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thesharktanksdriver · 11 months

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Salt Water Tears

Made this awhile back. I’m not sure it’s it’s good or not but decide to post it anyways cause it’s taking space up in my notes

Poseidon might be out of character but screw it

Warning for abuse, misogyny and murder

Love and hatred are powerful emotions that both the gods and humans alike

It is something that both experience to such a gripping degree

It can lead to both good and bad

Hate can lead to war but also change

And love can lead to something beautiful and can tear down even the mightiest of empires

It’s intriguing how both emotions despite being opposites can intertwine together like a coil

It’s especially to Aphrodite as the blond goddess spies on others love lives for fun

It’s fun to her as she sees as love can either consume and destroy someone from the inside out

Progressing slowly into that coil

Normally she watches over human stories for the gods don’t have much going except for affairs and the once beautiful feeling dying

But there is one tale of love and hate that has always stood out to her

Whether that be for its tragedy of an ending or beautiful start she personally isn’t sure

But whenever it came to the god Poseidon it was sure to be something interesting

And the tragedy of the only person he loved is certainly an example of that

You were born to a small village to a peasant family

In the grand scheme of the world you weren’t special

You didn’t have power or status but you did have one thing many people lacked

Respect for others and nature

Yeah, doesn’t sound like much but in your village where brutes ran wild without so much as a ounce of intelligence or care for anything around them it was a lot

It’s why you always lingered near the beachside where no one would visit

It was the only respite from your family who was already pressuring you to be married off

A fate you wished to evade as long as you could as to keep your freedom

Your mother was a constant reminder of what you feared

A worn down woman, one who felt no love for herself and abided by your hateful father

A man who didn’t know any love for anything but his own pride and image to the other men in the community

To be completely honest it sucked

You wished to have a different fate, to be able to explore the vast open sea like that of legends

Or travel to distant lands you’d heard whispers of

Not being confined to a home and used as an object to satisfy someone else’s desires

So there on that beach you let fantasy reign over your mind

Staring out towards the deep blue ocean with longing

Letting the salty air tussle your hair

Sea foam staining your dress

Picking up shells and feathers from the birds that you feed scraps of food to along with the colourful fish

Picking out the trash that somehow ended up in the water

Saving a few fish in the process

It’s odd but you feel as if the things that most consider just to be food to be your friends

Listening instead of telling you to shut up, that a woman should remain silent and submissive

You envy the fish

It’s yet another day of heading to the beach when you find someone there

Standing amongst the waves is a man

Blond hair that reminds you of the golden sand

Blue eyes that looks like the depths of the sea

He looks at you

You stare back

It’s kinda awkward for a bit as the crashing waves fill in for the silence between the two of you

You take a step backwards and you see him move as well

“I can leave if you’d like? I don’t want to bother”

“Your the one cleaning the beach. Why human?”

At him saying that you can’t help but feel a sense of confusion wags over you but you brush it off

Opting to instead just answer him

“It’s wrong how they treat the earth. it’s the least I can do considering I can’t change them”

He stays silent at that answer just watching you

Trying to see if your lying

But there is only truth, a guilty truth for it being the only thing you can do in this situation

He grunts and walks straight into the ocean

Beneath the sapphire waves as your left dumbfounded at what you just saw

Until realizing that he was likely a god

Specifically Poseidon

What the-

You return to the beach a few days later and find it empty as usual

Despite that you feel a presence occasionally watching you

Not threatening so to say but there

Watching with curiosity as you fish out glass bottles and old bits of torn cloth

It’s not much but you do your part

Along the way you pick up shells and string together small bracelets for yourself

All the while that feeling continues

And this becomes slightly normal until he appears again

This time though he approaches and your left cautiously letting him get closer

He stays a few feet away but it’s significant compared to the last time you met him

Let alone now knowing he’s likely a god or some other type of higher being

Now, you weren’t overly religious compared to a few others in the village that had pledged themself to worshiping the pantheon

But now having him in front of you is kinda having you question if you should go to a temple and pray

“I’m curious of you. Indulge me in this”

Your eyes widen a bit but you nod, soon finding yourself wrapped in conversation with the blond man

Talking with Poseidon is a bit of a challenge at the beginning

He is the epitome of a perfectionist, and rather cold to the point that you don’t know if something is pissing him off

Viewing himself as a perfect being despite how he had some glaring issues

Mainly being his arrogance and pride

But you suppose that’s how anyone would end up with such unimaginable power

But after many days of trial and error you find common ground with him

Mainly on topics such as the ocean and his family

It’s odd hearing myths you grew up hearing come from the perspective of someone actually there

Yet interesting nonetheless especially as you tell him the version you had heard through the grapevine

He seems to find some amusement in hearing the slightly skewered version of events from the humans perspective

Often times adding some snide remark about it that makes you laugh

The way in which you casually roll off the insults to both yourself and your entire race seems to catch his attention

He might’ve been confused, or maybe even angry to an extent but he didn’t bring it up

Especially as you asked of how the ocean worked

Its world and freedom that came with it

You can’t help but try to imagine the pictures he paints of the kingdom he rules

Colourful collections of underwater flora of sorts called coral

Or the deepest reaches of his domain where Apollo’s light can’t penetrate

At some point though it shifts from exclusively asking him things to him inquiring about you and your life

Why you kept coming here in the first place let alone felt obligated to try and keep the waters clean

Especially when in his eyes humans were all greedy and selfish

Nothing but bottom feeding scum

With all that reason it shouldn’t make sense as to why he’s so curious but you don’t comment on it and tell him the answer

From the moment you were born you were created for one purpose alone

Marriage

Before you could even open your eyes your father could see the money he could make off of selling you

Your mother couldn’t care less after being worn down over time

She could barely care for anything anyways when she was focused on pleasing him

Couldn’t even take care of you when you had gotten to the age of being able to walk and make conscious decisions

Leaving you to your lonesome in a place that would eat you up in not time

So with that you focused on survival

Ending up scavenging the forest for extra food to fill your empty stomach

Learning to see nature’s beauty in the process

Finding the beach that you’d come to see as an escape

A real home compared to that empty house full of nothing but violence and the possibility of getting screamed out

Growing up into a beautiful young woman didn’t help in all this

Getting the leering eyes from men twice your age within town

Your father’s greed growing as he realized he could capitalize off this even more

You can feel your freedom slipping away by the days now

Sand through your fingers into the inevitable fate of a loveless marriage to a pig of a man

One who would break you to his own satisfaction

Wanting to see the fire in your eyes be smothered by his own hands

With all that Poseidon asks something afterwards that makes you smile

“I insult you and your face, why aren’t you mad”

“I don’t mind when most of what you say is tinged with some sort of truth. Especially since your the only one who treats me as something other than an object”

During his visits after this he changes a bit

He sits closer to you on the sand

What used to be a few feet separating the two of you now becomes that of a foot

You don’t comment on it out of respect

Especially since the conversations between the two of you become longer

A few times you barely got back home in time to avoid a verbal battle with your father

You couldn’t come to care about that though

Especially as the conversations become more deep

Actual emotion leaking through the cracks and allowing you to see something in him that you hadn’t seen before

Even a few times giving you the honour of seeing a small smile

It makes something in you flutter at that

You bury those feelings though, it was absurd to think of him that way

A god

When your you

So you continue on without addressing it

It doesn’t help that he’s started gifting you stuff as well

Starting off as some pretty shells you craft into jewelry

To strings of pearls he says he wanted to get rid of

It sends mixed messages in your head

Especially since he continues his hating human talk

(Though he notably stops making comments about you)

And it stays that way

A limbo you found yourself pondering about until one night it all changed

The moon hung high up in the dark blue sky as you sit beside the sea god watching waves crash endlessly onto the shore

Foam coming up to gently nip at your toes, something that makes a small smile come to your face

The stars shined within the endless sea that was the sky held up by atlas

Yet another tale the tyrant of the sea had told you of during these taken

As of the moment he weaves pearls into your hair

He’s insistent to do so despite you telling him that it wasn’t necessary

But he is not one who listens often and this is a case of this

“Marry me”

“Huh?!”

Yeah so he just blurts that out

You certainly didn’t expect it, though anything from him is

“Did you not hear what I said? Marry me”

“I understand what you said I’m just confused”

“How could you be confused about what I said? It’s quite simple even for a simple human brain”

You deadpan a bit at that but quickly refute with “I’m confused cause I’m human and your asking that. You know I’m not a god”

“It’s not much of a problem”

“But I’m not-“

“I can make you one”

You go silent at that, watching as his eyes stare down into your own

Emotions bleeding out of those deep blue abyss’s

“Won’t your family be upset?”

“I don’t care”

“B-“

“I said I don’t care. If anything they’d be more confused than anything that I’ve found someone”

“I…” you pause for a moment

You love him, you know you do but your still afraid of being confined away

Loosing your freedom to a person you loved would be worse than that of a stranger

“Would I be able to travel. To see the world even if we are together”

He scoffs

“Of course you can. I’d give you the world if I could”

Whatever hesitation you had melts away

He sees this and holds his hand out

You take it

“Meet me here tomorrow. I will take you away from this place”

You nod, tears lining your eyes as a smile lights up your face

Going home you feel joy for once

Hopeful

Bbbb

When you go home that night your met with your father glaring you down

Before you can even walk through the door he’s yelling profanities

Accusing you of being a whore

That your a disappointment

As usual

Your mother is in the corner, staring yet not intervening even as he grows more angry

More violent to the point your getting legitimately scared

You may be a grown woman but you know he’s stronger

Your entire childhood is an example of that

Words are thrown between the two of you

A haze of anger blinding you as it did him

And then it happens

At first you can’t comprehend what had happened

Your mother screamed and look terrified

And then a pain entered your gut

You look down to see red staining your chiton

Staring back you see your fathers expression

He even seemed surprised by his action

Yet he holds up the blade again

Intent clear as to finish the job, it was too late to turn around now

You run

Bolting out the house and into the darkened streets

Through the old beaten path of the woods

Down into the sandy beaches you found to be a real home

But in that panicked state you found yourself in you end up tripping into the sand

Just by the waters edge as he catches up

The look in his eyes shines with intent

It’s almost immediate that Poseidon feels that something is wrong

There’s something that goes down his spine, a feeling of dread he’d never felt before

And somehow he knows it’s about you

In an instant he’s back at that beach, a place that was just for you and him

Now sullied by the sight of a man holding your form beneath the waters surface

He forgets to breath for a moment before that man is dead

Blood staining the sand as he kicks his disgusting form away

Your dead already

No breath filling your lungs except for the salt water he held domain over

There is no saving you

And that breaks something in him

Gently he takes your body into his arms, water absorbed into your clothes along with sand clinging to you

Those pearls in your hair are still there, glimmering in the moonlight as he holds you close

He destroyed the village

A large sudden wave completely decimating the inhabitants before they could even wake

He held no sympathy

How could he when they had only wronged you your entire life

Perhaps that’s why he hates humans so much

Because in the end they are selfish creatures that drain the light out of anything good

They lie

Cheat

And manipulate just to kill whatever spot of light is left in the abyss of shit they call a world There is no one left to tell the tale of that village

nor any landmarks left to signify it was ever even there

It’s name is only left on ancient maps, most of which are destroyed by time or by his own hand

It’s a petty act but one that is the only satisfaction he can get anymore

He sits alone in his throne room, the other throne long made for you is stashed away

Kept for his eyes alone that oftentimes can’t linger on it for more than a few seconds

He only allows himself to break on those lone nights when the crushing weight of it all come down on him once more

He hates that he cries, a perfect being such as himself shouldn’t do so

Yet you make him do it

A feeble human who had captured his cold heart

Only for it to be destroyed once you are taken

He never talks of your real name, only ever referring to you as “Amphitrite”

No one deserves to utter your name

Not even himself after he failed you

But Aphrodite knows

As does Hades who mourns his brother’s loss

Love and hatred coil around one another

Whatever respect he had for humanity forever died that day, leading him in a downward spiral of hatred

It’s amazing what love can do, isn’t it?

#records of ragnarok x reader #ror Poseidon x reader #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader

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mimiriko · 11 months

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I need more merman geto in my life

part one

Your heart hasn’t stopped weighing down on your chest ever since you managed to gather your jelly legs together and run back home from the ocean. It’s an emotion hard to describe, plenty to feel.

Restlessness, dizziness. A hole gnawing itself bigger as days go by.

In daylight, you don’t escape him. Not when the biting smell of sea salt still lingers in each breath you take, filling your lungs with an acid hard to neutralise. The books you once bubbled with excitement to read now seem bleak in your hands as you stand motionless in an aisle of your library. A frequent place you visit. With its mahogany hardwood floors and a slew of soft fairy lights hung all over. A contrast you welcome from the waters plaguing your mind.

But maybe you don’t know it well enough. Otherwise you wouldn’t have felt surprised at a wide section of books in the fifth aisle full of sea life and its wonders. It felt like mockery, faith taking pity on your frazzled form. Your nimble fingers clasp around the binding, flipping through pages as strands of smooth dark hair dance over the surface of your memory.

At night, submerged in dreams where you are supposed to be the one with the handle, he takes control. You see him in his blue domicile, swimming in all his glory—elegant with the strokes of his tail and powerful with the force of them. Bulldozing through waves like a whetted blade on skin.

You dream about him through third person, looking into his hypothetical life behind a stained glass window. Sometimes you’re even right next to him, with your tails intertwined like two capillaries ready to join into a vein.

You wonder what your tail would look like. You remember his to be blue and purple.

The veil of fear you forged around yourself lasted one whole December, before you decided for the new year, you would return.

The snarl of winter keeps all life away from your home. Polarised, just the way you like it. Frosty sand prickles your feet and you stretch your toes in response. Each layer of clothing you strip off makes your blood wail, bones rattle.

You take a step into the wet sand, when all you have on is safety shorts and a tank top, and relish the way it sinks slightly with your weight. Fizzing sea foam clings to your ankles in a greeting, and the water changes its shape around you as you walk deeper.

It was always supposed to be like this, you think.

——————

He senses you before he sees you.

Your scent is different from the rest of humans. It lays thick on his tongue, overpowering with familiarity. It finds him every time, through valleys and bundles of waves, like a lost child in search of its home.

To the rest of his clan, it’s just another breath in their gills. To him, it’s a calling.

And he always picks up.

His heart beats like a rabbit as the space between the two of you slims; a gulf that narrows into a pond, but this time he halts at a place much farther than he’s used to.

That’s because it is you who is swimming much ahead of your usual distance.

Strange, flowy material hugs your figure, rippling like river water against the soil bed. Your movements are small but filled with purpose, and a warm burst of light explodes in his chest as his eyes catch your face above the surface, splashes of water hitting your chin in a way that oddly endears him.

He flicks his tail, suddenly skittish when you stop.

A chorus of voices in his head sing closer closer closer. Until the soles of your feet are near, and he leans forwards to face them. You remain calm, unaware—in search of the silhouette that haunts you.

Geto quietly breaks the water, and your shock almost sends you reeling.

———————

There’s an unearthly beauty to him. Angular features, slender nose and salmon lips. Milky skin with soft cheeks you crave to cup. The path down his neck and shoulders are delicately moulded and held by string, the rest dissolving into a smudge underwater, dim twinkles of his marble scales catching your vision.

“I didn’t expect to find you so quickly,” you rasp, voice rough from disuse of the day.

“Couldn’t let my human shiver in the water for too long, can I?”

My human.

Maybe you were in his thoughts just as much as he had been in yours.

“..No,” you softly say, “I guess not.”

“You have a habit of coming when the God’s above are peeved,” he says with mirth, intently watching you tilt your head.

“The Gods abov… you mean the weather?”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “The Gods' control the change of the atmosphere, so yes, the weather.”

You blink. “I see. Do you not feel the cold?”

“Sometimes,” he admits, “We have alcoves for shelter. Mainly for children.”

He hesitates before adding: “Would you like to see?”

#i’m so sorry i’m MONTHS late to this ask 😭#yes i did a cliffhanger it’s a silly vibe tofay #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x you #☆.suguru #🐇#🎧

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outpost51 · 4 months

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ROY G BIV tag

tagged by @void-botanist over here, ty ilysm bb <3

Rules: Search your your writing for the colours of the rainbow and post the excerpt.

low/no pressure tagging: @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @teamdilf @omniblades-and-stars @lag-train @commander-krios @vacantgodling

shoving the rest below a cut for dash courtesy, also violence

RED

from Stellar Parallax, Chapter 2: Red Fish, Blue Fish

You could die, you fool! “Better dead than whatever the fuck you want me to be,” Jane rasped. It screamed with a thousand voices. Her ears felt wet. Metallic salt seeped into her mouth. She was on the ground. Pieces of the beacon rained down around her. Rain poured into her mouth and nose, washing blood into her sinuses and making her choke until she retched. Faces blurred in and out of view, vaguely familiar ones and one she remembered for sure, stark white against the blood red sky. It looked wrong, though, and it took until ship engines howled overhead and unconsciousness had nearly taken her away to figure out why. Fear didn’t look right on the bogeyman.

ORANGE

from Stellar Parallax, Chapter 9: Unshackled

Jane had been hospitalized for two weeks following the Skyllian Shitshow — less for the gunshot wound and more for ‘being a danger to herself and others’. The food had been unremarkable at best; allegedly, psych ward ate better than regular hospital patients for morale reasons, and all she could think at the time was how much it would suck to be bedridden and eat worse food than the shit they shoved at her through the door hatch. The worst had been tomato bisque, viscous and orange and somehow tasting of nothing but black pepper and whatever pills they’d ground up and mixed in.

YELLOW

from Stellar Parallax, Chapter 7: H(a)unt

Nihlus stepped between Jane and the stairs, but before she could chew him out for blocking her shot, his body rippled, organic flesh burning to ash and floating away. The thing that looked back at her had too many eyes and too-sharp teeth and the tree beneath the endless glass ocean shattered the surface with spires. The spires stretched up, up, up to the ceiling, like children begging for a parent’s love. But the great black ships were just things made of metal and wires and hate. They weren’t capable of love. Some monstrous creature painted up with white and blue kissed her brow with the muzzle of a Vindicator. Its fingers looked like the spires still growing towards the stars, and its mouth was peeled back in a permanent grin. Jane’s lip curled up to match. She would show these things she had teeth, too. That hers weren’t an empty threat. That she had used them before and would use them again. Behind the shadowy figures presiding over her trial for crimes against the Old Machines, a yellow-striped geth uncloaked. Its big yellow eye stayed trained on her Firestorm like it was the biggest threat in the room. She’d just killed a man with a plastic fork. She didn’t need a gun to be dangerous.

GREEN

from Stellar Parallax, Chapter 4: Unfortunate Things

Jane didn’t have clothes of her own since they had to evacuate so quickly, so he’d gladly given up one of his PT shirts and a pair of sleep shorts once Williams and Dr. Chakwas got her cracked out of her armor. She practically drowned in them, but they did the job, even if they made her look so incredibly small. She’d always been on the shorter end, and all the muscle she put on over the years still didn’t bulk out her scrawny frame much more, but she was so… larger than life, it was easy to forget how physically unimposing she looked out of armor and not armed to the teeth. And with teeth, too. Unfortunate things happen in battle, John. Ruthless. That’s what they’d called her after Torfan. If he believed nothing else, he knew that descriptor was true, especially after their final test in N-school. Especially after she’d gunned down a retreating man. Her eyes had looked so hollow afterwards; he’d expected anger, something hot and hissing, coiled up like a viper ready to strike, but there was no life in that deep green lake. That looked personal, Commander. It was. He couldn’t reconcile that person with the small, fragile thing lying so concerningly still under so many blankets – they’d had a hard time getting her body temperature stable, Dr. Chakwas said. They had to sedate her, too, and it had taken Nihlus to restrain her long enough to get the IV catheter in. What had that thing done to her?

BLUE

from Stellar Parallax, Chapter 12: Dig (unpublished)

The seagrass had been lost to the river for a long time, but the river couldn’t take that memory from her, of a scrawny boy with minnow-grey plates and eyes like tidepools. “Really?” Garrus drawled. “I give you the last of my lunch, and this is the thanks I— ack!” Jane shook the tingle from her knuckles and pushed off his keel, then offered him the same hand. “Stabbed a salarian with your fork, too,” she snorted. “So that’s two I owe you. You look good.” Her mouth curled up. “Even without the tinfoil hat.” Garrus rubbed the sore spot from his throat as he stood. “Think I liked you in the hospital gown better,” he groused. A blue flush had already darkened his throat. “You’re still a bad liar, Garrus Vakarian.” Jane socked his bicep and turned back to their shore party.

INDIGO

from Blinding Neon, Shades of Grey, Chapter 1: Hello World

It’s dark when she enters, save for a floor lamp in the corner. One of the show droids, the rabbit, lurks beside the chair that’s turned away from her, a hulking indigo mass that looks far fucking bigger than it does on stage. Someone has traded its stage look for a far more muted suit, finely tailored pinstripes emphasizing every inhuman bend and curve and making it appear taller, endless, looming.

VIOLET

i know i used pink shhhshhh from The Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself, Chapter 6: Playing With Fire

Taking another breath, Dillon pushed all thoughts of Zadimus being an asshole out of her mind. He was right, not that she’d admit it out loud. The line of energy glowed a dull violet as it stretched on and on, deep underground, as far as she could sense. She flexed her fingers towards her feet, then closed them, trying to feel the hum solidifying in her hands as she guided it upward. The less she strained, the easier it got to pull, and the higher it rose, the stronger the buzz became until finally she felt it right beneath her feet, tingling her arches where she balanced on it like a tightrope.

#sneeps.txt #stellar parallax #blinding neon #unlikely adventures

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jungle-angel · 1 year

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A Selkie in the Sunshine State: Part 1 (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: When you were young, you had heard tales of the seal people. Many thought you were completely crazy, until you met one for yourself. You just didn’t know how much it would change your life for the better.

Tagging: @lt-bradshaw I know I’ve gotta do a taglist but I’m completely inept with technology and with this hellsite in general (lol).

Key West, Florida

You stepped out into the bright Florida sunshine, feeling so much more at ease now that you had all the time in the world to yourself. Sunshine, sunscreen and sandals....you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Moving to Key West had been the best decision you had ever made, getting away from the cold winters in your hometown and far, far away from the things that bothered you day in and day out. Your health drastically improved with the tropical sunshine, your eating habits had gotten better and you could walk to and from work with no problem. Hell, you were finally able to wear all those pretty clothes you loved that would have normally had to be packed away during the winter.....but here, you could finally be yourself. Your wonderful, free, self.

Down to the white, powdery sand beach you went from your little cottage, the turquoise and peach pink shuttered little structure facing part of the street with its little white picket fence and porch while the back faced the ocean. The turquoise and teal water gently pulled in and out off the beach, the smell of salt and sunshine tied together in the breeze. Today was sure to be perfect. You had a feeling that you just knew that everything about today would be perfect.

All along the shores you went, gathering shells and sand dollars, the water washing over your feet as you stepped over a small pile of seaweed. Your eyes suddenly fell to a yellow-green piece of something in the washed up weeds, something plastic with thin threads that formed a diamond lattice.....part of a ripped up drag-net.

It wasn’t uncommon that you found something like that. Every now and again, you clipped up those pieces along with empty soda can rings to make sure no sea critters became their unfortunate victims. Yet something else caught your attention from further down the beach, something that sounded like crying.

You rushed to the commotion, following the noise until it grew louder and louder when you suddenly laid eyes on what was making the noise.

“Oh buddy, I’m so sorry, c’mere, you’re ok.”

It was a little grey monk seal with thready little rings of white around its eyes. The poor little thing bawled and cried, tangled in the drag-net that had washed it up on shore, the seaweed hanging from it like clumps of dark green hair. You clipped away at the tough, plasticky threads with the Swiss army knife you kept in your pocket, trying painfully hard not to hurt the little guy who squirmed and wriggled.

“Ok, ok, you’re almost out,” you cooed to the seal.

No sooner did you cut the last plastic thread that something frightening and strange unfolded right before your very eyes. The seal’s skin seemed to drop away like wet cloth as flashes of a pale, human form were revealed. The seal skin hung from one shoulder, a wet, bedraggled mess as the figure kept his hands planted in the dirt, coughing and spitting up water. Your breath stilled as you reached out your hand to touch his well-muscled back, your movement slow and tentative, fearing that when he turned around, he’d instead be some hoary, razor-toothed horror of the deep.

Your hand had barely touched him when he let out a loud gasp, both of you startled by it all. You instinctively clamped a hand over your mouth, in complete disbelief at the man who faced you. He wasn’t some terrifying humanoid from the darkest depths of the ocean. His eyes were of the deepest cerulean blue, the features in his face soft and shy looking. His chin and pencil thin lips wobbled a little, from what, you had no idea. His hair was a soft, dark blonde that grew lighter in the midday sunshine while perched on his nose was a pair of wire-rimmed aviator glasses......birth control goggles as the airmen from Pensacola would call them.

“I.....you.....what are you?” you stammered.

“Miss please I.....I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just.....”

You were still tentative to even speak as the grey seal skin fell from his shoulder. The only noise you could remotely hear was the gentle slapping of water. “No, I should be the one who’s sorry,” you told him. “I didn’t....I didn’t know.”

The young man cleared his throat, the sunlight making his unusually pale skin a near blinding white. “I um....I would stand up but.....”

“You have a cut somewhere?” you asked.

“No it’s.....it’s a little more complicated than that Miss uh.....”

“(Y/n),” you answered. “My name is (Y/n). You?”

“Bob,” he answered.

“Bob?” you said, chuckling a little. “I’ve never heard of a selkie named Bob before.”

Bob’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening like a guppy gasping for air. “How do you....?”

“I read alot,” you admitted. “C’mere, I’ll help you up.”

“Oh (y/n), please, I don’t think you want to do that,” he said, turning bright red.

“And why not?”

“I’m.....I’m naked.”

You blushed a little too, a snicker escaping your nostrils. It wouldn’t have been the first time you saw a man naked nor would it be the last time. You took his hands in yours, instantly aware of a strange, warm sensation rippling through you. Not a bad one, but something warm and comforting.....just like home.

“How about this,” you said, biting your lip and trying not to cast your eyes downward. “I have plenty of clothes back at the house. You can borrow them until we can get you some new ones.”

“Thank you,” Bob chuckled.

He picked up his seal skin, shaking the sand off its damp surface before he wrapped part of it around his waist and followed you back up to the cottage.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #dagger squad #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader

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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 11 months

Note

I'm a little late for mermay, can you do mermaid or pirate Nordics falling in love with an Octomer darling that they've seen occasionally above water ( the darling prefers not to be seen around the surface to much, they prefer to be in deep waters. ). You can decide if you want them yandere or not.

Happy Mermay to one and all. Let the warm ocean waves carry you away to the lagoons full of colors and fun.

It’s never too late!! As I write this almost a year later… I also mixed the ideas of pirates and mermaids around. Same with Yandere and non, I hope you don’t mind.

The smell of salt and subtle sulfur accompanied the ocean’s crashing waves like the scent of fresh popcorn at a busy theater. The grey stones were warm and smooth as (Y/N) basked upon them.

Stretching and curling her inky tentacles, she shifted more fully onto the tiny, sea stack. Cozy in nature’s embrace, the great Cecelia of the North Sea allowed her eyes to flutter shut to the sea’s lullaby.

Blissfully unaware of the eyes.

Eyes that were full of a painful longing that burned like the dying remains of an oil fire on a starless ocean night. Maybe… He thought they could be together. Maybe, their worlds could be one.

Yandere

Denmark: The cacophony of loud howls and jeers shocked (Y/N) awake. Scrambling with contracting leucophores turning her body whiter than seafoam to escape the quickly approaching wooden whaler.

Instead of diving off the rocks into the cool sea, the Cecelia smashed into the thick, coarse, rope net. As the fibers tightened around her flexible body (Y/N) screamed and flailed.

Her sharp claws did nothing against the harsh strands as she was lifted away from the depths.

Louder the cheers became as she swung above the rowdy crew. Their hands reached to pull at (Y/N)’s form, in return, she gnashed her sharp teeth at them. Clawing for any flesh to destroy in hopes that creating fear would cause them to return her to the sea.

Each strike was like a failed hunt as each swipe became more sluggish. She thought the torture would never end when a loud voice called for the men to stop.

Silently, all eyes turned to the wheelhouse. She shivered as the blond man stepped down the wooden steps, walking closer. His men moved aside like fish before a shark. Though, she was the only prey in his violet-blue gaze.

Frozen she watched as he slowly reached out his scarred hand. The callous palm rested on her cold, moist tentacle seeming to savor her.

(Y/N) hissed and lunged causing the net to sway. Grinning as her claws dripped red from catching the captain's hand.

His men somehow became stiller than a sea before a hurricane, and the Great Cecelia paid them no mind. Focused on her small win.

The captain looked at his injured hand before chuckling. Loudly it rang through the silence before the crew joined like terrified seagulls.

“Thank min havkanin for the mark, but” He turned to the men behind him. “I think you need time to calm down. Don't you lot agree?!"

The chorus was louder than any whale song as the men affirmed their captain.

"Then to the tank!" He yelled, before licking the blood off his hand.

Smiling as he made eye contact with (Y/N).

Sweden: As the sun passed its peak, (Y/N) awoke to the feeling of her tightened skin as it dried. Stretching should have been relaxing, but the state of her skin was more akin to a fresh sunburn after a nap in the summer.

Sluggishly she slunk back to the depths, shivering as the cold enveloped her. Quickly, her body readjusted to its primary environment, swirling in a graceful twirl as she sank to the seafloor.

The sand puffed like a smoke cloud as she rested, observing the blue world as a rumble came from her stomach.

A familiar scent bloomed like an anemone across the current. Blood, fresh and fishy.

Eyes dilated, (Y/N) followed the scent. Wondering if the injured being would be simple prey, or if would it lead her to a feeding frenzy that should be avoided.

Around the stones and across the sand, she glided. Stopping when the source was in sight.

A small, silver herring speared on what appeared to be a string of crystal struggled in front of a dark tube.

(Y/N) stalked closer, her curiosity pushing aside any fear as she reached for the fish. Her hand was a breath away when the fish was snagged back.

She blinked. Stunned, but that nagging of wanting, pushed her on. Forcing her way into the dark tube.

The fish glinted in the low light. Slowly, she again reached forward. Fingertips grazed the smooth scales when a loud bang turned her world black.

Gasping, (Y/N) turned and pushed against the now-closed entrance. Whimpers and cries hurting her throat from overuse. Deafening her from the subtle scrapping.

A sudden jostle banged her against the end of the trap as she was again exposed to the light.

Her hands pressed against the now clear sides to stabilize against the rocking movement. Her eyes froze on the whitetip shark man that was carrying her away.

His sharp smile offered no comfort as his muffled voice spoke to her.

“Ready to go home sjöstjärna?”

Norway: Those thoughts of oneness rang through his mind like a belled buoy during a storm. Creating visions of a happy future that were as vivid as lighting.

Lidolf swam closer, timing his strokes with the tide. Hoping the foam hid his black-and-white form.

As the cetacean was stilled by the pile of stone, he monitored his future mate for movement. Slowly he lifted his hands over the rocks, dropping drops of seawater onto them. Hovering over her hips.

There was no hesitation as Lidolf clamped down. Digging his claws into her soft flesh as he ripped her away from the world above.

The blond orca laughed as his manet began her panicked struggle. Her teeth and claws only left scratches in his blubbery hide.

He forced her head close as he nuzzled her neck, rapidly swimming off. Taking her away far from the warmth above while speaking promises of their new home.

Hours passed as the water chilled and large ice floats appeared, and (Y/N) began to weaken from the struggle. Her voice felt hoarse from screaming curses and insults at her captor. The Cecealia’s tentacles and arms hung limply with bruised tips.

With heavy eyes, (Y/N) noted how the never-quiet Lidolf had silenced himself. His face was stoic with focus as he gazed at different floats.

Suddenly, he popped up with a “That’s it!” and rushed between two colliding bergs. Turning sharply to the left before swimming into a large iceberg, that was protected by thick floats.

Once deep within the icy wall, (Y/N) felt Lidolf finally release his titanium grip. She seized the opportunity, pushing his arms aside. Putting distance between her and the orca male.

Eye to eye, they remained in a standoff. (Y/N) tensed as Lidolf spread his arms, welcoming her to their icy home.

“As I told you hours ago, I’m not your MATE!”

Dashing, (Y/N) used her tentacles to propel herself forward and around the crazed merman reaching for her again.

The chase felt one-sided as (Y/N) twisted and turned looking for the exit, and waiting for the orca to pull her back. Bite her with a claim and drag her deeper in.

Looking back, that would have been a daydream compared to the nightmare he used.

She had reached the exit, ready to bolt into the dark sea when his voice bounced off the ice in a language unknown to modern sea life. As quickly as it rumbled, it faded. Leaving (Y/N) frozen in silence.

When nothing happened, (Y/N) cautiously shuffled. She placed one tentacle out into the unknown, allowing it to curl against the uneven surface. The moment it settled, she screamed.

Burning, red sigils ran up her form like fire racing over oil causing her to collapse against the berg.

Panting, shaking (Y/N) was vulnerable to the gentle arms that scooped her. Tightly she was cradled against Lidolf, as he placed kisses along her hairline. Murmuring Norwegian comforts.

“What have you done to me?”

Clicking, Lidolf nuzzled her once more. “Making sure min manet stays home.”

Iceland: (Y/N) scrunched her face as a small, warm current of air blew across her face. It didn’t last long before it disappeared, but that peace also didn’t last as another blew across her face. The Cecelia groaned and swatted the air hoping that the breeze came from a stubborn bug or stupid gull.

As her arm came down again, a deep giggle erupted like metal being dropped on a tile.

She snapped to attention like a spooked alligator. Nose to nose, she was with a charcoal-haired merman that had the brightest yellow eyes that she had ever seen.

“Who are you!?”

“Me?!” Cocked the cetacean male while putting his hand on his thin chest. “I’m Erlingr, sjókindin mín.”

Umming, (Y/N) opened her mouth to question the strange name forced upon her when Erlingr leaned forward. Their noses almost touched again.

“Do you wanna play a game?”

His request sounded innocent, but something in the tone wasn’t. Like a stranger holding candy doesn’t appear harmful, there is something about him that causes the skin to prickle.

“No,” (Y/N) shook as she slowly sunk back into the sea. “I’ve got to go.”

Her endeavor for distance was halted when Erlingr popped up in a flurry of bubbles.

He questioned why not, there is no harm in having fun.

Again, (Y/N) pushed back. Claiming she had to go hunt and reset her cove.

With each excuse (Y/N) could see how his fists tightened and he drew ever closer. Forcing her against the stone and blocking all exits.

There was no space left for breathing and she snapped at the skinny dolphin. Demanding he let her go with a futile push.

Erlingr leaned back and smiled showing his sharp teeth. “If you win my game, I will. But…”

“But?”

“If you fail, you come home with me.”

Finland: The sea’s movement may have rocked the dingy, but the man within paid it no mind. Instead, his mind was occupied by his merienkelini on the stone. Her sleeping form would make his work so much easier.

Carefully, the Finnish pirate lifted the modified musket from the wooden floor. Adjusted the weapon for perfect alignment despite the constant motion of the ocean.

Click, boom!

The dart flew and hit (Y/N). The dart scraping only woke her a moment before the medication within knocked her back into dreamland.

Within minutes Niilo had rowed his boat to the sea stack. Tying it to the rock as he moved his prize onto the wet floor.

He smiled at her unconscious form before reaching for the small flare under his seat.

Another series of clicks and boom turned the sky a flash red.

His crew would be here soon, and hopefully, his merienkelini will enjoy her tank.

Regular

Denmark: Underneath the waves circled a blunt-nosed six-gill merman. His pale and tan countershading blended him in well with the sand as he stared at the being above the waves. Paying no mind to the mackerel that struggled in his right hand.

Breathing deeply, he floated to the surface, dragging the panicking fish with him. A look of determination in his violet-blue eyes as he closed in on Cecelia.

Using his hands, Markell lifted himself to be level with the stone top. Eye to eye he was with the now awoken mermaid.

For a moment he stared, savoring the way her head cocked to the side with droopy eyes made her look like a newborn seal pup.

“Umm… Can I help you?”

Blinking, Markell nodded before slamming the mackerel on the stone. Dazing the large fish.

“Care to share a meal, havkanin?”

Sweden: Before slumber can fully pull (Y/N) under its spell, a gentle hum rose above the crashing wave. At first, she tried ignoring it thinking it was nothing more than a passing cruise celebrating some odd human milestone. But as the singing grew louder she twitched.

Once, then twice as the serenade continued its crescendo.

The great Cecelia slowly lifted herself on to her arms. Cautiously, glancing around the ocean surface for the owner of the voice.

To her surprise, it was not from a great yacht, but a small dingy that bounced against the gentle waves. Inside sat a man dressed in a blue captain’s coat with a peacock feather in his black tricorne. He smiled as his voice carried tales of pirates and their adventures.

Seemingly unnoticed, (Y/N) swam closer, quietly propelled by her tentacles. As the wooden side became eye level, she reached out and held to the smooth side.

Her grip bumped the boat, causing (Y/N) to wince as the soothing siren stopped.

A dark shadow overhead caused her to look up.

The man’s face was under the sea looking directly into her (E/C) eyes. His black-framed glasses almost floated away from his own gun-steel eyes.

“Hello, sjöstjärna!” He bubbled.

Norway: Explosions rang loud like thunder and threw up water in the form of splashes like a reverse rainstorm. The aftershocks caused the sea stack to sway before it crumbled, throwing (Y/N) back into the freezing depths.

She gasped, watching as the marine life fled before the sinking balls of iron. Hastily resurfacing, (Y/N) turned in multiple circles, looking for the cause of the chaos.

Before she could locate anything, a screaming whistle forced her back into the water. The splash from above allowed for an easy dodge of the sinking cannonball.

As more iron rained from above, (Y/N) dove deep, hiding within the remains of the stack.

It felt like hours as she hid from the surface violence.

Eventually, the fury above slowed to a drizzle of metal before stopping altogether with darkness.

Biting her lip (Y/N) slowly placed a tentacle in the exposed sand. Resting it for a second before quickly pulling it back. Hesitantly she repeated the process with more of her body until she was able to gaze up.

Above was the bottom of a large vessel. Its dark wood appeared well sealed but covered in barnacles like the great whales.

In an almost crawl, she swam to the side of the boat and surfaced. To be greeted once more by a splash.

Her attempt to bolt back to the newly formed cave was spoiled by warm flesh.

Thrashing, (Y/N) realized that one of the humans had grabbed her. Holding her in a grip that rivaled her own.

Teeth gnashing, (Y/N) arched backward. Ready to soak those ivory points red when she froze like stunned prey.

Scars.

All over they covered him like stripes on a sand tiger. (Y/N) expected someone like this to be ready to kill her, drag her from the sea, and skewer her like pork on a spit. Yet, he smiled and gazed at her like a lost treasure finally found.

The strange man took advantage of the confusion, bringing her back to the surface. He took a deep breath to restore what he lost while under the waves.

Her confusion deepened like an abyss when with no introduction, he made a request.

“Are you willing to join me on a quest, Manet?”

Iceland: (Y/N) choked on the air as a sudden splash awoke her from the world of dreams. Her (h/c) hair clung to her like a second skin as she coughed up the coarse irritation that had taken residency in her throat.

A simple sweep of her hand not only corrected her dripping hair but also allowed her to take in the odd sight before her.

It was a skinny, young man, barely in years of adulthood. His bright, magma-yellow eyes looked like they should have popped, but instead, they were sunk in from starvation. Dark hair that must have once rivaled pure ebony looked more like an off-grey from days of grime.

Yet, despite the obvious suffering he smiled at her with Labrador energy.

“Hi!” he greeted as he reached for her arms. Missing as (Y/N) drew them closer to herself. “My name's Erlingr but call me Eri!”

(Y/N) continued to curl in on herself as she gave the young man a bombastic side-eye. “H-h-how did you get here?”

Erlingr’s smile somehow got bigger as he told the tale of his older brother, Lidolf leaving him behind. Claiming that his senior had ordered him to guard their treasure until his return. Which he believed would be any day now.

“Are you sure? It sounds like he stranded you to die?”

The stranded pirate sputtered in offense. “Of course not! Lidolf loves me, and even if he tried our brothers would have stopped him!”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but raise a brow at the lone man. “Ookay then… But why engage with me then?”

“Because I’m alone, and I see that you’re always alone. And I thought someone as pretty as you, sjókindin, shouldn’t be alone.”

Now, it was (Y/N)’s turn to feel offended as she felt heat flush under her skin. “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I’M ALONE!”

“Well…” Erlingr started. “For the last month I’ve been here, I’ve never seen you talk to or interact with anything.”

(Y/N) attempted to argue that was only on the surface. Under the sea, there was plenty of social activity for the cecealia.

But, he rebutted by mentioning how in a twenty-four-hour period, she was either above the surface or near it for at least eighteen hours. Which meant she was sleeping in a den the rest of the time.

Dumbfounded, the mer could only stare in confused silence. How was she supposed to respond to him?

“So, you wanna be friends?”

Finland: (Y/N) felt something rough against her tentacles that rested in the tide. Startled and wide awake she glanced around the surface, looking for suspicious shadows.

There was nothing. Not a wave off beat, splash uncounted, and floating object unnoticed.

Still, the prickling feeling lingered as her chest tightened. She felt like she was gazing into the face of her executioner as she leaned closer to the sea. Hoping a closer view would expel her fears.

(Y/N) gasped as her hearts raced when a shark silhouette erupted from the darkness. Its large, serrated teeth sawing into her tentacles as momentum breached the fish from the ocean.

Together cecealia and shark flew in an arch before crashing back into the water below. An array of bubbles, ink, and blood blinded (Y/N) as she thrashed. The shark chomped and shook (Y/N) like a treat filled chew toy.

She tried to claw at the dead eyes while screeching like a banshee, but it was futile against the shark’s shakes.

As the water transformed from a dark purple to a cloudy ruby, (Y/N)’s vision was overtaken by black spots. She could feel the knife-like teeth cleave deeper into her flesh, about to sever it.

WHAM!

The red cloud split as she sank, free from death’s jaws.

Her numbing mind attempted to process the lone, long figure fighting off her predator. His claws gliding through the shark skin like it was soggy paper, leaving red tides in the wake.

The vision spots had changed to a growing dark edge. Gradually it took over, leaving her alone with the final sound she heard was a haunting howl.

The darkness remained for (Y/N) as she contemplated whether the pain she felt was meant as a punishment in death or that she had survived the fearsome beast. If it was the latter, how many hours had it been, and how did she?

“I know you’re awake merienkelini.”

(Y/N)’s (E/C) eye cracked open revealing a simple cave. Its grey walls had been craved from centuries of tiny movements, but that wasn’t what held her interest.

The long, Harbour Porpoise merman that watched her with crossed arms did. As she stared at the annoyed man, faded scars became obvious. They littered his pale human half and speckled down to the grey and white tail.

“Um… How did I get here?”

The merman rolled his red eyes as he scoffed. “Did the shark tango really take that much out of you?”

“Yes.” She murmured, looking down at her seaweed-bandaged body. Wincing at the loss of three tentacles.

The sound of a disgruntled sigh and shuffle of movement brought her attention back to him.

“Names Niilo and…” He sighed again with a small blush. “I guess you can stay with me until you’ve recovered.”

#2p hetalia #2p headcanons #yandere #yandere hetalia #2p yandere #2p denmark #2p finland #2p iceland #2p sweden #2p norway #2p nordic #mermay

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lurkerwithcomputer · 1 year

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Little Nightmares AU. A world that’s less distorted and horrifying, less dark and dangerous, but still strange and weird, following Six and Mono.

1. Strange She is a strange child. She eats enough for three people. Her canine teeth are bigger and sharper than the other kids. Her few and far between attempts to cook come out under-cooked and salty, and only she relishes the taste. Her moods change suddenly, and when they do, the lights flicker and the shadows swell and writhe. It frightens people, and she has few friends. (They don’t understand, because they can’t hear the shadow - it only tries to soothe her, relieve the flood of feeling.) Sometimes it comes out when she’s asleep, dreaming - of the sea, of the rusting carcass of a steel behemoth in the depths below, crab claws lifeless and furnace heart drowned by the deep. That ancient thing calls to her, even dead, half-buried in the ocean floor. (”Don’t go” her shadow whispers, “here we are free” it murmurs. She has the good sense to listen.) - He is a strange child. His eyes are black like a starless night, and he knows things he shouldn’t, couldn’t know. (He sees so much through his night-sky eyes, so much he can’t put into words, not yet. Future, present, past, potential, possibilities. All within reach. All he needs is a screen.) Technology behaves strangely around him - things that aren’t plugged in humming to life, screens gutted of their components light up with black-blue-white static. It only takes him a few touches, some poking and prodding and some mumbled words to fix things, return function and purpose something reduced to a block of glass and plastic. Agitation and nervousness make blue static ripple at his fingertips, come out on his breath. Like her, it comes out when he dreams - of a decaying city, and a withered husk of a tower at its heart. (”It is a prison” the static crackles in his ear, “that is a trap” it hisses in warning. He is curious, like any child told something is dangerous without an explanation - but something in him is repulsed by the ruins in those dreams.)

2. Changes It happens, for her, on the night of a celebration - celebration of plentiful food and clean water (they don’t know they celebrate as their ancestors did. Except Mono, who sees much more than than the greenery reclaiming concrete, that they call home.) A feast gives way to all of them laying on the floor, haphazardly crossing limbs, without care. While she dreams of salt spray, dark water and blinding sun, and her shadows whisper warning, protest and comfort rolled into one, RK rolls over in his sleep, arm coming to rest over her face. His arms are freshly scraped, a scant few hours old, the result of over-ambitious acrobatics. In her sleep-haze, there is something laid across her mouth, warm, tender, and oh so salt-sweet-scented. She bites down. It is exquisite, it makes her whole, her shadows abandon their whispers to shiver and ripple in delight (she cannot put it into words, and won’t be able to until she’s much older, the salt and iron of life itself.) The rude awakening that follows is not exquisite - the cry of pain, the panicked flailing and resulting bloody nose. RK is a friend and she hurt him, and she rights her wrong as best she knows how, with bandages and creams, scavenged like treasure from the slowly-healing ruination around them. (still, something between her and RK changes. He is less free with casual contact, embraces and patting her hair on dark days, and leaning against her when he is tired, and he fears her hunger in ways he didn’t before.) - It happens for him on a rainy day. Only Six and Raincoat, clad in yellow against the weather, can go out to scavenge. And without fresh scavenging, there are few improvements Mono and RK can make to their home, at least not improvements that don’t also require a few days of clear skies. At first they make up stories, tall tales that are bizarre even to the world they have known (and never known different. Except for Mono. But he knows not how to tell his secrets, and so he keeps them.) RK wanders off to stretch his arms and legs, to shake of the cool damp weather, and maybe find out if their firewood is still dry (it is, as Mono knew it would be, and so he left RK to his own devices for a while - but how can he explain his knowing?) Mono sees it then, on the empty screen with plants growing from the buttons and taking root in the spaces inside. Another building, retaken by tree and root and vine, piled high with books (“a library” his static supplies, crackling at the base of his skull). There is so much there to seek, to find, to learn, to know. The anticipation of new knowledge buzzes black-blue-white around him, mirror to the glow of the screen. And so he reaches out and touches - his ears fill with white-hot screeching - for a split second he sees all things, a shining web entangled - and he is there, panting on the ground, among books festooned with mushrooms and moss, blue glow behind him, pointing the way home. Here, at last, in this place, he finds proof of the knowledge that’s lived behind his eyes since he can remember. Their world was different, once, and many things about this world are new and different and strange. That there are no adults but monsters, menacing figures wreathed in fog, glimpsed from a distance, encounters with them rare but terrifying - that was not always rare. The crumbling corpses of ancient Powers that he and Six dream of were not always dead, nor reduced to the faint pull of dreaming visions. (And with the joy of proof, of knowledge he can hold in his hands, comes the pain of knowing the other knowledge is true, too - how many Sixes and Monos died for the world he now enjoys? How many alternities did this softer world cost?)

3. Growing Ever since the time she bit RK, ever since that glowing taste of life like morning sun on her face, her shadows have changed. It has face and form now, a double of herself, that speaks in a wispy, whispery shadow of her voice. (Part of her. And She part of it. She is not as vast in presence or might as her past and future selves that could have been, or even that which still sings rusting metal and dark oceans into her dreams, but even young, an eldritch being is not limited to only one manifestation at once.) She’s taken up fishing, because birds are hard to catch and rats bite (and the fur fouls her mouth with its taste for days afterwards, and the crimson delight that fills her chest is not quite worth waking up with rat-hair breath.) She stands on the dock, enjoying the feeling of warm metal and weathered wood underfoot, while watching the sunset turn the water to molten gold and copper, and finally to blood and quicksilver as the moon rises red in a purple glass sky. She eats the fish in the way she likes best - wiping the fish-slime with a scrap of cloth and tearing into it still wriggling in her hard-nailed grip, letting the delight of firm-tender fish warm her as blood and life drip down her chin. Her toes tap a happy rhythm on the dock, her shadows writhe and coil and leap gleefully, and though she slurps down her meal with eyes closed in satisfaction and does not see it, her double springs from her shadow in phantom steps, to dance joyfully on the water’s surface. (she does see, because the shadow’s eyes are her eyes: a girl in a worn, too-small yellow jacket over patched black clothing re-sewn in uneven, colorful stitches, grown taller and wider from time and better food, eyes that are red as blood or wine behind her thick, dark eyelashes and tangled hair, eating a still-twitching fish, with bliss on her face. “The sea is ours now, not the domain of a long-dead Power” it whispers, and though it’s voice is always an ashen whisper, the fierce delight is unmistakable). - He’s taller now, and permanent eyebags gather under his ink-well eyes (eyebags that are beautiful colors, according to Six, magenta around the edges, and lilac and indigo. Sometimes the intensity of her stare almost makes him wish for his paper bag again, though it rotted through years ago). He refuses to hide from her stare now, not after the last celebration they all held, where Six’s double and Six took turns dancing with him (her agility and the shadow’s ability to be immaterial at will are probably the only thing that saved them both from tripping over his long gangly legs.) But Six is out fishing at the moment, and he is making good on the hidden truths he’s always carried - or some of them, anyways. A library means he can show others what he knows in a way they will understand, and they can help him make all this knowledge bear fruit. (It already has. He was much shorter - and thinner, although he hasn’t gotten much wider - when he scaled the lamposts to give their home the buzz and warmth of electricity again, and his own static echoed the power lines, crackling happiness around his fingertips and on his breath.) This creation is a bit different. More of a step into the unknown. It’s both a beacon and a sentry, a way to signal that there are survivors living here, and to keep an eye out for whatever comes close, fellow survivors or other, less welcome, visitors. The gas bags are filled, the anchor cables are taut and bolted down, all that remains is to bring their broadcast balloon, and the cameras it carries, to life. All that’s missing is his technomancer’s touch. A deep breath in. A deep breath out. In again. Blue-black-white flares at his fingertips and haloes his head, dead-channel noise made physical. Through the layers of insulation and weatherproofing - because they’ve all learned enough not to leave live wires just laying around - he feels circuits spark to life, feels the beacon pulsing and cameras blinking on. The bank of screens behind him hums in time with his breathing, a birds-eye view of green plants and red-orange brick painted in panoramic piecemeal. There are whoops of joy and cries of delight. He can see Six’s grin in his mind’s eye, though she’s still at the dockside, a tiny glimpse of future reflected in his eyes. Satisfaction at a job well done fizzles up his spine, in his ears, spreading from fingertips to temples, matching the warm sunset glowing on his face. A sense of the world falling into place. (”That crumbling thing is finally broken for good. The airwaves are a free-for-all now,” his inner transmission crackles, and the swelling static inside him sounds almost like uproarious laughter, and he laughs too.)

#little nightmares #six #mono #runaway kid #raincoat girl #a softer alternity #lurker writes

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cryosilverbirds · 2 years

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character aesthetics – childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli

Summary: Just aesthetics and feelings I associate with the main four tall men. This was inspired by @/venexus’s post. I’m a sucker for writing like this, it just scratches my brain so nicely. If some of it doesn’t make sense, just ignore it :)

Warnings: [none]

Word Count: 0.9k+

CHILDE is the roaring and raging waters crashing against cliff faces, threatening to pull you into the deep, dark depths; a swift and merciless tide. He is the sound of metal blades clashing, of arrows whistling past your ears, of blood rushing and your heart beating in your ears. He is the thrill and fear you feel in the face of danger, when your life is at stake. He is the smell of ocean salt, tingling your nose and filling it with that sharp scent. He’s quick kisses and smiles against your lips before he pulls away to throw himself into another battle. Sometimes, it’s passionate and desperate, because you never know if this kiss will be your last.

To be with Childe is to live a fast-paced life, to be surrounded with buzzing energy that only settles into moments of tender touches and worried words. Of gentle and loving kisses that promise he’ll always make it back safely. Dull and lifeless blue eyes that only shine with life when he’s with you, a vast ocean filled with adoration only for you to drown in.

DILUC is the gentle crackle of flames in a fireplace, a comforting warmth that envelops you like a blanket curled tight around you to ward off the winter cold. He is the sound of busy shuffling through the grand halls of the Dawn Winery manor, the loud ticking of the clock in a quiet room. He is the burning drive to protect, to defend your loved ones. He is your guiding light, leading you through the darkness that threatens to swallow you whole. He smells like wine, the scent intoxicating and sweet; you’d need only be near him to be drunk. His touch is gentle and soft, like the smile he gives you when he sees you. You are his sunlight just as he is yours.

To be with Diluc is to live a life where shared moments are often brief, but it makes the extended shared moments you both get when time permits, all the more precious. It’s dinners by candlelight, warm baths with rose petals, nightly walks out on manor grounds under the moonlight. Diluc is a man that hardly smiles, but whenever he looks at you, the corners of his lips lift up just a bit, a soft smile full of quiet adoration and love. One of many memories you’ll burn forever into your mind.

KAEYA is the cold, cutting chill of snowfall. A cold sharpness that leaves no physically open wound, but instead, seeps into your skin and deep into your bones and freezes you from the inside. But he is also the same snowfall that melts in an instant at your touch. He is the brightest star in the sky, enchanting and hypnotising, your starlight. He sounds like the gentle tinkling of wind chimes, light and with an underlying song of melancholy. He is the calm sea, the sunlit surface hiding the unspoken doubts and uncertainties that lay beneath in the deep dark depths, buried in the seabed of memories that haunt him. He is the mischief that stirs in its cage, filling you with a buzzing thrill as you run hand in hand with him from the Angel’s Share tavern owner’s furious footsteps after poking fun at him too much. He smells sweet like the Dandelion Wine that makes up his favourite concoction of Death After Noon. His touches and kisses are light and teasing, always leaving you wanting more. Sometimes it’s sensual, and sometimes, it’s with the desperation and fear that you’ll be ripped away from him if he doesn’t hold you close enough on days where his mind clouds with fear.

To be with Kaeya is to live neither a mundane nor an extremely eventful life, to live with a man with many ghosts of the past haunting him and uncertainties and doubts holding him hostage. He wonders why you chose to love him, a person who divulges almost nothing about himself but knows you more than you know yourself. But despite him thinking he is undeserving of love, you show him that he deserves it, with gentle touches and soft kisses and quietly spoken words that only he can hear in the darkness of night, when the shadows of his mind are most active. You’ve slowly eased yourself into his soul and made it difficult for him to ever want to let you go.

ZHONGLI is the distant, low rumble of thunder. The crunching of dirt beneath your feet. The unmoving and unyielding bedrock. The soft glow of lanterns at night, warm and welcoming. He is the low murmur and buzz of distant city nightlife. He is the deep-rooted warmth you feel in your heart when you look at someone you cherish greatly with much love and care, but he is also the deadly calm that promises to bring destruction should a finger with the intent to harm be laid upon you. He is the smell of incense, the smoky scent sharp but soothing. He’s gentle yet also firm, each touch and kiss he gives is one full of love and a distant sadness that says he will dearly miss you when you’re gone.

To be with Zhongli is to live with a millennia of history, to live with a former god that has seen humans come and go with their, in his eyes, ephemeral lifespans. Time for you is precious, so every moment he spends with you, he treasures them just as much as you do. These memories will be the gemstones that are set in stone. They will shine bright forever until they slowly erode with him and it too crumbles into dust. But he hopes that he will at least crumble into dust with you.

#genshin impact #genshin impact writing #genshin impact x reader #childe #childe genshin impact #childe genshin x reader #childe x reader #diluc #diluc genshin impact #diluc genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya #kaeya genshin impact #kaeya genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli #zhongli genshin impact #zhongli genshin x reader #zhongli x reader

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under-the-cherrytree · 2 years

Note

TERU MMINAMOTO WITH A WITHC S/O. BOOM BITCH OR OR A MERMAID?? KING-- SHIT IDK MAN ALL I KNOW IS THEY'RE MYTHICAL AND ITS HOT

GOTH MOMMY ENDERGY WHOOO BITCH ITS 1 AMMMM AND THIS IS AMAZINGGGGGGRSJS

ELF

FAIRY

ALICE IN WONDERLAND AU WHERE THE READER IS EITHER MAD HATTER OR THE QUEEN OF HEARTS AND TERU'S ALICE

TYRANT

VAMPIRE

WEREWOLF IDC MAN AAAAWJDFKOSFJKEHDLADNJDKSND FUCMFUCKD

A Calming Voice From The Deep

Siren Teru x pirate s/o

Warnings: blood, kidnap

A/n: LEVVVV HIIIIIIII

I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS!!!

SIREN TERU IS THE BESTTTTTTTTT

I feel like this sucks but that’s fine-

Anyways i hope you enjoy and have a great day or night!!

The moon sparkled against ocean waves as gentle swells rocked the boat. The smell of salt from the sea filled your lungs as you sighed. It was always relaxing when you were on the sea, it made you feel at home. You have been sailing for a while and you were a well respected pirate. You had an amazing crew and you always brought a good load home from all the times you traveled. However, while the seas are fun, they are very dangerous. Monsters roam deep in the sea, making the waters a very unsafe place.

The boat rocked softly as the waves splashed against the side of the boat. You looked out into the ocean, preparing for any threats. It was dark so you couldn’t see anything, but you could definitely hear everything going on around you.

You heard a soft hum in the distance, drawing your attention to the sound.

It was a siren.

It was soft, almost unnoticeable at first. But soon it got louder. You felt a shiver go down your spine. No one has ever actually caught a siren before but there were many stories about sirens you heard from fellow pirates. Even the strongest of pirates could find themselves being entangled in the web of the siren's voice. You were about to call your sleeping crew but you decided to handle this one yourself. You didn’t want to risk their safety, you had to do this one on your own.

You grabbed a cage that you used for catching lobsters and prepared it, ready to throw it at the first sign of movement you saw. You shaked the sound from your head, doing everything in your power to try and ignore the beautiful voice that was calling you. However, this wasn’t a normal siren voice. It sounded like a males voice rather than a female, but it still had a delicate tone to it.

You felt yourself getting lost in its song, sinking into the sound of the siren. You were almost fully taken until you saw the tip of the siren's tail, now knowing where the siren was. You threw the cage in the water and the singing stopped. You watched the water, waiting for any sign of movement. The cage started thrashing around in the ocean and you smiled, using the rope to pull the cage up on the boat.

You dropped the cage on the deck, looking at the creature with wide eyes. It was really a siren. The siren has short blond hair and ocean blue eyes to match his ocean blue tail.

You were still caught off guard as he grunted in pain, trying to get out of the rather small cage. You took the rope and wrapped it around his mouth tightly so he wouldn’t sing. He, of course, tried to get out of your grasp but he didn’t have much mobility on the deck of your ship.

You examined him as he glared up at you with a fearful expression.

“I really caught one… a siren!” You mocked him. You noticed his fin was caught between the cage, limiting his movement. You noticed the blood that dripped from his scales. He was hurt. Your heart tightened when you saw that, sort of feeling back for the creature. You grabbed his cage and he started thrashing around again.

“Hold on!! I’ll get your tail un-stuck if you just need to stop moving!” You shouted at him but he didn’t listen, only struggling more. You dragged him into your office, throwing him on the floor. You looked at him irritated for how much of a fight he put up. You grabbed pliers to cut the cage with but he gave you a fearful look.

“I’m not going to hurt you… I just want to cut the cage..” You did just what you said. You cut the cage around his tail and freed him but his tail only started bleeding more. You grabbed a rag and tied it around his tail to stop the bleeding.

“There you go! All better!” You smiled proudly. He looked at his tail and looked back at you, a shine in his eyes. You cut off the rope from around his neck.

“Speak siren!” You ordered “who are you?” He didn’t answer, only examining you up and down. You sighed as you sat on a chair, staring at him.

“I’m Y/n… and who are you?” You tried and encourage him to talk

“I’m… Teru..” He mutters out. His voice was beautiful to you, even if he was just saying simple words.

“Teru huh? Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Teru!” You smiled softly at him but he didn’t share the same excitement.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“What the hell do you want with me…?” He asks a bit harshly.

“Well that's not a nice way to speak to the captain of this ship.” You scolded, sitting up and bringing your blade to his neck. He only scoffed and looked to the side, staying silent.

“Well if you do want to know… I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. My ship is running out of food so chopping you up and eating you doesn’t sound too bad…” You grin. He tensed up when you spoke, fear filling him.

“I’m joking!!” You laughed “not about the running low on food part tho- but we won’t eat you, you are too valuable~”

“So what are you going to do with me?” He asks again.

“Like I said, I don’t know. But I have never seen a mermaid before so it might be helpful to have you as my own personal mermaid…” You thought to yourself.

“I always hated you humans… you are so okay with ripping family apart, even of your own kind.. I will never see my brother or sister again because of you.” He said coldly. Your heart sunk when he said this. The actuality of this situation was that you were going to take him away from his family and it saddened you to think that.

“Don’t say it like that, you are going to make me feel bad…”

“Well it's the truth! My family means so much to me and I have done everything in my power to keep them safe!” He raises his voice slightly.

“Well look at what you sirens to do us humans! You sing to us then eat us!! You are the real monsters here!!” You shouted back, irritated. Teru stated quite, looking down knowing that in a way you were right. You still felt back for him. You could tell that he was doing everything in his power to convince you to let him go. If you did show him off to humans, what would that do? Teru would probably get tested on like some animal or people wouldn’t believe you at all when you say you captured a siren. Then, if you let him go, more shipwrecks will happen and more people will die. This wasn’t an easy decision. But the sun was almost up so rather than thinking with your head, you had to go with your gut feeling.

“Fine, you can go back.” You picked the mermaid up bridal style as you walked out of the room.

“Really? You mean it?” He looks at you shocked, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Yeah I mean, who am I to split up a family?” You shrugged.

“Thank you… it means a lot to me that you are letting me go, I am very grateful.” He smiled softly. You felt your heart skip a beat seeing his smile, your cheeks turning pink. Once you were on the doc you sat him on the ledge.

“Whatever, now leave before I regret letting you go” You grinned. As you said this, Teru quickly jumped into the ocean, swimming away.

You smiled, feeling quite happy with letting him go.

Two weeks passed since you met this mermaid and things only got worse for you and your crew. Food was drastically low and you wouldn’t last the ship ride back home. You and your crew stopped at a small island hoping to find some food but the island provided nothing for you. You sat inside a watery cave, your eyes closed as you started to fall asleep. At this point, your crew members will drop weeks before you get back to land, you starving with them. This was a terrible situation that you didn’t really know how to get out of.

You heard water moving as you looked into the salty sea, waking you up. You grabbing a rock in case a sea monster came to attack you. You waited for more movement and you saw a head emerge from the water, swimming closer to you.

“Did you miss me~?” Teru smirked as he swam closer to you, sitting next to you on your rock.

“Teru? Did you swim all the way out here just to find me?” You asked him, a bit shocked.

“Sirens have ways of transportation too, ya know” He made himself comfortable on the rock “Sirens can swim way faster than your man made boats so what takes you guys days to sail can take us less then a hour”

“I see… why did you come here anyways?”

“Well I have some food with me” He put a bag on his lap. The bag was full of clams, crabs, lobsters, and other sea food that would normally be hard to find. “My brother wanted me to bring this to you as well. Why he wasn’t happy that you kidnapped me, he is grateful that you had mercy for me and let me go. He didn’t think that should go unrewarded. And I remember you telling me you were low on food for your crew.” You drooled seeing all the food he had, not eating in a while.

“Here” He held what looked like a piece of crab to your mouth using a dried piece of kept that you assumed he was using as a spoon “Try some, my brother has amazing cooking!” You did as he said, taking a bite of the food as the flavors melted on your taste buds.

“This is really good…! Thank you so much, my crew and I were just out of food and we didn’t know if we would make it back home. You saved our lives.”

“Ah…” His cheeks turned pink the way you looked at him. He only smiled back at you, looking at you lovingly. “Of course, I’m glad we can help. I can even bring you some more food if you need it, I don’t want my pirate to starve going back home” He inches closer to you. “I can also teach you how to properly handle seafood, some of this stuff is poisonous if you don’t handle them correctly. I can even ask my brother to show you how to cook if you want!”

“That will be lovely, thank you Teru”

“But for now, I think you should get some rest… You look exhausted..” He put his hand on your head and leaned it on his shoulder so you would sleep. “I assume you have been the one staying up for the crew at night. Have you been sleeping at all?”

“I-I don’t need to sleep!” You tried to sit up but he wouldn’t let you.

“You’re exhausted, I saw you sleeping before I swam over here. If you want a nap I will be here so please… sleep” His words were soft when he spoke. You didn’t know if it was your own free will or him controlling you when you shut your eyes, resting on him. He started to hum a soft song, causing you to melt into him more. His voice was so calming and it sounded so perfect.

You couldn’t help but fall asleep to it.

Tagging~ @sleepless-simp @stuckindreamland06 @bladethrowsshade

#tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #tbhk x reader #jshk #tbhk anime #hanako x reader #toilet bound x reader #hanako kun #jshk x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun #tbhk minamoto #tbhk manga #teru x reader #teru minamoto

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

Text

Engiespy Week (2022) Day 3 - "The Obligatory Beach Episode"🔞

Also available on Ao3 here

CW for NSFW/smut 🔞

Being so damned busy all the time had very few perks, unless all-nighters, aching joints, and enough stress to crack a diamond could be considered benefits. Dell, the lone mind behind countless projects, be it weapons, mad science, experimental technology, or emergency repairs, suffered the weight of ceaseless requests and demands alike from his team. His lust for a challenge made it almost impossible to say no to them, and thus he wound himself up so tight he could shatter from the slightest increase of pressure.

But being an expert in repairs also meant knowing how to fix himself. No one ever batted an eye when he said he was going to the beach. Most wouldn’t peg him up to be the kind of fella who liked the sea breeze on his face, sand on his skin or the faint taste of salt on his tongue and they’d be right. Throughout his life, for about as long as he could remember, he had suffered from dreams of being swallowed by the waters and left to sink into the depths, unable to find the strength to fight his way back to the surface. Needless to say, the convulsing, churning mouth of the sea laden with saliva-like foam did not utter relaxation to him.

He hesitated, his legs mere inches from its liquid maw, shuddering with old, unhealed fear. He mustered the necessary strength to dip them into the sea and though the coldness bit into his flesh, eliciting a hiss from him, he persisted. He held himself for warmth, looking up to the sun, which had begun its slow descent into the sea, turning it into a magnificently vivid orange ball that sent a golden glow over the shimmery surface of the water. It paused on its way down to kiss his skin, heating it just enough to comfort him, as if to tell him that everything would be alright.

He glanced around the beach, but only an empty shore greeted him with countless sandy eyes. Dell brought his bucket closer to him, the plastic scraping against the rocks. Inside, lied the fresh bodies of plump, delicious fish. He pulled one out, scowling at the sliminess of the scales against his palm and threw it into the water below with a resounding splash. He waited, watching the ripples flow outward, eventually fading into nothingness. Engineer scooped up another, holding his breath to avoid the stench before ceremoniously tossing it into the ocean, allowing the limp corpse to sink all the way down.

With a sigh, Dell grabbed the next, wondering if he would show up at all. Another splash and his patience thinned, becoming at risk of snapping. Maybe it was about time to go back to the base. He was sure that Sniper would love to gut some of these fish for him, provided he got to cook a couple for himself. It was probably better than tossing them out for something that might not even come.

A shadow moved in the azure void below, hungrily snapping up his offerings, making a mess of blood, flesh, and bones, which too, were quickly devoured. Dell rolled his eyes a little – he was fashionably late as usual, likely intending to extort as much fish as possible from him.

A familiar face emerged from the depths, smiling smugly at him, revealing rows of pointed teeth. “Worked yourself half to death again, have we, labourer?”

“Naw, I reckon only a quarter to death this time around.”

“Only.” He shook his head in disapproval, his salt and pepper curls swaying with the movement of his head. One could almost mistake Dorian for a human from the neck up, if it wasn’t for his amber irises, blue-tinted skin, or the gills on his neck. “As much as I enjoy watching you suffer, that is still too much.”

“I know, Spy, I know.” He sighed. “I promise ya, next time I’ll be seein’ ya long before the thought of rippin’ the last of my hair out has occurred to me.”

“Must I ask you again to call me Dorian?” He feigned indignance, but something in his expression showed a small relief in hearing his class name again. “I am not a spy anymore, unless you count whale watching as espionage.”

“Have ya got any dirt on ‘em?” He asked, half-jokingly.

“Non. I will keep trying, however. Dolphins seem to have the more interesting gossip.”

A tentacle rose from the water, curling around the rock Dell was perched on. The purplish, slimy appendages used to frighten Dell, but after touching and being touched by them so often, he adored them just as much as any other part of his old teammate. He stroked it gently, the skin leathery and yet, incredibly smooth to the touch. Several more clutched the rock, the strength of their suckers allowing Dorian to pull himself up. He sat next to Dell, causing cold water to drip onto his clothes.

“My apologies, Dell.” He said, his smile suggesting he didn’t mean it at all.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinkin’ of tossin’ me in the water again. I don’t like that smile of yours.”

“Now that… I am sorry for.”

“You better be.” He said light-heartedly, patting his companion’s bundle of tentacles, about where his thigh would have been.

A clawed, scaly hand held his own, stilling it. “Allow me to make it up to you today.” He said with surprising genuineness.

“The Dorian I know doesn’t make up for nothin’.”

He lowered his voice, his tone becoming furtive. “You have made me soft.”

“Aw, shucks, you’ve missed me that much, have ya?”

“Being alone at sea tends to do that, labourer. At this stage, I almost miss our docteur, and the little tank he used to stuff me into for his…” He inhaled sharply, steeling himself against the horrors forever embedded into his memory. “…Experiments.” He looked down at his monstrous form, his index stroking his lip, as if searching for a cigarette he’d lost years ago. “But I suppose I miss those too. Mostly because of your… midnight visits.” A low purring sound escaped Dorian, which he stifled out of embarrassment. Most of his clicks, snarls and satisfied little growls were involuntary, and though Dell adored them, Spy did not.

He leant in closer, so close that he could smell the salt on Dorian’s skin. “I still think about those, if you get what I mean.”

“Oui, I imagine you do.” He chuckled in that dignified sort of way, his lashes fluttering. “For a man who spends his day covered in oil and grease you certainly have the dirty mind to match.”

“Says the fella who just ate a couple of fish raw, bones an’ all. I’d say you’re the dirty one here.”

“Hush. You don’t have an excuse. I don’t exactly get the privilege of fine cuisine anymore.”

“Don’t pretend like ya don’t love it.”

Pain seeped into his features, like the slow drag of a blade across his lips, causing him to frown. “A part of me does. Not all of me.” He gestured to his lower half: his wandering, curious tentacles, which had taken to tapping and curling around rocks of all shapes and sizes, as well as Dell’s bare belly.

One tendril grew particularly bold and suckled to his chest, applying suction to his nipples, making him squirm. “It seems that part of ya likes me a lot.”

“All of me does.” He said with surprising honesty. “The only difference is la bête is far more insistent on showing it.”

The tip of another tendril poked his cheek, effortlessly sticking to the soft skin. “Ya might just make me blush.” He chuckled, gently peeling it off with a soft pop.

“It’s too late for might, Dell.”

Lips as cold as the depths met his own, and though he anticipated ashy, rich flavours, he discovered only salt, coppery tanginess, and a faint bitterness. It was wrong to remember a man who no longer existed, but he couldn’t help but sense pieces of him, hidden within the creature he had become. He was in Dorian’s tastefully restrained passion, and his fleeting yet intentional touches which were always just enough to work him up, but not enough to appear… undignified, as he often put it. Smooth, scaled hands explored him gently, refamiliarizing themselves with his body, while several tentacles wandered all over his skin, massaging him into nothing short of bliss. Suckers stuck to his neck, chest, back and his legs, curiously tasting every part of him before peeling away once more.

With time, however, Dorian’s finesse faded into animalistic hunger – claws nicked his skin, tentacles coiled tightly around his limbs and jagged teeth grazed against his lips. The vibration of a deep, rumbling growl against Dell’s throat announced the death of his self-control, and before he could utter a single word in protest, the slim tip of a tendril slipped into his shorts, effortlessly finding what it was looking for.

He pulled away in a hurry, not wanting to be seen like this to be seen by an unfortunate passer-by. “Are ya sure we won’t be seen doin’—mmph!” Another forced its way between his lips, stuffing itself into his mouth.

“No one will see us, Dell. I will make sure of it.” A possessive snarl lingered in his words.

Cold air greeted his abdomen as his shorts were tugged down and discarded altogether. The discomfort faded as the beast’s appendages warmed with his body. He felt utterly overwhelmed, but in an irreplicable, euphoric way as every part of him was lovingly stroked and stimulated. He didn’t fight or struggle, he was long beyond that. He relaxed, surrendering himself to his partner, figuring that he too, must be pent up after all this time.

Tentacles snaked further downward, suckers tickling his thighs as they lightly stuck to his skin. He shuddered all over, a low groan escaping him as small, gentle suckers pressed to his girthy clit, enveloping it, and slowly pumping it. The tip of another rubbed up against his entrance, encircling it, teasing him to a maddening extent. Dorian eased downward, placing clawed hands on his legs, parting them further. He bowed his head and his curious tendrils lifted from his cock, the release of pressure drawing a whimper from him. Spy gave him a sultry glance before placing his lips to his stout, blushing clit, suckling on it. His mouth lacked the intense heat of a human, but the coolness and overwhelming wetness more than made up for it. His long tongue, a fitting shade of silver, pampered the sensitive head of his dick, the fine bristles adding almost too much sensation to bear. He only realised just how loud he was when the tendril in his mouth began to thrust inside, perhaps commanded to do so by Dorian, or running purely on instinct.

A rumbling, crackling churr sounded from his monstrous partner, sending vibrations against the most sensitive parts of him. “Feeling better yet, labourer?”

The intrusive appendage in his mouth slithered out, allowing him to respond. “You bet, boy.” He said breathily, his cock hungrily pulsing. “Y’know, when I heard about a man-eatin’ monster, I didn’t think they meant it like this.”

“Well… all rumours start from somewhere, do they not?” Dorian smirked, sinking just a little lower.

“There’s no harm in helpin’ them along.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

The slender tip of his tongue rolled against his drooling entrance, lapping it all up in a shameless display of desire. Dell reached down to touch his unbearably hard clit, but a tentacle wrapped tightly around his arm, pulling it back. Dorian’s lengthy tongue slipped inside of him, the bristles, ridges, and rich texture all incredibly satisfying on the way in. It thickened towards the base, becoming wonderfully filling. His tongue shifted inside of him, exploring him deeply until it struck just the right spot – and judging by the smirk on the corners of his mouth, Dorian intended to abuse it. His inhuman tongue plunged in deep, over and over again, reducing him to a mewling, moaning mess.

“Goddamn, you’re good at that—!” He cried out, feeling a hot, satisfying gush squeeze out of him.

Dorian pulled away, a strand of glistening saliva connecting them both. “This… disgusting form does have its benefits.”

“Oh, honey, there’s nothin’ disgustin’ about ya.” He reassured, running his fingers through his lover’s salt-soaked hair.

“I would argue otherwise.”

“Hush with that kind of talk.”

“I would prefer it if you did. You are killing the mood with your sappy words, as per usual, Dell.” He uttered tenderly, his tone giving away that he didn’t mind it at all, and that just maybe, it was comforting to hear.

“Ya know I can’t help it.”

“Evidently not.” He crawled on top of him, gently pressing his weight down onto him. “Shall we get on to the main event?”

“You’d ought to be gentle this time, I’ve got to go back into the field tomorrow, and I don’t want to have to explain why I’m laggin’ behind to the boys again. I’m runnin’ out of excuses.”

“Tell them the truth,” He said. “They’re working you much too hard, and you’re suffering for it. That way they might think to give you a chance to rest.”

“And then I can come and see you again while I’m s’posed to be restin’.”

“Exactly. It works out quite well for you.”

“And for you.”

He smiled, in that guilty yet pleased way of his. “Conveniently, yes.”

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luminashdawnwing · 8 months

Text

August 2023 DWC Day 5: Wanderlust / Violation

The wind whipped Theras’ mane of red hair behind him, the leather strip tying it back torn free and lost somewhere on the breeze as he plummeted along the cliff face and towards the rocky shoals, the white, frothing waters of the ocean below, clinging for dear life to the rough-scaled neck of his drake. Until today, he had never ridden anything more daring than a tame dragonhawk!

He couldn’t help but let out a scream – a whooping mix of utter, joyous abandon, and utter, paralyzing terror – as the drake spread its wings and sent the pair hurtling back into the air just as the elf began to feel the salt spray of the sea on his face, sun catching the beads in his hair. As he lifted into the air again, his stomach settled and he basked in the light of the sun overhead, looking out over the expanse of the Waking Shores below, the red of the canyons broken by splashes of lush green. It was more, in fact, than he had imagined: more thrilling, more terrifying, and above all other concerns, more liberating. Never before had he felt so far and yet so connected to the world. He wasn’t sure he would want to go back after this.

He guided the drake – relying as much on his own meager skill as a rider as the young dragon’s own intuition – between towering red mesas as they headed inland. Valdrakken, where they had started, had long faded into the distance, only the hazy outline of Thaldraszus’ mountains remaining behind him.

Somewhere back there, nestled in the valleys, were all the worries and fears and the problems they caused, but here, there was none of it. Theras could breathe so freely, he understood at last exactly why his father could scarcely stay in the city, or even in Quel’Thalas. Of course the sting of those long absences lingered, but if this is what the world held, he could understand the wanderlust that overcame him. That was overcoming Theras now.

He pulled to the left on the reins, and his drake followed, then up, and they shot into the air again, skimming near sun-warmed stones and up past the mesas, towards the great green plateau of the Ohn’ahran Plains. Before long, the ground below turned lush and green, with waves of grass rippling across it as if across the expanse of the sea. Still, the hazy blue mountain outline of Thaldrazsus loomed, yet it held no trepidation for the ranger now; all his cares had flown away, fluttering in wild winds down to the earth below, lost in the beauty of the moment.

Specks in the distance below moved across the sea of green, Maruuk hunters tracking their prey, a herd of what must have been mammoths based on their size from so high up. The spear slung across Theras’ back felt heavy in that moment, a desire to join their hunt, the joy of tracking, the chase, rising in his chest. For the span of a breath, he considered guiding his drake towards the ground, letting himself run utterly free, the shackles of expectations shattered, but thought better of it. The sun had moved too much in the sky, the shadows below beginning to grow long. Besides, there would be other hunts. His own, not hurling himself into another’s.

Though he regretted it, he pulled left on the reins again, guiding his companion back towards the mountains, back to the problems of the world, into those shackles waiting for him, waiting to lash him to the ground. He knew, though, just like his father, that with this taste of utter freedom, he would be able to step out of them again.

That, and he could certainly take the long way back.

@daily-writing-challenge

#augustdwc2023 #augustday52023 #luminashdawnwing

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loud-brain · 3 months

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Some thoughts on lake ice resilience and global warming

Monday, January 29th 2024 College Library overlooking the seemingly almost unfrozen Lake Mendota - Madison, WI 1:26pm

__________

I sat here because I wanted a closer look at the lake. From a far it looks completely melted, blue as late spring and still as late fall on the only day with sun and absolutely no wind to make the surface all choppy, from a distance the lake is a blue plate of jello, a watercolor pallet, matte blue-green with specks of white where maybe people had drilled holes for ice fishing or the wind pushed together two massive ice plates like continental margins being formed, little Himalayas among a flat green Tibetan plateau. From here up on the second floor of Helen C White it looks about the same. I can see a blue tent in the distance on the ice, though no other signs of human activity are present. I fear that the ice is too thin to walk on and no one wants to test it. Maybe the blue tent was a bold ice fisher who set up his tent a couple days ago and got hit with the unseasonably warm rainstorm that melted most of the snow on the sidewalks and roads and flushed salty runoff into the lakes, and sitting out there on one of these temporarily stationary tectonic plates floating atop increasingly warm and increasingly salty water masses felt like an increasingly bad idea.

Salt lowers the melting point of ice. This means that salty water can stay liquid even below 0 degrees Celcius. That’s the principle behind de-icing salt that suburban family dads dump on their sidewalks by the bucket-full. That salt dumped on the sidewalk does a good job of melting the ice there on the sidewalk but that salty water that results from melting sidewalk ice doesn’t simply disappear. The salt stays in the water, or the water dries and the salt evaporates and stays on the sidewalk until the next rainstorm or snowfall comes to interact with it and the melting point of water again, keeping the water in liquid form where it can flow more readily, always downhill and always to larger bodies of water like lakes and rivers and eventually oceans. That water flows downhill is among the most fundamental laws we know of. Salt flows with water is a corollary, which is important to remember when one feels bold enough to tempt fate and walk out on the beautiful but unquestionably unseasonably thin ice so one can experience that sublime solitude that frozen lakes offer. Salty lake water makes for a sublime frozen lake experience when said ice grows thin and one wrong step can mean a very cold and very quick death of hypothermia.

What happened to the owner of this blue tent way out there? Is he still sitting there inside the tent, bent over a hole in the ice, trying to remember what thickness the ice becomes unsafe to walk on? Or maybe the tent got abandoned during the rainstorm and refroze, deeper than before, into the lake when all that fallen rain turned back into ice overnight, as the air temperature dropped below the freezing mark one again? Such questions aren’t common this time of year, but its seems likely they’ll be more top of mind as the winters get warmer and our lake ice days grow shorter and shorter until one season, maybe 5 or 10 years from now, the ice never comes and the lake remains liquid for an entire year stretch, for the first time in millenia.

When was the last time this lake went a whole year without freezing? Has it ever happened? This lake is not that old. This lake was born out of the last glacial maximum, which peaked around 12,000 years ago. We’re still technically in an ice age, geologically speaking. Of course all the fossil fuel burning that releases greenhouse gases is making this transition happen much more quickly than it would have otherwise, but the average temperature now is still relatively cool compared to say 50k or 100k years ago. Is that correct? I actually don’t know. I sound confident but my timescale may be off. All I know is that the Holocene epoch has been characterized by lots of cold and ice and glaciers and frozen water, and the thousands of years that predated that epoch were warmer. But I also don’t think Lake Mendota existed before a 10,000 years ago, so it very well could have experienced an annual winter freeze every year of its 10,000+ year lifespan. Limnologists will know the answer to this, but I’m just speculating because that’s what I’m good at.

Someone is walking on the ice now. Looks like a student, a girl, wearing a white backpack and white puffy coat, shuffling along on the slick ice surface, jumping slightly and sliding with both feet now and then. She walks past a white patch, what looks like an ice fishing hole. She looks down into it, and I fear she will try to stand on the crystal clear frozen ice surface of the hole — assuming the hole is old enough to allow ice to form over its surface. Doing so would probably result in the girl breaking through the ice surface, given the mild air temperatures this past week. But she just looks down at it and then keeps shuffling. Others walk by on the lakeshore path, solid concrete and in no danger of breaking under human weight, or truck weight or boat trailer weight.

Concrete, the new and improved ice, the forever opaque ice. The unidirectional frozen water. What starts as a fluid, a slurry of rock and clay, becomes one big grey crystal in whatever shape you molded it. Unlike ice, concrete requires no specific temperatures for effective application. Though new concrete does like being sprayed down with a hose, or rain, every few hours for the first couple days after it’s been poured, just so it cures evenly and doesn’t crack. Ice cracks when it warms, and cracks when it cools, splinters and fragments musically when it comes together, the forces of two respectively lake-sized sheets of transparent concrete shoving up against one another under the force of wind and water currents underneath. Or sometimes the two ice plates will diverge, create a divergent boundary like Oldovai Gorge in Tanzania or the basin and range province of Nevada and eastern Californa. Two plates pulling apart leaving liquid between them, forming volcanoes and lava flows in the case of mineral rock and smooth ice skate-able glass water in the case of lake.

I might be overreacting, or maybe I’m showing my ice ignorance. It is true that climate change will make lake ice increasingly rare as temperatures get warmer. But I also do not know what thick vs thin ice looks like. I do not know what “normal” frozen lakes are supposed to do or what appearance they are supposed to project. I know that I am deeply deeply afraid of falling through thin ice into a 33 degree (F) body of water and flailing my arms and legs trying to scramble back onto the frozen surface and possibly burning my energy out or cramping my frigid muscles in the process and slipping back down into the deep dark icy depths to die. But I have also spent only four winters here in Wisconsin, several of them shortened by travels back to California in November or December to visit family in the much warmer locales of Los Angeles or San Diego or to Las Vegas, NV where winter temperatures can be in the 60s (F) without anyone really blinking. So my knowledge of lake ice is limited, and my perceptions shaped by my fears.

The blue tent I described earlier is now gone. I caught a glimpse of its owner walking back toward picnic point to the west, pulling a sled behind him/her. Very casual, no worries, just another day out on the lake. A third person is seen walking on the frozen surface, now bending down to inspect the plate boundary, white with broken pieces of ice crystal. They have a tripod set up next to them and they run back and forth sliding on the ultra smooth surface. Something I myself have done many times, though in much colder weather (if at the same time of year).

Perhaps the lake is not in danger of losing its ice cover just yet. It has only lost the white blanket of snow cover that usually sits on its surface, giving the appearance of a vast arctic tundra, solid as concrete and infinite as the planet itself. The albedo is lower now as little snow remains, and the light shining down from the sun penetrates the clear ice before being absorbed in the water somewhere several meters down, scattering blue-green light that bounces back up through the ice. This is what makes the ice appear so thin, makes it appear so (liquid) water-like. But appearances can be fooling. Caution is certainly still warranted and I may have to tread very lightly if I choose to venture out onto the lake in this comfortably disturbing late-January warm spell, but the lake system is more resilient than I perhaps gave it credit for. It will take much more than a few weeks of sup-freezing weather to transform the lake from its present state. But it can happen, and it may happen — likely will happen — someday. I hope I'm not standing on the lake surface when it does.

#climate change #frozen lake #lake mendota #madison wisconsin #loudbrain

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alexandriasgarden · 9 months

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A sickly, acrid scent mixes with the overpowering salt of the ocean. Dirty, foamy waves crash together, spraying onto the man's face. He retches, again. As his hands grip the railing, his balance compromised, he wonders if he might fall into the water below. Seasickness may be one thing, but he also cannot swim. That he should find himself on the ocean, then, is quite the event. He has spent all of his life on land, and most of that working at the university. He is an astronomer, and the whalers have dragged him here to peer at the sky.

The night sky in Net is a beautiful thing. Up, far above the reach of any living thing, stars twinkle and shift as though travelling through an invisible river. They fade in and out, forming shapes and drawing paths upon the inky black firmament. The astronomer often imagines ancient men, seeing the same sight as himself. Mortal, fleeting eyes catching their own glimpse of that outer place, tracing the steps of its dancers in search of some truth beyond earthly matters. He wonders if their gods were the same as his.

The sea finally calms, and night falls soon after. The astronomer does not eat, and does not sleep. He stays, laid flat upon the deck of the ship, looking at the stars above. He holds a notebook in his hands, one of many he has filled with recordings of the stars. He writes of their myriad behaviors, painstakingly ordering and categorising in the hope of finding some sense among the patterns. This night, he sees nothing new. An hour passes, and then another. The astronomer charts the course of the stars in his inscrutable personal shorthand, recording as much as he can see before exhaustion takes him from the waking world. If there is something special about the sky in this place, he does not see it tonight.

He wakes up having been moved to his quarters by (no doubt) one of the mute seamen. The crew holds a superstition against speaking out on the water. They still grunt and cry out, and do not flinch at the crash of dropped rigging or the peal of the dinner bell. It is something about the words, they tell him. They beget horrors, and from the horrors blooms madness. The astronomer feels mad enough from the swaying of the ship, but does not argue. He fears being thrown to the waves far more than he loves the spoken word. The sailors wouldn't have much to tell him anyways. Their attention is focused solely on their whale hunt, unaffected by the astronomer and his starstruck writings.

On the second night, the astronomer spies an entirely new shape. Streams of light undulate through the sky, many short pieces aligned within some unseen order. They, like the stars, flicker in and out of sight, irregular in form. Some leave trails of fleeting stars in their wake, drawing transient dotted lines across the void. Others appear to weave themselves into the backdrop, appearing like children's stitches through a deep black cloth. The astronomer stands up from his supine post and looks across the ocean. In the surface of the water, he finds the light of the stars reflected, warbling with the constant movement of the waves. The threads of light are reflected, too, likewise distorted and chopped up by the water's surface. He finds their beauty lost through the lens of reflection, their nature obscured through alteration. Beneath them, the astronomer spies a different constellation of lights, smothered by the ocean surface rather than reflected in it. They are blue, and twinkle like the stars above, on and off, in and out of sight.

The next day, like the previous, passes inconsequentially. The astronomer is not concerned with the affairs of daylight lest they relate to the stars. He sits in his cabin and ponders the threads of light. They offer little answer for him, much like the cold, distant stars he knows so well. Some times he imagines the lights of the night sky to be the drawings of gods. Not the abyssal gods of man, but new, different gods. Above rather than below. Ageless and ineffable, deigning not to even touch the affairs of mortal creatures. Leaving trails of stars, that they might guide any other gods to their heavenly palace. Other times, he imagines them to be animate creatures. Living spirits of light, casting about, back and forth, inscrutable, unthinking. Their patterns' meaning invented by the wishful minds of every astronomer before him, and every astronomer to come.

The ship, like all reputable vessles, carries with it a unique passenger. She is a sealed one, her body obscured by reams of layered gossamer fabric etched in countless overlapping runes. She makes no sound as she moves, somehow muting the rustling of her robes, and does not speak, even on land. Upon her face hangs a single piece of paper, upon which she writes her words. She approaches the astronomer today with a message. Her face paper reads

"The Fabric here is thin."

When he has finished reading, as if knowing his mind, the text on the paper begins to change. The sheaf folds without moving, betraying a great depth beyond its paper-thin form. As it folds, more words appear. They are not written upon the paper as much as slipping onto the surface as though they had always been there.

"Pray that it does not tear."

Silent and prescient as before, the text disappears once it is read, with the same mind-bending not-motion. The astronomer opens his mouth, but the sealed one has already turned away from him. She retreats into the lower decks, the wind whipping at her garments.

This night, the astronomer has eyes only for the ocean. He has been entranced by the false stars beneath the waves, and begins to write about them. They flit about, as if to entice creatures above the water. There are many kinds, or so he thinks, and he begins organising them, first by shape, and then by brightness, and then by their blinking patterns. They are totally unlike the stars above. The astronomer leans over the edge of the railing to get a better view. He sees that the lights also have depth, some farther down than others, some climbing or sinking as they travel. He leans further, looking closer, forgetting the placement of his body and the crack of the railing until-

He falls into the water. He sinks, and holds his breath, and does not close his eyes. He wants to see the lights under the waves. He sinks, deeper, consumed by the allure of submerged will-o-the-wisps. They encircle him, filling his vision with a chaotic, disorienting dance. He has lost sight of the surface, not that it matters. Far, far below, more lights manifest like whispers from the deep. The astronomer no longer feels cold, or wet. He does not feel the weight of the water pushing down on him. He feels, instead, as though his body has flattened compared to the world around him.

The space around him flexes, like a sheet being fitted over a bed. The astronomer wonders where he left his notebook. In his cabin? He should have brought it with him when he decided to take this venture, he thinks. He can't remember what he was doing. The warp and weft of the space around him are gone. He can't feel his limbs. As his consciousness drifts, he sees, for the first time, something that was always there. A mass in the darkness, nondescript, but large in an impossible way. A massive eye opens, and within it are hundreds, thousands, of equally massive eyes. All staring, all watching. The astronomer opens a mouth he does not have in order to scream, and infinite inaudible sounds emerge. Behind him, if the word "behind" means anything, the ocean waters rush to fill a space that never existed.

In the morning, the crew find his notebook on the deck of the ship. The side railing is broken, and his body is nowhere to be found. The sealed one is called upon to perform the burial rites. She performs her ritual unceremoniously, and pockets the astronomer's notebook before returning below deck. Four days hence, when the ship returns to port with its usual catch, there is no waiting party for the astronomer. How could there be? The university has not had an astronomer in decades.

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wheezyswheeloffortune · 1 year

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Have you ever stumbled upon a memory so deeply ingrained into your core that you almost feel silly recounting it? A memory that you shouldn’t have at all? Like the first time your mother ever uttered the words “I love you” or your first tooth? My core memory is the first time my feet ever touched sand, water washing them over and over until small specks caught between my toes that would then slip back into shoes that you take home with you, a simple reminder that She is everywhere.

I don’t remember the events of that day. I don’t even remember what I wore. I do remember, the smell of salt carried in the wind as it blew over my small head. The gentle droplets of water kissing my skin, I remember my mother holding my hand as my tiny mind dared to guide me closer to the big waters stretching out before me. She feared that I could get lost in the waves I suppose, slowly pulled out so far where no one could reach me. I was thrilled at the idea. I wanted adventure. My brother did too but he was bigger than me, so he could kiss the waves and hug the shores as much as he wanted. I wished to be bigger. I wished to kiss the waves and hug the shores.

Digging my feet into the sand was all I could do to withhold myself from intrusive thoughts. Mother would eventually carry me into the water. It was cold, waking every cell in my body sending adrenaline coursing through my veins, I laughed. I kicked and splashed and laughed until having to say goodbye until next time.

I can recall the emotions from that day. Emotions I believe carried over into my every day life. I remember sadness and calm washing over me all at once before settling into bed for the night and promising to myself that I’d return to that beach. To that moment.

Right now I am uncertain of how that memory would impact me. If it would break me or make me stronger. Anytime I close my eyes and began to replay it my mind is over taken by melancholy and dread. Dark clouds replace the partly cloudy and sunny skies, my anchor is gone and the wind has a much harsher bite to it. I talk to my ancestors at night. When the air is crisp and my surroundings are quiet. I look to them for answers, I search among them for familiar faces and when pulled back to reality, when I resurface I am disappointed to return empty handed.

I grasp blindly at waves hoping to pull from it a memory with you in it that doesn’t feel so bittersweet. Maybe one where we can coexist as I am now. With all of my flaws and all of my anger and regret, with my scars and doubts I hope that you will not look at me any differently than you had on that sandy shore where we created my most brain altering core memory. With my hands bruised and bloodied I hope that you’ll hold them with the same care and love as you had before.

I always wanted to be just like you.

But not in the ways you’d think. I could do without the weight of a crown, the burden of a kingdom on my shoulders and the whole world watching me. No I wished for your courage. I wanted my mind to be as pure and impenetrable as yours. To be calm as that ocean the day I watched you become one with its endless blue. I wished…to have a heart like a warrior, and the spirit of one too. There was so little time to learn from you, I fear now looking back on the years we spent together Black Panther. My brother.

I’ll always cherish the moments we stole, the time we took back and the days we spent kissing waves and hugging shores. I never quite felt big enough, even now, but you never made me feel small. You lent me your strength and fearless. You let go of my hand and allowed me to wade through deep blues on my own with the knowledge that I’d always return.

Like you. Like you always would. And when I watched you drift away, further and further until you were but a small spec in that endless ocean blue, I realized something awfully dreadful. You were supposed to return. And yet…you didn’t. I can only assume, that the waves were far too big for you this time.

filter creds; 616frost on insta!

#black panther #shuri of wakanda #wakanda forever #shuri #solo #character blog #charactersolo #wheezyswheeloffortune #writer things #shuri udaku #black panther wakanda forvever spoilers #spoilers

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serzhantkris · 2 years

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Haunted- 21

Summary: He knew, from the moment he found her there, bathed in the glow of fire, that she would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Damon Salvatore x Reader

Masterlist

Taglist Open

Word Count: 2755

1889

He wrote to her every week. He was always moving, never staying in the same place for too long. He kept count of the days by the letters: sent one as soon as he took up residence in the home of a compelled farmer or baker, regent or banker, so she would have an address to respond to. When he received her letter at the end of a long, torturous week of waiting, he moved on.

She responded with urgency. It was never more than ten days, sometimes less. He tried to stay close, at first, moving in a circular motion around Chicago until he was beckoned by something that drew him further away from her. Ten days was too long, but he kept his patience by keeping himself busy with other socialites and their liquor. After ten long, restless days, he’d received the letter he had been waiting for and purchased a ticket to France— the furthest he’d been since the letters began.

You were correct when you claimed I had no desire to be a housewife, for I find myself entirely bored in the world outside of your letters.

I have woven a tale in my mind from your stories, and imagine the sights and sounds of your world when I find myself rather lowly. It is your letters that fuel my eager heart, and flood my mind with whimsy. Please write the moment you are able, for I fear I may grow restless without your pen.

Sincerely yours,

Y/n

Waves lapped gently against the side of the boat, caressing its face like a lover. Damon’s fingers gripped the edges of the letter, tight enough that it would not slip away and be lost to the sea, but gently enough to keep the page from wrinkling. The ink was dark blue and scrawled slowly, and he could imagine her sitting at a writing desk, carefully choosing her words. It always seemed that way, that she was cautious. Whatever she said had to last him until his next letter.

The breeze of the sea swept through his curls, filling his nostrils with salt and a sweetness only the ocean could provide. It reminded him of her: the perfume dotted on her wrists, the alkaline taste of sweat from her brow.

She was an ocean away, but memories of her flooded him, threatening to drown out the sway of the boat as it carried him further and further from the states. Every time he would put the thoughts away, something about the ocean, about the way the sun warmed his face like her smile, always brought her back to the forefront of his mind.

It would be two weeks before his letter would make it across the sea and to her door. He knew this, though his letter to return to her had been sitting in his pocket since that morning. He had half a mind to find a bottle and toss it, thinking perhaps it would find her sooner, and the sooner she read it, the sooner she could write him back. But the sea, much like Y/n, was always changing, unpredictable, and he carefully folded his latest letter from her and tucked it carefully into his breast pocket, close to his heart. Leaning forward, his elbows rest on the rail of the boat, and he closed his eyes, letting the sway of the boat carry him further and further away from her.

***

Damon was in France. That was the latest you’d heard, nearly some two weeks ago. He had been there for quite some time, was fancy of it, judging by how long he had been there- and how long his letters had gotten. It was as though he were falling in love with the city, with the way his pen moved across the page with such vigor. It delighted and astounded you, how he had gotten so quickly accustomed to the country of love.

It had not occurred to you that the lengthy letters were a result of his longing to be where you were, or the fact that he was able to write to you so seldomly. If the letters were only to come every fortnight, he was damned if they wouldn’t be worth it.

You responded in kind, though you took your time, sitting at the drawing desk while Christopher was away. You had spent more and more time in his office, watching the breeze shake the elm trees outside your window. Summer was upon Chicago, the trees in full bloom as the wind carried stray leaves across the streets. You could see the pavement from here, could watch as lovers and mothers held hands as they strolled up and down the block past your house.

You had been hoping for quite some time that perhaps someday you would look out the window and see Damon, looking up at you with his hand over his eyes to shield the June sun, the lopsided grin painted on his lips. It was a perfect picture in your mind, an array of golden light spilling on a canvas, with Damon standing dark against the flurry of summer color. You’d lift your skirts, hurrying down the swooping stairs and into his arms. He could take you away, perhaps show you all the amazing and wonderful things he wrote to you about from Paris.

-It is a strange country, with customs I had never encountered before. I cannot say much for the food, but the people I encountered reminded me too much of the Sisters of your church. Though they are a haughty and proud people, they engaged in social customs not unlike those of lovers. Did you know that the French routinely kiss one another on the cheek as a greeting? Perhaps when I see you next I will show you. Seeing you blush would be greatly worth my short venture to the country.

Yours,

Damon

The notion of Damon’s words was not lost on you. There was something tender about the curls of his letters, the softness in his words that suggested more than a customary kiss on the cheek. Reading it was enough to warm your cheeks, just to imagine the gentle press of his lips against your skin. Perhaps you were reading something that wasn’t there, or maybe you had convinced yourself his suggestion was merely a jest because the idea of it being more was enough to raise the ever steady beat of your heart.

There had been a gift with this letter. It was heavy for its size, approximately the length of your palm and flat, circular on one side and straight on the other. He’d written about it in the letter, but even as you delicately unfolded the satin fabric it was encased in, it brought a flutter to your heart.

It was, as he’d written, carved of ivory. Just a hair away from white, the hair comb was beautifully made, clearly done with a steady, patient hand. The teeth were sharp and thin, like a mouth of fangs, and your fingers slid along the bottom of it to feel each individual one. The top was smooth, with flowers intricately carved into the sides. It was thin but not brittle, and you let the satin fabric fall to the table as you stood, crossing the room toward the mirror. Carefully, you tucked it into your hair, unable to hold back the eager grin as you turned your head back and forth to observe it in the mirror.

Damon had always given you gifts. The stuffed rabbit was tucked away in your closet, gathering dust, as was a well-worn copy of Brahm Stoker’s Dracula; a gorgeous, bronze locket laid at the bottom of your jewelry box. You had kept them all, refused to let go of any of the mementos from the life you lived before you met Christopher Taylor.

Christopher…

Your heart ached as you crossed back to the table, sliding quietly into the chair. The pen was heavy in your hand, seeming to weigh your whole body down as you etched Damon’s name at the top of the page. You may well have written the letter in blood, for how much it hurt. The smile on your lips waded until there was very little left on your cheeks, and your hand stopped moving altogether, the pen dropping heavily on the desk as you grabbed up the letter, crushing it into a ball and tossing it into the bin. Sighing, you stood up, pacing toward the window, letting yourself daydream of Damon, standing beneath the elm tree.

***

Damon hadn’t slept in days.

He had reread her latest letter probably a hundred times, his eyes scanning her every word in an attempt to make some sort of sense of the words. He knew what they meant, had committed each word to heart, but it didn’t seem to matter how many times he tossed them around in his head.

Gentle Damon,

Your gift brought tears to my eyes, and I cannot thank you enough for it. I kept it carefully by my bedside, and when my dear Christopher discovered it, I told him it was a family heirloom. Either a mistake or brilliant on my part, he suggested I wear it during the ceremony tomorrow. I laughed at the notion, but agreed with fondness I cannot explain.

He tried to imagine her, sitting at the vanity in a vast bedroom, the comb in her hair as she looked at her reflection. It would be beautiful, of course, because she was beautiful. He could see her clearly, the elegant curve of her jawline, the apple of her cheeks, and the sparkle in her eye as she adjusted the comb with delicate fingers.

The ceremony tomorrow.

Her letter was dated nine days ago. Nine days had gone by since she had written the letter, longer than that since he had sent the comb. How long had she pondered her words to him? How many times had the comb sat in her hair, or at her bedside?

She was married, now. No doubt she had been gorgeous- Christopher Taylor was a fairly wealthy man, and would have made sure she had the best dress, and the best attendants to her wedding money could afford. She would have worn satin, or silk, something expensive and flowery. He wondered if her sleeves were long and lace, if she had worn heels in which she could not walk- he smiled to himself, imagining her frowning down at her feet as she stumbled down the aisle.

He grit his teeth, pushing the hair back from his face with a shaky breath. He had made it to Versailles- a beautiful city, no doubt, but the brilliant architecture was lost on him now. Without her there, it was just another city.

Yes, she would have been beautiful. Christopher was undeserving of her beauty, and knowing what he knew about Y/n, he was far too lucky for such a bride.

I have many trepidations for the morning. The dress Christopher had chosen does not feel like my dress, as though the bride to be wearing it is a woman I have yet to meet. She is a timid woman, a dutiful woman, and her life does not seem to be mine. Still I prepare myself as we speak, brushing my hair at the vanity in my room. My reflection is unfamiliar, my cheeks plasticine and my smile painted upon my face.

Was the woman now married to Christopher the same woman he knew? Her letters were so full of her personality, so clearly filled with her life, that he had not considered before what she was like beyond the page. She had been happy, in the years they had lived together in a cabin, her smile wide and unwavering, and it put an ache in his heart to think that perhaps she did not smile like that anymore.

As he walked down the French streets, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, he saw pieces of the girl he knew in every direction. The flowers smelled of her, the laughter echoing from a group of schoolgirls sounded like her, but she was sweeter and her voice was more akin to music- and it was this that caused him to pause at the end of the street, his eyes trained on a passing carriage.

I think to the moment I saw you last, and your jest that I should marry you instead, and cannot fathom a moment which I regret more.

Damon cursed under his breath, his hands tightening into fists in his pocket. The realization hit him all at once, like the sun spilling on his face, like the cool breeze kissing his face not unlike her touch in the cemetery. He could almost hear her voice, whispering the words of her letter in his ear. A secret, a confession meant only for him.

I will think of you and your letters as I slumber, and dream of France and Transylvania, and a silly, imagined life in which I joined you on your train to another land.

It was unmistakable. He had always loved her- like Mina, she was a light in Damon’s otherwise foggy, dark world. He had traveled it alone, setting foot in countries most only ever dreamed of. He had never met anyone like her before and never had since leaving her behind. He longed to be with her, with her open mind and uncaged humor. He had been lonely when he met her, but coming home to her in the early morning hours of her youth had always warmed his heart. Her letters were all he had now, the only connection he had to the living world that he so desperately craved to be a part of. She was pure and good, a sign that perhaps there was, indeed, a Heaven, even if he only felt it in her presence.

Yes, he loved her, and what was more than that, a sentiment he had never foreseen, was that he was in love with her.

His feet stomped through a puddle, disrupting the stillness of it as he marched back towards his housing. Words tumbled through his mind like a storm at sea, the admission of his love weighing heavy at his breast.

***

The days had passed like a burning candle. Hours melted away, slowly dripping as the sun rose and fell, and as the summer trees began to bare themselves to winter, your dreams of Damon beneath the elm tree began to die with them. You eagerly awaited his letter, always intercepting the post before Christopher returned home in the evenings. But it didn’t come, even as the grass turned brown and the skies gray, and the longer you waited, the heavier your heart became.

Christopher had not noticed your silent suffering. He had spent long hours at his office, leaving you wandering the halls of your home alone. When he returned, he was prone to find himself in the study with a glass of bourbon, ignoring the need in your eyes as he passed you by. It was as though he were a ghost, a cold whisper of the man who had wooed you in the spring. There was nothing left of his humor or wiles, and with each passing day, resentment settled into your bones.

In the few moments where words were exchanged, Christopher’s colors were a muted gray. He frowned at your half-hearted jokes, and chastised you in the moments where you felt empowered to share your fancies with him. Reading was not a woman’s place, for it filled your head with fantasies of what Christopher attributed to the Devil’s work.

It had begun to snow, as well, which put an even stauncher limitation on your freedoms. You could not go for walks, and sending for books had become costly. And so you were left with an ivory comb and a frosted window, sitting at the vanity with a pen and blank parchment.

Damon had not returned your letter. The passing months had gotten colder, and he had no doubt gotten further away, but if you did not at least try to reach out in the only way you knew how, it would be a sure sign that you had simply given up on happiness. So you pressed the pen against the page, tracing the shape of a familiar name.

Dearest Damon,

The world is dark here…

@allinhishands @navs-bhat @lordofthunderthr @suspiciousmuffin @hereforsumbucky @simonsbluee @cheeseman @definitys @hopefulexpertpatrolclod

#some tags arent working :(#damon salavatore #imagine #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore x you #haunted

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