#my gift this new years is parasitism

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

PARASITISM- PAGE 5

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[lilianade-comics]

Stolen Sanguine World-Building Dump

@taptrial2 asked and ye shall receive. What follows is a mass information pit for my Vlad Cleavage AU Danny Phantom vampire AU, Stolen Sanguine. This post will just be about world-building, the storyline will be covered separately.

The time period and culture influences are deliberately vague, but it's pseudo-Victorian, pseudo-fantasy, pseudo-pre Industrial Rev with no consistent clothing styles beyond the vampires being obnoxiously slutty.

Vampires live among humans and the ones that live the longest and thrive the most are the rich and powerful, highly immoral ones. Common people who are turned and not willing to become gluttonous murderers are usually swiftly dispatched by hunters. Being turned involves intent on the part of the vampire, and venom is the agent. New vampires are not common or accidental (unless you're Danny) because in general vampires like the status quo and creating more competition for territory isn't in anyone's best interest. Vampire on vampire murders aren't common for the same reasons. Vlad, however, is an insane little freak and has killed his own kind before. To drastically paraphrase one notable instance is Aragon, who once decided he'd pick on the new guy in town by kidnapping his four year old and turning her into his vampire bride. Vlad stabbed Aragon about three dozen times, recovered Dani safe and sound, and no one has bothered them since.

Society is entering an era where the general populace at large is becoming more collectively aware of the existence of vampires and other paranormal folk and it's more difficult to work in the shadows than it used to be. Hunters are becoming more mainstream, and while vampires have always placed emphasis on securing wealth and power, it's now more critical to have those societal protections in place.

Generally speaking, vampires are almost exclusively loners and not social with each other. This is mostly because every vampire believes that other vampires are insufferable, and they are the singular delightful exception. Penelope Spectra, Vlad's neighbor and ally, is an outlier, as she is very social for a vampire and often holds parties. She herself lives with Bertrand, whom she turned some years ago.

The vampiric power system revolves around blood. By consuming human blood, vampires regularly renew their immortality and their enhanced strength and healing. Vampiric blood itself is also endowed with certain powers, as it remains tied to the soul of the vampire even after it leaves their body. There's a culture of blood jewelry given as gifts to favorite thralls as a mark of ownership.

To say vampires merely consume blood is to ignore the whole reality. It's not just the blood, it's what the blood contains, that is, the vitality or life of the individual. Every time a vampire feeds off of someone they consume a bit of that person's life and soul. It's an active parasitic relationship that brings only misery to the consumed. Animal blood will keep a vampire alive, but it won't grant them the powers they rely on and it won't fully satisfy their hunger. Danny is doing his best, but he's basically starving himself.

A human that a vampire frequently feeds on turns into a thrall. Thralls are sickly, clingy and basically brainwashed into being willing juice boxes. You don't want to become one. Some vampires will keep them in their houses because it's very convenient. Vlad has his blood supply imported, because he's got a daughter to think of.

Vampiric weaknesses include sunlight, which burns them, and the need to be invited into dwellings or suffer the loss of their powers. There are ways to circumvent both weaknesses, however, and Vlad has found ways around both during his years of experimentation. The only way to kill a vampire is to destroy their heart, so the classic wooden stake is the weapon of choice for hunters. Jack and Maddie are particularly creative with their weaponry, though.

The GIW exist here, as a sort of white-tunic wearing anti-vampire cult/organization. Their designs are pending further thought, because white robes and hoods have some unfortunate connotations I'd prefer to avoid.

Werewolves and dragons exist here, but they're mostly mentioned in passing and also because I think it would be amusing if Danielle tried to date a werewolf prince while Vlad makes semi-serious plans to turn the poor boy into a rug if the relationship goes awry.

There is a Vampire King, but he's been sealed away in eternal slumber because he's more trouble than he's worth. Vampires will go through long periods of sleep every so often if things are going poorly for them, and it usually involves a coffin and a hidden crypt. They are of course, nocturnal beings, but they don't have to sleep as much as humans and Vlad is committed to raising Danielle diurnally. This causes some problems for him, but he's extremely stubborn and refuses to let the sun get between him and his daughter.

Other vampires consider Vlad to be completely out of his mind after the unfortunate Aragon incident. It's not normal to adopt your lunch. Spectra thinks Vlad's obvious mental illness is very attractive and she likes watching him kill people.

Vlad lived in a proper spooky castle before acquiring Danielle, but after he fled Jack and Maddie he moved extremely far away and settled into a smaller but no less creepy manor outside of a small rural village. Danielle is by no means forbidden from visiting the village and Vlad encourages the townsfolk to allow their children to befriend/suck up to her on a regular basis. Sometimes this involves blatant extortion, such as the time Vlad forcibly invited (kidnapped) a select handful of children and their trembling mothers to attend Danielle's birthday party.

Vlad likes to gaslight the people living in the village outside of his manor. They're all 95% sure he's a vampire, because he certainly couldn't look or act any more like one, but Vlad vehemently denies it. Danielle is accustomed to doing the same, and in reality she is actually the most compelling evidence that Vlad ISN'T a vampire. Because what vampire has a happy, healthy, bite-wound free child in their care?

[theemporium]

[10k] an investigative study into the mysterious fish that saved his life; by oscar piastri with the assistance of logan sargeant, google searches and a crush that makes a man blind to the obvious signs that his coworker is a mermaid.

happy birthday @scuderiahoney!! for one of my fav people and one of my fav spirals we have had together<3

inspired by this moodboard

warning: mentions and descriptions of drowning!! idk why that wee bit went angsty but it did so be warned!!

.

THE PREFACE 

Oscar Piastri never considered himself a ‘go with the flow’ kind of guy, but more of a ‘never have a plan’ kind of guy instead. 

He likes to let fate guide his decisions, or at least that’s what he told himself. That the universe was looking down at him and putting him where he needed to be. 

Because it was fate that he read the wrong room number, ending up in an ocean wildlife conservation lecture rather than the mechanical engineering one he was meant to be in. 

Because it was fate that he found a map, with a small seaside town circled, in the glovebox of the secondhand car he managed to save up and buy. 

Because it was fate that that very seaside town had one of Australia’s biggest ocean conservation programmes that was currently accepting applicants. 

Because it was fate that the dodgy, beachside cabin he bought for ridiculously cheap ended up being home to a stray dog who would become his best friend. 

Because fate was the only explanation for so many things in Oscar’s life that he never planned to happen nor did he believe would’ve just happened if he followed along the way he was. He chose to believe that there was some superior being up there that was making sure he was sticking to the path that was meant for him. 

And so far, it hadn’t led him astray. 

In fact, all things considered with his mother’s constant questioning and uncertainty of him moving so far from home for the programme, things had been working out pretty well for Oscar. 

He enjoyed the routine he had settled into in the almost year of being in one of Australia’s most picturesque, scenic seaside towns. 

Every morning he woke up just before sunrise, when the sky was breaking into pinks and oranges and yellows. He would shuffle his way into the kitchen, pouring a bowl of kibble for Buddy and a bowl of cereal for himself before taking a run along the beach (that was essentially his front garden) until the sun was in the sky. Some days he hit the water, most days he tried to stop Buddy from eating the jellyfish that had washed up on the beach. 

He would have a quick shower, put out some more food for Buddy before riding his bike fifteen minutes towards the water park (because unlike the others, he listened to Sebastian’s talks on lessening your carbon footprint). 

He would greet Alex and George by the door, the two already arguing or disagreeing about something or the other. 

“Alex, they have to show you proof of university ID to get a student discount!” 

“They looked trustworthy!” 

He would pass by the gift shop where Lando would be sitting on the cashier counter, swinging his legs back and forth and fiddling with the speakers to play whatever music he was feeling that day. 

“I’m telling you, Aussies love country music, Osc. You’re clearly the odd one out.” 

Some days, he would pass by Charles and Max by the tourist booth, bickering back and forth about the customer shows and tours for the day. 

“I can’t dedicate thirty minutes of my tour to you, Charles.” 

“But the penguins have learnt new tricks!” 

Other days he would pass by the labs where Sebastian would stick his head out, waving at the boy and throwing some weird and wondrous fact at him. 

“Hey, Oscar, did you see that the squid killer parasite was treated successfully last week?” 

And some days Sebastian stayed in the lab, the door closed and locked behind him which told Oscar and the others that Mark, the park’s owner, was visiting. 

And by the time Oscar reached the staff room to drop his stuff off in his locker and prepare for the day, Logan would’ve somehow hunted him down and began yapping his ear off about something or the other before he eventually brought up his favourite topic. 

The crush Oscar had on you. 

“You must be happy this morning,” Logan commented offhandedly as they left the main building, heading down towards the animal habitats. 

“As opposed to every other morning when I’m always angry and upset?” Oscar deadpanned, shooting the American a look. 

“Just thought you would’ve had a small mood booster after seeing the rota,” Logan shrugged, but there was a mischievous and knowing glint in his eyes. “Heard you were on the late shift.” 

Oscar narrowed his eyes. “Uh huh.” 

“On the late shift with a certain someone,” Logan continued. “Someone you happen to—”

“Do you have to do this every time?” Oscar asked, deadpanned.

But Logan was already nodding. “Yes, it brings me great joy when you try to act nonchalant and then lose your mind in front of her.” 

Oscar scoffed. “I do not lose my mind in front of her.” 

“Hey, guys!” 

Oscar felt his mouth run dry when he turned his head to find you already out on the dock by the dolphin enclosure. It was embarrassing the way his brain went blank, the way his eyes were glued to you—your outfit no different to the uniform both he and Logan and everyone else wore—and not a single coherent thought could leave his mouth. 

He felt Logan jab him in the ribs, kickstarting his brain and letting out an awkward garble before he managed to blurt out, “Heyo!” 

He wondered if jumping into the tank with the dolphins would save any of his dignity. 

“What he meant to say was hey back,” Logan called out, far too smiley as he tried to hold back his glee. “You’re out here early.” 

“I was teaching Rufus a new trick,” you explained, something quite fond in your voice as you turned to smile at the dolphin who was currently nudging a ball towards you. “And then Gizmo felt left out so I played with him a bit too.” 

Logan raised his brows. “With one ball?” 

“I’m creative,” you shrugged. “If you were working in the dolphin enclosure, I would’ve taught you my tricks, Sargeant.” 

“Well, you can always teach Oscar!” Logan said, giving his friend a slightly rough slap on the back which caused him to stagger forward. “I’m sure he would love to learn anything you wanna teach him!” 

Oscar shot Logan a glare. 

Logan only grinned wider. 

“I’ll see if I can make him a dolphin whisperer,” you teased, lighthearted and playful and unaware of the lingering tension between the two boys. You turned to Oscar with a kind smile on your face, one that kind of made his brain go fuzzy. “It’s been a while, Piastri. I’ve missed working with you.” 

And Oscar could feel his cheeks burning up but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he mirrored your smile, his heart beating wildly in his chest. 

“I’ve missed it too,” Oscar replied, sincere and genuine. 

He did. He really did. Because despite all of Logan’s taunting and teasing about Oscar’s crush on you—which was very much real—he also appreciated you as a friend. He had since the day you both started, anxious and eager and leaning on each other for support since day one. 

Just somewhere along the line, Oscar managed to catch some feelings he couldn’t quite shake away. But it was fine. He had them under control. He had long ago accepted they wouldn’t be requited and he would let them run their course before the friendship returned to normal—whilst you were none the wiser. 

“The dolphins missed you too,” you added. “That’s just ‘cause you feed them an extra herring.” 

“I gotta bribe them!” Oscar defended. “You have some secret bond with them. It’s not fair.” 

You snorted. “Well, lucky for you, you’re on swimming duty. Get that wet suit on, Piastri.” 

And then, you flashed him a wink and turned around and—

Yeah, Oscar was far from moving on from how he felt about you. 

But it was fine. Because Oscar Piastri was the kind of guy who let fate take the reins for him. 

Because fate led him to this town. Because fate led him to this job. Because fate led him to you and all the others he had bonded with to make a dysfunctional but supportive family. 

Because it was fate that led him to making one of the biggest discoveries in his life. 

…

THE SIGHTING 

It was as normal as a morning could be. 

He had woken up a little earlier than his alarm, a weird and unsettling feeling in his chest that he brushed off as the few hours of sleep he had managed to get. Buddy wasn’t much better, not as eager to get out of the house as he usually was when Oscar stood by the door for their morning walk. 

It was a little chilly, enough to warrant Oscar wearing a jumper as they wandered down the beach until Buddy felt a little more relaxed and playful. 

But by the time they returned to the house, Oscar was still wired with some restless energy itching under his skin and still three hours until his shift started at the park. 

He thought a quick go at the morning waves would help settle the feeling buzzing through his body before he started scratching at his own skin. 

The water was cold and refreshing and definitely washed away any last dregs of sleep that Oscar had been clinging onto. The exhaustion was long gone, now replaced with a different type of adrenaline that made him seek out the waves that made him work for it. 

It was still early, far too early for many people to be on the beach. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon and Buddy was still half asleep on the beach by his towel, no real rush to join Oscar in the water any time soon. 

Everything was fine. 

Everything was normal. 

The morning sun was starting to shine through, but instead of fluffy, white clouds like the forecast had assured, large, dark clouds were taking over the barely blue sky. It was disconcerting, especially when the waves seemed to be getting rougher. 

He took one glance down at his watch, assuring himself he had enough time for one more wave before he headed back to shore to get ready for his shift at the marine park. With a deep breath, he narrowed his eyes at the water and began paddling with his hands. 

The wave didn’t look too big or risky. It should have been an easy attempt, one that Oscar could do with little to no thought on a day with good weather. But the wind was stronger than he realised, the water more temperamental than he assumed and it didn’t take Oscar long to realise that this wave wasn’t going to end well. 

But the panic didn’t start setting in until the wave washed over him, knocking him off his board with little time for him to take a breath before he went under. He could feel the current tugging his body in different directions, pulling his arms one way whilst the leash around his ankle pulled him in the opposite direction with his board. 

And no matter how hard he kicked his legs and propelled his arms, he couldn’t seem to get any closer to the surface. 

It hit him that he was absolutely fucked when he could feel his lungs starting to burn.

Buddy would be left on the beach, whining and crying out for Oscar until someone found him. Or, god forbid, the loyal dog would try to swim out and find him himself. Oscar was all he knew, the only family Buddy had ever known and it was clear that the dog loved him. It made him feel a twisted sort of pain at the idea of leaving the dog behind. 

People at work would be confused when he didn’t turn up for his shift. Logan would probably be the first to notice when he spends far too long waiting for Oscar in the staff room, watching the clock with a frown. The blond would probably offer to drive out to his house to check up on him. Charles would probably offer to join and might even offer to drive if he could see the boy’s hand shaking too much. He wondered if you would join. 

Sebastian would probably have to call his family back home, to tell them. His stomach twisted into something bitter and awful at the thought of leaving his family behind, of never being able to hug his mother again or tease his sisters or surf with his father. 

His body stopped fighting at one point, too tired to even attempt to reach the surface. But his brain kept going, kept haunting him with the life his family and friends would lead whilst he continued to float and float and—

And then he saw it. 

It was blurry, his vision dotted with black and white blobs as the overwhelming urge to close his eyes took over his body. But he saw it. He saw the flashes of orange, the scales glimmering in the little light under the surface. He saw a fin and scales and then—

Skin. 

And hair. 

And arms reaching for him. 

And he swore he saw the features of a human face staring back at him, but before he could even try to force his eyes to focus, everything was going black and Oscar let it happen. 

…

The first that hit him was how fucking cold he was. 

The second was—

Well, the second hit him when his eyes blinked open, barely giving him a chance to acknowledge the people surrounding him before he coughed, emptying out the saltwater that was still stuck in his lungs. 

He could feel someone’s hand soothing his back, the action almost relieving if it weren’t for the fact Oscar swore he couldn’t stop shivering. 

“Let it all out, honey, atta boy,” a woman’s voice soothed as Oscar laid on his side, panting heavily and trying to wrap his head around everything before he felt a furry head pushing against his own. 

“Hey, Buddy,” Oscar breathed out, his lips twitching as he let the dog practically throw himself on top of Oscar even if it was still a little hard to breathe. 

“Smart dog you got there,” the woman spoke up again and Oscar finally turned his head to find a kind-looking woman smiling down at him. It took a few seconds before he realised she was wearing the paramedic uniform. “He managed to drag a couple out of their car to come help you. They are the ones who called us.”

Oscar blinked. “You swam out?” 

The woman frowned a little. “Of course not, honey. The waves seemed to have washed you in. You were lying out on the beach when we got called out.” 

“I—” Oscar blinked again, his confusion growing as he stared out at the ocean for a few moments. “Right. Of course.” 

“Do you remember what happened?” The kind paramedic asked.

“A little,” Oscar admitted. “I was surfing and the wave took me under. The current started dragging me further out. But then I saw—” Before he paused. Images of orange scales and a human face flashed in his mind but there was a voice in the back of his head that told him to stop, to keep that to himself.

“Saw what?” The paramedic prompted. 

“I don’t know,” Oscar eventually said as he shrugged. “I think I blacked out after that.” 

“I see,” the woman nodded, though he couldn’t read whether she believed him or not. “Think you can stand up? We just wanna do some standard tests, make sure you are alright. Then maybe someone you know can come pick you up.” 

“No need, my house is just there,” Oscar said as he nodded towards the cabin in the distance. “I feel fine, I promise—” 

“Procedure,” the woman said with a sheepish smile. “C’mon, it won’t take long. Promise.” 

And true to her word, it hadn’t taken long. 

Beyond some tests to prove that he knew his name, had basic motor functions and wasn’t concussed, he was allowed to head back home with Buddy by his side and a blanket wrapped around his body to try and maintain what little heat he had left.

His body was running mostly on muscle memory as he shuffled into the house, pulling the blanket off (against better judgement) and starting to unzip his wetsuit so he could peel it off his body like a second skin. 

He was smiling down at Buddy, who had refused to leave his side, when he felt a sharp prick against his finger. He winced, lifting his thumb to his mouth without second thought before glancing down to see what had nicked him. 

His eyes widened comically large when he saw an orange scale stuck to the side of his leg, sparkling and glistening the same way he swore it had under the water. The attempt of removing the wet suit was quickly abandoned as he glanced around the room, swearing under his breath before shuffling towards the kitchen. 

Buddy followed, whining and huffing as Oscar slammed cupboards doors open and shut before finding a small container. He leaned down, grabbing the scale as gently as he could before transferring it to the container. 

“M’telling you, Bud, that thing out there saved my life,” he spoke, his voice still a little raspy and raw. “I don’t know what it is but it wasn’t a normal fish. And I’m gonna figure out what the hell it is.” 

With all due respect, Buddy looked at his owner like he was insane but Oscar didn’t seem to notice. 

…

“I need you to look at something for me.” 

Logan let out a high-pitched scream, his body reacting quicker than he could keep up with and causing him to fall out of his seat before he noticed Oscar standing there, a frown on his lips. The blond let out a curse, his hand pressed against his chest as he let out a deep sigh of relief. 

“Fucking hell, dude, don’t sneak up on a guy like that!” Logan grumbled before pausing, scrambling to stand up and really focus on Oscar this time. “What the fuck are you doing here? You should be resting!” 

Oscar blinked. “I’m fine.” 

“You almost drowned,” Logan said slowly, like he was explaining the point to a child.

“Yes, Logan, I’m aware,” Oscar deadpanned. “I was there, believe it or not.”

“I—” Logan let out a deep breath. “You’re insane. Like actually insane. I think you lost too many brain cells because you shouldn’t be out of bed, let alone at work—”

“I’m not here to work,” Oscar corrected before flashing his friend a grin. “I came here because I need your weird fish encyclopaedic knowledge.” 

Logan stared at him. “Be honest with me, did your board hit your head?” 

“Shut up,” Oscar rolled his eyes before gesturing to the jar he slammed on the table before Logan fell off his seat. “Look.” 

Logan frowned a little, picking up the jar and peeking inside. “I know you work with dolphins but I’d at least hope you know that’s a fish scale.”

Oscar shot him a look. “I know it’s a fish scale but I need to know which fish it belongs to.”

Logan blinked. “You think I’d be able to take one look at this random scale and tell you which fish it belonged to?” 

“I mean,” Oscar shrugged. “Yeah. Kinda.” 

“You’ve been hanging around the dolphins far too much,” Logan murmured. 

“Listen, whichever fish that scale belongs to saved my life,” Oscar started. 

Logan stared at him like he had grown a second head. “A fish saved you from drowning?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you are sure you didn’t hit your head?” 

“Oh my god,” Oscar huffed. “Look, I know what I saw. It had a huge orange tail but it also had…like…skin and hair.” 

“Very commonly found in marine animals,” Logan deadpanned. 

“I’m serious,” Oscar said, his lips turned downwards. “And think, if it is a new kind of fish and you help me discover it—” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Logan muttered, waving him off. “For the record, I still think you’re going insane but I’m your friend so I’ll help you out.” 

Oscar grinned. “I knew you’d help.” 

“You owe me lunch though,” Logan added. “I dropped my burrito when you scared me.” 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Fine, deal.” 

…

THE INVESTIGATION

Despite his concern, Oscar managed to convince Sebastian to let him come back to work the next day (after saying he would be bored out of his mind at home) with the condition that Buddy be allowed to join him at work considering the dog had downright refused to leave his side since the accident. 

George and Alex had been awkward at the front. They had been less than subtle at their surprise that he had come into work so soon, and in turn, had been dreadfully unprepared in the etiquette of how to talk to your coworker friend who had almost drowned and died less than twenty-four hours earlier. 

Lando had been no better, downright asking him if he met God in the few minutes he lacked oxygen under water before being washed back out to shore. He hadn’t understood why Oscar—and even Buddy—had stared at him blankly.

Charles had been a little more sympathetic, though oddly protective of the boy. He had been a little fussy at Oscar coming in so early, insisting that he would make sure the boy had proper breaks and meals, even if he had to talk to Sebastian himself. Max had rolled his eyes at the other boy’s antics but clapped Oscar on the back and said he was happy he was alive. 

Even Logan had been cautious around the boy. Despite his agreement to help search for the fish that saved him, he still constantly looked at Oscar like he had downright lost his mind. And maybe he had. 

The only person who seemed to be acting remotely normal towards him was you, or at least it felt that way. 

“You know, Rufus really missed you yesterday.” 

Oscar raised his brows as he walked down the pier towards where you stood, two buckets of fish in each hand. “I think we must be talking about different Rufuses.” 

You rolled your eyes, though it seemed quite fond as you patted the spot next to you as you sat on the edge of the dock. “He likes you. He just also likes teasing you.” 

“That’s easy for you to say, he is a little prince around you,” Oscar commented, smiling softly when Buddy rushed towards your side, nuzzling you fondly. 

“There’s my favourite dog,” you cooed, taking Buddy’s face in your hands and pressing a smacking kiss on the top of his head. “Such a handsome boy.” 

Oscar chose to ignore the fact he was feeling oddly jealous of his dog of all people. 

“You’re just a dolphin whisperer,” Oscar said eventually, looking out at the two rescue dolphins that were currently chasing each other with a red ball between them. “I don’t get how you do it.” 

You shrugged, but your smile was mischievous. “If I told you, I would have to kill you.” 

Oscar snorted in response. It would have been embarrassing if it didn’t make your smile widen. 

A few moments of comfortable silence passed between the two of you with Oscar watching the dolphins and your attention on the needy dog now half-sprawled across your lap. You waited a few moments before you found the confidence to speak up again.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, your fingers tangled in Buddy’s fur as the dog sighed happily. “I mean, obviously you don’t have to answer that but if you want to talk about it—”

“I’m okay,” he answered with a kind smile. “It was…weird.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself. “Weird is an understatement.” 

But Oscar just shrugged his shoulders. “I was lucky, that’s what I’m choosing to focus on.” 

You nodded but you didn’t say anything in response. You didn’t get the chance as Logan came barrelling down the dock, a huge grin spread across his face and a bunch of scuba equipment in his arms.

“Dude, you won’t believe what Seb let me borrow!” 

Oscar’s eyes widened as he quickly scrambled up, shooting Logan a look that he didn’t seem to understand. 

“Don’t worry,” Logan rolled his eyes. “I didn’t tell him about your mission to find—” 

But Oscar reached over to smack his hand over Logan’s mouth before the boy could continue, laughing awkwardly as he looked over his shoulder at you. “He doesn't know what he’s talking about!”

You glanced between the boys, eyeing the scuba equipment curiously. “Hiding some top secret mission from me?” 

“No, of course not!” Oscar quickly blurted out. “It’s just…something stupid.” 

You raised your brows. “And requires state of the art diving equipment?” 

Oscar just laughed nervously.

Logan finally managed to push Oscar’s hand away, something mischievous and cunning shining in his eyes as he glanced at Oscar before looking at you. “You know, we have spare equipment. You could totally join us tomorrow—”

But before Oscar could intervene, you were already responding. 

“Oh no, I can't swim.” 

Logan blinked. “What?” 

“I, uh, mean,” you laughed, awkward and stilted as you quickly stood up, almost tripping on Buddy as you did so. “I swim. I can swim. Just not well.” 

Logan nodded slowly. “Well, Oscar could always teach you—” 

“No, no, don’t let me hold you back,” you insisted before clearing your throat. “God, would you look at that! I should go get some more fish. Bye, guys!” 

Neither boy got a chance to say much before you were running down the dock, heading towards the main building. Logan watched you for a moment before looking down at the two full buckets of fish by his feet. 

“Well, that wasn’t weird at all,” he deadpanned.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “You’re reading too much into it.” 

Logan gave him a weird look. “Dude, she’s literally lying. It’s a part of the entry requirements to be able to swim and be fully lifeguard trained.” 

“Well, maybe you made her uncomfortable and she felt the need to lie,” Oscar retorted.

Logan rolled his eyes. “A man in love is a blind man.” 

Oscar shook his head. “Pipe down, Shakespeare, and show me what Seb gave you.” 

…

As it would turn out, aimlessly diving around the area Oscar almost drowned was a useless and fruitless endeavour. 

Who would have thought?

Logan, clearly, considering the boy had been insisting as much since the two of them waddled back into Oscar’s cabin, their wetsuits drying out on the balcony and the heavy weight of exhaustion on their shoulders after the hours of searching was something that was not there. 

“Maybe it needs a purpose to show itself,” Logan suggested as he slumped down on the couch, happily letting Buddy jump up and join him. “Maybe you need to almost die again.” 

Oscar shot him a look.

“Right. Too soon. Sorry.” 

“No, I—” Oscar paused, shaking his head and letting it drop. He was too tired to deal with it anyways. “That is not a theory we are going to test.” 

“Whatever you say, man,” Logan shrugged, settled against the soft throw pillows Oscar’s mother had insisted he needed to buy to make his place seem a bit homier. “What’s your plan anyways?” 

Oscar frowned a little in confusion. “For what?” 

“When you find this fish,” Logan stated. “Like, what are you gonna do? Say thank you and move on with your life?” 

“Well, no, I—” he paused for a moment. “I hadn’t really thought about it. It’s a weird fish.” 

“And diving the depths of the ocean will get us nowhere except having a very boring hobby for the next fifty years,” Logan deadpanned. “Describe the fish again. Maybe we can note down some main features and do some research. There’s probably something on the internet.” 

“I don’t know,” Oscar shrugged, turning his attention back to whatever scraps were left in his fridge that he could somehow make a meal from. “I have never seen a fish like this.” 

“Because you know every fish ever to exist.” 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” 

“C’mon, just try,” Logan whined as he reached for his phone, muttering out a small ‘sorry’ when he had to manoeuvre Buddy on his lap before he pulled up a new tab. “We have orange scales, big, skin and hair-like features—”

“It was skin and hair.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Logan murmured as he continued to add a few more details Oscar had told him before hitting search. He waited a few moments, looking through the top searches before he let out a loud snort. “Okay, maybe you were right. Maybe googling is useless.” 

“Why? What does it say?” Oscar asked, reaching for the jar of pasta sauce that seemed to be shoved towards the back of his cupboard. For the sake of his rumbling stomach, he decided not to linger on how long it had been back there for.

“It says you’re looking for a mermaid,” Logan snorted, his amusement clear in his voice. “I mean, come on! Like any sucker would believe that.” 

However, when he turned his head to see if Oscar was laughing along with him, he found the boy staring back with a contemplative look on his face.

“No,” Logan groaned, leaning his head back against the pillows. “No, Oscar, we are not—” 

“It might be,” Oscar argued back.

“You need to get your head checked,” Logan grumbled.

“Just find as many reliable sources on mermaids as you can whilst I make lunch,” Oscar retorted, waving him off as the American let out a squawk of protest.

“He’s gone insane. My best friend has gone insane.” 

“I can hear you.”

“Good!” 

…

“I can’t believe these words are about to leave my mouth—” 

“You don’t need to say that everytime.” 

“But how do we know we are dealing with a mermaid and not a siren?” Logan questioned as the two of them sat on the dock by the dolphins, sandwiches in hand as they enjoyed their lunch break whilst entertaining Rufus and Gizmo with the new toys Sebastian had ordered.

“Because it would have killed me if it was a siren,” Oscar responded matter-of-factly. “If it was a siren, they probably would have eaten me.” 

“Should we really be saying it? Wouldn’t it be a she?” Logan asked, but before he could even wait for an answer, he was continuing. “And how do we know she speaks English? Like, she could speak some ocean language. Maybe you need to start speaking fish so you can thank her if we find her.”

Oscar blinked. “Speaking fish? Really?” 

“What? I am just making assumptions here,” Logan murmured. “It’s not like there’s a lot of accurate and reliable sources for mermaid logistics and habits.”

“Well, she is also probably a human living in this town,” Oscar pointed out. “So, I think my chances of her speaking English or any other human language is high.”

“So you think,” Logan muttered under his breath.

Oscar glanced down when he felt a nudge against his foot, smiling when he felt Rufus nudge him. “I wonder if she can speak to fish.” 

“Hm?”

“Like, imagine how cool it would be to be able to talk to different sea animals,” Oscar commented as he leaned down, his smile widening when the dolphin lifted his head up to meet Oscar’s hand.

“Well, your girlfriend is the dolphin whisperer,” Logan teased, nudging the other boy’s side with his elbow. “She could maybe teach you something, help you practise your fish language before you find your knight in scaly armour.” 

Oscar could feel his cheeks burn. “She’s not my girlfriend.” 

“But you wish she was,” Logan sang. 

“Plus, some people just have a special knack with animals,” Oscar shrugged, watching as Rufus continued to nudge his foot to gain his attention. “She’s one of them.” 

“A shame she can’t swim with them,” Logan muttered.

“Oh my god, get off her back with that,” Oscar groaned. 

“I am just saying—” 

“Stop saying it.” 

“—it’s a little weird that—”

“You’re a little weird.”

“—she was so dodgy about her swimming and then ran off—”

“You are reading far too much into it.” 

“—like she’s hiding something!” Logan exclaimed. 

“Who’s hiding something?” 

Both boys let out a scream, whipping their heads to find you standing a few feet away, looking far too amused at the expressions on their faces. You raised your brows, glancing between them and watching the way they both floundered for a response. 

“Were you talking about little old me?” You asked, a dramatic gasp following as you placed your hand over your heart. 

Oscar’s eyes widened. “No, we just—”

But before he could even come up with a half-assed, lame excuse to try and sell, a large splash of water hit the three of you. The water was cold and a shock to the system and the almost mocking laugh of Rufus as he swam away was the cherry on top. 

Oscar glanced down at the soggy sandwich in his hand before shifting his attention to you, noticing the way your eyes widened in panic. 

“Hey, you look a bit pale,” Oscar started but you were already starting to walk backwards. 

“I have to go!” You blurted out before turning on your heel and sprinting down the pier. 

“Wait!” Oscar frowned, ignoring the odd look Logan was giving him as he began to chase after you, watching you make a beeline towards the main building. 

He could feel his legs burning as he tried to catch up, as he chased you through the windy footpaths of the park, only to find himself at the main building with the door still locked and you nowhere in sight. 

He called out your name, his teeth starting to chatter a little as the water seeped into his clothes and hung heavy on his frame. 

But you were nowhere to be seen. 

…

“Do you think there is a way to find the human version of the mermaid?” 

Oscar barely lifted his head up from his phone, glancing down at the series of unread messages he had sent to you over the course of the last few days. Sebastian had said you called in sick, saying you needed a few days to recover from your cold without giving it to anyone. 

But Oscar wasn’t buying it.

“Because maybe we just need to look for the very obvious clues.”

Of course, there was the potential option that you really were sick. It was quite chilly the other day and Oscar’s mother always did say that wet clothes and chilly weather were never a good combination. It was why his first message was staged as a simple wish for you to get better, seeing if you would reply to him. 

You didn’t. 

“You know, like people well affiliated with fish. And maybe avoid water. And maybe have a suspicious background we don’t know about.” 

The following messages had been sent by accident. His thumb had been hovering over the second message when Buddy bumped into him and made his thumb hit the screen. And then, with the embarrassment already settled, he found himself sending a few more to follow up. 

But still, he hadn’t heard a single word from you. Nobody had. 

“It does make me wonder if your kids would come out as mermaids or fully human though.” 

Oscar blinked, head snapping up to stare at Logan with a bewildered look. “What?!” 

Logan huffed. “Have you not been listening to a word I’ve been saying?” 

“No, clearly not. Though, if you’re talking about how mermaids reproduce then I’m glad I zoned out,” Oscar deadpanned. 

“You should have a lot more interest considering your girlfriend is a mermaid,” Logan retorted. 

Oscar blinked. “Come again?” 

“Don’t tell me you don’t see the signs?” Logan prompted. 

Oscar shot him a look. “I don’t see the signs.” 

“God, love really is blind,” Logan sighed, shaking his head. “The signs are right in front of you, dude. She’s the one you’re looking for. Maybe. Potentially. It’s mostly a hunch.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Oscar scoffed. “I know her. I know her better than you. And I know that isn’t her.” 

“In denial your girlfriend is a fish?” Logan teased, nudging his foot against Oscar’s shin only to let out a wince when Oscar kicked him back. 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “I’m not in denial about anything!” 

“Who’s not in denial about anything?” 

Oscar’s head snapped around, his cheeks burning when he found Charles and Max standing at the door of the staff room, looking between the two younger boys with a questioning but amused look in their eyes. 

“Nothing!” Oscar flashed them a strained smile. “Truly nothing. We are talking about absolutely nothing.” 

Max raised his brows. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.” 

“Well—“ Oscar laughed, another half-assed lie ready to leave his lips but Logan bet him to it. 

“Oscar is just in denial about his lady fish!” Logan blinked, realising what he’s been saying. “I mean his friend who’s a fish! I mean, his lady friend who likes fish. She isn’t a fish. No one is a fish but fish!” 

Oscar shot him a look. 

“You know?” Logan laughed awkwardly. 

To his credit, Max looked positively delighted like their misery was great for his amusement. But Charles looked downright concerned, looking at Oscar with a solemn look as he walked around the table. He placed a hand on Oscar’s shoulder and gave him a small squeeze. 

“We will fight your fish fetish together,” he said in a completely serious voice. 

Logan choked. 

Oscar blanched. “I do not have a fish fetish!” 

“It’s fine, accepting it is the first step and we will get there together, yes?” Charles said with a kind smile. “You’re not alone, Oscar.” 

“I’m not there at all,” he retorted. 

“You have a support system here, Oscar,” Charles said. “We are your family too.”

Oscar groaned, his head slumping down to rest on the table. “Logan, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Logan is your friend and he just wants to help,” Charles continued, patting the boy on the back like he was trying to comfort him. 

It was safe to say he wasn’t focused on your lack of response to his messages after that. 

…

THE REVEAL 

It was actually totally by chance that it happened that morning.  

Just before his shift ended the day before, Sebastian had managed to catch him on his way out, ranting away about storms and stocking up and eventually ending his ramble by asking Oscar to come in early for his shift tomorrow to help deal with the morning feeds in case they have to shut down the park for the storm. 

He had agreed, assuring the older man he would be at the park before the sun had risen before he left. 

The next morning, he had been cursing his past self as he dragged himself out of bed and forwent his usual morning swim for a quick walk with Buddy before cycling towards the park. 

He was barely awake as he sauntered towards the staff room, putting his things away and just barely noticing your locker was already full before he made his way out towards the dolphins where he assumed you would’ve started. 

After all, Sebastian never said you two couldn’t work through the breakfast shift together. 

Oscar still felt a bit half asleep and bleary when he saw you at the bottom of the pier, talking away to Rufus and Gizmo. It made him smile, listening to whatever you were saying without even really processing it. 

In fact, it was because he was so entranced that he almost missed it at first. 

“Okay, one more but then you’ve gotta have your breakfast,” you sighed, shaking your head fondly at the two dolphins before lifting your hand. 

It took a second for Oscar to even realise there was a massive ball of water floating in front of you. It took a few more seconds to realise it turned to ice seconds later. And he was already rubbing his eyes to try and wake himself by the time you threw it into the water, letting the dolphins chase after it. 

He stood at the bottom of the dock, mouth agape and heart thundering in his chest that he missed whatever you said to the squeaking dolphin before you dove head first into the water. 

His body kicked into action by that point as he sprinted down the pier, yelling out your name and already trying to shrug off his coat so he could dive in after you, only to pause when he saw something in the water. 

Not something—you. 

It felt like deja vu as he stared at you under the water’s surface, stuck between confusion and awe. It was still dark but somehow the scales of your tail still glimmered in the water, dancing and shining and downright mesmerising. It was orange and gold and yellow and just breath-taking to see when he wasn’t losing oxygen. He watched your hair flow behind you as you swam effortlessly beside the dolphins like you belonged, like you were meant to be in the water. 

It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. 

He had barely picked his jaw up off the floor by the time you rose to the surface again, your eyes widening as you saw him kneeling on the pier staring out at you. 

You gulped a little. “Oscar, it’s not what it seems—”

“It’s you,” he interrupted, though his voice was soft and awestruck. “You’re the mermaid. You’re the one that saved me.” 

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t need saving if you hadn’t been an idiot surfing when it wasn’t safe,” you retorted, almost defensive as you squirmed under his watchful gaze. 

“I can’t believe it,” he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. “You are so—”

“Scary?” You supplied. 

“Beautiful,” Oscar corrected with a small frown. 

“Oh,” was all you managed to say. 

His eyes drifted down once again, his eyes lingering on your tail and the way it swayed gently to keep you above the surface. It was long, much longer than he realised the last time he saw you. But it was there and it was real and it belonged to you and— 

It was overwhelming. 

And it was also deeply annoying that Logan was right. 

Oscar opened his mouth. “I have so many questions I want—”

“I’m sure you do and I will answer them but,” you flashed him a sheepish smile, though the defensive tone in your voice was still there. “Not now. Later. Promise.”

Oscar nodded, a little dumbly. “Come back to mine after work?” 

You nodded back, your smile a little strained. “Yeah, of course.” 

…

“Would you like some tea?” 

The wind howling and the rain pattering against the window from the storm managed to break some of the awkward silence as you sat in Oscar’s living room, picking at the skin around your nails and avoiding eye contact with him completely. 

“Uh yeah,” you nodded. “Tea would be nice.” 

Oscar nodded before shuffling towards the kitchen, grabbing two mugs and putting the kettle on before he glanced over his shoulder to peek out at you. 

He smiled a bit as he watched Buddy trot towards you, letting out a whine and knocking your hands away from each other and instead placed his head on your lap until you started scratching behind his ears instead. 

“He’s a bit of a clinger,” Oscar warned as he wandered back into the room, two cups of tea in his hands as he placed both on the coffee table before taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. “If you give him too much attention, he will never let you leave.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “That doesn’t sound too bad.” 

“You’ll think twice when he starts chewing your shoes because he wants to go out in the morning,” Oscar retorted. 

You let out a soft laugh in response. 

He watched you for a few moments as you cooed at the dog in front of you. You had told him you’d make your way to his house, considering Oscar’s shift ended half an hour earlier than yours and he had only driven a bicycle into work. 

He had tried to be really casual and nonchalant about the whole thing, pretending like his mind wasn’t spinning all day since he saw you in the water. It got a lot worse when he got home, practically pacing the cabin and wearing a hole into the carpet as he kept glancing at the clock—so often that even Buddy started whining about it. 

And then, just minutes before the rain started, you were knocking on his door and walking into his house and—

He felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

He wondered if he was meant to be the one to drop it. 

“So, a mermaid, huh?” 

And maybe it was the shitty icebreaker or maybe it was the nerves catching up with you, but you couldn’t help but snort. 

“Really?” You teased, finally looking at him with something that felt oddly close to fondness. “That’s what you start with?” 

“I panicked,” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “And…I don’t know how much you want to share.” 

“Most people would be demanding answers,” you told him, your voice a little defensive like you expected him to be the same. 

“I’m not most people,” he responded before pausing. “Wait, other people know?” 

“Well, no,” you confessed before shrugging. “I just assume people would demand answers. I sure as hell did.” 

Oscar’s brows furrowed together. “You haven’t been a mermaid your whole life?”

“Since I was sixteen,” you told him, shaking your head. “It’s a long story. Full moons, sea caves and a very confusing attempt at a shower the next day.” 

His lips twitched upwards. “And you’ve hidden it this long?” 

You nodded. 

“That must be exhausting,” he murmured, his chest tightening a little at the idea that you had been carrying this secret alone for years. 

“I’m used to it by now,” you answered honestly with a shrug. “Plus, technically speaking, other people don’t know but other creatures do.” 

Oscar blinked. “You can actually speak fish?” 

You shot him an odd look. “Well, it’s not really a universal language amongst all fish but I can communicate with them.” 

“And control water,” Oscar blurted out, remembering what he saw that morning. 

You smiled softly. “Being a mermaid has its perks.” 

“The park is a risky place to work,” Oscar commented with a frown. “Aren’t you scared of constantly being exposed?”

“Like the other day?” You huffed, shaking your head. “I’m usually quite safe and I’m careful. Rufus was just being a dick.” 

“He…knows?” Oscar said slowly, like his brain was still catching up with the fact you could speak to marine animals. 

“He’s very demanding during our morning swims,” you admitted with a soft smile. “He also has very strong opinions and can be quite pushy with them.” 

Oscar raised his brows. “And what was he getting pushy with this time?” 

You fell silent, your attention quickly falling back to Buddy. 

He frowned a little. “I won’t judge, whatever it is. Unless it’s like a mermaid-slash-fish insider thing I wouldn’t understand, then I totally get it but—”

“It’s whatever,” you quickly interrupted, your smile seeming a little more put on and strained. “It’s not true, anyways.” 

Oscar’s frown deepened but he didn’t say anything as he nodded. It was only in the moments of silence that he realised how heavy the rain had gotten, with the drops sounding like harsh patters against his window. 

“Fuck,” you murmured with a frown. “It’s going to be impossible to get home.” 

“Home as in…a house or a sea cave or…?” Oscar started to trail off, having the decency to look a little embarrassed when you shot him a look. 

“I have a place on land,” you confirmed, though he could hear the amusement in your voice. “Although considering the fact I have seconds before I change, I won’t even be able to make it out your front door before I grow a tail.” 

“You can stay here,” he blurted out before he could second guess himself. “If you want to. I don’t mind. Neither does Buddy.” 

As if on cue, Buddy let out a soft bark of agreement as he nuzzled his head against your lap. 

You looked at him. “Are you sure? Because I—”

“I’m sure,” Oscar confirmed with a nod. “You can take the bed, I don’t mind taking the couch. Although, you may have to deal with Buddy trying to cuddle with you.” 

Your eyes widened slightly. “Oscar, I can’t kick you off your own bed.” 

“I don’t mind,” he repeated with a shrug. “Plus, the couch can be tricky to get comfy on if you don’t know the exact way to sleep and I’m used to—”

“I’m not letting you sleep on this couch,” you said, pausing for a moment before sheepishly smiling. “No offence.” 

His lips twitched. “None taken.” 

“We can—” You paused again before straightening up in your seat. “We can share the bed. It’s just one night, no?” 

Oscar blinked. 

“Friends can share beds, right?” You added, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“Uh, yeah,” Oscar blurted out. “Yeah, totally. Absolutely. We can so do that. No problem at all.” 

He was fucked. 

…

All things considered, Oscar thought he was doing pretty well until the two of you actually had to fall asleep. 

He gave you some spare clothes to borrow and took the gentleman’s route of letting you use the bathroom first. He let you choose your side of the bed and borrowed some of the throw pillows from the living room to act as a barrier to make you a little more comfortable. He had even made sure Buddy was squished on his side of the bed so he wouldn’t disturb you. 

But then, the silence settled between you both after he had turned the lights off and climbed into bed and not even the pattering rain could ease the suffocating tension. 

“Logan knows,” Oscar blurted out. 

You blinked, turning your head as though you could see him in the dark. “What?!” There was a pause. “You told him?” 

“What? No!” Oscar quickly corrected. “No, of course not. He guessed it. Kinda. He was, like, forty-seven percent sure you were a mermaid.” 

You frowned. “And the other fifty-three percent?” 

“That,” Oscar snorted a little. “Was him being confident that mermaids didn’t exist at all and I hit my head during the accident.”

“You almost did,” you confessed. 

Oscar swallowed before turning his head to look in the direction of where you were lying. “Thank you,” he whispered in a softer voice. “For saving me. You really did save my life and you didn’t have to.” 

There was a small pause before Oscar felt you reach over the wall of pillows to take his hand. “I would’ve never left you hanging, Osc. You’re my friend.” 

He squeezed your hand a little. “Right, friend. Of course.”

Another moment of silence passed between you two. 

“You know I would never tell anyone your secret, right?” Oscar whispered, something about the moment feeling soft and quiet. “Even with Logan. I’ll throw him off your tail, stop him from bothering you.” 

A laugh slipped out. “Off my tail?” 

His cheeks burned but he smiled. “The pun was unintentional.” 

You hummed before responding. “You’d actually do that?” 

“Of course,” Oscar confirmed, genuine and sincere. “You’re my friend.” 

“Right, friend. Of course,” you repeated when nothing else came to mind. 

And once again, the silence settled between you but it was thick and suffocating and desperate to be cut and—

“Rufus wanted me to be honest with you,” you blurted out, squeezing his hand a little like it was the small sign of comfort you needed. “That’s what he’s been bugging me about. Gizmo too, actually.” 

Oscar frowned a little. “About telling me you’re a mermaid?” 

“No. Yes. Kinda.” You took a deep breath. “They wanted me to be honest with how I feel.” 

“I didn’t realise they were licensed therapists,” Oscar commented.

Your lips twitched. “They are delusional like that.” 

“Whatever you wanna say, m’not gonna judge you,” Oscar murmured, squeezing your hand to solidify his point. 

“I like you,” you whispered. 

“Yeah, I like you too,” Oscar replied casually. “And nothing you say can freak me out. I promise.” 

“No, Oscar, I like you. Like like.” 

“Oh.” 

“Fuck, sorry,” you swore under your breath as you moved to pull your hand away. “I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position—”

“No, I just—” Oscar let out a huff. “Wait a second.” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you listened to him shuffling around on his side of the bed. It took a few seconds before you realised what he was doing, throwing the pillow wall on the floor and reaching for the lamp on his bedside table before he turned to you. 

“Better,” he murmured before reaching for your hand again. “You mean it? You like me?” 

“Are you really gonna make me say it again?” You winced a little. 

“I mean, it would help me redeem my response beyond a pathetic ‘oh’,” Oscar confessed, his cheeks flushing pink as he bit back a smile. 

You watched his expression closely. “And what would your response be this time?”

He swallowed harshly, gaining what little confidence he had left in himself before he chickened out and second-guessed himself. “I would say I have been pretty much in love with you since the day you accidentally trapped me in that huge fishing net and had to cut me out with a shitty pair of craft scissors.” 

Your brows furrowed together. “But that was our second day working together—oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Oscar repeated with a grin. His eyes dropped to your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes, squeezing your hand as we spoke. “I like like you too.” 

“Even if I’m half fish?” You asked, watching as Oscar’s expression grew adoring. 

“Even if you told me I had to live on a dinghy for the rest of my life to be with you,” Oscar confessed. 

“That,” you paused as you laughed a little. “That might be one of the weirdest but most romantic things someone has ever said to me.” 

“You should see me flirting after a few drinks,” he deadpanned, not bothering to hide his smile as you rolled your eyes fondly.

“Just kiss me, Piastri,” you murmured.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he nodded before slipping his free hand to cup your face before leaning down to kiss you.

You let out a happy sigh, pulling your hand free so you could wrap both arms around his neck and tug him closer. Oscar rolled closer, keeping his weight off you as he deepened the kiss and smiled a little at the satisfied noise you let out. 

It was soft and sweet and adoring and made your whole body feel like it was on cloud nine by the time he pulled away, strands of hair falling in his eyes and a gentle expression pained across his face.

“We should probably sleep,” Oscar murmured.

“Yeah, we probably should,” you nodded in agreement.

“Glad you agree,” he hummed.

“Totally,” you responded.

Neither one of you could bite back your smiles as you leaned in for another kiss. 

…

THE AFTERMATH 

“This is cheating.” 

“How is it cheating?” 

“Okay, maybe it isn’t cheating but it is unfair.” 

You snorted, shaking your head in amusement as you lightly flicked your tail to splash the boy sitting on his surfboard. He let out a small noise of annoyance but he was still smiling, looking down at the seashell in his hand with utter love and adoration. 

“My gift seems lame in comparison now,” Oscar grumbled as his thumb smoothed over the ridges of the shell. 

“That’s a bit dramatic,” you retorted, leaning on your crossed arms as you leaned on the edge of his board. 

“Yeah, well, I bought your gift and you literally dived to the depths of the ocean for mine,” he replied but he still held the shell with a great sense of protectiveness, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Thank you, babe. I love it.” 

“Thought it would look cute for your collection,” you grinned back, sighing happily at the ease and relaxation written across his face. It had been an intense few weeks at work and this was the first mutual day off the two of you had. You almost forgot how much you loved seeing Oscar so laid back and stress-free. 

“It’ll be the best one in my collection,” he grinned, staring down at the shell for another few seconds before reaching for the small zipped pocket in his wetsuit. “Okay, close your eyes.” 

You rolled your eyes but did as you were told, holding your hands out as you listened to the sound of the zip. You waited a few moments before you felt cold metal hit your palm and tried to bite back your smile.

“I know the mermaid magic has a whole mind of its own but I thought maybe this would be one thing you can wear both on land and in the water,” Oscar confessed, and you could hear the hint of nerves in his voice. “Something from me, so I can be there with you when you are deep in the ocean getting me cool shells.” 

You snorted a little, but the amusement was quickly replaced by awe and surprise once you opened your eyes and spotted the silver locket in your palm. Your thumb traced over the necklace, smiling a little when you noticed the gem was the same shade of blue as his favourite board—the same one he was currently sitting on—and Buddy’s eyes.

“Oscar,” you whispered when no other words seemed to leave your lips. 

“Open it,” he prompted. 

You gently clicked the locket open, your smile widening when you noticed a picture tucked into the frame. Staring back at you was one of your favourite photos of you, Oscar and Buddy on the beach that a passing local had taken for the three of you when you were out one morning for Buddy’s morning walk. It had been one of your and Oscar’s favourite photos, considering it was currently framed and sitting on his bedside table and another print tucked into his locker at work. 

You looked up at him, your chest feeling so warm and tight and full with all the love you had for the boy. “It’s beautiful.” 

“Perfect for you then,” he murmured with a grin before nodding his head. “Turn around, let me put it on for you.” 

You listened easily, moving your hair over your shoulder as the boy reached around to place the necklace on before clasping it together. Your fingertips brushed over the locket as you glanced down at it before turning to look at him. He was already staring back at you, his expression soft and fond and so full of love that it almost made you wonder how it took you so long to confess your feelings when he had been staring at you like that long before you started dating.

“I love you,” you murmured, your heart warming at the sight of his cheeks blushing at the same three words you have said countless times to the boy.

“I love you too,” he replied easily before leaning down to kiss you. “Happy one year anniversary, baby.” 

“Happy one year, Osc.” 

,

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: the evil fungi did it

We all know of The Last of Us, but that franchise isn't the only example of fungal invasions. We've got zombies and apocalypses, we've got gothic horror, we've got fantasy, we've got romance, we've got space - no genre is safe from having their characters become the home of fungal organisms.

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

The Girl with all the Gifts (The Girl with All the Gifts series) by M.R. Carey

Want another fungal zombie apocalypse? Then I come bearing great news! The Girl with All the Gifts is a post apocalyptic novel following a group of characters fleeing across an infested wasteland, trying to stay alive and hoping to find a cure. One of the characters is Melanie, a young girl who carries the contagion inside of her and hungers for flesh, but like many children of the apocalypse has kept her humanity. Is she and children like her the answer to the cure we are looking for? Or are they the start of something entirely new? This book has also been adapted as a movie!

Cold Storage by David Koepp*

Years ago, a quickly growing fungal organism capable of wiping out humanity came dangerously close to spreading. It was contained and kept in cold storage underneath a military repository. Since then, a larger storage facility has been built on top, the dangers on the lower floor being largely forgotten. That is, until it makes a new attempt at escape. Now, two unsuspecting security guards might be all that stands in the way of complete extermination. This book is both funny and genuine in its characters, and genuinely creepy in its portrayal of body horror.

Salvaged by Madeline Roux

Rosalyn Devar is on the run from her famous family, and has run so far she ended up in space. Now she works as a "space janitor", being sent off to clean up the remains of failed research expeditions. But in trying to cope with her problems, she has fucked up on her job multiple times, and is now close to losing her position. Her last chance is the Brigantine: a research vessel gone silent, all crew presumed dead. But when she arrives to salvage it, Rosalyn discovers the crew isn't as dead as presumed. But are they still human - and will Rosalyn be able to keep her own humanity?

The Annual Migration of Clouds by Premee Mohamed

Novella. Reid is a young woman living in a small community after a climate collapse. Resources are scarce, but Reid's biggest problem is Cad, a mind-altering fungal parasite that lives inside her body. When she is offered a rare chance at attending a far-away university in a secluded dome community, Reid must decide whether to leave or stay to help support her community.

Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia*

Noemí Taboada is a glamorous and well-off young woman, but when she receives a frantic letter from her newly-wed cousin, Noemí must leave her glamorous life and travel to find out what is wrong. As she arrives at High Place, a mansion on the Mexican countryside, Noemí is met with mysteries and her cousin's new English family. As she tries to find out the truth behind High Place and its inhabitants, Noemí's only ally is the youngest son of the family. But will she be able to find out what so scared her cousin before it's too late for all of them?

Sorrowland by Rivers Solomon

A young pregnant woman flees a cult that left her body strange and changing in terrifying ways. Hiding from both a world wanting to oppress her and the cult seeking to force her back, she does her best to raise her children while trying to find out the truth of the cult and being pursued by a hunter in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Bleak and scary, Sorrowland is a book that will creep under your skin with horrors both fantastical and very, very real.

What Moves the Dead (Sworn Soldier duology) by T. Kingfisher

Novella. Alex Easton, retired soldier, travels to visit their childhood friends, siblings Madeline and Roderick Usher, after finding out that Madeline is dying. In the siblings' rural, ancestral home, Madeline walks in her sleep and looks to be fading away, while around it wildlife seems to be possessed by a strange force. With the help of a mycologist and an American doctor, Alex attempts to save Madeline and reveal the truth of her illness.

Wanderers (Wanderers duology) by Chuck Wendig

A strange illness has struck the United States: with no warning, random people with seemingly no connection simply get up and start walking. They do not eat, do not sleep, do not communicate, and they do not stop - and if you try to force them, they literally explode from the inside. Teenaged Shana isn't one of these sleepwalkers, but her little sister is. Unwilling to leave her sister on her own, Shana accompanies the growing flock of walkers, protecting them as one of many "shepherds". And this protection proves necessary, as the sleepwalkers is only the first step toward what might very well be the extinction of the human race. An 800 page epic, Wanderers is a slowburn apocalypse story with a multitude pov characters and plot threads, from fungal pandemics and all-knowing AI to the all too real portrayal of radicalization and bigotry.

The Dawnhounds (The Endsong series) by Sascha Stronach

The Dawnhounds is a book where you just kind of have to let the story and the world wash over you. It skirts the line of scifi and fantasy, with a futuristic world of environmentally friendly mushroom houses and deadly fungi bio weapons next to literally god-given superpowers and near-immortality. It’s really cool and unlike anything else I’ve ever read, but also a bit confusing. Bonus: it’s also sapphic!

Agents of Dreamland (Tinfoil Dossier trilogy) by Caitlín R. Kiernan

Novella. A government agent known only as the Signalman; a cult preying on the young and vulnerable, promising to usher in a new age; a woman who exists outside of time, searching for a way to save humanity. Agents of Dreamland is short, but includes many spooky elements, among them an alien and possibly world-ending fungi. The narrative is non-linear and a bit strange, but also fascinating.

The Genius Plague by David Walton

Soon after landing his dream job at the NSA, things get weird for Neil Johns. His brother Paul, a mycologist, returns from a trip to the Amazon, carrying a nearly lethal fungal infection and a strangely sharpened mind. At work, Neil starts picking up mysterious messages originating out of South America, where cases similar to that of Paul starts occurring. And strangest of all: all the infected seem to be working towards the same goal. Recommended with the caveat that, while the fungal stuff is really cool, The Genius Plague is also happy to idolize American intelligent agencies and demonize environmentalism and anti-imperialism.

Little Mushroom: Judgement Day (Little Mushroom duology) by Shisi

An Zhe isn’t human. He’s a mushroom who absorbed the DNA of a dying man, allowing him to take on human guise and leave the wilderness. Entering one of the last human bases, a place struggling to keep out the mutated and dangerous creatures of the wilds, An Zhe must keep his identity secret as he searches for something which was taken from him. While not my cup of tea (frankly, I need more female characters), Little Mushroom is an undeniably unique m/m romance novel.

Bonus AKA these don't technically involve any fungi but have similar vibes of parasites and nature corrupting the human

Parasite (Parasitology trilogy) by Mira Grant*

In the near future, a great leap in medical science has improved human health by leaps and bounds: a genetically engineered tape worm. Within a few years, almost every human has their own personal parasite implanted. But now, something is happening to the parasites - they want more, whether their hosts want to share or not.

Annihilation (Southern Reach trilogy) by Jeff Vandermeer

For decades, Area X has been completely cut off from humanity. The only ones to enter are small organized expeditions, many of which never return, or return... wrong. We follow the latest expedition, its participants known only as the anthropologist, the psychologist, the surveyor, and our narrator, the biologist. As they enter into Area X to try to find out its secrets, only one thing is for sure: they will never be the same again.

Wilder Girls by Rory Power

Young adult. Over a year ago, the Raxter School for Girls was hit by the Tox, a strange disease that killed off many and left the survivors' bodies slowly changing in terrifying ways. The island the school is on has been in quarantine since then, and the girls dare not leave the school grounds lest they become victims of wild animals changed by the Tox. But as they wait for the promised cure, one of the girls goes missing, and her friends are willing to do anything to find her. Unsettling, spooky, and sapphic, this is a unique read featuring body horror and messy, dangerous girls.

(Second) Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

City of Saints and Madmen (Ambergris trilogy) by Jeff Vandermeer

Ambergris, a city created by a mushroom-like people, is now the home of humans, but the original inhabitants are still there, residing beneath the city.

Creatures of Want and Ruin (Diabolist's Library series) by Molly Tanzer

It’s the prohibition era, and while Ellie does fishing during the day, at night she bootlegs moonshine in Long Island. But unbeknownst to Ellie, some of the booze she smuggles has a strange source: distilled from mushrooms by a cult, it causes those who drink it to see terrible things, such as the the destruction of Long Island.

Bloom by Wil McCarthy

The inner solar system has been overtaken by fast-reproducing, fast-mutating technogenic life. Humanity has fled to the outer solar system, hiding beneath the ice of Jupiter's moon, but even here they aren't safe from possible incursion of mycospores, which lead to deadly blooms. Now a group of astronauts venture back to an infected Earth.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Domestic

Astarion x Reader

Astarion had never considered himself a domestic.

Much like being ‘the hero’ of any story, he also never thought of himself as one for settling down. He always thought that was an innate trait within himself. To always be hungry for more; his vampirism just brought it out closer to the surface.

He couldn’t remember much of his human life after 200 years. But the few times he tried to think of his life, his former home, any family, a bitter copper taste would flood the back of Astarion’s throat. Not like blood, he was used to that, more like bile. Or that distinctive taste of disappointment. So, he didn’t try anymore.

He had a house when he was bound to Cazador, but it was never a home. As his master’s favorite & most efficient lure Astarion was granted greater freedoms than his siblings. But he was constantly reminded that nothing there was his. None of the lamps. None of the floorboards. None of the air he breathed was his. Everything was Cazador’s, and he was lucky to be given what he got.

Then he was granted freedom, via way of another imprisonment, and met [Y/N] and the others. The menagerie of unlikely heroes and thieves and just downright oddities of nature that were mashed together by happen stance. If not for their abduction, none of them would have given each other a second glance on the street. Let alone bonded in a way that could never be explained or replicated by anyone else.

And then there was [Y/N].

[Y/N] who offered him a place in their throng, even though it was probably against their better judgement at the time. [Y/N] who accepted him, even when his darkest secret was revealed, and he took advantage. [Y/N]…who always saw the better in him, even when he didn’t see it in himself, until he believed it too.

They gave him a purpose, friends, fun, real freedom. Not just to be out and about on his own but to choose what he wanted to do with it. So of course he had chosen them.

And now here he was. No longer in the grand palace of Cazadors steps, but in a small, cozy home he and [Y/N] had made for their own. The kind of place Astarion would call ‘quaint’ with that superior, classist sneer just under the compliment back in the day. Let’s be honest, if it was anyone else’s home, he still would. But this was his. This was his home. With his books, with his chair, with his fire, and his lover humming quietly from the bath in the other room. This was all his. He suddenly wondered what the aversion had been to all of this.

“Astarion…?”

The vampire’s attention perked up as he turned around and saw [Y/N] there. Damp from their bath, in one of those thin robes Gale had given them that he suspected was more of a gift for him than them, looking at him with those doe eyes that, even though he had the fortitude & freedom to do so now, he could never say no to.

“Oh, sorry my sweet. Did I keep you waiting? I was lost in my new book.” He closed the book just as he stood to greet them with a smile as he wrapped his arms around them. Sealing off any questions on it like the pages. Astarion’s life may be different, but old habits die hard. It was still so much easier to shift into his charming persona when cornered. Not that he was in danger. He just didn’t like to be snuck up on. “I planned to join you but looks like I missed my opportunity. Shame. Guess we’ll just have to get you dirty and try again.”

[Y/N] giggled at his antics when he kissed their ear. Without the parasite, they just have to trust what he says to them, and they do. Something Astarion would never take for granted. He also just doesn’t want to talk about what’s on his mind.

He wants to think about [Y/N] in his arms. Their fire behind them. Their bed around the corner. Their life together. Happy and content and domestic.

[deer-hearted]

Okay, ages ago I had an idea that was quite similar to @jellynut 's AU, but since it wasn't used like I intended it to, I decided to write it down now as a form of a gift.

I had it in my head for, like 7 years. Now it's your turn to get stuck with it.

Do demons have dreams?

He isn't sure when exactly has it all started, but it had to be something minuscule, not important enough to notice at all. Laughs that were just a tad more loud than usual, sudden waves of anger or annoyance he paid no attention to: he was a moody old geezer, after all, what's so special about it?

But it was special, in a way he absolutely didn't want it to be. Because the estranged emotions rolled out a red carpet, and the dreams followed suit. Places he had never been to, worlds he could never even try to imagine washed over his mind every night like waves licking the board of their boat. Some dreams were light as a feather, some left him nauseous and with a strong desire to take a shower. A crustless sandwich on a spotless white plate. Creatures with faces that didn't even look like faces. The wheel of a fancy car gripped tight by his own fingers. Strange magic rituals performed in a smoky haze. Piles of human hearts, apparently fresh-cut and still bleeding. A young man wearing a genuine smile and hope for the brighter future on a face identical to his own.

Oh, they were not just dreams. And Stanley knew who had to be the owner: sure enough, their mom made them sandwiches too, but not so... flat. Yeesh.

He had punched that triangle bastard so hard, that something must have started to seep through cracks. Something that could either poison them both, or, possibly, give him the upper hand.

Stanley sucks in a deep breath, staring at the waters below. Here we go.

"You there?"

Sharp pain strickes him right between his eyes to remind — yes, he is. He's always there, like some sort of parasite, waiting desperately to be surgically removed.

Oh, that's new. Now you wanna hear me? What's the matter, sailor? Got bored on that teeny-tiny boat of yours? Finally built the gut to eat your twin and don't know where to begin with? I could gladly instruct you, you know.

What? No. Concentration is the key. His fingers clench into fists tighter, knuckles turning pale white. He has to try it, he's running out of options. But could the parasite be even reasoned with?

"I have seen your dreams."

Pause. His breath hitches — and then turns into unwanted laughter, echoing a much louder one from the inside of his mind, shaking him to his very core.

No you haven't. I get it, you have been forgetting a lot of stuff lately, so let me get this clear for you: I AM A DREAM DEMON. How would it look like if I myself had dreams? Who would've haunted them? Me?

"Right, so instead of that abracadabra our subconscious brings up you see your own memories stuck on repeat, no?"

Pause. Waves hit the boat again and again.

Nonsense. Now you're just making stuff up about me. Obsessed much?

"How else would I know about that wonderful "All 70s Greatest Hits" sing-along you had with my brother?"

No response. Disgust coils inside him heavily, empowered by a single fact: all of it must be true indeed, then. But he must go on.

"He'd never tell me about that shit. You're inside my head, smartpants. You can check for yourself."

This time the deafening silence is different, for it is pregnant with meaning. Bill had no idea. He didn't know he knew and, what's more important, what he knew and if there's more.

He hit the nail. All he has to do now — to pull it through. Stanley grits his teeth with angry determination that might not be entirely his own and spits into the waves below.

"Alright, listen here, ya mama's boy. If I tell Sixer about you..."

Pain blinds him again, forcing to hiss. It's always ugly when Bill wants to emphasize his point.

You're not going to, we both know it.

"Shut it! WHEN I tell Sixer about you... I don't have to fill him on everything, ya know."

If the subsiding pain doesn't indicate Bill is listening intently now, he doesn't know what else to make of it.

"You can keep your awful memories to yourself, and whatever it is that you felt, too. That is — if you leave my memories alone. No messing with them, no deleting, no overwriting, no nothing. One slip up, and I stomp your goddamn pride into the ground. Am I clear?"

He's so tired, he wants to dive right into the ocean so the cold waves could wash away all the pain, the stiffness in his body, the images that are now bound to reside in his mind forever. But he also won, because the voice in his head is now steel-clean, and the words feel like a searing brand.

It's a deal, then.

[honeycollectswhump]

Augusnippets Day 14

toys/gifts/celebration

CW: self deprecation, fear of abandonment

Zero new messages.

Whumpee stared at their phone for what felt like the hundredth time. Still, it didn’t change the fact that Caretaker hadn’t opened their messages yet, or even went online. Their last message read “im busy today, sry” and they seemed to mean it. Even though every other time, Caretaker found time in their day to respond to Whumpee’s more and more frantic texts, today they might as well have disappeared off of the planet.

They couldn’t help but worry. What if Caretaker had grown tired of them, leaving like it was their right from the beginning? Whumpee was annoying, clingy even, practically stuck to Caretaker’s side like a parasite. 

Or horribly, frighteningly worse. What if something had happened to Caretaker? What if Whumper was really still out there and now struck, taking sweet revenge?

It was evening by now, without any response from their only friend. It wasn’t like they could just go outside, for a walk perhaps. The thought scared them too much. Instead, they paced for the dozenth time from their bedroom, over to the kitchen, rearranging decor and spices in an attempt to feel busy. 

Ping.

Whumpee lunged towards their phone like an attacking dog, nearly dropping it twice in their desperate attempt to unlock it. God, they were pathetic.

”are u home rn?” was all the message read. But it was from Caretaker! The relief was overwhelming! They still cared after all!

Their fingers couldn’t type the message fast enough, the embarrassing amount of typos betraying their desperation. Now Whumpee only had to wait for a response. They could do that. Patiently.

Suddenly, a knock on their door ripped them out of their trance of staring at the screen, waiting for a sign, any sign. Reluctantly, they put their phone in their pocket and made their way over to the door. It was rare, almost humiliatingly so, that they got any visitors. But it couldn’t be…

“Who is there?” Carefully, Whumpee put their ear to the door. 

“It’s me, Whumpee.” Came Caretaker’s voice, immediately lifting Whumpee’s spirits high up, their chest feeling light and breezy. They could hear Caretaker giggle, sounding like a wind chime. “Open the door please, I’m really struggling over here.”

Whumpee fumbled with their multiple locks as quickly as they could. This was what they had been waiting for their entire day.

Caretaker was waiting outside, an awkward grin on their face. “Happy Birthday, my darling.”

Dumbly, they could only stare, from the cake —the cake?— Caretaker was holding towards them to their expectant face. 

“I… I don’t remember my birthday…I don’t have one.” Whumpee stuttered. In the past year, they had come to terms with the things, the memories, they lost. Their birthday was just one of many.

”I know,” Caretaker replied sheepishly, “but i realized, you know, it’s been exactly a year since you escaped. And look how far you have gotten! That’s almost like a birthday, isn’t it?” They stopped, searching Whumpee’s face for any reaction. “We, we don’t have to do this of course. It can just be a cake for no reason.”

”My… my birthday…” They stared at the cake. “I could… choose my birthday?”

The thought was strange and new to them, so contrary to their feelings of having lost something irreplaceable. It had never even crossed their mind before. Their own birthday, the start of their new life so to speak. 

“… I’d like that.” They smiled and Caretaker’s face lit up instantly.

”I’m glad! Because I may have brought a bit more than just cake.” Turning around, they revealed a small package lying behind their feet. Somehow, Caretaker managed to hold the cake in one hand and pick the present up with the other, letting themselves into Whumpee’s apartment.

Still a bit dumbfounded, Whumpee followed them, watching as they arranged the cake and gift on the table. Caretaker fished out a candle and a lighter out of their pocket, decorating the cake (lemon, their favourite kind, Whumpee noticed belatedly) and then held out the present towards them. 

„Happy Birthday!“

@augusnippets

[vvitchchild]

After All That I Can Do For Them Is Done (Astarion/Tav)

"Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back..."

Astarion's story hit me directly in the grey-ace feelings and so I created this, an examination of Astarion's feelings regarding sex, specifically sex with his favourite travelling companion, mostly because I wanted to see it. After all, sex must be a complicated thing after 200 years.

I melded two scenes for the ending and made the hug longer, because god knows that man deserves more of a hug than the game gave him.

Also on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49515361

--------------------------------------------------------------

Intimacy was a strange creature to Astarion.

Not an unknown one, by any stretch of the imagination, but a complex one to be sure.

That which most viewed as the pinnacle of physical intimacy, the act of sex, was ironically an old bedfellow now. 200 years he had spent at its side, seducing, bedding, enticing, and all in the service of his master. Cazador. He was the anglerfish and Astarion the light that served as a pretty lure, leading unsuspecting prey towards the teeth. And when Cazador tired of new blood, then Astarion the lure became Astarion the plaything instead, for his master to toy with as he saw fit. How Astarion felt about his role or what was being done to him never much mattered and thus the concept of sex, and by extension intimacy, were thoroughly tarnished. To the vampire spawn, they were one and the same. Intimacy was nothing but a tool, a weapon in his arsenal and it was hardly his fault they all fell for it. He was good at what he did, even as he hated himself for it.

Look, see how Astarion works, how easily they fall for him, how expertly he manipulates them. He is one of my finest creations, don’t you think?

The blasted tadpole should have offered new opportunities. He was away from Cazador, out in the sunlight, the closest thing to freedom he had tasted in over two centuries of pure shit. In spite of this, however, he would still need to rest, and, more importantly, would need help removing the damn parasite in his skull. He needed a companion. After years as Cazador’s pet he knew only one way to keep another close and, well, instincts were hard to break, particularly when they had been beaten into him so very thoroughly.

The one he chose should have been easy prey. Found among the wreckage of the Nautiloid, they seemed at first to be as lost as him, carrying the same parasite in their skull. However they quickly proved themself indispensable, particularly in a fight, and determined to a fault. It would be prudent then for him to get on their good side, the side that would see him protected from his enemies, that would see him freed of the tadpole, the side that meant they would want to keep him around. So he began his plan. A simple seduction should have done it, a bait and snare, if you will, but one where he played both parts. He would now be the light and the teeth, and they the innocent, beautiful prey caught in his trap. 

And by the gods, were they beautiful.

He began with some casual flirtations, an innuendo laced comment here, a pointedly lingering look there. His seeds found fertile ground and began to take root, even though his diet of whatever animals he could get his hands on was putting him at less than his best. It was this very fact that proved just how successful he had been. 

They had caught him over them one night, fangs bared, all pretensions of civility momentarily forgotten as he prepared to feed out of sheer desperation. There was initial fear of course, they weren’t completely stupid, but then they just…trusted him? They lay back, baring their neck to him, allowing him to take his first taste of a thinking creatures’ blood, to drink deeply from them and only pushing him away when they absolutely needed to. Did they know what a gift they had given? While part of him was repulsed by their blind trust of something like him, another, louder part marvelled. How well his plan must have been working for them to react that way already.

This is what I made you for, my pet, and how well you have worked, how many pretty creatures you have brought me.

After that night, he intensified his efforts, now sure of his approach. He could see the effect he was having in the way their eyes always seemed to land on him, how their smile curled crooked on bitten lips whenever they talked together. Most importantly though, he could hear it in how their heartbeat sped up each time he was near, leaving them practically glowing. It didn’t take long before he was finally taking them to bed and beneath his lips and tongue and fingers, they bloomed. Praise fell easily from their kiss bruised mouth, of how good he was for them, of how perfect he felt. Hands petted his hair, caressed his face, dug nails into his back as he moved through the motions of a well practised dance. The gentleness with which they touched him, handled him, should have unnerved him. But he was drunk on his plan having worked so well. This was what he had wanted, what he had worked for, coming to fruition and it was beautiful.

They were beautiful.

And if he found himself wanting to linger, wanting to make sure no harm came to them as it had to his previous conquests, that was neither here nor there. The irony of something like him wanting to protect them from harm was not lost on him. Besides the tadpole and the Illithids that had put it there, was he not the creature doing the most damage to them? Biting them, taking their blood, manipulating them? And yet they still carefully asked about the scars on his back, the poem carved into his flesh by his master, the story bringing out a rage in him that he quickly swallowed, coating it in distanced charm so he could hurry them away.

Stay still, Astarion, or do you want me to begin again? Poetry takes artistry and artistry takes time. You want to be good for me, don’t you? Then stay still.

They sought him out again after that, seeming eager for more of what he could give them, and it was so very easy to follow instinctual, learnt behaviour. Sex was what he was good at, after all, what he was good for. Besides, it was far from a hardship to take them to bed, to press inside them and watch as they took their pleasure from him before he followed them over the edge. He couldn’t exactly complain. Though, if he was honest with himself, his favourite part of the whole affair wasn’t the sex itself but the closeness, the warmth of their skin on his own, their fingers interlocked like an anchor, their scent lingering on his clothes. And as time went on, that became what he looked forward to. The chance to be close to someone who seemingly wanted nothing in return. They gave so freely of themselves, of their body, their blood, their time, their trust. Objectively, it was a stupid thing for them to do and by all accounts it should have disgusted him. Instead it sat warm in his chest, feeling for all the world like Karlach’s infernal engine. Sometimes he feared the glow might show through his skin and make the way he felt obvious to any who might look.

Gods below, that concept terrified him. Developing feelings had never been part of his plan because it had never happened before. Was it simply that his conquests were never his long enough for that, always whisked away by Cazador before he could get attached? Or was it that this one was different, that they treated him with a kindness that felt so undeserved, that they had said they would protect him and had gone on to prove it? Sometimes they came to him in the evening to simply sit with him and talk, leaning against his side and lightly tracing their fingertips over the veins on his hand. At a loss of what they wanted from him, he would slide a finger under their chin, pressing lingering kisses to their lips, their jaw, their neck, pull them closer, slide a hand up their thigh. Anything to try and get them to stick to the script, to let him take them to bed, and while sometimes it worked, often they would gently but firmly remove his hands or his lips from wherever they had found themselves and tell him they just wanted to spend time with him. Like that was a normal thing and he should know what to do with that.

What was he supposed to do when they didn’t want sex? 

Who was he supposed to be? 

Of course he had his sparkling wit, that was a given, but the idea of someone wanting him just for his company, no sex involved, seemed so very foreign as to be impossible. Had they not seen the truth of him? Were they purposefully ignoring it for the sake of familiarity? People like him, creatures like him, did not get kindness and certainly not for free. It made him wonder what it could have been like, what they could have been had he remained just an elf in Baldur’s Gate. A person, not a monster, no greater crimes to his name than taking a few bribes, no literal blood on his hands, no parasites in their skulls. But much like his face, it was something now far beyond his grasp. Another thing stolen from him by Cazador he supposed. Gods, for all his talk of freedom, had anything truly changed? Was he not still doing what he had been made for, what he had done so many times before? Putting on a performance of intimacy that was nothing more than a means to an end.

Oh how precious! He actually believes you care. You’ve truly excelled yourself, pet. Now away, they are not for you. Besides, there are more for you to bring to me.

It came to a head as the party made their way into the Underdark. He was already on edge as the sky disappeared and they began the journey down. It was too reminiscent of the catacombs of Cazador’s castle, the cool, damp darkness felt so oppressive as to almost physically choke him and weigh him down. It had made him irritable, his temper short, but he had done his best to keep it under control round his…companion? Lover? He no longer knew how to refer to them, but he knew exploding in anger would certainly ruin things between them, surely then they would see the mistake they had made in trusting him. They would find information here, he just needed to get through this and it would be okay. He would be okay. 

And then they’d found the alchemist. Araj Oblodra. A drow whose blood was so corrupted he could smell it before they were even near her. She had asked him to bite her, he had rather firmly turned her down, and then she had turned to his companion, talking about him as though he were their property, begging them to force him. And they had backed him, reaffirming the ‘no’ he had given her in the first place, being so nice that it set his pointed teeth on edge. The moment they were away from the alchemist, he snapped at them, growling like some infernal beast that he didn’t need their pity nor their help, that he was a perfectly capable vampire spawn, thank you very much. His tone was harsh, his words bitten out, far too much anger laced into them. The moment his companion’s face crumpled, though he could tell they tried to hide it, self-loathing bloomed, spreading like a blood stain and leaving him cold as all the rage he had felt earlier was directed at its true target. Himself. 

They barely spoke for the rest of the day, leaving him realising just how much he longed for the sound of their voice, how it was like music to his ears that easily kept away his darker thoughts. Without it, they all but consumed him, leaving him adrift. 

Now now, pet, don’t scowl, you’re ruining a perfectly beautiful thing. And you want to be my beautiful thing, don’t you? No? Then I will have to change your mind, won’t I?

He needed to fix this, immediately. Get them back into bed, so he could show them how indispensable he was, how good he could be if only they would keep him around. He couldn’t risk losing them, not now. The thought alone made his dead heart ache in his chest, the idea of being without them truly and utterly agonising.  No one had ever cared for him the way they did, spared a kind word for him before them. They saw him as a person, an individual with his own thoughts and wants, not a mindless tool to be used for their own ends, not the awful monster he so often felt he was. He wanted so desperately to cling to them with both hands, not wanting to imagine them leaving him behind, finding comfort in the embrace of one of the others. 

Perhaps if they knew the truth? They had been understanding thus far had they not? If he could just explain, prostrate himself before them that they might forgive him, that they might understand. He owed them the truth, after all they had done for him. He only prayed to any deity that might finally look favourably on him that they would not cast him out.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.”

They’d made camp that evening, or what he could only assume was evening, and he’d made his way over to them once the others were occupied with their own business. The last he needed was an audience for what could easily be his undoing. His words came out carefully, tone jovial enough to not warrant suspicion. Clearly his performance skills were beginning to flag as they immediately asked if he was alright. Of course they did, so concerned with his well-being when he could see the bruises that blossomed under their skin, the dark circles around their eyes. How selfish could he possibly be?

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I just…feel awful…” He took a moment in an attempt to steady himself, like a deep breath before a dive, and then it all came out like vomit. How he had used his body for two hundred years, what he had been for Cazador, how he could have just relied on old habits and bitten that vile drow woman,the truth of his plan regarding his seduction of them so they would stay with him, and then how that had rather spectacularly fallen apart when he realised he had developed feelings for them. All the while, they stood there, silent as they listened, letting him get everything out like the damned saint they were.

“You’re-… you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

There it was. Out in the open for them to take or leave. He felt positively flayed before them, his vulnerability fully exposed. What an utter fool he was. He could feel himself bracing for punishment, for the razor sharp lick of a whip, the deep carving ache of a blade. 

“So the nights we spent together didn’t mean anything?”

Their words were worse than any of Cazador’s harsh weapons, spoken cautiously so their voice didn’t waver but he didn’t need the tadpole to feel the hurt coming from them in waves. Gods, he had done that to them.

“Of course they did!” He needed to reassure them, fix what he had done, anything to get that glassy look from their eyes. He would have dropped to his knees right there in camp if they’d asked. “That’s the problem or, at least, part of it.” Taking a slow breath, he took a step closer to them. They deserved an explanation, he needed them to understand that his problems, his shortcomings, were not their doing. “Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to.”

Please, he silently begged them, please don’t turn me away. You’ve made my dead heart beat in ways I didn’t think it could anymore. I need you to tell me I am worthy of care even if I never want to be intimate with you again, that I’m not simply a body to be used, a means to an end. Please.

“I care about you.” They met his gaze, something seemingly renewed in them as they spoke. “Very deeply.”

“Really?” He couldn’t help but steel himself for the other boot, the one that would see him punished, cast aside. After all he had told them, they couldn’t still-

They were holding him, their body so very warm against his own, their arms wrapped around his waist but not tightly enough to feel constricting. Their wonderful, familiar scent filled his senses, their musk, the smoke of the fire, the lingering earthy scent from the moss they’d fallen into earlier, and underneath all the rich smell of their blood. The first olive branch they had offered him. All instincts he knew told him to slide a hand into their hair, guide their mouth to his own, press his body close against theirs, slide a hand between their legs. But no, they were his teacher now and so he followed their lead, wrapping his arms carefully around them, wary of any battle injuries that Shadowheart had not yet seen to. Nuzzling his nose into the crook of their neck, he breathed deep, resisting the urge to kiss and bite. 

He could be better, he would be better. 

“Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing,” he murmured, his words meant only for the two of them, “or what comes next. But I know that this?” He gave their waist a light squeeze for emphasis, “this is nice.”

Truth be told, he was terrified. This was so far from anything he knew and it left him feeling as though he were in freefall. Cazador had created him to be used. Consumed. And for all those long, terrible years he’d been unable to see himself as anything but what he’d been made for.

Yet here they were, their warm hand in his, seeing him with no judgement, offering him a different path, one where he could be more, where he could be better than what his master had intended. A person who could be loved, cherished, whose life was their own to do with as he wished. And didn’t he deserve that? Didn’t he deserve to be free?

There was still much work to be done, binds to break, mindflayer tadpoles to remove, vampiric masters to horribly murder, but it all felt just that bit more possible with their hand holding his.

Intimacy was a strange creature to Astarion.

Not an unknown one, to be clear, but one that he was only just beginning to learn the full extent of. One that encompassed far more than he could have ever imagined, that had previously been shrouded and held far beyond his reach.

But now? Now he had the chance to be known.

To love.

To be loved.

All of it without the expectation of sex, and what a strange feeling that was. It would take time to adjust, to be sure, two hundred years of instinct was not something one simply shook off over night. But through them he was able to see that he was worth the effort it would take, worth the time. 

He had served Cazador for two wretched centuries with his blood and body and mind, his own fight deserved nothing less than the same.

[picturesofthegoneworlds]

Red

(so I wrote something to go with those @flybyenight vampmogen drawings...)

Thirty years should feel like a blink to Imogen and all of her centuries, but with Laudna-

“N-no, I just-”

She feels like a child again, every moment new, fascinating, somethin’ to fixate and wonder on.

“You’re very flustered.”

Laudna’s pulse thunders in her ears

“I hate these social events.”

That is true. Bein’ formidable only got her so far- far from far; hundreds of years reclusive inside the walls of her mansion, every tile and piece of parquet imbedded in her muscle memory. Laudna lured her out, inflicted an existence on her that aligned something close to living, as close as she could be forgiven; experience varied rather than the slow-rot which incubated an un-compostable mush of days to years to decades

gifted burden with herself

Imogen evolved to keep an eye over her shoulder (over Laudna’s)

The mind-reading thing is less of a curse there, at least, eased the paranoia

“We can always leave…”

“I wouldn’t forgive m’self, y’all really pulled it off gettin’ us here - I was even invited through the threshold an’ all-”

Laudna pulls gently on one of Imogen’s braces, adjusts her shirts pleated collar so it sits correctly beneath it.

“And with a bow, too- should I be worried you will bend a knee for someone else?”

“My actin’ can only go so far-” Laudna would argue with her on that “-the heiress was smellin’ real good though.”

“Oh?”

Laudna never gets jealous, she understands Imogen’s needs, allied herself with the parasite, entertained and engaged with those needs too, more importantly.

“Pampered life, virgin blood. Can’t say the same for her partner.”

“How scandalous”

“Ya’ll should of heard what he was thinkin’ about the busboy”

“The half-orc?” Imogen hums affirmative “-Indulge me.”

Imogen can’t help the breathy scoff that accompanies her smirk.

“In the servants’ kitchen, must’ve been between prep and assembly…”

Imogen’s hand meanders to Laudna’s hip, pad of her thumb reading the threads of intricate lace layered over delicate silk, smooth in how it glides over the supple skin underneath, the slight fat and muscle and nerves between it and her pelvic bone in their own decorative organic pattern. Imogen can trace it all, appreciate the artisanal hand of the lacemaker and the flesh that crawled from riverbed and evolved and morphed into this human - would like to think that she could despite the aid of her curses, despite her hyperawareness leaving many things that should be illegible to be reading material - grey matter and venous system

She leans up and in towards Laudna's ear (her breath inhales, pulse picks up in pace) her teeth graze at her earlobe, Imogen feels the energy humming in the raw nerves of her canines, the aching swell in her gums to accommodate

Stacked silverware and serving trays, linens bunched around ankles

[notstarcey]

She Magnus on my archives til I

I itch all the time. Deep beneath my skin, where the bone sits, enshrined in flesh, I feel it. Something, not moving but that wants to move. Wants to be free. It itches, and I don’t think I want it. I don’t know what to do.

You can’t help me. I don’t think so, at least. But whatever it is that calls to me, that wants me for its own, it hates you. It hates what you are and what you do. And if it hates you, then maybe you can help me. If I wanted to be helped. I don’t know if I do. You must understand, it sings so sweetly, and I need it, but I am afraid. It isn’t right and I need help. I need it to be seen. To be seen in the cold light of knowledge is anathema to the things that crawl and slither and swarm in the corners and the cracks. In the pitted holes of the hive.

You can’t see it, of course. It isn’t real. Not like you or I are real. It’s more of an everywhere. A feeling. Are you familiar with trypophobia? That disgusted fear at holes, irregular, honeycombed holes. Makes you feel that itch in the back of your mind, like the holes are there too, in your own brain, rotten and hollow and swarming. Is that real?

I’m sorry, I know I’m meant to be telling you what happened. What brought me to this place. This place of books and learning, of sight and beholding. I’m sorry. I should. I will.

I… I haven’t slept in some time. I can’t sleep. My dreams are crawling and many-legged. Not just slithering and burrowing,. though it is the burrowing that draws me. They always sing that song of flesh. I hope you will forgive me for such a rambling story. I hope you will forgive me for a great many things, as it may be I do worse. I have that feeling, that instinct that squirms through your belly. There will be great violence done here. And I bleed into that violence.

Do you know, I wonder? As I watch you sitting there through the glass. Eating a sandwich. Do you know where you are? You called me “dear”. “Have a seat, dear.” “You can write it down, dear.” “Take as much time as you need, dear.” Can you truly know the danger you are in?

There is a wasps’ nest in my attic. A fat, sprawling thing that crouches in the shadowed corner. It thrums with life and malice. I could sit there for hours, watching the swirls of pulp and paper on its surface. I have done. It is not the patterns that enthral me, I’m not one of those fools chasing fractals; no, it’s what sings behind them. Sings that I am beautiful. Sings that I am a home. That I can be fully consumed by what loves me.

I don’t know how long the nest has been there. It’s not even my house, I just live there. Some sweaty old man thinks he owns it, taking money for my presence as though it will save him. I used to worry about it, you know. I remember, before the dreams, I would spend so long worrying about that money. About how I could afford to live there. Now I know that whatever the old man thinks, as he passes about the house with brow crinkled and mouth puckered in disapproval, it is not his. It has a thousand truer owners who shift and live and sing within the very walls of the building. He does not even know about the wasps’ nest. I wonder how long he has not known. How many years it has been there.

Have you ever heard of the filarial worm? Mosquitoes gift it with their kiss and it grows and grows. It stops water moving round the human body right, makes limbs and bellies swell and sag with fluid. Now, when I look at that fat, sweaty sack, I think about it, and the voice sings of showing him what a real parasite can do.

How many months has it been like this? Was there a time before? There must have been. I remember a life that was not itching, not fear, not nectar-sweet song. I had a job. I sold crystals. They were clean, and sharp and bright and they did not sing to me, though I sometimes said they did. We would sell the stones to smiling young couples with colour in their hair. I remember, before I found the nest, someone new came. His name was Oliver, and he would look at me so strangely. Not with lust or affection or contempt, but with sadness. Such a deep sadness. And once with fear. It didn’t matter, because no-one in the shop wanted to hear about the ants below it. I tried to tell them, to explain, but they did not care. The pretty young things complained and I left.

That was when I still called myself a witch. Wicca and paganism, I would spend my weekends at rituals by the Thames. I wanted something beyond myself, but could not stomach the priest or the imam or pujari of the churches. I knew better. I knew that it was not so simple as to call out to well-trodden gods. I never felt from my rituals anything except exhaustion and pride. I thought that those were my spiritual raptures.

I wish, deep inside, below the itch, that they were still my raptures. I have touched something now, though, that all my talk of ley lines and mother goddesses could never have prepared me for. It is not a god. Or if it is then it is a dead god, decayed and clammy corpse-flesh brimming with writhing graveworms.

When did I first hear it? It wasn’t the nest, I’m sure of that. I never went in the attic. It was locked and I didn’t have a key. I spent a day sawing through the padlock with an old hacksaw. My hands were blistered by the end. Why would I have done that if I didn’t know what I would find? The face of the one who sang to me dwelling within the hidden darkness above me. I had seen no wasps. I know I hadn’t. There are no wasps in the nest. So how else would I have known that I needed to be there, to be in the dark with it, if it had not already been singing to me?

No, that’s not right. The nest does not sing to me. It is simply the face. Not the whole face, for the whole of the hive is infinite. An unending plane of wriggling forms swarming in and out of the distended pores and honeycombed flesh. The nest is nothing but paper.

Was it the spiders? There were webs in the corners, around the entryway into the attic. I would watch them scurry and disappear in between the wooden boards. ‘Where are you going, little spiders?’ I would think. ‘What are you seeing in the dark? Is it food? Prey? Predators?’ I wondered if it was the spiders that made the gentle buzzing song. It was not. Webs have a song as well, of course, but it is not the song of the hive.

I used to pick at my skin. It was a compulsion. I would spend hours in the bathroom, staring as close as I could get to my face to the mirrors, searching for darkened pores to squeeze and watch the congealed oil worm its way out of my skin. Often I would end with swollen red marks where it had become inflamed with irritation or infection. Did I hear the song then?

Was it when I was a child, such a clear memory of a classmate telling me a blackhead was a hole in my face, and if I didn’t keep it clean it would grow and rot. Did I hear it then, as that image lodged in my mind forever? Or was it last year, passing by a strip of green they call a park near my house, after the rain, and watching a hundred worms crawl and squirm to the surface.

Perhaps I’ve always heard it. Perhaps the itch has always been the real me, and it was the happy, smiling Jane who called herself a witch and drank wine in the park when it was sunny. Maybe it was her who was the maddened illusion that hides the sick squirming reality of what I am. Of what we all are, when you strip away the pretence that there is more to a person than a warm, wet habitat for the billion crawling things that need a home. That love us in their way.

I need to think. To clear my head. To try and remember, but remember what? I was lonely before. I know that. I had friends, at least I used to, but I lost them. Or they lost me. Why was it? I remember shouting, recriminations, and I was abandoned. No idea why. The memories are a blur. I do remember that they called me “toxic”. I don’t think I really knew what that meant, except that it was the reason I was so very painfully lonely. Was that it? Was I swayed and drawn simply by the prospect of being genuinely loved? Not loved as you would understand it. A deeper, more primal love. A need as much as a feeling. Love that consumes you in all ways.

You can’t help me. I’m sure of that now. I have tried to write it down, to put it into terms and words you could understand. And now I stare at it and not a word of it is even enough to fully describe the fact that I itch. Because ‘itch’ is not the right word. There is no right word because for all your Institute and ignorance may laud the power of the word, it cannot even stretch to fully capture what I feel in my bones. What possible recourse could there be for me in your books and files and libraries except more useless ink and dying letters? I see now why the hive hates you. You can see it and log it and note it’s every detail but you can never understand it. You rob it of its fear even though your weak words have no right to do so.

I do not know why the hive chose me, but it did. And I think that it always had. The song is loud and beautiful and I am so very afraid. There is a wasps’ nest in my attic. Perhaps it can soothe my itching soul.

[honeysunai]

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖

Gale Dekarios x female sorceress

During his travels to find a cure for the illithid parasites, Gale encountered an old flame in Baldur's Gate. author’s note: This is some sad love for our favorite wizard of Waterdeep. wordcount: 1.7k

As you graciously attended to the familiar faces in your bustling tavern, the entrancing tunes of the new bard added a magical note to the lively ambiance. Amidst the laughter and clinking of mugs, your world momentarily froze as the gaze of your first love, the renowned Wizard of Waterdeep, Gale, met yours. A surge of emotions coursed through you, causing an unfortunate mishap - two drinks slipping from your grasp. Time seemed suspended, your heart echoing the unexpected reunion. Swiftly regaining composure, you knelt to address the spill, apologizing to the patrons.

"Hello, y/n," Gale spoke with a gentle tone, bending down to offer a helping hand.

"Don't worry about it," you replied, standing up and disposing of the remaining ale from the dropped mugs.

"I didn't know you were in Baldur's Gate."

"How would you have known? You left long before I did," bitterness seeping into your words as you magically crafted drinks to entertain the guests.

He chuckled. "Never lost your sparkle either."

"Gale, I don't know why you're in town, but go bother someone else." Frustration and unresolved emotions lingered as you went back behind the bar.

"You're a talented sorceress; why are you wasting it?"

"Manners have lost you, it seems," you said, avoiding his gaze while cleaning mugs. "Besides, I was given a gift I didn't earn, that's what you told me once. So no, I am not wasting anything that wasn't already wasted."

"I was a prick, wasn't I?" He chuckled. "All I'm saying is that you could become so much greater than you already are! There's Sorcerous Sundries a few streets further; I'm sure they'd be honored to have you there." You scoffed at that.

"If you're able to get rid of the stick up Lorroakan's ass, maybe I'll reconsider." Gale's laughter echoed in the tavern. "Look, Gale, it might not be the same adventures we used to have, chasing fairy tales, dancing, and singing in the inns of Waterdeep, but this is my life now, and I am content with it."

"Content is not the same as happy."

"Well, you don't get to decide that for me." You finally looked up at him with a bitter expression.

"I know you, y/n ╴."

"No, you don't, Gale, just as I don't know the man I'm looking at right now." You almost burst out. "If you're not buying drinks for you or your companions, I'm going to ask you to leave, please."

"Understood," he sighed before leaving the Elfsong.

After a long day at work and dealing with unpleasant company, you yearned for the solace awaiting you at home. The weight of the day clung to your shoulders as you eagerly anticipated the embrace of a long lavender bath, a sanctuary for your weary soul. The mere thought of the calming scent and warm water offered a respite from the chaos that had unfolded throughout the day.

"By the Gods." You gasp as you find Gale sat by your door step. "Did you wait for me this entire time?"

"I have," Gale admitted, his smile carrying a hint of both longing and remorse. "Wasn't hard to find your house as well, an eye carved on the door for Helm to watch over you."

"Can't be too careful."

"Also, you have your odd friend on your roof," he mentioned, referring to Melusine, your crow.

You cross your arms over your chest. "You're lucky she didn't attack you; she holds you dearly in her heart."

"Does her mistress?" He smirks, but you weren't in the mood to give in his question.

"Gale, what do you want?" He stood up and approached you. In the past, his gentle and caring gaze had the power to make you falter, but not today. You held your ground, meeting his eyes with a newfound strength that echoed the resilience you had cultivated since those earlier, more vulnerable years.

His towering presence no longer had the same effect it once did. You could sense the familiarity in his gaze, the memories of shared moments and the echo of emotions, but it no longer held the power to sway you as it once had. The strength you had discovered within yourself over the years stood as a shield, protecting you from the vulnerability that used to accompany his gentle eyes. "I always wondered where you left." He spoke so softly it made your heart rattle. "I saw you that day, when you left Waterdeep, you just left in the middle of the night without saying goodbye."

"They've had enough of one wizard, they didn't need a sorceress." You retort. "Why would I look back Gale?" You ask him as if it was obvious. "Why would I want to look back at you? You and your books, your wine and your tower?" Your voice was breaking as your anger was finally showing. "We both know you only had eyes for Mystra and that's why I didn't bother to see or even wonder if you were okay with me leaving, because I knew you wouldn't care."

"It's not like that—"

"Don't lecture me; gods know you loved to do that," you scoffed with tears in your eyes. "Gale, you left me for Mystra. You chose her over me, and I just couldn't compete. Plain and simple. When I finally moved on, I found my way to the center of Baldur's Gate and made a name for myself here. It's far from perfect, but I like it here." Your words lingered for a few beats, he never moved his gaze form your eyes. "You were my first love and I've loved you deeply and wholeheartedly for all the years we were together even when we hated each other younger, but you shattered my heart like what we had meant nothing to you."

"I know I chose Mystra, and for that, I carry the weight of regret every single day. I've replayed the scenes of your heartbreak, seen the tears I caused you, and it haunts me. These years of absence have been a relentless ache in my heart, and you, my dear, have never left my mind nor my heart."

"Gale—"

"I thought what I was yearning for was Mystra's embrace and the power that came with it," Gale continued, his voice trembling with sincerity, "but she never had your warmth, the gentle cadence of your laugh when I fumbled with my words. She never had that unique glint in her eyes when she looked at the world—not like you do. Mystra could never hold a candle to you, and it was my foolishness, swayed by her enchanting promises, that led me astray from the love that was rightfully yours. It is a regret that lingers, a wound that time has failed to heal." A single tear fell from your eye and Gale's gentle hand caressed your cheek, wiping the tear with his thumb. "Your absence in my life has been a constant reminder of what I let slip away. The echoes of your laughter and the sparkle in your eyes haunt my dreams. I wish for the chance to turn back time, to rectify the choices I made that tore us apart. My biggest regret is not realizing sooner that you were the true magic in my life. Y/n, you meant the world to me."

His remorse, like an open wound, echoed through the room, and you felt the weight of his regrets pressing on your heart. His words had stirred emotions long buried, and the ache of lost love resurfaced.

The vulnerability in Gale's eyes mirrored the sorrow in your own, creating a poignant tableau of two souls bound by a history neither could escape.

Without uttering a word, you stepped closer to Gale, closing the distance that time and choices had carved between you. His gaze remained fixed on you, a mixture of desperation and hope in his eyes.

You lifted a trembling hand to cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his lips. His arms enveloped you with an intensity that bordered on desperation, as if he feared you might once again slip away from his grasp. In that embrace, you felt the raw passion that had long been buried beneath layers of regret and longing.

Gale held you as though you were the very air he inhaled, and for the first time in a long while, he was truly breathing. The warmth of his embrace became a lifeline, a resurgence of life in a heart that had been burdened by the absence of your presence.

Your lips parted and he leaned his forehead against yours, nose touching. A soft smile plastered on his handsome face.

"Only when you truly get let go of Mystra, will I let you back into my heart, Gale Dekarios." You promised him. "I've heard from Melusine of your condition." You admit. "I may never had looked back, but someone had to check on you, you were always the one getting into odd mishaps. If not me, then who?" You softly chuckles.

"In the meantime, just know that you have me whole, my body, soul and heart, my darling." His lips pressed to your forehead.

You hesitated before speaking. "Come on, it's late." You nodded towards your home. "We should get to bed." You'd hope he'd take the hint and follow you to your bed.

"I can't, because if I do follow you to bed. I'll never leave you again and I would forsake the purpose that brought me here in the first place, and the illusion of having an eternity to revel in each other's company would dissipate." Him and his pretty words... You nod before he kissed you, a cascade of raw passion that hinted at the promise of a more beautiful tomorrow, one intricately entwined with him.

"Well, finish quickly. We have much to discuss and catch up on." You share a soft smile before he eagerly steals a kiss, as if collecting a bit of luck wherever he may need it.

"Indeed we do, love." He told you before he slowly made his way to his unknown whereabouts. Hoping he'd ever see you again.

[funsizesira]

Hello!! Sira got some more updates. She herself stayed the same but her symbiotic counterpart here got an absolute makeover! Hazmat’s original new design came from a character i was gifted by @y1pperk1p on discord and on here, i really loved them and im glad they could become part of one of my mains. Hazmat has been the same almost the entire time it has existed, as just a black goopy creature with white eyes and a mouth. The colors compliment one another much more now and Hazmat definitely fits Sira’s host body much more in design and aesthetic now >:3 I really ahve fallen in love with these two fully now that they both have been redesigned and ugh am I HAPPY !!!!

Believe it or not, these two cuties are the same being!

Short version of Sira/Hazmat lore:

Hazmat has lore as its own sentient being. He had a body of her own a long time ago and it actually looked eerily similar to the form it takes now just, Yknow, a hell of. a lot creepier !! Many more of the red eyes and a much uncannier smile and of course just even more weirdly proportioned limbs. Since sira obviously has a normal body this is a whole symbiotic situation. Like literally it hyperfixated on venom when this became a part of Sira and I have kept it since, though obviously she’s now changing teehee >:3 - his body was destroyed and it was reduced to nothing more than a powerful parasite that could lend her power to a host. Through this process she was taken into custody of a lab and it was experimented on. Once or twice on volunteers which didn’t turn well, maybe turning into a corpse or a few to attempt the hosting following that, lastly a lab cultivated host. This was a powerful vessel that almost turned Hazmat back into his original form before she went haywire on the lab and everyone in it, the host body corroded just as quickly as it shredded his sanity. After the body was no more than sludge to join the rest of her the “sludge” was carted off to a river which then runs through a creek in you guessed it !!

Sira’s just out bathing in a creek one day, shes little, only 6 and all on her own. Having escaped a church she was born into that indoctrinated and exploited her very much so, they just wanted to be alone. But suddenly the water is murky, too dark and thick to be water, she is enveloped in a void. This poor little baby is freaking out until an oddly familiar voice that has undertones of her mother fills her mind. The voice soothed her and whispered comforting things in the back of their mind until it was gone. They blinked suddenly and she was sitting out of the water on the soft moss that grew near the creek wrapped in the little beach towel she had found along the way. She couldn’t tell what was different, though something felt off and her being felt scarier and darker inside. But her mind was fuzzy and she wasn’t old enough to have any concept of a symbiotic relationship. For a long time Hazmat was their main carer/protector, 9 years until Silas comes into the picture and swoops them under his wing as a big brother. Hazmat helped them both stay safe while Sira kept them level-headed. During this time Hazmat grew love for her like a familial bond but it’s hard to distinctly tell if it’s more motherly/daughterly or if it’s the other way around because of the amount of times they’ve taught one another things like their mothers would have is insane /silly

Anyways yeah i have much more solid lore but you guys get this for now lmao, enjoy ! ~

[carnocus]

WRITEBLR RE-INTRO

Hello! I am a 18 year old Ukrainian-American writer who is coming back to running this blog. My pen name keeps changing but currently I'm going by the pen name "Vasyl Veles" on here, Vas for short.

My original posts are tagged as "#vas's posts". Most of my reblogs are queued. I am open to and love participating in tag and ask games!

I tend to write in the horror, sci-fi, and dark fantasy genres. I am a big fan of using dark aspects of fiction to explore intellectual themes, and enjoy writing a lot about nature, science, and queer experiences. I also loveee speculative biology. I write both short stories and novels, and am not yet published (but currently submitting stories to some writing competitions, wish me luck!).

Other than writing, I am also a big fan of goth, industrial, and metal music, and am passionate about science and mathematics. I also greatly enjoy DIY and art, and hope to post some of those projects on here in addition to writing.

General Taglist (message to be added or removed): @euphoniouspandemonium @theglitchywriterboi

works in progress:

THE AGE OF CARNOCUS:

Also called "Karniv"

current main project - dystopian sci-fi horror fantasy - planning/drafting - novel series/worldbuilding project - tagged as #the age of carnocus

An God parasitizes the Earth, transforming it as his amalgamations of flesh and blood storm human society. He grants humans a gift so that they survive.

Centuries later, a new generation of aspiring scientists assembles at a lead university. Their mission, as stated by the Clergy that rules them, is to discover the depths their ability to manipulate flesh. As the students perform their experiments, creatures crawl out of the basement and killers rise from the dead. A question looms over them. Do they keep their discoveries secret, or share them and risk destroying the world?

WIP Intro

Character List

Character Intro: Lysander

Character Intro: Micah

Character Intro: Colette

Character Intro: Ezra

Character Intro: Quinn

Ask Game : TAOC Worldbuilding (age of world, diseases, common items, swear words).

Taglist: @coffeewritesfiction @serendipminiewrites

ARCHITECTURE OF AGGRESSION

collection of short stories - psychological and body horror - drafting - tagged as #architectureofaggression

From a carnivorous house to a body swap, this is a collection of stories about the grotesque architecture of both buildings and bodies.

My two favorite stories:

The Diorama: A man is haunted by his deceased mother's plan for him to continue her career as an architect. An allegory for how parents push their own dreams onto their children, but through body horror.

The House of Famish: A woman moves into her ancestral home with her wife, and soon discovers her wife doesn't have what it takes to care for the house. An allegory for how toxic family traditions can become ingrained in people.

WIP Intro

ASSORTED DIY PROJECTS

my patch vest

embroidered spiderweb jacket

That's it for now! Thanks for reading :)

[cryptidcryptic]

Oc interactions🫀

Thank you for the tag @zekeen 🥹 you are the sweetest human ever 🌸💞🌸

My oc

Bo (Botany before they forgot it with brain damage), a one of the bhaalspawn, a pink bubblegum creature who looks entirely unnatural despite being a Druid. Even their body is and sex changes after each wildshape, everything is changeable with them. Honestly their father pretty much just hit random on the character creature this time.

Bo, bhaalspawn they are, came about much the same way as most other spawn. Big daddy B thought the blood of the spawns was getting a little diluted, and turned to his most zealous zealot.

A Tiefling that came from an isolated shadow Druid community. The best place to raise a ruthless spawn.

His gore would grow within her, withering her womb and mind in the process. Like a parasite Bo almost burst out of the women’s body.

She survived just long enough to offer worship to her gods newest spawn. After the death of the one that carried them, their childhood was pure shit.

No one claimed them, they were essentially abandoned to the will of nature, and to everyone’s suprise. Survived. Mostly on the flesh of the dead body of their womb holder.

(And one butler that may have helped here and there, always making sure Bo knew they were worth more then what they had here. Little gifts delivered at opportune moments to capture a forgotten child’s attention. Literally the same way the gangs do it)

When the other shadow druids started seeing a bright pink Tiefling child watching them from the shadows they became increasingly concerned.

The older Bo grew the more than concern grew too. After years of surviving in the harsh environment just by trial and error. Was eventually taken into the one ophenage they had, where Bo was actually taught how to wildshape, read and everything they should have already been taught.

Literally the only good adult was the head of the openage. The only real parent Bo ever knew. He belief in the shadow Druid ideology had falter as she grew older. No longer having it in her heart to abandon the children of this place. She took them in and raised them.

Having to keep a detached mask on in public. They saw her as ‘fighting the natural order’ and believed if nature would kill the forgotten children then it should.

After Bo’s wild-shapes turned out monsteroud and dark and the whole eating their mother to survive thing the rest of the village figured out Bo’s unnatural disposition easily and went to murder them in the night, killing the head of the ophenage in the pcrocess.

Bo woke up before they finished the job, ended them all and lied to the other children convincing them the adults had been coming for all of them.

They had a full child uprising to merk them all. After that the group settled into life as the new heads of the shadow Druid community in that area, tearing up villages, a never ending ramage of animals balldozing whatecer village was in there way.

All the while Bo was talking to their favourite butler. After a necessary amount death and suffering. Earned their way to the head of the temple.

Baby honed them manipulation skills into a fierce charismatic Druid leader. So much so they convinced their group of shadow Druids to leave the forest and settle in the sewers of bg. With only a promise of killing every human in the world so it could return to nature.

Personality wise, before the brain damage: a charismatic leader with a mean temper but surprisingly loyal to those deemed important. Especially other likeminded cretins.

After, Bo still has the temper but it’s subdued by the constant confusion and muddled thoughts. Not really much of the manipulative type anymore, it takes too much energy to pull that off with their fractured mind.

But they are able to pull off plans sometimes. they’re still on the ride or die seat, in fact, far more loyal now than before. And miles more honest.

Is usually very much a sit in the woods and be one with nature in silence way.

Your oc

Kat(aigyda)'s mother was a tiefling and his father a half-drow from Baldur's Gate lower city. So, bad mix to make good first impressions on most people in the city. He was abandoned to an orphanage by his father shortly after his mother died, as he grew up, he figured out he was a sorcerer and was capable of using magic naturally, particularly stormy and psychic ones. He grew up lonely and often ostracized, therefore he holds a grudge against people too hasty to judge him. In order to get by, he became a criminal, he learned how to manipulate people when needed, also his talents in magic allowed him to work for the guild.

For his personality, he's seemingly friendly and polite to people. He presents himself as an assertive person but is actually filled with self-doubt. He's a bit lazy, and sleeps a lot. He may be good on surface level relationships but struggles with allowing people to get close enough to really know him.

Interaction

Bo and Tieflings are already a match in heaven, anyone who can understand infernal is gonna have a better time making friends with the feral bubble gum piece.

Tho to be honest, if this was before the brain damage Bo might be able to sniff out that deep seated security and use it to kinda forge a deeper bond to which they could use him to further their own goals.

B u t After the brain damage,definitely not! Although it is harder to get to know them now, a lot more barriers and a lot more genuine concern about their own inability to protect themselves with how fractured their mind is but if they could both get past eachothers barriers I think they’d absolutely get along, especially as a fellow somewhat lazy adventurer.

Bo might not be as good at the surface level small talk stuff but if they could be genuinely real with each-other, and Bo could catch a glimpse of his honest self. Although they would probably speak in grunts at first, then a respect could be forged. Bo respects anyone who’s good at the art of manslaughter and criminal activity.

And someone who can appreciate a good nap, so three points in favour of them! At least from Bo’s side.

Tagging

@venranae 💞✨💞 @melonkka @anyone else who’s like to that I fprgotB

[xbalayage]

┆➵ This is my Secret Santa Exchange gift for @ax0lotly in @lemeowade's event. :) I knew nothing of this game beforehand so I did my best to create this for you! I hope you like it! Forewarning: This is a bit of a heavy read and contains themes of suicidal thoughts, death and attempted suicide. Because this game is a psychological horror game. But it ends on a positive note, I promise! But read at your own discretion. Sunny POV w/ slight Sunny/Kel at the end; Angst/Comfort; WC: 815

I haven't coped well... at all.

I stare at these walls like they could swallow me whole, like the never ending nightmare of limbo would never cease; beneath my eyelids, curled up under the covers, curtains drawn and darkness envelopes - I still see and hear you. Sometimes I swear I hear your piano play on its own and think you're still alive but it's the guilt clawing away at me until there's nothing left.

I can't stand the sound, the bittersweet lullaby of your death in my ears.

My HANDS— these hands are no better. Tainted and soiled; once trained to play a melody on a violin, to create a beautiful symphony along with the chords to your piano now stay out of my sight. Every day reminders of what I've done to you. It was an accident, I swear. Emotions had blinded my rational thought and I reacted.

I'm sorry.

But sorries don't bring you back nor does the ghost of you leave this house.

It's... tormenting.

Reality sets in, yet I lay awake in my dreams; filled with your smile, understandable love and touch. You forgive me but I don't forgive myself. Our friends, our group? We said we'd be friends forever, always having each other's backs when things got tough. But it's been mangled to the point of unrecognizable, irreparable. We're like strangers who've never crossed each other's paths in this lifetime. Everyone loved you, and I was the selfish one who took you from them. From me, your only brother; you, my only sister.

I could never forgive myself.

It's been years now — I'm stuck in a loop of the events that plague and infect the core of me, festering deep, rooting scars into the crevices of my brain like a parasite. Out of touch, out of body, out of mind; day feels like night, night resembles hell and these hands are still connected to my wrists.

I live in a comatose state, alive but not exactly living. Dead, but my heart is still beating. An agonizing cycle of mental torture. In my dreams, you're still alive, your skin feels warm to the touch and all our friends are with us like that traumatic event never happened.

Tonight, however, I've made my choice.

A fantasy dream where you're alive is better than a grieving world where you've passed. In the darkness, under the covers, shielded from any and everyone; I use these hands to take part in a sinful act again.

Holding a knife just above my heart while I laid curled on my side, I scrunch my eyes and slow my shaky breath. A second is all it takes. No longer will the ghost of you haunt my ever present existence, for it shall embrace your forgotten touch in the afterlife.

Wait for me, Mari.

And just when I've felt I finally mustered the courage to end it all — I hear a voice, a different voice that isn't yours. An old but comforting one, a long forgotten hymn of light embraced me.

—It was Kel.

And suddenly, no knife was in my crutches, the room was no longer enveloped in an eternal black winter and the lullaby of your presence fades.

Slow, cautiously slow, I opened my eyes to be welcomed by the sounds of birds chirping, the rays of a new beginning closing in and the smile of a face I thought I would never see again. His smile radiates my body with an unknown warmth I've long forgotten and I stare at him confused, seeing the image of my sister in his place. But before I could think to mutter a word, he speaks in a comforting tone for only my ears to hear.

"Hey, I know it wasn't your fault. It's okay, you can forgive yourself, even if it takes some time. I'll be here for you."

An angel was sent to me; it wasn't my time to go. And I was overwhelmed with emotion that nothing left me but tears down my face at those words. Those much needed words. Did you send Kel to me, Mari? Do you really forgive me? Is it okay?

Kel holds my hand as I cried for as long as I needed, never forcing me to do anything else but cry. The only comfort I ever indulged was in my dreams but now, with this heaven sent message I've been brought, maybe confronting the trauma might be a good thing. Baby steps at a time.

Maybe one day, I'll learn to finally forgive myself and see my hands as things to create something beautiful once more.

Ever since the day he rescued me, things have seemed brighter joining Kel on my walk to recovery. And it's all thanks to you, Mari. Thank you.

Now, instead of grief, all I hear is the timeless symphony I've created in the honor of your death.

[blackjackkent]

OK, the game freaked me out real hard bc when we came back through the portal there were NO companions in camp other than the ones I had brought with me, and I thought we were about to be in a Mass Effect 2 situation where they all got kidnapped by the githyanki attackers and we'd have to go rescue them.

But they're back after a long rest! And, unsurprisingly, Lae'zel and Shadowheart both have exclamation marks on their head because holy shit y'all some shit just went down and everyone's freaking out.

I'm very scared to talk to Lae'zel cos I think she's gonna yell at me but I guess we might as well get it out of the way first.

"Your parasite communes with Lae'zel's. Her heart races as she learns of the events inside the Astral Prism."

Honestly, the tadpole and its implications are terrifying but its utility as an Exposition Expedient is unparalleled.

"Orpheus," she whispers, her voice somehow even more raspy than usual. "Gith's only son. He lives. It is not the ghaik visitor that Vlaakith would destroy and Voss would set free - it is Orpheus. The Blood of the Mother, the Prince of the Comet."

OK. No yelling yet. This is good.

"A mighty powerful prince, if he can block out an illithid hivemind," Hector says cautiously.

(A/N: I just realized it threw me off a bit that they're having this conversation in daylight. XD I got very used to the eternal night of the shadow-cursed lands I guess.)

"And even more powerful still," Lae'zel agrees. "It's said he could bring a thousand githyanki to their knees with one command. Listen close - the Emperor spoke only in half-truths. For you to know the tale of Orpheus, you must know the tale of Gith, and of Vlaakith."

OK not only is Lae'zel not yelling at him, but she's giving him a history lesson. This is going far better than I hoped. XD This is practically BFFs behavior given who we are talking about.

"Long ago," she goes on, "when we rose up against our ghaik slavers, Mother Gith made for the Hells to secure an alliance with the archdevil Tiamat. Tiamat gifted the githyanki our red dragons. Gith remained in the Hells and Tiamat's envoy proclaimed Vlaakith our ruler. The first Vlaakith of many. It is Vlaakith One-Five-Seven whom my people now call 'queen'."

Hector blinks, bemused. "One hundred fifty-seven? That's a lot of Vlaakiths."

If the humor registers with Lae'zel at all, she doesn't show it. "Yes. Our current queen has claimed undeath and reigned for a thousand years. But it was the first whom Orpheus tried to slay. Orpheus was - is - Gith's only son. He led his mother's own honor guard in a coup against Vlaakith One. It was Kith'rak Voss himself who slayed the prince in vicious battle. Or so the varshes teach us."

She hesitates, confusion flashing across her face. "Yet the Prince of the Comet's been with us, subdued by that repugnant illithid. Should Orpheus go free, he would tear Vlaakith's empire to pieces and build new glory from the scraps."

Hector frowns. "What happens now?" he asks carefully. He is certain Lae'zel has a strong opinion of the right course. At his moments of greatest confusion, she has always been a decisive voice to help him see a path, even if it was not the one he ended up choosing.

"We meet Voss in the city. And we obtain the key to freeing Orpheus from his prison," she says matter-of-factly, without hesitation. "Every word Voss spoke, he spoke true. Orpheus is the living proof of the queen's lies, and the living weapon that conquered our ghaik slavers. One word form his lips and the people would doubt. Two words, and they would rage. Three words, and they would bow to the True Heir."

She straightens, squaring her shoulders. "If the githyanki are to be free, the Prince of the Comet must lead the way."

It's a pretty big change from the dogmatic soldier she used to be. She has come a long way, he thinks with a flash of strange pride. As have we all.

That said, it's dangerous ground she proposes treading. Orpheus as he currently stands is the key to their survival - Hector isn't opposed to freeing him, necessarily, but they need some other way to protect themselves from the Absolute if it's going to go on the to-do list.

Unfortunately we don't get the chance to discuss that aspect with her right now.