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ohwaitimthewriter · 1 year ago

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The Memory Keeper

Chapter 4: Mend.

Pairing: Noa x human!reader

Warnings: None?

Summarize (please I'm so bad at writing these!): A woman, allowed to live as long as the virus keeps running through her body, living on autopilot for 260 years, is going to see her life takes a new turn, finding hope in something that might come to put an end to her wandering.

Words: 3.6k+

A/N: So... My brain did a thing and I just went with it!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper masterlist.

Broken.

It was a simple word. Just a series of sounds combined together. Nothing more and nothing less than the strange association of letters that came to form a particular meaning.

It had been a long time since you'd experienced the devastating impact of a simple word.

Broken.

There was a distant echo to the word.

The frame was broken.

This frame that had been with you for so many years that today your brain no longer knew how to depict the passage of time. It was nothing more than a shadow. A shadow that seemed to stretch on indefinitely, so far away from you that you wondered whether it had a beginning or an end. All that remained was a sensation of emptiness. An emptiness that deepened at the back of your skull, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness of a lost soul. Or rather, was it an ocean? An abyss so deep and vast that the mere idea of plunging into it made you dizzy. It was like walking on the precipice of a canyon, and the fear of heights gripped your stomach every time you dared a brief glance towards that bottomless void.

Every time you looked back, you felt as if you were sinking deeper into the abyss known as time.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

"(Name)!"

You ignored the throaty young voice trying to get your attention. It was the first time in 5 years that you'd found yourself back in the middle of the rubble of an abandoned city, and you'd spotted a building in the distance that looked promising for what you were looking for.

In 5 years, the city had changed drastically. Vegetation had begun to cover the walls of houses and plants of all kinds had invaded any building, standing or not, that crossed your path.

You had to be careful. The asphalt that had once been a heavily trafficked road was cracked all over, creating crevasses that were sometimes invisible because of the flora that had embedded in them.

"(Name) wait! It's dangerous!"

The young ape was doing his best to keep up with you, but you were way ahead of him. So much ahead that he kept losing sight of you as you navigated between the ruins of a recently extinguished human civilization. He congratulated himself on being able to follow your scent, because soon, despite his best efforts, you had disappeared into the meanders of partially collapsed buildings.

You moved deeper into the center of the city and finally came upon the destroyed front of the building you intended to investigate.

You remembered that, at the time, this building was nothing other than a shopping mall and what you were looking for could only be found inside such a structure. This was the third one you'd visited, and if the other two hadn't been a success, you were still holding out hope that this one would be.

You looked around, looking for a clue among the branches and leaves that had covered the walls of the stores that met your expectations. The window fronts were broken and the glass cracked under your weight with every step you took as you ventured further inside the mall.

The hurried footsteps of the ape travelling with you suddenly echoed through the building, and you watched him move from quadruped to biped in a fraction of a second, his eyes wide with curiosity and wariness at this place he had never set foot in before.

There was plenty to admire. The building still stood feverishly on its foundations, and no fewer than 5 floors rose above your heads. The once luminous signs were shaky, sometimes suspended by a single live wire or fallen over, the neon lights forming the letters of the store names broken and detached from their bases. Numerous plants climbed the walls and twisted around stair railings and poles and one tree, a poplar if you remembered the name correctly, had even taken root in the center of the hall.

"What… is that?" The young ape asked, slowly moving closer to you as if to protect himself from the immensity of a place evoking a past that only you had known perfectly.

You were focused on pulling out the stems of a wisteria that had woven itself around a large panel showing the floor plan of the building. As you seemed to be ignoring him, he leaned over the plan, taking advantage of your proximity to gently bump your arm with his slightly bent hand.

The slight pressure he applied to attract your attention had the desired effect, and you ended up meeting his green eyes. A look that kept reminding you of his father.

"A shopping mall." You answered him before focusing again on reading the plan.

He huffed as if in agreement, even though he had no idea what a shopping mall was. He got down on all fours again, deciding it was best to leave you to your business, but he didn't have the heart to venture too far from you either.

It was a world he didn't know very well.

Sure, he'd had all the stories told by Maurice, Rocket and sometimes, when you were willing, by you. But the stories were… stories. It was maybe the first time you'd allowed him to go with you beyond the woods. Maybe because you felt it was time for him to get to know the outside world? Or maybe because he'd grown big enough and strong enough to manage on his own in an unfamiliar environment?

When he watched you, he couldn't help noticing that he wasn't yet as tall as you when he stood on his own two legs. Another year? Less? Before he finally reached your height? He'd learned that his father was a few centimetres taller than you, and from that day on, it had almost become a personal goal for him: to become as big and as imposing as his father, a strong, powerful and reliable ape who could be trusted in all circumstances.

No one had ever forced this goal on him, and no one had ever expected him to be exactly like his father. He'd put this idea into his head all by himself, because he wanted only one thing: to be worthy of his father.

For now, he might still be too young to carry on the legacy, but this was his challenge: to prove that he could embody his father's values with pride.

He suddenly snapped out of his thoughts as you started walking again, beckoning him to follow, and he wasted no time in following in your footsteps, as if he'd become your shadow.

" This way. Come on!"

You took the stairs and, eager to show himself braver than he felt at the moment, Cornelius decided to take the lead, carefully checking that the steps on which you would put your feet would hold your weight. Reaching the second-to-last step, he considered the staircase safe and jumped straight onto the landing, looking back to watch your progress. As you drew closer to the last step, he held out his hand to offer you his assistance, which you might consider useless given the ease with which you were moving, but he offered it anyway out of pure sympathy.

You smiled kindly and accepted, not unexpectedly, slipping your hand into his.

It was a habit. When Cornelius was younger, he'd developed the habit of dragging you with him wherever he went, holding you firmly by the hand. At first, you always had your back bent, having to adapt your posture to his small stature, and even more so when he impatiently ran on all fours to drag you to whatever he absolutely had to show you. Then, as he grew older, you managed to regain an upright posture, and despite the maturity he was gradually gaining right up to the present day, he would always take your hand to guide you to a place he wanted to show you.

He was proud to be able to hold your hand, just as he was proud to have Maurice and Rocket with him to teach him to become an adult ape, a future leader. You who had known his father, as Maurice and Rocket knew him. Being able to hold your hand was like being able to hold his father's hand. A form of continuity that he nurtured.

He asked you for directions in sign language, and after giving them to him, he guided you, keeping the lead.

Cornelius was still young. You could see it in the way he moved. His body was still trying to find a balance between the young ape he was and the adult he was about to become. His shoulders weren't as broad as his father's, and the muscles in his back still lacked strength, but that would soon change. Seeing him take the initiative to guide you through an unfamiliar place made you feel proud of what he was becoming. You knew him well, the unknown had never been his forte, but witnessing him defy the fear that once would have made him hide behind your legs, you could only be proud of him.

The store you were looking for suddenly appeared in front of your eyes and you stopped abruptly, causing a twinge in your shoulder as Cornelius continued forward. You gritted your teeth and the hissing breath you produced stopped Cornelius dead in his tracks.

"There it is!"

You withdrew your hand from his and began to rummage around the room. Cornelius followed your every move, not really knowing what you were so eagerly looking for. He simply felt that you knew exactly what you wanted.

And then, a sigh of joy escaped your mouth and Cornelius came over to crouch right beside you, nuzzling his shoulder against yours for some sort of comfort, he leaned forward slightly to observe what you were holding in your hands.

A strange square object surrounded by a piece of wood, slightly cracked on one corner. While you still held the object in your hands, he traced the outline of the wood to stop at the cracked corner.

"Broken?" he asked.

And you smiled at him, and shrugged.

"We can mend it." You answered, placing the wooden frame in your bag.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You were gone.

Not only had you left the house, Noa had heard you call your horse, and after a few minutes, the pounding of hooves leaving your clearing left him shaken. Raka gave him a quizzical look, but found himself without an answer.

He didn't understand. Had he said or done something wrong? Was it so bad that you decided to leave on horseback at nightfall?

His eyes fell on the blanket. It hid the object of all troubles. He was unsure.

If you'd put that blanket over it, you certainly didn't want him to look.

But on the other hand…

You were gone.

As if to give himself some form of courage, he let out a heavy sigh through his nose, determined to understand what was so precious about this object.

He gently pushed back the blanket. The broken pieces of wood clung to the fabric and fell back onto the transparent plate as they hung slightly in the air, gravity doing its work.

The tinkling drew Raka's attention, and he came closer to peer at Noa tracing the outline of a square shape with his fingers.

Noa picked up an angular piece of wood and noted that the corner was cracked too, then his eyes fell on the transparent plate. He pressed his hand against it, a cool sensation emanating from the object, which also formed a square. Its corners were sharp, and he concluded that the wood was used to protect against cuts.

And then, beneath the transparent plate, there was an image. The half-light didn't bother him and he could make out the silhouette of a… he suddenly grabbed the image from under the plate and pulled it up to his eyes.

An ape.

Noa quickly stepped up to Raka, handing him the image. A strange sensation bubbled in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't decide whether it was simply curiosity or excitement at his discovery.

Noa rushed through his signs, alternating the words "why", "how" and "who" as he addressed Raka. The latter was trying to remain calm in the face of Noa's restlessness, and decided to take the picture and turn his back on him, to protect himself from Noa's insistent gaze.

It hadn't taken Noa long to realize that this ape, whoever he was and wherever he was today, was the reason you'd felt such emotion. However, even if he had understood this, new questions piled up in his head and you became more and more mysterious.

"I've never seen such a thing." Raka stated after pondering the question. "Perhaps, the image of a book?" He asked then. "No." Noa suddenly replied, ignoring the wave of pride he'd felt at having found something Raka didn't know about. He resumed in sign language. "Echo was sad. I could see it. In her eyes."

Raka didn't seem convinced and Noa frowned, almost annoyed by the questioning Raka carried in a simple look at him. He pointed at the image, this time using his voice to make himself heard.

"Important." He began. "More than petals."

He paused, studying the image carefully. The ape looked… strong. Even through a simple piece of paper, Noa recognized that this ape was a powerful leader, like his father.

His father. A thought flashed through Noa's mind and he felt as if he'd forgotten why he'd come this far. A feeling of guilt scratched at the back of his mind, accusing him of taking too long to fulfill the promise he'd made to his father, in front of his gravestone. Noa had to close his eyes for a moment to focus again on the here and now.

"The image of a book." Raka persisted. "Books are too old for her to know."

If Raka was right, the emotion you'd expressed no longer made any sense, and Noa wasn't ready to admit that maybe you really didn't make any sense and were just like every echo he'd ever come across.

" You know them. Why not her, too?" Noa signed.

Raka seemed to ponder the issue for a moment before handing the image back to Noa.

"Human complicated. Tough to know what she knows, or doesn't know." Raka said.

Noa sighed, almost defeated. He was right about that, but he couldn't get his mind off the idea that this object was very important to you and knowing it was broken had triggered an emotion in you, and he had, for some reason that was completely obscure to him, an urge to hold on to that emotion. It might be the only way for him to get what he wanted: to get out of here with your horse.

Raka wanted to wait for you to speak. Noa was done waiting. He looked again at the broken object and wood around him. Maybe if he could fix it, you'd listen to him.

➰➰➰➰➰➰

It had taken you all night and most of the morning.

It had to cease. Those two apes had to leave your house and go back to wherever they came from, so you'd never again have to feel the things they'd awakened by their mere presence.

So you headed south. Beyond the river.

You'd gone south because the only way to see them go was for them to get a horse. You had once again strayed from the endless activities of the lists on your wall. But it had to stop. You were convinced of that. Once they were gone, you could go on with your activities. Once they were gone, you'd find again the ease with which you'd let yourself be carried along by time, and you'd no longer be on the verge of falling off the precipice every evening, in front of Caesar's own eyes.

You had returned just as the sun was reaching its highest point in the sky. A rope perfectly tight around the pommel of your saddle and a mare tied to the end of that rope who had stopped struggling to get back to her herd.

She was wild, but the proximity of your horse comforted her, and as you offered her apples to encourage her forward, she eventually gave in enough to follow you obediently without pulling back.

Once you'd reached your clearing, you untied the rope and tied it around your horse's neck, confident that the mare would stick around. She stayed away from you though, not wanting to be touched yet, and you knew it would take some time. However, you could congratulate yourself on the experience you had gained in the art of making a horse docile before you could train it. A few days, at most, and you could teach her to bear a saddle and bridle without biting. A few more days and she'd be ready to carry a human… an ape, on her back.

After removing your horse's saddle, you let him graze and showed the mare around.

Seeing her following your horse with no fuss made you feel as if you'd finally untied a knot too heavy to bear.

Yes, everything was going to be all right.

You sighed with relief and set off to find the two apes you'd left inside your house the day before.

Ignoring the aching and heavy feeling in your eyes, you pushed open your front door to find only an empty room. The previously loaned blankets lay neatly on your table.

The blankets.

Like a light bulb that's just switched on, your eyes darted to the fireplace and then to the blanket left on the floor, pushed to one side, the frame it previously covered vanished.

Your heart leapt into your ribcage to remind you of its existence, and a feeling of sheer panic rushed through your chest.

No, no, no.

They couldn't have done this. They couldn't have taken it away from you.

You rushed outside and before you could set foot on the threshold of your home, a large hand held you firmly in place before you made hard contact with its owner's massive torso.

Your eyes fluttered up to his green ones, and Noa caught his first glimpse of fear in the depths of your irises. He watched you while you no longer seemed to know where you were because of the sudden encounter, and when he saw in your eyes that you were coming back to your senses, he let his hand fall back along his body.

One step back.

You needed to find a space… less shared with his own, and you decided to take another step backwards.

Words tried to form on the tip of your tongue, urging you to ask him what he'd done with your frame, but these words quickly fell into the void of silence as Noa slowly handed you your frame, which he held delicately in his second hand.

You found yourself lacking the words that had rushed to you as your brain tried to put the pieces of the puzzle back together again.

You blinked once.

Then twice.

Then three times.

But no, you weren't dreaming, the broken frame you'd left under your blanket had come back to you in one piece.

Noa felt you were suddenly… overwhelmed. Your usually lifeless gaze seemed to find its way back to life, with a wave of emotion that you were obviously having trouble sorting out in your mind.

So he had seen sadness and fear, and now he saw a tide of relief rising in your eyes until it formed the first drops in the corner of them. But you were like… frozen. You looked at the square object in his hand as if suddenly you had no right to touch it, even though it belonged to you.

And then you looked at him, almost encouraging him to say something before you crumbled.

"Fixed." Noa almost whispered, letting his husky voice trail off as softly as possible, as if he didn't want to break anything inside of you, and he carried on, using his free hand to show himself, almost proud of what he'd just accomplished, silently telling you " me, I fixed it".

You couldn't help but look at him, letting him probe everything that came to your mind, as if to silently thank him for saving you from forgetting. Tears forming beads of rain on the edge of your eyelids, you signed back, revealing your relative knowledge of sign language in the process.

"Thank you."

A tear rolled down your cheek, and the overwhelming emotion you offered Noa gave him enough courage to ask you one of the questions running through his mind.

"The image… who is it?"

Noa felt as if an eternity had just passed in silence as you pondered revealing his name. Did you have to tell him his name?

You gently slid your fingers around the frame, which had regained a youthful shape, and Noa almost felt like holding it back to force you to tell him who this ape was, but he didn't need to, your voice rising in a faint note.

"His name was…" You started, swallowing hard in anticipation of the emotion that awaited you around the corner. "His name was Caesar."

And this was surely the first time, after years and years, that you'd uttered his name to introduce him to someone else.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Tags list:

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@katzykat

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@analuw

#planet of the apes #kingdom of the planet of the apes #noa x human reader #pota noa #noa x reader #pota #kotpota #planet of the apes x reader

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bbnibini · 2 years ago

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A/N: I wanted to do something I hadn't done before. c: This story is a continuing narrative; all themes for the following days are interconnected and are meant to depict one scene. Thank you so much to @impish-ivy for holding this event! (warning: character death; rapid flashing images) P.S. I like writing Solomon in 2nd POV because it's so much fun to "get into his head".

“Live.”

They vanish before your eyes.

...and you get to say only a word to them—a word not enough to convey everything you felt; beneath the lightheadedness and the cold air making you shiver as seawater splashes on your feet, you sink, your knees giving out; pain absent in your sensations as the sharp blade plunges further into your flesh. You did not feel anything. Only drowsiness, but you could should not sleep. Not when the stars dotting the night sky reminded you of their eyes. Not when you can finally see it in all its fleeting beauty with the absence of rain.

Seawater entered your ears; your back cold from wet sand. Your eyes stung as waves occasionally hit your face, but you were too tired to walk. 'Maybe later', you thought. Much, much later, when nostalgia couldn’t keep you away from your thoughts anymore. When was the last time you pointed your fingers upwards and connected constellations in the air? Why would you even remember the way they compared your eyes to the night sky now? Why now?

You could not even promise them the stars. It had been another practical joke from the heavens above–when the view was so breathtaking but you had no one to share it with, and there was no downpour to blame for your misfortune. How blessed you are indeed.

You discarded the name He had given you yet his own brand of “parental affection” was as self-serving as it always was. No, you'd rather not think of Him. Not now. Not ever. You decided to focus on what you were feeling instead. The cold seawater. The disintegrating seafoam. The lulling sound of waves hitting your face. The ocean you hated so much. There was beauty in it perhaps—to return to where you came from when your candle is flickering, and the wick that holds its flames is on its very last threads.

You could feel yourself sinking into the sand as the tides carried you back and forth, your vision faltering.

The Big Dipper with two “handles”. Three. Two. Four. You squinted your eyes and finally saw only one.

Saturn on Sagittarius. The morning star in midnight- Aurora Borealis in painted in tropical canvas-no. That can't be. Then, you realised and laughed.

The false sky showed you more impossibilities, perhaps as a way to comfort you. The world in your failing vision is crumbling as much as you were, but it was a great comfort to know that only you got to witness its very last moments. Your sacrifice wasn't in vain. They, after all, lived.

Just like you wished.

Just like you hoped.

Just like you dreamed. .. . . . . .

It should have hurt, but you opened your eyes again, got up, summoned the last ounce of strength you had and kept walking.

----> next

#9daysofsolomon #9 days of solomon #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me solomon #shall we date obey me #sorry if I didn't post it in time. I wanted to draw my own chibi solomon for the banner #wc meant i had to teach myself to draw lmao

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sparrow-mask22 · 1 year ago

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The Umbrella Academy Story of The Mothers (3/6) sparrow edition: Carla

TW: childbirth, mentions of an orca attack, mentions of death, injuries from orca attack.

another thing to note is that this story takes place at Loro Parque and SeaWorld is mentioned as well, I do not support the abuse they inflict on their animals or the dangers they’ve put their employees in.

on another note the following quote: "Carla, art thou crazy!? These are orcas! They are not puppies; they are the ocean's most feared apex predators! What art thou doing? We command thee to come out of the water this instant!" is originally from a fanfic I read on fimfiction.net that I thought was so funny I incorporated it here, no disrespect to the original author. The fic is called "A Heart Like the Sea" for anyone interested

Also, any and all information I have on Loro Parque is from the Blackfish documentary on Netflix

October 1, 1989. Puerto de la Cruz on Tenerife, Spain. 19 seconds before noon.

Carla Abasolo was a 24-year-old orca trainer at Loro Parque, a popular animal theme park in Tenerife, Spain. She had always been fascinated by marine mammals and had dreamed of working with them since she was a little girl. Today was no exception as she arrived at work, her excitement palpable. As she walked through the park, she could hear the sounds of the animals, the laughter of children, and the splashes of water from the various pools and exhibits. The air was filled with a mix of salt and chlorine, and the warmth of the sun on her skin made it feel like she was on a never-ending vacation.

(If any of you can guess the reference behind her name, I'll be quite impressed. It's not something super obvious, but it's something that means a lot to me.)

Carla had performed with the orcas several times before, but today was different. Today, she felt a special connection with the lead female, whom she had named Kailani. Kailani was a stunning creature, with a sleek black body and a distinctive white patch above her eye. She moved gracefully through the water, her powerful tail flukes propelling her forward with ease. As Carla approached the pool, she could see Kailani swimming back and forth, her eye occasionally meeting Carla's, as if she knew something was about to happen.

Carla gently placed her foot on and off Kailani's rostrum as they glided across the water, the orca's powerful muscles carrying them effortlessly. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her back and the spray of the water against her face. It was a surreal experience, being so close to such a magnificent creature. Kailani was more than just an animal to her; she was a friend, a confidante, a partner. They had spent countless hours together, training and playing, and Carla had come to understand the orca's language, her body language and vocalizations.

It was a great job. Not counting the occasional orca that had gone rogue and had to be put down, of course. But even then, the animals were still so fascinating, so awe-inspiring, that Carla couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence and respect for them. She knew that Kailani, with her intelligence and grace, was something truly special.

They continued to swim together, their movements fluid and effortless. Carla could feel Kailani's strength beneath her, and she marveled at the orca's ability to control her own body in the water. They rose and fell together, cresting the waves and plunging back down into the depths. The sun beat down on them, and the air was filled with the scent of salt and seaweed.

Carla's superior, Miguel, approached her with a worried expression. "Carla, I need to talk to you. I don't think it's safe for you to continue swimming with Kailani after what happened at SeaWorld. An orca killed one of its trainers, and I can't afford to lose another staff member."

Carla felt her heart sink. She knew that Kailani was different, that she wouldn't hurt her, but the thought of being kept away from the beautiful orca was unbearable. "But Kailani would never hurt me, Miguel. She knows I'm her friend. We've been through so much together. She wouldn't--"

Miguel cut her off, his expression unyielding. "I understand that you think you know her, but we can't take that chance. We have to put safety first. You can still work with Kailani, just not in the water. You're too important to lose." Carla felt a lump forming in her throat as she struggled to find the words to convince him.

Kailani, sensing the tension between them, swam closer to Carla, nudging her gently with her rostrum. The orca's large, intelligent eyes seemed to plead with her to intervene. Carla reached out and stroked the soft skin beneath Kailani's chin, feeling the powerful muscles beneath her hand. She knew that Kailani would never intentionally hurt her.

"You’ll have to start relying on verbal commands more, Carla," Miguel said, his voice tense but understanding. "We can't afford for anything like that to happen here." He gestured to Kailani, who was still swimming calmly beside them. "You've always had a special bond with her, but we can't take that bond for granted. Not anymore."

Carla felt the weight of his words, but she couldn't bring herself to pull away from Kailani. The orca seemed to sense her distress, and she swam closer, nudging her gently with her rostrum. The touch was reassuring, almost comforting.

"Kailani and I have been through so much together," Carla said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We understand each other. I know she would never hurt me."

Miguel sighed, his expression softening slightly. "I understand that you feel that way, but I can't take the risk. We need to prioritize safety for everyone involved." He gestured toward the pool, where Kailani continued to swim gracefully, her dorsal fin cutting through the water with ease. "You're too important to lose, Carla. You're the heart and soul of this project."

Carla felt a lump form in her throat, but she forced herself to nod in agreement. She knew that Miguel was only looking out for her, and for the well-being of the entire team. She just wished there was some other way to keep them all safe. As she watched Kailani swim away from her, a pang of loss shot through her chest.

Paloma, a senior trainer at the Sea Life Park, spoke up, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. "Carla, I know this must be hard for you. We all feel for you, but Miguel is right. We can't take any chances. We have to prioritize safety, not just for you but for Kailani too." She gestured to the orca, who was still swimming nearby, her movements fluid and graceful. "You've been through so much together, and you've built an incredible bond. But we can't forget that Kailani is a wild animal, and she has the strength and power to hurt us if she feels threatened."

Carla nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Kailani. "I know," she said softly. "But I can't help but feel like I'm losing a part of myself if I can't swim with her anymore." She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. "It's like being apart from my best friend."

Paloma immediately got her serious voice on. "Carla, art thou crazy!? These are orcas! They are not puppies; they are the ocean's most feared apex predators! What art thou doing? We command thee to come out of the water this instant!"

Carla sighed, feeling a mix of annoyance and amusement at Paloma's dramatic tone. "I'm just trying to understand Kailani," she explained, her voice shaky. "I know she wouldn't hurt me."

Paloma took off her boot and rolled up her pant leg, revealing her entire calf covered in a network of scars. "See this?" she asked, pointing to a particularly deep gash. "This is what happens when you get too close to one of these creatures. I was just a young trainer on my first day, and Kailani's father, Rorke, took a dislike to me. He bit me like I was nothing but a piece of fish. If it weren't for Miguel and the rest of the team, I would have bled out right there in the pool." Her voice hardened, and her eyes flashed with anger. "You think you know Kailani? You think you understand her? You're wrong. These are wild animals, and they can turn on you in an instant. You can never trust them."

(Please keep in mind, all of the orcas at Loro Parque are trained using SeaWorld's controversial behavior modification techniques, so SeaWorld is responsible for any aggressive or protective behavior they exhibit.)

Carla looked horrified at the sight of Paloma's injury, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. "I-I'm sorry, Paloma. I didn't know..." she stammered.

"Well, now you know," Paloma said harshly, pulling her leg back and refastening her boot. "And you should remember that every time you step into that pool with Kailani." She turned away from Carla, her shoulders slumping slightly as she realized the impact of her words.

Three other trainers, Lola, Esperanza, and Yolanda, rushed forward once they caught wind of the confrontation. They were all in their mid-twenties, and they had been working with the orcas for several years. Each of them had their own stories to tell about the dangers of getting too close to these animals.

"Paloma, you shouldn't have said all that," Lola chided, placing a comforting hand on Carla's shoulder. "Carla knows the risks, and she's been trained just as well as the rest of us. We need to trust that she knows what she's doing."

Esperanza nodded in agreement. "Yes, and we can't forget that Kailani has been with Carla since she was a pup. They have a special bond, and I trust that Carla knows how to handle her." She put her arm around Carla's shoulders, offering her support. "Besides, we're all here for you, aren't we?"

"Of course we are," Yolanda added. "We've got your back, no matter what. But we also need to make sure that everyone is safe, especially when it comes to working with these animals. They can be unpredictable, even with their trainers who they trust the most."

Hearing Esperanza defend Kailani and her bond with Carla, Paloma's expression softened slightly. She knew that Esperanza had lost her fiancé, Pedro, just a month ago in an orca attack. The whole park was still reeling from the tragedy. The accident had happened during a performance when one of the older males, Ragnarok, had suddenly turned on Pedro, dragging him under the water and drowning him before anyone could intervene.

"Look, I'm not trying to scare Carla off or anything," Paloma said, her voice gentler now. "I just want her to be safe. We've all seen what these animals are capable of, and we can't forget that." She gestured to the scar on her leg. "I know firsthand how quickly they can strike, and how deep those wounds can go."

Lola nodded in understanding. "Of course we want Carla to be safe, but we also need to trust in her abilities. Kailani trusts Carla, and that's why they work so well together. Carla knows when Kailani is feeling playful or protective, and she knows how to respond to those emotions. It's a delicate balance, but they have it down pat."

Suddenly, Carla's hand flew to her stomach and she gasped in pain. Her face contorted with agony as she doubled over, clutching her midsection. The other trainers, Esperanza and Yolanda, rushed to her side, their eyes wide with concern. "Carla! What's wrong?" they cried.

As they tried to support her, Carla stumbled forward, her legs giving way beneath her. She collapsed to the ground, still clutching her stomach in agony. "I...I don't know...It could be cramps or something...But it feels so real..." she gasped, tears streaming down her face.

Esperanza and Yolanda exchanged worried glances. They knew that Carla wasn't prone to cramps, especially not this severe. Something was definitely wrong. "Carla, sweetie," Esperanza said gently, her voice trembling with concern. "Do you think you might be pregnant?"

Carla's eyes widened in shock. "Pregnant? No...I don't think so..." she managed to stammer. "I’m on the pill...I would know, right?" But even as she said the words, a sliver of doubt crept into her mind. Maybe she had missed a dose or something. She didn't want to believe it, but the possibility that she could be pregnant sent a wave of panic through her.

"Carla, sweetie, you need to get checked out," Esperanza insisted, her voice firm but gentle. "Just to be safe. We can't take any chances with your health, or with the baby's."

Lola and Paloma exchanged glances, their faces pale. They knew that if Carla was pregnant, it would be a huge scandal for the park. And if she was giving birth right there, in the middle of the orca exhibit, it would be a disaster.

Kailani, who had previously been swimming casually in the pool, immediately sensed the change in the atmosphere. She began wailing loudly, her voice echoing through the water and filling the air with a haunting melody. The other orcas in the pool reacted instinctively, gathering around Carla in a protective semicircle. Their massive bodies pressed against her, creating a barrier between her and the onlookers. The trainers, frozen in shock, watched as Carla's pants grew sodden with amniotic fluid.

Paloma, who was already a proud single mom of eight (and wouldn’t let anyone forget it), started to assess the situation. "Esperanza, go get the medical kit from the supply room. Hurry!" she ordered, her voice authoritative. "The rest of you, stay with Carla and keep her calm. Lola, help me support her legs."

"What about Kailani?" Yolanda asked, her voice trembling. "She could be in danger too." It was true; Kailani was the largest orca in the park, and her bond with Carla was unmistakable. If anything happened to Carla, there was a chance that Kailani might react violently.

"Take the chain off Tonga's gate," Paloma ordered, her voice firm but gentle. "She's more dominant than Kailani, and if she sees her coming in, it'll give Kailani the precursor that Tonga's here. It might help calm her down a bit." Yolanda nodded, hurrying to obey, her movements graceful despite the urgency of the situation.

The situation with Carla was growing more dire by the second. Esperanza returned with the medical kit, and they quickly set about trying to stabilize Carla. Paloma knelt beside her, carefully inspecting her for any signs of distress. "Carla, sweetie, can you hear me?" she asked, her voice soft and reassuring. "You're doing great, just try to stay calm and focus on your breathing."

Tonga, the park's most dominant and largest orca, resided in a separate pool. As Yolanda unlocked the gate and removed the chain from Tonga's gate, she glanced back at Carla and the others. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was really a good idea to release Tonga into the same pool as Kailani. But Paloma reassured her with a nod, and Yolanda knew she had to trust her judgment.

With a deep breath, Yolanda opened the gate, revealing Tonga's massive form in the adjacent pool. Kailani, who had been swimming restlessly, immediately sensed the presence of her elder. Her posture relaxed, and her movements became more fluid. She glided toward Tonga, her massive tail splashing softly against the water's surface.

As Tonga swam closer, Kailani moved to meet her, their bodies pressing against each other in a display of affection and respect. The other orcas in the pool watched intently, their expressions shifting from fear to curiosity as they observed the interaction between the two matriarchs.

Meanwhile, as the other trainers continued to assess Carla's condition and comfort her, they could not help but marvel at the miracle that was taking place right before their eyes. The amniotic fluid that had been pooling around Carla's pants now shimmered in the sunlight, and the unmistakable shape of a tiny, wriggling form could be seen beneath the surface. It was a baby boy, and he was alive and healthy.

"That’s your baby, Carla," Esperanza whispered, her voice filled with awe as she cradled the newborn in her arms. The baby boy, still connected to his mother by the umbilical cord, let out a tiny cry. The sound was barely audible above the rushing water and the excited chatter of the orcas surrounding them.

Kailani, still pressed against Tonga, turned her head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of the new arrival. Her eyes widened in wonder, and she let out a low, throaty grunt that seemed to echo throughout the pool. The other orcas followed suit, their attention shifting from Tonga and Kailani to the tiny figure in Esperanza's arms.

The ambulance arrived within minutes, its siren wailing as it raced through the park. Paloma and Esperanza helped Carla out of the pool, wrapping her in a warm towel as she shivered from the cold. Yolanda, meanwhile, remained at Carla's side, watching anxiously as the paramedics checked her vitals and tended to the newborn. The baby boy, still connected to his mother by the umbilical cord, was handed over to the paramedics for examination.

At the hospital, the staff was amazed by Carla's miraculous story. They had never seen anything like it: a woman giving birth to a healthy baby boy, fully formed and alive, while swimming with killer whales. The neonatal unit was abuzz with activity as they checked the baby's vitals and ran tests. The baby's APGAR scores were through the roof, indicating excellent health.

Paloma and Yolanda went to visit Carla and her baby in the hospital the next day. The baby was doing well, and the doctors were amazed by his resilience. Carla was recovering quickly as well, thanks to the quick thinking of the Loro Parque staff. As they sat in the waiting room, Paloma couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and awe.

"It's incredible, Carla," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "You and your baby are both doing great. I can't believe you made it through that ordeal."

The nurse glanced over her shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "There's someone here to see you, Carla. They've been waiting for hours. They wanted to be the first to see you and your little one."

A dapper rich old man, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back, his eyes sparkling with excitement and tears, hurried into the room. He was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his cane clicking against the floor as he made his way over to Carla's bedside. Paloma and Yolanda exchanged puzzled glances as the old man skidded to a halt, his hands trembling visibly.

"Hello Miss Abasolo," the old man said, taking her hand gently in his. "My name is Reginald Hargreeves, and I am here to adopt your precious little boy."

Reginald nodded eagerly, "Of course. Whatever needs to be done, I'm more than willing." He glanced back at Carla, his eyes filled with genuine care and compassion. "You've given this little one a wonderful gift, you know. And I promise to give him the best life possible. He'll never want for anything."

Paloma and Yolanda exchanged a look of relief. They knew how hard it must have been for Carla to make this decision, and they were grateful that someone as kind and loving as Reginald had stepped forward.

Reginald nodded understandingly. "Oh, I assure you, Miss Abasolo. Your son will never want for anything. I have a large family myself, and we'd all be delighted to welcome him with open arms. He'll have a loving mother (Are you referring to Grace when you mean that?) and a loving father, siblings to play with, and a talking monkey named Reggie who can't seem to stay out of trouble." He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving Carla's face. "He'll have everything he needs."

Carla bit her lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "That sounds perfect. More than perfect, really." She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "I just want him to know that I did the best I could. That I loved him with all my heart, and I never gave up on him."

Reginald nodded solemnly, his expression sympathetic. "Oh, I'm sure he'll understand that, Miss Abasolo. And you can rest assured that I'll make sure he knows the truth about his birth parents. He'll grow up with the knowledge that he was loved, even if he couldn't be with you."

Carla bit her lip, her eyes welling up with tears again. "Thank you, Mr. Reginald. That means so much to me." She swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure. "I just want him to have a good life. To be happy, and to know that he's loved."

Reginald’s tone shifted slightly as he looked Carla in the eye, his expression serious. "Now, Miss Abasolo, I want you to know that I understand how hard this must be for you. But it's important that you don't try to contact your son or talk about him to anyone. You'll only get in trouble, and we don't want that. Do you understand?"

Yolanda and Paloma listened to Reginald and Carla's exchange with bated breath. “Well that sounds mildly threatening, Mr. Reginald, but I suppose we should be grateful that you're being honest with Carla about the situation," Paloma said, her tone lightening the mood somewhat. "I mean, we wouldn't want her to have any false hopes or anything."

Reginald smiled sympathetically at the young woman. "No, of course not. I just want to make sure that Carla understands the gravity of the situation. It's not my intention to be threatening, but I need to make sure that she knows what she's getting into."

Carla nodded, her eyes red from tears. "I understand. I don't want to get anyone in trouble. I just want to know that he's okay."

Reginald patted her shoulder gently. "I promise you, Miss Abasolo, that your son will be well taken care of. He'll grow up in a loving home with people who will cherish him as their own. And as he gets older, I'll make sure he knows the truth about his parents. You'll always be a part of his life, even if it's from a distance."

And with that, Carla's heart broke a little more. As she nodded in understanding, she felt a strange mixture of relief and despair wash over her. Relief that at least someone cared enough about her son to protect him, and despair that she would never be able to see him, hold him, or know how he was faring in this world. The weight of Reginald's words settled heavily on her shoulders, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

Yolanda and Paloma exchanged glances, their expressions mirroring the confusion and sadness that Carla was feeling. They knew that what Reginald had said was true, but hearing it out loud made it all the more real. They wanted to offer some sort of comfort, but didn't know how.

#the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #tua #no beta we die like the sparrows #canon divergent au #the umbrella academy story of the mothers #canon divergence #loro parque #alphonso hargreeves #cetacean welfare #orca

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windy-trickster · 1 year ago

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Destination: The Temple of The Moon

Waves crashed against the ship of one Tsubuu Kanari as she, alongside her new friend, were setting sail towards the darkest part of the Alternian ocean. The Abyssal Zone was known to be the most dangerous part of the Alternian ocean, a place that only the bravest [or the stupidest] would travel to. Some searched for riches, others searched for the glory of being known as a survivor. Dangerous monsters swam deep within the waters, waiting idly for unsuspecting prey to wave overhead before being snatched up, never to be seen again.

But Tsubuu knew what she was doing, and also had the help of a Abyssaldweller, Mori Gymnos. Now you’re probably wondering, why is Tsubuu all the way out here? Any seafaring troll would KNOW that risking an adventure to the Abyssal Zone would be a surefire way of getting oneself killed. She wasn’t here for riches nor for glory. She was here to meet a certain someone. A former queen of the now ruined Abyssal Homelands. And this woman just so happened to be the older sister of Mori. Tsubuu had to first earn Mori’s trust which gave way for the Abyssdweller to join her on this adventure to seek out The Temple of The Moon where this so-called former queen currently resided.

“~ We shoOould be there reeeeeeal soOooOon! We goOotta make sure we get toOo the exact spoOot soOo the trip doOownwards woOon’t be awful!” Mori chirped happily as they trotted around the top of the ship, smiling as their fins wiggled. Tsubuu just watched for a moment before going back to steering the ship with a soft click of her tongue. Mori’s said that several times by now, where in the world could the exact spot even be? The oceans only seemed to be getting darker and darker, surely they would’ve been-

“~ There! There! I see the spoOot!” Tsubuu’s attention was pulled from her thoughts as she was able to lower the sails quickly, causing the ship to settle with the gently rocking of the waves. Mori rushed over to the side of the boat and hung themselves over the side, their fins waving happily as they waved over the other. Tsubuu took a moment to anchor the ship before approaching the excitable seadweller. Mori’s high energy was draining Tsubuu quite a bit, although she kept her mouth shut. She did NEED Mori after all to get to this woman after all. She hadn’t the foggiest idea where Nyxine could be inside of this massive ocean. So with a soft sigh through her nose, she jumped over the side of the ship alongside Mori and plunged into the depths of the ocean.

The Abyssal Zone was a different kind of darkness, one that was a struggle for Tsubuu to traverse if not for the glowing, bioluminescent light of Mori’s freckles. Tsubuu squinted, desperate to keep up with the other seadweller as they dived further into the murky depths. All sorts of sounds surrounded the two seadwellers. Bellowing growls and gurgles of unknown monsters that lurked around every corner. Tsubuu had been told before the trip by Mori to stay CLOSE to their side, to not stray far away from them lest she wishes to be trapped within the clutches of some multi-limbed abomination. Something she really DIDN��T want to happen, so she stuck close to the other seadweller until they finally reached their destination.

A massive, Victorian styled temple was hidden deep within the depths of the ocean. Dark pillars with invasive underwater plants curling around them, remnants of gold and silver platting that have since been eroded away could be seen alongside a massive statue of some Goddess, the moon held tightly within her arms. A dilapidated black iron gate was surrounding the temple, some of the bars having long since broken apart and vanished within the sands below. It was massive, it was stunning but it was also haunting, thinking about how it once was this imposing place of worship before sinking down to the bottom of the Abyssal Zone.

Tsubuu, through squinted eyes, looked upon the temple in awe. What happened to cause this glorious structure to sink into the depths was a mystery, and it would remain a mystery for now as her attention was brought back to reality. “~ C’moOon Tsu! She’s noOot goOonna coOome oOout! SoOo we goOotta goOo in!” Mori smiled as they swam towards the structure with Tsubuu in tow. Mori floated in front of the double doors of the temple, grabbing at their withered handles and with one swift motion, pulled the doors wide open as the two were sucked in and dropped out into some main chamber area, the same statue of the Goddess cradling the moon from outside stood front and center. Tsubuu, standing up from her spot on the floor, looked towards where the doors were and was shocked to see they were gone.

“where did the doors go…” Her voice, like always, trailing off slightly as she glanced towards Mori who was happily walking away and making a vague “Come here” motion with their hand. Tsubuu sighed while trailing after Mori, another mystery for another night she supposes. The pair traveled through long winding corridors until they reached a thing of spiral stairs, Mori waving for Tsubuu to follow them up it. The stairs seemed to go on forever, winding and twirling upwards until they reached a short hallway that led to one room. It was a respiteblock.

Mori skipped up to the door, knocking three times and no more before stepping back with a smile. Rustling came from behind the door as a pair of footsteps approached, soon enough the woman of the hour opened the door, staring at the two of them. There she was, Nyxine Moneta, the former queen of the Abyssal Homelands in the flesh. Tsubuu watched as Mori stepped back with a smile on their face, gesturing vaguely towards their older sister. Tsubuu looked back at Nyxine and moved forward, getting down on one knee while looking up at her. “hello, your majesty… It’s my pleasure to finally meet you…” She took the Violetblood’s hand and gently kissed her knuckle to show her respect to a former queen. Nyxine hummed softly before pulling her hand away, crossing her arms over her chest.

“<ome inside. Both of you.” Nyxine turned and walked into the respiteblock without another room, Tsubuu and Mori following after her as the door closed behind them.

Tsubuu - @knavestrolls

#homestuck #hiveswap #fantroll #pirate princess #nyxine moneta #morphe gymnos #payment writing #windy writes

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seaspraycd · 1 year ago

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ｄｒｏｗｎ．ｄｒｏｗｎ．ｄｒｏｗｎ．

ronan harris hadn't felt the touch of death until tonight and it came for him twice. perhaps because it was the dominion of kieran's, a man akin to one of the four horseman of the apocalypse bringing pestilence and decay to those who he touched, he hated the feeling wholly.

bruised and on the verge of life with a cabin nearly burned to the ground, ronan felt as though he had no where to go except the one place he felt kinship with. the lakes dark ichor moved on this moonlit night while the son of poseidon plunged himself into the water deciding to sink himself as deep as his mind would take him.

there was a beauty to the nothingness in his mind — he had no thoughts and sat in the isolation. a scream rattled through the depths of the lake as fish scattered and ro cried for the first time in his adult life. is this what his life would be now? nothing but chaos and strife?

luckily for the man, there were no tears while in a body of water. he would just add himself into the lake's essence giving himself to the waters that he spent the most of his time at camp in.

ronan feels the crumbling of his walls as the flood of emotion breaks into his sterile and structured tower kept high from the rising waters, now feeling toppled over from the tumultuous waves.

he rises to the surface for a moment, eyes barely�� above the water line as he gazes at the handful of items he had with him before the invasion. he finds the water within the ghoul blood and beckons it into the air as RONAN casts DROWN to circle the vial as he attempts to open up his divinity in a real way by calling out to the wavebringer himself. the son of poseidon raises himself out of the water with his hands sternly raised as to help control his powers while he called out.

❝ poseidon, lord of the ocean. tidebreaker. holder of the earth. father. i offer this tribute of ghoul's blood to you and reach out in your dominion. in my greatest time of need, i turn to you. help me understand and grow in my powers, so that when those hear the name poseidon, their blood curdles in fear. ❞

RONAN PRAYS TO HIS FATHER OFFERING GHOUL'S BLOOD.

#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔰 › prayers #( prayer 02. )

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schiffsovereign · 2 months ago

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A top judge at the United Nations kept a slave at home. . .

Happy Friday. Here are a few stories that caught our eye this week:

Lydia Mugambe had quite the résumé:

High Court judge in Uganda. PhD candidate at Oxford. UN judicial appointee to the International Residual Mechanism for Criminal Tribunals—a body tasked with handling cases of war crimes and crimes against humanity.

Oh, and she’s also a part-time slaveholder.

A UK court just sentenced Mugambe to six years in prison for forcing a young Ugandan woman into unpaid labor, which, I believe under most definitions, qualifies as slavery.

You really can’t make this up: a woman selected by the United Nations to help adjudicate crimes against humanity… was convicted of crimes against humanity.

Of course, this type of hypocrisy is nothing new for the UN.

We’re talking about a body that has appointed China, Cuba, and Venezuela to the UN Human Rights Council.

Yet the UN Human Rights Council has passed more resolutions condemning Israel than any other country on earth—more than Iran, North Korea, China, and Syria combined.

We should all rest easy knowing the world’s leading human rights institutions remain firmly in the hands of the ‘experts’.

You probably remember how, last week, a $60 million fighter jet fell overboard from the USS Harry S. Truman aircraft carrier.

According to officials, the ship had made a hard, evasive turn to dodge missile fire from Yemen’s Houthi rebels, which contributed to the aircraft’s sudden plunge into the sea.

OK, so maybe everyone makes mistakes. And yet, it just happened again.

This past Tuesday—literally eight days later—another fighter jet went overboard from the exact same ship. This time it happened while the plane was landing— the tailhook missed the arresting wire, the jet failed to stop, and it just kept going… right into the ocean.

Another $60+ million gone. Pretty soon, we’ll be talking about real money...

That brings the USS Truman’s 2025 total to two jets lost, one collision with a merchant vessel, and one friendly-fire shootdown.

And that’s just this year.

A couple years ago, the Navy racked up three major collisions in four months, including the USS Fitzgerald, which killed seven sailors after slamming into a container ship, and the USS John S. McCain, which managed to plow into a tanker, killing ten more.

Both incidents were chalked up to “navigation errors” and “confusion on the bridge.” But that shouldn’t be surprising when you look at Navy leadership.

Last May, Admiral Robert Burke—the Navy’s former #2—was arrested for bribery. He funneled millions in contracts to a private company, then took a $500,000-a-year job with them after retiring. That company, naturally, provides “leadership training.” So a corrupt admiral hired a corrupt company to train the next generation of Navy leaders. Great.

Meanwhile, the Navy continues to shrink. Congress says it’s supposed to have 355 battle-ready ships. It’s got around 280, many of which are rusting Cold War leftovers. And even the new ones are riddled with defects.

But don’t worry. The Navy has its priorities straight.

When they launched their first co-ed submarine last fall—the USS New Jersey, nicknamed “Jersey Girl”—they didn’t talk about firepower or strategic capability. No, they celebrated it as “a testament to the strength that diversity brings to our Navy,” and “a symbol of progress, breaking barriers.”

Because nothing strikes fear into adversaries like diversity and inclusion.

Drag shows weren’t exactly a great look for a military still recovering from the humiliating 2021 withdrawal from Afghanistan. And now, in the Red Sea, they’re sinking their own planes. No enemy required.

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waveswallowed · 2 months ago

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[ nightmare ] sender wakes receiver up from a nightmare

@worthyheir | PROMPT

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀SLEEP FEELS LIKE DYING. each of the rare nights where he is able to find some, without failure, when his eyes, at last, give in to his worn body's demands for rest, and fall shut, he sinks into the deep blue abyss of clashing waves sweeping him away, drops from high above into their freezing depths, lower and lower, into a cold blue underworld of fright and terror. of late, ever since the gradual return of the memories of that fateful morning at storm's end, arrax has been a constant presence in his dreams; at times, they do naught but fly, more oft, he sees him die, clings to a pearlescent wing shot through with scales of shimmering gold, usually bright colours that appear dull and muted from the grey light of the storm raging on in the cloudy sky above, illuminated in a ghostly white glow from lightning every so often, as the dark waves lap at him, threaten to pull him away, from arrax, or, rather, what remains of him, what has not yet sunken to the bottom of the sea beneath them, from the only thing preventing him from making a surely fatal collision with the rocks stretching tall between the foam and smeasmoke, from the life he is so barely clinging onto. they always succeed.

on this night, it is no different . . . if not for the voice that cuts through the scenery just as he goes under, sounding as muffled as one would expect a voice to sound underwater . . . until he plunges into darkness and it grows louder, clearer. too quickly, is he pulled from the menacing imagery of his dreams and back to the waking world, so quickly he cannot discern between what is real and what isn't.

air catches in lucerys’ throat in a harrowing, raspy gasp as eyes fly open and uncoordinated limbs scramble against sheets to push him upwards, lungs contracting painfully around phantom waters refusing to recede. he's drowning, he's drowning, he's not . . . ‘tis not salty ocean billage he coughs up, but a foul combination of saliva and bile, gracelessly being spat upon crumpled bedding whilst he struggles to catch his breath. at first, all he sees is darkness around him, stretching on endlessly, until, in the muted glow of a nigh dead fireplace located somewhere across the room, he sees something . . . no, someone, near him. a face, unrecognisable until it's not, the instinct to reach for the dagger kept at all times shoved into the narrow space betwixt bed frame and mattress barely suppressed as his mind supplies a name. jace. his brother. his brother is here.

“ jace . . . ” he manages to say after a moment, voice hoarse and thick with sleep still, breathless from the ache still present in his lungs, the name leaving his lips as though he needs the reminder, and, oft, he does, repeating all their names like a mantra inside of his mind, over and over again, fearful he might forget again, fearful of disappointing the family who had thought had lost him once before, fearful of the anguish he'd once before seen in his mother's lilac eyes, damp with tears, crying over him.

luke shifts, the, to him, suffocating weight of the sheet that feels too close in that moment slipping off his frame as he scoots to the edge of the bed, tunic soaked with sweat, clinging to pallid skin, the chill of night that lingers in the atmosphere quickly replacing uncomfortable warmth with damp cold that sends shivers through his body.

“ . . . thank you. ” he adds after yet another while, so quiet one might have to strain to catch the words. for waking me.

#worthyheir #༄࿔*·⋅ verse : made a wraith of me.#you dont know how long ive wanted to write something like this #so thanks for the prompt and the angst im ecstatic lol

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ohmyronpa-imagines · 3 years ago

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Hi, am I able to request Gundham x reader in a killing game AU….. Possibly someone try’s to kill the reader and Gundham manages to save them (you don’t have to include this….just wasn’t sure if I’m supposed to specify anything)

Ahhh, once again, I ended up neglecting this blog. I apologize! Again... Anyways, please enjoy! - Mod Hajime

Gundham Saving You from an Attempted Murder (Killing Game AU)

You had decided to take a midnight stroll, just to clear your mind.

After the last trial, Nagito had been locked up. Although you felt a little safer, you were still weary.

How could someone kill another person? The idea of committing a murder was foreign to you, and you’d never be able to do it, even with a motive.

As you took in a deep breath and tasted the ocean air, a smile crossed your face.

Despite the circumstances, you still thought the island was beautiful.

You turned around as you heard a bush rustle. Whipping your head around and searching for the noise, you fell into a nervous sweat. There was a dark air closing in on you and it felt as if you were being hunted.

Finally getting your legs to work, you took off. You could hear the footsteps of your pursuer following you.

Your heart hammered against your chest and you gasped for air. Running on sand was quickly tiring as your shoes kept sinking into the floor.

Suddenly you were tackled to the ground and you let out a scream. Your attacker was wearing a simple white mask that only showed the eyes. You couldn’t see the color as you were too preoccupied with trying to get them off.

Their hands pinned yours to the ground and you screamed, desperately trying to shove them off of you.

Sand was kicked up and some got in your mouth, however your screaming didn’t stop.

Your attacker growled and pulled out a sharp drop point knife. The silver blade shimmered in the night sky. A tear rolled down your face, were you really about to die?

They lifted their arm and then brought it down to plunge it into your body.

But in one swift movement, their knife was thrown out of their hand and they were tackled to the ground.

Disbelief held you as you watched a tall figure dressed in black, fight your attacker. The hidden person quickly escaped and ran away from the scene, leaving you and your savior alone.

Your hero appeared out of the shadows, revealing himself as the one and only, Gundham Tanaka.

Quickly hauling yourself up, you ran into Gundham’s arms and let out a sob. All the emotions your adrenaline had pushed down had risen and were coming out all at once.

Gundham was rendered speechless. He couldn’t even give a grand speech, not that he felt it was appropriate. In all honesty, he’d only been able to save you thanks to hearing your screaming. And it seemed invalidating if he were to tell you he did it all himself.

He hesitantly put his hand on the small of your back and rubbed it, “Do not be afraid. I will fight off that fiend if they come again. I, Gundham Tanaka, will protect you from harm, blessed one.” He had no nickname for you, but you were truly blessed by the gods for surviving a murder attempt.

As he waited for you to calm down, he made sure to keep a look out for the attacker. If that putrid mortal were to come back, he would smite them down into the fiery pits of hell.

Eventually, he led you back to your cabin. Before he left you reached out and grabbed his scarf, “Don’t leave. Please.” You begged.

All you felt was uneasy and unsafe. Never in your life had you been as scared as you were now.

Gundham sighed and reluctantly agreed. He’d never slept in the same room as another person, let alone in such close proximity.

He chose to sleep in the chair close to your bed as you slept on your bed. As he turned off your light he let a soft smile appear on his face.

“Sleep well, my Blessed Warrior.”

#gundham x reader #mod hajime #gundham tanaka

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delimeful · 4 years ago

Text

leave your shaded hollow

custom commission for @borrowedblue! just in time for the end of mermay :)

warnings: blood, injury, fear, miscommunication

There was blood in the water.

Virgil pressed a hand against his shoulder as he swam, trying to stifle the trickles of red that were pluming out into the ocean around him and dissolving. He’d lost his bag somewhere in the scuffle, which meant that this scavenging trip had been for nothing and he now had nothing to stifle the bleeding with.

He shouldn’t have been bitten at all, but the eel swarm had ambushed him with practiced ease, and even a mer as quick as him hadn’t been able to dodge all of them. He’d gained a lead, but he couldn’t go home as he was now. They’d follow his blood trail for as long as they could, and if any of his neighbors were out and about…

The swarm would have no compunctions about changing targets for a slower meal.

Everything was dark down here, enough so that even Virgil, who wasn’t exactly a shallow-reefs type of mer, could barely make out more than shapes even with his pupils expanded to catch all the light they could. His sonar would have helped, but sending out a signal meant that other creatures could receive that signal. Not a chance.

A low glow caught his eye, and he dove down towards it, easily identifying the source as bioluminescent plants rather than a predator’s lure.

The plants were dotted and undersized at the entrance, but a bit further into the cave, against the back wall, he could see clusters of them growing strong and tall. Mindful of the fact that he had sparse moments before trouble caught up with him, he darted further into the cave, hurriedly gripping the plants at the base and tearing some of the fibers off.

As expected, they worked well enough as makeshift bandages, and he wadded a mass of softer, absorbant roots against the wound as makeshift gauze before wrapping his arm with the glowing fibers. The luminescence would be attention-catching, but if he covered it with his hand, he was sure he would have better luck than if he tried to escape while leaking blood everywhere.

He tied the faux bandages off and plunged his hands into a nearby cluster of plants, scrubbing off as much of the excess blood as he possibly could. If he was lucky, the concentration of bloodscent would distract the swarm here for a good while.

In front of him, the back wall of the cave suddenly lit up with bright, bioluminescent patterns.

Virgil froze, trying to comprehend the change. Had he brushed up against a cluster of coral or something? He’d never seen anything growing on cave walls that had such a distinct pattern, nor one that lit up so rapidly.

The ‘wall’ suddenly shifted back, and Virgil’s heart kicked into overdrive.

The cave was much, much deeper than it had first appeared, and much wider beyond this entrance tunnel-- the tunnel that had apparently been blocked off by the body of the creature before him.

He could only see parts of it as it shifted around, and even those were only lit partially by the plants’ dim radiance: sleek dorsal fins, the glint of sharp claws, and an enormous, ridged tail dotted with those luminescent patterns.

Abruptly, there were two huge, glowing blue eyes in front of him, scanning the tunnel with slit pupils.

Leviathan.

Virgil’s breath had gone still in his chest, frozen in place by the ice running through his veins. He’d heard the rumors about Leviathans, unspeakably massive monsters that lived down in the depths of the ocean, able to achieve impossible feats on a whim, with moods as tumultuous as surface storms.

The creature hadn’t seen him yet, the glow of his bandages helping him blend into the plants around him. It’s face was partially lit by the eerie glow of its eyes, and with how close it was, Virgil could see the twitch of its nose as it inhaled, scenting the water.

He barely kept from whimpering, realizing that his blood had thoroughly saturated the cave by now. If this predator was anything like a shark, he was about to be torn to shreds.

The creature leaned forwards, pupils gradually expanding to see better, and when its mouth drew closer, Virgil could see the mass of razor-sharp fangs that lurked inside. His stillness began to fracture under the force of his fear, and he drew in a tiny, shallow breath.

Those eyes flicked over to lock onto him in an instant.

In the next breath, Virgil was fleeing, past the cave entrance and the open waters, every muscle in his body straining to get away, get away, get away. He couldn’t hear whether or not the monster was pursuing, his heartbeat roaring in his ears, but he wasn’t stopping, not for anything--

Something collided with him heavily, knocking all the momentum right out of him as he went spinning through the water, disoriented.

He noticed the smell first: a thick and cloying iron tang, as though he was breathing in more blood than water.

A breath later, the pain caught up with him.

The eel was latched onto his side, sinking teeth deep into his abdomen and tearing at the flesh there. He choked out a scream, trying to drive his thumbs into the sea snake's eyes, but the rest of the swarm were close behind by now, and they began to circle and constrict around him.

He was caught. Even if he somehow got away, the new wound wouldn’t be so easily brushed off or bandaged up. He thrashed sharply against the swarm anyways, digging his claws into muscle and snapping his fangs at what he could reach, but for each eel he drove off, there were two new ones to take its place.

Gills blocked, barely able to move, he was struggling not to black out when he noticed a set of familiar glowing eyes in the distance.

Half the swarm scattered the moment the Leviathan drew close, apparently easily able to recognize the glowing patterns that flickered along its tail. The other half hesitated, unwilling to release their prey, but then it reached out with one huge, clawed hand, and the rest of the swarm vanished into the dark.

Virgil wished he could do the same, but being released had hurt almost as bad as being bitten, and his fins only fluttered weakly in response to his mind’s desperate shrieking.

The Leviathan’s hand curled around him, grip firm but somehow not blocking any of Virgil’s gillslits or even grazing him with any of those long claws. He managed a frankly pitiful wiggle of protest and then went stiff with the resulting wave of pain that rolled through him.

There was a little rumble from the creature as it drew closer, bringing Virgil up to its face. He went tense, scrunched his eyes shut, bracing for pain as he got nearer and nearer to those glinting teeth--

“Are you okay?” The voice was low, just above a whisper, and sounded surprisingly… young?

Virgil opened his eyes, finding that narrow, glowing gaze locked on him, dizzyingly close. The silence stretched for a breath, and when he managed to speak past his bruised ribs and the terror clogging his throat, the word came out confused and small. “What?”

“You’re bleeding,” the Leviathan informed him, turning him a little bit to inspect the injury. Virgil curled in on himself like a sea star, despite knowing that it was a pointless gesture. If someone this big wanted to take a bite out of him, there was little he could do to stop it. “It looks really bad.”

“Hurts pretty bad, too,” Virgil huffed out, watching the Leviathan’s every move, eyes tight with pain. What was the point of this? Was he going to die quick or slow? When? The uncertainty of it all made his spinal fins shudder.

“Oh.” The Leviathan recoiled a bit, his earfins drooping like a scorned child’s. “I tried to get to you before the eels, but they’re very fast. I’m sorry.”

Virgil blinked and unfurled a little, taken aback by the giant’s earnest apology.

“If you’re sorry, you can-- can let me go,” he tried, speaking carefully.

The Leviathan cocked his head curiously, eyebrows drawing inwards. “But-- If I leave you like this, you won’t survive long. Not down here.”

It was true. His hands already felt numb, his fins distant, the cold encroaching as he lost more and more blood. He would succumb to his injuries before making it out of the abyss. He’d known it even as he asked, wondered if it was worth a slower, longer death just to avoid becoming prey.

The Leviathan tilted his head in the opposite direction consideringly, and then lifted his other hand and advanced on Virgil. “Hold still, please. I will try to make this quick.”

A shock of fear ran through him, trying to revitalize his sluggish limbs, but all his body managed was wave after wave of uncontrollable trembling. He couldn’t avoid the approaching claws, couldn’t even bear to close his eyes to avoid seeing his impending disembowelment.

The Leviathan’s fingers curled in, tucking the claws away, and it was a knuckle that ended up pressing solidly against his torso, right next to his wound.

“Please,” Virgil managed to force out, terrified and disoriented, not even sure what he was asking.

There was a low hum, the sound almost resonant, and Virgil watched as every glowing mark along the being’s skin flared up in hypnotizing patterns.

A short, searing burn, like accidentally passing over a too-hot vent, and abruptly, the pain was gone.

The Leviathan withdrew, brightening up with excitement. “I did it!”

Virgil barely noticed the grip around him relax, fumbling his hands over where there had formerly been a gaping wound. His fingers ghosted over thick scar tissue, perfectly aligned to where the bite had been, with no lingering pain to speak of. “What-- What exactly did you do?”

“I healed you,” the Leviathan replied proudly, and then hesitated. “Right?”

Virgil found himself tugged back up to the Leviathan’s face with a yelp, sending his heart racing anew. The giant’s gaze was narrowed fiercely as he inspected Virgil’s new scar, and it took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t a glare. The Leviathan was squinting, as though his vision was impaired.

“It’s-- No, yeah, it’s healed,” he reassured the deep dweller, a beat late. “But… how?”

“Oh! Healing magic,” he replied, as though the answer was obvious. “I wasn’t sure how well it would work-- learning magic is hard, but I’m a pro-di-gy.”

The last word was carefully enunciated, as though he’d mispronounced it in the past. Virgil struggled to come to terms with the fact that magic was apparently real, and that what was almost certainly a child had just used it on him.

“You should swim slow,” the kid told him, hand slowly flattening out to give him more space. “That way you don’t pull on the new tissue! How do you normally swim so fast?”

“I practice a lot.” Virgil pushed himself up into open water, waiting for the other shell to drop. Was a Leviathan really just… letting him go? “Why’d you heal me?”

“Because you were hurt?” the kid replied, doing that curious little head-tilt again. As though the answer was obvious. His gaze flickered between Virgil and the surface light trickling down from above, and he rushed out another question. “How do humans make such big structures float?”

Virgil’s tail flicked anxiously. He could leave, right now. The kid wouldn’t be able to catch him.

“I think they make them hollow, full of air, so they don’t sink,” he answered, watching as the kid wiggled excitedly, muttering about shipwrecks, his patterns pulsating brightly. He felt a little faint at the sight of that razor-sharp smile. “I’ve, uh, never met a Leviathan before. Who-- I mean, what do you eat? Just curious.”

“I eat krill and plankton mostly! And some plants that taste good, or help stomach aches,” the kid listed eagerly. “I’ve met a few little mers, but normally they pass out or swim away really fast when they see me.”

He paused and pressed his lips together, like he hadn’t meant to say so much, casting another glance at the lighter waters above. He was expecting him to flee, Virgil realized, and trying to ask as many questions as he could before he did.

… The kid had saved his life. The least he could do was be polite company.

“What’s your name, kid?” Virgil asked, crossing his arms as though to reaffirm that he wasn’t leaving any time soon.

The kid’s fins twitched in surprise. “My name is Logan,” he replied, looking at Virgil with those wide glowing eyes.

“I’m Virgil,” Virgil said, flitting up a little bit to be eye level with him. “You, um… You got anything else you want to ask?”

This time, when Logan lit up with joy, Virgil slanted a smile right back.

#sanders sides #Mermaids #mermaid au #platonic analogical #ts virgil #ts logan #g/t #commissioned works #my writing #writing #lysh #leave your shaded hollow #oneshot

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sigmadolos · 2 years ago

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@nonhumen said: " i said i would get you out alive. " a calm voice replies from the elevator as sigma is kicked to the safety of solid ground. dazai's eyes are bright, a smile of content on his face as the elevator plunges down. " i'll leave the rest to you. " (give me the sigma commentary PLS)

Was this how he died? Falling. He supposed that was how it was set from the beginning, wasn’t it? The angel with broken wings, plunging to the ground below. Like a modern Icarus, where height and ocean both sought to kill. But there would only be the hard ground to meet him. And there would be nothing of him. The world already thought he was dead other than those inside this prison. What difference did it make where an angel fell? He still fell.

What?

His eyes widen when he hears the calm voice in his ear. Impossibly calm considering what all was happening. What did that mea-

Sigma suddenly feels the force from Dazai that sends him hurling out of the cage. Maybe his wings aren’t shattered beyond uselessness, because he feels himself fly for a moment and hit hard, but dry!, ground. But there is no Dazai that follows. Only haunting words and an even more haunting expression. Why was he smiling like that?

“ DAZAI ! “ The name shreds his throat as he screams before he can even realize he has, and he scrambles to peer over the edge. Surely Dazai has a plan, right? The elevator will stop any second, and Dazai will crawl out and laugh at his expression. Because that is just something Dazai would do, like the lunatic and genius he was. And then Sigma would......what? Smack him? Hug him? Both, most likely.

But the elevator doesn’t stop. It plunges into the darkness below to his horror until he can only hear the grating of metal as it freefalls. He holds his breath, but there is nothing. No miracle that appears. This prison is where miracles die in silence. Unanswered and unheard. But...surely...?

“ I’ll leave the rest to you. “

Water drips from Sigma’s hair as he stares into the abyss below.

“ Why? “ It’s a hushed, weak whisper into the darkness as his hands clench the edge of the platform while he hangs his head. Dazai shouldn’t have. He should have left Sigma behind and saved himself. Hadn’t Sigma just proved he wasn’t useful? He would have died there if it wasn’t for Dazai. Why was Dazai putting so much faith in him? He’d done nothing to deserve that or earn that faith. He wasn’t a genius, he wasn’t powerful. He’d FAILED. So why-?

The answer comes with a shocking clarity.

“ I said I would get you out alive. “

SIgma’s lips tremble slightly as the thought sinks in. Yes, Dazai had said that. But...Sigma hadn’t thought he’d actually MEANT it. Maybe alive until his usefulness (whatever THAT was) had ran out. No further. Sigma was already prepared to die inside these walls, nameless and forgotten by the rest of the world. Dazai had no reason to keep his word. He had no OBLIGATION to. If Sigma died, no one would be any the wiser. They all thought he was dead as it was. If anything, he was a burden to Dazai. And Dazai had....saved him? Because of some silly little words? Words that Sigma hadn’t even believed, because so many people had said such promising words to him in the past only to use and discard and abandon him. He expected Dazai to be yet another one of those people.

But he hadn’t.

He’d kept his word.

..........He hadn’t even asked anything of Sigma. It wasn’t a deal. It wasn’t sigma’s life for his ability or doing a certain specified task. Dazai had just...kept his word because he’d said it. The realization stuns Sigma, horror and grief given pause in the face of such shock. No one....had ever done that....

It hurts. His heart feels like it’s being eaten alive and shredded by the cruel teeth of beasts. Fyodor.....Nikolai.....and now Dazai too. Funny how just hours ago he’d have happily done anything asked against him, because Dazai was the enemy. But who was enemy and ally had changed and blurred and twisted beyond recognition. His heart bled with emotions - but there was an unexpected blade of loss. As infuriating as Dazai had been at times....He’d also saved Sigma several times. He’d been there for him. He’d sacrificed more useful tools just to, what, save Sigma? Someone he didn’t even know. Someone who was by all accounts the enemy.

Dazai was a genius. What good would Sigma do? He wasn’t even the target but would it cease now or would he still be a wounded bird trying to escape cat claws?

“ I’ll leave the rest to you. “

His chest hurts, each breath of precious oxygen helping but also making the pain harder to swallow.

“ Okay. “ Sigma speaks softly into the silent darkness, his voice trembling slightly as he leans back and stands up from the edge. “ Okay. I’ll take care of the rest. “ What, exactly, the rest was, Sigma had no idea. But he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. Dazai had saved him at his own cost, and sitting here was doing nothing for either of them beyond wasting time and the chance Dazai gave him. Sigma wasn’t Fyodor, and he wasn’t Dazai. He had to at least try though. At least if he died, it was fighting tooth and claw. Maybe it wouldn’t be enough, but he could say he tried.

Sigma lingers a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat before turning way to walk down the hallway. I said I would get you out alive. I’ll leave the rest to you. Words that Sigma sank his claws into and tucked under his ribcage, close to his heart as he moved forwards.

#nonhumen #THIS UH THIS GOT LONG #BUT WE HAD MANY THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS #aND IM NOT OKAY #SIGMA SITTING HERE IN SHOCK AND SORROW AND CONFUSION #BUT HE GOTTA GET UP #HE'S GOTTA KEEP GOING!!#sad though that.....#he genuinely does think it was a mistake on Dazai's part #that he should be the one in the elevator not dazai #ic || the angel of the aerial casino

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wafflesandkruge · 3 years ago

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a spark of hope

“Cheating at Kerch gambling dens. Possession of illegal weapons. Selling forged visas to Ravkan refugees.” The man squinted at the file in his hand. “Rather impressive ones, too.”

Jyn kept silent. You could hardly walk the streets of Ketterdam without bumping into someone profiting off refugees from the Ravkan Empire in some form or other. Her eyes wandered across the maps pinned up around the room, at the jagged black line that split Ravka in two. After the creation of the Fold more than a decade ago by Darth Vader, Ravka had been plunged into darkness. Grisha children were snatched up and forced to join the Second Army. Those lucky enough to flee didn’t find it much easier anywhere else. After all, how long could mountains or an ocean contain the ambition of a monster?

or the rogue one/grishaverse crossover no one asked for.

a tides secret santa gift for @mitdemadlerimherzen!

ao3

There were thirty-three cracks in the ceiling of Jyn’s cell. She lay flat on her back on the wooden pallet and counted again, trying to ignore the snores of her cellmate. Thirty-two this time. Then thirty-five.

The torches of the hallway outside kept burning. Jyn didn’t sleep.

Hellgate was louder at night. She clutched the piece of bone around her neck and strained to hear the muffled cries from the arena at the center of the prison. It was a fight night—prisoners would fight deadly creatures from every corner of the globe for the entertainment of rich bastards from Ketterdam, all for the chance at some material comforts. Assuming they weren’t killed. Jyn personally didn’t care for it, but she knew nights like these were her best chance at escape. All she needed was a stroke of luck.

A thrum of power seemed to go through the bone. Jyn’s fingertips went numb.

Go to the door, her father’s voice whispered in her head. She hated that even after all these years, she still remembered the sound of his voice. He was a phantom crutch that she couldn’t bear to get rid of. She slid from the bed and put her hand against the cell door.

To her surprise, it squeaked open without resistance. Was this a trick of some sort? Jyn furrowed her brows and took a cautious step outside. Like hers, every cell door along the length of the hallway was opening and prisoners were emerging. There wasn’t a guard in sight. A strange, buoyant feeling filled her ribcage.

Run, her father whispered.

The prison descended into chaos.

Jyn’s pulse hammered in her ears as she ducked under an escaped prisoner’s wild swing and willed her legs to run faster. Screams sounded in the tunnel behind her and she had no intention of finding out whether they were due to prison guards, escaped beasts, or worse.

She plunged deeper into the prison, trusting her mental map of the building. If she was right, she’d come upon a service aqueduct soon. She could swim out, then it was just a matter of stealing a boat from a tourist and making her way back to the mainland. She was so caught up in spinning her plan that she didn’t see the dark shadow hurtling for her as she turned another corner.

She was thrown to the ground as she collided with something massive and solid. Pain shot up her body. She wheezed desperately, trying to catch her breath.

“Congratulations. You are being rescued,” a deep voice above her stated. Jyn blinked dark spots out of her vision to find a tall Fjerdan peering down at her, an impassive look on his face. “Please do not resist.”

Kay was the Fjerdan’s name, she learned. He was hulking and sullen and reminded Jyn of a wet sock. His partner wasn’t much better than him. Captain Cassian Andor was a serious and quiet man with dark eyes that she was sure concealed too many secrets for his own good. She could tell there was a pistol hidden inside his jacket, but she knew better than to try to lift it. Once they had boarded a hidden boat and were off the prison island, he’d shed his disguise to reveal Ravkan military fatigues. Jyn had a sinking feeling she knew what this was about.

“Liana Hallik,” the uniformed man in front of her said, his tone sharp. Cassian and Kay had taken them to a larger ship moored in the middle of the sea and Jyn had been shoved into a room with this man as soon as her feet had touched the deck. She looked balefully at him. They both knew that wasn’t her name.

“Cheating at Kerch gambling dens. Possession of illegal weapons. Selling forged visas to Ravkan refugees.” The man squinted at the file in his hand. “Rather impressive ones, too.”

Her fingers drifted upwards until they brushed the piece of bone at her neck.

“Imagine if they’d really known who you are,” the man continued. His lips curled into a sneer. “Jyn Erso.”

Jyn met his eyes and willed herself to stay perfectly still in her chair.

“Your father is Galen Erso. A brilliant Fabrikator known to assist the Empire in making amplifiers for its army.”

There wasn’t a question in his words, rather, an accusation. Jyn resented it. She straightened her spine the way she’d seen her mother do a thousand times before and raised her chin.

“What is this?” she demanded. “An interrogation? If so, I’d suggest you start asking questions.”

Novokribirsk was bitterly cold this time of year. Despite her three layers, Jyn shivered as she and Cassian trudged through the ravaged roads. A certain air of despair seemed to coat everything in the town like dust after a long day of travel. Jyn supposed it was the impenetrable layer of black not far in the distance. If the Empire ever decided to expand the Fold again, everyone in the town knew they were next.

“I have a contact,” Cassian muttered as the two of them passed a hawker selling saints’ relics. “She’ll be waiting at the Shrine of the Sun Saint. We give her your name, and hope that’ll be enough for an audience with Saw Gerrera.”

“Hope?” Jyn exclaimed with a disbelieving laugh. They’d sailed half the sea in the hope that a few words would solve all their problems? She’d thought Cassian too jaded for naive fantasies. Hope was for children that hadn’t yet grown up.

“Yes,” Cassian said, his eyes dead serious. “Rebellions are built on hope.”

Jyn opened her mouth to argue further, then a gleam of color caught her eye. Two Grisha in bright red kefta were in the alleyway, smoking and laughing. It wasn’t rare to see them in West Ravka, but Jyn couldn’t help the sharp jolt of fear that pierced her, not when she’d grown up on stories of Heartrenders being able to crush your mind with a flick of their fingers or hear your heartbeat from miles away.

“Let’s hurry,” Cassian muttered, his eyes also catching on the Grisha. Perhaps he’d heard the same stories.

“Is this because of the pilot?” Jyn demanded as she sped up to match Cassian’s longer strides. “The squaller?”

According to the Rebellion’s intelligence, a Second Army squaller had crossed the Fold alone a few days ago with vital intelligence regarding the Fold from her father. Jyn couldn’t help but be impressed.

“Maybe.” Cassian answered. His eyes darted to something Jyn couldn’t make out. “Stay here. Wait for me.”

With that, he vanished into the crowd.

“Would you trade that necklace for a glimpse into the future?” a voice cried through the din. Jyn turned towards the voice. A man dressed in simple black robes sat on a wooden platform, a staff between his hands. He wasn’t looking at Jyn, but she had the distinct feeling he was talking to her.

“Yes, you,” he said. Jyn’s eyes widened. Was he Grisha? She made her way through the marketplace’s bustle until she was in front of him. This close, she could see the cloudiness of his eyes. Blind.

“How did you know I was wearing a necklace?” she demanded.

The man only smiled. “For an answer to that, you’ll have to pay. I’m Chirrut.”

There was a flash of movement in a doorway behind the platform and Jyn looked up to find another man looking at her. He wore the furred robes preferred by the mountain people of the South and a fierce scowl cut across his rugged face. A black tattoo of a sun crept up the side of his neck.

“Baze,” Chirrut chided, “you’re scaring the girl.”

The scowl lessened by a fraction.

The Fold came for them. Jyn watched the living darkness approach with mute horror, her feet rooted to the spot. Her father’s message still echoed in her ears.

“We have to go!” Cassian shouted at her, pulling roughly at her arms. “Jyn!”

Jyn let herself be dragged out of the room, her mind still turning over everything her father had told her. The Sun Summoner. The amplifiers. It was all real.

She stumbled as they exited onto the street, streams of panicked people rushing past them. They wouldn’t outrun the Fold, Jyn realized numbly. None of them would. A look at Cassian’s face confirmed he knew this as well. A fleeing couple crashed into Jyn and nearly knocked her off her feet.

“Come on,” Cassian muttered as he pulled Jyn closer to him. Then to her horror, he started pulling them against the flow of the crowd, in the direction of the Fold.

“Are you insane?” she demanded, trying to pull away. But his grip on her arm was firm, his face resolute.

“We have a sandskiff. We have a pilot. We’ll take our chances.”

Their pilot was a skinny, nervous man by the name of Bodhi. His dark blue kefta was in tatters and the goggles on his head had one of its glass lenses shattered, so Jyn’s doubt about his piloting skills seemed warranted.

“I’m the pilot,” he muttered to himself as he stared at the sails as if he’d never seen them before. “I’m the pilot.”

“Bodhi, we need to go!” Cassian shouted from the helm.

“There’s a fifty-two percent chance we’ll all be eaten by volcra,” Kay said gloomily.

The darkness got closer. Jyn squeezed the bone at her neck, then pulled the chain over her head. It felt like cutting off a part of herself, an aching wound that demanded to be filled again. She pressed the bone into Bodhi’s hand and ignored how wrong it felt.

“You’re the pilot,” she told him.

A spark entered his eyes. “I’m the pilot.”

Wind filled the sails.

The morning before the Grisha testers had come for Jyn, her father had sat her down on her bed, an uncharacteristically grave expression on his face.

“If they declare you as Grisha, you’ll be taken away from your Mama and Papa and sent to the Little Palace,” he told her. “Do you want that?”

Jyn shook her head slowly, her braids swinging with her. “I don’t want to go,” she said with a sniffle. “Don’t let them take me.”

“It’s okay,” her Papa crooned as he wrapped his arms around her. Jyn buried her face into the neck of his dark purple, almost black, kefta. “Papa won’t let them take you. Do you believe me?”

Jyn nodded.

And when they embraced again after the testers had declared her non-gifted, Jyn didn’t notice her father’s light touch to her wrist or the paraffin that detached itself from her skin and reformed in the palm of his hand.

“The sun summoner is real,” Jyn insisted. She planted her palms on the wooden table shared by the leaders of the Rebels. “My father knew it. He made schematics of the three amplifiers so that they’d be able to destroy the Fold.”

“Fairytales,” Tynnra Pamlo scoffed. “You’d have us destroy our forces on the word of bedtime stories and traitors.”

Jyn could feel she was losing them. She looked around the table desperately, at the faces of people who would do anything to avoid having the war brought to their doorsteps. “The Fold will keep expanding,” she said. She knew it was true. “Yesterday it was Novokribirsk. Tomorrow, it will cross the permafrost. The day after, it will scale the Sikurzoi. Who’s to say the sea will be spared? If you don’t act now, you will lose everything.”

Across the table, Nower Jebel shook his head. “We cannot act on the hope that there is a chance of a solution.”

Jyn’s eyes found Cassian’s. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was resignation in the set of his shoulders. “Rebellions,” she said slowly, “are built on hope.”

Jyn and Cassian dragged the bodies of the unconscious Grisha behind a garden wall. But when Cassian went to put on the kefta of the Fabrikator, she shook her head.

“The purple one. That’s mine.”

Cassian held her gaze for a moment and Jyn held her breath, wondering if he’d voice the thoughts in his head. If he’d insist that the blue kefta would fit her build better. Instead, he simply nodded and handed the kefta over to her.

The heavy silk settled on Jyn’s shoulders. Would this have been her in another life? A life of luxury, of never having to look over one’s shoulder because you were already the most dangerous person in the room. It wasn’t as if she didn’t already have blood on her hands.

“It doesn’t suit you,” Cassian said quietly.

Jyn turned to face him. The squaller’s kefta was a little too short for him and too narrow in the shoulders, but it would hold up from far away. If he had any qualms about wearing the uniform of the enemy, it didn’t show on his face.

“Thank you for the fashion advice,” she said, knowing he’d understand what she really meant.

“It’s this one,” Jyn murmured as she traced the gilded stars on the wooden lid of the trunk.

“How do you know?” Cassian demanded. The yelling outside the door got louder, but Jyn knew that without the right code or a master Fabrikator like her father, they had no hope of getting inside the archive room.

“Stardust. That’s me.” She’d heard that affectionate nickname on her father’s lips for the last time only a day ago.

“How do we it open it?”

“Me.” Jyn closed her eyes and rested her fingers against the box. She could feel the clever mechanisms hidden within the wood, dozens of latches and sliders. And in the center of it all, a capsule meant to destroy the contents if someone tried to force it open.

One last gift from her father. Jyn took a deep breath and moved her right hand a few inches to the left. The first latch fell in place.

#sob will post more writing soon have a pirate zoya wip that's overdue sorry ger #soc #six of crows #tgt #the grisha trilogy #soc writing #tgt writing #star wars #rogue one #jyn erso #cassian andor #chirrut imwe #baze malbus #k-2so #galen erso #bodhi rook #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #my writing

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paterson-blue · 4 years ago

Text

Shadow of the Sea: Chapter 1

Summary: Kylo is used to being alone. It's how he's survived this long, in the cold ocean depths. He can take care of himself. Other creatures--other merfolk--are dangerous; he has the scars to prove it. Humans, however, are the worst of all. But one day, Kylo finds he has no other choice but to turn to one for help. The human he meets is nothing like he expects, and all he knows is he wants more. Is he willing to pay the price?

Word Count: 4,394

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, plot set up, kylo ren needs a hug confirmed, non-graphic descriptions of violence & bodily harm, brief mentions of blood & wounds, very vague medical descriptions lol, minor character death (happens off screen), oh but there's also one that happens on screen but it's brief, big time ocean nostalgia from your dear author— let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thank you @paper-n-ashes for beta reading! Icon behavior tbh.

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

Kylo prided himself on his independence—his ferocity, his ability to fight his way out of every corner. His body was scarred and battle-hardened, but that didn’t matter. It was proof he was a survivor, and it’s not like he had anyone around him to care about his appearance. Most creatures he saw took one look at his massive form and ran.

He was intimidating, all muscle, his fins torn from previous fights. While his skin was pale, his scales were an onyx color; it made blending into the ocean depths easier. He couldn’t understand why merfolk’s standard of beauty was a brightly colored tail; didn’t it make camouflaging more difficult?

He guessed most merfolk didn’t care about that. They lived in large groups, colorful and cheerful and busy amongst other plant and animal life. Not many delved into the cold, murky areas Kylo had made his home. But he’d been there as long as he could remember, and there was no sense in changing things. He wouldn’t be welcome in the warmer waters anyway. They didn’t want him, and he didn’t want them.

So he kept away, and no one dared bother him. Those that did quickly learned not to. He had killed many creatures, and while it was all in defense, his reputation still preceded him. After all, he’d once fought one of the most dangerous predators the ocean knew, and he’d won.

He’d killed a human, after they’d captured him in their net. He’d overpowered them easily, yanked them from their boat into the water; he hadn’t even flinched when their little fishing knife plunged into his side. He’d watched with a furious gaze as the air left their lungs, their pathetic struggling eventually ceasing. Then he’d calmly cut himself loose from the netting. The knife wound had scarred over, but it was just one more to add to his collection.

Yes, Kylo prided himself on his abilities. He had no fear, no weakness; he never ran from a fight.

He was running now.

He’d been foolish. He should have realized why his normal hunting grounds had been so devoid of fish for the past few days—he should have seen the signs, should have been more careful. But hunger makes you desperate; makes you stupid. He hadn’t been paying attention, too focused on the singular fish he’d found.

It seemed to happen all at once. A sudden blow to his head that left him reeling, pain shooting through his skull as he whips himself around in attempts to find his attacker. A searing burn in his side the exact moment he feels a sharp pinch at the back of his neck. His head starts to spin with confusion, the scent of his own blood in the water.

He spots a figure out of the corner of his eye, and his heart leaps into his throat. It was a human, and they had some sort of weapon pointed right at him.

Kylo doesn’t think—he just bolts. They don’t seem to follow him at first, and he doesn’t understand why until he starts to feel the first symptoms of whatever they’ve injected him with. It makes him dizzy, makes his vision start to blur as a sickening metallic taste fills his mouth.

No, he thinks. I won’t let them do this.

He pulls strength from deep within and pushes himself to swim faster, farther. He hears a muffled shout from behind, and oh, they’re pursuing him now.

He swims frantically, skirting around rocks and through kelp forests, desperately trying to lose them even though he thinks he might hear the dull thrum of a boat motor over the thudding of blood in his ears. Kriff, he was so tired. It would be so easy to let the human magic overtake him, to sink to the ocean floor.

Was this death? A dreamless sleep that crept over your senses until you had no choice but to succumb to it? Kylo doesn’t want to die, not like this. Not where they can get to him, at least.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t even know where he is until he catches a quick glimpse of a familiar rock formation. His mind is in shambles, drugged and panicked, lacking oxygen as his gills burn with the strain of his labored breathing.

A cove. Not too far from here. Too shallow for a boat, too rocky for humans. A cave to shelter in. Go, swim, fast, now, now, go.

The voice in his head doesn’t feel like his own—it’s frantic, urgent, thoughtless. Usually he was so composed, controlled. The threat of death had turned him into nothing more than an animal; he’s never felt so small.

He ducks and weaves as he swims towards the hidden cove, trying to convince himself he’s doing it on purpose and not just fading in and out of consciousness. If he can just stay awake a little longer, if he can just make it to that kriffing cave, he can die with dignity. Alone and cold, drugged and bleeding, but away from the humans trying to hurt him.

Kylo nearly loses his speed when he breeches the shallow waters of the cove, his mind wanting to shut down now that he’s made it. He forces himself to keep going despite his nausea and lightheadedness. His lungs are screaming, muscles aching; he scrapes his tail against the rocky outcroppings as he searches frantically for the mouth of the underwater cave.

It’s here, it’s here. I know it’s here, I’ve seen it, I mapped it. Where is it?!

His hands snag against an opening, just barely big enough for him to squeeze through, and he darts into it. It’s a tight fit, and for a brief second Kylo is terrified he’ll get stuck and pass out from whatever the humans hit him with—he’ll die, trapped, never to be found.

But then, quick as a flash, he’s through to the other side. The small tunnel opens up into a larger cavern, protected from the elements and decorated with several pools of varying depths. He’d explored it once, curious, thinking it would be a nice place to hide. It was a little too close to humanity for his comfort, but then again he’d never seen this area very populated. He’d figured he’d keep it in the back of his mind for later.

Turns out later was now.

Kylo pulls himself to the edge of the main and deepest pool, looking around urgently through spotty vision. There was a pool in the corner, half hidden by rocks—it looked shallow, but just deep enough to be submerged. Exhaling fast, he hauls himself up and out of the water, coughing and choking as his body tries to adjust from using his gills to his mouth and nose to breathe. It was never an easy transition, and he hated doing it, but right now it was what he needed.

He growls to himself as he pulls his heavy body along the rough stone cave floor, his normally nimble tail a dead weight. If he wasn’t about to faint, he thinks he’d be a bit more graceful. By the time he rolls unceremoniously into the shallow pool, his palms are all scraped up and bleeding. He doesn’t care; barely feels the sting. He’s not really feeling much of anything at this point, head spinning out of control.

Laying like this on his back, head propped up against the ledge of the pool, Kylo gazes up at the jagged rock ceiling. His lungs crackle as he heaves in breaths, heart still pounding loudly. It’s hard to hear anything else, and he wonders again if his attackers are closing in on him. Does it even matter? His dying mind questions. He doesn’t have an opportunity to think of a retort before his body finally breaks, and he succumbs to the drug induced sleep.

—————————————————————

You wake to the familiar sounds of distant crashing waves, whistling wind, and calls of seagulls. After years on the island, the noise was a comfort.

You’d grown up here, in this same cottage by the sea--been raised fishing, hunting for mussels, searching through tide pools. You and your siblings would bike into town to sell your wares at the local market before heading down to the pier to watch the boats come and go. It was a simple life, sometimes a little isolated, but it was good nonetheless. You loved the island and the ocean, and held great respect for them both. If you honor them, they will honor you--at least, that’s what your mother always said.

Your siblings grew up and moved to the mainland, but still you stayed. Got yourself a little apartment in town above the local grocery, worked at the marina as a clerk, and visited your parents on the weekends. When your mother passed, your father followed just weeks later—a broken heart, everyone said. Suddenly, your beloved little slice of heaven—of home—belonged to you.

So you moved back into the cottage you grew up in, a place haunted by the ghosts of memories and the sounds of the sea. If you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, no matter how many times you pretend to entertain your siblings’ urging to rent the place out. Think of all the money you’d make. It’s the perfect vacation spot.

Maybe so, but you don’t care. You don’t want strangers in your home—not those tourists who come to fawn over the village, who eat up the landscape with cameras without really seeing it, who gawk at the fishermen, who laugh at the prices at the market. They would probably call your cottage quaint and cute. You could picture them tittering over your family photos on the mantle, over the door frame where heights had been marked over the years.

Tourists, who both long for and pity an isolated life on the ocean. Oh, they have it so easy here, away from the stress of the city. Oh, could you imagine living this way, barely scraping by?

No, you didn’t want them in your home, a place so sacred. You didn’t care what money you were missing out on—you got by fine with your pay from the marina, and picking up shifts at the local cafe. You loved your cottage—savored every creaky floorboard, every leaky windowsill. The drip of the bathroom faucet, the howl of the sea wind through the chimney—these were the sounds of familiarity, of safety. No one would appreciate them like you did.

Twisting around in bed, you turn your gaze towards the open window that was letting in a fresh, salty breeze. It was early, the light still dim and grey, the air a little chilly. It makes you want to curl back up under your covers, catch a couple more hours of shut-eye. It was your day off, after all; you could afford to sleep in.

Except.

You sigh, scrubbing your hands over your face as you remember what your yesterday brain had planned. You’d told yourself you’d get up in order to gather mussels at low tide. There were plenty of tide pools around, especially in the caved area of the cove. It was your family’s little secret—the hidden grotto was all but invisible from the outside. The only reason you even knew about it was because your brother had been too adventurous for his own good as a child, always getting into places he shouldn’t.

Mussels, clams, seaweed, probably fish in the deeper tide pools—maybe some sea urchin you could sell at the market. Your stomach growls.

Well, that’s that.

Groaning, you haul yourself up and out of bed, wincing at the cold hardwood on your bare feet. You bounce on your toes, shivering, goosebumps appearing on your skin as you pad over to close the window. Despite growing up here, you were always surprised at the temperature. You stubbornly let in the breeze at night, all bundled up under your covers, pretending when you woke it would be nice and warm.

But nope, not here; even in the dead of summer the mornings were chilly. Sometimes you dreamed that you lived on one of those big, luxurious, heated beaches—hot sun and white sand as far as the eye could see, no craggy cliffs or rocky shores. Eh. You probably wouldn’t like it much anyway, too used to your own environment.

Glancing at the clock, you quickly throw on some warm clothes, half-assing your regular morning routine before grabbing your tide-pool hunting essentials: a flashlight, knee-high waders, a large bucket, and your trusty fishing knife. You take a deep breath at the front door, bracing yourself for the chill. Just think of the feast you’ll have later. And you can reward yourself with a hot bath and long nap.

It’s not too long a distance from the cottage to the rocky shoreline, and while the low tide has revealed the tempting sand leading towards the rolling waves, you head towards the jagged outcropping to the left. Years of following the same path means it doesn’t take you long at all to find the hidden entrance and carefully make your way into the cavern.

In the middle of a sunny day, light shone in through various cracks in the ceiling, glinting off the water and creating flickering reflections against the stone walls. Sometimes you came here just to think, or to take a dip in the largest pool. The water was always warmer here, protected from the full power of the currents by the rock face.

Now, however, it was dark—only the dimmest bit of grey morning light trickled in. You flick on the flashlight, humming softly to yourself. The melody echoes off the stone walls, and you set your bucket down at the closest tide pool, readying yourself to hunker down and get to work. The beam of the light scans the various pools as you turn to get your knife from its holder, and something catches your eye. It’s not much, and honestly if you weren’t so familiar with the cave you probably wouldn’t have noticed the dark shape in the far corner pool.

At first, you do a double take, eyes sweeping over the little red-tinged puddles on the floor. Blood. You grip your knife, mind racing with possibilities. Was there someone in here with you? Surely not. No one ever came out here. Swallowing hard, you take a couple steps towards the corner, torch in one hand and knife in the other. As you get closer, your gaze tracks the diluted blood trail into the pool, and at first all you notice is the black scales and fins of a fish. The grip on your knife loosens just a little, the fear of a possible threat fading.

It's a big animal, you can tell that even as you make your way over, and you wonder idly how it got in. You knew, logically, that the cave connected to the ocean somehow, but you can't imagine the tide being so high for a fish as large as this one to find its way into the back corner. You’re focused on this conundrum as you round the ledge that’s been shielding the animal from your full view--so much so that it takes you more than a couple moments for your mind to compute just what it's seeing.

The tail is thick and muscular, decorated in obsidian scales that lead to delicate looking fins at the bottom. There were smaller, fan looking fins on the sides of the tail--they were all ripped up, as if they had been torn in previous fights. Your brain clocks all of this in seconds but doesn’t dwell, because it’s focused on the top half of the animal--creature--merman.

Merman. A fucking merman.

The ebony scales at the waist fade seamlessly into pale skin and lean muscle, revealing a long, firm torso. If you weren’t so aware of the tail, you might--might--think he could pass for human. Well, except for the webbed fingers and razor-sharp nails adorning each of his hands. He’s half submerged in the water of the pool, dark hair covering part of his face so you can’t see it.

You stand there, frozen, staring, not quite knowing what to do. You weren’t… scared; weren’t even very surprised aside from the initial shock of seeing him. You’d grown up hearing stories, traditions, tales—it was more than folklore here on the island. Some of the elders believed in merfolk more than ghosts, more than aliens, more than god.

Mr. Mackenzie told tales of mermaids luring in his shipmates as prey, drowning them. You always thought they were just stories designed to scare children away from dangerous tides—and maybe they were. But other accounts, you weren’t so sure of.

It was the wonder on Ms. Fraser’s face when she recounted the long-ago memory of swimming along sandbars with a girl who could breathe underwater. It was the quiet reverence of Mr. McDougall’s voice when he whispered about removing an old fish hook from a merman’s tail. It was the tears in Mrs. Buchanan’s eyes when she insisted merfolk rescued her husband from a fishing boat wreck.

You believed them. You always had, even if you’d done it silently, bashfully. You knew those who still made offerings to the ocean and to the beings that dwelled within the depths. Your island community believed in things not seen, but passed down through generations of storytelling. It was your history, kept alive despite first hand encounters becoming few and far between.

Except, here it was—your own little slice of history, right in front of you. If you took a couple more steps, you could reach out and touch it.

Is he breathing?

The little voice in your head brings you back down to your body, and a sudden fear overtakes you. You can’t let him die—if he was even still alive to begin with. You glance nervously at the pinkish trail of blood leading to the pool; the sight makes you reach some sort of resolve.

Hyper-aware of the claws on his hands, you kneel down beside him, hesitating only briefly before you settle your hand on his large bicep. He doesn’t stir, and your stomach twists unpleasantly. Your hand slides down to his wrist, and while you can admit you aren’t an expert on merfolk anatomy, surely you’ll be able to feel a pulse from the spidery blue veins under his pale skin.

Relief washes over you in a wave when you do, indeed, find a pulse—slow, but strong. Okay, not dead then. Still, he doesn’t move, so you take it upon yourself to move his damp hair out of his face, curling it behind his prominent ears.

He’s handsome.

You feel yourself flush, immediately chastising yourself for the thought. This was—best case scenario—a complete stranger who was wounded and in possible danger. Worst case scenario… you didn’t want to think about. Needless to say, it was no time to be thinking about his level of attractiveness.

You force yourself back into action, cupping his head as you hold your hand under his nose. His breathing is steady, and you gently lay his head back where it rested on the rock ledge. Your fingertips brush against something, and you frown as you realize he has a lump on the back of his skull—as if he’s been hit. You can only hope it hasn’t done too serious damage; it wasn’t like you could really take him to the hospital.

Your attention moves down his body, and you make yourself bypass the gills in his neck in order to properly gauge his wounds. Minor cuts and scrapes littered his skin; from the number of scars decorating his form, you figure these aren’t a big deal, no matter how nasty they look. Not compared to the gash on his side, at least.

You wince when you see it, the delicate flesh torn open and ragged. The cut makes you think it’s from some man-made weapon, and you shake your head in disbelief. Who would want to harm a merman? Around here, it would be blasphemous to do such a thing.

Blood no longer seeps from the wound; you hope that’s a good sign—and that the salt water has somewhat cleaned the area. You think it may have needed stitches, but you’re no doctor with the ability to do such a procedure. If you're being honest with yourself, it’s probably far too late for stitches anyway. The wound would be another nasty scar, likely similar to the one marring his face, but the area isn’t red with infection. That’s a good sign, right?

You sigh, feeling helpless. You want to do something for the creature. There’s only one thing you can really think of. Chewing on your bottom lip, you study his face again. He still seems unresponsive, and you can only hope he stays that way a little longer.

The short trek back up to your home feels the longest it’s ever been, and your legs and lungs are burning by the time you rush through the front door, having run the entire way. You heave in breaths as you pack some supplies into a bag. It wasn’t much, but you should be able to use the waterproof gauze and antibiotic ointment to dress the nasty-looking scrapes on his hands and chest.

You hesitate for a moment before going into your bathroom and grabbing the waterproof pillow you had in the tub. Maybe it was silly, but you hated thinking about him lying on the hard ground for fuck knows how long. You almost grab some food for him—maybe the fish currently thawing in your fridge—but you decide not to. You weren’t sure what he ate, and there was no telling when he’d wake up anyway.

Your breathing has just settled back to normal by the time you’re jogging back to the cave, careful not to slip on any of the wet grass and rocks. The sun starts to peak out of the morning clouds, letting pale beams of light warm the grey morning. The cavern is illuminated slightly better when you enter; you find you can lay the flashlight at a distance and see just fine.

The merman is still asleep, and you feel a little relieved. You aren’t exactly sure what will happen when he wakes up—for all you know, you’ll return later in the day to find him gone. As it is, you plop down next to the pool he was in and get to work patching him up the best you can.

Taking the towel you brought with you, you dab at his scrapes, trying to dry them a little before applying the ointment and then carefully using the gauze to cover the wounds. His palms are so torn up that you wrap them completely, your brows knitted the entire time. It must hurt, but still, he doesn’t stir.

Finally, you’re left with the gash in his side. You debate with yourself as to whether you should cover it or not—if you even can. The front of his torso was out of the water with the way he was laying, but that could change at any second, and any real pressure on his body would cause him to sink into the pool.

Your urge to help him wins out in the end, and you decide you’ll try to bandage it to protect it from any further irritation, despite knowing water would seep in regardless. You lean forward, extra careful not to lose your balance as you pat at his pale skin with the towel once more. It’s an awkward angle and slow work, you trying your best to be gentle with him.

You add as much ointment as you dare to the bandaging, not wanting to put too much onto an open wound, before fixing the gauze to his torso with some waterproof medical tape. There. Sure, it wasn’t going to work a miracle but at this point you weren’t sure what else to do.

He’ll be okay, you tell yourself. He’ll be okay.

You take a moment to watch the rise and fall of his chest, reassured by the movement. Your gaze again drifts to his tail in fascination—you hope that, maybe, you’ll come back later and he’ll be awake. Maybe he’ll be friendly, maybe the two of you can talk. It’s illogical, you know. This wasn’t some fairytale, this was real life. You honestly just hoped he didn’t try to rip you to shreds on sight.

It’s with this thought in mind that you shift away from him, telling yourself you can’t sit and watch him all day. You have several other pools to collect mussels from, breakfast to cook, chores to do. You’ve done enough, and you have to trust that his body will do the rest—you refuse to entertain the idea that he might not make it.

Sighing, you pull yourself further away, but then remember the pillow you’d brought along. You grab it quickly before shuffling back towards him. He’s got a large lump of seaweed shoved haphazardly under his head in what you assume was a desperate attempt to soften the rock face underneath.

His damp hair is surprisingly soft when you gently lift his head to clear the ground of debris. You can’t help but run your fingers through it gently, brushing it behind his ears, almost trying to soothe his subconscious. You settle the small foam pillow in place, and slowly let his head and neck rest against it. You hope it makes some sort of difference, though you know it might be a childish thought.

Your task finished, you force yourself away from him once more, even though you suddenly ache to continue touching him. Picking up your things, you continue on your mission of prying mussels from each tidepool. You move slower and quieter than you normally would, shooting the merman furtive glances every few seconds.

By the time you’re finished with the last pool, you can’t find an excuse to linger any longer. He was as safe as he was going to be. The only thing left to do now was wait. You spare your new charge one last lingering look, then grab your things and head back to the house.

______________________________________________________________

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#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x fem!reader #kylo ren x afab!reader #kylo ren #kylo ren fic #merman!kylo #merman au #multi chapter #tori writes #feedback always welcome & appreciated!

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littlefreya · 5 years ago

Note

Can you write a smut scene with Henry or Sy where the reader needs silence and shushes him so they have sex without making a noise?

Okay I’ve been wanting to do this for a while! 😇

Warning: Fluff to Smut, Breeding

***

Little ice crystals formed onto the window’s glass. Henry glimpsed outside, looking at the heavy blanket of snow on the ground, an opposite of the warmth inside.

You were crouched on four on the white carpet, with Oliver sitting on your back, giggling hysterically as you neighed like a horse.

Heather and Charlie invited you to stay with them for Christmas and what a wonderful time it was for Henry to see his beloved nephews and niece. Being the great brother and sister in-law, you suggested to babysit the kids while the two went out on a date.

Naturally the kids loved you, especially the young ones, maybe even a little bit more than “uncle Superman”. Henry was a little bit jealous but the envy in his heart melted as he saw the sight of you with a child.

The thoughts about you being just as wonderful with his child were invetible. He wanted to start a family of his own almost more than anything, yet he didn’t want to pressure you into it and make you feel like the only reason he married you was his need to reproduce. It was much more than that. You were his everything.

Charlie and Heather returned after a crazy night of clubbing, teasing you two for being “old wankers” as you both had a beat look on your face. You sat with them, listening to their stories while Henry had you in his lap, his arm wrapped around your torso and his chin resting on your shoulder.

Something felt different, he was softer than usual, stroking his thumb over your belly button through the covered shirt. Whatever it was you felt it too, you wanted this life, having the chaotic living room games with Henry, yourself and someone that was a creation of your own.

As night drew near, you went to the guest bedroom, Henry leaned against the door and watched you with admiration on his blue eyes while your rubbed lotion over your exposed legs.

“What?” You chuckled, almost embarrassed.

“I loved seeing you with the kids this evening” he answered, looking you up and down.

“I love them” you answered “Olie kinda looks like you”

“It’s the curls” he admitted and moved to sit on the bed next to you, his hand resting on your thigh and his fingers reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“And that gorgeous chin” you added and punched the dimple beneath his mouth.

You looked at one another’s eyes quietly for a prolong moment. Warmth and excitement swimming in the hues of your gaze. You took a deep breath. Your voice came at the same time

“Do you want to make a baby?”

You chuckled but the rest of your laughter went into Henry’s mouth as he leaned to kiss you lovingly, he held onto your cheek with one hand and you gave into his touch, falling into the softness of the mattress with him lying on top of you.

“Have you taken your pill yet?” He inquired between languid kisses. You moaned at the feverish sensation of his fingers venturing from knee to thigh to find the band of your panties and peel them off erotically.

You uttered a breathless no as his teeth sank into the fat of your breath through the green satin of your nightgown and his erected cock pushed against your torso.

Suddenly the thought of him coating your walls with his thick semen became ten times more arousing. You shuddered inside, slick with desire.

“Henry, fuck” you reached to slip him out from his boxers and felt the veins pulsating between your fingers as you squeezed him. “Put a baby in me”

He growled against you chest and pushed your legs apart, lining your slit with his manhood.

“Can you be quiet?” He wondered as he pressed the head of his cock between your swollen petals.

You were moaning from nothing but his lips on your neck, you knew you won’t be able to keep quiet, you never did. He is was too much in every sense, an ardent lover who knew how to stroke every spot inside you.

You shook your head at him and he smiled. His hand went over your mouth and he kissed your forehead apologetically as he pushed inside you.

You cried into his hand, feeling him sink deep into your abyss, his cock an anchor, splitting though the ocean between your legs. He plunged into you passionately, holding onto his own groans which cane as husky gasps.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and your nails bit into the muscle of his ass, urging him to thrust deeper, you orgasm was already building up, the coil inside your gut stretching as he made hard slams into your cervix.

He was bottoming out, grinding roughly against your little nub with every push and pull. The friction of his large body sent little white waves of pleasure that crushed onto your shores, pushing you higher and higher through and endless sky.

“I’m going to come inside you and make you mother” he half whispered in your ear, leaning closer while his hand was still clasped around your jaw. It was all you needed to hear while his cock filled you. You were swempt away, crying into his humid palm. Endless ecstatic waves licked you within as you flew into bliss. Henry kept fucking your through your orgasm, his cock swelling between the suction of your walls. He removed his hand and replaced it with his mouth, groaning helplessly inside you.

He held for another moment, lost to his own pleasure until finally he stilled with an angry thud into you and filled you with his seed.

You laid sweaty in his arms while he brushed the rouge sticky hair from your forehead and looked into your eyes enamored, realizing this starts a new chapter of your lives.

#henry cavill #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #Henry cavill headcanon

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hiddendreamer67 · 4 years ago

Text

Giant Mers are Good Mers

That's right, it's MerMay baby! Introducing my new bois. Caspian is a giant siren with influences of Mediterranean monk seals and leopard seals. Beckett is a lil' human who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This piece is a completed oneshot, but I've got a couple ideas for more oneshots with this pairing, including a few ideas for alternate universes (especially after seeing all the fun @ibis-gt seems to be having with AUs of their bois).

Word count: 6,001

Initial prompt idea: human was taken by a giant siren but then let go (on a whim / siren got bored) but human doesn’t know why they were spared so they come back to thank the siren. The siren doesn’t even remember doing that because it was such an insignificant event to them, but now it’s interesting because humans never came on their own.

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Beckett had always been a simple fellow. He grew up in WhiteBridge, on a small town farm with his three older sisters picking on him ceaselessly. While he loved WhiteBridge and its quaint charms, Beck found his true passion in books, and studied at Oxford for several years before scouring the globe for his passion. In his quest for knowledge, Beckett chose to join a month-long excursion out at sea, and found himself regretting that decision a few weeks later.

“Steady on there.” One of the sailors, Michelle, handed him a pair of earplugs. “You’ll need these where we’re going.”

Beckett eyed the little pieces of foam dubiously. “And just where might that be?”

“Siren territory.”

Beck hardly believed in such fairy tales, but to calm the sailor’s superstitions he inserted the plugs as instructed. Siren tales aside, Beckett found himself growing as twitchy as the sailors. The coastline hadn’t been visible for ages due to a large amount of fog accumulation. The stormy skies were foreboding as well, indicating that proper precautions would need to be taken. This far north, the weather reports often indicated rocky waves far beyond what should be normal.

Would Beckett sink, out here in the middle of nowhere? Was that to be his fate? The young man began to fret, hastening to make himself useful as the first rolls of thunder sounded off and the waves grew steadily higher.

And then, he heard it. Beckett paused, arms slack on the rope as he attempted to hear that haunting melody. Was the weather playing tricks on him, or was someone calling out to him.

“BECK! EARS!”

Beckett blinked, stunned to find himself standing on the slippery railing. When did he get up here? Beck hastened to climb down, noticing the rest of the crew had their hands firmly clasped over their ears, even with the ear plugs inserted.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Even with the double protection, the voice grew in volume, its booming voice penetrating into their heads. Every single person on board fell victim to its call, the ship’s captain turning the wheel to head towards the beckoning beast. Beckett climbed back up to the railing, plunging overboard into the crashing waves.

With a sputter, Beckett fought to keep his breath, legs kicking desperately against the current. Even in his desperate survival state, the voice called to him, and instinctively Beckett swam in the right direction to answer its call.

Every time the voice paused to take a breath, Beck would regain control for only a moment, his heart pounding as his fate flashed before his eyes with nothing to be done about it. Between one blink and the next, the sky grew darker, a looming shape breaching in the distance. Another blink, and Beckett’s face lost all complexion staring up at his demise.

A great sea serpent, half man half beast, towered with its human half over the pitiful human. With a single shift of its body, the beast created waves that threatened to pull Beck under. Those sharp features and piercing blue eyes were unforgettable, and subconsciously Beck realized this was the last face he would ever see.

Another blink. This time, when the serpent let out a hum, Beckett remained conscious but still out of his own control. His body was lax but his mind manic. The siren reached for him, slimy claws surrounding his form and making Beck shudder as he was raised 50 feet in the air in seconds. Beckett whimpered, coughing out sea water as his gaze was drawn down to the siren’s lips. The creature grinned and revealed its razor-sharp fangs. Taking a deep breath in, the siren revealed the cavernous depths beyond as it prepared to inhale its next meal.

Beckett pleaded nonsense pitifully, tears pouring down his cheeks as the haunting nothingness washed over his mind yet again. Would he even wake once more? Was the beast merciful enough to let Beckett go in his sleep?

When Beckett woke up, he thought he was dead.

He squinted, the sun too bright for his eyes. The sun? What happened to the storm? Stranger yet, the water that had soaked him to the bone was no more. Beck was dry, wrapped in blankets in a stranger’s bed.

“You’re awake.”

Beckett turned his head, his sore muscles protesting the movement. Beside him sat an older looking fellow, hair greying with age. “Who’re you?”

“The name’s Seymour.” Seymour introduced himself. “And who’re you?”

“Beck.” Beckett’s voice felt like he hadn’t spoken in days. “Am I dead?”

“No, but you tried awful hard.” Seymour assured him. “Found you passed out on the shore two days ago. Guessin’ you were part of some shipwreck? Though there wasn’t much wreckage to be found. Awfully impressive for you to have swam that far.”

Is that what happened? Beck frowned, trying to parse out the details. His body ached something terrible. He did remember swimming for a great distance. Had the siren all been a strange vision of his adrenaline-infused thoughts?

“...huh.” Beck settled back into the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. “I… didn’t know I could do that.”

“Well that, or an angel saved you.” Seymour chuckled. “You’re one lucky soul.”

Beck squinted in thought. If that’s what angels looked like, he could understand why all biblical depictions had humans cowering in fear.

(...was it an angel?)

Beckett spent some of the most confusing weeks of his life recovering from the shipwreck. Even as his physical form healed, Beck couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the events that transpired that night. He couldn’t get the notion out of his head that the giant sea serpent was real. It had all felt so lifelike, the claws and the fish breath and the dark melodious tones that haunted his dreams…

Seymour was kind enough to open his home to Beck, offering the traumatized lad a position maintaining his lighthouse while Beckett still fought to gather his wits. “Yer’ not the first.” Seymour assured him with a chuckle. “It’s no water off my back if you want to keep me company while you figure things out.”

You’re not the first. Beckett had cleared his throat, wanting to address that thought. “The other people who wash up on shore… did they ever… see anything?”

Seymour raised a patient eyebrow. “What do you mean, seen? Figure you lot have all seen a lot, what with the wreckage.”

“No, I mean, out at sea.” Beck felt foolish, twiddling his thumbs a bit. “Like a… like a merman.”

To his credit, Seymour did nothing more than a slow blink. “A merman.” He repeated.

“But, not a regular merman.” Beck winced at his own words. Just what was a regular merman? “A big one, like a hundred feet long, and pale white skin, and white locks of hair, and piercing blue eyes-”

“Kid.” Seymour cut him off. “I’ll tell it to ya straight. No, I ain’t ever heard nothing like that.”

Today, Beckett found himself on the cliffside, safely back from the edge as he watched the distant waves. His knees were tucked up to his chest, chin atop them as Beck sat lost in thought. Somewhere out there, Beckett’s giant captor- and later savior- was out there.

Why did the beast let him go? Even further than that, the siren had gone out of its way to give Beck a chance at life. There’s no way Beckett could have made it all the way to the shore on his own, disoriented as he had been.

Despite his better judgement, Beckett had to know the truth. With this foolish notion in mind, Beck set out a few months later, having rented a boat from one of the local fishermen. It took a lot of practice for Beckett to learn how to guide such a vessel, as every crest of a wave made the poor lad jump.

Seymour must think he was mad. Often the kind old man reminded Beckett that he didn’t have to conquer his fear of the waves directly, but Beck had just shook his head. Seymour couldn’t understand the debt Beck felt to the creature that had saved his life, and his curiosity kept him captive. Beckett wouldn’t be free until he had answers.

Of course, once he was out on the waters, Beck realized how foolish of a plan this truly was- he knew nothing about aquatic navigation. Every part of the ocean looked the same to him. Even worse, his memories of the last sea journey were extremely muddled. How on earth was he going to find the same location?

And even as Beck drifted in waters that may or may not be similar, the human realized he had no surefire way of gaining the siren’s attention. He settled for calling out often, hoping his carrying voice would be enough. Did the beast understand english? It was deceptively human-looking.

Beckett’s throat grew parched, and Beck sat down a moment to take careful sips of water from his dwindling bottle. The sky was growing darker, and a familiar fog had begun to roll in. An eerie chill began to creep up the back of Beckett’s neck. Suddenly, this plan wasn’t feeling so wise.

That’s when he heard it. The familiar song of his dreams was echoing across the water. Beck had forgotten the feeling, his limbs stiffening against his will like a marionette pulled taunt.

Blink. A gigantic fish tail, just the tip cresting the waves. Blink. Beckett found himself in the waves, gasping as he kicked frantically to keep his head above water. Blink. All too soon, Beck found himself clasped between those claws, water dripping from his locks as he stared at those terrifying chompers.

Oh god. This was a terrible idea. What should he do? What was there to do? All the blood left Beckett’s face, watching the siren lick its lips. It raised Beck higher, dangling the human by the back of his shirt above a now gaping maw. Beckett let out an unholy screech, realizing he had made a terrible mistake.

Beckett squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the words out of his lungs before he never got the chance again. “WHY DID YOU SPARE ME?!”

To Beck’s great relief, he didn’t find himself lowered onto the beast’s tongue. Instead, after the longest pause of Beckett’s life, he opened his eyes to see the siren’s mouth had gone slack.

“What?”

Beck’s eyebrows shot up into his scalp, shocked to hear the siren actually speak. Guess that meant it understood english, too. Beckett cautiously raised his gaze, meeting the siren’s eyes instead of its teeth. The creature looked confused, to say the least.

“You-” Beck cleared his throat, knowing he had to keep the siren’s attention lest he become a meal. “You spared me.” The siren’s brow furrowed further. Beckett frowned. “You… you saved my life? I mean, first you threatened it, but… 3 months ago? You- our ship, and the song, and… I woke up on the shore…”

Unfortunately, despite being the most momentous occasion of Beckett’s life, the giant sea serpent didn’t seem to have given the night a second thought. Beck couldn’t stop the sinking feel in his chest, knowing this whole journey was pointless after all.

The siren slowly shook his head. “That sounds unlike me.”

“It’s true!” Beckett insisted, especially because his life seemed to be on the line. “I was baffled too, but for some reason you spared me, and-and I don’t know why either! It’s been driving me insane. Why else would I sail all the way out here trying to find you?”

“You came looking for me?” This, at least, caused the siren to raise an interested eyebrow. “That would be a first.”

Beck nodded quickly. “Yes! I’ve been shouting for you all day. And before that I’ve been training for weeks, saving up for a downpayment to borrow Ben’s boat, which I’ll probably be losing now that I have no idea where that ended up…” Beckett grimaced, once again meeting the siren’s gaze. “Sorry, I’ve been told I have a tendency to sidetrack conversations in uncomfortable situations. Boat’s not important. Please don’t eat me.”

To both of their surprise, the siren let out an amused snort, the hot fishy air rustling Beck’s hair.

“I apologize for that.” The creature had the decency to look sheepish, even as its words curdled Beckett’s blood. “It’s nothing personal.”

“Wait, what?!” Beckett immediately began screeching, attempting to squirm out of the claws still holding him captive.

“Stop!” The siren hissed, his grip tightening painfully around Beck’s ribs. “You will fall with that behavior.”

Beck winced, continuing to struggle against the crushing appendages. “That was kind of the idea. I choose waves over teeth.”

“Waves over…?” The siren shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I will not eat you.”

Beck found that hard to believe. He squinted, judging the gigantic face before him even as the pressure stayed tight around his chest. “So, you were going to?”

“Yes.”

“But now you’re not.”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Because you’re quite interesting, little human.” The siren admitted. “Your question confuses me. Do you want to be eaten?”

Beck chose wisely to avoid that question. “My name’s Beckett.” He said instead. “Beck, for short. Not little human, or anything.”

The siren blinked. It must be strange putting a name to your not-food. “My name is Caspian.”

Caspian. For some reason, Beck hadn’t actually pictured the siren having a name. Or talking. Or generally possessing much humanity at all… the self-reflection made him feel a bit guilty.

“It’s nice to meet you, Caspian.” Beck greeted. He glanced around, realizing the sun had finished setting. “Can we circle back to the boat issue? I mean, I’m glad this hasn’t ended fatally, but it is getting late.”

“Hold on.” Caspian frowned. “You spent all that effort to reach me, only to leave? Little Beck, your story has holes.”

“No, no no no.” Beck quickly shut that down, hastily trying to avoid any possibility of a vengeful siren. “No that’s not it at all. It’s just, your time must be very valuable, and I don’t want to intrude. And also, contrary to popular belief, I'm not a great swimmer. Hence the boat.”

“Hmm.” Caspian seemed to consider this for several moments. The giant seemed to reach a conclusion, but Beck was uncertain what it was as he was raised up above Caspian’s head. “Climb on.”

“Climb on?” Beck repeated, confused.

“And hold on tight.” Caspian advised, opening his palm and tilting it so that Beck slid off with a yelp. “I was under the impression you need air to survive?”

“YES! Yes, that is- yes, I need that.” Beckett confirmed, quickly grabbing onto Caspian’s hair as best he could. Not the easiest task in the world with how everything, including himself, was soaked. Nevertheless, Beck was wise enough to prepare himself for whatever a massive sea serpent might have planned.

Without further warning, Caspian lowered himself into the water, only keeping the top of his head above the waves for Beck’s benefit. Beck hastily lowered himself onto his stomach, not wanting to slide off Caspian’s head as the mer began to swim through the ocean faster than a speedboat.

“Where are you going!” Beck shouted above the wind whipping at his face. He squinted, trying to see where the siren was headed but having no luck. Were they swimming to the boat? Had Beck really gotten so far away from it?

Unfortunately, the siren himself offered no answers. The night sky and fog did not help Beck’s visibility. In these conditions, he was practically blind.

After several minutes of this less-than-ideal water travel, Caspian came to an abrupt stop. Beck frowned, finding himself staring at a rocky cliffside shore. Was Caspian trying to return him to the lighthouse again? But none of this looked familiar…

Caspian raised his head above the waves, sending Beck scrambling to keep his hold. It didn’t matter, as those familiar claws came up and plucked the human from Caspian’s hair.

“Hold your breath.” Caspian advised. This was Beck’s only warning as he was cupped between Caspian’s hands, the mer diving beneath the surface.

Thankfully, Beckett was intelligent enough to take the warning to heart. He held his breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut to avoid getting saltwater in them. The pressure became quite intense as Caspian dove several dozen meters down with ease. It made Beck feel like his head would pop at any moment. Was Caspian trying to drown him? But why go through all the effort of telling Beck to hold his breath, if only to drag it out?

Just as Beck could take it no longer and felt on the verge of passing out, Caspian breached the surface. Immediately Beck began to suck in large gulps of air, snorting to get the water that got stuck unpleasantly up his nose.

Despite being above the surface, Beck couldn’t see anything. He tried not to panic, heart racing thanks to all the uncertainties of the situation. “Where- where are we?”

“Home.”

Caspian’s answer only brought on further questions. Home? What kind of home did a gigantic merman have, anyway? Slowly his human eyes began to adjust to the darkness, noticing that bioluminescent moss seemed to give the space just enough light to see the outlines of shapes. It appeared they were in some sort of underground cavern, the water lapping against a craggy water-worn shore.

“Ah, yes. Of Course. Home.” Beck tried not to think about the several deadly reasons a wild animal might welcome him into its living space. But thankfully, Caspian wasn’t just an animal. He could talk, he seemed half human- that had to amount to something, right?

Of course, Caspian had still planned to eat him. So. There’s that.

“You’re still not gonna eat me, right?” Beck asked, not about to leave something so important to chance.

“Right.” Caspian sighed, as if the question were a mild annoyance and not tied to Beckett’s entire livelihood. “But you have disturbed my hunting time. I’m hungry.”

“Not sure that’s entirely my fault…” Beckett murmured to himself.

Caspian lowered his cupped palms to the rocky shore, setting Beck down away from the water’s edge. “Stay here.”

“Wha-? Stay here?” Beck became alarmed, taking a few nervous steps to catch his footing on the slippery slope. “Where are you going?”

“Do not worry.” Caspian assured Beck, easing himself back into the water. “I’ll bring you back something to eat as well.” With that, Caspian dove back into the water, leaving Beck alone in this dark murky cave.

Beckett blinked, shocked to find himself alone in this enclosure. “I don’t think he knows what humans eat.” Beck grimaced, not eager to see just what Caspian would be bringing back for him. Would it be wriggling? Slimy? Would it be human? The thought made Beck want to throw up.

Beckett shivered, feeling chilly now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. He found himself in an unknown underwater cave off the coastline somewhere, still soaked to the bone in his wet rags. The icy temperature in here was freezing, and the water wasn’t any warmer. Was Beck going to die of frostbite here? How long was Caspian planning on keeping him prisoner?

Beckett walked up and down the shore, looking for any driftwood or materials to make a fire. He had no luck, of course, but even if he had Beck didn’t know the first thing about starting a fire. So with nothing to warm himself, what should Beck do? Beckett knew from all the books he’d read on environmental conditions that staying in his wet clothing was one of the worst strategies for survival, but standing around naked in the freezing cave didn’t sound any more appealing. Not to mention, Beck had no way of drying his clothes even if they left his person. He would just have to put the soaking wet rags back on eventually.

Making a foolish decision, Beck kept his clothes on in the hopes that his own body temperature would help dry them eventually. Coming from the man who went out to sea to search for his would-be murderer all day, perhaps Beck shouldn’t be treating himself as a good source for advice.

“What was I thinking?” Beck murmured, pacing back and forth to try and keep the blood flowing to his extremities. His fingertips were growing numb, and Beck shoved them in his armpits to try and keep them warm.

Should he try and escape? Beckett guessed there must be some underwater entrance to this cavern, but there was no way of knowing how deep he would have to dive to reach it, how long the tunnel itself was, nor how high he’d have to swim to reach the surface on the other side. Beckett wasn’t known to be a particularly decent swimmer. Even just the idea of getting in the water right now made Beck shudder, not eager to get soaking wet once more.

Beckett let out a yawn, the excitement of the day catching up to him. He was cold, and tired. Nothing sounded better than stripping off these clothes and lying down in a warm, dry bed back at Seymour’s.

Oh gosh, Seymour. What was the old man gonna think when Beck didn’t return home like he claimed? He knew Seymour had little faith in Beck’s sailing abilities, but Beckett had foolishly promised to be careful. Would Seymour mourn him? Worse yet, would Seymour try to send out a rescue? What if Caspian found him and wasn’t so merciful?

Beckett was dead on his feet by the time the water began to shift. Beck slapped himself out of his stupor, standing to attention in his semi-dry clothes as the giant merman emerged.

Caspian pulled himself partially up onto the shore, holding out one hand to Beck. As expected, none of this looked edible in its current form. There was a live octopus, still wriggling around, a half dozen oysters, a few slimy eels, and a few other squirming entities Beckett wasn’t certain how to classify.

“Oh, thanks.” Beck tried to keep the disgust off his facial features. Even with not eating all day, Beck didn’t have much of an appetite. But would Caspian be mad if Beck didn’t eat it? It’s not like Beckett asked for it in the first place...

“I was uncertain what you would like.” Caspian admitted, a soft frown gracing his features as he nudged the human with his fingertips, encouraging Beck to eat. “Will this be good for you? Do not be shy, I ate my fill already.”

Beck cleared his throat. “Well, uh, some of this is what humans can eat, but we don’t eat it… raw. Or alive, usually.”

“Hmm.” Caspian considered this for a moment, taking one of the eels between his claws. Caspian raised the creature to his lips. In one swift motion, Caspian used his fangs to tear off the eel’s head, sending a small spurt of blood spattering down.

Beck cried out, quickly covering his head with his arms to try and avoid getting caught in the rain. “COOKED! IT NEEDS TO BE COOKED!” Beck hastily corrected, turning a bit green as Caspian tried to once again offer him the bloody corpse. “It needs to be prepared right, too, I don’t think I’m supposed to eat a lot of stuff found in live fish, they usually gut ‘em and stuff, and I’ve never been one for sushi in the first place.”

Caspian licked his lips, clearing away the blood stains as he tilted his head like a pup. “What do you mean, ‘cooked’?”

Beck slowly uncovered his head, thankful Caspian seemed to have backed off for a moment. “Right, cooked.” Beck nodded to himself. “Guess you wouldn’t know what that is, living in the ocean and all. Um, do you know what fire is?” It was Caspian’s turn to nod. “Wait, you do? How?”

“Fire chokes out life.” Caspian explained. “It creates the smoke and the ash that destroys the shores.”

“Well… yeah, I guess it does do that, sometimes.” Beckett admitted. “But we use it in smaller, healthy doses. You use it to cook your food, usually heating it up and changing it to be healthy.”

Caspian seemed more confused the further this conversation went on.

“Unfortunately, there’s no fuel here anyways.” Beck gestured to their surroundings. “And I don’t know how to make a fire anyways, so-”

“No fire.” Caspian said sternly. He sounded more like a stern parent, banning experimentation with firecrackers in the house.

“No fire.” Beck confirmed. He glanced at the ceiling. “Probably wouldn’t have been the best idea anyways, all enclosed like this. But anyways, no. I can’t accept your fish. Thank you, it was very kind of you, I’ll be forever grateful, but if I eat that I will be sick.”

“...hmm.” Caspian looked- disappointed? Frustrated? It was hard to tell the mer’s emotions, but Caspian at the very least seemed to understand Beck’s meaning, as he pulled his handful of fish back to himself. With a thoughtful expression, giving Beck one last option to protest, Caspian tilted the whole mixture into his mouth, chewing it into a paste and swallowing with ease.

Gross. Beck kept this thought to himself, grateful he was not on the other side of Caspian’s abs himself as the pleased merman gave his stomach a few pats.

“Then what will you eat?” Caspain asked, laying down to be more at eye level with the little man.

“Well, uh, I suppose I can always eat after I get home.” Beckett chose his words carefully, still uncertain what Caspian’s intentions were. “My friend would usually make meals with me. Stew, most of the time.”

Caspian’s eyebrows furrowed. “I can make stew with you.”

“No, you can’t.” Beck corrected. Gently. “No fire, remember? Fire’s needed for stew, too. And we don’t have any of the other ingredients. Vegetables, seasonings, broth, cooked meat… stuff like that. And any we got in here would be soaked with sea water, and that’s not great for humans either.”

The giant siren seemed displeased with this answer, obviously intent on keeping the human alive. This, at least, was one positive note in a storm of negativity for the evening.

With a displeased hum, Caspian reached out his hand towards Beckett. Instinctively Beck flinched away, worried the siren had gotten bored and wanted to do away with him, but all that happened was a giant digit began carefully stroking the top of Beck’s head and down the length of his back.

“Uh...what are you doing?” Beck asked, still stiff as a board.

Caspian didn’t seem inclined to answer. Instead he tilted his head, curious blue eyes intently studying Beckett. “Can you sing?”

Beckett blinked. “Can I what?”

“Can you sing?” Caspian repeated, and after Beck gave a nod: “sing for me.”

“Oh, well, I can sing, but not very well, mind you.” Beck admitted, looking a bit sheepish. The stage had always been his sister’s forte. “Certainly not to your caliber. I don’t think you want to hear me sing at all, actually.”

“Yes I do.” Caspian insisted gently. “Sing.”

Beck let out a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for such a task. What song does one even use to serenade a siren? After careful consideration, Beckett selected an old nursery rhyme from his childhood, both for its brief length and easy melody.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star-” Beckett began, his voice shaking. He cleared his throat, trying to project a bit more even as Caspian leaned in to hear. “How I wonder what you are. Like a diamond in the sky, up above the world so high…”

Beckett had shut his eyes, trying to forget about any pressures to perform. A nice benefit to this impromptu concert is that Caspian had paused his petting to allow Beck to focus. “Twinkle twinkle, little star… how… er, ...up… ah…y’know what? I’ve forgotten the last line, actually.”

Beck grimaced, opening his eyes. Caspian was as difficult to read as ever, the siren’s face passive as Beckett awaited any sort of review.

“That was it?” Caspian clarified.

“Yeah, not a very long song.” Beckett agreed. “Meant for children, y’know? Just to… well I don’t know the point of it, actually, I guess it’s just something to sing.”

“Ah.” Caspian drummed his fingers along the rocks. “It was…”

Beckett waited not so patiently. “Well?” He spoke up. “I told you I’m a lousy singer.”

Considering the siren made no effort to disagree, Caspian held the same opinion, yet he wore a pained expression. Perhaps Caspian had held out hope for Beck after all? But then again, even if he were a renowned opera singer, how could a human voice ever possibly appeal to a siren?

“I thought everyone could sing.” Caspian admitted quietly.

For some reason, this bashful admission is what finally set Beck roaring with laughter. Beck clutched at his sides, doubled over with mirth as a concerned siren watched. Caspian let out a noise of concern, reaching out his hand to prod Beck in the side.

“No- I’m good!” Beck hastily assured him, pushing away the finger as if he had any chance of telling the siren what to do. “It’s just- ah, fuck. What a day, you know?” And with that, tears began to pour down Beckett’s cheeks, the poor exhausted boy helpless to stop them as he alternated between laughing and sobbing.

Now Caspian let out a whine, the trill noise echoing across the cavern walls as Caspian scooped the human up into his hands. Beck gasped, momentarily without air as he was forced against Caspian’s chest. “Shh, shhh.” Caspian hushed him, patting his back like he was a child.

Well, what did it matter? Beck felt like a child. He was tired, and hungry, and cold, and he just wanted to go home. Unable to work on any of those things, Beckett tried instead to take the comfort that was given to him, so overwhelmed by the day that this might as well happen.

Beck hiccupped, his tears still coming but too exhausted to keep wailing. Beckett leaned into Caspian’s chest, the smooth seal texture feeling surprisingly warm and dry for a creature that spent most of its life in the ocean. If he focused, Beck could hear a rhythmic thumping. It was Caspian’s heart, just on the other side of this ribcage.

“I wanna go home.” Beck murmured, more to himself than the siren who wouldn’t listen. “I just wanna go home.”

A rumbling sensation filled Beck’s ears, which he slowly recognized as Caspian’s singing. Beck closed his eyes, allowing himself to succumb to the call.

…

“...Beck?”

---

“-OI! Wake UP!”

Beck coughed, startled awake as he found himself once again doused in sea water. He blinked, disoriented to feel the surface beneath him was rocking like a boat. Before Beck could ponder that out, a bright light shined directly in his eyes, making him squint.

“Blimey, you look half dead.” Seymour whistled, taking stock of Beck’s appearance.

“I...what?” Beck frowned, looking around. They were on a boat. What happened? Last thing he remembered, Caspian had been coddling him like a wounded babe. “Where’s Caspian?”

“Who?” Seymour didn’t have a clue.

“Caspian! I- the giant siren!” Beck looked around, trying to spot anything in the darkness of night.

“Boy, I think you swallowed too much seawater.” Seymour shook his head, easing Beck back down. “Take it easy, you’re lucky to be alive.” Seymour pulled out an emergency orange blanket, wrapping it firmly around Beck’s shoulders. It was only then that Beck came to the startling conclusion he was naked, stripped of his wet clothes entirely. At least he could see them lying on the deck as well.

“The voice.” Beck insisted, staying down only because his head felt dizzy. “You must have heard him singing? He was singing. What’d I miss this time?”

Seymour had no answers, as far as giant sirens went. Instead, he explained his side of things. “When you didn’t come back yesterday, I came out to look for ya.” Seymour explained. “You must have a guardian angel after all. Caught you in my sights only by change with the spotlight, adrift in the waves. No idea how the hell you’ve got a speck of life in you, jumping in without a liferaft or lifejacket or nothin’. Holy hell son, ya got a death wish, there’s easier ways of going out.”

“I- what?” Beck frowned. “No, that… that’s not what happened.”

“Hypothermia can cause hallucinations.” Seymour swore under his breath. “Shit, you’re in a worse state than I thought. Never should have let you come out here alone in the first place, nevermind with Ben’s boat. He’s gonna kill ya, y’know, if you do manage to survive the night.”

“Didn’t mean to lose the boat.” Beckett rubbed at his eyes. “Got left behind on the way to the caverns.”

“To the caverns, he says.” Seymour rolled his eyes, handing Beck a warm thermos. “Drink. Sit. And don’t fall asleep.” With these last instructions, Seymour moved over to the captain’s chair, starting the motor and steering the boat back towards shore.

Beck stared at the waves passing by, sipping gently at the contents of the thermos. Tasted like hot lemon tea. Beck would have preferred hot chocolate, if shipwreck survivors were allowed to have preferences.

Was it a shipwreck? Did he jump in? No… no it was Caspian, wasn’t it? Dumb seal’s fault for it all. That, Beck was certain. Too bad he couldn’t charge the siren for Ben’s boat.

Before, Beck had barely escaped with his life, lost and confused about his potential giant savior. Now, he knew so much more than he had before. Caspian was real. Caspian’s name was Caspian. Caspian had intended to eat him, didn’t, and then let him go. Caspian had forgotten him.

Would Caspian forget him again? Why did that notion make Beck feel so uneasy?

It wasn’t like Beck owed Caspian anything, truly. The guy had saved his life twice now, but only after endangering it in the first place. But why did Caspian let him go this time? It seemed as if Caspian was intent on keeping him around like some sort of amusing lil’ pet. What had changed?

Beck’s mind was too tired to process through such things. He sipped more of the tea, growing drowsy.

“No sleeping!” Seymour yelled.

“Yes sir!” Beck jolted upright, regretting it when his head pounded. The sound of the waves had changed. Beck could hear them crashing against the shore, indicating they were almost to the dock.

Seymour expertly steered the ship into the harbor, a feat which took a good deal of skill in the middle of the night. Once securely fastened, Seymour offered Beck a hand, hauling the boy to his feet and keeping Beck steady all the way up to the lighthouse.

“Alright, in you get.” Seymour instructed, easing Beck into bed. He piled more blankets onto Beckett, disappearing briefly to grab a warm compress which he placed on Beckett’s forehead.

“I really did see him.” Beckett murmured, closing his eyes as the warmth lulled him into a deep slumber.

Seymour let out a low sigh. “I’m sure you did.” Seymour murmured, patting Beck’s arm.

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant mermaid #giant mers #giant siren #OCs #Caspian #Beckett #giant!siren!caspian #human!beckett

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