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short-honey-badger · 4 months

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Peppermint Tea

I'm baaaacckkkkk

I hope you enjoy. This may be the start of a new series, not sure yet. But I hope you all enjoy!

Pairings: Dracule Mihawk x Reader (Devil fruit user)

Update! This fic has gone through a lot of changes! so new pairing will ultimately be Mihawk x Reader x Shanks!

Summary: Mihawk wakes from his nap near what should be a deserted island. Turns out that you and your dog Hank are its sole inhabitants. One visit leads to another until your island becomes his home away from home.

Masterlist

Devil fruit user reader,

Warnings: none yet!

Dracule Mihawk wakes to the sound of screaming. He is already scowling by the time he cracks his eyes open and sits up to scan the horizon. Seems like he had drifted close to a small island while napping. His lip curls up in a sneer when he hears the screams again, and it has him standing from his perch and using a bit of haki to see what was going on.

There, being chased by a group of obvious pirates, is you. His ringed eyes narrow, and with a dramatic sigh, Mihawk directs his little boat closer to the shore and tosses the anchor over. In a flash, he stands on shore and begins making his way toward the commotion that woke him in the first place. Dracule is not a hero. he would never dream of calling himself one, but even he would not turn a blind eye to a woman in need. He wasn't a monster, after all.

The warlord swings his sword from his back and takes off, boosting himself forward with a little haki. It's laughable how easily Mihawk cuts down the pirates, these men little more than bandits with a stolen ship. However, he is caught off guard when the ground under his feet suddenly becomes cold, near freezing, and he is quick to hop away from the patch of snow that has formed under his feet.

“You ass! I was having fun!” The woman he thought he had saved snarls at him. Mihawk schools his face back into its usual unimpressed look and looks at you. She is scowling fiercely up at him, but all Dracule can see is an upset kitten.

“You should be grateful. I saved your life, you know.” He replies hauntingly and swings his sword back around to latch it to his back, “Why were they chasing you?”

You shrug at him, shifting foot to foot in impatience. You needed to get a move on. Hank was waiting for you back home. “I dunno. They showed up this morning and demanded I give them whatever I had. I told them to fuck off.” She frowns and kicks the snow that has gathered around her. “They didn't like that answer.”

“No, I would imagine not,” Mihawk agrees and looks her over. The woman wears simple clothes, just leggings and a loose tunic, and quite a few years younger than himself. He finds himself oddly concerned. Hmm. How unlike him.

“Are you alone here?” He asks, and the woman looks suspicious immediately. Her shoulder squares, and she shifts into a defensive stance. Dracule wonders if she even needed his help in the first place.

“Yeah? So what?” You demand and narrow your eyes at him. “Why don't you wear a shirt?”

Dracule blinks at her, definitely not having expected that to be her question, “I run hot.” He says and wonders why he is even entertaining this girl.

“Ha, I run cold!” She exclaims, and snow begins to fall around her as if to prove her point. Slowly, she begins to relax after realizing that this man isn't trying to attack her like the last people. She debates with herself for a moment before ultimately giving in to her baser desires. It's been so long since she's had good, human company.

“Would you like some tea?”

Mihawk opens his mouth to turn her down, but what comes out is, “What kind do you have?” He can't help but enjoy the tiny little smile you send him at his question. He is curious as to why you have yet to call him out, and questions why a warlord of the sea wanted with you and your little island.

“I grow my own, so you'll have to come see at home,” you tell him and point south, “If you aren't busy anyway?”

Truth be told, Dracule probably should get back on his boat and sail away to never see this slip of a girl and tiny island again. Go back to his lonely castle and read the hundreds of books just waiting to be cracked open. Maybe even do his job and report to the Marines about this place. But Mihawk would do none of those things. Instead, he gestured for you to lead the way and was rewarded with another one of those timid smiles.

“Hank should still be home. He's my dog,” you inform him as the two of you walk, and it doesn't take very long for your home to come into view. It's a quaint little cottage with rows of flowers and a large garden off to the side. He can see rows of drying herbs in one of the windows and even a smoke room connected to the side of the cottage. A massive hound with shaggy gray fur comes bounding up. It doesn't even bark at him and instead plops right down and starts to beg for attention.

“And this is why you aren't a guard dog, Hank,” you grumble and pat the hound on his massive head as you walk past Mihawk. Dracule eyes the dog before rolling his eyes and giving in to pat the top of his head like you had.

“You know, I know his name now, but I've yet to have the pleasure of knowing yours.” Mihawk follows after you, and a tiny smirk plays on his lips when he sees your face flush a pretty pink.

“God's, I'm sorry about that,” You laugh and run your fingers through your hair before offering the handsome man your hand and introducing yourself.

Mihawk grasps your hand, noting that you indeed do run very cold, “Dracule Mihawk,” he rumbles and waits for the inevitable panic that his name usually causes anyone he comes across.

“Huh. I like that. It suits you. Especially your eyes,” You tell him instead, and Mihawk finds that he likes You even more than he thought he would.

“Thank you,” he mutters quietly and follows you through the open door of your home. The inside is just as cozy as on the outside, and he has a hard time not immediately investigating the tall stacks of books that seem to be piled on every available surface. Most of them look worn and smudged, as if they'd been drowned in water.

“Sorry for the mess. I don't have company very often,” you murmur with a bit of wince and clear a chair for your guest.

“Nothing to apologize for, Darling,” Mihawk assures you and examines the rest of your home. It's cluttered, yes, but clean and more or less organized. He cuts his eyes toward you and smirks again at the sight of your flushed face. It seemed that you were not very used to being called any type of pet name.

You cough and rub the back of your neck, “Anyway, tea is this way,” you lead him to the kitchen where strings of dried herbs hang from the ceiling. You point at a group set away from the others and point out which is which. “The peppermint came out nicely this year, probably my favorite so far.”

“I'll have that then,” He watches as you dither around the kitchen, bringing a chipped kettle to a boil and pouring the two of you steaming cups of tea. He blows gently and then sips, humming at the pleasant coolness of the tea.

“Very nice,” he compliments and watches intently as you blush even brighter than before. Mihawk finds that he enjoys making you light up.

You quietly thank him and take a small sip of your own. He can feel your eyes on him, but Dracule doesn't particularly mind your curiosity. If earlier was any indication, then you had absolutely no idea who he was, and Mihawk would prefer to keep it that way.

“And thank you for earlier, with those men,” you speak up, and Dracule ticks a brow up at you, “I could have handled them, but definitely not as quickly as you did.”

“Mhm. You are welcome. The tea is a good enough reward,” the warlord teases, and you laugh quietly at his quip. After that, it's as if a dam broke. Conversation flowed between the two of you, and Dracule found himself hard pressed to leave when he looked outside and noticed that the sun was setting.

“Ah, I should be on my way. It is late, and I don't want to disturb you any longer,” Mihawk mentions. Truthfully, he wouldn't mind staying longer, but there were things he actually needed to attend to.

You blink and jerk your head to the window. It's near dusk and the sun paints the sky in hues of pink and purple, “Oh, I guess it is pretty late, huh,” you murmur and try to keep the disappointment out of your tone. Today has been one of the best days you've had in a very long time. You would miss Dracule Mihawk.

The warlord makes a split decision and stands, only to step close to his host and gently place a knuckle under her chin. He lifts her face, and she looks up at him with stars in her eyes when he swipes his thumb over her bottom lip, “Don't worry, Darling. You'll see me again,” he assures her softly.

You wet your lip, tongue ghosting over the pad of his thumb, “Promise?” You whisper, and Dracule gives the young woman a smile that will forever solely belong to you.

“Of course, sweet thing,” Mihawk murmurs and reluctantly pulls away. He grabs his sword and hat, fixing them to their proper places before he heads to the door, “I'll see you again.”

You watch him go, heart beating loudly in your chest as you stand to watch him out the window. When he disappears from sight, you plop back down and cover your flaming face with your hands. You couldn't wait to see him again.

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @browneyedhufflepuff @foggyturtleknightangel

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #fluff #cute #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #op mihawk #opla mihawk #opla dracule mihawk #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #devil fruit #reader is a devil fruit user #ignorance is bliss #Peppermint Tea

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amtrak-official · 5 months

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North American Commuter Railroads ranked on which ones I think of first

Metra

Marc

Long Island Railroad

VRE

Sounder

Metrolink

Metro North

Go Train

Sun Rail

The T

NJTransit

Trinity Express

Caltrain

Coaster

Rail Runner

Front Runner

ACE Rail

SMART

CT Rail

SEPTA

RTD

South Shore Line

Tri Rail

WES

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idrellegames · 4 months

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To the Sea, to the Sky

This is a little gift I wrote for @sunshinemage, featuring Oya and Aeran. Happy holidays, Rory! 💙💛

Aeran sits on a rock, bare feet scraping idly against the sand.

It has been half an hour or so since they picked their way down the hills from the little cottage to the coast. Oya woke early and all but pushed him out of bed, eager to catch the sunrise. Though they have been here for a week, today is the first opportunity they’ve had to explore. Still sore from the incident with a harpies a month ago, he was happy to sit and take in the view. He insisted that Oya not wait for him—how could he not? The delight in their eyes when they slid down the grassy knolls to the sands below was too endearing to ignore.

The ocean calls to them.

He lets out a long breath. Forcing his aching body to move, he rises to his feet and picks his way across the beach. Oya went straight to the water and headed east, leaving a trail of footprints in the flattened wet sand.

It doesn’t take long to catch up. Oya wanders across the beach at a steady pace, sandals carried in one hand. Their trousers are rolled up to their knees, the hems damp with water. They’ve left their turquoise tunic untucked and now it flutters about them, tugged by the breeze, and their hair is faded against the blue-grey light of the early morning. To an outside observer, they are simply one of the hundreds of villagers who wander their hometown’s coast. There is no hint of the warrior, no trace of the Wayfarer—not buried or hidden, but released. Here, they can set aside their weapons and alassar. Here, they can relinquish the burden of their order’s history and simply be.

A deep ache pangs in his heart at the thought. It’s a good ache, bittersweet yet hopeful. Though there are a thousand things he would have done differently, he cannot change the past. He may have a multitude of regrets, but turning a blind eye to them is not the same as acceptance. But regardless, there is hope for the future. Oya is a reminder of that.

Aeran blinks, shielding his face with a hand as he stares up the beach. Oya has come to a stop and waded further out into the water. They dig their feet into the white sand with childlike joy, shaking with quiet laughter a wave crashes against the shore, spraying them with mist as foamy water surges across the beach. It pools around their legs and retreats back to where it came.

Oya tilts their head and closes their eyes, the wind ruffling their hair. They’ve turned instinctively towards the south—to the strait and the mountains beyond it, and Tol Covere beyond that. Compared to Covera, Vordue is a small pastoral island, its villages isolated and slow-paced and simple. It was the reason they suggested coming here after fleeing Velantis. Even so, he knows their home calls to them. So close, yet so far.

If they wish to return they have not said, and he does not know how to ask. But perhaps he does understand the calling, the magnetic pull towards the place of one’s birth. Though he has sworn never to set foot in Tyridia again, there is a part of him that yearns for it.

“Find anything interesting?” he calls.

Oya turns, a small smile tugging at their lips. A private smile. “No,” they call back, pushing hair off their forehead. Their crest glimmers in the first rays of the dawning sun. “I certainly hope not to.”

He chuckles, hearing the unspoken between them. There’s been too many ‘interesting’ things happening of late, huh. Could use a break from them. Uninteresting things only from now on.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Aeran makes his way over to them. The coast is lined with the white-barked driftwood that calls this beach their final home. Waves beat down, the rush pulsing in his ears, and he tries not to flinch as salty water rushes over his bare feet. He is not fond of the sea—the cold and the brine unearths memories better left untouched—but Oya is. Through them he can see the peace and comfort it offers. A promise of freedom. A promise of tomorrow.

Oya crouches as he approaches, investigating something at their feet. They place it in their palm, staring intently at it as another wave surges up and around them. A stone, one of many softened and shaped by the sea and deposited here by the tides. It is different from the others, flat and round, its surface an off-white swirled with emerald green.

“Have you seen the cats?” they ask, falling easily into Artanisian. They’ve been favouring it more and more since they left Velantis, something shared just between the two of them. Out here on the rural Coveran coast it might as well be a private language.

Aeran shakes his head. Their little cottage has attracted a number of strays since their arrival. Though he’s seen a few different ones at this point, it’s always the same three gathered on the porch, content to bathe in the sun. On their first night here, the white one crawled into Oya’s lap and fell asleep, purring happily. The cats scampered off when they clattered out the door, darting into the tall grasses. He’s spotted their paw prints up and down the trail to the beach, but hasn’t seen any sign of them since.

“No,” he replies. “But I’m sure they’ll be at the house when we get back.”

Their brows draw together, forming a worried crease. They flip the stone over in their hand, inspecting the patterns. “Do you think so?”

“They might not like me much—”

Oya snorts, struggling to keep their laughter contained, and glances pointedly at the scratches on his arms.

“—but they’ve taken a shine to you. They’ll be back.”

They nod. “Is it too much to give them names? Perhaps we should name them.”

“I’m game to start a list if you are.”

“Good. The longer the list, the better.”

“Why’s that? Keeping options open?”

Oya rises to their feet and loops a lock of hair behind their ear. “The white one will have kittens soon.”

He blinks. He hadn’t noticed.

They laugh and nudge him gently with an elbow. “We should return soon. The day is ahead of us.”

Aeran places an arm around their shoulders and draws them into him. “I could stay a little longer,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of their head.

Though he cannot see their face, he can sense their smile. The way they radiate a quiet happiness makes his heart ache with a deep affection he cannot put into words. There’s a steadiness to them that he has always admired. They have kept him grounded throughout everything—even in those years spent apart, long before their reunion in Karth. It is difficult some days to know the difference between what is real and what is not, but they are a reminder.

Oya doesn’t answer. Instead, they fold the stone into their palm and lean into him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Steady eyes fixate to the far sea, watching as sunlight creeps over the horizon. The last stars twinkle in the depths of morning’s blush, Apokarys’ silver-violet trail glimmering faintly below. It’s unusually warm for storm season this year, no hint of the oncoming winter in the air.

“I’m glad we came,” Oya says finally, their voice no more than a gentle hum on the wind.

He nods. “Me, too.”

They exhale a breath. The waves crash against the shore, water rushing about them, higher this time. The tide is coming in. They hold out their hand and pause, waiting for the next surge. As the water pulls around them, they drop the stone back into the ocean, relinquishing it to the waves.

With one final look to the horizon, Oya wraps their arms around his neck, their smile as bright as the rising sun, and pulls him into a kiss. He falls into it, boundless joy thrumming in his heart, and holds them close. They remain there for some time, lost in each other, the ocean sparkling in dawn’s light.

Hand-in-hand, they head back up the coast to their cottage.

To home.

#they get to be happy 💙#wayfarer #wayfarer if #wayfarer mc #aeran kellis #aeran x mc #other writing

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zae5 · 5 months

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Greedy

Summary: A lady at sea finds warmth amidst its endless waters.

Warnings: angst, mentions of voyeurism, infidelity, period typical sexism and misogyny, derogatory language, rumor mongering, slight canon divergence.

Word count: 7.5k

Dividers by @saradika

She clawed at the threads in her lap, entangling them for the third time as her husband droned on about the costs of war. There were ramparts, fortifications and more men needed at Tarth to stop the incursion of the Triarchy that he spoke of, agitating himself further as he paced before her, taking her absent minded humming in response to be borne out of interest. The “War of the Stepstones" as it had come to be known, was the newest point of conversation throughout the realm from the Blackwater to the Bay of Crabs, with every household eager to contribute their share of mockery, awe or support. The Valyrians, she thought, had always managed to entrench everyone in their affairs.

Sadly she hadn't found an inch of interest in the one before her.

She had been delivered to Claw Isle almost a year ago, packaged rather gaudily in fabrics of silk and gold, to be unwrapped by the lord of salty seas and misty air. He'd torn in rather clumsily, mistaking haste for pleasure, like a crab feasting at her shore, yet no tears came to her, all the salt had seemingly washed away before she'd entered Crackclaw point. The castle stood surprisingly tall, jutting out of the small island located to the south of Dragonstone, close enough to hear the roars of the beasts of long forgotten might and far enough to be sheltered from their unexpected wrath. She'd often look out her window, imagining what they'd look like, though a year had passed and she had yet to catch a glimpse of them. Some of the locals claimed they'd seen one, a “gray ghost” they'd called it, as elusive as the fog lining the seas, scaring away the fishermen trying to make their catch for the day. They were baseless rumors to her, all the same, recited idly at tea by the ladies of the Point, when they'd run out of their keepsake of slanders. Dragons to her were beasts of myth and true as they might be, posed no consequence to her life, until now.

“Prince Daemon has assembled an army of ten thousand men with Lord Corlys Velaryon. It would be folly to not join such an endeavor.”

“You mean to join the war?” she asked incredulously “We hardly have the numbers.”

“If those shipping lanes fall it affects us all dear wife or have you not been paying attention.”

“I have, husband” she huffed “But decisions made in haste cost dearly. Claw Isle boasts enough wealth to tide us through this predicament without meriting involvement, as you've proclaimed countless times yourself, why then should we waste our men and resources?”

“You're a woman Belinda and as witty as you might be, you do not understand the consequences of uninvolvement. Tarth may very well be under siege as we speak” he remarked.

“And what has the King to say for this expedition undertaken by his brother, I doubt it is with his full consent, ten thousand men seems quite less of a number for a royal army does it not?” she replied back “But yes you're right, I'm just a woman, what would I know about numbers when it is your forte dear husband. I shall leave you to your accounts in peace” she said as she left his chambers with a swift peck to his cheek, quick to evade his reply.

“You must learn when to keep your mouth shut daughter, the ability to do so shall last you long” her mother's words were tight around her neck, a noose waiting to throttle her should she stray too far and though she hadn't managed to keep her wayward tongue in check, she'd found out soon enough that scraps of affection meted out at opportune moments often did the trick.

Dinner proved to be less in her favor. Bartimos was ever eager in spirit, having invited the lords of the neighboring keeps to convene on pretext of merriment. While she sat drinking with the ladies whispering animatedly amongst themselves at the other end of the hall, she realized just how hard headed he could really be. Perhaps her mother was right and there was still more to learn.

“Have you heard the tales of Lady Swann? It is such a tragedy. I've heard she's been sold to a pillow house in Lys”

“She was always a wild one, I've heard. I'm sure she'll do just fine there” chirped Lady Crabb, ever the glutton at any such occasion.

“You have quite the tongue Lady Crabb, you must learn to hold it lest you earn the likeness of the Crabfeeder himself” snickered another.

“Perhaps he styles himself after your own lord husband” remarked Lady Brunes, her fellow at arms of wit.

“Jest all you want ladies, but there is some truth to it. My husband was knighted at the mere age of four and ten, how many of yours can claim such laurels. It will be him who'll bring glory back to Crackclaw point and you'll be all the fools for it” huffed Lady Crabb clawing at the pearls around her neck.

Being the youngest among them had its merits in times like these. Despite being the hostess she was seldom asked her opinions, merely considered to be in accordance with the consensus they reached as the wine dried up and their husbands returned to eagerly escort them back home. Feasts in the Crownlands often had one way of ending, with most of them on their backs. As the bed creaked below her, she realized her’s would be a happy one. Sweaty and sated, she lay next to him as he struggled to catch his breath, exhausting himself to fruition this once. Bartimos seemed to outperform whenever he had a point to make, in matters that required more convincing on his part. She only wished they were more in number and came more often.

“We shall leave for Driftmark in three days' time” he said as he turned to sleep, blowing off the candles near them. “It is a good thing Belinda, you'll come to realize soon enough. You'll even get to see those dragons you've been so curious about.”

“They do not interest me as much as you think” she thought “But if admitting to it makes you more amiable in bed I might as well go set up camp there, husband” she pondered as she drifted off to sleep dreaming of distant roars and crashing waves engrossed in a hazy tussle of their own.

Driftmark proved to be a much grander island. They'd sailed for a day to get there, bypassing Dragonstone on the way. The captain of their ship had pointed it out, a black speck of monstrous rock jutting out from the coast, with a multitude of deep rumbles reverberating through the masts, as they had sailed past. It felt ominous and rather insidious, intriguing enough for her to want to halt and explore for the first time since they'd left, but her husband wished for no time to be wasted and ordered them to sail ahead. High Tide shone bright under the sun as they'd arrived, its pale stone greeting them in a stark contrast to the home of their Valyrian overlords. The Castle was said to have been newly built by Lord Corlys with all the wealth he'd amassed on his nine voyages, its turrets gleaming haughtily at them with their beaten silver tops. They'd been ushered in shortly, with their infantry in tow to the “Hall of Nine” in attendance before him as he sat atop the Driftwood Throne.

“We welcome you to High Tide, Lord Bartimos. The support of the Celtigars, in these trying times is much appreciated” he boomed.

“Thank you for your graciousness Lord Corlys” he smiled as she fidgeted near him.

“Perhaps your lady wife would like to rest as we get to the matter at hand, the journey would have been quite tiring for those not accustomed to it” he said as she was ushered away to the depths of the Castle by one of the Velaryon ladies nearby.

“Princess Rhaenys shall receive you my lady, please follow me. I am Daena, cousin to Corlys in case you're wondering. We have assembled here to convene on our own council” she stated, leading her up the winding stairs to a hall overlooking the Bay. At its head sat none other than the lady of the manor, Rhaenys Targaryen, a tall woman with a welcoming smile in tow “Lady Celtigar so good of you to join us, welcome to High Tide.”

There were more than a dozen ladies in the room who turned to look at her, the Velaryons with their teal dresses and silver locks, a few from Crackclaw point that she recognised immediately, ladies Crabb and both the Brunes, of Dyre Den and Brownhollow, ladies Bar Emmon and Staunton and a few stromlanders judging by the intricate braids on their heads who greeted her in response. Lady Daena led her to her seat as they resumed speaking, each advocating for their preferred course of action. As she observed their leader at the head of the table listening intently to each prompt she wondered why a dragon rider such as her wasn't involved in the affairs of the main council. Noticing her inquisitive stare she turned to address them once again “We have dragons and they are more than sufficient to weed this Crabfeeder out of his cave. My son Laenor shall be joining Prince Daemon, leading from above though your support at both sea and ground is much appreciated. We shall soon be rid of this menace together” she spoke with pride. “We've hosted a feast tonight as an inauguration of our joint partnership. Please rest, explore and enjoy your stay before we meet again ” she concluded.

The beaches of Driftmark were a true wonder, she thought as she strolled along unbothered by the sand coating her stockings. They were unlike Claw Isle, with white sand stretching endlessly surrounded by pristine blue waters, secluded and picturesque. “Could wealth be used to acquire such beauty? Perhaps Lord Corlys’ expeditions had played a part in shaping the sea before her too” she considered enjoying her solitude. Her path soon led her to a hut, nestled away surrounded by a bed of grass, small enough to be overlooked, making her walk towards it, observing its peculiar vantage point overlooking the sea. As she passed through the rickety gate, she heard shuffling inside before coming across a man leaning against one of the posts. His eyes lit up as she came into view, trailing over her, before a smirk etched itself onto his face.

“Well Hello” he drawled lazily.

“Apologies my lord I didn't know someone was here” she replied hastily.

“Do you often walk into other's properties at will, my lady?” he inquired mockingly.

“I considered it abandoned” she flushed. “I was merely curious”

“Hmm” he said, appraising her “It is not safe to be wandering these waters alone, considering the threat that looms ahead”

“But I am not alone” she quipped back.

He chuckled as he made his way towards her.

“And what a sharp tongue you've got there. It would be a shame if that were the only weapon at your disposal”

“I don't think it wise for you to want to find out” she replied, standing her ground.

His smirk widened as he brushed past her, leaning down to whisper into the shell of her ear “Welcome to Driftmark my lady, your claws do you justice.”

Evening couldn't arrive fast enough. Her encounter with the man at the beach left her more shaken once she came to realize who he was. Bartimos spoke of the surprising absence of Prince Daemon from their war council, baffled as he dressed in haste. She merely shook her head in response, finding the lord or rather the prince she'd met, to be all the more intriguing. Dinner proved to be a lavish affair with an assortment of opulence. Dishes of roasted duck glazed with honey adorned the plates before them, along with sardines and roasted tomatoes coated with fennel and saffron. There were freshly picked cherries and apricots, apple and cinnamon pies and a heap of lemon cakes being passed around the hall, along with overflowing cups of Dornish red mocking the enemies they were to face. She sat next to known faces, taking comfort in familiarity amidst the novelty she'd found herself in, while Lady Crabb delighted in the feast before her, munching away wholly unbothered by her sullenness. Her husband was in better spirits after the toasts that had been made to their victory, conversing heartily with Lord Staunton as she looked about inquisitively.

Prince Daemon sat at the head of the table flanking Lord Corlys to the left looking disinterested as he sipped his wine, pretending to listen in to the conversation at hand. She smiled to herself at the glazed look in his eyes, present for a fleeting moment before wandering again to places far beyond her reach. One of the Velaryon lords next to Princess Rhaenys, Ser Vaemond, if she remembered correctly, said something which swiftly brought him back.

“Perhaps you'd like to find out for yourself Ser Vaemond, Caraxes would be all the more willing” he said smirking “A toast then” he spoke standing up as the chatter died down.“To our allies and their good health, may you weather the battle ahead well” he said as a few cheered in response. “And to our enemies, near and beyond, narrow be their deaths, narrow be their beds” he said looking around “To our appetite for war” he spoke at last, winking at him as the man below him gazed back in defiance “and more” he finished seemingly staring right at her. She squirmed with apprehension as the crowd erupted in cheers “Hear, hear” they chanted “To the Rogue Prince Daemon” , they continued, banging their cups on the spread in front.

She wondered if her husband realized what he partook in, as the celebrations continued, forever wanting for fame and glory begotten through company, only for her to be the unwitting recipient of the eye of the Dragon.

As the evening drew close and Bartimos drunkenly staggered through the halls supported by his peers, she fought back a scoff. He bade her goodnight, eager to continue his quest for companionship while she politely shut the door waiting to leave their chambers as soon as she felt the coast was clear. Drawing her robe close she snuck out to explore, excited at her newfound freedom, delighting in the sliver of opportunity she'd happened upon. High Tide was quiet as the waves lapped the shore in the distance, a peaceful contrast to the jeers of the evening. A few servants scurried about bowing as they passed by her without question, perhaps to tend to the many guests that the castle currently housed. It was relatively easy to navigate with its shiny walls of pale stone mixed with wood twisting to form an interesting maze. She passed by low chandeliers, banisters with carvings of sea creatures, walls of teal painted with murals of voyages at sea, retinues of Velaryon soldiers and seafarers shouting orders and rowing through storms, intricately decorating the hallways. Statues of oceanic figures greeted her, lining each corridor connecting together till she came upon one, wooden and endless, larger than the rest, with a small alcove at the end. Darting ahead at once to claim it for her own, she stopped as she heard an unfamiliar sound. A soft moan greeted her at the end followed by a series of grunts and the all too familiar sound of skin slapping against each other making her peer in. A maid lay bent over the edge, her dress ruched up to her waist as he pounded into her roughly muffling her sighs with his hand, her own clinging desperately to the railing ahead. “Quiet, I do not wish to hear you wench” he remarked, brutally thrusting into her as she whined. She watched, shocked and unable to move as he finished within her with a grunt, his silver hair falling over her shoulders, before turning around to face the door abruptly.

“It will never fail to amuse me how you find yourself in situations that do not concern you” her husband's voice rang through her ears as she ran out, only to find herself at the beach again. “You must learn your place wife and it isn't in every nook and corner of the castle” he'd remarked once, after her incessant interjections in an argument with his lord father. “The fool had some sense to what he'd said”, she thought, cursing herself loudly as she caught her breath. Admitting defeat had never felt so shameful, she sulked running her hands through her hair before turning around to find a voice addressing her.

“Couldn't sleep?”

“New waters, princess. I'm not used to change” she replied sheepishly.

“Hmm. You should have told Vanya, she's in charge of the guests. She'd have brewed you a nice tea, it works wonders for light sleepers”

“I presume you speak from experience” she ventured walking towards her.

“There is much to be thought of” she replied back as she welcomed her presence.

“You wish to join the war, contrary to what you spoke of at the council”

“What kind of dragon rider abandons their people in need. What am I, if not a warrior for a just cause”

“A ruler who knows when to step back” she countered.

“Those are flattering words, empty as they might be”

“I disagree, princess. Your children are young and you are needed here. Battles may not always be fought at sea or up in the air, the biggest ones often lie closer to home” she spoke, still unnerved by the night.

“You are wiser than your years Lady Celtigar”

“Many have called me rather impudent”

“And they always shall, anything otherwise would be to admit defeat” she scoffed.

“May I extend my impudence further tonight” she asked looking up at her in question “I think I know why you wish to join. Forgive my boldness but I feel a familiar reluctance in staying behind, with what has happened amidst those seas before”

She smiled ruefully in response. “Have you had the chance to see a dragon yet, Lady Belinda? Caraxes rests a few feet away from where we stand, slumbering in peace while his rider feasts for the night” she remarked causing her to turn abruptly “I fear I will not have peace till I fly to battle with him this once, a wish that was left unfulfilled years ago and a regret I hold with me still”

She looked around in unease before replying “It is not for me to advise you princess as I've often led myself off a cliff with my own words.”

“Do not fret he doesn't harm at will” she laughed sensing her distress. “Merely judges who he considers his prey”

“Like his rider” she wished to scream, smiling back at her instead.

“Sleep well my lady, I might require your impudence on the morrow after all,” she said before walking back to the Castle behind.

“There is no rest for the wicked” her mother used to say, scolding her when she acted out of impulse. “Your flights of fancy shall be the death of me” she'd scream as she chastised her for her conduct. The “morning after” drone on, just as painful to her as the throbbing in her husband's head, as he sat grumbling at breakfast.

“Seems like you had an interesting night” he remarked sullenly.

“What?”

“Princess Rhaenys was all praise for you at dawn.”

“Oh, it was nothing” she said as she tried to mask her raging thoughts, her mind wandering to a different head of silver that had caught her attention.

“Do not be so coy Belinda, it is good to see you putting yourself out there. Let them know what we stand for as a house” he said, sipping his tea.

“Your pride will be your downfall one day, husband, but I'm sure glad for it today” she thought, carefully evading the topic at hand.

The days that followed passed in a blur with her trying to make herself as scarce as possible and she'd found blending in with the decor a fine way of going about it. She'd attend meetings whenever she was called upon dressed in teals and blues, dine with her husband and their contemporaries adorned with silver, gossip idly with the ladies at sessions in sapphire, butting in more often, hoping to be included more but most of all she vowed never to stray out of company whenever she could, for she knew he was around, waiting to strike when she least expected it.

“There you are little trespasser” he'd caught her by the arm swinging her to the side on one such occasion, her burnished gold gown taunting her absurdity.

“Unhand me now or I'll scream”

“I doubt you would little mouse, I think you seem to take an undue amount of pleasure in depravities as such”

“I don't know what you mean”

“Don't play coy now, it doesn't suit you as much as you'd like it to” he retorted sharply

“I didn't mean to barge in on you, it was an accident”

“Hmm as are most instances you find yourself in, yes?”

“I am telling the truth,” she said, squirming in his grasp.

“Now what would your husband think, hmm, were he to find out, compromising yourself not once but twice” he whispered, twisting her towards him, pulling her flush against his chest.

“I have done nothing of that sort, you seem to mistake mischance for willingness”

“I am under no illusion my lady, but anyone in your current predicament would beg to differ” he said smirking as a few curious lords passed by them in the hallways whispering to themselves as they looked away abruptly.

“Walk with me and let me put you out of your misery” he replied, tugging her along, as he took her arm into the crook of his elbow, swiftly guiding them towards the other end of the hall.

“I want nothing more to do with you, my prince. Please leave me alone”

“Now where's the fun in that” he laughed humorlessly “Do not take me for a fool lady Celtigar, I’d prefer it if you'd play along”

She huffed as she followed him out onto familiar territory, the sandy soil welcoming her once again.

“You are married, what would your lady wife think if she found out” she said trying to dissuade him.

“I think she'll be all the more happier for my absence, something you and I might have in common” he retorted, eyes twinkling as he gazed down at her.

“I don't know what you mean” she said which earned her a click of his tongue in response.

“Bartimos is nothing but kind. He's faithful and just, I could ask for nothing more from a husband” she said after a pause.

“Perhaps you'd prefer a dog instead if that is what pleases you in a man” he huffed “Or was that your reason to linger last night?” She blushed furiously in response as he laughed at her silence.

“You presume too much”

“I only say what I think. Life is too short to hide behind false pleasantries.”

“One needs to be amiable enough to get by, not everyone has the veil of protection of a dragon rider”

“It is not Caraxes that speaks to you now, as much as you'd like, I am more myself when I say as I do.”

“And what exactly do you wish to achieve out of this” she asked, stopping as she stood before him.

“To unwind that needle you've stuck up yourself” he said “Your husband's brought you here all dolled up to decorate his empty promises, espousing might and support when all he has to his name is a house of Crabs with too few men. I do not need the likes of foolhardy lords who'll run the moment they come to face real danger.”

“What do you want then, my prince? We've come here with goodwill and whatever we have to offer” she said plainly

“I think you have far more to offer.”

“If you've come to ask me to bed you, I'd prefer it if you said so plainly”

“If I wanted to bed you I wouldn't need to ask and I don't mean taking you as an unwilling partner, as pretty as you might be”, he replied, turning a lock of her hair in his hands “You'd come to me willingly”

“Then it seems we are at an impasse” she replied. “I cannot give you what you want nor do you possess anything I seek”

“How do you know?”

“What”

“How do you know what it is that you wish to seek?” he asked “How does someone so sheltered know what they want if they haven't seen what life has to offer”

“What is it that you think I want then”

“A taste of the unknown,” he replied, looking towards the sea.

She stared after him for a moment choosing to continue beside him, the silence between them feeling akin to punishment as they made their way ahead. He stopped soon to pick up a tiny crab running across the shore.

“That is your husband,” he said, examining the creature.

“Come now, that is cruel”

He laughed before pointing towards it again “Look at its legs and tell me what you see”

“It has threads attached to it”

“They're not threads. They're remnants of flowers that thrive deep below

the seas, of colors so bright they'd put a Tyroshi head to shame” he said turning it around for her to look “Flowers like these cling to the crab, beautifying it, helping it forgae the sea weeding out prey, a perfect companion won't you say” he continued watching her swallow “Yet when this little soldier feels the need to return ashore he discards his companion to the solitude of the sea” he finished before tossing the crab aside.

“I am not a flower” she said lifting her head up in defiance “To be discarded so easily”

A broad grin lit up his face as he nodded at her continuing down his path.

Preparations for the war soon ramped up, prolonging her discomfort. She felt stifled putting up smiles, talking incessantly to fill the silence lest she be drawn back in, while he lingered on. She began seeing him more frequently, at most meals of the day. A few of the men had taken to dining with their ladies, mostly those of importance to the warfront and with Bartimos finally being offered a place at the table it was hard to refuse his advancement. She began sitting with them stiff as a board, his gaze burning into her across the spread before them, ashamed to be the cause of her husband's newfound happiness. Watching him drink and talk with pride oblivious to the danger that lay ahead of them both prompted her to consider the nagging thought in her head, perhaps she needed to be his sea flower at last.

He was relentless in his pursuit all the while, smirking with his head tilted to the side whenever she caught him looking, observing her with a heavy gaze waiting to strike again.

It came to a head finally, one sunny morning. She didn't know what possessed her to go to the council room, perhaps it was to seek out Bartimos, as a warning or with counsel itself, but she had opened those great oak doors only to find him inside. He sat alone at the head, with one foot propped up on the map before him, eyes looking out the window, disinterested and lost.

“Are you here to apologize again?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in question.

“I was looking for my husband. Since he's not here I shall leave you to it”

“Ever the dutiful wife, byka embar rūklon”

“Don't call me that”

“Hmm” he chuckled. “Given that he's occupied at the moment, what can I do for you, my lady?” he said standing up.

“Must we keep coming back to it” she replied back, exasperated.

“It is you who makes things difficult”

“Hardly. I've told you what I do not want, I think that should make things much easier for us both”

“You may speak all you want but it's the things left unsaid that matter the most” he continued, before they were interrupted by a servant. She turned to look at her in shock as she greeted him, striding forwards to fill his cup to the brim, privy to all their secrets. He grinned at her expression as he held up a hand

“Leave it and tidy up those scrolls like I taught you” he remarked dismissing her as she wordlessly turned her back to them.

“Now this must be a familiar sight to you” he chuckled, addressing her.

“Your cupbearer” she asked, switching to High Valyrian delighting in his pleased expression.

“Yes it is quite convenient. She knows when I'm full”

“How ingenious” she remarked dispassionately.

“Come on, it's fun”

“To see her each morn, when you're discussing matters of importance and know how you'll be having her at dusk? Was this the unknown you spoke ok?” she spat

“Stand up, let me show you something” he remarked suddenly as he led her to the window.

“To anyone who walks in now, I'm showing you how the sky melts into the sea, explaining to you the foreign territory we'll soon find ourselves in, ” he said, moving close to her.

“What concerns us, is how I've ordered her to tidy up everything. All the scrolls and there are a hundred of them, before she thinks of lifting her head up again” he whispered as she heaved at his proximity, her back flush against his chest.

“We could do whatever we want and she wouldn't move an inch” he hummed against her ear pulling her close. “No one would know, for the reward that awaits her at dusk”

“Obedience for pleasure” she sighed as he tilted her head up gazing into her eyes.

“Precisely” he grinned, grabbing her neck without warning.

“What will you choose, embar rūklon?” he said brushing his nose violently against hers. She bit his lip in response, delighted with his painfully grunt as she tasted him, metallic and raw, of blood and smoke.

“I think that suffices as an answer ” she responded breathlessly, crashing her lips against his.

As she walked out the door later, she noticed the neatly arranged scrolls in the corner with seven cups lined in order, ready for each member of the council to use. The dragon behind her grinned greedily, having found yet another conquest to his name.

Daemon Targaryen was more beast than man, she'd come to learn over the days that followed. As the time to leave finally drew close and tempers ran hot at council meetings, his thirst for flesh increased, seeking her out in shadowed corridors, grasping and rutting into her savagely. She'd be showered with equal affection later on masking the bruises marking her skin. Jewellery of pearl and rubies adorned her pulse points, bitten and sore from their heady encounters as she strutted around with unfaltering poise delighting in her newfound routine. She had come to enjoy their little game, often finding ways to excuse herself to explore another hideaway the castle had to offer, leaving it separately with the lingering smell of their sweat and arousal. Despite the intensity of their meetings it was the aftermath she had come to cherish the most, when he'd kiss the crown of her head after pulling her hair, or play with her wrists as he drew her close. The little trinkets that she hid among her dresses, made her heart beat faster whenever she sat looking out at sea smiling to herself as her company chatted on.

“I got you something”

“What is this?” she laughed “A bird of paper?”

“There is a technique they use in Yi-Ti, where they make creatures out of paper, style them as they like '' he said “This is a crane shown to me by a merchant in passing, as a token for the hefty purchase I made. They say if you make a thousand of these the Gods grant you anything you desire.”

“I thought you didn't believe in the Gods,” she mocked.

“I do not but there isn't a man more foolish than the one who doesn't appreciate beauty, in all forms” he smirked.

“There is a catch though” he said, pulling it away before she had the chance to grab it.

“There always is, isn't it”

“If and when you make a thousand of these you'll be granted but a single wish. I would choose one carefully embar rūklon”

She closed her eyes as she thought smiling to herself.

“Not now”

“Ah but what if I wish for something this very moment, what's to stop me”

“You play by my rules alone byka gevie, never forget” he said pulling her towards him delighting in her laughter.

As much as he'd claimed ownership of the people in his service Daemon had glossed over a singular fact common to all women alike, they preferred nothing more than a fresh rumor served cold. From the smallfolk to the ladies in their fine towers, each held a kinship to one another when it came to gossip, spreading it far and wide. Rumors of her entanglement with the dragon prince spread like wildfire, with fresh tongues wagging in her direction, holding her accountable with their judgy eyes and insolent mouths. His little cupbearer was the one responsible, she thought as she found herself cornered, how fitting it was to be felled by the keeper of his secrets.

The most disappointing though, was the reaction of the lady she'd lent her sympathy to days ago.

“I'd like to give you a piece of advice Lady Celtigar” she remarked one morning

“You are young and have many years ahead of you, do not waste it in pursuit of fleeting pleasure. I know what it's like to feel constrained and alone. When my husband went off on his travels across the world it was I who held fort here, braving it all, ensuring our legacy wouldn't be tarnished by even a wisp of bitterness. You will soon be put in a similar position and you won't weather it should you choose to continue as you are now” she said plainly. “A woman's reputation makes or breaks her family and her house. It is the most important tool you have in your arsenal and you must learn to weild it well.”

“I can take care of myself Princess. My impudence shall weather me through whatever storm awaits me yet, besides you have a dragon to protect you, I doubt it was your diplomacy that carried your legacy forwards”

“And now you've found yours” she remarked with distaste. “Heed my warning my lady, I have known my cousin long enough to realize he always does as he wants. He will not change no matter how much you wish for it to be so” she said as she left her in thought.

The storm at her horizon approached faster than she could have anticipated striking the pearls around her neck first, with an innocuous question posed at dinner.

“That is such a beautiful necklace my lady wherever did you get it”

“Oh it is one of the many treasures of our house” she countered “A little trinket, one of many the Celtigars boast. We have chests of ancestral rubies, Myrish carpets, Volantene glass, jeweled cups and more that await you at Claw Isle should you choose to visit” she remarked satisfied with turning the conversation at hand. If only it had been so easy.

“Where did you get that Belinda?” Bartimos asked cornering her when they were alone

“The necklace? It is one of the many you've given me”

“Do you take me for a fool” he scoffed

“I don't know what you mean, if not then it must belong to one of the chests back home”

“I know every gift that I've ever given you Belinda, your honeyed words fool no one” he said looking at her with contempt.

“Do you think I don't know what's been happening behind my back? Do you think I'm such a fool to not recognise how you've been whoring yourself while I have been away and for what” he asked, ripping them from her neck “Pretty trinkets that I'd buy you had you bothered to ask? Are you so starved for attention to be acting as such. Do you know what they call you? '' he screamed “They call you the Harlot of Driftmark! The Whore of High Tide who's been strutting around the Castle with her cheap keepsakes. Why must you act as such? Have I not given you enough?”

“You're one to talk, have you even bothered looking at me this once. Ever since we've stepped foot on this dreaded island you've done nothing but jest and play at your war never bothering to inquire how I've felt. Ever since I've married you, you've never made the effort. Do you think I want your wealth and all the treasures that you hoard with your claws, boasting at every opportune moment? It makes you look like the fool that you are Bartimos” she screamed “If you'd just asked me once, if you'd just listened to what I had to say, to what I've felt this past year, things would have been-”

“If I had listened to you then you wouldn't have fucked him, is that it then?”

“Why don't you love me?” she cried “Why is it always honor and virtue and claiming and parading myself as yours when I am anything but. I've never been yours because you haven't let me. Why don't you want me as I am”

“Neither does he. He doesn't see you as anything more than a vessel for his pleasure, ripe for taking and you are a fool for thinking otherwise, just as I am for thinking you'd ever want me” he said looking at her in pain.

“I shall leave on the morrow. You shall be escorted back shortly with Lady Crabb. Say your goodbyes as I have none for you”

The noose felt tight around her neck as she wiped the wetness staining her cheeks, the tears she'd wished for had come at last.

It was dawn when she ventured out again, awoken by the shrill roar of Caraxes taking flight. She rushed to his chambers barefoot with a robe covering her, only to find them empty. A wail left her throat as she collapsed near his bed clutching the sheets, sitting still on the floor gazing at his walls, lost and alone till the sun rose and her tears dried up. The time to lament was over. The mirror at the entrance caught her attention, alerting her to her haggard appearance. She looked at the bags under her eyes, puffy and glistening as she walked towards her reflection, noticing a cushion nestled beneath. On it lay a single paper crane greeting her solemnly.

“It is time for you to do your duty, embar rūklon just as it is time for mine. To the unknown you've been searching for”, she read through hazy eyes running her fingers over the scrawled words on its wings.

The journey back to Claw Isle proved to be an arduous one. She felt their eyes on her as she boarded the ship, when she stood on deck and when she took her meals in silence on board, their judgment never leaving her. She wished for nothing more than to be sequestered in her home once again, laughing to herself at the irony of it all. She had often heard the tale of the weary seafarer glad to return home after his travels, delighting in its familiarity and Claw Isle had never felt more welcoming than it did now. As she stepped onto the beach leading up to the Island, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. She spent the next few days in silent contemplation, barring visitors and well wishers alike. She went on long walks, worked on her embroidery, read whatever she could find in the castle library and kept herself as occupied as she could, though the thing about an idle mind was that it soon merited thought. The news of the warfront floating around crept up to her soon. The advancement of the Velaryon forces on Bloodstone with Prince Daemon and little Lord Laenor's assistance spread rapidly delighting noble and commoner alike, for a war involving dragons had been fought after so long and the gossip accompanying it proved even meatier. She heard it in passing as her maids whispered to themselves, mentions of herself with Prince Daemon graced the hallways as well as chuckles at Bartimos and his misfortune of being stuck with her. It was the twentieth day of the fifth moon when she decided to confront it all, bringing out and dismantling the object of her ire. The crane was easy to take apart, soggy from its travels at sea and as the wet parchment of paper stared at her she remembered why it was given to her in the first place. Over the next few moons she learnt how to make one, it was easy enough with no shortage of paper for anything to be considered amiss. Every night before she went to bed she crafted a little bird with her hands, closing her eyes and stuffing it away come morning. The war carried on as did her own effort at home.

Almost three years later when she had diligently made her last one she sat staring at it in silence, crying to herself as she closed her eyes, thinking her effort had perhaps all been in vain.

News of the war reached her a fortnight later, Prince Daemon had killed Craghas Drahar, slicing him from head to torso, styling his weapon into a crown, calling himself the “King of the narrow sea”. It had been a happy occasion for all of Crackclaw Point uplifting their spirits enough for her to invite the neighboring ladies to tea. They had all won and a celebration was to be hosted in their honor. As the castle was tidied up and the ornaments brought out, she noticed a giant red crab placed near the entrance welcoming the guests she was to host, on its back writhing and beautiful were a myriad of familiar coloured threads.

“What is that” she asked the Castellan as he caught her looking.

“Those are sea flowers my lady, nestled upon the great crab’s back. It is a beautiful relationship they share in harmony, uplifting one another. The flower beautifies the crab as well as helping it forage while being offered protection inturn. No other creature of the sea dare touch it's beauty as long as the crab stands vigil”

A looming sense of dread washed over her as she excused herself from the hall, rushing to find the old crane. As she sifted through her drawers desperate to find it among the thousand others she'd made she felt herself grow weary and tired, frustrated as she collapsed to the floor. Each crane she'd found was henceforth burned in the hearth before their bed, meticulously chucked into the fire as she watched them be swallowed by the flames. Her wish had finally been fulfilled.

Bartimos returned nearly four moons later to a full house and a happier wife. His apprehension at seeing her was soon eclipsed by her contagious demeanor. She apologized to him, with Rhaenys' advice fresh in her mind, wishing to make amends to which he acquiesced soon after a moon of coaxing. The rumors still reached them from time to time yet she had him, to weather them together. Prince Daemon's lady wife soon passed away. A hunting accident they'd called it followed by the scandal of the Jade tiara from Yi-Ti, his hefty purchase she'd assumed finally coming to fruition. The deflowering of his niece in the capital brothel followed soon, as her belly swelled and by the time he'd returned to wreak havoc on the royal wedding she had laughed at it all mirthlessly.

When he took a new bride five moons later in the form of Lady Laena Velaryon she took it well with a stiff lip, mind drawn to the Red Queen herself and as her confinement approached a few moons later and she lay in bed she found the old crane at last. Scrawled illegibly on one of its wings was part of the phrase her hazy eyes had missed moons ago

“To the unknown you've been searching for and for the one you've helped me find.”

She crumpled the weary crane in her lap clawing at it as her husband droned on recounting the accounts of the castle for the moon. The Valyrians, she thought, had always managed to entrench everyone in their affairs.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @chompchompluke @barbieaemond

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon x oc #bartimos celtigar x oc #house celtigar imagine #daemon imagine #zae's fics #hotd imagine #fyeahhotdocs #fyeahgotocs #hotd fics

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1americanconservative · 7 months

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Things You Probably Never Knew About The Great Lakes.....

1. Lake Superior is actually not a lake at all, but an inland sea .

2. All of the four other Great Lakes, plus three more the size of Lake Erie, would fit inside of Lake Superior.

3. Isle Royale is a massive island surrounded by Lake Superior. Within this island are several smaller lakes. Yes, that’s a lake on a lake.

4. Despite its massive size, Lake Superior is an extremely young formation by Earth’s standards (only 10,000 years old).

5. There is enough water in Lake Superior to submerge all of North and South America in 1 foot of water.

6. Lake Superior contains 3 quadrillion gallons of water (3,000,000,000,000,000). All five of the Great Lakes combined contain 6 quadrillion gallons.

7. Contained within Lake Superior is a whopping 10% of the world’s fresh surface water.

8. It’s estimated there are about 100 million lake trout in Lake Superior. That’s nearly one-fifth of the human population of North America!

9. There are small outlets through which water leaves Lake Superior. It takes two centuries for all the water in the lake to replace itself.

10. Lake Erie is the fourth-largest Great Lake in surface area, and the smallest in depth. It’s the 11th largest lake on the planet.

11. There is alleged to be a 30- to 40-foot-long “monster” in Lake Erie named Bessie. The earliest recorded sighting goes back as early as 1793.

12. Water in Lake Erie replaces itself in only 2.6 years, which is notable considering the water in Lake Superior takes two centuries.

13. The original publication of Dr. Seuss’s The Lorax contained the line, “I hear things are just as bad up in Lake Erie.”

Fourteen years later, the Ohio Sea Grant Program wrote to Seuss to make the case that conditions had improved. He removed the line.

14. Not only is lake Erie the smallest Great Lake when it comes to volume, but it’s surrounded by the most industry.

Seventeen metropolitan areas, each with populations of more than 50,000, border the Lake Erie basin.

15. During the War of 1812, the U.S. beat the British in a naval battle called

the Battle of Lake Erie, forcing them to abandon Detroit.

16. The shoreline of all the Great Lakes combined equals nearly 44% of the circumference of the planet.

17. If not for the the Straits of Mackinac, Lake Michigan and Lake Huron might be considered one lake.

Hydrologically speaking, they have the same mean water level and are considered one lake.

18. The Keystone State was one of the largest and most luxurious wooden steamships running during the Civil War.

In 1861, it disappeared. In 2013, it was found 30 miles northeast of Harrisville under 175 feet of water.

19. Goderich Mine is the largest salt mine in the world. Part of it runs underneath Lake Huron, more than 500 meters underground.

20. Below Lake Huron, there are 9,000-year-old animal-herding structures used by prehistoric people from when the water levels were significantly lower.

21. There are massive sinkholes in Lake Huron that have high amounts of sulfur and low amounts of oxygen, almost replicating the conditions of Earth’s ancient oceans 3 million years ago. Unique ecosystems are contained within them.

22. Lake Huron is the second largest among the Great Lakes, and the fifth largest in the world.

23. In size, Lake Michigan ranks third among the Great Lakes, and sixth among all freshwater lakes in the world.

24. Lake Michigan is the only Great Lake that is entirely within the borders of the United States.

25. The largest fresh water sand dunes in the world line the shores of Lake Michigan.

26. Because water enters and exits Lake Michigan through the same path, it takes 77 years longer for the water to replace itself than in Huron, despite their similarity in size and depth. (Lake Michigan: 99 years, Lake Huron: 22 years)

27. When the temperature of Lake Michigan is below freezing, this happens.

28. Within Lake Michigan there is a “triangle” with a similar reputation to the Bermuda Triangle, where a large amount of “strange disappearances” have occurred. There have also been alleged UFO sightings.

29. Singapore, Mich., is a ghost town on the shores of Lake Michigan that was buried under sand in 1871. Because of severe weather conditions and a lack of resources due to the need to rebuild after the great Chicago fire, the town was lost completely.

30. In the mid-19th century, Lake Michigan had a pirate problem. Their booty: timber. In fact, the demise of Singapore is due in large part to the rapidly deforested area surrounding the town.

31. Jim Dreyer swam across Lake Michigan in 1998 (65 miles), and then in 2003, he swam the length of Lake Michigan (422 miles).

32. Lake Michigan was the location of the first recorded “Big Great Lakes disaster,” in which a steamer carrying 600 people collided with a schooner delivering timber to Chicago. Four hundred and fifty people died.

33. Lake Ontario is the smallest of the Great Lakes in surface area, and second smallest in depth. It’s the 14th largest lake on the planet.

34. The province Ontario was named after the lake, and not vice versa.

35. In 1804, a Canadian warship, His Majesty’s Ship Speedy, sank in Lake Ontario. In 1990, wreck hunter Ed Burtt managed to find it.

Only, he isn’t allowed to recover any artifacts until a government-approved site to exhibit them is found. He’s still waiting.

36. Babe Ruth hit his first major league home run at Hanlan’s Point Stadium in Toronto. It landed in Lake Ontario and is believed to still be there.

37. A lake on Saturn’s moon Titan is named after Lake Ontario.

All reactions:

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jersey-shore-ring-finder · 9 months

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Ring found in Belmar

Found this ring https://www.facebook.com/JerseyShoreRingFinder/

View On WordPress

#Beach Haven #Jersey Shore #LBI #Long Beach Island #Long Branch #Manasquan #New Jersey #Rings Finders #South Jersey #Surf City

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pussius · 1 month

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ATLA Map rant thing

Ok so I LOVE Avatar the Last Airbender, like one of my favorite shows of all time, and I never even got the chance to see it as a kid, but one thing that's been bugging me since I finished the series for the first time is the map. Something about it bugged me for a long time but I couldn't figure it out, until recently when I watched Day of Black Sun again.

So Chief Hakota points out the Azulon Gates on the map of the fire nation here. And although we never see the gate completely shore to shore, I think its safe to assume that the Azulon statue is in the dead middle.

So from that, I'd guess that the gate is about a mile wide, (1.6 km) if even that. I'm gonna try and be generous with my numbers here so stay with me.

So here I put one mark over the gate, so that mark is (roughly, nothing is gonna be exact here STAY WITH ME) One mile (1.6 km). So if we stack 5 marks on top of eachother, that makes 5 miles, (8.04 km) and if we stack ten of THOSE lines on top of each other, that makes it 50 miles (80.4 km). And from judging that line, i'd say (assuming that the geographic north pole is roughly in the center of the north and south poles), I'd say that the WHOLE WORLD OF AVATAR is like- 45 ish miles (72.4 ish km) from one pole to the other. Thats insane to me, so I made some reference images.

First is the ENTIRE WORLD OF ATLA scaled up to the state of Rhode Island. And for the non americans out there (i did consider measuring this in football fields lol) Here is the Vatican City scaled up to it. The Vatican is the smallest country in the world, being like, Half a mile across (image appears bigger cuz it shows like, the italy surrounding it idk i did my best y'all)

I wanna make it clear that this isn't meant to be me dunking on the creators of the show, not at all. Like I said I love ATLA to bits and the creators of the show, from the writers to the VA's are all incredible, that show was truly lightning in a bottle and few other shows even come close to being as good. This was all just a though experiment I decided to spend my time on instead of studying. Have fun making memes about this and, as they say in the fire nation, stay flamin!

#atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar atla #legend of korra #LOK #maps

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ipomoea-batatas · 1 year

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I absolutely want to hear about the extremely cursed lighthouse 👀

YEAH BABEYYYYY CURSED LIGHTHOUSE HERE WE GOOO

Ok so this lighthouse is called Minot's Ledge Light. Here it is today.

You may notice that unlike most other lighthouses, it's in the MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN.

It's about a mile or so out from the shore, southeast of Boston Harbor (off the coast of what’s called the South Shore) and it's built into a rock ledge that's just under the water (Minot’s Ledge, after which it’s named. “Minot” was a merchant who lost a very valuable shipment there. Seems kinda fuckin rude to name the ledge after him but whatever).

This ledge, and other rocky ledges nearby, made the area SUPER dangerous before the lighthouse was built. FORTY ships were lost there in less than a decade in the 19th century.

Oh, and folks of an ~age~ might recognize this lighthouse from this famous photo from the blizzard of '78:

Just to give you an idea of what the weather conditions can be like in the area. (Is this foreshadowing? PROBABLY)

Anyway, building a lighthouse here was obviously high priority. There was a bit of an exposé on the negligence of the Lighthouse Establishment (the gov. dept that was in charge of lighthouses at the time), and the construction of Minot’s Ledge was part of a push to show that the department was taking things more seriously.

As the lighthouse needed to be built ON the ledge, some cutting-edge, never-before-seen lighthouse design was in order. (More foreshadowing?? MAYBE???)

Isn’t it cute??

(If you notice that it looks nothing like the modern-day lighthouse above...no you don’t. Don’t ruin the story for the rest of the class)

The problem is, Minot’s Ledge itself is only exposed for a few hours at low tide, which obviously presented some problems. No one died building it, but all the equipment was washed away once, and people ALMOST died when they were swept away by currents.

It took years to finish because of the tricky conditions. It was finally finished and lighted on New Year’s in 1850.

It was obvious right away that this design was...not it. The lighthouse would sway violently in rough conditions. (One of the keepers told Henry David Thoreau that bad winds would literally rock their plates off the table.)

The first keeper wrote to the government reporting unsafe conditions, but was ignored. He resigned in October of that year.

The new keeper and his two assistants also reported dangerous conditions. Storms kept weakening the braces, and the structure had to be repaired often. However, every time the authorities came out to inspect the lighthouse it was ALWAYS a calm day, and they were like “idk seems fine?” And continued to ignore safety concerns.

In April of 1851, a storm had kicked up. The keeper had gone to the mainland to restock, but he didn’t make it back before the storm started in earnest. The two assistant lighthouse keepers were left at the light.

This was a BAD storm—nearly a hurricane—that went on for a week. By the fifth day, it looked bleak enough that the assistant keepers released a message in a bottle with their last words.

On day six, the legs of the structure began to fail one at a time. When there were only three legs left, the keepers began to ring the alarm bell continuously for as long as the lighthouse still stood.

By morning, it was completely lost to the ocean.

The two lighthouse keepers’ bodies were later recovered—one had washed ashore nearby, and the other was found on a nearby island a few hundred feet from the mainland. The latter keeper HADN’T died of drowning—he survived and managed to swim to the island, thinking he’d made it to the mainland, only to die of exhaustion and exposure.

Their message in a bottle was found two days later on the North Shore of Boston Harbor. It read: “The beacon cannot last any longer. She is shaking a good three feet each way as I write. God bless you all.”

Here are the ghosty bits:

1) People still say you can hear the bell ringing during bad storms. Once the lighthouse was rebuilt (properly, out of stone this time, which took YEARS—they had to start over at least once when a ship crashed into the structure and took the whole thing out), apparently they had a hard time getting keepers to stay on. They reported hearing the fog bell ringing at odd times, and ghostly figures in the lantern room. Most didn’t make it a year.

2) The lighthouse was automated pretty much as soon as the technology was available, removing the need for lighthouse keepers to live there. But passing ships still reported seeing a man hanging off the side, calling out.

Most people reported that the figure couldn’t be understood, but one Portuguese sailor said that the man was yelling for help in Portuguese. Sure enough, one of the two assistant keepers who perished in the tragedy was Portuguese.

So that’s the story of the cute little “I Love You” lighthouse and the horrible shit that happened there. Sources: This article

This one too

And obviously, Wikipedia. What am I, the pope

#lighthouse #lighthouses #new england lore #maritime lore #new england ghosts #ghost stories #new england ghost stories #haunted lighthouse #cursed lighthouse #i love you light #the spookiest part of the story is the horrors of bureaucracy #ooOoooOOoooo

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sapphire-dreamsky · 6 months

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a nymph's tale

starring: female reader | poseidon is mentioned pairing: ambiguous warnings: possible character death | ending is up to readers' interpretations narration: third person point-of-view preview: The Rock on the South West of Cape Sounion, the one at the mercy of those storms and waves, was once the stage to a nymph who was unfortunate enough to catch the temperamental Lord of the Sea’s attention and his wrath by the same occasion. She would sing, perched like a mermaid —not like a siren— on top of the rock and tales of the hero’s Perseus bravery would fall into a melody.

On the south west of Cape Sounion, there was a mass of rock, one that was big enough for small children to play pirates on, close enough to the bay that it is easily accessible by a small boat, but still far enough for parents to worry and ground their children for playing on such an unsafe land.

“How many times have I told you not to take your father’s boat and go on that island with your friends, hmm? What if there was a storm? What would you have done? You could drown! Don’t you realise that?”

The children would then be grounded while grumbling under their breath over how unfair their parents were being. But the warnings of the older generation are rarely founded on unnecessary worry. There was once a story, although like the drawings on the sand, time has washed away some important details that gave the tale a whole different perspective. The one the parents of these children knew went like this:

The Rock on the South West of Cape Sounion, the one at the mercy of those storms and waves, was once the stage to a nymph who was unfortunate enough to catch the temperamental Lord of the Sea’s attention and his wrath by the same occasion. She would sing, perched like a mermaid —not like a siren— on top of the rock and tales of the hero’s Perseus bravery would fall into a melody. The people of Cape Sounion were mostly devoted to the Lord of the Sea, Poseidon. They knew the song was disrespectful to their god. So, to protect themselves from the wrath of their deity, they tried chasing away the nymph. But her stubbornness was her will. She remained there, on that little rock, tales of different heroes accommodated in different songs. For the people of Cape Sounion, so long as it was not one about a certain Cyclopes slaying hero, it didn’t matter much whether the nymph wanted to stay or not. Her stories were entertaining. They were a good companion to the fishermen. A good storyteller to the children who would flock to the bay to hear about the adventures of those who dared leave their home to fulfil a greater purpose. The tales also, ironically enough, dispelled any chants of the sirens flying over the untamed waters for an unsuspecting and desirable meal. The nymph was, in all retrospect, not unwanted, but not wanted either. She was just there, treating that rock as if it was the stage for some play of Dionysos. She was a part of their daily lives, almost a resident of the bay. When one of them passed to the other side, she would mourn with them, craft a different song, one that was created specially for the one who passed, tailored to retell their exploits and lives, as if they were a hero. She immortalised each and everyone of the people into beautiful verses, turning their mundane everyday life into one where each day was an adventure filled with little mishaps just like the mortal heroes who were blessed enough to become gods. To her, the people of Cape Sounion were heroes with untold tales.

However, it turned out that the Lord of the Sea was not as entertained as the people of Cape Sounion were. Children were flocking to the shore as usual, men were getting readying their boat for an early start under the warm sun. The nymph was watching them with inquisitive eyes as the humans all focus on their morning tasks. There was not a cloud in the sky that warned for such a sudden change in the weather. A sudden waved crashed warningly against the shore. The men stopped their ministrations. The waves began slowly receding back, a warning of an incoming tsunami. The men start leaving their nets and boats behind, scooping up any children in sight and running to safety. They could feel the impending fury of Poseidon. His aura was overwhelming. His wrath impartial to wives and children. The men were shouting loudly to get everyone out of their dwellings and to seek shelter on the highest platforms. No one cared to warn the nymph that the god of the sea had finally decided to leave his palace to pay a visit to the bard nymph. But then again, it was to be expected. A god didn’t need to give a warning. Their wrath was loud and like a match, easily lit. Their temper were akin to that of a child, not that anyone would ever dare mention this to them. It was as if they were never taught as toddlers to control their whims and anger. The gods of Olympus, amidst all their powers and wisdom were, in people’s heart, energetic emotional children with the body and abilities of an adult. The Earth and the humans were their playground, somewhere to can do as they please, unleash any frustrations or anger that was in their hearts.

When the coast was deemed clear, the residents of the bay returned to their homes, some to their boats to look for any damages done to their belongings. Luckily there was none. They started the day as they would, although a bit later than usual but it was not like they could go to Zeus and complain to him about his older’s brother temperament disrupting their day (Though, honestly, even if they did go and complain to Zeus, the latter would be able to do absolutely nothing. Poseidon listened to Hades the most, not that the humans knew that).

In their haste to resume their interrupted morning routine, no one noticed the unusual silence surrounding their waters. The children were shouting, reunited with their friends, blissfully unaware of how their lives had a close interaction with death for a split second. It was only when the fishermen were at sea, and that they could hear the tantalising songs of the sirens flying above their head that they realised their mockingbird was not there to shield them from those vultures with women torsos. They shrugged it off.

“The nymph must have been scared.”

This was the reasoning they gave to their wives later that night after the women noted how disappointed the children were when they flocked to the bay only to hear the sounds of the sea gulls and the waves crashing against the shore.

“She will come back tomorrow.”

The next day was filled with the same silence.

“It’s alright, I’m sure she escaped from Poseidon before he descended. She is a clever nymph.”

Four days had passed. One of the fishermen was taken by the sirens. The funeral for that fisherman was filled with silence. No mourning song was uttered from the rock on the south west. No creature related to the gods mourned the death of a father, a husband, and a son. The fisherman who was taken by the sirens was sent off without any sympathy from anyone from Olympus.

Weeks turned into months. Initially, her story was told with a tinge of regret to the next generation of children. But the regret was soon replaced with a cautionary tone. The nymph soon became the muse to scare children in an attempt to prevent them from misbehaving and upsetting the gods, particularly the god of the sea, their patron guardian.

“Do not swear in his name or he will come and get you just like the nymph.”

The tale of the nymph on the south west of Cape Sounion would live on; fight and win against time. Her story became akin to that of the tales of demigods that she was so fond to sing to those willing to listen.

Like a hero, she became a myth. Ever evolving; ever changing. Some nuances were added. Some controversies were created.

“The god of the sea took her and made her his entertainer for eternity.”

“Lord Poseidon was listening to her songs all this time. Jealous of sharing her with the people of Cape Sounion, he decided to take her away to his palace.”

“Lord Poseidon was affronted by her songs about the hero Perseus.”

“The nymph was scared of Lord Poseidon, she knew that the storm was her last warning. So she decided to run away.”

“The nymph was the wife of Lord Poseidon, Lady Amphitrite all along. After one of her husband’s many indiscretions, she decided to take revenge on him by singing about the tales of mortal heroes.”

“Lord Poseidon fell in love with the nymph after hearing her voice. To hide her from his wife’s wrath, he took her somewhere only he knows.”

Her tale changed depending on the intentions of the poet. Sometimes, she was said to have been killed after acquiring the wrath of the god of the sea. Other times, she was a revengeful disguised Amphitrite. Who was the nymph really? No one really knew. No one took the time to know her name. She would forever be a mystery. A tale of a nymph with no name; no identity; no one to mourn her.

But then again, it was easier for those who witnessed the incoming storm and forwent warning the nymph about it to tell a happier version of what happened. This helped quell the guilt in their hearts when they realised that maybe, just maybe, they should have tried getting to know their personal singer and story-teller.

Though, it was too late now. So they told themselves:

“Lord Poseidon fell in love with her voice and her tales. He decided to grant her a place in his palace. She is his favourite entertainer.”

#shuumatsu no valkyrie poseidon #ror poseidon #ror poseidon x reader #poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok x reader #snv x reader

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trashboatprince · 28 days

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Alright, here's the flip side to my previous sea monster wives au fic, with Crowley first properly meeting Aziraphale.

This is also a massive rewrite from what I originally had.

Crowley doesn't speak English, or any human language really, naturally, but her species is a wee bit magical, they have ways to get words. You'll see that in this.

Warning: mentioned past injuries

On with the fic!

All she ever did was ask questions, seems a bit of an overreacting to completely ban her from her home waters.

But Crowley had been too curious, and a bit too vocal about these curiosities. Why has it been decades since her people gone to land? Why do they not interact with humans anymore except to occasionally sink ships for food (which she's not a fan of, humans have a terrible texture to them)? Why can't she go back to shore? It's been so long, don't the gods want them to interact with their creations anymore?

The elders spoke with the gods on this, and the gods decided that Crowley was a problem.

And she was exiled.

She could never come back home, her waters were no longer for her, and when she tried to swim back into them, she was forced out. Quite harshly too, shot over a mile away by a strong undercurrent, it had been nauseating.

Any attempt to return resulted in the same way, forced expulsion.

She begged to come back, she had never been away from her people before, even back in the old days when they ventured onto land! She also kept close to fishing towns and ports, always near water, or near other members who used their legs as she had.

But Crowley was not heard, and she was alone in the ocean.

So, she left, and she swam.

She did not know how long she had swam for, so many moon cycles had passed. She did not find others like her, but had found other beasts of the waters she had never seen before. Monsters of massive sizes, hidden deep within the darkness of the ocean. They did not want her in their territories, or they wanted to eat her, she always made her escape.

The open ocean was lonely, and frightening. She needed to find a new home, maybe a new higher power that could help her. The gods certainly were of no help, no longer listening to her, not that they ever did. They always hated her curious nature.

Crowley went north, to colder waters. She had never gone north before, in the rare times her people left their home waters, they always went south. Warmer waters there, similar to home, but the north had always made her curious. What was up there?

Different sea life, for one, and she found shipping vessels both above the surface and below. She had seen ships like these before, in her home waters, trading vessels that went to the different human ports.

She had spoken to the humans who had sailed these ships before, after stealing their words. Oh, what were they again... English? Yes, they were English, from some island up in the north. She didn't recall the name of the island, it had different names depending on the different voices she took.

What a strange thing, an island with multiple names. Humans are an odd bunch.

Maybe she could find this island, see what's so interesting about it.

On her journey, Crowley had gotten caught up in a storm one night. It had been violent, the waves and currents pulling her too close to the surface, and in doing so, it allowed her to be caught.

She had found herself tangled in a trap, a net, with other fish that panicked like she had. The net had been pulled from the waters, and over the sounds of the storm, she heard the shouts of man.

She had been thrown against a hard surface with the other fish, and heard more shouts, this time of alarm and fear, of anger. In her fear and anger at being caught, Crowley remembered seeing the faces of different humans in the lights of a strange device, what was it called, a lantern? Yes, those things that hold fire.

She could see their frightening faces, shadowed by the swaying light in the wind.

One human was furious and screaming, pointing at her, holding up a strange looking item. She had seen humans wearing the odd little charm, shaped like two sticks tied together, it had been very popular in a few ports she had visited. Something about a human god.

The item was smashed into her face and she hissed in anger at this human daring to touch her. She clawed at his hand, and he screamed, blood coming from his hand. He yelled more and she tried to make her escape, turning her back to try and look for an exit.

But she cried out in pain when something cut across her back. Turning back, she saw a harpoon, it had been swiped across her back, shoulder to him. She screeched, a defensive attack, it would cause the humans to experience sickness and confusion.

She watched as the group dropped to their knees and hands, some being sick as her warning call rang over the sounds of the storm. Blood and salt had been so strong in the air, and Crowley was on high alert.

Then one human approached, looking unwell, but held up his hands in defense. His words did not sound angry, they sounded like they were comforting her, she didn't trust him, but he was unarmed. He looked easy to kill, a weakling, but he was brave to approach an injured creature like her.

She didn't know what he said, but he seemed to be ignoring the bleeding humans angry shouts. The weak human gently gestured for her to go over the side of the ship. She looked at him with caution before grabbing the railing and threw herself overboard.

Her back had burned when she hit the water and she didn't really remember much else as things faded for her.

When she woke up, it was early morning, and she was on a beach.

There was no sign of the ship, of the humans. The shore was rocky with high cliffs nearby. She could hear the sounds of the waves striking a cavern, a hiding place. Up on the cliffs was a strange structure, with a light spinning around in the early lights of the rising sun.

Crowley slipped back into the waters and went to the cavern, where she remained for days, trying to let her back heal. It had hurt, and she had a feeling that she hadn't had an easy drift to this beach when she had been unconscious in the water.

Best to stay hidden here, where it was safe. Even if there had been a moment where she had heard the sounds of young humans near the mouth of the cave. Crowley had tried her best to hide, she was never sure if they had spotted her or not. She remained hidden for a while after that, after the voices faded away.

After a few sunrises, Crowley left the cavern to explore the beach.

Only to stop when she saw a human at the shore.

She slipped behind some rocks, watching with caution. The human was not a man, this was a woman. She was, however, dressed like a man. Crowley may not have been around human society in a long while, but she remembered the female humans wore strange clothes that belled like jellies. Crowley had worn them before, when she stole them, she didn't like how complicated they were.

This human had long hair and wore those strange little glass things on her face, she seemed to be looking at something in her lap. A book? Yes, that's the thing, Crowley remembered those. Popular with humans, full of things she didn't understand, but there were images. She liked the images.

The human just sat at the shore, reading quietly, sometimes making soft sounds of surprise or excitement as she looked at the pages.

Crowley watched her for a while, not sure why she didn't turn away. The human wasn't doing anything important, but it was just... it was so different from what she normally saw humans do. Often, they were moving about, talking and shouting, doing all sorts of things that never made a lick of sense of Crowley.

They were also often fighting and roughhousing, they were always moving.

This one just saw quietly, seeming to be in her own little world.

And she was like this every single time she came to the shore.

Crowley watched her for days, sometimes the human would be alone with only the book, which sometimes changed, or she'd bring a basket and would eat from the contents inside, again with a book in hand.

And Crowley watched her every single time.

Some days the human would not be there, and Crowley actually felt disappointed and sad. Why should she? She didn't know this human, didn't even talk to her, not that she could.

Still, Crowley looked forward to seeing the human.

And today was no exception, there was her human, coming down to the shoreline, though there was no book in hand this time.

Crowley watched her, seeing that the human looked so upset as she looked over some pieces of paper. She had even cried a little, and Crowley felt angry.

Who would dare make her human cry?

Her human?

She pushed that thought away.

"Stop being ridiculous, Aziraphale." Crowley perked up, hearing the voice. "You should have known better."

The human was talking, but seemed to be addressing herself. Crowley watched her, what did she say? It was a name, right? A... Azira... fell?

Azirafell?

Was that her name?

It was pretty.

She watched her sit in the sand, looking over the papers again, before she put one away, then released the other one. Crowley watched as it moved about in the wind, before landing on the water, right near her.

She institutionally reached out, snatching it up. She sniffed it, angry at the letter, had this been what made Azirafell cry?

She tore at it with her teeth in revenge, then promptly spat it out. Disgusting!

"Hello?!"

Crowley remained hidden, but did peek, just a little bit, and saw Azirafell starting to walk along the long chain of rocks, heading right for her. She slipped lower into the water, making worried clicking sounds, clawing at the rock. What should she do? Should she swim away? Stay?

Crowley tensed up, was Azirafell calling out to her? She slipped behind the rocks, no, she shouldn't be seen, this would be bad! Right?

"Oh, oh please, don't hide! It's... it's okay!" The voice sounded worried, but didn't sound angry or threatening.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you." Azirafell said in such a sweet, soft voice. Crowley didn't understand a word of it, but she understood the tone.

She... she was going to stay.

She was going to meet this human.

She moved out of her hiding spot and looked at Azirafell.

Once, when she had been in an Italian city that seemed to float on water, Crowley had entered a building with beautiful glass images that shone in the sun. There was one of these images that contained a strange, winged human. A human had told her that this thing was called an angel.

The sun that shone above Azirafell made her glow like that image, like an angel.

She was beautiful.

And Crowley wanted her.

She moved fast, bursting from the water, and Azirafell was on her back, staring up at Crowley with such gorgeous eyes, like water before a storm.

Crowley grinned and leaned down, kissing those soft lips.

In her culture, to learn human tongue, the gods allowed her kind a special gift. A kiss could take words and they could speak the human's tongue, to a point. To take the tongue, you knew their main language. To take the breath from them completely, you never every language they knew.

A kiss was all Crowley needed, a simple, little kiss.

And she purred, pulling back to look at the blushing human under her.

"Angel." She said, smiling.

Crowley probably should have asked, but she doesn't know that's an option.

Also, she fell in love pretty quickly with Aziraphale but doesn't understand it. At least not yet, and when she does, she is going to try and court her. Mate! Mate! Human wife!

Shadwell is the one who tried to press a cross to Crowley's face, thinking she's a demon. Newt helped her escape.

#good omens #ineffable spouses #ineffable wives #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #john's drabbles

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