#Creature from the depths of ocean hell

[bitterbreadandblazingbutter]

big chungus yes but have you even looked at her face??? That devious face is that of a creature who'll happily kill you when you inevitably get pulled in through the gates of ocean hell and torture you for eternity because it's fun.

[ceilidho]

'still wakes the deep' au

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. First Meeting masterlist

-

Choppy waters like Neptune’s eye meet your gaze when you look back at where you came from, the land on the other side but a beige striation on the horizon. 

“Afraid of heights, doctor?” your escort asks, his amusement borderline distasteful. It must stroke their ego to watch newcomers come aboard and flounder, gawking at the swells and waves crashing against the oil rig, each wave so cataclysmic that it’s a wonder the structure stays upright. A wonder of engineering, that is. 

The rig manager stands closer to the railing, staring without fear out into the ocean surrounding you. His sea legs are likelier studier than the ones that wash up ashore every fourteen days when he’s due for his OSHA mandated break. His knees don’t even buckle at the sight of the barnacles clinging nerve-wrackingly high up on the rig legs. Far too high up for comfort. 

“No, sir,” you reply, shaking your head. “Just water.”

He barks a laugh at that. “Plenny o’ that around here. Wouldn’y go leaning my head over the rail then, if I was you.”

You take another look down, balking at the frothy white streaking the latticework barrier around the jacket legs. No worries there; there isn’t a chance in hell you’ll be going anywhere near the rails. You’re too high up to know for sure, but you wonder if there are sharks plumbing the depths beneath the rig, excited by the noise and activity on board. 

You’d be shark chum if you went overboard. Beyond that, you’d be fish food; no sympathy from the sea to be found this far from land. 

“Where should I set up?” you ask instead. 

Sensing your eagerness to get started—and to get away from the edge of the rig—he gestures for you to follow him and sets off towards the door closest to you, leading you into the interior of the rig. “This way, doc—got a room already set up for ye. Cozier in there than out here.”

The first few days aren’t so bad after that. You spend the first day getting unpacked, your suitcase already waiting for you in your quarters, which doubles as your office, and then turn in early after prepping for the next day. 

As anticipated, you spend the next day hunched over the toilet bowl, stomach roiling from spending too long staring at the turbulent waters below. You’ve done this before but it never gets any easier. Despite your chosen field of research, you’re suited for dry land, not the sea. It’s the price you have to pay though. 

No coffee that first morning. Just tea to help settle your stomach. And it does for a bit—lets you get through your first day worth of tests without you upchucking while collecting water samples from the discharge point. You’ll save your indoor work for the days when the crests of the waves are high enough to spray the working deck. By dinner, your stomach is a little more settled, but still you elect to eat in your quarters instead of with the workers in the mess. 

You haven’t been on the rig long enough to have made any enemies, nor do you think that’s something that’ll happen during your brief time on board, but you definitely haven’t made any friends. It comes with the territory. The men that work on these rigs out in the middle of the ocean—even the ones on land, for that matter—tend to view your kind with distrust at the very least, if not outright hostility. 

It’s hard to blame them. The purpose of your visit isn’t to shower them with praises. You’re stationed on the rig for the next few days to collect data and samples to assess the environmental impact of the rig’s operations. It puts you somewhat at odds with them, the outcome of your work being potentially to the detriment of theirs. 

Some whisper the word like blasphemy. Government worker. They say it like you’re the Baba Yaga or a witch living in a cottage at the edge of the village, like uttering the word too loudly will summon you. There’s too much work to do around the rig for them to cluck their tongues like gossipy hens, but the men find time for it anyway. You’d roll your eyes if you were any greener. 

The truth is though, you’re used to it, and at this point in your career, you don’t have it in you to act like it’s such a shock that they wouldn’t give you the red carpet treatment. All you need is a hot cup of coffee, an office (or even just a desk) to write your reports, and some space to conduct your research without being badgered with questions.

Most of the men tend to blur together, a medley of fluorescent yellow hard hats and navy coveralls, respirators strung around their necks and goggles covering their eyes. It’s easy enough to mistake them for one another. 

Only one of them has managed to catch your eye so far, though you can’t say it’s for a particularly good reason. Of the lot of them, he’s the loudest. Which is saying something, considering that the crew tend to speak in shouts and hollers to make up for the crashing waves beneath them and the howling winds above them. He’s also among the tallest, broad shouldered and muscled—a former first responder or military, if you had to guess, though you keep your assumptions to yourself. 

You know better than to ask questions around him because you’ve learned in the short time that you’ve spent on the rig not to give him—Soap, they call him, or MacTavish when the rig manager is particularly pissed off—even an inch. 

It’s another crew member that gives you that heads up. “Din’y pay him any mind.”

“Who?” you ask, looking up from your work.

The crew member nods to the man posted on the other side of the main deck. “Soap. Bit of a showboat, that one. Always stirrin’ up the boys, gettin’ ‘em all riled up. Din’y let him distract ye too much.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You look back down at the data sheets in front of you. “I’m not worried though. He hasn’t been too much trouble.”

Famous last words. 

He isn’t too much trouble until he suddenly is; until he’s suddenly everywhere, always in your way somehow. Not so much underfoot as just always around the corner waiting with his stupid smug smirk that you’ve grown to despise and half-lidded electric blue eyes roving up and down the length of you. Aggravating you at every turn. 

Your first meeting is an accident. At least, it seems that way, and likely is—he seems too blunt for coincidences or chance meetings, happy to tell you to your face that he manipulated the situation in order to get you on your own. 

You’re wandering down one of the many circulatory hallways and slightly lost when a door suddenly opens, blocking your way. A jumpsuit-clad man twice your size walks out, his hair just brushing the top of the doorframe. Though you recognize him instantly, you’d never gotten close enough for the details to cement in your mental image of him. Up close, you get a better look.

The faint lines around his eyes and mouth betray either his age or the life he’s lived. Weathered; bronzed from days at a time spent under the sun. You’d noticed the mohawk earlier, but staring at the side of his head now, you can see the faint puckering of a healed wound splintering out from his temple into his hairline. Though the sides of his head are freshly shorn, the scar looks old—maybe a year, maybe more. 

When he notices that he’s not alone in the hall, his head turns in your direction and he stops, one foot still in the other room. Two thick brows go up at the sight of you standing there with your tablet clutched to your chest. 

“Hullo gorgeous,” Soap purrs, pupils suddenly pinpricks and your stomach drops. 

Because of course he would. You’d long figured he might be an arrogant piece of work from what little you’ve observed of him from across the rig, but you should’ve known he’d also be a flirt. He’s too good-looking not to be one. Tall and broad, with biceps the size of your head. You’re sure he rolls his shirt sleeves up just to feel them strain against the muscles of his arms. You certainly can’t help the way your eyes are drawn there. 

“Ah ken who ye are,” he says, taking a step towards you until the tips of his boots nearly touch yours. The door is still wide open behind him, swinging slowly towards the wall behind it. Soap towers over you easily, tipping his head to stare down at you. Your lips press into a tight line when his eyes drop to your chest, staring at the outline of your tits through your cardigan. 

“Okay,” you say through stiff lips.

“Yer that lass from the government. Ah thought ye'd be auld,” he jokes, shit-eating grin on his face. 

You nearly groan. It’s too early for this shit and you’re too tired from being up all night working on your report on the rig’s discharge water quality. 

“Well, I’m not,” you reply woodenly instead, altogether unimpressed with him. 

For as fit as he is, you’re not here to flirt or hookup, and you’re good at separating work and your personal life. If anyone manages to get under your skin enough to tempt you, it won’t be the man undressing you with his eyes while covered in a thin layer of grime and sweat. 

“Nae, yer no’,” he agrees, voice a low burr. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “I’m John, by the way.”

“I know.”

“…It’s polite tae give yer name when someone introduces thersel's tae ye.”

“I’d rather you just call me doctor.”

“Doctor, eh?” Soap purrs, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Dae ye dae house calls, doc? Hae been feelin’ a wee bit feverish lately.”

You can’t help the way your cheeks heat at his comment. “Not that kind of doctor. Do you mind getting out of the way?”

“Jesus, I din’y ken ye’d be so fuckin’ prickly. Thought ye government workers were cheery a' the time.”

“Not when we have work to do,” you bite out, decidedly uncomfortable with his shameless perusal and eager just to get on with your day. “Can you move please? I have somewhere to be.”

All that does is force him to take another step closer, toe-to-toe with you now. You should’ve known he’d take that as an invitation. He reeks of grease and brine, the smell pungent and clinging to his skin and clothes. Almost like he sleeps and works in the same pair of coveralls instead of bringing his dirty clothes down to the laundry facility like everyone else at the end of the week. 

You tell yourself to stop staring at where his coveralls open to a sweat-slicked chest, dark hair poking up over the neckline, but your eyes don’t comply. A small cross dangles from a chain around his neck, nestled in the hair just above his pecs. 

“Good Catholic lass, are ye?” Soap asks, noticing the focal point of your gaze.

You scrunch up your nose at that. “No. I didn’t—it’s none of your business anyway.”

The stutter is where his eyes light up, a little gleam in the blue that lets you know you’ve caught his interest. Like seeing a storm well off in the distance and bracing for it anyway, knowing that you’re in its path no matter what you do. 

“A’right, doc, Ah'll leave ye tae it. Gotta get back myself anyway,” he says, rolling his shoulders back and standing up taller, and it’s only in that moment that you realize how low his neck had been bent in order to get closer to you. “Wait. I can’y let ye go lookin’ like that.”

You’re about to ask him what he means when he suddenly grabs you by the front of your cardigan and pulls you towards him, getting the grease on his hands all over the fabric. Your eyes nearly bug out of your skull as he pops the topmost button into its corresponding hole, the only one you’d left purposefully loose. 

The only reason you don’t snap at him to take his hands off you is because your tongue is a knot in your throat. 

“There we go,” Soap coos when the button is in, looking down at his handiwork all over the front of your shirt. “Lookin’ like part o’ the crew already.”

Your heart pounds in your chest long after he lets you go. When he steps to the side, the door flush with the wall by now, you dart around him, walking away as fast as your legs can carry you without sprinting. You ignore the way he belts out a laugh at your swift departure. Ignore the way your stomach cramps at the sound as well. 

He might end up being more trouble than you thought.

[deadghosy]

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

JELLYFISH! READER X HAZBIN HOTEL

Prompt: A sea creature wants to bring light in hell. ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆｡˚

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚ you died while being an oceanographer. You studied the ocean for its plant and creatures. You drowned specifically while trying to push a jellyfish away from you. And honestly, you went to hell becoming a flowing beautiful jellyfish.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Charlie welcomed you with opened arms, she liked how beautiful you are. The way you flow in the air, you were eye catching and majestic

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚jellyfish! reader is a Mitski, grimes, and tv girl fan of music. I think it fits their vibe at how peaceful but dangerous they are with their stingers.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚imagine how your human form would look. Jellyfish hair cut with the colors of the blue from your og form with some pink and purple. Or like blue and light blue. You would be an actual main attraction to the hotel.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you probably did get mistaken to get sent to hell instead of Heaven. You were beautiful like a heaven angel, but you were in the depths of hell. Surprisingly the hotel was a safe haven for you.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚a beautiful creature like you gain the attention of many to the hotel. You could say that you are the main attraction. And Charlie doesn’t use you like that, but she does make you a resident to get into heaven.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚vaggie finds you calming. You have this type of aura around you that just makes people relax. So your hotel room is specially designed to your liking. Which is a dark blue wall with a glowing blue that has ocean waves. It’s basically jellyfish’s en ocean designed. It’s just so magical.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you love floating around as keekee would follow you around. Then you would have the egg boiz following you plus fat nuggets. You just collected your own little band of little people.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚husk doesn’t know much about you in the hotel other than you are practically the princess/prince of the water in hotel. You make sure the water is okay as it’s your duty.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you once had made water appear. You had guess you have water power based on you drowning. And using that power, you soaked husk who started to go crazy almost scratch angel dust in irritation. 

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Lucifer admires your colorful being. Like he may seem as if he doesn’t care about you. But he sorta does as he secretly makes you a jellyfish toy that lights up in the dark.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚alastor, he might as well try to see what you are. He still senses a human soul in which makes him want to get your soul. A human souls is rare than a disgusting sinner’s soul. But you sting him every time he tries to even get close.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you once accidentally stung Alastor with your stingers. He oddly didn’t lash out at you, but rather just walked away. He was trying to hold on the stinging pain you gave him.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚sir Pentious found you alluring even. Frank and the rest of the egg boiz agree. Frank once called you mom/dad since you were singing him a lullaby.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚imagine how crazy you can be. Like one day you are the calming person every one loves and knows in the hotel. And next thing people know is that you are stinging people just because they breathed the wrong way around you.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚luckily you are a passive aggressive person sometimes. Or else you would be frying people like bacon. EXTRA CRISY‼️

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚angel dust dead ass thinks you should have a cute blue ocean crown or necklace. Maybe even a cute blue with purple star car. Bro he’s thinking of so much ways to make you girly pop.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚you could’ve had shocked angels, and I mean literally cause if it was the battle between hell and heaven. You would win lmao. Cause what if you shocked then hoes into an angel kebab

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚headcannon on how your stingers is as powerful like the jellyfishes in SpongeBob. You area full electric chair.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚vox had a whole board about who tf were you. Legit was giving crazy science man vibes cause how tf is a jellyfish in hell?! You don’t even look demon! You dead ass don’t fit the hell palette. As he is making theories, Valentino and Velvette just stare at each other like “wtf is this?”

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚now say you did went to heaven. Everything would probably be different, but you are something no one had seen before. A jelly fish angel? Yeah that seems unique.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Heaven would admire your original look. Your calming energy makes most of heaven better. Like say for example the angels complement each other with the light of your energy and how your energy flows. You basically have a pheromone, but it’s for positivity to be spread. #bethereasonsomeonesmiles LMAO

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Adam probably makes fun of how you are such a small sea thing creature. But then he switches up when you turn into your human form and start to sting his ass every time he tries to offend you. Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚sera would possibly have you as a cherub cause of your small jellyfish form. It only makes sense for you to be one as you are so adorable.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚Emily adores you. She knows you don’t mean any harm towards her with your stingers. She’s the type of person who makes you a flower crown cause she loves it be creative around people she likes. Honestly 10/10 friendship honestly.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚lute probably doesn’t care about you much. Other than your stingers are damn annoying. She just wants to rip them out, but you are is kind and sweet. So you have her vote to stay in heaven with her.

𖦹 * 🪼 ₊˚headcannon on you just humming a soft lullaby as you swim in the air, your blue soft glow in the dark makes anyone go to sleep. The blue is pretty alluring.

A/N: I tried a different writing style with the “bullet points” I hope you guys like this lol and sorry if it seems lazy.✨ inspired by: @selvyyr <3

[90sbee]

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

[vampiriito]

«Lucky charm »

″she's got the oceans tucked away in her hair, poems swim under her skin.‶

synopsis: after getting saved by a mysterious figure during the hurricane, JJ finds himself falling more in love with the ocean than before.

pairing: JJ x sea nymph! (mermaid) reader

The sky over the Outer Banks was a canvas of swirling grays and purples, a stark contrast to the usual clear blues. The air was thick, heavy with the promise of the storm to come. Hurricane Agatha loomed on the horizon, its foreboding presence sending an eerie calm over the shoreline. The waves, already agitated, rolled in with increasing ferocity, foaming as they crashed against the sandy beach. Seagulls circled above, their cries lost in the rising wind.

JJ Maybank stood at the edge of the water, surfboard tucked under his arm, his gaze fixed on the tumultuous sea. His heart raced, not with fear, but with the exhilarating anticipation that always came before a wild ride. The stormy weather promised the kind of waves that only the most daring surfers would attempt, and JJ was never one to back down from a challenge.

Behind him, his best friend John B approached, his brow furrowed with concern. "JJ, are you seriously thinking about going out there?" he called out, his voice barely audible over the rising wind.

JJ turned, a roguish grin spreading across his face. "Hell yeah, man. These are the kind of waves you dream about. Gotta take the chance when it comes."

John B shook his head, a mixture of admiration and worry in his eyes. "You're crazy, you know that? Agatha's no joke. This storm could get real bad."

"That's what makes it worth it," JJ replied, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the impending adventure. "Besides, you know I can't resist a good challenge."

John B sighed, glancing at the darkening sky. "Just promise me you'll be careful out there. If you get into trouble—"

"I'll be fine," JJ interrupted, slapping his friend on the back. "You worry too much. I'll be back before you know it, with the best ride of my life under my belt."

With that, JJ waded into the churning surf, the cold water lapping at his ankles as he paddled out. The sea was a beast, its power palpable even before the full fury of the hurricane hit. Each stroke brought him closer to the waves that roared like mythical creatures, calling to the daredevil within him.

As he positioned himself for the first big wave, JJ's thoughts were solely on the ride. But the ocean had other plans. A sudden swell caught him off guard, tossing him from his board and pulling him under. The water enveloped him, a chaotic swirl of currents and foam. Panic set in as he struggled to find the surface, his lungs burning for air.

Just as he thought he was done for, he felt hands—strong and steady—pushing him upwards. Gasping for breath, he broke through the surface, the world coming back into focus in a blur of saltwater and sunlight before his vision focused back on the grey clouds. He coughed, spitting out seawater, and caught a fleeting glimpse of something—or someone—diving back into the depths.

For a moment, he treaded water, his mind racing. Had he imagined it? Was it the ocean playing tricks on him? But there was no denying the touch he had felt, the unmistakable feeling of being saved.

Breathing heavily, JJ paddled back to shore, the encounter leaving him both exhilarated and mystified. As he stumbled onto the sand, John B rushed to his side, relief evident on his face. "What happened out there?" John B asked, his eyes wide with concern.

JJ shook his head, still trying to process the experience. "I don't know, man. Something—or someone—pulled me up. It felt... different."

John B frowned, glancing at the roiling sea. "Maybe it was just a lucky current. Or maybe you've got a guardian angel looking out for you."

JJ managed a shaky laugh, though his mind was far from settled. "Yeah, maybe. Whatever it was, I owe it one."

As the first drops of rain began to fall, signaling the true onset of Hurricane Agatha, JJ couldn't shake the feeling that this storm had brought more than just wild waves. It had brought a mystery—one he was determined to uncover.

The rain poured down in sheets, drenching the already soggy island in a curtain of gray. Hurricane Agatha was in full force, its wrath evident in the howling wind and relentless downpour. The air hung heavy with the scent of salt and seaweed, the usual sunny and airy atmosphere replaced with a damp, oppressive air.

Under the pounding rain and howling wind, JJ gathered his soaked belongings, the saltwater seeping through his clothes and into his skin. There was something about this storm that set it apart from the others he had braved before. Maybe it was the way the air tasted, like ozone and electricity. Maybe it was the way the lightning danced across the sky, illuminating the churning clouds like strobe lights. Or maybe it was the weight of the unknown, the knowledge that somethingor someonewas out there.

JJ had always liked the ocean. It was the place he felt the most alive in. Whether it was lounging on the HMS pogue, or swimming on a beach day, JJ was always on the water. He felt like he conquered the waters when he was out surfing. After today, though.. He wasn't so sure.

John B, equally drenched but equally undeterred, stepped up beside him, their eyes both fixed on the horizon "..You really think there was someone out there—with you, i mean?" asked the brunette, casting JJ a skeptical side-glance while he gathered the rest of his soaked belongings.

JJ's fingers curled tighter around his board, the rain running rivulets down his face, mixing with the saltwater from the ocean. He shook his head, his wet hair sticking to his forehead in tangled strands. "Don't know, man. But it definitely felt like something. Someone."

John B raised an eyebrow, his usual good-natured skepticism returning. "Could've just been a current. Or maybe it was the ocean's way of saving your ass from getting drowned. Like in Moana.." John B snorted momentarily, clearly teasing JJ.

JJ shot a glare at John B, his dark eyes narrowing in irritation. He was not in the mood for jokes, not when the mystery of the unseen savior was weighing heavily on his mind. "Yeah, real funny, B. It was a person . I know what I felt."

His gaze returned to the raging ocean, the waves still choppy and white-tipped from the howling storm. The air seemed to crackle with an unseen energy, causing goosebumps to rise on JJ's already chilled skin.

JJ's eyes narrowed, a small frown pulling at the corner of his lips. "When I was pulled up, it was like there was force, a hand pushing me up. And then, I could've sworn I saw something under the water. Maybe a person. Or something else."

John B let out a sigh, running a hand through his wet hair. "JJ, we've been through a lot, but this is a bit much. Mermaids, really?"

JJ rolled his eyes, his usual flippant demeanor tinged with frustrated irritation. He hated being doubted, especially when he knew what he had experienced. "I'm not saying it was a damn mermaid, B. But something saved me. I don't know what it was, but it was there."

He jabbed a finger towards the churning waves, his jaw set defiantly. "I saw something! It wasn't just the water messing with me."

John B fell silent, absorbing the gravity in JJ's tone. He may not have believed entirely, but he knew his best friend well enough to recognize when JJ was serious. The usual glint of mischief was absent from his eyes, replaced by a mix of bewilderment and something akin to fear.

"Okay, say there was something out there," John B began cautiously, his voice barely audible over the rising wind. "What do you think it was? You're not seriously thinking it was a human being, are you?"

JJ huffed, his gaze locked on the churning horizon. The sea roared back at him, waves crashing violently against the shore as if challenging his stare. The sky continued to darken, heavy storm clouds swollen with impending rain looming ominously over the two teens. Despite the first icy droplets pelting their skin, neither made a move to leave the beach. The air was electric, charged not just with the approaching hurricane but with the tension between uncertainty and belief.

"I don't know!" JJ's voice rose to a shout, battling the howling wind. His blond hair whipped around his face, rain mingling with the saltwater still clinging to his skin. "But it wasn't just a current. I felt a hand, JB! Someone pulled me up from under the water and made damn sure I was okay!"

John B studied him closely, noticing the uncharacteristic urgency in JJ's eyes. This wasn't one of his wild tales or exaggerated exploits. There was a sincerity that made John B's skepticism waver.

"A hand?" he echoed, eyebrows knitting together. "In the middle of a brewing hurricane? Who the hell would be out there?"

JJ threw his arms up in exasperation. "That's what I'm trying to figure out! It doesn't make any sense." He glanced back at the tumultuous ocean, frustration etched into his features. "One minute I'm going under, getting tossed around like a rag doll, and the next, I'm being pushed to the surface like it's nothing."

The rain intensified, sheets of water cascading from the heavens, blurring the lines between sky and sea. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low growl that sent a shiver down their spines. Still, they stood their ground, drenched and chilled, anchored by the weight of the unexplained.

John B hesitated before speaking, choosing his words carefully. "Look, man, maybe it was debris, or... I don't know, maybe you got caught in a rip current that pushed you up."

JJ shot him a sharp look, shaking his head. "Rip currents don't grab you, JB. They don't propel you upward just when you're about to black out." His voice dropped, barely audible over the storm. "I saw something—someone—right before I broke the surface. Just for a second."

John B sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair. "Even if there was someone, they'd have to be crazy to be out there in this weather."

"Or not human," JJ muttered under his breath, almost too low for John B to catch.

He raised an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

JJ hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. "Nothing. It's just... It felt different, you know? Like... I can't explain it."

Lightning sliced across the sky, illuminating the fierce waves in a stark, white light. For a brief moment, both boys stared out at the relentless ocean, its surface a chaotic expanse of frothy peaks and dark troughs. The power of Hurricane Agatha was undeniable now, the storm asserting its dominance over land and sea alike.

John B placed a firm hand on JJ's shoulder. "Look, whatever happened out there, we can figure it out later. Right now, we need to get out of here before this storm really unleashes."

JJ nodded reluctantly, casting one last, searching glance toward the turbulent waters. A part of him yearned to dive back in, to confront the mystery head-on. But the rational part knew John B was right. "Yeah, let's go," he conceded, his voice subdued.

As they turned to make their way up the beach, JJ couldn't shake the feeling of unseen eyes upon him. The wind howled, carrying with it the faintest whisper—or was it just his imagination? He looked back over his shoulder, squinting through the sheets of rain. For a split second, he thought he saw a silhouette out in the waves—a graceful form that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"Did you see that?" JJ stopped in his tracks, gripping John B's arm.

John B followed his gaze but saw nothing but the storm's fury. "Come on, man. We need to move!"

With a final, lingering look, JJ allowed himself to be pulled away. But as they trudged through the sand, battling against the gusts, he silently vowed to uncover the truth of what—or who—saved him. The storm might have brought chaos, but it had also brought a mystery that stirred something deep within him—a blend of fear, curiosity, and an unshakable sense of uneasiness.

The rain continued to pelt the two teens, stinging their skin with icy droplets as they hurried away from the unforgiving sea. JJ's hand trembled slightly, the memory of the mysterious rescue still fresh in his mind. "I swear, B," he called to John B over the roar of the storm. "I saw something. Someone out there!"

John B gripped his friend's arm tighter, trying to steer him towards the safety of the trees. "I believe you, JJ. But right now, we need to focus on getting to shelter. We can't do anything while we're soaked and freezing."

The rain only continued to intensify, the sound of it hitting the foliage was almost deafening. The wind howled, causing the trees to bend and sway, as if the forest were alive and in pain.

JJ stumbled, his eyes still fixed on the now-distorted ocean. The sea had transformed into a monstrous beast, its waves monstrous and black as night. "What if whatever it was, is still out there? What if, god forbid, it needs help too?"

John B halted in his steps, turning to squint over his shoulder at the drenched form of his best friend, something akin to disbelief etched between his features "So what do you suggest JJ?!" shouted JB, trying to get his words to carry out fully over the howling wind and deafening sound of the rain in their ears, "You wanna swim out there? look for a person who might as well be dead in those wild waves?"

The teens stopped at the edge of the deserted beach, John B a bit ahead in steps than JJ, his face set into a worried frown "Let's just get to the Twinkie JJ— you can't possibly be suggesting something as crazy, when you were close to drowning yourself!"

JJ's shoulders slumped, the rain dripping off his hair and into his eyes.

"I know it sounds nuts, JB," he said, his voice tinged with frustration and helplessness. "But what if someone's out there, struggling just like I was?" He shivered, whether from the cold or the thought of someone stranded in the turbulent sea, he wasn't sure.

John B sighed, running a hand through his sopping wet hair. "JJ, be reasonable. We'd be like sitting ducks out there. We'd probably drown or get swept away by the current."

"I get that," JJ said, his voice quieter now, but still carrying a hint of determination. "But we can't just do nothing, man. We have to at least check."

John B gave him a stern look, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and fear.

"And what if what you saw was just a trick of the light? Or a hallucination? Maybe you hit your head or something when you were tossed under the water. Maybe you're concussed. We can't risk it, JJ."

JJ wiped the raindrops from his face, frustration building in his chest. "I'm not concussed, alright? I know what I saw. It wasn't a trick of the light."

John B crossed his arms, his expression hardening. "And what if whatever it was, is dangerous? Maybe it pulled you in like bait, and you're just inviting trouble." He gestured to the violent sea behind them. "I mean, look at that! You really wanna test your luck again?"

JJ looked away, unable to deny the truth in John B's words. The ocean was a dangerous place, especially in a storm like this. But the thought of someone, or something, trapped in those treacherous waters gnawed at him like a relentless itch he couldn't scratch. He ran a trembling hand through his damp hair, the rain dripping off his fingers.

"So we just leave it, huh? Pretend like nothing happened?" The words tasted bitter in his mouth, like ashes on his tongue.

John B's eyes fell on the form of his best friend, still staring out at the ocean with a mix of curiosity and determination that seemed to seep into his very being, much like the icy rain was soaking through his clothes. The relentless downpour had drenched his skin, but he barely noticed, his focus entirely on JJ and convincing him to drop this for now and get to the Twinkie.

"We can come back tomorrow, look for any signs of a boat lost out there. Maybe whatever pulled you up was actually a person!"

He sighed, shielding his eyes from the rain with his hand as he looked out at the turbulent waves. The storm was relentless, each gust of wind and crash of the surf a reminder of the danger they faced.

"If you're sure about this, we come back tomorrow. We don't have to pretend like nothing happened! But we can't just go out there, JJ—not on surfboards, not swimming, and most definitely not on a boat!"

JJ hesitated, the weight of his desire to help warring with the knowledge that what John B was proposing made sense. The storm was too dangerous, the odds of finding anyone or anything with no boat were slim to none

"Alright," he finally conceded, "Tomorrow morning, first light. We'll come back and look. But what if whatever it was, is gone by then? What if—" he trailed off, his words swallowed up by a loud rumble of thunder.

John B nodded, a mixture of relief and unease in his features, the sound of the thunder seeming to echo the turmoil in his mind. He knew that the storm was only getting worse, the rain coming down harder and the wind howling like a wounded animal. But he also knew that JJ was stubborn to a fault, and that there was nothing he could do to change his mind once it was made up.

"We've got a deal then." He said, his voice strained by the wind. "But if it's still storming by then, we're not going out there. Understand?"

JJ nodded reluctantly, the rain continuing to pour down around them. "Yeah, I got it. If the storm's still going in the morning, we'll wait. Just... let's get to the Twinkie." He could feel the exhaustion starting to set in, the adrenaline from his near-drowning slowly ebbing away and leaving him battered and fatigued.

With those words, they began to make their way across the beach, struggling against the relentless wind and rain. John B kept a watchful eye on his friend, noticing the slight sway in his step and the paleness of his complexion. He wanted to reach out, help support JJ's weight, but he knew better than to offer - JJ had always been fiercely independent, and any offer of assistance would likely be met with a scoff and a defiant "I'm fine.".

They finally reached the Twinkie, the old van battered and dented but still standing strong. John B pulled open the passenger door, the old hinges squeaking in protest, motioning for JJ to climb inside. "Get in!" he hollered over the wind.

The hurricane was getting relentless by the minutes that passed, and John B was worried how he was gonna drive safely to the Chateau on the vicious rain. JJ climbed in the passenger seat, shutting the door with another squeak barely audible over the sound of the storm around them. He dumped the backpack along with the surf board in the back, running a hand through his wet hair and finally taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. Although they didn't relent, his mind still stuck of whatever or whoever was out there on these weather conditions, knowing just how dangerous the ocean could be.

John B started the engine, the old van roaring to life despite the relentless downpour. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes scanning the road ahead, trying to navigate the treacherous conditions as best he could

The ride was bumpy and slow, the rain making visibility near impossible and the van's age showing in every lurch and groan it made.

Through the windshield, JJ could see the trees swaying wildly in the wind, their branches like tendrils trying to reach out and grasp the van as they passed by.

Inside the van, the atmosphere was as tense as the storm that raged outside. JJ fidgeted with the strap of his seatbelt, his thoughts still consumed by the events of the previous hour. The image of whatever, or whoever, had pulled him from the waves was seared into his mind like a brand, refusing to fade even as they drove further away from the beach.

John B could sense his friend's unease but knew better than to prod just yet. The road was too dangerous, the conditions too unpredictable, and his attention had to stay focused on steering the Twinkie through the storm.

The van rocked and swayed as they crossed a particularly treacherous stretch of road, the rain pounding on the roof like a relentless drumbeat. JJ glanced at John B, noting the tight set of his friend's jaw and the way his knuckles were turning white on the steering wheel. The air in the van was heavy with unspoken thoughts, the wind and rain seeming to drown out even the sound of the Twinkie's engine.

"JJ thinks someone saved him out there in the hurricane," John B piped up with a chuckle, which caused him to cough up some smoke. He passed the joint to his girlfriend, Sarah, earning a questioning look from both Pope and Kiara. "When he was surfing in conditions beyond human safety?" asked Kiara, the brunette, with a small smile.

JJ was leaning against the old railing of the porch, frowning as his best friends watched him with amused yet worried expressions. He knew what he felt and he was sticking to his story, despite John B's teasing. "That's why I want us to go out there today, look for a boat or something," JJ insisted.

"Yep," nodded John B, popping the 'p.' "He wants us to go investigate the vast ocean—after a hurricane, mind you—to look for possible survivors. Or mermaids..." He snorted, causing Pope to chuckle at the mere thought of a mermaid.

"Shut up, man," JJ grumbled, feeling the sting of his friends' skepticism but refusing to back down. "Just cause it sounds crazy, doesn't mean it's not true. I know what I felt out there."

Pope, who had been quietly listening, leaned back in his seat and looked at JJ. "Dude, you were caught in a major hurricane. It's possible you were just hallucinating or something."

"I'm not hallucinating, Pope," JJ retorted, his frustration growing. "I'm telling you, something—or someone—grabbed me and pulled me out of the water."

Kiara, who also had been silently assessing the situation, looked at JJ with a more serious expression. "You really think someone was out there?" she asked.

JJ nodded, the conviction in his eyes evident. "I do. It happened too fast for me to get a good look but I felt it—I know it wasn't just the current or something."

John B, still skeptical, took a drag from the joint before passing it back. "And you're sure it wasn't, I don't know, a piece of seaweed or something? That can get tangled pretty quick."

"No, it wasn't seaweed!" JJ snapped, growing irritated with John B's persistent disbelief. "It was a hand, man. A hand grabbed me and pulled me up. I could feel the fingers and everything."

Pope rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Are you sure it wasn't a fish? Maybe a giant one, like a tuna or something."

"It definitely wasn't a damn fish, Pope!" JJ exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "And it wasn't a hallucination either. I know what I felt."

Sarah, who had been quiet thus far, chose that moment to chime in. "What if it was a sea monster?" she said, only half-joking.

JJ shot her a look, appreciating the small show of support, but still annoyed at the overall lack of belief in his tale. "It wasn't a sea monster, Sarah."

Kiara leaned forward in her chair, a pensive look on her face. "Okay, let's say hypothetically you're right. Let's say someone was out there in the water with you. What would they be doing out there in a hurricane?"

"If it was a sea monster, they usually live in the water Kie. No matter the weather condition." snorted Sarah in amusement, causing Kiara to roll her eyes half heartedly.

John B chuckled at Sarah's comment, smoke puffing out from between his teeth. "Yeah, a sea monster's totally logical."

Pope shook his head, still not fully convinced. "I hate to break it to you, JJ, but the chances of some mysterious savior pulling you from the water in the middle of a hurricane are pretty slim."

"I don't care about the slim chances!" JJ retorted, his frustration reaching its peak. "I know what I felt, and I'm not gonna just sit here and ignore it. I need to know who or what saved me."

The friends fell into an awkward silence, torn between humoring JJ and questioning his sanity.

And JJ could see it in their eyes. Of course they didn't believe him, it was a hurricane and he was the only one insane enough to go out surfing on such weather conditions. The theory of a boat being out there was slim as Pope said. If there were any survivors from the shipwreck they wouldn't be concerned about the safety of a dumb, adrenaline-junkie surfer. JJ knew that much. But something pulled him out of the water, right before he was about to black out. He wasn't insane or hallucinating. He didn't smoke before going out on the water. Not too much.

A human that managed to survive a boat being swept underwater by howling wind and monstruos waves wasn't gonna save another human who was out to surf the same waters. They'd be trying to swim to the shore and get dry, to safety from the hurricane and coast guard to help find the rest of the people on that boat. Not dive back into the water and swim further away from shore. Just like he saw. The silhouette dived back in swiftly, and swam away in the opposite direction of the shore.

So going out there to look for a shipwreck was— quite frankly stupid. Because JJ saw no boat in his near vicinity when surfing. "..Look i know you all think this is stupid." muttered JJ, his voice much quieter, "I know 'survivor of a shipwreck' sounds like a stretch. But I'm going out there alone, if i have to. You don't have to entertain this whole thing if you think I'm insane or if you think this is funny." he glared at the four pogues, running a hand through his messy sun-bleached hair.

He knew if that was a human, the chances of them being alive still, were again, slim. Probably none existent. It had been more than 12 hours since the hurricane. People were busy with cleaning their yards and buying generators to have power in their houses. He knew he was safe now that the hurricane was over.

His friends' gazes remained on him, silently contemplating his words. Pope broke the silence first, his voice laced with uncertainty. "JJ, are you sure about this? It's gonna be dangerous."

Kiara nodded in agreement, her brow furrowed in concern. "Yeah, and it's not like we can guarantee there's actually someone out there."

Sarah spoke up too, her tone a mix of worry and doubt. "And what if it's not a person? What if it's something dangerous...?"

John B's expression softened, and he leaned forward in his chair. "JJ, look, man," he began, his tone serious. "I know you think you felt something, but going out there alone is crazy. What if you get into trouble again? We don't even know what we're looking for."

JJ gritted his teeth, his determination growing stronger with each passing moment. "I don't care. I have to find out what happened out there. And I don't need you guys to babysit me. I can take care of myself."

"If it was a boat out there.. we can look on the beach. Or in the marsh.." interjected Sarah, trailing off her sentence. She didn't want to outright say it but if there was a human out there as the same time as JJ, looking on the beach for starters might actually help them find evidence of anything getting washed up on the sandy shoreline. Like a body. "To see if anything washed up on the sand.."

Kiara's eyes widened, her mind quickly catching up to Sarah's implication. "Yeah, and if we don't find anything, we can check the marshlands."

Pope nodded in agreement, the possibility of finding evidence giving them a small sense of hope. "It's worth a shot, JJ. But you have to promise you won't go out there alone."

JJ opened his mouth to protest, but John B cut him off. "No way, man. If we're doing this, we're doing it together. No more reckless solo missions."

JJ sighed, the fight slowly leaving his eyes. "Fine. But I'm warning you, this could be a wild goose chase."

John B clapped him on the back. "It probably is, but we're in it together. And if there is someone out there, we'll find 'em."

The boneyard, usually a haven of tranquility, has been turned into a desolate and battered landscape. The sand is wet and compacted, covered in a thick layer of seaweed, broken shells, and scattered debris. Pieces of driftwood, uprooted plants, and even remnants of beach furniture lie strewn about, evidence of the storm's relentless power.

The shoreline is littered with flotsam and jetsam, items carried ashore by the turbulent waves—plastic bottles, fishing nets, you name it.

Sand dunes, once gently sloping and covered in delicate grasses, are now eroded and reshaped, their surfaces pockmarked and uneven. The grasses are flattened or completely washed away, leaving behind exposed roots and sand. Small pools of water have formed in low-lying areas, remnants of the storm surge that inundated the beach.

The vegetation near the beach is damaged, with palm fronds torn and scattered, and other plants bent or broken. Trees that stood resilient against lesser storms now lie fallen or precariously tilted, their roots torn from the saturated ground.

The infamous beach that was once filled with tourists and people in bikinis looking to tan on the sand or surf the waves is now sprinkled with groups of locals trying to bring the beach back to its glory after being ravished by the hurricane. But JJ and his best friends are not here to clean the beach. After their search in the marshlands(which turned up as a dead lead) and JJ's insistences the group hopped off the HMS pogue for the time being.

JJ was determined to find something. Anything that backed up his story and helped his image in front of his very amused friends. The remnants of a boat? Maybe a shipwreck? He was more than convinced they should've just went out on the water, look for a boat that sunk to prove that he wasn't insane, but they weren't thrilled on going out on the ocean a day after a hurricane. So he had to stick to roaming the cluttered beach looking for anything.

Sarah, Pope, Kiara, and John B followed slightly behind JJ, their eyes glued to the ground, searching for something—anything. Each of them carried a bag to collect any potential evidence they could find.

Kiara kept glancing at JJ, noticing the intensity in his expression. She wasn't sure if he was determined or just plain stubborn. "JJ, slow down, will ya? We're not gonna find anything if we keep rushing through everything."

JJ huffed, his frustration clear. "We're wasting time! We should've just went out on the water. I know what I felt out there."

Pope rolled his eyes, his arm filled with debris, most likely not related to any possible survivor. "And what did you feel, exactly? A magical sea beast rescuing you?"

JJ shot Pope a dirty look but before he could retort, Sarah spoke up. "I hate to admit it, but Pope has a point. Did you actually see anything in the water? Or was it just a feeling?"

JJ paused, his gaze flickering across his friends' faces. "I didn't see anything. It was just... a sense. A touch. Someone grabbed me and pulled me to the surface."

John B raised an eyebrow, skepticism in his gaze. "You sure it wasn't just a wave or a current?"

JJ bristled at his best friend's doubt, his expression hardening. "I know the difference between a wave and a person, John B. I could feel a hand grasp my arm, yanking me up."

Kiara, her expression now more sympathetic than suspicious, approached him slowly. "JJ, you've been through a lot lately. Maybe you just imagined it? Stress and exhaustion can play tricks on your mind."

JJ clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. "I know what I felt, Kie. It wasn't in my head."

Pope shrugged, his skepticism still present. "We haven't found a single piece of evidence. Maybe it's time to accept that you were confused."

JJ spun around, his hands balling into fists. "I'm telling you, there's something out there! Y'all think I'm crazy, but I know what happened. So either y'all can believe me or not, but I ain't stopping till I find proof of what saved me."

Sarah and John B exchanged a glance, both clearly not convinced by JJ's insistence. John B sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Alright, JJ. We'll keep looking, but let's keep our expectations in check. It's more likely that what you felt was just a current, nothing more."

Kiara nodded, setting down a few pieces of trash. "We're on your side, JJ. We just don't wanna see you get all worked up over something that might not be real."

JJ nodded reluctantly, the fire in his eyes dimming just a bit. "Fine, fine. But if I find anything, y'all better believe I won't let ya go a day without hearing about it."

John B chuckled as Pope facepalmed, a small smirk on his face. "Of course you wouldn't. You're never one to let things go."

As the group continued their search, JJ remained unusually quiet. The skepticism of his friends stung, but he refused to let it dampen his determination. He was convinced he had felt something— someone —pull him from the churning ocean.

He knew there was a chance he could be wrong, but deep down, he could feel the truth in his bones and the physical touch on his skin. The day was slipping between the group's fingers like sand, and JJ could feel their looks on his back practically heart their thoughts. This was indeed a wild goose chase and they should've spent the day cleaning up after the hurricane not wander the beach like headless chicken looking for... nothing.

But as the walked further down the beach, JJ strayed a bit from his best friends. Mostly to clear his head and take a breather from the judgmental looks. He found himself stepping into one of the small caves on the beach he knew all to well, having explored it and went for swims with his friends a couple of times.

The beach cave was tucked away at the far end of the shoreline, partially hidden by a rocky outcrop. Its entrance was a wide, yawning mouth, framed by jagged rocks that jutted out like ancient sentinels guarding the secrets within. The cave walls, worn smooth by centuries of wind and waves, were adorned with intricate patterns of erosion, creating a tapestry of swirls and grooves.

As JJ stepped inside, the temperature dropped noticeably, and the sound of the crashing waves outside became a distant murmur. The air was cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of salt and seaweed. The floor of the cave was a mix of fine sand and pebbles devoid of any debris and clutter and trash, washed in by the tides that occasionally reached into its depths.

Light filtered in from the entrance, casting a soft, ethereal glow on the cave's interior. The further JJ ventured, the dimmer it became, with only the occasional shaft of sunlight piercing through cracks and crevices in the ceiling. These beams of light illuminated the cave in a celestial manner, creating pockets of brightness amidst the shadows.

Stalactites hung from the ceiling, their pointed forms glistening with moisture, while stalagmites rose from the ground, their rough surfaces reflecting the soft light. In some places, these formations had joined together to create columns, like the pillars of a forgotten temple. The sound of dripping water echoed softly, a rhythmic accompaniment to the hushed ambiance.

At the back of the cave, a small pool of crystal-clear water had formed, fed by an underground spring. The water was still and serene, its surface reflecting the cave's natural beauty like a mirror. Tiny fish darted beneath the surface, their movements creating ripples that danced across the pool.

JJ stood at the back of the cave, his gaze fixed on the tranquil pool. The silence around him was almost deafening, only broken by the intermittent sound of dripping water echoing softly through the cave. His mind was still swirling with the earlier events of the day—the hurricane, his friends' skepticism, and the nagging thought that maybe they were right. Maybe he had just imagined the feeling of someone saving him.

He knelt down next to the pool, his hand reaching out to touch the cool water. As his fingers skimmed the surface, the reflection of his face rippled, distorted by the movement.

He sighed, sitting down fully onto the soft, grainy sand by the pool, his shoulders slumped in defeat. The doubts he had tried to keep at bay were creeping in, eating at his confidence.

"Maybe I am going crazy..." He muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper, almost in trance with his thoughts. As JJ sat there, taking in his surroundings and preparing for the inevitable chorus of "i told you so" from his friends when he ventured out of the cave, something caught his eye.

There was something, he couldn't really see what in the dim light of the cave, but it stuck out like a sore thumb in the stoney setting. JJ's heartbeat sped up in anticipation. The anticipation that he might be right. He stood up walking along the edge of the small pool of water, approaching the mysterious.. thing. His boots padded softly against the cave floor, the sound of his footsteps echoing the anticipation in his head. The closer he got, the better he could see the outline of the mystery object. It looked to be a bundle of seaweed, but the arrangement was too precise, too deliberate.

Finally reaching it, JJ knelt by the edge of the pool, his fingers reaching out to touch the object. He carefully pushed aside the tangled mass of green and brown to reveal... A person? A girl nonetheless. Her eyes were closed and she looked like she was asleep. Which scared JJ, because what if he came across a corpse. What was he gonna do? He stumbled back a little, staring at the unmoving body of the mystery girl, covered in seaweed.

JJ's mind raced as he tried to process what lay before him. A girl? Here, in the depths of this secluded cave he used to use for hiding or cooling off? And she wasn't moving, her eyes were closed, she looked... dead. JJ's hand trembled as he reached out to touch her pale cheek, expecting it to be cold to the touch.

But instead, she was warm. And her skin was soft.

His eyes widened in surprise as he felt the warmth radiating from her skin. She was alive, but unconscious. JJ's mind was still spinning with conflicting thoughts, but he couldn't just leave her here. He tried to shake her shoulder gently, trying to get a response. But nothing. She remained limp and unresponsive. He tried again, a bit more forcefully this time.

"Hey," he said, his voice a soft murmur. "Hey, wake up..."

The girl showed no signs of stirring, her eyes remained closed and her body unresponsive. JJ was growing more agitated by the second. He tried to keep his voice calm, to not panic, but his thoughts were racing. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? He tried shaking her again, harder this time. He needed her to wake up, to wake up so he could ask questions, figure out what was going on.

"Come on," he said, slightly frustrated now. "Wake up, goddamn it—"

His words died in his throat as her eyes finally fluttered open. They were a deep, mesmerizing shade of dark purple, almost like the ocean under a beautiful sunset, and they stared at him blankly for a moment before focusing (which he swore he saw the glow faintly for a second). She looked shocked, dazed, unsure of her surroundings. Her gaze darted around wildly until finally landing on JJ, and she slowly began to sit up.

When she did so, JJ's shock grew even more, which melted into flusteredness when he realized she was naked. Aside from being covered in seaweed, she was in fact, naked. He averted his eyes trying to calm his panicked brain and try and make what he could of the situation at hand.

There was a girl. Which laid here unconscious until JJ found her, and although he expected her to start coughing up water, she didn't. Instead she sat there her arms wrapped around her chest, staring blankly at JJ. As if this was a normal day on the beach and he had interrupted her from tanning in the sun topless. He didn't know ho long this girl had been laying here, or if she managed to survive a shipwreck of any sorts.

Then there were her eyes. Purple, first of all. Who has purple eyes? No one. At least no one that JJ knew. In the low light her hair seemed black, but when she shifted a little, causing the filtering sun from a crack in the ceiling to shine down on the top of her hair, JJ realized it was a navy, dark blue. Which unlike her eyes wasn't weird. Many people had blue hair. Hair dye wasn't uncommon.

JJ's cheeks burned red as he desperately tried to find something to shield his eyes from her naked form. He looked around desperately, hoping to find a piece of fabric or something, anything to cover her up. But there was nothing. The cave was almost bare other than a few random rocks strewn about.

His gaze flicked back to her involuntarily, unable to resist the pull of her purple eyes. They were hypnotizing, almost glowing in the dim light. And her hair, it was almost too perfect. He'd never seen someone with such flawless hair, let alone in this condition, sure it was wet but it was perfect and long; sticking to her shoulders and flowing down her back from what he could see. Something was off about her...

JJ finally realized he was still staring at her and quickly looked away again, clearing his throat awkwardly. He had to say something, break the silence. But what?

"Uh," he started, trying to keep his voice steady. "Are you... alright?" It was a dumb question, but it was all he could think of to say. He could see her shiver slightly, and his heart ached for a moment before he realized why she was shivering.

"You're... um, cold."

You blinked, completely silent, and unphased by JJ's awkwardness. Your arms were still wrapped around your chest, which rose up and down gently while you breathed. Your eyes were assessing the blond in front of you. He looked panicked, scared, shocked, awkward, and you weren't entirely sure what to say. Or more importantly how to say it.

JJ noticed her unwavering composure. Despite her being the one who had washed up naked and unconscious on a beach, she seemed completely unaffected. Her gaze was fixed on him, watching him like a hawk, and it made him even more unsettled. He tried to collect himself, running a shaky hand through his messy blond hair.

"I, uh..." he started, then trailed off. He needed to say something, anything, to break the eerie silence.

"You're... naked."

You stared at JJ for another beat before looking down, shifting a little to stare and analyze your own body. Your eyes fell onto your legs, and you wiggled your toes a little, raising one foot of the sand as if to inspect it. There was a hint of smile pulling at your lips, as you rolled your ankle to study your foot.

JJ was growing more unsettled by the minute. The silence was deafening, and her unwavering blank stare was starting to make him feel like he was losing his mind. He tried to ignore the shiver that went up his spine as her eyes darted over his form, looking almost analytical in a way.

He shifted uncomfortably, the silence feeling almost like a physical force now. He looked towards the crack in the roof, noticing that the light had started to fade. Nightfall was coming, and he couldn't leave her here alone.

After doing so for a few moments, you stood up without a warning. The seaweed slid off your body, but you didn't seem to care. Your only focus was on standing up on your feet, swaying slightly as your tried to take a step, your smile growing a fraction.

Panic flashed across JJ's face as she got up so suddenly. His words died in his throat as he watched her, his eyes roaming over her form again before he remembered he was trying not to look at her.

She wobbled for a moment before steadying herself, and then took a tentative step forward. Her bare feet left prints in the sand, and her wet hair clung to her skin. She seemed to be testing out her legs, as if she just suddenly realized she had them. JJ found it odd, but more than that he found himself being drawn in by her strange behavior.

He watched as she took another step, her movements graceful but uncoordinated, las if her feet were sore and she had trouble walking. With each step she grew more confident, and the smile that had been flickering on her lips moments before widened into a grin. JJ found it captivating. It was like she was discovering the ability to walk for the first time, and the joy was palpable.

She took another step, and then another, her gaze fixed on the ground as if she was exploring the world through her feet. JJ had never seen anything like it.

She continued to walk around the cave, her steps more confident now, almost skipping. Each time her feet connected with the ground, she let out a soft little laugh. It was a strange sound, but there was something soothing about it. JJ found himself watching her with a mix of fascination and worry. This girl was clearly not from around here (or entirely right in the head?), but he was more fascinated by her sudden strange behavior.

She looked like she was having the time of her life, the way she skipped around in a circle. It was almost as if she was dancing to a song only she could hear and JJ didn't know what to make of it.

Meanwhile, you forgot momentarily about JJ, trying to steady your steps as your feet connected with the wet sand of the cave. It was so much more interesting than it looked. It felt strange too. But you didn't find it unpleasant. You raised your eyes from the ground fixing them on the blond who was standing there silently baffled, trying not to stare at you. Too much. If that was possible given you were completely naked and instead of being scared or disoriented, you almost skipped joyously.

"Uh..." JJ found himself at a loss for words, watching as she came to a sudden halt. She looked at him, her gaze curious and almost innocent, as if she was waiting for him to do or say something.

He cleared his throat, his eyes darting awkwardly between her face and the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but the rest of her.

"You, uh..." he started again, his mind a jumble of thoughts and emotions. Where did she come from? Why was she acting this way? And why couldn't he stop staring?

He took a tentative step towards her, his eyes still avoiding her body. But her gaze was fixed on him, watching him curiously.

"You, uh, do you... know where you are?" he asked, mentally cursing himself for the stupid question. Of course, she wouldn't know, she had just washed up here completely naked, alone, and dazed.

You looked up as if mulling over his question. You sort of did know where you were but not really, so you just shook your head.

A small pang of concern flared in JJ's chest at your answer, but he quickly shoved it down. He tried to think of his next question, but her gaze was still fixed on him, studying him intently, and it was throwing off his thought process.

"Do you... know who you are?" he asked, his voice coming out quieter than he'd intended.

You took a moment to answer this time, your brow furrowing slightly. Your face almost looked troubled, like you were trying to remember something. JJ almost held his breath, waiting for you to say something, anything.

It was almost a whole minute before you replied. When you spoke your voice was quiet, soft, and tinged with what almost sounded like confusion.

"No." came your reply, arms still wrapped around your chest protectively.

Something about the way she answered, her voice soft and tinged with confusion, shot a pang of sympathy through JJ. She didn't know who she was, where she was, she knew nothing.

He took another tentative step forward, his need to comfort her overcoming his awkwardness in speaking with a naked girl he'd just met in a beach cave. He stopped barely an arm's length away from her, her eyes still locked on his, and he resisted the urge to look down at her. He needed to focus.

"Okay," he said quietly, "okay."

He racked his brain for something, anything, to say. He felt completely out of his depth. What were you supposed to say in situations like this? But here was this strange girl who had washing up on their beach, naked, alone, and with no idea who she was.

His eyes darted over her again, trying to assess the situation. She looked fine, her skin was a little damp from the water, and she was shivering slightly in the cool air. But her eyes were clear, her gaze still intent on him.

JJ was speechless. You were strange, just laying in this cave motionless before he found you by accident and for all he knew you were probably missing in some place. Maybe the mainland. At least he was lucky you were not dead. How was he gonna explain that he just casually found a dead body in this cave to his friends. Right, his friends! He needed to get you to his friends.

For all JJ knew you could have helped him yesterday out in the water and not remembered. He had to rub it in their faces. And if not they at least needed to get out of the cave before nightfall came and they were stuck in a damp, dark and quite frankly scary cave,

He was so tangled up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice you shiver suddenly. But, when he heard the chattering of your teeth, it shook him from his trance and he looked down at you.

"You're cold," he stated matter-of-factly.

Realizing he shouldn't let you get hypothermia, he took off his zip-up green hoodie and draped it over your shoulders. "Here," he said, gently pushing it around you. You clutched the material, immediately wrapping it closer around yourself, and he tried not to stare as it covered up your bare chest.

You tugged the fabric, looking down at the zip up hoodie now rapped up around you. You seemed to look up again, as if trying to remember a word you had forgotten before speaking up for the second time since you up. "Thanks.. you?"

The words were a bit disjointed and there was some sort of accent to your voice? No, like you couldn't pronounce the words. And the expression of gratitude was wrong. It was 'thanks you' instead of the normal usual one. But JJ wasn't the language police. What the hell was he doing critiquing your speaking and the way you thanked him when you could've been concussed for all he knew.

JJ's brow furrowed as you spoke, the hint of an unfamiliar accent not lost on him. He tried to place it but couldn't quite put his finger on it. It seemed like you weren't a local, but he wasn't sure where you were from exactly.

"You're welcome," he replied, his words a bit clunky, trying to ignore how odd it was to hold a conversation with a naked girl he had just met in a cave.

He took a deep breath, trying to think of what to do next.

He knew he couldn't just leave you alone, not with no memory of who you were.

"Look, I'm gonna take you somewhere safe, alright?" he said, leaning down slightly to make eye contact with you. "Somewhere you can get warm, dry off, and maybe figure some things out."

"Somewhere safe.." you mumbled almost reverently as if you were testing the words on your tongue. You watched JJ intently, eyes fixed into his baby blue ones when he leaned in slightly. He looked interesting, just like you but different in a way. Maybe because he was from up here. "That's good.." you nodded, your words still chopped and disjointed in JJ's ears.

He had to get you to his best friends as soon as possible.

JJ's heartbeat quickened at your words, your accent only adding to the mystery surrounding you. He tried to figure out where you were from but couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He nodded in agreement at your response, "Yeah, it'll be safe there. I have friends. They can help."

He wasn't quite sure how his friends would react to the strange girl with no memory he'd found on the beach, but he had to try. He extended a hand towards you.

Your eyes fell onto his extended hand, and then to your own clutching the fabric of the zip-up hoodie around you. You looked up at him then, and JJ understood you didn't really know what to make of his gesture if that was possible. Or you just didn't wanna take his hand in fear that the hoodie won't sit wrapped around you snuggly, keeping you warm. Which puzzled him. Did you even know how use the zipper of it? Did you knew that you didn't have to hold it wrapped around you and just zip it?

"Friends?" you asked quizzically, wrapping the hoodie around you even tighter, still not simply zipping it up.

JJ watched you clutch the fabric of the hoodie around you tighter and tighter, realizing you didn't seem to know how to use it properly.

He chuckled softly, finding your confusion endearing. He nodded in response to your question. "Yeah, friends. Good people. They'll help us."

He took a step closer, gesturing to the hoodie. "You don't have to hold it like that, you know. You can just zip it up."

You looked at him with wide eyes, processing his words. He could see the wheels turning in your mind as you tried to understand what he meant. It was as if the simple concept of a zipper was foreign to you.

JJ realized that he had to show you how to use the hoodie. He stepped closer, his hand gently touching yours, guiding you to the zipper. "Here, let me show you."

He slowly unzipped the hoodie, then carefully zipped it back up, making sure the garment fit snuggly around you, protecting you from the cold of the cave.

You shifted on your feet after he zipped it up, smiling down at the hoodie as it was zipped up and protecting you from the chill of the cave or JJ's eyes, almost mesmerized at how the zipper worked. You locked eyes with him, holding your hand out just like he did, not stepping closer, just extending out your hand.

It seemed like you were more imitating JJ's gesture rather than offering him your hand to hold, and he found it even more strange. Your palm was extended stiffly and you turned your hand from side to side inspecting it, parting your fingers curiously.

JJ watched you closely, noticing the way you looked at the hoodie with fascination, as if you had never seen one before. But what caught his attention more was your attempt at imitating his gesture, extending your hand awkwardly.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion, watching as you inspected your own hand, turning it from side to side. It was bizarre, and he wondered what you were thinking.

"What are you doing?" he asked gently, curious about your strange behavior.

You held out your hand closer to his face, parting your fingers and turning your hand as if showing it to JJ. You then pointed to his own hand, the same look of intense thought flitting over your features before you mumbled while stepping closer, "same.."

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as he leaned in closer, trying to understand what you meant. You held out your hand, parting your fingers and turning it, as if showing it to him. Then you pointed to his own hand, mumbling the word "same."

JJ's eyes widened as he realized what you were trying to say. You were comparing your hand to his, noting the similarities in your gesture.

"Yeah," he said, holding his hand next to yours. "They look the same."

JJ stood next to you, his hand extended next to yours, trying to understand you better. He found your behavior odd yet fascinating. It was as if you were learning about the world for the first time, discovering even the simplest things.

He watched as you stared at his hand next to yours, still marveling at how identical they looked. Then, without warning, you suddenly reached out and took his hand in yours, holding it up to the light.

You grabbed his pointer finger and parted it from the middle one as if looking and expecting something between the fingers. Your deep purple eyes were focused on the space between his fingers before falling onto his rings, grazing your fingers over one of them, "Very shiny." you smiled, looking up at him with raised brows.

JJ watched you with a mix of amusement and fascination as you explored his hand. The way you examined his fingers and marveled at his rings intrigued him. He couldn't help but chuckle at your comment, a small smile forming on his face.

"Yeah, they are," he agreed, holding up his hand, and the light flickered on the silver ring on his finger. "You like shiny things, huh?"

He noticed how you seemed drawn to his rings, fascinated by their glinting beauty. It was as if you had never seen such adornments before, which added to the mystery surrounding you. JJ couldn't help but find your innocence endearing. He held up his hand, allowing the light to bounce off his rings, creating mesmerizing patterns on the cave walls.

"They're called rings," he explained gently. "They're pretty, right?"

"Pretty?" you asked, raising your brows in question now. Your eyes followed his hand, eyes fixed on his ring almost in awe.

JJ chuckled softly at your response, amused by your innocent curiosity. He could tell you were a bit out of touch with the world, but that only added to the charm.

"Yes, pretty," he nodded, holding up his hand again. "They're meant to look nice and draw attention. This one's my favorite."

He pointed to a specific ring on his finger, a simple silver band with a small stone embedded in it.

You inspected the small ring, your finger brushing over the small blue stone with a mesmerized curiosity. When you heard the word favorite it seemed like you remembered something, your face lighting up. You turned your head to the side, moving your hair out of the way to expose the back of your neck. JJ squinted slightly, trying to figure out what he was looking at, or what he was supposed to see.

He expected a necklace or maybe even earrings but what he saw made him even curious, if that was the correct word for what was happening. There was a small, blueish starfish on the back of your neck, its color vibrant and lively, the creature looking alive and well. Scratch that, not on— in your skin. Like it was embedded there, or grew on its own. Around it there were small seashells and even corrals growing? from your skin. Was he hallucinating? Was that a tattoo?

"Favorite." you muttered smiling, turning to face him again and let your damp hair fall over the back of your neck and cover whatever JJ saw.

JJ had expected to see a tattoo or a necklace, but what he found was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The small starfish, corals, and seashells seemed to grow from your skin, and it was both captivating and puzzling. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? Yet your calm demeanor and cheerful smile suggested this bizarre spectacle was entirely normal to you. JJ's mind raced, trying to process the impossible sight before him, but he quickly composed himself as you turned back, your damp hair concealing your extraordinary neck.

"Um...yeah," he managed to say, still stunned. "That's... very unique."

JJ's mind was still trying to comprehend what he had seen, but he tried his best to maintain a calm facade. However, a million questions swirled in his head, each one more baffling than the last. Were you the result of some genetic experiment gone wrong? Or maybe you weren't even human at all? He decided to keep those thoughts to himself, not wanting to cause you any distress.

He tried to think of something to say, but his usual easy banter failed him. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Did it hurt?"

"Hurt?" you asked, brows furrowing in confusion. "No." you shook your head, as if he was asking a stupid question. Which baffled JJ even more. He had to get you to his friends. As soon as possible. If he didn't, he'd think he was imagining all of this.

That's when he noticed it. The small seashells and corals were trailing from the back of your neck, scattered over your skin like freckles maybe? They trailed off on your shoulder, hidden away by the hoodie he had given you and he was wondering how he didn't notice them when you were... well, completely naked. Maybe it was the shock of finding you unconscious in this cave, and his efforts to not stare at your naked body.

JJ's eyes traced the path of the seashells and corals, noticing how they extended beyond your neck and onto your shoulder. He realized that he must've been too focused on ensuring your modesty earlier to fully take in the extent of these strange markings. His curiosity grew as he pondered the possibility that they might extend further down your body...

Clearing his throat, he tried to keep his voice casual. "Do they... go anywhere else?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, not understanding why this was a notable subject. "Yes. They do." you said simply. Of course. That made sense. Why did he feel his own cheeks warming? He was being ridiculous, trying to act as if this was not a shocking thing to happen. But why was the thought of them continuing down your body making his heart beat faster?

You gestured towards your back vaguely, you seemed oblivious to his curiosity, to the fact that you were showing him something completely and utterly abnormal, completely out from his world. Completely out of this world. And that you had done so the moment he woke you up. And still, you managed to be adorable. How were you even real?

JJ was struggling to remain composed, the mixture of curiosity and fascination battling with the surrealness of the situation. You spoke so simply, so nonchalantly, as if this was normal, as if you were not a walking contradiction. Normal yet abnormal, familiar yet utterly strange, adorable yet enigmatic. He found himself entranced, wanting to know more.

He couldn't help but wonder just how far those markings extended. The thought of them running down your back, across your... He quickly shook off that thought.

He cleared his throat and tried to sound casual again. "Um... can I see?" He mentally cursed himself for phrasing it that way. It sounded wrong. "I mean, if you're okay with it, I'd like to see where they go."

You shook your head, fidgeting with the hem of the hoodie. Of course. You were naked underneath. What was he asking you? He should get you out of the cave and to his friends. Get you clean clothes and try and figure out what the hell was he witnessing. And if you had anything to do with him being saved from drowning yesterday, out on the treacherous waters.

You looked down almost thoughtfully, before pointing to the top of your head. JJ stepped closer, too curious to stop himself, too eager to see what you were gonna show him next. He had to squint in the dim light of the cave, your fingers parting your hair a little to reveal.. Small tube-shaped corals, growing out of your head like horns. Just one tube on each side of your head, small dark reddish-brown corals.

Okay JJ was definitely hallucinating. Did you actually have them growing from your scalp too? And the sea-creatures seemed alive, like they were still underwater. And not on someone's body, on dry land.

JJ's mind reeled. First, the starfish growing on the nape of your neck, and now these horn-like corals on your scalp? This had to be some bizarre dream, some crazy scenario his brain had conjured up. But as he watched, the corals seemed to pulse with a subtle but rhythmic motion, as if they were alive, like the sea creatures they resembled.

He reached out, almost involuntarily, and touched one of the corals gently. It felt solid, tangible, unlike anything he had ever felt before.

A surprised gasp escaped his lips. The texture, the way it moved... it was unmistakably organic. These were not decorations, not some weird trick. They were a part of you, grown from your skin, as if you were some sort of walking reef.

His thoughts raced, trying to understand, to find a logical explanation for this bizarre sight, but all that came to mind was confusion and fascination.

"How...?" he started, then stopped himself, his eyes now roaming over your neck and shoulders, noticing more growths peeking out from underneath the hoodie you wore.

As his fingertips brushed against the corals, he could swear he felt a strange sort of electrical current. It was faint, like a gentle hum under his touch, a hint of some hidden energy.

His mind raced, trying to make sense of what he seeing, what he was feeling. Was this some form of mutation? Magic? Or was he just losing his mind? But you just ruffled your hair gently, covering the small coral tubes. Your expression was almost questioning, as if his bewilderment was abnormal. As if he was shocked at seeing something as common as a mole or a freckle.

Your nonchalant demeanor only baffled JJ more. It was as if having corals—no, whole ecosystems it seemed—growing out of your skin was the most normal, commonplace thing in the world.

His fingers lingered for a moment longer on the coral he'd touched, feeling the faint hum of energy beneath his fingertips. It was surreal, like trying to grasp a phantom. What were you?

"These..." he began, shaking his head slightly in disbelief still. "... They're real? They grow from your skin? How... is that even possible?"

You shifted on your spot, wiggling your toes in awe and looking down at your feet. You wanted to speak, but it seemed like your vocabulary was very limited. At least from what JJ heard when you spoke. Small one word responses, or just straight up repeating the words he'd said.

"They don't hurt." you mumbled, raising your eyes to lock them with his. You fell silent once again, fidgeting with your fingers. Although this was a slightly longer response, it still sounded chopped, and the look of concentration on your face told JJ that you were probably trying to find the right words. "These are my favorites." you added.

JJ's expression remained a mix of fascination and confusion. Hearing you speak in short, simple sentences added to the surreal feeling of the situation. It was like hearing a child talk, but even that didn't seem quite right.

He followed your gaze down at your feet and then back up to your face. The way you talked about them—these strange, living growths—as if they were just regular body parts, favorites at that.

He shook his head slightly, still trying to process it all. "Favorites?" he echoed, his voice laced with bemusement.

"Yes. Pretty." you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. And he realized that you were talking about these things just like he was talking about his rings. Showing him your favorites and feeling strangely proud over them.

Your smile, so simple yet so sincere, took him slightly off guard. To you, these corals, these strange things growing from every part of your body, were just like his favorite rings, bracelets or necklaces.

He ran a hand through his already messy hair, trying to wrap his head around everything. But despite the strangeness of it all, there was something oddly endearing about the way you were showing off, proud even.

He chuckled softly, a disbelieving shake of his head. "Pretty, huh?"

This felt like a fever dream. He was still in disbelief that you were even real. That you stood in front of him, having a conversation with him, in the middle of an empty cave—naked, for christ's sake—and casually showing off some corals, shell and sea-creatures that were growing out of your skin like some wild growth.

But there was something about the way you spoke about it, the way you smiled so proudly at him, that made him want to keep you talking..

JJ's train of thought was interrupted by the ring of his phone, which startled you, causing you to step back from him in fear at the sound.

JJ cursed under his breath upon hearing his phone ring, the sudden sound making you jump back slightly.

"Hey, it's okay," he said quietly, holding his hand up in a pacifying manner, trying to calm you down.

He took his phone from his back pocket, the screen flashing with the name of his friend Sarah, most likely wondering where he was.

"It's just a friend calling," he assured you, trying to keep his voice even to not alarm you again.

He answered the phone, keeping his gaze fixed on you, half expecting you to bolt at any second. But you stayed, although you looked more nervous now, your eyes shifting between him and the entrance to the cave.

JJ remembered why he was out here in the first place when he answered Sarah's call. His friends were most likely waiting for him, still walking around the beach mindlessly, looking for boat remnants or anything that had to do with his encounter yesterday out in the water.

Sarah's voice came through the phone, questioning JJ's whereabouts. He explained briefly where he was, not going into the details about the strange girl he had just found.

"I found something, " he simply said, leaving it at that. He caught a hint of surprise in Sarah's voice but she was used to the oddities of their life on the Outer Banks.

"Something or someone?" Sarah inquired, curiosity lacing her words.

JJ grimaced, shifting his weight nervously as he kept an eye on you, who was now poking at a nearby rock on the ground.

"Both, sort of" he admitted finally, running a hand through his messy blond hair. His eyes darted back to you, trying to gauge your reaction, but you seemed oddly fascinated by the rock, oblivious to their conversation.

Sarah chuckled softly through the phone. "Care to elaborate?" she asked, clearly amused by the cryptic response.

"I'll be out in a few, wait for me.." he whispered, stealing a glance at you once again. You seemed harmless, almost innocent in your fascination with the rock, but he knew appearances could be deceiving. He moved a little farther away from you, maintaining some distance as he spoke with Sarah.

Sarah sighed, her voice laced with a hint of concern now. "Alright, I'll let the others know." She paused for a moment. "Be careful, JJ. I don't know what you found, but this feels.. different."

JJ scoffed lightly at her worry, but he knew she had a point. "It's the Outer Banks, everything is different here" he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of annoyance and anticipation.

Sarah chuckled. "Yeah, but this feels weirder than usual" she commented, her voice echoing his previous thoughts. She knew him too well.

JJ grumbled softly, looking over his shoulder at you. You were now crouching next to the rock, your focus entirely on it.

"I'll explain when we meet up" he said, his attention divided between the phone call and keeping an eye on you. He was itching with questions himself, but had to put them aside for the moment.

Sarah sighed on the other end of the line. "Okay, hurry up," she said, her tone filled with a mix of impatience and curiosity. There was a beep as she ended the call, leaving JJ to his thoughts.

He pocketed his phone, his eyes flickering back to you. You were now running your fingers along some symbols carved into the rock, your motions slow and almost reverent. He sighed walking closer to you, studying you intently. "We have to uh, go.." he mumbled, wondering if you even wanted to leave the cave in the first place.

As JJ approached you, you looked up at him, your expression one of curiosity again. You had been completely caught up in exploring the symbols on the rock, your fingers tracing them with an almost careful and gentle touch.

When he mentioned leaving, you stopped, tilting your head slightly to the side, as if considering his words. For a moment it seemed as though you were contemplating his statement, a thoughtful expression on your face. But eventually, you nodded, showing that you were willing to leave the cave with him.

JJ was surprised by your willingness to leave. "Oh.. Good." he said, a hint of relief in his voice. He had expected resistance from you, maybe even a tantrum for wanting to take you away from the cave. But no, here you were nodding your head in agreement just like that. He watched, still mesmerized by your strange behavior.

"Alright, let's go then." he added, extending his hand to you, hoping you'd take it without any protest.

You looked at his hand, standing up straight, before pointing down at the small rock you were inspecting. It was as if you were asking JJ if you could take it. You crouched down and took it in your hands, extending it to him questioningly before placing your hand in his and stepping closer.

He looked at the rock you were holding, it was rather small and looked ordinary. But your fixation on it didn't go unnoticed, there was something about it that you found significant. JJ studied you for a few seconds before saying.

"Yeah, sure, we can take it if you want..." he said, giving you a little nod, trying to understand your strange behavior. He was still processing all of this. He watched as you placed your hand in his, now holding your small palm in his larger one.

He led you out of the cave, his grip on your hand firm but gentle at the same time. The walk on the beach was quiet, your eyes darting around you curiously, and then watching the waves crashing against the sandy shores with some sort of longing if JJ wasn't wrong..

They walked in silence for a while, your hand still tucked safely in his. JJ couldn't help but steal quick glances at you, his curiosity only growing with each passing minute. Your odd fascination with the cave, your strange behavior and the fact you were naked under his hoodie.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a sea gull above them, causing you to look up at the bird with a small amount of interest, and a small smile tugging at your lips. JJ's grip on your hand tightened as they walked. He was hyperaware of the fact that you weren't wearing anything underneath that hoodie. He still couldn't understand how you managed to be so calm, being almost fully bare in front of a stranger. He tried to shake the thought from his mind, focusing on the path ahead.

As they continued walking, they could hear the distant sound of voices and the rustling of their friends as they approached. Soon enough, JJ's best friends came into view, sitting on the beach and discussing something urgently looking up when they heard JJ and you approaching.

Sarah and Kiara looked at you in surprise, their eyes wide with shock. Pope and John B exchanged confused glances before looking at JJ for some kind of explanation. To say they all were confused was an understatement.

JJ assumed that he had the same expression as his best friends on his face when he found you unconscious in the cave, covered in seaweed and kelp. Which amused him for a split second before he realized the gravity of the situation. Wait until they saw the corals and creatures growing from your skin..

A/N: Finally posted this request! this is actually such an interesting story to write but the plot has me a bit stunned at the moment because i don't know where to take it. Asks, reblogs and comments would be appreciated since i wanna know if you want part two to this story also!

Tag-list*:･ﾟ✧ @cali-888, @bee-43, @jjscoquette, @melsbels-zip, @stanseventeen @wh0reforbucknasty @wtfisastiles @annaconscience @pqndxra @carrerascameron @nini2mem @iynsane @gublerstylesobrien1238 @wrldfilms

[moeitsu]

The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 7 - Bound Beneath a Sirens Song Summary: With a storm looming on the horizon, the air crackles with an undeniable energy—every moment, every touch is charged like lightning waiting to strike. When Arthur invites you to take a swim, how could you possibly refuse? After all, it’s just a swim... what harm could come from that? wc: 11k tw: none! Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

AN: Longer chapter, got a little carried away. But reader finally gets to kissy on her fishy :3 (also like 80% of this takes place underwater, so pls don’t read too much into the logic of it)

tag list: @photo1030 @v3lv3tf0x @ireallyhonestlydontcare @shygamergirl01 @cloudywithachanceofcrisis @sevikaspuertoricanwife @abducted-cowz @ilovethatforyousworld @gatodebiquini @onyxlune @bomdada

I was searching for trouble and I knew it

The pull toward him was undeniable, like the tide dragging me into deeper waters, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight it. There were a thousand reasons why I should pack up my things and head home, but none of them were strong enough to make me leave. Every day, his voice echoed in the back of my mind, a secret siren song ringing in my ears, impossible to ignore.

I told myself this was an adventure—something new, something extraordinary. When in my life would I ever experience something like this again? But deep down, I knew it was more than that. He wasn’t just some fascinating creature to be studied, he was a person. A complicated, intriguing, wonderful person who had been through hell and somehow still found the strength to trust. Over the past week, I had watched him transform before my eyes, shedding his fear and anger like an old skin. Seeing that change unfold lit something warm and dangerous in my chest.

I knew I was going down with this ship, but I refused to raise the white flag in surrender. 

Not when he had come so far. Not when I had seen the way his shoulders relaxed when he listened to Mary-Beth ramble about her favorite books, or how he watched Tilly’s hands with quiet fascination as she scribbled down notes and hypotheses, pausing only to tap her pen against her lip in thought. He was still wary of the men, his trust slower to form, but he was trying. And that effort—it meant everything.

Tilly pestered him with inquisitive, practical questions, always seeking to unravel the mysteries of his existence. She wanted to know what he remembered about his mother, about his people, about the depths of the ocean he had never been free to explore. She wanted to see his lights up close, to hear the cadence of his native tongue, to piece together the puzzle of his biology with a scientific curiosity. At first, Arthur was hesitant, his answers clipped, wary. But I was always there with them, and at times, it felt like he looked to me for permission. A gentle smile, a small nod, and his face would soften just slightly, his bioluminescence flickering to life.

It was as if I was telling him, Go ahead. You’re safe to be yourself here.

Mary-Beth, on the other hand, was smitten with his personality. She had a habit of chatting his ear off, switching from one topic to another with the ease of someone who never ran out of things to say. She talked about her love for writing, about her life back at college, and the not-so-secret crush she had on a certain fisherman at the facility. And Arthur—he listened. Really listened. He hung onto every word, his curiosity evident in the way he tilted his head, the way he asked his own questions. It was clear that as much as we were fascinated by him, he was just as eager to understand us.

And for the first time in his life, he was free to learn without the shadow of pain and fear looming over him.

It was the end of the week. The summer sun was sinking low in the sky, bathing the outdoor section of Arthur’s tank in molten gold. The facility had closed to the public not too long ago, and the girls would need to head home soon. The warm eastern wind carried the briny scent of the ocean, filling my lungs with something grounding, something familiar.

I, for one, did not plan on leaving with them.

There was a part of me that longed to dive into the unknown. To explore someone who, in ways I couldn’t yet explain, felt just a little bit like me. Every day, the pull had grown stronger, the ache sharper. I wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or something more—but tonight, I could no longer ignore it.

Mary-Beth was carefully braiding a section of Arthur’s sandy blond hair, her fingers moving with practiced ease as she wove small strands together. Arthur sat comfortably with his elbows resting on the platform, arms crossed as his long tail floated lazily in the water, the gentle sway of it almost hypnotic. Tilly, stretching her legs with a sigh, checked the time before nudging Mary-Beth.

“We better get moving. My mom doesn’t like when I’m late for dinner.”

Mary-Beth groaned dramatically, her lips forming an exaggerated pout. “Oh, come on, Tilly. It’s Friday! We’re young adults—we should be spending our weekends staying out late, having fun! Can’t we stay with Arthur a little longer?”

“Ouch, guess I’m just chopped liver,” I muttered with a laugh, shaking my head. Though, in truth, I didn’t really mind that they preferred Arthur’s company. Because it meant I got to spend time with him too.

Arthur chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest as he gave them a reassuring smile. “It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere,” he said, amusement dancing in his glowing blue eyes. “We can pick up where we left off when you girls come back. Go home, get some rest—study up on those science books so you can teach this old fool some new tricks.” He added a playful wink, making Mary-Beth giggle as she gathered her things.

I stood as they did, walking them to the door, dragging my feet ever so slightly. The anticipation in my chest was a restless thing.

And then, finally—the door shut behind them with a heavy thud. Their footsteps echoed down the hallway, growing softer until they disappeared completely.

And just like that, it was just us.

Arthur and I.

This was what I had been waiting for all week—just a moment alone with him, without the others, without distraction. But now that it was here, now that the opportunity had fallen right into my lap, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with myself.

I wanted to talk to him, to ask him questions, to know him in ways no one else had. But I had already spent every day listening to his stories, absorbing the pieces of himself he was willing to share with the others. And yet, there were still so many things I desired to know. More personal, more intimate details about his life that I had no business prying into.

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I barely registered the way Arthur tilted his head at me, eyes searching mine.

“You alright, darlin’?”

The smooth timbre of his voice pulled me back to the present, washing over me like the tide pulling in.

I blinked, offering a small smile. “Yeah, I was just thinking.” I hesitated for half a second before adding, “Mind if I hang out for a bit?”

His eyes lit up, and it wasn’t just the setting sun catching in the water.

“Sure,” he said, shifting slightly as he regarded me. “This ain’t gonna get you in trouble, though, right?”

He had a point. There was no reason for me to stay after hours. But surely, I wasn’t breaking any rules. Not really.

I smirked. “Only if I get caught.”

Arthur huffed out a laugh, the sound warm and familiar, as if we had known each other for years instead of days. I realized just how much I needed to know him. Not as some scientific marvel, not as a myth brought to life.

But as Arthur.

As I moved toward the edge of the ledge, letting my legs dangle in the water, Arthur followed without hesitation. It was as if we were tethered by some invisible thread, an unspoken pull drawing us together. He stopped just before reaching me, lingering in that space between caution and longing, his hesitation palpable. I could see the gears turning in his mind—how close is too close?

I reached out, offering my hand in a silent invitation. And when he took it, I felt the warmth of his palm against mine despite the coolness of the water. He pressed himself against my legs, his chest firm and solid, his heartbeat strong beneath my skin. Wet arms came to rest on my thighs, soaking through my shorts, but I barely noticed. The moment was too charged, too fragile, as his gills fluttered against my legs, I parted them slightly as if breathing him into my embrace.

He was so close now. Close enough that I could study every detail of his face—the faint scar hidden beneath his short beard, the dimple at the base of his nose, the way his lashes curled like delicate brushstrokes. Freckles dusted his cheeks and shoulders like constellations etched into his skin, mapping stories I would never fully know. His second eyelids, faint but visible, reflected the soft light filtering through the water, a feature evolved to protect his irises, and yet, he still looked at me with such openness. His lips were smooth, and when he parted them, I caught the glint of sharp teeth, a stark contrast to the tenderness in his gaze.

Content had settled over his handsome rugged features. 

“Arthur.” His name slipped from my lips, quiet but sincere. And before I could stop myself, the question that had been lodged in my heart finally surfaced. “Are you happy here?”

I felt him tense, his body stilling against mine. He took a slow, measured breath, but there was no avoidance in his gaze, no flicker of hesitation. Only the truth.

“Happy is... a foreign word to me,” he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of a lifetime of uncertainty. “I like it here, but it’s not exactly what I’d call… home.”

The word sounded strange coming from him, like he was tasting it for the first time, unsure of its meaning. My chest ached.

“It’s a bit lonely when you’re all workin’,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Quiet. But it’s a nice feelin’, like I can just be.” He shrugged, as if that small solace was enough, as if it didn’t matter.

A sigh escaped my throat before I could swallow it. “I’m sorry, Arthur, I wish there—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, sweetheart. You’ve given me more freedom than I’ve ever tasted in my whole miserable life.”

I smiled at that, but it was a poor attempt to mask the tightness in my chest. I wanted to do more for him. I wanted to erase every wound, every scar of his past. Show him true happiness, not just some artificial slice of freedom. 

“Besides,” a slow, knowing grin tugged at his lips, revealing more of those sharp teeth. “If you had never brought me here, I never would’ve met you.”

His hand—webbed, calloused, yet impossibly gentle—lifted to my face, his fingertips tracing the curve of my cheek with aching reverence. Like he was afraid I might dissolve beneath his touch, fade into the air like seafoam.

“And I’m happy when I’m with you.”

The words settled between us, sinking into my bones, heavy and undeniable. I should have said something back. Should have acknowledged what was happening between us.

But I couldn’t. Because if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to pull myself away.

Arthur held my gaze for what felt like an eternity, a storm of emotions swirling between us like the eye of a cyclone—hot and cold currents colliding, the pressure building, pulling us into a dance neither of us dared to break free from. It was unspoken, this tether between us, but I felt it with every pounding heartbeat, with every inch that closed between our bodies.

“Would you swim with me, my girl?”

My breath caught. The words barely registered, not because I hadn’t heard them, but because of the way he said them.

My girl.

It rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, like it was already a truth neither of us had acknowledged yet. My stomach twisted, and a rush of warmth bloomed across my cheeks under the golden light of the setting sun. Arthur watched me, eyes shimmering with mischief, but there was something else there too—something deeper, something that sent a shiver down my spine.

“S-swim?” I squeaked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Arthur chuckled, the sound low and rich, like I had just recoiled from something ridiculous—like he had asked me to eat a raw sea urchin instead of simply taking a swim. “Yeah. If you can ignore the sharks and stingrays, it’s practically paradise,” he teased, tugging at my hands as if I might just leap in fully clothed without a second thought.

The meaning of his request finally sank in. My pulse kicked up a notch. This wasn’t what I had planned when I stayed behind with him, wasn’t how I thought I’d fill my time. I had imagined more talking, maybe more of those easy laughs he shared with the girls. But this—this was something different. Something thrilling.

I’d be in the water with him. In his natural element.

A voice in the back of my head stirred, whispering a reminder of what Lenny had said about siren courtship. His bioluminescence, the purring, the gift-giving—he’s in mating season.

I shot those thoughts straight to hell.

This wasn’t about that. This was just swimming. Nothing more. Nothing dangerous. What harm could be done?

Right? Right. 

A grin broke across my face, excitement bubbling in my chest as I practically sprang to my feet.

“I’ll go change into my wetsuit.”

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

I bounded down the corridor, my heartbeat matching the quick, eager rhythm of my steps. Excitement thrummed in my veins, bubbling up inside me until it felt like I might burst. This is happening. I could barely contain myself, giddy at the thought of what was to come. To see Arthur as he was meant to be—in the water, in his element. To watch the way the water broke for him, how effortlessly he moved, commanding the space with just the flick of his powerful tail. The thought sent shivers down my spine, a thrill unlike anything I had ever known.

I was so lost in the fantasy that I didn’t notice the electrical closet door swinging open until I nearly barreled straight into a solid chest.

“Woah!”

Hands gripped my shoulders to steady me, and I blinked up to find John staring down at me, brows raised in surprise. “Hey, uhm—didn’t realize you were still here…you going for a swim or something?” His gaze flickered down to my wetsuit, to the towel in my hands, then toward the hallway that led to Arthur’s tank. His expression shifted, concern knitting his features. “Shit, is Arthur alright? Did something happen?”

I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. Just like John to assume the worst. He always played it cool, pretended not to give a shit, but deep down, I knew better. The fool had a heart bigger than his ego—not that he’d ever admit it.

“Arthur’s fine,” I assured him quickly. “I’m just… going for a little swim. That’s all.”

John’s eyebrows shot up, but before he could grill me on why exactly I was voluntarily diving into the water with a half-siren, I cut in.

“What are you still doing here, anyway? You hate working late on Fridays.”

He sighed, exhaustion lacing his tone as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hosea asked me to check on the generators. Since we got that big storm coming this weekend.”

Right. The hurricane. I had been so wrapped up in Arthur, in my own tangled emotions, that I had almost forgotten.

“Oh, right. Hurricane Eliza.” I rocked back on my heels, clutching the towel to my chest, suddenly feeling exposed. “I heard she’s gonna be a real beast.” I tried not to sound uninterested, but all I really wanted to do was turn back to Arthur. 

John hummed in agreement, but his eyes lingered on me a beat too long, as if he could see straight through my flimsy attempt at nonchalance.

A quiet laugh rumbled from his chest. “Yeah, uh—I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

He turned, heading back down the hallway, but not before shooting me that look. The one that said he wasn’t buying it.

“John! Uh…” I swallowed hard, nerves creeping back up my spine. Why did I feel like I was a child getting away with something? “Please keep this between us. I-I’m just—” I fumbled for the right words. Just what? Just going for a swim? Then why did it feel like I had been caught sneaking off to do something much more nefarious?

John smirked, dragging a finger across his lips like he was sealing them shut. “Your secret’s safe with me. Have fun with your shark boyfriend.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “He’s not—”

John was already strolling away, ignoring my rebuttal. “If he tries anything, I’ll gut his ass personally,” he called over his shoulder, his voice echoing down the corridor. 

I laughed, shaking my head. “Think I’ll take my chances, Marston. Seeing as you still can’t swim!”

Without turning around, he raised a middle finger in the air.

Grinning to myself, I clutched my towel a little tighter and turned toward the hallway that led to Arthur’s tank. My heart pounded for an entirely different reason now. This was finally happening.

The moment I stepped onto the platform, my heart clenched with a brief flicker of doubt. Would he still be as eager now that I was actually here? But before that worry could take root, the surface of the water broke, and Arthur emerged with effortless grace, resting his arms on the ledge like he had been waiting for me all night.

“Took you long enough,” he teased, his voice a low rumble beneath the gentle crashing of the waves beyond the facility. “Was startin’ to worry you changed your mind.”

I grinned, shaking my head as I tossed my towel onto a plastic chair. “Like I’d pass up this opportunity,” I mused, reaching for my flippers. “Spoke too soon about getting caught. Ran into John in the hallway.”

Arthur hummed in acknowledgment, but his attention was already elsewhere. I followed his gaze down to my feet, watching the way his expression softened with curiosity. Slowly, he reached out, his webbed fingers glistening under the golden light as they ghosted over my ankle.

I stilled as he lifted my foot slightly, his thumb brushing over the sharp ridge of ankle bone before gliding downward in a slow, deliberate motion. When the back of his claw traced up the arch of my foot, I couldn't help the quiet giggle that escaped me, my toes curling instinctively.

Arthur's eyes flicked up at the sound, his lips twitching with amusement before he focused back on my foot, turning it this way and that as if studying an artifact he couldn’t quite make sense of.

“Why do you wear these?” he asked, finally shifting his attention to the flipper I had yet to put on. He tapped the stiff rubber with his claw, brows furrowing.

I chuckled, slipping the other one on. “They’re flippers. I can’t swim like you do. My feet aren’t smooth or streamlined, and I don’t have the muscles like you.”

Arthur’s lips parted slightly as he mouthed the word to himself. “Flippers,” he repeated, testing the sound on his tongue before looking back at me. “So these make you more like me?”

His question sent a strange warmth through my chest. There was something so earnest in the way he asked, his fingers trailing along the length of the fin as if he were trying to understand what it meant for me to move through his world.

“Essentially, yes,” I murmured, a small smile playing at my lips. “They’ll help me keep up with you.”

Arthur let out an exaggerated snort, giving me a pointed look. “Darlin’, that’s a bold statement.”

Grinning, I kicked my foot out of the water, sending a spray into the air. He flinched slightly, watching the droplets rain down before glaring at the stiff black rubber with playful disdain.

“That’s just insulting.”

I laughed, adjusting the strap on my other flipper before sliding a pair of goggles over my forehead. Arthur cocked a brow, tilting his head as he eyed them.

“Ain’t even gonna ask,” he huffed, but then his tone shifted, growing more serious. “How long can you hold your breath?”

The change in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. The playful banter faded, replaced by something quieter—something deeper.

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the edge of the platform. How long could I hold my breath? I was about to dive into his world, a place where he was strong, fast, in control. The thought sent my pulse skittering, but I forced a steady breath, meeting his gaze head-on.

“Less than a minute,” I admitted, though I knew it was probably closer to thirty seconds.

Arthur took in the information with a slow nod, his ocean-blue gaze flickering downward to the depths of the tank. The water reflected against his skin in shifting ribbons of light, making him look even more otherworldly. “Just stay close to me, alright?”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

Pulling my goggles over my eyes and nose, I inhaled deeply, letting my lungs expand before slipping off the ledge. The cool water embraced me instantly, a rush of sensation flooding my senses as the world above blurred into nothingness.

And then, through the clearing bubbles, there he was.

Arthur moved—no, glided—with an effortless grace that no human could ever hope to match. The full arc of his powerful tail cut through the water like a blade, propelling him forward with a strength that sent ripples cascading outward. The bioluminescent blues and purples that traced his scales shimmered like stardust, catching the fractured light that filtered down from above. His tail fin, a broad, elegant half-moon, unfurled behind him with each movement, undulating like the slow, hypnotic pulse of a jellyfish. The way it rippled through the currents, fluid and weightless, was mesmerizing—a dance like the ocean itself was draped in silk.

For the first time, I was seeing him as he was meant to be. Free. Powerful. Impossible. A gateway into a world unknown. He belonged to nobody, and no man. 

His sandy blond hair drifted around his face in feathery strands, framing the rugged lines of his features, softening the sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones. His gills flexed slightly, expelling a faint trail of bubbles as he moved, blending into the swirling currents. And then there was his smile—devastating, knowing, teasing. It was the kind of smile that made the world tilt, that made my stomach tighten with something warm.

He belonged here, in the water, in the vastness. And yet, as his ocean-blue eyes met mine, glowing faintly beneath the surface, I couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, in this moment—he belonged with me, too.

Arthur reached for me, and without hesitation, I took his hand.

Webbed fingers curled around mine, warm even in the cold water, and with the smallest tug, he guided me deeper. The tank transformed before my eyes—the artificial world of rock formations and coral structures now seemed vast and infinite from this new perspective. Schools of fish darted past us in flashes of silver, weaving effortlessly through the currents.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Arthur twisted effortlessly, rolling onto his back so he could watch me, his tail propelling him smoothly as I floated just above him. Watching me with that same toothy, teasing grin. 

I kicked my feet, feeling the resistance of the water as my flippers sliced through it, but it was nothing compared to the sheer power he held in every movement. His tail moved in slow, deliberate strokes, adjusting his speed with fluent precision, allowing me to drift above.

I suddenly wished I had a tail like his—to feel the strength coiling in my muscles, to move through the water with that same primal ease. To command the currents as if they were an extension of myself. But I was clumsy in comparison, merely paddling while he swam with the mastery of something born from the deep. And yet, he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he looked amused, watching me with a quiet adoration, like I was the marvel here—not him.

For the first time in my life, I felt truly weightless. Suspended in the water, drifting between reality and something almost dreamlike, I had never felt so free. Despite the vastness around us, Arthur was the only thing keeping me tethered.

Then my chest tightened. A sharp, familiar burn spread through my lungs. Shit. Has it been a minute already?

With my free hand, I pointed to the surface, signaling to Arthur that I needed air. But instead of guiding me upward, he pulled us deeper. My stomach dropped. A chill slithered down my spine as his grip on my hand remained firm. What is he doing?

I tugged, trying to free myself, but his hold only tightened. Panic began to set in, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. No… No, no, no! My limbs burned, my body screaming for oxygen. The water suddenly felt too thick, too heavy. It was crushing me, swallowing me whole. 

He shook his head.

A bolt of horror shot through me. No? What the fuck do you mean, NO?!

Was this some kind of sick game? Had I been a fool to trust him? My mind raced with a thousand possibilities, each one darker than the last. What if I had just made a terrible mistake? What if everything we shared had been a lie? What if Arthur wasn’t what I thought he was?

Was he going to kill me? Am I going to drown? 

Just as the last ounce of my strength gave way, just as I thought I was about to give in to the burning need to draw breath and fill my lungs with water, Arthur pulled me against his chest. I expected him to kick his tail sending us upward, to break the surface in a powerful burst. He had asked how long I could hold my breath, surely that wasn't to plan my demise in a timely fashion.  

But instead, he did something I never could have anticipated.

His hands came up to cradle my face, his touch gentle even as I writhed against him. His bioluminescent veins pulsed with soft light, a delicate glow between us. His eyes, deep and steady, locked onto mine, silently urging me to trust him. But my mind was blind with panic, lungs burning as they gave out. 

Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine.

A kiss? Now? My mind screamed at me to pull away, to fight, to swim for the surface before it was too late. I felt it crawling under my skin, a desperate need for air or I was going to die!

I gasped but instead of choking, instead of water rushing into my lungs—

I breathed.

A rush of oxygen filled my chest, sharp and startling, like drawing the first breath of life. Arthur's lips parted against mine, his tongue slipping past in a way that was less about hunger and more about necessity. He was giving me his breath, sharing something vital and instinctual, something so intimate it sent a shiver down my spine and ignited each of my nerves in white hot fire.

I inhaled, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I clung to him, taking in the air he offered me in desperate, greedy gulps. My lungs burned, but not from lack of oxygen—it was the lingering ache of panic, the rawness of fear ebbing away, replaced by something deeper. Something calming. 

Relief. Arthur never meant to let me drown. He was never going to harm me. I silently cursed myself for not trusting him. But this was something I never would have expected. 

The rhythm came naturally after a few moments. A slow, controlled exchange. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Arthur matched me, his chest expanding against mine, his gills flaring as he cycled the air between us. Drawing in enough breath for both our lungs. Somewhere in my frantic attempt to survive, my goggles had been pulled off, floating aimlessly somewhere behind me. 

Now, nothing separated us. No barrier, no confusion. Just the warmth of his lips and the steady strength of his body as he held me in place. His breath kissing every pore. 

My arms wound around his neck instinctively, fingers tangling in his billowing hair. I could feel the powerful ripple of his muscles as he kept us suspended in the water, his tail moving in slow, effortless sweeps. His veins pulsed softly beneath his skin, casting an ethereal glow between us. It was mesmerizing, hypnotic even. 

I consumed him like a fire that devours, drawing him in deeper. Seizing his lifeforce. Claiming it as my own. Taking. 

The air he breathed into me was unlike anything I had ever tasted. It was liberating, pure—like petrichor. When the earth is warm with rain-soaked soil after a summer storm. Rich and electric and unmistakably him. It filled every aching part of me, chased away the fear, replaced it with something that left me dizzy.

This wasn’t just survival. This was something else entirely.

Arthur wasn’t just giving me air—he was threading himself into the very fabric of my being.

With every inhale, he poured into me like the tide rushing into a hollowed-out cave, filling the spaces I didn’t even realize were empty. A piece of him—vast, ancient, and arcane—flooded through my heart, echoing through its chambers, coursing through my veins in a heady, intoxicating rush. It curled into the hollows of my lungs, wove through the sinew of my muscles, and settled deep into my skin. Clinging to me like the saltwater after it dries.

It wasn’t just breath. It was him.

He invaded me, not with force, but with something far more meaningful—an offering, a communion. A sacrifice. Reaching inside me his presence wrapped around my very cells, touching every inch of me in ways I had never imagined. It was like swallowing starlight, like sinking into the depths of the ocean and becoming part of it, losing myself to something endless and infinite.

I felt the ocean’s pulse, a steady rhythm thrumming through me. It was life, boundless and eternal. And gods above, it was mighty.

With each exhale, he didn’t pull away—he gave as much as I would take. As much as I needed to calm my thundering pulse. Traces of him held me, saturating my body with something more than air. He left himself in the marrow of my bones, in the pulse of my wrists, in the spaces between each heartbeat.

I was no longer just breathing. I was becoming. 

Somewhere in the tangled mess of our situation, I hadn’t noticed Arthur bringing me back to the surface. When we finally broke through, the rush of cool ocean air kissed my cheeks, sending a shudder through me. I felt like I had just stolen something forbidden, something ancient—like I had partaken in a divine secret that was never meant for human hands. As if I had slipped past the gods unnoticed, grasping at eternity, daring to hold onto something beyond biology, beyond comprehension.

And still, despite the overwhelming weight of what had just happened between us, my instincts took over. I gasped for breath, gulping down fresh air, grounding myself in reality—even as I mourned the loss of that impossible intimacy. I pushed myself back onto the platform, slumping onto my back with a heavy huff, my limbs trembling from the lingering adrenaline. I barely registered Arthur rising beside me, his own chest rising and falling in deep, measured breaths.

Poor thing. I really did steal the breath from his lungs. Literally.

The thought sent a dizzy rush through me. Had I gotten too carried away? Had I taken too much? I wasn’t even sure what too much meant in this situation. My mind reeled as I tried to make sense of it, to unravel the impossibility of what we had just shared.

“Holy shit,” I exhaled, still trying to steady my racing heart. “Arthur, why didn’t you tell me you could do that? I thought you were trying to drown me!”

I pushed up onto my elbows, my gaze locking onto his face as he hovered in the water between my legs. He looked just as disoriented as I felt, the glow in his veins pulsing slow and steady, like the aftershocks of something neither of us could fully comprehend. He blinked up at me, his gills fluttering slightly as if he was still catching his breath, too.

“M’sorry,” he murmured, his voice softer now, more careful. “I asked how long you could hold your breath… I—I thought you knew what I was doin’. I never meant to scare ya, sweetheart.”

His eyes held nothing but sincerity, and yet I still couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” The words came out sharper than I intended, my emotions still tangled up in the lingering panic.

Arthur flinched—not physically, but I saw the way something in him pulled back, just slightly. The guilt in his expression sent a pang of regret through my chest. He truly hadn’t meant to frighten me.

“I thought humans did it all the time,” he admitted, scratching at the back of his head. “I’ve seen ‘em press their mouths together, sharin’ breath. Never really understood why, though… Since you’ve got plenty of it up here.” He waved a webbed hand through the air as if the concept itself was baffling to him.

This caught my attention. I stared at him, dumbfounded, my heart giving an odd little stutter. Oh, Arthur. I sat up fully now, moving closer to the edge as his words sank in. He’d seen humans do it before? It took a moment for it to click, for realization to dawn over me like the slow crest of a wave. Oh. He’d seen humans kiss.

“Oh, honey, that’s not—” I hesitated, rubbing my temples with a sigh. How the hell do I even explain this to him? “It’s not the same when humans do it,” I tried again, my voice softer now. “We’re not actually sharing breath. Not like that… not like what we just did.”

Arthur tilted his head, his brows knitting together in confusion. He was trying to understand, I could see that much, but I was probably upending his entire perception of human behavior in real-time.

“Then… why do you do it?”

I let out a slow breath, trying to piece it together in a way that made sense. “It’s called kissing. It’s a way humans express affection. Like a silent conversation… a way to say things without words—like ‘I care about you,’ or ‘I want to be close to you.’” My fingers curled against the damp fabric of my wetsuit. “When two people press their mouths together, they’re sharing a connection, and sometimes…” My voice faltered, realization creeping up on me as the words formed on my tongue. Gods above. It hit me that we had just done practically the same thing. “...sometimes even a little piece of their soul.”

Arthur was completely still. His eyes, dark and fathomless, locked onto mine like the pull of the tide, widening ever so slightly as his pupils expanded. A shiver ran through me, the weight of his gaze so intense it felt like he could see straight into my core.

Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, he moved closer.

The water rippled gently around his body, his movements slow, deliberate. He mirrored the way we had sat together earlier, but this time, he braced his hands on either side of me, his arms caging me in a way that sent a deep warmth curling in my stomach. The space between us was nonexistent, the air suddenly thick, charged with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Kissing…” Arthur repeated the word, barely more than a murmur, tasting it on his tongue.

I could almost see the gears turning in his mind, the way he was processing everything I’d just said. And I knew, with startling certainty, that he was thinking the same thing I was.

What we shared underwater… was far deeper, far more intimate than any human kiss could ever be.

“Yes, kissing.” My voice came out softer than I intended, and I swallowed against the sudden tightness in my throat. Fuck, why did I feel so nervous? He was so close I could taste the salt on his breath, feel the warmth radiating from his skin despite the cool water between us. Those deep, knowing eyes never left mine, watching me like he could read every thought flickering through my mind.

“Th-there’s many different ways to kiss,” I went on, my voice betraying my nerves. Why the hell am I even telling him this? “It’s not always on the lips. You can kiss pretty much anywhere on the body.”

His pupils dilated slightly, the dark pools nearly eclipsing the striking blue of his irises. “Anywhere?” His voice had dropped an octave, rougher, like sea water pulling back before a crashing wave.

I nodded, feeling heat creep up my neck. “And it’s not always between partners. Parents kiss their children, relatives kiss their loved ones, some people kiss their pets.” My fingers fidgeted, he was so close now I could feel the smoothness of his chest as he drew breath. “You can even blow a kiss.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed slightly, his expression shifting from something unreadable to pure confusion. “Why would someone do that?”

A soft giggle bubbled up my throat, his curiosity catching me off guard in the best way. “People do it when they’re beyond each other's reach. A way of sending your affection through the air.”

Feeling emboldened, I reached for his hand—broad, webbed, strong but gentle beneath my touch. His skin was cool and smooth, glistening in the fading light. Slowly, I lifted his arm and guided the back of his hand toward my lips.

“When you blow someone a kiss, you have to bring it to life before letting it go,” I explained, my voice barely above a whisper. Then, without breaking eye contact, I pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the wet space of his palm, exaggerating the smacking sound just enough to tease him.

Arthur went completely still.

I felt the tension coil in his muscles, the way his fingers twitched slightly against my own. When I pulled away, my eyes flickered to his face—and oh. His cheeks were tinted a deeper shade of pink, a faint but undeniable flush creeping along his cheekbones. Was he… blushing?

I bit my lip, suppressing a grin as warmth curled in my chest. I had just made him blush.

Arthur blinked, looking between his hand and my face like he was trying to make sense of what had just happened, like he was trying to feel something beyond the physical sensation lingering on his skin.

“There,” I said proudly, admiring my work as if I had just painted something delicate and unseen across his palm. “Now, you blow it away.”

I gently turned his hand toward the ocean, the sky now fading to a deepening indigo as the sun traded shifts with the moon. The first stars flickered to life above us, their distant glow reflecting in the water, shimmering against Arthur’s iridescent skin. Then, slowly, I blew on his palm, a soft breath carrying the invisible gift away.

Arthur inhaled sharply. His gills flared at the gesture, pulsing with some unspoken emotion.

I released his hand, but instead of pulling away, he brought it to my face. A breath hitched in my throat as the rough pad of his thumb traced over my bottom lip, dragging slowly, reverently. The touch was featherlight, but I felt it everywhere.

His fingers trembled slightly. His eyes burned with something deeper than curiosity now—an insatiable hunger, a deep, aching longing.

I heard him swallow before he spoke, his voice barely rising above the whisper of the roaring waves, rich and weighted, like he was holding himself back. “…and where does the kiss go?”

The words rolled over me, sweeping me into the depth of his need. Arthur’s gaze searched mine, pupils blown wide, his entire body coiled with restrained tension. We were already so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath, hear the tremble in his voice.

“To someone you love.”

It mattered little to me which one of us closed the distance—only that we did. The moment our lips met, the world fell away, as if time itself had paused to bear witness. The moon, ever watchful, seemed to still the tides, holding her breath in quiet admiration, offering her silent blessing.

Arthur kissed me with an aching slowness, as if savoring something precious, something fragile. His lips were warm, firm but yielding, and impossibly gentle. Nothing like before—when he was breathing life into me. No, this was different. This was the slow unraveling of restraint, the surrender to something we had long denied. The intertwining of unspoken desire, of aching need.

The ship was sinking. And I finally raised the white flag.

A shiver ran through me as I brushed my tongue against the fullness of his bottom lip, teasing, testing. He groaned—a deep, guttural sound that sent heat pooling low in my belly—and parted his lips for me.

The first stroke of his tongue against mine was devastating, deliberate, and utterly alien. Silken and warm, but textured—each ridge on the top of it dragged against my own, sending sharp, electric pulses straight down my spine. It was longer than I expected, sinuous and impossibly agile, exploring me with a slow, unrelenting hunger. I gasped into his mouth as he curled it against the roof of mine, the friction sending a deep, aching thrill through my body.

He tasted of salt, like the sea breeze just before a storm, rich and heady with something darker beneath—the faint scent of musk, the wild pull of him. My fingers reached up around his neck, one hand cradling his jaw. Desperate to keep myself tethered as I drowned in the sensation of him, the way he felt—all sharp edges and smooth restraint, barely contained.

Arthur kissed like he knew what his touch did to me, like he had been waiting to unravel me, to steal the breath from my lungs and make it his own. 

And I let him. I let him take me.

The soft bristle of his beard scraped against my skin, leaving a tingling warmth in its wake, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His fingers skimmed my waist, pressing just enough to anchor me, as if afraid I might slip away. 

All I could taste was him. All I could breathe was him. Arthur, steady and unshakable, yet trembling with want. The only thing that mattered in this moment was us.

I didn’t need to open my eyes to see the glow of his bioluminescence. Its colorful shimmer lit up the space between us, painting the darkness behind my eyelids in swirls of deep indigo, flickering like a living halo. 

The heat of his body pressed against mine, damp and feverish, as he surged forward, rising from the water.

The platform was firm beneath me as he eased me down, his weight settling just enough to trap me beneath him. Then, suddenly, I felt it—before I even heard it. A low, resonant purr, vibrating deep in his chest and pouring into mine, rattling through my ribs like the hum of something ancient, something meant to lure and ensnare.

And like the vibration of his purr I could feel the need exuding off him in waves.

His lips crashed against mine, no longer gentle but desperate, fevered. His tongue, ribbed and serpentine, curled around mine, stroking, caressing, dragging across every sensitive nerve like he wanted to learn me by touch alone. The sensation sent a sharp pulse of need straight to my core. I moaned into his mouth, but he swallowed the sound, pressing closer, devouring me with each frantic kiss.

His bioluminescence pulsed in time with his heartbeat, casting a rhythm of shifting blues and purples against my skin. His fingers, slick with seawater, traced up my sides, leaving a cool trail that burned in contrast to the heat pooling between us. I wrapped my legs around him as strong hands curled against my waist, squeezing the tender soft flesh. 

Powerful hips rutted against mine, the hard press of something unmistakable beneath his scales sent a shudder through me. Mixed with the slick proof of his arousal, the sensation was maddening. And I had no doubt he could smell my own—if not taste it.

The kiss turned messy, wet, tongues tangling in a frantic battle for dominance neither of us cared to win. My nails scraped against his shoulders, feeling the shifting muscles beneath his damp skin, and his purr deepened—a growl mixed with something more animalistic. He nipped at my bottom lip, tugging just enough to make me whimper, then soothed the sting with another slow, dragging stroke of his tongue.

I was drowning in him, in the salt, the heat, the way he tasted like the storm rolling in over the horizon. His hunger was intoxicating, and I met it with my own, chasing every kiss, every desperate movement. 

Breath became an afterthought and the only thing that mattered to me was more.

We lay together like this for what felt like eternity, our breaths mingling in the humid air, bodies still pressed close, reluctant to part. My fingers traced lazy circles over the damp skin of his back, memorizing the ridges and dips of muscle beneath the glow that pulsed gently through his veins. Every flicker of light felt like a whisper, a secret between us.

And then he pulled away. I whimpered softly at the loss, my body instinctively arching toward him, unwilling to break the connection. A shimmering string of saliva still tethered us before he reached up, swiping his thumb over my swollen lips, his touch almost possessive.

His sapphire eyes—drowning in pools of endless black—studied me like I was something holy, something to be worshiped. His pupils had expanded so wide they reflected the moonlight itself, making him look less like a man and more like something wild that had crawled out of the deep to claim me.

He leaned in, breath warm against my ear, voice a low, husky murmur. "Did I do good?"

The words alone were enough to make me tremble, but then he nipped at the shell of my ear, his sharp teeth scraping before soothing the sting with the soft press of his lips.

I could hardly form a thought, let alone a coherent answer. His mouth was relentless, lips dragging over my throat, finding sensitive spots with an infuriating precision, nipping and sucking until I was gasping, grasping at his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. My wetsuit suddenly felt suffocating, unbearable. If he didn’t stop, I would shed it and take him right here, consequences be damned. It hardly mattered if our bodies could even fit—all that mattered was the heat, the need, the way he was unraveling me with every touch.

"Good—" I managed, the word rasping from deep in my throat, thick with want. "Doesn’t even begin to describe it. There are no words, Arthur. That was—"

He whispered something against my skin. A soft murmur, thick with devotion.

It made me pause. Whatever he said wasn’t English, and it certainly wasn’t human. The sound was rough, like the shifting of stones against the ocean floor, but it carried a melodic cadence, a fluidity that sent a shiver rolling through me.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my pulse hammering as I searched his face. "What do those words mean?"

Arthur slowly eased himself off me, sliding back into the water with a grace that reminded me he was not just a man. He belonged to the sea, to something vast and untamed, yet here he was, staring at me like I was the only thing anchoring him to this moment.

I followed him to the edge, pausing as my fingers hovered above the water.

He said the words again, softer this time.

"It has a few meanings," Arthur admitted, his gaze sweeping over my face, studying me with the quiet intensity of a painter capturing his muse. His throat tightened around the words, as if it hurt to speak. "My Ma used to say it to me when I was a kid, before I was taken."

I swallowed thickly as he held my gaze, and then he spoke the translation, each word sinking into my chest like a vow, like a promise meant only for me.

"My hearts will follow you to the end. Into every horizon."

Giving me little time to react, Arthur wrapped his strong arms around my waist and pulled me back into the dark waters. The shock of it stole my breath, the sudden cool embrace of the salt water wrapping around me like silk. The only light was his pulsing glow, shifting hues of deep indigo and soft cerulean, casting shimmering patterns against my skin. Above us, the stars blinked in quiet witness, scattered across the sky like tiny echoes of his bioluminescence that flickered beneath the waves.

I looked down, my breath hitching. The water was so dark now I could barely see the tips of my toes. An endless unknown stretched beneath me, and for the first time, I felt the tendrils of fear creeping in. My pulse pounded against my ribs, instinct screaming at me to retreat, to find solid ground.

But then I remembered his words. What they meant. What they implied. There was no turning back. I was being carried on the wind, letting the current take me where I needed to go. All I had to do was trust him.

Tentatively, I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the way his body moved against mine—fluid, effortless. It was like he could sense my hesitation, my uncertainty, because before I could voice it, he pulled me closer.

"Arthur…"

His warmth was a stark contrast to the cool water, his broad chest expanding with each measured breath. I could feel the steady exhale from his gills as they brushed against my thighs, sending a strange, almost soothing sensation through me. He held me tight, one strong arm wrapped securely around my waist, keeping me anchored to him, to this moment.

"There’s something I want to show you," he murmured, his voice low and steady, the promise of something unknown lingering in his tone.

"But… I—I can’t—" My throat tightened, the weight of the ocean pressing around us, reminding me of my limits. I wasn’t like him. I couldn’t breathe down there.

Arthur didn’t even let me finish the thought.

"Hush, darlin’," he soothed, his lips grazing the shell of my ear before pressing against my temple. His voice was a whispered vow, a quiet command laced with reassurance. "Let me be your breath."

Before I could protest, he sealed his lips over mine, the kiss deep and consuming, and I felt it—his breath flowing into me, warm and intoxicating. A strange sensation, like the ocean itself had bent to his will, filling my lungs with something alive.

And just like that, the fear ebbed away.

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊ *

It took a few tries to get used to Arthur breathing into my lungs. At first, it felt unnatural, like my body was rejecting the very thing keeping me alive. My nervous heart devoured each breath like a greedy little sea snake, twisting around my chest, tightening, constricting. But Arthur was patient. He never seemed to mind.

I tried to hold it longer, to prove I could endure, but it was as if he could sense my discomfort before I even knew it myself. He never let it reach the point where panic crept in, never let my lungs burn from the inside out. The moment he sensed my struggle, his strong fingers would find my chin, tilting my face toward his. And then, with a quiet kind of reverence, he would seal his lips over mine and breathe life into me.

And, like before, he was never the first to pull away. Arthur let me take as much air as I needed, as many breaths as it took to steady the wild thunder of my pulse. There was no impatience, no frustration—only trust. A trust unlike anything I had ever known.

I was completely and utterly at his mercy.

The water was darker than I had ever seen it. A thick, endless abyss stretching in every direction, swallowing everything beyond the faint glow of the facility’s underwater lights. They cast eerie, shifting beams, just enough for monitoring water levels, but not enough to truly see what lurked in the depths.

And there was so much lurking.

Every creature we passed seemed to materialize from the void, slipping through the water like ghosts from a world I was only beginning to understand. I knew these animals, had studied them, cared for them. But here, under the shroud of darkness, they felt different. Unfamiliar. As if I were a trespasser in their domain.

A particularly curious stingray drifted above us, its broad body gliding effortlessly through the water. I looked up—and nearly choked on my own scream.

The pale, ghoulish underside of its body loomed above me, its strange, human-like mouth and vacant eyes staring down with an uncanny, haunting expression. My body acted before my mind could catch up—I jerked violently, nearly kicking Arthur square in the chest, my limbs flailing in pure, unfiltered panic.

Once again, he calmed me with his breath. His warmth spread through me, steadying the frantic rhythm of my heart, and I felt it—the quiet shake of his chest, the vibration of something light, and effortless. Laughter. It bubbled up his throat, muted by the water, but I felt it, a tingling hum against my lips before we pulled away.

His fingers found my wrist, strong yet careful, guiding my hand upward. With a slow, deliberate touch, he traced his thumb along my palm, unfurling my fingers one by one.

The stingray hovered just above us, its massive wings rippling like silk through the water. And then, with a slow, ghostly glide, it brushed its velvety skin over the tips of my fingers. Like a whisper, like a greeting.

I had touched stingrays before, plenty of times in the shallow touch-tank, where children giggled and splashed, reaching out to feel the slippery softness of their skin. But never like this. Never in their world, where the touch was theirs to give. It wasn’t me reaching out—it was them, exploring me.

He lifted his hand in front of me, and what he did next sent warmth blooming deep in my belly. With deliberate care, he hooked our index fingers together—a silent sign, one I recognized instantly. Friend.

My chest tightened at the realization. Not only had Arthur remembered that fleeting moment we shared when he was bleeding out on the beach, but he had learned the gesture. He had taken it as his own, stored it away like something precious, something worth keeping.

A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down, curling my finger a little tighter around his.

I made a quiet promise to teach him more later.

Arthur pulled me forward, guiding me through a submerged tunnel. The familiar structure clicked in my mind, recognition settling in my bones. We were entering the back section of the tank—the place away from prying eyes, from tourists pressing their faces against glass. This was his sanctuary. Where he spent his time when he wasn’t with me or the girls.

Curiosity sparked in my chest. What does he want to show me down here?

We swam deeper, the water thick with shadow, but I trusted his grip, the steady pull of his hands as he led me forward. And then, nestled within the rock and kelp, I saw it.

A small cave. A hidden space tucked away in the depths of the tank. I wasn’t sure how I knew—but I did. This was where he slept.

Something about it felt lived in, personal. The flattened kelp was arranged in a circular shape, almost like a nest. It wasn’t just a hiding place. It was his. I could picture him here, curled up in the quiet dark, unguarded, safe. For the first time since I had met him, I wondered what it felt like for him to rest. Unguarded, unshackled, away from cold prying eyes. To just be. 

Arthur pulled me inside, his arm wrapping instinctively around my waist as his bioluminescence flared to life. Light bloomed from his skin, illuminating the space in shifting blues and purples, and what I saw nearly stole the breath from my lungs.

The rock-like walls were etched with various drawings, their rough surfaces covered in markings that varied in detail and size. Some depicted the sea life he shared the tank with—familiar outlines of stingrays, sharks, seals and fish. Others were delicate sketches of underwater plants, their flowing tendrils stretching across the stone like living things.

Curiosity tugged at me, pulling me away from Arthur’s side. I swam closer, reaching out to trace my fingers over the carvings. The grooves were deep, uneven, reminding me of ancient cave drawings. He must have used his claws, carefully etching each image into the stone, leaving behind proof of his existence in this lonely place.

Behind me, Arthur was searching for something, his large hands sifting through layers of kelp. He reached beneath the safety of his makeshift bed, pulling out something dark and solid. But my attention was still on the walls, my heart hammering as I took in every detail of his underwater art.

Then, Arthur waved a hand, pulling me from my trance. I turned to him just as he pointed toward the farthest side of the cave.

And I released my breath.

There, among the sketches of fish and plants—was me.

It was a simple drawing, lacking the fine details of his other works, but it didn’t matter. With the rough material he had to work with, it was still a masterpiece. My heart ached at the sight of it, at the thought of him carving me into the walls of his world.

But it was what he did next that truly unraveled me.

Arthur lifted a webbed palm to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his skin. Then, with a small smile, he released a stream of bubbles toward the drawing—just like I had taught him. An expression of affection, a gesture so sweet it made my chest tighten.

I could have kissed him right then and there. Well, I tried to.

But this gentle giant, ever concerned for my well-being, misunderstood my intent. The moment our lips met, he must have thought I was seeking air. He held me there for a breath longer, and though I wished I could stay pressed against him forever, he was already wrapping a strong arm around my waist, propelling us forward with effortless strength.

I barely had time to process what had just happened before we were darting out of the cave, leaving the warmth of his sanctuary behind.

Arthur still held something tightly in his other palm, and as he guided me through the darkened waters, I realized we were heading somewhere new.

The temperature dropped, the light fading into near blackness.

The deep sea exhibit.

Once we reached a spot he found satisfactory, we floated in utter stillness. The silence of the deep pressed around us, thick and all-encompassing, making me acutely aware of my own heartbeat thrumming in my ears. The nerves crept up my spine again, cold and slithering.

It was pitch black.

I couldn’t see my own hands in front of me, couldn’t even make out Arthur’s features except for the faintest shimmer of his dimmed bioluminescence. He was holding back, keeping his glow subdued, and I had no idea why.

Why did he bring me here?

Then, all at once, his light flared to life.

The sudden brilliance stunned me, a galaxy of blues and purples bursting from his skin like a supernova in the dark. But it wasn’t just him, his radiance set off a chain reaction.

And the void around us moved.

At first, I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me, but then I saw them—hundreds of creatures emerging from the abyss, answering his call.

Arthur was a beacon, and the deep-sea life responded to him like moths to a flame. Lanternfish flickered in and out of sight, their tiny lights winking like stars in the midnight ocean. Jellies pulsed with ghostly luminescence, their delicate tendrils undulating as they drifted past. Squid, cuttlefish, sea angels—so many creatures I couldn’t begin to name—came to life before my eyes, weaving in and out of the glow like spirits caught between worlds.

They surrounded us in a slow, mesmerizing dance, silent sentinels bearing witness to whatever was about to unfold.

And at the center of it all was him.

Arthur’s radiance was breathtaking, his skin an ever-shifting nebula of color and light. But it wasn’t just his appearance that captivated me—it was the way the ocean responded to him, how it bent to his presence, how even the wildest, most elusive creatures drifted close as if he were something sacred.

He was neither fully man nor entirely mythical. He was something else entirely.

Something that felt indescribable. And in that moment, in the hush of the deep, I understood this pull toward him for what it truly was.

Love.

The solid object he had brought with him turned out to be a large oyster shell, its rough surface barely catching the faint, shifting glow of his bioluminescence. Holding it steady in one hand, he traced a pointed claw along its lip, prying it open with slow, practiced ease.

I watched him with quiet reverence as his fingers slipped inside, moving carefully, deliberately, as if retrieving something precious. When he finally pulled his hand free, his fingers curled tightly around whatever lay within—his fist closing around it with such purpose that my breath crawled up my throat.

A pearl. It had to be.

The empty shell drifted downward, spiraling slowly to the bottom of the tank, forgotten. Arthur didn’t watch it sink. His full attention was on me.

His hands found mine, and the moment our fingers met, my pulse thundered. Heat raced through my veins, my entire body suddenly hyper aware of the weight of the moment, of the way the water seemed charged around us. Before I could even find the words to ask what he was doing, his hand rose, his palm pressing gently against the curve of my neck.

Then, he breathed into me. Warmth spread through my lungs, steadying me, grounding me, but this time, it felt different. Because when he pulled away, his lips still so close I could feel the lingering press of his breath—his mouth moved.

Arthur was speaking. The realization sent a shiver rolling through me. And then I heard it.

His voice.

It was nothing like the deep, gravelly tone I knew from above water. Here, in his element, it was something else entirely.

A melody.

A song, resonant and fluid, shifting in pitch like the ebb and flow of the tide. It wasn’t just words—it was music, a chorus of sound that wrapped around me, kissed the deepest parts of me. It filled my chest, soaked into my bones, made my skin hum with the rhythm of it.

It was haunting. And heavenly.

Tears pricked at my eyes. I didn’t even understand the words, but I felt them. Like a current pulling me deeper, like a promise whispered between waves. And in that moment, I knew—he wasn’t just speaking.

He was singing to me.

Arthur opened his palm, revealing the pearl nestled against the warm glow of his skin. Its milky-white surface shimmered beneath the shifting blues and purples, catching the light like a tiny piece of the moon itself.

A gift. For me.

My heart thundered, a deep, resounding pulse that seemed to echo through every fiber of my being. My mind raced, recalling everything I had learned about his kind—about the significance of this. Gift-giving was a siren’s way of accepting courtship, of expressing mutual desire, a bond far deeper than mere affection.

Did sirens mate for life? Could they have more than one? Am I his first?

Why, of all creatures, did Arthur choose me?

The questions crashed over me like waves against the shore, relentless and unyielding. But then I looked at him. And every uncertainty melted away.

His gaze, luminous and breathtaking, held nothing but certainty. The sweetest smile tugged at his lips, his blue eyes alive with glowing radiance. There was no hesitation, no doubt in his expression. Only him—only us.

His lips moved again, shaping the words I now recognized, a melody that sent warmth cascading through me.

My hearts will follow you to the end.

Emotion swelled in my chest, thick and all-consuming. I reached for him, wrapping my fingers around his, closing the pearl between our palms—sheltering it, protecting it. Safe from the darkness of the tank, from the weight of the unknown, from all the uncertainties that once held me back. It was ours now, cradled between our touch, a silent vow sealed in the space where our hands met.

Arthur had brought light into my life, breath into my lungs, and adventure into my soul.

And as I pressed my lips to his, I knew—I would follow him too.

Into every horizon.

AN: Listen, lets just ignore the fact that aquarium tanks are absolutely NOT built like this. And we’re also gonna pretend that the reader can see underwater bc I forgot to add the goggles. OH WELL. We're getting creative. With the way everything is going, I'm hoping that the reader gets to fuck her fish man (husband) by chapter 9. YOU GO GIRL!

Also enjoy these inspo pics from that last scene. Utterly gorgeous creatures!! (CR to frida.yolotzin on instagram!)

[abbyfmc]

Yanderetober #2:

Yandere Kraken! x Sailor! Reader:

Myths of the sea, who isn't fascinated by them?

They have existed since human beings began to have the use of reason, all in order to prevent and warn sailors and naive people of the possible dangers of this part of the planet that has always been with us.

There have been stories about ghosts of drowned people trying to drag victims away; mermaids who hypnotized sailors or pirates, or mermen who hypnotized women and young girls in order to kill and eat them, or force them to be mermaids in order to reproduce and preserve the species; ghost pirate ships (or normal ships); monsters like the megalodon or the leviathan, and of course, the much-mentioned kraken.

The Kraken was a giant octopus or squid that lived in the depths of seas and oceans; and according to stories, it was responsible for several sinkings of ships, boats, cruise ships, submarines, canoes and even flooding of beaches, seaports, as well as coastal towns and cities if they were close enough to these places.

However, that was no impediment for a beautiful young woman like (T/n) to become a lover of the seas. Since she was a little girl she was passionate about everything that had to do with marine species, water currents and boats of ALL kinds. She trained and worked hard to become a very successful diver, as she became today, becoming one of the best.

On one of those days, she was out diving, exploring a bit when she was intercepted by a mythological being half human and half octopus, which she didn't see. When (Y/n) returned to the surface that being came out moments later without being noticed. She saw her take off her diving helmet on the boat, revealing her beautiful face and voice.

--'She's beautiful'-- he thought to himself.

From that moment on, he couldn't stop thinking about her, much less seeing her. He spied on her hidden behind some distant rocks while he was in his Cecaelia form, watching her clean the beach and port; explore the reefs, clean them and help the species that live there (which were mostly starfish, sponges, fish, small fish, crabs and turtles) and he admired seeing her passion and dedication to marine species.

He fell in love with her passion and dedication for the sea, her care for sea creatures, her beauty and kindness. He tried to get close to her, even tried to rehearse his words; but she always returned with those useless humans to the surface, without her even suspecting their existence.

So one day, fed up with not being able to have her, he decided to do something.

After collecting the best pearls and marine treasures for her, he thought about how to attract her since he knows that humans cannot live underwater, thinking about creating a spell to turn her into a beautiful mermaid and later, into his queen. He prepared the spell meticulously, and then went up to the surface where he found his beloved strolling on a boat. From what little he could see of the deck, it was decorated in an elegant and romantic way. In addition, his beloved (Y/n) was very pretty.

He was about to approach her, but then he saw a human man approaching him in a very lively manner and they began their date calmly. Both were enjoying the night, and the marine being could not bear the idea of ​​his beloved being with another; so he put his plan into action. He changed into his true form, and used its tentacles to split the ship in half with great force.

--Look out!-- He heard the other human male scream. The ship ended up sinking along with the one who was once (Y/n)'s boyfriend, who was dragged into the depths with that being, who gave her the spell through a kiss. She was understandably terrified and scared. She realized that she could see and hear perfectly well under the sea, and she also noticed the painful changes she was undergoing to be a mermaid.

--Who are you and what the hell are you?!-- She asked in the midst of all the pain as they stopped.

--I am someone who has watched and desired you for a long time. Someone who would not accept you staying away from me,-- the imposing kraken man replied, wrapping his arms around her in a hug while she suffered from pain due to the transformation.

--Let me go!-- She exclaimed, scared and angry, trying to separate herself as she felt her muscles, bones and arteries deform to join together in a mermaid tail.

--No way! You will be my queen! MINE!-- He shouted at her, angry at her refusal. She wanted to continue fighting, but she fainted in his arms.

Hours passed and she woke up in a kind of sunken shipwreck. It had half-open chests that revealed marine jewels such as gold, silver, pearls of all colors, copper and zinc. There were rings, simple stones, necklaces, earrings and a beautiful gold crown adorned with pearls. (Y/n), still horrified by her transformation from human to mermaid, was amazed by the beauty of the crown, which seemed to belong to a queen. She looked at it for a long time, and then someone spoke to her from outside the ship.

--It seems that someone has already woken up-- A male voice from outside said excitedly. --Good morning, my precious queen-- The kraken greeted her from outside, only its eye visible through the large hole in the ship's wall. She was frightened by her situation, as well as by the immense size of her kidnapper.

--You… who are you?-- She questioned fearfully, lying down.

--Oh, that's right; my name is Kai and I am the kraken ruler of all the seas. May I know yours?-- Kai showed up, pulling the mermaid out of the boat with the help of one of his tentacles without allowing her to free herself. --You are more beautiful than you already were-- She could only tremble in fear at this, because she could not imagine herself in the middle of this situation, at the hands of the kraken itself.

--I'm… (Y/n); what do you want from me?-- She asked fearfully.

--You, sweetie-- he smiled. --isn't it obvious?; I've been watching you for some time now--.

--But, for what?; My meat doesn't taste very good-- (Y/n) questioned, trying to excuse herself because she thought he was really going to eat her.

Kai just laughed for a while, which confused the mermaid. Kai calmed his laughter and then looked at her, bringing her a little closer to his face.

--Oh love, I don't plan on eating you or hurting you. I will make you my beloved queen, and we will take care of the seas and oceans together.-- Kai answered her with eyes full of loving obsession, accompanied by his raspy voice and a smile that was terrifying for poor (Y/n).

The terrified mermaid could only think about what awaited her in the future.

-The end.

[xi-vz]

Salt in His Lungs

•

•

•

Shang Qinghua had always been a little too obsessed with what people called “myths”.

Which is how he’d ended up as the senior researcher at the sleepy little marine observatory in Northport, logging sonar pings and monitoring the quiet migration of whales like some overly-qualified intern with carpal tunnel.

“Any more ‘sea serpent sightings’?” Shen Qingqiu asked dryly one morning, sipping coffee that was probably as bitter as he was.

“Nothing credible,” Shang Qinghua lied.

He did not mention the six blurry photos he’d taken of a creature with humanoid proportions and a sweeping black tail just outside their sonar buoy range. Or the way he’d caught glimpses of bright, intelligent eyes watching him when he worked alone.

Or the dreams.

The ones that left him gasping awake with salt on his lips and the echo of a voice in his head.

Curious. Strange. Deep as the ocean floor.

•••

Mobei Jun watched the land dwellers for as long as he could remember.

He did not trust them.

But he was curious.

Humans burned their skin under the sun. They left strange metal beasts in the water. They shouted and sang and cried all in the same breath. They were fragile, short-lived things—but bright, like bioluminescence in the dark.

One, in particular, had caught his eye.

Shang Qinghua.

He talked to himself when he thought no one was listening. He ate dried squid like it was a delicacy. And he spent more time on that old boat than he did on land.

Mobei Jun circled the hull often. Listened to Shang Qinghua’s voice filter down through the water, muffled and warm. He didn’t understand half of it, but it didn’t matter.

He liked the sound.

And one night, when the moon was high and the tide pulled close, he rose from the water.

Just enough for Shang Qinghua to see him.

“Holy hell!”

Shang Qinghua stared.

The creature—no, man—no, wait, merman—in the water was beautiful in a way that knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Black scales shimmered along a powerful tail, gleaming like obsidian. His skin was pale and flawless, his long dark hair slicked back from a sharp, unreadable face. Webbed hands gripped the boat’s edge.

His eyes, though.

They were the color of tropical waters.

“Are you going to scream?” the merman asked, voice low and strange, as if it had traveled miles through the sea to get here.

“No,” Shang Qinghua whispered. “Unless you’re here to murder me. Then—maybe.”

The merman tilted his head. “Why would I do that?”

“Habit? Curiosity? Predatory instinct?”

The merman blinked. “Curiosity.”

Shang Qinghua swallowed. “Great. Thats…swell. Please spare the equipment.”

The merman pressed his lips together and it almost looked like he was fighting back a smile. “I will not harm you.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you. I’m Shang Qinghua. What’s your name?”

The merman paused. “Mobei Jun.”

“…Jesus. That’s intimidating.”

“You may call me Mobei Jun,” he repeated, slowly, like it was a great honor.

Shang Qinghua grinned, dazed. “Oh, I plan to.”

•••

Mobei Jun came back again the next night.

And the next.

He never stayed long. Sometimes he brought things—a shell, a piece of driftwood, an anchor lost long ago to rust. Sometimes he just listened.

Shang Qinghua talked too much, always had, and now he had someone who listened with a stillness that felt like gravity.

“Why are you interested in me?” Shang Qinghua asked once, sitting cross-legged on the deck, one hand trailing in the water.

Mobei Jun hovered just below the surface. His voice carried up like mist. “You look at the ocean the way I look at the sky.”

Shang Qinghua’s throat went tight. “What do you mean?”

“You long for it,” Mobei Jun said. “Even when it does not belong to you.”

•••

They learned from each other quickly.

Words. Emotions. Touch.

Shang Qinghua taught him how to laugh. How to swear. How to make a terrible instant noodle dinner with too much spice.

Mobei Jun, in turn, showed him what it meant to move through the world without boundaries. How silence could be a language. How depth could be endless.

They kissed only once—soft, wet, uncertain. But it left Shang Qinghua rattled, his heart thrashing like a hooked fish.

“Why do you come back?” he asked one night, voice almost breaking.

Mobei Jun stared at him. “Because I want to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“You.”

•••

The sea was not kind.

Word spread among the deep.

That Mobei Jun consorted with a human. That he lingered too long in shallow waters. That he was changing.

“Come with me,” Mobei Jun said one night, his voice urgent, jaw tight. “Leave this place. I will take you below. You will be safe.”

Shang Qinghua blinked. “What? No—I mean, I can’t. I’d die, Mobei.”

“I would not let you.”

“That’s not the point!”

But the look in Mobei Jun’s eyes was raw.

He had never asked for anything before. And now, when he did, it was too much.

“I’m not like you,” Shang Qinghua said softly. “I can’t breathe underwater. I’d drown. I’m fragile and ridiculous and …and…I mean…you’d get bored of me within a week.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know,” Shang Qinghua whispered. “And that’s what scares me.”

•••

The next night, Mobei Jun didn’t come.

Nor the one after that.

The sea was quiet.

Shang Qinghua stopped going out on the boat. He stayed inside, watched the shore through his office window, chewed on pens until the ink stained his fingers.

The world kept turning.

But it felt duller without those eyes watching from the dark.

•••

A week later, he found something on the dock.

A man.

Naked, trembling, salt drying on his skin. Legs that shook like a newborn foal’s. Scars along his ribs, as if something had torn free.

His eyes were the color of tropical waters.

Shang Qinghua almost dropped to his knees. “Mobei?”

The man looked up. “I figured it out.”

“Figured—what?”

“How to walk,” Mobei Jun said, like it was obvious. “How to breathe like you. How to give up the ocean.”

Shang Qinghua’s heart stuttered. “You can’t just give up the ocean—”

“I already have.”

Mobei Jun’s hand reached for his.

“I would rather drown in your world than forget your voice in mine.”

Shang Qinghua let out a wet shaky breath. He pulled Mobei Jun in close, and tried to wrap him in his coat as he pressed their foreheads together.

“Welcome to land,” he whispered. “It sucks. But I’m glad you’re here.”

[the-mortuary-witch]

LEVIATHAN

WHO IS HE?

In Demonic mythology, Leviathan is often considered a powerful demon that embodies chaos and destruction. He is often depicted as a sea serpent, dragon, or sea monster. He is believed to be a symbol of evil and the embodiment of all that is dark and destructive in the world. In some traditions, Leviathan is also associated with deep waters and the depths of the sea, and is often thought to have the ability to create immense storms.

BASIC INFO: 

Appearance: a massive, black or blue scaled serpentine-dragon with silver eyes that shine like stars; his body spans dozens of meters even when coiled. Leviathan usually keeps his eyes squinted when around others since if he fully opens them, it creates a massive blast of immense despair.

Personality: Leviathan values loyalty more than anything. He also values love, innocence, idealism, intelligence, and serenity. He is deeply ponderous and serious, and sometimes he can appear to be dire when overcome by despair. He is very meticulous and patient as well, and despite his dark and serious behaviour, he will show compassion towards those who are innocent. He usually prefers being alone and seldomly speaks to anyone, making him one of the most withdrawn demons. Leviathan is incredibly austere and diligent, as well as powerful. He is easily able to crush the psychologically defenses of armies just by approaching them. Leviathan is the ancient dragon who destroys all that is redundant (be it people, places, or ideas); he tears right through them but does not devour them. These things instead scatter apart over vast distances so that better things can come forth. Overall, Leviathan tends to be cold, calculating, dispassionate, and very reserved with most beings. He rarely speaks to anyone except only when necessary. Like every being, Leviathan has a shadow aspect, which is his darker and destructive side. This side emerges when Leviathan is overcome by his own grief, causing him to become cold, sadistic, and robotic in personality. This side of him is the one which created a race of entities which are very similar to the Cenobites mentioned in the books by Clive Barker. Leviathan creates these beings from select humans who are being tormented in his realm and transforms them into cold-natured beings who know nothing but pain and act as sado-masochistic torturers for Hell. 

Symbols: The Leviathan Cross, serpents, dragons, seaweed, envy, seashells, and the sea

King/Ruler of: despair, pain, loneliness, isolation, chaos, envy, desolation, the sea, and defense

Culture: Demonic and Jewish

Plants: seaweed, lotus, iris, mint, lavender, reeds, and palo santo

Crystals: aquamarine, black tourmaline, azurite, larimar, obsidian, smoky quartz, ocean jasper, bloodstone, kyanite, sapphire, pearl, moonstone, tanzanite, clear quartz and enhydro quartz

Animals: serpents, dragons, crocodile, and whale

Incense: frankincense, copal, sandalwood, myrrh, eucalyptus, mint, lavender, calamus, and palo santo

Practices: water divination, shadow work, chaos magick, self-growth, protection, and transformation

Colours: blue, teal, silver, turquoise, black, emerald green, and white 

Numbers: N/A

Zodiacs: Pisces and Aquarius 

Tarot: Justice and The Devil

Planet: Neptune

Days: N/A

Parents: N/A

Sibling: Behemoth

Partner: unnamed partner

Children: N/A

MISC:

Dragons: in many cultures, dragons are often seen as powerful and fearsome creatures, and are associated with deep waters and the sea. Similarly, Leviathan is also a powerful and fearsome creature associated with the sea. It is possible that the idea of Levianthian creatures, such as sea serpents or dragons, emerged from the same deep waters and mysterious depths of the sea that Leviathan was associated with.

Serpents: particularly sea serpents, are often associated with Leviathan due to the similar nature and behaviour of the two creatures. Both are often depicted as large, powerful, and fearsome creatures that are able to move through the water effortlessly and strike with great force. Serpents are also often associated with wisdom, healing, and transformation, which are qualities that are sometimes attributed to Leviathan as well.

The sea: in Jewish mythology, the sea is often seen as a place of chaos and danger, and is associated with the unknown and the untamed. Leviathan, as a powerful and fearsome sea creature, is seen as embodying this chaotic and dangerous aspect of the sea, and is often associated with the raw power and mystery of the natural world. This association with the sea and chaos is also seen in the story of the creation of the world in Jewish mythology, which is said to have been made from the deep and chaotic waters of the sea.

Chaos: in many religious and mythological traditions, chaos is seen as a primordial state of disorder and emptiness, out of which the world and all of creation were formed. Leviathan, as a powerful and fearsome sea creature, was seen as embodying this state of chaos and destruction, and was thought to represent the raw and untamed power of the natural world. This association with chaos and the untamed wild is also seen in other mythological creatures in Jewish traditions, such as the Behemoth, which is often portrayed as a huge and destructive beast that represents the untamed and uncontrollable forces of nature.

Seaweed: it is often associated with Leviathan and other sea creatures because it is commonly found in the sea and is an important part of the marine ecosystem. Seaweed is often found clinging to rocks and other structures in the sea, and is an important food source for many marine creatures. It is also seen as a sign of abundant life in the sea, as it requires a healthy and productive ocean ecosystem to thrive. In addition, seaweed is sometimes associated with the idea of hidden power and potential, as it may hold secrets or properties that are not immediately apparent.

FACTS ABOUT LEVIATHAN:

He enjoys being seen as more of a dragon than a demon. 

Leviathan can create tsunamis and create needles of water and skewer opponents.

He can manifest hellfire all over his body and incinerate his surroundings and targets at once.

Leviathan is one of the most powerful demons in Hell, personifying Envy which is one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

As the demonic ruler of the seas, Leviathan possess unlimited control over the oceans and all who dwell within.

Chaos manipulation: Leviathan is often described as an embodiment of chaos. 

His ability allows him to travel across universes. 

HOW TO INVOKE LEVIATHAN:

Speak to King Leviathan as you would with any other god, be polite and considerate, especially since he is royalty. Contact him through telepathically speaking in your mind, directing the words to him (you can do this verbally, but if malicious spirits hear, they may pretend to be him). Try to dress formally as well, and do not demand things from him. For those who are depressed, please keep in mind that speaking to Leviathan causes you to become exposed to his energy, which will lead to your depression becoming worse. 

PRAYER FOR LEVIATHAN:

Great Leviathan, powerful and fierce, I come to you in humble admiration of your strength and might.

You are a reminder of the raw power of nature and the chaos that can exist within it. Help me to channel that strength within myself, and to use it for good and for the protection of those I care about.

Guide me, Great Leviathan, and watch over me with your all-seeing eye. Hail Great Leviathan.

SIGNS THAT LEVIATHAN IS CALLING YOU:

Dreaming of the sea or being close to the sea. 

Wanting to be close to bodies of water. 

You feel a sense of deep connection or attraction to the ocean or sea.

A strong desire for power and control in your life.

You feel a sense of chaos or disorder in your life and a desire to bring order to it.

Feeling a connection to creatures from the sea, such as sea serpents or other aquatic creatures.

You are drawn to the colours black and green.

A deep fascination with the concept of primal chaos and the chaos that precedes creation.

You have a strong sense of power and self-confidence, and a desire to assert yourself and take charge in your life.

OFFERINGS:

Sea salt. 

Blue, teal, silver, turquoise, black and emerald green, or white candles. 

Seashells. 

Images of serpents or dragons. 

Animal bones. 

Food and drinks: tea, candy, red wine, ice cold water in a glass cup (never plastic), drinks or foods that contain blueberries, dried seaweed, and cooked fish. 

Sand. 

Knives or daggers. 

Blood (DO NOT harm yourself, either offer menstrual blood or blood from an accidental cut).

Tobacco. 

Fish bones or crawfish legs. 

Crystals: aquamarine, black tourmaline, azurite, larimar, obsidian, smoky quartz, ocean jasper, bloodstone, kyanite, sapphire, pearl, moonstone, tanzanite, clear quartz and enhydro quartz. 

Sea water (salt water). 

Blue flowers. 

Incense: frankincense, copal, sandalwood, myrrh, eucalyptus, mint, lavender, and palo santo. 

Fish scales. 

Shark or megalodon teeth. 

Music. 

DEVOTIONAL ACTS:

Picking up litter along waterways. 

Staying hydrated. 

Listening to dark, ambient music, dark wave and dark chanting.

Caring for your fish, turtle, sea monkey, axolotl, etc. 

Wearing anything with the colours blue, teal, silver, turquoise, black, green, or white. 

Self-care. 

Beach combing. 

Donating to climate change/ocean clean up and protection organizations. 

Seeking knowledge. 

Taking care of your snake. 

Collecting sea water. 

Meditating near the beach or a body of water encircled with calming sounds to connect with Leviathan on a deeper level.

Swim in His honour, or teach someone else how to swim.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Folie À Deux

Little Nightmares x Teen Wolf

Title: Folie À Deux

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandoms: Little Nightmares (Masterlist) x Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Stiles and Derek fall through a portal and get lost in the world of Little Nightmares, running from all manner of monsters as they try to find their way back home.

They wake in a nightmare world filled with all manner of horrifying monsters far more menacing than any they've ever encountered before, navigating their way through the depths of a creaking old vessel at the bottom of the ocean. They spend what feels like days there, scavenging for scraps of bread and cheese (though Derek warns them against eating the meat, something about it doesn't smell right.) They find a flashlight and a silver cigarette lighter tucked inside of an over-large suitcase filled to the brim with old newspaper clippings, and use it to coax flames to life in quaint little lanterns scattered across the landscape, warding off the chill from the constant drip drip drip of the pipes threatening to burst and flood the lower levels with saltwater. Stiles likes the lanterns, likes the way they bathe the walls in a soft golden glow, at odds with the hazy grays and twilit blues of the gloomy depths, igniting a little spark of hope inside him that somehow, some way, they'll find their way back home.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

The nemeton is active, blurring the lines between Beacon Hills and other worlds. Not your average alternate timeline or parallel universe, mind you. These other worlds, they aren't supposed to exist, thought to be nothing more than the musings of madmen, myth and legend, fairytales and folklore. 

Then again, so are werewolves.

It starts with little things, slipping through the cracks at the collapse of the gateways, bleeding in one obscure anomaly at a time — technology that shouldn't exist for another hundred years, fantastic beasts leaping from the pages of fictitious magical worlds, odd little creatures that scurry and scratch at an unfamiliar earth.

Then come the disappearances — people, buildings, whole sections of town, sucked into the ground like quicksand, vanishing in the blink of an eye, only to reappear seconds, hours, sometimes months later, and never quite in the same place as when they'd been stolen. It had taken the better part of a year for the pack to seal off every portal, with more than enough near-deaths and almost gone forevers to last a lifetime, until only one remained. The trouble was, they hadn't been able to track down its exact location…until now.

In the middle of a forest sits a battered old television, clumps of dirt and autumn leaves stuck in the little plastic grooves that comprise the speakers, vines twisting and winding their way around the extendable metal antennae. Stiles stares down at it with one eyebrow quirked in confusion, wondering who in the hell had managed to drag this broken down 90's relic into the middle of the woods, and then had the nerve to leave it there. 

Curiosity getting the better of him, he crouches down in front of it, hands splayed over a crack in the screen, fingertips absentmindedly fiddling with the dials, when the television blares to life, emitting a high-pitched static and a low, moaning drone. Stiles screams as the palms of his hands begin to sink into the depths of the screen, an invisible force tugging him through to the other side. 

In an instant, Derek's arms are wrapped around his torso, urging him back. Within seconds, he's flanked by Scott, Peter, and Chris, eyes screwed up in equal parts effort and agony, eardrums threatening to burst from the shrill shriek of the broadcast. But the pull is too strong, forcing them forward like the current in an undertow, until they're tumbling head-first through the screen, sending a powerful blast backward that knocks Peter, Chris, and Scott off their feet. The television trills one final ear-splitting note, and when the screen goes black, Stiles and Derek are gone.

• • •

They wake in a nightmare world filled with all manner of horrifying monsters far more menacing than any they've ever encountered before, navigating their way through the depths of a creaking old vessel at the bottom of the ocean. They spend what feels like days there, scavenging for scraps of bread and cheese (though Derek warns them against eating the meat, something about it doesn't smell right.) 

They find a flashlight and a little silver cigarette lighter tucked inside of an over-large suitcase filled to the brim with old newspaper clippings and mildewed clothing stretched far too tall and thin, and use it to coax flames to life in quaint little lanterns scattered across the landscape, warding off the chill from the constant drip drip drip of the pipes threatening to burst and flood the lower levels with saltwater. Stiles likes the lanterns, likes the way they bathe the walls in a soft golden glow, at odds with the hazy grays and twilit blues of the gloomy depths, igniting a little spark of hope inside him that somehow, some way, they'll find their way back home. 

He's wary, at first, of the attention they attract, but quickly learns that the shriveled little creatures akin to sentient rotted mushrooms mean them no harm, and are merely looking for a means to warm their hands, too — little lost things, adrift in a vessel of horrors beneath the waves. Stiles takes to calling them no-names, which Derek shortens to nomes after begrudgingly accepting their company. Sometimes they bring them things — little trinkets, scraps of food, a little music box that plays a haunting, hypnotic melody — as a means of thanking Stiles and Derek for keeping them safe. And then, one day, entirely by accident, one of the little creatures leads them to the way out.

There's something strange about the proportions of this world, as though it was built for giants, or perhaps Stiles and Derek are just very small by comparison, because they manage to fit through the series of port holes, tunnels, and ventilation shafts that wind through the ship like a maze with relative ease. Level by level, they make their way through the bowels of the ship, dodging the watchful eyes of a spotlight that nearly turns them both to stone, narrowly avoiding bloodsucking leeches the size of mountain lions that drop down from the ceiling and squelch up through the splintering floorboards.

A floating staircase leads them to a bedroom with dresser drawers that tower above them and curl to the side like a crooked finger. With a tarnished golden key stolen from a nightstand, they make their way through a rickety lift and down a darkened tunnel, through a room filled with a sea of shoes and an unseen monster that lurks just beneath the surface, through dusty old rooms lined with ticking grandfather clocks and libraries filled with books piled high that twist and spiral to the ceiling, all the while outrunning a blind janitor with limbs like a venomous spider. 

He traps them in a room with no escape except for a hole in the wall that's been sealed shut set high above them, spindly arms reaching for them from underneath the doorframe, feeling for them in the semi-darkness, at the ready to grab and squeeze the air from their lungs. Together, they manage to pull the bars from the cage crushed underneath the door, holding it aloft, and trigger it to slam shut, severing the monster's arms. The sealed port above them loosens from the impact, and the two of them sweep into the tunnel without a backward glance, journeying so far into the claustrophobic darkness until the agonized screams of the janitor are snuffed out by the creaking of the ship and the crash of the ocean waves.

The rest of the climb passes by in a dizzying blur as they outrun a pair of bloodthirsty chefs, narrowly avoid becoming part of the foul fest the grotesque guests so feverishly chase them through, and outwit a demon woman wrought from shadow and smoke with nothing but a mirror and a trick of the light, until finally, they reach the top-most level of the ship, where golden sunlight bathes the walls of a staircase leading to the way out, the cries of seagulls and crashing waves and the smell of salty sea air a welcome change from the clanking and groaning of the ship, the rot and mildew of the lower levels.

Derek heads toward the light without a second thought, but Stiles falls back, lured by a curious crackling sound emanating from a corridor just behind them, cast in shadows and filled with a hazy, violet glow. Time seems to slow as Stiles makes his way toward the door at the end of the hallway, fingertips brushing the bronze handle with an all-seeing eye carved into its splintering frame. With barely a ghost of a touch, the door opens, and there sits another one of those battered old televisions, identical to the one they first came through. Stiles lets out a triumphant bark of laughter and falls to his knees in front of it, tinkering with the dials. 

Derek's heart gives a stutter, and a surge of adrenaline — a warning shot — white hot and acrid, courses through his veins as Stiles presses his hands to the screen. He urges Stiles to run, to come with him while they still have the chance to escape, but Stiles insists that this is their way out, that it must be connected to the portal that led them here, and if he could just figure out the right frequency to activate it, he knows it'll lead them home.

The cacophony of changing channels pierces through the darkened room, drowning out the inviting sounds of the world beyond the walls of this terrible vessel, the blinding light of the screen bleaching the damask wallpaper patterned across every inch of the lady's quarters, each scene fading and flickering to life in the span of a few seconds as Stiles toys with the dials — an old cooking show set to a children's nursery rhyme, a handprint with an eye embedded into its palm, a series of triangles with more of those same eerie eyes adorning their centers, an old horror film featuring a looming shadow creeping toward its sleeping victim, crackling static overlaying hues of heathered gray, and then—

The television gives a low hum, and a figure flares to life on the screen, swathed in shadows and blurred at the edges by a faint glittering darkness. Stiles's fist punches the air with a shout of victory, exclaiming that it must be Scott, or Chris, or Peter, calling out to them, calling them back home, but Derek is far from relieved. With each ebb and flow of the glowing screen, the figure grows closer, until all they can see is a pair of long-fingered hands pressed against the other side, and Stiles, far too wrapped up in his own excitement and desperation to heed Derek's frantic pleas, mirrors them.

History repeats itself — only this time, Derek reaches out to grasp the back of Stiles's shirt a fraction of a second too late. In an instant, he's gone, disappearing faster than a changing channel, the impact of the transit shattering the screen before Derek can follow him through. Panic floods him like a wildfire, shards of glass digging into his knees and the palms of his hands as he sinks to the floor in front of the broken screen, trying desperately to piece it back together, begging it to come back to life and allow him passage. 

He doesn't know how long he stays there, curled into a ball on the floor, waiting for a sign, a flash of light, the relief of Stiles's voice, something, anything, to tell him where to go next. In the distance, a seagull cries out to its pack before the sound is swallowed by another thunderous crash of ocean waves against the hull of the ship, and Derek's head perks up, eyes following a pathway of golden light. Limbs aching, muscles static and straining from the coiled tension his panic had kept them locked in for so long, Derek slowly makes his way up the winding staircase, blinking against the blinding light of the sun, mesmerized by the way it dances across the surface of the sea, bursting into a kaleidoscope of fiery yellows and tranquil blues.

He weighs his chances of survival against jumping head-first into the unknown depths of an ocean on another world and simply swimming until he reaches the shore, but then remembers the slew of terrifying creatures they'd faced on the ship, and thinks better of it. If his own world was once home to the great megalodon and mosasaurus, he can only imagine what horrors must lurk below. 

Luckily, he doesn't have to wait too long in the sweltering heat to figure out a better way. Another sailor's misfortune blesses Derek with a makeshift vessel, and with nothing but hope and faith to guide him, he sails west on a scrap of old shipwreck until the shore meets the edge of a forest, and he descends into a canopy of pine trees shrouded in mist, the cold, dew-soaked grass beneath his bare feet a welcome change from the coarse heat of the sand and salty sea. 

He's so exhausted, and the grass that surrounds him is so tall, that he doesn't notice he's been snared by the hunter's trap until he hears the screech of the clanking metal, and a pain like he's never felt before shudders through his left leg. His world blacks out, and when he wakes, he's in the basement of an old cabin, with nothing for company but the sounds of groaning, wheezing, and scraping as the old hunter quakes through the upper floors.

He tries his damnedest to escape, clawing at the door with what little of the shift he can muster, but he's still healing, blood oozing from the fang-like wounds where the jaws of the bear trap had clamped down on his thigh. Derek heaves a defeated sigh as he slumps against the wall and slides into a sitting position, wincing as something sharp digs into his hip. Annoyed, he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out the music box one of the nomes had given him while he was on the ship.

Oddly, it's this little trinket that gives him hope. After all, if something so small and fragile can survive the treacherous journey, then why couldn't he?

• • •

Stiles wakes in the middle of a forest at twilight, the smell of salty sea air married with fresh pine and rain-soaked leaves filling his lungs, a battered old television at his feet. For a moment, for one beautiful, delirious moment, he allows himself the foolish overconfidence of believing that his plan actually worked. A swell of relief rises in his chest as he scrambles to his feet, calling out to the space beside him — Derek, we did it! We made it back to Beacon Hills! We're finally…Derek? — but he's alone.

An icy chill that has nothing to do with the rainy atmosphere skitters across the back of his neck, nerve endings igniting with the buzzing of a thousand angry hornets as the all too familiar pang of panic coils inside his chest. The world around him spins until it's nothing more than a blur of malachite and midnight blue, the knees of his jeans soaked with mud as Stiles sinks to the forest floor. He's alone. He's the farthest from home he's ever been, and this time, he doesn't even have Derek by his side. 

By the time he manages to get his panic under control, the forest has slipped into even deeper shades of nightfall. He lifts his head, swiping at a swatch of dirt and grass imprinted in his cheek, and waits for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness, the blurred outlines of towering trees and jagged cliff faces slowly taking shape in the distant fog. The wind howls like a wild, wounded animal, and a frisson of fear runs down the length of Stiles's spine.

This isn't anything like the preserve. This forest is far more sinister. 

Slowly, shakily, Stiles coaxes himself to his feet, and sets off into the unknown. He weaves his way through the wilderness, dodging bear traps with jagged rows of teeth like shark's jaws and fallen tree trunks that threaten to crush him under their weight, until finally, he comes across a cabin hidden in the heart of the woods. 

Stiles heaves a frustrated sigh. He knows how this goes. He's seen every horror movie known to man. He knows exactly how this cabin in the woods trope ends, and let's just say that it doesn't exactly bode well for his character. But — and again he lets out a weary sigh — it's also the first sign of life he's seen in hours, and he hasn't exactly been thriving in the wilderness. 

His stomach chooses this well-timed moment to speak its piece, letting out a low, rumbling growl to remind him of just how little food he's eaten these past few…days? Weeks? He isn't sure how long he's been here, but the stale bread and cheese they'd scavenged on the Maw hadn't exactly been filling. Cursing every choice that has ever lead him to this point in his life, Stiles takes the path so many fools before him have traveled, and slowly, cautiously, sneaks his way up the creaking wooden stairs of the front porch.

One of his sneakers accidentally kicks aside a couple of glass bottles as he climbs through the open window, the resulting crash like a bomb detonating in the eerie silence. Stiles freezes, one leg poised on the countertop, one still straddled over the ledge of the window, knuckles whitening as he grips the frame. He waits for the inevitable screech of rage, the rattle of a door banging open, the barrel of a shotgun aimed between his eyes — but nothing happens. Whoever lives here must not be home.

Stiles releases the breath he'd been holding, shaking hands clinging to the countertop to steady himself as he eases the rest of the way inside. Any hope he'd had of finding even a scrap of food to steal dies as he takes in the sight of the room he's just landed in. Every inch of the dimly lit kitchen is covered in a thick layer of filth and grime, from the cracked stone countertops to the crooked cabinets splintering between layers of acid green paint, a cloud of flies swarming over a corroded cooking pot filled with a lumpy stew that looks and smells as though it's been sitting there rotting for weeks. 

Swallowing back a retch, Stiles bypasses the wooden tabletop littered with old tin cans and empty beer bottles, a thick syrup of rusty brown blood dripping from crude cuts of questionable meat onto the mislaid wooden floorboards rife with rusted nails — a veritable minefield of tetanus — and wrenches open the door. He lands in a corridor lined with dust-coated picture frames and hunting trophies amidst peeling wallpaper and poorly patched holes dotted with black mold, and nearly trips over a mildewed, moth eaten throw rug leading the way to a cellar door, ever so slightly ajar, at the end of the hall.

He isn't stupid enough to venture down to the basement — or so he tells himself, until the faint sound of a familiar, haunting melody makes him stop dead in his tracks. Throwing all caution to the wind, Stiles sprints toward the door, wrestles it open, and bolts down the creaking wooden steps. The further he descends, the louder the music grows — but it's still muffled, locked behind a door that bears the unmistakable marks of a set of wolf's claws. 

A thrill of hope bubbles up inside his chest like an uncorked champagne bottle. He calls out, but his voice is hoarse and ragged, the music on the other side of the door so loud that it drowns him out. He scans the dingy cellar, searching for a key, a tool to help him pick the lock, anything that will allow him to break through. 

And then he spots it — a hatchet, propped up in the corner, standing on its head. Like everything else in this world, it's monumentally bigger than it has any right to be, but Stiles manages to pick it up, an almost satisfying vibrato radiating through his forearms as he drags the sharpened metal across the grooved wooden floor.

He positions himself in front of the door wrecked with desperate claw marks, axe poised over his head, ready to strike. There's a sharp gasp, and the wistful melody of the music box stutters to a halt as the blade cleaves the door with a resounding crack. Satisfied with his destruction, Stiles steps over the splintering threshold. 

The room is small, cramped, and somehow even lonelier than the shabby ruins of the upper levels. A sinister array of meat hooks hangs from the ceiling like eldritch stalactites, flecks of dust spiraling in the silver glow of the moon shining down through the grimy window set high above him, casting a spotlight over a small woodworking table backed against the opposite wall. And, lurking in the shadows just beneath the table, a pair of all too familiar eyes fading from a bright, glowing crimson to a soft forest green, staring at him in equal parts awe and disbelief.

The name leaves his lips on a sob as he rushes forward, falling to his knees and wrapping his arms around the other man's shoulders. Stubble burns his skin as Derek buries his face in Stiles's hair, breathing him in with a series of deep, shuddering breaths. Strong hands cradle his face, thumbprint smoothing the curves of his cheekbones and the jut of his jaw, fingertips tracing a series of freckles and moles scattered across his skin like he's mapping them from memory, charting constellations. 

There's a fierce, determined look in Derek's eyes just seconds before they flutter closed, and then he's leaning forward, pressing his forehead against the top of Stiles's, warm breath ghosting over Stiles's lips. His hands shake with an entirely different brand of nerves as Stiles grasps the collar of Derek's shirt and tugs him closer, reveling in the soft little whine it elicits. He can feel Derek's heartbeat thrumming a staccato beneath his knuckles, wild enough to rival his own.

The sudden clamor of thunderous footsteps overhead sends it into overdrive, snuffing out the spell of the moment like a hurricane through candlelight, a cruel reminder of where they are and how desperately they need to escape. Together, they creep their way through the floors of the cabin and venture once more into the twilit wilderness, submerging under swampy waters and threading through perilous prairies as they dodge the watchful eyes and buckshot bullets of the horrible hunter. He chases them across the landscape, cornering them in an old shed, the sound of his fists pounding against the door swiftly replaced by a deafening ringing as they dismount one of his shotguns from the wall and fire a round straight into his chest.

When they recover from the shock enough to leave the shed, they find themselves at the edge of the shore, gentle waves lapping against the moonlit sand a stark contrast from the horrors they'd just endured. Together, they climb aboard the same driftwood door that Derek had used as a vessel to escape the Maw, and sail east through a sea littered with a peculiar assortment of flotsam — hundreds upon hundreds of those same old televisions, bobbing up and down out of the water like the fins of a terrible sea monster. Dense fog shrouds them in a world of white, the sea a muted black beneath them, until finally, the mist clears just enough to reveal the hazy outline of a landscape cloaked in an everlasting storm.

Icy raindrops pierce their skin like tiny daggers as they make their way through a pale city crowded with scoliotic skyscrapers, through a children's boarding school and a hospital, two places that should be safe, though in this world, are anything but. Together, they shatter the heads of demonic porcelain dolls who might once have been innocent schoolchildren, dodging deadly traps and sneak attacks as they wander through the school, narrowly outrunning a sadistic teacher with a neck like a serpent who snaps at their heels as she chases them through a ventilation shaft, and meets a similar fate to the spindly armed janitor as Stiles's wishful thinking triggers the window to slam shut and sever her head.

The abandoned hospital haunts them with severed hands that skitter across the floor like spiders, living mannequins frozen by torchlight that click and shutter as they chase after them in the dark, and an experimental surgeon who crawls around on the ceiling tiles with a thunderous gait, escaping him just long enough to trap him in one of his own incinerators and warm their freezing hands by the firelight. They travel across a misty cityscape in the swell of a constant storm, watching in horror as citizens fall from the rooftops in droves, driven mad by the broadcast. They make their way through a collapsing building and seek shelter in the last flat left standing in its crumbling ruins, raiding the pantries for scraps of food.

They're settled against the wall that marries the kitchen with the living room, a pile of snacks and cereal split between them that tastes simultaneously bland and far too rich, when they hear it — a low, groaning hum and a crackle of static emanating from a room at the end of the hall. Curious, they get up and go to investigate. The moment they enter the room, a television, its legs half swallowed by the splintering cracks in the floorboards, blares to life, bathing the room in an ivory glow.

Seconds later, an image flickers across the screen — that same shadowy figure that had stalked them on the Maw, faint and blurred around the edges, as though the creature itself is made from electricity struggling to find the right frequency — a man, tall and thin in stature, growing steadily larger as with each glowing, groaning ebb and flow of the transmission, it comes closer to the edge of the screen.

"Scott?" Stiles says softly, a tentative thread of hope bleeding into the uncertainty and wariness of his tone. Just as it had before, the figure places a pair of long-fingered hands against the screen, and without thinking, as though hypnotized by the steady hum of the broadcast, Stiles mimics him, placing his hands against the glass and feeling a warm, electrical buzzing just beneath his fingertips.

"Stiles," Derek cautions in a voice that shakes despite his conviction, reaching out an arm to splay across Stiles's chest like it'll be enough to hold him back. "I don't think that's Scott."

"Then who—" Stiles starts, but the rest of his words die on a terrified scream as the figure defies all laws of logic and emerges through the screen, one long, wiry limb at a time. 

A faint, crackling, glittering darkness still swarms around it like a cloud of fireflies, but they can see its face clearly now, lips curved upward in an impish grin, pale skin a stark contrast to the blackened bruises under its sunken eyes, Stiles's own visage reflected back at him, exactly as he'd looked when the nogitsune had possessed him. Before he can heed Derek's desperate pleas to run, before he can so much as scream, the nogitsune grasps him by the collar of his shirt and drags him toward the screen, disappearing in a crackle of electricity.

Determined to rescue him, Derek swallows back the tidal wave of panic threatening to overtake him, and crouches down in front of the still glowing television, pressing his hands against the screen in the same way he'd watched Stiles do it mere seconds before. It's a strange sensation, like a live wire licking the outline of his fingertips, currents coursing through his nerve endings, igniting them in an all-encompassing warmth that's almost too much to bear. A steady vibration makes his bones feel like they're rattling, and then the screen quivers and his fingers begin to sink through it like quicksand. All at once, the world tips him forward and he falls through, hurtling through darkness tinged at the edges with a hazy, violet glow.

• • •

An agonized scream pierces through him like a poison-tipped arrow, and Derek wakes in a world at war with gravity, objects floating in mid-air, disappearing into the depths of the sky-swallowing ceiling. Even he seems to float here, his feet lifting off the ground with ease as he runs, soles slapping against hard concrete. He follows the heartbreaking symphony of cries that had haunted his nightmares ever since the connection to his living anchor had made it possible for them to share each other's dreamscape, up winding flights of stairs leading to dead-ended corridors and doorways that seem to be portals all their own, until finally, he finds him, locked in a room in the tallest level of the tower. 

But he isn't alone. The nogitsune, wearing Stiles's face, stands at his shoulder, binding him with invisible shackles, a cruel smile curling across its lips as it taunts him, whispering all manner of vile lies in his ear.

Terror tears through Derek as scenes from a nightmare made real play out right in front of him. He knows this one by heart, had heard it recounted nearly a dozen times by a sobbing, inconsolable Stiles, curled up in a ball on his living room couch. But nothing, not even glimpses of the memory plucked from Stiles's dreams, can compare to seeing it in the flesh. Derek watches in abject horror as Kira's katana materializes in Stiles's shaking hands, and though he cries, though he begs, though he struggles to resist and fight back, plunges it through Scott's stomach with a sickening squelch, twisting the hilt as blood drips scarlet down Scott's lips. Stiles lets out a wounded whimper and collapses onto his knees, face buried in the palms of his hands, but the nogitsune isn't in a patient or forgiving mood, and forces him back up onto his trembling feet with a rough tug at his collar. 

Anger courses through Derek's veins, overpowering the paralyzing fear that had kept him frozen to the spot, and he rushes forward, placing a bracing hand on either side of Stiles's shoulders in an effort to keep him steady. He tries to call out to him, to get him to snap out of whatever trance the nogitsune has him under, but it's no use. Stiles is far too lost in his nightmare spiral, a prisoner inside his own body. He blinks a few times, staring up at Derek with vague recognition in his glazed, glassy eyes.

"Derek?" Stiles asks softly, an almost disbelieving expression on his face, like he hadn't expected to ever see him again, like Derek is part of the hallucination. Derek wonders, with a heart-wrenching jolt, whether time passes differently here, and just how long Stiles has been trapped inside the tower.

"Yeah, Stiles. I'm here. I've got you," Derek whispers with his best attempt at a reassuring smile. He lets a hand slide down between them, threading through Stiles's fingers, and gives him a gentle tug forward. The ghost of a smile quirks at the corners of Stiles's lips as he stares down at their linked hands, allowing a small spark of hope to take residence inside his chest.

"Well, isn't this a touching scene?" A cold derisive laugh echoes through the chamber as the nogitsune appears a breath's width behind Stiles's shoulders. "But shouldn't you tell him the truth, Stiles? Shouldn't he know how much more a simple gesture like this means to you than it does to him?"

Stiles stiffens and instantly drops Derek's hand, suddenly unable to look him in the eye. The nogitsune circles around them to Derek's side, warm breath against the shell of his ear making his stomach roil.

"It's pathetic how much he loves you," the nogitsune croons in a stage whisper, and Derek's heart leaps into his throat in spite of himself. He knows it's lying, trying to get a rise out of him, trying to hit him where he knows it'll hurt most. That's what the nogitsune does, and Derek isn't going to fall for it. But then, this is Stiles's nightmare, not his, so why—

"He really thought you were going to kiss him when you reunited in that cabin. Isn't that just adorable?" the nogitsune teases, taking great pleasure in the way Stiles seems to collapse in on himself, angry red blotches blossoming beneath his pulse points. In the seconds that it takes for Stiles's curiosity to outweigh his embarrassment, their eyes meet, and what Derek finds there is enough to make his insides melt like snow in sunlight. 

He's so caught up in the moment, he almost forgets where they are, the nogitsune's mocking voice buzzing in his ear like a pestilent fly.

"Even though he knows in his sad little heart of hearts that he isn't good enough for you, that you'd spurn him faster than it took for him to fall for you," the nogitsune lilts with a theatrical sigh. "Which, by the way, was all of two seconds the moment he saw you in those woods."

"So go on, Sourwolf. Break his heart." The nogitsune tilts its head to the side, a venomous smile curling across its pale features. "I'll watch."

Stiles takes a deep, steadying breath as Derek approaches him, steeling himself for the inevitable, crushing blow, eyes fluttering closed in spite of himself as Derek reaches forward and places a hand on Stiles's cheek.

"You are, without a shadow of a doubt, the dumbest person I have ever met," Derek says, fond smile and soft, breathless chuckle at odds with the harshness of his words. "…if you think for even a second that you're not good enough for me."

A smile bright enough to rival the sun spreads across Stiles's face as he leans forward, pressing his forehead against the top of Derek's, a soft surprised little huff of laughter escaping him on a sigh of relief.

Manic glee warps into a scream of outrage as the nogitsune's divine move backfires. 

"Fine," it spits viciously, fuming with such unbridled fury that its very essence seems to burst into flames, curling around it like a cloud of smoke. "If I can't make him hurt you, then I guess I'll just have to make you hurt him."

A sliver of fear shivers through both of them as the nogitsune reanimates the dreadful scene from before, only this time, it's Derek in place of Scott, arms bound behind his back by invisible restraints, panic flooding him as he watches the nogitsune wrestle for control of Stiles's arms, hazy hues of violet and rose reflecting off the silver blade as the katana materializes in his hands. 

The look of premature grief, of resignation in his eyes, as Stiles confesses on a broken sob that he's afraid, that he doesn't think he's strong enough to fight this, pains Derek more than any stab wound ever could. A spark of defiance spears through him, spurring him to fight for Stiles while he's too consumed by guilt and fear to fight for himself. He does it in the only way he knows how, in the way the two of them have learned to show each other stubborn, unwavering affection steadily budding between them over the years. 

He argues with him. Tells him how strong, and smart, and brave he is, that he should have told him every day from the moment he met him, should have kissed him in the basement of the hunter's cabin, should have kissed him countless times before then, because he's been in love with him for years. Because he didn't come this far and outwit this many monsters only to be taken down by a villain who doesn't deserve the right to wear his face.

A triumphant smile curves across Stiles's lips, and for the first time since it stalked its way into this world, a flicker of fear flashes across the nogitsune's features. With renewed determination, Stiles breaks free of the nogitsune's hold on him, takes control of the katana, and plunges it into the nogitsune's chest, twisting the hilt until it stutters on a rattling breath, and bursts into a cloud of glittering smoke and golden fireflies.

He doesn't know which one of them moves first, but the moment the katana leaves his fingertips, he's rushing forward into Derek's open arms, cradling the curve of Derek's stubble-strewn jaw in the palms of his hands, and capturing him a kiss. Time is a fool's riddle in this strange, mystical world, but for a moment, whether real or imagined, it holds its breath just for them, an eternity existing within the span of a single kiss. Unencumbered for the first time in weeks by the desperate need to run, hide, and survive, they allow themselves to get swept up in the rhapsody of finally being together, the rest of the world falling away until it's just the two of them. 

Suns could rise and set over a blur of landscapes cycling from spring to winter in the blink of eye, the moon waxing and waning a thousand times over as it waltzes with the rising ride and sings a siren's call to all the supernatural creatures fallen under its spell; galaxies could collide and turn the world as they know it into nothing more than stardust, and yet, all they would care to know is the taste of each other's lips, the sound of each other's names whispered between dulcet confessions and promises that they'll never lose each other again.

The only thing strong enough to rip them from their reverie is the literal collapse of this world, the walls quaking with an ominous groan as they begin to crumble, the ground beneath them cracking like layers of ice melting on a lake. Hands find each other's in the encroaching darkness, and together, they make their way through the crumbling ruins of the nightmare tower, dodging falling debris and escaping through narrow passageways just seconds before they cave in. They climb steadily upward until they reach the top of the tower, where a suspended stone-wrought bridge leads the way to a door set into the opposite wall. 

Relief floods through him as Scott — the real Scott this time — pokes his head through the doorway — the portal — and calls out their names, urging them forward. The world gives another great quaking moan, and Stiles stumbles, momentarily letting go of Derek's hand. He whirls around behind him to see the bridge beginning to crumble, Derek trapped on the other side. Stiles's look of utter terror is mirrored back at him in Derek's eyes as more and more pieces of the bridge fragment and fall into the cavernous depths below. 

There isn't anything else to be done, no time to concoct a better plan. Crouching down onto his knees and establishing as strong of a foothold as he can, Stiles holds out a hand over the splintering ledge, a silent plea for Derek to take a leap of faith, to trust that Stiles will catch him. Terror and trepidation still outlined on every inch of his face, Derek steels himself for the possibility of either paradise or oblivion, holds his breath, and jumps. Warm hands close around his as he swings perilously over the ledge, suspended above the swirling darkness threatening to swallow him whole. 

For one paralyzing moment, he worries that Stiles will let go, decide he isn't worth the effort, reveal himself to be the nogitsune playing the long game and waiting for the opportune moment to seek its revenge, but then more hands join the effort — Scott, Peter, Chris — and together, they work to drag Derek up and over the ledge to safety. Cries of reunion drown in the wake of the crumbling tower as one by one, Scott, Chris, and Peter sprint through the doorway emanating a brilliant, blinding white light.

With only seconds to spare, the two of them make it through the portal before it closes and collapse onto solid ground in the Beacon Hills preserve, breathing in great greedy lungfuls of crisp, clean autumn air, wrapped tightly in each other's arms, refusing to let each other go. Upon impact, the screen of the battered old television shatters with a satisfying crack, closing the portal to that strange and terrible nightmare world for good.

[weatherman667]

I Shall Now Complain About And Fix The Racist Trench Crusade Map 

Trench Crusade adds lore, and it’s just so fucking idiotic.

Trench Crusade’s only real attraction is it’s art, which I’m not a fan of.  The artist is also completely woke.

There are two main problems with the world building:

They want to have a story about Christians fighting Hell, but also want to have respect for other cultures.

You have to see the gate to hell to become a heretic.

If you want to make a story about Hell versus Christians, it needs to be about piety.

Piety hurts demons.

Impiety strengthens demons.

They want to have the Christian idea that hell can’t just attack.  But, they say that demons cannot walk the Earth.  Except that’s literally what demons can do, they can walk the earth and tempt you to sin.

This would allow heretics to appear - everywhere.

They want heretics to control the seas, because pirates, honestly.  So, have the dark creatures from the abyss.  But, the heretics don’t have to rule that waves, because there are lots of oceans.  Pirates could literally go everywhere, whereas traders had to use better trade routes.  Which are vulnerable.

So, Britannia can still rule the waves, whereas the heretics can have literal ghost ships come up from the depths, flanked by sea serpents, krakens, and, honestly, real deep see creatures.  I mean, imagine if an angler fish, that can swallow creatures larger than itself, grew legs and walked on land?  What if a colossal squid?  Vampire squid?  I don’t even have to make things up.

Since the pope can talk straight to god, allying with the Muslims would be easy, and could be their own good faction that is different from the Christian factions.

The Golden Khanate would be incredibly easy to Christianize, as they active sought priests from all religions to the court of the Great Khan.  And if they simply prove they can talk to God, then the Great Khanate would mandate immediate conversion for the simple practical fact it helped them fight heretics.  The Great Khanate also conquered China, so China can join in.

Have Africa be a war between the Christian and Muslim populations on the coasts with the heretics in the interior, which is literally what is happening.  Most people in Africa are Christian or Muslim, at least in theory, and would absolutely love it.

They have the Aztecs fighting off the heretics, even though they are the ones that woul be most vulnerable to it.  This would turn the Americas into a war between Christians and the natives that worship false gods that require human sacrifice.

This would allow us to have European, Muslim, Mongolian, Chinese, Sub-saharan African, North and South American factions on the Good and Evil side.

You could have your cake and eat you to, if you just accepted you own premise.

Runtime:  1:54:28

[homicidal-mother]

[Monsters Walk On Land]

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Shark Merman!Kyle Garrick x F!Reader

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Warnings: MDNI, Abusive Husband {Not Kyle}, Angst, Attempted Murder

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Summary: Thrown into the depths of the ocean you expect to die... Only the be rescued by the monster many warn about.

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Your body sinks into the darkness, no attempt to open your eyes or fight back against the pull of the deep, cold and bitter as it crawls through your veins... No different than your husband, unforgiving and all consuming, taking until there is nothing but a bed of graves.

You were sick of his abuse - the condescending words - the control... You mistakenly thought it'd never get physical, so you bravely told him you were leaving... Oh, what good that did you.

'I'll tell them how ya run away from me... They'll believe me, y'know? Fuckin' whore.'

Blood leaks from your cut up legs, drifting into the darkness, like bait you lure anything closer. He had dragged you to the rocky coast line, your begging and screaming had fallen on deaf ears, tossed over and discarded like mere trash. Something to be forgotten because it no longer was useful.

Something brushes against your leg but you don't have the will to fight it... You can't swim. You always feared the water. There's no point in trying to fight.

×🩷×

Kyle drifts through the water - big brown eyes searching for the scent of blood he picked up on... Webbed hands immediately grasp onto the floating body of a woman without much thought at first, then he processes it.

"The hell...?"

For a moment he thinks she's dead - given the fact she didn't instantly start kicking and flailing... And if she was already dead then a bite wouldn't hurt right- but no... There's certainly a pulse. Soft but there.

He couldn't just kill an innocent woman like this, could he? Even as a shark style monster in the deep, he still has that heart of gold under the surface. So, he drags her towards the dim light of the moon above, moving her to the shore...

It concerns him... The fact she didn't fight... It made it easier to save her but - why didn't she fight?

"C'mon now..."

Settling her against the sand he assists her, watching her cough and sputter, small rocks digging into her skin.

"Who did this to you...?"

He didn't much expect an answer to the question, especially not when she finally got a good look at her savior... He suspected the usual fearful screams would tear through the air - that was how it'd usually go anyway.

×🩷×

You certainly were a bit startled to look over and see the very thing many warn of. People often claimed a monster lurked the waters by this shore but... He saved you...? He could've easily chewed the meat off your bones, especially with those freakishly sharp shark-like teeth of his...

He's honestly kind of beautiful, unique patterns of dark spots and strips across the gray scales on his lower half, his tail built exactly how a shark would be - aside from the whole scaliness of it.

"Thank you..."

You sputter out the words and those big brown eyes of his widen, lifting himself up a bit while he looks at you... He's definitely stunned from what you can tell by his expression, his slightly pointed ears twitching.

"You're not scared of me?"

"Well, I am a little bit but... If you wanted to hurt me - you would have."

A soft chuckle emits from his chest, amusement bubbling and spilling over. You're a very strange human in his books but he likes you...

However, it nags in the back of his head as to what happened to you. How you ended up injured in the water to begin with - the look on your face and your body language... It all reeks of humans doing.

After all - those who walk on land are often much more frightening monsters than the creatures of the deep ever could be...

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{I'm fuckin' exhausted so it took forever to write this and it's shit. And yeah it has a cliffhanger ending - I gave up. I didn't know where to go from there. I probably won't make a part 2 because I'm losing mind.}

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{@sofasoap @soupbinsoup @sarraa-26 @gothgirl6-6-6 @caramlizedtomatoes-deactivated2 }

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{More Content}

[justfangirlstuffs]

A Light in the Dark

Part 2 featuring @scarredlove's Sea Slug AU boys. :3c

Part 1 can be found here. Wordcount: 2105

The entity kissing you tasted strongly of salt, and strangely enough something sweet, like sun-kissed citrus. Your head was spinning, and you felt dizzy. You were sinking further and further, your body as languid as though you were slipping into a steamy hot bath. But then you felt a pressure against your mouth, a wet warmth trying to slip past your lips.

Face hotter than sand on a midsummer's day, you tore your mouth away, your senses coming back in a snap as sharp and painful as a rubber band. “L-Let go,” you stammered, you words a tangled mess of fluster and nervousness.

The ocean waters still lapped around you, and a very real fear of being dragged into those depths reared up like an ugly sea monster. A fear of disappearing as easily as your pill bottle had, never to be seen again.

The entity blinked its bright pale eyes. “Let you go?” The question was followed by a simpering laugh. “Now why would I do that, when I only just found you?”

You attempted to wriggle free, but the hands that held you were surprisingly strong. Your heart fluttered in your chest as a bite of panic began to set in. “Please... let go!” Your hands pushed against their chest, brushing the red markings that seemed to pulse beneath your fingers.

The entity recoiled immediately with a soft, breathy hiss, arms curling in as they looked down to where you touched. “What a mess!” They began brushing at the granules your sand covered fingers had left behind.

Seizing the opportunity, you scrambled up to you feet and fled, kicking up sand in your haste to get away. You heard them calling for you to wait, and you wanted to listen. You felt a pull, a need to go back, but you vehemently ignored it and continued to charge up the shore. You didn't stop running until you were back at your aunt's house. You sat on the porch, heaving and sweating, nursing the stitch in your chest. Your skin was chilled from the cool even air and every bit of you was crusted over with dried salt water and sand. You were an absolute and utter wreck physically and mentally.

What was that? What the hell was that? None of that had felt grounded in reality, and yet you could still feel the gentle feel of those hands on your skin, and the press of that sea creature's mouth on yours. Your skin once more flushed at he memory and you groaned, burying your face in your shaking hands. Your chest was tight, and your breathing was sharp and painful. You needed a shower, and some time alone in the dark.

Trying and failing not you leave a trail of sand in your wake, you went to the room that had been deemed your living space, shucking off your sandy clothes in the bathroom and showering of. The spray of warm water helped to calm you down, if only barely. Putting on a fresh set of clothes, you located your spare bottle of meds and took your scheduled dosage. Then you grabbed your noise canceling headphones, turned on your favorite ASMR sounds, and laid down on the rug to stare up at the water-spotted ceiling. Something about laying on the floor or the ground had a way of bringing your thoughts into focus.

Focusing on your breathing, on the rise and fall of your chest, you slowly felt the tides of your panic attack receding. The vibration of footfalls jerked you out of your trance and you looked up to see your aunt staring down at you with a look that could only be described as silent judgment. You freed up one of your ears.

“Dinner,” she announced.

“I'm not hungry,” you answered, your stomach tightening at the thought of having to force down food.

She shrugged. “I'll put it in the fridge then.” Then she exited your room. Simple as that.

It wasn't until hours later, as you were getting ready for bed did you realize in dismay that you'd forgotten your bag on the beach. Another groan of frustration left you. You couldn't just leave it out there. It held your camera and a few other treasures in it that either couldn't be replaced or you didn't have the money to buy. The nagging thought that you still hadn't found a job and were essentially freeloading weighed down on you.

Pulling on your shoes and jacket, packing a flashlight, you snuck out of the house and into the night. The moon was in its waning phase, but it was still bright and lovely, helping to illuminate the way as you made your way down to the beach. The stars twinkled merrily overhead as the ocean glittered under the night sky. The ocean waves continued their soft, roaring chorus as a light breeze ruffled your hair and clothes.

Navigating the shoreline, you swept the beam of your flashlight over the area you believed you had left your bag. It was nowhere in sight. Disappointment settled cold and heavy in your gut and you wondered if it too had been claimed by the sea and way halfway to another country.

“Give me a break already!” you shouted in frustration. You kicked petulantly at the sand.

Just as you were about to give up and head back, something caught your eye. A ways down the shore, towards the sea wall, you saw a glimmer of strange light. Winking at you through the darkness. It took you a few moments to recognize the morse code: S-O-S. Was someone in trouble?

Abandoning your search, you headed further down the beach towards the light. It was a little nerve wracking as it required you to walk through waves lapping against the rock wall. You didn't want to be stuck there when the tide came in. As you hugged the rock wall, you came to the opening of one of the sea caves that was a ways off from the beaches.

Your eyes caught another flicker of light coming from inside. “Hello?” you called out, voice echoing. “Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

No answer, just more flickers of light. Where were those coming from? Breathing through the pounding of your heart, you entered the cave, your flashlight shining over the glistening walls coating in algae and other various forms of life. You carefully stepped over the slick rocks, trying not to slip into the water that pooled into the cave, making its own miniature lake.

As you searched around, your flashlight caught sight on something and you gasped. Your backpack. It was drifting in the water. You wonder if it had gotten washed in here by the tide. What luck! You weren't too worried about the content inside. Anything that could be damaged by water you kept bagged up in plastic. You'd lost too many electronics to water to not have a fail safe prepared.

Setting your flashlight down onto the cave floor, you got down on your knees and reached for your bag. It was so close. Almost there... your fingers were just brushing the fabric... Got it!

As soon as you grabbed a hold of it, something gave a powerful tug from the other end, and you tumbled headfirst into the water with a scream. Just as you had feared, it was deep, and you momentarily lost direction of which way was up and what was down.

As you thrashed beneath the water, you felt hands grabbing you. For a few terrifying seconds you thought they would pull you farther down, away from light and oxygen into a dark watery grave. Instead, you felt yourself being lifted and your head broke the surface. You gasped, coughing and sputtering through the sharp taste of brine. Something brushed your hair out of your face, and you found yourself being cradled against a slick body.

A low voice purred in your ear, echoing all around you. “I caught you, my little sea star.”

As your vision cleared, you found a set of large, gleaming red eyes gazing down at you. Like the entity you'd met before, it was swathed in colorful flowing robes, only this creature wore a hood that shadowed their face, and they wore robes of deep blue accentuated with bright, gleaming yellow. A pair of appendages sprouted from their head, and they twitched a wriggled of their own accord.

Once again, you found yourself struck dumb at the sight of this creature that was so incredibly alien, yet so remarkably beautiful. Never mind the fact that, in a distant part of your brain, you had a sneaking suspicion that this creature is what lured you into this cave.

“Wh-what... wh-who are you?” you stuttered, while simultaneously trying to figure out how you were going to get free this time.

The head titled, eyes blinking down at you. “You don't recognize us.”

“Us?”

“You met my brother earlier today,” they answered.

“Oh...” So... that hadn't been a fever dream your mind cooked up then. Or maybe you were still dreaming.

“It hurts, you know.” The head leaned down, and you shivered as the face nuzzled into your neck. “We remember you.”

“S-sorry,” you mumbled. “I don't... ah!”

A sizzling of sensation sparked along the nerves of your neck as you felt teeth and something warm brush and nip over your skin.

“Yeah... it's definitely you,” that low voice rumbled sweetly, dripping into your ears like dark honey. “I'd know that taste anywhere. Better than I remember.” You tried pushing against them like you had the other one, but they only chuckled, apparently enjoying your touch. “Don't be shy.” They took one of your hands a pressed it to their chest. “You can touch me wherever you'd like.”

Okay... new tactic then. From the corner of your vision, you caught sight of your flashlight nearby. You looked the creature dead in the eye and leaned up until your faces were inches apart. Their eyes widened before their expression turned to sheer delight. “My sea star...”

As their eyes slid closed and they leaned in, you shifted your body and lunged, fingers closing over the metal of your flashlight. The creatures eyes popped open just in time for you to shine the flashlight beam in their face. With a startled hiss they dropped you and you splashed down into the water, only this time you were prepared. Snatching your bag, you scrambled out of the water, shining your light back only to find the entity had disappeared. You stood there, alone, panting, dripping wet and shivering.

You didn't want to stay, but you were terrified to leave, as doing so would put you back into the water. Back where the sea creature could easily snatch you up again. You don't know what they wanted from you, but every story you'd heard about sea monsters and humans never ended well for the human in question. As much as you wanted to write this off as some crazy dream, you were scared. So scared that tears were already starting to leak and your chest was heaving with restrained sobs.

Retreating back into the farthest and highest corner of the cave, where you would be safe from the incoming tide, you held your flashlight aloft, in case the creature decided to make a reappearance. You curled up, cold and shivering. You thought about calling for help, only to realize you had left your phone in your haste to come out here. You were stuck until morning, it seemed.

Digging through your bag, you found that the items you had bagged up were still safe and secure, untouched by the seawater that soaked the fabric of your pack. Much to your surprise, you found something else... a bottle of meds. The same bottle you had lost to the ocean waves just hours ago. But how...?

Your eyes fell turn the dark churning waters, and suddenly you felt bad, as well as a tugging desire to go back to the water. Back to them. You pushed back against the feeling, not daring to leave your nook of security. Though, every now and then, as you sat there shivering, you thought you saw the glimmering of golden lights flicker in the waters and bounce of the walls of the cave in a strange and mesmerizing dance. Watching the lights helped to relax you and take your mind off the miserable situation. Though you tried to fight it, your eyelids grew heavier... and heavier...

[mugman64]

Semi-Aquatic Percy Jackson Headcanons

(A lot of these will be random Atlantean culture ideas I made up)

Markings

If you were to ever see Percy shirtless you would see what he wants you to see, the mist is a powerful tool, especially for covering obvious marks. But if you are one of the few to see him without you would see identical columns of burn marks going from his collar bones down to his waist, each small and precise. In Atlantis warriors mark themselves with each battle won, each powerful enemy slain. Percy choose to brand himself with his victories, so that every time he looks at them and remembers the victory he remembers the pain and suffering wrought with it. Percy is a war veteran, and he’ll be damned if he ever lets himself or others romanticize the killing of war and the death of his companions.

Hair

Atlanteans put either a braid or loc in their hair for each year they are alive. The royal family never has, for in their immortality they would run out of space. Percy has never viewed himself as a prince, and he sure as hell isn’t immortal. He had 16 of them when he decided Olympus's fate, and 17 when he walked through the depths of Tartarus. And ever since he got them he’s had his camp beads decorated on them.

Strength

After his third quest Percy became obsessed with getting stronger to mitigate future deaths. It got to the point where he let himself submerge to the bottom of the sea, to the deepest trench, and let himself slowly get crushed by the pressure of the ocean. Pushed into the mud until he grew the strength to stand up, and then he’d let more weight fall onto him. Eventually he was able to stand with the weight of the entire ocean on him. It took him a week of ripping doors off hinges and breaking something with a touch before he got control over his new found strength.

Monster (Inspired by Witch_of_History’s Series)

Poseidon was renown as the Father of Monsters. All his children have the potential to live up to that title, his godly spawn where born with it, sharp teeth, razor claws, and tough scales. It came with being his immortal child, you were born touched by all his domains. But demigod children only gain access to their parents domains as they age or as they need them, and his half mortal children had never been monstrous. But as with all things mythological Percy pushed the envelope. His time in the deepest depths of the sea caused his body to adapt to his environment, the royal family was mostly homogenous with their monstrous traits. Percy was always an outlier to them though, when he finally ascended from the depths he had adapted beyond human. Increased senses of smell, sight, hearing. Able to sense nearby creatures bio-electric signals, capable of echo-location, can see infrared, magneto-reception. His monstrous form is a blue scaled, razor clawed,bi-pedal apex predator of the deep. A scaled merrow-esque person with an extra rows of shark teeth behind their human teeth. Annabeth and Grover have never been more enamored with a demigods powers before, and the Hunters have never had a better hunting companion. Much to Artemis’ chagrin and Thalia’s delight.

Favors

Strong warrior or kings in Atlantis keep rings of their enemies and allies. On one hand will be rings made from the bones or weapons of enemies defeated, on the other are gifts or symbols fealty of debt’s owed to the wearer. Percy has no lack of rings. Titans, Giants, and ancient monsters leave many spoils for souvenirs. It’s his other hand that draws interest however, he liberated Thanatos, spared Hades after defeating him, assisted Persephone in retrieving her illegally made sword. None of these things came free, other demigods typically are sent off with recognition and little else. But Percy is a hardened veteran of undersea battles, defeating creatures older than Olympus and fighting against Oceanus prior to the Battle of Manhattan. They had no choice but to give him tribute for his actions. Hades and Persephone groaned about it, Thanatos gladly gave it up, and yet having a box filled with rings of allyship, fealty, and loyalty he’s never used them. But what people always forget is that Percy and Annabeth are a pair, whatever one has the other does as well. Best believe it, Annabeth has many plans that could use some godly touch.

[bloodmoon24]

The Story of the Hell Tribes

Once upon a time, high within the clouds and behind beautiful, golden gates, lies a place known as Heaven. Populated by the beings of pure light that are known as angels. They are responsible to keep peace of their home and all of Earth and shielded all evil away. There is one Angel, named Lucifer Morningstar, who loves to dream and create new and exciting things for Earth to enjoy. To bring free will to humans and let them be with their own lives and happiness. But the elders says that his way of thinking is dangerous and should not be allowed to what Heaven organized for Earth, so he watched from the sidelines as he felt ignored and unimportant

Noticing this, six other beings saw his troubles and went over to comfort him. These beings were Satan, Beelzebub, Mammon, Asmodeus, Leviathan, and Belphagor. These six beings were inspired by his ideas, and they’ve been very supportive of his dreams for Earth. They were so enthralled of his ideas that they would help make his ideas come to light

From the dust of the Earth, two humans were created: Adam and Lilith. The first ever mankind to walk the surface of the Garden of Eden. Adam always craved and demanded for power and control, but Lilith wants to be her own person who doesn’t want to accept his submission, so she fled the garden. Lucifer was so drawn by her rebellious spirit, he went and found her and they laid eyes on each other, the two fell deeply in love. So they both worked together to bring the gift of free will to the rest of humanity. Back within the Garden of Eden, Lucifer and Lilith found Adam’s new wife, Eve, and gifted her the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge and she gladly accepted

But with this gift, it came with a curse. With this single act of disobedience, a new evil found its way into Earth, created a dark pit of darkness and sin. Everything Heaven worked for was shattered. As of punishment for their reckless behavior, Heaven casted Lucifer, his love, and the six beings that supported him into the depths of the darkness that he created. When they fell, they have seen the new world of what Lucifer had created; a land filled with cruel and wicked creatures and wildlife. A place that is now called…Hell. At first, Lucifer thought they wouldn’t survive a day here, but when push comes to shove, him and the six beings managed to rule all over the land and every single creature obeyed their every command

So, one by one, the seven beings each ruled the seven parts of Hell, making their own kingdoms and their own people to rule over. And these kingdoms are named after what are known as the Seven Deadly Sins. Belphagor rules over the floating islands of Sloth, where the Baphomets can do drugs and feel like their worries melt away without a care. Leviathan rules over the depths of the Envy Oceans, where sea demons can be jealous about anyone else as the feel the bitterness of it. Asmodeus rules over the Lust Rainforest, a place where Succubi and Incubi can feel lustful desires without force and still being able to feel the love for their partners. Mammon rules over the Greed Outback, a place where Loan Sharks have selfish desires for wealth, power, or food. Beelzebub rules over the Gluttony Jungle, a place where Hellhounds can enjoy and have an endless satisfaction of food. Satan rules the hot and dry Wrath Desert where Imp demons can let out their bloodthirsty rage and kill to all those that angered them. As for Lucifer, he and Lilith rule over the Pride Forest, a place where Earth born humans go after death when they experienced damn nation of the Deadly Sins they’ve created

And from that moment on, the Seven Deadly Sins ruled all over Hell, their territories, and their people. The population of the Six Territories can travel through the other regions at will, but the Sinners of the Pride Forest are restricted, to never leave unless they have been given permission to from the King of all of Hell himself. After everything Lucifer been through, he still felt very bad after what he has done in Heaven, but he, Lilith, and the rest of the Sins all thrived of their lives. Lilith even starts to singing songs to help encourage all of demon-kind and all of Hell with her voice and music

Seeing this from above, Heaven saw this as a threat and from that, they made a horrible decision. At the end of every year, they would send down an army of Angel soldiers and kill any demon in sight. Making sure Hell and its Demons wouldn’t be able to rise against Heaven and their Angels. But from this, Lucifer and Lilith raised their first ever child; Charlie Morningstar, the Princess of Hell. She has dream to help all Sinners to be a better person and make their way up to Heaven. She sees the good in Demons of Hell and will not stop until those damned souls go to Heaven, so she made a choice to make the Hazbin Plains. A small paradise in the Pride Forest where Sinners can learn and grow to be better and to heal their souls from the evil and sin they have committed when they were alive. Will she succeed into helping all souls in Hell and show Heaven that Sinners can be redeemed and can be given a second chance? We will soon find out and see

[orrianreaper]

GW2 people - Pitch me YOUR idea for an Expansion!

What's the theme, where are we going, what lore threads are we picking up on, what's the story premise, what mechanics do you think it could have.

I love spitballing ideas when I'm talking with friends so I'm posing the question To Everyone because I know everyone has some pet concepts floating around. As self-indulgent as you'd like, as unrealistic as you like, just throw ideas around, I wanna hear them!

The One I think I have the most rounded ideas for would be an Underwater Expansion. Picking up on the threat of whatever is terrorising the deep oceans, having some exploration of the Largos and bringing back in the Quaggan and the Krait maybe!

I love the sort of depths we get in maps like Frostgorge sound, and underwater combat has badly needed a rework and a tune up - there's loads of skills which straight up don't work and break entire builds underwater, and this would be a perfect excuse to try bring it up to speed. Maybe even make the underwater weapon sets function on land, to satisfy those who're after more weapons. You could make the maps a mix of true underwater and perhaps giant air bubble caves so you still had some land exploration even in maps otherwise set deep under the ocean. A map meta split with land phases and water phases. Additionally as personal bias wish, I'd love map event/meta design more like HoT. A map-wide Story with a few chains with specifically Build into the actual true Meta. I also simply love the idea of having a bunch of enemy designs based of the ocean and the abyss, there's so much incredible inspiration and interesting marine life. and biomes too! Give me a hydrothermal vent section in one of the maps, hell underwater 'water' in the form of brine pool 'quicksand'.

The Turtle might get some more use out of it's underwater, and skimmer would absolutely get spotlight as a skyscale isn't going to get you too far here - hell maybe even some speedy new underwater mount could be a fun addition to the roster.

I can see a plot being around trying to work with the Largos, The 'Terror of the Deep' being a danger and learning from them about how to survive the hostile environment and also convince them work with you to Hunt the 'Terror'. Maybe you come to the area of the ocean with the Quaggans and it's convincing the Largos to take them seriously as allies against whatever you're fighting? A quaggan companion character would be really fun, and you could easily bring back Sayeh al' Rajihd from the personal story given Largos involvement. I think not only would it be something very different in terms of the maps, which granted quite a few people might not like (thalassophobia reasons, or general Dislike of Water Gameplay reasons), but I think a rework of the underwater mechanics would benefit a bunch of places and it's something that really doesn't get touched outside of base game and maybe like, the Leviathans in EoD. There's so much neat creature design inspiriation swimming around out there, and I know so many people love the largos and even if not playable getting to see more of them could be neat! Also - it'd finally make all those legendary full people happy. A Legendary Aquabreather :P.

And a new suite of legendary underwater weapons since the G1 set. (and not themed pretty please make them all Unique.)