#green shore crab

[ifelten]

Almindelig strandkrabbe (Carcinus maenas)

Green Shore Crab (Carcinus maenas)

[stroebe2]

Usal Intertidal Guide – 004

Usal Guide 004: a guide to the alien-like world of California tide pools. "It's advisable to look from the tide pools to the stars and then back to the tide pools again." Curated by Usal Tidepooling guide Parker Kalan with words collected by Usal. 100 limited edition brochures printed and published in Los Angeles, CA. 

[seud-luachmhor]

[fyodior]

TIDAL TEMPTATIONS. - chapter i

༄ pairing: merman!fyodor x afab reader

༄ cw: sfw (for now), non-gory descriptions of and treatment of stab wounds to fyodor, very brief mentions of blood. not intended to be medically accurate, treat ur stab wounds as you wish

༄ notes: hello :) welcome to my first multi-chapter fic! this has been a work in progress for some time, and im quite nervous abt posting this first part so be nice pls <3 just as a note, fyodor is referred to exclusively as he/him until reader names him next chapter (he can't speak human language yet) enjoy!

༄ wc: 4k

Since moving to a beachside village after spending your whole life in a landlocked town, your mother had outlined ample, strict rules regarding the sea.

Rule 1: No venturing out past sundown.

This was the rule you broke on an almost nightly basis. Your mother was quite the early riser, meaning she often was out cold before the fireflies had even begun flashing yellow and green. It was far too easy to slip out the back door with a flashlight, barefoot to keep your footsteps silent as possible. There was no feeling more serene than dawdling down the shore, mushy sand between your toes and waves lapping at your ankles as the salty breeze curled around you. It was pitch black save for the bioluminescent creatures that washed up on the shore and the pale glow emanating from your flashlight, and it was comforting. While many feared darkness, you found solace in its embrace.

Rule 2: No swimming past the sandbar.

Also a frequently broken rule. You found it to be far too restrictive, as the sandbar was only a dozen meters from the shore. No fish could be found that shallow, and it was much easier for crabs to nip at you when you were that close to the sandy floor. Being out deeper, where the gentle waves tousled and hugged you, was where you felt the most at home.

Rule 3: No fraternizing with sea beings.

That’s the name that had been put in place for entities that straddled the line of human and creature. Some believed they were even the missing link. Very little was known about sea beings, mostly due to the universal fear of them. They often had unsettling, bone-chilling appearances and never appeared to be overly friendly to humans, so a firm boundary was set. You must never approach a sea being.

All three of these rules were broken the night you met him.

Well, you assumed it was a “him”. He had a flat chest and sharp, masculine features, but he wasn’t human. His human-esque appearance terminated at his hips, where pale, nearly translucent skin tapered into onyx black scales, flowing into a sleek, obscenely long tail. His fluke, also inky black, was reminiscent of a betta fish’s frail fins, flowy with spindly edges, yet fanned strong against the current.

That was all you were able to see of him, at first. You had swam out well past the sandbar one night, flashlight in hand as you dove past the waves, your beam suddenly illuminating his form. He remained very still, head tilting as you made eye contact, as if he was observing you. And he was – he had heard the unmistakable sound of a human swimming, a somewhat ungraceful, clumsy affair, and followed it. Typically, when he sensed humans in the water, he would jet in the other direction – humans didn’t treat him kindly, and he had the scars to prove it. But there was something… different about you. A sweeter scent and a gentler aura. And he was curious - so instead of making a beeline towards his cove when he sensed your presence in the water, he swam closer.

He was immediately enamored by you. You were much softer and merciful, and he didn’t sense a single bad intention. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t uneasy. The only interactions he’d ever had with humans were traumatic, and other than appearances, he had no way of knowing you were any different. Claws bared, fangs ready, and tail already swishing, he was prepared for fight or flight – though he remained, just watching you. And you the same. It was drilled into your head, the second you spotted a sea being, swim as fast as possible towards the shore and never look back. There were a handful of reports of villagers being attacked by sea beings and barely making it out alive, and one case of a child who didn’t. Their presence was not to be taken lightly.

Yet, for some reason, both of you just… watched.

Watched and waited for the other to make a move - to attack. He thought it was surely any second until you unveiled a spear from behind your back to impale him, and you were just waiting to be torn to shreds by those claws. But nothing ever happened. You held his gaze and he held yours, studying the other.

Just as fascinated as you were by him, he was utterly fascinated by you. He had never gotten this close to a human before, not by his own volition anyway, and he had never truly seen one this plainly. It was easy to tell that you looked similar to him from the top up, but the bottom down was a completely different story. Where he was used to fish tails, scales, and fins, you wore two fleshy, stick-like protrusions that only bent in two places. No wonder humans were so terrible at swimming. He briefly wondered if there was anything between them. 

It wasn’t long before you ran out of air and had to break the surface, but when you dove back down, he was gone. You felt a slight sense of relief that he hadn’t been staking you out as prey, but also a pang of sorrow as you realized you’d likely never see him again. What you didn’t know is that he hadn’t gone far, just hid behind a formation of rocks as he watched you dejectedly swim back to the shore. It was a foreign experience – he’d never seen a human… disappointed about escaping from him.

As you snuck back into bed and drifted off that night, you found yourself gilled and fanged, finding home amongst the waves.

~~

You didn’t see him for a while after that. Despite you returning to the same spot from that fateful night every day, marked by an especially large horseshoe crab shell, he was never there. It became part of your daily routine to venture to that spot, a backpack full of books, snacks, and water, and lay out on a towel as the sun drifted through the sky.

It was never quite clear to you what you were waiting for, though. What would you even do if he reappeared? You couldn’t converse, neither of you could go to the other’s homes, what was to be gained from seeing him again? You never quite answered that question – all you knew was that you just had to see him again. At least one more time.

Things started to look bleak as days turned into weeks. Your mother wasn’t happy with you spending nearly every waking second on the beach. She could never find out why either, as she’d likely ban you from stepping foot on the sand ever again. And you even had started to think that maybe you had dreamt it – no way you just happened to run into a breathtakingly beautiful merman-type sea being who didn’t try to attack you. That just didn’t happen.

This… creature, you just couldn’t get him out of your head. He had found his way onto almost every page of your sketchbook, finding new life in graphite, pastels, and watercolors. The inky black tail swirled long and curled on itself on the page, as you occasionally took creative liberties on his appearance. 

Stories of him and your sure-to-happen future rendezvouses began popping up in your diary too - and not just him as a sea creature. You waxed poetic about what he might look like as a full-fledged human, with legs and without fangs. He’d surely be kind and gentlemanly, charming and funny with a deep voice and proper human language. He’d be well spoken and smart, and everything you’d ever dreamed of. 

If he ever showed up again. And it wasn’t looking like he would. Until he did.

On a night where you hadn’t even been on the lookout for him, were just dragging your feet through wet sand and shells when you spotted a dark form curled up on the shore. The moon was but a sliver barely cutting through dense clouds, compromising your vision, but something convinced you to jog that way anyway.

And it was him. The tide that lapped at the sand jostled his barely conscious body, threatening to pull him back out towards the darkness. You gasped as you ran and fell to your knees next to him, immediately recognizing the onyx tail with the delicate fins and opalescent skin. Except this time his back was riddled with what appeared to be stab wounds – they were likely a few hours old, no longer gushing blood, but still deep, unhealed gashes that needed to be treated.

“Are- are you okay?” you stupidly asked – as if he was conscious or human enough to answer that question.

When he didn’t respond, you shifted to sit with your legs crossed and pulled his head into your lap, brushing his salt-crusted hair out of his eyes. His large eyes fluttered open at the stimulus, a glowing violet gaze shifting to meet yours.

“Hi,” you whispered, laughing lightly. “I had wanted us to meet again, but not like this.” You had assumed he didn’t understand human language, but the way he only stared at you blankly confirmed this belief.

Anxiety and panic started to bubble up inside you as you absorbed the situation but did your best to ignore it. Swift, calm action needed to be taken if he was to be saved. You shifted your gaze to better assess his injuries and counted five different gashes where he had clearly been stabbed with some sort of weapon – it certainly wasn’t something that had happened naturally. The shape of the wounds was reminiscent of those a fishing harpoon would create, and your face fell as you pieced together what likely happened. Existing in his own territory, he probably swam too close to a fishing boat and spooked the fishermen, prompting them to overreact and attack the harmless creature.

You brought a careful finger to trace along the edges of the wounds, making him jump and hiss, thrashing in your hold as he groaned.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” you gasped, your hands immediately flying away. “I’m gonna, um…” you thought for a second. You knew you had medicine and gauze back home, but he was just going to have to go right back in the water, right? It surely was better than nothing…

You slowly started to wiggle out of his grip. “I’m gonna be right back, okay? I need to get supplies to make you better,” you explained slowly, gesturing towards his wounds. He only cocked his head and furrowed his brows. Fuck. He wasn’t going to understand a word you said.

With a grimace, you gently held his head in your hands as you scooted away, slowly laying it back down on the sand. You stood to head back to your house, but the creature suddenly began groaning and crying out, reaching a shaky arm towards you. He was clearly distressed over you abandoning him.

“Hey, hey! I’ll be right back, I swear,” you soothed, crouching down next to him, and gripping his hand. It killed you to have to leave him like this, terrified you might return to either find him dead or washed back out to sea, but you couldn’t just do nothing at all.

You wracked your brain trying to think of a way to communicate to him that you’d be back when words weren’t an option. Grabbing your backpack, you anxiously rummaged through it for some semblance of an idea, all the while he moaned and groaned in pain. Some sort of keepsake you could somehow communicate had value, almost like collateral. Something to say, this is special, proof I’ll be back. As fate would have it, you had decided to do a deep clean of your bag that morning, so you were coming up pretty dry.

The only thing you could think of was an old copy of your favorite book you always carried on you, Crime and Punishment. Mother always teased you for a depressing, old Russian novel being your comfort book, but you never let it phase you. Pulling it out of your backpack, you stared at the old, tattered cover with the faded title, and hoped to god he could make sense of it – that you were trusting him with something that meant a lot to you. There wasn’t much else you could do.

You tucked it under his arm splayed out on the sand, making sure he noticed what you were doing. Petting his hair, you looked him deep in the eyes as you enunciated one more time: I’ll be right back.

Panic coursed through your veins as you clambered to your feet and ran back to your house. The light of your flashlight was nearly useless as you trembled with fear, tripping over shells and driftwood to the point where your feet were probably going to need some treatment too.

The next hurdle in your way as you reached your house was remaining quiet enough so as not to wake your mother – there was no way to explain your way out of frantically searching for medical supplies to run back out with in the middle of the night. When you weren’t even supposed to be out in the first place.

To minimize the amount of time you even had to be away, you just threw anything you could find in the cabinets into your bag, hoping it would be sufficient enough. Though you stopped in front of the mirror as you passed it, staring at your sweaty and distressed appearance, and took a second to wonder what the hell you were doing. Going out of your way to save a potentially homicidal sea being? Those stabbings may have been damn well deserved. He could somehow be manipulating your kindness for… something. You couldn’t even think of what.

You decided it wasn’t even worth fretting about – you had to get your book back anyway.

The trip back to your anxiously awaiting patient felt a million times longer than the trip home, with every step of your bloody feet reminding you that there may be no one – nothing – to come back to. The sea was a place of peace, but cruel and unforgiving. Your prayers were answered as your flashlight once again illuminated his crumpled body, barely conscious but still clinging on to your (soaking wet and likely ruined) book.

A relieved smile illuminated your face as you fell to his side once again, partially burying the flashlight into the sand so it stood upright to act as a lamp.

“You’re – still here,” you smiled, taking a deep breath. You almost said you’re okay, but that wasn’t quite true, yet.

His clawed hand trembled as it reached out for you, the stretch of his fingers revealing the black webbing in between them. You grasped it back tightly and intertwined your fingers together, squeezing. “I’m here, okay?” He offered you the tiniest smile, but immediately dropped it, the miniscule energy it required taking a toll on his wasting body.

The first thing you did was unfurl a massive, striped beach towel you found shoved in the back of a linen closet onto the sand before hooking your elbows under his underarms and dragging him onto it. It was nearly impossible, his entire body essentially dead weight at that point, but you wanted to get him off the dirty sand – and this was the closest thing you could get to a sterile field.

Dumping the contents of your bag onto the towel next to him, you parsed through it trying to figure out some sort of plan of action. You tried to keep the panic at bay as the thought that none of this was sufficient for anything worse than a superficial cut nagged at you. It was this or nothing.

The first thing mother always told you to do for wounds: clean it. A wave of dread washed over you as you pulled out the bottle of rubbing alcohol, your eyes flitting from it to the gaping wounds in his back. The way he looked at you with terrified, leaky eyes, aware that his entire life was in your hands right then, shattered your heart. You almost wished he was unconscious.

Grabbing a washcloth, he watched as you soaked it with rubbing alcohol, his nose scrunching at the offensive smell. Touching his cheek, you tried to smile as he met your eyes. “This is gonna hurt really – really – bad,” you grimaced. He just stared at you, emotionless, until the rag touched the first wound.

As soon as the liquid came into contact with the broken skin, he let out a horrific, inhuman screech that had you dropping the washcloth to cover your ears. His claws tore ragged holes in the towel as he gripped it, panting and writhing in pain. You couldn’t help but cry too. “I’m so, so sorry,” you continually repeated, abandoning the cloth to lay down next to him. Tears streamed down his face and soaked the towel underneath him, barely even acknowledging the way you wiped them away with trembling fingers.

Despite how much you preferred to just lie with him under the glow of the moon and the melody of the waves, you knew what had to be done. Death was worse than temporary pain – there had to be part of him somewhere that understood that. You hoped it would be better now that he was expecting it.

Slowly sitting back up, you grabbed the rag once more and wrung it out to reduce it to only the minimum amount of antiseptic required, and tried to ignore the way he quivered and shook his head. I’m sorry felt like a shitty spell as you chanted it over and over again, though the screeches became easier to tune out as they rang on. You were surprised his vocal cords didn’t fry.

After what felt like an eternity for both of you, you had finally managed to clean out the wounds and remove some of the dried blood that clung to his skin. The towel was torn to shreds and the veins in his eyes were blown with how much he had been thrashing and sobbing. But the worst of it was over now.

“We’re almost done,” you soothed as you gently applied the triple-antibiotic cream you knew was only meant for minor cuts to the gaping stab wounds. Once they were packed with gauze, you sat back with a huff to survey your handiwork. Sloppy and a bit haphazard but… better than nothing. And having the wounds covered seemed to have helped him calm down a little bit. One last thing crossed your mind though – how could you potentially make the dressings waterproof?

Your eyes flitted over to a slew of seaweed on the shore that reflected the moonlight and figured you might as well try. With some gentle and minorly excruciating maneuvering, you managed to wrap a few thick strands of seaweed around his torso to maybe keep the dressings in place, and protect them from water immediately seeping in.

Falling back onto the towel that was mostly just threads at that point, you sighed. Thoughts of what the fuck am I doing? carved their way into every square inch of your skull. Why am I playing doctor for… whatever he- it is? Why do I care?

The sun began to peak up over the horizon, signaling that it was likely around 5 AM at that point. A groan left your lips as you realized you were going to have to leave soon if you wanted to make it home before Mother awoke, but then remembered you had company. Turning your head, you inspected his body. This was your first time seeing him on land in the approaching daylight.

He only watched you as you observed him. He was… mesmerizing. Flowing from the nape of his neck to both of his wrists, swirls of smoky black pigmentation decorated his skin, while both of his hands and claws were solid black. His – admittedly stunning – face was mostly human-like, save for his slightly larger, glowing violet eyes with slits for pupils. And you had found out he had fangs when he kept hissing in pain. His hair was jet black and flowed just past his shoulders, flecked with salt and sand, that obscured the dark gills on either side of his neck. With only the pitiful light of dawn, you couldn’t make out much of his inky tail, only that it was quite long, and lined with multiple flowing side fins that resembled the fluke.

The waterproof digital watch on your wrist began to beep erratically, making the poor creature jump in fear. Shit. The morning alarm your mother had punched into it.

“I have to leave, I’m so sorry.”

Seemingly starting to recognize the sounds of leave and sorry, his already sad expression wilted even more.

“I’ll be back, okay?” you nodded, enunciating each word clearly. “And you probably need to get back in the water, so you don’t dry out.”

The elongated amount of time outside of the water seemed to have made his tail shrivel slightly, the pointed scales more prominent than they were before. Or maybe that was just the sun rising. Either way, you were at least somewhat certain he needed to be rehydrated.

Standing up on your feet, you dusted off some of the sand that now clung to every inch of you and crossed your arms. The tip of your tongue poked out of your lips slightly as you tried to conjure up a plan of how to get him back in the water. Considering the fact that he wasn’t just pure dead weight anymore, it couldn’t be too bad. But the fresh stab wounds were the main barrier here.

“Alright. We’re getting you back in,” you announced, as if you had some position of authority. He just cocked his head and flared his gills.

With time running out, you decided the best bet was just to use the towel to drag his body the couple of meters back towards the water, and rely on the tide to hopefully aid in easing him back in. It was a deliberate choice to ignore his snarls and light thrashing, clearly not thrilled with the idea.

“Stop fighting me, dumbass,” you grunted. Finally, the tide rose high enough to envelop him, allowing him to indignantly flick his tail at you before swimming away.

The trip back to your house was spent fuming as you wondered why the stupid creature was being so damn ungrateful. As if you hadn’t spent hours saving his life. Whatever. Maybe you could give him a piece of your mind when you went to check up on him later that day. What you didn’t understand was that his unwillingness to allow you to leave stemmed from the fact that he couldn’t quite grasp why you were leaving him. What you were leaving him for. And it hurt. He had always been a loner, even amongst his own kind, and you were the only being to ever show him pure kindness. Why would you leave? And would you ever be back?

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐏𝐭 𝟐

𝑻���𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒂 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆... 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

Pairing: Merman!Hyunjin x Human!fem!reader Genre: Angst kinda, Fluff🥰💖, Smut🔥❤️ Word Count: 6k Warnings: Blood, Hyunjin is missing, JYPEeeEe KING OF DA SEEEEAAAAA, challenges for king, memories of sexual scenes >.>, Hyunjin AND the kid have hallucinations, kidnapping..., RANDOM MERMAID CRAP I THOUGHT WAS COOL (heart of the sea, coral palace, etc), reunions, chan becomes king of the sea... i think that's it... sweet sex (not entirely soft...), possessive Hyunjin, JYP dies.... forgive me its for plot.

A/N: Based on this TikTok link to pt 1 AHHHHH THE LONG AWAITED PART 2 i hope you like it <3 changing the formatting of my work and page again soon >.>

"I'm trusting you to take care of them, at least until I get back..."

Chan stared at his friend, "And if you don't?"

Hyunjin sucked in a breath and looked over his shoulder at Chan, "Let her... Make her... Forget me."

"Mommy what's 2 x 2?"

"Why are you worried about multiplication right now? Sugar you can't even add your hundreds place yet." You sighed.

"Uncle Ji said it's important to start early." You child pouted.

"Uncle Ji doesn't know much about math either." You chuckled.

"I second that." Chan laughed.

"Uncle Chan." She looked at the dark haired man, "What's 2 x 2?"

You gave Chan a look.

"I'll teach you another time we should work on addition first, y'know?" The man smiled.

You smiled and looked back at your work, you had been studying a certain type of guppy for just about a month now. A type of guppy that always lingered around Hyunjin's home...

You clenched for fists as you thought about that man, his beautiful sea green eyes, his gorgeous smile, the way he held you.

The doorbell made you look up. "Chan, can you get that?"

"I got it." Chan opened the door to Changbin.

"UNCLE BINNIE!" Your child ran to the short man's arms.

He them up and spun them. "Look at my favorite kid." He smiled, "You ready to go?"

Your child grabbed her bag and dragged it to the door, waving goodbye, "I'll see you in two days Mommy. Bye bye!"

You laughed lightly and waved. "Take came of her Changbin."

"I will." He called back.

You were positive she would be fine when you heard Minho's "I'll watch them both."

You kept to your work until Chan tapped your shoulder, "You're going to die of work. Go out and do something."

"Who are you my dad?" You laughed lightly. "Fine."

You picked up your computer but Chan took it from you. "Go relax... Go for a drive, go out to eat, get your nails done. SOMETHING!"

"FINE!" You huffed, muttering a you put on your shoes and grabbed your car keys.

You drove around town for a bit, looking out at the sea, you parked by the beach and walked to the shore, taking off your shoes and sitting there on the sand.

You watched as the water lapped around your bare feet, remembering sitting here with Hyunjin, who seemed shocked that crabs could be so mean when he didn't appear like a merman. You smiled and gripped the sand between your fingers before reaching up and playing with your sun charm.

You lie back on the sand as you remembered the day you and Hyunjin sat on the beach at night, the moon was full and he was talking about his parents.

"And apparently, my dad was the most romantic guy ever. But I can't be so sure about that now."

You giggled. "Do you think I'll meet your parents?"

He looked at you. "Maybe..."

"Maybe?" You tilted your head at him.

"I'd have to make you my mate first." He smirked.

"You'd bite me?" You laughed. "Like a werewolf?"

He made a face and grabbed your face. "I'd present you to the Mother of the Sea and beg for her blessing. I'd give you all my air..." he looked into your eyes and you felt your face get hot. "And then..." He leaned in close so his lips brushed against your jaw. "I'd give you my seed."

You shoved his face and hid yours in embarrassment as he cackled.

"Is it so bad to you???!" He laughed.

"No just..." You looked at him. "You've already done 1 of those things."

He smirked. "Then let me do it again.." he took your hand into his and kissed your wrist then your arm before moving to your neck.

You blushed deeply as your remember how he'd practically dragged you under the water and done... jiendsjiok Y/n. Focus..."Hyune... Where are you?"

Uncle Changbin and Uncle Minho had taken me around all day, we went to the mall, to the park, then we went to go eat, when we finally got to Minho's place and I went to bed I smiled slightly to myself. Mommy never let me go out often.

It was late, I was staring up at the ceiling, I wonder what Daddy's doing right now... the thought of my father made me smile, I still remembered his pretty face. Mommy used to smile more then. It's been two years if I've done my math right.

I hugged my narwal plushie that he bought me the last time we went to the aquarium together. I closed my eyes and whispered softly, "Mother of Sea... bring my daddy back." And I fell asleep.

Mommy says I got my hyper awareness from Daddy. The soft sound of steps woke me up and I froze. The steps weren't near the door or in the hall. They were in the room.

My eyes focused into the darkness and I glanced around without rolling over. I tried to look like I was sleeping as the steps grew closer, was it a monster? was it the boogey man my friends at school talked about...

"Jazz hands and flash." Daddy's voice came to my mind, I was 4 then and he told me to be careful when I flared my hands out because my claws would appear...

The steps grew closer and I swallowed, should I scream for Uncle Changbin...

I should scream..

The steps were beside my bed now.

The shadow stretched over my bed, moonlight from the window pouring in.

I saw the hand reaching for me.

One...

"Deep breaths.." I sucked in a slow, steady breath.

Two...

"Jazz hands..."

Three...

"FLASH!"

I flared my hands out and my claws connected with a hard substance that made me cry out in pain and pull my hands back. The person grabbed me suddenly and I shrieked.

The door burst open and Uncle Changbin was lunging claws out. Another person flew and slammed him hard into the wall just as Uncle Minho ran for me.

My gaze locked on the corner of the room. There was a woman who looked like my mommy dressed differently, like the olden days.. I was pulled out of my window as my uncles shouted.

Something pricked my arm and then the world went dark.

It was so hot... so hot he couldn't move. The heat crushing him place almost.. He looked up as he heard the door to the chamber open.

"Time to eat." the maid said as she set the food in front of Hyunjin.

He stared at it for a long time and as he reached for it he heard a voice.

It's the food...

And he pulled back, smacking the food away with his tail and shouting. "LET ME GO!"

The maid looked at him for a moment, before she shook her head and walked away.

I struggled for a moment before I heard the voice.. her voice... "Hyunjin... it's almost time."

You stood there in shock. Chan was very quiet. Changbin winced as Jeongin dabbed at the wounds on his neck.

"It was the royal guard." Minho said softly.

You looked at the floor, squeezing your necklace...

"Why would they take her.." Chan finally spoke.

Yongbok twirled his thumbs. "How did they even know she existed?!"

Seungmin sighed. "If it's the royal guard it had to have been a roayl decree."

"HOW WOULD KING JINYOUNG HAVE EVEN KNOWN ABOUT HER THOUGH?!" Jisung shouted. "THEY COULD KILL HER!"

The boys went quiet and Chan said softly. "He's been king for a long time."

The others looked at him.

"Chan what are you thinking.." Seungmin whispered.

Chan sat up straight. "I guess I owe you all an explanation."

If there was ever a merboy King Jinyoung put effort into. That boy would be Chan. That boy who was made to be a model king, his parents were impossibly proud of him for being so close to the king. It was when he was thirteen the king really took him in. Fight like this. Kill humans like that. Humans are evil because of this.

It was when Chan met his friends things became a little different, he was freer, the group following him around as it grew, and Hyunjin... Hyunjin who told Chan first where he got his necklace... who told Chan first he felt drawn to you.. who told Chan first that the child was his.. who trusted his love and daughter to Chan.

And Chan gradually slipped away from the king of the sea. But everyone knew.. from the Arctic to the southern most sea, and all the way back again they all knew the next king of the sea was going to be Chan.

And Chan neglected his duty.

"If we're going to get her," Jisung stared at you. "You need to blend into the sea."

You pursed your lips. "Huh-"

Seungmin hummed and circled you. "An octopus or a sea horse..."

"I think she'd make a good shark woman personally." Minho said.

"I agree." Jeongin seconded.

You made a face. "Why can't I be a pretty mermaid like you guys?"

"Because," Yongbok huffed, "Not all of us look the same." He cleared his throat and glanced at Changbin, "First girlfriend had tentacles."

Changbin shouted. "SHE WAS REALLY PRETTY THOUGH!"

They all shrugged.

"Don't listen to them." Chan sighed. "I have something ready already."

They all looked at Chan.

"Watch him make her some ugly black thing-"

"Betta cross." Chan said, looking you over, "Y/N would look good as a Betta fish with a mix of mandarin... Don't you all agree?"

The boys tilted their heads at you.

"Yes." Minho said.

"Definitely." Changbin smiled.

"She'd look gorgegous." Jisung jumped.

"Stunning." Felix nodded.

Seungmin shrugged.

"I think she'd look really pretty." Jeongin agreed.

"What on earth-" You started but the men practically dragged you to your car and put you in the drivers seat, before crowding in your van.

"Drive." Chan said. "We're going to the beach."

for yall who are wondering this is a betta fish (siamese fighting fish).

Chan stared at the shore. "This brings back memories..." He exhaled slowly.

"It's now or never." Jeongin huffed, taking off his expensive human trinkets and leaving them in your car.

You stared at the sea. "If they hurt my baby. I'll dump plastic."

The boys all blinked at you in shock.

"Gimme the pill." You huffed.

Chan cleared his throat and put the pill in your hand.

The boys jumped into the water one by one and you watched as they swam away, clothes washing up to the shore.

You looked at Chan who tilted his head to the water, "After you."

You sucked in a breath and jumped into the water, shoving the pill into your mouth and gasping, watching the bubbles float to the surface before you tried to move you legs. You looked down and shrieked.

Jisung and Seungmin snickered at your reaction.

Yongbok swam around happily. "YOU'RE SO PRETTY!"

You looked at them. Chan dove into the water and you turned away as his legs became one and when you looked back, there was a dark blue tail.

He smiled. "The look suits you..."

You looked down at the big tail, sparkling scales and pretty frills waving and wafting in the current. Hyunjin would've thought it was so gorgeous..

You exhaled. "Lets go."

You followed the boys deep into the water, the coral grew larger, then you saw another merman swim by. Your eyes widened at the sight of a more merpeople, the boys weren't lying, they were all built differently. Some with octopus arms and others with shark teeth.

You pursed your lips as a merman with a striped tail in gold, brown, and black like a lionfish..

Jeongin nudged you. "He's venomous.."

You blinked a few times and nodded. "Noted."

You felt like the merpeople you passed were staring at you and suddenly you forgot how to work your tail. Could they tell you were human..?

Jisung turned and grabbed you, dragging you after the rest of the group. "You're pretty, like.. top tier mermaid princess kind of pretty.." He smiled. "It's natural for them to stare. They'd think the mother of the sea blessed you with her beauty."

You tried to assure yourself that they couldn't tell you were human.

Chan swam towards a huge rock structure and smiled at you. "The person in here is trustworthy." He motioned for you to enter.

You saw a very pretty mermaid with big black eyes her tail was gold and yellow with black spots and there was spines all over it.

"Chan... who is this pretty girl and why is this the first time I'm meeting her?" She circled you a few times and her tail swished happily. "Is she a model for me?"

"Rin-" Chan started but the mermaid lifted your arms and started using a length of something to measure you.

"Rin she's-" Seungmin tried.

"I have just the thing for you darling!" She started running off to get something but Chan grabbed her arm and dragged her back.

"She's human!" He whispered shouted.

Rin's eyes widened. "This is Hyunjin's.."

The boys nodded.

She smiled at you, much calmer than before. "I'm Rin, I'm glad to finally meet you."

"Rin." Yongbok said, "Did the royal guard bring a little human girl through?"

"They did actually." She sighed. "While you were gone King Jinyoung said he'd found the Heart of the Sea."

Chan's eyes widened. "What?"

"It's encased in something, they say the girl is the key to opening it." She looked at you. "That girl is your daughter isn't she?"

You nodded and took a few breaths trying to collect yourself.

Changbin took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Can you keep her h-"

"No!" You snapped, pulling away from Changbin. "I'm not staying when some 500 year old man kidnapped my daughter! No! I'm going with you!"

Chan pursed his lips. "Please... Y/N-"

"I'm going and you can't stop me." You touched your face as something behind your ears flared.

Minho hummed. "She's still pretty while she's angry."

"Fine." Chan sighed. "Hands up."

You put your hands up and he flared his hands before baring his nails at you. You jumped back on instinct as his claws appeared.

"Do it." He glared at you. "If you can't, you can't come with us."

You shrank under his condescending gaze.

"Well?" Chan raised a brow at you.

Rin swam between you two. "You're scaring her Chan."

"Stay." He told you.

"Chan that isn't fair to her-" Rin started.

"Yea-" Jeongin started.

The appendages behind Chan's ears flared and he shouted. "She stays. That's final."

The boys and Rin all went quiet.

"Let's go." Chan huffed, swimming out.

The boys looked at you and swam after him, Yongbok smiled at you. "We'll get her back.."

Hyunjin tugged at the chains. He pulled and pulled until his wrists went raw.

"Food time." the maid entered and the heat from the bubbling hydrothermal vents calmed somewhat.

Hyunjin looked at her. "What's happening up there... It's loud."

"The king has found the key to the Heart of the Sea. The sacrifice is in two days time." She said as she set the food down. "I suggest you stop struggling, by the time you get out that half human brat will be dead."

Hyunjin's eyes widened. "If you scum touch her-" Hyunjin tuggd at his chains with all his might and he felt them shift in the sand.

"What will you do?" a voice said behind the maid.

She quickly bowed and excused herself.

Jinyoung stared down at Hyunjin. "I'm going to restore the Merman empire. And when I do, merpeople like you will stop existing."

Hyunjin's eyes narrowed. "You're a monster."

"A monster who cares for his people. And if I have to kill a few humans to reach my goal... So be it."

Hyunjin tore from his chains and vaulted for Jinyoung.

The older merman was stronger than he looked, throwing Hyunjin hard against the rock of the dungeon.

Hyunjin's vision blurred as he slumped to the floor. He saw a luminescent something before he felt the sting and his vision went dark.

Jinyoung stared at the almost diamond casing of the heart of the sea. He looked at the child sleeping in the bubble, it resembled Hyunjin so much.

He held the dagger Chan and his friends had recovered. This was for his people..

"Your highness." a servant entered and bowed, "Chan is here."

"Send him in." Jinyoung covered the child with the seaweed curtains and turned as Chan entered the room.

"My king." Chan bowed.

"Chan, please."

Chan looked up and locked eyes with him. "It's been almost two years since Hyunjin disappeared..."

"A tragedy really." Jinyoung swam to the wall of his study and traced the shelf.

"He had a lover." Chan said softly. "A lover I promised to protect.. and he had a child a child I'd give my life for."

Jinyoung turned eyes wide, the appendages behind his ears flaring. "That half human bastard child!"

"She is not a bastard child!" Chan's eyes narrowed. "In 2 days the moon will be full and at its strongest, the tides low, the fish will move for the coast. The Coral Palace will be accessible. If we have the Heart of the Sea."

"So what?" Jinyoung glared at Chan... This boy can't read through me.

"The Mother of the Sea blesses one. One person to harness the Heart of the Sea." Chan looked at the seaweed curtain, "And Hyunjin's daughter is missing."

"What' the point of all this? You want me to search for a mista-"

"No." Chan moved so fast, Jinyoung barely saw him before Chan's claws were at his throat. "I challenge you."

"Chan!" Minho and Yongbok came around the corner just in time to see it. Their eyes went wide.

"Park Jinyoung. I, Bang Christopher Chan, challenge you to be King of the Sea." Chan said coldly.

Jinyoung stared at him for a long moment. "I accept.."

You sat with Rin talking about the quality of her clothes.

"But really..." she sighed looking at you. "You shouldn't mind it."

"Don't mind what?" You raised a brow.

"How Chan talks to you..."

You looked at her. "Of course I shou-"

"Chan is going to be the next king one day. Simply by being in contact with you, he's risking his future." She said quietly. "By hiding the secret about your daughter for so long... He's risking his life."

Your eyes widened slightly. "So.."

"He's mean sometimes but it's because he cares.." she smiled, "So don't let that get to you."

You nodded, looking at your hands. "I'm just worried about C/n.. and Hyunjin.."

Rin smiled and took your hand in hers. "It'll be okay..."

She spoke too soon.

"RIN!" Minho entered the coral building with such speed he was dragging bubbled behind him, eyes wide and frantic with fear. "Chan challenged the king!"

He opened his eyes again... he felt so tired.. His sea green eyes looked over the hydrothermal vents and he tugged at his chains. He'd broken free before.. why couldn't he now?

He felt something.. something.

Turn. Hyunjin turn your damn head. He turned his head with so much effort and he saw it. The jellyfish that had stung him. He sucked in a breath and exhaled, how the hell did he let this happen.

"SHIT!" He shouted as he realized what would happen. He pulled at his chains. Y/N, C/N, Chan, Changbin, Yongbok, Jeongin EVERYONE!

Hyunjin pulled at the chains one last time before giving up.

He sank to the floor and grit his teeth as he remembered the last time he'd seen you.

"You'll come back right?" You looked up at him with the saddest look in your eyes.

"Of course I'll come back.. when haven't I?"

And how you'd kissed him as if it was the last time you ever would.

Hyunjin screamed and pulled at the chains again, he looked up at a little ball of light in the distance and somehow he saw you... No.. not you.. but you.. dressed in something so much like the old days hundreds of years ago.

"The Heart of the Sea is here... it's been waiting on you."

By the time you got to the arena area Chan was in the sand, the man he was fighting, who you assumed was Jinyoung, was beating the crap out of him. The other people watched with sad expressions as Chan got punched again..

You swam to the closest place you could to see. "CHAN!"

Minho tried to move over the coral railing as King Jinyoung's claws emerged, but Changbin held him back.

"He's going to kill him!" You shouted.

Jisung grabbed you around your waist and held you back. "That's how the challenge works... the one who lives is king..."

You stared with wide scared eyes as blood swirled into the water. "Chan.."

You tried to pull away from Jisung as Jinyoung released Chan and stood straight. Chan lie there in the sand, blood curling up into the water. Was he dead... Chan... dead?

Something in you snapped and you tore from Jisung's arms with alarming force.

This man. This King of the Sea. He'd kidnapped your daughter. He'd destroyed your peace. He'd forced Hyunjin to go back to the ocean. He'd hurt Chan.

You tore through the water, seeing red, you felt numb. There was nothing but this Jinyoung. This monster.

You raised your hands on instinct and felt your nails shifting on your skin before you really saw red. Your barbed claws buried themselves in Jinyoung's chest just as the royal guards swam for you, just as Chan sprung back up, just as the crowd screamed and a messenger shouted over the arena... "THE SEA DEVIL IS FREE!"

Hyunjin woke up in a bed. It wasn't soft by any means but he wasn't complaining, a familiar warmth was pressed to his chest and he smiled as he held her tighter pressing his nose against he head, the familiar scent filled his nostrils.

He opened his an eye and smiled at you. He barely noticed the sheets looked different.. how strange they felt, he heard something and tensed.

"What is it?" You looked up at him.

"Nothing.." He lied. "Go back to sleep." He got up from the bed, and stepped on to wood flooring. His brows furrowed as he realized... this floor wasn't the one in your house.

He went to the door and felt something looming over it as he opened the door and walked into the hall, the chairs in different rooms looked old... and he saw it... a baby crib... His eyes widened, that wasn't..

The sound of the front door opening made him turn with such speed he could have cracked his neck.

"The oceanic beast is here!" Someone shouted.

Hyunjin turned to run back to your bedroom but someone grabbed him and he shouted, "Y/N!"

He heard you scream as you were dragged from your bedroom.

Hyunjin saw red and before he could stop himself he spun from the people holding him and slashed their throats, Lunging for the men holding you. Heavy metal chains fell around him and he was pulled back baring his claws.

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

And Hyunjin stopped struggling.

He let the people drag him away...

From where he was chained in the village square he'd seen you multiple times, but you were always with someone, they always kept you away... and one night he heard something and looked up.

The moon was full and he saw his people storming the village..

You came running to him, and as you tried to unshackle his chains he stared with wide eyes as a long dagger, tore through you. "Y/N!"

Your grip on his chains slackened and Hyunjin tore away from where he was held about to lunge for the person but he froze. It was a boy... a merboy, no older than 16.

"Human devils and Sea devils are the banes of this world. You should die!" The boy shouted.

And as he opened his mouth to shout a human sword ran him through.

"You can't let the past repeat itself..."

He looked up at you. Or what looked like you.

"You have to go now..."

"But-"

"Hyunjin..." You leaned to him and kissed him gently. "Give me your air."

Hyunjin screamed and tore his chains from the ground, swimming to the stalactite edge of his enclosure and pounding on it before he slammed into it and the rock crumpled. He swam up frantically towards light, and surfaced in the remnants of the Coral Palace.

He stared around for a long time. Then his ear appendages twitched and he turned in the direction of the New Palace.

Jinyoung held his chest and stumbled back. His eyes widening at the sight of you. "HUMAN!"

The crowd gasped and Chan stood in front of you, defensively, "She's trustworthy-"

"NO HUMAN IS TRUSTWORTHY! ARREST HER!"

"Your highness, the moon-" A frantic servant tried to say but Jinyoung pushed him aside and swam for the palace.

Guards circled you and Chan as the others tried to get to you and the crowd began to panic.

"UP!" Chan grabbed you and slammed his tail hard, sending you shooting upwards before he released you and began to swim as fast as he could.

You followed before you looked back. "I can't.."

Chan looked at you. "Y/n! We need to go!"

"Chan..." You breathed before turning back to the palace. "She's all I have."

Before he could stop you, you swam around the guards and followed Jinyoung into the palace. You followed the merman as he swerved through the palace and then you finally caught up to him as he stopped in front of a seaweed curtain.

"JINYOUNG!"

He pulled out a bubbled and turned to you. Inside the bubble was.. your daughter..

The artifact Hyunjin had stolen from the museum in his other hand. "With this dagger... Mother of the Sea... Bless the Heart! And devour Man."

You screamed as he raised the dagger. "NO!" You swam for him but something was faster, grabbing Jinyoung and slashing his face. He dropped the bubble and you dove for it. Looking up, you stared in shock at the familiar figure. "Hyunjin.."

"You want the heart..." he said lowly, raking his claw over his palm, blood coiled from the wound into the water as Hyunjin grabbed a crystal locked object.

You stared at it. Jin-young sprang up to attack Hyunjin but something slowed him...

Hyunjin gripped the crystal and shouted. "COME GET IT!"

And it shattered.

Jin-young stared at him. "This can't be... You're not- You can't- You... You love that HUMAN! You're not one of us! TRAITOR! LIAR! DEVIL!"

Hyunjin tossed the crystal to the ground before staring a beautiful blue pearl.

"This... is for 500 years ago." Hyunjin grabbed the dagger from the floor and stabbed the pearl.

Jin-young screamed and lunged for him but Chan swam past you and grabbed the shrieking king. "Your dynasty is over."

Hyunjin's brows furrowed before he swam and covered your eyes. And yet you couldn't mistake the sound of Jin-young's neck breaking.

It took several hours to get everything handled with your daughter as she couldn't believe Hyunjin was back. Chan was going to recover and the planning of a formal coronation was under way. It was early the next morning, when you finally got home, settling your daughter into bed. But now you had questions.

"Where were you.." you whispered as you returned your home.

Hyunjin looked at you. "Jinyoung ordered me to return and kept me when I tried to leave. He... he imprisoned me in the Coral Palace and I saw... you..."

You looked into his eyes. "You were gone. I thought you-"

Hyunjin remembered what he begged Chan to do and bit his plump lip.

"I thought you left us." You whispered.

Hyunjin fell from the couch on his knees in front of you. "No... Jagiya no..." he breathed. "I would never."

You felt the tears welling in your eyes as he took your hands in his. "I'm sorry... you've been struggling and I just-"

"No. Don't apologize. I.. I should've figured out something-"

"You were in a dungeon, I was just here and-" the tears started streaming down your face before you could stop them. "C/n would ask where you were and I wouldn't know what to say.."

Hyunjin took your face in his hands and shushed you, wiping your tears. "You did amazing..." He whispered. "You are amazing.."

You looked into his pretty green eyes as you tried to control your tears. "I missed you.."

He smiled gently and leaned to press his forehead against yours. "I'm here... I'm finally back... And I'm never going to go again.."

You kissed him softly. He held you against him, pushing his tongue past your lips and sighing as he tasted you for the first time in so long. "Let me..." He breathed.

"What..." You exhaled.

"Make you mine. I want you to meet my parents." He muttered. "But first-"

You didn't let him finish his sentence before you pounced on him.

Your lips were molded to his in a desperate heated kiss as you ran your fingers through his long hair. He muttered against your lips "I love you so much..." as he lifted you, hands firmly on your butt with your legs wrapped around his waist.

He carried you to your bedroom, lip never leaving yours as he set you down on the bed, leaning into you, pulling your shirt over your head as you worked at his pants. He smiled against your lips after he pulled the shirt off you, "Shit, I missed this.."

You gasped as his lips moved to your throat and he bit gently at the skin before kissing and licking at your chest as you mewled softly.

He lifted you and unclipped your bra before taking your of your nipples into his mouth. He groaned as you pulled off his pants just enough to palm at his cock through his boxers. He moved lower kissing at your stomach before kneeling as he pulled your pants and panties off, looking up at you past your breasts. His eyes met yours, pupils blown wide with desire.

His green eyes trailed to your pussy before he leaned in and kissed your clit gently before giving it gentle licks.

You whined and grabbed at his hair.

"Shh.." He hummed, "I've got you pretty thing." He took one of your hands in his and your fingers intertwined as he began licking and sucking at your clit.

You tugged at his hair and gasped, "Hyunjin-"

He groaned into your womanhood, the vibrations sending sparks down your spine before he pushed a long finger into you. You moaned at the stretch and Hyunjin hummed.

"You missed me filling your pretty pussy?" he whispered as he moved his finger in and out green eyes admiring the way your slick coated the digit, before he pushed in another.

You gasped as he curled his fingers to rub your g-spot. He fingered you faster, grinding his palm against your clit, you moaned louder as you felt the familiar knot tightening in you gut. Hyunjin moved up and kissed you moaning as you pulled his hair.

Hyunjin released your hand and took his hand to your clit, rubbing in figure 8 motions as you moaned.

"Cum for me, baby.." He whispered.

And the knot inside you snapped, you jerked as your vision went white and Hyunjin continued fingering you stretching your orgasm thin.

He pulled away and drew his fingers out slowly, admiring your slick as he licked his fingers clean, groaning at your taste. He pulled his shirt and pants off, dragging the boxers as well before grabbing your legs and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

He looked down in you eyes as he took his shaft into his hand, rubbing the tip against you slit and slapping it against your clit. You whimpered and he smiled as he pushed into you before leaning over you.

You both moaned as he sank into your tight heat.

"I love you so much..." he breathed, kissing you as he pulled out. He pushed in slowly and the kiss swallowed your moans as he repeated the motion, pushing into you over and over. He pulled away to look into your eyes before he stood to his full height and grabbed your hips.

You gasped as he began fucking into you roughly, desperately, even, as if you might disappear, as if he were dreaming. You moaned as his cock reached deep inside you, brushing your cervix.

"I missed you so much... I thought you'd forgotten me... moved on.. given yourself to someone else." He groaned and and wrapped your legs around his waist, moving you up on the bed and slowing his thrusts. "This is mine.." He kissed your hand,"mine." he kissed your stomach, "mine..." he the valley between your breasts, "mine.." he kissed your lips, "mine. You are mine.." He slammed into you so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs and the bed creaked.

"Hyunjn-" You reached to hold onto him and he took your hand again, kissing your palm as he started pounding into you again, his eyes glazed over and distant but at the same time so focused on you and only you.

You the human he learned to trust. You the girl he used to think about all the time. You the girl who seemed to be everywhere he was. You the only woman he would ever love. You his human.. the mother of his child.. his savior.. you.. the Heart of the Sea.

"I'm not leaving you again... never.." he breathed as he moved faster. "'M going to stay for our little family.. for you." He leaned down and kissed you, muffling your cries as he picked up the pace. "I'm going to cum..."

You gasped and whined as you felt the knot building in you again. "Me too.."

He licked two fingers and brought them to your clit. "Come on jagiya, you can give me one more baby..." He rubbed furiously. "Please he whined and you came again, pussy clenching tightly on Hyunjin.

He moaned and grit his teeth as he came as well. His hips bucked to yours as he released load after load into you before falling over you, holding himself up with his forearms.

You pulled him down to you, his head resting on your bare chest, sweat slicked bodies pressed together and you whispered, running your hand through his damp hair, "I love you, Hyune... Welcome home.."

Tags

@asahisimpnation

[leonw4nter]

Siren!RE4R!Leon drabbles

(Read while listening to this! Also, this is a re-upload because the first version of this drabble had some issues and I just had to fix those, particularly in similarities with other works.)

Siren!Leon who lures in sailors with his pretty face towards the rocks or stormy seas, ripping apart humans who fall for the superficial and relish in the fresh taste of their blood.

Siren!Leon who prefers being solitary, preying on ships alone. He doesn't need anyone by his side; it’s best to survive alone, with no liability hanging around him that could possibly complicate things. He likes it simple, and prefers it this way too.

Siren!Leon who spotted you from afar, walking on the shoreline with your skirt lifted. He observed you from behind a sunning rock, a storm-hued gaze intently studying your movements. He sees you waddle over to a rock near shore, sitting on it but letting your legs stay submerged. A pleased expression is on your face, your legs swinging in the warm seawater.

Siren!Leon who saw you frequent that rock, doing the same thing each time– same time, same rock, same duration on keeping your legs soaked in the water. He began bringing small fish and shellfish to the rocks with the hopes of grabbing your attention though every time, without fail, you always toss his bait back to the sea; you’re a lot more intelligent than he thought. It’s going to be a lot harder to make a meal out of you.

Siren!Leon who finds himself in the midst of a hunt in a bad storm, the waves tossing and turning him beneath angry waves. He managed to catch and eat his fill but the water violently thrashed him, the world turning upside-down and dark. He wakes up when he feels a tugging sensation on his tail, seeing you try to drag him back to the water by tail, grunting with effort. He looks at himself and spots how pale and green he’s gotten due to being exposed to the land for a long time.

Siren!Leon who is secretly thankful for your help because had you not tugged him back to the water, he’d be good as dry and dead. He must’ve hit his head or body while he was unconscious, his joints sore and a dull pain throbbing somewhere from behind his eye. He decides to stick to a diet of small fish and crustaceans for now, humans much too formidable for his injured state. When he’s back to full health, he begins bringing you more crabs and fish– his own way of saying thank you to you.

Siren!Leon who finally gets the courage to approach you, aware that his webbed fingers and long nails may look scary along with his sharpened teeth. He explains that he’s been the one bringing the fish and shells and that he’s seen you on that sunning rock many times. He puts off the idea of eating you, his conscience not letting him do that after you’ve just saved him. You explain to him that the reason you only douse your legs are because of a certain skin ailment, your doctors prescribing the medicinal properties of seawater for your condition.

Siren!Leon who suggests wrapping seaweed and kelp for your legs. Though the idea is funny, you let him do that though you have a bit of a distrust towards him. He wraps your legs delicately, making sure that the aquatic plant is on your skin comfortably. You let him do that each time you come to the rock, seeing significant improvements on the welts in your legs– it hurts and itches less now.

Siren!Leon who finds himself frowning when it’s time for you to go, hoping that the sun rises faster than the moon can sink so it’s another day for you to come back again. Soon, the thoughts of walking on land swim into his mind– how do humans live? What do you do there? What do you eat? A fuzzy feeling washes over his chest the more he thinks about you– it’s as if there’s a storm raging in his heart but he doesn’t feel very bad about it, just the opposite in fact. Now, he spends the night looking for pearls and pretty shells to give to you. You’ve also seemed to take a liking for shrimp, so he looks for those too. There was one time where you brought back a cooked version of the shrimps he gave you, letting him have a bite and it tastes totally different. It doesn’t suit his appetite but it suits yours and that is enough to satiate his cravings.

Siren!Leon whose feelings for you grow everyday, the urge to crawl on the shore and follow you to wherever you live clawing its way to the front of his mind. Being alone out in the great ocean without you is no longer the life Leon wants to have for himself; why had he deprived himself of company? Was it because fate made him wait for you to waltz into his life? Was this solitude him subconsciously reserving himself for you? He would do whatever it takes to be able to join you in land– learn how to write, count, eat food cooked, and keep his nails trimmed.

Siren!Leon who enjoys hearing you read aloud and describe how your day went in full detail. He discovered that he enjoys books, loving it the most when you read to him. He never really cared about words or readings, his past self would think that those were simply symbols plastered on a surface– nothing deeper than that. Here he is, begging you to read him one more chapter before you leave again because whenever you read the symbols plastered on refined tree bark, your voice has given them beauty and deeper meaning.

“I wish I could see the world you live in, even for just an evening,” You gently confess to him, curious about the world of turquoise beneath foamy waves.

“You have my eyes. I’ll tell you everything there is in here.” Leon reassures with a toothy smile, sharp teeth bared but it doesn’t scare you. Your soul is a constellation of the brightest stars, his eyes dedicated to be mesmerized for you and you only like he’s your astrologer.

Siren!Leon who spends the night gathering all the treasures, pearls, shells, stones, and kelp that he can. He crawls to the shore where land and water clash, praying that the tides don’t wash away the artwork he lays out for you. Of course, he doesn’t fail to adorn your rock with other pretty things. His mind works with two different things at the same time: the art he lays out and how to put his feelings into words.

Siren!Leon who waits for you eagerly, staying in shallow waters where anyone can see the glisten of his tail. All night he looked after every single rock and shell, making sure that not a single bit of his work was misplaced or moved by the tides, even in the daytime when the sun was branding the surface with its searing touch. After what seemed like forever, he finally sees you approaching the shoreline. He can’t hold back anymore: he crawls into the shore, hands clawing at the sand to drag himself to you.

“Leon, please get in the water.” You urge him with a shaky voice, placing your trembling hands on his shoulders.

“Why–”

“Please, just get in the water!”

He turns around and crawls back to the sea but he avoids the intricately laid out shells and stones as he makes his way back. He looks back at you but you stay behind on the shore, not even aware that the ground you’re in is a large mosaic of a sea turtle migration that Leon made.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” He worriedly asks.

You hear sounds from behind you: the loud grunts of men with their fishing lines, nets, and harpoons storming towards the coastline. You have no time, urging Leon farther from shallower waters.

“You need to hide,” you tell him. He stays there, staring at you with a puzzled expression. “Hurry! They’re coming this way!”

You urge him farther but he isn’t budging, coming nearer to you instead with pleading eyes.

“I’ll tell them that you swam off, okay?” Your voice grows increasingly shaky, an uncomfortable lump lodging in your throat. Leon swims closer, crawling nearer to the shore where people can easily see him.

“Don’t follow me,” you plead with him as tears begin to brim on your waterline, a delicate balance between holding on and setting him free. “Go away, you idiot! You’ll die if you come with me!”

Despite all your pleas with him, it falls on deaf ears as Leon still crawls closer to you, his heart shattering at how distressed you look; you didn't even notice what he worked on all night, you didn’t even raise your skirt above your ankles. With each advance Leon makes, you move back, moving further from the sea. Your tears are finally let loose, forming rivers of pain on your cheeks. Sobs wrack your body, your figure trembling from the emotions setting itself free from the confines of your aching heart. Leon can only watch and hope that his mere presence is enough to soothe you, unable to stand and wipe those tears from your face.

“Go!” He inches closer. “Piss off! I hate you!” He inches closer again, placing a comforting hand against your foot but you move further away, a jolt of disbelief settling unpleasantly in his system. “Get your dirty hands away from me! Just leave me, you goddamn fool!”

Now you’re screaming, hoping that the wind would drown out your pained cries. You’re sobbing loudly, tears spilling like endless rain. Leon is still inching closer towards shore, desperation gnawing at him despite his silence.

“Don’t you follow me!” You shriek. He stops moving forward and just gazes up at you with a pleading gaze, his eyes heavy with the weight of tears yet to fall.

“Don’t go.” He softly begs, tenderly wrapping webbed limbs around your ankle as casts his head down. You cry even harder now, your soul unravelling like embroidery with each wail. A tear of Leon’s cascades down his cheek, saltier than his turquoise home. You move further and retreat inland, freeing yourself from his gentle hand but he crawls after you.

“Go away! I’m going away now!” You scream, picking up a pebble and throwing it towards his direction. The pebble hits his cheek, the crimson a contrast against his pale skin.

“I’m sorry! Just… don’t follow me!”

He doesn’t follow you anymore, watching you run back towards the land without sparing a single look to the poor siren who you’ve enchanted with the song of your kind heart.

Siren!Leon who risks getting caught by hunters on the shore by waiting for you, fixing the rocks and shells on the coastline so it’ll be pretty when you come back.

NOTE - As I said earlier, this is a re-upload of the same drabble I posted last night but there's changes in terms of lines and content because one of the parts I added was a little too similar to another author's drabbles and I didn't mean to do that so ofc I took the post down to fix it and apologized to the author so there's that. The Siren!Leon concept was inspired by @bumblebeesfromvenus drabble so go check it out coz it's so good!!! Anyways, that's it and tysm for reading my drabble!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUU

[sweetbunpura]

Boojiboo?

The faint sounds of the waves filled the air as the gentle breeze rustled the leaves. Yuu and Floyd were laying on the hanging bed, Floyd's leg was dangling over the edge into the sand as he gently rocked them. Yuu had her head on his chest, green eyes watching as the mer eel strummed at the ukulele.

"This is nice, despite the circumstances." She softly said while Floyd hummed in agreement.

"Yeah~ It's mad fun~" He chirped. "We even getta fight~"

"Stitch even made me a weapon too, so I finally get to help."

"Tired of usin' your fists, Shrimpy?" He teased and Yuu moved her hand up to ruffle his hair.

"I can't punch metal."

"Not with that attitude~"

"If this is how you're gonna act, I'm leaving." She made to get up, only to be pulled back down by him. "Floyd."

"Shrimpy~" He smiled and leaned up to softly kiss her, which she returned.

The two were unaware of the audience watching them from the bungalow behind them. Stitch had poked his head through the bars of the railing, staring at the couple before retreating into the house for the night. Yuu and Floyd joined everyone inside after a few moments, both covered in sand as they had toppled out of the hammock earlier. The black girl shoved at Floyd with a smile on her face and a shake of her head as Riddle commanded that both of them get the sand off before it gets everywhere.

The next morning found the group chilling on the beach, Ace and Jack took to surfing again while Lilia coached Azul and Riddle in the art of the tropical dance. Floyd was grilling fish with a smile on his face as he swayed to some beat in his head. Grim was watching the food with wide eyes and drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. Yuu sat on the shore, playing with the hermit crabs as they crawled all over her.

"Yuu?" The prefect turned to see Stitch as he came up and sat beside her.

"Hey, Stitch, what's up?"

He pointed at Floyd and looked at her. "Boojiboo?"

Yuu, having knowledge of Stitch's language, looked over at eel and then back down at him. "Boojiboo."

With a smile, Stitch got up and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet and pulling her over to the merman. Stitch then grabbed Floyd's hand and clasped the two of them together with his hands over theirs.

"Boojiboo!" He loudly said.

Yuu laughed as Floyd fixed both her and the experiment with a confused look.

Boojiboo is a term of endearment usually in the romantic sense

[binah-beloved]

Decay Amidst the Seafoam

Queequeg x Reader Mermaid AU Pronouns: Gender Neutral Warnings: Description of injuries

~ * ~

There’s froth on the waves today. That’s good. It means you can see the water’s color, a deep blue rather than fog and gray flecks. It’s temperamental, the ocean. Always, even on the brightest of days and the clearest of nights, it rages just beneath the surface. You’ve learned to love it in a way, nurture rather than fight its unrelenting anger like so many of your crewmates. It’s more peaceful that way. More grateful, the both of you. No matter where you went or what you did, you were always drawn back to the sea in the end, the waves tugging at your feet and thoughts. So you board a ship headed for the end of the world, in pursuit of the whales and stingrays and jellyfish. Where it’s going isn’t important. You’re happiest with the breeze in your hair and the smell of salt in the air. There’s nowhere better than here, despite the distance and lonesome days.

Fishing is commonplace. Nets and hooks and harpoons to catch and kill even the strongest beasts. Although those creatures are rarely seen- the traps fill mostly with ordinary fish and crabs to be sold at various docks and shores. Occasionally a fish will be too small, those are the ones you like the most. The tiny, writhing things you cup in your hands and slip back into the ocean, to grow and live and thrive. They wriggle once they hit the water, splashing over your fingers and disappearing through the murky waves, and you smile, waving goodbye. Goodbye, goodbye, farewell. Live happy and free. The sound of yelling and shouts reaches your ears, a morning with the sun high in the sky. For a moment you barely spare a glance, busily knotting ropes together, but the commotion increases and heightens and jabs at your senses until you clap your hands down and rise to your feet, blocking out the noise with your palms. A coworker rushes and tugs on your arm, yanking you in the direction of the horrid din. It’s loud and awful and you hate it, but there’s a crowd surrounding one of the nets whispering about how they don’t want to deal with it, make you deal with it.

You’re pushed forward and come face-to-face with a very trapped, livid sea monster. A mermaid- maybe, that would be the right term. You’re not sure. Siren, perhaps? Whatever the word, the poor creature thrashes and struggles, her long tail tangled and jerking in the tight grip of the net. She growls viciously at you and everyone, a low, threateningly guttural sound, but there’s blood on her face and valleys of crushed scales where the ropes wrap around her and you can’t help but approach, holding your hands up where she can see them. A spark of fear flashes through her eyes, all brown and gold and narrow, but she bares her teeth and hisses deeper, ragged fins flaring in sharp lines. You sigh, turning and shooing the rest of the crew away with a quick motion. They stare in disbelief, more worried about their potential catch, and you give them a steely look that sends them scampering and trickling away until it’s just you. Just you and an angry, scared mercreature.

Perhaps your captain wasn’t lying when she called you an excellent candidate for successor. The sea beast shuffles away from you when you look back, pressed against the rail of the ship. Her chest rises and falls, too quickly, and slowly you kneel and sit on the deck, hands upturned. She’s taller when you’re sitting. Overall, too, her long tail curled in coils of dark green scales. You don’t mention the tattoos and scars littering her body, the claws that lash out and graze your skin; fixing your gaze with hers, you sit a little ways away and speak quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I need to get close to help, alright?”

It does little to curve the fear in her eyes, but her talons curl into her webbed hands and she sits, silently, watching your every move. You try not to stare. Really, you try. You focus on the ropes and net, the stains of blood against algae and beige. But your gaze still contains a hint of awe as you gingerly unwind her fins, meticulous around the crushed scales until you finally pull and toss the net to the side. A soft, relieved sound escapes her, a combination of a sigh and a whimper, and for a moment longer the mermaid observes you with a piercing stare, almost curious as her breaths slow and steady. Then she shakes out her dark braids and bows her head slightly to you, leaping over the side and back into the sea without a word. Droplets of water hit your face, and you blink and sit in shock with the world quiet all around you apart from the distant cries of the gulls.

The sun begins to set in fiery orange and pink. It’s replaced by deep twilight and stars, and the ship sails onward. Goodbye, goodbye, farewell. I hope I see you again. The next night is met with cold winds and clouds, all the rabble packed away in the cabins while you tidy up outside. The ropes are rough and twined. You’re used to it. There are constellations of calluses on your palms and a few on your arms. They’re like tiny treasures, gemstones that don’t sparkle but rather help you grip your tools, the harpoons and knives and hammers and screwdrivers around the ship. The boat rocks, once, and you continue neatly wrapping the ropes you braided together. You hear a splash somewhere from behind, then a thud. It’s not quiet, louder than when an unfortunate bird accidentally flies directly into the mast. A pair of familiar brown-gold eyes meet your own and you automatically stumble back from a cold jolt of surprise.

The merbeast’s ears flick when you fall into a sit, pointed and webbed with a dark green tinge, just like her scales, her long tail draped messily over the railing. All you can do is sit, mouth slightly open, as she slowly shifts and inches towards you, tilting her head. Her tail slithers almost like a snake, the fins torn, riddled with holes and approaching you cautiously from across the deck until she’s only a foot or so away. She’s still taller. Looming over you, gaze sharp and keenly aware. You don’t dare move- there are two outcomes, one ending in her fear and the other ending in your blood being spilled. Neither sound appealing. So instead you simply stare at each other, even though your wrists are beginning to burn from how your hands are bent against the deck. The creature’s ears twitch once more, and light as a feather her tail fin brushes against one of your legs before withdrawing again.

You blink. She blinks. Slowly you raise a hand and give her a cautious wave, and she mimics the gesture, fingers much stronger than your own. You can’t help how your lips curve into a small, genuine smile, and the mermaid’s dark eyes glint with something curious and satisfied. She returns the next evening. And the next. And the next, the wounds from that dreaded net healing day by day. Always at night, and always when everyone else has gone off to bed, with the same splash and thump. For a bit you think she might be scoping out you as a potential meal, but she only sits by you and watches intently. Whatever you do, whether it’s work or rope weaving or something calm like reading, she stares and observes. She doesn’t directly touch you- not for a while, apart from light grazes from her tail and hair, merely drawing ever so slightly closer with each visit. Sometimes you’ll idly talk to her and she listens in silence. You ask her lighthearted questions, and she tips her head with no response. It’s alright. Her presence alone is oddly comfortable, and gradually her stiff posture relaxes until her braids often drift over your skin.

You ask her what her name is, every day, and she says nothing until a week and one night have passed. “Queequeg.” Her voice is quiet and deep and initially you think you imagined it. But she repeats the word firmly and follows it by very gently nudging her head against your shoulder. “Queequeg.” That evening her tail curls lightly around you, and you see her smile, and it’s small and warm and safe.

Queequeg seems to have deemed you the same, habitually wrapping herself more and more around your body each day until she’s practically snuggling with you, entirely unashamed. She still doesn’t talk much, preferring to hear your voice instead, but when she does it’s soft and careful, like her mouth isn’t used to the words. You’re allowed to touch her as well, running your fingers over her scales and webbed hands and ears, the ropes knotted around her arms and wrists, and when you reach her cheek Queequeg’s eyes close and she nuzzles into your palm with a subtle purr. And she does the same to you, cupping your face in her claws and bumping her forehead against yours, pressing the tip of your noses together.

Her eyes shine with some sort of tender delight, and you can’t help but smile back. Her favorite resting place is your lap, her head pressing to your legs as you idly fiddle with her long braids. She did them herself, she tells you with a hint of pride, even the gold cuffs, and you hum as she lightly bites and nibbles your fingers, leaving faint indents behind. “You’re silly,” you mumble to her, rubbing a thumb beneath her eyes. Silly and sweet and gentle for such a ferocious, intimidating creature. She simply bares her sharp teeth at you without a hint of malice, the stars coming out up above.

Queequeg loves the sunset and the stars. They make fiery colors and silver in her hair and eyes, across her glinting scales. She watches the sky, and you watch her with all your attention. You do your best to recount any stories of constellations you’ve heard to her, even if you’ve forgotten. There are stories from her, too, whispered in halting sentences as she grips her arms, digging at the tattoos she despises. The scars speckled across her dark skin become clearer, more vivid, but she clasps your hands in hers and meets your eyes with a firm stare. “Listen. I tell you. Trust you.” You suck in a breath, only able to nod, and she brings your hands up and holds them to her forehead, then her lips.

She calls you hers on that chilly evening, ears lowering in a rare show of nervousness. But you just lean up and kiss her forehead, Queequeg’s breath catching as she cuddles insistently closer to you. The ship doesn’t feel so lonesome anymore, not with a constant friend beneath the waves. Your crewmates wonder and ask how you went from quiet and withdrawn to happy overnight. Still quiet, but happy. And you just shrug with a laugh, that you don’t really know, and they clap you on the shoulders and laugh along with you. They don’t have to know. They’ve all forgotten the peculiar sea monster in the net, by now. You and Queequeg are each other’s special secret.

One day you encounter a whale and it sends everyone into a tizzy. It rips the sky and sea apart, the lightning illuminating the pouring, drenching rain as you and your coworkers scramble to right the ship and not be swallowed by foam and saltwater. It’s loud, so horribly loud, and you wish Queequeg was here to hold you tightly against her chest and block out the noise. Your captain hollers for you to get away, the madness gleaming in her eyes sending a strike of fear into your bones where it sits and settles to corrode. The moment the ship flees from the whale, the storm tapers off into a steady drizzle, a few stains of blood across the deck yet no one worse for wear as gray clouds blanket overhead. That night, Queequeg is nowhere to be found.

You fret, unable to stop yourself. You’ve always worried, been a worrier, and Queequeg is yours. She’s yours, and you’re hers. You spend hours pacing the deck, snapping your head towards the water at any noise only to be met with disappointment, unable to sleep. She doesn’t reappear the next night. Or the ones after that. Your crewmates observe your lethargy and dampened mood with concern, always giving you something to do or work on. In a way, you’re grateful. It distracts you from the hollow, nauseating pit in your stomach. Perhaps they know that, too. Days pass into weeks, into months. Still, no Queequeg. Maybe, you think while choking back tears, she left and forgot about you. Maybe she realized you’re too different. In your loneliest moments, you unearth your last shred of hope and dream otherwise. Goodbye, goodbye, farewell. I miss you.

The wind bats your face, crisp and fresh and smelling like the sea you’ve always loved as your shoes hit the deck, a length of rope in your hands. It’s practice, you say to the others. A special knot you learned from someone. You never tell them who, exactly, but they agree it’s the sturdiest knot that’s been tied. The rope you carry is new, just braided, and the waves splash as you absentmindedly study the new calluses on your skin. Something tackles you, sending your body flying and colliding hard against the wood. You groan in pain, head spinning. An equally distressed growl reaches your ears.

That something is on top of your prone body, draped across and covering almost every inch. It’s long with dark scales, but covered in a horrid white membrane, spreading like veins. Your captain calls it Pallidification. It comes from that whale and eats away at the body and mind, slowly, until you devolve into nothing but a hungry, empty thing. But it’s a familiar face; familiar eyes, familiar ropes now practically fused to the body, familiar braids even though they’re stuck together by pale muck.

Queequeg stares down at you, breathing heavily. Her eyes are wide, pupils dilating and claws holding your shoulders in a vice grip before she abruptly pulls you even closer and holds you tight. A pitiful whine slips from her mouth and cracks your heart in two, her voice garbled and incoherent except for one word. Your name. Which she repeats over and over, holding your cheeks and crying. You, you, you- it’s all she says, pressing close and ignoring your stunned and terrified coworkers. Queequeg coughs, violently, the pallid membrane having engulfed her throat, and buries her face into your shoulder, trembling. All you can do is hug her back, running a hand over her spine, trying not to sob yourself. She shudders under your delicate touch, desperately digging her claws into your clothes with broken croons and gasps; small, quiet, heart wrenching noises.

One brave crewmate takes a step closer, and Queequeg’s fins flare as she whips around and snarls at him. They all back away with a whisper, a few running off to find the captain, but Queequeg’s attention has returned to you and you alone, nudging your hand pleadingly with tears tracking down her features. They’re blurred and warped from the Pallidification, the tattoos she so hated and the scars you spent hours tracing over vanishing as the white tissue consumes her, slowly. She still leans into your palm when you caress her face, gripping you with unspoken words.

Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

The rest of the crew disperses to search for the captain, to capture this strange pallid creature. It’ll lead them toward the whale, the whale they’ve begun pursuing ever since the captain laid eyes upon it. Then the voyage will be over. Everything will end. So they leave you with the monster behind on the deck- it acts oddly docile when it’s focused on only you- to knock against the captain’s door, smelling the smoke from her pipe. It, it, it. They call her an it. Your arms tighten as you frown.

Queequeg slumps in your arms, twining her tail around your leg. The dark green scales you love are coated in white, chewing away at her from the inside out. She used to put her chin atop your head. Now she bumps under your jaw, curling into a tight coil and trying to cling to you, trying to become smaller and disappear because it hurts, everything hurts and she couldn’t get to you and when she finally opened her eyes again you were gone. Now she barely remembers anything other than the pallid, the pallid and the pain and you, you, always you. You alone kept her marginally sane. Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave, don’t make her leave. She nuzzles against your collarbone with an exhausted sigh, fiddling with your hand until she carefully laces your fingers with her webbed ones.

She needs to go, now, or the captain will arrive with her chains and mad grin. But she refuses to. Not without you. Never without you, not again. Queequeg glances between you and the ocean, tugging on your arm. She lets out another pleading noise, hollow and echoing like whalesong. You- she’s only safe with you. It’s not safe for you here, not anymore. Those people were looking at you, like you were something to be dealt with. It’s not safe.

You hesitate again, and Queequeg’s eyes soften at the splinters of fear in your expression. Her hand cups the back of your head, pallid claws settled gently on your hair as she guides you towards her and tenderly presses her lips against yours. A purr hum through her chest when she pulls away, the sound unsteady and weaker than the last time you heard it. But it’s there and her hand is on your cheek and Queequeg leans in to bump her forehead against yours, one of her braids coming free of the pale membrane.

“Mine.” You’re hers, and she’s yours. A peculiar, loving pair. By the time the crew returns with the captain in tow, nothing remains but a few veins of white infection and the crashing turbulence of foamy sea waves. Goodbye, goodbye. Farewell. 

[neo-my-geo]

It's migration season!

Certified spycrab factoids below the cut!

Did you know?

The wild spycrab's natural habitat is the shores of Banana Bay, but they summer in the alpine regions of the United States.

Unlike most species of crustacean, spycrabs typically prefer to reside on dry land. They become dehydrated very easily because of this, so they thrive near sources of water.

Spycrabs are technically classified as a species of false crab due to the fact that they have eight limbs instead of ten. Other species that fall under this classification include hermit crabs, porcelain crabs, and squat lobsters!

Spycrabs glow under ultraviolet light.

Spycrabs earned their name by being incredibly adept at using their environment to disguise themselves - some have even been seen hiding under cardboard boxes to ambush prey!

Despite typically residing in groups of five or less, spycrabs migrate in massive swarms twice a year. This is likely due to large numbers reducing the risk of individual injury or predation as they travel through unfamiliar areas.

While they are able to walk in all directions, spycrabs prefer side-to-side.

Spycrabs are covered in microscopic hair-like structures called setae - they help them perceive the world around them!

Due to not having a way to source cigarettes, non-domesticated spycrabs smoke the fallen cigarette butts left behind by wild spies.

Spycrabs have unusually long lives for crustaceans, with an average lifespan of 82 years.

Spycrabs don't molt as often as most species of crustacean; they tend to only do it every three to four years. This can be attributed to their long lifespans and slower growth rates.

The most common varieties of spycrab are red and blue; purple, green, and yellow varieties have been spotted in the wild, however!

Unlike the hermit crab, their closely-related cousin, spycrabs have eyes that are set directly in their faces instead of on stalks. This has been theorized to be because they are apex predators in their natural habitat.

Spycrabs are one of the only species of false crab that are legally classified as a group 1 carcinogen. They are not recommended for consumption by humans.

Have you been considering keeping a domestic spycrab as a pet? They are unique and challenging to care for, but there aren't many things more rewarding than a happy spycrab.

Spycrabs grow bored very easily and aren’t recommended for first-time crab parents. Make sure to keep them occupied with enrichment provided by decks of cards, books of a third-grade reading level or lower, and car magazines.

Spycrabs are social creatures! Never keep a solitary spycrab, as they can become depressed without company.

The spycrab’s diet consists of algae, small clams, caviar, small mammals, snails, and cigarettes. While a spycrab can survive just fine on bagged crab chow alone, the enrichment provided by these foods will keep them happy and healthy.

When caring for a domesticated spycrab, consider supplementing extra chitin in their diet to keep their exoskeleton strong and healthy.

When not encouraged to exercise, spycrabs will become lazy and lethargic. Consider keeping their cigarette carton at the top of an incline that they must traverse to reach it.

Spycrabs are prone to sudden bouts of aggression, especially when they feel personally wronged. Remember that most threats made by a spycrab are empty ones, but it’s still important to get to the root of the issue and understand why they feel upset.

Spycrabs lack the ability to digest alcohol the way humans can; it is not recommended that owners give them wine, no matter how hard they ask. Consider substituting it with grape or cranberry juice, as most of them can’t tell the difference.

[love-everyone]

Green shore crab custard, shrimps, fermented winged kelp and salt made of the mahogany clam juice

[silkwhim]

semi-aquatic coastal life of south Orus Hycea (Australia)

blue: Thylacetus (pouch whale)

thylacetus shares a common ancestor with thylacine, but split off millions of years ago. being a marsupial, it has a pouch that is now vestigial as it's counterproductive to carry infant young underwater. they have a carnivorous diet, preferring birds, fish, crabs and small mammals and lizards along the shore.

green: blue fairy penguin

a close relative of the fairy penguin, they favoured shallow waters and a diet of crustaceans and slow moving fish. their feathers are black with a blue sheen, and the main difference between their cousins are the white stripes on their face and neck as well as their thicker beak.

purple: clam seal

suggested by their name, they're actually an offshoot of sea otters that evolved convergently with seals after ending up on the other side of the globe. their back legs have remained mostly the same, unlike their front legs which are now flipper-like, similar to the thylacetus.

[pupsmailbox]

MARINE ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ aalto. adrian. adrina. aegir. aerwyna. akua. alda. aleksy. alon. amphitrite. andrienne. anemone. anenome. angler. aqua. aquaette. aquata. aquatique. ariel. arielle. ashera. aurelia. azolla. banks. barbeau. bay. beachette. beachie. beachy. beryl. blu. blue. bluette. bonnie. brooke. bubble. bubbles. calamari. calder. calypso. calyspo. captain. cari. caspian. cassius. cattail. cean. cecelia. celesea. cerulean. cerumae. ceto. clover. coastalle. coastelle. coral. coralette. coralie. coraline. cordelia. corel. corelle. coron. coronis. cove. cubit. current. cyx. dari. daria. darya. davy. delja. delmar. delphin. delphine. derya. destiny. doria. dorian. doris. dory. dylan. echo. elles. fern. fin. finley. finn. fish. fishe. fisher. fishette. fishy. flipper. float. foam. fwish. goldie. guppy. hurley. hyacinth. hydropha. ink. inky. isla. jack. jelli. jelly. jewel. kai. kaia. kairy. kelpie. kelsey. lagoona. lagoonette. lagoonne. lake. lana. levi. leviathan. lorelei. lotus. maelyn. malik. maren. marie. marin. marina. marine. marinette. marion. marissa. maritren. marlin. marne. marnie. marvin. mary. meena. mer. merissa. merlin. meryl. mira. mirabel. miriam. moby. molly. moray. morgan. moss. naiad. nancy. nauticalette. nauticalle. nelum. nemo. neptune. nessie. nina. nixie. nori. nova. nymph. nymphaea. ocean. oceanette. oceania. oceanne. oceanus. octo. oscar. oss. osseo. pacifica. patience. pearl. pearline. percy. pike. pine. pippy. pond. poseidon. puff. ray. reef. reefette. river. ronan. rosemary. sachiel. sailor. sandy. scylla. seaette. seamus. searya. seaseaette. seashelle. seaton. sebastian. selkie. serena. shark. sharky. shell. shelle. shelley. shelly. shorette. siren. sirena. sirenette. sirenne. skip. skipper. snapper. sporty. squid. star. summer. sushi. tail. tallulah. teal. tide. tidette. timin. titus. treasure. trout. twilight. undine. valdrian. vert. verulean. waterette. wave. wavette. wavy. willow. windsor. wisteria. world. wyvern.

PRONOUNS ⌇ :0/:0. ab/abyssal. algae/algae. an/anemone. ang/angelfish. aq/aqua. aqu/aqua. aqua/aqua. aqua/aquatic. aquatic/aquatic. bay/bay. be/beach. bea/beach. beach/beach. bite/bite. bleu/bleu. bloop/bloop. blu/blue. blub/blub. blue/blue. bo/boat. brea/breathe. breeze/breeze. brine/brine. bubble/bubble. ca/catch. cae/caer. carp/carpal. cat/cattail. cattail/cattail. chomp/chomp. clam/clam. claw/claw. cliff/cliff. coast/coast. cor/coral. coral/coral. cra/crab. crab/crab. cur/rent. dae/daem. de/deep. dee/deep. deep/deep. di/dive. dive/dive. dol/dolphine. drift/drift. drip/drop. drop/droplet. drow/drown. eel/eel. enj/emjoy. exci/excite. fi/fish. fin/fin. fish/fish. fish/fishe. fish/fishie. fish/fishy. flo/float. flo/flood. float/float. flow/flow. foam/foam. fwi/fwish. fy/fish. gill/gill. glass/glass. glub/glup. gre/green. gull/gull. hi/hide. hunt/hunt. hy/hydro. ink/ink. jaw/jaw. jel/jelly. jell/jellyfish. jelly/jelly. jelly/jellyfish. kelp/kelp. krill/krill. lagoon/lagoon. lake/lake. li/light. lob/lob. lost/lost. lu/lung. luu/luu. ma/marine. mako/mako. mar/marine. marine/marine. mer/maid. mer/mer. mer/mermaid. natu/nature. nautical/nautical. nep/neptune. oce/ocean. ocea/ocean. ocean/ocean. octo/octopu. oyster/oyster. peace/peaceful. pearl/pearl. pinch/pinch. puddle/puddle. ray/ray. re/reef. reef/reef. riv/river. river/river. sa/sand. sail/sail. salt/salt. sand/sand. scale/scale. scuttle/scuttle. se/sea. sea/sea. sea/seaweed. search/search. sh/ship. sha/shark. shark/shark. she/shell. shell/shell. shimmer/shimmer. shine/shine. shiney/shiney. shoal/shoal. shore/shore. shri/shrimp. sink/sink. skul/skel. soul/soul. splash/splash. spon/sponge. squ/squid. squid/squid. star/star. stare/stare. sting/sting. su/sun. sun/sun. sun/sunbathe. swi/swim. swim/swim. swish/swish. tail/tail. tear/tearself. ten/tentacle. ti/tide. tide/tide. tooth/tooth. tre/trench. treasure/treasure. tro/tropical. tropi/tropical. tuna/tuna. um/umbrella. urchin/urchin. void/void. wa/water. wa/wave. wash/wash. wat/water. water/water. water/wave. wave/wave. wet/wet. wha/whale. whale/whale. wy/wave. ☀ . ⛱ . 🌅 . 🌊 . 🌞 . 🌴 . 🍥 . 🎣 . 🏖 . 🐋 . 🐙 . 🐚 . 🐚.🦐 . 🐟 . 🐠 . 🐡 . 🐬 . 🐳 . 👙 . 💧 . 🚢 . 🛥 . 🦀 . 🦈 . 🦐 . 🦑 . 🦞 . 🧽 . 🧿 . 🩱 .

[starsisstars]

Pointless ISAT Headcanons

Hi I have to get up for opening shift tomorrow but who CARES it's time for headcanons. Except not the normal or angsty ones, it's goofy ridiculous hours ONLY. (Please send me more goofy niche headcanons I want to consume silly details like candy.) Filled with spoilers despite the sillies.

Bonnie invents potato chips 10 years after the end of the game after many failed attempts to make Sif like potatoes (Sif LOVES their chips, so this is Bonnie's win in the end).

Immortality fiction is super popular in Vaugarde because they're witnesses to change over decades but are prevented from changing themselves. Tragic wisemen usually. This got way less popular post-King.

Teachers get paid good wages in Vaugarde because they help kids through the period of the most change in their lives.

I think it's so funny everyone in fanfic thinks Sif sleeps in trees. It's universal and y'know what? Sure. I'm adopting that. Y'all had me scrolling through dialogue for ages just to make sure I didn't miss any tree nap mentions.

Loop spent the majority of Sif's first run through Dormont and the House training their voice so that it wouldn't be a dead giveaway to their identity when Sif showed up. They wanted it to sound like Odile. It does not even a little bit.

Mira is RED. Bonnie is ORANGE/YELLOW/BLUE. Odile is PURPLE. Isa is GREEN/BROWN. Sif and Loop are MONOCHROME.

Mira has a notebook FILLED with edgy poetry from when she was small. She buried it somewhere but knows exactly where it is and once every couple years digs it up just to make sure nobody found it.

Bon is a reptile person. Wants a bearded dragon as a pet.

Mwudu is Acadia (in the same way Vaugarde is France, etc.). Not a colony of Vaugarde or anything though, just a lot of cultural exchange. (Vaugarde is NOT imperialistic.)

Post-canon Sif sometimes has such a tight grip on Isa in his sleep that Isa can get up and walk around with them still latched onto him. One morning Isa even brushed his teeth and styled his hair before the Sif on his back woke up.

Nille is swole af. Taller than Odile too. I like it when people give her a braid.

I changed my mind; everyone has really ugly colors because they can't see them and they all look terrible. I do not care about the practicalities of more colorful dyes being difficult to obtain; this is fantasy logic and I say they all should cause eyestrain.

Sif's all-black look under the cloak and hat (both of which he didn't choose) is the only good fashion choice they're capable of making. If you ask them to get creative it's a disaster. Isa indulges this anyways because hell yeah fashion disaster rights, but Sif will inevitably ask for help once he actually sees the design in person.

Isa was a hardcore STEM person, while Odile was properly studying anthropology/writing but is actually SUPER into linguistics.

Fishermen from the Forgotten Country were given additional pathways to easy fishing crabs on Vaugarde's shore because Vaugarde didn't want 'em. The overfishing caused a minor ecological crisis that was then fixed by Wish Craft.

Pre-canon Sif tried to make some money via an eating competition in one of the unnamed countries but was so uncomfortable with the attention from winning first place they refused to ever step foot in the country again. They don't even remember why they refuse to visit anymore but still don't wanna go. It wasn't even that big a contest nor a big deal emotionally long-term (like the party would suspect) for Sif, they're just stubborn.

Since we have a classic RPG setup I think the party's inventory is not limited by logic and they carry around 78 tents and 23 cottages somehow.

[ashensgrotto]

A Merfolk's Melody (Part 2)

Characters: Yan!Floyd x Reader, Yan!Jade x Reader, Yan!Azul x Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Intro   Floyd Leech (You are Here) Jade Leech  Azul Ashengrotto Epilogue

Synopsis: The sea always calls to those who feel lost and alone, wanting to fill the empty part of their soul until they are loved and full… and as such, it’s only fair that the strange creatures that live beneath its depths would want the same as well…

Author’s Note: Another 4-part fanfiction courtesy of @merakiui ‘s headcanon of the reader being stuck in a room/wall (I’m sorry, but I just enjoy your headcanons and they always give me these ideas) -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/722393818829373440/in-addition-to-being-stuck-in-a-locked-room?source=share & https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/722677892623056896/about-the-stuck-in-a-wall-trope-in-the-oceani?source=share

Here’s how it’s going to work: each character is going to get their own part following the intro. It is going to focus on the Octrio again (bc it’s my current liking, sorry guys). If you want to read a certain character’s part, feel free to jump around and select the one you’re most interested in. 

Again, as stated before, this is a work of fiction; I disagree with any and all behaviors that are represented in this story.

*****

Just as the shore was lined by rocky terrain, the same could be said beneath the waves. Rocks and heavy stones climbed up toward the surface like mountains reaching for the sky. Sea grasses waved with the movement of the tide like it was wind while small fish and crabs swam and scuttled along the rocky beds. Coral and sea anemone peered out from dark crevices, the colors of sea green, blue, pinks, and cream stark against the backdrop of black, gray, and dark green. Never before had you ever seen a more beautiful sight as your body dove further away from the shoreline, your eyes intaking every little detail and imprinting it to memory to recall later. 

The sea grass tickled your feet as you kicked by them and you touched the rocky walls that housed the creatures of the deep before a school of fish swam by, some of their colorful bodies brushing against you as the feeling of scales and coating left their marks along your body. Other sea creatures like mantis shrimp, seahorses, and the occasional sea turtle or dolphin appeared beside you - as if to welcome you to their little hidden paradise among the waves; some waving in your direction while another would slip under your hands or body, guiding you further and further into the rocky caverns before leaving you to your own explorations.

Every few minutes, you would stop and lift your head above water, gulping in deep breaths as your lungs drank in the air like a drowning man, before you would duck back below the surface. As you ducked beneath the surface for another time, a flash of sea green catches the corner of your eye from a little ways below you. You blinked, turning your head in the direction where you saw the flash, wondering what you had seen. It could have been some sea grass - but it seemed much bigger, maybe a fish? You pop back above the surface, looking around as the waves crash around you, judging your distance from your location to the shoreline. 

You were a bit away from the shore by now - but not too far that you couldn’t swim back - making you think that what you saw may or may not have been a shark. However, to your knowledge, you didn’t know of any green sharks that existed in the real world. The stories and tales of the merfolk came flooding back to the forefront of your mind, as well as the story of the old fisherman. You looked down into the water as you felt a set of eyes watching you from beneath the waves as a feeling of unease crept over you; however, that strange tugging sensation you felt on land was now pulling you down - towards the rocky caverns beneath the waves. 

Would you dare follow your instincts? They had never been wrong before when it came to this sort of thing. Steeling your nerves, you take a gulp of air and dive beneath the waves - unaware that this was to be your last time above the waves.

Your lungs burned as you held your breath, disappearing into the dark caverns that made up the rocky mountains of the ocean. You let the tug within your body guide you through the dark crevices and through long winding tunnels; following the unknown path blindly. As you traveled, you swore you could hear a clicking noise behind you - often turning to look over your shoulder to see if there was another sea creature you had to meet behind you, but you were unable to make out anything in the darkness of the waters. However, when you did continue onward, a shape that was long and menacing appeared behind you, a wicked grin reflecting off a row of sharp teeth - a pair of heterochromia eyes that glowed in the dark locked on your form as they followed behind you quietly. 

At the end of the tunnel, an open area that appeared to be a large cave with a small opening - large enough for you to fit through. The tug had ended here - at a dead end; you floated there for a moment, looking around in the darkness as your hair spread around you, no longer confined to the restraints of the air above. However, your heart nearly stopped when you heard a voice snicker before a familiar and unfamiliar voice called out, “Oh, Shrimpy~!!”

You spun around, creating bubbles as you whirled, as a creature appeared from the darkness behind you in the entrance of the cave. It was hard to see, but you were certain it was the strange green creature you had seen earlier; it had the upper body of a man and the lower half of some sort of frilled fish and close to about seven or eight feet in length, fins peeking out from the sides of his head like ears and on his forearms. Small stripes stretched across his cheeks, shoulders, arms, and waist with two thicker ones on his tail, dipping near his hips and over where a set of thighs may have been had he been human. Hair the color of deep teal floated around him as a longer strand the color of seaweed fell over the right side of his face. His eyes, one brown and one gold, studied you for a moment, brows curling inward. 

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that some - if not most - animals, even sea creatures, could be territorial; especially if they had a nest or a grotto nearby. This thing probably had been out hunting for food for its young - meaning very likely that mers were not so different from the sea creatures that had made their homes within the rocky caverns. Based on what you had seen - this was no ordinary merfolk, either; it was a moray mer - and a deadly one at that. Moray eels were known to attack when provoked, but the mers were known to hunt anything that trespassed into their territory - watching from the darkness before striking unexpectedly. You had heard stories about them when you were a child - the locals believing that they typically traveled in pairs, meaning that there was likely a secondary one close by and you had to tread carefully now that one of them had found you.

The two of you stared at each other - you nearly turned blue from holding your breath so long, but not wanting to move in case the moray mer tried anything as well as caught up by his features. In the darkness of the cavern, you could still make out strong, sharp features that border-lined what appeared to be boredom; his mismatched eyes drooping downward to indicate as much. A pointed nose stopped above a thin lips that twisted into a smirk, the hint of sharp teeth protruding from behind them - high cheekbones were lined by twin deep teal markings that stopped just beneath his eyes. You could see the faint ridges along the mer’s neck that fluttered from the movement of the water - the gills that permitted him to breath.

His heterochromia eyes suddenly lit up - glowing brightly as a smile bearing the frightening sharp shark-like teeth spread out before you - his stripes slowly beginning to glow a bright neon teal, “Found ya.’” 

The mer dodged at you, frightening you into moving quickly to try and avoid him. You allowed yourself to sink for a moment, trying to swim back the way you came. The mer was quick, stopping you from exiting by cutting off the escape route, eyes glowing in the darkness as his long tail curled above him. You spung and swam in the opposite direction, toward the little hole in the wall that was your only way to escape. 

“Shrimpy… Please don’t try to run away from me,” the mer growled as he gave chase - much faster than you, “I don’t like it when my prey tries to run - especially you.”

‘What is this thing’s problem?’ you propelled yourself forward, toward the only other exit, ‘Damn it - I likely crossed into its territory when I wasn’t thinking. I have to get out of here!’

You were close to the hole when a webbed clawed hand grabbed at your leg, pulling you downward and into the mer’s chest. 

“Hehe~ I got ya, Shrimpy,” you heard the mer whisper, his cold nose stroking along the outer shell of your ear as his hands rested against your neck, his thumbs pressed against the back of your neck as his nails on his fingers curled against either side of your throat - right were your heartbeat was thumping wildly as his next words sent you thrashing, “You’re mine…”

You balled your fists together and pushed your elbows into the mer behind you, his hands scratching your throat none-too-gently as he released you, grunting from the impact. You pushed yourself up and out of his reach, away from him and towards the hole in the walls. You spread your arms forward, your hands, wrists and arms passing through the entrance with no problems - head, neck and chest following shortly after with little difficulty. You urked then, gasping as a surprising pain shocked through your waist, stomach, and hips as they refused to go forward. You press your hands against the outer side of the wall of the cavern, pushing against the hard rock that digs into your skin as you attempt to free yourself from its hold and the creature that lurked behind you. You could hear him giggling behind you, feel his tail wrap around your ankle like seaweed as his hands came to rest on your hips, nails digging into your clothed skin. You kicked at him to push him away, but his tail wrapped tightly around your legs - keeping them contained.

"Ah, shrimpy, shrimpy," you heard him tut behind you before you felt his thumbs run circles over your clothed hips, "If ya had wanted to mate with me so badly… why didn't ya say so?"

'M-mate?!' You thought, trying to struggle against the mer’s hold.

"Now, calm down - unless ya want me ta be rough with ya?"

You feel the back of your shirt raised before something slimy and smooth run along your back before something coarse follows shortly afterwards, the feeling of cool lips pressing against your exposed flesh makes you shudder. You feel long noble fingers dig into the fabric of your cotton shorts, a ripping sound bringing you back to focus as you attempt to struggle against the mer.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for ya to come to me - it’s been soo long since I last saw ya. But now - here you are, right where ya belong… but, don’t worry,” you hear a giggle behind you as something cups you between your legs - long and sharp claws slowly stroking the sensitive flesh of your clit, “I’ll take good care of ya - just like I promised a long time ago. Ya need to be still though - ya wouldn’t want to make me angry, hm?”

I feel something sharp press against your rear - making you jump in fright as pain and pleasure courses from the likely bite the moray mer has given you. 

He giggles, “So cute… so cute when you jump like this…”

You feel his fingers slowly begin to move against your hot spot, moisture from within gathering to kiss the mer’s fingertips as you whimper out loud, trying and failing to get away from his touch as your body arches from the contact. Another stinging sensation comes from the other side of your rear as sharp teeth dig into the flesh, making you cry out as a finger slowly slips into your entrance - swallowing the intruder like a snake with a mouse.

“Mmmm… so sweet and hot,” the mer whispers against your skin, nibbling on your butt for a moment before pressing a kiss to both marks and curling his finger within you as his lips move towards your back, “Precious… my precious shrimpy…”

A second finger is inserted inside you, making your eyes roll into the back of your head as you spread your legs further apart, not completely under the moray’s control as his tail releases you for favor of keeping your legs spread with one hand and his hips as his lips press kisses along your back here and there before his teeth scrapes against your skin, tugging and tear the fabric of your shirt away to get at you. Your hands, still planted on the outer side of the wall, grip the rock as you feel your face fall forward, your chest heaving from the gasps you were inhaling.

- But how could that be?

Before you could ponder it, the mer’s fingers slipped from your entrance - making you feel your clit grasp at nothing as a stroke of pleasant fire burned in your belly, making you whimper in response. However, it’s short lived as the lips of the mer trail back downward as his hands rub against the skin of your thighs, his sharp nails digging into the flesh and drawing blood as they move upward to your hips and stomach - tearing the remainder of your clothing as shreds of your shirt and shorts float to the bottom of the cavern. The mer’s sharp nose runs along the folds of your lips, kissing the sensitive flesh as another set of shivers run along your spine, making gooseflesh pimple along your arms. Before you can register the pleasure, you feel his teeth sink into the sensitive flesh, causing a howl to escape your throat as you arch - your head hitting the rocky outer wall before you wince at the impact. Something long and slippery teases your folds, flicking over the button and making you whimper as a fire begins to burn in your thighs. You try to push away, but your legs are held apart by the mer’s strong hold - your legs infinitely trapped over his biceps as his clawed webbed hands grip your thighs tightly. 

You feel him hum against you with every stroke, drinking you in like a dying man as his tongue slips into your main entrance - tasting your essence as it drips from your body like honey from a beehive - as his nose nuzzles the other entrance below you. When he does pull away, you have only a moment to pant before three long sharp fingers are pushed within your body roughly, forcing another whimper to escape your lips as they are pulled back before thrusting inward.

“Ah, shrimpy… you’re ready.”

The fingers leave you as you feel them grip your hips, his own pushing your thighs apart as something long and thick makes its home at your entrance. You shake your head, internally pleading for the creature to stop - to let you go. 

The chuckle that echoes across your backside makes you freeze for a moment, “Now, why in the world would I want ta do that?”

One hand strokes along your spine as a comforting gesture, the voice of the mer ringing in your ears as if he was right beside you, “Shrimpy - ya made a promise ta me a long time ago, however I think ya have forgotten about it. Jade always said humans are so whimsical, so I can see where and how he would see that. The good thing in all of this, though, is the bond that we made once upon a time - when I was just a little moray fry and you were just a lonely little girl in a cabin by the sea. You came back… came back for me, and now - now I can have you utterly and completely, just like ya promised.”

 You gasped as something thick, long, and ridged slipped within you. You could feel it intrude all the way to your core as strong arms released your legs in favor of wrapping around your wasit, your body being pulled backwards to all the mer to rest his forehead against your back as bubbles and soft hot breath caressed your skin. He pulled out for a moment before thrusting back in, keeping you tightly to his body as he grunted and moaned against you - the tightness a welcoming comfort. You gritted your teeth as wave after wave of fiery hot pleasure began to seep into the skin of your belly and thighs, making your toes curl and tingle with each of the mer’s thrusts as your hips connected.

“Shrimpy… shrimpy,” the mer kissed at your shoulder blades before he pulled you further into him, his head coming to prop itself beatween your shoulder and your neck, “Ah, shrimpy… so tight - just wanna lay ya, fill ya with my eggs…”

You moan softly as a particular hard thrust forces you to squeeze him tighter, which pushes the mer forward harder and faster as his hands dig deeper into your skin - the claws holding you in place but drawing blood from within. You whimper as your walls tighten around him further squeezing him hard as you gasp - feeling the peak shortly arriving.

 “F-F-Floyd…”

A name that was once long forgotten echoes in the cavern - the moray stopping for only a moment, his eyes wide at the sound of his name from your lips before that familiar wicked smirk spreads across his features.

“That’s right, (Y/N)... say my name…”

***

Several hours have passed as Floyd has curled his body around you like a large feathered boa, keeping you confined as you lay asleep in a bed of seaweed and grass. His fingers stroke through the loose wild strands of your hair, leaning forward every so often to press kisses to your face and neck - leaving little bites along your cheeks and throat to mark you as his. 

He had lost track of how many times he had gone to the surface world to find you nearly six years ago - watching from the rocky shore as he waited for you to return. With each passing day, a piece of him had begun to shatter - breaking into a thousand more tiny pieces with each failed find. It got to the point where he thought he had been abandoned - even though his brother had attempted to convince him otherwise. 

It was only about four weeks ago that something within him cried out - forcing him to jump up and stay alert in the shared cavern he had with his twin. He and Jade had gone to Azul about it - Floyd had been spooked quite a bit from the feeling of a pull in his chest like someone was wrenching his heart in two. The octomer explained that such symptoms were because of a bond that were shared between destined souls - ones that made pacts together during their childhood and would eventually bare fruit when the time had come. It only happened every so often, the octomer had explained, and it needed to be taken care of properly - otherwise the bond could sever and one of the two souls could die. Floyd had taken this as a sign to renew his searches for you in the world above.

It was only about three weeks later when he saw you from his hiding spot behind the rocks - amazed and in awe of how much you’d grown and filled out - no longer the shrimpy little girl he had teased when he had been a fry. 

He began the preparations then, making a home in the caverns near the surface so he coils always be near to you and vice versa. He gathered pretty shells and sea flowers - made your shared bed and tugged large rocks that would make a perfect home for you. He began thinking about children then - knowing that the time would come soon when he would want to have fry of his own; fry that was made from the love you shared with him. The thoughts, and being in warmer waters for prolonged periods of time, eventually forced Floyd into his heat - his heterochromia eyes now locked on you completely.

All that was needed then was… a little push.

Floyd curled himself closer to you, fingers tracing the gills that now lined either side of your neck where he had scratched you - a temporary remedy that would last until he could strike up a deal with Azul for a potion that would turn you into one of them - before his hand moved further down to press against your belly that was now bulging with his seed. His eggs would stay within you - incubating within your body until the time to lay them came; he imagined watching over the clutch with you, seeing your soon-to-be fry slowly developing within them as his fingers would graze over the outer shells. Of course, all of your fry would have to leave this place once they hatched - taken by the sea to develop and grow before returning to you.

He secretly hoped all of them would come back. Floyd returned his gaze to fixate on your features, his nose running along your cheekbone before pressing a kiss on it, “Sleep well… my precious shrimpy.”

[shipburner]

The Gloskun

The gloskun (singular and plural) is an amphibious octopoid about the size of a chicken, found in tide pool habitats. They fill similar ecological niches to seagulls and large semiterrestrial crabs; their intelligence and robust digestive systems makes them extremely adaptable generalists. Often referred to as a "quadrupedal mollusc", the gloskun has a full complement of eight arms, but the rear four are adapted into strong, short legs - rather than tapering like an octopus' arms, a gloskun's legs are wide at the base, with the final two suckers adapted into broad, protective, nonsensory "hooves". When moving about, gloskun hold their fore arms together in a "trunk" shape, moving apart to manipulate objects; gloskun are frequently observed with only three arms in the trunk and the fourth holding wet sea grass over their beak to preserve moisture and extend their periods on land, to the degree that cartoon images of gloskun often have green "mustaches" as part of their body. Gloskun defend themselves with ink in water and on land, where they contract their siphons to carefully aim it at the eyes, noses, or mouths of would-be predators. Gloskun move with a characteristic "stamping" gait on land and when hunting on the seafloor; they typically spend water periods resting, but their relaxed legs double as powerful, rippling paddles for fast movement underwater. Gloskun are frequently observed splashing in puddles; biologists previously explained this as a tactic designed to splash prey out of tidepools, but recent study of gloskun behavior has corroborated folk reports that gloskun extract prey from tidepools with their dexterous forearms, and that puddle splashing is a play behavior. Their playfulness, responsive intelligence, and large eyes (often observed as upturned and "pleading", although it's far more likely that gloskun are simply observing their taller observers) make them endearing to humans; this is offset by their dexterity, ink jets, problem-solving intelligence, and long association with humans, which also cast them firmly in the role of "pest" -- similar to opossums, raccoons, foxes, and monkeys in both public perception and folkloric roles. Seaside communities' DO NOT FEED THE GLOSKUN signs are matched only by gloskun skill in getting humans to feed them; gloskun are capable of using tools, and an arms race exists between gloskun and gloskun-proof-trash-receptacle manufacturers. Pet gloskun are analogous to pet parrots, both in that they are frequently found perching on fictional pirates' shoulders and that they require too much stimulation to be ethically kept as pets (gloskun are not as social as parrots, but have much better ability to manipulate objects and equal or greater intellectual stimulation needs). Some communities and individuals do have more equitable working relationships with gloskun, picking up litter in exchange for food rewards or assisting with shellfish harvests.

Joking around with a friend this morning and accidentally invented the perfect seaside pest, which we now release into the Creative Commons to menace your shores.

The gloskun species © 2024 by Nausicaä Enriquez and @transtanium is licensed under Attribution 4.0 International.

[humanpurposes]

Karma is a God

Chapter 13: The Riverlands

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

Warnings for this chapter: spoilers for F&B and future seasons of HotD, canon divergence, descriptions of violence

Words: 7700

A/n: Also available to read on AO3.

The skies over Blackwater Bay and Crackclaw Point are clear. There are no clouds to hide in and Grey Ghost makes quick work of the distance from Dragonstone to Maidenpool.

The Queen had ordered that she fly straight back to King’s Landing after accompanying Baela and Rhaena to Dragonstone, but as much as she fears her mother’s wroth, she fears what might happen if she sits idly.

To the south, Borros Baratheon has summoned his banners to Storm’s End. To the west, the Lannisters clash with the Iron Fleet. The Tyrells have taken a neutral stance, but the Hightower army is rebuilding in the Reach, rallying behind Prince Daeron and Criston Cole.

As for the Riverlands… the reports they receive are harrowing.

For almost two moons, Aemond has terrorised the Riverlands, unleashing dragonfire and death upon all those he deems to be traitors. Everything in his path turns to ash; towns, cities, castles, crops, and too many lives to count.

They fly high enough that the world spreads out below them like a map. As they approach the southern shore of the Bay of Crabs, she can see where the green fields turn to black. Smoke rises from the ground, trees reach against a grey sky, charred and bare. No life remains where Vhagar flies.

Could he hear the screams as he did it? Was he blind to the suffering, or did he bathe himself in it?

She had heard the cries of dying men as she burnt the Tyroshi war ships by Driftmark, but they were distant, a noise lingering in the back of her mind. All she remembers of that night is the smell of smoke, flashes of golden flames blurred through her tears, emptiness and rage. Thousands of lives ended, for the sake of avenging two already lost.

It is not the same, she tells herself.

They were soldiers. Any one of them could have been the man who released the quarrel that killed Jace, or manned the ship that sunk the Gay Abandon and young Viserys with it.

Aemond kills because he is cruel.

And I…

Death could not save the people who died at Hightide and Spicetown, it could not bring back her brothers, or any other lives lost at The Gullet. That thought has lingered in her mind ever since, a parasite draining the warmth from her body, the life from her soul.

But this is war. Either she will die a martyr, like Jace, like Rhaenys, or survival will chip away at the person she once was.

Maidenpool is nothing compared to the grandeur of Dragonstone or the high walls and towers of The Red Keep. Its keep and battlements are grey and cobbled, covered in moss and ivy so it blends in seamlessly with the surrounding greenery and the backdrop of the sea.

The castle is not the first thing she spots though, rather the blood red dragon that lies before the outer walls. Caraxes is curled in on himself, in a rare moment of peace as he sleeps. But he stirs as they land, rearing his head and glaring at them through wide, golden eyes.

Grey Ghost is uneasy, and not without cause. The Bloodwyrm is monstrously large, bloodthirsty and chaotic.

She remembers the first time she saw Caraxes, as their families gathered on Driftmark for the funeral of Laena Velaryon. Jace had flown on Vermax, while she, too small to ride Arrax, rode in a carriage with her mother and father. They reached Hightide and suddenly she heard a thunderous roar and a whistling, rippling shriek. What a sight they were, Caraxes and Vhagar, soaring from the East with the sunrise. They terrified her in different ways. Vhagar was colossal, and though Caraxes was smaller, he was swift, with piercing eyes, sharp teeth and a serpentine neck that she couldn’t help but follow as it swayed and slithered.

The gates open before she has dismounted. Daemon leads an escort of guards to meet her, dressed in his riding leathers rather than his armour. He knows not to come too close to Grey Ghost.

Her dragon is steadfastly steady as she dismounts, his head fixed on the men who have dared to approach his rider.

Strangers, hisses the voice in her head. Danger.

“Princess Lucerra,” Daemon says, resting his hands on the hilt of Dark Sister which hangs from his hip. “What a pleasant surprise.” His voice is calm but in a way that makes her nervous.

“Your Grace,” she says, keeping a gloved hand against Grey Ghost’s hide, stroking along his scales to calm him. 

Daemon observes this with a small smile, and a turn of his head towards the guards, who relax their stances. “You should know better than to announce on dragonback unannounced.”

“And yet you were able to determine I was not an enemy,” Luke says. “I came from Dragonstone.”

His amusement fades into something more concerned. “Baela and Rhaena?”

Rhaenyra needed a dragon to protect the island and patrol the sea, if necessary. It couldn’t be Tylesys, Sheepstealer was still weak from the encounter with Tessarion, and she wanted Seasmoke, Vermithor and Silverwing to stay in King’s Landing. By the slight frown in Daemon’s face, he has some trepidation about Baela being the one to take on such a burden. But she is brave enough for it, and besides, Dragonstone is defended by water and the Velaryon Fleet. So long as Daeron and Tessarion remain in the Reach, the girls will be safe.

“Your daughters are safely delivered,” she says.

Daemon looks between her and her dragon. “Does your mother approve of you being here?” he asks.

Her breath catches effortlessly in her throat. “She does not know.”

He smiles again. “I have to admit, I did anticipate you might find your way here.”

The small council met the very day they received the first letter from Riverrun.

Prince Aemond has declared a one man war on the Riverlands, intent on burning all those who align themselves to Queen Rhaenyra.

The sight before her eyes was dull and gloomy. She winced at flashes of lighting and rumbles of thunder that were not there to be seen or heard. She saw only him, the scar she had left him, the sapphire set within the socket. His voice drifted through her, just out of earshot but there nonetheless.

“I want you to put out your eye, as payment for mine.”

“Do this, dōna ilībōños, and I will consider your debt fulfilled.”

“My nephew must not be left unchecked,” Daemon’s voice said.

Suddenly the other faces in the room materialised into view. Rhaenyra’s eyes were down, fixed on the golden ball placed before her. Lord Corlys’ brow was twisted in contemplation and concern. The other men of the Small Council were watching Daemon, who in turn had his eyes on her.

He watched her for the entirety of their gathering, and she knew what he was looking for. She gave him nothing, not the smallest movement in her face or a hint of an expression. She had become rather well practised at this.

But the moment she was back in her chambers, the moment she was alone, she gave into the fury and fear simmering inside of her. She only managed to seat herself on the edge of her bed before the tears began to stream down her face. She caught them in her palms as she wept.

Aemond was rarely cruel as a child, if he was it was because he had been pushed too far, by Aegon, by Jace, and by her own doing. She had expected him to hate her when she returned to the Red Keep, and she had been right in her assumption. A debt was owed, one he had wanted her to pay with her life.

Whose fault could it be but hers that Aemond had grown into he had become? 

A weight hung heavy in her chest. She hadn’t been the one to mount Vhagar or utter the command that scorched the Riverlands, but she knew she had a part in this, in some twisting of fate, in the overlaps and knots in the threads of life.

Two moons passed and hardly anything came from Daemon’s hunt. News would come of a castle or town left in ashes, farms and fields obliterated, whole herds of livestock lost to the dragon’s jaws, but Daemon could not fly fast enough. By the time word reached him of an attack, there would no traceable signs of Aemond and Vhagar but the devastation they left behind.

The night before she left to escort Baela and Rhaena to Dragonstone, she took supper with Lord Corlys and her siblings, which included Alyn and Addam. Moments like this were the closest she came to feeling she had a home in the Red Keep, despite the notable absences. She forced herself to smile as Joffrey tried to imitate everything about Lord Corlys, the way he held his cutlery, the way he leaned back in his chair and kept his cup close to his lips. Her brother was to be the future Lord of the Tides afterall.

Rhaena kept her little pink dragon, Morning, on her shoulder. She and Addam fed her scraps of beef and praised her when she cooed.

Baela sat beside Alyn, with perfect posture and a tight smile on her lips at everything he said. But her resolve was slipping. With every joke Alyn whispered in her ear, she leaned a little further into him and laughed a little louder.

At first the sight made Luke’s stomach churn, as if she could still see the distant battle at The Gullet, like she could still smell the smoke as the Tyroshi ships were bathed in Grey Ghost’s fire. Until she wondered if Jace had ever told Baela of his time at Winterfell, why he had a scar on his palm and why, if she travelled north to see for herself, Cregan Stark would have one to match.

Alyn was charming, Luke supposed, gracious, with a smile that sparked excitement. 

What did it matter where Baela chose to seek happiness? Surely it was better that she did not dwell on memories and live her life with the burden of the past. What would that bring but grief and regret? 

After seeing young Aegon to bed and allowing Joffrey one game of Cyvasse, Luke visited her mother. Rhaenyra could be found where she usually was, in her father’s chambers sitting by a dying hearth and gazing over the model of Old Valyria, coated with dust and cobwebs after so many years of neglect. Luke sat by her side, tracing her fingertips over her hands and the cuts along her skin. Some were red and fresh, some were older and clotted, others had faded into thin scars.

“They are meaningless,” her mother whispered without turning her eyes to her daughter. “A consequence of our ancestor choosing to forge his throne from the swords of his enemies. My father suffered the same.”

Watching her mother was like watching a warm and golden autumn fade into a desolate winter. She could not endure it for long.

Her back fell against the door as she returned to her bedchamber, frozen in place by what she saw. Another envelope, sealed with a winged insect stamped into amber wax, left on the floor by her bed, exactly where she had found the last one.

She held her breath for a moment, waiting for any kind of sound, a footstep, a voice, a scuttling of a rodent, but whoever had delivered it must have been long gone.

Once again, she reached for the knife by her bedside, slicing through the envelope to save the seal.

There was just one line, and no signature.

Search for him and he will find you.

She knew what had to be done. She could not sit idly, not while her mother’s allies burned and she had a debt of her own to claim.

Daemon steps towards her. “You want to be the one to do it,” he says.

She often has this feeling, like she’s drowning in her own skin. Like the world around her is cold and dark and she cannot breathe. She sees only one way to save herself from it.

“I have to be.”

The castle is quiet, filled with servants who scurry through the halls with their heads down, and knights and Lords who offer no looks of warmth to their Prince and Princess. It is unusual that Daemon does not reprimand them for it.

He sees that she is brought to a chamber that overlooks the sea and is given supper. It is no great feast– many of the crops and livestock of the Riverlands have been lost to Vhagar’s fire, but she is given a plate of shucked oysters and another with white fish and potatoes. Daemon does not eat with her, or visit her once she is finished. 

The sounds of the waves roar in her ears as she lies in the bed and pulls the sheets around her. Each time she starts to fall asleep she feels weightless, and suddenly she is slipping from Arrax’s saddle and hurtling through to storm into the waves of Shipbreaker Bay–

But she wakes before her body meets the water.

A maid comes to her early in the morning just after sunrise. She bathes and dresses in her riding leathers, firmly fixing her sword to her hip, letting her fingertips linger on the golden seahorse hilt.

“He should be taken as a prisoner,” was Lord Corlys’ counter to Daemon’s pledge to find Aemond. “If he is dead, the Greens will make a King of Daeron and rally behind him.”

Rhaenyra at last looked up when he said it. “My brother forsook any chance of mercy when he tried to claim the life of my daughter,” she said.

Grey Ghost and Caraxes wait for them beyond the castle walls, restless the way dragons always are before they take flight. 

“I have word from Sabitha Frey,” Daemon says before they mount their dragons. “She has recaptured Harrenhal along with the Blackwoods.”

“I can’t imagine it was difficult,” Luke says. “It was left completely undefended.”

Daemon chuckles as he hauls himself into Caraxes’ saddle, a much steeper climb than it is for her to mount Grey Ghost. Aemond would have further to climb than either of them, a thought which she tries to dismiss. 

“We have our hold in the Riverlands once more,” he calls to her as Caraxes starts to move. The dragon whistles like a dolphin and bellows a screeching roar as he lurches forward, bounding off the ground and swiftly ascending into the air with powerful beats of his wings that shake the trees. Daemon steers him west, over the burned landscape.

Danger, whispers the voice in her head.

She drives Grey Ghost forward nonetheless.

As they fly, the air around them is hazy and thick. Luke keeps her sleeve over her nose and mouth. She is used to wind and rain rushing against her face, but smoke is a different beast altogether. It stings in her eyes, burns in her throat, seeps into her lungs and her bloodstream.

Heat lingers even after the fires have died and eaten everything away to ash. She feels it through her leathers.

Harrenhal is not out of place among this scorched wasteland. She sees the lake first, as vast as an ocean, black water glimmering under the sun’s early rays, splashes of white foam with the waves. In the centre is an island, so thick with trees she cannot see the ground underneath.

She feels unsettled, as though she is being watched. This must be the famed God’s Eye.

Standing over the water, shrouded in smoke and mist, is Harrenhal. She can see the path of Balerion’s fire through the five towers, where the stone is melted, twisted, and crumbled to ruins.

Harwin Strong once told her of the curse of Harrenhal, that every family who dared to hold it was doomed to meet a terrible end, and now her mother’s banners hang over the front gates. 

Caraxes lands on the lakeshore where Daemon waits for her to dismount. This is a place familiar to him. This is where he was when news came of Arrax’s demise above Shipbreaker Bay. This is where he gave the order to seek justice for the deaths of his daughters. He remained here while Rhaenys burned at Rook’s Rest, as the Triarchy sank the ship that carried his son, as the Velaryon Fleet held The Gullet, as Jace and Vermax were lost to quarrels and treacherous waters.

Now is not the time to unleash her anger, but Daemon has always had a way of seeing right through her.

He leads her up the slight slope to the gatehouse, into the castle itself. The soldiers they pass bear the sigils of the Freys and the Blackwoods, proud and powerful houses of the Riverlands. Unlike those they passed at Maidenpool, the men and women here look upon their Prince with reverence. Daemon, with Dark Sister by his side, his short, silver hair braided away from his face, looks nothing less than a force of nature, a warrior, a would-be-King, the kind of man to inspire fear from both his enemies and his allies.

And when the fearful eyes come to her, they become curious. It is a question that has haunted her all her life; what do they see when they look at her? A Velaryon, a Targaryen or a Strong? A Princess, an heir, or an outlier, an insult to custom and duty? Perhaps now they see what she has become.

She follows Daemon through quiet hallways, through archways and holes in the walls where there should be doors, until they come to a cavernous hall. The light hardly reaches through the glassless windows on the far side of the room, but she makes out arches and buttresses hundreds of feet high, hearths untouched for decades. On the walls there are carvings of the sigil of House Hoare, images of the sea, krakens and sea monsters, men bathing– or drowning, under the dim light of the braziers, the last remnants of the Iron Islanders who once made this their home.

In the centre of the hall, still quite a distance away, is a table, around which a man and two women are gathered. Candlelight flickers against their faces as she and Daemon approach.

A woman stands at the head of the table, studying a map of the Riverlands and the Crownlands. Her chestplate bears two sigils, one of a black toad, one of two, blue towers. Her hair is pulled tightly from her face. Despite the soft, round edges of her cheeks and jaw, there is a stern look about her, a sharpness in her eyes and the thin line of her mouth.

The man is young, dressed in armour, marked by the sigil of a weirwood surrounded by ravens. He has a head of curly black hair, to match the second woman, only hers reaches below her waist. She is breathtakingly beautiful, tall and broad, dressed in white and black with a red cloak hanging from her shoulders.

“Princess Lucerra,” Daemon says, ushering Luke to stand at the other end of the table, overlooking the Kingswood and the Rose Road past Tumbleton and Bitterbridge. “Lady Sabitha Frey, Lord Benjicot Blackwood of Raventree Hall, and Lady Alysanne Blackwood.”

Only now do they look at her, with the same curiosity that she is used to.

“What an honour it is to be acquainted with you, Princess,” Lady Sabitha says, stiffly.

The two Blackwoods bow their heads, and Lady Alysanne offers her a small smile.

“We are glad to have you join us, Prince Daemon,” says Lord Benjicot. 

Daemon hums in acknowledgement as he sets Dark Sister down on the table. “It seems a far more convenient base than Maidenpool,” he says, darkly.

A gust of wind howls in the distance. It is quiet, but with the echo through the hall it sounds monstrous and unnatural.

Lady Sabitha seems to have command of this gathering. Luke has heard rumours of Lady Frey’s character, most of them from Daemon. He says she is merciless and efficient. She finds she agrees with this assessment, but rather admires her for it. She has lost her husband in this war, and now her seat. The Twins, along with her son, have been taken by the Lannisters, who now block the road south.

“The Riverlands are loyal to you, Your Grace,” she says to Daemon, “but we have little chance of mustering more men than we have here.”

“What of the Tullys?” Luke asks.

Lady Alysanne sighs. “They cannot be relied upon. Elmo Tully would pledge their banners to the true Queen, but he will not act against Lord Grover’s wishes.”

“The Lord of Riverrun is as decisive as he is young and spritely,” Daemon says. “We cannot afford to wait for the old man to die while the Hightowers recover their strength.”

“But with Jason Lannister at the Twins, the Starks will have to fight through an army to reach us,” Alysanne says.

They fall into quiet, studying the map and the figures upon it, the hightower in the Reach, the stag at the edge of the Stormlands, the lion and the wolf to the north.

“And then there is the more pressing issue,” Lord Benjicot says darkly. 

Luke counts the dragons upon the map. Tessarion in the Reach; Moondancer at Dragonstone; Syrax, Vermithor, Silverwing, Seasmoke, Tyraxes and Dreamfyre at King’s Landing. Lady Sabitha moves Caraxes and Grey Ghost to Harrenhal. Two figures remain, a golden dragon for Sunfyre, kept at the edge of the map, and Vhagar, hovering over Pinkmaiden, seat of House Piper.

“He was last seen here?” Luke asks quietly, reaching out a finger, but stopping herself before she touches Vhagar’s figure.

“Not three days ago,” Benjicot says. He places the tip of his finger over Riverrun first. “He began his assaults here, after Harrenhal was abandoned. He won’t directly attack the Tullys, but he targeted the lands that surround them.” Then he traces east, over the towns along the River Road, marking Aemond’s warpath. 

“I went to Darry,” Daemon says, “by the time I got there, Vhagar was feasting on whole farms of sheep at the border of the Vale.”

“We think he might be seeking shelter here–” Lord Benjicot points to the mountain range that marks the border of the Westerlands. “Out of Prince Daemon’s reach, close enough to continue his attacks.”

“And he was not seen after Pink Maiden?” Luke says.

“He attacked at nightfall. Even with Vhagar’s size, it was impossible to tell where they went.”

Her eyes follow as he moves Vhagar’s figure to the mountains, and a heavy hand lands on her shoulder. The weight strains her neck.

“Perhaps I could ride out on Grey Ghost and search the mountains?” she says.

Daemon does not give the others a moment to consider. “I will not allow you to use yourself as bait.”

What is the difference? He would be happy for her to meet him in open battle, but not to seek him out as she had done with Daeron? 

She knows better than to test the patience of Daemon Targaryen, but her own has been wearing thin for far too long.

“And how else do you intend to find him?” she asks. “You have searched for Aemond for moons and to no avail. Do you expect him to come to us willingly?”

“He is proud enough to do so,” Daemon mutters.

“Then where is he? Why has he not sought you out?”

“Enough.” He does not need to shout. His anger is apparent enough for her to bow her head and listen in to the rest of the gathering in silence.

There is nothing for her in Harrenhal but death. 

She takes an abandoned servant’s quarters as a bedchamber, by the kitchens in Widow’s Tower, until Daemon tells her of the horror found in the crypt underneath.

Their bodies were left in the cellar, slaughtered within a cell, some simply run through, others slashed to shreds. There was no sense to it, no reason for Aemond to kill his prisoners or bring such a bloody end to House Strong– well, almost.

She wonders why he did it and how he can live with himself in the aftermath. He had not even spared the children. She pictures them cowering, helpless to watch as their family were picked off, one by one, before Aemond at last set his one, violet eye to them.

But Aemond kills because he is cruel, and soon that cruelty will be ended.

She cannot stay in the tower knowing what lies underneath. So she takes her sword and climbs the staircases, past empty chambers and passageways. She doesn’t know what she is expecting. Whatever was left of Ser Harwin or his belongings would have been removed years ago, and while Harrenhal may belong to his family, he always said he never felt at home here. She sees why for herself.

Her legs burn as she climbs higher, where the tower becomes decrepit. The stairways are treacherous now, she wonders if they might crumble under her boots and yet she carries on, passing rubble never cleared and gaps in the tower where the walls were lost to the Black Dread’s fire.

She comes to a bridge, high above the courtyard leading into the castle’s tallest tower, the Kingspyre. There are at least some signs of life in this part of the castle, servants, lit torches and hearths. 

She passes a chamber with a great oak door, adorned with carvings of sea creatures with grotesque faces, waves and ships, the three rivers of the Trident and, when she looks closely, pairs of eyes hidden amongst the images.

She expects it to be locked, but tries the handle, only for it to open, seamlessly and silently. 

It is a grand chamber, to be sure, perhaps intended for the Lord of the castle. There are no belongings in the room, no sign of ownership, and yet it is well kept. The sheets are clean, the logs of the hearth set and ready to be set alight It smells stale and stagnant, but not like the lingering smell of smoke found in the rest of Harrenhal. 

She hesitates, then smooths her palm over the bedsheets to find they are cold. This chamber must have been in use recently, but not recently enough to warrant immediate attention.

She wanders to the window, overlooking the courtyard, the gatehouse and the God’s Eye beyond the walls. The figures in the courtyard are distant but still distinct. Daemon’s silver hair is obvious as he stands with a woman. At first she mistakes her for Lady Alysanne; she is seemingly tall and slender with dark hair, but something about her posture is different, the way she tilts her head as she leans closer to Daemon.

The wind wails beyond the walls of the tower and for a moment it sounds soft, like a breath.

The woman turns her gaze up, to the very window Luke stands behind. She can make out the colour of her eyes– green, brighter and paler than Lady Alysanne’s. They must be truly striking at a ground level, because from here they are piercing. 

A sick feeling floods Luke’s stomach. She should not be here, not in this room, perhaps not even at Harrenhal, but she cannot find the courage to leave.

When she makes her way down the stairs of the tower and into the courtyard, Daemon and the woman are gone. Instead she finds the castle’s Godwood, following the small stream that runs through it, to the heart tree. 

The faces in the bark are nothing like those in King’s Landing. These faces are full of anguish, twisted, mouths open as if they are screaming, in pain or fury.

A chill slips down her spine and she knows she is being watched– not by the eyes in the tree. A footstep treads softly in the grass behind her. She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough for them to know she has heard them.

The footsteps are less careful now, unabashed in their approach. 

She sees a flash of dark hair, at first believing it to be Lady Alysanne, only to find herself disappointed, and then a little on edge.

It is the woman from the courtyard, the woman with unnaturally bright eyes.

“Do you often find yourself seeking the comfort of a weirwood, Princess?” she asks. Her voice is surprisingly low, rich and seductive. 

She never used to, but she seems to have noticed them more since they took King’s Landing. She passes the weirwood in the gardens of the keep, sees the image of one above her bed, finds her mind wandering to memories of afternoons she spent under the shelter of red leaves and her uncle’s arm as he read from a history book.

“What business of it is yours?” Luke says sharply.

The woman hums a low laugh and lets it fade to silence. 

Night is beginning to creep in. Beyond the walls of the castle, the sight of the sunset over the lake will be beautiful, a red sky over the water. She hears the waves and the wind as if she is standing on the shore.

“It is a terrible thing to lose one’s family,” the woman says, bringing her hands before her. Her dress is made of simple black fabric, with no patterns or distinctive embroidery, but the sleeves are long, draped over her hands and lined with green satin. 

Luke catches a piece of flesh between her teeth. “You have lost family in this war too?” she says, uncaring at her shortness.

The woman tilts her head. Luke watches her as she takes a step towards the tree, placing her palm against the white bark, beside one of the faces. “The family I have lost was never mine to begin with. In truth, I do not feel it,” she says.

A hollow feeling lodges itself in Luke’s chest and twists like a knife in an already fatal wound. She wishes she could say the same.

The woman drops her hand from the tree, and turns to her. “Do you feel your losses, Lucerra?”

The absence of her brothers becomes a little more subdued each day, but she still carries them with her, the memories, the pain of knowing that their deaths were anything but peaceful, and the burden Jace has left her with.

She was so fearless as a child, she realises. She was secure, the daughter of a Princess, the granddaughter of the King, with Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Jace to guide her, protect her. But all of that is gone now, the life she used to enjoy, and she fears the things she used to love.

Tears prickle in her eyes, heavy and close to falling.

How much can the woman read from a single look from her eyes?

She steps forward to take Luke’s hands in hers. Her skin is rough and dry. She opens Luke’s palms, running a slender finger along the lines in her skin. “A powerful combination of blood flows through your veins,” she utters. “The blood of the dragon, and of the First Men.”

Daemon has taken heads for such an insinuation.

Luke raises her brow. “Do you question my legitimacy?” 

The woman scoffs. “ Laws are made by men, but we are made of flesh and blood alone. Legitimacy has no meaning in the natural order.”

“And yet without it, my position will never be secure,” Luke says.

The woman stares at her, amused or mocking, it is difficult to tell.

“It was not by right of birth that Aegon the Conqueror claimed rule of the Seven Kingdoms.”

She thinks of all the history lessons she used to sit through, never taking in a word. All the hours she would make Aemond read to her– did he hate her back then? Would he have refused her if he felt he had the choice? “No. But he won it, and had the strength to hold it.”

The woman hums. She runs her hand further up, to the thin, blue veins running along Luke’s wrist. She presses her thumb against her skin, letting the colour fade and run again.

Her harsh green eyes come to Luke’s. “Blood is unambiguous,” she whispers.

Why must it all come back to blood?

The woman seems to note some kind of change in Luke’s face, squinting her eyes and furrowing her brow just a little. What does she think she might find in the frightened and furious mind of hers?

“Helaena said something to me,” Luke utters before she can stop herself.

“She spoke of blood,” the woman says, assuredly.

There is a trail of blood. It flows to you. It ends with you.

Luke breathes slowly. She has tried to decipher Helaena’s words for weeks, moons even.

Her aunt used to mutter strange musings often, always to Aegon’s insistence that she was stupid and freakish. Jace’s stance was that he would not burden himself with things that did not make sense to him, and so she did the same.

Blood– blood she shares with her mother and the line of Kings that have come before them. Blood she shares with her brothers, with her father. Blood she shares with Helaena and her uncles. Blood spilled, lives ended or left in ruins. This war has seen too much of it already.

“What did she tell you, Princess?”

She whispers the words that have haunted her since she heard them, but where Helaena’s voice was gentle and wistful, she feels a tremble in her own throat. “There is a trail of blood. It flows to you. It ends with you.”

The woman frowns, keeping her gaze on Luke’s eyes as though the answer lies within her very soul. The longer she looks, the duller her eyes seem to become.

“What do you believe this means?” the woman asks.

Daemon says killing Aemond will end the war, or at least determine the outcome. Corlys says it will weaken their enemies, but give them cause to regather their strength. Her mother would say it is justice. 

Kill Aemond and the threat of Vhagar will be removed. What remains of the Riverlands will be spared, Daeron and Tessarion will stand alone. Then they need only wait for Cregan Stark to march south to secure their victory. 

It should all be so simple.

So why does she feel the wind running through her? Why does she feel so restless and furious that her body trembles and her nails press into her palms? Why does she hear the crashing of waves morphing into distance screams? Why does she feel so wrong?

The woman’s voice is perhaps the one thing that sounds true, clear and low. “Mercy is a weakness.”

She knows she has no reason to trust this woman, but the rage inside her tells her she is right. She may never know the number of men she has killed from atop her dragon, so what is one more? One more life lost, a fair exchange for what he has taken from her.

But it will be different to know the name of the man whose life she will claim, to know his face and his voice. To share his memories and his blood.

Mercy is a weakness– it sounds like something Daemon might say.

“What are you doing here?” The command in his voice as he approaches startles them both. Luke tears her eyes away from the woman, to the head of silver hair gleaming in twilight.

She begins to panic. Was she supposed to stay in the castle? The hour is getting late, perhaps he was concerned… but he doesn’t so much as look at Luke. His gaze is clearly on the woman.

“I was beginning to worry you might be dead,” he says.

The woman’s lips curl into a half smile. “I was spared by his Grace, the Prince Regent.”

Daemon scoffs, utterly unamused. Only then does he turn to Luke. “What poison are you inflicting on the poor girl?”

“Poison?” she echoes with a sly expression.

“That is your way, is it not, witch?”

This does not seem to phase the woman.

Daemon hums a short laugh, but his expression remains dark. “You were supposed to deliver my nephew to me…”

She hates this, not knowing the whole truth of what is happening around her, the secret devices and plots. The familiarity between Daemon and the woman is beginning to infuriate her, until her chest feels heavy with the weight of the breaths she takes to calm herself.

“...But by the sounds of it, it seems all you’ve succeeded in doing is keeping his cock wet.”

Suddenly her chest and stomach twist into a tight knot.

It is not an image she wants in her head, but it appears nonetheless. The woman standing before her is a beautiful one, and Aemond is a Prince, a warrior, hot-blooded and demanding when he wants to be.

Her imagination is vivid and visceral. She has felt his lips against hers, his breath on her skin, his hand tracing down the front of her gown and slipping beneath her skirts. She had almost expected him to take her fully that night, in the hidden corner of the Red Keep while their families failed to make amends. She often wonders if she should have let him.

Does he ever think about that night? What he did to her— what they did together, or was it all forgotten the moment he saw the pair of eyes bearing into her soul this very moment?

“He will come,” the woman says.

Daemon chuckles to himself. “For his paramour?”

Her piercing gaze falls once more to Luke. Her eyes are dark now and almost bloodthirsty. “He will come for what he believes he is owed.”

And so they wait. 

Thirteen days pass. Daemon marks each one with a slash of Dark Sister in the trunk of the heart tree in the Godswood. Each strike bleeds red sap.

She tries to make use of each day, but there are only so many arrows she can shoot into targets and tree trunks, only so many times she can sharpen her sword before she will damage the blade.

All the while there is no word of Aemond and no sightings of Vhagar. Whenever she gathers in the great hall with Daemon, Sabitha Frey and the Blackwoods, she scours the map as if she will somehow know where to find him.

Daemon refuses to let her ride Grey Ghost, not even to circle the lake. He says the risk is too great, but since when did he ever burden himself with risks? 

This castle was built on blood and is haunted by the Stranger. In another life Harrenhal might have been her home, but she fears she may not be able to stay here much longer. Her sanity cannot bear it.

She tries to find a new chamber to sleep in each night, but rest never comes easily. When she wakes she recalls dreams of the lake. In these dreams, she does not walk along the shore or try to find her way back to the castle. She lies against the pebbled beach, her head cradled in scaly limbs, a longing for blood in her belly and an ominous feeling that keeps her grounded.

Search for him and he will find you.

Luke rises with the sun. From the battlements, she can see Daemon in the godswood, carving his fourteenth strike into the weirwood tree. To the lakeshore she makes out the shape of her slumbering dragon. Grey Ghost blends in almost perfectly with the morning mist, until she spots one of his yellow eyes, wide and bright enough to spot from the castle.

She retreats to her little bedchamber in the Tower of Dread, tucks herself under the bedsheet, rough and scratchy with age, and shuts her eyes.

She stares back at the castle, and knows she will be safe within its walls— for now at least.

Her body is not her own, but she settles in it. This is not a brief moment of madness as with Tessarion. This feels like an extension of her dreams, something natural and familiar. Her movements are deliberate as she rises and spreads her wings.

She leaves Harrenhal behind, darting up towards the sky with all the speed she can gather, until the lake and the lands around Harrenhal are set out before her.

Aemond has not followed a particular path, so it stands to reason his hiding place may not be where she expects it to be. He could be in the mountains southwest of Pinkmaiden, or he could be somewhere else entirely. 

If he has not been seen since then, perhaps he is somewhere more isolated.

By the time the sun has reached its peak in the sky, she has flown over most of the western Riverlands, over Raventree Hall, Acorn Hall, Pinkmaiden and Stone Mill. She can see she is approaching Riverrun, the seat of the Tullys. They do not fly any banners, and yet their men are gathered and preparing for war. 

Where to then? Along the Red Fork to the Trident, to the mountains that border The Vale? Or over Whispering Wood, where the mountains meet the sea along Ironman’s Bay?

Intinstic drives her north with a swift beating of her wings. 

A swirl of storm clouds looms over the Iron Islands, but the rain has yet to reach the mainland. A fearsome wind threatens to blow her off course and below her the waves beat against the base of the cliffs, crashing and roaring against the rock with flurries of white foam. Grey Ghost does not fear the sea and for now, neither does she.

She flies high, sweeping her eyes along the slivers of shoreline that have not been claimed by the tide, searching for any sign of another dragon, a nest, a charred carcass of an animal. That’s when she hears a growl, like a rumble of thunder, echoing through the air as if the very sky seeks to unleash its fury. 

Vhagar rises from her hiding place, half-buried in damp sand and the rest of her hide blending in with the rock. She feels the heat coursing through her blood when the dragons meet each other’s eyes, the fire rising in her gut, the urge to sink her teeth and talons into flesh.

But she looks up to the clifface, to the figure standing on an overhang. His sapphire eye gleams through the dull daylight, the ends of his silver hair drift with the wind and the beating of her wings.

Aemond.

He knows what Grey Ghost’s presence means, she can see it in his face, the awe and the anger. She would be a fool to think he would feel anything else.

He will come for what he believes he is owed.

And what of the debt he owes her now?

When does it end?

When she opens her eyes her skin is drenched in sweat. She tosses the sheet off her body and hurries to dress herself in her riding leathers. Grey Ghost will fly swifter than Vhagar, but she needs every second she can claim. With her boots pulled over her feet and her sword on her hip, she yanks the door open, sprinting through the halls and the courtyard. She doesn’t stop when some of the soldiers stare at her in confusion, or when Lady Alysanne tries to stop her and ask what’s wrong. She couldn’t answer them if she tried.

She feels her heart beating at all her pulse points, the wind slicing over her skin, the howling of the wind coming off the lake. 

Daemon is in the Godswood, under the heart tree, resting his hands on the hilt of Dark Sister. He turns to face her as she approaches. 

She is breathless, but her voice has never sounded clearer. “He’s coming.”

“How?”

How did he know to come? How do you know?

“I saw it,” she says.

Daemon frowns. In fairness, she herself would not trust such a vague answer. 

She follows him back to the courtyard. The castle is in a panic now; the men are restless. Daemon fetches something from the armoury, a bow and a quiver of arrows. They are slim, not enough to pierce the hide of the dragon, but enough to shoot through the flesh of a man.

“Remember everything he has taken from you,” he says before he hands them to her. “Aemond may share your blood, but he is not one of us.”

She nods, and fastens them over her back.

Grey Ghost flies over the castle as the sun begins to set.

Luke and Daemon both know what they must do. She joins her dragon, hiding amongst a line of trees on the eastern shore of the lake, while Daemon waits in the open, and calls for Caraxes. 

From the shadows of the trees, she watches the sky turn from blue, to gold, to red. 

A shape flies before the sun and for a moment the world goes black. 

She has never forgotten the fear she felt when she heard Vhagar’s call at Storm’s End, as she saw her shape through the clouds and stared into her open jaws. That same fear ripples through her body and makes her blood run cold, but she does not shy from it.

A thousand voices cry out in her head. Screams of the men she condemned to burn. Cries of anguish and mourning. Raised voices, calls for justice and retribution.

Mercy is a weakness. She finds herself wishing the world had more mercy.

But one voice appears clearer than the rest.

Blood– her heart in her chest.

Blood– the sky through the branches, illuminating the lake.

Blood. Blood she shares with Kings, Princes and dragons.

She has seen Aemond’s blood before and felt it against her skin. She is sure she will see it and feel it again before the night has reached its end.

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