#cold briny depths

[bam-monsterhospital]

camera pics of newfoundland from beach-day! (many taken from the vehicle)

the shorelines around Gros Morne, framed by the distant -almost surreal- Tabletop Mountains, are some of my favourite places in the entire world.

[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin�� well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[heavenbloom]

🇵🇸🇱🇧 BEFORE YOU READ: DONATE TO PALESTINIAN FAMILIES • EMERGENCY FUND FOR MARGINALISED WORKERS IN LEBANON • BOYCOTT TLOU

𓊝 — 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚 | 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐫!𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐱 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

song: golden hair — slowdive

summary: the ocean is a trepidatious force. abby has never felt its power until she falls into the hands of a siren, a dark and ruinous mistress of the sea.

warnings: mdni 18+, smut, fingering (r!receiving), hair pulling (a!receiving), mentions of death, mentions of religion, profanities, afab reader, reader is a mythical creature and comes off as cold and detached from humanity, set in an unspecified time in the past, a bit of hatred between the two, toxic dynamics, abby is down bad, not proofread

a/n: this is a semi rewrite of a fic i posted on my old blog last year! i don’t have time to write new things at the moment so please accept this even though it’s not my best 🧍

The ground beneath Abby was rough, cold in a way that immediately told her that she was not in the stuffy warmth of the sailor's quarters. Her eyes were screwed shut, her head blaring for relief and her body soaked to the bone. She was not where she was meant to be.

She took a moment, a breath, to regain her bearings, eyes opening to slits. A void met her, nothing visible in the pitch black.

She let no panic inflate her chest or scratch at her already dry throat. To survive the sea for so long was a miracle, and those who rode its waves knew that being fearful was useless, since besting such a beast was impossible. The sea chose her victims indiscriminately, and it seemed that Abby was not one of them. Not in this moment, at least.

She instead shifted focus to her other senses to understand where she was. She reached her arms out on either side, feeling the jaggedness of the moist ground. Her ears picked up a consistent drip, drip, drip and the sound of distant crashing water. The briny taste of the ocean was still sharp on her tongue... she was still near the sea. Good.

As she laid there, her brain strayed to the events leading up to her predicament. She was unaware of how she got here, but she recalled the crashing of the hull against wrathful waves, her fellow sailors staggering back and forth on deck as salty tendrils whipped the ship about. There was frenzy as the crew’s prayers to gods and pantheons from all over filled the air, to either rescue them or welcome them into the afterlife with open arms.

Abby had stayed silent, jaw clenched. There was no deity that she believed in, no soothing prayer that could save her from a sinking, air-absent demise. All that encompassed her mind was, it is fitting that I die here. A frothy headstone to mark her vast grave, a silence settling into her bones.

She remembered her acceptance being cut short by a stillness that came about so suddenly, a golden haze. Then, the first gentle notes of a beautiful hymn...

It was something otherworldly, she was aware of that much. But why did the recollection of it elude her?

As she tried to remember the notes of it, she stilled at a gentle tone caressing her ears. The same song.

Abby's eyes shot open at the intrusion of noise, blue eyes boring into nothingness. It was lilting and lullaby-soft, the loveliest voice she had ever heard, perhaps. But its foreign, silky words and the power gently thrumming beneath its cadence made her spine tremble.

There were many cruel, monstrous things beneath the sea's depths, but there was only one described as so beautiful. Sweet death, they nicknamed the thing. There were only ever stories about them though, for they were as good as legend. Nobody had ever lived to tell the tale of the real thing, these stories made clear. Their victims' long-forgotten bones rested on sandy ocean beds, now used to pick the teeth of these fearsome creatures.

The fear that she had such good grasp on began to bleed into the corners of her passiveness, an inkling of dread. A shipwreck she could handle. A shipwreck caused by one of the most indomitable predators of the seven seas was another thing entirely.

"Sea witch," Abby hissed through gritted teeth, voice pained and hazy. Concentration was a task when all she wanted to do was melt into the gentle arms of your song. But she was no man, no simple sailor. It would take a lot more than this to subdue her.

You stopped singing, only to laugh at her in the near-off distance, still shrouded by darkness. It rang through the space like the distant sound of church bells in a steeple.

"I am no witch, mortal," you spoke perfectly, to her surprise. It was a voice dripping with strength, lightning crackling along the surface of a still lake. “You are all the same. We use your own desires against you and you claim it to be magic… pitiful.”

Abby did not want to care about the implications of your words. You knew nothing about her or her desires. How could one ever want this?

There was a bite to her voice now. "I am uninterested in your games, siren." Even so…

Against all her loathing, her breath quickened as she strained to find you in the darkness. She thought that, as a woman, she would be immune to a siren's charms if they ever did prove to be real, but it seemed not to be the case. Your voice alone was a thing swathed in ethereality, and she needed to see what such a being looked like.

There was dead quiet before the space began to fill with a deep blue light, radiating off of where water seeped in. She sat herself up now despite the throbbing ache in her body, mesmerised as the light pulsed throughout what she now realised was an enclosed cave. Beautiful was the first word that floated to her head. Then a scathing, correctional, unnatural.

After a moment of distraction, she searched for you again, but you were nowhere to be seen. Disappointment dropped in her gut like a pin, but it was enough to ignore the prickle of curiosity that slid up her neck and reddened her cheeks.

"I have said it once already. Your games are of no interest to me, sea witch," she yelled into the cold cavern as evenly as she could muster. "Come on then, enjoy your damn feast."

Perhaps it was foolish to mock something immortal. A beat of silence passed, then another. A soft thud hit the jutting ground of the cave, barely audible amongst the sound of lapping water and Abby’s own chattering teeth.

"I do not care much for feasting on women"," you whispered, mere inches behind her. The hairs on her neck stood on end, alert to your presence. “Not many are led astray… and the ones that are? Well…”

She felt that same dizzying urge to gaze upon you. She turned in the direction of your voice, and this time you made no effort to conceal yourself.

Your bare body was adorned in pearlescent scales, shimmering and reflecting the rich light that danced around the cave. Your hair was damp and it stuck your cheeks in wispy swirls. But it was your eyes, gods, your eyes that she lingered on the most. Alluring and deep, they demanded every morsel of her attention.

What most enchanted Abby was the way you looked so human despite everything, the softness of your being comparable to a maiden onshore. Whenever Abby thought of a siren, she imagined jutting scales from spine, sharp teeth that could put a blade to shame, talons built to rip stocky men to shreds, eyes the off-white of drops of sour milk. The only unsettling thing about you were the slits on your neck, like that of a shark.

Her gaze lingered on your captivating person, drawn to it like moth to a flame. She supposed your appearance made more sense now. Beauty would always strike a person dead before terror ever could. As her heart hammered in her chest, she began to wonder whether the two were intertwined.

"Then... then why, pray tell, did you not let me drown?"

Your surprisingly soft hands came to her chin. Fingers traced her strong jawline, drew a line to her collarbone before softly grazing them over one clothed shoulder. She shivered beneath your touch but did not dare to move away, did not want to. Your hands were the coldness of the deep undersea, as if they had never witnessed the sun before. She wanted to grab them, breathe warmth and life into your inhuman palms… had the sea water left her brain addled?

Your eyes flicked from her arm, where the linen of her undershirt clung to a muscled bicep, back to blue eyes that appeared black in the deep light.

"You were lured by me. I believed you to be a man. I only had a glimpse of your silhouette before you were in my arms, fighting for air, and then I realised. I suppose you could say... your strength as a woman is one I have not yet witnessed."

You gave her shoulder a gentle, intrigued squeeze.

"That is why I saved you, human. Nothing more and nothing less.”

The shivers that racked her body quieted. You expected her to either shy away or move closer, but she did neither. She remained unmoving, staring at you with an expression that warped back and forth between contempt and desire.

“Will you eat me now that your curiosity has been satisfied? Or will you keep me here as a little pet to ogle at whenever you grow bored?” It was a question with teeth, directed to mock your intentions. Her eyes shone with repulsion but also anticipation as she waited for your answer. Did she want to stay shackled to you until she wasted away or you finally decided on what to do with her? Is that what she wanted?

Such a foolish woman she was to question your motivations, but all that rose within you was a light amusement, like that of an onlooker watching a butterfly flit about in a glass case. You had the upper hand. It was you, after all, who lured her into the raging tides to begin with. And it continued to be you who kept her fate clutched in your grasp, still undecided on whether you should squash or embrace her. You cared for none of the furious emotions that roiled in her little, mortal heart,. But entertainment? That could be found in toying with her, just a little.

You moved closer to her once again, humming softly as your hand met her damp and matted braid. Your fingers found the piece of leather knotted around it and you slid it undone. Your fingers raked through the tangled mass gently, with the sweet slowness of a lover. She could almost believe that were the case when her mind started to fog, if not for the chorus of voices screaming within her through the haze. This is wrong, this is wrong.

Each movement of yours set your body alight. Abby had seen a myriad of the night's constellations, but they did not hold a candle to your ethereality. She felt the reigns she held on her convictions slipping. How could this be immoral when this proximity felt like a thing of fate, a thing meant to be?

Your voice was the purest of sugar, sweet and addictive.

"I believe you," your hands found their way out of her hair and to her chest, palms resting flat, "are the one that has been captivated." Your mouth was close, a finger-span distance away from hers. You could feel the way her body tensed, a sharp intake of breath without the release.

"You hate it, do you not?” you continued, tilting your head. That I am the only thing about the sea that can make you feel vulnerable? Admit it... I frighten you."

The blonde woman did not trust her mouth to form coherent words, not when you smelled so familiar, like salt and windswept sea foam. This wasn’t fear, it was something else, itching just beneath the skin and begging to break through. You were too close.

Damn it all.

There was a hesitance in her movements before her mouth descended upon yours abruptly. There was no rhythm to the way her lips pushed against yours, beastly in an overuse of teeth and tongue. You responded almost instantaneously, your mouth dancing against hers with the perfection centuries of seducing countless others sculpted. There was a dim recognition of this as she pressed herself against you and lowered you to the rough ground. She wanted to be the last one you tasted like this. The last one you harboured any kind of mercy for.

She had not prayed on that ship before the wreck, but as she relished in your lips she knew that she had been a fool to shun the notion of holiness. This was divinity. This body, cold and devoid of life. These lips, experienced and deliciously deceitful and tasting oh-so-familiar.

You were the celestial force in which she never believed. She had no altar to pray at yet, but she would carve one out right here, in the depths of your iridescent body. Her kisses would be her offerings. Her heavy, desperate breaths would be the choir.

She pulled back slightly to gaze at your face. Your eyes, glinting with challenge, compelled her to go further. Your icy arms engulfed her shoulders, pulling the brawn of her body, that pulsing human warmth, closer. You could feel her hummingbird heartbeat against your collarbone, could hear the blood pumping through her system again and again, a song all on its own.

Heat pooled in your core, the feeling almost foreign to you after years of its dormancy. There was something so delectable about letting a being inferior to you in, to taste and touch and fuck something that could eat her alive.

Her brows were knitted together, eyes wide pits of blazing blue lust. She was waiting for it, a silent plea in the drag of her teeth against her plump bottom lip and the phantom feel of her palms over your scaled skin. Who were you to deny such muted acts of devotion?

With a honeyed smile, you took one of her large hands in yours, and rested it against your sternum. Searing heat bloomed through your chest and downwards as you guided her wind-chafed palm. The ribcage, the belly button, the divot where stomach gives way to sensitive flesh.

Her breath hitched, eyes droopy as she rocked back onto her haunches. Your legs were sprawled so prettily, iridescent thighs gleaming in the little light there was. She watched as the hand latched around her wrist led her to your folds. Beneath her fingertips, your cunt felt like unspooled silk. It was impossible to suppress the tremor that passed through her.

“Well?” Your voice penetrated the fervoured veil that threatened to swallow her whole. “Cease your gawking, human.” A command. An invitation.

Abby traced her fingers down your slit gently, then parted them. Her lips opened at the feeling of just how soaked you were, breath coming ragged and cheeks painted red at the dewiness of your cunt.

She slipped one finger in with ease, a sigh floating out of her mouth as her middle finger followed suit. Pure velvet, it was heaven wrapped around them. Her wrist trembled, body temperature reaching a feverish pitch as she pumped and curled them within your snug cunt. She watched as your body arched, that same saccharine voice echoing through the cave in a chorus of loud breaths and rhapsodic moans.

She admired the way your body had become an instrument beneath her touch. It was like plucking a harp string, hearing its divine tune ring out and watching as it wobbles and wavers from the force.

She pressed her weight to you, the way the sea and the earth meet on shorelines. Shallow puffs of air were hot against your cheek as she continued her ministrations, face one deep pool of lust as she lifted you higher, molten pleasure building within your gut so rapidly that all you could do to buoy yourself was pull at the knotted mass of her golden hair.

She pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to your jaw, to the neck that reminded her over and over that you were not hers, but a vicious thing of the sea. Even then, that could not fizzle the blaze burning within her with each buck against her thigh, each drawled out praise spoken against her lips like dove-soft prayers. She was well aware of what you were, and yet you were heady all the same, like too much ale on a star-riddled night.

For the second time perhaps in her life as a sailor, her mind pulsed with a rare revelation. Sweet was its honesty now, she would be content if it were to be so;

It is fitting that I die here.

[evilminji]

Back at it again with the BNHA crossover Ponderings!

Nedzu is LITERALLY one of THE smartest beings on the planet, right? Like... he's probably on some internationally recognized list of Top Planetary IQs? Which is why Japan let's him get away with so much?

Cause they REALLY fucked him over, he has the power to leave, and that would be really, REALLY bad Brain Drain wise/politically for the Japanese Government? (Also pls don't become a Supervillian we literally can not afford that, Mr. Nedzu Sir? Etc etc)

You think he has... like? Chats? With the OTHER top intellects? Some kid in Siberia with the New Super Intelligence Quirk his parents can't begin to even handle, gets put in history's WEIRDEST group chat? I like to think so.

But the REASON I ask this?

What hero do you call? For Weird Shit in international waters?

Suspicious, floating, weirdly two dimensional and HIGHLY radioactive... corrosive... green goop? Rings? Orbs? CAN it be an orb if it's two dimensional? It certainly LOOKS like there is depth to it... somehow...

A THING. In the sky.

Shouldn't be there, man. This is a shipping lane. It's scaring the people on passing ships. No one knows what Quirk could have made this. Might be a trafficking victim's call for help. Might be a first Quirk Use mishap. They need to know what it IS and how to get rid of it.

They go the normal routes first. Doesn't work. Okay, call in some professionals. Kinda pricey, but no big. Right? Doesn't work. Okaaaay, call in a SPECIALIST. REAL pricey, but this thing is holding up international trade, making people in fancy ass suit all Nervous(TM).

Doesn't Work.

Specialist tells um to not to bother with calling anyone else on their normal list. Is looking at the green goo like it spat on his mother and called his dog a whore. They would prefer he NOT make that facial expression. That is a facial expression that will get them yelled at by their bosses. Fuck(TM).

Now Politics(TM) are involved. People want to STUDY the green goo. Harness it for dubious and unknown green goo experiments. Poke it with their Quirk to see what'll happen. There's fuckin REPORTER with no concept of self-preservation, trying to get CLOSER to the RADIOACTIVE POISON GOO.

Fuckin Heros have shown up.

Why are you bastards even HERE. What? Are you peacocks gonna PUNCH it? Get off their rig! Stop posing in front of the GOO!

Then? Oh thank GOD. The SMART people show up. Certified, highest grade, triple refined, PREMIUM Nerds(TM). The WAY above our pay grade folks. We're SAVED! Can we PLEASE go home now? We are just ocean cleaners! Our job is debris! Not weird GOO!

Enter, stage Super Cool Helicopters? The Elite Nerds of Earth. Of which Nedzu is one. Since Japan is closest. And it's a school weekend! He had some time.

And?

Ha ha... Thanks, he hates it! Nedzu's stoat brain is SCREAMING and he wants NOTHING to do with...? What he is somehow CERTAIN is a floating pit of Death! Interesting effect. Anyone getting that or just him?

Then? Some hot head on loan to Korea from the states? Spots something. SomeONE. And does he TELL the newly arrived professionals? So they may do a risk assessment? Figure out a way to rescue this individual SAFELY? Of course not!

Said hot head has supposedly indescribable chains! So he just flings them rights on in! Grabbing the boy from the center of the portal, pulling him free, and in the process? Immediately destabilizing it. Causing it to collapse down towards everyone bellow.

He also then proceeds to DROP the young lad, in his alarm at this entirely predictable outcome.

Right. Into. The Ocean.

A boy, who is dressed in filthy medical scrubs, haunting familiar in a way nothing should EVER be again, and entirely unconscious. Plunge down into the briny deeps and bitter cold. Alone. Abandoned. Death, thick and viscous, losing form and raining down like bile.

Everyone saving themselves.

Ah, he rather liked this suit.

The salt water ruins it. The droplets of Green, burn like molten glass each time they touch him. He will likely have at least a few new scars, after today. Assuming this is not the end of him. But he swims fast. The boy sinking slower then his size would suggest he should. He grabs hold and arcs, dragging them both from beneath the fallout of yet another humans hubris.

He does not stop swimming. Not until he knows he is near the helicopter. He is thankful, that he dragged Aizawa along. The man takes one look at his serious expression, the state of his rescued young friend, and merely hauls them both out of the water and into the machine.

Time to go.

They saw nothing, it seems. And there is nothing to be found.

The boy does not wake. Not for quite a while. Long enough, that Nedzu, perhaps unwisely, has grown attached. Is considering adoption. If only too terrorize a few goverment bodies. And... well... the boy will need some who UNDERSTANDS. And the scars paint a very specific sort of tale. But first, the most important question, when beginning these things...

"Tea? Or would you prefer coffee?"

@the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter @hdgnj

[crypticdesire]

you, me, and the sea are meant to be

MINORS DNI

dom amab reader x yandere!mermaid rook (around 3.5k words)

cw: rook is a little insane, yandere behavior, almost causes reader to drown, rook has an ovipositor and cloaca, ovipositioning, mention of baby trapping, face fucking, ...mmmm i think thats all....

You couldn’t decide if it was a good idea to come out here today. Wind mixed with briny mist causes your shirt to billow out away from your skin, and your pants slowly become damp from the cool wet rock you’re sitting on. Despite this you can’t help but enjoy looking out across the ocean on an overcast day, the muted grey tones of the sky and sea lulling you into a state of serenity.

Though there are some certain shades of vibrant colors you wouldn’t mind seeing. You stare intently at the water directly below you lapping gently against the low sides of the rock, a growing temptation to dip your feet into the water. It would no doubt be cold and you might get sick, but ever since you met them it was like the water was calling out to you.

Growing up on the hill above this rocky shore, you had spent plenty of time playing in the ocean, but now when the salty water met your skin it felt like you were being wrapped in some form of mystic energy. You liked to think that the sea acknowledged your presence and somehow made them aware of it too, although you were sure it was a foolish thought you should never voice to anyone else. Still, you find yourself allowing the small waves to lightly splash against your shins as you sway your feet in the murky water below you.

After a while goosebumps cover your skin, and you decide it’s probably time to accept they won’t be here today, and make the trek back up the steep rocky path that almost no one but yourself found worth the trouble to use to access a shore that seemed to be more rock than sand.

Just in time to stop you, however, something grabs your ankles causing your heart to leap out of your chest, half of a scream stuck as a lump in your throat.

Damn it. You should have gotten used to this by now, but at least your reactions aren’t as dramatic as they were before. You don’t even pull your feet out of the water as the hold on you is released, waiting for Rook’s head to pop out of the water. He was the only one out of the three that ever tried to catch you off guard like this, claiming it was a great source of amusement. And just like usual he has a coy smile on his face when he surfaces.

“Oh, mon joyau terrestre. I told you to always be prepared for the unexpected when you venture into our murky depths, non?” He casually adjusts the wet strands of his bangs before resting his elbows on the rock you sit on. His vibrant tail with a mix of purple and red scales bobs on the surface of the water, a tug of awe still pulling at you despite how many times you’ve seen it.

“It is really unexpected if you do it every time?”

“Perhaps not, and yet you still make yourself vulnerable every time” His sigh is not one of curiosity or disappointment but fondness. When you ask him about Vil and Epel, his smile remains but his eyes slightly narrow.

“My beauty isn’t enough to satiate you, mon joyau terrestre?” He rests his head on one of his hands, batting his pale lashes that still have small droplets of water on them.

“You know your company is always enough for me” You nudge his bare shoulder with your knee. “I was just wondering if I should expect someone else since you’re always the first to arrive”

“Maybe I just can’t break the cold surface of the water fast enough to feel the warm embrace of your smile” He gives you a toothy grin, a smile filled with more sharp teeth than you ever thought a mermaid would have. Rook let your curious fingers touch them once, maybe a little too eagerly, and you found them to be razor sharp just like the talons on his hands. Natural features for an omnivorous creature that lived in the depths of the ocean where they weren’t at the top of the food chain they assured you. But something was alluring about the juxtaposition between their delicate beauty and threatening features. A tingle went through you each time your skin was touched by one of Rook’s talons.

As if noticing where your attention has gone, Rook adds to his poetic words. “And scope out any threats of course”

Looking at him, it was hard to believe anything would faze him; however, from what they’ve told you their habit is to always avoid the dangers of land and its humans. Why they chose to continually interact with you is a question that goes unanswered. Migrating to your tiny corner of the world every summer maybe meant they didn’t fear a person they perhaps watched as a child stumble on the rocks and talk to any little creatures they came across. You met them as an adult a year ago, but Rook always talked like he already knew you.

“But to answer your question, the others won’t be joining us today. Vil has some matters to attend to, and Epel has been dragged along with him as punishment for going into the waters of the snatchers” You know he’s talking about the area the local fisherman frequent. “Just insists on staying in trouble I suppose” he sighs insincerely.

“I came today to give you something” he continues, taking a chain off his neck you didn’t notice before. As he pulls it out of the water you see the gold chain holds a jewel in a deep shade of purple. You aren’t familiar enough with jewels to know what it is, but it’s in a beautiful teardrop shape.

After dropping it into your hand, Rook pulls himself up so he can sit on the rock beside you. He insists on putting it on for you, your eyes intently studying his blue ones as he does. His touch lingers at your neck, talon grazing your skin as he follows the chain from your neck to your chest. You try to subtly adjust yourself to hide the fact the tingle has traveled down below your waist as well.

“I like there being something close to you that makes you think of me. Something close to your heart…” he trails off voice sounding mesmerized as the back of his hand caresses the place over your heart. He stares at the spot with yearning, almost like he wants to caress your actual heart.

You two had undeniably gotten closer this summer, this not being the first time he has visited you alone. You’ve learned that mermaids’ forms of affection, even platonic affection, centered around physical touch. But Rook’s touch had begun to feel different at some point, something more intimate about it that too easily stirred a desire in you. Unable to resist these urges, one day you two crossed the line of what could be considered platonic and never had any regrets.

You expect him to kiss you now, but any evidence of lust is gone in an instant as his expression morphs into one of pure delight, asking you to swim with him. Despite your reservations about the cold water before, it takes little convincing from Rook to coax you out of your clothes and into the water. You remind yourself that the end of summer will come and so will your time with Rook. Of course, your undergarments don’t help keep you warm at all, but Rook’s playful nature distracts you just enough so you’re not uncomfortable as your body adjusts to the cooler temperature.

“I love watching you swim mon joyau terrestre! The rhythmic movement of your legs is so adorable” he gushes. He dips underwater, and you feel his fingertips caress the length of your leg, from ankle to upper thigh. You tense when that touch extends to your clothed cock, that tingling sensation returning. When Rook resurfaces, however, he doesn’t acknowledge the intimate touch and instead engages you in more of his games.

After a while you give your body a reprieve, the sea calm enough to float on your back. You bask in the peaceful quiet, your ears submerged underwater and Rook idly playing with your fingers. A muffled sound tells you he’s starting to say something so you ask him to repeat it, slightly turning your head so one ear is above the water.

“Que c’est beau” he says “It’s like you were meant for the ocean. Such a shame you need air and swimming is so exhausting for you. I wish you could stay in the sea swimming with me all day” he pouts.

“Even with my pruney fingers” you joke, waggling your wrinkled fingers in front of him.

“I’ll take you pruney fingers and all” he gently presses a kiss to each fingertip. “If you could, would you go with me? Let the ocean be your home?” You smile at the thought.

“It’s certainly appealing” you reply not wanting to dwell too long on the impossible.

“I want that.” His grip tightens on your hand. “I want it so bad” Not knowing what to say, you let the quiet return, both your ears back underwater. Rook’s hold is still tight but you don’t mind. You don’t mind that is until he uses it to drag you underwater.

At first, you think it’s one of his games aimed at getting you to start swimming, but his grip on your wrist is ironclad as he pulls you deeper than expected. You try to grasp his wrist with your other hand to let him know you want him to stop, but he doesn’t even look at you. You don’t know what his goal is, but the surprise dive gave you little time to fill your lungs with air, and you close your eyes struggling to hold your breath.

All of a sudden he stops and lets go of your wrist. You open your eyes again to reveal the blurry image of his face smiling back at you, the momentum of the dive causing you to bump into his chest. You point to the surface, indicating you need air, and begin to kick your legs, catching a glimpse of Rook’s smile morphing into a frown. You don’t make it very far, however, his hands grasping you again. This time, he wraps his arms around both your arms and torso, holding you close to his chest. You can feel him nuzzle his face into your neck, but your body has gone into survival mode and you struggle against him. With little control over your arms, you desperately kick your legs, feeling them make weak contact with his tail.

Panicking you forcibly bite down on his shoulder without thinking about the consequences, his surprise loosening his grip around you. You immediately push yourself away from him and try to ignore the burning sensation in your lungs as water enters them. You can’t gauge how far away you are from the surface, so you just continue swimming. Your thoughts become unclear, the pain in your chest ebbing away but hopefully, the movements of your legs haven’t slowed. If only you could reach the surface. Black spots float between you and the surface. You think you’re still swimming.

You feel slightly detached from your body, but you feel the cool sensation of air as your hand breaks through the surface. When your face surfaces you flap your arms wildly looking for something to hold on to, coughing and spluttering as you barely keep your face above water. Your limbs are growing heavier and you can feel your body giving out when a sudden force propels you out of the water. Your mind is slow to catch up, but a few moments later you feel the rough surface of a rock beneath you, your insides burning as you violently cough up water.

You feel weak. Your body. Your breathing. Your ability to think and process what happened. All weak.

Eyes closed, you try to focus on your breathing first, opening your eyes again when you have it steady. You’re only able to squint at first, your eyes stinging and sensitive to the light even with it being overcast, but you can eventually open them wider to see the blurry form of Rook sitting beside you. You expect yourself to have some kind of reaction. You still can’t think clearly, but he almost drowned you, right? Do you even let yourself think that he was trying to drown you?

If Rook sees that you’ve come to, he doesn’t acknowledge it, simply humming as he gently traces circles into your thighs with his fingertip. Your eyes drift to his shoulder, the place where you bit him already becoming a bruise.

“You-“ your voice comes out hoarse and can’t even say another word before you go into another coughing fit. It at least gets Rook to talk to you.

“That was unexpected, non?” he softly smiles. He waits patiently for you to respond.

“I could..” You take in a shallow breath. “..have died” Your voice is quiet, not holding any of the rage or fear that would be logical to feel.

“At least a dead body doesn’t need air” he giggles. Your chest becomes tight like it’s feeling with water again. You try to discern the emotion behind his eyes, but find that you’re unable to do so.

“Relax,” he squeezes your thigh affectionately. “I��m only joking. Of course, I prefer you alive. I get to enjoy you more that way. I thought about it and in the ocean, the skin of your dead body would peel away too quickly, and I’d hate to share pieces of you with bottom feeders.” His mirthful laughter can’t erase the truthful tone of his words.

“Plus, I’d miss the way your body reacts to my touch” he looks at you through his lashes, the fingertip that was formerly on your thigh now rubbing the length of your cock over your soaked underwear. You feel the slightest tingling sensation, but you’re not even sure you could get hard right now. But you also don’t ask Rook to stop.

“Are you in pain?” He questions, which is a question you have to take a moment to think about, still not feeling completely connected to your body. The worst feeling right now is the painful raw feeling inside your throat and nose from having the salt water in your body. Your limbs feel weak and heavy, but you’re sure the soreness will hit you with its full force tomorrow.

“Just a bit” you decide to answer, voice still raspy.

“Do you want me to make you feel better?” He teases the band of your underwear. The logical part of your mind, though still dull, is saying that you should get away from him as soon as you can, but could your weak body really make it up that steep hill right now? He did admit he prefers you alive, so you can’t be in danger anymore, right?

You end up nodding your head, and Rook beams at you, immediately moving to remove your underwear. You let him do all the work, of course, watching every movement of his hands as he tosses your underwear to the side and wraps them around your flaccid cock.

He lets his spit drop onto your tip, spreading it down your length as he strokes you. He kisses your tip before taking you into his mouth, making sounds of pleasure as he tries to take you fully into his mouth. He’s careful with his teeth, but you feel a gentle scrape on the underside of your dick occasionally, causing your thighs to tremble.

His tongue is warm as it roams your cock, and you can’t help but let out a moan of pleasure when he gives the same attention to your balls, sucking on them gently after he’s licked their surface. There’s the smallest tug in the pit of your stomach to let you know his ministrations are working. You even lift your hips a bit to push your cock deeper into his mouth when he takes it between his lips again. Spurred on by your actions and the potential of getting you hard, Rook pleasures you with more fervor, hands circling the base of your cock while he bobs his head taking the rest of you.

As you become more vocal, Rook becomes more sloppy, his drool coating your cock as he continues to suck you off. He whimpers when he feels your hand grasp his hair and tries to deep-throat you again. You attempt to thrust into his mouth again, but his lips leave you too soon, hand rubbing your tip again.

“Your mouth doesn’t deserve a break” you grunt using your grip on his damp hair to force him back down on your cock. You feel him moan around your cock as you bob his head up and down your length, and then you bury his face in your pubic hair as you try to hit the back of his throat. He doesn’t resist you so you continue to pull his head up a bit before roughly forcing it back down until he’s coughing and spluttering like you were earlier.

“I’m close,” you tell him when you let go of his hair.

“I want to taste you in my mouth” he pants, fondling your balls with one hand as he goes back down to swirl his tongue around your tip. He then takes your tip into his mouth sucking as he strokes your base with his hand, and it doesn’t take long for you to approach your climax, hand twisting itself back into Rook’s hair as you come into his mouth. He whines, sucking you harder, and he doesn’t take you out of his mouth until he’s sure you’re done.

“Mmm. I love the taste of you mon joyau terrestre” he looks almost delirious as he takes his thumb to push some cum that leaked out onto his bottom lip back into his mouth, eyes fluttering as he savors the taste.

“I can’t seem to control myself around you” he keens, laying down beside you, and you prop yourself up on your side so that you can watch his hands trail down his abdomen and go to the scales of his tail. His fingertips begin to gently massage his half-extended ovipositor. Adjacent to that is his slit, which you wouldn’t even know how to locate if it wasn’t for him showing you a couple of weeks ago. He let you slip your fingers into his squishy insides and explore his cloaca just as eagerly as he let you explore his teeth.

You trace your finger along the edge of the slit now, causing Rook to whimper and beg you to touch him. He whines as you dip your finger just over the edge, fingertips roaming his cloaca before teasing his entrance.

“Please” he begs again, still massaging his ovipositor and you push the tip of your finger in, watching Rook’s expression as his eyes roll backward in pleasure. You wiggle your finger in the wet warmth of his entrance just in the slightest to stretch him out a bit.

“Ah you feel perfect inside me” he praises as you continue stretching him. “I wish you could fertilize my eggs, so I know you’d have a reason to see me again. I need you to be here every migration season waiting for me” His tail squirms as you push the rest of your finger into him. He’s so wet now, that his insides make a squelching sound as you thrust two fingers into him.

The end of his tail firmly slaps the surface of the water a few times, back arching off the rock as he climaxes. You slip your fingers out of him as he quickly turns on his side and watch as he gasps in pleasure letting out a series of three eggs. After he’s done he gently caresses the eggs with his fingers, looking up at you with adoration.

“Que c’est beau” he smiles leaning forward to brush his nose against yours, and you hold your breath until he relaxes his forehead against yours. Heat rises to your cheeks at the intimate mermaid gesture he’s shown you before, that heat being one of a burning need to have more. He seems prepared for the moment when your lips meet his, tongue probing your mouth, movements much more natural to him now than the first time you kissed.

“I know you can’t fertilize these eggs,” he says sadly when you pull apart. “But you will always wait for me, non? I want you all for myself all the time, but the sea doesn’t seem to want to grant that wish." he sighs wistfully.

"The only way I can leave you is if I know you’re always thinking of me. Promise you’ll never take that necklace off” his eyes shine with desperate need as he places a hand on your shoulder, talons slightly digging into your skin. You weren’t sure what your life would be like in a year, but given what happened earlier today there was only one right answer.

“I promise”

[themanfromeire]

Take a Deep Breath

Remus Lupin x reader

Summary: The reader feels like they're drowning in anxiety, thankfully, Remus is the lifeline that can pull them out of the sea. Reader's gender is not specified - can be male, female or anything in between.

Cross posted on AO3

~~

As your eyes drifted to the familiar figure approaching in your peripheral vision, you shoved your trembling hands into your pockets. You did not want to burden your boyfriend with something you believed to be as trivial as your anxiety.

Your anxiety ebbed and flowed like the tide of the ocean, some days you could float contentedly on the saline solution, others, the waves were vicious and attempted to force you underneath the surface of the water, trying to drown you in a tide of fear.

On days like those, a full breath felt like a privilege that you could not be afforded as the water filled your lungs, and the salt stung your eyes, bringing you to your knees on the dirty ground, gasping for air that you could not inhale, and staining your skin with the waters of agony that seeped from your eyes.

Unfortunately, today was one of those days, and despite your best efforts to disguise it, Remus knew too. One look of his chestnut brown eyes was enough to strip you of the facade of okayness that you had hastily shoved on. Placing a hand on your shoulder, he unmasked your anxiety like a Scooby - Doo villain.

 “Darling,” Remus began, his voice pulling you from the depths of the sea of your mind, and wrapping you in a warm towel of unconditional love and affection. “What have we talked about? You don’t need to hide your anxiety from me.” His voice held a gentle and endearing tone as he chastised you gently.

With ease, he sat down beside you, and you quickly found solace in his company. One of his hands found its way to your hip, and gently pulled you closer to him, to your lifeline. Your rock in the tumultuous ocean. 

As he spoke, Remus’ words held no coldness, no salt. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but if you do, I am always here. Now, my love, is it regular anxiety, or a panic attack?”

His words make you stop and think. Panic attacks opened with the sensation of the pressure of the water as you swiftly plummeted to what felt like your submerged grave, crushing your chest and leaving you gasping for oxygen that never came as the briny liquid filled your liquid instead. 

Forcing your body to cooperate, you dragged a heavy breath into your lungs, dictating it to fill your anxiety riddled form. The air that began to coarse through your body lacked the distinct tang of salt that you had expected. Compelling your lungs to once more, you inhaled again before replying. “Anxiety.”

A noise of sympathy left Remus’ lips, and without hesitation, he leant down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m so sorry that you’re going through this at the moment, baby, would you like to go to my dorm and cuddle with me? James, Sirius and Peter would gladly leave the room if they knew it would help you to feel even a little better.”

A small smile graced your lips at Remus’ words. The other three Marauders, god bless them, would trip over their own feet to help you. They were incredibly fond of you, sometimes it made you wonder if you were dating all of them because of how much they enjoyed doting on you. 

“There’s that beautiful smile that I missed!” Remus exclaimed happily and brought a hand to your cheek and caressed it gently. Subconsciously, you leaned into his gentle touch on your cheek. “C’mon love, let’s go cuddle.”

[snazzy-writes-a-little]

In fire I find your warmth,

Though only a fraction of what

Awaits in your embrace.

In the depths of the briny blue sea,

Calm and cool

Is where I find your gaze

Rich in that profound lightless abyss,

Eyes that swallow whole

Without mercy.

And in your embrace

A strike like lightning

And the whirling whoosh of vibrating energy

I hold you close,

Your lightning seeping into my chest

The energy of your soul

Breathes new life into my heart

And someplace along the coast

Of an ocean cold and deep,

Rich as your heart,

But warm and welcoming

I have built a cabin for you

Out of coral and seashells

And scales and fishbone

A house, nay, palace

Of the sea

And she was only ever

Half the woman you are,

My dearest one.

[traveling-spicy-food]

Warm and Wholesome: The Timeless Taste of Clam Chowder

Clam chowder has long been a beloved comfort food, with its creamy texture and hearty ingredients providing a warm and wholesome meal that stands the test of time. This classic dish has origins in the Northeastern United States, particularly in New England, where it has become a signature dish that represents the region's maritime heritage.One of the key elements that make clam chowder so timeless is its versatility. While the traditional New England clam chowder typically consists of clams, potatoes, onions, and cream, variations of the dish can be found across the country and around the world. From Manhattan clam chowder with a tomato base to Rhode Island clam chowder with a clear broth, there are countless ways to enjoy this comforting soup.In terms of popularity, clam chowder consistently ranks as a favorite among consumers. According to a survey conducted by the National Fisheries Institute, clam chowder is one of the top ten seafood dishes consumed in the United States. This widespread appeal can be attributed to the dish's rich flavor profile, satisfying ingredients, and nostalgic associations.Experts in the culinary world often praise clam chowder for its simplicity and depth of flavor. Chef and TV personality Alton Brown has described clam chowder as a "perfect combination of creamy and briny," highlighting how the dish strikes a balance between comforting creaminess and the savory taste of fresh seafood.Real-world examples of clam chowder's enduring popularity can be seen in the numerous restaurants, seafood markets, and food festivals that feature the dish prominently on their menus. In coastal towns like Boston, San Francisco, and Seattle, clam chowder is a staple offering that draws locals and tourists alike seeking a taste of traditional maritime fare.Overall, clam chowder's timeless appeal lies in its ability to evoke feelings of warmth, comfort, and nostalgia. Whether enjoyed on a cold winter day or as a summertime treat by the beach, this classic soup continues to captivate diners with its delicious taste and wholesome ingredients. So next time you're craving a hearty and satisfying meal, consider indulging in a bowl of clam chowder for a taste of culinary tradition that never goes out of style.

Click here to read interesting "Food and Cooking" related articles.

[no-truth-left]

1.004 - Try to wrestle the oar free

Its pulling is desperate and angry. She grits her teeth, bracing one foot against the side of the little boat and another against the floor. She pulls the second oar in to concentrate wholly on this… this thing. The boat tilts precariously to the side, water splashing in. Her heart hammers wildly in her chest.

That’s when she sees it, through the briny depths and low-hanging fog. The ripples distort its image, and her brain scrambles to put context to what she thinks she sees.

Bulging eyes, yellow rimmed black and filled with malice, stare up at her. A long, lipless seam in a scaly face gapes, opening to rows of sharp teeth distorted through the refraction of light and waves. Bloated neck, frilled with gills, leads to a bloated chest. Twig-thin arms with scaled skin that floats loosely in the water end in finger-finned hands. Hands that have an iron grip around her oar.

And then it's gone as the boat tilts and water sloshes. Her mind reels. A water-logged fish corpse is trying to take her oars and capsize her. The thought is ridiculous. What is going on? What is she even doing out here?

The dinghy lurches again, tipping, tipping, tipping, and water sloshes over her legs. The cold shocks her mind back into motion.

Not dying! She thinks, shifting her grip. As the creature yanks again, she pushes, using its own strength against it to strike. She feels impact, hard wood slamming spongy flesh. There is resistance until she feels something pop. Then the oar sinks further in, like a shovel through wet dirt.

It relinquishes its grip, animalistic lowing gurgling up from the water, foaming bubbles like rabies. Brackish-purple liquid spreads through them.

With a triumphant yell, she tears the oar out of the water, out of its weakened grasp. Purple liquid and small chunks of discolored flesh cling to the rough wood.

More ripples, further out. Reinforcements? Animals fleeing from their struggle?

Chest heaving, arms shaking, she tightens her grip.

[bam-monsterhospital]

i TOUCHED THE OCEAN YESTERDAY I PUT MY FEETS IN IT I RAN ACROSS THE SAND AND AMONGST THE LAPPING TIDE I GAINED ALL THE DOPAMINE!

we went to gros morne yesterday and it was wonderful

you can't see much of it because i didn't put my camera up above my head when taking these pics, but the sea had a lot of green in it and it was so punchy-saturated and beautiful. you might be able to make out some whitecaps there, which tells you that yeah it was really really windy. god i missed this so much. all these shots were from the wet sand and i'm kinda sad i didn't take more of the dry bits of sand since it was really light and soft and my fav kinda sand... whereas here it just looks muddy and grey. it was low tide and you could walk out forever over the oodles of sandbanks.

[carnivorousyandeere]

Welcome to the Cliffside Inn P.4; Isla and Airna Intros 2

Next and last part of the Cliffside Intro will be for Eris.

Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5

Of course, the night winds down eventually. Drinks are emptied and ash trays are filled.

“Well,” you sigh, moving to head out. “It’s been nice talking with you. Think I’m gonna head out to the beach for a minute, then turn in for the night.”

Isla and Airna give each other a look. Nervously, Airna puts her hand on your forearm as Isla raises a brow and crosses her arms. “A-are you sure? The beach can be a little dangerous at night. You know, washed up sea urchins and all that…”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be careful.” You wave their concerns away and slip out, stumbling a little from sleepiness (and maybe a drink or two).

The briny nighttime air clears your mind a bit. You pause, taking off your shoes to feel the sand beneath you, and then stretch. The sounds of the sea at night are as beautiful as they are unsettling. You can’t help but look out over the horizon, dimly lit by the moon, and think of all the strange and wonderful creatures that must live in the depths far beyond humans’ reach. A breeze washes over you, and you hear something under the current— a faint melody, maybe something being played from far away. You shiver, and turn from the ocean to walk back to the Inn.

Your sleep that night is restless and uneasy, strange and disturbing dreams flowing through your mind and dragging you under again and again. You wake in a cold sweat and shoot upright, only to immediately regret it at the way your head pounds. The lights are so bright, moving across your vision— you blink, then blink once more. It’s not your mind playing tricks, the morning sunlight really is reflecting off of every surface in the room.

And this isn’t your room.

Covered in sparkly mermaid memorabilia, this looks little like the professionally decorated, vintage hotel room you’d been set up in for your trip— although the shape of the room and view from the windows confirmed you were, indeed, somewhere within the hotel. But you couldn’t really remember coming back to the hotel at all— not to your room, and certainly not to this one.

Hesitantly, you shuffle out from under the covers and look towards the door… only to jump and shout a little at the presence of a person sitting in a chair beside the bed, so quiet you didn’t even hear her.

Isla looks up and blinks owlishly at you through thick glasses as you stare at her. They make her steady, serious brown eyes look gigantic. She pushes a braid behind her ear and slides a lacey patterned bookmark between the pages of the novel she’d been engrossed in, and swallows, before clearing her throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Airna comes running at the sound of your yell, hand pressed over her heart. She immediately begins showering with questions you don’t know the answers to. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened last night?”

You shake your head, bewildered and overwhelmed.

“We found you passed out on the beach last night!”

Your head only hurts more as you try to remember the night before, and she continues speaking. “Any strange dreams?”

Your brow furrows— a strange sense of both claustrophobia and agoraphobia wash over you, phantom sensations of seaweed itching at your legs. The pain is piercing. You bury your head in your hands.

Isla stands, placing one hand on your shoulder and one on Airna’s. “That is enough.”

You try to shrug off her hand, intending to stumble your way to the hallway and then to your room, or maybe the front desk to call an uber to the airport immediately— but Isla’s hand only tightens.

“You are in no condition to be moving around right now, conejito.”

Airna nods, nervous energy practically vibrating from her every pore. “That’s right! At least let us get you some headache medicine, and some tea and breakfast for the trouble!”

“N-no, I think I need to— to be alone for a bit.” This time when you move to get up, Isla lets you, expression unreadable. The pair watches you rise on unsteady legs, and open the door for you. Silently, they follow you to your room, letting you lean on one or the other if you begin to lose your balance. Once you’re safely in your own bed, though, Isla and Airna both tuck you in with kisses to the forehead, and leave. You’re too exhausted and confused to even protest the gesture.

[risedluna]

your muses aesthetic. list your muse’s aesthetic from tastes, smells, outfits, and sceneries. add as many subjects as you like, it can help with people tagging you in aesthetically pleasing things towards your muse.

tastes. traditional water tribe cuisine. savory seal jerky, steamed sea prunes, and hearty sea kelp stew. snowy yam pastries, coconut seaweed wraps, grilled fish, and salted sea cucumbers harvested from the ocean depths. homemade meals. comforting soups and stews prepared with an abundance of care. traditional water tribe dishes passed down through generations, reflecting heritage. learned from her mother. her grandmother. akutaq, whipped animal fat, berries, and seabirds in seal skin. ptarmigan, ducks, and geese.

smells. briny air carrying the scent of the ocean. earthy scents of healing herbs and plants. smoky aroma of wood-fired stoves. mingled with the savory smells of simmering soups, roasting meats. sea salt and brine. tangy, maritime scent of saltwater and seaweed. scent of home. crackling hearth fires in the igloos of the southern water tribe.

sights. glacial landscapes. icebergs, frozen tundras, and aurora australis visible in the sky, shades of green, yellow cutting across the dark. vibrant festivals and ceremonies. healing sanctuaries: tranquil pools and waterfalls, sacred places where katara practices her water-bending techniques. communal gathering spaces, consistently bustling with activity and familiar faces. endless expanses of icy plains, dotted with snowdrifts and hidden ice caves. glow of the full moon reflecting off the icy landscape, casting mercury light on the snow. otter penguins roaming in packs, polar bear dogs stalking the snowy plains for prey.

sounds. cascading waterfalls, and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore. swirling currents. melodic tunes played on traditional water tribe instruments, drums, flutes, and stringed lyres. chirping birds and the distant calls of arctic creatures echoing across the frozen landscape. howling winds, vibrating against the surface of ice buildings. soft chants, whispered prayers, and the tranquil hum of energy. warm crackling of burning wood, accompanied by the comforting sounds of popping embers and sizzling stew pots. haunting melodies sung during rituals and ceremonies. the soft rustle of snowflakes.

sensations. chill of the frozen tundra. iciness, cold. embrace of fur-lined blankets and blankets, protection against the arctic conditions. empowering surges of energies. sense of community, kinship. water does not resist. water flows. when you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. but water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. water is patient. dripping water wears away a stone. power, fluidity. feelings of rage, raw, and aggressive. i would rather die on my feet than live on my knees.

tagged by — me. thank you, me. tagging — @equaliezr, @avat4r, @empirelead, @earthfeel, @tessenwarrior, @spiritshe, @fanfabled

[xivysongx]

A tidal shift as if the sea,

when first you stole a glance at me.

Waves of thought unlike before

collided with my stony shore.

I filled the jars which I could hold

with briny foam and salted cold.

My dreams afloat an airy bed,

I poured the waters on my head.

And from the depths, I did await

for words to come before too late.

[kazsartcorner]

Theophilus Mesony prophet of Architeuthis.

Sartosa is home to many a strange gang of cutthroats, smugglers or vagabounds, more sinisterly are the innumerble cults who take refuge in the anarchic City-State, while many are simply praising gods like Stromfels or Manann, there are the odd chaos cults and sometimes, things more...archaic. Things that should have been left below the cold briny depths. Far from power and life.

[honorhearted]

"Tallmadge, now, is not the proper time to take a kip," Peggy rumbles crouching beside him and the swollen river. Worriedly, her trembling hands shake him in an attempt to rouse him. Her own hands shrug off her coat and she drapes it over him. "Come on, we must get you warm..."

@timeguardians

As water licked up his boots, the flooding rush quickly rose while all around him, any potential means of escape vanished. The area was boundless, blank, save for the churning waves, and Ben sucked a breath once the cold water -- God, it was so cold -- needled into him the moment it rose above his boots.

Deep within his subconscious, he knew this was a dream. In the colony of New Jersey, he’d never witnessed a flooding of this degree, but to the terror-riddled, paralyzing fear gripping him by the throat, he was incapable of reason -- incapable of awakening despite his lukewarm attempts at conciliation. 

The light sky soon turned pitch-black, and closing his eyes, Ben curled his fists and trembled while all around him, he could hear the racing flood swirling and crashing into him as the wet, the cold was now unmistakably up to his chest. It was heart-stoppingly freezing, and it suddenly felt as though there were vines wrapping around him, tight and vice-like and crushing in their restraint. With a sharp breath, his eyes opened and Ben became disoriented once he realized he was lying on his side underneath a lean-to, the faint glow of a campfire crackling close by as he shivered and shook.

Discerning the source of the “vines,” Ben tremblingly tugged himself free of Peggy’s coat, his breath like sand in his lungs as he wheezed and broke away long enough to retch. He doubled over onto his hands and knees, his forehead nudging into the earth as he fought back a wave of nausea.

He was all right. By some miracle, he was actually alive despite his last memories being the needle-like cold of the Delaware, and then his head submerging beneath the briny depths, and then...nothing.

Shakily tugging the blanket around his shoulders, Ben squinted up at Peggy and swallowed, "How long...? W-where...?" he rasped.

In truth, he wanted to ask what she was doing there -- why was she with him? -- but his head was spinning, and he was far too dizzy to argue or set himself up for yet another one of their damnable arguments. Instead, he regarded her discarded coat and mumbled a soft, "Thank you," before sinking back into his bedding. "Are we here alone? Where are the others?"

[real-live-human]

Floor 5, Room 6

weekly theme: flood

this room is flooded to a depth of about three feet by cold, briny water. waiting to challenge any intruders are two powerfully built sahuagin.

monsters: 2x weak sea devil baron

loot: besides their weapons, each sahuagin is also wearing ornate bone jewelry.