#national sea serpent day

[subby-sab]

Today is 7th of August.

Today is National Lighthouse Day, National Raspberries N Cream Day, National Sea Serpent Day, Professional Speakers Day.

[fushic0re]

─ 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒, 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗥 𝘅 𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗔!𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — a prophecy has tied you to the feathered serpent god before you had even existed. now, it’s time to come home.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. possessive behavior. near death experience. smut; penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie (lots of cum bc i'm disgusting), breeding kink.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑❜𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — this has to be the most excited i've been for a fic in a long time 🥹 i had a blast including a little bit of my culture's superstitions and lore. my sincerest apologies for any inaccurate yucatec maya translations, i used a translator website. the song the reader sings is "daughter of the sea" by sharm. i hope you all enjoy! ♡

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 —

⁀➷ “anak” - child.

⁀➷ “po” - a respectful term with no direct translation used when talking to someone of higher rank than you such as elders or your boss.

⁀➷ “mag ingat ka” - “be careful.”

⁀➷ “ka’a suku’un u?” - “cousin?”

⁀➷ “ko’oten tin wéetel in kaxtik ti’ le ajawo.” - "come with me to find the king."

⁀➷ "in yakunaj" - "my love"

⁀➷ "in k'áaté" - my one and only.

⁀➷ "le ba'alo' leti'e" - that is her.

⁀➷ "bienvenido tin wotoch ti', in reina." - "welcome my queen."

꒰ ͜͡➸ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒❜ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 & 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ♡

FOR AS LONG AS YOU COULD REMEMBER, the ocean was your safe haven.

While others strayed from its depths for fear of the unknown, of the creatures that could be lurking down there, you had always been curious to know. There had always been an itch that couldn’t quite be scratched when it came to your love for the water. You frequented your local beach nearly every day, wandering aimlessly until you grew tired. Unlike others your age, your life was one of solitude. To an extent, you were content with it, for the ocean was your companion. It never judged you and always welcomed you. It listened when you spoke, carrying your worries far from you never to be seen again.

Nowadays, to your heart’s discontent, the ocean was not enough.

You were lonely. Truly lonely and feeling what it was like to be so for the very first time in your life. There were nights you stared into the abyss; eyes watery as you wished to drown in it. To be embraced by the one thing that was consistent in your life. Would you feel less alone then?

─

From the deepest point of the very sea you gazed into, the heart of a God grew heavy. K’uk’ulkan loved his people, adored them with every fiber of his body. Each and every one of the faces of those he ruled, dead and alive, were imprinted in his soul permanently. Every step he took was taken with them in mind. He prided himself for being a good leader, for doing everything and anything possible to keep his nation safe. After the events leading up to the alliance with the Wakandans, however, he did not know if that pride was deserved. He had made mistakes; misplaced his trust and allowed two of his own to die right in their very home. Namora, as loyal as she was, began to question his decisions. He was alone in bearing this burden with no one to rest his head on at night from the heaviness of the day.

What pained him the most? He knew he shouldn’t be alone.

He recalled the day he and his mother had been read the prophecy when he was a child clearly. The emotions he felt upon hearing those words spoken into existence were still fresh. There was someone for him. Just for him, and him alone.

“For His fealty, the First Son of Talokan shall be given a gift from the Gods; a descendant from the Heavens, a child of Bulan with the voice of an enchantress. For as long as He shall live, She shall rule the seas by His side.”

Years passed. Those years slowly faded into decades. After the passing of his beloved mother, it became difficult differentiating when those decades turned into centuries. Still, there were no signs of his soulmate. His people knew of the prophecy. K’uk’ulkan was all too aware of the anticipation his children felt as they eagerly awaited the arrival of their queen. Yet, she never came.

He grew angry at the so called Gods for turning on their promise – at her. Where was she? he’d hiss. My people, our people, have come dangerously close to being discovered. I have nearly died defending them all alone. My wings have been ripped from my flesh. Why isn’t she here? The prophecy meant nothing to him anymore. Just as he was naïve when he entrusted Princess Shuri with seeing his home, he was blindly foolish for believing in a fairytale.

Namor was without love in more ways than one.

─

You didn’t remember falling asleep. There was no explanation as to how you ended up perilously close to the edge of the water, the violent thrash of waves serving as a warning to you. Still, you remained completely still as fear immobilized you. You racked your brain for any recollections of your previous actions. Nothing came up. You couldn’t remember anything after you came home from the market.

Nothing, that is, aside from a single voice.

It cooed to you, whispered your name like it had waited a thousand millennia to taste it upon its tongue. Sang to you like you were its favorite person in the entire universe.

Come to me.

Come home.

In yakunaj.

In k’áate’.

Come home.

Taking a moment to steady your breathing, you slowly stepped away from the ledge before rushing back home. As you tucked yourself into bed that night, you tried your best to bury what had just transpired. You sought out every possibility – rational and irrational – that could have resulted in your odd behavior. You always went to the beach, maybe you just wandered there after dinner out of habit. Perhaps something went wrong with the batch of your usual tea and an ingredient that causes cognitive dysfunction was accidentally added to it. Maybe tomorrow morning you will wake up to a news report about your batch being recalled from all stores.

The explanation you vied for never came.

As time persisted, so did the bouts of blacking out, regaining consciousness, and finding yourself near the ocean. Each time, you got closer and closer to its waters. Every day after the next, you would feel the fatigue in your muscles from all of the walking. And yet, it did not stop you. You always found your way back to the ocean. It didn’t matter if you walked into ongoing traffic or if a concerned neighbor physically restrained you, the pull was stronger. Shamefully, you began to avoid leaving your home altogether. You couldn’t bear to face the condemnatory looks you were bound to receive. Whatever those in your area thought of you, you didn’t want to know. You were afraid enough of what you were becoming.

When you wake up from the next spell, you were waist deep in the ocean. Shivering as your thin nightgown stuck to your skin. Wrapping your arms around your torso, you salvaged any and all body heat. The gravity of your circumstances hit you all at once. Biting your lip, you held back your tears as your turned around and began making your way out of the water hastily. Just as your bare feet touched the white sand, you caught the eyes of the elderly woman who lived closed by. The two of you had never spoken, but her presence as a resident was always acknowledged.

“Sorry, po,” You spoke sheepishly, a polite and apologetic smile on your face.

Her expression was grave as she stared at you wordlessly. Silence stretched between the both of you and just as you were about to walk away, she harshly spat one single word.

“Magindara.”

Before you could seek clarification, she was back inside her small hut, the door slamming behind her acrimoniously. The only proof that the interaction with her was even real was the residual sting of her hostility and rage. Her persecution was the straw to break the camel’s back. Unable to maintain your resolve any longer, you fell to your knees and began to you’re your hands clutching at your chest in hopes to alleviate the pain. Humiliation, terror, anxiousness, and frustration were just a few of the emotions you were feeling. Even then, they were just the tip of the iceberg. As you cried to yourself, sand sticking to your wet limbs uncomfortably, you longed for nothing but someone to wrap you up in their arms – for someone to tell you that for once, everything would be okay. Just this once, you craved a life outside of isolation.

Once your breathing evened out, you stood up and leisurely began to talk along the shore. Soothing yourself in the only way you knew how, you began to softly sing.

“Beware, beware the Daughter of the Sea. ‘Beware’ I heard him cry. His words carried upon the ocean breeze, as he sank beneath the tide.”

Namora watched acutely as the quill in her king’s hands abruptly dropped to the floor. The warrior waited for the moment he would pick it up off of the ground and continue with his painting, but it never came.

“K’uk’ulkan?”

She received no response. His eyes held an indecipherable expression, one far away from the present.

“Ka’a suku’un u?” Namora repeated, her tone now carrying concern.

The King of Talokan turned to her for a split second before he stormed out of the room with speed she had never witnessed from him before. Namora was hot on his feathered heels, but the second she dived into the water, her cousin was nowhere to be seen.

“Attuma!” She bellowed. “Ko’oten tin wéetel in kaxtik ti’ le ajawo.”

K’uk’ulkan was stunned when he first heard it – the most beautiful sound to grace his ears. He was livid with himself for being unable to find a better word to describe the voice, for “beautiful” was such an understatement that it was borderline insulting. Without hesitation, he followed it. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know where it was coming from or who it even belonged to, he needed to find it. It called to him, turned him into a man possessed as he soared through the waters restlessly to get to it.

His head broke the surface, and that’s when he saw its owner – her. His soulmate.

She was the most exquisite living being he had ever laid his eyes upon. A gift from the heavens she was. Her beauty made him dizzy, his knees growing weak as he took in his beloved’s features. He admired her as she outstretched her arms, cupping the moon in her delicate palms. It paled in comparison to her. Everything did. Nothing could possibly compare. He remained paralyzed as she continued to sing, a foreign feeling settling in his stomach.

“Why this? Why this, oh Daughter of the Sea? Why this? Why did you forget your seaside days? Always the pride of our nation’s eyes, how could she go astray?”

The words of her melody pierced his heart. They reflected their journey far too accurately to be a coincidence. Did she know that she had always been destined for him? To be loved by the entire nation of Talokan? His lids fell shut slowly as he basked in her harmonies, feeling tranquil at last.

“I heard, I heard, across the moonlit seas, the old voice warning me. Beware, beware, the Daughter of the Sea. Beware, beware…of me.”

Namor studied her face as her song ended. He noted her red rimmed eyes and wet cheeks. Her damp nightgown stuck to her body tantalizingly. The despair in her hypnotizing voice was palpable. All of the wrath and resentment he had once harbored dissipated. Oh, my love. I have longed for you too. He could do nothing as he watched you turn your back to him from above, only pray for another encounter. He rose entirely from the sea, the wings on his ankles fluttering in the air as he watched her in the sky until she was safe in her abode. A quiet splash could be heard from under him. Attuma and Namora stared up at him expectedly.

“Le ba’alo’ leti’e’.”

He nodded slowly, eyes burning holes in the spot where she once stood.

“A human?” Attuma questioned, his voice rigid.

Namor shook his head.

“’A child of Bulan with the voice of an enchantress’.” Namor quoted the prophecy directly. “Bulan was a deity the heavens sent to the ocean to protect the moon from sea monsters. She is a siren; they are descendants of Bulan.”

“What is she doing on the surface?” Namora chimed in.

The king frowned, his fists clenching at his sides as he longed to feel her touch.

“She is lost.”  

─

Returning to the beach after the unpleasant encounter with the elderly woman who lived on its grounds probably wasn’t the most sensible decision. In your defense, however, nothing in your life was sensible nowadays.

Magindara was what she called you. A whole day’s worth of research, hundreds of Google searches, and several life crises later, you found out what it meant – siren. A subspecies of mermaids that were known for being especially vicious. You wanted to badly to laugh it off, to chuck it up to her being a senile old woman, but that was not an option. To do so would be like ignoring statistics. The facts of your life were laid out clearly; there was a connection between you and the ocean. A connection so strong that it bewitched you – mind, body, and soul. There were no traceable origins you could use to refute the woman’s claims. Afterall, you had no family. There was nothing more to do than return to the very place that could give you answers.

Your eyes darted everywhere in search of the familiar head of silvery locks. Once identified, you ran to her.

“Excuse me, po?” You called desperately, your eyes begging her for something. Anything. “What…what am I?”

She stared at you with a severe expression on her aged features.

“The man from the sea with wings on his ankles. Mag ingat ka, anak. He’s coming for you.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Could you expla—”

“Do not come back here.” She warned. “He will drag you down with him.”

With that being said, she entered her home and slammed the door in your face for the second time. Vexation filled you as you were met with another dead end. A man from the sea with wings on his ankles. What the hell was that alluding to? Did the elderly have to always speak in riddles? Were you in danger? Why was he after you?

You dragged your feet as you trudged home dejectedly. You were already exhausted, not sleeping a wink once you returned home after your stint last night. Sleep was unfathomable considering you were haunted by unanswered questions. Once you crossed the threshold of your bedroom, however, you could no longer ignore your body’s need for rest. Flopping down on your bed, you shut your eyes and instantaneously succumbed to a peaceful slumber.

That night was the last time you slept in your own bed.

The beach was eerily quiet, void of the usual sound of waves crashing against the shore. Seemingly, the ocean yielded to you, it’s queen, the second you stepped foot in its territory, entranced and guided by a single voice.

Come home. Come to me.

Your feet carried you to a cliff high above the sparkling midnight waters.

My love. My soulmate.

Home. You needed to come home. It was time. 

Come home.

Just a couple of more steps.

Come home.

This is your destiny. Fulfill it. Fulfill the prophecy.

Come home.

With that, you took one final step off the cliff and prepared yourself to plunder into the deep waters. Your feet were only in the air for a brief moment before a pair of strong arms caught you midair. Upon physical contact, you snapped from your trance with a sharp gasp, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to panic.

A deep, gentle voice lulled you. It was then that you finally registered who it belonged to. The being who had saved you was the epitome is beauty. Everything about him exuded regality from the air of confidence and ease he carried himself with, to the adornments on his muscular body. A large gold and jade neck plate took up the most space on his expansive chest. Ropes of auriferous shells and opalescent-like pearls hung around his neck. Gilded cuffs were locked around his biceps, wrists, and ankles. You quickly noted the alabaster wings fluttering away attached to them, the very wings responsible for suspending the both of you in the air. Your eyes trailed to his delicately pointed ears, embellished with jewels just like the rest of him. The only clothing he sported was a pair of emerald shorts that left nothing to the imagination. The walls of muscle that were his thighs were on full display, the muscles of a man built to withstand the brutality of the ocean.

This was the man the elderly woman was speaking about. The man from the sea with feathers on his ankles.

That revelation should have scared you. Every alarm in your body should have gone off.

Escaping him should have been the only thing occupying your mind. You should have kicked and screamed until your throat was raw and bloody.

But you did no such thing.

Instead, it was the way he looked at you, gazing at you with the most intense smolder in his eyes that occupied your attention. He gazed at you with pure wonder, and held you delicately yet fiercely in his arms like you were the most precious thing in the entire world. Instinctively, you placed your hands on his bare chest, mindlessly tracing the dew drops sticking to his golden skin. The beautiful man shivered beneath your touch.

“500 years I have waited for you.” He whispered reverently.

Your mouth opened, prepared for a response that never came. Instead, your vision went dark.

─

You woke up to hushed voices and heedful, diligent hands. One set of hands languidly brushed your hair away from your face. Another daintily shimmied clothing onto your body once they were finished drying you off with the velvetiest cloth to ever touch your skin. The last set secured what you assumed was jewelry onto your wrists, neck, and ears. Upon opening your eyes, your assumption was correct. The dress on your body was stunning, embroidered with hundreds of crystalline beads. The jewels on your wrists alone were probably worth more than what you had made in your entire life.

The women who stood above you were unlike you had ever seen before. Their skin was a brilliant shade of cerulean. Vibrant, yet pleasantly understated. Masks covered their mouths and noses, but you could still see the bright smiles behind them.

“Hello,” You greeted shyly. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Each of them let out a small cry, their eyes welling up with tears as they bowed earnestly.

“Bienvenido tin wotoch ti’, in reina.” They spoke warmly in unison, forming a gesture with their hands at you respectfully. Their mother tongue was foreign to you, but not for long. As if you had spoken it your entire life, your mind made quick work of interpreting it.

Welcome home, my queen.

Once again, you were puzzled. You had no idea where you were or who exactly that man was and why he had taken you here. You obviously hadn’t a single inkling as to what he meant by “500 years I have waited for you”. Now, these women were calling you their queen in a language you had never heard your entire life but somehow had the ability to understand perfectly.

The sound of feet pattering lightly gradually got closer and closer until the man of the hour stood before you at the foot of the bed. The women attending to you immediately turned their attention to him, bowing and forming the same hand gesture you had seen moments ago. He looked just as regal still, now adorned in a cape tucked into golden plates of armor on his shoulders. He regarded them gratefully.

“Leave us, my children. Thank you.”

They bowed to you both once more before swiftly making themselves haste. You now had his undivided attention.

“I hope you slept well. The healers said showed signs of exhaustion.”

“I—” You cleared your throat nervously. “I did, thank you.”

The barest hint of a smile graced his features. With graceful and controlled movements, he poured water into a glass and handed it to you.

“Do not be nervous.” He spoke lowly. “Speak freely.”

“Thank you.” You squeaked out again, taking a generous gulp of water before speaking again. “Where am I? Who are you?”

“My people call me K’uk’ulkan. To my enemies, I am Namor. You are in our kingdom – Talokan.”

The water got caught in your throat mid swallow, causing you to cough obnoxiously. The man who you now knew as K’uk’ulkan, discreetly smiled to himself as if this was a reaction he had anticipated. Before you could blurt out another string of questions, he held his hand out to you.

“Come. I will remedy all of your concerns.”

As if you had done so a million times, you placed your hand in his and stood by his side. Namor lead the both of you through a series of corridors. Your eyes took in your surroundings with pure astonishment. Cavern seemed to be a secluded corner for the king, crystal waters surrounding its premises. Bits of glittery minerals were embedded into the sediment walls. An air of serenity blanketed the entire area.

From the corner of his eye, Namor gaged your reactions, his heart so full of unfiltered adoration that it felt like it would explode in his chest. His hand was still tightly clutched in yours like it was second nature. Subconsciously, you had drawn your body closer to his. He was a meticulous man of control and strategy, but at that very moment, K’uk’ulkan wanted nothing more than to take you into his arms and kiss you breathlessly. The moment was cut short when you reached his study. He offered you a seat at his desk, drawing the door shut behind him for privacy. It didn’t take long for you to deduce that the murals painted on the walls were ones depicting the history of Talokan.

“Centuries ago, my people took an herb that allowed them to survive underwater. The herb was infused with vibranium. We are the only nation aside from Wakanda to possess it.” He began, his hands tracing over a painting of a beautiful woman cradling an infant. “My mother was pregnant with me when she ingested it. That is why I am the way I am – why I am the only one out of my people that can survive on both land and underwater, fly, and age slower than the rest. For this, they made me their king. Their god.”

You listened intently, fascinated by the discovery that they had remained a secret for this long.

“There was a prophecy made shortly after my birth. The gods promised me a soulmate.”

Turning around to face you, he bore his soul to yours through his eyes as he read the prophecy to you. With each word that fell from his lips, the world around you spun quicker and quicker. It made sense. It all made sense.

“I gave up on the idea of the prophecy coming true as time passed. In yakunaj, when you have lived as long as I have, seen as much as I have, happy endings are nothing but meaningless fallacies. But then, that night came…the night I heard you sing for the first time.”

He approached you slowly, cautiously like a wild animal that would take flight if startled by any sudden movements. What happened next made your eyes fill with tears; he knelt before you. This man – a king, a god – surrendered to you with no hesitation.

“I have finally found you…” He breathed, his orbs shining with devotion. “You are home. Why do you think you have no family? No one to trace your roots back to? You were made for me. Mine.”

Your face fell in between the palms of your hands as you wept. Quickly, your hands were replaced by his. He held your face in his hands like he was holding the entire world, the pads of his thumbs gently brushing away your tears.

“Why the tears, my love?”

You shook your head, placing your hands on top of his. The spark you felt every time the two of you touched could no longer be ignored.

“Why did they just now bring us together?” You cried. “We’ve both been alone for all this time, how could they not do something about it!”

“Shhh,” Namor cooed. “You think I have not been angry with them, my sweet? I have held myself back from tearing their skies and oceans apart just to find you. But what I feel for you right now in this very moment? That feeling will always win.”

The both of you said nothing more, for there was nothing that needed to be said. Your long lost love held you in his arms as you liberated yourself from what felt like decades of anguish. His grip never faltered even as you gripped his flesh hard enough to draw blood. Instead, he soothingly rocked you as he recounted the stories of his people’s origins. Talokan was a clandestine national treasure, one of the only things on the earth that had not been bastardized. That was all the doing of this wonderful being who had been promised to you.

“They were wrong about you. Your name.” You whispered. “You’re not without love, quite the opposite actually. The actions you have taken, the lengths you have gone to protect your people and your home, are ones of a man consumed with nothing but love. You can see it in how happy they are.”

With cautious hands, you caressed his cheeks. He preened against your touch, melting right into your palms. The world would never see the stoic warrior king falter, but already, you had him firmly wound around your finger. He could sit there for hours soaking in your ardor.

“Our home. Our people.” Namor corrected. “They can’t wait to meet you.”

Lovingly, he pressed his forehead to yours, nudging the tip of your nose with his.

“Are you ready to meet them?”

He observed endearingly as your eyes widened as large as flying saucers as you nodded overzealously, a giggle tumbling from your lips. K’uk’ulkan noted once more how full of love he felt. He wondered if this was what your lives together would consist of, overcome with all of the possibilities. Was adoring you more than he did in this moment even conceivable? When your smile faltered slightly, worry filled him.

“I’ve never seen…myself.”

“I am honored to be the first to see your true form.”

The two of you stood, walking hand in hand out of his personal study and to the outermost cove surrounded with the most water. Inhaling shakily, you eyed what awaited below you with apprehension. You were not human, far from it, and yet it felt as if you and your true form were worlds apart. Namor was silent. He knew this was something you needed to do alone. The only form of assurance offered to you was a look of encouragement.

Slowly, you dipped one foot into the water and allowed the other to follow. Keeping your eyes closed, you focused on your heart rate as your body adroitly descended into the abyss of the sea. You could have easily fallen asleep if it weren’t for a tingly sensation disrupting your peace. It started small, gradually winding around you until all at once, currents of electricity bolted through your limbs. Instinctively, your lungs expanded, and you took your first gulp of air underwater. You ripped your eyes open in bewilderment when you didn’t choke on water. The clear-cut view you had of your surroundings despite no sources of light being near further consolidated your shock. A noise akin to a squeak and gasp escaped your lips and before you knew it, you were cutting through the waters with newfound ease until your head broke the surface.

Namor would have given everything to his name to capture the sight before him. There you were, beaming at him with unrivaled radiance. He stopped breathing when you lifted your tail out of the water. Just when he thought you could not be any more magnificent than you already were, you defied his expectations. The scales covering the muscle were a range of shades of lapis lazuli, emerald, and gold. Towards the tips of your forked fin, they all blended into a rich shade of dark indigo. Your torso was bare but hidden behind your locks as they cascaded over your breasts. Namor could have gawked at you for hours if it weren’t for you playfully flicking water at his face. He felt light and dream-like as your melodious laughter echoed through the cavern. He decided then and there that your laughter was his favorite song. The scowl permanently etched onto his face fell. In its place, a smile so wide it hurt spawned. For the first time in centuries, he laughed so hard his abdomen hurt.

Powerless to his desires, he dove into the water after you, finding shelter in your embrace once more. Intuitively, your tail curled around one of his legs. He submerged the two of you back into the water and before you knew it, his lips were pressed against yours. Skin to skin, naked chests were tightly pressed against each other, your arms locked around his neck as your mouths feverishly meshed against one another. A barely audible moan slipped from your mouth right into his as his tongue pushed passed your lips. Namor voiced his pleasure with a low rumble from his chest. Pathetically, you could cry again right then and there. How could you have gone without this your whole life?

A loud clearing of the throat caused you both to cease your ministrations. Namor was anything but sorry as he pulled away with the softest expression you had seen on his face thus far. He regarded the two individuals standing in front of you – a hulking man with long inky tresses and an ornate headpiece resembling the skull of a hammerhead shark and a fierce looking woman with a feathered lionfish-esque headdress. Though both clearly high up in the royal ranks with a cutthroat reputation to uphold, they studied you and Namor with mischief.

“K’uk’alkan, they are waiting for her.” The man spoke.

“You might want to put this on before you go.” Spoke the woman, pulling an opulent bra top from behind her back and extending it towards you.

The state of undress you were in hit you like a bus. Your face felt like it was on fire from embarrassment, your lover pressing a tender kiss to your heated cheek. Tactfully, he maneuvered you away from the eyes of the warrior you now knew was Attuma. The woman, his cousin and second in command named Namora, expertly laced you into the garment.

“That was so embarrassing,” You mumbled to yourself once your modesty was secured.

Namor cracked a hint of a smirk.

“Attuma and my cousin expected nothing less from us. Now, shall we?”

─

Talokan was a magnificent sight. The agriculture was impressive, the vibranium rich soil working wonders for the crops. Sea creatures from colossal sized sea turtles, lengthy luminescent jellyfish of different colors, lively fish, and enormous whales to start were one with the Talokanil, peacefully existing with one another. The treatment you received from everyone was something you would never get used to. Despite not knowing you, they acknowledged you as if they had known you their entire lives. K reina perdida they called you with earnest smiles and misty eyes. Our lost queen.

But you were no longer lost.

It was evident in the way the orcas sang with you as you glided through the waters, seemingly understanding you in a way no one else could. Namor’s soul was finally content after seeing you swim freely, laughing so hard your stomach hurt as a couple of toddlers crawled around on your tail. His people loved you. Just as he thought they would. And you fit right in just as you were meant to. With further exploration of your physiology, the two of you discovered that like Namor, you could survive both underwater and on the surface, donning a set of legs seamlessly upon contact with land. Your strength, speed, and agility matched up perfectly with his. For hours, he chased you through the ocean, the both of you weaving in and out between walls of coral and tall beds of seaweed with dexterity. You truly were made for him.

A week later, you were officially crowned their queen. You and Namor ended the celebration with an intimate wedding ceremony in the cavern. After years of going without each other, neither of you had the patience to wait for a union on a grander scale. You both were enough – you would always be enough. And as he laid your bare body across the bed he occupied by himself for half a millennium, he was confident in that conviction.

You felt dizzy as he pressed his hard bulge against your core. The most heavenly noise to grace your ears came out of your now husband when you raised your hips to grind against it. Your hands liberally roamed his chest, now stripped of his jewels, before slithering to his robust back. Your nails drew tiny half moons as they dug into his flesh when his lips made their way to the column of your neck. The decorum of countenance he upheld was nowhere to be found as he ravaged your breasts with his mouth, lightly tugging your erect nipple between his teeth before he began to suckle. You cried out pathetically. His lips twitched, umber orbs now staring up at you with lust.

“You are so noisy for me,” He purred. “I have not even touched the most sensitive parts of your body yet.”

“Please,” You breathed. “Please, I need you,”

Namor made his way down your body, leaving no part of you untouched by his lips. Deftly, he gripped your thighs and place both of your legs over his shoulders. Gently, he kissed your dripping core.

“You have me, my love. Always.” 

His mouth took you straight to heaven. He devoured you like a man starved, tongue flicking your nub of nerves tirelessly with precision. Your thighs were already trembling, but he had just gotten started. Your orgasm crept up on you, the strongest one you had ever experienced. It left you heaving with your back arched off of the bed, unable to do anything besides chant his name like a mantra. But your beloved’s ministrations did not cease. He continued working at your core, now swollen and glistening from your juices and his spit. The second orgasm built up slowly, the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter with each time he sucked your clit. The final straw was when you noticed his hips gyrating. He was pleasuring himself while pleasuring you. This time when you came on your lover’s tongue, no words or sounds were able to slip passed your mouth. You were quite literally speechless.

With a satisfied moan, he lapped up the rest of your arousal, cooing to you as you quivered and whimpered from hypersensitivity. His scorching body covered yours once more, his lips familiarizing themselves with yours. Namor held you tightly against him, whispering sweet nothings against your lips as you steadied your breathing. It wasn’t long before you felt the head of his cock prodding your entrance. Gripping your face firmly, he forced your eyes open. The frenzied look in his eyes as he languidly sunk into you alone could have made you come for the third time that night. But alas, the universe was on your side. Instead, you savored that moment – the feeling of him. Every inch, every vein, ingrained into your memories for as long as you shall live.

“You feel incredible.” Namor panted, now beginning to steadily thrust. “You truly were made for me.”

You could only respond with wanton cries, too consumed with desire. The king began to piston in and out of you until he was fully pounding you into your marital bed.

“Namor!”

He grunted into your ear, pulling out of you for a brief moment to flip you onto your stomach. He plunged back into you and picked up right where he left off. This time, however, he was brutal with the punctuality of his thrusts.

“Am I your enemy, wife?” He taunted. “Are you even worthy of any mercy I have to spare?”

At this point, you could not even recognize the sounds you were making. They were debauched. Depraved. Combined with rhythmic percussion of skin against skin and the squelch of your wet cunt each time Namor entered you, the song you two orchestrated was one only for the lecherous.

“K’uk’ulkan,” You barely managed to murmur. “I’m s-so close, you make me feel so good,”

He hummed satisfactorily, driving into you even faster.

“You are, aren’t you, my sweet? That’s it, sing for me. Take my seed. Carry my children.”

“Please!” You screamed as your walls convulsed around his cock. Please come in me,”

With a shout and one final thrust, he released in you. Rope after rope, he filled you with his cum with proclamations of everlasting love on the tip of his tongue. His cock remained nestled deep within you as you both descended from your highs, keeping his spent from spilling. He shuddered at the image of you round and radiant carrying his child and just like that, he was hardening inside you once more. As you lay there, thoroughly cock drunk, he began to pull out of you and slowly push back in. This time, he was tender and gentle, unhurriedly focused on taking you apart for one final time that night. The two of you had centuries left together. There was no need to rush. Then again, Namor could live another 500 years with you by his side and still feel like it was not enough. He needed you forever, and then some.

“I love you,” He whispered against the blade of your shoulder. “You are everything.”

The next morning you would wake to the sight of your husband painting a new mural. One of a beautiful woman with the upper body of a human, and the lower body of a fish. By her side, a man with ears that pointed to the skies and wings on his ankles, their eyes locked and hands intertwined.

The beginning of your story.

[conkreetmonkey]

Splatoon 3 is wild because imagine if you were living in Japan due to a recent economic and cultural boom, and suddenly a space shuttle with a mutant house-sized T-rex riding it suddenly burst from the center of Mt. Fuji and disappeared into space without explanation, and all you ever find out about what the fuck that was about is that Zuckerburg mysteriously disappeared the same day and was never seen again, but still "officially" ran Meta through an open secret Queen-Elizabeth-being-in-good-health gaslighting campaign, and everybody kind of suspected he may have been connected but never figured out anything conclusive.

Also the T-rex is now orbiting the earth in the fetal position like the guy from Jojo, and there are rumors of a substance that, if touched, turns you into a half-dinosaur monster. Nobody understands any of this but Meta employees just keep going to work and pretending Zuck still exists. The same 12 prerecorded voicelines constantly squak from the PA system.

Oddly, the statue in front of Meta HQ of a T-rex eating a human changes overnight into one of a giant human eating a tiny T-rex. Nobody noticed the switch, despite the statue being in a constantly bustling area. It happened shortly after the shuttle incident.

Jack Black's tiny clone, Lil' Jack, now wears a headset at all times and has been acting really shady since the incident. Also they're both hyperintelligent, immortal velociraptors found in an ancient cryogenic chamber who spend their days judging college football and eating the legally harvested flesh of hillbillies. Lil' Jack is probably plotting to kill Big Jack, but Big Jack doesn't seem to care, growing fat and lazy, sleeping on public benches in a bed of throw pillows. Also, he's very open about the fact that, as a velociraptor, humans look delicious, but he hasn't actually eaten anybody aside from the aforementioned hillbillies because he's civil.

Everyone is just expected to move on with their lives after this. This is normal to you.

The local art school was recently attacked by giant sea serpents, which were actually hideously bioengineered hillbillies, fulfilling a biblical doomsday prophecy, and they were driven back by Meta's army of minimum wage, part time child soldiers armed with warcrimey jury-rigged weaponry. The sea serpents had giant frying pans grafted into their mouths, which launched primitive tactical nukes made by filling garbage bags with their explosive blood. They still exist, and occasionally defend their comrades, but spend most of their time in the deep sea.

The local homeless emo twink everyone's attracted to is a closet millionaire who sells bootleg clothing in exchange for live rats, which he messily devours behind closed doors. He's also 8 feet tall and British and only has one eye.

North Korean refugees now flood the western world, after a greasy 14 year old hipster, under the guidance of Ariana Grande and Taylor Swift, beat Kim Jong Un in a mech battle, and the EDM remix of the Japanese national anthem they performed caused like half the soldiers to immediately realize North Korea sucks ass and defect. One of these individuals, 7 foot tall hypergenius, becomes a newscaster alongside a nepo baby rapper with dwarfism who likes to eat entire jars of mayo, and also they're a popular band. Also also, they may or may not be gay. Almost the entire population is gay, so this isn't a huge deal.

The new local newscasters are a famous Japanese lion tamer, an Indian girl with a bloodline trait allowing her to control snakes, and a Brazillian man the size of a smart car who exclusively communicates via grunts.

Gods, souls and zombies are objectively real, and you're effectively immortal because real-life respawning was invented a while ago. It works like a Keurig, but with mucus instead of coffee. Submersion in water kills you.

A good deal of the population is a hivemind. They pretend to be individuals for no reason.

Almost all men are now femboys.

Despite all this, you still have to go to work at 9 tomorrow.

[nellycanwrite]

A Request

Part 1 of the “The Request” Series  ||  Attuma x Talokanil!Princess!Reader

Summary: As the daughter of the feathered serpent god, you had always felt the pressure of living up to your father’s name. But you never had to worry; Attuma was always there to quell your fears and follow your will to the ends of the earth.

Or, in which Attuma swears his undying loyalty and love for you, even if it meant being as shameless as to declare his love to a princess when he was but a mere warrior.  

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 10.9K

Warnings: None. Just pure fluffy goodness. If you include a slightly overprotective Dad!Namor then yes, he’s the warning. Maybe a little bit of childhood friends to lovers. A whole lot of Princess x Warrior. 

Note: It is worthy to note that I have not included any deep Yucatec Maya phrases (besides the terms of endearment) despite the Talokanil speaking in their native tongue as respect to their language. Therefore their mother tongue shall be labeled with italics.

Part 1  ||  Part 2 ||  Part 3

K'uk'ulkan had never felt as much loss as he had the day he had lost your mother. Yet there lay bittersweet joy; for the heir to the throne of Talokan had breathed their first breath and let out a cry so strong it beckoned the creatures of the deep sea to their bidding.

You were born a wee thing; weak and fragile as the old shells that littered the floors of the sea. Yet you held strong in the arms of your father as he witnessed his wife lifelessly lay in their shared chambers. The handmaidens and wet nurses all wept and mourned at the loss of their queen, the ocean swayed with the waves of its people's grief. You cried with your father's subjects as if you had understood the passing of Talokan's queen mother, but K'uk'ulkan never shed a tear, no. 

 He was a king to his people. He was the protector of his nation. A God was he revered by both land and sea.

 He was your father.

 And he dared not to weep in front of the children he held so dear—for even in the heartache of his loss does he remember the weight of his divine majesty and countenance to his people.

 “The queen of Talokan has passed,” K'uk'ulkan swallowed the lump that formed on his throat as he bit back bitter tears. Tears that he will never show his people in a sign of great weakness, “yet she would not have wished for us to mourn in sadness. She brought us a gift that none could ever compare. She would have wished for us to celebrate in her absence for the birth of our child—Talokan's first heir.”

 The you who had been presented with a crown and a scepter of your kingdom's rule since your birth inherited your father's features; the ears that pointed to the heavens as a sign of the divine blood that flowed through your veins, the golden skin that the sun had seemed to kiss in great exhalation to your birth, and the wings of heaven bestowed upon your ankles.

 You were undoubtedly his child. The heir to K’uk’ulkan’s great nation. 

 You were loved by both land and sea, perhaps a gift from your late grandmother's love for the surface, for when you visit the land and take gulps of air do you stay breathing and when you step into the rocks of your father's study do you remain kissed by the sun. You did not change into the color of the sea like the maids that have cared for you, instead, you remained the same color as your own father when he sits idly on dry land. 

 At the tender age of seven did you realize the weight of the name of your father. You aspired to become like him, to fly like him, to lead the people like he did in childish wonder. He showed you the land that your ancestors once owned, the burial sight of your late grandmother, Fen, and the beauty that came with your motherland.

 You yearned for the sights of the surface world, craved for the sun that illuminated the sky—not the one that your father had curated all those years ago, but the one that sits amongst the clouds of the surface—and you whispered wistful wishes to walk into the luscious green of the land that was unknown to you.

 But your father forbids you to go further than the coves of Talokan's entrance. The sole heir to the throne of your nation should be safe. Protected. You were only allowed to go up into the surface every three months, a leniency that your father had so mercifully given you, and stare at the land dwelling wildlife that would so cross your vision. 

 You were merely stuck in the watchful eyes of your guards as you gazed with great longing at the mountains so far from your reach and the forests that would call your name. 

 Despite the love that you had for the beauties of the surface world, you loved your people and your great nation of the deep sea. You loved your father and tried your best to live up to the name of K'uk'ulkan. At the age of eleven you were made aware of your duties to your people. You had made sure that those duties were fulfilled despite the protests of your elders for being so young; that the beloved princess of Talokan need not to carry on the mantle of her royal duties just yet. But you worked hard to outshine your peers to preserve the honor of your father. 

 K’uk’ulkan could not be any prouder than he is now. 

 But the pedestal that you stood on was lonely. You did not have many friends, not because your father was protective of you and had guards at your beck and call, but because you were always so nervous to converse with the other Talokanil children.

 What if they didn’t like you? What if they decided that your status as a princess would hinder their relationship with you? What if they didn’t see you as a prospect to rule them in the future when your father passes the baton of his majesty to you?

 How ironic must it be for the princess of a great nation cower before the idea of friendship to her own people.

 But that had changed when your father let you meet two Talokanil children; Namora and Attuma.

 You knew Namora as your relative—your father’s cousin, to be exact—and sometimes came and went into the palace when you studied. But you never did get the chance to talk to her. You were far too anxious to try and talk to someone whose aura was as intense as hers, even when she’s just a few years older than you.

 “They said they wanted to be your friend, in waal.” my child, he said. Both of them shifted nervously from where they stood, toy spears hidden behind their backs as they fidgeted in place. You noticed how Namora elbowed the boy Attuma on the ribs. He glared at her albeit playfully and said nothing as he behaved.

 You have always noticed the two of them from afar when you studied near your father's throne. They were always rowdy, always hitting each other with their spears clumsily. Despite this, they always laughed and took everything in a merry stride. They never ceased to amaze you.

 Even though Namora was far smaller than Attuma (or any other Talokanil child your age, really), she always won their little play-fights. Their roughhousing caused other children to stay clear of them, but you always found them fascinating. You never knew they wanted to be your friends. You have never as much as held a proper conversation with them except for a few nervous waves and panicked scrambling on your part when they caught you staring.

 “My…friends?” It was your turn to fidget nervously, your hands clasping together and your thumbs twiddling against each other whilst you looked down. You felt the water shift as your father swam towards you, his tender gaze calming you down when his figure covered you from the curious eyes of the Talokanil children.

 “That's right. They want to play with you. I'm sure you were wishing for the same, no?” He chuckled knowingly. You felt heat rise from the back of your neck and crawl up your cheeks—your father had seen you staring at them while they were playing almost everyday!

 Nervously, you nodded ever slowly. There was no lie to his claims. You truly did wish for them to become your friends.

 Attuma's patience must have run out when you were taking your time to reply to your father. You shrieked in surprise when you met the biggest grin you had seen in your life from just above you, an incisor clearly missing in the front of his mouth. K'uk'ulkan laughed and gently coaxed the boy down to your level, his hair flowing gracefully with the water as your father grabbed his ankles and lowered him in front of you. 

 “Wanna play with us?” You blinked at his straightforwardness. You glanced at your father for help, but he merely chuckled and gestured for you to answer. 

 “I—well—um…” He was too close to you that you felt like fainting from your own nerves.

 “Attuma, don't be rude,” Attuma grunted when Namora appeared by his side and delivered a firm whack to his head with a toy spear. You breathed out a centering exhale before shooting Namora a thankful look. She huffed at Attuma, “you might scare her. And you just swam over the king!”

 “I do not mind. But be more mindful next time, Attuma. You must not swim over your elders.” K'uk'ulkan chuckled endearingly at the children's antics. He already knew how rambunctious they would be whenever he passed by them play-fighting.

 Attuma nodded with a gapped-tooth grin but K'uk'ulkan doubts he would really listen to him. But that was alright—he has plenty of time to learn respect. The king of Talokan wishes for these children to be their mischievous selves a little while longer and enjoy their carefree lives as young Talokanil. 

 K'uk'ulkan notices you fidget once again when Namora turns her attention to you, just as eager to make you their new friend. You try to make out words with broken sentences, yet there was no right greeting that would come. You would deflate when Namora would hold the reins of the conversation again. You failed to introduce yourself proudly and your embarrassment made K'uk'ulkan coo—how precious could his princess be?

 He chuckles and patted Namora and Attuma on the crowns of their heads, successfully diverting their attention away from you and into his benevolent smile.

 “She's a little nervous, but she has a good heart. She also wishes to become your friend. But remember that you have to listen; it is the makings of a great warrior.”

 “A great warrior?” Namor's eyes sparkled. Attuma stared at his king with wonder similar to the spark of Namora's eyes.

 K'uk'ulkan chuckled and nodded. You chose this moment to swim to your father's side, hiding half of your body behind his own. You looked at Attuma and Namora curiously while they waited for their king's next words. 

 “A great warrior not only takes a spear and protects their people, but they listen as well. They listen to their people's cries and act upon their needs. It is also your duty to listen to your leaders—for they hold the burden of choice. Never forget that, my young warriors.”

 Your father rubbed your back soothingly and pushed you gently forward. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as soon as you were in close proximity with the two Talokanil children. 

 “Now this is your first task your king asks of you; listen to what the princess has to say, understood?”

 They were eagerly waiting for your next words, their bodies barely holding in their excitement. You would have swam away right then and there, but you steeled your resolve and took a deep breath.

 You said your name with a stutter, but that did not deter you. Your father gave you a reassuring pat to your shoulder. It filled you with more confidence to look them straight into the eye and say;

 “I—I wish to be your friend, Namora. Attuma.”

 The children gleamed happily, the water shifting as they circled you in excitement. Attuma had it in himself to wrap his arms around you and giggle with such carefree mirth that it covered you in a sense of welcome. Of belonging. 

 “You don’t know how long we wanted to become your friend, princesa!” He exclaimed, his arms still wrapped around you firmly. His toy spear now lay discarded on the ocean floor but he didn’t seem to mind.

 Overwhelmed with the attention, you stuttered and twitched in his embrace. But you didn’t feel uncomfortable; it was a pleasant feeling to finally have a friend. But you weren’t used to physical touches just yet.

 A large hand pried you off of Attuma, your hair whipping around you as you were now brought back to your father’s side. You saw him smile cordially at the boy, albeit strained, as his eyes twitched ever so slightly.

 “Now, we have to be gentle with the princess. There shall be no sudden touches in her presence, especially with you, Attuma.”

 Attuma blinked and cocked his head to the side, but he didn’t question his king’s instructions. 

Years have passed since you have befriended the rowdy young warriors that K’uk’ulkan looked upon with great fondness. You, along with Namora and Attuma, have trained under the wing of your father in the ways of the spear much to your new friends’ joy.

 As the next heir to the throne of your nation, you always did your best to meet the expectations that came with the name of the daughter of the feathered serpent god. You would go to the fields of your farmers to oversee harvest, weave baskets with the elderly to help the storage of the new batch of produce, and join the scholars that studied vibranium so you would further verse yourself to the mineral that grew in abundance in your ocean floors. 

 They were once such a tedious task for you; something that you did out of necessity. But Namora and Attuma made it a point to follow you everywhere you go, help you with the work and doubling the yields of your effort, and they made you smile when you were far too tired after your duties. 

 Attuma had made it a habit to make you cling on his back as you swam back home. There was no reason for you to get more exhausted than you already were, he told you. And despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself falling into a habit as well.

 You found your royal duties far more enjoyable with them by your side, and you absolutely awaited the time of the day where you were relieved of your duties to go and spend your time with them. 

 “Don’t you find studying boring?”  Attuma asked you one day, his meticulous hands polishing his training spear near the drop of the deep trenches. You tilted your head as soon as you seated yourself beside him, your legs dangling on the steep edge.

 “I don’t think so…the language of the surface dwellers is fascinating. I find it enjoyable to learn.”

 “You’re better off not knowing their language,” Namora huffed as she emerged from the bottom of the trench, a small lamp containing bright vibranium sustaining you with much needed light. She held her training spear proudly by her side, freshly decorated with shells that she found down below, “you know what they did to our grandmothers and grandfathers. I don’t see why you want to learn so much about them.”

 “It is my duty, Namora. Once I take the throne I might need to talk with the surface dwellers one day,” you looked down on your lap and fiddled with the jade bracelet your father had gifted you on your fifteenth birthday—one that once belonged to your grandmother, “and I’m just preparing…just in case.”

 “We’d be dead before we let any of those surface dwellers see you, princesa,” Attuma nudged his shoulders against yours and grinned, “we’ll make sure you don’t even have to talk to them as long as we’re there to protect you.”

 “Did father tell you to say that?”

 “What? No!” You gave Attuma a squinted eye stare and hummed. He averted his eyes nervously, his hands now working on his spear with more fervor than before. You and Namora snickered at his plight. 

 “He did.” Namora confirmed your suspicions. You sighed but left it be. You knew your father was just trying to protect you, so you let him do as he pleases. Although you did not fully understand the depth of the weight of his responsibilities, you could still recognize the great sorrow that came with his hate for the surface world.

 And you had kept quiet about your longing to go up into the land; for you knew how it would pain him to know that you bore as much love for the surface as you did for the love you had for your nation. 

 Attuma cleared his throat and straightened his back, the spear he had decorated with the teeth of hammerheads now lay by his side. He stared at you with such conviction that rendered you speechless in his presence, and the light from the faux sun that your father had created casted him in a glorious light that made your breath hitch in your throat and the feathers on your ankles bristle in anticipation. 

 “I’ll do my best to train hard, princesa. I’ll become strong enough to protect Talokan—to protect you—so that you won’t even have to worry about any surface dwellers by the time you will inherit the throne.”

 You felt more heat rush from your neck and now up to your eyes, his words giving you so much joy that you could possibly even imagine.

 You had a friend far more loyal than any of your own guards from your father’s command. And if there was one thing you had learned from your duties as princess, that was the honor that came with a loyal subject.

 Your flustered surprise was eventually replaced with giggles when Namora hit Attuma on the head with the brunt side of her spear, her face contorting to one of lighthearted teasing. 

 “Do you really think you’re the only one training to be by the princess’ side? You’ll have to go through me first.”

 “Then I’ll just have to train harder to beat you, Namora,” Attuma glanced at you and gave you a grin, “I’ll be the one to stand by the princess’ side.”

 “You’ve never even beaten me once.” “There’s a first time for everything.”

 She scoffed. “In your dreams.”

 You stopped their little play-fight before it got too heated by pulling them closer to your side, your arms around their necks and laughing with such elation. You were thankful that they came into your lives and became your closest friends, and you would not ever want to see them change as you slowly aged with the sea. 

 “While the both of you train to become warriors, I’ll study even harder so I could be a queen that both of you will be proud to serve under. I don’t want your efforts to go to waste and serve a leader that’s incompetent.”

 “You don’t have to do that, princesa. We shall follow you through the ends of the earth if need be. We already know that you outshine any ruler that came before and will come after you.”

 “My father would not be too pleased if he heard you say that, Attuma.”

 “He feels the same way, don’t worry.” Namora spoke in turn for the boy. You giggled when Attuma gave you a cheeky grin. 

 The three of you laughed with glee, unspoken promises now drifting with the currents of the outskirts of the capital city of your great nation.

It’s almost been a century since you have befriended them. A century since you have made your closest friends and aides. Namora and Attuma were always stuck by your side even when there were calls from their king to gather his strongest men. They gave you counsel, they gave you peace, they gave you protection in your times of need.

 Nowadays, though, Namora has frequented your father’s side more likely than not—mostly because she was his cousin and his most exemplary warrior. Attuma was only second in skill compared to Namora, but he was still powerful in his own right.

 You wondered when would your father hail them as generals; they deserve to be given the title for their service and their wit. You, as the princess of Talokan, can vouch for their competence. 

 “Where shall we go today, princesa?” Attuma asked you, his gait slowly inching closer to your own.

 The boy you once knew had grown into a fine man. He had honed his body to withstand the greatest blows, turned himself into a living shield for your purpose and disposal. You did not want him to go into such extremities, but he always insisted. He even went as far as to hunt hammerhead sharks on his own and nearly killed himself in the process. The bites of hostiles were lodged firmly into his stomach, and the scars that littered his skin became trophies of his successful exploits. 

 You cried and cried beside him as you told him how stupid he was, how foolish he was to do everything in your name. How could he throw himself into danger just to train himself for your sake? It did not make sense to you, and you reckon that you will never understand the mind of a great warrior like Attuma. 

 Despite this, he comforted you and held you close to him; told you that he would welcome any sort of pain just so he could protect you from harm's way. You cried again and punched him in his abdomen—you were sure to tell your healers that you would be the one to patch up your reckless guard as an apology. 

 You felt his warmth from the water that surrounded you as it shifted when he tucked a strand of hair behind your pointed ears. You smiled.

 “You can call me by my name, Attuma. You know that.”

 “How dare I ever utter your name so casually?” He asked you almost incredulously. You sighed.

 “We have been friends for over a century. You can be comfortable with me,” you turned to him with a pout, “please?”

 “Is that an order?” He asked you, a trace of amusement from his quirked lip. You huffed and crossed your arms.

 “You know I don't like giving orders, Attuma.”

 “Then I shall continue calling you by your title, princesa.”

 “And what if I ask you this as a request?” You swam closer to him, your pout breaking out into a knowing grin.

 Attuma stayed silent, his head turned to avoid your piercing gaze. He felt heat from the back of his neck at your proximity, but he didn't dare move away from you.  

 You huffed.

 “You're no fun.” 

 Attuma resisted the urge to chuckle. You looked at him in the corner of your eyes and smiled; you knew he couldn't resist it when you tried to make him laugh.

 “And what of your errands today?” He asked you, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. You blinked and swam towards him, pling his large bicep into the direction of your father's study.

 “We've wasted much time, Attuma. Now come, we are going to the surface.” He nodded in affirmation and led you towards the entrance of the underwater cave systems your father introduced you to as a child. It was one of your favorite places, but your duties called you to the deeper parts of the sea to tend to your people.

 As soon as you ascended, you saw the figure of your father dressed in his cloak as he painted murals upon the walls. Beside him was Namora, her mask on her face and her pallor now blue for being in land. You regarded your father with a bow, gestured him with the sign of your people’s respect, and slowly ascended into his study. 

 “Father.” you called out to him. He paused from his painting and smiled at you, his eyes filling with so much love that it was unlike the name the surface dwellers cursed him to be. 

 “In princesa,” my princess, he greeted you, reaching out to wipe the saltwater away from your eyes, “what brings you here?”

 “It is the time of the year to visit the surface, father. I was just here to let you know before I went.” His face steeled much like the other months across the century you had told him. But it was not in a place of anger—it was in a place of worry for your well-being.

 “I trust you to remember all that I have taught you. Return as soon as possible, understood?” You nodded and grabbed his hands, squeezing them tight in assurance.

 “You do not have to worry. You have taught me well. And Attuma will be with me while I am out, so I shall be safe in his hands.” 

 K’uk’ulkan glanced behind you, now regarding Attuma with a nod of acknowledgement as he placed his mask on his face. Attuma bowed his head in respect and tightened the hold on his spear. The king’s brows furrowed.

 “If you bring Namora with you—”

 “Father,”  you cut him off, “I will be alright. I will not do anything to endanger myself nor Attuma. I will merely visit the borders of the reef, is all. I’m sure our warriors have already scouted the area before they were called back.”

 “In waal…”

 “We always go through this every three months. I do not doubt your worries, but place your trust in me and the warrior I have chosen.”

 Attuma straightened his back a tad bit, his chest rising in pride. He met eyes with Namora and grinned behind his mask. Namora simply replied with a silent roll of her eyes. 

 K’uk’ulkan swallowed a lump on his throat and sighed. He knew you were right. He trusted you enough that you would be safe, especially when someone as skilled as Attuma were to be by your side. It was the surface that he did not trust. It took so much from him and his forefathers even before Talokan came to be. He did not want to lose you to the claws of the surface world.

 He would have volunteered to come with you, to make sure you were safe, but one look from Namora was all he needed to know that he was needed in the council in just a few moments.

 He sighed. There was no stopping you when you had your mind set on a task.

 “Stay safe.” He gently held the back of your head and ducked down to meet your forehead. You hummed and closed your eyes, squeezing his hand in assurance.

 “You sound as if I am going to war,” you joked, “I shall return safe. I promise. It is not something that I have not done before.”

 “You know your strengths, my daughter. But be wary, still. Negligence is the first sign of weakness,” he separated himself from you and turned towards the wall mounted with spears. He took one of his own and gave it to you, the vibranium of the weapon shimmering under the light of the luminescent algae. It felt balanced. Powerful. He then smiled, “and never forget your weapon.”

 You chuckled and bowed your head in respect, the spear now by your side.

 “Yes, father.”

 K’uk’ulkan turns to Attuma and beckons him forth. The warrior obeyed with no hesitance and bowed before his king. You watched as your father nodded to himself and placed a hand on Attuma’s shoulder.

 “She’s a bit of a handful, so look after her, Attuma.” You gawked at him.

 “Father!” 

 “I will do as you say, in ajawo,” my king, he said. The warrior dared to look up and showed his conviction to his king, “I will keep her safe—even when she is a handful.”

 “You did not have to agree with everything my father says!”

 Namora cleared her throat and cheekily chimed in. “K'uk'ulkan is our king. Whatever he says we agree to, princesa.”

 K’uk’ulkan ignored your huffs of protest and Namora’s silent laughter as he squinted at the man, the hand that lay on his shoulder now tightening in warning. Attuma held his ground and did not yield to his king’s hold. He knew the reason for his king’s aggression; it came from a place of protectiveness. You were his only daughter after all.

 And Attuma was a man who held a century-long love for you, something that K’uk’ulkan wasn’t particularly fond of.

 But you were too stubbornly attached to him that no scheme that K’uk’uklan thought of would separate the two of you. He was far too wrapped around your fingers to fully say no to your whims. The king’s only saving grace is the fact that you were far too oblivious to notice the affections of your own guard.

 K’uk’ulkan felt a sliver of sympathy for Attuma. Just a tad bit.

 He narrowed his eyes. “And there shall be no…detours along the way, understood? Keep the princess safe, no more than that.”

 “Yes, in ajawo.” With a final nod, K'uk'ulkan released his grip from his warrior's soldiers and bid a final farewell before being led out by Namora to the depths of Talokan. She gave Attuma a knowing glance and bowed her head before you. 

 “Be careful, princesa. The world will incur K'uk'ulkan's wrath if you return scathed.” She joked. But knowing your father, you did not doubt that he would burn the world if you would come back harmed in any way; more reasons for you to stay careful for your visit.

 You smiled. “I will be careful, Namora. Do not worry. I have Attuma with me as well.”

 She nodded and followed after her king to the water, now disappearing into your view. You faced Attuma and gave him a grin.

 “Let's go visit the surface.”

 You knew the underwater caves like the back of your hand. You weaved through the dark waters, greeting the guards hidden by the rocks. They bowed their heads and regarded you with the gesture of your people, a courtesy fit only for the daughter of their god and king.

 You smiled to yourself when Attuma swam forward when sunlight peeked through the entrance of the surface, his spear drawn and ready by his side. He looked so focused and attentive, his whole body on high alert. You giggled as you reached him and held his hand, squeezing it tightly while looking into his eyes. 

 “You are too stiff. Nothing will harm us here.” You told him. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. 

 “I am your aide. It is only natural for me, in princesa.”

 “I only wish for you to be at ease, Attuma,” you tugged him to the direction of the light, the sun now making itself known to the both of you. Attuma squinted at the sudden brightness; he wasn’t used to seeing something as intense as the real sun, after all. It was his first time visiting the surface world, “you will love the sights, I promise you.”

 Attuma felt wrong to be swimming beside you like you were equals. No aide of the high blood of Talokan should even dare to swim in stride beside a warrior who bore no rank. But by your side, he felt safe and welcomed.

 He did not feel fear despite it being the first time he had ever visited the surface world. Rather, he felt it to be…intimate, in a way. You trusted him wholeheartedly, put your safety in his hands as you ventured outside the safety of your own kingdom, and shared the experience that he knew to be significant to you even if you did not tell anyone your sentiments.

 But he knew. He always knew. 

 And he would protect you in great fealty as you explore the land that you so loved, even though he knew it would anger his own king to grant your taboo affection for the surface world.

 Away from the prying eyes of the other Talokanil, he allowed himself to indulge in his selfish desires and swam closer to you; your shoulders almost touching, hands tightly intertwined, and his heart finally free of the formalities that came with being your guard.

 He let himself become a man whose soul reached out to you in longing. 

 Your heads broke through the water and were hit by the rays of the golden sun. You let Attuma adjust to the light for a few moments, his hands shielding his eyes as he tried to view the sun from between his fingers. You watched his skin slowly turn blue as the air hit his skin, and you had to smile ever so slightly as you watched him marvel at the green forests just across the beach. 

 “Your mask.” You reminded him, the hand that was intertwined with his tightening in your hold. He nodded albeit meekly, seemingly embarrassed to have forgotten to equip himself in the midst of his awe, and let go of your hand to make sure his mask was secure.

 Attuma already missed the warmth as soon as he willed himself to part from you in a respectful distance, now aware how shameless he was to have succumbed to his own desires.

 You guided him to the rocks that overlooked the beach, just by the edge of the corals that your people have grown to create a border for those who visited the surface. It was a reminder on how you were never truly free to roam the surface and discover the riches beyond your own kingdom.

 The stories your father had told you plagued your mind, but beyond the violence that your forefathers have witnessed, robbed of the land that was yours by birthright, you wanted to see for yourself the motherland that your grandmother loved. You were angry at the surface dwellers, yes. You raged at the thought of the conquistadors that tainted your ancestral home. 

 But you never did loathe the surface. You just wanted to connect to the land of your ancestors that you were stripped of. 

 You were broken from your thoughts when you heard the squelch of water on rock. You looked beside you to see Attuma in full attention, his visage that of a man in full guard. You would have laughed if you saw him so serious in the midst of such a peaceful afternoon, but you knew how much his duty to you and your king meant to him.

 Attuma stood by your side whilst you leaned back and rested your feet on the water. You patted the space beside you, but he shook his head. You pouted. 

 “Join me to rest. You are not bound by the rules of my father here,” you told him, your face cracking into a mischievous smile, “be at ease, Attuma.”

 “Is that an order?” He gave you a glance, his eyes twinkling under the sun. Only now did you appreciate his dark gaze. It was as intense as it was full of life. You giggled and patted the empty space beside you once again. 

 “A request.”

 He stared at you for a few moments, his eyes locking into yours and sending shivers down your spine. You held his gaze, the water on your skin turning cold when the breeze hit your flesh. With a huff, he put down his spear and sat next to you, his hand dangerously close to your own. 

 “If you’ll allow me.”

 In silence did you bask in the beauty of the faraway beach that should have been inherited to you by your ancestors. The lands that stretched across the plains and the jungles of vivid colors would have been yours to rule by your father’s side. It pained you to know that you cannot even set foot on those beaches.

 It was the order of your father. The order of your king.

 An order to protect you from the surface dwellers that took your grandmother from him.

 It only served to remind you that—despite the feathered ankles that promised you freedom—you were caged in this lonely corner of the earth, away from the adventures that you wanted to experience in full. 

 “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked your guard, your eyes following the birds that idly preened themselves on the branches. Attuma stared at you from the corner of his eyes, his lips turning into a smile as you leaned forward in interest. 

 “Quite so.” His heart skipped a beat when your eyes twinkled in amazement, your gaze never wandering from the land. 

 “Would it be shameless of me to long for the surface?” You asked him suddenly. Attuma shook his head quickly. 

 “Never.”

 “Speak your mind. I did not ask you to indulge me and curry my favor,” you sighed and wrought your fingers together, your hand now leaving the proximity of your guard’s own, “I ask you for counsel, Attuma. You are one of the few people that I trust.”

 Attuma was silent as he mulled over your question. An aide to the heir of the throne must only listen and follow their whims. The will of their masters were the will of their followers; he dare not disobey such courtesy.

 But in the freedom of the duty that binded him to such rules by your order, he granted himself full autonomy. 

 “It might be so, in princesa,” you looked at him curiously. He held the urge to submit to you, to take back the words of his own opinion, and continued on, “you are the heir to Talokan, the nation built on the suffering of our ancestors who fled the land to hide in the sea. To long for the surface is a defiance to their dying will.”

 “But we were robbed of our ancestral lands. What if I long to get it back? To let our people walk in the motherland that we once came from? To let them see this; the beauty that they were deprived of when we were chased off our own inheritance?” “Then you should be prepared for war.” 

 He looked directly into your eyes, ones that held such young wisdom and hope. But he knew from the countless battles he fought that to reclaim the stolen land you wished to rule is to declare a fight that you were far too merciful to lead.

 “To reclaim the right that we once owned…you must be ready to shed blood; both the blood of the surface and the blood of your people. But to declare battle you must reveal our nation. Our king’s will shall not allow such a thing.”

 Attuma watched as you lowered your head, trapped in the swirl of your thoughts as you continued to deliberate the weight of his words. He flagrantly allowed himself to reach for your hand first, draw circles on the back of your hand tenderly, and scooted himself closer so his hulking gait would protect you from the prying eyes of the world. 

 You squeezed his hand with yours, your breath stuttering at your next words.

 “And what if I still desire to reclaim our land back, Attuma?” You looked up and held his gaze, your eyes now steeling itself to one of conviction.

 He smiled.

 “Then I shall shed blood for your will, in princesa.”

 You searched for any sort of hesitation in his strong features, to try and coax out any sort of loose ends of his loyalty. But you saw nothing of such sort; there only lay pure faith to your very existence, one that you recognize as unyielding. 

 You stared at him right in the eye. It was piercing, cold. One that beckoned utmost honesty from your aide. It was not a simple decision to make—even the words you have uttered this very moment would be considered blasphemous. Outright treacherous.

 “Even if it means to defy the orders of your king?”

 He did not waver as he replied.

 “You are the one that I serve. My loyalty lies with you.” He took his spear and knelt before you, his one knee digging into the rock in which you lay. He pierced his weapon down into the earth, took your hand to rest upon his cheek, and presented himself to the utmost fidelity.

 “Have you not sworn your service under the name of my father?”

 “I have sworn nothing,” he practically growled, his grip on his spear tightening, “I long for nothing more than to swear my piety to you. I am indebted to K’uk’ulkan; I revere him as my god and king. Yet I cannot stand the thought of offering my loyalties to anyone else but you.”

 You felt your heart throb against your chest, your eyes stinging with wet tears. It was a feeling foreign to you. The waves usually wipe your tears away at the bottom of the sea. But here on land, you wore your heart on your sleeve. It was an overwhelming feeling, one that urged you to cover your mouth to stifle your joyous sobs.

 In the face of the man you had grown up with, in the presence of such undying loyalty did you fail to mask your elation. Yet your head was muddled with confusion—why was he always so devoted to you? Why would he risk being cast out when your father still sits on the throne and swears his loyalties to you? Why was he so willing to defy the orders of his king for your selfish whims?

 You knew the weight of a warrior's oath. It was not something to be taken lightly. Warriors would swear upon the names of leaders who have fought countless battles, led the charge to warfare, and those who were considered gods like your father.

 You were none of those.

 You were not your father.

 “Why?” You asked him, your hands trembling against his cheek. “Compared to my father, I am nothing. Why would you swear your loyalty to me when I have nothing to give you in return? It will still be years—centuries, even—before I could inherit the throne and bear the title of queen mother. So why?”

 Silence fell between the two of you, the waves of the high afternoon playing the symphonies of its motherlands. You felt like you were suffocating despite the beauty that surrounded you while you waited for him to speak.

 Finally, Attuma slowly raised his head and kissed the palm of your hand. It brought a wave of heat from the back of your neck to your cheeks, and even the tips of your pointed ears warmed at the gesture. 

 “Will you allow me to speak out of turn?” He asked you, his voice uncharacteristically soft. You blinked back the tears that obscured your vision and nodded.

 “Speak your mind, Attuma.”

 He breathed in a stuttering breath, the hand that held yours tightening and trembling. It made you nervous; a warrior such as he, the embodiment of a shield that protects his nation, stuttered and shook in your hold. He could overpower you at any second, purge the world of your existence, but here he was, weak and vulnerable in your presence. 

 He locked eyes with you, those gorgeous oaken eyes stared deep into your very being without reservation. You found yourself feeling faint, as if you have fallen into a pleasant trap that you weren’t too keen on getting out of. 

 And with a steady voice he said;

 “I love you, in princesa. I always have since we were children. I only breathe to serve you, only live to please you. If you so asked me to burn the world and slay your enemies, then I will show you the ashes of their bones on a jaden chest. If you asked me to become your shield, then I shall parry every blade for you and protect you with my last breath. If you asked me to become your spear, then the blood of your foes shall dye the sea in red…” 

 He paused as he drew closer, the heat of his body enveloping you in a sensation of great adoration. He gripped your hand tighter, his lips lingering on your palms as he leaned further into your touch. 

 “...and if you asked me to become your beloved, then I will become the most faithful man you would ever lay your eyes upon—for your joys are my joys, and your sorrows are mine to bear.”

 You felt your throat constrict, the heat from your face now traveling down to the tips of your fingers down to the very ends of your feathered ankles. Your wings bristled and shook, your breath hitching at every breath, and you felt the sudden urge to look away from those unwavering eyes. But the gravity of his own magnetism was enough to drive you back in; to never tear your gaze away from the man that confessed his love for you.

 Though this begs the question; did you love him back?

 Attuma must have misunderstood your silence for rejection, so he slowly removed your hands from his cheeks and bowed his head in shame.

 “I have spoken out of turn. I apologize,” he held his spear tightly, but he never removed himself from his bow—a sign of his submission to you, “whether or not you accept my feelings, I will still stay by your side. I will serve under you, make my oath in the witness of K’uk’ulkan of my loyalty to you. I will ask for nothing more.”

 Your heart broke at how easily it was for him to apologize. No person should ever apologize for the feelings that they bear. It only proved how devoted the great warrior was to you; for him to present his feelings of love to you and still offer his loyalty in the face of rejection. 

 You recounted the days of your youth down to the decades worth of memories with him. How could you have been so blind to have ignored the signs of his affections? How blinded were you with your duties that you allowed yourself to turn away from the subtle declarations of his feelings for you?

 How foolish were you to actually dismiss your own feelings for him? You love Attuma. You always have.

 “Why have you not said anything in the century we have been together?” You asked him, your voice low and meek. You did not want to lose the warmth of his skin, so you gently lifted his head with both of your hands and let him meet your eyes. 

 You saw the gaze of your warrior waver.

 “My duty is to protect you. How dare I be so impertinent as to bear feelings for the daughter of my own king?”

 You shook your head and leaned in to rest your forehead against his. You heard the clatter of his vibranium spear on the rocks and into the water below. But you simply did not care at that moment. 

 “You are never impertinent, not when I bear the same love for you as you have for me.”

 You heard his breath hitch. The hands that lay dutifully to his side now flying up to your face and hold your cheeks so delicately. In the large and dependable hands of your warrior did you feel safe and loved. It was unlike the other times that he had shown you affection when you were merely just friends.

 What were you now, you wondered, now that you and him share the same feelings.

 In that moment of solace did Attuma realize his place, but he did not dare remove his hands from you. He ghosted his fingers over your pointed ears, tangled his hands with your wet hair, and held you tight like you were the most precious thing in the sea. 

 He was but a mere warrior—a shameless peasant whose hands had brazenly touched the skin of his master. 

 “I am just a warrior without a title. You cannot possibly love me as I am.”

 “But I do. I just have never realized it sooner, in yakunaj.” My love, an endearment that made Attuma’s heart flutter and weak against your hands. 

 “And when we are in the eyes of scrutiny, what then should you do?”

“It matters not, my dear warrior.” 

 “But your majesty—!”

 “Am I not the heir to the throne of Talokan? Am I not the princess whose rule is imminent in the witness of your king? Of whom I shall love is a matter of my own choice that not even the feathered serpent god could refute.”

 You drew in closer and wrapped your arms around him. He was strong and powerful, but in your arms did he surrender himself. He was not the warrior you knew him to be. In your arms, he was just a man who held a century worth of ardor.

 “I dare not disgrace you, in princesa. I have nothing in my name but the battles that I have fought as a mere soldier.”

 He removed himself from you and held you tenderly by the cheeks. You leaned against his touch, completely surrendering to the feelings that you have long since ignored since the beginning. He inched himself closer and continued to speak with great affection.

 “But if I would be so bold to ask for you to wait; wait for me to garner titles of my own, build the foundations of my exploits, and ask you again to become mine, would you be so merciful as to grant such a plea?”

 You stared at his resolve, the gaze of the man you have realized you have loved now asking you for the mercy to wait. You cupped his strong jaw and caressed his cheek with your thumb as you said;

 “I will grant you mercy, in yakunaj, only if you fulfill my wish.”

 He became alert, his body ready to grant your desires.

 “Anything, in princesa. Anything for your majesty.”

 “Then I wish for you to call me by my name, I beg you. We bear more than just pleasantries of warrior and royal.”

 He gave you a smile, one that even his mask could not hide, and leaned in to touch his forehead against yours.

 “Is that an order?”

 You smiled. 

 “A request.”

It was merely a few decades later that the great capital city of Talokan was abuzz with the whispers of a great blessing bestowed upon their royal heir. It lit the fire of pride within the citizens of the hidden nation, a pride that K’uk’ulkan wore with high regard as he descended to present himself on the forefront of his throne. 

 Their darling princess, the radiant pearl of the deep sea, was ready to assume the throne of K’uk’ulkan’s legacy. 

 As your citizens have revered your father as the god king of your people, they have revered you as the same; a deity whose hands extended to the waters to create a shield of protection, a divine being whose mercy radiates the warmth of a thousand suns, the daughter of the feathered serpent god whose wings carried you through the winds of battle through the century. Your chest bloomed with unending bliss when you realized you've lived up to the name of your father—an entity that you've molded yourself into the likeness of.

 You had held the expectations of the name of K’uk’ulkan to your very heart, and you were thrilled at the fact that your father had acknowledged your efforts in the witness of your people.

 Your kingdom cheered and praised your name as you descended into the throne room from above, the feathered headpiece similar to your father’s symbolizing your authority as heir apparent of Talokan. Your father extended his hand for you to take, and you had done so with such grace befitting of your title as radiant pearl of the sea.

 And there he had presented you with a throne of your own, just below the teeth of the monster of the deep oceans that he had slain many years ago. It was decorated with the finest of jade, vibranium, and gold with the likeness of an open shell. Compared to his throne that was decorated with the splendor of his long battles, yours was the embodiment of the abundant riches of your nation. 

 It was a symbol, perhaps, that the toil of your father’s work had borne fruit of great wealth to Talokan and passed down to the generations that would come next.

 The radiant pearl of the sea had finally assumed her reign as heir apparent after a century of her rule by the feathered serpent god’s side, and there was no one in the kingdom who would oppose to the majesty of K’uk’ulkan’s daughter—not because she had the blood of their king in her veins and the feathered ankles that proved her divine lineage—but because of her love for her people and the duties that she had so diligently carried with grace.

 K’uk’ulkan swam to your side and guided you to rest upon your new throne. It was a new feeling for you, one that could not compare to the childish wonder that you had just sitting on the lap of your father when you were still a wee babe. In the high seat of your throne did you overlook the citizens that had adored you, watched as they bowed their heads and put their hands in the likeness of a serpent’s mouth as respect to your inauguration.

 As much as you loved to see your people acknowledge you, you could not find a glimpse of your best friend and secret lover. To you, their opinions were the only ones that mattered. It would not feel as joyous as it is if they were not to witness your greatest achievements. 

 Where were they, you wondered. They promised to be here in time for your ceremony.

 “Something troubles you, in waal.” your father beside you, the feathers from his headpiece tickling the sides of your cheek. You gave him a smile, one that masked your worries, and found comfort in the hands that gripped yours reassuringly.

 “Namora and Attuma are not here,” you supplied him, your eyes scanning the crowd of your people, “I worry for them. They promised they would come.”

 K’uk’ulkan smiles and brings his hand to caress the base of your neck tenderly and rest his decorated forehead on your own. Your breath, which you didn’t realize had become labored, instantly calmed at the mere comfort of your father.

 “Quell your nerves, my daughter. They will come.” With a knowing smile, your father separated himself from you and swam up to sit in the jaws of his own throne. The people all cheered while chanting the words of praise to Talokan’s honor.

 K’uk’ulkan puts his hand up slowly and everyone falls into a hush. The air was still buzzing, the water under your command feeling the energy of everyone’s bated breaths as they awaited the words of their king.

 “We honor the place of my only child as the rightful heir of Talokan. She has proven herself worthy of such a title for a century, and the seas have blessed us with such excellence that no one could dare defy. The future of Talokan is bright.” 

 Your people cheered and hollered, yet your eyes still strain to find your best friend and lover. You tried your best not to feel upset, but you felt a painful twist on your heart.

 Where were they? It was unlike them to break their promises, especially your beloved warrior, Attuma.

 “Not only do we celebrate the coronation of my daughter’s place in my council, but we celebrate the oath of our two new generals.” your father continued, your head snapping up at the familiar silhouette of your secret lover up the grand entrance of your underwater throne room. Your heart settled and you smiled in great pride as your father presented them at last.

 “Namora and Attuma, the new grand generals of Talokan.”

 They extruded such power as they descended ever so slowly, the light of the vibranium sun creating a halo of light around their bodies. They wore new armor that suited their character; the likeness of the spines of a lionfish adorned the body of your best friend, Namora, and the skull of a hammerhead shark and the spikes of its teeth littering every crevice of Attuma’s plated armor. Both of them held their respective weapons made of vibranium, and you could only smile at how proud you were for them.

 You couldn't help but ogle at the sight of your warrior. You had kept your word and waited for him to finally gather his own accomplishments before asking for your hand. But that did not stop you from sneaking off and relishing yourselves in each other’s company. No one had ever suspected anything yet, but you gathered that your people were still under the impression that Attuma only bears one-sided love for you. 

 Oh your poor love, you didn’t mean to make him wait for so long.

 You wondered when he would finally ask for your hand, to finally make your blooming romance known to your father and your citizens. It filled you with warmth just thinking about the possibilities.

 You and Attuma locked eyes as soon as they had finished their descent, his eyes raking across your figure sat on your jeweled throne. He felt the need to kiss you right then and there, a privilege he had not yet taken across the decades of your secret romance in respect to his promise. He dared not touch you so inappropriately when you were not yet his, but he was sure to finally claim you as his own.

 You were a jewel in Attuma’s eyes. A gem fit to be heralded around in great praise to your charm. Although your beauty spoke wonders of your outward appearance, you were a strong warrior, maybe even as strong as Namora. You are wise like your father, and you cared for your kingdom in the ways that a mother would.

 You were crowned princess of Talokan, heir to the throne of K’uk’ulkan’s majesty, and the future queen mother of your nation. 

 Attuma could not even begin to describe in words such a blessing that fell into his hands so tenderly. 

 As soon as they were done taking their oath, bowed before you and K’uk’ulkan to swear their undying fidelity to your nation of Talokan, Attuma and Namora shared one look before your warrior ascended alone, careful to keep his gait below your eyes and on the feet of your throne. Your people fell into a hush, the momentary celebration ceasing to wait for Attuma’s next words.

 “In princesa,” he started, his eyes looking up to lock eyes with your father, “K’uk’ulkan. If I may speak.”

 “Attuma,” he regarded the warrior, his head held high in authority, “what do you wish to say?”

 “My fealty lies with no one but the princess,” he bowed low and presented presented his spear by the jewels that adorned your throne, “the oath I shall take is one reserved to be of service of her, and if she wills me to serve under you, K’uk’ulkan, then I shall do so with no question.”

 You waited with bated breath as your father stood from his throne and descended to stand in front of your warrior. Your heart thumped in your chest as you saw your father inch closer to him, his hand now resting on his shoulders and urging Attuma to rise. 

 “You have done a great deal for the name of my daughter, but the decision is hers to make.” K’uk’ulkan started, his voice carrying nothing but tender command. He turned towards you and beckoned you forward. You did so without question and swam beside your father.

 “Do you accept his oath, in waal?”

 There was no other answer for such a question. It was something that you had dreamed of since the beginning of your blossoming romance, the fantasy that you had always dreamed to come into fruition.

 With a smile that would outshine the stars of the night, you eagerly replied. 

 “I shall accept your oath with open arms, Attuma. My dear warrior.”

 Your people broke into joyous cheers as Attuma rose from his bow. You turned to pick the spear by the feet of your throne and presented it to him with a proud grin. He replied in kind, kissing the vibranium shaft that touched your hand as soon as he had received it. Heat traveled up your neck and into the tips of your pointed ears at the gesture, your fingers wringing together in bashful fluster.

 K’uk’ulkan smiled at the exchange, but he could not help but urge you away from the warrior and back to your throne. He could not help himself—you were far too precious to be in the presence of a man who fancied you all his life.

 The king turned to Attuma and regarded him with a nod and gesture of Talokan’s respect, the warrior replying in kind.

 “Serve her well, Attuma.”

 Before K’uk’ulkan could return to his throne, Attuma rose high and proud, brandishing his weapon only he could ever wield with such power. A show of strength, if you will, that left the people at awe at the display of his prowess.

 “My king! If I may be so bold, I have something to ask of you.” He declared, his voice loud and strong. Your brows furrowed in confusion at such a statement; what else did Attuma need when he had already pledged his service to you?

 You held the urge to giggle when your father turned with an amused chuckle of his own.

 “What is it?”

 Attuma turned towards you, the both of you locking eyes. And in that moment, he sent you an affectionate grin.

 And then realization hit you.

 He wasn’t going to—!

 “I wish for your permission to court your daughter, the princess.” Murmurs and excited gasps spread across the hall. You see Namora grinning to herself staring at Attuma, impressed. Your cheeks burned with heat, your chest pounding at how incredibly mad Attuma was for declaring something as bold as a courting during your coronation as crown heir. 

 But it was something that you absolutely loved about your warrior, no matter how insane he was to declare his desire to court you in front of the entire kingdom.

 Your father stiffened, his eyes steeled and ready to pounce at Attuma. He had to hold himself back—there was no reason for him to needlessly attack his finest warrior just because he expressed his desire to court you. He could not even dismiss such thought; the titles and the achievements of Attuma held far more worth than any man in Talokan. 

 From where it stands, and with your close relationship with the warrior, he was by far the only man worthy of your affection.

 And so, with a reluctance that held every possible threat in the world, K’uk’ulkan replied. 

 “Prove to me your worth, Attuma, for the radiant pearl of the sea does not need an incompetent suitor to court her.”

 “Father!” You hissed quietly. You felt your father’s animosity course through you in waves. You had to resist the urge to groan and sigh; he was so protective of you.

 But Attuma did not seem phased as he spoke steadily.

 “By your will, K’uk’ulkan.”

 In the eyes of your people did you swim beside your father and held his arm reassuringly. His steely gaze finally fell as he looked at you, and you allowed yourself to swim to the level of his ears and whisper, “Please be gentle with Attuma, father. I also bear feelings for him.”

 He looked at you like he was betrayed, but he was not surprised. How could you not have told him about your budding feelings for the warrior?

 Then again, he knew the throes of a woman when it came to sharing their romantic feelings, so he did not blame you for keeping it a secret from him, your own father.

 “How long have you known?”

 “A few decades,” you smiled sheepishly, “do not be so hard on the warrior that I have chosen. He means it in good faith, and he has done nothing to cross any boundaries set by your command.”

 “Are you sure?”

 “I swear it upon my name and crown, father.”

 Your father pondered on your words for a little while longer and resigned with a sigh. You pressed your forehead against your father’s and giggled.

 “Thank you for your leniency, my king.”

 You separated yourself from your father and swam forward to Attuma. He gave you a cheeky grin, one that screamed unapologetic mischief. You shook your head, amused as his antics, as you raised your hand to cup his cheek.

 “My father has given his word; prove to him that you are worthy of my hand so we will be together, my dear warrior.”

 He dared cup your hands that feathered along his strong jaw and leaned into your touch. You could feel your father’s piercing stare, but the both of you ignored it, too engrossed in your own little world in the watchful eyes of your nation.

 “Is that an order?” He asked you, his eyes boring into yours with such intensity that would have sent you immediately to your knees.

 You leaned in close until your lips met the base of his mighty headpiece, the jagged teeth of the hammerhead shark that he had slain digging firmly into the skin of his forehead. When you parted, you stared into his eyes; the eyes that held nothing but veneration to your glorious name. 

 And with a tender whisper to your beloved, you replied.

 “A request.”

Anyone up for a Part 2? >:))

Taglist: @haideehaids  @xnodamsel

[opencommunion]

"Dead are my people, gone are my people, but I exist yet, lamenting them in my solitude. Dead are my friends, and in their death my life is naught but great disaster. The knolls of my country are submerged by tears and blood, for my people and my beloved are gone, and I am here living as I did when my people and my beloved were enjoying life and the bounty of life, and when the hills of my country were blessed and engulfed by the light of the sun. My people died from hunger, and he who did not perish from starvation was butchered with the sword; and I am here in this distant land, roaming amongst a joyful people who sleep upon soft beds, and smile at the days while the days smile upon them. My people died a painful and shameful death, and here am I living in plenty and in peace. This is deep tragedy ever enacted upon the stage of my heart; few would care to witness this drama, for my people are as birds with broken wings, left behind the flock. If I were hungry and living amid my famished people, and persecuted among my oppressed countrymen, the burden of the black days would be lighter upon my restless dreams, and the obscurity of the night would be less dark before my hollow eyes and my crying heart and my wounded soul. For he who shares with his people their sorrow and agony will feel a supreme comfort created only by suffering in sacrifice. And he will be at peace with himself when he dies innocent with his fellow innocents. But I am not living with my hungry and persecuted people who are walking in the procession of death toward martyrdom. I am here beyond the broad seas living in the shadow of tranquillity, and in the sunshine of peace. I am afar from the pitiful arena and the distressed, and cannot be proud of ought, not even of my own tears. What can an exiled son do for his starving people, and of what value unto them is the lamentation of an absent poet?

Were I an ear of corn grown in the earth of my country, the hungry child would pluck me and remove with my kernels the hand of Death form his soul. Were I a ripe fruit in the gardens of my country, the starving women would gather me and sustain life. Were I a bird flying the sky of my country, my hungry brother would hunt me and remove with the flesh of my body the shadow of the grave from his body. But, alas! I am not an ear of corn grown in the plains of Syria, nor a ripe fruit in the valleys of Lebanon; this is my disaster, and this is my mute calamity which brings humiliation before my soul and before the phantoms of the night. This is the painful tragedy which tightens my tongue and pinions my arms and arrests me usurped of power and of will and of action. This is the curse burned upon my forehead before God and man.

And oftentimes they say unto me, the disaster of your country is but naught to calamity of the world, and the tears and blood shed by your people are as nothing to the rivers of blood and tears pouring each day and night in the valleys and plains of the earth. Yes, but the death of my people is a silent accusation; it is a crime conceived by the heads of the unseen serpents. It is a sceneless tragedy. And if my people had attacked the despots and oppressors and died rebels, I would have said, 'Dying for freedom is nobler than living in the shadow of weak submission, for he who embraces death with the sword of Truth in his hand will eternalize with the Eternity of Truth, for Life is weaker than Death and Death is weaker than Truth.' If my nation had partaken in the war of all nations and had died in the field of battle, I would say that the raging tempest had broken with its might the green branches; and strong death under the canopy of the tempest is nobler than slow perishment in the arms of senility. But there was no rescue from the closing jaws. My people dropped and wept with the crying angels. If an earthquake had torn my country asunder and the earth had engulfed my people into its bosom, I would have said, 'A great and mysterious law has been moved by the will of divine force, and it would be pure madness if we frail mortals endeavoured to probe its deep secrets.' But my people did not die as rebels; they were not killed in the field of battle; nor did the earthquake shatter my country and subdue them. Death was their only rescuer, and starvation their only spoils.

My people died on the cross. They died while their hands stretched toward the East and West, while the remnants of their eyes stared at the blackness of the firmament. They died silently, for humanity had closed its ears to their cry. They died because they did not befriend their enemy. They died because they loved their neighbours. They died because they placed trust in all humanity. They died because they did not oppress the oppressors. They died because they were the crushed flowers, and not the crushing feet. They died because they were peace makers. They perished from hunger in a land rich with milk and honey. They died because monsters of hell arose and destroyed all that their fields grew, and devoured the last provisions in their bins. They died because the vipers and sons of vipers spat out poison into the space where the Holy Cedars and the roses and the jasmine breathe their fragrance. My people and your people, my Syrian Brothers, are dead. What can be done for those who are dying? Our lamentations will not satisfy their hunger, and our tears will not quench their thirst; what can we do to save them between the iron paws of hunger? My brother, the kindness which compels you to give a part of your life to any human who is in the shadow of losing his life is the only virtue which makes you worthy of the light of day and the peace of the night. Remember, my brother, that the coin which you drop into the withered hand stretching toward you is the only golden chain that binds your rich heart to the loving heart of God."

Gibran Khalil Gibran, "Dead Are My People," written during the Great Famine of Mount Lebanon, in which 200,000 people were starved to death by a blockade imposed by European forces to weaken their Ottoman opponents in World War I. The man-made famine killed one in three people in Beirut and the surrounding Mount Lebanon Mutasarrifate (which encompassed today's North, Keserwan-Jbeil, and Mount Lebanon governorates). This peasant population was strangled by threefold oppression: from the European imperialist war machine, Ottoman Turkish imperial oversight, and the local capitalist class. The boom and bust of the global silk industry, monopolized by France, destroyed Mount Lebanon's silk-centered economy shortly before the war, leaving the population impoverished and vulnerable. The famine was key to the European victory which led to the occupation and partition of the Levant and enabled the colonization of Palestine. The partition placed Lebanon under French control, fulfilling a longstanding French colonial desire for Lebanese land and labor.

Further reading/listening: Graham Auman Pitts, "Was Capitalism the Crisis? Mount Lebanon's World War I Famine" and "A Hungry Population Stops Thinking About Resistance: Class, Famine, and Lebanon's World War I Legacy" Kais Firro, "Silk and Agrarian Changes in Lebanon, 1860-1914" Melanie Tanielian, "The War of Famine: Everyday Life in Wartime Beirut and Mount Lebanon (1914-1918)" and The Charity of War: Famine, Humanitarian Aid, and World War I in the Middle East The Fire These Times, Lina Mounzer and Timour Azhari, Legacy of the Great Lebanon Famine (audio)

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

The Music of Dolphins by Karen Hesse

Mila creates headlines around the world when she is rescued from an unpopulated island off the coast of Florida. Now a teenager, she has been raised by dolphins from the age of four.

Researchers teach Mila language and music. She learns, too, about rules and expectations, about locked doors and broken promies, disappointment and betrayal.

But the more Mila finds out what it means to be human, the more deeply she longs for her ocean home.

Emmy and the Incredible Shrinking Rat by Lynne Jonell

Emmy was a good girl. At least she tried very hard to be good. She did her homework without being told. She ate all her vegetables, even the slimy ones. And she never talked back to her nanny, Miss Barmy, although it was almost impossible to keep quiet, some days.

She really was a little too good. Which is why she liked to sit by the Rat. The Rat was not good at all . . .

Gideon the Cutpurse by Linda Buckley-Archer

1763.

Gideon Seymour, cutpurse and gentleman, hides from the villainous Tar Man. Suddenly the sky peels away like fabric and from the gaping hole fall two curious-looking children. Peter Schock and Kate Dyer have fallen straight from the twenty-first century, thanks to an experiment with an antigravity machine. Before Gideon and the children have a chance to gather their wits, the Tar Man takes off with the machine -- and Kate and Peter's only chance of getting home. Soon Gideon, Kate, and Peter are swept into a journey through eighteenth-century London and form a bond that, they hope, will stand strong in the face of unfathomable treachery.

Dragonbreath by Ursula Vernon

It's not easy for Danny Dragonbreath to be the sole mythical creature in a school for reptiles and amphibians -- especially because he can't breathe fire like other dragons (as the school bully loves to remind him). But having a unique family comes in handy sometimes, like when his sea-serpent cousin takes Danny and his best iguana friend on a mindboggling underwater tour, complete with vomiting sea cucumbers and giant squid. It sure beats reading the encyclopedia to research his ocean report . . .

Undertow by Michael Buckley

Sixteen-year-old Lyric Walker’s life is forever changed when she witnesses the arrival of 30,000 Alpha, a five-nation race of ocean-dwelling warriors, on her beach in Coney Island. The world’s initial wonder and awe over the Alpha quickly turns ugly and paranoid and violent, and Lyric’s small town transforms into a military zone with humans on one side and Alpha on the other. When Lyric is recruited to help the crown prince, a boy named Fathom, assimilate, she begins to fall for him. But their love is a dangerous one, and there are forces on both sides working to keep them apart. Only, what if the Alpha are not actually the enemy? What if they are in fact humanity’s only hope of survival? Because the real enemy is coming. And it’s more terrifying than anything the world has ever seen.

Poison by Chris Wooding

Poison has always been a willful, contrary girl, prone to being argumentative and stubborn. So when her sister is snatched by the mean-spirited faeries, she seeks out the Phaerie Lord to get her back.

But finding him isn't easy, and the quest leads Poison into a murderous world of intrigue, danger, and deadly storytelling. With only her wits and her friends to aid her, Poison must survive the attentions of the Phaerie Lord, rescue her sister, and thwart a plot that's beyond anything she (or the reader) can imagine. . . .

Kiki Strike by Kirsten Miller

Life will never be the same for Ananka Fishbein after she ventures into an enormous sinkhole near her New York City apartment. A million rats, delinquent Girl Scouts out for revenge, and a secret city below the streets of Manhattan combine in this remarkable novel about a darker side of New York City you have only just begun to know about…

Willa by Robert Beatty

Move without a sound. Steal without a trace.

Willa, a young night-spirit, is her clan's best thief. She creeps into the cabins of the day-folk under cover of darkness and takes what they won't miss. It's dangerous work--the day-folk kill whatever they don't understand--but Willa will do anything to win the approval of the padaran, the charismatic leader of the Faeran people.

When Willa's curiosity leaves her hurt and stranded in the day-folk world, she calls upon the old powers of her beloved grandmother, and the unbreakable bonds of her forest allies, to escape. Only then does she begin to discover the shocking truth: that not all of her day-folk enemies are the same, and that the foundations of her own Faeran society are crumbling. What do you do when you realize that the society you were born and raised in is rife with evil? Do you raise your voice? Do you stand up against it?

As forces of unfathomable destruction encroach on her forest home, Willa must decide who she truly is, facing deadly force with the warmest compassion, sinister corruption with trusted alliance, and finding a home for her longing heart.

Sammy Keyes by Wendelin Van Draanen

Grams always told her those binoculars would get her into trouble. Now Sammy's witnessed a crime at the Heavenly Hotel-a light fingered thief stealing $4,000 from Madame Nashira, the astrologer with the fire-hazard hair-do. Thing is, while she was watching him, he was watching her, too...

First Light by Rebecca Stead

Peter is thrilled to join his parents on an expedition to Greenland, where his father studies global warming. Peter will get to skip school, drive a dogsled, and finally share in his dad's adventures. But on the ice cap, Peter struggles to understand a series of visions that both frighten and entice him. Thea has never seen the sun. Her extraordinary people, suspected of witchcraft and nearly driven to extinction, have retreated to a secret world they've built deep inside the arctic ice. As Thea dreams of a path to Earth's surface, Peter's search for answers brings him ever closer to her hidden home.

[garden-of-thoughts-fruit-of-lips]

Revelation: 13:9

If anyone has an ear, let him hear.

2 Peter 1: 19-21

So we have the prophetic word made more sure, and you are doing well in paying attention to it as to a lamp shining in a dark place (until day dawns and a daystar rises) in your hearts. For you know this first, that no prophecy of Scripture springs from any private interpretation. For prophecy was at no time brought by man’s will, but men spoke from God as they were moved by holy spirit

Revelation 12:3

Another sign was seen in heaven. Look! A great fiery-colored dragon

Revelation 12:4

and its tail drags a third of the stars of heaven

Isaiah 9:15

...And the prophet giving false instruction is the tail

Revelation 12:9

So down the great dragon was hurled, the original serpent, the one called Devil and Satan, who is misleading the entire inhabited earth

Revelation 12:17

So the dragon became enraged at the woman and went off to wage war with the remaining ones of her offspring, who observe the commandments of God and have the work of bearing witness concerning Jesus

Revelation 13:5

It was given a mouth speaking great things and blasphemies, and it was given authority to act for 42 months. And it opened its mouth in blasphemies against God to blaspheme his name and his dwelling place, even those residing in heaven

Revelation 20:8,9

and he will go out to mislead those nations in the four corners of the earth, Gog and Maʹgog, to gather them together for the war. The number of these is as the sand of the sea. And they advanced over the whole earth and encircled the camp of the holy ones and the beloved city. But fire came down out of heaven and consumed them.

[joshsindigostreak]

O, Pioneers

Prologue

“Resist much, obey little.” - Walt Whitman

Sam Kiszka x F!OC

Authors note: Welcome Sam lane!!! This is the official start to Sam’s journey in the ISHIYE universe. This one starts around the same time ISHIYE started, so we’ll basically see what Sam has been up to this whole time. I will say that O, Pioneers along with every other spin off will make the most sense if ISHIYE is read beforehand. It’s all an interconnected universe and all the fics will reference each other to varying degrees. Every chapter besides this one will include a flashback to his Uni days. I hope you guys love this and I want to make Sammy Nation proud! I also hope you love my OC Natasha, as she just jumped into my head one day and hasn’t shut up since. Danny will also be heavily featured, it his actual story will be its own titled, “Running Through the Garden.” This is relatively short, but it’s a good little preview of what’s to come! Enjoy!

Word Count: 2060

Warnings: None for this chapter other than sweating!

It started with an email. One, stupid, email. One, professional, email. An email from one academic to another. Natasha just needed an extra source. Specifically, she needed to get her hands on a very specific journal. A journal that contained anatomical drawings and first hand accounts of the Lake Leelanau Creature. Colloquially it is referred to as the Leelanau Lake Monster, but the use of the word “monster” is frowned upon in Supernatural and Academic circles. Annoyingly, she only knew of one person who would be in possession of said journal. The one person whom she was perfectly fine never speaking to again: Sam Kiszka. He had built up quite the reputation in recent years with rumors of his immense archives and collection of particular artifacts. 

Natasha wrinkled her nose and adjusted her glasses as the cursor blinked on the screen. She could write emails like this in her sleep but the thought of asking him for something? Giving him the satisfaction that she needed his help? She’d rather be hit by a bus. However, she needed this information for an upcoming presentation and she had gathered almost all of her resources except this one. Adjusting her cat-eye frames one more time, she began typing.

From: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu 

To: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com

CC:

Subject: Lake Leelanau Journal

Dear Sam,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to you for a request for some scans from a book I know you possess and are familiar with: the Gautheir journal. Currently I am in the middle of a research project involving North American Sea Serpents and I need the pages with the anatomical drawings in particular, as well as any other pages pertaining to the first sighting of the Creature. Any contributions beyond that would be most appreciated. 

Kind Regards, 

Natasha E. Delaney 

States away, in eastern Michigan, a young scholar was startled by the sudden ding on his laptop, alerting him of a new email. With an arched brow he opened his inbox, and seeing the email address in the top bar brought back hoards of memories. 

Natasha. Fucking. Delaney. The only person to ever score higher on tests than him, to easily skate past him in grades, keep up with him during lectures, and narrowly beat out his GPA for the top of their graduating glass. He hadn’t spoken to her since graduation almost three years ago, but he couldn’t help being amused at the fact that she needed his help. He could just imagine that icy blonde hair of hers sitting on top of her head in a bun, those obnoxious cat-eye glasses resting on her nose while she bites the bullet and asks for his help. With a smirk on his face, he clicked on the reply button and began typing.

From: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com

To: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu 

CC:

Attachments: Secondary Leelanau sources.pdf

Subject: Re: Lake Leelanau Journal

Dear Natasha, 

Unfortunately your email did not find me well, as I am in the middle of several projects myself. Here at Stardust Archives™ the stream of knowledge never stops, and neither shall I. I also regret to inform you that scanning said journal for those particular pages will be impossible, as that journal is much too fragile to be handled in such a way. I do however have a few recommendations for similar sources, which I have attached to this email. I am so sorry I was not able to assist you further. 

Good luck on your endeavors, 

Sam F. Kiszka 

He sat back as he clicked send, knowing that most of it was horse shit. He hadn’t been in an actual project in nearly a month, but she didn’t know that. But he wasn’t lying about the journal being too fragile for scanning. Theoretically it would be ok with current technology, but he didn’t want to risk it as it was a trusted family heirloom that was given to him in confidence. In this business, keeping contacts happy was nearly half the job. Word of mouth was crucial, and if you couldn’t be trusted to handle things with respect and care, what good were you? Satisfied, he stood up from his desk to go back to the new shipment of books he was sorting. 

“That mother fucker,” she seethed. Natasha read his email again, mocking the ‘here at Stardust Archives™…’ line to herself while scrunching up her face. She knew for a fact that while that journal was old, it wasn’t that old. The librarian who had recommended that particular volume to her in the first place even said that it shouldn’t be any trouble to get scans of the pages. To make it worse, those ‘resources’ he had sent weren’t helpful at all, and didn't even go into detail of the anatomy of the Creature, which was what she truly needed. Rolling her eyes, her fingers began tapping out her rebuttal. 

From: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu

To: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com 

CC:

Attachments: Secondary Leelanau sources.pdf

Subject: Re: Re: Lake Leelanau Journal

Sam,

I’m so sorry to hear how busy you are. However I was told specifically that the Gauthier journal was preserved enough that scans wouldn’t be a problem at all. Has something changed? Has it been damaged in any way since it was last made public? I hope such an integral part to your own state's history would be treated with the utmost care. If I remember correctly from that class we both took, with Professor Andrews, paper from that time period would still be stable if exposed to light or a scanning device. In fact I remember he said once, “as long as you’re not mashing it down on a decrepit photo copier from 1993…”. Surely you have a better scanner than that? If you could get those scans to me as soon as you’re able, that would be wonderful. 

Regards, 

Natasha

The ding from Sam’s laptop alerted him again, and his smile quickly faded when he opened the mail program and saw Natasha’s response. On one hand, she had the right idea, but on the other hand, whatever project she needed it for was not worth the risk in his eyes. His mouth hung open in offense with her questioning his integrity to Michigan history. Artifacts from his home state were always given top priority, and to have her imply that he was being careless with any of them made his entire body tense. Instinctively, he wanted to just send back a simple, ‘no,’ but he knew that would only make her more relentless. 

From: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com

To: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu 

CC:

Attachments: Secondary Leelanau sources.pdf

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Lake Leelanau Journal

Nat,

You aren’t entirely wrong about it being possible, however the family who entrusted it to me made me promise -in writing- to keep it as well preserved as I possibly could. As such, any form of scanning or sudden exposure to light is just not an option.  I hope that the other resources I sent you were enough to suffice. I know whatever project you’re needing them for will manifest in the most riveting way. 

Godspeed, 

Sam F. Kiszka

Natasha tilted her head and cracked her neck when she saw the shortened form of her first name. She hated being called Nat. It was too close to the word for those annoying bugs. Worst of all, it was what her older sisters called her just to get under her skin. All three of them would repeat it over and over again when she was little and laughed when she got upset. Her oldest sister would even take it a step further and call her ‘Natty’ on occasion. She hated how it sounded, how it looked, and she much preferred the nickname ‘Tasha’ if she had a choice. Most of her fellow students called her Tasha, as well as her close friends. Even on blind dates she’d introduce herself as Tasha before anything else. 

From: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu

To: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com 

CC:

Attachments: Secondary Leelanau sources.pdf

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Lake Leelanau Journal

Samuel,

I appreciate your passion for the preservation of critical documents, it’s truly inspiring, Professor Andrews would be proud. But I think you’re being rather difficult here. If not unreasonable. And no, those other resources did not help as they are not relevant to my ongoing project. I appreciate your confidence in my work, but what would truly help me be on my way would be your cooperation. 

Impatiently, 

Tasha

Sam stared at the screen. She really wasn’t going to let up, was she? He thought for a moment, and something in his brain wanted to physically hear her ask for his help. Maybe it was his ego, maybe it wasn’t, but he was impulsive enough to go out on a limb to satiate it. 

From: sfkiszka@stardustarchives.com

To: nedelaney@lakewooduniversity.edu 

CC:

Attachments: Secondary Leelanau sources.pdf

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Lake Leelanau Journal

‘Tasha’,

Unfortunately, I must be away from my desk at this time due to other projects and meetings. However, if you would like to continue our correspondence, I will happily provide you my number for your convenience. 

(248) 555-9423

In eternal anticipation, 

‘Muel’

Natasha stared at the phone number on her screen. That little shit. He wanted to hear her ask. It didn’t take a genius to figure that part out. Maybe he wanted her to beg? He was arrogant enough to want such a thing. She wasn’t going to give in that easily. She wanted his arrogance in writing. If he couldn’t be professional and stick to emails, he was going to have her in his pocket at all times, constantly making his phone go off. Quickly she added his number as a new contact, and typed out her first ever text to Sam F. Kiszka. 

Natasha: Ok cut the shit, Kiszka why are you being difficult? 

Sam: Who is this?

Natasha: I swear to god, Sam

Sam: Ok ok, fine. Do you really want to see this journal that badly? 

Natasha: I have wasted an entire afternoon emailing you about it, so yes. 

Sam: Well as I said I can’t scan the pages. But if you would like to view them in person for your research, that can easily be arranged. 

Natasha: In person?

Sam: Yes, that's when people meet face to face. 

Natasha: I’m going to ignore that for my sanity, but don’t you live in Michigan?

Sam: Yes.

Natasha: You do know that I’m in Lakewood for my Masters right?

Sam: Yes, what is the issue?

Natasha: So you want to travel all the way to Vermont just because you are refusing to scan the pages? 

Sam: Oh I wouldn’t bring an artifact that fragile on a plane, you know that. You can simply come here. I know there’s a break coming up, if I remember our old schedule correctly. 

Natasha nearly threw her phone, but she wasn’t going to give up. Before she could fully type out a response she got another text.

Sam: And don’t worry about needing a hotel there’s plenty of room upstairs for you. My parents are in Canada on business and my brothers are off doing god knows what. 

Natasha: I’m sure I can find a hotel I don’t want to put you out

Sam: It's really no trouble, we have a separate guest room anyway that barely gets used 

She mulled it over for a few minutes. 

Natasha: Well I’ve never been to Michigan.

Sam: It’s much better than Vermont.

She sighed.

Natasha: Fine. I’ll talk to my professors and get it sorted out. The break starts in two days. 

Sam smirked at his phone and leaned back in his chair,  he was right.

Sam: Excellent. I’ll go dust the window sills and pick out the fanciest chocolate for your pillow.

Natasha: I’ll text you my flight details. 

Sam: Can’t wait, Nat ;)

Not wanting him to know that he bothered her, Natasha set her phone down and opened up another webpage to look up flights. By the weekend she was going to not only be in Sam Kiszka’s presence for the first time since graduation, but staying at his fucking house. 

What the fuck did she just agree to? 

To be continued...

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden  , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne , @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar , @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky ,

[laninasinamor]

NASHURI TWINS PT. 1

The Boy

(original 🎨 by my friend @commanderbunny, specifically made for me on my bday 💕 love you boo) (YOU CAN SHARE BUT DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT CREDIT!)

Born on the fourteenth day, otherwise known as the day of the Jaguar (Ix)…

Birth Name(s):

🌎Ix Muun (meaning “tender”, his true name)

🌍Prince N’Jata, Son of Shuri (given name by the Golden tribe of the sovereign nation of Wakanda)

☀️Kinich Ahau (Sun God), Son of K’uk’ulkan (royal name as addressed by the Kingdom of Talokan)

Aliases/Nicknames:

“First son of the first son”

“Son of Suns”

unyana wam (“my son” in Xhosa)

in paal (“my child” in Yucatec Maya)

ubhuti (“brother” in Xhosa)

suku’un (“older brother” in Yucatec Maya)

Och Kan (meaning “Vision Serpent”) - Shortly after turning five years of age, the young prince dreamed of death — that of a whale. The next day his people found strangely their whales missing, vanished without a trace. They supposed someone or something had done this. He felt panicked. He did not know what it meant until more and more his dreams came true. They came to realize his dreams were not dreams at all. The gods granted him visions, an access to the spirit world where he could travel to & from the mortal realm. Talokan’s shaman knew immediately this boy had the gift of foresight — the ability to see into the future. Except the future is never as certain as it seems, even with a power as strong as his.

Abilities:

Seer - which includes divination, clairvoyance, precognition

Flight - he grew wings on his back instead of the ankles

Superhuman strength, speed

inherited X gene from Namor - thus he breathes underwater and above the surface

Description:

Born under the sea with the Sastun (“Sun”) at its highest

“Heir to the throne of Talokan” - The prince feels pressure from his father to learn the trades and one day rule the kingdom and take care of his people. K’uk’ulkan requires the prince to keep the “sun” to his people, he is named after the sun god after all. However he’s inclined to go with his sister to the surface world, save people, soar high in the skies, much like an eagle.

He admits he did not take interest in becoming a great warrior. The prince prefers to stay in Talokan where he’s comfortable and enjoys time alone. However his loneliness creeps up time to time and he’s entangled in his sister’s schemes and her wishes to sneak out to Wakanda. She would not survive without him. Nor he her.

The prince works with Talokanil priests and shaman where he focuses on being a healer, working with medicine and taking care of crops.

He CAN hunt and knows his way around the “forest” that is the open sea.

One of his and his sister’s favorite activities is playing Pok-a-Tok (“ballgame”), some would say they have mastered this sport but the twins are never satisfied knowing there’s always room for improvement

Uses obsidian blades for bloodletting practices, Talokan knows royal blood is of value and has to be given willingly for the gods to grant him visions when he most needs them. Polished obsidian mirrors may also be used in this process

Very introverted yet wishes to stand out more, to achieve a level of assertion only his sister demonstrates.

The prince is very secretive about his visions, he feels he cannot trust anyone with certain information.

Traits:

Soft-spoken, spiritual, mysterious, clever, sophisticated, strategic, sensitive, intuitive, natural born leader, can seem manipulative

Something still haunts the boy, a vision he saw soon after turning 16. The Talokanil had legends of the old world before they departed towards the sea. It spoke of an eclipse where the moon covered the sun, as if day were night. An omen of destruction, of death that could not go unseen. Even so, the boy told no one. Not his father, the god-king. Not even his sister, the warrior. Especially not her. His visions continued and the more he saw the more he feared. She would be the end of Talokan, the end of an era. But his visions weren’t always right. So is she Chac Chel, destroyer of worlds? Or could she be Talokan’s only hope in salvation?

(Thanks to my Nashuri fam! Love you guys <3 feel free to tell me what yall think 💭)

Click here to read the short story on ao3

Part 2

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Serpent part 3

Prequel, part 1, part 2

A lesser man might crumple to his knees and beg for mercy, but not me. I do not bow or scrape. I rear back and hack her door down, forcing myself into the home of the truest evil I know. I slay her guards, their sickly sizzling sweet blood splattering me black and red. I give death a second dying, crunching down on twitching severed limbs like I were walking across a field of dry twigs.

The serpent winds itself up a crumbling tower. She is there, it knows. The Queen of Undeath lives in her ancient castle, that which was there before she rose and will be there long after she falls. 

The sea of monsters and beasts swells, a never-ending tide of blood and gore for me to wash myself in. Where was this back when I thirsted for it? I want to revel in this massacre, but all I can see is my love and our children. 

The memory proves too much, and I call for the serpent. Take me, I beg. Take me and make me care for nothing again. Make me Maizen, Shatterer of Worlds.

For a moment I fear the worst, that the serpent has abandoned me in my time of need, just as I did to my family. My scything falters, and the horde presses in. A ghoul reaches out and snags my arm, scratching a red ribbon onto my skin.

That finally catches the serpent's eye. The red haze fills my vision again, clotting out all emotion. I have peace again, peace at the centre of a whirlwind of blades and blood. I can feel the serpent in all my movements, its coils tightening against me, puppeteering me.

When I reach the base of the Lich-Queen's tower, it is with regret that I flee the battle. I would gleefully fight the thralls until their corpses drowned me, but the serpent has other plans. Or perhaps I did, me with my loving pulsating fleshbag of a wife, back in the days when that mattered. When was that? A hundred years ago? A thousand? The effort of trying to remember makes my head spin, and the serpent has to force me up the stairs.

I slam into the door to her throne room, heaving against it with my shoulder. The wood is ancient oak, too-moist and rotting, no match for me and my serpent. Splinters as big as some daggers embed themselves in my flesh, but I do not care.

All I have eyes for is the Lich-Queen, seated on her throne of bone and twitching sinew. Her crown drips with horrors, blood and bile and worse besides. Her gown is dotted with eyes too large to belong to an adult, and her corset is adorned with the ribs of some fool man. Those eyes stun me, blue like a stormy sky, more awe-inspiring than the finest siren.

But that is not where her majesty lies. No, her true beauty comes from her power. It comes from the way the ground of Ceredell shakes with the footsteps of her army. It comes from the way her magic has brought a nation to its knees. It comes from her sheer power, breathtaking as the sun and twice as deadly.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[stories-me]

Potential Character for Mrs. Kelsey and Tumblr 5/22/2024:

Rambley Raccoon, Chief Mascot of Indigo Park:

What he’s from: Indigo Park.

What he might be in: Gamma World.

All about him (according to the “Indigo Park Guide”): “The star of the show is here! Everyone’s favorite trash panda, Rambley is here to make sure you have the most fun as possible! While his friends may think he gets a bit too excited, Rambley is always there for his friends! No matter what happens, Rambley will be there to brighten your mood! Meet Rambley today, only at Indigo Park, located in scenic REDACTED!”

Personality:

He can be rather childish, likes trains, and likes to hear himself talk. He takes his job very seriously, places a large amount of importance on those he considers friends, has a good conscience, and wants to do what’s right.

Background:

Rambley is one of the inhabitants of Indigo Park, and, like the others, was based on one of the beloved characters of animator Isaac Indigo. His life and his job were simple: Make the guests happy, alongside his friends: Francis Fox, Mixie Mouse, Finley the Sea Serpent, Lloydford “Lloyd” Lion, Salem the Skunk, and Mollie Macaw. Even his “enemy”, Salem Skunk, and his rival, Lloydford “Lloyd” Lion, were a part of this.

Then, one day, something happened. Something bad. Something none of them expected. It started when some of the guests and “cast members” came in. They looked uneasy and nervous, but, at first, didn’t want to talk about why. Eventually, one of the cast members mentioned that there were “tensions” between America and certain other nations, but assured Rambley that “life would go on”.

Suddenly, a strange sound was heard. A siren. The guests and cast members began panicking. Rambley and his friends tried to calm everyone down. Then there was a big flash and it felt like something hit them.

In spite of all this, Rambley managed to convince his fellow mascots to keep everything ready, for when the guests returned. Francis kept the gardens in order, Mixie made treats and dishes, Finley kept his shell collection in order, Lloyd rehearsed for his performances, Salem used their inventiveness to create gadgets around the park, Mollie kept her planes in working order, and Rambley himself organized things and kept the park clean.

They continue to wait for the guests to return. Maybe those folks on the horizon might be guests!

How he is like me:

We both put a lot of emphasis on friends (like Trey, Mr. Kuartez, Dr. Mosier, and others) and we like to talk about things that interest us (like Rambley likes trains and I like fan fictions).

Kelsey Notes:

Sometimes individuals with autism never outgrow their “childlike” interests and preferences. 

          This relates more to feelings of nostalgia and remembering a simpler time in their life

It can also relate to having an appreciation of something from the past that they feel guilty forgetting about (i.e. holding on to stuffed animals or VHS tapes)

Rather than fixate on what might have happened to the guests, Rambly was able to encourage everyone to hold on to hope and keep everything up and running until their guests made it back

Keeping the park up and running gave them jobs to do and kept them busy in their spare time even though they didn’t know if the guests would return or not

Rambly was able to help keep them distracted to not find out about the events happening outside of the park

Sometimes keeping busy can be a good thing because it helps to build tolerance for non-preferred activities

Having enough activities to fill the day can also be helpful when we get bored of our interests- it’s hard to believe that we can get grumpy spending TOO much time with our interests and free time

          It does happen and this is usually when a support system steps in to help with activities outside of the house, etc.

There is such a thing as having too much time to think which can often lead to restlessness, anxiety or hyperactivity

Jobs like keeping the park up and running, even if it seem pointless, helps Rambly and friends balance their time and it keeps them distracted from overthinking too much about what could be happening outside the park

[kookaburra-laugh]

I read that in 2022 - GO Edition

hi friends, i come with a list of fic recommendations on this first day of 2023! for me, 2022 brought new friends and new fandom and im eager to share what i’ve read and loved with you all

not all of these were written in 2022, but that’s when i read them

Accept a Little Spin by nieded @nieded ​

rated E | 100k+ words (ongoing)

It's the 2023 season, and sophomore driver, Ezira Phale, is out to prove he's worthy of his seat at McLaren F1 as the world tests the boundaries of his confidence and his relationship with IndyCar driver, AJ Crowley.

Part 2 of Rainbow Road 🏁🌈

Waking Up Slow by the_moonmoth @themoonmothwrites

rate E | 88k words

After both being exposed to coronavirus, total strangers Crowley and Aziraphale are forced to wait out their isolation together. A tale of soft winter romance by the sea.

close quarters pining, slow and hot and full of feelings

stalwart sun, wily moon by dustnhalos @dustandhalos ​

rated M | 370k words

Anthony J. Crowley is a world-class art thief with a complicated past who, until now, had been pretty content with going through life as part of a prolific black market art trafficking ring.

That is, until a simple logistical hiccup leads him straight into the path of one Aziraphale Fell, former Head Conservator of the British Museum turned antique repair shop owner.

Little do they both know, the strands of friendship, morality, and deception in their shared circles of the London art world are interwoven in even more complex ways than either of them could have expected...

such rebel blood by curtaincall @fremulon​

rated T | 60k words

Anthony Crowley needs a break. Six months after being tried for murder, he’s struggling to find a new publisher for his mystery novels—and to conquer his (apparently unrequited) feelings for Lord Aziraphale Eastgate, the man who saved his life.

Spending a few weeks out in the country working on a murder-mystery game for a rich young American’s twenty-first birthday party seems like an easy choice. But when the simulated death becomes all too real, Crowley finds himself caught up in the investigation—and crossing paths once more with someone he feared he’d never see again...

 Part 2 of A Love Story with Detective Interruptions        

No Room at the Inn by summerofspock @summerofspock

rated T | 735 words

A tipsy makeout scene for the prompt Bed Sharing.

tender and mild on main

Anatomy 101 by Fyre @amuseoffyre

rated E | 102k words

Two humans are enjoying some alone time. A demon has questions. An angel has answers.

an owners manual of sorts that developed feelings along the way

 Mark of the Serpent  by NaroMoreau, summerofspock @naromoreau ​ @summerofspock ​

rated E | 150k words

Prince Aziraphale is about to be crowned King of Angelhaven when he's taken captive by pirates. When he's sold as a pleasure slave to King Crowley, ruler of the nation readying for war with his, he is forced to keep his identity a secret as he tries to find a way home and keep peace. But not everything at King Crowley's court is as it seems and Aziraphale will have to face machinations of a Royal Court that are far more complex than he had thought.

A Captive Prince AU with an omegaverse twist.

Unusual Occurrences at A.Z. Fell and Co.'s  by WritesEveryBlueMoon @gwenstacyismyicon

rated T | 1500 words

When the bizzare and amusing habits of Mr A.Z. Fell, bookseller, begin to trend on the internet, those who dwell on various social media sites share their frustrations, confusion, and extraordinarily unusual stories.

An Oddly Mesmerizing Display by ZehWulf @zehwulf

rated E | 29k words

Crowley's a sex-indifferent/favorable asexual omega fresh off suppressants and in the market for someone to help him through what promises to be a trial of a heat. His friend gets him tickets to the Spring Fling Heat Date Auction, where he can win a date with an eligible alpha (or omega). Naturally, a certain alpha with a regrettably memorable stage magic show and intriguing scent catches his eye...

On The Habits Of Vampires And Retired Goths by munchmulch @munchmulch

rated T | 21k words

The thing is about Crowley's new neighbor, the thing is that Crowley is very, very gay.

the best kind of miscommunication. crowley has vampire traits and aziraphale makes some connections. aziraphale has wolfish traits but crowley is blinded by love and willfully ignores them

 A Guide to Fame for the Enterprising Demon by asideofourown @asideofourown

rated T | 8k words

[Crowley accidentally gets a bit famous, and the internet figures out he may be a bit immortal]

 All The Dreams We Had by ImpishTubist @impishtubist

rated T | 6.5k words

This time will be different, Aziraphale thinks. This time, Crowley will remember.

crowley cant remember falliing in love, no matter how many times he does it

do you know what eternity is? by gazing @choreomanic

rated T | 16k words

I'll pretend to propose, Crowley said.

It'll be fine, Crowley said.

It was, Aziraphale decided, not fine.

tender and mild on main. incredibly soft and silly and cute. so many proposals 

Till death do us part (or not) by fractalgeometry @geometricfractal

rated G | 2.5k words

Awkward Tesco reunions: the real curse of immortality

exactly as it says on the tin. hits all the best feels

All That’s Best of Dark and Bright by hope_in_the_dark @hope-inthedark

rated T | 5.5k words

When Crowley drops a bomb on a church, Aziraphale falls in love with him. This should be a secret, but unfortunately, Aziraphale's never been much good at keeping them.

a heartwrencher to be sure, but so sweet and gentle at the same time

Hanging By a Moment by NaroMoreau @naromoreau ​

rated E | 5.5k words

Sometimes the best thing is to leave. Fresh slate and all that. For Crowley, it seems like the only option, having fallen hopelessly in love with his best friend.

crowley convinces himself that this moment with aziraphale that he's always wanted doesnt mean the same thing to both of them. but he's leaving next week so he's going to make sure this experience will be one to remember

Echo by snae_b

rated E | 52k words

This isn’t your average coffee shop AU.

kinda sorta amnesia/time loop but so much deeper! bamf protective devoted crowley

Amazing by nightbloomingcereus @moondawntreader

rated E | 9k words

Aziraphale thinks he's been hired to perform his magic act at a party. It turns out that there's been a slight misunderstanding and everyone thinks he's there for an entirely different sort of show. Good thing the caterer is there to save the day.

Green Groves by NaroMoreau @naromoreau ​

rated E | 16.5k words

Aziraphale Fell isn't entirely happy living in his father's house. But when a new friend enters into his life, his whole world will change in an unexpected way.

Paper Thin Walls by angelsnuffbox @angelsnuffbox

rated E | 16.5k

Sure being in love with your best friend when he also happens to live in the flat next door, where you can hear every single one of his conquests through that shared wall, sounds challenging. But being in love with your best friend when he lives next door and you two used to shag? Might just be a tad more difficult, but Aziraphale muddles through somehow.

Be Ye Therefore Merciful by AmberDiceless

rated T | 9.5k words

Crowley does something utterly unexpected, and Aziraphale must face an opponent who cannot be thwarted. Hints of pre-A/C.

bookverse - crowley is injured by a blessed bullet in a warzone and aziraphale uses his full will (and rules lawyering) to keep him safe.

Any Way You Want It by Justkeeptrekkin @justkeeptrekkin

Saving the world is exhausting work. With Heaven and Hell off their backs, it seems as good a time as any for Crowley and Aziraphale to take a proper break. Neither one of them predicts the direction their holiday takes.

a scotland vacation, some realizations, and confessions to match. tender and mild on main.

Small Cock Appreciation Society by cheerios_and_wine @cheeriosandwine

rated E | 6.5k words

Crowley is the founding member. Aziraphale's is the member.

incredibly sweet and hot. crowley and aziraphale fit so well together

Lift Me Up, O Lord by CopperBeech @copperplatebeech ​

rated E | 37k words

Aziraphale Fell’s maintained a string of weightlifting victories, a strained relationship with his family, and his grandfather’s waistcoat right into his fifties.

Distance runner Anthony Crowley’s spent the last decade watching his racing career recede in the rearview, but it doesn’t stop him running, literally, away from his feelings.

lifter aziraphale, runner crowley, and a bicycle race

Boyfriend Debut by snae_b

rated E | 20k words

It’s fucking on camera. It’s not that complicated.

sex with feelings between porn stars who really hit it off

Pop the Question by tweedfeather @tweedfeather ​

rated T

Crowley plans to pop the question to Aziraphale at their favourite restaurant. Things don't go as planned.

A short, sweet, and silly fan-comic.

Where We Will Love by TawnyOwl95 @tawnyontumblr​

rated E | 17.5k words

Crowley busks in Piccadilly Circus.

Just down the road in Haymarket, Azra Eastgate performs at Her Majesty’s Theatre.

One duet is going to change both their lives.

Trust Me, I'm A Professional by Lurlur @lurlur ​

rated E | 12k words

After a mishap with a client, Crowley finds himself booking in at his local emergency department. His bitchy angel of a nurse takes good care of him, making Crowley regret that he can't really just leave his number.

Perhaps the universe has other plans for his love life?

Many Ways To Say It by Fledglinger @fledglingdoodles ​

rated G

"Listen well, dear ones, for there are many ways to tell him 'I Love You'..."

an incredibly sweet comic

Steamed by summerofspock @summerofspock ​

When Aziraphale's favorite porn star walks into the coffee shop where he works, it completely derails Aziraphale's day.

What happens when the sexy guy you're used to watching fuck people on your computer screen is actually the most awkward man you've ever met?

Heavenly Hands by ZehWulf @zehwulf ​

rated E | 7.5k words

Even girlbosses need a bit of stress relief between gaslighting and gatekeeping, and Crowley is no exception. Good thing she has a standing appointment with an angel from Higher Calling Relaxation. (A porn trope parody fic.)

A Sharper Sweet  by musegnome @musegnome ​

rated E | 5k words

Nothing smells quite the same any more. He bends over the plates anyway, and breathes in deep. Cinnamon and chocolate, fruit and sugar and butter. The scents would have set his mouth watering, before. He reaches out to touch the raspberry sauce drizzled over the cake, and stares at the drop of deep pink puree mounded on his fingertip.

crowley enjoys some sweets for his vampire partner and they both have a rather enjoyable time. a little angst at the start

Pavlov's Backroom by justheidi @scienceismygirlfriend

rated M | 444 words

"A word with you, angel. In private."

A conversation in the backroom of the bookshop.

Trying it On by snae_b

rated E | 6k words

Anthony Crowley. Stylist to an elite tier of the UK’s hottest stars. And now, apparently, to one dowdy, soft around the middle, recently divorced publishing heir.

Intermezzo by FeralTuxedo @feraltuxedo​

rated E | 47k words

Music critic Aziraphale Fell is trying to break into the world of television, when he is signed to make a documentary about former-rockstar-turned-composer Anthony Crowley. It’s been eleven years since Aziraphale’s disastrous review of Crowley’s debut opera nipped his classical music career in the bud. He can only hope that Crowley will get over his admittedly justified grudge to make the TV show a success.

  A classical music sex comedy. Yes, really.

Coq au Vin by Ginger_Cat @gingiekittycat​

rated E | 13k words

Tonight’s the night. He can feel it in his bones, in his wings, in his demonic soul. It’s going to happen—months of showering the angel with flowers and chocolates and perfect picnic lunches and walks thorough the farmers’ market, romantic row-boat rides on the lake and concerts in the park and dinner at the Ritz and everything in-bloody-between, are all culminating in this one night.

Because Crowley is making Aziraphale dinner, and Crowley is going to kiss him.

When the Sun Goes Down by TawnyOwl95 @tawnyontumblr

rated E | 16k words

Mr Anthony J. Crawleigh, disgraced heir to the Helton Abbey Estate, has been summoned home to attend his sister's engagement party.

It's only four days of shooting, dancing and making nice with nobs. He's survived much, much worse.

If only Mama hadn't arranged for such a handsome young man to undress him every night. Practically asking for trouble, that is.

Everything I've Had by AppleSeeds

rated M | 13k words

After developing a chronic illness that leaves him unable to live alone, Crowley moves back home to London where he reunites with his childhood best friend Aziraphale. Aziraphale helps to take care of Crowley and keeps him company while he's in bed, bringing them closer together and reigniting old feelings.

for the first time by summerofspock @summerofspock​

rated E | 3k words

It’s been six months since they’ve seen each other any way besides over FaceTime and Aziraphale is desperate for the sound of Crowley’s voice without the filter of the tinny speakers of his iPhone, for the smell of the crook of his neck, for the way his body fills the space beside him. He knows Crowley will be here soon and yet his heart hardly believes it is real.

Rivers Of Gold by entanglednow @entanglednow​

rated E | 7k words

Crowley is commissioned to sculpt an angel for a family chapel, but the more he uncovers from the marble the less willing he is to give it up.

amaretto by goosewriting @goosetooths​

rated E | 69k words

Aziraphale, a human, has grown used to being alone.

Everything changes for him when a unique occult relic falls into his hands and loops him into a contract with a mild-mannered (if a bit snarky) demon named Crowley.

[valarhalla]

"Gone are my people, but I exist yet,

Lamenting them in my solitude...

Dead are my friends, and in their Death my life is naught but great

Disaster.

The knolls of my country are submerged

By tears and blood, for my people and

My beloved are gone, and I am here

Living as I did when my people and my

Beloved were enjoying life and the

Bounty of life, and when the hills of

My country were blessed and engulfed

By the light of the sun.

My people died from hunger, and he who

Did not perish from starvation was

Butchered with the sword; and I am

Here in this distant land, roaming

Amongst a joyful people who sleep

Upon soft beds, and smile at the days

While the days smile upon them.

My people died a painful and shameful

Death, and here am I living in plenty

And in peace...This is deep tragedy

Ever-enacted upon the stage of my

Heart; few would care to witness this

Drama, for my people are as birds with

Broken wings, left behind the flock.

If I were hungry and living amid my

Famished people, and persecuted among

My oppressed countrymen, the burden

Of the black days would be lighter

Upon my restless dreams, and the

Obscurity of the night would be less

Dark before my hollow eyes and my

Crying heart and my wounded soul.

For he who shares with his people

Their sorrow and agony will feel a

Supreme comfort created only by

Suffering in sacrifice. And he will

Be at peace with himself when he dies

Innocent with his fellow innocents.

But I am not living with my hungry

And persecuted people who are walking

In the procession of death toward

Martyrdom...I am here beyond the

Broad seas living in the shadow of

Tranquillity, and in the sunshine of

Peace...I am afar from the pitiful

Arena and the distressed, and cannot

Be proud of ought, not even of my own

Tears.

What can an exiled son do for his

Starving people, and of what value

Unto them is the lamentation of an

Absent poet?

Were I an ear of corn grown in the earth

of my country, the hungry child would

Pluck me and remove with my kernels

The hand of Death form his soul. Were

I a ripe fruit in the gardens of my

Country, the starving women would

Gather me and sustain life. Were I

A bird flying the sky of my country,

My hungry brother would hunt me and

Remove with the flesh of my body the

Shadow of the grave from his body.

But, alas! I am not an ear of corn

Grown in the plains of Syria, nor a

Ripe fruit in the valleys of Lebanon;

This is my disaster, and this is my

Mute calamity which brings humiliation

Before my soul and before the phantoms

Of the night...This is the painful

Tragedy which tightens my tongue and

Pinions my arms and arrests me usurped

Of power and of will and of action.

This is the curse burned upon my

Forehead before God and man.

And oftentimes they say unto me,

'The disaster of your country is

But naught to calamity of the

World, and the tears and blood shed

By your people are as nothing to

The rivers of blood and tears

Pouring each day and night in the

Valleys and plains of the earth...'

Yes, but the death of my people is

A silent accusation; it is a crime

Conceived by the heads of the unseen serpents...

It is a Sceneless tragedy...And if my

People had attacked the despots

And oppressors and died rebels,

I would have said, 'Dying for

Freedom is nobler than living in

The shadow of weak submission, for

He who embraces death with the sword

Of Truth in his hand will eternalize

With the Eternity of Truth, for Life

Is weaker than Death and Death is

Weaker than Truth.

If my nation had partaken in the war

Of all nations and had died in the

Field of battle, I would say that

The raging tempest had broken with

Its might the green branches; and

Strong death under the canopy of

The tempest is nobler than slow

Perishment in the arms of senility.

But there was no rescue from the

Closing jaws...My people dropped

And wept with the crying angels.

If an earthquake had torn my

Country asunder and the earth had

Engulfed my people into its bosom,

I would have said, 'A great and

Mysterious law has been moved by

The will of divine force, and it

Would be pure madness if we frail

Mortals endeavoured to probe its

Deep secrets...'

But my people did not die as rebels;

They were not killed in the field

Of Battle; nor did the earthquake

Shatter my country and subdue them.

Death was their only rescuer, and

Starvation their only spoils.

My people died on the cross....

They died while their hands

stretched toward the East and West,

While the remnants of their eyes

Stared at the blackness of the

Firmament...They died silently,

For humanity had closed its ears

To their cry. They died because

They did not befriend their enemy.

They died because they loved their

Neighbours. They died because

They placed trust in all humanity.

They died because they did not

Oppress the oppressors. They died

Because they were the crushed

Flowers, and not the crushing feet.

They died because they were peace

Makers. They perished from hunger

In a land rich with milk and honey.

They died because monsters of

Hell arose and destroyed all that

Their fields grew, and devoured the

Last provisions in their bins....

They died because the vipers and

Sons of vipers spat out poison into

The space where the Holy Cedars and

The roses and the jasmine breathe

Their fragrance.

My people and your people, my Syrian

Brother, are dead....What can be

Done for those who are dying? Our

Lamentations will not satisfy their

Hunger, and our tears will not quench

Their thirst; what can we do to save

Them between the iron paws of

Hunger? My brother, the kindness

Which compels you to give a part of

Your life to any human who is in the

Shadow of losing his life is the only

Virtue which makes you worthy of the

Light of day and the peace of the

Night....Remember, my brother,

That the coin which you drop into

The withered hand stretching toward

You is the only golden chain that

Binds your rich heart to the

Loving heart of God....."

"Dead are My People," Kahlil Gibran, written in response to the Great Famine of Lebanon in 1916.

[mother-liquor]

Some Sunless Sea (Chapter 1)

Pairing: captain!Hongjoong x gn!welder!reader 

Plot/Theme: After Death of The Outsider/Magical Steampunk

Warning: English is not my first language

Word Count: 1.8k

Author-note: I’m new ATINY so I don't quite grasp the concept of the group and their characters. The MC is supposedly my mute OC but I will make it as general as possible becoming Y/N.

Genre-note: It could be “Romantic or Platonic” according to your interpretations. I take a lot of details from Dishonored (video game) and inspirations from Treasure Planet (movie) settings.

Hongjoong : captain

Seonghwa : navigator

Yunho : quarter master

Yeosang : surgeon

San : gun slinger

Mingi : sail master

Wooyoung : cook

Jongho : boatswain

“The High Artificer has found a way to melt the stars.” - Yunho

"You have lost to politics." - Seonghwa

"Even though they made a discovery, they will keep them from anyone. That kept each nation from developing itself, industrially and militarily." - Yeosang

"What makes people want to reach space?" - Mingi

"We have an untouchable ocean and unexplorable continent." - Seonghwa

“It really sounds legendary but honestly I think it’s not more than a tale.” - Jongho

"There are land whales and flying serpents in Pandyssia. People will not crawl on the moon any time soon." - San

"So, we can't get this ship to fly? What if the tale is true?" - Wooyoung 

“That person must be working in restricted areas.” - Mingi

"You mean The High Artificer?" - Yunho

"Yup." - Mingi 

“We can break all the curbs and blast them.” - San

"How can we get richer than the Empire when you turn all coins into fire?!". - Wooyoung

As usual, the crew banter while Hongjoong takes his time admiring the sunset. The energy shifts between day and night. A renewal moment for the notorious pirate captain.

"Should we go for an inspection? We have already reached Gristol." - Seonghwa asks Hongjoong.

"I heard his name was Bartholomew. But I assumed he died and has been replaced by someone more proficient." - Hongjoong 

"Well a lot is happening after the young Empress rule again." - Yunho

"She is known as The Just, The Clever." - Mingi

[A while later]

"We're arriving in Potterstead." - Mingi

"I thought we are meeting the Empress in Dunwall." - Wooyoung

"Well, I shall crown you the Emperor first." - Hongjoong

[After loading in port]

"San and I will go to the black market. Seonghwa and Wooyoung will go to the fresh market. Yeosang and Yunho will go for maintenance supplies. Mingi and Jongho will go looking for extra janitors."  - Hongjoong 

"Okay time for non-sailing job." - Mingi

[At the black market]

"Hyung, are we lost?" - S

"This is exploration, San." - H

"The town looks crowded." - S

"It's a busy business port." - H

"Look, hyung, I can see the sign." - S

"Finally." - H [Rush] 

The shopkeeper is intrigued by the new faces. "Oh, welcome, how can I help you?"

Underground, Hongjoong can distinguish shabby and tidy appearance. This person seems rather natty for a black market shopkeeper (BMS).

"Yes, let me have a look." - S

After San gets some ammunities, Hongjoong notices a wristbow from the shopkeeper's sleeve.

"Can I commission the weapon on your wrist?" - H

"Sorry, Sir. This is not for sale." - BMS

"Why not?" - H

"It requires a masterwork blueprint." - BMS

"How much does it cost to make yours?" - H

"Smashing smoke, some sorcery, and special steel." - BMS

"I see, it requires delicate work and material. I will grant your price." - H

"1000 coins for a six day process." - BMS

"How about I give you 2000 so I can get it in three days?" - H

"I will try for a sneaky businessman." - BMS

Hongjoong grabs one of the shop bar, putting a gold ingot on the counter. His sudden move makes the shopkeeper study his face.

"Do you need my name for it?" - H

"Only if you want your name on the wristbow." - BMS

"You can put 'DESTINY' on it." - H

"Alright Mr. Destiny. May you always look sharp." - BMS

Sharp, Hongjoong likes that. Unfortunately, San is still concentrating on how to remember their way back to the ship and doesn't catch his captain smirking a little on the way.

"I hope we can meet again outside the Velentzas (secured shop counter bars brand)." - H in his mind

"Any good news from the streets?" - San

"A bunch of loud, affectionate, and tired men." - Seonghwa 

"The Empress has ordered the dissolution of Abbey." - Yunho

"HA??" - Wooyoung

"The High Overseer became insane and a mess showed up." - Yeosang

"What mess?" - Mingi

"After Emily Kaldwin announced the dissolution of the Abbey of the Everyman, Void rifts appeared shortly." - Seonghwa

"Void rifts?" - Wooyoung 

"A crack between two worlds." - Yunho

"That sounds like a harmless portal." - Jongho

"No, it is destroying everything in its path." - Yunho

"Wait, that means no High Overseer, no High Artificer." - Yeosang 

"They are all gone! We can't go to space!" - Wooyoung 

"Is this the end of the world? The end of Aarde?" - San

"Why is there a Void rift in the first place." - Hongjoong

"I heard from a mercenary that the Outsider is no more. " - Mingi

"How do you know that?" - Hongjoong 

"I rented her skiff. She told me to be cautious about the current situation." - Mingi

"There are dangers lurking." - Seonghwa

"This is too much fear for a short time. I need my rich sleep time." - Wooyoung 

"Why does the Isle suddenly go into pieces?" - Yunho

"It is not suddenly, it is gradually expected like the Roseburrow Industries." - Hongjoong 

From my understanding of the Empire, Dunwall holds the refining processes necessary to give whale oil its full potential. The disappearance of whale oil as a power source evokes the discovery of another type of fuel. We only see slaughterhouses in Karnaca, but no oil refinery. As I see it, the companies in Dunwall and the ruling Empress, or Emperor, before controlled the state of industrialism of each nation by keeping that science for themselves. But the whales started to become scarce around quickly, which led to a whale oil rationing by official decree by now. 

The next day, Hongjoong and Jongho went to the Estate District. 

"We're going to deliver goods for the Boyles." - H

"They're still in business?" - J

"The plague makes some of the richest getting richer." - H

(Arriving at the Estate District)

"Such a fine estuary." - J

"That's why we dress up nicely today." - H

"Why are they watching us?" - J

"High treasure, high patrol." - H

Hongjoong shows the guard his cameo with the name "EE" and a figure. The guard recognises it as Emperor Euhorn special seal.

"Let them pass." - Guard

"How did you get that thing?" - H

"A collection of my treasure." - J

Reaching the Boyle's mansion, they are welcomed by the sight of a beautiful garden, white stone building, and clean air much different from the port atmosphere. A woman in a fine suit approaches them.

"Captain Hongjoong." - Lydia 

They sit at the garden chairs.

"Lady Boyle. Thank you for the hospitality." - H

"Oh I am sorry, the house is still on preparation for a party." - L

"The Pennant Festival?" - H

"Yes. I hope it will be frolic after people recover from the plague. It has never been the same since those days. I'm sure the world will recover." - L

"I hope so." - H

"So, what can I help you with?" - L

"I come to deliver the oud wood from the Pandyssian desert. It already extracted for convenient use. Your package." - H

"Oh, thank you. I remember also to give you this." She hands a letter with the Chief of the City Watch seal, Samantha Nathaniels.

"This can make you enter Dunwall with your ship. And also this" She hands a pouch of pearls and ingots.

"I can make my mansion scented otherworldly for the party. Memorable." - L

"Thank you. We shouldn't take too much of your time." - H

"You should come in two days. I cordially invite you and your friends may come too." Lydia hands an invitation.

"Should I bring any surprises?" - H

"I heard that pirates sing sea shanties the magical way." - L

"You expect a performance." - H

"Many talented people gone, to be honest, I also wonder what kind of adventure you can bring out of the ship." - L

They excuse theirself from the mansion area.

"Let's get some stuff first." - H

"What stuff? A map?" - J

"Another blueprint and yes, a rundown map of the Festival." - H

"What kind of blueprint?" - J

"One I commissioned from The Royal Morley Constabulary." - H

"A military grade? San will be delighted." - J

(I can't interpret from the game and wiki perspective what kind of status is Lady Boyle in the story. At first, I thought they were three wives of Lord Boyle. After I learn again, they are sisters or different women, idk. But, I take their personality to my story, not accurate with the game plot.)

***

"Wait, it was a water desalination unit?" - Jongho 

"Yeah, we need fresh water." - Hongjoong 

"I thought it was a weapon or bomb." - San

"Why?" - Wooyoung 

"Because we are not spending the rest of our life with sea water for bath." - Seonghwa 

"It's time to not get stinky." - Yunho 

"It's just a fragment. We need a real engineer." - Hongjoong 

"Or we can make Wooyoung goes to engineering school." - Mingi

"But, Mingi is smart." - Wooyoung 

"Can we just extract the knowledge somewhere?" - Yeosang 

"How about everyone gets a copy and look around town so we can get a person who can actually work with it." - Hongjoong 

"I'm not going." - Mingi

"Whoever has the result first can…." - Hongjoong 

(This sentence turn on their competitive brain and all of them all gone)

***

At night, the black market shopkeeper (you) takes a stroll to a nearby tidal creek. You have made a small battery from salt water. It started with making voltameter from an industrial commission. Saltwater batteries have a lower energy density than whale oil tanks, meaning they store less energy in the same amount of space. But you decide this option is more cost efficient especially for the increasing whale scarcity and the official restrictions.

It is absolutely revolting scenery especially with the darkness and smell. You wish you could feel mountain quality fresh water. 

"Ubun-Ubun." You called your familiar ride. A magical whale shark with stars sparkling across its body. You fly to harvest some water from the clouds instead with your magic.

Gristol is a temperate land known for its rolling green hills and foggy meadows. Spending time in the air is always refreshing. Unfortunately you can't do this during the day time. People might get panicked. It feels like stealing the rain.

Neither of you or your ride sense the presence of a flying ship. Well, there are no street lights up here. You didn't notice but Hongjoong saw you. He put his spyglass down. No words, he only gazes at the sky with a wonder-struck face. 

[mooniety]

i'm bored so here's a little info dump about the metasusie siren au i made two months ago:

TRIGGER WARNING: extremely brief mention of suicide

Starting off with the original one (where Meta's a siren/serpent thing):

Susie lives in a village near the sea.

Haltmann is a wealthy merchant whose health is slowly deteriorating due to an illness he obtained after his most recent travel across the ocean which has caused him to fall into a coma.

Coping with her current circumstances, Susie starts to sing in an isolated area by the shore to let out her internal struggles & pain. She is not aware that the day she begins to do so, a funny sea monster (Meta) is currently causing ruckus in the area (eating fishermen).

Because Meta is near the shore having his meal of the day, he happens to hear Susie singing & due to his siren instincts, he's immediately attracted to the song & follows it to find Susie. After this, he begins to appear by the shore more often to solely listen to her sing (& terrorize the village more I guess).

After months of failure & now more than desperate to find a way to wake her father from his coma, Susie begins to believe in the village's rumors & myths, specifically one that states that if you sacrifice yourself to the ocean, your greatest wish will come true. (Just a reminder from your local responsible adult: Rumors & myths such as this are not real & I do not in any way advocate this. This is suicide.)

One day, while waiting for Susie to sing, Meta hears a large splash into the ocean, goes to check on it, & lo & behold, it's Susie.

Even though she technically is an easy meal of the day, he instead decides to save her as he is completely aware of what she's doing (not the rumor, just the suicide). Also he developed an extremely one-sided crush listening to her sing for a few months (Susie has never been truly aware of his presence up until this point; only knowing him as "Oh yeah, did you know there's a huge humanoid serpent in the ocean that eats humans & lives really close to us?" & dubbed by the villagers as "Sword of the Sea" as Galaxia is infused into his tail).

After Susie realizes she's alive, Meta immediately dishes out a deal with her: in return for saving/waking her father, he'll have her voice (YEP IT TAKES THE LITTLE MERMAID TURN KINDA). As in, she can't see her father because she's too busy singing for the fish man. This is where their purely contractual to lovers relationship starts!

Over time, Susie gets to know more about Meta & his life so his feelings for her are eventually reciprocated. Think of it as a Beauty & The Beast montage.

Anyways, Haltmann's all good & Susie has a lover yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I also have a flipped version where Susie's the siren:

Meta is an infamous pirate, known as the "Knight of the Seven Seas." The Meta-Knights are his crew & his ship's obviously called the Halberd.

His current mission is to capture the Voice of the Sea (Susie) alive so he can get that sweet bounty on her head.

The reason why Susie is being hunted down/has a bounty is due to her rumored voice - seen as more of a commodity/prize than an actual living being.

He manages to easily injure & capture her, but notices that she's not really all she's made out to be - she's oddly not very hungry for humans & her domain looks more like an underwater memorial for someone rather than a graveyard of sailors.

This is because Susie's domain is an actual memorial to her dead mother, who died a long time ago after being accidentally killed by sailors. (Original characters?! Nah, too lazy to make them.)

After being captured, Susie explains that she's partially human as her father was a human merchant that would travel the seas to bring prosperity to other nations & she has been singing for years under the hopes that her father will reunite with her someday. However, after waiting for over a decade, he still hasn't arrived.

Pitying her, Meta decides to make a deal with her: if she helps him make her bounty, he'll help her reunite with her father. This is where their purely contractual to eventual lovers relationship starts!

During their adventure searching for Susie's father, Susie learns about nature beyond the sea (such as flowers) in which Meta explains that they're used to show respect to the dead (comparing it to how sirens show respect to their dead through treasure & valuables). In every island they visit, Susie collects more & more flowers, hoping to add them to her mother's memorial when she finally returns with her father.

To add in a bit of fluff, when Meta first introduces Susie to the concept of flowers, he places one in her hair, explaining to her that this is usually a gesture to indicate affection, but immediately doubles down stating that he just did it to educate her. (Haha, sure.)

Eventually, they both learn that Susie's father died a long time ago due to health complications as after learning about the loss of his wife, he attempted to search for his only family left, his own daughter (Susie) to no avail as his complications caught up to him before any possible reunion.

When they finally visit his grave, Susie decides to decorate his grave with all the flowers they collected over their previous journeys.

Anyways, Meta gets his money but also a lover yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[undertakeruo]

GENSHIN IMPACT | EVERLASTING MOONGLOW AWAKEN AND UNAWAKEN WEAPON [UI]

(Lvl 90. Stats)

BASE ATK :697 HP 49.6% R1 Passive :

Byakuya Kougetsu: Healing Bonus increased by 10%, Normal Attack DMG is increased by 1% of the Max HP of the character equipping this weapon. For 12s after using an Elemental Burst, Normal Attacks that hit opponents will restore 0.6 Energy. (Energy can be restored this way once every 0.1s.)

"The "pearl and waves" emblem of the Sangonomiya is said to represent the waves that embrace Watatsumi, And the bright pearls that can be found there. But some also say that it shows the jeweled wheel of Watatsumi Omikami keeping eternal vigil over the land of coral like the moon.

In the dreams of the deep sea where sponges and coral dwell, in the depths where flowing clouds and ocean sands dance as one, Undying hope would pass from generation to generation of those descended from their god — they who dreamed the same dreams as Watatsumi. The colors of the skies are ever-changing, and the lights and shadows cast deep beneath the waves are of forms ill-defined... Thus did the brilliant compassion that the dark ocean could not conceal diffuse in tranquil bliss.

In those days, the first Divine Priestess once led her brethren with wisdom as precious as pearls, And she selected clergy from amongst the people newly introduced to the sun, who aided the offspring of their god in comforting those for whom the light of day brought terror. In latter days, the "Umigozen" who made the navies of Narukami tremble would sing whale-songs alongside them, And it was this symbol that they drew as they danced with the airborne kurage.

Some years later, a single bolt of lightning would reject the dream of the Watatsumi people. Into the storm slithered the serpent, the lightning's ruthless glow to surely face... But the children of the god and the shrine maidens, who had hearts of pearl, would not forget. Countless tales, gratitude unnumbered, and that ring of ocean gems would forever be passed down, And they would shine ever brighter and more beautifully for it.

Whether it be the histories of the jeweled branches being torn or the birth of precious pearls, Or the defeat of the wicked creatures in the depths to bring sunlight to the pale nation beneath the waves, Or how the young man who dreamed of standing atop Mt. Yougou came to have the name of an "evil king," and had his great duel against the tengu... All these would light up the hearts of the children of Watatsumi, like pearls from the heavens, like waves under the moon's glow. They will carry the pain of loss away into the churning, salty waters, storing them within radiant pearls. May the stories and sacrifices of the age of gods forever be handed down, along with this emblem of "pearl and waves."

Even if the storm clouds should gather, and even if the violet lightning's ferocity be perilous and unpredictable, The silver moon of Watatsumi shall still pierce through the clouds and scatter forth its light"