#ore to shore

[narwhalandchill]

im sure u know the crab meta but theres a ton of them on the unmapped island in mond ?

indeed. that things been stationed there for so long it might as well be a permanent waypoint at this point KWDJJKWDJKWDJKWJK

[sexilene]

MORE 80s SLASHER JOHN B!! PLEASE I BEG

YESSS OFC!!! (sorry about any misspellings, ignore em lol!)

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - pinv, slight gaslighting, violence, death, spanking, drowning, dark!john b but also kinda sweet john b in a concerning way lol- ₊˚⊹

john b watched you from afar, sitting on a picnic table in the shade making yarn bracelets with some of the kids in his group, his eyes never leaving your figure for more than a few seconds. you were chatting away with one of the other counselors and a few of the little girls in your group. the little girls were teasing you and the guy, richie, by asking if you were boyfriend and girlfriend and to "kissss" each other.

"no way am i kissin' him! i happen to think that boys are pretty gross don't you think?" you smile playfully, placing your hands on your hips.

"awwe come on! i'm not gross am i?" richie pretends to be offended and places his hand over his heart, making the little girls giggle.

"mm hmm, you sure are!"

you squeal when richie suddenly lifts you over his shoulder and walks towards the shore of lake like he's going to throw you in. john b decides that's enough and jogs over before richie can throw you in. 

"hey man, put her down…wouldn't want any accidents right? the nearest emergency room isn't for a few miles, and the camp hasn't got the best first aid." john b warns, squinting his eyes and tilting his head, almost like he's implying something else.

"we were just kiddin' around johnny!" richie laughs as he sets you down, your feet touching the sand again.  john b clenches his jaw at the nickname and nods like he understands.

"s'alright johnbee, got him just in time!" you smile, trying to relieve the tension between the clearly upset brunette and the cocky red head.

"alright girls! how about we go see if we can use the finger paints now?" you ask the group of little girls who nod and agree, two of the girls taking your hands and leading you back up the hill, leaving john b and richie there.

the next morning, the older kid group and their counselor decide to use the canoes for a morning activity. as they make it out onto the lake one of the kid's ores smacks against something causing all the kids to look at the water. the boy in the front then points to the object, yelling out a loud "HOLY SHIT!". there, floating face up, is richie's blue, dead body, with some froth present around his nostrils and mouth. 

you stand outside with the other counselors in pajamas after keeping all the kids away from the area and doing activities elsewhere. the paramedics take richie away in a body bag and your heart sinks, john b stands behind you, the warmth of his body and just the smell of him somehow calming you down a bit.

"what do you think could have happened to him?" you look up at john b with wide teary puppy eyes, worried he might have something to do with it since the…incident. 

"i dunno sweetheart, he must have gone out for a late night swim, probably accidentally drowned…" he wraps his arm around your front and you bring your hand up to place over his.

"let's hope we can get through the summer without the parents pulling their kids out," he whispers. 

"johnbee?"

"hmm?"

"you didn't- you know…" he just sighs and attempts to pull you back into his embrace, but you won't get any closer until he answers your question. when he only looks at you and doesn't say a word you start to walk away from him, and back to your cabin, confused and frustrated. but of course that doesn't go well with him, he won't tolerate you walking away from him like that, so he follows you and enters your cabin room behind you and shuts the door.

"lisetn to me, hey hey, look at me. i know you might still be a little scared of me but you don't need to be. okay?" he starts off gently, trying to level with you as calmly as he can be.

"ohkay…" you sigh and turn to look at him, you really don't want to have this conversation with him right now after being overwhelmed with so many things happening at once.

"i'd never do anything to hurt you, m'just trying to keep you safe that's all."

"i know…" you whisper

"good. that's why i do the things i do…i have a responsibility to watch out for these kids and when i think someone is dangerous then-"

"i don't want to hear you say it…" you interrupt him and shake your head with tears springing at your waterline. john b knows how you get when you feel conflicted or rather overwhelmed, he's seen it before when you get stressed while dealing with the kids.

"okay, alright…hey c'mere," he pulls you into a hug, his bulky body effectively enveloping you as you press your cheek to his chest.

"you really scared me that night-"

"didn't mean to bub, i promise not to do that again." he sighs, shaking his head though you can't see him.

"i really liked you."

"liked?"

"i- still do, s'just that-" you ramble.

"hey hey stop, breaaathe…breathe for me. let's do something okay? something to calm you down a little, y'gonna let me do that for you?" he soothes, bending down to meet your teary eyes. the minute you make eye contact with him you nod.

"words." he chides, needing to hear you confirm that you wanted it.

"yes, yes john b.." you whisper shyly.

"'m gonna take these off, aaand these pretty panties," he whispers gently, taking you through what he is currently doing. sliding down your little pink sleep shorts and white cotton panties, the fabrics pooling around your feet. john b then takes off his loose-fitted cropped sleep shirt and tosses it to the side, nodding his head over to your bed. he takes your hand and guides you over, taking a seat and lifting you up onto his meaty thigh.

"just gonna sit you on it and its gonna relax you alright?"

"its not gonna fit,"

"fit last time." he laughs through his nose and pulls himself out of his plaid pajama pants, you looked down at his dick, much bigger than you remembered and your cunt already began to clench around nothing. picking you up like nothing, you wrap your arms around his neck, john b impales your drippy wet cunt on his huge cock. the stretch making your eyes roll back momentarily and muffle you your cries on the skin between his shoulder and neck

"shshsh, its in, its in…" he coos, rubbing your back. "just turn your brain off bubba."

as soon as he can feel that you've relaxed and adjusted to his size he starts to move your hips back in forth with a gentle grip of his huge hands.

"i did kill riche, i had to do it to protect you baby…it's my job." you mewl at his confession and clench around his dick, earning a low groan out of him. he knew you wouldn't really register what he was telling you but at least he wouldn't feel guilty since he did just tell you the truth.

"jus' don't want you to hurt me," you whine.

"never, never…love you so much," he assures you, now using his strength to bounce you up and down slightly.

"don't gotta think about anything bub, just let me do all the work." he looks down and the bulge that presses against your lower stomach, making him hiss and squeeze the meat of your ass roughly.

"reall-really like you jombee…" you cry, tangling your fingers into the back of his hair, trying to keep yourself grounded as he bounces you on his fat cock.

"need to hear you say you love me, baby." he grunts, smacking your ass cheek harshly.

"love you, love you somuch, i really wanna cum please!" you squeal as he continues to use your sloppy wet pussy.

"i know bub, whenever you want, m'right there." john b stops bouncing you and lets you sink back down on him fully, then presses his thumb down hard on your clit. you mewl out pathetically as you cum and pulse all over him until he fills you up from just feeling you cum on him.

"fuck, so pretty, my pretty puppy." he smiles and presses a wet kiss to your cheek and wipes away the tears that happen to fall down your face.

"y'feel better now? hmm?"

"mm hmm…" still seated on him, leaking cum around the base of his dick, you hazily drop your cheek on his shoulder.

[cherrymoonflowers]

king!!!!queen!!!! in a sense!!!! me too!!!!!!!! -🌙

Chip new gender fluid icon?? POG????

uhh yeah maybe idk

[silkjade]

alhaitham x mermaid!reader (3)

⤀ warnings: fem!reader, no pronouns mentioned, reader has hair long enough to be pinned a/n: recommended to read the previous parts first, since this is a direct continuation next ﾉ series masterlist ﾉ bonus (18+) ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

When you first step foot into Sumeru City’s grand bazaar, you're immediately taken aback by the atmosphere. It's too loud, feels too stifling — a far cry from the vast and silent depths of the ocean, or the peaceful serenity of the forest. Even port ormos, had at least a lovely sea breeze. But you've come so far, it'd be a waste not to experience this lively city to its fullest.

“This necklace should only be worn by someone as beautiful as you!”

“Ditch those drab clothes and come see this new fabric from Liyue!”

“I guarantee these sunsettias are sweet like you!”

"Can I buy you a drink tonight?"

It's already a little dizzying to be so far inland, but the way all these humans vie for your attention, on top of the musicians and screaming children in the background… it’s a lot to take in so suddenly. Covering your ears helps a little, but not nearly enough to drown out the cacophony. You don’t even care to react when a strong arm wraps around your waist and leads you away.

Alhaitham guides you towards an isolated corner nearby, shooting a glare at any who dares look your way. He speaks to you in your native tongue; his pronunciation has become near flawless with your help.

“Are you alright?”

Both your head and your heart seem to settle a bit at the familiarity.

"It's a little much is all... just need some time to adjust."

To play it safe, Alhaitham removes his soundproof earpieces, placing them on you instead, and switches it on to the lowest setting. He's no fan of the noise either, but he's used to it; he'll be fine.

"Oh isn't this beautiful? And i'm sure it'll look even better on me!"

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. You're gushing over a hairpin while he stands beside you, arms full carrying assorted jewelry, trinkets large and small, a carpet, and a basketful of zaytum peaches. Mermaids and their vanity and their affinity for pretty things… at least you’re helping the local economy.

However, there’s currently only one issue and it isn’t the mora — it's the merchant who has him blacklisted.

"That'll be two million mora for the hairpin."

Now that he cannot justify. It's well crafted and beautifully embedded with crystal ore, but definitely not worth even half of what dori is asking for; only a fool would pay that price. Underhanded as it may be, he manages to swipe a similar hairpin that peaks out from under the large pile of accessories. Besides, all the times lord sangemah bay has overcharged him on information sales is far from a mere two million mora.

Dinner at Lambad’s is interrupted by a trio of colorfully clad men who seem to be on familiar terms with Alhaitham. You had always read him as more of a loner, and had seemed to be correct in your assumptions until now.

"I have some business to attend to, but I'll be back shortly. In the meantime, these are my... acquaintances. You can trust them."

“Would it kill you to call us your friends?” says the intimidating, purple one.

The blonde one laughs into oblivion when he sees Alhaitham leave with his arms full of your many purchases in tow.

…

“Ah, so you’re a diver. There’s a specific deep sea coral I’ve been dying to study, but it’s been impossible to get a sample. Would you be interested in working together? I'll be sure to compensate you well.”

You agree to Tighnari’s proposal; it would be no trouble as the dragon bone coral he speaks of is easy to find if you know where to look. Across the table, Cyno let's out a chuckle.

“You sea…,” a pause for dramatic effect, “you said ‘sure’ which can also be construed as ‘shore.’ As in, the land along the edge of the sea.”

Kaveh orders a round of firewater shots to drown out the pain of cyno’s terrible sense of humor. Unfortunately, alhaitham returns to find out you’re quite the lightweight.

…

He carries you on his back all the way home, listening to your drunken rambles along the way. You seemed to have had fun with his friends, but there’s a corner of his mind that can’t help but wonder if you now find him boring in comparison.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“Wanna know a secret?” you slur, giggling. “I enjoy the time I spend with you the most.”

With that said, you nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck and Alhaitham feels his face heat up all the way to the tips of ears. Mermaids are proud and rarely ever reveal their true feelings, so he counts himself lucky to have heard yours. Your soft breathing tickles his skin. He’s glad you’re asleep now, knowing that you would’ve teased him again otherwise.

Once home, Alhaitham sets you on the living room divan before leaving to prepare the bath. The aforementioned business he had to attend to, was purchasing salt. In bulk. He figured you’d need saltwater to rehydrate, as it’s been a few days since you’ve last been in any water. And a saltwater bath would surely be less of a hassle to deal with than a shriveled up mermaid.

The way your legs meld back into a tail is mesmerizing, especially with how your scales shimmer to life in the water. It quickly sobers you up. He’s about to leave but…

“Not even going to keep me company? I stayed with you all night at the cove you know.”

There it is. Alhaitham turns back around just in time to see the little grin on your face, as you rest your arms along the edge of the tub while your long tail hangs over the other end. He doesn’t know much of mermaid physiology but it’s enough to assume the saltwater, makeshift as it may be, has successfully sobered you up.

“I’m going to bed. You should get some sleep as well.”

“But I’m not tired.”

“I am. Goodnight.” And he leaves. Though eventually, he does return with a stack of books and papers.

“These are old studies I pulled from the Akademiya regarding the dark sea. Since you’ve got the energy, mind fact checking? Just be careful not to get them wet.”

He sets them down on a nearby stool before a splash of water hits him right in the face.

“How about with some compensation then?” he says, pulling out the hairpin he had swiped from dori.

It’s similar to the one you had previously fawned over, though it’s laid with nagadus emerald instead, which he thought suited you much better than plain crystal ore. Unbeknownst to him, you had liked the first because its cyan stones reminded you of those he would toss in the water upon arriving at the cove. However, you adore this one for the way the emerald gems seem to match the very one sitting on his chest. You think you’ll cherish it forever.

“Will you put it on for me?”

His touch is surprisingly gentle, careful not to accidentally tug too hard. Alhaitham’s seen Kaveh put up his hair enough times to replicate a simple style. Easier said than done as it turns out to be less than stellar, sitting slant and loose. At least he tried.

“Well? How does it look?”

Light reflects off the gems in your hair and into the water, casting an iridescent glow that bounces across the room, dancing onto your skin. Anyone could say that even the brightest of jewels dull in the face of your otherworldly beauty. Only he can say that in this moment, in his bathroom, you look more perfect than the moon shining through the window behind you.

“I think it’d look even more flattering if you were reading,” he glances down, “Enigmatic Depths: An Empirical Study of the Ocean and Beyond.”

Another splash of water hits his face.

next ﾉ bonus (18+)

a/n2: If you're already on the taglist, you'll be tagged for any future parts (just lmk if you'd like to be added/removed) ^^ I also kind of want to do an 18+ bonus part in the future, but no taglist for that since I don't want to jumpscare anyone lmao (unless you guys want one idk but have your age in bio pls) Anyways, thank you for reading ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[hermitscratch]

Joel & Etho - 21, for the writing ? :3

Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting

21. A kiss to shut them up, Joel/Etho, 957 words

[ Inspired in part by this lovely artwork by @plumadot ! ]

"So I've got a theory," Joel started.

It was a nice day; temperate in a way that heralded the approaching warm season. A lot of hermits were taking advantage of it to check the things off their to-do lists that weren't easily done in cold or wet weather. Etho had broken off from the others for just that purpose, but as soon as he mentioned needing coral, Joel invited himself along.

Which meant a return to form in the shape of them, once again, sharing a boat.

"Do I have to listen to your theory?" Etho asked. The answer didn't matter much when he was a captive audience, but their conversations up until this point had been general, casual nonsense. How they spent their morning, how they liked their steak cooked, what ore they'd most be willing to eat. Time killers at worst, amusement at best.

Joel scoffed. "Don't act like you don't want to know what I'm thinking," Etho felt an elbow land against his ribs without any real force. It might have been rougher, if they weren't currently faced away from each other. Joel liked watching the wake the boat left behind, so they were pressed back-to-back. "It's about your obsession."

"My obsession? Don't you mean yours?" He retorted. Joel snorted, and Etho could imagine the smug grin that'd be accompanying it.

"This projection is getting embarrassing, Etho," Joel said with thinly veiled glee.

Etho rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Just tell me about your theory," He said through a chuckle.

From behind him, Joel wiggled like he was trying to look over his shoulder. The boat rocked hard to the left, and Joel stilled before crowing, "I knew you wanted to know!"

Etho stopped rowing to peer over the boat's edge. The ocean here was deep, illuminated only faintly by magma pockets and the occasional rogue glow squid. They'd made a lot of headway, but there was still a ways to go to reach an untouched reef. "I wonder if I could swim back to shore from here..."

"I'll push you overboard myself if you don't let me get a blummin' word out," Joel griped, even as he fisted a hand in the back of Etho's shirt. It wouldn't do much if Etho decided to move, but the idea that Joel might want him to stay was more than enough for Etho to do so.

Not that Etho would ever tell him that; his ex-soulmate's ego was big enough.

"You're the one stopping, though?" Etho answered, rebalancing the boat and adjusting the oars to continue rowing. Joel's inhale was audible, and before he could argue, Etho urged, "Let's hear your theory."

Joel crossed his arms with a huff. Etho grinned. Joel was probably pouting and everything. "D'you remember what Gem said this morning?"

"Hmm," Etho had to think the question through. They'd been hanging out with Gem, Impulse, and Scar that morning, a lot of things were said. "Mmmmaybe?"

After a few minutes of fruitless sifting through snippets of conversation that Joel might have found noteworthy, he threw Etho a bone. "When we were arguing about who built a better cherry tree, still me by the way, she said-"

Ah. "'Just kiss already', or something?" Etho offered.

Joel clapped once, "Exactly."

Etho laughed, pitching his voice up in a mockery of Joel's, "Oh no, I'm not obsessed, I'm just chasing him making smoochy sounds and thinking a lot about Gem telling us to kiss-"

"That first thing was literally your fault!" Joel argued, "And I'm not thinking about it, alright? There's nothing to think about, it's just a thing that is!"

"What is?"

Joel seemed to shrink, curling forward so their backs were no longer touching. "If we kissed, the world would sorta collapse, wouldn't it?"

Etho stopped so abruptly that he almost dropped an oar. What? "Uh. No?"

"Of course you'd say so, it's stupid how bad you wanna kiss me," Joel scoffed. The turn in conversation was so jarring that Etho didn't even argue the point about wanting to kiss Joel. "But the stir it'd cause would be massive. Gem would explode. Bdubs would probably explode, maybe Grian? Scar and Skizz, definitely, we'd never hear the end of it."

Etho locked the oars and turned around in his seat. If Joel noticed, he gave no indication, plowing relentlessly forward as if he'd realized there was no going back now that he'd started. Etho recognized that habit from their time together in Double Life- an anxious Joel with no other outlet would ramble himself breathless.

"Your mask as well," Joel continued, "Nobody's seen you without it-"

Etho tugged his mask down.

"-that's probably grounds for server obliteration in itself-"

He put a hand on Joel's shoulder.

"-if the first time anybody saw your face was for a kiss like that, then-"

He turned Joel to face him.

And before Joel could say another word, Etho kissed him.

Silence. Bliss. Etho's lips were dry from the mask, and he kept the press of them soft until he felt Joel's stiff body melt, meeting Etho's lean halfway. He tilted his head, and he could feel the flutter of long lashes against his face as Joel's eyes shut. The world kept turning, and Etho let it, stealing a moment just for them.

It only ended when Etho pulled away, leaving a dazed Joel to process what had just happened. Etho didn't bother putting his mask back up when he grinned. "Still alive?"

"Wh- y-?" Joel floundered. Etho chuckled, and Joel scowled, even as a dusty blush painted his cheeks pink. Even as he turned to face Etho properly, dropping his head against Etho's shoulder. Even as Etho felt lips against his racing pulse.

"Oh, shut up, Etho."

[cm-lily]

I read a fanfic once, I forgot which one. But in that fic, they have this idea where Gem and Grian's base has this... Foggy vibe to it. Like compare it to the cherry mountain that's all pink and petals and then you have these two bases which are straight up The Horrors™

I Just love that idea

So much I've been thinking, what if the whole Magic Mountain is surrounded by fog? A magic fog and mist that just always surround the area and got thicker as the sun set further. The area always seems cloudy. As if there is an eternal cloud forever covering the mountains. It's either raining, or storm, or cloudy. The only time it's clear is when Grian finally got his mending book, the pink snail arrive, and it switch to storm when Scar got the mending book. (He got struck by lightning a few time if he reaches that area)

Joel's base not only has lantern illuminating it, but souls as well. They didn't stay idle, but never went too far. Some of them even transform, Into tanuki or fox or wolves and even Koi fish and Axolotl. That fly in the air instead of water, obviously.

Sometimes there's things passing by on Impulse's build. Something tall and slender, with long limbs and sharp claws. They're not Enderman, Enderman don't crawl. Impulse said they're cool if you pretend they didn't exist and just let them... Lurks around.

Something is wrong with Mumbo's base. I want to call it decaying, but it's not. It's more like redstone veins appear around the blackened grass, the air smells like gunpowder and something acid. Or maybe copper.

Many hermits had reported seeing the sight of a statue angel that just appear on top of Skizz's unfinished Pyramid. It appear when they're looking at it, but then they look around and it's gone. The statue has never been in the same position everytime someone look at it.

Most people don't like going to Scar's base at night, not only because of how creepy it look like surrounded by those fog. Like the rest of them, something strange always happens. Like animals looking bigger and more beast-like the moment night arrive, ever seen a cow just grows multiple horns and it sounds like those horn are breaking out of it's skull? Or that one time, one time his horse stand up on two feet? Probably not. Scar said they're harmless. Except for the snail—he said. The snail isn't his. That's why they damaged his build and become a nuisance.

(There was once a time, a time where clouds whirled around his ore pillar, clouds that are made of limbs and hand and eyes and it just stretched and climb down from the pillar. It never reach the ground, fortunately.)

Grian never stopped fishing. Even if it rains or stormed outside. He's smelly and that's why snails like him and his horse don't. Totally not because Pluto saw him turn into giant mer-man with many eyes and tails and sharp tooth. Definitely not. Don't feel weird when you feel like you're being watched. Or because shadow-like silhouette wander around his wheat farm, or a silhouette of something massive that was illuminated everytime lightning strikes, looking down from the cherry mountain toward his and Gem's base and, occasionally, you felt like you found a body you recognize in the water—

And that's where Gem comes in! Gem is someone who stopped you before you decide to jump in the water and check who's that corpse is. And the one who shooed off the many eyes that lurk in the muddy river side of Grian's base. Grian hates her for that but there's nothing he can do. Gem, like Grian, is someone who can walk in the middle of the storm unharmed. Most of the time, she make sure that none of the hermits fell into the trick of her other neighbors.

just don't let that distract you from the fact one of her build is actually sentient and breathing and is always staring at you. Or the fact there's blood around the rocky shores if you squint into the dark river/soon-to-be-ocean. Or the fact that, just like the angler, the skull always felt like it's watching even if there's no actually eyes in it's socket. Gem is always present when you want to have a tour or just so happened to passed that area, but... If she's not there to guide you, would it even be worth it to be stabbed with a trident and got dragged into the water?

[sesshous]

pers: the ultimate wing“man” [freminet x reader]

summary: freminet makes a new friend (you!)

genre: fluff (gn)

a/n: reader isn’t from fontaine, also takes place after 4.2 archon quests (no direct spoilers to anything though),  this fic kicked my ass i started writing this on the NINTH. but i really wanted to get it done because i adore him ♡ (can also be read as platonic despite the title!)

when most people think of the self-proclaimed greatest magician in all of teyvat, lyney, they also thought of his magic assistant, lynette. when most people think of the magic assistant, lynette, they also thought of the once again self-proclaimed greatest magician in all of teyvat, lyney. when most people thought of freminet, they also thought of… diving? he was the most talented diver in all of fontaine, so it was no surprise that it was anyone’s first thought to connect him with the “only thing” he was actually good at (his words, not anyone else's). and for someone who spends more time underwater than on land and is probably in his own shell more than those armoured crabs you’ll find on the shore, it’s unlikely for him to be associated with other people.

there was one individual that some people didn’t consider..

pers.

how could they not think of him? okay, well pers wasn’t a human, but he was freminet’s most trustworthy companion! he practically brought him everywhere, including to his latest diving session. 

half an hour earlier, freminet had accidentally bumped into estelle, who had signalled him over and told him about how her ore supplier didn’t give her enough beryl conches for a project she was working on and requested him to get her some. originally, he had planned on going home since it was so late into the evening, but then he remembered talking with lyney and lynette about ‘wanting to socialise more’. he already finds it difficult to be around estelle with how much she talks, but he thinks that maybe this could be some kind of first step to becoming more comfortable with her. after agreeing to help her out, he set off to fontaine’s shoreline.

freminet was quick with gathering the beryl conches. after he collected enough, he went back to the surface to sort them out, examining them to make sure that they were in good condition. he did have to admit, diving while it was nearing night was pretty relaxing. it was just him, pers and the sea…

which is why he was now suddenly confused when he heard a sudden laugh. there shouldn’t have been nobody else around with how late it was. did he imagine it? he turned around to see where the laugh was coming from, he saw a figure crouched down with.. pers?

pers must have waddled off while he was so focused on the beryl conches... he swears his attention was only off him for a few seconds! freminet’s mind was at a blank here, but even he knows how rude it would look if he just walked up, snatched pers, came up with some excuse to leave and left, but he didn’t know who this person was- he was just concerned for pers safety! but while he was watching, he saw stranger pat pers lightly on the head and boop his beak with their finger, with the penguin flapping his mechanical wings in response. well, they seemed pretty gentle with how they interacted with pers. and he did remember talking to lyney and lynette about wanting to socialise more (that's why he was out diving so late after all), but normally they were both there with him to help guide him through conversations with people he didn’t know… but maybe this time, he could take this chance to try by himself?

quickly putting away the conches in his bag, he stood up, took a deep breath and nervously walked over to where they both were.

“um…” still anxious, he kept his gaze focused in on pers, however from the corner of his eye, he could see the stranger look up at him, with a smile.

“oh, hello! is this lil guy yours?”

“um,” clearing his throat, “hi. yes- yes, well he’s my friend…”

“really? what’s his name?” you moved you head a above pers in order to view his face, making direct eye contact with him. freminet felt his face heat up, quickly looking away.

“oh, it’s pers...”

“pers? that’s cute! i think it suits him.” moving back to your original position and taking pers’ flippers in your hands to lift them up and down slightly.

“thank you…” he glanced back over at you both (at pers, specifically), and stood silently as he watched the two of you play. 

“what were you doing out here?” you questioned.

“i was just diving for beryl conches…” he mumbled.

“beryl conches?!” you perk up. freminet flinched back a bit. he wasn’t expecting that much excitement for beryl conches of all things. “i saw them in the book i was reading about fontaine’s local specialties! they look pretty, i wanted to get one for myself, but i’ve never dived before…”

“oh… there’s someone who sells them in poisson… in the belleau region.”

“but it would be more special if i got one myself, you know?” freminet tilted his head and slightly nodded.

“yeah, i understand what you mean…” he murmured, silence following through. all he could hear now was the gentle tides against the shore and the squawking of some angler gulls. is this silence awkward for you? he feels like he needs to say something to keep the conversation going. you read a book about fontaine’s local specialties? you must be new to fontaine, did you move here? or are you just travelling- no, that’s definitely too personal... how about your favourite colour? or food? but those are boring, are they not? he could also ask you what you were doing out by the shore so late, but is asking the same question back okay? oh wait! your name-

“you mentioned that you were diving, right?” your voice snapped him back to reality, with you now standing up in front of him, holding out your hands with pers in them for him to take. “have you ever taught anyone how to dive?”

“i was diving, yes. and no, never. i don’t really think i would be the best teacher.” he looked down at your hands, reaching out and taking pers from them, face slightly blushing at your fingers making contact. it’s probably not too noticeable (he hopes). but now, he can ask for your name-

“how will you know if you never try?” you asked.

“well- well i guess you’re right, but i don’t know who would want me to-”

“wait, you can teach me! can be your first student?” your eyes lit up.

“i don’t… i don’t think… i…” he’s stuttering now. great, he made a fool of himself! (he didn’t)

“it’s okay if not!” you reassure him, putting up your hands. “i don’t want to pressure you or anything!” freminet shakes his head.

“oh, no- no, um maybe if i don’t have a lot of assignments tomorrow, i could show you the basics?” he clutches pers tighter to his chest.

“really? great!” you clap your hands lightly, “if you’re done collecting beryl couches, want to walk back together with me to the court of fontaine?”

“yes, i’ve finished. and sure, i don’t see why not…” okay! this time he’s really going to ask-

“that sounds awesome- wait!” you put out your hand to stop him. did he do something wrong?  “i forgot to ask you what your name is! i’m sorry!” laughing awkwardly, following up with your name. ah, you also forgot to ask, and your acting this nice towards him without knowing his name? …that puts him a little at ease.

“no worries, it’s freminet.” even he couldn’t help but give a small smile.

“freminet… i like it! you have a really pretty name.” okay his blush was most definitely noticeable now. 

“ah, thank you...” freminet grip on pers lessens.

“alright, let’s go. i’ll let you lead the way!” 

freminet thinks on the walk back, it should be a good time to ask you those questions he thought of earlier. and for once, he really hopes he doesn’t have a lot of diving requests tomorrow.

“wait, i never got the chance to ask you what you were doing out so late”

“i was exploring around fontaine!… and then i got lost exploring around fontaine… but i guess it’s good that i got lost since i got to meet you and pers, right?’

“...yeah, right.”

[alexanderwales]

My wife's grandmother lives in Fargo, North Dakota, so she visits there roughly twice a year. I go every other time, because I hate the four hour drive, which has almost nothing on offer, and because I find Fargo-Moorhead to be particularly lacking in culture and substance.

I've been all over the Midwest. I grew up in Ohio until we moved to Minnesota. I have family in Sioux Falls and St. Louis, and spent many Christmases with my now-deceased grandparents in Kansas.

There's a way that the cities spread themselves out, like a block of jello that's lost its shape on a hot day, spreading out as far as they can possibly go, with a huge parking lot for every business, and no green spaces between them. When you're away from the "cities" you're in flat, monotonous farmland, where they seem to grow the same two crops, corn and soybeans, for hundreds of miles in every direction. The highways are filled with signage that makes the drives far worse, mostly billboards, which I've always hated.

Driving through Fargo or Sioux Falls makes my skin crawl. Everything is so far from everything else, and I always think about how dependent I am on the car. Even a bike wouldn't help much, because there's so much traffic and it seems so hostile to bikers.

And yes, I do live in the Midwest, but I'm in Duluth, the Zenith City of the Unsalted Sea, perched on the tip of the largest lake in the world, with ore ships coming in and cold winds coming off the waters, a city built on a hill with parks running through it, minutes away from the North Shore, with biking paths and some semblance of a downtown, actual geological features and plant life and all kinds of things that make it a place that I enjoy being.

I think this trip has been a grim reminder of how unsuited I am for life in some of these other places, and I'm finding myself very eager to get home, even moreso than usual when I go on a trip.

[bitchgray]

I Dream Of You

You've met a wonderful man...now you just need the help of a certain dealmaker to keep him. And luckily, he knows just what he might want from you.

Word Count: 7K

Dividers both by cafekitsune.

Tags: afab but gn!reader (reader's described as having breasts and wearing a two-piece swimsuit, and is mentioned as being able to carry children), established relationship, roleplay (Azul pretends to be a manipulative asshole for fun, sport, and sexual gratification on both your parts), dubcon (as part of the aforementioned scene), tentacles (so many fuckin tentacles he's an octomer what do you expect), I take liberties with guessing mer anatomy, oral (sort of? He sticks his fingers and one of the aforementioned tentacles in your mouth), breeding kink, praise, petnames (pretty thing, darling, pearl), creampie

Author's Note: I'd call this Kinktober but I don't think I'll write more, so I'm just uhhh....stuffing as many kinks as I can into this and calling it a day.

You wished the sound of the waves were soothing to you. The feeling of the cool water lapping at your feet, the salt in the air, the heat of the sun on your skin. You wished any of it could be soothing to you.

As of this moment, though, more than anything, they were reminders. Forcing you to keep your resolve or be left on your own. And that, more than anything…you knew you couldn’t manage.

The potion you held in a stoppered glass vial would work marvelously, you had no doubts for that, all that would be left…is to simply drink it.

All you could do was take a slow breath of the stinging, salty air, and muster what little courage you could have.

With hands that were steadier than the way you felt, you undid the stopper of the bottle and knocked back the potion—it felt ice-cold on your tongue, making you cough when you finally swallowed all of it.

You looked briefly back at the abandoned, rocky shore, doubts swirling in your mind.

And you took slow, measured steps into the waves, letting the water consume you.

You knew how to find where you needed to go. Beneath the waves you were able to breathe just as easily as you could above, and your body was resistant to the pressure, your eyes were adapting faster to the light dimming from the surface. Even the cold wasn’t clinging as easily, your body adapting to more and more as you slowly walked your way to the cave where you knew you’d be able to get what you wanted.

“Hello?” An odd thing, the way your voice reverberated underwater, but your newly-sharpened gaze caught on to a flutter of movement deeper into the cave. Your brow furrowed—you knew you had the right place, so was it as simple as no one being here at the moment?

You hesitated at the entrance once more, but wandered in all the same.

You came to the conclusion by the sight of the space someone else clearly lived here—or at least it wasn’t uninhabited for very long at a given time. Small collections of bottles, tinctures sat in clear view on a table. A large tome, some glimmering collection of metal ores and precious stones sat in clear view.

Your curiosity was rather good at getting the better of you—you didn’t notice the way a shadow from the deeper part of the cavern reached out behind you, many-limbed and wanting.

You shrieked in surprise as it did, as suddenly you were yanked back from the table, from the light, into the entryway into a deeper part of the cave, and a hand sealed itself over your mouth, muffling your surprised, frightened struggle against the arm that held you tight against a bare chest, that pinned your arms to you with surprising strength.

“Shhh little human.”

The voice was lilting, warm, even, as it tried to soothe you—as warm as his touch and the appendages that you knew even in the dark to be tentacles from how they felt, weaving around you in cautious but eager motions, suckers fluttering over the soft of your skin.

You squeaked behind his hand as one of those tentacles suddenly wormed its way up your inner thigh, and you squeezed your legs shut, trapping it in place, your heart pounding in a way that decidedly didn’t get soothed any by his laughter, by the way his tentacles now worked with a stronger want to feel every inch of your skin in a way that made you squirm, only at first in resistance.

“What’s such a pretty thing like you coming wandering into my home?” he hummed, idly, as though he’d forgotten that you can’t answer him with his hand over your mouth, leaving you to fight back a smile as his tentacles hit sensitive flesh, and fighting further to stifle your laughter and failing. “Are you h—” he paused, suddenly, his seductive question cut short and you knew you’d been caught, your grin beneath his hand growing as he freed your mouth. You were still trying to restrain yourself when he asked, incensed, “Are you laughing?”

“You’re the one tickling me!” you accused, giggling while you spoke—and as another one of his tentacles curled covetously over your collarbone to tease at the the tie of your swim top, you jolted. Another peal of laughter graced him from you while he shook his head, all amusement.

“You really are just the most sensitive creature alive,” he hummed, willing his body to pause in its exploration of you, but pressing affectionate kisses to your throat, your jaw, your cheek.

“You can’t judge me for it, Azul,” you played up the way you were whining, wriggling in his grasp, pouting. “I’m helpless, can’t you tell? It’s unfair.”

“Oh so now you want to play your role,” he hummed, a soft huff of laughter on his breath. “And you were the one saying you had difficulty getting immersed.” His faux petulance pulled another little stream of giggles, leading you to nuzzle a little more towards him, which he couldn’t help but smile at, pecking your lips before he asked, “Done being ticklish?”

“Only if you’re done tickling me,” you replied, and his hand slid back up to your cheek, turning you to look towards him, to let him run his thumb over your lips.

It felt strange, to see the way his expression morphed, trying to play into the role of the one who takes from others, the one who gets what he craves, hiding under myriad disguises his role as one who simmers in his wants when it comes to you.

“Such a sweet little thing, mm? Do all humans wander as much as you do?”

“I—I was curious.” It was funny—suddenly you did feel rather small. Something in his words, his tone, the way he was curled up all around you, touching you, clinging to you, covering as much as he could—it was a novel experience, feeling small, but it wasn’t a bad one by far, at least not with him.

Still, though, his displeasure, written plain on his face, made your heart twist—your excuse wasn’t good enough, clearly.

“And your curiosity lead you to intrude on my home.”

“I—I didn’t—”

“Surely you don’t believe me to be so stupid, do you?” he hummed, arching an eyebrow. “You’re not the first human to come here for one.”

“F-for—”

“A deal.”

All his tentacles pulsed around you at the word, drawing a gasp as they began moving again, some of the larger suckers now beginning to catch onto your skin as they held you still.

You drew in a sharp breath, feeling them begin to work marks onto you, flushing as you suddenly feel very much like prey in his grasp.

And for a moment, you stood just like that, trying to restrain the way you shivered at the movement of his tentacles, the intensity of his pretty blue gaze, the movement of his thumb over your lips, tried so very hard to settle back into the role you were playing, hold back on your want to kiss him. Only for him to suddenly pull away, releasing you from his grasp, save for one, solitary tentacle winding up your forearm. With a firm insistence, he dragged you through the water, further into the darkness of his home. Eventually, he stopped, your eyes adjusting enough to the lack of light to see that he had settled himself onto a worn-away hollow of rock, one that looked almost like a throne when he settled onto it. He pulled you over another couple steps, to allow you to settle onto another, smaller stone seat.

All the while, that tentacle remained curved on your arm like a shackle, trapping you before him as king when he asked, “You came here for a reason. I’m not so cruel as to turn you out for simply surprising me. So tell me what you want, and perhaps I can help you.”

Your heart pounded. It wasn’t a request, you knew that from the way the tentacle was wound around you. You were trapped by this point. Your gaze turned back to the light drifting lazily from the rest of the world in the main cavern, but you were anchored in your seat in the dark with him.

He could feel your pulse from where it was wrapped around your wrist, you knew it from how the sucker was fluttering over it, this close to trying to worry another mark onto your skin. He was smirking at you, waiting for you.

“There’s…there’s a man on the surface.” Your eyes flicked over to find him staring back at you, amusement written all over his face, an eyebrow arched, “He’s wonderful, and everything I could ever hope to love, but I know he doesn’t…I know he doesn’t see me. Not—not like that at least. I made a mistake in how I approached him at first and it—it colored everything wrong. I—I was hoping you would be able to help me get him to—to look at me.”

He hummed, tilting his head, considering you, your story—you could feel the way his gaze landed on you, making you squirm well before you met his eye. “You’ve exhausted every other option before coming to me, I assume?”

“I tried.”

“Well, he sounds like a waste of a man if he can’t—”

“No!” Your vehemence surprised him, but you stuck to it, looking down at your hands, “He’s—he’s smart, and he’s beautiful, and he’s so passionate about so much it makes me smile just to think of him, it…” You trail off, softening your voice, warming it when you meet his eye to murmur, “He means everything to me.”

It has the result you wanted. Even in the dim light, you could watch the splash of color paint his cheeks when he suddenly pieced together that you were talking about him. The slip doesn’t last, though it does make you have to stifle a giggle when he cleared his throat before saying, “Regardless, if the fool can’t even look at such a prize as you and see you, well. Is he even worth the trouble?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I had my doubts,” you answered, easily, and he hummed.

“Very well, then. I suppose if you’re so certain, then there needn’t be any hesitation on my part, either. So—in terms of payment for services to be rendered—”

“I have—”

He raised a hand, cutting you off. “I have no interest in any valuables—and I’m certain you could ascertain by now that I have no interest in surface dweller’s money. What I’m interested in is a service of your own.”

The confusion that fluttered over your expression seemed to please him. “What…service?” If it was something to be done down here, surely he has any number of merfolk as customers—did he need something from the surface?

The question brought a smile to his face, languid, relaxed, and a few more of his tentacles, eager in their intentions, began seeking where you sat, curling idly at your ankles, up your shins. “You see, I’ve always had some rather specific curiosities regarding humans, curiosities I believe you can provide an answer for.”

“You want…information?” The trade confused you, it seemed like such a light cost.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” The answer would have come as far less confusing were it not for the way his touch squeezed at your limbs, covetously. “But what better way to learn than hands-on? What better way to satisfy one’s wants than to simply…touch?”

Your face dropped in realization. “Y-you mean…”

“In exchange for the adoration of your beloved on the surface, tonight, you’ll offer your body to me until I am entirely satisfied,” he murmured, his lips quirked as his eyes dragged over you. “In both my curiosity and in my…other wants.”

“Oth—oh.” You knew you were flushed at the implication, and he was grinning, playing his wicked role eagerly.

“Such a small price to pay, surely? After all, I have every intention of ensuring you enjoy it, too. And your lover, he would never have to know.”

You paused, trying to wrack your brain for anything else you could do, but he had laid his terms out plainly—if you wanted his help, he wouldn’t accept anything other than this, and you had no room to bargain.

In a flourish, he produced a piece of parchment and a pen for you. On it, written in a practiced hand, were the terms of your agreement, laid out plainly, in the same wording as before.

(You spotted the slight shake in his handwriting in an instant—he must have drafted this well before you’d come here for this, had he been excited at the time? As excited as you felt right now, having to stifle your smile?)

All you needed to do was sign…

But you paused before pen hit paper, and he sighed—you knew in an instant that he spotted your indecision. “It seems you’re hesitant after all.” Before you could blink, the contract was back in his possession, well out of reach as he wandered away towards some alcove deeper in his home. “I suppose you’ll simply have to wait for your clueless lover to finally piece his wits together—if he even does that. Such a shame.”

“W-wait!”

He paused, eyes tracing languidly back over towards you, over his shoulder, eyebrows raised gracefully. You clenched your jaw—he knew he had you, hook, line, and sinker.

Still—you didn’t have another choice.

“You’ll—you’ll listen to me if I tell you to stop?”

His eyes softened, no small shimmer of mercy from the one who just moments prior negotiated the price of your body. “Of course. I promise.” The words held weight, coming from him.

“And—you won’t hurt me?”

“I have no interest in hurting you. Quite the opposite.”

“…Give me the pen.”

And he was back in an instant by your side, contract detailing your deal opened to show its entirety. With one arm around you, he offered a pen, the other the paper.

Your eyes flitted over the words on the page once more as you slowly lifted the pen, and you, finding it to your satisfaction, signed your name.

And his smile only grew. “Thank you for your patronage.” As the contract was stolen away by one of his tentacles, the pen by the other, he took your hand in his to press his lips to your skin, leaving you shivering as he trailed his lips up. Only when he reached your shoulder did he murmur, “I believe I’ll be taking my payment now.”

He was on you in an instant again, a mirror to how he pulled you tight against him when he first saw you wandering about his home aimlessly, only this time, his hand had decided to busy itself to pulling at your clothes, untying things in a rush, all pretenses gone in favor of hunger in his touch. His tentacles were no less wanting, pulling at you, leaving more red marks up your legs and over your stomach as your shorts were shucked down and top untied and unwound from your body by his wanting hands, leaving you dizzy in the sudden way you were laid bare for him.

“Wait—,” your words choked in sensitivity as a tentacle traced over your collarbone, but to his credit, it took little more than that and a moment to process for him to pause, to give you the second it took you to draw in a shaky breath, look away and murmur, “P-please be gentle?”

He blinked, surprised by the request, but his scheming belied something warmer when he murmured, “As gentle as you like, pretty thing.” His hand caressed your cheek gently, guiding you to look back towards him—letting his lips meet yours.

His words and his actions felt separated, the way he kissed you every inch of that hunger that his stilled limbs no longer betrayed—you almost wanted to laugh, the role all but abandoned in favor of finally having what he wanted. You would have laughed were you not responding just as eagerly.

When finally he pulled away, your eyes fluttered as you leaned closer to him, leaned in for more, only to gasp when one of his tentacles made sudden, unapologetic contact with your inner thigh again. Only this time, the way your legs were already trapped made it impossible for you to shut them against the touch, only shiver as he trailed teasingly closer to his prize. His arm around you, trapping your arms tight against your body, left you helpless despite your struggling against him.

He could feel how your pulse raced when he pressed his lips to the skin of your throat, feel the way your head tilted to give him more access to trail kisses, to nip when his tentacle finally made contact with you, gliding smoothly up and down your heated core.

Your lips pressed tight together, muffling your whimper at your throat.

His response was immediate—his teeth sinking into your shoulder in warning, releasing that noise. He kissed the injury softly when his teeth released you, leaving you shivering in his hold, trying to press your hips closer to his touch. It was clear that he just wanted you to showcase every sound you make, to refuse to hide from him—just what he liked.

In spite of your own inability to do so without embarrassment melting you far too quickly into someone who wants to, needs to hide.

But the issue was, of course, that he offered you no way to hide. You were trapped, exposed for him—you were the focus of every one of his senses in the hopes of teasing you to the point of getting you shaking for him, exactly how you were.

So all your best intentions to mute the sounds of your enjoyment to him while he was focused on tormenting you were laid to waste the moment he made contact with your clit, leading you to gasp—and leading him to react, far too quick for you to counter in any way before two of his fingers were in your mouth, keeping it, keeping you open for him.

You whined at the sudden exposure, the realization you wouldn’t be able to hide half as easily anymore, and he, the picture of affection despite the debauched nature of what he was doing to you, pressed myriad kisses to your hair, your burning cheeks, your throat, while his tentacle kept swirling around your clit. The slow, measured pace which at first felt like too much on the little bud, slowly became too little—not nearly enough for you to be pushed anything closer to what you already felt yourself aching for.

You ran your tongue over his fingers, dipping between them for a tease, and you felt him shudder, the suckers that were on your body fluttering with the motion, before some few began to start focusing on leaving their marks.

You were going to have constellations of his touch left behind when he was done with you, stars for him to plot with only slightly apologetic kisses afterwards. But you couldn’t even care—not yet, at least. No, for the moment, you were too busy trying to aid that slippery tentacle over your clit, increase its lazy, idle pace. Another of his tentacles wound up your body, curling over one of your breasts to squeeze at you, playing with your nipple—you tried to arch more into his touch and his arm around your waist suddenly tightened, pinning you right back against him.

You whined pathetically against his fingers, and he couldn’t help but coo his sympathies in response, “Poor thing, is even this too much for you?” knowing full well the way you would wriggle, struggling to try and free your mouth enough to say every needy thing you were thinking, begging for.

It’s not enough. Please, more.

But his fingers stayed stubbornly rooted in your mouth, playing in the slick of your saliva, pinning your tongue into place much the same way he had pinned the rest of your body into place against him. Frustrating as he was, as his chuckles were, his touch was laden with affection, pressing kisses to your cheeks, your ear, your throat, his suckers dotting hungrily over your skin. Denying you any answer that might prompt him to pity, to offering you relief.

You knew you were shaking when one of his tentacles finally reached up to your core to start playing in your slick—you knew that you were wriggling your hips towards his touch, in spite of the way his strength pinned you back to him. You couldn’t help the soft, pleading noises leaving you, couldn’t help the way you struggled against his grip for more, couldn’t help listening to your body’s desperation.

You sucked in a breath when the tip of his tentacle dipped into you, freezing, hoping to coax him further into you.

Whether it was pity or him giving into temptation, he eased his way into you slowly, squeezing his way in through your slick, finally filling you.

All at once, the physical relief of simply that struck, feeling the way his tentacle moved inside you to better hit your sensitive spots, and you went lax, the way you writhed before reduced to placid shivering against him—a fact which left him pleased, if the way his lips curled at your shoulder was any indication.

“Yes…such a sweet thing,” he practically purred as you let him have his way, his steady pace over your clit, the new sensation of his tentacle lazily curling inside you, widening you, stroking incessantly over the sensitive spot inside you.

You whimpered and he hummed, softly, curling his limbs further around you, squeezing you like a breath, layering suckers over your nipples to taste your skin, and leaving you completely and utterly aware of but one thing—him. His touch, his voice, his teasing, him filling you up, playing with your clit in a way that shot sparks of pleasure up your spine.

You wanted to call his name, you wanted to kiss him.

You wished you could beg for him, but all you could do was lean into his lips when they touched your cheek, pouting, trying to catch his eye to plead for more..

Slowly, as he moved in and out of you, as he laved his touch over your clit, you could feel tension beginning to return to your body, winding you tighter and hotter, a coil in your belly you couldn’t ignore.

Couldn’t ignore, certainly, but couldn’t do much anything about, with how firmly he was holding you still.

You settled for whining against his fingers again, trying to writhe as he held you tighter, trying to moan, “More,” around his fingers, squeezing around the tentacle inside you.

And that he seemed to enjoy, you squeezing around him spurring new movement, a shaky noise against your skin as a moment of tension seemed to squeeze through him, too—betraying the simple fact that he was far more affected than his controlled motions seemed to suggest.

Still, though, you were beholden to his pace—beholden to the way he wanted to stretch every motion, every moment out. You were his, after all, were you not? His to play with, now that your name sat on that contract, promising him your body to explore, to tease, to fuck until satisfied.

You would have your pleasure. But this was about his enjoyment of it far more than your own experience.

And he was so enjoying your desperate, indistinct pleads.

Enjoying himself enough that before too long, you felt something new suddenly touching your skin, slapping hot and slick against your back with a low, pleased hum from Azul. His cock had finally worked itself free from his sheath, and was free to writhe against your lower back for some friction he sought out, too, subconsciously, his hips working to try and provide it.

The feeling made you shudder and clench around him, your eyes squeezing shut to block from your sight the vision of his smugness, his teasing.

“I suppose this is your first…encounter of this variety with my kind?” He didn’t wait for you to respond before continuing, “Cum for me, pretty thing, and you’ll get to have every inch of me, just like you want, mm?”

And like that his pace increased, over your clit, pistoning into you, pushing right up against your sweet spot.

You had no choice but to scream, to wail around his fingers’ best attempts to muffle you, though even those best attempts were withdrawn, letting you try and fail to muffle yourself.

He didn’t let you thrash too much against him, strong enough, content enough to pin you to him and hush you, soothingly. He enjoyed it, you knew, when you whined, when you tried to break free of his strength, when your head lolled to the side to let his lips take their fill of your skin.

He enjoyed the sounds you made all the more when he didn’t pull away after your orgasm settled and every touch became pleasure bordering on pain.

“A—ah—Azul it’s too much!”

The slight slip of your role in your desperation to be able to breathe again under the building wave of pleasure you were drowning in wasn’t met with acknowledgement, he was too busy grinning at the way you struggled against him, kissing at the tears that gathered, hot and sweet on your lashes.

You sobbed in your relief when he finally eased up, that tension disappearing, melting you against him as you shuddered through the remaining aftershocks.

Softly, you recognized the way he murmured, “So good,” against your skin.

For a time, this was all—simply him holding you, floating idly through the water as your head lolled back onto his shoulder, your eyes trying to flutter open.

His cock wriggling at your back, hungry for your attention.

“Azul.” Your whine of his name couldn’t keep him from humming out a soft laugh as he broke character, shifted his arm around you to let you lift your hand to card through his hair. It was calming to you, and a brief reminder, amid the broken character of just how easily he bent to your whims in the most adorable way.

You tugged him closer to nuzzle against his cheek, and he relished it, leaning into your affections like an anemone tugged by the force of the waves, rushing into your pull without thought or question.

At least, for a time, before he pressed a kiss to your forehead, and extricated your errant hand from his hair, pressing a kiss to your wrist before wrapping you back up in him.

“You’ve been so good for me,” he hummed, his eyes lidded, his grin regaining a touch of an edge, like a knife, like a promise. “You’ll have me, now.”

He shifted, repositioning you with his strength a little further up, giving his cock room to slip beneath you, wriggling eagerly against the sensitive skin of your heat. You flinched, and his lips were on your temple in an instant to murmur those same, soothing hushing sounds.

In time, you relaxed, drawing in shaky, excited breaths as his cock slowly began to push into you, the spade-shaped tip catching your breath as it slipped its way inside you.

“So good,” he murmured again, though his voice had grown taut in his restraint, in how cautiously he entered you, wanting to keep from causing any undue discomfort. You whined, wriggling in his grasp as best you could to tempt him further into you, his touch making you realize how empty you felt.

When at last he bottomed out, you breathed a sigh of relief, even as you tried to not twitch, squirming at the way his cock still moved inside you, instinct bidding it to seek more friction.

You squeezed around him and he gasped, softly—your own instincts pushing you now to press your lips to his heated skin, his jaw, his cheeks, his lips when finally he turned enough to let you and he melted.

You moaned, freely against his lips, as even just this, even just kissing seemed to send his cock writhing inside you for stimulation. Still, though, you tried to pin your focus on him—the way he melted even without you being able to touch him, even with every chance for him to turn the tables, have you weak, pliant against him, he let you have this. He wanted this, and you wanted to provide, you wanted to distract him from his chosen role.

Of course, he wouldn’t let himself be for long—wouldn’t let you tear his control of this, of you from his eager fingers for very long, grabbing your cheeks to pull your lips from his.

You pouted, whining your displeasure while your eyes fluttered open. He was panting for breath, but his limbs, shifting like the tides, curled covetously around you once more when he murmured, “You really are so sweet to me. Such a perfect little prize, aren’t you?”

One more, chaste kiss to your lips before he tilted your head back—and through the slight opening he negotiated of your jaw, one of his tentacles took advantage, prising your jaw open further and pushing its careful, slow way into your throat.

Vaguely, the taste of your own slick registered on your tongue, and you realized that this was the tentacle he had stuffed into you moments ago, and that knowledge had you clenching on his cock again as his tentacle began to move, thrusting in and out of your mouth, toying with your tongue. You whined—for want of kissing, for embarrassment, for need, it didn’t matter, the sound was torn from your throat regardless, and Azul soaked it in gladly, pressing kisses to the corner of your eye, hot with tears, to your cheek, hot with want, to your throat, your shoulder, each dotted with a gentle little, “Perfect,” possessive and pleased.

Your tongue traced over one of the suckers on the tentacle in your mouth and he shivered, his cock pulsing inside you. And just like that he began moving, sinking deeper into you, curling into you harder to feel the way you squeezed around him. And when that wasn’t enough, in his mind, his fingers which had been previously in your mouth moved down to your clit—you squealed around the tentacle in your mouth, but it just pushed further into you in careful measure—leaving you shaking in your effort to break free, though you had no results for how he held fast to you, not letting you escape the pleasure he was subjecting you to.

From the years you had been with him, you knew the signs that he was trying to hide, knew that he was closer to cumming than he hoped to be, weak in equal measure for you, and to how long he had been waiting to indulge himself in your body.

You tried to sink into the illusion he was hoping to put on, wriggling in his hold to keep him content with capturing you again and again, softly punishing each slight with further touch—a harsh squeeze to your breast, his pace over your clit intensified, the pace of his cock inside you slowing, a bite to your shoulder. Any of it, all of it combined to make you whine, moan, sob. All of it pushing you closer to your own orgasm once more.

“You were made for me, weren’t you?” The question was too hungry to be idle, to sound as teasing as he hoped—it was like he was licking his lips with just the thought. “So pretty, so soft, so wonderful.” He hummed, pressing another kiss to the crux of your shoulder and throat to feel you shiver in his arms. “Temptation has never looked so sweet as it looks on you. You were made for me to fill, you—” his fingers sped up over your clit and he sucked in a breath, released on a soft moan as you squeezed around him—and the thought occurred to him, “You were made to carry my babies, weren’t you?”

He moaned again, though the sound was equal parts pleasure and faux mourning, trailing off into a chuckle. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to let you go after this,” he hummed, the lightness of his voice a direct contrast to the heavy, wanting way his tentacles and arms clung to you, filling you, making it so all you could feel was him. “You started this for wanting a man on the shore, but surely he could never make you feel this good, mm? Ignoring you as he has? And you promised that you’d satisfy me—perhaps I’ll never be satisfied with you. Perhaps I’ll—” the same image sparked in his mind that choked his voice off into a moan, his cock pulsing in you before he finished, “Perhaps I’ll keep you here forever, fill you with my cum, keep you all to myself.” The idea had you whining—tightening around him in a way that made him moan, but not lose any of his pride in the way you melted for him. “You like that, do you?” he asked, and you tried to squirm away, or at least give some response, but his limbs held you in place, and the tentacle in your mouth seemed stubborn to steal all responses past weak whimpers. “What a treasure you are, so sweet. That fool on the surface has no idea what he’s missing.” Tears beaded in the corner of your eyes again for him to kiss as he purred out, “Are you close, darling?” Desperately, you nodded, moaning around his tentacle, a sound that choked out as it delved deeper into your throat. “Would you like me to make you cum?” You tried again, and the noise drawn from you as his tentacle began to pull back was nothing short of raw need. Infuriatingly he was still so composed.

His touch retreated from your clit and you thrashed, his tentacle pulling out from your mouth, letting you plead, incoherently, “Please please please please fuck—pleaseletmecum.” You couldn’t free your arms from his grasp, couldn’t touch yourself—you were at his mercy to touch your clit and draw you over the edge.

You stopped struggling when you heard him moan, and saw, over your shoulder, him sucking on his fingers, savoring your taste—you felt him pulse inside you and you knew he was so close.

You whimpered at the sight, the sensations, and he opened his eyes, letting his fingers slip out teasingly before his hand caressed your cheek, saliva still hot on your skin while his hand kept your gaze pinned on him.

“What would you give me if I did?” his voice was heady when he spoke and you let yourself get drunk on it.

“Anything.”

He grinned, and it was like his eyes glowed, knowing he had you cornered. “Such a shame I couldn’t get that on paper…another time, perhaps.”

Part of you, terrified that he meant your orgasm would be delayed, forced you to take a breath, to try and plead your case, to beg for him—only for all that air to be choked still as you felt the tentacle previously in your mouth, still hot and slick with your saliva, make contact with your clit.

That glee lit up his expression again when he murmured, “Cum for me.”

It barely took any movement on his part over your core for him to send you over the edge, all but screaming at the sensation.

Your core squeezed around him, and his body squeezed back, leaving mark after mark over your legs, your chest, your stomach, everywhere he had layered his touch.

Now, though, his hips began to work, holding you in place providing the best possible leverage for him to thrust into you, sink you further onto him while he worked over your clit.

You didn’t even try to fight the overwhelmed sensation of your body sinking to his every demand despite the way you thrashed. You didn’t tell him when you began to get overstimulated, you wanted to feel that little sharp sensation of too much while he chased his own pleasure. You wanted him, and he gave himself to you fully, a curse abbreviated by his teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder, hoping to contain his moans.

Spurts of heat slowly began to fill you as his cock twitched hard, jolting inside you as he fell into his pleasure. You squeezed around him instinctively in response and he gasped, all his limbs curling a little tighter, a little closer.

It ended on that moment, the short, magical scene you had written for yourself. It was done, and he was curled around you, shivering, clinging for a comforting spell where it was simply you and him, floating from the endorphins. It was another short moment before he felt himself enough to begin dragging you both towards the soft alcove serving as his bed, still inside you while turned you around, guided you to lay on him, to stay close to him as his tentacles reached out, still active enough to tidy up as much as possible. Tucking your discarded swimsuit close-by for you when you needed to get dressed, grabbing at the faux contract to remember to dispose of it later.

And then all his focus was on you as you flinched when his cock slipped out of you, returning to its internal sheath. “Are you alright?” You hummed an affirmative, drawing closer to him, lifting your arms up to wrap around him, wanting to get your fill of finally being able to touch him, to cling to him, as opposed to being clung to, sinking into the warmth of his skin.

His hand traced up and down your spine slowly. “My pearl, so sweet to me.”

“I’ll bite you,” you mumbled, flustered at the praise even with your face half-buried in his chest—it just meant you could feel the way his laughter buzzed through him. “Now that you’re not in my throat.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” you replied, easily. “If I need a few cough drops tomorrow I’ll take ‘em.” You grinned, slyly, tilting your head up to make eye contact with him. “Worth it.”

Now it was his turn to shy away from your flirting. “If you need a few cough drops tomorrow I’ll see if I can make something better for you.”

“For a price?” you teased at him for the role he played, the role he still plays for all of creation but you and a select few others.

“For you, nothing at all…though perhaps a few more kisses.” You smiled, starting on your debt, kissing over his chest affectionately as his hand reached up to where he stowed away the prop contract, far from anything actually bound to his magic, looking over it again idly and barked out a laugh. “You actually signed your name.”

Your eyes flicked up from your business kissing at his skin. “Mm-hm.”

“You know I could have made this an actual contract. What would you have done then?”

Your eyebrow quirked at the dare in his voice. “Oh no, you’d have to promise to make yourself love me in exchange for wild sex, whatever would you do?” you laughed. “I did read it over, love, I know better than to just sign something, even if it is a scene with you.”

His eyes warmed with a flash that looked almost like pride before one of his tentacles curled around your calf, his fingers beginning to trace idle, meandering circles up the skin of your back. “I believe the worry is more for you, dearest—you signed a document with your real name, therefore, you promised to stay here until you satisfy me fully.”

The teasing in his tone wasn’t missed—you imagined he expected you to flush at the implication, at the imagining of a long night spent with you wrapped up in him, his touch everywhere, overwhelming you in the best possible way.

He seemed to underestimate how much you wanted that.

You slowly curled yourself up onto shaky hands and knees to crawl a step or two up before you settled onto his lap, throwing your arms over his shoulders before you pouted, “Are you not satisfied?” You tried not to smirk at the way color once again flooded his cheeks after a moment of processing your question, at the way his brain stalled having you so close yet again. His hands found their place on your hips out of instinct, his tentacles beginning to curl their own way over your body again as you leaned down, tracing your nose over his throat, prompting him to tilt his head to the side, exposing more of himself. “Do you want more, Azul?” A kiss on his jaw, another on his pulse to feel the way it fluttered, you let yourself be pulled back slightly as one of his tentacles wrapped around you, coiling around your torso, up between your breasts, over your collarbone, his suckers fluttering over you, tasting you, marking you again. You let him recover for a spare moment, lifting the end of his tentacle to press a soft kiss to it.

You opened your eyes to see his pinned to you. “You are…” he trailed off on a laugh, reaching up to trace a hand over your throat up to your cheek for you to lean into. “You are a temptation.”

“Is that a nicer way of saying I’m a menace?”

“No. It’s entirely separate.” You laughed, and he lit up, reaching to pull you down again as his touch layered over your body, intent on holding you close while he kissed you—soft, warm, all the love in his eyes just for you.

And all his attention content to be pinned on you for a little while longer.

[nabaath-areng]

As children, twin brothers Jinn and Tchigri would always run away from home to embark on their so called 'expeditions' to ancient Turali ruins. Now in their adult years, they travel together as experienced archeologists, seeking to continue their mission over at distant shores. Years spent on the field using pickaxes and sledgehammers have served to help them develop new and refined techniques with their chosen tools, setting them apart from traditional miners who primarily hunt for ore. Whether it be ancient artifacts or hidden fossils, any remnants of the past are unearthed with utmost care and precision. It is not profit that drives the twins. Indeed, they merely possess an insatiable curiousity for all which came before them. To them, there's just something so very special about those who walked before not being all that different to those who now walk after. Every ruin tells them that same story; that people have always laughed, wept and bonded over the same things, then as they do now. Jinn and Tchigri hopes to compile all their findings into literature one day. Not for the sake of established scholars, but rather to introduce everyday people to the wonder of history and archeology, and thereby encouraging them to be curious about the world around them... and the stories that lie in wait, if you just know what to look for.

First attempt at writing for the so called 'background characters' (ie characters that aren't necessarily created to be fully fledged or detailed, but rather are just made for fun for me to play around with different designs and lore ideas without feeling like I have to commit wholly). I actually made their designs and gave them their names back in 2021 (and even drew them), but I just couldn't decide what their homeland should be and so they've kinda circled around aimlessly in my brain ever since then. Only now did it finally click when I realized how fitting Tural would be! Really helped them 'make sense' for me, which meant screenshot time!

[inopinatus-ea]

WELCOME

Welcome to the Kingdom of Annisgwyl ruled by King Branoc, father of Crowne Prince Emery

and Prince Raiden

The kingdom in embattled in an internal civil war and an additional war from a neighboring kingdom that wants to steal part of their land. To try and shore up their forces, King Branoc makes a deal with the Lord of another neighboring kingdom, Uchelgais, King Mavros. If Mavros will marry his only daughter, Princess Adelia

to Crowne Prince Emery and provide soldiers, then Branoc will promise mineral and ore rights to Mavros. However, things go bad from the time that Adelia and her guard, Drach

are introduced to the princes. Things only go downhill from there, leading to the possibility of Emery being replaced as heir. Will the contract and treaty fall through? Has Raiden got ulterior motives? What exactly does Drach know, and who about? And is anyone safe in the house of Branoc when the lights go out?

Coming soon to a blog near you.....

[cabin-spider-protector]

Elliott headcanons <3

Even after moving into the farmhouse, he still has his little pocket crab with him

Practically pleads with you to let him get a little tank enclosure for his crab

Every Monday when he goes to the beach, he let's the crab walk around a bit in the sand

Of course he takes great care to ensure the seagulls don't get too close

Also, sometimes he'll sit in his old cabin and look out the window, just reminiscing about the days when you used to trudge through rain and snow to visit him

A lot of his old diary and journal entries are still on his desk

The notes accurately archive the time in which elliott began to fall in love with you

There's even a journal entry for the first time he introduced himself to you

He had noted how interested he was in getting to know you more

Sometimes he winced at himself-- fearing that he may have seemed a bit too forward

But his anxieties are quickly subdued when he remembers how mutual the feeling was

When he notices the sun begin to dip in the sky, he knows it's time to head home

Sometimes on the way back he'll catch a glance of you while you're out doing various errands

He can't help but be overcome with adoration and love

He hurries home so that he can be back before you return

He'd hate for you to come home to an empty house

He takes care of tidying and dusting so you don't have to worry about it when you get home after a long day

He'd made you promise you wouldn't squash any spiders

"They're more scared of you than you are of them!" He'd always assure you

So if he was cleaning out some old forgotten corner or the cracks between the furniture, and one of the little spiders ran out, he'd make sure to safely cup it in his hands and carry it out into the woods

He probably does this dozens of times a week

You know how much it matters to him and wouldn't dream of going against your word

When you're finally home he'll shower you with love and tell you all about his time at the shore

Sometimes if he's found a particularly pretty shell, he'll give it to you as a gift

Sometimes he prefers to keep a little collection of them for various projects

Like making wind chimes or adornments for you

It's just a little hobby he has between spouts of writing inspiration

He'll try and keep it secret from you, but it's difficult for him because he just gets too excited and wants to tell you about everything he's proud of

Speaking of telling you about things he's proud of

He loves having you read his drafts

He takes so much inspiration from you and your life together

He likes seeing the way the corners of your lips quirk up approvingly when you recognize what had inspired him

Sometimes he'll add little blurbs of dialogue that are direct quotes of silly conversations you've had

He loves adding a little bit of your love into his work

It fuels him to continue

That's the reason he's always so inspired to write after helping you on the farm!

Seeing how happy he makes you inspires him in a way he never was while living in that lonely cabin

It's never a boring day with you around

Even if all you were doing was smelting ores, he'd gladly keep you company just to be in your presence

[lammydraws]

COTL x SDV Crossover AU

I've been brewing something, and it's not Ancient Fruit Wine I promise. Inspired by Husky's Farmer AU I started working on a Crossover AU with Stardew Valley.

Prepare for some of my unfiltered notes and messy doodles.

Lamb - Charlie, he/they

Their family owns a livestock farm, which is owned by their parents. He and his siblings often help out around, taking care of the animals but he still has enough freedom and time to help other villagers and farmers such as Narinder. Livestock because that's kind of similar to taking care of the cultists, right? Right?? :'D

(this is basically like Marnie's Farm)

Charlie was found as an infant in the forest by his parents who brought him home to be raised like one of their own children. He is not aware of that, but he understands junimo language & can sense a certain aura from the deeper parts of the forest. He's also better at picking up the magical aura surrounding the magical creatures.

Bishops

Their god form is similar to their Eldritch form, whilst their disguise / mortal form is similar to their regular Bishop design. In their mortal form they still stand out though, considering they're usually taller than regular villagers and always surrounded by a mystic aura of sorts.

Narinder

Narinder moved to the valley recently. It's not clear if he did so on his own wish or if someone, or something made him. Either way he's here to start a new life, and despite not having any experience he still somewhat grows into this role. He's glad he can turn over a new leaf without the prejudice of his past life.

Lamb welcomes him the day he moves to the valley and quickly notices he has no idea what he is doing, and after watching him struggle for a bit he offers his help. Narinder, being too prideful to ask help on his own accord, accepts the neighbouring farmer's advice and help albeit a bit hesitant at first.

His original domain is the very bottom of Skull Cavern, but since he left for unknown reasons the residing monsters have run wild and rampant and the very cavern itself has twisted and distorted by the uncontrolled magic, making it run seemingly endlessly.

Twins

Baal is a full time adventurer in the Adventurer's Guild, he frequently goes on long trips down the dungeons to slay monsters, collect loot and bring home ores, minerals and weapons. Aym used to be an adventurer as well, but stepped down from a full time position after he injured his eye. He runs a flower shop attached to Forneus' General Store & sometimes helps out in the Guild selling goods. 

Most other characters fill pretty expected or similar roles.

Forneus runs the local general store.

Rakshasa works at the Saloon.

Kudaii runs the blacksmith/weaponsmith. Clauneck is the fortune teller, perhaps also with a semi-permanent location in or near town.

Fisherman runs the fish shop.

Leshy

Leshy, a magical, possibly godly creature residing in the deep woods [based on the DeepWoods Mod that adds an infinite dungeon to the secret woods]. Sometimes he surfaces to the lighter parts of the forest. Not the only godly creature in the valley.

Heket

Heket resides in the Witch's Swamp. She stays mostly hidden and rarely shows herself to mortals, being more reclusive and drawn back. Few villagers are aware of the strange rune in the cave near the Railroads leading to her Swamp, and even if any dared to enter they'd be chased away quickly.

Kallamar

Kallamar resides in a deep ocean cave near shore. He frequently exits his domain to pass as mortal and help the villagers around town, usually dealing with illness and disease. He does not disclose his godly status though and villagers are under the assumption he's the doctor from the next village, coming into the valley ever so often to help patients.

Shamura

Shamura is the museum curator, at least that’s what it seems like. Them being the oldest they are very skilled at passing as a mortal with little to no flaw. Despite this they avoid the outdoors and don’t attend any holidays or town gatherings so as to not slip up in their disguise. 

Their origin is unknown, but some suspect them to come from a faraway island.

[sabotsen]

Dismantling Lighthouses

Brief monster oc introductions.

Warnings: Subtle yandere vibes; Reader/Darling is GN as always.

Synopsis: You are pulled from the sea one stormy night, bereft of your memories and find yourself in a small coastal village home to not a single human.

Your first memory is of darkness.  Heavy — the kind that sunk like tar down to your bones with a chill that thrummed in your veins. Pulled from the brink... That's what they say when the sunlight blinds your eyes. When the blanket settles too heavy upon your limbs despite the thinness of the sheet.  Lucky, they all agree even when the air burns too thick in your lungs and your voice breaks upon your chapped lips.  Are you? Truly?

Aodhán: Fire Elemental. 

Aodhán is the sole power source to the lighthouse and much of the gas lamps / lighting within the village itself. For various reasons, they are unable to leave the village, and even traveling down the cliff to linger by the shore is extremely taxing on them. It’s an unspoken rule that Aodhán is forbidden to leave the lighthouse, even during the day — but this rule is enforced only by Ísveig, and several of the other villagers turn a blind eye when Aodhán wanders down to the sea for brief respites.

It is Aodhán who spotted you that one stormy night. They have a habit of searching the sea and pestering Tovv to investigate anything odd they happen to catch sight of, especially any odd heat signatures spotted. They certainly did not expect that they caught a glimpse of in the dark waters was a human, of all things, but your company has been a fascinating gift in and of itself. 

Aodhán’s body is exclusively fire and flame but they can condense and cool the surface flames to form a makeshift body more tangible. The “skin” is just shy of rough, with bright cracks that glow red along the surface like starry trails in the sky. Occasionally wisps of smoke curl from the cracks in their skin but most of it condenses on their head and tumbles across their shoulders in a facsimile of hair that twists and curls in a constantly changing shape. Aodhán has to concentrate to be sure they maintain the temperature they want so they don't burn whoever they touch or is touching them. Overall, though, the shape they take on is malleable and they can form their molten body into the facsimile of  any creature they desire.

Since maintaining form for extended periods takes a lot of energy, Aodhán predominantly only forms a body from the torso up when he is lounging in the large cauldron that houses his flame in the lighthouse. 

Aodhán is friendly at heart, bright and always full of energy. They immediately feel a sense of kinship with you over the shared loss of memory. Despite their long time in service to the village, Aodhán has no memories of their time before they awoke in the lighthouse. They are always happy, and perhaps too eager, to pull you close and watch you try something new — be it a food, or a story, or new sights found around the village. There’s a certain sense of joy they get watch you laugh and smile. 

Perhaps it’s because they are the single power source for the village but Aodhán is almost always hungry. Their diet is primarily the coal and ore Raksa sends up with you, but they are particularly fond of the occasional geodes that can be found in the mines or traded for with the occasional visiting sea merchants. Their flames and heat get noticeably weaker and dimmer the longer they go without fuel. 

Due to his forced (almost total) seclusion, Aodhán has not seen any humans, so they are fascinated by your (weak) body heat and the softness of your skin. Long are the hours they spent in the middle of the night, while operating the lighthouse, trying to perfect control of their own body heat. After all, they can’t risk burning you — no, no, no, you’re too delicate, too fragile like the daisy growing on the cliff. They have to reign in their heat and cool the surface of their molten body just enough that when they press against your soft flesh it leaves only bruises and not scorched skin. They master it well enough — but not fast enough to their taste, those days they could not touch you were long and torturous. Thereafter, whenever you venture to the lighthouse, Aodhán is quick to pull you into a hug, quicker still to press against you and curve their form against yours as they bask in the unique heat that is yours and yours alone. 

Aside from Raksa, who provides their fuel, and Tovv, who they have pestered long enough to befriend, Aodhán is not particularly close to anyone else in the village. Perhaps that’s why when you miss a day or two without stopping by, they are that much more clingier when they do finally see you. Their touch on those days edges right on the edge of tolerable, their heat just a little too warm as they clutch at your clothes and arms. 

Warnings: Obsession runs extremely deep, as does their curiosity and fascination. The malleable feature of their body is something Aodhán is all too happy to use if it means pulling a reaction from you. Unlike Raksa, Aodhán does not like to see you cry but tears from overstimulation are quickly and easily written off as pleasure, which they then take as encouragement to continue. Their greatest thrill is service and worship, to a frightening degree. 

Easily Jealous of: Tovv, Raksa — whatever you need, whatever parts of them intrigue you, Aodhán can be. You need only stay here in the flames, starlight.

Bad End Jealousy:  Ísveig. 

Raksa: naga (gaboon viper markings; trademark long fangs) 

Runs the village’s smithy and prepares the coal and ore for Aodhán to use for lighthouse operations. 

With a sharp grin and a tilt of his head, it is Raksa who takes you under his wing and shelters you from Ísveig’s ire by providing you a means to contribute to the village. All you need do is help around the smithy and deliver a few things to the lighthouse daily. Easy, he had said with a grin too wide to be genuine kindness. 

 Steady with a passing appearance of easy-going, like the deceptive lazy pace of a river winding through a valley, Raksa never gives the impression of someone in a hurry. Focused, perhaps, but never rushed. Even when he works, bathed in the bright flames of the forge, his strikes are precise, controlled – not a single swing of his hammer in vain or miscalculated. 

When he is not working, he is oft found coiled around or near the forge, basking in the heat from the flames. His long serpentine tail winds around the base of the forge and he himself rests on a pile of coils beside it. It is only when he sleeps like this, braided hair half loose from his slumber and tossed over his shoulder, that the golden scales tracing his spine are most easily seen.  The first time you saw them, shining like shimmering stars against his skin, you nearly traced them without thought. But the cold touch of scales against your ankle just as your fingers neared stopped you in your tracks. The tip of his tail lazily flicking against the inside of your ankle like a kiss as his voice slithered over his shoulder, clear as a bell in winter’s chill air, “Careful, little mouse.” 

Raksa isn’t one for chatter usually and unlike Viellhym, he has no interest in gossip. But what he will do is listen, to a frightening degree, perhaps. Of course, his hearing isn’t the best compared to the other villagers so it’s only natural for him to drape himself over you like a willow when you speak. After all, you speak so quietly, little mouse, how else is he supposed to hear you? You don’t mind when he rests his head on your shoulder or leans against your side when speaking, right? If you let him maintain some physical contact while conversing, Raksa is happy to listen all day long, especially if he can slowly pull you into his coils by the end of it. 

Raksa absolutely loathes the cold and will cling to anything with heat that passes by. This habit of his isn’t as noticeable when he is in the main workroom of smithy, half coiled around the forge. But if you catch him elsewhere — either in town or even in his own bedroom, your body heat becomes addictive to him. You made the mistake, once, of entering his room one morning to wake him up. Between the twisting nest of blankets and his ever shifting coils tripping you up as his hands grasped at the soft plush of your hips, you did not escape his sleepy hold — let alone his room — until evening. 

He doesn’t speak of it often, but it seems he gets occasional bouts of homesickness, particularly when he spends time with Aodhán for long periods. The naga has a soft spot for the fire elemental, though, and as such tends to keep a tight lip about Aodhán’s adventures down to the shoreline. 

Warnings: Raksa loves to see you cry and loves it even more when you do so against his coils. Be careful where you tread and the distance you keep, as Raksa’s reach is further than you think and he will not hesitate to strike when you least expect it to pull you into his binding embrace. Squirm, thrash, scream if you like, it will not change your fate, little mouse. You’re right where you belong and he has waited just for this moment when you foolishly believe you are safe in his company. 

Easily Jealous of: Aodhán, Tovv — You’re having too much fun with those children, little mouse. The stars in your eyes are beautiful but come back, little mouse, come back. 

Bad End Jealousy:  Ísveig. 

Tovv: Sahagin.

Scales are a deep indigo that bleed into an ink black on his limbs; spine and fins are a bold crimson. Eye is a cloudy, soft pink on land but deepens to the bold red of his fins in the water. 

Tovv serves as the village’s protector and primary ship guide for the wharf, as passage inland can be tricky with the rocky outcroppings. He does not venture far from the waters and tends to stay away from the village proper unless absolutely necessary. He primarily lingers near the caves at the base of the cliff that the lighthouse overlooks. 

Tovv has long since been a (begrudging) friend of Aodhán, despite their opposing elemental natures. He once gave Aodhán a pearl sahagin utilize for long distance communications and has absolutely regretted it ever since. Aodhán oft syncs up to the pearl Tovv wears around his neck and asks (read: pesters) Tovv to venture out to sea to fetch odd items they spotted heat signatures of. This, of course, is how the two of them found you. 

It is Tovv that swims out to sea and coaxes your cold fingers to release the driftwood you’d clung to so desperately. It is Tovv who carefully carries you ashore, your face tucked against his neck — your breath so warm, warm, warm against his scales. It is Tovv who bundles you in his arms and carries you to the inn, despite his loathing of the land. And it is Tovv’s claws that mar your arms when you wake, bloodied by his touch. 

After you wake, it takes several days and attempts to catch the creature that pulled you from those cold salt waters. He saw you, of course, every time you ventured down to the wharf and every time you abandoned the wood planks and wandered the sandy shore. Tovv kept his distance at first, a shadow in the waters just out of your sight. You were strange and smelled different. He’d seen humans before, of course, glimpses really — most of them had huddled on the ships he inspected: they were but wares to be sold elsewhere. Not here, though. Ísveig would not suffer a human.  Getting caught up in the meddlesome headache for when you finally are either killed or tossed aboard a ship to be sold was not his type of enjoyment. So he kept his distance. 

But you were foolish enough to befriend Aodhán, which meant Tovv had to, eventually, suffer your company as well. You came with the fire elemental one night, trailing behind them as if you were afraid to get lost in the dark. You came right up to him and, unafraid of his claws and sharp teeth still bloodied from his meal, you held his hand in your smaller ones and thanked him for pulling you from the sea. The warmth of your touch lingered that night long after you left and Tovv found it increasingly hard to ignore you thereafter whenever you ventured close to the waters. 

You find that he is quite blunt by nature and there are several things about both creatures (including humans) who live on land and their way of life itself that is a mystery to him. His curiosity is innocent enough, but it is framed by the sharp edges of his claws and teeth. More than once, he has drawn your blood — an accident — and each time he has offered to clean it for you. There’s a numbing agent in his saliva, he explained once; it makes it easier to eat from his preferred fish while they still yet lived. You had asked once, what he typically ate, and he merely held your injured and bloodied arm in his large grasp, thin lips pulled back in what was supposed to be a smile. But it was too sharp, too threatening, and you could not deny the chill that lances through your spine. 

When his focus is not narrowed to a fine point on something of interest, Tovv is rather calm for the most part. He is oddly stuck in his ways and habits, however, and is loath to try something new. He’s more likely to break something while bending it to his needs and habits than to change himself. 

Warnings: blood. Tovv is fascinated by your softness and both the scent and taste of your blood rile the more primal side of him. There’s an almost predatory obsession with keeping you within range of his jaws the moment he gets even a hint of your blood in the air or waters.  

Easily Jealous of: Aodhán — the fire elemental may have spotted you but it was him that pulled you from the sea. From its waters you came and with the sea — and him — you will always belong. 

Bad End Jealousy: Erlind & Margott. 

Viellhym: drider. 

Viellhym is the village’s innkeeper and the very one who allows you to stay under her roof. She is also the one who wove a special web to act as bandages while you were recovering from being adrift at sea; your sprained ankle and the various bruises and cuts covering your body healed much quicker under her tender care. You’re so fragile as a human, though, so Viellhym worries about you — which takes the form of her hands lightly flitting across your clothes and bare skin. Just checking, of course. Do you hurt anywhere, darling? 

Since the village does not often have many visitors aside from the occasional seafarer crew staying a few days while offloading at the wharf, the first floor of the inn doubles as the village’s bar. As such it is one of the best places in the village to hear local gossip. Viellhym prides herself on being in the know of the goings on, both local and across the sea. What you offer to trade for her knowledge is a different matter altogether. Information does not come cheap, especially from her. 

Viellhym comes across as soft spoken, despite her large appearance. Her touch, too, is light and barely noticeable, awareness of her touch prickling your skin in the wake of an alien coldness she leaves behind — her hands brushing your hair back or fixing your clothes. Oh darling, it’s nothing, just a stray thread on your clothing. You can’t keep wearing these rags forever, though — won’t you let her weave you some new fabrics? Oh no, no, no trouble at all. You need only hold still for a while — it’s important to get the right measurements, after all. 

She is always mindful of both herself and her surroundings; it’s nearly impossible to hear her approach unless she intentionally makes noise.  It’s uncanny almost how many times you’ve glanced up when helping clean the inn’s tables to see her suddenly there at the bar, crimson gaze locked on you with that small smile of hers visible between her mandibles. She’s startled you in the hallways more than once, as well, and her gentle coos when she picks you up effortlessly into her arms does little to chase away your nerves. Poor thing, you just startle so easily. How ever did you last this long on your own? 

Viellhym likes to prod, regardless of whether it’s for information or entertainment. It’s subtle, too, entirely unnoticeable when she does it unless an observant third party is paying close attention. Perhaps then they might notice the sharpness behind her gentle smile or the precision of her seemingly innocent comments. Slow and gentle, like a spider winding the web around prey. 

Warnings: Master manipulator. She thrives on power, which usually comes in the form of information when it pertains to others. Oh, but for you, power doesn’t mean anything unless you’re completely reliant upon her.  It has been a long, long time since she last saw a human — she’d forgotten just how soft and delicate they are, and you are just too adorable to leave alone. You would look just adorable wrapped in silk and threads she’s woven — into clothes, blankets, or even just the simple, pure sight of her web pressing against your soft flesh. So come, dear, have a meal, take a rest. Stay a while. You’re home now, after all. 

Easily Jealous of: none. 

Bad End Jealousy:  Tovv — as the guardian of the wharf, he is the only way you’d ever be able to escape the village. She can’t risk you getting too close to him or him to you least you realize the temptation of the land beyond the sea. 

Ísveig: Ice dragon.

Ísveig is the current village “elder” or chief, as some call them. They have stood guardian over the village for longer than anyone can recall. The villagers know them for their stern protection of the land and its people, as well as the fierce distrust they harbor of outsiders. 

While Ísveig can change forms between masculine or feminine when shifting to something more humanoid in appearance, they prefer a feminine form. There is little difference between the two, however. Their tall stature, firm muscles covered with silver scales, twin horns curling from their temple, long white hair, and those thin rimmed glasses remain unchanged regardless of gender. 

Most of the villagers are accustomed to it by now, and Viellhym tried to ease your worries, saying Ísveig simply has a rather harsh expression by default. Perhaps that is true for the most part, but the dragon’s distrust of you to begin with did not help matters at all. Your sudden appearance during a stormy night, with nary a memory or clue to your name or origins spells trouble that the dragon would highly prefer stay far away from the village. When you start busying yourself to help the village folk, though, Ísveig is hard pressed to chase you off. 

It takes a while and more than a little help from Viellhym, but you manage to catch glimpses of something softer beneath the ice exterior of the village chief. It’s the small twitch of their lips, a flicker of smile you miss if you blink. It’s the long stare they watch you with, too sharp to be friendly but too heated to be distant. It’s the ‘orders’ you receive to come to their abode in the village, tasting teas and other samples Ísveig is adamant about testing first before fully allowing into the village. It’s the brush of touch swiping along the curve of your hips only to vanish as you turn around.  

Warnings: Ísveig is not one to share, nor are they one to take risks. If you needle your way too deep beneath their scales, you will find yourself trapped in the mountains, where the dragon makes their home during the long winter months. The truth of your origins and the hope to recover your memories will become irrelevant in the cradle of the mountain, trapped beneath silver claws. 

Easily Jealous of: None. 

Bad End Jealousy: Aodhán.

Erlind [Harpy] & Margott [Werewolf] 

Erlind and Margott are long standing partners that have kept each other afloat and alive throughout many years long before they ended up in the village. The bond they share is special and extremely deep. 

They also balance each other extremely well. Where Margott is upbeat and easily excitable, Erlind is typically steady and grounding. Where Margott loves to tease with a quip and sharp grin to get a rile of someone, Erlind is quicker to soothe ruffled feathers.  Margott will take a chance on a whim and luck, whereas Erlind will hesitate and try to find a vantage point. There are times, of course, where Erlind gets swept up in something or another and falls in over his head; Margott always has the widest grin and it’s with a hearty laugh that she pulls her lover out of trouble.  

Erlind acts as a courier for the village, though his work sometimes takes him to areas beyond the mountain range and forest. Margott patrols the village forest and acts as an overall guard when dealing with outsiders (primarily at the wharf). They are two peas in a pod and rarely do you see them separated for extended periods. While there is a companionship they share with much of the other villagers, there is a distinct distance they place between them and the others. 

Margott was originally tasked to keep an eye on you during your first few days upon waking and wandering the village. She does a fine job at it, as the first time you ran into her, dwarfed by her shadow as she leaned close — those fangs of hers so close to your neck — frightened more than a few years off your life. Erlind is kinder in his approach, perching on his lover’s broad shoulders and offering to give you a tour of the village. The two of them are quick to warm up to you, though. You’re not the first human they’ve met, but you’re certainly the kindest. It soothes the colder, darker memories of your kind that they keep tucked away. When you’re not hidden away in Raksa’s smithy or hiding in the lighthouse with Aodhán, Margott is quick to sweep you up with a laugh and run off with you in her arms, Erlind trailing close behind in the wind. 

Despite his calmer appearance, Erlind is easily teased by those he cares for. Margott is quick to give pointers on how best to ruffle his feathers and bring out the prettiest blush across his face, which highlights the freckles dusting across his cheeks. Margott is hard to ruffle, of course. Despite her constant energy, she slows down when she finds something entertaining to trap between her jaws — and oh, how fascinating you are beneath her, little bunny. 

It’s innocent enough at first. Margott’s claws firm as they sink into the soft flesh of your hips when she lifts you up, shifting you in her arms to carry because you simply cannot run as fast as she can. Of course she’s going to carry you, she can’t leave you behind, can she? Or when Erlind rests his chin on your shoulder as he presses his chest to your back. A hug, he says, since he can’t exactly give you one with his wings — not an adequate, warm one anyway. If his lips trace the curve of your neck as he pulls away, it’s just simple skinship between friends, little bunny. But as your stay in the village stretches on, their touches linger. It isn’t long before they sink fully into tender flesh, claws and fang alike, trapped between the two.  

Easily Jealous of: Tovv — Why are you so interested in the sea and the ships? You’re not planning on leaving, right? 

Bad End Jealousy: Extended interest in the wharf or Tovv. 

[ask-cyantist]

So, where are you from, if I may ask?

"We Beans are native to Zumira, our homeworld, but I was born in the city of Sofo on one of her moons, Ania. MIRA HQ is on the Central Shore of the main continental mass of Zumira itself, which is where we are currently!"

[Cyan cuts and takes another bite of steak and potatoes. She seems grateful for the distraction.]

"Zumira is a harsh world, so a lot of our kind prefer to live on Ania, where the terraformed bubble cities in the zirconium plateaus are pretty universally safe. The other moon, Tuphus, is a barren chunk of condensed ores with no life or water, so it's mostly an outpost for mining materials. Of course, that doesn't mean EVERYBODY vacated the planet- a good chunk of Beankind still live on Zumira proper, just in lower density populations near coastlines. Exceptions, of course, being MIRA HQ and the like."

[basu-shokikita]

Dethentines 2024 Day 6

OT3

As it has been made exceedingly clear by now, Skwistok is my OTP. My one and only, my endgame, the only pair I can see romantically in Metalocalypse, etc...

Even so, I have a number of ships I enjoy in very particular ways and I thought today would be a good day to dip on that. So, for day 6 of Dethentines you're getting a Skwistokface extravanganza because I like it and I think it's underrated! God bless!

It wasn’t everyday that Murderface felt inspired, but when he did, it made up for all the other days. He was overflowing with inspiration and creativity, stimulated unlike any other, capable of writing the sickest solos and providing the most important contributions to the…

“Gods damns it, Moidaface, dat amsnt hows you plays de F sharps.” Skwisgaar interrupted him for the upteempth time. “I tolds you, you gotsa be on de fours frets.”

Murderface frowned. He honestly didn’t know why he had to convince Skwisgaar for his idea to be approved. It’s not like he was his boss, was he? They were all equal in Dethklok, right? Except for Toki, obviously, Toki couldn’t do shit.

But Murderface was an original member, he should have a say, just like the others. It’s not like Pickles had to talk with Skwisgaar first before Nathan heard him out. So, why did he have to do that? What, so because Skwisgaar was fucking hot and talented that made him better than the others? Was that what was happening now? Was that the band Murderface joined?!

“Soes…ams you gonna plays ors?” Skwisgaar asked, raising his one particular and condescending eyebrow. “I gots stuff to does.”

Like what? Bang old ladies and fret the guitar all day?

He was going to say that when a Dethphone started ringing. Before Murderface had the time to check if it was his, Skwisgaar had already pulled his own from his pocket. “Hullos?”

God. Now he was going to have a whole conversation when Murderface was trying to show him something amazing. He started replaying his solo while Skwisgaar mumbled on the phone.

“Ja…Ja, I ams with Moidaface. In de studios.”

Murderface was really getting into this solo. This shit was fucking great! What the hell was Skwisgaar talking about?!

“We ams playi- whats? Rights nows?” Skwisgaar glanced over at Murderface and then at his bass. “...Shores. Byes.” A click indicated the end of the call.

“Who wasch it?” Murderface asked while still playing, trying not to seem too interested. Was Nathan asking how they were doing? Pickles, maybe? Were they secretly excited to know what he was cooking up?

“Toki.” Skwisgaar said in a deflated tone and Murderface cursed at the guy in his head.

Fucking…Toki. 

“...And what did he want?” 

“He wanteds- Moidaface you ams screwingks de F sharps again!”

“Okay, scho why don’t you teasch me how it isch, schinsche you know scho much!” Murderface said defensively. He was starting to get really tired of Skwisgaar’s attitude.

“Dats whats Is beens…” Skwisgaar leaned forward and pressed Murderface’s finger against the third string on the fourth fret. “Just stays- Just stays…” He pressed Murderface’s finger harder but Murderface kept pulling it off. “Just keeps pressingks deres!”

“It fucking hurtsch!” Murderface yelled.

“It wouldn’ts hurts if yous actuallies prascktiscked!” Skwisgaar countered

Murderface glared at him with disdain. “Your teaching schuschks.” 

Skwisgaar’s eyes went wide for an instant and then he got up. “Alrights, dats it.”

“What?”

“Ams gonna makes you plays dats notes.” Skwisgaar looked down at him. “Gets up.”

“Why?”

“Gets up!”

“Okay, fine! Jeschusch!”

Skwisgaar frowned at him before he started surrounded him. 

“Wait, what are you-”

“Just stays stills, Moidaface.” Skwisgaar said from behind him. “You mades me do dis.”

“Do wha-” Suddenly, Skwisgaar’s arms were surrounding him and, little after, Murderface felt Skwisgaar’s chest press against his back. “What the-”

“Just follows my fingers.” Skwisgaar said in a low tone, his face next to Murderface’s. This time, his fingers were gentle when they pressed against his. “Dere you goes…and dens you can does dis…” He moved Murderface’s hand with his own. “Ja, dats good…”

Unfortunately, Murderface could hardly pay attention to what he was playing, as good as it was sounding. The closeness, the almost intimate way with which Skwisgaar was touching him, his voice in Murderface’s ear... 

Murderface couldn’t think, he couldn’t think, and it’s like the room was getting hotter all of sudden. Like the temperature had dropped to hell-like levels. Did he have a fever? Was he getting sick? Was he dying?!

“Sees how easies it ams whens you listens to me?” Skwisgaar said so smugly but Murderface was already sweating, unable to come up with a retort, unable to move even. “...Moidaface?”

“Ah!” A voice shouted, and Murderface raised his eyes. It was Toki standing at the door in shock, eyes like they were about to pop out of its sockets, his jaw dropped to the ground. 

“Oh, Tokes.” Skwisgaar straightened up. “I was just teachingks Moidaface hows to-”

But Toki wasn’t listening, walking fast towards them, an expression of unbridled anger in his face. His guitar, hanging from his neck, knocked against his thighs with each of his steps.

“Toki?” Skwisgaar called him with confusion.

“You!” Toki pointed an accusing finger and Murderface began to flinch. “You rats!”

“Whats?”

The veins on Toki’s face were terrifying. Oh, shit, he was furious, and Murderface never wanted to be near that. He closed his eyes in fear, awaiting for the impact.

Yet nothing arrived.

Suddenly, there was a pull from his arm. “You ams tryings to steals Moidaface from mes!” Toki exclaimed childishly. 

He opened his eyes in surprise and saw it was Toki’s hand grabbing him from the arm. 

“Heugh?” Skwisgaar raised both eyebrows. “No, I ams teachingks him de notes.”

“No, you ams stealings hims from me!” Toki insisted with a pout. He pulled from Murderface again. “Let’s goes, Moidaface.” He was strong enough that he was going to drag him away from sheer strength alone.

“Noes.” Skwisgaar was now grabbing Murderface from the other arm. “We ams goingks to keeps prackstickings.”

“Noes!” Toki yelled. “We ams goings to plays! Comes on, Moidaface!” His grip on Murderface was getting stronger.

“I saids noes.” Skwisgaar was frowning now. “We ams prackstiskings.”

Toki turned to him, offended. After a few seconds glaring at each other, he asked. “Why you gots to copies me?”

“Seriouslies?”

“Ja! Yous always copyings me!” Toki argued. “Yous always doings whats I does! And nows yous tryings to steals my friends! Gets yous owns!”

“Toki, Is never once copies you, ams you kiddingks me?! Yous always copyings me! Yous! And yous copyings me right nows against! Goes gets someones elses, goes!”

“Noes, I wants to plays with Moidaface!”

“I don’ts cares! We ams goings to prascktice!”

“Stops copies me!”

“You stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

Caught between the bantering and the pull of two different people, Murderface couldn’t think. He couldn’t process this. This was perhaps the first time in his life two people were fighting over him. And it was pretty flattering, he didn’t know Skwisgaar and Toki liked him so much. Could it be that he was underestimating his popularity all along? 

Nice.

“Fucks you, Skwisgaar, he ams comings with me!” Toki spat, pulling harder from Murderface.

“Fucks you, Toki, he ams stayings with mes!” Skwisgaar retorted, pulling just as hard from Murderface.

“Noes, he isnts!”

“Yes, he ams!”

“Ladiesch!” Murderface raised his arms, smugness all over his face. “No need to fight over me, there’sch plenty Murderface for everyone.” 

Skwisgaar and Toki stared at him, then at each other. Then, they got more aggressive.

“You ams just jealous Moidaface ams mines best friends and favorites evers!”

“Oh, ja?” Skwisgaar challenged him. “Wells, he ams my favor tits too, and he ams also mines new rhythms guitarists!”

“Whats?” Toki was baffled. “You cants do dats!”

“Oh, yes, I cans!”

“Wells, I loves him!”

“Noes, I loves him more!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

“Stops copies me!”

…

…..

……..

Skwisgaar stared at Murderface’s unconscious body on the floor. “You thinks he ams dead?” He glanced at Toki.

“No ways.” Toki said. “He ams laughings, sees? Totallies alives.”

Skwisgaar leaned in to inspect Murderface’s face. “Oh, ja, he is.” He straightened up. “Whats weirdos.”

“Ja, he alls be fines.” Toki sounded disinterested.

“Soes, eugh…” Skwisgaar gazed at the guitar Toki was still holding, almost apprehensively so. “Whys you knocks him outs whens you arriveds?”

“Oh.” Toki’s face turned inexpressive, though if Skwisgaar had been any closer, he would’ve been the pink tinge on his cheeks. “I don’t knows. He ams just pisseds me offs.”

“Eugh…”

“Wants to prackstice?” Toki suddenly asked. “I brings my guitars!” He lifted the bloodied guitar.

“...Ja, shores.” Skwisgaar followed Toki. “Since whens you wants to pracsticke?” He asked with skepticism.

Toki shrugged and smiled at him. “It ams a good days, rights?”

“Rights.” Skwisgaar reluctantly agreed. As Toki cleaned the blood and dust off his guitar with his shirt, he wondered. 

What were the odds that the two laziest members of the band suddenly felt like working on the same day?