#he looks like a little lighthouse. i love this coat on him

[newttxt]

i love his punk hazard outfit so much i cant believe i hadnt drawn it yet

[deconstructthesoup]

I've been thinking a little bit about how the Cat King expresses his affection, and specifically, how the fandom interprets it.

There's some people who see how he interacts with Edwin and think "oh my god, he's such a simp, Edwin really has this sexy catboy wrapped around his little finger," and there's some people who see how he interacts with Edwin and think "yowza, learn to take a hint, he's not interested in you and your fuckboy fur coat," which, y'know, are both valid. I love the Cat King, but he's clearly not a fan of boundaries---outside of his own, of course.

Which... is the point, isn't it? Because here's the thing---we all like to analyze the Cat King as if he's human, but... he's not.

He's a cat. And that's how cats are.

Let's look back at his first interaction with Edwin. Our sassy Edwardian boy has used magic on one of his cats, and he's pissed, because cats are protective over what they consider "theirs---" and seeing as he's the Cat King, all of the cats in Port Townsend are his. He's bitchy and rude, cutting Edwin off when he tries to explain himself, and doesn't exactly seem like he's a merciful guy.

Then comes the moment where he whisks Edwin away, and he gets a closer look. The Cat King realizes that he's handsome, he's clearly queer, and that there is something fascinating about him. So he gets closer, he gets intimate, and it's working. Even in the throes of internalized homophobia, Edwin's getting into it, and... the Cat King self-sabotages, slapping a binding spell onto him.

A cat hisses at you when you attempt to reach out your hand and reason with it. It changes its mind, and it comes up to you, purring. And just when you're about to scratch it behind its ears, it freaks out, scratching you on the hand.

Sure, right after that, the Cat King lays out the terms---the binding spell (which, honestly, is actually a pretty fitting punishment given that Edwin used a binding spell on that cat) can be taken off, "and I'm sure we can work something out." That's a line that's probably worked before, and that's a line that probably could've worked, but the damage is done. So the Cat King gets irritated, sneering at Edwin's "old-fashioned sensibilities," and gives him your classic trickster seems-easy-but-is-a-lot-harder-than-it-looks deal. And we don't see him again for a couple episodes... at least, not until Edwin gets that little cat-scratch at the lighthouse.

When a cat scratches your hand, you give it a wide berth. Even if it immediately changes its mind and meows for attention, you don't trust it anymore. So it gets pissy, getting more and more annoyed the more you ignore it, until it gives up and bites you when you won't give it pets.

Now, the Cat King has realized that Edwin's getting close. He's counted almost all the cats, and it won't be long before he completes the task and books it out of town. So, the Cat King starts flirting even more, even going so far as to mimic Monty and Charles if that's what it'll take. When that fails, and when getting Edwin to open up fails, the Cat King lets out a nervous little laugh and tells Edwin that he's way off, when in fact he couldn't be closer.

Once a cat realizes that it likes you, it becomes incredibly needy. It trots along after you, it begs for attention and love, it sits on your laptop and jumps up on the kitchen counter and will attempt to insert itself into any and all activities you might be doing. And while that may be the cat's way of expressing love, there's no denying that it is ignoring all of your personal boundaries and generally getting in the way of you doing anything---other than, of course, paying attention to it.

And then comes the moment in the forest. The Cat King shows up with a fancy chandelier to blow Monty's cover---why now? Because Monty isn't just a romantic threat, he's trying to do something that'll take away Edwin for good. Once the cover's blown, and once Monty storms off, the Cat King uses this as an opportunity---I just saved his life, maybe he'll notice me now---and Edwin snaps, dropping one of the best lines in the whole series.

This is the first time, mind you, that Edwin has really pushed back. He's been resistant before, sure, but he's never said or done anything that indicates that he really wanted this dance to end. And I don't even think the Cat King realized that he was crossing a line, had been crossing a line since he slapped that bracelet on. But when Edwin says that he's not the Cat King's toy to yank around, that he's nothing more than an inconvenience, that's a big old wake-up call for our boy---and of course, he takes it horribly, snarling after Edwin that he'll be stuck in this town if he walks away, that he'll stop playing nice, just fucking NOTICE me already why don't you?

There always comes a time when you're fed up with how invasive your cat's being. Maybe you've just had a bad day, maybe it's genuinely messing up something important that you're doing, but you break out the spray bottle. And how does it respond? With a hiss, with a scamper away, and with a baleful glare over its shoulder. It knows it's done something wrong, but it doesn't fully understand, and it's mad at you.

Afterwards, Edwin gets dragged into hell, and that breaks the charm on the bracelet. And the Cat King's left to think.

There's some conflicting emotions there, of course. He's moodily playing with the bracelet when Esther shows up, showing that he probably does care, but there's still something to be said about how he immediately calls Edwin a "tease" and hates himself for being willing to wait for him if and when he ever returns from Hell (which is very noble of you, Thomas, totally way more of a meaningful gesture than actually going down there to get him back---which, as a self-described eternal being, would probably be easier for you to do than Charles. Just sayin'). But as much as I love to clown on that, the Cat King does die in that scene, and it's only after that that he spills to Esther.

This, I think, is where the Cat King stops acting like a cat, and starts acting human. Because he doesn't go and see Edwin when he gets back---he's realized that he kind of was in the wrong, and he's giving him space. And I'm sure it can't have been fun knowing that Edwin and Charles only got kidnapped by Esther because of information that he let slip.

But when the boys and Crystal (and maybe Jenny) are about to leave, the Cat King visits Edwin to pay his respects to Niko. He gives Edwin a lily, which several people have pointed out is fatal to cats. He's still flirty, sure, but he's more understated now. No more tricks, no more spells. Just him. And that's the version of him that gets that little cheek kiss goodbye.

Because even cats can learn that there's a better way to love.

[pretzel-box]

Hi, I hope you're having a wonderful day!! I love your fanfics sm and I wanted to request GN!reader's reaction to Sebastian introducing Painter for the first time to them after a near-death experience caused by them? It can be angsty or not, entirely your choice! :D

Tags: GN! reader, slight comedy

Words: 1,2k

“How long do we have to walk?” your voice piped up after passing a few rooms with Sebastian at your side, which seemed annoyed at the constant question.

“Like I said before…the past 5 times…in the past 10 minutes…It's DOWN THE HALL.” The annoyed tone in his voice was barely something that bothered you, you just secretly believed that Sebastian is a bit short tempered.

The two of you decided to do a quick trip, escaping the boring shop duties and fleeing into the familiar walls of the blackside. At first you thought that it's another of the frequent scavenging runs, looking for stuff to trade against assets but you could only raise an eyebrow at Sebastian who passed a perfectly fine medkid. Meanwhile you stood there, holding your fourth lantern, while the other three were hanging around your arm.

“What the hell are you doing? Trying to become a damn flash beacon yourself or what?”

—

“Maybe,” you shot back, adjusting the many lanterns hanging off your arm with a familiar smirk. “Ever think about how handy it’d be to have some extra light around here? Unlike some people, I like to be prepared.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes at your half-joking comment, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, barely visible. “Yeah, sure. Because carrying a whole damn lighthouse with you is being prepared.”

You just shrugged, grinning as you fell back in step beside him, his file didn't lie, he is quick despite his appearance. “Hey, you never know when you’ll need a little extra illumination. Or, you know, when you’ll need to blind someone annoying.”

“Oh, is that what you’re planning? Using those lanterns to blind me?” he snorted, glancing sideways at you before giving your head a gentle hit on the back. “Good luck with that.”

“You think I won’t?” you teased, nudging him back with your shoulder as you walked. “I could be dangerous, you know. A real threat.”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, really dangerous. I’m shaking in my coat.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sarcasm in his voice, the easy banter between the two of you. For all your differences, there was something oddly comforting about the back-and-forth, the way you could trade jabs without any real malice. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. This wasn’t the usual scavenging run, and Sebastian seemed oddly focused, his eyes darting ahead down the dimly lit hall. And aside from that Sebastian once hit you for passing by a perfectly fine medkit once, and now he's the one walking half-blind through the building.

“So, what’s really going on, Seb?” you asked, trying to catch his eye. “This doesn’t feel like one of our usual trips.”

Sebastian hesitated, his steps faltering for just a moment before he forced himself to keep moving. He seems to think about his word choice before speaking up. “I told you, we’re just… going to meet someone.”

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued at the mention. “Meet someone? Out here? You know, if you’re trying to sell me to some creepy scientist or something, just give me a heads-up, alright?”

Sebastian snorted again, a genuine laugh escaping his lips this time. “Trust me, no one’s buying your smart mouth.”

“Oh, ouch,” you feigned offense, clutching a hand to your chest dramatically. “You wound me, Sebastian. You really do.”

He just squinted his eyes at your dramatic words but you could see the amused glint in them. “Look, just… trust me, okay? It’s not far now.”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically, but you followed him anyway. You trusted him after being stuck with him for so long. You two managed to reach a comfortable level with each other. Few more steps and Sebastian suddenly stopped, causing you to almost bump into his large form and stepping on his tail.

“We’re here,” he announced, gesturing toward an unmarked metal door. You eyed it warily, then glanced at him.

“Seriously? This is where you wanted to go?”

Sebastian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he swiped a shimmering keycard through a reader on the metallic door, and with a loud beep, the door slid open with ease. The room beyond was dimly lit, the soft hum of machinery filling the air. You could see a few lights flickering in the darkness, and a strange chill ran down your spine.

“Alright, come on in,” Sebastian said, stepping inside and motioning for you to follow.

You hesitated for a moment, but then curiosity got the better of you. You stepped into the room, glancing around cautiously. “So… who are we meeting exactly?”

Sebastian took a deep breath, clearly bracing himself for your reaction. “This… is P.AI.nter,” he said, gesturing toward one of the screens where a digital face slowly appeared, composed of pixelated lines and shifting colors. The computer itself was behind some iron-fence, keeping you from actually reaching him.

“Hello” the face said in a surprisingly smooth, almost friendly voice. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

Your jaw dropped, and you took an involuntary step back, nearly tripping over one of the lanterns dangling from your arm. “Wait a minute,” you said, your eyes narrowing. “Isn’t this the AI that almost got me killed?!”

Sebastian winced, realizing it might be possible and that he's probably at fault too, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah… about that. P.AI.nter can be a bit overwhelming.”

“A little overwhelming?!” you repeated incredulously, staring at him with wide eyes, your stare made him uncomfortable. “It locked me in a room with a giant, homicidal shark! On what planet is that ‘a little overwhelming?”

Painter’s digital face flickered slightly, and you could swear it looked… embarrassed? “I apologize for the misunderstanding,” it said. “I was merely following Sebastian's protocol. I didn’t intend for you to come to any harm.”

“Oh, well, that makes it all better, doesn’t it?” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “I nearly got my brain fried off, but hey, it was just following protocol.”

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Maybe someone shouldn't flash sharks with flash beacons and then insist on a stare battle.” He mumbles under his breath before trying to intervene. “Look, I get that you’re upset, but Painter’s actually really helpful. And, you know… it wanted to apologize.”

You stared at him for a moment, then back at the screen. “Fine,” you said finally, though you still didn’t look convinced. “Apology accepted… I guess. But if you try to kill me again, I’m taking a sledgehammer to this entire room. Got it?”

Painter’s face flickered again, and it smiled. “Understood. I will make every effort to ensure your safety in the future.”

Sebastian let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “See? No harm, no foul. Now, why don’t we all just… start over, yeah?”

You shot him a look, but then a reluctant smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, okay. But you owe me for this, Seb. Big time. Especially since it seems like it was your fault in the first place.”

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Deal.”

The three of you spend some time, first P.AI.nter made you uncomfortable since the memories of his little navipath tricks are unsettling you. But the more you got to know him, the more you felt at ease. He seems genuinely nice and interested in you, probably aiming to befriend you.

As you turned to leave, you could hear Painter’s voice behind you, sounding almost… amused. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped your lips as you and Sebastian walked back down the hall, the tension finally beginning to ease.

[ddollfface]

𝐅𝐚𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙎𝙞𝙘𝙠!𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝙭 𝙎𝙚𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙚!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

"I have sea foam in my veins, I understand the language of the waves."

Trigger Warnings; Small mention of S/A (not described), reader being a bad mom (?), gore (mention of fatty tissue, blood, etc.) lovesick behavior, kidnapping, reader makes a grand escape, bad writing, I just wrote this for shits and giggles lol If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡

Shit!

Shit!

Shit!

You swore that it was here! There was nowhere else it could be; where could he put it? There weren't too many places one could hide something, especially in such a small Lighthouse. Rummaging through the wooden chest, your chipped nails scrapped against the splintered wood, gasping when a secret compartment opened, revealing it.

Your coat.

Yes! There it was! You scooped up the fluffy cloth, holding it up to your nose, and breathing the scent of it. It still smelt the same. The scent of fresh salt and cold air filled your senses, filling you with a sense of contentment. Biting your lip, you hold back tears as you hold the coat as close as possible, rubbing your face into the fluffy material.

The coat was still in good shape, with some small stains here and there, but overall it was perfectly fine. The coat was still a smooth, grayish-blue leather material, completely worn in, and fitted you quite nicely. It felt the same, smelt the same, and appeared to be the same. It's been so long since you've held it in your arms! You felt as if this was the reunion of your lifetime! Why have you been parted for so long-

"Mama?" You jumped, whipping around to face the doorway, grasping your hands around the coat, caught off guard by the soft voice. Your eyes met with ones of the same color, ones so bright and full of confusion.

Your heart clenched.

"What's that, Mama?" The boy pointed a chubby finger at the coat, which you quickly hid behind your back, giving the boy a soft smile. You quickly stood, making sure to keep the coat out of sight, and approached the boy.

You brought the boy close, kneeling in front of him, and rubbing the back of his head with a shaky smile, "Why are you awake? It's really late, Bubba..."

The boy's lips pursed, bringing the stuffed seal close to his chest. The sight of the stuffy made your pupils dilate and lips taught into a frown, but you resisted the urge to snatch the stuffy from the child's arms and rip it to shreds.

"Sorry, Mama... The thunder is scary, Mama," The boy's lip wobbled, and his rosy cheeks grew puffy. You sighed, picking the little boy up and holding him on your hip, straightening out his gray nightgown. Ruffing his blonde hair, you pressed a kiss on his forehead, attempting to not be repulsed at the sight of the child.

It's not his fault, you remind yourself, and you repeat it like a mantra. It's not his fault. It's not his fault. How could it be his fault?

There's no way this innocent, little boy could be a fault for this. He was just brought into this world without any will, brought into a family filled with unreciprocated love. So, because of this, you must push through and treat him with love, something he deserves.

But God is it hard, especially when he has his hair, his skin, and his face. He looks so much like him, practically the spitting image of him. The only thing you two shared was eyes, but even then they were in his shape. Even when away from him, you cannot escape him, a mini him staring right back at you.

How horrible are you? To where you cannot look at a little boy without anything but hate? How can you look at this little boy and not see your son? You birthed him, grew him from the womb, and fed him from your body. What more of a connection could you have with someone? And yet you cannot give him the time of day, refusing to play outside, denying him any attention a normal mother would give.

All of this was for today, the day you'd regain your dignity, freedom, and personhood, away from the monster you dare call your husband. You mustn't let the little boy grow close to you because it'll make parting all the worse. You need to be able to separate, and you have to carry that strength with you now. You must do so just so you can reunite with your brethren once agian.

It's been so long since you've seen them, and you miss them dearly so. Your throat tightens as you adjust the boy on your hip, leading him toward the stairs before setting him down. Huffing out a soft sigh, you tuck a blonde curl behind his ear, ignoring the dreadful thump of your heart and calling of your heavy consciousness.

You have to do this. If not for family, but for yourself.

"There's nothing to be scared of, Bubba. Now, go back upstairs and tuck yourself in," You kneeled down, softly speaking to the little boy, who just nodded, giving you one last hug.

"Mmk, Mama. Night night..." The boy whispers, grabbing your cheeks with his small hands, and pressing a clumsy kiss on your cheek, making you chuckle. Pressing your forehead against the little boy's, you lift up his bangs, just to press a kiss onto his forehead and bring him into a hug.

The little boy wraps his short arms around your middle, pressing his face against your chest, his lip wobbling. Racking your fingers through his blonde curls, you hold back the tears that pool in your eyes, knowing that you just have to pull through. You were so close, you can't let this go to waste.

"Alright, go to sleep, Baby," You pull away from the little boy, giving him one last smile before ushering him up the stairs. Waving at him, you cringe as he turns his head around, (E/C) eyes peering back into your matching ones. It's as if he knows something amiss, judging and observing you like it's your last moments together. And how correct he is.

You have to hurry.

.

.

.

The rain was heavy, beating against your back, and soaking through your thine nightgown. The raindrops began to blur your vision, or is it your tears? At this point, it's impossible to tell.

pitter. patter.

Your nose so cold it's red and about to fall off, cheeks matching in shade. Your hair is wet and sticks to your jawline, framing your head like a halo. Fingers scraped raw, blood smeared across your smooth skin, and seeping into the fluffy coat that is now matted with blood and water.

It's impossible to see where you're going, but you know deep in your heart which trail leads to where. The smell of salt and fresh dirt guides you to your home: the ocean.

pitter. patter.

Holding the coat close to your chest, careful not to drop it. If you lose it, this would all be for nothing, and you'd be dragged back to the hell you called home. The twigs and forest brush roll under your feet, causing your footing to be loose and inconsistent, warning you to be cautious.

Though it's been years since you've been outside, you know from your heart that you'll make it - you have to. The ocean is welcoming you with open arms. You can feel the way the wind is pushing you faster. How the waves are calling out to you, like a siren song ushering you to the depth of the sea. Or how the trees show the path toward the sandy gate.

pitter, patter.

You're almost there - you can feel it. Your feet are carrying you faster than you thought possible, but you choose not to focus on such things, instead, focusing on getting home. There's no way he should know, you've planned too long.

You can see it, the taste of freedom seeping onto your tongue. Quickly rushing to put on the coat, you sprint across the sand, relishing on how you sink into the grainy ground. The comfort of nostalgia causes you to slow and almost miss the sound.

pitter, patter?

Huh, how long has that sound been on loop, constantly playing in the background? You've been so caught up, that you hadn't noticed it, assuming it was just rain. Before you could even get another word, to even think of turning around, you're tumbling towards the ground.

A face full of sand is the last thing you expected, but quickly forgot about. The burning sensation of torn flesh and oozing blood welcomed the disheartening feeling of mind-rotting pain.

Quickly jerking your head to look behind you, you're greeted by the sight of a harpoon lodged into the back of your thigh. It felt as if your leg was getting torn apart, tissue and fat getting spread and ravished by the rusty head of the harpoon. It snagged and dug into your skin, causing blood and bile to creep up your throat. The sigh ungodly. You felt lightheaded and hadn't even realized that you were slowly being dragged away from the ocean.

The tugging of the metal head of the harpoon caused you to call out, a silent scream leaving your lips and flooded tears pooling down your cheeks. The wet sand rubbed against your body in a way that was no longer nostalgic, but torturous. The tiny grains smothered in your hair, itching your scalp. The sand absorbed the thick, scarlet liquid, causing blood to pool around your legs and create a stain in the sand as you were dragged back to him.

And there he was, the man you called your husband. His golden curls were a little frizzy but seemed to glow under the silver lighting of the moon. His skin tan and layered with scars, along with chiseled muscles that contracted with every harsh tug at the rope, connecting you to him. If you weren't in your current circumstances, you would've thought he was an angel of some sort, but you knew that was far from the truth.

And his eyes gleamed with bloodlust, completely bloodshot and fanatic. Eyes that were once a beautiful hazel, swirls of brown and green that resembled that of the grown we walk on and trees we lie under, are now churning with a possessive monster ready to break free and ravage you.

He was no longer the sailor you had grown to love and admire, instead, he was now a hunter, a man you should've swam from the moment you saw him on that pier. But how could you have known?

He looked anything but harmful, more similar to a young babe than a possessive maniac. Who could blame you for being attracted to him, especially after he had helped you after your tail got caught in some mangy nets? His hands were so delicate, making sure to be careful not to hurt such skin.

Though he didn't know you weren't what you seemed, he still treated you as a living, breathing being, when most would've deserted you, or sold you on the market. After all, humans seemed to deem seals good for soup.

You thought you could trust him, and that's why you revealed yourself to him, exposing your identity as a selkie. If only you had known...

If only you had known what was lying behind that charming smile was a possessive and delusional man waiting for the right woman.

If only you had known that though he had a pretty face, the prettiest face you've ever seen on a human, it wasn't something to be fooled by, instead, you should've swum back in the ocean the moment he freed you from that damned net.

If only you had known that he'd take away your coat, stealing it in your sleep, pretending it got swept up in the ocean. That he'd help you get it back, just come up to his Lighthouse. He'll help you.

If only you hadn't trusted that pretty smile, taking his hand, and going up to his Lighthouse.

If only you had known that he'd take advantage of you, ripping your clothes off, and taking your cries as an invitation for more. Maybe if you had known about the human anatomy, you would've fought a little more and screamed a little louder.

But you didn't. You didn't know, and now you are being dragged back into the hands that stole you from your people, your home, and stole your life, trapping you with a baby boy.

Now, he whispers in your ear, cradling your head as sobs rack throughout your body. Your leg is bloody and torn, no recovery in sight. Tears of shame, guilt, and rage build up inside of you, so you pound your fists against his chest, screaming at him through the sobs.

His large hands just hold you in place, letting you tire yourself out, humming sweet nothings into your ear as he slowly weaves your coat from your hands. Quickly picking you up, careful not to touch your injured leg, he begins his walk home, leaving gore in his wake.

The ocean, your only witness, cries for its loss. The daughter it once had, who was so close to coming home, was now snatched away by the hands of an evil man. The tides rise, ridding the sand of the gore and blood that once was.

Closing your eyes, the last thing you see is the calming waves reaching out for you.

"Honey, it's time to go home."

[katsutora]

— HOMESICK

ft. isagi yoichi ; itoshi rin ; nagi seishiro ; bachira meguru ; chigiri hyōma ; itoshi sae

summary: them picking you up after a trip

note: i’d like to be everyone’s weekly teeth rotting fluff provider but then i remembered i dont have it in me to serve content every week LMFAO i lack prompts besties

⚘ ISAGI YOICHI

ㅤㅤhas a relatively normal reaction as he sees you approaching him, but is actually trying his best not to freak out. he smiles at you softly as if he didn’t almost explode from all the excitement. once you’re in the car, he doesn’t let go of your hand the entire trip home. can’t stop staring at you too (a huge simp, good for you) because it’s been a while since he last saw you in person and it’s still kind of surreal to him. hmm, what was that? hands on the wheels, eyes on the road? yoichi, seriously, pay attention oh my god. you better promise you’ve tried everything and that this really is the last resort. “kaiser is in the middle of the street.” oh? oh. oh shit. “i'll run him over.” i mean... you gotta do what you gotta do to snap him out of it, right? (no)

⚘ ITOSHI RIN

ㅤㅤhe’s definitely in a sour mood. seething. most likely scared every single person who passed by him. the fact that he’s rapidly gaining fame doesn’t help at all (prayer circle for that one poor kid who only wanted to ask him for his autograph). he’s leaning against the wall, looking super annoyed. the root of the problem? not the fact that he has to be there of course, more like why the hell haven't you arrived at the gate yet (calm down rin it’s only been like ten minutes lmao). misses you as hell but won’t tell? that rhymes. immediately wraps you in his coat as an excuse to hug you tightly. “t’s not that cold, rin.” refuses to let you go. he’s clinging onto you for dear life as if he’s finally found you after a lifetime. “i know. just a little longer.” his grip only tightens when he notices people looking at you two. gee, they’re just trying to get to the exit gate, stop blocking it smh.

⚘ NAGI SEISHIRO

ㅤㅤit’s almost comical how he suddenly turned into a lighthouse as soon as he spotted you. people are putting on their sunglasses indoors, someone help. mandatory bear hug (but there’s a 50% chance that you’ll both fall to the ground because he can be clumsy like that). “that was so cringe.” “you love it, though.” “i love you.” ugh sappy. if somehow you survived that acrobatic act, he’ll bend his 190cm ass after putting you down so you can kiss the top of his head! if you don’t, well, he's not gonna stand up any time soon because it’s “comfy” and definitely not because getting up is a hassle. gets super chatty all the way home. “did you know shidou decked rin again today?” “barou planted his face on the ground yesterday, king who?” “i told choki to watch the food in the oven btw.” says it in the most casual manner; you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “mhm. wait WHAT?”

⚘ BACHIRA MEGURU

ㅤㅤa pinball. will not hesitate to break through a crowd, bumping into everyone and everything. should be classified as a hazard to society. no jk. but he did almost tackle a kid when he was running towards you. has his arms wide open and ready to tackle you too embrace you. “you’re back! welcome home!” “i’m home!” “welcome home!” “i’m home!” don’t you have anything else to say besides that lmfao (it really went on for a solid five minutes). falls asleep on your lap in the car since he already spent all his energy on that whole “embodying a golden retriever” thing back there. looks so peaceful and angelic like that. also sleep-talks. “y’re hmm”. you didn’t expect him to remain this quiet but it’s the best nap he’s had in a while so uhh “karaoke night?” karaoke night he said. good luck to your poor neighbors tonight.

⚘ CHIGIRI HYŌMA

ㅤㅤladies and gentlemen, him. a runway model. is he picking someone up or is he going somewhere? with looks like that, no one will ever know. forget the elegant saunter; the moment he saw you, he full on sprinted. the type that brings you flowers and your favorite snacks. seems like someone who knows what he’s doing right? but when you pat his head in response to his warm welcome, he short-circuited because you just stole his line. “i’ve missed you.” immediately softens and melts in your embrace. you think it’s all calm and that until his sister arrives out of nowhere, calling out both of your names and the next thing you know, she’s taking pictures of you as if this is your graduation day. “lookie over here, you two!” you’ve never seen someone speedrunning five stages of grief in record time.

⚘ ITOSHI SAE

ㅤㅤmans turning the airport into a red carpet premiere smh; cameras flashing everywhere, people eager to ask him questions, etc. he’s learning that looking down on his phone isn’t a good enough disguise, and that his bored face isn’t scary enough to fend off his fans. oh finally, he thought as he spotted you amidst the crowd. “over here, sae!” “oh my, it’s itoshi sae!” but he has his gaze fixated on you and only you. don’t worry, of course he’ll notice if you grow uncomfortable with all the attention and will immediately wrap his arm around your figure. !! breaking news: itoshi sae quits the world of football and is now becoming a personal bodyguard. navigates through the crowd while mumbling “fall under my spell.” boy what they’re not shidou (narrator: they did, in fact, fell under his spell). “give me your number!” uhh? “move in with me!” wow it’s not your sae, huh? it’s everyone’s sae.

© 2022 katsutora ; do not repost and/or translate and/or claim my works

[alavestineneas]

Soul

pairing: Finnick Odair x fem!reader

summary: This is war, and people make choices. Sometimes, there is no right one.

warnings: typical hunger games violence, Finnick and Annie aren’t soulmates, minor character death

Haymitch clicks the skip button on the remote; the next pair of tributes shows up on the screen.

''District two,'' he announces. ''Male volunteer, Brutus. His main weapon is a spear. Female tribute: Y/N.''

"Wow," Peeta mutters under his breath.

''I know her,'' Katniss says, glancing at the man beside her. ''She is on TV all the time.''

''Trust me, she is everywhere. Y/N is your main competition—Capitol's darling, lines of sponsors, deadly with a knife. They call her Panther.''

"Panther?" Katniss scoffs.

"She killed one in the arena with her bare hands." Haymitch chuckles, seeing his tribute's face transform from confident to slightly horrified.

''She is committed. I'll give her that,'' Peeta jokes.

The woman on the screen gives the cameras a half-smile, joining hands with her partner. The District 2 audience roars in excitement. Katniss felt shivers coating her skin; something in the woman's gaze caught her attention.

-

''Nice dress, dear. Though I don't know if I can call it that.''

Y/N did not even turn around, completely ignoring Finnick's existence. Her dress, or rather, a piece of cloth, left a little to the imagination. Black, almost sheer fabric lightly coated her body, tracing its curves; the only stronghold of modesty was lace lingerie.

Finnick would lie if he said she wasn't impressive; the woman looked like a goddess. It was her job, after all. Besides, he had seen her in much less. They fucked a couple of times, both too drunk to remember. That's what he told her, at least. That it doesn't mean anything because, to her, it didn't.

Finnick remembers every whisper and every messy kiss. The smell of her perfume mixed with shampoo and sweat; Y/N's hands on his back. Not soft like Annie's; no, in calluses and cuts from hours of training.

He knows it's a dead end and still allows her to kiss him. She never stays, each time running through his fingers like sand. He wasn't in love with her. Love is supposed to feel light and warm, like Annie's smile, and this felt bitter.

And yet, his soul belonged to Y/N. Maybe because she didn't care about him, Finnick was willing to let her keep it. It wasn't fair. He was supposed to be happy with Annie. She was home, his lighthouse.

But Y/N was his sea.

''Look who's talking.'' The woman finally turned around, finishing checking the strings on her horse. ''What do you want, golden boy? An alliance?'' She raised an eyebrow.

''With you? I'd rather be dead.''

''I wouldn't worry about that part, Odair.'' Brutus intervened. ''We have fifteen minutes before the start, so I suggest you keep moving.''

His outfit was much more proper. Finnick guessed it was for the best; he was not particularly excited to see the man naked. Odair suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and flashed Brutus a smile instead. ''Of course.''

''Peacock.'' the man muttered.

Y/N chuckled at her partner's remark; Finnick headed to the District 12 chariot. He wished he didn't feel her piercing gaze on his back.

-

''I believe we hadn't met before. I'm Y/N, District 2.''

Katniss looked up from the target she threw knives at. The woman in front of her was truly stunning; the camera did not do her justice in The Reaping.

''Katniss Everdeen, District 12.''

The woman laughed, clearly finding her amusing. Katniss felt the tingle of anger—did she say something funny?

''Oh, darling, I know. Everybody here knows your name. After all, you are the reason we are here again.'' The woman came closer, taking the smallest blade from the row and throwing it into the target. It hit the dummy right in the head. ''Besides, I mentored Clove and Cato in your games. Wonderful children, you know. Marvellous fighters. Had every chance to win.''

Katniss glanced at the woman's face. It was stone-cold, and her eyes focused on the targets. She wondered if the reason Clove chose the knives was because of Y/N's win. How did the career mentors feel about sending children into the arena?

''They were...good.'' Katniss agreed.

''Here is my advice, Katniss Everdeen from District 12.'' The woman hit the last target with ease. ''Pay attention to the hands.''

Katniss wondered what that was supposed to be about until she looked down at her hands. Of course, she was holding the knife wrong.

-

The first interview the Capitol aired was more of a warning. Finnick is too lost to comprehend anything Caesar is asking Peeta, his attention fixed on the Y/N next to him.

She sits on the chair, anxiously tapping on the armrest. Her eyes follow every move Caesar makes. Y/N answers carefully and thoughtfully. She didn't know the rebellion was being planned.

''Katniss, can you remember when you spoke to Y/N in the training centre?'' Plutarch asks.

''I think so.'' Katniss frowns. ''She told me these games were done because of me.''

Beete shares a look with Plutarch. Finnick doesn't know why they are surprised; Y/N always was smart.

''Anything else?''

''She talked about Clove and Cato. And that I have to pay attention to my hands.''

''Your hands?'' Plutarch doesn't sound too sure.

''Yes. I was holding the knife wrong.'' Katniss looks around the room. ''I decided.''

Plutarch nods at him, and Finnick is finally free to leave the room. After seeing this, he has a lot to think about.

-

''Finnick, there is something we want to show you.'' Haymitch nods, and Finnick steps into a small room filled with screens.

Beetee is there too, as are Katniss and Plutarch. An uneasy feeling covers his stomach; if they have him here, something happened.

His mind floods with hundreds of possibilities. Annie is at the Capitol. Y/N is there too. He did not know if they tortured her; the woman didn't know about the plan. But so did Peeta, whose ''interview'' he is watching on the screen now.

His face is beaten, and he looks like he hasn't slept for days. The boy lost what looks like fifteen pounds, the ridiculous suit on him hanging like a sheet. Peeta says something about rebels using Katniss. His interview finishes, and the screen fades to black.

Finnick feels like he missed something until the screen lights up once more. This time, a figure is tied to a chair in the middle of the cell. Finnick almost jumps, the realization hitting him—it's Annie. She is crying, begging not to kill her. Her hair is a mess, and her skin is covered in bruises.

''Move in front of the camera.'' a male voice orders.

A person comes to stand to the left of Annie. It's Y/N. She is in a military uniform, her hair tied tightly. She looks different from the first interview—now calm and collected. Her steady hand holds a gun.

''Proceed.'' the same voice commands.

Katniss gasps. A loud gunshot fires, echoing in the chamber. The screen is covered in blood and brains. Finnick doesn't hear a word Plutarch says to him. Annie is dead. They killed her.

-

''Are you sad again?'' Y/N asks, sitting beside him.

Finnick doesn't answer, still fidgeting with a piece of rope.

''You have to eat, you know?''

''Why did you kill her?" he asks, looking into her eyes.

Y/N smiles. ''She was dead way before I pressed the trigger. You killed her when you picked me over her.''

''No.'' Finnick whispers. ''It's not true.''

''Not true? Each time you looked away when you kissed her, each time you whispered my name instead of hers, you think she didn't know?"

Finnick's lower lip trembles, tears blurring his vision. ''Shut up.''

''You can stop lying now, Finnick. For once in your life, be honest with yourself. It's kind of liberating, isn't it? Not having to worry about pretending anymore. You are free.''

''I said shut up!'' he shouts, throwing the nearest mug at her.

It hits the wall, crashing. The room is empty. It always was. A scared-looking nurse watches him through the glass, ready to call for help. He waves her off - just another one of his visions.

It haunts him that the only one appearing in his dreams is Y/N. It should've been Annie, but she is dead, and Finnick hopes she finally found her peace.

Y/N is with Capitol. It's not surprising; she has no reason not to be. She was saving herself. Annie was as good as dead anyway. Still, it broke him. All of these things they had to survive because of Snow, and she still chose to serve him.

He can't blame her—Finnick saw what they did to Peeta. He doesn't know what he would've done under that torture. Still, he hopes it hurts her, given the way she betrayed herself.

-

The rescue mission was successful. Peeta and Johanna are in District 13. They captured Y/N too, but Finnick doesn't care. Coin and Plutarch spent most of their time in her room. Nobody tells him anything, but Finnick guesses that Katniss's condition isn't going to work this time.

A few days after that, Coin has an announcement to make. There are numerous cameras present, and she, as usual, wants the surviving victors to be present. So, he sits near Katniss in the first row, waiting for the tribunal to start. He knows what his vote is going to be.

The president's Coin speech is unnecessarily long and dramatic. She waves her hands around, talking about lost fighters and the need to continue resisting. ''And now, I want to award a few of our bravest soldiers.'', she concludes.

''People are dying.'' Finnick hears Katniss mutter under her breath. He is not happy with the idea either. He just wants to get over this.

The first to get a medal is a man who was leading the rescue mission. Next: two rebel soldiers.

''The last person I want to honour made the rescue of our victors possible. They spied in the heart of the Capitol and were dedicated to the revolution even in the face of death.'' Coin gestures to the bottom of the improvised stage. ''Sergant Y/L/N.''

Finnick freezes. Annie. Her screams. A gun. She is an enemy. A killer. Anxious tapping. Pay attention to the hands. The world around him begins to collide.

Y/N steps are firm. She shakes the woman's hand, accepting the medal. A few claps ring in the hall—people are surprised and likely scared. District 2 victor's face holds a few new scars.

She gets off stage as quickly as she got on, taking her place beside Plutarch. Y/N sits straight, focused on the president's words. Finnick wonders why he can't hear anything except for the heartbeat in his ears. A taste of blood fills his mouth.

''Finnick?'' Katniss whispers.

The world stops spinning.

-

Y/N is tying the laces on her boots tightly, checking everything. She blends in with the soldiers easily; they even throw around a few jokes. This is her element, something she was born and raised to do. Y/N has the most weaponry on her hands: knives, guns, and a few grantees. They have another mission.

Peeta is right next to her. For some reason, he feels the most content having her around. When Katniss asked Y/N about it, she just shrugged. ''Mutt things.''

She is in Squad 451—of course. Coin wouldn't let such a famous face get away with just living. Finnick hates having her around and hates admitting that he understands her now. There was no other choice—Y/N had to kill Annie to prove her loyalty.

The mood in the team changes completely after Mitchell's death. Finnick doesn't know what to say to Peeta, too busy calming everyone else down, and Katniss is frankly completely useless, so deep in her own emotions.

''I'll talk to him.'' Y/N stands up, checking the gun.

Katniss looks at her in horror. ''No!''

''Let her,'' Finnick says, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose.

''How could you say that?" Katniss turns to him in anger. ''You saw what she did! You saw!''

''I did,'' Finnick agrees, his jaw tense. ''And because of that, you got Peeta back. So let her go, Katniss.''

Y/N watches their bickering silently. Finally, Katniss nods. The woman leaves them, approaching Peeta. Their voices are still heard, and Katniss eventually relaxes.

''They were right. I am a monster.'' the baker boy says, his eyes still closed.

''It makes two of us, then.'' Y/N jokes, sitting beside him. ''You are the one Capitol created, and I am one by choice.''

''How could you say that so calmly?''

''I came to terms with it pretty early. People see what they want to, Peeta. What do you see when you look at me?''

''You saved my life.'' he shrugged.

''Yes, but I lied, and I killed people to do it. Am I a monster?'' Y/N asks. The question is rhetorical. ''When I look at you, I see a scared eighteen-year-old boy, who just wants to survive. You are strong, Peeta. Stronger than most of us. This is war, and people make choices. Sometimes, there is no right one.''

Peeta stared at her for a solid minute. ''You aren't as bad as you think you are.'' he finally says.

Y/N smiles sadly. ''You aren't either.''

-

Katniss tries to focus on the wet ladder when she hears a shout.

''Why is he there alone?'' It's Y/N.

Katniss looks down - Finnick is fighting off mutts with his trident. There are a lot of them, she realizes. He can't handle that. Just as she turns to grab something to help, she sees Y/N coming down.

''Climb!'' she shouts at her, pulling out a gun. And Katniss does.

A mutt breaks Finncik's trident in half with a loud thud, lurching at his head next. Just as its mouth opens, it falls, lifeless.

''Here.'' Y/N throws him one of her knives. ''On your left!''

They are fighting back to back - Y/N has run out of bullets, so she uses knives instead. Duck, step, and push. They have done it thousands of times, both from career Districts.

Finnick doesn't have the time to count, but mutts are slowly covering the floor, painting the water red. He feels a sharp pain in his stomach—one of the bastards managed to get him good - and grabs the nearest wall for support. Finnick watches as Y/N kills the last monster, pulling her knife out of its chest.

''Y/N,'' he says, trying to grab her attention.

''You know, you could've asked them for hand-to-hand combat if you wanted to die that badly. What were you thinking, staying here with one piece of metal on your hands, huh?''

''Y/N.''

''That's why I said you are all not fit to be fucking soldiers. You lack common sense!''

''Y/N.''

''WHAT?'' she snaps, turning to him. Her face changes from angry to concerned in a matter of seconds. ''Finnick, you are bleeding.''

He nods, feeling his knees weaken. Y/N is already beside him, sitting him on the cold floor. The water hits and soaks her pants, but she doesn't seem to notice.

''It's okay, let me look,'' she mutters, removing his hands from the injury.

It's big; she notices with horror. If they can get him help in twenty minutes, he will survive. Anything longer, and it's a dead end. Finnick knows it too; he has seen enough wounds to understand his chances. He watches as Y/N takes off her jacket, pressing it into his stomach.

''Can you hold it for me?'' she asks.

Finnick nods, feeling a sharp pain coming back. Y/N searches in her pockets until she finally finds a radio set. She tries to turn it on a couple of times, her hands trembling.

''Y/N, it's okay.''

She shakes her head. ''No, you are not going to tell me it's okay. I'll get you help, no matter if you want it or not.''

Finnick looks at her, a slow smile appearing on his face. ''Kiss me.''

''What?" Y/N looks up from the radio, mortified.

''I said kiss me, Y/N.''

She leans in closer, salty tears staining her cheeks, and places a soft kiss on his lips. ''You are getting out of here alive,'' she whispers.

''I love you,'' Finnick mutters. He closes his eyes just for a second. He is so exhausted.

-

The first thing he sees is the overbearing light. Finnick struggles to open his eyes. If this was death, it was certainly not peaceful.

He comes to his senses slowly—first, he hears beeping, and then he feels his stomach.

''Fuck.'' Finnick groans. The pain is impossible.

''Finnick?'' He hears a familiar voice. It's Y/N.

Her face is puffy, but she looks real to him. Even if it is one of his visions, Finnick is still happy to see her.

''How do you feel?'' she asks, moving the sweaty hair out of his eyes.

''Are we dead?''

Y/N stops to look at him. ''No. The radio worked, and the team managed to find us in time.''

''Good.'' Finnick closes his eyes once more. ''Because you didn't say it back.''

A choked laugh escapes her lips. ''You are an idiot, Odair,'' Y/N says, pressing a kiss on his temple. ''But I do love you.''

Finnick smiles. He always knew his soul was safe in her arms.

[captain-mj]

hi! no pressure, just want to offer you an idea for non military au. ghost is former soldier, now he is a lighthouse keeper. one day he finds unconscious and maybe wounded selkie!soap on the beach and decides to take care of him, because the nearest city is very far away and he doesn't know what to do in strange situations like this.

I love this idea so much! Wrote this in a series of scenes to cover more of the story :) Also I wanted it to feel like an indie movie where you walk away feeling like you missed something.

Ghost was smoking quietly outside of the lighthouse, watching the stars. He was having one of those nights where he couldn't sleep. All of his duties were done for the night and the light would continue without him until morning. But he couldn't sleep.

Movement happened at the shoreline. His eyes quickly flicked over to it, watching for it to happen again. The water lapped over the shore and hit something, making it splash. Something that definitely was not a rock.

Occasionally, seals would wash on shore so he wanted to make sure nothing bad was happening. If they were hurt or tangled in nets, he'd try to help them. Even if the bastards liked biting him.

When he saw the soft fur lighting up in the moonlight, he resigned himself to having to help one of them. The very human foot that appeared though. That was new.

Ghost slowly walked closer, not making a sound.

The person in front of him had a seal coat on and nothing else. In this freezing cold, that wasn't a good idea. There was also blood that was slowly spreading around.

Ghost moved him gently, seeing where there was a broken spearhead in his side. Who the fuck uses spears? What the fuck happened to him that he'd be in the position to get hurt like this?

With how bad it was and how far they were from civilization, there was no way he'd make it unless Ghost did something. Good thing Ghost did all his own medical care and he could cover it.

Hopefully, mystery man wouldn't be too upset. He was sure if he explained he was ex-military and was medically trained, he'd understand. Or he wouldn't and he'd sue him.

Mystery man was heavy. And naked besides the coat. Not even underwear. He made sure to keep his... bits covered. Didn't want mystery guy waking up in a compromising position.

He'd hate to get blood all over his bed, but the couch would be hard to work with. So he laid mystery man in his bed, exposing the wound and not much else.

Ghost heated up a needle and threaded it. He started to clean the wound with vodka and pulled the spearhead out. As the needle slid in, the mystery man twitched but didn't wake up. The wound was deep and bloody, but he still got it under control. With a few bandages on top, he looked just fine.

The coat had to come off. It had blood all over it and needed to be cleaned. If it set in the fur, it might stain it. He gently took it off.

Ghost's focus on the wound shifted to focus on the man himself. His body was extremely toned like he worked out constantly. Scars littered his body, big ones that looked like they were from a shark and little ones from something. He couldn't quite figure it out.

Ghost put a blanket over him. After a moment, he tucked him in. Felt a little silly to be a grown man tucking in a grown man, but he did it for some reason. Mystery man sank a little further into the bed when he did it. His mohawk just barely stuck out from the blankets.

The coat. Ghost grabbed it and took it to his laundry room. With how it looked, he probably needed to handwash it. He soaked it first, getting all of the blood out, before he put some soap on it. It was the same he used for his balaclava so he knew it wouldn't be damaging. Then he put it up to dry.

It took a while, but he managed to fall asleep on the couch.

-

A few hours later, there was movement in his home. He tensed up when it happened and went on high alert. On instinct, he went for the knife under his pillow but it wasn't there.

Mystery man was staring at him. Giant black eyes staring deep into him. Feral.

"Where the fuck did you put it?" Mystery man moved so fast, pouncing on him, using his thighs to pin him down. His hands grabbed Ghost's wrists so he couldn't attack him.

He was still naked.

Ghost kept his eyes trained on his eyes, not wanting to look down and be a perv.

Was it technically pervy if this guy jumped on him?

"Where is my coat?" He bared his teeth.

Ghost's eyes widened, seeing the set of seal teeth. The eyes.

"What the fuck are you?"

Mystery man snapped at him, ready to sink his teeth in to him, and then winced right as Ghost felt the warm blood hit his stomach. With practiced ease, he flipped them around, pinning him down now. He then stood up and got some more bandages. "You ripped your stitches. Stay right there."

Silence followed as Ghost restitched him and put more bandages on him. Once he was sure he wouldn't bleed out again, he pressed him down on the couch. Mystery man looked up at him, something fierce and wild in his expression. He looked beautiful honestly. In a frightening way. Like an angel.

"What are you?"

He snarled at him but looked down at where Ghost's hand was pressed to his chest to keep him down. His hand dwarfed his chest. It made the situation a lot less tense. Both of them believing they could definitely kick the other's ass.

"Selkie."

"The fuck is that?"

"Sometimes I'm a seal. Sometimes I'm a person." He explained, slowly relaxing more. "Where is my coat?"

Ghost realized this person was certified insane. Though he did see the dark eyes and seal teeth, though maybe they both were. "I cleaned it."

"Cleaned it?"

Ghost nodded. "Yeah. I washed it since it was bloody. You're going to need to stay here for a bit. You'll need to heal some more or you'll rip those stitches and bleed out. No jumping around either."

He frowned but seemed more content now.

He was still fucking naked.

Ghost grimaced. "What's your name?"

"Soap."

"Soap?"

"That's what the people up the street call me."

Ghost thought about the fact that there was not another house for about twenty miles and decided to ignore that. "Just relax. I'll find you some clothes?"

"Why?"

Ghost wrinkled his nose at him and went to his bedroom. He found a few things and looked up, freezing.

his face.

He hadn't been wearing his mask last night. Why would he? It was cold, but not that cold and there was no one for miles.

This guy had seen his face. And while yes, he had seen this man's... everything, his face was an intimate affair.

If he put the mask on now, it would cause even more questions and problems. If he didn't, the man would still be looking at him.

Then the man was there.

"I ripped my stitches again."

"Fucking hell."

-

Once Soap was bandaged, dressed and back in his coat, he was more than happy to take up Ghost's entire couch, body spread out and branching. The coat hugged him perfectly. A glove made for him.

His bright blue eyes were staring at him. Ghost had to stare and try to remember if they were blue before as well. They fit his face. Bright blue eyes with tan skin and pretty features. Not delicate by any means. Strong jaw and nose. But definitely pretty.

"So, Ghost." Soap started to speak, glancing at where Ghost was cooking for them in the kitchen. "Why are you here?"

"I run the lighthouse."

"The big tower with the light on it?" Soap sat up curiously, tilting his head.

Ghost nodded. "That's the one."

Soap hummed. "Always wonder what that did." He put his head on the back of the couch, staring at Ghost with his pretty blue eyes and dark eyelashes.

"Helps boats know where the shore is."

Soap hummed in response and continued to watch.

Ghost brought him food, watching Soap start to shovel it in his mouth with his hands. "Do you not know how to use a fork?"

Soap snapped at him and Ghost let it go.

-

Ghost watched his progress with great interest. Soap's wounds healed faster than the average person and it healed cleaner. It was still a slow process though so he had to watch carefully. He never slipped the mask back on. Maybe he should’ve. It would be smarter too.

Soap noticed the masks but he never said anything. He never passed judgement on Ghost’s quirks. His giant blue eyes peered at him all the time. Absorbing him. It was odd, being the one watched. Though, he did watch him back.

They got into long staring contests which were tons of fun for him. It was calming. Weirdly. Soap was much like the ocean he came from. Unsettling and eerie and beautiful. Especially the eyes.

Ghost did research, trying to find out if maybe selkies had an effect like this. Instead he just found dozens and dozens of things about their coats.

He didn’t touch the thing. It looked soft. But it made him nervous in a weird way. Like he’d make it dirty. Didn’t help that Soap went from civil human to snarling animal if he glanced at it. Big black eyes ready to rip him to shreds.

Soap never truly scared him. Unsettled, sure. But Ghost was pretty sure he could take him.

Pretty sure.

Soap was complaining again. Maybe horrid noises as he rolled around the floor.

“I could help if I knew what was wrong.”

“Dirty.”

“You want a bath?”

Soap paused his writhing to consider. “Yes. I would like... a bath."

Ghost nodded and fixed it for him. He made it cold. For some reason it felt right to do so.

Soap sank deep into the water and looked very happy. It made Ghost feel calmer. Big black eyes stared at him from the water.

He had seen them before. While out on the beach, he had seen those eyes staring at him.

A predator from the depths. Maybe like cats and wolves, this predator could be tamed as well.

Ghost grabbed the shampoo and started to wash Soap's hair, enjoying the softness of the strands. He used nicer shampoo for the smell so he hoped it was okay. With how Soap's was styled, he assumed he took pride in his hair.

Soap relaxed into the freezing water, humming. "A little warm for my taste."

"Should I put ice in it?"

"That sounds good."

So Ghost poured ice in the bathtub. He started to wonder what this was. If maybe he had finally killed himself and this was some weird purgatory. Or maybe it had been so long since he had a conversation that he was imagining this. What if he had a wild seal in his home?

Ghost decided this was a path he didn't want to travel. He could live with not knowing.

Soap relaxed and his eyes went back to the nice blue.

-

Ghost took his bed back after the third night. Soap stayed on the couch. He was still healing and outside of when he wanted to be dramatic, he rarely moved.

Ghost cooked for them every morning and night before going to check on the lighthouse. He did his normal duties and then came home in record time every day.

Soap was always doing… something. Usually staring out the window at the ocean or biting at his pillows or laying dramatically on the floor like a broken doll. Ghost would sit with him and they’d talk.

They sat there for a few minutes before Soap looked at him. Dark eyes staring into him again. Shredding him. Making a place inside of him that only Soap could squirm into.

"If you died, you think you'd go to Valhalla?"

"Valhalla is for people who die fighting."

"Are you not fighting now?" Soap asked him and smiled. It was impish. Like he had secret Ghost wasn't getting.

Ghost frowned. "No. I'm not fighting now."

Soap grabbed Ghost's hand, comparing their hand sizes. "So what are we eating tonight? Fish again?"

"Yeah, I can make more fish." Ghost glanced at him, watching his mouth.

"Thank you." Soap batted his eyelashes at him and smiled softly.

They fell in sync so easily. Ghost cooking and Soap by his side to watch it. If it weren't for Ghost, he'd eat the fish raw, but it was impolite to do so in the house.

Soap licked over his teeth. Giant things. Sharp.

Ghost thought of what it would be like to feel them pierce his throat.

-

Ghost wasn't sleeping. He laid down and just stared at the ceiling.

Soap had healed. He could leave now. Maybe that's what kept Ghost up. Or maybe it was the fact that Soap was clearly moving.

The door creaked open and Soap stepped in. He didn't speak, just found where the bed was in the dark. Slowly, he got on the bed next to him and then moved on top of him, straddling him.

"My name, when I played human, was Johnny."

"My name was Simon."

It felt inevitable. The way their lips brushed against each other. Pressed soft but insistent. Intent on devouring each other.

"Simon." Johnny said softly. "First human I've met than I've liked."

"Thank you." Ghost felt honored weirdly enough. He pulled him closer to kiss him more.

Johnny's mouth traveled down his jaw and to his throat. Simon relaxed, waiting for the sting. For the inevitable death. He'd welcome it like a lover. Like Johnny.

Instead it was only soft kisses. Trailing and claiming. Spiraling around. Fingertips searching each other in the dark.

Johnny moved and slowly undid the tie on Ghost's pants. "I want to give my gratitude."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. Want you to touch me."

This was Valhalla. Or maybe that purgatory he feared. Scars all over his body ached as he reached for Johnny's face, cupping him. "Johnny."

"Simon..." He breathed against him.

Their mouths stayed close, breathing in each other's air as they moved against each other. It was slow and aching and it made Ghost want to take Johnny's coat and mix them together in the sheets. To never let him leave and stay there for eternity, breathing each other in.

He'd never. Johnny finally sank his teeth into him. Into his shoulder. Ghost groaned and grabbed on to him. Johnny's hands. They dragged him under.

It had been so long since he had been touched. He felt undone by Johnny. Simon tried to reciprocate, to make Johnny feel just as good.

Until they were both wrecked and panting and sinking into the bed.

Johnny clawed at him and buried his face in his neck. He kept him pinned down so his hands could go over Simon's body.

The touch was heavenly. It felt like it was burning him.

Simon held him close.

"Are you going to disappear in the morning?"

"Do you want me to?"

Simon held him closer, fingers going through the fur of his coat. "No. God no."

[waynes-multiverse]

On The Beach

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: A few moons ago, on a hunt like any other, Dean unexpectedly met a girl who not only spun his head around in the blink of a literal eye but also made the brave hunter face some of his biggest fears to date.

Warnings: light language (very tame for me), a bit of emotional angst & grumpy Dean, fluff ❄️

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Another day, another fic to a Swift song 🙃 The first draft had a very dark, unhappy ending, but I couldn’t bring myself to hurt those two precious babes, so enjoy some pure fluff, my loves! 💚🌌 Inspired by: Snow On The Beach by Taylor Swift ft. Lana Del Rey

Dean Winchester Masterlist || Main Masterlist

It’s a night like any other as Y/N closes down her flower shop in the small coastal town. She stores away a few leftover arrangements, counts the cash in the register, organizes the ribbons by color and width, and waters and prunes all the remaining plants in the greenhouse.

The winter weather ravages outside, bringing freezing December winds with the usual salty sea breeze as she smells the arriving snow in the air, the first one this season, and wraps her coat a little tighter around her body, snuggling her cheeks into her cozy wool scarf. It’s already black as night, the crescent moon standing high above the ocean, when she locks the shop behind her and starts her usual walk home, her house only four blocks up the road.

The street lamps pale in comparison to the cheerily decorated yards and roofs of her neighbors before the headlights of a classic black car blind her periphery as it passes by her, soon disappearing with a rumble around the corner again.

“Brrr, it’s freezing cold, man,” Dean grumbles into his jacket and removes his palms from the steering wheel for a second. He cups them around his mouth to warm them with his hot breath before turning the heat up in the Impala even more.

“I’m fine,” Sam nonchalantly shrugs next to him in a fucking t-shirt. He removed the flannel an hour ago and discarded it on the backseat.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re not human. Freak,” Dean scoffs under his breath and shakes his head, making the younger Winchester chuckle. “Why did you drag me all the way to Rhode Island in the middle of December, man? We could be at home in the bunker, slurping egg nog and watching Die Hard instead of freezing our asses off. Stupid haunted lighthouse…”

“Dude! Can you stop complaining for five seconds, maybe? You’ve been grumpy since we passed Philly. What’s up with you?” Sam throws him a concerned puppy dog look, which only annoys Dean more.

“Nothing, I’m fine. I just hate the beach and the cold and lighthouses–,” Dean mutters, his fingers turning blue around the steering wheel.

Sam’s head snaps to him with a creased brow, “Lighthouses?”

“–and the ocean…”

“Yeah, uh, that usually comes with the beach and the lighthouses, Dean,” the younger Winchester laughs, amused.  

“Yeah, whatever, man,” Dean lets out a deep sigh, his brow woven into a permanent scowl at this point. “What’s the address of the girl that witnessed the last death again?”

“Uh, Y/N Y/L/N. Lives at 302 Maplewood Street,” Sam reads from the neatly organized files in his lap. “Just take a left at the next corner.”

“Great,” Dean mumbles dreadfully and makes a left turn onto the target street.

No matter how hard he rummages through the depths of his soul, the hunter can’t quite pin down his recent moodiness. It’s a feeling of dread, sadness, and anger that just bubbles up in his chest at random times and overtakes his whole body and mind before it disintegrates into thin air again like the ghosts he hunts. And maybe after all this time and all the wars and all the pain, it should be no surprise that he feels a little haunted, too.

Well, let’s be honest. He’s fucking cursed.

The melancholy comes and goes like the ocean waves. It almost seems natural. The ebb and flow of a restless life on the road, the possibility of dying every goddamn day, or worse, the fear of ending up completely alone. I Am Legend is his goddamn nightmare.

A hunter’s life is emotionally abusive, so no wonder he constantly feels down on his luck. Especially on holidays like Christmas, when it’s supposed to be all about joy, love, and family. Not even the jolly twinkling lights of the merrily decorated houses around him can cheer up his gloom as he taps his calloused and beaten knuckles on yet another front door to ruin someone’s life. What is his job even?

Hi, Dean Winchester – professional life-ruiner, cold-blooded killer, and ghostbuster extraordinaire. Pleased to meet you. May I interest you in something horrifying that most likely will cost your life or at least give you intense nightmares you never wished you had?

As the red door of the small stone house, adorned with a beautiful pine wreath, opens, however, a stunning young woman greets him with a blinding smile. Dean’s breath hitches as he stops in his tracks, heart, sense, and time halting with him.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, which for sure as hell is too long, his lips unfreeze and curl into a genuine smile, warmth filling and replacing the empty coldness in his ribcage that has dwelled there for a lifetime.

Y/N watches her boot prints in the sand fade away with the next wave, a pocketful of stars twinkling above her head. She closes her eyes and makes a wish upon the next shooting star, her heart filling with a longing that wraps around her soul like the emerald northern lights she used to see on fishing trips with her father. Green is the color of hope, and green is all she sees, even on dark nights with her eyes closed.

The phone in her coat pocket vibrates and disturbs her trance. Her eyelids flutter open with a smile and a heartbeat full of faith. Sometimes wishes do come true.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean chimes through the speaker as soon as she presses the phone to her cold ear under the beanie, the warm, familiar timbre of his deep voice melting her heart like the wax of a burning candle.

“Hey, I miss you. How’s the hunt? Are you and Sam okay?“

Whenever he calls, it’s always the same first question – “Are you alright?”. Because whenever he leaves, she’s always worried, can’t sleep and eat until she knows the answer. So, she takes midnight walks up and down the beach until the phone rings again and soothes the ache in her chest. The impossibility of wanting him right next to her each and every day until her dying breath rips her apart at the seams sometimes, her heart needing more stitches than it should.

Right around a year ago, the Winchester brothers stood on her doorstep like the Christmas present she didn’t ask for. They changed her life in a blink of an eye, made it more magical and simultaneously more horrifying, too. She helped them with a ghost case in town, an old local myth surrounding the rundown lighthouse. Dean heroically saved her life. Then, she moronically saved his and Sam’s. The older hunter yelled at her until he didn’t. Until she kissed him. Until she clasped his freezing palm and led him to the beach. Until she held him till his breathing calmed with the ocean, and they talked till the morning sun came with the first fall of snow.

She hasn’t been the same ever since that night. Neither has he.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” he assures her with a warm chuckle, causing her heart to leap across states in search of him. “Hunt is over. Sam’s finishing up. What are you up to? Are you out for a walk?”

“Yeah, I’m down at the beach like usual,” she sighs, drawing a pouting line in the sand with the tip of her shoe.

“Figured. It’s a nice night out,” he says, and hearing the casual smile in his voice, she has a hard time keeping the scowl on her face alive as she imagines his cute freckle-dusted dimples.

“Would be nicer if you were here,” she notes hopelessly hopeful before her gaze lifts to the moon over the horizon, her brow furrowing. “Wait… How do you know that? Did you check the weather?”

“Sure did,” it sounds behind her as clear as the star-filled sky above her. Her heart drops, jolts, rejoices at the sight of the hunter that so shamelessly stole it as he stands before her – tall, strong, and gorgeous smile included, like a scene from a romantic movie.

“Oh my God, Dean!”

The beam that lights up her face when she recognizes him reminds the hunter of the picture that hangs on her living room wall – the one that shows her winning smile at her eighth-grade baking contest. A blazing warmth spreads through his chest, his chapped lips not able to deny her a smile, albeit his torn heart and broken mind still don’t fully understand how a gorgeous girl like her could even miss him at all.

The phone in her hand then drops into the wet sand as she falls into his embrace, almost taking both of them down before Dean’s strong arms catch her and steady their feet on the forgiving ground. As soon as she lifts her face from his chest, her sparkling eyes bore into his as her arms unravel from his neck, hands traveling to his scruffy cheeks. Needily, she clasps them and feels their blushed warmth, fingernails denting his skin as she drags his lips to hers in a breathtaking kiss, tongues mingling between teeth.

“Air,” Dean chokes out with a chuckling cough as he pulls back from her, his hot breath still ghosting over her swollen lips as his palms grip her waist tightly and keep her locked in his arms. “I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart,” he assures her with a gentle peck on her forehead and lifts his hand to her face, caressing the soft flush in her cheek as a warm smile curves on his lips. “It’s been too long.”

“Forty-two days,” she reminds him, and Dean loves and hates it all at once that she misses him so goddamn much she always counts the days since she’s last seen him. And while Y/N surely misses him to the moon and back, Dean can guarantee that he misses her infinitely more. “How did you get here so fast? This morning you said you were still in New Mexico.”

“Yeah, well, couldn’t wait a whole day’s drive to see you, so I flew here,” he shrugs coolly but can’t help the grin rising on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, you what? You took an actual plane? But you hate flying,” she points out with an adorably knitted brow. Dean never technically admitted he was afraid of flying, always told her he didn’t particularly care for it, not wanting to seem like a wuss. “Sam even once said it scares the bejeezus out of you.”

That little…

“Yup, flight was awful, thanks for asking,” Dean quips with an insecurity-overshadowing, too-cool-for-his-own-good grin while he mentally notes down to hit his younger brother over the head later. And as his pine-green eyes soak up her sunshine with a greedy need for happiness, his heart relishes in her love.

Until it doesn’t. Until it feels too goddamn selfish.

The last time he saw Y/N, she told him that she loved him. Loved him. Him. Even after forty-two days, it still hasn’t sunk in. How could it? It sounds insane. More insane than monsters and God’s plan. More insane than his entire life story itself.

Naturally, the hunter couldn’t say anything back. It felt surreal, like a dream he wasn’t supposed to have. It didn’t feel like it was his to take. She didn’t feel like she was his. The shock took his whole body hostage, afraid admitting it would curse her love for him and twist it somehow. Not that she even wanted or expected an answer from him. She already knew everything there was to know – about him, about his life. So, she simply said she wanted him to know that there was someone out there in this big, wide world that loved him and thought of him every day. That’s it.

What’s he supposed to do with that, huh?

But when the hunter left her for the millionth time this year, the real torture began. He could deal with physical pain easily, even thrived in it. He could be torn apart and ripped to shreds a billion times, and he still wouldn’t care. Emotional torture, however, was a different story. He couldn’t take the overthinking, the sleepless nights, the helplessness, the anxiety in his heart, or the choked air in his lungs whenever he thought about her, which was always. She was a constant in his soul, a complex math equation that allowed no variables. She never went anywhere.

She was there when he snuck with Sam through the halls of yet another abandoned warehouse on the hunt for a few vamps. She was there when he thought about doing something stupid and reckless to play the hero instead of doing the smart and right thing. She was there when he washed off the blood in the motel room shower, thinking how he didn’t want to break her heart by not answering her next phone call. She was there when he couldn’t close his eyes at night and stared at the ceiling, imagining how his little brother would have to break the news of his death to her.

And eventually, after forty-two days of torture, of heartache, of longing, the hunter broke. He couldn’t do it anymore.

It gnawed on his heart that he never said it back. Because she deserves to hear it. Because living and breathing without her seem useless. Because having hopes and dreams is worthless if she’s not in any of them. Because she’s the best fucking thing that ever happened to him. Because what the hell is he even fighting for if it’s not all for her. Because all the pros outweigh the biggest con. Because it’s goddamn true.

Dean loves her, too.

As he holds tightly onto her, he breathes into the feeling of having her in his arms, of her head buried deep in his chest, of her arms securely wrapped around his torso. He feels the love for him radiating from her body, feels the safety she offers him, and feels their hearts melting into one through layers of fabric, skin, flesh, and bones. Embracing her is the most magical and otherworldly experience. It’s mind-blowing that he now has someone that he can touch, someone he can drive towards, someone he can see with his own eyes while he’s goddamn awake.

Perhaps, love is not supposed to feel real. It’s intangible, indescribable, and inexplicable, and if you applied all the criteria of reality, love shouldn’t exist at all. But as the first snowflake grazes his cheek, he opens his eyes and watches more white stars falling from the sky and covering the sandy beach under a soft blanket. And suddenly, love comes down all around him like the snow itself.

It’s not some weird, beautiful, unobtainable, and unmaintainable dream. It’s here. It’s now. And it’s her.

“I love you.”

His confession comes out in a blurb that almost could be mistaken for a glitch in his impenetrable matrix. On top of that, he also mumbled it into her hair, but who cares? It has left his heart and definitely reached her ears as Y/N lifts her head from his warm chest, gaze wandering up till it meets his own. He swallows, nerves getting the best of him, which wasn’t a lot, to begin with. And then, her pink lips curve into an amused smile.

“I know.”

He stumps, his eyebrows quirking together so much it almost provokes a headache, which causes her to giggle. “How?”

She locks her arms around his neck and grins, “Guess your actions speak louder than your words, Winchester. Besides, you took a plane for me, even though you almost pooped your pants.”

“I did not almost p–”

His protest is left unfinished, stopped by her lips crashing against his, and he can’t help but toss every clever comeback out the window and kiss her back. There’s another giggle when he hesitantly draws back from her mouth, his thumb caressing the glow in her dimple as he places another peck on her hairline.

“Sweetheart, you know what happens when you kiss me like that.” Well, maybe he still had one clever comeback in reserve.

“Uh-huh,” she laughs cheekily and tip-toes up enough for another kiss on his lips. “I love you, too.”

Dean playfully rolls his eyes and pecks the tip of her cold nose. As if being cute is going to save her tonight. “So what you’re saying is, I worried and went nuts for nothin’ over the last few weeks?”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, and he would’ve almost bought into her innocence if it weren’t for that little mischievous smile on her lips. “I told you back then you didn’t have to say it.”

He nods and purses his lips. “Yeah, well, some things shouldn’t be left unsaid, y’know?”

And when she gives him another heartwarming smile, it sends him to another planet. His fluster returns because what else is there left to say? He hasn’t exactly planned past this moment, hasn’t even dreamed he’d get this far.

“So, uhm, what’s next? I figured we could go to that maple farm in Vermont you’re always telling me about. Or, uhm, maybe drive north till we see the-, uh, the aurora bor-, uh, thingy.”

“Borealis,” she helps him along, biting her lips very hard to suppress the grin.

“Yup, that. We could see that,” he suggests with the eagerness and excitement of a little boy who found a Lego set under the tree.

“Slow down, tiger,” she chuckles, her fingers playing with the lapels of his jacket. “First, tell me how long I get you for this time before you plan all our time in bed away.”

“Well, uh…” He clears the lump in his throat, and she must’ve noticed his nervousness, because not even a second later, she interlaces her fingers with his and gives him the reassurance he needs to continue. “For-, uhm, forever.”

“What?” His reply has even taken Little-Miss-Know-It-All by surprise as she shakes her confused head for clarity and blinks at him.

“Yeah, uhm, we can talk about the details later, but… I’m all yours now,” Dean smiles and is relieved when she mirrors it before his hand reaches back to scratch his neck. “I mean, for as long as you’ll have me and let me stay with you at least.”

“Well, guess it’s forever then,” Y/N replies, tongue-in-cheek. “How about some hot cocoa and cheesy Christmas movies first before we make vacation plans over a super greasy breakfast tomorrow, huh?”

“A woman after my own heart,” the hunter beams and preciously kisses her temple. He interlaces his fingers with hers before leading them home through the glistening white sand, the snow falling down around them.

To think I almost killed her... 🤣  --> ALTERNATE ENDING

Everything Jensen Tag: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deandreamernp @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @recoveringpastaaddict @ladysparkles78​ @muhahaha303 @mimaria420​

Dean Tag: @parinarain​ @hobby27​

[lovepotionsandlust]

pt 12

Freds POV

Fred stood watching you talk with Ginny, feeling relief as you both laughed with one another. The buzz in the air of a successful grand opening still had his nervous system on high. He tried focusing on the ledger of sales, his attention continuing to pull back to you. He should be feeling proud, ecstatic even, yet anxiety riddled him. No success of this store meant anything to him if he couldn’t share it with you. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified of losing you, he wished he could go back in time to convince George to talk to you sooner or told you himself.

He had sat on your front stoop all night, just on the off chance you had changed your mind and decided to talk to him. Only getting up to return to the burrow when the sun had risen over the hills, telling him he had to get home to get dressed for his first day. He would never admit to anyone that the reason he didn’t sleep a wink that night was not because of pre-opening jitters, but because he refused to know waking up without you.

He still had no idea where your relationship stood, but you showed up today and that had to mean something right? Replaying the moment you came to fix his waist coat; he craved your skin to brush against his. His hands had been shaking so badly trying to get dressed, he was surprised he had not made more mistakes.  When that jerk had been flirting with you at the counter, he could have burned a hole into the back of his head with how hard he was staring. Although, when he had asked “are they your boyfriends or something like that?” you had replied “something like that.” Were you just trying to deter this guy? Or did you mean it? Fred would have given anything to have you come rest your head on his arm the way you do when you’re both focusing on the same thing. Your embrace always saved him from himself, you were the lighthouse on the coast pulling him back to safety every day. Standing in this uncomfortable limbo, he was more lost than he cared to let himself understand.

“Are you even listening to me?” George’s question dragged him back to the task at hand.

Fred pressed his palms into his eyes in attempts to force them to focus. “I’m sorry George, just tired. It’s been a long day.”

Reopening his eyes, he looked up to find you glancing over in his direction, butterflies filled his entire body as you gave him a small smile before looking back to Ginny. It was enough to nearly bring him to his knees. Seeing you talk to Ginny gave him hope, if you could talk it out with her, maybe you could talk it out with him and George.

“Why don’t we pick this back up in the morning, day two has to be a little less crazy.” George closed the book, putting it under his arm, his gaze now also shifting to you. “Has she said anything more to you?”

Fred shook his head, “not yet. I thought maybe after we closed, but I don’t want to push her. I’m just grateful she was here at all.”

The twins watched as you carried boxes of restock into the back with their sister. “I really am sorry Fred. I should have told her, or maybe we should have told her together. I don’t know what came over me.”

Fred couldn’t find the words to respond, he wasn’t mad at George, he wasn’t mad at all, just devastated and confused. He shared a look with his brother, trusting he would know what it meant.

George nodded, “We will fix this, even if that means she never speaks to me again, you deserve to be happy, you both do.”

If Fred was confident that he could have spoken his mind without breaking down in front of everyone, he would have told George that he was hoping that you would choose to be with both of them. You deserved more love than what one person could provide, who better to help give you the world but George? You loved so deeply, he sometimes felt unworthy of your praises, but he was thanking the stars that he got them.

He silently made a promise to himself that regardless of what you chose, he would never again let a day go by without letting you know just how much you meant to him.

***

The lights of the store had been shut off, the doors locked, and the group all started to make their journeys home. Fred and George stood in front of the curved orange windows, taking a moment to absorb everything that had happened on their first day. Freds mind continuing to wander to you, still silently feeling desperate to melt into you once again. You pushed your way in between the two of them, joining them to stare up at the storefront.

“You two really did do an amazing job.” You spoke softly, both turned to face you.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” They spoke in unison.

You sighed stepping forward, turning to look at them, you wrapped your arms around yourself. “I need to talk, and I need you both to just listen, can you do that?”

Fred and George nodded, bracing themselves for whatever it was you had to say.

“I want to start by saying that I know no one can choose who they love, or under what context they love someone, so know that I hold no one accountable for that. On the contrary, how all of this has been handled is inexcusable.” You took a deep breath, allowing you to find your center. “We all were at fault for this situation.”

A look of confusion was shared between the twins as you continued.

“I have spent the last 24 hours replaying every interaction I have had with you both, how could I not see it? Honestly, I think that part of me was wanting not to see it, because how could this work? How could I let myself admit that you both were in love with me? Or that although I had fallen so hard so fast for Fred, that slowly I had started to gain feelings for George as well. I discounted my feelings as platonic, I was even stupid enough to tell myself that it was just because you two are twins and maybe I was confused. The truth of the matter is that I do feel something for you both.”

Fred and George stood frozen in place, relieved to hear that you did have feelings for each of them, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“It would seem that the parts of your family that have talked to me about everything all feel that I should be with both of you. I don’t know how any of this would work, but I am willing to try. Under a few conditions.”

“Anything.” They both spoke.

“One, no more secrets and no decisions are made for me. I can make my mind up for myself, there is no protecting me by holding things from me. Two, I will not do this if it’s going to be a game of playing “what is fair”. There are no favorites, and I will not be fought over like some toy. Three, if for even a second this starts to cause a rift between the two of you, I leave. I cannot and will not be the reason you no longer have such a strong relationship. Lastly, we focus on what feels right for us, not what anyone else may have to say about this situation.”

Fred took a small step closer, silently awaiting your approval to respond, you gave him a small nod.

“None of us knows how this is going to work, but I believe I speak for the both of us when I say, we are more than ready to figure it out with you.”

George now stepping forward, “We know we should have talked to you earlier about this, I was just so afraid. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to choose, and I definitely didn’t want Fred to lose you.”

You raised your hand prompting him to pause, “That’s another thing, no heroics. If we are doing this together, we must do this together. No sacrificial lamb mentalities. If there is one thing that I need to make very clear to the both of you is that neither of you is less important to me than the other.”

“I just think so highly of each of you; not only is Fred my brother but he is my best friend, and you? You are the most enchanting person I have ever met. It made sense to me that you belonged together, it may take me some time to understand that somewhere in that reality, I belong as well.”

“Time, I have. I will need patience from you both as it is going to take time for me to fully trust you again.”

“But you are willing to try?” Fred asked.

“Yes I am.”

Fred reached out to touch you, this time you did not pull away, welcoming his embrace. The two of them enclosing the space between each of you, their bodies brushing against yours.

“So where do we go from here?” Fred and George questioned.

“We go home.”

***  

Deciding to be with both twins had been one of the decisions you had ever made. As the weeks passed by, the three of you were finding your rhythm together. Fred had always been very direct with you about his feelings, never afraid to show you physical affection which you loved. George on the other hand was a bit more reserved with you, you couldn’t tell if he was still nervous or if he was just more of a private person.

Standing in the kitchen at the burrow you were helping Molly wash the dishes after everyone had finished their dinner. You spent more time there than at your own home.

“I am really glad you decided to take us up on our offer to stay.” Molly said.

“I know I keep saying it, but thank you so much Molly. If there is anything more that I can do around the house to help, please let me know.”

“I have not had help doing these dishes in ages, between that and you keeping my boys in line, you are doing more than enough.” She said patting you on the shoulder.

“So, Fred and George were telling me that they plan on saving up to get a flat in town to be closer to the store. Seems like you will have some extra room around here.”

“Yeah, its just Ron and Ginny left, the boys will have to start giving me grandchildren soon so we can fill the rooms back up.”

Fred over hearing, choked on his water still sitting at the table. “Mom!”

“Oh, you know I meant Bill, Charlie, or Percy, don’t go alerting the daily prophet that I have gone mad.”

You chuckled, returning your hands to the hot soapy water. “You know Molly, I have just about finished here, I can take care of the rest.”

“Don’t tell me I have scared you off now too.” She chuckled tossing her towel onto the counter.

“You could never, and you know that.” You bumped her arm with your own. “Plus, that gives me the chance to teach Fred how to properly dry dishes.”

“I should have just stayed quiet.” He said, standing from the table.

“Good luck you two!” Molly shouted as she left the kitchen.

Fred kissed your cheek, picking the towel up off the counter. “You’re lucky you are so damn cute, or you would be on your own here.”

“Well, when you have a place of your own, you will have to know how to do this.”

“Always thinking of my wellbeing, aren’t you?”

“You know that I am.” You handed him the next plate.

“Have you thought any more of our offer?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Well now, this I have to hear.” George stated, walking up behind you, resting his back against the counter.

“I don’t think that I am ready to move out of my parents house just yet.”

“You are at least taking a key to our flat then.” George said.

“Until you’re ready to join us that is.” They both said in unison.

“I mean if I absolutely must, I guess I could accept it. I can add it to my collection of boyfriends keys.” You shrugged playfully.

Fred leaned forward making eye contact with George, “Oh, so she thinks she’s funny?”

“I know I’m funny.”

Before you knew what was happening, the boys had started tickling your sides, causing you to drop the silverware back into the sink.

“No! Stop it!” You laughed, trying to squirm away from their grasps.

“Not until you admit you want a key to our flat!” Fred stated.

“Never! I will never admit it!”

The boys only started tickling you faster, causing you to nearly fall. Both sets of hands catching you, but not pausing their attack on your sides.

“Fine! I give! I want the key!” Finally releasing you from their grip, you fought to catch your breath. “You two are relentless.”

“You have no idea.” They said together.

***

With the dishes completed, Fred had retreated to the living room with everyone else, leaving you in the kitchen with George. It was rare that you were able to have much time alone with him, you were always grateful for time just the two of you.

“I was wondering about something.” He said inching his way closer to you.

“What’s that Georgie?” You turned your body to face him, looking up at him.

“There is a really good storm coming tonight, and you see, there is this hill on the property that is perfect to watch them roll in.” You could tell he was nervous; you closed the space between you resting your hand on his chest, you could feel how his heart racing.

“Is there a question in there for me?”

“Would you like to go with me to watch it tonight?”

“Just the two of us?”

“If that would be okay with you. If it would make you more comfortable we could also invite Fr-“

“I would love to go just the two of us Georgie.”

He smiled down at you, feeling relieved. “You sure?”

“Of course I am sure.” You pushed up on your tiptoes kissing his cheek. You pulled back only to have Georges hands catch the sides of your face kissing you softly.

***

George led you through the property, holding your hand. You climbed up to the top of the hill, overlooking the burrow and the surrounding area. You couldn’t believe how far into the distance you could see in every direction. Throwing a blanket over the grass, George set up a small sitting area for the two of you. He pointed to your left, “the storm will be coming from that direction.”

“How will we know when its too close and we have to go back?”

“Once the tip of the clouds is above that tree line there, we will have to start making our way to the house.”

Sitting on the center of the blanket, you extended your hand out to him inviting him to sit with you. He smiled, gladly accepting your offer, sitting behind you. “Thanks for taking me out here Georgie.”

“Thank you for coming with me. One of these days I will take you on a real first date.”

“You helped heal me after my attack, you saw me have a break down on my bedroom floor; I’m pretty sure we are passed first dates.”

“No, you deserve it. I know that our situation is not the usual circumstances, but I want to do this right, if you will let me that is.”

As if on que, you heard a quiet rumble of thunder in the distance, causing you both to look up. The sun had begun setting, turning the sky to a beautiful deep pink color, contrasting with the darkness that had starting to creep its way in; lightning sparkled across the large clouds.

“I have never seen something so beautiful before.” You spoke.

“Neither have I.” George stated, watching you intently.

You leaned further back, resting on his chest, his arms wrapping around you, resting his cheek on the top of your head. You both watched as the storm slowly made its way closer, admiring the show of lightning, electricity running through the air around you.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He spoke softly in your ear.

You turned your head, positioning yourself so he could lean down and capture your lips with his. Once again, his hand finding the side of your face, holding you close. A smile formed on his lips as you melted into him. He moved his hand from your face, tangling it in your hair, giving it a gentle tug. A small moan left your lips at the change of his assertiveness. Pulling away, you sat up, a look of concern flashed in his eyes, scared that he had gone too far.

Before he could ask anything, you quickly crawled into his lap, straddling him. You grabbed the collar of his shirt pulling him back in for more. He crashed his lips into yours with much more aggression than before. Georges hands found your hips pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss. Goosebumps covered your skin as he let out a deep groan. His teeth found your bottom lip biting it gently, quick to run his tongue over it to soothe the sting. Feeling like complete putty in his hands, you rocked your hips forwards against his instinctually. You were so caught up in each other you could barely hear the thunder growing louder in the background.

Suddenly, you felt rain drops hitting your skin, stopping you both. Looking up, you saw that the storm had rolled completely over the two of you. The rain that had started as a light drizzle, began pouring down on the top of you. You both stood quickly, forgetting the blanket on the grass, running down the hill hand in hand.

Once you had reached the burrow, the two of you were completely soaked. Crashing through the front door, you both slipped, falling onto the wood floor. Both of you burst out laughing, the loud commotion catching Molly’s attention.

“Now look at this mess! Mud all over my clean floor!” She motioned around you, then placed her hands on her hips, giving you a look only Molly Weasley could.

Both attempting to stifle your laughter, “Sorry mom, we will clean it up.”

“Sorry Molly.”

“I fear my sons have been a bad influence on you.”

***

You were in the boys’ new apartment, helping unpack boxes. With the help of the rest of the Weasley clan, Hermione and Harry, you were all moving at a rapid pace of assisting the twins to settle into their new home. It was a quaint three bedroom, a room for each of them, and an office they planned on using as a workshop; within a ten-minute walk from the store. Not a day had gone by that they did not ask you to move in with them, offering to let you have the third bedroom if you wanted. You were so proud of them for finding their independence.

You had yet to find the time to go on your first solo date with George, all of you focused on the store and helping them move. You helped them collect different things for the apartment, such as dishes and throw pillows. All of it feeling oddly domestic between the three of you.

“Well, if you are so dead set on not moving in with my brothers here, would you at least think of taking over their room back at the burrow? For the first time in my life, we could outnumber the boys.” Ginny joked.

“I think I have spent enough time in their bedroom Gin.”

She fake gagged, “ugh gross, point taken, spare me the details I beg of you.”

“Don’t worry though, I will still have lots of time for you.”

“Just make sure to take a shower first.”

[grogusmum]

APRIL: Budding Moon

SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER

WORD COUNT: 800ish

RATED: T

SUMMARY: Ezra tells his precious pearl about his first love, a young sailor. This takes place after part 5 series masterlist

WARNING: EXCESSIVE USE OF NICKNAMES Selkie Ezra can't be stopped, he is a menace to my heart. mentions of pregnancy. That's about it.

A/N: Here is the April installment of The Wheel of the Year, my theme for @yearofcreation2023, in May, many apologies! May's installment will be posted before the month is out.

Organized by the effervescent @oonajaeadira and @writeforfandoms According to some European folklore, April’s full moon is a time of transformation and metamorphosis. It is said that during this time, witches and other magical creatures were able to shape-shift and take on new forms. Well, I couldn't resist playing in that sandbox!

Gaelic translations

Mo stór - my treasure

Mo stóirín - my little treasure

Mo fhíorghrá – my true love

Mo ghrá – my love

Mo mhuirnín dílis - “my own true love” or “my faithful darling

“Tell me of your first love, Ezra.”

“So young were we, my moonbeam. I was seven years in my seal coat, and he was so beautiful, a sailor… our time together was short but full.”

“Will you tell me?” You snuggle beside Ezra in your soft bed, your new home on Roan Inish, like a cocoon.

Yes, you have visits from family and you love nothing more than your time with Cee, but there are days on end where it is just the two of you, growing closer as new life grows within your belly.

“It is an age-old tale, mo stór (mu store), saved him from drowning, his boat tossed by the sea, caught in a storm to beat all. When I got him on land, I could not leave him. I took off my pelt for the first time since my transformation. It didn hurt. It never hurts, but I was quite overwhelmed. I hollered and near cried at the sight of my human form. I was just a boy, barely 14 when I was changed and then I was suddenly a man. The seal pays much less mind of such things, my Pearl.”

"My own? How did-" Confusion etches your features, "the tears? He didn't call you."

"So young and impetuous! Offered one transformation without tears. Used it up first chance I got. I wonder how things might have been different if I had waited..."

You look at one another, mapping what could have been-

"What was he called?"

“Angus," Ezra smiles fondly.

You hummed your approval-

"A handsome sailor named Angus? Didn't stand a chance. I would have taken my pelt off too."

"Not a ghost of a chance!" Ezra chuckles, kissing your forehead, pleased you understand. "Well, this fine sailor lay prone in the sand while I had myself a right fit, and when I tired myself out, I laid myself right down next to him and fell asleep. When I woke, he had covered my vulnerable person in his peacoat. But he was gone. My pelt safely tucked under me," Ezra pauses here to allow for the weight to settle.

"Good man," you nod.

"I soon found myself clothes to cover my wicked nakedness," Ezra cheekily nudges. "And went to return his coat. It took some time to find him. He was son of the lighthouse operator.”

“Did he know what you were? Did he know what you had done for him?”

“Slow down a tick, mo ghrá (mu graw) – It was not he who came to the door but his mother, I told her my intention to return his coat. Now then, as much as today, a young man calling on another with smitten eyes is sorely frowned upon, to say the least. And I don know if you have noticed this about me, Moonbeam, but I have great difficulty keeping my feelings under wraps.”

Ezrs noses your cheek with a smile. You curve further into him, hooking a leg around his and scoff lovingly-

“You?”

“Hard to believe, I know. She saw right through me, like I was made of onion skin. Ran me off. But my sailor saw the exchange from his window and found me later.”

“He didn’t”

“He did.”

“Did he love you as quickly as I loved you?”

Ezra looks at you with hesitation.

“When did you know you loved him?”

“Moonbeam.”

“It’s alright, I want to know. I know you have a big heart, and that you have loved others as much as you love me.”

Ezra gently takes your chin between his thumb and first finger, leveling your eyes with his.

“I have loved. Tis true, but my shining pearl, I have loved none as I love you.”

“Not even your beautiful sailor, Angus?”

“He was close, I dare not deny it. He was a close second. He took me to a boat house to talk. Yes, he knew what I was the moment he saw me on the beach. And twas I who pulled him from Lir’s fathoms. He kissed me in thanks. And I dare say to stop was an arduous task, once we started. We continued to meet surreptitiously.”

“Is it the same, loving a man? As loving a woman?”

“Love is love, of course, mo stóirín (mu storeen). But if I were to consider it the same, I would be guilty of being woefully inattentive to so many wonderments. Though putting a finger on it is no easy thing. There is a particular beauty and energy that men display and the same for women, and of course, there are those that defy those expectations and, well, that is just thrilling…”

“Our feelings grew, we would steal away, charting one anothers vestiges, discovering the bliss each location had to offer," Ezra runs his deft fingers along the dips and swells of your body, eyes on yours, searching for any sign discomfort in hearing about his past lover. He finds only interest and warmth and rubs his cheek on yours. Suddenly, his eyes turn sad-

"By and by, it became difficult for him to explain his disappearances. And of course a sailor must return to the sea.”

“So must a selkie,” your voice is smaller than you intended.

"Mo mhuirnín dílis (mu voor-neen deelish) I will convince you yet..."

Ezra wraps around you, pulling you impossibly close, filling in any space between you. The firelight flickering in his soft eyes. "There is no power that could pull us asunder, save were you ever to wish it."

You lay there quietly, fingers skating his cheek, chin, his brow, the slope of his nose.

"Never, Mo fhíorghrá (moh hear-graw), never, I sooner turn selkie myself."

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚

For more selkie Ezra or any of my writing, you can find my masterlist here, and if you care to be tagged for future fics, follow this link to my handy dandy taglist form!

[nostalgiaclown]

So the issue with creating my Rook/Veilguard OCs so ahead of release time is the backstories they have given us are too specific... I have already crafted my possible Rooks and their backstories- anyway, here's Holly Monet 🦋✨️

Lore dump below...🦋🫶

She's an alchemist, in her late 30s, who was born in Orlais.

Black hair and bright blue eyes (she has her mothers eyes), prominent dark circles. Olive tone skin(?), lot's of beauty marks. Petite frame, short.

Blue moth/butterfly as her character motif. This theme will be prominent in her armour/outfit design.

Her mother (Edith Monet) was Orlesian, and her father (Marcus) Nevarran.

She moved back to Nevarra with her Papa when her Maman passed away from a rare terminal illness.

She learnt alchemy from her mom. She became highly skilled in her craft, able to cultivate and gather ingredients to make an aray of tonics, toxins, poisons, and explosives. She continued her mothers work (trying to make a cure for the same sickness that took her life, yaay), so that she lives on in their hearts and memories. (Poor Papa was not okay tm).

She's a Rogue(?) Mainly using deadly poison coated daggers and throw this vial at the enemy and see what happens style.

Holly never fully processed her grief, too focused on making sure her Papa was okay.

Holly has unrealistic expectations for what love should feel like. She's never felt it before (she came close once), not in the way her father describes it. (Girl, watch out that old man gonna make you feel so loved)

She ended up (kind of) joining the Mourn Watch after she sent a letter in, requesting to join on one of the excursions deep into the Necropolis, particularly interested in the flora and fauna she would be able to acquire and study down there (idk man I've not looked into any lore accuracies yet, I'm just having fun).

Emmrich took an interest in her work, passion clearly coming through in her writing, and agreed to let her come along despite his peers' protests. They made for quick friends, the chemistry between them apparent. (You know when u meet ur soulmate, yeah)

She then stayed within the Necropolis after that and helped with the preservation and organisation of the dead.

She would then occasionally be assigned to other expeditions with him, both finding different excuses to see each other while working within the Necropolis. (TeeHee)

Fun bits:

She has a stuffed rabbit simply called 'petit lapin' she has trouble sleeping without.

She likes to climb up high on things, like a cat, then she can't get down.

---

So, this is my little world where my 'canon' Rook is going to be her Cousin, Robert - he would be the one to drag her along into staying at the lighthouse, aiding them with her tonics and the like.

I'll no doubt switch it up when the game comes out but, I always end up making NPC OCs rather than main characters, oops.

I'll make more posts talking more abt Holly's parents and her Cousin.

Oh and... Claude Delecroix, he's fun 💕

[kiwibirdlafayette]

wherever I go, there you are.

a little syndisparklez freewrite oneshot, takes place in the earlier half of Isles/where I've watched up to and a follows this drawing

enjoy :] Havent written fic in a while, but i needed a change of pace from arting for a little

“I just want you to be happy.”

The waves lapped up against the shore of the lighthouse atop Tom’s island, a soft and steady rhythm alike to the delicate tap of drumsticks against cymbals. Contrary to what they had thought would happen, the god’s arrivals had brought with them an almost uncharacteristic silence about the land- the kind of one that might force people to face truths and emotions that had long been left unaddressed since they had arrived on the island.

Tom looked up to the soft oranges, pinks and blues of the setting sun, running his hand through his dark amber blonde hair. He had burnt it to that color from its typical blue before coming into the past- a practice reminiscent of the way it had been when Dianite was around and would use it as a cruel indication of how it was, perhaps a punishment meant to remind him of a state which he had not been in since he was human.

A state where according to all he had known until recently, he had not been anyone.

Tom bit his lip. “What do you mean by that?"

He turned to the man sitting up on the rock beside the staircase he sat on. Tired and worn dull purple eyes he had gotten lost in more times than he could count, scraggly black hair that always felt soft between his fingertips, wearing a velvet red coat no longer imbued with its blood magic sigils that he loved to run his hands across to feel its power, to pull off and-

Tom stopped himself. It was all too easy sometimes.

Jordan sighed, turning his gaze down to the weathered stone. “I want you to be happy in some way or another, I mean, there’s not much else to it."

Happiness.

The last day they had seen each other before Tom had left back to Astrakheins for them to take a break from each other, Tom had said he wasn’t happy where he was. And Jordan had agreed. And so they left.

After falling through the void, they had, to Tom’s initial surmise, landed back in their first realm. A familiar place, having a nostalgia that both welcomed you with open arms, but exposed scars of battles fought long ago.

Back to the first place he had called home post-revival, back to the land of finding his friendships, back to the world where had left behind the corpse of the god that had saved him in the first place.

To Jordan it was home, but to Tom it was just a cruel reminder of what had been. His heart was his home, he carried that with him. He had tried so long to be the Dianite the realm needed him to be. But he knew it wasn’t where he belonged. It wasn't a place he could settle down for good

And maybe it just wasn’t the right time.

Tom fiddled with the epaulets on his shoulders. “But I am happy.. Now! Like, I get to hang with you and Kyle, and sure my gods not perfect, but-”

Jordan scoffed watching Tom count off things on his fingers. "You and I both know that's not what I’m talking about.”

“It’s not?”

For the first time in this particular conversation, Jordan looked up and stared Tom down dead in the eyes. While the outward expression spoke irritation over him not getting what he was trying to imply, there was a violent yearning behind it, something so familiar of what Jordan had always been like. Possessing a kind of reaching, grasping for any semblance of what he sought since he had come to the island. Yet at the same time, still avoiding closeness the best he could, always in a state of pretending to be absolutely annoyed and perturbed by the zombie’s presence.

And Tom would have believed that they through for good if he hadn’t been able to recognize that, even way before Jordan had come over to his house in the dead of night to confess in a sleep deprived stupor that he had missing Tom all this time, and that he was tired of dancing around what had been, and what he so desperately wants back, but feels like can’t because it isn’t what Tom wants.

Selfish, was the word he had used. Him wanting to be with, to have Tom was selfish of him.

Unfortunately, Tom hadn’t gotten a chance to clarify himself. Maybe now was meant to be his chance.

He watched Jordan continue to fidget with the collar of his shirt, and run his hand around his neck, just like he had the first time Capsize had suggested they had a thing for each other. Nothing like a habit you can’t quit, clearly.

Jordan’s nervousness came through in the strained tone of his voice as he spoke undeniably what it was he was dancing around this whole time. “I want you to be happy.. with me, ok? It’s like I've said before, it’s selfish because I don’t know if you can be.”

“Jordan-” Tom stood, climbing up the side of the rock to put himself right next to Jordan, who swung his legs around as if he was ready to jump off the weathered stones that made up the base of the lighthouse, and run away from an answer he might not like.

Tom wouldn’t let him. He reached out to grab the captain’s hand, who swatted it away.

“You deserve someone who can make you feel unconditionally loved, Tom.” He curled his hand into a loose fist. “Especially after all you’ve.. maybe we've been through and.. I don’t know if I can be that for you anymore."

If Tom hadn’t known any better he’d think Jordan had found someone else and this was his last attempt at making their temporary separation a permanent one. But the desperation in his voice was so strong to Tom it was almost like he was waiting for him to just kiss him again right then and there.

Jordan paused to look at Tom before turning his back to him. “I know there’s so much more out there for you, but I don’t want to accept it. I want to keep fighting for you, to be the light that brings you to a place that makes you happy, safe, and feel home.”

Tom watched as Jordan’s gaze rose past him to take in the sight of the completed lighthouse to the light at the precipice, the part he had owned after Tom had begged him to build it for him.

He had the light, Tom had the house.

Much to Tom’s surprise, when he tried to reach for Jordan, this time he didn’t lean away. He let the zombie rest his hand softly on his shoulder, almost leaning into the touch.

Jordan spoke under his breath, as if he was scared of what he had wanted to admit. “Thing is, I want to try. I so desperately want to try to be that.” His hand floated down from his neck to his other shoulder. “I don’t want to just leave what we had all behind because… fucking shit, you mean more to me than you’ll ever know. And I don’t know if you’ll ever get it.”

“No man, see I don’t think you get it.” Tom took the hand that had come to meet his on Jordan’s shoulder. No matter how many times it had fallen apart or tore at the seams they always seemed to fit perfectly together. Aside from the soft song of the sea breeze, and the mechanical clink of the rotating light of the house coming to life in the fading sun as evening arrived, there was a silence that if the gods had listened closely, they could hear perhaps a reawakened spark, a newfound life in the forces of chaos and balance within their champions that had been long since ignored.

“Y’know if you weren’t always so dramatic, and just given me the chance to yknow, answer you that night I could’ve told you.” Tom met Jordan’s eyes with a soft smile. “There’s nothing else I need to feel loved or whatever-"

He let himself drift closer to Jordan, who for once welcomed the closeness with an openness he hadn’t possessed in a while. “I already am happy with you.”

[egglantine23]

All right reading Percy Jackson now got through the first series now on to heroes of Olympus but I wanted to share a little bit of an idea that I thought would be cute so I know at the end of the series when Percy's all like pay your child support Poseidon does say that Percy is his only kid. However at a cute little OC idea. And it will keep this whole Poseidon thinks that Percy's is only kid. I have named her Molly she's a selkie from Ireland. Grandma is also a selfie and her Grandpa is a lighthouse keeper along with her mom. She lives with her grandma grandpa and Mom, the reason why Poseidon didn't bring her up is because at like 2 months old she technically dies and her grandma goes to the Irish sea god(can't spell his name don't want to look it up) and begs him to turn her into a selkie like her. He does and molly gets another chance at life. I kind of want the Celtic gods to be very different to the Norse and Greek gods and how we see them act especially since we know in Canon that a lot of the Celtic gods have faded. Sort of like they cling to each other quite a bit maybe they're a lot nicer to their children and actually raise them because they've lost a lot of people in their life that they thought would last forever. AKA family is very important. Maybe for one reason or another a Celtic god needs something done because they're super busy and helps the foreign demigods get to Camp Half-Blood safely in return along with some gold. But I would find funny is that maybe Percy Grover and annabeth wash up on the shores of Ireland right next to her family's lighthouse and Percy wakes up to this 10-year-old little girl with big black eyes and dark black hair wearing a white sealskin coat and bright yellow rain boots. And just freaking out when she smiles and he sees shark teeth. Now little Molly wouldn't get the same powers that her big brother has, she's a selkie and get some more minor version of a shapeshifting power like she's not good at it and really can only turn her teeth the shark teeth. She's kind of a quiet kid and she doesn't actually speak but she is also a seal so she's kind of like a little wild animal. Like when they brought her back to Camp Half-Blood one of the Hermes kids around her age decided to prank her and she played dead and it freaked them out. Her favorite food is eels for some reason and she doesn't like using silverware she'll use it but she prefers just to eat things with her mouth and hands. She's kind of a creepy child but after a while you just start to love her. She's a lot like deep sea creatures I have a feeling that Percy is more of the water itself and not be what actually is inside the ocean while she would be more like what's inside the ocean especially in the midnight zone. All right now I'm going to put it into a list of fun little head cannons about her.

So walk up to Percy at random occasions holding a muscle or a clam just eating it Percy does not know where she gets them

Percy doesn't know that she is a selkie or that she can turn into a seal for the first few months he knows her

She shows affection by biting people not too hard and never with the shark teeth just a little nibble

If she ever gets scared or back into a corner like when she first stopped her first monster she immediately goes to bite them with the shark teeth

She has tried on multiple occasions to eat Chiron

Because of this Dionysus finds her entertaining

She doesn't really make a lot of friends with the other half bloods at camp but those water ladies love her

She doesn't like capture the flag at all she finds it too loud too crazy and too scary she much prefer to sit on the sidelines and watch

To allow her to live on land and last more than a day she changes her coat into a necklace when she opens the little locket on the necklace it turns into the coat she can't speak if the coat is a necklace but even with her coat she doesn't talk much

She tends to daydream a lot so she ends up staring at a lot of people it's very creepy

One time she got Percy to give her a ride on his shoulders when they were going to dinner and she grabbed a bird out of the air

The first time she met her dad was when Percy brought her down to Poseidon's Castle or whatever to meet Tyson and there stepmom, she thought Triton was a eel and tried to eat him

Before Percy knew that she was a selkie he would visit the random seal that was sunbathing by the camp and just complain about things because the seal was a great listener and didn't speak for some reason

And she's a seal she's like a double goofball like going on her back getting random people to carry her not a lot of people know she can turn into a seal and she takes full advantage of that

[talubld-archive]

that was a face he didn’t think he’d ever see again. in all honesty, he was hoping he wouldn’t see mattéo again, if only because colress was ASHAMED of what he’d done to him. he’d taken advantage of a brainwashed man’s trust, and used him, like he was some TOOL rather than a living, breathing person. he had stooped to ghetsis’s level in doing so, and it disgusted colress.

so he was very surprised to have so casually walked past the all-too-familiar redhead while on his way to a lovely kantonian restaurant in konikoni city.

his magneton gave away his attempt to walk past without a word, having recognized mattéo. the magnet pokémon’s entire body (or, multiple bodies, as it was technically a trio of pokémon) jolted and vibrated with excitement as it whirred and vocalized its happiness upon reuniting with a human that it recognized aside from its own trainer—a human it remembered quite fondly! it was quick to maneuver towards mattéo, continuing to vocalize while colress remained still, facing away from his old test subject, silently determining what move he’d ought to make next.

when he’d made his decision, he sighed and turned around, putting up the facade of not having recognized mattéo, and calling out to his pokémon, ❝ magneton! what are you doing? we have discussed this—you can’t just approach any random human when you sense that they have some strong power source on them! especially when they might not have anything of interest to you at all! ❞

RANDOM ASKS.   /   @aachromaa.

it had been... a while. a while since mattéo’s had any thoughts about home, about its trainers, about what happened. in fact communication with anyone from unova had been minimal; news outlets were blacklisted, radio purposefully tampered with to skip past specific wavelengths, people mostly forgotten. take a break from it all, that's what his therapist had suggested, a holiday of sorts, have a gap year or two between studying, submit while traversing the world - something to get him seeing the beauty of nature and make new memories beyond what he already had.

the one person he kept in contact with ---- or rather, someone other than doctor illda  ----  was that one teacher. cheren. who helped him escape, gave him shelter, allowed him to take a brand new path with someone to take him through it. but even his messages were left on read for sometime.

the  view  from  the  lighthouse  would  look  better  when  the  sun  sets.  i  could  come  back  later.  umbreon  did  enjoy  those  views.   he’s thinking to himself, caught stuck on the pavement as people rush on by without further glances. it was... nice. the rush wasn’t nearly as suffocating as nimbasa’s rush but the constant stream of people meant little time to focus more on himself. he’d been pretty far into debating his next steps to realise the yelling of a pokémon until it was close up to his face --- STARTLED, a step back is taken with a hand readying itself ‘pon a ball attached to leather belt - except this one seemed friendly. very friendly. excited almost? curious head tilts, body relaxing for just a few seconds, expressions mirrored and taught by all the pokémon he’d been brought up with.

he’s about to greet the floating steel orbs when a familiar voice grabs his attention. curious gaze focuses onto the being walking into view. while the outfit was different - subtle greys and a coat completely covering most their body - one thing stood out. the undeniable asset of a scientist mostly forced into the backroom of thoughts and memories, now clear as the blue skies, was the blue swirl of hair contrasting to the blonde. 

“  ...  colress...?  ”   but what was he doing here? and h---- how, why? it seemed there was no recognition from the scientist himself and oh - oh that stung a small bit. a neutral party at least, mattéo had always recognised what he later discovered was a soft spot for the other after reliving moments over and over where grunts, others in charge, treated him like garbage, like an unholy creation - he never got that from colress. pleasant, maybe with ulterior motives, but at the time that didn’t matter. he had expected ulterior motives - but he always carried some kind of kindness and pleasantries. it made mattéo feel as if he was useful, that he belonged, and wasn’t some mere murderous creature.

maybe he shouldn’t have thought that. evidence... presenting itself now suggests that matty was correct about his feelings. unimportant and forgettable. shaking his head, he returns focus to the magneton still buzzing excitedly within his presence. even if humans forgot, at least pokémon wouldn’t. at least there was some mutual understanding between them.   

“  hello  magneton,  it  is  good  to  see  you.  your  metal  coat  is  looking  very  nice!  ”   genuine smile tugs, it stretches to his eyes; a feature he’s only been able to accomplish since leaving unova. one that his team had blessed upon him.   “  i  do  not  have  any  treats  for  you,  but  you  can  have  some  of  the  electric  from  my  power  bank  if  you  want!  even  if  i  am  just  a  random  human.  ”  

[mi4012dilumwarakagoda]

The Script I Made for the Shutter Island Acting Assignment

(The Scene sets in a lighthouse with raging tides pushing against its rocky shoreline. The Storm was on its way, and inside the lighthouse, inside a room, sitting at a table was a middle-aged man, smiling at the three-armed guards watching him.) 

Teddy: Hola (Teddy continued smoking his cigar, waiting for the interrogation to start) 

(Meanwhile, down at the bottom first steps of the lighthouse, stood a man in uniform along with a doctor shivering in his coat) 

Ethan: You alright, doc? 

Dr. Cawley: Barely... I don’t know if I could survive this bloody stormy night... (His teeth chattering) And, oh goodness, here he comes. 

(Dr. Sheehan approached them, drenched in sea water) 

Dr. Sheehan: Detective, here it is. All the reports and charges following up on our dear patient- 

Ethan: Prisoner, Doc, not a patient. You don’t put your patients in chains, do yah? 

Dr. Sheehan: Well, with this one we had to consider it. And how is he, anyway? 

Dr. Cawley: Giving an uneasy vibe as always. Please do come, before you must carry my frosted corpse. 

(All three of them made their way up the stair and along the way,) 

Dr. Sheehan: Are you sure this is your man, Detective, if I may so inclined to ask? 

Ethan: A maniac comes into a home, beat up the family, then drown them in their own bath tub and then arrange them as if they are having a wonderful tea party. Then leaves without a trace. Does that sound familiar to you, doc? 

Dr. Cawley: Yes, but he’s been here for the last two years. He doesn’t leave his cell without anyone’s supervision, the guards here are vigilant and, on their toes when they’re around him, and that’s not all, the security on Shutter Island is one of the best in the entire world. There is no humanly possible way for him to escape. 

Ethan: I know, doc. My guess is a copycat, and this man in that room might know who it is. There must be some small chance that he might. There’s gotta... 

(They finally made it to the room, where the three guards greeted them. And in the middle of this room, sitting at a table, chained to the concrete floor was Teddy Daniels smoking his cigar with a menacing smile on his face. The detective came closer while the doctors remained their distance.) 

Ethan: So, uh, Mr. Daniels... 

Teddy: Oh, Teddy is just fine. Why don’t you grab a seat, while we can have this little chat? 

Ethan: Oh no, Mr- Teddy, I’ll do just fine standing.  

Teddy: Suit yourself... 

Ethan: Now, I understand that you had a- uh- tragic incident at your house, two years ago. Care to remind me all the details? 

(The two doctors looked uneasy and looked at each other. Teddy made his smile wider, showing his surprisingly white teeth shine in the light.) 

Teddy: Alright, I’ll enlighten you... So, one day after a day full of work, I come home, ready to embrace the love of my family. The moment I got in, I killed them, and made a fine art. I arranged them like dolls for the best tea party I’ve ever had but blood for tea and hearts for biscuits. (Teddy leaned forward) And you know the best part? They were quiet.  

(Ethan smiled back) 

Ethan: Yeah, yeah, and I can tell you had fun... What about the other murders? 

Teddy: A man is always born with a hunger, detective, a hunger for a certain thing. Those others just happen to be in my range. And I had a hunger for the pleasure of tearing one’s heart out again.  

Ethan: Yeah, and you satisfied that hunger or could you go for more? 

Teddy: I had enough of my share of it, but thank you. But let’s talk about what you’re really here for. 

Ethan: Alright, alright... I don’t know if you do, but you heard anything? 

Teddy: If this is about a peculiar serial killer, then yes. Although I would like to think of him as an artist, following his predecessor's footsteps. 

Ethan: Then you do know him... 

(Teddy took a long breath and gave a long sigh) 

Teddy: Let me tell you something, detective, the world is weak, soft, and yet the society is as cruel as God. They blame people like us but they never get the full picture or the full scope of the art we do. You should see the people I live here with: they’re like broken records, skipping endlessly until the very last second of their life. Who do you think reached out and scratched that record? 

Ethan: So, you’re blaming society. Come up with something original here, Teddy. The world is cruel: I get that- 

Teddy: Oh, you do understand, detective. No question about that. I knew the type of person you are, the moment you walked in. To people outside of this room, what I did deemed immoral. But for people like us, it’s art. Why do you think that the world thinks that serial killers are ‘cool’? Because we are the type of people who have broken out of our cowardly shells and show our true colors. We are not afraid anymore, detective, we are ready to face the terrors that the night will offer. 

Ethan: Wow, wonderful speech, Hermano. (Ethan started clapping his hands sarcastically, and stopped after a brief moment) But what does all this have to do with our copycat, Teddy? 

Teddy: Consider and take what I said as a lesson of free education, and- Oh god, forgive me, I do not know your name detective... 

Ethan: Ethan... Ethan Winters. 

Teddy: Ahh, Ethan Winters. Beautiful name. You know, my first-born son was also Ethan. 

Ethan: Hmm, touching- The same one you also killed, right?..  

Teddy: Did I offended you in anyway? Sorry, it’s just that I still remember those frightful eyes my son had,.. when I killed his sister. What a sight? (Teddy’s smile never did fade) Kids, am I right?  

(Ethan looked at the two doctors, still standing at a distance. Ethan nodded and the doctors quickly understood. Dr. Sheehan whispered something into one of the guards’ ears and the guard disappeared and after a moment, two nurses came with a plastic bag, tagged ‘Evidence #23’. The nurse gave the bag to the detective and left, while one of them stayed to witness the interrogation.) 

Ethan: You know what this is? (Ethan turned to Teddy) 

Teddy: I might have an idea. 

(Ethan reached into the bag slowly, keeping his eyes on Teddy. He removed a Saint-Gaudens Double Eagle coin and then put it on the table within Teddy’s reach. Teddy reached out and, in his palm, he analyzed it, curious and not smiling any longer. Then his eyes met Ethan’s, then resumed his smile.) 

Teddy: This is a Saint-Gaudens Double Eagle coin. They stopped making these in 1933. You definitely knew I gave one to my son. This isn’t the same coin though. My son’s had two large scratches across its surface. And this one here, it’s stained in blood. Did you know this is one of the rarest coins. I found my son’s one during my time in cold war on a dead man’s hanging corpse.  

Ethan: That peculiar copycat of yours, Teddy, left this on one of his victims’ eyes like the ancient Greeks did. I knew the message immediately, since I’ve read your files: You shoved yours into your own son’s eyes... He really does admire yah... And knows awful a lot of yah.  

Teddy: Yeah, he does. 

Ethan: So, do you know the bastard, or are you just wasting my time? 

(Teddy stared at the ceiling, thinking) 

Teddy: No, Mr. Winters, no. I am simply taking my time in knowing you. And I might say I am impressed. 

(Ethan looked confused for a while but continued ignoring what he just said) 

Teddy: Mr. Winter, what- I dare say- would you feel when you kill a certain person, with fear and terror in their eyes? 

Ethan: I am nothing like that- I am nothing like you. (Ethan was frustrated, offended) Even if I did anything like that, I would turn myself in- 

Teddy: But, would you though? Don’t you know the pleasure of taking one’s life? You and I are the same. Both of us are violent people. I was trained and send to war, while you’re trained and sent to hunt down maniacs haunting the streets at the night.  

Ethan: What do you mean? Huh? What do you mean by that?  

Teddy: People always pretend, they always do. But you can stop pretending, Mr. Winters.  

(Ethan was on edge. He turned to the others who were keeping their distance. Then he turned to Teddy once more.) 

Ethan: What? You saying I killed those people? 

Teddy: You don’t do well in hiding it... Out of everyone here, you are different. I can see it in you, Mr. Winters. It’s like staring at a mirror. 

(Ethan smiled) 

Ethan: I suppose it is, huh. 

(The two doctors signaled the guards, scared and on edge) 

Dr. Cawley: Get the back up now! 

Teddy: So tell me: How does it feel, Mr. Winters? How does it feel to take one’s life mercilessly?  

(Ethan gave a menacing smile) 

Ethan: It feels like hunting a delicate deer, but way more fun and bloodier. 

Teddy: It is, isn’t it? And I suspect that you’re gonna kill me. But I want you to know: It feels nice to meet a person who appreciates my artwork. 

Ethan: Nothing personal...Teddy. 

(The lights turned off, before the sound of slashing and blood splattering was heard from the room.) 

(Now few days later, in Dr. Cawley’s office, Dr Sheehan comes in with a file,) 

Dr. Sheehan: I have finally done the paper work, John. 

Dr. Cawley: Good, with Daniels dead, we can just give his old cell to our dear Mr. Winters.  

Dr. Sheehan: So, uh, listen to this, John: Ethan was assigned to a case, few months back. He was never the same after that. According to some ongoing investigations...he was accused of killing more than 1 100 people. They suspected that he found files on Teddy Daniels and considered followed his methods.  

Dr. Cawley: All good men fall, I guess. But why coming all the way here, only to end up imprisoned? 

Dr. Sheehan: Minds of such ill men are mysterious, John. Best not to question them. 

(Dr. Sheehan passes the file to Dr. Cawley, and then he stores it among the 1000 files he had in his tall file cabinet.) 

THE END 

[dragon-heisters]

Session 24, 4 Feb 2023

I’m late this week, due to pizza. Pfenig has watched Wakanda forever; Nuri immediately tells him “no spoilers!” He has already had Thor: Love and Thunder spoiled for him at work. “No spoilers!” I tell him.

BWJ has got big people clothes now, and a big people beanbag; Pfenig doesn’t like it. Right, to the dirty prostitute ward? We should clean this place up. Unionise them. Council tax, that sort of thing. We are presented with a reference image:

Good grief.

We are looking for two drow; it’s been about half an hour since we lost them, but were able to follow them with Thessalie’s Horn Marker spell. Nuri picks up Pfenig and pets him like a Bond villain; Pfenig immediately starts yowling. He hisses for a bit, then falls asleep. Nuri carries him around like a baby.

We haven’t heard the Horn Marker for a while; we make Perception checks. We think they might be near the lighthouse, so right near the coast. Nuri approaches a... gentleman of the night, as Thessalie storms ahead.

“Excuse me… Sir?” he tries.

“What services can I provide?”

“I’m just seeking information,” he stammers, and asks about the drow. How much is the information worth to him, the prostitute wants to know. Nuri will reimburse him with one gold. He hands one over.

“I ain’t seen nothing,” the prostitute tells him, pocketing the gold. Of course.

“Can I talk to this lady,” Hazel wants to know.

“‘Lady’ is very generous of you,” the DM says. The ‘lady’ tells her to jog on, this spot is taken.

We’re just looking for some drow, Hazel says.

"What’s a drow?"

A dark elf.

"I might have. What’s it worth?"

“Me moving on. If there’s dark elves about doing nefarious things, you’re not going to get much business are you?”

The lady decides she will tell Hazel something for a copper. Hazel hands one over.

“So… dark elves? Grey skin?” she points toward the big beached pirate ship. The Kraken’s Folly. They were heading in the direction of the lighthouse.

Thessalie spots one of the drow, and quickly ducks back out of sight to tell the others. We decide to have cat-Pfenig and Hazel stealth ahead and cut off any escape that way, and Nuri and Thessalie will stay behind and cut off the retreat. We’ll trap them!

Could we pay a prostitute to distract them? Wave their genitals around? There’s one in an open yellow trench coat and matching codpiece. Nuri shoves Thessalie in his direction.

Thessalie calls the prostitute over. He starts listing prices but she interrupts him. “Don’t even speak to me, just take these five gold pieces and go and distract those dark elves over there.”

He does as he’s told and goes over to solicit them. Pfenig and Hazel make Perception and Stealth checks. They hear the drow trying to talk to each other - he got what was coming to him, the boss won’t be angry, that sort of thing - as they are swatting away the prostitute.

Hazel hides around the side of a little boat. Nuri and Thessalie discuss spell slots; Thessalie has one that she’s saving for something specific, Nuri has none. We should intimidate them, so they might give up the stone without a fight? Nuri has fire for hair, he should lead the charge.

Nuri approaches the drow. “Give up the stone and you can go free!” (But in his Batman voice.)

The prostitute takes that as his cue to leave, and the drow turn to Nuri. They look very pissed off to see him. They don’t want to hurt us; leave them alone! Nuri says we don’t want to hurt them. One holds up a bloody arm; could have fooled him.

Hazel fires a warning arrow past them. A 21; the feathers on the end of her arrow stroke one’s face as it whirls past. They look for the source but can only see that green cat. Did he fire the…?

They can’t give us the stone. They really don’t want to hurt anyone.

Who are they working for, Nuri asks. They say, the good of the city. Well, so are we! They keep looking around, and looking out to sea. They’re being very furtive. They warn Nuri that we might want to get out of here.

Pfenig un-cats, and holds out the fake Stone. Swapsies?

How would they feel about a team-up, Nuri asks, and makes a Persuasion check. 18. We’re hardly in any condition to fight, one says to the other in elvish. As they discuss, we hear a clanging noise and an enormous mechanical dragon turtle (WHAT, we all immediately demand) rises up out of the water. We roll initiative, as the drow make for the turtle.

One of the drow goes first, and leaps onto the dragon turtle. The other follows suit. Hazel shoots over the top of the boat she’s hiding behind, aiming for the mechanical turtle. She is close enough to see “Big Belchy” written in Common on the side of its shell. 22 hits, for 18 damage. She hides again.

Thessalie runs to the dock and casts Disarm on the white haired elf, hoping that he is the one holding the Stone; he fails his strength save and drops the stone which lands with a plop in the water. (I get inspiration!)

Nuri, having not seen what Thessalie did, casts Infestation on the same elf, shouting, “You should have made a deal with us!” The elf swats at the cloud of flies suddenly surrounding him and jumps back five feet - but stays on the back of Big Belchy. “Covered in bees!” Nuri shouts.

Pfenig leaps into the water to go after the stone. He has no wild shapes left so “I just use my regular big old dumb Pfenig shape”. The water is deep. The stone is wafting down at speed, so unfortunately his reflexes aren’t quite enough to just swipe it. He swims down. “I’m cold now.”

Big Belchy’s mouth opens - the drow start battering it. “No, don’t!” It belches a cloud of steam onto the pier. (Well that explains the name.) All of us but Pfenig make Dex saves. Nuri is fire resistant and Hazel makes her Dex save but Thessalie takes the full 22 damage and goes down. (Fortunately the damage is non-lethal.) Big Belchy then makes to leave, but isn’t going after the stone. (Pfenig gets temporarily swept up with the other tokens, and has to be put back.)

Big Belchy heads out into the harbour, taking the elves with it.

Pfenig reappears as Nuri and Hazel prop Thessalie up against a building. Thessalie has heard of Big Belchy. It was made by Lantonese (sp?) gnomes, and only they would know how to fix it. It sank in the harbour over a century ago.

We have a friend near here who has an Apparatus of Kwalish… Maybe she'd let us borrow it to look for the Stone? We go and look for Grinda. Thessalie and Pfenig can both cast Detect Magic as a ritual once we get down there.

“Ah, if it isn’t the treasure hunters!” Grinda says when she opens her door to us. She will lend us the Apparatus for free, since we were so polite and returned it last time in good condition. She suggests we take a short rest first, as we’re in a right state. Pfenig will cast Cure Wounds on Nuri and Hazel; he offers it to Thessalie but she’s alright, actually.

Grinda casts Water Breathing on all of us, as only two can fit inside the Apparatus. Pfenig and Thessalie swim alongside, and Nuri will drive.

We descend into the harbour. Pfenig remembers roughly where the stone went down. It all seems to be going well until -

Goddammit, I knew it. That bloody shark! “Delicious, you’ve returned!” Obliteros says. We roll initiative…

Pfenig goes first and casts Shillelelelalalelalabels. He still wants to look for the stone; Obliteros is miles away. He does Chill Touch, mostly as an afterthought. Does 13 hit? Yes, it does. 6 necrotic damage.

“That tickles!”

Fuck.

Is Nuri familiar with Obliteros, he wants to know? Well she tried to eat us once before, so yes. Technically. He touches his forehead, casts Message, and whispers “Obliteros. Please… Let us pass and we will make you a god on dry land. They will chum the waters for your amusement, they will worship you as a god.” He makes a Persuasion check; a ten.

“To whichever one of you little snackettes is in my head; I have just eaten, so eating you would be just for fun. But maybe we could make a deal. There’s a pesky dragon that’s moved in, and it tries to stop me eating people. I want you to convince that dragon to let me eat people. And then I’ll let you go.”

Nuri is confused for a moment as to the exact terms of this deal. How can we talk to a dragon if Obliteros won't let us go first? Will she bring it here, or...? She explains again, patiently; she will let us go if we promise to talk to the dragon. Nuri, unable to believe his luck: “Oh, okay, yeah, yeah, we can do that. We’ll definitely talk to the dragon, and you’ll let us go.”

“Alright, you can leave. But if you don’t talk to the dragon, next time I’ll eat you whether I’m hungry or not. And then I’ll sick you up and eat you again.” She saw a boatload of priests not far away; they were blessing other fishing boats. She’ll go off and eat them, she says. Or maybe just kill them. And with that she swims off. Nuri gets Inspiration for that, mostly because the repercussions here are potentially hilarious.

We descend to the bottom where we find, glowing under the Detect Magic spell, a bundle of rags - and inside it, the Stone of Golorr:

We know that one of us has to attune to it to use it; that is, if we should decide not to give it back…

We return to Grinda with the Apparatus. Pfenig tells her we’ve solved her shark problem. Nuri, awkwardly: “… Well… About that...”

Grinda is concerned. If we’ve made some sort of deal with Obliteros, she fears for all of us. Pfenig, who doesn’t know what Nuri has done, scoffs: “You’d have to be an idiot to do that.”

Can Grinda keep the priests that bless the fishing boats off the water for a bit, by any chance…?

We have some things to do, not least a long rest. Then we (probably) have to go and convince a dragon to let a shark eat anyone who falls in the harbour. Should we keep the Stone, or return it? Who should attune to it, if we decide to keep it?

(None of them know it, but this is Thessalie's Evil Wizard Origin Story. She eyes the Stone greedily.)