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evilminji · 1 year ago

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You know how in Naruto, Sealing is a Finicky Art?

It's like computer coding, calligraphy, and symbolism had a super-powered/reality bending baby. You gotta think in VERY ADHD twirls and swirls too be any good at it. Which is why the Uzumaki rocked it so hard. But I digress.

Is Complexe AF.

Bends Reality and is EASY to fuck up.

Wanna bet? The BEST way to learn/use it? Is to copy already functioning examples? But Oh! How do you KNOW they are functioning? Safe? Well OBVIOUSLY, your Skilled At Seals teacher looks at it first! THEN gives it too you!

Using random seals you find in the dirt is how you get splattered across three different countryside in peices, after all. Possibly take out a nearly Town or two while your at it. No One Is THAT Dumb... RIGHT?

Enter Stage Right o/~☆ Humanity, Everybody! *polite, if strained, golf clapping*

They ABSOLUTELY Are!

Especially Ninja!

Ninja who, after fuckin MURDERING A WHOLE ASS VILLAGE OF SEALING MASTERS, decided to pick through the rubble! Because THAT is gonna work out GREAT! After all... it's not like you just KILLED the fuckers who could tell you what IS and IS NOT functional!

Was that once the "hazardous advanced class' sealing failures" bin? Or was it the "super awesome candy and rainbows" stash!? You don't know. NO ONE DOES NOW. You fuckin KILLED THE PEOPLE WHO DID.

They had their own REGIONAL Sealing Script.

You know, the one they taught to THEIR STUDENTS. Not outsiders. The students you KILLED, you absolute fuck nuggets. But hey! The threat of the Super Scary Sealing Masters is no more! Good job. You've successfully burned down the library. It can't hurt you ever again.

But NOW? You have piles upon piles of GIBBERISH.

You can only VAGUELY tell the novice seals from the master's. And even then? Do you have any idea what most of them DO? Nope. And after a certain point in training? The shaky, uncertain hand writing becomes smooth enough, that it all blends together in "Seals".

Now... what is the SMART thing to do?

Curse your hubris and the atrocities your fear allowed you to commit, obviously. But BEYOND that, Don't Touch Them. But we're Ninja. So WE are all suicidal idiots. The less smart but still Reasonably Precautionary thing to do? Study the amateur Seals. Learn Sealing from other masters.

Crack the Regional Script and slowly, painstakingly, work through each seal as we sort out what is and isn't safe. What can be salvaged. What can be used and how.

A process that will likely take years if not decades.

But of course, that's not GOOD ENOUGH for certain grabby handed, power hungry, short sighted, fuck weasels! No, no. It much EASIER to just throw human life into the blender until profit pops out! Completely IGNORING, of course, that SOME of these?

Could very well be the "Too Dangerous To Ever Use/Will Destroy Us All/Take Them All With Us" type of Seals that Kage usually LOCK UP. The kind you CAN'T destroy once you've made them, because the fall out would be WORSE. And?

Even if you are a murderous, middle management, go nowhere in your life, BASTARD of a ninja? Sometimes you can look down at the massive, intricately detailed, killer off nation's before you. Something that was WRAPPED in locks upon locks upon chains upon seals. And KNOW in your selfish, survival at all costs little heart... You DO NOT want anyone to fuck with this.

You CAN NOT let anyone fuck with this.

NO ONE can be allowed to touch it.

Not for ANYTHING.

You may fear S Class Kage and Missing Nin and what all else they may do to you. But THIS? Your eyes can't even properly FOCUS on it. It's like a tunnel that's lined with poetry, stretching all the way to the Earth's core. It's perfectly flat. It moves, a gentle rotation. But is that just your eyes, tricking you?

So much ink, it swallows the scroll, and this is when it's COMPRESSED.

How many nations?

How many NATIONS must this monstrosity span, when free?

It must have taken a Master decades, if not their entire life, to complete. Possibly a family, several generations. But... but gods it is a work of MADNESS. No wonder it was sealed. It speak, you... you THINK... of Death...

Of it's KING.

Something BEYOND the Shinigami. BEYOND Death and the Purelands.

Who the FUCK would try to summon something beyond GODS? Did they think they could control it? Chain it like the bijuu? You're so cold inside. Because you KNOW. You fucking KNOW, the ambitions and arrogance of those above you.

They'll think they can.

They won't listen.

You... you have to take this and RUN. You stand no chance. But no chance is better then oblivion. Anything is better then standing by and watching it happen.

You obviously don't make it. You never expected too. But at least... at least you won't have to watch whatever THAT is... arrive... fuck...

At least you TRIED.

And? Because leaf Ninja, specifically certain teams, have the MOST Shit luck imaginable? They arrive, having crossed paths with several other teams, on the way back home (yay! Warm food and real beds!) Just in time to see a desperate looking ninja from one of the small villages get fuckin pincushioned. Drop what is VERY clearly an Uzushio Scroll of considerable size and SEVERE SSS+ DO Not EVER Touch Grade Type Markings, and then some joining from that same village go to grab it.

Notice them.

You know... the multiple LEAF NINJA. Who TOO THIS DAY, wear the UZU swirl on their uniforms as a mourning tribute to the DEAR AND PRECIOUS ALLIES they could not save. The Uzushio Allies. Those ones. The ones that were, in fact, from Uzushio.

LIKE THE SCROLL YOU ARE HOLDING.

By the WAY! How DID you get that Scroll? Doesn't seem like something our dear friends would just HAND over, now does it? You didn't happen to LOOT THEIR FUCKIN GRAVES did you? Cause we sure would be MAD about that!

Real Mad.

Dude obviously panics. Because that? That is a VERY pissed off bunch of Ninja, many in the bingo book, one of whom is Very Clearly throwing off BIJUU CHAKRA. And just said "my family's" Ha ha... Oh Shit that's an Uzumaki.

So he decides to USE THE SEAL.

What does it do?

He doesn't know! But it's probably SOMETHING big and impressive, right?

Yes. :) Yes it Does.

*Crack*

The SKY cracks. Like a pane of glass, struck by a hammer. Spiderwebbing as far as the eye can see above them, all from one central point, directly above the seal. The cracks there are concentrated. A point of impact. And through the cracks... something GREEN shines.

Brighter then the daylight around it, yet darker in color then the blue of the sky. Lazily whisping out like escaping mist. Time seems slow as their eyes all whip up wards. Even with senses beyond the normal human base, it is... inconceivable. SOMETHING winds back. They can not see it.

But they can feel it.

Like changing pressure as a storm rolls in.

*Crack!*

Green overtakes the blue. The sky a Kaleidescape of shards, held together by stubbornness alone. Reflecting a calm day that seems IMPOSSIBLE in the face of what's occurring. There should be wind. Great pressure changes in the face of so much FORCE, but the trees are eerily still.. utterly silent..

Nothing dares bring attention to itself.

Some distant part of their minds try to gather the thought that... that it could be an illusion. They... they should check. But they can FEEL it. Like a weight draped gently but without mercy upon their shoulders. It did not slam. But... but they can not move. Can barely breathe. It is beyond killing intent.

It is simply...

DEATH.

*CRASH!*

At last, the sky gives way. A fist, the size of towers punching through. It... it is almost elegant. A ring, almost in the shinigami's visage, wraps itself in a howling and snarled menace, around a great shining finger. A glove protects almost delicate looking, claw tipped fingers. The fist pulls back. Shard of sky falling, Floating, suspended in their moment of destruction, a glittering frame for the gapping wound that has overtaken everything.

Death...

Death has Green Eyes.

A crown of ice and starlight, pulled straight from the coldest north, hair that drifts like the drowned. His skin is that of a corpse. His breath a coldness that seems to suck all warmth from the world. There is no rage, no great irritation, his face merely twisted in slight annoyance. Mild displeasure.

And yet it feels like their greatest sin.

It BURNS.

They are ants. Less then ants. He... He LOOMS so TALL. The Green BURNS into their eyes, into their veins, chokes their lungs. The silence stretches. Those great eyes, the eyes of a GOD, move from them. To the man with the Seal.

He dies instantly.

Shit.

They... they need to... to...

Naruto wanders over and picks up the scroll, completely ignore the Giant Sky God Of Death and how all his friends are frozen in primordial fear. He roughly shakes the dirt off the delicate old relic, then squint at it. Figures he's holding it upside-down. Flipping it, he squints harder. Tilts his head and hums.

"Oh!"

He holds his hand up, turning to look at the terrifying Deity From Beyond Comprehension.

"It's me! I'm the Uzumaki! But, uh, I didn't actually summon you? Our stuff got stolen. Which really sucks!" He looks down again, brings the paper nearly to his nose trying to make out some thing. "Uuuuuh, huh. Got it! Can you get smaller? I don't got any BBQ or anything ON me right now, but Choji's Family makes REALLY good food! We can go out to eat? Ooh ooh! Maybe RAMEN! You like Ramen, right?!"

"Yep, Definitely one of Shouta's."

Rumbles The Actual Fucking King Of Death, shaking the trees and ground under your feet. As you probably stare at your fellow Leaf Nin like WTF.

"Sure, man. Give me a second."

And suddenly? He's leaning forward. Shrinking and twisting in ways that are painful to look at. The sky is... is not healing, so much as UNcracking. Rewinding itself to a pristine state. Until only a large, floating, armored God in black and white floats above you. Glowing.

One that... that is apparently FRIENDS with the Uzumaki Clan.

Because of course he is.

Naruto's introducing his Toads. And teammates. You almost feel bad for Hatake. But like? Better you then me, buddy. THEN? Death? Decides? For some inconceivable reason. "You know what? Im'ma just turn into a human WITH NO CHAKRA NETWORK. Reeeeeally freak out the locals."

And now Leaf is INCHARGE of entertaining A GOD until he decides to leave.

Or (presumably) Else.

And!! Because life loves to kick ninjas IN THE BALLS (for their stupid, STUPID life choices, YOU FUCKERS) it just HAD to be the One God? That can SEE DEAD PEOPLE. Because it's not like ninjas have Death Related Traumas or anything!

*internal ninja screaming*

Feed the guy some BBQ! Stat! Please Akimichi! Save us!

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

#dpxnaruto #naruto prompt #dp prompt #dpxnaruto prompt #narutoxdp #whoops we summoned a ghost king!#but dont worry #UZU accidentally did that TONS #he just asks for food then leaves #cool guy #thats why were are all chakra beasts and also probably ghosts now!#naruto is like?#new frien?#new frien!#no hes not asking #minji's writing

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willowser · 9 months ago

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you know gojo satoru as a friend of a friend.

you hear more than you think you should about him, given that he's not really your friend, but that's all just chalked up to him being gojo satoru.

you hear conflicting things. some say he's a playboy and some say he's the biggest virgin on the planet. some say he's rich only from family money and some say he's been the most important part of the gojo business since it began. some say he's so fake that it's frightening, and some say he wouldn't hurt a fly.

it's enough to kind of ward you off a little bit, how much is said about him. whenever he pops into your thoughts, you always end them with a shake of your head, a "i really don't have time for that kind of drama in my life".

he disappears for a little while. you notice and you don't. parties and dinners without him are less chaotic, but not as memorable. the gift exchanges you do with your friends are, as much as you hate to say, lackluster. you're not invited to any weird, big events anymore—like some celebrity birthday or fashion shows or black tie silent auctions—even though you never went before; the tickets would just sit on your dresser until the ink faded and lost color, and now you don't have any.

you never ask, because you don't know who to. he and suguru weren't talking before he left, anyway, for reasons that you're too far removed to get the scoop on. you know of the students he mentors but you don't know them, actually, and you think the little mauve-haired one would have the answer, but you can't commit to the awkwardness of asking him. after a few weeks, his cousin disappears, too—a quiet boy with a sad look in his eyes, who has only ever been kind to you.

you run into him by chance, at an ice cream shop of all places.

his hair is not styled, flat and a bit dull against his head, and his eyes aren't as bright as you think you remember them being. but it's hard to tell. that makes you feel bad, and so you stop trying to find all the little ways he's changed—because if you want to know so bad, why don't you man up and ask?

he looks tired and his smile doesn't dimple, but it stretches thin across his face regardless when you say hello to him. something about his smell is off, too. expensive but not in a sharp, cologne way, but a sterile, clinical way. he knows your name and when he says it, his voice rasps, like he's been asleep for a long time. you don't know what any of it means, but it alarms you in an instinctive way, like how you know when someone is hurting and just needs a bit of kindness.

yuuta comes from around the corner while you make small talk, but he gives gojo his space. shoots him a small thumbs-up that is returned.

you've both been standing in the corner for an amount time that doesn't match the distant relationship you have, but leaving him now feels like abandonment. you never realized how much he towers over you. you never realized how much he joked until he doesn't.

you realize you don't have any of your own opinions of him, of satoru. only ones that have been fed to you.

you decide to start forming your own.

"i feel like," you reach behind him for the counter, for a spoon. the little cup of ice cream in his hand is melting because you've been talking for too long. "i haven't seen you in a long time."

he doesn't say anything when you scoop up a little and hold it to his lips. you don't know if you're being offensive or weird because you don't have any sort of threshold with him, but there's only one way to get one.

the first thing you really truly feel about him is that maybe he needs a little more help than anyone realized. maybe that's where he's been.

eventually some life comes back to his face, and he takes the bite you're offering. "yeah," he agrees, and when his eyes shift towards the window, the sun shining through makes them seem translucent. "i didn't feel like myself for a while."

"well, do you now?"

"i think so," he eyes shift towards yuuta, who smiles reflexively, a bit shy, when you glance at him. "i hope so."

you turn back to him and take your own bite of his ice cream—a rather large one, too, since it's melting—before saying, "yeah, me too."

and you still don't know what's right or wrong in his eyes, but he smiles, dimpled, and you think you're finding your footing.

#i dont know what this is okay love you byeeeee #actually tbh i just enjoy trying to fit canon atmosphere into modern settings that's what this is LOL #✿ thoughts: gojo

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chaosgremlinmunson · 7 months ago

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Soul-Searching

For @steddie-week July 4: body swap

Steve wakes up slowly, he's so comfortable and is surrounded by luxurious silk sheets, a million pillows, and a cool dark room. He blinks for a moment thinking maybe he's still asleep, maybe this is still a dream. His overworked mind thinking of the height of luxury instead of his flat above the coffee-shop he manages working odd hours and barely sleeping. He's making it, but just barely, were it not for Claudia and Dustin Henderson and the casseroles sent weekly he's sure he'd be malnourished. I mean, food or bills? Well, he can get a few tiny staples, but the bills need paid or it's sleeping in his tiny car, the Beemer having been sold out from under him at 19 when he finally told his father he wasn't going to work for him, he was queer, and he was going to find his own way if they couldn't accept him. The fight that ensued insured he'd never be considered a Harrington again, oh he could keep his last name, but make no mistake, that was the day Richard and Diane Harrington's son died. So here he was hallucinating a life he could only dream of, he raised a hand to wipe at his eyes and noticed the ink littering his skin. Black nail polish, and as he sat up long dark curls cascading over his shoulders and face. He rose immediately searching through the dark for a light switch and then spinning to find a mirror only to see the front man of Corroded Coffin staring back at him. He gaped at his reflection turning this way and that, his eyes roving over the body before him before landing on the bare hips in the mirror. To his left the phone rang, and he launched himself over the bed to retrieve it.

“Hello?” He said quietly.

“Hey, yeah, hi.” His voice said back, what the fuck, his voice? How? “So, uh, it seems like I'm either hallucinating, or, and hear me out, I body swapped with whoever you are. I'm um, standing in your…. apartment I guess you'd call it, and uh, honestly I have no idea what to do here man. But, I have a sold out concert in two days and I kinda need my body back to go perform. No offense, I'm sure you're really nice and talented and all, but I, just..” the voice trailed off, he could hear the nerves in his own voice.

“Yeah, uh, not hallucinating. And I'd prefer to give you your body back too. It's a nice body and all, but I am so not equipped to be a metal singer man, I can barely listen to it without getting migraines. Tell you what, are you in Indy? I haven't left your…home? Yet or anything, actually I haven't even found where you have your clothes at, and I'd prefer to have some semblance of clothes on. But maybe you could come to where you live and we can talk?”

“Yeah, yep, that uh, that sounds good. You fell asleep in jeans and tee so I'll just come by in this, and oh your keys were in your pocket. Cool, what kinda car do I look for?”

“It's a small white car just outside the coffee shop downstairs. If anyone tries to stop you just say you have a family emergency and will call them later.”

“Sounds good, uh if they try to stop me what name do I answer to if called?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Steve, my name is Steve. “

“Sounds good Stevie, I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Steve hung up the phone when the dial tone started and looked around, he noticed a door painted black with a red dragon and decided to open it, he was greeted by an immense collection of black clothes and pulled out the first things he saw, on the table next to it there was a dish with some scrunchies and hair ties, he chose a silk one to tie up the curls after finger combing them carefully. Once he was done with that he made his way downstairs wandering until he found the front door, a small bench sat next to it with boots and other shoes lined up carefully and he sat, waiting.

Before he knew it a knock came to the front door and he opened it to see his own face looking at him wide eyed.

“This is real then.” He watched his mouth say, he nodded and swallowed.

“Hi, Eddie. I want so badly to say it's nice to meet you, but uh, every time I've thought about meeting you it was more running into you, or maybe going to a concert with my ear protection but having the backstage passes to meet the band, flirting and then…well. Anyway, ahem, why don't uh you show me where your coffee is and we can brainstorm how to change us back?”

Eddie led him into the kitchen and he sat on a bar stool while he flitted around making them some coffee. They started talking, it lasted for hours and finally Eddie looked at him for a moment, and then took a deep breath.

“Okay, I want to try something, and if it doesn't work please don't punch me.” He began, and leaned over to pull Steve into a kiss who immediately saw stars behind his eyelids and melted into the embrace. Either this kiss was world shattering, or the cosmos conspired to find Steve a boyfriend. Eventually they pulled apart both panting and slowly opened their eyes. Steve found himself looking at the rockstar now and giggled.

“It worked.” He whispered. “You're you again, and I'm me.”

“That it did sweetheart. I know this seems fast, but do you want to maybe go on a date with me? I don't think I'm going to forget you anytime soon.”

“I'll go on all the dates with you Eddie Munson.” And Steve pulled him back into a sweet passionate kiss.

They would spend the next weeks and months getting to know each other, but they felt as though they'd known each other in every life, for eons. Fate brought them together and they fell hopelessly, emphatically in love.

#steddie week 2024 #body swap #stranger things #steddie #rockstar eddie munson #some guy steve harrington #alternate universe #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #fanfiction

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dreaming-of-lu · 10 months ago

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cause it's me birfday eue decided to spoil myself with the soulmates au. A special surprise at the end 👀

Time

Normally, one would scream at the sight of a vast, wide open field of grass rather than their room being the first sight to see when waking up,

"Did I fucking die?" instead was the first thing that came out of your mouth. The wind was cool against your skin, lightly ruffling your bed mess hair. Miles around was knee high grass, no trees or civilization around. Just the green grass of mother earth and the blue skies with clouds that looked straight out of Ghibli movie.

"I died, didn't I?"

"I wouldn't necessarily say that-" a short yelp left your lips at the sudden voice appearing next to your ear. You scrambled back in shock, stumbling over yourself to get away from the mysterious, possibly stranger danger. Your eyes landed on the man that somehow happened to quietly sneak up on you, your words caught in your throat at the sight of him.

Long pointy ears, shoulder-length blonde hair, red and blue markings that framed his face, low brows lightly furrowed and...his right eye is shut due to a scar overlining it. Though his remaining eye made your breath hitched due to how blue it was,

"Yeah, I'm dead."

A soft snort left him before clearing his throat, "I promise you aren't, what is your name?"

"I-," you made a face at him, "why should I trust you?"

He lift his hand, pinching his arm that made your own sting, "Ow!"

"Because I am your soulmate."

First

The night seemed endless due to how long it was dragging on. With the ailed fragments of sleep begging for him to close his eyes, yet they held wide open to the stars of the night.

'Can't sleep, handsome?' their voice was like warm water drifting around him in a bath after a long day of hard work. A pleased, tired sigh left his lips, making his muscles eased from the tension his body felt. He weakly smiles to himself,

'Not without you by my side, that is.' The light snort that they gave him had his smile become more genuine, and heart pounding against his chest. The soft flush of heat burned his cheeks and neck as they softly laughed at his comment,

'Ever so the heartbreaker, my love,' they lightly teased.

'Maybe to others,' he huffs, 'though to you, my sweet, I shall carry it carefully as if it's a precious gem throughout the land, even when I meet you. It'll still be beside me.'

It's suddenly quiet, causing him to worry and flustered that he might've said something wrong to them. Only to hear a soft sniffle, 'That's...that's the sweetest, sappiest thing any one had said to me. You're too cute.'

His ears wiggled in delight. Goddesses, he felt like a school girl due to how giddy and mushy he felt, 'I'll shower you in them till you melt in them, my heart.'

They tearfully laughed, 'Okay, sap bucket, try and get some sleep, hmm?'

'Stay with me until I do?'

'Always, my darling.'

Drac

"Why this?" You blinked up from your book at the platinum blonde that took his place next to you on the sofa in the parlor room. He wasn't wearing the normal day to day werewolf shawl, instead, fortaking the shawl and adventuring attire to comfortable clothes to lounge around in. It seemed Aryll was put to sleep easily, since her moans and groans of pain used to distill the air of the house they both reside in.

The chain soft snores in the other room was definitely one to be jealous of due to how easily they knocked out. Though, you can't bring yourself to be angry too much, since the beds were soft enough to ease any ailments they might've felt throughout the day.

You shut the book, placing it aside on the table next to the sofa before turning your attention to him, "why what? did something happen?"

He gives you a flat look, grumbling lightly as he rolled his left sleeve to reveal dark ink marked upon his pale skin. He nods his head to it, "we share the same marks."

You stared wide eyed at the ink that lined his thick forearm; vines rolled around in swirls, flowers with fairies splattered here and there. The same picture that lined your own,

"I-I uhm-"

"While I don't mind the pretty ink, however, getting side eyed for it is not one that I want to deal with," He raised a brow at the shock silence that overcame your form.

"I...I think we're...yanno...soulmates?" you give him a sheepish look, grimacing when his stare hardens.

"...Well, that explains it," he leans backwards in the seat, "...could've chose a different place for it though."

"Asshole," you puffed, "I wanted something pretty to make me feel a little more confident and-"

You squeaked when his hand cupped your chin, he carefully maneuver you in laying position. His other hand came right down next to your head as his body hovered over you, he lowered his face, letting his lips ghost against yours. Gosh, was his eyes always this intense?

He smirked, "is this your way of saying we're married?"

"...you ass."

He snickers.

#.bea's writing #lu x reader #linked universe x reader #link x reader #lu time x reader #lu first x reader #linksona x reader #linksona drac x reader #soulmates au

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mermaidgirl30 · 1 year ago

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✨Love Amidst The Blue Part 1: Discovering the Siren✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: Welcome to my little mermaid au world featuring sailor! Joel 💙 I hope you enjoy this story I put together, and please tell me what you think! Comments and reblogs always appreciated and thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for reading over this and giving me suggestions! 🥰

Summary: Joel sets out on the Tyrrhenian Sea with his crew in search for hidden treasure. What he doesn’t know is that he’ll meet a beautiful mermaid that will turn his world upside down. Will he win her over or will he introduce a long ago foe to the mermaids of the hidden underwater city of Capri?

Pairing: sailor! Joel x mermaid fem! reader

Word Count: 9.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: Longing, feelings, eventual smut, Joel discovers a mermaid, mermaids try to drown Joel, slight angst

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

The crystal blue water of the Tyrrhenian Sea is calm, the wind gently blowing the sails of the Deep Blue Oasis as it rocks back and forth slowly. That was the name of Joel’s boat, one of his most prized possessions. A gateway to the unknown where he could clear his mind and get lost on the aqua ocean tides that have called to him for as long as he could remember.

A call to the side of him that loves history , ancient things, and to the treasure hunter in himself. He spent countless days out on the tides of the sea, always looking for hidden treasures that may be hiding under the deep blue water. His scattered map was marked with red inked circles and x’s of areas where there was said to be lost treasures down below. He swore to his father he’d find them one day and make him proud.

Joel’s father was a wealthy businessman, always focused on the clients in Italy and making a fortune of his own. Joel didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. He wanted to be out on the sea, out where the ocean breeze could ruffle through his curly locks and carry him into the unknown. He always loved the water and the salty sea air, always wanted to become a sailor to travel the world. His father never approved of it, though. He said it was a waste of time and money, until that dark day that he passed away. His last dying breath was him telling Joel to buy a big boat and sail. Make me proud, son. Follow your dream. Those words still haunt him to this day, the few words he begged his father to say his entire life. So on his thirtieth birthday, that’s exactly what he did.

Five years later Joel had his own boat, his own crew, his own freedom to do as he pleased. His crew wasn’t the most trustful men, but they earned his trust little by little. He befriended some filthy pirates on one of his sea explorations a couple of years ago. At first they threatened him, but he was smart and talked them out of stealing from him and taking over his boat. He offered them so much money that they couldn’t refuse. They agreed to work for him and show him parts of the sea that he’d never been to. Sure, they had their flaws and their bad habits, but he couldn’t do this without them. So he decided to give them a chance.

Joel unfolds his large map of the area and lays it out flat on the side of the railings, studying the area like he knows exactly where he’s headed to. He rolls up his white cotton sleeves and traces lines of the faded map, mapping out this specific area with the tip of his finger.

“Captain Miller, the boys think it’s in this area,” Jasper voices over the blowing breeze, making Joel stop to look up from his marked map.

“What is?” he asks with a raised brow.

“The hidden underwater city of Capri,” Jasper says with excitement in his flushed swampy eyes. His linens are tattered, his blonde hair outgrown and unkempt, his crooked smile waning up at Joel as mischief plays in his scattered mind.

“I thought that was just a folktale? The underwater city. People have searched for years and found nothing. What makes you so sure this place is here?” Joel asks with narrowed dark eyes, waiting for an honest answer from his so-called pirate friend.

“Mermaids, cap’n. They’re here in this area,” Jasper says with the gleam of his eye, sure of himself as much as he’s sure of how to sail this boat.

“Mermaids…” Joel questions, flicking his eyes out to the blue tides as the water gently laps at the large rocks in the water. “I’ve never seen a mermaid, Jas. Only seen them in some old books in my study. As far as I’m concerned, they aren’t here.”

Joel starts to turn around, but Jasper catches his arm. “I swear on my life, mate. They're as real as you and me. Seen one with my own eyes. Not long ago either. Beautiful creatures they are, their siren songs able to hypnotize anyone who dares to look them in the eyes. Saw one drown one of my men before. Grabbed him by the arm and pulled him under with her song. He was never seen again,” he says with sad eyes, looking out into the bright horizon as seagulls and pelicans flock the sunny sky.

Joel ticks his jaw and looks out amongst the miles and miles of open ocean, only seeing the lapping waves as they hit the bottom of the boat. “Jasper, I’m gonna have to see one with my own eyes to believe it. Maybe it was sun poison that made you see things.”

“It wasn’t sun poison, Joel! If you won’t believe me, then I pray one day you do see one. Am I one to lie?” he asks with a heated stare and a hand on his grimy hip.

Joel knits his brows together and stares for a minute at the pirate that swears on his life he’s seen a mermaid. While Jasper doesn’t usually lie to Joel, he’s still a pirate. Still willing to lie and cheat his way around the system. But he’s also the most trustful of his crew, so he’s torn. Maybe it wasn’t a mermaid he saw, but maybe another sea creature. Yes. That’s what it must’ve been. Something else.

Joel puts a hand on Jasper’s shoulder and nods his head. “Sure, Jas. But let’s keep our eyes out for this.” Joel puts his index finger on the red x that’s marked right around the sea cave that sits a few hundred feet from the boat. Supposedly there was a ship wreck that happened years ago, and men have tried and failed to discover what great treasures were lost to the sea that day. Those who go in, never come out. Joel would find out, though. One way or another he’d discover the secret of what happened so many years ago.

“Go on and have the men anchor the boat. Wanna stay here overnight and see if we can find anything.”

Jasper nods his head and huffs out a breath. “Yes, cap’n. Right away.” He turns and yells at the men to hoist the anchor and get ready to search the area.

Joel folds the map back up and places it in the pocket of his tan trousers. He sighs and looks out at the massive sea cave, watching the waves churn calmly against the rough rocks.

Mermaids. There couldn’t be any. He would’ve seen one before, would’ve remembered if he did. He lets his thoughts go back to the task at hand and clears his mind. No time to think of maybe’s and false folklore. It was time to find some treasure.

The water is crystal clear today, sunlight beaming through the long seaweed that sits tangled in the ocean. You swim your way past a pod of dolphins, waving hello to the newborn calves as they whistle out their greetings. You dive down hundreds of feet and hum your favorite lullaby. The one your mom used to sing you every night before you fell asleep in the comfy bed of a massive clam shell.

A school of colorful fish swim past you, and you smile up at them as you propel yourself faster to get to your favorite discrete area of the bay. You call it the moonlight sea cave because at night you can see the moon shine all the way through the entire cave system, even under the water. It’s beautiful, a place where you can go to think and relax.

You always have to sneak off to this area. Your sisters would never approve, and you shudder thinking how your father would react. How many times has he told you to never go up to the surface again? How many times had your sisters dragged you back home over the years? You couldn’t keep track, didn’t want to think about it.

After that awful day that happened so many years ago, you weren’t supposed to want to go back up to the surface. You weren’t supposed to look for treasure that humans always dropped off their boats, but you still did. And you definitely weren’t supposed to be this close to shore, but you were still quite a ways out. Your father would kill you if he found you swimming around these parts, but you chose to ignore his wishes like you always did.

You swim up to the surface and lift your face into the sunlight, breathing the fresh salty air as you inhale the warm breeze. You push your long hair over your shoulder and take a few strides through the water, floating in the waves as the salt water dries on your shoulders.

When you look up, you freeze as your blood runs cold. A boat, there’s a boat. It’s big, towering over the water as a crew of men work on casting nets and walk along the deck. You duck down in fear and hide behind a rock, hoping that they haven't seen you. You slowly peek your head around the corner and stop in your tracks when you see him. The most beautiful man you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

He’s tall, broad shouldered, and has the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. His hair is dark, tousled curls blowing in the wind as a few strands fall near his eyes. Brown, warm flecks coat his eyes. Eyes you could get lost in, eyes that you’d now dream about for days on end. And his arms. They’re strong, built, powerhouses that could take down a large man. The top buttons on his white cotton shirt are open, exposing tanned skin that must bathe in the sunlight on a regular basis.

You’re supposed to hate humans. You don’t trust them, you don’t think you could ever trust them again. But him… he looks like a walking dreamboat, a sailor you’d like to get to know. He doesn’t look like all the other ones, no. He looks kind, caring, maybe even dare you say trusting. But he’s a human, and you’re a mermaid. This can’t happen, this can’t ever happen.

Scar bumps your hip with his large fin as he makes a circle around you, warning you that you could be seen. “It’s okay, Scar. They can’t see me, I don’t think. It’s alright.”

He bumps you again with his snout and looks at you with his big black eyes, his dorsal fin coming just above the surface. He tells you to be careful, tells you he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. You only smile and brush your hand against his sandpaper like skin.

“I’m alright. Promise. Go on, I’ll be fine. Just gonna stay here for a few minutes,” you confirm. He huffs out a sigh and dives back down into the deep depths of the water, but he stays close. He always stays close. Who knew that a great white shark would be one of your best friends in the sea? They usually don’t want anything to do with mermaids, but you saved him that awful day that was full of bloodshed and death. And ever since then he never left your side. You were grateful for him. He was the best protector you ever had.

You stay there against the rock and lean your elbows up on it, continuing to watch the handsome man look over what looks like an old map of some sort. You lap your tail up and down in the water and lean your cheek against the rock, daydreaming of meeting the man with dark eyes.

He was going to get you in trouble, but you didn’t care. You’d risk your life just to get a chance to stare into the maps of his golden brown eyes.

Joel clings to the side of the boat as he digs his nails into the warm, polished wood. He turns his head to watch his crew stay busy on the deck as they bustle around and drag their worn out shoes against the floorboards. He sighs and takes another look at his intricate map, tracing his finger over every crevice of the parchment until he gets frustrated and throws his head up to look out on the bright horizon.

As soon as he looks up, he stops cold as he spots the gleam of a sparkling tail in the near distance. It’s not just a tail, there’s a girl leaning up against a rock that’s staring right back at him. He rubs his eyes to make sure it’s not the sun playing tricks on his mind, but she still appears there in the same spot just staring blankly at him. He sees a young woman who’s beautiful, dreamlike, something he only thought was a fantasy. He sees you, a mermaid…

Mermaids aren’t real, mermaids can’t be real. But how does he explain what he clearly sees now? You are very much real.

His ears ring with white noise, the sounds of his crew scrubbing along the deck nearly nonexistent now. It’s just you and him, staring at each other as if you’re the only two people out on the calm waters. It’s just the gentle breeze kissing his tanned skin and the distant noise of waves lapping against the rock that you so subtly lean against, eyes locking with each other as if the world crashes on its side to bring the two of you together.

He grabs his golden telescope, looking through the lense as you come into view just inches from his vision. The sight of you nearly knocks the breath out of him, his eyes widen as he takes in the beauty that sits before him. He thinks you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on, thinks you’re absolutely divine, a treasure that should be well cared for.

His eyes trail down your lush curves, taking in the dusty coral colored seashells that cover your breasts, scanning every inch of your shimmering tail that’s soft pink as it flicks back and forth against the water. It’s almost sparkling like diamonds, maybe even soft to the touch. He wonders what you feel like, what you sound like. He bets your voice is like an angel’s, captivating and melodic like nothing he’s ever heard on earth. He wonders what your hands feel like, how they’d feel entwined in his own.

You should swim away, dive back underneath the blue water, but you can’t move. You can’t look away from the handsome stranger. You want to know his name, want to ask him all about what land life is like, want to know if his voice is as soft as his tousled curls look, want to see him again and again…

“Cap’n, whatcha lookin’ at?” Jasper asks as he comes up to Joel and nearly sends him over the edge of the boat. Joel drops the telescope from his unsteady hand, and it lands in a heap on the wooden deck. He scrambles to pick it up, and when he stands up and looks back out at the rock he sees that you’re gone.

He huffs out a sigh and shakes his head slowly. “It was nothing, Jas. Just thought I saw something. Was only a dolphin, nothing else,” he says with a hint of sadness on his tongue, wishing you were still on the rock so he could look into your entrancing eyes.

“Too bad it wasn’t a mermaid. Could’ve made you a true believer,” Jasper laughs as he hits Joel on the back of the shoulder with more force than he meant to.

“Yeah, too bad…” Joel says quietly as he stares at the vacant rock, doing nothing for his peace of mind as he wishes you were still there.

When he turns away from the rock, he sets his eyes back on the folded out map and grabs it up, heading toward the rest of his crew as they send down row boats to go inspect the area.

Joel makes a promise to himself then. Tonight he’ll go out late at night and look for you, hoping you’ll hear his thoughts that he wants to see you again. He will see you again. That’s a promise he will surely keep.

Later that night, Joel tosses and turns in his cabin quarters underneath the boat. He can’t sleep, can’t think as he tosses and turns back and forth in his bed. He thinks of you, the way your tail shimmered in the glow of the sun, how your eyes called to him from the deck of the boat. He needs to see you again. He needs to talk to you.

He crawls out of the bed and throws on his leather boots, lacing them up as he climbs up the stairs and enters into the glow of the full moon as the stars sparkle in the sky. He tiptoes around drunken pirates that are passed out cold on the deck, snoring and limbs scattered about as he passes them carefully to not wake them.

He paces the upper deck, sliding his hands along the edge, searching and searching for any sign of moment in the water. He only sees the faint laps of water against the boat, sees nothing out of the ordinary. He starts to doubt himself, maybe he saw nothing. Maybe it really was the sun playing tricks on his brain. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He sighs and starts to turn around, until he hears a soft melody carrying through the water. He turns around sharply and latches onto the wooden edge of the boat, eyes searching as he hears the sing-song voice start to come closer. It’s angelic, harmonious, nothing that he’d ever heard before. It sends him into a trance-like state, needing to find the owner of the beautiful song.

You wade through the water, flipping your tail as you hide behind the large rocks, singing the song of your people as you let your voice blow through the breeze, hoping he can hear you, hoping he’ll come.

Please, come. Come out to the sea, let me see your beautiful face.

You let your voice carry over the water, humming out melodic notes as you flip through the water. He has to come. He has to hear your voice, has to listen to you call him with your siren song. Come on, handsome sailor. Come find me.

You peek your head out from behind the rock and see him standing there on the deck, staring at you as his eyes go wide. You smile triumphantly as you duck back under the water, tempting him to come chase you.

Come get me, come get me. Find me under the water.

Joel wastes no time and lowers a wooden row boat to the water, climbing down a ladder as he jumps carefully onto the small boat as it rocks underneath his weight. He rows it out slowly to the middle of the water, searching his eyes every which way to find you.

“Where are you? Come out,” he whispers into the crisp night air.

He hears a splash to the left of him and throws his head in that direction. He sees small bubbles that form over the water, but there’s no sign of you. He sighs and pulls his eyes toward the rock and then he sees you.

He audibly gasps as you splash your tail and hide back behind the shelter of the big foundation in the water, nerves pulling in you as you’re so close to the human. The human with dark eyes and beautiful face. A human you want to meet.

He crawls to the edge of the little boat and places his hands on the edge, calling out to you in a deep voice that sends goosebumps down your arms. “Hey, come out. It’s alright, I won’t hurt you. Please, don’t hide,” he says, calmly holding out an arm as if he wants you to take it.

You peek your head out from behind the rock carefully and see him leaning against the boat, a little too close to the water. He doesn’t know what dangers lurk beneath him, what things would reach out and drag him under the water.

You shouldn’t go, shouldn’t talk to a human. Humans are bad, humans are cold, cruel, vial. They killed so many of your kind, tortured your friends of the sea. But him… Well, he looks kind. He looks… safe. Safe? Could humans be safe? No. Could they…

This was stupid and reckless. You start to turn back into the shadows until he calls out to you again. “Wait, please. Don’t go. Stay,” he pleads, his eyes searching yours with some kind of intensity and longing that you’ve never seen before. It frightens you more than the horrors humans have caused in your life.

Stay. The word wracks your brain over and over as it pulls at your insides.

Stay. He asked you to stay. You decide then that that’s exactly what you’ll do. You’ll stay. You’ll stay for him. You might regret it later, but for now this is what you wanted. What you needed to do.

You start to swim slowly over to him, diving under the water and breaching just inches from his wooden boat. You come up for air, realizing just how close you are to his face now. He’s so beautiful, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life.

His skin is tan, the sun bronzing him as he seems to spend days on end on the water. His shoulders are broad, so strong as your eyes trail down his thick arms, ropes of taut veins spread wide over his lower arms. His hands look strong, big, calloused from working on a boat. You bet they feel nice, would like to feel them pressed up against your face or maybe have them entwined with your fingers.

His dark, tousled curls kiss his forehead as stray curls fall over his skin. You have to stop yourself from reaching out your hand to push them back into place. You think it must feel so soft, so smooth…

And his eyes. God, his eyes. They’re deep brown, flecks of golden warmth sprawled across the crevices of his irises. They’re beautiful, deep, intricate as they study you carefully.

He digs his hands into the side of the boat and leans so far forward you’re afraid it may tip over. You make sure that it doesn’t because these waters are dangerous to humans, dangerous to men such as himself.

He looks at you with wide eyes, his lips parting as he takes in your features. He’s so close that he can make out details he couldn’t see up on the boat through the telescope. Like your eyes. He’d never seen such beautiful eyes such as yours. They glisten like the stars, almost as deep as the ocean itself, captivating and breathtaking.

He takes in your long hair that sits over your shoulders as you nervously run your hands through the damp strands. And then there’s your tail. That glittering, magnificent tail that almost looks too intricate to be real. He focuses on each shiny scale, watching the way the colors go from a deep pink to a lighter flamingo shade of coral. He wants so badly to reach his hand out to touch it, see how it feels underneath the weight of his calloused fingers.

Just one touch, that’s all he needs. One touch to make this dream a harsh reality as a mermaid sits right in front of him, right in his grasp.

You see the way he stares all transfixed and in a trancelike spell. You might be insane, but the first words fall from your lips without a hint of hesitation there. “Do you want to touch it?” you ask shyly, pulling back a lock of hair behind your ear as you position your tail so it’s sitting out of the water, just inches from his waiting hand.

“What?” he asks surprised, eyes wider than the full moon in the clear night sky.

“My tail. Do you want to touch it?” you ask again with more courage this time, flicking your tail above the water as you entice him to go on.

“Oh-uh… yes,” he whispers out as he slowly but steadily reaches his arm out, ever so carefully extending his fingers as they brush over the side of your tail.

He gasps as his fingers come in contact with the shiny scales, like the breath has been knocked clear out of him. It’s nothing like he imagined it’d be. It’s softer than he thought possible, smooth as he glides his fingers underneath the cold water.

You almost stop breathing as you feel his fingers explore the magnificent scales on your long tail, almost sigh at the contact of his skin. No one had ever touched you quite like this, even if it was just the brush of fingertips. It feels… good. And you want more, need more.

He pulls his hand back out of the water, and you almost whine as you lose the contact of his fingers. You’d let him touch you again, let him marvel your tail all night if he wanted to. It was silly really, how attracted you were to him when you only just met him. He was just that beautiful, that mesmerizing. And for a moment you think he is the siren, not you.

“You’re a… you’re a…” he stutters, voice hoarse as he continues to stare at you with a starstruck gaze. He’d never seen a mermaid before, that much is certain.

“A mermaid?” you finish for him, almost giggling at his gaping stare.

“Yes,” he says in disbelief, nodding his head up and down. “I didn’t know you, mermaids existed,” he says with a look that says everything you need to know. He’s harmless, not here to hurt you.

“Well, we’re very much real. We’re just discrete, careful. We don’t really come up to the surface, not anymore,” you say quietly, shaking away the memories of distant screams and bloodshed that once was long ago. The memories are too painful to relive, so you lock them out of your mind and try to forget every day that you exist in a world that did that to your kind.

He doesn’t ask about the distant sadness in your eyes, you just smile and clear your eyes as you continue to gaze up at him curiously.

“What’s your name?” he asks slowly, eyes never leaving yours as you let your name slip past your tongue. You drop it carefully, giving him information that seems too personal, but you’re in too deep now. You want to know about him, and he clearly wants to know about you. So you’ll let him in, even if that’s a bad idea. A very bad idea.

He repeats your name slowly, going over every syllable so carefully as it rolls off his lips effortlessly. It sounds beautiful the way he says it. You could lean against the edge of the boat and lay your head against your arm as you look up and hear him repeat your name over and over again. Almost like a lullaby as it could put you to sleep with how deep and mesmerizing his smooth voice sounds.

“My name’s Joel. Joel Miller,” he says with deep brown eyes looking down into yours.

You repeat the name over and over in your mind. Joel, Joel, Joel. It pulls at you, calls you as you hook your fingers around the edge of the small boat and feel his hand brush up against yours. You gasp and pull your hand back, feeling an electrical shock run through your entire arm at the connection of skin on skin with him. You’d never felt that before, that kind of connection with anyone. This was new, this was scary, this was dangerous.

He notices the panic in your eyes and puts his hands up calmly. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, darlin’. I’m not gonna hurt you. See?” he asks as he surrenders his hands, letting you know he means no harm.

Darlin’. The name sends warmth through your stomach as you mull over his words. I’m not gonna hurt you. You let those words be a promise as you cautiously put your hands back on the edge of the boat. He brings his hands back down, just enough where if you shift your fingers they’d brush up against his. But for now you stay like this, just enough to still feel that electricity deep in your body.

“Darling, what’s that?” you ask with a raised brow, not having heard the word before.

“You’ve never heard the word darlin’ before?” he asks as he knits his thick brows together, pulling at the seams of your heart.

You shake your head no as droplets of water trickle down your back. “No, guess I haven’t,” you say with an even breath.

“It’s just a term of endearment where I’m from. A nickname, you can say,” he answers, his hand moving just enough for him to brush the outer edge of your pinky finger. You suck in a breath and try not to get too flustered at the action.

“Oh, I see,” you say quietly. “Darlin’, I like that…”

You ponder over the name and ask something else in return. “Do you have any other nicknames you use?” you ask, biting your lip at the question as you wait patiently.

He twitches his jaw and looks you over carefully before he responds. “I mean, there’s a lot I could use, I suppose. Darlin’ just comes naturally to me, but you…” His soft brown eyes flick over yours slowly before he speaks again. “Sirena, yeah. I like that,” he smiles to himself as your lips curl up slowly.

“Sirena, hmmmm,” you hum to yourself. “I like that, but what does it mean?”

“It comes from a Greek word. It means siren or enchantress, which you are. You are quite enchanting,” he says with a gleam in his eyes, his words in a trancelike state as he stares into your eyes.

You gulp at the meaning, eyes fixed on his intently. He called you enchanting, he thinks you’re enchanting. It shouldn’t make you feel so much closer to him, it’s only a nickname, a silly name. But it does. It does.

When you don’t speak, he asks another question. “What’s it like out there? Under the water? To be able to breathe and see things I couldn’t quite imagine myself?” His brown eyes sink into yours, shifting his weight slightly as the wooden boat creaks underneath him.

“It’s the most amazing thing you could imagine,” you say enchanted, your tail grazing above the water as you spin up a small current underneath you. “Unearthly, exquisite. There’s truly nothing like being able to connect with nature, to be able to see the wonders of fathoms below that no human has seen before. It’s freeing, beautiful, amazing, but…”

Your voice cuts off at the last part, thinking about all the things you wish you knew about the real world outside the waters of your home. Something you always wanted to know ever since you could remember. A taste for knowledge of the outside world, the human world.

“But what?” he asks quietly, almost putting his hand on top of yours before you shy away and move your fingers out of his reach.

“I just… I just wonder what the human world is like sometimes. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I just have that deep fascination with things I don’t quite understand. I crave to know the history of the land, want to know what it’s like to touch actual sand out of the water. Want to know how a…. oh, what’s the word?” you wrack your brain for what seems like minutes until you think of the word you once saw on a picture in a book. “How a fire burns,” you say proudly after remembering the strange words.

“Maybe I can teach you a thing or two about the human world. If you teach me about the underwater world.”

You mull over the words, think of what you could be risking. You could expose too much, you could open up a can of worms that you couldn’t close. You could risk everything. But for him maybe it was worth the risk. You could trust him, right?

As if he can read your mind, he places a hand gently on top of yours and you gasp at the contact. His touch is so careful, so soft atop yours. You think you like it, a lot. “You can trust me, darlin’. I swear on my life, I won’t hurt you. Do you trust me?”

Do you trust me? The words ring through your head as you question the words yourself. Trust was a big deal, trust meant you were putting your own life on the line. But as you look into his soft brown eyes and see the genuine smile curled on his plush lips, you can’t help but lose yourself as you automatically nod and respond, “I trust you.”

His face is so close to yours, so close that if he leaned down just a little he could brush his lips against yours. It’s as if he can hear the wild beating of your heart as it beats like a pod of dolphins traveling as fast as lightning through the water. Your eyes gaze into his, begging him to sink his lips down to yours.

He reaches his hand out and traces the edge of your jawline slowly, intimately. You gasp at the feel of him, as his calloused fingers trail gently over your skin. It feels warm, safe, so very right like his hand was made to touch you, to know you. He sees you. He sees you.

Just when he’s about to lean down and give you what you desire, the boat suddenly flips over and Joel goes crashing into the water.

“Joel!” you scream as you dive down to retrieve him, but he’s not there where he should be. Where is he? You call his name again, search below the dark depths below, twist your way through the seaweed and look frantically around until you see what exactly happened.

Your eyes go wide, a scream escaping your mouth as you find two of your sisters holding him down below the water trying to drown him. He fights their grip, trying to hold his breath as he looks terrified of what’s happening. Your sisters just smile vindictively to each other as their aquamarine and deep purple tails flick against the water and draw their sharp nails into his arms.

“Stop!” you beg as you swim desperately up to them and try to grab his arms out of their reach. They back up just enough so you can’t quite grab him.

Cleo stands her grown and flashes her white incisors your way as her blue tail fans out behind her. “He’s a human! A man, for crying out loud! All men should die for what they did to us,” she spits out, a snarl deep on her flawless face as your other sister Marissa agrees with her.

“He’s different. Joel is different!” you plead, reaching your hand out again.

“Joel. You know him by name? Can you believe that, Cleo? He has a name. How thoughtful of our sister to learn such information of this beast,” she laughs sadistically as she yanks him under again.

You watch his eyes start to close, watch his breath gasp for air as he slowly fades from the light. You grow desperate, hasty as you swim with all your might to grab his arms out of your sisters’ grip.

“Please, he’s kind! Don’t do this. Don’t take this one!” you beg as tears start to pour from your eyes, landing against your cheeks as they float off into the unsteady waters.

Your sisters drop their hands, eyes wide at how desperate you’re acting over a human. But he’s not just a human, he’s different. This one is different.

They both watch you take his body against yours as you wrap your arms behind the backs of his arms and start to hoist him to the surface. They stop you before you breach atop the water, grabbing your slippery fin as they stop you from swimming any further.

“You better be careful, sister. You don’t know what danger you’re putting us in. Interacting with a man? You’re foolish, selfish. How do you think father will handle this?” Cleo asks with narrowed eyes that could kill a man with how sharp she’s staring.

“Don’t you dare tell him, Cleo. Just… let me go. Please,” you beg as you try to squirm out of her hold. “He’s going to die if you don’t!” you scream, eyes wide as his head slumps against your shoulder weightless, almost like he’s already dead. Panic consumes you at the mere thought of it.

“Go on, then,” she says with a snarky look. “I won’t tell him… yet. But be warned. If he does anything to sway my judgement and I mean anything, I’ll have no choice but to tell him,” she warns as Marissa spits in your direction.

Cleo finally releases your fin as you swim frantically up, up, up until you break the seal and breathe fresh air again. Joel doesn’t stir, doesn’t even seem to be breathing as his head still rests lazily against the crook of your neck.

You look around desperately for anything you can lay him on, needing to stir him awake somehow. You need to get him someplace dry.

“Joel, just hold on. You’ll be alright. Please, just hang on,” you cry out as you circle around frantically looking for anything you can use.

That’s when you see it, a large flat rock that lays above the water in the middle of the sea cave you always find yourself in. You push yourself forward in the water, making sure to keep his head above the stirring waves. You turn on your back and hold his body above yours as you propel your strong tail in the water, trying with all your might to get there faster.

He’s going to die and it’s all your fault. Why were you being so reckless? The words taunt your mind like your sisters’ glaring warnings. You can’t think about them now, the only thing you care about is getting Joel to wake up. He needs to breathe, he needs to wake up.

You drag his body up on the smooth rock and lay him flat on his back. He has no sign of breathing anywhere, his chest is still as dawn like the sun slowly rising in the horizon.

You try to shake his shoulders, try to rub at his sternum forcefully as if that’ll wake him up. Nothing happens. You try again, calling his name and shaking him, screaming for him to wake up. But again there’s no movement, no breath coming from his mouth.

You crash down on top of him and wrap your arms around his neck, letting a tear drop from your melancholy eyes as it falls against his still chest. You whimper out a pathetic sound that sounds like you’re choking on your own words. “Come back to me, Joel. Come back,” you plead, face still pressed against his hollow chest as you let another tear fall in his presence.

You feel cold, hard pressed, wounded as if someone just took a sharp stake to your chest. You shouldn’t feel like this, shouldn’t let yourself feel so much for a human who you barely know. But he was going to show you his world, was going to teach you everything you wanted to know, and you were going to show him your world. But that’s no more. He’s gone. He’s gone.

You let the falling tears dry up on his cotton white shirt where the buttons lay half opened to expose tanned skin, can feel just how broad and strong he is underneath your weight. And you wish he’d wake up, wish he’d open his soft brown eyes so you could sink into them, sing him a melody while he grazed his fingers gently against your face. You want it so bad, want him so bad. But it could never be now. Not anymore.

You let your hand fall to his chest and wrap your fingers around his damp white shirt. You start to hum out your favorite lullaby, a way to soothe you over against the hurt you feel in your chest now as it aches and twists like a knife in your gut. Singing has always been a way to make you feel braver, a way to drown out the sorrows of dark days. Your mother always said you had the most beautiful voice she’d ever heard, but she was also gone now. Gone on that awful, dark day where blood filled the waters of your home. Gone.

You push the thoughts away, continue singing your song as if this will make the situation better. You close your eyes and drown out the lapping waves with your voice, making sure it echoes off every corner in the open cave.

Just as you’re about to push yourself off him, you feel movement underneath you. Just a faint lurch beneath you until he’s turning on his side and coughing up water out of his lungs rapidly, spilling it all over the glossy rock as he tries to catch his breath from all the choking and coughing his body expels.

“Joel?!” you ask alarmed, your hand shooting up to his face as you caress the soft, patchy scruff against his jawline carefully.

He lays on his back again and slowly opens his eyes, placing his hand over yours as he calls your name softly, his words still laced with salt water that still burns the back of his throat, but he answers anyway. And your name out of his mouth sounds like the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“You’re alive?” you ask quietly, eyes wide as you stare down at him with your mouth parted open slightly.

“Thanks to you, I am,” he says with a nod up at you, his hand still lingering on top of yours as his calloused fingers send sparks down your arm. It’s electric, shocking as it blinds you with need.

You gulp but don’t say anything else, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Your voice,” he says nodding to you again, “I’ve never heard a voice quite as beautiful as yours. I thought I was in heaven for a second there, thought you were an angel.”

Beautiful? An angel? Oh.

“An angel? Not quite,” you giggle, dropping your hand from his face to rest on his broad chest.

He lifts his arm up slowly and hooks a piece of damp hair behind your ear, trailing his calloused fingers along your cheek as he stares at you with wide brown eyes. Eyes that make your insides turn to putty.

“You are an angel,” he nods, his lips curling up into a soft smile that could knock you back into the water.

He thinks you’re an angel…

“Oh,” is all you can say.

He looks at you like no one else has, looks at you like you’re the only girl in the world. He sees you for what you are, a siren, and yet he doesn’t run. He doesn’t run. He stays.

His lips look so soft, so plush that you think you’d like to feel them pressed up against yours. His eyes flick back and forth between your wanting eyes and your parted mouth, and you think he wants the same thing.

You start to drift toward him, closer and closer until you’re almost there, almost touching his lips. He reaches to cup the back of your head, steering you down, down until you’re barely a breath away from him.

Suddenly there’s a large splash in the water, and you jump apart from him as he sits up on his elbows and gazes out into the dark blue rippling water. He sees a large fin and goes ghost white as he takes in the long body of the great white shark that lurks around the area. His eyes go wide as he sinks against the cave wall behind him as if to hide from the creature of the deep.

“It’s alright,” you say calmly as you reach your arm under the shadow of the water and call the shark over to you. Joel’s chest rises and falls unsteadily as his eyes remain locked on the terrifying features of Scar.

“Your hand, get your hand out of the water,” Joel urges as he tries to pull you back, but you wave him off.

“Joel, it’s alright. He’s my friend.”

Scar circles back around and brushes his body up against your hand as you pet his back and let him disappear back under the water.

“You’re friends with a shark?” he asks surprised, eyes still peeled on the shadow that looms around the area.

“Mhm. I saved his life many years ago, and he’s never left my side since then. Kinda ironic how people misinterpret them. Sharks may look scary to the human eye, but they’re really peaceful creatures. If you just took a few minutes to really see them, you’d see they’re just trying to live peacefully in their home. They just want to survive like any of us do.”

Joel looks at you as if really hearing you for the first time. The way you talk about the ocean, about the creatures of the deep makes him feel things he’s never even thought of before. He thinks you’re beautiful, breathtaking, and so kind. So very kind…

“You’re really something out of a fairytale, aren’t you?” he asks with wonder in his voice, his brown eyes sinking into yours as he focuses on the warm smile you give him as you blush crimson.

“I guess you could say that, sailor?” you giggle out. “That’s what you are, right?”

“Yes,” he nods as he looks over at his boat that sits idle over the calm tides.

“Is that your boat?” you ask as your eyes wander over to the large vessel that sits in the water under sparkling stars. You flick your eyes over the sides, noticing the large blue flags that fly gently in the cool breeze and notice the words Deep Blue Oasis written in cursive letters that hang down the side.

“Yep, that’s my beauty. Been sailin’ on her for a few years now. Probably one of my favorite things ever. To be able to sail across the waters and explore areas I’ve never been to before. It’s all very… exciting.”

You watch the way his eyes light up the way he talks about the sea, watch the way his smile curls over his lips as he talks about his love for sailing. You think it’s hypnotizing, beautiful. You think he is beautiful.

“What are you doing around this part? Looking for something?” you ask as your eyebrows rise up, intrigued why he was staying around these parts.

“There was a ship that went down many years ago here. There’s all sorts of tales and rumors that some great treasure was lost here with the ship. And I want to find it,” he states excitedly.

A shipwreck many years ago? You think you know which one he’s talking about, like maybe it was that same night that all the bloodshed went down. The night you lost your mother to those bloodsucking humans…

He notices your eyes shift from lit up to cold irises, feels the dread that seems to take over your body for the moment. But then he’s cupping your chin and lifting your eyes up to his warm brown eyes, and you feel like you’ve made it safely back home.

“You alright, darlin’? You went away for a minute there,” he asks as his concerned eyes gaze into yours. You nod your head and let him continue to keep his hand on your skin. You’ll let him keep it there for as long as he wants.

You smile up at him and nod in response. “I’m okay, was just thinking about something,” you say with a daze to your tone, somber eyes coming back down to earth.

“Was there something specific you were looking for?” you ask as his fingers continue to trace down your skin. It feels like complete magic that holds you under a spell.

“Not really. You see, I kinda have a fascination with history. You should see my study. I have hundreds of books and ancient artifacts that I’ve found in the sea. You’d love it,” he says with a crooked smile splayed against his face. It makes a dimple form deep in his cheek, and it nearly takes your breath away.

His study sounds a lot like the secret cave you have deep underwater that’s full of human treasures that you’d collected over the years from lost ships and things thrown overboard from wasteful humans. It’s a little sanctuary for you, a place you can go to clear your mind and wonder just what it’d be like to walk on land. What it’d be like to have your own pair of legs. But you love the sea so much, you don’t think you’d ever want to leave. But for him, you might just follow him anywhere.

You sigh as you lean into his touch, wishing you could see just what he’s talking about. “I wish I could see it,” you say quietly, eyes trailing back to his doe eyes as he speaks again.

“Maybe someday you will.” And it sounds like a promise, like he will show you one day. But how? You have a tail, you can’t walk. Your home is in the ocean, not on land. But if you could find a way to do both then you would. There had to be a way.

“Maybe,” you say dreamlike as you dream of warm sand on your feet, walking hand in hand with him on the beach. A distant wish you so wanted to be true. But it wasn’t, and you had to deal with that.

You stay there another moment letting his calloused fingers run along your jawline as you watch his eyes settle in on your face. Before you get lost for too long, you pull out of his reach and sink back into the cool water.

“I guess I should get you back to your boat,” you say sadly, eyes averting from his as to not dwell on the beautiful flecks of mixed browns that you want to get lost in again and again until you can’t see anything but them anymore.

“Yeah, guess so,” he says quietly, a voice that screams for you to stay, but you can’t. He doesn’t belong here.

“Wait here,” you say before you take off to retrieve his small wooden boat that’ll take him safely back to dry ground.

As you wade through the water you get a sick sense that this can only end badly, but it was too late. You were already in too deep, and you already wanted to see him again. This was bad, so bad.

You turn over the toppled boat and throw the rows back inside, pulling it along as you drag it back to him safely. You place it against the rock he sits on and watch him climb in, situating himself as he takes the rows in his hands. Before he heads back to his large boat, he stops and stares at you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks quietly as the cool breeze blows a tousled curl against his forehead. Without thinking you reach up and push it back into place, feeling just how soft his hair really feels. He lets you, and it feels as soft as velvety moss.

You drop your hand back down and before you can, he grabs your wrist and stares deeply into your eyes, eliciting a gasp out of your mouth as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. You let him keep you there until you give him a clear answer.

You think of your options, think of what you might be risking if you see him again. Would your sisters try to drown him again, would he try to steal you away from the sea, would your father find out that you were meddling in human affairs? All of the questions were valid and unknown, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You wanted to see him again, needed to.

“Yes. Tomorrow night,” you say without any hesitation.

He nods his head and smiles down at you as he gently lets his fingers fall from your skin as your hand splashes back down underneath the water.

“Tomorrow it is then. See you later, Sirena.” The nickname falls off his tongue like a sweet melody that fills your ears. Sirena, enchantress, siren.

You watch him row back to his boat, watching the way his biceps bulge every time he pulls back on the rows. He looks a little like your own Prince Charming. A sailor that had captured your heart, and you weren’t willing to take it back. It was his now, as long as he wanted it.

He looks back at you before climbing up the steep ladder. He smiles gently your way and nods before turning back to the ladder and climbing up, disappearing from your view as he makes his way below the deck.

You sigh and rest your elbow against the glossy rock he was just sitting on minutes ago, daydreaming about those dreamy brown eyes and his smile that knocks the breath out of your chest.

Scar circles back around and comes up beside you, nudging you with his large snout as you gently pet the top of his head. “I know, Scar. I know. I’m in so much trouble.”

You sink back underneath the water and follow him back home, back to the kingdom of Capri where you belong. But you keep your mind locked on those sweet, syrupy eyes that you so desperately want to see again.

Joel was going to be your undoing.

Tags: (Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged) @janaispunk @amyispxnk @princesatracionera @vividispunk @keylimebeag @pedroswife69 @littlevenicebitch69 @poeticbarnes @tuquoquebrute @awkwardprovocateur @ayamenimthiriel @everythingiwanttoread @burntheedges @hc-geralt-23 @joelmillersblog @joelalorian @vivian-pascal @untamedheart81 @laurrrra @dugiioh @blueseastorm @pedrostories @morallyinept @vvitchesh3x @frannyzooey

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kitchenisking · 1 year ago

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It's January and the new year has started! I hope everyone had a great new year and that 2024 bring only good things our way! and please remember to leave a kudos and some love in the comments to our amazing writers in this amazing fandom! love you guys😘

Children's Tales by artemis69 - (Rating: G, Words: 4,690, sterek)

Be careful, little girl.

Don’t go causing troubles in Beacon Hills, little girl, because the Hales live there.

Keep away from Beacon Hills, little girl, or the Hales will destroy you.

-- Or: In a world where the Hales are alive and the protectors of the town of Beacon Hills, the humans politely fake ignorance of their not-really-human status, and they all live happily ever after.

Then Kate comes in.

Well.

Tries to.

in the waiting room by CoraRochester, ravenclawkward - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 29,753, sterek)

“So, uh,” Stiles said, peeling the crust away from his toast. It was barely darkened, smeared thickly with butter and orange marmalade, just like he always liked it. “I have tattoos, which is weird, because I’m like, clinically terrified of needles. Swooning, fainting, the whole nine yards.”

That made the corner of Derek’s mouth lift into something like a small smile before it quickly smoothed out flat and neutral again. “I know,” Derek said, lifting up his fork. Stiles looked at the back of Derek’s hand and saw it was dark with ink—an elaborate full moon, stark on Derek’s skin. “I did them.”

…

In which Stiles has amnesia and falls in love with his husband all over again.

Sweet Tooth by Spikedluv - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 24,866, sterek)

Derek Hale had returned to Beacon Hills and the ice cream place was reopening. “Best. Day. Ever,” Stiles told Scott.

Lessons in Humanity by exclamation - (Rating: Mature, Words: 40,234, sterek)

Fleeing from werewolves, Stiles comes face to face with Derek, a werewolf human in shape but animal in his mind. Stiles is terrified of being killed, but it seems Derek has decided Stiles would make a suitable mate. Unfortunately, his idea of a romantic gift is a dead animal on the doorstep. Stiles must help Derek remember what it is to be human... and figure out how to explain his new werewolf stalker to his dad.

Happiness is Effortless by clotpolesonly - (Rating: G, Words: 5,210, sterek)

Derek just wanted an excuse to run out on his date. A very public fight with the fiance he didn't know he had is not exactly what he was expecting, but he'll take it.

come with me by buckysharons - (Rating: Mature, Words: 2,657, sterek)

Derek turns his head to the loft door, messily shoving whatever he could into the large bag. He’d rearrange everything on his property in New York. In another loft, but one much nicer, one cleaned with his parents money.

There’s a slam of a door, a slam filled with so much anger it makes Derek jump, alarmed.

“You’re leaving?” Stiles roars. He’s not angry, no. He’s hurt. Derek could sense it on him and he had no idea why.

He puts on the brooding mask he always seemed to have on, but this time was different. Stiles could see right through him. Though something tells Derek that Stiles has been able to see through it for a while now.

“Why are you leaving?” Stiles continues, giving Derek no room for him to explain himself. He demands an answer. Like he’s done everything to deserve it.

Which he has.

“I can’t stay,” Derek says vaguely, swallowing.

Stiles didn’t- he couldn’t take that.

Next To You (You Tell Me What To Do) by mercury_caduceus - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6,175, sterek)

"Derek had barely noticed that he was still kneeling in a foot of water. His knees were sore and he was freezing but none of that mattered. Not now. Not when Boyd’s lifeless body was laying in front of him, his blood still on Derek’s hands. Cora was sobbing and clinging to Boyd, making his heart break even more. He hadn’t thought that was possible, Boyd had become one of his best friends and now he had killed him. He closed his eyes, he couldn’t keep looking at the body laying in front of him. Stiles hand on his shoulder was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart, but he knew he was about to snap." ---- Stiles helps Derek after Boyd dies.

After the Smoke Clears by sffan - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,062, sterek)

Stiles needs a peaceful space. Derek gives him what he needs.

Alchemy of Attraction by ravenclawkward, wanderingeyre - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 15,893, sterek)

Once the table is set up, Stiles picks up the box and starts pulling out beakers, a hot plate, some Erlenmeyer flasks, a bunsen burner, and a bunch of other equipment and laying them out on the table. The last things to come out of the box are sealed containers with labels.

Derek is starting to get a very bad feeling about this.

Frogs? by Itsreallyjustforresearch83 - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 10,694, sterek)

“Catching frogs? This far into the pack lands? I’ll give you five seconds to tell me the truth before I rip your throat out. What is it that you want?”

“YOU! Alright?! I want you!”

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #ficrec #fanfic #kitcheniskingficrecs

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imreadydollparts · 1 month ago

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When asked how I do something, I really can't answer. It's just something brain-wise that doesn't work out.

I've been asked a few times how I did these eyes:

I wasn't able to really tell people how even though they're rather simple.

I did just make another pair for my new-to-me Yo-Tenshi Yuki in a similar way because the glass eyes she came with are deformed and it was difficult to get her to look in one direction, and maybe I can write it out.... Were I better at explaining how I do things, I'd be a you-tuber. 😅

These are half acrylic, half UV resin.

It's critical that you work in a UV-free environment. The resin needs time to settle before being cured to get the right visual effect and you'll keep using the same exact batch of custom colored resin throughout, so you don't want it to cure prematurely.

My office has weird lights that don't produce any UV and blackout curtains so it's the perfect place.

I haven't tried this with different colors in the same eyes, but I bet it looks neat.

The eye base should have a shallow, flat iris indentation with walls that are straight up and down. A deeper indentation would probably work, too, but shallow is fine because the resin layer will be thin.

Probably any shape would work, not just round.

These are old D. Eye. Y. kits.

The first layer will be just something shiny but only in the middle. On the eyes shown above I used these oversized glitter hexies. They have a slight purple sheen when the light hits them just so. For Yuki's eyes I used metallic silver snowflake glitter, and you'll see how that looks different later.

This is optional, of course. I like the little bit of shine it gives and feel like it adds back some depth that's lost due to the indentation being shallow and flat.

Put a teeny blip of clear resin into the eye base, then your shiny, center it, and cure so it doesn't move around. Try not to get any resin on the top of that shiny piece because you'll need to adhere a pupil to it and it's easier if the surface you're sticking a pupil on is flat.

These eyes use one color of resin.

This is actually my leftover resin after I've cured it to clean up, but you'll want to mix a little UV resin with just enough colorant (resin dye, alcohol ink, etc.) so that it's still transparent but has an obvious color to it. It's a trial and error thing. I chose purple because the eyes she came with were purple.

I don't add any sparkle until after the next step because I feel like glitter in or visually over the pupil looks like dust or some sort of problem.

I have a pupil mold. If you're dexterous enough you can dab bits of this colored resin onto the sticky side of some packing or resin tape to make pupils, but make pupils with your colored resin.

After the pupils are molded you can add your sparkle to the remaining resin if you want.

Next you'd add just enough resin to the eye base over the shiny layer that you can see a bit of color (adjust for how much color you want), and it's important that you make sure the resin climbs the walls of the indentation. That's how you get that slightly darker line around the outside of the iris.

Do not fill the indentation or you won't get the visual effect of a darker line around the outside. It's a really thin layer of resin, just enough to apply your desired color. Give the resin time to settle so that the layer is even other than where it's clinging to the walls of the indentation.

Put in your pupils, center them, and cure.

At this point I decided I wanted to add a little sparkle to Yuki's eyes, but only a little because the metallic snowflakes are kind of intense...

To add a little sparkle at this point I mixed it into the resin then carefully applied the thinnest of thin layers only around the pupil, let it rest so it settles evenly, and cure.

Next is doming, which is done just like any other pair of resin eyes. Plop your resin on, let it's own surface tension create the dome you want, cure, and you're done. The UV resin I use is kind of thick with high surface tension which works great for doming.

So. Hope that uh...... Made sense.

Anyway, here are the eyes I just finished for Yuki with an extra piece of the snowflake glitter so you can see what I was talking about:

The pupils being a bit transparent lets light bounce off that shiny item in the back creating depth.

The metallic snowflake being in the back makes them really intense, which wasn't exactly what I was going for, but it's nice nonetheless.

Now I just need to get her (I decided she's a girl because she looks like a mini Mimi to me) a wig, clothes, and some wings since hers weren't included.

#doll eyes #bjd eyes

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daflangstlairde-art · 1 month ago

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"Extremophile" 3/4

Part 3 of ocean depths

Summary:

You drown every minute, every second, with every breath you take. You haven’t breathed for so, so long. The icy waters are inside you, deep, deep inside you. All you could ever feel is cold and colder. You haven’t seen the sun in... so... long. It was so far away from you that you couldn’t even picture it anymore. And here was the sun himself. Here was that gasp of air that burned. You’ve been so cold for so long, the warmth feels like death. — Alt summary: It's not easy but boy do I drag Killer (and everyone around him) kicking and screaming towards a healing arc

Chapter 3: "an orchid" 4293 words

—

Killer was bored. He was bored as hell. When wasn't he bored?

“Hey,” Dream greeted, with a small smile and a wave, “I guess I don't have anything to pass onto you today, so, I brought something of my own?”

Luckily there was a clown here to entertain him. What a delight.

“It’s also a bit of a... an apology gift?” Dream continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “Last time I was here, I... kind of freaked you out, and I didn't mean to,”

Killer shrugged. “Whatever,” he hadn't even bothered to stand up upon Dream’s arrival, why would he care about that?

“Right,” Dream strode over, holding out...

“...A russian nesting doll,” Killer deadpanned, though he did take the object to inspect it.

(Pointedly avoiding even the smallest point of physical contact with Dream. Not even a brush of their fingers.)

“Yeah! I– Night told me about... your conversation, and... I agree with him,” Dream said. “Oh! Ink helped me paint it!”

It was customized. As Killer opened it up, all the dolls had black eyes and a replica of his soul painted on. He snorted. This felt like mockery, honestly. And the thought of Dream of all people being a bully was very funny.

It was made from hard wood. Killer discovered this as he tried to crush one of the pieces with a hand and it didn't buckle. Shame. It would've been fun to watch Dream hide away the hurt that would've caused.

“Well now that that’s out the way,” Killer stored the thing in his inventory, pushing himself to his feet. Dream stepped back to give him space. Or maybe he was (justifiably) scared that Killer would attack him again (he might). “Take me to– ugh, Underfell,”

Dream blinked, confused at the changed topic.

“Where Dust is,” Killer clarified for him. “I’m sick of this place,”

Dream paused. Then, his expression brightened with a grin like a sunrise, though what that was for, Killer hadn't a clue.

“Yes!” Dream exclaimed. “I mean– of course I can,”

And in barely a few minutes, they were in Dust’s Underfell with Dream knocking at the door. Killer mimed rolling his eyes.

It was some time late in the afternoon. There was the sound of several locks being undone, and then the door opening.

Red regarded them with a flat look.

“What,” he asked.

“Hello!” Dream greeted.

“Hi?”

“Here for Dust,” Killer cut in, directly to the point.

“Right,” Red turned to the inside of the house. “EY DUST BUNNY! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!” he yelled. Killer snorted.

Dust appeared in the space next to him, a hand on Red’s shoulder. Already prepared with a glower, but it eased up when he saw them. Probably because of Dream’s presence.

...Except he pushed Dream away. And stepped toward Killer. And put an arm around his shoulders, punching him in the sternum with no harmful intent behind the action. You could even call it friendly.

“Finally decided to stop sulking?” he teased.

...What.

Since when was Dust so damn touchy? Since when was he... what, affectionate? What the hell did this place do to him? Wasn't this Universe supposed to be, you know, rough around the edges or something? Violent? What?

“I don't sulk,” Killer shoved him in return.

“Sure, and I've never killed a soul,” Dust rolled his eyes, amused, though he did let go. “Seriously though. It's nice to see you here,”

...What?

This was like that ‘you're my friend’ bullshit that Dust pulled.

Dream was beaming at the two of them. Killer stepped on his foot harshly, making him yelp and stumble away.

Dust whacked him upside the head for it. Killer elbowed him in the ribs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Red muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Turning around leaving them to it like he wasn't associated.

“You’re as much of a freak as ever,” Killer replied to Dust’s comment at last.

“And you're as much of a jackass as ever,” Dust replied, not offended even in the slightest, just grinning in amusement. Damn him. “Thanks for bringing him,” he turned to Dream.

“Of course! Anytime.” Dream nodded, smiling still. “Will you be staying here, Killer?”

“Sure,” Killer shoved his hands back in his pockets, “Beats being bored.”

“I support your decision entirely,” Dream stated, and Killer narrowed his eyes, considering stabbing him. “In that case, Dust, you should expect to see us around occasionally, if that's okay?”

“Sure,” Dust shrugged. “Just don't forget to knock,”

“Of course,” Dream nodded. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it!” he waved at them with a smile, and in a flash he was gone.

“Come on,” Dust shoved Killer inside. “I wanna see you try Edge’s cooking,”

“Not worried I’ll dust him on the spot?” Killer teased.

“Good luck trying,” Dust immediately countered, closing the door behind them and redoing the locks. “If you're going to be an asshole I’ll just kick you out and back to your depression hole. Have fun being bored out of your mind,”

Good point. Currently it would be more interesting to have people around. When they got boring, Killer would resolve to pain and murder, but he had no reason to waste resources right now.

—

The ‘fell brothers got him a mattress in Dust’s room. That’s where Killer spent of his time really. Just used to it.

Except when Dust kicked him out of bed to do random shit. Like cleaning the house. Or watching television. Some of it boring, some of it a little less boring.

At least there were things to do. Even if they kind of made Killer itch for violence. So far, the only decoration to his side of the room was grooves in the wall where he threw his knives in boredom.

...And that stupid nesting doll from Dream.

Well. Killer wasn't going to complain (that's a lie, he complained a lot) — at least it wasn't the emptiness.

...In the dark of night, sometimes Dust couldn't sleep. Sometimes Killer was awake as well, restless with a craving for something to fill the void. And they... chatted. Like they did before, when they were both still with Nightmare.

It was...

...nice.

—

When Killer’s name was yelled from the living room, he already expected it to be Night or Dream.

“Hello,” Night greeted passively.

“Should've closed the door on his face, maybe a broken nose would make the sight nicer,” Killer commented and Red snorted.

“Hell no, I’m not getting involved with y’all,” Red didn't waste a moment to leave. Fair enough.

“Test number one,” Night mentioned, lifting... a folded chess board?

“All you'll succeed with that is boring me to death,” Killer pointed out, striding over to drag him inside because the idiot still hadn't entered. What, was he going to play chess from the doorway?

Close the door, lock all those stupid locks because apparently this was just how Underfell is.

“Well. Give it a chance,” Night reasoned.

“Whatever,” Killer walked over, flopping on the ratty couch. Might as well indulge him so he leaves quicker. If Night wanted to sabotage his own stance by intentionally boring Killer, well, that was his business.

There was no chair across the low table. Killer watched as Night, hesitantly, sat on the couch too. As far away from Killer as he could. Killer snorted.

Night opened up the board and started quickly setting up the chess.

“You are familiar with the rules,” Night stated. It wasn't a question because he already knew the answer — Corrupted Nightmare had played with him once.

“Nope,” Killer said, just to be annoying. “Never even heard of it,”

Night had the audacity to roll his eyes. He even looked amused. Where did all that guilt and hesitation go, huh?

“You take white,” Night said before Killer could instigate his suffering.

Killer sighed, and played some classic first move.

He already knew how this match would go. It was obvious — chess was one of Night’s favorite things, the nerd, and he’s had decades to get good at it. Killer wasn't an idiot if he could say so himself, but chess? It never really caught his fancy in particular. He wasn't much of a strategist.

They weren't even talking. Just sitting in silence, moving some wooden pieces around a checkered pattern. It was nothing.

Time ticking forth. The quiet sound of the pieces hitting the board.

As Night started snatching his pieces off, it was only being confirmed who’d win. And it wasn't even taking long.

“...You’re not actually putting effort in, are you,” Night finally caught on.

“I told you,” Killer sighed, lounging on the couch without much care, “it’s boring. And you’ll win anyway. What's the point?”

“That’s unfair,” Night huffed, “You agreed to play fair. That was the deal.”

Killer groaned, letting his head flop back.

“It’s stupid,” he growled. “This is a waste of time. I agreed to your damn bet, not to play pointless games,”

“Yes,” Night reasoned, “and this is part of the bet.”

“No, this is you being an annoying asshole,” Killer said cheerfully. “Haven't you learned? No one actually wants you around. At least when you were a mean asshole, you were an asshole with a personality.”

With how he was leaning back, Killer couldn't see the other’s face. But he didn't need to. The pause that followed made the hurt audible.

Night quietly breathed in. Breathed out.

“...You’re frustrated,” he stated.

Killer mimed rolling his eyes. “Fantastic counterargument, totally defeated my point,” he returned sarcastically.

“No,” Night corrected, “you're frustrated. I know that because I can still sense the emotions of others. When you get bored, you get frustrated. That's an emotion.”

Silence.

“What a delightful existence,” Killer spoke slowly. Cold and venomous. Pushing himself to sit up so he could stare at Night. “Being able to feel either emptiness or frustration.”

“But it’s a feeling,”

“It’s torture.” Killer growled.

“But it's a feeling,” Night insisted, and in a blink Killer threw a knife at him.

Night yelped, but barely managed to dodge to the side. As if Killer could put a dent in his HP that mattered.

“And when you’re bored, you want to do something!” Night continued, even as Killer got to his feet. “That’s a feeling too!” Night also scrambled to his feet to avoid the next stab, the blade sinking into the couch instead.

“I’ll show you what’s a feeling,” Killer snarled, grinning. “Ever heard of pain?”

But before he could throw the next readied attack, there was a ping!

His soul was grabbed and he was slammed back into the wall. Not enough to be a killing blow, barely chipped anything from his HP.

“Don't put holes in my couch,” came Dust’s flat voice from the stairs. “Do you know how hard it is to get furniture around here?”

Killer breathed harshly, still glaring at Night. He dissipated his conjured knife, huffing. Whatever.

Night was wrong. This yawning chasm inside him wasn't an emotion. It was a feeling the way hunger was a feeling. It was a desperation, a self-preservation instinct from the brain’s desire to not self-destruct. It was cold.

“My apologies,” Night’s gaze had moved to Dust, a little wide eyed. “Dust– I–”

“Yeah yeah, you already delivered your sorry’s,” Dust waved a hand dismissively. “Look, man, it’s not like you ever hurt me in particular,”

Night’s eyes, perhaps unintentionally, flicked to Killer before returning to Dust. “But I intentionally kept you in the worst possible mental state you could–” he rushed out.

“Yeah, and I left,” Dust shrugged. “And you're not that guy anymore, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Killer chimed in. “You gonna release me now?”

“Are you going to damage more of my property?” Dust fired back.

“I’ll damage your face.”

“Oh you want me matching your ugly, Tar-Eyes?”

Killer barked a laugh. “Damn you! I’m prettier than you could ever be,”

“My boyfriend would beg to differ,”

“Boyfriend?” Killer raised his brow ridges.

Dust cleared his throat, glancing away. Killer started laughing. Oh now this was news, how interesting.

Throughout their interaction, Night’s gaze had flicked back and forth between the two of them. Observing them with something pinched in his expression.

“Game over, Nighty,” Killer stated as his soul was finally released from the directed gravity. “Pack it up,”

“...But we didn't complete it,” Night pointed out.

“And we aren't going to, because quite frankly? I cannot be bothered,” Killer nodded generously.

“Better listen before he starts dishing it out again,” Dust chimed in, amused. “Trust me, he ain't scared to take it,”

“Oh like you’d know, you can barely leave a scratch on me,” Killer taunted.

“It barely takes more than a scratch for you to crumble,” Dust fired back easily.

“Wanna test that hypothesis?” Killer growled, grinning.

“Yeah, let me go put my egg-handling gloves,”

There was a quiet snort, and Killer looked over to see Night covering his mouth. Killer could still tell he was smiling, though god knows why.

“I’ll uh, leave you two be,” Night cleared his throat, back to awkward. Swiftly gathering up the chess pieces and folding the board.

—

It’s clear the ‘fell brothers aren't exactly keen on your company, but they tolerate you. Perhaps they even mildly respect you, if only out of fear.

...Dust... interacts so easily with them. It’s clear he cares about them, and that they care about him.

(He’s been carrying himself so much more easily ever since he left Corrupted Nightmare’s whole operation.

...Good for him.)

“Hey,”

What’s more peculiar, weird even, is that Dust acts that way with you, too.

“You okay?” he asks, even though you've done nothing but lay in bed all day. Staring at the ceiling. Getting lost in the passage of time. The damn passage of time.

“Couldn't be better,” you reply with a flat look, grinning. It is the truth.

Dust rolls his eyes.

“Move over,”

“Oho, baby want cuddles like the good ol’ times?”

“Move over or I'll move you myself,”

“You know what they say, don't threaten me with a good time,” you tease and prod. Always pushing buttons. Always looking for a reaction. For something to fill the emptiness.

Sadly there’s no longer a Corrupted Nightmare to rip you apart and make you feel tangible enough to be ripped part.

All Dust does is shove you to the side with a foot. You can't be bothered to protest. He flops down beside you, easy and comfortable. He isn't scared of you. He doesn't cower and cry like some frail minnow. It's what you respect about him.

“Found some books about ancient human philosophy recently,” Dust mentions.

“Uh-huh,”

“It's pretty interesting. Most of them say incredibly obvious things, just in a fancy way,”

You both chuckle.

“A lot of them are from this place called ‘Ancient Greece’ and stuff, a lot of what I’m pretty sure are the classics...”

Aaand so Dust starts telling you about some ancient humans with different sorts of beliefs. How different schools of thought or sciences developed from their statements.

It's... it's whatever. It's pretty boring really. Philosophy isn't your thing. Mostly because nothing is your thing. Nothing interests you.

...But...

The time doesn't pass as slowly, when it’s being used for something. The silence isn't as suffocating, broken by Dust’s... company.

So.

It's not that bad.

(...It’s nice.

...

...maybe you missed this.)

—

“Nothing? Really? You didn’t feel anything?” Dream was frowning at him where he sat across their impromptu beach blanket thing.

“Nope!” Killer affirmed cheerfully.

“Did– did you really have that bad of a time?” Dream’s frown was tinged with some sadness.

Killer shrugged. “Not particularly, no. It was mostly just...” he flicked more sand off his arm, “...boring,”

Dream’s idea was to take him for a ‘beach day’ for a couple of hours. His hypothesis being that if Killer was relaxed and in a very pleasant space, he’d feel... ugh, “safer and more comfortable” to... “express his emotions”.

It failed. Sure, the sun against his bones was pleasant sensation-wise, and so was the sound of the waves close by, but that was about it. The most Killer got out of it was relentlessly teasing Dream for “taking him out on a date”, trying to get a reaction from him. Dream was annoyingly composed and used to his bullshit. Killer ended up trying to manually catch fish by stabbing them with his knife.

It lasted a few short hours. The sun was still high and bright. Killer’s jacket was off. They were basically having a beach picnic right now, how romantic!

“Right,” Dream sighed, face in his hand. He always looked exhausted. He couldn't hide it even from Killer. It got better as the Stars slowly chipped at Corrupted Nightmare’s defenses, getting Dust and Horror to turn over a new page; and it got a lot better as Corrupted Nightmare was un-corrupted; but still. Killer assumed there was a lot of damage control to be done, even with the help of Night.

That’s the prize you get for living like that. Dream does this to himself, in Killer’s humble opinion.

“Well, thank you for giving it a shot,” Dream re-composed himself. Still trying to look on the bright side. Jeez, Killer was getting tired just looking at him, hah.

He shrugged in response. “Just a waste of my time. Nothing new.”

Dream studied his expression. Probably trying to figure out where he went wrong. Killer would advise him to look somewhere much farther, more along the lines of the distant past, such as: the moment he was born. Were these ‘guardians’ born...?

“...Aside from that,” Dream picked up conversation yet again. Maybe this was just an excuse for him to have a break. “How have you been?”

Killer blinked slowly at him.

“You know, the usual,” he leaned back on his hands, “Killing parents, torturing their children, that sort of thing,” he counted off casually. Even if he’d actually done nothing of the sort. He’s mostly been chilling with Dust. And when the itch to cause harm got stronger, when his soul began going crazy, Dust usually indulged him with a fight. It wasn't ideal, but it was keeping him more or less on his feet.

There was a quirk to Dream’s expression that almost looked like amusement.

“Right,” he nodded. “I... guess you want me to return you to your... fun activities?”

Killer sighed, leaning further until he laid his back on the blanket thing. Watching the bright blue sky and the even brighter sun above.

“...Eh,” he shrugged. “I’m not in a rush,”

Dream chuckled.

It seemed he was content to remain in... peace-adjacent silence. Listening to the timid waves sloshing against the shore, just a few paces away from them.

As calm as it was, however, the minutes ticked on. Eventually, they started to grate on Killer. Silence was boring.

“Why are you trying so hard to ‘help me’?” he brought up, since Dream had never properly answered. “You are aware I’m one of the worst people just in general. And I’m not “corrupted” like your brother.”

“I’m aware,” Dream confirmed. “But, well, the whole idea of ‘I believe anyone can change and be good’ wouldn’t hold much weight if I didn’t believe anyone can change and be good, if they tried,” he pointed out. Killer could respect his integrity.

“But that’s not really where the catch is,” Killer pointed out. He was pretty sure they’ve had this conversation before. “The catch is in the last part. Whether they want to. Whether they try,”

Of course anyone had the potential to be just about anything. Willpower is one hell of a force. But pure potential wasn't the matter. That demonic god that destroyed his world over and over until they finally got to him could choose, at any time, to not do that. They had that power more than anyone.

But they didn't. They made those choices. And so did Killer.

“...Do you want to be evil, Killer?” Dream asked calmly, after their brief pause. When Killer turned his head to look at him, Dream was watching the waves with a tired expression.

Killer scratched his skull. He shrugged. “It can be fun,”

“Yeah,” Dream nodded, and Killer blinked. “That’s the thing. You don’t want to be evil for the sake of being evil, do you?”

...Hm. Interesting that he thought so.

“And I think,” Dream reasoned, “like Night also thinks, that if we figure out the core reasoning behind your actions, we can find what you really want. And we can work with you. And we can help you,”

Fun theory.

“That didn’t answer my question however,” Killer nudged the topic aside with a foot. “Why do you want to help me that bad?”

Dream huffed a soft laugh. “It’s what I do,”

“Oh please,” Killer scoffed, “Don’t give me that cop-out,”

“...Why do you want to know?”

“I’m bored, sunshine,” as if it was anything new.

Dream glanced at him. Again, that slight quirk to his mouth, like he was amused or something.

“...You’re curious,” he offered a correction.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” Killer shrugged. Curious, sure, why not? People are freaking weird. Might as well try to figure them out. It’s one of the few varieties in life. Better mental stimulation than the sameness of everything else.

“I...” Dream looked down at his hands. “Well, you can look at it mathematically if you want. There isn’t much worth to just... hating you forever, punishing you for your actions. That doesn’t get us anywhere. But if a bad person becomes good, to use simple terms... that’s an overall net gain, isn’t it?”

...Huh. Much more pragmatic than Killer expected. He would’ve betted on something a lot sappier.

“And everyone has a will,” Dream continued. “It’s not that you can choose to do good at any time, sometimes it’s a little more complicated, but when you remove any external factors forcing people’s decisions... I do think they can choose to do good. No matter what they’ve chosen in the past.”

“But why not just kill me? There, that removes a bad person,” Killer pointed out. It’s the solution he’d always utilized. Simple and effective.

Dream frowned a little. “...Did Corrupted Nightmare prefer killing?” he posed a leading question.

And the truth was... no, not really. He wasn’t against it, obviously, especially when the death of one person could cause the grief of many. He rarely stopped Killer from indulging in it. But he got all prissy when the gang would do nothing but murder (even if it was literally their speciality).

“Do you expect a corpse to feel bad?” Nightmare had snarled.

“If we go down that route, ad absurdum, it would just be... endless destruction until nothing is left,” Dream answered.

“Which wouldn’t exactly give you an increase in positivity,” Killer finished. He supposed it made sense, if he was trying to understand Dream’s point of view.

“...I wouldn’t say it like that, my goal was never to make all of the Multiverse wholly positive, but... yes, sort of,” Dream nodded.

“Really?” Killer glanced at him. “I thought that was the idea. Good and evil fighting to win, blah blah blah,” he waved a hand.

“...No?” Dream blinked. “Although I suppose I understand the confusion. Many people think that.” he reasoned. “...It’s what got Night...” he muttered quietly, trailing off. His expression pinching with a concoction of emotions unfitting for his title. He shook it off quickly. “No, the idea had always been about balance. That’s why I fought against the Corrupted Nightmare. He wasn’t negativity as it should be, he was more. He was an overwhelmingly consuming force, tipping the balance towards his extreme,”

“And you’re not doing that?” Killer asked. “You don’t want everyone to be happy, Dreamboy?” he teased.

“No!” Dream exclaimed, to his surprise. “That’s not good for anyone. I want to help people, not– people have a natural range of emotions for a reason. Negative feelings are just as important — sadness is essential to processing grief, anger is what tells you to defend yourself or what you stand for–” he began ranting, in a way that was clearly repeated many times for many, many years.

“Besides you of course,” Killer interjected, and Dream stumbled over his words.

“What?” he looked at Killer.

“You’re not allowed to be sad, are you?” Killer pushed at those buttons, grinning. “Because it’s all about mathematics, right? People need the Guardian of Positivity to always be positive. And you serve the people.”

Dream stared at him, mouth flat, brow ridges pinched.

Killer chuckled. He was so good at striking a nerve.

“You’re a liar. So desperate to prove your stance true, you’ll tear yourself apart for it and not even let anyone see,” he continued, until Dream turned away, unable to look at him. “And you’re cruel, to claim everyone is right to feel bad, but then turn around and never do that yourself. What sort of example are you setting, sunshine?” Killer mocked. “You want me to accept and show my emotions? Where are yours?”

Dream stiffened.

He was a fool if he expected this evening to go any differently, really. This is what Killer did. He was made of hurt. His own, others’, it didn’t matter. He was fluent in all the dialects.

And so they sat in silence. Dream likely didn’t have much more desire to talk to him after that, which was fair. Though the conversation was a degree of... enlightening. Killer had discovered nuances to Dream’s thinking he hadn’t expected.

He also expected this to be the end of it.

...So he was reasonably surprised, when Dream spoke up, quiet but steady,

“...Yeah. I guess you’re right,”

(...They stayed there for a little longer.)

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howlsofbloodhounds · 6 months ago

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nckdnsk howl you can't keep having these bombass headcanons while i'm still compiling stuff to write my fics (it's me, crowshipping anon) 😭 i'll probably share them when i'm done 🫣

jokes aside, since you want some two cents on killer and color being apart from each other...

cross takes the role of teaching killer about boundaries in relationships. he belatedly realizes that "wait, does killer have any hobbies or other friends apart from color?". and so it turns into a daily exercise of forcing killer (usually with violence sadly) to socialize with more people and find his own hobbies/activities not related to color. cross gets killer a secluded place to live (cross might have blackmailed ink into helping). cross makes killer decide on interior furniture, letting him have some choices in his living environment. baby steps, baby steps.

unlike color, of course cross is busy with his own stuff and responsibilities. i imagine he's on community service for what he did in the past. so cross is not just killer's only caretaker/parole officer. sometimes dream is there, sometimes blue, sometimes murder and/or horror (if they escape nightmare and once they're well-adjusted - i imagine they'd have an easier time than killer for... reasons), and there are other people as well. it's not a one-person task to rehabilitate a bad person - it's a community effort to reform them to be better!

(though i imagine for safety reasons, people usually take on shifts in groups. killer is still dangerous after all. i think murder, having previous beef with killer, will enjoy having legitimate reasons to fight killer and taunt him over his failures of controlling color and how he's not that dissimilar to nightmare. needs some tough love to get through killer's thick skull after all.)

after a while, cross thinks about getting killer some cats, though he is skeptical at first. it's not that he can't trust killer to take care of cats - he's just wary the caretaking duties and ownership might trigger killer's control issues again. so at first it's cat therapy sessions with ccino. killer has some alone times with the cats. maybe once ccino can reassure cross that killer can be a responsible cat owner, then it's time to GET KILLER SOME CATS!!! killer can adopt some hobbies, like crocheting so he can give his cats some fun accessories, or journaling so he can vent like crazy. oh yeah, and he needs a therapist too.

meanwhile, color is on his multiversal road trip with delta and epic. he feels excited and apprehensive at the same time. excited, because it's been a long time since he has time to spend with his old friends - he misses this so much. and apprehensive, because he can't help fretting over whether killer is okay or not - last time he saw killer, cross was dragging him away quite aggressively. epic is like "nah bro, cross won't kill him, don't worry. let's just relax"

so color is relearning how to be himself around people he love. sometimes color hurts delta/epic out of habit for not listening to him, and he's appalled by his actions. sometimes he begs them to let him see killer again, just a call, and epic and delta just have to flat out deny it for his own recovery. he can only hear updates through cross. sometimes he tries to sneak out to return to killer (yay portal powers!), but gets caught and coaxed into not doing anything reckless.

this is me assuming everything go swimmingly for both of them, though for killer it'll be much harder. imagine something goes wrong. like killer finally weasels one of his caretakers into bringing him to color, or color successfully sneaks out to see killer. imagine killer says to color that everyone is out to get them, to separate them. let's just leave everything and run away together. killer knows just a universe that nightmare has destroyed where no one can suspect. imagine color is reluctant at first, but then killer pulls out his guilt-tripping card again. he was miserable the whole time color wasn't there, so is color okay with leaving him? killer knows color knows killer is a terrible person, and yet color still tries to connect with him, not to fix him but to show him a better way to live. and isn't killer content with being with color, just the two of them against the world? whatever color decides to do, killer will agree. but, as killer proposes, if they stay, killer will not be happy, and will color live with that?

Grr yess thank you I Am eating this up more please 🙏 🙏 (crowshipping anon may I please be able to read your fics when you’re done with them???)

I am conflicted because I am like yes killer get worse you fucking vile creature and in the next I want to snap his fucking neck. I wonder if ink shares my emotions on this (characters in a story after all)

I can’t imagine what killers fucking journal would be like. probably alternating between literally everything about color and then just violently wanting to rip cross and dream and fucking dust to shreds because how dare they

it is probably the equivalent of that one post that goes “*writing in my journal with a glitter pen* I am losing touch with my humanity”

I know his bitch ass immediately zeroed in on his past victims—blue, murder, horror—and started tearing into them. probably knew cross would prevent him from physically doing so hes gonna do it verbally. hows fucking papyrus doing huh? hows that eye treating you baby blue? trick your brother into eating anymore meat horror? does he hate you now?

his ass would immediately use his knowledge and experience with/about nightmare to fuck with dream too. you can’t even save your own brother what makes you think you could save me?

he would most definitely attempt to sabotage cross’, murder’s, and horror’s “redemption arcs.”

theyre all gonna fucking hate him in these moments and its gonna take a whole lotta patience and understanding to not immediately murder him. (maybe thats what a part of him is hoping for) (looking at you stage 1, even tho you havent likely made a appearance yet)

his ass would definitely fake cry and pretend to be getting better only to just clock whoever is watching him out and attempt to escape (goes nowhere because he wasnt even allowed to know where color is)

but imagine the relief for a moment if color did sneak out to see him. before his guilt tripping bullshit.

like. like. cause I know his codependent ass was on the edge on a perpetual breakdown even when he tried to hide it and suppress it under his apathy and dissociate. his experienced mind is conjuring up images every horrible fucking thing that could happening to color, and stage 1’s anxiety is causing fucking constant nightmares and flashbacks and it makes it worse because I know he tries very often and frequently to shove stage 1 all the way down. (Nightmares still out there he hates color colors not safe)

no. no. he would just ruin everything, hed try to kill them—he wouldnt understand what killer is doing. killer cant die, color still needs him. stage 1 would be stupid enough to buy into cross’ bullshit.

i can just imagine the relief that almost sends him to his knees when he finally sees color. eyes looking him over everywhere—wheres the scars? wheres the bruises?—shaky hands (uncharacteristic) roaming over colors form. maybe even does something as dramatic as slams color against a wall with his body just for the drama of it all.

He’s real. He’s real he’s real—solid underneath his hands. Colors real. maybe so relieved there’s even some cheek nuzzles and maybe even some kisses from colors cheek to his throat.

and. and. and killer failed him. he failed. he failed to protect him.

he needs to be punished. he knows. color probably doesnt know but its okay he’ll teach him later.

and then there’s comes the exhausted but content full body sigh before killer melts against color and then here comes the apologies. for failing.

theres some reassurance from color—no don’t apologize its not your fault im okay epic and delta would never hurt me/let me be hurt—then it loops around to the fucking guilt tripping. killer im gonna snap your neck you prick.

oh boy imagine being killers therapist during this. hes gonna make your job miserable and like pulling teeth. hes gonna observe you and start using what hes noticed against you—the kids dont call anymore therapist person? oh your husband is dead..im sure its your fault.

and i can imagine back with delta and epic and color that if anyone tries to talk about killer he immediately starts defending him. like no it wasnt okay what killer did but come on he doesnt know any better (color knows logically that its killers responsibility to learn better anyhow)

id imagine that the experience with killer and the subsequent effects of instinctively hurting delta and/or epic mustve led color to those “hurting my loved ones” nightmares that delta is quite familiar with. and delta hates killer for this. he hates that he made color afraid of himself, that he did all that to someone he claims to care about more than anything.

“care about” his ass. this isnt love. this isnt what you do to those you love.

anyway i need color and epic and delta to cuddle up all nice warm and theyre there to comfort color when he wakes up screaming/crying. often times color just wants killer (the devotion when he looks at color is as comforting as it is terrifying), so at most epic and delta settle for something that could remind him of killer. a photo? killers jacket?

delta should get to punch killer in the mouth for this yes siree. epic gives him the immediate “yes” to the signaled question. (murder gets to beef with killer and also talks shit about killer out loud to papyrus & although killer doesn’t know it reaper and grimm know all the juicy details (murder talks shit while at their altars lmao) and are judging him harshly) (theyre like ‘damn bitch you live like this???’)

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