Tw Restraints - Tumblr Posts
"I like digging holes and hiding things inside them.
When I grow old, I hope I won't forget to find them
'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night.
I build a home and wait for someone to tear it down,
Then pack it up in boxes, head for the next town running
'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night.
And a thousand times I've seen this road...
A thousand times..."
~
-No Roots, Alice Merton
Whumptober No. 6
She would love to ask for help when she can't help herself... But everybody knows pride is a spiteful notion.
(Click for better quality)
(Edit - PAST ME FORGOT TO ADD THE TAGS BEFORE QUEUING I AM SO SORRY PLEASE SAY THIS SHOWS UP IN THE TAGS-)
"My crown is on my brow, my naked blade within my hand.
My army like an eager hound lies waiting my command.
With how you tortured, killed and lied revealed to them this day---
By all the stars that ever shone,
By all the gods, known and unknown,
For Herald Kris and my Queen's Own---
I swear that you will pay!"
~
-Battle Dawn, Debra F. Sanders and Mercedes Lackey
Short Prompt #619
CW: captivity, restraints, threats of torture.
"You're pretty interesting, you know?" - the villain mused, circling the restrained hero, who was strapped down in a chair. "No one has ever seen your face or heard you speak before."
Villain suddenly stopped in front of their nemesis, slamming their hands on both their shoulders and leaning in close. "But I'll make you talk sooner or later."
Hero only smiled and cocked an eyebrow at them, wondering how long it would take Villain to realize that they were mute.
i need a good dose of Angst + H/C. “When a mission went wrong and both RK units were taken” There suppose to be one more art for this series but i felt kinda scared to post it (heck, i even scared to post all these) so just 3 will do~
whump stuffs: gift edition
Sept sat alone in their room, missing their best friend. They stared at the photo on their phone, the last photo they had before their world fell apart three months ago. Standing in front of a really cool boulder, their best friend, Kylie, standing next to them, a big grin on her face like she normally had.
"Sept?" Sept's mother whispered as she entered the room. "I have a gift for you,"
Sept stood up and followed their mother out of the room, not speaking.
Their mother took them down to the basement, the place that Sept was never allowed to go.
Their mother opened a locked door with a key, and on the other side, a thin figure sat in the corner, her wrists bound behind her, a gag in her mouth, and eyes covered with a tight strip of black fabric.
"Happy birthday, Sept."
The person looked in the direction of the voice and let out a muffled scream.
"Go talk to her," Sept's mother coaxed.
Sept glared at their mother, this was needlessly cruel, the poor girl.
Sept walked closer, and in the dim lighting, the person slowly increased in familiarity beyond the scars.
Sept pulled the gag out and pulled down the blindfold, then hugged Kylie.
Kylie wriggled out of their grip and whispered, "Please, Master, I swear, I did nothing wrong, your son didn't see me, I swear, I swear, I-"
She broke into a sob and Sept's mother grabbed her and shoved her into the wall and snapped, "Why did you let him take off your gag you little brat!"
"Stop!" Sept snapped. They shoved their mother away from Kylie and grabbed the oddly light form of their best friend and ran out of the basement, then shut the door behind them. They threw their weight against the door as they set down Kylie, and Kylie stared at them weakly, not acknowledging them.
Meeting
Whoo first chapter! meet my little beans as they meet each other.
Contains= Gun mention, usage of said gun, violence, attempted kidnapping, restraints, gag, swearing, minors using vapes
Tatiana
--- I felt a little empty. Like always.
Staring at the board, I waited for class to start, barely able to ignore the noise.
I heard the teacher yell for silence and stiffened, breathing in. My heart pounded in my chest and I had to resist the urge to run out of the room.
I gripped the edge of my desk, and my music blasted in my ear, and I practiced the breathing exercises my therapist taught me.
I somehow heard footsteps in my left ear and looked out the corner of my eye to see a ginger with blue streaks in her hair. She was tall, her shoulders broad, and she looked like a confused puppy. And I found her beautiful.
She wore sleek black headphones, a black leather jacket, and black leggings, and her gray bag had a keychain of a white, plastic balloon animal, as well as a blue wolf with wings. Her eyes were a strange mix of green, blue, and gray, with one much lighter than the other, and a few fiery golden flecks were visible.
I wished I were prettier in that moment, so I’d even stand a chance with her. I had blue beads braided into my hair, but that was only temporary. My olive skin was patchy and had darker discoloration, I was short, and my face had a beauty mark on my left cheek.
She looked at the teacher, who finally noticed her and told her to sit down next to me. I felt my skin burn and let her.
“Alright, class. First product of the quarter, we’ll be doing partner work. Pair up with your seat partners, and if you have any grievances, talk to me,”
She looked at me and whispered, “So, we’re doing this together?”
I nodded, and Mr. Simmons explained the instructions. We’d be researching what an assigned country did during World War one throughout the whole quarter, and I pulled out my mom’s old work computer when we were assigned Brazil. The other girl pulled out a nearly shattered HP computer, and Mr. Simmons took attendance.
Her name was Chamomile, and corrected him in a whispery, yet strong voice, “I prefer Cami,”
“Apologies, Cami. Also, please take off your headphones,”
Just as he had when he told me to take out my earbuds.
Cami pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her bag and said, “It’s in my accommodations list,”
She handed him the paper, then took it back when he read what he needed to.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “However, I’m sure you don’t need it,”
He took her headphones, as he had with my earbuds, and set them on his desk next to my things.
“You can collect them at the end of class,”
She tensed, and when people started working and we’d been assigned Brazil, she covered her ears and didn’t talk for the rest of class, only writing what she wanted to say down on a whiteboard she pulled out of her bag.
“Hey, are you alright?” I asked multiple times. Each time, Cami shrugged and wrote, ‘Could be worse.’
Eventually, the bell rang and she went and got her headphones as I got my ear buds, and she left.
I walked to my next class, where I saw my friend Ashley. I hugged her, and her feline pupils dilated to saucers. It’d been a week since we last saw each other, as she’d gotten covid, and while her voice still sounded scratchy, she wasn’t sick anymore.
As a kenomi, the last remaining kind of shifter, other than the dragon-folk, who refused most contact with society in favor of the non-shifting dragons, she was a tiny bit cat. She had cat ears, a tail, the amber eyes of a cat, while most didn’t have cat eyes, and all of them, but those afflicted by an illness that shifters could get, could shift at will. Those with the illness would randomly shift, and on full moons, they’d be too dangerous to be around. Most died after their first shift.
Ashley, thankfully, wasn’t one of them.
We walked into our class and the teacher told us we could sit where we wanted. We sat next to each other, and a girl with light brown hair and blue eyes that came in almost late, sat on my right.
We had a getting to know you activity for class, in which our teacher asked for us to answer questions on a survey, then write a short paragraph on our summers.
When the bell rang an hour and a half later, Ashley and I went to chemistry next, and Luna came by and hugged us both. Many people called her Moon, including us, not because of her name, but because her blond hair looked like the moon.
She was coming from AP biology and going to math class, as it turned out, meaning we had the same lunch, last lunch.
Ashley and I were not table partners, I had someone I knew from the psych ward, and their name was Bramble. Bramble was another kenomi, they had light brown ears and a light brown tail with a white tip, as compared to Ashley’s charcoal gray ears and black tail.
They hugged me and said, “Long time, no see!”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“No, I’ve been out for the past- well, since you last left, actually,”
Three months.
“That is a shockingly long time for your parents,”
“Yeah- they tried, but I kinda ran away for two days, and they took the hint,”
Their voice broke into a song-like tone as they spoke those words, until they got to, ‘They took the hint’. There, it changed to a normal tone.
We’d exchanged numbers at one point, but we didn’t really use them considering Bramble’s parents put them back in the psych ward every few weeks when Bramble did anything vaguely ‘depressed’. Normally complaints about life in general. Bramble may have been actually depressed, but their treatments were working on them. Not like my treatment.
We weren’t doing much, the teacher just wanted to see what we already knew and getting to know us.
When the bell dismissed us for lunch, I introduced Bramble and Ashley, and they started talking to each other and exchanged information pretty early on.
They twined tails and we set our things at an empty table that seated eight, then saw Moon and waved her over.
Moon left her other friends and sat down next to me.
I saw Cami, and she sat at our table, the only empty spots. She didn’t interact with us, just stayed silent.
Moon tried to interact by saying, “Do you want to tell us your name or…?”
Cami looked up and mumbled, “Um- no- sorry,”
“So, what are your interests?”
“Medieval history,”
“Anything else?”
“Um- wars. Especially the goofy ones. The lobster war, Emu war, Soccer war, things like that,”
“Never heard of any of those,”
She immediately went into a tangent on the Lobster War, “fought” between Brazil and France.
I added that much of my dead family was actually living in Brazil at the time of the war and we still had one of their lobster costumes.
Cami looked like she’d just had the best pie in the world as her first pie.
“Can I see it?” she asked.
I texted my mom for a picture of the costume, and said, “By the way, my family couldn’t really afford to do the schools for dance, so it's very…” I paused, searching for the right word, “...strange,”
It was dulled, moth eaten red fabric with a rusted, ruined wire frame to keep it up. Strange was an understatement, but it was all they could afford. I was glad my family was better off now.
My mom sent me the photo and I showed it to her, and even though it was essentially over glorified garbage, she looked even more ecstatic than before, practically jumping up and down in her seat.
She then showed me a picture of a helmet and said, “This is a brodie helmet, I found it buried in a trench when my mom took me to visit her hometown in France,”
“You stole the lobsters?” I jokingly said.
“What- no my mom isn’t a fisher- she was nob- she’s a doctor,”
“It’s just a joke, sorry I confused you,”
Her eyes brightened and she looked a bit nervous as she stuttered out, “Oh- um, okay,”
“From now on, you can ask me if I’m making a joke, okay?”
She nodded and said, “Thank you. I just realized- I don’t know your name,”
“Maria Tatiana, everyone calls me either Tatiana or Tati,”
“Oh, cool,”
Cami took out a book called A History of France and started reading.
The bell rang and Cami stood, as did I.
We went to the same class, me, Cami, and Moon. The door was locked, and there wasn’t a teacher, so we waited, and Cami and I somehow veered the conversation to the dynamics of a steam engine, then to crocheting in about two minutes.
The teacher arrived and opened the door, and directed us to our seats. He prefaced that he’d heard about Moon and I’s friendship and had us separated, then told us to take our earbuds and headphones out. He was much more understanding to Cami and I than Mr. Simmons when we told him we had the accommodations and let us keep them with the preface any music played had to be low.
I sat in my chair, and Cami was sat next to me, and other students slowly trickled in. I recognized a few, one of Moon’s friends, a girl named Marina, and her twin brother with the scars on his face I could never remember the name of. He sat next to us, and Cami stiffened and made an almost dog-like whine.
He sneered at her and snapped, “Not so wolf-hearted now, are you?”
“Leave me alone,” she squeaked. “It’s been five years, please,”
“Well, wolf-heart,” he said. He leaned in close and whispered something, and she abruptly stood and walked over to the teacher, tears glistening in her eyes, before a light blue paper was handed to her and she left.
“What did you say to her?” I accused. He didn’t answer.
The teacher moved him to a solo desk next to him and started talking, introducing himself, then having the small class of about fifteen people say their names and one fun fact.
Mine was that I was bilingual, while everyone else’s was something goofy like the time that one kid broke his arm when he was two.
Then came Marina’s twin, Hunter, and his fact was that he was attacked by a wolf five years ago, giving him the scars on his face.
Cami re-entered eventually, and said, “Guidance wants to talk to you, Hunter,” before sitting down next to me.
“Okay, so, would you like to stand up and introduce yourself?”
Cami shook her head with her eyes wide.
“At least your name?”
“Chamomile, but most people call me Cami,”
“Thank you, Cami,”
She breathed out a sigh of relief, and her shoulders relaxed.
When class was over, Hunter still hadn’t returned, so we left and I didn’t think much on their interaction.
Cami
----
I left the audition, left the school, and got in my cousin’s car. She’d lied to me my whole life about her name, at least until about three years ago.
Lyorna’s girlfriend was in the car with her, meaning I had to call her by her given name, and Lyorna immediately started teasing me.
“So, how was your first day of school?” she said in a very joking tone. Some people I could read more than others. Lyorna was like a book at this point, Tatiana, though I liked her, was like a stone wall I had my eye pressed up to. I couldn’t yet tell if she wanted to be my friend or was just a sweet person.
Lizzie smiled at me, looked over at Lyorna and mouthed with a sleepy grin, “We finish later,”
“Finish what?” I asked. Lizzie’s lipstick was smeared, I realized. “Oh… never mind,”
“Good, unless you want all the smutty, smutty details,”
I turned up my music as Lyorna started talking.
Lizzie pulled out a vape, and used it. It was sticky sweet- too sweet.
I covered my nose and said nasally, “Please stop, it smells awful,”
“Oh. Sorry, Cami,”
She opened the windows and let the smoke air out as Lyorna started driving. I’d never understood why anyone liked vapes if they smelled like the embodiment of a sugar buzz, but that somehow worked for some people.
I looked out the window and eventually, Lyorna dropped me off, and I started up the long, windy gravel path to my house. My mother was an immortal being, and had bought this land roughly two hundred years ago when she’d moved out west. She had spent twenty years on the house and path. Twenty, long years. In those years, a friend of hers named Mary Magdalena Jones had died, and her husband at the time, a dragon-shifter named Balan, or Prayer, had been paralyzed waist-down by a tree collapsing on him in a storm. In the end, she had a house roughly five thousand square feet and eight bedrooms and she was pretty well off at the time for compensation of helping the union army with weapon supplies. The mansion had since been fixed up more and more until it resembled a big brick house, the only things that remained suggesting its ancientness being the cornerstone that said, ‘Est MDCCCXCVII,’ or for simpletons, 1897, and the inner walls being wooden slats.
Good ol home. I unlocked the door and set my bag inside, and my brother, Corey, ran up to me and gave me a tight hug.
He had no control over his shift, as he’d never been interested, and as such, he went to a private school that was all shifters. The same one I went to until I got expelled after I broke an asshole’s jaw after she called me the r-word and gave me a bloody nose. I still had to deal with her in my pack, and she still hated me.
I retreated to my room and stayed seated. Olivia texted me, and I went out to meet her.
She looked like what most people thought a dragon shifter looked like when in her hybrid form. Olive skin, big dark eyes, ears like an avali’s but scaly. She had white and gold scales in striped patterns, and serrated dragon-like claws at the end of her fingers if she wanted them out. Keyword ‘like’. Dragons’ claws typically weren’t serrated and therefore weren’t war crimes, they were more like a bayonet, triple edged. Just no gun underneath. But as we weren’t sure what she shifted into, she called herself a dragon shifter for simplicity's sake.
We walked along the path from my house to the hiking trail, and we walked along for a while. Eventually, Lyorna came by, and we talked and joked for a while, when Olivia squealed and said something amazing.
“Viper finally said I’m ready to be a healer!”
She was jumping up and down and her magic glow shooting everywhere.
“Funny, considering you still faint at the sight of blood,” I joked.
“We were twelve-!”
“I wasn’t,” Lyorna laughed, cutting her off.
Olivia stuck her tongue out at Lyorna and I heard a gunshot.
We instinctively hid under bushes, and in the earth; in Olivia’s case, and I felt someone grab me by the back of the neck and hold a gun to my throat.
I twisted before they could shoot, and flipped them over, then felt the bullet hit me in the foot. I shrieked, and Lyorna knocked out the other person, emerging from behind him and punching him in the back of the skull.
She lifted me and kissed my forehead, then called for Olivia.
Olivia emerged from the earth, the spaces between her scales caked with earth and grass. She shook her scales loose of dirt and put her glowing hand on my ankle and healed the foot over the course of an hour.
“Thank you,” I croaked.
I tried to stand and fell, and Lyorna giggled, “Oh, do you want mommy to come and kiss your little boo-boo-”
I stopped her and said, “Don’t finish that fucking sentence or I’ll take that gun down there and shoot,”
“Sorry,” she said, “Too far?”
“Too far,” I confirmed.
She carried me as a bundle in her red-mud wings for a while until I could stand again, and we walked for a while longer, when Lyorna’s ears twitched, and she pulled all of us off the path.
A blond girl I recognized as Tatiana’s friend jogged by, eyes filled with tears, an adult’s handprint on her cheek, and a small, half-filipino girl that looked about eight but talked like a ten year-old that followed after.
The little girl went ahead and Moon stopped, bending over and stretching.
The girl turned, and walked back to Moon, then Moon lifted her up, when came a gunshot, and Moon ducked to the floor, the little one almost completely hidden.
Someone walked by us, and I ducked further into the bush and closed my eyes.
“Where is Chamomile Malkom?” Hunter hissed.
“Hunter- What are you doing?” Moon whispered. I heard her backing away from the crunch on the gravel path.
“Luna, don’t play dumb. Where is she?”
“I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!” she screamed.
I heard rapid footsteps, and dared to open my eyes. From what I could see, Hunter had wrapped a pistol around Moon’s throat, and her face was turning red from lack of oxygen. The child was trying to pull Hunter away.
I decided to act at that moment.
I howled, and he let Moon go, who rubbed her throat and sank to her knees, tears falling even harder.
I crawled out in my wolf form and nudged her with my snout.
“Cami, what are you doing?” Olivia hissed in the dialect of the shifter tongue we spoke.
“Relax,” I said.
I nudged her again, and she took the hint and started running, when Hunter ran out of the bushes and laughed.
He shot me in the side, and I roared. Moon returned to me and I accidentally bit her. She collapsed, and Lyorna ran out of the bushes, grabbed her and the little girl, and flew upwards to get them to safety.
Hunter didn’t chase them.
“I’ve been waiting years for this,” he snarled.
I started laughing. “With your patience? You insist on using the scholar’s mate opening so the match is over quicker,”
He turned red and shoved his pistol into my mouth. With difficulty, as I was over a foot taller than him. And most people.
“Shut up,” he snarled.
I nodded.
He chained my wrists behind me, and I heard Olivia following us.
I didn’t really try to fight back, I have to admit. I was only playing a game with him.
He eventually settled for weakly punching me in the jaw, and I faked a blackout. He dragged me along for a bit, and I had to resist the urge to laugh at him.
---
Eventually, he stopped after dragging me down a flight of stairs and called, “I found a were-bitch!”
At that moment, I decided to open my eyes, and as the Critura of my pack, I was able to turn people into shifters if they made direct eye contact with me when I had my eyes glow gold.
One of them seized up, and they immediately blindfolded me and gagged me. I heard one of them approach me and kick me in the gut as I tried to spit out my gag.
I doubled over, and roared loud enough to make at least one person’s ears bleed.
Someone tilted my chin upward, probably to make me meet their eyes, and I spat in their face, then threw out one leg, swept the other person and pulled apart the silver cuffs with brute force.
I pulled off my blindfold and immediately ran away, ignoring the pain in my side.
Three chased after me. My history teacher, Hunter, and my guidance counselor. Mr. Simmons had a rifle that he periodically tried to shoot me with, Hunter had his pistol, and my guidance counselor had a dagger that she didn’t throw.
I eventually threw them off, and the adrenaline caught up with me.
I was aware when my cheek hit the ground and less so when Olivia and Lyorna lifted me.
Meeting
Whoo first chapter! meet my little beans as they meet each other.
Contains= Gun mention, usage of said gun, violence, attempted kidnapping, restraints, gag, swearing, minors using vapes
Tatiana
--- I felt a little empty. Like always.
Staring at the board, I waited for class to start, barely able to ignore the noise.
I heard the teacher yell for silence and stiffened, breathing in. My heart pounded in my chest and I had to resist the urge to run out of the room.
I gripped the edge of my desk, and my music blasted in my ear, and I practiced the breathing exercises my therapist taught me.
I somehow heard footsteps in my left ear and looked out the corner of my eye to see a ginger with blue streaks in her hair. She was tall, her shoulders broad, and she looked like a confused puppy. And I found her beautiful.
She wore sleek black headphones, a black leather jacket, and black leggings, and her gray bag had a keychain of a white, plastic balloon animal, as well as a blue wolf with wings. Her eyes were a strange mix of green, blue, and gray, with one much lighter than the other, and a few fiery golden flecks were visible.
I wished I were prettier in that moment, so I’d even stand a chance with her. I had blue beads braided into my hair, but that was only temporary. My olive skin was patchy and had darker discoloration, I was short, and my face had a beauty mark on my left cheek.
She looked at the teacher, who finally noticed her and told her to sit down next to me. I felt my skin burn and let her.
“Alright, class. First product of the quarter, we’ll be doing partner work. Pair up with your seat partners, and if you have any grievances, talk to me,”
She looked at me and whispered, “So, we’re doing this together?”
I nodded, and Mr. Simmons explained the instructions. We’d be researching what an assigned country did during World War one throughout the whole quarter, and I pulled out my mom’s old work computer when we were assigned Brazil. The other girl pulled out a nearly shattered HP computer, and Mr. Simmons took attendance.
Her name was Chamomile, and corrected him in a whispery, yet strong voice, “I prefer Cami,”
“Apologies, Cami. Also, please take off your headphones,”
Just as he had when he told me to take out my earbuds.
Cami pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her bag and said, “It’s in my accommodations list,”
She handed him the paper, then took it back when he read what he needed to.
“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “However, I’m sure you don’t need it,”
He took her headphones, as he had with my earbuds, and set them on his desk next to my things.
“You can collect them at the end of class,”
She tensed, and when people started working and we’d been assigned Brazil, she covered her ears and didn’t talk for the rest of class, only writing what she wanted to say down on a whiteboard she pulled out of her bag.
“Hey, are you alright?” I asked multiple times. Each time, Cami shrugged and wrote, ‘Could be worse.’
Eventually, the bell rang and she went and got her headphones as I got my ear buds, and she left.
I walked to my next class, where I saw my friend Ashley. I hugged her, and her feline pupils dilated to saucers. It’d been a week since we last saw each other, as she’d gotten covid, and while her voice still sounded scratchy, she wasn’t sick anymore.
As a kenomi, the last remaining kind of shifter, other than the dragon-folk, who refused most contact with society in favor of the non-shifting dragons, she was a tiny bit cat. She had cat ears, a tail, the amber eyes of a cat, while most didn’t have cat eyes, and all of them, but those afflicted by an illness that shifters could get, could shift at will. Those with the illness would randomly shift, and on full moons, they’d be too dangerous to be around. Most died after their first shift.
Ashley, thankfully, wasn’t one of them.
We walked into our class and the teacher told us we could sit where we wanted. We sat next to each other, and a girl with light brown hair and blue eyes that came in almost late, sat on my right.
We had a getting to know you activity for class, in which our teacher asked for us to answer questions on a survey, then write a short paragraph on our summers.
When the bell rang an hour and a half later, Ashley and I went to chemistry next, and Luna came by and hugged us both. Many people called her Moon, including us, not because of her name, but because her blond hair looked like the moon.
She was coming from AP biology and going to math class, as it turned out, meaning we had the same lunch, last lunch.
Ashley and I were not table partners, I had someone I knew from the psych ward, and their name was Bramble. Bramble was another kenomi, they had light brown ears and a light brown tail with a white tip, as compared to Ashley’s charcoal gray ears and black tail.
They hugged me and said, “Long time, no see!”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“No, I’ve been out for the past- well, since you last left, actually,”
Three months.
“That is a shockingly long time for your parents,”
“Yeah- they tried, but I kinda ran away for two days, and they took the hint,”
Their voice broke into a song-like tone as they spoke those words, until they got to, ‘They took the hint’. There, it changed to a normal tone.
We’d exchanged numbers at one point, but we didn’t really use them considering Bramble’s parents put them back in the psych ward every few weeks when Bramble did anything vaguely ‘depressed’. Normally complaints about life in general. Bramble may have been actually depressed, but their treatments were working on them. Not like my treatment.
We weren’t doing much, the teacher just wanted to see what we already knew and getting to know us.
When the bell dismissed us for lunch, I introduced Bramble and Ashley, and they started talking to each other and exchanged information pretty early on.
They twined tails and we set our things at an empty table that seated eight, then saw Moon and waved her over.
Moon left her other friends and sat down next to me.
I saw Cami, and she sat at our table, the only empty spots. She didn’t interact with us, just stayed silent.
Moon tried to interact by saying, “Do you want to tell us your name or…?”
Cami looked up and mumbled, “Um- no- sorry,”
“So, what are your interests?”
“Medieval history,”
“Anything else?”
“Um- wars. Especially the goofy ones. The lobster war, Emu war, Soccer war, things like that,”
“Never heard of any of those,”
She immediately went into a tangent on the Lobster War, “fought” between Brazil and France.
I added that much of my dead family was actually living in Brazil at the time of the war and we still had one of their lobster costumes.
Cami looked like she’d just had the best pie in the world as her first pie.
“Can I see it?” she asked.
I texted my mom for a picture of the costume, and said, “By the way, my family couldn’t really afford to do the schools for dance, so it's very…” I paused, searching for the right word, “...strange,”
It was dulled, moth eaten red fabric with a rusted, ruined wire frame to keep it up. Strange was an understatement, but it was all they could afford. I was glad my family was better off now.
My mom sent me the photo and I showed it to her, and even though it was essentially over glorified garbage, she looked even more ecstatic than before, practically jumping up and down in her seat.
She then showed me a picture of a helmet and said, “This is a brodie helmet, I found it buried in a trench when my mom took me to visit her hometown in France,”
“You stole the lobsters?” I jokingly said.
“What- no my mom isn’t a fisher- she was nob- she’s a doctor,”
“It’s just a joke, sorry I confused you,”
Her eyes brightened and she looked a bit nervous as she stuttered out, “Oh- um, okay,”
“From now on, you can ask me if I’m making a joke, okay?”
She nodded and said, “Thank you. I just realized- I don’t know your name,”
“Maria Tatiana, everyone calls me either Tatiana or Tati,”
“Oh, cool,”
Cami took out a book called A History of France and started reading.
The bell rang and Cami stood, as did I.
We went to the same class, me, Cami, and Moon. The door was locked, and there wasn’t a teacher, so we waited, and Cami and I somehow veered the conversation to the dynamics of a steam engine, then to crocheting in about two minutes.
The teacher arrived and opened the door, and directed us to our seats. He prefaced that he’d heard about Moon and I’s friendship and had us separated, then told us to take our earbuds and headphones out. He was much more understanding to Cami and I than Mr. Simmons when we told him we had the accommodations and let us keep them with the preface any music played had to be low.
I sat in my chair, and Cami was sat next to me, and other students slowly trickled in. I recognized a few, one of Moon’s friends, a girl named Marina, and her twin brother with the scars on his face I could never remember the name of. He sat next to us, and Cami stiffened and made an almost dog-like whine.
He sneered at her and snapped, “Not so wolf-hearted now, are you?”
“Leave me alone,” she squeaked. “It’s been five years, please,”
“Well, wolf-heart,” he said. He leaned in close and whispered something, and she abruptly stood and walked over to the teacher, tears glistening in her eyes, before a light blue paper was handed to her and she left.
“What did you say to her?” I accused. He didn’t answer.
The teacher moved him to a solo desk next to him and started talking, introducing himself, then having the small class of about fifteen people say their names and one fun fact.
Mine was that I was bilingual, while everyone else’s was something goofy like the time that one kid broke his arm when he was two.
Then came Marina’s twin, Hunter, and his fact was that he was attacked by a wolf five years ago, giving him the scars on his face.
Cami re-entered eventually, and said, “Guidance wants to talk to you, Hunter,” before sitting down next to me.
“Okay, so, would you like to stand up and introduce yourself?”
Cami shook her head with her eyes wide.
“At least your name?”
“Chamomile, but most people call me Cami,”
“Thank you, Cami,”
She breathed out a sigh of relief, and her shoulders relaxed.
When class was over, Hunter still hadn’t returned, so we left and I didn’t think much on their interaction.
Cami
----
I left the audition, left the school, and got in my cousin’s car. She’d lied to me my whole life about her name, at least until about three years ago.
Lyorna’s girlfriend was in the car with her, meaning I had to call her by her given name, and Lyorna immediately started teasing me.
“So, how was your first day of school?” she said in a very joking tone. Some people I could read more than others. Lyorna was like a book at this point, Tatiana, though I liked her, was like a stone wall I had my eye pressed up to. I couldn’t yet tell if she wanted to be my friend or was just a sweet person.
Lizzie smiled at me, looked over at Lyorna and mouthed with a sleepy grin, “We finish later,”
“Finish what?” I asked. Lizzie’s lipstick was smeared, I realized. “Oh… never mind,”
“Good, unless you want all the smutty, smutty details,”
I turned up my music as Lyorna started talking.
Lizzie pulled out a vape, and used it. It was sticky sweet- too sweet.
I covered my nose and said nasally, “Please stop, it smells awful,”
“Oh. Sorry, Cami,”
She opened the windows and let the smoke air out as Lyorna started driving. I’d never understood why anyone liked vapes if they smelled like the embodiment of a sugar buzz, but that somehow worked for some people.
I looked out the window and eventually, Lyorna dropped me off, and I started up the long, windy gravel path to my house. My mother was an immortal being, and had bought this land roughly two hundred years ago when she’d moved out west. She had spent twenty years on the house and path. Twenty, long years. In those years, a friend of hers named Mary Magdalena Jones had died, and her husband at the time, a dragon-shifter named Balan, or Prayer, had been paralyzed waist-down by a tree collapsing on him in a storm. In the end, she had a house roughly five thousand square feet and eight bedrooms and she was pretty well off at the time for compensation of helping the union army with weapon supplies. The mansion had since been fixed up more and more until it resembled a big brick house, the only things that remained suggesting its ancientness being the cornerstone that said, ‘Est MDCCCXCVII,’ or for simpletons, 1897, and the inner walls being wooden slats.
Good ol home. I unlocked the door and set my bag inside, and my brother, Corey, ran up to me and gave me a tight hug.
He had no control over his shift, as he’d never been interested, and as such, he went to a private school that was all shifters. The same one I went to until I got expelled after I broke an asshole’s jaw after she called me the r-word and gave me a bloody nose. I still had to deal with her in my pack, and she still hated me.
I retreated to my room and stayed seated. Olivia texted me, and I went out to meet her.
She looked like what most people thought a dragon shifter looked like when in her hybrid form. Olive skin, big dark eyes, ears like an avali’s but scaly. She had white and gold scales in striped patterns, and serrated dragon-like claws at the end of her fingers if she wanted them out. Keyword ‘like’. Dragons’ claws typically weren’t serrated and therefore weren’t war crimes, they were more like a bayonet, triple edged. Just no gun underneath. But as we weren’t sure what she shifted into, she called herself a dragon shifter for simplicity's sake.
We walked along the path from my house to the hiking trail, and we walked along for a while. Eventually, Lyorna came by, and we talked and joked for a while, when Olivia squealed and said something amazing.
“Viper finally said I’m ready to be a healer!”
She was jumping up and down and her magic glow shooting everywhere.
“Funny, considering you still faint at the sight of blood,” I joked.
“We were twelve-!”
“I wasn’t,” Lyorna laughed, cutting her off.
Olivia stuck her tongue out at Lyorna and I heard a gunshot.
We instinctively hid under bushes, and in the earth; in Olivia’s case, and I felt someone grab me by the back of the neck and hold a gun to my throat.
I twisted before they could shoot, and flipped them over, then felt the bullet hit me in the foot. I shrieked, and Lyorna knocked out the other person, emerging from behind him and punching him in the back of the skull.
She lifted me and kissed my forehead, then called for Olivia.
Olivia emerged from the earth, the spaces between her scales caked with earth and grass. She shook her scales loose of dirt and put her glowing hand on my ankle and healed the foot over the course of an hour.
“Thank you,” I croaked.
I tried to stand and fell, and Lyorna giggled, “Oh, do you want mommy to come and kiss your little boo-boo-”
I stopped her and said, “Don’t finish that fucking sentence or I’ll take that gun down there and shoot,”
“Sorry,” she said, “Too far?”
“Too far,” I confirmed.
She carried me as a bundle in her red-mud wings for a while until I could stand again, and we walked for a while longer, when Lyorna’s ears twitched, and she pulled all of us off the path.
A blond girl I recognized as Tatiana’s friend jogged by, eyes filled with tears, an adult’s handprint on her cheek, and a small, half-filipino girl that looked about eight but talked like a ten year-old that followed after.
The little girl went ahead and Moon stopped, bending over and stretching.
The girl turned, and walked back to Moon, then Moon lifted her up, when came a gunshot, and Moon ducked to the floor, the little one almost completely hidden.
Someone walked by us, and I ducked further into the bush and closed my eyes.
“Where is Chamomile Malkom?” Hunter hissed.
“Hunter- What are you doing?” Moon whispered. I heard her backing away from the crunch on the gravel path.
“Luna, don’t play dumb. Where is she?”
“I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!” she screamed.
I heard rapid footsteps, and dared to open my eyes. From what I could see, Hunter had wrapped a pistol around Moon’s throat, and her face was turning red from lack of oxygen. The child was trying to pull Hunter away.
I decided to act at that moment.
I howled, and he let Moon go, who rubbed her throat and sank to her knees, tears falling even harder.
I crawled out in my wolf form and nudged her with my snout.
“Cami, what are you doing?” Olivia hissed in the dialect of the shifter tongue we spoke.
“Relax,” I said.
I nudged her again, and she took the hint and started running, when Hunter ran out of the bushes and laughed.
He shot me in the side, and I roared. Moon returned to me and I accidentally bit her. She collapsed, and Lyorna ran out of the bushes, grabbed her and the little girl, and flew upwards to get them to safety.
Hunter didn’t chase them.
“I’ve been waiting years for this,” he snarled.
I started laughing. “With your patience? You insist on using the scholar’s mate opening so the match is over quicker,”
He turned red and shoved his pistol into my mouth. With difficulty, as I was over a foot taller than him. And most people.
“Shut up,” he snarled.
I nodded.
He chained my wrists behind me, and I heard Olivia following us.
I didn’t really try to fight back, I have to admit. I was only playing a game with him.
He eventually settled for weakly punching me in the jaw, and I faked a blackout. He dragged me along for a bit, and I had to resist the urge to laugh at him.
---
Eventually, he stopped after dragging me down a flight of stairs and called, “I found a were-bitch!”
At that moment, I decided to open my eyes, and as the Critura of my pack, I was able to turn people into shifters if they made direct eye contact with me when I had my eyes glow gold.
One of them seized up, and they immediately blindfolded me and gagged me. I heard one of them approach me and kick me in the gut as I tried to spit out my gag.
I doubled over, and roared loud enough to make at least one person’s ears bleed.
Someone tilted my chin upward, probably to make me meet their eyes, and I spat in their face, then threw out one leg, swept the other person and pulled apart the silver cuffs with brute force.
I pulled off my blindfold and immediately ran away, ignoring the pain in my side.
Three chased after me. My history teacher, Hunter, and my guidance counselor. Mr. Simmons had a rifle that he periodically tried to shoot me with, Hunter had his pistol, and my guidance counselor had a dagger that she didn’t throw.
I eventually threw them off, and the adrenaline caught up with me.
I was aware when my cheek hit the ground and less so when Olivia and Lyorna lifted me.
Here some whump. its been drifting in my google docs for a while, but here
its part of a larger series but won't be on tumblr
---
I lay on my back, reading the book Doctor Harland had just given me. I liked it thus far.
He kneeled next to me, petting my stomach while he hooked me up to some kind of machine. I dropped the book, remembering the page number, and I found myself unable to move.
“It’ll be over in a minute,” he whispered. I didn’t respond as my brain went foggy and I closed my eyes.
He bashed me in the side of the face, and my eyes flew open.
I stared at him, and he said, “Begin test number G-1-7-8-8,”
My muscles tensed and I went numb as something inserted itself in both sides of my neck and my muscles spasmed and I thrashed abou-
—
I came to with my muscles stiff.
“Test failed,” Doctor Harland remarked. “We need to deal with the epilepsy,”
He fastened an oxygen mask over my face and put an IV in my skin.
“We’ll feed you tonight, ‘kay? Just sleep off th-,”
Darkness.
—
I opened my eyes in my bed, and Doctor Harland entered a few minutes later.
“Sit up,” he ordered. I obeyed, and he handed me my book again.
“I’ll get you a treat for sitting quietly and letting us test our new device on you,”
I didn’t respond, immersed in the book’s world. It was about a girl who discovered she was the daughter of King Oberon from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Doctor Harland said he would get me the rest of the series after giving me a modern translation of the play so I could better understand it.
He held out something that smelled sweet and I took it, then ate it, my tail wagging happily.
He pet my head and I purred.
“One-two-seven-three, any strange feelings?” He asked.
“No,” I chirped.
“Good. Good. Nausea? Tiredness? Breathing normally?”
He checked my heart rate and breathing for any abnormalities.
“Normal. Okay. Darling little test subject, we’re going to try and treat the illness that made this test fail. We’re going to cure it,”
“What illness?” I asked.
“You- have a reaction to certain things, and it causes you to stop existing for a minute, meaning we can’t do certain tests. We try to treat it and you don’t respond to medications, so we need to cut it out,”
I felt something cold on my wrist and whimpered, “No, not again, don’t look at my brain- please!”
“What? No. The procedure requires you to be awake or you’ll die, we’ve already tested it, and it’s painful. We’d give you painkillers, but that’s unsafe until after,”
I shuddered and hissed when he brought his hand to my tail. I tried to bite him as he tied it under the bed and shackled my other three wrists and my ankles to the bed.
“Please! NO!”
“It’ll all be over soon,”
He called for Doctor Fletcher and Doctor Amatris. Doctor Amatris held my chest down and Doctor Fletcher attached electrodes to my skull, and I felt like I exploded a few minutes later. I shrieked and thrashed around, when I heard something snap.
“Oh shit!” Doctor Amatris shouted.
I felt the pain dull a bit, and Doctor Harland whispered, “Its over, you’re going to have morphine tablets now,”
“Okay,” I mumbled before changing form to my more human self and laying back, my forehead caked with sweat. They undid the shackles, and Doctor Amatris took my hand in hers and the trio set my leg in a splint.
I cried out and whimpered, “Hurts,” when Doctor Fletcher shoved a capsule into my mouth and held my lips shut until I swallowed, then gave me water.
I rolled to my side and shivered, still in deep pain. I started crying and Doctor Harland sat me up and started hand feeding me between each sob. It was cold, barely seasoned chicken, like always.
When I was done, I dove under the bed, where it was calmest, no one trying to talk to me, even though it was dark.
“One-two-seven-three, don’t be like that,” Doctor Fletcher said. “Do you want to undo all the progress in training out that habit?”
I hissed at him and swatted at his ankles, then curled into a ball and continued crying into my fur.
Doctor Amatris kneeled in front of me and held out her hand. I didn’t take it. She very gently petted the fluff on my neck, and I continued sobbing, though it made me feel a bit better.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “The pain’s over now,”
She very slowly pulled me out, as though acclimating a fish from one tank to another. At one point I had a couple fish and a snail, and in a rage, Doctor Harland smashed the tank, killing all three of them. I cried for weeks after that, as at that point, I’d been taking care of them for four years.
“There, how do you feel?”
“Hurts,” I croaked, my voice raw. It felt like the color red to speak.
She lifted me and set me back on the bed, tucked me in like a mother would her child, and kissed me on where my forehead would be, and when she left, Doctor Harland inserted an IV into my skin. She wasn’t allowed to see it, for some reason, I wasn’t even sure if she knew.
I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.
—
What was supposed to be a dreamless sleep became a nightmare, one where I was playing with a child, and we were about the same height. It was all flashing lights and pain and fear when someone grabbed me, and-
I woke up, screaming for someone whose name I didn’t remember. The IV had broken.
I took off my oxygen mask and sobbed in the dark. Normally Doctor Harland stayed to make sure I felt safe at night, it was too dark for me. I wished I had control of my lights, but past lights-out, they couldn’t be turned on unless Doctor Harland or someone else swiped a keycard.
I heard rapid footsteps, and a woman in a dark blue uniform with a thick black stick and a big spiky club opened the door, then said into a strange black box, “False alarm. One of them woke up, over,”
A garbled voice came from the box, “How?”
“Its IV looks broken,”
“Which one?”
She stepped back and looked at the sign that said my room number with a beam of light that came from a black stick.
I ran over and took the lightstick after a bit of back and forth, then clicked the button on and off as she said, “It just took my flashlight,”
I called, “Room 5-6-6 B!” and went back to playing with the ‘flashlight’, then grabbed my book and started reading with the concentrated beam of light.
The woman repeated the room number I gave her and said, “I’m gonna need back-up to get it back into bed, its strong,”
I got under my bed and continued reading, until someone else in a dark blue uniform grabbed me and bashed me with a spike on their club. I dropped the ‘flashlight’ and-
-
I came to with my upper wrists shackled to my bed’s headboard and my entire body numb.
“Okay, so, two hundred million watts can cause seizures. Duly noted,” the one who’d hit me with the spike muttered.
“Seizure? Watt?” I parroted, trying to get feeling back in my tongue. “Why’d you do that?”
“Holy shit it talks,” the woman said.
“Yes I talk, why wouldn’t I talk? Also, I’m not an it, I’m- I’m a girl,”
“Someone get one of the night shift doctors,” the woman ordered. Another person left the room.
“It’s dark!” I complained.
The woman groaned and said, “Deal with it, how old are you, seven, eight?”
“Thirteen, fourteen in four months and two days,”
“How are you that old? Why haven’t you committed suicide yet?” the man asked.
“Suicide?” I’d parroted. I knew what it met at a base level, but in books they always said it in association with a stupid battle plan.
“You know, killing yo-”
“I know what it means, I just thought it only went with wars?”
“What?”
“In books,” I chirped. I motioned to one that said it, then said the page number.
“Oh-kaaay, you can read,”
“Isn’t that normal? Well except illiteracy rates in fantasy places, but isn’t it normal now?”
The man who’d left returned with Doctor Amatris.
“One-two-seven-three, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“I had a nightmare,” I replied.
“Come here,”
“I can’t,”
She took a key from one of the security guards and unlocked my manacles, then lifted me into her arms, though it was much more awkward than when I was little, considering I was about as big as her now.
I laid my chin on her shoulder, and she carried me away, off to another room, this one with more light.
“We oughta get you a nightlight,”
“Nightlight?” I parroted. “What’s that?”
“Its a little light that plugs into a wall and makes the room brighter,”
She unhooked a little square that glowed blue until it exited the wall, “Normally they come in fun shapes, but until I go shopping tomorrow, we can use this one. I’ll get a bunch of them and let you pick them out, okay?”
“Okay,” I chirped.
She carried me back to my room and lay me on my bed, and I grabbed her arm and whimpered, “Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone,”
“I have to go back to work,”
“I’m scared,” I whimpered.
She turned back around and fastened my oxygen mask on my mouth and nose.
“You’ll be fine. And if you wake up again, I’ll come back and keep you company ‘til you fall asleep again. Now close your eyes, goodnight, don’t let the bed bugs bite,”
“What’s a bed bug?”
“You don’t want to know,”
She shuddered and tucked me in, then kneeled next to me and rubbed my forehead to calm me. But sleep would be a long time coming. I didn’t fall asleep until all the lights turned back on.
It’s Player Week time, folks!!! Get your gremlin hackers ready!!! @playerappreciationweek
(Written alt prompt 1, "Get ready to rack up more frequent flyer miles!")
Summary:
Coarse ropes bite into Player’s skin, cloth fabric covers his eyes. His bindings are tough, knotted by expert, practiced hands. He’s not the first person they’ve done this to, and if history repeats itself, he will not be the last. Some have escaped, others haven’t, but both were far more skilled than Player. He’s no operative, he’s no trained thief, he’s a tiny, scrawny little hacker, and he’s- “Oh, calm down, Player!” He squawks as an arm wrap around his neck, inhibiting his ability to breathe as his attacker drags him closer. “You’re being so dramatic!” -Been kidnapped. By his own friends.
-- Or, alternatively:
For his nineteenth birthday, all Player wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep. Unfortunately for him, he ends up kidnapped by two overzealous red-heads.
What The Tide Brought In
[Next] — {Masterlist}
Contents: TW Restraints, TW Choking/ Strangling, TW Venomous Injury, TW Threats, Siren Whump, Pirate Whump, Sadistic Whumper, Defiant/ Stoic Whumpee
+++
“Captain, we’re going to need to make a port stop sooner than we expected. Our food supply is a little low.”
Looking off towards the distance of the endless sea, Malik was leaning against the wooden railing along the side of the vast ship. A deep internal sigh escaping him from the calmness of the morning. The waves were docile today, clear skies, and perfect winds. Glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge his first mate, Jovey. His signature side smirk that was as charming as ever.
“Means the lads are all eating well. Maybe too well, but we’ll tackle that later.” The deep rumble in his chest resonates through his chuckle, coming out a bit course from the early morning air. “Set a course for Port Royal, should be the nearest one to us.”
Rising from his hunched position, his arms reach to the amber sky and soft huff escapes him. It had been a long month on the waters of the Atlantic, but shifting to the warmer tides of the Caribbean always reminded him where home was. It wouldn’t be more than a day now when he’d be able to collapse in a bed that doesn’t sway with the waves, in a warm tavern with a bottle of rum all to himself, and a bowl of stew from anything that wasn’t pescado. Possibly partaking in a little stealing, sabotaging, or cheating just to pass the time. Not having to be a captain for at least a week was a break he couldn’t wait for. The crew he inherited only knew how to follow orders when his voice was harsh as the winds, otherwise they’d slack off or get too comfortable. Not that he minded putting them in their place, it boosted his ego and there was a satisfaction in seeing the yielding in their eyes as they adjusted their tone and fixed their posture. Intimidation and strength. The qualities he believed was required of a captain, especially one as successful as he was.
Unfortunately for him, because of his imposing presence on both the waters and the shores, it was now a rare occurrence for his ship to be attempted to be commandeered or attacked by other occupants of the sea. Even on land, most steered clear of him or were careful with their words. It made his exhibitions boring to say the least, no challenges, no competition. There hasn't even been ruthless storms as of late, the type to make experienced sailors soil themselves, the ones that threaten to sink you with your ship until you come out victorious. Even now as he turns to grip the wheel in his hands and his eyes scan the deck a flight below him where his men work, he doesn’t feel that thrill of adventure that used to drive him. He didn’t know if he would anytime soon with his reputation being as strong as it is.
His luck was akin to that of being at the mercy of a coin toss at times, whether today was a virtuous luck sent by the gods or a vicious one, he couldn’t care when his wishes were granted. Of course they were, he always got everything he wanted eventually.
“Captain! We caught something!”
His heads whips over towards port side, his men hoisting up large net that swung and twisted violently. Setting Jovey to steady the wheel, he quickly glides down the railing of the stairs before hopping to his feet on the deck. Trotting over to the commotion as his crew surround the catch. They part away to forge a path for him as he approaches and what he see’s makes his whole world light up in flurry of excitement. A siren.
“Captain... is that the creature from the legends?”
Malik can’t help but let out a hearty laugh, not just at the question, but also out of astonishment at his luck. His eyes glued to the young male siren thrashing about in the thick rope, hissing and growling like a wild animal.
“That’s right lads! Look what the tide brought us, a siren from the tales of the sea.”
He gets down on one knee beside the tangled fishy creature. The strong scent of seawater mixed with an all too familiar rotten fish odor. Reaching down to grab the main rope line and tugging on it, the net tightens around the specimen and constricts its movements. A protesting growl leaving the siren as it glares through the rope straight at him. He can’t help grin a little maddeningly. Realizing just how amazing this turn of events was. Seeing this sirens unwavering aggression and defiance even from only being on board a few minutes sparked a fire in Malik.
“You’re far from home, aren’t you bilge rat? These aren't your waters.”
The siren, seemingly frantic and panicked from its predicament squirms in the net. Its tail thudding against the boards of the deck. Maliks chuckles overpowering the sirens protesting sounds. The crew that surrounded them watching in a mix of curiosity and caution. Taking the time to admire such rare creature in their waters. Its contrasting palette of blue hues and white accents. His finned tail pointed at the ends, three appendages along each side of his fish body with cerata extended out from each. His upper body resembling that of a normal young man, but scattered with a light blue vitiligo-esque pattern along his skin. Medium length dark blue hair damp and cascading over his shoulders. His fingers pointed like claws and his fangs baring. And those, oh so, captivating golden eyes.
“Alright lads, quit gawking. Why don’t we make our guest more... comfortable?”
Malik stands up as his crew get to work, knowing the protocol underlining his words. A few of the men dragging the siren towards the largest mast in the middle of the top deck. When they start to extract him from the net, he proves to be nothing if not aggressive and hostile. Using his sharpened nails to dig into the crews arms and legs, making them bleed. Biting hands and forearms when they try to lift him up. It took 5 sizable men just to get him up off the floor, but nobody was ready when one of the men got hit with one of the large appendages flapping around erratically through his struggle. The man stumbling back and falling down onto the wooden boards with a hard thud as he grips his chest. The crew managing to tie the siren up against the mast and restrain him. Everyone turns to look to their crew mate on the floor, struggling to breath. Malik rushes to his side and crouches down, inspecting the man and tugging his shirt down to see a hue of red amongst the inflammation quickly building on his chest.
“Hey… hey, lad, keep your eyes on me, alright? You better fucking stay awake, you hear me?”
Malik slapping the mans cheek a few times to keep his attention when he notices his eyes lolling around with no intention. He looked sick, almost nauseous. His hands clawing at his own chest as if there was a pain that he fruitlessly attempted to dig out of himself. Malik having to grab the mans hands to keep him from hurting himself.
“Get this boy below deck! Don’t let him fall asleep and keep a bucket near in case he vomits.” When his crew just stare at the both of them with nervous and distant expressions after what they witnessed, Malik let go of the mans hands and stood up with a threatening posture. “NOW!” That woke the crew from their paralysis as they quickly made their way to the injured man and helped carry him below deck to be treated and supervised.
Malik turning towards the mast where the siren was left restrained and desperately fighting at the thick rope. His hands clenching at his sides, a fury in his eyes that would make most crumble at his feet. He walks over to the creature with steady strides until he’s standing before him. The siren glaring right back up at him, a smirk twitching onto his face, expressing his satisfaction.
“Whoops, sorry cap. Didn’t realize how weak your me—”
The siren chokes on his words as Maliks hand wraps completely around his throat. An iron grip, unyielding as he leans down closer to the sirens face. A cold fury brewing behind his gaze while the creature flails and gasps for air. His tail beating against the mast frantically.
“If you dare to speak another word with that vile tongue fo yours, I will personally slice it out and force it down your throat. If that’s not enough to shut you up, I’ll cut off that tail of yours and feed you to the sharks. Got it, caviar?”
His voice was almost hushed, but didn’t lack the venom behind every word. Naturally making the siren tense as his glare falters from the combined threat and lack of oxygen. Maliks hand tightening around his neck hard enough to cause him to see stars and he reluctantly relented with a subtle nod. Enough for the hand to quickly retract and allow him to cough violently and heave for air. Maliks foreboding stance towering the fish creature while he watched with a sense of triumph that blossomed into pride as his grin plastered onto his face one more. For the first time in a long time, Malik found a thrill, something that made his heart race, something that made him tick. This siren, who had just backed down not even a few seconds ago, now scowling at him with a passion that was contagious.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for something like you to come along, little sea dragon.”
+++
Date: September 16, 2024
Masterlist
An arrogant Pirate Captain with the world at his feet wishes for something different to happen in his life. Hoping for a challenge to arise to entertain him. He ends up crossing paths with a Siren Prince. At first it’s all fun and games being able to manhandle and torment such a rare creature, but things take a turn. Having to learn the hard way that he’s not invincible, and can very much bleed.
Contents: Whumper turned Whumpee, Revenge, Sadistic/ Creepy Whumper, Defiant Whumpee, Pet Whumpee if You Squint.
⛔️TW: Torture, Violence, Captivity, Degredation, Restrained/Gagged, Fear, Suggestive Non-Con, Venom/ Poison, Threats⛔️
+——————————————————————————+
Caspian's Suffering Arc
#1: What The Tide Brought In 🌊
#2: Two Sides of The Same Coin
#3: (soon)
AU’s
N/A
Art & About
Malik De Lir
Caspian Glaucus
We’re going to ATTEMPT to post once a week. Go easy on me.
What The Tide Brought In
[Next]
Contents: TW Restraints, TW Choking/ Strangling, TW Venomous Injury, TW Threats, Siren Whump, Pirate Whump, Sadistic Whumper, Defiant/ Stoic Whumpee
+++
“Captain, we’re going to need to make a port stop sooner than we expected. Our food supply is a little low.”
Looking off towards the distance of the endless sea, Malik was leaning against the wooden railing along the side of the vast ship. A deep internal sigh escaping him from the calmness of the morning. The waves were docile today, clear skies, and perfect winds. Glancing over his shoulder to acknowledge his first mate, Jovey. His signature side smirk that was as charming as ever.
“Means the lads are all eating well. Maybe too well, but we’ll tackle that later.” The deep rumble in his chest resonates through his chuckle, coming out a bit course from the early morning air. “Set a course for Port Royal, should be the nearest one to us.”
Rising from his hunched position, his arms reach to the amber sky and soft huff escapes him. It had been a long month on the waters of the Atlantic, but shifting to the warmer tides of the Caribbean always reminded him where home was. It wouldn’t be more than a day now when he’d be able to collapse in a bed that doesn’t sway with the waves, in a warm tavern with a bottle of rum all to himself, and a bowl of stew from anything that wasn’t pescado. Possibly partaking in a little stealing, sabotaging, or cheating just to pass the time. Not having to be a captain for at least a week was a break he couldn’t wait for. The crew he inherited only knew how to follow orders when his voice was harsh as the winds, otherwise they’d slack off or get too comfortable. Not that he minded putting them in their place, it boosted his ego and there was a satisfaction in seeing the yielding in their eyes as they adjusted their tone and fixed their posture. Intimidation and strength. The qualities he believed was required of a captain, especially one as successful as he was.
Unfortunately for him, because of his imposing presence on both the waters and the shores, it was now a rare occurrence for his ship to be attempted to be commandeered or attacked by other occupants of the sea. Even on land, most steered clear of him or were careful with their words. It made his exhibitions boring to say the least, no challenges, no competition. There hasn't even been ruthless storms as of late, the type to make experienced sailors soil themselves, the ones that threaten to sink you with your ship until you come out victorious. Even now as he turns to grip the wheel in his hands and his eyes scan the deck a flight below him where his men work, he doesn’t feel that thrill of adventure that used to drive him. He didn’t know if he would anytime soon with his reputation being as strong as it is.
His luck was akin to that of being at the mercy of a coin toss at times, whether today was a virtuous luck sent by the gods or a vicious one, he couldn’t care when his wishes were granted. Of course they were, he always got everything he wanted eventually.
“Captain! We caught something!”
His heads whips over towards port side, his men hoisting up large net that swung and twisted violently. Setting Jovey to steady the wheel, he quickly glides down the railing of the stairs before hopping to his feet on the deck. Trotting over to the commotion as his crew surround the catch. They part away to forge a path for him as he approaches and what he see’s makes his whole world light up in flurry of excitement. A siren.
“Captain... is that the creature from the legends?”
Malik can’t help but let out a hearty laugh, not just at the question, but also out of astonishment at his luck. His eyes glued to the young male siren thrashing about in the thick rope, hissing and growling like a wild animal.
“That’s right lads! Look what the tide brought us, a siren from the tales of the sea.”
He gets down on one knee beside the tangled fishy creature. The strong scent of seawater mixed with an all too familiar rotten fish odor. Reaching down to grab the main rope line and tugging on it, the net tightens around the specimen and constricts its movements. A protesting growl leaving the siren as it glares through the rope straight at him. He can’t help grin a little maddeningly. Realizing just how amazing this turn of events was. Seeing this sirens unwavering aggression and defiance even from only being on board a few minutes sparked a fire in Malik.
“You’re far from home, aren’t you bilge rat? These aren't your waters.”
The siren, seemingly frantic and panicked from its predicament squirms in the net. Its tail thudding against the boards of the deck. Maliks chuckles overpowering the sirens protesting sounds. The crew that surrounded them watching in a mix of curiosity and caution. Taking the time to admire such rare creature in their waters. Its contrasting palette of blue hues and white accents. His finned tail pointed at the ends, three appendages along each side of his fish body with cerata extended out from each. His upper body resembling that of a normal young man, but scattered with a light blue vitiligo-esque pattern along his skin. Medium length dark blue hair damp and cascading over his shoulders. His fingers pointed like claws and his fangs baring. And those, oh so, captivating golden eyes.
“Alright lads, quit gawking. Why don’t we make our guest more... comfortable?”
Malik stands up as his crew get to work, knowing the protocol underlining his words. A few of the men dragging the siren towards the largest mast in the middle of the top deck. When they start to extract him from the net, he proves to be nothing if not aggressive and hostile. Using his sharpened nails to dig into the crews arms and legs, making them bleed. Biting hands and forearms when they try to lift him up. It took 5 sizable men just to get him up off the floor, but nobody was ready when one of the men got hit with one of the large appendages flapping around erratically through his struggle. The man stumbling back and falling down onto the wooden boards with a hard thud as he grips his chest. The crew managing to tie the siren up against the mast and restrain him. Everyone turns to look to their crew mate on the floor, struggling to breath. Malik rushes to his side and crouches down, inspecting the man and tugging his shirt down to see a hue of red amongst the inflammation quickly building on his chest.
“Hey… hey, lad, keep your eyes on me, alright? You better fucking stay awake, you hear me?”
Malik slapping the mans cheek a few times to keep his attention when he notices his eyes lolling around with no intention. He looked sick, almost nauseous. His hands clawing at his own chest as if there was a pain that he fruitlessly attempted to dig out of himself. Malik having to grab the mans hands to keep him from hurting himself.
“Get this boy below deck! Don’t let him fall asleep and keep a bucket near in case he vomits.” When his crew just stare at the both of them with nervous and distant expressions after what they witnessed, Malik let go of the mans hands and stood up with a threatening posture. “NOW!” That woke the crew from their paralysis as they quickly made their way to the injured man and helped carry him below deck to be treated and supervised.
Malik turning towards the mast where the siren was left restrained and desperately fighting at the thick rope. His hands clenching at his sides, a fury in his eyes that would make most crumble at his feet. He walks over to the creature with steady strides until he’s standing before him. The siren glaring right back up at him, a smirk twitching onto his face, expressing his satisfaction.
“Whoops, sorry cap. Didn’t realize how weak your me—”
The siren chokes on his words as Maliks hand wraps completely around his throat. An iron grip, unyielding as he leans down closer to the sirens face. A cold fury brewing behind his gaze while the creature flails and gasps for air. His tail beating against the mast frantically.
“If you dare to speak another word with that vile tongue fo yours, I will personally slice it out and force it down your throat. If that’s not enough to shut you up, I’ll cut off that tail of yours and feed you to the sharks. Got it, caviar?”
His voice was almost hushed, but didn’t lack the venom behind every word. Naturally making the siren tense as his glare falters from the combined threat and lack of oxygen. Maliks hand tightening around his neck hard enough to cause him to see stars and he reluctantly relented with a subtle nod. Enough for the hand to quickly retract and allow him to cough violently and heave for air. Maliks foreboding stance towering the fish creature while he watched with a sense of triumph that blossomed into pride as his grin plastered onto his face one more. For the first time in a long time, Malik found a thrill, something that made his heart race, something that made him tick. This siren, who had just backed down not even a few seconds ago, now scowling at him with a passion that was contagious.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for something like you to come along, little sea dragon.”
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Date: September 16, 2024
Two Sides of The Same Coin
[Previous / Next] — {Masterlist}
Content: TW Restraints, TW SA Threat, TW Knifepoint, TW Threats of Violence, TW Fear, Siren Whump, Sadistic Whumper, Defiant Whumpee.
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Malik made sure to keep the crew below deck for the night. Not wanting to give the siren any attempts at enchanting his men with his singly voice. He knew his crew could be slightly weak minded compared to his own will, so it wouldn’t take more than a few hypnotic whispers from a siren to get them on their knees like dogs at your heel. That being said, he didn’t trust himself either, not having ever dealt with a siren before. He thought it strange for one to be so far off from the Mediterranean Sea where they are said to dwell.
Despite his caution, his intrigue was stronger. The thrill of having a threat on board and at his mercy. A creature of legend no less, his pride was beaming even under his cool facade while he cataloged in his journal about the days events. The warm light of a lantern softly illuminating the desk he was sitting at while the ship swayed in a lullaby motion. Absently signing his signature on the page before closing the large journal. His thumb ghosting over the golden lettering of the leather cover where it read:
Captains Log of the Sirens Solstice.
He always found that name ironic until today. Given that sirens rarely, if ever, came all the way to the Caribbean unless it was for a reason. On top of that, it was certainly out of place for a siren to be alone when traveling so far. A trinity of knocks at his door broke his thoughts. Sighing and standing up from his chair before he walks over to open the door, his boots softly thumping on the wooden planks with each step.
When he opens the door, he sees Jovey standing on the other side. Holding a bottle of rum with two chalices in his other hand. He raises them up in his hands as if presenting them.
“Could I bother you with a drink, Captain?” He asked with a softer voice, with it being late in the night and not wanting to stir the crew from their sleep.
Malik smirked slightly at the offer and chuckled lightly under his breath. “I tell you to stay below deck, but you defy my order to offer me a drink? Some first mate you are.” Despite his chiding words, his tone held no bitterness. Even standing aside and allowing Jovey to step into his cabin.
“I didn’t think that order was directed towards me. Must’ve been some miscommunication.” His cheeky tone being accompanied by a playful smile as he took a seat across from the desk.
Malik rolled his eyes to Joveys’ back while closing the door. Then he made his way back to his seat behind the wooden desk that separated them. Jovey already pouring two glasses of rum for them before offering one of them. Malik taking it gingerly and softly clinking his glass to Joveys’. “So… how is the lad. Cormack, right? He’s not dying or anything, is he?” He asked casually while taking a sip of his drink.
“No, he’s alright. The swellings already going down thankfully. It doesn’t seem like whatever that siren stung him with is lethal. Just knocks you down a peg.”
Malik nods slightly with an unconcerned hum. Tapping his fingers along the side of the chalice while he holds it on the table. It’s not that he didn’t care about his crews’ well-being, their condition just never weighed on his mind. He would internally scold them for being weak enough to get injured or comprised so easily, but he usually put up the persona of a caring captain that was only stern when he needed to be. That didn’t stop him from wanting to strangle his crew himself whenever they made amateur mistakes or found themselves incapacitated. His eyes drifting off towards a window to the side of them that showed the moonlight cascading over the waves. “Why do you think that creature was sent to us?”
Jovey follows his gaze towards the window for a moment before looking back towards him again, noting his almost distant tone as if he was filing through a million thoughts. “I’m not so sure about him being ‘sent’ to us for a reason, Captain, but I’m sure he’s just lost. Probably swam too far away from home.” Taking a sip as he takes a break to organize his own mind. He knew Malik could be ruthless, he’s seen it before even if the newer men in the crew weren’t there to witness it. When the siren came on board, although being at the stern side and taking over the wheel, he could see what was occurring on deck. Noting the way his Captains eyes glinted with a new found fervor, that smile that he knew all too well meant there was a danger brewing. “Why do you believe it was for a reason?”
“Because the tides strike with purpose…” Malik said matter-of-factly. Averting his eyes from the window and turning his attention back to Jovey. Noticing how he seemed to be almost analyzing him, trying to figure out his intentions. “… the sea does not act randomly as one might believe. Everything happens for a reason out on these waters, whether it be to our benefit or disadvantage.” Malik can’t help but smile faintly with a soft scoff as he glances down at his drink. “I’m starting to sound like that old quack Azure.”
Joveys’ smile mirrored Maliks’, his head shaking back and forth in an amused manner. “You sound more like him everyday. In a good way… it’s why he chose you.” Studying his expression, Malik had a gaze of longing, almost nostalgic. A soft smile that was rarely seen, if ever, only when they were alone. “You know, I remember when I first got pulled onto this ship. We were around the same age… not that we still aren’t obviously, but for some reason I always felt like you were older than me. You always knew what you were doing, and you were one of the few people in the crew who gave me a chance.”
Malik redirected his gaze to Jovey once again, a bit taken aback by the sudden throwback and vulnerability, but he tried not to soften his features out of habit of being stoic. “Trust me, I never knew what I was doing. I only ever acted like I knew everything because that’s the only way to get people to respect you.” He swished his rum in his cup absently before taking another sip. “You’re a good man, Jovey. For once, I might even admit to feeling a bit jealous of you. The crew loves you, and we’re all lucky to have you. But if you tell them I said that, then I’ll skin you and toss you off the plank myself.” He couldn’t help but give that teasing threat with a smug smile.
That drew out a soft snort from Jovey as he smiled a bit wider from the playful threat he knew had no real malice behind it. Not when it came to him. He leaned back in his chair as he took his own glass from the table to hold it on his lap. “Who’s to say I’ll give you the chance, Captain? I might just throw myself overboard before you can catch me.” He counters back jokingly.
“If you do that, lad, I’ll jump into the raging tides to fish you out just so I can have the pleasure of pushing you off myself.”
“Maybe I’ll tie a cannon ball to my foot so I sink faster and you won’t be able to pull me up.”
“Maybe I’ll just shoot a harpoon into your leg and force the crew to hoist you out of the water.”
“You’d go through all that trouble just to feed me to the sharks yourself?”
“For you, Jovey, you better believe I would.”
They both stare at each other in silence for a few seconds that seemed to stretch on before they both began to laugh and heartily chuckle. Joveys indistinguishable snorts between breaths always made his laugh contagious to Malik. For a moment, he couldn’t help but just watch Jovey, seeing his smile and how bright he looked even in the dim lit quarters. He had to mentally scold himself for staring and allowing himself to find a sense of attachment towards him. He lightly cleared his throat before chugging down the rest of his rum and setting his cup to the side. “Alright, that’s enough banter for one night. Leave me be you scoundrel.” He said lightheartedly.
Jovey rolled his eyes slightly with a small smile and stood up from his chair. Grabbing the rum bottle from the table and collecting the other chalice. “Whatever you say, De Lir, sir.” A hint of sass escaping him, knowing he could get away with it. He turns and heads for the door, cracking it open slightly before turning back to look at Malik. “If I may, Captain. What are you planning to do with the siren?”
A soft tch leaves Malik as he smiles from Joveys sass. When he turns back to inquire about the siren, his smile fades. His cold and aloof demeanor resurfacing. “Good night, Jovey.”
———
The tides were still calm the next morning. Uneventful, at least, it normally would be. Malik stood before the siren, the crew crowding around in a crescent formation behind him. It was still tied up tightly to the mast. Although it was apparently obvious that it struggled for most of the night based on the claw marks that were carved into the wood of the pillar. Even some of the rope looked shredded and loosened but it wasn’t enough to free itself. It looked like he was asleep. Limp in the restraints and head looked down with his chin touching his chest. They knew better, but that wasn’t what caught all of their attention though.
His tail was gone, or rather, replaced by a pair of legs. His fishy ears reduced to normal human ones. The gills along his ribs replaced by smooth skin. The dark blue claws at the tips of his fingers were now short and trimmed. It was an enigma to both the crew and Malik. The siren they brought aboard was now a seemingly normal young man. They knew it was him, but appearance-wise, it threw them for a loop.
Malik stepped up to the siren and gripped a chunk of the back of his hair before yanking his head back. Seeing the siren wince and let out a hiss of discomfort from his grip. He grinned as he stared down at the siren. Analyzing its features, seeing the marks of light blue along his skin. It’s golden eyes, now being up close, noting the two spots of gold in each of them. “What happened to you, little dragon? Lost your tail?”
The siren glares up at him with a fiery rage. He was frustrated having to be at the mercy of a pirate. He’d bite his hand off and claw that smug smile off his face if he could just loosen the rope enough to get one of his hands free. “I’m dried out you fucking assh—.”
Malik dug his fingers into the sirens scalp and tugged on his hair harder. Ripping a few hairs out in the process, extracting a groan from him that cuts off his words. He leans down closer to the siren to loom over him. “Your tongue is still as vile as yesterday. Someone wasn’t taught manners growing up…” Malik shoots a quick and hard jab to the sirens gut, the wind being knocked out of him as he tries to double over but the ropes keep him up. “… then again, neither was I.” Malik yanks on his hair and pulls his head back to slam against the mast before releasing his grip. Letting the siren deal with the aching sting in the back of his head. He takes a step back to take in the sirens human form. Observing him with a fascination that was anything but innocent or kind. “What is your name, siren?”
A hiss escapes the man as he tugs at the ropes out of frustration. His eyes scanning the crowd of pirates behind their captain. All of them pathetic and weak in his eyes. How dare any of them even get the privilege of seeing me? They were filthy, pungent, cowards that had no right to be in my presence, let alone hold me captive like this. “Fuck you, fuck all of you!”
Malik simply smiles, not his usual cocky smirk, an eerily sweet smile that was too calm. "We can have that arranged, after all, it's not everyday the lads get to let off a little steam on this ship..." He turns to face his crew. Gesturing with his hand towards the siren, as if offering him. "... isn't that right, boys?"
The crew look amongst each other, wondering if their captain was being serious, if they really did have full liberty to do as they pleased with such a rare catch. The siren staring blankly, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the realization of what the captain just suggested. That was until Malik put his hand up and chuckled breathily.
"Of course, there's one small problem that I'd like to address before you get started."
Reaching for his hidden dagger tucked between the band of his pants, he unsheathes it and turns back to the siren with a quick step, being directly in front of him once again with the curved dagger swiftly finding itself pressed against the creatures neck. The curve of the blade cupping his throat just beneath his adam's apple. The siren freezing from the sudden threatening position but never faltering with his burning glare into Malik's eyes. The pirate staring back with a cold and foreboding gaze.
"That little voice of yours. I can't let you tempt any of my men with it. As disappointed as I'll be to not hear that foul mouth of yours anymore, its time to cut that pretty little voice box out."
Malik drags the dagger along the sirens neck and tilts it up so the tip of the bade was lightly pressed against the bump in the middle of his throat. "If I carefully cut a line right here...", dragging the dagger down along the sirens throat, making him swallow thickly, "... we'll find your larynx. It encompasses your vocal cord. If we just...", a quick flick of the wrist causes the dagger to slice a light cut just off the side of the apple, making the sirens breath hitch and he growls under his breath, "... you won't be able to sing ever again. Helpless... weak... feeble little sea dragon."
"If you fucking do that I swear you'll regret it."
"I don't think I will. In fact, I think I'll enjoy this more than I should."
Even his crew behind him, watching the scene unfold, felt chills go through them having never seen this side of their captain before. Malik grabs the sirens chin in one hand with an iron grip and tilts his head back against the mast. The creature struggling and trying to squirm in the ropes. The pirate carefully grazing the blade along the center of the mans throat. Agonizingly pressing the tip of the dagger against the curve bulging out under the skin slowly. The sirens breath quickening as he gradually becomes panicked, realizing how serious the captain was. He can't help the words that quickly leave his mouth when a trickle of warm blood escapes him.
"I DON'T HAVE A SONG!"
Malik stops progressing, but not drawing back either. He tugs on his chin to pull his head back down to look him in the eye. Gazing with a malicious curiosity but a hint of doubt. "Every siren does, why should I believe you don't?"
"I don't you fuckin' psycho. I wasn't born with it, don't you think I would've tried to use it by now if I had it?"
"I'm not buying that for a second, caviar."
Malik pushes his chin back up and continues where he left off. Digging into the siren's neck more. Drawing out blood as he carves a small line along the apple. Making the creature hiss and groan, his hands clenching into fists as he tries to press impossibly further against the mast to get away.
"I'm being serious! Stop!"
Ignoring his protests, Malik cuts deeper. His hearing tuning out as he focuses on cutting to his goal. His heart was beating steadily, he couldn't help the enjoyment he was getting out of seeing the creature struggle fruitlessly. A sadistic smirk plastered on his face. The siren trying not to let fear take over, but it was getting progressively difficult the more blood that cascaded down his skin. The stinging of the blade slicing through layers of skin. Never in his life had he ever experienced pain, let alone having his own blood leave the safety of his body. He was royalty, he should be the one inflicting pain, he should be the one making this pirate cower beneath him.
"Malik."
A soft voice broke both their thought concentrations. Malik stilling in his actions before he turned to glance over his shoulder with a piercing glare that quickly softened. Seeing Jovey standing behind him, his expression one of concern and trepidation. The siren staring at him with a hint of relief and caution. Jovey steps closer, his eyes darting between his captain and the creature. Swallowing his unease.
"I don't think he's lying."
Malik takes a breather, thinking about his first mates words before reluctantly extracting the dagger from the sirens throat. A string of blood staining the tip of the blade as he lets go of the creatures chin and stands up fully. He turns around to face Jovey, a calmer aura exuding from him. He averts his gaze towards the crew still observing the scene. Some looking uncomfortable and uneasy, others indifferent or even seemingly intrigued. "We arrive at Port Royal tomorrow morning. Toss the bilgerat into one of the cells below deck. If he truly doesn't have the gift, then nobody will have a reason to let him out by then."
Malik looks back towards Jovey, holstering his dagger to his side.
"We'll see if your judgement is as sound as it always is, savvy?"
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Date: September 22, 2024
Taglist: @paperprinxe , @melpomenelamusa