#small potatoes to making her as a Black woman have to WORK IN SERVITUDE TO WHITE PEOPLE

[sage-nebula]

Martha didn't get a Tennant Doctor because she didn't want a Tennant Doctor. Martha was the only one of RTD's companions who left the Doctor of her own volition, and only ever called him back on her own terms, when she had need of him.

Rose didn't leave the Doctor willingly. Rose was trapped in an alternate universe because it was either that or be stuck in a void with Daleks and Cybermen for the rest of time. And when she returned (primarily to warn the Doctor about the oncoming darkness caused by Davros but also because she wanted to be with him), she left with the Metacrisis Tenth Doctor and their own TARDIS because that was the only way to give her a satisfying ending from the viewpoint of the audience. (And even then, there are some fans who will tell you that nothing short of her being with the Time Lord Doctor in the prime reality is satisfying, but that just couldn't happen for reasons outside the narrative story.)

Donna didn't leave the Doctor willingly. Donna absorbed all of the intelligence of a Time Lord into her human brain, and this was going to kill her. She had to have her memory erased and be kept away from anything alien for presumably forever or else the knowledge would return and literally kill her. Donna begged the Doctor not to wipe her memory anyway, because she would rather have died than give up that life. Just like Rose, Donna had planned on staying with the Doctor for the rest of her life.

This was not the case for Martha. Setting aside the fact that Martha was treated like garbage for the duration of her season from a writing standpoint, by the end of season three Martha has realized two things: 1.) that she is goddamn brilliant and never deserved to feel like she was second best, and 2.) that she doesn't want the Doctor anymore. Unlike Rose, Donna, and Captain Jack, Martha leaves the TARDIS of her own free will, to pursue her own life and career outside the Doctor. Even Sarah-Jane says in "School Reunion" that she waited for the Doctor to come back for her; she didn't want to leave, not permanently! But Martha did. She chose to step away. The only other companion to have done this during RTD's run is Mickey, so I guess Martha wasn't the only one; still, she's the only one of the primary companions, the three women, to want to leave. She made that choice herself.

Now, does that mean everything about Martha's ending was perfect? No. As much as the "Smith and Jones" wordplay of her ending with Mickey is amusing (get it, like her first episode), it makes no sense when you consider that she was engaged when she returned in season four, and yet we never hear of that fiance again. I mean, I guess it's fine since it's not like we ever saw him? But what happened there? Why was no thought given to Martha's story there? What was she doing with Mickey in an active war zone? Why no mention of her in these three specials even though, last we heard of her, she was working with UNIT in a really important position? I like Mel well enough, but why couldn't Martha have been there instead? Especially since Martha and Donna had a preexisting friendship, and would have been delighted to see each other again?

With that said though, she doesn't need a Tennant Doctor. She didn't want a Tennant Doctor. Frankly, Tennant's Doctor doesn't deserve her with the way he acted ("Rose would know" right to her face, like -- dude, I get it, you're grieving, but that's fucking rude and Rose would NOT approve you using her memory to make another woman feel bad about herself). Martha's character arc was about recognizing her own brilliance and her own worth; standing on her own two feet as a PROPER doctor, Doctor Martha Jones, walking the earth and saving the world without a TARDIS or Torchwood or a Time Lord brain. Just her own fucking determination and brilliance.

Rose and Donna got Tennant Doctors because that was the way to make their final send-offs satisfying. Rose and a Tennant Doctor got to be in love and happy together in a parallel world, which is fitting considering that they were in love and never wanted to leave each other. Donna and a Tennant Doctor get to be besties and happy together in this reality, so that RTD has a convenient excuse to pull Tennant back into a story if he ever wants to again (since it'd be hard to explain why Tentoo came over, versus having Fourteen right there) . . . but also because, like Rose, Donna never wanted to leave the Doctor, she wanted to be with him forever.

But Martha didn't want that. Martha left on her own accord. She left with a smile on her face and her cell phone on the TARDIS console, so that when she said "here boy!" the Doctor would listen. She left on her terms, with him at her call, only there when she has use for him.

And honestly? Good for her.

#like it was a fucking waste that we didn't see Martha at all in these specials #or even get a mention of her but like #she wouldn't WANT a Tennant Doctor. she was the only one of the 3 who left willingly! #(and honestly who can blame her like fr . . . the shit she put up with bc of him) #(the shit in the Family of Blood episodes gave her just cause to beat his ass into next week honestly) #(she hugs him at the end but honestly she should have beat his ass. just started swinging) #(how dare he do that to her? honestly?? i'm not talking about the love plot bit bc while that was ugh it's like #small potatoes to making her as a Black woman have to WORK IN SERVITUDE TO WHITE PEOPLE #and like the scene where he grabs her arm and throws her from the room? BITCH????? #GOD i'm mad again just THINKING about it #she should have beat his ass so hard he regenerated right then and there. AGH. #ANYWAY #Martha Jones deserved better but getting a Tennant Doctor is not better #not for her. it would be like a punishment honestly #she walked away from him and then you put his sad boy ass back on her doorstep?? hello??? no thank you #doctor who #martha jones #dw spoilers #this probably sounds like I hate Tennant's Doctor but I don't #I just hate how a lot of season 3 was written wrt how Martha was treated #like Martha having very legitimate concerns in the Shakespeare episode about being a Black woman in that time period #and Ten mocks her for being concerned like ??? #ARGGGHGHHGHGHGHG #ABOUT TO FLING MYSELF INTO THE TV TO BEAT HIS ASS MYSELF ISTFG #A N Y W A Y

[thiswasinevitableid]

sea monster indruck nsfw? maybe including one of them masturbating while fantasizing about the other one and confessing all their dirty thoughts as they're actually having sex? scary protective monster is also always hot if you're down for that

Here you go! I wasn’t able to fit in everything, but this one was fun!

This is all the hangman's fault. 

Indrid could be pleasantly dead right now, not trapped in a gibbet on a clifftop, if the man had bothered to check his ropes ahead of time. But no, instead he failed to see the rats had been gnawing on them and the blasted noose snapped clean off the instant it took Indrids weight. To the villagers, this was a sign that Indrid was indeed a witch (and the son of a demon, a rare charge that drags his poor, deceased mother into this mess). To Indrid, it meant a new set of bruises and the worst possible death. 

They locked him in the gibbet, the Atlantic crashing in angry, grey waves far below them. The man on his right is dead, eyeballs already plucked out by an enterprising bird, and the man on his left is getting there. If his visions are accurate, Indrid has a good five days of suffering the elements, the wild-life, and his own hunger and thirst before he joins them. 

A lifetime of visions breeds resignation in the face of fate, so he closes his eyes, follows the futures of luckier men as a temporary escape. The screams of his neighbor rouse him with a start. Their source is wholly unexpected. 

Looming at the edge of the cliff is an immense monster. From his vantage point, Indrid spies the creatures’ lower body still submerged in the sea, making it well over a hundred feet tall. It’s skin is green, it’s fingers webbed, and it’s crowned by a frill of wave-shaped spikes. The face is humanoid, with green eyes and hair of black water and a squid-beak where a mouth should be. Strange tentacles appear and disappear along its torso, as if they have not made up their mind as to whether they wish to exist. 

The monster sighs, “Fuckin hate it when they leave their dead like this. Unsightly, and I ain’t sure it’s good for the seagulls to be eatin humans.”

“The dead and, ah, almost dead do not enjoy it much either.” 

Upon hearing Indrids voice, the creature peers into his cage, “Huh, guess you ain’t dead. Either of you.” He turns his eyes on the other condemned man, who starts screaming again, “why’d they stick you here?”

“Witchcraft, specifically foresight and dabbling in ‘black magic.’ Well, that and a failed hanging” He tilts his head to show the visitor the rope mark. 

“Damn, that looks like it hurts. Wonder if I can..” the tip of an immense claw extends towards him. There’s a crackle of power that makes his ears pop, and the monster pulls his hand back, “nope, fuck, was hopin it’d be a small enough thing to do.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The monster sighs, “Long story short, my kind ain’t able to interact in an, uh, altruistic fashion with humans unless they’re acolytes. Can’t even open that damn cage without gettin zapped. Never mind that some of us don’t even wanna be old gods or whatever the fuck, still ain’t allowed to help. Maybe if I get a real big stick..”

“How does one become an acolyte?” Indrid presses his face to the front of the cage.

“Uh, you gotta swear loyalty and servitude to me, specifically, and the ‘old gods’ in general, live in a place I set up for you, and do stuff when I need you to.”

“Very well, are there specific words of the oath or…”

“Whoah, hold up now” the creature raises his hands, “this shit is real bindin’, rather you not rush into it.”

“Given the alternative is death, a rush is rather necessary.”

“All I’m sayin is you might wanna think for more than two seconds before you agree! And there might be other ways for me to get you out.”

“Do..do you not want an acolyte?” Being rejected by a sea monster feels like a fitting end to his life. 

“Not really. It ain’t personal or anythin; I’m just now leanin into the whole god thing and I still ain’t all that comfortable with parts if it. Last thing I want is an acolyte who saw me as ‘not as bad as death.”

“And the last thing I want is to die of exposure, so we are at an impasse.”

The monster clicks his beak once, “Okay, here’s what I’ll do. You take until sunset to think over whether you wanna be stuck servin’ this” he gestures to himself, “for a long-ass time, and we’ll go from there.”

“Very well.” Indrid resigns himself to several more hours of misery as the creature sinks from view. He glances at the other prisoner, “what do you think? He seems very considerate for a sea monster and I for one would like to keep living.”

The man stares, babbles incoherently for a moment before shouting, “You, you conversed with a devil! You are a witch, just as they say!”

“He spoke to both of us.” Indrid blinks, puzzled. 

“I closed my ears to his lies, you offered yourself to his wickedness! Speak no more to me from your black tongue.”

“Hmmph” Indrid does his best to ignore the ongoing beration. He’s not sure the creature is a god, but then again the creature seems uncertain on the matter himself. Serving a maybe-god seems no worse than serving the king, a life among the depths no less tolerable than his small home in a town torn to pieces by accusations of witchcraft. 

After a time, the storm clouds fulfill their purpose, a downpour battering him from all angles. Then a shadow falls over his shut eyes, and no more rain touches him. 

“Seemed awful rude to leave you stuck in the rain while you thought things over.” The god explains, one massive hand shielding the human. 

“Many thanks. Ah, I do have one concern about being your acolyte. Would...would I have to hurt anyone?”

“Don’t think so. I ain’t fond of hurtin folks, and if someone did need to be hurt, seems real strange to make the tiny human do it.”

Indrid puts on his most hopeful, charming smile, “I am very cold, very hungry, and my whole being feels as though it’s been stomped on by a team of horses. Perhaps I could give my answer early?”

A chuckle, like bubbles in deep water, “Hard to say no to that face. Okay, you got a deal. I checked with Joe while I was gone, to make sure I knew the right thing to do if you said yes. I’m gonna say the oath, and you’re gonna repeat it.”

Indrid nods, makes his way laboriously through the incantation in a gurgling language he does not know. The god patiently guides him along, cracks open the cage when the last word is spoken. 

“Do I get to know your name? If it was one of those words, it will take me some time to master it.”

The monsters’ cheeks rise, suggesting a smile, “You can call me Duck. It’s a nickname. C’mon” he holds out his hand, “let’s get you outta the rain.”

“One moment.” Indrid moves to the other gibbet, undoing the lock, “you can get free if you wish. If anyone asks how, tell them it was the witch.” With that, he settles in Duck’s cupped palms, the skin smooth and cool to the touch. 

“Down we go.” Duck sinks. 

“Wait, how will I bre-” water fills his mouth, but only for a moment. A clear bubble forms around him, let’s him gulp in air as Duck dives further into the sea. More jarring than the spell is the sight of the monster unfurling behind him. He assumed Duck had legs, but instead his lower body is that of a sea-serpent, green with bronze rings and undulating in the dark waves. 

“Like what you see?”

“Yes” he wonders what touching that tail is like.

“Yeah, this is a real beautiful part of the sea. If you want, some time I can take you further out; some spectacular lookin creatures out there. Here we go, home sweet home.” They surface at the base of a much shorter cliff, Indrid woozy from the change in depth. Three cottages--one red, one gold, and one blue-- stare back at them from a grassy hill. 

“Let’s see if I can do this” Duck sets Indrid on the ground, closes his eyes, and hums. The world shudders and splits, and then a fourth, emerald green cottage sits alongside the others. 

“Ha! Pretty damn good for a first effort.” His frill flickers with silver light.

“It’s wonderful.”

“All yours. You get yourself settled, I'm gonna go find out from the others what else needs doin’ now that I got an acolyte.” He lowers himself so the two of them are roughly face to face, “see you soon, Indrid.”

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

The cottage holds more possessions than Indrid’s ever had in his life, including a large feather bed that he stretches his aching body across before falling asleep and dreaming of seaweed twining up his legs. 

Voices from the window rouse him some hours later. At the side of the red cottage sit three other humans, two of whom are at work in a vegetable garden. Indrid ventures down to introduce himself. 

“Hi!” One, a woman with golden hair, waves to him, “you must be Indrid. I’m Dani, this is Barclay” she points to the bearded man harvesting potatoes, then to a tattooed man polishing a pile of gold and silver jewelry, “and that’s Boyd.” 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. You are all acolytes as well?” His stomach rumbles and Barclay pauses his digging to slide him a basket containing bread and cheese.

“Help yourself, those are leftover from lunch. And yeah, we are. Or were, in Dani’s case.”

Even with foresight, Indrid is surprised when the woman says jokingly, “Got promoted to ‘wife’ a few months.”

“Congratulations.” It seems the appropriate thing to say, given her smile, “ah, what exactly do you all do for your gods? Duck is rather unclear on the details.”

“Some of it is spellwork. Beings like Duck have some innate power, but they can get more of it from an acolyte doing rituals or making offerings. Joseph, that’s my monster, Duck, and a few others aren’t sold on the idea that they’re meant to destroy humans, so they spend a lot of time keeping other monsters from doing just that. Our spellwork gives them an edge. Other than that, it really depends on who you’re working for; I spent a lot of my first month helping Joseph understand that hauling himself up onto a random dock to ask questions is not the best way to learn about humans. Boyd spends a lot of time maintaining Ned’s treasure.”

“Only because he bloody tricked me into workin for him. Just bidin my time until the deal runs out. You hear that Chicane!” Boyd yells towards the water, “don’t care how much you steal, I’ll get my share and run one of these days.”

To Indrid’s ear, the sea laughs in reply. Boyd grumbles and returns to his work. 

“He’s just annoyed because he and Ned thought they could outwit each other; Boyd was on a prison ship bound for Jamaica and Ned offered him an out. Apparently they spent hours haggling over the terms.” Dani leans closer, whispers, “Boyds left twice, comes back every time saying he’s bored without someone to challenge him.”

They talk a while longer, Dani promising to bring Indrid some hens and a goat from town, Boyd giving him some firewood, and Barclay explaining the network of sea caves in the surrounding hills. When there’s a knock at the door, he opens it expecting another human and jumps when this is not the case. 

“Evenin’” Duck smiles as he slithers into the house, “brought you a few more things.”

“You got smaller.” 

“Can change my size some, though this is about as small as I can get.” He’s still two heads taller than Indrid, who notes that the ceilings are just high enough to accommodate him, as if the god built the cottage with visits in mind. 

Duck sets a bucket of fresh oysters in the kitchen along with a large slab of butter, some milk, and some sugar, “Had one of my human friends bring me these. And, uh, I made you this” he holds up a cloak in the same colors as his tail. It fits Indrid snugly, shutting out the chilly air and making him feel rather grand indeed. 

“C’mere” Duck pats a kitchen chair, “lemme take care of your neck.”

Indrid sits, shudders when webbing and claws rub sticky balm into his skin. The gods hands easily encircle his neck, a realization that stirs heat deep in his stomach. Duck talks as he works, a meandering story about a shipwreck, and Indrid finds he enjoys his manner of speech. The initial discomfort of the touches subside, the balm washing the pain in his neck away like a wave erasing a message in the sand. Cool hands wrapped around his throat turn as comforting as the fire crackling in the stove. 

“That looks like it healed. Good” Duck’s beak fondly nips his ear, “gotta make sure my servant is in good condition.”

“Mmmm” Indrid bumps his chest with his head, hoping for more; tomorrow he’ll ask the others if it’s commonplace for an acolyte to lounge in the coils of their gods lap like a housecat. 

The beak touches his ear once more, biting it lightly with little kissing sounds.

“Huh'' two tentacles catch Indrid as he tips sideways, his body deciding that the earlier nap was not enough rest, “didn’t think you’d find that soothin. Did it by accident, it’s how my kind show affection.”

“S’very nice” Indrid mumbles, dimly aware of being carried. 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Y’know, in case I need to reward you for somethin.” Duck lays him in bed, pulls a thick blanket over him, and bids him goodnight. Indrid is sound asleep before the door closes. 

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

“Ngahka miskato--ah! Give that back” Indrid wrenches his spectacles free from hold of a far too inquisitive octopus. The creature squirts him with water, then disappears back into its pool. 

Each of the gods has a sea cave in which their acolytes perform their rituals. Since the processes involves ancient, dark magic, all manner of strange sea life makes its way to the caves. Some, like the octopus or the seals that bob in the distance or flop on the rocks to nap, are known to him. Others might be classified as indescribable horrors from the deep, though Indrid thinks they look like crustaceans with a few too many limbs or the offspring of an eel and devil fish. 

His oath to Duck allows him to read the spells, and his pronunciation is improving. Duck’s requests center on defense; letting himself take greater damage from an enemy, be better able to protect his friends, that sort of thing. Indrid even found a ritual that gives the god new cloaking abilities, which he’s used to make the cottages disappear on the hillside and thus keep curious townsfolk away.  He also found one that allows Duck to remain out of water for well over a day.

The Duck who visits him in the cave and the one who stops by his home may be radically different sizes, but his disposition is constant. He talks about the kelp forests and the animals, about his annoyance with his supposed destiny as “destroyer of all man.” He conjures fine clothes from seaweed, furniture from driftwood, and brings Indrid newly made grins embedded with fresh pearls. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one serving you?” Indrid will tease.

“Way I see it, we serve each other. Don’t care what that fuckin oath said.”

Indrid is feeding his hens one evening when his luck catches up with him; his human friends are all standing at the edge of Dani’s house, peering anxiously around it’s corner and down the hill. Joining them, he sees a crowd marching with torches and an assortment of lethal farm equipment. 

“What the fuck are they doing? You were just in town today and everything was fine” Barclay glances at Dani, who shrugs, worried.

“My visions tell me that as they get closer we will hear them yelling about witches and that I will recognize many of them. I suspect my fellow gibbet-occupant told them about Duck.” He sighs, “I’ll try to lead them on a chase, get them away from all of you.” 

Indrid runs into the evening before the others, or his own common sense, can stop him. Keeping to the cliffside, he lets them glimpse his hair and his red glasses, both used at the trial as proof of his wicked nature. His plan is to take a secret tunnel down into the caves, but his visions alert him a moment too late to the fact there are two, not one, groups of villagers. He’s outflanked on the cliff, holds up his hands to show he means no harm.

“I understand my continued existence alarms and confuses you, but that is no reason to go running about with weapons. Would you kindly leave me alone?”

“No, witch, we will not.” The head of the party shouts over the wind. 

“I have a name, you know.” He grumbles, looking behind him and wondering if his status as an acolyte grants him immunity from death by falling in the water. 

“You have already confessed to your black work, and we have on good authority you have made a pact with the devil. There is nowhere to run, and if you come quietly I promise we will hang you properly this time.”

“And if I do not?”

“We shall see to it that your body is scattered about this cliffside before the night is out.” The mob moves forward and Indrid stumbles back, the earth giving out beneath his feet. 

He lands with a yelp in a smooth, large hand. As Duck rises more fully from the waves, the crowd freezes, struck dumb with fear. 

“Y’all ain’t gonna touch him, y’hear? Indrid’s under my protection and in case it ain’t obvious, I could smoosh the whole damn bunch of you without breakin a sweat. So, what you’re gonna do is turn around and go back to your village, and I’ll forget this ever happened. If you come after him again, I’m gonna start taking out ships in your harbor. We clear?”

The panicked flight of the mod downhill suggests he’s made his point. 

Duck carries Indrid home, joining him in the cottage once he can fit through the door. The monster follows him upstairs, pulling him into his arms.

“Thought I was gonna lose you.”

“That makes two of us.” 

Duck nuzzles the top of his head, “You mind if I stay here tonight? Little worried some of them might get it into their heads to come back and hurt you.”

No futures show this, but Indrid nods all the same. Duck curls up near the bed, not leaving until the morning sun shines through the window. He does the same the next night, and the night after that, and soon it’s been two weeks of the god talking softly with Indrid as the human falls asleep. 

When Indrid shyly asks if Duck will join him, his monster lays as comfortably as he can on the right side of the bed. Indrid is now used to waking up with a tail looped around his leg or a tentacle clinging to his arm. 

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

Indrid is just drifting off when the covers slide aside and weight slithers up the bed. He opens his eyes; Duck is on his side, facing him, annoyed. 

“What troubles you, my dark excellency?” Indrid nudges Ducks’ lower belly with his toes. He’s taken to calling Duck increasingly absurd things, and the monster calls him “faithful servant” or “esteemed attendant” in reply. 

Tonight, Duck just sighs, “Y’know how I was supposed to do somethin important tonight, bein’ that it’s the second full moon in the month? Turns out that somethin was, ‘spread my seed among the beds of men’ so our kind will gradually overrun the surface.” He clicks his beak with a snort, “don’t that sound fun?”

“No.”

“Smart little thing, ain’t you?” Duck teases, cups Indrid’s chin, “Yeah, I said no. Problem is, apparently a second full moon makes my whole body wanna fuck, which is why that prophecy was supposed to happen tonight.”

Indrid looks down, sees something rippling under the skin at the upper part of Duck’s tail. 

“I’m gonna try sleepin it off.”

His visions give him courage; Duck turns him down in most futures, but none of them end in death or bodily harm, which at his point in his life is all he asks. 

“Or you could, ah, allow me to help you.”

Green eyes blink, slow and calculating, “‘Drid, that ain’t part of your job.”

“No…” Indrid scoots across the sheets, tentatively runs his fingers up Duck’s side, “but that is not why I’m offering.”

“No?” The rest of his tail joins them on the bed, curving so it traps Indrid against him, “Then why are you offerin, sweet human of mine?”

“Because I, ah, I want, that is I would very much like to know you in that way, and I thought it was allowed based on the others, I apologize if it’s not, I did not mean to-” He freezes as Duck cups his face, nipping his ear and throat with a kissing noise.

“‘Drid?”

“Y-yes, my lord of the depths?” He’s breathless, drowning in Duck’s gaze. 

“Stop apologizin and take off your clothes.”

Indrid flails until nothing is between him and his monster. 

“Thats better” Duck’s voice deepens, washing over him like rough waves, “now, come serve your god.” He pats what Indrid thinks of as his waist, the point where his human qualities disappear entirely. 

“As you wish” Indrid tries for a coquettish smile as he straddles him, but it gives way to surprise as the slit in Ducks skin parts. 

“I was not expecting tentacles. Which, given the rest of you, was naive.”

“Not usin that future vision of yours to see what’s comin’?” The webbing of Duck’s fingers is like velvet as it caresses Indrid’s chest.

“It is difficult to focus on such things when you are here. You command my attention. You always have.”

Duck flicks his tongue across Indrid’s lower lip, “Now that kind of devotion I could get used to.”

“It is yours whenever you want it.”

A tentacle emerges from his side, petting Indrid’s face, “My Indrid. You been so good for me, so faithful and true. Letting me babble about seaweed and when my claws through that pretty hair. And you just keep gettin better.” 

“Please” Indrid rests his head against Duck’s chest, hugging him as best as his size will allow, “please teach me how to serve you this way too.”

“I can do that. You don’t gotta lift a finger.” Several of the tendrils that comprise his cock twine together to form a single appendage. The tentacle on his face gains a twin and the pair slide down to his ass, parting it.

Indrid’s thighs are uncooperative, struggle to get and keep him in the right position to sink down. He curses, reaches down to adjust only for a thicker tentacles to bind both wrists and yank them up above his head. 

“Uh uh, I said no finger-liftin and I meant it.”

Indrid moans, his cock filling as he discovers there’s no way to free himself. He expects Duck to guide him into place with his hands. The end of his tail encircles Indrid’s hips while his claws trace arcane shapes on his skin. 

“I, I did not know it was quite so dextrousOH, oh god.” The tip of that strange cock pushes in, pulsing little by little to stretch him open without pain. 

“Right here.” Duck nibbles his hair with that same kissing sound, “I got you. Take such good care of my faithful human.”

“Oh god” Indrid can’t come up with anything else to express the sensation of Duck sinking deeper into his body, of how safe he feels stretched out and stretched open in the monsters hold. He tips his head back with a cry as Duck bottoms out and his cock moves fluid and disjointed all at once. It’s pulsing, thrusting him full on each inward push, yet it’s individual tendrils curve and curl within him independent of the whole. 

“More, oh god, please, please never ever ever stop.”

 A fond chuckle, “That good huh? Maybe that prophecy was wrong. Maybe what I’m supposed to do is fuck you full and then drop you in town so you can spread the word of how good my dick is. Be my consort and prophet all in one. Get everyone clamorin for the chance for me to fuck them.”

“No” Indrid squirms, petulant, “you’re my master. Not theirs.”

A louder laugh this time, “You gonna take the amount of fuckin I was supposed to do to a whole town yourself?” A tendril curls around Indrid’s aching cock. 

“Yes” He wails, rolls his hips “you may have me as often as you please, I want you too, I’ll, I’ll be your faithful servant always.”

“You’re already somethin better; you’re my ‘Drid.” Duck twists the tendril and Indrid’s lost, his orgasm knocking breath from his chest and tears from his eyes as white spatters the green of Duck’s abdomen. 

“That’s it darlin, lookit you bein so good, cummin for your master. Think it’s time for you to make good on your promise to take whatever I give you.” The tail lifts Indrid up and down as Duck cums, the monster not so much as pausing before thrusting his hips harder, “fuuuck that’s good, my perfect servant, my ‘Drid, takin me so well.”

Indrid sobs as another burst of cum enters him and a strange feeling fills his chest; he’s buzzing with blindingly bright power. It’s coming from Duck, he knows this, and in the haze of his submissive state he understands the depth of his divinity.

“Duck” he whimpers as more tentacles twist around his limbs, the god losing himself in his pursuit of pleasure, filling Indrid until his belly twinges and his eyes fight to remain open. When the god groans out the humans name a final time, Indrid is so enveloped by him he wonders if they’ll ever fully disentangle. 

The monster carries him to the washroom, Indrid still squirming on his cock, and gently pulls him free to set him in the tub. A flick of his hand fills it with warm seawater.

“You okay?”

“I doubt I will be able to walk tomorrow.” Indrid smiles to show he relishes this fact.

“Guess I’ll be spendin tomorrow waitin on you.” Duck joins him in the tub, coiling protectively around him as he washes his chest and thighs.

“I thought I was the servant here?” Indrid cuddles closer, kissing Duck on the tip of his beak.

“Nah. Far as I’m concerned, we take care of each other.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #Indruck #monster march #reader requests #monster boyfriend #the author says "fuck HP Lovecraft

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

Enchanted By a Voice [Kyle x Olympia]

I finally, at long last, finished my last ockiss17 prompt! Took me long enough, sorry for the long wait, @nebularogue! 

So here we have for Day Six: Hesitant Kiss: my Kyle Shepard (again) and @nebularogue‘s Olympia King. I brainstormed some settings and decided to have this scene take place after ME1 and a little bit before ME2. I might one day to write a part 2 to this scene because Olympia is up to something but since this is from Kyle’s POV, he doesn’t know the inner workings of her mind. So hope I wrote her well, @nebularogue, and thank you for letting me use for this story. :)

While Kyle enjoyed a good drink every now and then, he was never fond of shady or sleazy bars that simply screamed out half their customers were criminals as well as the same message being extended to the owners and most of their staff. The more innocent or less nefarious employees were the ones that often got screwed over in terms of payment, benefits, and the types of customers they had to deal with. And as much as he wished to change their situation or uncover a way to bring the unsavory bars under more legal or fair ownership, he couldn’t save or help everyone. A fact his friends often had to remind him from time to time.

However, here he was, at another seedy club to find a thug who was extorting from a neighbor of his. While Ivy stayed with the Alliance as the first human Spectre after Sovereign's attack on  the Citadel, he, Izzy, and Ivan spilt up to work their own goals until Ivy would call upon them for support once more. Last he heard of Izzy she was in Omega with that mercenary named Nydo and Ivan was off doing God-knows-what. As for himself, Kyle travelled to Ilium and dedicated his skills set to help others. Ilium may be a luxurious, breathtaking place but there were often serpents lurking about in every nest of paradise.

One of these snakes was Billian Tulk, a batarian thug and loan shark who was known to prey on the desperate, the poor, and the needy. His rates were outrageous and his system was designed to eventually force his victims to concede and either offer up their services or someone else in their place for indentured servitude to work off the debt. It was Tulk’s way of receiving free labor for as long as he wanted. But compared to Kyle’s past experiences and meeting a Reaper, Tulk was small potatoes. Besides, he was use to dealing with low-lives like Billian Tulk.

As predicted, the said batarian was downing shots one right after the other, while making a pass at one of the bar’s singers and clearly failing. Unsurprisingly, he did not take ‘no’ for an answer. “C’mon, baby, is it the extra eyes?” he cajoled to the human singer, whose brown eyes flashed menacingly when he reached out to grab her.

“No, it’s because you’re a lout and won’t leave me and other girls alone when we tell you to!” She bent the batarian’s hand back, almost snapping his wrist if Tulk didn’t have the foresight to quickly draw his arm back in time, forcing the singer to releaser her grasp on him. “Excuse me, but I’m up next and I won’t let you make me late.” Tulk cut her a nasty glare and was about to try his luck one more time yet more aggressively when Kyle beheld the opportunity to step in and distract the thug.  

“Billian Tulk?” he voiced, making his presence known. “We have to talk.”

The said batarian whipped his head around, six four eyes boring murderously at him as he temporarily forgot about the human singer. “About what?” came the snarl.

“You know of a Miss Seveej? Received a loan from you and later paid you back, including interest. And yet, you claim she still missed a fourth of the payment?” There was no way Miss Seveej neglected to pay in full, she documented all her finances carefully and was known to be meticulous—if her small bonsai plants were any indications of her great attention to detail as well as patience.

The loan shark shrugged. “She made an error with her numbers so she still owes me 4000 credits. And that salarian is lucky I’m not ratcheting up the interest rate.” He gulped down another shot, continuing to keep a few eyes on him. Kyle then noticed the singer hadn’t let and was watching them both, curiosity etched on her fair, sharply structured features. “And what is all of this to you? The arrangement between me and Seveej is none of your damned business!”  

“First of all, Miss Seveej is my neighbor and a good friend of mine so when she became my client, your deal became my business too. Secondly, it’s common knowledge you’re involved in other illicit activities, which I am certain the Ilium authorities would love to hear about if they caught wind of your hidden behavior.” Tulk was a man of vices and besides alcohol, he was also fond of dealing with stolen property on the black marker and illegal gambling—mainly centering around two people duking it out on a fighting ring.

The lines in the batarian’s visage deepened as he scowled, a tic starting in his jaw. “Careful there, human. You’re treading on dangerous territory, threatening me like that. Who do you think you are, Commander Shepard?”

At the opening, Kyle had to grin amusingly. “Well, my last name is Shepard and I’m good terms with the Commander Shepard. Maybe I should have to stop by and see how everything is doing around in Ilium.” Out of the corner of his eye, the dark haired singer smirked, evidently pleased to watch Tulk be outplayed. She even shot a thumbs-up while mouthing ‘thank you’ to him. He smiled back in returned.

The enraged, crossed glower was immediately dropped and a more nervous, serious expression flashed on Tulk’s ridged visage, all four eyes a little bit wider than they previously were. “Wait, you actually know that Spectre? And you’re related to her too?”

Technically. He just so happened to share a last name with Ivy, Ivan, and Izzy but that was irrelevant at the moment. So Kyle continued to smile, unsettling the loan shark even more. He didn’t need to utter anything, the silence alone was enough to provoke Tulk to reconsider his offer. The batarian quickly rummaged for his datapad and once found, punched a few buttons before sliding the holographic pad over to Kyle for him to view.

“See, your friend Miss Seveej is off the hook now. Full payment to me, just like she claimed and you asked for.” Kyle would have been skeptical if he wasn’t witnessing the proof with his own two eyes and there was slight tremor in the thug’s voice when he spoke. Guess he didn’t have to go hard on the criminal after all.

“Good,” he replied, feigning indifference. “And if I hear you’re bothering Miss Seveej again, I’ll come back and next time, I won’t be so nice. Are we clear?” There was an edge in the last part, his dark eyes narrowing as a warning signal towards the rather anxious batarian.

“Crystal, as you humans say,” came the sullen reply. And without another world, Billian Tulk finished his remaining shot, paid his tab, and fled, not before shooting a lecherous fleer at the singer, who scowled in response.

“I’m so glad you chased him off,” she told Kyle promptly once Tulk was gone. “He has been an annoyance to me and all of the singers for about a week.”

“If he returns and continues to harass you or anyone else, let me know.” He handed her his business card and she took with an intrigued look, studying the glossy words imprinted on the front.

“Nice to see people doing good these days.” She ran her thumb over his card, brown eyes peering curiously up at him, as if searching for something. “So Kyle...Shepard, want to stay a little longer and watch my performance? I guaranty you haven’t heard a voice like mine.” The way she uttered his name seemed like there was a private jest between them but only she remembered it while he was in the dark. The corners of her lips tugging up into a playful, witty beam and despite his reservations, Kyle had to admit she had a lovely smile.

“Oh, you don’t have to do anything special and bes—”

She snapped her fingers at a server nearby and flagged him down. “Get this man a drink. It’s on the house. He scared Tulk shitless.” She then turned her attention back on Kyle. “What do you usually or prefer to drink?”

Rather reluctantly, Kyle sat down and answered. “Gin and tonic, please. Nothing too fancy.” The waiter departed briskly to fill out his order, rendering Kyle and the singer by themselves once more. “And I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name, Ms.—”

“Olympia.” She gifted him another smile, this one completely charming and purely arresting. He wondered why she was spending so much time with him, a virtual stranger who just so happened to shoo a thug and loan shark away? Surely simple goodness or kindness weren’t rare in Ilium, of all places. Or maybe he was reading too much into her behavior and getting him a drink was her way of saying ‘thank you’.

Once his drink arrived, Olympia excused herself to get ready for her shift, all the while telling him to enjoy the shower. After about ten or so minutes later, Oympia appeared on the stage, dressed in a stunning purple and white sequin dress with a matching flower tucked behind her ear.  While her arrival brought on countless of cheers, puckish hollars, and woohooing, all chatter and noise ceased instantly when Olympia began to sing and weave her melodious spell on them all. The song was peppy and sassy, matching her lively, upbeat, and straightforward voice and words, fitting the tone of the song oh so well. She didn’t portray herself as ‘the girl next door’, a sultry temptress, a rowdy, spunky rebel, or a force of nature who destroy you and everything you hold dear should you cross her—simply a young woman who wasn’t perfect nor pretending to be. He liked her style so much to his surprise, he ended staying until her warbling act was over and she had a break. Almost immediately, she made a beeline for him.

“I see you decided to stay longer. Was it just my singing?” Olympia bantered, sitting down across the table from. She flagged down a waitress, muttering her drink to them before returning her sparkling gaze at him. “If so, I’m flattered.”

“I’ll admit, I’m not one for music but I didn’t want to leave while you were still singing. I guess your voice entranced me.” Kyle chuckled, swirling the liquid around his glass prior to taking another sip. “It’s been a long time since I enjoyed music like that.”

“Now I am even more flattered.” When her drink arrived, she thanked the waitress and took a huge gulp of champagne, a gasp of relief escaping her as she swallowed and savored the alcohol. “Nothing wets a dry throat better that this club’s champagne. You should try it.”  

“Maybe next time. I already had two drinks of gin and tonic and that’s my limit for today. Besides, I have to head back to Miss Seveej and deliver her the good news in person.” Olympia’s face softened when he mentioned his client’s name, an appreciative gleam in her chocolate brown eyes.

“Of course,” she agreed, nodding, “don’t let me stop you. I’m sure she’ll be happy to learn she’s no longer under that slimebag Tulk’s thumb.” She went back to drinking her champagne as he asked the server from earlier for his check, receiving the bill on his omni-tool. He paid promptly and started to rise from his seat when Olympia swiftly got up to sit down next to him, holding her arm out and halting his actions. Without explaining right away, she simply plucked the white and violet flower from her hair and secured it into his front jacket pocket, tucking the stem of the blossom firmly inside. “A little token to remember me and this club by, in  case you want to return for some fun instead of business.” Flirtation rang coyly in her tone but her winsome, genuine smile was what struck him more and seized him fully. And before he could even reply, she leaned in, hesitating at first, and brushed her lips against his cheek, the kiss light and soft like butterfly’s wings.

When she pulled back, there was a different impression flicking her unwavering gaze, one Kyle couldn’t place but decided not to dwell on the notion right now. The kiss was unexpected, but not unwelcomed. He was more surprised than anything else. “Well, thank you, for the flower and er, the kiss too,” he managed out, feeling his face flush for no reason at all. Why couldn’t he been smoother and in control, like he usually was? He never blushed at a kiss since he was a teenager. “And no worries, I’ll be back. Wouldn’t want to miss any more of your singing.”

Her assertive, amiable, and charming self reappeared, immensely pleased by his words. “I sing on Mondays, Thursdays, and Fridays and usually in the evening and nights until closing. I hope to see your face this Thursday.” She sent him a little wink and picked up her champagne flute, departing to converse with the singer who was proceeding her prior to waving him farewell as she sauntered away.

Shaking his head in amusement, Kyle exited the bar to find a sky car top head home and deliver the wonderful news to his salarian neighbor. Whoever Olympia was, she was an intriguing woman and probably the only reason he would step foot into that seedy bar again. He wasn’t even aware how much he was stroking or fixing the flower in his jacket pocket during the ride home, marveling at its softness and beauty. There the blossom remained until he finished his business for the night, placing the striking, vibrant flower on his nightstand, its faint fragrance filling the air and evoking memories of his jaunty encounter with Olympia, a singer from a shady club that didn’t deserve her talents. Thursday would come along soon enough.    

#ockiss17 #Kyle Shepard #Olympia King #Kyle x Olympia #oc kiss week #oc kissing week #ockissingweek #OCs #nebularogue #Commander Shepard #Shepard #Mass Effect #I'm sorry I'm so late with this one