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jolenes-doppelganger · 7 days ago

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Sweet Dreams

Selkie Jenny Lind x Fem! Acrobat Reader

Summary: A chance encounter on a blurry English morning leads to the stolen moment with a siren with the soul of the sea. Years and many miseries later, the jaded acrobat finds companionship in an all too familiar song.

Warnings: Melancholic circumstances, Barnum is a historically accurate cunt, reader almost prostitutes herself, allusions to domestic violence against Jenny, the circus is a miserable place

Word Count: 6.6k

A/N: This is for you, P. Sweet dreams!

Act 0- The Fool

The sand on the Welsh coast wasn’t soft and coarse like the beaches you’d been to before. It was rocky, the stones smooth and flat, the kind you could skip over the dark grey-green waves. Wind gushed against your cheek, cutting sharply with the winter cold. The waves were high, upset with the storm that raged throughout the endless sea. Right now the tide was inching out, revealing some sandier patches of beach as the water surrendered its dominion. It wasn’t the safest to be out here tonight, but the sky was clear and you reasoned the tide far back enough that you wouldn’t get caught. In the moonlight that shone so bright overhead, you could make out all of the shadows of the large boulders. Some shadows seemed ominous, making grotesque faces. Others were more subtle.

Are there whales in Wales? You’d dumbly asked the circus coordinator, P.T. Barnum. He’d shaken his head. There wouldn’t be time to see the whales, no time for boat rides or long walks. Except a storm had grounded you here, stuck in a tiny village on the way through to England. Even steamboats couldn’t ride out the harsh storms that made winter here so miserable. You kicked at the rocks around your feet, watching the skid up and over each other, crawling and shuddering out of the place they’d been in when the tide had moved them last. None of it would be permanent, and that soothed your temperamental soul. It was like a dream; shifting and indeterminable.

The wind whipped around you and through you, clawing your blouse open. Pulling over your coat, you found the chill greatly diminished, but still the cold air bit at your nose and ears, reminding you of the true power of an ocean so stirred. White foam clung to the exposed beach, proof of the life that the ocean greedily gulped away with the rest of the water. As you walked further along the shore your eye caught long stretches of green, clumps of seaweed coughed up by the calming ocean. It was all very dim here, hours before dawn. You could see the faintest blue peeking out above the water, the promise of a later sun bright in the sky.

But the seaweed and foam wasn’t the only thing the ocean had released from her bosom. A song, faint and sweet sailed over the wind, kissing the hairs that trembled by your ear in the wind. It lingered. First in your mind, and then slowly worked its way into your bones. A melody so unforgettable it would surely play in the dull moments of thoughtlessness. Again you got the sinking, strange feeling that this could be a dream. That this was mystical, hallowed ground, the kind that swallowed a person up and spat them back out changed. You saw her then, dark hair whipping in the wind. The faintest copper tinge that betrayed more color than the grey atmosphere around. Pale skin, exposed so carelessly to the winter wind glimmered under the slow dawn. Your footsteps didn’t seem to startle this spirit of the sea, rather she seemed to sing softer as you drew closer, the song more intimate.

Warnings of faeries and spirits clamoured dimly in your mind, none of them ringing louder than the gentle tones of her song. Why would one fear a spirit if it was just a dream?

Even as you stood an arms-reach away, she didn’t stop singing. The waves blended seamlessly with her voice, lulling you deeper into her song-induced trance. She turned, staring up at you with the softest blue-grey-green eyes you swore you’d seen before in a long forgotten dream. The grey pelt that protected her skin from the wind was spotted, the same pattern you’d seen on the seals that lounged on the beach in mid-afternoon times. Even as you drew closer she was unafraid, the two of you settled together on that big rock. Your speech was quick, blending together quickly, like all dream speech.

“You’re a siren.” you whispered, taking in the curve of her nose, her jaw as she stared out into the awakening light of early morn.

“No. A selkie.” she murmured. “They call me Jenny Lind.” she said, an accent so unfamiliar you couldn’t place it.

“Are you an Irish selkie?” you whispered, reaching out to play with the soft red tendrils of her hair.

She shook her head, damp curls shaking in the breeze.

“I’m from a northern coast far, far away from here.” she whispered, a secret for your ears only. “I don’t know its name, not for your foreign ears. Sverige, the land of the Svea. That’s where I’m from.”

Your cold hands found hers, tangled in the pelt of her discarded mammal form. And her hands were warm. She radiated warmth, an immunity to the biting chill that crept in, even through your thick coat. Jenny, as she was called, leaned against you, a curiosity and interest flickering in her eyes. The two of you stayed silent for a while, both fighting the initial awkwardness of a meeting so tender and… Foggy.

“You sing beautifully.” you whispered, leaning in enough to trace the freckles that dotted her hands and forearms.

“It is a love song. Meant to lure only the good. Your soul heard it before your ears did, I’ve been singing for you since the tide began to recede.”

Her eyes sparkled, a shy smile overcoming her as she leaned in closer. Her nose crested against yours, a greeting. You repeated it, clumsily knocking the bridge of your nose against hers. She laughed, a pleased glee slipping over her face. She stood at once, playful and energetic as she pulled you towards a crevice in the jagged hills. You followed her, tripping over rocks in your boots even as her bare feet danced over the stones with a pixie grace. In the ridged opening of the cave you stumbled, pulled deeper into the unassuming cave. It smelled damp, but clean. As your eyes adjusted the dimmer light, you could make out the faintest glow. She pulled you further inside, into a bed of sea grass. It all happened so fast you weren’t sure if happened, or if this was happening now.

In the darkness of that secluded chamber you heard her song again, soft and tender, pulling you closer, deeper into the embrace now freely given. She was everywhere and anywhere, hands floating in and away like the wind that whipped outside. Jenny tasted like the sea, the salt of the breeze, and the warmth of the sun-warmed rocks. She was soft, smooth like the stones of the beach, warm everywhere as she enveloped you and released you like the tide. Breaths in and out, regular and sometimes desperate; shared gasps for only your ears. As you slowed your affair, she grew quiet. Snuffling around in the dark, the two of you found a quiet embrace. As dawn crept over the sky she sang once more, a quiet lullaby so gentle and deceptive, lulling you asleep.

Only when the sun burst through the cave at midday did you wake, seabirds screeching and careening through the frigid air as the tide crept over the beach once more. You awoke with a start, reaching across the seabed for your lover, for your Jenny. She was gone, and with her the smell of salt and sunshine. The beach was empty, devoid of any song, any trace of the seals that had barked and rolled about in the waves days prior. She was gone, your Jenny. Gone with the tide, with the storms that had washed her in, the winter fit that had taken your love, your innocent amour. As the group toured, crossing oceans, exploring venues, dancing across various European stages, you remained trapped in that midwinter dream, coughing up phlegm and crying for anyone and everything to hear.

“Where’s my Jenny Lind?”

Act I- The Magician

Trapped in another alcoholic haze you dreamt. The same grey beach, the same siren song that never left your ears. Again and again the melody played, the lullaby that would linger until you were dead. Initially, the alcohol had killed whatever haunted reimaginings of that night, along with whatever dreams dared to tremble through your grief-stricken head. She was there. Always at the ends of your fingertips, never close enough to grasp, to touch. Your hands would find her hair, touching the reddish-brown strands in the dim light. Again your spectre would turn, her face always too blurred by the dim light to identify. Just as her features seemed to take distinct shape, just as you’d get closer, your circumstances would end your dream, prolonging the torment once more.

But life wasn’t like that foggy night, in between reality and vision.

“Wake up, kid.” a gruff shove knocking you off of the box you’d passed out on.

An equally tired, abused face stared down at you, enough to have you shuddering awake. Work never stopped. Not when you were being exploited by the ever tyrannical Barnum. You coughed twice, feeling your stomach lurch alarmingly.

“I’m up.” you eventually managed, pushing yourself off of the ground. “The show never stops, I know.”

Your eyes struggled to take in your surroundings, but your nose immediately picked up the smell of excrement. The animals were restless this morning, clamoring for food, water, attention and always freedom. You felt bad for them, throwing the monkeys an extra handful of apricots. Not that they would be any good, Barnum never bought food to the quality they deserved. Elephants were next, and to your dismay you were met with a cage full of hot, steaming crap. The joys of the circus. The smell was enough to trigger the bile in your stomach, and your upset mixed with the waste you shoveled into a wheelbarrow.

“Hey, my bird of paradise!” a baritone greeting slammed through your throbbing head. It almost knocked you off your feet with the way your bones seemed to ache. Hangovers; god’s gift to alcoholics.

“Fuck,” you swore under your breath, “Good morning Mr. Barnum!”

He was in a good mood, of course.

“I need you on stage tonight. One of the acrobats is ill.” he sighed.

“Sure.” you nodded, not even bothering to beg your personal circumstances.

Alcoholism was a sickness that was rampant in Barnum’s circus. It was debilitating, contagious, and easy to exploit. Give a man his wages, buy cheap spirits in bulk, take back those wages for alcohol without limit. Everyone had ghosts here, things they wanted to forget. Yours was named Jenny, but Grace, Thomas, Penelope, Sam and a dozen more lingered here as the night crept over the sky like a diseased bearer of melancholy. You wondered if the animals had ghosts too. An elephant trumpeted mournfully, answering that thought.

“I’m investigating a new edition to our troop. A Swedish gal, sings like the legends of old. She’d be perfect for high brow events.” Barnum mused.

“Swedish? Hmm. How’d she end up here anyways?” you asked, half-listening.

“Oh, she’s an immigrant. Came with her husband to Maine a few weeks ago. She sings out of her window, her husband is… A piece of work.” Barnum sighed.

Your eyebrows flew up in alarm, and you gave him your full attention. Barnum wasn’t exactly father or husband of the year, so such a comment as that coming from him… Immediate pity was what you felt for this poor woman. Sure, the circus was a hard life, but all kinds of people escaped here from harder circumstances.

“So what’s the plan? We buy him a dozen rounds and steal her away?” you asked.

“See, that’s why I need you performing tonight. He likes pretty things, comes to visit when lady acrobats are on display. I need you in the red costume. I know you hate it, but I need his butt in the seat the entire night. I’m giving him a free ticket, but still.”

You nodded along to that. The red costume was awful to wear. Mostly sheer, showing off an amount of skin that the Virgin Mary never dared to show Joseph. It brought jeering, whistles… It was a nightmare, hence your hatred for it.

“Well. If it’s for the liberation of women I’ll consent to it.” you sighed. “Viva la revolution and all.”

“Wonderful!” Barnum beamed, expression darkening as he leaned in. “But bathe before then. Full body, use the special lotions and soaps. If things go sideways I need you cozying up to our guy after the show.”

Again, you begrudgingly agreed. It was for a good cause, and a bath with the special soap was a treat indeed. Expensive french lavender, the kind with a smell that lingered in the air minutes after you left. Leaving the shovel embedded in a pile of dung, you travelled to Nellie’s trailer. You had a performance to prepare for, two performances. A person had to earn their wages, after all.

{-----------}

Corny circus music blared long into the night, and your arms ached as you prepared for the fifteenth trick of the night. A big breath of air in, a jump, and the smack of your chalked palms against the aerial hoop. You spun, careening and flying like a bird of paradise as you posed inside the hoop. The roar of the audience didn’t excite you like it once had. Sure, it still exhilarated you to hear them gasp in awe as you flipped and grasped hands with your fellow acrobats, but the haunting song of the hidden woman blurred and dulled the high you’d chased for so many years. As the final act came to close, your eyes caught Barnum’s. He gestured you forwards, and you curtsied as he bowed, the audience crying out their final praise. Your whole body ached, and you longed for a nightcap and a warm bed, but Barnum had other plans.

“It’s taking longer than we thought. I need you to distract our guy.” Barnum whispered into your ear as he pulled you towards a man with dark hair and a hard-set jaw. “Norman, did you enjoy the show?”

The man’s eyes bugged out as you approached, and he adjusted his coveralls.

“Yes. I’ve never seen a fairy so brilliantly confined in a performance such as this.” he spoke, accent thick, distinctly nordic.

You smiled, offering him your hand.

“Oh, you flatter me.” you smiled, analyzing the brute up close. “I’m pleased that you enjoyed our show tonight, any special guest of Barnum’s is a guest of mine.”

The honey you were pouring on him was all Barnum needed, and with a not-so sly hint that you should explore the backstage set up, you led the poor bastard into a prop tent, mindlessly chattering about costumes, animals, anything you thought would dazzle him.

“This is all very nice. I must be going home, my wife is lonely.” Norman insisted.

Your charms weren’t enough, it seemed. This was the part of dealing with men you hated. Words rarely worked, sweet talk was so difficult to pull off when you felt like hitting him rather than kissing up. But men didn’t truly care how much you liked them if you were showing skin.

“Well, if you must be going.” you shrugged, taking your head piece out and slowly letting your hair down.

If your words couldn’t keep him here, your body certainly could. Norman watched transfixed as you removed the stage makeup then as you pulled off the costume piece, clad only in a red leotard. You met his eyes very briefly as you stepped behind a thin partition, throwing your tights and leotard over the top of it as proof you were indeed naked. A dressing robe was what you returned in, and the promise of your nakedness made his eyes burn. That assumption, the hidden nature of the dressing room gave him all the security he needed to do what he did next. Men were brutes, and you wish you were shocked when he lunged forwards, meaty paws encircling your hips, breath hot on your neck. You didn’t want to have to bargain with your body, but this wasn’t about you. This was about distraction, about keeping him intrigued enough to stay. For better or worse you had his full attention.

“You’re not a fairy, you’re a siren, using your charms to seduce an honest man.” Norman gruffly spoke against your neck.

“An honest man would never come so close to the fantastical. Not if he truly believed it was a con.” you whispered, tone wavering in fear.

The threat of rape wasn’t uncommon in the circus. Generally you steered clear of men after shows, going with friends to ensure your safety. But this was different. This man didn’t have the morality to consider consent a true worry when a pretty woman was this close, and in his eyes, begging for it. A hand slid up, pawing, trying to tug free the double knotted fabric belt of the robe. Your ears rang, you were shaking, you couldn’t get out the words to tell him to stop. But it was timing, the silver-tongued devil Barnum determined to give this abuser nothing but a hard wake up call that brought an end to this assault. The crack of Barnum’s gloved hand slapping down on Norman’s shoulder with enough force for the man to release you without delay, startling you in the process. You didn’t meet the ring leader’s eyes, covering yourself as best as you could. It was Barnum that put himself in between Norman and you, Barnum who used his height to grab the shorter man by the neck in a gesture both threatening and casual.

“Norman, I’d say it’s about time for you to return to your lovely wife.” Barnum grinned, too-white teeth bared in what could be a scowl.

As Norman was led out of the small tent, you returned behind the partition, pulling on familiar trousers and a loose blouse. Still you couldn’t get in enough air, but tears, hysterics would buy you no sympathy. Bigger things were afoot. As you walked back towards Barnum, you gave no hint of how shaken you had been. Prostitution wasn’t uncommon here, especially among the acrobats. Barnum never sold his women, not like a pimp or a brothel mistress. But he didn’t exactly protect them from men too excited to keep their hands, and their dicks out of their way. Perhaps it was his hatred of the man, the moral stipulation he carried against hurting women that had saved you. Up until now you’d managed to escape the rape, the sexual slavery some of the elder veterans had experienced. Tonight you’d come too close, and tonight you’d been saved again by a man both resented and revered among your bunch.

“Well done. We’ve got our girl, and the trunk she was so desperate about.” Barnum sighed. “That’s what took so long, locating a damn trunk. Porter said she refused to leave without it, the fucking diva.”

You flinched at his tone. Barnum was never happy for long, not if he wasn’t close to a whiskey bottle. His tone hurt a little more, being as emotionally vulnerable as you were.

“Well, I’ll pay her my respects.” you sighed.

“You might want to do it sooner than later. Porter said she came in with a bruised face and a fractured arm. Our nordic gentleman appears to be quite the lady’s man.” Barnum commented dryly.

“So she isn’t going to be singing anytime soon?” you inferred, the cause of his foul mood clearer now.

“Not until her face fades enough for the paste to cover it up. I want to debut her in New York. I can’t do that if her arm’s in a sling and a purple stain over her blue eyes.”

You nodded along, running a hand through your loose hair. He was slowly getting out of his temper.

“Well. The community will help her find her voice soon enough. Send my hello to the Mrs.” you nodded your head, ending the conversation before his personal temper could show.

“Send my hello to your dream Jenny.” he cruelly fired back.

You flinched, walking away before he had the personal joy of watching your face fall. How were you to know when he was or wasn’t fighting with his wife? How were you supposed to do more for a man that was never satisfied?

As you walked past the trailers sprawled out on the half-frozen grass, you glanced at Nellie’s trailer, noting the soft glow from within. You approached, intending to introduce yourself to the new troop member, pausing at the door as you heard hushed voices. Softer crying. She wasn’t ready for a new face, you knew that. Not tonight, not when the threat of her husband hung over her head, staining her hope like bruised blood vessels stained her face. A part of you was relieved. All your life you would never, ever tell her what you’d paid for to grant her your freedom. And you’d never tell another.

Act II- The High Priestess

The new ward, Jane Karlsson, was a shut-in. She practiced her songs while the circus goers practiced their acts. None except Nellie saw her regularly which meant that first introduction stretched further into the future. Barnum grew impatient, Nellie’s pleas for more time grew less effective. Alcohol lost its effectiveness. You didn’t bother with Barnum’s stash, none of it was any good. You drafted up new routines as the insomnia soberness produced left you awake until the final hours of night. Over the net you worked, stressing your body into exhaustion, the kind of tiredness that gave you dreamless sleep.

Tonight was no different, pushing your body to the limit until you missed the bar, falling straight down. The falling was always bittersweet. The familiar terror as you realized you were falling, followed by the brief relief as you made peace with a death that never seemed close enough. The net would always catch you, shuddering as it saved your life, prolonging your misery for another night. You lay there, panting and boneless, almost tempted to fall asleep right there. It would be better than another night alone in the old mess trailer you’d made home.

“...That was impressive.” an unfamiliar voice murmured, stirring you from your trance.

You sat up, looking at a face you weren’t sure was familiar. You saw a lot of faces after all, and sometimes they blended together. What was interesting about this one was that half of her face was purple, and it tipped you off to her identity.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, making conversation.

“I walk until I get tired enough to sleep without dreaming.” she admitted. “I’m Jane, by the way.”

She seemed sweet, well meaning. Her arms was still wrapped up, and she covered the bruise with her hair, but Jane was still pretty. Red hair, blue eyes. A nice face, and a good person behind it, you decided.

“It’s nice to finally meet your acquaintance. I’m-”

“I know who you are. I watch you sometimes. You’re always too focused on the bars to see me. It’s mesmerizing to watch.” she answered quickly, as if trying to prevent the awkwardness that could come if you had known she watched.

You caught her accent, the same nordic muddle that Norman had spoken in. You had heard it so rarely as to have an inkling of a concept of its true origin. It made sense that she watched you then, you thought. The people she’d come from were either awful voyeurs or didn’t get out much.

“Barnum said you’re from Sweden.” you smiled, not unkindly.

“Originally, yes.” she nodded. “I came here with my husband four years ago. Before that I travelled the sea.” Jane sighed.

Your eyebrows went up in surprise. You wouldn’t have guessed that upbringing from her reserved demeanor, but it made for the perfect origin story. A sailor, and then a circus performer.

“A sailor?” you chuckled, “That’s where you get your songs?”

A secret, sad smile bent over Jane’s face, and she shrugged in a way that tugged at your memory. An uncomfortable deja vu, one that sometimes appeared with exhaustion. You didn’t think much of it, or her.

“Yes. I was a sailor.”

Sitting up from the safety net, you yawned, cupping your sleepy face.

“Well, Jane, I think I’ll be heading back to my trailer. I’m sufficiently exhausted.”

Jane hummed, following you out of the tent. You could feel her questioning stare on you as you drew further and further away. And as you laid down on your cot, the dreams of Jenny, the ones that never ended well left you alone. But a song, a lullaby that felt woven into the very night remained, the melody long forgotten by the time you woke, as it always was. But the feeling it evoked, that uncomfortable reminiscence in between awareness and preconsciousness echoed.

{-----------}

Breakfast was calm. The usual jokes flew around, and the same low quality sourced, high quality cooked food was served. In your half-asleep state, you didn’t recognize the change in mood, the utter silence until your eyes met several shocked faces. But they weren’t looking at you. Next to you was more accurate. You turned, and for a moment you swore you were about to remember exactly where those blue eyes came from. The sureness of recognition hit you square in the chest, knocking the breath out of your lungs only for that almost answer to slip away again. But it wasn’t those eyes. It was just the newbie.

“Good morning Jane.” you cleared your throat, shaking your head and looking away to hide whatever dumb expression must’ve overtaken your face for a few seconds.

“Morning.” she murmured, quietly eating next to you. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost.” she said quietly.

One of the longtime circus members, Matthias chuckled, eager for a jest.

“It’s not her fault. She went out to the beach during a storm, came back soaked to the bone. The pneumonia she caught cooked her brain a little, that’s what the doctor said.” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes at his rude comment, hurling an orange rind at him. Leave it to the jokester to use your most painful memories as conversation starters.

“It did not. That was nearly five years ago. I’m fully recovered from whatever it was that did me over.” you replied, staring him hard in his beady little eyes.

Jane grew quiet at this, a peculiar expression coming over her face. The damage was already done, Matthias had said enough to ignite her curiosity, and now you were forced into telling your woe.

“Which beach?” she asked.

“I don’t remember. The pneumonia wiped my mind of that entire troop season.” you shrugged. “I was sick for half of it, half-lucid for the other half.”

“Like I said, it cooked her brain.” Matthias interjected again. “It was when we were in Europe, visited the Queen, saw Paris and Berlin. She didn’t, she was in a cot, but you get the gist.”

Jane nodded, but she wasn’t willing to let the topic die.

“Did you ever stop by the Welsh coast?” she quietly asked again.

This conversation was unpleasant, awkward. It felt like an interrogation, and your lack of sleep was starting to wear on your patience.

“Jane, I’m sorry I don’t remember.” you sighed, rubbing your temple. “No matter how you ask me where I was when I got sick, I can’t tell you. I have one single token from that time period, and it’s just a recurring nightmare-”

The following words died in your throat, and you shook your head, signaling the end of whatever monstrous life misery you were about to deliver on the newest member of Barnum’s troop of the tormented. Matthias saved you, as he usually did, moving on to playfully jest with a sword eater. By the time your plate was clear, a sickening grief had clawed its way into your throat, holding your tongue hostage, your lips captive.

Five years ago you’d gone to a beach in the middle of the night. Nobody remembered where and you’d never bothered trying to stay on Barnum’s good side long enough to ask to see the records. The story was simple. You left in the middle of the night and came back at noon soaked to the bone and babbling a name none of them could make sense of.

Jenny. My Jenny Lind, where is she? My Jenny of the sea, where’d she go?

It was assumed you’d just gone mad from the cold, the pneumonia that came overnight manifesting in a distress of the mind that remained up until now. And the nightmares of course. Those you knew all too well.

It was your rest day, the day where you spent tending to the animals and generally trying not to think about the missing memories Jane had so effortlessly drawn a finger to. You didn’t feel any real resentment, she was only curious. It might’ve been a conversation starter, perhaps she’d been wondering if she had seen the troop somewhere on a dock. Jane was a sailor once upon a time after all, but you doubted it was of any importance.

With the freedom of the day came the opportunity to walk along the empty caravans as the troop set up for a show. At the peak of the show, as the audience cheered, you drew closer to Nellie’s trailer. It wasn’t curiosity, it was a song burrowing out of the wooden planks and into the night air. The softest melody, notes perfectly polished, drifting in an aria that was… Masterful. You drew closer, staring through the open window at Jane’s silhouette. Her red hair was loose down her back and she was dressed in a soft blue dress, worn and patched in a few places. You listened, eyes shutting as the tone soothed the unkempt question mark of your wounded psyche.

The song lingered long after it ended. Long enough for you to be surprised when the door swung open. Jane peered down at you, expression amused. Not a word worked it’s way past your lips, not when she stared down at you with that tiny smirk.

“Spying on me? Shouldn’t you be in the ring right now?”

Smiling nervously, you cleared your throat, feeling silly in your slacks and men’s button down. It was comfortable, but so out of place when you stared at Jane’s pretty blue dress.

“Just repaying your late night voyeurism.”

Jane smiled widely, gesturing you in. Returning that same grin, you entered Nellie’s trailer, sitting on the familiar floral couch as she adjusted her music sheets.

“I almost have my set list nailed down, but I can’t decide between the aria you just heard or a personal piece.”

“A personal piece? Original song?” you asked, surprised by her musical diversity.

“Well. It’s a song I learned as a child. It isn’t new, but I’m sure it is new to American ears. The only issue is there is no orchestral arrangement. I’d have to arrange it, or sing it acapella.”

“Well, let’s hear it.” you smiled.

Jane took a deep breath in. A song erupted from her lips, haunting and soft, lingering in your bones and in your soul in an eerily familiar way. It was beautiful, and for a moment you swore you were sitting on a warm, dry bed, the breath of another on your ear as light faded in…

The room was so still, and you swore it still echoed with her voice, the timbre falling and working its way into the fabric of the couch cushions, the glued paper of the wall.

“You have a beautiful voice.” you managed, still struggling to shake yourself from the dream spell she’d brought you into.

“... That’s all?” Jane asked, expression unreadable.

“No, no. La petite mort. I get it sometimes, randomly. And you have the voice that stirs my dead memory. It’s beautiful.” you nodded, hoping it was more of an adequate compliment. “Definitely include it in your performance.

The room went quiet, and the stillness was a bit uncomfortable. Jane seemed lost in frustrated thought, and you figured she wanted her time alone to practice once more. Standing on legs just a little too wobbly, you made in the direction of the door.

“Wait, stay for tea?” Jane asked, attention snapping back to you. “I feel like we’ve never had a proper introduction.”

Her expression was hopeful, the sullen silence that had followed your commentary gone. You supposed it was a performer’s perfection, anxious that there wasn’t something more constructive to be said about her performance. There was no need to take offense, especially when she was so kindly offering tea; from Nelly’s cupboard no less.

“I’d be honored.” you smiled, settling back on Nellie’s couch.

Watching her mill about in Nellie’s kitchen was comforting. She wasn’t in her element per se, but she looked relaxed. The faded china tea pot and cups she set on the weathered coffee stool were a nice touch to the ambiance. Jenny smelled like the good lavender soap, the kind Nellie almost never gave anyone, lest her signature scent be stolen by another. But the soft spot she had for Jane was obvious.

“Are you intending to live with Nellie from now on?” you asked, noting her mild trepidation at beginning a real conversation.

Jane shook her head, taking a breath in.

“No. I want to move in with someone else. She’s overbearing, and…”

You let her sentence die, picking the conversation back up when she’d only just managed to lose it entirely.

“My trailer has a vacancy. If you’re willing to share, that is.”

Jane smiled softly, cocking her head coyly. There was an amused glint in her eyes, like she knew something you didn’t. It unnerved you, almost as much as her nonchalant answer.

“I’ll think about it.”

As you left her trailer, you felt her gaze linger. But this time you were brave enough to turn around. She shut the curtains before you managed to wave goodbye. What did she know that you didn’t?

Act III- The Empress

Sickness swept through the troop like a passing storm. First the children caught it, coughing and hacking everywhere, followed by the older men and women. Barnum grounded the troop to camp somewhere in Massachusetts. The young people, a group that made up about half of the circus, caught it intermittently. There was no danger in a small case of winter cough, not for the adults. But young children and the more alcoholic veterans had it bad. Beds were laid out in the biggest trailer, the sick temporarily quarantined from the well. Someone had to take care of them. It was taking care of a couple of sick kids and an alcoholic or shoveling animal poop.

“Maise hold still.” you quietly begged the squirming toddler, running nose and teary eyes leaking in between hoarse coughs.

She wouldn’t still, crying for her mother who was taking a moment to simply rest. No matter how you pleaded, promising her the best pick of toys, even sweets, the little girl wouldn’t quiet. Maise hollered on, disturbing the two other children and One-Eyed Pete laying in the other beds. The urge to shake her, to make her quiet was insufferably difficult to suppress, frustrated tears pricking at her eyes. If she would just quiet, be still for two seconds. You did the next best thing, muffling her sobs and coughs into the front of your blouse as you breathed in and out, reminding yourself of the need for good rest, rest you hadn’t gotten in days.

“Alright, Birdie, my Mrs is waiting for me.” Paul groaned, leaving his post at his appointed time.

You stared at him in shock and frustration as he left two whining boys, a hacking old man begging for water and a disquieted toddler to you. Abandoning you just when you needed the most help. You shut your eyes, succumbing to a few exhausted sobs as he left you to fend for yourself without assistance. The second time the trailer door swung open you didn’t bother to keep your tongue still.

“If you’re just going to stand there like an oaf you can just get the fuck out! You’re no damn help anyway.” you cussed, assuming Paul had turned back as the hysterics in the trailer grew to a fever pitch.

Through your teary, exhausted eyes, you could make out the startled face of Jane, an apron around her waist and a bonnet holding her red hair back.

“No… I came to help.” she said quietly, moving forwards regardless of your outburst.

She took the wailing Maise out of your arms, giving you the chance to tend to One-Eyed Pete.

You took a moment, catching your breath, turning away from her. You wiped your eyes and went about tending the hollering old man. Propping him up, you wiped your tears on your sleeve, too ashamed to meet Jane’s eyes as you gave the old man water. Out of the corner of your eye you watched as she rounded up the children into their cot, quietly shushing and soothing them in her soft contralto.

“Now stay very still for me. You can’t listen to the song if you’re wiggling around.” you heard her coax.

All three children obeyed. Perplexed and amazed by her technique you watched as she leaned in, and the softest lullaby you’d ever heard spun out like a web from her lips. It soothed the children, and their eyelids closed, all three slowly settling into the bed, blinking slower, and slower… A nostalgia slipped through your bones, an image of waves, of soft murmurs and the feel of silk fur beneath your fingers came back. For a moment you could taste the salt, hear the waves, like a long forgotten memory. All three children were quiet, sleeping soundly. And you were left grasping for memory, trailing after the threads that still lingered and desperately attempting to put it all back together.

The room was silent. Your periods of spacing out, periods of listlessness kept getting worse. And now Jane was noticing.

“... You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Jane said softly, turning to look at you as she tucked a stray strand of red hair back into her bonnet.

You shook your head hard, standing up. There was a pit of something in your stomach that felt an awful lot like grief.

“It’s… Listen. What Matthias said about the pneumonia cooking my brain, he wasn’t wrong. I struggle with concentration, I space out, and I can go days without sleeping only to pass out mid routine.” you spoke softly, cheeks flushing shamelessly. “Everyone has issues sleeping here, unless you’re sixty or below the age of say 12. But I can’t sleep because I get these dreams that have been with me since the pneumonia.”

You weren’t quite sure why you were saying all this, telling a stranger your issues, but the circumstances… You were tired. And she was listening.

“I have dreams too, ones I don’t like.” Jane smiled thinly. “But most of all I think you need sleep.”

She stood, offering a hand. Accepting help wasn’t a common occurrence for you, but she was probably right.

“My trailer is-”

“I’m not taking you there.” Jane interjected, bringing you towards Nellie’s trailer.

There was no sense arguing. So you followed. Into the small little box, into the second bedroom and into Jane’s world. It was neat, and clean, and smelled… Like lavender. There was not a tense bone in your body as she had you slip off your shoes, and then your dress. She did it all so gently, her hands tracing your stomach and guiding your wrists through the sleeves of a nightgown. The room was whisper quiet, and then she settled.

“Good night, my dear. Sweet dreams.”

A/N: More parts coming soon ;)

Tags: @ilovehotactresses @marvelwomenrule @midnight-lestrange @bjoerkumlaut, @lovelyy-moonlight, @coffee-is-my-oxygen, @appparadox407

Send me a message if you'd like to be added!

#rebecca ferguson x reader #rebecca ferguson x you #lesbian #wlw #rebecca ferguson #jenny lind x you #jenny lind/ you #rebecca ferguson/ reader #rebecca ferguson/ you #jenny lind x reader #jenny lind/ reader #the greatest showman

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babyseraphim · 8 months ago

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BABYSERAPHIM’S DBDA MASTERPOST

so, the show's been cancelled, i know. but if they're not gonna make any more content, then by god, i'm gonna fucking do it myself.

Music Analyses

1910's Music: Edwin Payne Style The Doll Spider & The Blue Danube Waltz How did Edwin listen to music in the 1910's? What were Edwin's first/favorite piano pieces to play?

Playlists

Charles & Edwin Crystal Niko Esther Monty

Fanfics

my healing needed more than time

Chapters: 11/? Word count: 68.9k

After tangling with the spirit of a mad scientist, Edwin is left with a seven-year-old Charles that has no memory of him or their afterlife together. Edwin learns about Charles’s childhood in steps, as Charles finds his way back to the family he’s built by working through the trauma of his past.

dye it all, rosary

Chapters: 2/2 Word count: 9.2k

Edwin doesn't understand how trauma works. He and Charles learn the hard way. (A fic based on the long-lasting consequences of the Lust circles of Hell on Edwin's psyche)

your virtue's my vice

Chapters: 1/1 Word count: 3k

Charles spent a full year making making sure Edwin was comfortable with intimacy. Now, Edwin wants to know why Charles never talks about himself. Sequel to dye it all, rosary

I'm So Aces at Babysitting

Chapters: 2/2 Word count: 3.7k

Edwin babysits little Charles, and Charles babysits little Edwin. They go to the planetarium and the skate park, respectively.

foolish flame

Chapters: 1/1 (+ fanart) Word count: 5.6k

Orb-based will-o'-the-wisp mythology case fic written for Painland Week. Charles finds out what it's like to be the brains for a day, and Edwin is enraptured by his partner's endless talents. They kiss about it.

Overloaded

Chapter: 3/3 Word count: 9.1k

The aftermath of being used as a witch's magical battery has left Edwin's spectral body wracked with daily pain. Despite Crystal's protests, he does not think that Charles needs to know.

By Lantern’s Light

Chapters: 3/3 Word count: 13.6k matching playlist

Edwin is kidnapped by a demon during a case, leaving Charles and Crystal to pick up his trail. It takes them four days to find him. AKA, a heartbreaking story of love and near loss told from three separate perspectives.

All of the below fics are part of my pre-canon series and should be read in order

The Case of the Selkie’s Skin

Chapters: 4/4 Word count: 14.1k matching playlist

Charles and Edwin are hired by a recently deceased selkie to track down her skin, which was stolen from her and hidden away by her husband before he passed on. Charles finds that her story hits a little too close to home.

Victrola Blues

Chapters: 1/1 Word count: 3.6k

"[Edwin’s] past with music had unfortunately set him down a road that eventually ended with being murdered and imprisoned in Hell for seventy years. Most days, Edwin cannot help but believe that if his love of music hadn’t been so all-consuming, he may have gone on to live a full life."

The Case of Eros’s Arrow

Chapters: 4/? (not likely to be finished) Word count: 13.2k matching playlist

Charles and Edwin are hired by a deity of love four days before Valentine's Day to seek out a stolen magical item. What could possibly go wrong?

Series OC Masterpost

#dead boy detectives #dbda #dbdshow #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #masterpost

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medievalpeasantdreambf · 3 months ago

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Selkie!Dream

For a while Hob Gadling falls under the assumption his friend, the Stranger, is some sort of sea-related divinity.

Hob would have quite a few arguments in support of the theory, if anybody were to ask. With his black hair and unearthly pale complexion, the Stranger looks the part of a Brittany-coast ghost.

He’s wealthy and powerful, clearly the lord of some realm, but takes no interest in fighting over land. He’s clearly ancient, and inhuman. He has the powers to preserve (Hob’s still here, isn’t he?), but they seem arbitrary, like he can’t preserve everything he might wish to- or why would he have looked so empathetic when Hob told him of Rovyn’s death? He can use a pouch of some fine earthen powder, salt or sand, to bring old memories up from the depths… His hair floats as if free from gravity, or hangs, solid black and silky as if soaked… Clearly he’s some kind of sea-being.

Hob refines his guesses over time. Every time the man meets him, he’s wearing a long black robe or coat. No matter its material, it looks as soft as fur, as smooth as skin, and fits his stranger more perfectly than even the best tailors could manage. When the Stranger storms out on him in 1889, he leaves behind his hat, marching unconcerned into the downpour. Hob takes it home, drunkenly thinking of- what, hanging on to it for him? When he wakes in the morning, his window is open, and the hat is gone. Even though his- the Stranger had been in here, he hadn’t broken their hundred-years meetings contract: Hob hadn’t stirred from sleep even once that night.

Ultimately, after hearing the man-creature speak with reverence of the prized garment, ever-changing yet always undeniably the same object as his “Sister’s coat”, Hob’s mind settles on one idea : selkie.

They have a reputation for passing their magical pelt along from one woman to another in the family line. Hob is not too troubled by this last detail, as regardless of what human folklore actually knows of selkies, there are already far more surprising matters in their relationship than his friend’s gender.

Come 2022, Dream has explained nothing but follows Hob back to Hob’s place and hangs up his coat.

Hob is deeply moved by the action as he knows how awful it would be for this immense source of power to be stolen. Dream agrees it would be a terrible thing for him to lose the item for being reunited with it brings him so much comfort and he cannot bear the thought of losing this essential part of himself again.

To Dream, it is indeed a gesture of immense trust after the torments he went through last century but not the one Hob thinks it is.

Dream knew his friend’s growing respect and even affection for the coat, he’d noticed and let Hob fold it. Out of sight, he admired the immense care put into gently shaping his belonging into a clean square before petting the fur that still carried the warmth of his body. He kept staring as Hob lifted the pelt to his face, against his closed eyelids and studied him breathing in the familiar smell of his Stranger.

Dream couldn’t help his surprise the day he was standing by the doorframe, wishing his friend a good night when Hob had helpfully straightened the pelt as it was directly laid over his shoulders. If gesture felt like a caress on his naked skin, Dream found out he didn’t mind it so much.

And if some times later Hob discovered Dream’s kisses felt of ocean salt, it turned out he didn’t it mind so much either.

[information]

#dreamling #the sandman #hob gadling #morpheus sandman #sandman fic #medievalpeasantdreambf

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bnuuwitch · 2 months ago

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Little Selkie, Little Star

It had been so long since her skin had been stolen from her that she had almost forgotten about it.

Her birth had been a strange thing. Another star, wrought from the cold fires of the inexplicable heavens that tore apart the sky and brought about this ceaseless conflict. Another little light, either to fight or to be snuffed out as soon as her trembling legs - raw, delicate, shimmering with endless possibility - had learned to move, to shuffle herself around.

And just as she had begun to crawl and tremble like a newborn animal, she felt… something. Something so primal, so fundamentally wrong. No, this could not be right, this desire for… what was it she desired? A different place, a different state of being?

What did it mean to desire? She was but a star, not a particularly powerful one at that. She had not a name nor did she understand what it meant to dream, to desire. Just another light, trembling. Weak.

She felt another light near her. A similar one, a sister light. Blue. Larger, brighter. Lightning crackling at the tip of her great spear, her grand wings curling over the little starling and shielding her from harm.

What harm, the little star wondered. She was not near the enemy, though the gruesome battle raged around her as her sisters had their very essence ripped from them. As their light was torn from every fibre of their delicate being as the darkness - feral, cutting and burning and ripping them to shreds - overcame them, became them. The darkness, despised, became new sisters.

The war waged on, no end in sight.

And just as the little star felt something touch her skin, cold and comforting, she heard a whisper in her ear.

“I’m sorry, little sister.”

Words. Understanding, somewhat. The little star did not know what those words meant. She could not speak, for she hardly knew what words were. She wanted to know.

And just as quickly as the little star began to know curiosity for the first time, she began to know fear as something was torn away from her. Something so soft, so soothing, so intrinsic to her being that she could not understand it. Those primal urges that she had pushed aside returned in full force. She squirmed before she stilled, crumbling to already weak knees as her older sister - an angel, surely - flew off holding something she knew was hers.

“Hey, Edda! Look what I found!”

The Angel had been familiar. Of course she was. As if all of a sudden, those memories before the flash, before the Initial Bond, had flooded back to Edda upon seeing that… thing. The thing she knew was hers. The thing that she knew made her… different. Surely, she had to be in order to be so fundamentally… wrong. Absorbing her own sisters, the enemy. Unchanging, powerful. Still the little starling she was from the moment she was born.

But… not the same, was she? No, something had been stolen from her, and now, Aven - warm, ferocious, tenacious. A contradiction in himself for how could something born of that wretched darkness be anything but all-consuming? A giving, gentle companion, rather than a selfish wretch - had found it on the hands of the Angel they had slay.

A slip of softness, just enough to wrap snuggly around Edda’s shoulders.

Primal. Instinct. Fear, and contradiction. It was all Edda could comprehend as she approached the body of water that she would usually sprint over without a second thought, now shaking in what she now understood to be fear.

The water. It wasn’t used to scare her, did it? No, no. It had been that urge, the source of her plight, but she was young. How innocent she had been, a little starling who knew not words nor feelings nor sensations. Nothing at all.

Edda approached. One step, two steps, three. She felt like a newborn star again, trembling on weak legs and shaking like a leaf in a tree. Space seemed to warp into nothing, and the air grew heavy as Edda struggled to stand even next to the lake.

A familiar hand on her shoulder snatched Edda from her stupor, and she stumbled back, dropping the… pelt. Yes, that’s what it was. Aven was quick to cradle her now-trembling form, her light flickering between a dim, deep blue and blinding whites. He hummed to her, and Edda’s light began to settle into stillness again.

She grabbed the pelt and clasped it around her shoulders. Another time, perhaps.

@octahedral-chaos @indiestsnake

haven't written in like half a year, hope this is up to par

#certified bnuu moment #worldless #worldless game #worldless edda #worldless aven #writing

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thecaffeinatedcryptid · 9 days ago

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I gave him earrings because he deserves them for being so cunty

Should I explain his lore? *sigh* I probably should. Aight, it’ll be under the cut

So there’s three types of human shape-shifters: were-shifters, clan shifters, and selkie shifters. All of them are humans with animal spirits tied to them. The difference is how those spirits are tied.

Kuroo is a selkie. Similar to the basic concept of our selkie myths, selkie shifters have tied their animal spirits to a skin of said animal. When the human puts it on, they can transform into that animal. Unlike the other two shifter types, selkies only have two forms: all human or all animal, there’s no in between. And different to the shifter clans, selkies can’t pass on their pact with the animal spirit. They can pass on the actual item of clothing, but it’s a dangerous practice because if the spirit rejects that person when they put it on, they’ll go feral (just like a were-shifter).

Kuroo wears his skin around his neck so it can’t get lost or stolen. He only has to put the hood over his head if he wants to shift. It’s a pretty good system for him so far, but he is still a little worried about it getting stolen.

Kuroo only decided to become a selkie shifter after Kenma was cursed and turned into a were-shifter. Kuroo didn’t want Kenma to feel alone and he wanted to be able to help keep him from hurting people when he shifted uncontrollably, so he chose a large breed of mountain cat that roams the mountain range that runs along the north of Nekoma City.

Kuroo’s favorite use of his power is shifting into cat form so that his friends can use him like a heated pillow when they’re out camping. He also found that Akaashi likes to pet him to relieve stress, Kenma likes to ride around on his back, and Bokuto insists on racing him whenever he’s in cat mode, all of which he also loves.

Still, he’s careful not to shift in public or around people he doesn’t trust yet, as it can be dangerous if the wrong type of person finds out about you. So it stays relatively secret between his friends and trusted allies.

#lmao now I kinda want to draw people messing around with cat-Kuroo #artists on tumblr #art #drawing #artwork #fan art #haikyuu #haikyuu fanart #haikyuu fantasy au #fantasy au #fantasy #hq kuroo #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsurou

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aqua-the-smiter · 8 months ago

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Decided to be a lil quirky and silly and write a part 2. Featuring a surprise guest! Selkie!Ferrus Manus x Argena Seeva Argena returns the next day and finds out a little more about her new friend. SFW Ferrus's seal form is a leopard seal Thanks to @bispaceual for the idea of squish seal Ferrus Iron Hands divider by @squishyowl

Her heart was starting to beat faster and her hands shook as she tied her bay’s reins to the post again. The mare gave her a look that seemed thoroughly tired of her mistress's antics, and after a moment she instead removed the bridle all together.

“You put up with too much, Fox.” Argena told her, stroking her muzzle. “You’d better not wander off too far, or else.”

She shook out her long black mane and bent her head down to graze. Gena smiled, patting her neck before turning and walking to the edge of the cliff.

She’d been thinking about it all day. It was the only thing her mind really could focus on, and she’d breezed through her day’s work as fast as she could without it becoming sloppy. Practically counting the minutes as she worked, replaying their conversation the day before over in her head. A part of her still wasn’t convinced that it hadn’t been just a lovely dream. But her hand remembered the texture of his fur on her skin. It had to have been real. She was going to meet her selkie again today. He’d promised he would be there, and something told her he wasn’t the lying type.

A real selkie. The thought was thrilling and a little terrifying.

His name was Ferrus, and he had entirely too many crappy brothers.

A part of her wanted to tell everyone she knew about him. Sheer excitement and wanting to share the joy of her discovery with others. Magic was real, and it was still here. Just hiding. The more rational side of her knew that was a very bad idea. At best he would be chased off. At worst, hunted, or have his sealskin stolen again. Not that she thought anyone in her village would be a threat to him. Even the strongest men were dwarfed by her selkie. He was so tall and strong.

She was greeted once again with the sound of waves and the scent of the sea mingling with heather and thistle. Gulls flew overhead, and a group of perfectly ordinary seals rested a ways down the shore. From somewhere behind her a raven crawked in a nearby tree.

But as for her seal…

Scanning the shore where he’d been initially turned up nothing, and her heart clenched for a moment. He wouldn’t lie to her, surely. Either he hadn’t expected her this early, or something had happened to him. Maybe one of his brothers had found him…?

She hoped not.

Where was he…ah, there! Picking her way carefully down the rocky slope, she made her way over to him, bare feet sinking into the sand.

The problem was that she had been looking for him in his human guise. But down the cliff, in a sunny patch of warm, soft sand lay an absolutely enormous seal. His coat was different from the others. Dark gray on his back, light gray on his sides and a white belly, dappled all over with dark spots. His shape was different too. Narrower, sleeker. Longer jaws, a slimmer snout. Clearly, he was a predatory creature. His coat was shorter too, but very dense.

There he was. Curled in a crescent on his stomach, snoozing peacefully in the warm late summer sun. She had to cover her mouth to suppress a squeal of delight.

He was so cute like that. His seal form would probably be actually quite intimidating if he was awake, but he just looked so…squishy and content laying there. That’s it. He looked squishy. Without the water to support his impressive bulk, all his natural seal blubber just kind of squashed against the ground. He definitely wasn’t as plump as the regular seals that frequented this beach, but clearly he packed enough weight to look just as soft when he relaxed.

“Hello Ferrus.” She sat down next to him and whispered where she thought his ear would be. He didn’t stir, and she contented herself by just sitting with him and watching him nap. The selkie must have been setting a very good example, because soon she’d fallen asleep as well, resting against his side, though unintentionally.

She awoke to a wet snout pressing against her forehead.

“I didn’t expect you to be so forward.” Ferrus said, with a definite lilt of amusement in his voice, his neck craned around so he could look at her. Also confirming he could still talk in seal form.

Argena sat bolt upright. “I’m sorry! I must have fallen asleep waiting for you. I didn’t want to wake you up since you looked so comfortable.”

He laughed, and this time it was definitely a seal’s bark. “No harm done. I don’t mind at all. You are the only person I’ve been pleased to see in a long time. You can lean on me if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

“That’s very flattering to hear, honestly.” She said, doing just that. He seemed far less grumpy than he had the day before. Maybe the nap had done him some good.

He stretched and gave a bone-cracking yawn, his jaws gaping wide. Showing off a maw full of sharp teeth. Then that bear trap of a mouth shut, and he went back to being rather cute.

“There’s something I forgot to ask you yesterday.” She broached, a little hesitantly.

“Hm?”

“Why did your brother hide your sealskin?”

Ferrus curled his lip, showing off those teeth again. “I did leave that rather vague, didn’t I? He did it because he thought it was funny.”

“...That’s it? He stole your ability to transform for a prank? What the hell is wrong with your brother?”

“Yes, that is it. At least, that’s what he told me, and I don’t care enough about him anymore to dig deeper. I don’t know what he was thinking, and it doesn’t matter now. I’m not going to talk to him again.”

“I wouldn’t either.” She agreed. “What was his name?”

Ferrus didn’t answer for a moment. “Fulgrim. The more I think about it, the more I’m not sure how we ever became so close. We had some similarities, yes, but we were fundamentally different in far more areas. A part of me wonders if he was ever sincere.”

“Were you close with any of your other brothers? Before…all of this?”

“A few. Vulkan and I always got along. Before I left for good I used to forge things. Weapons, armor, the like. He did too, and we got along very well due to that. He was always kinder than I was, but we still got on. I had no real quarrels with Roboute or Leman or Sanguinius either. I regret not cultivating better friendships with some of them. Maybe I would have had help then. But it’s too late to dwell on that, and I won’t mourn it.”

“It must have gotten lonely though. And your brothers have some very odd names.”

In truth she doubted he would have been so lenient with her if he hadn’t been isolated for so long. On one hand it made her wonder if this would last very long. But on the other…he clearly did place some value in honor.

“It did. Truthfully I am glad I met you. I doubt I would have gone to seek out anyone of my own volition. It is in my nature, but you have proven yourself good company.” He admitted. “And indeed, they do. But it is what Father called us.”

“Wait. You have a father? Why didn’t you go to him for help? Or are things strained between you and him as well?” She could believe it, with how long Ferrus seemed to be able to hold grudges.

“I didn’t wish to get him involved in what amounted to such a childish spat. I thought it would be easy enough for me to handle. It was, in the end. Even if it required me dirting my knuckles with Fulgrim’s filthy blood. But no. I have no quarrel with Father. He is strange, and distant at times, but he is not bad. To myself or any of my brothers.”

“Fulgrim was the one being childish. But…maybe that’s why nobody else stepped in.”

“I asked!”

“I know.” She held up her hand. He let out a huffy snort and rested his head back on the sand. “But you said you’ve always been more of a loner. Maybe nobody was sure what to do. You being the way you were, and only really close with Fulgrim. Family spats are always ugly, and not fun to be in the middle of.”

He sighed. “You may have a point there. I suppose if any of them came and apologized I’d be willing to put things to rest. It’s funny, really. With one breath they would make fun of me, and with the next they would praise my work and ask me to make them things. I am not as thick skinned as I thought I was.”

“Or you just got tired of hearing the same thing over and over. I know I would.” She paused, thinking of a way to change the subject. “What did you make? Anything really special? My father makes things out of metal too. He’s a goldsmith. He’s been teaching me to do it too, since I’m the only one of my siblings who seems to have the talent for it.”

“Impressive.” He nodded in genuine approval. “I’ve made a few things like that too. Once Roboute was trying to woo an elven maiden. I made him a diadem to give to her.”

“Did it work?”

“She hadn’t left his side since the last time I saw him, so you tell me.” Ferrus said with a smug smile that looked very odd on a seal’s snout. “It would be nice to work a forge again.”

“Will you be sticking around long?” Maybe she could find a way to help him with that.”

“Aye. I found a decent little cavern in some of the large cliffs down that way.” He gestured with his tail. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving again. This is my home, and I missed it. So maybe I’ll be able to pick my craft back up. I’d like to see what you make as well.”

“Me?”

“Why not? I never thought I would have found such a kindred spirit with you.” He was very pleased with the prospect. It had been one of the reasons he and Vulkan got along so well. “Although it is a little unexpected. I didn’t think women usually took up that kind of thing in this part of the world.”

She shrugged. “Usually no, but Da doesn’t really care. He’s very proud of his work, and more than happy to have one of his children take after him. He’s always been well respected, and so casual about it that I don’t think anyone else really minds enough to make an issue. And it’s not like I don’t want to have my own family someday either. I just haven’t been approached by anyone I consider a good match. Besides, I enjoy the work.”

Or at least, anyone I could show my family. She thought, her mind wandering back to Ferrus’s human form. And it was pleasing to know she had something in common with the selkie.

“Is that why your hands are tattooed? Does it help you with your work?” She asked, remembering another question she’d wanted to ask.

“They do.”

She felt him shifting underneath, and she scooted forward so he could sit up, his sealskin around his shoulders as he shifted back to human. He offered her one of his massive hands so she could take a look. The only unmarked part of them were his fingernails, which were maybe a little bit too long but otherwise as pink as they were supposed to be. She took his hand between hers, studying the inked lines. There was an odd sensation of underlying power in them as she traced the knotwork with a finger. Amusing herself by picking out one line to follow.

“They’re beautiful. How did you get them?”

“Oh, it was a long time ago. I was much younger then. I suppose more adventurous than I am now. But they have proven their worth. And I like the way they look.”

“So do I.” Gena voiced her agreement. “They suit you very well.”

“Heh. Do they now?”

“They make you seem very fierce. Like a warrior.”

“I was, back in the day. All my brothers and I are, actually. There hasn’t been much fighting to do in a long time though. That seems to be all behind us. I can’t say I don’t miss it. And some of my best works were weapons.” The smugness returned. “I was the strongest of them, you know.”

“Oh I just bet you were.” She grinned up at him, taking his mild boastfulness as a jest. “Are you sure being the tallest also makes you the strongest?”

“I was!” He said with feigned offense. “Both of those, actually.”

“I can believe it. You’re such a big seal after all.”

“Oh hush up.”

But there were no teeth in his words. Just amusement. He really did seem more open today. More at ease. She would have been concerned that it was going a little fast, but he had been alone for so long. Whether he acknowledged it himself or not, he must have been at least a little lonely. And for the length of time he hinted at. Centuries, if she was reading it right. He must have been his own beast all right, because that much time alone would surely drive a mortal completely mad with isolation.

And she felt a small thrill as well. His first contact with anyone in centuries had been her, and he’d decided he liked her after a small conversation the day before. She realized that she had been granted a rather hard-to-earn thing, and was determined to make the best of it. She definitely liked him too. He was rough, sure, but there was warmth underneath it. Then of course, there was the mind bending realization that she had, by sheer luck, befriended a real selkie…

They had fallen into a comfortable silence after that, watching the waves. A few pelicans dove in, scooping up fish with their oversized beaks. Once a pod of dolphins had breached a ways away from the shore. She always loved to watch them. They were immensely graceful creatures. Although Ferrus seemed more than pleased to go over just how much faster he was in the water when she asked. Once there was a glint of greenish-blue in the water that made him narrow his silver eyes in suspicion, But he never elaborated on it, and the way his hackles had seemed to raise made her think better of asking. If there was real danger, he would have said something.

The time came for her to depart. As she stood brushing sand from her skirt, she turned to him.

“Will I see you again tomorrow?”

Ferrus tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I will be here. But we should probably figure out an easier way of meeting up.”

“I’ll give it some thought.” She promised. “I doubt I'll be able to make excuses every day anyway. Much as I would like to. I don’t think I’ve ever been able to talk to someone like I have you.”

Maybe we were both hungering for companionship

“Agreed. This has been remarkably pleasant.”

Putting it mildly on his end.

“Tomorrow then.” She gave him a bright smile then, and squeezed his hand before clambering back up the cliff. He rubbed his fingers together. Her hands did good work, but they were still so soft…

He stayed out long after she had departed again. But this time he wasn’t left alone.

There was an odd prickle in his hands, erasing the warm feeling that Argena’s touch had left him with. A raven fluttered down, hopping on its skinny black legs over the sand. Ferrus’s head shot up, and he glared at it.

“Brother!” It-he-crawked at him. “It has been a while.”

“Has it?” His voice was dripping icicles.

In a moment, in the bird’s place was a tall, pale young man with long black hair and glittering black eyes. He was draped in dusty black traveling robes and a cloak, and in his right hand he held a plain wooden staff.

“What do you want?”

“Oh don’t be like that. You haven’t been seen in centuries. It was pure luck I caught sight of you. I wanted to know how you’ve been.” Corvus said, his tone mollifying.

“As you can see, I’m just fine. You’d better not start spying on me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I can see that temper of yours is still as hot as ever.”

“Indeed, it is.” He hissed. “How long have you been watching?”

“Long enough to see the young lady, if that’s what you were wondering about.”

“If you-”

“I won’t! Ferrus, come now. You know I’m not like that. I only came here out of brotherly concern, nothing more. Father is concerned. So are many of the others. I will tell them you’re alright, and nothing more. Does that sound good to you?”

“No.” Ferrus snapped. “I would prefer if you said nothing at all. You remember what I said before I left?” “I do. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you felt you needed to go to such extreme measures.” Corvus confirmed. “Fine, fine. I won’t say anything unless I’m asked.”

“I suppose that’s the best I can get from you. Storing pieces of information like a dragon hoarding gold. Why can’t you like shiny things like a real raven?”

“It is what I do best. And I do, actually. I just like my shiny things to be of high quality.” He said with a razor grin. “Would you-” “NO!” “I jest, brother.”

“Of course you do. Now get out of here before I actually lose my temper!” “I’m going, I’m going!” He squawked indignantly, before returning to bird form and flapping off with indecent haste.

Ferrus sighed. Seems things might not remain so quiet. Then he cured himself, realizing belatedly he’d forgotten to sing for her. Damn it all. Next time, then.

#mermay #mermay 40k #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40k x oc #primarch x oc #primarch x female oc #warhammer #ferrus manus #ferrus manus x female oc #ferrus manus x oc

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 9 months ago

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not a request but i have a question or two on your siren character that you wrote with a dark/obsessive alucard, in the piece it is made clear that the siren character has a strong hate for humans due to being stolen from her family and home to be inslaved and sold by them and tries to leave alucard when finding out he is half human. so my question is about how the series ends with village belmont being built around the castle, how do you think the siren would react to alucard bring humans to live in and around their home knowing her history with them? my first thought would be her trying to leave and lashing out at alucard as she would rather be alone in the world then surounded by humans but as she is your character i wanted to get your take on that situation and to ask where or what media you got the sirens physical characteristics from as i have never seen sirens depicted with large dark eyes and am intrested in learning more siren lore

Oooh, that's a good question.

I wonder if, by that time, she'd sort of warmed up to the idea of humans being with Alucard and getting to "trust" him (that or the Stockholm syndrome starts to set it). OR... If like you say, she'd be very angry and distrustful.

I also see this third option of sorting using it to each other's advantage. She sees that even though the humans adore Alucard now for saving them, it won't be that way forever. Eventually, they will learn something they don't like, see a part of him that's more vampire than human, and they will judge him negatively for it. She could use this looming threat to ensure Alucard sees her as his one true partner and confidant, even after Sypha and Trevor return.

At the same time, I see Alucard potentially doing a version of the same thing. He knows our Siren friend is not versed well in human social expectations, so every time he pushes her to socialize, it doesn't end well. Either it's awkward, or she ends up yelling and scaring people, which is at the point where he gets to swoop in and apologize for her behavior. Alucard in doing this, is basically telling her, hey, "I am the only reason these people tolerate you" "I am the only one you can trust still".

It's toxic af but that's the yandere asepct for you lol.

Maybe I should write a Part 2 about it? What do you think?

And for the siren descriptions, I read a bit about Celtic lore surrounding fae and selkies, and then thinking of selkies made me think of seals, and they have dark big eyes, right? They have big rounded pupils to see deep underwater where it's dark, but then those pupils close up when on land.

For our Siren, I think she'd have a protective lens layer for her more 'human' form, that protects the extra large pupil from the harsh sun/UV rays. I also recalled reading a Reddit post about what a realistic mermaid would like, and how she'd need blubber or layers of insulation OR she'd be very skeletal and have translucent skin if she were much further down in the deepest parts of the ocean. So I went with the deeper down theory a bit, which is also why she couldn't get away in a river, even if it was deep enough to swim, she couldn't sustain a long life in that environment.

#asks #yandere alucard #yandere alucard siren reader #yandere castlevania #yandere alucard x reader #yandere x reader #alucard x reader #castlevania alucard x reader #yandere #tw yandere #tw: yandere

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sfehvn · 1 year ago

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Hi! Let me start by saying that the intruder has me completely hooked, it's such a clever idea and can't wait to see what comes next. Okokok, I'll stop gushing. If your requests are still open (if not, simply disregard the ask or save it for a later day) but I can't get my head out of the idea of Astarion and a selkie reader (Idk why tho). Either ascended or not, I think it would be a interesting concept to explore the folklore around selkies with our dear vampire. Maybe Tav is afraid of her secret being discovered or fearing for her pelt being stolen? How do the dinamics work with Astarion either as an ascended or spawn? Any fic is more than fine for me :D

selkie

A/N: Thank you much for your support! This is just a little drabble but I can always build upon it later if you'd like! xx Word count: 581 Characters: Astarion x selkie!Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

Warm water lapped at your toes and you welcomed the feeling of home washing over you. Astarion laid with you, skin to skin, in the sand and while the sensation of a million grains against his bare body was an unwelcome one, it had, at some point, become a forgotten worry as he held you. You smelt of seafoam and sunshine with his nose buried in your hair. Your pelt laid haphazardly across his leg, thick velvet forever reminding him of you. A selkie lover; a notion Astarion would have met with teasing mockery before he met you. Not known for being an accepting character, when he had found your coat, your animalistic instincts had kicked in. You were prepared to stake the vampire through his un-beating heart if that’s what it took to safeguard your lifeline to the sea.

Astarion hadn’t met your apprehension with his typical antagonistic demeanor, much to your surprise. No, instead, he was curious. Intrigued without the scrutinizing conviction you’d predicted. As your relationship bloomed, safety was fostered in his very existence. One that made your body buzz in the midst of him. Finding comfort in a land-dwelling being was the very last thing you’d anticipated when you’d met the silver-haired man.

Unbeknownst to you, Astarion had concocted a scheme to steal that pelt from right under your nose. The power he’d have over you with the simple theft was an intoxicating thought—a power he’d never had over anyone, not even himself. How easy it would be to force you to kill Cazador on his behalf with the promise of restoring your pelt to your possession. Yes, it was a simple and fool-proof plan. One day when he was left to his own devices in camp, he could have done it. His hands held the coat firmly, staring at it with wide eyes. If it was so easy, why couldn’t he bring himself to do it? He could only picture your face telling him excitedly about how everything seemed to make sense when you were in the deep of the sea, how at-one and peaceful it all was.

Astarion couldn’t steal that from you, the only person who had ever shown him kindness. The only person who had ever treated him like he mattered. Someone who had entrusted him with their biggest secret. The very desire to betray you made his stomach turn viscerally. Just as quickly as he found the coat tucked away amongst your belongings, he hastily returned it as he’d found it. A searing pain gnawed at his chest while he lay with you that night under the moonlight atop the sand. He was angry at himself for considering it; he was angry at himself for being unable to go through with it. Such complex feelings had never touched him so deeply. Why did it matter? You were a pawn. That was it. But then, why did shame light such a fire in his chest?

“What’s got you so quiet tonight?” You murmured between gentle kisses to pale flesh.

He considered letting loose lips fly, but the serenity he felt in the moment paralyzed him. He was sure once you knew about his plan, he’d more than likely never see your face again and would be gone with the anger of unforgiving waves. Perhaps you’d understand his fear-driven thoughts; perhaps not. It was a risk Astarion ultimately decided was not worth the risk.

“Just thinking about how enthralling you are, my little selkie.”

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #x reader #ascended astarion #ascended!astarion x reader #reader #tav #ascended!astarion x tav

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snippychicke · 1 year ago

Text

Legend of the Selkie and the Pirate --Two--

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen/mature (we have non-graphic nudity stated)

Pairing: Buggy/Selkie!Reader

Warnings: None except heartbreak?

Summary: Even in a world of monsters, devil fruits, pirates, and fishmen, selkies were considered a myth. Especially in the East Blue where the waters were too warm for seals to live anyways.

Except that myths were always seeded with truths, and stories always had a habit of coming to life.

Tagging: @tfamidoingwithmylife; @yellowbbear ; @skullr0se; @chiyo-juice

Masterlist|Ao3

(psst, if you're a long time reader of mine and noticed that I had posted part one without dramatic use of italicized words... that was because tumblr ate my formatting. It is fixed now along with a few spelling/grammar corrections.)

Prompt: Something/Someone missing

The joy of a large trove of treasure disappeared as Buggy watched the seal slip beneath the railing and over the edge. Without thinking, he called out your name as he raced to the edge, just to watch you gracefully disappear beneath the choppy waves. He was somewhat aware of the rest of the crew torn from the treasure, but was frozen as he watched the water. Hoping--Praying-- that you'd break the surface. That you would reappear--either human or seal-- and he could pluck you up once more despite the earlier ocean spray on his hands had already made them painful and weak.

He'd do it again. And again and again.

If you would just reappear.

"Not even a goodbye," Mohji whined eventually. "Richie is going to be so heartbroken."

Who the fuck cared about the lion? He was heartbroken. The necklace he had in his fist--the one he was about to insist you try when he had first turned around-- cut into his hand as he clenched his fist.

Why? What did your family or kind or whatever have that he couldn't provide you? Were any them as flashy as he was? Making you constantly smile and laugh? Did any of them take you and accept you as easily as his crew had?

Did any of them love you like he did?

Or was it his one flaw? His one weakness? That he couldn't swim. That the ocean hated him for fucking accidentally eating that damn fruit.

That damn Shanks. If he ever saw him again, he would rip his throat out.

(Don't let it be his nose. It couldn't be his nose, right? You said it was fine, and he didn't think you were lying.)

"Cap'n?" Mohji asked, breaking Buggy from his thoughts.

The crew was looking towards him, which he usually didn't mind. Except there was pity in their eyes. As if they could tell--as if they knew--how he felt.

"What are you freaks looking at?!" He shouted with a manic grin. "We just hit the jackpot! It's time to celebrate!"

The cheers were less than heartfelt, but Buggy let it slide. This once.

Granted, later that night, while the crew was sleeping off draining half the beer they had on board, Buggy made his way to the small room you had claimed.

You had been with them for just a few short months, and yet you had made the tiny room your own. Hammock full of blankets and pillows stolen from who knew where. A chest brimming with clothes donated by the crew. A vanity with a cracked mirror, yet you.hadn't seemed to mind. You had placed shiny rocks and shells in the canister meant to hold makeup and brushes.

He took the necklace he had kept in his pocket and put itt in the main drawer, next to the hairbrush (your hair mixed with a few of his since it had been a spare he had found in his own room). He knew he was being foolish, but he held on to the sliver of hope you'd be back. That you would look at his gift with delight and grin happily at him. That the sparkling gems would look as beautiful as he imagined against your skin.

And, well, if he happened to fall into your hammock, pulling your pillow close to his chest, it was merely because he drank too much. But in the moment, he knew the truth as the sway of the ship rocked him into an uneasy sleep.

He missed you.

Prompt: Forgetfulness

You had forgotten how lonely the sea was.

As the sun set and everything became dark, you pulled yourself up to an outcropping of rocks before shifting and looking to the stars. Except the sky was clouded, obscuring everything.

The night would have been silent if not for the sound of water splashing against the rock and your legs. It was impossible to tell where the sea and sky separated--all that you could see was inky blackness. As if you had somehow appeared into an abyss.

You shivered, but you weren't cold. You still pulled your fur tighter as you continued to shake, chest becoming painfully tight.

You wanted to be on the pirate ship right now. You wanted to hear the rumble of snores of the crew. The soft boot steps of those taking watch. The soft glow of the lamps and candles.

Buggy finding you and ending the lonely night often brought alongside insomnia. It had become a little routine, making you wonder what made it so hard for him to sleep at night.

You never asked.

Finally the tightness erupted into a scream, hot tears stinging your eyes.

You had forgotten what true loneliness was like.

You forgot the heartache of missing those dear to you.

Your heart wasn't sure it even knew where 'home' was. The arctic where your pod was. Where your parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, were.

Or a ship where you were surrounded by people so unlike but had wormed their way into your heart nonetheless.

(Or maybe where a blue haired pirate grinned at you with bright eyes and a red nose. Like you were the most amazing thing he had ever seen.)

Prompt: Unexpected

"We're going to the Grand Line!"

The crew of freaks stared at their captain in confusion. When he had called them together, this was not what they expected his announcement to be. In fact, no one had cared to even place bets considering they all believed it to be the same.

To go after you.

"The… Grand Line, Captain?" Mohji was brave enough to ask, clearly as confused as everyone else despite the fact he was technically Buggy's second in command.

Thankfully, Buggy grinned at the white curly-haired man. Though there was a hint of mania yet again to his blue eyes. "You heard me. We've pittered about the East Blue for long enough, it's time to go after the grand prize--the One Piece!"

"Don't we need a map for the Grand Line?"

"Does the One piece actually exist?

"Well, rumor has it Buggy was on Rogers ship. So if he thinks it does, then it must, right?"

Buggy wasn't too concerned about the talk amongst the crew, that was to be expected. After all, it was a big change.

But then…

"What about our selkie that jumped shipped?" Mohji asked, and everyone quickly grew silent, looking towards the captain expectedly.

Buggy felt his eye twitch as he gritted teeth behind his smile.

Waking up in your hammock had made the truth hit him like a sledgehammer. You were gone. You chose to leave, without so much as a goodbye.

Escaping to the one place he couldn't follow.

"Our little seal made her choice," he said, turning to his first mate with murder in his eyes. "And I don't want to hear another word about it."

Because his heart was bruised enough as it was.

He wasn't going to chase after someone who didn't want him. (Just like everyone else in his life he had cared for. He had opened his heart to you, only for you to devour what little had remained before jumping overboard.)

Prompt: Undone

"Well, she's rather special. I mean, can you blame him?"

"Hmph. Captain Buggy has made it a point to build a crew of people that don't fit in. We're his band of freaks. But at least we're human. Or fishperson. The bitch is as useful as a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. I mean, she had to be taught how to wash dishes."

"Either she sharpens up, or the Captain will realize how useless she is and send her overboard too."

The words still echoed in your head despite it being weeks since they were spoken. The conversation you weren't meant to hear but did. The one that made you realize you didn't belong among the land-kind.

That you weren't meant to be one of Buggy's crew. That the chore girl position you had been given was just to keep you entertained and out from under others feet.

Oh sure, many of the crew acted like they enjoyed you being there-- especially Buggy himself-- but not all of them were such great actors. The scoffs. the sneers.

Some things were universal no matter what.

The cry of a seagull roused you from the half-sleep. You groaned when you realized the sun had moved, meaning you were no longer in the shade of the towering cliffs but in the hot sun.

You grabbed your fur and moved into the new shaded area. Hoping to get a little more sleep before the sunset and you could resume your attempt at finding home.

Goddamn tropics being so hot. It was way too warm to try and swim during the day, so you resorted to trying to sleep while the sun bore down. Yet always alert for any land-kind, so sleep was a relative term.

But at least there were plentiful fish in the waters.

Yet… your time on the pirate ship had spoiled you. All that different food.

Baked.

Roasted.

Toasted.

Fried.

And the fruit. The cool and sweet juices from biting into one busting into your mouth. Sometimes too much and escaping the corners of your lips.

Buggy laughed as you tried hard to catch the juice with your hands. He eventually reached over and wiped some you didn't notice from your chin and made a show of licking it from his glove. "Juicy little thing, aren't you?"

"I-it was," you agreed, trying to reign in your impulses that you didn't realize what he truly said.

How were you supposed to enjoy going back to eating merely to survive after that? (Were you ever going to get him out of your head?)

You continued to try and sleep, ignoring the pain any dreams brought once you woke.

Prompt: Eyes

For being stuck in a sack, bodiless, and more or less prisoner of Arlong, everything had been going fine. Listening to Luffy's antics was always entertaining. The boy was so clueless and full of optimism that it was almost unbelievable at times. As well as rather annoying, considering how the rubber-cursed teen and his tiny crew had beaten him

What was wrong with this kid?

Maybe the Gum-Gum fruit had done something to his brain too.

Okay, things were massively sucking for Buggy right now, but he held out hope. He had escaped worse situations. Yes his body was too far away for him to literally pull himself together. But after they tracked down the Straw hat, Arlong said he'd let him go.

Granted, Arlong was the kind of pirate to lie straight to your face, but all Buggy had at this point was hope.

And then he heard you. He knew wherever his body was it jerked, instinct to whip around to look for you before he remembered his ear was miles away at the Baratie restaurant hidden in Luffy's cap.

What the fuck were you doing there.

He wiggled his ear slightly in hopes things weren't so muffled. As angry and hurt as he still was, there was no denying that he was desperate to hear your voice clearly.

He wanted to see you. Touch you. Talk to you. (Demand to know why you had left him the way you did. Hadn't any of the time you spent with them, with him, meant enough for at least a goodbye?)

"--I'm lost," you admitted slowly, sounding as cautious as when you first boarded his ship. Back when you didn't know who to trust and expected someone to do something. "I'm trying to head north, but--"

He silently groaned, rolling his eyes, the Baratie was south of the Deadman Stacks. No wonder you ended up in the East Blue. You were absolutely clueless when it came to directions, weren't you?

(He could have helped. If you had just asked. If you had just waited another minute.)

"Where's home?" Luffy asked, full of innocent optimism that set Buggy's teeth on edge.

You wouldn't. You wouldn't dare accept help from the brat after leaving him. Right? There was nothing that kid had that he didn't. (Except a normal nose-- no. You didn't care about his nose.)

"North?" You answered awkwardly, and Buggy wasn't sure if you were avoiding the question, or if you really didn't know.

"Like, Shells town? Syrup Village?"

"Um… further… north?"

You… didn't know. At least, none of their names for places. And you didn't trust them enough to divulge that truth. His innocent little lamb lost at sea for how many months now? He didn't think his heart could stand another knife in it.

"I mean, Cozia is the northernmost isle of the East Blue I know," A new voice peeped in. One of the waitstaff if he recalled right. Sangria? Sojo? Something like that. It didn't matter, not really.

"That sounds… kinda familiar?" You answered, though your voice was tinged with obvious doubt. You were such a horrible liar. (Which only confused him more, because he had thought you at least liked him. Yet you ran away. Why?)

"Don't worry, my cherie, you rest and eat your fill. We'll find a way to get a beautiful woman such as yourself home." The waitstaff flirted, making Buggy grit his teeth as he tried to keep his snarl silent, well aware that Along's crew was probably listening.

Hell no. No suave fucking waiter was going to try and steal you from him. (Completely ignoring the fact you obviously weren't his to be stolen.)

Wait.

Shit. Fuck.

Arlong was heading for the Baratie. Where you were.

And as happy as he was to find you, for the chance to just see you again, there was no mistaking the fear rolling in his gut even if he wasn't attached to his body.

What if you got caught up in the inevitable fight? You could defend yourself, but against Arlong's crew? One Selkie against three fishman that were stronger than himself?

What if Arlong decided he wanted you as a trophy? What if he took your fur from you again? Unlike Buggy, Arlong was known to hold people captive for long periods of time, doing as he pleased. (Buggy held on to the fact he wasn't that bad since he only gave the towns and villages a mandatory free show for a few nights and before he'd leave and allow them to rebuild their boring little lives.)

And all Buggy could do was watch. A bodiless head, unable to do anything but watch. Listen. Maybe beg but he already knew any pleading would fall on deaf ears.

Prompt: Crowds

You had impulsively followed the smell of food, sick of fish, and ended up giving a few humans--Luffy and Sanji-- heart attacks when you pulled yourself halfway onto the deck asking for food.

And well, you had gotten what you had asked for that ruined your usual diet even more because it tasted divine. But as you ate, the two had been full of questions and one thing led to another and…

They wanted to help you. Apparently their navigator might know more about where you were heading.

Except chaos erupted before you could even meet their navigator. Maybe it was because you were surrounded by too many humans, but you felt exposed. Overstimulated. The constant chatter of the patrons. The clinks of silverware against plates.

The animalistic part of your brain finally won out, and you ran yet again. There was a storm on the horizon and you didn't want to be caught in the middle of it.

You didn't care which way you were going, you jumped into the water and dived deep and fast, allowing your body to follow the urge to run and hide.

~*~

You weren't at Baratie.

Hours later as Buggy helped the Straw Hat idiots navigate.to Arlong Park, the mantra repeated itself in his head. You weren't there. You hadn't been amongst the crowd of diners that Arlong threatened. You weren't part of Lyffy's little crew.

Buggy was relieved. Angry. Devastated. Thankful.

Oh, you had been there. Your voice hadn't been a figment of his deranged imagination. But apparently between Mihawk's attack and Arlong’s arrival, you had slipped off into the night without so much as a word. (Which did help a little. Especially as Sanji mourned the fact two 'lovely ladies' had disappeared on him without so much as a goodbye.)

"Wait, you knew her?" Luffy asked after Buggy not-so-subtly asked if they had seen a curvy gal in a seal-skin coat.

Buggy grinned, though he felt an eye twitch. "You could say that. But I mean, what man really knows a woman, am I right?"

"She's running away from you, isn't she?" Zoro guessed-- making Buggy grit his teeth.

God, if he had his body right now he would have decked the grass-haired man. Right in the swordsman's chest wounds. (See how he liked a knife in the heart.)

"That would imply I actually gave a shit about what she's up to." Okay. He couldn't lie to himself. He did. Hearing you were still so lost had taken the edge off his anger. He was still mad, but it was tempered with worry now. "She's merely an old acquaintance and I was surprised to hear her voice is all. She doesn't like hanging around crowds."

"She was a jumpy little rabbit," Sanji agreed with a dreamy hint to his voice. Okay, forget the dramatic samurai-wanna be, Buggy was going to slaughter the chef. "I should have offered to protect her. To keep her safe from whatever frightened her."

That madeBuggy laugh. "That is a riot. Friend, buddy, pal, let me tell you a little secret. Those sharp teeth aren't for decoration. I've seen her kill half a dozen men in just a few minutes with those chompers of hers alone. She'll bite your hand off if it wanders a bit too much-- and I do mean literally."

And yet… you were still an innocent little lamb he felt compelled to protect as well.

Or maybe just stand back and watch you protect yourself, clapping and cheering the same way you did during one of his performances.

But the fact.remained, you had left him. You did not want him or his crew.

He was in the midst of his body being kidnapped and sailing into the territory of one of the most vicious pirates of the East Blue with a ragtag bunch of idiots. That should be what took precedence in his mind.

Not you. (Yet it was.)

#opla buggy #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy x reader #one piece #opla

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dead-boy-detective-agency · 8 months ago

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Hello. Um, sorry if my wording for this post is a little messy, I'm really shaken and I couldn't think of anyone else to ask for help.

I'm a selkie. I've been mostly staying on land for a bit, as I've found myself interested in human culture and wanting to experience something different for once. I always return back to the sea at night, but a few days ago, while trying to go back home I realized my seal skin had been stolen.

I'm not sure how this happened I always make sure it's hidden really well, I've never told anyone where it's been hidden and the only people that knew I was a selkie were my ex girlfriend (who I never told where I hid it) and my family.

My initial suspicion went to my ex, we broke up in bad term but I've refused to believe she'd do something so... Yeah.

I'm not sure how to even begin looking for it.

— 🐚

Hello. This is Edwin, I have a few strategies to help you to find it:

First of all, try your best to keep calm. I understand this must be an incredibly stressful experience, but it is much easier to find things with your thoughts in order. Take a few deep breaths and retrace your steps. Where did you see it last? Who did you last see it with? Walk through these events in your mind and see if you can remember anything useful.

Secondly, search methodically. Go from where you saw it last and work from there. Divide large areas into small, manageable chunks to stop yourself from getting too stressed.

Thirdly, ask for help from friends and family. They may have seen what happened to it, or know other ways to locate it. While I know there are spells for locating magical items, I would recommend finding a professional on the subject.

If you want I can refer you to reputable witches in your area.

I wish you the best of luck,

- Edwin

#edwin payne #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detectives #anon ask #🐚

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pampushky · 6 months ago

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Creature (Both Haunted & Holy)

Vinsmoke Sanji/Reader - chapter 1 - 2.2k

As you resign yourself to a fate of misery at Arlong's hands, your journey unknowingly starts with the appearance of a green-haired swordsman.

Warning: This chapter does have descriptions of non-consensual sexual encounters, along with mentions of possible forced prostitution. Be smart. Don't force yourself to read this if it'll trigger you.

ao3 | series masterlist | masterlist | next part

Notes on Selkenfolk, from the Journal of Dr. Crocus of the Roger's Pirates Pod; the selkenfolk family. There is a large emphasis on the chosen family, however this may vary based on the type of selkie. According to the selkies of our crew, we are considered their pod, which delighted Roger to no end. It must also be noted that selkenfolk can hold their breath for a very long time, usually up to nearly two hours if they're trained and prepared properly. For defense in their humanoid form, which differs greatly from the selken and seal form, they have a set of retractable claws on their hand. While their claws are strong, they have to be properly cared for, or else they will become brittle. They are also rather sensitive to sunlight, as their entire eye is black, to see better in the deep water they are normally found in. Their humanoid form will resemble their seal form, with their skin the color of the pelt, and having freckles/dapples matching it, as the selkies Pell and Coth of our crew do greatly resemble leopard seals, even while more humanoid. They are rather protective of their pelts, which while rather durable, can be used to manipulate a selkie should the wrong person get ahold of it. According to Coth; "A stolen pelt is a fate worse than death--- it is a sentence to eternal servitude."

The rooms under Arlong Park were always musty. It’s a consistent smell that’s always seemed to cling to your skin, no matter how many times the fishman may let you bathe or go on “walks”. Straw mattresses, mildew, and molded-over heels of bread, along with a dryness that was unusual to a place inhabited by fishmen. But that was a special case, it was made to be that dry just for you.

It’s not as if the conditions were meant to be pleasant, anyway. The 'walks' were you being chained to a post, or kept by Arlong’s side in the middle of the day, usually when the sun was at its highest, with nothing to shade your sensitive eyes. Arlong enjoyed watching the way you suffered. It’s not as though he was completely ignorant to what a selkie such as yourself needed— though your skin was a mottled gray, resembling the pelt of a common harbor seal as did the rest of your pods, it didn’t mean the sun didn’t burn you after enough time under its rays, or that you enjoyed being out during the day. Your tongue was dry, from the continued deprivation of water and proper food, eyes were in a constant state of watering from how bright everything was around you. Arlong fed you just enough fish— however rotten they may have been— to keep your hair shiny and soft, the way he liked it, and gave you enough food to keep his favorite parts of you soft. But there was never enough to help you gain strength or muscle. If he ever suspected you were trying to grow stronger, the food would disappear until you were so weak you were unable to stand.

You will not run, he had told you, the moment he had taken you from your small island home, just along the calm belt in the North Blue, You will not run or it will be twice as bad for your pod, little one.

A pretty little doll to sit on his lap, to be shown off, and toyed with later if he so desired. Muzzled and chained, clawed hands kept dull, and your pelt hidden away in a trunk somewhere in the park. You held no power here, his captive empress of the sea. Nothing for you to fight back with or a purpose to even try, but there was the promise of your home being destroyed should you even try to escape, reminders of your mothers' screams filled your mind every time the ocean beckoned, your pelt lazily left out on Arlong's bed when he left you after chasing his own pleasure.

But it was for your village. To keep it safe. You had to keep it safe. Your brothers were just pups, your baby sister hadn't even opened her eyes yet when you had left. You had to protect them. Arlong would not hesitate the moment you moved out of line. He would destroy them all, for the crime of trading with humans and marrying among them, like your older sister had. You remember how devastated your mothers looked, holding each other as you were dragged away, a heavy metal collar fastened around your neck, a wail on your lips as your mothers both reached to you for a final time, screaming your name as they were held back by Chew and Kurobi. The last you heard of them was their roars of rage and pain.

It was that same night he broke you in, as you cried silently for your pod’s grief, crying for someone to help. The same night he left a grievous bite along your shoulder to claim you. You are mine and no one else’s, he snarled, smiling with your blood on his teeth as you thrashed beneath him, hitting and trying to wriggle away from him, so small under him, so helpless. No one will have you like this now. He had you map the currents of the waters he dominated. You were a gifted selkie, after all, blessed by the Mother of the Sea, rumored to be able to conduct the waves themselves and make it rain with your voice. That was not true of you, not yet, not when you had only started your training a few months before. Nevertheless, the currents were old friends of yours, swirling around you whenever you swam, invigorating you the longer you stayed in the depths before you were pulled back up by the chain on your wrist.

A good selkie, Arlong purred, a finger brushing over your cheek. Such a good selkie for me, telling me exactly where the undertows form. His nose had cut a groove in your cheek that night, as he had rutted into you, panting and grunting like a wild beast as he finished, leaving you a sticky, bleeding mess, weeping on the straw mattress of the ship's brig after a 'successful' excursion.

So here you were chained, forcefully sitting on Arlong’s lap as Nami walked up to the pirate, a smirk on her lips as she tossed some treasure his way. The Marines had already made lewd comments about you. Ogling your body, laughing at how your lace, nearly see-through top only barely covered your form, and how your shorts hardly did anything to hide the bites along your thighs. You were his pretty little doll, wearing whatever he chose for you, and if you didn't? Well, he wasn't above making you walk around naked, sitting on his lap for all to see, but not to touch, demonstrating your pretty sounds for his crew when you had refused to wear what he chose, begging for something more concealing. How had he responded?

"Isn't my selkie lovely?" Arlong had crooned, shoving two fingers inside you, despite your screams. He had bound your hands above you, shoving a towel in your mouth to quiet your cries, pumping in and out of you. Chew looked over, tutting at the tears running down your face, and the way that you thrashed, hips jutting forward with each harsh pump. Arlong only grinned, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in tandem with his fingers. Your hips jutted forward, and your head sagged onto your shoulder as he forced an orgasm out of you, grinning dangerously as you came, spraying all over his hand, whimpering and trying to jerk away from his continuing touch.

"She's yours for the night if you pay enough," Arlong grinned at Nezumi, letting you slump to the floor, numb to the laughter and predatory eyes on your body as the marine began to negotiate.

Nami’s gaze fluttered over you, and you looked away, eyes down. It was an unspoken agreement. You were friends, and allies, due to both of your situations, and you both attempted to make each other's sufferings better. You had spoken with her, in desperate confidence after she had found you the first time, left on a straw mattress in the basement cell under the main building. You were so similar, yet different. But you both acted for others. To keep your pod safe. For her to liberate her village. Forever branded by the monster who had caused your terrors, and forever invisible to the marines who were meant to help you.

The only respite was swimming. Bring dropped somewhere in the ocean, followed by however many of Arlong’s crew, just to keep an eye on you. But they knew you wouldn’t run. You had tried, early into your capture, and your grandfather paid the price, Arlong dropping a necklace that had belonged to him before you after he had pinned you to the wall, declaring that whenever you swam now, you would do it with iron shackles around your wrist, a thick iron chain securing you the ship, only allowing you to swim as far as the chain went, the crew able to pull you out of the water at any given moment, should they so desire, hurting you as they did.

But you pushed it away, shaking off the loss of your pelt, and held your breath as you had been taught by your mothers. Diving deep, deep into the ocean, feeling the waves churn around you, the way they pushed and pulled. You were free here. Able to memorize the dances of the water, and able to trace them out on paper, sloping arrows in deep blue ink on Nami’s wonderful maps. The most detailed currents were around Seal’s Drop, your home village, where you had played for years before you were taken. Sometimes, it was like the shackle wasn't there, when you went deep enough, the pressure making you dizzy in your humanoid form, and it was as if your mothers were swimming beside you, until your arm was pulled, forcing you back into the brightness of the day, laying on the deck as you were taken back to the park.

Nami’s gaze rested on you for just a second before she spoke to Arlong again. Another successful mission, more treasure to be gained, and some small-time pirates duped into helping her, along with getting a brand new ship for the fleet, one that could easily blend in with luxurious boats meant for the wealthy that lived in the east blue. Arlong grinned widely, sharp teeth on full display as he threw his hands into the air, looking down at the map that Nami passed him, a look of awe on his face as he traced out the shape of the Grand Line.

The call for a party had you keeping your head down lower. Parties meant Arlong drinking. Which meant forcing drinks down your throat, and an unpleasant night ahead, with puncturing bites and deep bruises. Your stomach churned at the thought. You would end up sick, no doubt, ending up retching and puking with Arlong having his way as you struggled, whimpering for him to stop. Arlong loosely put his hand around your throat and squeezed just enough to make your breath hitch, pulling you out of your mind.

“C’mon now my little selkie, it’ll be fun,” A malicious grin spread across his lips, sharpened teeth on full display. “Consider it a celebration of your recent success.”

“Of course,” You nodded, only looking at his teeth, avoiding his eyes. He hated it when he thought you weren't looking him in the eye.

“Make the arrangements—” Arlong stood up from his seat, ”And put my darling selkie away in the shade for a bit, she deserves a bit of rest,” a finger ran over your chin, “She’ll need the energy. For now, Nami, come with me, we have much to discuss.” His voice was sickening to you, and his touch made you shudder.

And then the green-haired man was brought in. And his eyes bored straight into yours, even as Arlong held you by your waist, fingers sinking into your skin so hard you knew it'd bruise. And when he’d pushed himself into the water, you couldn’t help but gasp, instinctually jumping forward, stopped by the hand around your waist. You were jerked backward, hitting your head on the corner of Arlong's chair, a small laugh bubbling from his lips as you rubbed at your head, whimpering.

“Awh, did you find him cute?” Arlong had a vicious smile on his face, one finger tracing over the claiming bite he had made, pinching your chin and making you look up at him. “I’ll just have to remind you of who owns you. Maybe in front of him.”

A shiver rolled down your spine, as you watched Nami pull the man from the water, flinching when you saw how hard he had been punched. But the moment he looked up, his eyes were on yours, before focusing on Nami, as the fishman gave news about Cocoyashi, sending her away to do what he needed, and dragging him away.

It wasn’t gentle being led to the cells, and you were thrown in with him, eyes on the floor, curled into a tight ball as your chains were fastened to the wall behind you, the green-haired man in the corner across from you, eyes staring right into your soul. You only fell back into your mind, thinking of the kelp forest you and your older sister had learned to swim in.

#black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x you #one piece insert #one piece x reader #one piece x you

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