#like if I wanted to draw a dolphin or something | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xoamiiren · 4 months ago

Text

I SEA YOU, ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 jelly fish vs. goldfish

𖥔 PRECIS. In which, Jungwon realizes he loves you far more than the oceans he studies. PAIRING. marine bio major bf!jungwon x painting major gf!reader GENRE. fluff, friends to lovers WARNINGS. skinship, mild kissing

ren note ୨୧ this was incredibly cute to write.

─────────

Journal Entry O1: July 3rd

There’s something quietly cinematic about the way Jungwon moves through the world, his sneakers worn, frayed laces dragging against the ground, and his sea creature t-shirts thin and faded from too many washes clinging to his skin. His fingers are always curled around the strap of his camera, the weight of it a comforting presence on his chest. A worn tote bag slung over his shoulder carrying scribbled journals and books on marine life., and a different marine creature hangs from the strap on a keychain. His quiet eyes—cat-like and sharp—seem to study everything around him with an intensity he doesn’t speak aloud.

But today, like every day you’re near, his gaze rises — he notices you. You sit on a sun-warmed bench, sketchbook balanced on your knee, your hand lost in a flurry of movements. Y/N, a painting major, a dreamer. You wear flowy skirts that swish gently with the breeze, intricate crochet tops that speak of warmth and softness, your belly piercing always peeking out under the sun. You were always surrounded by a halo of color — paint smudged on your hands, your cheeks, even a few streaks on your pretty clothes.

Today, you were sketching jellyfish. And today, Jungwon feels the courage, unlike most days to approach. Without thinking, shy and hesitant, yet driven by something he doesn’t quite understand.

“Jellyfish actually have...,” his voice is soft as his finger hovers over your sketchbook., correcting a tiny detail with a shy shake of his head. You pause, you blink, and you smile too, wide and beautiful. A beautiful, full smile that makes Jungwon’s heart stumble in his chest. You change the drawing without hesitation, based on his correction, like it mattered to you.

You think he’s cute. Jungwon thinks You’re breathtaking.

⋆｡°✩🪼

Journal Entry O2: July 5th

You cross paths again, in that unintentional, serendipitous way two people bound by an invisible string tend to do.

In the bustling hallway, Jungwon notices you first, again — catching sight of the familiar sway of your lacy skirt. The soft yellow paint smudge on your cheek standing out like a tiny splash of life in the world around you. You notices him too, this time, catching sight of the new little keychain that hangs from his bag. A dolphin.

You say nothing at first, only stare at him until he feels your eyes on him. With the gentleness of someone handling glass, he reaches out and brushes the paint off your cheek with the pad of his thumb, pulling away just as fast. He doesn’t say a word. He never does. He never knows what to say, but your smile says enough for the both of you. Your eyes drop to his bag, noticing the whale keychain.

You exchange no words, but in that quiet moment, Jungwon feels a connection forming, like the pull of the tide. His eyes seem to soften, studying you not as something distant, but something he could grow closer to.

⋆｡°✩🐙

Journal Entry O3: July 7th

“Tell me an ocean fact.”

Your voice comes with the breeze, fluttering toward him as he sits alone on the stone wall, camera resting in his lap. Jungwon lifts his eyes, squinting against the sun, startled, and just… stares. His mouth opens, then closes. He can’t seem to find any words. The moment lingers awkwardly, but you just laugh, a light sound like wind chimes, and walks away with a wave.

He feels embarrassed, even hours later, as the memory of your request gnaws at him. He should have said something. Thinking of all the ocean facts he knows, which would you find the coolest? He wanted to be cool to you.

The next day, as you leave your class, Jungwon catches you by the sleeve.

“Squids have three hearts…” His words are rushed, awkward, but earnest, and he holds up three fingers as if to demonstrate.

You’re stunned. He’s scared. His chocolate orbs were blown wide, studying your reaction with nervous intensity. Your eyes light up, and you find it adorable that he remembered to tell you a simple fact — and that he had chased you down to share it.

Before walking away, he reaches into his tote bag and pulls out something small. A squid keychain. It dangles from his fingers, delicate and clear.

“For you,” he murmurs, his cheeks flushed as he hands it to you. You take it with a soft thank you, attaching it to your own bag immediately.

When you look up, he’s gone again.

Jungwon feels something warm unfurling in his chest.

⋆｡°✩🐬

Journal Entry O4: July 9th

Jungwon doesn’t talk much, but he begins to open up to you, little by little.. You talk enough for both of you. Your stories spill out like paint from a tube, vivid and chaotic. But somehow you're still always charming.

And he listens, smiling quietly to himself as you walk across campus, or when you walk together after class, the squid keychain now dangling from your bag. He likes listening as you speak with your hands. Your hands always smudged with paint, your sketchbook always bulging with papers and doodles. You always lead the conversation with ease.

Always…

One day, as you sit together on the grass, Jungwon notices that you smell like lavender and something sweet, while you notice that Jungwon smells faintly of citrus, and that his soft sandy locks catch the sun in a way that makes your heart stutter.

You like the way he stares out at the world, thoughtful and observant, always just a little bit removed but never distant. Jungwon likes the way your lips curl when you laugh, full and soft, your joy infectious. He likes the way your hands are always working on something creative, bringing beauty into the world with every stroke of your pencil or brush.

He finds himself wanting to be part of your world, even if it means just quietly standing by your side.

⋆｡°✩ 🦀

Journal Entry O5: July 10th

The aquarium was Jungwon’s idea, though he mumbled the invitation, unsure of how to ask.

“Want to go to the aquarium?”

The question came unexpectedly one afternoon, as you parted ways after class. His voice is small, barely there, but you hear it. You always hear him… You say yes. He’s surprised you said yes.

You wander the quiet halls of the aquarium. You walk in silence at first, but it’s the comfortable kind, your pinkies brushing every so often until, near the shark exhibit, Jungwon’s fingers finally curl around yours and you both look straight ahead into the glass covered ocean before you.

Later, under the glass bridge, where the ocean swirls above you, Jungwon kisses you, soft and hesitant, his lips barely brushing yours before he pulls away, cheeks burning. You blush too, but he chases your lips for another taste, a quiet desperation in his eyes that makes your heart leap.

Even later, you kiss again in secret, more firm this time, hidden by the dim light of the jellyfish tanks, your glowing forms casting an ethereal light on your flushed faces.

Jungwon decides he likes kissing you.

You decide you like being kissed by Jungwon.

⋆｡°✩ 🐠

Journal Entry O6: July 12th

Your dates are small and sweet. You bring him to the museum, where you explain the brushstrokes of paintings with the same enthusiasm Jungwon has for sea creatures. Jungwon listens, his eyes always observing, always studying you as you talk, as if memorizing every detail of your face.

In turn, he takes you to the beach, where you roll up your skirt and Jungwon, his pants, splashing through the shallow waves like kids. You kiss in the sand, salt on your lips and in your hair, your head resting on his chest as you lie under the vast sky.

One afternoon, you visit the pet store. A tiny goldfish catches Jungwon’s eye, its golden scales glittering under the light. You watch him, the way he presses his hands to the glass, his eyes wide with wonder. Without thinking twice, he buys the fish, and you bring it to his home together, its little bowl nestled in Jungwon’s arms.

⋆｡°✩ 🦑

Journal Entry O7: July 14th

In his new apartment, you spend afternoons tangled together on his mattress on the floor, you doodle little fish on Jungwon’s arm, your pen gliding over his skin in lazy strokes while he lies back on the thin sheets, watching you with soft eyes. The fan whirs above you, your thin clothes sticking to your skin as the summer heat seeps through the open window.

“I believe in mermaids,” he whispers one day, his voice barely audible over the fan as he rests his head on the plushness of your thighs, staring up at you like the stars in the sky.

You turn from the window, head down to look at him, curious.

“I think you’re a mermaid.”

Your lips part in surprise before breaking into a grin. And for the first time, you lean down to kiss him, with all the gentleness of the tide washing over the shore, your hand cupping his cheek. Jungwon’s heart swells in his chest…

Jungwon loves you.

And you, you love Jungwon too.

438 notes · View notes

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months ago

Text

In The Gloomy Depths [Chapter 4: Emerald]

Series summary: Five years ago, jewel mining tycoon Daemon Targaryen made a promise in order to win your hand in marriage. Now he has broken it and forced you into a voyage across the Atlantic, betraying you in increasingly horrifying ways and using your son as leverage to ensure your cooperation. You have no friends and no allies, except a destitute viola player you can’t seem to get away from…

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), parenthood, dolphins, death and peril, violence (including domestic violence), drinking, smoking, freezing temperatures, murder, if you don’t like Titanic you won’t like this fic!!! ��

Word count: 5.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @arcielee @nightvyre @mrs-starkgaryen @gemini-mama @ecstaticactus, more in comments 🥰

💎 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 💎

Back into the sitting room, fleeing like a hare from hounds, but Rush is here trying to grab you. You careen to the door to the private promenade deck and dive out into the bitter starlit cold, your breath fog, your shoes slipping on the yellow pine planks that overlay the steel skeleton of the ship, weight that could drag you down to the ocean floor. Rush is in pursuit; he swipes at your arm and gets ahold of your coat sleeve, soft pink wool. You wrench yourself free, twisting out of the coat and dropping your handbag, colliding with the barrier, Tudor-style timber paneling beneath vast windows the frigid night air pours in through. Your hip bruises against the wood, you can hear black waves crashing below; then you collapse to the deck, your spine pressed to the wall, trying to back away when there’s nowhere left to run to. You realize you are still clutching Aegon’s small aluminum lighter and shove it beneath the skirt of your gown. Rush draws his pistol.

“No no no!” you plead, showing him your palms, cowering beneath one of the windows.

They could throw me out of it. They could say it was an accident or a suicide.

The deck is lined with potted plants and lightweight wicker furniture. Inside, you can hear Rhaenyra saying something, though her words are muffled; it’s a tone you wouldn’t have thought she was capable of. She sounds afraid. Draco and Dagmar must be asleep, Fern tucked away in the tiny maid’s room. There are no witnesses to what will happen next. Your heart thuds in your chest, swollen and sickly. Cold North Atlantic wind washes over your bare skin and leaves you freckled with goosebumps.

Like a lightning storm, like a hurricane, Daemon surges out onto the deck. He is still tying his robe shut. His hair hangs in dark, damp strands over his forehead. You picture it again, though you don’t want to: Daemon with Rhaenyra like he’s never been with you, the impulsive desire, the dire necessity.

Why not in Rhaenyra’s bed? Why would he bring her here?

Because he thought you wouldn’t be back until midnight…and to prove he can get away with it. To succeed where he failed with you this morning. To feel like a man again.

“I didn’t see anything,” you tell him, but you cannot keep the shock and disgust from your face, intractable like a wild animal.

Daemon kicks one of the wicker chairs at you. You bat it away with a scream and press yourself harder against the barrier, trying to disappear, trying to become somebody else, a girl who didn’t agree to marry a renegade of a man who showed up smirking and cavalier at her father’s Connemara marble quarry.

I want to go home, you think with helplessness like a child’s.

“I didn’t see anything,” you say again, sobbing now. With one hand, you claw at the windowsill above you so you have something to hold onto if he tries to drag you away. The wind, sweeping down from the Arctic, burns like blue fire in your lungs. “I don’t know anything.”

Daemon dives to the floor, hooks his fingers into your hair, yanks you closer as you cry out and flinch away from him. “One word, one fucking word, and you’re gone,” he is threatening, a blade-sharp hiss, and you can smell Rhaenyra’s perfume on him, marking his flushed skin like a bloodstain; but Daemon’s deep-set green eyes—emerald, malachite, jade, serpentine, Connemara marble—are fearful. This is strange; this is unlike him, this is a foreign language.

He loves her, you realize. He’s terrified to harm her, to lose her.

“I would never—”

“Over the railing,” Daemon snarls, jerking your head to the side as you whimper. “Your bones at the bottom of the ocean, your name forgotten.”

“I won’t tell, please, Daemon, please, don’t hurt me.” You look at Rush. He’s staring indifferently down at you, his pistol still in his hand. You turn back to Daemon. “I’ve never told anyone.” About the bruises, about the man you really are. “Not my parents, not a soul. I don’t want to tell. I just want to stay with you and Draco. I won’t jeopardize that. Please, Daemon, please—”

“No one would believe you,” he says; but if that was true, he wouldn’t be so frantic. “You’d be a madwoman. They’d lock you up in an asylum, put you in a straightjacket, cut the pieces off of you that made you so hysterical.”

“Yes,” you agree, yielding, toothless.

He rips at your hair again, pulling you away from the barrier and to the center of the floor. Rush steps out of the way to make room. You don’t fight Daemon. You have to convince him your fighting days are over.

Why doesn’t he kill me now? A dagger to the jugular, a body splashing into opaque waves?

Because he needs his perfect family in order to march triumphantly into the skyscrapers-and-streetlights labyrinth of Manhattan. Because he can’t eclipse Viserys if people are whispering that his wife is dead under peculiar circumstances, fallen overboard on Titanic’s famed maiden voyage, insane or drunk or maybe—just maybe—murdered by a man’s rough rageful hands.

“What did you see?” Daemon says, testing you.

“Nothing.”

His palm cracks across your face. You yelp, more startled than in pain. Your skin is going numb from the cold; he’s hit you harder before. Now he doesn’t want to bloody or bruise you, he doesn’t want to leave evidence others could notice. He wants his threats imprinted irrevocably into you like scars. He wants you to listen. “What did you see?!”

“Nothing,” you moan, and then the door to the sitting room opens. You, Daemon, and Rush all whirl towards the noise.

In the doorway stands Fern with a silver-plated tray of tea and biscuits. Her black dress and white apron appear hastily thrown on, rumpled fabric and some buttons left undone. She blinks a few times, but she seems more nervous than shocked. Her eyes flit to you and then settle benignly on a wicker table. She ignores the chair that Daemon kicked earlier, lying overturned at the edge of the deck.

She knew what was happening, you think, grateful, a little awed. She’s here to try to stop it.

“It’s so cold out tonight,” Fern says at last. “I thought I’d make tea.”

Daemon doesn’t know how to respond. He’s never cruel to the staff, that’s one of his charms. His miners worship him, his valets believe him to be their true friend, his housekeepers fret over him as if he’s their husband or their son. Daemon rarely acknowledges Fern directly, as if she doesn’t quite exist to him, a ghost whose silhouette appears on eerie nights, squeaks of door hinges and objects nudged a few mysterious centimeters. He chooses his enemies with great care, like a gardener pruning diseased leaves. Daemon understands that the ones who toil beneath his feet are in the best position to rise up and devour him.

Fern sets the tray down on the wicker table and waits, her hands clasped decorously in front of her. “Will you be requiring anything else, sir?”

There are several electrified seconds—waves thrashing against the ship, wind howling as it tears through your hair—and then Daemon laughs and releases you, as if this has all been a comical misunderstanding. He stands and goes to the tray, picks up a cup of tea, and slurps on it as steam billows up into his face. “How kind of you.”

Fern bows her head in a nod, not leaving. Rush glances between them, then slides his pistol back into its holster.

“Draco should have a mother,” Daemon tells you, looking down from a great height. It sounds like it is meant to be a compromise.

“He should,” you reply. Even if I cannot touch him, cannot be alone with him, cannot teach him to love me.

“It’s not good for boys. When their mothers up and die on them while they’re still so young.” Daemon is reflective for a moment—an unusual skin for him to wear—and then slinks towards the doorway. “Fern, darling, change the bedsheets, will you?”

“Yes, sir. Right away.” She follows him back inside, a brief glimpse at you over one shoulder. Rush glowers at you and disappears with them. You are left alone on the private promenade deck.

Your head spinning, your bones freezing, you struggle to your feet: palms flat on the pine planks, black opal ring glimmering in the moonlight, knees groaning as you lift them. Slowly—stunned, aching—you pull on your pink wool coat. You find Aegon’s lighter and hide it in your handbag, then stand there clutching it like you’re on your way to some glittering social engagement, a tea party, a dinner, a gala, a Christmas party. But what you’re on your way to is purgatory, like the one Dante wrote of, a prison where you will sweat out your sins over and over again.

Why did I believe him? Why did I marry him? Why can’t I find a way out?

You leave the deck like an autumn frosting into winter, bleak, hushed, listless. You do not return to your staterooms but pass through the doorway that leads to the B-Deck hallways. The corridors are quiet and still, occasional stewards running the last errands of the night, a few men in black suits puffing on pipes and cigars, swirling clinking glasses of brandy, ruing all the blights that have incumbered their earnings: foolish wives, Democratic politicians, dissolute immigrants.

You flee towards the stern of the ship, far from the first-class sections. Outside there is a greenish hue to the sky—dim echoes of northern lights—and stars that sparkle like jewels. There is no one lingering by the back railing of Titanic, and for good reason; the air is so cold it bites like fangs, and the roar of the propellers is terrible, so loud and so guttural, sea monsters like the ones early explorers drew into the margins of their maps clawing up from the depths. You fall to the deck and sit with your knees to your chest at the end of a pair of benches—hiding in the shadows where you will not be seen by wandering passengers or lookouts scanning for icebergs—and gaze into the east as Titanic chugs westward, away from Ireland, away from everything your life could have been.

Tears bleed down your cheeks and turn from magma to ice there. You wipe them off your face with the sleeve of your pink wool coat. You ignite a cigarette with Aegon’s aluminum lighter and smoke it all the way down. You light another, and another, poisoning your blood with each breath, polishing the barbs off reality. It’s not enough. You need a drink. How long until you’re just another languishing housewife addicted to laudanum or cocaine? How long until you’re a drunk like Aegon once was?

I want to go home. I want to go home.

There are footsteps, sluggish and clumsy. An intoxicated man. You are about to scramble to your feet and escape when you see who it is. Aegon flops down beside you in a stolen black coat, the pungent miasma of Guinness wafting off of him and his face splotchy and red, looking away from you, ashamed of himself.

You say: “I thought you didn’t drink anymore.”

“And obviously there’s a reason for that,” Aegon slurs. He rubs his eyes, watery and unfocused, bloodshot and despondent. “I’m having a bad night.”

Me too. “Did you know?” you ask, a hoarse voice, a cigarette smoldering between two fingers.

Aegon is confused. “Know what?”

“That Daemon can’t get hard for me because he’d rather be sleeping with his niece.”

“What?” Aegon gapes at you, incredulous, revolted. “Daemon is fucking Rhaenyra?”

You nod, taking a drag. There is a faint orange glow, a warm hit of nicotine to your blood.

“I can’t believe that.”

“I can. I saw it.”

“Jesus,” Aegon mutters, staring out into the endless ink spill of the Atlantic Ocean. Then, more sympathetically: “No, I didn’t know.”

“You never heard anything?”

“Not like that,” he says. “I mean, I remember when I was a kid and people were talking about Daemon being a bad influence on her. But they said he was teaching Rhaenyra to go to parties and stay out too late and swear and smoke, not…you know. Not that he was committing incest with her. That’s some Richard III mischief.”

“Now I understand why you know so much Shakespeare.”

“My parents couldn’t send me to boarding school fast enough. I was shipped off the same week I turned five. Cake and presents one day, shoved on a train the next.”

“I’m afraid Daemon will do that to Draco.” You can’t keep the quiver from your words. “I’m afraid he’ll kill me now that I know the worst of his secrets.”

Aegon turns to you, and through the haze of dark bitter Guinness that’s still sloshing from his stomach into his bloodstream you can see he fears the same thing.

“I want to go home,” you sob, breaking down. Ashes build on your cigarette until you toss it away. Tears spill from your eyes, the River Shannon, the River Clare. “Nobody here cares about me.”

“I do,” Aegon insists, touching your face, trying to make you listen. His sand-colored hair lashes in the wind. “I care about you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m trying to.”

“Why do you care? Why can’t you leave me alone? Did you go to O’Connell’s Bar to spy on me, was all of this to spite Daemon and—?”

“No,” Aegon says, a truthful boyish confession. “No. I didn’t know you’d be there. I didn’t know anything about you except that Daemon had married some quarry heiress. I heard he’d be there for an interview, and I was curious, and I kind of thought it’d be fun to fuck with him if he ended up recognizing me, and so I got a job at O’Connell’s and made sure I’d be playing the night Daemon showed up. That’s all there was to it. And then I saw you in that bar in Galway and you were…” He shakes his head. His voice drops to a whisper, aching and reverent. “You were so sad, and so beautiful, and I…I’ve never done anything important in my entire life. I’ve never helped anyone. But I looked at you and I felt like…I thought…I could save her. And maybe that would make all the rest of my mistakes worth it, the wasted years of drinking myself to sleep every night, the aimlessness, the emptiness, the way I abandoned my mother and Helaena, Aemond, Daeron. I followed you onto Titanic because I had to try to help you. But by leading me home, by bringing me back to my family in New York…maybe you’re helping me too.”

I wish I was yours, you think, so vividly you almost tell him. I wish I was a stone in your mine to be found in the darkness, chiseled from the wall, studied and cut down and polished, set in gold or silver to be worn on your ring finger, your blood pulsing beneath my ageless gleam.

“Please stay away from me,” you beg him. “Please, Aegon. I don’t want you to die.”

He says as his thumbprints clean tears from your cheeks: “What if Daemon was gone?”

“You mean what if I pushed him over a railing and into the Atlantic Ocean?” you ask, sniffling. “Assuming I could get him alone, and he didn’t stab me first or drag me overboard with him, they would know it was me. Rush, Dagmar, Rhaenyra. And they would make me pay. If I lived, I’d spend the rest of my life in a prison or an asylum. I wouldn’t get to go home. I wouldn’t get to keep Draco.”

Aegon doesn’t know what to say, and this is because there are no answers. You aren’t overlooking anything. Sometimes reality is cold and unfeeling and lethal, primordial, reptilian, mindless black eyes like a shark’s.

You smile miserably at him. “I’m going to miss you when the ship docks in New York Harbor.”

“Daemon wanting to fuck Rhaenyra doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Stop,” you say, wincing, standing to leave him. Aegon reaches for your hands, but you hide them in the pockets of your pink wool coat. He gazes up at you, drunk desperate heartbreak. You wonder how clearly he’ll remember this tomorrow.

“If you were my wife, I’d never look away.”

“You have no idea who I am. You’ve never really seen me.” Never held me, never uncovered me, never opened me and filled the void with your own rushing blood. Then you depart before someone can come searching for you and discover Aegon, rip away his disguise, toss him into the roiling frigid surf stirred up by the propellers.

In your staterooms, the lamplit air is silent and warmed by the ship’s furnaces, shoveled full of coal at all hours of the day and night. Fern is waiting on the sofa when you enter. She looks at you as if she is relieved, then vanishes into her tiny maid’s room without a word. Your bedroom has been tidied, the linens changed; but the mineral ether of sex still hangs in the space like tapestries from a wall. You try not to notice your reflection in the mirror.

Daemon never touched me like he touched Rhaenyra. He never wanted me, I never satisfied him.

Daemon doesn’t come back all night. You sleep on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~

On the morning of Sunday April 14th, you dress in green, the color of the Emerald Isle, the color of deep poisonous envy. You affix small emeralds to your ears and one massive stone around your throat, found in Madagascar in one of Daemon’s Grandidierite mines, a lush verdant glint in a nest of cold blue like deep water, like ice.

Heavy enough to drown me, you think wryly, a swift glance at the mirror, turning away again almost immediately. I’d go straight to the bottom.

Before you leave the bedroom, you slide open the top drawer of Dameon’s writing desk, presently abandoned. His dagger is there, gold hilt and spherical gemstones like miniature planets, all fatefully aligned: amethyst, tiger’s eye, black opal, emerald, ruby, bloodstone, sapphire. You lift up the dagger and study it, circling the tiny emerald world with your index finger. You are jealous of Rhaenyra getting everything she’s ever wanted. You are jealous of any woman who’s ever touched Aegon, who knows what it feels like to lie beneath him, to be known by him.

You place the dagger back in the drawer and slam it shut; the whole desk rattles. Then you go out into the sitting room, where Fern is attempting to wrestle Draco into his black wool coat, a small version of Daemon’s.

“No!” Draco is bellowing. “I don’t want to wear it, I don’t want to, let me go!”

“You’ll freeze to death out there, lad,” Fern says, strands of her long copper-colored hair escaping from her bonnet and a sheen of perspiration on her forehead, looking like she’s been to war.

Draco is stomping on the toes of her shoes to little effect. “No I won’t!”

You peer around, searching for your geriatric nemesis, a banshee, a vampire. She is nowhere to be found. “Where’s Dagmar?”

“She’s feeling seasick,” Fern replies, still struggling with Draco. “So she’s lying down in Draco’s bedroom. I’m sure she’ll be up and around again before you know it. She’s a tough old Cailleach.” And there’s no danger in being overheard; Dagmar wouldn’t know what that means, just like you don’t understand her when she mutters her strange Scandinavian curses.

You immediately scoop up Draco and run with him out of the staterooms, Draco giggling shrilly, you beaming as you fly down the corridors and ascend the Grand Staircase two steps at a time, your green shoes slipping on the English oak wood as you zoom past the bronze cherub statue and the ticking clock. All around you are first-class passengers watching with startled looks, a little baffled, a little amused. High above is the dome of glass and wrought iron, brisk white-gold sunlight streaming through. You carry Draco out onto the Boat Deck, the highest level of the ship, and take him to an unoccupied portion of the railing beside one of the lifeboats. You hold him so he can see over the barrier and out into the calm murky blue of the North Atlantic Ocean, hundreds of miles southeast of Newfoundland. The breeze is icy, the sky infinite and cloudless.

You spot slate grey fins cutting up through the water in arches, a whole pod of them. “Look, look! Dolphins!”

“Dolphins?” Draco says doubtfully. “Dolphins are real? Not just in books?”

“Of course they’re real. And they’re friendly, too. Back in Galway, sometimes they swim right up to the pier hoping the fishermen will share the catch of the day.”

“Neat!” Draco shouts. “Can I throw things at them?”

You pause, unsure how to reply. You resist the urge to shake him and say: Do you crave violence like Daemon, are you burning up inside with his fire? Do you want to be a monster like your father? One day will you paint amethyst bruises on your wife? “Why would you want to do that?”

Draco shrugs. “I like throwing things.”

“Well, throwing things can be fun, but if you throw something at a dolphin you might hurt it. Do you want to hurt the dolphin? It’s a living creature just like you. They have friends and families, and blood in their veins. They can feel it if you cut them.”

“No,” Draco decides. “I don’t really want to hurt the dolphins.”

“You can throw things in other situations, like if you play cricket or hurling or Gaelic football. Or baseball, I guess. Now that we’ll be living in America.”

“Okay,” Draco says, gazing at the ocean. Fern trots over to you, breathing heavily from trying to keep up, but she’s grinning. She has brought the coat Draco refused to put on, and this is fortunate, because now as you hold him on your hip you can feel your son is shivering.

“Do you want to put on your coat now?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” Draco says reluctantly, and you lower him down to the deck and help him tug the sleeves over his tiny arms. You suddenly remember when he was born and being so fascinated by his hands—so small and wrinkled, so powerless, always grasping—and Dagmar forever clawing him out of your arms, bundling him up in blankets and whisking him away to other corners of the castle.

“Fern was trying to help you when she told you to wear your coat. She knew you would be cold, and now you are, aren’t you? When adults tell you to do things, it’s not for no reason. They just want what’s best for you.”

“But I don’t like to do what other people say. I like to do what I want.”

“And that’s totally understandable,” you say. “Sometimes you will get to make your own decisions, especially as you get older. But right now you’re very, very young, and there are just a lot of things you don’t know yet, so you need adults more. Please be kind when Fern is trying to help you with your coat or your shoes. She doesn’t mean to upset you. She wants you to be safe and healthy.”

Fern gives you a modest, thankful smile. Draco is mulling this over. “The older someone is, the more they know?”

“I suppose you could put it that way,” you say.

“So Dagmar knows a lot more than you.”

He’s not trying to be cruel; he’s trying to figure things out. The world is so new to him. You wish you could recall what that feels like, to see everything with vast light wonder. “Well…” you begin delicately. He loves her; you cannot win by bludgeoning her into a mess of bloodstains and bone shards. “Yes, she probably knows more about certain things.”

You pick Draco up again to distract him, and he is captivated by the seagulls swooping through the air, laughing and tracking them with his wide eyes, a sunlit green beneath pale blonde hair that is disheveled from the wind. There is a figure lurking on the periphery of your vision, a man in black, a coat and a hat, hands in his pockets. You turn to see it’s Aegon, perhaps ten feet away and pretending to survey the horizon. Your heartbeat quickens; you stomach drops.

What on earth is he doing here? Why can’t he leave me alone?

But of course, you don’t want him to. You stare at him and instinctively touch the emerald that hangs from your throat, Madagascar, Ireland, treasure, envy. You think of how your bedroom smelled when you returned to it late last night.

Fern seems oblivious to Aegon. “I feel so much better knowing there are lifeboats aboard,” she says, looking at the vessel you are standing beside.

“There aren’t enough of them,” you tell her, a low murmur that Draco pays no attention to.

Fern is alarmed. “No?”

“They can fit about half the passengers, no more. So if anything happens, make sure you don’t waste any time finding yourself a seat.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am,” Fern says, troubled.

“Have you seen Lord Targaryen today?”

“No, ma’am,” Fern answers, trying to keep her tone neutral. She isn’t sure if it will be a relief to you or a knife to the heart. “He moved some of his things to Rhaenyra’s rooms before he departed last night. I suspect he will spend the rest of Titanic’s journey there.”

“He’s so fond of his niece,” you say flatly.

“Yes.”

“And she is in need of company, as her own husband is always fraternizing with the Parisians.”

Fern isn’t sure what she’s allowed to say. She smirks and bows her head to hide it. Now Aegon is strolling closer, ostensibly casual. “Good morning, ladies!”

Fern curtsies politely. “Good morning, sir.”

He casts Draco a glance—Aegon seems puzzled by him, maybe a little wary, certainly not accustomed to being around children—then extends an open hand to you. “What an engagement ring! Might I trouble you for a quick look?”

You set Draco down and he is promptly enamored by an orange-sized rubber ball someone has left here. “Of course.” You try to act indifferent, but when Aegon takes your left hand in his own you feel a jolt of warmth travel like a wave up the length of your arm.

Aegon turns your hand one way and then the other, inspecting it. Underneath, his fingertips stroke the lines of your palm. A tremor cascades down the rungs of your spine, helpless hypnotic longing. “What is that, onyx? Obsidian? Jet?”

“Black opal. From Australia.”

“A prison colony,” Aegon says, grinning at you from under the brim of his hat. “A place for villains and beasts.” Swiftly, he takes his right hand from his coat pocket and presses something into your palm: a folded piece of paper, a note, a message in a bottle from a castaway. Then he steps back from you as if it takes great effort.

“There you are!” a craggy voice cries out, and Dagmar is crossing the deck. She seems restored, if a bit wan. She swishes over in her charcoal-colored gown, her white hair twisted into a severe bun, and when Draco bolts to her she kneels down and catches him in a fierce, territorial embrace, her gnarled hands encircling his diminutive body. “Out and about without me? And I wager you haven’t even had breakfast yet, have you, my love?” She glares over his little shoulder at you. “You must be famished. How terribly irresponsible to let you suffer.”

“He ate some tea and biscuits when he woke up to tide him over,” Fern offers meekly.

“I was having fun with Mam,” Draco tells Dagmar, and you see the calculations on her cunning ancient face. She can’t scold him, she can’t correct him. She can’t defeat you with naked wrath any more than you can demand he stop loving Dagmar. You have sailed into new waters, a subtle silent war.

Aegon is receding, disappearing into the crowds of first-class passengers strolling the Boat Deck. Dagmar glances at him and then looks again, her jaw dropping open, her attention captured like a jewel in the pocket of a thief.

“What is it?” Fern asks, peeking bewilderedly at the stranger. Draco is chasing the rubber ball around again. Your pulse thuds hot and hectic in your ears.

Dagmar’s sharp blue eyes are uncharacteristically dazed; she shakes her head as if she’s just seen something impossible, an angel or a ghost. “He looks just like Viserys when he was young.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dagmar spirits Draco off to breakfast, Fern returns to the staterooms to complete her chores for the day. You take the Grand Staircase down to A-Deck and slip into the Reading and Writing Room, mostly unoccupied this early in the day, to read Aegon’s note. Outside on the Promenade Deck, you can hear Daemon and Rhaenyra strolling by with a number of companions, chuckling and chatting away in a world where all their wishes are granted.

Daemon is saying: “There is an Armenian legend about a so-called Queen of the Serpents, who carries in her fanged mouth a stone made of light. Some nights she tosses it up into the air, where it becomes the moon, full and shining, until it inevitably drops back down to the earth. And as the proverb goes, happy is the man who shall catch the stone where it falls…”

You know that story. It was in one of the books you gifted Daemon for your first anniversary.

With trembling hands, you unfold Aegon’s note. He has written in black ink:

Petra,

One last painting?

Don’t go to dinner tonight. Meet me at the stern.

- Picasso

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x oc #aegon x y/n #hotd fic #hotd fanfic

175 notes · View notes

local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti · 3 months ago

Note

I’m by no means any sort of expert on any animal’s behavior so please feel free to ignore this random observation/ opinion.

But something I find interesting about people defending Moo Deng’s treatment is the frequent assertion that her keepers love her, as if that excuses everything. I honestly don’t doubt that her keepers love her, but that doesn’t mean their actions are appropriate.

To me it’s reminiscent of someone cornering and petting a dog against it’s will because “I just LOVE dogs!!!��. Loving the animal doesn’t mean you can’t inadvertently harm them with your actions.

Idk, I just have a lot of feelings on this and this was my attempt to sum them up. Hope it makes some sort of sense 😅

Oh yeah tell me about it! I appreciate you sharing this because I feel like I'm going insane when I see people being given the same information as I have and drawing a totally different conclusion from it.

Like... it's not okay just because they harass her a little bit. That's... not how that works.

Also I find the "trust the keeper" argument super ironic coming from someone who worked with dolphins - the species in human care that EVERYONE has an opinion on. And you'll tell people "hey, trust me on this. I see these dolphins every day. They participate in their own health care and don't do something if they don't want to. They are objectively in good welfare based on all the current data we have of what that looks like. I do behaviour records every day to prove this. And if I didn't think they were doing well, I'd be fighting tooth and nail to improve their lives or I would leave my job." (which I have done, btw)

And I'll still be told I'm enslaving dolphins and I do it for the money (when it was free labour - yay for animal industry exploitation - or absolutely bugger all). Trust the keeper... unless I watch a biased documentary packed full of misinformation. Then I know *more* than the keeper will and the keeper is just a moron who doesn't need a science degree and years of unpaid internship experience for this job!

But if it's a cute animal that has no preconceptions established of their welfare in human care? It's free game to coo over. Sure the keeper just dropped that squirming, panicking baby hippo he was trying to force into a tub! But he has so much experience because someone on reddit said so! It's actually all just desentisation! (not how desensisation works ever)

Can you tell I'm frustrated? Yeah...

Anyway I am usually the first in line to defend a zoo and their keepers - I know it's not easy to work in a zoo that's underresourced or in an education vaccum. But I'm going to call out bad handling when I see it. Especially when it's reinforced by social media clout and is being encouraged to continue by people justifying it as "desenitisation" or "actions of an experienced keeper."

#animal welfare #moo deng #zoo politics #watch a bunch of people swarm my comments about how bad it is to have dolphins in human care #we got research on this guys #they good

102 notes · View notes

klausysworld · 1 year ago

Note

Could I ask a smut with klaus and a mermaid reader? She comes to the surface and he shows her the pleasures of the human body (and what is between the legs she just got

Dream come true

Klaus was prone to secrets so when he started taking day trips each week without any explanation, his family knew it was best to just pretend it wasn’t happening. They assumed he was probably out slaughtering innocents, none of them would have guessed he was sneaking off to the coast of Louisiana to see a mermaid.

The rare few times the originals had encountered mermaids…well they had been rather viscous creatures, sirens.

But y/n was a creature of delicacy and grace. She was shy and skittish, not Klaus’s usual type at all and yet he didn’t even want to deny that he had fallen for her.

Klaus had been down there at the very least once a week if not more. They had a cave they would meet at where the water was shallow enough for him to just reach the bottom if he wanted to and still deep enough for her to swim around freely.

Sometimes he would just sit on the ledge and let his legs float in the water while she laid on her back and spoke to him of the ocean drama. He loved to listen to how the other mer-people behaved, or even better when she began to speak of the animals. It never failed to impress him how comfortable the dolphins were with her. A few times now, at night when nobody was out, Klaus would have each hand on a fin of a two dolphins as she giggled and brought him further out.

Sometimes he managed to swim himself out but would his body would often get tired despite his supernatural abilities, because he hadn’t been feeding when he was with her it made him weaker. He initially underestimated how strong her rail was until he had grown tired of treading water and she wrapped her arms around his midsection, keeping him above the surface for another hour before holding his hand and swimming him back to land.

Klaus had never owned so many swimming trunks before. He also learned that most of his gifts weren’t very incredible to someone like her. Most jewels were in the ocean which meant a pearl necklace from him was just another tacky accessory for a mermaid. She never told him that of course, always showed her appreciation and wore the items each time he saw her but after a while he realised that she already owned an excessive amount and tried to get her things she didn’t yet have.

He found that something as simple as a hand carved, stone mermaid meant so much more to her than anything he could buy her. Framed drawings and human clothes were also of her interest.

Klaus had bought her a variety of pretty bras and bikini tops which always seemed to make her beam up at him and go behind the rocks to change into. Until, after a while, he had sat behind her on the edge of the rocks to slip the make-shift, shell bra off of her chest so he could pull the new patterned one on.

Once they knew each other well and saw one another more and more often, Klaus would pick her up, wrap her in a blanket and carry her around for a while so she could see some things on land. Often they would just sit up on the beach during the very early hours of the morning before anyone came by.

And it was one of those mornings where their usual sweet kisses became passionate making out and then his hands had snapped the material of her bra and he was gripping them desperately. She had no idea what he was doing but it felt indescribable to her and she couldn’t help the sounds she was producing when his lips pulled at her nipple and her tail began to lift and hit the sand. His hands rubbed down her scales smoothly and he forgot what she was for a moment as he went to open her nonexistent legs making her pull away in pain when he pulled at her tail.

He had apologised of course and put her sparkly bra back on. Klaus pulled her onto his lap and gently stroked her hips down as he whispered his “sorry”s over and over.

It was difficult not being able to have her the way he dreamt of. All he fantasised about was being able to make love to her. He wouldn’t be able to count the amount of times he had gotten off to a painting of her, the thought of her.

One day when they were down at the beach and they laid with each other on the sand, allowing the water to wash over them both every few seconds, her fingers had been stroking up and down his body lovingly when she came in contact with something unfamiliar.

———————————————————————

Her brows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut as he kept in the grunt that threatened to escape him. She lifted her head in curiosity to look at the outline of the hard object in his swim shorts, a smile grew on her lips

“Did you get me another present?” She asked, surprised and excited but he only groaned softly and lifted her hand away when she tried to feel for what it was.

“No princess” he murmured “I’m sorry that’s not…fuck that’s not for you right now, my love” he told her while sitting up. She frowned a little in confusion but kept a smile on her face as to not show any disappointment that it wasn’t something for her.

“Is it… for someone else?” She asked quietly, trying to sound unbothered but he knew she was thinking he had bought someone else something

“Oh no no, it’s not…it’s not for anyone…it’s mine” he muttered while clearing his throat. His face was beat red as she asked her next question.

“Can I see it?” She smiled brightly he could feel himself twitch. His wolf was howling at him to take advantage of this moment and let her see his poor cock.

“It’s…it’s apart of me, love” he explained but she only got more confused. The water flowing up and down him wasn’t helping his situation, as well as her close proximity and lack of coverage for her top half. She had become much more comfortable with not wearing anything around him when she realised how good he could make her feel and how much he seemed to love the sight since that first morning.

“Well what is it?” She questioned with the slightest tilt of her head.

“It’s…something special that I suppose most sea creatures might not have…or it might not be as visible I’m not sure but mermen don’t have them sweetheart just human men.” He tried to give a short answer but everything he said brought more curiosity.

“Well I love human things and I love you so I’ll love this too I promise” she beamed at him and he couldn’t help the groan he let out as he banged the back of his head against the ground making her frown and worry. “You don’t have to share it” she told him quickly, not wanting him to hurt himself if she was upsetting him “I’m sorry, if it’s special then-“

“No..It’s not that I don’t want you to see Princess, because believe me, I would love you to have a look…it’s just…” he took a breath as he tried to think of a way to explain this too her. “It can make me feel a lot of things…it’s very sensitive and…precious?” He pinched himself at his own choice of words and sat up making her pull herself up too. She looked up at him with wide eyes when he shifted higher up the beach.

“I won’t ask anything else if you don’t want, just don’t leave yet please” she whispered thinking he was getting up to go, her eyes desperately looking to him so he would stay another hour.

“No…I’m not going, I’m just…thinking” he told her softly. She nodded and reached forward to hold his hand gently with a small smile on her face as she tried to stop herself from looking down at the mysterious thing in his shorts. He pursed his lips before coming to a decision and nodding. “Alright my love, I’m going to show you okay?” He announced while cupping her cheek with one hand and watching her face light up.

“Really?” She grinned and he nodded

“Just looking for now okay?”

“Mhm”

He kissed her lips briefly before hesitantly pulling his shorts down enough to let his cock aping out of them. Her eyes followed it with interest as it appeared even bigger then she had thought. She looked it over closely making his brows furrow as she did so. He wasn’t sure how to behave in this position, he definitely wasn’t prepared for her hand to wrap around it and pull it in curiosity

“Y/n!” He quickly grabbed her wrist “let’s not be so aggressive sweetheart” he told her, his eyes wide as she immediately let go and began to apologise. “It’s alright, just-“ he brought her hand back to it and slowly guided her to stroke him up and down. “Slow and steady” he whispered and she followed his lead. His breathing shallowed as she kept up the action after he let her wrist go and instead stroked her hair gently while telling her to go faster or slower every now and then.

She leaned her head down when a bead of white fluid trickled down one side “what’s that?” She whispered and he groaned at the feel of her hot breath over his tip.

“It just- it means you’re doing good princess” he grunted and she smiled.

“Really?” She stroked him a little faster, enjoying how his face twisted in pleasure and his body shuddered and arched.

Klaus’s mouth dropped open when he felt the heat of her tongue on his cock, pure ecstasy on his face as his eyes fluttered. Y/n hadn’t thought twice about the action, she just wanted to taste the liquid that meant he was happy. And oh was she glad she tried it, she liked it so much that she decided if she sucked harder then she would get more out of him. Which in all fairness she wasn’t wrong but it took Klaus and his body by surprise as he was forced into a much needed orgasm. If the situation had been different then he would have been embarrassed by how quick he came but it wasn’t like she knew how long most men lasted anyway. All she cared amount was gulping him down until he was milked dry.

Klaus nearly had to drag her off his cock when she kept sucking,

“I want some more” she whined while using her hand to make his dick big and hard again

“Princess- it’s sensitive, be gentle” he reminded and she nodded.

“Sorry” she whispered and slowly stroked him again, smiling when his hands cupped her face and guided her lips back down to his tip.

And from that day her mouth on his cock seemed to become more and more common. Whenever to noticed him to be hard, she was happy to make him feel better and drink his…milk.

Often Klaus would toy with her breasts while she licked his dick and played with his balls with interest. He couldn’t help but love the way she found everything about his body so incredibly fascinating, how eager she was to please him and watch his reactions. The louder he was, the more enthusiastic she felt.

She was always needing and he could only imagine what would happen if she ever had a human form.

It was topic that came up rather often actually. She had asked him once if there were any spells he knew of to let her be human, even just for a day. Y/n had made it very much clear that even though she dreamt have the ability to turn human, she wouldn’t trade her tail to be permanently human and Klaus understood that. He wouldn’t ask her to give who she was up. Just like he wouldn’t abandon his family to be a merman, but he would still entertain the idea of having fins for a day.

There had been so many nights in the water, both floating on their backs and looking up at the stars, fingers interlaced as they spoke about what they would do if one of them were able to become the other.

Klaus had told Y/n of all the different places in the world and Y/n told Klaus of the world below. Both sounded unbelievable to the other and Klaus had even brought her paintings and souvenirs from different countries while Y/n gave him shells and pearls from different oceans. Once or twice Klaus had set up a canvas on the beach and had Y/n explain the sea kingdom so he could try and envision it.

Y/n had tried to look for possible ways to turn one way or the other in the sea world, asking other mer-people and enchantresses. She was able to locate and come into possession of a special shell necklace that needed to be spelled by both a sea witch and a land witch to bind the magic and allow the being to wear it to turn into a mer-person in the water and a human when dry. So she brought it to Klaus on their next day together and he took it back home with him and found the most powerful witch he could to ensure the spell would work.

She had tried to convince him to wear it first but he shook his head and claimed that she deserved it more. He knew she had wanted to experience human life since young and so she should get to first. He promised when she had seen the perks of humanity then he would come with her to meet her family and friends as well.

But for the time being, he wanted her dreams to come true.

Which brought us to now.

———————————————————————

Klaus carried Y/n to the steps at the very top of the beach, he grabbed a towel from the car and gently dried her tail until both of them felt the buzz of magic in the air and the mermaid features vanished from her body. A scream left her as legs formed in place on her tail and his hand quickly covered her mouth as to not alarm locals.

“Sh sh sweetheart it’s okay” he chuckled watching her struggle to move them individual instead of together. Her eyes were wide and her breathing was fast. It didn’t register to him that she was naked, he didn’t care at that moment either, he was just so happy to see her having this experience.

Klaus lifted her onto her feet, instantly catching her when she failed to balance herself and fell backwards. Instead he shook his head with a laugh and carried her to the car. She had never been in a ‘moving thing’ before, only seen them parked and was petrified the whole time.

Klaus had let her scroll through his Spotify and find the artists she had favoured over their time together until they got to a hotel that klaus had pre booked for the week. They were in agreement that they would alternate in a week to wear the shell necklace so they both got the full experience of the other.

So he came prepared and had a suitcase of flowy dressed ready for her. He didn’t want anything too tight on her new legs and he wanted her to feel both pretty and comfortable.

But for the time being he pulled a top over her head and with much confusion on her end, a pair of panties up her legs. That was when she realised she had something between her legs, but not the same as what he had which only baffled her further. So when he went to get her some food, she decided to touch it. Turns out it was just as sensitive as his seemed to be, just as addictive as she rubbed her fingers against herself and tried to stop herself from making such needy sounds.

Klaus’s eyes almost fell out of his head when he found her squirming amongst the blankets, moaning and whining with her hand between her legs.

He shoved the takeaway bags on the side and kicked the door shut. She was clearly not paying attention as her hips thrust up and her legs shook. Only when her wrists were grabbed ahold of and she lost ahold of that intense pleasure she was chasing did she seem to come back to reality. Her eyes found his as she panted like a dog in heat. Klaus let out a chuckle at her behaviour and shook his head

“Couldn’t wait just 10 minutes could you sweetheart?” He murmured as he lifted her soaked hands to his mouth and licked them clean. She couldn’t help the moan that left her as he did so.

She looked up at him with glassy eyes as he kept her still. “I want to touch” she whispered and he hummed

“Feels good doesn’t it princess?” He teased and she nodded

“Does it feel like that when I touch you there?” She asked quietly and he nodded

“A little different but the overall outcome is pretty much the same.” He told her and she nodded in understanding. He let go of her hands and watched as she looked to his for permission before rubbing her fingers against her swollen clit. He shifted to kneel between her legs and placed a hand on each thigh. She let out a whine as he pushed them as far apart as she could manage before leaning down and blowing air over her core.

She moved her fingers away when she noticed his mouth inching closer and closer. After seeing how Klaus had writhed in pleasure when she put her mouth in him, she couldn’t wait for him to do it back.

As soon as his tongue laid flat against her bundle of nerves, she was a mess. He rubbed it back and forth against her, rolled it through her folds and back up to her pulsing pearl. Her fingers curled into his curls and nearly yanked them out of his head as his tongue went inside her and his nose rubbed her clit.

Klaus continued to lap at her her only a minute before she was cumming all over his face and screaming at the overwhelming rush.

He kissed from her soft little pussy, up to her face as she whimpered pleasantly. Her licks locked with his as his hands slid up under her t-shirt to squeeze her breasts the way he always did.

“Can you do it again?” She whispered needily and he chuckled with a smile as he pulled away and looked down at her.

“I’m going to give you something better” he told her and she tilted her head in question but he only grinned back at her.

He kept a hand on her knee, keeping it pressed against the bed so her legs were open while he kicked his jeans and boxers off and onto the floor. Her eyes lit up at the sight of his hard cock and her hand’s immediately reached forward to stroke it. He groaned softly in response and reluctantly tapped her wrist so she would stop

“Thank you sweetheart but you don’t need to do that this time” he whispered and she hesitantly nodded and took her hands away. “Good girl, now just relax a moment and close you eyes” he guided and she did so.

Though it didn’t last long for her eyes flew open when he thrust his whole cock inside her with one abrupt thrust. The stretch stung and a cry left her lips as she tried to push him away.

“Sh sh princess, it’s okay, it’s gonna feel much better in a minute” he told her gently, trying to calm her down as her cunt squeezed him unbearably tight for the next few moments.

Slowly, he began to rock his hips back and forth. His mouth hung open at the feel and sound of her sopping pussy gripping him as he slid within her. His hands grabbed onto the sheets beside her head as he moved a little faster. His mind was spinning with pleasure, he had fucked a lot of women in his time, a lot of virgins too but never had he fucked someone so wet and tight, not someone as loud as she was.

Neither one of them registered the banging coming from the other side of the wall as she screamed and moaned as though her life depended on it. His hand coming down to rub his thumb against her clit only made her louder as she seemed to only get tighter.

He continued to thrust himself in and out of her through her orgasm, his groans became dragged out moans as he kept fucking into her desperately. Klaus pulled her legs over his shoulders causing her to cry out over and over for him to go faster. She could barely comprehend anything when he went at his max speed, having her cum again without warning. Her sounds and words were a blur as he kept up his pace until he was unable to stop the wave of pleasure running through him. He came with a broken gasp, his hands grabbing onto her and holding her right against him as he slowed his movements and pumped her full of him.

They both laid still, his body trapping hers underneath him as they came down from their highs.

“I love having legs” she whispered, eyes wide with wonder. Klaus let out a laugh and nodded in agreement

“I love your legs too sweetheart” he told her in amusement.

They both laid there for a while, he cleaned her up of course so she wasn’t sticky, and then they both relaxed in one another’s hold.

His hands pet her hair gently, her touch as loving as he had ever been and his words were innocent ramblings of what they would do the next few days while she was in human form and where she wanted to go.

She looked up at him with a frown

“How am I supposed to top this?” She asked him and he furrowed his brows

“What do you mean?”

“Well you just gave me the best feeling in the world…how am I supposed to replicate that when you become a merman for a week?” She questioned and he laughed

“That’s what you’re nervous about?” He grinned and she nodded. “Sweetheart, you’ve been giving me the best feeling of my life since that day on the beach” he whispered and she smiled with a blush.

“Am I still allowed to do that?” She whispered and he nodded.

“Of course you can princess” he smiled and she beamed back. It never failed to please him with how eager she was to suck him off, even after giving everything he had to her, she still found her own pleasure in seeing him happy.

He smiled as she snuggled closer onto him, her legs tangling with his and her face in his chest as she began to drift to sleep.

The next morning he had arranged to take her out for brunch before letting her choose anywhere on the map where she wanted to go see.

He was determined to make her time on land worth it.

656 notes · View notes

shirotaangel · 6 months ago

Text

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ Babies

- KOZUME KENMA × READER

- SYNOPSIS: you just want to have your Kozume's babies but you're too fucked up.

tw : attempted murder (?), sexual tension, mentions of sex, angry sex at the bottom.

╰┈➤ YOU WERE WITH HIM in the empty classroom when you thought of the question. The rest of your class went down to the canteen but Kenma insisted on the both of you staying here, mumbling something along the lines of people become savages at lunchtime in the canteen.

He said you wouldn't like the lunch being served today.

"And that is-?" You smiled, raising your fine brow.

"You don't like anything," he leaned backward by the elbows in the window, sunlight striping his forehead, "Don't matter what the canteens are selling."

You were writing on the blackboards, scribbles both of your names and faces of cartoons. You drew a pink cat since there's no red chalk. Kuroo would normally be here, slacking off, but midterms got him by the leash.

Now it's you and Kenma.

And your great question.

"Kozume," you turned to him. His body was halfway through the window, balancing, closing his eyes. His bleached hair fell behind, shifting in the light breeze.

Summer looked pretty on him, you thought.

He asked, "what."

You thought about it at first, if you should ask him since it's not really what he would hear from you everyday, or generally from someone with a decent mind. But you're curious of his answer.

"Would you fuck me, Kozume?" She asked, almost bored, "get me pregnant."

His head lolled to your side of the classroom, his slanted eyes opened, "what kind of question is that?"

"Nothing much," you shrugged, "would you?"

"Huh," he says, unbothered, proceeding to think. He never answers a question of yours without giving it good pondering, "do I fuck you just to get you pregnant?"

"Yes . . . Just for that sole benefit," you inspected your acrylic nails, "squirting inside to get the baby in me. What do you think?"

He frowned a bit, his head lowering down the window, "if you'd ask for it, then sure."

You were surprised. Hardly anything surprised you nowadays, especially if it's Kenma. Actually it's him who hated the surprises - saying he didn't like the way it it made him contemplate.

You remember arguing that some questions didn't need to be deep. He answered that you were a trickster - and he needed to dissect everything that comes from you to the very bone of it.

"You would?" she says, turning back to the board. You picked the blue chalk, starting to draw small penguins, whales, dolphins, "even now?"

He doesn't budge from his careless position, "if you ask."

"Let's say we did," you wondered, squinting as you added some scales to a chubby fish, "right here, right now. You fucked me hard. You cummed."

"Go on," he muttered, barely there.

"Suddenly, I'm carrying your baby, a boy maybe," you trailed off, thinking pink waves would look pretty, so you took the pink chalk and drew, "what do you think he'll look like?"

"You decide," he said, glancing at you momentarily, the blowing curtains brushing his shoulders softly, "you already know what I'll say."

"You'd have our baby boy look like Baldur, or maybe even Sean Bean," you turned to him, glaring a bit, "You're a horrible father."

"Why, I thought you'd want it to look like Sean," a small, amused grin tilts his thin lips, "we can cast him in some new medieval franchise somewhere in the future."

"I don't like those films," you sighed, disturbed, "I already rejected HBO - I didn't want to play Sansa."

He hummed.

You paused, imagining your baby boy, your little prince with Kenma. You're the more beautiful one between you two, but you'd actually like the kid to have his father's face - golden eyes, sharp features. You want all that is Kenma in your boy. You'd love him more than anything in the world.

"He can have your face," you put the chalk down, padding slowly towards Kenma. He's your best friend, your quiet baby boy. You stood between his legs, leaning down the window until your chests were pressed together, "our precious baby."

The third year classroom was in the third floor, reaching the top branches of the tallest tree on campus. Leaves were nearby so you plucked a few, tucking them in Kenma's blazer pockets.

"Why not yours?" he raised his head slightly, but not much, just to look at you face, brushing his finger on your jaw.

"Because I want our baby boy to look like you," you rubbed the tip of her nose lightly against his, smiling, "is that too much to ask?"

A small chuckle rumbled from his throat, his brows raised, "poor kid."

"What do you mean?" You asked softly, lacing your fingers through his and placing a small, quick kiss on his lips, "that's why I wanted you to make me pregnant, no one else."

"Yeah?" He slung an arm over his forehead.

The sky was a sweet blue above you, with barely any clouds. A little bird flew past, darting into the branches and leaves near.

"I want you to be mine forever," you breathed.

You two dangled a part of yourselves across the window, between what you could compare to life and death.

You could rise and nudge him back to the classroom, or in a little tilt you could send you both to Hell.

We deserve it so damn bad, you thought, playing with a stray streak of his hair.

"I want him to be fat, chubby, small, has your eyes," you took the hand of his you held, kissing those tan knuckles tenderly, "I want you to fuck me, Kenma, give me your babies."

He chuckled, his brows creasing together, "pump you full with my kids, huh?"

You laughed, kissing his lips once more. A small, precious kiss, "My Kozume."

He sighed, amused, "you'll be the death of me."

"And you're the death of me," you whispered, twirling of strand of his hair. It's almost dried from the bleach down deep to his roots.

You pressed yourself further against his chest, getting heavier and heavier, slowly tilting you two lower . . . lower.

Kenma grimaced, sternly saying your name. You don't listen.

"What the fuck are you doing," Kenma's narrow eyes were wide, breathless. He gripped your arm, pushing you back. He kept saying your name, each one more agitated than the last.

You kept silent.

You and him were slipping over the window sill - you deepened your body on his when you pressed your mouth on his jaw, pressuring his head downwards and downwards.

Kenma tried to grab on the rails but, he gasped against your lips when you threatened to push yourself lower down -

You curled your arms around his neck, abruptly pulled him back into the classroom. You landed on your back, Kenma on top.

Breathless as he is, Kenma pulled his head from you, his eyes wild. You knew he was cursing you, wanted to kill you in the most brutal ways. Maybe like stoning you to death naked in the middle of Shibuya. You'd like that death.

He did something much worse though. He gripped your wrists and fucked you. He fucked you hard, fucked you well.

The grudge in that? He didn't give you babies.

#kozume kenma #kenma #kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #nekoma #you're so fucked up #reader is disturbed

71 notes · View notes

a-smol-storm-gt-nomfs-blog · 10 days ago

Text

Miscommunication (Sea Speaker)

Grian had, emphasis on had, been working on the mer ramp as he’d been calling it. That changed when two of the cleaner mers had splashed him turning into a distraction. Currently, they are playing some version of Pictionary. The avian looked at the picture intensely. Shrimpy said something the other, making the wrasse shout back. Grian still couldn’t tell what was said, but he guessed it was teasing as the shrimp giggled. “It’s not Island.” he thought aloud. Another voice sounded behind him making the avian jump. When he had turned he saw the eel mer, Banana, or so Grian called him. He’d never personally been near it before but he knew that they spent a lot of time around the two Grian was currently with. The golden eel looked at Grian, saying something he guessed was an apology, due to the neck scratching. The wrasse explained what was going on though, pointing at the picture. The eel hummed then wiped a hand over the picture earning what the avian knew was a “HEY!” from Stripe This caused Grian to sit down near the wrasse and stroke his back. The mer swam closer to grian, likely enjoying it. He spoke to the others pointing at him, Grian hoped it was something nice. Though now he could also make out the eel drawing something in the sand. The avian leaned over trying to guess what it was, it looked nest-like almost. “Nest?” He asked. The eel did a close sign with his fingers. Grian mumbled things out loud to himself. What was similar to a nest, a bed? “Bed?” Another close signal, Banana started drawing again, this time it looked like a human home- oh. “House?” The eel looked at the two cleaners. One said something but the other one nodded to Grian. “What about it?” The eel turned back to the two who sighed. “Do you mean like location?” He tried considering the ‘island’ they had attempted before. All 3 heads nodded. “Oof, uh, I mean I don’t know where from here, but, I lived near a river, as well my diet is fish. An Estuary I think they’re called.” He paused to think. “So I got used to having a bit of salt water in my diet, and the occasional odd fish, but some fish could still eat us, it was scary.” The 3 mers were looking at him, still interested. “Oh, uh, well, if you want—” he sat down. I can tell you some stories.” There was a happy splash from Stripe. “Alright uhh, well, first one, someone you know- er I think? But the dolphin, Pearl! I knew her from there, I was learning sea speech from her, but then she and her pod left?” Grian paused for a moment. “Anyways, back to the happier stuff. I first met her when we were being introduced to them. Some of the others shoved me in the water, playfully. But I don’t think she knew that as she barked, er, its what someone called it, at them until they left.” The avian smiled thinking about it. “When it came time to learn, she shoved another dolphin out of the way, she wanted me so bad.” Grian chuckled through the thought. “I hope the other one's eye was okay.” He mumbled out loud. “Uh- but we were both a lot younger back then, Pearl was I want to say maybe only triple my size then? But she was playful and had an odd, but effective way of teaching me. Honestly, I’d love to have her teach me still, but false being able to speak to me uh, well in my language-.” He did a soft cringing expression. “No- offense?” The Mers spoke. Grian couldn’t guess what, but none looked angry, so he continued. “But it worked well for me. She definitely still caught on quicker than I did. I suppose at the time, I didn’t realize how important that would be.” The eel said something but then the wrasse splashed him. Banana spoke again, smiling and showing off his sharp teeth. Grian wasn’t sure if it was a threat or not. The wrasse splashed him again, once the water fell back into the ocean the Eel shot at Stripe. The claws missed but he pushed off the sand, his back was to Grian, but the avian could make out the eel’s jaws sliding over the small mer.

The avian tensed at that. Banana turned back, facing Grian proudly, arms sticking out his lips. The avian’s wings puffed up, he could feel the blood draining from his face, worsened by the body of stripe moving around poking at the cheeks with what he guessed was its tail. It didn’t matter though as the eel slurped its arms in. Grian could see the cleaner shrimp mer was attempting to walk away, but the eel did too. Its tail shot out blocking it from the sea. It swallowed, sucking the squirming Wrasse down before turning to talk to Shrimpy.

Grian turned away this time before the eel’s mouth slid over the shrimp, he heard a swallow and looked back, tail still sticking out the mouth, it likely didn’t attempt to swallow it yet. The avian’s head turned as he could hear the faint angry yells of the wrasse. Another swallow came silencing Him and the eel sucked the shrimp down as well, there was a much more visible lump in its throat from it. Most likely it was forced into a ball or decided to curl up. Some more swallows came, the large mer’s head in the water while doing it, sucking water down, likely to help swallow the cleaners in him. Weren’t you supposed to avoid eating them though? The eel then turned to Grian, a tongue ran over its lips. Grian fell backward from his shaky legs and shook his head side to side saying no, having lost his voice. In his mind he screamed for his dumb body to move, why wasn’t he moving? The eel pressed forward, sliding under the water to wet itself before, digging a hand into the sand and, pulling itself towards Grian.

The avian finally moved his legs and accidentally kicked sand at the eel, frantically trying to push himself away from its mouth.

The eel spat out the sand, and Grian made out a growl before it pulled itself over him. It lowered its chest on the avian trapping him before licking his face playfully.

Grian pushed at the eel's chest with his feet, and his face with his hands. The mer chuckled though and licked across Grian’s face more.

The avian moved his face to the side, and soon after warm breath moved over his cheeks. Grian’s eyes moved to look, and he soon let out a loud screech just before Banana’s mouth slid over his head.

He kicked at the eel’s chest with his feet. The tongue moved around its mouth, licking Grian’s face and neck. Grian himself had shut his eyes to keep them from getting licked, using his head he thrashed it around trying to get the mer to spit him out. It wasn’t working, instead banana had started licking at grian’s neck making the avian peep in distress. Hearing it Banana paused most of his body movements, though after a swallow, one to drain the spit from its mouth, the eel moved more of itself over Grian. Grian now whipped his wings up splashing sand over the two of them. The mer grumbled and gently grabbed the avian's wings, and then the kingfisher's arms. He forced them down, but not hard, not hurting grian at all. The avian chirped loudly in distress, The eel kept on though, sending more and more of the bird hybrid in. It stopped as Grian’s face neared the back of its mouth. The avian could make out the throat moving with the small amount of breathing the mer could muster out of the water. He flung up more sand around them, though he could feel the ground slipping away from under him. He let out more panicked noises as his feet felt air. Banana wasn’t swallowing him what-. Grian felt himself gently dragged out, Banana using his tongue to make sure He couldn’t be cut by his teeth. Once out the avian saw a hand, then he turned to who it was. It was the arm to another mer, a black-tipped reef- SHARK! The avian peeped his wings flapping wildly. It surprised the shark, but it still put Grian down lightly. It then turned its attention to the noodle of a fish, Banana, scolding him it seems. It mentioned something though that surprised the Eel as it turned with an apologetic look to Grian. It warbled something back at the shark who put it down. After some pushing and gagging from the eels half the two cleaners were pushed up and out into the shallows with a small splash. Both were fine, none angry or scared even. Not that Grian could tell at least. Stripe did shout something, but when he saw Grian’s expression it shifted, before turning back to Banana and Bapping his face gently. The shark slowly turned to face Grian. Unlike the ones he had met before it seemed gentle, a soft frown on its face, teeth not showing. It asked something to him, or started to as it stopped realizing Grian couldn’t understand it. It then used its hands, a finger pointing at Grian before asking “O-K?” The avian nodded slowly before looking nervously at the Eel. The eel had Stripe in its hands, Stripe was reaching his hands into Banana’s mouth but the larger seemed uneasy. Grian nervously looked back at the shark who did the motion he learned meant safe. He looked between the two of them, before a slow nod, but Grian decided he’d take a break, it was getting hot out anyway.

#safe vore #soft vore #mcyt g/t #mcyt vore #hermitvore #tw vore #hermitcraft vore #mermaid vore #Storm stories #sfw vore #Banana is Tango #Stripe is Skizz #And Shrimpy is Zedaph #just in case people are curious #Grian just doesn't know their names #oh yeah and Black tip reef is Impulse #seaspeaker #sea speaker #Sea speaker

38 notes · View notes

mudisgranapat · 11 months ago

Text

III. Where the sun doesn't reach

Word count: 3,2 k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader Content: zombie apocalypse, children, enemies to lovers, slow burn

Taglist: @poohkie90 @gaida-511 @synthe4u @beebeechaos Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Note: Sorry it took so long to update, I'll try to be more consistent. This one was hard to write because there is a lot of information i needed to put out there and i wanted to make sure it made sense. if it doesn't, please let me know so i can explain better on the next chapter. Enjoy :)

There was something alien about seeing life growing in a rotting world. Her soft baby skin was a contrast to everyone around her, who wore their skins dirty, scarred, and calloused. He hadn’t truly noticed the baby at first. He had seen her, because soldiers like him were trained to see everything: a child, around a year old, with dark hair and dark eyes.

As the Humvee hit a bumpy road, he noticed how her curly brown hair was secured in place by two pink elastic bands, the locks on the pigtails moving side to side. She held a pink stuffed dolphin with her chubby hands and swung her feet, making the pink socks go back and forth. She wore a pink jumper that seemed a number too big and was covered in drawings of pink unicorns and rainbow clouds. In Simon’s opinion, it was an obscene amount of pink. He didn’t know if he was more astounded by the combination or by the fact that it had been put together in the middle of an apocalypse.

Her eyes were hazel, and they bore into Simon’s skull with innocence he thought he would never see again. Especially in a vehicle like that, made for war and destruction. They sat on the back of it, on the seats that faced each other, like he used to do when going on missions, and ‘odd’ didn’t even begin to describe seeing Cami there. Cami. It felt weird to know her name when all the other boys didn’t. Like it was their secret to share. As if she could read his mind, Cami giggled, somehow not fazed by his mask. He was used to people cowering in front of him, children hiding behind their mothers and peeking at him from behind their legs. The opposite seemed to apply to the baby in front of him, as she grinned showing her scarce teeth.

“Stop staring at my baby.” He rolls his eyes, redirecting his stare to her with a new layer of hardness. The woman looked like she was in her early twenties, but she spoke with the authority of someone who had lived a dozen lives. Her nose and cheeks were covered in scarce freckles from the sun exposure, and her hair was tied in a ponytail, with loose strands now matted to her face in dried blood. Unlike Cami, she hadn’t escaped the crash unscathed. There was a large gash on her forehead from when she probably hit her face on the steering wheel, now covered in gaze from the medkit. Her lip was split and her nose bleeding. During the crash, the instrument panel from the car had collapsed, causing a gnarly knee injury. “Stop staring at me”. He didn’t. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t mind Ghost. He does that sometimes.” Johnny said in a joking tone, but lightly kicked Simon’s foot, secretly telling him to quit it. “I think it’s about time we do some proper introductions around here, don’t you think?” She gives him a small smile of approval, moving Cami in her arms. “My name is John McTavish, but you can call me Johnny or Soap, since the old man behind the wheel is also John. We usually call him by his last name, Price. Or Captain, but I feel like that won’t be exactly your vibe”

“I’m not old, Johnny.” Price says behind the wheel with a sigh.

“Sure, Grandpa.” Soap retorts, and Price lets another defeated sigh, focusing back on the road. Y/N laughs, and Cami laughs too, even though she has no idea what she is laughing at.

“I’m Kyle Garrick, but you can call me Gaz. We still use our callsigns from when we served together.” He explains, poking his tongue out at Cami and making her laugh even more. This time, she even claps, letting her pink dolphin fall to the floor. She immediately frowns. Not even the car crash had been able to separate her from the toy, her little hands crushing it as she cried in the backseat, and now her face was starting to contort like the crying was going to start again.

Simon reaches out to it at the same time Y/N does, but grabs it first due to his longer arms. “Ghost.” He introduces himself shortly, looking her in the eye. Neither of them breaks eye contact until Cami stretches her hands out towards the toy.

“Dodo!” she screams, shaking a demanding hand in front of Simon. He’s taken aback by the sound of her voice, not expecting her to be able to talk. He hands her the dolphin and she gives him a big smile. He smiles behind the mask in return, a secret infatuation that he buries under the skull. He notices her gaze on him now, studying his reaction, and he has the urge to say ‘Stop staring at me’.

“Kamila is just learning how to talk”. At the mention of her name, she turns her head to Y/N, and shows her the stuffed animal with excitement. Kami wasn’t the only one to hang onto her personal belongings; Y/N had managed to grab a backpack she had taken with her from the house. “She is a bit shy, but once she gets used to you she can be quite the talker, although most of it is in her own language.”

“It’s a beautiful name. Suits her well.” Soap says, smiling at them.

“It’s Arabic, spelled with a K. Means ‘perfect’.” She kisses Kami on her nose. “What about ‘Soap’? What does it mean?”

“Let’s just say I’m pretty good at what I do. Clean with it.” He says with a smug grin on his face. “What about you? Any nicknames?”

“Well, there was a crackhead near my house that used to call me ‘strawberry’, because I liked to wear red lipstick. Until one day I got hit by a bicycle in front of him so he changed it to ‘smoothie’, since ‘I got mushed’.” She says using air quotes.

Soap and Gaz burst out in laughter and Simon snorts, holding in his laugh out of ego. Price is too focused on the radio with Laswell to listen, probably debriefing her about what happened and the new addition to the group. “Peaceful neighborhood, I see”. Gaz tries to recompose, while the Scot is still doubled over, slapping his own knee. “Whereabouts did you live?”

“At that time, Liverpool, but I moved around a lot. My mother was a Journalist.” Her voice sounded distant at the last part. For most people, it was hard to talk about the past. They had lives that were worth living and never thought that they would have to watch it slip through their fingers. In that sense, being a soldier made things easier. They were always ready to pack their lives into one bag, and most of them had made peace with the thought that they might not come home whenever they stepped foot on the tarmac. Others, like Simon, didn’t have a home to come back to and found solace in the nomad nature of the profession. She coughs in an attempt to clear her voice and continues. “I followed in her footsteps, so that’s how I ended up here. I was investigating a corruption scandal in the Government.”

“Always chasing a story. Is that how you got in trouble with the Resistance?” Gaz was good at getting information out of people. Like Price, he had a trusting face and a calming voice that quickly tore down people’s walls.

Although Y/N had been previously reluctant to share information about her past, she knew that she didn’t have a choice now. They had saved her life and jumped into the crossfire to rescue her and Kami. She owed them answers. Taking a deep breath and rearranging Kamila in her arms, she starts talking. “When the first people got infected, I got curious. The story I had been writing had come to a halt after my main source stopped cooperating with the investigation, so I had been looking for a break. The virus seemed unrelated at first, but interesting enough to write a story about. So I started digging and came across some familiar names. The people I had been investigating for corruption had been dislocating funds from the Government for an unsanctioned project on biological weapons.”

The Humvee was quiet, except for the sound of the engine and Y/N’s voice. She looked at Kami again, now fast asleep in her arms. There was a softness in her eyes that Simon yearned for in his darkest thoughts. He dreamed of caring eyes that pulled him out of his nightmares, only to wake up alone, drenched in sweat. During nights like that, he would pour a glass of moonshine and sit on the old kitchen chair in the base. Time would pass as he stared at the glass, each second increasing the burning in his lungs. He ached to scream, to punch, to tackle the thoughts that tormented him and sink a knife in its gut. But he couldn’t, so he would just sit and stare at the alcohol-filled glass, imagining the liquid burning down his throat and numbing the ache in his chest. He would then get up and empty the glass on the sink, because the only thing he could hate more than himself was his father. He relished watching the moonshine go down the drain, a small victory in his demise, a promise that he would never become the man who buries his sorrow with glasses of booze.

“I found a guy willing to talk to me. His name was Eric Rhodes, a brilliant scientist. He had been working on the project but got fired for asking the wrong questions. He thought that the virus he had been working on before he got sacked was the same one that was turning people into… Well, zombies. I guess that’s the technical term for it. At first, I thought it was just some conspiracy theory, you know? The guy gets angry because he got fired and needs to find someone to blame. But then he showed me solid leads, names, and notes he had been able to keep, detailing what he was doing in the lab.”

“Did you believe in him?” Price asks from the front, now engaged in the story. Laswell had the same theory, that the apocalypse was a result of a biological weapon gone wrong, but hadn’t been able to prove it. Not that it would change a thing: they were already doomed, and whoever was to blame was probably dead by now.

“I didn’t, in the beginning. But after he showed me the documents… Yeah, I did. He stopped talking to me after that. I figured he got scared that I was going to rat him out. The virus was spiraling out of control by then, so I decided to reach out to him while the phones still worked.” She pauses, looking at Kami again as if to check that she is still safe in her arms. “His younger brother, Killian, picked up the phone. Told me they had sent someone to kill Eric, burn his house down with all the evidence. He said Eric had told him about me and asked for us to meet. He wanted to know more about the reason his brother was killed.”

“Killian Rhodes. That’s the guy who started the Resistance.” Simon points out in a low voice. He knows his tone is suggestive, that she is way deeper into this than they had previously thought. The silence is palpable in the atmosphere by that point.

“Yes. He did. It wasn’t all bad in the beginning.” Simon scoffs and leans back on his seat. Her voice is more pleading now, trying to resonate with them. “Killian wanted to avenge his brother. I told him about the virus, and how Eric thought it was a biological weapon built by the Government. It was never meant to turn into this, I know it’s not what he wanted.”

“You’re defending him? He tried to kill you. He sent people out to kill you and your kid!” Soap shook his head, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Killian died protecting me and our daughter!” Her eyes were glossy, but she refused to cry. She was determined not to show any weakness. “Don’t you dare try and blame this on him.” Her tone was angry and bitter. It wakes up Kami, and she tries to put her back to sleep, but to no avail.

“Mommy sad?”

“No, mommy is fine, love. Go back to sleep.” But she doesn’t, alarmed now, looking at her mom with worried eyes. Gaz, Soap, and Simon also look at her, surprised by the revelation that Killian Rhodes is Kamila’s father. But she doesn’t give them time to digest the new information. “We made it to the first quarantine zone together, when things started to get bad. Killian had always been good at convincing people, talking about how the government was dirty and that they were better off on their own. With the rations and the way the soldiers were treating people, it didn’t take long before an insurgence was formed. We took them over and that’s when we started the Resistance.”

We. Simon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wanted to laugh and say ‘I told you so’ to Johnny, but the disbelief on the Seargent’s face was satisfying enough for him. If they thought they were helping an innocent girl, they were wrong. They were harboring the founder of the most prominent and deadly rebellion created in the apocalypse. Not that they were sophisticated criminals before, but they had caused enough trouble to get their reputation: either you were with them, or against them. And now they seemed to be more keen on that policy than ever.

Price stops the car, looking at the backseats through the rearview mirror. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” Simon recognized that tone, and it meant that whoever it was directed to was in deep shit.

She huffs. “I never asked for you to take me in. In fact, if I remember correctly, I was dragged here.” She gives Simon a pointed look, that aggravates him even more.

“Then leave.” Simon stares her down. “But you won’t, will you? You know you don’t stand a chance against them on your own, so start talking.” His voice is low and threatening. He doesn’t look at Kami when he speaks. He knows his voice would falter.

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head, looking at the ceiling, trying to find shelter from the prying eyes that stare at her. “People started coming in from other quarantine zones, escaping totalitarian groups and ill-intended people. Other communities began to rise, but they weren’t as strong as we were. They wanted to weaken the Resistance so they spread word that Killian’s brother, Eric, was the one that created the virus. It drove him crazy. His brother had died trying to find the truth and now people were blaming him, trying to use his brother to taint his name. We were forced to step down and give up everything we had built. There was too much invested in the Resistance, too many people with too much to lose. Leadership changed, and we had to sit back and watch as what we stood for was deprived of its meaning. We just wanted to help people. We thought we could stop what would come next but we were wrong.”

“You killed people before that.” John said in a stern voice.

“That was different. We didn’t start battles, we were forced into them. You can’t blame us for fighting back. There is no revolution without war.” She shifts Kamila in her arms again. “For fuck’s sake, you were in the army. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don’t act like you haven’t done worse.” She says the last sentence looking directly at Simon. This time, he looks away. He knows he has done worse, much worse. For some reason, the fact that she would assume that of him hurts.

“You did more than fight back. We’ve heard about what the Resistance has done.” Simon wants to hurt her back, remind her that no one gets to be innocent their whole life.

“That was after Killian and I were forced to step down. We didn’t know what was going on. We thought that the foundation that we had built would be strong enough to last after we were gone, but things changed completely”

“Look, lass. We want to believe you. We really do. But you have to be honest with us.” Sometimes Simon wants to grab Johnny by the shoulders and shake him, so he would stop being so trusting, so willing. But it is also the reason why they became friends in the first place. Soap never judged him, as broken as he was. Whether he was Simon or Ghost, Soap would crack jokes and share a pint, and for that he was grateful.

“When we were forced to leave the leadership, Lawrence took over. He was ruthless and thought that the Resistance should be more than a safe harbor for people. Those are the stories you have heard, of civilians killing each other for no reason. We didn’t know how bad it was for the people outside, how Lawrence had been looking for groups and attacking them, forcing them to join the Resistance or killing them. He had no purpose, no direction, he just wanted power and he kept us blind to it all.”

“I’ve heard of Lawrence. He was killed.” Price’s voice still carries a somber tone.

“I left right after that. He had been talking about how they were finally going to rise to their full potential, about how the Resistance was going to control what was left of the world. He was delusional, talking about how they were going to have enough firepower to kill whoever stood in their way. Killian and I knew we needed to leave by then, that the principles we had stood for were long gone and now the Resistance was just a power-thirsty militia. We only understood how serious things were when the military group arrived. They killed Lawrence and took control of what was left. Killian sacrificed his life so I could run away with Kami.”

“But why are they after you and Kami?” Price pressed further. “Why would a military group want to kill two civilians?”

“Because I’m the only one who knows their identity and their plans. I ran away with documents that could compromise them, photos and names of who operates the Resistance now.” She gestures towards the backpack that she had salvaged from the crash.

“Why would they take over the Resistance but want to hide their identity? That makes no sense” Simon inquires, still skeptical of the story.

“Because they like to operate in the dark. That’s why they call themselves The Shadow Company.”

me writing that plot twist: 🤭😝🤓

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you

133 notes · View notes

namu-the-orca · 21 days ago

Note

Do you have any advice on how to begin drawing a cetacean? When I'm drawing terrestrial animals, I can break them down into simpler shapes pretty easily, but cetaceans are just Big Tubes and I'm completely stumped on how to start

(Disclaimer that my work is rather stylised, so I'm not looking for advice on photorealism! Just any advice you have in general. I admire your ability to understand and render these sausage-bodied beasts)

Hi! That's an interesting question. I have to admit I had to draw a couple of dolphins first to see how I actually deal with them when free-handing lol. So much of my work as of late is scientific illustration, where in many cases I can build upon my own older illustrations. The new pieces are always 100% new, but correcting a base - however poor - is easier than starting from scratch.

Before I go any further let me stress the eternal importance of references. I can draw a dolphin fine from memory but for it to be actually accurate I need references. I always use them. Especially when it comes to weird poses or angles, but even for illustrations I will reference 25-50 photographs. Use them, study them, find them. They are a resource not a cheat.

Also, years ago I actually started work on a whole series of dolphin drawing tutorials. Or rather, collections of notes and tips for different topics (anatomy, differences between males and females, colouration, variation). Looking at the files now I see I had actually written and drawn a frightening amount already. Perhaps I should try to finish them? Is that something people would be interested in? Anyway, it starts off with a word of encouragement, which I do want to share here:

Actual advice is below the cut:

ONTO METHODS - illustrations

I found that for me, my method depends on whether I'm making an illustration or a full scene painting. For illustrations - which are in flat side view - I actually embrace the sausage. I drew a dolphin for you and saved the steps of how I go about it.

And this is the first. I start with a sort of flat-bottomed airfoil shape, and then add fins and a beak in approximate locations.

Next is refining the appendages and giving a face. Shape and placement of appendages as well as eye and mouth line is all experience and/or reference work.

Then comes fixing what I messed up lol. I always make the head too big first try (would have been good for a baby dolphin though!). Using cutting/transforming/moving selections around I correct proportions to what feels correct to me (again, that part comes from having seen and drawn a lot of dolphins).

Add some markings and hooray we have a spinner dolphin! This is the part where I would seriously start consulting references to check all the details and proportions are in order. If you don't need (photo)realism you can skip that step and use refs further back in the process just to get the shape/idea/colour of the species you're trying to paint right.

MORE METHODS - for different poses

When it comes to dynamic poses, my workflow is completely different. I just start from the nose and build my dolphin from there. Because as said above, they do have anatomy. And I think the way the beak flows into the cheek, the eye bumps connect, then the curve of the throat, the attachment of the pectoral fin, the way the belly curved up towards the genital region, the slight bulge behind that, then the muscles of the peduncle which flow into the flukes - I think the relations between those separate parts are enough for me?

These are the little dolphins (and a porpoise) I sketched from memory. In all cases I started from the tip of the nose and built from there, with minimal or no adjustments/erasing along the way. It was very much outline work. Details on eyes, mouth, etc, would come later. The killer whale is a bit different and got way more detailed than the rest. With such a front view angle I do use some spherical shapes to break it down for the body and face.

Otherwise I've never really liked or used the method of breaking an animal down into shapes, it never felt logical or intuitive to me. My "method" (if you can call it that lol) just comes from having drawn a lot of dolphins. I don't know if it is necessarily helpful when you want to get a grasp of them when starting out. Regardless I do hope this answered your question somewhat and you could get something useful out of it!

Also, I realise now I mostly talked about "standard "dolphins - for whales/short-beaked smaller cetaceans/etc my process is mostly the same, except their heads just have different shapes.

#namtalk #tutorial #sort of?#i always wish I had a clearer answer to these kinds of questions!#but i do hope this is still helpful #seeing those old tutorials also really makes me want to finish them #so many projeeccctttssss

32 notes · View notes

cheriladycl01 · 16 days ago

Text

Quirk #4

Here is my fourth quirk idea! Feel free to use this in your fanfics (just give me credit if you directly got it from me) obviously I know however I’m not the only creative person in the world and that some people may have also had these ideas before me!

Quirk: Manifestation of Illustration

This quirk could work two ways.

Number 1 where’d she’d be similar to Tamaki where the illustrations on her body can manifest onto her. So if she had a tiger tattoo she can get tiger ability’s or turn into one.

Number 2 would be that she can bring to life ‘manifest’ anything drawn by her or on her. So it would kind of work like Megumi from Jujitsu Kaisen Demon Dogs do, mixed with Momo’s creation abilities. She has dogs tattooed on her. She can send them out as scouts. She has a dagger drawn on her, she can make it into a real dagger to use etc.

Or both if you want her OP (one can be like a quirk awakening later down the book?)

This entails:

- Objects Creation

- Object Morphing

- Animal Characteristics etc

Weaknesses

- Can only use a certain amount of ink at one time. The ink is kind of like blood to her if she looses too much ink, she will faint or pass out.

- If a tattoo is destroyed, like a dagger is snapped or a deck of cards is burned she will feel that in her body.

- If an object manifested gets lost on the real world she can’t ever tattoo over it again or use that object again.

- She can’t use it like Tamakis quirk where he can choose which bit of his body changes into what he ate. For girlie it’s all or nothing so she either turns fully into the animal tattooed on herself or she can only use their characteristics (echolocation from a dolphin, strength from a dung beetle etc)

- if she doesn’t have it tattooed she has to spend time drawing it on paper, and when she’s rushing her artistic skills can falter (she’s learned this from traumatising experiences)

Strengths

- As long as she has a tattoo of it she can pretty much manifest anything into existence. (Her classmates or prohero friends would joke about ‘useless tattoos’ until they find out it’s something they need)

- Because of the ease when it comes to drawing weapons she trained to learn how to not solely rely on her quirk, so she’s actually able to use the weapons effectively that she draws.

- very powerful quirk, top 5 hero kinda powerful.

Hero Name:

The Embodiment Hero: Bodice

Zodiac: Leo

Ethnic Background: French / Japanese

Height: 5ft 8

Weight: 134ibs

Style: Tomboy

Physical Traits: Lots of tattoos everywhere and they get more random the more you look.

Mannerisms: She rolls her eyes all the time, you compliment her, expect and eye roll, you tell her you’ve just killed five citizens and her cousin was one of them, expect an eye roll, her food comes out wrong at a restaurant, expect and eye roll.

Favourite:

Food: Coq au Vin

Drink: Champagne

Colour: Grey

Weather: Snow

Possession: Dagger

Morning Routine:

She has two diaries, one where she’ll draw out how she thinks and expects her day to go and then another one where it’s how it actually went.

Hobbies:

Painting and Hikes

Special Skills:

Drawing duh!

Pet Peeves:

Chatty Strangers

Bad At:

Opening up to people, bit of a closed book!

Biggest Fear:

Her ability to draw one day going, or not enjoying it anymore.

Greatest Flaw:

She’s a massive smoker!

Goals:

To eradicate the need for a hero society (ie no large scale villains means no need for hero’s)

Who I see them with:

Guys - HAWKS, Denki

Girls - MS JOKE , Kendo

39 notes · View notes

brucewaynehater101 · 7 months ago

Note

Deep down, Tim knows that they are at fault. Deep down he knows that Jason and Damian attacking him like that *isn't ok*. But that's a truth he can't bring himself to face because even if he did, would Anyone believe him? If he told Bruce or Dick that the attacks still happened, that one of them tried to take his life at least once a month still, that neither of them would do anything. Tim doesn't know if they would defend him and punish Jason and Damian, or if they would just say, "you need to be more careful Tim, they can't always control themselves." And if the answer is anything but the first he knows his heart wouldn't be able to take it.

Instincts are there, but they are easy to over come. They very from shifter type to shifter type and usually fall into groups by Animal Type. Such as a Tiger and a Housecat will have similar instinctive problems but they won't be the same as a Wolf or Dolphin's. As a snake Tim 100% has the urge to nap in warm places and does get slower when cold. His suit has special heaters in it that the others don't have due to his inability to regulate his own heat. Damian insists that Tim being unable to function without "a bunch of hand warmers" I'd proof that he shouldn't be in the field and should be fired. Tim bites his forked tongue to stop himself from screaming that if Damian can't not give into his instincts and attack Tim anytime he sees him Shifted then he shouldn't be in the field because he's gunna attack a civilian.

Also for now Bruce has no idea how shifters work. But this is Good Dad Bruce. He's going to put in Effort. He's *going* to find the resources he needs to parent this New Tim because he doesn't think he can bring himself to send any version of any of his children to a home that could hurt or likely kill them. Until then, Bruce is going to insist on New Tim (he gets called TJ thanks to Duke. After all, they can't call him Drake, he hates Timothy, Tim would be confusing, and neither Tim likes the idea of being called "Jackson") takes one of their spare rooms and gets a full 8 hours of sleep every night/day and 3 full meals a day. TJ was Visibly Confused by this due to the fact he hasn't been staying in the manor at all for almost a year due to Damian and Jason. He only sleeps in his nest which has Beyond Batlevel Security to keep them out.

Also, I can't decide. Would a healthier version of Damian and Jason stay away like Tim wants them to or would they go "no *fuck* your bastard excuses for Brothers we will teach you what it's like to actually trust and have us have your back."

Tim not seeking an answer or help is very angsty. He chose his emotional/mental health over his physical well being. Part of it may be him knowing how to navigate the murder attempts but not knowing how bringing this up would change the status quo (in possibly worse ways).

I like what you've added about Tim's instincts. A good milestone for that batfamily is if they find Tim napping on a window seat. This would be a huge show of trust by him and an indication that he feels safe.

I think a healthier version of them would give Tim space and communicate boundaries with him, but they would also try to bond with him.

For Damian, this is a lot of parallel bonding. The kid will find wherever Tim is in the Manor and sit in the same room with him doing something different (like drawing or doing his homework). It is an effective way for Tim to get used to his presence and stop seeing him as a threat. Of course, Tim is nervous or on edge the first 10 or so times this happens. Eventually, he starts to lower his guard enough that Damian can make a comment or two. They slowly work up to full conversations and Tim seeking out Damian's presence himself.

For Jason, he'd try to read in places near Tim as well. His main strategy, though, might be favors or gifts. He'd learn what foods Tim likes, what activities Tim wants/needs to do that Bruce won't let him (like sneaking out), and generally just helping Tim out in small ways. It at first freaks Tim out, but they work up to Tim himself asking Jason for favors.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au #damian wayne #jason todd

77 notes · View notes

dr-spectre · 6 months ago

Note

You mentioned something about Splatoon 4 thoughts earlier today, and I really wanna hear you ramble about that. But I also really wanna listen to you ramble about a Hypno Callie rewrite lmao. So if you haven't already, since there's a good chance I missed it lol, what would a Spectre Hypno Callie rewrite look like?

OH DUDE NOW YOU'RE GETTING ME ALL PUMPED UP TEHEHEHEHE! ITS TIME FOR ME TO RAMBLE!!! Imma go ultra autism on you!!! It's gonna border on fanfiction territory! (Not the creepy or romantic kind...) Don't say that I didn't warn you...

Splatoon 4 Ideas.

Now here's the thing right. I only have a few ideas on a Splatoon 4 so I don't think I can do a giant ramble about it yet. But so far I got the idea of Splatoon 4 taking place in a giant futuristic city near the beach. So you get this cool plaza area near the beach and I got that idea from the AMAZING Project Splatoon 3. Seriously go check that out, it is amazing!!!!!!!

But you can also go into the city and explore some of it. And you can ride a bike to different shops and have your own apartment!!! I know people want apartments for the next game and yeah I agree. We NEED an apartment maker, it's the next logical step from lockers!

Also for weapons... I would LOVE to have a flamethrower weapon but instead of fire it's mist. A crank operated shooter made out of bike gears where you gotta keep spamming the ZR button, kind of like the Octoshower's weapon. A Wii Zapper charger!!! PLEASE NINTENDO! A saw blade Splatana. Maybe a pool noodle Inkbrush? That would be funny. Maybe a Painbrush that has a fan on it? Man... I'm starting to sound like Sheldon HAHAHA!

For the new Idols, it would be a duo instead of a 3 Idol group because oh my god 3 team Splatfests are so unbalanced sometimes. They would have the colors red and cyan. I don't have much on what they would look like, but I imagine one of them is a female Inkling with a cyan color and the other is a male octoling with a red color. It's time we have a proper God damn male Idol that isn't a giant manta ray!!! Now since I cannot draw for shit and I don't have the desire to draw (drawing has made me so angry so multiple times so I stick to writing and rambling) so I'll just show some pics to show you what kind of vibe I'm going for.

(Yes I'm not fucking joking. I've gotten inspiration from Silver the Hedgehog and Spider-Punk...)

I think it would be an interesting dynamic to have a fancy, highly teched out character paired up with a grungy and punk character who's loud and funny. I can imagine their music to be futuristic and techno while including segments of rock. Basically techno rock with romantic elements in it.

I would like some quality of life improvements and just general improvements as well, like being able to customize EVERY part of your look without having to go through that annoying character creation menu in the crater. Faster levelling up for abilities, ability drinks and food actually giving you which ability you want instead of a chance at it. Way more pants and a pants shop. WAY MORE hairstyles, eye colors with an option to select from a color wheel, eyebrows, scar and tattoo options too with a new tattoo vendor. (the tattoos are explained in game to be temporary ones even though they secretly aren't, to make sure parents don't get the wrong idea lmao)

Maybe some gameplay tweaks too? like including very slight momentum when going downhill? It has to be very slight though for balance. I would like to add a dolphin dive like mechanic where if you press the jump button in the air in your swimming form, you'll quickly stomp to the ground, and that speed will be carried over when swimming in ink for a little while. Maybe faster horizontal wall swimming too? Basically make the gameplay a little bit faster is all I'm trying to say, Splatoon doesn't need a giant gameplay overhaul, just small tweaks to make the last game seem worse to play lmao.

And of course, BETTER SERVERS! WE NEED DEDICATED SERVERS! NOW!!!!!!!!!!! EVEN IF ITS JUST A FEW IT'LL BE SOOOOOO HELPFUL! STOP BEING STUPID NINTENDO! GOD!

Um... anyways!

Now, in terms of story.... I would have 3 parts, one is the main campaign while the other two are DLC. The main campaign is focused on the Salmonids. You play as a new agent (Agent X or something, i think that's a cool name) as you explore these islands Super Mario 64 style where you do missions and try and stop the Salmonids from getting out of control as they gone on a rampage from an unknown cause. You have to complete enough missions on an island to go to the next.

Basically, think of Salmon Run maps and areas found in Mario games but they are WAY LARGER and more complex areas to go through with NPCs to talk to. I really want Splatoon 4 to expand on the concepts found in the hub worlds in Alterna and go fully into a 3D Mario sandbox style game.

You also have to team up with Frye, Big Man, Neo Agent 3 and Marie who join up with a new cast of characters who are in charge of guiding you to new islands (haven't thought much about what these characters are) to figure out what's going on. Callie doesn't appear in the story as it's explained in a Sunken Scroll that Callie is helping Octavio figure out what to do with the Fuzzy Octarians that are still trapped in Alterna. And yes Octavio has now fully joined the New Squidbeak Splatoon which Callie is very ecstatic about.

Cuttlefish is fully retired and doesn't appear, and Captain is taking a break from captain duties, leaving Marie to watch over Frye and Big Man as she is their boss anyways. Now, where is Shiver in all this? Well... here me out... she's the villain. And no she doesn't have any sort of bullshit evil headgear on. She's a villain due to being corrupted by greed and wanting more power. She has become addicted to the high she gets from winning and feeling powerful and has teamed up with the Salmonids to gain even more power and cash. She's been fully consumed by power and cash and Frye and Big Man are not on board with her plans as Shiver doesn't wanna give back to the people in Splatsville anymore. So Shiver leaves the group and gathers up the Salmonids and commands them.

However it's revealed that Shiver is doing these things because she had a bad family upbringing in her clan and was always talked down to and treated as weak. So all that trauma and resentment is finally on the surface and Shiver is lashing out at everyone because her pain is so much for her. There could be some themes about found families and healing trauma with the people that you love and stuff like that. Haven't thought too deeply about it. But I would really love to see Deep Cut forgive Shiver and just hug and cry it out. I'll cry alongside them lol.

Now, the second story is focused on the Squid Sisters and takes place before the events of the main campaign. You play as Agent 4 and Callie finds you lying on the floor and tells you that Inkopolis Plaza has been covered in a strange fog and a weird green substance that looks like gooey moss. The buildings have changed and there's all this weird plant life and dust everywhere. Callie escorts you to the tower found in Inkopolis Plaza to figure out where Marie went and that's where you meet Octavio who got shot down in his mech from a laser.

The three go inside and the building looks very similar to the aesthetics of Side Order but with a hospital liminal space edge to it. It looks like a twisted dream hospital environment with a giant lobby in the middle.

This kind of vibe but more open and less hallway like. It should invoke the feeling of going to a hospital as a kid.

However, instead of an elevator to go higher, it's a giant spiraling staircase that grows after each floor Agent 4 completes. Basically the gameplay is the same as the rogue like gameplay found in Side Order but its heavily expanded upon with new enemies, objectives, color chips, etc. However... during the first 12 floors you hear these weird whispers and voices that sound very similar to Marie's voice.... Callie says she's getting major Deja Vu, and then Marie's voice is fully clear and echoes throughout the building, telling Callie in specific to leave her alone and to get out of here. They don't listen and continue forward.

When you reach the 12th floor, you go inside a giant white chamber and you see Marie in a new outfit that's similar to this outfit found in the Splatoon 2 artbook. Basically this but with a cool cloak and squid tentacle patterns on it and a gas mask instead of shades.

She's standing on some kind of green gooey moss and looks angry. Marie attacks Agent 4 with her charger and its a stealth boss where you gotta sneak around and get up to Marie and knock her down from the moss pile. Evil Marie has always been a beloved fan concept in the community, like Hypno Marie has so many cool fan designs out there and i think that could work honestly.

Callie manages to knock the mask off of Marie with a splat bomb but she's still angry. Callie grabs onto Marie and Marie calms down and cries. Agent 4 looks at the gas mask and its just filled with regular oxygen, nothing special about it. No hypnosis gas or anything. Just regular oxygen... Marie says she's sorry and explains that stuff from her past is catching up to her and making her unwell (you can guess on what I'm referring to wink wink.) She was unable to sleep for several days and was being manipulated by someone...

The thing behind Marie's manipulation appears from the ceiling and it's this giant white metallic squid that has transparent glass on some of it's body and arms, which shows this bright green goo flowing inside it. (think of Overlorder but he's a squid). I don't have a lot of information for this guy but this villain was created to cure Fuzzy Octarians, but due to unknown circumstances it went out of control and its coding was changed to "heal" people's pain by covering the planet in a modified and twisted version of Marie's low tide ink which now has evolved to be very similar to plant life. This goo/ink neutralizes certain parts of the brain, leaving the victim completely unfeeling and depressed, unable to feel anything, even physical touch or sensation. The villain manipulated Marie by going inside her head, analyzing her memories and telling her that all she has to is to get rid of "the intruders" and he will "heal her pain."

After the Marie boss fight, you have to travel up to 40 floors instead of 30 and during the downtime you get to learn about the Squid Sisters. Stuff like Callie and Marie before they blew up, who came up with their outfits, more info about their parents and managers, Marie talking about how she has trauma and nightmares from the events of Splatoon 2 and is terrified that one day Callie may leave and never come back again, Callie diving into her time in the Octo Canyon and finally clearing up what happened to her, Octavio showing remorse and sorrow for the actions he has done over the past 100 years. Basically Side Order but with the Squid Sisters, Octavio and Agent 4. I know it's a lot like Side Order but Side Order is so damn good so why not do it again but improve upon the gameplay you know?

That's all I got for this story and it's probably gonna change and be tweaked over time.

Now for the third story of Splatoon 4. I barely have anything for this but it will star the new Idol duo of the game, Off the Hook, Eight and Captain. I think it'll be like Octo Expansion in terms of gameplay and difficulty, but also expanded and longer to complete.

OKAY! NO MORE SPLATOON 4! TIME TO TALK ABOUT HYPNO CALLIE!

Hypno Callie Rewrite.

Honestly, the way I would go about rewriting Hypno Callie is very simple... Remove the Hypnoshades. That's it. She can still have them as an aesthetic part of her outfit, but i would make it so Callie is no longer hypnotized and it's WAY MORE clear to the audience that Callie is suffering from mental illness and that she left with the Octarians, not "kidnapped, overpowered and brainwashed into being a mind controlled slave." Splatoon 2 was always about the separation of the Squid Sisters and their eventual healing and reunion, it was always gonna be about that but due to time constraints probably, they rushed it and introduced bullshit shades to make it easier and simpler, they then tried to fix it later with an obscure post with a relationship chart that no one even fucking talks about, even timeline explainers fail to fucking mention it... ugh...

Making Callie an actual antagonist that has been manipulated by Octavio, whispering to her and playing into her insecurities and pain is way more compelling and makes more sense for Octavio to do as a character. Like how the fuck did he come up with the Hypnoshades and why did he only use it on Callie? He can just make hypnosis tech out of nowhere? Huh? It makes way more sense for Octavio to just manipulate her as he is a master of words and propaganda.

So what I would do is introduce a new mandatory collectable in the Splatoon 2 Hero Mode called "Callie's diary." At certain moments in the campaign Agent 4 and Marie find pages from Callie's diary as she explains her feelings and pain from being overworked and feeling some resentment as Marie has stopped calling or texting her. Marie looks so ashamed and disappointed and starts blaming herself for Callie's disappearance. Some of the diary entries include the photos found in Sunken Scrolls 21 and 22. The last diary entry found in Sector 4 is an emotional rant from Callie the day she went missing. She rants about how she can't take working anymore and how she's so lonely. Her last line is "if no one truly cares for me up here... Then... Maybe..." And there's a small tear stain at the bottom of the page.

Now for the final boss, the main plot points would occur sorta the same way, you fight Octavio and Callie, after a bit Marie comes in and shoots her in the eye, Callie calms down, blah blah blah. I actually really do like the idea of the "low tide ink" that the English translation team introduced. I think it's a neat idea that Marie has this special ink that calms someone down so I'll keep that for the rewrite.

However, during the final boss, i would make it to where Marie is really trying to reach to Callie and trying to convince her that she is loved and she matters, she tries to apologize for her actions and explains that Octavio is just manipulating her for the Octarians' goals. Callie fights back and doesn't wanna listen to her, constantly trying to shut her down. Marie even reminds Callie of their childhood and it almost gets to Callie, but she becomes more emotional and angry, she's so confused because deep down she knows Marie is right, but she's so scared to listen to her because she doesn't want to get abandoned again.

However what really gets to Callie is Marie collapsing on her knees and crying, just begging her badly to come back to her. And Marie says "I love you...." Callie is in shock and starts getting flashes of good memories with her and Marie. She holds the shades in her hands and destroys them. Callie leaps into the air and collides into Marie's arms, and they cry their eyes out and say sorry to each other.

The battle plays out the same but i would like to add another cutscene after Octavio gets his shit kicked in, Callie and Marie are on Sheldon's van and they look at the sunset together. I think that would be really sweet and connect beautifully with the credits and Fresh Start.

I took a lot of inspiration from the game Marvel's Spider-Man 2 and two boss fights in particular. The Miles vs. Peter fight, and the Spider-Man vs. Scream/MJ fight. In those boss fights, it's sort of like a therapy session for the characters in that the people under the symbiote are venting about their issues and expressing their anger they have kept hidden for so long, and the person on the other side is trying desperately to reach for them and save them from themselves. It's really powerful shit honestly and it made me feel emotional seeing Peter go "ALL I WANTED WAS TO SAVE EVERYONE! MJ! MAY! NOW THE CITY THINKS I'M THE PROBLEM! you think I'm the problem." Like i know it's kind of crazy to take inspiration from a game made for adults and take some of it into Splatoon but... I really don't give a shit. Children's media can show powerful scenes of characters struggling with their inner demons. They can do it and have proven to be successful. Children can handle it, they can.

Now... i have worked on a Splatoon 2 finale rewrite and I'm pretty much almost done with it, i need to finish the last bit of it and then go over it again so I'm fully happy with it. However i don't know how to present it as it's in the form of a script and idk how that's gonna work on tumblr, i mean i could put it on AO3 but idk if i wanna make an account just to post one thing on there and idk how many scripts get posted onto AO3 anyways...

It's like I'm a chef and I'm cooking something, but there's no waiter to deliver the food lmao.

ANYWAYS! Thank you for reading my autistic ass ramblings! I got so much free time that i just so much of it just writing down fan concepts for things on different games and stuff (I have a 42 page and counting document on a potential Sonic Frontiers 2.) Yeah... I got THAT kind of autism, not the maths and science one... Again, thank you for reading!

62 notes · View notes