#this is my ship and I will paint the sails whatever color I want and drown when it goes down okay

[lagncx]

past lovers

black beauty- Lana del rey

  You pulled Astarion behind the home near the docks “y/n…I have to get back home” he whined as you kissed his neck hand caressing his side as he melted into you knees weakening “I barely see you with my training just let us enjoy this” you chuckled when he gasped when you bit his neck “stop it. It’s reckless to do this” Astarion whispered 

  You and him have been dating for years and you proposed to him only for him to say no. Not because he didn’t want to but because he knew you’d be sent off for your work to waterdeep. But when you got back he promised you a yes. You pulled away “fine fine I’ll back off.” You grabbed his hand walking with him through the streets. 

  “So how is it? Working with the fist? Everything you hoped it’d be?” Astarion asked you his eyes watching ships leave the docks. “It’s…a lot, hells I’m not even sure what I’m doing half of the time. It’s always here, investigate that! But I’m never allowed to really help.” You sighed and Astarion gripped your hand with a gentle squeeze “it’ll be fine my love, your just new so maybe they’ll give you some freedom after you come home from waterdeep.” You both grew silent tension in the air. “Astarion..” He turned to you “My dear?” You cringed; he always was using such corny names. “When I Sail off, will you still wait for me? Will you still have me, and hopefully let me have you, as my husband.” You looked down, spit welling up in your mouth before swallowing it. You felt a hand on your cheek lowering to your chin the warmth comforting you as you looked at your lover, his hair dark brown and slicked back “I will always be waiting for you my love. No matter what. Oh but don’t expect me to not have a little fun.” You frowned a small pout protruding but he just laughed “I’m joking my sweet.” He kissed your cheek turning towards his home. “Well, it’s time I go home. Do not stay up late in these streets my love, okay?” He turned back to you and you nodded “Whatever lurks In the dark fears me, my star.” You bowed kissing his hand “goodnight..” He whispered 

——

  Your stomach turned boarding the ship that would take you and your classmates to waterdeep and Astarion was there to send you off. You stole another kiss from him, one filled with promise and love and fear…of him leaving you but it was returned with love and promise and comfort, he would be yours forever. He rubbed your cheek cold gem from his wedding ring rubbing against your cheek as he backed away going back to the street and his mother and father waved at you. You started to tear up. “I promise to visit as soon as I come home!” You cried as they disappeared into the crowd. A new journey awaits.

  Centuries later—-

   Your hands shook as you grabbed the door handle seeing the ring reflect the suns light, your armor pulled off of you and your hair once short, covering your face and eyes now. You used to have your natural hair but now your color is jet black. You pushed open the door. “Mr and Mrs annucin?!” You looked around the house and turning the corner a man and women peaked out from behind they’re faces filled with joy “Oh y/n” Astarions father held his arms out. And you rushed to him hugging him tightly “oh my daughter has returned.” Astarions mother sobbed as she ran her hands over your face “oh it’s great to see you both, both of you so beautiful as always!” You laughed but you cleared your throat “Is…” They frowned and rubbed your arms “He’s been missing for so long…” you tilted your head laughing “your joking.” You frowned when they looked at you “My dear,-“ you got up feeling like you were going to throw up. Not today, not when you got back?! And nobody wrote to you?! Told you?! What the fuck?!!?  “no! No! I won’t hear it.” You sobbed walking down the hall, hands on your head “Not him.” 

  His parents followed you pleading you to listen but you stopped when you looked up at the wall leading to the stairs it was a painting of your lover “..Astarion..” you whispered before falling to your knees throat tightening and you sobbed into the red carpet flooring snot spilling from your nose, spit covering your mouth. His parents fell at your side, shushing you, whispering to you holding your head as you stared up at Astarions painting praying to the gods pleading for them to bring him back. 

——-after the cult has risen in act 3——

  You roamed the streets uneventfully; many passing citizens and refugees. You earlier had walked in on a small child who lost their parents so you decided to watch out for the refugees feeding them and giving them any valuables you had. Right now you were next to the szarr neighborhood. Your spine had a small chill while looking up at the gothic building. Your ears twitched when you heard the sound of screams and yells “Unhand Me! I won’t go back!” Your ears started to ring the voice piercing memories training had made you suppress. You turned and saw someone unfamiliar being pulled away towards the palace and you felt your heart pull you towards the conflict but that voice that voice that face. It wasn’t him, but would it hurt to help? Nah. 

 You rushed over slowly emerging from the shadows “Excuse me? What seems to be the problem?” The three stopped. The white haired man froze and a long haired blonde stepped up “Sorry to disturb you but this is a family matter.”     The man smiled at you his eyes a blood red, looking over to the white haired man his eyes wide looking at you your heart burned when you saw his hands that were pulling the shirt of the other man clawing to get him off, his ring…a jade ring, you wanted it green to match his eyes but now…now his eyes were red but he was still beautiful. Did he know it was you? Of course not, he couldn’t have. Your hair was jet black your scars ruined your once perfect complexion runes and lines carved into your lips. You weren’t beautiful, not like him- “My love?” He whispered “Shut up!” The blonde man said “Sorry ma’am you can be on your wa-“ with a crushing sound the man was sent back bumping into the other making them release the pale elf. You stalked forward your aura taking the breath out of them both. “I’ll take care of this man, I’ll smite you, or you can go back to the shadows from whence you came.” You lifted your hand, the heat radiating off of it as a beam erupted from it. You started to chant, readying to throw it down as they scrambled away “this isn’t over!” The light made them shudder as they ran. You huffed shaking your hand dismissing the beam as you turned towards the man pushed against the wall, mumbling apologies. “Y/n I’m so sorry, I should’ve come to look for you but how could I-…I’m a monster, a blood sucking monster and I didn’t want you to. Have to see me like this I was afraid you wouldn’t lov-“ you grabbed his hand gently arm circling around his waist as you pulled him to his feet holding him close before whispering softly as he looked up at you “Are you alright my love? Can you walk?” He almost stopped breathing before nodding “..mhm..” You smiled, keeping an arm around him as you led him away from the neighborhood. “I’ll take you home.” You said but that made him stop “no, my family they don’t need to..” you shook your head “They’ve gone, I made them leave to waterdeep with all this cult stuff going around.” You squeezed his hand comfortingly he smiled then nodded “A bed would be nice. You don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping on the ground.” He laughed.

  You entered the home closing the door behind you both “gods, it’s changed so much but it’s still the same.” He walked in looking at the paintings of his parents “you spruced it up?” He motions to the rack of weapons and herbs. You looked down at the floor “yea..I’m sorry I redecorated I didn’t think I’d-“ you felt his cold hands grab yours “…you took it off?” He frowns? Looking up at you your jade ring missing. You looked at him and smiled. 

-waterdeep-

  You were at training and you were getting your ass beat “Again!” You yelled charging at your opponent as they kept tackling you everything was fine but it started to rain but you kept going the both of you determined to get this move right but when you fell your wing slipped off and you could’ve sworn your finger was deformed with an indent around it from the ring you remember yelling and clawing the ground and you found it you kissed it. And held it close.

——

“Never, it fell off during combat. But I always have it. Just more secure.” You took off your necklace, the jade ring in all its beauty swaying back and forth and Astarion smiled at you. “I waited, you know?” You said Smiling. Astarion frowned for a second but smiled again and said “me too.” You tilted your head but dismissed it. “Do you want to get cleaned?” You said going up the stairs and he followed you “gods Yes! PLEASE!” He huffed you, smiled and took him to the bath, filling it with hot water. “Buttermilk bath?” He smiled and you blinked “Just kidding.” He looked back before undressing you went to help him and he backed away from you “I can do it myself.” You backed off as he glared at you “you can leave. I’ll find you when I’m done.” You fumbled with your hands feet stuck “go.” He scoffed and you did hurrying out but you were scared he’d disappear again. But you calmed yourself down, returning to your stoic form suppressing any emotions, time for dinner you went on auto pilot as you started gathering ingredients from a sack cutting onions, garlic, potatoes, etc. you sat down on the floor and closed your eyes focusing on your soul and your thoughts. It was a while after when down came Astarion wearing some of his old clothes “Whatre you doing down here?” He looked around. You stood up before Coldly saying “nothing” Astarion just blinked “well it doesn’t smell like nothing, smells lovely.” You nodded but just went to stir the food, keeping your distance. Astarion noticed but he didn’t want to spill everything to you, his wife so strong and now so quiet and stoic but yet, stronger always promising to protect him and you haven’t aged a bit. Gods how could he tell you he was faithful and loyal but used his body to get what he wanted…no, what Cazador wanted wasn't his fault. But he promised his body was yours and yours was his. He saw you roll up your sleeves as you started cleaning up the rice and he almost choked up seeing your scars “life has not been kind to you my love.” He whispered and you hummed plainly. Astarion stepped closer “what’s on the stove?” You just shrugged and Astarion huffed, blowing a strand of his hair in the process he just grabbed a spoon and tasted it “mm, well, it’s savory and thick..is that steak? This is delicious.” You just placed the rice to steam and looked at him “curry and rice.” You cracked your knuckles “learned how to make it from a friend who was there for the flaming fist training he came from overseas.” You said Astarion smiled “How was it? The training.” You looked at him almost like you weren’t even seeing he was there and Astarion frowned “Love?” He tilted his head as yours started to slowly turn before you sprung into action standing straight “fine.” You said

——

After eating you got ready for bed and Decided to sleep in the guest room. Astarion laid in his bed looking at all his things still in its place but he felt lonely he missed you, your touch. But he wasn’t ready to let you make love to him like you used to. But he still wanted you…maybe he could be intimate without the…triggering parts

  Walking into the room he cleared his throat and you were already awake sitting on the floor in front of the furnace cross legged and closed eyes. He sat next to you waiting for you to finish. And after a good 30 mins he gave up and rubbed your back. It brought you out of your little bubble and you looked at him “Hey baby.” He brushed your hair back and you blinked tiredly at him “hi…I’m sorry did I wake you?” He blinked “no of course not. You okay?” He asked “I'm just worried about you.” You whispered “you don’t want me to touch you, and now you're so different” he chuckled “look at you, your hair is as dark as a raven.” He kissed your cheek, your eye twitching involuntarily “A raven isn’t that dark” he just sucked his teeth “don’t argue.” You turned to him with your eyes puffy “I- was so scared Astarion. I didn’t know where you were or if you’d wait for me back at waterdeep- I was afraid someone would find you dead! And I-“ he shushed you wiping your tears “I’m here now love. And I’m staying, I'm not going anywhere okay?” He kissed you, again and again and again and again. Till you finally grew brave enough to kiss back you pulled away and looked at Astarion. Embracing him and everything about him. “I love you.” You whispered and he looked at you “I love you more…I waited for centuries.” He kissed you again and this time he wouldn’t let go you moaned when he bit your lip drawing blood and you crawled on top of him kissing his lips then his jaw and down his neck desperately trying to rip off his shirt this was normal this was what you would do just like before but Astarion felt his breathing go faster his heart go faster in a bad way as you exposed his body to you his buttons popping as you kissed down his chest hands squeezing his hips leaving nail marks “wait..” he whispered making you freeze you pulled away his legs still tangled with yours as you held yourself up with your arms on both sides of his head “…I have so much to tell you. And I want you, I want you so bad. I really want to continue but if we do. I’ll hate it, I won’t like it. I need to be ready and I’m not ready.” You nodded 

——

—-

  Astarion had asked you to take him back to his camp saying it was important and well here you were staying far away as he reunited with everyone seeing him get hugs and people rejoicing that he was safe. You sat on a rock looking out at the city that wasn’t somewhere you’d fit in. You should probably leave. You got up and made your way down before someone snatched you by your collar pulling you back “Oi, soldier! You the one who saved our freind?” You coughed rubbing your neck and looked at the tiefling “yes.” You said plainly and she hugged you tightly “Hell, Yes! Thank you. I was so worried but look at you some random helping someone in need, glad to see there’s some good in the city.” She laughed letting you go Astarion staring at her with folded arms and a frown “Karlach you’ll scare her, she isn’t just some random. She’s well-…” He grabbed your hand with your ring on it lifting it and showing Karlach and the others that gathered behind “She’s my-“ 

“Wife?!” Everyone gasped, making Astarion cringe while you waved and said a small “hello.” Everyone gathered around you “You're no vampire. How did you two meet?” You blinked at the white haired girl, which you heard was shadowheart “well we kind of-“ you started before getting interrupted by a githyanki woman who grabbed your hand “hm, rough skin, soft but still textured, scars, battles nonetheless but you, your eyes scream countless victories. My gods, you must be a hidden legend.” She peered into your soul basically before Astarion came in with an “excuse me-“ though it was drowned out by Karlach “I knew Vampires could find love! Oh yes! No wonder Astarion is always wearing that jade ring! I thought it was just for him to show off!!” She laughed “did you pick it out?” You nodded “it was meant to bring out his” 

“Eyes?” Said a man with long hair wearing a robe, a wizard of course…”Names gale, it’s a pleasure.” You look at his hand and hesitantly shook it but you were immediately hit with detect thoughts “Gale! What the hells are you doing?!” Astarion yelled pushing you apart from him “We already have shapeshifters going around and infiltrating our camp and you bring a stranger!” He scoffed “That stranger is my wife, and you’d be wise to stay on her good side if you want to keep your head of course” Astarion looked Gale up and down. “What’s this commotion?” Everyone parted ways for someone, maybe the group leader. “Hey soldier, well, Astarion brought his…past partner to our camp.” Karlach smiled “oh really?” You stepped forward to them as they smiled looking you up and down “well look at you.” You felt safe, warmth from them Astarion was smiling right by your side watching you. “So Astarion, this is your standards?” You tilted your head and Astarion rolled his eyes before explaining “After the grove, we had a party…a tiefling asked for a little night together I said no I have standards.” He chuckled “Tav here witnessed it and couldn’t stop laughing.” He rolled his eyes “Yes, but I can say…I’m not disappointed.” Tav smiled, bowing to you “Monk yes?” Tav smiled and you nodded before bowing back. “Yes, thank you for letting me visit. I should go.” Astarion scoffed, grabbing your hand “what do you mean go? We just reunited and you already want to leave?” You looked at him smiling “It’s bittersweet yes, but…I don’t belong here.” You pushed hair behind his ear. Tav laughed before wrapping an arm around your shoulder    

   “Don’t belong? Everyone belongs here.” 

  “From slaves of the hells” said wyll standing next to Karlach 

  “To faithful followers rejected by their own goddesses” shadowheart nudged The githyanki warrior who just tsked. 

 “And old Druid warriors.” You turned to a white haired woman, jaheria HOLY SHI- 

 “A portable bomb.” Said gale laughing 

  “Blood suckers.” Astarion shrugged standing next to a woman who stared at you with a cunning smile 

“Talking hamsters!” Said a man who pushed a hamster into your face. 

“And people that are just here by fate.” Said Tav looking at you “everyone here is a family and now…you're a part of it. Stay…” Tav put their hand out, Astarion watched you and you looked around before sighing “I’m not so…good with people.” Everyone crossed their arms waiting for your answer “But I am good with a sword. And as long as you need me I’ll be your protector. I promised that to many and I’ve never known defeat.” You smiled, grabbing Tavs hand “welcome.” Everyone gathered around into a big hug.

——

Astarion looked through a bunch of armor “hm, there should be something in here perfect for you.” He hummed “here we are.” You smiled and took the armor from him as you started to put it on “Try to not get hurt okay? I don’t want to watch some random barbarian go haywire on you.” Astarion rolled his eyes, you just nodded grumbling as some hair kept falling over your nose tickling it “Trouble with your ravens nest?” He laughed “Yes, it’s grown on me after years of just…bloodshed but, do you think I should get rid of it. Is the color unfitting for me?” You looked at him and he just walked behind you fingers brushing through it making your head relax into his stomach as he started to push it to one side and pushing it to the other then putting it into a ponytail then a bun he just mumbled to himself but he saw your face when your hair was up, gods you were magnificent. And the world deserves to see you. The face you hide, scars on your left eyelid lips still plump and full even with carved runes and scars in some places. He just couldn’t stop looking at you. He was so in love he forgot how it felt and it scared him. What if he lost you. But look at you. His lover, his forever. “I think I can fix it.” He said as he got back to reality 

… a few hours pass just the two of you near the River “okay dunk your head in the water” you nodded and did so getting up with a gasp the cold water biting your skin as you cringed he just chuckled then used a towel to dry your hair off just a bit then he gave you a mirror and hooked his chin on your shoulder as you lifted it and saw yourself your hair was cut short not a buzz but short Astarion had touched it up a bit giving it a slicked messy look “there.” He smiled at your reflection “Look at you…my Black beauty. Sometimes a new look..a change can mean a new beginning, a new chance at life.” He wrapped his arms around your stomach seeing the uncertainty in your eyes “You're gonna be okay. I’m not going anywhere. We’re both gonna be okay. It’s okay for change to happen even when we can’t control it” he kissed your cheek you nodded

—/

So that’s who you were, Black Beauty. You we’re already a legend in waterdeep one that was overshadowed by other legends but you gave up everything to keep that place safe even your own mortality. Astarion knew something was different but it didn’t matter he loved you. And you were back together. Good.

[thewebcomicsreview]

https://pandorastale.com/

Okay, this one got submitted to me, so lets take a look.

Okay, first things first. This is a pretty solid first page. It immediately establishes our protagonist, an external conflict (”broken rules”) and an internal conflict (”What am I if I’m not obedient”) in three panels and fifteen words. This is a page that makes me want to read more. Good job!

This leads into a scene that we later realize is a few minutes ago, and I like that the first page was “smoky” like that, which made it feel more like an “intro page” than the actual page 1 of the story. If there had been a detailed background this transition would’ve been more jarring but as is it works.

Your getting a lot of mileage out of this art. I like that our unnamed trans catgirl is sitting with her legs crossed in a feminine way, and the way the director is covering the P in the sign in the background. HERE TO HELL!

Anyway, our catgirl escapes in a smokey pod while she has a think, letting us know we’ve “caught up” to the intro. Cool.

She’s found by a group of normal people who awkwardly explain to the black person that slavery is bad, which is an unfortunate blocking decision. Also, I feel like the preceding 16 pages did such a good job explaining the helpers that this exposition is redundant, and it makes Isabelle (who we soon learn is in “the resistance”) look a little dumb, like she joined an anti-slavery network but is only learning about slavery just now. This is kind of nitpicking, I know, but the comic’s been really smooth up until here and this has been the first speed bump I’ve noticed.

Okay, so, our protagonist is technomagically compelled to fall in love with Isabelle, who is also the most anti-slavery member of the group. There’s a lot to unpack there, and me saying that isn’t a criticism. 

Isabelle reveals this is a t4t romance and I’m not sure how I feel about the trans flag being in grayscale there. Like, the whole comic’s in greyscale, so it fits, but also the only way to tell it’s a trans flag is from context because otherwise it’s just kind of stripes.

On the other hand, even ignoring my shit ten-seconds-in-MS-Paint recoloring skillz, busting out the Sin City splash colors makes it really fourth wall breaking, but it’s literally a giant trans flag magically appearing so that ship’s sailed....but also if you ever want to print this book it’d be pain....but also also you could keep the spot colors in the book maybe....I dunno. I’m bouncing back and forth on it.

Anyway, Isabelle names her pet slave Pandora.They go to a doctor and are all “Can catgirls get HRT” and the Doctor’s all “Fuck if I know, let’s ball” and I’m not sure if that’s handwaving away a detail in the service of the main story or setting up Pandora having an allergic reaction that causes anime shenanigans to happen. Either/or in this comic

Pandora offers to be a sex slave and Isabella is like :| and they sleep next to each other in an awkward but happy embrace that feels like this comic could end there and be a complete short story, one that I’d say is pretty good.

There’s another six chapters, and I kind of skimmed them and I’m still a little iffy on the resistance side of the story, but at the least this is a pretty solid opening.

I got to admit, though,...I’m not super fond of the handling of the cops. Not that it’s Objectively Wrong, but I feel like they’re not quite bumbling enough to be comedy foils but they’re too bumbling to be dramatic threats so they’re just kind of there.

My subjective suggestion is think about making the cops even dumber. Having them come in guns ablazing as a serious threat like in the Matrix or whatever doesn’t seem like it’s the tone you’re going for, and you can always have the rich people have Elite Private Security if you need a scary competent villain later.

All-in-all, though, I think this is comic is well-done!

[writernopal]

🦎The Angel's Lyre🦎

A snippet wherein the author is slowly falling in love with describing the majestic Lizardfolk vessel, The Angel's Lyre. She was one of the first ships I ever characterized in the original telling of AASOAF, so as cool as some of the others are, she is very near and dear to my heart and I'm so glad I can FINALLY do her justice in canon. Enjoy this snippet or don't! Do whatever you want! BUT if you are going to read it, I highly recommend reading it to The Flower Garden by Joe Hisaishi. (excuse any mistakes, this is largely unedited 💙)

WC: 946 CW: none

I arrived at the bottom of the stairs that led to the main deck above. From here, the once muffled sounds from down below were now clear and identifiable, as if I’d just raised my head above the water’s surface. The low of hum of men going about their duties acted as a sort of tenor to the bassy sound of the sails flapping in the wind. The groaning of wood and straining of line harmonized with them, ever backed by the choir of the waves, repeating their shh-ah, shh-ah against the keel and hull of this ship and all others who’d cleave them until the end of time. I carefully ascended, skirts clutched in hand to avoid tripping, but nearly lost my footing once I reached the top. Not because of my indulgent imbibing the night before, but because it felt as if I’d just passed the portal to another world. And it was breathtaking.

Every surface was painstakingly carved with motifs depicting the grandeur of The Holtep Empire. The rising of their divine goddess Kava, spear pointed heavenward, and whose features were sharp enough to cut stone. The triumphs of many storied warriors, among them the familiar one of the Son of the Moon, greatsword victoriously aloft as the moon gave way to the shining sun. And of course, their emblem, that of a three-headed Lizardfolk clutching Oepus in its claws. A reminder that they believed themselves to be kings. Gods even. And each work, robed in rich red and gold paints, lustered with an incomparable fire and life in this western sun. 

Her four masts towered overhead like giants, each one handsomely decorated with scale-like engravings, as if strangled by the bodies of giant snakes. And her yards were wide. All proudly hanging white and gold brocaded sails, adorned with moving men in all colors and forms across their widths. Each one worked tirelessly to catch the wind precisely as their crewmates on the deck below instructed. I’d never been to the theater, but the way they moved, with such grace and certainty, evoked images of the elegant dancers I imagined might perform in a place like that. Gliding across the stage with all manner of pomp because they knew they were beautiful…

The decks themselves glistened in the afternoon sun from the sea spray and the ballista seated at her waist and bow glimmered along with it. Their filigree, as rich looking, perhaps more than any others I’d seen, rippled in the golden light as if these armaments might at any moment draw breath, stand upright, and strut alongside me. Ropes and barrels and devices I couldn’t even begin to name, made their home all along the ship, tended to by clusters of men performing their equally mysterious duties. None noted my presence, entranced instead by their vessel’s care and appearance like that of a dedicated potter to the lump of clay that spun on his wheel.

And now, in the calmness of observation, I could appreciate that she was the sort of vessel to have a quarterdeck and a poop deck. The latter term always sounded comical to me, but any trace of how funny-sounding the term was melted away as I looked upon her so directly. Both decks possessed handsomely bowed railings, calling to mind the tender and swelled shape of her instrumental namesake. And indeed, from those parts did sound a song. The rich voices of the men stationed there floated about the decks and air so pleasantly that I wished I could levitate, if only to blanket myself fully in their tune. And somewhere buried in that fortress was the wheel. I couldn’t see it, but I didn’t doubt it was a sight to behold. Perhaps like a crown on the head of a king.

I was not a sailor, but even I knew that calling The Angel’s Lyre ‘a ship’ was a disservice. She was a work of art. A masterpiece. Glorious and graceful and musical and dream-like. I could understand now why men so easily took to believing these masses of timber and nails were living, breathing beings. Why they named them. Why they would dangle themselves from dangerous heights and even be willing to die in service upon their decks. A single, indispensable truth, and one so expertly hidden that, despite always being seen, was rarely perceived. They were the blood to her life and the air to her lungs. And she belonged to them as much as they to her. Each capricious, but loyal. Tempestuous, but resolute. And with the sea stretched so far beneath them both, the sun on the horizon, and the wind to their backs, who in all the world could rightfully fault these men for loving such a dangerous mistress?

AASOAF 3 Taglist: @outpost51 @thelivingdeceased @faelanvance @captain-kraken @illjustpretend @elshells @writeblr-of-my-own @the-mindless @zestymimblo

Join/leave the taglist using this Google Form.

Banner made with license-free images from Unsplash and formatted in Canva.

[irunevenus]

The dragon's gemstone..

Ōtomo no Miyuki, the chief advisor, gathered his servants and announced:

- There is a dragon that carries around its neck a precious stone that shines in five colors. He who succeeds in bringing her to me will gain whatever he desires.

- There is great benevolence in your Majesty's orders. But gems like this aren't easy to find. And how could you remove one from a dragon's neck? - the men asked.

- Servants must carry out their master's orders - replied the Chief Councilor - even at the risk of their own lives. I am not asking for something that cannot be found in Japan. Here there are always dragons rising from the ocean and descending from the mountains. What makes you think it would be so difficult?

- in that case - they said - no matter how difficult this task may be, let's go and look for that precious stone, as you wish.

The chief advisor smiled.

- you have acquired a great reputation for being your master's faithful servants. How could they disobey my orders?

Sons sent in search of the gemstone, stripping his palace of all silk, cotton and copper coins so they could pay for food on the way. And, yet, he promised:

- until you return, we who remain here will refrain from eating meat. But don't return without the stone!

The servants left with his instructions, but complained:

- He told us not to return without the gemstone from the Dragon's neck. Let's just run where our feet take us. What an absurd thing the Chief Counsel asked of us!

The men divided among themselves the amounts their lord had given them. Afterwards, some returned to their homes and others left for places they had wanted to visit for a long time. All bad said Chief Councilor for giving them orders impossible to carry out.

In his house the chief counselor declared:

- I can't ask kaguya-hime to live here without at least preparing the place to receive her.

So he built a magnificent house, with walls lacquered with touches of gold, and the ceiling covered with silk threads of various colors, so that the rooms were splendidly furnished, and paintings on damask fabrics were hung in every alcove. Certain that kaguya-hime would become his bride, he sent his concubines to make preparations for the wedding. And, ignoring his first wife, he spent his days and nights alone.

The councilor waited for his men to return, but the new year arrived without any news. In his impatience, he disguised himself and set out in secret for the Naniwa region, accompanied only by two servants.

Once there, they investigated:

- have you heard about the Chief Counselor's men who set out on a sea voyage to slay a dragon and extract a precious stone from its throat?

- What a strange story! A boatman replied. We don't have boats here to do that kind of work.

"What a responsible answer for a boatman to give someone. Thought the chief advisor. He doesn't know who I am. That's why he talks like that."

He thought about it for a moment and decided:

"I'm good enough with a bow to kill any dragon that comes along. I'll get that stone myself. I won't wait around for those crooks to come home."

And so he boarded a ship and sailed from one inlet to the next, until he reached the distant ocean of Tsukushi.

Suddenly, a terrible wind began, everything went dark and a storm shook the ship back and forth, until it went completely out of its course. The wind pushed the ship towards the middle of the Ocean. The waves lashed the craft, pulling it under, and the thunder almost reached the top of the mast. The counselor exclaimed, bewildered:

- I have never been through such a terrible situation! What will become of me?

The helmsman replied, crying:

- In all the years I've sailed the seas, I've never faced such a terrible storm. If the ship doesn't sink, it will definitely be hit by lightning. And even if we are lucky enough to have our lives spared by the Gods, we will probably be blown away to the South Seas!

The Chief Councilor, hearing this, cried out, between violent gushes of vomit:

When I got on this ship I trusted what you said: that it was as safe as a great mountain. Why are you saying such heartless things now?

- How could I help you? I'm not a god. It's all the fault of your quest for a dragon to slay. That's why the wind is blowing like this, the waves are hitting us, the lightning is falling on our heads! This storm is being generated by a dragon's breath. Say your prayers to the gods, and without delay!

"That's a good suggestion," said the Chief Councilor. - God of helmsmen, hear my words! In my foolishness, I wanted to kill a dragon. But from now on, I will never touch the tip of a hair on one of them.

And he repeated his promise as loud as he could, at least a hundred times, screaming and crying all the time. Gradually, the storm subsided. There were still some rays to be seen and the wind was blowing hard, but the helmsman commented:

- It saw? The storm was a dragon thing. Now the wind is in our favor. It's blowing in the right direction.

But the chief adviser, frightened, did not pay attention to these words.

The wind blew for three or four days, driving them back to dry land. The sailors recognized the coast as that of Akashi in Harima. The chief advisor, however, imagining that they had been taken to the South Seas, heaved a sigh and fell to the ground. The men on the ship communicated with the officers on shore, while the Chief Councilor, unable to get up, lay face down on the ship's hull. The officers spread a mat over a pine stretcher and carried him from the ship. Only then did he realize he wasn't in the South Seas and managed to get to his feet. His appearance was that of a sick man - his belly was puffed out and his eyes were like two lead balls. The officers couldn't contain a smile when they saw it.

The chief councilor ordered the officers to bring him a litter, and so he was carried home, groaning all the way. When he arrived there, the men he had sent after the dragon and who had somehow learned of his return appeared and told him:

- We had no way to get the gemstone from a dragon's neck and that's why we didn't come back to serve you. But now that you have seen how difficult it is to obtain the stone, we return. We are sure that you will not punish us severely.

The chief adviser sat down.

- You did well not to bring the stone. Dragons are lords of storms, and if you had tried, many would have been killed. And if they had captured a dragon, it would have meant my death. I'm glad you didn't! Kaguya-hime was trying to kill us! I will never go to his house again. And you shouldn't wander around there either!

He gave these men what little was left of his fortune. When his first wife heard about it, she was delighted. The roof that had been lined with silk threads for Kaguya-hime had been destroyed by parrots and crows, who used them to line their nests.

Some people asked:

- Didn't the chief advisor set out to find a precious stone in a dragon's neck? No.- said others. -The closest he got to rocks were those lead balls in his eyes.

- Oh - they replied -, that was a leaden stupidity!.

And from then on, people began to refer to the ill-fated adventures as "leady stupidity".

[crescentbunny]

WHAT IF

Garrus is keyed into whatever frequency the ground team used from the SR2, so he finds out Shepard is on Menae because his coms kick on on that long dead channel and “Don’t Stop Me Now” by Queen is suddenly blasting through his helmet speakers with Shepard cursing in the background and James asking what the holy fuck this old music is.

“SHES HERE” He breathes to himself and runs off to find her using the signal.

That’s the real reason he just magically shows up when she’s talking to Corinthus.

[pleasantanathema]

Pray to Me

Pairing: Shinsou x Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Gods!AU, Rough Sex, Too Many Norse Mythology References

Word Count: 8.5k

         The frigid waters were laden with blood and ice, the salty waves licking the bows of long boats as they accosted the shores. The dark waters of the bay looked black against the fresh snow, churning oars sending sprays onto the docks as warriors returned home.

           You stood among the crowds, whips of snow billowing past your reddened cheeks, your arms crossed in protection across your chest. Despite losing the men within your family to raids and battles long ago, you always came to welcome back those who were fortunate enough to receive homecoming. Upon the sails of the ships was the symbol of your earl, dancing proudly against the winds of winter as the men and women beneath them hailed their successes from summer and autumn.

           High upon the prow of the leading ship was a carved figurehead, meticulously crafted in the image of Skoll, the wolf who hunts the moon. The wolf’s jaws were wide and within his wooden tongue was an etching of a crescent moon; the wolf with his prey in his maw was a symbol of Ragnarok, a symbol of the return of chaos. And upon the prow was a man you had never seen before.

          The man was all shades of violet and violence. His hair was the color of crushed mulberries, the long strands pushed back and wet from the sea, so deeply purple that it looked as if you were to touch him, your palms would stain with color. Blood, russet and old, crimson and fresh, was splattered across his cheeks. A warrior’s tattoos stained the expanse of his chest and arms; the thick, blue lines were heavy and sprawling from the wood ash buried within in pale skin. And his eyes, they were purple and bright, painted with black kohl. The dark smears ran down his impressive cheek bones and curled up from his eyes, appearing catlike. The curious orbs resembled the farthest stars that lined night sky.

           You expected murmurs from around the docks, but it was as if the man belonged there, towering over all the rest, hands pulling at the mouth of the wolf within the wood. He was silent power within the snow, lean and muscular, body on display as if the storm did not touch him. You felt drawn to him, like he was looking for you high upon the prow. Your feet moved before you could think. You wanted to be closer, to have those violaceous eyes upon you.

           You moved in front of the crowd, standing by the edge of the water, sand and ice crunching underfoot, but when your eyes darted to find him, he was gone. There was no trace of slick purple hair within the throngs of people. Disappointment settled into your spirit and wearily you traveled home to rest.

           For weeks you dreamt of him, saw shadows of him within the corners of your vision; illusions of a dark cat in your windows, a tawny owl upon barren branches.

            Some nights you dreamed you were sinking into a vast violet sea, trying to swim upwards to break against the surface, to breathe air into your lungs and call to Odin to rescue you. But you were stuck, some unknown force pulling at your ankles and keeping you in a watery, nebulous purgatory just below the surface. You would always give up, allow yourself to float within the celestial unknown of the eerie, mauve waters, allow yourself to feel weightless and accept that you were no longer in control. The undercurrents would push you, bring you into strong, waiting arms, and you would awaken, breathing in and feeling like for a brief moment you were whole.

           No one you asked had seen the purple haired man, save those who returned from raiding in the East. One warrior told you that the man you saw upon the prow of the ship was a land spirit, brought with them from the Balkans after blessing them with the gift of fire and aiding their struggles to survive as the weather turned bleak. Another relayed that the man was a spirit of the Wild Hunt, a straggler from the ghostly procession that attached himself to the fleet and brought the callousness of winter with him. No matter what they believed him to be, they had all seen him, the man with violet hair and violent eyes.

           You knew that the sisters were calling to you from The Well of Fate, whispering the future that they had laid before you. Something about the purple haired man, whether he be man, vestige, or spirit, made you believe that you were fated to meet him again.

           Nearly a full moon cycle passed before your curiosity could take no more. In the dead of night, you wrapped yourself in your cloak, ignoring the shadows and wisps of eyes in the dark as you made your way through the sleeping village.

You found yourself before the Seer, ancient and decrypt, asking for him to translate the gods’ wishes and intentions for your life.

           “What questions do you have of me?” His voice was as rickety as the bones that adorned his hut, rattling from stray winds. He had lived hundreds of years and now dwelled between life and death, an interpreter between gods and man.

           “Wise one, I desire to know the gods’ plans for me. I have dreams.”

           “What dreams have come to you?”

           “I dream I am drowning within the bay, and that a man saves me, but only after I stop fighting the currents.”

           There was a pregnant pause between you. The Seer considered your words. Your thumbs fiddled within your lap, and you felt heavy, like you were under the gaze of more than just the ancient one.

           “A precarious quest awaits you, one that will take you between worlds, to the land of the gods.”

           “But I do not understand. I do not adventure, nor travel. I am only a simple healer. What kind of quest could await me?”

           Below hooded eyes you watched a black tongue escape his mouth, worrying across dry lips as he pondered your words. Only a few times in your life had you visited him, well aware that fate was already the master of all, even the gods, as even they were subject to fate just like any and all other beings.

           “You shall go past where the fence separates us from the place of self-willed beasts, finding refuge in that which is chaotic, anarchic, and wild.”

           “But, Seer, I do not—.”

           “Yes, child, I know you do not understand. But such is the way of prophecy, only to be understood when it has happened, and it is too late to change it.”

           You stood to leave, seeds of fear sprouting within your spirit.

           “But do not forget there is order within the chaos.” His voice crackled like fire, calling out to you as you left his home, forging a path through the snow to your own.

           The foresights of the Seer lingered within your disposition, the cryptic words reverberating through your mind and taking hold in your daily life. You started to fight the currents in your dreams, only to wake gasping for breath after monstrous beings pulled you into the abyss. The warm arms of your illusory savior felt farther away than ever before. The murky glooms in the crevices felt stronger, grimmer, the oppressive eyes of darkness following you from every corner, every winter shade.

           Your hands began to slip as you tended to the wounded, your thoughts becoming absent as you crafted medicine or supper, often burning yourself over fires or forgetting ingredients. You felt lost, abandoned by the gods, but still yet you prayed.

           Winter continued to rage on, with the moon living within the sky at all times of day and bathing the world in a constant dusk during the desolate midwinter. Every night before you made for bed, you trekked behind the village to the isolated temple to the gods. No one was ever there. The summer raids were over, the men safely returned with riches aplenty, which, along with the great harvest, had left many believing that the gods were in good spirits and were bestowing ample blessings upon their dedicated supplicants.

           But you, you felt no love from Asgard, felt no promise of Valhalla waiting for you.

           The temple was hardly a sanctuary at all, just a hut overrun by dormant vines and overgrown with dying grass, with an altar for blood sacrifices tucked away against the back wall. Despite being a devoted village, most saved their prayers for their pilgrimage to the great temple in Uppsala, but you had become desperate. You needed to feel closer to the gods, to find the place beyond the fence that was foretold to you.

           You knelt upon a broken stone, obedient hands upon your knees as you began to pray.

        “Odin, all-father and far-wanderer, may you grant me wisdom, and    courage,

         Thor, grant me your strength, wield your hammer to break the barriers that hold my mind,

         Baldr, the beautiful, beloved by all, please bestow upon me joy and light,

         And Freya, mother of beauty, the völva, help me to discern my fate—.”

           Your prayer faltered as you heard steps crunch upon the grass. But the sound wasn’t of footsteps coming towards you, more like someone shuffling, shifting their weight within the temple.

           You were not alone.

           All your instincts began to fight one another. Your mind wanted to flee, to spring your legs and send you running to safety, but your heart felt like you needed to stay, to speak into the twilight for answers. The conflict led to you staying still and being silent. Your hands fisted upon your thighs, your eyes closing tightly. Whatever was there would go away, whoever was there would leave. Maybe there was nothing there at all, only the spirits playing tricks on you again.

           “And why haven’t you called out for me, little one?”

           The voice sounded like vibrations from within the deepest ocean; deep, unfathomable, and a little wicked.

           He was there, before you, arms across his tattooed chest that was on display under emerald linen and violet head cocked to the side. He was grinning, like a cat would upon discovering new prey. His purple hair was arched into wild plumes, his skin rubbed clean but the kohl still upon his cheeks and around his eyes. He was handsome in the firelight, fiendishly so.

           “Who are you?” Your voice was a whisper, so light and airy it floated away into the darkness.

           “Who am I?” He laughed, leaning against the sacrificial altar, a blatant disrespect for the gods.

           “Who am I…” he repeated it, drawing circles in the dirt with his toe. He shifted his weight back and forth for a moment, eyes closing as he picked up an imaginary rhythm.

           “A creaking bow, a burning flame, tide on the ebb, new ice, a coiled snake…”

           Your breath caught in your throat, fingers twitching in your lap. You recognized the pattern and knew what words came next. It was an old saying your mother used to whisper under her breath, a chant for the old women and those who held superstitions. It was a warning, a rhythmic song to help children remember to stay safe, to avoid perils.

           Your mouth opened before you could stop it, finishing the proverb for him.

           “The sons of a king, an ailing calf, a witch’s flattery. No man should be such a fool as to trust these things. For they are the trickster in disguise.”

            “Aha, so you do know me, girl. Yet after all this time, I’ve never heard you pray to me. Why is that?”

              He crouched down to your level, his startling, devilish eyes gleaming like amethyst. He was too close and you felt yourself leaning away, back arching and neck aching as you tried to pull yourself from his gaze.

             “No one prays to you, trickster god.”

              He merely shrugged, a strong hand reaching for you. Rough fingers found your chin, pulling you closer as his eyes danced across the planes of your face. You began to shake, overwhelmed by being in the presence of perhaps the most dangerous god.

            “And how do you know I am he?” he laughed, thumb running over your lips, “I could be Heimdall, sent by Odin to watch over such a devout and…fascinating little creature.”

           “Because you’re so…” you paused as you looked for the words. You felt like you were drowning within his gaze, falling to the ground even though you hadn’t moved since he appeared.

           He stood quickly, turning on his heel and smirking.

           “Because I’m so what? Handsome? Charming? Surprisingly muscular for a god who uses wits and magic to seduce his subjects?”

            He pouted at your silence, wanting more of a reaction.

          “What if I told you I could be beautiful instead? Would that hex you?”

           This time he didn’t give you an opportunity to respond. Within a haze of smoke, he transformed.

           A languid, sensuous body appeared between the mists. Voluptuous breasts met your eyes, smooth thighs peeking from beneath an exquisite olive dress. Long, violet tresses fell down the woman’s back, curling so perfectly she looked to be unreal. But his eyes stared at you from the feminine face, dark lavender and sinister upon high cheekbones.

          “Hmm,” she sighed, holding her hand out for you to take.

          You took the soft hand outstretched to you, surprised at the strength behind the grip as she pulled you to your feet. The goddess was tall and slender, and she gazed at you while she pondered whatever was on her mind.

          “Still not as beautiful as you…” her voice was melodic as she looked over her own body, swaying within the graceful skin for a moment before catching your gaze and stopping. You stood still, heart pounding in your chest as you gazed at the hermaphrodite before you. Her lashes fluttered as a familiar smirk spread across her features.

          It was as if she was floating when she neared you again, purple hair uncontrollable and suspended within the air. Her tender hands came to your cheeks, pursing your mouth with her thumbs.

         “No…nothing is as beautiful as you, little servant.” Her supple lips overwhelmed your own. You gasped, hands flying to her chest to stop her, only to have your fingers sink into the luscious valley of her breasts. A chuckle fans across your face, more masculine than feminine, and the mixture of the voice had shivers of excitement and pleasure racing down to your toes. You were too shocked, too scared to kiss back, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her lips moved against yours gently, pleadingly, only becoming more active when the delicate hands upon your cheeks converted to thick fingers and rough calluses.

           Before your eyes the god shifted again, returning to the fetching masculine figure that he was before. You could smell him now, taste him, like smoke from smoldering coals and the residue of rain from within a summer’s forest. Your hands were still upon his chest, your fingers brushing against the skin that was on display between the open buttons of his tunic. His kiss was intoxicating, a hum of magic upon his lips as he drank you in.

           “You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He chuckled, licking your lips wantonly before pulling away.

           “Why have you been haunting me?” You demanded between heavy breaths, emboldened by his kiss.

            “Haunting you? No, no. I’ve been watching you. Observing you. You looked so…sinless among the throngs when I sailed in all those weeks ago. I must say I am very pleased by the things I have seen.”

            “And what have you seen?” Your voice snapped; tongue sharp.

            His hands caressed your upper arms, eyes glancing across your body as if he was admiring a pattern within runes that he had seen a thousand times before.

           “You serve…everyone. The gods, the people in this village, you tend to the weak spirited and the broken bodied, you serve everyone but yourself.”

            The god grew quiet, leaning forward to inhale the sweet scent of your hair. His lips pressed to your temple, thumbs stroking your arms through the thin fabric of your clothing. His breath fanned into your hair and you suddenly felt your heart begin to beat more slowly. It was as if his presence alone, his touch, could calm the raging turmoil within your mind.

            “Now, I want you to serve me.”

            “Yes,” you said too quickly, a knee buckling as you prepared to kneel, “of course, anything for a go—.”

           “Shinsou.” His hands held you in place, kept you from bowing to him. He watched as your head tilted and your brow furrowed, obviously wanting to please him. “Shinsou is the name my friends call me, and as shall you.”

          “Shinsou.” You tentatively said the name back to him. Your people knew him as Loki, but to know a more intimate name made tingles of warmth spread across your chest, like he was entrusting knowledge unknown by mortals into you.

           He became violet and beautiful as you said his name, a warm smile decorating his striking face. The safe feeling of your dreams washed over you. These arms, his arms, his hands and his body, were the safety you had been dreaming of that saved you from the tumultuous seas. You stared at him for a moment, hands feeling a heartbeat within his chest. He looked so human, felt so real, yet still an otherworldly air swirled so poignantly around him. Everything inside of you wanted to fall into him, to feel enveloped by his spirit.

        “I’m going to take you away,” he whispered it, hand trailing from your arm to your face, tucking hair behind your ear in a most affectionate way, “you’ll never have to come back here, unless you want to.”

        “Take me away? To Asgard?” Your breath hitched as you said the name of the haven of the gods.

          He laughed, the sound like honey dripping across your soul.

         “No, little one. I am of the giants; don’t you remember the ancient stories? To Jotunheim we will go.”

          Your brow lightened, remembering the words of the Seer. Jotunheim, your brain wracked over the word, letting it roll within your thoughts until it revealed what you were looking for. Útgarðr, you realized, the name of that same place given by your ancestors. It meant the world outside your own, the world of chaotic wilds that surrounded Midgard. The place beyond the fence.

         This Loki—this Shinsou—was indeed fated to you after all. You felt the connection from the moment you saw him sailing in the winter winds, felt it even more profoundly as he held you before him in the temple. For some reason, the trickster god had chosen you, or perhaps he was merely following fate, testing you for all this time to see if you were truly the human girl destined for him. He was a sign of change, his hands wrapped around the prow of the ship that was carved into a symbol of Ragnarok, the end of the cycle of this world. He was proving to be a carrier of the end times, at least the ending of your own mundane life. And just like Ragnarok, you had a feeling that with this end would come a new beginning, that Shinsou was taking you away but leading you to a new life, a new destiny, far beyond what you could ever imagine.

          “Take my hand,” it was a polite command, his words weighty but light enough to promise that you could decline.

            You felt something between his fingers, a quietness, a wickedness you could not quite name. It was like a dull thrum of lightening humming between your skin and his. Billows of smoke weaved between your bodies. Just as quickly as he transformed into a woman, Shinsou had you whisked away, transported so rapidly you felt dizzy. You clung to him, your godly refuge, light flashing as your feet found new purchase upon what felt like a floor.

            For a moment, you thought the room was a mirage. It was unlike anything had ever seen before, so lavishly decorated with lush furs, viridian curtains, polished stone and warm fires. Books lined every wall and the air smelled of perfumes and incense, even a fountain sprung from stones in the far corner. It was truly unearthly, but his arms around you felt like home.

           His head rested upon your shoulder from behind, his palms flattening on your chest to feel your heartbeat as you took in the sights around you.

           “This is…this is your home?” One of your hands gripped a muscular forearm.

            “Mhm, more like a home away from home, a safe haven.”

             He uncurled himself from you, a stout hand pushing at your lower back to urge you to explore. You padded around the room, fingers caressing the spines of books along the walls, finding many in languages unknown to you. Between many of the tomes were vases and trinkets, some glowing with mystic hues, humming with magic well beyond your comprehension.

           “What will you have me do here?” Your breath caught as you turned to find him. He seemed so large and ominous within the space, like was the commander of the room and the only ornament to be admired within the vast collection around you.

          “You haven’t figured it out? My, and I thought you were keener than most mortals.”

            He rolled his shoulders, sighing with content as he removed his tunic, tossing it into the air to only have it dissipate before your eyes in a bright flash of magic. His tattoos seemed darker in the dim light, like the blackest earth pressed into his skin. A serpent trailed down one of his impressive biceps, his other arm decorated in a swirl of runes and etchings of a wolf and a horse, his chest covered with a dark, ethereal depiction of Yggdrasil, the world tree, it’s branches spreading across strong pectorals and its roots weaving between the hard muscles of his stomach.

         “Come,” he motioned to you with his fingers, “come back and touch me.”

          You had no hesitation, coming to his call like a pet would their master. It felt safe to be back in his arms again, to have your fingers running over the indigo lines of art upon his handsome skin. He proudly showed you his arms, eyeing you with great interest as you admired him.

         “Your children,” you mused softly, tracing the pictures so marvelously stretched upon his musculature.

        “Yes,” he laughed softly, “my children. Call me sentimental, if you must.” The enormous snake was no doubt Jormungand, the serpentine dragon that encircled all the oceans, all of Midgard. Then there was Fenrir, the ferocious wolf that was chained away somewhere from all humanity and gods alike, in wait to break his binds and eat the world as the end began again. And then there was Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse that bore the weight of Odin in all of his battles. They were all wild creatures, the offspring of the unfathomably powerful god before you. They were all beasts of anarchy, yet they looked so beautiful upon his skin, so harmless within the ink.

       “Order within the chaos…” you whispered, echoing the words of the Seer.

       “I want you.”

       His powerful voice rumbled from within his chest. It startled you, caused your wandering hands to cease upon his arms and become still before him.

       “Why?” Breathless. You felt breathless.

        “I have traveled every inch of the nine worlds, regarded every corner for fascinations and enthrallments, yet it was in the homeland where I found what I wanted. You are the most beautiful, pliant little create I have ever beheld, and I want you within my bed.”

       “No, you can’t! I’m nothing, no one of importance, you…you can’t.”

        He left you then, smirk adorning his features as he sauntered to his bed, waiting for you to follow. And you did, an unspeakable urge to touch him, to follow him, to feel him, to be overwhelmed by him, drawing you to him like a fox to its den, to its safety.

        “Well, if you don’t want me, my brother Katsuki would give up his fates in order to have such an alluring woman within his sheets.”

       “Katsuki?”

        He paused, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, that playful grin still upon his lips.

         “Thor, if you rather. We all have many names, but I only want mine to come from your tongue. So many nights I waited to hear you pray to me, call out to me within your dreams, but I tired of lingering. So now I will have you say it, scream it, for me, little servant.”

         He pulled you into his lap, hands greedy upon your flesh, pulling at your thighs and sinking between your ribs. He looked untamed upon the bed, hair almost purposely unruly and muscles rolling and ready to hunt what he wanted to take.

         “Do you think you can do that for me? Pray to me? Call out for me like you need me?”

           Thick fingers gripped at your cheeks; violet eyes hazy like storm clouds above the ocean. You were reminded that he was a devious deity, a shapeshifter, a trickster, the one thing that your elders warned you about as a child. A burning flame, tide on the ebb, new ice, a coiled snake, he was all those deceitful things and more. He was the epitome of chaos, yet he had chosen you, desired you, and you knew that deep within your spirit you wanted him as well. He was handsome beyond compare, but his physical splendor was not all that had you holding onto him. Behind those eyes was a promise of release from every woe, a chance to experience pleasure like you had never known before.

         “Yes, Shinsou, whatever you desire.”

          “So devoted to the gods,” he whispered, bringing you flush against his body, “now I’ll make you feel like one.”

          Slowly, he ran his hand downward, finding the intimate, remarkably soaked place between your legs. He could feel your wetness from beneath your wool coverings and a satisfied groan builds within his throat as his lips curl even more sharply, devilishly.

         “So wet for me already,” he chuckles, wrist flicking and sending your clothing away.

         You gasped, feeling the threads peel away from your body by what felt like imaginary hands. Just like his tunic before, your shirt and trousers were gone, whisked away to perhaps another dimension never to be seen again.

        “Look at you,” he boasts, keeping one hand tucked between your slick thighs as the other rakes across your curves, pinching, pulling, teasing at your flushed skin, “not even the goddesses compare to you. Mhm, thank the All Father for breathing life into you, I must thank him for creating such beauty.”

         Your mouth could barely stammer a thanks. You were beguiled, stunned within his lap, your legs stretched over gloriously muscled thighs. You almost felt shameful to be on such display for him, but the hunger in his eyes and the hardening cock underneath told you just how pleased he was to have you.

        A deft finger began to circle your most sensitive spot, making you bite your lip as a groan burned within your throat. He was slow and deliberate with his movements, gaze catching every breath you made, every shift and roll of your body. You felt hot, unbearably so, as his finger toyed with you so languidly.

       His other hand found your breast, cupping it and testing its weight within his giant palm. His thumb grazed your nipple, circling it at the same pace and movement as your clit. He grinned as he watched you slowly come undone, felt your walls and insecurities crumbling away at his touch.

        Shinsou then took your sensitive clit between two fingers, rolling it so perfectly that it sent sparks of pleasure racing across your nerves, surging from your thighs to your toes and back again. He kept going, stroking sensually, purposely, with such expert skill that you felt you could cum just from his slightest touches. Is this what being with a god felt like? Like you were constantly on the edge of euphoria, every touch and stroke like the gift of life within your body?

      Your head tipped back as you moan, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure. He watched with glee as the column of your throat was on display for him. He took a moment to press his hot mouth against your flesh, sucking roughly against the side of your neck like he was taking your pleasure for himself. You could only moan again, the sensations already drowning you in such bliss you were surprised your inner coil of pleasure hadn’t broken for him already. He was an expert in giving pleasure just like he was the art of manipulation and sorcery.

      All too easily he moved you below him on the bed, his impressive body now hovering over your own, mouth still biting at your neck, fingers still circling your nipple and caressing your pussy.

     “Tell me what you want,” it was a soft command against the slick skin of your neck.

       “You,” you breathed in deep, breasts pressing against his tattooed chest with your inhale, “please, more.”

       “More of what? Of this?” he pinched at your nipple, tugging it and twisting it so wantonly that you couldn’t help but to shriek in pleasure for him, “or this?” his two fingers danced along the lips of your pussy, sliding between the wet folds before returning to your aching clit, swirling against it so proficiently that you felt your inner muscles clenching and begging for release.

        “All of it, I want everything.”

       “My, my, you are a greedy little thing.”

        All at once, he ceased his motions, easing the pressure upon your body and leaving you wanting, burning, begging for more. But he is not gone from you. His fingers, coated in your slick, tauntingly trace over your clit once more, so light it’s like the kiss of life just barely brushing over your delicate flesh. You began to writhe in response, needing more friction, needing more of his touch, but he moved his weight upon your body to suppress you. He was teasing, purposely neglecting to give you the stimulation you so desired.

         “Any time you want more, you say my name, little one. Say my name and I can give you everything you desire.”

         “Shinsou, please.”

          He groaned, he himself coming undone at the sound of your voice. He couldn’t even begin to explain how gratifying it was to hear his name come from your lips. He was no fool of a god, he knew no one prayed to him, but he wanted you to pray to him more than anything he had ever desired before. Your songs of praise would fill him in ways a mere mortal could never fathom; your prayers, his name from your mouth, was more intoxicating than any substance Odin had ever created. To have you, a devoted child of the gods, calling his name while he stole your faith away from every other god and claimed it all for himself, fulfilled him beyond measure.

        His touch trailed lowered, finding your puckered pussy pulsing and waiting, ready for him. He entered a single finger, a heavy moan of approval ghosting against your neck as your inner walls contracted around him, pulling him deeper into you.

        “So fucking tight,” he lifted his head, finding your eyes closed and pretty mouth agape, “I can’t wait to have my cock in you.”

          Waves of pleasure rocked over your body as he moved his finger within you, curling it to massage the fleshy walls, quickly finding a sensitive spot to stroke against. His palm pressed against your clit as he buried another finger into you, the two digits working in tandem to spread you, spear you onto his thick fingers, pushing them far into your depths. Every plunge had you gasping, bursts of bliss spreading across your skin like flames.

         His mouth returned to yours as he fingered you, hot and heavy, but his kiss felt controlled, like he was holding back. You reacted quickly, pushing up into him with all your strength, arms circling his neck and pressing him for more. You wanted what he can give, all of it, and you showed him with your actions. Your hands fisted into those vivid purple plumes of hair, tugging as your hips began to match the speed of the hand working within you. You moaned, loud, desperately, your tongue prodding his lips. He graciously accepted your tongue, opening his mouth and wrestling against you. His tongue licked your own, slow and wet, tasting you and groaning at the sweetness.

        “Shinsou,” it was a murmur against his mouth, but he heard it, soaked it up and began to thrust and curl his fingers faster than before. You cried out at the pleasure, mouth falling from his.

         “You like it a little rough, hm? You’re so easy to read, my dear. I am going to make you cum so hard you’ll be begging for all that I have planned for you.”

            His words had your cheeks and ears burning with a blush. He only grinned, choosing to prop himself onto one arm so he could watch you. With every flick of his wrist, every move of his fingers inside of you, he watched your face. He watched how your lips curled, how your jaw clenched. He felt your hands twist in his hair; felt how you would pull on the violet strands in desperation when he touched the perfect spots. His eyes scanned your body as well, watching what made your breasts bounce, your stomach clench, your walls tighten around his fingers. It didn’t take the god long to discover exactly what made you tick.

          He rapidly increased his pace, using his newfound knowledge to make your body feel like it could explode at any moment. He touched you just right, plunged his fingers so perfectly as to keep you on the edge of your euphoria for as long as he could. Truthfully, he could’ve kept you in suspense forever, but Shinsou was not a god known for his patience. He wanted to watch you cum, wanted to see your face when you came around the fingers of perhaps the most reviled deity. One even you wouldn’t dare pray to.

        “You ready?” He called your name, making your eyes flutter open to see him. He saw the lust within your brilliant irises, your dilated pupils, and that sight alone had his cock harder than it ever had been before. He was no longer sure he could keep his composure as he watched you come undone.

        He leaned down closer, close enough to catch your breath within his mouth. He would’ve expected you to kiss him had you not been so far gone, so close to otherworldly release that your lips could no longer form words.

        “Cum for me,” that wicked tone of voice was back, his fingers now slamming into your body, “cum for a god, little mortal.”

         His thumb returned to your clit, showing it no mercy as he rubbed tight, fast circles against it. His words, his fingers, his body, his breath, it was all too much.

        “Sh-Shinsou!”

          You reached a high you had never felt before as you came for him. Your head felt dizzy, like you were back to drowning within your dreams, waves and waves of euphoria crashing over you so roughly you felt like you were sputtering for air amidst the onslaught of pleasure. Your walls clenched and unclenched around his unceasing fingers, your chest tightening, your core exploding, heat blooming from every patch of skin he had dared to touch. You screamed. Over and over, the bliss felt never ending, and he baited you for even more.

       “That’s right, cum all over my fingers, just like that, just how I want you.”

        It felt like he was drawing your orgasm from your body, pulling everything he could from you. His thumb still stroked your clit, fingers still buried deep within your body as you quivered around him. Your thighs clamped around his thick forearm as you finally began to descend from your high, body loosening and sinking into his bed.

         He finally stilled his movements. He merely smirked as he watched your chest heave with breaths as you basked in the afterglow of your pleasure.

         “Good girl,” he cooed. In the haze you realized how much you wanted to hear those words again, recognized how much you wanted to please him. You wanted more of those encouraging words, more of his admiration, wanted to know how much of a good girl you really were. Your spirit suddenly craved even more, despite the world-shattering orgasm still lingering within your muscles, your blood, your soul.

        You felt empty when his fingers left you, but watched in shocked delight as he brought the digits to his awaiting mouth. He sat up before you, sucking at his skin and cleaning your slick from his fingers with a very greedy tongue. He looked wild, uncaged, like the wolf Skoll had finally eaten the moon and brought the world to end.

       “Fuck,” you whispered in awe, scrambling for purchase against his sheets as you propped on your elbows to watch him.

       He quirked a brow as he slid his tongue between his fingers, relishing your slick as if it was the sweetest honey.

       “I’m sorry, did I make the pious girl curse?”

        “I’m not pious!” You countered, feeling flustered, shaking your head and pouting as he only laughed.

         He smirked as he finished cleaning his fingers, crawling up the bed and pulling you into his lap.

         “I dare not argue, not after those delicious sounds you just made for me.”

          Shinsou quelled any words that were forming in your mind with a kiss, his lips tasting of you. You moaned against him, feeling his arms snake around your back and hold you to him. His cock was hard and heavy, now prodding against your still pulsating pussy.

         “Mhm, how will I take you?”

          It was a pondering to himself, but the words still made you tremble. Your nails bit into his shoulders, your nipples hardening as they brushed against the downy hairs of his chest. His strong hands found the flesh of your ass, lifting you to hover over his large, throbbing erection. You held in a breath, waiting, expecting him to take you hard and fast and now, but he merely teased your entrance.

        “This way?”

          The head of his cock began to spread your lips apart, warm and silken and making you drip even more than before. He sat there for a moment, using the strength of his arms to lift and drop you just ever so slightly onto his cock, each little movement making you gasp.

          But then the anchors of his arms were gone, sliding down your thighs as he laid you back on the bed. So easily he moved on top of you again, one hand gripping your thigh, the other slithering up your body to wrap around your tender, kiss bruised throat.

        “Or perhaps like this?”

         He held you against the bed, cock still hard and waiting between your spread thighs, sliding ever so gently against your pussy. His fingers flexed against your throat and he watched how your eyes flashed with want, with need.

          “I could always take you as a woman. You fell so easily into my kiss when I transformed earlier, hm? Would you like that?”

           He could feel your gulp underneath his palm, shaky and deep.

          “No,” he was smirking, plotting. His deft fingers took your hip into his hand and flipped you over, both hands skimming down your body and pulling you up onto your knees. With a stern hand he kept your breasts pressed into the mattress by applying pressure to your shoulder blades, positioning you just how he wanted. You felt even more exposed than before, your pussy open and wanting and waiting, spread before his hungry eyes like a meal ready to be devoured.

          The head of his cock was back at your opening, prodding your lips apart and slowly sinking into you with agonizing slowness. You held your breath, hands fisting into the sheets. He continued to open you more and more, his cock thick and hot. His hand on your hip constrained you securely, keeping you locked into place. The hand on your back did the same, his hold strengthening as he felt you writhe before him.

        “Yes,” he purred, cock easing into you, “this is how I want my little servant.”

          But the rocking of his hips stopped, the head of his cock now barely pressing inside of you. You breathed heavily against the sheets, sweat trickling down the back of your neck in anticipation. Without being able to see him, face him, you could only feel him. You felt his fingertips press deeper into the curve of your ass, as if readying himself, or perhaps attempting to use restraint. The hand on your back was steady, keeping smooth pressure on your skin. His thighs were solid and strong against your own, his breaths even, his cock so fucking hard.

        You cried out in anguish, your aching pussy clenching around the head of his cock.

       “Please, Shinsou!”

       “Pray to me.”

         His tone was nefarious, teasing, almost inhuman in how deeply it reverberated from within that broad chest. You closed your eyes and imagined how the sound must have climbed the dark branches of the world tree upon his skin.

      “Pray to me like you did to the other gods in the temple. I want to hear that pretty voice beg for me to fuck you.”

        That breathless feeling returned. Your heart began to race, mind rolling around too many thoughts at once that couldn’t be comprehended within your lusty haze. You hastily mulled over words within your head.

         “Shinsou…” you began, feeling his fingers begin to mark crescent moons into your flesh, feeling the tip of his cock throb within your core, “wielder of cunning, god of mischief, I beg of you, please bestow upon me great joy and pleasure, take my body as this offering to you, so that I may serve you and grant you the indulges of the flesh—!”

         With your final praises tumbling from your lips, he slammed his cock deep inside of you, stretching and spreading you and making you feel like he had set your body alight with magic. Your body lurched forward, nearly toppling over from the power of his thrust, but his strong hands kept you in place, allowing him to begin a brutal speed. Your ass bounced forcefully against his hips, breasts jostling with every thrust. One of his hands curled around your waist to your lower stomach, and he groaned when he realized he could feel his cock bulge from inside of you. He became heedless then, impaling you with reckless abandon, eager to feel your belly swell from the onslaught of his cock.

        The forcefulness of his fucking left your muscles aching and your lungs breathless. You were now moaning with every plunge of his cock, as with each stroke he lit a fresh burst of pleasure that rippled across your entire body akin to the streams of enchantments you had seen him wield.

         You felt like you were slipping away, having to fight to keep your thoughts alive as he brought you up the mountain of euphoria with just the heavy strokes of his cock.

        “Don’t fight the currents. Let go for me.” He grunted the words between thrusts.

         You allowed ecstasy to fully wash over your body, allowed his hands to guide you, hold you, take you to far beyond what you once thought the limits of pleasure entailed.

          Shinsou moved the hand from your back to your shoulder, using the leverage to pound your body back against his. You could only moan at the feeling, of being so full of his cock, of hearing his groans join the chorus of your own. You clung to the bed with what strength you have left, allowing him to completely take the reins of control and have his way with you.

          With each and every thrust, he pulled you back at different angles, trying you, testing you, watching you, seeing which way he fucks you makes you react the most. He listened for sharp cries and deep moans. He felt for your walls to flutter, your abdominal muscles to tighten, learned your body and fucked you with a chaotic yet controlled force.

         He leaned over your back, hand moving to your neck, pulling your face up from the sheets. This position has him somehow deeper, head of his cock kissing where the curve of your cavern meets your cervix, farther than any had ever gone before. He filled you to the brim, stretched you so wide you felt you could burst, the intense pleasure of it all bringing tears to the corners of your lashes.

         He brought your face closer to his, so that he can kiss your cheek as he fucks you, feel your hair against his chin, watch your breasts bounce so unabashedly from his force.

         “You like this, hm? Serving me? Letting me fuck you like this?”

         “Yes, yes!”

          He squeezed the hand on your stomach, making you moan as you felt the massive cock from inside of you press against your belly.

        “You like being so full of my cock? No mortal could ever fuck you like I do!”

        “Yes—fuck—you feel so, so good, Shinsou!”

         You could feel sweat on his skin, feel his heart beating like a caged raven within his chest. He felt so human, felt so real, but the euphoria he brought you was transcendental.

        “You’re such a good girl, such a dirty girl, for me, only me.”

         His powerful words were becoming whispers within your hair, vestiges upon your skin. You could only nod, the plowing of his cock into your core now leaving you more breathless than before. You could feel your release nearing, the flames being fanned by every stroke of the head of his cock against your walls, every push of his hand against your belly.

        Your slick was dripping down your thighs, pussy so wet that every time his cock assailed your core your ears were met with the sinful sound of drenched bodies meeting one another in animalistic rut. You were climbing the orgasmic ladder again, aided by the sublime feel of his crushing hands upon your neck, your stomach, his vast chest against your back, rough lips pulling your face into him, and his thick, repetitive cock drumming into you.

      Your mind was on sensory overload, your body uncontrollably bucking against him, begging for another otherworldly release. You could feel your walls clenching around his cock, your body pleading on its own. Pleasure was singing down your body, bringing pure delight and bliss with every pulse, every push of his cock. You were so close, so fucking close, all you needed was for him to allow you to go over the edge. You had submitted to his currents and knew only he could bring the ebb and flow of release.

     You began to chant his name in prayer.

    “Fuck yes, little one, just like that. Oh you’re so good, aren’t you?”

    “Yes, yes,” you choked out, nearly sobbing for relief, “so, so good for you!”

     “Then cum, cum for me!”

      He roared the words against your cheek, his command overwhelming you and sending you spiraling as the waves of euphoria returned, crashing over your body like a tumultuous sea. Your body crumpled underneath his and he held you, the violent tightening of your body sending the god himself over the edge. Hot cum poured inside of you, making you cry out at the magnificent feeling of being completely filled by him. Your snug walls struggled to flutter around the girth of his cock, prolonging your orgasm and making you feel suspended within his arms, gasping for breath and reveling in every dull thump of his cock inside of you.

     He held you for a long moment, hand against your belly, hand around your neck. It was his turn to bask in the afterglow of sex, to feel wholly spent and satisfied with the girl he had handpicked for himself. You were perfect in his arms, hands fisted into his sheets, lips swollen, his seed dripping from where he was still lodged within your depths. You’d let go, allowed him to have you, to take you, and there was no way in the nine fucking realms he was ever letting you go.

     Shinsou kept you within his embrace as he collapsed to the bed, inked chest heaving and Jormungand curling around your back to hold you against him.

    “Mhm, all the scheming I had to do to get you here, in my bed, filled with my cum.”

    “Scheming?” You asked into his chest.

    “What, you didn’t think all those dreams were coincidence, no?”

     You sat up to look at him, all tussled violet hair, kohl on his cheeks smeared, grin upon his lips.

     “And the cats? The owls? All those eyes on you in the dark? All that time spent waiting for you, little one. I even had to whisper my indecent plans to the Seer. Can you imagine that conversation? At least he put it into fun little riddles for you to decipher.”

    “I—I can’t believe you would do all of that, for me. You could’ve just taken me.”

    He snorted at your remark.

     “I did. My hand was forced to interrupt your fucking daily prayer time and beguile you away.”

     You nestled back to him, sinking into his skin, his touch.

     “Well, I am gleefully bewitched.”

      “And to think,” he chuckled, curling a finger under your chin and bringing your eyes to his, “all you had to do was pray to me.”

      You were far too tired for rebuttal, choosing to instead settle with a kiss. He had chosen you. And for that you were filled with adoration, filled with a need to please far greater than you had ever desired to find the veneration of any other god. It was all for him, for a god who had no doubt tricked you into his bed.

__________________________________

This was written for the Citrus Dome writing collab.

[bionerd2point0]

Congratulations on the milestone! 🎉🎉🎉 I'm just going to send a single word your way and see what comes of it... Pirates. 😉

aklsjdskdjf You have NO idea how much I was hoping someone would prompt pirates!! XD I loved the excuse to play in this world some more, and ended up with an entire oneshot haha

Please enjoy!

-

The boat rocks gently with the motion of the waves, a sensation that Jason has long since adapted to. He hasn’t had trouble finding his sea legs since he was a twelve-year-old cabin boy for then-Captain Wayne. There’s a big difference, however, between standing on a rocking deck under a bright sun, and sitting on the floor of a brig with a single dingy window for light.

There’s at least six layers to the grime clinging to his skin now, made all the worse by the dusty pile of straw that serves as his bed, but the water he gets with his meals has to be carefully rationed. He’s not sure how much Drake would care if he became dehydrated, or how long the ship’s stores have to last before they need to pillage another vessel or dock or… whatever Drake does to restock. Jason truly isn’t sure anymore, and while the other man has been a thorn in his side for years, he’s also a bit of an enigma.

No one knows where Drake came from, nor why he carries out seemingly random raids, and Jason’s unwilling stay on his vessel has done little to clear that up. Drake visits him daily to taunt him, bringing plates of bland food and playfully asking questions about Naval movements that he knows Jason won’t answer.

Jason wishes he could say he hates seeing the pirate. Wishes that Drake could be more conventionally cruel, give him something to truly loathe, but the isolation has been having no small effect on his psyche, and after ten days alone Jason craves even the short moments of irksome interaction that Drake gives him.

The long hours alone have done more to wear him down than anything else Drake could have concocted, and he’s not even sure it’s intentional. Drake’s busy, after all, and he’s been very careful to keep his crew’s identities a secret over the years. It makes sense to not let them interact with someone who may be ransomed back to the enemy, assuming Drake doesn’t have something else planned.

Jason fingers the thin lines scratched into the wood by his thigh. It’s still too early in the day to scratch in the next, but he wants something to do. He knows better than to give into the temptation, though. The days pass more quickly when he can look forward to scratching another mark into the floor at sunset.

Distantly, he hears shouts from the deck, words indistinguishable but carrying the distinct tone of stress. Is there a storm gathering on the horizon?

The distant barking of orders carries on for a long while before the stomping of boots descending the stairs makes him sit up straighter. Something is happening, and he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Drake turns the corner and Jason feels a tendril of real alarm curl in his gut. Even if there’s not a storm on the horizon, there’s more than enough dark anger in Drake’s expression to mean trouble. He stalks over to the door of the cell and produces a key, which has Jason scrambling to his feet. All of their interactions have been through the bars in the past, even sliding the meal trays and chamber pot through a small opening. With the way Drake looks… Jason’s not entirely sure he’s not about to die.

The door groans as it opens, rusty hinges protesting. Drake pauses for a moment, taking in Jason’s wary stance and the tension in his shoulders.

Jason’s mobility has been pretty limited thanks to the manacle tethering his wrist to the wall, but he’s kept up with the exercises that he can do around it and was plenty strong before his capture. He can give Drake a real fight if it comes down to it.

“If you value your life… if you have any desire to not be tortured to death in gruesome ways, you will cooperate with me. Clear?” Drake’s tone is cold and serious.

“Why should I trust you?” Jason retorts. Drake’s not outright threatened him before, but there have been plenty of implications and attempts to tease him with ways to ‘improve his stay.’

Drake snorts, a hint of that teasing smirk slipping back on his face. “Don’t trust me, just trust that you’re more valuable to me alive than dead.”

Jason takes a shuddering breath. That… fits the narrative Drake has been building around him. “Fair enough.”

Nodding sharply, Drake produces another key. “Try to fight me, and I’ll have you hogtied, gagged, and thrown in a box with the cargo,” he says mildly, reaching for the heavy metal encasing Jason’s wrist.

Tellingly, Jason doesn’t so much as step towards the door until Drake nudges him towards it.

His legs feel shaky going up the stairs—jogging in place is no match for being able to just walk around throughout the day—but they make it up to the deck without incident. The sun is blinding after spending so long without it, and Jason has to squeeze his eyes shut as spots dance across his vision.

“Keep your head down,” Drake murmurs, grabbing Jason’s arm to pull him across the deck.

Jason tilts his face to the ground and blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision before he’s locked away again. Surreptitious glances from the corner of his eye reveals the crew in their usual mix of terrifying masks and colorful scarves, identities carefully hidden away. They’re rushing about trying to… tie up the sails? Jason blinks, turning his head just a little more to the side to try and figure out why they’d do that.

There’s no dark clouds on the horizon, but there’s a little smudge in the distance that he can’t quite decipher before Drake hisses at him and he looks back down at the deck.

He’s pulled through two sets of doors on the other end of the ship, then Drake drops his arm and turns towards a basin resting on a trunk in… his room.

Jason stills.

He’s in the Captain’s quarters—Drake’s quarters—and there is very definitely something bad going on because why was he brought to Drake’s personal quarters?!

There’s a bed pushed into one corner and a desk in the other with a bookshelf next to it. A few more trunks, some paintings, a small dining table in the middle, and a place where there might have been a decorative sword hanging in the past… it’s honestly decorated quite tastefully, and Jason is left even more confused than before.

“Here.” Drake turns away from the tall trunk revealing a basin of water, some soap, and a stack of linen. “Wash up as best you can and change into those clothes. Hide what you’re wearing under the bed, and be quiet.” Drake glares at him. “If you break anything, it’s not going to be me that kills you.”

That brings up a whole new host of questions, but Jason dutifully bites them back and nods. At least he’ll be able to scrub some of the old sweat off his skin.

“Good.” Drake nods sharply and heads back for the door, pausing just as he’s stepping over the threshold. “Oh, and Captain Todd?”

Jason doesn’t like the devious smile that curls over Drake’s lips.

“If anyone asks, you’re my lover.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33807820

[atiny-doodles]

one

HALA

genre: fantasy, romance, alt. universe

warnings: drinking

disclaimer: pirate!ateez x siren!reader, mc is already given a name, female mc

series masterlist

-

“Cheers for defeating the Kraken!” Captain Hongjoong exclaimed. Raising his glass of whiskey, his crew followed him and erupted in cheers. The noisy pirates were sailing in secluded waters, partying like they would every night they completed a mission. The first mate scoffed and walked away from the obnoxious crowd, leaning onto the side of the deck. He was the only sober one of the crew, and as acting captain he took his job very seriously to look out for danger when the rest of his mates weren't looking after their ship. "Trusty crew mates, more like crusty crew mates." he muttered to himself in spite.

Seonghwa is the first mate of the crew that navigates the well known Hala. The ship stands for their pride and glory. Her name, meaning no matter what comes in their way, whatever obstacles they face, they will always make it to their treasure.

Looking out at sea, the slim tall man took a deep breath and tried to calm down despite the chaotic men that surrounded him. Although Seonghwa was very strong as well as an excellent fighter, his facial features were almost feminine. Tall cheeks paired with a rounded nose and plump lips. But his eyes were the dyed cold blue of Arctic water, so when he would glare at you, you could feel the sharp shards of ice pierce your soul.

As he felt someone wobble next to him on the deck, he bit back the urge to roll his eyes. “What do you want, Wooyoung?” he grumbled.

“Aye, aren’t ya bit grumpy today Seonghwa?” Wooyoung laughed. “Ye should loosen up sometime, cap’n treat us to drinks for a reason!” He leaned over the edge of the ship for support in his drunken state, but even so the sailor continued to take a big desperate swig out of his beer.

Wooyoung was the crew’s potions master. He created medicines and studied healing sorcery on the prestigious islands of Evereta. He could’ve been an elite sorcerer one day, but he ran away from that life. Anyone could’ve seen the elite life of the rich didn’t suit Wooyoung. Although he was very handsome, with his long dark locks parted in the middle and muscular arms glistening with melanin in the moonlight, he was a very loud outspoken fella. The man couldn’t be a gentleman to save his life. He belonged right here, with the rest of the crew.

“No thank you,” Seonghwa replied to Wooyoung. “At least one of us needs to stay clear minded and take care of you dim witted men.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Yada yada, ye were always the more uptight one of the crew Hwa.” Seonghwa furrowed his brows at the mention of his impudent nickname, but decided against saying anything about it. But much to his dismay, Wooyoung leaned closer to him, as if he wanted to tell him something in secret. Seonghwa tried to back away but before he could escape Wooyoung caught his arm.

“The truth is I actually found something.” Wooyoung pulled out an item from his trouser pockets. A circular piece of sea rock, emerald green in color and bumpy in shape. From afar it would look like any other regular sea rock, but close up, Seonghwa could make out that it was shaped like a ring.

“It fits ye slender fingers perfectly!” Wooyoung exclaimed, trying to put it on Seonghwa’ pointer finger.

“Alright, I think it’s time for you to get to bed.” Seonghwa pushed him away, clearly fed up with his antics.

He grabbed the ring from him and pushed the sulky Wooyoung all the way to his sleeping quarters. Dropping his mumbling mess on the bed, Seonghwa turned to leave his ring on the table when one of his books caught his eyes.

Wooyoung’s shelves were normally filled with potions and spell books of sorts, and it was rare he strayed away from reading outside of his magical studies.

But this shiny emerald green book matched the hue of the ring. It shined almost metallically under the candle light. The bumpy hardcover of the book mimicked that of sea rock, similar to the ring, and it was titled Sirens. He noticed Wooyoung bookmarked a page and turned to it. A picture of a mythical creature, half fish and half maiden, adorned the page. It was marked with a wanted poster, a similar picture of the half fish creature on it.

‘Wanted, dead or alive’ it read with a hefty sum of thirty thousand kroogle awarded with it. Seonghwa smirked. Of course, the only reason Wooyoung would read or research anything was if there was some treasure attached to it.

Taking a second look at the ring, he decided to keep it with him instead of leaving it with Wooyoung. Surely he would want to hunt down the owner of the ring, and it would just be a hassle to hunt down a make-believe siren.

Seonghwa walked back outside to be greeted with just the captain. Everything on the dock was cleaned and everyone else probably already went to sleep.

“Hey Seonghwa,” Captain Hongjoong greeted. “Go to sleep, I’m going to man the ship tonight.”

Although he seemed sober, he tripped over a few steps. Seonghwa didn’t miss the slight drowsiness in his eyes either. Running up to him, Seonghwa grabbed his captain’s arms to stop him.

“Hongjoong, just dock the ship. We can continue sailing tomorrow.” he said.

The captain nodded. “Yes. I think it’s good we rest tonight as well. There’s an island a couple miles south from here. I’ll dock there tonight and we can resupply tomorrow.”

Seonghwa smiled. Even in his high state, Hongjoong was still thinking like a Captain. At times he was the tough Captain Hongjoong of the Hala crew and at moments like this he took care of his members with the care of a father. Seonghwa and the crew always appreciated that.

After the Captain stopped and headed off to bed for the night, Seonghwa decided to take a well deserved peaceful nighttime stroll on the beach. Seonghwa started to trudge away from the ship. Taking in a deep breath of the fresh sea air, his body started to feel less heavy. Resting on the sand for just a few minutes would be okay, right?

Laying down, he looked up at the stars and the moon. The shiny dots sprinkled the sky blurred a bit by the painted white streaks of clouds, centered with a glistening crescent moon. From the ocean, he heard some distant light humming. Ignoring it, he thought his head was just filling in the silence of the environment. But then the humming turned into a voice.

“Laaaa” a distant woman sang. Sitting up, Seonghwa looked around. But sure enough, he was alone. The voice seemed to get closer and closer, but it was a soothing melody.

Interested, Seonghwa stepped closer to the sound. It was coming from the place where the waves of the sea splashed against some rocks in the distance. Stepping closer to the ocean, he let the water kiss the tips of his boots. Encouraged by the voice getting louder, he let the song fill all of his senses before he let his whole body sink into the water.

Oooh, Come to me my darling

Renounce thy senses stray

I’ll give you all your desires

So come join my ocean hold

With that, the mysterious humming followed, and he let it swallow his senses. He felt like he was in a deep peaceful abyss, and let everything go. He closed his eyes, slowly feeling his conscience slip away to the sea as well. Until he heard someone speak.

“Laila stop!”

Seonghwa snapped his eyes open, only to shut them again due to the stinging water. He thrashed around in the water slowly feeling the air flow out of him. Before falling into unconsciousness, he heard one last thing.

“We don’t have time for this! The princess has…”

[fullmoonremus]

Everdream | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, making out, alluding to smut

Time/Era: The Golden Age

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Y/N and Edmund go on a late-night horse ride to stargaze.

A/N: This is inspired by the song “Everdream” by Epic Soul Factory. (You can listen to it here.)  I really love this song (you should listen to it! It’s an amazing piece!) and I really wanted to write something that hopefully followed the vibe. Please send feedback and maybe a request while you’re at it!

masterlist | read on ao3

Cair Paravel was beautiful at twilight. Bright oranges and reds blended with the cool blue of the night to stain the sky with magnificent colors. The warm and cool tones weaved together to make a deep green barrier between the passing day and incoming night. It was absolutely stunning in Y/N’s eyes, which is why she always made it a point to be outside at this time. She loved to admire how the final rays of the sun reflected off of the white stone walls and how the warm evening air grew crisp. Everything and everyone around her starts to grow calm and time seems to pass differently. 

Her favorite place to soak in the atmosphere was a stone wall just right of a large garden. Here, she could look out at the water and watch the sun disappear behind the towering trees. Here, she can watch the colors dance upon the sails of massive ships like projectors and feel the brisk air flow around her. Sure the stone was bumpy, jagged, and sharp in some places and she had ripped many of her gowns because of it, but this was her spot. And her spot was where she liked to be. 

Sometimes, one of the royal family would join her in her silence. Lucy would come when she was feeling happy; she loved Y/N’s company and liked to admire the sky. Occasionally, she would break the silence to point out a star that was just starting to appear, or a rabbit that was rushing by. Overall, she was a bottle of warm and inviting energy. She was always welcome with Y/N on her wall. Susan would come whenever she wanted to talk. She knew Y/N would listen. Her brothers and younger sister tended to interrupt her before she could fully explain herself, so Y/N’s continued silence was like a breath of fresh air. Peter would come whenever he had a stressful day, or whenever he knew a tough time was to come. He would just sit next to Y/N on the wall as if he was meditating. If he wanted to talk, he could but if he didn’t, he wasn’t pushed to. Y/N was nice company and the silence was always comforting right before bed. Edmund would come whenever he wanted to, which was more often than his siblings. He and Y/N had been an item for almost three years, so it sort of counted as a date. The two knew that they didn’t need anything flashy; just being together was more than enough. He always waited a little while, though, to make sure his siblings weren’t planning on joining his girl on the wall. Edmund knew that if they were there, they needed her and who was he to come in between that? Sometimes, Y/N would be alone with her thoughts. 

Edmund sat silently next to her, looking out over the water. He had rid himself of his armor and crown, so his loose clothes and messy hair swayed in the breeze. His feet dangled freely, while her’s were crossed at the ankles. 

“There’s going to be a full moon tonight,” Y/N’s voice was soft as she glanced over at Edmund. The shadows on his face shifted as he met her gaze. Y/N observed it. It seemed to contour his jaw, making his features look sharp and as if he was sculpted from marble. Ed always looked great at twilight, Y/N thought. 

“Yeah?” He leaned back ever so slightly, his weight being supported by either hand gripping the wall. “That means it’ll be bright enough to see without a torch.” 

“I was thinking maybe we could go for a ride,” Y/N turned her attention to a large Naval ship floating directly in the middle of the bay. “Unless you need to rest for tomorrow. Big meeting right? We can just go to bed instead.”

“The meeting isn’t really important, and besides, Pete does most of the work anyway.” 

Ed had grown extremely nonchalant about meetings since the four had landed in Narnia. When he was younger, he used to stress about it for days beforehand. I guess when you sit through so many meetings about the same thing, the anxiety turns into familiarity. 

“Whatever you say, oh magnificent one.” Y/N pushes herself off of the wall flattens her skirt out. “Oh wait, my bad, that’s Peter.”

Edmund frowns, “I can be magnificent too, love.” He follows her off of the wall and takes her hand in his. 

~

The forest was quiet at this time of night so the sound of hooves on the dry dirt was easy to hear. Y/N trailed Edmund, staring at his back. The thin material of his renaissance Romeo style shirt allowed his shoulder blades and back muscles to be on full display. They moved every time he pulled on the rein. At one point during the ride, he turned around and caught Y/N admiring him. His smile became cocky once he saw the look in her eye. 

“I can practically feel your eyes burning a hole in my back, Y/N.” He laughs, twisting his body back to face the front. 

“Well, where else am I supposed to look? I don’t know where we’re going!!” Y/N’s voice came out as more of a whine than a defense, making Edmund laugh. 

“Well, lucky for you, we’re almost there.” 

Edmund leads Y/N into a small clearing and swings his leg over his horse. The circle was made up of around ten trees and a plush carpet of grass. It wasn’t much, but it had the most gorgeous view of millions of stars above. The stars were twinkling and a few planets were visible. Y/N stared upwards, trying to absorb all of the beauty. 

“Tada, I found this last week when I was riding and I thought of you.” Edmund planted himself on the ground, leaning against a tree. “I thought we could stargaze and talk. We haven’t been able to talk a lot lately.”

Y/N slid into his open arms and laid a hand on his chest. “I know, it’s not your fault your busy. It’s no one’s fault. You’re king.” She feels him sigh underneath her. 

“I know, I know, it still makes me feel guilty though. I feel as though I haven’t been able to put as much time into our relationship as I should.” He takes a strand of Y/N’s hair between his fingers and tucks it behind her ear. His hand gently runs along her cheek before sliding down her arm.

“I’m happy if you’re happy, Ed.” Y/N places a quick peck on his cheek and looks back up at the sky. 

The sky looked as though someone dumped glitter on a black piece of construction paper. Intricate designs and swirls littered the atmosphere as if it was a painting. It was complicated and organized, yet messy and chaotic. Edmund’s fingertips lightly brush up and down Y/N’s arms making her skin erupt with goosebumps. Y/N squirms under his touch.

“What’s wrong?” Edmund asks, moving his hand down to squeeze Y/N’s hip and pull her onto his lap. In the process, Y/N’s long skirt moves up her leg.

“Nothings wrong, darling.” Y/N mumbles staring at a tree to her right. She knew what her love was about to do, just not how he was going to do it. Edmund kisses her jaw and down to her neck. His cold nose brushes against her pulse point making her instinctively shut her eyes. He takes her waist in both hands and positions her body so she’s straddling his long legs. She could feel the rough fabric of his trousers and fought the urge to move against it. Her dress bunches around her waist, draping against his hips.

“Ed, what are you doing?” Her voice was shaking as he continued to kiss and suck at her neck. Edmund’s hands find her waist once more and he begins massaging them over the thin material of her summer dress. His teeth scrape ever so slightly over the soft skin of her neck and she gasps. 

Edmund moves off of her skin and brings his mouth to her ear. He’s so close that she can feel his hot breath fan over her ear. “I’m putting time into our relationship that I’ve been missing lately.” Edmund’s voice is husky and low, coming out as a deep growl. 

Y/N’s head dips down and she presses her lips to his. They taste vaguely of devils food cake, the dessert they had for dinner. It was intoxicating; her head began to get light and she felt like she was getting high off of Edmund. Her hands find their way to his face, one brushing past his cheek to grip the back of his hair. She admired the way it feels in her hand. Edmund’s hair was always so soft, Y/N didn’t know how he did it. His dark locks flow in between her fingers like water, twisting and turning in every which way and falling in loose curls. She grips a handful of hair near the nape of his neck and pulled. Hard. 

The sound Edmund let out was sinful; it came from somewhere deep in his throat and Y/N had only heard it a few times before. She loved that sound almost as much as she loved Edmund. He began to kiss her more harshly now, his hands starting to move her hips back and forth against him. Y/N let out a whimper and pulled away from the kiss. 

“You have a meeting tomorrow, my king.” Y/N said, breathless with swollen lips. His eyes darkened and his jaw clenched. 

“Fuck meetings.”

~ 

The two love birds eventually made it back to the castle, nodding at a guard and dropping their horses off at the stables. They brought the duvet up to their chins and settled down for the night. 

“Maybe I’ll skip tomorrow and lay in bed with you all day. We can talk about what’s happening in that pretty little head of yours. You can tell me about what you thought of when looking at the water.”

“I don’t know, Susan might scold me if I miss again. I’m not sure how she got the title of gentle.”

Edmund groaned. “I’ll talk to her, please? I miss you.” “Whatever you say, lover boy. But don’t think I won’t throw you under the bus.” 

“Deal, my siblings don’t scare me.”

“I feel like they should, they’re quite good in battle.”

Edmund put a hand over his heart. “Excuse me? Who’s the one who fights with two swords?”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you, I’m sleeping.”

[the-river-person]

Epilogue

Wind swept through the red grass like a wave upon the sea, sending ripples down the slopes of the endless hills. In the lowest valleys the grass vanished into a soft white fog, making the hilltops seem as if they were detached from the earth and floating through an ocean of clouds. Sans gazed around in wonder, while also having to shield his eyes a little. Above them the sky was a thousand blending shades of purple, everything from a deep angry bruise to a very soft lilac. At the edge of the Horizon was the sun, and from here it looked a very deep red color, and though it wasn’t terribly bright, he still had to shield his eyes. It seemed that he needed some time for his eyes to properly adjust to seeing the surface in all of its overwhelming brightness after living in the muted and shadowed Underground for all his life. Well for lifetimes on end, really. Mouth open wide, and eye lights nearly pinpricks in shock, Gaster too appeared to be too stunned for words at the sight of this world. Sans knew that his uncle had been around to see the Surface of their own Universe, and judging by Gaster’s reaction, it was nothing at all like this. The River Person had taken them to this place because he said it was still a relatively safe Universe to visit for a little while. Comfortably seated in his ferry boat, the River Person didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere soon, so they’d opted to explore for a bit while staying in sight. Arriving at another Universe was just as bizarre as leaving one had been. It was as if there was a reflective orb in the distance, only when you got closer it wasn’t you that it was reflecting, but a place. And if you got close enough it was as if the reflection warped and twisted itself so that it swallowed you and you were sitting in another Universe as smoothly as if you’d landed your boat at the docks. Actually the ferryboat itself was sitting in the middle of the red grass, and looked perfectly natural there as if it were supposed to sail across the sea of red grass and plants instead of up and down a river. Out in the distance the world got even stranger. To the right, he wasn’t sure what the compass direction was because the red sun appeared to be circling the horizon instead of crossing overhead in an arc, he could see bright glow that spanned the whole edge of the sky in that direction, as if the area was filled with light. And to the left the sky seemed to get darker and darker until the horizon that way was shadowed and still. “Pretty, isn’t it?” “Yes,” he breathed, still trying to take it all in. The next moment he leaped away in shock as he realized the comment had come from someone who had unexpectedly been standing beside him. It was a skeleton, somewhat similar to himself in appearance but not quite. Wearing brown pants that might have been tucked in overalls by the green straps that were sticking out from one side of the waist, a white shirt, and a long brown scarf... the skeleton’s clothing alone made a strong first impression of him. But more interesting than that were the splotch of black ink that coated the bottom right side of his jaw and the enormous paint brush that he carried on his back like a sheathed sword. Over his chest was a belt holding a series of tiny phials with heart shaped stoppers, each phial held a different colored liquid within, and altogether and in order they formed a kind of rainbow pattern. Finally, around his neck and hanging down his back was an incredibly long scarf of some brown fabric. The Skeleton was grinning at him, mischief dancing in his eye sockets, which Sans had only just realized contained some odd shapes. In his left eye, the pupil was shaped like a bright, five pointed, golden star (☆), twinkling merrily as if to say “I’m excited!” to all the world. And in his right eye the pupil took the shape of... and this left Sans feeling more bewildered than anything else, a small purple 7. But even as he watched the pupils changed shape, and again, and again. A spiral (๑), a triangle border with nothing inside (△), a check mark (✓), an eroteme (?), a small crescent moon (☽), a pair of squiggly lines that might have been either water or a double tilde (≈), a silcrow (§), a percontation point (⸮), and a very small umbrella (☂). “Hullo!” said the skeleton. “I’m Ink! Guardian of the Multiverse and Protector of AUs!” Gaster, who had turned around to see what Sans had been reacting to, was examining the newcomer with something akin to professional curiosity. “AUs?” he asked, tilting his skull slightly to the side. “Alternate Universes,” clarified Ink. “And parallel ones. And pretty much any other kind of universe that springs up. So... now that I’ve introduced myself, who are you two?” Other universes, the thought was a little frightening. Sure he’d heard Gaster practically wax poetic on the subject numerous times, and here he was standing in another universe entirely. But it was different hearing someone else talk about them existing, as if they’d seen them with their own eyes. An entire multiverse full of them. And if Ink was truly the Guardian of that Multiverse and every universe inside of it, then he must be a really important person. “I’m Sans-” he started to say, not sure whether there was special protocol for introducing yourself to a Multiverse Guardian, but Ink was already cutting him off, flapping his hand impatiently at them. “No no no. There are way too many Sanses and Gasters floating about. Even I’m a Sans. We like to use... well I guess you’d call them nicknames. They help keep us from getting confused. More confused. Some people use the name of their AU, others ” Somewhat at a loss, Sans turned to look at Gaster, who only shrugged unhelpfully. Well alright then. A nickname huh? His thoughts raced back years and years, decades, centuries, all the way to that very first therapy session with Doctor Whimsol. She’d suggested that he didn’t have to be a Sans if he didn’t feel like one. For a while he’d toyed with various other names, mostly Fonts in the style of Skeleton naming conventions. But he’d never really made anything of it. Perhaps one of the ones he’d liked would do? Something that suited him the way that he was now. He’d changed a great deal since then. There was no way anyone would think of him in formal terms, even now. But he was a bit more serious, even though he tried to stay approachable. He wasn’t suffering from depression and guilt, and he was a lot more active than he had been. So something light-hearted but serious, informal like, with a sense of movement.... It came to him and he grinned suddenly. “Mistral,” he informed the Guardian of the Multiverse. “I’m Mistral.“ Looking intrigued, Ink nodded enthusiastically. “It suits you! A little rough of a font, sort of like brush writing, but with this... um... crystal stuff on your bones, it really works.” Oh yeah, Sans had forgotten about the Kenón still growing on him. It had sped up its growth a bit in the Void, which made sense because they were already connected. Small spikes of silvery-grey crystal were now easily seen growing up from the collar of his shirt and from his sleeves, and tiny lumps were beginning to form under his usual overcoat that betrayed the crystals growing underneath. “I think,” said Gaster suddenly, “That I would like to be known as Majuscule.” Sans stared at him. “You want to be named after Capitalized Letters?” he asked incredulously. It wasn’t a font. Though they weren’t really required to stick to those if they truly didn’t want to. But it was related enough that it was odd that Gaster would want to choose that of all things for a name. The smile the scientist gave him was a smug one. “When I use the Wingdings Sign variant it really doesn’t differentiate between Minuscule and Maguscule symbols like the font does in physical writing. And since I cannot speak it out loud and adjust the volume of my speech, it is as if I am saying everything in capitalized letters, constantly speaking with maximum intensity all the time.” Oh Angel, of course Gaster would choose something that convoluted. Sans groaned and rolled his eyes, surprisingly Ink only looked amused and actually giggled, his eyes flitting between an octothorp followed immediately by an S (#S) , an ecphoneme (!), an on/off symbol, and an asterisk (*). “I’m guessing you guys are new travelers to the Multiverse. That means you’re the ones I was looking for. You see, I felt a Universe die recently, and I went to go protect it from whatever was causing it to be destroyed. But it was dying on its own, of old age. I’ve never seen a Universe do that before, reach its natural ending. Then I found a trail in the Void, the sort of paths the River Folk make when they travel, and I knew that someone must have escaped before everything fell apart. And well... here you are!” Ink smirked and stuck out his tongue in a sort of “blep” way. Somewhere in the back of his head, Sans couldn’t help but notice that the tongue was rainbow hued. But now that he was reminded, he had more important questions. “Did you see anyone else?” He asked. “A ship in the Void? Any survivors? Papyrus? Well, my Papyrus anyway. He’s the Captain of the Royal Guard. And there were a lot of people on the ship before it fell into the Void. Please, if you’ve seen anything...” He trailed off hopefully. Ink’s eyes had suddenly become two ecphonemes (!). “Wait, there are more than just you two?” asked the Guardian excitedly. “It’s pretty rare we get more than a Sans or a Gaster. For some reason the Sanses seem to be inclined to go traveling more than others, though we do get Papyruses and Gasters here and there. But I don’t recall seeing a ship...hmmm.” Then Ink reached back and pulled on his scarf. Upon closer inspection, Sans could see all kinds of writing on it, scribbles and notes. Ink was using the thing as a planner. For a moment Ink squinted down at the scarf, searching through all the notes. They could see his mouth moving as he silently muttered some of the reminders he was reading. At last he looked up. “Nope, sorry. I haven’t seen any ship. But I’ll make a note to keep an eye out for one. I definitely don’t want to miss seeing that. Oh, but I did write down something else. I found this where your universe used to be.” And digging into his pocket, Ink produced something that was difficult to see. It was like a point, but without any width, depth, surface, or length. It flickered strangely and Sans heard Gaster’s intake of breath behind him. “There it is!” said the Scientist as he stepped forward, reaching for the thing. “The last fragment. The final percentage. What bit of me are you hiding in such a small form?” His hand closed around it and he closed his eyes, looking triumphant and relieved. Just as quickly he snapped them back open again in alarm. “Sans!” “What?” “I had three assistants, Sans. Three! Not four! I don’t know who Goner actually is!” * * * The Tem had managed to push the wreckage away from itself, freeing its trapped hind leg. Nobody else was in this part of the Ship, mostly being occupied in repair work or attempts to plan and reorganize. He’d volunteered to come out here and replace the spark plugs in this area because it would make it easier to get away from people for a while. A low creak, like metal under strain, made him turn. It was similar to the sound he’d heard earlier before the ceiling fell. This ship had taken a lot of damage in the crash, it was no wonder it was all falling apart at the seams. There was no one there. Yeah, probably just more infrastructure damage from the crash that needed to be repaired. Turning back brought him face to face with the grey torso of Goner, who was looming over him with his pale whitish-grey eyes. “Your name is Bob, right?” Said Goner in an expressionless tone. It wasn’t really a question exactly. More like a statement with a question tacked onto the end like an afterthought. Suddenly Goner’s expression seemed almost sly, sinister. Perhaps it was just the lighting, but the Tem shrank from the Monster as he leaned forward. “My name is Goner, I have a feeling we’re going to be very good friends.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ink!Sans belongs to @comyet Special Thanks to @msaoa12345 for their continued reblogging, praise, and excitable and positive commentary. Without their support, this story wouldn’t be anywhere near finished.

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 62

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I kicked my feet up and I watched the striper dance before me. I took a long draw on my packed pipe and since Aurum was doing it, I tossed some bills on the striper. Why the fuck not?

She bent down low in front of me in pretty white bottoms. She had pretty blue eyes besides and a frilly matching white top. She danced in front of Aurum and I and he poured me a drink.

I took it from him with grace and sipped on the alcohol slowly, though faster than I might normally.

"No word on your mustached man," he told me. "I've been keeping an ear to the ground about it and I haven't heard a thing. If only you'd seen his weapon, man. Then we'd have something to go off of."

I grunted and nodded. I took a swig of drink.

"Can I get something sugary up here for Neo? Girliest, sugariest drink you have in the house. All the better if it has ice-cream in it."

Neo hit me in the side but smiled. She didn't disagree.

"One fuzzy navel coming right up," Aurum called out to a wait staff member who was passing by on the second floor of his club. The man nodded and took the order. Like all of Aurum's waitstaff the man was good looking. Stand out in a crowd good looking. Almost hunter angel-like good looking.

Aurum owed me. For killing Tyrian. Neither of us said it but mass murderers are bad for business, they brought the wrong kind of attention. He was paying me off with drink and women a little. Or trying to. I was hard to buy off with such trivial things. I wasn't saying I couldn't be bought with it. That seemed like a bit much. And the dancer was beautiful with those baby-blues. She reminded me of my first crush a little.

I was good for his business because I was so dangerous. Keeping me happy was good for his business because I was so dangerous. It was a razor that might cut one of us but for now he was happy and I was happy so why not drink with one another and party while I waited for my information to come in?

I'd already paid for it by murdering some of his enemies and he'd probably tell me about it as soon as he knew something because Cinder Fall was another murderer who wasn't interested in the drug game or playing the game like I was.

"Cloud, I still don't have any news on the others you asked me to watch out for. Cinder Fall or Hazel Rainart."

"Cinder Fall is probably not her real name anyways. Plus she could be working through some other associates. Emerald Sustrai or Mercury Black."

"I'll keep an eye out for them all the same. Did you learn what you needed from Avalanche?"

"I did. The General's project wasn't so secret after all. Hard to keep everyone in on something that large quiet."

"Fair enough." He said without asking me more about the project. He probably didn't care to know the details so long as it didn't affect his business ventures. "Come with me. Try some hyper," he said. He was trying to buy me off with drugs as well. He'd hooked me up with more greens. I'd paid a little but it was discounted.

"I don't know that I should. I already have some psychosis. That's what the weed is for."

"Oh it's not so bad. Just an intense rush."

"Isn't it a pro-psychotic?"

"Maybe a little. I'm not a doctor. Try some, you'll be fine."

I shrugged my shoulders. Fuck it. Why not? What was the worst thing that could happen if I did? I'd become a murderer? That ship had sailed, thanks. I'd become involved in the drug game? A bit late, thank you. An alien goddess would seize control over my mind, again? Maybe. But I couldn't live in fear of Mother all the time.

He cut out a line of the stuff and showed me how to inhale it.

I did. I pulled deeply into my nostrils and up into my sinuses.

I leaned back as the powder filled my nose and dripped down my esophagus a little. It hit my brain fast and hard. Aurum had been right. It was intense.

And it was a rush. I was zooming. My brain strummed like it was endlessly hitting a high wiry note on an electric guitar with an amplifier. Volts coursed through my veins in my skull. My arteries seemed to be full of odd amps. Like I'd been shot in the head by some kind of electric gun.

Bugs wiggled their way around behind my eyes more intensely than ever. I just didn't care as I leaned back into my seat once more.

I swear I could almost hear mother's voice over the din of the music in The Den. But only just. It wasn't bad now that I thought about it. Just a dull whisper. Just some bitch talking to me like she owned me.

What else was new?

My leg was moving restlessly. I felt like I was about to jump out of my skin.

Neo sucked on a long blue bendy straw next to me and on impulse I nearly took it from her hands and threw it across the room. I reigned myself in, though. There was no reason to do that. I just needed to sit back and relax… relax… relax.

My brain seemed stuck in a loop and I repeated that over and over in my head like a mantra. Relax… relax… relax… why wasn't I relaxing?

I drank and smoked some more. I drank like I was thirsty and I smoked like my personal stash wasn't running a bit low before I'd bought some more.

It felt damn good to over indulge and crossfade myself as thoroughly as I could.

"Well you're handling it well," Aurum said. "That was your first time, no?"

"It is. Was. Whatever." My heart beat fast and my leg bounced. "I want to kill something. Is that normal?"

"Depends. For you, probably. You're a killer."

I nodded. That made sense. It was hot in all my clothes so I stripped my armor off and set it beside Neo and I on one of the long couches.

I sat back and watched the dancer before me work as my vision came in and out. Blackening and refocusing.

It beat a steady tide in rhythm with my heart.

"Though there is one man in town who I thought you should know about." Aurum told me. I wasn't sure how he was staying so fucking calm.

"Oh?" I asked.

"Name's Adam Taurus. Old White Fang member. He's another killer. Caused the SDC problems for years."

"Want me to kill him?" My voice was much more calm than I felt. My heart was racing. My head throbbed in time with the music in a pleasant way. My eyes felt like they were going to pop from their sockets.

"Maybe. He's the sort who is also bad for my business. Idealistic. Unwilling to compromise. And he paints the town red wherever he goes."

"I could go for a fight right about now. Not sure it's a good idea. Neo, your thoughts?" She shrugged at me, then she shook her head to the negative. Thank you for that contribution Neo. Enlightening. "We'll probably end up passing. I'll kill him for a favor if you change your mind."

"I just might take you up on that." Aurum took a long swig of his favorite amber drink.

I followed suit and found my glass empty. It was quickly refilled by a gorgeous young redhead with a staff shirt on and long legs.

I stared after her for a long time.

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I came down with a headache. "Neo would you get me a glass of water." I bemoaned from my bed in our shared motel space.

She obliged. Fetching the water, then she poured it right on my face.

"Ack! Neo. Gods damn it." I was awake now if nothing else.

I sat up in the bed. I spat water from my mouth. I stood up and got my own drink of water. Neo could be so unreliable.

"You're such a bitch, Neo." I told her over my throbbing headache. I palmed my forehead and over one of my eyes.

"Why I oughta," I said it like a complete sentence with no real heat.

She blinked at me innocently and her eyes switched colors. She fooled nobody with that.

She had a cigarette in her mouth, the smoke from it was filling our shady apartment.

I wasn't sure which drug that I had partaken in the night before that was killing me. It could have just been alcohol. It could have been hyper. Either way I was thirsty enough that when I downed a glass, I followed it up with two more.

I could scarcely remember the night prior. Other than a soft warm feeling that followed my memories about it. Too much drink. Too much weed. Too much of everything. I probably wasn't going to try hyper again. I crossfaded myself hardcore. I rubbed my eyes firmly.

I looked over at Neo and really took her in for the first time. She wasn't wearing a shirt and was just in her brassiere and a pair of pink panties. I took her milky cleavage in for a moment before I looked down at myself. I was totally naked.

"Did we…?"

She rolled her eyes at me. A smirk on her face as she did. She reached over with her cigarette and put it out on my chest, nice and slow. She grinned at my pain. Her breathing rushed a little as I hissed. The tips of her breasts hardened and I noticed that the burn she left there was not alone. It had company.

"Neo, I'm damn well serious." I tasted my own lips with my tongue a little. It tasted funny. Was that someone else's lipstick or was my mouth just fucked from drinks and hyper? It tasted like lipstick. Neo was wearing pink lipstick.

"Did we or didn't we?" She just turned and began putting the rest of her clothes on. She spun and twisted a curtain into place between our two sections of room and beds as she clothed herself.

"Neo!"

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

She refused to answer me. In any capacity. She just left it as it was which was well within her personality but was more than a little obnoxious from my end. Fuck her.

Sex with a demoness or not, and I was trying hard not to think about that, I still had other business to attend to. Like heading over to Avalanche headquarters.

We rolled up on the bar with Neo's arms wrapped around my waist. She held herself nice and tight to me for the ride. The absolute… I mean honestly...

"Neo you little devil," I said to her, looking forward. Neither of us were wearing helmets. Little point when we were both hunters.

It was on me for getting black out drunk and giving her the opportunity to hold it over me. Forever.

Plus if I really did do it I had a lot to feel guilty about. Wherever little Ruby Rose was she wasn't enjoying another's company like that. She was probably shattered to pieces.

She was probably in a lot of pain over me. I had caused that. I didn't deserve to cause her pain. But I had anyway. It made my chest ache to think about. It made me feel worthless. More worthless, that is.

Guilt rose up in my mouth like bile and it whipped at me like a switch. I didn't much like to think about that. But by all accounts we were broken up. I had no idea when I would even see her again. We were shattered, me and her. So what did it matter if I did have sex with Neo? Evidently it mattered to me. I didn't want it to have happened. I regretted that I didn't know.

It meant that Yang was right about me. One way or another her older sister instincts had been on point. She'd been right to keep me away. For more than one reason, probably. That made me feel like shit.

It also meant disappointing Weiss. I had long wanted her approval for one reason or another. That hadn't exactly changed. Her affectionate dawn smile with her hair down reflected in my mind for a moment before I imagined her looking at me with a cold hard apathy like she had so many times before. And I grimaced at so many memories of asking her out.

Besides, I should feel guilty about what I had done to Ruby. She was probably off saving lives while I was taking them like some common criminal or something. We couldn't be more different. She was an angel and I was a demon.

And I wasn't about to talk to Neo about that. Or have a one way conversation with her, at any rate. As much as you could have a conversation with Neo. About all of this.

I walked up to the bar and opened the door with a jingle of bells. I tried to roll my shoulders and undo a kink in them I'd worked into the muscle the night before.

Jasper was up behind the bar, washing the counter down with a cloth.

"Oh, Cloud… you're back!"

"I promised to train you guys a little. Where's the others?"

"They're out for a minute. There's a big player in town. Adam Taurus. He's causing problems for the union and with the miner leaders like Dyne."

"Dyne?"

"Just Dyne. No last name. He's one of the old miner leaders. Been around since the old days of the White Fang. He was always outspoken about union action over taking up arms. Or at least he used to be. He hates the Schnee name, now. His daughter was injured in a mining accident recently. Bisque is worried about what he and Adam will get up to."

"This is the second time I'm hearing about Taurus."

"He's problems. At least for us. They're working up strikes, which is a good thing. But they also have the potential to get violent. People could get hurt. Bisque is trying to stop things from escalating."

"Yeah but you guys are fairly militant. Shouldn't you be on board with Taurus?"

"We always plan our operations around not killing people. People always die with Taurus on the job. Always. He's got a red streak a mile wide."

"Guess that's why Aurum might want me to kill him. Not willing to play ball. And Wenge?"

"Leading a strike. Avalanche needs to stay involved in all of this if we want to be a player at all. I'm just holding down the fort because somebody needs to be looking after the bar. People might come by and have questions for us about the strike. We have to stay on top of information."

"Need me to kill Taurus?" I asked.

"You think you can pull it off? I know you're good but Taurus is also a badass. He's got some real power," Jasper said.

I thought of Tyrian. He was one of Salem's guard and I'd killed him. He was probably about as dangerous as hunters came. Barring people like Cinder who were also maidens and had some extra kick.

"I might be able to manage it. Difficult to say before I lay into him but it's a possibility. Aurum talked to me about maybe taking him down. I remember that from last night at least."

"What happened last night?" Jasper asked. She leaned forward on one hand which rested with her elbow on the counter.

"Drank too much. That's all. Nothing else happened."

Neo nudged me. I looked way down at her short ass. A calm smirk was on her face looking back up at me. One end of her lips turned up.

Shut up, Neo.

"You up for some training?" I asked.

"I can't." Jasper sighed. "I've got to man the fort. Think you can come by again later? Wenge should be by then too."

I nodded.

"Probably. I'm just waiting for some information to come in. Not much else is going on in my life at the moment. Running favors for my 'friends.' That sort of thing."

The door jingled again. I turned to look. It was the crossbow girl from before.

"Oh. It's you," she said with some derision at me. I could live with that. At least I was being remembered.

"Me." I agreed. Like it was a curse. Which it was in a lot of respects. Boy was it.

"I'm not here to talk to you." She looked away towards Jasper. "I'm here to talk about the strikes. You kicked this off by bombing the mind and shutting work down."

"Maybe we did, as far as Avalanche is concerned the strikes are a good thing."

"Not this close to the elections. It's too much unrest."

"You're just upset because the strike leaders aren't paying homage to Robyn. They don't care about another election cycle where nothing gets done to improve their conditions. Especially when Schnee himself is running."

"This isn't about that. If martial law gets declared it will push elections back."

"I know you're concerned about Hill's chances of winning. Maybe you should be out leading them instead of hiding away or whatever the Happy Huntresses are doing," Jasper told her. Crossing her arms over her chest.

"The Happy Huntresses are always fighting for Mantle."

"Yeah, on your time table. Not on Mantle's. The people want change and they want it now."

"You stirred them up. Your bombing caused this. The people were content to wait!"

"We didn't cause the strikes. You're looking for Dyne and Adam Taurus."

"Adam Taurus?!" Fiona was incredulous.

"Oh you haven't heard? Maybe the Happy Huntresses are out of touch."

"Don't be petulant just because I wouldn't help you with your bombing. Look at what you've done! Now Adam Taurus is involved."

"If you're scared of him-" Jasper began she was cut off.

"Only a fool wouldn't be," Fiona said. "Call off the strikes."

"No can do," Jasper said. "Wouldn't want to even if we could. Take it up with Dyne."

"Dyne is unreachable. He wants revenge against the SDC at all costs. We're hoping Avalanche is more agreeable. You have a network. You can shut this down."

"I told you we want the strikes." Jasper leaned forward into her words. "Live with them. Or don't. Better yet."

"All this because I wouldn't bomb them with you! It was a bad idea. Look at all the unrest it's causing. Ironwood might declare martial law. Who will win then? Not the miners. The military always backs the SDC to break up the strikes. People get hurt every time. Please. This has to stop. Only through elections will real change get affected."

"I disagree. I think we can get real change done by collective action."

"It never works. It'll end with them opening fire on the mob. It always ends that way. Dust mining is too important to stay shut down. The military will back the SDC because they need the dust."

"There's an oversupply with the embargo. There's enough dust to last months. The strike won't last that long anyways. Old man Schnee will have to give in and improve the working conditions."

"He never does. And the negativity too, it's drawing the Grimm."

"So what? That's exactly why they can't open fire on a crowd of protestors." Jasper refuted.

"So what? So what?" Fiona repeated sounding shocked. "So people will die. And what about people who want more than improved conditions? What about the levelers who want wealth and property abolished? You're giving them a platform."

"What if the levelers are right? What if wealth and property should be abolished. Look at the pain it causes."

"It's the foundation of our society with the Grimm at the gates!"

"Cloud, what do you think, are the Grimm that big of a threat? We've got the largest military in the world for a reason."

I had been watching the two with rapt attention as they ran down Mantle politics. To be honest I was learning a lot. Particularly about these levelers. They sounded a lot like the Anti-capitalists of back home in Vale.

"I think the Grimm are always a threat. More than the layman knows," I murmured.

"See, even the murderer agrees. All this negativity can't go on. If you don't shut down the strikes, then the military will."

Fiona turned at the door.

"Please," she begged. "Shut it down."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[iamvegorott]

Salt Of The Sea Ch. 19

Foresight

“Go ahead and prepare the ship, I’m going to visit…a friend of ours,” Dark said to Wilford after stepping out of Celine and Damian’s house. 

“I was hoping you’d visit him,” Wilford said with a chuckle. “Alright, boys, let’s get the crew and find our fish.” Wilford laughed as he lead CJ and RJ away. 

“Don’t call them...whatever.” Dark sighed and started walking the other way. “Good morning, Ms. Applegate.” 

“Morning, dear.” Ms. Applegate gave Dark a bright smile. “How have we been?” 

“I’ve been good.” 

“Oh, Dark, you know you can’t lie to me. You’re troubled, I can tell.” Ms. Applegate went up to Dark and placed a hand on the pendent of his necklace. “You’re seeing him today, right?” 

“Yes. I have some questions.” Dark said. “I don’t really believe but-”

“Again with the lying.” Ms. Applegate giggled. “Make sure you do what’s best for you, Dark, don’t let others get in the way.” 

“Maybe I should be paying you instead of him,” Dark said.

“I make jewelry dear, nothing more.” Ms. Applegate gave Dark’s chest a pat before moving away. 

“I’m sure Celine says the same.” Dark hummed before continuing on. 

“Was there a festival or holiday or something yesterday?” Dark overheard a merchant say. 

“Why are you asking?” Another merchant said. 

“There were fellas walkin’ around covered in paint. Little drawings on ‘em.” 

“That’s strange, maybe we missed something.” Dark waited and watched until the two changed the subject and were now discussing prices. Dark was thankful he didn’t have to step in, he didn’t need to waste any more time. Dark went up to a large, tan-colored tent. A teenage girl was sitting at a little homemade desk, perking up when she saw Dark.

“Perfect timing Dark.” The teenager giggled. “He currently doesn’t have clients in there. But I bet you already knew dad would have that planned.” 

“Thank you, Annalise,” Dark said. “I’ll try to be quick.” 

“Quick? Take your time, why does everyone always want to rush things?” Annalise propped her feet up and started filing her nails. “Nothing wrong with being sure.” 

“Not at all.” Dark slipped into the tent. 

“Hello, Dark.” The greeting came from a man with a blindfold over his eyes, and an almost black coat, three-sizes too large, shrouded his body’s form as he sat at a small circular table. 

“Hello, Host.” Dark greeted back. “I assumed you were expecting me?”

“Your energy is strong and it has grown.” Host’s face was towards a crystal ball, hands resting on it and moving ever so slightly as he spoke. 

“It’s grown?” Dark went to the chair on the other side and sat. 

“Grown or changed.” Host said. “Something new is happening in your life and it’s affected you deeply.” 

“It’s causing me annoyance.” Dark adjusted himself so that he was comfortable, slouching even. 

“Then why keep the change? You’re not one to let a burden stay in your life, not after the ones you’ve already had.” 

“Gold.” 

“Gold?” Host repeated with a chuckle. “If that’s the tale you want to tell.” Host lowered his hands from the ball and crossed them on the table. “Do you wish to go through your usual checklist?” 

“Always to the point, but, yes, how’s Wilford?” 

“His energy has grown as well, similar to how it’s been two times before. Is his new addition part of the burden on you?” 

“Is he happy?”

“His energy is positive.”

“Then it’s not.” Dark chewed on his lip for a moment, hesitating and knowing that Host wouldn’t continue without the question. “How is the other?” 

“He’s alive.” Host said in a flat tone.

“Of course he is.” Dark sighed.

“He’s alive and his energy grows with curiosity and grows near as well.” Host’s hands went back to his crystal ball. “But first you need to deal with a new energy that will be joining you all soon.” 

“Again?” Dark groaned. “Any tell on who or at least what they are?” 

“All I can see is that the energy is similar to the new happenings of your life.” Host’s brows scrunched. “It’s more inclined towards the new happenings. It’ll affect them more than you.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“I can not tell, I’m sorry.”

“Any guess on when?”

“Very soon, very very soon. You need to get to the ship. You need to go now. I am trying to look beyond but it’s fighting back.” 

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Dark stood up and placed his hands over Host’s. “Thank you.” 

“I’m sorry.” Host allowed Dark to move his hands away from the crystal ball. 

“Don’t apologize, you always do more than expected.” 

“You should go. Tell me daughter I need rest.” 

“Of course, I’ll see you again Host and hopefully it won’t be as long of a break and I’ll get to stay longer.” 

“I look forward to your visit.”

“Goodbye.” Dark tapped the top of Host’s hands twice before leaving the tent, waving down Annalise. “Host needs rest.”

“Did you make him push himself again?” Annalise asked, shoulders going tense and looking ready to fight. 

“He’s fine, I promise. I’m just relaying the message.” Dark held his hands up and moved away, hearing Annalise going to the tent and scolding her father. Dark went towards the ship, flashing Ms. Applegate a quick smile as he passed and was soon stopped by an, out of breath, Bim. 

“We gotta...we gotta...the ship…”

“Let’s go then.” Dark took off first. Bim groaned and took a few quick breaths before taking off as well. 

“Dark! There you are!” Wilford called from the top of the ship. “We have an emergency!” 

“Who’s hurt?” Dark asked, boarding the ship with Bim. 

“None of us but-”

“It’s Mad,” Google said, coming out from the navigation room. 

“What about him?” Dark asked, seeing that the others were getting the ship ready to sail. 

“He sent us a message.” Google glanced over his shoulder and saw Bing coming out of the room as well. 

“We need to get there as soon as we can, he says it’s getting worse,” Bing said.

“What’s getting worse?” Dark snapped his fingers to get everyone to look at him. 

“Mad said they found a Siren trapped in one of his fishnets,” Google said.

“Okay? And that affects us because?” 

“He says he looks like one of our Sirens and speaking of them, they already left without us.” 

“They left?” Dark scoffed, ignoring the strange pang in the pit of his stomach at hearing the Sirens having abandoned them. 

“We’re going to follow them, right?”

“I don’t-”

“Aren’t you the one that said you wanted Mad on our side?” Bing’s sudden interruption threw everyone off. “Mad needs help and if we ignore him, he’ll never help us again. He’s the one that gave us this communication and this map, we owe him.” 

“Fine. We’ll go.” Dark pointed at Bing. “And if you speak to me like that again, you’ll be sleeping below deck.”

“Yes, Captain.” Bing saluted before going back inside. 

“As soon as the ship is ready, set sail,” Dark called out his order as he went up to the second floor. 

“Yes, Captain!” The crew called back. 

“A new energy similar to the new happenings…” Dark said to himself as he watched the others below. “I hope they’re at least helpful.”

---------------------------

Tag List: (let me know if you want added)

@takethepainawaybae @shadowkitten0321 @adverseflyer909 @constantgaycrisis @m0th-goo @rainymae523 @rukus-kiss-my-lips-platonically @robot-intestines @phonenix @vociferous-chaos @batsam19 @bapbee @walking-mess25 @voonespelle @madallice329 @grnpurplgrmln @graveyardlettuce @aoimatsurika @nightwillow18 @the-writing-from-space-world @teenwithaphone @hakuna-matata-666-13 @a-star-with-a-human-name

[valhallanrose]

Show Your Fangs

After years of feeling aimless, Astoria finds an unexpected avenue to reassert control. 

You can find the rest of the Cursetaker arc of Astoria’s story here. 

3.9k words. CW for attempted manipulation. 

Title: Show Your Fangs by The Crane Wives

On the eve of their twentieth birthday, Astoria found themself climbing into the rigging of the Moorish Lady, thighs locked firmly around the rope and hair ripping free of its haphazard bun to dance in the breeze that made the sails grow full. The sky was starry overhead, the moon broad and full, and not a cloud blocked their light as they were guided back to Rosinmoor. 

At this vantage, they could see the peaks of Castle Kintyre, the colors of the stained glass windows melting together into hues of rose and gold from the distance they were at now. Idly, they wondered if their family was waiting in the great hall to meet them before they sat down for dinner. 

Castle Kintyre had seemed so big the first time they left. And rationally, they knew that was simple perception - of course it would have seemed literally bigger when they themself had been smaller in stature, but it was somewhat amusing all the same. The Whitethorn Citadel was perhaps the same size, if they had to hazard a guess, but...this had been their world, once. A life behind stone walls, in rolling fields and on rocky cliffs, on stone beaches and crystal lakes - a life that had once seemed utterly satisfying was as peaceful as it was positively boring.

Funny to think how big the world had gotten when they had the opportunity to see it all. 

“...toria!”

They were pulled from their musing when a voice, somewhat swept away by the wind, managed to reach their ears. Astoria shifted their grip on the rope, looking down at the deck to see their grandmother standing far below with a somewhat amused look on her face. 

“Are you really going to make me climb up there?” Myrna called playfully, tapping her cane on the deck a few times. “I’d love to, but I’ve only got one good knee, and I’d like to keep it that way for at least another ten years.” 

Astoria cracked a smile, carefully unwinding the rope that had been wrapped around their right leg and letting out a small gasp as they dropped down faster than they’d anticipated. 

With a huff and a gloved hand raked through their hair, they began the descent down, sliding slowly as to keep control, until they were perhaps three feet off the ground and could simply let go and let their boots thump firmly on the deck in front of Myrna. 

“Time to go?”

“Soon, dear.” Myrna sighed, offering her arm to Astoria, to which they set their hand in the crook of her arm and frowned as they fell into step beside her. 

“Why do I have a feeling I won’t like where this is going, granny?”

Myrna leaned against the side of the ship, smoothing silver curls behind her ear as she gazed out over the Strait of Seals. Neither of them paid mind to the crew, who began to prep the ship for it to pull into the inlet at the base of the Cliffs of Balgaire, knowing that they both would be more likely to be in the way than helpful on a journey at night and respectfully staying out of their way. 

“You know I’ve been writing Malvina.” She began, and Astoria nodded, folding her arms across their chest and tilting their head back to look up at the sky. 

Despite no longer being clan head, Malvina was well involved in the background of Canonach affairs - Astoria remembered clearly the days that the matriarch had joked that she had her nose so tied to clan affairs she’d be buried with it poking out of the ground to sniff out gossip.

With Astoria’s permission, Myrna had written to her not long after their enrollment at the Citadel, detailing as much as she could to explain what had happened in the weeks prior to keep someone in the family in the loop. And for all Malvina loved gossip, a secret laid with her would be locked up as tight as a vault should you ask to keep it that way. Not even her wife, Lorraine, would be privy to such a request - an agreement that Lorraine knew at least meant something was serious. 

“I do. She’s written to me a few times - sent me new gloves for my birthday.” Astoria wiggled their fingers subconsciously, the leather of the gloves in question already molded to their hands like a second skin. “Is she alright?”

Myrna chuckled, Astoria catching her nod out of her peripheral. “Oh, she’s fine. Lorraine caught a nasty fever a few weeks ago, but they’re both right as rain. But...Malvina’s kept things quiet, as you asked. I wanted to ask you if you plan to tell the family while you’re home, or if we should continue to keep this between us for the time being. Whatever your decision, I respect it, but I would like to walk in and be on the same page as you before we face the rest of them.”

Astoria was quiet for a long, long moment, closing their eyes and letting the calls of the crew fill the gap between them before they managed to muster up the words they wanted. 

“I haven’t been home since I was fifteen, if I remember right. Before Bulan. I’d like at least one last week where I know things will be normal.” Slowly, Astoria reached up, gathering their hair in both hands and refastening their lazy knot at the nape of their neck - letting their hands fall to rest on the sides of their neck as they glanced back to Myrna. 

“Those first days in Galbrada...I had to repeat myself so many times, tell my story so many times, be picked at and interrogated and smothered so many times. I love my family, but I have no doubt it will be a repeat of that all over again.”

Myrna nodded slowly, turning to rest her back against the railing and folding her hands over the silver-wrought handle of her cane. “I thought that might be the case. Still, I just wanted to be sure. You’ve got a knack for surprising me, my little rascal.” 

Astoria laughed as Myrna threw an arm around their waist, dragging them into an embrace and smiling as they pressed their face to the crown of Myrna’s head and buried their nose in her curls. 

They would remain like that until the Moorish Lady finally came to a stop at the shores, and together, they took the first steps onto dry land - the first steps on the soil of their home. 

*     *     *     *     *

Coming back was...eventful. 

By the time Myrna and Astoria had made it up to Castle Kintyre, the hour was late, and though the family had already eaten - Myrna and Astoria had been unsure when during the day they’d arrive exactly - they were happy to linger and chat while the visiting Canonachs raided the kitchens for leftovers. 

Many of the youngest cousins had gone to bed by the time they’d arrived, as well as some of the more daytime inclined relatives (Myrna grumbled about her own twin being a wuss for going to bed before the clock struck twelve) who would likely receive word of their arrival by morning.

Astoria did not miss the gap left by Senga, or their step-father, James, both of whom had apparently been perfectly lively until the Moorish Lady was spotted by a scout, but they couldn’t find it in themself to care. Their mother had a habit of making herself scarce when Myrna came to visit. Their grandmother was the embodiment of ‘hell hath no fury’, and Astoria vividly remembered the thorough reaming her mother was given after the incident in the library all those years ago. 

It’d been kept largely quiet among the family - only Myrna, Senga, Astoria, and Malvina knew the whole story - but gods if it didn’t make the holidays tense. 

Still, Astoria felt light as they left the hall, filled with joy for seeing their family again and looking forward to the following morning - they’d already received many early birthday wishes - when they’d get to see the rest of them over a traditional Moorish breakfast. The day had been long, as had the journey, and they were looking forward to crashing in the comfort of their bed and letting sleep claim them. 

The way to their bedroom was muscle memory no matter how long they’d been gone. Down the hall, to the left, shortcut through the lounge, nestled in the corner with two broad windows looking out over the grounds toward the Frozen Sea and the twinkling lights of Rosafearn in the distance. Absolutely the best room in the castle - it had been Astor’s, once, until he explicitly stated the only person who would take over the space would be Astoria. It’d long since been painted and redecorated, but the old armchair set by the window had been his and would remain there until it crumbled the next time Astoria put their ass in it. 

They closed the bedroom door behind them with a tired sigh, reaching to undo the buttons of their blouse as they strode across the room - 

Only for the light to click on unbidden and a voice greeted Astoria from across the room. 

“Hello, Catriona.”

Astoria yelped, scrambling to clasp their shirt together as Senga leveled them with a cool stare that somehow made them feel more naked than they actually were. 

“Bloody - hell are you sitting there in the dark like that for?” They breathed, trying to calm themself as Senga folded her hands neatly in her lap and held Astoria’s gaze. 

Astoria always knew they had their father’s eyes - somewhere between blue and green, depending on who was looking - but Senga’s had always been like ice. Pale, pale blue, almost white, and absolutely unnerving when she looked at you like you were something to be gained. 

Something in her eyes made Astoria think they were, to her, the greatest prize of all. 

“This is my home, I have every right to be where I please. Is it so wrong that I wished to spend a few moments with my child?” She asked, smoothing the single silver curl she had behind her ear and uncrossing her legs. 

“...no, I suppose not.” Astoria murmured, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed nearest to her and buttoning their shirt back up as Senga leaned forward in her seat. “How are you, mother?”

“Peachy, darling, absolutely peachy.” She reached for a sheaf of paper on the coffee table, leafing through the pages idly as she spoke, cutting straight to the point when she looked back up and offered them to Astoria. “You know, I’m hurt you never wrote to me once while you were away. You wrote to Malcolm, for birthdays, and you wrote to your cousins a few times...and Malvina. Oh, you wrote so many times to Malvina, you and my mother. I’m counting, what, thirty letters since you went to Galbrada?”

Astoria’s heart dropped like a stone into their stomach as Senga tutted, throwing the papers back on the table when Astoria didn’t reach to take them. She rose from Astor’s armchair, skirts sweeping across the rugs until she had Astoria’s chin grasped tenderly between her fingers and forced them to meet her gaze. 

“Why would you hide something like this from me, darling?” Senga crooned, tucking a bit of hair behind Astoria’s ear. “You know you can tell me anything. We don’t keep secrets from family, remember? Secrets lead to strife among us.”

Astoria tried to turn their head away, but Senga’s grip tightened on their jaw, even if her sickly sweet tone didn’t change. 

“You could have come home to Rosinmoor so much sooner. The Argyllians have always had magic in their bloodline, they were more than capable of teaching you whatever you could have learned in the Republic. They would have taken you in, taught you the ways of the court...no matter. What’s done is done. We have much to catch you up on.”

Senga released their jaw suddenly, reaching to smooth out their collar and straighten their shirt as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

“Do get some rest, darling. You’ll need it. I invited some friends of mine to visit tomorrow. They’ll begin teaching you the ways of the court, catch you up on the who’s who and the what’s what - several courtiers from different clans to bring you up to speed on each. It’ll be a process, surely, but you’re a quick study, otherwise I’ve no idea why you spent all this time with my mother. They’ll be here for about two weeks, so you’ll have to learn as much as you can before they go, and then your lessons will start to keep you on track.”

Astoria paused then, brows furrowing as Senga began to dig in their wardrobe to rifle through the clothing that was too stiff and formal for them to cart around while they were globetrotting. 

“Mother, I’m only here until the end of the week.” They said, voice trembling slightly as Senga paused mid examination of a blouse with broad lace sleeves. “Granny and I have a dig to go to in the Fennekh Desert at the end of the month, I can’t stay much longer than that. I just wanted to see everyone while we had the time.”

The tension between them both was so thick you could have bitten it.

Astoria flinched when Senga took one step closer, then another, until she was right in front of them with that lacy blouse draped neatly over her arm. 

“I know what you did in Galbrada.” She said softly, tilting her head as she looked down at Astoria. “A room of people - three of the best minds and magicians of the Whitethorn Citadel, and your bull of a grandmother - frozen by the blood in their own bodies at your command. Deny it all you wish, Catriona, but we both know it’s true.”

They tried to speak, but Senga’s voice rose, silencing them in a moment and making them flinch back as she stepped closer. Already being interrupted made them flush with irritation, but they bit their tongue, hoping that Senga would tire herself out in the end if they just let her keep ranting.

“Do you understand what that power can mean for you? The Canonach seat was always your birthright and it always will be, that won’t change. But you could become the greatest of all of us if you choose not to suppress it like you’ve been told all this time. That kind of power is strength, darling, a strength that will protect this clan so long as you hold the Barony.”

Astoria took another step back, feeling their hip bump the edge of their nightstand and quickly moving to fix the lamp as Senga advanced on them. They felt heat building in their chest, like a kettle on the stove, but they tried to tamp it down until their back hit the broad pane of glass that looked out into the starry sky.

“It is time for you to grow up. You will be twenty tomorrow morning, and it is time to stop gallivanting about carefree when you have duties to fulfill. I shouldn’t have let it go on for so long, I should have demanded you come home after Myrna supported that first year of your little temper tantrum.” Senga’s hand snapped out, grabbing their chin and forcing them to look her in the eye as her fingers dug into their cheeks. “Do you hear me, Catriona?”

Something...something snapped in Astoria then, and their own hand shot up, grabbing Senga’s wrist and ripping it away from their face with a strength they didn’t know they had. 

“If you’re going to address me, mother, at least give me the respect of calling me by the name I’ve called myself for as long as I can remember.” Astoria spat, shoving her hand away and stepping to the side to try to work themself out of the corner they’d been physically backed into. “You’ve weaponized ‘Catriona’ every time I did something you didn’t like, every time you wanted me to bow to your whims and sit pretty like the perfect child you pretended you had.”

“How dare you -”

“How dare you treat your own child as you have treated me all these years?!” Astoria shrieked, voice breaking slightly as Senga seemed to freeze in place at their outburst. “How dare you make my cooperation a condition I had to fulfill to earn your love, make me feel like I had to prove myself over and over to you to earn scraps of respect?”

Senga’s face flushed, and she turned, tossing the blouse onto Astoria’s bed and moving toward the bedroom door. “I’m not going to speak with you if you want to behave like this. We can talk in the morning when you’ve calmed down.”

Before she’d even reached the door, Astoria had moved in front of it, flipping the lock and positioning themself in front of the mechanism so Senga couldn’t leave.

“No. No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to run away because you don’t like what you’re hearing. For once in my life you’re going to open your ears and listen to me, because I’m only going to say this once.”

Their blood was boiling, so hot through their veins that Astoria thought they were going to burn up, but the words kept spilling over faster than they considered putting a damper on them. And they didn’t want to, if they were honest with themself. It was the first time they spoke unfiltered to Senga, truly voiced how they felt, and it felt...it felt like flying. It felt like they had control for the first time in years, and they weren’t ready to let go of that feeling just yet. 

“You said that the primary reason you even had me was so I could take the barony one day.”

Senga’s eyes rolled, and Astoria’s temper flared as she dismissively waved a hand. “You’re still on about that? Come now, let bygones be bygones. That was years ago.”

“I am not nearly done speaking.” Astoria said firmly, holding a hand up to stop Senga before she could continue. “But yes, I am ‘still on about that’, as you put it. I’ll carry those words in my mind for as long as I breathe, because it was what made me open my eyes to the truth of things. You don’t own me, my life, or my freedom for as long as I am strong enough to bite back. My temper tantrum, as you called it, was the first choice I ever made for myself without fearing what you’d say to me when I told you. And I learned from that choice, and every choice I made after, that you can do nothing to me if I don’t allow it. You are too selfish to consider a reality in which your plans fall through, thinking your way is the best way regardless of what I want.”

“If you cared about something beyond yourself you’d have seen in those letters how I told Malvina about my nightmares, about my fears, about how I felt like I was losing myself until I learned to control my magic rather than force it outward. But you only had eyes for what you thought you could stand to gain, what you thought I could give you, not my own well-being or my opinions on the matter. I’ve made it clear for years that I never wanted the barony, and the power that I have won’t change that. You don’t have to accept it, but understand it’s the way things are. Understand that I’ll take no more of this. You are no family of mine, Baroness, and you never will be if I have anything to say about it.”

Senga reached out, as if to touch their cheek, but Astoria dodged her hand and raised an arm to gesture for her to stay back. “Blood is thicker than water, Astoria. No matter what you say, you cannot possibly abandon your family so easily.”  

“I prefer an alternative interpretation. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb - the bonds in the family I choose are stronger than those that are given by birth. And I choose Myrna, who has been more my mother than you ever have been. I choose to find a family who will love me for me, who won’t attach conditions to their acceptance and approval, who see me as I am and expect nothing more than Astoria Fenharrow, lover of bones and dirt and other things long since dead."

Astoria reached behind them and turned the lock again, opening the door just as the grand hall clock began to toll midnight and gesturing to the empty hall. 

“Now get the hell out. Your house it may be, but it’s my goddamn bedroom.”

Senga opened her mouth to argue, but Astoria was already walking across the room, picking up the letters they’d sent to Malvina and tossing them into the cold hearth with every intention to use them as kindling for the cool summer night. She turned on her heel, and just as she took a few steps out into the hall, Astoria called out to her again with their tone clipped.  

“Oh, and one more thing?”

Senga paused just beyond the doorway, looking back over her shoulder -

Something in Astoria’s face made her freeze then, going so pale it was like she’d seen a ghost. 

“You lay a hand on me again without my consent, and I swear I will make sure you no longer have one.”

The door fell shut as Senga disappeared down the hall, and Astoria let out a trembling sigh, hands shaking as they peeled off their gloves to toss them on the table. They ran a hand through their hair, looked up to gaze in the mirror mounted above the hearth -

And then startled when they looked into their own eyes and met red, red, red irises that stared right back. Astoria took a few steps closer, removing their glasses and letting the chain catch them against their chest when they raised a hand to their eyes.

Sclera, black as night, making scarlet irises seem to glow as they looked back at their reflection and blinked a few times. They moved to wet their lips and froze when their tongue slid over a canine that definitely hadn’t been that sharp before, and with a cautious finger, pushed their lip up to look at the teeth behind it. 

They had...fangs. 

“Look at that.” They muttered, blinking a few more times and watching with intrigue as their eyes faded back to familiar white and turquoise and their teeth seemed to almost...retract, as if they’d never been fangs at all. Logically they knew they should be terrified, but they were high on adrenaline, and they gave their reflection a bit of a smile despite themself. They weren’t afraid - they thought it strange, surely, but at this point, strange was the name of the game. 

“Guess mother knows I can bite back after all.”

[evopics]

The Pretender

Song by Jackson Browne

I'm going to rent myself a house

In the shade of the freeway

Gonna pack my lunch in the morning

And go to work each day

And when the evening rolls around

I'll go on home and lay my body down

And when the morning light comes streaming in

I'll get up and do it again, Amen

Say it again, Amen

I want to know what became of the changes

We waited for love to bring

Were they only the fitful dreams

Of some greater awakening?

I've been aware of the time going by

They say, in the end, it's the wink of an eye

When the morning light comes streaming in

You'll get up and do it again, Amen

Caught between the longing for love

And the struggle for the legal tender

Where the sirens sing and the church bells ring

And the junk man pounds his fender

Where the veterans dream of the fight

Fast asleep at the traffic light

And the children solemnly wait

For the ice cream vendor

Out into the cool of the evening

Strolls the pretender

He knows that all his hopes and dreams

Begin and end there

ah, the lovers as they run through the night

(Leaving nothing) leaving nothing but to choose off and fight

And tear at the world with all their might

While the ships bearing their dreams

Sail out of sight

I'm gonna find myself a girl

Who can show me what laughter means

And we'll fill in the missing colors

In each other's paint-by-number dreams

And then we'll put our dark glasses on

And we'll make love until our strength is gone

And when the morning light comes streaming in

We'll get up and do it again

Get it up again

I'm gonna be a happy idiot

And struggle for the legal tender

Where the ads take aim and lay their claim

To the heart and the soul of the spender

And believe in whatever may lie

In those things that money can buy

Where true love could have been a contender

Are you there? Say a prayer for the pretender

Who started out so young and strong only to surrender

Say a prayer for the pretender

Are you there for the pretender?

Say a prayer for the pretender

Are you there for the pretender?

Are you prepared for the pretender?

[maria-scribbles]

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part three

summary: while mother nature isn’t very kind to the obx, jj’s dad is even worse to him. sailor sees the aftermath, relives a day that changed her life forever, and realizes she’d be down with murder if she could get away with it. between nutella sandwiches, story time, and a shared bed, an unspoken thing slowly starts to become a little more real.

word count: 6.9k+ (oops 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings: abuse/neglect, blood, mentions of parental abandonment/gambling addiction, swearing, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, blatant references to hocus pocus, the little mermaid, percy jackson and the olympians, and mean girls (and a teeny, subtle reference to stranger things, see if y’all can catch it! 😉)

a/n: i was so excited to write this part, not gonna lie (if you couldn’t tell, just look at that word count). hurt/comfort is my shittt and i’m a pretty big slut for physical comfort/touches so i kinda went ham with it lol. i’m also very happy to finally introduce everyone to peyton, who’s a character i really love and enjoy writing, especially her relationship with her gf alison. both of them will get some time to shine in this part, peyton in the present and alison in the past! as usual, this is unbetaed so all mistakes belong to me. enjoy!

gif credit to @sci-fi​

~Masterlist~

part one | part two | part four | playlist 

part three: storm surge

It rains the entire week. Scratch that -it storms: the whole island buffeted by howling winds and blanketed by a thick layer of dark and angry clouds that make life just shy of miserable. For someone who spends 99% of her time outside like Sailor, miserable doesn’t begin to cover it. And to think, it’s only the beginning of hurricane season.

The redhead props her chin in one tan hand as she leans against the cool marble counter of The Butterscotch Bonnet Ice Cream Parlor, watching the rain pound against the shop’s bay windows. Across the street she can just make out the rough, gray surf of the Atlantic through a tiny gap in between two buildings and she sighs wistfully, thinking about all the beautiful shells getting tossed onto the beach by the waves. She’s half tempted to just throw off her apron, hop the counter, and make a break for the sand, storm be damned.

She’s almost positive she wouldn’t even be missed. There isn’t a customer in sight and there hasn’t been one since she started her shift three hours ago. Peyton was still in the back kitchen, messing around with whatever convoluted ice cream flavor she thought up for this week; her boss definitely has a knack for concocting weird combinations that somehow work together, at least most of the time. Sailor thinks back to a few weeks ago when they debuted that delicious blackberry balsamic that sold out every day without fail, then followed it with a cilantro lime that was hit-or-miss (a definite miss in her opinion, as cilantro just tastes like soap to her; Peyton had just smiled her infectious smile, shrugged her tiny shoulders, and said, “Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”) This week’s flavor involves mascarpone and peaches and she can’t wait to steal a sample because if the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen is any indication, it’s gonna be bomb, even though it probably won’t upset the shop’s namesake flavor from the top of her list.

Thinking about ice cream makes her kind of hungry, on top of the fact that she has a terrible habit of eating when she’s bored, so she dishes out a small scoop of Butterscotch Bonnet and grabs a spoon before leaning back against the counter, digging through the cup to find the best part: salted caramel-filled chocolate sea shells, made in house. The days Sailor gets to help make them are her favorite days to come to work, when she and Peyton commandeer the kitchen and have the time of their lives, blasting music and dancing as they slave away. Of course, the little bag of chocolates she gets to take home is a pretty big plus, too.

“That’s coming out of your paycheck, Sail.”

Spoon halfway to her mouth, she sheepishly glances up from her snack as Peyton emerges from the kitchen, fondly shaking her head and sending her inky black braids dancing across her shoulders.

“What am I gonna do with you?” She continues with a wink before starting to make herself a milkshake, dropping two scoops of their tiramisu flavor into a malt cup.

“Sorry, you know I can’t help myself!” Sailor knows the other girl was joking but she apologizes anyway and opens the cabinet to grab a cup and straw for her, setting them on the counter beside the old-fashioned milkshake machine. As far as bosses go, Peyton is one of the all-around best to have and the redhead loves working at her shop. While the Buckleys are rich as shit and total kooks, the family’s youngest daughter is down to earth, kind, and prefers to work hard for what she wants instead of flaunting her parents’ wealth and The Butterscotch Bonnet is proof that, despite her last name and penchant for the finer things, she’s a pogue at heart. It’s no wonder Alison’s head over heels for her.

“I also know you’re bored as shit.” Peyton calls over the sound of the blender, sending a knowing smirk toward the younger girl, who rolls her eyes and shovels another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth as she replies, “Obviously. This weather fucking sucks.”

A loud clap of thunder seems to shake the very glass in the windows and she gestures toward the storm outside, her point proven. Peyton glances around the deserted shop, still bright and cheery despite its lack of movement and life, then back to the relentless downpour, before shrugging and turning back to finish blending her milkshake. “Wanna go home early?”

“Seriously?”

“Why not? You’ve already cleaned this whole place from top to bottom and I don’t think we’re gonna be getting customers any time soon.” Ignoring the paper cup, she plops the straw straight into her drink and takes a big sip, then nods in satisfaction before adding a huge swirl of whipped cream on top.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?” Sailor asks, smiling excitedly as she grabs her bag from under the counter and tosses her empty cup into the trash.

“Only every day,” the older girl replies cheekily, smiling as she’s pulled into a one-armed hug of thanks by her employee.

“Well, you’re gonna hear it again: you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peyton pats the redhead’s shoulder with one deep brown hand and then gently pushes her toward the kitchen. “Now get out of here, brat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sailor throws a peace sign over her shoulder as she heads out the door, cackling at her boss’s offended call of “don’t call me ma’am!” After clocking out, she fishes her keys out of her bag and dashes through the downpour to her beat-up clunker of a truck. A hand-me-down from Alison, Flounder’s nothing to look at with all the dents and chips in his blue paint, but he gets her where she needs to go and has room for surfboards in the back and two other pogues up front on the bench seat -and the other two unlucky ones riding in the bed, hiding under the boards- so she’s not complaining, even though she wishes his radio worked more than half the time.

(Two reasons why John B’s almost always the group chauffeur: the fact that he can legally drive all five of them around without breaking the law -not that they’ve ever gotten caught in Sailor’s truck but anyone with a brain knows that where one pogue goes, the other four aren’t far behind- and good music flowing from a perfectly working stereo.)

Unfortunately, it’s on the fritz today so her drive home is spent listening to the sounds of Flounder’s windshield wipers and the pounding of rain against his roof. She heads inland from the beach, away from Peyton’s shop in the outskirts of affluent Figure 8 and its kook mansions to the more homey, laid-back Cut, passing by the turnoff to the Chateau and through the woods before pulling into the empty driveway of her tiny house. The fact that her mother’s car is no where to be found doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. Waiting for her on the porch is Binx, the stray black cat she’s taken to feeding and more or less adopted, stretching on the blanket she left out for him.

“Hey, handsome,” The redhead says, kneeling down to give him a loving scratch behind the ears; he meows in response and rubs his fuzzy face against her ankles, weaving between her legs as she slides her key into the lock. “Come on in.”

The front door closes behind them with a hollow bang that echoes through the empty house like the thunder outside. Sailor hangs up her keys and follows Binx down the hall toward her room, ignoring the closed door that leads to her mom’s room and a bed that she assumes hasn’t been slept in in months. Not that she would know: she’s made it a habit to spend as few nights as possible alone in the house, instead crashing at the Chateau or Kiara’s place and hoping her mom’s comfortable in her makeshift room at The Sandbar where Carmen doesn’t have to deal with the teenager she’s supposed to be caring for (Sailor’s always been an independent girl and has no trouble getting by alone but fuck, that doesn’t mean she wants to.).

Her father’s green eyes, the same color as her own, stare back at her from a picture hanging on the wall of a better time, when everything was alright and her family wasn’t so broken; the three of them on the beach with a twelve year old Sailor in the middle and surfboards in hand. Carmen looks like the mother she remembers and misses so bad it hurts, and while Ryan wasn’t always the most caring of fathers and only acted like a dad when it was convenient, she’d still do anything to have him back, terrible parenting skills and all. She turns away from the picture and the complicated mess her heart becomes when she thinks about him, continuing down the hall to her room.

Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover her feelings about her dad, though. She’s always believed she was an afterthought to him, never first on his list but still good enough to tag along for company when he was doing something he wanted to do. He was a man who liked the idea of having a kid but never wanted to actually step up and parent when things weren’t all fun and games, instead deciding to take off to Atlantic City for a month or two at a time to gamble away whatever money they earned at the surf shop.

She wants to hate him. She should loathe him and in a way, she does. She hates the way he still makes her feel like everything’s her fault, even when he’s not around. She hates the person her mother becomes when he disappears, someone distant and cold and so unlike the good, caring mother Sailor remembers. She hates that home doesn’t feel like home anymore and it’s all his fault, and she hates that despite everything he’s put her through, all the hurt he’s caused, she still can’t find it in her big, bleeding heart to truly detest her father. After all, he could’ve been worse. So, so much worse.

The only place she can get away from everything is her room, her own little sanctuary from the cold emptiness of the rest of the house and constant reminders of Ryan’s absence. It’s warm and bright, the walls painted a sunny yellow that reminds her of lazy days relaxing on the beach. Her first surfboard hangs on the wall above her bed, tucked away in a corner, doubling as a shelf for her massive shell collection while pictures of her and her friends dangle underneath, pinned to a long piece of twine. Her current boards stand propped in another corner, leaning against a wall plastered with all types of movie and music posters. Through the windows covered with curtains as light as sea foam, the rain steadily pours but in here, she’s safe. In here, she can breathe.

Sailor strips off her uniform, tossing it along with her bag onto the chair by the door and slips out of her worn red high-tops before pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and the first long-sleeve shirt her fingers find in the closet, then flops onto her bed and pulls the soft blue blanket around her shoulders, reading glasses and well-loved copy of The Lightning Thief in hand while Binx curls up at her feet. Every summer without fail she rereads the series (why, she’s not exactly sure: maybe its nostalgia, maybe its because she lowkey relates to water-loving, steadfastly loyal Percy) and she’s fallen behind this year, so she fully intends on reading as much as she can tonight before bed. The storm provides perfect background noise and soon she’s five chapters in before a sudden loud knock on her window causes her head to snap up in alarm.

Oh no. Without bothering to save her place, she tosses the book and her glasses aside and scrambles from the bed to the window, tearing open the curtains to reveal a sight she always dreads seeing. Her best friend stands outside in the rain, soaked to the bone, hand pressed against his side, and the sight of bright red blood trailing down his face and staining the collar of his gray shirt makes her heart drop to her stomach. Wordlessly, she opens the window and helps him climb inside before closing it firmly and drawing the curtains, once again blocking the world from her -now their- sanctuary, then grabs her blanket from the bed and wraps it tightly around JJ’s shaking shoulders after he kicks off his sodden boots.

Her hand slowly moves to cup his face and her heart breaks a little more when he tenses, blue eyes carefully tracking its movement until he seems to remember who it belongs to and lets himself lean into her touch, cheek resting against her palm. Sailor runs her thumb under his split lip and and wipes at the crimson staining his tan skin, her mouth curving into a small frown when she only succeeds in smearing it further.

“Come on,” She breaks the silence with her gentle voice, barely above a whisper, and reaches her other hand out to take his, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

His fingers hold so, so tight as she leads him down the hall to the bathroom and she’s so laser-focused on the way they tremble against hers that she doesn’t notice the blood left behind on the handle when she opens the door. After flicking on the light she turns to face him and gently pushes the blanket from his shoulders with her free hand, letting it fall to the floor in a damp heap, then blindly reaches behind her to turn on the shower, cranking the heat as high as it’ll go.

“Sorry about your blanket.” JJ says at last, his voice quiet, and Sailor shakes her head, running her thumb in circles on the back of his cold hand.

“I don’t care about that, J.” She replies just as quiet and before she can stop herself, before she can think about what exactly she’s about to admit, she adds, “I care about you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a barely-there smile and while it may be tiny, it’s a smile nonetheless and she feels the tight knot in her chest begin to loosen as she lets go of his hand, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Can you lift your arms for me?”

He does as she asks but his pained wince doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead when she pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on top of the discarded blanket, and her jaw clenches at the sight of deep purple bruises in the shape of his father’s fists marring the skin over his ribs.

“Let me know if this hurts.” Oh so carefully she reaches out with one hand and gently touches the darkest mark, where she’d seen him clutching at outside her window, her fingers delicately feeling for any damages.

“A little.” He admits, shaky breath warm against her forehead and she does her best to keep her hand steady as she checks over the rest of him, then feathers her fingers back over that first bruise.

“It doesn’t feel like anything’s broken or cracked, so that’s good.” She says, allowing her hand to linger for a second before letting it fall from his side. “A rib or two might be a little bruised, though, so we’ll put some ice on them later, just in case. Sound good?”

JJ nods and watches her with those ocean blue eyes as she pulls her own shirt over her head, leaving her in a plain black cami and shorts, before grabbing his hand once again and pulling him into the shower with her. The water’s just a tad too hot and it instantly starts turning her skin red but Sailor doesn’t mind, instead choosing to embrace the heat and the way it burns everything away, leaving behind brand new skin that’s ready for a new day, new adventures. She reaches up and gingerly wipes the blood from her best friend’s face; in a mirror of earlier, he leans his cheek into her palm, eyes slowly closing while both arms wrap around her waist and pull her close.

“Sail,” He whispers her nickname into the humid air between them and she barely registers the tremble in his voice before his knees buckle, sinking them both to the shower floor until they’re face to face, sitting in between each other’s legs. He clings to her, arms even tighter around her waist and face buried against her neck, and she feels the shake of his shoulders when she winds her own arms around them. One hand moves to steadily run through wet blond hair, over and over, comforting in the best way she knows how, the fingers of her other hand tracing circles on the bare skin of his back as water continues to rain down on them like the downpour outside.

She’s eerily reminded of another time they sat like this, sobbing in each other’s arms five years ago, the first time she saw just how cruel his father could be, the first time she realized she’d do absolutely everything and anything to keep him safe, and it was both one of the best and worst days of her life.

Eleven year old Sailor shoved her math textbook into her cluttered locker and kicked it shut with a scowl. She hated math, her math teacher, and especially whoever made her schedule- who in their right mind would put math in eighth-period? She swung her backpack onto her shoulder and grunted softly at the extra weight it carried. JJ hadn’t come to school that day and Sailor had volunteered to take his missed work to him; it made sense, considering she lived closest out of the pogues and it’d make her feel better if she got to check on him herself -there was a reason the rest of the group called her the mom friend, after all.

She’d already collected assignments from the classes he shared with Pope and Kiara as well as herself, so now she was just waiting for John B to drop off his own. As if summoned by her thoughts, the brunet boy rounded the corner and waved, weaving his way to her through their fellow middle-schoolers. “Sorry, you know how Mr. Jefferson likes to go on and on and on...” He said, pulling some papers from his backpack and handing them to the redhead. “Do you remember where J’s house is?”

Sailor rolled her eyes and carefully slid the homework into her own bag. “Considering I live, like, five streets away, I sure hope so.” She fired back, ignoring his cackle of laughter as they joined the rush of students, excited for the weekend, flooding out through the double doors of Kildare County Middle School. She lingered by her friend as he unlocked his bike from the rack and then climbed on, asking, “You’re helping out at the shop on Saturday, right?”

She nodded, scanning the sea of waiting cars and waving when she spotted her ride. “Yeah, why?”

“My dad and I are gonna hang out at the beach that day so we’ll stop by and say hi.” With a casual salute in her direction he slowly started pedaling down the road, calling back over his shoulder, “Tell JJ he can come too if he’s feeling better!”

“Tell him yourself!” She yelled after his retreating back, not surprised in the slightest when he didn’t turn around and disappeared into the trees. Alison’s beat up blue truck pulled up to the curb seconds later and the older redhead leaned out the open window, a shit-eating grin on her face as she joked, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Sailor laughed and climbed into the passenger seat, dropping her backpack on the floor with a loud thump. Alison winced at the sound, raising her eyebrow as she waited for the younger girl to put her seatbelt on. “What the hell do you have in there, rocks?”

“One of my friends missed school today so I have his homework. Do you mind driving by so I can drop it off? He only lives a few streets away.”

“Sure,” Alison replied, flicking on her turn signal and merging into the stream of cars leaving the school’s parking lot. “So who skipped: Smarty Pants, Bandana Boy, or Surfer Bro?”

The eleven year old giggled at the nicknames -she’d never admit it, but they were honestly pretty accurate- and replied, “Surfer Bro. And his name is JJ, Ali.”

“Rightttt, JJ. What do you think it stands for, huh? Jesse James? John Jacob?”

“Oh my Godddddd!”

The high school senior continued to come up with names, each more ridiculous than the last until Sailor exclaimed “There!” and directed her to park near a small, run-down house on a quiet road. She pulled a folder from her backpack and was out the door before the older girl could blink, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back!”

The redhead slammed the truck door behind her and made her way toward the porch and what she assumed was the front door; she’d never been inside JJ’s house but he always came out to meet them through there so she figured it was a safe bet. The smile fell from her face, ears registering the sound of horrible, angry yelling just as she brought her fist down to knock and she anxiously fidgeted back and forth on the step, her heart starting to beat fast in her chest. What the hell was going on?

"Fucking hell!” An enraged shout came clear as day from inside and as she heard the person’s stomping approach, something in her, a feeling, urged her to hide the folder in her hand behind her back. She jumped in surprise when the door was suddenly ripped open, revealing a fuming, red-faced man who glared down at her with heavily lidded eyes and one hand clenched in a fist at his side, the other holding the threshold in a white-knuckled grip. “What the hell do you want?”

“H-hi, I’m Sailor, one of JJ’s friends? He wasn’t at school today so I came by to check on him.” She said, proud of herself for keeping most of the tremble out of her voice while she studiously avoided his cruel gaze, instead subtly trying to peer behind him and hopefully catch a glimpse of her friend. The man, who she realized with sheer horror had to be JJ’s dad, was absolutely terrifying, with breath reeking of booze and mouth curled into a vicious snarl as he moved to block her view into the house and snapped, “Kid’s fine. Now get the fuck outta here.”

“Can I just see-”

She was cut off when he slammed the door in her face with the hand that had been by his side and her eyes widened, stomach sinking with dread as she caught sight of the splotch of bright crimson left behind on the wood. Oh, God. This could not be happening. She remembered John B’s warning about JJ’s dad, saying he wasn’t a very nice man when she became friends with them last year but she didn’t recall him ever saying anything about this and it hits her like a freight train: he probably didn’t know. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. If JB didn’t know then Pope and Kiara definitely didn’t and a sickening feeling started to churn her belly, both at the thought of JJ facing all of this by himself and the fact that she alone had the power to help.

Inside the house, she heard his dad resume his screaming, every other word accompanied by a sickening thumping noise she’d only heard in person once before, a few years ago on the beach with her parents when two drunk tourons started wailing on each other over a spilled beer: the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Sailor started to panic, both hands flying to cover her mouth in terror. Underneath the screaming and punching, she couldn’t hear anything, any cry or yelp or whimper from her friend and, mind racing with million terrible, awful thoughts, she turned and ran back to the truck, flinging open the door and scrambling inside to grab Alison’s arm, folder in her hands falling to the floor.

“Ali, please, we’ve got to help him-”

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” The older girl joked as she looked up from her phone, smile falling from her lips when she caught sight of the eleven year old’s pale face and wide eyes. She reached over and placed her hands on Sailor’s slight, trembling shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Her lip quivered terribly as she told Alison everything she saw and heard, watching her expression slowly twist into outright dismay, the fingers on her shoulders tightening their grip when she finished, “Ali, what’re we gonna do? We have to help him right now!”

“Fuck, okay, first off let’s calm down- don’t give me that look, kid! We can’t just burst in there like Wonder Woman or something, let me- oh, look!” Alison pointed through windshield, where JJ’s dad furiously stalked from the house to his truck, climbing inside and violently slamming the door before taking off in a cloud of dust. Sailor quickly ducked when he drove by and stayed down until the older redhead gave her the all clear, “He’s gone. That was perfect timing, huh?”

She didn’t reply or even wait for her to unbuckle her seatbelt, taking off at a sprint and bounding onto the porch in no time, furiously knocking against the door. “Hey, J, are you there? It’s Sailor.”

There was no reply and her heart dropped to her stomach. Alison joined her on the front step, her face blanching when her eyes landed on the blood stain on the corner of the door. One of her hands reached out to grab the handle while the other found Sailor’s smaller one and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” With no hesitation and the bravery Sailor wished she had, the eighteen year old pushed the door open and pulled them both into the dusky house. The younger redhead wrinkled her nose at the sight of beer cans and pill bottles littering a circle around the couch but she pressed on, calling his name as the girls moved room to room.

“Sail?” The sound of JJ’s pained voice coming from the room at the end of the hall made her heart skip a beat and she dropped Alison’s hand, running forward and bursting through the door in a rush, not even thinking about what state her friend might’ve been in. Feeling like she’d just been sucker punched right in the gut at the sight of him lying face down on the floor with a small puddle of blood forming under his mouth, she dropped to her knees beside him and delicately took his hand in both of hers, nearly crying in relief when his fingers gripped tight to her palm. Behind her, she heard Alison’s sharp intake of breath as she entered the room, darting over to kneel on JJ’s other side and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, and together they carefully helped him roll onto his back, then up into a sitting position with the older girl’s arm behind him as a brace.

Her jaw trembled as she tried and tried to say something, anything; her head was filled with so many questions -what happened, how could he do this, when did this start?- but the only thing she managed to ask was a simple, “Why?”

“It’s just what he does.” He replied with a shrug, wincing at the movement, “I’m sorry, Sail.”

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” She asked incredulously, then followed his finger as he pointed at a pile of jagged yellowish-brown pieces on the floor by his bed.

“He broke the shell you gave me.” He looked so upset, so distraught over the broken whelk and she felt her heart swell with waves of affection for her friend, who was more concerned about her broken gift than he was about himself.

“Hey,” She said softly, turning away from the mess to look him in the eye with a small smile, her hand reaching out on its own accord to brush a lock of fine blond hair away from a cut near his temple. “It’s just a shell, okay? I’ll find you another one.”

The sight of blood on his teeth when he returned her smile reminded her of the task at hand and she shook her head, wrapping her thin arm around his waist. “Let’s get you out of here. Think you can stand?” At his nod, both girls put one of his arms around their shoulders and slowly stood, shuffling out the door with all the grace and speed of an old man with two bad knees, but hey, they were moving and getting JJ out of that terrible place, so she’d go as slow as they needed to, even if her anxiety was getting worse and worse with each passing second they spent in the house.

After loading the kids onto the bench seat of the truck, Alison quickly drove them to the empty Flynn residence -Carmen and Ryan still working at the shop- and helped Sailor move JJ into the bathroom. “I’ll go grab you some towels and dry clothes, okay? I think some of your dad’s old stuff might fit him.” She said, watching as the young girl kneeled beside her friend and started untying his shoes.

The eleven year old nodded at her older friend and sent her a small smile. “Thanks, Ali.”

“No problem, kiddos.” With a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes she was gone, heading down the hall toward the laundry room.

Sailor reached over and turned the shower on as hot as possible. “Okay, um, take as long as you need, I guess. I’ll wait outside.” She jerked her thumb toward the hall but before she could even take a step, his hand darted out and grabbed her wrist.

“Stay.” It was more of a demand than a question and JJ seemed embarrassed to even be saying it, the uninjured parts of his face turning an endearing shade of pink. “Please?”

She just nodded and reached a leg out to gently kick the door shut, her mind racing. She stayed but what the hell should she do now, keep her back turned? Get in the shower with him? From the way he was fidgeting back and forth and avoiding her eyes, he was probably thinking the same thing.

“Oh, come on.” She finally said after a minute or two of decidedly not looking at each other and kicked off her sandals, darting forward on impulse to grab his hand and pull them both under the spray. The water uncomfortably soaked into their clothes and made their movements sluggish as they clumsily shuffled around -stepping on each other’s toes and mumbling identical apologies- before finding a position that was only a little bit awkward in the confined space, his arms on either side of her waist and bracing against the wall, her hands tentatively resting on his shoulders.

“This okay?” She asked, feeling her cheeks reddening from more than just the steam curling around them and frizzing her hair, and JJ nodded, swallowing thickly and blinking away a droplet of red-tinged condensation that slid down his forehead. Her hand, moving on its own accord, slowly reached for his face until her palm gently came to rest against his flushed cheek, the tip of her pointer finger just brushing a small cut that sliced through one eyebrow.

“How...” Sailor shook her head, taking a deep breath before finally asking the question that’d been on her mind since this whole thing started, “How long has this been happening?”

Once again he avoided her wide-eyed gaze, eyelids fluttering shut as he answered hesitantly, quietly, “I...I don’t remember a time when it didn’t.”

His answer chipped away the last brick in the dam and the floodgates broke. She flung herself into his chest, arms wrapping around his shoulders and fingers twisting in the sodden fabric of his shirt, sobbing into the warm skin of his neck. He froze in her embrace, whole body stock-still until something in him seemed to break too, and his own arms encircled her waist, bit by bit, pulling her close as he buried his face into her shoulder and two sixth graders slowly slumped to the shower floor in a tangled mess of limbs.

“J, why didn’t you say anything?”

His body trembled in her arms and she inhaled sharply at his reply of, “Because I’m not worth it.”

Pulling away from his neck to rest her forehead against his, she cupped his face in both hands and forced him to look her in the eyes, her voice quiet but adamant, insistent as she said, “Don’t you dare say that again, got it? You are worth it. So, so worth it.”

The look behind his red-rimmed, ocean blue gaze was made of pure, unadulterated disbelief and Sailor, at a loss, wracked her brain for something, anything she could do to make him see himself the way she did: loyal, adventurous, funny, and oh so brave, already a beloved, dear friend to her in the short time she’d known him. How could she help him realize he was so much more than his father’s abuse?

‘What can I do to make you believe me?’

An epiphany came to her like a bolt of lightning straight to the heart. It was more than a little crazy and the thought of actually doing it was lowkey terrifying but she’d seen it work beautifully for Alison and her girlfriend Peyton that one time and hell, she was so desperate to help her friend that she’d do just about anything. And so before her anxious mind could start to overthink she surged forward, both hands still holding his face in a gentle grip, and firmly pressed her lips to his.

JJ’s eyes were almost comically wide while he stared, frozen still at her touch, and her own eyes were just as huge as she held the kiss for a few seconds and then abruptly pulled back, her face slowly changing into a shade very similar to her hair.

“Y-you, I-” He stuttered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as a deep pink flush started to color the tan skin of his neck. “Wh-why-”

“Because you are worthy, J. Promise me you won’t forget that.” Her words were as fierce as the hug she pulled him into, only letting the tension bleed out of her when she felt him gradually return her embrace and nod against her shoulder.

“I promise, Sail.”

“Good.”

And with that they fell silent, holding each other tight until the shower ran cold.

Sailor didn’t know it at the time but that hadn’t been just her first kiss but JJ’s too, as they never talked about it until two years later, during a game of truth or dare with the rest of the pogues. Neither actually told the truth, both giving a vague answer about a bet that seemed to placate their friends enough to let the matter drop, never to be brought up again.

The only kiss that happens today is the light brush of her lips against his forehead as she holds him close, even as the water slowly begins to lose its warmth. His embrace is tight, their limbs intertwined so fully that it’s hard to discern where one ends and the other begins and when he speaks, she has to strain to hear the words mumbled against her neck over the pounding spray of the shower.

“I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His confession cuts her deep. Hearing him admit something so utterly heartbreaking and vulnerable, coming from the side of him Sailor alone gets to see, ignites a fury that simmers under her skin and burns her from the inside out, thoughts turning venomous and, dare she say, downright homicidal. Fuck his dad. Fuck his dad and everything he’s ever done to hurt her best friend, both with and without fists.

“If I could get away with murder, I would.”

It’s true. For JJ, she’d do anything and everything to keep him safe without hesitation, up to and including maiming his dad so he could never touch him again (and if she happened to take it a little too far and straight up kill the bastard, she’d most definitely be fine with it.). He laughs, but it’s empty, hollow, and sorely lacking the joy, the carefreeness, the pure life that it normally radiates.

“You’re not the only one.”

Some time later, after the water raining down on them turns ice cold and their tears have dried, they reluctantly disentangle themselves from each other and towel off before making a quick detour to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for his ribs and have a meager dinner of sandwiches made with the last of her bread and a near empty jar of Nutella. He laughs, for real this time, when he reads the note she writes herself on the fridge future sailor, as much as you want to, you can’t live off just nutella and sheer spite, okay? please go shopping. love, past sailor <3 and grabs the marker out of her hand, adding +past jj and a little smiley face that makes her smile brightly.

They return to her room where they change, back to back, into dry clothes -one of her dresser drawers is full of his things she’s stolen acquired over the years- and, after throwing everything wet, including their discarded shirts and blanket retrieved from the bathroom, into the washing machine to be dealt with some other time, they lie on her bed side by side, shoulder to shoulder, wrapped up together in a spare throw stashed at the bottom of her closet. Binx slinks up from his spot at their feet and lazily drapes himself across their laps, purring like a motorboat when Sailor starts running her hand along his back.

“I almost sat on those,” JJ says, handing over her glasses, “and this.” He holds her forgotten book in his hands, casually flipping through the pages before turning it over and scanning the back cover.

“Have you read it before?”

He shrugs, a barely-there grimace briefly twisting his features as the motion jostles his sore ribs. “Started it, never finished.”

“Well,” She starts, slipping her glasses on and snatching the book out of his grasp, “how about we fix that? I’ll read, you pet the cat.”

Sailor’s voice is soft and steady as she starts to read aloud, a content smile on her face that’s echoed by the boy lying beside her when she settles against his side, head pillowed on the arm he curls around her shoulders without a thought. JJ’s the near perfect listener, only snickering once or twice at her total butchering of some of the more difficult Greek names (how come she can say Hephaestus just fine but gets tripped up on Dionysus?) but otherwise hanging off her every word and the relaxed ease with which he runs his hand through the ends of her damp hair fills her with a warmth, a happiness that she can’t describe but never wants to stop.

Hidden away from the rest of the world, curled up together on her bed, they forget the day’s past horrors and replace them with bright hopes for the future, exchanging comforting touches, deliberate yet played off as unintentional, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp -a caress of knuckles here, a brush of a palm there- as she reads into the night, until the cloudy sky darkens to black and they’re both fighting off the languid pull of sleep.

“I think that’s enough for today.” He plucks the book from her hands without waiting for a response and marks their place with a gas station receipt she was using as a makeshift placeholder, and setting it on the beside drawer.

“It’s your turn to read tomorrow,” He takes her glasses off with gentle fingers as she speaks into what little space still exists between them (that’s not otherwise occupied by Binx), smiling at the slow graze of his thumb along her cheek and nestles further against his side. “I’m done botching the names of deities for a while.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Damn it, Sailor kind of hates it when he says that cause it makes her feel things that she’s not quite ready to think about yet. Thankfully, her blush is swallowed by the darkness as he turns off the light and settles down beside her, arm slung low over her waist; her hand carefully brushes against his bruised ribs over the old shirt he wears, ice pack long ago thawed and thrown somewhere onto the hardwood floor.

“How do these feel? Better?”

She feels JJ nod, his chin brushing the top of her head. “Much.” There’s a pause, long enough that she starts to feel like she’s about to nod off, then he whispers, “Thank you, Sail. I know I don’t say it enough.”

She takes a deep breath, fingers stilling on his side, “Because you don’t need to, J. Remember what I said earlier, in the bathroom?”  

He nods again but doesn’t reply, instead drawing circles on the small of her back, so she takes it as a cue to continue, “I care about you, okay? You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just...doing what feels right.”

After a beat, the arm she’s using as a pillow curls and pulls her tighter against him as he says quietly, almost shyly, “I care about you, too.”

The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle without either teenager noticing and the gentle pitter-patter against the roof casts a somnolent spell into the air, dazed and dreamy. It wraps around the pair, not unlike the way they wrap around each other, and slowly, easily, safely, they drift off as one.

-

let me know what you think!

taglist ❤: @jiaraendgame​ @hmsjiara​ @heavensalreadyheres​ @obxsummer​ @maysbanks​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @sunflowerbecca​ @obxlife​ @obx-adventures​ @sexualparkour​ @mortifiedposts​ @coltonparayyko​ @miawantsapuppy​ @jjmaybanky​

[darkhymns-fic]

You Can Watch Over Me

Velvet catches Eizen in the middle of a nightmare. It's familiar to her - and maybe that's the reason why she wants to stay?

Fandom: Tales of Berseria Characters/Pairing: Velvet Crowe/Eizen Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for thescarfinator from the @talesofsecretsanta2020​ event! I jumped on the chance to write about Velvet seeing Eizen having a nightmare and was excited to try writing them for the first time. Happy Holidays!

-

It was harder to sleep when on the ship. Not that sleep comes to Velvet all so easily.

It wasn’t surprising at all; the Lord of Calamity should not have pleasant dreams. So she dreamed of Seres, eyes shadowed by butterfly wings, with only the memory of her remaining.  Always upon waking, Velvet’s arm would twitch.

This time she woke up in the middle of the night, leaning against the bundles of ropes that littered the deck of the Van Eltia. It was rare for her to lay down and stay exposed. She always sat up, her arm poised just against her knee. Always on guard and ready to get to her feet. But no one was nearby. 

She felt trapped on this ship sometimes. 

Getting hungry again. She clenched her fist to satiate the feeling. She could probably nibble on a few rations to help, but the lack of taste sometimes only made it worse. 

Velvet stood up easily, having long gotten used to the swaying of the ship by now. The air was quiet, though she could hear the murmur of the few crew members still up and going about their night tasks. She had no idea on the maintenance of ships, and was disinterested in watching. The salt spray from the ocean was strong this evening, but it was better than being cooped up in-between walls. Might as well stay on deck.

Raising her head, the stars were bright and numerous. The moon overhead was full, the sight of it familiar, and she turned away quickly to pace across the wooden floorboards. Maybe she kept an eye out for any hint of a sneaky Magilou, or an ear out for some out-of-the-blue laughter from Rokurou, but none of them here. Just one or two crew members, who swiftly moved out of her way, mumbling something about finishing up tasks below deck.

With less distractions, that’s when she saw Eizen, standing at the very port of the ship.

From behind, Eizen appeared to be overlooking the horizon, arms crossed, the wind lifting up his coat like outstretched wings. She rolled her eyes. She was half-convinced he was standing like this for dramatic effect. Her blade rattling in its holster, she walked up to him. “Is it common for malakhim to pull an all-nighter?” she asked him.

Eizen didn’t answer her. He was motionless, arms still crossed, much more interested in that horizon then in acknowledging Velvet that she existed. 

That just pissed her off.

“Hey! I was talking to-” She marched up to him, just about to grab his shoulder when she finally went in front of him, catching the look on his face.

His eyes were closed. He breathed evenly, slowly.

He was asleep. And he was...standing up, while he was asleep. Velvet raised an eyebrow. So some people slept even more with their guard up than she did, it seemed. 

She would have just called it a night at this point, not admitting that she was disappointed in not getting to talk to him. He'd have just blabbed about those underground tunnels again, she reasoned with herself. Or maybe he’d once again invoke the Reaper’s Curse and have the floorboards beneath their feet rot, letting them both fall into the sea.

She would have done nothing, except she saw how his face was also in pain.

It was subtle, but she heard his fast-paced breathing, and saw the way his fingers gripped his arms. Whatever he was dreaming about, it wasn’t pleasant. A phenomenon that she was much too familiar with.

Best to steer clear, or maybe he’d do something stupid and strike at her while stuck in a nightmare. But Velvet found herself by his side, her arm reaching out to him. “Eizen,” she called out. Slowly, carefully.

Eizen’s head lowered. He grimaced. He was stuck. 

Velvet poised her hand just over his shoulder. It wasn’t coincidence that it was her daemon arm that was closer to him - just in case. “Eizen,” she called out again.

He only continued to struggle. “...Nn…” Eizen shook his head, then lowered it so much that his chin made contact with his chest. “…na…”

She felt the pressure of his malak artes, just enough. It alarmed her a bit. Would he cast a spell in his sleep? She could only imagine one outcome, and a sinking ship was not in her plans.

Velvet dared, finally gripping his shoulder, bandaged fingers holding onto him. “Eizen, wake up!”

Eizen snapped his eyes open, bright blue, the color emphasizing the sudden pallor of his skin. Like a fish out of water, Eizen looked around in confusion, mouth half-parted. It took him a few seconds to finally latch his gaze onto Velvet.

“What… Edna, she’s…” he started, still half-stuck in his dream. But him speaking that name seemed to make him finally find his focus. He uncrossed his arms, one hand reaching to press against his forehead. “Agh…Velvet, why are you here?”

“Well, you don’t sound particularly grateful,” she noted. Her hand lingered on his shoulder, finally letting it slip off. She had just been hungry, that was all.

Eizen looked confused at what she meant. Then the sea breeze picked up, making the white sails above them flutter, hitting the mast. He looked around, his hair shifting along with that breeze. “I just… didn’t expect you. Why are you still up? It’s late.”

“What I do in my spare time at night isn’t of any concern to you,” she retorted.

Eizen stared. “It does if you were just watching over me as I sleep.”

Velvet mentally stumbled at that, taking up a moment to devise her answer. “I was not watching you!” Of all the stupid things this man said! “You were just standing here, how would I have known that you sleep the same way a horse does?"

“Oh, I was…” Eizen looked around him again, realizing, and that was when he seemed to be the one embarrassed now. “It’s… a malak thing. Easy to regain energy this way.”

Velvet highly doubted. “I’ve never seen Laphicet do that.”

“Well, it’s an earth malak thing, to be specific.” Eizen coughed into his fist, still avoiding her eyes. “It’s good to feel steady, so standing is just a preferred option!"

“Really.” Velvet wasn’t going to keep questioning this, and honestly, on any regular occurrence, she would have just left him to do whatever he wanted. But the paleness of his skin hadn’t left, and his hands still shook, even if the motion was so minute. Probably no one else would have even noticed.

But Velvet’s eyes were sharp.

Eizen finally turned to her, seeing her gaze, then lowered his hand. “Thanks for shaking me awake.”

“That only took you ten minutes to finally say so, but you’re welcome.” There was a wooden bench just next to them, placed against the side of the ship, and Velvet took it, moving aside her long hair to lay against the surface. “So, what did you dream?”

She knew Eizen wouldn’t tell her right away, of course. “Nothing,” he said instead, his voice low. It didn’t hold any of the strength of the earth, the unyielding magnitude of it. It came out weak and exhausted. “It was nothing.”

Velvet stared at his back, at the metal plates affixed to his coat, catching the moonlight. She stared at the rips, running symmetrically just beneath his shoulders. “Are you just going to run from it?”

That had hit a nerve, somewhere deep in this man’s pride. Eizen continued looking up at the sky before he finally went to sit down with her, though it looked more like he tumbled backwards, his legs barely holding him up anymore.

Velvet blinked. Something about the way he acted was…familiar. Too much so. She wasn’t sure how much she liked that.

“I get these most nights,” he admitted, still avoiding her gaze. Eizen sighed, his chest moving inward as he did so. “It gets awkward if I sleep in the bunkers with everyone. So I usually just… stay out here.”

Guess that’s not surprising, she couldn’t help but think. Eizen had a pride she found foolish, one that would only worsen when he was around the likes of Rokurou. But there were other times when he was humbled, when he was suddenly much subdued then he first seemed. In a way, she found that aspect of him far more compelling.

She was thinking on that too much. She brought her knee up, laying her bandaged arm around it. Loose, white strips floated along with the breeze.

“Then what was it about? Did you dream yourself losing out on a winning bid for some old rusty vase?” It was barely an exaggeration. She had seen the malak actually tear up at the thought of missing out on some relic rumored to lie within a deserted island that the ship had passed by. The currents had been rough, making it impossible to land. Eizen had sulked for the rest of the trip. ("It was a priceless Kharlan painting from the Enlightenment era! You just wouldn't understand…")

Even as Velvet acted frustrated then, she still wouldn’t admit to herself that maybe the other’s weird sentiment with such things was a little endearing. Just a little.

She expected Eizen to either be annoyed at her words, or just plain confused. But what she got was exactly nothing. Eizen sat still, hands now gripping the other as he laid his arms on his knees. She wasn’t even sure if he heard her.

“I could handle that kind of dream,” Eizen finally spoke. “This was something else.”

“Part of the Reaper’s Curse?” she asked, only half-serious. The man could stub his toe and he’d blame it on the curse over his own foolishness.

“Maybe,” he simply said. Another pause, his jacket spread out on the wooden bench like an ocean full of pitch. “They only seemed to start ever since I left her.”

Her. The name he only half-said in sleep. “Edna,” Velvet said, but did so carefully.

But Eizen wasn’t like her, furious at hearing others spill out the name of his sibling. In fact, she saw him smile, even as it twisted along with his pale skin. “Edna should be safe and sound back home. That’s why I left her, so that she could be safe. No Reaper’s Curse to put her in danger. I stand by my decision.”

He pulled on his gloves, fidgeted more in those few minutes then she had ever seen him since he first joined their group. “But, most nights… I dream up something horrible happening to her. The sky swallowing her up, or a daemon fighting her.” He pressed his boot into the floor, as if trying to dig a hole right into it. If the wooden boards had been soil, he might as well have. “I dreamt her being shot, but instead of another malak, it was really her-“

Velvet reached out again, with that same bandaged arm. But she gripped his wrist gently. “Enough,” she warned. “You’ll get lost in it, if you keep going.”

Eizen shook, then stilled. He placed one fist into the palm of his hand, squeezing it tight. “Thought you said I was running from it.”

“You were, make no mistake,” Velvet quickly answered. “But if you face it the wrong way, you’ll only get trapped in it. You’ll be devoured.” She kept her hand where it was, feeling the tension pulling at him so tightly. “Funny, usually you’re the one giving out all the tired, cliched advice.”

The laughter that came from Eizen built something inside her chest that she dared not name. She was just sleep-deprived, like he was right now. Just two people in the middle of the night, unable to swallow their fears. “Maybe you’re right. You’re not usually this patient with people, except perhaps Laphicet.”

The night breeze blew her hair away from her neck. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. She had said the name of his sibling, it’s only fair he could say the name of hers. (But he’s not Laphi). She put down those other intruding thoughts for now.

“You just can’t let it distract you from what is real and important.” She finally let his wrist go, seeing how his eyes followed along her motion. Did he expect her to do anything else? “But, if you’ve had these dreams for that long, you probably already know that.”

Eizen took another breath, but his voice was stronger, firmer. No longer stuck. “Guess that’s true. But, it’s nice hearing someone else say it.”

“Even if that someone is a daemon?” she asked, maybe too genuine in her question.

“There’s a reason why you are what you are, and it’s made you stronger for it.” Eizen finally looked at her, his cheeks now full of color. For a so-called Reaper, he seemed to have more life in him now. “Because you get it too.”

The acknowledgement might have hit too deep. She turned away, eyes rapt onto the stars. “I do, and you’ll keep quiet about that.”

“Heh, fair enough.”

The easy acceptance Eizen took of the situation also surprised her. Her chest tightened. Again, she was just hungry. They’ve been stuck on this ship for weeks, and while ocean deamons sometimes appeared, it wasn’t enough to completely sate her arm.

“Have you ever fallen overboard?” she asked suddenly.

The look of pure confusion on Eizen’s face amused her greatly. “What? Uh… perhaps a few times actually. I don’t remember how though. Usually it’s at night when…” He paused in realization.

“You know, it'd be good if you get someone to watch over you as you sleep, or you’ll keep breaking the Van Eltia more than sailing it.” How he’d been able to deal with it, she had no clue. But the man was as stubborn as the very earth he hailed from.

“Right…” Eizen coughed, his embarrassment once again so plain on his face. “Now Aifread’s complaints back then… make a lot more sense.”

“Men like you and him need more sense ,” she spit out.

“If that’s the case… are you saying you’ll offer to watch over me?”

The smile she saw on his face was stupid and ridiculous on him. Velvet turned away more, hugging her knee close to her chest, not caring whether any of the belts or leather was pricking into her skin. “I did plenty enough. It’s ruining what little sleep I can get tonight.”

“Fine, then I’ll do the same for you.” Eizen sat back with her, just near enough for their shoulders to touch. The man was surprisingly bold. “As my way of repaying you.”

“Huh.” Velvet scoffed, clenching her bandaged fist before looking over at Eizen, his face nearly impassive now. “You’re serious.”

“It only makes sense, doesn’t it?” He shrugged. “Besides, I’m not sure I can go back to sleep tonight.”

“So, the Reaper wants to watch over me at my most vulnerable?” She eyed him. “Will I even make it through the night?”

“I think, being the Lord of Calamity and all, your misfortunes offset my own.” He shrugged. “We can put it to the test.”

It just all sounded like an incredibly far-reaching excuse to her, but Velvet somehow couldn’t find it in her to say no.

“Just no sudden movements,” she told him as she laid back against the rim of the ship. The swaying of the ocean waves felt comforting, more so in evenings. The sky was open, gave her more to look at than in all the years she had been locked away. “This arm bites, you know.”

Eizen smirked, but he nodded. “Got it then.”

Velvet couldn’t believe she was allowing this, but she really did feel so fatigued. With no daemons to nourish her, she could only feel how heavy her body was. Velvet gazed up at the sky, tracing the constellations that she had missed, then shut her eyes. Eizen was still near, enough that she could feel his body heat.

I shouldn’t fall for this, she thought before sleep took hold. But maybe it was nice to let down her guard, at least for a while.

-

The dream is the same. Seres again, in the white void, eyes completely covered. And over her neck, the black marks of someone’s fingers that had strangled her.

Velvet felt her arm burn, clutched it to her chest. “I can’t forget,” she said.

“You won’t ever forget,” Seres said to her, in a voice that was so painful in its familiarity. It pierced her as sharply as when she would plunge her blade into the quivering body of a beast. “And you can’t regret.”

“I don’t… I shouldn’t!” Velvet gritted her teeth. Her arm became malformed, an array of black that ran with so much red, pulsing like magma beneath the earth. “You offered yourself to me! I needed to live! I don’t care who stands in my way-!”

She reached out with her arm, to grab Seres again, to devour her again. But in her grip, it was a young boy instead. She had already squeezed tight before he vanished, lost forever, again, again, again-

Velvet woke up, gasping for air. But a hand kept her steady, strong and firm.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Eizen was speaking, even though it sounded so far off. “A nightmare, that’s it.”

Velvet heard it, denied it with all her heart.

“No… it’s more than that.” She gritted her teeth, shook in his hold. “I watched him die! Again…” The guilt clawed its way into her throat, and all she could do was let it fester. “Always, again. You don’t understand.”

Eizen had no words, and for once, she regretted something just now. She didn’t mean for it to slip past. But she shook, and her arm still hurt. She curled in on herself, and felt those same arms hold her close.

“You’re right, I don’t,” Eizen was saying. His words were barely above a whisper, yet they felt rough against her hair. “And I hope I never will.”

I hope that too, she thought, shutting her eyes tight. Always on guard, but she wanted to let herself go, for one short moment. The steadiness of Eizen was comforting. Maybe, even after everything she’d done, she could be allowed to have this.