#or alligators when you splash water at the side of them. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

truecrimethirdeyeblind · 4 months

Text

TYLER DOYLE, MISSING DUCK HUNTER LITTLE RIVER, SOUTH CAROLINA 1/26/23

Everyone deserves for their story to be told; no matter who they are, if they are not here to tell it, they deserve to have a voice. With this blog, I hope to be that listening ear to that voice in the darkness and make sure that their story is broadcasted to the best of my ability.

Coastal South Carolina is filled with beauty and wonder; marshlands that support an entire ecosystem of fish and birds and other wildlife. The low country streams and rivers meander into lakes and slough off into swampy marsh filled with turtles and heron and cayman. In summer, the air is heavy with brine and still except for the sounds of crickets and tree frogs and splashes of alligators. Spanish moss drapes wanton like forest green curtains hung haphazardly over live oaks that stretch into the sultry southern sky.

There are wide expanses of beach, sand and dunes, beach grass bending to the wind in a cadence matching the ever present tides. The blue green Atlantic beckons like a siren, calling in surfers and swimmers and boaters and fishermen. On stormy days and the skies turn grey casting a pall on the cerulean sea as it churns into blue grey whorls; those are the days the sea claims them all for its own.

Every year, over 20 million people flock to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina to enjoy the sun and sand by day and by night there are hundreds of activities and adventures to choose from. There are aquariums, amusement parks, over 2000 restaurants, and more mini golf than you can shake a stick at. If you should you choose, you can even take a cruise on a casino boat and try your hand with Lady Luck.

But for every bit of paradise, there always seems to be a sinister side. For all that beauty and wonder, there is a matched darkness and evil. According to the FBI’s latest US Crime Report, Myrtle Beach, SC is now officially the 3rd most dangerous city in the United States (Charlotte Stories, 2019). These are high statistics and surprising because most would assume that larger cities like New York City or Los Angeles would fall highest on that list.

Crimes listed vary from murder to larceny to kidnapping. South Carolina Department of Natural Resources reported in 2022 (SCDNR.gov 2023) that missing persons cases went up by 131%. Again, these are high statistics and suggest that perhaps there is a trend given that crime in general is high in this city.

Just North of this crime mecca is North Myrtle Beach which ranked at number 30 on the same federal list. That is where this untold story comes in. North Myrtle Beach/Little River is some of the most beautiful raw nature on South Carolina’s coast. It boasts a small town running along the Intracoastal Waterway, rife with beautiful waterfront homes and sandy beaches that lead to the Atlantic. There are oyster beds on the intracoastal and long marsh-walks stretching across the vast waterways that course out to the Atlantic. The area is rich with history and family owned land dating back to the 1800s in the glory days of lumber mills.

On January 26, 2023, Tyler Doyle, a duck hunter from Loris, South Carolina went missing right there in Little River, South Carolina. As the story goes, he was going duck hunting that afternoon with a friend. He is said to have dropped the friend at the jetty rocks in order to go scare up some ducks to shoot. The friend calls 911 some minutes later stating that “I am in the ocean and my boat is drifting out into the ocean.” The 911 dispatcher asks for verification if anyone is hurt on the boat. There is a pause. He then states “I’m on the jetty rocks, Tyler, a buddy of mine; his boat is sinking.” He explains that Tyler had called him in distress and that the engine had cut off and the boat was taking on water.

The friend asks to hang up so that he may call Tyler and check on him. He has stated that he cannot see him any longer and that he had turned away and when he looked back, he was gone. The 911 dispatcher instructs him to hang up to call Tyler and call her right back. Several minutes pass and the friend calls back. On this second 911 call, he states that he was not able to reach him. Phone records later showed that he had not even attempted to call him. Instead, he had called a different friend for assistance stating that “If I need you, will you come.” Just tuck that little feather in your hat for later.

The 911 operator patches him through to the Coast Guard who is already on the way. He tells the dispatcher before the patch that he cannot see the boat. The dispatcher tells the caller that the Coast Guard should be there, as in they at least should be visible.

TLDR: The friend is picked up from the jetties by a rescue boat. He is transported to the landing. There is at first a report of two people being rescued, so there is momentary confusion. Did Tyler get rescued as well?

It turned out that he did not. A 911 call from a family member from that night reveals the anguish felt in learning that Tyler Doyle was indeed missing.

Remember that feather? Yeah, go ahead and pluck it out. At the landing, the friend who was with Tyler, now the sole witness of his disappearance, refused medical care even though he had to get in the water in order to be rescued by waiting officials. He denied treatment for potential hypothermia. He stated that he was waiting for his friend. Everyone assumed he meant Tyler, but he did not.

The friend that showed up, the one he had called instead of Tyler, was given possession of the gun and waders that was on his person during the time in question. No explanation was given for why these items were allowed to be removed by a civilian who then later refused to come to the station to give a statement. It was instead written by the lead investigator.

Hours pass, officials arrive and a search is made. It is suspended around 10:00 pm due to unfavorable conditions, stating that they would regroup in the morning.

Over the ensuing days and weeks, they searched over 600 square miles of ocean, all the way up into the Cape Fear River because some duck decoys had been found. Five days into the search, a family led search party found a pair of waders. They contained Tyler’s wallet with identifying information and cash. It is unclear whether the items were wet or dry; there is conflicting information that has been released at the time of this post. After that, the trail went cold. The search was officially called off after 43 days; ruled a boating accident and no foul play was suspected.

And yet there are questions. There are always questions when someone disappears but this case felt different to me so I stayed in tune. I began to research. I gathered my own evidence. I walked the beaches with which I was already so familiar. I had spent my entire life traveling to this area. And then I realize that is why this bothered me so much. I know the area like the back of my hand. The jetties are not some magical wall that occludes visibility. The friend should have been able to see Tyler at all times.

Immediately after Tyler went missing, posts began to circulate. Tyler Doyle Discussion groups began to form. These groups grew to over 100k in some instances. There was infighting in the groups. In the wake of no information being found and day after day, reports that Tyler had not been found, people started to speculate and it got a little crazy: Somebody came and stole somebody’s Daddy. Wild theories emerged. Tyler was in Mexico with a mysterious pop up go-fund me that grew to over 30K and was then cut off due to the speculations and criticism over the web-based charity pot. For a brief time, Tyler was thought to be on the run because he had been charged with attempted murder. On searching records, officials were immediately able to verify that those charges had been dismissed and expunged far prior to the incident in which Tyler went missing.

Family was not heard from during the early months of the search for Tyler and subsequent quest for answers. They started to speak up as their shock wore off and they have questions too.

The reports and statements submitted by the investigating body are sloppy and incomplete at best. However, it should be noted that this law enforcement agency is not designed to investigate foul play or even trained to recognize patterns or critical thinking in criminal situations. They are put in place to deal with land and endangered species preservation in times of accidents, give out gaming tickets and patrol the waterways for potential dangers.

Besides, it was a small Southern town. Everyone knows everyone; who could possibly want to hurt him? Living in the low country though, everything isn't as it seems sometimes. Not everyone has that idyllic white picket life.

As it turns out; things were not perfect in his life. There were echoes of marital strife with a baby on the way in a fairly new marriage. In June, the wife moved out of the home she shared with her missing husband; lawsuits were filed against her by Tyler’s family for allegedly removing items that she shouldn’t have. The case is still ongoing at the time of publishing of this post.

And what of the attempted murder charges which were said to be connected to a Snapchat argument between Tyler’s brother and some unknown individuals who later did not show up for the trial?

Could it have been a revenge killing? Did someone have something against Tyler? The bigger question in my mind was that I know duck hunters. When I ran this case by them, their first question was “why was he going duck hunting in the afternoon.” For myself, the area in question does not seem conducive to duck hunting. I’ve gone down there my whole life and again that’s why this case has always bothered e me.

There are more questions on this case than answers and as of December 5, 2023, SLED (South Carolina Law Enforcement Division) joined the case of missing Tyler Doyle. As of December 11, 2023; SLED officials picked up Tyler’s boat from SCDNR.

The family, the media, and thousands of interested parties now await what could be a months-long review of the investigation. Witnesses could be called back in for questioning and further statements could be needed in order to sort out the cloudy timeline of events surrounding the disappearance of this young husband and father to be.

I will be posting more about this case as it develops and filling in information that I have been able to find on my own. It has been nearly 11 months since Tyler went missing and Christmas is approaching. I am sure that his presence is dearly missed. Tyler is described as a thoughtful kind young man by all that knew and loved him.

We can only hope that answers are found soon and that Tyler can be found and laid to rest and his family and friends can gain some semblance of closure.

The question remains: What really happened to Tyler Doyle?

Roxy Jane Slater©

True Crime Journalist / Web Blogger

#true crime #missing persons #tyler doyle #scdnr #sled

12 notes · View notes

domesticated-feral · 1 year

Note

Oh oh, could you do something with Scott + Isaac + canoeing in the wilderness, pretty please?

I've only gone canoeing in the sea...since the seas all there is here. but it's fun! I went canoeing around a while before new years, although I didn't get to canoe at all... :')

anyways, here you go a tiny little ficlet of Scisaac canoeing!

---

“Stop rocking the boat!” Scott shrieked, dropping the oar he held into the water as he grips onto the boat's edges.

“I’m not trying to!”

Scott reaches down for the oar and the canoe tips alarmingly close to the water. Isaac pulls Scott back up in fear of the boat tipping over and pushing both of them into the water that may or may not have alligators.

“Dude, the boat’s gonna tip over! The alligators could get to us!”

“Isaac, there are no alligators in this river, the guy told us that earlier.”

“I don’t trust him, I don’t trust this murky water either,” he said, “ and I don’t want to lose a limb to some oversized lizard.” He added a while later.

Scott takes Isaac’s oar and uses it to push the boat toward the one floating in the river. Isaac picks it up, wasting no time at all to put it back on the canoe and his hands back to his side.

“Didn’t hear anything about this when we were at the dock,” Scott teases, “it was all ‘oh babe look, they offer canoeing at this campsite.’, ‘Why don’t we take a ride down the river on a canoe.’, and ‘We don’t need a guide, the water looks fine.’”

Isaac tries his best to look confused, “really? I don’t remember… are you sure the alligators didn’t get you?”

“Not as long as you’re with me.”

Isaac smiles, “yeah, I’d wack them with my oar if they tried to get you.”

“Yeah,” he said as his eyes flitted up and down.

Isaac huddles closer and Scott does too. Isaac pulls his body closer and they share a kiss. If the canoe would stop rocking the kiss would’ve lasted longer except both the oars slide over as the boat tips too far into the right and Scott in an attempt to stop the oars from falling pulls both he and Isaac into the water.

The last thing Isaac said before the water turned the words into air bubbles and muffles was ‘Scott’. He rises up to the surface to find Scott laughing, eyes crinkling at the edges, completely soaked. His bangs stuck to his forehead and the oars wafted between them.

Both he and Isaac bobbed on the surface without any trouble because of the life jackets they wore but Isaac couldn’t help but try his best not to look down as he tried to push himself back onto the canoe. He leans onto it, most of his torso now spanning across the canoe’s seat.

Scott grabs onto the two oars and watches as Isaac climbs onto the canoe like a turtle on a beach.

“Scott, the alligators, c’mon!” Isaac said.

Scott kicks his feet up, splashing at Isaac. “Y’know, the water is actually pretty nice, like you said.”

Isaac reaches for Scott’s left leg and pulls him closer to the canoe. “I’m not kidding, get on the boat!”

Scott looks over his shoulder to see a flick of muddy-dark-green-something between the waves. He quickly pushes himself up into the canoe before looking down into the water inches below him.

A small alligator emerges from the depths, not more than the length of his forearm. It’s staring at them as they do the same to it before the canoe bumps into its snout, sending it diving back down and disappearing into the water.

“Aww,” Scott couldn’t help but say.

“What do you mean ‘aww’? It could’ve ripped your limb off!”

“It was a baby one, that alone deserves an ‘aww’.”

Isaac looks at the water, scanning the waves warily before sighing. “Yeah…you’re right, it is very ‘aww’.”

Scott smiles.

“And that is very ‘aww’ too,” Isaac said. It only makes Scott smile even more with a blush heating up his cheeks.

#thank you!! so sorry that this was so late #myfic #feral says things #Scisaac #Scott McCall #Isaac Lahey #Teen Wolf

26 notes · View notes

gretavansidecut · 3 years

Text

Room to Breathe

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4,297

Summary: You're out at a crowded bar with the boys and start to have a panic attack from all the sensory overload and your crush Josh helps you through it

Warnings: swearing, alcohol use, general angst, detailed descriptions of sensory overload, anxiety, and spiraling negative thoughts. If you find any of these things to be triggering or otherwise upsetting, please proceed with extreme caution!

A/N: So I haven't written a fic in like... God, six years maybe? But this idea popped into my head the other night and just wouldn't leave so I figured what the heck, why not give this writing thing another try? I had an absolute blast writing this, and I hope you all enjoy it!

You held your head in your hands, trying your best to steady your breathing as you took refuge in the bathroom stall. The pounding, brain-rattling music of the honky-tonk was slightly more bearable in the relative quiet of the restroom, but you still found yourself grinding your teeth as the noise was beginning to get to you. Densely packed places were always a challenge; you weren't necessarily afraid of crowds, or claustrophobic, or anything like that, it was more that the combination of the overbearing noise and the feeling of being packed in like a sardine tended to make you a little... Panicky, to say the least. It didn't help that just getting into the bar in the first place nearly gave you sensory overload either. But you weren't about to bail early if you could help it, and you weren’t about to let a little creeping panic ruin a night on the town with the guys of Greta Van Fleet, especially not when Josh was the one who'd invited you to come along. Besides, you could handle a crowded, noisy bar for one night, right?

The sudden slamming of the bathroom door made you jump in your stall, the rowdy voices of drunk patrons shattering whatever peace you'd had up to that point. You let out a heavy sigh, figuring it was for the best as you'd already been in there for at least five minutes. Any longer and the guys might've started to get worried, or worse, come looking for you. You emerged from your stall, ignoring the drunk people and their slurred conversation to your left as you washed your hands, and then taking a moment to splash some water on your face. Just the thought of going back out into the noise and crowd was enough to make your chest tighten, and you couldn’t help but feel a little pissed off at the current situation. You’d been looking forward to this night out for over a week; a chance to properly spend time with the guys outside of work after doing odd jobs around their studio for the last few months, and you’d especially been looking forward to spending some time with Josh. As much as you hated to admit it, you’d developed a little bit of a crush on him over the course of working at the studio, but you figured there was no harm in dreaming as long as you kept things platonic and professional. He seemed to enjoy your company and laugh at your jokes, and you definitely enjoyed his in return.

You let out another shaky breath, taking a few more seconds to steel yourself before heading back out there. You knew this place would be packed, and you’d been ready for it, honestly you had. But today had just been one of those aggravating days, the kind where every little thing seemed to go wrong and rub you the wrong way. And when that happened, the panic would tend to creep in more easily, and with greater intensity. Still, you resolved to hold yourself together as best you could and not ruin the evening, glancing at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were presentable, before turning around and reentering the bar.

All at once, the blaring music and roar of the crowd hit you, and you couldn't even hear yourself think. There were flashing neon lights hung up on every wall, a few TVs scattered here and there playing some sports channels, and people zipping about all over the place. It felt like your whole head was ringing, your eyes and ears begging for mercy already as you made your way back to the far corner of the room where the boys’ table was. You could eventually pick out Josh's boisterous laughter through the mayhem, and the four of them came into view just in time for you to see Josh lob a pretzel about 4 feet into the air, only for Jake to expertly and effortlessly catching it in his mouth. Danny and Sam both cheered at once, each of them swiftly downing a shot of tequila as Josh shared a high five with his twin.

"Hell yeah Jakey, ten in a row, that's a new record!" He exclaimed in triumph, grabbing his glass and finishing what was left of his salty dog in one gulp. When he was done, he noticed you approaching the table and his eyes immediately lit up, though whether that was because of you or the sudden rush of alcohol you weren’t sure. Still, it was always nice to see him smile, even when you felt like you were on the verge of losing your mind.

"Heeey, Y/N's back! Now we can get this party going again!" He slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side as he grinned from ear to ear. In any other situation your hopeless crush on him would make you nervous if he got this close to you, but after your perilous trek to the bathroom and back a little contact from someone besides a total stranger was more than welcome.

"Yeah, what took you so long?" Jake teased, popping another pretzel into his mouth. "We were starting to think you'd fallen into the sewers or something!"

"No, that's what you thought Jake, me 'n Sam were betting they'd run off and joined the circus!" Danny added with a grin, his words slightly slurred from the tequila at this point.

You swallowed tightly, flashing them a half-forced grin as you shook your head. “Guys, c’mon, be reasonable here, it was nothing like that... What really happened was an alligator popped up out of the toilet and we had a riveting conversation about quantum physics and string theory.”

The guys erupted into laughter; Jake covering his mouth so he didn’t accidentally spit out his pretzel, Josh cackling to your left, Sam almost choking on his beer, and Danny holding his face in his palm as he snickered drunkenly. Even in your heightened state of anxiety, you couldn't help but genuinely laugh along with them in the moment. After all, even in a stressful situation the guys were still a hoot to be around. They each had their own oddball sense of humor that made you, a fellow oddball, feel right at home with them. And the fact that Josh's arm was still wrapped around your shoulder was pretty nice too. It was almost enough to make the blaring noise and packed-in-like-sardines feeling of the bar bearable... Almost.

You were able to keep it together enough to have another round of drinks with them, finding solace in a simple vodka cranberry as the guys got drunker and more boisterous. Danny and Sam decided to have an arm wrestling contest, which Danny won quite easily given his drummer's arms, though that didn’t stop Sam from challenging him to a rematch, and still losing, five more times. Then Jake ended up slipping into his Oliver Reed impression, made all the more credible in his intoxicated state, and he began to ramble on about how wild and wonderful the filming of Tommy had been. Josh of course piped in when he could, commentating on Danny and Sam’s contest like a sports announcer and slipping into his own goofy voice as he ”interviewed” Mr. Reed. If this were happening anywhere else, literally anywhere else besides an overcrowded bar in the most overcrowded part of Nashville, you would've been having the absolute time of your life. But instead you found yourself getting more and more tense with each moment that passed by, the pounding noise and mass of shifting bodies behind you making your pulse race and your head ache. Your drink had done absolutely nothing to calm your nerves, and not even the continued feeling of Josh's arm on your shoulder seemed to help, and you were starting to resent the fact that you couldn't even enjoy that.

You finally hit your limit when you felt the sharp point of someone's elbow jab into the middle of your back, and you flinched hard away from the source of the sudden contact. You could feel Josh’s arm tighten around your shoulder slightly, and everyone's heads whipped around to see a young woman, clearly drunk and looking very apologetic.

"O-oh shit, I'm so sorry sweetie!" She slurred out, steadying herself on her feet. "Didn't mean t'hitcha! Jus' tryin' to get s'more drinks for my table!"

The guys all nodded, assuring her it was and honest mistake and she gave them all a smile and a wave as she staggered off towards the bar. You, on the other hand, couldn’t even bring yourself to look at her, your eyes locked on an empty glass on the table as the ringing in your head became unbearable, every nerve and muscle in your body suddenly taut like a bowstring. The guys kept talking, though what about you had no clue, unable to make out what they were saying as your own pulse pounded in your ears. In the back of your mind you thought you could feel Josh's thumb rubbing gently against your shoulder, almost in a soothing kind of motion, but you honestly couldn't be sure right now. Every molecule in your body was struggling to keep it together as you quickly spiraled into a frenzied panic, and the only thing you were absolutely positive was true was that you had to get out of there fast.

"Hey... You alright?" Josh's voice was suddenly clear and crisp in your ears like a bell, and it was enough to snap you out of your spiral for just a second and address the table. Though the way Jake, Sam, and Danny were looking at you expectantly made you feel like you wanted to run and hide under a rock. If there was one thing you hated more than having a breakdown in public, it was people knowing you were having a breakdown in public.

"O-oh yeah, I'm good! Sh-she just startled me is all..." Your voice trailed off, and you swallowed dryly as you fought back tears. "I... I'm just gonna s-step outside for a second and get some air, yeah?" You said with a plastered-on smile, doing your best to not let them know anything was wrong as you reluctantly wormed your way out of Josh's grip and made your way towards the nearest door. You pushed your way through the crowd, ignoring the protests as you bumped into several people along the way, struggling to focus long enough to make it to your goal. You could feel your throat tightening, hot tears stinging your eyes as shame and embarrassment crept into your panic stricken mind. ‘Seriously? You couldn't even handle one night out in a crowded bar? You just had to let your sort-of-crappy day get to you and ruin everyone's night, didn't you?’

Finally reaching the door, you stumbled out of it, desperately trying to catch your breath as you welcomed the sudden rush of fresh air. Unfortunately, in your panic, the door you ended up choosing wasn’t the one that led to the bar's outdoor area like you thought, but the front door, and you suddenly found yourself adrift in the churning tide of rowdy, drunken humanity that was the Broadway strip on a Friday night. You didn't even bother trying to hold the tears back at this point, completely overwhelmed and hyperventilating as you found the quietest spot in sight, an empty doorway on the other side of the bar's front windows, and sank to the ground. You hugged your knees tightly as you brought them up to your chest, shaking as you buried your face in your arms, the blaring noise, blinding lights, and sheer presence of the crowd causing you to shut down on the spot.

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder jolted you out of your stupor, and you scrambled away from the touch as fast as you could with a startled scream. You were fully prepared to yell at whatever stranger had just touched you, because the last thing you needed right now was some rando putting their hands on you. To your mix of shock and relief, it was Josh's face that you saw, his eyes a little wide as he held up both of his hands in a defensive manner.

"Easy Y/N, it's just me, it’s Josh!" He said as softly as he could while still being audible over the throng of the crowd. You couldn't find it in you to respond, just staring at him like a deer caught in a car’s headlights as your body started to shake uncontrollably. You suddenly realized there was, in fact, something you hated more than people knowing you were having a breakdown in public, and that was your goddamn crush knowing that you were having a breakdown in public. In the back of your panic-stricken mind you wondered, if you just stayed still long enough, whether Josh would just turn around and leave you alone. You realized just how futile that thought was when he did quite the opposite and extended a hand out to you.

"It's pretty intense out here. Let's go find a quieter spot, alright?"

The rest of your body still shaking, you nodded your head eagerly, accepting his hand as he pulled you up off the ground. Once you were standing, he let go of your hand and wrapped that same arm around your waist, pulling you in close to his side as he cocked his head in one direction.

"You're ok, just stay close to me, I'll get you out of here."

You hastily nodded again, unable to make words or maintain eye contact as you turned your gaze to the concrete below you and let Josh guide you through the sea of bodies. It felt like you were in there forever, the crowd shifting all around you, and any time you felt someone get too close, your body began to lock up and freeze. The only thing that kept you upright and moving was Josh's arm curled around your side, keeping you grounded as he led you away from the worst of the crowd. Eventually it dawned on you that the number of people around you were thinning out, the noise getting less and less intense as Josh led you up a street and then some kind of steep ramp. A cool rush of air and the sudden smell of water hit your nostrils and you glanced upwards to get your bearings just in time to realize that Josh was leading you over the river on the pedestrian bridge, towards the eastern side of the city and away from the bedlam of Broadway. You were about three quarters of the way over the bridge before he pulled you off to the side, leading you right up to the railing where you could clearly feel the breeze. The cacophony you'd just escaped from was still very much audible from this distance, but you found its volume to be much more bearable now. There was also plenty of room out here, as well as far fewer people, and for the first time since you'd entered the bar earlier that night, you felt like you could finally breathe.

You leaned forward, bracing yourself against the railing as you took deep breaths in through your nose, before slowly exhaling through your mouth, and you could feel your body ever so slowly start to relax more and more with each one you took. Josh was quiet for the time being, his hand moving from your side to your back and rubbing up and down in a soothing motion while you caught your breath. Despite feeling calmer, the tears were more difficult to stop, anger and embarrassment at yourself nagging you in the back of your mind, unable to shake the feeling that you'd just ruined whatever fun he'd been having that night.

You felt something soft touch your arm and you looked up to see a packet of tissues in Josh's other hand as he offered them to you, still silently rubbing your back. You happily accepted them, tearing the plastic open and grabbing a couple before reaching up and wiping your face, your breath still hitching here and there as you tried to steady yourself mentally. After a few more moments of quiet you finally heard Josh speak up, his voice soft and concerned.

"How're you doing? Any better?"

You bit your lip out of nerves, nodding as you finally worked up the courage to look him in the eye for the first time since leaving the doorway by the bar. You were expecting to see anger, annoyance, judgement; honestly all the things you felt about yourself right now reflected back at you in his face, but instead you saw nothing but sympathy and concern painted across his features. In any other situation you'd be positively swooning over how he was looking at you so tenderly. It was another couple moments before the ability to speak finally came back to you, and you let out a heavy, shaking sigh.

“Y-yeah I… I’m alright now…. Thanks.” you trailed off, trying to swallow down the shame that had been slowly creeping into your mind. “I… I’m so sorry about this… I d-didn’t mean to ruin everyone’s night.”

“Ok, first of all-” Josh said in a calm but firm voice, his palm on your back pressing into you a bit more and pulling you closer to him. “We’re not gonna do that tonight, alright? You didn’t ruin damn thing, you had a panic attack and that’s not your fault.” It took everything in you to not star crying again when he said that, though at least this time it would've been because you were touched by his concern and not because you were upset.

“And second, I should be the one apologizing to you. That street can be really intense if you’re not ready for it, and I should’ve checked with you ahead of time that you were. I never would’ve picked such a crowded spot if I knew that was gonna be an issue for you.”

You sniffled a little bit, shaking your head as you slowly pulled yourself together. “I-it’s ok, really... Like, normally I can handle crowds and loud noise, but being packed in like that, with everyone bumping into you and all the noise and lights on top of it... that can just be too much for me to handle sometimes, you know?” You watched as Josh nodded along to what you spoke, indicating that he was listening, and knowing that he wasn't going to judge you for how you reacted was helping the residual panic and shame you still felt fade away.

“And then on top of that, today just like.... kind of sucked, in general. I mean, nothing terrible happened or anything, but it was a whole bunch of little things, one after the other. I totally fucked up making breakfast, my cat threw up on my favorite pair of shoes, I got a parking ticket for a really ridiculous reason, and I have some other work deadlines coming up that’re stressing me out, so I already wasn’t in the best headspace to deal with all of...That tonight.” you gestured your hand back towards the direction of Broadway.

"Then when that chick jabbed me in the back it just... snapped something inside me. I-I know it was an accident, and I don’t blame her for what she did, but it honestly startled me so bad, and I just lost it..."

"I don’t blame you,” he replied sympathetically “That’s entirely too much shit to deal with in a single day.”

"And like... I-I know I could’ve asked for a raincheck, but I didn't wanna like, be rude or have you guys think I was blowing you off. Because I didn’t want to blow you guys off! Especially not for something so stupid..."

"Hey, it's not stupid at all." He replied adamantly, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Those kind of crappy days have a way if wearing you down way harder than you’d think."

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as it felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You’d been so, so worried that Josh was going to be angry, or that he wouldn’t have understood what had happened, as had been the case for you so many times before. His hand began gently rubbing your back again in a soothing motion, and the two of you slipped into silence for a moment, letting the cool breeze coming off of the river wash over you. Even with the music still pounding in the distance, you could hear the sound of the river rushing under you if you listened closely enough, and so you did, finding the sound incredibly soothing. It was almost hypnotizing in a way, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed before Josh spoke again, but when he did, you were a little surprised by what he had to say.

“I know a couple smaller clubs on the outskirts of the city we could check out next time. They've still got all the good drinks and music, but they aren’t nearly as intense as that one was.” he suggested, flashing you a warm smile.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, those definitely sound like my kind of place. But you seriously want me to hang out with you guys again after that whole mess?”

“Of course! So you had a bad night, it happens to the best of us. We aren’t gonna hold it against you. Besides, why wouldn’t we wanna hang out with someone as awesome as you?”

You let out a small chuckle, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as nervous blush crept onto your cheeks. “Well, I’m not sure about awesome... but I’m glad to know you guys enjoy my company.”

“What, are you kidding me?” he retorted enthusiastically, his dark eyes sparkling in the dim lights of the bridge. “You’re absolutely awesome! You’re so nice and welcoming to everyone, you’ve got an incredible sense of humor, great taste in music, and you are delightfully weird!” You were glad the lighting on the bridge wasn’t the best where you were standing, because your face was rapidly turning red as he kept showering you with compliments.

“Well, thank you.” You replied somewhat shyly, a grin spreading across your face as you found Josh’s good mood infectious, feeling much more at ease now than you had earlier. In a sudden streak of boldness you struck a small pose, with one hand framing your face dramatically. “But what, no mention of my flawless good looks?”

You were just kidding around, of course, and Josh knew you were too. But even still, you couldn't help but notice the way Josh’s eyes widened and his smile twitched ever so slightly when you said that, or how he seemed to be blushing if the way his cheekbones suddenly appeared darker were anything to go by.

“I mean...” he began with a small shrug, his smile downright sheepish at this point “That’s so incredibly obvious that I kinda figured it went without saying. But they’re definitely a bonus!”

You let out a nervous laugh, feeling your face burn from the sudden rush of blood to it, and you turned to face back towards the river. You couldn’t keep looking at him when he said that, not when he said it while he had his hand on your back, not when he was blushing while he said it, not when he said it so... so earnestly. You pressed into his side a bit more firmly, and you swore you could feel his heart beating faster in his chest.

“Yeah, well... don’t sell yourself short, you’ve got a face that could give Errol Flynn a run for his money.” you half-teased, nudging him affectionately in the ribs with your elbow. He let out a small chuckle beside you, his arm still firmly wrapped around your shoulder and he gave your arm a soft, affectionate squeeze in return. The two of you said nothing for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company and touch as you both gazed out over the river, watching the lights of the city twinkle and glimmer on it’s dark surface.

“Is... is it cool if we just stay up here for a little while?” you asked, suddenly feeling very physically tired after this whole ordeal. “I hate to just ditch the others and leave them in that bar, but I honestly don’t think I could handle going back in there tonight.”

“Oh don’t worry, a bar is the best place we could possibly leave them.” Josh said with a chuckle. “But seriously, we can stay out here as long as you need.” he assured, giving you a firm hug from the side and flashing you a soft, reassuring smile. “We don’t have to go anywhere.”

A sudden surge of warmth and fatigue washed over you, and you found yourself leaning more heavily into Josh’s frame, which he seemed to welcome, finally letting your head come to rest on his shoulder. Your eyes slipped closed for a second, and you took a deep breath before letting out a soft, contented sigh.

“Thank you so much for everything you did for me tonight. I seriously can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” He hummed softly in reply as he leaned back against you, the weight of his cheek suddenly pressing into the top of your head.

“Anytime, Y/N. I’ll always have your back.”

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #josh kiszka x reader #sidecut fics #because I guess that's a tag I need now x'D #I still can't believe I actually wrote something again after all this time. I had so much goddang fun!

126 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 3 years

Text

The Cover Story, Ch. 1

Greetings! This is a preview of my first chapter that I’m posting exclusively on my patreon. If you like it, I hope you follow along as I work on it there. I appreciate your time and thoughts and would love to hear what you think.

Without further ado, or perhaps much ado about thing...

Lucy Madani was not going to cry.

That was a lie. She might cry. She wanted to cry. She was known to cry very easily, but not without reason, and there certainly were more than enough reasons already for her to tear up as she stood on the corner and felt a wave of water from a bus going through a puddle splash her legs and skirt. It was only just after eight in the morning, and she was ready to crawl back into bed, admit defeat graciously, and sleep straight through to tomorrow.

“I can’t talk right now, Baba,” Lucy muttered into her phone as she resumed her quick walk down the street.

“You are mad, and we need to talk.”

“Let me rephrase it. I don’t want to and I also can’t. I’m going to be late for my meeting.”

“Your big interview pitch. I wanted to wish you good luck, but you stormed off.”

“Yes, that is what one tends to do when their father informs them that he is getting engaged,” she fumed, her anger coming over her once again at the thought as she darted across the street, waving her hand at the honking car.

She was an adult, she tried to remind herself. A full, grown adult. An adult-adult who barely had a stable job, had heaps of student loans, and still lived with her widowed father. She didn’t throw tantrums and she wasn’t going to cry about any of it. Today was too important for that, and she was going to nail the pitch and finally move on from puff pieces for teen magazines. She was going to make the jump to serious journalist. She was going to be requested, by name.

Today she was not going to cry.

At least not on purpose.

“Will you be home for dinner?”

Luckily, he knew enough to sound sorry, though it wasn’t enough of a victory for her, only fueling the prickling behind her eyes.

“No, I’m going over Laila’s. I’ll just stay there. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your time with her.”

“Lucy joon, please talk to me. I know you’re mad-- you have your mother’s temper, but I think we should talk about this.”

“I’m going into my meeting. We’ll talk sometime this week,” she offered, shaking her head. “Just… I have to go.”

She didn’t wait for much of a reply because she knew he was playing low, dragging her mother into it. It only made it worse. Shoes sloshing against the tile of the lobby, she made her way to the elevator and decided firmly, once again, that she was not going to cry.

Her phone chimed with a handful of well wishes and good luck’s from the group chat and she thanked them quickly before trying to find the meeting information from her calendar, head down and lost in her own world as she stepped into the elevator and right into a stranger.

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy hurried, looking forward and then following the chest and then long pale neck up a few more inches to an amused smirk and eyes hidden by wayfarer sunglasses.

“Not a problem. I was in the way.”

The stranger ran her hand through a mop of curly copper hair atop her head, faded on the sides and shaggy on top, decidedly better put together than any tiktok boy’s. Her small smile pulled at bow-shaped lips and left dimples on both cheeks, and there were too many freckles to even begin counting. Lucy gulped before moving to the side and slinking to the back corner.

Of course she would get into an elevator with the hottest woman she’d ever seen. Of course she would nearly plow her over in her hurry. Of course she would be sweet and smile like that and have an adorably shaped chin and face. Of course Lucy would do all of that while looking like something the cat dragged in after a bad night.

But luck wasn’t with her today, and she was unable to hide too long, as no one else got on behind her and she heaved the heaviest sigh before looking down at her ruined stockings, spattered with mud and whatever else was festering in that puddle. Her skirt was soaked still and dripping and she was beginning to really feel it sinking into her skin. Phone clutched tightly in her hand, she felt the weight of it all and didn’t know what to do with it.

From under her brow she looked up to study the back of the stranger, their long legs and black jeans, their primly tucked in black t-shirt that stretched slightly across her shoulders, and the softest looking hair in the most beautiful shade of red she’d ever seen.

The elevator ascended approximately three floors before she started crying. Alligator tears slipped down her cheeks before she could do anything to stop them. And then the stranger cleared their throat and quietly turned around to verify what was happening, was actually happening, only making it worse.

But she didn’t say anything, just turned back around, and with the smallest movement stretched an arm forward to hold the elevator between floors, and quickly, Lucy turned herself around and faced the wall. She took a few steadying breaths and wiped her cheeks, mentally preparing to leave everything else behind and focus on the moment-- when she would be selling herself to one of the largest companies of all time to be the writer of the profile of their Director of Creative Design before they went public. She’d prepared. She was ready. Nothing else mattered and she was a goddamn adult.

The stranger, the kind, hot stranger pushed her sunglasses up into the messy curly hair and offered a smaller smile than before, the communal ‘it’ll be okay’ without saying anything. Lucy didn’t register much of it, just stared at the grey-green of her eyes, forgetting all else, and especially that she was a goddamn adult who desperately needed a payday to move out of her father’s place and away from whoever was moving into her mother’s side of the bed.

“I’m not usually,” she began, but bit her tongue because she didn’t want to lie. She was usually like this, just occasionally less muddy. “Thank you.”

“We can stay a few more minutes if you’d like. I don’t really want to go to work today.”

For the first time all day, Lucy smiled genuinely and felt lighter. It was that quick and that easy.

“It’s okay. I’m ready.”

A curt nod led to a stretch again and the elevator started once more. Lucy leaned across and pressed the button for her floor, catching a whiff of a distinctly woodsy smell, like sandalwood perhaps? There was a hit of lavender? Maybe cedar? It was wonderful. She wanted to breathe in more of it, but retreated before she was the girl who cried and sniffed people in the elevator.

The silence was oddly comfortable for a few more seconds until it dinged and she took the step out. The stranger politely held the door and offered one final smile, complete with just one dimple this time.

“Good luck,” she winked before pulling back, hands clasped loosely in front of her before the doors closed forever.

It couldn’t get better than that, Lucy decided, staring at the elevator doors and steadying herself once again. But she was hoping it couldn’t get worse either.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Quinn Sullivan wanted to die.

Not really die, but she might have taken a good coma. Just for like a week maybe. Or six months. Something long enough to beat out this hangover she was sporting, courtesy of her very thoughtful best friend, and if she was lucky, long enough to survive the offering and release of the new game. Maybe a year-long coma? Was that too much to ask for, honestly? Maybe the universe could toss her a bone, just this once, especially after the previous year of her life.

But in lieu of a swift and merciful death and/or coma, she was just going to have to survive the giant hangover that was currently attacking her body. All she needed was a quiet day and an extra large piece of leftover pizza she was certain was waiting in the staff fridge somewhere. Maybe some birthday cake--

And then a five-five wrecking ball of a human barreled into her chest.

The rest of her ride up, Quinn thought about the weird trip it’d been, and if she should have done something different. And then she beat herself up for winking. Who winked? Why did she wink? She’d never done it before. But she earned a smile from a cute girl, and there was a tiny flutter at the base of her rib cage, one she hadn’t noticed in a long, long time. She pressed her fingertips there for the rest of the ride to her floor.

With a groan, she put her sunglasses back on as the elevator dinged to her floor and took a deep breath to prepare for her day, not allowing her brain to trace out an entire life with the cute, crying stranger where they bought peaches at the farmer’s market on Saturday’s and danced in the kitchen. Romance was dead and dreaming was forbidden.

“Aspirin is already on your desk,” Jenny greeted her cheerfully. “With an egg sandwich and some fruit.”

“No leftover pizza?” Quinn didn’t pout, but she might have for that.

“Trust me, this will fix you up much better. I went to a state school, remember, MIT?”

“We partied…” Quinn trailed off as she pushed open the door to her office.

She hadn’t partied, but she was certain people had to have partied. It was college, and though it was many moons ago, she certainly couldn’t remember hangovers feeling like this. Maybe this is what almost thirty felt like. That thought didn’t help with the headache.

“All-night coding sessions don’t count. Eat the food. I’ll hold the wolves at bay as long as I can, but Chris and the Exlust team are adamant you have the meeting today to resolve story issues.”

Quinn tossed back the aspirin before she even sat down. Maybe Jenny was her universal compensation. The shades were already drawn so her normally bright office was much more tolerable. Even the eggs didn’t make her stomach swirl, and she was grateful her assistant learned something useful while studying biomedical engineering..

“I just need like an hour to work something out. I had an idea last night--”

“Before or after the sangria?”

“During. Definitely during, but still. I just need to work through it and then they can tear me to shreds. Can you add to my calendar a warning to never drink again?”

Quinn was fairly certain she’d texted her assistant that at some point in the morning. Probably before the shower, but after the first cup of coffee.

“Gladly,” Jenny smiled softly. “You doing okay? It’s been a while since you tied one on like this.”

“I’m fine. Just celebrating with Darcy. No more sad drinking, I believe was the rule you came up with and I follow all of your rules.”

With a roll of the eyes, files were placed on her desk and her assistant retreated to the ringing phones, which when the door was held open, were actual torture devices to Quinn’s brain.

“Sadie wants your afternoon free. I think it’s another reporter.”

“She’s relentless.”

“Maybe you’re impossible?”

“It’s genetic then,” Quinn sighed, munching on a grape and tugging open a notebook. “One hour, please?”

“I got you, boss.”

“Thanks.”

Never quite sure how Jenny did it, Quinn chose not to ask any questions. But when she asked for an hour, she got it. And despite the headache and laziness in her muscles, the food and aspirin did help so that by the end of her allotted time, she felt like she had captured the breakthrough that appeared to her the night before.

Before she could admire her work though, her team filed in and she was prepared to start her day, finally, even with the nagging idea of a reporter nipping at her thoughts through it all.

Somewhere between her breakfast and lunch, Quinn felt better. She fired off a few texts to see how Darcy was handling it and received only pictures of a half obscured but obviously still in bed face and chuckled to herself. It was a slower day, and she wasn’t about to waste it with a hangover. She should give Jenny a raise, she decided, because the woman could cure hangovers. Maybe submit her for the Nobel for Science.

“Sadie is here,” her assistant buzzed and Quinn lost all forms of motivation.

Her head hit her desk dramatically as the door opened and her sister walked in. Slightly shorter, but older by two years, Sadie was nearly everything Quinn could never manage to be despite her best intentions. She had the MBA from Harvard and the doting husband that came with it, a cute brownstone near White Hill and the park, and her first baby on the way. But even past her resume, Sadie Sullivan-Hawkins was personable and charismatic. She was adored and shrewd, capable of disarming anyone and eviscerating the others. It all came so easy to her, to have people around, to talk and be listened to, to be loved. She was a shark in business, and at the same time warm and put people at ease.

Quinn could barely tie her shoes and Sadie was running a marathon in life.

“Want to talk about it?” Sadie smiled as she took the seat across from Quinn’s desk.

“About what?”

“Why you’re getting drunk with Darcy on a Tuesday?”

“She got the job at Taylor and Vine. We were celebrating.”

“So not about Chloe’s announcement in the Times?”

Quinn played dumb, typing gibberish into her phone because she didn’t want to look at her sister’s kind and caring face. If she looked, then she’d have more feelings, and for the life of her, she just wanted the incessant tinnitus of the break up to disappear completely.

“Nope, I caught that this morning though, so I was in the right physical and mental place to really wallow. I don’t care about her.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“I have these notes to get done for the Shadow Operation team before our meeting with design. I’m fine. My ex can marry whoever she wants-- God knows she didn’t want to marry me. Good luck to the next sap.”

This made her sister chuckle, and Quinn smiled quietly to herself. There was still a bitterness there that she couldn’t get rid of. It was masking potentially the worst hurt imaginable. She preferred the bite of the bitter though. Easier to navigate.

“I have someone I want you to meet with.”

“Oh, fuck off Sadie,” Quinn moaned, knowing full well what was about to happen. “I’m not talking to anyone. You’re the face of this outfit. That’s what you told me.”

“You’ve run off three other reporters. Our public offering is going to underperform if there is no faith in the heart of our company,” she explained, sitting up a little straighter. “And that’s you. I might crunch the numbers and keep the lights on, but you are what people are buying.”

“Then you tell them about me. I don’t even have to be there.”

“If only that were true, my job would be a lot easier.”

At a stalemate, the sisters stared at each other for a few moments before Sadie broke, making a face as she smiled towards her lap, running her hand over the smallest bump barely showing. Quinn shook her head and looked away. Anywhere else was better than the damn disapproving look leveled at her now.

“I don’t know what to say,” Quinn finally muttered. “I don’t want to-- I can’t--”

“Chloe was an idiot. She broke your heart. Now, you barely exist, but I know that you’re still you. And we need this.”

“I can’t. I really can’t. I wish you’d get it.”

It hurt too much all over again. In a weird way, Quinn missed the feeling of the hangover because at least that was a useful ache. The dull throbbing in her chest and bones just felt hollow and haunting.

“We have a meeting with her. I’ve already walked her through the contracts and final edits, as well as shown her around. Please just rip the bandaid off and get it over with. She’s good. I’ve read a few of her pieces and Donna recommended her to me.”

Sadie had their mother’s eyes. It drove Quinn crazy, that she looked like she didn’t belong in her own family. It also meant it felt like her mom was staring at her and reminding her to do her chores. She rubbed the back of her neck, letting her head lull to the side.

“I’ll… I’ll try.”

“Yes! I knew it. Thank you. Seriously, Q. It’s going to be great. This is going to--”

“I said I’ll try. I didn’t say I’d do it.”

“It’ll be great,” Sadie ignored the warning, hopping up from her chair and moving to the door to beckon the reporter in. “Come in and meet the genius of the whole outfit.”

Quinn rubbed her face with her hands, digging her fingers into the corners of her eyes under her glasses before steadying herself. She could do it for her sister, she reminded herself, and that stupid niece or nephew she was incubating.

Maybe it would be as simple as ripping off a band-aid. Maybe she could just let a stranger rifle through her entire life and being, except that she wasn’t sure there was anything there anymore. Everything felt like she was going through the motions, and it was terrifying to Quinn to let someone see that she was barely stitched together. How could she explain that there was nothing behind door number one? Let alone number two or number three.

“Quinn, this is Lucy Madani. She’s a freelancer hired by New York Magazine. She did a great piece on the Attorney General last month and her article on the director who went on to win Cannes went viral.”

There was still mud on her skirt, but her stockings had been disbanded, gone forever, but it was unmistakable the stranger from the elevator standing in her office. That felt like an entire lifetime ago, and yet Quinn tried to swallow.

“You have longer hair, in the pictures I found of you online,” Lucy offered, overcoming her surprise much quicker. She stuck out her hand over Quinn’s desk and waited for her to shake it.

She was a reporter. A reporter who cried in the elevator. A reporter Quinn had, if she were being honest, checked out. But foremost, she was a reporter. She wanted to dive into the deepest parts of Quinn’s brain for profit, mutual benefit and all. It sounded dreadful.

The universe did not owe her anything, Quinn remembered, but the perpetual mocking was getting a little over the top.

“Quinn Sullivan,” she shook the hand presented and tried to breathe. Lucy’s hand was warm and felt soft. She wasn’t sure how to let go. “How’s it going?”

Fuck! Her mind blared as she dropped the reporter’s hand and mentally beat herself to a pulp. Who talked like that? And still, she could not answer, winked?

“It’s been a day,” she smiled, nodding to herself as she accepted the seat Quinn offered. “Your sister has sung your praises all morning though. I feel like I could write about your without even meeting you.”

“Great. Let’s do that.”

Sadie laughed but gave Quinn a stern look.

“I’m going to go grab you some passes and copies of the contracts,” Sadie smiled graciously at Lucy before turning to her sister. “Listen to her pitch.”

“Seems it’s been decided,” she muttered to herself before plastering on a smile.

“Don’t have too much fun. I’ll be right back.”

And with that she truly was gone, and Quinn was left in her office with the reporter who had pretty eyes. They felt like syrup-- warm and deep brown, gooey and sticky. Her face was longer, her nose thin and long, her lips full and bitten-- and Quinn snapped herself out of her perusal and felt her chest warm too much. No, the universe didn’t owe her anything, and the punishment for thinking it did was sitting across from her in a muddy skirt and gentle smile.

For just a moment, Quinn held her breath and willed a coma..

66 notes · View notes

writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Exception to the Rule

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: M (?)

Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual themes. No smut, but I mean reader definitely wants to ride that cowboy. Period typical shame.

Summary: There is one exception to your rule about forcing Arthur to forgo chores and take a rest, that is the duty of chopping firewood.

Notes: Right, so I need someone to explain to me quite why I find men chopping wood to be attractive. I’m sure you can psychoanalyse the heck out of me from that fact alone.

Can you tell i’m a tad touched starved and needy at the moment? Can you tell, good sirs?

Archiveofourown

Arthur Morgan was the workhorse of the gang and that was a bonafide fact. The man brought in more money and more supplies than anyone else in camp. Added to the fact that he also did more than his fair share of chores, you often worried that the big burly outlaw would work himself to death. Especially with him picking up the slack for those who never seemed to do anything around camp like Uncle and Strauss.

Normally you’d stop him doing whatever chore he was doing, tell him to take a rest, go have a lie down and sleep or get some stew from the pot since he was the only reason you were even able to eat. You’d pull whatever he had from his hands and gently coax the man to go look after himself for five minutes which you’d manage to turn into at least an hour of down time. Every time he was reluctant, but grateful, asking you, ‘What’d I ever do to deserve you, darlin’?’ and every time you’d tell him something to the effect of ‘You were yourself, Mr Morgan’ while feeling flustered under his gaze.

There was one exception to this rule you had about getting Arthur to take some time off and look after himself. That rule was that whenever the man decided to bolster the camp’s firewood store you left him to it. Now this wasn’t a selfless decision, not one born out of respect for the man’s love for swinging a heavy axe at a wood log pretending it was Micah’s head. No, the reason for this rule was entirely, completely, most certainly the fact that Arthur Morgan never looked more handsome or primally attractive then when he was chopping wood especially in the height of summer or during the warmer season.

So, while you were most certainly going to hell and your late mother would be rolling in her grave, you found yourself on a stuffy warm day hands deep in a laundry bucket, but not really focusing on your work at all.

“Y/N, he’s at it again!” It had been Karen who’d notified you, giggling in your ear as you looked up and across camp towards the tree stump that was used for chopping firewood. Your arms elbow deep in soapy water, you hadn’t really thought to remove them, just lean further forward on your hands, lips parting with a sigh.

You don’t even care that you can hear the girls giggling behind you as they get on with their work, occasionally sneaking glances up at the same sight as you.

Arthur was strong, if he were a horse he’d be his 18 hands high shire horse. If he were a predator, he’d be a brown bear. It was always more clear though when he decided to chop firewood. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing thick, strong forearms dotted in scars and dark hair. You watched him roll his thick wrists once, twice before hefting the wood axe into his hands and up over his broad shoulders which tensed as he brought the axe down with a loud crack, the log splitting easily in two.

You watched the blue shirt strain over the breadth of his shoulders every time he brought the axe down, listened to the grunts that left his mouth with effort, followed the droplets of sweat that beaded at his forehead before rolling down his cheek and neck, disappearing beneath his favourite shirt. He grumbled slightly to himself about the dig of suspenders in his shoulders, slipping them off to rest by his thighs and threw his favourite gambler hat off to the side as it got in the way of his swings.

There was something about the immense power that Arthur exuded with each sharp decisive swing. The strength of his body combined with the sureness of his strokes made you slip a little with your hands in the washtub, splashing soapy water over the ground and your skirt with a curse.

You quickly returned your gaze to your work as you noticed Arthur’s head twist to check on you. Ever the helper and protector, he always seemed to zero in on any sound of complaint or unhappiness you made. You couldn’t have him catch on to your favourite chore.

“Y’alright over there, sweetheart?” It was called across the clearing, concern riding his voice as he briefly let the axe fall to his side to check on you. It brought a warmth to your body, blood rushing through you towards your ears and cheeks at his concern and your mild embarrassment.

“Oh, she’s just fine, Arthur. Don’t you worry about her!”

“Karen!” You twist from your place knelt on the ground and reach over to slap her arm. The truth was as much as you were interested in Arthur, you were simply friends. You made sure he didn’t work himself to death and he made sure you smiled on bad days. It was nothing more, nothing less, even if the sight of him made you feel weak at the knees. The last thing you wanted was to be embarrassed in front of him over your...thoughts.

“If you say so.” He gave the two of you a look before turning back to the stump. Putting it down briefly, you watched at first from the corner of your eye before being unable to resist his siren’s call as he unbuttoned the blue shirt and tossed it in a pile with his hat. Left in the top half of his union suit that clung tightly to the broad planes of his chest and the tight muscles of his shoulders, he was quite the sight.

Your eyes followed the strong line of his neck as he circled his head to stretch out a tight muscle and draw a crack from uncomfortable joints. They followed it down to the unbuttoned union suit that revealed strong collar bones and dark chest hair. Followed it down to the strong wide breadth of his body. More interested in that than the wood he was chopping.

“You might wanna close your mouth or else you might catch flies.” Tilly teases you, you would give her a playful glare, but couldn’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away from the specimen of a man that had gone back to his wood cutting.

Another log, hefted onto the stump, biceps filling out as he bent his arms to lift it. Another swing of the axe, broad shoulders seeming even larger under the strain. Another grunt. Another droplet of sweat.

“My mother must be rolling in her grave.” You say aloud, just a random thought, a little thing. That if she could see the heat of your gaze on Arthur, feel the warmth to your skin, know the itch in your belly, then she’d drag you by the ear to confessional where you’d have to tell the priest about all those thoughts. Like how you wanted Arthur to just throw you over his shoulder and take you back to his tent.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be having such wicked thoughts about our dear Mr Morgan, Y/N. Mighty improper of you.”

“Mary-Beth, I defy any woman to not have wicked thoughts when Arthur’s chopping firewood.” You hit back eyes finally drifting from Arthur to your friends. Each of them has the same look you’re sure was on your face. Each no doubt having done exactly what you had done when Arthur started unbuttoning his shirt in the summer heat and heaving a heavy axe over his shoulder.

“She’s got a point, Mary-Beth, that’s a whole lotta man, right there.” Tilly chimes in and some of that guilt that gnaws at you for staring at Arthur in such an improper manner dissolves. You’re not the only one who enjoys watching him chop wood. You’re not wrong for it. You’re just a woman with blood in your veins.

“It’s a damn shame he thinks he’s ugly. He’s the most handsome man around camp.” You sigh out, thinking about the harsh words he always uses for himself as you watch him continue working on the wood pile. His beard has grown out and frames his face beautifully, even with that spot that he can never seem to grow any hair on. You think he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever met, his treatment of you and the other girls only adds to it. He’s so...soft. So soft for someone so tough and rough.

“He is handsome, but you’re a little biased, Y/N. What’s the saying about saving a horse?” Karen titters.

“Ride a cowboy!” Tilly and Mary-Beth say it so loudly that you’re immediately shushing them, embarrassment flooding through you. As you catch Arthur once again turning in your direction, brow furrowed as he looks at your group. His hand reaches up to scratch as his beard and part of you wants the ground to swallow you entirely whole.

“I...Get your minds out of the gutter!”

“Only if you get yours out first!”

“I...I.” You huff, returning to your abandoned washing, scrubbing one of Arthur’s shirts with a new vigour that you didn’t know you had in you. They giggle behind you before walking off to the washing line to hang clean clothes up to dry.

You have to admit that your thoughts about Arthur tend to stray to the impure, especially at night when your mind is left to wander. He’s just so broad, so goddamn big and everything about him makes you want to wrap yourself around him like an alligator doing a death roll. Coming from a more high society lifestyle before finding the gang you’re not as comfortable with those thoughts as the other girls seem to be. There’s always that nagging thought in the back of your head that something’s wrong with you for lusting after him. That it’s not what a proper lady would do. But, he makes your heart ache desperately whenever you think of him. He makes your body warm and your lips ache for his. It’s not even just his body, it’s just him. You’re always longing for his company, eager to see him return from a job or a hunt just to hear his southern drawl wash over you with sweet kindness.

“Are you sure you’re alright, darlin’?” You jump at the drawl, his deep voice unexpected. He’s abandoned his wood cutting, crouching down next to you. The frown speaks of his concern and you can’t help but smile softly at how much he cares about everyone including yourself.

“It’s nothing, Arthur. Don’t you worry about me.” You assure him, your eyes fixed on the shirt in your tub that is more than clean by now after your aggressive scrubbing. You finally managed to get that damn bloodstain out.

A hand reaches under your jaw and gently grabs your chin, lifting your eyes to meet his. It has a shuddering breath leave your lungs before you can stop it, the look that crosses his face goes from concern to confusion to understanding and flirtation as he realises just why you’ve let that breath out. Just why the girls were teasing you.

“I always worry ‘bout you, sweetheart. Especially in this heat. Wouldn’t wan’ you to keel over now, all hot and bothered as y’are.” HIs thumb finds the hollow underneath your jaw and you can’t help but lean into his touch just a little bit more.

“Seems I should be the one concerned for you, Mr. Morgan. What with you working up a sweat on a hot day like today.” Your voice is breathy and you feel a tinge of shame at how little composure you seem to be able to keep around this man.

“Well I th-” His advance closer to you is stopped, his words halt as Dutch yells from somewhere in the vicinity of his tent, “Arthur! I got a job for you, boy!”

With a heavy sigh and one last gentle swipe of his thumb under your jaw, Arthur pulls away from you.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Always.” You reply watching him walk away, disappointed but not sure what you were expecting to happen. Were you hoping he’d kiss you? Were you hoping it would escalate further? That this burning in your stomach would find some relief, that your dreams would not be pure imagination anymore but have some basis in fact.

You sit back on your heels with a heavy breath, eyes turning towards the washtub again. Back to work, you suppose. Like always.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #readerinsert #reader insert #female reader

202 notes · View notes

justanotherteentitansblog · 3 years

Text

Poolside bbraeweek21 day 2

(So this fic is actually based on my headcannons for BB and Rae’s Future kids, Phoenix and Mavis. Phoenix is 6 in this and Mavis is about 1 ½ I have another fic during this week that features them but background info Phoenix has her dad’s powers and Mavis has her moms but Mavis has cuffs on her wrists that block them because a toddler with emotion based powers is a recipe for disaster. That should be everything you need to know before going in.)

“MOOOOOM!” Phoenix complained as her mother was trying to get sunscreen everywhere her bathing suit didn’t cover.

Raven continued despite her older daughter's protests, “Oh, I’m so sorry I don’t want you to get sunburnt. I’m the worst mom in the world, they should throw me in jail.”

“Can I even get sunburnt?”

Raven paused, that was actually a good question. She’d have to ask her husband about that one later. “Do you really wanna find out?”

“I wanna go play in the pool!”

“And you will, if you can be patient for five minutes while I get the rest of this on you.”

Phoenix huffed but complied as her mom finished applying sunscreen to her emerald skin.

“Go, but no morphing into salt water animals, just because I know CPR does not mean I want to use it.”

“Ok!” Phoenix shouted behind her as she ran into the Titans tower pool diving in feet first spraying droplets of water on her mother.

Just then, the door to the roof slammed open and Gar appeared carrying Mavis over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Why is it that trying to put my children in bathing suits is like trying to wrestle baby alligators?” he grumbled before Mavis kicked him in the face with a jelly shoe.

“At least Phoenix can dress herself now,” Raven replied.

“Ok, Rae” Gar said, handing her a wiggling giggling Mavis, “You can do this, I believe in you!”

“I’m going to need more than your belief Gar, I’m going to need a miracle.” Raven said, placing the girl in her lap as she squeezed sunscreen into her palm.

Raven attempted to work quickly before Mavis could realize what she was doing but it was too late. Mavis immediately threw her head back and arched her back as far as it could go to get away from her mother. She kicked and screeched and bit at her mother in an attempt to get away from her and the sunscreen. Succeeding only twice as Mavis was like a greased up pig at this point. Eventually Gar had to step in and hold his screaming child down while Raven rubbed the rest of the sunscreen into her skin, all whilst Mavis was screeching at the torture she was being made to suffer.

Finally finished with her work, Raven and Gar let Mavis go while she ran and threw herself down next to the pool, now able to throw a proper tantrum.

Door to the roof opened again revealing the rest of the former team along with the new titans as they filed out.

Cyborg stood at the door, hands on his hips glaring at the couple, “Yo what did you two do to my baby!” A long time ago this sentence would’ve meant the T Car but now exclusively meant Mavis whomst Vic had a huge soft spot for.

“We dared to put sunscreen on her.” Raven deadpanned.

Vic picked up the crying child and held her to his chest shielding her away from her parents, “Well don’t do it again,” he narrowed his eyes at the empath.

“Yeah Raven, how could you?” Gar added in sarcastically moving to retrieve his child from his best friend before she could push any buttons on him and blow everyone up.

Kori softly chuckled at her friends' interactions as she approached with Mar’i in her own arms.

“Raven, would you like me to watch over the little ones so you can have some time to yourself?”

Raven stood stunned for a moment, alone time was a rare treat and one she didn’t take lightly since having children and here Kori was offering it up like it was nothing. She could cry, she could’ve kissed Kori at that moment!

Gar was more hesitant however, “Are you sure, Star? Mavis is a handfu-”.

“Thank you so much Kori!” Raven interrupted shooting her husband a dirty look. HIs overprotectiveness was NOT about to ruin this rare opportunity for her.

Gar sighed but handed over Mavis to his friend and threw himself in the pool identically to the way Phoenix did spraying Raven with more water this time. Raven didn’t care though as she had already started lounging in a chair near the poolside with a book she kept in her bag just in case a rare opportunity like this occurred.

Gar swam over to Phoenix who was at this point testing out different freshwater fish she could turn into whilst doing laps. Upon seeing her Dad she morphed back into a girl and swam to meet him. “Dad! Dad! Look what I just figured out!” she shouted before morphing into an green lizard-like creature with fuzzy antennae on the sides of her face.

“Good work Nix, and that is called an….”

She morphed back into a child to answer, “Axolotl, a freshwater anphi, anphoebe, ambphibi,”

“Amphibian” Gar chuckled out.

“Yeah that one, and it comes from mexico.”

“You got it kid!” he said, giving the girl a high five.

Much to her delight her Dad then picked her up and threw her over his shoulder into the water. Phoenix emerged from the water, squealing “Do it again!” and he complied, throwing his child again and again as she cackled at their little game.

As much fun as Gar was having as well, he knew something was missing and that something was his wife. He knew how much her alone time meant to her, but with having the kids the time he had with just Raven was far and few between.

Phoenix swam back over to her Dad to get thrown again when he grabbed her up and whispered in her ear, “Hey Nixie, ask Mom to come in with us.”

Phoenix looked over at her mother fully engrossed in her reading at the poolside. “Mom doesn’t want to get in the pool”

Gar rolled his eyes “I know but she’s more likely to say yes to you than me.”

Phoenix regarded her mother lounging again, Phoenix really wanted to get ice cream after the pool and she knew that was more likely to happen if her mother was in a good mood and reading definitely put her in a good mood.

“No.” she said, staring at her Dad straight in the eyes.

Gar narrowed his eyes at Phoenix and threw her over his shoulder again but with less mirth this time.

Gar swam to the edge of the pool near Raven gave her his best puppy dog eyes, “Hey Ra-”

“No.” she said without looking up.

“Come on! I just want to have fun with you!” he complained.

Raven tore her eyes away from the book in her hand to glare at her husband, “Who stays home with the kids?”

Gar sighed at the familiar argument he always lost, “You do.”

“And when you’re on set, you get breaks right?”

“Yes”

“Do I ever get a break from being the mom?”

“No”

“So when I get a get a rare break, I’m going to enjoy it to the fullest, Gar”

Gar pouted and looked up at his wife, “but I miss you.”

Raven sighed and grumbled something to herself about him being as bad as the kids. “I promise we can do something together after the kids go to bed, but right now I really just want to read my book.”

Gar's ears drooped but he resigned, “Ok, enjoy your book Rae.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” Raven smiled.

Gar offered a half smile, still disappointed but deciding it was best to give her space.

Meanwhile Kori was sitting with Mavis and Mar’i on a beach towel while the girls were playing with toys. Mar’i was trying to wrestle the plastic elephant out of Mavis' hands whilst Mavis kicked and screamed at the other toddler.

“No, no, please girls no more fighting,” Kori implored the children.

The two girls had done nothing but fight since Kori had brought them over and she was at her wits end. She hadn’t truly understood what Garfield had meant by Mavis was a handful until this moment.

Mar’i had finally ripped the toy out of Mavis’s hands and threw it into the deep end of the pool. Mavis, outraged, bit the half tameranian on the arm leaving deep teeth marks.

Kori was shocked and scolded Mavis whilst running to get the neosporin for Mar’i.

Mavis took this as her opportunity to go retrieve her elephant and waddled her way over to the pool's edge.

Gar was throwing a beach ball back and forth with Phoenix when he saw something that made his blood run cold. Time stood still as he watched his youngest daughter trip over the edge of the pool and begin to fall in. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe, all he could do was panic as he watched her tiny body disappear into the deep end.

“MAVIS NO!” he screamed, willing the inevitable to stop.

Raven’s eyes tore away from her book and it was discarded in an instant as she sprinted to where her daughter had fallen in jumping in without a moment’s hesitation. Mavis had barely been in the water for a few minutes before rising to the top, struggling and splashing to keep herself afloat as Raven snatched her up and breathed a sigh of relief that she came back up quickly and didn’t try to inhale water.

Raven clutched a sobbing Mavis to her chest, shaking and attempting to stop herself from thinking about what could’ve happened. Gar swam over to examine the pair and make sure everyone was ok before hugging them both. Phoenix swam over as an axolotl to the deep end and cocked her head to the side in silent questioning at her mother.

“Everyone’s ok Nix. Thank you.” Raven replied, finally calming down at the same time as Mavis.

Gar smiled at Raven and then began to chuckle.

Raven narrowed her eyes at her husband, “I fail to see the humor in this situation Garfield!”

“Good Job, Mavis. You somehow got your mom in the pool!” he said through his laughter.

Raven’s eyes glowed with black magic as she sent a tidal wave crashing over her husband whilst holding both of her girls to her.

#bbraeweek21 #bbrae #bbrae fanfiction

44 notes · View notes

archipelagolago · 3 years

Text

And your heart beats to the death of the sun, the roll of the waves (+ sunday by Joy Oladokun)

÷÷÷

Ah ah ah (Mmm, mmm)

Ah ah ah

Billy used to dream of dandelion rich fields and soft pink sunbeams. He doesn't anymore. But he would like to again. Sometimes, he dreams of an endless subway station. Empty and dark like 4AM. That's the closest he ever gets these days.

He is contemplating the overlap between railroad tracks and dandelions from his spot on the floor. In the doorway between kitchen and sitting room. Half of himself laying on each side. Split between an intersection. Split between who he is and who he is expected to be.

And Steve will be here soon. Which is good. But overwhelming. Because Billy doesn't feel ready to see anyone right now. But. Perseverance and all that shit. So.

Mama says I'm up to no good again

Couldn't make her proud though I did my best

I feel like I'm a mess

I feel like I'm stuck in the wrong skin

I feel like I'm sick

But I'm having trouble swallowing my medicine

Ah ah ah

His mother's necklace weighs heavy on his chest, pressed against his collarbone. Heavy. Weighted full of all the disappointment he knows she would feel if she could see him now. She said she loved him. But she left. She said she loved him. But she left him with Neil. She said, she loved him. But, she also said, 'falling in love with boys will send you straight down to the devil'.

And this morning. While on the phone with Steve to confirm their plans for today. He realized. He realized, he's in love with Steve. Which he already kinda knew. But fuck. Now he knows.

Can't keep denying acknowledgment of the feeling at any level. After, over the phone, he told Steve, about how, he's been waiting since age 12, for Max to own up to feeding his secret stash of chocolate bars to the opossums in the alley beside their California apartment. And Steve laughed so hard. So so hard and loud and breathless until he gave himself the hiccups.

And that's when Billy knew beyond any doubt. That he had fallen in love with a boy. With Steve Harrington.

He honestly doesn't care whether or not that will send him straight down to hell. But he can't stop picturing his mother's soft face, turned dark and stormy and disgusted. And there's nothing, now, that he can ever do to trick himself into believing she might come back. She'd never come back for him now.

Which shouldn't hurt as much as it does. Because he doesn't really want to see her anymore. After everything he's gone through after being left behind. But it does hurt. A shit ton. Because even after everything, he knows he'd still run straight into her arms if she ever came back to hold them out for him again.

Sunday, carry me, carry me down to the water

Wash me clean

I'm still struggling

Ah ah ah

Steve's knocking, now. After some obscure amount of time. And Billy has no idea how long he's been lying here. Doesn't even remember moving down to the floor.

He should stand up. Go let Steve in. But... Steve has a key. Billy gave it to him the same day the government paid for his move to a homey townhouse just on the edge of Hawkins.

So Steve can get in by himself if he really wants to. Which Billy hopes he won't. Knows he will. And. If he's being truly honest, he hopes he will, too.

Steve does.

Sunday, bury me under the weight of who you need me to be

Can't you see

I'm struggling

Ah ah ah

Billy keeps his eyes held shut as he hears Steve's key turn in the lock. But hums low in response to Steve's questioning call of, "Billy?".

So Steve finds him easy. Stands still against the wall of the living room. Looking down at Billy. But only for a few seconds before he says, "Hey," and, "Is it okay if I turn on the light?".

So Billy replies, "You can, but. I wish you wouldn't."

He doesn't have to open his eyes to know that Steve is nodding as he carefully steps over Billy and into the kitchen. As he gets down on the floor and lays perpendicular to Billy. As he scoots to the side and lifts Billy's head up a little until it's resting on his lap.

Steve plays with his hair. Runs his fingers through it and works it into braids that he unravels seconds after finishing.

Mmm, mmm

Ah ah ah

After several minutes, or maybe longer, Steve asks, "You still wanting to go down to the river today?".

I keep God locked in a picture frame

So I feel a little better 'bout my numbered days

Yeah I confess

He asks simple. Like yes or no. Like Billy should say yes if he wants to and no if he doesn't. Like he should want what he wants. And Billy does want to go. He does.

He says, "Yes."

The questions and the answers seem to sound the same

I'm just like the rest

Standing tall pretending not to be afraid

Ah ah ah

Billy sits in the passenger seat of Steve's Beemer. He'd kinda wanted to sit in the back. Lay across the second row seats. Would rather be horizontal right now. But, he also wanted to be close to Steve. To grip Steve's hand in his own, between their seats. So Billy is sitting in the passenger side.

From behind the wheel, Steve asks, "Why did you hang up? Right after we were laughing about Max and the opossums?"

And Billy frowns, because, he doesn't remember doing that. Drowns, because, he doesn't want Steve to be upset. And then he just, says it like it is, says, "Sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't even realize."

So Steve says, "oh," and nods. The way he does when he's trying to think. Trying to think too hard.

Sunday carry me, carry me down to the water

Wash me clean

I'm still struggling

The river is loud. Roaring. It's July, so. It's warm, too.

Steve doesn't say anything when Billy strips down to his boxers and wades right in. Billy finds a solid rock in the middle of the current, and sits on top of it. The water reaches up to his elbows. And the current isn't strong enough to drag him away. It's nice.

Billy only has to wait a few dozen seconds before Steve is splashing in after him. Fully dressed. In beige chinos and a long sleeved polo. Black socks and leather boots.

And Billy knows Steve will complain about his wet clothes later. But he'll still do this same thing next week.

Sunday bury me under the weight of who you need me to be

Can't you see

I'm struggling

Ah ah ah

Billy thinks he might cry. Because he can't stop going back to how, his mom thought he was an ocean. But he's always been a river. Fresh and not salt. Mud and not sand. Alligators, not sharks.

And her favorite animal was a whale. Blue whale.

And there are no blue whales in rivers.

Sunday come around, lift me up again

Never too proud for a helping hand

I've been feeling down

Can you hear me now? (Ah ah ah)

But. Steve's favorites are crayfish and frogs. He loves plucking them out of the riverbed and bringing them over to show Billy.

Steve loves Billy because. Not despite. He loves him fully clothed in an Indiana river.

Sunday come around, lift me up again

I'm never too proud for a helping hand

I've been feeling down

Can you hear me now?

And while Billy's been contemplating, Steve's been wandering. And now he's drifting back, hands held closed over something living. And when he gets over to Billy, he smiles wide all the way up to his eyes. All the way to shining.

Says, "Found a little dude," and, "wanted you to see."

So Billy holds out his hand. And he's smiling too now. Shining alongside his favorite of river dwellers.

Sunday carry me, carry me down to the water

Wash me clean

I'm still struggling

Ah ah ah

It's a crayfish this time. Smooth and hard and pissy. It pinches the skin between Billy's thumb and pointer finger as Steve passes the little guy over. Though it doesn't really hurt.

But Steve still says, "Shit," and is fast on his way to saying sorry when Billy starts laughing.

He's laughing low and heavy and full. Because it doesn't hurt, but, if he doesn't laugh he'll probably cry. Because he's really happy. Really. And he'd been thinking this illicit happiness should feel wrong. That maybe he gets to be happy, but he doesn't get to feel warm about it. But it's not wrong. He was thinking all wrong. Because Steve and his crayfish feel like embers and soft candle light. Like crackling fall leaves and drunken beach-side bonfires.

Sunday bury me under the weight of who you need me to be

Can't you see

I'm struggling

Ah ah ah

And yes. Billy's mom would glare. But Stevie is smiling and back to shining and then laughing here with Billy. So it's not enough to spin the gold back into straw. It's not enough to dry out the flow of the river.

Aah, ah-ah-ah

Aah, ah-ah-ah (Ah ah ah)

Aah, ah-ah-ah

Aah, ah-ah-ah (Ah ah ah)

The crayfish had swum away sometime between the "shit" and the flooding of Billy's riverbank. And Steve has stepped closer. Billy wraps his arms around his love's waist. Pulls him further in. Steve reaches up, cradles Billy and his stubble in his palms. Leans forward until their foreheads are colliding. Softly.

But then he gasps. And whispers, "Wait. Billy, don't move."

Billy doesn't entirely listen, tilts his head down to follow Steve's gaze. And there it is. A spring peeper sitting in the curve of his right elbow.

The frog chirps a baritone melody. But it's a chorus frog. Can't reach a symphony without the rest of its choir.

Harmony. Billy gets it now. Why there need to be layers of sound.

So, "I hung up because, I've never been in love like this before."

Steve gives another one of his nods. Follows with a soft, "I know."

Billy can't help the harmonic smile or the single tear as, "Because, I do. I love you, Stevie."

And Steve keeps the crack in his voice with, "Well. I know I've said it before but, I love you too, Bills."

It makes sense now. It does. The months trapped in a parallel universe. The connection to a monster-forged body. The dying extension of self. The living reality. The asthma and the trauma and the phantom pain. And no. It doesn't make it worth it. But it helps it make sense.

Everything makes so much damn sense when Steve guides Billy's head to the curve of his neck and hums softy in tune with the lone spring peeper. Harmony.

59 notes · View notes

remmushound · 3 years

Text

Rise boys = Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello, and Michelangelo. Bay boys = Donnie, Raph, Mikey, and Leo.

This is a fic to lead into a Bayverse/Riseverse crossover! This is also an opening to make any requests for the bay/Rise interactions! I’m also accepting bay requests separate from the crossover! @brightlotusmoon

Link to second part: https://remmushound.tumblr.com/post/645470221504839680/brightlotusmoon-part-2-of-the-bayrise

The alarms sounded in the lair in the early morning, while Donnie was still in REM sleep and Mikey still wrapped himself snuggly in his blankets. When Raph still hugged the bear he always denied he owned and while even Leo still hadn’t woke to take advantage of the day. The only occupant of the lair that was awake was an old rat in the dojo, taking advantage of his son’s absence to meditate on current issues that worried his mind.

His ears jerked to attention as the nirvana of his mind was jarred with Donnie’s warning alarm. He was to his feet in an instant, and soon from their rooms came his sons one by one. Leo first, like always, closely followed by Donnie, and then Raph, and last Mikey.

“Dude, who turned on the screaming?”

“Talk to me Don.”

“Working on it!” Donnie was already at his desk, working a mile a minute to pull up the camera from where the alarm originated. “Got it— wait, that’s not right.”

“What is it?” As usually, Leo was hovering over Donnie’s shoulder and looking at the screen.

“Just looks like black to me.” Raph grunted from where he stood, a more respectable distance away.

“Yeah— it is— somethings up with the cameras.”

“What, they broke?”

“No, someone turned them off— and the only way they could do that is to hack into the camera’s systems—.”

“Which obviously didn't happen.” Leo said, “Could someone be covering the screen a different way?”

“Well, I mean, I guess, but—”

“Alright, then lets move out— try to get a better idea of what we’re dealing with here.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”

Leo held out his arm to stop Raph from running off immediately. “Careful, Raph. This could just be a sewer worker in over his head.”

“Yeah. Or it could be the Shredder.” Raph growled.

“Exactly. So be ready, but quiet. No use exposing ourselves if we don’t need to.”

Leo made the motion and Raph took point and was the first down the slide that took them out of the lair. Mikey was after him quickly. “Don’t worry, I’m a professional!” Mikey waved jazz hands.

“So am I.” Leo shoved Mikey down the slide after Raph. “Don, you next.”

“Arlight, but Leo I really think—”

Leo shoved Donnie into the tube the moment he got within sliding distance, and then gave it a few seconds before jumping in after him. The slide was a steep one, more like a straight drop than anything else, and eventually curving into a slope and then a tunnel. For a moment during the decent, Leo felt his shell leave the wall, and he braced himself for the jostling that came when he hit the curve straight on. He could see all three brothers in front of him in varying stages of the slide, Mikey making every attempt to loop around the length of the tunnel as many times as possible, which kindled his speed enough that he was dangerously close to colliding with Raph. He did another loop, narrowly avoiding the older turtle as he took the lead

“SNOOZE YOU LOSE, RAPH!”

“Mikey! Stop breaking formation!”

“Woah—“

Raph had to put on a quick break as he almost ran into Mikey’s shell, and the momentum made him spin around and slow. Before he could right himself, Donnie started to panic and tried to avoid raph by sliding over the walls as Mikey had, but it wasn’t fast enough and collided into Raph’s plastron.

“WATCH IT DONNIE!”

“THIS WASN’T MY INTENTION!”

“OUT OF THE WAY!” Leo just barely escaped another collision by doing the same move as Mikey, dodging the backup of his brothers as he sped after Mikey.

It took another half a minute for Raph and Donnie to detangle from each other, still sliding all the while.

“Move your arm!”

“Ow, that’s my leg—“

“I don’t care what it is, I’m gonna break it!”

“I’m trying— oh, my glasses—“

“Get offa me Don!”

“I’m struggling just as much as you are!”

Finally, Donnie got himself separated and held his position by digging his staff into the stone to defy the rushing water. He waited until Raphael had turned the corner before he let himself go once more to rush after him.

~~~~~

“Get back here.” Leo growled and grabbed Mikey the moment he caught up, turning the smaller turtle to face him.

“Ah— mercy—!”

“What’s up with breaking formation?”

Raph arrived, flying out of the slide and into the lower section of sewer, landing hard behind them.

“I coulda crushed you!” Raph gave Mikey a harsh shove.

“Hey hey hey, chillax, my dudes!” Mikey tried, holding his hands up in defeat. “I didn't mean to!”

“That’s not an excuse!”

Leo heard Donnie fly out and breathed a sigh. That was all of them.

“Guys, Quit fighting!” Donnie tried to get between them and Mikey. “We’re not alone here, remember?”

“Right.” Leo huffed, and made a motion for the brothers to follow him. “Remember— stick to the shadows and if we do find something, wait for my command before you do anything. Think you can handle that, Mikey?”

“What? I could do that in my sleep, bruh! I’m a shadow! You’re think I’m over here— hwa ha!” He fliped around Leo waving his nunchaku, “—but I’m really—over here!”

Leo prodded the handle of his sword into Mikey’s stomach to quiet him before he took the lead in climbing up the tube that led to the higher section of sewer. The walls were slick and lined with a thick layer of sludge, so getting a grip was difficult, but not impossible. Every so often he’d look down to make sure his brothers were following after him— Mikey, Donnie, and Raph in that order. If they were to fall, each brother would be able to catch the ones on top of him— Mikey could hold Leo, but if he fell then Donnie could catch both Mikey and Leo, and if all three fell, then Raph was at the bottom as backup.

Leo stopped as he reached the surface, just barely peeking his nose up over the edge. All he saw was dark sewer, and after a minute of searching every shadow and potential hiding space, he felt a sharp prod.

“Ow!”

“Move it!” Mikey insisted impatiently, “I don’t wanna look at your butt all day!”

Leo growled and retaliated with a careful kick to Mikey’s shoulder before pulling himselfup finally through the tunnel. He took another look around before turning to give his brothers the signal to follow, but Mikey was already through and Donnie was halfway out.

Leo made a ‘really guys?” motion and sighed, just letting the misdemeanor pass as his three brothers joined him in the dark tunnel.

“See anything Don?”

Donnie hummed and pulled his goggles down over his face to get a better view in the dark.

“Hm. Not picking up any heat signatures besides ours, but there’s splash marks on the walls higher than the current should be able to reach.”

“Meaning?”

“Something’s been splashing around here recently— the amount of residue is too big to be a rat. It could be a dog maybe, but that wouldn’t explain the camera…”

“Dude, it’s like, totally an aligator.”

“No it’s not.” Raph nudged his baby brother.

“No, dude, it totally is! I read about it once!”

“There are no gators in the sewer Mike.”

“Actually, there’s reports of gators living in the tunnels as far back as the nineteen twenties. The story goes that people would buy baby gators when they were small and cute and abandon them when they got too big to be kept in an apartment. The fascinating part is that the city actually rescues up to a hundred alligators a year from exotic breeders or incompetant owners with no liscence.”

“Donnie—“

“Though theoretically they could survive in the sewers for a short time, long-term survival would be highly improbable given cold tempatures and the bacteria in human feces. The only reason we can survive down here is because—“

“DONNIE.” Leo said, this time louder, “The alarm?”

“Oh. Right.” Donnie cleared his throat, looking away sadly as his rant went unfinished. “I… am detecting trace amounts of mutagen, but that could just be cross-contamination from one of us or Splinter. I’m sure someone would have told us if Bebop or Rocksteady escaped.”

There came a noise. A loud, jarring noise like the snap of metal. Each brother had their weapons ready before the sound even stopped echoing, dropping into their respective defense stances as they stared down the side of the tunnel that the noise came from. Nothing happened. A minute passed. Nothing.

“Think they left—?” Mikey was shushed thrice.

Leo gave the motion for his team to follow him as he lead the way down the tunnel.

“It could be an ambush.” Donnie whispered to Leo as they approached.

“If it is, we’ll be prepared—“

Leo held out his hand to stop his brothers as the sound started up again. It took a second, but eventually Leo took notice that it wasn’t the same sound. This time it wasn’t metal snapping, it was more like groaning. Like someone had taken two metal pipes and twisted them together. And there were footsteps— heavy, slow footsteps in uneven intervals.

“What in the world…?”

Leo squinted when a figure made itself known. It looked amost like a spider, with a massive, spiked body and five and a half legs. It seemed to have two heads each moving separately of the other, and the noises it made sounded like something under great strain or in pain. It swayed unsteadly before them and tried to take a step forward.

“Stop right there!” Leo commanded to the beast, holding his katana in its direction.

The monster seemed to understand., and it stopped.

“Leo, that’s—“

Leo shushed Donnie.

“But it’s—“

The figure tried to move toward them again and Leo flashed his sword in another threat. “I said stay back!”

“LEO!” Donnie didn't give Leo the chance to say anything, pulling up his goggles and flicking a flashlight on the creature. “Look…”

The creature— or more like creatures— flinched at the light shined in their faces. Of the six legs Leo had thought he’d seen, only two of them proved to be real, and the one creature turned out to be two. The smaller one was on the bottom, supporting a second, larger creature on his back. Leo, Raph, and Mikey all gasped and withdrew in their shock, but Donnie held steadfast and kept the light trained on the enemy.

The smaller creature was a dark green with stripes of purple streaking across him, purple armor torn and some lost all together. He only had one kneepad and both of his sock peices were soaked dark and torn. His elbow pads remained mostly untouched, and his hands were bare. Technology littered his body— goggles on his head and a tablet on his arm and a belt and shoulder straps that supported a massive shield over his back— over his shell. From the armor came four metal arms, one of them broken and the rest straining to support the immense weight on top of him.

The larger was big enough to cover his carrier almost like a blanket, hiding a majority of the small turtle beneath his massive plastron and bulking arms. He might have been a lighter shade of green— it was hard to tell in the lighting, and even then it hardly mattered. The only evidence the great beast was still living was the fact that he was moving his head around, just slightly. Thick streams of crimson bubbled forth from a gaping wound in his carapace, bleeding out and covering him in streams of shiny red that dripped down his arms and side and onto his companion. He gave the slightest groan at the light shining on him and tried to open his eyes.

“What the fuuuuu…?” Leo gaped.

The purple-clad mutant looked weakly to the four with tired, terrified eyes. “Help…”

He collapsed into the sewage.

#rise raphael #bayverse raph #bayverse leo #tmnt bayverse #bayverse donnie #bayverse mikey #rottmnt donnie #tmnt crossover

119 notes · View notes

cyntax-err0r · 3 years

Text

A Scoundrel’s Folly

Patches makes good, or at least tries to, on an old favour.

(2384 words)

“Why-“ Patches took a moment to pant out a few breaths, and rub away the blood leaking from his split cheek. “Why’d you do that? You could’ve been killed, you sorry fool.”

“I know,” the hunched over pale man with a peculiar hat covering his face said. “but you looked to have been in a tight spot. The name is Greirat.” He offered his hand to the bald man laid out against a box in the small fort ruins. His hat obscured every facial feature - even the eye holes sloppily cut out of the hat seemed to be blacked out.

Patches reached to shake his hand, but noticed Greirat held out a knitted handkerchief instead. “You can call me Patches.” He held the handkerchief over his cut. “I owe ya.”

That small memory flashed through Patches’ mind when the Ashen One approached him, asking if their little scavenger Greirat had returned.

“Not curled up in the dankest part of the sanctuary, is he?” Patches offered his suggestion on where he could be instead. The Ashen One shook their head, and said that Greirat had gone to Irithyll.

Patches kept a neutral air about him and told the Ashen One to wait another day longer. Internally, Patches had been struck with the stomach-churning flash of extreme worry.

Patches was not one to promise the day to anyone, nor did he promise little acts of kindness, nor did he ever offer anything in return for nothing. Just the same, no one had ever gone out of their way to perform an act of kindness for him, and no one had offered something in return for nothing. All except Greirat. The selfless scavenger had risked his life without a second thought, all to save the arrogant troll who spent his days punishing people he saw fit to receive his wrath. He had chosen the wrong person to invoke his wrath upon, but by some miraculous force, Greirat saw Patches deserving of safety.

Not one to be tied to earthly debts, Patches offered to repay his by way of equal exchange. “You saved my hide, I’ll save yours.” he told him.

But there was one glaring issue with the rescue plan. He was fresh out of armour. “God’s blood,” he muttered in disbelief to himself as he searched through his inventory of goods for any shred of sturdy enough armour. “I must have sold it off.”

The leather armour he currently wore wouldn’t be enough to withstand any blow dealt by the tyrannical Sulyvhan’s guard. It was, however, light enough to outrun Sulyvhan’s pup, as he affectionately referred to it, that guarded the bridge into Irithyll.

“Well,” he continued to speak to himself as he rubbed his chin. “maybe I’ll come across some dead fool’s armour…” He shook his head. No, no that was a terrible idea - relying on luck like that. The memory flashed through his head again, and the realization that Greirat wore nothing more but tattered cloth made Patches grind his teeth with indecision. If the skinny man can wear just scraps and throw his life on the line like that, so can the better built man.

“Alright, you don’t do it now and he dies, then-“ Patches groaned to himself. “-you’ll be stuck taking that debt to your grave.”

He paced back and forth before the mountain of items he had accumulated. “Fuck.” He swore. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, mother- fuck!” His voice raised with each word, until it echoed loud enough to startle the Firekeeper and Hawkwood out of his usual melancholic haze.

It was settled. He would attempt a rescue mission. With the souls he scrounged up, he paid a visit to the Shrine Maiden who had more than a few witty remarks. He ignored her abrasiveness for now and bought a few items he thought would make up for the lack of protection; green blossoms, a birch branch, and other such items.

He said not a single word to anyone. He brushed past the Firekeeper who, although without vision, watched on as the secretive man finally left the shrine.

The journey to Irithyll was one he took several times. He knew the ins and outs of the roads and where most hollowed undead hung about. Each time he was faced with the conundrum of taking the bridge and facing the beast, or scaling the perilous, slippery rocks down to the river and freezing.

From his vantage point among the pine trees that sprouted out from the top of the cliffs, Patches crouched low and watched as the alligator maw of the patrolling beast would spark up every now and again with lightning. He couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of going toe-to-toe with that ghastly beast. He had seen the way lightning burns before. It leaves jagged and black flesh in its wake, with skin still hot to the touch. Nothing like the burning of flames.

As arrogant as he was, Patches wasn’t an idiot. He settled for the slippery cliff, instead.

The slick, ice coated steps that lead into the water on the other side of the river would bring him up through the underworld of Irithyll. No doubt Greirat was looting the houses that contained no end of priceless pieces belonging to nobility.

Patches managed to scale down the cliff side without slipping, and slowly entered the water. Despite being undead, he could still feel the cold biting at his flesh and the numb sensation settle in his toes. He clenched his teeth as tight as he possibly could, and began to wade through the thigh deep water along the bank toward the steps across the way.

The sound of splashing water caught Patches’ attention. It was much more erratic and louder than the water he pushed around with his steps.

“What-“

The ground began to rumble, vibrating the water that stretched all across the river. The ear-piercing sound of what sounded like harsh wind blowing through a small slit resounded just behind Patches. He spun as quickly as he could in the semi-frozen water, and behind him the canine-like beast, twice the size of a human with a long snout filled with sharp teeth, stood on its hind legs. It inhaled, and at the back of its throat sparks of blinding light crackled.

Patches dove under the water, the lightning narrowly missing his head and instead hit the water, scattering all along the surface. Sparing no time, Patches kicked and thrashed his arms wildly in an attempt to swim out from the beast’s legs submerged in the water. He broke the surface with a gasp.

His movements weren’t quick enough, and a tooth of the beast caught Patches’ arm, flinging him through the air. A bloody gash was left behind. Patches landed on a chunk of solid ice floating in the water, close to the archway of the city’s undercroft.

The undercroft. That’s it!

The forceful landing knocked the air out of him, but he knew he didn’t have much time to recover. He rolled off the ice and into the water again, his arm stinging terribly. He ran through the water, skipping awkwardly to get above the thigh high sloshing. Just as he entered, the hot breath of the beast blew at the back of his neck. Patches dove for cover in the water as another bolt of lightning shot just above his head. He crawled through the water, digging his fingers into the earth beneath to gain enough traction and quickly get out of harm’s way. He crawled for cover to the right of the archway tunnel, and out of the beast’s sights.

He held the cut on his arm firm and heaved as quietly as he could. He peeked out from the stone archway, just enough to spot the beast sticking its long maw into the tunnel, sniffing around. It stopped suddenly. It couldn’t fit.

Patches nearly fell over into the now knee deep water of the undercroft, and sighed in relief. He remained as still as he could until the beast finally got bored and left. He looked around the undercroft he escaped into. Pillars of stone arched over him, holding up the city above. Bent metal spikes that served as little barricades sat tipped over and some discarded in the water. Who knew what they were for, but near them plants grew. Lastly, he noticed long, thin white skeletal bodies of strange insect-like creatures with long black hair. They laid face down in the water, dead. Someone had been here before.

Patches pushed himself up along the stone wall he sat against and made his way toward what he saw was a set of stairs that lead up to an alcove that hosted a faint, warm light. He limped himself up the stairs, and saw that it wasn’t an alcove at all. It was a kitchen, with a massive fireplace that roared with flames, and sat cross-legged before the flames were two distinct silhouettes; a rotund body with what looked like a mug in hand across from a small, thin body with a strange long hat who also held a mug.

Greirat was the first to hear his footsteps, and turned in surprise. “Oh,” he certainly sounded startled. “hello there.” He saw Patches’ arm and shook his head. “What brings you out here? You’re injured.”

“What what? Someone’s hurt?” Siegward turned his head the best he could in his armour towards the steps to the undercroft. “Well come on in, then!” Siegward rocked his body back and forth a few times before gaining the momentum to roll forward onto his feet. Patches watched on as the round knight plucked a pewter mug off the counter across the room and filled it with a thick, glowing liquid that sat steaming in the cauldron beside it.

“Here you are, old boy. My famous estus soup!” Siegward didn’t allow Patches to refute and shoved the mug, filled to the brim with the hot glowing liquid, into his free hand. “Drink up! That will set you right as rain.”

Patches gave it an experimental sniff. It smelled delectable enough, then gave it a taste. It was the best thing he had ever tasted. Patches greedily downed the mug, and as he drank the pain faded into nothing.

“Say,” Siegward started. Patches hadn’t noticed he stood examining his figure. “don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“You’ve met the terrible Patches before, have you, Siegward?” Greirat teased from his place by the fire.

Siegward mulled Patches’ name over by repeating it, but Patches hurriedly intervened. “Can’t say I’ve come across you, old boy.” He mocked Siegward’s affectionate nickname. He pushed past Siegward, who remained lost in his memory. “Greirat!” Patches called loudly with his arms spread wide as he approached the warm fire. He was finally beginning to dry. “How’ve you been?”

“Better now.” He answered, but tilted his head. “Did that beast rough you up a bit?”

Patches scoffed at the notion. “What, you think Sulyvhan’s dog can get the better of ol’ Patches? Think again, friend.” Meanwhile, Siegward was audibly humming in thought now.

“That gash on your arm proved otherwise.” Greirat pointed out playfully. He held no ounce of malice in his voice.

Patches squatted low before the flames. “‘Tis but a scratch. All healed up now.” He took this moment to divert the conversation. “That Ashen Tart told me you’d been here a while.”

It was made clear to Greirat why Patches had come all this way. Greirat chuckled gleefully beneath the hat he wore over his face. “Oh, oh ho ho, I see.”

Patches furrowed his brow. “What you laughing at?”

“I’m tickled you would come all this way for the life of a lowly thief.”

“I- I did not!” Patches huffed and took a sip from his mug - only to remember he had drank it all. “Lots of goods out here in rich people’s homes.”

“You can lie better than that - I know it.”

Patches growled out, “What of it?”

“Ah!” Siegward snapped his fingers the best he could through his gloves, catching the other two men’s attention. “I remember where I met you, old boy.”

As Siegward approached, the urge to bolt grew in Patches. Instead, he feigned an uneasy grin. “Oh? Where’s that, then?”

“I had been made a fool of by someone with that same bald dome of yours-“

“Now wait just a minute-“

“-and they stole this very armour.” Siegward gestured to his body. “Dear Ashen One found it and tossed it in the well that dastardly con-artist pushed me down.”

Siegward stopped before his old spot by the fire, and took his seat. “Now if my memory serves correct, I believe that scoundrel took the same name. He even had that big nose of yours.”

Silence settled among the three. Patches eyed up the Zewihander strapped to Siegward’s back. He tried to look him in the eye, but the slit in his helmet was too tiny to properly tell what expression the usually jolly man possessed.

“But you came here for your friend, didn’t you?” Siegward finally inquired after several moments of silent tension. “No one can truly be bad if they journey far for their friend’s safety. All is forgiven, so long as you don’t do that again.”

Patches released the breath he didn’t know he held. “This bloke saved you, did he?”

Greirat nodded. “And what a tight spot I was in.” He said. “I was running from that ghastly beast and fled into that low space you came from. I was cornered by those monsters.”

“And I was in here, trying to take a well needed nap.” Siegward declared. “But then I heard all the commotion, and knew those spidered women had someone in their trap.”

“So I was too late. Ah well,” Patches sighed, but put on a playful smile. “suppose I still need to hold up my end of the bargain.” He said to Greirat.

“I think coming here for me is plenty payback. You and your conscious are off the hook - not that you have much of one to begin with.”

Silence settled among them once more as they stared into the fire. This time the air wasn’t hostile, but instead, peaceful.

“So,” Siegward interrupted the peaceful moment. “who wants more soup?”

#unbreakable patches #dark souls #ds3 #greirat #siegward of catarina #Greirat the thief #I’m on mobile if you can’t tell #putting this here too because why not? plus it makes it seem like I’m making good progress on the painter fic #I mean I am but like I feel like I’m not going fast enough like I did before???? idk #fanfiction #fanfic #friendship #platonic #catch me on ao3 guys gals and nb pals #Cyntax_Error #ao3 #formatting is horrible I apologize lmaoooo #Liver Writes

19 notes · View notes

askdani · 3 years

Text

Tales of Dani - Chapter 2 - The Invasion (Part 2)

Having to abandon one of his blades, Leonardo continues to fight the Foot Bots at a construction site. He sliced, kicked, and stabbed all that stood in his way. As he watched the last one fall, Leonardo failed to notice that one of the bots he took down earlier grabbed his foot and tossed him down. He screams, falling into the icy water below.

A few blocks away, Dani was dodging every obstacle in her way while trying to figure out where Leonardo and the robot ninjas were. How could she lose them so fast? She then heard a scream. It sounded like it was coming from the construction site. She turn around and ran, hoping she wasn’t too late. ‘Hang on, Leonardo. I’m coming.’

Leonardo pulls himself back out and gets up into a fighting stance, panting. Shredder stares down at him, showing no emotion. The three mutants look to him in anticipation “Now you may finish him,” he says.

Tiger Claw, Rahzar, and Fishface jump down to the turtle, attacking him. They landed so many hits on him in his exhausted state. Something in Leonardo then snapped. With a battle cry, he grabs Fishface by his water tube and tosses him to the side. He attacks Rahzar from behind and kicks him. He lets out another cry and faces Tiger Claw, rolling along the ground to kick him low.

Leonardo gets up from the ground, catching his breath. In a flash of lightning, the Shredder was right behind him. Turning a moment too late, the turtle was struck down by his gauntlet.

Tiger Claw picks him up when his T-Phone rang. He pulls it out and looks at the messages from Michelangelo. “Dude, where are you!? Dude, we’re at April’s apartment. HURRY, Chumpy!” “They wait for him in the girl’s home,” he says. “Bait them out and destroy them,” his master orders. The three mutants leave the site, taking the fallen leader with them.

Shredder walks around a corner and sees Splinter looking at one of Leonardo’s katana blades. “Where is my son?” the rat asks. The Shredder laughs. “I’ve taken him like I took your child so many years ago.” Closing his fist in anger, Splinter ran to Shredder, and the two began to fight.

(MEANWHILE)

Water pours into Kirby’s face, making him wake up and see April and Michelangelo looking at him with worried faces. “I just had the worst dream,” he says. “The Kraang were trying to invade.” Michelangelo walks to him. “Don’t worry, Mr. O’Neil,” he says. “Reality is way worse than your nightmare.” Donatello smacks him in the head for freaking him out.

“We gotta move!” Raphael says, running into the apartment with Casey. “Kraang Prime is stomping this way!” “Raph!” Michelangelo hugs his brother, relieved that he is okay. “Aw, I missed you too, little brother,” he says, patting his shell. April runs to hug Casey. “I was scared I’d lost you forever!” she tells him. “No worries, red. Your man is here,” he says with a smile, unaware that Donatello was watching. “Not to break this up, but Leo is still out there!” he reminds everybody. “What!?” Raphael asks. Michelangelo responds, “Long story, bro. Basically-”

But before he could start telling Raphael what happened, Leonardo crashes through the window, sliding to a stop on the floor. “LEO!!”

(Back at the Construction Site)

Dani ran to the construction site, hoping to find the blue masked turtle. There were robot ninjas strode everywhere. She came to a sudden halt when she saw a katana blade that was stabbed through one of the bots. She recognized it. The blade belonged to Leonardo. Looking around in circles, Dani could not find him. ‘What happened here?’ she thought.

Suddenly, she heard more noises, voices that were unfamiliar to her. She took a closer look and saw a man in metal armor fighting a mutant rat. ‘Wait.. Is that... the great Splinter?’ Dani thought, remembering a time when Slash told her that a mutant rat raised the turtles as his sons and taught them ninjutsu. She doesn’t remember him telling her about a man in metal armor though. ‘Who is he?’ she thought.

“You grow tired! Your skills have become weak!” Shredder taunts, punching Splinter. “Yet I am stronger than ever! Fueled by anger, by rage!” He throws another punch, but Splinter blocks it and throws him to the ground. Dani watches from her hiding place, amazed at how the mutant rat fights. “Rage is a fuel that burns quickly,” he says. “Always the wise one,” Shredder responds, growling in anger. He throws three kunai blades at Splinter, which he has able to dodge. But it distracted him from a punch in the chest. Taking advantage, Shredder punched Splinter several times more and threw him against a crane. A load of pipes fell on top of the rat. Dani’s eyes widen. She pulls her blade out, ready to defend the mutant rat.

As Splinter strains to get free, Shredder reaches down and grabs him by his beard, ready to finish him with the blade of his gauntlet. “What wisdom do you have now?” Splinter glares in response. But before Shredder could bring his blade down and Dani could attack him from behind, Leatherhead breaks through a nearby wall and clamps his jaws around him.

Seeing that this was a distraction for the man in metal armor, Dani rushes to Splinter and strains as she tries to lift one of the pipes. Before the rat could ask the hooded girl who she was, she says, “Don’t worry! I’m on your side.”

The mutant alligator slams Shredder into the ground a few times and tosses him away. He turns over to see the hooded girl trying to remove the pipes that were on top of Splinter. He hurries over them. “My friend,” he asked. “Are you hurt?” But they were focused on something behind him. “LOOK OUT!” Dani shouts.

Leatherhead reacts too slow and Shredder attacks from behind. He roared and thrashed, managing to throw him off, only for him to be assaulted by Shredder’s fists. Splinter and Dani could only watch, their eyes widened in horror. Before he could recover, Shredder charges toward Leatherhead and kicks him down the same hole Leonardo fell in, splashing into the water below. “MONSTER!!!” Shredder turned and saw the girl that was wearing a cloak, glare at him.

Dani could feel nothing but anger. She didn’t know this mutant, but he didn’t to be murdered so ruthlessly. Shredder needs to pay. She closes her fist, grabs her sword, and charges toward the man in metal armor. “NO!” Splinter shouted.

She swung her blade at him several times, but Shredder kept dodging every move she made. He raised his other gauntlet, but before he brings it down, Dani grabs Leonardo’s katana and blades met with a clang. Now wielding two swords, Dani’s eyes were filled with rage and determination. She let her anger take control. She flips backwards and and continues to fight him. However, it didn’t last long when she missed again and Shredder punched her, making her tumble to the side.

Groaning in pain, Dani tries to get back up, only to be pinned by Shredder. “I don’t fear you,” she says, glaring at him. “Then you will die braver than most,” he responds, raising his gauntlet, ready to finish her.

Not wanting the same fate to happen to her, Splinter finds new strength, freeing himself from the pipes. Shredder turns to see the rat begin to attack him once more. He pushes him away from Dani. “Splinter!” she shouts, watching the two fall into the hole.

Dani crawls to the edge, staring at the hole in shock. Lasers suddenly fired at her. Shielding her head, she turns to see that the Kraang were coming toward her direction. ‘They must’ve followed me,’ she thought.

Looking back at the hole while trying to block lasers, Dani knew she had to make a choice. Go after Shredder or get herself to safety. “Remember what he told you,” she tells herself, getting up slowly. She grabs a smoke bomb from her pocket. “Splinter is a master ninja. He’ll win this battle... I hope.” She throws her smoke bomb at one of the droids and it goes off. When the smoke finally clears, the droids see that the girl disappeared.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

9 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

2 bathtub and 9 folklore, sternclay, sfw, please!

Here you go! Barclay's design is based on a blue catfish.

He wanted the bigfoot assignment. Days spent tramping through the chilly forests of the pacific northwest instead of sweating off a pound a day in Louisiana swamps. But no, he’s assigned to the Loup Garou case until further notice, because one mammalian cryptid expert is as good as another.

It’s not like he’s devoted most of his career to bigfoot or anything.

Contrary to popular belief, FBI agents do not spend all their time in suits. As much as Stern aims to emulate Special Agent Dale Cooper, slacks and a suit jacket are not suitable for tromping through the mud and staving off the humidity. Between his outdoor wear and the tranquilizer rifle over his shoulder, he looks like he could be in some shitty seventies Sasquatch hunting movie.

His best lead is the strange, black fur he found near the location of the most recent sighting, and the ranger in the nearby national park assured him it didn’t come from any common wildlife. So it could be a human cursed to transform into a wolf every night. Or it could just be someone’s dog.

Dusk has come and gone before he turns back towards his cabin, rented for it’s proximity to the supposedly-Loup-Garou-harboring swamp and the reviews citing good water pressure and a large tub. Nothing like a nice bath or cold shower to wash off the heat and grime of the day.

A crack in the trees to his right. There’s something moving, paralleling him. He stops, nerves taught as a drawn bow.

The growl starts low, draws his eyes to a dark-furred shape creeping from the brush. It’s definitely canine, definitely bigger than him, and definitely sees him as dinner. Stern holds his ground, raises the rifle, not willing to fire until he’s certain this is his quarry. All doubts evaporate when it stands on its hind legs and howls. Human eyes lock onto him as the monster stalks forward.

Stern fires, hitting the werewolf in the shoulder. It doesn’t so much as stumble.

“Shit” He loads another dart, fires, and gets the exact same result. There’s no chance of outrunning it, and while he has his handgun he doesn’t want to resort to that unless he absolutely has to.

The creature lunges and Stern dodges, slipping into the water as a result. It swipes a claw out, which he keeps from his face by blocking it with the body of the rifle. His brief hope that the creature can’t swim is quashed when it prowls into the water after him. Something huge swim past his legs and he winces; if he dies by alligator instead of werewolf he’ll never hear the end of it.

As the monster surges forward, something huge bursts from the water between them, knocking Stern off balance in the process. His head goes under and when he scrambles up, spluttering, the werewolf is limping as fast as it can into the undergrowth. And floating face-down in front of him is a man, four jagged rips in his side tinting the water around them a sickly red.

“Sir?” Stern rolls the man over and, in spite of all his training, exclaims, “holy shit.”

The man doesn’t have legs. His hips give way to a smooth, grey-blue tail that twitches weakly when Stern touches him. The wound is visible here too, marring tail and torso alike. It doesn’t take a genius to put together what happened. Or that the Loup Garou won’t make it far with the bite the merman delivered. He could catch it. But he doubts the mer in front of him will survive without medical attention.

He loops his arms under a limp body and makes a mental note to never, ever tell Agent Hayes about this.

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

Barclays’ whole side is burning.

“Ow, Aubrey, easy with the healing.” He groans, rolling away from the feeling and immediately bonking his head on something cold and solid. Cracking an eye open reveals a white tub and wooden wall. Cautiously, he glances at his stomach and side and finds it bandaged. When he manages another half-turn, he finds a dark-wood bathroom with a human slumped against the wall. It’s the one he saved, though he’s down to a thin white shirt and what he knows to be boxers. For all the blood there must have been, the room and tub are spotless.

He raises up, hoping for a better look at a handsome face, only to catch his side on the edge of the tub.

“OWfuck!”

The man jolts awake, is by Barclay’s side in an instant, “Thank the lord, I was worried you’d lost too much blood to pull through.” He runs a hand through his black hair, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I was trying to monitor you for signs I’d have to give up and call the paramedics. I, um, assumed you didn’t want to just be dragged into a human hospital.”

“Yeah, no, not my fave.” His tail flutters awkwardly, “uh, why did you bring me here, then?”

“Because I wasn’t going to leave you to bleed out in a swamp. I learned field medicine for a reason; it’s nice to use it on someone other than myself. Or, well, not nice, but, um-”

“No, I get it. It’s just that, uh, I have lots of friends in the swamp. One of them probably woulda found me. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble or put me in a tub.”

“Oh.” The human sags a little, his confident smile faltering a moment.

“I mean, I really appreciate it. And it looks like you’re good at, uh, stitches and stuff.” He rubs his arms, “uh, sorry. I’m not used to waking up in unfamiliar guys bathtubs.”

“I’m not in the habit of keeping mermen in my tub so, um, I guess we’re even?” His smile is a little shyer, blue eyes reminding Barclay of a spring sky.

The mer holds out the hand on his uninjured side, “I’m Barclay.”

“Joseph” The man shakes it, “it’s nice to meet you. Is, um, is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? Is the water alright? I can go get some from the swamp if that would be better.”

“As long as I don’t dry out I’ll be fine. Uh, do you have any food?”

“Some groceries, but if you want something specific I can run into town.”

Barclay weighs his hunger and wooziness against the desire not to reveal too much, and his stomach emerges triumphant, “Does this place have a take-out menu for the South Bank Cafe?”

“I...think so? Let me look” The human stands, walking out into another room on long legs that Barclay wants to loop around his waist, continues speaking as paper rustles, “I didn't know merpeople used take-out.”

“Uh, when they live close to humans they do. As long as some of those humans are willing to pick it up.”

Joseph returns, familiar pink menu in one hand and phone in the other, “What would you like?”

“Three fried oyster po’boys please.”

The human orders four of the sandwiches and some coconut cream pie on Barclay’s suggestion leaves the mer to nap while he goes to retrieve it. Charmingly, he puts all the food onto plates and pours the bottled sweet tea into glasses before arranging it on the bathroom floor.

“Cheers.” Joseph raises his glass. Barclay hesitates, trying to remember which human ritual this is, then clinks his own against it.

They barely talk until the plates are clean and Joseph is luxuriating in a second slice of pie, at which point the human explains what the fuck he was doing looking for a rougarou anyway. Barclay has given up on his desire to study the humans face as he eats and is laying on his back, eyes shut, feeling full and content in spite of the nagging pain in his side. Joseph reluctantly gave him painkillers, explaining he was worried about how human medicine would interact with mer biology. So far, all it’s done is made him drowsy.

“Barclay? Why did you get between me and the Loup Garou?”

“Because I didn’t want you to get killed. Like, for starters, I don’t want people to get hurt, and rougarous are nasty fuckers. But also when someone dies in the swamps, a lot of people blame mers for it. So it’s better if we keep humans from getting eaten on our turf.” He feels around for his tea, finds it when Joseph sets cool glass in his hand. His whole body is heavy.

A soft laugh, “Drugs kicking in?”

“Uh huh.”

A scuff as Joseph stands, “I’ll leave you to get some rest. I’m just in the next room, if you need me.” Two steps, then a pause, “actually, let me drain the tub some and put fresh water in.”

Barclay’s pretty sure he says thank you before he falls asleep.

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

Joseph wakes up at the cursing coming through the walls. Rounding the corner into the bathroom, he finds Barclay clutching his upper tail with one hand, gritting his teeth.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cramp, really fucking bad one, tends to happen when I get injured and can’t swim. Fuck me if I know why.”

“Here” he kneels next to the tub, water splashing onto his white tank top, “let me try rubbing it out. Is this the spot?”

“YeahOWoh, ohhhfuck” Barclay whimpers, “that’s helping, please keep going.”

He moves his fingers down the smooth skin, muscles spasming under his hands before they surrender to relaxation. Gradually Barclay un-tenses, his whimpers giving way to sighs, and Joseph isn’t really tending to his charlie horse anymore; he’s just petting his tail.

“Thanks, Jo-”

A scratch outside freezes them both. Joseph holds up his hand, signalling for Barclay to stay quiet. It’s the window. Something is opening the window. Worse, a count of five later, the cabin groans as something heavy reaches the floor.

His gun is in the other room, because he’s not about to sleep with it on his person. To get to it, he’ll have to put himself right in the path of the intruder dragging themselves across the floor.

The door creaks open, revealing red eyes in the darkness of the cabin.

“Shit.” He starts to stand, keeping himself between the threat and Barclay.

“There you are. Goodness, we were all worried sick.”

Joseph stays still, but Barclay tries to sit up, “Indrid!”

Their visitor slithers into the room, his upper body human but his tail reminding Stern of a Cottonmouth, “We’ve been looking for you all day; Dani found blood at your watch site but not you. I even swam to the park to ask Duck if he’d seen you.”

“Uh huh, I’m sure that was your only reason.”

“Hush.” He turns his alarming gaze on Joseph, “I saw you ending up with this human in many timelines, but I put off following them for fear of being seen. But he’s taking this rather well.”

“I’m an FBI agent with the UP. Handling strange phenomena with grace is basically my job.”

“Intriguing.” Indrid cocks his head, then his face goes blank for a moment. When life returns to it, he coils his tail to settle next to Barclay, “it seems the most positive timelines occur if you continue your convalescence here. In that case, I’ll leave you be and let the others know you’re alright. I’ll stop by again in a few days. And yes, Joseph, since you’re about to ask, I will knock this time.”

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

Barclay spends most of the next three days eating and sleeping, the combination of pain and painkillers making him sluggish. Joseph is better company than he ever could have hoped for, changing his bandages and sharing meals while regaling him with stories of the world beyond the swamps.

The human rises early, so he’s usually gone to work by the time Barclay wakes up. He’s feeling better this morning, so his internal clock wakes him just as the sound of water in the sink fills the room.

Joseph is bent over, naked from the waist up and using a coffee mug to dump water onto his hair. Beside him is a tube labeled, “compact body wipes.”

“Uh, what are you doing?”

The human starts, but then replies, “getting ready for the day. I have to go into town to meet with the sheriff about this case.”

“Can’t you just use the tub? I can make room, it’s big enough for both of us.”

Joseph’s whole torso is going pink, “I, um, assumed you didn’t want me randomly turning up in your space naked.”

He shrugs, “I’m naked right now.”

“Right.” Joseph gingerly sets the mug down, “right. I guess you are. Um. I don’t mean to be rude, since this is mainly a difference in mer and human culture, but would you be willing to close your eyes while I shower?”

Barclay nods, scoots to the far end of the tub while Joseph pulls the plug to keep the bath from overflowing. Then he shuts his eyes, focuses on the splashes up his legs, the change in the tempo of the falling water that signals it hitting a human body. Joseph showers efficiently, turns the steam mint scented with one of the bottles he keeps in the corner of the tub. Then he’s telling Barclay to open his eyes, towel wrapped around his waist and smile on his face.

“I feel much better.”

Barclay doesn’t bother to hide his staring, “Me too.”

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

Joseph hasn’t liked bathtime this much since his uncle gave him that rubber Nessie bath toy when he was five. Barclay is a much more enjoyable companion, even with his eyes closed. Joseph's also taken to wearing swim trunks and just sitting with him in the tub under the pretense of cooling off from the heat.

It’s not like his morning or evening rinse off lacks competition; Barclay is well enough that, through the use of a wheelbarrow, he can take trips to the back porch of the cabin to swim. His strength has weakened as a result of bedrest, but he’s improving quickly, and Joseph will often end up in the water with him to help him with particular stretches.

The first time another mer pops out of the water, he jumps with a combination of joy and alarm. Courtesy of Indrid, all the merfolk in the area know Joseph is trustworthy, which means he has even more people to question for his research. This is especially good because it means he and Barclay can talk about things other than work when they’re together. Barclay’s friends also offer information about the Loup Garou. So much, in fact, that Joseph determines there is something much larger than a single monster at play and is able to convince Hayes to let him continue the investigation indefinitely until he finds his answers.

When he gets the okay from his boss, he and Barclay celebrate with a massive dinner on the deck. As the mer hauls himself up out of the water after his final dip he slips, splashing sideways into a muddy patch. By the time Joseph gets them both inside, their skin and clothes are a mess.

“Here, let me rinse us off before I fill the tub for you.” Joseph turns on the shower, awkwardly straddling Barclay’s tail as he reaches to detach the head. He knows the mer is staring at him, his usually gentle gaze gaining an edge the way it always does when Joseph is down to his underwear or swim trunks. It doesn’t bother him; it seems a fair trade off for all the times he’s admired Barclays back and tail as he swam.

He turns, intending to hand the showerhead to the mer, only to lose his footing to a splotch of mud. It’s a graceless landing on his knees and Barclays’s tail, narrowly missing the fresh scar.

“Shit, that was close.”

“No kidding.” Barclay picks up the showerhead, turning it to a softer setting and rinsing off his tail. A teasing edge enters his rumble, “careful, might think you’re looking for ways to keep me here forever.”

“I guarantee none of them involve hurting you” he shuts his eyes as he lets the mer clean his neck. Then snaps them open when Barclay chuckles.

“That mean you have thought of some.”

“Yes. Not, um, not that I’d ever act on them. As much as I love your company, I don’t want you stuck in my tub forever.”

“You just want me to visit every day?”

“Um-”

“Or take you swimming in the evenings?”

“I-”

“Or let me finally watch you shower with my eyes open?” He flicks his tail playfully.

“I’ll admit all those crossed...my...mind.” Time turns to ice as Barclay leads forward, nuzzling his nose before bringing their lips together.

“Crossed mine too. I was so happy when you said you were staying.” He strokes Joseph’s cheek, “there’s so many fucking things I wanna do with you now that I’m getting better.”

“How many of them involve this tub?” Joseph kisses a teasing line across his cheek.

An adoring growl, “Plenty, babe.”

#sternclay #agent stern/Barclay #taz amnesty #mermay #mermay fills

16 notes · View notes

finis-ccronat-opus · 3 years

Text

She had watched, watched as Lawrence fell to his death. It had been so easy, just a shove and he was gone, just a shove and he was swallowed below the murky water. Nvidia blinked at the churning water as it continued to rise closer and closer to her platform. Just like that he was gone and she supposed she should be concerned by the apathy that lingered where… what else was she looking for… anything else should have been She’d just killed another person and yet she couldn’t find it in her to feel remorse.

He had wanted to die. Wanted to reach Paradise. She had only helped him.

That’s what she told herself as a canon sounded telling her he was gone, that officially she had taken a life. And she waited, eyes turning towards the pounding sky, waited for a hovercraft, or some sort of announcement. But none came and yet the water rushed up and over her toes and continued to climb. At least one more person was alive and Nvidia realized then that it was just a matter of time. Who could outlast the other. Who even was the other? She didn’t have to contemplate that the water reaching mid-calf now. She would die if she waited much longer, she couldn’t swim and those waters were unforgiving. So she climbed, adrenaline having taken over when she realized the waters were rising in the first place. She truly hoped this was the end as she shucked the bag she’d kept so dearly during the games and all the possessions within it.

Nvidia climbed as high as she could, stopping a few times along the way, gasping for air. The bridges and ladders were all failing and she had nearly fallen more than once. Who was the other person, or people? Were there more than one? Could whoever was left swim? If so she’d be toast. She didn’t see anyone, she realized, as she turned to look every which way from the platform in which it had all started. Someone had to be left though, or there’d be a hovercraft ready to take her to safety. Unless… a thought crossed her mind… were they going to let everyone die? There were two victors from six months prior, everyone could die and that’d right the wrong that was two victors in one games by no victors in the next.

“Um… hello!” She shouted, throwing her gaze up to the skies again. Her face was pounded by the rain, her hair was sticking to her face, completely flattened against her scalp in the onslaught of water. The water crept over the platform and Nvidia threw her gaze every which way, trying to find another tribute or a place to escape. The only thing she could see higher than the platform was the plane and as she searched the plane, a cry rang out and Nvidia’s eyes widened. So she wasn’t alone, someone else was here. She crept closer splashing through the water, maybe if she could just… But the thought stopped when she saw the little body there, Faith. And a breath caught when she realized the reason for her bone chilling cry, but her eyes widened in fascination and she crept closer still.

For Faith she was saddened, unlike for Lawrence. Faith was a child, misguided sure, but a child nonetheless and she didn’t deserve a death so brutal. She didn’t deserve to die at the hands - or rather jaws - of some gamemnaker created mutt. But wasn’t that what they were there for? The mutts? To ensure things ended sooner rather than later? They really were a work of wonder and awe for the girl who crept closer, staying just out of the reach of the blood tinged water. The animals were so lifelike, almost as if the game makers had taken them from their true habitat rather than created them. The way the alligator thrashed as it attacked in the murky water.

Nvidia had been so enthralled in the attack before her, a mixture of awe and disgust (Faith didn’t deserve this, she was a child, innocent and sweet, but Nvidia did nothing to stop the alligator), she had paid no mind to the water creeping further and further up her own body. What did it matter now? The games were almost over, unless someone had a snorkel and hid under the surface of the water at least which was unlikely. And by paying no mind to the water that crept up her body, she had missed the larger fish that had narrowed its attention in on her, missed it at least until its teeth sank into her own leg. She cried out, falling backwards into the water as she tried to shake her leg free. And suddenly she too was submerged in a sea of rust-colored waterShe kicked and smacked at the large fish, head reemerging from the water just in time to hear a canon sound. All she had to do now was last long enough until the hovercraft got to her. But her kicking and hitting only made the already angry fish even more angry and it trashed back, digging teeth deeper into her leg and she opened her mouth to cry out, to scream, but the fish had dragged her under the water again and instead she choked on water. The more she struggled the more the fish tore into flesh and muscle, the more the water resembled rust than mud. It took no more than twenty or thirty seconds from the time she was first pulled under the water for the claw to reach into the murk to retrieve her. But Nvidia wouldn’t be awake for it.

————————

When she woke it was to the sound of an air conditioner humming softly in the background and the sound of a steady beeping. The lights were dim when her eyes peaked open but they were still to bright and hurt her head. She closed them again before parting her eyelids once more, lifting her head to look around her surroundings.

“Congratulations, Nvidia.”

She startled at the sound of someone else in the room, her fight or flight quickly taking hold. She sat up, grabbing for the blankets that covered her and threw them to her side all in the seconds before the nurse could hurry to her side, shushing and carefully reaching to keep the newest victor where she was.

“You really shouldn’t move so much.”

But Nvidia had already frozen, eyes cast on the stark wide wrapping around her right thigh, bandages hiding the damaged caused by an arowana. Her fingers drifted to the bandages, barely touching the white fabric before her gaze caught a similar bandage around the opposite calf. She remembered the pain of both wounds, the tearing of flesh with the pinchers of a beetle, the infection that had started, but also the pain of her thigh being torn open, by a fish she couldn’t even see. Both pains were fresh in her mind but absent now and that was when she noticed the IV in the fold of her elbow.

“I’ll got get the doctor. She’ll be right in.”

And after a handful of footsteps echoing in the clicks of heels, Nvidia was left alone. Alone and awake. Alone, awake, and alive…. She had done it. She had won. She’d have to tell Yuri, maybe fighting skills weren’t all they were cracked up to be.

#games 126 #tw: blood #tw: child death #ft: faith #ft: lawrence #ft: yuri very small mention #only 2 days late #shhhhh #blame my class of 20 three year olds #and the full moon

4 notes · View notes

monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Mute male siren x female reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This is a tier reward for a lovely patron who wanted a siren who's never been able to use his voice, and is thus treated poorly by his own kind for being 'useless' in their eyes. Hope you enjoy!

It’s been up on my Patreon for a while now, so if you want to have access to stories before they go up on Tumblr, plus a number of exclusive rewards, access to our Discord server, polls, artwork, character concepts, etc. then head on over and check it out!

___

It was the eerie melody - almost more of a feeling in your chest than a sound in your ears - that drew you out onto the jetty from the beach where you’d been walking barefoot, flip-flops dangling from the fingers of one hand. You knew about the shoal of sirens who lived and hunted off the reef that guarded Starfall Bay, but you’d never seen them; they didn’t come too close to shore very often after all, preferring the vast open waters of the channel beyond.

Something about their song that afternoon seemed harsh, cruel, despite the plainchant beauty of it and a tear spilled from your eye before you’d even noticed it forming. The song faded as the sirens clearly dived back down again, and it left you strangely hollow. Humans were far from immune to the hunting calls and songs of those hauntingly strange creatures, and in the silent wake of their absence, you found yourself humming softly. The tune was a cheerful one as you tried to rally your spirits a little.

Squinting against the reflections of the strong summer sun against the rippling water, you clambered down to sit on the edge of the dock so that you could dangle your feet in the cool, clear water. A little crab scuttled around in the rocks beneath the jetty’s pilings, minding its own business, and you watched him for a bit. As the hairs on your arms prickled suddenly, you looked up and found that you were not alone.

Lying half slumped over a nearby rock which had been smoothed by the constant caress of the sea was a creature that was unmistakably a siren. You frowned, wondering what they could be doing just metres from the shoreline, and half-hauled out of the water. Something about their size and shape suggested that they were male, and you stared openly at the stunning colours of his tail and upper body. The thick muscle was covered with inky blue scales which were in turn dotted here and there with pearlescent scales. It brought to mind the clearest of night skies. The fan of his tail was feathered and spread out in the water behind him, while his upper body was smooth and free of scales. His skin there, however, was a dark blue-grey, and he had little fins of iridescent blue at his elbows. Plastered to his head and hanging halfway down his back, his hair was black as an oil slick, and he stared at you with huge, dolorous, sapphire eyes, blinking slowly.

“Hi,” you called, waving. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a siren up here before. Do you come here a lot?”

He waved back, somewhat hesitantly, and then gestured with a clawed hand at his throat, opening his mouth silently.

“Oh,” you said. “You don’t speak…? Is that right?”

In answer, he gave a slow, sad nod, those bright, completely blue eyes turning down to stare at a spot of vivid green seaweed on the rock.

Something about his dejected posture made you keep talking, so you asked, “Do you know Sign?”

His head jerked back up at that and he tilted it curiously to one side in a silent question.

“You know, Sign Language?” you asked. “It’s what people who can’t hear or talk - or sometimes both - use to communicate. They use their hands.”

The siren froze but his lips parted in soft astonishment, eyes wide with wonder. He clearly hadn’t known that there were other ways of expressing himself, and your heart twisted at the anguish in his storm-blue eyes.

“My friend teaches it,” you went on, thinking on your feet. “I don’t know it myself, but if you’d like to learn, I’m sure I can ask him for you.”

He nodded emphatically but then went still again.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He made an empty kind of cough, mouth opening in an unvoiced hiss of frustration - more of a choke, really - flashing razor sharp teeth. Then he looked back at you and rubbed his thumb against his fingertips in the gesture that said ‘money’ almost the world over. He’d clearly been around landfolk often enough to have picked that one up.

Waggling your legs slowly through the water as you thought, you pouted and then said, “I can ask if he’d be willing to help out anyway… He’s the kind of guy that would do that.”

The hope that kindled in those sad eyes nearly tore your chest in two.

“I’ll ask him right now. Hang on.”

One quick text later and Jera was agreeing to come down to the beach in ten minutes to meet the siren. The bright green of the lizardfolk’s tail seemed to fascinate your siren, and the two of them seemed to hit it off almost immediately. You couldn’t help but notice the way he flinched away though whenever either of you made a sudden gesture or raised your voices - even to laugh - and as you and Jera made your way back up the beach after promising to return the next morning, your friend voiced his concerns.

“For a siren to have no voice…” he muttered darkly. “He must be the lowest of the low… he…”

“He seems to desperate to communicate,” you commented.

Jera shook his head and made a soft growl like an alligator. “It’s more than that. They use their voices for everything: hunting, mating, socialising… Without that, he… he has no role, no function.”

Your heart ached for him and you said, “You mind if I sit in on the lessons too? That way he’s got me to talk to as well…”

“I kind of assumed you’d want that anyway,” Jera grinned. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

Over the next three weeks, you and Jera spent hours down at the shore with the siren. He was literate as it turned out, and at the start of your first lesson he wrote his name with a talon in the hard, wet sand.

“Ilta,” Jera repeated, looking up at him. “That means ‘evening’,” he added, and both of you eyed the starry night sky of Ilta’s tail.

“Appropriate,” you grinned and Ilta blushed darker. His face was so sharply defined, his features so intense and clearly belonging to a predator, that to see him turn a little softer sent a thrill through you.

When he saw the way you smiled, he signed, “Thank you,” with a hesitant and bashful hand.

One morning perhaps a month into your daily lessons, as you hurried through the town, with your heart fluttering and your chest light with excitement to see him again, your phone buzzed and you paused at the harbour to read the text.

Jera: Hey, I can’t make it today - something’s come up and they need me to cover for another member of staff at school. Sorry! x

You replied that it was fine, and that you and Ilta could practise together anyway. However, he wasn’t there when you got to your usual meeting spot in the cove, and a stab of worry hit you like a hammer blow. Eventually, after thirty long minutes of pacing the sand and staring at the water, the surface of the sea rippled in a rush of bubbles, and you saw Ilta’s dark tail propelling him towards you.

“Hey,” you called, waving to him, but when you saw how dejected he looked, how broken down, you knelt in the water, heedless of the splashing waves, and held out your arms to him. “Come here,” you murmured.

He lay in your lap, his chest heaving silently, and he flung his lean, muscular arms around your waist. Stroking his wet hair seemed to calm him and after a moment you felt him shiver. “Ilta, what happened?” you asked softly, but he only tightened his grip on you and buried his face from sight. “Ok, it’s ok,” you crooned. “I’m here.”

After a while, you recalled something that Jera had said about song being so important to the everyday life of a siren, and you began to hum quietly. It was the tune you’d sung on the day you’d first met him; a variation of a folk melody that had always cheered you up when your grandmother had sung it to you. Within seconds, his body went limp beneath your touch and he let his hands fall to the sand on either side of your thighs. He listened to you sing it through twice before he took a deep, shuddering breath, and then pushed himself upright.

His strange gaze met yours and he reached a lethally-clawed hand for your throat, his fingertips just brushing against your skin as you continued to sing. The urge to stop was overwhelming, but something made you keep humming. He blinked slowly, dark lips slightly parted, and he continued to touch you. Eventually he withdrew his hand and signed an embarrassed, “Thank you… I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” you asked, using your hands instead of your voice now.

He shuffled slightly, splashing you as he got comfortable enough that he could sit half-coiled up on himself, balanced and able to use both hands to speak. “Sorry,” he grinned as you wiped the droplets off your face with a quiet laugh. “I… I had a bad day with my shoal.”

“What do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes in frustration, though it wasn’t directed at you. “They use their voices on me,” he admitted.

“I don’t understand…” you said gently, movements of your hands small, quiet, faltering.

He turned his gaze back to meet yours and said, “You know how we hunt, right? We lure our prey in and then we use our voices to stun them. The sounds are…” he paused, frowning, searching for a way to explain it to you. “You know how some whales hunt by blasting sound at fish, making the air inside them expand or leaving them twitching and immobile…”

Horror slid into your stomach and you stared at him. “They did that to you?”

Ilta nodded. “They’ve always done it,” he went on. “But since I’ve been coming here and learning to talk another way, they’ve been doing it more and more. I… I can’t defend myself from that.”

“Can you leave?” you blurted aloud.

He shrugged. “Probably, but only if I stayed in and around the harbour. I learned to hunt in the shallows the way other merfolk do, with a spear of sharpened shell, but they think that’s hilarious of course.”

You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and he smiled broadly.

“What?”

“I love the noises you make,” he said. “Sometimes it’s just really cute and other times it’s beautiful. You have a lovely voice you know?”

You snorted softly, flushing. “You should have heard my grandmother. She was a real singer.”

“What’s a real singer?” he asked.

“You know, someone who sings for audiences… People pay to come and hear her…”

“Oh,” he said. “You sang for me though,” he added, his movements suddenly shrinking down to barely-there twitches of his hands. He’d picked it up much more quickly than you had, and you almost missed what he said.

“I couldn’t think of any other way to make you feel better,” you said shyly. “Did it work?”

“Yeah.” It was obvious that there was more to it though, but he didn’t go on immediately.

“Did… Did I do something wrong?” you asked, trying to catch his eye but he was too busy looking at a patch of bare sand just beside you.

He shook his head.

“Then what is it…?”

He swallowed and looked up at you at last. “It’s something a mate might do,” he said with trembling fingers. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before. I thought they never would… you know… because of…” he finished by gesturing weakly at his voiceless throat.

Feeling brave, you reached for his face and traced your thumb across his cheekbone. “Ilta,” you said and he brought his hand up to your throat again before dropping it so that he could speak.

“I love your voice,” he said. “I wish I could sing for you. I wish… I…” His hands fell limply into the water beside his tail and he sighed. Slowly he brought the fingers of his right hand up to his own throat, claws digging into the muscle of his neck. For a horrible moment you thought he might hurt himself, but he relaxed a second later and opened his mouth. As he exhaled, gills flaring briefly in his neck, he let out a wet choking sound. It was just air in his throat, with no vocalisation at all. “I can’t,” he signed. “I’ve never been able to…”

You took his hands in yours briefly once he’d stopped talking and kissed his knuckles gently. “I know it’s… it’s been awful for you,” you said as you continued to kiss his cold skin, “But… I think that not having a voice has made you partly who you are. I’m not saying I wouldn’t love you if you could sing, but… I love who you are, Ilta. I love spending time with you and listening to your stories about what it’s like underwater… I would never have known any of that if I hadn’t met you.”

Ilta listened to your words and stared at you, stunned, barely breathing. Eventually he slid his hands free of yours and asked, “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you reassured him.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked immediately, and when you nodded, he grinned again.

He knocked you back into the sand, pressing his whole body against yours, and it was as if his touch became his song. Silently, he sculpted his feelings for you against your skin, running his hands up your legs, his gills working as he became more and more aroused by the feel of you. He lifted your top and raked his teeth over your warm skin, making you gasp and cry out. The cove was mercifully pretty empty, with only a few people about, but they were a long way off.

His fluke flailed in the surf as he dragged himself up towards your shoulders, his body still pressed along yours. His long hair fell to one side and you looked up into his eyes. “You were going to kiss me,” you grinned.

Ilta’s answering smile was sharp and wicked but full of fondness, and he kissed you hard enough that you let out a low moan. One of his cold hands wrapped lightly around your throat as you continued to mewl and groan under his touch, and you knew that his touch was his answering song for you. Together, the two of you made a song of your own. When you said as much, he tipped his head back, almost in victory, and rutted up against your thigh, his scales suddenly slick where they touched you.

Ilta continued to touch you with reverence and wonder until you could no longer stop the sounds from falling from you. He took every single one of them and returned them with his body until the two of you were gasping together, sharing a breath as he spilled his release across your thighs, his forehead pressed to your collarbones and his fingers tangled in your hair.

With one final, soft, decadent moan, you kissed the top of his head and he signed something vague that might have been ‘thank you’ but you weren’t quite sure. To be fair though, you weren’t in a much better position to be articulating anything either.

—

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher!

#merman #siren #exophilia #monster boyfriend #merman boyfriend #siren boyfriend #sign language #mute character #patreon reward #commission

2K notes · View notes

jayde-jots · 3 years

Text

Bigg City Riders!AU + Giants!AU (Ch: 3) Up River

Chap 3 of what if @bigg-city-riders-au Riders!AU met my Giant!AU.

As Sunshine travelled down river with some parts for the breakers yard, he also wanted to stop for some salmon at the riders headquarters once he was finished. When he was and heading back down river, he turned into the siding that lead into the falls of the headquarters, but what he saw when he came to the clearing before them, was an odd sight.

Billy Shoepack was there to and was just watching a creature that was asleep on the shoreline before the falls to the entrance of the headquarters. The creature was extremely pale and looked humanoid, it was asleep snoring softly with its heads in its arms acting as a pillow.

Sunshine blew his whistle to get Billy’s attention and when the alligator tug turned and saw him he chuffed a greeting and Sunshine returned the gesture. “Hey Sunshine, how are things?” the white tug asked. “Pretty good, though I don’t think you could be saying that. What is this?” Sunshine asked stopping next to Billy to have a look with him.

“Don’t know, I was just coming down here to scope out the place when I saw this guy sleeping down here. He woke up and took a glance at me before he rested his head back down.” Billy said looking back at the giant. “Can it talk?” Sunshine asked. “Don’t know. If he can he hasn’t said anything.” “Are you sure it’s a boy?” “Yep, the face I saw didn’t belong to a girl.” “Has he done anything other than look at you?” “He’s slept and that’s it.” “Have you tried to get him up?” “I’ve been debating on what I can do. If I try to fight him I’m pretty sure he’d win, and even then he’s not hurting anybody so that wouldn’t seem fair, but before you came I’ve been debating using dynamite to scare him off.”

The giant lifted his head up at that, revealing it’s pink eyes and blond curly hair, as well as long naked rabbit-like ears with identical cuts in them at the tips. It glared at Billy in stern before it huffed and rested its chin on its arm and fell back asleep again.

The two small tugs were surprised for a second before Sunshine came around first. “Hey hold up, I saw that look in your eyes, you understood us perfectly, get up! We need to talk.” Sunshine called. The giant opened its eyes for a glance before closing them again, then using its ear closest to them to roughly splash the water, sending a wave pushing them back. “Wah!” “Gah!” the two chirped in surprise as they were floated away a bit, though they only got a few meters.

Sunshine made a small cats growl when he sailed back up to the giant, his tow rope flickering behind him in agitation. “Alright mister, this waterfall area here is a privet place only for us tugs. Which means you can’t be here. If you don’t leave we’ll be forced to get back up, or use drastic measures.” Sunshine said growling and with his clawed anchor ready to slash. The giant just made- ‘snrk!’ sound finding the little tug amusing but otherwise didn’t move, he only gently baped the tug on the head with his ear and then flicked it around Sunshine, pushing him back a little.

The young tug didn’t take kindly to this so he actually caught the giants ear with his anchor and pulled it down to his level and began to bite it and chew on it. Sunshine held on to see how the giant would react to his venom, but was surprised to see when it did quite literally nothing. Except the giant chuckled though. He yanked his ear free and began to wiggle it above Sunshine, as if teasing him to grab it again. The little tug tried to grab it a second time but the giant just moved his ear out of the way, this repeated for a few times to the point Billy had to step in. “Sunshine, Sunshine… he’s just playing with you by this point. I don’t actually think your venom did anything to him ether, he’s probably somehow immune.” Billy said pulling his friend back.

Sunshine made a small hiss as he backed away, this giant was toying with them and Sunshine was quite frankly not used to that. The giant even chuckled a bit having turned to face them at some point and adorning a lazy smile on his lips, he was clearly amused at least. He then yawned widely and moved to lay down on his back, the earth shook and rippled the water as he hefted his body revealing that the giant was a little on the pudgy side when his belly was in the air. He stretched and folded his arms behind his head, taking in the midday sun with a contempt smile. He then began to purr, a deep rumble vibrating the water.

Billy couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, confusing Sunshine. “What’s so funny?” the Star tug asked. “Heh, he’s like an overweight cat, I don’t think he’s here to cause trouble Sunshine, just here to take a bit of a snooze.” The giant paused purring for a second at the comment and gave Billy a look then went back to sun bathing in bliss and purrs.

“We still can’t have him here Billy, what if someone needs to use the headquarters? He’s clearly smart, so if he sees how to enter, that could cause problems.” Sunshine warned. “Are these headquarters that important to you?” a voice spoke.

The two tugs froze and turned slowly in sync to have a look at the giant as the voice came from his direction. The giant was looking at them from an upside down angle over his arms that he had behind his head, his attention clearly on them. “Did… did you just speak?” Billy asked. “No it was the wind, -yes I just spoke.” The giant said with his tone heavily laced in sarcasm.

Sunshine and Billy just stared, they weren’t expecting that. “Well uh, to answer your question. Yes, the headquarters means a bit to us, it’s secret and supposed to stay secret.” Billy said. “I can already hear something behind the waterfall, and have for a few hours now. So to say it’s a secret is not very true.” That now really worried Billy and Sunshine, they couldn’t have this guy walk in.

“What? Do you actually think I’m going to go in there? Way too small for me and all the better stuff is outside anyway. I got no business with it.” That actually surprised the two, but when they thought it over it actually made perfect sense. They then felt a little silly not realizing it sooner. “Well… I suppose we can let ya sit here, as long as you tell nobody about it.” Sunshine said sailing past the giant. “And give up my resting spot at the same time? Hell no. You guys scratch my back I scratch yours, that sound fair?” “Works just fine! Uh, Sunshine? Did you come here for something?” Billy asked. The other tug then remembered why he came up here in the first place. “Oh yeah! I was just going to go and get some fish then head back to the dock, care to join Billy?” “Nah I’m fine, I was just doing my rounds when I saw this guy. …Speaking of whom, what’s your name?” Billy asked the still lazy giant.

“Zak.”

#this is tugs #giant!au #cinder scribbles #bigg city port #curse!au

3 notes · View notes