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Darla, the ambush lover. They are dating now, much to Milo's surprise. They make a cute couple.
The river bend was quiet in the lazy, suspicious way swamps liked to pretend they were harmless.
Milo Willow stood at the edge of the water, staring at the crooked wooden sign planted near the shore. One hoof shifted in the grass. Then shifted back again.
He read the sign a third time, just to be sure.
WARNING: CHELOK BREEDING GROUNDS
Milo tilted his head.
“Breeding grounds,” he murmured to himself. “What does that mean?”
He tapped the edge of the sign with one finger, thoughtful. His ears twitched once. Twice. The river beside him looked calm, smooth, innocent in a way that made his stomach feel uncertain.
He probably should leave.
Yes. That was a good idea. Very sensible. Very safe.
He stayed exactly where he was.
Indecision settled over him like a familiar blanket. He leaned slightly closer to the water, peering at his reflection. Ripples moved lazily across the surface.
Something beneath the surface moved too.
He did not notice.
The water bulged upward.
Still, he did not notice.
Then the river exploded.
Water erupted into the air in a violent spray of reeds and mud as a massive green shape burst upward like a thrown spear. Milo shrieked, hands flying to his face as he stumbled backward, hooves slipping in the wet grass.
Seven feet of wet, armored Chelok launched from the river in a thunder of splashes and fury.
Yellow gold eyes locked onto him.
Darla Snapjaw landed in the shallows with a heavy splash, water rolling off her shell in streams. She stared at him with open intensity, head tilted slightly as if studying an unusual fish.
Milo froze.
His brain politely declined to function.
Darla squinted.
“…Huh,” she muttered.
Milo made a tiny sound that might have been an apology.
There was a long, strange silence. Frogs croaked somewhere nearby. Water dripped from Darla’s jaw onto the river surface below.
Then Darla inhaled deeply and shouted at full volume.
“DATE ME!”
Milo yelped, hands flying to his chest. “What”
He did not get to finish.
Darla surged forward in one unstoppable motion and scooped him clean off the ground like he weighed nothing at all. One arm hooked under his legs, the other braced his back. Suddenly he was airborne, hooves kicking uselessly at empty air.
“W wait wait wait,” Milo stammered, ears flat against his head. “Excuse me”
“Mine now,” Darla declared proudly.
She turned and waded back into the river without hesitation, water sloshing around her waist. Milo clung instinctively to her shoulder ridges, eyes wide with shock.
This was happening.
This was definitely happening.
Water soaked into his clothes as Darla carried him deeper into the shallows, moving with total confidence. Her grip was firm but careful, never crushing, never slipping.
Milo’s heart pounded against his ribs.
But after a few seconds, something strange happened.
He realized he was not scared.
Startled, yes. Extremely startled. Possibly humiliated. Very wet.
But not afraid.
Darla felt solid. Immovable. Like a wall that had decided it liked him enough to carry him somewhere safe.
She stopped once the water settled around her hips and shifted her grip slightly so he sat more comfortably against her shoulder. Her claws adjusted carefully to avoid digging into him.
“Didn’t run,” she said, sounding satisfied.
Milo blinked. “I didn’t have time to run.”
She nodded once, slow and approving. “Good.”
Another silence followed. Frogs croaked again. A bird screeched somewhere deeper in the swamp.
Milo swallowed.
“…Is this,” he began cautiously, “…how you ask people out”
Darla frowned, thinking hard. The effort showed in the way her brow ridges pressed downward.
“Worked,” she said finally.
Milo opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Considered the situation very carefully.
He was currently sitting in the arms of a massive swamp predator who had loudly declared romantic intent before abducting him into a river. He was soaked. Embarrassed. Confused beyond reason.
And somehow, against all logic, he was not opposed.
His ears twitched.
“…I guess it did,” he itted quietly.
Darla grinned, sharp teeth flashing in the afternoon light.
Satisfied, she shifted again, settling him more securely against her shoulder like a prized catch. Milo clung to her shell out of reflex as she turned toward shore once more.
Behind them, the warning sign leaned slightly in the mud, still unread and unhelpful.
Later, much later, Milo would bring this moment up every single time Darla pretended she did not .
“ when you kidnapped me,” he would say, usually while being pinned to the ground for warmth.
“You were unattended near water,” Darla would reply calmly.
“That is not a rule.”
“Is now.”
And every time he said it, Milo would flush bright with embarrassment while quietly, secretly feeling proud.
Because of all the creatures in the swamp, Darla Snapjaw had chosen him.
Art
technicolor_pie
The river bend was quiet in the lazy, suspicious way swamps liked to pretend they were harmless.
Milo Willow stood at the edge of the water, staring at the crooked wooden sign planted near the shore. One hoof shifted in the grass. Then shifted back again.
He read the sign a third time, just to be sure.
WARNING: CHELOK BREEDING GROUNDS
Milo tilted his head.
“Breeding grounds,” he murmured to himself. “What does that mean?”
He tapped the edge of the sign with one finger, thoughtful. His ears twitched once. Twice. The river beside him looked calm, smooth, innocent in a way that made his stomach feel uncertain.
He probably should leave.
Yes. That was a good idea. Very sensible. Very safe.
He stayed exactly where he was.
Indecision settled over him like a familiar blanket. He leaned slightly closer to the water, peering at his reflection. Ripples moved lazily across the surface.
Something beneath the surface moved too.
He did not notice.
The water bulged upward.
Still, he did not notice.
Then the river exploded.
Water erupted into the air in a violent spray of reeds and mud as a massive green shape burst upward like a thrown spear. Milo shrieked, hands flying to his face as he stumbled backward, hooves slipping in the wet grass.
Seven feet of wet, armored Chelok launched from the river in a thunder of splashes and fury.
Yellow gold eyes locked onto him.
Darla Snapjaw landed in the shallows with a heavy splash, water rolling off her shell in streams. She stared at him with open intensity, head tilted slightly as if studying an unusual fish.
Milo froze.
His brain politely declined to function.
Darla squinted.
“…Huh,” she muttered.
Milo made a tiny sound that might have been an apology.
There was a long, strange silence. Frogs croaked somewhere nearby. Water dripped from Darla’s jaw onto the river surface below.
Then Darla inhaled deeply and shouted at full volume.
“DATE ME!”
Milo yelped, hands flying to his chest. “What”
He did not get to finish.
Darla surged forward in one unstoppable motion and scooped him clean off the ground like he weighed nothing at all. One arm hooked under his legs, the other braced his back. Suddenly he was airborne, hooves kicking uselessly at empty air.
“W wait wait wait,” Milo stammered, ears flat against his head. “Excuse me”
“Mine now,” Darla declared proudly.
She turned and waded back into the river without hesitation, water sloshing around her waist. Milo clung instinctively to her shoulder ridges, eyes wide with shock.
This was happening.
This was definitely happening.
Water soaked into his clothes as Darla carried him deeper into the shallows, moving with total confidence. Her grip was firm but careful, never crushing, never slipping.
Milo’s heart pounded against his ribs.
But after a few seconds, something strange happened.
He realized he was not scared.
Startled, yes. Extremely startled. Possibly humiliated. Very wet.
But not afraid.
Darla felt solid. Immovable. Like a wall that had decided it liked him enough to carry him somewhere safe.
She stopped once the water settled around her hips and shifted her grip slightly so he sat more comfortably against her shoulder. Her claws adjusted carefully to avoid digging into him.
“Didn’t run,” she said, sounding satisfied.
Milo blinked. “I didn’t have time to run.”
She nodded once, slow and approving. “Good.”
Another silence followed. Frogs croaked again. A bird screeched somewhere deeper in the swamp.
Milo swallowed.
“…Is this,” he began cautiously, “…how you ask people out”
Darla frowned, thinking hard. The effort showed in the way her brow ridges pressed downward.
“Worked,” she said finally.
Milo opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Considered the situation very carefully.
He was currently sitting in the arms of a massive swamp predator who had loudly declared romantic intent before abducting him into a river. He was soaked. Embarrassed. Confused beyond reason.
And somehow, against all logic, he was not opposed.
His ears twitched.
“…I guess it did,” he itted quietly.
Darla grinned, sharp teeth flashing in the afternoon light.
Satisfied, she shifted again, settling him more securely against her shoulder like a prized catch. Milo clung to her shell out of reflex as she turned toward shore once more.
Behind them, the warning sign leaned slightly in the mud, still unread and unhelpful.
Later, much later, Milo would bring this moment up every single time Darla pretended she did not .
“ when you kidnapped me,” he would say, usually while being pinned to the ground for warmth.
“You were unattended near water,” Darla would reply calmly.
“That is not a rule.”
“Is now.”
And every time he said it, Milo would flush bright with embarrassment while quietly, secretly feeling proud.
Because of all the creatures in the swamp, Darla Snapjaw had chosen him.
Art
technicolor_pie
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megafighter_x
~megafighterx
dawww
e_voyager
~evoyager
I wonder if she considers that sign fair warning
Glyph Cipher
~sobana
OP
I didn't even think about it, but that would fit her character.
