#scales as pale as moonlight

[mylifeinfiction]

Scales as Pale as Moonlight by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

"She’d been brave. Where was that bravery now?”

Came across this a while back and read it really quickly the other night before starting William Kent Krueger’s new book. It’s a heavy one, thematically, tackling the expectations of motherhood and the fear and grief of the loss of said motherhood. Furthermore, it’s about the folklore and superstitions we cling to in order to perhaps make some sense of such overwhelming loss. It’s a quick one and Silvia Moreno-Garcia does a fine job of creating fleeting moments that evoke the main character’s suffocating sense of loss as she becomes more and more consumed by desperation.

7/10

I don't know if it's where it was originally published, but I read it on Oprah Daily. CLICK HERE to Read.

-Timothy Patrick Boyer.

[deeplovelydark]

sisko's ~flaw~ is his readiness to bend the rules. it allows him to successfully navigate situations where less flexible captains wouldn't stand a chance. it also means that his own principles become murky bendable and optional. hundreds of small deals with the devil and you have to very careful to balance on the edge

[spxllcxstxr]

Vermax • J.V

(Gif not mine)

Request: jacaerys falling in love with a servant girl and taking her for a ride on vermax. -- @sarahisslytherin

Summary: Jacaerys takes a servant girl to see Vermax

Warnings: fem!reader (referred to as girl at some points), servant x prince forbidden romance, dragon stuff, lowkey abrupt ending but oh well

Word Count: 1.2k

A.N: need more smiling jace but DAMN he was fine in this scene, first jace piece, hope it's ok! This wasn’t supposed to be over 1k words lmao

•

The dark corridors of Dragonstone castle twist and turn as Prince Jacaerys pulls you through them. His grip on your wrist is light as it pushes up the sleeve of your red servant’s dress.

The only sounds surrounding the two of you were your steps across the stone floors and both of your panting breaths.

In mere minutes the cool air of Dragonstone hits you as does the grass slick with fresh dew. Any guards near the entrances are cloaked in the darkness.

"Jacaerys," You hiss, careful not to draw any attention to you. "Where are you taking me?"

"Calm yourself, (Y/n), I am only taking you to see Vermax." Jace responds, his pace slowing as he approaches a patch of grass where his dragon frequently can be found.

"Are you feeding me to your dragon, Jace? Is this what this is?"

He snorts at your question. "Not today."

You giggle as Vermax is appears within your vision.

The moonlight shimmers on Vermax's olive green scales. The dragon mesmerizes you, even when stationary. You can't even fathom the fact that Vermax is on the smaller side of the Targaryen dragons.

Jacearys turns to you, the flowing red cape attached to the rest of his riding gear rustles behind him. Your eyes flick to the Prince.

"Do you trust me?" The Prince asks, his gentle brown eyes staring into your own. His thumb rests on your cheekbone. The leather riding gloves obstructs the warm feeling you have come to associate with the Prince. It's comforting nonetheless.

You heart hammers in your chest. Even his lightest of touches always leaves you dazed, but with the addition of a dragon just over his shoulder contributes to your nerves.

"Of course, Jacaerys," You breathe, wiping your sweaty palms against the rough fabric of your dress. The tall grass tickles your ankles.

He hums, lightly pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Do not be afraid, sweet girl, Vermax will do you no harm."

"Are you sure about this, Jace? We could get in trouble--"

"Nonsense, who here would fathom taking issue with the Prince?" Jacearys smirks, making your cheeks burn.

In the moonlight he takes your breath away. Pale skin littered with freckles, the desire to kiss every single one almost taking over.

You follow him as he strides over to his dragon, murmuring in High Valarian. His hands rest atop the dragon's snout.

He whispers to his dragon, gesturing to you to come closer. With your hand trembling slightly, you lightly place it on the dragon's scales, which are hot to the touch.

It takes a bit of maneuvering paired with Jace's help for you to get up on Vermax's saddle--you had barely ridden a horse much less a dragon.

"Might want to hold on tight, (Y/n)." Jacaerys whispers in your ear as he settles behind you. "Vermax is pretty quick."

He shouts a few phrases in High Valyrian and the dragon roars to life, large wings starting to move. As you rise through the air, you can't help but to scream your lungs out.

Higher above the trees, mingling between the clouds, a sense of adrenaline makes you dizzy.

How could anyone get used to this?

You holler and laugh as the wind quickly whips all around you. Your fingers tingle and your heart pound in your chest.

Jacaerys has Vermax climbing high up in the sky before dropping close to the ocean, twisting as you go down.

Eventually, with morning quickly approaching, Vermax coasts just below the clouds, heading towards Dragonstone, which is just a small island in the distance.

Dawn creeps over the horizon, the orange and yellow hues of the early light blending with the sea surrounding you. Your skin bathes in the light. The open sea and sky glitters in your vision. Closing your eyes you deeply inhale, the fresh air filling your lungs. You can feel his eyes watching you intensely. Jace's arms tighten around your waist as he guides Vermax to dive closer to land.

You don't open your eyes until you land and Vermax stops shifting on their feet. Slowly, and with guidance from the Prince, you dismount from the dragon, gently patting their scales once more before taking a few steps back.

“Thank you, Jace,” Your lips gently press against his cheek, red from the wind. "That was..." You search for the words that could possibly describe the experience you just had. "Amazing."

The dawn light highlights the flecks of gold in his eyes and you're unable to look away. His lips tilt up in a smile.

"Oh my sweet girl...I would do anything for you. Showing you all this," He gestures to Vermax's retreating figure in the sky. "It is because I love you."

You take a step back, breath catching in your throat. While the two of you had been sneaking around with each other and kissing in the dark corners of the castle, he had never told you he loved you before. You never thought he could love someone like you. "Jacaerys, I am a mere servant girl, you cannot--"

"I can, (Y/n)." He takes your hands in his, pulling you closer to his body. He smells of dragon and fire. "When my mother is sat on the Iron Throne it will not matter if my heart chooses to be with a serving girl or a lady at court." He squeezes your hands in an attempt to calm your nerves.

You bite your bottom lip, mind and heart racing with swarming thoughts and emotions.

"Do you--do you not love me back?" Jace's dark brows crease with worry.

"Do not be a fool, Jacaerys!" You respond, meeting his eyes. "I have loved you since I met you! But what of Baela? Of politics? You cannot just piss that all away for someone like me!"

"I do not care, (Y/n), please just listen to me!" He moves his hands to frame your face, one of each cheek. They're delicate on your skin. "We will deal with it when we get there, but please let us love each other now before we have to concern ourselves with all of that." Jace's eyes are wide, pleading with you to just say yes.

And how could you resist? You had loved him since you were both children running up and down the stone steps of the castle, him avoiding his duties as a Prince and you avoiding your duties as a servant.

Without saying anything, you surge forward to capture his soft lips in your own. Your own hands move to his neck, stroking the skin there. The two of you had kissed before, many times, in fact, but it was never like this. This was more special in a way you couldn't wrap your head around. It was slow and passionate, like Jacearys was trying to convey to you how much he truly loved you. You try your best to return the sentiment.

Breathlessly, you reluctantly pull away. Your eyes flutter as they meet his own. "Gods, Jacaerys, of course I love you back."

•

[achromatophoric]

Bianca: “Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?”

Wednesday: Of course. She’s a sucker for a good waltz. The real question is— have you ever held back the devil’s hair as she pukes up her guts after losing a drinking competition with my Uncle Fester?

Bianca: *blinks* What the— Bitch, we’re playing Movie Quotes. The answer was Tim Burton’s Batman.

Yoko: *peers at Wednesday* Uh—that was oddly specific.

Enid: *scowls* That was last Saturday.

Yoko: But weren’t you on a like—beach trip with the Addams family last weekend?

Enid: *mutters* If only.

Wednesday: I only said we were traveling to someplace exotic and to pack for hot weather. It was you who assumed—

Enid: WEDNEDSAY! Hell is NOT exotic! HELL–IS–HELL!

Wednesday: Not exotic? Do you know of anyone else who can say that they spent a weekend at the Devil’s own guest house, relaxing to the soothing wails of the damned?

Enid: THAT’S SO NOT THE POINT!

Yoko: 😬

Bianca: 🤔

Bianca: “Now shall you deal with me, O Prince. And all the powers of Hell.”

Enid: *turns excitedly* Maleficent, Sleeping Beauty, 1959!

Bianca: Point to Enid! That puts you in first, while Addams is in dead last with a remarkable— *smirks* —zero points.

Enid: 😊

Wednesday: 😑

Yoko: 🤔

Yoko: 😒

Yoko: 😎

Yoko: Sooooo… outta curiosity, for like purely academic reasons, on a scale of one to ten… just how sexy IS the—

[sp4ceboo]

Within the Storms of Giedi Prime: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: the long awaited part two of upon the sands of the arena is hereeee

tw: 18+, smut (more than last time hehehe), p in v, swearing, Feels™, death, assassination, use of the Voice (not on feyd), less violence but still violence, i lack faith in my sequel writing abilities, blowjobs, SUB FEYDDDD, also DOM FEYDDD, sex Outside, lightning and thunder (it says storms in the title what do you expect)

wc: 4.2k

part 1

Giedi Prime is a miserable planet.

It’s evident in the choking, black smog from the factories in the dense air fused with the anguished cries of overworked slaves and the distant rumble of the still active volcanos. You’re near the Harkonnen’s palace grounds - you’re heading towards them, actually, and the promise of a… pleasant night; to your left, you can just about glimpse the looming silhouette of the great arena, squatting like a hulking beast on the horizon, waiting to swallow any poor soul that gets too close to its gaping maw.

Tonight, roiling storm clouds reign the sky, sending sheets of furious rain pounding down upon anyone who dares to be out at this hour - including you. Harsh bolts of lightning spear down, hurtling towards the ground like incensed, condensed moonlight and casting freakish shadows.

Moonlight: the colour of Feyd’s skin. If it weren’t for him, you’d already be off this sorry planet - alas, you must stay a little longer, your body already a little warm at the memory of his skilled fingers and scorching gaze. You haven’t been back since the encounter with the na-Baron in the arena months ago, and you can’t help but feel the sting of doubt in your chest, wondering if he’ll still want a second time, or if you’ll sneak into his room only to find yourself replaced by a concubine.

Not that you occupy significance to him anyway, you remind yourself. Feyd-Rautha could not replace you, because there would be nothing to replace, just ashes of a once bright fire.

Irked by the weakness of your own mind, you pull the hood of your cloak lower over your face, tightening it across your shoulders. The hem is sullied by browning blood: you disposed of your quarry just this morning, and delivered the decapitated head during the early afternoon.

Conveniently, the Bene Gesserit have left you alone for now, most likely tangled in the politics regarding the Kwisatz Haderach while trying to predict the next movement of Jessica Atreides - word is that she has burrowed her way deeper into the desert, surrounding herself and her son with the more fanatic of the Fremen as she bides her time, ready for her next strike.

It means that you’ve been granted enough time to establish yourself as a bounty hunter. For a highly trained Bene Gesserit, the work is easy, and earns you coin a plenty while keeping you on the move and as in shape as assassinating sloppy idiots attempting to run from debt and petty disagreements can.

Slipping through the palace’s perimeter proves easy enough. You use the Voice on a few guards, preferring it to cutting their throats: instructing them to keep quiet and forget you passed by causes much less of a commotion. The scaling of the ramparts that make up the circumference of the inner palace is the most challenging, due to the stone being slick with moss and rain - your fingers dig into the cracks between the weathered blocks of stone, the wind snapping and tugging at your cloak, fiercer now that you’re higher up.

There’s a narrow battlement ringing one side of Feyd’s room. You land on it silently, padding over to the window sill; curtains made of heavy black fabric layered on a dark, wispy privacy layer shroud most of your view of him. His pale skin is almost luminescent under the jagged flashes of lightning bathing his quarters, the blanket having slipped half off him during the night. He lies with his bare back facing you, although it’s hardly a vulnerability - you doubt anyone would be able to creep up on him easily enough to bury a knife into his exposed back without him tearing their throat out first.

Apart from you - hopefully.

Carefully, you ease the window open. A frigid gust of air rushes in as you climb through, and you witness the exact moment that Feyd awakens and becomes aware of your presence; imperceptibly, the muscles in his back ripple before he settles again - you posticipate the feel of them under your palms, hard, lean, perfect for sinking your nails into.

A thrill rushes through you at the sight of him, a sort of wondrous feeling, keen as a knife and just as cutting. You want him all over you, you want him to consume you until all you can remember is him and his smouldering eyes and sensuous touch.

Shrugging off your cloak, you let it pool to the floor around your feet before toeing off your shoes too; breath caught in your throat, you steal over to his bedside, your hand ghosting over the solid curve of his shoulder blade before you grip his shoulder, turning him so his back is flat against the mattress and straddling him in one fluid motion.

The cold kiss of metal meets your neck.

You almost moan at the look on his face. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, his eyes wild, frenzied almost, glittering with the same danger as before. Running your hands up his hard, sculpted chest, you smirk down at him, watching as ever so slowly, his gelid gaze defrosts with recognition, the ice giving way to those all encompassing flames, flames that you surrender to unequivocally.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ you murmur, fingers circling his wrist.

Feyd blinks, watching you as if he’s going to eat you as always. Slowly, the hand not wielding the knife roams waywardly down your spine, grabs a harsh fistful of your ass and lingers before gliding upwards and settling on your waist. He huffs, an abrupt, amused sound, but you don’t miss the way he greedily drinks up your figure with his eyes.

‘I thought I scared you away, little witch. Presumably, it was not too much for you?’

‘For me?’ You muse. ‘We’ll see.’

Knocking the blade from his hand, you ignore the screeching noise it makes as it skitters across the stone floor, instead enjoying the subtle inhale, loaded with expectancy, that Feyd takes as you lean in close to him. You hover above him for a prolonged moment, arms boxing him in, before he lurches upwards, connecting your lips with his.

A growl sounds at the back of his throat when he tastes you, licking into your mouth as his fingers press at the small of your back, bringing your lower body to meet his. Rolling his hips against yours, he tangles his fingers in your hair; you feel giddy with the feel of him against you, solid and warm and wanting, so real beneath you, so fucking insatiable.

You can’t get enough of him.

Slowly, you pull away, ablaze with the ravening craving in his eyes. The muscles in his well shaped chest flex as he tips his face up, following your lips, and you smile disarmingly at him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his trousers and pulling them down.

Taking his chin in your palm, you tilt his head so you can look him in the eyes before swiping your thumb over his lower lip, savouring the way he’s putty in your hands: a man destined to be the Baron of one of the most influential, powerful Houses in the Imperium, a lethal, strikingly skilled warrior, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, humbled by your touch.

‘Let me taste you,’ you breathe - it’s almost a command.

‘Please,’ he chokes out, imploring you with his eyes.

Laughing, you press a hand to his sternum and push. He sinks back into the mattress, compliant, and you trail your lips down his neck and sternum, leaving hickeys in your wake. You're seized by the need to make him shake and beg and cry; you want to devour him.

Dragging your nails cruelly down his thighs, branding him with livid red scratches, you tilt your head to the side, a smile playing upon your lips as you listen to the groan that leaves him, the pricks of pain setting him alight with longing. There’s a devout look in his eyes - a fervent, zealous sort of lust that stirs within you with the impulse to make him forget his own name.

Curling your fingers around his hard length and giving him a few pumps, you watch him under your lashes, something akin to a power rush spinning your head around and around. Feyd is wonderfully sensitive, and a sneer pulls at your lips when his fingers scramble for purchase, fisting in his silky sheets as you press a chaste, loitering kiss to his cock head - a pearl of jet precum sits at the apex of it, dark against its rosy, delicate flush.

Dipping your hand into your pants, you collect your slick on your fingers and use it to jerk him - when you glance up, his pupils are blown wide; lips parted, he stares at you, transfixed.

Eyes locked on his, you take him in your mouth: his thighs tighten, every muscle taut as you run your tongue along the veins wrapped around the underside of his cock. His head tips back, displaying the strong lines of his neck as you hollow your cheeks, rubbing your thighs together to ease the increasing ache between them. Jaw slack, you gag when he hits the back of your throat, and he growls at the sight of your hungry eyes growing watery.

You toy with him, teasing him with your tongue and grazing your teeth lightly over his length until he’s gasping your name; the way the syllables leave his tongue is almost pleading, his chest heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, his thighs shuddering, wracked with tremors.

It’s evident that he’s close, the voracity in his eyes so hot that it melts your bones, sending heat pooling in your core - you’re going to let him wreck your cunt after this; ruin you for any other man. Trembling, his pale fingers hover near your head, splaying over the expanse of your shoulder, his eyes fucking begging for permission, so you pull off him, laughing as his hips jolt forward at the loss, his cock twitching when your fingertips graze his balls.

‘Go on, Feyd,’ you coax. ‘Do as you wish.’

A tender, honeyed noise rips from low in his chest, almost a whimper, a sound you know no one has extracted from him before. It’s the only warning before he fists his hand in your hair, hips bucking as he fucks into your mouth, his eyes rolling back as you gag around him, the debased moan that escapes you sending vibrations down his cock.

You almost black out when he comes down your throat. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of air reaching your lungs or the sweet pain of Feyd’s hand yanking at your hair, but you’re sure that you’ve never taken so much pleasure in someone else’s release. Slowly, you sit up, moving to lie beside Feyd, and he smiles dumbly at you, maybe a little fucked out as he leans in to kiss you, sighing as he tastes his own come on your tongue.

‘I could spend hours exploring you, my little witch,’ he says, pressing his lips to your jaw.

Feyd flips you over with only an echo of ferocity from your previous fight, disrobing you and gripping your thighs, spreading them. Your hands find his shoulders, his back, your fingers resting in the dips of muscle there, trailing down the length of his spine as his own find your slick, yearning cunt.

Outside, the storm blows harder, rain pounding down upon the planet’s surface in sheets, lightning lancing through the thick billows of clouds; it is during one of these strikes that you glimpse that Feyd’s eyes are not as dark as they seem, but the colour of glaciers and blue fire. Within them, just beneath the keenness of his electric gaze, lurks something else - something that makes you hesitate. He senses it immediately, fingers pausing their movement, so you fit your lips to his.

You kiss him to avoid the emotions roiling in his stormy eyes.

He responds immediately, and you easily dismiss the thoughts clouding your mind; he barely knows you, there’s no room for the feelings you just saw in his gaze. You seek his body, not his soul, and it is the same both ways.

‘Fuck me,’ you mumble against his lips.

All coherent sentences leave your mind when he flips you over again, this time with your stomach pressed to his bedsheets as he kneels on the mattress behind you.

‘Ass up, my little witch,’ he commands.

Something within you goes molten at the sound of his voice. You can feel his gaze straying all over your skin, greedy, so you tuck your knees beneath you and arch your back, biting down on your lower lip as his palm presses against your lower vertebrae. He chuckles; it warms your bones.

‘You’re so filthy, little witch, displaying yourself for me.’

Bolts of ecstasy shoot through you as Feyd slides his cock head through your folds, his broad hands gripping your hips so tightly that you’ll be left with bruises. Your breath is punched from your lungs when he sinks himself inside you, balls deep, white hot pleasure rocketing down your spine - it tears a wretched cry from you, more so when he starts a brutal, near sadistic pace, the angle destroying you with vicious bliss.

The drag of his searing, velvet cock on your walls makes your toes curl. You think your body might shatter into a million pieces, the way he plucks the euphoria from it so agonisingly, so beautifully. One of his hands finds its way between your thighs, his thumb rolling endlessly over your clit; you find yourself teetering on the edge, suspended there a moment before you fall.

The way your cunt convulses around his cock as you come doesn’t stop Feyd. Unforgiving, he ploughs into you, his fingers still working on your clit, not breaking his rhythm even as you writhe beneath him, trying to jerk your hips away from his to no avail. It’s too much, the pleasure melting delectably into pain and still he can’t stop, won’t stop, his low snarl a warning in your ear as he pins you to the mattress with a hand between your shoulder blades, leaving you helpless to do nothing but take him.

Tears well up in your eyes, soaking into the sheets beneath you as he rails into you, his fingers speeding up on your clit until you’re begging him, tremors shooting through you from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His grip on your hips is unrelenting, and you sob as his pace increases, the savage friction sending you over again.

For the second time, you come hard around him, pussy clenching and fluttering, ragged cries wracking your body. This time, you bring Feyd with you, the sound he makes sharp and almost pained. He pulls out, and you mewl at the sharp tug of friction, panting as he comes on your back and ass, claiming you with his dark seed.

Breathless, he sits back on his heels as you straighten your legs until you lie full stretch, revelling in the post orgasmic rapture. Dimly, you hear his footsteps on the stone floor, but you pay them no mind, instead letting your eyelids droop as you rest your chin in the crook of your elbow.

Gentle hands encircle your ankles, carefully opening your legs. A second later, you feel a warm cloth at the apex of your thighs, and you whine, flinching away from the overstimulation. You hear Feyd’s chuckle, and the comforting sweep of his thumb against your skin as he cleans you up, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses on your back as he does; barely a moment after, the mattress dips, and strong arms pull you into a warm chest.

‘How are you, my little witch?’

You hum in response, not wanting to use words. Something niggles at your brain, even through the haze of pleasure. It’s got to do with the na-Baron’s gentleness after he fucks you; it unsettles you, the sweetness of him, and now these words, as if you’re a lover, and not… whatever this is.

One of his wide palms runs up and down your ribs, and you shove those thoughts to the side, instead enjoying his touch, the way your body fits into his, his chest pressed against your front as he traces patterns on your skin with his deft fingers; his lips brushing the nape of your neck, leaving soft kisses there. You find yourself curling away from him a little - his hands on you make something deep in your chest stir to life, something that shouldn’t be there. It’s -

A blinding flash of lightning, followed by the deep, throaty growl of thunder illuminates the room. You’re facing the door: in the crack between its solid masonry and the floor, you glimpse a shadow.

Hastily, you turn, one hand meeting Feyd’s chest, fingers falling into the dip his collarbone makes as you search his eyes, urgent. He stares back at you, not quite guarded, but not quite open any more, and you’re filled with the urge to protect.

‘Give me your knife,’ you hiss.

He sits up halfway. ‘What’s - ’

You push him back down, glaring at his resistance. You can sense the change in the air, hear the subtle scrape of someone’s boot across the stone floor and the swish of clothing behind the door - or maybe it’s just the building storm outside, the escalating charge in the sky as another bolt of lightning is generated.

‘Feyd. Give me your knife.’

Eyes quizzical, he produces it from somewhere behind him, handing it to you hilt first. It’s just in time, because the door swings open, a masked figure silhouetted there. You whirl around, covering Feyd’s body with your own.

They’re holding a knife.

It doesn’t take you a moment longer to send your knife hurtling towards them. The blade seethes through the air before embedding itself with a thunk into the assassin’s shoulder, and as they drop to the floor, you’re up in another second, poised in case there’s another. A flash of movement catches your eye - the dropped knife, retrieved and held in blood soaked fingers.

‘Stand down,’ you snap.

The Voice echoes through the room, and you pluck the knife out of the now frozen assassin’s grasp and slit his throat. Turning, you see the glimmer of amusement and awe in Feyd’s eyes; assassination attempts probably occur often, an estranged Bene Gesserit using the Voice in his room less so.

‘So many people seem eager to sneak into my bed chamber tonight,’ he remarks. ‘Although I must admit I preferred the first one.’

You laugh, collecting your clothes off the floor. ‘I’m glad.’

As you pull on your trousers, followed closely by your shirt, Feyd gets up, and you’re struck by the slow manner in which he approaches you, so much like the way he prowled towards you in the arena, but this time his eyes concerningly soft, his deadly, killing machine of a body marked with hickeys and love bites.

‘Why do you always rush to leave so fast, my little witch?’

‘I - I have places to be,’ you stammer.

He tilts his head. ‘At this hour of the night?’

‘...Yes.’

Feyd takes one step closer, close enough to kiss. ‘What are you afraid of?’

You back towards the window. ‘I fear nothing.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ he warns. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’

Shaking your head, panic rising in your throat, you turn, the glass chilly on your fingers as you open the window. Feyd catches your other hand, but you whirl around and lash out, a blow to the face followed by a blow to the legs, and he staggers backwards, giving you enough time to slip out of the window and onto the battlements.

Outside, the storm has whipped up, the howling wind tearing at your hood and blowing it off, the rain immediately pouring down to soak your hair, sting your eyes, wet your face. You need to run, you need to get away from him, but the weak part of you - the part that you fear - slows your strides, tugging at you as if it’s tied to Feyd somehow.

He catches up to you easily enough.

Of course he does, he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, and he is inexplicably bound to your soul in a way you cannot describe, in a way that terrifies you, shakes you to your very core. He catches your with a hand around your upper arm and presses you to his chest, your treacherous body reacting to him the way it always has as he stares down at you with those burning, icy eyes, droplets of rain running in rivulets down the moonlight planes of his chest.

Unease tears through you. You see it in his eyes, that he feels it too, and you dread the way it does not disquiet him. Your soul feels like it’s slowly rending in two - you need to get away from him, from the unguarded way he regards you, dedication clear in his unwavering gaze, but all the same, you need to remain with his arms trapping you to him, in the bewildering magnetism of his psyche.

‘Tell me what you fear, my little witch.’

You answer through clenched teeth. ‘I am not yours.’

‘You evade my question.’

You stare at Feyd, confounded. This man before you is the same man that you duelled in the arena, yet he is different; there is a certainty in his eyes, an acceptance that you yourself flee from. You’re drawn to him, even as the instincts that have kept your hollow heart intact all these years squall for you to break loose - and yet you fear that too, the evasion, because you know that if you run now, a part of you will be lost, snapped under the tension.

‘What do you - ’

You cut Feyd off. ‘Do you know what I fear, Harkonnen? I fear the look in your eyes, because it’s not just desire any more. You do not seek me in order that I inflict pain and pleasure alike upon you, you seek something else. I fear the look in your eyes because it is the same feeling that rises traitorously in my chest when I look at you, and it terrifies me.’

He’s silent.

You grab his shoulder. ‘Tell me you feel nothing, Feyd. Tell me you crave me for the thrill of adrenaline and the feel of my body - tell me and do not lie.’

His eyes bore into yours. ‘I cannot.’

‘Exactly.’

You wrest yourself from his grasp, turning and striding down the battlements. A strange feeling overtakes you, a prickle behind your eyes and a lump in your throat, an aching tug at your heart which you stalwartly ignore. It is over - you’re done. He made it harder than it ever had to be, but you’re going now.

He grabs your hand. ‘You cannot either, my little witch.’

Struggling, you snarl at him, clawing at your chest, but he pins you to the wall, his eyes aflame, searing, calling to something in you that rises up to meet him. This time, it is too strong; you cannot push it down, a part of you not even wanting to. You can feel Feyd all over you, your senses overwhelmed by him, by the way he presses his forehead to yours, forcing you to meet his gaze.

‘You do not have to fear it,’ he whispers. ‘Just let go. You’re holding on too tight.’

He dips his head, claiming your lips. You give in, yield to it, let it wash over you and carry you away on its blissful waves, your heart swelling in your chest at the way he touches you, tenderly, as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon; this is not Feyd, but this is him, irrefutably so.

You think this might be love.

It is a wild, white hot blade in your heart that twists, beauteous, enthralling. You believed that it would weaken you, shackle you, but you blaze with the glorious flare of it, the kiss of Feyd’s hips against yours stoking it further. Truly, it is magnificent.

In the only way you know how, you show him. It’s cataclysmic, the way you’re pulled to him like a comet caught in a planet’s gravity, streaking towards him, fated to collide, your hands roving over him, his over you, the taste of rain blooming on your tongue as you bite down on his shoulder, muffling a moan as he ekes sweet, tender pleasure from you. Your head tips back against the stone, eyes raised to the weeping sky, your lips parted as he fills you with his cock.

Feyd looks at you as if you are a goddess. He worships you, cradles you in his arms, anchoring you, grounding you. You do not know where he ends and you begin, nor do you want to know; you wish for your souls to meld, you wish for the two of you to be alone in the universe, unbothered by time or fate or anything.

‘You are mine, little witch,’ he intones against your rain soaked skin. ‘I am yours.’

[ahqkas]

I have like a supernatural request and I’m obsessed with mermaids…LIKE 😕 but I would like to request something where mattheo is by a lake. He heard a lot about how there’s a Hogwarts mermaid by this lake. But she only comes out at night. Reader’s scales are so beautiful and it makes him memorized and he starts to sneak out a lot to see her.

-🦋anon

PRECIOUS LIKE THOSE PEARLS ; mattheo riddle

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE BLACK LAKE WAS CALM AND STILL UNDER THE PALE LIGHT OF THE CRESCENT MOON. Mattheo Riddle stood at the water's edge, his eyes scanning the dark surface, hoping for a glimpse of the creature he'd heard whispers about. The air was cool, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. He'd been coming here every night for the past week, driven by curiosity and a strange, unexplainable pull. Something must be in this lake.

Tonight, however, felt different. The usual silence of the lake seemed charged with an interesting energy. As he stood there, he noticed a faint shimmer beneath the water, a glimmer that was neither a reflection of the moon nor a trick of the light. His heart quickened as he took a step closer.

Suddenly, the water's surface broke, and a figure emerged. You were breathtaking, with scales that glimmered like precious jewels in the moonlight. They ranged from deep emerald green to a soft, iridescent blue, shifting and sparkling with her every movement. Your eyes, perhaps shining even more than the scales, locked onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"You're the mermaid," Mattheo exclaimed softly, more to himself than to you. His breath hitched in the back of his throat.

You tilted your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips. "And you must be the boy who has been watching me."

Your voice was melodic, carrying a soothing quality that matched your ethereal appearance. Mattheo felt his breath hitch for the second time in a minute, captivated by the sight before him. He nodded slowly, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The shock of your appearance resided in his system.

"Call me [Name]," you replied, eyes twinkling with curiosity as you swam closer, examining his human features. "And you are?"

The boy appeared almost like from another realm. He was beautiful. His features, so distinctly human, seemed strange to you. The round curve of his ear, the redness of his cheeks. Only the look in his eyes matched yours. Wild curiosity for the other world.

"Mattheo," he answered, taking another cautious step closer. "I've heard stories about you. They say you only come out at night."

A chuckle escaped past your lips, a sound that reminded Mattheo of the tinkling of small bells. "The night is my comfort, where I feel most at home. It's safer, too. Humans can be . . . unpredictable."

"I suppose we can be. But I'm not here to harm you. I just wanted to see if the stories were true."

"And now that you've seen me?" you asked him the question, your gaze never really leaving his.

"I'm more mesmerized than I ever thought I would be," he admitted. "Your scales . . . they're beautiful." You are beautiful.

"Thank you," your smile widened upon hearing his words. "It's rare for someone to see me like this. Most are too afraid or simply don't believe."

"Well, I'm not most people," Mattheo said with a hint of pride. "I've always been drawn to the mysterious, the things others overlook or dismiss." And it was the truth. Mattheo had always been curious, his caretakers used to say.

Your eyes softened, and you swam a little closer to the shore, towards him. "Why do you come here, Mattheo? What is it that you seek?"

He thought for a moment, considering your question. "I don't know," he finally said. "Maybe I'm looking for something beyond the ordinary. Something that makes me feel alive."

"You find that in me?" you asked, a touch of vulnerability in your voice. No one has ever treated you with such kindness. No one from the human world, that’s it.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "There's something about you, [Name]. Something magical." And it wasn’t the Hogwarts.

For a moment, the two of you simply looked at each other, the silence between you filled with an unspoken understanding. Then, you broke the spell.

"Would you like to come closer?" asking, you extended a palm toward him.

Mattheo hesitated for only a second before he knelt by the water's edge, reaching out to take your hand. Your touch was cool and soft, sending a shiver up his spine. You gently pulled him closer, and he found himself sitting on the damp ground, his feet almost touching the water, knees soaking the dampness in.

"Tell me about your world," you proposed, eyes wide with interest. "What's it like above the surface?"

Mattheo smiled, realizing he had so much to share. "It's . . . chaotic and beautiful all at once. There are mountains and forests, bustling cities and quiet villages. People can be wonderful, but also terribly complicated. It's a world full of contradictions."

"That sounds fascinating," your voice was full of wonder. "I wish I could see it for myself."

"Maybe one day," Mattheo said, his tone hopeful. "But for now, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

You spent hours like that, talking and sharing stories. Mattheo told you all about Hogwarts, the magical creatures, and the adventures he'd had. You, in turn, shared tales of the lake, its hidden depths, and the creatures that dwelled within. With every word, the two of you grew closer, the bond between you strengthening.

As the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you let out a sigh. "I have to go. The sun is rising."

"Will I see you again?" Mattheo asked, not wanting your time together to end. He has never felt more connected with someone.

"Yes," you promised. "Come back tomorrow night. I'll be here."

With one last, lingering look, your figure slipped beneath the water, disappearing from sight. Mattheo stood up, his heart full of a strange mix of emotions. He knew he would return, drawn back to the lake by the pull of the mysterious mermaid who had captured his heart. As he walked back to the castle, he couldn't stop thinking about you, the night you had shared, and the promise of more to come.

[naffeclipse]

Warm Fangs

Naga!Sun x Reader. Sickness.

Prev

As you sleep, the fever worsens. Chills hit you with a violent shudder. The heat from the sickness flees under the quaking cold. You moan softly, curling up tighter. A soft hiss shushes you but you can’t find anything warm, anything warm at all.

The smooth brush of scales loosens from around you. The outside cold slips away from your feverish skin but stays within.

“It hasn’t broken yet,” Moon murmurs distantly. Cold fingertips brush your hair, damp from sweat, away from your forehead. A whine leaves you. You hate how pathetic it sounds inside your head.

“Oh, no. I was afraid it might linger with our poor lily pad,” Sun lowers his voice but he’s not as quiet as his brother, holding a stage whisper more than an actual whisper. You might have smiled if you weren’t bothered by the mottled moonlight giving way to a blue-bright early morning sky. 

It doesn’t feel warm. The sun is supposed to reheat the earth and take away the frost filling your chest with a shivering revolt.

A few quiet exchanges slip away in your near unconsciousness. Gingerly, you become weightless, lifted into the air like a feather before pressed into other arms. Heat, raw and covering, finally touches your body. You breathe out a low sigh, eyelids fluttering to peek up at the source of the heat. The form softly sways as you’re carried away.

“It’s going to be alright,” Sun hums. He looks down at you, his spiky frills flaring around his head in golden hues before the shadow of the cave eclipses the morning sun. “Don’t move, my water lily, you’re still sick.”

“Hmm, I’m fine,” you half moan. Your eyes fall close again. A tender soreness soaks into every muscle, especially at your neck and your shoulders. The deep, deep ache that refuses to go away. 

You shudder with another chill. Sun clicks his tongue in concern, the forked end whipping with a snapping worry. 

“You amaze me, truly. Even in the throes of illness, you’re still so stubborn.” He laughs softly, endearing but in a way that almost makes you push yourself out of his steady arms. He doesn’t get to think you’re cute. Not right now, when you feel how sticky your body is and how weak your limbs dangle as he carries you deeper into the cave you’ve made a shelter within.

“Sun,” you softly groan.

“Save your strength to fight the fever, not me.” A soft peck of his scaly mouth touches your temple. You nearly dissolve under his doting command. “You need to rest and do as I say so you can feel better. I don’t like to see you like this.”

You, in a reflective, rebellious instinct, almost try to kick out your feet and find solid ground, but Sun lowers you to the cold, cave floor. You’re seized by another icy torrent of coldness. Hugging your arms, you quietly groan. A soft swell of tears teem over your eyelids. That’s from the sickness, you tell yourself. You’re not crying because Sun and his sweet warmth let you go.

“I’ll be gone for only a moment, lily pad. Hold on for me, okay?” he singsongs.

You want to snatch the heat that had held back the torturous chills. Lifting your heavy eyes, you scour the dimness of the cave, catching sight of Sun’s long body softly slipping over the stone towards the shelves that were chipped into the wall of the cavern. The rich yellow hues of his scales are bright even in the shadows of rocks. The markings along his waist and around his throat are scarlet and vibrant with warning of his venom. You watch the outline of Sun’s defined shoulders move, taking and gathering, collecting a pale pink blossom you can’t currently name.

Pressed against the wall in a sleepy bundle of his scales, Moon watches you, eyes half lidded but attentive. You didn’t hear him enter. His hands open and close, as if to reach for you. He holds back. You frown at his distance but recall his cool scales through the midnight fever, and drowsily, in fitful half-sleep, wait for Sun.

He returns with a skim over the floor. His presence washes over you with hope.

“Don’t cry, my water lily. I’m here,” Sun coaxes with gentle mirth. A crooked finger swipes the leaking liquid from your eyes.

“Not crying,” you grumble, voice croaking like a frog. “Not a water lily.”

“Oh, I’m going to have to disagree and blame your lack of sense on the sickness,” he chirps as if you were simply the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.

You pry your eyelids open for a glare. You certainly are not a beautiful and grandiose flower. Not right now in your freezing weakness.

Moon’s hissing laughter echoes. It fills you with another short burst of irate energy that lasts for only the moment of his humor. Sun tuts and shoots Moon a look before gently cradling you. The golden naga guides you upright with a tender hand supporting your back. He rests your head on his shoulder, his underside a shiny, pale cream color, and the gentle heat of his body burns away the chills holding you down. 

He lifts up a small flower, pale pink and pom-pom like on the end of a slender, green stalk.

“Eat this. It’ll make you feel better,” he softly insists.

You eye the flower as if it were a venus flytrap, and you were a particularly weak fly.

“What is it?” you murmur.

“I’ve heard humans call it a sensitive plant, sometimes called touch-me-not. If you had told me you weren’t feeling well early, you could have had this sooner.” The chasiting does not evade your awareness. Sun lowers the plant closer, as if offering a rose instead of medicine. “It will help with your fever and chills.”

“Ugh,” you turn your head ahead. The thought of eating when you have no appetite rears an ugly head within you. “I don’t need it.”

“I disagree strongly, lilypad,” Sun crones in disapproval. “Once you eat it, you’ll start to feel better.”

The soft lift to his tone invades you. You want to squirm, keep turning away from the offered medical plant, but Sun’s warmth surrounds you entirely. Gently, his finger guides your cheek until you face him once more.

“Please, won’t you, for me?” His cornflower blue eyes hold you with his plea. From the corners of his wide mouth, the very tips of fangs glint, but you’re not afraid of his bite. He saved you with his venom, once.

You grimace and force your lips to part. Murmuring praises and coaxes alike in a soft, musical tone, Sun presses the flower head to your mouth until you bite it off, and chew laboriously. It tastes green and dry. He watches you, hawk-like, ensuring you masticate the soft, brittle like petals before swallowing against the vicious dryness of your throat. You gasp after gulping.

His smile grows like a sunbeam at sunrise.

“See? It wasn’t so bad.” He tenderly rubs his mouth against your forehead. “Thank you."

The heat of his affection battles the cold underneath your skin, and when you shiver, he holds you tighter. You fall deeper under his fondness.

"This will pass and you’ll be in tip-top shape again,” he says softly, brimming with heated hope.

Oh, Sun. You want to curse him. You want to tell him that he can’t talk like that, melting your insides and making you nothing but an ooey-gooey mess, but you can’t. You are swept away by his sweet tones. 

No one but Sun unbalances you and catches you in the same motion. He’s disarming. He's the only thing that feels right.

You slump against him in another full-body shudder. Softly humming, Sun begins rearranging your limp form, draping your legs across his deliciously warm tail as the dark end wraps your lower legs. The tightness of his coils used to frighten you before you realized how summery and soft he is. He tucks you gently against his arm, lying down to become your personal pillow.

You are so useless. It’s a miracle you haven’t faded away by now—a miracle of two nagas, no less.

“It’s also called humble flower,” he continues with a soft note. “Perhaps you could take that aspect from it as well, my water lily.”

You moan, unable to offer a rebuttal that you are no flower, but his gentle embrace covers you entirely. His chest thrums lightly with a heartbeat you’ve listened to before. A soft hum fills his throat. He continues pressing his mouth against your cheek, the crook of your neck, and the top of your head as if smothering the clammy effect attempting to surface on your body.

“Soon, you’ll rise and we can stroll through the jungle and find more flowers, more flowers like you, and you’ll feel better. Doesn’t that sound nice?” he chatters endlessly.

You can only snuggle deeper against his chest, against his warm, smooth scales, better than any patch of sunlight, and trust in him.

[n0tamused]

HOLY SHIT FUCK ME SIDEWAYS THAT DRAGON WUWA POST?????? EMUACH

thoughts on dragon calcharo and scar tho??? if u have any,,,, if not, its oki too take ur time😚

A/n: HELLO NOBUUU!!! <3 I'm so happy you liked the first part oml, and I'm more than happy to give a part two to that as well! I didn't expect people to ask about my OC too, but that's really sweet and decided to include her at the end too :,) Hope you enjoy! Lemme know if you guys want anyone else as dragons, HSR, Genshin or Wuwa

Contents: Calcharo, Aalto, Scar x reader, Encore (strictly platonic familial stuff), Jien(oc), fluff, dragons

Wuthering Waves characters as dragons pt.2

Calcharo:

-Another dragon that is a long way from his home and closely related to the dragons of the New Federation. 

-Not the one you see around too often, as he does tend to avoid civilization where he can, even avoiding flying if that would get him too much attention, but honestly he is really pretty to see in flight-

-He is scarily beautiful, and some people managed to catch a picture or two of him in flight from afar, so it’s one of those blurry “is it a unicorn” pictures that people spread around like wildfire

-Due to his lack of contact with others, a lot of ghost tales began to circulate around him, and gossip has it that he wasn’t born as he looks now. People say he was born pure as snow, but somewhere down the line, the gods cursed him, and now he physically bears that curse in the shape of tough black scales that spread over him unevenly, and the golden star on his chest is said to be the only place a blade can pierce him. A few courageous, or rather stupid, individuals did try to test this theory for glory and money that an anonymous bidder has set on Calcharo’s head. But those people were never heard from again.

-The climate around Jinzhou is not his favorite, so he tends to retreat into the mountains a lot where there’s a cooler breeze and colder caves to rest in properly. His mane helps him with regulating body heat, but it is in no way made for summer heat.

-It is said that Calcharo and Jiyan are in amiable talks with one another, with both patrolling the territory of Jinzhou and protecting it in their own ways. Two sides of the same coin, as one would say. Jiyan has also made attempts at bringing Calcharo to meet the others, to get to know the people, and when he did Calcharo was rather reluctant to leave his dragon form, and he walked there in his towering form. But when he was met with wonder, warm welcomes and greetings and with some small pushing from Jiyan, he caved in and showed the people his human form as well. Sure, there was some reluctance in people’s eyes as well, but their General vouched for this newcomer and told them of the feats he accomplished in the name of them or their protection, and they had faith in their General Jiyan.

-From that point on, the ghost tales did lessen, and the children of Jinzhou seemed to find it easier to wander further into the woods, and the adults found it easier to relax with two of the strongest dragons patrolling the territory. 

-However, Calcharo wouldn’t be able to cover all that vast territory alone, and from a long while ago he has pulled a few trusted ones into his fold and under his wing. 

-Be it other dragon folk like him, or regular people, he has many ears and eyes all over the lands, to the point he doesn’t even need to leave his mountain cave to know what goes on in the city at the foot of the mountain. Due to this, even if people began to regard him as an ally, they still do not dare to provoke him in any way, and criminals have begun to walk on their tip toes, afraid to poke one of Calcharo’s spies or men that he was so protective of. 

-Calcharo doesn’t hoard much of anything in his caves. Perhaps some weapons, but for the most part it is all barren. Sometimes moonlight shines into the cave from some hole in the ceiling of the cave, making his mane the color of beaten silver, and making all his markings go pale. He nearly looks covered in snow, pure white again.

-He doesn’t like you traveling so far up the roads just to see him, but if you do, he does keep you around for a few days to make your journey worth it. In that short time you stay with him, you find his cave gets quickly filled with supplies necessary for you to have an enjoyable/comfortable time.

-He doesn’t often nap or sunbathe, he also claims the sun hurts his scales. Due to their uneven thickness and distribution, one part of him could benefit from a bit of the sun, but the other would just start burning. 

-Although he looks like he is constantly scowling and sneering, he does greatly appreciate your presence. The quiet around, and the exploration you two seem to undertake suddenly seems more lively and worth the time to look at.

-Be it that you’re dragonkin or just a human, he does take you for a flight. Sometimes he does this if he is mid patrol or mid mission and he can’t just keep you behind. He knows he has what it takes to defend you, so he doesn’t mind you tagging along.

-His mane is also  free real estate bed, go ahead and bury yourself in it and while you’re at it you can also use another strand of his long mane as a blanket.

-He smells fresh too.

Aalto:

-One of the friendliest dragons, and he certainly looks the part as well with how soft he may look and behave. He is the dragon people see a lot around, and some claim he brings down the morning mists and others say he can wash clouds away with his wings to make way for the sun, but that’s all folktale. He can create mist and make his escape safe and quick, or his attack, but he finds fun in other folktales that surround him.

-Due to his breed, he really doesn’t look fit for battle, and many dragons misjudged him for his lack of limbs that could otherwise serve in a fight. But, naturally, they are wrong about him. 

-While Aalto lacks in mass, size and limbs, he makes up for all of it in agility, speed and intellect, using whatever environment is around him to his advantage, and you’d be surprised how much strength his talons have. 

-He has a lot of power in him for a seemingly “weightless dragon”.

-Aalto is also often seen near or around little Encore. And when she begins to stir trouble, or trouble finds them, he is quick to snatch her up in his talons like an eagle snatches a fish out of a lake, and flies off into the mist to disappear

-Aalto is also not the one to hide in his dragon form. He understands that he is already perceived as “weak” to some extent, driving some to believe he isn’t even worth attacking, and so he sees it as no harm in indulging in human activities as well, which also have their own merits and advantages, especially in his field of work. How else is he supposed to get all that information if he is this one big stumbling beast? Come on! This is Aalto! He knows way better than to let gossip stop him.

-Even if the gossip was the other way around, he would be sure in his skills to take on whoever goes after him. His senses are as sharp as a blade, and he does notice a lot even if he doesn’t let it on, especially since he doesn’t let it on.

-He has quite a characteristic chirp in his dragon form, it is a really sweet and comforting sound and can sometimes mean playtime, and he often uses it when Encore is around or some other kids that he is around with in that moment.

-Although he is very well met with people all around the place, he does his best to not let any of them get under his skin and worm themselves in his heart, as such could mean potential danger in his missions. So while he is surrounded by people, he does sometimes feel left out and alone.

-You seem to melt all that away though, standing at his side and twining your fingers with his before taking him to get food or drinks, saying how much his absence was noted, not just by you but by others as well. The lady that lives next to you that has grown accustomed to seeing Aalto come to your door with gifts and meals has begun to ask if he left you, already preparing a mouthful of scolding words, but upon your reassurance that he was simply working, she quieted down. And the kids in the streets began to wonder where their “sky dragon” had gone off too. They do this every time, no matter how many times he leaves for work.

-His mane isn’t fur, and although in some places his feathers give the illusion of fur, they’re just fine and thin feathers that are also well kept and clean. You can swear the mist has something to do with it. 

-Aalto often does leave behind a feather or two for you to keep before a trip, and slowly this big vase in the back of the house is starting to overflow with giant feathers of your lover

-He brings you other gifts too, some of them big so they only fit in your yard, and others smaller that fit inside your house

-He is quite the cuddly dragon with you, but be warned he does love to snatch you up and take to the skies when you least expect it

Encore:

-Make way for Encore! This sweet little baby brings a lot to the table, even much more than any other dragon ever - Aalto probably 

-She is the sweetest, and she is such a ball of energy, it can be hard for anyone to keep up with her. She loves to play with other children that are around, usually giving them rides on her back since she is still a bit big in comparison to a grown adult, let alone a small child. She dares them all to stay on her back while she jumps and bucks and  rolls around- which, hey, can be dangerous and Aalto makes sure there is no rolling at least unless they want someone to become a human pancake

-Due to her age, her scales have only now begun to grow and form, making them soft and easily damaged. Aalto tends to get Encore to spend more time in human form than dragon form, just for safety sake. But at the moment, due to the exact reason for her scales forming, she has to spend more time as a dragon to give her scales proper space and time to grow and develop.

-Her friends give her all sorts of gifts, bows and sweets and clips, and they help her comb her hair since it is now harder for her to do so..etc

-The two sheep plushies she usually carries in her human form are now like ants in her claws but she still has them following her, like flies compared to her

-She is a restless sleeper, and usually goes to power naps in some warm grass, giving Aalto a heart attack when he just disappears, but she is back quickly enough, hopping like a deer through grass. 

-The creatures of the woods both love her and fear her. Love her since she is a lot more like them and is respectful, but she is just too loud and during playtime can get a bit rough

-Here comes Aalto to snag her up.

Scar:

-Scar is another kind of dragon that hasn’t been seen around before, at all really. He is one of a kind, and quite scary while he’s at it too. Not only is he a giant, but his horns give him such a haunting appearance. If you were to see him in the night, his towering shadow and giant horns paired with four glowing eyes staring into your soul, you wouldn’t feel the best y’know

-He tends to wander, but seems to leave no traces behind him. One day he may be in the south, and the next he is down at the coastline near the northern cities.

-From some angles he looks rather disfigured, but if he allows you to approach him, you can see that all his bones are, in fact, in their place and he isn’t broken - he just hyperflexible-

-One sound he just loves to do is that one that is akin to a laughing hyena + cougar, he mixes the sound to the point you can only just shiver or tense up. On that topic, he is quite able to mimic many sounds and make new ones, and again - this is his favorite activity to do, especially when there’s people around to spook or run off from the territory 

-I mentioned he has four eyes. The bigger pair serves for normal vision, just like you and I, but they are also eyes for a predator, while the smaller pair are more for panoramic views. Although he can hardly be classified as a prey animal, he was a small lamb once too, and had to keep watch out for bigger predators.

-Although he doesn’t breathe fire, he also has a way of manipulating flames and creating them. The ends of his clothes that hang from him sometimes catch fire, giving him an haunting look as he is mid battle and burning himself - but the flames never touch him to hurt him,

-He doesn’t lack in limbs, and he especially is more than useful in both combat and scaling mountains and rocks. He can grab and kick and slash and bite. What more is there?

-Just like with any other dragon that isn’t in much contact with humanity and that looks as scary as him, a lot of people have woven different stories about the goat dragon. It’s mostly parents scaring their children with these tales, saying how the goat dragon will snag them if they stay too late outside or if they wander too far off.

-Some other stories include details of his origin. Some adventurous spirit found old cave paintings that show a black lamb and a big herd, and so they say he was a sacrifice himself. That the form they sometimes glimpse is nothing more but a vengeful spirit that seeks those who harmed him.

-Scar can’t fly, but he can float a bit, but he can also jump really high so watch out for that.

-He also lacks a lot of scales besides for his front claws.  He may be the only dragon that’s fluffed up as he is.

-For practicality sake, he doesn’t often do his things and missions in human form - it’s just way easier to swoop in like this beast, scare off the enemy and take their things, rather than chit chat and try to get through their stubborn heads.

-He does taunt them while he attacks with those sounds he makes, and sometimes, to lure a particular person out, he does imitate the voice of someone they’re close to.

-Sometimes, he is able to morph his skull to represent the skull of a goat, but those are just illusions and not real.

-Honestly, his fut is quite nice to the touch, although the big mane is a bit coarse and really thick 

-Although the woods are the best place for hiding and stalking, his horns often get stuck on branches and plants, so he prefers open fields for this reason

-Picks you up, carries you around, just unprompted. “You’re my friend now” meme,and there’s you dangling from his claws while he goes off who knows where

-Clingy in his sleep, so clingy. You have to be present or else. Else what? No clue, but you prefer not to be chirped at in the middle of the night, even if you know it is him making all that scary noise

Wuwa Jien:

–A dragon that seems to have been slumbering for the last several centuries, or else people simply believe her to be really old. Her slumber has paused her growth, but her scales still grew hard and impenetrable. Her claws are dark gold and leave behind a faint glimmer on things or dragons she slashes with them. 

-She is another dragon that doesn’t often interact with civilization, and just prefers to keep to her woods and fields. People began to claim that leaves grow greener while she is within the woods, and winters never last too long there either. For this, people do respect her and just leave her be. Although she isn’t social, she doesn’t shy away from people if they stumble into each other. Some people have come across her as she is laying down on some big boulder, resting or soaking in some sun, others have been there as she flew overhead, and she didn’t deny giving help to lost or distressed souls that find their way to her territory

-She is still quite formidable, and similarly to Aalto, she makes up for her lack of size with intellect and strategy

-She is another dragon that can breathe fire, like Mortefi. Her flames are really pale, almost golden and burn even hotter than Mortefi’s fire.

-Some people may find trees marked with her teeth, and some say it’s because she is marking her territory, while others say she is growing even more teeth.

-Jien is quite territorial though, and isn’t too happy when many people come and go, and even less when other dragons do so. She is quite tolerable though. She has patience and grits her teeth when someone tresspasses, giving them a chance to leave swiftly, but can sometimes make some noise to give warning to the unwanted visitors - primarily dragons. The only humans she’d give such hard treatment to are those that harm nature and litter or do any other sort of harm or are scheming to do so.

-There is a story that some people like to say that involves the General Jiyan, and it speaks of how the General went to her woods to seek her out for some assistance, but as he did arrive in the middle of the night and sh didn’t recognize him, she nearly clawed his lungs out. But from that encounter and onward, there were no fights between the two, and the army of Jinzhou never lacked in herbs from then either

-Loves to fly, and can often be seen gliding over her woods, and sometimes Jinzhou city and the surrounding mountains. It isn’t often for her to travel too far, but on rare occasions she goes to Mt. Firmament, which is more often in summer, she brings back a huge block of ice with her

-She has this big pool in the rocks of one hill, a big canopy of an oak overhead - it is a natural spring in which she is known to bathe in, and also perfect for her size.

-Doesn’t shy from human form either, and similarly to Mortefi - she prefers to do her paperwork and smaller business with human hands which are more precise, rather than claws. 

Size chart and trivia:

Calcharo is the biggest one in this lineup, having both size, mass and height to him, and can easily be classified as a war dragon as well

Scar is next in line, but he is much more lanky in comparison to Calcharo

Aalto is bigger than Jien but she has him beat in the strength department

Encore, of course is the smallest one here, Aalto can easily grab her in one talon and carry her off

So far, size wise the chart would be Geshu Lin> Jiyan/Calcharo>Scar>Aalto>Jien>Jinhsi>Mortefi>Encore

Tried to base Calcharo on a more wolflike anatomy/patterns since it suits him imo. So he has shorter claws that also look like paws

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[leighsartworks216]

In The Moonlight

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Lowkey wrote this for @niermortem bc the Astarion hyperfixation goes hard

I've never written for Astarion before and I'm still not 100% comfortable with his speech patterns and stuff but I had to write this or I would not be able to sleep tonight. Tbh y'all are lucky he even spoke at all. I was going to have Tav shush him lmao

Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear

Word Count: 1,110

Masterlist

AO3

He’s so beautiful, just like this. The moon reaches through the window and caresses his hair, turning already-bright white into pure starlight. His pale skin glows. And when the sun rises and casts beams of yellow-orange over him, it’s almost as if blood flows through him once more.

You cannot sleep. Despite how tired your body was, your mind couldn’t sit still. It pondered over the day’s events - if you made the right choices, what you could have done better, your companions - endlessly spiraling out of sleep’s embrace. And you would still have been going over these questions and concerns, if Astarion did not look so damn pretty.

He fell asleep a while ago. With a gentle kiss to your cheek and a whisper of thanks, he’d tucked one arm under his head and draped the other across your waist, and drifted off. A hint of a smile still lingered there. Creases by his mouth and eyes proving a simple joy that followed him into his dreams.

It felt wrong to watch him like this. Like studying how his curls fell across his forehead and the flicker of his eyes behind his eyelids was in some way betraying his trust. The thought alone - of ruining this beautiful foundation of trust and patience and understanding - should have been enough to have you close your eyes or turn away. And yet, something inside you yearned for more. An ache in your chest that urged you to touch him, to be closer to him.

And the urge was stronger than your perceived guilt.

Slowly, you raised a hand to his face. At first, all you did was brush the curl from his forehead. The stubborn thing only bounced right back.

Your eyes trailed from his hair to his eyebrows. So often did a crease find its way between them, pinched in frustration or confusion. Your hand followed. With the barest brush of your thumb, you smoothed out the imaginary crease. Astarion breathed in deeply - causing you to hold your own - before sighing softly. His face relaxed even more, shoulders easing into the pillows that cushioned him.

You focused next on his eyes. Deep, bloody red irises hidden behind thin lids that held so much worry and uncertainty and joy and hope. Hope. It had taken so long for the vampire to actually be optimistic about the future. He had no idea what would happen next - between Cazador and the tadpoles, there was little to be optimistic about. When you helped him, despite his original plans to manipulate and use you, he realized things did not always have such awful outcomes. Even your first encounter, with his blade to your throat, had somehow brought you here, together and warm and safe.

Despite being an elf, he had such deep bags beneath his eyes. Even the crows feet and laugh lines that appeared with his smile were unusual. He’d told you sparingly about his life under Cazador. The things he fed on, the poem carved into his back, and the horrible things he did. Undoubtedly, the lines came from that time. Barely eating enough to survive, luring people in with his charms for an uncaring master, being tortured in the dark. Yet, you couldn’t imagine Astarion without them. He was so pretty when he smiled.

You move on to his nose and his cheeks. His features are all well defined, sharp. It makes him seem dangerous, even at a first glance. Like a snake, hiding fangs behind shimmering scales.

Beckoned by the analogy, your eyes flicker to his lips. They’re so soft, despite the way he chews his bottom lip. Where before his kisses were rough, demanding, now they’re slow, careful. He no longer kisses you like he has to woo you over and get you to play his game. He kisses you like he’s savoring the last drop of wine. Even his bites are gentler, pricking your neck as carefully as he can unless you ask him nicely to be rougher.

“Too distracted to sleep, are we?”

His voice makes you jolt. You weren’t expecting his lips to move so suddenly. Nor did you realize before how your hand cupped his jaw and your thumb stroked his cheek. You can feel his smile as he chuckles.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” he coos. “But don’t you think it’s a bit late to be admiring my features?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, urging your heart to still from the scare. Damn you for thinking so much about his mouth. Astarion is nice enough to wait and listen as you relax once more, though you continue to trace over his skin and brush the curls in front of his ears back.

“I couldn’t sleep. And you look so beautiful in the moonlight.”

He slips his arm from underneath his head as he turns into your hand, holding your wrist in place as he kisses your palm. “I appreciate it, my love. But it’s been a long and exhausting day, and we both need our beauty rest.”

Red eyes watch, half-lidded, as you smile - he loves it just as much as you love his. Before, he couldn’t care less. Now, oh the things he would do to see you happy every waking moment of the rest of your lives.

The blankets shift against each other as you move to be closer. You tuck yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his neck. You are so warm. He lets out a soft breath as he curls around you, protective and safe all at once. Slender fingers tangle carefully into the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping your head tucked away under his chin.

For so long, he charmed and manipulated people. They touched and got close to him, in ways he quickly detached himself from. For so long. It was still difficult to fathom how he sought it out with you. How he did not go through the motions of physical intimacy, how he actually wanted to be physically intimate in more ways than just sexually. How long he’d been deprived of something genuine like this. He wanted to savor every gods-forsaken minute of it.

Your warm breath fanned across his neck as you spoke. Had he been able to, it would have sent a chill down his spine.

“I love you.”

His fingers curl into your waist, grounding himself into your body as your skin gives under his fingertips. In return, you squeeze him in your hold, solidifying even more that this is real. You are real.

“I love you, too, darling.”

[gallusrostromegalus]

For the OC ask I'd like to ask: betrayal or midnight (whichever you want, or both if you have the time/ energy)

Midnight: What keeps them up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

--- It well past Midnight.

It was hard to tell in Las Noches, because the natural sun outside was just as dark as the sky, and the artificial sun Aizen installed under the dome never set. But the air was cooler, and marginally more humid.

Coyote Starrk was up, roaming the halls- he slept all day so Lilynette has the energy to play with their new friends. She liked to follow the older girls around, especially Ulquiorra's underlings, Cici and Vivi, and sometimes Charlotte, if the woman offered to play makeup with her.

Besides, it felt... normal to him, to roam at night. When things cooled off and quieted down and the other nocturnes came out to play. Hallibel, for one- Coyote wasn't actually sure when she slept, or if she did. The closest he'd ever seen is her folded in a corner somewhere, breathing deeply but as soon as he approached, she would open one eye and at least grunt her half of a conversation. Ulquiorra was usually out on the roof somewhere and he made for decent if somewhat gloomy stargazing company. Grimmjow was often stalking the lower levels, Aaroniero/Arruruerie emerged from their shadowy sanctuary to scuttle about the kitchen, and Szaylel kept not so much irregular as outright chaotic hours.

He was in the outer halls that go around the dome, artificial sunlight streaming in one side, silvery moonlight in the other, and all the noises of the night echoing between them. It wasn't actually being sociable, per se, but it soothed the lonliness to hear everyone about or not.

"AAAAOOUGH!!"

Mostly.

Coyote sighed, rolling his eyes and sped up to meet the howling.

"HAAAUGH! AAAAUG!" Wonderweiss cried, scrabbling awkwardly up a set of stairs and bouncing off the walls as he sprinted for Coyote, eyes wide and terrified.

"Hey, hey, calm d-OOF!" Coyote tried to soothe as the small hollow slammed into his middle, bawling. "OW! Dammit Kid! What's the big idea, howling like it's the full moon out- Oh. Fuck."

Weiss was sobbing, paler than usual, and going a bit funny at the edges. It happened sometimes when he was particularly upset- a third eye sprouting in the middle of his forehead, too many fingers on his hands, and two extra mouths splitting open on the sides of his throat- the ears had gone long and floppy again too.

"Okay, okay, take it easy-" Coyote kept his voice low, hands on the boy's shoulders, trying to calm him down. "-What's wrong, eh?"

"HOUSA! HOUSA ICK!" Weiss yelped, scrambling to his feet and trying to pull Coyote after him.

"Yeah, I don't know what Housa is- Alright, show me." Coyote sighed, getting up and allowing himself to be pulled along. Inarticulate as the boy was, he wasn't stupid, or prone to hysteria. The last time he'd had a howling fit like this, one of Szaylel's creations had gotten loose in the Menos Pits and grown to a nearly unmanageable scale in under and hour.

Weiss dragged him down the stairs and along one of the other external hallways, then deeper into the city, past the hall where Aizen held his interminable meetings-

"HOUSA! HOUSA!" Weiss called as they skidded down a little dogleg hall where one of the Shinigami lords was housed-

"Weiss!" Coyote hissed. "You're going to wake Tousen!"

"YAH! HOUSA!!" Weiss nodded, yanking open the door to the Shinigami's room and running in.

"Shit! I- I'm sorry sir, Weiss was worried about- Oh. Oh, fuck." Coyote realized with horror.

Tousen's room was a small, spare place- little more than a narrow bed, wash basin and desk before the heavily-barred windows. Coyote had never seen the inside of it before, but the pale strips of moonlight through the bars made Coyote realize Tousen wasn't here by choice.

The man himself was sitting on the floor, back against the wall next to the washbasin, the scent of vomit still fresh in the room. He looked awful; gaunt, and the wrong color- almost a dull gray rather than the warm brown when Coyote had first met him. His eyes were closed tightly, he was panting heavily, gripping his abdomen, and not responding to Weiss's calls and shaking his arm.

"Shit." Coyote hissed, kneeling beside the Shinigami- he was sweating and very hot to the touch, but moaned faintly. "Weiss- Weiss! Listen, I need you to find- fuck, um- Find me Paramia or Rudborne, okay? One of them might know what to do."

Weiss whimpered, looking between Coyote and Tousen.

"Go! I'll take care of him, okay?" Coyote urged, and with a final worried look at the shinigami, Weiss sprinted off.

"...Because I definitely know how to do that." Coyote sighed, looking down at the man. "Uh, um. Pulse? He should have one of those, right? Hey, um, Lord Tousen? I'm just gonna. Grab your throat. Yeah that's totally nonthreatening..." He muttered, looking around the room and finding his Zanpakuto on the bed.

Instead of biting him like Coyote would have done if someone had started poking his throat while he was barely conscious, Tousen instead rolled his head weakly in Coyote's direction, pale eyes cracked open.

"...Sssjn?" Tousen mumbled.

"What?" Coyote blinked. "Um, oh, there's your pulse... Yeah, I- I don't think it's supposed to be doing that." Coyote winced, the human's pulse not so much beating as rapidly vibrating under his fingers.

"...Sajin?" He asked again, reaching up for Coyote's face with a shaking hand. "Sajin? Is that you?"

"Who?" Coyote blinked. "Tousen? Can you hear me? What's wrong with you? Something you ate?"

"Sajin, I- I'm so sorry...." He wheezed, voice weak, hand dropping away before he could reach Coyote's face. "I- I need to get you up. Find a doctor- Do we have a doctor? Paramia knows how to do a good stitch-up, but... Fuck. Alright, come on, on your feet-" Coyote grunted, pulling Tousen's arm over his shoulder.

"AUGH!" Tousen shrieked with pain as he was pulled up. "Please! Please, don't- just let me be..."

"No way, you're the only guy here with half a brain and I'd really like to live through this whole war with the shinigami thing so I'm really countin' on you to pull through-" Coyote explained, getting one arm under Tousen's shoulders and pulling him away from the wall-

-there was an unpleasantly wet peeling sound as he stood.

Coyote looked over the shoulder of the man slumped against him to see a bright stripe of blood running down the man's spine and against the wall he'd been propped against.

"I'm so, so sorry..." Tousen whimpered. "I never- I never meant to hurt you..."

"Hurt ME? What the hell, you couldn't hurt a mouse like this, nevermind me!" Coyote yelped, scooping the small man into his arms and then nearly dropping him as he over-corrected. Tousen was much lighter than he should be.

LILYNETTE!! Coyote howled over their bond. WAKE THE FUCK UP!ITS AN EMERGENCY!

WHAT?! She snarled back as Coyote sprinted out of the little cell of a room, looking for someone, anyone-

Tousen's on death's door, we need to find a- a doctor, someone! He panted, searching the halls.

Do we even HAVE a doctor? Lilynette wondered back.

That's what I wanted to know! He grumbled, sprinting up the stairs toward the meeting room.

WHY WOULD I KNOW? WE SHARE A BRAIN, MORON!! she cried back. Fuck, Uh- Not Szaylel- I dunno, Charlotte? She knows a lot about skincare and diets?

Yeah, we're a bit past skincare- look, I told Weiss to go find Paramia, go help him? Coyote skidded into the meeting room to find the light on down the hall in the throne room. He turned the corner to find a tall figure walking towards there as well.

"Ulquiorra's back with the girl Lord Aizen wanted." Hallibel muttered through her mask and high collar. "...Humans aren't supposed to be gray, right?" She frowned down at Tousen.

"No they're not!" Coyote grinned up at her. "Please tell me I've slept through a staff meeting and that we've got an actual doctor, not just a mad scientist and a stitch witch?"

"Oh? What seems to be the matter with- oh. That's. Bad." Szaylelapporo oozed over, then grimaced at the man. "Well, get him on the table, I'll see what I can do-"

"Not you! A REAL Doctor!" Coyote spat, jerking away from him.

"EXCUSE ME?" The mad scientist squawked, aghast.

"Welcome, Miss Inoue-" Aizen's voice rippled down the hall from the throne room. Tousen whimpered, curling into Coyote's chest, shaking. Fuck, if Aizen locked him in that cell of a room, he could have poisoned him too-

"-to my kingdom of- What the hell are you wearing?" Aizen sputtered.

"Yes!" an unfamiliar voice replied.

"Oh, come on, how often do we get a chance to dissect- I mean- surgically assist a Shinigami?" Szaylel pouted, reaching for the shivering man.

---

"Mr. Cifer didn't give me a lot of details about the conditions here, so I tried to prepare for every eventuality I could!" Chirped the small mountain of clothes and camping gear that apparently contained Orihime Inoue.

"I- well. If one cannot be forewarned, one should be forearmed, I suppose..." Aizen muttered, thrown completely off script. "But as I was saying, please allow me to extend the full hospitality of Las-"

There was a brief flicker of bright light and sharp withdrawal of reiatsu in the hall behind him.

"That better not be a cero-" Aizen frowned.

BLAM!

"My dick!" Wailed Szaylel from some distance away, having been blown through several walls as well as castrated.

"Quitcher bitchin', it'll grow back!" Snarled Coyote.

Aizen closed his eyes, rubbing his temples with his middle and ring fingers, struggling to maintain some composure. "What are you doing Mr. Starrk?" He snarled, turning on his heel to confront the First Espada and instead walking face-first into the spectacular underboob cleavage of the Third.

"Are you the Kurosaki kid's medic?" Hallibel called, unperturbed by the fact she was lightly smothering her commander.

"Uhh... I mean I'm trained in first aid and I'm pretty good at healing?" Miss Inoue muttered as Aizen extracted himself from Hallibel's bosom.

"What the hell is going on?" Aizen hissed up at her.

"Great! Lord Tousen's dying." Hallibel explained to Miss Inoue, before looking down at Aizen. "Also, Lord Tousen's dying." She said pointing down the smoking hall where Starrk was emerging with a weak and pallid Tousen in his arms.

"Oh, come on Kaname, pull yourself togeth- oh." Aizen recoiled at the sight of his compatriot, and the way his spine had bled all down the front of Starrk's uniform. "Miss Inoue? Your skills are requi-" He spoke up only for the girl to brush past him without so much as a sideways glance, shed of her excess garmentry.

"Mr. Tousen?" She asked, eyes wide and already on the verge of tears. "Can you hear me?"

"I-Inoue?" he groaned, turning his ear towards her. "Where? Where's Sajin..?"

"He's fine, but you're not. Can you tell me what's wrong?" She said, taking his wrist and touching his face.

"S-stomachache. Started... I- I don't know. Can't sleep." he mumbled, head dropping back onto Coyote's chest.

"He- he also threw up, his whole back is bleedin' and he keeps apologizing to this Sajin guy?" Coyote added.

"When was the last time you ate or drank anything?" She said, pinching the skin on the back of his hand and grimacing.

"I- I don't know. Not for a while. Not... not worth it." he muttered, listless.

"Is the stomachache concentrated anywhere? and is it more like nausea or pain?" She asked.

"P-pain. Very painful." He hissed. "It's- lower right side."

Miss Inoue inhaled slowly, jaw set. "Is it better or worse if you put pressure on it?"

"Hurts- hurts if I take pressure off it?" He whimpered. "I- I can't- Where's Sajin? He, he was just here-"

"Well, Miss Inoue?" Aizen asked, strolling up and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Care to prove your worth?"

The girl was completely still and silent for a moment. Fear? Or some sort of delayed reaction? Aizen watched her for a moment, the girl's face expressionless.

"I need a sterile room, surgical equipment- scalpels, sponges, gloves sutures, the works- and the means to sanitize it, and at least two people to hold him still." she said, voice flat.

"Surgical equipment?" Aizen scoffed. "You misunderstand- I want to see what the Shun Shun Rikka is capable of."

"It's capable of restoring a hell of a lot when it comes to traumatic injury and blood loss but it doesn't work on infections or organ failure, so if you want Mr. Tousen to live through the night, you'll have to settle for my capacity as Surgeon." She said, voice quiet and clipped. "Sterile room, Surgical equipment, sanitary gear, assistants, please, before his condition gets worse."

"...What condition?" Aizen puzzled, and she sighed with exasperation.

"You! White hair and horn! Find me a room that is or can be rendered sterile!" She barked, pointing over Coyote's shoulder.

"What? Who died and made you queen?" Lilynette yelped.

"DO IT!" Coyote barked.

"Fuck! Okay!" She flinched. "There's- uh, Paramia's office. She's got most of the stuff you were yelling about. I think."

"Good. Mr. Starrk, right? Do you know where that is?" She said, gray eyes snapping up to the Primera Espada's own, and he actually startled a bit.

"Uh- yes, and yes?" he muttered, arching his neck away from her.

"Take Mr. Tousen there ASAP, get him on a bed and if there's any means of restraining him, I need him lying on his left side, everything on his right side from his hip-bone to the middle of his ribcage exposed. Understand?" She said, gesturing to Tousen's side.

"Uh, yeah, Yes, I'll go-" Stark muttered, backing up a few steps and vanishing in a burst of Sondido.

"Maybe I didn't make myself cle-" Aizen started with Orihime spun out of his grip and turned to face the rest of the throne room.

"Mr. Cifer! I presume you know where the kitchens are! I need drinkable water, any electrolyte beverages you have or failing that, anything with a decent amount of salt in it, and anything with caffeine."

"I don't take orders from you." he growled.

Miss Inoue stopped from where she'd been turning to Hallibel and glared back at Ulqiorra. "You said that if I followed you through that portal, I'd be joining Aizen's cause, body and soul."

"What?" Aizen mouthed at Ulquiorra behind her.

"Yes? And?" Ulquiorra agreed, glaring back.

"Mr. Aizen, may I then act in an emergency capacity under your authority for the purposes of keeping a member of this organization alive?" She asked, rounding on him.

What had been sad, soft gray eyes in Ulquiorra's recollection of events had darkened into the color of an oncoming stormed and sharpened around the edges in a way that reminded Aizen uncomfortably of how Unohana's disapproval could feel like a knife at his throat.

"...You have hidden depths, Miss Inoue." he smirked, pretending to be at ease if he couldn't pretend to be in control. "-And since you're being such a good team player, I will happily grant you temporary authority to see to Kaname's welfare."

"Thank you sir." She bowed her head. "Cifer! Kitchen!"

Ulquiorra sputtered for a moment and then skulked off.

"...This good favor of mine is entirely dependent on Kaname's survival and recovery, of course." He said, leaning down into her personal space, lips almost at her ear.

"Of course, Mr. Aizen. I would consider failure to save Mr. Tousen just cause for suicide as it is." she said, and then failed to elaborate as she turned to Hallibel. "Ma'am with the blonde hair! What's your name?"

"...Hallibel." She said, slowly cocking her head at the girl

"Thank you Miss Hallibel." Inoue bowed. "Do you have a good grip, and can you stand the sight of blood?"

"...Yes?" Hallibel puzzled.

"Please escort me to Mr. Starrk, I'll need your help." Inoue asked, pointing down the smoking hallway.

"Miss Inoue, what cond-" Aizen started to ask again, but the girl was gone in a blur as Hallibel promptly carried out her orders and followed Starrk's sondido with her own. "-ition are you talking about?"

"Fever? Vomiting? Severe pain in lower right abdomen? C'mon boss, even you know what's up!" Laughed Gin.

---

"So... have you ever done a surgery before?" Hallibel asked when they stopped at the door in front of Paramia's room.

"Ugh-" Orihime staggered for a moment, disoriented. "What? Oh, no- I've seen this one done before. Well, a video of it." She winced.

"Oh." Hallibel muttered. "Well. I've never seen a video of anything, so I guess you're qualified." She shrugged, opening the door.

"Miss Inoue?" a soft voice asked inside. "I'm Roka Paramia, I act as Medic here." She was a small, almost human-looking hollow with half her face covered by a humanlike skull, almost like the phantom of the opera. She also wore a green, cable-knit sweater, which was strange because it had to be at least eighty degrees in here.

"Oh thank god!" Sighed Orihime. "Have you ever done surgery before?"

"No!" Smiled Paramia. "I look forward to learning the process."

"Cool, I'm promoting you to Assistant Surgeon. Can you get the relevant tools out and sanitized?" Orihime nodded.

"I have already done so, as well as secured Lord Tousen to the operating table!" Paramia smiled, gesturing inside to where the shinigami had been strapped down to the stainless steel table. A small, childlike hollow curled up and whimpering beside him. Behind them, Starrk and Lilynette were standing awkwardly, unsure of what to do. There was a quiet sob from the table, and Orihime stepped into the room.

"Hey- I met you down at the river yesterday! Weiss, right?" Orihime asked, touching the boy's shoulder. He looked up at her, large purple eyes blinking slowly in recognition.

"Ohhimay?" he tried.

"That's right! I'm Orihime!" She smiled, patting his head.

"Augh!" Weiss sobbed, grabbing her shoulder and pointing to Tousen.

"OW! Easy, I'm not very strong- Thanks." She winced and Weiss relaxed his grip. "It'll be okay, I promise. I'm going to make Mr. Tousen better, but it's going to really, really suck for a bit but then he'll be all better, I promise!" She soothed, brushing a thick lock of blonde hair away from his face.

Weiss mumbled, looking between her and tousen for a moment.

"It's okay Weiss. I'll be alright." Tousen spoke up, voice little more than whimper. "Can you go guard the hall for me?"

"...kay." Weiss mumbled, shuffling off the table and out the door, crouching beside it, still peering back into the room.

"Thank you. And I'm really sorry for what's about to happen." Orihime bowed, hands holding Tousen's. He grimaced, but nodded and squeezed her hand in acknowledgement.

Orihime looked back at Paramia."What do you have by way of painkillers?"

"Oh, we don't believe in those here!" Paramia smiled.

Orihime blinked at her a few times, and decided to think laterally. "...What do you have in terms of alcoholic beverages or other recreational drugs here?"

"Oh! There's Tequila in the commissary!" Paramia nodded with excitement.

"Nnoitra's got Ketamine." Said Hallibel.

"He has WHAT?" Yelped Starrk.

"Ketamine. Yylfordt snitches it out of Szaylel's lab and they get high on the roof when Aizen's away." Hallibel shrugged.

"Ketamine would be very helpful, actually!" Orihime chirped, slightly manic. "Alright, Miss Lilynette? Go help Ulquiorra in the kitchen-"

"UUUUUGH." Groaned Lilynette.

"I know, he's a jerk." Orihime waved. "But he's also stupid, and probably forgot what I sent him for already."

Lilynette snorted with laughter and Orihime smirked. "I'll write you a list, make sure he comes back with everything, okay?"

"Yeah, I can babysit batboy." Lilynette giggled.

"Miss Hallibel? Do you think you can persuade... I'm sorry, I didn't catch their names-" Orihime waved.

"Yeah I can shake down Nnoitra for his stash." Hallibel nodded.

"Great! You both go do that and come back ASAP while we scrub up?" Orihime asked, giving them each a thumbs up, and the responded in kind before vanishing out the door.

"I must say, I'm very impressed with your capability for organization and command!" Paramia beamed as the two medics washed up and Coyote tried to figure out the best way to keep Tousen pinned to the table. "There was some discussion between Lord Aizen and Lord Ichimaru of abducting someone from soul society to fill in the role of chief medic, but I think you're the superior option so far."

"...Who were they going to take from Soul Society?" Orihime frowned.

"Oh... I can't remember her name. Lady Usagi or something?"

"LADY UNOHANA??" Orihime shouted.

"Yes! Lord Ichimaru suggested that abducting Lady Unohana would be more tactically sound, but Aizen dismissed the idea rather quickly- I'm sorry, have I said something humorous?" Paramia asked as Orihime crumpled to the floor laughing, and there was an amused wheeze from Tousen.

"We'd all be better off if Aizen had attempted to abduct Lady Unohana." Tousen laughed darkly.

"Yeah!" Orihime didn't so much grin as bare her teeth at the absurdity of her circumstances. "She would have reduced them both to bright red streaks on the wall and I wouldn't be here doing an unanesthetized appendectomy at one in the goddamn morning!"

[bardic-inspo]

A Little Treat

(with their cheeks all flushed)

Pairing: Astarion x Evelyn (Named Tav)

Rating: Mature

Key Tags: Sweet, soft, (candy) corny established relationship fluff, Astarion being mischievous

Summary:

How could she say no when he kissed her so hungrily? When he darted away not moments after, muttering excitedly beneath his breath about thread and tulle and silk? It’s the same reason she’s been talked into and out of so much else: the man is a menace.

Evelyn and Astarion celebrate Harvest’s End. Astarion has a trick up his sleeve for his dearest treat.

A/N: For my dear friend @nyx-knox as part of a fall server exchange <3 Evelyn, the lovely named Tav in this fic, belongs to Nyx. I hope I did her justice! Occurs sometime after the final battle with the Netherbrain, and/or in a dream if it better suits Evelyn’s story. :)

I have no idea if Halloween exists in Faerun or not, and I decided not to look it up! So we’re calling it Harvest’s End instead!

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Evelyn shivers, rubbing friction against her bare arms for meager warmth. The autumn breeze bites meaner than Astarion ever would. But he’s to blame all the same; after all, he’s the reason she’s wearing nearly nothing, at nearly midnight, out in lantern-lit streets of Baldur’s Gate.

At least she’s not the only one in such attire. The streets brim with a menagerie of costumed celebrants, all seemingly dressed as courtesans. Or at the very least, dressed as monsters, fairytale characters, and heroes who all moonlight as courtesans. Evelyn’s eyes drift over a woman in a scaled, glimmering gown. She must be a mermaid. She trembles like the fallen leaves do as the wind rustles through her slitted skirt.

Their eyes meet unwittingly. Evelyn can’t help a small chuckle of empathy. The stranger returns Evelyn’s warm, knowing smile. ‘Tis the season for showing skin, even in the cold.

Despite the late hour, the Gate is awake with boisterous laughter. Bards strum jaunty songs in every square. Every tavern’s doors are propped open to accommodate overflowing crowds. The chill is battled back by the cozy scents of pecan pie and apple cider wafting from the windows. Carved pumpkins line the cobblestones, aglow with orange candlelight.

The whole city celebrates Harvest’s End in the same manner each year. This year, Evelyn meant to celebrate it with Astarion. She still means to. She carries on down the avenue, slowing to a stop just outside the high shrubbery of the haunted hedge maze. Shrieks mingle with the giddy giggling of the stumbling passersby, but Evelyn doesn’t so much as flinch.

She scans the rosy-cheeked faces for one that’s ghostly pale. A handful of times, she catches the flutter of a dark cape. But each time she looks up, her hopes are punctured by the decidedly fake fangs protruding from some stranger’s mouth. Dejected, she heaves a soft sigh. She can’t even conjure the will to laugh at the poor would-be-vampire that found his temporary teeth anchored in an apple, caramel glistening sticky in his beard.

Her vampire still hasn’t found her. Or rather, she hasn’t found him. The sorceress was supposed to meet him somewhere in this vicinity, about a quarter before the witching hour. Familiar chimes echo across the city, heralding its arrival.

Gooseflesh wakes along her naked shoulders. The chill seeps between her breasts, nearly spilling from the lace corset cupping them tight as a lover. But where in the hells is her lover? A small frown tugs on her lips. He wouldn’t be so mean as to stand her up now. 

Not like this, with her cheeks flushed apple red. He wouldn’t.

…would he? He hadn’t been keen on coming from the start. She’d had to talk him into it. And in so doing, Astarion talked her into this.

“What’s this?” Astarion’s chin settles against Evelyn’s shoulder. 

She grins to the soft feel of his mouth against the slight point of her ear. For a moment, he’s silent as he skims the piece of parchment held in front of her. She’d seen the flier by chance out in the market and taken it with her on her way back to him. 

“Ugh,” he groans. His hands wrap her waist, squeezing her as if for comfort. “A costume party? For Harvest’s End? How utterly gauche.”

“It’s a pretty common tradition,” she snickers. 

“Exactly,”  Astarion grumbles. “It’s common. A masquerade is a far more elegant and dignified affair. Something far more suitable for us saviors of the city.”

Evelyn’s smile fades, golden eyes glazed in thought. “It could be fun to do something common. Something normal. Not much has been, since the tadpoles. Even after them. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten what it’s like.”

She can feel his scowl growing against her neck. Petal-soft lips lay the gentlest of kisses there. Her eyes flutter shut.

“That sounds like a good thing, dear,” he murmurs darkly. “Something better to forget.”

Evelyn blinks, worry creeping into her thoughts like a dark, drifting cloud. She turns in the circle of his arms, palms laid against his chest.

“What?” He asks, eyes narrowed against her scrutiny.

“Is…is Harvest’s End something you want to forget, Astarion?”

He huffs, his shoulders rolling with his eyes. “I just don’t care to see all the little morsels running around with their tacky, dull little fangs and syrup for blood. I lost count of how many costumed idiots my siblings and I snatched off the streets while they were stumbling home from some tawdry tavern after a night spent pretending to be a monster.”

Evelyn’s eyes widen. “I--”

“I’d much rather remember it with you,” he rasps. 

It’s the way he looks at her that steals her breath. That heady warmth in his eyes, as if they were bathed by a hearth. As if in her, he sees the safety of walls and a snapping fire. A shelter from the cold. A place of treasured memories. Of stories told, and laughter shared.

A home.

It’s the look that does it. But the crush of his lips could’ve had her sworn off of breath for an eternity. Her mouth melts against his, and she wishes their embrace could last just as long.

When he pulls away seconds or hours later, Evelyn’s head swirls. Her stomach swoops, as if buffeted by a sudden fall. The feeling drifts down into a lightweight sense of serenity. Evelyn can summon a tempest at her whim. But if she’s a storm, Astarion’s the eye of it. 

She lets out a long, contented sigh, hardly fazed or surprised when the fond gleam in his eye sharpens with cunning.

He grins. “On one condition.”

Evelyn tilts her head, mirroring his mischievous smirk. “Just the one?”

“I’ll be making our costumes,” he says, his smile growing smug. “You’ll see yours the night of the festivities. And you’ll see mine when you find me there.”

“Deal,” she says at once.

How could she have hesitated? How could she say no when he kissed her so hungrily? When he darted away not moments after, muttering excitedly beneath his breath about thread and tulle and silk?

It’s the same reason she’s been talked into and out of so much else: the man is a menace. A heartbreakingly handsome, smooth-talking, smarmy little menace. And she loves him with every fiber of her being.

Evelyn glances down at her ensemble, shuffling her feet sheepishly. At least it has pockets. Astarion made sure of it.

“Hey! Soldier!”

A familiar voice calls across the crowd. Evelyn looks up to see Karlach making her way over. Their eyes lock, and the tiefling’s widen.

 “Hey, Soldier!” Karlach drawls, grinning. “Looking sweet enough to eat, I see!”

Evelyn offers her friend a half-hearted smile in return. It’s the sort of quip Astarion could make if he were here. Probably the exact line he had in mind as he laced the corset with candy pink ribbon, and frosted it with the soft crush of cream brocade along the top. The ruffled fabric sparkles with little pastel crystals, sprinkled into the folds. A dollop of the same brocade swirls atop her headband, topped with a felt cherry. Her skirt is a short puff of delicate tulle, glistening with a sugary shimmer.

My little treat, she can practically hear him croon. 

Karlach’s costume isn’t so threadbare; Evelyn can only just see her friend’s eyes past the open jaws of the dragon’s head helm the tiefling wears between her horns. The ceremonial plate she dons is practical, though the same scales look heavy, laid along her tail.

“Let me guess,” Karlach snickers, “you’re--”

“Stood up.” Evelyn sighs, arms crossed.

“What? No, Fangs would never! He knows he’d hear from me about it if he did!”

Before Evelyn can utter a word in edgewise, she hears another familiar voice muttering a slew of frantic, mangled curses.

“Gale?” Evelyn tilts her head, watching the wizard stumble out of the opening between the hedges. He shoots a wary glance back over his shoulder, shuddering. “Are you all right?!”

“GAH! Ah, ah, it’s only you two! Mysta’s swirling skirts,” Gale gasps, cowering. He picks his way over to them, eyes down, sheepish.

Karlach gapes at him, incredulous. “That gods awful haunted maze has the Gale of Waterdeep quaking in his boots? The same man that faced down the Netherbrain? Are you feeling faint? Feverish, maybe? Should we fetch a cleric?”

“It’s precisely because of our prior exploits that I know the difference between fear and farce. And I’m quite alright, thank you. My heart’s only racing faster than it has since we were fighting for our lives.”

Gale huffs, fixing the black, pointed ears protruding from his slicked hair. Evelyn decides not to tell him his whiskers are smeared across his cheeks.

“Come off it,” Karlach scoffs. “I spun through that maze earlier and it was nothing but a laugh. If I didn’t crack up, I would’ve been crying about what a sad excuse it is for a scare.”

Another scream lights the night. But that’s not the noise that snags Evelyn’s ear: it’s the pitchy, breathless bark of a laugh that follows. That feels familiar.

“I’ll give it a try,” Evelyn shrugs.

“Don’t say you weren’t warned,” Gale says gravely. Karlach blows a raspberry back at him in response. 

Their bickering is swallowed by the shrubbery as Evelyn steps through the spiderwebbed archway into the maze. Smoke furls across her feet, clouding the sight of them after only a few steps. The bushes rustle in a sudden flurry of movement. She tenses.

Clawed hands burst through the branches, grasping fruitlessly at empty air filled with moans and groans. They’re meant to be zombies, but the growls are shrill, and the hands, small and harmless, save for a wicked-looking hangnail. Evelyn muffles her laughter, dodging nimbly. 

She takes the next turn, and then another, until the rumbling of the alleged undead dissolves to the leathery flapping of bats. Her eyes dart upwards, snagging on the dark flash of motion overhead. Her spark of excitement snuffs as soon as it came, her shoulders slumping. Surely they could’ve found some sort of caster on the streets who could do better than this shabby pair of kites passing as bats. Gale could have, had they not apparently terrified him so.  

Evelyn heaves a soft, restless sigh. Karlach was right. This maze isn’t anything special. And perhaps she was a fool to think Harvest’s End could’ve been. She can tell by straining on her tip-toes that she’s nearly at the heart of the hedges.

And then, her heart skips like a stone across a pond.

A sharp, startled cry bursts through the bushes. Blotting it out is that laugh. It’s a full-bodied cackle. Devilish. Delighted. Triumphant.

Evelyn hurries towards it.

At a fork in her path, she takes the route past a gushing green cauldron, around a bend to a patch of false graves. Panting, she pauses, soaking in the scent of fresh-turned earth, and the names etched on the tombstones: Here lies Rigg. R. Mortis, Diane Rott, Rusty Kauphyn, Claire Voyant…

It brings a rueful smile to her face. She can’t help but think of another graveyard, filled with other names, one of them etched into her heart as much as his tombstone. Maybe Astarion would hate this farce, even with her. Maybe she shouldn’t have urged him to go. Maybe--

Fluid movement seeps through her periphery, a shadow spilling over the moonlight. By the time she glances over her shoulder, it’s gone. The small, stone gazebo up ahead looks as lonely as she feels. 

But then, she hears it again. A soft chuckle this time, buried beneath a bated breath, tumbling like the dried leaves do down the dirt path. As if in a trance, her limbs moving of their own volition. 

Evelyn follows the sound home. 

She gets as far as the yawning arch at the steps when her hairs stand on end. She’s greeted by a low, rolling growl. It thrills through her, swirling sweet, tantalizing static over her skin. If she had to guess, it’s the same sound that scared Gale shitless.

Evelyn merely clicks her tongue, peering about the gazebo. “I looked everywhere for you.”

“Look up, love.”

With a shake of her head, she does. She finds him beaming down at her with a warmth to rival the sun. Astarion sprawls beneath the domed roof, braced there effortlessly. He’s far too tickled with his newfound ability to spiderclimb. It turns out such a talent comes naturally to any well-fed vampire spawn.

Whoosh.

The backflip down was far from necessary. But the hand he braces against the small of her back, and the other that hitches her knee against his hip, that’s all that’s keeping her from falling. Evelyn gasps out a giggle as he dares to dip her deeper. The graveyard sways upside down in her view: a sky full of tombstones above a sea full of stars.

“My, my,” he purrs, breath tickling her neck. “What’s a delicious thing like you doing all by your lonesome?”

“I’ve been waiting.” Evelyn drawls with a grin. “Waiting since the moment I first saw you.”

“Hm,” the soft huff of his laugh tumbles down her collar as he pulls her upright. And now that you have me?” 

Blood rushes from her head, the scent of him swimming through it: the sharpness of rosemary, chased by the softness of bergamot and the richness of brandy. Astarion’s eyes flutter shut briefly, pulling in a long, satisfied breath, and pulling a blush to her cheeks with it.

Abruptly, Evelyn’s eyes narrow. “You didn’t dress up!”

“No, I didn’t,” Astarion croons, unrepentant, eyes alight with mischief. “I thought you deserved the real thing, darling.”

Something real. The sentiment is a sweet one. She’s still giving him shit for it, though.

“And you thought you deserved a treat?”

Astarion arches a brow. “Isn’t that the whole point of this holiday?”

The cool hand on her back wanders lower. With it, he wakes a heat across her skin, resilient even to the chill on the wind. She can’t help the needy noise that leaves her lips as he cups her ass and reels her body flush with his. She can’t help but tilt her head back at the mere tease of his teeth.

“I know it’s not my birthday,” he pouts, lips lingering where her pulse flutters against her neck, “but after all, what’s Harvest’s End without a graveyard smash?”

A/N: Divider credit for pre-story divider to @firefly-graphics. Scene break credit to @strangergraphics. End banner credit to @saradika-graphics. Credit to a cursory google search for some punny tombstone names!

[ne0n-fantasies]

Can I just get an absolutely wicked chase with a Naga or Yautja of your choice go absolutely crazy. Like being hunted down by them and trying to run away but you can never outrun a supernatural being. it can be horror or nsfw or both or just anything you’d like i just need that chase UGHHH so good

gender neutral reader if possible 🙏‼️

• 💪 anon

I went through about 5 different ideas for this before I settled on one, I hope you like it!! I will absolutely do nsfw for a part 2 :)

Naga x GN!Reader

In which the reader encounters a forgotten deity

♡ Pt.2 here ♡

On cold windless nights, when the moon is bright and casts shadows of the wispy clouds, a serpent hunts. Searching for its next victim, to deliver its wrath upon. A forgotten deity, at least that's what the elders of your village said.

One claimed to have seen it. Half man and half snake, with scales that gave off a hypnotic shine. Eyes as cold as the winter months, but with a hunger unlike anything a mortal would know. You should have believed them.

It was fun, at first. Sneaking away from the village with your friends, laughing around a fire in the woods. Until one of them vanished. You thought nothing of it at first, maybe they had needed to relieve themselves in the bushes. But when another went looking for them, and vanished as well, your small group started to panic.

Soon you were alone. A burning pain filled your lungs as you ran, not caring where you ended up, just wanting to get away. You had hardly seen it before you took off, an ethereal figure in the trees. Larger than any man you'd seen, its pale skin glowing beneath the moonlight. And the scales. White, iredescent scales. That was all you had needed to see.

You could hear it behind you, snarling words in some ancient tongue- warnings. Still, you ran. Tripping over branches and roots, scraping yourself on thorns- but you didn't care. You took a sharp turn, hoping to throw off the monster, only for a scream to be ripped from your lungs. It was much faster than you.

You could taste dirt and blood in your mouth, your ears ringing as you try to push yourself off the forest floor. You couldn't, though, a heavy weight pressing against your lower back. A hollow, ghostly voice brushed against your ear- the breath like frost against your skin. You didn't understand what it was saying, and you only hoped it would make your death quick.

The thoughts racing through your mind stopped. Your eyes grew tired, and your head spun. Cold flesh pressed against your neck, and more hushed whispers followed. It felt like you had fallen under a spell, and soon, your body was limp against the underbrush.

Something was whispered in your ear before you lost consciousness. Broken common tongue, spoken with a quiet accent.

"How poetic, my sweet, to have me hunt you down. But it took far too long to find you."

[fanfic-gallery]

love at first dive

merman! neuvillete x gn human! reader

|| fluff, fluff and more fluff

» manager's note: happy valentine's day to my single babies and not forgetting my lovebirds out there too; i remembered i didn't make a valentine's fic last yr- so so sorry about that ヽ(*。>Д<)o゜hope this small little fic makes up for it thooo, and with that said - hope you enjoy, love ya <3

"there you are!"

marine eyes rolled towards that blaring voice of yours - there you stood, by the shores, arms crossed. he couldn't help but smile at the illusion of a miniature 'you' by the bay waiting on him. what nostalgia, he thought; reminiscing a time where you two were trapped in the same position months ago

-

"worry not, sir- i'll get you out of there!"

there he laid, basking in the blue hues of the moonlight; silver locks flowing within the grasp of the lake, surrounding his head like halo; enjoying the eerie silence of the pine forest yet there you were - scrambling to fix a life float with worn out rope to get to him. you launched the thing into the waters, nudging it forward with a large pole.

head rose from the surface of the waters, webbed fingers softly griping at the inflatable, jolting as it drags him towards the shore.

"are you alright-"

he felt the atmosphere tensing, your eyes lingering at the soft-sculpting of his features; his glittering skin, fin-like ears, broad frame.

"...is something the matter, little one?"

"ah- i-it's nothing- it's just-"

"...just?"

"nevermind- l-let's get you out of here-"

he shook his head as you stuck your two arms out for him.

"can you not move? are you injured?!"

"...far from it..."

filed nails trailed up your palms...

"WAH-!"

SPLASH!

...before pulling you into the shallow depths; yet, you didn't seem to be in any state of panic - bright eyes staring at him starry and full of shock. he could only guess that you took notice of the shimmering scales across his his fish tail, colours of blue and purple in patches covering his figure.

so mesmerised that you barely saw the bubbles your were releasing from your parted lips; the merman smiled softly at the sight, right hand clasping against yours while the other held at your waist, tugging you into him before rushing you both back up to the water's top.

"GASP-"

the merman carefully patted at your back, as you coughed out the liquid you had managed to shallow in your few seconds within.

"...i'm sorry for scaring you, young one... it's just... i couldn't help but give ya a little tease,"

"cough- i-it's alright, mister- just- try not drowning your victims next time-"

"...will do."

"anyways, cough- do you live here?"

"...no, sadly."

"what- then did someone move you here from the ocean?!"

"...no either."

"then..."

"i was taken in by a family who lived in a nearby village; regretfully, the leaders found out about my secret and decided to sentence me to death- luckily... i was able to escape and that's how i ended up here..."

you were quiet, speechless even.

"...so you're homeless?"

"it would seem so..."

"why don't you stay with me?"

"...pardon?"

"i have an extra room or more like you could live in the tub- plus, it's quite lonely living in the woods all alone..."

"..."

"well- you can stay here too if you-"

"...i'd be happy too."

"wait- really?"

he nodded.

"that's- that's great- do you need me to pick you up then- transport you into the house or-"

"no need for that, i have my ways..."

-

"come now- dinner's ready!"

he stood from his position in the waters, swimming over all while chuckling at your huff of annoyance. reaching the borders of the water - he took a slight leap, and within a flash of light, his tail turned to a pair of legs clothed in black trousers; waist-up, dress-shirt underneath a dark-marine vest. soft, pale hand combed through his now dried mane before strolling back to the cozy, small cottage up ahead.

[halosdiary]

medusa, medusa | gorgon!gojo x blind!reader | 呪術廻戦

a/n: honestly, this one feels like a greek tragedy, and I'm more than happy to post this.

wc: 4.6k

synopsis: It's one of those cute, yet sad tropes of a cursed!person x blind reader.

"Snow white hair, beautiful ocean blue eyes. He was the center of everything loved by all, but unfortunately could not love back."

Satoru Gojo had always been a marvel of nature. Born with a beauty that seemed sculpted by the gods, he was admired wherever he went. His hair, pale as moonlight, shimmered in the daylight, and his cerulean eyes held an enigmatic glow that captivated anyone who met his gaze. His flawless smile drew in followers, friends, and admirers alike, all of whom basked in the light of his charm and kindness.

By day, Gojo was more than just a beautiful face. He had an easygoing, playful nature that set him apart. Children loved him, adults respected him, and those closest to him saw the flickers of childish mischief hidden behind his kindness. He never seemed to take life too seriously, laughing away the problems of the world, as though the weight of it could never truly rest upon his shoulders.

But Satoru Gojo harbored a secret. One that was more terrifying than anyone could imagine. For as blessed as he was by the sun, he was equally cursed by the night.

As dusk settled, and the warmth of the day gave way to shadows, his beauty began to fade. Slowly, like the setting sun, his skin began to twist, his once-angelic face contorting into something grotesque. His smooth skin cracked and hardened into scales, and his eyes lost their luster, becoming dark, sunken pits. His body, graceful in daylight, became hulking and monstrous, something out of a nightmare. The same people who adored him during the day would scream and flee if they saw what he became under the cover of darkness.

This curse was no accident—it was placed upon him at birth, by forces older than time. It wasn’t just his appearance that changed at night, but something deeper. The curse had stolen his ability to feel love. Though he was surrounded by admirers, though people loved and cherished him, he could never return those feelings. No matter how kind he was, no matter how many friends he made, there was an empty void in his heart. His beauty was admired, his company sought after, but all of it felt hollow.

In the daylight, his smile could fool the world, but Gojo knew what lay beneath. He could charm and entertain, but when the night came, he was alone—forced to lock himself away from the world, unseen and unloved, his monstrous form a reflection of the void within him.

Despite this curse, Gojo never let it break his spirit. He laughed and smiled during the day, played the part of the charming hero. But every sunset reminded him that his beauty, his popularity, and his kindness were fleeting illusions, just as temporary as the daylight. No one would ever truly love him. And perhaps, he thought, that was the cruelest part of the curse.

For though the world saw him as a being of light, Gojo lived in the shadows, unable to ever feel the warmth of love.

Gojo stood there, your words echoing in his mind, each one settling deeper into him than he had anticipated. He had spent his entire life believing that no one could ever truly love him—not the real him, not the cursed monster he became at night. But here you were, standing in front of him, offering something he had never thought possible: acceptance.

For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to relax in someone’s presence, especially during the night when he was at his most vulnerable. The snakes in his hair hissed softly, but he no longer felt the need to conceal them. The weight of his secret had been lifted, and for once, he didn’t feel like he had to hide who he was.

You, on the other hand, could feel the shift in him. Though you couldn’t see, you had always been able to sense people’s energy. With Gojo, it had always felt like a bright light during the day, a presence so intense that it was almost overwhelming. But at night, when he tried to disappear from the world, his energy became like a coiled spring, tense and guarded. That night, however, his presence was calm, softer somehow, as if he were finally letting his guard down.

“I’ve always been surrounded by people,” Gojo said after a long silence, his voice distant, like he was recalling painful memories. “They admired me, followed me, even worshiped me sometimes. But none of it ever felt real. It was like they were in love with the idea of me—the beautiful, perfect Gojo. Not the one who’s cursed. Not the one who turns into a monster every night.”

You listened quietly, your heart heavy with the weight of his words. You had always known there was more to Gojo than what he showed the world. His laughter and playfulness were genuine, but there was something lonely about him, something he kept buried under the surface.

“I think I started believing it,” Gojo continued. “That no one could ever love the real me. I told myself it didn’t matter—that as long as I could make people happy during the day, that was enough. But… it wasn’t. I felt empty, no matter how many people surrounded me.”

You reached out, gently taking his hand. His skin felt different at night, rougher, more like the stone he feared turning others into. But to you, it didn’t matter. You squeezed his hand, grounding him in the moment.

“I don’t need to see what you look like, Gojo,” you said softly, your voice filled with a quiet strength. “I’ve never cared about that. All I know is that you’ve been kind to me. You’ve been playful, silly, and sometimes a little too full of yourself,” you added with a teasing smile. “But you’ve also been a friend. You’ve made me laugh, made me feel welcome. And that’s enough for me.”

Gojo stared at you, his serpentine hair shifting slightly, as if unsure how to react to your words. For so long, he had believed that his curse would prevent him from ever finding real companionship, let alone love. But here you were, not afraid, not running, just… there. Present.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

“Because I know you,” you replied without hesitation. “Not the image everyone else sees. Not the perfect, untouchable Gojo. I know the person who spends his days making ridiculous jokes and trying to cheer people up. The person who cares, even though he pretends not to. And I know the person who’s scared of being alone at night. I know you, Gojo. And I’m not going anywhere.”

A silence fell between you two, but it was comfortable, peaceful. Gojo felt something he hadn’t felt in years—a sense of calm, of belonging. He had spent so long running from his curse, believing it made him unworthy of real connection. But here, with you, it didn’t feel like a curse anymore.

It wasn’t some grand romantic moment, nor was it a sudden, overwhelming feeling of love. It was quieter, more subtle, but no less powerful. For the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo felt like he didn’t have to be anything other than who he truly was. There was no need to hide his monstrous form, no need to fear rejection. You couldn’t see the snakes in his hair or the cursed gaze of his eyes. But more importantly, you saw him, beyond the curse, beyond the beauty and the horror.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Gojo squeezed your hand in return, his smile soft and genuine in a way that was rare for him. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, but you heard it clearly. In those two simple words, there was a lifetime of gratitude, relief, and something that felt almost like hope.

The night passed quietly, the two of you sitting together under the stars, the world around you peaceful and still. For Gojo, it was the first night in a long time where he didn’t feel alone, didn’t feel like a monster. And for you, it was a night where you got to truly know someone who had always seemed so untouchable.

Neither of you spoke much after that. There wasn’t a need for words. You had said everything that needed to be said. And as the night turned into dawn, and the first light of morning began to break across the horizon, Gojo felt something new bloom in his chest.

Maybe, just maybe, the curse wasn’t as unbreakable as he had once thought.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced the horizon, Gojo felt the familiar sensation of change wash over him. The serpents that had wriggled restlessly throughout the night began to calm and retreat, dissolving into his silky hair. His rough, scaly skin smoothed, becoming soft and radiant once more, as the night’s curse gave way to the day’s blessing. By the time the sun had fully risen, he was once again the Satoru Gojo everyone knew—beautiful, flawless, and untouchable.

Except this time, something was different.

He glanced over at you. You were still there, sitting beside him, your hand still in his, completely unaffected by the transformation. You had stayed through the night, unflinching in the face of what he had become. He couldn’t explain the warmth spreading through his chest, a feeling he had spent his whole life believing he would never know. The curse had told him he could never be loved—that he could only be admired from a distance during the day and feared at night. But with you, something had shifted.

He stood, helping you up as well. "The sun’s up," he said lightly, his tone trying to mask the flood of emotions that threatened to surface. He flashed his usual playful grin, the one that charmed everyone around him. But this time, it wasn’t a mask—it was real. He felt lighter, freer, in a way that he hadn’t in years.

You tilted your head in his direction, sensing the change in his demeanor. "Back to being the beautiful Satoru Gojo everyone loves, huh?" you teased, your voice playful but affectionate.

He chuckled. "I mean, I can’t help it," he said with mock arrogance, but his hand lingered on yours a moment longer before letting go. "But I’m still me, you know. Even when the sun goes down."

You nodded. "I know."

The morning passed in comfortable silence as you walked together, the world slowly waking up around you. Gojo found himself stealing glances at you, not out of curiosity but out of a deep, unfamiliar feeling he was still trying to comprehend. It wasn’t the way others looked at him—hungry for his beauty or enchanted by his charm. It was something far more profound, something that made him want to hold on to this moment forever.

For the next few days, things fell into a new rhythm between you two. Gojo no longer disappeared at dusk. Instead, he stayed with you, his transformation unfolding in your presence without fear or hesitation. The first few nights were hard. He still struggled with the fear that somehow, even though you couldn’t see him, his curse would hurt you. But with each passing night, your unwavering acceptance eased that fear. You didn’t flinch when you heard the hisses of the snakes in his hair, didn’t tense up when you felt the roughness of his skin. You just stayed, calmly and patiently, as though nothing had changed.

It wasn’t long before others noticed the difference in Gojo, too. During the day, he seemed lighter, more genuine. His playful arrogance was still there, of course, but there was a softness to him now, a warmth that hadn’t been there before. His friends commented on it, but he always brushed it off with a joke or a grin. No one knew the truth—no one knew that for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo wasn’t afraid of the night.

But then came the day he had been dreading.

It was late afternoon, the sky already streaked with shades of orange and pink, signaling the coming sunset. You were both sitting on the edge of a grassy hill, the wind soft and cool against your skin. The day had been perfect—quiet, peaceful, filled with the kind of unspoken understanding that had become common between you and Gojo.

But as the sun began to dip lower, a knot of unease formed in his stomach. This time, it wasn’t fear of his transformation. It was something deeper, something he had been avoiding for weeks.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice unusually serious. He turned toward you, his expression more vulnerable than you had ever seen it. "There’s something I need to ask you."

You shifted slightly, sensing the tension in his voice. "What is it?"

Gojo took a deep breath, his hands fidgeting slightly. He had faced curses, monsters, and all manner of danger in his life, but nothing had ever scared him quite like this. "Why are you still here?"

The question hung in the air between you. It wasn’t accusatory, but there was a deep uncertainty in his voice. "I mean, I know I’m not easy to be around. And you… you know what I am. What I turn into every night. So why are you still here, sticking with me through all of this?"

You smiled softly, as though the answer were the simplest thing in the world. "Because I want to be here, Gojo. You’re not just your curse. You’re kind, you’re fun, and I like being around you. The curse doesn’t change that."

He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. "But it’s more than that. I—" He stopped, struggling to find the right words. "I’ve never been able to love. I thought tAs the last light of the sun disappeared, the world around you both settled into quiet darkness. The night had always been the time Gojo feared most, a time where he would become something no one could love, something people should be afraid of. But now, as the familiar transformation took place, he felt different.

The serpents in his hair, which had once felt like a burden, a symbol of his monstrous nature, now seemed calmer. They didn’t thrash about as wildly. Their hisses were softer, more like whispers in the night air. Gojo could feel the roughness of his skin returning, but he didn’t shrink away or try to hide it. For the first time, he didn’t feel the need to conceal what he had become.

You sat beside him, unmoving, your hand still resting in his. You had felt the change, the way his skin became rough and cold, the way the serpents moved through his hair. But none of it mattered to you. To you, Gojo was still Gojo—the same playful, kind-hearted soul who had let you into his life, despite his fears. You couldn’t see the physical transformation, but you knew it was happening, and yet, you remained as steady as ever.

Gojo’s chest tightened with emotion. He had spent so long believing no one could accept him, that his curse would forever keep him distant from real connection. And yet, here you were, sitting beside him through the night, just as you did during the day. The idea that someone could love him despite the curse felt like a foreign concept, but he was starting to believe it was possible.

“I don’t understand how you do it,” Gojo whispered, breaking the silence. His voice was thick with emotion, the vulnerability he usually kept hidden spilling out in the darkness. “How you can sit here with me, knowing what I am.”

You smiled softly, turning your face in his direction. “Because I know who you are, Gojo. You’re not just your curse. You’re someone who makes me laugh, who cares about others, even when you don’t want to admit it. And you’ve been there for me in ways no one else has.”

Gojo’s serpents hissed softly, their movements slow and lazy, almost as if they, too, were listening to your words. He felt his heart clench at your response, the weight of years of isolation and loneliness pressing down on him. How had he gone so long believing that he could never be loved? How had he convinced himself that the curse defined him when you, someone who couldn’t even see his physical form, understood him better than anyone ever had?

“You don’t realize how much this means to me,” Gojo said quietly, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “I’ve spent so long hiding this part of myself from everyone. I thought no one would ever accept me for what I am, for who I am.”

You squeezed his hand gently, grounding him in the moment. “I do,” you replied simply. “And you’re not alone anymore, Gojo. Not as long as I’m here.”

The simplicity of your words hit Gojo harder than anything else. It wasn’t a grand declaration, but it didn’t need to be. The quiet confidence in your voice, the way you said it without hesitation—it was enough to make Gojo believe, truly believe, that he wasn’t doomed to a life of isolation.

Without thinking, he pulled you into a gentle embrace. His arms wrapped around you carefully, his touch light, as if afraid that you might shatter if he held on too tightly. The serpents in his hair brushed against you, but you didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, you leaned into him, letting him hold you in the soft darkness of the night.

Gojo closed his eyes, savoring the moment, the warmth of your presence, the steady beat of your heart against his. For so long, he had feared touch, had feared what might happen if anyone got too close. But with you, everything was different. You weren’t afraid of him, not of the monster he became at night or the beauty that captivated everyone during the day. You had seen past all of it, and what remained was something real.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” Gojo murmured into your shoulder, his voice muffled but filled with emotion. “But I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to lose you.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your head up toward him, your hands still resting on his arms. “You won’t lose me, Gojo,” you said softly, your voice full of quiet assurance. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Gojo’s heart swelled with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t just relief or gratitude. It was something deeper, something he had never allowed himself to feel before. Maybe it was love, or maybe it was the beginning of it—he wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, it made him feel like, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t defined by the curse.

The night stretched on, and neither of you spoke for a while. You simply sat together in the silence, the world around you peaceful and still. Gojo’s serpents eventually quieted, their hissing fading into the night as they, too, seemed to relax in your presence. His rough skin no longer felt like a prison, but just another part of him—one that you had accepted without question.

As the moon climbed higher in the sky, Gojo finally spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to love.”

You smiled, your hand reaching up to gently brush against his arm. “That’s okay,” you replied softly. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Gojo felt something inside him shift, a wall that had been there for years slowly crumbling away. The curse had told him that love was impossible, that he was destined to live a life of isolation, but here, with you, he realized how wrong that had been.

And maybe, just maybe, he could finally let himself believe that love was something he deserved. Something that could be real, even for someone like him.

As the night wore on, Gojo held you close, the weight of his curse finally feeling lighter than it ever had before.

he curse made it impossible for me to feel that way. But now, with you…"

You remained quiet, letting him process his thoughts, your hand resting gently on his arm in reassurance.

"I don’t know what this feeling is," Gojo continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I think it’s what people mean when they talk about love. And it scares me because I’ve never been allowed to feel it. I’ve been alone for so long, and now… I don’t want to lose you."

His confession hung in the air, raw and real, stripped of his usual bravado. He wasn’t the untouchable Gojo anymore—he was vulnerable, a man who had spent his life behind a wall that you had somehow managed to break down.

You reached out, finding his hand once again, your touch steady and warm. "Gojo," you said softly, "you’re not going to lose me. I’m here because I want to be. And if this is love, then I’m okay with that. I care about you, curse or not."

His breath hitched slightly, his eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation, any hint of doubt. But all he found was your steady presence, your unwavering belief in him. Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease, and for the first time, Gojo allowed himself to fully believe in the possibility of love.

The sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting the world in twilight. The familiar transformation began, but this time, Gojo didn’t shy away from it. He stayed right there with you, feeling the hissing serpents in his hair and the roughness of his skin. But none of it mattered—not when you were still there, holding his hand, unafraid.

And for the first time in his life, Satoru Gojo realized that love was possible. That maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t cursed after all.

The night had stretched on, far longer than either of you had realized. The moon was high in the sky, casting its cold, silvery light over the two of you. Gojo’s arms still held you close, his heart beating softly against your chest, a steady rhythm that seemed to calm the serpents that moved through his hair. For a brief, fleeting moment, everything felt perfect. But that moment was fragile, delicate—like a thin sheet of ice that could crack under the slightest pressure.

Gojo’s mind drifted, lulled by your presence, but at the back of his thoughts, something darker stirred. It had been too easy. He had spent his entire life living under the weight of his curse, believing that love was an impossibility, that he could never truly be close to anyone. And now, with you, it all seemed too good to be true. He had finally let his guard down, allowed himself to hope. But deep inside, the fear remained, gnawing at him, whispering that this happiness couldn’t last.

“I don’t want this to end,” Gojo whispered, his voice trembling slightly, betraying the fear he had been holding back.

You looked up at him, your head resting against his chest. “It doesn’t have to,” you replied softly. “We’re here, Gojo. Together. That’s what matters.”

But Gojo’s hands tightened around you, his body tense. “What if I hurt you?” he asked, his voice strained. “What if one night, I lose control? What if the curse takes over completely?”

You shook your head, trying to reassure him, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. He had always feared this, hadn’t he? The curse wasn’t just about the transformation. It was about the danger that came with it—the unpredictable, wild force that lived inside him, waiting to strike. He had managed to keep it at bay for so long, but how much longer could he fight it?

“I trust you,” you said softly. “You’re stronger than the curse, Gojo.”

But even as you said the words, Gojo’s heart clenched with doubt. He wasn’t sure if he believed them anymore. He wasn’t sure if he could keep control—especially not now, when his emotions were raw, exposed in a way they had never been before. The more he cared for you, the more he feared what could happen if he let his guard down entirely.

And then, without warning, it happened.

One of the serpents in his hair lashed out, faster than either of you could react. Its venomous fangs sunk deep into your arm, the bite almost imperceptible at first—a quick, sharp pain, barely noticeable. But then it spread, like ice crawling through your veins, freezing everything in its path. Your breath hitched, and your body stiffened, your hand falling limply from Gojo’s arm.

“No,” Gojo gasped, his voice breaking as he pulled back, horror spreading across his face. “No, no, no…”

He reached for you, trying to stop what had already begun, but it was too late. The curse had taken hold. Your body was growing cold, your skin turning pale and rigid as the venom worked its way through you. Stone. You were turning to stone.

“I—I didn’t mean to—” Gojo’s voice was frantic, his hands shaking as he tried to cradle your stiffening form. He could feel the life draining from you, could feel the warmth of your presence slipping away, replaced by the cold, unyielding weight of the curse.

Your eyes met his, wide with shock and fear, but there was no anger in them—only sadness, a deep, aching sadness that mirrored Gojo’s own. You tried to speak, but your lips wouldn’t move, your voice trapped in your throat. All you could do was look at him, helpless, as your body slowly became a lifeless statue.

Gojo’s heart shattered. He had finally let himself believe in the possibility of love, and in a cruel twist of fate, the curse had taken it from him. His worst fear had come true—he had hurt the one person who had accepted him, who had loved him despite everything. And now, you were gone.

“I’m sorry,” Gojo whispered, tears streaming down his face as he knelt beside you, his hands trembling as they brushed against the cold, stone surface of your skin. “I’m so sorry…”

The night felt unbearably silent, the world around him fading into the background as he clung to the last remnants of what had once been you. The serpents in his hair were restless, hissing in agitation, but Gojo barely noticed. All he could think about was the weight of your lifeless form in his arms, the hollow ache in his chest where hope had once bloomed.

For a long time, he just sat there, staring at you—at the beautiful, tragic statue that you had become. His mind raced with guilt, with sorrow, with the overwhelming realization that he was truly, utterly alone now. The curse had taken everything from him.

And as the dawn finally broke over the horizon, casting its golden light over the world, Gojo felt no warmth, no relief. The curse that had once only taken hold of him at night now felt like it had taken hold of his heart, his soul. There was no escape from it now.

He stood slowly, his movements mechanical, his gaze fixed on your frozen form. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t bear to look at what he had done. And so, with a heart heavy with grief, Satoru Gojo turned and walked away, leaving the statue behind—forever a reminder of the love he had lost, and the curse that had doomed him to a life of eternal loneliness.

There was no breaking the curse. There was no happy ending.

Only the cold, unrelenting truth that some things were never meant to be.

TAGLIST: @ryomens-vixen @littlemochabunni @blkkizzat @buttercupblu143 @lowkeyremi @yung-notorious @arlerts-angel @honeeslust @nkogneatho @hoshigray

[alice-after-dark]

Mer!Vox AU

I have wanted to do a Mer!Vox AU for a while now, but I hadn't quite found the vibe I wanted until @hiemaldesirae posted this adorable art and my brain ran away with me.

That being said, this AU is uh...not nearly as adorable. My brain does weird things with the most random of inspirations.

Takes place during the Golden Years of New Orleans (1810-1840).

Alastor is a wealthy oddities collector living in Victorian Era New Orleans. One day while out and about, he is approached by a man who claims he has something remarkable to sell him.

TW for implied racism, blood, gore, cannibalism, and other canon-typical triggers.

It wasn't uncommon for people to approach him, trying to sell their snake oil. Anyone who knew Alastor Bourreau's bizarre tastes tried their hand at it at least once. So when this weasel of a man approached him, claiming to have a real live mermaid to sell him, Alastor nearly dismissed him. It was only when the man showed him a scale, a glittering iridescent shade of blue he'd never seen before, did he decide to entertain the sleazy man's offer. He'd go, see what hoax they'd put together, and be on his way. Some entertainment for the evening.

The full moon is high among the stars when he arrives at the warehouse with Husk by his side. Confident does not equal stupid and he is not nearly foolish enough to come to the docks alone at night. The man from before greets him with a bow and hurriedly ushers him into a back room while Husk makes his revolver known to their host with a casual brushing back of his coat. A show mostly. Alastor is perfectly capable of defending himself should the need arise, but he would rather not if he can help it. Giving away his secrets is not something he does lightly.

A long glass box filled with water sits in the center of the room. Heavy chains are wrapped around it. Alastor hardly acknowledges either of these things. No, his eyes are fixated on the beautiful creature inside the box.

The creature appears to be a young man, skin pale as moonlight and eyes a brilliant blue. Those same shimmering scales twist and ripple under the warehouse lights. He is gagged, more chains wrapping his body and biting into the flesh.

He is real. Alastor is certain of it.

The weasel sees his interest and starts to haggle, an unpleasant wrenching forming in Alastor's gut as the fool discusses the price of another person. The thought sickens him, knowing that had things gone differently for him he could have very well been on the opposite end of this endeavor.

But Alastor does not collect these things simply to marvel at them behind glass.

He collects them to learn.

"While your generous offer is greatly appreciated, I think I'll just take him."

"What?"

The shadows descend.

When it is done, the scent of blood hangs thick in the air. Alastor takes a deep inhale and basks in it. Beside him, Husk rolls his eyes, muttering "freak" under his breath. Alastor steps over a severed arm and kneels before the box. The creature inside looks up at him with curiosity. Alastor snaps his fingers and the chains unravel themselves, falling away from the box with a clatter. He opens the lid slowly, holding a hand over the creature and mimicking the same spell on the gag and chains binding it. The mer rises, grasping the edge of the box and lifting himself up so he is meeting Alastor's gaze. One hand comes up to touch the man's face, tracing his features and prodding curiously at his glasses. Alastor lets him explore, content with indulging the creature.

A low groan interrupts them.

The weasel man is still alive. Limbless, but alive. Husk pulls out his revolver, but the creature moves first, dragging himself across the floor with alarming speed and descending on the man. Pupils and irises give way to brilliant red and razor teeth and claws take turns rending flesh apart. Blood soaks the mer's front and Alastor remains silent as the disgusting little man is devoured. Eventually the screams fade and the creature pulls back, blood and viscera dripping from its jaw. His eyes turn to Husk.

"No, no," Alastor interjects. "He's with me."

The mer pulls back. The red glow fades from his eyes. He wipes the gore from his face, licks his hand clean. His tail begins to twist and warp, scales recede and pale flesh emerges. Alastor watches in fascination as the tail becomes legs and the mer takes on full human shape.

"Holy shit," Husk breathes.

Alastor stands, regards him with interest. He crosses the room and offers a hand to the creature. Thin fingers grasp his and the young man stands, stumbling almost immediately and collapsing against Alastor who braces him.

"Thank you."

"Ah so you can speak." There is a sheet draped over some crates nearby and Alastor has his shadow bring it to him. He wraps it around the young mer's exposed body and brushes wet locks away from his face. "Could we have your name then? I am Alastor and that man you almost ate is Husker."

"Husk is fine," the older man chimes in.

The mer pouts at up at Alastor and Alastor decides that a bloodthirsty creature who just devoured a man in front of him has no right to look so cute.

"I wasn't going to eat him. I thought he was going to shoot me." He pulls the sheet a little tighter around himself. "My name is Vox."

"A pleasure." Alastor scoops him up into his arms. "Shall we depart then? It wouldn't do us much good to get caught here."

Husk offers him a two-fingered salute and the three make their way out to the waiting carriage. Alastor's smile reaches his eyes as the mer gazes around the docks in wonder and he gazes out the window their entire ride back home.

What an interesting creature indeed.

---

Not sure if it actually counts as cannibalism since Vox isn't actually human, but tagged just in case lol

[tainted-liquor]

𓇼𓈒ㅤׂHow Curious... 𓆉 [4.11.23] - ft. Miles G. Morales 𓆡 genre: fluff, part 2 of Sea Grillz!

What a liar.

Two years ago, you met a human. A beautiful, beautiful human who promised that he would come back and visit you. You waited around the coral for months, breaching the surface of the freshwater haven every now and again to see if the familiar red metal cargo ship ever showed up again. You kept that piece of soft cotton fabric wrapped tightly around your gills in hopes that one day the boy would remember you and come back. What was his name again? Prowler?

You zoomed through the warm currents of the 'Big Lagoon', otherwise known as the Caribbean Sea by the surface dwellers in search of some new findings at the bottom of the ocean. Your tail eagerly jerked through the waves, propelling you forward with the force of a bullet train as you scanned the ocean floor for any new finds. You had somewhat of a collection; a brass hand mirror, several giant beady 'pearls' of some sort, silky gloves, and a plethora of coins from all ages and times. It was dark, barely visible as your eyes struggled to pick out every minor detail due to the lack of sunlight. But truth be told, you only had one thing in mind as you glided through the pure water.

You breached the surface, hair falling along your shoulders as your beautiful coral and shell necklace rested against your collarbone. You looked up at the warm skyline, losing yourself in the vibrant shades of orange, pink, and yellow that decorated the world and illuminated your skin. You raised a hand out of the warmth of the ocean, watching as your skin morphed from a pale blue to your natural melanated tone. Your jewelry consisted of pearls, small shells, your swamp blue scales that you lost along the way, and solid diamonds that shimmered on the horizon. It was perfect; no humans to disturb the mesmerizing crash of the waves or the blue tint of the water.

You felt for your cold neck, grazing your soft fingertips over the ripped piece of cotton wrapped around your neck. A sense of melancholy suddenly filled your mind, missing the man that appeared before you and swept you off your fins. You looked around the bare ocean, whispering a silent prayer to whatever may be listening. Oshun? Ikatere? Whoever ears it fell upon, you'd hope they'd hear you.

"Please come back tomorrow..."

You bowed your head before darting back under the deep blue, blazing through the current with no other goal than to get home safely. It was hard to describe this feeling of grief. Maybe it was the promise he muttered that remained broken, or maybe it was his sense of style with those iron-clad claws and shiny teeth. He hadn't left your mind since he sailed away, but you sure left his. You cozied up next to the soft pink anemone, allowing its tentacles to flick and wave at your nose.

The ocean surface went from gentle pinks obscured by ripples of water to pitch black. The inky sky glowed with speckles of stars as you laid back on your lively 'pillow', gently running your fingers through the rough nylon of the rope attached to your waist. You thought to yourself for a moment, dancing over the buttery kapa fabric that covered your chest. It was just like every other night, staring at the water's edge while you attempted to lull yourself to sleep. But there was a sudden urge for you to get up and swim out far east.

You gasped, hopping up at the speed of light, tail twitching with an unfamiliar sensation. Your iridescent scales glimmered under the moon...something was nagging you to swim east. So what did you do? Swam as far right as you could.

"Tú en mi cama..." Miles muttered, deep purple Prowler mask glimmering in the moonlight as music flooded his brain. He knew he was stupid for sailing out in the middle of the sea for no reason, but he had to see that pretty little mermaid again. The one with the big beady eyes and the baby-soft skin, yeah. That one. It had been two years since he last saw that face, and you've been burned into his brain ever since. So now here he was, out in the middle of the sea as his new watch spewed out coordinates for him to follow.

Still in that same red cargo ship he stole two years prior, he sped out into the uncharted waters in pursuit of the woman with the blue skin. and the perfect scales. It was a dark and eery atmosphere as he voyaged forward. The ghostly hue of the moonlight led him forward, serving as his candle in the abyss. The ocean shimmered, each wave highlighted by the fluorescent white as Miles put the engine in reverse and allowed the boat to bob above the water.

He stepped away from the helm of the ship, his heavy-duty boots making a loud thudding sound against the deck as he swung both legs against the railing. He hummed along to the reggaeton music that was blasting through his headphones and took another glance over the sea line. His twin braids swayed gently with the low whistling of the wind, as the cold air kissed every inch of Miles' exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Everything seemed to follow a pattern; the waves would flow and crash against the ship, and the wind would puppeteer his braids. Until there was a familiar deviation in the water.

You darted forward, ducking and weaving between corral, debris, and anything that stood in your way as judgment guided you forward. You passed by the little crabs and gave a couple pats to some adorable Mahi-Mahi before you saw it; the strange shadow you were met with long ago. Your eyes widened with hope and adoration, making no effort to conceal your presence as you breached the surface. "Hey!" You shouted upon seeing the familiar purple glow from some sort of mask. The small white eyes widened, glitching from their regular slits to tiny hearts as you swam closer towards the ship.

"Oh, shit-...Chiquita! ¿Cómo has estado? I missed you!" He shouted, lowering down some sort of boat attached to some ropes that he gestured for you to climb into. You held on to the edge of the smaller wooden boat, lifting yourself up with all your strength as you plopped down onto the rickety oak. He hoisted you up, using all his strength to pull you up on the deck with him. The floor of the ship was freezing cold, floorboards creaking under the added body weight as you flopped on the ground. You lifted yourself up on the palms of your hands, coming face-to-face with the strange 'prowler' once again.

"Where have you been! I've been waiting for you for...for...forever! You said you'd be back!" You shouted, wasting no time as your sopping hands grazed over his exposed arms. His skin was cold to the touch and littered with goosebumps as you attempted to take off his mask, earning a low chuckle from the boy in front of you. He grabbed your wrist, gently moving your hands away from his face as he went to speak. "How often do you think I can boat out to the middle of the ocean? Hmm?" He asked, his tone laced with gentle sarcasm and slight heartbreak. He really did want to come back sooner, but time has never been a friend of Miles.

"I see you found more jewelry," he commented, gently taking your glimmering hand in his as he examined the diamonds, aquamarine, gold, and blue calcite that decorated your knuckles. You were worth millions...fins or no fins, you had a killer jewel collection that could fund an entire generation's college ride. Miles sat on the floor so he could be at eye level with you, pulling you in his lap as he collapsed his retractable mask. "I got jewels too," he mumbled, before opening his mouth just enough for you to see the shimmery glint of...teeth jewelery?

Your eyes widened, pupils dilating as you leaned forward to get a good look at his mouth. His sharp canines were covered by a silver outline, while his bottom teeth were lined with what looked like pure diamonds as you ran your fingertips against the smooth metal. "This is...wow," you sighed, admiring the sparkling gems as Miles smirked at your reaction. "This is called a grill," He muttered, closing his jaws before you made an attempt to put your head in his mouth. You nodded, still processing his flashy sense of style as he scanned over your ethereal garments and figure.

"So what y'all be doin' down there? What's it like on the ocean floor?" Miles asked, gently kissing the thenar of your palm as your hand came to caress his face. You thought for a minute, letting the cold wind blow against your frostbit skin. "It's dark...I mean, I have angler fish! But other than the dark, it's very cozy," You shrugged, hands dancing across his black cotton turtle neck. "It's got a lot of cool things, and a lot of coins. Definitely a lot of coins..." You chuckled, feeling the soaked fabric trickle water down the nape of your neck.

"Damn...New York is never dark," Miles laughed. His laugh was cold and hollow, but oddly comforting as he fixed your makeshift 'waist beads' made out of a piece of rope. He took your face in his cold, and rough hands as he admired your perfection. He'd never seen such a pretty girl in his life, and she was miles away out at sea. Your button nose perfectly complimented your full, two-toned lips. Whoever invented that fuckass 'Phi' system was wrong, YOU were the most beautiful girl in the world; with your glimmering scales, flashy gems, and gorgeous eyes.

He wanted to take you back with him and keep you all to himself, so the greed of the world could never reach out and take from you like they took from him. But deep down he knew there wasn't a place for you in his world. He placed a cold, comforting kiss on your collarbone as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "C'mon, tell me about what you did while I was gone," Miles chuckled, hoisting you up as he waltzed toward the helm of the ship. He wanted his conscience to narrate his thoughts in your voice, that thick islander accent and velvety tone talking to him about his own moves.

You talked his ear off for hours, sitting pretty on his lap while he learned all about Aycayia culture, what you eat in a day, and how prevalent 'rare' gems are in the deep blue sea. He didn't care that he was soaked from head to toe, or that he was losing feeling in his legs the longer you stayed on his lap. He just wanted to hold you for a little bit longer as you mindlessly fiddled with his silver chain. His hands gently caressed your hair before reaching into his back pocket to pull out a small pinkish purple metal 'watch'. "I gotta go, I'm so sorry..." he muttered, attaching it to your wrist as the futuristic bracelet emitted a soft glow.

Your head cocked to the side, trying to make sense of the strange device. "This will show me your coordinates. Don't lose it. I'm gonna bring you with me one day, I promise," He mumbled, holding you as close as possible. The wind sang a song of melancholy, the ocean coming to a still as you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces. You wanted him to stay, to tell you more stories of his life as 'The Prowler'. You hated the idea of not seeing him for another two years, tears pricking at your waterline as you smushed your cheek against his.

"I really...really love you. Please don't take too long...?" You whispered, the top half of your body hanging off the rim of the ship.

"...I love you too."

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x  @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc @al3xwqz @l0starl