#Purest Sky and Sea

[touhou-music-twice-a-week]

Title: The Haunting Serenity of Cold Space

Vocals: AirahTea

Arrangement: BobNL

Album: suite ad astra

Circle: 11th hour

Original Theme: The Purest Sky and Sea

[worstgenerationloser]

just a random thought but like sanji x reader on their wedding night🤭 I'll leave the creative writing to u

,, My Person. ''

Pairing... Sanji x GN! Reader

Summary... after a day full of festivities with your now husband Sanji, you two share your bed for the first time as a married couple.

Contains... wedding vows, fluff and slight nsfw, soft romantic moments, sanji shenanigans, undressing eachother to shower, kissing, and sanji freaking out over you.

A/N: he's such a cutie, i loved writing this! Happy birthday to this handsome man 💞

Casting a cool blue hue over the two of you, the moon congratulates you with the widest smile… Is what Sanji says, anyways. He hasn't been talking much since you two got back, and he seems a bit stiff, you think it's just him trying to keep all his blood in his nose. Sanji always had rushed to your side in the most dire moments, and he knew for a fact he would marry you eventually. He just can't believe it's actually happened— you looked so gorgeous in your wedding attire, he loved the adoring looks the crew gave you when he first announced your engagement together, how they all congratulated him and the fact that his eyes were stuck on none other than you every step of the way.

A breath of fresh air, what with everything he has had to endure. Sanji knows his love for you takes over his entire body and soul, he says his love for you is his entire reason for being— maybe you are a blessing bestowed upon him from the grand creator of this world? He says silly things like that so often, but he makes sure you know it. In the softly colored bedroom of the lodging you have chosen, there's a wondrous balcony onlooking the sea— which seems to have presented the purest blue coloring for your perfect day; everything seemed so grand, not in the sense that it's making up for a lack of sincerity in your union, but for representation of the grandest union of two lively souls.

The beauty of the balcony, venue, and sea weren't nearly as beautiful as Sanji. A face painted of pure joy and adoration with each glance he shot your way, but you noticed his fraying nerves when he grabbed your hand to place the ring onto your finger. His hands were so shaky, and silent tears cascaded down his flushed cheeks while his pure smile beamed straight to cast away any lingering shadows. His vows were so clear, though he was struggling not to cry anymore, how dare he taint the memory of your wedding in such a way? Tears borne from love didn't count if it was from you, but he hated crying in front of you.

“My most cherished lover, I will accept you in your entirety. Things will never be left unsaid, for my heart will speak aloud to you forevermore, not once will I forget myself for as long as I am bound to you; which will be as long as my heart, mind, and body will be left on this lovely earth. Even then, I must promise that our souls will never travel apart, because on this day, we are informing the sea, the sky, the stars, and the entirety of the universe that together we are. Smitten as I am with you, I will never overlook your character. Not only are you my love; you are a part of my life in every possible way. My companion in all things romance, my crew, my heart… I solemnly swear, most of all, that I will be proudly at your side, no matter what turbulence occurs in our long lives shared together.”

Franky was trying his best not to cry, meanwhile Brook was shaking in his seat, holding back jokes for the tender moment. Such sincere smiles gathered from your friends and those who have aided you along the way, but Sanji and you kept your gazes locked onto each other. It was like you could see the beat of his heart, and he could see the vows ready to be spoken in yours.

Being pirates, you can't have your marriage recognized by the government, but who needs those bastards to know you're in love anyways? Franky is ready to loudly announce it to anyone who looks at you or Sanji’s way, why do pirates care about what the government thinks? If two can love, then they can keep their passion private, or they may be free to soar it across the skies as they please. Sanji would proudly announce it to his fiercest enemies faces, you’re sure.

Sanji is still nervous. His heart is racing like he's supposed to rehearse a play all by himself whilst playing every single role there is— but he's just sitting next to you in bed. His blue eyes flicker over your features to commit them to his memory once again as if he hasn't memorized every mark and every dip and curve on your body, he needs to do something to stop such intense longing for what is already in his grasp. His hands, shaky yet warmer than ever, reach out to touch you; but Sanji balls his hand into a fist, bringing his knuckles to his mouth to sink his teeth into. Though he's next to you in bed, he feels like he's thousands of years away.

You're both still dressed in your clothes from the reception, matching the beautiful colors which soared across the ceilings at your venue. You should have been changed a bit ago, but you can't brush off the fact that Sanji is acting odd, when you see him nervously bite around his knuckle, you smile softly and begin to speak.

“Sanji, calm down…” Your own hand reaches out, tracing the back of his palm and easing his teeth away from his knuckles. Though his hand is loose from the clench of his jaw, his soft pink lips remain parted, and he looks like a lost puppy for a second. Well, it isn't all that different from the way he is when you're separated for longer than an hour or two. But besides when you were getting ready, he was there every step of the way. “It's improper of me to abandon my love on this important day.” Was his newest excuse for standing outside the door when you went to the bathroom.

“Oh… I apologize for… My distant mind. I swear I only think thoughts of us.” You watch him catch his bottom lip between his teeth, his posture loosening only ever so slightly.

“That's okay. Think whatever you want to, Sanji. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon…” Murmuring, you begin to pick up a soft smile as you move a little closer to where he is sitting atop the bed, your weights recognized as one on the firm mattress. Hands finding their way to his collar, they start to unbutton his dress shirt, your actions aren't entirely sexual in nature, surely many couples do that, but you would prefer to put his nerves back into the right places before Sanji starts to malfunction.

“Would a warm shower help? Or would you prefer a bath?” You watch as your proposal; In real time, allows a spark to return to Sanji’s eyes, but then you think maybe you moved too quickly when his eyes widen and his lips quiver as he looks you up and down.

“B-Bath… With… With- With you?”

Ah, your first mistake on your wedding night. Well, it's entirely your fault but it's comforting seeing him go back to his usual self. And again, he catches himself and prevents another nosebleed.

“Gah! No! My apologies, my dear, I… I meant to ask if you would like to bathe together… As a married couple. It's a common thing with modern couples, you see—” After his loud gasp, he begins to stammer and then pause when his brain processes his own words. Does he think he sounds creepy? His perverted nature has seemed sweet in nature to you as of lately, so maybe he's realized himself for once.

“M…Ma—... Married...”

Stiffer than a stone statue, Sanji’s body freezes entirely. It took longer than you feel comfortable admitting to just to get Sanji back to earth, while his shirt still remained halfway undone. How can you get him naked with his… eccentric personality, then? Do you bribe him like a dog chasing after a bone? Distract him? Ah, you should just drag him along with you before he gets on all fours or something. It's endearing sometimes you swear, but you're not sure how much everyone else believes that.

“Apologies. I can't fathom that I am with you… Ah, no— I can't believe we are married. Oh, I feel like a fool.”

Cupping his face in his hands and wallowing in utter despair at his slippery speech, he fails to realize that you are dragging him along with you in the direction of the bathroom door. When he removes his hands, he's greeted by the feeling of his belt being undone, making him pause. Not again, Sanji… And with gritted teeth, he masks himself, but his eyes twitch and his nostrils flare repeatedly, it's not like he's never been nude around you, he feels like it's even more significant considering you are officially forever.

When his pants drop, he politely steps out of them, kicking them to the side as his hands reach out for you to return the favor. It's been done before, he can do it again, but his hands hesitated as he awaited a confirmation.

“Yes, you may undress me.” Your voice is clearer inside the bathroom.

Breathing a sigh of relief, his hands start to reach for the fabric of your clothing, sliding it down your shoulders, the pads of his fingers slipping down each inch of skin newly exposed. It didn't feel as lewd as it was, standing half naked together. There weren't any shy giggles, no heavy panting, no hands dancing across each other's skin for any reason other than to shed clothing. It could take a turn once you two reach the shower, maybe you two would end up in a tangle of passionate limbs, but Sanji would prefer to love you somewhere more comfortable.

He respects you. Though he's dense at times, though he can be perverse and pathetic, it's all out of the love he has for you. He's vulnerable with you more than he ever knew, he sheds his skin and presents his back to you, he's not afraid to be less of a man if he cries near you. He doesn't worry you with tears of any sort, but at times he feels so lucky that his life has taken such a positive turn and allowed him to find people who love and care for him the same way his mother did. Would she be proud her boy found his true love?

Opening his heart, he lets you feel him. He lets you hold his hands, he lets you in the kitchen though he hates being disturbed— before you were his love, you were always the one for him. Not once did he view you as pure romance, you were a person, and you were his person.

Pss... you... you should comment and reblog👀

[sorcerous-caress]

Type of romantic gifts they'd give you

[Bg3, fluff, nb!reader]

[Wyll, Karlach, Gale, Shadowheart, Astarion, Laezel, Halsin, Minthara, Karniss]

Wyll

Flowers. Each bouquet conveys a different meaning and tells a hundred tales about his feelings for you. From the petal colours to the delicate ribbon holding the stems together, not a single detail was overlooked.

Enteries to both worlds. Invites to the most eloquent galas reserved for the noble class, elegent clothes and glittering jewellery. And warm heartfelt welcomes into the most popular tavrens for adventurers, even the dangerous ones greet you and Wyll with cold drinks and a warm meal.

A shoulder to lean on, someone to be your own hero. The royalty treatment becomes the norm for you, a quiet dance in your shared home, swaying slowly as the rain scatters against the windows outside.

.

Karlach

Cheesy handmade coupons for hugs. Physical affection is a big part of the way she shows love, yet no hugs feel better than the ones she knows both of you want, rather than only her. These hand drawn coupons are to give her reassurance in a way that you also crave her embrace as much as she does.

Taking you out to her favourite spots. Introducing you to all her past and current friends. Absolutely involving you in every aspect of her inner circles and slowly integrating you into her world. She wants all the people that she loves to know each other, to be there, and to support each other. Friends, family, and neighbours, she craves a community.

Carrying your stuff. Be it your bags, equipment, or anything. She enjoys being strong for you, never letting you lift a heavy thing ever. Giving you her jacket if you get cold, even switching your shoes if yours are uncomfortable. Dress however you want, she knows how to fight after all.

.

Gale

Homecooked meals. Frozen soup in food containers. You'll never go hungry with him around. Love is a major ingredient in each dish he makes, recipes passed down from generations. Restaurants' food becomes dull in comparison. No bakery dessert can compare to his home baked pie.

A picnic near the sea side. It's windy, the air is refreshing and nice. Waves come crashing gently, almost brushing against your feet before retreating back. Tara purrs in your lap, her wings warming your hand underneath it as you scratch her fur. Gale is by your side, telling you about a new discovery he made in his research. Content in staying by your side despite the crown laying at the bottom of the ocean in front of you.

Constellations seeming brighter, the sky looks as if it held twice as many stars than usual. There's a sparkle in his eyes, wrinkles at their edges from his smile.

.

Shadowheart

Wine/non-alcoholic drinks and sweets. She has a taste for delicacies and sharing them with you. Whatever she picks, it's always somehow very rich in flavour, melts against the tongue, and the aftertaste is an experience by itself.

Takes you to her home, visiting her parents who welcomed you as if you were another child of theirs. For the first time in her life, she has a family, and she wants to include you in it. You are a part of it, after all. A part of her.

Nursing your sickness away, sticking with you through thick and thin. Even at your most ill of states. She doesn't pat an eye at you throwing up, sneezing, or not having the energy to shower. She helps you through it. She never judges you over it, unconditional love in its purest forms as she ensures your recovery.

.

Astarion

Precious poetry he wrote himself. As much as he scoffs over anything too chessy, he can't help using his mother tongue and spinning endless lines about you in elvish in his private journal. On the rare occasion, giving you a glimpse through it. Pretending to leave his journal open by pure coincidence in front of you, on the exact page of the peom with your name on it.

The both of you traverse the underdark. He takes you to a special spot he found under a sussur tree. The blue glow of the silver branches lights up the edges of his hair like a halo, and your eyelids feel heavy with your head on his lap.

Stiching the holes in your clothes. Maintaining them in his free time and making sure they are cared for. Each piece that might hold a sentimental value to you or a precious memory receives special treatment from him. Sometimes, he stiches a joke or two into your undergarments that you don't realise until much later on.

.

Laezel

Gifts you a sharp and expertly smithed sword. Silver in colour with various ruby red stones decorating the handle, it feels at home in your grip, specifically made for your hands.

Takes you as her guide through Faerun, let's you introduce her to the places you love, the things you like. You can tell her interest is genuine, he curiosity is evident as she tries everything you recommend to her.

Reads to you, each night she'd indulge your curiosities and read one of the many githyanki literature disks you've accumulated. Her voice never tires, she pronounces each word with care and emotion. It's beyond soothing, even her comments inbetween narrating the story never fail to make you smile.

.

Halsin

Blessings of nature extend to you as well. The birds don't fly away when you approach, the tree branches don't get caught in your clothes, and the bugs take a polite detour around you as they crawl. He shares the love he received with you.

You've never seen so many children rush to you before, look up to you with respect, and search for guidance. He grants you the opportunity to raise the ones who will hold the torch after us, to imped your wisdom upon them, and help shape a better future.

Never growing cold again, buried deep against his soft fur as gaint bear paws hold you so softly. Despite the pouring snow outside, you sink deeper into his warm embrace. Cute round ears flicker in the corner of your vision, and you can't help but rub them alongside his soft belly.

.

Minthara

jewellery, each one is unique and more expensive than the last. Various earrings with pearls and necklaces with glittering diamonds. Even a special one that hugs your neck deliciously, with her name on it. Body accessories hugging your curves and wrapping around you. A pair of matching rings.

Takes you into her heart, behind the iron walls, behind the mazes of ice. Shows you her tender beating vulnerable flesh, the small kindness she protected so fiercely and hid from the world. Her true love, yours for the taking and yours alone.

The disembodied heads of your enemies in a gift box wrapped for you, everyone who has ever wronged you has their skulls displayed on the shelves. She becomes your blade, your sword and shield.

.

Karniss

Prayers. Offers them to you as he kneels, talking in a hushed tone as he begs a greater being for your safety, for your heart, and for you love. For their blessings upon him to shield you from the darkness, his split mind making him seeth in anger and hatred at all those who dared hurt or question you.

Brings you to his nest, a small cave with tight webs shielding the entrance. He teaches you how to slip through them, holds you close as he lifts you in his arms and makes passage inside. You're a very welcome addition to his home, his sanctuary.

Gifts you his venom regularly. Whether it's a kiss as his fangs slip past your soft lips and bleed venom down your throat, or a bite into the soft flesh of your neck that injects it directly into your veins. He builds up your resistance slowly so he may protect you from himself and anyone who tries to steal your life away.

[priestessame]

❁ From the depths of your very soul, I seek the purest devotion ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

🦋Rafayel x Princess! Reader🦋

❁ IIतबाही पक्की है आग तू मैं पानी II ❁

. ❁ AFAB fem reader, fem pronouns ❁ Minors DNI .

Warnings: Sub/switch Rafayel, dom reader, Oral (receiving), teasing, overstimulation, praise, dirty talk, riding, Food play? very bad things done to a grape, penetrative sex, Master x captive play?????? Idk I have gone mad after the memory.  

Malini held the perfume pot under your damp hair, humming her strange tune as the rich fumes curled around your chamber. Her fingers slid through your hair carefully, making you feel drowsier than ever.  

It was well past evening and the orange sky had started to bleed through your percolated windows. Your laziness was nothing short of audacious, if you had any care for discipline, you would have been hurrying to get ready for the rituals in the castle. But right now you couldn't be bothered to even drape your robes correctly.

You could practically see how the high priest would be pacing in the prayer hall, fists clenched with frustration, quivering lips murmuring on how the heir had no regard for tradition. 

You weren't supposed to keep the Gods waiting today. 

Gods, you scoffed under your breath, surely they were too sleepy themselves to be bothered with all of this. 

Nushkat tried her best to get some reaction from you, her bangles jingling as she comically imitated the high priest, sending another one of your handmaidens giggling as they set down your jewellery. The jewels glimmered in every shade under the sun, carved ivory and polished gold. But nothing appealed to you today. 

It was difficult to get the princess excited about something. Not the gold nor the small army of handmaidens you couldn't bother to remember the names of, not even the glorious festival waiting for you outside.

If the princess, the Noor of the empire was bored. She was simply bored.

"Your Highness." One of your handmaidens tried, "The moon will be visible soon."

You could hear the scare in her voice, eyes pleading with you to finally start getting dressed.

It was a heavy responsibility to get you there on time, no one in the kingdom could break their fast until the palace rituals were completed, and there were no palace rituals without the heir so right now the princess was just starving the people because she couldn't be bothered to get dressed. 

You waved Malini to stop drying your hair. "So it is." You hummed out, finding interest in the perfume pot now, opening it to find a small flame tickling over the carmofur. 

"I hold no interest in these so-called Gods and their boring tales." you said aloud, "If they were even real, to begin with." 

There was an odd silence following your words. 

Your thoughts were too arrogant, practically beseeching the old gods to rain down their wrath on you. Your company exchanged uncomfortable looks while you smiled at the reaction. In a sadistic way, you liked putting them in such predicaments. Agreeing with the princess was invoking the fury of gods and disagreeing with her was... disagreeing with the princess.

Nushkat was the first to speak, "But Your Highness, the festival isn't all that boring." She said playfully. 

You arched an eyebrow, "What do you mean?" 

The girl giggled, "I mean the story of course, about what happened between the Sea god and the princess all those years before! All everyone talks about is how the princess saved the Sea God and all that bogus about generosity and virtue and whatnot." Nushkat continued, rolling her eyes. 

That was the story bludgeoned into your head as well, the tale of ebb and flow, where the old sea god drained of his powers is found by a kind princess who nursed him back to strength and he had blessed her lineage with prosperity. That was the festival you were supposed to be celebrating today. 

"But what the Sea God did wasn't all that virtuous to begin with." 

hmm

"Shut up Nushkat," Malini chastised her through her own blush, "Don't speak of such vulgarities before the princess." 

Nushkat scowled, her almond eyes finding yours again, "They can't be vulgar if they're in our scriptures can they?" 

"There's nothing such in our scriptures." Another one retorted, she used the end of her shawls to cover her mouth, eyebrows knotted with anger as if just the mention of the story itself was blasphemous. 

Your fingers trailed over the open fire, the hungry flames trying to lick your fingers desperately. 

"I swear!" Nushkat hissed out, "They even painted them! I know they keep them on the higher shelves of the royal archives." 

You withdrew your hand before the flames got to char your fingertips, Malini opened her mouth, but you cut her to it, "Tell me more."

Nushkat grinned, happy to have finally gotten the princess's attention. She scurried towards you at once, plopping down on your duvet. 

Her fingers dug into your shoulders, "When the princess found the God, she was moved to tears at his state. The lone sea god sat writing on the sand, his veshti had rolled up and on his bare skin she saw his scales, translucent and blue like they were made from moonstone." Nushkat picked up one of your earrings to emphasize, the coral-colored stone rippling in the light, "she saw them lacing up his back, and trailing down his thighs, his body taut with pain." 

"With the blood moon rising, the tide had turned so wretched, that it drained the god of his powers. Now until the red moon would be high in the sky, the god would turn mortal, plagued with everything a human is. As the god turned mortal for the night, the winds became too cold for him, the tides too strong for him to swim back, the sharp reefs cut into his skin and he felt hunger for the first time." 

Someone in the back gave a dramatic gasp and Nushkat tapped your chin lightly, "So when he saw the princess, her beauty captivated him so much, that he begged her to relieve him. To do something, anything to quell his maddening thirst." 

Her words caused one of the girls to stumble over her skirts, and another one crawled closer, "And did she agree?" She asked, her voice bated, all too consumed by the scandalous story Nushkat was weaving. 

You rolled your eyes, there was no head no tail to the story, why was the sea god suddenly squirming with desire on the beach? And what kind of princess just went wandering around alone at night?

But regardless, the prospect was intriguing to you. A God begging a human princess for relief, you thought, just imagining the scene sent a strange thrill down your spine.

Nushkat just might find herself cradling a pearl necklace back for finally striking the princesses' interest. 

"The princess sliced her palm on his scales and fed him her own blood, her fingers ghosted over his taunt skin and he hitched under her touch,"

"And as they-" Nushkat suddenly stopped mid-sentence, her eyes glazing past your face with a new-found stiffness. Beside you, Malini made a small sound, and the other two scurried to cover their heads. The sudden change in your handmaidens' mannerisms told you who had shown up.

Rafayel leaned against the arched doorframe, hand parting the beaded curtain open, "Her Highness is late." He said simply. You look up innocently, not bothering to shift from your duvet. Admiring how lovely he looked in the amber robes you had tailored for him. As he moved, they fell over his body like water on a stone sculpture. 

"I must have finally worn the high priest's patience." You said, "For him to send his favorite minion to fetch me." 

Rafayel's face crinkled in a smile, "Who is he to command her highness?" His violet-blue eyes finding yours, "And who am I to fetch you?"

Your claim on him was brazen and shameless. Anyone who saw him could tell that the magician was the favorite toy of the vain, indulgent princess. He walked through the palace draped in clothes they knew came from your chambers, he had bells that rang every time he walked along the stone-cut halls and henna markings in your hand that showed crimson against his pale skin.  

"leave us." you said, Malini shuffled on her feet, "B-but your Highness, you're not ready yet."

You gave her a bored look and she dared not repeat herself. The women excused themselves at once, wandering eyes sweeping past Rafayel's frame. Their footsteps echoed as they hurried outside the chamber.

Rafayel crossed his hand over his chest, "That Nushkat needs to keep her nose out of the Royal archives."

"Still you interrupted her story." 

"How terrible of me." He mused, "But, Your Highness will get to hear a hundred stories about the sea God at the ritual." He said, his amber flame erupted on his fingers, dancing coyly for a moment before vanishing. 

You groaned, "I wanted to know how that particular story ended." you said, rolling over so that you were lying down on your back.

It was a smart move to send him to get you. You'd give the high priest that, maybe that old geezer wasn't all that useless. He knew well that the only way to get the princess to show up was to pique her interest. Dangled a toy before a cat so she crept out of the corner. Plus, no matter your boredom, you just found it hard to deny Rafayel anything. 

Somewhere you enjoyed the power you had on him, dressing him, feeding him, playing with him like he was just another one of your dolls. And he let you. That was really the catch, wasn't it? Rafayel never said no to your whimsies. He'd let you dress him in your favorite shades, let you tie little bells on his anklets. And when you'd want to paint, he'd let you trail his back in henna designs. 

He gestured towards the robes laid out for you and you shrugged, "You sent all my maids running, I have no one to dress me." 

A knowing smile played on his lips, he ran a hand over the blush-colored robes, the fabric seemed to seep through his fingers like water "Should I dress you then?"

This was too easy. You pushed yourself off the duvet finally at least sitting up.

You tilted your head gesturing him to go ahead. 

Rafayel's cheeks were dusted pink, his fingers diligently pleating your robes, not daring to meet your gaze.

Your fingers trailed down his chest playfully, only ghosting over his skin as he figured the drape of the fabric.

"How do you think the sea god felt?' You asked, eyes not leaving his face. 

"To find yourself at the mercy of a beautiful princess?" he said, "I can hardly imagine."

Your actions were already getting him worked up. Your fingers trailed down his tone chest, peeling the thin layer of silk so you could slip your palm up against his torso. You could see how deep his blush went, a ragged breath falling from his lips as his translucent scales peeked over his skin. They appeared every time you touched him, sprouting randomly, surfacing over his skin like little diamonds. You tugged him closer, blowing on the ones of his neck, making him quiver.

"Court magician," You hummed, "you're the one who creates flames, then why do you hiss like I scorched you?"

He pulled his doe eyes to meet yours, head tilting his a little. The heat in his gaze was masked with something playful yet dangerous, he took your wrist lightly, stopping you. "Your Highness", he warned, pressing your palm against the swell of his cheek, "You're being inappropriate." The slight pout on his face, the furrow of his brow wanted you to have him kneeling. 

But you huffed, retracting your fingers, being obedient for once. Rafayel continued to measure the fabric around your waist. As he tucked it in his fingertips brushed against your bare midriff, but he seemingly brushed off the touch, before reaching to adjust the pleats across your chest. You remained quiet as he did, eyes gazing at the thin sheen of sweat lining his neck and the little scales that refused to melt back into his skin. 

For a second, his fingers lingered on your waist slightly longer, thumb fanning over the smooth skin of your stomach before he could catch himself. You watched his eyelids flutter, his feverish eyes finally met yours and you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him, so devoted and so lovely, like he could drown in reverence to you.

He just stared at you with that lovesick gaze as his fingers slipped under the fabric of your blouse, pushing it up to slide his fingers under your breasts. You jumped at his sudden touch, a faint blush covering your face as he continued to get bolder. Thumb grazing along your hardening nipple, 

You took in a ragged breath, arching a brow "You're supposed to dress me Rafayel."

Something about him was so insatiable to you, "Didn't Your Highness want to know how the story ended?"

You pushed him against the duvet and he went willingly, his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you to straddle him. The moon had brought in a pleasant coolness, the midnight hue of the sky leaving the lamps in your chamber to be the only light. 

The low flame caught gold skittering over his bare chest, his eyes wandering shyly as you traced your fingers over his torso. From his chest to the slight dip of his waist.   

You cupped his face, drawing him closer, "Great sea God." you hummed out, running your thumb over his cheekbone, "What has this wretched moon done to you?"

He drew in a breath, taking your wrist to leave a featherlight kiss "I'm weak and tired, princess." He whispered against your skin, "The moon has drained me of all my strength." He continues, tracing his lips along your arm, leaving a quick kiss to taste your skin, "I couldn't even push you off even if I wanted to."

The way his mouth felt on you burned into your skin. You slung your hands around his neck, smiling at how red the tips of his ears went. His throat wobbled as you parted your lips over his neck. "How tragic" you whispered, nipping at him. The gentlest of pull from your teeth left immediate crimson marks down his neck, he moaned against your touch, fingers gripping your waist tighter. 

His fingers dug into your sides, hitching up your skirts and pressing you to grind down harder on his erection. They trailed from your hips to your bare breasts again, thumbs twirling around your sensitive nipples. You dragged your core against him, leaving a trail of slick on his amber-gold robes. 

But you kept drawing backward as he tried to kiss you, his violet eyes narrowing with frustration, pretty lips pulled in a soft 'o'. 

"Your Highness," He complained, annoyed fingers pinching down on your breasts. "In the story, the princess was very generous to the God." 

You chuckled, "I favor you too much." You said, reaching over to pluck a grape from the fruit plate beside your duvet. 

You pressed it to his lips and he dug into it willingly, lips parting over the grape in your hand, tongue flicking out to leave a kittenish lick on your fingers. He held it between his lips as the juice dribbled down his chin and you closed your own lips over it, using your tongue to push it deeper in his mouth.

It rolled sloppily between your tongues. You could taste the sweetness of the fruit between the panting. He pulled you closer, moaning into your mouth, arms around your waist pressing you against him. Your breasts grazed against his gilded chest, the gold deliciously cold against your feverish skin. 

His cock felt painfully hard, you had to fight the urge to just slip the blush tip in your mouth and feel his pre-cum against your tongue. But you just couldn't deny the way your core was throbbing anymore. A soft gasp left his mouth as you laced your fingers through his, pinning them on either side of his head. His cock kept slipping from your arousal, the tip briefly pressing into your clit, as you rubbed your folds along the length. 

He gasped helplessly as you slipped in the tip, before lifting yourself off entirely. 

"P-please." He gasped, shaking from the restraint. His doe eyes looked at you yearningly, "I want to feel you, please-" 

"Just look at you," you said, bottoming down on his girth feeling him twitch and throb desperately. He bit his lower lip, hair matted to his forehead from the sweat. How could you not tease him? Especially when he was making that divine face.

"Should I just..." You said, hooking your finger around his necklace, jerking him closer. "chain you in my chamber?" His eyes widened, breath hitching from the conviction with which you had said it. 

"Y-your Highness." He drew in a sharp breath as you held him close by the jewels. Close enough to feel his breath on your skin, but pulling away the moment he leaned in for a kiss. 

"Keep you here as my pet?" You finally sank down, his balls slapping up against your ass. He jerked up from the sudden movement, hands flying to grab your waist. Your pace grew desperate as you fucked yourself on his cock, squeezing down on his girth until his face contorted from the pleasure. Arching your back just so his tip pressed in the right spot and his abs dragged deliciously against your clit as you rode him. His look of submission made you roll your hips harder, bounce on him until it hurt from friction. His hands grabbed at your waist weakly, trying to keep himself from squirming. But the way sunk down on him had him seeing stars. 

His jaw sagged lightly as you continued using him the way you liked, your movements rough, forcing him to bottom into you. You jerked his necklace again, pulling him towards you so your eyelashes brushed against the flush on his cheeks "You belong to me now, sea God." You whispered, sinking down his cock as he trembled from the overstimulation, "Your body is mine to command."

"Princess, if you move like that, I'll c-" He tries, voice choking as you orgasm, walls pressing down uncontrollably around him. That's what finally sends him over the edge, you feel his cock twitch as he cums inside you, filling you until his cum is trailing down your inner thigh.

You slide off him, as his cock softens, slipping out of you. You plop down beside him, the high from the orgasm washing over your body. You feel his arms around you immediately, crawling over you and caging you in a lover's embrace. 

You giggled as he kissed down your form, placing hot kisses on your breasts, halting only over your stomach. His fingers dug into the plushness of your thighs spreading you to open to admire his work. 

"You're highness, you're all dirty." he mused, eyes still hazy with desire. The pads of his thumb parting your folds, mewling praises. He leaned down, his scales luminant under the moonlight. Just the sight of him buried between your legs, had you squeezing your thighs around his neck.

"Such a pretty cunt," he purred, hot breath fanning over your core. He pressed fleeting kisses on your messy folds making you squirm under his touch, fingers digging to his violet locks, gleaming azure in the lamp-light. 

You yanked him up slightly, forcing him to meet your eyes. His mouth latched on to your clit, not breaking eye-contact, his tongue felt smiting hot, making you squelch as he ate you out. You pulled at his hair harder, grinding yourself against his mouth. Rafayel's grip around your thighs tightened, holding you in place. He felt himself grow hard again, dragging his cock along the duvet to get some friction. 

 "Does this please you, your Highness?" His asked innocently, tongue flat against your throbbing slit. "Such a greedy thing." He snarked suddenly finding his voice. His tone edged with something darker as he fell deeper into his desire.  

"It'll just lap up anything I offer" He says, a smile playing on his lips as he started to slip his fingers in you. His digits curving to dig into that one spot he knew so well.

"Rafayel? what-" your voice trailed off as you felt what he pressed up against your entrance. The cold skin a sudden change from his warm mouth. He pressed the grape into you shamelessly, coating it in your slick as he rolled it over your folds. 

"Look at you, "He cooed out, "So fucking hungry." Digging it deeper as he sucks on your clit. Your fingers dug into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. Your grip tightened painfully as you neared your release, mouth slacking open from the pleasure, "R-rafayel" you gasped out, and he groaned as you called his name, tossing the grape and slipping his tongue between your folds to feel you clamp down as you came. 

He pulled away, your arousal coating his chin, a thin string of slick connecting you as you pulled his face closer tasting yourself on his tongue. You moaned through the kiss, your grip on yourself slipping. Your entire body felt excruciatingly hot, clouding your mind with a desperate need to feel more of him. It was messy the way his fingers went grabbing to feel your soft breasts as you reached for his hardening cock, aligning it with your opening again. 

Again again, again, you wanted him again. 

No matter how many times he entered you, The stretch alone made you curl your toes. He was a tumble of flustered sounds, as he pushed his leaky tip inside, practically purring at at how warm you felt around him. His thumb brushed over your sensitive clit.

You were right, despite his mastery over flames, it was always you that scorched him. His fingers linked through yours as pressed into you deeper, the tip sitting snugly before he dragged it out, almost slipping out before slamming it back hilt deep.

"You're taking me - s-so well." He panted out, eyes pinned on how you sucked him in. You yelped as he pulled you back into himself, the slick trailing down your leg as he continued to fuck into you. Your thoughts were far too consumed with the pleasure, slamming bak into him so he didn't stop his delicious pace.

"Didn't you want me chained here mistress?" he whispered, "Keep me here, so i could only please you?" You bit your tongue to keep yourself from snapping back, giving him a bruised look. He was just treating you like some common cocksleeve. But you didn't want him to stop and tease you, not when you felt the pleasure of another orgasm right at the back of you throat. 

You fisted into the robes under you, crumpling the fine pressed silk, as he continued to split you open.

"Your highness! You're ruining your clothes," Rafayel purred out, pulling your wrists back as he thrust into you. It angled him deeper, and you threw your head back, the lewd slapping sounds echoing out in your chamber. 

The coil in your stomach snapped, your wrists slipping from his grip. And you sprawled forward unto your duvet, cunt spasming around his girth. You felt his swollen and hot his cock felt as he came inside you again, refusing to pull out. He felt so good, his length curving up, moulding your walls to his shape.

The warmth of the room hung around you and you buried your face in the peach-pink robes. Rafayel's voice was playful, humming against the nape of your neck, still buried deep into you,

"Would your Highness like to be dressed now?"

Don't actually fuck around with fruit it will give you infections xoxo. Reader here just has an all powerful magical princess pussy.

[ira-hydrangea]

Twisted Sugar Realm Masterlist

You can find your journey progress here along with some other notes. If you forget something, feel free to ask me in inbox.

The journey to Sugarveil Haven is not an easy one. Only after passing the several trials from the other kingdom will a traveler be granted entry into the kingdom. However, for those who succeed, Sugarveil Haven offers not just answers but the possibility to change the fate of the realms

Whenever it be through uncovering the truth behind the Chosen Cookie or learning how to combat the rising darkness threatening to consume all. It is a place where secrets are revealed, but only to those brave enough to face the challenges set before them.

Prologue {How The story Begin}

The Crystal Shards {Explanation}

The Bestowal of Crystal Shards to 7 Protectors {World building}

Crimson Tartland

A kingdom of strict order and absolute law, where every citizen must follow the Crimson Court’s unyielding rules. The land is adorned with dark berry tarts and thorny crimson roses, symbolizing both beauty and punishment. Those who defy the laws risk being judged by the Crimson Judge and his enforcers, with no chance for mercy.

Backstory + Crimson Court

The 5 Cookies of Crimson Court

Prologue

Chapter {1} {2}

Cinnamon Dune

A vast desert kingdom where golden cinnamon sands swirl under an eternal, sunlit sky. Ruled by a merchant-king, this realm thrives on trade, treasure, and fate, where fortunes can change as quickly as the shifting dunes. However, behind its wealth and charm, ancient secrets and long-buried curses lurk beneath the sands.

Backstory

Molasses Abyss

A dark, enigmatic kingdom submerged in the depths of a midnight-hued sea of molasses. Those who dare enter must navigate its eerie, ever-changing labyrinth of syrupy tides, ruled by a cunning sovereign who thrives in mystery and secrets. It is said that nothing enters Molasses Abyss without being rewritten by its depths—including fate itself.

Backstory

Gilded Sugar Oasis

A kingdom of opulence and grandeur, where golden rivers of honey flow through palatial gardens. It is a paradise of luxury, ruled by a benevolent yet extravagant ruler who believes happiness is best found in riches and indulgence. Yet, the land’s golden façade hides a delicate balance—too much excess, and even the sweetest dreams can turn bitter.

Backstory

Crystallized Belle

A breathtaking realm of shimmering sugar-crystal formations, where light refracts into dazzling colors. The kingdom is a place of perfection and beauty, ruled by a sovereign who seeks to sculpt a flawless utopia. However, beneath its ethereal glow, some whisper that those who cannot meet its high standards simply... disappear.

Backstory

Candied Circuit

A mechanized metropolis of endless gears, where electricity crackles through neon-lit sugar roads. In this futuristic kingdom, progress and invention never stop, ruled by a genius leader who seeks to push the limits of technology. But with each innovation comes sacrifices, and some wonder if this ever-moving city is truly alive or merely running on pre-programmed perfection.

Backstory

Eclipsed Sugar Hollow

A twilight kingdom veiled in eternal dusk, where the stars glisten like powdered sugar against the indigo sky. Magic and mystery intertwine in this realm, ruled by an enigmatic sovereign whose powers are whispered to be as ancient as the land itself. Though it appears serene, many fear that something powerful slumbers within the Hollow—waiting to awaken.

Backstory

The Sugarveil Haven

The final sanctuary hidden deep within the Twisted Sugar Realm, shrouded in a mystical veil that only the worthy may pass through. Said to be the purest and most sacred land, this kingdom is the heart of ancient magic, where the Chosen Cookie bestowed the fabled Crystal Shards. However, one cannot reach Sugarveil Haven easily—only those who have overcome the trials of the other kingdoms may set foot within its hallowed grounds.

Backstory

[tuesday-teyz]

Can you tell us the all the name of each arcs in butterfly reign and short description abt it :>

Also hai teyz!

Hai, and thank you for the question!

I answered this one before in the comments to the last chapter, so I'm going to copy that and then expand a little on what I mean by arcs and how they are distinct from one another:

Arc 1. The Midday Sun

Includes everything from the start of the story and until the night of the Empress' death anniversary. This is kind of like the 'hanging' point of the story where I set up the main players on the deck and their relationships. Most of the conflicts at this stage are plain and understandable: Tommy hates Wilbur because he left, he is bitter at his family for their preference towards Ranboo, and he gravitates towards Dream.

The majority of people would clearly separate characters into 'good' or 'bad' based on their general disposition towards Tommy, the primary narrator. In a way Midday Sun also refers to how Tommy views himself: at noon, shadows are most prominent and distinct, almost separate from one's own body, much like Tommy and Theseus are two separate entities in his mind.

Arc 2. The Witching Hour

The phrase witching hour by itself refers to the typically darkest part of the night at around 3am, often tied to superstition and magic. The arc includes Tommy and Dream's fallout, Tommy's conflict with Techno, and the entirety of the traveling arc with Wilbur as well as Techno's interlude.

The primary conflicts in here are sort of flipped. We get this betrayal-ish moment in discduo, even though the readers already know that Dream's been shapeshifting, while Wilbur's more empathetic behavior might hint for some people of a possible redemption. This arc is aimed at recontextualizing previous actions and behaviors: Dream helped Tommy out of political gain and then somewhere along the way came to care for him genuinely, Wilbur acted out not out of maliciousness but because he was unable to grasp the nature of Tommy's opposition to him, and Techno had suffered in silence and distanced himself due to intense feelngs of guilt and isolation.

The Witching Hour also refers to Tommy's darkest points when it comes to the state of his mind. On multiple occasions, he contemplates taking his own life, shows complete disregard toward his health and well-being, and his inner conflict of past vs now manifests in him making up reasons to be angry and an asshole to people around him. All of this in part masks how the entities of Tommy and Theseus begin to merge together, ultimately leading to a decision that would probably feel very out of character for Midday Sun Tommy. During the Witching Hour, everyone just looks like their shadows, which someone could argue are their truest selves.

Arc 3. The Star Of The Sea

The Star of The Sea is a lesser common name for Polaris, the North Star, due to it's significance in maritime navigation. Polaris' position in the sky is comparatively stable, which makes calculating distance much more accurate even when using most primitive tools. It is also one of the easiest and brightest stars to find at night. I don't know if anyone else does that, but whenever I want to look for some constellations in the sky, I always find Polaris first, then the Ursa Minor (constellation that Polaris is a part of), and then find the rest relative to positions of Ursa Minor and Major. Probably not the correct or scientific way to do but still, there is an inherent association of clarity tied to the North Star.

Because arc 3 didn't happen yet, I can't say a whole lot without bordering on spoilerish, but Dream's comparison of Tommy to the North Star in arc 1 does have something to do with it. To me, this is the arc for showing the characters' – and especially Tommy's – purest, truest forms. Tying it back with arc 1 and 2, you can't see stars during the day, and to see the stars clearly you first need to reach a point where the sky is truly dark. I'm hoping to loop every unfinished arc around in and on itself here, so hopefully I'm able to produce a full and coherent narrative by the end of this and preferably before I graduate university and apply for a full time job lmao.

[threestarsaboveclouds]

I am wondering, how do you and how did the citizens previously inhabiting Zenith conceive of star groupings?

Through their positions in actual space or on their positions on the celestial sphere? (Or another way?)

Allow me to expand on my questions and on my motivations to ask them. You may also simply answer my above questions, if the answers to what I write below takes too much of your resources to transmit.

A lot of civilizations without access to astronomy observation instruments group stars based on their closeness on the celestial sphere. A common phenomenon is that imaginary lines are drawn between stars and the resulting shapes are used for ease of remembrance, to then aid in navigation and telling the date*. To give these shapes cultural significance is common as well; from tying into legends and religious tales, to believing the position of star groupings relative to the horizon have a precognitive meaning or are able to affect peoples mood or personality. Even as civilisations develop technology to better perceive the actual spacial arrangements of stars in space, the cultural significance often sticks around.

And well, all of that explaination of what is common is to ask; were the ancients an exception to that norm?

And if such cultural significance of star groupings based on their positions on the celestial sphere did exist in their civilization; did the cultural significance of star groupings "stick around" until the end of their civilization? Since the ancients civilization lasted longer than other documented civilizations, I am curious to know if those cultural significances got lost or changed as their civilization went on.

Did the population of Zenith differ in their perception of the stars/star groupings from what was the norm among ancients? I ask since I would imagine the population that lived in and around an iterator whose purpose is to observe the sky would have different academic and cultural knowledge about stars than the average ancient.

Thank you for your time, I hope this message finds you well.

*though I am not educated enough in astronomy to know whether telling the date through the position of stars on the celestial sphere is possible because of a planet's axial tilt, or because of what phase the planet's orbit around its star is in. Or a combination of the two?

(OOC: Just randomly thought of a question that might be interesting to answer, for TSAC in canon and for you to possibly worldbuild around! So I thought I'd ask it. Thinking of how a non-human advanced civilisation might conceive of constellations or if they've moved to a different way to commonly group stars definitely gets my sci-fi-worldbuilding gears turning! And you as someone more knowledge about astronomy might find it even more interesting than me. So yeah. Hope you have fun! Wishing you a good day :D)

TSAC: Star groupings were a vital part of the mythology of my creators. Scholars of bedrock-horizon archeology also believe that any civilizations that came before might have had similar beliefs, but concrete evidence of this has long since been subsumed by the Void Sea.

Early on in my creators' history, the stars were used in a similar manner to those you mentioned; they were used to aid in navigation, track the passage of time, and predict the most optimal times for planting and harvest of crops. However, spiritual significance was imparted upon the stars as well.

My creators placed great importance upon the Great Cycle and its manifestations; one of which being the cycles present in the sky. Early astronomers believed that the Sun, Moon, and other celestial bodies were all attached to fixed spheres which moved around our planet. The most distant of these spheres was the Firmament, to which the stars were affixed.

Before advances in astronomy enabled precise measurements of the movements of celestial bodies, this model of the universe was considered praxis. The Spheres represented the cycle in its purest form, with each celestial object perfectly repeating a daily cycle of rise and set, life and death, with no deviations from this expected pattern. Thus the stars were treated with great reverence; and my creator’s ancestors used the shapes laid out in the night sky to tell tales that represented their values.

These stories often varied between groups, but the overarching mythology was largely the same. The society of my creators placed great importance on the concept of ascension, and believed that to ascend, one must let go of five worldly Urges that bound the physical form to the Carnal Plane. These five Urges were associated with five different constellations, each associated with their own parables.

The First Urge, Violence, is represented by the constellation of The Outlaw, associated with ferocity, raw emotion, and revenge. According to myth, the Outlaw claimed the ability to slay any living creature, and set out upon this task, leaving a trail of destruction and bloodshed in their wake. They were only stopped by the venomous sting of a tiny crawling creature, ultimately leading to their death. This tale was meant to caution against becoming blinded by violence and bloodlust.

The Second Urge, Lust, is represented by the constellation of The Martyr. The Martyr is associated with fertility, life, and creative vigor. Their mythology is varied across cultures, but is often associated with a tale of two lovers, one of whom was cast into the Void Sea as a form of ritual sacrifice. The remaining lover, stricken with grief, resigned themself to a life of hermitage, and spent their days composing music. These melodies were said to have drawn up the Martyr from the Void, and allowed them to visit their lover in their dreams.

The Third Urge, Companionship, is represented by The Allies. They were said to have voyaged the seas of the world, always remaining at each other’s sides. Their last voyage took them to the Void Sea, where they ascended together. The Allies represent trust and protection, and were often revered by travelers who wished for safe passage and hoped to be welcomed upon reaching their destinations in unfamiliar lands.

The Fourth Urge, Gluttony, is represented by The Nectar Bearer. The Nectar Bearer represents abundance, indulgence in excess, and joy in consumption. The Nectar Bearer, as the name implies, possesses an overflowing vessel of sweet nectar, a popular beverage among my creators, which was often enjoyed during festivities. The Nectar Bearer, being an avatar of excess, was also considered in early mythology to be the cause of seasonal floods, as its appearance in the sky coincided with the approach of the rainy season. The resulting floods brought both destruction as well as rejuvenation to fallow fields. (However, the mass construction of iterators has since made this prediction of the yearly flood cycle irrelevant, due to their disruption of the global climate.)

Finally, the Fifth Urge, Survival, is represented by The Shield Bearer. The Shield Bearer represents the will to survive, shared by all living creatures. However, in order to ascend, they must relinquish their shields and expose themself to the fullness of the world, allowing the wholeness of reality to flow through them. Similarly, my creators believed that they needed to allow themselves to become vulnerable in order to spiritually ascend above and beyond the Carnal Plane.

These myths were largely metaphorical, of course, and were repeated not as fact, but as allegories to provide guidance towards achieving Ascension. The Five were considered the most important, but other constellations were also chosen to represent the core values of my creators. Among these are The Monk, The Hunter, The Saint, The Chieftain, The Wanderer, The Scholar, The Nomad, The Warrior, The Pilgrim, and The Mother. 

The Five were all located either on or close to the Ecliptic, the line traced out through the sky by the Sun and Moon. There was some cultural belief that the location of the Sun near each of the Five on one's day of birth would determine which of the Urges an individual would be bound to most strongly… though this was never backed up by empirical evidence. Similar astrological beliefs persisted long after the scientific renaissance brought on by the Void Fluid Revolution, but it was considered more of a spiritual matter than a concrete scientific one.

The citizens of my city, Zenith, rejected the concept of astrology… at least early on. The Classical Firmamentalists were more concerned with studying the physical cycles of the observable world, and how they were connected to the larger Cycle of the universe. They believed that if they could decipher the true nature of the Celestial Spheres, then they would also gain an understanding of what may lie beyond the Carnal Plane.

However, as the city’s original founders departed for the Void, they were slowly replaced with a New Wave of Firmamentalists whose beliefs began to evolve. Not only could an understanding of the physical world unlock the secrets of ascension, but it could also be used to make predictions of the future, contact the past, or even travel between the Carnal plane and the realm of Dreams, outside the bounds of the Firmament. This interpretation of the Celestial Spheres was… far from my founders’ vision, to say the least. There was little evidence to support these New Wave theories, but they grew in popularity as time progressed.

@mebis-art-dump

Part of the appeal to the New Wave Firmamentalists was an effort to use the cycles to accurately predict the future. They built on the beliefs of Classical Firmamentalism, namely, that the Universe was built upon finely-tuned cycles and epicycles from which reality emerged. They were in agreement on this. Where they diverged, however, was the New Wave belief that these cycles could be manipulated to one's own ends, in order to achieve favorable outcomes. They aimed to achieve this through extensive study of the movement of the stars, combined with elaborate rituals, intense meditation and training, and even indulgence in hallucinogenics during their extravagant ceremonies. It was all rather excessive, in my opinion.

I continued with my duties, regardless. The New Wave Firmamentalists could draw whatever conclusions they wished from my data, it didn’t make a difference to me. The High Council priests eventually caught on to my disdain for the topic of astrology, and danced around it during their interactions with me as best as they could. It was painfully obvious that they viewed me as little more than a tool to meet their ends, despite their efforts to conceal this sentiment.

...

I apologize, I did not mean to divert this discussion to personal matters.

… the constellations and their associated myths mean very little to me. If anything they are a simple curiosity, and provide me with a standard method of dividing the sky into different sections which can be traced back to ancient records. I have thus far found no evidence that prediction of the movement of the celestial spheres can allow one to manipulate or even escape the Cycles. If this were the case, I suppose I would have achieved ascension myself a long time ago.

Though, the old scholars who believed such things found their own way out, didn’t they. And here I remain.

[xodarling]

Lady of the moon. Lady of the sea. - xodarling

includes: dom!jingliu, goddess of the moon!jingliu, goddess of the sea!reader, oral, fingering, lowercase writing, usage of y/n, ex relationships mentioned, reader can sing, pet names (dear, darling, my dearest, my lady, more prolly), established relationship, nipple play, squirting

a/n: someone play gods by newjeans

“hm.”

jingliu hums as she watches you sway from above the dark clouds in the sky. the goddess of the moon, her gaze stays on you, the goddess of the purest bodies of water; the goddess of the sea. jingliu prefers solitude, not wanting to mingle with lovers, especially not after what happened with anatole, the goddess of the sun, her past lover.

jingliu swears she can still feel the flames of her own skin heat hers up. centuries, those two were together, but they split only a few decades ago, the reason why night and day are never one. however, her preference for solitude makes an exception for you, the way your body moves like the waves of your water has her mesmerized, she could watch for hours.

she yearns to dance with you like that, if she wasn’t so awful at dancing. your siren voice snaps her out her trance, “my lady of the moon. do you not grow tired of admiring me?” the moon and sea are a lifetime apart, yet you two have grown close, have grown into lovers. you pause your dance and turn to the direction of the moon, you can’t see her but you know she’s there.

“of course not.” her deeper voice responds. your feet graze the water and manipulate the water until there’s a hill high enough for jingliu to come down. “my dearest jingliu. i beg you, come down and kiss me once more.” you stare at the moon with an expression of longing, a dark mist forms and descends down to your level, the clouds form into your lover.

“y/n.” she states, cupping your cheeks with her hands, the wetness of your skin wetting hers too, “you call, and i come.” your hands wrap around her waist and dig into her dress, “my moon, it has been too long since we last met.” you say with a tone of longing and desire, the waves below you two grows rougher and less tame as the need for her lips grows.

these days, the more times that passes where you don’t see jingliu you grow agitated, the reason why the ocean is calm at night. “i am begging you, my lady of the moon. kiss me. i need your kisses like humans need food and water, kiss me.” your desperate, wet fingers digging into her dress as the loud waves ring in your ears.

jingliu takes her time in admiring your face, she hasn’t seen you in so long because of her rest. after a moment, she gently pulls your faces together and presses her lips on yours. the aggressive waves still when you feel her lips, a hum leaving your throat out of habit, unfortunately, you both pull away from the kiss and admire each other.

“i am eternally grateful you fell for me, my dearest jingliu.” you murmur, “i love you, dearly.” you pull her body closer which makes her hum. of course you’d be grateful she chose you, especially after her former lover, what a mess of a break up, shocking that she can love again.

jingliu enjoys the feeling your damp skin on hers, she closes her eyes for a beat and then opens them and smiles when she sees your face once more. “i love you too, dear.” she murmurs, taking in your features that she slowly became obsessed with, “there’s nothing i want more than to be by your side and to call you my lover.”

the tall waved slowly descends down by your desire and flattens down with the rest of your waters. “my dearest, please, allow me to sing for you.” every time jingliu awoke once more and the moon arose, you take her to this rock in the middle of the water. flat, and perfect for her to rest her head on your lap.

“of course, my dear.” she murmurs. you take her long, elegant hand and slowly walk with her to your spot. both of you take slow and soft steps against the water, enjoying the comforting silence of the ocean and each others company. when you two make it, you gracefully sit down on your knees, looking up at her while patting your lap, “rest your head on my lap, my lady.”

jingliu follows your command, she always does, she is head over heels only for you. she lets out a sigh when her cranium hits your thighs, allowing herself to be held in the warmth of your soothing and gentle embrace. your voice vocalizing fills the silence, like a siren luring a sailor to his demise, a sound that jingliu adores.

“how long have we been apart?” she murmurs, opening her eyes to look up at you, you reciprocate her gaze with an equally as loving look. “since last night.” you giggle softly at the irony, “far too long if you ask me.” jingliu hums in agreement, “too long..” her eyes close as you being to hum and sing once more.

your fingers softly comb through her long, white hair, humming and admiring her elegant and fierce features. a few minutes of your voice and silence, jingliu swears she can rest right now and make anatole rise sooner than she wants, but your angelic voice wakes up her just a little.

“will you hold me in your heart forever?” you softly ask, looking down at her with doe eyes. jingliu opens her eyes, exposing her blood red irises and chuckles softly, cooing almost. “i will love you even if death overtakes both of us. even when we no longer exist.” she sighs and reaches her hand up to cup your cheek, “you will forever be in my heart.”

“show me.” you murmur, jingliu raises an eyebrow, “show me how much you love me, please.” your voice is brittle, shaky and weak. jingliu sits up from your lap and sits next to you, “my love,” jingliu hums, cupping your cheek with her gloved hand, “i’ll worship you like no mortal has before..” your eyes roll back and siren hum leaves your throat when she leans and gives you a passionate kiss.

it was all just a haze, your tongues dancing around each other and your hands clumsily taking off each other’s clothing. you find yourself bare to the cold night and your back laying on the flat rock, jingliu hums and ogles at your figure, one that she fell in love with instantly.

her hands run down your body, taking in every mole, scar, and the perfection that she sees. she leans down and softly wraps her lips around your nipple, and then whine you let out made jingliu feel like a sailor being hypnotized by a siren. her tongue flicks your bud around, softly sucking in between a few flicks.

“my jingliu.” you sigh, moist fingers finding home in her cloud-like hair. her eyelids close as she treats your nipple as the most precious thing her mouth has ever encountered, her tongue circling your areola and flicking the nip of it. jingliu’s rough hands remain at your waist, relaxing with the sound of the ocean and your addicting voice.

“i love you.” she whispers, releasing the nub and pressing kisses lower and lower, going down to your nether region and coming face to face with your damping vagina. “gorgeous.” she whispers, pressing a kiss onto your clit, “ethereal.” she speaks again, running a finger up and down your slit. “my dear, i beg you, don’t tease.” you pant, looking at her with eyes filled with admiration.

a husky chuckle leaves her throat, finding you’re so desperate for her adorable. “apologies, darling.” she hums, sticking her tongue out and licking your flower gently and humming at your tangy taste. the taste of your nectar was something not even the finest of meals could match, the way your taste melts onto her tongue has her yearning for more.

just by savoring the taste of your slick jingliu can already feel her core heat up and her eyes roll back to her head, “exquisite..” she mutters, “thank you for the meal, my love.” she laughs, making you pout and squirm just a bit. jingliu decides enough with the teasing, her muscle finds itself right in front of your moist slit and pushes in.

no matter how many times the two of you do this jingliu always has you seeing stars, a melodious sigh leaving your throat, and your fingers tightly take hold of her locks once more. her tongue rubs and prods at your walls while she groans at the salty but sweet flavor, your wetness grew with each move, your slick now staining her chin and lips.

“oh, my lady- my darling..” you sigh with your eyebrows tightly knit and eyelids shut. if she could, jingliu would spend millenniums in between your legs, just tasting your delicious honey; it’s hard to know if she’s doing this for you or herself. her mouth explores each inch of you despite the countless times it has, soon enough, she finds that special spot right there.

you let out a note that sends jingliu farther into trance, the tip of her tongue touching your G-spot continuously just to hear that beautiful voice that she loves. “i will never tire of this taste.” she takes her tongue out of your walls and stares at your slit with admiration, “so perfect.” she whispers.

her fingers spread your folds, blowing on your exposed genitalia and chuckling when you whine. she decides enough with the teasing, and pushes her slim digits into your desperate canal. with the many times she’s done this, her fingertips find your spot with ease, her arm beginning to flex as she presses that spot rougher each time. her eyes, however, remain on your hard clit.

your face scrunches in pleasure with your head thrown back, a beautiful angle from jingliu’s sights. the moon’s tongue flicks at your bud before encasing the thing around her lips. her eyes switch between rolling back to staring intently at your face, “i.. love youu..” you vocalize, your hands going on the back of your knees to spread legs more.

your notes grow in pitch as her movements become desperate. if jingliu was able to hear a sound for the rest of her life it would be your voice, each whimper and moan makes her heart soar and core dampen. the suction on your clitoris and the aggressive pumping of fingers in you was causing you to see stars, and not the ones already in the sky.

her digits move in ways that if a mortal sailor would cruise in on their boat, they’d flee immediately due to fear of those deadly sirens, except, sirens don’t scream the name of another god. your drenched lower body twitches in anticipation of your release, your walls clenching around her like you were trying to milk her.

jingliu is an intelligent goddess, guessing from the way your voice got louder and how the waves around you started to aggressively crash were signs that you were close. that filled the luna with even more determination, her jaw and bicep beginning to lock but her efforts do not pause.

your whines were like prayers to the lady of the moon herself, begging the goddess and your lover to give you your sweet end. but, the moon controls the sea and it is only up to her if you get that relief. in a delirious action, after you roll your eyes back, you look down at jingliu only to see her staring directly at you.

jingliu chuckles and her voice made vibrations touch your bud, which made you sing louder. after spending years bounded together, she can feel your desperation and lucky for you, jingliu wants nothing more than to see the elegant lady of the sea become a mess only for her.

she detaches her mouth and then leans up, the pace of her digits not once slowing down or even stopping. her wet lips graze your earlobe in a sensual manner and whispers with her husky and desperate voice, “sing for me, my lady.”

those words don’t even linger for a nanosecond before you erupt, the waves becoming aggressive as your shrill but hypnotizing sounds hits jingliu’s ears. her digits don’t relent as you buck and spray your sweet liquid all over jingliu’s arm and clothing, your head thrown back and your mouth stuck in an ‘O’ shape.

funny enough, your orgasm comes in waves, each tide stronger than the other and it remains that way until a few moments go by when her hands stopped because of exhaustion. your body tenses only last time before completely relaxing, alongside the waves of sea water surrounding you two. as you recompose yourself, she licks up your tangy liquid that you showered everywhere.

she chuckles and leans down to give you a peck on your head, “that was an amazing performance, my darling.” she murmurs, admiring your perfect face. you whine and teasingly smack her arm, she continues her fit of laughter and lays down next to you on the cold, hard rock. “you really deserve your title as the best performer of us all.”

“shush now.” you pout, rolling to your side and resting on top of her body. your ear resting on one of her breasts which causes you to sigh in relief. the two of you take a moment to relax in each other’s embrace, the slight sounds of water and your breathing serving as background noise. after a pause, you murmur, “do you truly love me..?”

jingliu looks down and hums, “i do. i love you.” she softly reassures, combing her fingers through her hair, “dearly?” you softly question, looking back up at her,

“dearly.”

[vultursvolans]

— ☆ 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐀

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: whenever summer comes around, especially when dahlias bloom, everything begins to remind you of your late lover

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: alhaitham x gn!reader. sfw. angst. modern!au (could be read as canon tbh), character death mention (alhaitham), hurt/slight comfort, very bittersweet, previously established relationship, unresolved grief, reminiscing, heavy summer and flower themes 0.8k wc. masterlist

a/n: this is my submission for the @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday that we do every few weeks. this time the prompt was "goodbye, my summer love". as I deal with some personal grief rn, writing this was a nice way to cope, and doing a very angsty take was kind of fun. the title of this drabble was named after the perfume 'Midnight Dahlia' by Korres but the plot is my own

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Summer days were always long and languid.

Once, they felt like a letter from a lover, but now they remain a capsule of something lost. Alhaitham always said that when being bathed by the sun, time truly slowed down; if you listened carefully, you could hear the world hum under its breath. 

Alhaitham said a lot of things, which was ironic because back then, you and everyone who knew him, had always teased him for being the quieter type. 

But the truth was you never fully understood ‘quiet’ until he was gone.

It was during the height of summer when he’d bring you dahlias. With his endless knowledge of everything that lived and breathed, you quickly learned the meanings — purple for dignity, yellow for joy, white for purity. His mixed bundles were his way of telling you that, to him, you were all of the above.

Dignified. Joyful. Filled with the purest form of love. 

They weren’t always your favourite but over time, you had grown to love them because they reminded you of him. Since the day he left you, it took you longer than you wanted to admit to stop weeping every time you saw one.

Still, you made the effort to bring some home whenever they were in season. It was akin to pretending that he was not truly gone but just somewhere else for a while.

As the last day of summer transitioned, you sat on the porch, watching the sky deepen into the hours before dawn. The dahlias in the vase beside you were wilting, petals curling as if bracing for the inevitable chill of autumn. Your chest tightened, knowing what that meant.

People used hourglasses to measure time. You had flowers.

You brushed the fragile petals with your fingertips, and for a fleeting moment, you were taken to a time when your world was whole.

It was a late evening when you and Alhaitham sat in silence, surrounded by the last blooms of the season. He had been reading, and you simply watched him, content with the quietness. Amused, he rose from his spot to pluck a single dahlia from the garden and tucked it behind your ear. You were baffled, he noticed in your face, but you relaxed when you were met with his eyes. They were honest and made your skin grow hot. They were worth a room full of gold.

It had been years since Alhaitham passed. The grief dulled but it never left, lingering like a curse that could not be broken. You tried to move forward but summer always brought him back.

Something as simple as a stroll on the beach was enough to tug at your heart because the sand bore one less set of footprints, the warmth of the sun graced one less body, and sometimes when the sea breeze came, you felt the echo of his presence behind you as if you were still walking, hand in hand. 

But it was the dahlias that hurt the most. They mostly bloomed in the heat and every summer, they seemed to grow just for you, as if Alhaitham was sending them as a reminder. 

Closing your eyes, memories came flooding in like waves, threatening to pull you under into the past. You remembered how his hand brushed against you the day he made you his and your fingers involuntarily twitched at the thought. In his bedroom, the air was thick with the scent of earth and flowers, and sunlight spilled lazy shadows onto the wooden floors through his sheer curtains. Your lips quivered because you never forgot how it made you feel when he leaned in and kissed you. You could still taste the sea salt on your lips.

Time stretched endlessly that day but time caught up with everyone, eventually.

You exhaled a shaky breath, your jaw was trembling.

Summer always ruined you.

Grief, no matter how much time passed, always weaved its way back in. Saying goodbye to him never felt final. He lingered in the corners of your heart, in warm afternoons, in the bloom of the dahlias.

When a cool breeze brought you back to the present, you felt the world shake. You opened your eyes just in time to see one of the petals lift from its stem and float away. It danced through the air, weightless and alone, waiting to disappear into the night. You watched it until it was out of sight, lost to the starless sky.

“Goodbye, Alhaitham,” you whispered. You even thought you smiled a little, too. 

For the first week of autumn, you returned to the porch, waiting for a hint of rain and watching for any sign of encroaching storm clouds. You breathed in and out. It was time for the axe to fall.

Goodbye, Alhaitham.

The dahlias will come again next summer, and with them, so would your memories of him. 

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.

networks: @houseofsolisoccasum @nereidsrealm

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[drefear]

Righteous and Romance

Summary: Miguel is the God of chaos, and you are the goddess of peace and beauty. an idea originally by @hrhmimieucliffe

TW: light smut, p in v.

He was inherently chaos, broad backed and straight shouldered. He was the voice dripped in red and encouraged man’s wildest desires: murder, sex, gambling, money, and more. A drowning flame, he was a mystery cloaked in anger and resentment, mirroring unease at every fine point. He was insanity and she was clever. She was butterfly kisses of the sea salt air on the beach, an afternoon sun shower with a rainbow across the bluest sky. She smelled of lavender and truth, and she sounded like honey covered dew drops on the tongue of a river. Her laughter made men fall to their knees, and so did his sword. His words made widows weep, and her words made them pray for thanks. 

She was all that was good and beautiful, and he was the fire that burned beauty to the ground in a pile of rotten ashes. 

They did not see eye to eye. 

“A martyr, creating such victims with your gifts.” Miguel roared, his nature as God of Terror taking hold of his mind as he stormed into your garden while you tanned in the grass. One of your eyes opened to see his hulking, angered form marching towards you and you let out a deep sigh in retaliation. 

“At least I am one to give gifts, as I recall you only give grief.” You sat up, fastening your silk robes around your waist as you covered your shoulders and leaned on one hand. He blocked the sun as he stood in front of you, frown cutting the corners of his mouth sharply. 

“Grief builds countries, grief gives men purpose and woman motivation. What do your frilly gifts do for anyone?” 

“My beauty and kindness gives all who they grace a sense of purity and happiness, of which can also build countries and give purpose and motivation. Have you ever been kind in your life?” 

“No one has given me a reason to do so.” As you stood to speak to him, you felt dwarfed by his stature and fixed your posture. 

“You should not need a reason to be kind to another.” You spoke back and he stayed quiet, no other words being spoken. 

This was a battle of beliefs, an unspoken exchange of ideas. You stared at one another silently before he turned on his heels and stomped away. 

But the truth was, at night, he worshiped your body like a loyal disciple. HIs lips ghosted over your skin as you mounted his lap, being held but one of his arms around your waist as your head fell backwards. Miguel pushed your hair off of your shoulder as he kisses and licked the top of your soft breasts, pacing himself and going slow to savor you like his last meal. 

“Your body is like a peaceful night under the stars.” He whispered as your hands wound their way into his brown hair, shivering at his sweet words. “Thank you for this, for giving yourself to me, my sweet Goddess.” He thanked you, appreciated you as your bodies rocked together in harmony, a melody only the two of you would ever witness. 

“My bold MIguel, let me give you everything when it is just us, let yourself fall deep into love.” You spoke against his forehead as he rolled your hips against his, buried deep inside of you as you shook with overwhelming pleasure. 

“I have fallen in love, and you are my only saving grace, you are my all and nothing could compare to our intimacy. I only pray to you, I only make love to you.” His admission of true love and devotion sends waves of ecstasy to your core and makes you clench around him as you both finish. Sweat covered your features as he laid down your bare body, staying close to you and refusing to detach himself. “I will never be with another like I am with you, to the Gods I swear it.” He announced and you cupped his cheek, bruising your thumb against the stubble. 

“To you, my precious Miguel, I am only my true self, and you are my purest desire, my indulgence. You are mine.” You concluded as your eyes pulled you into a black abyss and you both fell asleep, knowing that tomorrow the bickering would continue and the night would create a paradoxical love once more, between Chaos and Beauty. 

[lavenderdropp]

ABYSSAL: [MERMAN! KOKUSHIBO /MICHIKATSU TSUGIKUNI X FEMALE! READER]

-> Chapter One: Purest of all

Warnings: mentions of injuries, drowning, blood and sea storm and amnesia.

The soft splash of the sea waves hugging the shore echoed throughout the land. Sea breeze brushing against their skin, acting as a reliever from the draining summer day which now came to its end with a lovely sunset. It could be considered as a reward for all the hard work done by her throughout the day. Just as the sky was being tainted in the blossoming hues of settling evening, their hearts melted with love and longing for one another. Salty waters of shore ends kissed her feet which were dangling down the wooden ramp as she was seated at the edge of it.

The maiden looked down at him. Her [eye color] orbs holding nothing but admiration and affection. For him. Her eyes comparable to that of a marble. So beautiful. So alluring as she had held him captivate under her gaze. Yet, she was unaware. Unaware of the hold she had upon him which tied his heart and soul to her. It was almost foolish that how vulnerable he felt in front of her. But he wouldn't have it the other way. As they succumbed into the moment, the only thing surrounding them was serenity. 

Her hands in his. 

The tender hold of her hands against his was simply blissful. Her mere presence was enough to calm the raging turmoil within him. She was the missing piece of his soul which completed the puzzle of his being. With her by his side it felt like his search for the unknown was complete. 

He was complete. 

A claw, embroidered with elegantly shimmering scales beneath the setting rays of sun, reached up to brush itself against the delicate texture of her cheek. She didn't flinch or tried to pry off his hand, instead she only leaned into it and smiled at him. She always managed to catch him off guard. No matter how many times she did that, it always felt new. Her reaction, it was different, different from what he had experienced throughout his life from others. He was used to the looks of fear and cowering figures beneath him. Yet, there was she, seated at the top of a wooden ramp which connected the land to the sea, gazing down at him with eyes filled with affection while he was submerged in the water as his tail helped his upper body to stay afloat upon the surface of the water.

A mutual madness, a mutual desire, and a mutual flowing emotion in the eyes as she leaned down and he leaned up slightly. Their faces inches apart. Their lips hovered over each other's lime a taunting indication of what might happen next. Senses on fire from the drug of love. Then their lips met-

Eye lids opened to reveal a pair of [eye color] iris, as cold as the ice, as shimmer-less as a rusted metal and devoid of any emotion. They were just empty. Slowly, a movement took place as they shifted to observe their surroundings. A wooden hurled room, number of barrels and a couple of ropes and fine weapons. 

The vertigo of rocking from left to right sent sensations down the body of the wooden blight on its voyage towards it's next destination unknown and undisclosed towards the figure bound by the shackles of metal forged by fire and repeated beating of a mighty hammer. The rocking motion made the wooden prison creak and groan from the perpetrator responsible for it's sick cradle of motion. However unlike an infant's cradle that was supposed to bring comfort, this was anything but comforting. 

Sensations from the rocking and creaking reached the numb body that slowly awoken from the deep slumber she had been in a moment ago. 

COLD.

Cold was the first sensation that returned to her. Stinging her awakened flesh like a string of wasps. Hurting and painful. Second was the throbbing and pulsating sensation clawing at the side of her head making her groan. Third was pins and needles and tiredness the more her body moved. And last was the cold of the metal shackles and chains, clanking with every small movement of her body.

They sounded together echoing in the dark as her arm reached out and she flipped onto her stomach. As if to insult her small triumph, a roll of thunder and strike of lightning sounded off from above. Lighting up the strange room just for a brief moment. Letting tired confused orbs get a glimpse of what might've been a ship's storage room. Tied barrels thumped against each other as the rocking continued with a roll of thunder off the tip of the storm's violent lashing tongue. 

The sounds muffled together in her ears as her vision swam about. Her ears ring. Her body stings. Her visions blur with roundabout darkness. Where was she? What had happened?

CRACK-!!

The harsh rocking back and forth increases suddenly increased from the left as a mighty wave must've crashed into this alleged ship's side. The bottom of the ship where the wave him made the floorboards push inwards briefly from the force used to smash into them. The entire room dipped right sending her rolling sideways around and around. Shackle chains clanking crazily and sounds leaving her mouth indescribable in the moment until with a final thud she collided face and stomach first into a line of crates where they leaned against the left wall. Other objects tumbled down around her thudding and crashing from the force of the ship leaning left.

A sharp hiss left her throat at the harsh welcome of the ship from her slumber. Eyes closing momentarily as she tried to take in whatever was happening.

What happened?

The answer to that question came as a sharp sting going throughout her head. Passing images were blur and negative. The train of thoughts seemingly halting at the absence of the pieces to the puzzle.

How do I get out of here? 

[eye color] orbs unveiled to search through her surroundings for a way to escape the hellish torment. It was as if the fate was playing a cruel joke with her. Waking up and finding herself tied up with no idea of where she was being sailed to. The growing headache and fatigue did not help either and she found herself helpless in the clutches of a threatening situation. 

But she knew she could not give up.

Not when she is in such situation. 

She had to stay alive. 

She promised--

Promise? 

What did she promise? And to whom? The side of her head stung painfully at the attempt to recall. All she got in the response was a pulsating disturbance clawing her mind which seemed to be not her own at this moment. 

Was it because of the way she was thrown around? Think. What was the last thing she remembered? She remembered...Eyes narrowed hard at the wooden floor. Her numb and fuzzy mind trying to comb through the fog which rolled over her memories. She remembered...a pain. A quick jabbing pain she had when she first passed out but that was it. She had no memory of anything else before or after that until she woke up here.

Where was here? A ship obviously. But how she got here or why was a mystery. When did she get here? Where was she heading? Judging by the rocking motion they were going somewhere. Why was she tied up? Who put her here? Her mind could only come up with blanks. Alright. Never-mind what she couldn't remember. Focus on what she does know. Firstly she was tied up. Secondly she was trapped somewhere. So her first order of business was just focusing on getting out of these shackles. Maybe there was a key somewhere.

Orbs slowly looked around at her surroundings but it was mostly dark except for the occasional lightning strike. Where would there be a ke-

THUD.

Any thought process was halted by the sounds of a loud thud. Followed shortly by more similarly sounded thuds one after another coming closer and closer and closer to the door at the far end of the room where she was.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

The sounds only halted right outside of the door as another lightning flash lit up the room from the tiny round window on the side wall. That to disappeared only to lit up the room again when the wooden door slammed open, revealing a pissed looking man holding a lantern in his hand. He was drenched, head to toe and his hair too sticking to his forehead. The storm seemingly had spat out it's wrath on him-- and his crew-mates as well since two more men soon appeared after him. 

"Sir, the woman is up!" 

"I too can see that, 'zander." Bit the said man as he as completely discarded any attempt to acknowledge the mentioned woman. "Just get the supplies and necessities you need and get back to work." 

"Who...are you? Where am I..?!" She mustered up the courage to question the man who continued to ignore her and look around for something that might fit his needs for the situation beforehand. 

"I'm talking to you!" She cried out again, a scowl plastered on her face which made her reflect on the feeling of the stick-en dried blood-path which has left a trail of red behind on the side of her face down her forehead. "Where am I being taken to?!" 

Her earlier disoriented state mended into the bubbling wrath and rush of adrenaline at the sight of her abductors. The earlier fatigue momentarily forgotten at the wake of anger and disgust.

It was then that the man finally turned around snarling his disgusting yellowed teeth at the girl. The other men momentarily looked up from picking up objects and moving things to look at her. She realized her mistake when the man stomped up to her, each heavy thud with his weight until he stood in front of her. A cry of pain left her mouth as a large hand snatched up the shackles on her wrists and pulled her painfully up into the air towards the snarling face.

"Quiet you stupid wench! Little betrayers like you don't get to talk!"

A hiss left her throat as she winced from the pain. Cracking one eye open just as another crack of lightning lit up his face. Betrayer? What was he talking about?

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid. You're lucky to still be breathing where you lay."

"I'm not laying down!"

....A grin spread across his face. "You're right. My mistake. Lemme fix that."

She cried out as he let her go and with a hard thud landing on the floor at his feet. A bout of rude laughter was right after echoing throughout her already throbbing head and making her clamped her eyes shut. 

Stop it. Stop it. STOP IT!!

The sounds blurring with the storm outside thundered it's way to the mind. Pounding to the point nothing but a blurring blinding ringing in her ears could be heard from the storm or from those that'll be the victims of the bring deep before their very feet.

C R A C K

The world then dipped sideways knocking all to their sides with curses and yells. Thudding along the room from the ship tilting far left. A force from the outside brutally slamming into them from the depths below.

"What was that?!"

"We must've hit a reef or collided with a whale!"

"Get to the-"

CLASH RUMBLE went the thunder and lightning as the ocean claimed.

The ship began to rock from side to side and the temperature dipped to freezing cold in their veins from bodies thudding to and from from the force. Dark clouds obscured the moon. They rocked grimly in the darkness as black as death. The full moon’s light was painted silver, casting down rays of light with a ghostly glow. Underneath the moon, the rain moved towards them ike a veil of doom knitted with pretty lace by the grim reaper's skeletal hands. A ghastly wind yelled and groaned, rippling the surface of the raged ocean.

The heaved and tossed in the rising swell and the shrieks of the men cried out as they slid from side to and from the waves.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Then all light disappeared as the cloaked sky blotted out the light of the moon other than the occasional lightning. She shrieked herself as she slid tumbling in circles as the storm downed out their screams and some force continued to slam against the floor pushing up harder and harder with each slam.

THUD THUD THUD

The floorboards pushed up with each desperate hit. 

THUD THUD THUD

Spiderweb cracks began forming in the creaking wood as it gave way.

T H U D.  T H U D.  T H U D.  

Water began seeping through between the cracks and crevices.

C R A C K!!

Blackened liquid spurted from the opening in the floor. Water rushed out into the new opening as the space was quickly filled. Digits strong, webbed poked through as an arm raised up through the ever growing hole. Wood and splinters washing away from the being pulling itself into the opening it made. Claws ran along the bottom of the ship as they pulled the creature in and a loud hiss escaped it alongside the sounds of rushing water still pouring in around it's form and the storm outside.

C L A S H

Lightning lit up the room illuminating six glowing eyes and a maw of fangs slowly turning around to carefully scan the remains of the wooden ship and the screams of the doomed humans until with a sharp turn they met eye to eye with the frozen woman in the few seconds the lightning lit up the space. Then when darkness once again shrouded everything-

The depths of Tartarus unleashed upon them all.

The rain whipped down like a laughing audience of evil and lightning emblazoned the sky. The waves rose and she shrieked as she felt water rush over her body, scrambling back with the sounds of desperate splashes and clanking shackles. The wind blew and sped them to their doom. 

The ship bobbed like a cork upon the black sea as screams and terror broke out.  The depths hissed and laughed as it eagerly claimed it's victim. The oak wood planks bulged and cracked then creaked and screamed as sharpened blades and claws in unison rectified it's vengeance on the haul, port, mast, and everything making it easy for the storm and sea to do their jobs of drowning the mighty ships.

The ship tipped up and up as a wave pushed it over and she shrieked feeling things fly past her across the slippery floor. Her blunt fingernails and hands desperately clawed and dug along the floor in a desperate attempt to hold on and avoid a watery grave. Panic and fear collided within her mind as she slid down, down, down- 

And then she fell.

She shrieked as she tumbled head over heels over and over again. Until with a splash her screams were silenced by the blackened water swallowing her up whole with the sinking ship in the stormy night.

Mouth opening in a desperate attempt to breathe, only to choke out. Cold liquid pressing down her lungs as she pushed her limbs desperately, yet no leverage was found. The waters pushed her down further into the dark waiting to claim her and feed its hunger. Eyes struggling to remain open as the throbbing ache clawed upon her insides. 

The movement of her form ceased slowly. [eye color] eyes unfocused as blood pounded behind her eyes. Eyelids veiling her gaze as deathly shadows clawed out to grasp her and take her away--

A pale limb, it's being a contrasting mixture of human arm giving rise to a flowing fin emerging from the flesh, embroidered to perfection, wrapped around her waist as the other soon followed after. She felt herself being pulled against something solid and soon the feeling of being pushed upwards met her.

A sharp gasp left her throat as they finally came up to the surface. Air filling her lungs again as her chest heaved up. Soft pants leaving her shivering form--

"Foolish."

A webbed claw reached up to cup the soft flesh of her cheek as her eyes opened to meet the three sets of golden pools surrounded by gleaming red sclera. 

"Foolish of them to try taking away the only thing which kept me sane."

"You, my dear, is something i can never compromise with since you are the sole cure of this sickness."  

"I could never leave. Not when the only thing that you seek is me. Not when you call for me such. Not when you are somewhere you shouldn't be. Not when my arms are the only place you belong." 

The storm seemingly halted as the scattered moonlight fell upon their intertwined forms. It was as if their union was blessed by the heavens above. Yet, the dagger pierced his heart, shattering it into million pieces as it met him in the form of a mere whisper from his beloved.

"Who...are you?"

______________________________________________

Hello lovlies! Finally the book has been updated! The story might seem a bit confusing now but things would clear soon! ;) 

A special thank you to @echantedtoon for the collaboration and help! 

[ilreleonewikiart]

TDIOBCB challenge - day 22:

Aegon and Daenaera's wedding in 136 AC

"The highly anticipated union between Prince Aegon Targaryen and Lady Daenaera Velaryon was a grand spectacle, unparalleled and captivating the hearts of all fortunate enough to bear witness. The Dragonpit, the sole edifice in the entire capital city capable of accommodating the nearly seventy thousand guests, overflowed with exuberance and anticipation as the two young lovers made their entrance. (…) The clamour was momentarily silenced by the resounding roar of a dragon, signifying the arrival of the bridegroom. The world seemed to hold its breath as Crown Prince Aegon Targaryen, adorned in a simple yet regal ensemble of dark blue velvet and golden filigree, strode into the Dragonpit.(…) Innumerable songs and artworks would emerge in the years that followed, all striving to immortalize that precise instant when every soul, from the foremost to the rearmost, pivoted to behold the entrance of the youthful and graceful bride. Nevertheless, words alone proved feeble in capturing the awe-inspiring spectacle that unfolded within those grand walls on that spring morning. The bride, the only child of the late Lady Laena, with her flawless visage adorned with clear, brilliant blue eyes and a cascade of the purest silver hair, appeared as if plucked from the pages of a tome, her very presence an embodiment of beauty.  (…) But it was the magnificent gown she wore, concealed mostly beneath her house's sigil-adorned cloak, that attracted all the bulk of the attention, stirring deep envy and boundless admiration among many a lady and noblewoman. It was clear to all, even the most unrefined, that the gown was an exemplar of craftsmanship and quality; a far cry from the pedestrian attire donned by noblewomen in the countryside, woven from fabrics procured from merchants of dubious repute, in their delusion of appearing as capital ladies. This exquisite creation was hewn from genuine and precious white silk sourced from the distant isle of Leng, wich under the sun's gaze, gleamed with blue and silver hues, akin to summer sea waves. The fabric, inherently precious, was adorned throughout with intricate undulating silver embroideries, reminiscent of the tranquil ebb and flow of ocean tides, a testament to the artistry of Myrish weavers; even the jewellery was of an exceptional nature, forged from the most precious shells, the whitest mother-of-pearl, and the most delicate corals, all procured from the shores of Driftmark, specially presented by her cousin, the Lord, for this momentous occasion. (…) The prince and his princess looked ethereal, as if they were celestial beings brought down to grace the mortal realm. The splendor of the late morning light, filtered through the large oval opening in the center of the colossal stone dome above them, bathed them in a radiant glow, making them shine like stars in the night sky. The mere sight of the kiss they exchanged sent the whole arena into raptures."

 - from TDIOBCB chp 2

(warning: these illustrations are inspired by an AU Divergence and have nothing to do with canon (book or tv show) events and are not meant to be reposted outside of their contest)

[lucius-i-ran]

"I'll give you an in to her."

"I'll give you an in to him."

Now who was giving an in to who and for what?

You see, that july weeked had been infernal. The sun was scorching. Roaring even. Nico could basically hear it screaming in his ears. It was screeching threats of sunburns and headaches. That's was why, initially, the days him and his friends treated themselves to a trip to the secret spot in the Rockaway Beach that Percy had shown them a little more than a year ago, were also the only days Nico would wear colors. Well.. 'colors'. He wore white. He decided to risk a sunstroke and go back to his beloved black linen set when his so called 'firends' started to call him "The Ice Cream Man". He could've just worn red. It had basically the same heat retaining as white. But no. It had to be black. On principle. And no flip-flops. God's forbid. At the cost of turning his converse into hourglasses, Nico di Angelo is a no flip-flop zone. The day Will Solace convinced him to wear flip-flops was the day his father was allowed to smite him down. Of course, if that was ever to happen, Will was coming down with him.

"Nico, you need some vitamin D." Blondie had said to him, behind ridiculously big sunglasses, seeing the equally ridiculously big parasol Piper was so gracefully planting for him. Nico actually tried to stick it in the sand, but the damn thing wouldn't stay put so he just said 'Fuck it' and let it tumble down until a saint would come to his rescue. Piper was a saint. It didn't look like it, but she was also unfathomably strong. Power combo.

"You said that when I didn't wanna eat your ugly, smelly harrings. Which one is it, Solace? The sun or the fish?"

"Nico squeez your brain a little more and try to convey the thought that maybe it can be both, please." Will shook his head and mumbled, like a disappointed mom "This the lack of omega three."

"I like herrings." said Piper, proudly looking at the magnificent work she did with that beach umbrella.

"They stink like.." Nico looked around for something stinky to get his point across "Death."

"You stink of death."

"Yeah but I stink like good death. They stink like death to purtefaction."

Nico remembered Will had voiced something that gave a positive answer to each and every one of the butterflies in his stomach, that appeared every time his lids fluttered and his blond lashes brushed his sunbathed cheeks. He had said to him that it was true. That he smelled like good death. He had said he smelled like death to old age. Death in your sleep. It smelled like the favourite cake your mom used to bake. It smelled like the slightly uncut grass of the park. He had said it made him feel warm, like his mom was taking him from the van to his bed again when he pretended to sleep. It was sweet and nostalgic.

"I like your smell." Will had said.

Nico tried to ignore all his airways closing and choked on a "Whatever you weirdo."

While his two athletically inclined friends were already deep in the shredding waves movement, Nico stayed put, planted right in his hiding spot, following the shadow like cats following the sun through the windows of its home.

"Hey girl." Soothing voice, like mellows and witches, called him from behind.

"Hey Lou." Nico greeted without even trying to unglue his eyes from the sea.

"Enjoying the view?" She chuckled.

And Nico really was.

Not just because of how gently the drops of water seem to lay on Will's perfectly tanned skin. Or just because his muscle moved in this mesmerising dance of tensing and releasing. Or how his hydrophobic hair frizzled a little before getting completely wet, looking like strings of the purest gold in the sun. It wasn't even just for the way his eyes were almost as blue, as intense as the sun lit sky. Bright, almost burning. It was also because Will was generally ungraceful. He was one of the least dexterous people he knew, coordination wise. But there were a few things that gave him the same floating resemblance of a dancer, like when he was in the infirmary, in one of those days where no one has a mortal injury but it is packed. He would glide and sway through the bunks, gifting smiles, tying bandages and giving shots so quickly the patient didn't even have time to cry about the width of the needle. Surfing was one of those things. Nico really wanted to hate how stereotypical it was for him to be a great surfer but it was also one of the few things that could really distract Will and keep his ugly thoughts at bay. And the sight. Nico was never gonna complain about that, that's for sure.

Right, the in.

Nico had caught feeling.

Everyone knew that. Everyone could see it, except maybe Percy and Annabeth but that's because they were at Camp Jupiter and also oblivious to anything concerning Love with the capital L. Everyone had been trying to push Nico towards that Son of the Sun, including Lou who had been distracted by Piper's graceful hop once they mounted off their boards. Of course, the moment Will touched ground, his foot sank in the sand the wrong way and got a mouthful of sand and seashells.

Nico had to channell every lesson the nuns had taught him about poise and sobriety to supress a snort, while Will was still trying to spit out the half shell stuck in his diastema.

"Something funny, Di Angelo?" Will scoweled once he caught up to them.

Nico could hear the gears in his brain steaming and turning, coming up with a revenge for the humiliation, as if him being as graceful as a bull in a ceramic shop was somehow Nico's fault.

Will took a deep breath and, like he had been shot, right in the heart, he planted his sandy kness on th beach towel, right beside Nico's hips. The boy in question got up on his elbows, hoping that his flush could pass as a sunburn. It definitely felt like it.

"What are you-- don't you dare."

Will dared. He let himself fall gently on him, coating Nico with seasalt and sand.

Will was wet and heavy and uncomfortably scratchy but still, Nico had to refrain from relaxing himself completely and hug him. He tried to hold back from absolutely squeezing the life out of him, trying to take in as much warmth as he could. Nico put up an act of annoyance, yelling and thrushing for him to get off and hoping Will could not feel his rushed heart against his chest. One day this boy was gonna give him an heart attack. Just imagine. Cause of death? The most beautiful laugh you've ever heard. The freshest water of a giggle to ease a dry soul. That would be embarrassing. Drowned in smiles. Ugh.

Will turned his head to the side, his wet hair stuck onto Nico's face. He breathed in. Will smelled like sea water and sunscreen, of course, but it merged so blissfully with his coconut shampoo. The staining scent of disinfectant on his skin was immune even to the ever corroding salt of the water. Will smelled like comfort. He smelled like laughter and the color yellow. Freshly picked daisies and the coffee your husband just brewed, for you to drink, still groggy from your slumber, wrapped in your duvet. Will smelled like life; but not any life. Life you desired. The life of your dreams.

He eventually got up on his palms and Nico tried not to dwell too long on that millisecond their mouths were just inches away.

Will had to ruin the moment with his brute-like manners and he shook his head, vigorously, getting droplets of water all over Nico who promptly took his hands to shiled his eyes.

"You asshole!" he groaned

Another high-pitched laugh. Another headlight in Nico's eyes and he prayed for every diety known to man kind, for his face not to turn purple.

"Why is it that every time you get wet, you turn into a dog?" he snarled "It's annoying."

"You know what else is annoying?" Will asked.

Nico wandered if Piper and Lou had bought popcorn yet, since they looked like they were enjoying the show.

"You?"

"Wet clothes."

With an uncharacteristically fast motion, Will tucked an arm under his knees and another one on his back, lifting him bride style and Nico was ready to hurl something at him, like a rock or a tree or the moon, even.

"Put me down, asswipe." He screeched and promptly ignored.

Will sprinted to the water and Nico was sure he was going to break at least one of his bones when his ballerina feet would get stuck in the sand again and he would make both of them plummet to their demise.

"Looks like you don't need an in!" Lou yelled once Will finally stopped in his horse race. She was successfully added to the list of murders Nico had to put in action.

"In for what?"

Nico figured he couldn't possibly add Will's name on that list for the fifth time so he limited himself to answer: "Your skull. Because I'm gonna get in it. With an axe"

A small smile tugged at Will's chapped lips and he stayed silent. Odd. His eyes where as sharp as blades, studying and all-knowing. Nico didn't say a word either, even going as far as holding his breath.

Their noses awfully close, almost gently brushing each other. Nico's lids suddenly felt heavy, like Will was cradling him to sleep. The other's eyes fluttered, making a tiny droplet of water fall from his long eyelashes.

Nico had many flaws but he had a tendency to not give in to delusions. He had seen far to much to do so. And he swore he saw the blue flash of Will's sapphires on his lips. Before Nico could even think of stopping himself from plunging farward and achieving the impossibile (the impossibile being: stealing a kiss from the most precious gem of an angel that ever walked the earth) Will smiled. He smiled with his teeth and his stomach flexed in the bubble of a laugh. Nico could not help but smile by reflex and Will dropped him in the water.

[rosy-crow]

.𖥔 ݁ Binary Stars .𖥔 ݁

A oneshot centered around Sephiroth and Genesis for @altocat as promised. Hope you enjoy, girl! And best of luck in Japan, okay? <3

A brief flash of sequential memories surrounding Genesis that Sephiroth experiences as he reflects on his life from the Edge of Creation. Suggested Song: “Under the Milky Way” - The Church

~

The swirling hues of the cosmos danced together to the everlasting hum of vast existence and the dreams of infinite worlds therein. Glistening stars of purest fire, shades of red, purple, blue, and green, distant bows of light falling through interstellar dust….all of these coalesced and unravelled again….permitting the flow of memories from the past and future to meet and divide again in sequential harmony.

These streams of life and time were as reflective as water in the heavens, thus granting the keen-eyed observer to see what was there to be seen within themselves.

Sephiroth discovered his own river of memory in the sky, marred as it was by discord, and from it, he saw many smaller brooks running down in trickles. The archives of his long lost life. The remnants of his past. The streams of his abandoned nostalgia. With a steady peer into the web of light, he found himself drawn to one singular strain of memory….

A soft red thread of dewey blood that ran straight back to the beginning of a forgotten heartache.

To Genesis.

~

“He’s….well….quite the character….”

”What do you mean?”

Angeal stopped with a sudden intake of breath and folded his sinewy arms to ponder the question as if it were philosophical in nature. His bangs fell like shadows brushing across his eyes before he flipped them aside and looked at Sephiroth, his recently-befriended colleague, with an expression that carried a rare, juvenile uncertainty that he was prone to keep subdued in any other realm of conversation.

”I guess….Genesis is what I would call a spitfire. He’s a bit brash…he kinda has a quick temper…um…” he answered the weary-eyed silver boy, the latter cocking his head and squinting as if confused. A rather quaint trait that was befitting of Sephiroth’s mild manner, Angeal thought.

“I mean, he’s great and he’s still my best friend, don’t get me wrong. He’s just…somehow exactly like you and nothing like you at all. The difference is like…fire and ice maybe?”

Sephiroth hummed to himself and dropped his eyes to the glossy tiles of the SOLDIER floor, spying his keen reflection in the dark surface. He waited, refusing to fidget or betray his impatience. Impatience could imply nervousness. Sephiroth was not nervous. He swore it to himself.

Angeal made a noise in the back of his throat as Genesis’ imminent arrival loomed in all its glory and growing anticipation.

”Uh…you’ll see. Oh and, he has this thing….this dream that’s really important to him…it’s….”

”Angeal!”

The hasty conversation died right then and there.

He was in front of them suddenly, the echo of his call commanding the room to be still.

The fabled “spitfire” was merely a scrawny teen with a fair face and flyaway auburn locks to frame it. A sharp, dandy boy with dancing fires in his eyes and red painting the sweater of his second-class uniform like carmine.

Genesis Rhapsodos was distinguished. Unique. Refreshing. He was a sparkling, crimson flare in a sea of greys and dull blues. A sense of novelty within a world of repetition.

He went on to greet Angeal with a familiar nod before standing in front of Sephiroth with an anxious gnawing on his lower lip and hands that were visibly shaking even as they folded together.

”Hello….” Genesis said. He spoke in a quiet voice that, for the time being, lacked any temperamental qualities.

Sephiroth remained expressionless save for an intrigued lift in his brow. He bowed respectfully, as he had been taught, acknowledging Genesis with the grace he afforded newly assigned teammates, yet also with the skittishness of any young man meeting the friend of a friend for the first time. No amount of formality could suppress the hero’s hemorrhaging humanity.

“I’m Sephiroth. You must be Genesis?” Sephiroth asked in a polite tone, holding back the nervous intrigue in his greeting. He swore to himself still that he was not truly nervous.

But it was undeniable. To Sephiroth, Genesis looked…

Well, he looked “cool.”

“That’s me, yeah,” Genesis cleared his throat and held out a book that he swiftly ripped from the inside of his jacket. The movement was so effortless and fluid that Sephiroth’s eyes grew round and he could have smiled had he not been so confused.

“Would you…be willing to sign this for me…?” Genesis asked, his question timid, the pen he had prepared shaking in his gloved grip. Amusingly, his confident uncloaking of the book had been followed by another shrink in self-assuredness.

“Genesis!!” Angeal glared. He was shaking his head in a scolding manner. “Come on, what did I say?”

Genesis ignored Angeal and bit harder on his lip. His eyes were locked on Sephiroth’s face with the oddest blend of determination and uncertainty that Sephiroth had ever observed. It was bewildering to watch someone temper their cold with heat so expertly, to see them wade through the clammy swamp of anxiety that encompassed the meeting of a famous hero with such fierce impetus. It was admirable, if anything.

Sephiroth silently took the book, which was sweet and brimming with stanzas of pretty words, and proceeded to sign it with his own attempt at resolve in spite of the pooling trepidation in his stomach. Genesis watched, arms folded behind his back, patient and studious. He was unlike any other fan Sephiroth had been made to engage with. One could have noted that Genesis seemed to be more than a fan and rather an individual with the makings of a peer, whether he knew it himself or not.

“I said no signings or stuff like that….,” Angeal said, exasperated. He watched them with repeated, awkward tugs at his hair. “Gen, he gets this all the time.”

“It’s just one book, Angeal. And besides, he did it. So…thank you, Sephiroth.” Genesis failed to hide his grin behind his rusty bangs when Sephiroth handed the book back with a satisfying scrunch of leather gloves. Genesis took one look at the signature and made a high “heh” sound that betrayed immediate amusement.

There was a pause. Sephiroth held his breath.

“Your signature needs work,” Genesis said suddenly and with no regret, studying the sharp pen work that marked the cream-colored page.

Angeal fought back an unexpected laugh.

“Come on!!” he scolded again and gave Genesis a swat on his arm. Genesis smirked, his devilish bravado rearing its head, and ducked away.

Sephiroth felt like someone had thrown a bucket of water at him. He was almost laughing at the comment himself. How peculiar.

“You think so, huh?” Sephiroth was admittedly bemused, and the faintest hint of a smile graced his lips, which in turn caused Angeal to calm down.

“It looks like a scientist’s writing. Too stiff. You need some flare, you know? Think rockstar! Rockstar style…..something that would fit on the face of an album cover,” Genesis explained, showing Sephiroth the book and writing his own name with a practiced, celebrity flourish. “Like that. You’re the hero after all….you have to have a good signature.”

Angeal watched, no words to spare, as Sephiroth considered the advice and rested his chin on a folded hand like an old academic before nodding with firm agreement. “Very well. I don’t know of any rockstars or how they write, so you will have to teach me then. I would rather not write like a scientist.”

That left both Banoran boys reeling.

“What? Really??” Genesis gasped with a quick flush of excitement warming his cheeks. “Did you seriously just say that?”

“Um….well, yes?”

Sephiroth wondered for a flicker of time if it had been the wrong thing to say. What was Genesis saying? Was he surprised at the comment on not knowing any rockstars? Oh dear.

But Genesis swiftly proved any such fears to be absurd. As it turned out, he was simply delighted that Sephiroth was seeking his help.

“Yes! I can teach you!”

The ecstatic thrill of Genesis’ reaction was nearly contagious as he broke into a roguish smile and folded his hands together like a child in eager prayer. Angeal sighed, knowing full well that his red-haired friend was fighting the urge to faint in front of his idol after earning such blatant approval.

Sephiroth only chuckled mildly, relieved, and inclined his head towards the training room to suggest a change of scenery.

“We should train first, but after that, I would like to learn…yes….” he said softly. There was a geniality in his expression that had overcome his nerves. Genesis pounced on it and heartily agreed.

“We…w-we should!! Yeah…uh….yes…..good idea….” he stammered, following along as Sephiroth started towards the entrance. Angeal huffed in blithe contentment and followed along, grateful that the meeting had gone well.

There was no jealousy, no mistrust, no imbalance.

There was only the clumsy innocence of boyish admiration and acceptance. The nervous exchange of youthful approval.

After all, they were only children in those days.

~

The memory was a bittersweet thing. A soft shade of rose in the midst of pooling, inflamed hues of vermillion nebulae. Sephiroth did not scoff at its innocence or naivety. He could not. But he did not linger.

The thread shifted forward through fingers of starlight….and the fraying began to show, but for the time being, it held strong, weaving through past passions and emotions.

Sweeter memories. Thrilling trains of thought.

Fleeting moments of joy….

The stars danced in Sephiroth’s eyes as he caught another glimpse.

~

Genesis was humming for his own ears, as he was wont to do on those clear and star-graced nights in Wutai when he magically refrained from quoting from his darling Loveless. If it was not poetry, it was song that left his lips. He would always find the time to serenade the beauty of life in some form or another.

But then, why was Genesis humming to himself?

Surely, he saw his own person as part of life’s majesty, of course. And who could deny the vanity? The bard with mako irises like robin’s eggs and hair that had darkened to auburn in the evening was, well, quite a vision under the moon’s faithful spotlight. The fragile glow carved out the marble in his pale visage and complimented the gleam of his smile like nothing else could. He was a sculpture most beloved by the goddess he worshipped.

But in that moment, Genesis’ near-perfect allure was faintly marred by a nasty gash across his right ear where a piece of shrapnel had nicked his flesh, tearing through cartilage, the hollow of his cheek, and part of his jawline.

Sephiroth was tending to the injury by hand. He had no more healing materia after the three day campaign that Angeal had led in Wutai’s densest jungles, during which the Emperor’s mightiest forces had been pushed back in fury particularly by the hero and his raging red partner.

Sephiroth, as usual, had emerged unscathed, but Genesis had not been so lucky. The humiliation over his misfortune was written on Genesis’ face, but Sephiroth said nothing as he quietly cleaned the blood from his friend’s jaw and began to stitch each thread of skin back into place.

“I could do this myself if we had a mirror….,”Genesis finally said with a bitter huff. The wind passed between them and drifted into the valley below, where the lights of their encampment glowed with gentle beacons of gold. “Or Angeal could….”

“Why do you assume I care?” Sephiroth asked quickly, his hands steady as a surgeon’s as he stitched.

“Ha. Rude.”

“I mean, why do you assume that I am reluctant to help you?”

Genesis, grasping the query, thought on it for a spell. His pursed his lips and squinted as he felt himself being repaired like a torn doll.

“I don’t want you of all people to need to help me. I don’t want your help,” Genesis finally answered, his response sounding colder than he intended in his embarrassment. He quickened to warm it ever so slightly. “You have enough to deal with.”

Sephiroth paused. He looked at his friend with a firm, pointed stare that made the latter want to shrink into naught but a single atom. The angel’s elysian gaze could have pierced through stone and steel.

“You and Angeal are my first priority on the battlefield. You are my immediate teammates. It’s my job to ensure you both survive and remain fit for combat. I must help if you require it,” Sephiroth said. He returned to his stitching and Genesis released his held breath. He could have laughed at the subtle twinge of indignation in the young hero’s tone.

Sephiroth. Always so serious. Justifying every display of care with duty.

Genesis almost wished he wouldn’t frame it so.

“I suppose….it’s a bit embarrassing….,” Genesis mumbled when he found the courage to do so. His hands shook faintly and he wrung them to conceal the tell. “To stumble…in front of the great hero like that….”

Sephiroth finished his work on Genesis’ wound and leant back, dissatisfied with his own first aid skills. He sighed and looked up again. He was flushed with a blend of vexation and bewilderment thanks to the comment. Genesis almost cackled at the irregular view, but then Sephiroth suddenly reached for Masamune, removed the leather glove from his right hand, and sliced the thick of his palm across the moonlit blade before another word could be spoken.

“What….why would you….?” Genesis sputtered and threw out his arm, astonished and dismayed, his mouth agape in his dramatics.

Sephiroth shook his head and sighed, holding his palm up to display the almost instant healing capabilities that his aberrant body possessed. Genesis observed with awe as the cells seemed to crawl back together, as if craving to be whole again, threading themselves into place, and repairing the pallid skin until Sephiroth’s hand was reconstructed. Perfect, once more. It had taken only five minutes or so.

“How….”

“I’ve been scraped in battle before. Bullets, debris, artillery blasts…..,” Sephiroth explained. He spoke mildly, but held his healed hand with a tentative look and vague tension in his shoulders. He appeared to be lost in distant thought. “My cells are abnormal, as if they have wills of their own…not wanting me to die….”

Sephiroth closed his eyes and smothered a bitter chuckle. There was something ironic in it all.

“But regardless, I’ve likely been wounded far more times than you have. In my early training, it was both common and inevitable with how clumsy I was at the start. Heh.”

Genesis nearly scoffed at the image of Sephiroth stumbling in combat, hardly believing it, but he held his tongue as his friend continued to speak.

“I suppose what I am saying is…,” Sephiroth went on. “I am not impenetrable either. I simply heal faster, so you never see me in the medical tent or asking for assistance. It causes everyone to presume that I’m perfect.”

“Well, you hardly ever put yourself in reckless spots where injury is common either. You follow the rules and only unleash when you know it will be precise,” Genesis retorted, tossing his head. He wasn’t certain of what Sephiroth was trying to say. “In a way that is perfection. Perfect discipline.”

“And you are a loose cannon that doesn’t hold back. It’s bold, but not without benefit. Even if it causes you to sustain these small injuries on occasion,” Sephiroth said. The shape of his breath arose in the cool midnight air as he sighed and lifted his face to the darkling sky overhead, studying the stars. “It’s a balance that is effective on our missions. So….I don’t consider the minuscule consequences to be worthy of humiliation.”

“Is that your way of saying I should stop fussing over this and grow up? Sounds like what Angeal would say” Genesis cackled. He lightly caressed the stitching on his jaw and hissed like an offended housecat when it stung.

“Angeal would want you to hold back to preserve yourself, but I prefer you remain as you are. Like I said, it’s effective,” Sephiroth responded, now smiling. “I don’t ever want you to hold back.”

“With anything” was what Sephiroth wanted to add to the mix of words, but he chose to stop himself. He was saying more than usual. Fortunately, Genesis seemed to be in higher spirits, if not vaguely amused by the effort Sephiroth was putting in to affirm him. It was a rare and relished thing for Genesis to hear Sephiroth praise his abilities at length.

Yet what Genesis would never understand was that Sephiroth wordlessly praised his every breath and proof of existence during all moments of their shared time, as he did Angeal’s. It was in the solitary warrior’s nature to cherish what he dared to allow near his heart. The choice to do so alone was a terrifying, dangerous, and delicate thing that Sephiroth knew could one day lead him down a road dead-ended in grief.

But in those midyears of youth’s passing, he was frequently blinded to such fears, clinging to his comrades as if they were the purest rarities of the earth. Nobody save Sephiroth himself knew of the clandestine depth of his attachment. He understood that it was unnatural, and kept the shame to himself.

“I will always help you, Genesis,” Sephiroth added. There was a tremor in his gentle utterance. “Just don’t hold back.”

There was silence for a minute longer before Genesis broke it.

“Thank you.”

It was all he said.

And it was enough.

Sephiroth bowed his head, saying all with the gesture alone. Genesis’ eyes flickered blue in the glimmer of starlight that waxed and waned with the passage of clouds. The young men sat in mutual serenity, their silhouettes in close proximity, their hearts beating wildly as they each overthought and processed the other’s words.

Time moved on. Moments with similar weight scattered themselves in between the years, but regretfully became few and far even between.

~

The ribbons of light pulsed and dispersed, the train of memory sinking into distorted nets of suffering and affliction. Infrared heat at the core of a violent rending of hearts. The stars clashed and collided, the torrents rushing out into a sea of bloodshed.

Sephiroth’s heart increased in its pace as he forced himself to look into the cosmic storm of ill-fated memories.

It all fell apart.

~

He should have known.

But that didn’t change how badly it hurt, how far into his heart the wound went. Searing, bleeding pain from a gaping hole in his chest that cauterized and throbbed, only to spill out with punishing vengeance all over again at the slightest touch of longing. Dusk till dawn. Every hour of every day.

Ring, ring

Sometimes the pain would numb out of sheer, desperate necessity. The fog would settle in like a sweet mercy. The ache dulled by empty, lifeless, distraction. A survival response. A way out.

A million questions that would be answered by silence. Always silence.

Perhaps the worst part was that there was no one to listen or hear.

Sephiroth was the hero. A savior of those who could never save him, even if they had wanted to.

There was no way to receive. No way to become one with their world.

They would be safe.

They would return to family and feel the warmth of their hearths and homes, welcomed by open hands and kisses, greeted by cherished souls; parents, friends, children, lovers, and even soft, doe-eyed creatures that curled beneath their chairs or in their laps.

Food would await them on aging tables, sweet hopes of changing seasons and holidays would course through their blood, rosy songs and the simple joys of life would grace their days.

And their lives…..their lives would go on.

Sephiroth’s would stay the same.

Ring, ring

All change was temporary for him. He was destined to the cold and sterile repetition of a war machine’s solitary existence. All that could shift was his utility and purpose once the dreamy, idealized Promised Land was dug up from the sleeping earth by Shinra’s mechanical hands. Once it was ripped from the womb of its mother and eaten alive; ravished, brutalized, taken, and used until it was another hollow husk of a blackened crater. Another discarded product of Shinra.

Then they’d come back to Sephiroth with frothing need on their lips. They’d dig his body up from the grave of wires and steel and mako, sending him back into the forests of the world to cut down the way to the next “Promised Land.”

Again and again and again.

There was no true death waiting for him, no true change in scenery once he was decommissioned. No, it would all be the same. A cycle never allowed to be broken.

Ring, ring

But he had wanted to hope….to hope that they could have broken it. That they could have been the ones to save him. Those familiar faces and kind eyes that once understood him.

The ones that bothered to pull him out of the dark when he felt like giving up. The ones that opened their arms as if welcoming him instead of possessing him.

There was no denying it. Sephiroth had hoped.

He had wanted. He had trusted.

And that was what hurt so much — all of it stinging and fresh, acidic poison gushing from the cut across his heart.

He should have known.

Hope was just another lie.

The ringing dragged on and faded.

It was the tenth time he had called Genesis that evening alone. The twentieth time that day. The fiftieth time that week. It must have looked pathetic to whomever it was among the Turks that kept track of his PHS activity.

But Sephiroth hadn’t cared. Every day he tried, and by now, he was convinced Genesis had left his damned PHS in a box somewhere. The rational thought should have stopped him, but it didn’t.

He let himself fall back onto the cold sofa in his private room, lying with his eyes locked on the grey tiles of the roof, fighting the ache by holding the phone close to his chest as if it were a temporary bandage. He listened for any buzz or beep for hours while forcing himself to stay awake. His lids were drooping. He had not slept in a week.

Please come back…

Genesis had gone. Angeal had followed soon after. Angeal’s phone went directly to voicemail when called, which likely meant it was dead or destroyed. There was no use trying it.

Please.

They are going to kill you.

But Genesis…his phone rang. His always rang.

Please.

Did that mean….?

It’s your fault.

Was there a chance that Genesis was ignoring every call with religious diligence?

You hurt him. That was all it took.

What was burning behind his eyes now? Why did everything smart and sting? The ceiling began to blur, and when it warped uneasily, Sephiroth bolted up and gasped with a wet, quivering exhale.

God, the feeling was physical.

It was all hanging by a thread. It always was.

The buttons clicked under Sephiroth’s cold gloves again and the ringing returned with zeal. He steadied his breathing and held a shaky hand just above his brow as if shielding his eyes in shame.

Shinra will kill them. You can’t save them.

Not that it mattered. There was no one there to see or hear.

Stop trying. They don’t care.

It rang for another several moments. His pulse was beating like a war drum inside his skull.

Genesis certainly never did.

Suddenly there was a click. Sephiroth’s heart leapt and he nearly forgot how to speak as he felt his body tense with a visceral intake of breath. He spoke in a stammering, soft plea, hope finding its way into his reddened eyes.

“….Gen……Genesis….?

Silence.

Weak, anxious breathing.

The moment lasted an eternity.

More silence.

“Hello?”

There was a strained, weary sigh on the other end of the call.

“Do not call me anymore.”

Sephiroth’s throat constricted. He could have sworn he choked on his own words as he scrambled to think of something he could say in time. Anything to make Genesis slow down.

Slow down and think. Talk.

Please.

“I’m sorry, Sephiroth.”

“Genesis wai—”

The line went dead with a static buzzing that muffled the sharp, small cry of protest that escaped Sephiroth’s lips.

Being pierced with a dagger to the lungs could not have shaken him so much. The brutal assault of mako in the veins couldn’t compare to the scalding ice that permeated the halls beneath his skin. A churning wave of nausea overcame him and Sephiroth slumped forward in defeat, the PHS falling from his hand. The battle was lost, and he had already predicted so just moments before.

He should have known.

You did this to yourself.

He did know.

To Genesis.

It was all over.

~

Sephiroth paused, glancing down at the starlit stone beneath his boots. He was detached from these memories. Whatever sorrow they carried seemed distant. Fading emotions that he had separated from himself.

But there was an inkling part of his soul that pondered their worth. He mulled it over, trying to understand why even now there was a faint touch of grief betrayed by his pursed lips and trembling fists. These were the memories of someone he used to be. They were inconsequential now.

And yet….

Sephiroth looked up one more time, following the last thread of light that dangled from the network of interlacing rivers, all overlapping and straining in their tension. The single and final stream of memory was crimson as a fresh apple.

Ripe. Raw. Poisoned.

~

“My friend, your desire….is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess!”

Once upon a memory, those words had warmed a frigid, neglected part of Sephiroth’s soul. He recalled standing in the tender sunlight, the wind caressing his skin with gentle whispers, and Genesis’ lilting voice rising through the air as he had shared with his comrades the passion of his cherished play.

Sephiroth found it ironic as he heard the lines of Loveless being directed at him once again.

That day, Genesis had quoted from Act I. They had been at the beginning of the story then. Young and innocent. Possibly even something like friends.

Loveless was a tragedy.

Genesis stood before him in the reactor, half ruined and mad, quoting from Act IV as if expecting Sephiroth’s awaited reply to magically provide the ending to the ancient poem. The red warrior held his head high and proud; smiling, demanding a piece of Sephiroth’s being as a whole. A part of his soul and body. A strip of his flesh. A taste of his perfect, monstrous existence.

A gift, a symbol of reunion after bitter, stark separation. Yes, Genesis wanted the hero to stitch him back together again, to freely provide him with the blood Sephiroth once offered without hesitation many moons before.

Distance had become rejection. Rejection had become betrayal. Betrayal had become violation.

Genesis craved Sephiroth’s soul and strength and fellowship. After everything the raving apostate had done. After everything he had said and left unsaid. After all of the comfortless, silent nights of fear and solitude that he had gifted Sephiroth in kind. After every knifelike word and mocking hiss he had thrown at his old friend with no regard for the hits their bond had already taken.

In Sephiroth’s eyes, Genesis had gleefully torn his old “friend” down to his level before laying the offer out with a sincerity ignorant of the damage it had done by its very suggestion after months and months of heartache.

How endearing. How naive.

Sephiroth winced and ground his jaw. He could feel the anger stirring at long last. He had tolerated enough.

My cells.

My body.

My blood.

Sephiroth looked at Genesis with cold and empty eyes, before looking on the apple in the rotting man’s outstretched hand.

It was dark, purple-poisoned, dying.

My trust.

My affection.

My heart.

He understood now.

That warmth he had seemingly felt in his chest on that day two years prior…..that lulling, sweet tone in Genesis’ voice….it had all been as false as the sunlight and wind in the now-abandoned room where everything first fell into ruin.

A simulation. An illusion.

You only ever wanted what I had.

Genesis had never been different from any of the others. A fan, a rival, a betrayer. His honeyed words coated the unctuous desire to use and to take for his own gain. It was always the same. They were all the same in the end.

What I could give you.

Genesis shouldn’t have dragged his mother into it.

“Whether your words, are lies created to deceive me….

You crossed the line.

“….or the truth I have sought all my life….”

You lied to me.

“It makes no difference….”

What’s done is done.

“You will rot.”

And it still hurts so much.

There was pain in Genesis’ eyes. His brow lifted. His horror surged like a tidal wave swallowing his haggard face. The apple fell to the floor, and Sephiroth turned his back, vanishing into the dark. Genesis would not see him again, and he gagged on the realization as the knife of rejection wedged itself into his broken chest.

Sephiroth did not look back.

Now Genesis knew what it felt like.

~

The memories reached their ruthless end after that. Sephiroth looked away and the chilled air of a sigh left his lungs beneath the galactic swirls.

He thought of the last memory from his far viewpoint, weighing the possibilities of its validity. Lingering. Reconsidering.

The memories preceding it had melded with some of Genesis’ own emotions. There had been glimpses into the other man’s mind. Could that have been a product of the empathy they once tried to harness for each other? Did those memories hold insight into Genesis’ true feelings because of the brief, mutual understanding that had blossomed in days past?

Had it all truly been a lie?

Or had the rift between them prevented Sephiroth from understanding Genesis in the reactor? After all, that memory had only revealed one perspective. A perspective marred and fogged over with bleak hurt. Genesis had no say in that memory. His side of the story was dead and lost.

Sephiroth grit his teeth. He wanted to know now. The truth. The reality.

He didn’t know why he felt the desire now. It was too late. The past was not his to change or understand any longer. Genesis was gone. Missing.

Always missing.

The stars moved on and the red rivers bled into blue, washed over with cool, arctic tears….the burns soothed with numbing, glistering ice. The glimpse had reached its end, taking Genesis away again.

And Sephiroth regretted everything.

~

[milkbobatyun]

love countdown!

pairing: geto x reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: it was the night before he left for okinawa, little did you know how much everything would change.

word count: 1k

a/n: day 2 of angstober !! fun fact: i wrote this at like 12am when i was holidaying in another country a few months ago, so i dont even know what i was thinking, but enjoy. ngl, i would say that this is more pure word vomit that actual content, either way, hope this is ok (;‘• - •`; )for my manga readers, how do we feel about the ending of jjk?

the afternoon before his departure to okinawa, geto had texted you a message.

‘i’m coming to pick you up, we’re going to the beach to watch the sunset.’

you complied, wearing a cure outfit that you deemed was good enough for the weather outside. oh how wrong you were.

when you arrived at the beach, geto brought out a rug for you to sit on together on the sand. you talked about nothing and everything for hours, with you admiring the sun’s brilliant reds and oranges, that reflected on the sea, watching the baby blue tones shift to darker, cooler shades of violet and blue. he watched you, admiring how beautiful you were, wanting to savour every moment with you. after all, they were both jujutsu sorcerers, who knew which moment might be their last?

the sky slowly darkened, pricks of light brightening the dark backdrop of navy in an attempt to light up the sky. the shy moon showed its face to the now sleeping city.

along with the sky’s palette change, the temperature changed too. what once was warmth was now replaced by cold, amplified by the bellowing sea air.

geto noticed your slightly shivering form, deciding to throw off his sweater and engulfing you in it without hesitation.

it brought warmth and comfort to you, along with his familiar scent of sandalwood. you looked so funny in the huge sweater, almost like a toddler wearing their parent’s clothing, geto couldn’t help but laugh. 

‘aren’t you cold though?’ you enquire.

‘no, because your presence, light and smile brings my world warmth. without you, i would merely be a broken man. you make me whole.’

you were both used to saying sappy things, but this unexpected proclamation of love stole your breath away, leaving you with no way to respond.

cupping his cold cheeks in your hands, you reply to his confession in the best way you thought of, a kiss of pure love and adoration.

geto laughed, oh how sweet his laugh was. it was like the chime of bells in the country air, a sound you wanted to embed into a stereo, so you could replay it every moment of the day. it was a sound that brought your heart the purest joy, one that wanted to make you stand at the highest point of the world and proclaim your love for the beautiful, dark haired man called suguru geto.

lapsing in the romantic air, geto grabbed your hands, twirling you around in circles on the sand, dancing together under the watchful gaze of the moon, who admired this pure and beautiful love. it was jealous of the way these two beautiful people moved in sync under its starlight, how they could dance together to a silent melody, only heard by two souls that were soulmates. 

the moon and stars watched over the two lovers as they danced, on and on, until they fell onto the sand in joyous exhaustion, laughing together, their joyful laughs creating a melody only made by two souls in love.

feeling cheeky, geto reached his cold hands into the sleeves of the sweater he claimed he lent you, but the moon, watching from above, knew that it would go to your collection of clothing stolen from your boyfriend.

the moment his freezing hands latched onto your wrist, you were fighting hard to get them off, but you were halfhearted in your attempts, and you knew it was futile.

looking at geto’s grin, he knew he won, so he kept his hands in the warmth of the sweater, leaning his head on your shoulder and gazed at the moon.

"when you miss me, look up at the stars and moon, for they shine for you, my love. look up, and you’ll think of me, for i will be looking at the same moon and stars as you are." he whispered in your ear.

you nodded, and whispered something in his ear.

“when you have something to tell me, but you’re too far away to tell me or message me, tell it to the moon and stars, they will pass on your message to me.”

geto nodded, before pressing a kiss to your head.

the comfortable silence was interrupted by the click and bright flash of a camera.

turning around, the two of you spotted a familiar head of white hair.

“GOJO SATORU!” the two of you yelled in annoyance.

oh. oh shit. time to run.

you sat by the beach, watching the waves lap at the sand. you were bundled in his old sweater, the one he gave you before he left for okinawa.

in your hands, you held the polaroid images that were taken sneakily by gojo. though during the night, when the light was dim, the flash had gone off, alerting the two to their chaotic friend’s presence.

although you had chased him far down the neighbourhood when you discovered him, and yelling at him, you were grateful, grateful that you had these physical memories to remind you of the days in which you were swathed in the comfort of young love.

you stared at the images, the cracks in your heart healing slowly. after all, it takes time to piece yourself together after the sudden loss and disappearance of your other half, the missing piece of your heart. without him, you knew, that you would never be complete again.

sighing, you tore your gaze away from the cherished photos in your hands, staring up at the sky longingly, hoping he knew, wherever he was, that you were keeping your promise, looking at the night sky when you missed him.

little do you know, he was looking up at the stars and moon too, thinking about the one who kept him whole. but now, he was too broken and evil, he thought, too evil for someone as pure as you.

miles apart, yet looking at the same stars and moon, the two halves whispered the words they wished they could tell the other. they whispered it to the moon, praying fervently the moon could pass on their message.

‘i’m sorry, i love you.’

‘i love you, please come back.’

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2024 / づ ♡

[alexanderwales]

Pitchposting: Generation Ship

(Pitchposting is a way of giving away ideas that threaten to grow in my mind until they become draft documents. They are free to a good home, though there's no guarantee that I won't try to write them at some point.)

Alright, hear me out: it's a generation ship, one expected to reach its destination with an entirely new generation of people who never knew the homeland, except instead of being a scifi concept, we're doing it as mundane as possible.

I think this is one of those ideas that only appeals to me because I immediately start thinking about the logistics of it all, and there's something in the mundane, gritty realism that really appeals to me. Mostly I'm worldbuilding and problem solving, trying to get at what it would actually be like for people to have been at sea their entire lives, to have a ship that either needs to endure the waves or be rebuilt as it goes.

I was going to say that this needs to be fantasy, but I guess technically it can be an Alderson Disk or something. An Alderson Disk has a habitable circumference of approximately a billion kilometers, a sailing ship can go maybe eighty miles a day, that's a ballpark of 12.5 million days to circumnavigate the disk, which is 34,000 years. That's a hell of a lot of generations, twice as long as we've had agriculture. (But you could also just have it be a fantasy world that's larger than our own, with a generation ship that was only trying to flee to greener pastures that are a hundred years away.)

The purest version of this story is a world that's just water, to match the void of space. The ship sails, repairs are made from flotsam and jetsam and driftwood from unspecified places, rainwater is caught and put into barrels, pitch is used for patching, fish and kelp are hauled up from the ocean, birds are captured from the sky, and the ship must necessarily endure storms and swells.

I've always felt there was something compelling about constrained living situations, places where everyone knows everyone and you have to make it work because there's absolutely no way out — where you're on a knife's edge because there's only so much preparation you can do. A generation ship needs to think about absolutely all of its needs and how it will deal with the deterioration of all things over time, along with problems that might only crop up once every hundred years, or problems that won't become apparent until long after the ship has left the dock.

Let's say you have a sailing ship the size of one of the largest sailing vessels of the 19th century, a thousand people all told. The families are carefully braided to prevent accidental incest, everyone has their position in life, every master has at least one apprentice but probably more so gout or cancer don't eliminate the last person who knew how to make more pitch.

This is clearly an Idea story, one that starts with a ridiculous premise and then explores it, but one of my favorite things about idea stories is finding the characters and the conflicts within them. For a generation ship, the biggest, most obvious conflict is the conflict between generations: the old people who once knew dry land, the middle generation who will likely die before the destination is reached, and the children who will be the beneficiaries of all this travel.

We have a woman who was born to the sea, who loves the sea, who loves the travel and takes great joy in knowing that she's probably not going to see the end of it until she's ancient. We have the grizzled sailor who's nearly risen to the rank of captain and sees the whole mission as utter foolishness. A boy of thirteen who is obsessed with writing stories about the land they've set off toward and keeps his telescope on the horizon, hoping that the predictions were off, that they're somehow two decades early. A girl of sixteen who doesn't feel suited to the marriage that's planned for her, who is secretly in love with her best friend. A scientist who has been quietly advancing the state of knowledge with every new fish brought up from the deeps.

And then there's the plot, which there are so, so many options for. I would start the novel with simple sailing, a few chapters of the daily routine, the personalities, their petty fights with each other, and the stress of being in the middle of unfathomably deep waters whose depths are only glimpsed when the nets bring up something new. Then ... an island, another ship, sea creatures that have a glimmer of intelligence, a storm that makes the ship limp, spoilage that threatens starvation unless drastic action is taken, a political squabble that might bring all the plans crashing down.

Maybe it's a book about being trapped by the past, or about hanging on by what feels like a delicate thread, or about how systems are fragile and careful thinking and brave leadership are the only things that will get us through.

Mostly I think I want to be a geek about a ship that needs to survive in the ocean for a hundred years, and I do not have the time to write this novel, not when there are so many other novels to write.