The human steps onto the station from her shuttle, and walks into the scanner. It flashes - no weapons. I pity her, though there’s nothing I can do for her. By tomorrow she will be a slave the same as me; the Gaunvans collect ambassadors like trophies.
“Hello there! Amanda Thorn, ambassador for the Empire of Humanity. You’re a Ixian, correct?”
Mimicking human body language, I nod my head. "That’s correct. Ix Malasan. It is an honor to meet you.“
She smiles, reminding me again that she has somehow modified herself to breathe atmosphere suited to the Gaunvans rather than wear a respirator like myself. Other than that she appears to be a standard human, something I am led to believe is less and less common as they pursue the bizarre compulsion humans have to alter their bodies. Changing hair color, adding pigments to their skins in patterns and pictures, growing long tails or ears that mimic other species from their planet. No other known species tampers with their bodies like this.
“Not to be undiplomatic, she says, "but the Gaunvans enslaved your people. Why are you here?”
“We… reached a mutually beneficial agreement. We would have lost in combat and been eliminated, so we chose to preserve what we could of our culture. The Gaunvans are not naturally skilled at diplomacy, so they bring me along to assist and to show that peace can be made.”
She nods. "Understood. I can respect that choice. How much freedom do you have, personally?“
Smart of her, to start planning for her future. "A fair amount. I have free reign on the ship when we are in transit. At the homeworld I have reasonably comfortable quarters.”
“Have you ever met the Empress, or…?”
“Oh, no. No, while on the homeworld I am confined to my chambers - but they’re quite spacious.”
“Shame. Okay, plan ‘A’ then. Let’s get this over with.”
Despite my attempt at encouraging diplomacy, the Gaunvan commander starts with threats. I don’t know why I bother. He looms over the human, chitinous plates almost black in the dim light. His pod of six is posted around the room, for show more than for actual security since she followed orders and came alone and unarmed. "Failure to surrender will bring the full wrath of our army upon you. Humanity will be crushed, and wiped from the universe.“
To her credit, she looks very calm. "We live in a post-scarcity society. Bloody conquest just seems silly, doesn’t it?”
“It is for the glory of Gaun!”
“Well, I’m not prepared to get into a religious debate with you,” she says, “since I doubt there’s anything I can do to change your mind. Since you’re committed to this course of action, what are you willing to offer if we surrender?”
Now he goes back on script. Maybe I am getting through to him a little? He talks about the benefits of being enslaved, mainly the protections for up to twelve designated culturally historical sites. They’ve been mostly good on their word on my homeworld, though they did use the area just outside of the Hahhn Memorial as a waste dump.
She nods as she listens. There was a part of me that was worried she would argue, because the humans are somewhat childlike. They don’t understand the horrors of war. Certainly they fought in the past, but the last time they had to battle was more than two of their generations ago, so these ones have all grown up coddled and soft. They play games with each other instead, silly competitions. They make art, and play pretend, and alter their bodies for fun. They don’t have weapons anymore, and wouldn’t know how to use them if they did.
“Well then,” ambassador Thorn says, “this is about what I expected. On behalf of humanity, I would like to formally reject this offer.”
Oh no. Foolish humans. The galaxy will miss your innocence. The commander makes an excited clicking noise, looking forward to combat. He reaches a blade-tipped hand towards ambassador Thorn, but hesitates as every device in the room bleats out an alert - we’ve all lost communications with the outside.
Like one of the dances humans do, she gracefully pivots around while taking his hand. She ends up close to him and places her other arm against his thorax, then… oh gods. Gods, what… she’s ripped his arm off. It’s not possible. The commander is clearly thinking the same thing, staring in mute shock at his dripping limb.
“I’d like to extend a counter-offer,” she says, and flips the arm around before jamming the bladed end into his neck. The warriors around the room are fidgeting, uncertain. They haven’t been told to attack, and don’t want to dishonor their commander by intervening in a fight with such a small creature. She’s still holding the commander’s severed arm in his neck, but she rotates and heaves, lifting him off the ground with it for a moment… and then his head pops off, landing squarely on the conference table. She allows the corpse to slide to the ground, and straightens her clothes as if they aren’t covered in ichor.
I don’t understand.
The warriors, now with no orders at all, finally act. She smiles as they come for her, I suppose because she has done her duty to send this powerful message of resistance. She can die in peace. Or… no… She’s killing them. She’s smiling because this is fun for her. Though they’re partly killing themselves; if there had been two of them, prepared, strategic, they might have prevailed. Watching six panicked fighters get in each other’s way while trying to stop a smaller, faster, and somehow impossibly stronger foe is almost hypnotic. At least one is killed by the stab of a friendly lance due to pure confusion. It’s over faster than I would have thought possible, severed limbs strewn across the room. I’ve got some fluids splashed across my clothing. Only one yet lives, and he is retreating. She seems to be allowing it.
She follows behind, holding a lance. The wounded and scared warrior scurries down the hallway towards his ship, looking back behind him as he goes. She’s just… walking. Calm. And for some reason I’m following. The last Gaunvan reaches the airlock and the second he enters his code she throws the lance - throws it! - and spears him.
“Come on, we’re stealing their ship.” She says it like this is the most normal thing in the world.
“There are thousands more on board! Thousands! Almost all warrior caste!”
She smiles again, and keeps walking. I see errors on the screens that we pass, messages indicating communications have been lost. They can’t tell anyone what is happening here. Even the communicators within the ship are on nodes rather than being wired, so the warriors at one end of the vessel won’t be able to coordinate with the other end. Do they even know they’ve been boarded?
We enter the bridge after she kills a handful of other guards with ease. They’re too shocked by her presence to act in time. Once the door are sealed and she is working on the control systems she starts talking to me again.
“Well, you know, we do like to be prepared.”
“But you… you ripped his arm off.”
“Yeah, that was super satisfying.” She looks at me appraisingly. "Oh, come on. Is it really that surprising? You knew we were into changing ourselves, right? Being strong enough to pop an overgrown bug’s forelimb off isn’t rocket science.“
"Your people are so peaceful…”
“Oh, sure, most of them. But we did that, too. Tweaked ourselves over the years to decrease aggression and some of our tribalistic tendencies, increase empathy… all stuff that can be undone if needed. Though for a good cause even the nicest of us can squish a bug or two.”
“You bond with Ry'ling devourers!”
“Those are the big fuzzy guys that look like cats, yeah? Those guys are adorable! But… look, liking some things that could kill us doesn’t mean we’ll sit back and get enslaved. We didn’t put up with it well when we enslaved each other, and we certainly aren’t going to go for it now that we’re… finally… on the same page about slavery being unacceptable. It was, uh, a longer time than we like to admit before the last hold-outs were convinced of that one.”
I can feel the ship un-dock. We’re moving. "What about all the warriors on board? They’ll break through the doors eventually!“
"Not according to this control panel here. Take a look.”
It says there’s no atmosphere in the rest of the ship. Life signs are negative on all but two of the warriors, presumably the only ones that got to their suits in time. She disabled all the safety measures, somehow. She just killed… I check the life signs readout again to confirm the number… three thousand, six hundred, and fourteen soldiers. Wait, how is it tracking that unless… “Are communications back up?”
“Yeah, I’m calling some friends. The military is right around the corner, so to speak.”
“But Earth doesn’t have a standing military.”
She laughs. Not just a little bit. She’s actually doubled over for a moment, unable to catch her breath. "Sweet Jeebus, you guys actually fell for that? No standing military. Have you read about us at all?“
Three ships appear seemingly out of nowhere, and one docks with the Gaunvan vessel. Once the atmosphere is restored we head to the airlock to meet them, and I’m surprised by an entire platoon of Gaunvan warriors. Speaking English.
"Okay boys, send your last goodbyes! This is in all likelihood a one way mission. Commander Thorn! It is an honor to see you again, and might I say you look exquisite drenched in the blood of your enemies!”
She bows to him, blushing, and then salutes the Gaunvans. Or… humans? Can they change themselves this drastically?
“You’ve got two holed up in here somewhere. Bridge is clear, have the techs bring the new brain on board.”
She looks at me like she’s forgotten that I’m here, and then turns back to the others. "Men, this is our new friend Ix Malasan who has just been liberated from his captivity. He’s going to be helping with our intel. Malasan, yeah, a new brain for the ship. Once this vessel is cleaned up and back in service with a new crew we’ll be able to take it over whenever we want even if all of our boys get killed. We cooked up a really sadistic AI for it.“
"But how do you know the protocols? This was your first contact with the Gaunvans, they’ve never lost a ship anywhere near here!”
“No? There wasn’t a mining colony disaster two years ago?”
“But that was just an accident… and you weren’t even involved in the war yet… and…”
The faux-Gaunvans have finished boarding. The one that was talking to them before puts a bladed claw on ambassador - commander - Thorn’s shoulder. "You coming with?“
"Naw. Orders said I could only come if they allow ambassadors near extremely high value targets. Malasan here says they don’t, so I need to wait for my next mission back on Earth.”
“It would have been nice having you with us, Thorn. Well, maybe we’ll see each other again. Suicide mission or not, I think I’ve decided to live through it.”
“Bold choice,” she says, and kisses him next to his lower mandibles.
He nods at me, then turns back to his men. “Okay everyone, we are now officially on the job. And what is that job?”
In unison, they start chanting.
“FUCK! SHIT! UP! FUCK! SHIT! UP! FUCK! SHIT! UP!”
For a moment I nearly feel pity for the Gaunvans. Nearly. Commander Thorn leads me off of the ship, and I start thinking about what useful information I can provide the ‘harmless’ humans. Fuck shit up, indeed.
“All I’m saying is, if you’re going to use the dishes, then maybe you could wash a few dishes!”
“I wash dishes!”
“Running a little water over them and leaving them in the sink is not washing them, Sam!”
“Just because I don’t always wash my dishes the second I’m done eating–”
“The second you’re done eating?! Sam, do you see this bowl here? Little bits of lettuce and salad dressing and bacon bits? We both know it’s yours. You used this four days ago!”
Dean and Sam storm through the bunker kitchen, arms flailing, feet stomping.
“I’m just so sick of doing all the cleaning around here!” Dean shouts, slamming a pot into the sink.
“All the cleaning? All the cleaning? Really Dean? When was the last time you put away a book?”
Dean groans. “Help me out here, Cas. Tell him–” Dean looks around, brows furrowed. “Uh, Sam? Wasn’t Cas here?”
“Yeah.” Sam says. “He did it again.”
Dean sighs. “He really hates it when we fight.”
When Cas blinks back an hour later Dean is re-shelving books (in their proper places) and Sam is cleaning the kitchen. “Sorry Cas,” Sam says. “Dean’s in the library.”
Cas nods and turns to go. “For the record,” he says, “I like it better when the dishes are done right away, too. But I feel the far worse infraction is Dean waiting three weeks to do his laundry.”
Sam’s surprised laughter follows him down the hall.
Dean has the last three books in his arms when Cas walks into the library. He looks up, a concerned look on his face. “You okay, Cas?” He sets the books back on the table and meets Cas, searching his eyes.
“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas says, a smile playing at the edge of his mouth. “I just needed to…get away.”
“Where do you go?” Dean asks, suddenly curious. “When you get irritated or angry and you zap away, I mean. Do you have someplace special you like to go?”
Cas looks away. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you,” he mumbles.
Dean closes the rest of the space between them, putting his arms around Cas. “Well that settles it then. Now you have to show me. You can’t be all mysterious like that and just leave it.”
“You don’t like to fly,” Cas says evasively.
Dean kisses his forehead. “I like to do anything with you.”
“Alright,” Cas says, resigned. “Let’s go.”
“But this…this can’t be…” He runs his fingers through his hair, turns in place, stares at his surroundings in disbelief. This just isn’t possible.
He recognizes the place, of course. He had been here with Cas. He’d sat right here (only there was a chair then), looked across this lake, at these trees. He’d looked up into warm blue eyes, blue as the sky…
But this is impossible, because that had been a dream.
He turns to Cas. “Where are we, Cas? Because this…this was in my head.” His eyes widen as a thought strikes him. “Please tell me we are not in my head.”
Cas gazes at soft white clouds passing lazily overhead. “No, Dean. We are not in your head. This is real. We’re in Minnesota.”
Crouching on the dock, Dean splashes his hand in the water. “Wet. Cool.” he mutters, more to himself than to Cas. Louder, he says, “I still don’t understand. How can this be real?”
Cas sits next to Dean, who sits properly and scoots closer to Cas without much thought. Their feet dangle over the edge of the dock, their shoes about two inches above the clear water. “When I visited you in your dream, I knew right away you were dreaming of someplace you’d seen before. The setting was too clear, too detailed, to be anything else. Most dreams are, well, dreamy. The immediate area may seem normal but the edges are hazy. Your dream was sharp. It all felt real. You must have come here with your father, or maybe with Bobby, when you were a small child.”
Dean shakes his head; not denying anything, just trying to find a lost memory. “Definitely Bobby. Dad never took us fishing. His idea of a vacation was a nice, relaxing salt and burn. I don’t remember it, though.”
A splash makes Dean jump. “Just a fish,” Cas says, taking Dean’s hand and squeezing it gently.
Dean laughs. “I’m used to more perilous situations, I guess.” He looks at the trees surrounding the lake, noticing the lack of people or cabins or even other docks. “Cas, this place seems to be in the middle of nowhere. How did you ever find it?”
“I believe the expression is ‘like finding a needle in a haystack,’” Cas says drily. “It took over six months of searching. Finding a person is fairly simple; humans each resonate with minute differences. But to find a specific dock on a specific lake…I had to use my eyes. I had to fly to lake after lake. I had a good guess that you were in the United States, because I didn’t think you’d traveled out of the country as a child, and there was a bit of snow in your memory, so I started with the northern states…” Cas waves his hand as if to indicate it hadn’t been too bad.
Dean gapes at him. “Six months? You spent six months flying around looking for…this?” He slaps his free hand on the dock beside him and then rubs the back of his neck. “Cas, why?”
Cas looks at Dean with genuine surprise in his eyes. “I was here with you, Dean. You clearly felt peace here. I wanted that too.”
Dean leans forward and captures Cas’s lips with his own. After a moment he pulls away, breathless. “Did it work? Does this place bring you peace?”
“Always,” Cas says, a smile in his blue eyes. “But it’s better with you.”
PROMPT: SIREN YURI IS A BIRD, AND BIRDS LAY EGGS. GO.
“Does he lay eggs?”
Victor’s boot snagged on the wooden deck. Stumbling, he whipped around to look at the powder monkey that addressed him. Young, short, blond and fiesty. Picked off a ship of the British navy. Had the makings of a good master gunner, despite the semi-permanent scowl on his face.
“Lay eggs. He’s a bird. Birds lay eggs.”
“Does he look like a bird?” Victor laughed good-naturedly.
“That’s because he isn’t a bird. He does not lay eggs. Understood?”
“If you say so.” The boy looked unconvinced. “He isn’t human either, captain.”
Suddenly, Victor was not so sure himself.
“Chris, do sirens lay eggs?”
The ship’s cook arched an eyebrow. “Are we expecting baby birds? Because that will make for extra mouths to feed, I’ll need to recalculate the rations.”
Victor’s eyes went wide.
“I’m joking. You have nothing to worry about, the males don’t…” Chris paused in consideration. “…As far as I know.”
Victor sat, straight-backed, on the edge of the bed. Behind him, Yuuri forwent a comb, threading his fingers through long silver strands. He dipped down, brushing his lips over Victor’s shoulders as he braided loosely so as not to let them tangle over the course of the night. Every evening, Yuuri waited excitedly to play with and care for Victor’s hair and he was never denied.
“Yuuri, I have a question for you. It’s a little strange, is that fine?”
The answer was another kiss pressed between his shoulder blades as Yuuri continued to fondly braid.
“Do you lay eggs?”
Yuuri’s fingers stilled and after a moment, Victor felt him tremble. He glanced back, seeing Yuuri’s shoulders shake as he laughed silently, his dark eyes sparkling in amused delight.
“Excuse me, you’re the first siren I’ve met. There’s still a lot I don’t know! I’ve heard that sirens sink every ship they meet, yet we’re still sailing.”
Yuuri tugged playfully on Victor’s half-finished braid and gestured for him to turn back, so that he could finish the task at hand. Victor swore that Yuuri was a little rougher and needier than usual that night in their bed.
“You’ll owe me.”
Yuuri tilted his head to the side in inquisition.
“I want a cat for the ship. It’ll keep mice out of the ship’s food stores. Victor keeps promising and forgetting. Make him get me one the next time we dock.”
With a smile and a nod, Yuuri held out his hands. Chris gave him three eggs.
In the morning, Victor awoke and pressed a kiss to a sleeping Yuuri’s forehead. The siren was nestled against him, hands bunched into fists against Victor’s chest. Behind him was dark. It took a moment to process that it was because Yuuri’s wings were out. They were folded against his back, black feather tips reaching down to his ankles. Victor had never seen Yuuri sleep with his wings on display before.
Victor rolled and heard the crack before he felt it. Shells, shattered. In horror, he looked down. From beneath his hip, thick yellow liquid leaked out onto the bedsheets. Victor lifted up and saw the eggs, smashed under his careless weight.
Leaping up, the choked noise he made wasn’t human. He tried to scoop shards of shell and yolk into his hands, dismayed to see it had already begun to seep into the mattress.
Yuuri stirred, lashes fluttering. His dark eyes took in Victor’s panicked expression and he glanced down.
“Yuuri, it’s okay, I can fix it! I didn’t see them, I didn’t realize. Oh, of course, this is like your nest, isn’t it. I didn’t know, I’m so sorry!” Victor cried, desperate. “They-… they weren’t fertilized, Yuuri! We can make more! Just tell me what to do, if you need me to keep them warm or sit on them, gently I mean, I can do it. Whatever you need!”
Yuuri laughed so hard he fell off the bed. A couple feathers poofed up into the air.
Victor did not get the joke, yolk dripping from between his fingers.
Victor sulked at the helm of the ship. A white persian slinked by, wrapping its comically fluffy tail around his leg as it went.
Happy motivational monday! We have a MatPat quote for today! Im gonna add Stephanie to the bunch next week ;)
If you guys want to submit to me some good tweets or send me a quote from a video, I love getting genuine real quotes for these. They care about you. I care about you. so please, forgive yourself every now and then and be confident in yourself. you are good.
The Beauceron is a guard dog and herding dog breed falling into the working dog category whose origins lie in the plains of Northern France. The Beauceron is also known as Berger de Beauce (sheepdog from Beauce) or Bas Rouge (red-stockings).
So, Kinda sad, but, While I was working my friends booth at Supercon, a really sweet excited boy saw that I liked JSE and payed me for a sketch commission of @therealjacksepticeye saying “all the way” and said that the purple soul from undertale was his favorite so he really really wanted me to include a purple soul heart. He unfortunately never came back to pick up his commission. I don’t even know if he has a tumblr but I sincerely hope he sees this somehow. I was too excited to see his reaction and was sad to see that he never came back.
Heres to you kid. You honestly made my entire weekend. This community has to stick together.
“i love your stories. i have become addicted and i was wondering if you could write a batmom story of were selina kyle doesn’t know bruce is married and she comes to the manor in a very sexy outfit and batmom and the boys walk in on that and it very awkard. thanks :)” requested by @cheesecake-chic
Well, first, thank you, and then : here it is. I know a lot of you tell me I shouldn’t think my writing is shit, but with this one, I’m really…unsure. Meh, it’s all over the place. Anyway. Hope you’ll still like it :
Today, Bruce woke up with the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Usually, his guts were always right and he spent the entire morning on edge…
But as the hours went by, and he saw that everyone was safe, he relaxed a bit. When your lips kissed his cheek lovingly as you came down in the kitchen for breakfast, he let go a little bit. When his sons didn’t even fight once, he let go a little bit. When Alfred made the best pancakes ever, he let go a little bit. When his hands wrapped around your waist to bring you closer, and his lips kissed your neck, while his sons made loud “ewwww” noises, he let go even more…And by noon, he was his normal self again. Still slightly worried about everything, a bit broody and all (though your presence made him smile like an idiot), but not waiting for a catastrophe anymore.
And oh how wrong he was to let his guard down.
It was 10 pm when all Hell broke loose (ok, he was over-exagerating).
It was 10 pm when Selina Kyle knocked on the Manor door, wearing a dress that was revealing a lot of skin.
It was 10 pm when Selina Kyle invited herself in the Wayne family house, and after a sexy “Long time no see Bat” and her sultriest look, kissed Bruce without any warning as he was coming to the entrance hall to see who rung the door, curious of who came to visit at such an hour.
It was 10 pm when you came in as well, with all of your kids, wondering too who was ringing so late in the evening.
Reflexively, as you all witnessed your Bruce pushing Catwoman away (oh the bitch stuck her tongue in his mouth !), your two oldest sons, Dick and Jason, held your shoulders…Just in case you decided to jump on Selina you know, and like, kill her or something. It was notoriously known that when you were jealous, you were dangerous. Granted, you weren’t often jealous, as Bruce only had eyes for you, and mostly ignored women who were hitting on him unsubtly (though none of them would ever dare doing it in front of you, and if they did, your natural sarcasm and wits would humiliate them right on the spot).
Bruce’s eyes were going between you and Selina, and the worry he felt earlier in the day came surging back. He knew how well you and Selina fought, if you decided to attack, it would be a disaster…
But it didn’t seem like you were reacting. At all. Your sons were holding you by your shoulders, waiting to use all their strength to hold you if need be. Damian and Tim’s stance also showed they were ready to intervene.
But you weren’t really reacting. You were just looking at Selina blankly, as if the things you just saw were trying to register themselves in your head.
(A/N): I literally have no excuse for this other than I love mermaid Bucky so
Summary: (Y/N) happens to come across a rather friendly mermaid
The sun was just barely rising, the beach was quiet, no birds about squawking, no children running around carrying greasy hot dogs, no music of beach goers, just you, the sunset, and the ocean. With a pleasant sigh you settled down onto one of the docks surrounding the ocean.
You pick up a pencil and begin to gently sketch the purple and pink hues of the sky, your pencil gingerly shading along the half orb you had drawn for the sun. You bite your lip in concentration, looking from your paper up to the sky and back down to your paper again. Every so often you’d switch colors, truly wanting to capture the beauty of the sun and sky-
A gentle slap of the ocean is what grabs your attention. Sure, waves had been rolling in all day, sloping against the wooden posts if the docks, or against boats or sea cliffs but this one sounded different- sharper perhaps? It was much more clear and concise, more like a smack than anything else. The kind of sounds you got when a fish was squirming to get back in the water. You perk your head up and look around but alas there was nothing to see other than the vast expanse of salty water. That’s when you hear it again- that distinct smacking sound only now it was louder, and perhaps a bit faster than the last smack. It sounded panicked or frenzied if you thought about it.
You rise from your spot on the dock, looking around the docks and seashore to see where if perhaps there was any animal who had gotten stuck in some
Plastic or perhaps just needed some help getting back to sea. Your eyes search along the shore, between the boats, even against the cliffs before circling back around. Your eyes don’t particularly catch on anything but your ears certainly do, the smacking sound comes again and again and again, each slap more panicked than the last and it was loud, much too loud to be far away and that’s when you realized the boats closest to you were so large that you couldn’t see behind them or over them and perhaps whatever creature was stuck was hidden behind one of those.
You run to the base of the dock and to where the boats attach to the wooden planks and your eyes begin to search, scanning up and down the rows until you spotted something. And that’s when you see it, a gleam of silver in the purple sun, the scales of some fish as it struggles in a fallen net. Shit, you think to yourself as you run towards that particular dock, already dropping to your knees to help wrangle the poor creature free but what you see is most definitely not what you were expecting. Rather than some fish staring back at you with beady eyes you were faced with a man with rather large, beautiful shining blue orbs.
You stare at the mans face for what feels like forever before you snap out if your reverie, blinking lazily to clear your thoughts.
“Oh my god,” you whisper as you suddenly come to terms with the fact that a man had gotten himself tangled in this net. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” The man doesn’t respond, he simply stares back at you with these giant almost pleading puppy dog- esque eyes. "What happened? How did you fall in?“ You try some more questions but yet again the man doesn’t answer. He doesn’t respond with any words but some strange vibrations rattles the air and it takes you a minute to realize that this man is the one making the noise, a sad, almost depressed little whimper in his throat. "Okay,” you whisper as you lift up chunks of the net attempting to figure out how he was tangled. “Lets get you out of this,” You lift up the net as you pull it towards you but it gets caught on something, something almost triangular but almost soft when you tugged hard enough.
The man whimpers, reaching up
Through the net to grab at your hands, silently begging you to stop. You comply, immediately stopping the pulling. But rather than focusing on getting the poor
Man free your eyes are suddenly glued to something else, his hands. They would have looked like any other ordinary pair of hands if it weren’t for the fact that they were webbed and smooth, giving them a glossy like appearance. His nails came to sharp little points, like tiny little daggers attached to his flesh. You stare at his hands, half tempted to even touch them but suddenly the man starts up with his cries again, that low, depressed throaty noise that had your heart aching.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you whisper, attempting to get back to work. You twist and pull at the net at all sorts of different angles, trying to free the man but each attempt only brought you more whimpers and more squirming.
“Shit,” You whisper as you stop struggling against the net, slumping down onto the dock in defeat. The man looks at you with concerned eyes, his sad noises starting back up again. “I- I don’t know how to help,” You mutter weakly, your tone nearly exhausted at this point. The man whimpers some more, his clawed hands reaching to attempt to tear the net away from his body. “Wait- stop,” You sigh as you reach down to grab his hands, trying to stop him from causing any more damage. “You’re gonna cut yourself-” The man becomes more panicked in his movements as you grip his wrist only now he was attempting to yank his grip from your yours rather than the nets. “I’m not gonna hurt you!” You attempt to calm him but it was no use, he was struggling and he was struggling hard. With one hard tug your knees slip on the dock, pulling you close to the waters edge. In fact, you’re just about to let go when the man gives one final tug, pulling you into the water with him.
Immediately water fills your lungs and you’re damn sure you scrape your feet along something sharp because the pain shooting into your legs most definitely isn’t normal. You bob back up to the surface, gasping for water as you hack up whatever you had swallowed all the while trying to wipe the water from your eyes. You cough a little as some water bubbles into your throat and out of your mouth, spraying back into the salty abyss. The man goes rigid, staring at you in pure fear and shock, his blue eyes widening in surprise.
“What the hell?” You deadpan, glaring at him with an angry gaze. “You could have killed me!” The man recoils just a tiny bit, those small whimpers bubbling in his throat again. You sigh as you paddle the water about you gently, keeping you afloat long enough to converse with this mysterious man. “I’m sorry- I get you’re probably stressed being caught in here but I’m just trying to help,” You give him what you hope looks like a sympathetic smile. “Can I try to help with the net?” You ask, gesturing to the offending material. The man looks at you and back to the net and back to you again, biting his lip in thought.
You can’t help but notice the way his teeth came to a perfect little point, just like his nails, like tiny daggers buried into his body. Sharp nails, sharp teeth, he wasn’t speaking to you, what the hell was wrong with this guy? But before your anger could bubble again the man nods, squirming just a bit within the water. You give him a grateful little smile as you paddle towards him, stopping just shy of his torso. The closer you got the more you realized just how beautiful this man was, with baby blues and stunningly dark hair, not to mention a strikingly strong jaw line and amazing cheek bones. Even with his strange hands and teeth you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit attracted to him.
“You’re not gonna try to drown me are ya?” You ask only half jokingly, the other half completely meaning the question. The man looks at you with those damn puppy eyes, shaking his head softly. He almost looked offended by the question if you thought about it but you didn’t have time to gawk at his face, you had to help free him from the net. With a determined albeit hesitant smile you reach out to gingerly work the net away from his chest, trying so desperately not to brush your fingers over his milky skin.
You gulp as you reach up, slowly but surely freeing his head from the net. It’s then, with your fingers grazing along his neck that you notice something, three small cuts along either side of his neck, pulsating as you moved your fingers along. You can’t help but stare at them, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, your eyes glued to the pink flesh of each cut. If you truly thought about it they actually looked like gills of some sort, just like the ones of fishes your father had brought home all those years ago. The man squirms, making some noise in the back of his throat under your intense gaze. You snap out of your trance again, electing to ignore the strange cuts until you freed the man from the net.
“Almost done,” You whisper as you let the top part of the net fall in front of him, all you had to do now was free his legs and- The man reaches down with his own hands- webbed might you add- and rips the remaining net to shreds, nearly ripping it from his legs like some animal. There’s another smack of water and suddenly the man disappears, completely gone after the water calms. You look around, twisting your body to get a good look around but alas you found nothing, not even a trace of the net he’d been confined in. Sure, you thought this was rather strange but you dismissed it as the chill of the freezing water began to set in. You give one last look to the ocean before climbing back onto the dock, shivering within your skin as you meander back to your art supplies.
Your clothes had been soiled by the water and you were freezing, the sun was far too high in the sky to sketch now and thus your morning had been slightly ruined. With an unhappy little sigh you bend down and pick up your supplies and shoes before making your way back towards land, shuffling as water pooled from your shorts.
You wince as pain spreads throughout your feet and something wet slops below you. You look down, grimacing when you noticed the thick red liquid oozing from the bottom of your feet. Guess you really had cut yourself on something. You mentally curse yourself as you limp towards land, most definitely not looking forward to going home and having to clean your wounds up. Grumbling angrily to yourself you waddle onto the sand, nearly yelling in pain as the sand seeps into your blood. God, is this what you got for saving someone’s life? Next time, you begged the universe to remind you to never help someone out again. You stomp as best as you could to your car, an angry cloud of hate brewing over your head. In fact you were in such a bad mood that you failed to realize a certain man staring at you from a few miles in the sea.
The next day you tried the shore again, this time picking a different dock to sit on and sketch from. This time you picked on closer to shore, just to be on the safer side and once you had gotten comfy you began to sketch, hoping to complete your picture today but when you had only been drawing for five minutes you were suddenly interrupted. That telltale smacking sound resounded around you and all of a sudden an almost familiar head of black hair bobs above the water, only the man’s eyes and nose visible.
“Have you come to drag me into the water again?” You ask, a hint of smugness to your tone as you look back down to your drawing, completely dismissing the man. The man shakes his head, a look of remorse crossing his only visible features. “Are you ever going to talk to me?” You ask, suddenly setting down you art to look at him. “I saved you, you nearly killed me, and I don’t even know your name,” The man looks up to you then to your pencil and sketch pad. You follow his gaze, your own landing upon the pencil and paper. “Do you want to write it down?” You ask, the man nods and suddenly he bobs from the water, resting his elbows upon the dock as you hand him a piece of paper and the pencil. He quickly jots down a few words before handing the paper back to you.
James Buchanan Barnes
You smile at his choppy hand writing, it was cute if you really looked at it. “James?” You question, looking at his name again. The man reaches for the pencil and the paper, quickly jotting down a few more words before handing them back to you.
I like Bucky better
You smile even more, nodding. “Bucky it is then. So uh Bucky-” You test the name on your tongue, allowing the taste of it to settle in. You liked it. “Any reason you’re using up all my paper?” You joke but the look of regret that crosses Bucky’s features has your chuckling coming to a stop. “I’m sorry, I uh- I didn’t mean to offend you or…” You trail off as Bucky grabs the pencil and paper again, proceeding to write out another message.
I’m sorry, I can stop using your paper if you’d like me to
“No, no!” You quickly say, “I was just giving you shit, I really don’t mind,” Bucky looks at you for a moment before looking back at the pencil in his hand.
You really don’t?
“I promise,” You smile at him, hoping the small gesture reassured him. Bucky smiles, a small quirk of his lip is all, but it was a start. “So…you really like the water huh?” You ask, chuckling awkwardly at your own question. Bucky apparently doesn’t seem to notice as he nods, looking down to the water almost fondly. “Even after the whole…” You wave your hand, coughing a bit as you allude to the incident the previous morning. “The whole net thing?” Bucky’s brow creases as he reaches for the paper, quickly jotting something down before handing it back to you.
I’m sorry I dragged you in, I was just scared is all
You smile once more, his words alighting something within your heart. “It’s okay, nothing I couldn’t handle,” Bucky nods, his eyes wandering about the scenery almost lazily when suddenly his eyes land on your bandaged feet. You’d gotten home, cleaned the deep cuts out and went in to get stitches and now here you were again, sitting in the same place that gave you the cuts. Bucky pouts as he reaches out with a webbed finger, gingerly running his nail along the white bandage.
“Be careful,” You warn softly, not wishing to startle him. “It’s uh- it’s pretty sore,” Bucky pouts as he reaches out for the paper and pencil again, quickly jotting something down before shoving it towards you.
You bite your lip, contemplating whether or not you should tell him what exactly you had done. “Um, I just cut them up a bit, it was a complete accident,” You add, hoping he didn’t suspect you had cut your feet when you fell in. Bucky nods, reaching out again to run his clawed fingers along the bandage.
“Buck?” You ask hesitantly, biting your lip as you stare at his hands, his very strange, not at all human like hands. The man hums, a low purring like sound issuing from the back of his throat. “Can I uh- Can I ask a question?” Bucky nods as he pulls away a bit, resting his folded arm on the dock to keep part of his body up out of the water. "What’s with the hands?“ You gesture to his, specifically to the webbing. Bucky looks at his hands, a sudden blush rising to his pale skin. He quickly hides his hands under his arms, hiding his face in the flesh part of his elbow.
"I’m sorry,” to attempt to backtrack, already feeling horrible. “I didn’t mean to make you feel embarrassed, they’re just different from mine, see?” You hold a hand up, showcasing your short, trimmed nails and most definitely not webbed fingers. Bucky poked his head up a bit, looking at you with uncertain eyes. His piercing gaze then falls to your hand, the blue orbs scrutinizing each finger as he stares. He cocks his head to the side as he studies it, almost with a childlike curiosity.
He gently shifts his arms, hesitantly pulling his hand out from hiding an slowly but surely raising it to yours. It even felt different, it was slimy, practically clammy against your own but it wasn’t unpleasant. He studies the two hands together, pushing his fingers against yours only to pull them back again, he looks at his webbing and then yours, studying his webbed hands almost distastefully. He then moves onto the nails, studying your small stubby ones and then his long, jagged ones. He hums softly, cocking his head to the other side as he places his fingers between yours, watching the way they only went so far due to his webbing. He was studying you like he’d never seen another human being before and at this point you were starting to think he hadn’t…
Fandom: Star Trek AOS (Soulmate AU) Pairing: Reader x Bones Word Count: 1,873 Prompt: A prompt from @bkwrm523 a while back: “
So, academy era. Soulmate Au where you can hear each other’s thoughts. You and Leonard kinda chat sometimes, but haven’t met yet. Leonard’s figured out that you’re both at the academy. In the middle of one of his classes, he realizes from your thoughts that you were just in some sorta shuttle accident and badly hurt. He leaves class immediately, gets you to tell him WHERE you are so he can call help. Then, while rushing over, he coaches you through patching yourself up while waiting for help to arrive, all through thoughts.” Warnings: Nothing much for this chapter, just scary scenes and a bit of blood Tag list:@outside-the-government@feelmyroarrrr Others who have asked to be tagged for this fic/expressed interest: @bkwrm523@yourtropegirl@littlecarowrites@auduna-druitt@mccoymostly@nymphadora-blurryface Author’s note: This was turning into a really long one shot so I’ve decided to break it up into three (potentially four) parts. I hope you like it!
It happened on
your first day at the Academy. As though
the enormity of starting your new life as a cadet wasn’t exciting enough, it
was also the day you’d first sensed the thoughts of your soulmate. You’d heard the stories of the few in your
hometown who were fortunate enough to have been born within telepathic range of
their soulmates, but you’d never expected that you’d be one of the lucky ones. You’d dreamed of all the things that
Starfleet Academy would bring you as you traveled south from your home, but
you’d never imagined or really, even considered, that there was a chance of
finding your soulmate.
Can we just take a moment to realize that Jon and Dany will be on a boat together for 30 to 45 days, all the while there is not much to do while sailing as shown in the books while Tyrion is traveling so he has to play board games. Aside from all the great boatsex they'll have. Imagine all the conversations they'll have of their past, of what they've gone through, their fears, their desires, what they wanted in life. By the time they reach land they'll know and love each other extremely well.
So let me just:
Tyrion teaching Jon how to play board games (he already taught Dany on the sail from Meereen to Dragonstone). At first Jon is really bad at it and Dany loves watching him play-but then she starts tutoring him on the nights when they’re not having great boatsex until he can *almost* give Tyrion a run for his money
Dany and Jon trying to keep the boatsex a secret but it’s not a secret to anyone at all since the ship isn’t that big
they have a conversation one night where they tell each other the stories of how they got all their scars-Jon talks about his resurrection
all kinds of hidden kisses and stolen moments (there’s this one closet they keep coming back to)
but every so often one of them will have nightmares and the other one comforts them and they just lay there until they finally drift off to sleep again lulled by the ship’s rocking
Dany and Davos bonding and Jon asking Davos for advice on girls
reading in the same lounge on calm days and giving each other occasional book recs
Dany having lots of questions about the North and Jon answering them the best he can
having long silences because they’re just used to each other and they don’t always feel the need to talk, especially standing on the top deck of the boat watching the dragons
I don’t know how this would work out practically but I just need Jon and Dany swimming/skinny dipping off the side of the boat one night
basically they just dock in White Harbor with all of these stories together-some of them people know about but there are some conversations that they just had together in the privacy of their room
their kids grow up hearing all about the infamous Boat Trip North and how it changed both of their parents forever
Honestly, the boat trip needs its own season (or spinoff series lol)
Hello!!! Can I request an imagine where the reader finds out her parents are getting a divorce and she hides it from everyone? She’s on Uma’s crew and is dating Harry. One day she decides to try and tell him about it but he was upset about something after he snaps at the reader, the reader goes and talks to Uma about everything that’s happening with her parents. The reader has bad anxiety and she tells Uma that she doesn’t see the point on living anymore. After she tells her that, the reader walks off and Uma is mad at Harry for not listening. Uma confronts Harry about it and she tells him what the reader is going through and just said. Worried that the reader is going to try and self harm, they look for her. They find the reader in time and Harry apologizes for what happened earlier and the reader then tells him more of what’s going on and he comforts her. My summer has been a one hellish summer. If you could write this for me, it will make my summer a bit better. Thank you!!
Disclaimer - I do not own any of Descendants’ characters and/or ideas all credit goes to the creator and producers of Disney Descendants
Pairing - Harry Hook x Reader
Summary – A huge misunderstanding almost leads to a bigger problem.
Warning(s) - Self-harm, Talking badly about oneself, yelling, abuse, swearing
“An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle. But it will never break.” – Ancient Chinese Proverb
Rick’s the only one who can see them.
Those shiny, glowing crimson cords that wrapped themselves around the pinky, frail-looking and resembling the silky threads of a spider web. They were a bright blood red in color, stark obvious against skin, as if it was screaming for its presence to be acknowledged. They tangled and twisted and knotted in impossible shapes, yet they stretched fluidly to keep the fated people connected.
So delicate, so beautiful were these strings, that one would almost expect them to break at the slightest feathery touch. And so varied they were, that Rick thought at times that they were actually representations of the diversity of humans.
Apparently, Friday is the day of the green iguana here. He’s back … on the dock, happily sunning himself, apparently after swimming in for his weekly visit. :( He only seems to come (or I only see him) on Fridays. I guess that’s better than being here all the time! And he runs when approached, so there’s no catching it, even if I were so inclined.