#seaside encounter

[dailyadventureprompts]

Plane: The Abyssal Unknown

Artsource

Deeper than deep, this sunken dimension exists beyond the bounds of all seas be they watery, hellish, or astral. A surreal and lightless landscape decorated with the remnants of sunken cities and vessels lost across time.

Known by some mariners and mystics simply as "The Below", this dimension was once simply an afterlife for those claimed by fathomless waters, whether they be stormtossed sailors or the inhabitants of civilizations washed away by floods. Where once it graciously accepted such lost souls, In the past century though the Unknown has become somehow covetous, reaching out to grasp at whatever prize strikes its fancy.

Adventure Hooks:

Those sailors that come too close to drowning may be marked by the Unknown, which will stop at nothing to claim their bodies and souls. Such is the case for the revenant the party is hired to deal with, an old sailor who dug her way out of her grave and walked several miles towards the sea before tying herself to the sign at the crossroads outside of town. She claims that no matter how she might want to rest in death, the "sea" will not give her peace. It will be up to the party to decide what to do with her, whether delivering her to a watery grave or seeking the aid of some other divinity.

After recovering a fortune from a wrecked treasure ship, a salvage crew is being picked off one by one, with a few of them hiring the party for protection against what they think is an attempt by their jealous coworkers to cut them out of the deal. Infact they are being haunted by a horrid half-real beast known as "the Scuttler", part crab part ghost haunted hulk, which guards the doors of the Abyssal Unkown (and objects it lays claim to) the way Cerberus guards Hades.

A series of storms washes up wreckage and strange valuables near a seaside town, bringing beachcombers and treasurehunters of all kinds. A dreaming compulsion settles over those that take things from the shore, driving them to gather driftwood and other materials from the brine, and begin the construction of a vessel there on the beach. When questioned in their half lucid state, they claim that the ship they build will "take them home, and further still", an odd claim made even by those who'd lived in the village all their lives.

Sink deep enough into the trenches of the Below and you will find the tombs of the first oceanic gods, bleached coral monuments and epitaphs carved around the vigil-fire of thermal vents. The Abyssal Unknown was once their mausoleum, a place where their descendants and adherents could pay their respect, preserved forever in the crushing embrace of the depths.

That was before the Collector came, a malign spirit of the depths not quite demon or outer god. Driven by an insatiable desire to know and possess, it usurped the Below's guardians and remade the realm in its own image, bending the Unkown's ancient magics to it's purpose of acquisition and scraping the dead gods' skulls for knowledge like the lowest of scavengers at whalefall.

So much knowledge has been lost to the sea over the course of history, and it is only a matter of time before the collector archives it's aim of ascending to true divine status. Already it's power grows, gathering agents and seeding the idea of its ascension into the minds of receptive followers.

[saturnniidae]

I think we should have more httyd or rotbtd horror

[attractthecrows]

entertaining myself by inflicting bastard children on my faves

[alttevee]

on humanity in dark times XXIX (R8256) by Rossoindia Via Flickr:

[untypicable]

How to Win an Argument with a Seagull

Seagulls. Winged menaces. Coastal tyrants. Nature’s answer to an aggressive debt collector. No other bird has perfected the art of intimidation quite like them. You don’t feed seagulls—they take. You don’t argue with seagulls—they win. And yet, every year, thousands of unsuspecting British holidaymakers attempt to engage in unwinnable battles with these feathery bandits. A chip is stolen. A…

[sophiamcdougall]

I am never going to complain about Greek Duolingo again

I mean, I am. But still.

So, as some of you know, my family has been coming to this tiny Greek seaside village for several years. Just over a week ago I came out here with my mum, under the impression that early September, after the height of the summer heat, would be a good time to have a holiday. ANYWAY Storm Daniel had other ideas about that. Locally things are improving (I'm actually really pissed off about the disaster-porn tone of most English-language media coverage, but that's another post). The power is back on, there's running water most of the time, and though the latter is not drinkable, a truck from the government came and handled out free bottled water yesterday. But we are currently kind of stuck. Can't do tourist things. Can't go home. There aren't any local flights out until Saturday and the road to Thessaloniki is still closed.

So this evening, feeling kind of aimless and depressed, I go down to the nearest beach with a couple of binbags and start cleaning up in an effort to at least do something positive. I always try to do this at least once out here and obviously, after the storm, there's a lot more plastic and rubbish than usual.

At some point I find this large, round bit of metal - some kind of machinery part, I think -- that's too big for the bag, so I take it to the bins on its own, leaving the rubbish bag on the beach. And when I come back for it, something among the stones beside it moves.

Specifically, it pulls its head sharply inside its shell

So, meanwhile I've been trying to learn some Greek with the help of Duolingo.

I currently have a 33-day streak and... I have questions. Shouldn't I be able to use the past or future tenses by now? Shouldn't I be able to say "x is like y"? I can't do those things. But one thing I absolutely can say all day long is έχω μια χελώνα : I have a turtle.

This is far from the limit of Duolingo Greek's turtle-related content. "An obsession with turtles" is my mother's characterisation. I can inform you that the turtle is not a bird, and, improbably, that the turtle is drinking milk. I can introduce you to a turtle in company with a horse and an elephant. As far as Duolingo is concerned, it really is turtles all the way down.

Now this, you may be able to see, is not a turtle. It has claws rather than flippers. It is a tortoise. I know there are wild tortoises in Greece: my aunt once rescued a pair of them shagging in the middle of the road -- but that was up in the mountains. I've even seen one myself, but it was also on a road and very dead.

I am 95% certain they don't belong on beaches. There's nothing for it to eat, except, unfortunately, a lot of plastic. Even if it gets off the beach it will immediately find itself on a road where it could get hit by a car. I'm pretty sure it must have been washed down by the floodwater and has been just sitting there, dazed, ever since.

Now obviously the first thing I want to do on encountering this unusual animal is to go and tell my mummy, so I do. The tortoise immediately brightens her day. She agrees that the tortoise is not happy on the beach and needs to be taken somewhere safe. it gets surprisingly wriggly when picked up so we put it in a carrier bag with some grapes and cucumber and go looking for somewhere to rehome it.

We find a path leading up between the houses towards a likely-looking field, but before we get very far a dog in a yard goes berserk and a man's head pops over a fence and demands to know what we're doing. He does this in English, as evidently we're just that obviously tourists.

"I found a tortoise on the beach!" I explain. "We want to find somewhere to put it."

"A what," he asks.

"It's like a, you know," I begin and then to my astonishment I find myself saying... "μια χελώνα"

"Oh! A turtle!" he says.

"But from the land. δεν είναι χελώνα", [it is not a turtle,] I say, as I am worried he will tell me to put it back near the sea where I found it. As it turns out it actually IS a χελώνα, Greek does not distinguish between turtles and tortoises, but I don't know that; I can't even name the days of the week or identify any colours other than pink yet, give me a break.

The man's entire demeanour changes and thaws. He does not worry about my turtle-that-is-not-a-turtle conundrum. He knows where οι χελώνες come from and where η χελώνα μας belongs. He leads us through a gate into a courtyard area.

"[somethingsomething] μια χελώνα," he explains to the assembled onlookers, of whom there are, suddenly, a surprising number.

"ΜΙΑ ΧΕΛΩΝΑ!!!" crows the throng of delighted small children, who are, suddenly, everywhere.

"μια χελώνα!" I agree, accepting that at least for current purposes, that is what it is.

"Μπορούμε να δούμε τη χελώνα σας; [can we see your turtle?]" asks an adorable little girl, shyly, and I understand??

The children fucking love looking at the χελώνα and showing it to them is kind of magical?

I finally put the tortoise down on the grass of this wild area off to the side of the courtyard, and marvel aloud that it is weird that I barely know any Greek except how to say μια χελώνα.

"I think she will soon run off," a kind lady called Aspasia assures me, seeing I remain slightly anxious about its fate. "I don't know why I'm saying 'she'. I suppose because χελώνα is feminine in Greek."

"Yes! I know that!" I exclaim, thrilled.

"Well done!" she says. And also she asks if we are OK for drinking water after the storm and if we need any help with anything and is just generally incredibly lovely and now we know more of the neighbours!

So "μια χελώνα" has just become, by a long way, my most-used and most understood and all-around most conversationally successful phrase in Greek. So I guess I have to admit I was wrong to doubt Duolingo's wisdom: it is correct to be obsessed with turtles. And I concede that prior to learning how to count to ten or to distinguish right from left, the simple ability to yell the word TURTLE over and over again is, it turns out, a crucial element of the responsible traveller's social skills.

(I am pretty fluent in Italian and turtles haven't come up in conversation even once?)

[hbystuff]

Seaside encounters - 64 colours

[valkyri]

Lighthouse keeper Price struggling not to let the loneliness and isolation seep into his mind and bones, running on autopilot for several years after his wife got swept away to sea leaving no trace.

Price encountering novelist!reader who's just here for an inspirational vacation to the strange little seaside town with its even stranger inhabitants. So why does she bear a striking resemblance to his late wife? Is this a test? A reward for all his hard work and resilience, perhaps? He knows the sea takes and takes, but sometimes she gives back, right?

[demonic0angel]

I've been playing Dredge lately and had a thought:

Danny, a small seaside town's best fisherman, and his babies, Eldritch Dani and Dan, who prefer to live underwater and come up to see their dad, who goes out fishing every day.

His nets are always full, and his boat never encounters any problems. He always steers true, never goes off course, and keeps finding old sunken treasure in his haul.

Everyone in town knows Mr. Nightingale, and his boat sailing by becomes a sort of good omen for the folk of nearby towns. He always leaves on his own, comes back with his hold full, and two small children, which weren't in the boat in the morning, go running into town with their father at their heels. Then they all go to the beach at sunset, the children dive under the last big waves, just before the sun goes down, and twin masses of glowing lights swim into the distance, waiting for their father to go meet them again the next day.

It's good like that. The town prospers, the fish are good and plentiful for just having one or two fishermen go out every day, and the little family gets to live in a community that won't question their origins.

It's when one hero (whichever, Bat, Lantern, Martian or Super, whatever you prefer) in particular gets shot out of the air and washes into Mr. Nightingale's nets that questions start being asked, most importantly, where is the children's mother, and did Mr. Nightingale get intimate with the personification of the sea, like in Ponyo?

Extra: I know the favorite of the fandom is to ship Danny and a Bat, or a Super or Flash, or even Sam and/or Tucker.

But what if, in his late teens, Danny went off to learn from other Ghosts, met the ghostly embodiment of the ocean? They spent a few years being intimate, enough that they hosted Dani and Dan's unstable cores until proper maturity was reached, got two darling little ones out of the deal, and whenever Danny sails into the horizon, he goes to meet his partner in their own element, spends his time with them and comes back with gifts from his spouse, nets full of fresh fish, and gets the children for the rest of the day, so they can grow up in both worlds. They meet up at night at the beach so the little ones can play on the sand while their parents spend a few hours cuddling and watching the sunset.

Ooh, this sounds so interesting! Something about Danny being in love with an oceanic being sounds so ethereal? Like space and the deep sea, y’know? Two mysterious, deep places with hidden depths that humans cannot fully reach.

Not only does this remind me of Ponyo, but it also reminds me of the Pirates of the Caribbean (in a way), where two lovers are separated by sea and land. On that note, we could make Danny marry Davy Jones.

I have nothing to add, but I do think it would be funny if Danny was a hermit with a mysterious past and heroes start coming to his little sea port to ask for old, sage hero advice.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Grasping for Answers

Throughout their early adventures the party come into conflict with the agents of the mysterious mage known only as "The Ravelling Hand", a villain of uncertain identity who seems to have lots of schemes and no qualms using violence, trickery, and unexpected magic to get what they want.

Adventure Hooks:

The party first become entangled with the hand's minions when they're asked by an innocuous travelling merchant to deliver a small wrapped parcel to the wizard living one town over. The wizard isn't open to receiving guests, and after sneaking or charming their way in, the party will find out why: her apprentice has been kidnapped, the parcel contains both of the boy's index fingers as well as a note explaining that she can have the rest of him back in exchange for several dangerous texts in her collection, delivered by the party to the same intermediary who hired them. A brawl is likely to ensue as the wizard suspects the party is in on the blackmail, but if they can talk her down maybe they can figure out a way to work together to get the boy back before any more harm comes to him.

Most thieves know better than to try and rob a magic item shop, but most thieves aren't armed with dispel magic infused salt grenades to neutralize the shop's ubiquitous defences. A rash of these attacks across the duchy has shopkeepers worried, and one hires the party to stake out their store for the night when they suspect someone is casing it. Do the party trail the robbers back to their hideout, or interrupt them mid heist only for combat to delay them long enough for those indiscriminate defences to start turning back on?

Spoiler Alert: The mage is in fact an arcanely gifted lesser kraken by the name of Dlexx who seeks to avail itself of all the magical knowledge amassed on land. Sure the deep has its own mysteries but there's a thriving trade in spellscrolls and arcane tomes that don't make it below the waves. Using an old lighthouse as a disguise for its massive form while on land, it uses telepathy and sendings to direct its minions without ever revealing its true nature. Imagine the party's surprise when they roll up to the villain's lair expecting to bully some crusty nerd with a ratty beard and instead the lair sprouts tentacles that drag them into the crashing surf.

Challenges & Consequences

Finding Dlexx is an adventure in and of itself. When questioned, most of the mage's minions admit to never having met their employer, and those high ranking enough to have been summoned to a place called "saltbite tower" in dreams only to later have their memories muddled. Careful interrogation and study of local maps will have the party realize that the tower is infact an abandoned lighthouse, which will narrow their search as they comb the costline for their enemy's lair.

Actually defeating the Ravelling Hand might prove too much for early level adventurers, as in addition to being a powerful mage the kraken is literally in its element, able to breathe and move while the heroes flounder. Dlexx will toy with them, throwing unconscious foes out of the water the way a fisherman throws back a catch that is too small. When the battle is over and it's proved it's point the kraken will collapse the tower and leave into the wide ocean, telepathically taunting them with their inability to follow.

Though the Ravelling Hand will not resurface for some time, the destruction of the tower and Dlexx's retreat into the deep is partially a bluff. The kraken chose that particular lighthouse because it was a short distance away from the coral reef into which it scribed its arcane learning the way a wizard records spells in a book, coiling arms etching formulae into hundreds of yards of living stone. Dlexx must periodically return to the reef to add spells to it, and sightings by locals (or the occasional fish manifesting with magical talent) might clue the party into the reef's existence.

A pair of merfolk siblings named Crashing-Tide and Arcing-Mirror serve the Ravelling Hand as apprentices and scribes, having promised seven years of utmost loyalty in exchange for the chance to bring the arcane knowledge of the surface back to their community. They tend to the reef, and allow the Kraken to borrow their eyes from afar so that it might study the spells scribed there. Several years into their pledge, Crash (the sister) has come to idolize Dlexx and the power it wields above and below the waves, wishing that the whole of their shoal to come into its service. Mirror (the brother) is skeptical, well aware of the kraken's manipulations and distantly suspicious of the conflict that it invokes. Perhaps if the party can intercede with these two they can learn more about their enemy's plans, though doing so will take some careful diplomacy.

Artist

[onlyhyunjin]

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒!

(♡) - my personal favorites (🔞) - CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT

FALLEN STAR - @h5eavenly (A story of two hurt souls finding comfort within each other in the most unexpected ways.)(🔞)(♡)

OFF LIMITS - @yeonzzzn (your older brother has always told you “no boys” and his friends “sister is off limits”, which always worked…until everyone comes back home from college and you see how grown up his best friend has become…)

CHILLING AND KILLING - @yeonzzzn (ghostface Jake au) (♡)

SURPISE BABY - @alvojake (jake was deadset on making your birthday special even if that meant making you hang out with your friend until he was finished setting up his last birthday surprise.)

AFTER HOURS - @heesbaby (jake sim, bassist of AFTERHOURS and all round terrible guy, so deep in his self absorbed world where everything went his way and everyone fell at his feet. he hardly noticed you moving in next door until he caught a glimpse of you in the hallway. completely uninterested in your neighbour, you did you best to ignore his advances. that was until you found yourself humming along to the songs he practiced every night.) (♡)

WATERMELON SUGAR - @wonryllis (he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.)

MEET ME AT OUR SPOT - @jjunieworld (with the news of your grandma’s depleting health, life has you moving to your mother’s seaside hometown for the summer to your aunt’s. while there, you meet the illustrious player—jake sim—that everyone can’t seem to stop talking about. what you never expected was to gain his attention and spend the three months you’re there falling for him.)

BREAK THE ICE - @jaylver (Punching a guy in the club then kissing him not long after at a hockey game wasn't exactly a fairytale, but for you, it was your reality. The worst part of all it wasn't even the incidents that happened, but the fact that you didn't know him or his name. That was until another stir of events that happened which caused you and him to actually meet, so what was the best way to break the ice after a disastrous punch and a shocking kiss together? A date. It could be love at first sight, or more accurately, it was love at first punch, or … kiss? )

NEW YOU - @sageryuri (all hell breaks loose when you, the heir to the throne, decides to run away to begin a new life. luckily, you experience a surprise encounter with jake sim, which brings upon freeing adventures and sprouts a taboo relationship between a princess, and a poor criminal.)

KIWI AND LAYLA - @asahicore (in which you mistake jake’s backpack for your own, making you each go home with the other’s bag. both of you are too curious for your own good, so you quickly find out that you excel in the subject the other is failing - a mutual tutoring agreement ensues, and it turns into much more than what you had expected.)

WEBS OF HURT - @jaylver (Falling for your best friend wasn't on your check list for high school. As if that wasn't enough to break your heart, his odd behaviour only added fuel to the fire along with a new crush of his. Who knew that odd behaviour would soon turn into a secret truth that you'd discover after his valiant effort of hiding.)

[dooberific]

Hello~! I love reading your work so much hehe, I'm not entirely sure if you are open for requests so please disregard if you aren't. Can I request Harumasa and reader that they first met in the hospital as kids due to having the same disease and once they were discharged they simply forgot about eachother. Then one day, they met again (pure coincidence) and had a happy reunion. Maybe throw a childhood friends to lovers, fluff hehe. Thank you!

Subjecting reader to Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome is a more popular thought than I anticipated.

Still working on other requests as I have time, it took me way too long to do this but in my defense I’m back in the dregs of Uni.

❝ 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: slice of life ig?? Reads pretty platonically imo, runs vaguely parallel to his agent story largely without reader interference (we keep it as canon as we can). Reader has ether aptitude regression syndrome.

summary: He didn't think ghosts from the past were so bright or so loud as the one that finds him at Port Elpis.

wc: 4.8k

Port Elpis was a lonely place. 

But that was just his opinion on the matter. 

Maybe in the eyes of the children that sat joyfully chattering next to their grandfather as they fished off the pier it would be a place full of happy memories, or the perfect backdrop for a romantic encounter for the lovers who walked wistfully along the seaside. 

But he had neither a family nor a lover to enjoy such memories with, and with his frail body perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing. “To live with no regrets” felt like an honorable way to go. There would be no one deeply hurt by his loss, no one to leave flowers at his grave, and just as briefly as his time was slated to be on the earth the memory of his existence would fade into nothingness. 

So he would quietly enjoy his solitude, savor the time like it was sweet on his tongue, and pretend for just a moment that life wasn’t as abbreviated as fate demanded it to be by capturing it through the immortal lens of his camera. 

The birds that floated in the sea breeze. Patterns of stone left in the sand by a previous visitor. The view from the top of the lighthouse. Colorful boats bobbing in the sea. The lights over the water at night. 

The scenery rarely changed but that didn’t matter, it was an excuse to feel the warm kiss of the sun on his skin and feel the whisper of the sea air tickle his weakened lungs, to pretend that once he returned to the quiet of his apartment that every image he took wouldn’t be doused in a deep greytone as if some secret melancholy bared its teeth and drained his day of its vitality. 

He still got the images developed but he stopped looking at them. They felt too much like having one foot in the grave, the hazy discoloration something he associated more with the burning dread that buzzed in his veins and prickled at his eyes when the ether became too overwhelming. He could save himself the money and the effort, stop taking photos he would never want to look at again, but it was never so peaceful for his troubled mind in any other place.

The sky was overcast, heavy clouds threatening to rain their contents down upon the world as the wind nipped viciously at his skin. The normal residents of the Port were nowhere to be seen, all the buildings neatly closed in the anticipation of inclement weather. 

He could have taken it as a sign to make himself scarce as well, return home and curl up on his couch while the weather passed and not risk catching a cold, but if his day was meant to be spent in dreary solitude he would rather take the moment to feel it against his skin than hide away with no company other than his own thoughts. 

Being soaked to the bone and riding the high of his careless actions would be a better fate than sitting with his thoughts that seemed more heavily laden with dread as the days passed. 

So he stayed. 

He stayed as his hair matted to his skin, heavy with rainwater that soaked through his clothes and stained his camera lens. His camera would be ruined for sure, it wasn’t waterproof after all, but he could buy a new one. He wasn’t good at saving money for a long time anyways.

The pictures would be terrible and blurry, all doused in their own dreary grey even as he continued to take photos. There was no warmth to be found in the once pleasant landscape, and he was prepared to give up all hope for salvaging his mood which was now as waterlogged as his sneakers before a vibrant color flashed to life across his streaked lens.

He lowered his camera, squinting into the onslaught of rain that rolled the waves viciously against the pier. It was an unfamiliar boat bobbing on the waves, outriggers neatly folded to attention. The vessel itself lacked any colorful ornamentation, the flash of color he had seen belonging instead to the figure that worked diligently on the deck. 

A bright orange pair of overalls.

He wasn’t expecting to see the boat again the next time he returned to the Port, but there sat the trawler at the end of the pier accompanied by orange overalls. He could put a face to the choice of colorful outerwear now, or the beginnings of one from where he stood. He had no reason to get closer, he wasn’t on particularly warm terms with anyone at the Port, so it took him by surprise when your face appeared so suddenly within the viewfinder one day. 

“Excuse me?” 

He startled, quickly dropping his camera from where he held it. 

Orange overalls.

“Have we met before?”

The question was innocent as it rolled from your lips, the rubbery exterior of your overalls squeaking as you shifted on your feet. Your gaze was intense but non threatening, more brimming with curiosity than anything as you studied his features closely.

“Sorry if it’s sudden,” your laugh was awkward. “I’ve just seen you around here a lot and couldn’t shake the feeling.” 

There was no need for you to apologize, he had also been struck with an uncanny sense of recognition the longer he looked at you as well.

“I get that a lot.”

 Your question was genuine but he couldn’t help the lie that pushed past his teeth. It was rare for him to be mistaken for someone else, especially when he was in the city. If you detected his deception you didn’t show it, clicking your tongue thoughtfully as you pointed at him.

“Middle school?”

Oh, so you were still convinced you had met before.

He shook his head. “No.”

“University?”

“Nope.”

“The grocery store?”

“You remember everyone you see at a grocery store?”

Your brow furrowed. “Guess not.” 

He was confounding you at every turn it seemed, but the nagging feeling of familiarity had yet to leave. You had grown quiet, gnawing your lip thoughtfully.

Your fingers snapped suddenly. “I’ve got it, were you… in the hospital for a while as a kid?”

“I was.”

Before you answered a distant call floated over the waves. He couldn’t make out the words but your head quickly whipped around, arm raising above your head with a dramatic wave.

“I’m coming!” You yelled back before shooting him an apologetic grin. “Sorry for bothering you, I guess I’ll see you around.”

He watched your figure recede down the pier, the thumping of your boots on the wood fading as you rapidly went out of earshot. 

Your next interactions were cyclic, short conversations with speedy exits as you would run back to your boat. He had some inclination to believe you had a homing beacon centered on him, as you managed to find him despite his frequent location changes, beaming at him with the same warm expression that nearly rivaled the brightness of your orange overalls.

You never mentioned your first conversation again nor asked his name, instead asking him random questions as they seemed to strike your fancy. About his favorite food, his favorite color, movie recommendations, if he had any pets, what he liked taking pictures of so much that he returned almost daily. It was largely nonsensical, and he found you harder to read with each passing day because your eyes seemed to sparkle as if the tiny bits of knowledge he divulged had painted some elaborate picture of him in your mind. 

Even with you sharing little tidbits of your own monotonous life you had tied his mind into intricate knots. Your father was a fisherman, more precisely a shrimper you had proudly proclaimed as you undid the straps of your overalls to show him the pink shrimp decal on the back of your sweatshirt. You never mentioned a mother or any siblings, nor any friends. You liked to swim but couldn’t do it often. Your favorite color was a very precise shade of pink, and you liked to read books about personality types and astrology when you weren’t busy. Mindless details that gushed from your mouth with absurd passion. 

Somedays he wasn’t sure if it was the sun or your vivacious personality that warmed him more, your happy-go-lucky mood infectious as you chattered away. You were quickly becoming part of his routine, strolling alongside him spewing silly facts about sea animals or begging him for little details on his day. 

Your characteristic orange overalls had been featured in some of his photography as well, cheerfully adding a splash of color to even the dreariest backdrops. You made shrimp nets look pleasant and the creatures even more so as you ran up to him, pulling one from your pocket as you waved it at him like a child with a centipede just to sneak it into his own pocket before he left. 

For once everything seemed dripping with color, the thrill of seeing your glowing visage as you waved at him from the deck of your father’s boat turning his stomach in a pleasantly warm manner. 

He broke his own rule. He got comfortable with someone else, comfortable in his limited time, in his own skin, and he missed the little signs until it was glaring in his face. 

The sun was warm enough that the sound of the waves was nearly sufficient to lull him to sleep as he sat dangling his legs off the pier, the water teasing his soles in a silent ploy to drench his socks. The day was quiet, almost uncomfortably so and he wasn’t sure why. Port Elpis was always lively when the weather was pleasant, but there was a nagging sense of unease that drew his lips into a firm line.

You weren’t around. 

He felt silly. The two of you weren’t close by any means, acquaintances more than friends. There was no reason to miss you, you were nothing but a loud disruption to his day. He didn’t even know your name. 

But if that was really all you were to him he shouldn’t have felt his gut twist unpleasantly when he realized your absence, nor when he finally saw you and realized you didn’t look well.

You looked haggard and pale, movements sluggish as if it demanded too much energy to fully pick up your feet. There was a constant grimace painted across your face, like each movement was laced with pain. You scarcely looked his way as you approached, eyes sunken. 

“Oh, hey,” you spoke through gritted teeth as your eyes wavered weakly. Even now you did your best to wave, hands trembling fiercely. “I can’t hang out today, sorry.”

“You’re sick.”

It was a matter-of-fact statement, no longer an observation. He would recognize that look anywhere, he had seen it a thousand times growing up. 

“Were you… in the hospital for a while as a kid?” 

He shouldn’t have been thoughtless. It was out of character for him to not pry into every tiny detail of the life of a stranger that had so unceremoniously pushed into his life, like a flower sprouting from a sidewalk crack. With a little effort he was sure he would have unearthed a medical history as extensive as his own, all starting from the same place with a name he tried desperately to forget. 

He rubbed the choker at his neck. He’d never seen your nape either, strategically covered by the hood of your jacket or a high necked top. He’d never questioned you on the days when you lied poorly to his face about why you had a limp, or why you looked so tired, always claiming it had been a long day and nothing more. 

Some highly trained intelligence officer he turned out to be.

“Let me help you.” The words came out faster than his body moved, swinging his legs back up onto the pier. 

“It’s okay.” You reassured, weakly attempting to wave him off. “It’s not that serious, I’m just tired.”

“Tired my ass, you’re sick.” He hissed. “This isn’t something you can play around with, now let me help you.”

You were lighter than he thought you were, but maybe he had anticipated more muscle to be hidden under the frumpy layers you wore daily. You smelled like a fishing boat but not in a way he found unpleasant, your arms wrapped around his neck as he carried you down the pier on his back. He could feel your body trembling. 

“I’m sorry.” You muttered regretfully, forehead pressed against his shoulder as he stepped off the pier and onto your boat, his step wavering for just a moment before he regained his balance. 

“Stop apologizing.” He chided as you directed him to where your room was under the deck. The space was awkward to navigate with you on his back, but if he experienced any difficulty he didn’t verbalize it, dutifully depositing you on your unmade bed. 

“I really am sorry though.” He wouldn’t be able to convince you it was fine, but he would be able to shoot you a disapproving look as he grabbed the heel of your boot and slid it off before giving the other the same treatment. 

You frowned, shifting as if you were uncomfortable in your own skin. “I’ve bothered you on your time off.”

“You’ve never bothered me.”

He tugged on the leg of your overalls, he would have to commend you on your dedication. As if interpreting his cue you unlatched the shoulder straps, allowing him to help you slide them off before he discarded them on top of your boots. At least you dressed comfortably beneath them, though he would let the ridiculous sparkly fish patches on your sweats go this time. 

He tossed your comforter over your head. “But you will bother me if you don’t rest.” 

You didn’t protest, flipping the fabric off your face with a huff. You knew he was right. 

“Hurry up and get better, I’m not going to wait forever.” He said curtly as he stepped into the hallway, pulling your door shut behind him.

“Wait!” 

He paused, the door hanging ajar. “What is it?”

You swallowed thickly, tongue fuzzy. “(Y/n). My name is (y/n).” 

His hand tightened on the doorknob. 

“Harumasa.”

The door shut, but Pandora’s theoretical box had already been opened.

He remembered you.

They called you the luckiest unlucky child in the world. It was a ridiculous name that you seethed at because you found nothing of your situation lucky. Your mother had claimed the record for longest lived patient with Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome, but such distinction meant very little when your father stood over her grave cradling you in his arms. 

Within a few years you would look just like her, idle in a hospital bed with numerous lines running from your thin, veiny arms as they kept you so sedate the childish glow in your eyes had faded into a drug induced stupor. 

You were lucky to be born, and unlucky enough to survive.

Most days were good, you were strong and vital as if the ugly veins of your illness didn’t lurk just below the skin. You ran through the halls, constantly attempted to escape to the lush yard of the hospital, sat with the other kids after they got out of surgery to give them offerings of crude crayon drawings and wild stories of swimming in the ocean and the creatures within it. 

But your bad days were palpable, the halls silent without you there to fill the air with wild stories and laughter. No one visited you when you had a flare up, tears and snot streaking your face as you silently cried through the pain that ignited every nerve ending in your body in such a way that even the act of breathing hurt in a near unbearable manner. 

Your father would sit in your room for hours at a time in those moments, anxious over your worsening condition up until the moment they barred him from seeing you. Before the week was over he had a court order that relinquished you of their care and returned you to him. 

The day you left, Harumasa had resigned himself to the fact that he would never see you again. The likelihood of either of you surviving childhood was slim enough, but to dream of meeting in a place outside the walls of the hospital was an idea even he didn’t dare consider. 

Seeing you now, seeing you grown, was almost enough to make him believe some good deity watched over the world and deemed you too kind to die young.

He would have to find a new place to seek solace, Port Elpis was becoming something dangerously close to the memories he sought to repress, but his body acted on autopilot and brought him back every day without fail.

One week turned into two, and just as the third was cresting you reappeared with a smile on your face.

You were stupid to take your health so lightly.

He was stupid to let himself become invested.

“I remember you!” Were the first words you said after reuniting with him, swinging your legs off the pier as you sat so close beside him your shoulders pressed together.

“It’s just been a few weeks, I’d be concerned if you didn’t.” 

You pouted, elbowing his side. “You know that’s not what I mean. I remember you from before, from the hospital.”

“Looks like we both grew up well, huh? But I guess you did better than me. Is it creepy to admit that I searched your name on the InterKnot?” If you were truly embarrassed it failed to show, a low whistle passing your lips. “Section 6, you went and became a real bigshot.” 

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

You swung your head low, teetering dangerously on the edge of the pier as you jutted your face into his line of sight. Your eyes sparkled with the same mirth that curled the corners of your lips. “Says the guy that doesn’t work on a shrimp boat. Take the compliment, even I’m proud of how far you came.”

You kicked at his ankle. “Not many of us have the chance to say that.”

Ah. There you went again, reminding him of a twisted past he couldn’t shake. Sure, his therapist thought it would do him good to confront the ghosts of his childhood, but he liked to disagree (if him promptly claiming he was “done with therapy” and “thanks for your time, doc” before walking out and never returning their calls had anything to say about it). There were too many things he wasn’t ready to face head-on, even if they crawled from the pits of despair and grasped at his ankles so fiercely that the thought alone slowed him down. 

But it did stir back the embers that burned his gut with unease from an interaction he had not that far in the past.

“Has anyone from the hospital tried to contact you recently?”

“Well yeah, they are all worried about my condition after my flare up.”

“Not that hospital.” He clarified. “The old one.”

Your eyes danced across the scenery for a moment, lips pursed in thought before you shook your head. “Nope, not that I can remember. Why?”

He left out a relieved sigh, shoulders slouching momentarily. He still wasn’t sure what his Master’s assistant wanted, or why he suddenly appeared before him now trying to toy with his feelings using other sick children as emotional leverage, but at least he hadn’t found you yet. He fished his phone from his pocket, unlocking it as he handed it to you.

“Put your number in there. There’s no reason for us to be strangers.” 

He was blatantly evasive, and you could certainly tell but you didn’t raise any qualms as you typed in your phone number. “Signal is spotty when we go out of the Port, so if I don’t answer quickly don’t get all worried thinking I got kidnapped or died or something.” You warned as you passed his phone back before puffing out your chest proudly. “I like to think I’ve still got a few good years in me.”

His smile when he looked at you was so sincere you nearly toppled off the pier in shock, one hand quickly planting against his cheek as you forcefully turned his head away while the other gripped the fabric of your shirt over your heart.

“Those interknot forums weren’t kidding,” your tone was distressed as you looked away from him, “your smile really is a deadly weapon.”

He laughed. He laughed at you, at the absurd way you managed to turn a rapidly darkening conversation into something ridiculous and sugary sweet. It was as novel as a syrupy popsicle on a hot day, the aghast and shy way you—the natural enemy of public embarrassment—had now turned. 

It was bright, vital, blooming with a color he didn’t think he could find in the world anymore.

Then it all grew violently dull.

[ Shrimp Girl ] Someone from the old hospital came to see me today

[ Shrimp Girl ] I think he said his name was Kirishima?

His stomach plummeted as he read your message in the wee hours of the morning, and it didn’t abate until he laid eyes on you working diligently at the Port a few hours later. The morning sun had yet to crest the horizon, the air hanging thick and grey with morning dew. You stood out like a traffic cone, bundled in a few extra layers to fend off the cold as you worked. 

It was his hurried footsteps down the pier that alerted you to his presence, a smile on your face as you waved at him. “You’re here early. What’s with the serious face?”

The scent of the sea and the creatures you had skimmed out of the water was almost noxious to his sensitive nose. He was afraid he only tolerated the smell when it lingered on your clothes. His nose wrinkled as he nonchalantly lifted a hand to it as if it would help the smell abate.

“I just needed to make sure you were alright. What did Kirishima want?”

“Nothing.” You said with a shrug. “He didn’t ask for anything, just the usual small talk you get from doctors. You know, “can’t believe you made it this long” and “you look great”, stuff like that.” 

He was beginning to question your survival instincts, anxiety bubbling in his gut. Kirishima may not have shown his true colors yet, but it was suspicious that he showed up looking for you after years of radio silence. His own personal connection to Kirishima made it less surprising, but his link to you was still vague and incomplete.

“Now that I think about it, he did mention that he’s working on some new drug, said he might open a trial for it soon.”

His blood ran cold, a hand quickly wrapping around your wrist. The serious expression he wore was new for you, his features usually relaxed when you ran into him. 

“Please don’t take anything he gives you.” 

You nodded slowly, feeling his fingers firm against your pulse.

“I’m going to be busy for a few days, so don’t look for me.” His grip faltered, slipping from your wrist to hook around the crook of your fingers. They were cold, not unlike his own. 

He didn’t owe you an explanation or some promise of a timeline. He could walk away from the Port and never turn back, find out what Kirishima wanted and pretend seeing a ghost from his past never occurred, but seeing the concern that knitted your brows at his words was enough to make him regret the sharpened tone he had used. He toyed with your fingers.

“I’ll buy you a nice meal when I get back, so don’t get worked up thinking I’m never returning or something.” 

You hooked his pinky around your own. 

“I’ll hold you to it then.” 

He was grateful your boat wasn’t in the Port the day he separated the children from Kirishima, something about the idea of you being far away from that place coming as a welcome relief. The kids would have liked you, loved you even. While he could put on a brave face and lie through his teeth you were so charmingly real that he had little doubt you would have been an inspiration, but you were too soft and there were too many hands yet to be revealed. 

You would have been another worry to plague his mind, and with the Proxy breathing down his neck it would have been hard to focus on navigating the current mess he found himself in. 

It was a mess indeed, like watching a carefully crafted tower crumble as the top became unsteady, unraveling in a glorious display of dust and ruin. He knew it would be the case before he agreed to meet Kirishima at the Port to look for where his Master hid his research, but he wasn’t expecting to see you there.

Maybe he should have expected it, you had seemed anxious at his curt communication over the past weeks while he gathering what information he could before an inevitable confrontation with his Master’s assistant. Maybe he should have expected whatever ugly connection with Kirishima that was woven into your past to rear its head at some point. 

Your expression was harsh, the edges of a bandage showing around the sides of your neck. There was a vial in your hand, your knuckles white from how tightly you gripped it.

“I did what you asked, now back off.” You hissed between your teeth as you tossed the vial at Kirishima, the man laughing as he caught it with infuriating ease.

He flipped the vial up to the light filtering from the industrial fixtures that shined from the shipping containers, a clear and colorless fluid washing within. Spinal fluid.

“I knew you would come around to my way of thinking. Why don’t you join us for a moment, an extra pair of eyes might be useful.”

Your gaze wavered to the blackened edges of the hollow behind him, taking a half step back as you shook your head. 

“Come on now, don’t tell me you’re—,”

Harumasa’s hand was heavy on his shoulder, Kirishima pausing just to glance back at his guarded expression, eyes flickering back to you for a brief instance as a impish grin tugged at his lips.

“Fine, I guess it can’t be helped.” He fished in his labcoat pocket, producing a folded stack of papers before he tossed them at your feet, the papers soaking instantly as they hit the wet pavement. 

He waved the vial at you tauntingly before he pocketed it. “Thank you again for your service, the children will be so appreciative.”

Your guilt ridden expression was the last thing Harumasa recalled seeing as he stepped through the barrier of the Hollow, the Proxy hot on his trail.

He didn't see you for weeks, his condition too fragile in the wake of the high ether levels he subjected himself to in the hollow. Whether it be Section 6, the proxy, or even the kids from the sanatorium it was hard to find a moment of quiet, though he couldn’t deny that it was a welcome change from his normal solitude. 

Everything had quietly pieced itself together. His master’s ultimate purpose with his research, Kirishima being prosecuted for his crimes, the children being given another chance at having a childhood instead of existing as human experiments. 

It felt…nice for once, the sun comforting on his skin as the sea breeze toyed with the tails of his headband. Everyone had long gone home, leaving him in silence once again. His eyes fluttered shut under the intensity of the setting sun, his lungs filling with salt-laden air as the inside of his eyelids stained a brilliant orange.

Orange.

Like the color of your ridiculous overalls, or of the novelty candy you insisted he try with you. Orange like the canned drinks you were fond of when you decided to treat him and yourself to a greasy snack from the stand back at the parking lot. The color of your nails when you decided to paint them on your day off, proudly waving them in front of his face. The same orange of your swimsuit the day you shucked off your normal wear and dove off the pier into the frigid water. You actually were a strong swimmer when your body wasn’t trying to destroy itself thanks to your shared disease.

Orange like the stripe painted on the side of the shrimp trawler that drifted by in the distance when he reopened his eyes, a hand raising to shield them from the harsh rays of the setting sun. 

“Ahoy there!” You shouted through cupped hands. He couldn’t see your face from where he stood squinting into the light, but he knew you were smiling, framed in a halo of vibrant orange.

"I'm ready to cash in on that meal you owe me!"

Port Elpis was a lonely place.

Was is the real curiosity if you asked him.

Rey 2025

[calliesmemes]

EVEN MORE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS FROM AROUND THE INTERNET, including quotes from Tumblr, Pinterest, TikTok, and X (formerly known as Twitter), for when a muse wants to lighten up the situation at hand.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   It’s sea shanty time once again my fellow bastards of the ocean! ”

“   Partner, I reckon that I ain’t been feeling very yeehaw lately. ”

“   I don’t study; I consult the lore. ”

“   Yeah, I understand women — they all want daggers and swords. It’s all quite simple, really. ”

“   Lord forgive me but I may have to make a nonessential purchase. ”

“   Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. ”

“   Yes I’m a gatekeeper and a hater. I’m also God’s most favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. ”

“   My primary motivations are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ”

“   Man — if I had a sword, I wouldn’t be worried about shit. ”

“   It’s not blood that runs through these veins but glitter gel pen ink. ”

“   If I was in a Jane Austen novel, I would be the one sent to the seaside for my health. ”

“   Half of me is a hopeless romantic, and the other half of me is … well … an asshole. ”

“   I am the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person I know. ”

“   I hope I give off the vibe to all animals that I am their ally and their friend. ”

“   I see you’re paying attention to someone who is not me. Why is that? ”

“   Normalize letting me talk without making any sense. ”

“   Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus my psychic visions have predicted the outcome of this encounter. ”

“   I could be so much worse. For example, I could start acting like my father. ”

“   Sorry for acting so strange and irregular; It will happen again. ”

“   i love sitting in my room.....alone....a girl in her cave....scheming and plotting and drinking tea. ”

“   These man made horrors are beyond YOUR comprehension. I get it though. ”

“   I’m a goth girl on the inside. On the outside? A father figure. ”

“   I don’t need to face reality; I’m not just that type of girl. ”

“   DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A frickle-frackle? ”

“   I’m about to cha cha real smooth off a fucking cliff. ”

“   Sorry I told you about my trauma. Do you still think I’m hot? ”

“   My priorities aren’t straight and neither am I. ”

“   I have felt permanently guilty for no reason since I was like eight years old. ”

“   Of course I have a lot of pent up rage, you fool! I’ve been the same height since I was twelve years old! ”

“   I was born for shock value. ”

“   Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem. ”

“   Oh, I slept miserably because I was tormented by terrible visions all night. I hope none of them were prophetic! ”

“   Be the surreal nonsense that you want to see in the world. ”

“   Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot. ”

“   My hobbies include knowing things and being right. ”

“   This is good advice, but don’t tell me what to do. ”

“   I hate the idea of authority. What the fuck is someone being superior to me? Bitch I’m gonna take your kneecaps. ”

“   Stop forgiving my crimes! I worked so hard on those! ”

“   My hobbies? Uhhhh, symbolism mostly. Metaphors and implications and the like. ”

“   I may not have any braincells, but I make up for it by having many heart cells. ”

“   I can’t mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one guys! ”

“   Not all your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value. ”

“   Sometimes I wish I looked more fragile and feminine like a dainty flower, but I do enjoy looking like I hate everyone. ”

“   Any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ”

“   girl help there is not enough enrichment in my enclosure. ”

“   BRO, you NEED to stop SUMMONING DEMONS in the FRAT HOUSE. ”

“   I just gave your address to some spiders! ”

“   I disappoint my father as a hobby now. ”

“   I think that the dark circles under my eyes add to my aesthetic actually. ”

“   Good news! I’ve successfully replaced all of my emotions with jokes! ”

“   I have half a braincell left and I’m very scared to use it! ”

“   Listen, son — in this world, it’s either yeet or be yeeted. ”

“   I appreciate the advice, but I think that I’m old enough to make my own bad decisions. ”

“   I’m disappointed in me too. Y’all aren’t special. ”

“   Running from your demons is the best exercise! ”

“   Sorry; I can’t commit any crimes with you. My mom says that I have to study. ”

“   Time flies when you don’t know what the fuck is going on. ”

“   If I run out of tacos, I can no longer maintain my human form. ”

“   Bestie, I don’t think that I can girlboss under these conditions. ”

“   Yeah I’ve had combat training; I can do anxiety attacks! ”

“   Swag is earned, not learned. ”

“   Contrary to popular belief, violence solves a lot. ”

“   I CANNOT STAND YOU ALL so I will SIT DOWN. ”

“   Please God no … I don’t need any more character development right now! ”

“   If you can’t beat ‘em, yeet ‘em. ”

“   Do not put me in a situation. I’m at my limit and I am very tired. ”

“   I may be depressed, but at least I’m not basic. ”

“   It’s MY LIFE and I’ll sabotage it myself, thank you. ”

“   Think twice? Bold of you to assume that I think once. ”

“   At the next inconvenience, I will start biting people. ”

“   Oops I think that I just experienced an emotion. ”

“   Did you know that rats spelled backwards is star? ”

“   One day, I’ll be reincarnated as a pigeon, and I’ll shit on your head. ”

“   On the outside, I’m a baddie — but on the inside, I’m a saddie. ”

“   My grandma bullies me through the Ouija board. ”

“   I’m a cool person if you can just look past my personality. ”

“   Beetles don’t have to do taxes, and I think that is a beautiful way to live. ”

“   I hope that you get your character development arc soon. ”

“   Those are some nice kneecaps … It’d be a shame if someone stole them … ”

“   I’ve wanted to be a trophy wife ever since I was a little boy. ”

“   I’m done being baby; I want POWER ”

“   Wait, “Just Standing There Ominously” doesn’t count as socializing? ”

“   Yes I am smart, and yes, I am stupid. It’s called being flexible. ”

“   I am NOT delusional!!!!! I am OPTIMISTIC! ”

“   I deserve compensation for not being the menace to society that i could be, like i'm skipping out on a lot of fun here. ”

“   Do not ask me if you should or shouldn't do something !!! Before I am a friend I am an enabler !!! ”

“   i am the WORLDS PRETTYIST PINK PRINCESS and im gonna KILL YOU WITH MY HUGE FUCKING HAMMER ”

[sunny44]

Chapter 4 (Love is in Mallorca)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Y/n goes to Mallorca intending to leave her life behind, at least for a while. Then she meets a mysterious guy who makes this trip, to say the least, unforgettable.

Previous chapter

I woke up with the sun shining intensely through the curtains, announcing another hot day in Mallorca. I rolled over in bed, the sheets tangled around me, and stared at the ceiling. The previous night’s encounter still echoed in my mind like an unfinished melody. With every moment I spent by his side, the feeling that something important was being kept a secret grew, and his silence was starting to weigh on me.

I sighed, slowly getting out of bed. The reflection in the mirror showed a lighter version of myself, someone rediscovering joy in small moments, but also a woman in conflict. Being with him was like walking a tightrope, not knowing when or if I would fall.

As I dressed in something light for the heat of the day, my phone vibrated on the bedside table. It was a message from him. My heart raced automatically. I hated myself a little for it.

“Breakfast? I found a place you’ll love.”

I smiled at the screen. Even with all the uncertainty, there was something in his words that made everything feel simple. It was as if, no matter how complicated the mystery surrounding him, he still wanted to show me the best side of life. And I was willing to accept that — at least for now.

“I’ll be ready in 20 minutes,” I replied, feeling a wave of excitement swell in my chest.

He was waiting for me outside the hotel, leaning against a motorcycle I hadn’t seen before. As I approached, he smiled, a relaxed and confident smile, as if we were about to embark on another little adventure.

“Are you taking me for a ride on a motorcycle now?” I asked, laughing and raising an eyebrow.

“That’s right. I thought the view would look even better this way,” he replied, smiling.

He came closer to me, and carefully, without breaking eye contact, he placed the helmet on me.

Carlos climbed onto the bike, and I sat behind him, my arms hesitating for a second before wrapping around his waist. The contact was electric, but I forced myself to relax, letting the morning breeze carry away the doubts that still lingered in my mind.

The journey was just as he promised: filled with breathtaking views of the island, cliffs that dropped straight into the blue sea, and winding roads that seemed to take us away from everything. The smell of the sea, the sound of the waves, and the thrill of the motorcycle all mixed together, creating a feeling of freedom.

Finally, we arrived at a small seaside village, where he parked the bike. There was a discreet café, hidden among large leafy trees that offered a pleasant shade. The tables were set outdoors, facing the sea. It was the kind of place you’d only find if you were a local or… someone who truly knew the heart of the island.

We sat at a table with a direct view of the water. The aroma of fresh coffee mingled with the salty air, and the sound of the waves crashing on the nearby beach was calming.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, calling the waiter.

“It’s amazing, as always,” I replied, watching him more closely. He was relaxed, but there was something in his eyes that seemed distant. As if, even in that perfect moment, he was hiding something. “How do you always know the best places?”

He smiled, that reserved smile I was beginning to understand hid more than it revealed.

“I like to explore, and Mallorca has a lot to offer.” He turned his gaze toward the sea, and something in his expression changed. A silence formed between us, thick and almost palpable.

I couldn’t help it. I had to ask, I needed to understand.

“Why do you always seem to avoid talking about yourself?” The words escaped before I could stop them. “I don’t want to be intrusive, but… sometimes it feels like you’re hiding something. Something important.”

He turned to me, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that caught me off guard. The silence that followed was suffocating, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer.

“It’s not that I want to hide,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “It’s just that sometimes, when people know who you are… they see you differently and expect things from you. And I like how you see me now. No labels and no expectations.”

That answer, though evasive, made me understand more than he intended. Whoever he was, he was someone who dealt with judgments, expectations, and perhaps even fame. And he was trying to escape it, at least for a while. With me.

“I think I understand,” I replied softly. “But… you know I’m not the type to judge, right? Whoever you are.”

He gave a sad smile, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more, that he was on the verge of telling me everything. But, as always, he held back.

“Let’s enjoy breakfast,” he said, changing the subject with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I promise the coffee here is the best you’ll ever taste.”

And so, once again, the mystery remained. As we ate and chatted about trivial things, the invisible tension between us continued to grow. He wanted to tell me, I knew it. But something was holding him back.

When we finished breakfast, he suggested a walk on the beach. We strolled side by side, with the sun shining high above and the sea gently lapping at the sand. For a while, it felt like we were in our own world, no rush, no worries.

But as the afternoon wore on, the doubt began to weigh on me again. I wanted to know him, wanted to understand who he really was. And I knew that eventually, I would need to push this conversation. But, for now, I decided to give him more time.

In that moment, as we walked along the beach, I realized that, regardless of what I would come to discover about him, I was already deeply involved. Perhaps even more than I cared to admit.

And him? He seemed to know that too.

Still, the silence between us continued, and with it, the weight of what remained unsaid.

Whatever came next, I knew it would change everything.

Bonus scene!

Privy/n Instagram stories

“I’m having the best vacation ever”

@lieslostinsilence @iloveallmyboys @r4zberrygirl @hoya122 @sid-is-gr8 @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @barcelonaloverf1life @dark-night-sky-99 @willowsnook @thegirlamongthestars

Next chapter

[morbidpandabear-blog]

Little Knight

Pairing: Dragon King! Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fantasy, dragon shifter, fluff, romance.

———————————————————————————

The kingdom of Eldoria had always had a hatred for dragons. Ever since Y/N was a child, she had been taught that they were monstrous beasts—killers of men, destroyers of villages. But she had never believed that. Y/N had been raised on stories of fire and blood, yet she saw something else in dragons: power, beauty, and a wild freedom she could never hope to attain as a knight of King Junyoung’s court. Still, she had sworn her loyalty to the human kingdom, sworn to serve, and so when she was given the mission to track and kill an injured dragon in the Shadowpine Woods, she had no choice but to obey.

With her sword strapped to her hip and her armor glinting in the dappled forest light, she moved through the dense trees, the scent of damp earth filling her lungs. The reports had said that the dragon was gravely wounded, that it had crash-landed somewhere deep in the heart of the woods after an encounter with Eldoria’s seaside forces. Killing it should have been easy.

But when Y/N found him, she froze. The dragon lay in a clearing, his massive body curled around himself in pain. His scales were darker than midnight, yet as the sunlight filtered through the trees and struck his body, they shimmered with a breathtaking emerald hue. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, his left wing tattered and bloodied but healing ever so slightly by the second. And then, his head lifted slowly, and she was met with piercing golden eyes—intelligent, powerful, and searing into her very soul.

Something inside her stirred, something ancient and unexplainable. This wasn’t just a beast. He was ‘Alive’ in a way that humans could never understand.

She tightened her grip on her sword, hesitating. The dragon—Yoongi, as she would later come to know—stared at her, not with fear, but with curiosity. There was no hatred in his gaze, no fury. Only… recognition.

“I won’t kill you,” Y/N whispered, sheathing her sword.

Yoongi let out a deep exhale, his massive body relaxing slightly. And though he could not speak in this form, she swore she saw a glimmer of something knowing in his eyes.

She turned away from him and left.

———————————————————————————

When she returned to the castle that night word had gotten to the king of what she had done, or really what she hadn’t done. King Junyoung sat upon his golden throne, his sharp eyes narrowing as she knelt before him in the grand hall, surrounded by nobles and fellow knights.

“You let it live?” His voice was cold, dangerous.

Y/N lifted her chin. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Murmurs erupted throughout the court. A knight refusing to slay a dragon? It was treason. Junyoung’s fingers drummed against the armrest of his throne. “You have disobeyed a direct order, Y/N.” His voice was quieter now, but no less lethal. “You have betrayed your kingdom.” Y/N clenched her fists. She had always known this would be the consequence, but she would not regret her choice.

“I cannot, in good conscience, kill a creature that meant no harm, he was merely flying past and our forces attacked.” she said, voice steady. Junyoung’s eyes darkened. “Then you are no knight of mine.” The guards stepped forward, swords at the ready. Y/N closed her eyes, accepting her fate.

But then, the ground trembled.

A powerful gust of wind burst through the throne room doors as they were thrown open with a resounding boom. Gasps filled the air as shadows loomed in the entrance, towering figures stepping inside. Dragons.

Or rather—dragon shifters. And at the center of them all stood him. Yoongi. No longer in his dragon form, he was now a man of striking beauty. His black hair fell in soft waves around his sharp features, his piercing golden eyes unwavering as they locked onto hers. He was dressed in dark, regal attire, his presence exuding an authority that sent shivers down the spines of all who dared to look at him. And behind him stood an army of dragon knights, their expressions cold and unyielding.

The court was silent. Yoongi stepped forward, his voice smooth yet commanding. “She is mine” he stated firmly. Y/N’s breath hitched as Junyoung’s face twisted in fury. “What?” Yoongi’s golden gaze did not waver. “She is my mate,” he declared. “And if you lay a single hand upon her, King of Eldoria, then you will be starting a war you cannot win.” A collective gasp echoed through the hall.

Mate.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. She had heard of such bonds before—rare, powerful connections that transcended mere emotion. It was a claim made only by dragons, an unbreakable bond forged by fate itself. Yoongi had known the moment he saw her in the woods. And now, he had come to claim her.

Junyoung’s jaw clenched, his fury palpable. But he was not a fool. To defy the Dragon King would be to bring ruin upon his kingdom. After a long silence, he spat, “Take her and go.”

Yoongi smirked, satisfied. He turned to Y/N then, stepping closer. His hand reached for her, fingers brushing against her cheek with a gentleness that contrasted the raw power he had just displayed. “You are mine little knight.” He spoke to her softly, staring into her eyes with his piercing golden gaze.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart hammering as he leaned in. And then he kissed her. It was a kiss that stole the breath from her lungs, that partially sealed the bond between them with a force more powerful than any words. The court watched in stunned silence as the Dragon King claimed his mate before their very eyes.

When he pulled back, he whispered, “Come with me.”

Y/N glanced once at the court she had served, the kingdom that had cast her aside. And then she took Yoongi’s hand. As the dragons left the castle, Y/N at their king’s side, she knew one thing for certain:

She had never been more free.

[kaeyas-beloved]

turn the clock back

Character: Zhongli

— he should know by now that no one is exactly the same after death

CWs: ANGST, hurt/no comfort, gn!reader (no pronouns), reincarnation au, death (reader), mentions of war and corpses

don't care that this is late again (i do), school kicked my rump its just the norm now || val's no sympathy novemeber masterlist

"Tea?"

That was the first thing you ever said to him. Mundane, such was the way of humans, but Morax still remembers thinking it was an odd way to start a conversation regardless, especially when he’s the lord of the land and a stranger to you. Were you not fearful? You should’ve been. The world wasn't the kindest at the moment, yet he watched you don the calmest expression amidst the war-torn chaos around you.

Even as the sky was clouded grey, and all he could see was the fallen in his mind’s eye, Morax thought that perhaps one cup couldn’t hurt. He did love a good tea. And you were merely mortal, what harm could you do?

He recalls many other things that fateful day, every last detail committed to memory, never to be dulled or forgotten: the sweet smell of tea mixed with harsh smoke; the colour of the teapot placed in the center of the table; how uncomfortable the seat was when he first sat down, only to slowly find the right position to sit in; the freshness of the fruit you had laid out for yourself. It brought a sense of normalcy he'd been lacking for some time now.

Despite this pleasant encounter with you, and the one other chance passing as you foraged from berries one evening, he didn’t feel strongly when you died - a wrong place wrong time situation that caused you to get caught in the crossfire of this war between gods. He did not shed tears, seeing a corpse wasn’t anything new given the trying times, but he did feel a small pang in his chest. A life was still a life.

It took many years before the Archon thought about you again, though unwillingly. The mind does wonders in connecting memories and sights, sounds or tastes to one another in a heartbeat, a phenomenal thing that led his feet to walk through the streets of a village by the seaside. There, he found it, and you.

He heard you mutter his title as he approached, watching with cool, sharp eyes as you righted your form and subtly smoothed out your attire. "My Lord, what brings you to my stand today?" inadequate stand you wanted to say, but kept it to yourself. Surely, among the many other establishments that sold tea, there would be one of a finer quality than yours? One that was fit for his palate and status, at least.

It didn’t help that along with his aura of power, he was quite attractive too. The term ‘sculpted by the gods’ being incarnated right before your eyes - it was intimidating. It didn't help that his eyes seemed to pierce your very soul, foretelling that he was thinking long and hard about something, perhaps appraising your display.

But, just as you threatened to crumble from having a god - the god of your home - stand before you, his timbre voice inquires, "which blend would you recommend?"

- - -

From that day on, Morax made it part of his routine to stop in front of your stand. Sometimes he'd buy some tea, other times he'd simply chat with you, usually about tea, but as time moved on, other topics arose - the weather, Liyue's current peace, the economy, things about yourself, things about him… then finally, the question "would you join me for dinner?". That last one had caught you off guard, but you'd never forget how the light of the golden sunset painted his skin and reflected in his eyes. It seemed almost perfect, a storybook level of too good to be true. There had to be a catch, some fine print in this agreement.

Yet when you asked about it, as if you were in some sort of trouble, the male had merely chuckled, elusively replying that you intrigued him. So, with no reason to deny him, you accepted.

This kickstarted the beginning of a real relationship between you two. A lot more was learnt about one another during that first dinner, and your interactions in front of your stand didn't cease either. The God of Geo was no fool, he knew he was slowly falling in love with you, and in many ways that excited and terrified him. However, when he did finally work up the courage to confess (this was after many more dinners and assuring himself there was no way you didn't feel the same) he was hit with the reality that everything isn't so simple.

You spoke of an opportunity to travel to Inazuma, one that you couldn't pass up for many reasons. You'd be able to learn new, foreign techniques, expand your business while also getting the chance to sample the teas the nation had to offer. Who was Morax to hinder you? He may be your God, but he’s now your partner first and foremost, and he’d support you through it all. So, he saw you off with a kiss and embrace on the day of your departure, murmurs of sending one another letters over the course of your trip being exchanged between you both. You weren't due to be gone for very long anyway, two months would be nothing to you both.

If only he’d known you’d never make it to the nation of eternity.

Three nights after you left, Morax had gotten word that the boat you were stationed on hit turbulent weather, and all that was aboard perished. Not a single crewmember, cargo or, most importantly, you had made it. All was lost.

Looking back on it now, it could have been Celestia itself telling him to refrain from getting involved with you. A harsh reminder that Gods and humans shouldn't mingle and intertwine like you both had. From the start, tragedy was destined, you've died twice now younger than you should've. Perhaps Celestia was trying to rip the bandaid off before it hurt too much, at the point of no return.

And yet, this cycle of finding you, falling in love, spending time together and then losing you goes on for years. The image of you popping up in the universe every couple of centuries, somehow always different than the last. A medic, a farmer, a simple commoner, a hundred years later, four hundred years after, again and again, Zhongli meets you. Somewhere along the way though, “you” becomes this skewed idea, a blurred image like a drawing in the sand that’s been washed away by the tide. The things he adored about you weren’t always present in your next life, your personality would vary, and you didn't always talk the same either. You even rejected his advances in one lifetime.

It's like he was being teased - tormented - with the image of his love. A shell or vessel parading around using your face, a ghost meant to haunt him.

Finally, the year comes when he steps down as Archon, and it just so happens to be the same year he’s both blessed and cursed to cross paths with you again. He notes that you’re a travelling merchant, the dream to visit each nation at least once at the forefront of your mind.

And Zhongli still hasn't learned his lesson, sticking close to your side. He offered to show you around Liuye, tell you trade secrets about goods, how the locals work - just anything to keep you close.

When the pieces fell into place for him though, it had him pause and reevaluate everything. Everything he's thought and done and chased over the years, it all came to a crashing halt.

He sees you smiling with Childe one evening. You mentioned meeting someone from the nation of cryo for dinner, someone who was all too happy to talk about his homeland. You even joked that he'd be the new Zhongli when you get to Snehznaya, a sentence you didn't know caused the ex-archon's heart to ache just a little.

It was clear you were happy, laughing joyously at some joke the other man said. Oh, how beautiful the sound was, one he could listen to endlessly, but it's not him making you laugh this time.

He watches for some time, the tea on the table and storyteller long forgotten. Maybe this was the world telling him yet again to let you go, that you are no longer the one he fell in love with a millennia ago. A dream so hazed it might as well be a fabrication of his mind. If only he could go back to when you were his...

Perhaps he can still thank the stars for letting you befriend the eleventh harbinger; you may not be his in this life, but at least he could still watch over you from afar with the little time you had together.

So as you laugh yet again with the young ginger at the neighbouring teahouse, Zhongli forced himself to turn his gaze back to his own tea, a blend you had shown him so many moons ago, a quiet musing sighed under his breath for only him to hear, the final vow to separate you from him in the way he's only known you as, "out of every speak of gold this land holds, you will be the one that shines brightest in my eyes. In this life, and for those that have yet to come my dear, but it would be far too cruel to cage something that shines so brightly."

Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @x-zho // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx

+

@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood // @kochothehoe // @ii-lily2 // @esuz // @cindywasneverhere // @kaeyastittysucker // @dilucsleftshoelace