#pearl earring vessel

[galleryofart]

Cleopatra's Feast

Artist: Jacob Jordaens  (Flemish, 1593–1678)

Depicted People: Cleopatra, Mark Anthony

Date: 1653

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Collection: Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg

Jordaens. Cleopatra (68-30 BC), Queen of Egypt, was famed not only for her intelligence and her beauty, but also for her extravagant behaviour. Once, seeking to amaze with her wealth her beloved, the Roman commander Mark Antony, she dissolved a large pearl in a glass of vinegar, and then drank it down to the very last. Jordaens depicted the moment when Cleopatra drops the pearl earring into the vessel, while Mark Antony, his companion and a negro servant freeze in silent amazement, experiencing a mixture of envy, regret and admiration. Only the court jester shows with the gesture of his right hand and his grotesque grin the ridiculous nature of Cleopatra's wastefulness. The allegorical composition was seen as a judgment on Pride or Vanity, and this didactic subtext was typical of the Flemish school.

[darkbluekies]

GOLDEN TRIAL PT1: In the belly of the beast

Part 2

Yandere!mafia x yandere!female!mafia x female!yandere x yandere!king x yandere!doctor x male!detective!reader

Summary: Its 1935 and you've been sent on the Liner Normandie to retrieve a stolen painting. You have six suspects and the clock is ticking — you only have four days before the ship reaches New York to find it. But soon, you find yourself caught up in something even more serious than you could have believed.

Warnings: getting hit in the head with a bottle, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, stalker behavior, light misogyny(?), guns, needles, violence

Word count: 11.7k

DAY 1 — Debark

The ship towers over you like a mad giant. Gray smoke rises from the two forward funnels. It’s the biggest in the world, bigger than any man made object that can float. You shake your head. Focus. You’re not here for pleasure. You continue your way over to the terminal. The agency sent you in hopes of finding the lost painting, no one else. You need to stay focused, they’re counting on you.

Without questioning, you give the fake ID to the man behind the desk. When you had started out as an agent, you were always nervous that your covers would be blown and you would be found out. Nowadays, you’ve noticed that if you look nervous, risk are that you’ll be asked questions. 

You walk over the gangway with your bag in hand. You have just above four days to find the painting — a very famous portrait of a woman with her head slightly turned to the viewer, wearing a big, blank pearl earring. It was stolen from the Mauritshuis in the Netherlands two weeks ago, and details have revealed that it has been taken to France, and will be moved to America on the SS Normandie. The painting itself isn’t insanely big, but the fuss about it’s disappearance is. You have to find it at all cost. 

Before you got here, you had time to take a look at the passenger list. There are six people you recognise, where of five could be your potential smugglers. 

Silas Achilleos, a mob boss wanted by the police, and his second in command. A man like him was probably not interested in paintings, but he could have clients who did. And those could pay him heaps of money. 

Edmund of Vesanus, a young king who likes the bachelor life. He surrounds himself with loads of women and alcohol, partying like nothing matters. He would take the painting because he doesn’t want anyone else to have it. He’s traveling with his doctor, a certain Karl Kry who you don’t know much about. 

Hedwig Carter, a young heiress who’s father is noble, and who's mother is famous in the acting business is traveling with a young woman named Jerry Kim, someone you guess is Hedwig’s chaperone. Hedwig is known for getting whatever she wants with a snap of her fingers, and if she wants a painting … she will get it. Jerry, however, does not have much information out in the open. Everything about her before she started to work for Hedwig is wiped away. You want to know who she is and where she comes from, and what she would want a painting for.

You walk down the stairs to your cabin on A-deck and start to pack up, using the second bed in the room to store your bag. After settling in, you decide to take a look around this magnificent vessel to get familiar with it. You make your way up to the promenade deck and give the open cinema by the stairs a quick look. You guess that they’re going to put on movies once the ship reaches open water. If you’re lucky you’ll see something interesting. And hopefully, you have the time to watch it. 

The promenade is enclosed decorated with a gray floor, comfortable deck chairs and clear windows. A line in the tricolor fashion runs along the floor, as if to show where to walk. You walk on the line, flashing a little childish smile. You’ve left Le Havre and are on your way out towards the Atlantic’s open arms. The clock is ticking. 

Your eyes lock onto someone walking towards you and you immediately realize that it is Hedwig and her chaperone, an east asian girl … wearing pants and a long sleeved shirt. You don’t realize how obvious it is that you’re staring until the woman opens her mouth and you realize that they’ve stopped right in front of you. 

“What are you staring at, sir?” she asks, raising her eyebrows and putting her hands in her pockets. “If you want to say something, do it.”

“No—no, sorry”, you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“Tell me, do you approve of women who wear pants?” 

It sure looks weird, but is it? When you think about it, aren't pants just pieces of the same fabric as skirts, just sewn differently?

“Uh, I … suppose so.”

To that, Jerry nods approvingly.

“I don’t see why only men should wear pants”, she says.

“Well, I don't feel comfortable wearing them”, Hedwig chuckles nervously and smiles softly. “But they fit you, Jerry. They really do.”

“You must be miss Carter”, you say, as if you don't know, and shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, please call me Hedwig! Who are you?” 

“I’m Axel Ainsworth, I'm in the art industry.”

Hedwig’s smile widens. “That is very interesting, I love art. Especially portraits. Capturing humanity’s differences and details are magical. Don’t you think so, Jerry?”

“I’m more for that new thing — surrealism, I think it’s called — where everything is here and there and weird to believe”, Jerry says, shrugging. “But portraits can be okay too, depending on what type.” 

Hedwig has turned her eyes to you, glued them onto you as if you are the only thing she could ever see. “Are you traveling alone, mister Ainsworth?” she asks. 

You have remembered your entire forged background and learned it skillfully. Even your fake name rolls off the tongue as smoothly as if it was your real name. You're traveling alone because you're on your way home to your fiancé from a business trip. 

“I see”, Hedwig smiles and turns to the woman next to her. “Let me introduce you to my chaperone, miss Jerry Kim. You're always welcome to sit with us during dinner. We'd be more than happy to accompany you.”

“I'm grateful to know that, miss.”

With that said, the two women walk away. You frown and sigh. Hedwig seems like a very sweet young woman, it’d be a shame if it was her who was the culprit. Her chaperone, on the other hand, gives you weird vibes. Something about the look in her eyes … as if she’s looking right through you, scanning you. 

You continue down the promenade until you turn into the Winter Garden, a half moon-shaped room full of plants and lamps and big, wide windows, overlooking the special shaped bow that has given Normandie the speed it has. Passengers have already started gathering in the Winter Garden to talk to friends and family and watch how Normandie makes her way out onto the Atlantic. None of them resembles the men you’re looking for. You continue your way through the ship, eventually finding yourself in the smoking room on the embarkment deck, where you had stepped onto the ship. You had only glanced at the room before, but now when you’re standing in the smoking room — and very well the lounge since they’re connected — you realize how stupid you must have been to miss it. There must be ten meters up to the ceiling, you think, and bigger than a concert hall. A long, grey staircase leads up to the outside deck. The art deco interior is modern and sleek, but the whip overall has a classic, conservative design that reminds you of the great liners of the old age. You sigh while thinking of the Mauretania and the Olympic, Britain's biggest rivals which now are laid up in Jarrowtown, side by side, ready to be scrapped. There’s something melancholy about it all, and at the same time something beautiful, starting as enemies and now ending it all under the same flag, together. 

You shake your head. Focus. Your eyes catch someone standing by the windows, someone very familiar. Silas and his right hand man. You move closer, trying to hear what they’re talking about.

“I’m not complaining, I just think that it is annoying that it has to take four days to get to America”, Silas mutters and takes a whiff off his cigar. 

“Any other ship would take double the time, sir”, his second in command says apologetically. “I doublechecked.”

“I don’t like being in one place for too long.”

“See it as a vacation. You’re deserving of it. Let’s enjoy some good food, alcohol and some company. It’ll do you good.”

“I don’t like to be in one place too long. Especially when we know that they're on board!”

You furrow your brows. Who?

“Nothing will happen.”

Silas hums and smokes again. You’ve stood by the windows a few meters away, pretending to be interested in the horizon. Silas turns his eyes to you. 

“You, sir”, he says, pointing at you with his cigar. 

You look away from the ocean. Both Silas and his second in command have turned to you, their dark eyes looking right at you. 

“Yes?” you ask. 

“Is it true that the Normandie keeps her speed?” Silas asks. “No matter the weather?”

“I believe so, sir.”

Silas nods in satisfaction. “Good.”

You decide to try to get some information out of him. You know who he is, but he doesn’t know who you are, doesn’t know that you’re out to get him. To him, you’re just another first class passenger. 

“Are you in a hurry?” you wonder. 

“You could say that”, Silas sighs and turns his eyes out the window again. 

You hold out your hand. “I’m Axel Ainsworth.”

Silas second in command gives him a short look before his boss shakes your hand. His grip is hard, firm. 

“You can call me Silas”, he says. “No need for a surname.” He takes another blow on the cigar. “What brings you out on the ocean like this?”

“I’ve been on a business trip, but now I’m going home to my fiancé”, you say, pretending to smile at the thought of your made up fiancé.

“What business are you in?”

“Art.”

Silas lifts one of black his eyebrows. “Art?”

His second in command straightens his back. 

“Yes, sir”, you say. 

“Are you a … painter?” Silas wonders. 

“God no, I can’t handle a brush even if my life depended on it. I’m an art trader, I help people sell their paintings for the right price.”

“I see. Well, one can’t do everything.” He blows a cloud of smoke. “Have you traveled on this ship before, Axel?”

“No, it’s my first time. But I’m not unfamiliar with the ocean, I used to travel a lot on the older ships in my younger days.”

“Then I suppose you have a favorite?”

You think for a second. “I did like that Cunarder, the Lusitania … such a shame Germany sunk it.”

“You never know which ships are safe or not, just look at that Titanic fiasco. They thought it was the safest ship afloat. Yeah, sure it was.” Silas shrugs. “Wouldn’t surprise if this peace of junk also sinks. Why wouldn’t it?”

“Well …”

Silas’s second in command taps him on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Silas frowns and nods before turning to you. 

“It was nice speaking with you, but I have some business to deal with”, he says shortly. 

“Have a good day”, you say. 

Silas nods politely and leaves. You follow him and his second in command with your eyes until they’ve left the smoking room. He was nicer than you had anticipated. 

Your next suspect, you find in the dining hall that evening. You’ve met up with Hedwig and Jerry in the reception. Hedwig is wearing a pink evening gown with pink gloves. Her honey blonde hair is curled and put up with hairpins. Jerry is wearing a dark purple, sleeveless dress, showing a couple tattoos. In her short, black hair, there’s a little decoration that reminds you of a flower. She's wearing dark lipstick, in contrast to Hedwig who wears a Hollywood red.

“They wouldn’t let me in unless I dressed ladylike”, she mutters. 

“I think that you look gorgeous, Jerry”, Hedwig smiles and takes her hand. 

“I guess that it isn’t that bad.”

“I like your tattoos”, you say. “Where did you get them from?”

“A tattoo artist, of course.” She then twists her arm to show something on the inner side of her bicep. “Okay, I made this one myself.”

You step closer, seeing a small heart tattooed on her arm. 

“That’s cute”, you smile. 

“Thank you”, Jerry smiles smugly. “Hurts like hell though.”

“I can imagine.”

The stewards allow you into the dining room and — for what feels like the thousand time today — you’re amazed by the interior. Silver walls with golden ceiling and art decor wherever you could see. In the middle of the long dining hall, there’s a gigantic, golden statue of a woman. 

Hedwig and Jerry leads you to a table and sit down. That’s when you see your last suspects. They’re walking through the dining hall, dressed in tuxedos. The king can’t be more than twenty years old. His doctor is a minimum of fifteen years older. 

“You son of a bitch”, he says suddenly and looks at the table you’re sitting at. “Hedwig?”

Hedwig’s eyes widen in shock.

“Edmund, what are you doing here?” she asks with a smile. “Sit with us, please.”

The king and his doctor sit down at your table. 

“Good evening”, the blonde doctor says and shakes yours and Jerry's hand before introducing himself. “I’m Doctor Kry.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Axel Ainsworth”, you say. 

“This is king Edmund.”

You’re about to shake his hand, but Doctor Kry removes your hand. 

“I’m sorry, but he doesn’t shake people’s hands”, he whispers. 

“Oh, I see”, you say. 

The king gives you a bored look. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty”, you tell him politely. 

“How do you know Hedwig?” he asks shortly. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“We met today”, Hedwig smiles. “Axel, Edmund is my relative. It’s been months since we last saw each other.”

“I’ve told you to visit.”

“I know.”

“Are you that much of a hypochondriac that you need a doctor to accompany you while you’re traveling?” Jerry chuckles. 

“What are you doing here, Jerry?” Edmund mutters coldly. 

“She’s my chaperone”, Hedwig explains.

“Oh fuck me.”

“Your majesty, maybe you should think about your language”, Doctor Kry says. “We are around others.”

Edmund rolls his eyes before looking at you in a bored manner. 

“Tell me”, he says, “where do you come from, mister Ainsworth?”

You ramble your rehearsed background. Edmund nods along with you.

“I’ve always wanted to visit that place”, Doctor Kry says. “I’ve heard that it is a beautiful city.”

“It is”, you say. 

“And now you’re going to America”, Edmund says. “What were you doing in France?”

“I was on a business trip.”

“What type?”

It strikes you as odd. He doesn’t sound interested, but still he asks you curious questions. 

“I’m in the art business”, you say.

“What for?” Edmund wonders.

“Art is beautiful and should be getting what it is worth.”

“I like art”, Doctor Kry. “I would do anything to see the Mona Lisa.”

“Why didn’t you visit it when you were in France?” Hedwig wonders. 

“We didn’t have time … Edmund didn’t want to go there.”

“Why should I squash together with other people to see paintings?” Edmund scoffs. “If I want to see a painting, I get it for myself. That’s that.”

“But do you like art, your majesty?” you ask. 

“Everyone likes art”, Edmund replies nonchalantly. “That’s what gives life meaning.”

“Have you read a certain story, Edmund, called ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’?” Jerry asks with a teasing smile. “Thought that it’d fit you.”

The story is about a man who wants nothing more than to remain youthful … to the point where he has a painting of himself where all of his sins can be seen. In the end, the picture is as gruesome as can be, but Dorian himself is as youthful as he started.

“Oh, shut up, Jerry”, Edmund mutters angrily. “One day, I’ll teach you manners, believe me.”

Jerry smirks. 

You eat dinner together with the young king and the doctor. Afterward, to soothe your aching stomach, the five of you walk up to the outside promenade deck to get some fresh air. You strut under the lifeboats, under the stars. Above you, a big luminous sign spells out the name 'NORMANDIE’, casting a soft light on you. Doctor Kry has lent his blazer to Hedwig, and you’ve tried to offer yours to Jerry who refused before you had the time to open your mouth.

“Ladies, I think it’s time for you to retreat”, Edmund says, sounding sweeter than before. “It’s starting to get late.”

“The evening is young”, Jerry insists. 

“I’m tired”, Hedwig yawns.  

“Jerry, be a good girl and bring Hedwig to your cabin”, Edmund grits. “Please. I’m not fighting with you again.”

Jerry rolls her eyes, removes the doctor’s blazer and tells you goodnight. Hedwig gives you and Edmund a hug. Her flowery perfume clogs up your nose, dulls your head for a moment. The three of you wish the girls a pleasant evening and continue walking. 

“Hedwig is a stupid girl”, Edmund says, strolling slowly. “One can’t help but want to take care of her.”

“She seems very sweet”, you admit. 

“She is. Just very naive. I’ve promised her father that I’m going to take care of her whenever I meet her.”

“Her chaperone is … interesting”, Doctor Kry remarks. 

“God, yes, I hate her!”

“What is it about her that you don’t like?” you ask curiously. 

“I do not like girls like her. Did you see her tattoos? She often walks around in man’s clothing and I don’t think it’s fitting for a woman — especially someone that is close to my relative. I don’t want her influencing Hedwig.”

“I don’t think you have to worry, your majesty”, Doctor Kry says calmly. “I think Hedwig is going to be okay.”

“If there’s one thing I’m glad for, it is that Hedwig is predictable.” He groans. “I need a cigar. Let’s go to the smoking room.” Edmund turns around to give you a look. “Axel, are you joining?” 

“I don’t know”, you reply. “It’s the first day, I’m still tired from embarking.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re going to bed now.” He looks at his expensive watch. “The clock is ten. Stay one hour.”

You give up and follow them to the smoking room. Maybe it is for the best. If you want to get close to them, you’ll need to spend as much time observing them as you can. 

Sitting with them in the smoking room, you find that Silas and his second in command aren't here among the other men. You frown, thinking that they would be here since they were earlier. 

When you’re allowed to leave, two hours later, your mind is fogged up by smoke and whiskey. You make your way through the empty corridors to your cabin, closing and locking it behind you. Tiredly, you sink down on your bed and sigh out. You have observed them, and talked with them the entire day, and yet you haven’t figured out who could be hiding the painting. They all seem interested in art. They all could have taken it. 

There's so many questions. What kind of doctor is Kry? Where did Jerry come from and why is there no information about her? Why would someone like Hedwig hire her as her chaperone? And who is that person that Silas doesn't want on board? Is there someone you haven't accounted for, someone else that can have stolen the painting?

You hide your face in your hands and groan. Three days left.

DAY 2 — Sea

You wake up early, get ready and head out into the corridor. You lock the cabin door behind you, feeling the handle to make sure that it is locked and make your way to the Winter Garden to have a cup of coffee. The large windows give you a wide view of the calm ocean. The sun rises up from the blue water in a magical sense that has you hypnotized. It's all so very quiet and relaxing.

After your cup of coffee, you stretch your muscles, and contemplate going down to the swimming pool to take a few laps, to warm up your muscles and clear your head for the day's work. You pay the purser and make your way down to the swimming pool on D deck. The tile walls are covered with art that reminds you of ancient Greece and the new, abstract type of paint. The pool itself was formed as a long rectangle with curved corners, green steel ladders, and a steep and a shallow part. Throughout the shallow part, there were thick, dull spikes, likely to stop children from going out into the deep end. 

Despite being the early hours of the first morning on board, someone is already in the water. Doctor Kry.

“Good morning”, he says. “You’re up early.”

“So are you”, you reply.

“I always need to clear my head before starting the day.”

“What about the king? Is he swimming too?”

“Don't kid around. He doesn’t wake up until nine. I wouldn’t be able to get him out of bed before that anyways. He’s a very deep sleeper and hates getting woken up.”

You feel your heart skip a beat. 

“Where do you have your cabin?” you ask. 

“On the promenade deck, one of the suites. A-54.”

Bingo. 

“Why do you ask?” Doctor Kry wonders.

“I was just thinking that since the king doesn't want to be disturbed, choosing the right cabin place is important.”

“Did we choose a good cabin then?”

You nod, despite not knowing a single thing about cabin placements. The only thing you're aware of is to be as far away from the noisy engine room as possible.

Perhaps if you asked the purser, you could get the number of the other cabins. He, if anyone, should have the passenger list. 

You glance back at Doctor Kry who's still hanging by the side of the pool. This is your time to investigate him. You slowly get into the water.

“Such a shame that you didn't get to visit the Mona Lisa”, you say as you start to swim. “It's a very pretty painting.”

“So I've heard”, Doctor Kry says slowly.

“My favorite painting is ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’, have you had the opportunity to see it?”

He's quiet for a second.

“I haven't”, he says, sounding low. “I guess that, an art trader like you, must be troubled by its disappearance.”

“Of course”, you answer.  

At this point, a detective and an art trader don't seem like different things, especially since both would be looking for the same thing.

“Can I ask you something?” you wonder.

“It depends”, Doctor Kry says. “Go ahead.”

“Forgive me for being nosy, but why doesn't his majesty like Jerry?”

“He is very old fashioned. He doesn't think that women should be dressed in pants or have tattoos. Edmund is very self centered, yes, but he's also very possessive of the ones he holds dear — example being miss Hedwig. As you may know, his parents were murdered by enemies to the monarchy and ever since, the only relatives that have been in his life have been Hedwig and her family. They're very close in age too — Hedwig being eighteen and Edmund nineteen — which has been a very important thing for him. He sees her as a friend, maybe his only friend. So having someone that could potentially blemish his friend and only family is a threat to Edmund.”

“Then why does Hedwig have Jerry?”

“I don't know. It could be because of a teenage revolt. Jerry is different to everything that Hedwig has ever known … and now that she's eighteen she might want to try something new.”

“Do you think that Edmund is worried about her? Because of Jerry?”

“I wouldn't say worried, because the only thing the king worries about is himself, but I think that there's something along those lines. I think that he sees Hedwig as an extended part of himself rather than her own person.”

You nod carefully.

“I wonder where Hedwig found Jerry”  you say. “How someone like her could get the job as Hedwig’s chaperone. Do you know where she comes from?”

Doctors Kry suddenly laughs.

“You ask an awful amount of questions this early in the morning”, he says and gets out of the water. “I'm sorry, I don't have more answers for you, Axel.”

You look up at him, where he stands on the tile floor. He looks down at you with a small smirk.

“You remind me of a little boy”, he says and lowers his eyes onto your physic. “You're awfully trained to be an art trader. One could think that you were an Olympian.”

“Shouldn't a doctor be pleased that I am taking care of myself?”

“I am. You look good, healthy.  Just found it humorous.” He wipes away a few drops of water trying to go into his blue eyes. “I suppose that I will see you later. Goodbye, Axel.”

“Goodbye.”

You decide to do a few more laps around the swimming pool before getting up and drying yourself. Tomorrow morning, you will sneak into Edmund’s and Doctor Kry’s cabin to see if the painting is in there. But for now, you need to go to the purser. 

You change into your suit. In the front pocket, you keep a little commonplace book to take notes. You  make your way back to the pursers office. The man behind the desk gives you a service smile and asks how he can help you. 

“Do you happen to have the passenger list?” you ask. “I would like to know where some people’s cabins are located.”

“What is your name?” the purser wonders. 

“Axel Ainsworth.”

“Who are you wanting to find?”

“Hedwig Carter and Silas Achilleos.”

The purser disappears into his office. You wait impatiently, suddenly feeling watched. Carefully, you glance over your shoulder, but the only ones in eyesight are two men who are conversing. The purser returns. You fish out your notebook, ready to note it down. 

“Miss Carter has cabin B-23 and Mister Achilleos has cabin A-11.”

You write it down. “Thank you.”

With that said, you leave to go to the staircase. You’re not sure where to go, so you decide to take a stroll down the enclosed promenade while thinking. Doctor Kry knows more, you think, but he doesn’t want to tell. 

You sit down on one of the deck chairs to write down what you have gotten to know, so that you won’t forget any important information. You write down the suspects' motives to steal the painting, Silas’s weird enemy, their relation to each other — which only connects Edmund, Kry, Jerry and Hedwig — as well as the answers that you have gotten from Doctor Kry earlier today. Who has the painting? Your first instinct says that Doctor Kry doesn’t have it, because he’s not interested in that painting. Had it been the Mona Lisa, things would have been different, but this painting doesn’t interest him. That doesn’t mean that the painting couldn’t be in his room, though, because Edmund could still want to have it. 

You stand up after a while and continue walking. Your eyes fixate on something in the distance. A woman dressed in pants talking to a man in a suit that seems to be hiding in the corner of the promenade. You frown. 

What does Jerry have to do with Silas's second in command? 

You want to move closer, but you don’t want to expose yourself. You’ll have to change the relations in your notes, because there’s clearly something more than you’ve been led to know. 

What if Jerry’s lack of background has something to do with the mafia? It would explain her tattoos … that or being a sailor. But because of what you've just witnessed you can most likely scratch the latter. A shiver runs down your spine. If Jerry is dangerous, then Hedwig could be too. You stop in your tracks. Hedwig? Really? Edmund said it himself, she's a stupid, naive girl. Could she be dangerous?

You walk up to the open deck in the stern of the first class accommodations where you find a few kids playing something reminding you of curling. You sit down on the zig-zag benches placed out on the deck and watch them. They notice you looking and ask you to join them, so you do. You decide that maybe you can pleasure yourself in a harmless children's game for a few minutes, and continue the mission after.

When lunchtime rolls around, you make your way down to the dining hall. It's emptier than yesterday evening. You find Silas and his second in command sit by a table. Silas notices you and waves you over. Your feet bring you to him.

“Sorry to cut our talk short yesterday, Axel”, he says politely and gesticulates at the chair in front of him. “Sit down. Let me buy you lunch.”

And so, he does. You sit down and try your best not to glance at the second in command who’s black eyes burn through you. Your stomach twists. 

You both get lamb, something you have eaten many times before. Still, it tastes better at sea.

“What did you say that you were here for again?” Silas asks suddenly as he’s cutting his meat.

His voice sounds different from yesterday. You clear your throat to make sure that your voice won’t shiver.

“I’ve been on a business trip”, you say. “And now I’m going home.”

“Yes, yes, I know that. What I mean is that you didn’t tell me why you were in France. What kind of business trip was it? What did you do? I know that you were there for art, but what do one do on an art business trip? You have to forgive me for being curious.”

“I was meeting some people from the Louvre.”

“I see. About what?”

“Art’s future, how to make sure they don’t break or smudge or get tainted by the sun. And how to protect them. You must have heard about ‘the girl with the pearl earrings’ missing?”

“Yes, of course. Isn’t it weird that someone would steal that painting? Why not a Monet painting? Or the Mona lisa?”

“I don’t know. Maybe taking one of them would be too big of a deal. Maybe the one taking the painting thought that since it isn’t one of the most cherished, they’d have an easier time taking it … that the commotion about it would die out sooner or later.”

“Perhaps.” 

You’ve noticed that you haven’t heard the second in command’s voice at all, beside the talk he had with Silas yesterday. He doesn’t speak to anyone else than Silas … and Jerry. You still don’t dare look at him, scared that he will see right through you and know that you’ve seen him talk to her. You wonder what they were talking about.

“Did you have a good time yesterday?” Silas asks.

“Yes, I did”, you reply.

“Did you meet someone?”

“No, I didn’t. I chit-chatted with some people here and there, but kept mostly to myself.”

“You do good in that. You never know who you can trust on a big ship as this. You never know who wants you good or not.”

“Why are you traveling, Silas?” you ask innocently. “You said that you were impatient to get to America. Is there a reason?”

“Of course. Everything has a reason. But I don’t think I can share that with you. At least I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Silas turns his black eyes to you and smiles slightly. His hungry gaze makes you freeze. He had seemed so sweet yesterday, but you finally see a slice of what makes him so terrifying. 

“Because someone like you shouldn’t know that”, he smiles. 

“I understand”, you say and take a piece of food into your mouth, to avoid speaking further.

“You have to excuse my man here”, Silas says and nods at his second in command. “He’s the shy type. He goes wherever I go, so you have to get used to him.”

“Is he your bodyguard?” you wonder. 

“You could say that. But I’m always prepared in case someone wants to attack me.”

He opens his blazer, showing you a revolver tucked into the fabric. You have your own in your suitcase. Walking around with it feels too risky, but maybe you’ll have to go get it. In case anything happens.

After lunch, you’re left with a weird feeling in your stomach. You have talked with him for an hour, about everything between heaven and earth … and yet it feels like you have been having two conversations in one — one on the surface and one real. 

You walk to your cabin and press down the door handle and walk into the room. The first thing that strikes you as odd is that there’s a new smell in the air. A flowery scent. You can swear that you have felt it before. Without a second to waste, you open your bag and pick up your gun, putting it in your suit. Quickly, you turn around, realizing something. Didn’t you lock the door when you went out this morning?

That evening, you spend dinner with the two girls and stay in the smoking room with Edmund for what feels like an eternity. Edmund wants to play a deck of cards with you. He seems a bit more relaxed than yesterday and even smiles a bit. 

After your games against Edmund, you decide to retreat. You walk down the long, dimly lit corridor. The narrow spaces feel almost ominous at night time, although barely any daylight reaches here at daytime either. You glance over your shoulder every tenth step, hesitating, can't help but feel watched. Your hand reaches for your gun, but before you have time to get it, someone reaches up behind you and smashes something heavy in your head. Everything turns black.

DAY 3 — SEA

“He's waking up.”

Your eyes feel like lead, and your head is even heavier. It takes a few tries to open your eyes and when you finally manage to, you want nothing more than to close them again. For a few seconds, you wonder if you're dreaming. They're all here, looking down at you. You look around and notice that they've tied your hands and feet, and left you on the floor at the end of the bed, with your back against the footrest.

You catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall. Just a bit past one in the morning. The third day has begun. You have been blacked out for three hours.

Your head is pounding, making it hard to think clearly.

Jerry bends down, grabs your chin and turns your head back and forth to inspect the damage caused on your head.

“He'll live”, she says and gives your cheek a quick, but harsh, tap.

“Well, well, Y/N”, Silas says, smirking. “You're a bit nosy aren't you?”

The mention of your name causes you to twitch and widen your eyes. In your dulled stage, you wonder if you've heard wrong, but the smirk in their faces confirm that you have, indeed, not lost your hearing.

“So, you were the agent”, Silas continues and shrugs. “I gotta admit, I was hoping that it wasn't you.”

“You were smart-”, Doctor Kry starts. 

“But not smart enough”, Edmund cuts him off sharply with his arms crossed over his chest. “‘Art dealer’, yeah, sure. A detective dealing with art. That's not the same, Y/N, if you didn't know that.”

Silas picks up something from his pocket, a small commonplace book. 

“‘Suspects are all interested in art, could be any of them’”, he reads out loud. “‘J involved with S? Talked with SIC.’ Jerry? Involved with me? Talked with my second in command? You seem to have it all written down.”

“I was involved with Silas”, Jerry says. “I know his second in command very well.”

“How—How did you … know?” you ask, baffled. “Were you all in on it?”

“Not from the start, no”, Doctor Kry says. “I only knew Edmund and had met Hedwig before. I didn’t even know Jerry, Silas or his second in command.”

You quickly realize that Jerry is the linking chain between them. She linked Hedwig, Edmund and Kry to Silas and his second in command. 

“I had already been informed and knew that there would be someone on this ship out to get me”, Silas says. “I heard that Jerry was on board and caught up with her. She told me that she and Hedwig had met you. It was her that thought it was weird that you asked all of us about art. My men dug, and found out your real identity. My men saw you speaking with the purser, hearing you ask for our cabins and decided to tell it all to me and my second in command, who told Jerry … who told the others.”

“You have more men?” you ask and can’t hide how shocked you get.

“Of course. You don’t think I would go on board with only one man? Do you think I'm stupid, darling? You, on the other hand, probably should have had someone, at least.” 

“Awfully inconsiderate of your bosses, don't you think, to send you all alone?” Jerry says.

“You were looking for this, weren’t you?” Edmund asks and pulls out something from a wooden box behind him. 

You stare at it with wide eyes. The painting.

“Who—Who had it?” you can’t help but question, gulping between the first word. 

“Me, of course”, Edmund says with an offended, yet proud scoff. “It will do nicely in my castle.”

“Now, little Y/N, you know”, Silas says. “Are you happy now? Your mystery is solved.”

Your head hurts too much to answer. You’re not sure if you’re happy. You have learned where the painting disappeared, but you’re tied and hurt, and in the enemies’ grasp. A mixed bag, so to say. 

“I can’t watch the blood”, Hedwig suddenly says and stands up from the armchair she's sitting on. 

She has been the only one that hasn’t smirked at you and seems genuinely apologetic that you're here, but you don't trust that damsel in distress look anymore. She pushes through the others to reach you with a wet handkerchief in her hands. Carefully, she kneels down in front of you and wipes the wet cloth against your forehead. She wipes away the dried blood gently.

“What are you going to do now?” you spit, coming your head to the side. “Throw me overboard?”

“Not exactly”, Silas says, smiling menacingly. 

“Not yet, at least”, Jerry says, grinning.

“If I don't meet my contact in New York, people will know that something has happened to me”, you say coldly. “They'll hunt you down.”

“Oh, will they now? I didn't realize that we had stolen their golden boy.” Silas's cruel smile widens. “Well, Golden Boy, plans seem to have changed.”

You glare at him in confusion. Silas pets your head twice and you hiss at the painful touch. Whatever they hit you with, it must have caused a gigantic bruise.

“Seems like we have to keep you for a while”, he says. “But you will have to stay in here, I’m afraid. You probably understand that we cannot let someone like you wander around the ship.”

You glare at him.

“Do you really think ropes will stop me?” you ask. “I'll be out of here in no time.”

“I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free.” He gives you a testing look before turning to his new companions. “Oh, and one more thing …” He picks up a familiar revolver, spinning it around his hand. “... thank you for the free gun.”

You want to curse at him, but keep quiet for your own sake.

“It's late, the ladies should head to bed”, he says, gesturing for Hedwig and Jerry to leave. “We need to keep someone here to make sure that our little Golden Boy won't free himself and run around, causing trouble.”

“I can take the first shift”, Doctor Kry says and golds up a syringe filled with a translucent liquid.

“Do not harm him, you hear me?” Silas tells him warningly. “I want him alive, coherent and unharmed.”

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” Edmund questions angrily. “In this cabin? Now that I'll have people staring at me?”

“You and Doctor Kry will take Y/N’s cabin”, Silas says.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Stop being so spoiled, your majesty.”

“Won't that be suspicious?” Silas’s second in command questions. “If they see the young king exit and enter someone else's cabin instead of his own?”

“No one knows his cabin”, Silas says as if things were obvious. “Besides, we're in New York tomorrow anyways. It won't be a problem.” He turns to the others. “Scatter.”

The five of them walk out, leaving you and Doctor Kry alone. The doctor sits down in one of the two armchairs in front of you with a long, tired sigh. In his hand, he twirls the syringe.

“What is that?” you mutter.

“Something that will make you go to sleep if you're trying to escape”, Doctor Kry says simply, as if he was talking about watering flowers.

“Why did you hit me in the head if you had that instead?” you ask bitterly.

“Because it wasn't me, it was the second in command and Jerry.”

“Did you lie down in the swimming pool? About not knowing where Jerry came from?”

“No, Y/N, why would I? I told you that I didn't know anything. I didn't get to know until this afternoon.”

“And yet you're quick to jump the wagon to get me killed. I thought doctors were supposed to be nice.”

“I’ve never said that I was nice.”

“What do you gain from this? Why do you want to engage in collusion with people like this? What kind of doctor even are you?”

“Still, with all these questions … look, Y/N, it’s late. You’d do good in trying to get some sleep.”

“On the floor? With my head pounding in pain? With my hands and feet tied?”

“Suit yourself.”

There’s a deadly silence after that. You listen to the sounds the Normandie creates, and somehow wishes that she could save you, but you’re trapped within her, there’s nothing to be done. You rest your head back onto the edge of the footrest and sigh heavily. Doctor Kry looks at his syringe as if it is the most interesting thing he has ever witnessed.

“I'm thirsty”, you say after a while. 

Doctor Kry stands up, walks over to the dressing table where a crystal carafe is waiting and pours you a glass. He returns to you and holds the glass to your lips, making you drink. You gulp it down and breathe heavily. Doctor Kry returns to his armchair. 

You don't know how long you've been sitting on the floor before you start to fall asleep. You thought that you wouldn't, not in this position (figuratively and literally) but you somehow fall asleep. 

“Wakey wakey, Golden Boy.”

You feel someone poke your head to the side multiple times and open your eyes to see Jerry hold a stick in her hand which she's using to poke your head.

“It's morning”, she says.

You groan groggily. She imitates you and chuckles.

“Did you have a pleasant night?” she teases.

You decide not to answer, not to humor her further. Your eyes draft onto a silver tray on the table.

“Yes, that's your breakfast”, Jerry says and lifts the tray, putting it on the floor in front of you before sitting down. 

She picks up a piece of toast and holds it to your mouth. You take a bite, feeling more humiliated than ever. If only you knew that this was where you'd end up when you stepped on board in France.

“We will be in New York tomorrow”, Jerry says, holding the toast to your lips. “And we'll sneak both you and the painting past your contact.”

“It's just a painting”, you say cluelessly. “Why do you all want it so much?”

“I’m not particularly interested in the painting, but I know that Edmund and Hedwig are.”

“Why?”

“Art nerds.”

“Is it even selling for much?”

“It is — if you give it to the right consumer.”

“And you? What do you gain from this?”

“The thing isn’t about what I gain, it is what I lose … in case I let you roam freely. I don’t trust what you will do with the painting or it’s contents. Plus, you know who I am. If you wouldn’t have stuck your nosy head in everything, you wouldn’t have any problem with me.”

You suddenly realize something. 

“Jerry, I need to go to the bathroom”, you say. “I haven’t been to the bathroom since before you knocked me in the head.”

She sighs heavily. “Alright, come here.”

Before pulling you up on your feet, she unties them. You stumble, almost falling on Jerry. 

“Watch it, big boy”, she warns you. “If you knock me down I’m kicking you between your legs until you can’t have children.”

“If you hadn’t tied my feet, I would actually have blood in them. I can’t feel them.”

She unties your hands bitterly. You make your way into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Hedwig had wiped away some of the blood, but there were still traces of it in your scalp. You sigh heavily. What should you do? Finally, your hands and feet are free, but you aren’t yet. And — after a quick look around — there’s no way out. The only way out is through the door which Jerry is guarding. 

You could perhaps get out by defeating Jerry, but you have something against fighting women. But, then again, she had knocked you with — what you guess was — a glass bottle. You look around for something that can help you and lay your eyes on a metal bar over the bathtub, used to pull one up. Without a second thought and will all your might, you rip it off. You give it a few squeezes, feeling if it could be strong enough to be used as a weapon and trying to find a comfortable, yet strong, grip. 

You open the door quickly and swing the metal bar towards Jerry. She tries to grab it out of your hands but you push her off and knock her to the ground with the bar. You're not sure how hard you are hitting her, but it's enough force to keep her down. Quickly, you make your way past her and storm out of the cabin, almost crashing into the opposite wall in the corridor. You look around quickly, trying to think of where to go. After what Silas said, that he has more men than just his second in command lurking around, you're not sure who you can be seen by. You need to find an officer. You need to get higher.

Shit, the painting!

Your heart is beating loudly in your chest as you scurry back into the cabin. Jerry is lying on the floor, unconscious, and you almost feel bad for knocking her, but you know that it had to be done. It was her or you. Quickly, you open the wooden box and fish out the painting, tucking it under your arm. You can't hide it in your cabin, not when they know about it. You have to dispose of it somewhere safe.

Every step you take is careful, planned and mortified. You clutch the painting tightly, as if it is life itself.

Moving through the long corridor, you're certain that someone will jump out behind a corner and knock you out, like yesterday. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, almost making you nauseous. You continue through the corridor, over to the hall with the staircases. Your suit has dried blood on it, you look (and feel) manic, will anyone take you seriously?

You freeze as you see a pair of eyes on you. Kry. His blue eyes seem to darken as he notices you, and the painting.

Quickly, you throw yourself into the elevator, and press a random button, wanting the doors to close before Doctor Kry reaches you. And they do, but when you look at the display beside you, you're going the opposite to where you need to go. New plan, you think, I have to sneak into tourist class — or third class, whatever gets you furthest away.

While standing in the elevator, you take a look at the painting to make sure that it hasn’t been damaged in this mess. You turn it around to inspect the canvas and notice something stuck in the corner of the wooden brackets. Carefully, you reach your fingers in and pull out a folded paper. Tucking the painting between your arm and your waist, you unfold the paper to find a list of names and locations … some of which you recognize. They’re all wanted criminals and you guess that the ones you don’t recognize are criminals as well. And the locations …

Your body goes cold and stiff. For a few moments, it feels like the entire world has stopped spinning. This is suddenly more serious than you could ever expect. Quickly, you put the paper in the pocket of your black pants.

You make your way through corridors you haven’t been in before, through doors you’re sure you’re not allowed through. You can’t help but look around at the new environment. Despite being one of Normandie’s lower classes, the attention to detail had been given to every centimeter of the ship. 

Focus!

You’re not sure where you’re going, but you need to find someone that can help you. You consider giving it to a random passenger and ask them to give them to an officer, but in your entire training, you have been told not to pull innocent civilians into your job. They could get seriously hurt and it would be completely your own fault. 

You make your way through tourist class, making sure not to be seen by anyone. If Silas have more people than you thought, why wouldn’t they be in multiple classes? You’re not even sure why the painting have caused this big of a commotion, but there’s no way you can give up the painting now — not after everything you’ve gone through. Your head is still pounding from the glass bottle and your heart beating out of your chest by the sight of Doctor Kry. He knows that you’re roaming freely, and soon, they all will know … and they will look for you. Silas’s words still ring in your ear; “I would very much like for you to see what we do to you if you decide to break free” — well you surely don’t. But where can one run where the space is limited? It’s not like you can grab a lifeboat and sail your way to safety. The sea can be just as dangerous as the people you’re dealing with. 

You look around for someone in black uniform, desperately wanting to find someone to help you before you get a bullet through your head. Finally, you find a steward carrying a metal tray. Like lightning had struck through you, you barge forward and grab his arm. 

“Sir, you have to help me!” you hiss and pull him into an empty corridor. 

“What are you doing-?” he gasps. 

“Please listen and listen quickly”, you whisper in pure panic. The words fall out of your mouth incoherently, but you somehow manage to create the sentences you need for the steward to listen to you. “I have to get to the Captain! Like … now! It’s really, really urgent! Please, just trust me!”

You look around with wide eyes, heart now pounding in your throat. The steward nods in confusion and signals for you to come with him. You’re not sure why he decides to trust you, but you’re ever so grateful for it. He takes you through hidden passages used for staff so that none of the paying passengers will have to see them, up a couple of steep stairs and through some more doors. You hug the painting tightly against your roaring chest. Every corner makes your heart stop, terrified that someone will stand on the other side and knock you out the second you turn. 

The steward points at a door with a golden sign on it — ‘Officers’ quarters’. You pound on the door until you’re sure your knuckles bleed. A stern looking man in neat uniform opens, giving you a dark look. 

“Who are you?” he questions. “What do you want?”

“I’m Y/N L/N, I’m an agent of the crown and this is the missing painting that has been all over the news … you have to keep it secure until we reach New York.”

The officer looks confused as he takes the painting in his hands and lets you into the quarters. 

“You’re bloody, what happened to you, sir?”

“There’s six passengers — Mr Achilleos and his man, His Majesty Edmund of Vesanus, Doctor Karl Kry, Miss Hedwig Carter and Miss Jerry Kim. They knocked me out and kept me in a cabin the entire night. They’re working together. They want this painting …”

… and probably my life by now.

“ … keep it safe”, you beg the officer and feel your voice quiver. “Please. If i can’t meet you at the harbor when we dock tomorrow, please give it to my contact — I will write down his name —  and tell him that he can find further information on board the ship.”

“I will tell the captain about the passengers, they will be taken care of and kept in arrest until we reach land where the police will deal with them”, the officer says.

“Thank you. A lot. Really.”

“You can stay here if you want.”

You feel for the note in your pocket and shake your head. “I have to do something first.”

The officer nodded. On shaky legs, you open the door and walk out into the corridor again. The steward is long gone and you’re alone in an unfamiliar corridor. You suddenly feel exhausted and decide to stay close to the door for a few moments to catch your breath, as if the officers’ quarter was a safe place. 

The note has to be hidden somewhere across the ship so that your contact can find it in case you don’t make it out alive. The note is more important than the painting and can, under no circumstances, go in the wrong hands. These names have to reach your contact. The group will look for the painting in belief that the note is still there, so the note has to be hidden separately so that they won’t find it. 

You make your way through the corridors slowly, making sure not to be caught with the list of names on you. In a weird, panic filled daze, you make your way through corridors, through lounges and dining halls where you hide the note. Underneath a chair, stuck to the corner. You deice to find your way back to the officers’ quarters and somehow find yourself out on deck. The wind is grabbing at you, pulling you left and right. You have a hard time keeping yourself on your feet. No one else is outside and you suspect it has to do with the fact that it’s early in the morning and the dark gray sky above you threat of rain.

“Y/N, don’t move.”

You turn to see the second in command with a gun in his hand.

“If you shoot me you'll ruin your life”, you say to him as confidentially as you can muster, but you can't help but worry if he's going to pull the trigger. 

“Do you think I care?” the second in command questions with a scoff. “I serve my boss until my last breath, I couldn't care less about other trivial matters. Where's the painting?”

“You don't care for the painting. Ask me instead where the note is.”

His eyebrow twitches.

“You know about the note, huh?” he says, eyes narrowing. “Seems like I'll have to get that out of you.”

“Why don't you have your boss do it? Or is he in arrest?”

“Don't worry about him, he always comes out on top. Come with me now or I will shoot you-”

“Shoot me then. The note is hidden and the painting is with trusted people.”

“Idiot. Do you think I was born yesterday? If I shoot you, I can't get the note. You may be stupid, but i dont think youre careless enough To sacrifice yourself for such a trivial thing. Get over here. Now.”

You're unarmed and alone, but if there's one thing you've been taught, it is to not give up without a fight. Your eyes catch onto an officer patrolling the upper deck and whistle. As the second in command takes his eyes off of you, you dive head first into the swimming pool. From his perspective, you don't think — wish — that he sees the man above him. The water wraps around you like a cold blanket and for a few seconds you can't even feel the wetness, only biting cold that almost makes you gasp under the surface. Somewhere, you think that you can hear a gunshot and see something whooshing past you in the water. And then another, and another. And then nothing.

You don't return to the surface until you're sure that the bullet rain has stopped. Your burning lungs gasp for air and you grip the ladder to your left. The second in command has been wrestled down on the deck by the same officer you saw. A smile tugs at your lips as the second in command glares at you from the floor, smashed against the planks.

“Sir, are you alright?” the officer asks, panting.

“I'm okay”, you reply, panting heavier.

An ice cold wind cuts right through you.

“Go inside”, the officer tells you.

“Y/N!” the second in command shouts as you've started to walk. “Don't forget that there are more. You barely know half of the people we have on board. Don't think for a second that you are safe!”

You pretend not to hear him and make your way inside for warmth. Unsure of where to go because of the second in command’s words, you return to the officers’ quarters.

That evening, you make your way down to the arrest. There are still two questions you haven’t gotten an answer to. You've gotten your gun back from a steward and have tucked it in your blazer. Nausea is eating you up from the inside as you walk into the room, watching the cell and its habitants.

“Look who it is”, you hear Jerry snicker. “Change your mind, Golden Boy? Do you want us out?”

You don't even bother to answer.

“The painting is in a safe place, and so are the note”, you say. “I suppose that Jerry, Silas and your second in command wanted the note and not the painting … and Edmund and Hedwig wanted the painting … but what did the Doctor want?”

“Me?” Kry asks coldly and walks over to the bars with his arms crossed. “What I wanted?”

“Yes”, you reply.

“You, of course. Imagine, my own little lab rat that I could do whatever I wanted with … no one would even bat an eye if both you and the painting disappeared.”

“You won't get any of it.” You let your eyes wander over the six people. “Not the painting, not the note, and absolutely not me. Jail is what you will get.”

You can hear Hedwig start to sob in the corner of the cell. She has sunken down along the wall with her head hanging between her knees, body shaking with sobs. Edmund sighs and walks over to her side, grabbing her shoulders and trying to pull her up on her feet.

“Don't cry”, he says quietly. “We won't go to jail, I will make sure of that. I won't allow it.”

“Did you just come down here to revel in our misery?” Silas asks you. 

You're not sure why you came down here. Did you want to make sure to yourself that they were behind bars? Or make you feel more powerful? Or even just get to see them?

“You do know that we will have our revenge, don’t you?” Edmund says and looks at you. “This is not the end.”

“I hope that you like being a dog, because that's what you're going to be, leash and all”, Silas scoffs.

“Tattooed”, Jerry adds on with a tilted smile. “Marked. Would Golden boy like that?”

You ignore her, and walk over to the cells bars, eyes glued onto Hedwig. 

“What were you doing in my cabin?” you ask. 

She freezes, looking cluelessly at you through her teary eyes.

“What?” she asks in shock. 

“Your perfume was all over my cabin”, you say coldly. “Why were you in my cabin?”

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N!” she cries and runs over to the bars, reaching out for you. 

You back away.

“I’m sorry, I-I … I looked through your things. I couldn’t help it, I just … I really, really wanted to hold you. I didn’t take anything, I promise! Please believe me, Y/N, I just wanted to- … it doesn’t matter. Forgive me.”

You don’t answer. Maybe Hedwig isn’t as sweet and innocent as you thought. 

DAY 4 — End of voyage

After your hell night last night you couldn't be more grateful for the somewhat pleasant night you had. Every single sound and movement woke you up, preparing you to see one of the six criminals or their acquaintances. And since a ship is in constant movement and makes sounds only God knows about, you barely slept for an hour straight. But at least you were in a warm bed.

You can't eat anything during breakfast. You stare at the sandwich and steaming coffee in front of you with a twisted stomach. The room is filled with passengers, like normal, but the bright room can’t be more dark and sinister. It is as if someone has drained it of color. Any of the smiling guests can be one that want to put a bullet through your skull, and is waiting for you to rise from your chair and follow you outside.

When a waiter comes over to your table, the coffee has stopped steaming. 

“Good morning, sir”, he says politely and places a silver tray with a silver cloche on your table. 

“What is this?” you ask in confusion. 

“A gentleman told me to give this to you. He has paid for it and everything.”

With that said, he smiles and walks away to continue his job. You glance down at the dome looking metal and feel your heart sink. Although you don’t want to, your heart reaches out to pull it away and reveal whatever is lying on the silver tray underneath. You’re not sure what you are expecting but a small, folded paper is certainly not it. As if on autopilot, you open the paper to see only a line. 

“We will be waiting for you when we dock, you won’t get past us. We are watching you.”

You were right. A knot appears in your throat. Your legs go numb. You will be killed. 

The air is hard to breathe in and you have to get out before you suffocate. You get out on the deck with the lifeboats hanging above your head and lean against the railing. In a few hours, Normandie would dock and you would be caught. You’re not sure that the steward who had helped you before would be able to save you, and you don’t want to put him in more danger … but you can’t step off the ship in New York’s harbor. The lifeboat above your head gives you an idea. A stupid, right out ridiculous idea … 

You look around you before your shaking hands release the lifeboat from its holds. You have been taught the most outrageous things to rescue yourself — including lowering an ocean liner’s lifeboat. The davits slowly bring the lifeboat downwards and you climb in, lying down to avoid being seen. Your body trembles with fear, unsure of what this will bring you … or where it will bring you. 

There's nothing on the ship that you should bring with you. There's no guarantee that the lifeboat will reach the harbor safely, but its a try. The painting will be more secure with the steward. 

You feel a ‘thump’ from when the lifeboat hits the waves underneath you. You see how Normandie towers above you, the black steel never seeming to end. A pair of heads stick out from the side and something hits the water beside you. Quickly, you cover your body with your arms and legs, curling up until all vital organs are covered. Hitting you with bullets on this distance are harder than one can think, but not impossible. The second you’re sure that they can’t reach you, you get up and start to paddle. If the men tell a steward about the missing lifeboat, they’ll steer their ship over here to get you. 

Your arms quickly grow sore. From now on, you’re entirely alone. There’s no one to save you in case anything happens and you will have to find your way to land by yourself. But it's better than being on board the ship.

The sea around you feels abnormally calm. There’s no distinctive sounds apart from the waves hitting the side of the lifeboat. 

You sit for a moment, taking the time to think. This case has been different from all the others you have done. More personal than you could ever have anticipated. You’re not sure why, but something with this case told you that things wouldn’t be over if they got their way. It was more than just materia, they want you too … to use as they please. Doctor Kry was right. Who would bat an eye if you disappeared along with the painting? They wouldn’t call it a kidnapping, it would be a disappearance that could be explained by the painting. And now they have none of it. Not the painting, not the list of criminals and not you. Pretty successful, you think. Maybe you succeeded this mission after all? 

You hiss as you touch your sensitive head. You’ll have to find a doctor in New York.

Hours go by. You row, you rest, row, rest, row, rest. Throw up. Damn if you have gotten a concussion, you think, but it’s probably just the sea air making you nauseous. 

How things had turned out. You thought that you would have had to deal with one or two criminals … not six. Ad how Silas had seen right through you … 

It’s over now. It will be over soon. Is it over?

You continue to row. 

in the distance, you see a fishing ship pulling up their net and you wave with your arms in hope for them to see you, which they inevitably do. Your exhausted, cold body is picked up and wrapped in an old blanket. 

“What were you doing out in a lifeboat like that?” one of the old sailors asks. “Which ship has sunk?”

“It’s the Normandie!” another one says as he reads the name on the wooden planks. “Has the Normandie sunk?!”

You tell them that it hasn’t suck — in fact, it’s steaming on better ad stronger than ever — but that an accident had happened, which resulted in you all alone in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean. 

They give you a yellow rain coat that you use to hide in and join the sailors to New York’s harbor that evening. In the distance, you see the different ocean liner piers. Cunard-White Star Line, United States Lines, HAPAG, Italian Lines, Swedish-American Lines … and finally, Compagnie Générale Transatlantique. Normandie was towering above all the other liners and you stood there on the pier, looking at it. Four days ago, you had been standing in the harbor at Le Havre and been excited to step on board. But now, that you are looking at it from afar, in the dim lights, there’s something unsettling about the her. It looks like she’s apologizing to you for everything that she allowed to happen between her walls. You almost start to cry. 

You turn around and walk without giving the ship one more glance, hoping that it will be the last time you get to see the Normandie. 

You meet up with your contact in a small warehouse that following morning and tell him what you have hidden on the ship. He promises to retrieve it. He already has the painting and has secured it, had gotten it from the very steward you had left it with. 

“I have something else too”, he says and gives you an apologetic look. 

“What?” you ask and watch him closely as he takes out a paper from his pocket. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You open the paper and feel your blood go icy cold. The handwriting is unfamiliar, but the nickname you see written in black …

“Thought you could lock us in? Think twice, Golden boy, we’re already out. We’ll find you, be so sure of that. Don’t think that we will let you slip away. You will look good in a leash.

S.A”

You fold the paper just as quick and breathe out a shaky breath. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N, you will be protected”, your contact promises. “It will not be any problem, I assure you.”

With the six people’s contacts and power, you doubt that your protection will do much, but you nod. The painting is safe and the note is safe. They may have escaped jail and are looking for you, but you succeeded with your mission. And that is all that matters.

[the-main-daine]

Life Series Character Renders:

Featuring Martyn, Mumbo and Pearl

(I actually have quite a lot to say about two of these this time.)

Martyn:

Human.... ish. Hear me out on this one:

So Martyn has this fascinating background lore to the Life Series called Watcher/Eyes and Ears Lore. I'm quietly obsessed with this.

I love watching his lore streams after every series, and have come up with a few theories on my own: His thumbnails are always fully illustrated, so his character has a canon 'look' for every season, which I think is just, deeply cool.

But in his lore, there's also this space between SMPs, where the Watchers kind of... hold people until they can be used again. And since Martyn is the protagonist of the very cool story he's writing, I got it in my head that in this space between, Martyn isn't QUITE human. Maybe he was at one point.

Maybe he never was, I don't know.

But alongside all the cracks and stuff that have started to show up on his body; there's seams along the joints, and light shining within, as he starts to become more befitting as a vessel.

A vessel for what? No idea. I probably won't be drawing all those seams in any fanart comics of the series themselves - I imagine they get covered up when he's sent out into the world to interact with others in various SMPs - but I thought the idea was too cool not to draw at least once.

As a past winner, he gets his crown, and the burning eye of Mars by his name.

Mumbo:

Vampire Mumbo!

I know he doesn't have the grey streak in his life series skin but I love it too much I'm keeping it forever.

It makes him look so much more threatening and serious than he is.

Poor Mumbo. I was really rooting for you buddy. Better luck next series!

At least he still does damage with those End Crystals.

Pearl:

A lunar moth

As a winner, she gets her crown, and she gets her moon.

I'm not going to lie I want that lunar moth hoodie more than anything.

I had a lot of fun with Pearl: Her skin design is so simple (Well, maybe not this season, but usually) that it leaves so much room to interpret it. She's always going around with dogs, making her wolfish would've been really easy, but I think Moth suits her more.

There's a lot of mythology with moths being a little off kilter, mad, or leading people to madness that I think fits with Pearl's tendency to be a little bit of a loose canon, wild and unpredictable. Like a moth's flight patterns.

Red Hood Pearl had to put in an appearance here, especially with how it's sort of creeping to overtake her in Wild Life this season, and she just gets so earnestly threatening when she's on a red life despite still being all smiles and all laughs.

Unlike Gem or Cleo, I think there's an edge to Pearlie Pop on red that just reminds me of a horror monster, in the best, best, best way.

I haven't figured out heights but she's also the tallest.

[astralnymphh]

ROBINS EGG BLUE

⤹ . moments with domestic!ellie x pregnant!reader

WC; 1.07k

⤹ . content; fluff, lovey–dovey, may cause baby fever or heartwarmed tears to swell, reader discretion is advised ౨ৎ

pregnancy is infuriating as not being able to comb your hair thoroughly. there is always a fat fucking knot to stem the fluid moment thereof– just as there lies a fat, fleshy boulder fastened to your stomach for a gruelingly long nine months. the bulge of your belly button has witnessed most of three seasons, and you weren't buoyantly idling around for the fourth to appear. this baby– this little devil, needs to get the hell out of dodge.

from the chagrin of a pair of jeans failing to button at the hips, straining the seams as you pull that fly parallel to your mother yanking the poor hairs from your scalp with a paddle brush– to the fleeting aggro nearby popping a blood vessel you feel when arguing with your wife, ellie, about some nonsensical, fruitless or futile dispute about what wallpaper pattern best suits the small dimensions of the nursey– pink and pearl striped with roses or robins egg blue and beige striped with roses, ellie continuously states "they're basically the same baby, i don't see what all the fuss is about." or whether ellie should throw in a batch of dino nuggets or regular nuggets cause the taste totally isn't the same, the shape definitely impacts how salty it is to your tongue, illogical banters.

but ellie will still be your loving, selfless, fond, and doting wife. your number one. apple of your eye. stupid auburn–haired heartthrob. you name it. through thick and thin of your expanding belly, she will always be the first palm to greet your baby in the morning, plastering her blanket–hot hand just beneath your navel and pressing her sweat damp fingerprints dimpling into your stomach, bending her index lightly into the petunia purple stretchmarks that vertically dip into your hips, waiting for minutes in the virgin sun morning for your baby to kick. literally, she has abandoned her old forenoon routine just to feel that first thump on her hand. and when it finally does happen, a little pounce vibrating beneath her palm lines– her fingers twitch lightly and a smile immediately crafts upon her rose lips, purring excitedly upon the fringe of your ear, words that only your snoozing brain with hark, "huh, see? he knows who his mama is– told ya."

but, ahh, stretchmarks.

she adores those little lightning marks lacing your belly– you on the other hand, thought the contrary, to which that husky fry would remind you, "ts' cause y'gotta baby growing in there, yeah? ours." flowing past the pouty berry lips so adamant on plowing kisses to the span of your scruff, ghosting them dry over the fine threadlike hairs with a pitched promise to never let you– or your belly go.

or, goddess, that one time ellie insisted you sit on the couch while she played her acoustic guitar, denting her fingertips with the strings as she plucks, subtly leaning the bay oak instrument closer to your belly so the baby would pick up those hollowed notes vibrating through the air. the fattest smirk would mushroom those cheeks to hug her nose– grooving those nasal lines to encase the thin curve of a smile, deepening at the corners. you even recall the dorkiest shit ever, how it carried to your ears out of the blue and left you pinching brow lines of amusement, "gonna' play this lil' guy guitar everyday– hey, d'ya think if i do that, he'll come out already knowing how to play?" spoken on a smokey chord, glancing up at you through lashes slightly downturned due to her facing the belly, directly. you told her with a sigh, "ellie, that is not how it works." dumbly smirking back, and she replied, "what? c'mon, maybe if i play electric, he'll be born a rockstar!" squeezing her voice with silly enthusiasm. a roll of your head cracks your neck, dangling back to barb, "you are ten times the idiot than you were yesterday." cause, well, she's constantly spewing the dopiest ideas. next thing you knew, she was rasping, "m'your fuckin' idiot." that cheesy motherfucker, slinking her guitar off the round of her thigh and stowing it at the sofa's footing, lurking forward on all fours to tackle your belly with bespattering kisses, moist and fiendish as ever.

infuriating was the task of putting socks on. fucking socks. the effortless effort that would usually clock you under ten seconds, moreso felt like ten eons. "ughh!" you would grunt from the depths of your compact lungs, extending two zombie arms over the blockage of your portly belly, perking the ears of ellie who was just in the abutting room, walls thin enough to bombard with sound. she whips around the door trim, leaning her lank weight away from it and cocking her head, distinguishing the predicament you had landed two feet in. a dry chuckle sounds from yonder the room, trailed by her honeyed resound, "need sum' help babe?" which, to her, falls to strike as a question– au contraire, soft, padded footsteps of feet who already had socks on, lucky them, carries ellie over and at your side, crouching with her knees splayed apart like bird's wings, raising hands to politely creep fingers under yours, prying the cottony ball from your grasp and craning it to her chest, sidling in her squat so that she would be an eyeshot vis–à–vis to you, at your beckon practically.

you remained silent, doused in the soft moment before you, yet a little embarrassed you couldn't do it yourself. a raspy, "here's one.." croaks from her throat prior to a hand cupping the ribbed underside of your ankle, tamping it gently into her chest so she could unfurl the sock and roll it up your foot, hedging your toes first with the linty fabric and laying it up the heel, letting the band snap in place– and her fingertips lingered at the ankle, caressing the nub for only a twinkle in time. "and the second one.." she scoops up the other foot, repeating the same tedious tenderness she gave to your other, gliding her hand from your ankle to your knee as she stood up, plating a pressure to the top of your thigh as she leans in, lips first, uttering, "there you go," smacking a puckered kiss to your stagnant lips, whispering upon them, "m'comin' to the bathroom with you. wanna hold him for a bit."

not even wild wolves could tear ellie from your baby, her baby.

[philistiniphagottini]

Oh my gods it's been a hot minute since I popped in. How are you doing love? I hope your days going well. Ive been pretty busy so I haven't had a chance to drop by. May please request from demon slayer Rengoku x chubby reader whos also a fighter but a little spicy? 😈 Man's is giving off vibes of praising, body worship, and a heavy breeding kink in my opinion. Please indulge yourself and me. Go feral my friend >:3 please and thank you 💙

Hi Meri! I'm so happy to see you, thanks for popping in. I'm doing mostly okay, I hope you have been well. And thank you for the request, I'm so happy that you keep coming back and supporting me. Thanks for indulging me, I hope you enjoy :D

cw. smut, penetrative sex, praise, body worship, breeding kink, female reader, chubby reader, MDNI

You could barely think; scarcely breathe under the insistent press of Rengoku’s searing body on top of yours. A salacious moan tickled the back of your throat as he bumped his hips into yours, thrusting his achingly hard cock deeper into your fat pussy. You whined and twisted between the sweat soaked sheets beneath you, fingers knotting in his wild mane of flaming locks as heat coiled in the pit of your stomach. 

"Ahh, Ren~" you whined, choking on a hiccup of pleasure. 

Rengoku hummed in response to your soft coos, spit soaked lips parted around moans of your name as it rolled around his mouth and warmed his parched throat like sticky sweet honey. Your trembling legs were pushed higher, knees pressing into the pillowy softness of your chest as your pebbling nipples brushed against your clammy skin, sending pleasant tingles to ripple along the curve of your arching back. Rengoku’s strong hands curled around your plump thighs, calloused fingers sinking into generous amounts of flesh until the soft pudge spilled between the splayed digits. The erotic sight made him grind into your harder. The tips of your ears burned red hot as your long, soused lashes fluttered over your flaming cheeks, another wanton moan crawling out of your throat as his cock sank deeper inside of you. Your dripping pussy swallowed around his dizzyingly thick girth, your insides turning to mush around the shape of his cock as beads of slick rolled down your sticky thighs. 

Your pretty cunt drooled around him as you felt him moving intimately beneath your soft belly, your nails clawing at the nape of his neck as your shuddering hips tried to match the ferocity of his eager thrusts. The hot coil twisting inside of your knotted tighter, the swollen nub of your clit aching and squealing in delight from the sparking friction of Rengoku’s pelvis clapping into the exposed nerve. You struggled to prevent your eyes from rolling into the back of your skull, your head stuffed full with so much cotton you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone sentence. Your pussy squeezed around Rengoku as he slipped deeper, brushing up against the soft, gummy patch inside of you that had stars swirling in your vision. 

"Good girl" Rengoku cooed, his voice just a tad too loud rattling in your ears. "You’re doing so well, little cherub."

His words made your pussy slobber over him, pearls of your arousal dripping down the sides of his cock as he split apart the creamy folds of your silky lips with each hard thrust of his hips. A constellation of tears clung to the edges of your lashes, your body trembling along with the shaking bed frame as your combined noises of pleasure echoed around your stuffy bedroom. Rengoku refused to stifle himself, especially when you made him feel so good it felt like a vessel inside his head was ready to burst. His loud and gruff voice almost drowned out your own sweet cries of rapture, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin making your blood simmer hotly in your veins. Your toes curled into the soles of your feet as the weeping head of his cock kissed your cervix, your arousal webbing between your bodies joined in fervid rapture as your body teetered on the edge of the crumbling precipice. You dug your fingers into the hard muscles of his back, feeling them flex under your touch as his cock carved a path deeper into your plush walls. You whined loudly; pussy clenching tight as you peeled your tongue off the roof of your mouth long enough to spit the words out that were lodged in the back of your throat.

"Ren…fuck…I’m so close" you cried with a heady slur. "Please cum inside me. Want your cum. Breed my pussy. Put a baby in me."

Your babbles were cut short as he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue lashing at the plump seam of your lips as the pace of his hips became erratic. He purred in content as you continued to whine, the thought of your soft belly round with his child sending his senses into a complete frenzy. You lazily sucked on his tongue as his hands pawed at your sumptuous body, worshiping every inch of you as words of praise were breathed into your mouth and you swallowed it along with the budding saliva on your tongue. Your head was spinning, heart beat wavering in your ears as your lungs pinched in your chest. Your feet dangled uselessly over Rengoku’s shoulders as the thick head of his cock squished against the opening of your womb, a deep chuckle breezing past his lips as you screamed with rapture. 

"That’s it pretty girl" he cooed with a dopey grin. "Just lay there and let me breed your pussy~"

Your ears burned from the filthy talk, nails leaving behind crescent shaped welts along his back as you held on for dear life. You screamed loudly as the coil in your stomach shattered in a million fragments, flooding your veins with white hot relief that made the tips of your fingers go numb. Fireworks erupted in your stomach as the warm hug of your pussy squeezed around Rengoku tighter, your slick juices spilling forth and coating his strong thighs with threads of translucent fluid. Rengoku groaned hotly as your pussy milked him, coaxing him into his own heady rush as he buried himself to the hilt inside your sopping pussy. You mewled with delight as thick ropes of white spilled into you, your abdomen tingling as you continued to ride the pleasure high. His cock kicked with each heavy spurt of cum, filling your insides with warmth until some of it started to drip out in thick rivulets. 

Rengoku’s rhythm started to taper off as he kissed your hot cheeks, stemming the flows of your crystalline tears of pleasure as he circled his hips, cock still hard and throbbing as he filled you with another sticky load into your chubby pussy. You felt pleasantly helpless beneath him as your greedy pussy twitched and spasmed around his cock, determined to milk every last drop. The warmth overflowed and dribbled down your quaking thighs, your pussy still clenching tight around Rengoku's cock as it kept your centre plugged and stuffed full. His hard pants mingled with your own laboured breathing as he slowly placed your shaky legs back to the mattress. He brushed strands of damp hair off your face as he leaned forward, his forehead bumping against yours as your noses touched. His hand fondly stroked your round stomach as you purred in content beneath him, hands rubbing soothing circles into the notches of his spine. It was quiet and peaceful; a moment of shared bliss as your senses slowly crawled back to you. 

A noise of surprise stirred in Rengoku’s throat as you wrapped your plump thighs around his hips and suddenly flipped your positions. His body bounced as he hit the mattress with a dull thud, your plump body nestling on top of him as you sat down on his cock with a little wriggle of your hips. You rested your hands on his chest as you trapped him beneath the luscious curves of your body, his thunderous heartbeat pulsing beneath your fingers as you drummed them along his clammy skin. His hands came to rest upon your plush thighs as you blinked down at him with doe eyes, ears perked up as a soft smile tilted your lips.

"Wanna do it again?" you asked, a hint of hopeful eagerness in your voice. 

Rengoku’s boisterous laughter filled the air, followed by your delighted giggles as you were rocked in his lap.

[looney-mooney-studio]

Linda Flynn Fletcher/Linda Cipher throughout the years! Full image ID under the cut cuz there’s a lot of text to transcribe lol

New Astrophysicist: Eager to start her new career! Wants to prove herself after Lindana’s legacy. Craves fame on her own terms. Willing to do WHATEVER it takes! Silver jewelry. Silver star shaped earrings. Purple headband. Colorful striped shirt. Purple choker necklace. White Labcoat. Bell bottom blue jeans. Shoulder length red hair.

Dating Bill: more confident in self and career. Starts dressing more professionally, without sacrificing personal sense of style. Starts wearing gold jewelry. Yellow button up shirt. Gold triangular earrings. Yellow headband. Black choker necklace. Blue jeans. White lab coat.

Possessed by Bill: PARTY GIRL! Colleagues just think this is what she’s like when she’s drunk. Acts kinda slutty? MESSY HAIR (Bill’s not used to vessels with so much hair, so he keeps messing with it.) lineart different - more Gravity Falls style than Dwampyverse style. Doesn’t know how to wear a shirt. Lost a shoe - Linda will have to find it later. Mostly same as last design, but without the labcoat.

Pregnant: hair grows faster during pregnancy. Shows off her belly! Patches clothes - Bill starts breaking things, but she blames their body’s hormones. Design is same for both pregnancies because she just reuses her old pregnancy clothes. Same “dating bill” design, but with longer hair, a crop top, and a green patch on her blue jeans. Gold wedding ring.

Full Bill Cultist: Dresses more and more like Ford. Invests in hippy stuff. More obvious about being with Bill. Colleagues think she’s starting to go a little bit nuts, but can’t argue with her results. Red turtleneck. Tan jacket. Shoulder pads. Black slacks. Brown sneakers. Gold triangle earrings. Gold headband. Gold beaded necklace with a big triangular bill cipher charm. Gold wedding ring.

Post Breakup: doesn’t take care of self. Ironically looks more like if Bill were possessing her. Still wears yellow, but it’s washed-out. Her relationship with Bill is broken, but still fresh. Tired, trying not to sleep a whole lot. Caffeine addict. Messy hair. Green headband. Green flannel jacket. Yellow t-shirt. Tan cargo pants. Green sneakers. TIRED.

Dating Lawrence: letting herself be a little bit cringe. Having fun! Reminding herself of things she enjoys outside of what she did with Bill, like music and fiber arts. No yellow OR red. She’s being DIFFERENT for a little while. Pony tail. Black scrunchy. Teal sweater dress. White belt.black leggings. Purple leg warmers. Black sneakers. Clunky upside down teal teardrop earrings.

Now: wears yellow again, but on her OWN terms now. Isn’t afraid anymore. Trying out new things! Opted out of rings with Lawrence. They have antique lockets instead. Whole family has them, including a custom-made locket for Perry. Takes a lot of classes. Content to be a stay-at-home mom with a lot of hobbies. Her career isn’t important to her anymore, she doesn’t even have one. She’s FREE. White short sleeved button up shirt. Yellow sweater vest. Green khakis. Yellow orthopedic shoes. Peach colored headband. Teal pearl earrings.

[ginjones]

“What did Apollo dream of?” Asks Hob, his voice a questing note which brushes the curve of Dream’s ear. He lies in naked warmth across the corded thew of his back, breathing life into marble. Breathing for them both. They had stayed this way for hours. Swathed together in the casual rituals of Sunday. An indulgent afternoon spent riding the blissful peaks of orgasm. Fragments of time dissolving into the peony blush of an August sunset.

Muscles tense beneath him and for a moment, Hob wants to swallow his words. The question has come too early. He should have waited. Let another century pass in quiet restraint for answers to fall unbidden. Then Dream moves under him with tectonic force, and every muscle rolls to bear his weight with ease. Impassive eyes stare blankly up.

“Music,” Dream states simply and then, after a pause “how the notes of a Lyre might soar and scatter their seed in the wheat fields of Crete. He dreamed the way God’s dream. With intent.”

“Oh.” Hob replies, “…alright.” He is not sure how to take this or for what answer he had hoped.

When Dream had returned to him in the bright glory of a June afternoon, had called him friend and sat in alignment on the seat of a twin chair, he had felt himself exalted. Then came the gifts of a name, several in fact, and the first offering of answers. That he had lain at the base of a glass sphere for 133 years. That he had missed the sound of birds taking flight. That blood will turn a dark sepia if left to stain a cold stone floor. Hob had felt the brush of fingers to his palm then. He had felt each subtle contact point of hands, of wrists, of legs. He had said nothing. Dream, he had told him, is in the process of rebuilding.

Hob gives himself freely to this process. By July the casual touches had transformed into weekly rituals where, in the summer heat of his flat upstairs, they had venerated each other in the arching of bodies, in the twisting of limbs. In warmth. In wetness. In light.

Dream looks up at him now, the light of ancient stars reflecting in his eyes. He smiles faintly. “I have had many lovers, Hob”. And he knows this. He knows. But he wants to know more. He wants to unwind the tangled eons of his being and find the subtle frays of conquest. To trace the heart line of his relations with the gods of another age. To wonder perhaps, what they felt like to this impossible creature who, after making himself a willing body, became the vessel for their dreams.

And his traitorous mind will not stop its reckless imaginings. Of perfect bodies mounting each other with graceful fluidity. Rutting for hours, decadent in the gleam of their own transcendent   splendour. He regards his own body then and finds it lacking. And yet, to trace the distant lands of Dream’s past is to know him, fondly, completely. He holds the envious blade to his heart and smiles. 

“I want to show you something,” Hob says, “Wait here.”

He rises from the alter of the bed to gather the offerings of books. Stories told by others to share. Hutton’s Queens of the Wild, a battered copy of Lexicon Iconographicum Mythologiae Classiciae he had bought second-hand in Cambridge. Human tales to dying gods who wait, in the tomb of the earth, for idolatrous rebirth. He places them down kindly and wraps himself again in the comfort of the bed.

Seraphic black eyes glance over the pages for the briefest of seconds before one is turned, then another and Hob realises this is how Dream processes information. So that entire books could be read in minutes; knowledge subsumed, taken inwards, and swallowed whole. Each story catalogued and reformed as a star in the nightscape consciousness of the collective unconscious.

“And what about Brigid?” Hob asks again, brushing a finger over the image of a woodcut in Hutton’s book. Dream’s body curves towards him; the pale crescent of a waning moon.

“Protection to those who would adorn her with the pearls of their words. Love given at a price. She was triple natured and dreamt of sacraments in milk and blood.”

He imagines the proud swell of her breasts and the lustrous warmth of her sex. How Dream might have laid her down among the richness of the living earth, her legs parting in mimicry of the unfurling of shivering leaves. How he might have bent to kiss the curve of her fruiting form and then, with the surge of yellow iris and bloodied poppies their consummation would sing in the arrival of spring.

Dream watches him closely with the subtle glimpse of a frown. His features correct themselves back to unspoilt marble. He glances back at the book.

Hours pass, or maybe days, and Dream is feeding him grapes. He watches with fascination at the ripe burst between his teeth. He places one perfect finger to the corner of his mouth and Hob takes him in. They make love again. Dream edging inside gently; a curtesy that belies the sheer strength of him. His shoulders are the roll of Atlantic waters, his corded muscles the terrain of mountains. Every quiet command to sit or bend down or open for me is the distant promise of a rainstorm. A body made for the pleasure of the divine. In the drop after the rising heat of release, he is reformed in bliss and made anew.

 “And Saturn?” He asks, once more.

It is midnight now. Time hangs suspended from one day till the next. His throat is the frayed edge of a salt slicked rope. Language has come back to him slowly and with it, the recollection that he wants to learn more. He has been placed under soft, dark sheets and held in the willowy bough of cool arms. His world has shrunk to hold nothing but the senses; the smell of his own body, juniper and vetiver. The glow of orange lamplight casting shadows on the wall. The delicate ache of muscles. The sound of distant voices rises thorough the stone of buildings, the wood of floorboard.

Dream is under the blankets with him too. He opens his eyes; sapphire bright.

“Unwavering devotion despite the hardships of capricious seasons. To be fed the rich loam of toil. Saturnalia was a decedent celebration, but his worshippers did not sleep. They turned away from my realm to follow the ghost of his words.”

“And you’re okay with me not being…Like; you don’t mind if I’m not someone one who could…”  Be a god for you, He thinks. Be better than I am. Be good enough to keep you.

Dream graces him with the rarity of a true smile and moves to close the distance. He is pulled to rest his head in the cove of a moonlit scapula. He is held there in silence; Dream placing a hand to the soft warmth of his stomach then tracing the thick trail of chestnut hair that leads down towards his pubis. He nuzzles into the crook of his neck and Hob can feel the subtle sensation of air. Dream is breathing him in. In this sanctuary they have created for themselves he is reminded of several moments. Where Dream, bathed in morning light, has watched him butter bread, or rinse dishes, or change tracks on a playlist to find a favourite song. He has watched him water plants, watched him eat. Has asked, several times in fact, to place a hand to the bob of his throat when he swallows. Sometimes, when he has woken from the swell of sleep, he finds Dream’s attentions on the aura- space around him. His eyes lit from the inside, tracing the phantom movements of some unseen, imperceptible thing. Half asleep still, he has seen Dream move a hand through the gloaming air in a dextrous swirl of intent. Capturing something, examining it, then looking back at him. You dream such wonderful things.

And here, resting together, Dream’s voice brushes the curve of his ear.

“You are more than a god, Hob. You are human.”

@softest-punk

[aylish91]

Just wanted to say i rlly love the way you write leviathan nightmare sans, i keep going back to reread ur writing about him 😍

Thank you so much Anon!!! This really means a lot to me! Sorry it took me so long to respond. I had a blip in the works I finished just for you! It might be a bit rough though, haha.

There's been intrigued Nightmare and supportive Nightmare. But now we have:

A Protective Nightmare!

TW for very brief mentions of someone being trapped/strapped down.

~ ~ ~

The ocean was becoming more restless, waves crashing hard against the sides of the Ship. You could faintly hear their raging through the hanger’s door. It caused your water to slosh in your tank as you lay on the bottom. 

Tired. 

You stared across the walkway into Cross’s tank, understanding now the reason for several of his scars. You wanted to weep. He had been forced on his back, almost completely paralyzed while they transported the both of you. Straps held him in place so he couldn’t turn over, sockets void but aware.  

So terribly aware. 

You shouldn’t have gone out so far on your own. You shouldn’t have gotten so close to the lagoon. You definitely shouldn’t have ignored Cross when he eventually found you. You didn’t understand the danger.  

He knew better...  

Things shifted as the boat tipped dangerously to the side. Soon after, alarms blared from behind reflective glass when a deep and angry vibration cut through the ship and the water of your tank.  

You lifted your head as much as you could, hope building within your chest. Cross twitched, faint eyelights reigniting to peer down at the large metal door. You both ignored the shouts that could be heard through the walls. 

The vibration came again, stronger and louder until the boat was slammed with a great force. Machinery and tools flew from their spots. You could feel when the vessel lifted, anything not bolted down rolling and tumbling with a crash.  

Water spilled from both tanks to follow the carnage. However, you could finally hear the words rising from the thundering snarled vibrations. 

“You dare to take what belongs to me!! Dare touch what is mine!” Everything jostled, metal folding under pressure. “For your insolence, you shall all face OBLIVION!!! 

You had to cover your ears from all the noise and chaos around you. Metal tore from blackened claws, bent and broke from massive tentacles. The heavy metal door into your prison was ripped away, revealing Nightmare’s constricted eyelight. Rushing water followed.  

 As movement slowed, you gave a weakened cry of joy at the sight of the boys hastily entering around tightening tentacles. Horror was quick to break both tanks, Killer and Dust releasing Cross to drag him back into open water. Horror carried you out, dodging Nightmare's clawed hand when it rent metal. Your last wakeful moments were of the sinking ship being pulled down into the darkness by a raging leviathan. 

~ ~ ~ 

It was warm and heavy when you woke, a soothing thrum trying to pull you back. If it wasn’t for the subtle shifting around you, you would have. Curling into yourself, you carefully stretched in preparation for waking. 

The world around you constricted, quiet words reaching through your haze. 

“My Pearl. I had thought I’d lost you. My light… My treasure.” 

Your soul leapt for joy, eyes opening to the one you had waited for. The one you had hoped for, voice breaking. 

“Nightmare!” 

Unfurling from your living cocoon you allowed the guardian to cup you in his hands, clutching you to his chest. For the first time, his stoic face distorted from emotion as he whispered your name. Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes, as you finally allowed yourself to let go, curling and pressing into his warmth. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, to, and Cross!” 

Nightmare held you tighter, safe from all the terrors around you. “Shhhh. All is well. You both are home now. Just, stay with me. I will keep you safe.” 

You clung tighter. “Please. Don’t let go.” 

He sank down into his own tentacles, barricading you from the outside. “Never… Not again…” 

Leviathan Master List Grand Master Post

[lexical-lushes]

A Story About You

You’re trembling, so I give your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be alright,” I promise sincerely, “You’re almost there. Just a little longer, just this one last thing.”

You return a shaky nod, a weak smile, and together we turn our attention back to my Maker. Your Maker too, soon. Her cloak of feathers trails behind her as she finishes lighting the candles one by one, a long, slender match clutched delicately between her talons, flickering shadows licking at the edges of the room, lapping against us as we stand before the altar.

She asks you if you’re ready, and you hesitate a moment longer than she can permit without question.

“We can still stop, dear...? It’s an awful lot to ask of you, to come this far. I’ll understand.”

Hand still clutching my own, skin to porcelain skin, you shake your head with a quiet, admirable determination. You have come this far. What would be the point if you backed out now?

My Maker beckons us forwards, and side by side we walk up the shallow steps. My body is steady, but my mind is racing with excitement – she trusts me enough to help with this, to assist her in making you hers as well.

No doubt your pulse is racing plenty enough for the both of us. Don’t worry. Before long, you’ll know the same peace I do, the same steady tick of a metronome to replace the erratic thump of a heart.

Using my hand to steady yourself, you settle into the iron throne upon the altar, almost but not quite hiding the wince as I let go and my Maker ties the straps tight around your limbs, your chest, anchoring you steadily in place.

“I’ll be right here,” I reassure you. “Nearly over.”

My Maker nods, long fingers brushing through both our hair, and I watch as she leans in over top of you to whisper something in your ear, the words hidden behind her hair, her feathers.

It’s all so familiar, and I hope you feel just as excited as I did when I was in your place – I remember the reassurances, the things she told me. I remember the fear, the anxiety, and yes, the giddiness of my Maker telling me it’s just a little bit like dying, dear. A pinch, a fading, and then you’ll be safe and sound.

I remember how I found that little pearl of certainty inside me that this was what I needed, a thought to grab onto tightly and steady myself against what came next with.

When she pulls away your eyes are closed and you let out a deep, slow breath, let all the tension drain out of your body. You’re ready.

I watch in rapt attention as my Maker begins her work, aligning conduits and tracing runes across your skin in sacred oils that glimmer in the candlelight. I watch her touch one hand to the amber gem embedded in her chest and I bring a hand to my own phylactery in turn, feeling my essence hum in anticipation, in resonance.

She speaks, her words dark and powerful, and the room goes still. Together, we ready what she’ll need to complete your transposition, working in tandem as master and servant, her the expert and I the apprentice. I force myself to focus, bury the excitement deep inside me, let my strings empty of nervous tension and simply carry out the motions I require of them. You’re so still already, hovering on the precipice between life and death, awareness dimmed to only the barest, most dreamlike conception of your surroundings.

When she touches the tuning fork to your chest and begins to wind, I hold my breath.

As she twirls her fingers the humming rods begin to glow, winding and winding the threads of your soul free from your mortal vessel, wispy and ethereal, growing in luminosity until you’re almost blinding in the dim light of the ritual chamber. One last little flick of her wrist and you float free, a shimmering orb of life severed from its body.

I reach out my hands, jointed fingers carefully cupped, and let you settle into my palms.

I can’t help but say something, giggle and remark at how weighty you are for such an insubstantial thing. My Maker nods, reminds me I was much the same. Without another word, she holds out your phylactery – deep and red like blood, gleaming darkly, wrapped in black, polished metal.

I close my eyes and bow my head until I’m close enough to brush my lips against you, your texture like cobwebs made of moonlight. I whisper one last reassurance, although I can’t remember if I’d have heard it when I was in your place.

...and with a parting kiss I let you slip out of my cupped hands, down into your new home, the gemstone drinking you in until not a trace of your shimmering light remains, you soul secured deep within the phylactery.

All that you were, all that you are, all that you ever will be.

My Maker smiles softly, planting a kiss of her own upon the stone to seal you into it.

Safe and sound.

I’ll see you again, just as soon as your vessel is ready for you to rejoin it.

[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince; Hide & Seek

I don’t think you should look behind you, Lizzie.

The sea was dangerous. 

It was no place for a human.

Sheer cold winds howled as the waves crashed against each other. The sky was pitch black, only illuminated by the bright crash of lightning overhead. The torrential rain pelted the ocean around her, driving the waves higher and making it harder to see. Warring sounds of nature were the only thing the survivor could hear as she kept as still as possible, clinging to floating pieces of driftwood and debris to hide her frail body from the terrors of the deep. 

The survivor was drenched in water, barely breathing as she pressed her body down against the wooden planks as she tried to make herself smaller than she already was. She shivered, the freezing air surrounded her. Thunder rumbled overhead, and her blue eyes narrowed as she adjusted her blurry vision from the chaos around her. She shouldn’t be here. She should be on the island with her friends. She should be safe. She was supposed to be safe. The survivor took in deep breaths, her hands covering her head as she tried her best not to scream in fear. 

Don’t let them find you.

A blinding flash of lightning struck the sinking, burning vessel in front of her. What was once the ship that she and her parents had boarded was now nothing more than a wooden plaything for those monsters. She strained her ears, listening for any screeches or roars that bellowed from the deep, but there were none. Only then did she dare to move. 

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Her eyes were glued to the destroyed ship, the only thing left that provided her a sick sense of relief. It was a reminder of how lonely she was. She hated being alone. She moved the messy pink hair away from her face as tears began to form. Her fingers ran pulled at her hair as her breathing quickened and her vision blurred. 

She could feel her heart pounding out of her chest and her stomach twisted in pain as her head hit the wood below her. She had to be strong. Her parents told her to be strong. She had to be. She was the unshakable Elizabeth Shadow, inheritor of the Shadow Pearl corporation, nothing should scare her. Nothing should scare her. She was a big girl. Big girls shouldn’t panic. This should all be over soon. 

How did this all happen? Just a few hours ago all she saw was the clear, sunny sky and peaceful waves. Lizzie closed her eyes as she took in another deep breath, casting her mind back to the once-calm waves and breezy chill that danced across the ships. She needed to calm down. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

—————

The skies overhead were a beautiful baby blue, lazily hung with small specks of clouds and filled with the songs of migratory birds that passed by. How these birds flew across these long patches of ocean was baffling to her. Lizzie stood on the upper deck of a grand cruise ship, watching the birds fly in the distance. Her hands against the railing as the salty sea air blew through her hair as she cherished the view of the ocean. The ship was a fine white vessel used for transportation and leisure. It had several polished wooden floors with different levels to accommodate all the people on board. The ship rumbled with the vibrations of big engines propelling forward. The ship’s hull was lined in the typical metal plating meant to defend the ship from the sea monsters infesting the ocean. 

It was hard to believe this place was as scary as all the stories her friends had told her. She heard lots of stories of dangerous sea monsters, and while she did fear them as any kid did, the sea didn’t look like what she pictured in her mind. It was just a big pond filled with fish enough to feed the entire human race, all animalkind even! Ponds aren’t scary.

There was no storm. There were no tall sharp rocks to destroy ships. There was not even a hint of mist! Most importantly, there aren’t any vicious monsters coming for their ship. She didn’t think there would be any monster coming close to her ship. With their ship being a transportation boat, they were protected by several hunting ships that formed a circle around the big boat. No monsters would attack them, they’d be fine.

Hunters, Lizzie knew of the profession through Grian. His parents were hunters; trained and ready to kill any sea monster that comes their way. Grian described their ships as being covered in big weaponry and parts of the monsters they killed as trophies. Lizzie stared at the metal walls covered in spikes and harder material, showing some dents and bitemarks as they stuck to the passenger ship’s side. The hunter ships all had huge sails to carry them across the waters and an engine for a speedy getaway, all for the safety of fellow humans. 

Lizzie stared at the hunters’ ships as Grian’s words echoed through her mind. His parents were no longer in this world, but Grian was still excited about becoming a hunter. 

Lizzie could see the passion in Grian’s eyes as he spoke about hunting, full of wonder and amazement as he recollected what his birth parents had told him. Her friends all had different thoughts about hunters. She asked Martyn what being a hunter was like, given he was already training to be one, and he gave her a huge grin as he answered her: It was awesome.

 She remembered the look on Grian’s face as Martyn recounted all the cool tricks his parents had taught him, the sour expression on his face was priceless. He’d said, “How come you get to do all of that? Why can’t I?”

Lizzie visualized Martyn’s cocky smirk as he rustled with Grian’s hair, “That’s because my parents are actual hunters! Yours are smarty-pants hunters, you don’t do these sorts of stuff!”

When she asked Jimmy if he wanted to be a hunter too, his eyes had gotten big and he’d shook his head, “No way! That’s too much for me. I’d rather do what Mum and Dad do, it’s more my speed.”

Lizzie could practically hear the loud laugh Joel made when Jimmy had said that, causing a light chuckle to slip out of her. Joel had wrapped an arm around his taller brother, rolling his eyes, “He’s way too scared to do it. He thinks a monster is gonna come up to eat him or something. We’ll save him though!”

The memory of their shared laughter warmed her heart. She was excited to see them again.

Lizzie and her parents were on their way to meet with her friends and their parents, the adults planning on talking about some sort of deal she didn’t fully grasp yet. Eh, that was adult talk, she didn’t care for it. She wanted to be there to see her friends. 

Lizzie walked along the upper deck, one hand tracing the railing as she stared outward, passing small waves at hunters when they looked her way, smiling and laughing. She heard two voices up ahead, discussing something. There was nothing for her to do there other than to watch the ships go by, so Lizzie abruptly stopped walking to listen in. Two people were leaning by the wall, and to not look like she was eavesdropping Lizzie walked past them and ducked behind the wall. They wouldn’t notice her.

The two people were in a hushed conversation, one figure leaning towards the other as they spoke. It didn't seem to register to either stranger how loud they were being with their whispers. One of the voices was more frantic in their speech, stuttering, “What if they find us?” 

The other voice chuckled, soft thuds indicated they were patting their friend’s shoulder as they sighed, “They won’t. They’re not real.” 

What wasn’t real? 

The first voice spoke up again, their tone unchanging, “B-But they are! If not them, then–” 

The second voice sighed loudly, raising their voice and cutting the other off, “Then nothing, my friend. If monsters try to approach we’ll be protected.” 

The first voice spoke up again, much more quietly and less frantic. It didn’t seem like they were arguing anymore, “It’s not them I’m worried about, it’s–” If they weren’t arguing, Lizzie wanted to know why the first one was so scared.

The second one spoke up again, their tone in a low hiss, “The sea princes don’t exist, mate. They’re fairytales.”

Sea princes? Weren’t those the stories Grian and Martyn used to tell her? Her thoughts were interrupted as a low growl of thunder rumbled above, dark clouds began to form. Uh oh. Best to go downstairs with her parents. She didn’t want to get hit by the rain. Rain was scary. 

Her mind wandered back to the sea princes as she walked to her parents’ room, getting as far from the rain as possible. It was a popular story. As far as she knew, the sea princes were these big and ugly creatures who towered over all of the sea monsters. Mermaids fought them, which made Lizzie interested in the myths.

Lizzie walked down the staircase leading her down to her room. Which one was it? The third floor. It should be there. 

She shook her head, coming back to her thoughts. Mermaids, right. 

Mermaids were a beautiful mix of human and fish, guarding humanity from the evil sea princes as their sworn enemy. People sometimes caught sight of them as they stood on the edge of port towns or sailed on big ships. Lizzie gasped in realization. Big ships just like this one! Maybe she’d get to see a mermaid! Stories said seeing one was a blessing. It would be a magical moment for her to meet one on her very first ship ride!

The other thing was the treasures. The way Martyn described them made them sound so cool. There were ancient totems that could defy death, apples made of pure gold, even tomes and texts that could turn people into gods. Supposedly all those treasures existed somewhere in the ocean, surely giving anyone thoughts of what powers they could have with it. People could live forever, talk to fishes, make plants grow, anything was possible!

Lizzie visualized finding one of the treasures, a great and shiny orb that turned her into an axolotl mermaid queen that could fight off all sorts of danger to protect her friends. To her, it didn’t sound outlandish at all, it sounded cool. A lot of people wanted to find sea prince treasures, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to find it too. All sorts of cool things could be under the ocean, they just needed to look. 

Lizzie peered through a big wall of glass looking in on one of the lower floors. She saw plenty of people sitting on couches and talking. Some of them were noticeably hunters, looking out towards the open sea with weapons hung on their belts and scars marked on their bodies. 

They were fine, they were safe. That one person from earlier was wrong, they were protected from whatever danger came their way. 

She turned away, continuing down the stairs and into the hallways, pulling out a key with a tag of her room number. Three-four-one. It was somewhere down the corridor. She looked at each of the plates by the doors before stopping at one. Three-four-one, that was it! Lizzie inserted the key into the keyhole and unlocked the door. She greeted her parents with a smile, “I’m back!”

Lizzie’s father turned and grinned, crouching as his daughter ran up to give him a hug, “How was your little exploration? Find anything cool?” She looked at him with her big eyes, shaking her head. 

The room was spacious, but maybe it was because she was still so small, her parents looked big in the room. They didn’t seem to fit on the bed together, as Lizzie remembered her father offering to sleep on the couch. At the end of the room was a window overlooking the sea, a big bed, and a couch beside it. There was a small sitting area with a couple of bookshelves and complimentary snacks left with a desk. The door to the bathroom was next to the entrance of the room, with a closet off to the side. 

Lizzie sat on the couch, swinging her feet, “Nothing much! I did hear two big kids talk about the sea princes though.” 

Her mother looked up from the bed, closing the book she was reading as her husband sat beside her. The couple shared an amused glance, smiling at each other before looking at their child. Her mother tilted her head, “And you don’t look scared at all! What a big girl you are, Lizzie.” Lizzie giggled, her feet kicking faster. 

Her father sighed loudly, striking a dramatic pose, “Honey, she’s getting so old! We’re getting old!” 

Her mother laughed, rolling her eyes, “Ay, that we are. She’s brave enough to be out on her own, exploring the ship and reporting her findings. I remember how scared you were when we first told you about them,” she sighed, glancing to the side as she chuckled, “You’re growing up so fast.” 

Lizzie stuck her tongue out, furrowing her eyebrows, “But I don’t wanna be old yet! I still–”

Loud, piercing bells began to ring in the distance as the ship made a loud creaking noise and nearly went sideways with a sudden push, sending them sprawling. Lizzie gripped the bed as her parents reoriented themselves. Lizzie’s father approached the window and stuck his head out as her mother motioned for her to come to her. Lizzie shifted on the bed. She didn’t want to move, she just got there! The bed felt comfortable.

Lizzie could hear a low trilling sound from the open window, echoing as glass windows began to crack. The noise vibrated the ship. The bells continued to ring as voices of the hunters rang through the air. There were loads of hunters around the ship. She should be fine. They all should be fine. 

Her father shut the window, turning to his wife and child. His eyes were wide, but he tried to stabilize his breathing, “We have to leave. Now.” 

Her mother nodded as she shot out of bed and hastily gathered her things. Lizzie sat on the bed, shifting around as her parents paced around the room in haste. “Why do we need to leave?” she questioned, “The hunters should be able to stop the monsters!” That was their job, wasn’t it? There were four hunting ships in the area, they should be enough. 

It didn’t stop her father from continuing, “I know they will, but we also need to be protected. We have to stay safe.” 

The waves continued to jostle the ship, the gentle swaying became harsher as some kind of noise escaped from the ocean. Lizzie could hear the muffled sounds of the hunters firing their weapons, but there was no sound of a creature getting hurt. Lizzie’s eyebrows furrowed, “But the hunters–” 

Her mother was the one to cut in this time, carrying bags with some of their clothes hanging loosely out of the top, “Lizzie, no buts. You’re a big girl, but even big girls get scared when the threat is very real.” 

No. Big kids don’t get scared. She won’t be scared. Stories about sea monsters used to frighten her, but not anymore. She’d be brave. 

Lizzie hit her fist against the cushiony bed. Her voice rose as she firmly declared, “I’m not scared!” The light from the window had cut off before either of her parents could say anything in return, tossing the family into the pitch black darkness. 

Lizzie saw her parents walking backwards in fear, staring at the window. Their faces were pale and their eyes widened as they took shaky steps. She watched her parents’ breathing quicken as they sank to their knees. Lizzie cocked her head, raising an eyebrow with a frown, “What’s wrong?” 

Her parents didn’t look at her, staring at the window instead, but her mother spoke, “Lizzie. Walk to us, slowly.” Lizzie had the gut feeling to turn back. She shifted her body, starting to turn, but her mother caught on. “Don’t look behind you. Look at us. Me.” Why not look behind her? What could possibly– another monstrous trill resonated in the air, shaking the ground.

Something was blocking the window. 

Now her mother was staring right at Lizzie, her eyes wide as her breathing became loud and uneven. Lizzie got off the bed, slowly taking small steps before her mother took one second to glance back at the window. 

Lizzie looked behind her.

An eye. A huge one. The white of the eye was a pitch black abyss with a piercing orange and blue iris staring directly at them. The creature’s pupil was large and ice white. A sound emitted from its throat as it rumbled through the structure of the ship. Lizzie could feel it shake the floor beneath her feet, her body shook along with it. 

Time seemed to stop around them as they were locked in a staring match with a monster that could so easily tear them apart. Lizzie’s body shook, her heart was pounding out of her chest as she shakily took a step backwards, away from the eye. The eye moved along with her, as if following Lizzie’s every movement. 

The eye moved in closer as the ship began to tilt. Lizzie and her parents lost their footing, sliding across the floor and hitting the door as the creature made another low trill before a sudden shriek, distant from the ship, broke the air of silence. The white pupil suddenly narrowed into a slit as the massive monster produced an unholy roar that shattered the window. 

The creaking wood of the ship crumbled and cracked, metal bending and twisting before snapping open as water rushed in. Horrified screams and gasps came from the other rooms and were drowned out as the echoing trill resounded through the deep. Lizzie’s parents grabbed her and swam out through the shattered window. The beast was no longer in sight.

Lizzie learned an important thing that day; she didn’t know how to swim. 

Don’t panic. Panicking will make things worse. 

Lizzie could feel her mother’s arm wrap around her, hurriedly placed on a wooden door. Lizzie’s heart pounded out of her chest. Her parents were there, close to her. They weren’t on the door like she was.

Everything became a blur after. 

Rain started to pour. Hunters screamed in fear, “What is that thing?!” before their ships snapped open and bodies fell into the salty sea water below. 

There were people in the water. So many people were in the water. 

Thunder and lightning raged in the sky as the creature’s long tail pierced out of the water from time to time, slowly but surely circling around them. Lizzie didn’t know where the ship was; she’d lost her parents. They’d become separated as chunks of different ships had begun to scatter and crash into the water as two different beasts roared and shrieked. 

Lizzie could hear her parents call out to her. She flailed her arms, “Mom?! Dad?! Where are you?!” She looked around her surroundings in hopes of finding them. Please. She needed to see them again. She looked at the direction she had heard her parents. Where were–

The monster let out a bellowing roar, rattling the water as a gigantic red fin shot up from the depths swiftly knocked Lizzie into the water as it swam past. She was disoriented– where were her parents? She called out to them again. She needed to find them.

“Mom?! Dad?!”

She couldn’t hear their voices anymore.

Lizzie didn’t know where to go. She flailed her arms aimlessly while the cold waters tried to consume her, eventually finding something to desperately latch onto as she struggled to remain afloat. She remembered she had grabbed a wooden wall and stuck to it for dear life. More and more voices were drowned out by the rain. The only thing she could hear over the sound of the burning ships and the angry weather were the monsters. She prayed to whatever god was out there to spare her. She didn’t want to die.

The monsters disappeared, but not for long. They were coming back for her, weren’t they?

Lizzie had been able to wedge herself between two pieces of debris to hide. The monsters didn’t seem to have noticed her. The waves that used to crash against her only pushed her slightly. Lizzie looked up to see the long finned tail of the creatures sink below. 

Why had it been staring at her? Her parents? Was it some kind of sick game? She did not want to play. 

She was alone. 

Everything had been fine until now. Maybe if she never boarded the ship, her parents would be okay. She wanted them here with her. Maybe it was better if her friends visited her instead of the other way around. 

The waves rocked her shelter, as if trying to calm her down. It wasn’t working. 

Lizzie looked up from the piece of wooden wall beneath her, her vision blurry with tears, and saw a lot of the floating debris moving in the same direction. Lizzie wiped the tears away from her eyes as she tried to focus. The… the debris weren’t moving because of the waves. They were moving because the creature was circling them! Lizzie covered her mouth from screaming as a small vortex was created, her head becoming light as she heard the beast roar. 

Stay calm. Inhale. Exhale. 

The spinning got faster, making Lizzie want to puke, but the motions came to an abrupt stop as she was gathered with the other floating debris. Her eyes widened as she heard other people crying out in fear. She wasn’t the only one! There were others who were still alive!

The rain made it hard to see the looming figure rising out of the water before her. She saw faint hints of blue, its chest had stripes of other colors glowed faintly in the darkness. Lizzie heard shouts over the ocean, but the storm and the crashing waves swallowed the noise. She heard a rumble in the water before a second figure appeared, something blurry white and red bursting up. The other beast. There was another one.

What if they were looking for her? 

Lizzie could hear the beasts ‘speak’, grunts and guttural echoes boomed above, she wished she could shut her eyes but they were fixed on the monsters. She didn’t even have a clear look at either one, just knowing one of them was red and the other was blue. She heard something rise from the water as the terrified shrieks of the other people filled the air between rolls of thunder, “P-Please! Spare us! We have families– children to come home to!” 

Lizzie heard a loud crash of water, likely the monster was angry at their response. Did they even understand human speech? She didn’t need to worry about that. 

The air hung silent as thunder echoed. One of the humans began to speak, “Y-Your eye… we apologize for–” The red beast growled. Its sounds were different from the blue one, a rumbling echo instead of a rattling thrill, yet carried the same booming volume. Its tail swished, jostling Lizzie’s hiding spot, unknowingly giving her a better view of the creatures. 

One of the beasts was covered in shiny, golden spikes. Its tail was armored, red with a blue-green tail fin. The other beast’s tail was blue with colorful splotches, its fins were a red sunset-like hue with patterns of flickering stars. She couldn’t see the end of its tail, likely underwater. 

Something that stuck out to her weren’t the colors or the shape of their tails though.

She could be seeing things, but they looked human.

The blue one’s colorful stripes almost looked like tattoos along its back, Lizzie could see red fins coming from its head and she swore it had long teal hair. The red one had pearlescent white hair with brown streaks coming from it, unable to see much else other than that.

Why did they look human?

The men’s screams were tossed upward, the beasts thrashing and moving the debris, along with Lizzie, around. She swore the beasts were laughing, their bellowing unholy roars boomed as Lizzie braced for something. Anything. She was expecting the monsters to end it, to just kill them and leave. 

Yet…

“HUNTERS…” 

Lizzie shut her eyes. There was no way this was real. She had to be dreaming. This was just one bad dream, right?

“...DON’T BELONG HERE.”

It spoke.

Those were human words.

No ordinary beast can just talk, right?

This was all a bad dream. Lizzie just needed to wake up. She covered her ears, blocking out the dozens of screams as they were silenced by the sound of jaws snapping. Her heart began pounding and with one final crash of lightning, she shut her eyes for a long, long time.

—————

“Lizzie?” 

Where was she?

“Lizzie, wake up.” 

Was she dead?

“Are you okay?”

Are her parents alive?

“Lizzie, are you there?” 

Was she back home?

“Please. Wake up, Lizzie.”

…Those were her friends calling her, weren’t they? 

Lizzie shot up, breathing heavily as she grasped her chest. This wasn’t the ocean. It was bright and sunny. She could hear birdsong outside and the gentle brush of leaves against the wind. Sunlight filtered through the window behind her, looking around, she could see the expressions her friends were giving her. 

Joel was right beside Lizzie, clenching his fists with hunched shoulders, his eyes glued on her. Jimmy was on the other side, one of his hands held onto his head, gripping his blonde hair as he leaned over. Grian was beside Jimmy, his wide eyes stared at her as his eyebrows furrowed, biting his lip. 

They were here. She was here with them. Her parents. 

Lizzie took in a deep breath, “Where are my parents?” 

The three brothers shared a glance, exchanging mini expressions until Joel nodded, placing his hand on the bed as an offering. Lizzie placed her hand on top of his. Joel glanced at the floor as he sighed, “They’re… they’re.. How do I phrase this?” Joel’s eyes couldn’t meet hers. They were what? What happened? 

Lizzie glanced at Grian and Jimmy, who kept their heads low. Why was everyone acting so weird? Lizzie’s grip on Joel tightened as an air of silence washed over them. 

“Everyone was-.” 

His voice trailed off. Silence. If it weren’t for the birdsong outside, the silence would have been deafening. He didn’t finish his sentence. That only meant one thing, right? They were gone. Dead. Not in this world anymore. The last thing she did was be a disobedient child. She was the worst. Lizzie felt tears begin to well up in her eyes, her hands covered her face as she screamed. She screamed so loudly the brothers flinched, Lizzie’s chest heaving as she sobbed.

She wanted her parents.

She needed her parents.

This wasn’t fair.

Lizzie’s hands slumped on her sides as she laid on the bed. This can’t be real. She felt Joel hold her hand as he looked at her.

Joel rubbed his thumb over Lizzie’s hand as she gripped it tight. “But you survived. It’s… a lot to take in, but I promise, we’ll be there for you.” Joel looked back at her with a smile, tilting his head. 

Grian stood up from his chair, slamming his hands on the sheets, “We’ll find out what beast did it, and tear its heart out!” Grian’s enthusiasm for being a hunter was strong, surprising her now with how intense his gaze was, affirming his resolve. Maybe it was because his birth parents died, he felt something new towards Lizzie. She decided not to think about it. 

Jimmy placed a hand on her shoulder, “You need time to calm down, Liz. However long it takes, we’ll be there.” Jimmy was always the butt of the joke, always made dumb little quips, but he was an amazing friend. She was glad she met all of them. They were her best friends. She couldn’t imagine facing life without them. All of them.

Lizzie smiled, looking at all three as tears formed in her eyes, not of sadness, but relief, “...Thank you.” 

—————

She never did find out what beasts took her parents that day, but she would learn it eventually. Lizzie breathed the fresh salty air, it was just as she remembered. The waves rippled past the ship, birds called in the open air. All she needed now was time. Time to recover, time to heal. Time to figure out the rest of her life. She held the steering wheel firmly as she exhaled, closing her eyes. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and opened her eyes to see Joel with his hand on her shoulder, their engagement ring glistening in the sunlight.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, “Any attacks before we charter home?” She could see a glint in Joel’s eyes as he smirked.

Joel took his hand off of Lizzie’s shoulder and shoved it into his pocket, “Maybe. Let’s have one last hurrah before we head home, sounds good?” The mischievousness in his eyes faded as he tilted his head. Lizzie adored how much he cared about her. She’d be fine. She felt reassured with everyone on board supporting her recovery. She gave Joel a small kiss on the lips.

“Aye, captain. Love you.”

But maybe, maybe it was better to leave some mysteries unsolved.

[nonuggetshere]

(ID start: Three portraits of the Pale King, Pure Vessel and White Lady from Hollow Knight as humans, drawn on a template labelled "Fankid Meme" with the word "fan" crossed out. The three boxes are labelled from left to right "Parent One", "Child" and "Parent Two", with the Pure Vessel in the middle between their parents. The Pale King has a sharp, lean, wrinkled, triangular face with an aquiline nose and sharp cheekbones, large, dark eyebags, long pointed ears and thin eyebrows. He has completely white sharp almond eyes with three long sharp eyelashes at the bottom of the eyes. His skin is white with blue and pink undertones, he has grey lines like veins going up the side of his face and neck to his eyes, and two moles under his right eye, with one mole smaller than the other. The white horns on his head form a crown shape, his white hair parts between his horns and is tied into a long braid. He's glancing over his shoulder at the viewer, making only the collars of his grey dress and white coat visible, he's also wearing a partly see-through frilly shawl that falls over his shoulders and a white jacket with blue wavy patterns around the collar drapped over his shoulders. The White Lady has a fuller, round, long face with subtler wrinkles, round, straight downturned nose, thick eyebrows and a double chin. Her round eyes are fully blue with lighter, almost white, pupils and and three eyelashes resembling flower petals on her upper eyelid. Her white skin has cream undertones and is speckled with lighter freckles most visible on her cheeks and nose. On her right arm, which is resting on her chest and lacks any fingernails, small ridges resembling tree bark are visible, similar to the ones present on the twisting roots and branches sprouting from her head. Her white, wavy hair is tied back in a low bun with a hair tie made of red pearls. The strands of her hair twist and turn around her branches, which are decorated with the same pearls used to tie her hair. She has a warm, toothy smile as she looks at the viewer. She's dressed in a dark blue dress, with a dark cream shirt underneath with a frilly, floral patterned collar. An off-white shawl is drapped over her shoulders, she also wears a necklace made with the same red pearls she wears on her head. The Pure Vessel has their father's face shape but with rounder features of their mother. They have gentler cheekbones and long pointed ears, eyebrows with an in-between thickness of their parents', and a nose that's slightly downturned and straight like their mother's but smaller like their father's. They have pitch black, round almond eyes, with round eyelashes on their upper eyelids in a shape of a heart, with the top eyelash rounder and bottom one sharper and thinner. Their skin is white with blueish grey undertones, littered with darker freckles and a mole under their left eye. The skin below their cheekbones, their ears and neck down is pitch black. The horns on their head are rigid and sharp like their father's but grow almost like branches with ridges at the bottom of each of the two off-shoots. Their white hair is slightly less wavy than their mother's, tied into a long fluffy ponytail with bangs falling over their right eye. They're staring straight on at the viewer with a neutral expression. They're wearing a white shirt with a popped up frilly collar, tied at the bottom with red strig, and embroidered light blue and red floral patters at the shoulders and around the collar. End ID.)

Template

Sorry for that BEHEMOTH of a description, I wanted to compare my gijinkas' designs to each other and draw attention to the family resemblance between PV and their parents for a looong time now, so writing a description that doesn't draw attention to these traits and details would feel like missing the point of the artwork

The basic rundown of this for those who don't want to read that long as hell description is under the cut

PV has the same, more triangular face shape of their father, but with rounder edges wnd soft features of their mother. Basically, PK's face if somebody took a sandpaper to it. They also inherited their mother's freckles and their father's moles, with their birthmark being practically a mirror image of his.

PK's eyes are sharp and almong shaped while WL's are round, he has a thin roman nose while hers is larger and downturned, almost like a greek nose, going straight down from her eyebrow bridge with no noticeable dip. PV's are a mix of these traits, having round almond eyes and a nose close to their mother's in shape with no bump on the ridge like their father's, but smaller and thinner, resembling more of his nose at the tip.

I imagine their horns are hard and sharp like their father's, made of the same bone-like structure as his "crown", but they grow in a way that almost resembles branches. Like roots made of bone, if you will.

And lastly, PK has straighter very slightly wavy hair (like 2a) and WL has more wavier hair, maybe more accurately described as very loose curls? Like 2c or 3a (not the best at drawing this type of curl yet so it looks straighter than it should be 😔 I'm working on it). While PV's hair is meant to be wavy, like 2b texture.

If it wasn't glaringly obvious yet, I wanted to make PV as close to a 50/50 blend of their traits as I could get.

[written-in-flowers]

Get in the Water || PSH X fem!Reader

Pairing: Seonghwa x fem!reader / Side pairing: Mingi x Yunho

Word count: 1k

Genre: angst, slight bit of fluff

Summary: The sea god finds the person who killed his lover, and has only four words for them. Seonghwa can only watch for so long.

Tags: murder, mentions of murder, established relationship, nothing particularly bad tbh. You and Seonghwa have a kid. YN not physically featured. Mentions of pregnancy and talk of futures.

A/N: inspired by the song "Get in the Water" from Epic: The Musical

****

The sea king only had one request for the captain:

"Get in the water".

Seonghwa saw the water starting to swim in his eyes, yet his face not showing sadness or pain. The young pirate saw nothing but anger. Fury. Pure rage. He saw the god's hands, long and large, curled into fists that were ready to guide the seas onto their vessel. He glanced over to Hongjoong, his captain and best friend, who stared back at Mingi, God of the Seas, with defiance. Seonghwa knew this was only a show of bravery. He caught his captain's trembling hands, the resistance in his eyes slowly fading as the two stood towards one another.

Standing on top of a rock that erupted from the sea floors, Mingi, God of the Sea, wore the plated breastplate with his horse sigil on his chest. His crown, made of driftwood and pearls, sat upon a mop of black strands and the trident he held was made of shining steel. The lower half of his body was a merman's tail of the deepest black, shimmering even against the crashing waves hitting his perch. Hongjoong, in his own armor, planted himself firmly on the dock. With a small step or push, Hongjoong could indeed get in the water. Once in the deep, dark depths, the sea god will have him.

All because Hongjoong wanted gold.

"Get in the water," Mingi repeated, his piercing eyes narrowed on him.

"For what reason?" Hongjoong replied in a shaky voice. "What have I done to offend you, Sea God?"

"You took what was most precious to me. You slew the one who calmed my angry oceans and warmed my cold heart. You killed the only person I ever loved," Seonghwa heard his voice crack at the last person. "So now...Get in the water, captain."

Seonghwa knew of whom Mingi spoke: the siren on the shores of the golden island. Siren scales fetch hefty prices in the market places. They are said to attract love and fortune. Hongjoong believed a siren's tail would make him a rich man. Seonghwa told him he was foolish to believe so. They'd all die for certain. With wax in their ears, their orders clear, Hongjoong and the rest of the crew hunted down sirens in the farthest reaches of the sea. Seonghwa regretted what he'd done, but he had a family back home. He had you and your son, Minho.

"Get in the water," Mingi said again, "Or I'll bring the waves so high everyone in your little shanty sea town will die."

Hongjoong paused, that resistance starting to crumble. Tempest may not be the most glamourous of places, but it was home for their crew. Seonghwa thought of the sea breeze that blew through the tiny village. He saw you at the tavern, serving drinks and food to hungry sailors and fisherman. He thought of your smooth, supple skin and warm kisses. Your smile and laugh haunted his dreams. He pictured his own son, Minho, running down the sandy roads with his friends. You tell him he's a spitting image of his father. Seonghwa's heart shattered thinking of his home, his family, and everyone he knows drowning and not able to save them.

"Wait..."

"I'll make tidal waves so profound," he said, "Both your wife and children will drown."

Suffocating. That was how drowning felt. Seonghwa recalled the time he'd fallen overboard during a storm. The waves almost pushed him under each time he came up for air. The currents carried him farther and farther, tossing and crushing him. Even on land, he could feel his lungs contracting as air was sucked out of him.

"No, please..."

"Get in the water."

"I didn't mean to-"

"-You didn't mean to?" Mingi snapped, and he swore he saw lightning slash through the sky in the distance. Seonghwa saw the waves around them suddenly turn dark, rolling onto one another over and over as if reaching for Hongjoong. "Did not mean to kill my beloved and steal his tail? To take his life in hopes of gaining riches? Get. In. The. Water, you pathetic human filth!"

The thunder rumbled along with the god's insult

"Don't mistake my threats as bluffs, captain," he continued. "I will go to your little town and crash every ship that comes your way. I will bring rain and water until it floods their crops and destroys their homes. I will leave your people with nothing! Nothing, you hear me?!"

Hongjoong's pride came back over his face. "I don't think you will. You make claims all the time and never followed through."

"Captain, what are you doing?" Wooyoung, the ship's builder, asked in disbelief.

"He's all talk."

"Are you insane? He will crash our ships if we go out to port. How will we get home?"

They're so close to home. Seonghwa could almost smell your cooking in his nose. He could feel Minho's little arms around his neck, his body in his arms as he kissed his precious face. Your warmth in his bed. His son's bright eyes glimmering up at him with happiness. He'd trade all the siren scales and gold in the world to be back home.

"Get in the water."

"He can't touch me," Hongjoong said to Wooyoung, "As long as I'm on land."

"Get in the water," Mingi said once more, trident twisting into the hard rock beneath. Seonghwa knew with one swing of that weapon, the ocean around them will sink their fleet and homes. "Or I will release the kraken. I will call upon the sea serpents of the north, the giant squids of the south, and the monstrosities of the deepest depths. They will break your ships. They will break you and your crew."

He thought of all the sea monsters his grandfather used to tell him about. Beasts so terrifying and deadly that sailors steer clear of their hunting grounds. He pictured himself being eaten by such beasts, no longer there to protect and provide for his growing family. You must be swelling by now, from what your last letter told him. You told him right before he left for the sea again: you're pregnant. With another mouth to feed, your wages as a barmaid will not cut it. You needed him. He needed you. What if you died in childbirth?

"Get in the water."

And Minho and your baby end up alone?

"Get in the water!"

His son will be put to work; work unfit and unsafe for a boy of seven. The babe will be given away or worse.

"No!"

Minho is a gentle lad.

"Get in the water!"

He loves the sea. He loves fishing and swimming. He collects seashells and starfish.

"Get in the water!"

Those things will be taken from him. His innocence will be stolen, no doubt.

"Get in the water!"

The ocean started to swell. For the briefest of moments, he saw a tentacles break the surface before diving back down. Too long and too thick to be any ordinary creature. You needed him. You mean so much to him. He knew he loved you the night he met you at the Rusty Pot. The banter between you both made him feel alive, and your smile warmed him from head to toe. When you said 'yes' the night by the water, he'd been the happiest man. No treasure trove or siren scale could replace his love for you.

"You can find another," Hongjoong scoffed. "It's not as if I killed them all."

Hongjoong, a ladies' man who frequented brothels, never experienced real, deep love before. He'd never understand. Seonghwa knew if someone ever harmed you, he'd gut them himself. He remembered the siren. A male with deep black hair and round eyes that looked so innocent. He'd been sitting on a rock, enjoying the ocean breeze and singing softly to himself. The silver chain and charm on his neck should've clued them in: a prancing horse, so similar to the one on Mingi's breastplate, matched the one Hongjoong snatched off his corpse. His grandfather told him all about the sea god's favorite: a siren named Yunho, who had the most beautiful singing voice. They'd grown up together, he'd told Seonghwa. Side-by-side, moving through the decades and centuries together. He'd always wanted a love like theirs; he'd gotten it in you.

"You...Pathetic...Worthless...Weakling..." the sea god's fury came down in thunder and lighting, dark clouds overcasting the sky. "You dare..."

It'd been Hongjoong who killed him. He launched the net that pulled him into the boat. He'd screamed. Seonghwa's eyes closed as those screams and pleas echoed in his ears. He'd looked so scared. Hongjoong slaughtered him without mercy. Seonghwa had helped.

"Get in the water. You've lived more than enough, little pirate."

But, it was Hongjoong that Mingi wanted.

"He wasn't even that pretty."

Surely, he'd spare the crew if the one who killed his beloved was dead.

"Are you mad?!" Wooyoung called out.

They'll die because of their captain's greed and pride.

"Kind of weird for a god to care so much for a lesser being..."

Seonghwa could not let that happen. He must get home to you, Minho and your baby. He hoped it was a girl. He'd like a daughter who would be her mother in miniature. You're likely due any day now. The doctor said you'd likely already have the baby by the time he came home. The flicker of another tentacle, this time bright pink, floated through the thrashing waves. A squid. A kraken and a squid.

"Get in the-"

He did not know what made him do it: the desperation to get home, the need to see his family again and hold his newborn child, or perhaps fear of losing his own life. Thinking of his house at the edge of town, he pressed his hand to Hongjoong's back and pushed him into the waves. Only Seonghwa heard his screams so close to the water, the rest only heard more rumbling and crackling. He stared down, tears filling his eyes and guilt in his heart, and saw Hongjoong's arms desperately reach for the surface. Right as his face broke the waves, he was quickly yanked back down. Even in the darkness, Seonghwa saw crimson clouds color the sea foam created by the waves.

Mingi's cruel cackle struck fear into his chest. Seonghwa stared up to see the sea god laughing, throwing his head back a moment before continuing to watch the kraken tear the captain apart. When the waters stilled, the blood starting to fade with the tides, he looked at Seonghwa.

'YN...I love you. Minho, my sweet boy, I'm sorry.'

Mingi stepped a foot forward and immediately a wave caught him. He walked along the ocean surface until he reached the edge of the dock. Seonghwa shivered in place, rain and mist starting to seep into his clothes.

"You just killed your captain, sailor," Mingi said. "Why?"

"I have a family," he whispered. "A wife whose pregnant...an eight-year-old son who hardly has his sea legs...I cannot let his greed take them from me. I told him, your greatness, that killing sirens is a sin against the sea. Killing Yunho, the most enchanting of them all, was foolish and would only bring pain and devastation. He did not listen. I was not going to lose my family over his greed." He mustered his courage and said, "Is your vengeance satisfied, great sea lord?"

Mingi hesitated. Seonghwa saw him contemplating the question. He then finally said, "I've seen you before...You've come to my altar."

"Every time I go onto the water, my lord."

"Your wife's name is YN...Your son is Minho...You've given my offerings for protection at sea..."

"I am all they have. If I die, life will be difficult for them."

"You must love them very much to kill a good friend so swiftly."

"I do. More than any scale or gold coin in the world." He held back his tears, "I am just a man whose trying to go home."

He stayed silent a moment longer. "You may go, but know this, should you or your crew ever sail in my oceans again you will experience my anger firsthand."

"We understand, my lord."

Seonghwa watched him return back into the ocean. As the waves stilled again, Seonghwa turned away and walked back down the dock without a word. He had to get home. He could find work on a dock or in a shipyard. He could get a job where he'd be on land.

He'd done it all to be with you.

****

A/N: this idea came to me at 4am, and I needed to write it lol I really love the songs from Epic: The Musical, and couldn't help seeing Mingi as a vengeful sea god. 'Get in the Water' is definitely one of my favorites. Hope you guys enjoyed this short, angsty tale <3

[gh0st0o]

Guys I can’t stop drawing her!😭

I’m not going to lie, I really like the concept of her but I wasn’t really a bad big fan of her whole design nor her backstory because I feel like the creator could’ve added more into her backstory and her character in general. Like why was her eyes black or what’s going on with her family’s relationship and what’s the background of the judgment angel. Also because I wasn’t a big fan of the design….

So of course I did some redesign then I’m going to change her background and backstory a bit. I’m still keeping the concept of her being the judge angel, I just have to work on the judgement angel and hers relationship because I feel like she would be a vessel. Then I will have to write down her backstory which will take some time because I still wanna keep some part of her old backstory but I don’t wanna completely make a new backstory for her, so I will do a mixture of her old backstory and added some new stuff into the backstory.

Anyways here some headcanons and some ideas I have with her. :3

Judge Angels/Dina Angela Clark headcanons or au ideas

-freckles and moles on her face and body, long curly blonde hair and blonde lashes.

-she has bad religious trauma and used live in the southern side or country side where, she doesn’t know any technology or doesn’t know anything city side.

-on her back, she has a angel wings white tattoo(because she is marked to be the vessel of the judgement angel).

-she likes to wear long flowy white dresses and likes to wear pearl necklaces or earrings.

-she loves sheeps,goats and lambs.

-she likes to listen to waltz or classical music.

-her whole aesthetic is literally southern gothic! 😭

-I feel like she’ll listen to Ethal Cain and mitski.

-she lives in a huge isolated place and area that is like a mixture of a church,hospital and a orphanage home and lives in it with other creeps but mostly the children,doctor and nurses creeps.

-of course she is the next judgement angel vessel and she will gain it’s ability.

-when she gets older, she wanted to be a nun but now she doesn’t want to be one after her trauma.

-she has candle or floral scent.

-she loves running around the forest in her long white flowy dress in the tall grass or the forest.

-she does grow angel wings if she reaches her full potential but she doesn’t know how to do that currently.

-she loves reading and wants to live in the library forever. Her favorite genre horror,dark romance,dark fantasy and of course read the Bible.

The Judgement Angel

I’m still working on some lore on this angel but the only thing you guys gotta know is that, that’s the original judgement angel that chose Dina as the chosen vessel to continue it’s legacy and name.

The only things I wrote about this angel is that how it chooses that vessel is of course by judging and seeing the potential in that person. If they were the chosen one then the Judgment angel will emerge themselves on the pregnant mother and putting all their life,power and whole existence on that vessel that the mother will give birth to. However that comes with a catch, that vessel will be marked with changed appearances, giving them black eyes and a white tattoo Angel wings mark on the back.

If y’all have anymore questions or have some confusion on reading this, then please ask or comment if you wish to know more. I don’t wanna write anything into a wrong idea.😭

[littlemissprettyprincess]

I finally reached my pure consciousness yey ^^

♡The first time I found out about Void State was in November 2021. I had terrible psychology, a bullying family, and a college exam that would determine my life. Every night without rest, I tried to persistently enter with a bad concept.And finally, exactly fifteen months later, I reached that gap.Yes, to return to the very beginning, I am an anxiety and depression patient. That's why bad thoughts are always dancing in my mind. (not anymore hehe ^^) I mixed my own method with the information I learned from you and woke up on February 17 with all my desires <3<3<3

♡I had written my desires in a google docs, and that damn thing was exactly 25 pages. I was constantly worried what if some of them didn't happen and my consciousness ignored some of them. We guess it's complete nonsense, void gives you everything you want ^^

🤍Here are some of my desires;

(i'm sorry I wrote in detail because I like to read in detail -_-)

ღ Name, date of birth, place of birth revision.

ღThe racial diversity in my pedigree. My mother is half French and half Turkish now. My grandmother is half Turkish and half Russian.

ღWhite, smooth, soft, clean, shiny, moist, evenly toned, free from all problems, (blackheads, acne, skin stains, cracks, cellulite, scars and dead layer, dead skin, excess oil, eczema, dandruff, wrinkles, blackout, the capillary blood vessel image, picture, sun spots, wrinkles, hair loss, dry skin, pore), which appears to have Foundation and always flawless, non-porous, permanently I have perfect porcelain skin.

ღI have perfectly sighted, healthy, attractive, bright feline rare green & blue eyes. My eyelashes are long, tight, curled and bushy. Everyone admires my eyes and compliments me. I impress people very well even with my looks. My eyebrows also never come out of excess, they always look symmetrical and perfect in a taken way.

ღI have an extraordinary, aesthetic, attractive, elegant, small, proportional, symmetrical, upturned, S-line nose that looks perfect in every way, looks like a work of art from the side profile, receives compliments and compliments at any time. There is no hair on my nose, there is never any snot on my nose, and this never affects my health badly.

ღI have the most plump, soft, moisturized, symmetrical, attractive, never-cracking pink lips that exist in the entire infinite universe. My lips never crack. I have pearl-lined, healthy, white teeth. My teeth will never turn yellow and will not be damaged. There will never be food residue on my teeth. I have a great smile and laughter. My laughter and smile literally fascinate people. My mouth always smells extremely good.

ღI have a symmetrical, proportioned, masterpiece, flawless, small short skull (angel skull), face, forehead and chin. I have perfect ears, small, proportional to my face. My ears are always clean, there are no hairs, and this never affects my health badly. I have three holes side by side and a helix in my right ear, two holes and an auricle in my left ear. They're all healed up and it never hurts.

ღI have a perfect and attractive hourglass physique. I definitely have an extremely seductive, feminine and sexy body. Upright 90° proportional feminine shoulders, a prominent collar bones, feminine, sexy Ridge, a narrow chest, arms tight slim feminine, upright, rounded, fleshy, erect, the tip is a small, pink tits, Skinny (56 cm), waist, upper and lower tight and tense abdominal, plump,round, and perfectly upright, hips, round hips, a thin medium like the great column proportioned legs looks perfect, attractive, fragrant, plump, tight, tense and white symmetrical labia majora, labia minor short little soft pink, soft pink anus long thin fingers, No. 36 feet clean and looking great at all times, I have white and rasped nails that never break. My toenails never grow, always stay at their ideal height and are always rasped and clean. Hair and feathers never come out on my body except for my hair, eyebrows and eyelashes. I got rid of them permanently. No matter how much I eat, I will not gain weight, my physique and image will not deteriorate. There is a small mole on the top of my left breast and on my neck.

ღI have dense, thick wavy auburn hair that looks perfect, perfect, plump, soft, shiny, does not get electrified, never breaks, never smells bad and does not get greasy, healthy, smells good at any time.

ღEverywhere I am, it always smells extremely clean, attractive, sexy and sweet.  I never sweat or smell bad. A sweat stain never happens. My clothes and underwear always smell very clean, beautiful and sexy.  My toilet, big and small, always smells good. My big toilet never makes a sound. I never have a current. I never gas or burp. This will not harm my health. My vagina and anus always smell extremely beautiful and attractive.

ღI have the ability to sing, ballet, ice skating, piano, cello, draw pictures and write books.

ღI am a graduate of Oxford medicine, harvard mathematics. My IQ is 157. English German French Spanish Italian Russian I speak and understand Turkish, English, German, French, Spanish, Italian, Russian with perfect pronunciation and diction, just like my native language.

ღI have $50,000 in my personal bank account.  I receive a $2,000 scholarship on a monthly basis, one of each month, and I will continue to receive my scholarship until I am 27 years old.

ღi have all the items on the dream wardrobe, dream jewelry & bags, dream shoes & socks, dream tec, dream books and vinyl, dream cosmetic (skin materials match my skin color and each product feels very good on my skin), dream things (gift &cargo section is all shipped and in my room) on my pinterest account.

ღi have a duplex loft house with earthquake resistant, rail system, top floor, attic, bosphorus view. The deed of the house is on me. A large, spacious, modern house with spiral staircase, terrace, American kitchen.  There is both a walk-in shower and a bathtub in my bathroom.The house is designed exactly like my dream. The bills and dues for the house are automatically paid by the company I received a scholarship from. I have a driver's license and I drive perfectly, perfectly. My focus and reflexes are very strong when driving. I have a white range rover. The tax and inspection costs of my car are covered by the company I received a scholarship from. At the same time, I also have a card that I can fill out 10 times every month by the company where I received the scholarship.

ღI look so beautiful and sexy in every way, in every way. When I'm laughing, crying, wet, sleeping, laughing, miming, making love, without makeup, when I've just woken up. I never drool when I sleep, I don't let out gas and I don't get delirious. I always sleep perfectly and beautifully like a baby. 'm Virgin. I give extreme pleasure to the person I'm with, the person I'm kissing. The person in front of me is dependent on my lips and skin. The person who is with me gets more pleasure, excitement and satisfaction than he has ever received before.

ღI'm living the wattpad book life. I always looked the way I wanted and loved the way I wanted. I am the main character of my life. My life is like a novel written in the hand of a perfect writer. Every moment of my life is a book fiction. I have always been rich, successful, lucky and living the perfect life.ღI have a lover who will enter my life on September 9, 2023 and who has been secretly in love with me for 4 years. he's just like in my dreams.. 1.95 bronze skin, amber eye, black hair, scruffy beard, muscular body, long lashes and succulent lips.. He is extremely handsome, sexy and intelligent. It smells masculine and attractive. Both serious and sarcastic.. billionaire, soldier, ceo, underground man. He loves, protects and movies me more than anything in the world. he loves like her baby and makes love like her enemy 🔥 He2s exactly a book guy.

It's been a little long, I'm sorry, but I'm very excited and I'm living my life now. If anyone wants, I can also share how I got in 🤍

@lotusmi @uniquelymeandmyworld2 @voidprincessblog @voidsuccess @littlemissprettyprincess @rosellesworkshop @zen-shu @fleurlx Thank you, babies <3 I'm glad you're here <3 you taught me that I'm in control of my life <3

this is so amazing. thank you so much for sharing this with me ! congratulations ! you deserve it so much. ♡

[lotusmi]

I finally reached my pure consciousness yey ^^

♡The first time I found out about Void State was in November 2021. I had terrible psychology, a bullying family, and a college exam that would determine my life. Every night without rest, I tried to persistently enter with a bad concept.And finally, exactly fifteen months later, I reached that gap.Yes, to return to the very beginning, I am an anxiety and depression patient. That's why bad thoughts are always dancing in my mind. (not anymore hehe ^^) I mixed my own method with the information I learned from you and woke up on February 17 with all my desires <3<3<3

♡I had written my desires in a google docs, and that damn thing was exactly 25 pages. I was constantly worried what if some of them didn't happen and my consciousness ignored some of them. We guess it's complete nonsense, void gives you everything you want ^^

🤍Here are some of my desires;

(i'm sorry I wrote in detail because I like to read in detail -_-)

ღ Name, date of birth, place of birth revision.

ღThe racial diversity in my pedigree. My mother is half French and half Turkish now. My grandmother is half Turkish and half Russian.

ღWhite, smooth, soft, clean, shiny, moist, evenly toned, free from all problems, (blackheads, acne, skin stains, cracks, cellulite, scars and dead layer, dead skin, excess oil, eczema, dandruff, wrinkles, blackout, the capillary blood vessel image, picture, sun spots, wrinkles, hair loss, dry skin, pore), which appears to have Foundation and always flawless, non-porous, permanently I have perfect porcelain skin.

ღI have perfectly sighted, healthy, attractive, bright feline rare green & blue eyes. My eyelashes are long, tight, curled and bushy. Everyone admires my eyes and compliments me. I impress people very well even with my looks. My eyebrows also never come out of excess, they always look symmetrical and perfect in a taken way.

ღI have an extraordinary, aesthetic, attractive, elegant, small, proportional, symmetrical, upturned, S-line nose that looks perfect in every way, looks like a work of art from the side profile, receives compliments and compliments at any time. There is no hair on my nose, there is never any snot on my nose, and this never affects my health badly.

ღI have the most plump, soft, moisturized, symmetrical, attractive, never-cracking pink lips that exist in the entire infinite universe. My lips never crack. I have pearl-lined, healthy, white teeth. My teeth will never turn yellow and will not be damaged. There will never be food residue on my teeth. I have a great smile and laughter. My laughter and smile literally fascinate people. My mouth always smells extremely good.

ღI have a symmetrical, proportioned, masterpiece, flawless, small short skull (angel skull), face, forehead and chin. I have perfect ears, small, proportional to my face. My ears are always clean, there are no hairs, and this never affects my health badly. I have three holes side by side and a helix in my right ear, two holes and an auricle in my left ear. They're all healed up and it never hurts.

ღI have a perfect and attractive hourglass physique. I definitely have an extremely seductive, feminine and sexy body. Upright 90° proportional feminine shoulders, a prominent collar bones, feminine, sexy Ridge, a narrow chest, arms tight slim feminine, upright, rounded, fleshy, erect, the tip is a small, pink tits, Skinny (56 cm), waist, upper and lower tight and tense abdominal, plump,round, and perfectly upright, hips, round hips, a thin medium like the great column proportioned legs looks perfect, attractive, fragrant, plump, tight, tense and white symmetrical labia majora, labia minor short little soft pink, soft pink anus long thin fingers, No. 36 feet clean and looking great at all times, I have white and rasped nails that never break. My toenails never grow, always stay at their ideal height and are always rasped and clean. Hair and feathers never come out on my body except for my hair, eyebrows and eyelashes. I got rid of them permanently. No matter how much I eat, I will not gain weight, my physique and image will not deteriorate. There is a small mole on the top of my left breast and on my neck.

ღI have dense, thick wavy auburn hair that looks perfect, perfect, plump, soft, shiny, does not get electrified, never breaks, never smells bad and does not get greasy, healthy, smells good at any time.

ღEverywhere I am, it always smells extremely clean, attractive, sexy and sweet.  I never sweat or smell bad. A sweat stain never happens. My clothes and underwear always smell very clean, beautiful and sexy.  My toilet, big and small, always smells good. My big toilet never makes a sound. I never have a current. I never gas or burp. This will not harm my health. My vagina and anus always smell extremely beautiful and attractive.

ღI have the ability to sing, ballet, ice skating, piano, cello, draw pictures and write books.

ღI am a graduate of Oxford medicine, harvard mathematics. My IQ is 157. English German French Spanish Italian Russian I speak and understand Turkish, English, German, French, Spanish, Italian, Russian with perfect pronunciation and diction, just like my native language.

ღI have $50,000 in my personal bank account.  I receive a $2,000 scholarship on a monthly basis, one of each month, and I will continue to receive my scholarship until I am 27 years old.

ღi have all the items on the dream wardrobe, dream jewelry & bags, dream shoes & socks, dream tec, dream books and vinyl, dream cosmetic (skin materials match my skin color and each product feels very good on my skin), dream things (gift &cargo section is all shipped and in my room) on my pinterest account.

ღi have a duplex loft house with earthquake resistant, rail system, top floor, attic, bosphorus view. The deed of the house is on me. A large, spacious, modern house with spiral staircase, terrace, American kitchen.  There is both a walk-in shower and a bathtub in my bathroom.The house is designed exactly like my dream. The bills and dues for the house are automatically paid by the company I received a scholarship from. I have a driver's license and I drive perfectly, perfectly. My focus and reflexes are very strong when driving. I have a white range rover. The tax and inspection costs of my car are covered by the company I received a scholarship from. At the same time, I also have a card that I can fill out 10 times every month by the company where I received the scholarship.

ღI look so beautiful and sexy in every way, in every way. When I'm laughing, crying, wet, sleeping, laughing, miming, making love, without makeup, when I've just woken up. I never drool when I sleep, I don't let out gas and I don't get delirious. I always sleep perfectly and beautifully like a baby. 'm Virgin. I give extreme pleasure to the person I'm with, the person I'm kissing. The person in front of me is dependent on my lips and skin. The person who is with me gets more pleasure, excitement and satisfaction than he has ever received before.

ღI'm living the wattpad book life. I always looked the way I wanted and loved the way I wanted. I am the main character of my life. My life is like a novel written in the hand of a perfect writer. Every moment of my life is a book fiction. I have always been rich, successful, lucky and living the perfect life.ღI have a lover who will enter my life on September 9, 2023 and who has been secretly in love with me for 4 years. he's just like in my dreams.. 1.95 bronze skin, amber eye, black hair, scruffy beard, muscular body, long lashes and succulent lips.. He is extremely handsome, sexy and intelligent. It smells masculine and attractive. Both serious and sarcastic.. billionaire, soldier, ceo, underground man. He loves, protects and movies me more than anything in the world. he loves like her baby and makes love like her enemy 🔥 He2s exactly a book guy.

It's been a little long, I'm sorry, but I'm very excited and I'm living my life now. If anyone wants, I can also share how I got in 🤍

@lotusmi @uniquelymeandmyworld2 @voidprincessblog @voidsuccess @littlemissprettyprincess @rosellesworkshop @zen-shu @fleurlx Thank you, babies <3 I'm glad you're here <3 you taught me that I'm in control of my life <3

SUCCESS STORY!!! omgggg angell

I am so pround that you persisted for this long, like, fifteen months?? wowww!! And you diddd ittt I am so happy for you?? I am so happy you won't gave up because look all you gooot!!! And the way you were super specific HHAHAHA!! No but I love all you manifested for youuu, this is so amazing!! Tysm for sharing this 💗 I am so sure your story will inspire a lot of people!! I am excited for you too hhahah 💗Again, tysm for sharing your success baby, I wish you all the best in your life and more! Have an amazing day!

ps: no the book guy part 😭😭😭💗

ps 2: you soo smart and talented?? like omg all those languages and skillllss ps 3: the way you described even the moles 😭😭

@voidsuccess!

[jaeyleo]

I HOPE IM NOT TOO LATE but

Whumpee's head in someone's lap and "I'll be good! i promose!" With corrupt Morus and Reader? 👀

this is sooo old anon i am holding your hands in my hands and hoping you still see this 🥲🫶

a little something while you wait for part 10 of locks or keys, or for those interested in my other works <3!

cws: reader's pov, reader is whumpee, non human whumper, corrupted!marvin au, blood, mentions of torture, knife, non sexual noncon touching, intimate whumper ?? i think?? let me know if i should add more!

. . .

Your bones are chilled to your core.

Blood seeps out of open wounds, glistening in the light like stars in a deep sky. You're so cold, so shakey, so afraid. Your captor kneels beside you, hands roaming over your skin to sink into the cuts and bruises he's made into your flesh. You can't help the whimpers and yelps that crawl up your throat. You just wish you had enough strength left to push him or yourself away.

Pearl eyes stare at the ground while he discovers what's happening to you with his hands. Blood, he feels. Flesh, he feels. Trembling, bone, vessels, nerves, hair standing up on end. Soaked shirt. Tears. Warm face. Warm breath.

He drifts his hands to find the knife again. In a moment of panic, you try to shove yourself off the ground. You get up to your elbows before he snatches your hair, dragging you down so your head meets his lap. He looks down at you, but his eyes see nothing.

"Don't go," he says gently. His hand relaxes in your hair to pet, to soothe. The knife comes to your throat, positioned over your carotid artery. Is he going to kill you?

"Please," you sob, tears dripping hot and fat behind your ear. "I'll be good, I promise, just-- p- please."

Marvin tilts his head. He drapes his hand around your neck to feel the thump, thump, thump, in the vessels. Your heart beats like a rabbit staring at a snake in their burrow. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, only death wrapping itself tight around your body. Only your captor wrapping fingers gentle around your throat.

"I'll be good," he mimics you, whispering. "I'll be good."

He keeps one hand on your pulse, while the other explores the seams of your clothes with the blade.