Ankyra Sound holla holla

i'm butting in because i DO WAT I WANT. instead of searching ‘tide pool organisms’ i mistakenly googled ‘tide pool orgasms’. spoiler: the results are not cocktail recipes

In no uncertain terms was the serf to leave the surf. Thems were the first rules. Lusca’s eyes smoldered holes at the forest line, black gums gathered into a miffed pucker the longer she stared. Tachyon was very apt at existing when such an existence was unbidden by her, and when it counted, he was scarce as hen’s teeth, likely to have found some fresh ass to jam his head up. Men: eternal bondsmen to their loins and weak against the gravitational pull of their hard-ons, the lot of them. 

Her limp had worsened, and her weight favored one side in such a way that every footslog sank her deeper into the sand as she poked along at a distance from Vlad. Never so much as suffer a headache without an escort. Thems were the second rules. She was totally gonna violate that one, but not until all four flippers were in fair shape. 

‘Phas, catch of the day. Vlad reeled her in, agallop and far too enthusiastic for Lusca’s preference. She hugged the outer perimeter of the waterfront, mindful to keep her paws away from the briny snatch of inbound waves as he yawped for the coywolf’s attention. "WHO BEING ENGRY OORCHIN WULF?" The Engry Oorchin Wulf visibly sagged and roamed over to the duo, fixing her gaze on the woman’s lithe toes. 

"Smol, bleck - ees seester of Bleckface?" Luc lobbed her gaze upwards with offense ablaze, primming up her mouth as he dared! asperse her pedigree! Rudey tooty aim and shooty. The very idea that she was of that scabrous, flea-infested, raggedy ass shrew’s ilk gave her some stirrings of a resurgent supper. Not that she’d had supper, because these slopsuckers gave her shit all, nutrition-wise. In truth, she had to fight off a rather unreasonably combative periwinkle snail for the privilege of licking the brackish water and algae off the back of a troglodyte chiton (conveniently, a great nickname for ‘Phas as well, in her unapologetic opinion) in the wee small hours the night previous. It had been a hardwon spread. A meal fit for, like, periwinkle snails and nobody else ever. 

”Wow. Ew.” She spluttered, her ears wilting sideways. She eyeballed Vlad unreservedly, pissy attitude staging a coup against her better senses. You know, the senses that reminded one that mum’s the word when it came to saying scurrilous things to the face of that one guy who peepee’d all over you that one time. I’m sure you’re familiar with the idea. ”Are you her breether, stinky? You bear a resemblance.” She said. Ugly squared. ”I mean. One of you eats crabs, and the other likely has the–” She cut herself off, clearing her throat and neatly sat herself before the kadaitcha–all pretty-like with her paws huddled together and her lineaments beaming up at Caiaphas in the smarmy manner of a cheshire cat. 

May The Lord and Savior Chthulu deliver a sleeper wave upon their doorstop and provide Lusca the sweet release of death.