#cursed in eternity
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12:27 AM EDT June 3, 2023:
Mayhem - "Cursed In Eternity" From the album De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas (May 24, 1994)
Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm
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On the idea of Theseus's Ship: in the end, it's still his, isn't it? It was known as Theseus's, and it will continue to be known as Theseus's.
Even after he has returned to the ground which grew the wood of the hammer used to nail the ship's frame, Even after generations of new wood have rotted and the sails are rags clinging to threads, Even after millennia,
it will still be Theseus's Ship.
Thank you for bringing us home.
Goodnight, Phosphophyllite.
#have a pleasant eternity#itâs over⊠itâs so overâŠ..#GOODNIGHT HOUSEKI NO KUNI đ«Ąđ«Ąđ«Ą#*clenches fist* happy series finale everyone#Curse of Binding on the hnk countdown twitter acc has been lifted... but at what cost.......#houseki no kuni#hnk#hnk fanart#land of the lustrous#lotl#lotl fanart#phosphophillyte#houseki no kuni phos#hnk phos#lotl phos#hnk spoilers#lotl spoilers#art#my art#fanart#there's no signature bc i tried adding one and it ruined the faux manga panel look i was going for#but this isn't a real panel from hnk#held off on posting this one before 108 dropped so people won't mistake it for leaks#if i see it making the rounds on pinterest as a âpanel from ch 108â i might actually laugh myself into the ER#thank you ichikawa#goodnight pitapat#welcome home#edited to include more thoughts#because if i had to cry over hnk in class nearly a week after it ended#then youâre all coming down with me
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and people wonder why he was the first to go bonkers
#mod canid#canid's art#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#dragon curse au#crk#shadow milk cookie#blueberry milk cookie#burning spice cookie#spice medley cookie#saccharine sugar cookie#eternal sugar cookie#sifted flour cookie#mystic flour cookie#salt phoenix cookie#silent salt cookie
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farcille is the only realistic lesbian couple ever. wdym your girlfriend doesnât explode at mild inconveniences?
#if i too was cursed with Eternal Yearning i may be inclined to partake in bombing dungeons.#vast majority of my relationships began because i was âa little strangeââ so i relate falin#falin gives me hope that autism is the new game#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#falin touden#marcille dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi fanart#big tittie chimera#digital art#lesbian
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the miserable Snake again.. love is in the air? WRONG!!!!! ABYSSAL SERPENT
#elden ring#shadow of the erdtree#base serpent messmer#messmer the impaler#marika the eternal#soulsborne#fromsoftware#my art#i can draw him in one [1] pose it seems#still so fucked up that miquella and messmer are basically two sides of the same coin#one who embraces their curse despite their hatred and contempt for it#and one who desperately cuts off pieces of himself to undo it. destroying himself in the process#guy who is a warfaring feared commander but is so sad about it and misses his mom as opposed to#guy so full of love who wants to make the world a better place accidentally turns himself into a would-be tyrant#sigh. i Hate elden ring
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Tfw you (currently obsessed with ISAT who never plays pokemon) play a soul-link nuzlocke with a friend (in for a world of torment) and you can't pay attention to a health bar for the life of you nor remember what types are weak to what.
Spoiler under the cut :)
Guy how did you manage to un-evolve yourself
#siffrin isat#loop isat#pokemon#isat#in stars and time#art#fanart#yeah um. pokebeau did NOT survive. psychic bastards curse ye#i named the cofagrigus to be funny silly and friend was like 'you know those trap people and mummify them' and i balked#i saw that isa (machop) had an evolution with four hands and i squeaked#isa died and i died too#isat spoilers#in stars and time spoilers#the sarcophogus looks like the king and house because they are Siffrin's eternal prison :)#id @ my friend but they havent finished yet nvfjdksn there's so much art i have to show them#tfw you make friends with a ghost type and they get really attached and guess what fucking happens#i thought cofagrigus looked so silly before drawing all this and now. i still think it looks silly#kitscribbles#he is coming out to hold hands for realsies :) he does that when you take turns holding each hand every day :) :)#just like try not to hold all four of them. you might get dragged in#you hold their left hand and their right hand and you give them your left foot and your right foot and oh you're being lifted the do o r is#Also runerigus is so so interesting. Horrific memories you say
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Young Malenia doodles + headcanons
((A.K.A Malenia as Miquella always sees her even after she grew up and became a fierce warrior))
#elden ring#sweet and shy Malenia transforming into a deadly warrior#something something metamorphosis reference#anyway I think that the irony is that Miquella is cursed with eternal youth but actually his big bro genes are so strong that he also#just permanently associates Malenia with her baby self#sheâs a grown adult with 5 kids like âbye Miq Iâm going to warâ and heâs like âhuh!? what!? you canât do that youâre twelve!â#Malenia is the baby to him#heâs an old man
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dilf detected!
wonderful comic made by @cuppajj !! oughhh he/she spice is so real
[i sincerely apologize for every burning spice enjoyer ever i BUTCHERED his voice even though he said TWO WORDS. deep male voices hate me, gender ambiguous voices want me]
#cookie run kingdom#crk#burning spice cookie#shadow milk cookie#eternal sugar cookie#suicide joke#you can tell i struggled to do such a deep voice LMFAOOOO if only i was able to voice my disgusting little he/she wife better </3#alas. afab curse. whateva. seeing this post for the first time made me giggle UNCONTROLLABLY.#btw: unsure if OP said it could be tagged as a ship#so i'd just check the original link first lol. i'm unsure (even though i as the dubber ship them. for sillies)
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these guys' real curse is that people keep dying and killing themselves for them, but no one will let them die
#until sam finally lets dean die and he's cursed to drive around by himself for eternity lol#good show đ#rain posts#supernatural
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the opening lines of the shadow of the erdtree trailer remind me a LOT of a certain quote from another game:
and with this in mind, i really hope that the direction they go with miquella is less like the manipulative griffith-esque archetype some people are theorizing, and more like Nâs characterization in pokemon black and white: someone very intelligent and powerful but naĂŻve, whose honest attempts at creating a better world might bring about more destruction in the end.
#thereâs also miquellaâs curse of eternal youth vs Nâs trauma and abuse keeping him stuck in a childish mindset#but idk how to fit that in here so itâs going in the tags#(and yeah of course iâm an N enjoyer it came free with the fucking neurodivergence)#and tbh i donât think miquellaâs goals will innately lead to destruction#i just think that would be an interesting direction to take it#but having him actually succeed in making a better world might be even more interesting lol#i just used what i did as an example for comparison purposes#elden ring#shadow of the erdtree#elden ring theory#miquella#pokemon black and white#n harmonia#natural harmonia gropius#speaketh#greatest hits
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i don't trust anyone who hates sansa stark
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5:22 AM EDT May 18, 2023:
Mayhem - "Cursed In Eternity" From the album De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas (May 24, 1994)
Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm
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drew your freaky-eyed son. forgive the ask instead of a reblog, i took some liberties with the provided base ;)
happy esau-iversary
you're fine :D
also smash
#eternal servants au#esau fanart#esau wukong#this looks so funny with being a mix between our styles LMAO fhdgnfhgnhdfg#also you're one of the few people who didn't give him a dress or cursed body HSDNHSAJDNSAHJDNHJSD
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AU of an AU where the beasts never got corrupted and they raised the ancients as successors
#mod canid#canid's art#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#crk#dragon curse au#eclipse au#shadow milk cookie#blueberry milk cookie#burning spice cookie#spice medley cookie#shadowspice#golden cheese cookie#pure vanilla cookie#dark cacao cookie#purecacao#white lily cookie#wind archer cookie#silent salt cookie#salt phoenix cookie#theyre the birds!#mystic flour cookie#sifted flour cookie#eternal sugar cookie#saccharine sugar cookie#capsaicin cookie#holy hell thats. a lot of tags
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Deep Water
nix! König x fem! reader
content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.
notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense⊠bear with me this will pass (it will not). if youâre uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;drâ a shapeshifting water spirit).
Youâve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isnât kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.
For all of the fear, town myths were just thatâ myths.
As always, thereâs no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the riverâs bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; itâs only peaceful, and thatâs why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.
There are nights when the river isnât calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel itâs no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they werenât careful.
You didnât come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.
If anything, itâs a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.
During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, itâs just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awfulâ dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldnât mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.
When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, youâve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. Youâve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.
Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.
The next night, youâre greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.
âBest to leave you alone, huh?,â you ask to itâs retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesnât respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.
You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.
You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. Youâve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.
Thereâs a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.
The fish doesnât appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.
Weeks pass by like thisâ work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally itâs the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often itâs the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.
When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.
Youâre stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. Itâs not proper swimming attire, but you reason that youâre not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesnât really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldnât dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after youâve been so kind to it.
Itâs hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.
You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.
You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesnât tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.
Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.
You hadnât expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesnât come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.
This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, thereâs not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, youâre met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animalâs as you scramble back to where youâve left your shorts.
He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.
No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.
You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You donât even bother with your flashlight.
Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over whatâs just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at allâ a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.
You donât sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isnât on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you wonât be in today.
It could be excused, youâre reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.
You donât want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadnât noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.
Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.
The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, thatâs the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes⊠so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.
You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.
The trek there is nothing short of dull.
No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, thereâs nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that donât belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasnât all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.
The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. Itâs possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isnât the case. Either way, itâs unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.
Night creeps in slowly with you there, and youâre on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.
No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?
Thereâs nothing to suggest that youâre playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.
You donât dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.
Itâs horribly hot and youâre still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as youâve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.
When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that youâre hearing. Itâs not beautiful, not like the myths have said. Itâs hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.
Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.
You canât bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.
The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where itâs stood on the rocks lining the bank. Youâve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesnât choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.
You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldnât look at it, wouldnât talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.
âBest to leave you alone, hm?â
You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.
Heâs crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way itâs unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.
âExcuse me?â You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. Youâre prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.
The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.
His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know youâre not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.
Yet, he doesnât reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that youâve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.
âIâll⊠Iâll be going now.â
The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.
It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag⊠heâs expecting something and itâs not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. Itâs not charming, itâs awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.
You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.
âIs this what you want?,â you ask, voice hushed and trembling.
He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, heâs just been willfully ignoring every other thing youâve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.
âThen what?â
Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but thereâs a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.
âCome with me,â he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, thereâs a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.
You donât fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as youâre pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.
Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. Itâs not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.
All at once, your vision darkens and itâs over.
You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.
Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadnât fallen asleep.
Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You donât even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.
Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.
Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.
The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you havenât even thought about the river in days. Thereâs no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.
A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. Youâre grateful that you live close, that youâre not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that youâre finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you havenât had in place since that last night.
Even in the summer, thereâs a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. Itâs darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves uselessâ the powerâs out.
You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesnât feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words donât come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.
âYou didnât come back.â
Of course you hadnât.
Most people wouldnât have.
âNo. Iâve been⊠busy,â you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. âIâll visit soon, promise,â you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.
Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesnât move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.
âTonight?,â he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.
âItâs coldâ Iâll get sick,â you murmur. âHow did you even find me..?â
âI will keep you warm.â The question goes unanswered.
You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. Itâs not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.
Thereâs a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. Youâre soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that youâre there doesnât even hit you until youâre chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.
The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as youâre pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.
He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when youâre pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.
When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.
#könig x reader#konig x reader#könig x you#konig x you#könig#konig#cod fanfiction#cod fanfic#konig fanfiction#i have been mulling over this for an eternity sorry it needed to be extracted from my brain#he is absolutely more lycanthrope coded to me but whoosh whatever nix König be upon ye#also apologies to everyone for not writing much lately and the fact this is hardly a real fic#cursed by the sleepy i just need a 10yr long nap#<- in my âin denial about burnoutâ era
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Do yâall think Gavin ever suddenly gets hit with the weight of âforeverâ and what that means for him in relation to the people he loves?
Do you think heâs ever sitting on the couch with Freelancer, watching a mindless show, so completely at peace and happy when heâs suddenly struck with the absolute knowledge that this moment, that this life with them is a blink of an eye compared to whatâs awaiting him?
Do you think heâs ever at lunch with Damien and Huxley, laughing about some story theyâre squabbling over, and he can suddenly picture them at 70, bickering as a real, literal old married couple, and heâll still look exactly the way that he does in this moment?
Do you think heâs ever laying on Laskoâs couch while Laskoâs humming in the other room doing the dishes, so relaxed and close to sleep, when his gut twists with the absolute fact that when this room, this building, this country, this world this person that he loves is gone, he will still be there?
Do you think heâs ever staring into Freelancerâs eyes, so hungry for the sight of them that he canât savor it? Heâs too wrapped up in trying to memorize every fleck of color in those eyes because he knows that one day, many many years from now, he will forget what color they were.
Do you think he tries to force himself into engulfing himself in a moment, surrounded by his family, soaking in every sound and laugh and smile and touch because he knows that theyâll be gone before heâs ready, because he will never, ever be ready? Do you think heâs ever so focused on trying to take them all in that he misses the conversation entirely?
Do you think he ever wonders which one of them will die first?
Do you think his friends ever notice those moments that heâs⊠missing? That heâs wrapped up in something bigger than them, bigger than they can even understand?
Do you think Gavin, a very young daemon comparatively, also canât wrap his mind around âforeverâ because he hasnât even lived a single human lifetime yet?
And how long do you think itâll take him, after all of them are gone, to start forgetting them?
#redacted asmr#my redacted content#redacted gavin#redacted freelancer#redacted lasko#redacted damien#redacted huxley#lol#sorry yâall#feeling real philosophical rn#something something the curse of being an eternal creature in love with the finite#something something im worried about Gavin in the long run
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