gun in his hands. That had never been the truth. Sure, the towering veteran had more than his fair share of issues, and was an asshole to almost everyone he had come into contact with, but it was nights like these that reminded him that he was not a completely broken-down, batshit crazy human being. He was just a guy who was missing a couple of pieces after coming home from war.

#ngl this is kinda cute #tom is still a dick but i think i hate him a little less now #tom davis #will miller #william miller #william ironhead miller #catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales #Santiago Garcia #santiago pope garcia #ben miller #benny miller #triple frontier #oneshot

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aria-chicken-flugget · 5 years

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Yuunoa Pregnancy Announcement AU fic!

For @34716156hnsy :)

Notes: SOOO sorry this took so long omg - i just wanted it to be as close to perfect as i could get it :D, i really hope you like it as well as other readers too ofc!

I’ll be posting my other prompts (like MikaYuu and KimiYoi) soon everyone, i promise XD <3

This fic below is a direct sequel to The Yuunoa Engagement AU written in a mini series for @34716156hnsy, and can be found here.

The New Family AU of the same universe that i wrote for them can be found here.

(Chronologically, the engagement fic is first, then this one, THEN the New Family fic if you’d prefer to read them that way)

Keep ‘em peeled for the follow-up fics to come for this mini-series - like their wedding! Right, enough from me, on with the prompt!

The Beauty Of Life

Relationships: Yuuichirou Hyakuya/Shinoa Hiragi

Characters: Yuuichirou Hyakuya, Shinoa Hiragi

Rated: General Audiences (ao3) (Depictions of sickness, mildly suggestive themes and a swear word)

Summary: Yuu and Shinoa have a lazy morning together, being recently engaged - only to be interrupted in a way Yuu never would have guessed.

The dull peach light of sunrise had filtered through the windows as Yuu’s eyes peeled open to see it’s light tint the crown of Shinoa’s head. His eyes were murky with sleep for a moment as he shifted his stiffened limbs that had locked around her in the tangled, silky sheets. He breathed in the morning with a soft sigh, a small smile gracing his lips, despite the ache at the nape of his neck and down his arms from not moving. He wasn’t planning on moving anytime soon either, they rarely got mornings together like this. It was a Sunday, they didn’t have to do anything, didn’t have anyone to see. He imagined they’d be spending many Sundays this way now that they’re engaged. The thought widened his lazy smile some as he allowed his lids to close again, nuzzling into her hair.

The next time his eyes opened, it was to a golden light that shone proudly against Shinoa’s smirk, it’s light only reaching the lower half of her face due to his own head having saved her from being blinded by it’s light. He couldn’t help but smile at her smile as she allowed a soft giggle, the sun having created a halo around Yuu’s mop of jet black hair.

“I told you that I wanted to be the big spoon.”

Shinoa uttered in a sleepy voice, followed by the quiet chuckles of them both. Yuu shifted his arm to cradle his head whilst the other remained lolloped over her middle.

“I don’t care what you want, I’m the big spoon. You’re too small to be the big spoon.”

He uttered back in a rasped voice, stifling laughter again as they tried to keep their eyes open.

“Man-child.”

“Dwarf.”

They jested before an idle stretch in an effort to wake. Yuu rolled onto his back against the soft sheets as Shinoa had rolled over to her bedside to check the time, her back to Yuu. Yuu couldn’t help but trail her body with his eyes, she’d gotten curver since they were younger. Her ivory curves were in an hourglass under a small vest top and a pair of his boxer shorts that she’d rolled up some to fit her better. The thought made him smirk as he idly stroked her sides with the fingertips of his spare hand, making her hum in approval with a dirty smirk he couldn’t see before she’d rolled back over to face him,

“We’re so lazy, it’s already past 11am.”

He grinned as after she’d pointed that out, she’d only snuggled into the sheets further, closing her eyes. He shrugged,

“It’s Sunday.”

“It’s God’s day.”

He chortled at that one. He snaked his arm around her waist again, drawing closer,

“I’m pretty tired after last night anyway.”

He rasped suggestively, even now causing her cheeks to dust in a faint blush. She’d opened her eyes again, her beautiful doe brown eyes that locked with his bright green ones. She traced his bare torso with her eyes and back again. He’s been working out, she realised with a bitten lip.

As she watched his smiling features light up his face, with nothing but awe in her eyes, she realised something that was far more important. Morning breath didn’t matter between them now, it was different from when they were younger, when she felt the need to brush her teeth and comb her hair before he woke. When she thought she should wear bras that offered her a curvier appearance as well as the fact that they were laced and sexy, for when she would see him. It didn’t mean she couldn’t or shouldn’t but - it didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were so comfortable with each other, it was a case of could, not should.

“You’re so stupid, Yuu.”

She giggled, eyes fluttering to where her hands had begun to meet his chest as he held her. He grinned widely, knowing all too well by now that that was her way of declaring her love for him. Suddenly, Shinoa felt a lurch in her stomach. Her eyes tore away from her hands and shot up to Yuu’s ignorant gaze. That awful sensation hand climbed up her throat and she grumbled internally, not now for fuck sake.

Yuu saw the distress in her eyes, when his words of worry were on his lips, she’d ripped out of his embrace and scrambled to get herself off of the bed.

“Shinoa, what’s wrong?”

He asked as he propped himself up on his elbows, half under the crumpled sheets as she’d run off down the corridor faster than he’d seen her in a long time. His dark brows knit together further as he sat himself up. When she didn’t come back as quickly as she’d left, he decided to go after her, ignoring how the cold floor felt as he took a few steps upon the balls of his feet with a low hiss of obscenities. He was just at the door to their bedroom when he’d called her name again with apprehension. He’d seen the door to their bathroom ajar when down the corridor and heard her retch, seeing a slither of her bent over the toilet from behind the door.

“Hey, you’re sick? Can I get you anything?”

He cooed from the door as she’d already finished, breathing heavily a moment before shaking her head,

“No, I’m fine.”

“Shinoa, you’re not fine. I’m getting you water at least, hold on.”

Yuu had gone to get her a glass of water and she’d tied her hair back more efficiently, sighing as she flushed the toilet. She was about to rise to clean her teeth, only she’d felt that horribly familiar lurch that caused her sickness again. Yuu had stumbled in and rubbed soothing circles into her back this time, catching any stray hairs from her face with his other hand until she’d finished for good.

“Thanks, Yuu.”

She croaked as she wiped her mouth with tissue and flushed it all away, closing the lid to sit on the toilet wearily. Yuu shifted to crouch before her, worry filled his emerald eyes until she looked at him with a weak smile,

“Really, I’m fine, Yuu. I promise.”

His brows knit together in bemusement until he lifted the glass of water to her. She took measured sips before she finally said with a brighter smile,

“I’d wanted to wait to tell you at the engagement party next weekend, but –“

Her gaze flit to her hands a moment and Yuu gripped them softly, a flutter in his heart of anticipation of what she might have been so bashful about. He searched her eyes with bated breath as she gripped onto his hands more tightly,

“I’m pregnant, Yuu.”

Yuu’s mouth gaped a moment and Shinoa tried not to feel anxious over his reaction, or lack of one thereof. What is he thinking? She wondered with a chewed lip. How is he taking this? Yuu’s thoughts were racing all at once, are we ready for this? Is this too fast, like Mika once warned? What if we can’t afford children right now? What if I’m a terrible father? I never had one I don’t know what it is to be a father – But then he was broken from his anxious reverie at the sight of his future wife in front of him with an anxious smile gracing her lips. That’s when a breath of relief escaped him, a smile stretching across his face with a small laugh,

“Really? We’re gonna be parents?”

He bubbled in excitement. There’s no one he’d rather experience this with, he’d realised. No one else he’d rather figure this out with.

“Yea, if this works out, we’ll be parents.”

Shinoa allowed a small laugh with him, she hadn’t planned to tell him from atop a toilet seat. Hadn’t planned having children on the cusp of their wedding instead of a few years down the line in marriage. But that’s the beauty of life, nothing ever really goes to plan, but you’re with someone you love for the ride.

NOTES: I hope this was ok and not too cheesy XD i just thought a more fluffy one would be nice from the more angsty one last time hahah! Until next time! :) <3

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #fanfiction #Yuunoa #prompt #yuuichirou hyakuya #shinoa hīragi #one shot request #au #pregnancy announcement au #Yuunoa au

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eligrantbooks · 5 years

Text

gotta vent about my day real quick

highlights of the day

> be professional ghostwriter.

Agreed to edit a 25000 word segment of a finished manuscript for a much loved regular client, who said the MC’s dialogue needed to be punched up. Easy enough. I figured it would take a few hours.

Was briefly excited to discover the manuscript was for a concept I had outlined and written several chapters for a few months ago.

Excitement rapidly dwindles as I realize that beloved client has hired another ghostwriter to write the majority of the book. Which would be fine, except this other ghostwriter has no fucking idea what they are doing.

Formatting is a god damn disaster and I spend several hours just getting the document into a workable condition.

You ever open a word doc, look at the navigation pane, and just see a wall of blank links, because someone applied the header formatting somewhere and then just hit enter a million times instead of using a page break like a civilized god damn human being?

in the middle of this forest of blank headers, actual chapter titles are scattered at random, and also they only applied the header to roughly one out of every five chapters or so, you know, just, when they felt like it. when the spirit took them. when the stars aligned. when the feng shui was right.

Also, apparently they like the way first line indenting looks but don’t know how to make word do that (spoiler: its easy as shit and takes like two clicks) so every once in a while they start manually hitting tab before every line, until they get distracted and stop for a while, luring you into a false sense of security before they remember and start doing it again.

Sometimes, when a scene transitions but they dont want to just end the chapter for some reason, they break it up with spaces. Other times, they like to use asterisks. Once or twice, just for flavor, they throw in one of those page width lines that word makes when you type a line of hyphens.

There is random highlighting in places, for no discernible reason.

Once I have the document formatted in a way I can bear to work with, I start actually reading through it. About the first seven chapters were written by the client. They’re cheesy but solid.

Then I get to chapter eight, and the suspicions i had begun to form while putting the formatting through traction (namely that whoever did this was a fuckwit) quickly crystallized into a shining certainty that my beloved client had mistakenly hired An Ass Clown.

Not just An Ass Clown, but An Ass Clown who thought 50 Shades was a beautiful love story, actually.

And they gave This Ass Clown, this literary reprobate, this paste eating remedial english mother fucker, my outline.

let me clarify that i did not expect to have sole control of this story when i produced the outline for beloved client, and I was okay with that. That’s how it works. If I’d been dead set on writing this myself, i wouldn’t have sold the outilne to beloved client. but it really rubs salt in the wound to have spent hours of my life crafting the bones of this story, which i really liked and was excited to see take shape

and then find out it has been put into the pie fondling hands

of An Ass Clown.

first hint that something has gone drastically wrong: the arrival of completely unnecessary and ridiculous fantasy names for things.

“oh we dont drink coffee in this book. it’s kofee. at least until three chapters from now when i forget and it becomes kofe. Oh, and watch out for those thornaby bushes! I’m going to misspell that one literally every time I use it! It’s entirely possible that this isn’t a fantasy name at all and I just have a small seizure whenever I try to type the word thorn bush!”

second omen of my impending anuerism: phonetically written accents which are so comically stereotypical and inaccurate that native speakers of that accent should be entitled to financial compensation, except they can’t even stick to the stereotype accurately, producing gems such as “It’s not safe in that there pen with ‘em swine, young miss.” I don’t even know what accent that’s supposed to represent. To top it off these accent abominations are sprinkled in with all the consistency and reliability of a lactose intolerant cheese enthusiast’s bowel movements.

But this, I tell myself, moving on, is not my problem. I just need to punch up the mcs dialogue. It’ll be fine. I can do this. I just need to take this shit: “A fond idea, but I doubt I have that ability.” I joked. “I can’t imagine living without true sunshine. Even the triplet moons must shine less brightly without their sister sun.” and make it… not like that.

Except, and here’s where I start hitting the real roadblock guys

this book is in first person.

essentially, the entire novel is the MC talking.

So sure I can change the spoken lines, but her internal monologue

which is, i remind you, the entire narrative

her internal monologue is going to keep being maggie gyllenhal’s character from The Secretary if her copy of the script had been swapped with just a binder full of sonnets written by a middle school english class during the Shakespeare unit.

I get to chapter ten around three in the afternoon. I have been working steadily, with an unusual degree of focus thanks to my recent adderal prescription, since ten in the morning.

this is where shit begins to go truly bananas.

this is a YA beauty and the beast type fantasy

that good fun indulgent shit that’s almost as enjoyable to write as it is to read

usually. previously. before i had to endure this traumatic twelve hour experience.

Chapter ten is the first big “dinner” scene. this book isn’t being shy about pulling from the source material, but that’s fine. the beast “apologizes” (heavy quotes there) for having earlier used magic to force the heroine to answer his questions truthfully. They talk and almost seem to making progress for a bit, and then have a fight and storm off. Standard stuff.

Except, uh, the beast’s apology is, essentially “Yeah I shouldn’t have done that.” “so you’re apologizing?” “no but it’s the best you’re going to get so deal with it.”

and the headstrong, independent heroine who wears pants and wrestles pigs and dont need no man

just kinda rolls with this. There’s giggling.

They have their big dramatic fight, exit stage left, much angst and todo.

The next morning heroine wakes up to find the beast has (presumably) snuck into her room while she was sleeping and dumped a bunch of new dresses on her. he has also (apparently) replaced her brain with Bella Swan’s more vapid cousin.

She forgives him instantly. Because pretty dresses. She also starts calling him master, because why not. She has, over night, become the darling submissive Tumblr doms dream of.

This is not a bdsm book. I am eighty percent certain it doesn’t even include soft core smut. I’m telling you this so that you understand this transformation was not a contrivance in order to facilitate kinky sex. I have written a contrived set up to a sex scene or two in my day. This is not that. This is Not what is in the outline. I know, because i wrote the outline. It is My Outline.

No, The Ass Clown just… decided to do this. Apropos of nothing. I’m beginning to think the Ass Clown’s decision making process involves whipping pies at a comically large dartboard. And all the options on the dartboard are just “lol whatever”

By the time I get to chapter eleven, wherein our newly lobotomized heroine is “excited to wear a new frock and please the master!” - direct quote I have given up any pretense of editing dialogue and I am just straight up rewriting shit using the previous garbage as a loose outline.

I have eaten, maybe, three bites of a bowl of oatmeal all day. I have not taken a bathroom break since before noon. I have missed my deadline. Beloved client is concerned. I’m sure I can still do this, I just need a few more hours.

the words sound like truth but my soul knows i am a liar

I frantically restructure scene after scene, deceiving myself each time that it will be the last, and I will be able to get this crazy train back on the rails. But this crazy train has no interest in being on the rails. It’s a direct line no stops right off the edge of the cliffs of insanity.

The beast jumps unpredictably from homicidal rage and threats of violence to jokes and flirting as though he did not just declare her his property and threaten to rip her tongue out a few paragraphs ago. Heroine swoons and sighs and giggles regardless of whether she is dealing with Dr.Jekyll or Christian Gray on PCP.

But I’m still sure I can do this. I’ll just adjust these two full chapters to make her appropriately scared and angry, and then replace this weird conversation here with a heartfelt apology from him and an effort to do better. That will totally work. Unless, you know, it turns out that conversation I want to replace only starts out with them joking and laughing together, and turns into him berating and abusing her mid paragraph of a fuckin montage a page later! But, haha! Why would The Ass Clown ever do that? It would be completely irrational, tonally jarring and out of character! Only a seltzer slinging rainbow suspender-ed peanut butter fumbling son of six fucks would do that.

so of course The Ass Clown did that.

It’s eleven at night. I know when I’m beaten.

I inform beloved client that the Ass Clown has bested me and I can do no more.

She is very understanding.

I send her what I managed and I check the added word count while im at it

i added a full 6,000 words to that manuscript just trying to patch up this sloppy motherfucker’s lopsided prose and gossamer thin understanding of narrative structure

son of a bitch had about as firm a grasp of romance as i currently have on the trembling shreds of my sanity.

their grip on character writing could not be more tenuous if they had first dipped the target brand Hulk Hands which I assume they always have on their person into a barrel of adult-film-grade silicon lubricant and then taken their Leapfrog 2-in-1 Leaptop Touch down a waterslide.

Do you know how much I usually make for 6000 words?

$180.

Do you know how much I made for enduring this ass blasting, which I naively believed I could tackle in a matter of hours?

$100.

You owe me $80 Ass Clown. And I aim to collect.

Also I lost my damn mind for a minute and said the words "i dont know shit about fuck my guy” to my actual father on facebook

so there’s that.

#reposting from my rp blog #i need to get better about not using it as a personal

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shewhowantsmouseears · 6 years

Text

The Son Of Scheherazade, 21

Notes: As always, thanks to my fantastic editors, Drucilla and BlueShifted!

Originally this entire arc was going to be stuck in comedy. (honestly, most of this story was meant to comical when it was first made.) But after some good long thoughts, I decided that things should take a bit more of a dramatic turn.

In other words, next chapter? Gird your heart, things are going to get worse before they get better.

Summary: The next piece of the map has been found, deep within a mysterious cave that offers your greatest desires. But can this crew survive the caverns when they can't survive each other?

Despite being woken up in the middle of the night, Mickey managed to get up bright and early the next morning. While he never got a straight answer out of Minnie about what had upset her, he decided not to push it. When she was ready, she'd surely tell him. For now he decided to focus on the upcoming location of the next piece of the map. Something about a cave – as usual, Daisy was never one to give details until they had arrived. While the disaster with the Imp hadn't exactly been fun, Mickey was looking forward to a new adventure to learn things and better himself.

He walked into the empty hallways, stifling a yawn behind one hand, Minnie loyally on his right and Pluto lagging behind. “I wonder what today will be like,” Mickey said sleepily, rubbing the last bits of dream dust from his eyes.

But not too long after they started walking, Minnie suddenly spoke, “Master? May I ask you something?”

Mickey glanced over, wondering why she was upping the formality and politeness today. “Sure, Minnie, you can always ask me anything.”

“Do...” Minnie was already regretting asking this, and she knew the answer, yet there was a weight on her chest making her press on. “Do you love your parents?”

Any further drowsiness in Mickey was swiftly swept away, startled by such a question. “Huh?” He momentarily wondered if he heard right, then tried to guess what he'd done in his past that would make her doubt his deep affection for his family. “Of course I do! They mean the world to me! Why else would I be doing all this to rescue them?” His eyebrow quirked. “Why do you ask?”

Minnie, obviously, couldn't just say she recently learned his father was a murderer and that his mother miraculously stopped his blood-lust. “I... I was just … I don't know a lot about them, so...I was wondering what they were like.”

Mickey and Minnie had spent so much time together that Mickey had begun to recognize and understand some of her quirks – when Minnie was trying to find a word loophole, her eyes would widen just a bit, she'd bite on her lower lip, and then she'd speak with a gentle carefulness like someone trying to make their way down a rough hill. Like many of her habits, Mickey found it absolutely adorable. So adorable, really, that it became difficult to care why she was clearly lying. “Well, I'm pretty sure I've told you what my mother is like...but my father, oh boy, he's always over the top.” With a chuckle, Mickey resumed his walk. “Everything's always big and loud with him. The only time I've ever known him to be quiet was when mother was telling one of her stories. Gosh, I remember when I was little, she almost lost her head,” Mickey took no notice of Minnie paling at that ironic phrasing, “ because my father was trying to see how high he could toss me!” The chuckle turned into a boisterous laugh, recalling how his mother nearly hit the ceiling when Mickey literally hit the ceiling, his father trying to apologize through wild guffaws. This was a boy who loved his father.

Did Mickey know about his father's bloody deeds? He must have, she thought. How could the story of Scheherazade spread so far and not have the wretched crimes attached to it? Did Mickey forgive his father for his actions, or were they so far away that they couldn't possibly reach him? Was Mickey ever made to suffer for his father's past? Even with all the good his mother had done, there were some things in this world that could never be forgiven. Minnie lifted her head, as Mickey went on about the time his father had brought in fresh fish so he and Mickey could pretend their bath-tub was an ocean. As he laughed about the smell that room had for days, the golden scar on his neck bounced on his throat.

It was then Minnie remembered the famous show-down with Daisy that felt like an eternity ago, where that scar had helped him achieve victory. Where had such a hideous gash come from? Why hadn't it healed properly? For the first time since it attained its golden glow, Minnie actually stared deeply at it, studying it, and with great horror realized this was not a wound made by accident or caused by childish mistake. She'd been through enough horrifying masters to know that kind of cut, that was the kind of slice meant to end a life, someone had actually tried to kill -

“Minnie, what was the last thing I said?” Mickey asked of her, slightly miffed but more amused.

Minnie stopped in place, caught and rather grateful she had to stop thinking. “I. Um... something about... fish?” She faltered, and then shut her eyes, embarrassed. “I'm sorry, Master, here I am asking about your family and not even listening!”

“It's fine, it's fine.” Mickey waved a hand, not minding. To him, it was rather funny that someone didn't care to hear about his famous parents. “If you ask me, just talking about them doesn't do 'em any justice. You'll only get to know 'em when you see those two face to face.”

Minnie blinked – until this moment, and she realized in hindsight it was rather silly she hadn't come to this conclusion before, she didn't realize she'd be meeting his parents. Logically, she'd have to – Mickey refused to use her wishes, and turn her into a mortal, until they were freed. That would mean Mickey being right there with his parents, and Minnie, naturally, at his side. Could she face the former villain that fathered Mickey without seeing his face soaked in blood? And what of the beautiful mother, who Mickey would naturally judge all women against? Would they approve of such a girl being with their prince? “I... suppose you're right,” she finally said. “I won't know them until I meet them... and they won't know me until they meet me.”

Mickey nodded, but then paused for thought. “... Actually, since my Ma has that Eye thing, maybe she already knows you! Going by what Daisy said, all she said is a name to keep tabs on folks, and since she has my name, she has to know all of yours!” To Mickey, this was of great comfort. His parents could see how far in his journey he'd come, how much he'd grown and learned, about the amazing friends he'd made, and about the girl he had fallen for. No doubt they'd seen the horrors he committed against the Grimwolds, but surely they'd also seen his remorse and his efforts to change.

Minnie wasn't as pleased. “I'm... I'm sure she hasn't seen everything!” she said quickly, cheeks beginning to redden. “I'm sure she's so focused on where she is and what's going on that she doesn't watch us that often!” Like when Minnie threw a hissy fit about Lotus Blossom, or when Minnie did those ridiculous cheers in Rumansy, or when Minnie yelled at Mickey at the amusement park, or last night when Minnie WASN'T GOING TO DO ANYTHING TO MICKEY WHEN HE WAS SLEEPING!!!! “...I don't think your parents will like me that much.” Could her master please wish up a rock for her to crawl under and die?

“Aw, don't be silly!” Mickey lightly slapped Minnie on the shoulder, oblivious as usual to her inner panic attacks. “Everyone loves you, who wouldn't? I bet right now my folks practicing all kinds of silly welcomes to say when we rescue them.” Although now that he thought about it, he did kind of hope to get to his parents before Minnie did and beg them not to gush about his first romance. Minnie needed to be eased into his parent's strange ways, not be given the full blast right away. Still, he had faith that his mother and father would adore Minnie and gleefully welcome her to their palace life. He could already picture his mother wanting to dress Minnie up in dozens of dresses to see what suited her best while his father shared humiliating stories of Mickey's childhood. Minnie would be in a better life with freedom to do as she pleased, where she pleased, with who she pleased. Father, Mother, Mickey, Minnie, and Pluto, all together as one happy family. This gave him such happiness he couldn't stop smiling.

At least not until he was in the dining room and saw everybody's glum faces around the table – save for Daisy, who had propped herself up in Goofy's seat again, her pipe unlit in her beak. Mickey looked around, surprised that the energetic crew seemed so despondent, their bodies sagging over the table, eyes worn out, heads hung low. “Some kinda morning greet this is!” Mickey said loudly, getting their attention. “What, did somebody die?”

Somehow that little joke seemed to make things infinitely worse, as they now swiftly turned their heads away from him, Clarabelle clutching her stomach and Jose eating his cigar instead of smoking it. “Sheesh, tough crowd.” Mickey mumbled as he walked over and pulled out his chair. The breakfast meal seemed very small this morning, as if whoever had made it – Horace – imagined the crew wouldn't have much an appetite. Mickey shrugged off the oddness and began to eat after sitting. “So, Daisy, where's the next map piece again?”

Daisy straightened up, popping the pipe out of her mouth. “The Cave of Wants. It's located deep within a maze of caverns, a dangerous trap that has ensnared thousands of lives.” She pressed her fingers together, forming a triangle shape. “Legend has it that the gods once possessed a mirror showing them their greatest desire, but after a war with mankind, the mirror fell down to earth and shattered, creating the cave. Thus, whoever goes within will find what they've always wished for... but they can never leave! They are trapped by their greed, following the twists and turns of the cave until they die! Many have entered, determined to take the pieces of the mirror outside with them and sell them for infinite riches. After all, there are many who would love to see their wishes granted without doing any of the work. Hundreds of adventurers have braved the caverns for this fortune... but none have succeeded! Many call it the Cave of Death, because once you go in... you are never seen again!”

Even though the majority of the crew was still weighed down by the retelling of Scheherazade's fame, Daisy still managed to their attention with her excellent story-weaving skills, and a fresh wave of excitement and fear sailed through bodies... except for Donald, who was extra bitter from the night before. “Wait a minute,” he pointed out, “If nobody's made it out alive, then how does anybody know what's in there in the first place?”

Perhaps a day ago, or maybe even long before that, Daisy would have come up with a terribly witty lie about being connected to the gods, but the acid in Donald's tongue so burned her that her creativity faltered. “Because shut up, that's why.” What was she so upset about? This is exactly what she wanted. She wouldn't be surprised if the crew would find a way to keep her off the ship and sail away without her once the map had been attained. They'd be better off without her, and she'd find new entertainment to keep her busy. She'd done it dozens of times before, what made this so different? “Listen, when have I ever been wrong?”

Everyone's hands went up.

“...Okay, when have I ever been wrong about something that was important?”

Their hands stayed up.

“You guys are no fun.”

Goofy cleared his throat, ready to take over before things went belly-up. “This cave sounds like pretty bad business, so we have to stick together. What if we got a piece of rope and tied ourselves altogether with it?”

“Captain, we love you,” Clarabelle said as gently as she could, “but we can't trust you not to trip, tumble, or otherwise make sixty knots in sixty seconds.”

“Thirty seconds.” Horace felt the need to add.

Goofy conceded the point. “Guess we'll just have to hold onto each other... and we can't distracted. No split-ups, no running off, no going away without telling anyone, no matter what you see or hear.”

“... Why is everyone looking at me?” Mickey asked after Goofy had made his clear instructions.

Clarabelle sucked in air through her teeth. “Mickey, how can I put this delicately...”

“You can't,” Horace quipped, earning a kick to the shin.

“You do have a tendency to go into 'Hero Mode',” Daisy answered, making quotes with her fingers, her snake copying with his tail. “And the cave might use that against you. It might show you an illusion of a girl being robbed by vicious thieves, or Minnie misplacing her clothes-”

“DAISY!”

“-so we just need you to tone it down a notch.”

Mickey mercifully ignored the bait. “Okay, okay, so maybe at times I look before I leap... But I promise, that won't happen this time. We'll stay as a group from the beginning to the end until we find the map piece! And since we all have different desires, we can't all get fooled by the same thing. There will always be someone to snap us back into reality.”

Donald turned his back toward Daisy, intending on ignoring her as much as possible, though this also pained him. “And I've gotten much better at controlling my powers! I can just smash those mirrors with my lightning! I won't let any of you get caught...” He then cast a hateful side-glance at Daisy, unable to help himself. “Because I actually care about all of you.”

Daisy smirked, her newest mask the strongest one yet. “How sweet of you. Just try not to get too emotional in there, being drowned in a cave via raindrops would be such a disappointing way to die.”

Mickey looked back and forth between Donald and Daisy, seeing a battle of glares playing out before him, and he leaned toward Panchito, whispering, “Say, uh, did I miss something?” Last he checked, Donald usually went out of his way to defend Daisy, and her taunts towards him were much more playful. All of a sudden they were now bitter enemies.

Panchito was a terrible liar, as evidenced by his long, desperate “Ummmmmmmm,” as his eyes bounced all over the room. “I cannot recall missing anyone or anything or anywhere! Jose, friend among friends, do you remember missing or being missed?”

Jose at this point had eaten more of his cigar than his breakfast. “Panchito, whose glory is only matched by your bravery, if something was missing, we would find it, and if we're not finding anything, then nothing is missing!”

Mickey wondered why he ever bothered asking the two strangest members of the crew about anything ever. “I give up.” Adventure couldn't be started on an empty stomach, so he started to eat, and the heavy air continued to hang all around them. Most of the crew decided that nothing could be done about it.

But Panchito Pistoles and Jose Carioca would not let this stand. After Mickey had questioned the change in Donald and Daisy's behavior, Jose looked at Panchito, and Panchito looked at Jose. With a silent nod, they understood each other at once. They were simple birds with simple needs, and whenever they devoted themselves to something, it got 110% of their energy. Donald's happiness was 120% devotion, and how could they live with themselves if they couldn't help their dear Donald? They couldn't suddenly find his family, but perhaps the cave would give them something else to work with. They would find a way to fix everyone's sadness, Donald's first and foremost! He was their third Caballero! Their brother from another mother! Their mister who was an A-Lister! And so as they ate their breakfast, they plotted and planned, not once thinking about any desires of theirs that would show up in the cave.

~*~

As usual, Pluto was instructed to stay behind and guard the ship, though at this point Mickey believed there was little point in doing this. Not once had anyone aside from a crew member tried to climb aboard, and any treasure that could be stolen wasn't something that carried a lot of personal value. Mickey thought about this as they sunk their anchor in the deep, rich red sand below and how much he'd used his parents gifts – the pup and the rug. The rug hadn't gotten much use since day one, but then it was such a hefty thing that carrying it around everywhere seemed ridiculous. Why, out of all the gifts to prove her Eye was real, did Scheherazade give him the flying carpet? What other secrets was she hiding?

The sand was soft underneath as they walked, and there was a scent of old clay breezing by them. The land beneath them became steeper as they continued, almost as if they were heading toward the underworld or the lair of Hades. Heavy clouds drifted above their heads, blocking out the sun and erasing the shadows. It was because of this they almost didn't see the cave at first – but when they did, the group collectively gulped.

Instead of being attached to a mountain or hill, the gaping mouth of the cave opened up from the ground surrounded by nothing, except for a woman in heavy robes waiting expectantly. The rocky surface of the cave was darker than the shadows, darker than any night, and even as they squinted they couldn't see anything inside the open hole. Only two stalagmites hung from the rim of the entrance, glassy and clear in appearance, making the entire cave appear as if it was a hideous beast waiting for its next meal.

“Could use a nice 'welcome' mat,” Horace said dryly, and only his wife's iron grip prevented him from retreating.

The woman took her time to approach them, her face difficult to see given how large her gray hood was. Black hair spilled out from her shoulders, and her arms were linked together in her long sleeves. Once she was in front of the crew, she bowed respectively. “Captain Sinbad, Son of Scheherazade... I welcome you to the Cave of Wants.” Mickey thought her voice sounded familiar, but couldn't place it right away. “I am here to guide you.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows, surprised. It would be nice to have a little bit of help, but this was too good to be true. “Well, gee, miss, we'd love to have you along, but... how'd you know who we were?”

The woman then chuckled, suddenly sounding much younger than she was pretending to be. “Who could ever forget you... Big Ears?” As if that infamous nickname wasn't enough to jar all their memories, the woman slid her hood down, revealing -

“Lotus Blossom?!” Mickey, Minnie and Donald all shouted together, mutually horrified. Goofy merely blinked, remembering her but not terribly worried.

Clarabelle grabbed Daisy by her ponytail and spun her around. “You knew she was gunna be here, didn't you?”

“I did not,” Daisy said with an unconvincing grin. She had never heard of a guide for the cave before now, but why question something this hilarious? “Maybe the cave got ahead of itself and granted my wish to see Mickey's ex-girlfriend for myself!”

“SHE IS NOT MY EX-ANYTHING!”

Minnie shoved Mickey aside in order to confront Lotus directly, who had been laughing at all these reactions. “You! What are you doing here? Trying to trick my Master again?”

Lotus merely smiled, bending over to match Minnie's height. “It's so nice to see you again too, oh girl who Mickey finds uncomfortable to kiss.”

“THAT'S NOT WHAT HE MEANT!” Much like the last time Lotus drove Minnie crazy, Donald put himself in charge of hoisting Minnie up in his arms to make sure no further trouble was caused. “WE CAN'T TRUST HER! YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY MASTER! PUT ME DOWN!”

Goofy, sensing this might go in circles for a while, took Minnie's place. “You said you're here to guide us, Lotus Blossom? How come?”

Lotus stood up straight, clearing her throat to give a more dignified response this time. “Well, once I served my time for theft, I decided to turn over a new leaf. The last guide to the Cave was retiring, so I took her place. It's my job to get people in and out of the cave safely, but I can't always guarantee it. So if you want to go in there, you'd better be prepared.” She turned toward the cave, her open hand gesturing to the fang-like rocks atop. “Once the illusion catches you, you'll forget everything else. Drinking, eating, sleeping... It'll give you what you want most, and that's a very hard temptation to resist.” As she motioned with one hand, she kept her other hidden in her sleeve, fingering something small and shiny. “Do you all think you have the strength to overcome it?”

Mickey thumped his fist to his chest, trying to ignore his earlier outbursts. “I know we have it! As long as we work together, there's nothing we can't do! Right, guys?” he turned around, expecting to see a sea of triumph, but his enthusiasm was quashed as he watched Minnie rant and rave in Donald's arms, Daisy arguing with Clarabelle and Horace about how much she really knew about this place – so she didn't know about any guide, what was the big deal? - Panchito and Jose still trying to come up with a plan for Donald's happiness and just up and ignoring everything else, and Goofy had somehow tripped while standing up. “... Uh. We're usually better than this. It's an off day.”

More importantly, Mickey faced Lotus Blossom again, hands on his hips. “Well, I still trust them, but what about you? Are you really on the up and up?” The sting of her deceit still burned, even if ultimately she had been a good lesson for him about going head-first into trust and trouble. “How do we know you're not trying to pull another fast one on me?”

“What could I possibly do this time?” Lotus shrugged, still keeping her one hand hidden. “I'm outnumbered! Even if you go along with it, the rest will keep an eye on me so there's no way I could try anything. Can't a girl get a second chance?”

Mickey “hmm”ed about this for a moment longer, arms crossed and fingers strumming. Those were fair points, and wasn't Mickey the ultimate result of someone giving a criminal a second chance? In the end, they needed the map piece, and a guide would be better than having nothing. With a defeated sigh, he offered his hand to shake. “All right, but no funny tricks! We're here on very serious business! There's an item in the cave we need, and if you can help us get it, I'll forgive you for playing me last time.”

“Done deal,” Lotus Blossom chirped, taking Mickey's hand and shaking it... then yanking him down and kissed his nose. “There! Not quite what I wanted last time, but it'll do.”

Donald slapped his hand over Minnie's mouth to keep in her newest scream, though she was getting harder to hold. Daisy tittered. “I like this girl.”

“You would,” Horace huffed.

“Then let us be off!” Lotus announced, as Mickey quickly rubbed his nose clean. “Everyone stay together, and we'll make this trip as quick as possible! Follow me.” The group began to walk, with Minnie quickly breaking out of Donald's grip and making sure to keep Mickey away from Lotus Blossom. Panchito and Jose hung to the back, and while they hadn't said much to the group, that hadn't meant they weren't listening.

“My dearest and most darling Panchito,” Jose said, using his latest cigar to act as a torch. “I have a conundrum.”

“What puzzles you, and what can I do to help you most?” Panchito asked, moving his guitar onto his back.

“I wonder, you see, how Lotus Blossom knew that we were coming. She didn't seem surprised at all to see us. And to think she would have this exact job at this exact time at this exact location, that is a lot of coincidences piled up together.”

Panchito stroked his chin, now just as intrigued as Jose was. “It seems to me that whenever there are a lot of coincidences piled up together, there are no coincidences piled up at all. That would suggest something else is going on.”

“An excellent deduction! What could that something else be?”

“I have no idea. Isn't that fun?”

Clarabelle jabbed her thumb backwards, unable to hear the birds directly but knowing they were yammering about something or other. “What are those two going on about?”

“Probably how much they love each other,” Donald said with a shrug. “Or me. Or music. Or girls.” He didn't give it too much thought or worry.

As they entered the blackness of the cave, the group huddled together to make sure they wouldn't separate as it became difficult to see where they were going. Goofy linked arms with Horace and Clarabelle, as did Panchito with Jose, and Mickey with Minnie. Daisy felt Donald's arm begin to slink around hers and she violently pulled it back. “Hey!” Donald whispered, hoping it wouldn't turn into an echo across the cave. “I'm just trying to help!”

“I don't recall asking for your help,” Daisy replied snidely, rubbing her arms as the cave began to grow cold without the sun's natural warmth. “We went on about Mickey going into Hero Mode, but you have it just as bad.”

“What do you have against people being nice to you?” Donald growled, finding it harder to see Daisy's shape.

“Because when Nice People help Bad People, they get hurt, and I am a Bad Person. Flintheart should have taught you that first and foremost.” Now she was going too far, but she couldn't stop herself, not if Donald wouldn't learn. “You're nothing but a stupid, spoiled brat who has no idea how the real world works. You should do your family a favor and give up looking for them, because they're better off not finding you.” She drew a breath, stunned at her own words, and for the briefest pause in time, perhaps for the first time in her life, she considered actually apologizing. She hadn't meant it – she rarely meant most of her lies. She could hear the footsteps of everyone going forward, but Donald's had stopped.

Yell at me, she thought. Lose your temper again. Let it all out. Say you hate me. Say you never want to see me again. But Donald said nothing.

“Hey, look!” Mickey's cheerful voice loudly burst out, delighted at what he could finally see. “There's light!”

Just as Mickey said, in the distance there was a hue of rich blue, and as they approached it, they could see clumps of blue goop sticking to the walls and ceiling, surrounded by smaller wriggling blues. All of them glowed brilliantly, giving enough illumination to see their friends and their surroundings. Minnie held up her hand, watching the color on her fingers, amazed by such a sight. “What are these things? It's all so pretty!”

“I think these are glow-worms!” Goofy plucked one off the wall to see it for himself, letting it crawl around his knuckles. “Get enough of these little fellas together and they can light brighter than any torch! If the entire cave is like this, we'll have no problem findin' the next piece of the map.”

“Don't get ahead of yourself,” Lotus Blossom warned. “There's still one vital thing you all need to do if we want to go any further in the cave. I need all of you to understand how serious this. You have to do one big, important thing.”

As expected, now all eyes were on Lotus Blossom, with Mickey frowning. “Well, what is it?”

“Look here.” Lotus Blossom took out her hidden hand, and there was a bright, harsh flash -

Mickey rubbed his fists into eyes – that smarted! He was going to see spots for ages! “What was that for?” he asked aloud, already getting the sense something bad had happened. “Sheesh... this is no time for tricks, Lotus Blossom, we have to keep moving! Just remember everyone, we have to stick together, we cannot be separated!” He turned around to remind everyone of this -

And found himself all alone.

“Well..there's no way they can blame me for this one,” Mickey quietly said to himself.

#disney #fanfic #the son of scheherazade #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #goofy #donald duck #daisy duck #horace horsecollar #clarabelle cow #panchito pistoles #jose carioca

9 notes · View notes

fedine · 6 years

Note

Answer all of them

Under a cut! This is a long one!!

1: Do they drink coffee?

I don’t think so; though I do think he enjoys the occasional Starbucks drink.

2: Are they left or right handed?

Right handed!

3: How do they do their hair? Facial hair? (If they have it)

His hair is super long! I’ve seen some pictures of him where he has it tied back, but not too many more recently. It looks messy but it is really really cute! I want to brush it or just run my fingers through it a lot. He also does grow some of his facial hair out! I like it a lot.

4: What’s their favorite animal?

Well, going off his fursona, I’m going to go with a wolf.

5: What is their relationship status?

Taken by me!

6: What is their favorite band/singer?

A weird thing about our relationship is that we don’t really talk about or share music too much, but we know we have similar music tastes! I also know he likes Death Grips.

7: Are they more a cat or dog person?

Dog person!

8: What does their laugh sound like?

Ohh, gosh! I love his laugh so much! He also has several of them, ranging from: “This is a horrible picture and I’m showing it to you now,” “This is a horrible picture and I’m NOT going to show it to you,” and my personal favorite is his really really loud laugh he does when some meme he sees gets really weird/bad or we keep adding onto it ourselves.

9: Do they know multiple languages? Which ones?

He used to take French, so he knows a little bit, but he isn’t fluent.

10: How old are they? How old are you?

He is just a year younger than me. 13 months, to be exact!

11: One word that describes them.

I can’t possibly choose one word, but honestly my favorite one to describe him as is “warm” because I see it in his eyes in pictures he sends and when we video chat. He makes me feel like I’m at home with him, even if we’re so far apart.

12: Do they have any pets?

A German shepherd mix named Winston! I hear him a lot in the background of our calls.

13: What is their favorite TV show?

He really liked Bojack Horseman! He binged it around the time we got together. We also like watching shows together that we never finish… Though, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood was one we did finish, and we both loved it! He also really likes Dragonball Z, and Bleach!

14: What is their favorite movie?

Oh, that’s a hard one because he REALLY likes movies and film theory and stuff, but I’m pretty sure it’s a Marvel movie. He also told me one time that he likes Studio Ghibli movies a lot, but he talks about Marvel movies a lot more.

15: What car do they drive?

He does not drive.

16: What ethnicity and/or nationality are they?

He’s Australian!

17: Where did you meet them?

I met him online, after he joined my guild in World of Warcraft. I had been a member for a year already, and I believe I had just gotten back from an extended break from Horde side. He was very new to the game, and also very shy at first, but he joined up with us because he wanted to try role play, as well as raiding. He was at a large, server-wide event that I went to as well, but it took him a while to get into the Discord voice chat. He’s very shy! Once he got in though, we hit it off really well! Soon we had begun to spend nearly every waking moment together. Also, we haven’t stopped doing that. It’s been about a year since we started that.

18: What was your first meeting like?

Would you believe me if I said it was almost an argument? I’d been healing a long time, and he loved to tank, so we each thought our own roles were the most important in a raid/dungeon environment. “A tank keeps the mobs off the healer, so they aren’t overwhelmed;” “A tank won’t last long without a healer.” Well, now we know that both of the roles are much weaker on their own, and they are only really at their peak when they have the other with them. Still, that has not stopped him from saving the raid in huge manners as he’s the last tank alive and the boss is at 1% HP. Of course, I’ve saved the raid too, just in much more subtle manners!

19: What is their zodiac sign? Are your signs compatible?

I’m a Virgo and he’s a Libra. So, yes, I do believe that they are!

20: What month is their birthday?

October! That was already my favorite month of the year before I even met him!

21: What is your favorite outfit on them?

Whatever he’s most comfortable in!

22: Are they good texters?

He’s very good! He’s a quick typer, and messages me “Good morning!” if I don’t get to it first every day! He types with the correct capitalization, too, which I find very cute for some reason, but that may be just because it’s him.

23: Your favorite feature about their appearance.

Oh, hmmm… I love the way he looks, and it’s hard to choose just one thing. His eyes, maybe? I did already go over that, as well as his hair… You know what, I’m going to keep talking about his eyes. They’re two beautiful shades of blue, and every time he sends me a picture of him I can see how much he loves me in them, and sometimes I have to make an effort to not be overwhelmed by it. In a good way!

24: Your favorite thing about their personality.

He’s a big sweetheart, and a huge goofball! He knows how to make me laugh and feel better whenever I’m not in a good mood.

25: Do they make you laugh?

Every single day!

26: Do you make them laugh?

Yes, I do! We have very similar senses of humor. Sometimes it’s awful. I love it all the time, though!

27: Are they good huggers/ kissers?

Even though we’re long distance, yes. He is, and I know he is.

28: What is your favorite “flaw” that they have?

He’s a degenerate. It’s really funny though. I love how chaotic he is.

29: Are they nice to strangers?

He is VERY shy, but yes, he is! He’s extremely sweet and kind.

30: What is the funniest thing they have ever said?

Honestly, he’s just the funniest person ever and makes me crack up every single day. Sometimes he just randomly says whatever comes to his mind. Today I really liked his joke about that redesign for the new Incredibles movie. Something about weed. We’ve been making a lot of weed jokes today.

31: Saddest?

Also from today: he didn’t know what a buffalo was. He thought they were different from bison. I was eating buffalo jerky from 5 years ago and he thought it was a brand of jerky. He also thought they were extinct.

32: Weirdest?

Literally any vore joke he has ever made.

33: Cutest?

Gosh, just trying to pick one thing is so difficult... But when he tells me he loves me and how he can’t wait to see me? When he tells me about dreams he has with me in them? It makes my heart melt.

34: Ever dreamt about them? What happened in the dream?

Recently I posted about a dream I had about him and I just kissing each other. Nothing super exciting sounding, but gosh, I want to experience it so bad.

35: How tall are they? How tall are you?

I am... 5′4″... He is... 6′5″...

36: Do they have a booty?

I do not know. He has only sent me selfies of just his face or completely front facing. I can only assume. Doesn’t matter though!

37: What are their hobbies?

Video games. He really likes World of Warcraft (of course!), Fallout: New Vegas, Grand Theft Auto V, Elder Scrolls Online, Overwatch, Quake Champions, and Pokemon!

38: What are their talents?

He’s has amazing reflexes, honestly. He uses them for gaming, and because of it, he’s amazingly good at just about any game he plays.

39: What would your dream date be with them?

A physical one, where we are next to each other.

40: Does anyone know about your crush/love?

I make it a point to make sure everyone knows.

41: What do you guys have in common?

Pretty much everything, really. From sense of humor, taste in music, and favorite video games for the most part. We also share the same sexual orientation, and we have yet to disagree on politics.

42: Do they go to the gym?

No, but he exercises just about every day! If he doesn’t do a whole bunch of jumping jacks his legs start to get sore.

43: Do they go by their given name?

Yes and no. Since we’re in a World of Warcraft guild, we both go by screen names, so no one there calls him his real name but me. Same thing with just about everything online, though. Other than that though, he does.

44: What is their favorite color?

He really loves orange! Orange and white is one of his favorite color schemes. It makes me think of orange creamsicles!

45: How far apart do you live from them?

About 572 miles-- roughly an eight and a half hour drive.

46: What song reminds you of them?

Boats and Birds by Gregory and the Hawk

47: Do they listen to a lot of music?

I think so, but I think he listens to more random YouTube videos than anything.

48: What do they smell like?

He gave me his jacket for Valentine’s Day, and when I first got it I just held it up to my face and smelled it for a good while because it was the first time I got to experience what he smelled like. I can’t really describe his scent, because I’m not good with words in that way, but I just know that it’s my favorite scent in the whole world.

49: If they were in a book (protagonist or antagonist or supporting character, up to you) how would the writer describe them?

If it were up to me, I would describe him as accurately as possible. Still, I only really know his personality the best, so that’s what I would describe the most. I think he would be a protagonist, as well. He’s my protagonist, anyway.

50: How often do you see them?

We talk every day-- I’m talking to him right now! But as for actually seeing him, I look at every picture he has sent me of himself every night. There’s about... 22 of them that I have, including a video, but there’s one I missed of him in Australia in a “had to do it to em” pose. I’m still sad I lost that one.

51: The last text/ message they sent you?

It was a Sorlag skin from Quake Champions. As for a text message from Discord, it was a “Call me!”

52: The last thing they said to you in person?

53: What is the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you in front of them?

I once said “Heal, boy!” to him while we were leveling in WoW together because his health was low and he wasn’t paying attention, but it came off as “Heel, boy!” like he was a dog... The more embarrassing bit though about it was that one or two of our friends were there as well.

54: Do they have any tattoos or piercings?

To my knowledge, no, but I seriously doubt it.

55: What color are their eyes?

Blue gray!

56: What is their clothing style?

Comfortable: jeans and graphic T-shirts! That I plan to steal...

57: What is one thing that makes them really special?

Literally everything about him. He’s the most special person to me, and I love him for every single thing.

58: Will you tell your crush your feelings?

Alright, gonna be honest, I'm a bi wlw, and I was content to never say a damn thing about any feeling I ever felt, so I’m thankful every day that he did, because I was very ready to take my feelings to the grave and pine after him forever.

59: How long did you know them before you started falling for them?

Probably like a day or something. It didn’t take long to start liking him-- even when we were alone in the server voice chats that day I felt comfortable around him.

60: Was there a defining moment when you knew you liked them?

Sort of! I don’t remember the exact details, but I do remember messaging one of my best friends about it immediately. I was pretty vague about it to her. Something like: “Yeah, I think I’m in love with someone in the voice chat...” And she knew immediately who. I guess I was obvious, though.

#gem-licker #bf tag #surprise! he made me answer everything anyway!

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sonnets-and-snowdrops · 7 years

Text

Saiyuki Inktober 2017, Day 11 - “Smoke,” Version II: Expanded/Alternate Version

Fandom: Saiyuki Pairing: 10K Rating: T Word Count: Approx. 1500 seriously I’m not even gonna pretend that most of these are drabbles anymore I give up Author’s Note: First off - reading the author’s note in this post will probably clarify a few things. In addition to that, I’d also like to add that these fics don’t really take place in the same timeline. Or, rather - I guess they’re both set in the Gaiden-verse, but beyond that, they’re not really related at all. Pretty much, I just couldn’t make up my mind about what I wanted to do with this prompt - I had the general idea figured out, but couldn’t come to a conclusion I liked regarding the specifics - so, I wrote two completely separate fics. I mean, I did re-use a few turns of phrase (which you’ll notice if you read both, and frankly, I won’t apologize for that, because these are two versions of the same story anyway) but other than that, they’re completely separate, as far as I’m concerned. You’ll see what I mean if you read both, I think. Also, full disclosure - I’m not a smoker, so, despite my best efforts, I might get a few sensory details wrong here. But I mean the cigarettes are really just vehicles for inevitable sexytimes anyway so really I’m not sure it matters that much hehehe Also also, pretty sure Tenpou is my new all-around Saiyuki fave. I mean, he’s not wrong. He really is kind of a mess. … *whispers* I like angst, you guys. …anyway, enjoy! :D

The second they burst out of the stuffy, stifling conference room, Kenren sticks his arms high in the air, stretching tall, and lets out a great, grateful sigh. “Man,” he says, dropping his arms down to his sides and leaning, hard and heavy, against the wall. “I thought that was never gonna end.”

“Too true,” Tenpou agrees, rolling his neck one way, and then the other, releasing tiny, tension-bred clicks and cracks as he eases his stiff muscles. “I fully understand that the redistribution of resources bears discussing - but for fuck’s sake, after three hours, you’d think we’d have made more progress - ”

“All thanks to the most high and worthy Li Touten-sama, of course - ”

“Too true again,” Tenpou says darkly. “He should know better than to interfere with matters like this.” He scowls, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat. “It has nothing to do with him. He should learn his place.”

“I figure he’s still falling back on his family’s influence, right?”

“Which,” Tenpou says, “isn’t what it once was. He knows that. And so,” he adds, his voice tight and clipped, “do we.”

“Eh.” Kenren shrugs, and fishes around inside his uniform, searching for his smokes. When he finds them, he pops open the box, clamps one cigarette between his teeth, and draws it out, long and slow. He lights it, and he breathes in, and he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, savoring taste of the tobacco on his tongue. “I don’t feel like thinkin’ about that guy any more than I have to,” he says after he exhales. “Ain’t worth it.”

“Mm,” is all Tenpou says to that.

Kenren shoots a sideways glance at his friend. Tenpou still has his hands crammed in his pockets, and, weirdly, he’s suddenly gone all fidgety. He’s looking down, and even though his face is almost completely hidden by that unkempt hair of his, Kenren can see the way his jaw is working, clenching hard. His glasses have begun to slip down his nose, but he makes no effort whatsoever to push them back into place.

“Yo,” Kenren says, speaking softly, and treading lightly. He’s seen this before; he’s well aware that Tenpou is treading the dangerous, delicate line between repressing his frustration and snapping into a full-on, full-blown rage. “What’s up?”

Tenpou lets out a snarl of exasperation. “I can’t find my cigarettes.”

“Oh,” Kenren says. He knows what that’s like. Wanting a cigarette and not being able to have one can give a guy a case of blue balls that’s worse than actual blue balls, as far as he’s concerned. “Did you - uh - maybe leave ’em in your other coat or something?”

At that, Tenpou whips his head sideways and pins Kenren with a cruel, unyielding stare. “I don’t know, Kenren,” he snaps. “If I knew where my cigarettes were, I wouldn’t be looking for them, now, would I?”

That shuts Kenren up pretty quick; it’s just not worth it, the way he sees it, to engage with Tenpou when he’s in one of these moods. At best, he’ll find himself on the receiving end of brutal, unfiltered insults, and at worst, he’ll end up getting his head sliced clean off his shoulders by the greatest katana master this side of Heaven.

Somehow, he doesn’t find either option particularly appealing.

And so, for a hot second, the two stand together in silence. Kenren, unwilling to let a good cigarette go to waste, smokes; Tenpou, unwilling to abandon his desperate quest, quietly rams his hands into his pants pockets. When that proves fruitless - or, Kenren amends, smoke-less - he withdraws his hands, crosses his arms, expels a long, hopeless sigh - one that strikes Kenren as just a little over-dramatic - and slumps against the wall, ostensibly defeated.

“One fucking cigarette,” Tenpou mutters. “Is that really too much to ask?”

“Y'know,” Kenren says, “if you didn’t hate Hi-Lites so much, I’d offer to let you bum one of mine.”

Tenpou freezes. His eyes flare, bright and hungry, at Kenren’s words. “You mean it?”

“Yeah. Of course I mean it, man. I just - ”

“Give me one.”

“You sure?” Kenren raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to let you have one - I just thought - ”

“I said, give me a cigarette, Kenren.”

“Okay, okay - if you’re sure - ”

“Don’t,” Tenpou hisses, his voice cold and deadly serious, “make me make that an order.”

Kenren can’t quite help himself; he flashes Tenpou a cheeky smile and, smooth and sly as he can, says, “Yes, sir.”

Before Tenpou, whose lower eyelids have started to twitch thanks to an unfortunate combination of anger and addiction and astigmatism, can respond, Kenren reaches into his jacket and busts out his smokes again. “Here,” he says, making damn sure to keep his tone gentle and earnest; the Field Marshal, he figures, has endured enough torture for one day. “You gotta light, or…?”

“Do you know what? I don’t think I do.” Tenpou’s eyes fall closed, and he laughs weakly. "I’m a mess, Kenren,“ he sighs, and Kenren finds himself oddly struck by the raw honesty that rings in Tenpou’s words. His eyes drift open again, and this time, when they lock onto Kenren’s, they’re surprisingly soft - they’ve turned a little bit sorry, a little bit sympathetic. And, Kenren sees, a little bit sad, too.

“Hey,” Kenren says. He pulls one cigarette out from his pack and sidling sideways along the wall, closing the distance between himself and Tenpou. “S'okay, man.” He sticks out his hand, offering Tenpou the cigarette.

Tenpou, for his part, only watches. His soft, sorry, sympathetic, sad eyes flicker back and forth behind his glasses, tracing Kenren’s actions with their customary precision, but he makes no move to take the cigarette. He looks kinda dazed, Kenren thinks - it’s as if the trials of the afternoon combined with the force of his recent realization have rendered him immobile, or turned him to some kind of strange, still-breathing stone.

That hits Kenren pretty hard, actually.

All of a sudden, it’s easy for him to see why a guy like Tenpou is always so willing to risk his own ass on the battlefield.

Kenren takes a quick glance left, and then right. “Hey,” he says again, infusing his gravelly, soldier’s voice with as much warmth as he can. “Don’t worry, okay?” And he smiles, hoping that a touch of warmth might show up in his gravelly, soldier’s face, too.

He tries his best to be matter-of-fact about this next part - and it goes pretty well, all things considered. His hand doesn’t shake when he lets it float gently up towards Tenpou’s face. There’s no quintessentially romantic tremble in his fingers when he, deft and quick, coaxes Tenpou’s mouth open with a sweep of his calloused thumb, and there’s no jittery moment of hesitation or uncertainty - not from either of them - when he lays the cigarette between Tenpou’s parted lips. It doesn’t feel awkward when he lights the cigarette for Tenpou, or when he feels Tenpou’s cool, controlled inhale ghost past his fingers, or when he senses the greedy, muscular shifting of Tenpou’s tongue as it tastes the torrid smoke. He even fancies he can feel the quiet power of Tenpou’s lungs, strong and hearty thanks to his many years spent shouting commands over the clamor of battle, when he sends his first long, lovesome stream of smoke drifting fast upwards. It whirls between Kenren’s fingers and makes hot, ashy spirals in the stagnant afternoon air.

Tenpou smokes the whole cigarette like that - with Kenren’s palm pressed just so against his chin, and Kenren’s fingers lingering just so before his lips. Kenren’s own cigarette smolders away, unsmoked and unheeded, in his mouth; somehow, Kenren finds, he doesn’t really care.

“So,” Kenren says, urging Tenpou’s mouth softly open with his thumb again and slowly slipping the butt of the cigarette out from between his lips, “I guess Hi-Lites aren’t as gods-awful as you remembered, huh?”

Tenpou, weary eyes dead closed again, shakes his head. “No,” he says. “No. They’re not.” A brief moment passes, and then Tenpou’s lips quirk into a tiny smile. “And - do you know what, Kenren?”

“Eh?” Kenren cocks his head sideways, intrigued. “What?”

“I believe,” Tenpou says, “it’s for the best that I learned as much.”

“How d'you mean? You got plans to forget your own smokes on a regular basis or something?”

“Hardly.” Tenpou opens his eyes, and, with an effort, pushes himself away from the wall. “I’ll see you in an hour for company drills, General,” he says, turning his back and striding down the corridor, away from Kenren. “Thank you for the cigarette.”

“Yo,” Kenren calls. “Yo, Tenpou - you didn’t answer my question.”

As he walks, Tenpou’s shoulders raise and lower in an easy shrug. “It’s simple,” he says, tossing the words lightly behind him. “I intent to kiss you one day, Kenren. I would hate it very much if I couldn’t tolerate the way you taste.”

#saiyuki #tenpou #kenren #10k #tenpou gensui #kenren taishou #kenren x tenpou #tenpou x kenren #inktober #fanfiction #fanfic #saiyuki fanfiction #saiyuki fanfic #saiyuki gaiden #inktober fanfiction #inktober fanfic #del writes things

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dvddggs · 7 years

Text

The Sirens’ Song

summary: it’s a pirate’s life for Washington and the crew, who run one of the most highly-feared pirate ships on the ocean. Struck by a recent tragedy and a new recruit they navigate the seas in an attempt to continue what they do best: pirating. When they are faced with the impossible task of choosing between loyalty to the crew and finding again what they once lost, will they make the right choice?

words: 3,068

a/n: hey, everyone! I had this wild idea for a PIRATE/MERMAID AU so here I am because, of course, I have nothing better to do than start another series, right (yikes)?? Anyways, I am pretty happy with how chapter one turned out and I’m pretty pumped about it! Please let me know what you think, feedback would be greatly appreciated, and if you liked it, be sure to reblog so other people can read TSS too! :)

tags: if you want to be tagged in upcoming chapters, shoot me an ask!

dedication: @sinmineral for helping me write this at 4AM last night lmfao thx my dude

The wind roars as the waves whip across the ship and soak the deck in a freezing, salty spray. The crew slides into the masts, frantically pulling at riggings and trying to navigate the ship around the storm.

“Someone needs to tend to the port-side mast! NOW!”

“On it, Captain!”

The crew is like a well-oiled machine. We trust our captain and obey orders without question. There is hardly an opportunity to panic because we synchronize so well.

The water begins to calm as we sail forward, the boat rocking back and forth dangerously fast over the remaining waves.

“Ahh,” the captain sighs with a small smile, letting go of the rigging that controls the largest sail. “Well done, everyone. It seems we’ve seen the worst of it for now.”

The crew and I give a small cheer, but we do not get too hasty—we still are not completely free of the bumpy waters.

“Should be smooth sailing from here on out, Captain Washington,” the lookout calls from the crow’s nest, putting away a spyglass.

With a curt nod, relief floods the captain’s face in the form of a warm smile.

“Aye! I think it’s high time we hit the hammocks. I’ll take first watch tonight. Seabury’s got supper ready for you in the galley. Go enjoy yourselves! And tomorrow, we find some gold!” 

The crew whoops and hollers as they head down for supper, laughing and telling our mates what went on at their post during the storm. I stay behind for a moment, lingering.

“Is something wrong, Hamilton?” Washington asks me. “If this is about—you know—the answer is still no. I’m sorry, but rules are rules.”

“Not at all, Captain.” I am lying and Washington knows it. “Just wanted to congratulate a job well-done.”

Washington grasps my hand and shakes it enthusiastically. We are close friends, having been sailing together since we were young. Something about sailing brings people together.

“Thank you, Eliza,” Georgia says to me. “Aye, another storm tackled. Save me a plate, will you?”

I nod and spin on my heel, straightening my jacket as I head down to the galley for my favourite activity: eating dinner and tormenting Seabury with my shipmates.

It is calm. Quiet. The waves rock the ship through the inky blackness of the night and the crew’s hammocks swing gently in time with the movement. The ropes which suspend them creak slowly, lulling the crew into the day’s first moment of relaxation. I can tell that everyone else is asleep—their breathing has steadied and one of them is even snoring. It is probably Angelica, but I can’t know for sure.

I enjoy these moments, alone in the darkness. I am free to think whatever I please, free to stare at the beams overhead if I so choose, free to do nothing. A rare treat.

“Hamilton.”

A whisper through the darkness.

A moment of silence.

“Reynolds.”

“You’re still awake.” The declaration slices harshly through the night. “I cannot seem to fall asleep.”

“Me either,” I reply softly. “Come here.”

I listen as the rough canvas of the hammock rustles and the floorboards creak, growing louder as Reynolds draws closer. I push the edge of my hammock out to allow my companion to slide in next to me.

“Maria,” I murmur in acknowledgement.

“Elizabeth.”

I can’t help but smile at the use of my first name—another rare occurrence. Wrapping an arm around Reynolds, I sigh into her hair, lost in a deep peace. Moments like these make me wish the night could go on forever, that we could stay like this until the end of time.

Washington, however, has strict rules about fellow crew members seeing each other. According to her it is bad for morale and only ever ends badly.

“It has been an eventful few days.” My voice drops to a whisper as I feel my eyelids grow heavy. “We need our sleep.”

I feel Reynolds nod against my chest. This is quickly replaced with a yawn.

“Sweet dreams, Hamilton,” she says softly. Her voice is like the smoothest rum—comforting, warm, and intoxicating. She is asleep before I can reply.

I brush a stray hair out of my companion’s face and smile sadly. She is the most recent addition to the crew, and is also the youngest. During one of our stretches on land last month, Washington found her prostituting on the streets for pennies a day. At eighteen, she had lost her family to an illness and when we found her only a year later, she was doing all she could to survive. Washington wouldn’t hear another word about it—she was to come with us. The promise was not of much, but she ensured Reynolds that we eat three square meals a day and that we take care of each other.

It did not take long for Reynolds and I to fall for each other. As Washington’s oldest friend and first mate of the ship, I was given the task of training Reynolds. At first I was not impressed, unsure of how a lowly wench could survive even a month with a bunch of pirates. Very quickly, however, my distaste was replaced with shock as I found Reynolds to be an extremely hard worker and constantly eager to learn.

It took me but a week to fall for her.

The first time we kissed was after the raid of a rival ship. She was nervous, having never so much as wielded a sword or a gun before in a real battle. She managed to not only survive but find the rivals’ loot as well. After we tied the pirates to their own ship, Reynolds and I, overcome with adrenaline, kissed on the gangplank connecting the raided ship and our own.

Immediately after that did Washington remind us of her rule about shipmate relations.

So here we lie in the darkness, our only companion the pale moon that lights the sleeping quarters. We cannot always lay together—in fact, we usually do not—but once in awhile, Reynolds will wake me in dire need of human contact.

We are understanding for the most part; we were all like that in the beginning. Over time, however, we began to forget the feeling, and the appeal of the feeling, so the need is lost. Because of Maria, I have begun to crave human contact again. I find it to be like a drug: you can wean yourself off of it, but once it returns, it is even harder to forget than the first time.

My eyelids are finally beginning to flutter shut as I drift in and out of consciousness, warmed comfortably by the girl who lays beside me. Reynolds’ breathing is calculated and deep, a testament to her exhaustion.

I match my breathing to hers and feel sleep threaten to take over my body when a sharp knock at the door rips me from my dreamlike state.

“LADIES! Up and at `em, c’mon!”

The hammocks around me begin to stir as Maria jumps frantically out of mine and back to her own before anyone can notice.

“What’s going on?” Schuyler mutters grumpily. Rule number one of the ship is to never wake Angelica unless it is an emergency. And from the tone of Washington’s voice, this is an emergency.

“Hurry up!”

I stand and stretch, pulling my pants, boots, and jacket on in a hurry. My shipmates follow suit and trail behind me up to the main deck where we line up and wait to be updated.

Washington’s pacing comes to a halt as she gazes at each one of us in turn. I swear I can see her eyes flicker from me to Reynolds and back, but it is probably my exhaustion-induced imagination.

“It must have been a navigational error,” Washington begins. I can hear the worry in her voice, which concerns me. It is out of character for her to get this concerned about something so quickly.

“What is happening, Captain?” I ask, stepping forward. My voice is strong but I let Georgia see the worry in my face. I need her to know that she is frightening me.

“Like I said,” Washington replies. Her voice is slower this time, more calculated. “It must have been a navigational error. It’s no one’s fault, really…it’s just that we—we’re approaching siren territory.”

I feel my throat drop into my stomach as I look round at the crew. Angelica’s eyes are wide. Her sister, Peggy, has taken a step back to lean against the mast. Reynolds is looking between us in shock.

“They’re real?” she whispers.

I nod slowly. “They’re real. And they’re dangerous.”

Behind me, I can hear the singing grow louder. I am enchanted. Despite my best efforts to drown it out, I cannot focus on anything but the song emanating from the sea, detached from any visible bodies. It is the sound of echoes, the sound of bells. As we stand on the deck, the moonlight illuminating our pale, scared faces, the singing grows louder. We know that, realistically, we will not be able to stop whatever is about to happen, but at the same time we know that we must try to fight.

I look over at Reynolds. She does not look as scared as the rest of us, but again, she’s never encountered the sirens before. Washington looks stressed. She spins around and rushes back to the Captain’s Quarters. I chase after her.

“Washington,” I call. “Captain! Georgia! Wait for a moment!”

The captain stops in her tracks and looks at me, eyes stormy and full of sadness.

“We must fight,” I say frantically. “Georgia, we have no choice. We won’t make it out of here alive.”

She studies my face and sighs. “Hamilton—”

“Captain, I know what happened was hard—trust me, we all still feel it. Every single day we feel it—but we need to get past this, okay? We’ve done it once. We can do it again. No casualties this time.”

Washington nods. She knows that I’m right.

“I miss Martha,” she whispers, resting her forehead on my shoulder. “Every goddamn day I miss her more, Eliza.”

Martha Dandridge. The reason for Washington’s rule against seeing shipmates. Dandridge was first mate aboard the ship, and she and Washington had planned to marry upon our next stop on land.

Before we could make it, however, we entered siren territory. Dandridge was taken captive by the sirens’ song. We still do not know what she heard that made her jump, but before Washington could stop her, she had fallen prey to the sirens’ endearing voices. We managed to escape to the nearest port by morning where we found and recruited Maria. I was made first mate, and none of us spoke about it again. Until now.

“We all miss her, Georgia,” I say gently, patting my captain’s shoulder.

“Right.” She nods, snapping herself free from her thoughts. “Well, let’s get out of here.”

I feel a smile tug at the corners of my mouth, pulling the door open for Washington. She walks swiftly back onto the deck and I follow closely behind her.

“Alright, mates,” Washington says. There is a renewed vigour in her voice which she harnesses to comfort us. “We need to get out of here as soon as we possibly can. Reynolds: you’ve never seen sirens before—it’s not going to be easy, we all know that—but we don’t have another choice, now do we?”

We shake our heads.

“Answer me when I speak to you or you’ll be downstairs swabbing the galley with Seabury. DO WE?”

“NO MA’AM,” we chant in unison.

Washington smiles. “That’s better. Okay. Little Schuyler! I need you in the crow’s nest. Keep eyes on the sirens. They usually travel in packs, so once we’ve passed them we should be in the clear.”

Peggy salutes and climbs up the ladder to her usual post.

“Big Schuyler. I need you at the helm. They're going to start churning the water so it’s not going to be easy. You’re going to have to steer us around the waves as best you can.”

“Yes, Captain!” Angelica salutes and takes hold of the spinning wheel, ready for further instruction.

“Reynolds!” Washington spins around to face Maria. “I need you on the rigging of the mainsail.”

Reynolds’ eyes widen in shock. “But—”

“No ‘buts,’ Reynolds! Do as you’re told. I cannot be trusted with it in siren territory. I’m too susceptible to their song.”

Reynolds gives an unsure salute as Washington exchanges a glance with me. I know what she is thinking. As Reynolds walks away, the captain approaches me.

“If they sing about Martha, Hamilton, I don’t know what’s going to happen.” There is a terror in Washington’s eyes that I’ve never seen before. “I won’t promise that I’m going to be strong enough to resist.”

I nod, understanding that it is pointless to argue or disagree.

“I’ve got you covered, Captain,” I say. “Always.”

Washington clears her throat and looks around at the crew. “POSITIONS. READY?”

“AYE, CAPTAIN.”

“Ladies, it’s going to be a long night, but let’s get the hell out of here.”

“AYE, CAPTAIN.”

We are thrown into the midst of hell. The ship is slammed against the waves created by the stirring sirens and we are knocked violently around with it.

“HAMILTON, MAN THE BOW,” Little Schuyler screams from her post. “THEY’RE CONGREGATING THERE!”

I sprint across the slick deck, pulling my gun from its holster. The singing gets louder as I halt at the front of the ship. Below me, I can see a group of sirens looking up at us. One gestures for me to follow him into the dark and unforgiving sea. They slice through the water with their fins, navigating easily the storm they are creating.

“I can’t get a good shot!” I call over my shoulder.

“JUST START SHOOTING,” Big Schuyler screams across the helm.

I return my focus to the sirens below, ready to shoot, when something stops me. There are four of them, all male, and they are smirking up at me. One of them is covered in freckles. His wet, curly hair cascades down his back in loose ringlets. The second and third ones have dark skin, one with short hair and one with a full head of wild, tight curls. They are both bigger than the other two and float behind them, as if they are bodyguards. The fourth one has shoulder-length black hair, which is pulled back with a ribbon, and a goatee. His smirk is the largest and the most endearing. I lose myself for a moment and watch as they begin to sing.

The sound is intoxicating. I feel as though I am wine-drunk as I let in the low and calming ring of their voices. It chimes through the whistling wind effortlessly and I am captivated.

We have discovered what you seek The freedom to keep what you love, and love what you keep Together we can help you, so anchors away You can be with your girl as long as with us you stay

I feel a smile grow on my face as I lower my gun, the warm image of Maria filling my mind. We can be together here…there does not need to be anymore hiding…they will let me love her…peace and hope blossoms through me like the most beautiful flower...

“REYNOLDS,” I say, stepping back from my post. She is watching me incredulously, mouth hanging open.

“What are you doing!?” she screams. “Get back there, Hamilton! We need to get the hell out of here!”

“But we can be together.” My voice falters. Does she not want this?

“HAMILTON.” Washington’s voice breaks me from my trance. I shake my head, which grows clearer with each passing second. “Get your head on straight! Switch posts with me. NOW.”

I take a deep breath and take over the rigging that Washington is tugging at. Though she looks strong, I can see her hands shake as she takes the gun from my outstretched hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” I murmur.

The captain nods, but I am not sure she believes me. She makes her way to the bow of the ship and takes my place. I cannot hear anything over the howling of the wind, but I can see that she, too, seems to be in a trance.

Then, without warning, she steps onto the railing.

“NO!” I hear my voice, but I do not realize that I am screaming. I see the rest of the crew tense up as they watch from their posts.

Me, I cannot stand by and watch. I let go of the rigging, which leaves the sail whipping through the air uselessly, and sprint across the deck, disobeying my orders.

“WASHINGTON, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?” My voice is quiet over the sound of the singing, which I can hear now, though to me it is just an endearing hum. I cannot hear the song they have reserved for her.

She turns to look at me, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“That’s the one,” she says, jabbing her thumb towards the siren with the shoulder-length hair. “He took Dandridge. She’s still alive, Hamilton. She’s still alive. She’s still alive…”

“Georgia, look at me.” I am frantic. She has one leg over the edge of the ship so I grab her hand. “Think about it. There’s no way Martha is still alive. You can’t do this—it’s suicide.”

“Still alive…she’s still alive…”

Washington’s eyes are full of wonder as she stares between myself and the sirens below. I watch her, tightening my grip on her hand as I start to pull her back. She seems to be complying when I hear another sound ring out from below.

I am soaked to the bone, shivering, as I feel Washington begin to slip through my wet hands.

“No, Captain, NO!”

I am too late. She glances at the crew, slides her hand free of my grasp, and dives headfirst into the ocean, where the group of sirens wrap their arms around her and pull her downward into the endless darkness of the sea.

The last thing I can see is her hand reaching upward.

The waters begin to calm.

#the sirens' song #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fanfiction #mermaid au #pirate au #hamilton mermaid au #hamilton pirate au

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