#gasping for air like a fish on dry land

[bettyfrommars]

I need to know what you think about finding a dark siren Eddie Munson. Maybe he got hurt and washed up on the shore? You’re immediately his mate and he loves you very much even though he’s never been near a human. Very much I hate everyone but you vibes for our bloodthirsty friend.

Boyfriend From the Deep

darkSiren!Eddie x Reader

dark siren Eddie art

18+ONLY, smut, some monsterfuqqing, mention of gore, mention of throwing up, visit from Murray & Hopper, mention of reader's life not going well, AFAB Reader, love at first sight, soulmates, merman!Eddie. wc: 3k

A/N: Another request I was really excited to sink my teeth into. My hope is to continue this eventually, taking inspiration from the 1984 film Splash. Looking forward to what y'all think of darkSiren!Eddie, thank you for indulging me.

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Eddie choked and coughed as the wave crashed over him, forcing his eyes open with a gargled gasp.  He was pinned up against a rocky ledge, half of his body on the sand and the other half in the frigid water.  All of a sudden, he felt sick, and began retching clear bile into the sea.  He didn’t like breathing the air, he wasn’t used to it, and it caught in his throat like a feather–tickling—until he coughed and retched again.  The gills on the sides of his neck sputtered, flapping open like vents, drying out, trying to conform to the new way of breathing.

It was then that he became aware of the dull ache at the back of his head, and with trembling fingers, he reached back to test the spot with a cringe and a hiss.  He checked to find that his fingertips were bloody; he must’ve knocked his head on one of the sharp rocks during the transformation.  How badly was he wounded? Would be a shame to survive the journey to human form only to die on the beach and rot like a bloated fish.  

He braced his hand, fingers digging into the sand, and flicked his hips to swish his tail to get him unstuck, but then two legs kicked out from his hips, stuck in a fisherman’s net, and it startled him, making him slam his head into the rock again.  He winced, eyes squeezing shut, whimpering a bit at the sting of the impact as the saltwater splashed up to his knees and misted his face.  

This was Eddie’s first time back to land in over a decade.  Mostly because he loathed humans.  He loved to lure them to their deaths, he loved to watch from under the water as their ships sank so that he could feed on their fear, curling the sound waves of their screams into his belly like sweet nectar. 

He twisted, trying to be free of the rough ropes that cut into his skin, but he was weak, and he wasn’t sure how much blood he’d lost.  He was stuck there now, for 7 days and 7 nights, and he thought maybe he’d just find a way to stay hidden…

….until he saw you.

It was rare for you to be up at the crack of dawn, unless it was due to the fact that you hadn’t slept at all, which was a regular occurrence.  Long, restful sleeps that lasted hours were just a myth to you, ever since you’d watched your life go down the toilet.  A breakup, a death in the family, getting fired from your job; all of it happened all at once, and you were still reeling, teetering at the edge of the abyss.

You were all alone in the world, but for your dog, Louie, and the modest cottage you were renting for a week off the Oregon coast.  The beach house was tucked back in the woods, and it didn’t even have a TV, so flipping it on to watch the early morning broadcast or some cartoons to relax your brain was not an option. The radio would have to do, and the first song that came on when you flipped the dial was Brandy by Looking Glass.  You hummed along to it as you plucked Louie’s leash off the sofa and attached it to his collar.  He was a medium, handsome, mixed-breed boy that you’d rescued from the side of the road as a puppy.  Part corgi, part border collie, part…dalmatian? You weren’t entirely sure.  

“He came on a summer's day

Bringin' gifts from far away

But he made it clear he couldn't stay

No harbor was his home

The sailor said, ‘Brandy, you're a fine girl 

What a good wife you would be 

But my life, my love, and my lady is the sea”

It was exceptionally chilly for an August morning, making you bundle in a hoodie and boots for the trek out to the beach.  Louie was practically foaming at the mouth to get out there for his run, and since your area of the beach was fairly secluded at that time of morning, you unhooked his leash where the dirt path met with the sand, and he bolted into the fog toward the ocean like a shot.  There was a wet mist lingering in the air, like salty, seaweed-scented kisses that made you squint against the bright gray hues turning blue with the rise of the sun.  A few seagulls squawked and swooshed overhead, diving down to perch on a large piece of driftwood, and you waved to them, as if they’d showed up just to say hello to you.

You faced the vast expanse of ocean and crashing waves with a mix of awe and defiance, challenging it silently with a lift of your chin.  Your reverie was rudely interrupted by Louie’s alarm bark, somewhere deep in the mist. 

You followed the sound, walking blind until you caught sight of the jutting rocks at the base of a cliff, and the shrill of Louie’s distress signal was getting further away.  Your feet picked up speed, stumbling for purchase in the soft, wet ground as you called for him, a bit of panic stroking your heart.  Why did it feel like you were about to start crying? An avalanche of unfelt emotions gathered in your throat as you called for your loyal companion.  

But there he was, finally, sitting facing the rocks, tail wagging side to side, making a fan-shape in the sand, basically ignoring you as you collapsed to one knee, cursing, clutching your chest.  

You mumbled a whole conversation to him as you snapped the leash back in place and got to your feet.  You tried to guide him in the other direction, but Louie was transfixed on something a few yards ahead, and it took your eyes a moment to adjust—but then you saw it.  A hand, slightly webbed between the fingers, appeared from around the black rock, digging into the sand, and then another hand gripped the tan earth further along, as if someone were trying to pull themself along by their arm strength alone.  The wrists were covered in jewelry that looked like they were made of shell and bone; the forearms tattooed in dotted, swirling black ink patterns.  

You were too stunned to scream, mouth hanging agape.  You urged Louie back to shield him with your legs.  You saw the long, dark hair next, pooling over bare, tattooed shoulders; it was messy and unkempt, littered in bits of fauna and a few empty clam shells, one side matted with blood.  

Before your brain could throw the alarm that this might be dangerous, you were already speaking.  “A-are you alright? Do you need me to get help?”

That was when his head snapped up, and wide, all-white eyes regarded you with malice, lips curling back to expose a mouth full of pointed teeth.  He growled at you, and Louie growled back, but then, after a second, the monster's face softened.  The milk white eyes behind tendrils of hair shifted to brown, human irises, and he cocked his head a few times at you, as if trying to understand what you had just said.

You should have fainted.

You should have turned and run screaming in the other direction.

But, for some reason, neither one of those even occurred to you.  

You came around to get a better look at him, down along where the water lapped at your boots, and took in the rest of his body; he was tangled up in a crude net from the waist down.  He wore a necklace that appeared to be made of intricate fish bones and coral, and shark tooth earring dangled from his ear.  The tattoo patterns ran all along his chest, stomach, and legs.  You released Louie’s leash, and he sat right where he was told, while you crouched down to meet Eddie’s curious gaze that never strayed from you.

“Will you let me help you?” You asked.

Eddie was in love.

He never believed the stories he’d been told about the imprinting and immediate bonding that happened when you met your mate.  He wasn’t just any Merman, he was a Siren, and as a soldier of the dark forces of the sea, he figured he didn’t have time for frivolous things like romance.

But this took no time at all.

You were meant to be his, and he didn’t care who he had to kill to keep you.  

He studied your face as you worked to free the wet knot of seaweed tangles on the net, freeing his thighs from the heavyweight, gasping and averting your eyes at the way your touch made his cock twitch and swell.  You helped him to sit up, noticing what appeared to be gills on his throat and sides along his ribs.  His flesh was similar to that of a human, but also not.  It had a thick, rippled texture, like the belly of a snake, and it seemed to glow with a soft blue fluorescence.  His muscles were tight and lean, and he didn’t even bother to shiver as a cold wind made your teeth chatter. 

You told him your name as another seagull cawed overhead, and asked what you should call him.  

His eyebrows clenched together, tilting his head a few times, watching your mouth as you spoke.

“Do you speak English?”  You asked it in a cringe way, with a loud voice, as if a higher volume could break any language barrier.  

He brought his webbed hand up to touch your face, and you jerked away at first, but then you let his scaled knuckles graze your cheek, the legs of your jeans soaking wet now as you knelt there with what could only be described as a figment of your imagination. 

He spoke a word in foreign language, his voice a deep whisper.  You remembered how solid white his eyes had been before when he thought you were a threat, but now they were honey brown, almost cat-like in nature as they softly adored you. 

“I-I don’t understand,” you breathed, unable to comprehend the time it took for his mouth to find yours, to plant wholesome kisses, to taste you.

You might’ve been in love with him at that moment too, but your jaded heart refused to let yourself believe it.  

You did, however, feel the arousal blossom at your core as his tongue fluttered against yours, whimpering with a little click in his throat like a sea lion at the way you returned his kiss.

The urge to mate you, to officially make you his, was too strong for Eddie to take into regard any of the formalities of courtship.  Once your hand found his generous girth and began to stroke, encouragingly, that was all it took.

You skittered backwards up onto the semi-dry sand, unzipping your jeans and pushing them down to your ankles as you went, and Eddie followed, bracing himself on top so he wouldn’t crush you, desperate to find your mouth again. His powerful hips bucked against you, and you held him by the neck, begging for more while he spoke to you in that foreign tongue, staring into your eyes, willing you to understand him.  

Wanting you to know that no one would ever love you as much as he did; that he would be your one and only mate until the darkness took you both.  

The position felt awkward, but there was no time to take your boots off as your hole clenched the air, desperate to be filled.  You spun around to get on your hands and knees, and Eddie buried his cock balls deep in your wet heat with one swish of his muscular thighs, throwing his head back in a bark of triumph.  

You pushed back against him, needing him to move, to stretch you and own you with each push, your fingers clawing into the sand as you whined.  

Nearby, Louie cocked his head and tried to lift one floppy ear, but then he turned his face to the sea, trying to give you some privacy.

You’d never been fucked by someone as strong as this sea monster, and your whole body jerked and vibrated under the impact of his deep thrusts.  “Yesyesyes…oh fuck!”

It wasn’t long before Eddie clapped his pelvis flush to your ass and spilled inside of you, chanting foreign words, tilting his head to the sky, worshiping you with his offering.  He stayed locked there for a while, working his seed deeper with every stroke.  When he was done, he flipped you over with a feral urgency that sent sand into your eyes and nose, but you didn’t care, because now his mouth was on you.  

Your fingers sank into his matted hair, and that was when you felt the viscous patch and remembered he was bleeding.  His big, strong legs were a bit wobbly, and the thought occurred to you, for whatever reason, that he wasn’t accustomed to using them.  

But then Louie was barking in the other direction, and you both turned your attention to see a figure appearing from out of the mist.   A middle-aged man in a pageboy cap and a trench coat; he was already too close before you knew he was there, and he dropped the walking stick in his hand, his face frozen in shock and terror.  

Eddie smelled the foul human approaching and the familiar bloodlust roared in his veins. The fin on Eddie’s back bristled as he rose to a crouch with a ferocious growl.  You shuffled as far as you could against the rock, trying to pull your jeans up and cover yourself, not sure what to think of Eddie’s reaction.

Eddie bared his mouth full of sharp teeth in a sneer at the man, his eyes going completely white again.  A storm seemed to hit the beach all of a sudden at Eddie’s command, dropping down a gust of wind that rocked the waves and sent the man stumbling off his feet as if the world tilted on its axis, trying to hold his hat on against the force of it.  A low, rumbling wail came from somewhere deep in Eddie’s chest as you tried to shield your face from the whips of sand stabbing like tiny daggers in your flesh.  Eddie appeared to be sucking the life out of the man from his distance; the human’s body lifted up in the air and bent back.  You thought you heard something crack.  

It was only a matter of seconds before the man crumpled to the ground, unresponsive, and then Eddie settled, and so did the air around him.  After a few heartbeats, there were only the crashing waves and the birds once again, and Eddie’s head snapped to you, searching, making sure you were okay.

He held his arms out and you scrambled over, burying your head in the crook of his neck, letting him cage you, letting him have you.

Louie went over to sniff around at the man on the ground, wondering if he had any treats, and then he lifted his leg and let go of a stream of urine onto his shoe.

—-----

Murray Bauman slammed the paper onto Hopper’s desk, forcing a gust of wind into his face and a couple of yellow sticky notes to go flying.

Murray waited, hands on his hips, the door to the office wide open behind him.  Hopper took a deep inhale and flicked a few bored glances from the cover of the Seaside Review back up to Murray’s severe expression.

“Is this your way of telling me you're taking a vacation?” He guessed, shifting back in his squeaky chair.

“This,” Murray jabbed his finger in the direction of the paper.  “Is what I’ve been trying to tell you about.”

In the mood to humor his old friend, Hopper bent forward, furrowing his brow, taking a closer look at the headlines.  

Murray continued, pacing in front of the desk as he did so.  “Merpeople don’t exist? Well then, explain that to me.”

To the right, at the top of a long column and a sketch, was the headline: Reclusive artist survives a Siren attack on the beach and lives to tell: Merfolk exist.

Hopper cleared his throat.  “This is a drawing, Murray.”

Murray stopped his pacing, inclining his head, adopting a sarcastic tone.  “Notice anything familiar about that likeness, Jim? Does any part of it ring a bell? The white eyes, maybe? The teeth?”

“Sure,” Hopper picked the paper up and plopped it down, further away from him.  “It looks like Elvis.  Call The Inquirer.” 

Murray flopped in a chair facing the Chief’s desk with a huff.  He’d keep talking about it even if it fell on deaf ears because he knew he was right.  “The migration of the Sirens.  Enki, Poseidon, Amphitrite, the legend of the skin-shedding Merfolk who can walk on land for 7 days during a blood moon.  Humanoids.  Cannibals of the sea—-”

“Stop,” Hopper put his hand up palm out. “Just, stop. Is any of this supposed to make any sense to me? Why are you here? What have I done to deserve this?”

Murray rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, intertwining his fingers.  “The drawing should look familiar to you, Jim, because it’s just like the one I saw when I was a teenager, and three summers ago when I was on that death-trap Alaskan cruise.  I told you all about it.  I told you that I was—-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hopper interrupted.  “But again, I’ll ask—why are you coming to me with this? You think I’m going to arrest a fish?”

Murray rounded his shoulders.  "I know that Sirens exist, Jim.  There’s more than enough evidence out there, and I’m going to prove it to you, if not the world.” 

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #darkSiren!Eddie #merman!Eddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #Eddie Munson fanfiction #monster fucking #monsterfucker #monster smut #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader

[seoafin]

shoko x f!reader (main pairing); gojo satoru x f!reader x geto suguru 1.2k words; no warnings just general high school clownery!!! part of the summertime record series

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There's an unsettling feeling that creeps over you as you approach the door to your classroom. It's so potent that you pause for a second, hand lingering in the air before you slide the door open.

You take in the scene before you.

It’s an unusual sight, but you’ve come to realize that unusual has become the norm when it comes to your new classmates. Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru, two powerful jujutsu sorcerers who had taken to each other immediately, for better and for worse.

Geto is gripping Gojo’s wrist, pinning the white haired boy’s outstretched right arm to the desk, the weight of his body hunched over and leveled against Gojo's own to ensure he stays put. Gojo is struggling to use his remaining hand to pull his other one away, but it’s futile against Geto’s ironclad grip.

There is a knife in Shoko’s hand. A regular knife for food preparation that must have been swiped from the kitchen.

The knife is poised right above Gojo’s wrist.

"Let’s just—” Gojo’s voice pitches high, “wait wait wait wait—"

You stare.

Three gazes turn to you. Gojo’s sunglasses are askew on his face, face feverish with a rising panic.

"Ah, perfect timing." Shoko smiles pleasantly. You stare some more. Then in a perfectly amicable tone she gestures to the katana slung over your shoulder. “We're testing Gojo’s limitless. Can I borrow your katana?"

You wordlessly slide the sheath off your shoulder and hand it to her.

"Sell out!" Gojo condemns, squirming and floundering underneath Geto’s body. You observe that he looks like a miserable fish gasping for air on dry land.

Shoko turns to you, straight faced. "This is for science."

Despite the arduous task of restraining the aforementioned male, Geto only looks slightly winded as his lips curl into another perfectly pleasant smile matching Shoko’s own. “Please,” he says congenially, in a tone that would suggest anything but the cold blooded torture about the ensue. He nods at an empty seat in front of a spare desk. “Enjoy the show.”

“This is my hand we’re talking about—!”

A particularly bony elbow slams into Geto’s chest as you take a seat. Geto remains unfazed. You sit with a wide yawn in an attempt to chase away the last stubborn dredges of sleep.

"I can reattach it." Ieiri says. You can sense the flow of reverse cursed energy in her fingertips as she flexes them. She shrugs. "I think."

Gojo balks, whiter than a ghost. "O-kay. I'm sorry. Hear that Suguru? I said I'm sorry! I won't do it again!”

Even to your ears, it doesn’t sound particularly sincere.

Geto must come to the same conclusion, because he pretends not to hear.

The apologies take a sharp turn. “It’s not my fault you tripped like an idiot into that curse’s mouth—” 

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Geto interrupts. 

He turns to Shoko who holds your unsheathed katana with steady hands. Light dances over the blade, sharp enough that a stray finger on the flat edge could easily draw blood. It’s a beautiful blade, on loan to you from the Kamo family. Your favorite one out of the many that have passed your hands. Most katana users you’ve come to find, are particularly possessive over their blades, like they would a lover, but you think this one looks right at home in Shoko’s elegant hands.

Gojo eyes the prized blade as if it’s the evilest thing to have graced his presence. You know this because it’s an even worse, beadier look than the one he used to give you. Now he only looks at you as if he doesn’t quite know what to say to you now that the two of you have settled into a tentative kind of relationship-not-friendship. You don't miss his antagonism. It's a welcome change.

Shoko levels the sharp blade of your katana against Gojo’s long index finger, above the knuckle. In response, as a last resort, the fingers curl against the desk, ensuring a messy cut.

"Hm,” a slow smile spreads over her face. “A finger? Or the wrist?"

Geto's smile is merciless. It comes easier to him than you would have originally expected. "All of it.”

There’s a yelp. Something utterly incomprehensible leaves Gojo’s mouth. You think it could be his spirit ejecting itself from his body, floating into the air.

There’s a glint in Shoko’s eyes. "Roger that."

A rush of cursed energy fills the katana, imbuing it with malicious intentions.

There is no clear indication of the infinity shrouding Gojo’s body other than the presence of his cursed energy, but you know it has to be in effect because as Shoko furiously saws at the appendage, the blade never sinks into flesh. Sweat forms on Gojo’s brow as he stares intently at the portion of invisible space right above his wrist.

With bated breaths, the three of you stare.

The sawing stops. “Huh, it really doesn’t go through.” Shoko remarks flippantly, stepping away with a shrug. “A shame.”

Geto sighs, loosening his grip.

Gojo springs away with a shaky bark of laughter, too far away from Geto and Shoko and you to be anything but the intention to maintain a distance.

“Of course it wouldn’t have gone through,” he snaps. The relief is evident on his face as he straightens his wrinkled uniform. He waves an accusatory finger at the three of you. “Now you’ve all had your fun!”

Geto and Shoko look too disappointed, without any hint of remorse on their faces.

“Pfft.”

It slips from your mouth before you can help it. Your lips wobble despite your attempt to stifle the laughter growing in your stomach by firmly pressing your lips shut.

Your loud laughter envelopes the room as Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko stare at you, slack mouthed.

“I’m…” the remnants of laughter wrack your body, “sorry…” 

You hadn’t meant to laugh. You think it’s been a long time since you last laughed. 

Gojo’s usual black sunglasses have slid down the bridge of his nose, revealing the wide blue expanse of his eyes. “You laugh?”

“I do,” you answer seriously.

Then you smile widely. The motion is still unfamiliar to your lips but you find it’s a bit easier now. There are things to smile about now. The friendly shrine cats, the warmth of the sun on your skin when you settle down to take a nap, Shoko’s laughter. There’s a raised empty bed of soil in front of the dorms. No flowers or plants. Yaga-sensei had told you that the contractors had been recalled before anything could begin. Then he handed you a book on horticulture.

You don’t know much about plants or flowers or gardening, but you’d like to start.

“You’re dumb,” Shoko directs towards him as she takes the seat next to you. “And you,” Shoko says to Geto. “You’ll catch flies.”

Geto’s mouth snaps shut. You find that he doesn’t meet your eyes, but Shoko easily leans her head against your shoulder and you don’t think much of anything but the weight of her and how good she smells.

In the next second, Yaga-sensei steps into the class, and levels the four of you with a suspicious look.

“Class is starting,” he says, raising an eyebrow when he sees Shoko pressed close to you. Before he turns to the blackboard, you catch a glimpse of a smile. “The four of you in your seats.”

For the first time in a long time, you stay awake through a lesson.

#this was one of the very first things i wrote jjk centered like 2-3?? years ago wowwwwww #in celebration of the first ep tmmr! #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #ieiri shoko x reader #str #m.jjk

[thesmokingguns]

25 Hours a Day w/ Izzy Stradlin

Minors DNI 18+

“Want to go somewhere quieter?” His eyes were dark in the dim lighting of the bar. All onyx gleam against mine as he waited for my reply.

The world got quiet for a second as heat flooded my cheeks as I nodded your head, watching him stare for a second too long before closing out the tab, slipping his hand on my lower back as you stood up ready to go.

Izzy smelled like the woods after the rain, the wet pine and forgotten secrets mixed with the harder edge of city life, whiskey and tobacco, making him so distinct. You were wrapped in the scent of him as he guided you through the crowd towards where he had parked the 60’s Chevelle in a glossy black that must have cost a fortune.

Not that izzy seemed to bat an eye about money, it was just another thing he had.

A chill racked your spine, his thumb pressing into the bones, running it up and down as he opened the passenger door for you, leaning in as you bent to get in.

“Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up soon.”

He was shutting the door for you, moving to the drivers side before you could gasp or call him out for what he had just said to you. His words leaving you with your mouth gasping like a fish out of water.

This was only my first date with him, despite this strange feeling that I knew him from somewhere. A memory just scratching at the surface but I hadn’t been able to bring it to the top yet.

I was aware he was driving me to his place, unsure if I should say something to him about it but feeling the nervous energy pulsing through your body, tingling you between your legs as my clit swelled with need and the damp desire flooded the silk panties I had slid on earlier today.

That same sense of will he see them now making my heartbeat wildly?

Izzy reached over, his veiny hand laying on my knee, a collection of cool silver rings chilling my skin as he turned his palm, walking his fingers up the flesh of my thigh as a shattered gasp of shocked want filled the air. A terror filled me as I realized that pant of want had escaped my lips. It was my needy sounds in the car.

“It’s okay, violet.” My eyes went from where he was resting his hand high on your thighs. HIs fingers lazily stroking with a surety that you weren’t sure existed in a bone of your body.

Violet? That wasn’t my name.

“On your lower back you have a birthmark, all violet in color and looking as soft as the petals of a flower.” He explained the nickname when he saw your confusion, my blush rising as I wondered how he knew about the spot that would only be clear in your swimsuits.

Sure I had spent time at the pool but that had been during the summer, weeks ago now that autumn had fully settled its dry bones over Indiana. Plus Izzy had been in LA, only visiting home recently to visit his family.

How could he have seen it?

But that information he didn’t volunteer to me with words. Instead he looked at me at the redlight, unafraid to make me wiggle uncomfortable in his gaze. He knew his effect on people and still didn’t care. He watched me in a way that was familiar, like his eyes had been on me for months and now you just realized all those times your hair had stood on end, looking around to see who caused me the feeling, was in front of me.

He smirked as he watched me swallow, his left hand moving to cup my jaw, thumb pressing where I had swallowed and trailing it down.

“Do you know how gorgeous you are?” The whisper was raspy with need and your eyes widened at the way he was affected by you.

As quick as he was on me he was off, pressing the gas as he squeezed my thigh, roaring down the street and getting closer to his house.

Everyone in our hometown knew where Izzy Stradlin lived. It was an old colonial style with so much land that you couldn’t even see it from the road. The wrought iron gates had been snuck over by local kids trying to get a glimpse of their celebrity. It had gotten to a point that Izzy hired a guard, who was currently opening the gates for the two of you to drive in.

Izzy nodded at the man as he drove down the drive, turning around the circular drive as he parked the car in front of the house, giving my thigh one more squeeze before jumping out and striding confidently to my side and pulling open the door for me.

“Before you come in, little violet, I’m going to give you a chance to back out of this.” I looked at him, shivering as leaves made sounds of bones tumbling in the wind. Autumn was craving to be winter. “I’ll drive you back to your house. Or you can come in and spend the night with me. I’m warning you. Think about this because I’m not sure I’m going to be able to let you go after one night. You might have found yourself well and truly fucked, little violet.”

Blinking I felt my heart speed up. Izzy was 29, eight years older than me. We hadn’t known each other in school and didn’t have mutual friends. Us meeting had been strange. He had walked into my job at the law firm, where I did clerical work with some guy my mom had dated at one point, and asked if I would have dinner with him. When I had blinked, confused he had gone on giving me a time and asking me my address, which I gave to him without thinking.

Sure enough at 6:55 my mother was yelling at me that he was here, her energy as excited as mine. My mother had me when she was 16 which made us close in a way that all our friends had always been jealous of.

When I walked down the stairs, wearing the slinky back top that tied in the back and tiny little denim skirt  with strappy heels I had stolen from her closet she had told me to call her if I wasn’t coming home, making me burn like the sun as I threw open the door as Izzy walked up to meet me.

His eyes had widened as he stole a final drag of his cigarette, the cherry at the end burning as bright as his eyes as he looked at me as if I was the first girl he had ever seen. But he recovered quickly, holding out his hand as he helped me into his car and whisking me off to dinner and drinks.

And now I was in front of his house having to make a choice if I wanted to sleep with him tonight; I knew that was what was going to happen if I went inside with him.

“Can I use your phone?” he blinked, confused before smirking, recovering as he nodded his head, helping me inside his house.

I slid off the wool jacket I was wearing, letting Izzy take it as he motioned to where the phone was in the hall and mentioning he was going to go get us drinks.

Calling home my mother reminded me to have fun, knowing that she had taught me my whole life how to be safe. It was the fun part that she thought I didn't have enough of.

Slipping from my heels I groaned a soft sense of freedom as I returned to my height. Bare feet on cool wood floors quietly moved around until I was in the soft glow of a fire, watching Izzy carefully stroke it as warmth filled the room.

As a log cracked his eyes lifted from the flames to me, pausing as if he just remembered I was there with him and he wasn’t alone. The look was enough to make me dizzy with need as I moved into the living room further as he set down the poker, stepping to meet me.

His arms fit around my body in a way that felt like we had done this a thousand times before and not just tonight.

“You’re staying?” I nodded, my tongue suddenly heavy as I watched the way his lips lifted in the barest of smirks, “I’m going to kiss you now, little violet.” His fingers pushed back my hair as he got closer, not breaking eye contact with me, “And when I kiss you, everything is going to change.”

Before I could ask when he meant he was pushing a palm into my lower back to bring us flush together, his left hand tilting my chin up and cupping my cheek as he pressed his lips against mine in a possessive dominance that made my toes curl.

My hands slid up, over the black button down he had worn to clasp behind his neck, pushing myself up as I opened my lips, deepening the kiss that we were sharing. Heart thundering as Izzy’s tongue dragged along mine, our tastes becoming something new. Something that was distinctively ours.

It was delicious.

All at once it wasn’t enough, I needed more of him.

“We have a lifetime, little violet.” he warned as I pushed my hips against his , feeling the hardness he had for me.

“I want to start my lifetime now.” Izzy’s eyes flashed in desire before he was swooping me up, letting me wrap my arms around his waist as he spun us towards the couch in front of the fire, laying me down on the leather.

His body over me as he pushed against me, making me groan in need as I pushed up against him as he kissed me, claiming me and needing me. Our hips grinding against each other. Just his pants and my panties as a barrier.

But Izzy made quick work of all that, leaving us breathless and naked between kisses as his cock jutted, hard and leaking dots of precum that had me hungry for his cock. I wanted to taste him instead of letting it go to waste.

“I don’t want a barrier between us.” I should have told him that he needed to wear a condom but I didn’t want a barrier either. I wanted all of him. I wanted to see the way my body coated him with my wetness, to see how he looked covered in me.

“I’m on the pill.” He nodded, pushing the head into me as I felt the way my lips parted, hands searching for something to gasp as I looked down.

Both of us were staring, watching the place between my legs where our two bodies were joining together. Inch by inch he claimed me, pulling out to watch the way I made his cock glisten with my cum before burying himself back inside of me. Both of us are entranced by the beauty of our two bodies together.

“Fuck.” Hearing him moan for me made me look up from where our desire was fueled and to his face. The way he watched my body, how he looked like I was his euphoria. It made my stomach knot with need.

Reaching out, I stroked his cheek, his eyes flashing up as he looked at me, Izzy was lost in me. His eyes not holding that calm collectiveness that he had displayed. He was losing himself and it was because of me.

Tugging his hair I pulled his lips to mine, sitting up as I slid him deeper inside of me,rolling his hips so that he could get deeper inside of me. Filling me in a way that had me so full I wasn’t sure I would be able to walk after this.

He wasn’t even going that fast or hard, taking it easy as if each second he was inside of me was a time that needed to be savored and appreciated. He was engrossed with me, so wrapped up as we panted, letting out sounds that I hadn’t know were possible against each others lips as we moved together to music that our bodies were performing.

“You’re perfect, little violet.” His thumb stroked the birthmark I had always been embarrassed about, turning my feelings into something beautiful. Making something I hadn’t been happy about into something beautiful for me.

I was so close, Izzy seemed to sense my buildup. He pulled from our kiss, eyes on my face like he didn’t want to miss a moment of pleasure between us.

“Let go for me. Let me see the way you look when you come on my cock for me. Let me see you, little violet.”  His words rattled me as I wanted to do it, wanted to have him watch me as I shattered apart for him.

My orgasm burst between us, his eyes widening in primal need as his hands gripped my hips, thrusting deeper, harder as he fucked me through my orgasm, letting me collapse against his couch as he covered me, chasing his own moment

“Izzy, fuck!” I cried out for him as my toes curled, a second orgasm shattering me and blinding my vision with tears.

“Yes, say my name again.”

“IZZY!” I cried out for him as I felt him, the warm thick feeling of being filled with ropes of cum as his cock rutted it deep inside of me, filling me with him before he laid against me, supporting most of his weight on his forearms as he tried to remember how to breathe.

The world was quiet chaos of crackling logs and breaths that shook our chests.

“I’ve been waiting months for you.” his lips kissed my collarbone as I tried to make sense of what he was saying to me, “Months of watching you just trying to be ready for you. I knew you were a hurricane. I just had to get ready for the storm.” His lips slid down as he kissed my stomach, my head heavy as I tried to make sense of what he was saying. “Lets get you showered. I need to take you again, little violet. I want to make love to you twenty five hours a day.” My heart finally threw its opinion out there. Taking over for my brain who wanted to live and my vagina who wanted him.

My heart knew we were well and truly fucked.

#izzy stradlin guns n roses #izzy stradlin gnr #izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin fan fiction #izzy stradlin fanfic #izzy hands #izzy stradlin fan fic #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses fanfic #Guns N roses #gnr fanfic #izzy stradlin imagine #Izzy Stradlin Guns N roses

[yujo-nishimura]

Whispers of the Desert Kingdom - Part 9

Warning: Sir Crocodile x fem reader, English is not my native language, not proof-read, age gap - forced marriage, angst and manipulation

After every chapter I am happy about I write one which is not so satisfying. Sorry again for the short interlude - work is overwhelming me these days and university assignments are also piling up. But I'd rather give you all small chapters every day than no writing for weeks, right..? We are almost at the smut part, I just need some time and focus to get it done with. ;)

Taglist: @mcgeemouse , @fan-g0rl , @vexladin , @black-swan-blog27

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

Despite the initial fear and pain, there was an undeniable thrill that coursed through your veins. The sense of helplessness mixed with excitement awakened a part of you that you hadn't fully acknowledged before. And as you looked into the depths of Crocodile's eyes, you could sense that he too derived pleasure from this power dynamic.

However, deep down, you understood that Crocodile was not one to submit to anything that did not serve a significant benefit to him. While he may have appeared to hold all the control in this moment, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to his actions. Perhaps he had a liking for you, or at the very least, he enjoyed the admiration you had for him.

In a moment of bravery, you mustered all your courage and gently touched Crocodile's hand that rested on your heart. Understanding that words would only complicate matters, you silently urged him to come closer, pulling his hand towards you.

To your surprise, he followed your request, his massive frame settling beside you. His hooked arm enveloped your waist, drawing you closer. His proximity allowed you to perceive the intoxicating musky scent that emanated from him, and he could likely feel the frantic pace of your heartbeat beneath his touch.

You seized the initiative and pressed your lips against his. This kiss felt different from the one you shared at the wedding—more controlled yet infused with a deeper passion. Crocodile reciprocated the kiss, pulling you closer into his embrace. As you surrendered to his strength, you felt like a small doll in the arms of a giant.

Breaking the kiss momentarily, Crocodile seemed torn between releasing you entirely or holding onto you even tighter. You gently placed your hand on his cheek, tracing the outline of his scar with your fingertips.

"I am yours now," you whispered, and those words were precisely what he had been waiting to hear. It was all he needed to confirm the connection between you, the acknowledgment of your surrender to him. As the weight of your whispered confession settled in the air, Crocodile's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of surprise, satisfaction, and something deeper that you couldn't quite decipher. His grip on you tightened, securing you in his embrace as if he feared you might slip away. Crocodile leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice husky and filled with a mix of longing and possessiveness. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, my dear. But I promise you this, I will claim you as mine in every way possible."

As Crocodile abruptly pulled away, your heart sank, and a sense of disappointment washed over you. His sudden withdrawal left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, like a flame extinguished before it could fully ignite.

His words cut through the charged atmosphere, devoid of any hint of emotion. "I have no time for this now," he reiterated, his voice laced with the same dry resolution as the night before. "You can stay here or go back to the palace. I will meet you tonight."

Your heart was still beating fast, you felt like a fish thrown on land, gasping for air. You wanted him so badly, for a moment you had felt so close to him but then he had again, let go of you, not sure if he was still hesitant or really did not like you. 

With a heavy sigh, you rose to your feet, feeling the need to create physical distance, hoping it would alleviate the awkwardness between you. "I will go to the palace but await you there," you replied, your voice tinged with a mixture of determination and frustration. "Don't think for a moment that I will allow you to get away with only leaving bloodstains on my sheets again tonight..!"

#one piece #sir crocodile x y/n #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile one piece #x reader #yujowriting #sir crocodile #alabasta

[astralisbelle]

Dead Man's Hand 11 - Such Pretty Eyes

Dead Man's Hand Masterlist tags: engineer!reader, gambler!reader, loose canon timeline, eventual smut, fluff, action, casino aesthetics, touch starved reader, touch starved din, reader and din get on each other’s nerves, also they’re idiots, defrosting ice king din, cinderella vibes, everybody loves grogu

chapter summary: He has to find her soon, otherwise, he won't know what they'll do. warnings: show-typical violence

At first, everything is numb and quiet. Then she regains feeling in her toes and fingers, both sets feeling like icicles. Her neck throbs like it does when she sleeps wrong and it has no support. She tastes her dry tongue and tries to move her arms, but her wrists are stuck together.

Her cheek presses against the ground and her brows crinkle as she regains herself. With a soft groan, she rolls onto her back, made all the more uncomfortable when she realizes she can’t move her arms out of the way.

Din!

Her eyes fly open and she sits up, panting. The first thing she notices are the soldiers clad in white armor, their dark visors all turning towards her. For the first time in years, she is face to face with a squad of Stormtroopers. A horrified gasp leaves her breathless and when she tries to pull with her hands, she feels the cold metal around her wrists. They’ve stripped her of her shoes and accessories, just to add insult to injury.

“You’re awake.” She whips her head around and sees Bras sitting at the table, flanked by two Stormtroopers. He cuts a piece of well-grilled fish with his utensils, continuing his dinner without an ounce of remorse. Behind him, against the metal wall, is a sprawling banner of the Empire’s symbol, albeit with burns and holes. Her eyes survey the room, noticing no windows, just the large door at the end. Along the walls are crates and canisters, many of them dented and dirty in some way. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Where am I?” she growls.

He pats his lip with a cloth napkin. “Patience, sweet one. You understand how playing cards makes one completely famished.”

You’ve never starved a day in your life. That much, I can tell. She keeps her glare fixed in her eyes, her vein protruding from her neck. Bras finishes his meal, washing it down with a glass of red wine. He makes a refreshed “ahh” sound and then stands, circling around his desk. “I warned you,” he says. “Did I not? You should have taken my deal.”

“I wasn’t interested.” She puts on her bravest face.

“And look where that got you. Regretting that decision now, aren’t you?”

She sneers at him. “Is this supposed to scare me? Look around you, old man. If you weren’t scared of me winning in the first place, you wouldn’t have set this whole thing up.”

Bras grins. Then, he tosses his wine glass towards the wall and in the moment it shatters, he wraps his fingers around her neck and lifts, his thumb pressing against her trachea. “What is it with pests like you being so stubborn? You could have had the galaxy in the palm of your hand!” She gasps for air, her chest crying out for relief. “But no. You throw it all away for what? Pettiness? Nobility?”

“Ah… hah… why not both?” she chokes out. His nostrils flare at that. Dropping her back onto the ground, she lands with a pained sound, then he delivers an open blow to her cheek with his palm.

“It’s a damn shame.” He kneels down, clawing her hair with his hand and forcing her to look up at him. “A beautiful mind is wasted on you. You could have been greater than this.”

She shivers, expecting another slap on her red cheek. Her heart races and she’s certain that the end is coming for her and it won’t be pleasant. “So… now what?” She breathes fast. “You’re gonna kill me?”

“Oh, sweet one. Not yet.” He flashes a sinister smile. “I’m certain the Mandalorian is well on his way here, coming for you.” Her face pales. “And when he arrives, we will be sure to greet him.”

“H-He has nothing you want!”

“No? He has a full set of new beskar armor. It will be perfect to add to my collection, in addition to the grand prize.” No! It is only now that her defiance drops and pure terror enters her eyes. The image of Din walking straight into a trap and being brutally assaulted, murdered, by the Stormtroopers robs her of words. She shakes her head. “My…” Bras breathes out in wonder, tilting her head. “You have such pretty eyes, especially when they are so full of despair.” With a dark chuckle, he drops her again. “I’ll tell you what, my little pest.”

The tip of his boot slips under her chin, tilting it up. “When he dies, I will remove his helmet. And you can look upon him all you want with those pretty eyes.” His foot presses down against her neck. “Let the sight of him be the last respite during your slow death.”

---

The doors of the elevator slide open and the Mandalorian aims his blaster, expecting an immediate confrontation. When he sees that the coast is clear, he enters a brisk pace making his way down the dimly lit hall. He’s taught Grogu well so far on how to keep himself clear of the danger so all Din has to do is focus on rescuing her.

He hears boots jogging towards him about to turn the corner, so he flattens himself against the wall. When they come into view, he immediately opens fire from their flank, yanking the nearest one towards him as a meat shield. It’s at this moment that his eyes widen at the familiar armor, but he does not hesitate in tossing the meat shield towards the ground and kicking its head. “Stormtroopers?”

Grogu’s face crunches in animosity, wrinkles deepening in his cheeks and forehead.

“Dank farrik.” His walk turns into a jog as blood rushes to his head. He hadn’t encountered these since Moff Gideon, since someone else stole someone important to him. Din expects there to be loads more of them up ahead, so he has to exercise some caution if he wants all three of them to make it out of there alive. When he hears more footsteps, he stops in the hallway and reaches for the small bombs in his belt. “Get back, kid.” Just before the Stormtroopers turn the corner, he sticks them on the wall and charges them, listening to the tempo of its beeping.

He stashes the blaster and his hand hovers over his choice of blade: the Vibroblade or the Darksaber. The latter is the more powerful weapon, but it still feels like he’s trying to lift a Mudhorn. No, he doesn’t have time for that. Din grabs the Vibroblade and readies himself. The Stormtroopers come in hot, their blaster fire lighting up the hallway while he hides around the corner. All he has to do is wait for the bomb to go off.

As soon as a Stormtrooper rounds the corner, Din delivers a hard left hook against its helmet to knock it back. In the small window of vulnerability, he darts his Vibroblade forward into the space between the helmet and chest plate, piercing through the softer mesh and disposing of the clone quickly. Just before he falls, Din relieves him of his blaster rifle, using the extra heat to return fire. The tempo of his bomb reaches its finale and he hides behind the wall just before it bursts into a cloud of fire, shaking the ground and scattering the Stormtroopers. He walks past the fire, coming up on a trooper trying to push himself off the ground. Din swiftly uses the flat end of the rifle to slam on the back of its neck, knocking it out cold.

The bottom floor is a maze of winding, dark walls, but he figures that as long as he follows where the Stromtroopers are coming from, he will find her.

Just hold on, please. I’m coming.

---

They hear a distant rumble and the lights flicker for a second. She lifts her head, listening for anything more in the dead silence. Bras leans back in his chair. “He’s here,” he says melodically. “Get ready.” The Stormtroopers make a crescent shape around the door, their rifles at the ready. Her heart goes into overdrive and her eyes glue to the door. Please don’t come in, please don’t come in, please don’t come in!

Another boom in the distance shakes the room, this time louder and closer. Muffled blaster fire and grunts of battle reach her ears. She breathes hard, as if her lungs cannot get enough air, and sweat cakes her forehead. Then comes silence. The door slides open and she holds her breath.

No one stands there.

The Stormtroopers exchange glances of confusion with each other while one takes a step forward. From the corner of the door, high pitched whistles startle them all and tiny blue lights fly through the air. They hone in on the Stormtroopers, piercing through their armor with precision and speed. One by one, the pins explode and make short work of many of them. She watches Bras’s sadistic smile drop in the matter of seconds.

The Mandalorian steps into the door frame and opens fire. Some blaster shots bounce off his armor but others make purchase on his unprotected areas, staggering him and making him grunt in pain. Two troopers gang up on him, using the ends of their rifles to knock him upside the head. “Din!” He takes a knee and a beating before he slaps a button on his vambrace and a stream of fire emerges. Pushing them back and igniting them, he stops his flamethrower and pulls out something that she had never seen anything like in her life.

A high-pitched hum fills the room as a blade of pure black light emerges from the hilt. Din has to hold it with both hands, but one swing slices through Stormtrooper armor clean. With Bras’s forces dwindling, he pulls a blaster out of his desk and stomps towards her.

As soon as Din finishes off the last trooper, Bras yanks her up by her neck, making her scream as he points the barrel towards her cheek. “Mandalorian!” he announces.

The Mandalorian slowly turns towards Bras, his weapon scraping against the floor and making sparks. Following him close behind and opening the canopy of his pram is Grogu, his big eyes narrowing. When he speaks, his words are clear with the bite of seething rage. “Let her go. Now.” He takes a step forward.

“Not one more step!” Bras spits, jamming the barrel deeper against her skin. “You’re going to listen to me, or you can walk out of here carrying her corpse.” Din doesn’t move. “Good boy. Now, let’s make a deal, shall we? I know you’re after the beskar. Let me go and I’ll give you two ingots from the grand prize. How’s that?”

She can’t see it, but she can feel Din’s glare. His shoulders tense and he takes a few more steps forward, the blade scraping against the floor. “No.”

“Th-three ingots!”

“No. Hand her over.”

“I warned you not to take another step!” She shuts her eyes, waiting for the click of the trigger near her ear. It never comes. Instead, the hands around her tremble and she hears pained gasps coming from Bras. Peeling her eyes open, she looks up and see his eyes widen, his tongue peeking out as he chokes. From what? The blaster falls to the floor and he lets go of her entirely and drops her, grasping at his neck.

Din does nothing, but Grogu has his claw extended towards Bras, his eyes focused with murderous intent. As he curls his fingers in, she puts two and two together, sliding away from Bras. Din storms up to him, lifting the saber and driving it through his chest. He clicks the button to draw the blade back, leaving Bras to fall to his knees. He wheezes as he collapses over, the last of his life extinguished.

Finally, she can breathe in relief. “Din!” He faces her and rushes to kneel down. As soon as he’s close by, he takes a tool from his belt and goes to work on the restraints around her wrists. The second she is free and the thick cuffs fall against the floor, she throws her arms around his shoulders and holds him tight. “Oh thank the stars! I thought he was going to kill you!”

He freezes, his hands sitting in the air awkwardly. But then he gives in, resting on hand on the small of her back and the other across her shoulder. “You… you were worried about me?” She was the one who was taken, she was the one being held at gunpoint, she almost died a minute ago. But she was worried about him.

She’s either really brave or really nuts.

“It was a trap. He wanted your beskar.” She pulls away, keeping her hands on his arms. “I--” Grogu jumps into the space between their bodies, his hands clinging to the cloth of her dress. She laughs in relief, hugging him close. “Thank you, Grogu. I can’t believe you came here… I…”

It’s a beautiful sight, Din thinks. Happy tears roll down her cheeks as she presses her forehead against Grogu’s her nose brushing against his. His hands cup her cheeks: a feeling he himself knows well. Din had only seen that level of protectiveness from Grogu for himself, never anyone else. She lifts her head, smiling despite what she just endured.

“Thank you, Din.”

His chest flutters and he feels his face flush again, despite the battle have ended. Words don’t come to his tongue, so he settles for an awkward nod. He helps her to her feet, letting Grogu remain in her arms for now. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah.”

He keeps an arm around her waist just in case. She uses one hand to keep Grogu against her and the other to wrap around Din’s shoulders, leaning on him occasionally when she needs it.

As they walk past the small fires and scattered, knocked-out troopers, Din has a funny thought that he keeps to himself:

In that moment, they feel like a clan of three.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #work: dead man's hand #do you guys realize the smut is next #do you

[saltmannequin]

aquarium

eddie munson x gn!reader

wc: 800

warnings: marijuana use (edibles), high eddie, no use of y/n!

a/n: just a messy little drabble based on that one family guy tiktok sound - apologies if there’s any mistakes!

————

It was a warm Sunday evening in mid-July when your best friend Nancy sat opposite you in the old diner a few miles east of Hawkins, hands in her hair, eyes on the slab of oak that separated the two of you.

She exhaled lowly, emitted a frustrated groan, and pushed her hair backwards against her skull. "I’m just bored. There's nothing to do around here.. me and Steve just hang out by his pool all day." She rolled her eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

You thought carefully about what advice to offer her. A service bell rang in the distance. An idea appeared.

"Well, sometimes me and Eddie take edibles and go to the aquarium a few towns over."

Nancy’s once downturned mouth quirked slightly upward. She shook her head at you while chuckling softly. "Now that.. is an idea. Is it fun?"

The memory of your last trip to the aquarium with your boyfriend of six months, Eddie Munson, drifted into your mind.

-

Your denim-covered thigh was pressed against Eddie’s, similarly, denim covered thigh. The bench underneath you both had grown warm from how long the two of you had sat, transfixed on the floating fish opposite you.

Eddie’s mouth was slightly agape, and his doe eyes were sparkling under the fluorescent blue of the lights inside the large glass tank. Your eyes were heavy, and your smile was dopey.

"Imagine…" He swallowed, "Imagine being a fish.." He chuckled lightly as a bright yellow angelfish changed direction almost rapidly. "Just floating around..eating those tiny little fish cracker flakes.."

"Fish food"

"Yeah.. that…wouldn’t that be just awesome?"

"Breathing underwater? I’d never go on dry land again." You sighed contentedly at the thought of having no thoughts and swimming around all day.

•

A few extended minutes passed before you both got up from the bench, bones clicking. The two of you walked hand in hand along the seemingly endless aquarium until you reached the gift shop placed strategically just before the exit.

You both gasped at the countless array of trinkets, keyrings, and plushies that decorated the shelves all across the shop floor, noticing that they had added tonnes of new items.

Instantly, Eddie dragged you towards the mug section, insisting he had to buy Wayne a new mug, gasping when he found a small coffee mug with a crab painted on it. ‘If this mug is empty, I’m feeling crabby.’ was printed in block letters next to the grumpy-looking crab.

"This is so perfect!" He smiled excitedly while taking one from the shelf and clutching it to his chest like a prize.

You both walked around some more, ogling at a few items you both adored a little too much, before buying Wayne’s mug and leaving through the exit. "Sea you soon!" was written above the door.

The fresh air was a warm welcome for the both of you after being in the stuffy air conditioning of the aquarium.

You made your way over to Eddie’s van, chatting about ‘which fish is subjectively better than all the other fish’. He opened the passenger door of the van for you, helping you up before running around to his side. You opened your bag as he slid into the driver's seat.

His hand reached out to place his keys in the ignition, but he hesitated as he felt something hit his leg. A thick silver ring adorned with a sting ray and various swirls carved into the metal alongside it was placed in his lap. He gasped when he saw it.

"Babe! No way! Oh my god…a-are you sure I can have this?"

"I bought it for you, Eds; you’ve never even looked at me the way you looked at that ring." You smiled at him warmly as he thanked you profusely, sliding it onto his middle finger.

" ‘Got you something too." He smiled sheepishly as he reached into his pocket, tongue curling upwards out of his mouth slightly as he struggled to pull the item out of his jean pocket. He sighed triumphantly as he finally got a grasp on it. "Here."

You took the small, black box from him hesitantly, wondering if the item was really what you thought it was. You were right. "Oh, Eddie.."

"D-do you not like ‘em? ‘Cause I can return ‘em, s’just you looked at ‘em for a while and I thought you might’ve liked ‘em.." He spun his new ring around on his finger, nervously awaiting your response.

"Eddie, these are so beautiful! Thank you so much." You placed your hands on both sides of his face and pulled him in for a soft kiss. Lips melding together in harmony.

"I love you." You whispered, foreheads touching.

"I love you too." He whispered back, smiling.

-

"It’s really, really fun." You beamed at Nancy, fiddling with the stained-glass jellyfish that dangled from your earlobes. Thin wisps of glass extending from the body of the jellyfish, reflecting the neon lights in the old diner.

————

thank you for reading!!!

these are the pieces of jewellery i had in mind when writing :)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie stranger things

[frvrwriting]

where: nye ball, outside the museum | when: 11:55 pm, dec 31st | who: antonia dias tws: assult, drowning, murder

just close your eyes, the sun is going down...

Antonia followed the rules to a certain extent, and that extent was until it differed from what she wanted, then it was to hell with the rules. As people got antsy with the news of the blizzard and were now told to stay at the museum... all of a sudden it felt like a cage. She looked around the room to make sure Kaylane was there before Toni pinched an elaborate coat, that looked like it'd do to keep her warm, and slipped out for a smoke. If she was going to spend however long with what felt like the entire island she needed a few minutes of quiet.

"Fuck," she hisses as soon as the cold air whips her face with unkindness. They obviously weren't kidding with the dramatic tone, she couldn't see much as the snow fell and the wind continued to whip it in every direction, making it all the more harder to see. That much alone should've indicated for her return to the warmth the indoors provided. Toni, to her own detriment at times was stubborn, she wanted what she wanted and exactly when she wanted it. The brunette had survived worse. She tightened the coat even further around her as she stepped towards the fountain, fishing in her small purse for her cigarettes. She made quick work to light the end and she watched it for a moment. The light illuminating the end... a stark contrast to the complete cold that surrounded her everywhere else. She was about to bring it towards her lips when a harsh grab of the back of her head caused her to yelp and drop it instead.

...you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now...

If Toni thought the wind was cold it was nothing in comparison to when her head is dunked into the fountain. A million tiny needles stabbing her at once, it was the only thing she felt before the rest of her reality came rushing back to her. She was drowning. No. Someone was drowning her. Determined hands pushed her further into the water and her instincts caused her to thrash about. The killer, the murders. She has to survive. She elbows them with whatever power she can muster and as their head lowers as a reaction Toni sinks her nails into whatever she can grab. It's enough to loosen the grip on her hair and she pulls up for a giant gasp of air. "Fuck you!" she breathes, but it comes out hoarse and dry, and it hurts. She can't make out much of the person the blizzard now assisting in hiding the person.

Toni curls up her fist, thumb on the outside, right over your middle knuckle, squeeze and always keep your wrist straight Antonia, she can hear her father's instructions clear as day. One of the few things he was able to teach her, days before he was ripped out of their home. She lands a decisive blow and before losing her momentum is pulling off the red mask with her other hand. "—You?!" it's demanding soft cry. She had to— she had to warn the others. Just like she had those days in high school on the track team, Toni ran like hell. Or tried to at least. She was only a single step away before she slipped on the accumulating snow on the ground. Fucking heels.

...come morning light, you and i'll be safe and sound.

It was over. Those same monstrous hands were on her once more, and whatever fight she had left were futile attempts. Her head met with the lip of the fountain with a decisive blow. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This wasn't supposed to be her end.

She was supposed to live longer. Supposed to see Kaylane be happy, like truly happy again. They were supposed to go on vacation together, drink mimosas and laugh. God, would they laugh and not let any of the shit that happened to them poison them any longer. They were supposed to have their own little girls and they were supposed to be best of friends, inseparable.

She was supposed to see her dad again, tell him she loved him but was supposed to free herself. She was supposed to find a hobby, paint or knit, fuck she'd never get the chance to make an ugly sweater for her and Kay for Christmas. She was supposed to wingman for Javi until they were old and grey together.

She was supposed to fall in love! Swoon kind of love, maybe with Jaziel if she allowed herself, or if they both did, or with someone new entirely. She'd never meet them now. She was supposed to forgive her mom. The list went on and it grasped on any face that flashed across her mind.

Am I crying or is it the snow? ....It's freezing..... Kay, I love you.

Slow and accomplished steps retreated and that was the last thing Antonia Dias saw before darkness and nothingness shrouded her completely.

#;selfpara #threads;toni #:'(

[watermeloncholycucumbersome]

Day 33 of Writing Something Everyday

(365 Day Challenge)

Swimming, diving deep,

With you as we sink to the bottom of the sea.

In your arms I feel oh so safe, no one but you and I down here; it's so quiet.

Midnights moon reflects upon the water above us, dancing little flickers of light.

Motionless, we hold eachother as the bubbles swirl around us; warm and soothing tickling our skin.

The current is the cradle that rocks us gently into dreaming.

If I could stay here forever I would, encased in amber as if we were ancient beetles, a relic they'd study in time.

No one would laugh, or have remorse or think us crazy, they'd all gaze upon our frozen frames and exclaim "That's love".

Gossamer in summer,

Weaved in the bosom of God.

Immersed beneath the sea foam like drowning pleasantly, swimming

Through wormholes of possibilities; our air bubbles floating - swirling upward and around us.

Healing our wounds the world's nails have gouged in our skin by the salt water that covers us. Then suddenly we're

Yanked out of our home, we're safe no more, the water is gone and we're now just two land mammals; fish out of water gasping.

Into the unknown, naked and afraid, what was once

Innocence now turns into survival. We're

Amusement for the masses - a circus act.

They've never seen anything like us, as we twist and turn in a tank too small for one of us let alone the both of us.

No name given on our plaque the visitors read, children young and old with faces and hands pressed up against the glass.

A freak experiment of elites to study for profit.

In each other's arms we struggle to breathe.

Grandoise faux light from the overhead artificial luminescence screwed to the ceiling above us. I'm reminded of home, and I weep silently.

Home, I miss our home, I miss the quietness that has now become a constant vibration throughout the water mumblings and tones we don't understand rattling our eardrums.

Tumultuous crowds surround us, we're no longer in the sea, we're surrounded by a sea of humans, a gazingstock to judgement. This isn't how it was supposed to be, it wasn't what I had dreamed for us. You mouth "It's okay, just close your eyes" then you're no longer near me and I feel the warmth of the water that held you pull away from me, the space feeling now cold and empty. Then I hear pounding on glass the water around us begins to move violently as if we are in the middle of a storm. I open my eyes to see you, fists beating the glass with such veracity and force that I had never seen from you until now. Within a few hits the glass around us began to crack slowly, like ice and the sound of it doing so was similar.

Blood began to swirl slowly from your hands and I call your name but you respond

with the loudest scream I'd ever heard, your voice reverberating off the four clear walls that burst assunder like firecrackers exploding beautifully in the sky.

Within milliseconds we were riding the waves of our "new home" through the museum. Frightened faces of visitors bobbing in the water now with us, muffled words become loud audible yelling. Guards clamouring to recapture us as a red faced fat man in a tuxedo yells "GET THEM!!!"

We slip and slide in the glass and water making our way outside, Mal De Débarquement kicking in. We run together as I try to keep up crossing busy roads, the cool air drying out our skin by the second. Cars skidding to full on stops, yelling cursing, honking their horns at us "put some clothes on ya filthy bastards" someone yells spitting at us. I collapse - you grab me up in your arms and run with me your chest heaving as we make our way across the street and toward the water. Home, oh home I can't believe it I thought I'd never see it again. Flakes of our skin blow away in the nights breeze, we're drying out too fast - we need to get to the water before it's too late.

Finally reaching the sandy shore we both collapsed to our knees, breathing laboured, grasping at fistfuls of sand pulling ourselves towards home - home. Like baby sea turtles flapping their flippers to get to water, we moved our arms until we felt the warmth of the sea and the smell, oh the wonderful smell!

Then we are pulled by the waves and under letting it take us, exhausted from the day this felt perfect and instantly I felt better. The look on his face staring back at me with those eyes of his told me that all was well with him too.

We were home and nobody could hurt us anymore, we were alone and we could just be!

Swimming hand in hand until we were far beyond where anyone would ever find us again.

Now motionless, we hold eachother as the bubbles swirl around us; warm and soothing.

The current is the cradle that rocks us gently into dreaming.

And we'll awake tomorrow to the glittering sunrise welcoming us back.

I nestle into his arms and he relaxes into mine, wrapped up in one anothers company.

"Goodnight my love" he whispers,

"Goodnight my love" I whisper back.

~Jenni

#thoughts #feelings #love #poem #poetry #spilled heart #spilled words #don't want to be here #original poem #love poem #poets on tumblr #writers and poets #written word #original writing #writers on tumblr #poems on tumblr #original poetry #writing #writeblr #spilled writing #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #spilled poetry #true love #short poetry #short story #ronance #romantacism #romantic #mental health

[luciferpanini]

ur baby shark tsukasa posts beat me up again and left me gasping for air like a fish on dry land

lmao word.

it never ends.

#project sekai #tenma tsukasa #ask #ikea shark

[drinkingpoison]

Proselfship Advent day Eighteen: Swapping stories, traditional folklore or family stories 📜

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ 📓

Using the misfits for this one, as I feel they'd all have some interesting stories to share U⁠^⁠ｪ⁠^⁠U

I promise I'm gonna get on top of these and stay that way one of these days -

Tramp couldn't stop wagging his little tail in excitement, messing up every blanket on the large, cushy bed, much to his fox companions dismay. Etta was currently trying to curl up in her self designated spot, ears lying flat against her head as she watches the mutt through narrowed eyes.

"Darling, settle down. We're meant to be getting ready for bed."

"I am getting ready for bed! I gotta find a good spot."

She could see using reason was going to be entirely pointless here, laying her head against her paws with a lighthearted sigh. Rather he'd get nice and comfortable now and not spend the whole night tossing and turning.

"What's all this I hear about going to bed?"

Both little heads spun at the deep voice, ears perking in excitement as King Moonracer strolled into the room, the bed creaking under his weight as he hefted himself up with a grunt.

"You no there's no bedtime without storytime, especially now with the island so empty."

"Yessir yessir! I'm ready for storytime! Always ready!"

Apparently he was finally ready to settle down too, doing one last spin before flopping right where he could nuzzle into the King's soft stomach fur. Etta took her own spot against his chest with an air of amusement, letting out a soft laugh and nuzzling up into the large tongue lapping across her head.

"Who wants to go first? Tramp, do you have something you'd like to share?"

"I do, I do! I remembered one a' me and my best buddies adventures today! We'd gone down to the creek to look for fish n' sometimes rocks and anything else we could find. Momma always made me take a bath when we got home cause I got so wet and slimy!

It was a normal, fun ol' sunny day and I was sittin' on a rock watchin' buddy splash around when suddenly, I saw a big black snake slitherin' around in the water!"

Pausing for just a moment to allow his partners to gasp as they took in that information, he was thoroughly encouraged by how enthralled they appeared.

"I called for 'im to watch out! Who knows how many were surrounding us - but before you know it, my brave buddy spun around n' got it right in the head with his trusty slingshot! We went home right after that, never told momma though -"

"Oh my! That's quite the story dearie. Buddy does always sound so brave and fun in your tales eheh."

"That he does, a mighty companion for a mighty dog."

Tramp looked like he might just wag out of his felt as they complimented his best friend, the child he'd spent most of his existence with. Missing him at times, telling stories of their adventures together always made him happy.

"He was a true friend through and through.. How about you, your majesty? Anything to tell about your grand ol' travels recently?"

"Oh you know things are usually quiet around here.. Hmm."

The lion tilted his head to really put some thought into it, crossing one paw over the other.

"I did recently go by one of those dry lands, where snow doesn't ever seem to reach. I flew over a colorful land full of all different types of people, especially children running and screaming in joy. The buildings were all large, bright, and had long lines of people outside waiting to visit them. They even had a castle! And so many beautiful princes walking and chatting with the kids. Truly a sight to behold.

I'll have to be going back soon, maybe you two can join me. I know there are toys in need of all kinds there."

"Oh wow... Multiple princes? Their castle must be huge..."

Etta looked dazzled at the description of this fantastical place, her heart fluttering at the idea of taking a visit. The icy tundras were beautiful, but she missed seeing new locations.

"How bout you, Etta? Feel like sharin' ?"

"Oh well... I have been thinking about this time I was lost in what humans call a "thrift store" for a short time.. Jumped off the shelf when no one was looking and couldn't find my way back up. I met many interesting characters in that little building, I bet a lot of them would fit in here actually!

There were collectables like me, dolls who'd been decorated by their girls, little trucks with nowhere to drive, stick horses with no one to ride them.. and the sweetest Shepard I've ever met! He let me back to our shelf, and had so many adorable fluffy sheep. I wonder if he ever found a home, or if he stayed to keep guiding toys who needed help..."

"I've seen shops like this, been inside a few of them. They're always amazing places."

Yawning as he spoke, the king laid his muzzle against his paws after giving his little loves a few more licks, encouraging them to settle in.

"Mm.. Goodnight my dears. I love you."

"G'night! I love you guys."

"Goodnight my loves... Until tomorrow."

#proselfshipadvent #proselfship #proship please interact #📼 #📓 #🌗 #the king saw a disney #pffft

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Request:  Could I request some mereo x fem reader smut? You can have creative freedom with the rest. Just something’s that captures her intense, fiery personality, please :) Also, I loved your ringing silence series!

A/N: Hello, hello~ Of course you may! There really isn’t a lot of smut for her, and I’m happy to help my fellow Vermillion simps out ;) I do hope that you like this, it was my first attempt on Mereo smut after all ^^’  And thank you so much! Glad to hear that it was to your liking! ^^

Pairing: Mereoleona x f!reader

Warnings: smut, sex, fingering, shower sex, spanking, “good girl” as pet name, Mereo telling reader to essentially “go at it”,  minors DNI

Fanfic type: Oneshot

Length: ~1.9k

Mereoleona was going through her leisurely training regimen in the Crimson Lion Kings’ headquarters as you watched from the side lines. And though you called it, or she called it ‘leisurely’, it didn’t mean that it was ultimately an easy one. The one time you had tried it, you had been gasping for your breath, as if your life depended on it, within the first five minutes.

Though, given how your head had felt dizzy, you had at times thought, light-heartedly, that perhaps your life had dependent on gasping for air as if you were a fish on dry land.

But Mereo? She made it looks easy. Effortless. As if the training was a game, a ball of yarn between her paws, which she was simply bouncing around.

It was as if it was playtime for her.

Playtime… You thought as you looked at her, in her tank top… Jogging around.

She was sweating, even if just a little bit, a barely existent veil that made her skin glisten in the light of the sun. Her chest was… not quite heaving, but you could distinguish the rising and falling of it.

And… it got, at least a little bit, of her adrenaline pumping. You supposed. From the way her eyes flared up.

Or perhaps it was just your imagination.

Perhaps it was just…

Your throat going dry. Funny, because you weren’t exercising. There was no reason for your … throat to have run dry… your breathing growing heavy… from the way you looked at that… spark in Mereo’s eyes that-

“Thirsty?”

Your head shot towards the sound of Mereo, asking, standing right there with a glass in hand. She poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher that was on the table next to you.

“Go ahead, you need it more than I do,” you said, trying to collect your thoughts that had… been all over the place, if they had been coherent thoughts at all.

“That’s not what I asked,” she said, but as you turned to look, there was a faint smirk painted over her lips.

You let out a hum, as your eyes turned to the sky for a fraction of a second, because you knew what … devilishly delicious smirk she must’ve been wearing from the tone of voice alone. And the agreement, the …giving in, left you as a huff.

She poured another glass, filling the one that was still on the table, looking at you all the time. It was as if she was observing your every movement with curiosity. It was, as if, her eyes were focused on your wandering gaze, like she could feel the warmth of your cheeks. “Then drink up,” she uttered, leaning closer, hovering over you.

Her chest was much closer to you. Her cleavage as if on show… Though you knew she didn’t particularly care if it was on show or not. Because she was bold like that. For one thing.

Your hand took a hold of the glass, and you lifted it onto your lips. The cool, almost cold surface of it contrasted the air around you, as well as the burning of your cheeks. But it tasted good, though you supposed only because you were thirsty. Why that was, you didn’t want to admit. Even if you had an idea.

And all the while the lioness looked at you, smirking, as if she knew how heat was building up within you.

“Then… a shower,” there was a hint of an assessment in her tone, in the way the syllables tumbled from her tongue as if he was savouring something. “You too,” she added, this time her tone turning insisting, almost commanding. Almost, because she wouldn’t force you, not when it came to this.

Your eyes darted to her, because it was clear that she had an intention. An idea… but you weren’t exactly… opposed to whatever she had in mind.

So, you got up and begun following her toward the bathroom, feeling your breathing growing rapid with anticipation of your own. Your throat was growing dry, and you swallowed.

But as you reached the bathroom, and begun undressing, you could only stare at her. The way her skin still glistened… The way her hair draped over her skin and the way… she was looking at you, eyes full of hunger.

Then slight annoyance, because you were still fully clothed.

She sighed, and took a step forward. Her hand found its way onto your cheek, caressing it on its way down onto your shirt… Her other hand took a hold of the hem straight away, and with a swift motion she pulled it off.

Then your pants… undergarment…

The next thing you knew was standing in the shower, warm water flowing over your skin as Mereo’s hands roamed around your body.

She was so warm, even warmer than the water. Her hold was firm, yet gentle. As if she wanted you all to herself, and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. The way her hands travelled over you… over your boobs, your back, your ass… giving squeezes ever now and then. Almost teasingly.

It was as if she wanted you to feel, really feel that she was there, but not yet tip you over.

And that smirk on her lips… told you that she knew exactly what she was doing.

Then she turned you around.

Your hands were pressed against the cool tiles of the wall, and her hand, begun trailing down to your crotch.

Her other hand settled onto your chest, squeezing your nipple between her fingers. But her other hand… the way her fingers played with your clit, pressing, rubbing… the stopping.

A whine escaped you, one that you couldn’t help but let out.

And she grinned with a faint chuckle that rolled down your neck.

“Good girl…” she purred, before dipping her fingers inside of you without warning.

You gasped, throwing your head back. Which she only took as a sign to apply more pressure onto your clit, ass her fingers kept pumping in and out. In… and out…

A squeeze on your boob… rubbing sensation over your clit and you just wanted her in. To press her index finger right there… right there, until you’d finally-,

And so… it came, your climax. A wave of warmth washed over you, and it made your head feel light… Your legs were trembling, even if only faintly.

You tried to catch your breath as you felt Mereo’s head reaching over your shoulder in search of your lips.

Your head turned to hear, as if answering a call. Of course it turned. Because you wanted to feel her soft lips pressed against yours. Her sweet, wild taste was as if divine. A goddess of hunt right there, her tongue exploring your mouth to her heart’s content.

Until she turned you around, now facing her with your back against the wall.

“My turn…” she whispered, nearly purred, in a way that sacred… rare, even to you. The tender syllables that she uttered scarcely, but always made your heart skip a beat.

She leaned over you, both hands against the tiles of the shower, hovering over you. Her chest was nearly pressed against your face, and yet, you couldn’t help but stare at her gleaming eyes, flickering with passion, lust and ferocious affection; a combination that you could only imagine to exist within her. And the smirk, right under those eyes, with her canine peeking out, was laced with a devilish taste that you craved to coat your tongue.

“I always knew I want my partner to respect me, adore me, and to dominate me… Of course, you cannot dominate me, but I want you to try,” the words were spoke with such confidence that it could be mistaken for arrogance. But, it wasn’t. Because you knew that no one could truly dominate her. Not even if they tried.

And yet, there she was, pressing her voluptuous chest against your face, and telling you to go at it. She was telling you to roam around her body in search of something that would make her see stars.

She was telling you to explore her body in ways that you wanted.

Your eyes flickered between her eyes, and her chest, and again into her eyes. There was a spark within those deep, blue eyes into which you peered, telling you that she didn’t want to wait much longer.

And… you didn’t want to keep her waiting.

Your hands latched onto her chest and her ass, giving both a squeeze. You leaned forward, pressing your mouth against hers as your hands begun roaming her body, trying to get a feel of it all. Trying to remember it all, every curve, every muscle, so firm under your touch.

Her tongue was wrestling with yours in the space that connected your mouths, occasionally licking your lips.

There was just so much to take in. So much that you could barely keep up. Barely, as it was making your head light as the warm water was flowing over both your bodies.

She took a hold of your hand and placed it between her legs. As if she couldn’t wait any longer.

So, you dipped your fingers inside of her, pressing your palm against her clit. Her walls were trying to hold onto your digits, as if trying to suck them in. And she was so warm.

So… wet.

Her hips pressed harder against your hand, and she begun to rock into your touch.

Her clit was rubbing harder against your hand, as you picked up the pace.

Your eyes searched for hers, only find that her eyes were closed. She was really engulfed into the sensation; into the way you were pleasure her under the warm shower.

Her body leaned closer to you, and her hips were, almost desperately, trying to slam harder onto your fingers. It was as if she was trying to shove you deeper inside of her with every thrust her hips made.

“Spank me…”

You weren’t sure if you heard correctly.

“Spank me!” She growled next to your ear, this time commanding you.

So, you did. You smacked her ass with your other hand.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice!

Holy fuck you had spanked her ass three times, which was three times more than anyone, ever, would dare to do. The knowledge was almost enough to make your eyes roll back in your own head. That you had done something no one else would even dare think of!

She slammed her hips against your hand for one, last time… And then she just stood in there.

This time her chest was heaving. And her breathing seemed… rugged, for a fraction of a second until she straightened her back.

Her gaze cascaded over you with adoration, tenderness that was so difficult to imagine, coming from her. Another sacred thing that was reserved only to you. The way she looked at you with a flicker that was like the morning sun.

“Good girl,” she said, licking her lips, the canine… peeking out.

She placed her hands onto your cheeks, cupping your face, and leaned in for a soft, gentle kiss. In which her lips only sought to take a hold of yours.

And in that adoring kiss, was her testament of love for you. But something told you that you two weren’t, quite yet, done with your playtime.

#mereoleona x reader #mereoleona vermillion x reader #black clover smut #steamy #smut #lemon #black clover fanfiction #black clover oneshot

[rayne-storm]

The Mermaid of Melody Farm

AUgust 10 - Merfolk

Fandom: Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons: Wonderful Life

Summary: Player Character / Gustafa

Willow has inherited the family farm, but she has a problem: it's hard to be a mermaid in a nosy town!

One night she takes a dip, and gets a shock when someone spots her….

A/N: I might add onto this one later, but I do like it short and sweet!

********

It had been two seasons since Willow had come to to take over the family farm, and life was… interesting.

She hadn't expected such a warm welcome, honestly, but everyone seemed happy to meet her and offer their support. Takakura was as surly as she remembered, but he also had that warmth in his hugs she had missed.

She'd always had a knack for the natural parts of life, raising animals, gardening, things like that, and it seemed that she would be able to have a perfectly fine life here in Forget-Me-Not Valley.

Except she had a secret:

Her father, may his memory be a blessing, had been a human, 100%.

Her mother, may her soul be at peace, had not.

They met, or so they said, on a dreamy beach when he shipwrecked a little sailboat on a desert island, and she pulled him from the wreck. Willow wasn't entirely sure that was the truth, but it didn't really matter. She came into the world with gills and a tail that had, fortunately, become a pair of fine legs quickly enough.

Due to her father's genes, she could live on land for the most part. Her mother gave her a sea-longing, though, and a physical, life-or-death need to be fully submerged in water a certain portion of time, at which point her gills and tail would show up (a neat evolutionary mechanism, her father would say). With experimentation, she calculated that she could get by comfortably on about 10 minutes a day.

Luckily, there were ponds all around the valley, as well as a river that fed right into the ocean. She had no shortage of fresh water. The problems came when the villagers never quite stuck to a strict schedule. And they seemed to love being wherever she was sometimes. As nice as they all were, this wasn't good for the solitude she needed to comfortably soak. And she knew what would happen if people found out.

Her mother's death had been proof enough of that. Sailors had caught her in a net, and she'd become a freakshow attraction until her husband, Willow's father, had shown up to help her escape. They didn't make it home.

Willow wouldn't let anything like that happen to her.

In the two seasons since she'd arrived, she'd made do with the shower, but that wasn't going to last. She'd have to brave the outdoors eventually…

2 A.M. seemed like a decent time to sneak out. No one would be awake, surely, and she could use the pond near the little sprite guys' tree (she still wasn't entirely sure what they were, beyond very friendly). The coast was clear enough, and she didn't hear anyone as she sunk into the beautiful blue water.

It was blissful, letting herself sink just enough for her tail and gills to come out to play, floating serenely and letting herself just be. It had been exhausting being so dry for so long, not letting herself wade too far into the ocean or river when she'd needed to fish. She'd earned this.

She didn't know she'd fallen asleep until a loud gasp woke her up, causing her to flail around in a panic. She didn't even see who was there before she leapt out of the water (the pond simply not big enough to hide in by going down) and ran as fast as she could towards Melody Farm.

She nearly made it, too.

A loose rock sent her falling hard, knocking the precious little air she'd gulped in straight back out. She didn't know if she was more terrified of discovery, or embarrassed of the noise she'd made hitting the ground as footsteps came towards her. Maybe she'd explain it away as hallucinations. Maybe they'd just blackmail her or threaten her or something and not just kill her outright. Maybe-

"‐Okay??"

Wait, what?

Two hands came down and looped under her arms to help haul her up. She blinked blearily as she was set on the ground, and one of the hands made it's way to her cheek. It was soft, warm. She couldn't help leaning into it as she tried to clear her head.

"I said, are you okay, Willow?"

"I'm….what?"

"Okay, let's get you home and sitting down, hold tight."

She was picked up like a bride and she tried to make out features in the darkness. Failing that, she shut her eyes tight and held onto the mystery man, who seemed like he wasn't, in fact, about to make her into sushi or sell her to the carnival?

She kept her eyes closed (and tried not to get motion sick) as he managed to get her inside her cabin and set onto her bed. She opened her eyes again and was very surprised to see two beautiful blue ones staring back down at her, brows raised in concern.

"Better?"

She nodded meekly.

"Good. That was quite a fall. You really worried me."

"I… sorry?"

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have scared you so bad. I was just surprised is all. Not often you see the impossible here, you know?"

"...."

He chuckled as she tried to figure out what to say, but it was… kind. Warm, like his hands.

"I don't think I've ever seen you without your glasses," she managed to retort, "so that's two impossible things."

Gustafa laughed and shook his head.

"I dropped them chasing after you. Don't worry, they're probably fine. Really, though, are you okay?"

She nodded.

"Just embarrassed. I'm supposed to be graceful, you know."

"Sure, sure. I gave you a real fright, you weren't in top form or something, right?"

"Right… how much did you…?"

"Well, I really thought I'd gone crazy when I saw your tail. It's really something lovely, you know."

She couldn't help blushing and shrugging.

"Seems more like a curse, sometimes."

"Why?"

"Because people would… it's not safe, for my kind."

"Merfolk?"

She nodded again, pulling her knees up to her chin.

The musician smiled gently, and gently placed a warm hand on her arm.

"It's okay. I don't think anyone here is like that… but your secret's safe with me. You're not the only non-human person I've met."

"Have you met a lot of merfolk?"

"No, you're my first, I'm proud to say," he answered, beaming.

She couldn't help a soft giggle, shaking her head.

"There we are… there's that lovely smile. Would you like a song to cheer you up?" He asked, pulling his favorite guitar from his back.

She nodded again, laying back down as he started to play.

"Let's hear a tale before we part,

About an apple sweet and tart…"

She listened until she couldn't help falling back asleep, his soft voice soothing her as well as any of her mother's lullabies.

Maybe it could be a wonderful life.

#my writing #rayne writes #fanfiction #august 2023 #harvest moon #story of seasons #sos awl #gustafa #gustafa x pc

[ikahimedi]

Killer on the Boat

"Have you caught a good one yet?" I asked, as I felt a tug on my fishing line.

"Come on, Aria, what do you expect? We'd be lucky to find two good fish in a week," Emmy replied.

I pulled up my fishing line. I looked at it, observing the tumor on its back with nearly no emotion. I saw fish like that all the time now, ever since the radioactivity from the bombs had spread to the lake just a few miles from camp. I held it behind my back and turned to Emmy.

"Guess where," I asked, starting a game we invented to guess where the next tumor on our fish would be. It made it a little easier to pretend like the infected animals weren't living, breathing creatures whose lives were affected by our actions.

"Mouth?" Emmy replied uncertainly.

I shook my head and brought out the fish. She gasped and wrung her delicate little fingers. I sighed. She could be so dramatic sometimes.  I turned away to stare at the waves for a while, then threw the fish back into the water, watching it sluggishly swim away. I turned back, and I saw the brim of a black cloak and felt the impact of hard, sturdy hands before I found myself falling through air, feeling the rush of wind between my fingers.

Somewhere in my subconscious, I thought, really?, just beginning to process what had just happened. Someone had tried to push me over the fishing boat into the water, theoretically to injure or kill me. Hah, I thought. I curved my body into a graceful dive and sliced through the air, disappearing into the deep water with barely a splash.

I had never been in this river before, mainly because of the sharp stones that never seemed to erode, and the whitewater rapids and small waterfalls that would pocket its otherwise smooth and calm surface. Thankfully, I landed in a calm spot, but I was drifting away fast.

 "Emmy!" I shouted.

"I'll throw you a live preserver!" she shouted back, almost too faint for me to hear. Even though I was in mortal danger, I found myself aware of  how amusingly theatrical the whole business was, just like those archaic 21st century movies mom liked. I caught the white ring and held on while Emmy tried to pull me back up and shouted for help.

Back on the ship, I sat in the sun and tried to dry my clothes the best I could before we had to head back to the forest. My mom would be worried if she found out if I had fallen into the water, even though the water itself wasn't radioactive. She was over concerned about these kinds of health issues even before the war started, and when it did, she whisked us away to a faraway neutral island that had been recently discovered to wait out the warfare. Little did she know that we would be one of the few hundred people left on the face of the Earth. Something like that had happened to almost everyone in camp. It was sad to see how much devastation World War III had caused. Emmy’s voice entered my conscious hearing as I resurfaced from my long-winded thoughts. "What even happened? You don’t seem like the type to fall off a boat,” she added hastily, as if she was afraid I’d take offense to her unsaid accusation.

“I think someone pushed me over the edge, but I’m really not sure. I think it was an accident,” I told her, trying not to give her any information that would cause her to jump to conclusions. I failed.

“There could be a killer on the loose! We have to find them before they can kill anyone else!” Emma squealed almost excitedly, forever the dark optimist. She could handle murderers in a small enclosed space with her, but not some ugly looking fish. Go figure. 

I didn’t bother contradicting her. It was better to go along with her assumptions. There were still a few hours of time before we had to go back to camp, we weren’t allowed to fish anymore today. It seemed like a good way to pass time, I figured. There was no one else on the deck at that time, so I began with a list of suspects.

“Who could have tried to push me off the boat for a personal motive?” I asked Emmy, since she had been here longer than I had and knew most of the people really well.

“Well, there’s Billy, and Valerie, and Dorin, and Brad, and that rude chef with a big knife, Trod-something,” she said, counting them off on her fingers.

“Anyone who was in the area at the time of the incident, or someone that I, oh, I don’t know, possibly ever interacted with me and had a reason to attempt murder?”

“Eh, no not really, unless you’re planning to suspect me. I was kinda busy thinking about that horrible fish you’d shown me, so I wasn’t paying that much attention to the other people on fishing duty,” she said sheepishly.

I sighed and buried my head in my hands. Well, this wasn’t actually a murder anyway, most likely, I tried to convince myself. But still, I conceded, if it was, this was a big problem for us all. I was pretty sure I had felt that push into the water, and the railings were quite high. My mind began to whir. There were plenty of people on this ship who might have had something against me, since we were all from different places which had been fighting against each other during the war. There were many people who hated each other for being part of the enemy country, maybe even to the point of murder. I was from America, and America had plenty of enemies, so many I could barely count them all. 

I decided to drop this theory for a while, and instead look at people I might have personally offended. I was relatively new here, so there weren’t that many enemies I had made, but there was this small group of girls that I had tried to befriend first coming here, but they were obviously the last people I should have tried to get along with. It was absolutely horrible. 

“What are you guys doing?” I had asked, watching them stare at the water.

“Oh, we’re just waiting.” they replied enigmatically.

“What are you waiting for?” I asked, trying to stay polite. 

They whispered amongst each other.

“Should we tell he-”

“No! What are we stupid?”

“Maybe we can do her next…”

They turned back to me, the leader of the group flipping her bright pink hair and clicking her heels.

“So we have this, like, thing, where we give someone a dare, and like, today it was Raya. Oh. My. God. She was so annoying I just couldn’t stand her face. We told her to go take a swim in the water, and she downright refused. To me. So we pushed her. It was so much fun.” She giggled girlishly. At that point, I tuned her out and looked at the other girls, who looked just as cruel and traitorous.

“Doesn’t she remind you of Raya? Such a wannabe,” one of them whispered.

My face burned, and I began to storm out. Just as I did, I felt Annoying Leader Girl’s obnoxiously hot pink nails dig into my back.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone else about this, or there’ll be hell to pay.” she said, glaring at me with such intensity I wanted to melt into a puddle of radioactive mush right there and then. I nodded, and she let go of my shoulder.

She flapped her hand, twisting her face into a disgusted expression for the amusement of her disciples, as if she was trying to get the dirty germs off. She flipped her hair and put on a wide smile, like a great white shark.

“Great. By the way, my name’s Sophie!” and went back to her clique.

Later I found out that Raya had nearly died, but some kind passengers had jumped in and dragged her to shore.

I crinkled my nose at the memory. 

“There is one person,” I told Emmy.

“How did you not remember this earlier?” Emmy asked in exasperation, leaning against the railing even though I had told her not to thousands of times. She loved being the dangerous, risk-taking detective, even if the only risk she was taking was leaning against a creaky railing.

“Well, it was as soon as I had come to camp, and right after getting off the boat, I saw you with that missing dog of yours and I  had forgotten about her until now,” I said, smiling at the memory. I had found Emmy at camp, right after I departed the ship and encountered the Special Sophie Society. She had been searching frantically for her pet dog, which we had eventually found soaking wet after a dip in the creek, clinging to a piece of driftwood and licking it as if it had the most expensive red wine splattered across it. 

“Fair enough,” she giggled, also, evidently, remembering the memory.

Her smile turned a bit wistful. She had to have the dog put down when he became too much to care for.

“So, do you think Sophie would have done it?” I asked her, trying to change the topic before she erupted into another fit of tears.

“I guess she could have been the murderer, but that would be no fun. Can’t we have a proper mystery for once? With clues, and a thrilling car chase? ” 

“First, we have to make sure it really is her. Don’t get your hopes down just yet,” I told her, not believing the words that were coming out of my mouth. Wow, she must have been rubbing off on me.

“WERE YOU THE ONE WHO PUSHED MY BEST FRIEND OVERBOARD, YOU MEANIE?” Emmy asked Sophie, leaning forward with her hands on her hips in just about the most imposing stance in the history of the world. Emmy could be terrifying if she wanted to be.

Sophie didn’t even bother to cower in fear. She checked her nails, cleaning out small specks of seaweed. 

“Ew. No. Why would I bother with, like, her?” shaking her head at the thought. She had obviously heard of my big ‘falling overboard’ story, almost everyone on board had.

Emmy brightened. She started to bounce on the balls of her toes, her hands clasped together. I tugged her down just as a maniacal grin began to spread on her face.

“ It could still be her,” I whispered.

She regained her common sense.

“Prove it.” she said, more of a statement than a plea.

“Well, you can ask, like, literally anyone with me. I was in the spa room all day long, getting myself a seaweed wrap.” she said, calling over a tall, dark haired girl as her witness.

I waved her away, turning to Emmy.

“We should go ask the workers,” I said. The spa was basically just a place where all the fancy rich kids, or some people looking to try something new,  would go to have their nails filed by some small children looking for a cent or two. The seaweed wrap Sophie was talking about involved covering your arms and legs with seaweed, staying like that for half a day, and then trying not to scream when you got it all off and saw how slimy everything was. I spoke, regretfully, from personal experience.

“Sure! Oh, this is going to be so much fun.” Emmy said, skipping towards the door. 

Sophie performed another extraordinarily flappy hair flip, exaggerated her rolling eyes, and left the room.

We picked our way through the hoards of people on board towards the main deck, where the chairs were set up for the day. Nobody seemed to mind the setup, since everything else was stinky and crowded anyways, and it was so heartwarming to see the small children smile brightly when somebody walked by.

I walked to some of the kids that I knew. I had never bothered to socialize with them too much, since they were so tiny and most of their time was used up massaging people’s legs, which I surely did not want to do.

“Hey, Robby!” I waved to him.

“Hi Aria! Hope you’re feeling better after that big fall!” he replied jovially.

So he knew. This would make the job a lot easier.

“Do you remember which customers you guys were serving around that time?” I asked him.

“Um, well, I only really remember Sophie, since she was being so annoying about her customer service,” he said, the loathing in his voice extremely obvious.

“That’s all I needed to know. Thanks!” I said, trying to conceal the frown on my face. 

If it wasn’t Sophie, then who was it?

“ATTENTION ALL PASSENGERS!!!!!!!!” the loudspeaker announced.

We all covered our ears.

“AHEM! Okay, I think that’s better now. Bring me my coke.” 

We cringed as his personal assistant dashed to a large box marked ‘Cap’s freezer’.

“People are reporting good fishing channels around this river. I’m going to be around here for as long as rations allow it. Word will be sent to your families, and NOBODY GETS OFF. We might want to do night shifts as well. EMMY, NO!” he said, preemptively answering Emmy’s volunteering hand.

All heads turned to Emmy.

She blushed and shrank down.

“Anyone who has been previously banned will NOT be allowed to fish on this expedition. The waters are extremely fast, and I don’t want a death on my hands.” he said.

Could he be the one who tried to push me overboard? Was he using reverse engineering now? I put him on my list of suspects.

Emmy leaned over my shoulder.

“Oohh, that’s a good one. And, he probably wants to kill everybody on this ship, pick them off, one by one, until he can venture to new lands all by himself and conquer the remaining population,” she whispered, jiggling her fingers near my face.

“Eh, why not.” I said. This whole thing was absurd anyways. Although, I didn’t suppose the captain would be so murderous.

He would keep himself a skeleton crew of servants.

I tried not to make any noise as I climbed up the stairs to the captain’s cabin. He was truly a horrible man, who didn’t truly care much about others and wanted to take as much advantage of his position as he could, taking all the prime food and electricity from our few solar grids to power the only iPad on the base, which, coincidentally, belonged to him. He was super self-obsessed, flashing a “handsome” grin at everyone he passed and wearing what he considered “fashionable”, but actually made him look like he was wearing a blanket of whale skin. He was only elected captain because fishing was essential and he was the sole person who vaguely knew how to work a boat. Of course, we could have fished ashore, but there were too many rocks and not enough opportunities or ground space, and the only fish stupid enough to wander around the jagged rocks were the radioactive ones.

I was extremely nervous about what I was going to say to the captain, so I began to rehearse it all in my head before I had to actually say anything. I considered starting off with regular conversation and then hinting at my accident, but the doorway appeared too soon and I began to consider stopping and turning back.

Emmy would have murdered me, so I forged forward.

The door was open, so I stepped through it nervously, hoping both that the captain was present so I could get this over with, and hoping he was somewhere else so I could have more time to overthink this.

“Ah! If it isn’t for our very own on-board daredevil!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide and smiling to reveal his pearly whites.

“What?”

“That little stunt you pulled, jumping into the water. Oh, it was dangerous, but it reminds me just of how I used to act in the good old days,” he told me with a reminiscent smile on his face.

“Um…”

I slowly backed out of the room.

“So, you were here to see me?” he asked me, raising his eyebrows suspiciously.

“Yes,”

“Well then, what for?”

“I just wanted to check out an, um, an, um, estimate, of how long, um, we will be… staying here!” I said, hoping he wouldn’t see through my lie and also scanning his monologue on the announcer to check whether he had already given one.

“Oh, well, I’m not really sure, but I’m confident that we will find some good fish soon!” he said, and I practically melted with relief as my spine relaxed and I sauntered out of the room, feeling like the queen of the world.

I wasn’t sure what to make of the conversation I had just had, but it seemed that the captain absolutely did not want anyone to think that this was something intentional, since it would spoil the reputation of his boat. He also, apparently, thought I was five.

It could also just be that he thought I was feeling hot and wanted a dip in the lake. 

Obviously, the rumor had twisted quite a bit as it traveled throughout the boat.

Still, the captain was not to be taken lightly after today’s events.

I immediately went to Emmy and reported my findings. 

She decided to begin writing a book about our recent adventures. 

Of course, running around with Emmy wasn’t the only thing I did on the boat. When I returned to my room, I found one of my other friends waiting on my bed for me.

“Hi Aria!” she said. She was the ‘bright and bubbly’ kind of person, the person you’d go to for book recommendations and the kind of person who always got A++++s at school on every test. At least, for the moment. She changed her personality every week. Last week, it was ‘super sassy’ and I could barely stand her. 

“Glad we got past last week,” she said with a smile.

“I was definitely avoiding you on purpose,” I admitted.

“I know. TBH, I kind of hated myself. But hey, I picked out the personality,” she said, shrugging while I marveled at how far ‘TBH’ had come. Apparently, it was super common in the olden times, but now people only used it when they were being uber personal.

“Are you okay after your, like, fall on the boat?” she asked.

My eyes widened. Had Kelly been the one? I dismissed the thought, but it still haunted the back of my mind. If she could have done it, I reasoned, even Emmy could have been the murderer.

“Yeah. Just a bit rattled,” I added, to make it look like I wasn’t just trying to act tough.

“Cool. I just came by to see whether you wanted to go get some snacks. I can’t stand the thought of going to that horrible place alone.”

“Maybe later. I’m kind of busy right now,” I said. I didn’t want to involve her in our investigation, since the less people involved, the easier and faster solving the whole thing would be.

A while later, I decided that I should  go and check out the food rations with Emmy, to get a feel for how long we’d be here.

“Come on, I want to see if the captain really does have enough time to kill us all slowly and not have to return to shore until he’s satisfied,” I said to Emmy.

She smiled and ran to the supply room, which was supposed to be off-limits.

I was scared to death of being caught. I slowly tiptoed towards the third door on the hallway, wincing at every creak of the rotten old floorboards. A waiter made his way down the hall.

“Oh. My. God.”

“Why is there so much stuff?”

“WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE AT THE HANDS OF THE CAPTAIN!!”

“How come they don’t give us any of the canned chicken?”

It was basically the two of us in an enormous, gargantuan, so-many-supplies-I-don’t-have-any-words room filled to the brim with non-perishable food.

We were doomed.

If, that is, the captain was evil. 

It all could also be a big mistake and some random person was actually the psychopathic murderer who thought I looked like a good practice suspect for a larger murder, like the murder of the president of a country nobody has ever heard of, like, Nauru or something. He was actually staying at our base, so that was a possible theory. I decided to drop the captain lead, since that just made me more depressed, but I didn’t cross it off my suspect list.

Emmy politely excused herself to the bathroom, where I heard a hoard of gagging sounds and fearful sobbing.

I left upstairs to see what I could do. I heard the bathroom door open, but I decided to give Emmy some alone time. 

Stretching out on a lounge chair, I opened my newest book savoring the feel of a fresh new page.

I started on page one.

I was on page 467 when I heard a scream echo in the distance.

I raced to the dining room, where the sound seemed to have originated. Where was Emmy when I needed her? I could totally use her mood lightening commentary right now,  since my brain was already cooking up worst-case scenarios for everything. 

The boat was generally a quiet place, and there was never any commotion, save for the recent events and the Special Sophie Society disaster.

My feet skid on the old wood as I screeched to a halt in the doorway of the mess hall. They tried to maintain the dignity of the little food we had to eat, but nobody really bothered to keep decorum. It was a disaster, people talking to each other so loudly that I could barely hear myself think, some old, moldy food on the ground being carried away by a team of ants, and small children spilling water everywhere. I tried to identify who had screeched, but I couldn’t figure it out.

Then I saw the cluster of people around a young boy in a bright blue shirt.

He seemed to be telling everyone about something horrible that had just happened. He was around eight, just four years younger than I was.

I walked closer to the huddle.

“And then, that mean kid over there-”

“Which mean kid?” I interrupted.

“That one.” he said, pointing to the kitchen.

He frowned.

“Huh, she’s gone.” he said. He swiveled his head around, reminding me uncomfortably of a snowy owl with his blond hair whipping around, but couldn’t seem to spot her.

“That’s okay, tell me if you see her again,” I said.

I gave him a go on motion.

“Yeah, okay, so, then she came up to me and,” he shuddered, “she had a big fat butcher’s knife and she had me cornered while I was on kitchen volunteering duty, and then she tried to carve me up like a big fat hunk of beef. I screamed as loud as I could, ducked under her, and bolted. I heard a loud clatter, so I think she might have dropped the knife and fled from the scene as well,” he said. He sounded pretty smart, but this was concerning news. I now knew that this killer was a girl, and I didn’t even know if the murder attempts were by the same people or representatives of some evil cult. The worrying part was, this was clearly not a mistake. Someone had truly evil intent in their hearts. The killer would strike again soon, I knew it, but I didn’t know how soon. 

“Did you get a good look at her face?” I asked, hoping desperately that he did. 

“Kind of ish?” he said.

I sighed.

Suddenly, Emmy came up to the group. I ran over and hugged her.

“Okay, come on. The murderer struck again!” I whispered into her ear.

Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of Kelly in the background.

I let go of Emmy and tried to turn to talk to her, but she turned sharply and exited.

She was really looking suspicious now. 

“I have a friend named Kelly, I think she might have done something. I haven’t been spending that much time with her recently, and maybe she had a grudge against the little kid or something,” I said to her, already leading the way to Kelly’s cabin.

“I don’t think-” Emmy said, looking uncharacteristically embarrassed.

“Yes you do. Come on,” I whined, tugging her sleeve.

We pushed the door open and found her crying on the bed.

“See what I mean?” Emmy whispered.

Kelly looked up.

“Just go away.” 

We obliged.

“Wait, why did we just rule her out like that?” Emmy asked as she followed me down the hall.

“Ah, see, but we didn’t just rule her out,” I told her smugly.

I took an assured right turn and arrived at what I thought was the right cabin area.

“I’ve been asking around a bit while you were in the shower, and I think this could  help us come further in our investigation.”

I opened the door and saw the young boy again sitting on his UFO-themed bed.

“Hi!” he said.

“I didn’t catch your name in the dining hall earlier, I just wanted to ask a few questions about what had happened. I think that someone might have tried to push me overboard too.” I said.

“Oh. My name’s Evan,” he said, not sure how to continue.

“Okay, I’ll take it from here. What color was the girl’s hair?” Emmy asked.

“I couldn’t really see. She had a black hoodie on, and her face was kind of shadowed.”

“Was she really tall, or super short, or what?” I broke in.

“Well, she was pretty average sized, kind of around you guys’ height”

Emmy stood a bit taller.

“Chillax, he doesn’t mean it’s one of us,” I said to her.

“Plus,” I added, “Kelly is super-short. There is no way he could confuse someone our size with her. And, I really doubt that she owns any ‘hoodies’. They’re so antique.”

“Who knows?” Emmy shrugged.

“Do you think you can remember anything else that might help identify her?” I said, turning back to Evan.

“No… But are you guys trying to find the killer? Could I help?” he asked eagerly. Someone had read a few too many mystery books.

“Aren’t you worried they might strike again?” I asked him.

“Exactly! We have to catch them before they do!” he exclaimed, still excited.

I sighed. There would be no convincing this child.

“Okay, fine. But you can’t do anything dangerous, and you have to tell me,” Emmy glared at me, “-us, everything, okay?”

“Sure! Sometimes, I don’t brush my teeth at night,” he whispered.

I did a facepalm.

“Oh, like the-the-um, sure, yeah, um, okay,” he muttered.

“Mhm. So, now, let’s get started. Emmy, I want you to go to the captain again and see how he reacts to Evan’s near-death. Evan, I want you to go and make me a list of everyone that hates you, and I will go and visit all of Sophie’s friends, to see what they say to all this nonsense,”

I was so excited I was almost trembling. I’d have to start a diary soon. My life was getting so eventful, just like the audiobooks I loved to listen to.

Evan trudged off to his desk, while Emmy slowly extracted herself from the dent she made in his bed, and I marched off to my room.

First off:

Ava.

She was easily the most evil of all of Sophie’s gang. 

She. was. Absolutely. HORRIBLE.

She was the one in the purple sequin vest, that one girl at school that just thinks she owns the world.

That one girl who pretends to be her friend and then pushes the brainiac with glasses into the mud and then asks about its corrosive properties to human skin.

Her.

I walked down to the spa, where she was getting her nails glitterized, also known as putting-dirt-on-top-of-sea-gunk-on-top-of-your-nails.

“Hey Aria!” she said in a sing-songy voice as she used her free hand to adjust her immaculate ponytail.

I glared at her.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I am after the fall?” I said in a flat voice.

“Well, you’re here, so you must be okay,” she tried innocently.

“Aren’t you curious how it happened?” I asked her.

“Why would I care?” she sounded genuinely confused now.

“Oh, I think you would if I told you someone pushed me in,”

“What?! Oh, and now you think I did it, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“Well, I didn’t. You can ask Sophie. We were all in the spa at that time, except for Mia.”

“And I believe what you say. Totally.”

“Go ask!” she nearly yelled, sounding exasperated.

“Okay, okay, chill,” I said, on the defensive now.

I knew she would expect me to go verify all this, since Sophie must have told them about my investigation and inquiries around here.

It should be fine, I figured.

I could ask around later.

But for now, she’d given me a lead.

“Emmy?” I called. I had already looked for her in the captain’s cabin and in her room, and now I was stuck wandering the deck and hallways.

“EMMY!” I shouted after a few more calls. I was beginning to get worried, and with a killer on the loose, who knew what could have happened to her. I wanted to tell her my latest theory.

Sophie had mentioned that Mia wasn’t with the Sophie Society at the time of my fall, and all I had to do now was ask around some more to see where she was when Evan was attacked. I ran to her cabin. She wasn’t there either. I went to the bathroom on each floor, checking under the stalls and peering around the walls at the rusty sinks. Nothing.

My heart began to race. She wasn’t in any of her usual hiding spots.

I ran around, asking everyone if they’d seen her. Maybe she was above deck, but that was one of the worst places to be with the fishy scent that she had always hated.

She was so scared of the murderer, the fact that we might be stuck here forever. And then, she goes missing? Something didn’t add up, and I was afraid it was staring me right in the face.

I rushed to Mia’s room.

I found a knife, a pool of blood, a lifeless body on the floor.

I screamed as the knife was pressed against my throat.

And then I was  fall

    ing

  in

to

      the

    void.

I woke to find Emmy staring at me concernedly.

I slapped her across the face.

“Shoot,” she muttered.

#Shortstory #adventure #murder #boat #suspense #mystery

[sbpstudios]

Ballad of the Sea Witch

It was by pure chance, Ellie knew that now. Fate was never in play, she just happened to be at the right place at the right time.

Of course, back then. She had no way of knowing this. She had no idea what the undine’s offer really meant.

She was promised adventure, glory and stories to tell.

She was what? Fourteen. Young, not at all wise enough to see this for the trick it was in truth. She was a fool.

A fool that took the undine’s hand and followed it to a land right out of the fairytales she grew up reading and wishing she could live.

Truly it was like a fairytale. She was a chosen hero meant to protect the world from monsters. Like all the other people of the order she was welcomed too with open arms and hearts.

She reveled in the power over the seas and streams and springs of this fairy world. She would spend hours practicing, honing her skills.

She wondered if when she went home, she would get to keep this magic.

She used to dream about showing off her power to her family and friends. And that cute girl next door.

“We don’t get to go home.” one of the older chosen ones told her. The sorrow behind his eyes, the sorrow etched in his face. “Nobody has ever left this place. Once they steal you away, they never give you back.”

She remembers how he held her when she wept. Screaming how that couldn’t be right, how that couldn’t be true.

She doesn’t remember a whole lot after that. Her days started to blur together. Only the overwhelming hurt being clear. It was then she gained her reputation, as the strongest chosen one of Weeping Heart.

The name of the order is accurate. She noticed early that the experienced ones were always sad.

She sees why now.

She wonders if the name is intentional on Their part. Although the answer hardly matters.

She remembers the moment she fell. The way she let herself sink into the sea once she couldn’t feel anything anymore. When all her tears ran dry.

Her time as a true monster is even more of a blur. She didn’t need to think, really. Salmon monsters don’t need to think.

She remembers back home, she watched a documentary on salmon. Their drive to return to where they were born, how they would turn into monstrous things, and when they finally came to the end of their journey they would die.

It’s funny how that’s what she became.

It’s sad the thought that even if she found a way home. She may very well die.

It took a long time. Too come to her senses again. To remember who she was before. What all she lost.

But it was worth it. She hopes.

She remembers washing on shore. Gasping for air. She wasn’t a fish monster anymore. But she certainly wasn’t human again either.

She thought about some of those old fairy tales. The mermaid who gave up her voice for legs to chase the chance of getting an eternal soul. Or the princess cursed to be a swan by day, but by night and by lake water, turned human again.

They were her favorite stories growing up.

They were both tragedies.

How funny is it? That she’s living those old fairy tales. All their pain included.

She didn’t have it in her to be bitter. Those old stories were one of the few things she had tying her back home. And she wasn’t about to lose anything else.

She remembers the chosen ones sent after her.

She remembers her first kill. And her second, and her third, fourth, fifth.

She started losing track after chosen one number twelve.

She pitted every last one of them. They were fools like her, weren’t they? They hadn’t a clue what being a ‘chosen one’ really meant for them. That they could end up like her too, couldn’t they?

But just because she pitted them, doesn’t mean she would let herself die.

They started to call her “The Sea Witch”.

She laughed when she heard the Wild Hunt chosen call her that.

She almost cried when she killed him.

But she has no more tears to shed.

Monsters don’t cry.

#spook's writing #Ellie the Sea Witch #chosen one project #orginal character #original writing

[cherryrehab]

Lanceolate | Chapter 3

POV: You're a Zaunite fishmonger/fishwife and a blue-haired gangly girlchild comes to buy a fish in a bag from the tank because she found out her dad is into fish. (CHAPTER 1) (CHAPTER 2)

The cobblestone beneath your feet is unforgiving, yet at this point the soles of your feet are so numb you can barely feel it. Heels barely grazing the ground, your legs carry you forward automatically. You never thought you’d find kinship with prey animals but here you are. Thighs chafing, calves burning, toes numb from the cold, you focus on gripping the ledger closer to the left side of your body.

One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three.

Pacing your breathing is harder that you remember. You wonder if he’s not far behind you. You want so badly to turn your head to see him, but it would give him another advantage on top of those surprisingly long legs.

You wonder if his breathing is rushed at all, if you’re imagining his growling breaths. The sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own wracking breaths make it impossible to tell.

One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three.

The deeper you enter back into the promenade district the harder it becomes to keep your cool. In the dockyard, the open, emptied space, gave you an advantage in running but now – dodging tarped wooden stalls, shimmer addicts, puddles of grime and maybe blood, navigating twists and turns, jumping, skidding – you’re in for a treat.

Your chest is now on fire. The harder you run the harder you breathe, and the cold breeze is unforgiving on your lungs and nose, the back of your throat is itching, eyes previously dry from the cold are now damp from stressed tears that refuse to fall.

One, two, three. One, two, three.

Every single fiber in your body feels as though it’s pulled as taut as it can be, and an irrational fear that if you slip and fall, you’ll snap like a rubber band floats by the back of your mind almost comically. It feels as though you’re the one doing the chasing.

The closer you come to your home the surer you are that leading this man to your home is a very bad idea. Just thinking about the man chasing you getting his hands on you is making you nauseous.

I get home then what? Then what? He’ll probably ounce on me and break me open like he did that poor man and he’ll kill me, he’ll kill me, I’ll be done for. Who’s going to feed the fish when I’m dead? Who will Mikhail hire?

Oh, Gods, oh Gods. Breathe, breathe.

Onetwothree. Onetwo–BANG!

Lost in your head, tunnel vision worsening, you’d completely lost track of your surroundings, failing to see the wooden cart in front of you. Colliding into it, tipping it over, five dozen apricots spill all over the street. As you push your hands forward to brace your fall, hopefully saving your teeth, the ledger slides underneath you.

Your knees land painfully on the cobblestone, and you let out a horse howl, throat completely battered by the cold air you’d breathed in. In a daze, body pulsing, you immediately scramble for the ledger and rise, hacking out a cough.

Just as you manage to stand and push aside the now-barren wheelbarrow a vice grip wraps around your elbow and pulls you back. Your back collides with your hunter’s chest.

"Stop. Fucking. Running,” the man behind you rasps out. Each word coming out in a tattered croak. It seems like your throat wasn’t the only victim of tonight’s temperature.

You jolt and gasp, completely having forgotten about him. At some point, between the ice-cold breaths, adrenaline, swat and burning muscles your body had begun running on autopilot – like a wild animal you’d run forward, unthinkingly. Suddenly, it all becomes real and a new rush of adrenaline, weak, useless but still there, floods your muscles, yet all you can do is hang your head and try not to upchuck your meager dinner.

Behind you, the man has already begun ventilating normally, and, deliriously, you’re a little jealous of his body’s ability to bounce back so fast after that frantic 10-minute chase. Your knees are still trembling.

Given what he did to that man tonight, he probably just hunts people down all the time, you try to console your ego and–oh no, that man. The crunch of bone comes to your mind for a second time tonight and you gasp again, body going completely limp. The man huffs, and his other hand comes to wrap around your waist, the grip on your arm tightening hard enough to bruise.

“Turn around.”

The answer comes out before you can even stop it.

“No.”

You hear a strangled chortle, and something about that sound causes goose bumps to erupt all over your skin. In a flash he manhandles you to him, turns you around, and shoves you to the wall of a nearby alleyway. Out of the corner of your eye you can see a few flies buzzing all over the bruised-open peaches.

“Look at me,” the man’s voice brokers no room for disagreement.

Finally, you gather all your leftover courage and meet his eyes.

Oh, fuck.

He is not a handsome man, but it makes him even more beautiful a creature. The eye you had assumed was glowing because of the moonlight has in fact a pitch back sclera and the shining is coming from the iris – a bright fluorescent orange that is making unrelenting contact with your own eyes. Something about his eye grates at something at the back of your mind – you’re missing something.

There is a woeful nobility to the line of his jaw and the slope of his nose that had gone unrecognized in the dockyard, your slight nearsightedness be damned. Those strands that he’d so gracefully tucked back a few moments ago had come loose again, to your repressed delight.

Something about the sharp planes of his face is intrinsically beguiling. Beguiling – you’re sure if you voiced that thought it’d be the last time you’d be voicing anything.

The man arches a graceful brow at your silent dissection, and you wonder when the last time was someone dared to look at him so closely. You hope your admiration is not apparent. Maybe it is, because your continued, awed silence makes the one of the corners of his lips twitch.

His amusement embarrasses you and right as you’re about to open your mouth and make a fool of yourself again, the hunter’s eyes cut down to the ledger clutched to your chest – cold recognition dousing the fire of his amusement.

One of the hands that’s braced against the wall, caging you between his warm body and the cold cobblestone at your back, moves to pull the ledger away from your stiff arms. Shocked, you let him have it. You’re not going to risk angering him further and you’re sure as hell not going to do that for Mikhail.

“I assume you must work for Mikhail,” he says matter-of-factly. Your jaw drops, but you recover and nod your head. Suddenly, that tickling in the back of your mind gets stronger.

His eye. The eye. This man is Silco.

Your mouth dries up. This is the man your idiot boss has been smuggling shimmer for. You don’t know how many degrees of separation lie between this man and your boss, but in a roundabout way you suppose he’s your boss now too?

Silco’s eyes twinkle with mirth, while his eyebows climb up his forehead I surprise. You realise you’ve just said that last part out loud.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he concedes. Silco looks down at you again, scrutinizing you like never before. You wonder what he sees. You know you’re still a little flushed from the chase, baby hair wet with sweat and sticking to your forehead, eyes probably still slightly glazed over.

“Given your surprise, and your mediocre run,” you squeak in indignation. “I assume Mikhail has kept you in the dark about his business.”

“Yeah,” you mumble out, when he waits for your answer expectantly.

"Well,” he begins, pulling his other hand from the wall, “in that case, you’re forgiven for wasting my time.” Menace leaks into that last part but you’re too busy missing his arms caging you into the wall to even register it.

As he pulls away from you fully, you take in the rest of him. His complements his body and visage gorgeously. The reds, blacks and dark greys, cut with a beautiful gold trim only enhance his predator-like grace and –

Enough.

While you pull your eyes up, feeling your ears pink, you notice a familiar blue blotch staining the pads of his index and middle fingers of his right hand. In fact, a couple of more blue blotches stain Silco’s clothes, unnoticeable if one doesn’t pay close attention. If one doesn’t know where they’re from.

Your suspicions feel foolish, but after tonight you’re not keen on mistrusting your instincts again. But still, this man? This man? Fathering that darling, thoughtful, mischievous little girl?

“A–are you,” Silco’s eyes quickly move back towards your face and his raised eyebrow implores you to speak.

“Are you Jinx’s father?” you mumble out and push your hair to the side as to obscure your gaze from his intense semi-glare. Your curiosity will get you killed one day. Silco prowls back towards you, closing in on you again, this time with a much, much more menacing aura.

“How do you know her,” he hisses out, “Talk.”

Dazed with fear, and perhaps with a little bit of awe, you nonsensically utter:

“Did you like the fish?"

Silco’s head whips back animatedly, well as animatedly as this man could possibly get, and his brow furrows.

“What?”

“Jinx,” at the utterance of her name his eyes narrow in a silent threat again, “she came to my shop, Mikhail sells fish, and she said that you liked them. She said you liked fish and that she wanted to give you a gift and she–she,” you take a deep breath, slowing down your rapid breathing, “I–I gave her one of the rainbow fish she picked out as your gift.”

At this point, you’ve closed your eyes, preparing for the worst. It doesn’t come – maybe it does? – when a soft chuckle tumbles out of Silco’s lips, warming your chest. You peek at him from under your lashes and the warmth in his eyes flusters you in a way you couldn’t have thought possible.

The tips of his ears have blushed, and he looks so vulnerable in front of you, a stranger, that you wonder if he killed you and this is some death-bed fever dream your rotting mind has conjured up.

He notices your anxiety and clears his throat. Pushing his hair back, he reconstitutes his façade again, and before you is the man you saw first tonight. Beautiful as the night, and twice as cold.

“I did.”

“Huh?”

He huffs, “thank you. I did like the fish.”

With that, he gives you a final nod and tells you that he’ll let Mikhail know you’ve fulfilled your duty, disappearing into the alleyways of the promenade.

“Goodnight,” you whisper into the dark, your feet dragging you home, wondering how the hell is this your life.

#silco x reader

[embyrinitalics]

The Willing "Waste" of Art

In its opening chapters, The Gift explores the concept of first-fruit rituals in various cultures. One of them is a Maori hunting ritual:

The Maori have a word, hau, which translates "spirit," particularly the spirit of the gift and the spirit of the forest which gives food. In these tribes, when hunters return from the forest with birds they have killed, they give a portion of the kill to the priests, who, in turn, cook the birds at a sacred fire. The priests eat a few of them and then prepare a sort of talisman, the mauri, which is the physical embodiment of the forest hau. This mauri is a gift the priests give back to the forest, where, as a Maori sage once explained to an Englishman, it "causes the birds to be abundant..., that they may be slain and taken by man."

This ceremony that the priests perform is called whangai hau, which means "nourishing hau." The talisman feeds the spirit, which is then empowered to provide more birds, and the cycle goes on.

In one sense, we all know the mauri isn't actually what causes the birds to be abundant. But in another sense it is: without this ceremony, the hunters might begin to think of the forest as a place to turn a profit and begin to overtax and exploit their natural resources. Whangai hau serves as a reminder of their relationship with nature and engenders feelings of gratitude. "The forest's abundance is in fact a consequence of man's treating its wealth as a gift."

Other examples include the first-fruit rituals of the Mosaic Law (wherein firstborn animals were given to the priests to be sacrificed), and the Salmon Welcoming rituals of the North Pacific tribes (the first salmon is celebrated, divided for all to eat, and then its bones returned to the water intact, lest the fish be offended and not return the following year). The main elements of these ceremonies are alike—part of the received gift is eaten, and part is returned, and "the objects of the ritual remain plentiful because they are treated as gifts."

160 pages later, The Gift circles back around to apply these lessons to the artist:

Just as treating nature's bounty as a gift ensures the fertility of nature, so to treat the products of the imagination as gifts ensures the fertility of the imagination... The salmon are not subject to the will of the Indians; the imagination is not subject to the will of the artist.

That sounds poetic on paper. But how does one practically do that, and, more to the point, does it work?

The fruit of the creative spirit is the work of art itself, and if there is a first-fruits ritual for artists, it must be the willing "waste" of art (in which one is happy to labor all day with no hope of production, nothing to sell, nothing to show off, just fish thrown back into the sea as soon as they are caught)... It is the artistic equivalent of the Maori ceremony. For a creative artist, "feeding the spirit" is as much a matter of attitude or intent as it is of any specific action; the attitude is, at base, the kind of humility that prevents the artist from drawing the essence of his creation into the personal ego... The artist who is nourishing hau is not self-aggrandizing, self-assertive, or self-conscious, he is, rather, self-squandering, self-abnegating, self-forgetful... "a carefree letting go of oneself".

I thought I ought to give that a try. So I sat down with a notebook and a pen, determined to write down whatever felt like coming out, and then burn the page (metaphorically speaking, of course).

Let me start off by saying that this was literally terrifying. My heart raced. Writing is important to me, and I've spent the last eight(ish) months drowning in the worst creative slump of my life. I managed to put out a chapter of a story (which was mostly finished before the slump started), but that was more like breaching the surface and gasping for air before getting shoved back down than it was actually making my way to dry land.

So to sit down and waste what tiny bit of creative energy I had on writing something that I was going to burn? Yikes. But I decided to be brave and try it anyway.

(The Gift assured me that "we can understand what seems at first to be a paradox of gift exchange: when the gift is used, it is not used up. Quite the opposite, in fact: the gift that is not used will be lost, while the one that is passed along remains abundant." But if I believed it—and I seemed to think I did, with how many times I underlined it—I hadn't quite internalized the truth of it yet.)

The first word that comes to mind to describe the experience is Liberating? But I think that doesn't really capture it. It was less about freedom and more about freeness. I felt glowy. I dipped down into emotional undercurrents I haven't touched in a while and just let them take me downriver. I made it as chewy as I wanted. And I actually made myself cry with some of what I put down. I didn't worry about how to start it (I'm just going to burn it anyway); I didn't worry about the imagery choices making sense (I'm just going to burn it anyway); I didn't worry about trying to be profound (I'm just going to burn it anyway).

In the end I didn't actually show it to no one. I thought my mom would really like it so I sent it to her. I let my husband read it. But I definitely wrote with the attitude and intention of showing it to no one. A few days later I did it again, with similar results.

I won't overstate the power of this exercise. The creative forces of the universe have not mystically aligned so that I suddenly have access to great imaginative wellsprings that were hitherto inaccessible in response to my small first-fruit gift. But I am able to sit down and work on my pieces without terror. I'm no longer paralyzed with fear of writing wastefully.

Which, at this point, honestly does feel a bit mystical.

#The Gift #writing #writers #art #artists #not Zelda #long post