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solomons-finest-rum · 9 months

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“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 4 (FINALE)

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I feel like, perhaps, that is enough said in that little Alfie corner of mine. I'm not sure if I will return with any more stories. Thank you so much for the support along the way! I love you all dearly. One more note, some dialogue here is directly stolen from the show, because it was just too good not to.

💗💗💗💗💗

WORD COUNT — 2,434

Masterlist

You stayed observant through that bizarre meeting at Tommy’s equally bizarre mansion and gathered information as quietly and efficiently as you were taught to do. As you quickly learned, in Tommy’s new circles nobody suspected women of anything. This, you suspected, would surely be their downfall.

Jack Nelson was as infuriating as you had expected him to be. Not only did he insult your entire family by pretty much assuming you all still lived in caravans and told fortunes, he continued to be offensive even when he didn’t speak. Which wasn’t often. The man loved to hear the sound of his own voice and didn’t try to hide it.

Your infamous sister-in-law, Gina Gray, didn’t take too kindly to another woman present at the table—but seeing as she had felt so emboldened to restructure the Shelby organisation pretty much straight off the boat, you didn’t pay her any mind. She earned herself no favours with her ill-placed boldness.

What did amuse you most was the perpetual scowl on Lady Diana’s face, along with Oswald Mosley’s poorly concealed surprise at your presence. For a split of a second you regretted you had agreed to the plan. Perhaps you should have stayed in Margate… As your husband would say, life was so much easier when you were dead.

But it was too late to dwell on it. Somehow, both sides of your family came to accept a consensus those weeks ago, when the Shelbys invaded your seaside sanctuary on a misguided rescue mission. If there ever was a moment to compare your life to “Beauty and the Beast,” that would probably have been it.

Now one foot in the Shelby camp, one with the Solomonses, you really had to try very hard not to laugh in Jack Nelson’s face when he opened his mouth once more and the following came out:

“So you’re the sister,” he pointed to Ada whose scowl in comparison to Lady Diana’s was truly unmatched, “you’re the aunt,” he looked at Polly, “and you… You are cousins with Thomas, which I suppose makes you the sister-in-law to my favourite niece. How queer.”

“Astute observation,” you muttered.

Jack Nelson remained unaffected. It seemed he could only pay attention to the words he spoke, the rest was lost to him.

“So it seems you and I are in the minority, Mr. Mosley. This,” Jack let out a humourless chuckle, “this feels too much like a witch coven and too little like a business meeting. Meant no offence, ladies.”

“Oh, Jack, you’re so blunt!” Gina rolled her eyes and gladly accepted her drink from Mosley.

“How refreshing,” sighed Lady Diana, “a man who isn’t careful with his words.”

Fish out of water, you didn’t comment, but Polly then spoke for the both of you:

“Yes, surely speaking your mind around gangsters should prove most beneficial.” She lit a cigarette in her usual dramatic way and handed you a match. You lit yours, too.

Jack looked at you both with an incredulous look, then let out a most uncomfortable chortle.

“I can see the family resemblance, you know…” He pointed towards you then turned to Gina. “Doesn’t she look just like Michael with that stony stare? I wondered… I wondered, sister dear, if you weren’t a fake, but now I see the Shelbys have not one lying bone in their bodies.”

How about the Solomonses?, you thought to yourself, but otherwise responded by leaning back in your seat and blowing out the cigarette smoke at the ceiling. Fortunately, the details of your marriage remained undisclosed for non-family members, because they weren’t yet useful.

And you didn’t consider the Americans your family.

Your indifference didn’t earn you any allies, but at least it seemed that Jack Nelson was most content when monologuing, so you let it be. Better they thought you a moron instead of suspecting the plot.

“Now, see, this is what I was hoping to hear from Thomas Shelby himself, but I wonder… What does Shelby Company Limited actually do?” Jack asked then, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

Oh, he thinks himself so smart, you thought, still silent as a grave.

Ada glared at him instead, like one might at a roach, and you started to wonder how many in the present company were actually holding any weapons. Gina looked too doped to care, you reasoned, and Lady Diana would never get her hands dirty, this much you could already tell after having known her for about thirty minutes. Jack might be carrying a piece and Mosley too, but both looked entirely too placated and confident in the company of women.

Of course, having predicted your fiery nature, you remained under strict orders from Tommy not to murder anyone. Yet. Alfie judged him well, you thought. Tommy truly could read anyone’s character like an open book.

But, as things stood, you were under no orders that concerned you plotting, and so you plotted in silence. Killing one of them would probably mean the other would attack immediately, but which would be easier to subdue should the occasion arise? You considered that precise conundrum when the door to the parlour opened once more and in it stood Tommy Shelby.

“Apologies for the delay, gentlemen. Ladies.”

Now Tommy, you reasoned, he’d probably be greatly opposed to you starting a shootout in his home, but then he wouldn’t dare to kill you, not in front of Polly, and probably not while Alfie still drew breath. But by gods, you were growing tired of Jack Nelson’s tongue.

As Tommy sat down, a cigarette between his lips and a glass of Irish whiskey in his hand, you looked him in the eye and let yourself smile just a little. As far as cousins went, Tommy wasn’t so terrible.

“Tommy,” Gina cajoled. “Care to finally clue us in?”

“In what?” Tommy asked, his face a stony mask that revealed nothing, but somehow you already knew he despised the woman just as much as you all did.

Despite Jack Nelson’s sincerest efforts in assumption, though, your family wasn’t yet adept in mind reading and further explanations had to follow:

“Now, Mr. Shelby, Gina tells me this young lady there, your cousin, was presumed dead for the past decade or so,” said Mosley. “How curious indeed. I wonder why she is then present at the meeting? Is she sympathetic to the cause?”

The thought of a shootout came back to you like lightning. This time you got slightly panicky. You had no idea where the fascist’s reasoning would lead and you didn’t want to find out.

Tommy looked at him as he lit his cigarette, then back at you to give you the tiniest nod of approval. You almost laughed. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe his grandfather’s gift truly allowed him to hear your thoughts.

“So not only can you Shelbys reach the dead, you can also raise them. My, my, Mr. Shelby, that will soon prove to be a very useful skill,” Mosley commented and Diana gave him a brilliant smile.

These people, you concluded, were trained parrots and fucking idiots. With the exception, perhaps, to Gina, who all in all seemed to have been trained in nothing.

“That remains to be seen.” Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette.

“Seeing as we’re all women and scarcely any men here,” Jack swiftly changed the subject, “I wonder where the husbands are? Are they not involved in family meetings?”

An ice-cold shiver went through you and Polly grasped your hand in hers to stop you from reacting. But you already felt panic settle in. Either this was idle talk or Jack Nelson wasn’t as ill-informed as you had judged him.

“Mine’s sadly dead now,” Ada answered sharply to Jack Nelson’s provocation, “but of course we speak often.”

If looks could kill, the one she sent Jack would burn him to a crisp. You smirked at the thought.

“Well, I’m bored now,” Gina announced and Ada rolled her eyes at the bratty behaviour. “Are we waiting for anyone else? Or can we finally get to business?”

Funny she should speak of business, you thought, seeing as she had no say in any. You, on the other hand, remained most curious on the subject of vendetta. Polly turned to Tommy and gave the slightest of nods.

“Perhaps, Mr. Mosley, we can turn to what practical things Mr. Nelson can do to further our cause, while he’s in the country,” Tommy said.

“Wouldn’t you I rather whisper in the President’s ear?” Jack Nelson smirked. “That is kind of why I’m here, right?”

Mosley seemed either pleased or exasperated at the suggestion, you couldn’t quite tell. His eyes remained dark and lifeless.

“We do, indeed, have things for you to pass on to the President,” he murmured, “but not while we share the table with Jewish whores.” He turned to you and in an instant you knew the charade was over. “Mr. Shelby, I truly expected better from you, but then again… Some blood runs thicker.”

There would be no swaying the room. Not when Mosley turned sharply to Jack and Gina and declared:

“That woman is the widow of Alfie Solomons, the late… king of Camden Jews,” he scoffed. “She is no aid in our cause, but a spy. One, I must say, very poorly concealed, Mr. Shelby.”

“Is that true?” Gina turned to you, eyes bright and wide from prolonged cocaine use. “You’re his wife?!”

“The widow,” Lady Diana corrected snidely, not without satisfaction. “His motley crew of sewer rats is no threat to anyone anymore, I assure you.”

You tried your best to remain calm, but the thought of the knife you kept concealed in your skirts grew stronger. The fascist idiot didn’t know your husband yet lived and while the information wouldn’t exactly help you right then, you held onto it for dear life. Nothing would happen to you while Alfie drew breath, this much you knew.

“Well then,” Ada sighed, “I’d say the negotiations are over?”

“Well,” Lady Diana chuckled humorlessly, “I’d say it was a pleasure, but my parents raised me better.”

Polly stood up first and perhaps that would be the end of it, had Lady Diana kept her mouth shut and didn’t whisper to her what she did:

“Gypsy scum.”

The movement was swift and sharp—obviously well-practised. One moment the hairpin was holding up Polly’s rich brown curls, the next it was firmly lodged in Lady Diana’s nose, all the way to her brain; Lady Diana’s face froze, twisted in pain and horror, and blood dripping through her eyes.

Then, chaos ensued. Everyone rose from their seats, but only Tommy remembered his drills and, unlike Mosley, he would never be as arrogant to have come unprepared.

“I will have no gorja speak like that of my kin,” he said calmly as he raised his revolver to Mosley’s head. “So when you meet the devil, say my greetings for me.”

Tommy shot him in cold blood and that, alongside a curse in his tongue of old, seemed enough to subdue even a man like Jack Nelson. Of course, to your great satisfaction, Gina swiftly joined her uncle’s bloodied corpse on the beautiful Persian rug—the corpse with your knife stuck in his neck.

“Now then, Tommy, what are we to do with you, hm?” Alfie exclaimed as soon as Tommy’s men let him inside the parlour that was now undergoing impromptu redecorating efforts.

To their credit, Tommy’s maids scrubbed the blood off the furniture like it was their lives true calling, all the while you sat side by side with Polly and Ada, smoking cigarettes and pretending to be fine.

“Hello, Alfie,” Tommy hummed his usual greeting and handed Alfie a drink the man obviously refused.

“Nah, I don’t touch that stuff, mate, but I should see to my wife, perhaps, she looks like she dearly needs some looking after, right, especially since you Shelbys remain savagely as per fuckin’ usual!”

Tommy smirked at that, then motioned Arthur inside as soon as he saw his brother in the hall.

“Is it done, Arthur?”

“We burnin’ them outside, Tom, like you said,” the elder Shelby grunted.

“And can I say, right, about fuckin’ time that fascist burns in hell!” Alfie roared and came closer to place an affectionate kiss on your cheek.

“You alright then, sweetheart?” he asked and you nodded, reaching for his hand.

“She’s fine,” Polly scoffed.

“Right, high time I take my bride back home then, Tommy, since your war efforts are quenched, I hope, yeah, an’ I now find myself avenged,” Alfie concluded, thoroughly ignoring Polly’s implications. “Don’t think on any debt collection, though, Tommy, I know ya well enough and one look at this mangled face should halt any such notions from you, all right?”

You stood when Alfie offered you his arm and smiled at Polly affectionately, seeing as she still remained vigilant around the man. Perhaps that would be their way.

“Hope to see you again, Cousin?” Ada grinned at you in a manner that greatly reminded you of Tommy—something feral in that smile still kept you on your toes.

“I hope so as well,” you said.

“Perhaps we should turn to Boston, dearest?” Alfie’s gruff voice brought you back to reality. “I hear my uncle remains a man of wisdom, even now he’s past sixty. But such is the way in my family, don’t you worry. I ain’t leavin’ you a simperin’ corpse anytime soon…”

As you said your goodbyes to the Shelbys, despite Alfie’s annoyance and pointedly showing you his pocket watch, your heart felt fuller than ever before in your tortured existence. You entered your curious marriage an orphan and somehow along the way found you had a clan to call your own on two continents.

“Lead the way, husband,” you chirped as Alfie led you to his car.

“Aye, I should hope to finally lead you away from the viper’s nest, wife,” Alfie grumbled, though you could tell he was only mildly annoyed. “Now that ya saved England with your damnable cousins might I humbly persuade you not to leave my side for the foreseeable future?”

“Why, Alfie, with talk like that people might think you grew fond of me.”

“People can well think what they fuckin’ like,” he scoffed and then kissed you the way he knew you liked to be kissed—like the world stopped for a second around you two and nothing mattered, just as long as your gangster husband would not stop kissing you.

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader #swan song

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storiesoflilies · 3 months

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to love the sea

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x f!reader.

warnings: angst, brief descriptions of smut and nudity.

a/n: originally posted years ago on my old blog @theoldlily (previously honeybabybarnes). i worked really hard on this, so it deserves to see the light of day again! please enjoy.

James Buchanan Barnes had once met the sea and it was, without a single doubt, the most precious memory of his entire life.

It was not particularly special, the way they had come to know each other, but it was strangely momentous in its own way. After all, how could he have known that it would have such an impact on his life? It was not even an out of the ordinary day, the hot Spanish sun beat down upon the crowded streets of Valencia, and James had to squint to keep the rays from glaring into his eyes.

It wasn’t an electrifying, heart stopping, moment in time when their eyes briefly met, nor was there any immediate sensual chemistry threatening to explode. No, what struck James so much was how ordinary it was, like the coolness of lovely frothy waves lapping against a sandy shoreline. It was a refreshing breath of air, and he couldn’t help but go and pursue whatever this feeling was.

She was an artist, that much was obvious from the various paintings surrounding her stall, but my god, was she the best one James had ever seen. Not that he was an expert on the subject, but he knew what made a painting truly stand out from just a pretty picture. Or maybe that was just his attraction simply speaking, but he chose not to dwell on it too much.

“Good morning,” he greeted politely, the left corner of his lip curling upwards ever so slightly, a happy twinkle in his cerulean eyes.

“Morning, sir,” she smiled, showing just little sliver of her pearly white teeth. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

James shrugged his shoulders at first, then his right hand softly patted the painting that had caught his eyes the most when he caught sight of her stall. It was an oil painting on canvas, of a rocky seaside with enormous crystalline blue waves clashing against the shoreline, with white seagulls fluttering about in the sky above the ocean. It was not as grand as some of her other pieces, but he took a liking to it anyways, probably because it wasn’t as noticeable as the rest.

“How much for this one?” He inquired, flipping it around for her to see.

She smiled sweetly, albeit a little wistfully, and James suddenly wanted to know everything there was to know about that painting.

“Ah, a little gem among treasure,” she grinned, her fingers gently caressing the paint strokes on the canvas. “I was wondering when someone would take an interest.”

“I think it’s nice,” James said quite plainly, cringing internally when he thought of a thousand other better words to describe it.

She hummed in agreement, placing her left palm across her cheek as she thought, and James took this tiny moment to purely admire her. The strands of her beautiful tousled hair falling out of place, two simple silver rings glinting on her left index finger, her smooth and even skin tone against her radiant eyes.

“Twenty five euros,” she suddenly stated, unknowingly pulling him out of his train of thoughts of admiration for her.

“Are you sure?” He asked hesitantly, almost sure in his head that it must be worth much more than that.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and James decided then and there that he didn’t like that look upon her face at all, and would do whatever it took to take it away.

“I know the worth of my work, sir,” she said tensely, her lips pursed together, annoyance flashing like a warning sign in her eyes.

James shook his head quickly, “Please no, I didn’t mean to offend you, I just meant that it looks like it’s worth at least twice as much.”

She nodded her head in understanding as she realized what he was trying to say, the irritation quickly fading away from her facial expression, and James almost sighed in relief.

“I appreciate your honesty,” she said, an almost teasing tone lacing her words. “But I’m not here to make more money than I deserve.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard somebody say that,” James chuckled, and she laughed pleasantly as she took the wad of cash from him, not forgetting to kindly thank him for his purchase.

James didn’t want to go just quite yet, he really wanted - no, needed - to see this ethereal woman again. There was a little niggling sensation in the back of his head, warning him not to act like a lovestruck fool, but he ignored it in favor for the relishing joy that came with him throwing all caution to the wind.

“Do you mind if I come to collect this later?” He asked earnestly as he possibly could. “I’m sort of running late for work, and I don’t want it to be at the mercy of someone’s spilt coffee.”

That last part was not a lie, James really was running late for work, but that was the last thing that mattered in his mind. She gasped in mock horror, her hands dramatically hovering over her mouth, before she laughed heartily. James heart beat just little faster in his chest, trying to thump it’s way out of his chest to put on a show that was just meant for her.

“Sure thing,” she chirped. “I close at four though, so be back a little bit before then yeah?”

He smiled charmingly, assuring her that he would do just as he was told, giving her a little wave of farewell as he left while reality caught up to him, and he was off running towards his priorities.

-•-

James Buchanan Barnes had once fallen in love with the sea, and it was as liberating as birds falling from the tallest treetops, only to spread their wings towards the sky at the last moment.

James felt like a bird, and she was his wind, lifting him up and taking him to places he had never been to before. After their first meeting at her stall, he had come back at precisely four o’clock to pick up the painting, and insisted on helping her bring her other items back to her apartment.

It was all perfect fairy tales and rainbows after that.

He took her to a quaint little restaurant beside the docks for their first date, famous for its fresh lobster and oysters, and almost did a double take when she admitted that she had never tried oysters. They laughed good naturedly as she ungracefully slurped them down, not that James minded that so much anyways, and she shyly covered the rosy blush spreading on her cheeks and nose as he smiled at her with his eyes full of emotion.

He walked her home afterwards, respectfully keeping his hand on the small of her back, and not once was too forward. James was used to the lustful side of a relationship, he was no stranger to sex and loosing himself in the pleasure, but he didn’t want to go down that path with her. She was different, a strong and mature woman who didn’t deserve the tasteless side of him who loved to please women. She deserved all of him, every fiber of his being, and he was ready to give to that to her whenever it felt just right for the both of them.

They met each other everyday when he finished work, and when she finished closing up her stall, and more often than not, they ended up at one or the others place. Well, James had his own house, but he didn’t mind going to her run down apartment block either. He was not a snob, much to her delight, and relished in being a part of her life just a little bit more. Finding out all the bits and pieces about her, funny habits and quirks - what made her human - was one of his new favorite pastimes.

James realized he was falling in love with her when she was painting.

She was sitting on top of his newspaper covered carpet, her only tools were her various paint colors and a single paintbrush. He couldn’t see what she was doing, her back was against his crème suede sofa, while he sat behind her with his legs comfortably spread.

“What are you working on this time?” He asked softly, his eyes flickering from the TV screen to her.

She lightly smacked his thigh, and he let out a sound of protest, and she giggled, “Not yet.”

“Fine,” he said in a resigned tone, his curiousity growing by the minute.

After a good half an hour, she excitedly clapped her hands together, then hastily checked to see if any paint had splattered on the sofa. James snuck a peak at her canvas, and she glanced up at him as he did so, judging his reaction.

The painting was simple. She had used acrylic paint, and it was just a single picture of a pair of blue eyes - his. From the slight curl of his thick dark eyelashes, to the little wrinkles beside the corners of his eyes when he smiled too hard, and to the deep blue storm held within his irises.

“Do you like it?”

He nodded his head vigorously, gently grabbing both sides her head and planting a sweet kiss on her forehead. She grinned widely, he could feel her pulse quicken as his hands lightly rested against her neck, while an attractive red blush graced her whole face.

If he had to call the blissful time they had together after that, it would be the honeymoon stage. They never left one another’s side, it almost pained him to leave her to go to work in the morning, even though he would see her again only a few hours later. That was what James thought love meant. The constant need to be around each other, to have his heart beat so hard against his ribs it hurt whenever he held her, to have his eyes constantly search through the crowd for her - even when he knew she wouldn’t be there. He thought this was how love was supposed to go, and who was there to tell him otherwise?

-•-

James Buchanan Barnes had once made love to the sea, and it was nothing how he thought it would turn out. It was all cold and violent, beating against him with all the cruelty of the Devil, drowning him beneath churning waters as he tried to swim towards the light.

It was silly really, how it began. James never really understood how it even begun, but it did. One day, she was kissing him and holding him, saying she returned his feelings wholeheartedly, and then, there was nothing at all.

He couldn’t help but think he’d done something wrong, and he tried to correct all the possible options he came up with. Or maybe he hadn’t done something? Perhaps he had to figure it out, and then everything would be alright again. His heart started hurting, and not because it was filled with love anymore. He felt sick and empty, like a porcelain doll in a glass box. His family and coworkers noticed a change in him, but said nothing, because he was a grown man now, and men are supposed to take care of themselves.

Had she been having an affair? James chatistised himself for even thinking so, she was too honest of a person - it defied everything that she believed in - and he knew that all too well. But still, the love in his veins was turning to poison, and he couldn’t help but grow angrier towards her, as she became a shell of the person he once knew.

His family was right, he is a man, and all men have their breaking points.

She was sitting at his dining room table, slowly eating a bowl of leftover paella, probably thinking about all the ways to make herself scarce, when he strode over and gripped her chair from behind. He saw her back freeze up, her fingers tightly grip the fork in her hand, and he felt a little guilty for scaring her - but his heart had steeled, and he no longer cared for her meager feelings anymore.

“Alright,” he started, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t know what’s happening with you, but I’ve given you time to talk to me, and you still haven’t. I think it’s only fair if you explain why you’re treating me this way.”

She swallowed thickly, obviously nervous, but he didn’t care. He’d had enough of walking on eggshells around her at this point.

“I-I,” she stuttered. “I don’t know.”

James raised his eyebrows incredulously, and exclaimed, “What do you mean you don’t know? You’ve been silent for the past month, and you don’t know why?”

She was quiet for a moment, formulating an explanation in her head. James could see her gears working, and impatiently tapped his fingers against the table as he waited for her to try and speak to him again. It was messed up, but he relished in the feeling of being in control of himself around her, even if it had to happen under these circumstances.

“I’m like this sometimes,” she started, placing her fork neatly against the bowl. “I get into things, and sometimes I think I know what I want, but then I ignore that part of me that says I’m wrong.”

James was beyond confused, not understanding how this was relevant at all, but she continued before he had the chance to interject.

“But then I met you, and I was so convinced that I wanted you. That you were finally the thing that was right for me, that you were made to fit me, but there’s still that part of me that’s telling me I’m wrong. That you’re not what I need, and that I don’t need you to make it easier, and I don’t want to feel that, because I feel I do need you-“

He shut her up with a sloppy wet kiss, fueled with the fire of his rage, and stoked with the smoke of her confusion. A flurry mess of tongues and hands and bodies, and there was nothing right about it when they became lost in each other that night. James gave her everything he had in him, trying to push his love for her back inside, but she would snap out of it and fight harder against him. She was only focused on the fight, the cruel battle for dominance between them, only caring about keeping up the illusion that she was the one in control of it all.

Afterwards, he thought she looked as if she was a painting. Her body was like water dripping from sharp icicles that melted against the burning heat of his skin, almost too painful for him to bear. Her breaths were irregular, the rise and fall of her chest clearly visible beneath the sheets. Her eyes were closed, and James didn’t know if she was awake or dreaming anymore.

He didn’t even know if he was alive, or completely numb on the inside.

-•-

James Buchanan Barnes had once understood what the puzzle of the sea was, and he had hated himself for years afterwards, for playing the part of the naive little boy playing with matches. He was just a another lost sailor in the ocean, trying to follow the trail of stars back towards home, only to be lulled into the dark depths of the ocean by the song of a siren.

He was clearing his house the morning after she left him, trying to rid himself of every trace of her scent and ghostly presence. Goddamn her to hell and back, she was the worst human being James had ever met in his life. He cursed her again and again, vigorously tearing apart the canvas painting of his eyes that he had found unceremoniously dumped in his garbage disposal, before violently throwing it straight on the floor after it almost felt like it was burning holes in his hands.

James was a man in pain who was learning, just as the rest of us are, how to process his loss. He didn’t know how he could forget someone who had changed his whole persona, let alone go back to the person he was before - not that he even remembered who that guy was anymore. If this is what love was, then James certainly didn’t want to feel it anymore, or go through any of it again. He opened the windows, the whispers of her ghost passing right through him and up into the sky, and clenched his fists tightly to his sides. It wasnt until he zeroed in on her painting of the sea hanging on the wall besides his TV, a haunting and horrifying piece of evidence of the crime scene, that it all clicked into place so smoothly in his mind.

James realized she was his sea, the limitless soul that was exactly what he wanted to believe was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was limitless, able to travel wherever she wanted to go, but completely incapable of bringing him with her. She was affected by the turning of the clock, of it standing still, and becoming forever trapped in a tank with no way out. She was violent and cruel, her anger was exactly like the waves crashing against the rocks of the painting, but she knew how to be a soothing presence when she wanted to. She needed comfort, she was still only human after all, and to know that she was needed by someone. She wanted to feel important, to be as powerful as a tsunami, to not be afraid to show who she really was - but could not, because then everybody would be afraid.

She was uncontrollable, and he wasn’t the one to attempt to control her. James had left her to be as free as she wanted to be, because that’s what he thought was what she wanted, and that was probably his mistake. Or not, maybe he just wasn’t enough for her. Maybe she wanted the moon instead, not a little sailor who she could douse into nothingness within a second. Perhaps she wanted to fly up and reach for the sky, to touch the stars and the luminous silver moon, who could tell her exactly who she was supposed to be to finally feel happy. He was only a man, who was he compared to the moon of her dreams? He suddenly felt small and insignificant, like a little speck of dust floating about in the universe.

James left the painting where it was, his home bearing it like a battle scar, and resumed the arduous task of picking up the broken pieces of himself - resigning himself to the fact that he was never going to be special enough to be the moon.

- fin -

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #my writing #marvel au #modern au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky angst #bucky smut #to love the sea

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terrence-silver · 1 month

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What kind of bedroom would Terry have

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I present to you: Ennis House's brutalist, concrete block bedroom!

With the sole exception that I'd make Terry's actual bed in the 1980's into something more eccentric and luxurious. Less typically utilitarian. Something with actual arches and canopies. Something grand and slightly intimidating? Something with a gothic, period type flare? Maybe something like this?

Present day, though, in his Malibu seaside mansion where we're first re-introduced to him, I'd opt for more open concept spaces. Modern minimalism. Clean. Pristine. Lots of whites. Pale colors. An abundance of natural light and glass as opposed to his dark, gritty, gothic (Slightly maximalist?) bedroom of the 80's. Never more furniture than is needed --- in fact, only the bare essentials. A hub meant to rest the eyes and the soul and arranged by precise Feng Shui, without distractions, wholly decluttered, with colossal windows where everything seems pleasantly transparent. Perhaps symbolizing him supposedly turning a new page and his dwelling and sleeping spaces intending to reflect that, being as orderly, clean cut and put together as his life was intended to be. And I do envision something as stark and almost as intentionally and meticulously bare as this, with a vast vista overlooking the ocean. It's only perhaps a little too empty for comfort. De-personalized.

How about when he goes back to his old ways and changes manors once more and he ends up in that forested looking estate where his weapon collection is stashed? The place where he invites Chozen for dinner? The color palette of that home is infinitely different; lots of dark wood, tall shelves, labyrinthian hallways that seem a bit tight, black marble panels, blackout curtains and heavy draperies, a sense of everything being more closed off from all sides, brooding fireplaces and his bedroom is likely to take on a more moody tone by extension too. What I imagine is a lot of modern elegance, a foreboding palette, dim and seductive lights and the overall sense of excess privacy dominating the premises as opposed to before, especially the bedroom, giving off the impression that the place is secluded, overlooking a private, walled off patch of woodland he owns. If anything, Terry's the opposite of someone posturing to be open and rehabilitated in this stage.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #bedroom #terry silver headcanon #terry silver headcanons

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goshen-applecrumbledore · 11 months

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Happy WW! Question for this lovely Americana week: If you HAD to take the boys outside of America either on a quick job or to live for awhile, where would you make them go and why? I hate that we had that quick phone call with Bobby where Sam and Dean went abroad (Scotland, I think?) and we saw NONE of it! As much as I love my red-blooded American boys, I think we've been deprived of a great plot point!

hello!! what a great question thank you!!

the short answer: I'm Canadian and would love to see some Canada action, but the only canada-related plots in TV are hamfisted and cringe, so I can't imagine what spn would actually do with that that would be good

the long answer is a snippet from a fic I'll never publish that I KNOW I've posted on tumblr before but I can't figure out where, so I'm posting it again:

"You hung over?" Dean asked. Sam shrugged.

"Nah. Took some Advil."

"Good, good." Dean let a smile spread slowly over his face. "You, uh, really had a few."

"No more than you."

"You went on your little rant again."

Sam went still and looked over. Dean's smile was cranked up to a thousand watts.

"Which rant?" Sam asked carefully.

“You know which rant. Every time I get more than four drinks in you, you find a way to bring up moving to another country and telling people that we have the same last name because we’re married.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but Dean saw his back get tight. He was embarrassed.

“Excuse me for finding creative solutions to the ongoing problem of dating my brother.”

"Have you considered not dating your brother?"

"Shut up, Dean."

Dean put his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands and made faces at him.

"This time it was Portugal. You said we could live in a seaside shack in Portugal. You were worried they weren't progressive enough, though. Then I said, if we want progressive, we're stuck with either California or Canada or maybe Oregon on a good day, and you said that wasn't far enough away, except maybe Canada."

"Would you please—"

"You know a surprising amount of Canadian lore, turns out. Have you been doing research? House hunting? I'm not moving to Canada, we'd never get guns again."

"Canada's too close," Sam grumbled. "Go away."

"Canada's big. And rural. Bet we can find a place backwards enough for our, uh, alternative lifestyle. But—"

"Alright, that's—"

"—I'd be willing to bet that any fucked-up commune that's down with the incest part would be extremely not down with the gay part—"

"Dean."

"—So maybe we'd just better keep being weird, violent hermits in Kansas for now."

"Are you done?" Sam asked, sounding physically pained.

"Are those pancakes done?"

"If it'll shut you up, they are."

"Deal."

Sam took the plate of warmed pancakes out of the oven and all but threw it down in front of Dean, leaving him to get his own utensils and syrup.

Sam had been very excited about Portugal. Dean thought it was grossly sweet, but he wasn't about to miss an opportunity to rib Sam by doing something as stupid as agreeing with him out loud. He knew it would never happen, but thinking about it made his heart turn over; two matching silver rings tapping on the railing of a balcony, sun-bleached stucco and curtains fluttering in the hot wind. Drinking vinegary pilsners and driving along a winding coastline, two old American guys with omnipresent sunburns and no past. Sam with his hair in a ponytail, reading a book under a beach umbrella.

Dean blinked and shook his head as if clearing sun spots from his vision. Maybe Sam thought about that life while he was drunk, but Dean thought about it sober. He really, really tried not to dwell on that delta. It made everything less funny.

#roncillary #ronanswers

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wheretheharekissesthefox · 6 months

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I want to feel your cold, undead body next to mine

Tav can’t sleep because the summer nights are too hot and humid. Astarion’s cold, undead body’s a welcome relief.

(Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, smut, consensual blood drinking, frottage, missionary, rough sex, water sports)

With an irritated huff, Tav threw herself onto her other side, dripping with sweat and overheated. The summer was unnaturally hot and humid and she couldn't stand it. Usually, the bard had no problem with the heat (she'd grown up in the south, for crying out loud), but the high humidity made it unbearable. Tav was glad she didn't have to share the bed with anyone at the moment. Having another heat-generating body next to her would have been an absolute horror.

Gale was on a trip with his students from the Blackstaff Academy, proving himself a talented professor and mentor. Shadowheart and the other priestesses had pilgrimaged to a special Selûnite temple in the wilderness to do some rituals and offerings. Halsin dwelled in the former Shadow-Cursed Lands to help rebuild the destroyed city near Moonrise Towers, Reithwin. Astarion was technically at home, but sauntering through the streets at the moment to still his hunger. Thus, Tav was alone and couldn't sleep at all. Even the night breeze that wafted from the seaside through the open window didn't bring her any relief. With another frustrated groan, the bard tossed and turned in the bed.

"Be damned!" she cursed, not particularly at anyone or anything, but simply the situation. "I hate this!"

With another deep sigh, Tav lay on the mattress spread-eagled and with her eyes closed. She tried to wield herself to sleep the way Halsin had taught her, but it didn't work.

Suddenly, she heard the rustle of clothing and felt the bed dip.

"Still awake, darling?" Astarion asked.

"It's too hot," the bard complained. "Even the cold bath before bed didn't help."

"I may be of service," the vampire spawn purred into her ear. "Remember: I'm undead."

Teasingly, he pressed his cold fingers against the side of Tav's neck. But instead of shrieking at the cold touch, she sighed in relief. Astarion was baffled.

"You... like it?"

"Mmh, yes." The bard looked up at him. "Touch me more."

"Anything for you, darling," chuckled the addressed and ran his splayed palm over Tav's wide ribcage, making her sigh again. It felt like an ice cube was sliding over her overheated skin. And she craved more. Tav wrapped her right arm around her lover and pulled him closer until his cold body lied on top of hers.

"Aaah, yes!" she moaned. "You feel so wonderful."

Astarion hummed pleased and their lips found each other in the darkness. The vampire spawn kissed her hungrily, sliding his cold tongue into her mouth and over her teeth while panting into the small space between them. His cold breath was an utter relief and Tav sighed happily.

"You're burning, almost feverish," Astarion remarked. "I can see why you like my coolth on you."

"It's like hugging a snowman."

"Excuse me? My nose is much more dignified than a wrinkly carrot!"

At that, Tav laughed and kissed the mentioned body part.

"Much more dignified," she snickered. "So handsome, my love."

Astarion's eyes softened even further and he kissed her again as he wrapped himself around her strong, sweaty frame. To him, she felt like a hearth or a hot-water bottle, and he could feel how his skin warmed up slightly even though his undead body was fighting against it.

After a while, Astarion shuffled over and acted as the big spoon, pressing his entire torso against Tav's back. The bard sighed happily, linking their fingers together.

"Thank you. I love you," she mumbled before finally falling asleep.

The vampire spawn kissed her freckled shoulder.

"I love you too."

When Tav woke up the next morning to screeching seagulls, cooing pigeons, fighting sparrows, and yelling sailors, she melted against Astarion's cold body with a sigh.

"Hm? Awake?" the vampire spawn mumbled.

The bard turned around sleepily and pulled him into a lazy kiss.

"Stay with me a little longer," she pleaded. "You feel so nice."

"Don't I always feel nice?" he asked teasingly.

"You do, but right now, it's especially nice to feel your coolth."

"I'm glad I can help."

They shared another tender kiss before Tav turned around again. She wanted to rest a little bit longer. Astarion started littering her shoulder with kisses, then her neck, and when he reached her ear, he licked her rounded auricle. His hand travelled south, stroking her hot skin and giving her goosebumps. His elegant fingers played with her curly pubic hair before they dipped down between her labia. Tav gasped in surprise.

"Let me, darling," Astarion purred, sucking her earlobe between his sharp fangs.

Tav moaned when his fingers slid into her and expertly started to stroke while the vampire spawn gentle blew cool air into her ear. His erection poked her lower back and Astarion hooked his leg over Tav's to open her up more to give his fingers better access. The bard mewled, panting open-mouthed. It felt amazing, but her full bladder prevented her from truly enjoying herself.

"You need to stop," she panted. "I can't -ah! I need to pee."

The addressed just hummed, continuing with what he was doing.

"Astarion, please," Tav whined, trying desperately to hold back.

She shivered when his cold breath hit the shell of her ear as he chuckled.

"Come for me, darling. I want you to soak the bed with your hot liquids."

Tav whimpered, shaking her head.

"I can't, it's gross. Astarion, please..."

But the addressed all but growled into her ear, shoving his fingers deeper into her and sliding his erection against her buttcheeks. Tav could barely hold on, and when the vampire spawn bit down on her neck, his thumb pressed down on her clitoris, and his cock slipped up her crack, she came with a sharp cry. Hot slick and urine soaked her thighs and the mattress, and Tav wanted to die of shame and embarrassment.

"Mmh, you're perfect," Astarion groaned.

A bit roughly, he rolled her onto her back and kissed her. Tav could taste her own blood as the vampire spawn shoved his tongue into her mouth and his cock into her core. The bard moaned, her legs shook. Astarion took her uncharacteristically roughly, pounding into her as if there was no tomorrow, as if he was desperate for it. He panted into her mouth, his fangs nicking her lower lip. Tav whimpered, she felt dizzy. This wasn't their usual tender lovemaking, no, they were fucking right now. Astarion came with a loud moan, throwing his head back, blood dripping from his chin. Tav involuntarily tightened her shaking legs around him. Finally, Astarion lolled his head forward to look at the bard again.

"Gods, you're intoxicating, my love."

With a grunt, he collapsed onto her, his cold body was pleasant in the already stuffy morning air. Tav tried to catch her breath and understand what just had happened.

"What - what was that?"

"Sex, darling. Really good sex."

"I... I peed the bed. Like a freaking toddler."

"You peed because you came so hard. It was rather hot."

"What?" Tav blinked in confusion. "You thought that was... hot?"

"Mmh, yes. I'm a bit surprised myself, I must say, but I enjoyed it. A lot. Next time though, we should do this on the floor."

Tav's eyes widened, equally surprised and shocked.

"Next time?!"

Now, Astarion finally lifted his head from her chest. He suddenly looked uncertain and a tad ashamed. "We... uhm... we don't have to do that again if you don't want to. I don't know what came over me, I just wanted to try something new. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable I should have asked first. I should have –"

"It's alright," Tav interrupted his almost panicked babbling and stroke his cheek. "Hey, it's alright, don't worry so much. This was definitely outside of my comfort zone, but..." She shrugged. "I'll live. Just don't make me pee the bed ever again. That's humiliating."

"I'm sorry, darling. Never again," he promised.

"Good."

Smiling, Tav heaved her torso off the bed to kiss him.

"It was rather hot to see you so feral though. I wouldn't mind more of that."

Now, Astarion looked bashful.

"I never intended to hurt you. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry."

"I kinda liked it," Tav confessed, blushing.

The vampire spawn was dumbfounded.

"You... liked it?" he repeated. Then, he huffed a laugh. "Of course, you did. I've seen you with Halsin and Shadowheart. The things they do to you sometimes... Gods."

Smirking, Tav chuckled: "You're allowed to be rough with me too, you know?"

Astarion frowned, working his jaw before he answered.

"I don't want to be rough. I... I like it when we're gentle. It makes me feel loved."

"Then that's what we do," Tav reassured him. "You were denied choices and free will for such a long time, you deserve to only do what feels right to you and what you're comfortable with."

The vampire spawn breathed a sigh of relief and kissed the human bard again.

"You truly are perfect."

"Hm, perfect in my imperfection, you mean?"

Smiling, Astarion wrapped his arms around her neck, replying: "Something like that, my love."

When he kissed Tav again and pressed his cold body against her sweaty skin, it was the best gift she could receive in this hot humidity. Like drinking from a refreshing mountain spring after a long walk.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #astarion #astarion ancunin #tav #astarion x tav #mind the trigger warning #smut

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tribbetherium · 11 months

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'The goliath screwhorn (Spiroteuthocochleus giganteus) is one of the largest extant shelled notiluses, with the largest specimens sporting shells that may reach up to three meters in length. These enormous shells are unusually coiled, resembling long, twisted cones, and contain air-filled chambers that keep the screwhorns afloat. Swimming in a head-down position, these irregularly-shaped mollusks trawl the sea floor with trailing tentacles, feeding on small organisms, drifting plankton and organic detritus that are stirred up by their movements and become ensnared in their mesh-like tentacles.

While living in the open ocean far away from coastal shores, from time to time the empty shells of deceased screwhorns, still kept afloat by their air pockets well past their owner's death, manage to drift onto beaches where they wash ashore on the sand. These peculiar structures have found their way into the folklore of the southhounds, who sometimes happen upon them while foraging by the seaside. The uncanny resemblance of the titanic shells to the horns of the herbivorous horn-herders the southhounds are familiar with has led to fantastical hypotheses of their origin and of the existence of enormous sea-dwelling marine beasts said to resemble the horn-herders yet greater by many orders of size, the precise description varying wildly across the tellers of the tales. In recent times, however, more intact screwhorn carcasses with the owner's remains still inside being found has led to the decline in the belief of said "sea-beasts" as the true identity of the "horns" becomes more well known, with the increased intermingling of the different southhound races. Still, legends of such fabled creatures persist: even if merely as figments of their imagination in stories told to amuse young pups.'

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

#speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec evo #speculative zoology #hamster's paradise #art one shot #the calliducyon saga

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shyminmin · 9 months

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༄𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐗 𝐟.𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Fantasy, Mermaid AU | ༄𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.5k + ༄𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: None

Stepping off the old rundown bus, a nice gentle breeze greeted me carrying the first whiffs of salt. The journey to this seaside town had been a long one and it was a relief to finally be able to breathe some fresh air and stretch my legs. Dropping my small suitcase, I let out a sigh and looked up to view my surroundings.

A gravelly road separated rows of old, quaint houses and shops from the gleaming white sands of the beach on the other side. The weatherboard exteriors and tiled roofs gave the dwellings a cozy, rustic sort of feel, sporting chipped paint but still remaining tidy.

The overall population of this town seemed sparse, having only witnessed the odd one or two people casually strolling about. This was a good thing as it didn't sit well with me being around a lot of people and tended to avoid places with large crowds opting for a nice bit of solitude instead.

Picking my suitcase up off the ground I spotted the inn that would be accommodating me for the next week and slowly made my way towards it. A good chunk of money out of my savings was used to pay for the room I would be staying in as well as the multiple forms of public transport I had to use to get here in the first place. I cringed every time, thinking about the amount I was spending but I kept convincing myself that it was for a good cause. If not for the information I was searching for then at least I get a small holiday out of it.

Opening the wooden door of the inn I walked into a small lobby area. An off white carpet took up the center of the floor and potted plants were dotted around in corners. A little off to the side housed a polished wooden desk and sat behind was a middle aged woman flicking through glossy pages of a magazine. She didn't seem to notice my presence even when I was now standing right in front of her. Not wanting to stand here quietly like an idiot until she notices I cleared my throat.

"E-excuse me"

Tilting her head up towards me, I don't miss the slight glare she gives me as if I just ate the last cookie out of the tin. "Yes?" She grumbles.

"U-um hi... uh.. I booked a room here... It s-should be under the name Y/n."

Sidling up to an outdated desktop she types on a few keys all while still holding a small frown, skin creasing on her forehead. "Who? Speak up!"

"I-It's Y/n... Cheong Y/n" Oh I really wasn't good at talking to people.

"Cheong hey? So fitting" she stated, the sarcasm dripping off her breath.

I looked myself over self-consciously, not knowing whether to take that as a compliment. No, I had a feeling it was the opposite.

"You'll be in room 7" Picking up a small key from the rack behind her she placed it haphazardly in front of me, not caring if it reached me or not.

"Thank you..." not wanting to further disturb the clearly irritated woman I meekly bowed and scurried away up the stairs which I assumed led to the rooms.

Unpacking the last of my necessities I let myself fall onto the small single bed, staring aimlessly up at the ceiling. Fatigue had finally caught up with me it seemed and all I wanted to do was burrow myself under the blankets and sleep forever. Alas I wasn't on vacation like I wanted to be and needed to utilize my time wisely. Hopefully everyone else that I happen to run into here was not so.. prickly.. as the downstairs receptionist. I was barely keeping it together as it is, her intimidating aura not doing me any favors.

Closing my eyes I let my thoughts wander to my main purpose for coming here, finding out and learning the truth.

All my life, as far back as I could remember, I never felt like I belonged. That was probably due to being tossed around like a ragdoll between foster homes and as a result of the constant moving, any friends I managed to make seemed to slip away like sand through my fingers. I was an outcast, always keeping to myself and never truly fitting in anywhere. I was basically wandering around aimlessly not knowing or having a chance to find out who I truly was or my potential as a person.

The only lead I had through all of this at piecing together an identity of sorts was the recurring dream I had at least three times a week.

I was plagued with images of water and sand and deafening screaming. A blurry figure hovering over me and incoherent words being muttered. A very troubling nightmare that I had learned to tolerate over the years, it no longer scared me but rather made me all the more curious. Curious because of its similarities with my assumed birth.

I had learnt early on that I was found abandoned on a beach, the whereabouts of my parents unknown. A newborn baby with no name or place to call home. After some heavy digging, I had tracked that place down to this very town. Somewhere along it's coast I would hopefully find some answers and complete this puzzle which was of my very existence. I needed some form of closure not wanting my birth to remain a mystery, my constant dreams or should I assume memories, pushing me to achieve this. Perhaps learning about my unfortunate past will help with curing my identity crisis, maybe spark an epiphany of sorts.

I'm desperate to find out who I am. I will do anything, even if it causes me more harm than good. Feeling a little pain is better than going about life as an empty shell with no sense of purpose.

The natural light coming from my room's window was slowly decreasing signifying that night was steadily approaching. Giving myself permission to rest, I decided to begin my search for answers tomorrow.

Darkness descended upon the billowing waves that made up the wide expanse of deep blue that was the sea. A sliver of light near the horizon indicated the presence of the moon as it silently observed the lonely soul perched on top of some high rocks bordering the salty body of water.

Droplets of water hit his face as the constant influx of waves crashed upon the rocks below. Anyone in their right mind wouldn't even think about getting this close to a rocky edge like this in danger of falling straight into the ocean and being swept away, never to be seen again. But seeing as he is part fish, he would be an exception to this common sense, the salty waters being his home rather than a gateway to imminent death.

Flexing his scaled appendage and watching the natural flow of the tides, moments like this were blissful yet painful, the silence and alone time bringing forth all his worries and sorrow. The male looked towards the soft light of the crescent and his heart ached.

Everything was slowly spiraling downward and unfortunately he was one of few who experienced these occurrences first hand.

It won't be long until history repeats itself and I don't know if I'll be able to stop it.

Sometimes he wished he could be oblivious to what's happening and just live day to day where the only problems were whether enough food was present to sustain everyone, or of the rogue shark that decided to take a detour into the tribe. But alas he had a responsibility to uphold, if not to settle his conscience, then hopefully for maintaining the freedom and well-being of all merfolk.

All those years ago with the chaos and bloodshed was just the beginning of their unruly endeavors and they weren't about to cease any time soon. Tyranny would soon be visited upon the innocent if they succeed.

Stress enveloped the merman as he reviewed the enemy's stance on the current ocean-wide situation that had been going on for a good two decades.

They were getting close to finding it, and they knew it.

The malevolent party's search entailed obtaining objects that were long believed to be nothing more than the stuff of myths and legend. That had proved to be otherwise since they currently had one in their possession. Thankfully it was deemed to be useless due to the execution of his and his deceased family's plans from all those years ago.

However his efforts would mean nothing if they found the others. It wouldn't take long till they have this one in their cold, unmerciful clutches and wreak havoc upon the existing mer tribes. With the thirst for power and dominance blinding their sense of morality, the innocent and weak would be led by fear and disobeying would undoubtedly cause their demise.

The majority of merfolk knew nothing of these horrific events and intentions leaving the brunt of these ordeals to the responsibility of himself and several allied individuals. They couldn't afford mass panic and hysteria, which would most certainly muddle their course of action.

This storm of events has been slowly accumulating and soon it would inevitably strike.

No one would be spared.

Having spent enough time contemplating and basking in the soft moonlight he used the strong muscles in his tail to propel himself off the rocks, diving into the dark waters of his home.

| 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 | ༄⋆

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lilareviewsbooks · 1 year

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Gay Mermaid Books!!

Are you excited? 'Cause I'm literally so excited -- who doesn't love a gay mermaid book? Honestly, I think mermaids are a little underrated as fantasy creatures, and so it's time we change that. And be gay along the way. 'Cause why the fuck not, right?

I've compiled this list with all the gay books with mermaid and mermaid-adjacent creatures I've read before. I've also made a GoodReads Shelf with more books, as some lovely people from SaphLit (a sapphic bookclub you should definitely join!) contributed. I haven't read the ones that aren't here, though!

The Deepwater Bride, by Tasmyn Muir

If you're a veteran of queer books, you've probably heard of Tasmyn Muir! She's the author of The Locked Tomb Series, which starts with Gideon The Ninth and is about gay necromancers in space! It's a wonderful series, but before she sat down to write that, Ms. Muir penned this novellete, which is featured in the July/August 2015 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction.

This is a more Lovecraftian take on aquactic creatures. The Deepwater Bride follows a young girl who can see the future, and the weird things that begin happening in her small town. All the while she's falling in love (with a girl, duh)!

This one will give you Ms. Muir's traditional cheeky style, which includes phrases such as the iconic "the drowned lord who dwells in dark water will claim you. the moon won't rise tonight, and you'll never update your Tumblr again". Not to mention, it's a quick read, and still takes you on a rollercoaster of a ride that will leave you wanting more.

Aquicorn Cove, by Katie O'Neill

Another quick read, Aquicorn Cove is the sweetest graphic novel you'll read. It's a middle grade, but like Ms. O'Neill's other work (The Tea Dragon Society, which you should also take a look at, by the way), this one can be enjoyed by all ages.

Aquicorn Cove follows Lana, a young girl who comes back to her family's seaside town to help clean up after a storm, and soon discovers the aquicorns - seahorse-like sea creatures. And, don't worry, there will be mermaid-like creatures as well!

This one is extra special because of how cute and fluffy it is - if you're looking for a nice, comforting read, look no further! Aquicorn Cove will fill your heart and make you feel warm and fuzzy inside!

The Girl From The Sea, by Molly Knox Ostertag

The Girl From The Sea is also a graphic novel! This one follows Morgan, a 15-year-old who terribly wants to leave the island she grew up on. But everything changes when she meets a selkie called Keltie, and her desire to leave seems to lessen...

What I really loved about this one was the introduction to the mythological figure of the selkie. It's so rarely seen in modern SFF and I thought it was lovely to see it here. Not to mention, the art is super sweet and it follows that queer first-love plot-line every gay person needs to read every once in a while. Definitely recommend!

Ice Massacre, by Tiana Warner

This is the first book in a trilogy I haven't completed yet, but this first one impressed me so much, I couldn't help but recommend. It follows Meela, who lives in the fictional Polynesian island of Eriana Kwai, which has been attacked mercilessly by mermaids. As a solution, the elders send groups of young men out to sea to try and kill them, but it hasn't been going well - the men fall prey to the mermaids' songs. Now, Eriana Kwai is trying out a different strategy - sending young women, and Meela is among them. But she might not be as immune to the songs as all the other girls are...

Ice Massacre is action-packed and is perfect if you're in need of a post-Hunger Games-revival fix. Most of the story follows the girls in the boat, as the situation progressively gets more and more dangerous, and it definitely feels like reading about Katniss in the arena. Although the story does skew a little younger, I do think it's a good read, and it had me totally hooked from start to finish!

The Deep, by Rivers Solomon

This is definitely the most interesting of the mix, and the one I recommend the most! The Deep follows an underwater, mermaid-like people, descendants of enslaved African women who were thrown overboard slaver ships. Because of their painful history, they have designated someone to hold one to their collective trauma: Yetu, a young mermaid, is their historian. But this role can be more draining then it seems, and Yetu might find herself wanting something else.

The world building in this novella is just so unique! And it draws you in. The writing is very atmospheric, making you feel like you're in the ocean (and I'm super scared of deep water, so that was a weird experience lmao). Not to mention, Mx. Solomon seemlessly weaves in themes relating to slavery and the Black experience, not to mention the queer representation. It's definitely a must-read!

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badbirchenergy · 10 months

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—🏖️destination: seven island, the sevii archipelago

That sight of Gulliver, descending from the clouds out east a few days prior, was a good sign: it meant Gold had gotten her letter.

Basking just outside of her seaside shack, its dilapidated 'bones' whistling when slapped with a sea breeze, palms above offering little shade as they fan through the light winds, May waits. The "burn after reading" coordinates she'd provided her Champion pal should aide him in locating her here, amongst the wildered outskirts of Seven Island.

It is an area frequented by so few of the island's small collection of townsfolk, who'd only recently been made aware of the Hoennite's presence. Dissolving her status as the archipelago's most infamous cryptid has become somewhat of a necessity, considering the path the young woman would soon be taking.

She'd chosen this respite for good measure, following her life-altering excursion through Paldea with Dawn. Something within that foreign land had awakened a piece of herself that had yet to ever be stirred. What with her life's largest challenge looming before her—returning to her homeland and resuming her duties as its rightful Champion—a bit of sun and R&R has been much needed in bringing about a sense of peace towards this decision she's settled on.

May is more than excited to use this rendezvous as an opportunity to fill Gold in, before word hits the streets and the media is set ablaze.

"Should be here any minute..." Rising from her reclined state, sapphire eyes peer above lenses and focus far off into the distance. Vanhi emerges from within the shack, having tidied the dwellings to the best of his abilities, right as a speck of a silhouette appears before the clouds rolling westward...

—@allthingsglittergold

#;🌺pokénavigator [threads]#allthingsglittergold #lfggggggggg

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cruciferous-spatula · 7 months

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guys what are you even screaming about

ah ok fair enough

And the rain put it out immediately of course.

Well then.

Yay! I guess that fire was good for something

Even with lil' bro Manawataki joining big sis Moea for a jog, there's been plenty kicking around the house by now, no?

Beach time! Wahi had to stay home, she's still sick :/

Ah, young love

Dang it!

No more kissing for you young lady, go sit and social distance from the other children

while responsible older sister family sim Para gathers goji berries for the benefit of the general health and wellbeing of the family

And they all head home. Manawataki wore himself out playing and gets to take an afternoon nap, lucky bastard

also

Dang it!

moar soon

#sims 2 #test of time challenge #neanderthal stage #moon islands #round 13 #tuatahi household #seaside dwelling #harikoa tuatahi #awatea tuatahi #mips the dog #para tuatahi #tapu tuawha #puawai tuarua #aroha tuarua #t'ika qallariq #nahia bigarrena #nui tuatahi #mayu tuatahi

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eivorsjawline · 1 year

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In The Dark

NSFW 18+

Tw: Strap. Strap Kassandra.

(Modern Kassandra x Female Reader)

My playlist to listen to while you read ♡

Kassandra brings you to a small but humble house on the edge of the city. She opens the door and the smell of freshly baked bread fills the room. She smiles at you and grabs a bottle of wine before pouring you a glass. The home is no palace but it’s warm and comfortable, unlike the streets.

“Welcome to my little dwelling!”

Kassandra has a small smirk on her face and motions towards the couch for you to sit down.

“This is a nice dry wine from Kephallonia, the town I grew up in.”

She extends her glass towards yours with a cheerful smile on her face.

“A toast to us, two bold women living on their terms!”

The two of you make a toast.

“Tell me about where you grew up, Kassandra”

You ask patiently, ready to listen.

“Of course! As I said, I grew up in Kephallonia which is a very small island. I was practically raised there, it's an amazing place that's full of life. The people there have big hearts but unfortunately are troubled by hard times. We are simply people just trying to get by.”

Kassandra reflects on her childhood and smiles, some hard times plagued her mind but she can reminisce fondly. The two of you chat back and forth, listening to the music playing in the background. The conversation seemed to flow easily, with both parties laughing and enjoying their time together.

“There was a poet named Sappho, from the island of Lesbos. She was known for her beautiful poems about love. Much of her works have been lost to time unfortunately but she lives on as a legacy for many.”

When Kassandra speaks, a sort of fire appears in her eyes. Every word is filled with passion.

“Ah yes, Sappho. I’m a big fan, her writing had a significant beauty about it.”

“Love is something extraordinary, isn't it? Look at us, two passionate women living our lives to the fullest. A life without love isn’t a life worth living.”

You smile in agreement with Kassandra, and the two of you lock eyes. She stretches her arms and lets out a sigh of relief before lifting the sleeves of her shirt.

“You see this? These scars, I got them from a mistake I made when I was younger. They used to make me a little insecure but I've grown to appreciate them now. They represent growth and change, I cherish them”

You place your fingers on the scarring, feeling every bump and detail on her skin. Humans tend to be over-critical of themselves but typically not as much when it comes to others. Kassandra kept a solemn expression on her face, the light from the sun shined down on her from the window.

“So tell me, do you like what you see?”

Kassandra says with a soft laugh.

“I do…” You say softly afterward, returning the question.

“I think you’re a goddess among mankind. I can't help but feel drawn to you.”

Kassandra pours the two of you another glass of wine. You both talked and talked for hours until the sun began to set. Kassandra takes your hand in hers and leads you to the rooftop, where you can see the sun hit the sea perfectly. The air is calm and warm, birds flock together by the seaside and the faint noise of the bustling city can be heard. You look to your side to see Kassandra's brown wavy locks flowing in the gentle breeze, a calm and peaceful expression on her face. The two of you continue to sip the wine, you can feel yourself get a light buzz. The moment is perfect and both views are beautiful.

“I’m drawn to you… I can’t explain it.”

Kassandra turns you and tilts her head slightly, extending her hand out to caress your face. You stop for a moment, and the two of you lock eyes. At this moment you could see every detail on her face, how her brown eyes shimmered in the sunlight. The sound of the waves crashing could be heard in the distance. You both leaned in towards each other, and Kassandra’s rough hands touched your cheeks ever so gently. She pulled you in for a soft kiss as your fingers traced her forearm. The kiss started slow and gentle but progressively more passionate. Skin to skin, the sound of your lips clashing together. You could taste the leftover wine lingering on her lips. The moment fled so soon, you both pulled away as your eyes slowly opened up once again.

“Kassandra…” You said softly.

Her thumb traced your lips, her eyes attentively watching in admiration.

“May I have you here, all to myself?”

You nodded in agreement, the excitement all too much to bear. Kassandra led you to her bedroom, not once taking her attention away from you. After the two of you stripped, she left you on her bed alone for a moment. The smell of, “Kassandra” filled the room for this was where she got ready every day. The smell of her laundry sheets, the leftover cologne in the air, and the incense that was once lit. Suddenly, you felt her presence behind you and her shadow hovering over you. A dark cloth covered your eyes as she leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Let this moment be all about you, allow yourself to feel my touch. The outside world is irrelevant, this is our moment.”

Kassandra blindfolded you, her breath was heavy on your neck as she began to place kisses on your neck from behind. Starting with the left side then the right and finally to the back of your neck and slowly down your spine. Her hands massaged your shoulders as she traced her way back up, cupping your face with her hand. Your lips locked and she kissed you graciously, slowly adding tongue as her hands grazed your skin. She began to nibble and kiss your ears, due to your sight being taken away from you, your sensitivity to her touch grew. There was a distinct excitement about not knowing where her touch would go next.

Silence filled the air as her presence moved from behind you to in front of you. Kassandra gently laid you back on the bed, your legs clenched together. The feeling of her hands trickling down your legs causes a whirlwind of emotions to course through your body. The room remained dark to you, all of your trust and all of your power is given to the woman in front of you. You could hear Kassandra moving around you before she began to place soft kisses on the front of your feet and ankles, slowly tracing up your lower legs. Her nose slid against your skin, her breath lingering with every kiss in worship.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me…” She hesitated.

“No, no… please, continue.” You shook your head.

“Lay down and relax…”

You lay on the bed, eagerly waiting to see what comes next. The thought of moving forward and her hands on your body filled you with hot and heavy excitement. Though you couldn’t see her, her presence felt substantial and powerful. You could hear Kassandra taking off her shirt and then undoing her belt, the clothes hitting the floor slowly. She gently hovered atop of you for a moment before you felt her bare legs underneath yours, her hands running up and down your upper thighs. The feeling of her breath hit your skin, she kissed you from your chest to your lower abdomen.

She readjusted herself to get comfortable, on her knees at the bottom of the bed. Before helping you slide your bottoms down, Kassandra wrapped her hands around your waist tightly to pull you forward, bringing you to the edge of the bed. She moved to your knees, parting them as her forearms gripped around your hips for support. A serious look fell upon her face, dark brown eyes filled with intensity. She started to place soft kisses on your inner thighs, tracing your skin with her fingertips.

“Say my name…” She whispered.

“Kassandra…” You said gently, the feeling inside of you growing stronger.

You lay there exposed in front of her, getting more wet with every passing moment. The sight is pleasing to Kassandra as if she’s doing a good job. Her lips met the warm spot between your legs, caressing your clit with her tongue. She started slowly before finding a pace that suited you as you struggled to remain still underneath her. Kassandra touched you perfectly with passion and patience. Her warm slippery tongue continued to flick at perfect speed and rhythm, occasionally coming back to kiss your thighs teasingly.

Her hands traveled along your body, gripping at your breasts and toying with your hard nipples as she pleased you with a fierce look that you couldn’t see. It was as if you could feel her smiling between every moan that you let out, pleased and satisfied with herself at how she made you squirm. You reached down to grip her locks before she firmly adjusted your hands back to the sides of your head, her body lifting and stopping before whispering in your ear.

“I’m in control right now…”

She lifted the blindfold from your eyes, revealing herself to you.

“So you do whatever I say.”

Kassandra sat down on the chair next to her desk before pointing at the mirror in front of her and patting her lap.

“Come, sit in my lap.”

You adjusted yourself and did as she demanded. She watched your every move in the mirror, her eyes darting up and down your body. She adjusted your legs and held you open, her hands gripping the back of your legs. Her large hands left an indent of pressure where her skin met yours. You could see yourself completely vulnerable in the mirror in front of you. Her fingers played with you, revealing how desperately wet you were. Kassandra smirked, a happy glimmer in her eyes. Your eyes darted lower at the sight of her strap between her legs.

“Now touch yourself for me while I watch.”

You were taken back yet excited at the command before you did as she said. There was a look of hunger on Kassandra’s face as you pleased yourself and moaned in front of her, her grip tightening and spreading you even further apart to get a better look. Kassandra’s passion only grew from the sight of you, weak in front of her. She realized the power she held at the moment.

“Just like that. You’re doing such a good job for me. I'm proud of you.” She whispered in your ear.

“Such a good job…” She repeated under her breath. “Let me help you.”

Her hand slid in between your legs as her other kept a good grip on you so you didn't stagger. She gently rubbed you, teasing your clit with the tip of her finger. Kassandra watched you eagerly in the mirror, her horniness begging to be unleashed. She slid a finger inside of you slowly, yet deeply. The slight feeling of her inside you encouraged you. After teasing you with a finger, she slipped the second inside you. You could feel the girth and length of her fingers inside you. Her middle and ring worked inside of you, hitting the perfect spot. Her fingers curled inside you slowly before ramming deeply into you. All focus on your G spot.

Your moans grew louder and heavier, but before you could reach any kind of climax she readjusted you. You turned around, facing towards Kassandra. You sat in her lap with your legs around hers. She adjusted her strap before sticking her girth slowly inside of you, looking in the mirror.

“Ride it.”

Her hands traced your back as you rode her slowly. You began to kiss her neck, her musky scent radiating off her warm body. Kassandra grasped onto the back of your neck to look you deeply in the eyes as you rode her. She pulled you in for a slow, passionate kiss. There was a fire in her eyes that couldn’t be sedated. Kassandra had the best view in town as you bucked up and down on her. She had a strong grip on your ass as she looked deeply into your eyes. The vein in her neck slightly popped out, beckoning to be kissed. Something animalistic began to stir inside the two of you. Kassandra guided your hips atop her as you took every inch that she had to offer. Your moans grew heavier with each motion.

“I want you on your knees and turned around, right now.” Kassandra said in a firm voice.

You readjusted yourself, head down, and ass up in front of the mirror. Before Kassandra continued with you, she took in the sight and basked in how weak you were for her. Still, your body craved more from the Greek goddess. Kassandra kneeled to your now dripping cunt before feasting on you from behind. Each motion of her tongue drove you insane and past the point of no return. She savored your taste, every drop your body gave to her. Her hands gripped onto your skin, a more intense experience at this point. Kassandra wanted to give you the experience of a lifetime, she wanted to bless you.

She stood up on her knees, teasing your entrance. She was in no rush to give it to you quickly as she enjoyed making you beg and plead for more. Her toned body stretched out from behind you to grip your ass. Her girthy piece slid up and down your sopping wet folds like butter.

“Say please.” Kassandra said as she teased you.

“Please, Kassandra. I can't take it!” You moaned eagerly as Kassandra’s lips formed a sly smirk.

“Say my name once more…”

“Kassandra…” Her name escaped your mouth with ease.

Kassandra stuck her tip inside of you slowly, making sure you felt every inch of it before steadily pumping into you with ease. Your hands stood firm on the ground, pushing your body against hers. Kassandra gave you a good spank before wrapping her hands tightly around your waist, pushing her length into your harder and faster this time.

“Such a good girl. Look how pretty you are when you take me.” Kassandra purred, pulling your chin up so you could look at yourself in the mirror.

Her hands traced up your spine to the back of your neck, her hands rested firmly on your shoulders. She pushed you back into her, as deep as she could go. Your moans were loud and heavy at this point as Kass pounded into you, mercilessly. Your heart began to beat fast, your body could barely take it anymore. You couldn’t help but close your eyes from the sensation being felt, a firm slap on your cheek caused you to snap out of it immediately.

“Up, look up at me.” Kassandra said with ease, in a stern voice.

She started pounding into you with almost superhuman speed, locking eyes. She grabbed your arms and pulled them behind your back, pinning them down. You could see the drops of sweat on her body and the muscles in her arms tensing. She made love to you like it was art, sensually and rough at the same time. Kassandra had one goal in mind: To get you off.

“Cum for me, baby.” She said, one knee bent over to the side of you for maximum penetration.

The outline of her toned legs could be seen in the mirror's reflection. Kassandra’s breathing grew heavy as she was fighting for air at this point, a drop of sweat coming down from her forehead. Your muscles began to clench as your body released every bit of ecstasy you had left inside you. Your moans were delayed and your body relaxed as you made a mess on her. You collapsed and turned over on your back, letting your breathing return to normal.

Kassandra removed her strap and placed it to the side before towering over your face, legs beside your shoulders. Kassandra looked heavenly above you, her stance was particularly fierce and strong. Your hands ran along her thighs, both of your bodies in agreement with each other. You teased her around her clit with your tongue, as if knocking before entering. Kassandra threw her head back and let out a deep sigh, her hands resting on her hips.

“Relax…” You assured her.

“Are you sure?”

“Kassandra, I want you to smother me.”

You nodded underneath her, letting out a, “Yes.” before she rested all her weight on top of you. You continued to flick her clitoris with your tongue until you found the perfect speed for her. Kassandra’s eyes close for a moment as she gets caught up in the heat of the moment. A smile spreads across her face, pleased with you. She lets out a deep moan as she rides your face, looking down at you as you eat her out.

“You’re so good at that… Fuck.”

Kassandra sits on your face with all her weight, you can hardly breathe. You become enveloped in the scent of her and the pleasure that you give to her. Your heart grows heavy as she moans deeper and louder, your name escapes her mouth repeatedly. Her eyes roll back before she drops her head down, biting her lip and getting another good look at you. She grinds and bucks, using your tongue to get off.

“I don't know how much longer I can last if you keep doing that.” Kassandra says, nearly out of breath.

You keep pleasing her just as she likes.

“Cum for me, I know you can do it.”

Kassandra lets out a deep moan, her bucking intensifying. You like how she uses you like a toy, focusing on cumming. Your heart skips a beat watching your lover ride your face. Kassandra becomes so overwhelmed and excited by your touch, she loses herself for a few moments before climaxing. You savor the salty-sweet taste of her on your tongue.

“Fuck…” Kassandra whimpers before collapsing on the bed.

She reaches over to the side table of the bed before sitting up, pouring you and herself a glass of wine. You rest your head on her chest and entangle your legs with hers. You can hear her heartbeat slowing down, the air growing more calm by the second. Kassandra hands you a glass of wine before proposing a cheers.

“To us…” Kassandra whispers with a sweet smirk on her face, afterwards giving you a kiss on the forehead.

#assasinscreed #assasins creed #Kassandra #kassandra the eagle bearer #kassandra x reader #fanfic #ac #assassins creed odyssey #odyssey #x reader #self insert

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memento-morianon · 9 months

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(Image description: a sketchbook drawing titled "coastal mermaid, salmon herder". The drawing depicts a seal-like mermaid with her back to the viewer, holding a fishing net. She is wearing a few braids in her hair with a seaweed hairpiece, as well as wrapped bands on her arms and tail. Beside her, salmon swim in progression from small fishes to the ocean dwelling adults and then to the transformed breeding adult with a humped back and a long jaw. End description.)

Merfolk do not show up much in my actual plot, but they are part of the world. They come in two species groups: the shark-like oceanic merfolk, and the seal-like coastal merfolk.

The oceanic merfolk do a lot of work with the world trade routes and they helped develop the international sign language still used in the time of the main plot.

The coastal merfolk are involved with seaside ports and the maintenance of large rivers. In the region where my main story takes place, the coastal merfolk also play a role in the annual salmon migration. The wild salmon still do their own thing, but these merfolk have domesticated a large population of salmon, which they protect in the ocean and then guide up the river to a safe spawning ground. Salmon herders remain at the spawning ground until the baby salmon are ready to leave. They also harvest the breeding salmon that die after spawning, using their own methods to preserve the meat so they have food for their whole stay at the spawning grounds. Any excess they end up with, they will trade to the local land-dwelling folk.

Not all the coastal merfolk will follow the salmon, some stay behind by the ocean and prepare for the next generation of salmon, hunting wild fish in the meantime.

#merfolk #mm world details #mm illustrations

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lupinus-bicolor · 2 years

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Red dead gang + flowers, part two :)

Javier Escuella - Calochortus venustus; Red mariposa lily, a native to the deserts of southern California, it’s a stunning yet diminutive lily that blooms with the spring rains. Its striking petal markings and sharp sepals give it a unique flair that makes this little flower an absolute show stopper.

Sadie Adler - Lupinus arboreus; Yellow lupine, a coastal dwelling perennial shrub, its bright yellow stalks can be seen from February to July along the Pacific coast. This flower is typically symbolic of voraciousness, resilience, and recovery from trauma.

Micah Bell - Aconitum columbianum; Monkshood, an annual herb that grows in mountainous regions of the western US. One of the most toxic plants in north America, monkshood was used by settlers as poison for rats. It was also given in bouquets as a warning or a threat that symbolized treachery.

Karen Jones - Hibiscus schizopetalus; Spider hibiscus, a plant native to tropical east Africa, this wild looking flower is cultivated as an ornamental in greenhouses around the world. Its fiery looking petals and dangling pistil give this flower an intense look unique to this species.

Kieran Duffy - Aesculus hippocastanum; Horse chestnut, a southern european native closely related to the American chestnut, this tree is a favorite of bonsai artists and ornamental tree nurseries. Its flower spikes produce 1-3 large inedible seeds (”horse chestnuts”) every summer and autumn.

Lenny Summers - Gazania linearis; Treasure flower, native to south Africa and naturalized in the US, this showy orange flower in the Aster family is a drought tolerant plant that is widely cultivated for its beautiful color and ease of hybridization. Given as a gift, it symbolizes riches and and good luck. (I am ignoring the fact that Lenny attains neither of these)

Simon Pearson - Salvia leucophylla; Purple sage, another Pacific coast native with aromatic leaves and light purple flowers. It spreads readily by rhizome and thrives in harsh seaside conditions, making it an optimal choice for stabilizing cliffsides and windswept inlets. It has allelopathic qualities that inhibit the growth of other competing seedlings as well as the growth of certain bacteria and fungi.

John Marston - Opuntia ficus-indica; Barbary fig, a hybrid species of prickly pear cactus widely cultivated as a food crop in arid countries around the world. It thrives in full sun, deep sandy soil, and hot temperatures. In native habitats, it’s mainly pollinated by moths and hummingbirds to produce a sweet, strawberry/fig tasting fruit that can be cooked, eaten raw, or fermented into alcoholic drinks. One of the quintessential western cacti, I couldn’t resist pairing it with our favorite ol’ cowboy.

Susan Grimshaw - Silybum marianum; Milk thistle, a prickly plant with a readily adaptive growth habit, this flower is sometimes cultivated for its seeds or made into a tea for treating various ailments. Traditionally, the thistle symbolizes devotion, bravery, strength, and resilience.