#I imagine that sirens were hunted for their beauty and their body parts

[sea-lanterns]

I remember that Pirate AU! I really wanted to see more of it! I wonder if Siren reader resides in the seas of Liyue, Inazuma, or Fontaine? Maybe even Mondstat? Or does she travel from season to season? And I wonder how other genshin women become pirates... People like Jean could be a very busy pirate that's somehow also working with a lot of paperwork within the captains lounge. And do you think the genshin women from different nations do well in a boat together? (Separately by nation of course! Like Jean with Lisa, Eula, and Amber? Apologies if I forgot someone...)

Ignore this ask if too much! I'm not good at making long ideas... 😔

I imagine that each region’s women has their own pirate ship that rules their part of the seas. Mondstadt has their own ship with the Mondstadt women onboard as pirates, Liyue has their own ship with the Liyue women as pirates, and then so on for the other regions! (This way we have an excuse to make all the genshin women as hot pirates…)

Since the Pirate AU first started out in Fontaine, I imagine that Siren! Reader originally lived in Fontaine’s waters, but can easily travel to different regions through the ocean. However, the Fontaine women were definitely the first ones to capture you first, and it’s not long before the other regions’ pirate ships catch news that Fontaine managed to capture a legendary creature.

In this AU, I imagine that sirens are an extremely rare and elusive creature (many thought that they were hunted to extinction) so there would definitely be some pirate wars over snatching you for themselves. Everyone wants to have a siren in their possession, whether it’s for good intentions or bad 😨

[leggerefiore]

Ooh! Another idea for MerMay, this time much cuter and more wholesome: Bioluminescence.

Again, I can easily see the purpose of bioluminescence varying depending on character and species. A way to dazzle and stun a mate, a mechanism to ward away any threats, or maybe just a useful ability for sticky situations.

My favorite use it when it’s used to convey happiness and love.

Imagine being with your favorite hybrid and it’s pure heaven. Maybe you say or do something that just has them reeling, or it’s just that there’s a sense of bliss they so desperately needed. Either way, they smile at you and suddenly their body is softly glowing with a light that shines and dims in time with their beating heart. Spots and specks decorate their body like freckles, though it looks more like a galaxy has been mapped along their entire body. You literally light up their life.

Aww….

Eelektross Emmet is one glowy boy. It has many, many uses for him. When in deeper waters hunting, he often flashes his bright yellow colours to blind and make it easier to attack prey, but he also uses it to express himself.

Such as when you brought him a pool toy, and he chased it around the waters excitedly. When he finally caught it, his yellow spots were lit up beautifully in the evening light. He also tends to light up when he's excited to see you. He's just constantly glowing for one reason or another.

For Milotic Volo, his is extremely rare. Few if any have managed to spy a Milotic's luminescence. It is used to ward away prey in deeper parts of the water or lure in a mate in a display of beauty. (Or guide a few lost Feebas back to a safer area, but Volo certainly isn't going out of his way to help lost hatchlings.) His golden tail takes to an almost impossible glow, with the accented magenta areas lit up brightly. His long, pink antennae also join the light show, making him a fierce some sight in the deep for someone looking for a quick meal.

As for you, he never admits he does it, but you have watched him light up brightly with a beautiful shade of magenta quite often. He seemingly unconsciously glows around you, further evidence of him viewing you as hid mate. The sight is always gorgeous as he swims off from the dark waters at night, with his bright colours illuminating the otherwise murky depths.

(He probably uses the enteral beauty of it all to help his siren activities.)

Incomplete Eelektross Ingo accidentally glows and then freaks out trying to hide it. He isn't playing human very well when he suddenly has an electric yellow glowing from the spattered Eelektross flesh across his body. It's almost always because he got too happy. If you just pop in at a moment he's feeling particularly lonely, he's glowing in a dark corner of the station with a flustered expression.

Pretty much all the Depot Agents already know of their fish boss.

[wellthebardsdead]

Me: *shuffling through old stuff from high school and finds a note book filled with an ancient Egypt modern sci-fi love action story between the reader and the god Seth* …Well time to share this with the world.

So yeah it was actually a story I wrote after assassins creed 3 came out and I started imagining what the gods and pharaohs would be like in modern day and it evolved into me diving back into my hyper fixation on Ancient Egypt lol.

Essentially the plot is reader goes to Egypt with fiancé, fiancé is a narcissist and wants to propose in public to make a big scene and get attention but can’t get the perfect photos so keeps dragging reader through active archeology sites, ground collapses, reader falls in and it’s revealed to be a tomb containing Seth. Archeologists, reader and fiancé explore down into the tomb, Seth gets set loose and the group leave the reader for dead when the tomb begins to collapse and they get knocked out. Seth sees the flowers the reader has from the failed proposal and mistakes it as an offering after centuries of being forgotten and declares they’ll be his consort as Anubis arrives and explains his wrongful imprisonment. They mark the reader as his eternal consort with a tattoo, Amit carrys reader from the tomb as it collapses and Anubis beings Seth home so he can clean up reunite with his family. And yes. Everyone including the gods. Are hot.

It features most of the known gods and goddesses. Imprisonment by the archeologists who were present during the events that kick off the story. A worldwide man hunt. And a conspiracy between Seth’s wife, Nephthys, and the evil serpent god, Apopis, to frame Seth for the murder of his own brother, Osaris.

And my favourite part, the pharaohs! In total I decided on 5 main pharaohs deemed worthy enough to live in the palace of the gods and study under them. Seti the first, Ramses the great, Tutankhamun, Nefertiti, and Cleopatra. And yes. I made them all hot. Well, kind of. They’re essentially otherworldly entities now so even in their most human appearances there’s something off about them. Essentially when they passed to the afterlife they were free from pain and could decide their own appearances and so made themselves handsome, beautiful, or to quote Tut in my favourite line from him I wrote, ��I just wanted to be able to run and play tag with my daughters.” And yes tut’s two infant daughters are in the after life and have taken the form of two little girls with Isis like wings for arms, they can play for all eternity and when Tut isn’t spending time studying under Ra he spends it with them but I’ll get to that in a minute.

When designing the pharaohs I pretty much pictured them to have three main forms. Their ‘scout’ form. Which is essentially the nightingale armour from skyrim for their body and on their heads they were sci fi versions of their golden death masks. The eyes glow, there’s hollows in the cheeks where light also emits as they filter air to pick up smells etc, and the eyelids can blink as to allow them to convey emotion without exerting the energy to bring forth an actual human like face beneath the mask.

(Pictured nightingale armour from skyrim)

The only difference really design wise is Nefertiti wears a mask resembling Bastet as she studies under her, and tut’s face mask is of his own ideal face. Not the iconic one we know because it’s been revealed that mask actually belonged to his father and tuts burial was so rushed his tomb wasn’t even his own tomb.

Their second form is their human like appearance. Essentially their ideal form outside of their scout armour. Ramses is strong and built for battle, Seti is slender but a great acrobat and he and Cleo argue frequently about who has the prettier nose, Nefertiti I pretty much picture as Ana from Overwatch just with a spear and a much younger appearance, cleopatra I now envision more as the siren from jibaro, and tut, just a very easy on the eyes, healthy 19 year old with a big fuck off pair of hawk wings.

Okay now to explain studying. Essentially the pharaohs can spend their afterlife however they please or they can study under specific gods and receive powers from them, this allows them to return to the land of the living when needed or just to explore and see things they never could or to see other realms and worlds if they wish etc, but they end up as personal servants so to speak in exchange for the teachings and if anything happens to the god that results in well, the Osiris situation, that pharaoh will become the god, lose all sense of self they held before and only retain some memories as their identity is replaced with the god they served.

Tut chose to study under Ra and was given wings and the ability to shoot flaming arrows from his bow. Seti chose Anubis and his powers can involve raising the dead or mummifying someone alive if he can hold the spell long enough. Ramses chose Sekhmet and I can’t remember what his powers are but I recall him summoning a massive sandstorm to stop the archeologists from reaching the airport when helping the reader escape back to their home country. Nefertiti chose Bastet and she’s a natural healer and comforting presence until someone hurts her son (tut) her grand daughters, or anyone she’s deemed her baby (cough cough the reader cough) then all hell breaks loose. And Cleo chose Wadjet, gifting her the ability to move like a snake and strike with venomous claws like fangs and if someone’s close enough her mask can open allowing a cloud of opium like poison to burst out like a gust of toxic wind putting anyone near her into a coma or just, well, death.

There’s a lot of forgiveness arch’s between Seth and the other gods, Osiris explains to him the plot to frame him and begs for his forgiveness for not being able to stop it, Seth forgives him obviously and generally there’s just a lot of apologising lol

Yes I added a cheesy romance scene where the reader is dancing around the archeology campsites fire with the rest of the group to the song “through heavens eyes” from the prince of Egypt. Yes Seth shows up looking like a hot ass man with an assassin like hood over his face, yes the two dance and end it with a kiss which results him exploding into a cloud of golden sand that forms into an engagement ring on the readers finger and yes Seth reforms back in his palace in the afterlife and excitedly informs his brother he proposed like a giddy big himbo.

But yeah. I might not write it in full yes it’s cheesy yes it reeks of the mummy nostalgia, yes, I love it.

~Bambi

[imagineyouandharry]

Gypsophila (H.S)

Summary: Prince Harry has been under great pressure to find a wife, and he finds his Queen in a way far more unconventional than he could’ve imagined. 

Words: 5,730

Warnings: It’s a bit strange I guess? Idk lol.

A/N: Someone requested a Prince!Harry au forever ago, and then I didn’t really have an opportunity to write for a while, and then this idea sprung up on me and I’ve been lost in this little au for the past few days. It’s like a little twisted fairytale, taking inspiration from Snow White and Sleeping Beauty mostly. Part two is already a work in progress. If people are interested I’ll even put out a little sort of world building lore post with a map of the kingdom etc (I’ve been in DEEP). This part is a bit choppy and barely edited because I was just so eager to write it and get something out, but I would really appreciate any constructive criticism and editing notes! TYSM!! Long story short, enjoy!!!

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Harry Edward Styles did not believe in true love, in fact, he thought it was the most ridiculous idea ever. Harry’s certain he’s laid eyes upon every eligible young lady, from his kingdom and the ones surrounding, and he hadn’t felt a single thing when looking at any of them. He prayed every night that he would find his love the next day, and finally be able to put his parents out of their misery and ascend to the throne. At the age of 27, Harry’s the oldest person in his family to not be married, no one every waited this long in the royal family. He would’ve had an arranged marriage at 21, though when his parents suggested that he ran away on a sailing ship for two months. One thing was clear to him: though he may not have experienced love yet, he wasn’t going to ruin his chances at true by being forced into a loveless marriage. It wasn’t only Harry’s parents, but the entire kingdom that woke each day hoping to hear that their Prince had found his Queen. They referred to Harry as the Good Prince, his subjects adored him, and lived for his acts of charity and selflessness, and they only hoped he would find a Queen that would treat them the same.

Harry’s outlook on love changed however, after his most recent hunting trip. Sundays are for family and hunting, that’s what Harry was always told. No day was for Harry, he’d come to learn that. Living under a microscope meant for very little alone time, and almost no guilt-free alone time. He and his hunting party rode across the fields and out to the dense forest surrounding the kingdom, and over the two hour journey Harry found himself agitated with the topics of conversation going on around him. He wanted a break, tired of everyone only ever speaking about royal duties or politics. Harry had discovered a fresh water lake if he went off the trail, and when he realised they were edging closer to his favourite place he decided to excuse himself with the excuse of needing to fill his canteen.

The natural spring was a hidden treasure indeed. Harry’s entire kingdom was cut off from the rest of the world due to the thick forestland surrounding it. There was only one trail in, and one trail out, and even then only experienced riders were able to make the journey. The end of the trail, in the deep of the forest, was also often lined with thieves and outcasts making it not the safest journey. This spring wasn’t necessarily hard to find, however thick trees that lined the main trail hid the spring, the gorgeous wild flowers, and clearing of soft grass either side. Harry tied his horse to his usual tree, softly parting the bushes careful to not cause any permanent damage, and stepped his way through. His kingdom was full of hidden treasures like this, tucked away in places only to be found by those adventurous enough.

The sound of the running water was most prominent, however the closer he walked to the spring, the more he could hear a faint, delicate singing voice. Harry couldn’t recognise the song, but it was one he’d never forget now. It felt as though his heart dropped in his stomach, and he had to lightly scratch his arm on a branch to double check he hasn’t died and was hearing an angel of heaven sing to him. He walked closer, with quiet footsteps so not to disturb the singing. He knelt down to the edge of the spring and began to fill his canteen, looking around his eyes eventually focused on the source of his siren, standing in the clearing over the other side of the spring as she picked a bouquet of dainty flowers. Lavender, daisies, bellflowers, poppies. Her body was dressed in sage green, the simple dress showed she definitely was not from a wealthy family, but it was simple and beautiful in its own way. Perhaps she sewed it herself, it did look as if it were made for her. He could see her hair shine from here, and the features of her side profile were striking him even from a distance. She didn’t look real. The strange girl across the spring looked ethereal, like her beauty was too surreal for this planet. Had he hit his head? Was he seeing a forest fairy? He hadn’t even realised the staggering increase in his heart rate as he watched the girl, and listened.

He lost track of how long he had been watching her for, snapped out of his daydream when he heard a “Your Royal Highness! We must be getting on!” Harry heard shouting at him from a distance, most likely back where he had tied his horse. The girl had heard the faint noise and her eyes shot in Harry’s direction. His cheeks flushed with heat as their eyes met only for a brief second, before she ran away. The eye contact brought a slight curve to his lips, although she was leaving, at least he got another good look at her.

“Wait!” He called as he stood up, his hand and canteen dripping wet. His eyes softened as she simply left, looking back briefly in her stride, but he’d blown it. “God fucking damn it.” He cursed under his breath as he began to trudge back to his horse, his feet weighing heavy on the ground.

That was the most he’d ever felt, looking at the stranger across the lake singing as if it were for him, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d just lost his future Queen. Half of him wanted to wade through the water and run after her, but Harry wasn’t a often disobedient Prince, when one of his parents or advisors told him to jump, his usual response would be “how high?” It’s ironic how for someone who’s whole life depends on finding his future Queen is given so little time to actually explore a social life, or love life himself. He was always set up with suitors who his parents found best. In the rare times he’s able to sneak away he’d gotten around, and most definitely wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never found a girl who had made him feel the way he wanted to feel about his future queen. He only wanted to please his family, and his realm, but this was the one thing where he refused to compromise.

Y/N was as far away from a future queen as it could come, or at least that’s what her step-mother wanted everyone to think. The entire town hoped to marry their daughters off to the elusive Good Prince Harry, however her step-mother only wanted her biological daughters to have that chance. When Y/N’s father passed away her step-mother sent her out to live as a recluse in a tiny cottage in the woods, she had always feared that her beauty would distract future husbands away from her actual daughters, and didn’t want to ruin their chance of being married. Each Sunday she drops Y/N off the supplies she needs, but that was the only human contact she was given. It wasn’t too bad, she managed to keep herself busy with sewing, baking, or whatever other art or craft she could think of and had the materials for. It was lonely though, and she was ultimately alone.

Well, if you don’t count forest fairies. Y/N hated being outcast into the forest, and spent most of her early months in the cottage crying to whatever wild animal she could find that day that would stick around long enough. Eventually, these wild animals started bringing their fairy friends along with them. They would spend their days with Y/N tending to fruit and vegetable gardens, watering plants, having picnics, and making daisy chains. Her life was simple, and although not one she asked, it was one she was growing fond of. Male company was something she could only imagine and long for, or read about in story books. There were dozens of fairies living in the forest, but she’d become particularly close to a group of some of the female fairies.

Each Sunday before her step mother visits, Y/N will pick her step mother a bouquet of flowers in attempt to win her over, in hopes maybe one day her sweetness will earn her way back into town. Y/N had total obliviousness towards her step mother’s plan, and towards what was going on in the city. This year, any woman over the age of 21 was to present herself to the Prince. Y/N’s 21st birthday fell on the day she was scheduled to be presented to the Prince. The letter had been delivered shortly before she was sent away to the forest, Y/N never laid her eyes upon it though. The letter outlined the royal guard would be coming to collect anyone who failed to present themselves on the day, and to Y/N’s step mother that meant the only option was to make it so Y/N never turned 21, or made it to her birthday for that matter.

Seeing the Prince most definitely did spook Y/N during that day in the field, if her step mother ever found out she’d had contact with a male there was no chance she’d ever be allowed to move back home. She did all she could think to do. She ran. She ran so fast that the petals of the flowers she had picked were ruined in her haste, quickly shutting herself inside the cottage to gather herself before her routine afternoon visit from her step mother. Sure she knew of men to be dangerous and terrible, but she feared her step-mother’s wrath more than anything any man could put her through.

Like any other Sunday, she scrubbed the house and dressed herself in whatever new garment she had stitched herself this week. The fairies had been busy this week and she’d had a great deal of time to herself, embroidering colourful flowers into the soft white linen of the new dress she had made. Her step-mother would bring her fabric and thread to sew dresses for her step sisters. It was something to be proud of, but most likely would be over looked. Little was said upon her step-mother’s arrival, but her character seemed off. Her step-mother’s eyes darted around, checking windows as she insisted on making the two of them tea. Y/N sat down at the small dining table, recounting tales of her week, ensuring to leave out anything about fairies or a boy. She watched a small bunny outside the window, forgetting to speak as awe overwhelmed her whilst she watched its tiny nose twitch. Her daydream came to an end when the sound of the ceramic mug hit the hard wood of the coffee table. “Drink while it’s warm, my love.” Her step-mother told her, sitting down in the seat at the head of the table beside Y/N. It wasn’t long after that that Y/N hit the floor, and her step-mother was shrouding herself in a hooded coat and sneaking out of the tiny cabin.

Elsie, a fairy most close to Y/N, who specialises in healing, came to the conclusion that she was only out for about six hours before the fairies found her. They did all they could over the following weeks to bring her back to life, trying as many possible rituals, potions, and spells to give life to her body once more. Nothing was of use though, and instead they decided to preserve her in a glass case in the clearing amongst the wildflowers. She had professed to them that the clearing by the spring had been her favourite place, so they saw this fit. Preserving her in the glass case was simply because the idea of her beauty decaying away made any of the fairies shriek. Fairies never communicated with humans, however Y/N was different. Elsie had always theorised that Y/N had magic in her blood. Amongst the many spells and rituals they tried to bring Y/N back, they threw in a spell that would hopefully bring her back with true love’s kiss. It was like a safety net, or a ‘what if?’ But they eventually tired and wore out, preserving her was well enough for now. They kept her dressed in the new dress she had crafted for herself, it was so beautiful after all. They had placed tiny baby’s breath flowers throughout her hair, and made sure everything was perfect. They even went as far to adorn her in delicate gold jewellery, with beautiful crystals of all colours. Her body rested upon a large rectangular slab of rose quartz.

****

Harry was dreading sitting in the throne room, while all the eligible females from the town were presented to him like livestock. It made him sick, and left a terrible taste in his mouth. All he could think of was the girl from the clearing. Is she a sign? Is he his ticket out of here? Was seeing her fate? Questions like that simmered over his mind and kept him awake at night, he had been sleeping little and finding it hard to focus on his duties. His best friend Niall was he closest confidant, the only one he had told about the beautiful girl in the clearing that day. Niall cared more for Harry than anyone, really. He didn’t just care about his fame or power or wealth, Harry was his best friend and he hated seeing his best mate so down about his love life and the pressure to marry a woman he doesn’t love. He made it his mission to find the woman, and his detective work lead him down a path he didn’t expect at all. First he went to the clearing where Harry filled his water in the spring, that was where he first noticed something over the other side of the spring that he couldn’t quite make out. He followed the spring and found an area narrow enough to cross, making his way to the structure he’d seen earlier. He didn’t know what to make of this discover, a dead girl in a glass coffin. ‘Forever at rest, only to be woken by true love’s kiss’ read an inscription on a gold plaque. He really didn’t know what to make of this. He didn’t know what to tell Harry.

Sweat lingered Niall’s brow as he made his way back to the castle to find Harry, to tell him of his discovery. “Look… I just need you to come with me and tell me what you think when we’re there.” Niall tells him, his voice somewhat breathless. Niall himself was still in disbelief, shock, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “I just- I don’t know what to tell you. You need to see it for yourself.” He adds.

Harry nods. “I’ll come immediately.” Harry tells him, his trust for Niall outweighing anything else going on in his head. Together they rode to the forest, crossed the narrow part of the spring, and towards where Niall had discovered Y/N.

“Is this the girl you were talking about?” Niall asks, however when he looks from the girl to Harry, he knows the answer. Harry couldn’t help but fall to his knees, pressing his palms against the glass as he looked inside. He noticed how long her eyelashes looked, and the freckles on her nose. His nose was almost touching the glass as he leant here on his knees at the side of her, taking her in up close.

“What happened to you?” He whispers, his eyebrows knitting together. Niall gives him a moment before he decides to mention the plaque at the foot of the structure.

“It uh, says something weird about being awoken by true love’s kiss. I don’t know if it’s true, and it’s revolting to think you would kiss a dead body for nothing, but someone has put her here. Someone made this. My grandmother in her old age would mutter stories about forest fairies and their magic… It just makes you wonder, you know?” He ponders, his eyes wandering away. It felt silly to bring up magic, it was something very commonly dismissed.

“Help me get this off.” Harry said as he brought himself from the ground, the soft grass had left green stains on his tan riding pants. He pushed the sleeves of his white linen button down up past his elbows, and the two men carefully lift the heavy glass case up off of the rose quartz Y/N had been resting on. It wasn’t easy, and the glass at the bottom dug into Harry’s fingers before they set the glass piece of the structure down on to the grass. “Alright. Here we go.” Harry said, in attempt to psych himself up for kissing a dead girl. She didn’t look dead though, just sleeping, you could only tell she was dead due to the missing rising and fall in her chest with her breath. “I might start walking back to the horses, give you some privacy.” Niall said, giving him a slight smile. He also didn’t really want to witness someone kiss a dead person, if she didn’t end up waking up.

“Good luck. Take your time.” He adds, part of him had no doubt it was going to work though. The stories his grandmother would tell him of the forest fairies were something he’d always held on to, those stories were amongst his most treasured memories. He’d always had some hope.

Harry waited until he could no longer hear Niall’s footsteps before he leant down close to Y/N, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. He took a moment, if this never worked it was going to be the last time he’d ever see her. He couldn’t fathom coming back to this spot if this didn’t work. His heart began to ache at the thought, it made his chest feel tight, and gave him the urge to rub at the spot.

“I really hope you’re who I think you are.” He whispers as he looks down at her. “This might seem like absolute madness. I don’t even know your name, but if you wake up for me, I swear to you I will be yours forever.” He began, to Harry this almost did feel like a ritual, it felt special, and the words he was speaking were amongst the most genuine he’d ever given life to. “I promise, I will protect you. I will provide for you. I will love you. I will never, ever harm you. I will love you until my very last breath, I just need you to do this one thing for me.” His voice was barely a whisper now, and breaking as hot tears welled in his eyes. He very carefully leant down, pressing his warm, puffy lips against her cold, smooth ones. He didn’t know how long to wait, but it didn’t feel wrong. It was a sweet, tender kiss. His eyes closed, and he felt at peace. It felt more than at peace. The long grass, wildflowers, and tree branches that surrounded them began to stir with wind, petals floating up into the gusts that took them. This girl had a tendency to make him feel like he’s dead and in heaven. Her lips slowly began to warm, and skin began to glow with heat. It felt like they were floating, as if the universe was made up of just the two of them. The flowers beneath him began to grow taller and more dense, and it began to feel like his heart was pulling towards hers. It felt like a tether had been formed, connecting their energy, he could feel as her heart began to pump blood again, and her energy radiate from her skin. It felt too surreal.

Slowly, Harry removed his lips to allow Y/N to breathe. He let a hand lay gently resting on her cheek as he watched her gasp for her first new breath, eyes shooting open as she looked up at him. It wasn’t shock she was met with when her eyes met Harry’s, but peace. The luminous green eyes that were gazing down upon her were like lighthouses, guiding her towards safety. So many questions began to race her mind as she came to reality, unable to decide which one to ask first. As if based on intuition, Harry decided to speak. “I uh- I’m not too sure what happened to you but my friend found you here today and brought me to you. I believe I saw you a few weeks ago, in the same spot. I’m not sure how long you’ve been out here, but there was this little plaque at the end of this thing here, that said something about a kiss to wake you up… I’m sorry for kissing you without your consent, but I couldn’t risk not taking this chance.” He didn’t mean to ramble or to overwhelm her with his spiel, but he was overwhelmed himself with everything that had just gone on. True love’s kiss. His queen. His true love. The other half of his soul, in human form. Y/N’s lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. She closed them once more as she sat up and looked around, swinging her legs off the side of the marble before looking back up to Harry. Her movement had disconnected his hand from her face, and they both longed for each other’s touch once more already. Her eyes began to well with tears as she began to think about how she got here, her last memories.

“I can only assume how overwhelming this must all be for you… We can stay here as long as you need, it’s just us. When you feel ready for it, I can take you back to my home and we can get you showered and fed. I don’t mean you any harm.” Harry doesn’t even need to add that last sentence though, because she can feel it. She can feel his love for her, she could almost hear it if she listened closely enough, as if his heart was now beating a song for her.

Harry stood back, as if to give the doe eyed girl some space. She looked at him as if he was the most precious treasure on Earth, he’d never felt so overwhelmed with love. This was followed by her delicate hands reaching out, taking ahold of his as she brought herself to stand in front of him. “Is it alright if you hold me for a second?” She asked softly, needing time to process things.

It had been so long since she had been touched affectionately, she couldn’t really remember it. Her father was never affectionate, nor her step mother or step sisters or anyone else she’d met. She felt comfortable with the stranger in front of her though, and didn’t have the energy to resist the magnet like force pulling her towards him.

“Of course.” He responds, his voice soft as he wraps his arms gently around her frame, pulling her into his warm figure. Harry was like the perfect, giant teddy bear… but he wasn’t really that soft. Pressed against him she could feel how chiseled his features are. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she relaxed into him, cheek against the skin of his chest kindly revealed by the first few buttons of his shirt being undone. “What’s your name?” He asks, tangling his fingers in her hair to lightly rub his fingertips against the tender skin at the back of her neck.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Yours?” She asks, looking up to the tall, broad man.

“Harry.” He decides on leaving out his royal title or last name.

“Just Harry?” She asks, her eyebrows raising.

“For now. We have plenty of time to talk about me later.” He notes, removing the same rogue strand of hair as before from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. It was almost as if her hair had a life of its own, breathing, like the other flora growing in the forest. He had noticed the baby’s breath in her hair, though her hair moved, they remained in the same places, as if growing out of their place on the strand of hair. “What do you last remember?” He asks, needing to know if whatever put her in eternal sleep had been by accident, or as an act of malice. She looks back away from his face, resting her cheek once more against his chest.

“My step-mother, Styephania came over, she made me tea. That’s all I can really remember.” She said, unable to stop the disappointed sigh from escaping her lips. Maybe she’d had a freak health accident, like a stroke. Just because she’d been mistreated by her step mother her whole life, didn’t mean she was capable of murder. She knew her step mother didn’t put her out here though, this was the work of fairies. They were looking on, hiding in the bushes as they stood witness to young love blossom in front of them, not wanting to disturb the two of them. “I look crazy, and it sounds crazier saying this, but I’m certain the forest fairies are responsible for looking after me and putting me here. The day she came over was the day I think you saw me here, and I’m not sure how I’m meant to feel but I don’t feel like I’ve been a dead body since then. I feel like no time has passed at all.” Harry avidly listened to her speak, her voice like caramel, seeping in his ears and warming his whole body. Harry wasn’t phased by her mentioning fairies, Niall had suspecting this being their work earlier. It was the only explanation Harry could think of. He couldn’t understand why her step mother would leave her here, why she wouldn’t find her help.

He didn’t want to worry his sweet girl now, he wanted to make sure she felt alright, safe, and cared for. His grip on her wasn’t too tight, but firm in a comforting way. “The plaque… It mentioned how you’d only be woken by true love’s kiss.” He figured the longer he waited to tell her the stranger it would be. His cheeks were red, as if embarrassed or ashamed to tell her about the plaque, how strange it all was. Her eyes met his, and the connection gave him whiplash. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, getting lost in the little pools. He wanted to know everything about her, what she liked, disliked, what she ate for breakfast, her favourite songs, flowers, secrets. Everything.

“I don’t know if I know what love feels like. The only men I’ve spoken to are all twice my age. I wasn’t really allowed to see boys. You’re definitely much, much more beautiful than I would’ve imagined a man to be, and I’m certain that my heart is literally beating for you now, since you woke me.” She tells him, the descriptions of heroes in stories she would read, or how she would imagine the older men to look when they were younger, were incomparable to Harry. The compliment made his cheeks flush. With each beat of her heart, it was as if it was pulling her closer to Harry, calling out for him, begging for him to love on her and soothe the ache in her chest.

“How has God made something so sweet?” He mumbles, he hadn’t even realised he’d said it out loud at first. “You’re breath taking. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, and trust me when I say I’ve seen a lot of them. Even from far away, the first time I saw you… You make me nervous. You make my heart race, and my palms sweat, and I get butterflies in my stomach and nervous when I think about saying the wrong thing or not having you like me. It’s as if you’ve been carved by God himself, like he was showing off when he made you so beautiful. I wish I’d met you sooner.” Those last words burn his throat, how easier the last few years would have been if he had just been able to find her sooner.

*****

Harry sent Niall back to the castle first, having him instruct everyone to clear out the path that the Prince and his soon to be queen would take to his suite, he didn’t want to spook her with people around. The guards had to stay though, non-negotiable. He also had Niall ensure the doctor was on standby, just to check on Y/N and stay in the castle over the upcoming weeks in case anything else happened. Security was going to be increased, and tightened, and a warrant put out for her step mother.

The two hour horseback ride to the castle would give them well enough time to get to know each other, Harry and Niall had also switched horses, Niall’s being the slower of the two. “I don’t want to startle you when we get there. I also don’t know how to really tell you this. I’m in the royal family, so the guards and whatnot are something to just be ignored. They’re for your protection. I don’t know if you heard much of what I was telling Niall earlier, but you’re going to be very safe here, and we’ll find out what happened. I’ll look after you, I promise.” His eyes are ahead as he speaks, looking over the vast green fields ahead of them once they eventually emerged from the forest.

“Still just Harry, to me.” She reassured, sensing his nerves about revealing this information to her. His shoulders relaxed at her reaction, and a smile formed on his lips when his mind began to wander into what their future may be like. His queen.

“Hey, one day that’ll be King Harry to you.” He joked, thankful that it was received with a laugh. Her laughter was almost as sweet as her songs, and for the rest of the journey he made it his mission to mine as many possible laughs out of her as he could, like little nuggets of treasure. After making their way through the fields that lined the forest, they went down a long road that served as a divide between two of the castle’s towns, and at the end of that road just past a small valley of mountains was a sight far more glorious than Y/N had imagined. Her village was a small village that contained mostly candlemakers and dressmakers, and it sat further to the east, people only ever going out there to purchase fine candles and clothing. It was niche though, and not many could afford the fineries the master crafters in her village would create. Y/N hadn’t even really seen a home larger than a cottage, Harry’s castle looked large enough as if it could contain its own little world, a complete wilderness of towers surrounded by fine gardens, protected by a large moat with a standalone drawbridge. Harry didn’t even need to announce himself, the drawbridge was already in the process of being lowered for him.

“I had Niall clear our path, I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’ll introduce you to everyone when you’re ready.” Harry reassures her, she hadn’t even thought of anyone else though, too in awe of the sights around her. Flowers she’d never seen before laced these gardens, with fine marble sculptures and fountains protruding from them.

“I can’t believe this is your home.” Y/N whispers, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Your home too, if you’d like.” Harry replies, though his words immediately shrouded him with nerves about rushing Y/N into anything. It was stupid, they were each other’s true love’s, but it felt wrong being strangers, so Harry tried his best to conceal things. He’d never been in a conventional relationship before, never mind whatever this arrangement is or was going to be. He just knew he wasn’t meant to rush things, so he tried to refrain from expressing his feelings as best as he could. Her arms around his waist tightened, Y/N needing to feel as close to Harry as possible. He held the reins in one hand, the other arm resting over hers around his stomach, holding on to her arm to make sure she couldn’t let go.

“I’d like that.” Y/N reassures, gently rubbing his side to soothe him. Harry was too caught up in his own feelings to pay attention to how calm Y/N was. She could feel his anxiety though, and continued to try to soothe him as best she could. Y/N knew very little about Harry so far, but what she did know was that he was kind, caring, and had a lot of worries. She’d never been a worrisome person, and if anything would even refer to herself as naive, it was something she’d always been almost ashamed of but in this moment felt like maybe she’d been made to be by Harry’s side. Y/N liked the idea of spending her days being Harry’s rock, a voice of reason. She’d rather a man like this than one who had no emotions, that was for sure. It could’ve been whatever was now eternally bonding them, but she swears she was feeling his emotions, able to see his aura if she really studied hard enough. She sunk into him some more, her arms around his waist, cheek resting against his back. Harry made sure to take it extra slow, giving his love enough time to appreciate the flowers. She seemed to like flowers, and his mother took pride in this being the most beautiful garden amongst all of the kingdoms. He couldn’t wait to show her all the fineries that came with his life.

[the-mirror-witch]

hello! I see you accepted new requests so may I ask for a headcanon/scenario (whichever you prefer!) with the dorm leaders where they see their short s/o wearing their clothes then run away? something like "If you want your clothes back then come and get it~" thank you<3

(Tooo Cuuuutttteeee! 💖💖 I love thiiiisssss!!!!)

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle was fuming, marching through the Heartslabyul like a man on a warpath. Students were ducking out of the way the moment they saw the shade of red on their dorm leader’s face. 

Why was Riddle so angry on what was otherwise a beautiful day? Knowing Riddle, it could have been for any number of reasons. Perhaps Ace had done something mind-numbingly stupid or Cater had posted embarrassing pictures on his Magicam. As it turns out, it was none of these things.

The true reason was that it was nearly time for the Unbirthday Party, and Riddle couldn’t find his dorm leader cape anywhere.

He at first suspected Ace and Deuce of pulling an ill-timed prank on him by hiding his esteemed uniform. They pleaded ignorance, but he still used his unique magic on them just for good measure. 

If Riddle didn’t find his cape soon, he was going to blow up like a boiling tea kettle. 

He happened to pass by one of the open dorm rooms (he would have to yell at the occupants later. Rule #254 stated that the dorm rooms were to be kept locked when not under inspection) and lo and behold, who should he find standing there in front of a mirror, giggling like a child wrapped up in his cape?

Yes, you, Riddle’s darling rose, where the culprit behind this entire fiasco. You may owe Heartslabyul an apology after this. But you simply couldn’t resist yourself when you found Riddle’s cape just lying on his bed. You had ever intention of returning it before Riddle could miss it, but got so caught up in the way the cape enveloped you that you lost track of time.

It also distinctly smelled like strawberries, like a certain redhead you were rather fond of.

The moment Riddle saw you, his face turned red for entirely different reasons. 

The silent moment was short-lived when you noticed Riddle in the mirror, giving you quite a start. You whirled around and Riddle cleared his throat, insisting that return his cape to him.

He should have known by the evil glint in your eye that it would not be that easy. 

So, Heartslabyul was treated to the sight of its dorm leader chasing you down the halls as you laughed like a madman.

Worry not, Cater got plenty of blackmail pictures to share with you later.

Leona Kingscholar:

Poor Ruggie really does get the short end of the bone sometimes, doesn’t he?

But what else was he supposed to do? His giant cat of a dorm leader was too lazy to do his own damn laundry, so Ruggie as Leona’s un-official babysitter had to do it for him.

You were visiting Savanaclaw, something you did on a near daily basis. You happened to stumble upon the disgruntled hyena and, in a moment of sympathy, decided to offer your assistance. 

Your offer was happily accepted. 

The two of you finished the laundry in a timely manner. You were rather pleased with yourself as you admired how nice, warm, and clean you made Leona’s shirt. 

Then temptation hit you like a rhino. Should you? Yes, yes you should.

Before you could second guess yourself, you quickly slipped on Leona’s shirt after making sure Ruggie wasn’t looking at you. You’d never live it down otherwise. 

It was so nice and warm, it reminded you of being cuddled by the lion himself. Such thoughts made you feel rather sleepy. It made you keep the shirt on just another second longer.

That second was all that was needed.

Leona was in a rather grumpy mood (when wasn’t he, tho?). You, little herbivore, were late for your routine napping session. Leona wasn’t one to normally give a flying damn about routine and timelines, but this was rather uncharacteristic of you. 

What was he left to do but to hunt you down himself? 

That was how he came to find you, wearing his shirt like you belonged in it.

The smug lion came up behind you, smirking and asking just what were you thinking, wearing his shirt like that? 

You froze up, unsure what you should say. When Leona smirked at you like that, there was no telling what could happen, and you beginning to get nervous. Well, you know what they say? Fake it till you make it.

So, you boldly looked up at him, and claimed it was your shirt now. Finders, keepers, and all that jazz. 

Leona was greatly amused, and damn him if confidence wasn’t a good look on you. 

However, Leona simply couldn’t back down from your challenge. You heard the growl rumbling deep in his chest and without a second thought took off running. You had no doubt that the King of Beasts was hot on your heels. 

Azul Ashengrotto:

The lights of the Mostro Lounge were dimmed, allowing the reflection of rippling water to become more prominent. It was very atmospheric, and allowed for everyones attention to be on the main performance of the night. 

It was rare for Azul to give a performance at the Lounge, so each occurrence was a privilege. In this case, it was the Lounge’s anniversary. The entire night had been a special one, with rare additions to the menu and discounts and promised prizes that kept the Lounge booked weeks in advance. 

The twins had kept the guests entertained for the majority of the evening, and now it was Azul’s turn. And you, lucky little angelfish, got a front row seat. 

No eyes were off of Azul as he played the piano. If the twins were to be believed, Azul was playing an ancient merman song, from the times when the Seafolk would lure unsuspecting sailors to their doom through their enchanting voices alone. Given the twins’ affinity to messing with people, you normally took their tales with a grain of salt. 

This time, however, you were inclined to believe them. There was some sort of alluring magic within the notes of Azul’s song, there had to be. It demanded attention and refused to relinquish it. You could practically smell the salt of sea wind and see the rise of ocean waves with each crescendo. You were spellbound. You imagined that, if Azul told you to throw yourself into bone-shattering waves, you’d reply with “Yes please.” 

And from the glazed eyes of the other guests, you knew you weren’t alone. 

You weren’t entirely sure what force pushed you to stand from your seat. Perhaps you truly were entrapped by Azul’s siren call. Perhaps there was an ugly part of you that bristled at the many eyes trained on the silver haired man. Whatever the reason, you moved through the mist that had settled under the lounge. Azul’s song was coming to an end. He noticed your approach, raising an eyebrow but not once stopping the movement of his fingers. It never ceased to amaze you how well coordinated he could be, despite being a literal fish out of water. Perhaps it was from years of simultaneously using ten limbs. 

The song reached its final crescendo as you came to stand beside Azul. The final wave, preparing to crash down on the battered shore. 

The wave came crashing down as you grabbed the hat off of Azul’s head, putting it on your own. You cut off Azul’s protest with a swift kiss, as gentle as the cold spray of the sea. As the guests of the lounge applauded, you stepped down and left Azul sitting there wide-eyed and blushing furiously. 

You made your escape to the underwater hallways of Octavinelle, passing by the snickering twins as you did. You weren’t entirely sure if Azul would chase after you or not to get his hat back, but it didn’t matter either way to you. Your brain hadn’t quite caught up to your bold actions. There was a part of you that was still blissfully lost at sea. 

Kalim Al-Asim:

It was late in the evening, with the half-faced moon looming over the Arabian night, and the party showed no sign of slowing down. 

Kalim had his misgivings, but he sure as hell knew how to throw a party. Even though it was undisputed that Kalim was the life of the party, with everything gravitating around him like brilliant sun that he was, he had the strange ability to make it feel as if the party was centered around you. 

Sometimes you felt guilty about stealing away Kalim’s attentions from everyone else, but then Kalim would give you that brilliant smile of his, reminding you that you were his guest of honor and it was only natural that he made sure you had the best night of your life. Well, who were you to argue with that? 

You spent a great deal of the night dancing with Kalim. Your lungs burned and legs ached, but those things seemed to disappear into the wind, scattered by Kalim’s breathless yet exuberant laughter. His joy was infectious, filling your veins with sunshine and warmth as you laughed too. 

Could a moment truly last forever? You wished that it would. This moment was perfect, as you spun around in Kalim’s arms, your feet feather-light and a feeling of weightlessness washing over you. It was all too easy to forget that there were other people around. Their presence faded into little more than background noise, leaving nothing but you, Kalim, and the lively music that sang in your bones, flowing easily from your body to Kalim’s and back again as you moved in time with one another. 

You hadn’t drunk anything alcoholic that night, but Godmother save you if you didn’t feel drunk. You were light-headed and wonderfully happy. You were in a whole new world, one just for you and Kalim. Perhaps this feeling wouldn’t carry over into tomorrow, perhaps you had this one night alone. If that was the case, you were sure as hell going to make it last a lifetime. 

You didn’t know when it happened, but at some point in the night you had managed to steal Kalim’s half-turban right off his head and had it hanging loosely around your neck. The jewels that decorated it clanked every time you moved, and it was a wonder you hadn’t noticed it before. 

Well, Kalim had yet to point it out, so he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Either way, if he wasn’t going to bring it up, then you weren’t about to. Thus, your unintentional thievery was completed.

The dance ended and you finally managed to drag yourself away from Kalim long enough to get yourself some much needed refreshment. 

Kalim truly hadn’t noticed that you had taken his turban until its absence was pointed out by Jamil. It didn’t take long for either of them to spot it hanging around your neck from where you stood across the crowd.

Kalim happily took it as an excuse to pull you into another dance. 

Jamil let out a long, suffering sigh. The two of you were hopeless. 

Vil Schoenheit:

Confession time. You might have, sort of stolen Vil’s crown. Um...oops? 

In your defense, Epel had dared you do it. He had deliberately chosen the dare, knowing no one in their right mind would attempt to steal from Pomefiore’s queen. Not unless they were Rook, or you apparently. 

Besides, how mad could Vil be? (Mad, very mad, you could practically taste the poison already, Epel was going to get you killed how could he do this to you he knew your impulse control was non-existent-)

Well, what done was done, and you proudly showed off your prize to your dumbfounded friends. In full honesty, they hadn’t expected you to go through with it.  Now that you had the crown, why not take full advantage of it. 

You took plenty of pictures of you wearing it. Epel gave on heck of a Vil impression while wearing it. All in all, you had a roaringly good time and nearly forgot that you had stolen the crown in the first place. Unbeknownst to you, a certain hunter found you with the crown in your possession and, with a cruel smile, slunk back into the shadows to relay his findings to his enraged queen. 

It didn't take long for Vil to arrive, amethyst eyes burning like gemstones that had fires trapped within them. You felt like a meek little mouse under Vil’s glare. One look towards Epel and you could practically see the “oh shit” reflected in his eyes. 

Vil held out his hand, a silent demand for you to return his property and accept your punishment. 

Welp, your grave was already dug out. Why not go a little deeper? Or perhaps that was the panic trying to rationalize your truly idiotic potato move.

You ran for dear life, dragging poor Epel with you. If you were going down, he was going with you. 

You didn’t get far. Damn that hunter. 

You and your partner in crime were caught, and the crown returned to the head of its rightful queen. 

Vil smirked down at you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek. 

There was something befitting about a crown on your head. After all, he expected the person who would stand beside him to be just as well-adorned as he was. Perhaps he should look into getting you a crown of your own. 

Idia Shroud:

Welp, Idia was lost to the realm of campaigns and RPG's. Again. Not that you were particularly surprised. Idia spent a lot of time either online or working on some high-tech invention, and would probably never see the light of day if you and Ortho didn’t drag him outside. 

You fully supported Idia’s interests and his hobbies, but you couldn’t help but feel a little lonely while you sat in his room and waited for him to finish and finally spend some time with you. 

You flopped down on his bed, pouting. Maybe you should get up and explore the Ignihyde dorm. You didn’t get to see enough of it, and as the most technologically advanced dorm in the college, it should be a sight to behold. Perhaps you could even met another one of the dorms reclusive members before they ran away screaming at the prospect of human interaction. 

Making up your mind, you got up and your hand brushed against one of Idia’s hoodies, which was lying haphazardly off the side of his bed. You thought about it for all of one second before putting it one, the hoodie practically swallowing your entire body. You giggled. With how much Idia slouched over, it was easy to forget just how much taller he was compared to you. 

Now properly dressed for your impromptu adventure, you walked out of Idia’s room and went exploring. 

Soon after, Idia finished his game, cheering in victory as he won. He pulled his headset off and stretched his back. That’s when he noticed that you were gone and he immediately spiraled into a panic. Where had you gone? You normally waited around for him to finish so that you could spend time together. 

Had you finally gotten sick and tired of him? Has he finally driven you away with his anti-social behavior? Had he just epically failed your route and received a bad ending???? NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Ortho found his brother in the middle of an otaku level meltdown and calmed him down, telling him that he had just seen you walking around the dorm. 

Ortho encouraged his brother to go looking for you himself to show you that he noticed your absence, and Idia in his still distraught state agreed without hesitation. 

Ortho “accidentally” forgot to mention what it was you were wearing. Idia was very underprepared. 

When Idia saw you wearing talking to another Ignihyde student while wearing his hoodie, his face instantly turned red. Why were you so cute, wearing his hoodie like that? Didn’t you know how dangerous for his health that was?

You didn’t know why Idia was supporting himself with one hand against the wall and another clutching his chest, but Ortho assured you it wasn’t a bad thing. 

Malleus Draconia:

You had gone to the Diasomnia dorm to visit Malleus. It was something you did regularly and should come as a surprise to no one, yet Sebek still insisted on giving you grief about showing up unannounced. 

Ignoring him, you asked Lilia where Malleus was, and the amused bat told you that Malleus was busy at the moment. Before you could become disheartened and leave, Lilia informed you with a knowing smile that Malleus wouldn’t be much longer now and you could simply wait for him in his room. 

Once again in good spirits, you thank the ancient Fae and did just that. 

Only, now that you were in Malleus’s room, you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. It was the first time you had ever been in Malleus room, and you found yourself simultaneously fascinated and awkward. Would it be okay for you to sit on his bed? Perhaps you should play it safe and just sit on the floor like a goblin. Would he get mad if you snooped through his things? Well, he might not, but Sebek sure as hell would. 

Eventually, boredom got the best of you. So, you went through Malleus’s closet. You were a terrible person, okay, it’s been acknowledged let's move on to the raiding. 

You pulled out one of Malleus’s cloaks, a black one (shocker). You wrapped it around yourself, and it was so large it might as well have been a blanket on you with the way it pooled at your feet. You always knew that Malleus was unfairly taller than you, but being wrapped in his cloak like this made you feel oh, so small. 

You weren’t going to acknowledge how the cloak smelled like Malleus, like cinder and the evening woods. Nope, nada. If you did, you would be red-faced for the rest of the evening and there was no way Malleus wouldn’t notice. 

You were just about to unwrap yourself from Malleus’s cloak when the door opened, Malleus entering and being unwillingly escorted by the ever insistent Sebek.

Malleus stared at you in his cloak with wide, green eyes. Meanwhile, Sebek got personally offended. 

How dare a human such as yourself dirty Lord Malleus’s attire with your stench?!?!?!?!?!?!

In the end, Sebek ended up chasing you around trying to get the cloak back and you ran with a speed you didn’t even know you possessed. 

Malleus was still stunned for several moments, but he eventually got enough presence of mind to order Sebek to leave you be. 

Still, after that incident, you couldn’t help but notice how, during your evening walk with the future King of Thorns, Malleus every excuse to wrap you up in the cloak he was wearing. 

Not that you would complain, as you happily pulled the cloak tighter around you. 

[guardianofjunmyeon]

Finding Atlantis (part 6)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description:   20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor,  to  any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man  has  heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But  fewer  men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean,  the key  to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold  should they  find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself.  Thus, the hunt  began.    

A/N: I meant to update last week but my VPN wasn’t working! I couldn’t access tumblr bc it’s blocked here in china but i finally got it fixed lol. This one is long! WARNING(s): Smut + Character Death (??)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

After hours of discussion and blindly heading southeast, you all were finally able to somewhat crack the code of the rhyme and the map.

“Follow the sound of your soul, she’ll call out to you to bring you back to your shoal. That’s clearly about the Atlantis return song. It’s the most important part of all of this. If we don’t get a better handle of when it appears and when it doesn’t we won’t get through the rest of the trails.”

“Trials?”

“Yes, there are three different trials masked in the lyrics of the song. The way back isn’t easy. If you leave Atlantis, you have to prove that you truly want to return,” Yeri replies.

You squint at the map now covered in writing.

“She’ll fight you to prove that your heart is true, to crush you and build you back stronger in her darkest shade of blue,” Sehun reads. “It’s about a storm. A very big one by the sound of it.” He points to an area of the map with nothing but water. “You see this area? It’s known for its unruly currents and unnatural weather patterns. It ranges from snow to thunderstorms large enough to wipe out entire islands.”

Junmyeon grazes his fingers over the map, passing the spot Sehun mentioned and further southeast. “Beautiful songs will call out to confuse the path, to distract you, but remembering your heart will get you through…if we continue beyond the location of the storm we’ll be set to approach Isla de Sirena within a week.”

“Shit,” Baekhyun murmurs.

Yeri looks on in confusion. “Why shit?”

“Isla de Sirena is an island known for luring ships underwater. They crash ships among the rocks with song. They appear as the most beautiful creature that you can imagine; whatever you subconsciously find the most alluring. I don’t know how they do it. Different people can look at the same one and see different things; they trick you that way. Mermaids…sirens, whatever you want to call them. Freaky little bitches.”

“Baekhyun,” Junmyeon admonishes.

“What? They are!”

“So we’ve got to face…beautiful singing women? Oh no the horror,” you gasp jokingly.

Baekhyun pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are so horny, and so stupid all the fucking time.”

“You’re one to fucking talk-”

“Children!” Junmyeon scolds. “Can we please hold off on the flirting until this is over?”

“We aren’t flirting-”

“Anyway!” You and Baekhyun close your mouths in embarrassment. “We’ve gone near Isla de Sirena, once,” Sehun adds grimly, eyebrows pitching angrily. “If you’re able to ignore their voices then you can see them for they are. They’re the ugliest creatures I’ve ever seen in my life.” He shivers.

“So what’s the final trial?” Baekhyun asks, back to contributing to the conversation and not being a pain in your ass.

“She’ll finally take you in her arms again, cradled and safe where all life began…” Yeri reads. A sigh. “We aren’t completely sure. It’s something about a rebirth?”

You scratch your chin.

“Maybe it’s about being drowned.”

Everyone turns their eyes to you.

“What?” you ask; your wide eyes look back at everyone staring at you as if you said something crazy. You point to the map in the general area where you think you all may end up. “There’s no land anywhere near here, and the city is underwater. Born from water, taken away from water, and then reclaimed by the water. If you leave, you must be drowned and reborn into an Atlantian again right? Why else would you forget your memories and connection to the sea the longer you’re away?”

“You are reborn in the place where life began…” Baekhyun mumbles. “You might be right. The final trial is a drowning of some kind. There’s a reason only Atlantian’s are the only people who can reach the city.” Baekhyun smacks you on the shoulder. “You’re not completely useless!”

You frown and hold your shoulder.

Bastard.

~~~

Candles cover the deck of the ship as the sun sets on the horizon. You watch somberly as each member of your crew places an object that reminds them of Taemin, of Amber, of Kun, and of Jaehyun in each of the four caskets meant to sail them to the other side.

Their bodies are wrapped in cloth to save everyone the trauma of facing their decomposing faces. Flowers, candies, articles of clothes surround each body with the things that made them who they were in life.

And will hopefully comfort them in the land of death.

Your most artistically inclined deckhand, Ten, places a portrait of each of them in their respective boat. An image to match the body.

“Jaehyun was always smiling; he worked hard as a gunner. He’d hoped one day to be master gunner of the ship.” Mark stands over the casket. “He uh, he never said much but he had the most imaginative mind of any person I ever met,” he says with a sad smile. “When the cannon backfired and killed him, it was quick, so at least he didn’t suffer for long. Farewell friend. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Luna takes over where Mark left off, standing in front of Amber’s casket. “I’ve known Amber since we were kids. She was a strange one,” she laughs. “She was very head strong and opinionated even when she was wrong. We both knew that working in the artillery was going to be rough, that it would be dangerous, but I know that she loved this job more than anything. She had a family with us, and she died where she would have wanted, I think.” Tears fill her eyes as she sits back down in the circle of crewmen.

“Kun…was like an older brother to me. He would tell me that I was getting on his nerves, but he would always take care of me…uh…take care of all of us in the best way he could. Every meal he served, every wound he healed, was done with care. Unfortunately, sickness isn’t as kind. He tended to Taemin with his last breath, tried to heal with all he had until he had nothing else to give. I’m going to miss him and his cheesy magic tricks.” Ten takes in a deep breath to keep his voice from wavering. “I hope he’s taken care of with as much love as he gave us.”

You can hear people holding back their tears. Sniffles and soft sobs escaping into the air every few seconds.

This time you stand as the representative to send off Taemin. You avoid everyone’s eyes and focus your gaze on his wrapped body and the trinkets around him. “Taemin was one of my earliest crewmen. I may have owned the ship, but Taemin was the one who knew best how she moved. He piloted with a grace and confidence I have still yet to achieve. I don’t have a single doubt that he’ll be able to guide himself to the other side without issue. He had a natural skill for movement.” You focus on an object nestled snuggly at his side. “I just hope he doesn't lose any of the things we’re sending with him the way he always loses his money pouches.” You manage a smile.

A couple of people chuckle softly, sadly.

“As Captain of the Storm Chaser, I release the four of you from duty.” You raise your gun in the air. “I couldn’t have asked for braver, hardworking, and loyal men.” You fire a single shot into the air.

It rings through the night.

Everyone stands, begins to close the wooden coffins, and Junmyeon soaks them in gunpowder and oil.

You watch the coffins get lowered into the water one by one. As they begin to float away, you, Mark, Luna, and Ten line up along the edge of the ship.

“Ready,” you all cock your guns. “Aim.”

“Fire.”

The coffins alight with flames. Yixing lights a single firework and it shoots into the air and covers the sky in bright yellow sparks.

May these lights guide them on their future paths.

No one moves until the coffins are far out of sight, their flames no longer visible. Until nothing but darkness rests in the distance. With heavy eyes, and heavier hearts, you all pull away from the railing.

Those who were close to the ones sent away cry openly and you allow everyone the rest of the night to rest and mourn as they see fit. Crying, shaking, screaming.

People cope in different ways.

As everyone disperses below deck you see Yixing rubbing Jongin’s back as the two of them cry clinging tightly to the other.

You know that Yixing grew up with Taemin. Yixing had been the one to recommend him for the crew because of their shared history. Knowing now that Yixing knew Jongin at the same time, you realize that Jongin must have known Taemin closely as well.

Leaving them to console one another, you walk away.

The stories of their deaths, of their lives, makes your heart a bit less heavy. Knowing that they died doing what they wanted, and not because life was stolen from them in situations counter to their personality eases a bit of the pain.

Minutely.

It still hurts, but the anger is no longer there. Just sadness.

This is the life of pirates after all.

Junmyeon has hidden himself away somewhere on the ship, as he always does when he wants to cry without being found, so you make your way towards the food storage for a drink. You need it after today.

People cope in different ways.

The stairs creak as you descend. One of the lanterns is already on, bright near the liquor storage. It shouldn’t surprise you. You wouldn’t be the only person who wants to drink to numb a bit of the pain.

What does surprise you is who you find hunched over with his face in his hands.

“Baekhyun?”

His head lifts and you immediately take notice of the red in his visible eye and face in the dim lighting. He seems alarmed to have been caught. He looks away in shame.

You sit down in front of him.

The bottle of whiskey at his side is half empty; you reach for it and take a sip.

For your men.

Silence shrouds you both.

You feel the need to speak. To clear the air. Whether you are doing it for him or for yourself you aren’t sure. “No one blames you, you know,” you say so softly that it almost blends into the silence. You hope he doesn’t hear.

But of course he does.

He looks over with anger. “I never said it was my fault.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re down here drinking alone after a funeral. This screams ‘this is all my fault’ you emo fucker.”

He snatches the bottle from your hands.

“Look, okay. No one thinks it’s your fault. You heard the stories. Yeah, you guys shot my ship, but their deaths weren’t directly a result of that. Things went wrong; I will accept that it was just a shot to immobilize us. If any of us thought you a murderer, in this case, we would have hung you by your neck long ago.” You forcefully grab the bottle back with a frown. “There’s plenty of other shit for you to feel guilty over. Like the time you shot me…or stabbed me…or left me on that island for dead.”

“I swear to the Gods-”

“The point is…this one isn’t on you. You don’t need to carry this guilt. Not this time.” You take a quick drink. “If however,” you point your finger at him menacingly, “this was on purpose, then I take all that back and I will kill you right fucking here I swear to the Gods.”

The bottle is taken back. “It wasn’t,” he admits, softly, angry. A swig. “It wasn’t on purpose,” he says again tiredly.

His honesty takes you by surprise. Baekhyun has killed just as many people as you have in your life. If he had tried to kill them, well that would be expected. But for him to be this affected by the accidental deaths? That’s surprising.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” he asks.

“Do you really think you’re the only person on this ship who hides down here drinking? You’re talking to the master!” you boast. “And it’s my ship you ungrateful wrench.” You finish off what’s left of the whiskey and reach for a bottle of golden rum tucked securely on a shelf. Uncorking it with your teeth, you hold it in the air between you. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun!”

It burns like hell itself going down.

You hold it out for Baekhyun with an expectant eyebrow raise. You wait.

He grabs it gently. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun,” he repeats in a murmur. He makes a noise of pain as the alcohol burns its way down his throat. “What the fuck is this?”

You shiver as the alcohol settles uncomfortably in your stomach. “It's the bad rum I think.” You cough violently. “Oh fuck I think I’m going to die,” you say clutching your stomach.

His wild laugh echoes in the dark space. A bit of the gloom lifts.

You let your hands fall from your stomach while you take in the relaxed happiness on his candlelit face. His eye crinkled in a crescent, shining with mirth. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh like that since the first time you met him.

He’s pretty. You’d have to be stupid not to admit it. From his soft and shiny hair, to his cheeks that bunch up when he smiles. From his big dumb ears to all of the little moles that dot his body.

The bottle goes back up to his ridiculously pink lips and he laughs as it hurts his throat just as bad as the first sip.

All it takes is a second of thoughtless, drunken courage for you to lean forward and quickly press your lips against his, cutting off his giggles.

When you pull pack, the happiness on his face has made way for shock and then once more to nothing.

“Don’t kiss me,” he says tonelessly. His voice is serious, but you see the spark of challenge in his eye.

Ignoring the part of you that always tells you that jumping headfirst into him is a bad idea, you lean in again, slower. You brace your hands on his thighs and feel them tense beneath your palms. He stares at your lips and you watch enrapt as his tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip.

You can feel your skin vibrating from the proximity to him, and you freeze; a breath away from meeting skin with skin. Your eyes glance up to meet his and you can see the want, the restlessness, and something else you can’t quite place in the dark.

As if waiting any longer would be torturous, he leans forward impatiently to press his lips against yours. The bottle of rum falls to the ground and spills onto the floorboards of the storage room.

You don’t care.

You push harder; open your mouth to let his tongue slide against yours in a way that sends tingles through every nerve in your body. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the touch of sadness, but something feels different about this time.

You crawl onto his lap, driven purely by instinct and press every inch of your body against his. Heat seeps through your clothes and you pant longingly as he pulls you closer by your neck, his other hand grabbing you roughly by your ass. A wanton moan escapes your mouth and he pulls you closer, rougher. Breaths puff into each other’s mouths as you messily connect your lips over and over again. It’s uncoordinated. It’s wet. It’s exactly what you need.

You thread your fingers in his hair and yank his head back; diving to lick and suck along the column of his neck, to the sensitive spot behind his ear that you know drives him crazy. His grip on your body tightens as he releases a shaky groan and rolls his hips up against yours. Anticipation thrums through your body. To every noise, to every touch your body responds in earnest.

This is nothing but a distraction. For you. For the both of you, you don’t care. Neither of you have to think as clothes are removed. The sadness can be ignored as you claw against his skin and coax his tongue into your mouth. It’s all movement. All feeling. All lust.

People cope in different ways.

It always happens like this. You argue. You fight. You threaten each other. You fuck until you’re both exhausted and too tired to care about the years of hatred between you. For these few moments all you are, are bodies. Bodies moving in tandem, kissing the right places, touching the right spots, connecting at the right angle. Like this things are easy, wordless.

You each just understand how the other works.

Every movement is matched in urgency, in desperation. Touch for touch. Kiss for kiss. Sound for sound. Push for pull. Gasps, moans, whimpers are muted as best you can in the quiet of the storage. You don’t realize that you’re subconsciously avoiding aggravating the stitches that lie there, still fresh, in his side as your hands leave burning paths along his skin.

Just for now, you can allow yourselves to feel that maybe you don’t hate each other as much as you let on.

~~~

“Get your own fucking telescope!”

“Where am I going to get one? We’re in the middle of the god forsaken ocean; do you expect me to pull it out of my ass?”

“You should have brought yours with you if you wanted to use one so bad! That doesn’t give you permission to just take my shit whenever you feel like it. You aren’t Captain here.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“I’ll do worse than that. Seulgi, get me my pistol.”

“Captain I don’t think-”

“You think you’re going to shoot me? Chanyeol where’s my gun?!”

“I’m gonna shoot you right in your last fucking working eye you dirty fucking son of a-”

A hand covers your mouth before you can finish your curse. “Baekhyun, you’re needed in the kitchen. Kyungsoo is asking for you.” You and Baekhyun share one last deadly glare before he stalks off and you’re released.

“What the hell Minseok?” You turn on your gunner, anger from your argument with Baekhyun being projected instead onto him. It has to go somewhere.

He crosses his arms over his chest, unbothered.

“So you’re in love with him right? That's why you’re acting like this?”

Your eyes bulge out of your skull. “I’m sorry, what did you just ask me?”

He sighs, grabs you by your arm and drags you all the way to the infirmary. You’re forced to sit down stupefied as Minseok stares at you expectantly. “The two of you are exhausting to watch. If you weren’t two of our most capable men we would have tied you both up and put you in the brig until we found Atlantis days ago,” he says evenly.

You scoff, mouth agape.

“I would tell you to fuck and move on, but seeing as that seems to be what triggers a fresh round of arguments, I’m going to ask that you two refrain from ever having sex on the ship again in the future.”

You splutter embarrassed. Your skin heats at having been called out so boldly. “W-what?! How- Wh- How’d you find out?”

“Any time the two of you have sex, you spend the next month or so telling all of us how much you hate him, how you’re going to kill him, blah blah blah. After a while you stop being as vocal about it, but then we make port, usually at Arae, and he happens to be there, then BAM we're back where we started. You’re obsessed with each other.”

You flush. “We are not,” you try to deny. His face is unimpressed. “I don't know where you got the idea that either of us feel anything but pure hatred for the other. Okay yeah, we’ve had sex a couple of times. So what? It doesn’t mean anything. I’ve had sex with half of Arae.” You cross your arms defiantly.

“As soon as this is all over, we’ll part ways...in 6 months we’ll go to Arae for a bit, as we always do, you’ll have ‘angry hate sex’ yet again and then spend the next month being pissy over his existence. No one who genuinely hates someone spends so much time a) around them willingly and b) obsessing over them when they aren’t around,” Minseok says matter-of-factly. “I think you should both admit you’re in love with each other so we can all move on.”

“Minseok!”

“I agree,” Jongin’s head pops up from behind the singular bed in the room.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, heat again filling your cheeks at the extra witness to this interrogation.

“I work here?”

“I mean hiding behind the bed!”

“Oh…I uh tripped and then the door opened and you guys started talking and I was too afraid to get up and interrupt,” he says quickly.

You squint in judgment.

“This whole…” Minseok waves his hand around as he searches for the word, “…archenemies thing is getting old, Captain. If you really wanted to kill him, you would have done it already. And I’m sure the same goes for Byun. Right Jongin?” he turns to face the younger.

“Yeah,” Jongin agrees with a shrug.

You can’t believe your ears. “He just…hasn’t done anything worth actually killing him over yet. He’s useful sometimes…for information…” you murmur lamely. The excuse is weak even to you.

“You are both dumb and annoying…and also super transparent. Whenever you injure the other, it’s always in a place that won’t kill or do permanent damage. Don’t act like it’s just been luck that you’ve both managed to miss any kind of serious blow from the other. You’re both deadly fighters, you know how to kill someone if you want them dead.”

“He ditched me in cuffs on that island-”

“You had the key to the cuffs,” Jongin chimes in unhelpfully.

Minseok rolls his eyes at your words. “Yes, and again, in a survivable situation. Was there not food and shit on that island?”

You open and close your mouth pathetically.

“Exactly. It’s not like you’re an incompetent dumbass. You would be able to find your way off even if you hadn’t been found. He didn’t blow the ship to bits like he could have a month ago, you haven’t slit his throat like you could have many months ago. You both dance around injuring each other, making the other’s life difficult, and fucking. You’re in love, please just accept it. I don’t care if you’re into BDSM and blood play or whatever freaky shit gets you guys off, but I would at least appreciate it if you kept it in your bedroom.”

Jongin nods from the back. “I just think it’s obvious,” he adds simply.

“Pff…Psh…Tch…I’m-I am appalled that you would talk to your Captain like this.”

“I know, I know. You could have us hanged, shot, thrown in the ocean, whatever…but the fact of the matter is that you aren’t going to do any of that, and you know that we’re right. Now, I’m going to go make sure Chanyeol hasn’t shot any of my men with any of my valuable pistols, and I’ll leave you to your duties, Captain.” Minseok nods his head with finality and exits the room.

Mutineer…

You glare at Jongin for ganging up on you. He flushes timidly. “I’m uh…gonna go see if Kyungsoo needs any help…Captain.” With a nervous smile he dashes from the room.

This is mutiny…

~~~

The ship sails southeast for days before anything alerts you all of the impeding first trial. The weather is normal, the water is normal, and then all of a sudden, the winds become violent.

“Captain, I think we’re getting close to whatever the first test is…” Yixing says tremulously.

The wind whips around you and the sails of the ship flap violently. There’s no way to tell which way the wind is blowing from as it whips from what feels like every side simultaneously. The ship tilts dangerously to one side.

“Junmyeon…that song telling you anything right about now?” You ask anxiously.

Your first mate looks out on the horizon with worried eyes. “We’re going the right way…” is all he says.

“Helpful,” Yixing murmurs sarcastically.

There is no visible sign of a storm; nothing seems out of the ordinary outside of the unnatural winds. The crew is already reefing your regular sails and raising the storm jib and trysail. If the winds get any stronger, which they will, they’ll catch your regular sails and capsize your ship before the waves even begin to hit.

“Who can man the helm? Who’s the best pilot on board right now?” you ask Yixing.

Yixing looks around a bit panicked. “I don’t know… I don’t know Captain.” The ship lurches to the side.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you scan the ship. Most of the men are working on preparing the proper sails, securing any moving parts, and making sure the wind alone won’t turn the ship on her side. You see Baekhyun working with Wendy on securing lose lines. You haven’t talked to him since your lecture from Minseok all those days ago. “Junmyeon, go check to make sure we have enough ballast in the hold. We’re going to be rocking and we need to pray that we have enough weight to keep us as stable as possible.”

He rushes away; you try to think of what else you can do to prepare. There’s no way to tell how long this storm is going to last, how bad it’s going to be, and you would rather prepare for the worst.

A sea anchor.

“Johnny!” The boatswain is immediately at your side. “Take whoever you need and deploy the sea anchor. We should have one somewhere in the hold. I need you to work fast, but be thorough.”

The ship is going to have to sail against the wind and against the waves. The wind will push the ship off course, but to survive a storm like this the ship needs to keep its bow to the waves. If a wave catches the ship on her side or back, there’s no chance for survival. You’ll have to use your sea anchor and just pray that the Gods are feeling merciful.

“Baekhyun!” you shout. He turns immediately at the sound of your voice. “How good are you at the wheel?”

“I’m decent.”

“How’s your tracking? Your jibbing? Can you keep the ship from capsizing in this storm?”

He looks up in the sky when the sound of thunder shakes the floorboards. “My jibbing isn't the best, but I think I can keep her afloat,” he promises.

The feeling of static fills the air. The hair on your body rises to attention. Another rumble of thunder rolls across the ocean, louder than before. The sky is darker than it was 5 minutes ago.

There isn’t much longer until the storm hits.

“I need you at the wheel. I’m trusting my ship to you. Don’t let me down.” With a determined nod, Baekhyun is off. You see your first strike of lighting. Bright blue and not far off.

Chanyeol runs up to you to assure you that all of the cannons, ammunition, and artillery are properly secured. “Tell Minseok to get all his men below deck in the storm rooms. Secure any hatch and pray to the Gods that we make it through this,” you instruct. He nods and runs off.

When a storm hits, it hurts more than it helps to have people above deck. Three people would do the job just as well as all 20. Half of weathering a storm is the training and skill of the crew; and the other half is just pure luck.

The beginning patters of rain begin to pelt the ship. You run back up to the helm where Baekhyun has stationed himself.

The ocean gets choppy, picks up ferocity. The ship leans starboard. Baekhyun has never steered your ship, and truthfully, you have no idea whether or not he can actually steer through a storm. You’ve never seen him at the wheel of any ship in all the years you’ve known him.

“Do you think we’ll make it through this?” you ask.

“Honestly…I don’t know,” he admits. “We have enough sea room; we won’t crash into anything this far out. I just hope we can pick up enough speed before the waves start to grow.”

Junmyeon reappears, with Kyungsoo at his side, both out of breath. “We’ve prepared all that we can. The sea anchor is deployed, we’ve got a decent amount of ballast, the jib is ready to be backwinded, and the crew is all prepared for the rocking. What’s the plan?”

“Heaving to,” Baekhyun says simply. He swipes at his bangs, heavy with water and clinging to this forehead. “We keep the bow to the waves, keep close to the wind, and then lock the helm in place.”

“Won’t we broadside?!”

“No, if we were to lie ahull, we would broadside,” Kyungsoo supplies, blocking his eyes from the rain picking up in ferocity. “By heaving to, we can keep the ship from going parallel to the waves and capsizing. We’ll have to stay above deck to correct it if the wind or waves suddenly change. Since you’ve got a sea anchor we’ve got more chance of keeping the ship sailing straight into the waves rather than along them.”

“If heaving to doesn’t work, we try to run off downwind. As the wind increases we’ll have to slow down the ship as much as we can so that we don’t dive straight into the wave in front of us.” A bolt of lightning hits the waves. The rain gets harder.

“We would die…” You say unhelpfully. Lighting blasts in front of you and the waves crash angrily against the ship’s sides.

“Exactly. So if we run off, we’re going to need more than the four of us to throw whatever heavy lines you have off the stern,” Baekhyun’s voice rises to be heard over the increasingly loud winds and waves.

“As a last result, we’ll lie ahull and just fucking pray that when we capsize the ship holds for long enough to keep all of us alive,” Kyungsoo shouts.

You exhale shakily as another three bolts of lightning flash across the sky.

Poseidon be kind to us all.

You leave Baekhyun with the job of steering the ship against the waves that grow in size and power by the second.

At Kyungsoo’s instruction, Junmyeon is in charge of keeping the jib backwinded, and you reef the trysail as soon as it becomes clear that it’s going to be a hindrance in the grand scheme of things. Kyungsoo stands at Baekhyun’s side correcting course when he gets thrown off balance. Baekhyun does the same as Kyungsoo is knocked to the side in turn.

The waves become brutal, rocking the ship so hard that it’s nearly impossible to keep on your feet for more than 10 seconds at a time.

The wind finally sets in a single direction, fiercer than anything you’ve faced, and the general direction of the waves becomes apparent. The ship rocks violently from side to side and then immediately forward and back. You’re thrown into the foremast by the unexpected direction change with enough force to knock the wind out of your body. You gasp in pain. You get up on wobbling legs and try to breathe even as the water falls so fast and heavy around you that it feels equivalent to drowning.

You can’t see more than two feet ahead of yourself.

Think. Think.

There is rope at your feet, secured to the mainmast of the ship. You untie it with cold, wet fingers and hold it tight as you walk to the helm. The ship crashes into another large wave and you fall to your knees as water washes over the bow of the hull, covers the deck in freezing water and pitches the ship forwards. You stand up, shivering but determined. You tie the rope around your own waist to help you keep note of where you’ve come from.

Getting to the helm is a challenge, but you make it. Junmyeon is helping Baekhyun and Kyungsoo lock it in place.

“We should head below deck!” You shout as loud as you can. Thunder and lightning work in tandem to drown out your voice. To remind you of who is louder. Who has more power. You’re soaked to the bone.

Each man above deck is in a similar state. “We’re going below deck!” Junmyeon shouts. “We think heaving to may work.” The ship lurches dangerously to the right.

“Quick! Let’s go,” Kyungsoo screams, hair clinging to his forehead in inky black tendrils.

You use the rope to guide you. It feels as though you’re swimming through the air with the amount of resistance the winds and rain are putting up. Kyungsoo makes it to the hatch that leads below first. You follow behind, climbing down the ladder with shaking limbs. Water leaks through the boards, but it’s a welcome change from the brutality of facing Mother Nature directly.

You gasp for breath, finally able to breathe without also inhaling water, and look around the space for the ship’s emergency supplies. The ship dips, your stomach lurches.

Freezing water streams into the room from the open hatch above. You realize belatedly that there are only two of you in the compartment. Baekhyun and Junmyeon haven’t made it down.

You’re thrown to the ground when the ship dips without warning.

Clattering catches your attention as Junmyeon is swept into the room with a fresh rush of water. “Baekhyun fell overboard!” Junmyeon screams. He crashes against the ground. The sky screams.

What?

Kyungsoo turns away from opening the hatch down to a lower level of the ship to gape at Junmyeon’s words in horror.

Gasping, soaked, Junmyeon looks around the compartment frantically.

You’re moving before you have a chance to think.

You vaguely hear your name being called out from behind, but you don’t turn around. Rope still secured around your waist, you run, slip, stumble, over to the closest life boat. As fast as your shaking hands can work, you cut yourself free of the mainmast and tie the end of the rope not tied to your body to the dinghy.

You slice through the thick ropes holding the dinghy to the side of the ship with an urgency you’ve never felt. Water hits you head on, chilling you to the bone.

The final rope snaps and you and the dighy fall into the water with the force of landing on cement. Something is broken, but your adrenaline is pumping so violently that you can’t feel the pain. It doesn’t register.

Doesn’t matter.

You look around frenzied. The water is pitch black and moving too fast. The rain pelts your skin. It stings, burns, blurs your vision.

The waves are too big for him to survive out here on his own.

They’re too big for you to survive in your search for him.

The sky roars.

The waves crash, flip your boat once, twice.

You settle upright for the second time when, by the grace of the Gods, you see his white shirt illuminated against the dark water by a strike of lightning. You row frantically as a wave begins to swell. You nearly scream in relief when you reach him, but the sound dies as your heart sinks.

He’s not moving.

And he’s face down.

With all the energy you can muster, you pull him into your little boat. You take a few seconds you catch your breath, then you realize the height at which the wave has lifted you. It begins to cascade down; instinctively, you wrap your arms around Baekhyun’s unmoving form and brace yourself for the crash.

It’s dizzying.

It hurts.

It’s terrifying.

You hold your breath, close your eyes, hold onto the man in your arms with all you have, and wait for the water to stop jostling you around so violently. The water seems to calm slightly, so you open your eyes.

The water is dark, and then bright. Black, and then illuminated by lighting.

Your chest tightens as your need for oxygen reaches desperation. You maneuver yourself beneath the water enough to hold Baekhyun with one arm and swim to the top with the other.

You break the surface and gasp for air desperately.

You pull your rope and the boat appears at your side, thankfully upright. You lift Baekhyun aboard first, and then with heavy limbs, you topple on top of him. You don’t give yourself a chance to catch your breath before you’re leaning over him checking for signs of life.

You lower your ear to his chest. You can’t tell if he’s breathing. If his heart is beating.

“Come on Byun. Don’t die on me like this,” you beg. You repeatedly push against his chest, the way you were taught to restart a heart. After a few beats you press your ear to his chest again to listen for a change.

Nothing.

“Fuck. Come on…come on,” you pant.

You pinch his nose and lean down to cover his mouth with yours, filling his lungs with the air that he’s unable to take in on his own. His chest rises each time you exhale into his mouth. You go back to pumping your locked hands against his chest. A wave knocks you on your side. The boat stays upright.

You exhale into his mouth again, once, twice. You beg the rain to let up. You beg the waves to grow smaller.

You beg his heart to start beating.

He jerks and water spurts from his mouth. Relief hits you so hard that all the energy left in your body is expelled and you sag forward and land directly onto his chest.

You can finally hear the dull thumping of his heart. You can feel the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

At last, you can take a second to just breathe.

The small boat continues to jerk around, but it’s clear that the worst of the storm has passed. The waves now are shallow and choppy. The rain has lessened to nothing but a drizzle. The thunder rumbles farther and farther in the distance.

And Baekhyun’s heartbeat gets stronger.

You close your eyes, and let exhaustion overcome you, lulled into sleep by the beat of his heart and the rocking of the boat.

[henryobsessed]

The Widow and The Witcher  Chapter 24

Summery: Geralt is home at Kear Morhen now on the mend he shows Julia his favorite place. 

Warning: small section suggesting oral Male receiving and intercourse  

Word count: 2500

A/N I have included a more explicit scene in this chapter if that is not your thing please read the alternative in bold and skip till the end of smut line. 

Chapter 24

It had been in the darkness that Julia was bought to Kear Morhen. Her mind solely on finding a place to tend to Geralt. So, when she stepped out of the stone castle into the sunshine it was not unrealistic the sensations that she was feeling. Awe was the only way to describe the majestic snow-capped mountains that sounded Kear Morhen. That and the contrasting evergreen trees that made up the forest that hid the castle that was nestled at the foot of the mountains. Why had Vesemir and the boys so readily agreed to moving to the Estate if this was what they already had? It was so sad that this place held so many bad memories for them all. The trauma of their transformations, the ransacking of the castle that killed so many of their brothers. So much tragedy surrounded by such beauty.

Breathing in the fresh air Geralt shut his eyes allowing the sun to warm up his body. All the tension he had felt inside melted as he smelt the pine and earthy scent of the forest. Opening his eyes, he sought out Julia who was right beside him up till a moment ago. Looking back he saw her standing staring at the mountains that cocooned his home. He waited drinking in the sight of her standing at the gateway to his home, her earthy dress was contrasting to her reddish-brown hair cascading over her shoulders. Her face turned up towards the mountains her skin glowing as the sun touched it lightly.

This morning as they had eaten breakfast Geralt had worried that she would see him weak for how he was feeling. That she would lose her respect for him. However, as she turned her face towards him, he could see only one thing shinning in her eyes that made him feel warm from the inside out. Needing to hold her he moved back to her quickly encircling her in his arms resting his head of hers and she nestled her back his chest. "I love you Julia" he whispered.

Julia had missed this; it had been 7 days since they had last been truly in each other's arms safe without fear. She sighed and rested fully in his embrace looking to the mountains she heard his whispered declaration. Turning in his arms she looked up into his face, he seemed at peace out here his features soft the hard edge that had been prominent since they started travelling through the villages was gone and her Geralt seemed to be back. She leaned up and kissed him on the lips, a gentle kiss that lasted only a moment but reminded her body of his.

Taking him by the arm and leading him away from the castle she said, "so where shall we explore today?" Geralt chuckled "Well my lady what would you like to see first? The wild forest, the streams or maybe a trek partway up the mountains." Geralt watched as she searched around them wondering what was running through her mind. As she turned back to him, he didn't have to wonder any more, the lazy dilated look told him what she was thinking as she leant up and whispered in his ear sending a tingle down his spine. He smiled and took her arm quickly walked her towards his favourite place to be alone.

The sun was now high making the snow glisten off the tops of the mountains. Julia's eyes were still in awe of the majestic creations and right now she wanted to commit this place to memory. She was laying in Geralt's arms on a soft mound of moss the was nestled in a small clearing in the forest. She could hear a stream trickling nearby and looking up could see the majestic mountains. In the stillness, she could hear the noises of the animals and birds that inhabited the forest and hoped their passionate display had not frightened them. Now basking in the afterglow all she could feel was peace.

She could hear Geralt's soft breathing as he slept, it was a constant for him that after lovemaking he would sleep if only for a moment. A smile crept across her face as she touched her tender lips remembering the way he had rushed them to this place. Pulling her into his arms and crushing her with his fervent kisses. As if they had been parted for months rather than just a few days. It had not been a long coming together, almost too short for her liking but she knew later they would enjoy more. Right now, she was just content to be in his arms and enjoying the majesty around her.

Hearing Geralt stir she felt the rumble of his voice "Mmmmm" it was a contented sound and one that Julia loved hearing. She moved up onto one elbow and looked down into his face his white hair strewn about, his amber eyes looking up into hers as she said. "Hey my love, how are you feeling?" a soft smile creasing his face as he reached a hand up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. He softly rumbled "Happy" searching her eyes he continued "other than Eskel you're the first person I have bought here" she smiled as he pulled her back down into his arms tucking her tight to his chest. He continued to speak as she closed her eyes and listened. "I think I was about 13 when I found this little slice of heaven. I had just survived another trial and was given the freedom to explore. I was glad for it as the walls at the castle were really starting to close in. This place became my escape, when another brother did not survive a test or if Eskel and I needed a place to just be the kids we were."

Taking his hand in hers she caressed the skin over his knuckles and spoke "So this was your place to come be you, to breath?" she heard the smile in his voice as he replied "Yes you could say that. If the anxiety or fear became too much this forest always gave me a sense of grounding. A place where I could let my guard down. The monsters stayed away from around these parts for many years as the Witcher's hunted them out. So, It was a safe place to let down my walls and relax." As Geralt talked Julia could just imagine him sitting here a young boy leaning against the mighty evergreens, or with a young Eskel pretend fighting or to play in the stream on a hot day. It helped her to see that amongst the early trauma there was also great happiness in this place.

After a day of exploring the forest, they made their way back to the castle. Today had truly felt how a honeymoon should, enjoying each other and relaxing. No intolerant villagers, no monsters just Julia and Geralt. The night was spent in companionable silence, the three sitting in front of the fire in Geralt's room. Vesemir hand made them a meal of Venison and then after they had finished, he left them to themselves. Julia watched Geralt as he seemed lost again his mind on the past. She could see clearly the thoughts moving around his head by the way he clenched his jaw. The firelight illuminated his features in a way that stirred not just compassion for her beloved but also desire.

Deciding to be the one to initiate tonight she stood and walked to her bag of elixirs. She had packed a small bottle of honeysuckle oil and a larger bottle of massage oil. Looking back and seeing he was still distracted by his thoughts she quietly changed into the garment that Ruth, Hannah Renee and Nessie had gifted her on their wedding night. Dabbing the scent on her skin she moved back towards her object of desire.

Geralt was struggling, his mind swirling with images from the past. It wasn't as bad as it had been this morning the anxiety wasn't as strong, but his time in the forest today seemed to have unlocked more memories from his childhood. He took a breath to centre himself and was hit with a scent that pulled him from his past into his present. Turning his head his breath hitched at the sight before him. A slow smile stretched across his face as he realised what Julia was doing. She moved quietly towards him her eyes never leaving his. He could see the desire in those eyes and that caused his heart to beat faster. As she got closer the fire illuminated her silhouette through the shear gown, a siren he was sure he had married a siren.

(Warning sexually explicit scene to follow)

Julia chuckled at the look on Geralt's face, she knew she had succeeded in pulling him back to the present. Kneeling between his legs in front of him she gazed into his eyes, desire and love reflected her own as she began to undo his shirt buttons. She relished doing this part of their foreplay depending on his mood she would slow it down or he would just pull it over his head in haste. Tonight, she wanted it to be slow. His hands moved to play with her hair as she continues to undo each one, the feel of him running his fingers through her curls sent a shiver down to her middle. Finishing the last button, she moved her hands under the fabric to expose his muscular torso.

Pouring some of the oil on her hands she pushed him back into a reclining position as she began to massage the oil onto his chest. Geralt laid his head back in a groan as she worked her hands into the pectoral muscles and around the scars that were healing. She moved her hands lower working around the abdominal scar. It wasn't till she reached his lower abdomen that she heard a growl come from him, looking up she could see he was watching her intently. Wanting to show her beloved how much she desired him she started to undo his laces. She brushed ever so slightly the tent that was growing under the fabric of said laces and Geralt groaned.

– alternative to Smut – and smiled down at his beloved she could see the desire in his eyes as he stood, picking her up and walking with confidence towards the bed. She smiled to herself thinking it had worked, before becoming lost to the sensations of desire.

Smut-----------

Her hands ran along his hips and succeeded in lowing his pants exposing his desire. She smiled; she would never get tired of seeing his physical expression of desire for her. Looking back up to his face wanting to see his eyes as she ran her fingers lightly over the soft velvet skin the was stretched tight across his manhood. His eyes seemed to roll back into his head at the contact.

She was torturing him; he was sure of it. Each feather-light touch, and her faint breath on his hot skin as she continued to inspect every vein and ridge. It was sweet torture, every fibre of his being wanted to just take her now, but he could see in her eyes that she was enjoying this. Enjoying mapping out his body. Trying to relax and allow the sensations to dance, to prolong his need to take control he shut his eyes and focused on enjoying her touch.

A hot moist feeling engulfed his senses, eyes opened and gazing down as he took in a sight that was almost too much to contain. Loudly groaning as he watched his siren devour him feeling the build-up and knowing he was close he reached down and pulled her up to straddle his body. He needed to be inside her, needed to claim her. Thankful for the easy access the garment afforded he entered her with ease her warmth engulfing him as she gasped with pleasure. Looking into her eyes he moved with easy until he lost control releasing a guttural cry.

----------------------End of Smut-----------------------

That night Julia lay cocooned in Geralt's arms, he had wrapped his himself around her and pulled her into the familiar warmth then fallen asleep. Julia had slept deeply until a sound woke her. It was a gentle sound at first a whimpering that she could hear just near her ear. She moved her body around so she could pull him into her embrace as the whimpers increased in intensity. Her movement was matched with a response as he snuggled into her arms as he had done the morning before. She was not sure if he was awake or dreaming so she just waited running her hands through his hair and whispering "Sh, Geralt." The whimpers faded, his breathing became steady and she felt him squeeze her gently. After a moment of laying in the dark, she heard his deep gravel voice whisper "Why did she leave me?" so much hurt laced that question. So much pain. Julia squeezed his shoulder knowing there was nothing she could say. The action brought about a surprising result as Geralt began to cry.

He held tight to Julia; his dream had been a memory. Visenna had been taking him somewhere, his child-like mind was focused on other things than the destination. He had been peppering her with questions, his normal chatter, when she had stopped the cart near a forest. Giving him a bucket, she had asked him to get some water. When he returned, he found her gone and Vesemir waiting for him. He had been walked back to Kear Morhen and bought to this room. Sitting on his bed he had begun to cry. He had awoken in Julia's arms her sweet voice whispering to him and her arms around him. As he voiced the question that he knew he would never have an answer for he began to feel the burning sensation in his throat. Not since he was a little boy had he allowed himself to feel this deeply but as he felt Julia squeeze him close to her it broke the last of his defences and he felt the deep grief bubble over as he began to weep.

Julia knew that she held in her arms right now not the strong warrior who was her husband but the child from her dreams. The child that needed to know it was ok to cry, it was ok to grieve. Geralt wept for a long time as Julia continued to run her hand through his hair and rubbing his back until he had cried himself to sleep. Unsure of how he would be when he awoke, she just held him. There was a sense of peace now in the room, a quiet. She heard the faint sounds of the forest birds waking as the light began to creep through the window. It was a new day and she hoped for Geralt it would be the beginning of his journey of healing.

Previous Chapter Twenty Three                              Next Chapter Twenty Five

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[hughiecampbelle]

Skin Crawler (Geralt of Rivia Oneshot)

Character/s: Geralt

Word Count: 1,342

Inspired By: going bonkers in quarantine :)

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @biscottibitch @randomfandomimagine @fangirlsarah16

A/N: Writers block hit ya gurl like train recently. I've had so many ideas, but everything I write and continue to write feels wrong. Tonight though, I made it my mission to finish this fic! It turned out better than I expected, but I'm still really unsure.... Been stressed with family and about getting my results back from a school I wanna transfer to and it's gotten in the way of all writing and creativity, not just for fics. Gotta work through it and try my best, even if I'm unsure about the end result, right? Anyways, I hope you like it my loves!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

A myth. A legend. A story sewn through the years, from the mouths of babes, their toothless tales warping, drooling over the past, becoming mutilated with every new generation. The image of this creature, this beast, torn to shreds. Pulled apart limb by limb, tendon by tendon, strings of veins delicately plucked and knotted back together. It all depended on the family, the area, the one who told it's history. The creative freedom genetic, hereditary. The personal fears of the speaker embedded in the body of the beast. Big eyes. Six limbs. Sharp teeth. Claws. Eventually, it became truth. Fights, wars even, broke out when some dare utter it's name in public, drunkenly letting it slip past their lips. There was only one thing the masses could agteen on: it always came with a bloodlust. A hunger for bone, a want for flesh, something that could never be hushed. Across lands, even the most isolated places, feared this thing chewing them up and spitting them out.

A cursed thing. Hundreds of years pass by, and yet they still cower at the name. Children brought up to fear these things, warned that a death wish rest in the woods if they ever went alone when the sun went down. Deep within, that's where they lay. They used to be countless. Infinite. In packs all over the world. There was strength in numbers. Was. People of the past, they grew tired of being scared. Exhausted of fear, of terror, wanting something better for their children, for the future. They wanted the light to shine again. Sending their best, their biggest, to fight, to kill, to put an end to the terror. Some came back. Some didn't. Those that did carried skins of their backs of scales, of fur, whatever it was those things looked like. Massive. Night after night, a kiss on the cheek, a promise to come back safe, sending them off into the uninown. It wasn't immediate. It wasn't easy. It was a long, hard war, but they never stopped. Not until there was only one left. Going into hiding. Receeding, shying away for as long as it could, for as long as they were willing to hunt.

This time it was the one that was afraid. Unsure if it would live another night.

It would, though. Lived in hiding. Watching, one by one, the hunters grow grey, their kin grow up, grow old. Waiting long enough for them to trade their weapons for words. Creeping out of its prison, spotted in the night. Screams for help, for safety, looking for someone to put an end to the nightmares permanently. That's where he came in. Something of a beast himself. Split between the two worlds. They hoped he could think like it, see what makes it tick. Track it down and kill it. A poor people, putting whatever they had together as payment. Do whatever it takes to get rid of it. For too long they'd been haunted by ghosts, too long they went without a happy ending. He was that. He would be the golden eyed knight in shining armor risking his life to save them, his image stitched along the rest of the story, bringing it to an end.

He'd always had a fascination for it. A life as long as ten mens, an image created by weary eyes and infinite imagination. He'd seen more creatures than he could count, than he could name, but this was something special. Finally, something worth fighting for. It could have had the face of a million things created by man, compared to every living beast that ever wept under the sun. Beautiful and delicate, or broad, strong. As soft as a cub or razor sharp as a blade. This unfamiliar feeling settling in his gut, putting him off ale for the first time he could remember. It woke him from his sleep, filling his dreams with terror. Unlike the very thing he would slay in a few short hours, this had a name. This was familiar. This was doubt. This was uncertainty.

Geralt dressed at dusk. Nocturnal, they said. He begged to differ. He'd lived as both man and monstrosity. Sometimes it was safer to use the night as a cloak of protection, of invisibility. Whatever it was, it was smart. It wasn't new to survival. Part of him pitied it. The last of its name, like him. What a lonely world it must be. He made his way through the trails, going where no man dared, the grass that had been kicked up and trudged through growing thicker the further he went. Left his horse behind with a final goodbye. This was his own battle. One, he realized, he might not come back from. Everything too often ended in death. He could only hope it would not be his own.

You watched him, caught sight of his moonlit hair through the thick of the woods. Angry, determined, but there was something else in his footsteps, something greater: panic. His racing heartbeat like a drum, faster and faster, frantic with every step closer. Lived in the caves, beyond what the eye of man could see. He believed them, he trusted them, and now he had to trust you. Sword in hand, shiny, glittering, aching to tear the world in two. You huddled against the walls, crouching in the dark. He wasn't like them, you realized. Those men, those brutes, slaughtering mindlessly, praying on the weak, celebrating death. You'd watched them carry the skins of your friends on their backs, mourning their own and cheering on bloodshed all in the same breath. He came alone, taking the weight of it all on his own broken shoulders.

Reaching the mouth of the cave, the den that cradled you all these years, he sighed. The light ending, sending him into the abyss. You couldn't let him hurt you. You couldn't let him believe these ancient lies any longer. He had to know the truth. You had to show him the truth. Letting out a whimper, leaving him something to follow. Cautious, he stepped, his knees weak. What would he find? What would he finally come face to face with after all? His hand free hand outstretched, his other raised with the sword. You stuck your face out, eye to with him, bracing for the sharp edge of something sweet to slice through your neck in seconds, readying for your fate. Geralt dropped his weapon, his breath catching in his throat. Realization sinking in, flooding his body with relief, with guilt, with an overwhelming urge to cry. He'd been prepared to see anything. A dozen legs. None rows of teeth. The howl of a thousand screeching sirens. His worst nightmare, even. But not this.

Not your eyes. Not the very thing he fell in love with centuries ago.

They were right, after all. A curse. An unlucky bunch. One after the other, stumbling in the woods alone when the moon was full and the stars were alive. You never saw her coming. Blinded, dragged, no use in fighting. Thrown in the middle of their den. Screeching, crying, these creatures wailing. Not out of anger, but terror. Escaping the light of the lantern, avoiding the eyes of a woman. Beneath her cloak she became hysterical, throwing it in their faces, watching them wail. She found comedy within their pain. Each backing away, pawing at the rocky walls. You hadn't realized it until it was too late. They were just like you. And now, you would be like them. A kiss, soft, sad, an apology before she got to work, did what she'd intended to do. A witch, as close to one as you'd ever come. Your body torn apart, bones broken, blood vessels bursting, reborn into something new. Something bigger. Less human, more monster. She threw what you used to be in the trails, warning folks away. They didn't understand, though. Reading the messages all wrong.

Those beasts, they weren't feeding off those people. They were those people.

[mythgirlimagines]

Oh! And I see the DR1 cast as these monsters/creatures/etc for a Monster AU Makoto: human Kyoko: Kitsune Ishimaru: Angel Mondo: Werewolf Celestia: Vampire Alter Ego(yes I'm including him): Robot Chihiro: Puppet Hifumi: invisible man Leon: Demon Sayaka: siren Byakuya: sorcerer Toko: shapeshifter(I imagine her using Chihiro's shape a lot for some reason. Don't know why.) Mukuro: harpy Aoi: Mermaid Sakura: Ogre Junko: harpy Any headcanons for each person as the assigned species?

I hope you don’t mind that I added Hiro in as an alien, since he’s not in the ask

Sayaka Maizono (Siren):

Nothing is more important to her than her singing.

She’s lured many sailors to their deaths, though those are inconsequential to her.

Because she can only live until a mortal can hear her song and live, she never sings around Makoto.

Mukuro Ikusaba (Harpy):

She has only heard of people calling harpies the ugliest of monsters.

She takes her duty as a spirit of the wind seriously, and is a fast flier.

However, she is not below stealing food or other necessities from mortals.

Leon Kuwata (Demon):

He has a lot of tricks up his sleeves for when he needs them.

For the most part, he’s not entirely evil, per se.

He sees himself more as a guiding spirit of sorts.

Chihiro Fujisaki (Puppet):

Chihiro doesn’t really know what it’s like to have actions be his own.

It always feels like someone intangible is controlling him.

He wants to be able to make his own decisions.

Alter Ego (Robot):

Alter Ego was not always a fully conscious AI in a robot’s body.

Moving around was a new thing.

Alter Ego was sure that it would be easy to get used to.

Mondo Owada (Werewolf):

He preferred to not be around people at night, just in case.

Days approaching a full moon put him in a really bad mood.

To his knowledge, he had never bitten anyone, and hopes to keep it that way.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru (Angel):

Taka was a firm believer in always doing what’s right.

He sees himself as a guardian angel to all of his friends.

He’ll always guide them in the right direction.

Hifumi Yamada (Invisible Man):

For the most part, he doesn’t mind being invisible.

Sometimes he uses that to play tricks on his friends.

It definitely helps him out of some sticky situations.

Celeste Ludenberg (Vampire):

She was turned a couple centuries ago.

She’s a bit old-fashioned, and wishes things to go back to the way they were.

She’s notorious for hunting human blood every once in a while.

Sakura Ogami (Ogre):

Contrary to popular belief, she does not eat humans.

She’s the strongest of all of her friends, as well as the tallest.

She hates being accidentally labeled a giant, as giants and ogres are two different races.

Junko Enoshima (Harpy):

She has heard many tales of harpies being beautiful.

She steals from humans much more often than her sister.

She loves the feeling of flying as fast as she can.

Makoto Naegi (Human):

He didn’t know what to think about all of these...well, monsters.

A lot of the time, especially when he first met them, he feared for his life.

Now, though, they’re some of his best friends.

Kyoko Kirigiri (Kitsune):

She is, of course, very intelligent, and has the ability to easily trick or deceive others.

She prefers her human form to her fox form, since she can do more in it.

While some think she can not be trusted, she is very loyal to those who do.

Byakuya Togami (Sorcerer):

He comes from a long line of powerful sorcerers, and never lets anyone forget it.

That being said, he doesn’t use magic for anything trivial.

He doesn’t offer it if anyone needs help, either. He keeps it to himself.

Toko Fukawa (Shapeshifter):

She more or less hates all forms she takes, though she does like taking on Chihiro’s form.

Shapeshifters are often looked down on because of trickery.

She is no exception, and is not usually trusted by those who don’t really know her.

Aoi Asahina (Mermaid):

She tends to hang out a lot with Sayaka.

She can’t really walk, since she has a tail instead of legs, but she’s a fantastic swimmer.

To her, there’s nothing better than living in the water.

Yasuhiro Hagakure (Alien):

He’s...a strange sort.

He isn’t always comfortable around the other monsters.

He does like learning about them, though.

[hjclayton]

legacies

who: lots of different people!

what: surprise lol

where: ireland

when: 1930s!

COUNTY CORK, IRELAND. 1934.

After the faerie uprising in the faeire realm over one hundred and fifty years ago, all magical beings had escaped and left their lives behind in favour of safety in the human world. Whilst it wasn’t nearly as exciting and beautiful, the lands offered a haven for those who had wanted to escape the tyranny of the monarchist faes.

Vampires favoured the darkness and cold weathers of Europe, and with powers of stealth and hypnosis, their wealth grew over the years. Witches and warlocks favoured the wonders of both that and the Americas, whose magic allowed for stable incomes despite trickery. Mermaids and sirens took shelter in Southeast Asia, Polynesia and Australia, caring little for gold and found comfort in the untouched human waters. Where did that leave werewolves? To scramble for the remaining scraps.

Unlike their cousins, the wolves had no powers to conjure wealth into their own hands. They had no tools of witchcraft or mischief to fool humans, nothing but each other and their anger. They settled anywhere and everywhere, suddenly having to hide a part of themselves they had expressed so freely before. And that was the worst thing you could do to a werewolf; keep it locked up.

Their anger and pull to the moon meant wolves were forced to hide away from humans, from fear of harming innocents or exposing their community. They were no match for human weapons. But where did this leave them? Poor, unable to provide for each other and their families, in a world they couldn’t even interact with. How could you find income from people you weren’t allowed to see?

For many years, this pattern of secrecy would continue. It took decades for wolves to evolve from “feral” beings in tune with nature, to the community we see today in the 21st century; cautious, protective, tame. Whilst wolves became more controlled and were finally able to mix with humans peacefully, they lost their ability to connect with nature and still remained the poorest of supernatural creatures.

Despite this, one man remained determined to lead his pack to a successful future; Cahal Morrigan, a direct descendant of the original wolf settlers, and alpha to his small but strong town. Though his pack still remained separate from humans geography, the man posed as “mayor” of sorts, working with other local leaders to build his home up, alongside his wife Imogen and only daughter Brea. The light of his life, his little warrior. Unlike humans, werewolves did not view women as inferior, in fact, the concept confused them and they found it awfully strange. One day, Brea would become the next alpha, something she often talked of each day.

“How many days until the next big moon, dhaid?” Brea sat upon her father's shoulders as they walked through the everlasting greenery of the Irish wilderness. Perhaps one of the better places a werewolf could have chosen to settle in. The wolves had picked up the native language long ago.

“Seven.” Cahal smiled, stepping over a fallen tree. “A whole week.” He noticed his daughter whine a little.

“A week is seven days?” She was only four. “That is too long!” Her father only laughed, shaking his head slowly. Hundred of years ago, werewolf children seemed to develop their powers at a much younger age. The onset had doubled since they first moved to the human world.

“Come now, Brea... weeks go by awfully fast. You’re already four. Only yesterday your mother gave birth to you.” Giggling, the small girl patted his head and began to cast her eyes over the birds that snaked their way through the trees, her senses picking up on every smell. “You’re hungry. Let’s go eat, your uncle has hunted for us.”

However... the closer the pair moved to their tiny settlement, a strange smell began to fill the air; smoke, deep and strong, it all made Cahal come to a slow halt, a frown on his face. “What’s wrong?” Brea asked, noticing her father’s behaviour.

“Hush, Brea... I need to listen.” Closing his eyes, the man focused his hearing on home, imagining the pack and his house, his wife and the woodlands that surrounded it. Suddenly, he could see everything, a vision of sorts, but it very real and happening right now; they were being attacked. His eyes opened suddenly as he let out a small gasp, moving his daughter from his shoulders into his arms and beginning to run as fast as he could.

“What’s happening?” Brea pressed, her own face turning to a slight frown of fear as he saw her father’s expression, her own hearing picking up the sounds and smells in the distance: smoke and screams. But Cahal said nothing. He only rushed into the clearing to find the entire settlement ravaged by mysterious beings he had never seen. Their scents were strange and they moved with a mysterious aura... their bodies creating strange energies... Magic? But this wasn't witches magic. Eyes widening, Cahal looked to his left and noticed his wife rushing towards him.

“Cahal!” Imogen ran to his side, taking their daughter into her arms who had begun to cry at the sight -- wolves, both in animal and human form, fighting the unknown enemy as bodies fell to the floor, fire filled the air and danced with the sounds of yells and screams. It was bloodshed.

“Take Brea and hide.” He insisted, feeling his blood boil from both anger and panic. He ignored his wife’s pleas, shaking his head. “Go!” Focusing on his daughter, he pressed a kiss on her cheek and wiped a tear away. Despite the chaos, he could still find that gentle touch for her. Placing his hands around her face, he lifted it slowly so she could face him. Always wanting her to be strong, he only smiled and said, “Look after your mother, laoch beag.” Little warrior.

Turning back up, the man’s eyes turned a deep shade of red, and he made no haste in running into the chaos to defend his home, defend his people. He had always protected them. But... these people were too strong. Their magic was powerful, despite the strength and speed of the pack, they were no match. It was something a werewolf didn’t understand so they didn’t know how to fight it.

Cahal watched helplessly as each and every member of his community was picked off like a speck of dust by these villainous people. Men, women, children, they didn’t seem to care, for every one faerie he took down, they took down five of his people in a matter of seconds. It all felt so hopeless, seeing his own friends perish at the hands of their new foes. And all he could do was watch.

Stumbling exhausted through the wasteland of his former home, the man heard nothing... saw no one it was..... empty, barren, dwindling fires and dark skies. His body covered in cuts and bruises, Cahal searched for his wife and child through stinging eyes, courtesy of the smoke.

“Imogen!” He called, his voice hoarse and fingers trembling, “Brea!”

“Dhaid!”

Gasping, the father saw his wife and daughter in the distance... alive. The onset of panic deep in his stomach fizzled away as he felt relief in knowing his family was safe. And apparently... they were the only ones. Beginning to run to them, the werewolf came to a sudden halt when he noticed... dark magic trickling through the ground and growing until a man appeared before him. Someone he’d never seen in his life.

Perhaps... the leader of this group. He seemed stronger than the rest, slicked-back dark hair, tanned skin, eyes as black as coal. He was terrifying. He began asking questions, demanding to know whether Cahal was the alpha of the group, the alpha of a pack far more civilised than most he had encountered. Glanced between the stranger and his family, Cahal saw how scared his daughter was.

“I am.” He swallowed loudly, trying to keep the peace.

But the man only smirked, a dark, disturbing look on his face. Perfect. Cahal frowned, moving closer, “What... what do you...” He couldn’t say a thing. He had no time. Like a lost child, he watched the stranger wave his hand so carefully, seeing the dark magic grow and grow before it pierced the heart of his wife and daughter. So... easily. Letting out a cry, Cahal staggered forward with tears in his eyes but it was no use. The man, usually so strong, found himself so... numbed, as he watched the life drain from them both.

He heard the laughter from the man but he didn’t listen. He simply fell beside them both, wrapping his arms around each one as he let out loud sobs. Loud, aching, empty. The stranger stood in front of him merely stared, shaking his head, and then he... vanished.

TWO WEEKS LATER;

Two weeks had passed since the Cork massacre. Word had spread among the supernatural community in Ireland, reaching the ears of the local witch coven. The witches had been shaken by the news that Cahal, driven mad by the loss of his family, had been killed by Lark, or as they liked to refer to him as, the Dark One. Cahal's death had disastrous implications.

Inside the home of the coven, five women sat in a small candlelit room, an elderly woman sat opposite them. They said everything, she said nothing, simply staring as they bickered amongst themselves.

"Haven't you heard? He was banished. He cannot hurt us anymore."

"You think exile will stop that man? Have you not seen the things he's done? Without Cahal, we are all nothing!"

The woman continued to fight over the unknown situation. Some argued that his exile meant peace, at last, others dreaded his return in time.

"What did we even have to begin with? Cahal was protecting no one!"

"The prophecies never lie, one day Cahal would help Fe--"

"He will rise again one day." The elderly woman voice was hoarse. She had been quiet for what felt like decades, simply staring and listening, even in such grave times. She was blind, glazed and glassy eyes staring ahead. The few remaining coven members turned to the woman in hunger for answers. "He will rise again and cause grave violence for his own people. But he will not stop there, nor will he show mercy. He aims to have the whole universe in the palm of his hands." They called her The Oracle for one reason; she predicted the future.

The few witches stared amongst each other, their eyes filling with horror. Lark would one day return. The oracle never lied; her prophecies spoke only the truth.

"... Only one can stop him." She continued, her voice breathless and tired. "Born to the blood of this coven, he will stop the dark one."

"A witch?" Someone questioned, confused at how any witch could stop someone as powerful as the dark one.

"... A wolf. Bounded with the spirit of old, he will rise one day and save humanity from its darkest threat. No werewolf before stands as powerful as him. No werewolf to come will rival him. A being the dark one and his companions fear."

"... Fenrir?" The witches gasped.

"The legend is true!"

"But Cahal is dead!... He is dead. He will not return."

The witches argued amongst themselves, and the oracle only listened. They were all wrong, as always. "The Keeper may not physically live among us anymore, but his spirit remains in our world, and he waits for the chosen one's return. He will help Fenrir understand his purpose."

The women looked among each other. "How will Cahal find him? When?"

The Oracle remained silent for some time, staring ahead. She was thinking, seeing. "He will know."

One witch, who'd remained quieter than the rest, finally spoke up. "What if Lark discovers the legend is linked to us? He will surely destroy us all." The room grew tense with fear and uncertainty. Lark wouldn't hesitate to harm anyone in his way. "He's killed the Keeper, when he discovers the chosen one is our descendant, we will become just another victim."

"We must conceal our magic." The Oracle responded, making all the woman gasp.

"Surely you cannot be serious! Conceal our magic? Just... hide away, after everything we've built for ourselves? For our legacy?

"There will be no legacy if you do not." The elderly woman remained calm. "We must sacrifice our magic. Doing so protects us... it protects him."

"... How can a descendant of a witch be a werewolf? It makes no sense!"

"His path has already been written in the stars. But it will never be unless we do our part to protect him. Your great-grandson, Orla. He's the only one who can defeat such an evil."

1ST NOVEMBER, 1997.

Decades had passed since the meeting amongst the tiny coven in the rural hills of Ireland. As instructed, the witches had concealed their magic, forgotten their roots and left their lives behind. They had moved away and acted as strangers; Orla had moved to Surrey and married an Englishman, and said nothing of her heritage to no one. Not her son nor her only granddaughter, Grace. She had died happy, but in secret, praying that Grace's child would fulfil the prophecy spoken of him.

The Oracle herself had remained in Cork. Outliving everyone somehow, despite no magic herself. She had simply been waiting all these decades, waiting and listening. That night, the woman was stood upon the cliffs that looked out onto the stormy seas, the air cold, the sky dark. She had sensed a change coming.

Waiting, the woman felt the air change when a booming thunder echoed across the sky. Loud and chilling, it almost sounded like... a snarl. A wolf snarl. Though terrifying, the woman smiled softly, knowing the prophecy was in motion, somewhere in the world.

"Do what must be done, Henry."

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #17: Storm

Iris was laughing as she got in the car. “Weather reports say it’s gonna be a big one!”

Caitlyn had just met this woman. This was a ridiculous idea. Chasing a violent thunderstorm had to be the dumbest idea any human ever had, surpassed only by chasing tornados, which apparently Iris also did when she was further west. There was no way in which it was a good idea to get into the passenger seat of the car.

Caitlyn slid into the passenger seat. “Just so you know, I feel like this is probably a dumb idea.”

“Of course it’s a dumb idea!” Iris started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “Humanity only progresses by having dumb ideas!”

Her laughter, her cheer, was infectious. Iris was nearly six feet tall and easily two hundred eighty pounds, her hair buzzed short and her arms tattooed. She was everything Caitlyn’s mother would have told her to be wary of. She was also sunlight in human form. Her force of personality was blinding, overwhelming, but warm, and it lit up the world.

On the interstate, the miles per hour crossed the 55 line and continued to go up. “Where are we going?” Caitlyn asked. “I mean, yeah, a thunderstorm, but physically where?”

“We’re going south to intercept it. Probably hit it near the Maryland border, so we’ll take the bypass to the wild side of Delaware and follow it down on local roads.”

“This is crazy. You know that, right? It’s just a storm.”

“They’re never just storms, Caity.” Caitlyn could have gone a long time not knowing how Iris was spelling that, but unfortunately, Iris had addressed her by name in the text she’d sent to provide her number and email address. “Storms can kill people. They don’t have to be hurricanes. They knock down trees, they take out the power, they cause accidents. So I hunt them down.”

“That… really doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh, you’ll see! It’ll be fun, I haven’t had a friend along on one of these trips in a year!”

Iris cut off a tractor trailer, causing the bellow of an air horn behind them. Small wonder no one wanted to go with her. “What happened with the last friend?”

“We broke up. She thought I was reckless! Can you imagine?” The smile Iris briefly flashed at Caitlyn before turning back to the road knew exactly why her ex thought her reckless, and was self-mocking about it.

“No, I can’t imagine it,” Caitlyn said, deadpan.

“But you know I’m reckless and you got in the car with me anyway, so if sometime in the future you say to me, ‘you’re too reckless’, I can say, ‘you knew that about me on the first date.’”

“This is a date?”

Iris’s laughter this time was almost a bark. “Pretty sure it must be! You’re not in love with storm chasing and you don’t like the way I drive, so you must have gotten in the car on the strength of my beauty and charisma, or something.”

“Something,” Caitlyn agreed, though in fact that was exactly why she got in the car. There was no way Iris could be considered beautiful by airbrushed Hollywood standards, but Caitlyn had always thought those women seemed somehow plastic, unreal, and now she knew why. Iris was realer than real, larger than life, and since they’d met and started talking at the mixer less than an hour ago, she’d known she was willing to get in Iris’s car and go anywhere. Including to Maryland to find a thunderstorm.

“You must be looking to add some chaos and recklessness to your life. Every woman who gets in my car is looking for that, or they wouldn’t get in the car.”

“How many women have gotten in your car like that?” Caitlyn asked, somewhat taken aback.

“Oh, only three.” Iris wove in and out of a wolfpack of cars. “Four, now, counting you. I don’t exactly run around luring all the women in with my siren song.” She laughed. “How about you, any ex-girlfriends? Or boyfriends, I don’t judge.”

“One boyfriend when I was fifteen, back before I knew I was a lesbian. One girlfriend. We were together for ten years.”

“Oh no! What happened?”

Caitlyn shrugged. “She thought I was boring. And not very good in bed. She wasn’t rude enough to say it in those words, but I can read between the lines.” Strange; Caitlyn hadn’t told anyone else that, and would normally have thought it oversharing. She wasn’t entirely sure why she was telling Iris, now. It didn’t seem like a great idea to warn a woman you were interested in that your last girlfriend thought you were boring in bed.

“Well, my philosophy is, if your girlfriend is bad in bed, it’s usually because you’re a lousy communicator and you never told her what you wanted, or else you’re a picky picky princess and you have a very narrow range of tolerance for what you like. At least, if she’s a cool human being in the first place, which you seem like you probably are.”

“No, it – she was wilder than me, and she wanted more than I could give.”

“Then it just sounds like you were incompatible,” Iris declared.

She glanced down at her tablet. “Huh. It’s changing course. We’re going to take the highway all the way down, Caity, be faster that way. I think we’ll be able to intersect it at Delaware House.”

“At where?”

“It’s a rest stop on I-95 near the Maryland border. I’m gonna need somewhere to pull over and it’s not a great idea to do that on the highway itself if you have any choice in the matter.”

“What’re you going to do when you catch it?” Caitlyn asked.

“I’m gonna punch it in the nose!” Iris laughed.

Caitlyn chuckled. “Okay, but seriously. You take pictures of them? Do you send them to NOAA or something? What do you do when you catch the storm you’re chasing?”

“You’ll see!”

***

An hour later and they were inside the storm, according to Iris’ tablet, which was set to a live feed of satellite imaging from weather.com or someplace. They’d just crossed the Delaware Memorial Bridge, and it was raining hard. The tablet said it was eleven minutes to Delaware House, but that was probably assuming normal highway speed, and despite the rain, Iris was still driving at least 75 miles an hour.

“So you wanna get some food or something after we’re done here? Delaware House has a Popeye’s, we could get fried chicken.”

“Sure, why not.” Caitlyn had spent the past hour talking about herself, which was weird, because usually she was quiet and would hang back in any conversation, and she usually preferred to listen rather than talk. And you’d think Iris’ boisterousness would make it so she’d always be the one talking, but in fact she’d said almost nothing about herself. She’d talked a lot, but mostly questions for Caitlyn, who’d found herself as a result telling Iris her entire life story. “Maybe you can tell me some things about yourself. I feel like I’ve been talking and talking. You must be sick of hearing my voice.”

“I would never get sick of that voice, Caity. You have a lovely voice.”

“Most people don’t think so. They think I’m quiet and monotonous. Or, sometimes, loud and monotonous.”

“Some people have no grasp of subtlety,” Iris said. “Oh, good, the timing’s perfect. Looks like the center of the storm’s going to be passing over here in minutes. If I speed up just a little, we should get to Delaware House in time.”

“Why is the center of the storm so important? Does it look any different than the rest of the storm?”

“Not to most people,” Iris said cryptically, and leaned forward like a race car driver, her foot presumably turning into a block of lead from how the car sped up.

“Uh, aren’t you worried about hydroplaning?” Caitlyn yelled over the sound of the engine revving as they accelerated.

“Water knows better than to do that to me!” Iris yelled back, grinning.

“No, but seriously--!”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got the car under control!”

Caitlyn held onto the handle above the car door, awkwardly – it really wasn’t positioned well to be a safety handle – as Iris raced through the storm, only slowing down when she reached Delaware House. She coasted onto the left-side exit and allowed momentum to carry her to the parking lot, only braking once she was there.

As she pulled into a parking spot in the back, she said, “I don’t know if you wanna stay in the car or come out with me, but you can do whatever you like. I gotta get a move on, though, the storm center’s almost here.”

“I’ll stay in the car for now,” Caitlyn said, wondering if all of this was a terrible mistake. Maybe Iris was right and she was looking to add some recklessness and chaos to her life, but maybe this was too much.

“Okay.” Iris got out of the car, and looked up at the sky. The rain was coming down in sheets so thick, it was hard for Caitlyn to actually see her through it – she was a blob of color, not a clear human shape. But she heard Iris’ voice with surprising clarity.

“OKAY, MOTHERFUCKER! IT’S ON, NOW!”

What.

“COME ON, YOU LITTLE PISS TRICKLE! YOU CALL THIS RAIN, MY MOMMA DUMPED MORE WATER DOWN MY THROAT WHEN SHE GAVE ME A SIPPY CUP TO DRINK FROM! GET OVER HERE, YOU COWARD, AND FACE ME!”

The wind moaned, making the car creak.

“YEAH? YOU WANNA SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU DUMB SHIT? COME ON! LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!”

And then, as Caitlyn stared in absolute shock, Iris punched the sky… and the sky reeled, the clouds parting for a bare moment, before thunder rolled and lightning slammed down, hitting a nearby tree.

“YOUR AIM’S WORSE THAN A BLIND GRANDMA THROWING A DISHRAG! THINK YOU CAN HIT ME? COME AT ME, FUCKER!” Iris punched the clouds again – impossibly, because they were however many thousands of feet in the air and she was here on the ground, but the clouds roiled as if they’d been struck. Then she went to the ground, rolling, and came up to a sitting position next to an oversized pickup truck. Lightning struck the truck, and Iris sprang up and swung her fists at the sky again, her body language suggesting that she was putting all of her body’s force into the punches, and meeting resistance. One, two, three punches, and a gap opened in the clouds and stayed that way. Lightning came down again and hit a tree in the picnic area.

“OH, YEAH! GOTCHA ON THE ROPES NOW! GIVE IT UP, YOU SUMBITCH, IT’S ALL OVER FOR YOU!”

She swung her left arm out in a blocking gesture. A moment later, lightning struck inches away from the arm. Iris followed up with multiple punches, clearing more of the sky. The rain had significantly diminished, making it much easier to see what she was doing. “GET OUT OF MY GODDAMN SKY, MOFO! DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO BE HERE? WELL, DID I, DIPSHIT?” More punches, more clear sky. Another lightning strike, and an increase in the wind, blowing hard enough that the car actually rocked in it. And then Iris swung her arm out against the wind, and it dissipated. “THAT’S RIGHT, YOU LITTLE SHIT CREEK, WHO’S YOUR MAMA? WHO’S YOUR MAMA? I’M THE GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING RAINBOW, KIDDO, NOW GET BACK TO YOUR FUCKING PLAYPEN AND DRINK YOUR BABA!”

There was, in fact, a rainbow glittering in the sky, as the storm turned to mist.

Iris pulled the car door open. She was completely drenched. “Well, I kicked that thing’s ass,” she reported gleefully. “You up for fried chicken?”

“How – how did you –”

“Hon. You are the Greek mythology expert. How do you think? I said I was the goddamn rainbow, and I know you heard me, right?” She grinned widely.

“Iris was the goddess of the rainbow, and messenger of the gods,” Caitlyn said, mechanically, “but there was nothing in mythology about her fighting storms.”

“That’s because the Greeks were a bunch of patriarchal assholes. They saw Zeus throw some lightning bolts around one time and decided he was the god of storms. Never thought about the fact that rainbows come out after a storm’s over, did they?” She took a step back from the car and shook herself, like a dog, sending raindrops flying everywhere. “So. Do I drive you home now or do we go get fried chicken?”

Caitlyn took a deep breath. “Fried chicken. I have so many questions.”

“And I’ve got so many answers, so this will work out great!”

The storm had turned into nothing but a misty drizzle. Caitlyn got out of the car and followed Iris toward the glassed-in building that was Delaware House.

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

While this is far from the only story idea of mine inspired by it, I definitely do have to credit “Fear for the Storm” by Jessica Best, from the podcast series “Starship Iris”, for inspiring this story. Also the Holly Near song “How Bold”, but with a happier outcome.

[imma-fucking-nerd]

Now It’s She Who Calls the Sea

Part 2 to Into the Arms of the Sea

((I got this amazing idea thanks to the LOVELY BRILLIANT brain of @the-ineffable-prince-of-hells ))

Trigger Warning: Violent Imagery, Mentions of Blood, Suicide 

((didn’t think I’d need a trigger warning but then I wrote it-)) 

It had been a few weeks since you heard the beautiful sound of his voice from the safety of your home. A few weeks since the siren had lured you from the land and into the cold embrace if the sea. A few weeks since Beetlejuice had kissed your lips and damned your soul forever. A few weeks since you woke up to the sight of him, as he fed on your lifeless corpse. A few weeks, that felt like an eternity.

At first, you didn't understand what had happened. One moment you were being held close in a tender embrace under the frigid water. The next, you had opened your eyes to see that the owner of the voice you had grown to fall in love with, was dragging your body further under the water. To then, start ripping your flesh apart. Your own blood spreading and flowing around you. You didn't understand what was happening. Was this a dream? It had to be a dream. You were still underwater but you didn't need to breath. 'It was just a dream', you told yourself. But after a few hours the sun rose, and the horrible truth set it. This was no dream. You were dead. Buried in the ocean floor, and the stomach of the siren.

In the past weeks you had gone through the five stages of grief, well all except two. Anger and acceptance. Usually anger was one of the earliest stages, but you skipped right over it. You weren't much of an angry person, until now that is. Anger was what fueled you, and what kept you trapped beneath the water's surface. It was the only thing keeping you from moving on. At least, that’s what you thought.

In the early days after your unfortunate death, you had done nothing but lay on the sandy ocean floor and stare up at the waters surface. Your skin had a blue tint to it now, and your hair was forever flowing elegantly through the water. One night, you had heard a familiar and once beautiful voice that now haunted you. That was what triggered your rage. You weren't just mad that he had killed you, you were also mad that his voice still held control over your heart. As you heard his voice, you sang along and followed the sound.

When Beetlejuice first heard the echo of your voice, he thought he had imagined it. The dead couldn't sing. But again he tried to sing his song, only to hear your voice. It was hauntingly beautiful and eerie. Again, he just thought it was his imagination. Maybe it was his guilt? He had to admit that when you came to him so willingly it had taken him aback slightly. Usually it took more persuasion for him to get them into the water. But you, you just....jumped in. No hesitation. In fact, you were eager. Why would you do that? Did his song touch you that deeply? Were you that lonely? He shook his head. He was probably just stronger than he thought he was. Yeah, that had to be it. 

Now he was no longer in the mood to go hunting anymore so he made is way back to his cave. You watched him and followed a couple of feet behind. You knew you were a ghost, but you weren’t sure if he could see the dead or not so you kept your distance to be safe. Although, it wasn’t necessarily like he could kill you again. You furrowed your eyebrows, your anger starting to take over, and you started closing the distance. You wanted to make him pay. You wanted to make him suffer. You wanted to hurt him like he had hurt you. You wanted to make him feel loved, and found, before ripping it all away. You were never this malicious when you you alive, you couldn’t even stand up for yourself. But you weren’t alive anymore. 

Beetlejuice had reached his cave, which was littered with many trinkets and other things that must have fallen from the land. Or the things he looted from his victims. He perched himself of his rock and stretched, sprawling across the rock. Just as he was starting to get comfortable, he heard it. Your voice. It was soft, and faint. He froze for a second before shaking his head, cursing himself for almost giving into his delusions. He curled up onto his rock and tried to go to sleep, but heard it again. This time it was closer, it mimicked his signature song and sounded like it had when he was luring her. He shot up and looked around, of course he couldn’t see anything. He swallowed hard as he failed to convince himself that it was just his imagination, his hair becoming streaked with yellow. The next time he heard it he nearly jumped out of his skin and all the color drained from his face. It came from inside of his cave. 

“Uhh, hello....?” he spoke out, a little more timidly than he would’ve liked.

He knew that ghosts existed. Of course they did, after all if a creature like him existed then surely other supernatural entities existed too. This was in part why he tried to kill his prey with them feeling the least fear possible. He really didn’t like the idea of being haunted. Also, he wasn’t into the taste of fear. He thought that you were happy when you died. No, he didn’t think you were happy, he knew it. You were smiling and leaning into his kiss and everything. So why were you here? You should have been on your way to the other side, or wherever ghosts went. Maybe....maybe he went overboard and you were too attached to him to move on? The thought of that made him feel a certain way. He was snapped out of his thoughts when your voice echoed right beside him. He jumped and nearly fell off his rock. 

You watched him as he desperately tried to find the source of your voice. You walked circles around him, taking in his appearance. The fact that he was handsome made you feel a mixture of anger and sadness. It made your stupid, stupid heart feel things that you didn’t want to feel. He didn’t care about you. He lured you in and killed you for nothing but a meal. That’s all you were. You hated the fact that you felt like you could have meant something, anything. Softly, you sang his song and his head snapped towards your direction, but he saw right through you. 

Beetlejuice didn’t know what to do. The more he heard her voice the more the guilt built up. His hair was streaked with yellow and purple. He had never felt like this after killing someone. It was just part of his nature to do. But this time was different, you were different. Not only because you were the first victim to be haunting him, but the fact that you were the first to be so willing to join him in the waters made him feel bad. He knew the only reason that was the case was because you must have been overwhelmingly alone. He knew all too well how that felt. 

It had been weeks since you first came to him. You never left his side, and whenever he would sing, you would echo his call. Beetlejuice tried so, so hard to ignore you. To ignore the guilt of killing a poor girl who was as lonely as he was. It didn’t help that your voice was enchanting, as if you were a siren yourself. He had given up on trying to hunt for human flesh. He just couldn’t bear to hear your voice as he tried to lure in his prey anymore. Once it had gotten to that point, you starting singing without him. Like you did when you first followed him to his home. Now, he couldn’t even sleep without hearing your voice echoing through is cave. No matter how hard he tried to block out the sound, it was useless. 

One day, he finally had enough. Enough of hearing your damn voice. Enough of being reminded of how much of a monster he was. Enough of living. If you could even call his state of being ‘living’ anyways. The words of his mother echoed in his mind. ‘You’re pathetic.’ ‘You’re an embarrassment to sirens everywhere.’  ‘I wish you were never born.’ She was right, he really was a pathetic waste of space, wasn’t he? His hands went up to his black and dark blue hair and pulled on it as tears formed in his eyes. A low growl came from his throat and he picked up the nearest object, throwing it across the cave with all his might. Whatever it was, it shattered on impact with the stone. He continued to destroy everything in his path. Then suddenly, he heard the sound of metal hitting the ground of the cave. He froze and looked over, there lying on the ground was a dagger he had stolen from some prince. 

You watched as he had his mental breakdown. A pang of guilt hit you, but you weren’t going to back down now. ‘He deserves this.’ you told yourself. You knew you were driving him insane, and you were ready for the final push. You managed to pull together enough energy to knock down the dagger. It was the only real deadly thing you saw among the mess that was the cave. At least, the least dramatic of weapons. All he had to do was take the sign. 

Beetlejuice slowly approached the dagger and picked it up. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he turned over the blade on his hands. You were standing right in front of him. You saw the pain in his eyes and it reminded you of yourself. Of all the nights that you spent crying yourself to sleep. Of all the times you felt like you wanted to end it all. You swallowed thickly and your hands balled up into fists. You were having second thoughts, but it was far too late to back out of the plan now. The damage had already been done, and you didn’t think you had enough energy to snatch the dagger away. All you could do was watch and think, ‘Is this really what I want?’ ‘This doesn’t make me feel better.’ ‘Oh god. what have I done?’ ‘I’m so sorry.’ All the anger that had once controlled your actions was gone, being replaced by guilt. At least he had a reason for killing you. But what did you gain from this? It was a petty revenge scheme that drove you to make someone feel the way you swore you’d never want anyone else to feel. 

Beetlejuice moved to sit on his rock, and you sat next to him. This was your fault, so you had to see it through. No matter how much you wish you could stop it. He twisted the dagger in his hands and stared at it intently, a tear falling onto the blade. He inhaled sharply and held up the dagger, aiming it right towards his heart. His hands, no, his whole body was trembling. You reached up and put a hand on his shoulder, even if you knew he couldn’t feel it. He dropped his arms and stared sobbing loudly, his grip on the dagger tightening. Then, you did the only thing you could think of, you sang. Your voice was soft and slow, like a lullaby. Beetlejuice froze when he heard it, he didn’t move for a long while before he took a deep breath. He lifted up the dagger to his heart once more and in one swift motion, with all the strength he had left, he plunged the dagger into his heart. You winced at the strangled gasp he made as the blade went deep, but you forced yourself to watch with tears rolling down your cheeks. In a matter of seconds his body slumped over and fell to the ground, his blood pooled around his body. ‘At least it was quick.’ You thought to yourself. 

You don’t know how long you sat there, watching over his corpse. You didn’t know how long it took the soul to leave the body. Did sirens even have souls? Did they even become ghost when killed? You didn’t know which answer would be worse. It felt like ages, but finally you heard a soft gasp. You looked up and saw him standing above his own corpse.

“It’s you....” He spoke, his voice barely a whisper. 

You stood up and looked him with glossy guilt filled eyes, and he looked at you with the same. 

“I’m sorry,” you both said in unison. 

Although you both had more than enough reason to hate each other, you didn’t. You understood why he had killed you, and he understood why you wanted revenge. Instead of spending all of eternity despising each other, you both decided to cure each other’s loneliness. That being said, it would still take a lot of time and effort to completely forgive each other. But the two of you had all the time in the world now. 

——————————————————————

Tag List: @meangirlsx @im-eating-rn @lord-satan-3244 @causeifeelblue @beebleboosebaby

[achilleasfury]

Loreley {Creepypasta}

triggerwarning: sex, death, drowning, a state like being drugged

this creepypasta is inspired by a myth about a siren/mermaid/water girl named Lorelei, just like a river(or so) somewhere in germany

Many met for the first time at parties, then took the other one home, usually for a one-night stand.

Many never saw each other again after that.

Many also survived their one-night stand.

I always thought I was part of the many.

And I was.

Until I met her.

She had looked beautiful in the flickering light.

Maybe it was the alcohol.

I had drunk a few glasses.

What it was exactly, I don't know anymore.

It had been too long.

She had approached me at the bar of the club.

She had asked me if we wanted to dance.

I had agreed.

I had been fascinated.

By her black hair.

Black as night.

When the light fell on it, it had a dark green sheen.

Her eyes.

God, her eyes.

They had been so damn green.

Green as leaves in spring.

Green as poison.

She had imagined herself as Loreley.

Then she pulled me onto the dance floor.

God, the way she moved.

How her hip had felt against mine.

We had danced to some songs.

She had always sung along quietly.

God, her voice was wonderful.

Then she had looked deep into my eyes.

God, her smile.

She had looked like the devil in the shape of an angel.

I could have taken her on the floor right here and now.

But she had leaned forward.

She had whispered something into my ear.

"Let's go to your place and pass some time."

So we went to my place.

Shortly after I closed my apartment door, I was pressed against a wall.

I hadn't asked what she was.

But that was superfluous now.

Now I had known.

God, how dominant she had been.

I had loved it.

I can't remember the next few moments very well.

Everything is blurred.

I remember the wild sex in my bed.

I remember her nails leaving deep scratches on my back.

I remember her lips.

God, her lips.

They were everywhere.

Everywhere on my body.

The night had been horny.

Beautiful.

We had made out for what felt like hours.

Then she'd gotten up, challenged me to take a shower together.

God, I wish I hadn't been so horny for her.

I only had one bathtub, that's what I said.

She said it was no problem.

So we took a bath.

She washed my hair.

She lathered it.

It felt like a massage.

Then she stood up, grabbed my head, and pulled me up by it.

With one quick movement, she slammed my head against the wall. Over and over again.

After maybe five times she let go of the wall.

With almost inhuman strength she hurled my head on the edge of the tub.

The back of my head burst open.

Not as much as my brain would have come out.

She just let me fall.

My head hit the bathroom floor.

I could feel my blood on my temple.

Then came the black.

An endless black.

I couldn't see anything anymore.

Only hear and feel.

She kissed me again.

God, that was no longer a kiss.

She sucked me through my lips, my mouth.

My life.

My soul.

And filled the void with water.

It was everywhere.

In and on me.

Why am I even telling this story?

I can't do anything anymore.

I can see it again.

But I can say nothing.

I see everything through her eyes.

God.

I'll never trust anybody named like a siren again.

Loreley.

The stunningly beautiful siren.

Hunting for men's souls.

Men's lives.

Like in all the myths.

She is a myth.

But she is also real.

In every legend, there is a spark of truth.

Its existence is its truth.

[larryfanfiction]

Fairy! AU

🍃 May We Stay Lost On Our Way Home by LoadedGunn (74k)

Harry thought he had a handle on things. He hasn’t gotten papped in over a month, even the most zealous of fans have given up on finding his location, the Fortress is starting to look hospitable, and Niall just learned how to make shrimp bisque. Even having a massive crush on a gorgeous mythical woodland creature was working out for him.

Most of the time.

On March 31st, Harry Styles disappears. Though many speculate, only two people know where to find him: Niall, his former guitarist, and Zayn, who follows where Niall leads.

The fact the biggest boy band in the world broke up two weeks earlier might be related to the disappearance. The fact Harry meets a fairy named Louis in the woods is a whole other matter.

(Liam is a centaur.)

🍃 hold on to your stars before they fade by adelagia (31k)

The first time they meet, it is sunrise, and Harry is naked.

(Or, the one where Harry is a lost fairy, and Louis takes him in.)

🍃 got me losing every breath (i’m latching onto you) by kissingiscool (14k)

It’s a blur to him, chasing Louis down from point A to point B, through a maze of pathways and a chorus of short giggles, chromaticity of canary and fern as dirt sticks to the soles of his running feet, and he feels alive, more alive than he’s ever felt in all of the twenty-five years of his life. More alive from the time he first when skiing. More alive than from when he had his first kiss. Just looking at Louis gave him a new definition of alive. He doesn’t know how long he’s been chasing, but the pounding of his heart and huff and puff of each breath that’s punched out of his lungs is so addicting that he doesn’t ever want to stop chasing him.

(or an au where louis is a fairy with a fear of thunderstorms and a talent of knitting and harry is a vet with three cats and a lot of love.)

🍃 Black with Autumn Rain by whimsicule (93k)

“Thank you,” Geoff says, taking a sip of his tea. “What did you tell him?”

Louis has a sip as well, lets the tea burn down his throat too quickly, too hot, and he feels it all the way down to his stomach. “The truth. Essentially,” he replies after a moment, licking his lips, relishing the slightly bitter taste of the brew that’s never quite strong enough for Louis’ liking. At least it’s not decaf. “That my dog scented it. That I didn’t touch the body. That I came here first thing.”

Geoff nods pensively. “Did he believe you?”

“Probably not. There’s only so many people who can drown on dry land before it gets fishy.”

or: Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren’t exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

🍃 Away With The Fairies by Snowy38 (22k)

Harry liked pretty things.

Mostly the ornate flowers that grew around him, the trees majestically climbing towards the sky, sometimes the little colourful birds that flitted around in the branches of those trees.

Harry’s wings themselves were considered beautiful, big butterfly-like shaped things glistening pink in the light but white underneath, almost translucent.

He fluttered them behind him, feeling the breeze brushing off them. He was high up where he could see the most, studiously watching the human life on the ground below.

He shouldn’t be here of course, he was beyond the borders of the part of the forest where his kind lived, but he couldn’t help it.

Because Harry had found the prettiest thing of all.

🍃 Collision by itjustkindahappened (207k)

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

🍃 I Won’t Treat You Like You’re Typical by moutonrose (5k)

Louis is a pixie and Harry is an elf. They meet at X-Factor auditions and fall in love.

🍃 Boiling Blood Will Circulate by whoknows (42k)

The wait isn’t long before something starts rustling in the bushes. Harry takes aim, squeezes the trigger, body moving unconsciously. They’re motions he’s done a thousand times before, and his body knows how to do it without the input of his brain now. It’s what makes him such a good shot.

He misses. The shot misses.

Something howls in the woods, a pretty clear indication that Harry hit it, but there’s no telltale sounds of a big body dropping, no animal charging out at him to take him out before he can finish the job.

Something does turn and run, though. “Fuck,” Harry spits out, scrambling to his feet and slinging the rifle back over his shoulder, giving chase. He’s not going to lose this hunt.

The trail of blood goes on longer than Harry thought it would. He doesn’t know how long he runs for, but his muscles are burning, chest heaving with exertion, until the trail just - goes dead. No more blood, just like that.

“Fuck,” Harry says.

🍃 Gently As She Goes by graceling_in_a_suit (33k)

Louis had been Harry’s best friend for as long as she could remember. She was a shoulder to cry on, a head of hair to practice braiding on, a mind as mischievous as Harry’s to scheme up antics and pranks with, someone to fall asleep next to when the nights were cold or when they both got lonely. Someone to dance with, to learn with, to laugh with.

They were girls together.

Then Louis left.

A modern fairytale (literally!) featuring a quest to bring a lost girl home, celtic goddesses, braiding, friendship, true love, and magic.

🍃 Delight in Masques by kassio (27k)

Popstar Louis Tomlinson has been pulling one over on the mortals for years. In the five years since he put on a human illusion and tried out for the X Factor, none of them have realised that he’s one of the Fair Folk – a cat shapeshifter, to be precise – and he’d like to keep it that way.

When he returns to the X Factor as a guest judge, the last thing he expects is for some half-Siren fool to use magic on the judges. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what Harry Styles does. Now Louis has to track down some rogue changeling before he exposes them all. Even worse? Apparently, Harry doesn’t even know what he is.

(An urban fantasy adventure, set in the world of - but not crossing over with - the October Daye book series. No need to be familiar with those books; I just want to give credit where it’s due on a lot of the worldbuilding.)

🍃 The Prince Of Light by jacaranda_bloom (35k)

Louis was found abandoned at a hospital at six months old and adopted by an older couple who raised him. Now twenty, he studies by night and by day works as a live-in au pair for a family with three little girls. One of the girls, Holly, swears there is a Garden Fairy coming and eating treats she leaves out in the cubby house each night.

When the family goes away for a two week holiday, Louis is secretly tasked with feeding the Fairy. While laying out the food one night he falls from the cubby house and is found by Harry. Harry is different and Louis is fascinated. But as Louis learns how different Harry really is, he discovers his own true home and a very surprising past he never knew.

Cue badgers, bananas and cookies, soulmates, a whole other world, and a future he’d never imagined.

🍃 The Fairy Ring by thedeathchamber (46k)

Harry has dreamed of a world outside the tiny village of Holmes Chapel for as long as he can remember… a world full of magic and adventure and true love. It was nothing but a childhood dream, however, until an old family friend comes bearing word of a plot against Harry’s life and a very dangerous truth: Harry is the rightful heir to the crown and must embark on a perilous quest to reclaim his throne from the ruthless would-be King Simon. But in the end Harry will find himself fighting for more than a crown, and on the verge of losing something much more precious than his sovereign power. Because magic might be real, but life is not a fairy tale, and Harry is a prince up against a very big dragon.

Or: a medieval fantasy AU in which Harry is a prince in disguise and Louis is the king of the faeries.

More Masterposts

[anonfanfic]

“Please, make it stop.” - Villaneve prompt

Villanelle walked into the dark hallway. It was like any other mission, find the target and eliminate them. It was a little different since she joined the good guys, well what Villanelle thought of as the good guys. She couldn’t be as creative as she wanted to be with her kills. It was annoying, but seeing Eve most days made up for it.

Carolyn had warned her the man she was after knew he was wanted and had become unstable. He had been on the run for months and killed the raid police that had cornered him in London. He was smart and knew exactly what he needed to do to evade capture. Villanelle had no desire to capture the man.

Villanelle felt the switchblade in the hem of her black leather pants. She wanted to make this kill up close and personal. No one escaped once Villanelle found them. She could only hope he’d put up a fight to keep it a little interesting.

Villanelle heard soft music coming from the closed door on the far right. She felt her heart rate pick up and the beautiful adrenaline start to flow freely through her body. She was alive again.

The music got louder the further she moved down the hall. The door was open just enough for Villanelle to see a sliver of light.

She opened the door slowly, grabbing the knife from her waistband and smiling. The look of shock on the targets face was one of her favorite parts.

Villanelle stood in the doorframe and as she took in the sight before her she felt her blood run cold in her veins.

“No,” She whispered, the knife gripped tightly in her left hand.

“You must be the one she was waiting for.” The man stood in the middle of the room with a knife to Eve’s neck. “I hope for her sake you’re better at this than she is.” He smiled and Villanelle could see almost every yellow tooth in his head. She hated him, the feeling burned like a furnace in the pit of her stomach.

“Let her go. I’ll kill you quickly. I promise.” Villanelle knew better than to show her cards. If she let her guard down she was giving this man power. She hated the thought of that.

Villanelle actually hated that she could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she saw the sharp metal blade so close to Eve’s pulse point. She hated that this guy held any power over her.

“What did you do, Eve?” Villanelle asked, pushing open her own knife and looking at Eve.

“I was coming to warn you.” Eve could have been terrified, but Villanelle was impressed how well she was holding her composure. “He knew we were coming. I didn’t..” Eve trailed off and Villanelle cocked her head curiously.

“You didn’t what?” Villanelle proded, erasing the man from her mind. All she wanted to know was what Eve had been thinking following her here.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Eve confessed, the quiet tone of her voice having nothing to do with the weapon pressing into her skin.

Villanelle felt a prickling sensation crawling up her spine. It lingered on the back of her neck and intensified as she looked into Eve’s dark eyes.

“Not to interrupt this sweet moment, but I’m ready to slit her fucking throat.” The man looked confused by the exchange between the two women.

“Let me tell you how this will end.” Villanelle was in her element now and she knew it. Her confidence filled like a balloon in her chest, she was not going to let Eve die here. “You kill her and I make sure they are finding pieces of your body for years.”

Villanelle saw the familiar flicker of fear in the man’s eyes. It excited her to gain more control from him.

“If you let her go I will let you live. You will walk out of this house and go on with whatever shit life you were living. I don’t give a damn.”

He looked like he was considering his options. Villanelle was ready to kill him. She was calculating if she could get to him before he slid the knife completely across Eve’s neck.

“Tell you what. I’m not going to kill her.” He removed the knife from Eve’s neck. “But I am going to slow you down.”

Without another word Villanelle watched him plunge the knife into Eve’s stomach. Eve immediately crumbled to the ground with a should of pain.

“Fuck!” Villanelle yelled, rushing over and grabbing Eve and putting her head on her lap. “You’re okay, you’re fine.”

Villanelle barely registered the man rushing out of the room. She pulled out her phone and told Carolyn to call an ambulance.

Eve was shaking in her arms and Villanelle could barely send the message before dropping her phone onto the carpeted ground beneath them.

“It hurts.” Eve’s eyes were filled with tears as she looked up at Villanelle. “Please, make it stop.”

Villanelle pressed her hand against the wound. The red stain had already spread across Eve’s shirt. Villanelle could see the wound was deep

“It’s fine. You’re fine,” Villanelle kept repeating. “Help is coming and I’m not leaving you.”

“I just-” Eve struggled for breath and Villanelle had push down the instinct to chase the man who had done this to her.

“It’s okay you don’t have to talk.” Villanelle wasn’t sure what fear felt like, but she imagined it was something like this. She couldn’t handle the idea of the light leaving Eve’s eyes right in front of her.

Eve shook her head and took in a shallow and shaky breath. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Villanelle used her free hand to cup Eve’s cheek. “You’re so stupid, Eve. So stupid.” She slowly caressed Eve’s cheek with her thumb.

“I know,” Eve laughed, leaning into Villanelle’s touch.

Villanelle heard the sirens pulling up in front of the flat.

“They’re here. I’ll see you soon” Villanelle stood up and wiped the blood onto her pants.

Eve looked up at Villanelle complete understanding on her face. “Please be careful.”

“He’s going to suffer. I’ll meet you at the hospital.” Villanelle grabbed her knife once again and prepared for the hunt. This guy had no idea what he was in for, Villanelle was ready to show him exactly what happened when you pissed her off.

[machinakrpx]

>> OPEN LEE YANI’S FILE …

:// AGE — 25 :// OCCUPATION — drug runner :// CLASS — elysium native

>> LOADING DEVELOPMENT ...

:// MAGIC —  

on the point of biochemical magic, yani is a newcomer to the science. to the art. it’s a lost talent in so many ways, and one that she had no exposure to as a child. maybe things would have been easier, if she had. but yani has always had books, the promise of the old, of sprawling forests and wild grown gardens. yani has always had a deep, near spiritual connection to the biological, the natural, almost in defiance of her mechanized and austere surroundings. since beginning to work with apollo, she’s become adept at the hydroponic arts as much as the magical, becoming a provider of materials, grown in test tubes and under stark lights, recreating heirloom plant varieties and hunting down long lost seeds, attempting to scientifically and magically recreate the germination process, propogating long lost flora in modified greenhouse boxes, imbuing them with the enchantments that apollo has shared with her.

:// MODIFICATIONS —

moderate reflex enhancement system - wired in under the skin, implanted in her neural network, yani has taken on the physical advantage of an enhanced reflex system, programmed to anticipate danger signs in order to systematically avoid those clients who might attempt to take advantage of her. this was implanted after her time with apollo began, necessary for her to efficiently complete her jobs for him.

microscopic eyes - she has implanted natural appearing visual enhancements that allow her to more accurately pinpoint potential issues with her crops, machinery, and so on. alongside her enhanced reflexes, this allows her the ability to work more successfully and precisely with her hydroponics, in terms of creation and maintenance of both biological and mechanical components.

cranial bomb - in order to ensure her discretion as a runner and apprentice to apollo, she’s had a cranial bomb installed, designed to specifically target the section of her brain storing information relative to the enterprise. should she attempt to start her own business, short apollo in general, or share relevant industry secrets, the bomb will detonate. while she won’t die, she’d be assuredly damaged, lose the relevant secret information, and be incapacitated requiring hospitalization for an indeterminate period.

>> LOADING BIOGRAPHY ...

“i taught you to fight and to fly. what more could there be?”

lee yani is born to elysium like a peter pan is born of neverland. perhaps as soon as she existed, the city welcomed her, open armed, it’s cavernous maw yearning and open, eager to take in one of its own. 

her mother dallied amid late night suitors with full enough pockets, her father a footnote left forgotten. and in time yani too was forgotten, with a pat on the head and the instruction to come back by supper. 

and so the city raised her. slick streets and neon lights her playground, the dull slick of the rain on her cheeks companion to the dreary concrete structures she made her home. hours spent honing clever fingers and making use of childish winsomeness to fill her stomach and her mind. crushed into the back corner of cramped school rooms, overworked teachers that didn’t notice if she was there or not, didn’t notice if she snuck into the classes of older children, if she stole textbooks from the cluttered shelves, dusty and unraveling at the bindings. 

and when she returned one day to find her mother absent, she took this new reality in as much stride as anyone can. it’s a common scenario in the slums of a slum, after all. people go missing. and when she appeared there was a spark of enthusiasm and cheer, but there was also a changing that had occured, an acceptance of individuality and independence. a trust that had died. 

and so when her mother did disappear, for good that time, she wasn’t all that surprised. 

“they have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time.”

raised by the city, she thrives in it. it’s not the sort of thriving that comes with full pockets or a full stomach, but she survives. she adapts and overcomes. it’s a band of them in the end, a tangle of lost children who carve out a home for themselves in a dark world, under the glare of the lights. 

but she feels. 

she’s a creature of emotion, from one to the next in record time and impossible intensity, a signal flare in the dying light of a burned out city, a beacon. it brings people to her, it draws them in. they turn a blind eye to her half empty pockets, they keep her just above the edge of destitute. let her take the empty back room of the basement as a makeshift home, and someone leaves a spare space heater for her. it’s broken but she fixes it, discovers a knack for the mechanical. 

a knack for survival. 

she’s a young girl forced to grow up too soon, and there’s a spirit of youth she holds onto. a wild intensity and an innocent selfishness. she eschews the benefits of implantations and augmentations, at first for the sake of finances and later for some misplaced integrity. retains a strange purity of body that leaves a rosy flush to her cheeks and a lingering youthfulness to her expression, some gleaming promise of what innocence and beauty might once have been. like a rose in a case, a relic of a lost time. 

“sometimes, though not often, she had dreams, and they were more painful than the dreams of others.”

she’s a ringleader, though she doesn’t know when it happened or how. there’s something innate to it, a kind of charm that is lost on many and loved by few. but those who respond to it, they pull into her thrall. she steals her way through life, a mix of odd jobs and slight of hand to get where she’s going, to take what she needs. and usually not much more. she’s got a bit of a moral compass- just a little. its an old book that takes her by surprise, a biology textbook, a botany grimoire, one that offers up knowledge of long lost materials, plants and flowers and herbs that she’s never been able to imagined, more than she can fathom. she becomes obsessed, reclusive, fascinated with the promise of greenery, lushness, the garden of eden calling out to her in siren song. she devours information, collects samples, and they wither under her hands, left unable to master something with one piece of the puzzle missing. 

that’s when she finds him, apollo, and his concoctions. whispers of a magic that calls out to her, sings it’s song siren to some secret part of her soul that is yet unexplored. she hears of it and it sounds right. it feels right. she gets her hands on a potion and when it hits the tip of her tongue she knows. 

she just knows. 

the formula plays itself out in her mind, a catalogue of herbs and adjustments, a latticework of molecules and modifications that she only partly comprehends. it rattles around in her head, a buzz of information on overload. and like a child she is obsessed, fascinated, begins to try to piece it together, attempts to recreate the drug on her own time, her own turf. it’s a herculean task for a girl without resources or training, and as she goes about stealing and purchasing and chasing down ingredients, she draws attention to herself, at first unwanted. 

when she’s hauled into apollo’s backroom, she wakes strapped to a chair with an unfamiliar face sneering down at her. the whirr of a mechanical arm rearing back for a slap is the first precursor to the pain that erupts next, has her spitting a mouthful of blood to the floor. 

they want to know what she knows and they want to know who told her. 

and in the end, it takes hours before they acknowledge that, perhaps, she’s telling the truth. that the knowledge came from within. this is what earns her an audience with the sun himself. 

“ you can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it.”

its as good as medicine, as bright as the sun. salvation in a bottle. she salivates for want of knowing, and when he offers her apprenticeship with strings she leaps first and doesn’t look back. 

its not until she’s on the table that she thinks she might have made a mistake. she’s strapped down to cold metal and pinned beneath instrumentation. they craft her to the task, lay implantations in her eyes and a wiring through her nerves, snaking along the lines of her bones and in the fibers of her muscles. 

they offer her the chance for cosmetic upgrades- wild hair or holographic tattoos, multicolored eyes or jeweled implantations, but she denies. 

and as she learns those secrets, as she trains in endless hours of bent heads and hyperfocus, she is reminded of that excruciating trade she has made. of how they’ve opened her skull, fingering the line of a scar that runs beneath short shorn hair, growing back slow where it was shaved for surgery. a failsafe,  a modern non-compete clause, a cyanide pill hidden in her teeth to keep her silent, remote detonated and programmed, hopefully, not to kill. but it’s an illegal technology and as always, your mileage may vary. 

but she trades in secrets and magic now, and such a failsafe is to be expected, insurance of her trustworthiness in this wholly untrustworthy world. 

“and thus it will go on, so long as children are innocent and heartless.”

what does it mean to be too much? to feel too much, to love too much, to hate too much. she is a creature of absolutes, she is all or nothing, she is all and all and all and all. erratic and wild, like hebe she is a force of life, she is a wild thing that breathes youth into those around her. feeds ambrosia to the miserable and uplifts the fallen, a creature of excess and of gladdening, cupbearer to the broken. and, oh, there are many. she has too much heart for elysium, for a girl born into its clutches, too much want and too many dreams for a world long barren of hope or promise. anachronistic and native to the landscape of elysium, she is an impossible creature of contradiction. she is as much beholden to the hedonism of elysium as she is the desire for the purity of long past times, at odds fascinated and enamored with the progress of neo seoul and disgusted with the opulence and austerity of olympus. she dreams of impossible things, lush gardens and the promises of eden, and lives eternally unsatisfied, selfishly chasing after her own longings.