#Crew of The Black Abyss

[aromanticasterisms]

ah. so elynas and durin really are siblings huh

[pttucker]

A TV panel installed above the bar was broadcasting scenes from a live concert. A pretty popular idol group was currently performing there. One of them was a monkey, the other was a dragon, and the last one was an Archangel. The Great Sage wielding the mic delivered an impassioned vibrato-filled roar, which was promptly followed up by the shower of colourful spotlights focusing on the rear of the stage as Uriel made her entrance. Yoo Sangah elegantly chewing on the intestines muttered out. "They are really popular these days." "I joined their fan club yesterday. The Uriel Force is seriously…!" When Lee Jihye piped up, Lee Gilyoung sent in a quick tackle. "I can't bear to look at their performance anymore after seeing the one Dionysus has put on, you know? Especially the dude over there…"

I'm gonna be so lost once I start reading fanfic for this novel. I'm never going to be able to tell what actually happened in canon or what was just fic because the canon is like this.

THEY WENT AND MADE A BAND AFTER THE SCENARIOS WERE OVER!?

And Dionysus too, though honestly he's a bit more believable than these guys.

Oh man, the affect Kim Dokja has had on this worldline. Especially when you compare them to the three that we just saw a few chapters back in the 0th turn.

[darkdemeter]

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄

◤✘BUCKY BARNES COLUMN | Dark Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader ISSUE NO.#...

NOTES: ↳ Yes. Yes... YAAAAS! IM DOING IT! I'm frickin' writing a pirate Bucky! Mmmm! Fuckin' love pirate stuff, I'm just living for Bucky being a hot pirate commanding a vessel on the high seas. WARNINGS! ↳ Pirate Bucky — semi dark Bucky — submissive/soft captive reader — possessive Bucky — SMUT 18+, Minors DNI! — P in V sex — memory loss/wiping via magic (reader affected) — light use of physical and sexual acts to avoid conflict — indirect breeding kink? — pet names — brief consumption of alcohol — I think that's it? SUMMARY: ↳ He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him. Yet overboard and on the tide you sail across, in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul… a song so familiar yet unknown. Forgotten. Bucky reminds you yet again that there is no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there.

✎ 4.1k

@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic

↳ BUCKY BARNES TAGLISTS

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  There lays a song forgotten in your heart and soul, distantly faint as the receding tide to the shore. With each spare moment of peace you were given to dwell beneath the lapping waters, you spend a portion of it in search of that song. And what time remains within the falling sand’s glass, you bask in the blue and faded black abyss. 

  Tonight is no different. You could not remember the forgotten song that lulls you tenderly, pulling through skin and scale, calling you somewhere far, much too far, away from the balancing hull above. 

  You could not abandon your captain. Betray the trust between you both. After all, it was he who found you washed atop the rocky crevices of the island, who rescued you from a fate of drying out in the sun’s merciless heat. Who took care of you when there was nothing left of the life you once knew. 

  To break that earnt trust, to betray him, you can’t think of anything far more heartbreaking than that. 

“Time’s up, my Siren,” the voice of your captain beckons you. He calls you to the surface. 

  A sigh ripples through the water and your head tilts up towards the surface, the darkened slits in your milky white eyes shrink away from the moonlight penetrating through the waves. The long limb of your tail sweeps back and forth, thrusting you upwards, skin and scales shimmering brighter as you near the barrier between water and air. The breach pulls a lungful gasp of the night's chillingly crisp air, the only warmth coming from The Avenger. 

  Hair drench-pressed and thinned forms a curtain over your features as you peer up at the looming figure pridefully arching over the ship’s wooden rail. The slivered slits of your eyes grow wider as they focus on him, with a lantern beside him, glass scorched and worn by smoke, it illuminates the upper portion of his body. His white shirt ruggedly wrinkled and loosened to showcase a muscled chest, skin tanned by the sun’s heated kiss, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black ink painted legendary stories over his body in memorabilia. Stories forged into his flesh for all to study and cower in fear.

  He summons you with a kink of his finger and you obey his silent command with an all too eager nod. Around you, the water spirals into a column and rises up, pushing you higher to reach the wooden railing. Aboard the ship, the crew is merry in their celebrations. Another successful day of conquest and battle on the high seas, another amassed sum of gold and valuables to add to hull and reputation. 

  Of course spirits would be high and cheerful tonight. And of course, what was a conquest without the captain’s prize at the end of it all?

  Gathering yourself over the rail and onto the deck, the glistening shine of your tail morphs into two shapely legs, the milky hues of your eyes and other remnants of your true body hide in their human disguise. Your eyes find the hourglass on his opposite side, the sand all gathered in the bottom glass pit. Your captain holds something out for you and you graciously accept his gift, pulling the thin veil of your robe over your naked body. 

  His ocean blue eyes scan you up and down, the left corner of his plush, chapped lips turns upwards. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He purrs his question and it brings a cold chill to run up and down your spine, your lungs freeze with what little breath they had at that moment. 

  He turns his body properly to face you, burly shoulders and thick muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. His eyes fold slightly into a sharpened stare of interrogation. 

  “I–I don’t…” You shake your head, breath hitching. “I don’t understand, Captain. I search for nothing that is not you.”

  “Aye?” 

  Your gaze drops to the limb of his remaining flesh hand, the other limb itself brings an uncomfortable yet hazy familiarity, you dare not to look at it up close when in the awoken presence of his intimidating stature. Often you would question its being there and admire its raw and unique - mystical - materials, when your captain lay beside you fast asleep. 

  Wrapped tightly over and under the callousness of his palm, the golden chain twinkles in the pale moonlight, the larger pearl at its centre holstered by binding gold and tinier pearls, beneath the gilded net a more refined shape of a pearl dances on its link. 

  However, your mesmerised pupils flicker up in an instant, brought to the attention of your captain awaiting your obedient answer. A noise is pitched in your throat with the answer but it dies swiftly before its deliverance. 

  Your vision focuses behind him then, up near the ship’s helm, her fingers lace slowly in their hypnotic movement as the fabric of her scarlet magic is weaved together. A warning. You do your best to hide the distressed visage of fear, batting your eyelashes and brushing aside the death of your verbal response, you bow your body forward submissively to his that towers over you.

  When your lips touch his, he almost instantly devours yours in a hungry kiss, the soft caress of your fingers tracing the curves of his chest brings pride and lust to possessively reel you into him, your nude front colliding against the hardened wall of his own. 

  Your hands run their course of exploration up the swollen bulk of his arms until they find purchase and entangle themselves in his dark locks. His own hands ravage your body, kneading the flesh and slim muscle of your hips.

  He groans when you submit to his overpowering will, mouth parting to his eager tongue that shoots forward like a fired cannon, aimed to dominate you in every sense of the word. Your soft whimpers beneath him bring him unimaginable pleasure, the sort that drives him to seek it evermore, with no seeming end to his insatiable hunger for what is you; your entire being. Wolves are known to be ravenous beasts. It’s why he’s known by the moniker as the White Wolf. 

  His tongue fiercely dances over yours, swirling and his bottom teeth tease you by nipping your lip, earning a high pitched squeal from you. He chuckles, the sound rich and dark in its intention. Your core comes alight, burning hotly and the once cool air dissipates as heat courses through every vein and nerve in your body, your mind swimming in the ocean pools of his eyes. Eyes that at times are the only thing you need to be connected to the sea. 

  The prominent tent of his erected endowment presses against your stomach and lower abdomen. You finally pull away, however, in his caging embrace it’s not very far you’re able to move back. 

  “Wait for me in my cabin, little Siren,” he orders gruffly. Your mouth falls agape and you sputter in your rattled confusion. 

  “But I—” Still he penetrates you with that cold stare. It prods at you with radiant intensity, it matches the ominous scarlet glow that now burns brighter now as it moves down the upper deck’s stairs. Your eyes dart between the woman who controls the rolling waves of red magic and the ferocity of your captain’s hardpressed gaze. 

  Your head bounces quickly. “Yes...” 

  A few words of compliance are cut off by a gasp. As you attempt to follow his order and return to his cabin, he halts you within his metallic grasp and pulls you back in, curled lips mere inches from your own, in the clutches of his brazen hold, he commands your attention. Your hands are forced to rest over his chest. 

  He drawls with a warning growl, “Yes?”

  “Yes, Captain Barnes.”

  Bucky nods his head once and lets you go, his eyes flicker between the cabin door and you, silently instructing you to hurry along. Your bare feet barely make a sound over the wooden deck in your traversal towards the cabin, where you would await your captain to claim his prize. Treasure that he greedily gets to have all to himself. The conquest he takes glee in ravishing himself full of. 

  Once you’re tucked inside, exactly where he wants you, Bucky scratches at his stubbled jaw, his recent shave already beginning to grow in again. Wanda approaches his side, the fabric of her magic ceasing at her fingertips like embers passing over into lowly ashes. 

  “That was a close one,” Bucky growls, his tongue that savours your taste runs over his teeth. She hisses with a hushed tone, “With each outing she is given to delve into the sea, my magic weakens, Captain.”

  His eyes roll to glare at the woman beside him. She sighs with a bow of her head, eyes downcast as to not provoke him into thinking her words a challenge. 

  “All I mean to say is that you must reinforce her rules. She’s beginning to suspect far too much, and with each piece of recollection, my power is sapped by her own. Enforce her rules once more.”

  Bucky’s shoulders shrug upwards with an all too arrogant huff, haughty in his conviction. He idly tilts his flesh hand, admiring the piece of you he has wrapped up in his iron grasp. 

  “She will do well to keep in mind her place. She’s intimidated.”

  “She’s conflicted, Captain.” Her words bring about a scowl to Bucky’s face, lips coiled into a snarl and nose wrinkling, eyes thinning. “And it will be a matter of time before she is free of you, and you will be known as the captain who lost his siren.”

  The bridge of this knowledge leaves Bucky in a state of strife. An aspect to his notorious reputation was garnered by your captivity. The White Wolf known by all as the fearsome pirate captain who tamed a siren; held you in the oyster of his clutches. If he did lose you, then his reputation would be suffering a heavy loss. As if to sense his change of demeanour, her hands raise up with her glowing, magic tipped fingers. His nostrils flare and the harsh prestige that made him a force not to be trifled with, he commands,  “Do it.”

  Bucky struts off with a roll of thunder beneath his leather worn boots, swiping up a half drunk bottle of rum and swallows an animalistic gulp, joining in on the festivities of his crew. Wanda observes her captain for a moment before diverting her attention towards the cabin. Her hands fold over one another, and with her palms outstretched, the scarlet hue dances through the air in a thin, cloudy blanket, searching and finding the miniscule gap beneath the wooden door. 

  He pummels into you until your back pushes far into the mattress, eliciting sharp whines and sultry moans from your parted lips, breath caught in a pattern of shallow pants. He chases after his second high as he drives his cock deep into you, the sound of skin slapping skin perverts the cabin’s air and already you begin to feel your core tremble in its own pursuit for its fourth orgasm. With each powerful snap of his hips, his throat chokes out a grunt in his exertions, the girth of his cock sinks deep into the channel of your hot, velvety cunt. 

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls lowly with a hiss, “so fuckin’ tight! You feel so good, you’re— taking me so well.” 

  With an exceptionally powerful rut of his hips and he has you on the precipice of screaming, thighs quivering in their hold around his waist, heels digging into the dip of his large, muscular back. Any coherent thoughts and words die on the vine of your vocal cords, only able to procure sounds of pleasure, to chant his name over and over again. 

  “Captain Barnes!” you mewl with fervour. Bucky’s chest vibrates with a husky chuckle. “That’s right, scream my name, let the crew hear you, Love. Let them hear how drunk you are for my cock.” 

  His one palm is laced with sweat, thick and roughened fingers squeeze yours in a passionate display of his dark possessiveness over you. Your captain could be very jealous when another’s eyes lingered on you for even a second too long, many others had suffered the brunt of his fury - weapons ablaze - and you in the end suffered the brunt of his envy with his cock pounding into you for the next several hours. 

  To remind you to whom it was you belong to. 

  His lips suckle one of the erected peaks of your breasts, moaning as his tongue leaves a wet trail around it before passing over to the second to repeat the treatment. Your head turns to the side sharply when the head of his cock splits you open even further than you could previously imagine, hitting a hidden crevice that leaves you without breath. 

  He gauges your reaction, the colour of your eyes blurring, phasing between the natural milky white canvases and the hue of your disguise, your canines and incisors now elongated, all because of the pleasure that pools at the junction where your bodies meet. But for a moment, you catch the glimmer of gold still wrapped around his hand, glimmering metal gnawing and rubbing across his skin, you’re torn between your euphoria and clouded curiosity. 

  “Say it again,” he grunts with a hard thrust that makes his muscles ripple insanely beneath his skin.

  “C’mon, say it for your captain, Love.” 

  Your lips and tongue drag across the flesh of his wrist, the pulse of his racing heart beats through, you can almost taste the rhythm. His sweat tastes strong with his musk, a strong flavour of the salty sea, sandy beaches and gunpowder. 

  You moan softly, almost in a whisper, “Captain… C-Captain Barnes.”

  The effect you have on him is indescribable to him. Never has he been able to put it into words, all he can do is feel it; carnally. The repetitive pounding into that deeper and sweeter spot has your back arching up, the smooth layer of your sweat covered body rubs against his, able to feel each defining muscle, he uses his metal hand to grip hold of one of your thighs, angling you so that you’re spread further apart for him. Your eyes begin to fall heavy and roll back into your skull in your drunken haze, the shimmer of scarlet presently blooms from time to time in them.  

  “That’s right. You belong to me, little Siren. It’s my cock that has you dripping wet.” His thrusts become faster, losing the precise edge he had before, his climax inevitably as close as your own. Your nails embed crescent moons into the skin of his one hand while the other bites into his shoulder. 

  “I’m the only man— fuck! The only man who gets to have you like this. Shit… shit. ’M going to fill you up.” 

  “Please, please… Cap—”

  “Aye, I’m going to fill you up, have you nice ‘nd full until my cum is leaking out of your little cunt, Siren. Fuck… you want that, don’t you? I know you do.” 

  You gasp with each attempt to breathe, each push and pull of his cock strikes you like a match to light the powder keg, the explosion of your climaxes comes as a white hot flash in your vision, momentarily blinding you. Your hot walls squeeze around his large endowment, forcing him to thrust back and forth even harder, grunting hot breaths against the shell of your ear. 

  His seed is flushed into the channel of your pussy in thick, seething spurts that paint your walls that milk him for every precious drop. 

  What he gives makes your lower abdomen weigh a little heavier, a little bit fuller than you were before. His hips grow slower with each dissipating explosion from his tip. His large chest expands hugely with every intake of air to his lungs before deflating as a pleased groan. 

  In his reverie of contentment, having had his fill of his prize - for now - he withdraws his softening cock from your pussy, a moistened pop echoes in the emptiness of your thoughts. Bucky rolls off of you to lay at your side, atop the furs and silken drapes of the bed. Before you can make a move he uses his metal arm to drag you in closer, tucking you into his side, the coldness of his fingers skimming the delicate texture of your arm. 

  The soothing rock of the ship is enough to lull you to sleep, the lids of your eyes inching closer and closer together. 

  “Still deny that you found nothing?” 

  His question only brings your brows to knit together. You shake your head and huddle closer into his side, basking in the comforting warmth of his body. Why on earth would he ask you such a silly question? As if there was anything of importance that outranked him, by being at his side. 

  The answer you give is instant in its resolve, “I don’t understand, Captain. I needn’t find anything out there… I have you.” 

  Your answer, though unable to see it from your position, pleases him and his lips curl into a toothy smirk, long sweeps of his dark brown hair tousled about in his post sex state. You lay your head against his chest to hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, eyes closing to seek rest and refuge in the arms of your beloved captain. The man that grants you safety, that promises you nights of passion followed by the comfort of his body next to yours. All he asks in return is your loyalty. Your devotion.

  For you to be his siren. 

  Behind the blurry curtain of sleep layered over your eyes, you awaken and by your estimation, only for around an hour or maybe a little more. The morn still hasn’t risen over the ocean’s horizon, the moonlight shimmering and shining over the waves. The candlelight that bathed the cabin with a sensual atmosphere had now burnt out. 

  Breaths of deepened sleep sound next to you, the chiselled sculpt of his chest you’d used as a pillow takes steady form, as he sleeps. It makes you wonder as to what he dreams about, sometimes a scowl is etched into his attractive visage and he becomes restless, leaving you to somehow comfort him. And other times, mostly after he’s spent drawing orgasm after orgasm from the two of you, he finds respite. 

  You take the time to thoroughly yet delicately rub your eyes, robbing the tiredness of its hold to take you once more. With a tilt of your head, hair coming over your shoulder to graze the top of your breasts, his other hand lay out over the bed, residing just over the edge. 

  The mysterious object that somehow you know is linked with you, but as to how or why, or its significance to you in any case, is still laced around his calloused palm. Despite its odd gleam of familiarity, you believe this is the first time you’ve seen it before, however, the tiny voice in the back of your mind says otherwise. Then you must have seen something like it before somewhere. 

  Something deep in the recess of your heart, you have to know. Is this somehow linked to the estranged longing to a home you can’t remember? Does this necklace bind you to the lost melody of times erased from your memory?

  You take caution in moving carefully, inching your way to lean over the sleeping form of your captain, skin brushing skin, you slowly rotate your hips and hoist a thigh over his waist. Heated crimson flushes into your cheeks as you analyse your newfound position, but also from the way his body stirs lightly, still enraptured by sleep yet his body adjusting to your core lining over his naval. 

  Thawed from your frozen idle of panic, you take a moment to calm the racing of your heart that hammers vigorously against your chest, your nimble fingers reach out towards his flesh hand that clings protectively to the mysterious necklace. 

  This almost feels… too easy. You swallow a silent gulp, fingers grazing against his palm when his body shifts, bumping up into yours, you pull your reach back so fast, your hand slaps against his ribs, doing your best to cover up your true intentions. His stills beneath you once more and your shoulders fall lax with a sigh of relief. 

  Again you dare another attempt to grab the necklace, this time you don’t risk breathing, holding it for what seems like forever until your lungs begin to swell with an ache that makes them feel like bubbles about to burst. 

  You work the chain until it's loosened and finally allow your held breath to escape you, the strain to remain silent proving far more difficult than you would have liked. The weight of your body shifts backwards, now sitting up, you allow your eyes to take in every detail of the object in your hands. The gold chain is light, ghostly as it graces your hands, your fingers lace and loop it around amidst the process of your conjuring thoughts. 

  Like a puppeteer pulling the strings you raise the necklace up by its precious thread. The pearl encaged by its makeshift net swings from side to side, as though even when you are completely still, it has a soul of its own accord. 

  Everything you knew about pearls is forfeit, the identity of this one brings the bevel between your brows to form in thoughtful wonder. Therein lies the piece of some puzzle, the missing notes to the melody to which you only recall the faint rhythm of the song. 

  It has to mean something of greater importance. But if it did, then why is your captain so adamant to dismiss your curious nature to find the answers?

  As if the pearl itself is the key, you hear within your heart and soul the song. Voices sing a tone that is calming to your senses, a sweet and endearing lullaby meant for you to hear whenever you find yourself in the loneliest of places, in the darkest reaches of the ocean, the connection will bring you somewhere you call home. 

  But your home is The Avenger. Aboard the ship with Captain Barnes. The man known as Bucky to his closest inner circle. So why do the voices mingling with the tide call you away from all that? With each passing second you become ensnared by the spell of the pearl, the voices of whom you somehow find solace in become louder, the softened chorus of their song echoes a hundred times over in your head. 

  Before you even give pause to reason, your own voice becomes paired with the orchestra of sirens. You have no words, and maybe you never did, all you did need is the pearl to help guide you in remembering the melody. The uncertainty of your humming eases, the unforeseen instructors aiding you, your voice is soft within its deep reverie when it all comes to an abrupt pause, a gasp severing the tune. 

  He has you by the wrist, fingers bruisingly tight and giving you no choice to pull away from him, as he often did whenever he saw you retreat from him without his say so. 

  Bucky’s eyes bear into yours, penetrating the barrier of the necklace, he stares you down the way a wolf does the lonely prey in its path. His eyes match the brooding darkness of a storm at sea, a breed of villainy that threatens those who dare to try him. 

  “Captain…” Your throat bobs with a nervous swallow.  “I– I wasn’t—” 

  Out of pure instinct to not tempt his fury, your hold on the necklace ceases and it gathers in the roughened pad of his palm, large thumb that has caressed your sensitive nub plenty of times now works against the spherical shape of the pearl, brows heavy in their judgement to assess your punishment. His movement is sudden upon the brink of your awareness, a sharp gasp that cuts into the tender muscle of your chest as he plants you flat on your back, hands both of flesh and metal pin your wrists on either side of you until the bruising ache becomes far too unbearable. But you do nothing to voice the level of your pain. He would not hear of it. His newly erected shaft ghosts over your entrance, the beginnings of your slick painting his already drooling tip.  “I’m beginning to think you like breaking my rules, Siren.”

[wyvernest]

cregan stark x f!targaryen!reader

first part - previous part - all chapters list

>>Queen Rhaenyra has sent you away from the brewing war to safety since your brother, Jacaerys, has secured the Pact of Ice and Fire. You have to honor it by marrying Lord Cregan Stark, Warden of the North.

chapter cw: smut, fluff, ANGST, explicit description of a wound

Wind's howling. The sea simmers with wrath and death.

The deck creaks and groans under you like an old beast waking from a decade-long sleep, bones cracking and jaws grinding with vengeance.

There is no crew, no captain. The ship is a wraith, and you, a speck of dust in the darkness.

You step towards the taffrail, looking down into the abyss. Terror washes over you, a raw instinct of deathly peril. Your heart thumps in your ears, and you feel the blood race through you.

Deep below, a wreckage drifts on the tides, carried by charred tongues of fallen beasts, licking its last life away. Atop, a small, frail creature, claws at the damp wood, drained and wounded.

Your throat tightens, a deeply rooted, dreamlike feeling of being bound to the creature rushes through you like wildfire. It tenses and crawls, its blood seeping into the black waters like a frozen breath leaving warm lungs for the last time.

The wind wails louder as you bend forward, seeking help, life, hope, with terror biting at your every sense. You slip over the ledge, and the void swallows you in your fall.

You awaken in your bed, the night barely pierced by the first lances of sunlight through the clouds. The fear slowly retreats, your breathing slowing down.

Cregan is still asleep next to you, lying on his stomach and facing away from you, his hair splayed messily over his shut eyes. You get up, quietly leaving his side to soothe yourself with cold water.

The castle is silent and imperturbable, a welcomed calmness following your nightly terrors. You walk like a ghost through the halls, lulled by the newfound safety, yet your mind is still imprisoned in thought.

Why would I even dream of such things? I cannot recall the last time I saw a ship, I cannot recall the last time I saw a storm at sea.

It is long past four moons since you first arrived in Winterfell, four moons since you last saw Dragonstone, your family, your brothers and sisters. The tenth day of the twelfth moon of 129 A.C. And for four moons, you haven't missed them nearly as much as now.

Perhaps it is the war, the news of Rhaenys, the murder, the unavoidable dread of death that knows no borders. Whatever it is, the dream shook you out of any serenity Cregan has struggled to settle in your heart.

“This is war. And the finality of death harrows even the toughest of men.”

But it was not the harrowing of your heart that woke you now. You would accept the night terrors every time you slept if it meant you could see your family alive and well again.

When you return to your chamber, Cregan shuffles to look at you, still lying down. He smiles, lazy and content, until he notices the strain between your brows, something you did not mean to bring back to him.

“My love?” He calles for you, but you push him back down before he could rise. You fall beside him, letting his warm hand cup your freshly washed cheek. “Did something happen?” His voice is still groggy with sleep, and the closure subdues your bleak worries.

“Just a dream.” You whisper, closing your eyes. His hand brushes over your hair lovingly.

“Tell me.” His hand moves to caress your back, pulling you closer to him.

“There is no need. All is good now.” But is it?

And yet you cast your worries aside when he drags you nearly under him, his free hand running over your waist and hip, dipping into the valley between your thighs. You cast your worries aside when you feel the coarse hair of his abdomen brush up against your belly.

Your mind goes numb when his massive body encompasses yours, as he breathes hotly into your neck, slipping himself inside you lazily; when he whispers to you of how he'll protect you, ah, love, you're mine own now, no harm will come to you.

But when his warmth leaves you, deep in the nights to come, the dreams find you again.

The second time they came with the same black waters, the drifting wreckage, but now shadows danced in the skies. Sinister serpents, prowling like enormous crows above a fresh cadaver. They pushed the clouds beneath them with behemothic wings, and you felt as though the whole night sky was coming down on you, in all its weight and darkness.

You dared look up once, up into the mirroring abyss. And then, you saw it. Through the gloom and mist, a ghost of a citadel atop a sunless hill. Perhaps there are many castles you may confound in such obscurity, but this was not one to be mistaken for something else.

Estrangement, guilt, it was, that claimed you in all these nights. A terrible shame, inexplicable for your position. You were sent North, you did not abandon your cause. But the creature in the sea bled every night, clung to the wreckage every night, and died every night.

It soon became an obsession. And weeks past, well near the end of the twelfth moon, your uneasiness bolts as Cregan receives another raven from Dragonstone.

The flying shadows. - is your first thought upon reading. The serpents swarming the skies. Though the letter should soothe you, with the notion of the Blacks’ forces finally recuperating, all you see is the black sky in a cobweb of smoke and thunderclouds. You see them much clearer; your family’s dragons stalking above the seas like starving vultures.

A broad hand on your lower back makes you turn back to Cregan.

“Word of this reached me shortly before the raven arrived.” He admitted, referring to new riders. “Your brother waited until the last dragon was mounted to write to us, but the people have been spreading the news like the plague ever since he first called for willing men.”

An overwhelming feeling of helplessness muffles out his voice. It's all amounting to the dream.

“They have fighting dragons.”

“You have fighting dragons, beloved. I dared not believe it without his testimony.”

You force yourself to smile at him, laying your head on his collarbone, the message still in hand.

“This is wonderful news.”

He kisses your forehead, taking the small scroll away. You briefly rub your fingers in its loss, as if the news had burnt your very skin.

“I am glad to know that I was able to please you, as well.” He remarks smugly, his tone laced with the honest surprise of seeing your brother quite literally tell on you.

Sudden nervousness momentarily rips you from the illusions of your distress. You scrunch up your face, as if you hadn’t already given him your maidenhead.

“Few brides have the comfort of wedding handsome men. Fewer, able men, and even fewer kind men. But …” You trail off, taunting his patience. He gazes at you, eyes squinted, the corners of his mouth ever so slightly raised. Even as a wolf, he often times held the cunning gaze of a fox, which amused you to no end, for you know it was only reserved for you. How he had the talent of drawing you out of dark thoughts with nothing but a jest or a tease.

“Well, don’t stop now.” His voice went down an octave, now sly and intimate.

“But to gain all three …” You kiss his cheek, dangerously close to his mouth.

His arms wrap around you in response. “To find yourself next to a man so strong-” another kiss, on his jaw. “- so resourceful -” another, on his lips, but so hasty that he doesn’t catch it.

“ - and yet so considerate and gentle. You hard warriors have no idea how important that is.” You stop, softly pushing him away to speak, your tone masquerading a scold. “You think it’s enough to butcher away any foes and any peril. But after that…” a kiss on the bridge of his nose. He looks at you like you’re preaching the word of gods. “ - to be able to lie in his arms, to know that these hands, that bathe in blood to protect her, will only ever touch her to caress, to fondle, to hold so dearly.” Your voice spills into seriousness, and he heeds your confession.

“That is when she truly feels safe.” You smile at him, accentuating your discourse by playfully shaking him twice by his shoulders. “And to have that, is more than any woman bargains with the gods for.”

He kisses your face, the slyness faded from his eyes.

“...And I can’t say you don’t look the part.”

He giggles, and your heart beats a little faster.

“I did not yet have the chance to truly protect you, love.” He corrects, and your heart sinks at his humble words, or more so at the recollection of your worries. “I haven’t yet spilt blood for you. Trust that I will , should the occasion arise.” That was no longer a jest, you realise. “And afterwards …” He leans into you, and seeing you do nothing to flee, he kisses your neck. “I’ll hold you, however you want, wife.”

Tonight you can barely shut your eyes without your heart thumping in your chest. After tossing and turning beside your husband, tiredness finally takes you and the visions creep over.

The nightsky rains with arrows. They snap and ring against the wooden shipwrecks like so many sharp teeth of jaws closing in on utter desolation.

Faceless, weightless, you step on the waters while the black wings dance and stalk restlessly, as the shafts hit the debris in a cacophony of wails, winds, tides crashing and roars of wrath.

And in this moment, it feels as though this cut is too deep even for time to mend. This place would never recover from such decay. Chaos has conquered the bay, irreversibly.

Death itself growls in the heavens above, blocking out the light of the moon. The sea heeds the call and drowns whatever escaped its claws, and the Red Keep stands still and cold and silent on the shores, an ill omen of rot and ruin.

The man on the rubble is dead. A snapped arrow coated in blood bore into his neck, the impact twisting his upper spine so unnaturally that he lies lifelessly atop the wreckage like a mayhem of boneless limbs discarded.

Only a hand quivers away in agony, the last semblance of a decapitated animal’s tremble.

You stomach turns.

Jacaerys!

You awaken in a sweat, with a shriek that rips Cregan from his slumber as well.

“ ‘S alright, come here, you're safe.” He cradles your still shivering hands to his chest, running a hand over your hair and back.

“ ‘m sorry.” You speak, muffled, remorseful and ashamed.

“It's no fault of yours.”

“...Cregan?”

You whisper, your limbs still tangled with each other. He hums, as attentive as he always is. The sun is just starting to show, and the dimness of the morning makes him look astonishingly beautiful.

“Would you do anything to shield me from pain?”

“ ‘course I would. What do you need of me?”

You hesitate. You know he would forbid you from fleeing, though you can not bring yourself to hide from your husband any longer. Whatever needs to be done, you ought to discuss it together.

“I need to fly South.”

There is a moment of complete silence. His face, for all you’ve grown to know, is now as impenetrable as The Wall. You cannot tell if you, indeed, sense anger or if it is only your expectations, for asking such a thing. You both get up as tension becomes unbearable.

“My men are already gathering at the White Harbour.” He speaks with patience and softness, understanding of your predicament, though stern and clearly unwavering. “In Barrowton.” He continues, “Roderick Dustin should be ready to march by week’s end. I-”

“ ‘Should’, and ‘by week’s end’…” You repeat to yourself in sorrow, too late releasing you quite rudely interrupted him. But the urgency of the issue can no longer afford gentleness nor much civility. “My family needs me, now. I dreamt of it, Cregan. You must believe me! And even if it’s wanton, even if the peril is still at bay, then I shall return safely. You mustn’t worry.”

“Wife.” His tone is demanding. It silences you, but deep in your heart you loathe him for it. You loathe him because of your dreams, because of the war, because greybeards can only ride so fast and so far, and will definitely not head for The Blackwater Bay.

“I have faith in your courage.” He begins, still holding you, yet the frost in his gaze is anew. “I do not doubt your loyalty. But as husband, I cannot allow you to risk such a thing. As warden, I cannot allow you to forsake the Queen’s command.”

“That’s your desire to protect me!” You speak hastily until your voice breaks, yet you go on. “What of me? How am I to live on knowing I could have saved someone so dear?! How am I to live with the remainder that I saw what would happen and did nothing?!”

“Dreams can be bad omens. But what if it was nothing more than a dream?” His voice escalates into the clear image of your demise in his mind. “What if you die for nothing? How would I live with that? Knowing I could have prevented it?”

“Cregan.” You brush an arm over his shoulder.

“I will say no more. You are not leaving Winterfell.” It is a command. And yet you hear him mumble, “I can’t lose you.”

Your heart sinks into your chest, and your throat tightens with unspoken pleas and cries.

Fortunately for you, Cregan is a heavy sleeper. He was still off soundly when you roused, during the hour of the wolf.

He was still undisturbed when you gently kissed his cheek, as an apology and farewell. He was unmoved when you slipped out of bed, changed into riding skirts and threw chainmail over your chemise and underneath the leather cloak.

“Lady Stark.” A reverential voice echoes in the halls when you depart from your shared bedchamber. For a heartbeat, your blood freezes at the thought that Cregan might, at last, awaken because of it.

“I have orders from Lord Stark to ensure your safety. Allow me to accompany you.”

“Oh, there's no need. I only mean to clear my mind on the battlements.”

Before he could reply, you turn your back to him and stroll off to the winding stairs. Your footsteps feel heavy, heavier than your masked armour, heavier than the dagger at your belt.

The cold, high winds hit your face as you reach the top of the castle. The merlons thin out the howling of winter gusts, but the cold dread is no less horrifying.

“Māzīs! Aderī!” (Come! Quick!)

The Godswood shivers with the call, but it does not matter. No one in the yard could be fast enough to catch you now.

Soon enough, a high pitched shriek answers as a slithering, white ghost of a cloud emerges from behind the high walls of Winterfell.

The silence of the night wails, broken, as Suvion brings his wings down, and with one, two swings, he's landing atop the tower, his hawk claws scraping the stone.

He brings his head to you, slightly frenzied by your tone and distress.

His icy scales shine with the dampness of the snow he had been dousing in, and his sheer beauty in the moonlight soothes you. He has grown. His wings are stronger. The cold had hardened him, as it did me.

“Sister!”

You halt, right before mounting.

“Sara.”

“Off on a nightly prowl?” she jests, but the moment she comes closer, eyeing your attire, her playful smile fades.

“Tell Cregan” you hesitate, pondering, “-to tell the lords he sent me on a secret scouting mission.”

She frowns, disheartened, lost, confused. After a few beats of unbearable ache, she speaks, as icy as Cregan had.

“Did you loathe it all from the beginning?”

“Sara, I cannot-”

“Is this what you'd always hoped to do?”

It's not an accusation. It's forlornness. Betrayal, and the grief of it.

“If I don't go, I will carry this burden with me for the rest of my life.”

She remains silent, but even Suvion twitches at the sound of her soft weep. You mount, shivering, with the cold, with regret, with doubt and fear, and guilt.

“If I do not return by the new moon's end, I loved him. Tell him I loved him. Tell him it's not his fault.”

With nothing but the sound of his wings, Suvion takes off from the tower.

a/n: that was quite the chapter

@ohsnapitzmarvelficrec @crypticlxrsh @louiselouve @karmaswitch @just-pure-trash @yujyujj @cost234 @dracaryxzs @cherrymallowtm @lady-targaryens-world @lightdragonrayne @krokietino @sukunassfinger @ithilwen-blackwood @rey26 @beebeechaos @melsunshine @aemondwhoresworld @romeavecryst @raynetargaryan2 @fireandblood-mharmie @mitski9328373 @drwho-ess @dorkysupernova @nitimurinvetitumsposts @ghitakhnifissa @darylspersonalwhore @helo1281917 @delaynew @poochies04 @accidentpronedork @fiction-fanfic-reader @rha3nyra @wallacewillow0773638 @star-serpent @potionsclub @moadvx @jellybeanstacey0519 @italianchameleon @ephemeralninon @sithapprentice @cloveradora @hawkins-2000 @thatspiderwebinthecorner @wolvestitches @idohknow @nyxbranwenn @asteria33 @nina6708 @r-3dlips

[uglypastels]

okok I've had this idea brewing in my filthy mind for a few days so imagine sanji discovering camgirl! Strawhat reader and becomes kinda obsessed?? Maybe one day she wears something of his(maybe a ring or his shirt) live and he goes absolutely feral and has his way with her??😵😵💫

I took out the camgirl aspect because I just wasn't sure how to incorporate it into the universe?? (I'm still new to it, so trying to figure out the dos and don'ts haha.) but I hope it's still good.

masterlist | inbox - requests open

reminder that reblogs and comments are the best way to support writers on Tumblr

warning: 18+ content. MDNI. simp sanji. masturbation. suggestive language and actions. light biting.

Laundry Day.

'Can someone remind me again whose brilliant idea it was to fight the giant squid?' You looked down at yourself, stiff as a board, as you felt every inch of your body to be sticky with black ink.

When you looked up again, the rest of the crew had all found a sudden interest in the most mundane parts of the ship, not daring to meet your deadly glare.

'Thought so,' you mumbled. 'I'm gonna go change.' Awkwardly, you made your way downstairs to the bathroom to try and wash off the black goo the sea monster had spewed onto you. You scrubbed for what felt like an hour, with the stains just never seeming to seize. The water poured down your body, slowly turning from a black abyss into a drabby grey until it finally recovered to its natural clear state, and the smell of fish was exchanged for your hair conditioner and body scrub.

stupid. fucking. squid. You kicked around your thoughts as you got out of the shower, nearly falling over in the process.

Too tired to cross the ship to your room, you instead walked to the small laundry cabin that was next to the bathroom and picked up the first pair of shorts you found and a button-up shirt to throw on.

You had thought it was one of yours, always being fond of having some larger piece of attire to throw over a short sleeve, but you soon realised your mistake when you entered the kitchen.

Sanji was in the middle of setting some water to boil, glancing up at you from his work with a soft smile. That smile then quickly froze in what you could only describe as a shock.

'I know I look like a mess,' you sighed, reaching over to the cupboard where the crew kept their hardest liquor. The day just called for a shot. Or three.

'Not the words I would use.' Sanji said, the clicking of the gas stove intercepting him, 'Is that- is that my shirt?'

You glanced down, noticing the blue striped pattern on the material and the actual tailoring of the shirt as opposed to the ones you were used to wearing.

You cursed under your breath. 'Sorry. I'll go change.' You began unrolling the sleeves, already seeing how they started to crease.

'No,' Sanji coughed out. 'It's fine. Honestly.'

'You sure?' You looked up at him apprehensively, but he just shrugged and continued on cooking.

You poured yourself a drink and made yourself comfortable opposite Sanji, enjoying the show that was his meal prep.

'Where's everyone else?' you asked as he began chopping up vegetables.

'Uhm, probably sleeping off the squid,' he chuckled, focused on the ingredients. As he kept going, you realised his answers kept getting shorter and shorter with each question. What usually would be full of quips and flirtatious remarks was cut down, blunt, like the edge of a dull knife.

And at first you had brushed it aside as him concentrating on his craft, but the longer he cooked, the more noticeable it was how he avoided your gaze. Even when talking, he didn't dare look up.

'Are you really ok with me wearing this?' You asked eventually when he was done and washing his hands in the sink.

'Of course, darlin',' he wiped his hands on a towel. He was about to turn around, but you saw the moment as your chance and swiftly slithered by his side. He stumbled back slightly in surprise.

'So why have you been ignoring me for the past hour?'

'I haven't,' he slipped by you elegantly and got to packing up the prepared food into storage boxes.

'But you have-- you didn't even look at me until now.'

'Sorry, sweetheart. I was working.' Usually, his saying something like that would make you think things were back to normal, but he seemed nervous, and before you could say anything else, he excused himself to his cabin.

Confused and a bit flustered at the sudden departure, you stood in the kitchen for a moment. You had planned on going upstairs, to get some fresh air, when Luffy stormed into the room.

'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'glad to see you're back to your ink-free self.'

'Yeah, thanks, Luf.' You took another shot quickly and watched as the captain raided all the cupboards. 'Watcha looking for there?'

'The tangerine cookies that Sanji made yesterday. There should still be some here.' He stretched his arm out to pat around the back of the highest drawer.

'You sure you didn't eat them yet?'

'Nooo,' Luffy looked at you sternly. 'Because I put them there specifically so I wouldn't eat them earlier.'

'Right,' you nodded. 'Well, Sanji had been busy around here, prepping lunch for tomorrow; maybe he moved some things around,' you suggested. 'You could go and ask him.'

'Aaah, I could,' Luffy wavered, 'but I was hoping to do this without Sanji's help.'

'Did he ban you from the kitchen again?' After the last incident of Lufft stuffing himself full of snacks right before dinner, the cook had given him strict orders not to eat an hour before meals. Looking at the clock, you could see it was closing in on dinner time.

Luffy scoffed, which only confirmed your assumptions. With a sigh, you got up. 'Fine, I'll ask him. But he might be asleep, you know.'

'Thanks. You're the best.' Luffy said, arm the length of the room as he opened cupboard after cupboard. You just rolled your eyes and made your way to Sanji's cabin.

'Hey, Sanji,' you knocked softly, unsure if he had maybe decided to take a nap. With no response from the other side of the door, you tried again. You thought to just let it go and leave him be, but then you heard the clashing of the pans in the kitchen, followed by a Luffy 'I'm ok!' and knew that you needed an answer for your captain. These were desperate times.

'Hey, Sanji,' you opened the door. The only thing you had really seen was the shape of his body splayed out on the bed, and it was more of an instinct or a gut reaction that told you that you should not look any further. So, quickly apologising, you shut the door again as Sanji cursed out in shock at the door opening.

'Sorry!' You shouted through the door, simultaneously trying to comprehend the blurs of your vision and trying to forget anything you might have seen. He wasn't... no, that wasn't... no.

There was some stumbling coming from his room, followed by a few more curse words. You didn't know why you were still standing beside his door, but he certainly didn't expect you to have stayed there, and so, when he entered the corridor, your bodies practically collided.

'I didn't see anything!' You blurted out before Sanji could say anything. Both your faces were wide in horror. 'I swear- I just,' you made the mistake of taking his appearance in. His shirt was untucked from his trousers, belt unbuckled and hanging at his sides. Oh god. 'I just... I was wondering where the tangerine cookies were. The ones you made yesterday.'

He was still hard. Most of it was hidden by the layers of clothing, but there was no denying it. You did your best to keep your eyes on his face as he listened to you blurt out words like a maniac, but it sure was difficult as all the puzzle pieces came together.

'They should be in the left cabinet, bottom shelf. Behind the baking ingredients. I hid them so Luffy wouldn't eat them before dinner.'

'Good thinking,' you laughed, probably a bit too loud for the situation, but the nerves were getting worse by the second. 'Well, bye then.' And with that, you ran off to the kitchen, leaving Sanji in all his unspeakable glory behind.

In the kitchen, you were met with Luffy picking up the pans he had dropped and Nami looking at him with what could only be described as disappointment. Without acknowledging them, you walked over to the left cabinet, opened the bottom half of it and searched the bottom shelf for the box of leftover cookies, slamming them onto the counter. Luffy immediately lunged forward to them, oblivious to your shocked state, but the navigator was a bit more perceptive.

'What happened to you?' she asked, declining the offer of a cookie from the captain, who already had two in his mouth.

'Nothing,' you shook your head.

'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

'I didn't! I didn't see anything!' Nope, nothing at all. You definitely did not see that. Or how big it was... or how his hand looked wrapped around it... or his face when he- NO.

'Hey, is that Sanji's shirt?' Now, Luffy decided to be observant. You looked down at your shirt as if you had only now noticed what you were wearing.

'Oh, I guess it is.'

'He must be having a field day with that,' Nami snickered, to which you looked at her confused. She, in turn, rolled her eyes 'Like you haven't seen the way he looks at you on a regular day.'

'I- no?' you blinked, trying to grapple with what she was talking about.

Nami just shrugged before grabbing the last cookie from Luffy's hand and walking out of the room. If you thought he would be aware of anything that you had just talked about, you would have asked the captain if he knew what Nami meant by her comments but instead just contemplated on it all by yourself.

Against all your survival instincts, you walked back in the direction of Sanji's door and knocked again. This time loud and clear. There was shuffling coming from the other side, and a second later, the door opened to reveal Sanji. His lips were pulled in a tight line of a smile as he looked down at you.

'Hey, can I come in?' you asked softly.

'What?' Sanji asked before the initial question properly connected in his mind. 'Uhh, I don't think that's a great idea.'

'Sanj, we should talk about what happened earlier.'

'Do we, though?' His voice raised in pitch nervously, but you just glared up at him, unimpressed.

'Sanji, please just let me come inisde.' You pushed out any thought that just burst through your mind that did not have to do with the current situation, but it was hard to see the images of what you saw in his room before were still very much playing over and over in your head.

In the end, Sanji gave in and opened the door for you. As you walked in, he stayed behind you, hand running nervously through his hair, as he spoke: 'Listen, I'm really sorry about... everything that happened today, really.'

'You have nothing to be sorry for.' You turned to face him. 'I'm the one that stole your shirt and stormed into your room unannounced.' It was his room. He had the right to do whatever he pleased in it.

Sanji laughed awkwardly, looking away to the far side of the room, but even then, you caught how his eyes glanced and slightly lingered over your body. The blue-striped shirt still hanging over it.

You, in the meantime, fought the urge to look at his body, combined with the memory of what you had caught him doing.

Maybe it was the few shots you had taken earlier to forget about the giant squid attack that instead did nothing you had hoped for but only made you bolder as you asked: 'were you thinking about me?'

'What?'

'You know, earlier. When I walked in. Were you... thinking of me?'

'Shit, don't make me say it.' He combed his fingers through his hair. You walked over to him, closing the gap between you lightly.

'Why not?'

'Because I don't want to make things weird between us.' His jaw clenched as you came towards him, and you couldn't help but laugh at what he had to say.

'Oh, it's definitely too late for that now. Things are already weird.'

'Super weird, aren't they?' he asked softly, strangely intensely.

And so, when you responded, your agreeing words were only as hushed as he had been, too focused on each other's proximity. The two of you stood there, frozen between actions, taking each other's bodies in at the new lack of distance until Sanji took the final step over the edge, kissing you with his hands on cupping your cheeks.

You stumbled back at the force, steadying yourself when you caught onto the shirt he was wearing. One of his hands moved down to your waist, guiding you to his bed until the back of your knees hit the wood, and you lightly fell back.

Sanji placed himself over you, and as his weight pressed over you, you could feel his hard-on through his trousers. A curse fell from his lips when you reached for it and your fingertips moved over the material.

'You've been drivin' me insane the whole day, walkin' around in that shirt.' He said as he began leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

'Figured,' you couldn't but be a bit smug about it, which he did not seem to appreciate given the pinch of his teeth you felt on your sensitive skin.

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him even closer to you, trying to get some, friction out of the movement as he pressed himself against you.

'Cocky are we?' He smiled into his kisses, and at this point, all you could do was nod in agreement.

Sanji kept himself up over you with one hand as he used the other to unzip your shorts. One-handed and without a clear view, taking them off turned out to be a bit more of a challenge, far more awkward than expected when you tried to shuffle out of them, but his touch on your skin made up for it by tenfold.

You were about to make a start on unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing when Sanji stopped you. 'No, keep it on.' and kissed you before you could make any other snarky remark on his behalf. But when he pulled away again, though slightly dazed by the passion, you still managed to comment.

'If this is the treatment I receive for stealing your clothes, I might just do it more often.'

To this, Sanji groaned through his teeth. 'You're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart, I swear.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy July 11th Update, Wolfmania, Our Biggest Update Yet!

This update was delayed by about one week, but I think everyone will find that this was well worth it, as this has been our most significant update ever to the rulebook and general content of Eureka. Where do I even begin?

Maybe I’ll start with the best part. For a limited time, this update is FREE! You can grab a PDF from the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club Discord server from now (July 11th 2024) until the next book club round starts! (Which will probably be about a month.)

Here’s just a few of the highlights for this update, you’ll find the full changelog below.

Major cleanup and copy-editing is underway again finally, and we managed to eliminate 42 pages of unnecessary blank space and extraneous text, as well as rewording and reorganizing many rules sections to make them clearer and easier to read. You now only have to read 20 pages before the first mention of how to roll dice, rather than 70.

Ten new character traits.

A PC’s Wealth stat now has a much greater effect on them in more areas of gameplay.

A ton of new art assets.

A bunch of massive improvements to combat that make it flow smoother with fewer interruptions, some of these improvements will be discussed in detail in their own post.

Repurposed Chapter 7 into being a chapter dedicated to GMing and homebrew.

Huge cleanups to the supernatural chapter.

Some changes to monsters overall to make them more modular and less restrictive in character creation.

Two new playable “supernatural” “creatures.”

Two new mage traits as well. (Which also double as two new spells for the witch)

The weaknesses of a vampire are now a bit more subjective and modular. For instance, in character creation you can trade off a greater sensitivity to garlic for a more potent sense of smell, or a lesser sensitivity to garlic for a weaker sense of smell. Vampires are now also explicitly thematically tied to religion, religious trauma, and religious horror.

Wolfmania! The wolfman monster now has different transformation options during character creation. You now choose your wolfman PC’s partial wolf transformation and full wolf transformation, with four options for each. There are some major narrative trade-offs for different combinations but I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.

Then, there is "The Eye of Neptune." "The Eye of Neptune" is a Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy adventure module that has languished in an unfinished state for like six months, but we finally got it like 99% complete. The only thing missing are the maps and the artwork, which it is fully playable without.

Man has built a city of steel and black blood atop the endless abyss. It is a beating heart bound together with labyrinthian pipe veins. Hundreds of miles away from civilization, it stands in the midst of the Gulf of Mexico with naught but empty horizons around it. Within is a vast structure of winding halls, grinding machinery, and thousands upon thousands of small parts working to achieve a grand design. It is the Offshore Oil Rig Neptune, and it was once run by 200 workers. Now, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, it has fallen to more or less a dozen. These last vestiges of life in the rig spread themselves thin and work their hands to the bone to keep the massive beast running. In the midst of this overwhelming isolation, two members of the already shorthanded crew are unaccounted for, Seth Barlowe and Lukas Ward. The installation manager, Noah, has convened a meeting to try to find out what happened to him. With the crew already severely shorthanded and tensions running high, a mysterious disappearance is the last thing anyone needs. 

You can get a copy of The Eye of Neptune, as well as another adventure module, several stories, and continuous monthly rulebook updates from our Patreon for only $5/month!

Now here's the full changelog! I'm mercifully putting it under a Read More because it's our longest one yet!

CHANGE LOG 

Copy-editing Progress: Thoroughly copy-edited up to p. 47.

CHAPTER 1

Better clarified how Heat increases.

Minor edit to Role of the Narrator.

Changed the name of Chapter 1 to “Core Gameplay Rules”

Minor tweak/clarification to what happens with a 7-9 on a Heat roll.

Instead of +1 Heat when the villain is in league with the police, Heat now simply does not decrease for the duration of the adventure. 

Heat rolls are now made whenever an investigator’s Heat increases by 3 or more within a single scene, rather than being made on multiples of 3 Heat.

Added another entry to the list of how Heat can increase

How much Heat an investigator starts the adventure with is now based on their Wealth stat.

Minor sentence reworks

Added a more detailed story of A.N.I.M. and Eureka’s history to the foreword

Moved Verisimilitude section out of Foreword down below Inspirations 

Moved “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” to Chapter 3 above Grievous Wounds

Moved the “Monsters” section of the foreword to Chapter 8

Better clarified starting Heat

Lots of copy-editing and minor twinning, additions, and tweaks

Fixed the Quick Term definition for Truth being inaccurate.

Moved a bunch of sections from Chapter 1 to Chapter 7, including Heat

CHAPTER 2

Fixed the Believer Snoop accidentally being put with the Woo-Woo trait

Tweaked the None of My Business Trait

Changed Traits section to “Mundane Trait List”

Changed the amount of Penetrative HP for Not Finished Yet trait to 13 instead of 10

Added holster to item list.

Found out bump stocks are no-longer illegal 

Added “It’s for a Book” trait 

Added “Moneybags” trait

Added “The Ascot” trait 

Added “Gang Way!” trait 

Added “Dangerprone Damsel” trait

Added “Master of Disguise” Trait.

Added “Ninja” Trait

Added “Quick Draw” trait

Edited the Food Budget item to be more clear

Changed it so that guns no-longer come with bullets, these must be bought separately

Changed having +2 Wealth to “middle class” and +3 Wealth to “upper middle class,” to better describe how the Wealth skill actually influences the game

The formula for calculating WP is now 3D6+6+[Wealthx2]

Increased the WP price for certain items to reflect the above change

Added “Frugal” trait 

Added “Kleptomaniac” trait

Added art of example investigator Nick Morgan

Moved a bunch of sections from Chapter 2 to Chapter 7

Moved some stuff about investigators losing items to Chapter 7

Moved some stuff about homebrewing traits into Chapter 7

Changed the name of Chapter 2 to “How to Make an Investigator” because now all the NPC stuff is moved to Chapter 7

Better clarified skills

Changed the heading “Additional Traits” to “Choosing More Than Three Traits”

CHAPTER 3

Added clarification that sometimes it does matter whether a weapon is a blunt weapon, a piercing weapon, or a cutting weapon, and we trust players to be able to intuit what types of weapons are what.

Made animal teeth and animal claws separate entries on the weapon list

Better clarified when Speed needs to be calculated and when it doesn't

Explained what a node map is

Removed the rules for doing turn order based on Reflexes rolls, and finally made it so that Epicenter Initiative works with firearms combat.

Added rules for equipping weapons during combat

You now add Acceleration bonus to Athletics rolls for characters moving long distances in theater of the mind combat. Need to go around and remove the special speeds for various supernatural characters. 

Added a section that explains why so many pages is dedicated to combat despite this game being an investigation game primarily

Added art of some small knives

Put “Deadly Combat, Permanent Consequences” to this chapter instead of the Foreword

CHAPTER 4

Added some art to the gun information list 

Made Fully Automatic Fire have a hard limit of 12 bullets per attack. 

Added Quick Cycling rule, allowing characters with a +2 or more in Firearms to fire Two-round Bursts with Single-Action and Repeating firearms.

CHAPTER 5

Added rule for ride-by attacks to basic melee attack

Better clarified Escape

Attempts to disarm a character now have bonuses or penalties based on the difference between the Athletics skill of the two characters involved, similar to how Escape attempts work. 

CHAPTER 6

Clarified that Acceleration is not affected by Composure

Tiny tweak to how chases are described

Better clarified when Speed needs to be calculated and when it doesn't

CHAPTER 7

Added “How We Play Eureka” section explaining which optional rules we personally do and don't prefer

Changed the name of Chapter 7 to “Advanced Narration and Homebrewing”

Added a ton of stuff from other chapters to Chapter 7 to make it a general chapter for Narrators as well as help with game/module design and homebrewing. It is currently a little bit of a mess but is at least serviceable until we get to the point where we can fully copy-edit it.

CHAPTER 8

Minor vampire tweaks

Made it so that that the vampire sensitivity to certain scents is more codified and now causes composure rolls, and now works more like their compulsion to count things in that the placement of the weakness on their tiers of fear determines how much of a bonus they have to Senses checks involving smell and taste. 

Adjusted Even Monsters are Afraid of Something section to reflect the above changes 

Added more mechanics for how NPC vampires interact mechanically with weaknesses. 

Better clarified the full moon roll for wolfmen. It is now just 1D12+1. 

Better codified superhuman strength as a rule.

Gave the math for handling consistent HP across alternate supernatural forms its own section.

Completely redid the wolfman wolf forms. Now during character creation players can choose one of four options for each of the wolfman’s wolf forms, each with their own advantages and disadvantages. Up to 16 possible combinations! Wolfmania!

Improved the werewolf trait to fit with the updates to wolfman

Adjusted wolf manifestation of vampire to fit with new wolfman rules. 

Better clarified vampire claws

Added Supernatural Bonuses and Investigation Rolls section

Tweaked wolfman involuntary transformation so that the form they rampage in is still random even if they are already in a wolf form when the rampage starts

Changed stats of vampire’s bat manifestation

Better clarified vampire sunlight and silver weakness mechanics

Totally revamped vampire’s monstrous beast manifestation 

Redid the Superhuman Speed mage trait, made it a lot better 

Improved the Stealth bonus of the Invisibility mage trait

Improved Stealth bonuses of thing from beyond.

Added a “Purpose” mechanic to living dolls, which is what the doll in question was built to do. When they act towards this purpose, they get +1 to rolls, and when they fail or otherwise ignore their purpose, they may lose Composure. 

Updated Even Monsters are Afraid of Something section to reflect the above

Made it so wolfmen lose 2 Composure from skipping a meal instead of 1.

Clarified that the thing from beyond does not need to stay in human shape the entire time they are digesting a human victim. 

Clarified the possibility of escaping from a monstrous supernatural beast’s stomach for both the giant wolfman forms and the monstrous vampire manifestation. 

Clarified Telekinesis trait

Added “Manifest Weaponry” Mage Trait

Added “Incredible Strength” Mage Trait

Added ability for an investigator to be a talking dog.

Changed “wannabe monster hunter” to just “monster hunter” and added a new sidebar

Rewriting large chunks of the first half of chapter 8, redefining each type of supernatural investigator, and adding a fourth category of investigator. Work in progress

Monster investigators now only require 18 investigation points instead of 21. 

Removed “Is this a monster or a mage” section. This is no-longer needed now that these categories are more clearly defined. 

Removed blood sacrifice from the witch’s true nature and just committed to making it be about cannibalism and about using magic–any of their magic–for petty and/or entirely selfish reasons. 

Gave witches a proper weakness

Changed the name of the witch to Fairytale Witch

Moved Alternative Witch into the misc. category

Removed large chunks of chapter 8 that were either no-longer needed or had become so outdated as to be contradictory to other rules

Vampires now gain 1 additional point of Composure for every 5 Morale or Composure damage they do to their victim during an attack, to better codify how they feed on human suffering as much as the literal blood they drink.

Added the “Monsters” section of the Foreword to this chapter instead

Changed the name of the Thing From Beyond’s “Shapeshifter” trait to “Imposter Syndrome”

Moved some stuff about homebrewing traits into Chapter 7

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but our Kickstarter page is still the best place to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, and where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more than just status updates, going forward you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy and it’s adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[justmediocrewriting]

“BEACH DAZE,” {v.s}

A/n: I owe so many thanks to @heartfully10 for this beautiful idea. Madam, please, feed me moar!! I read your idea and my brain fucking zoomed I tell you, it zoomed!!! I need more inspos like that <3

Summary: you were a fool to think the day couldn’t get any more perfect, because of course your handsome chef would make sure it did

Genre: fluff with spice

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Requested: ❌ (suggested, requests are open!)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/tags: some spicy themes, massages, established relationship, mixer!sanji, the man’s a chef of course the dude can mix drinks too, flirting, just two people being madly in love on the beach, crew bonding, whipped!sanji, whipped!reader, sensual application of sunscreen, teasing, fluff, it’s just really lovey y’all (and a bit more spicy than I originally intended)

{{:================================:}}

The sun’s harsh glare was tapered by the shadow casted by the umbrella above you, its warm rays only able to caress the skin of your ankles to your toes. Pounding feet over shifting sand, lapping waves, loud splashes, the squeals and laughter of children and adults alike, and the cries of gulls harmonized together to create a symphony that bled nostalgia from your heart — you missed this.

Your eyes had slipped closed some time ago, the warm, lively atmosphere of the beach settling deep into your bones and relaxing you from within, so the arrival of another person in front of you was only detectable by the sudden coolness their shadow offered your toes.

“You seem pretty comfortable there, sweetheart.”

A smile found its way to your face immediately, the smooth timbre of that voice slithering into your ears pleasantly and melting your already sun-baked brain. With a simple flutter of your eyes you were greeted with one of the best sights of your life; clad in only patterned swim shorts and skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration, one hand casting a shadow over his blue eyes and the other holding a sweating glass of something, stood Sanji. Your skin heated ever so slightly and your gut stirred, but you pushed away the sensations and merely patted the space beside you.

“Towel is big enough for two, if you're curious to see how comfortable it is.” You teased silkily, and Sanji’s lips immediately pulled into a smirk. Further prompting was unnecessary, the blond man sinking down almost immediately beside you without a word. You eyed the glass in his hand, curiosity brimming at the oddly brightly colored liquid within.

“What’s that?” You asked, propping yourself up to rest your weight on your elbows and procure a better look at the drink. Sanji glanced down at the drink before shooting you a dazzling smile.

“It’s a drink I made. I call it ‘Little South Blue’.”

“The name fits.” You murmured, eyes taking in the ombré blue of the liquid, neon bright at the top and abyssal black towards the bottom. Flicking your eyes back up to meet Sanji’s, you asked, “what was your inspiration?”

“Have a taste first, love, and see if you can guess.” Sanji tutted, bringing the rim of the glass to your lips. You opened willingly, maintaining eye contact with him as the liquid slowly coated your tongue. Despite its blue color, it carried a heady citrus taste, not tangy enough to be off-putting but just enough to leave a bit of an aftertaste. There were sweet undertones in the current, too, something reminiscent of vanilla buttercream. All in all, it was a perfect blend of flavors, with none overshadowing the next, or standing out blatantly in a way that made the drink hard to swallow.

Once you swallowed down the generous amount Sanji had given you he pulled the rim from your mouth, eyebrows raised and lips quirked in a challenge. You licked the remainder of liquid from your lips, the action of which Sanji immediately zeroed in on, the look in his eyes fanning the ever-glowing embers of desire in your gut, and you pretended to consider.

“It’s sweet, with a citrus aftertaste… rather fruity, if you ask me. Which leads me to believe your inspiration was…” you trailed off, furrowing your delicate brows and jutting your lower lip out ever so slightly in that pout you knew drove Sanji crazy and got you anything you wanted out of the chef, and then sighed deeply.

“Nami.” You deadpanned, amusement zipping through your chest at the look of pure disbelief that overcame Sanji’s features — it was like watching sunlight glisten off of a rainbow trout’s scales, the colors shifting with such speed that the human eye couldn’t dare to identify where or when the shift started or ended.

“I’m speechless, love,” Sanji jested, scooting his body closer to yours and placing a large hand atop your plush thigh. “That you would assume I could even think of another woman when I have all of this right in front of me, any time I want it.” Sanji ended this statement with a firm, yet gentle squeeze of your thigh, sending various feelings and thoughts rushing to the forefront of your mind — memories of similar touches in the dark, picking you apart molecule by molecule and then gluing you back together again, simultaneously.

You sucked in a sharp breath and pushed your thighs together, the habitual movement not escaping Sanji’s watchful eye, and he smirked, skimming his fingers along your flesh. Your skin pimpled despite the heat of the day, and those embers once more flared hotter — gods, how you wanted him right now.

It was dizzying how quickly Sanji was able to alter your moods — with one well placed sentence or touch, Sanji could turn you into a dripping puddle of want, no matter what emotion you could have been feeling at the time, nor the strength of it. It was the same story for every emotion, the man able to influence them so easily, as if they were attached to strings and he were the puppet master pulling them.

And, to be frank, you loved it.

You looked down to Sanji’s hand on your thigh, bringing your own hand up to run your fingers over the bumps of his knuckles. Glancing up at him through your eyelashes, you dropped your voice to a low murmur, the volume prompting Sanji to lean in towards you to hear your words.

“You shouldn’t tease me unless you plan on seeing it through.”

Sanji’s eyes widened fractionally before they clouded with barely-contained interest, orbs darting down to trace the shape of your lips. You mirrored his actions, eyes falling to his lips, electricity skirting along the flesh of your own as you imagined pressing them to Sanji’s. Their dance would be fluid and familiar, as always, consumed by the ever-present hunger you held for one another.

“This is a public beach. Get a room.”

The sudden onslaught of words sliced through the tension swirling around you, and you whipped your body around to face the source; you inadvertently knocked your elbow into Sanji’s arm, dislodging his hand from your thigh and upsetting his balance slightly. You snapped your eyes up to meet the face of Zoro, who wore an expression of mixed discomfort and amusement.

You couldn’t help but flush slightly. You’d been so wrapped up in Sanji that you’d completely lost awareness to your surroundings. That wasn’t much of a surprise, if you were being honest. It had happened many a time on the Going Merry, and you just knew it would continue to happen going forward. That was the effect Sanji had on you. You glanced around to see if your little personal moment with Sanji had drawn the attention of anyone else, but thankfully, everyone on the beach were too busy in their own worlds to really pay you any mind.

“Go mind your own business, mosshead. Take a swim, or something. You need a bath anyway.” Sanji retorted back, but the relaxation of the day must have affected Sanji in some way too, for his words lacked their usual heat. Zoro rolled his eyes but stalked away regardless; Sanji focused his attention on you once more, but Zoro’s appearance had bursted that bubble of intimacy around the two of you, and you couldn’t find a way to work up the same level of desire you had felt just seconds prior. You gave Sanji a morose smile, and the message was conveyed clearly to the man, who simply shook his head with a smile on his face.

No worries.

Despite no longer feeling the urge to clamber into Sanji’s lap and ride him til the sun set, you still felt the need to be physically close to him, so you once again closed the distance between the two of you. Your thighs and sides were bow flush against one another, and you looked out across the span of the beach and rested your head on his shoulder. Sanji responded by wrapping an arm around your waist and placing his chin atop your head. A perfect embrace, one that had your chest feeling light and fluttery.

“This reminds me of home, you know.” You said suddenly, blurting out the same thought you’d had since the Going Merry had docked on the island. Sanji hummed and fiddled with the knot on the side of your swimsuit bottoms.

“You mean back in the South Blue?”

You nodded mutely, lips pulling into a smile as waves of nostalgia crashed over you. “Mhmm. Many islands in the South Blue are a lot like this one; hot, sunny and sandy. Coconut trees as far as the eye can see and enough tiki bars that even Zoro couldn’t drink an island dry.”

Sanji chuckled at your analogy and released his hold on the knot, now tracing shapes into the skin of your hip with his fingertips. Pleasant pimples dotted across your skin from the sensation.

“Was your island like this one?” Sanji asked, using his free hand to bring his drink, Little South Blue, to his lips. You could feel the undulation of his jawline and throat as he swallowed.

You shifted your body closer to his, crossing your right ankle over his left and digging your foot between his. The heat was near scorching, and the proximity of your bodies wasn’t helping, but it felt too nice to not link your skin in some way.

“Somewhat. There’s a lot of activities that I’ve noticed are exclusive to the South Blue — surfing, beach volleyball, free diving. But there’s a couple here that I recognize from my island. The tiki bars, for example, and the sunbathing.”

You pointed to a group of women to the left, splayed out on large beach towels and soaking up the sun’s rays like hungry plants. Sanji made a strange sound, a mixture between a grunt and a chuckle, and before you could question its origins he said,

“Won’t they just burn? It doesn’t even look like they’re wearing sun screen.”

You narrowed your eyes and looked closer at the women; it was hard to discern from the distance, but you could just barely notice the lack of the tell-tale shine of sunscreen. You hummed deep in your throat.

“They probably forgot to reapply it. It does dry up, eventually.”

“Did you put some on?” Sanji asked, palm flattening around your hip and rubbing, as if he were trying to feel the slick oil on your skin. You burrowed your side deeper into his and reached across his lap to pluck the drink from his hand. Sanji unhooked his chin from your head so that you could pull a drink from the rim. That sweet vanilla-citrus bloomed over your tongue again, and you found yourself quite liking the taste.

“I rubbed some in earlier. It’s not too big of a deal for me, since I’m in the shade. This is actually pretty good, by the way.” You took another slow, purposeful drink, letting the liquid linger in your tongue for a few moments before swallowing.

Sanji clicked his tongue, and his other hand, now freed of its previous burden, slid over to connect to your thigh once more. He stroked the plush flesh with his thumb as he rumbled, “of course it’s good. Its creation was inspired by the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

You looked up at Sanji with wide, doe-y eyes, voice sickly sweet as you teased, “awww, that’s going to flatter Nami to the moon!”

Sanji rolled his eyes and pursed his lips, though you could see no real agitation in his expression when he reached forward and slipped the drink from your hand. With a light smack to your thigh Sanji ordered, “alright, that’s enough. Lay on your stomach.”

“What?” You said smartly, amusement flattening quickly to confusion.

“On your stomach. You said it’s been a while since you’ve put on any sunscreen, and there is no way I’m going to let the sun do any damage to your beautiful skin.”

You raised a brow and pointed up at the umbrella. “I’m under the shade.”

“I’m not taking any chances. Now lay down and tell me where the sunscreen is.” Sanji huffed, and you rolled your eyes but complied, rearranging yourself to spread out on your stomach. Sanji’s skilled hands rubbing sunscreen into your skin actually didn’t sound half bad.

“It’s in my bag.” You said softly, crossing your arms in front of you and resting your chin atop them.

Sanji shuffled through your bag for a few seconds before grasping and pulling out the circular container of your sunscreen. Sanji unscrewed the lid and placed the container gently near the side of your head, its strong vanilla fragrance quickly rushing into your nostrils.

Vanilla…

Sanji shuffled beside you then stood, placing either foot on each side of your legs before squatting down to cage your calves beneath his thighs; Sanji made sure to put most of the pressure and body weight onto the backs of his own feet so that he didn’t squash your legs, a rather gentle and endearing consideration of his. Silver glinted in your periphery as Sanji dipped his fingers into the container and scooped out a generous amount — a lot more than you’d personally use, but you didn’t utter an objection to it — and anticipation spiked in your gut when you heard the unmistakable sound of Sanji slathering his hands in the substance.

The first stroke across your shoulder blades had you sighing into the warm air, but when Sanji used his palms to smear in the sunscreen you were helpless to the sounds your lips released. Sanji put a gentle pressure into his hands, sliding his palms up and down your back — all the way from the tips of your shoulder blades to the dip of your lower back and back again — repetitive and slow, and your muscles were quickly turning to putty beneath his attention.

Sanji took immediate notice of this, and his intentions of applying sunscreen morphed into a delicate massage, splaying his thumbs so that they gently dug into the muscles close to your spine with every drag along the length of your back.

“You’re tense, love. How long has that been going on?” Sanji asked in a murmur, leaning his body over yours so that he could speak inches from your ear. The combination of sensations had your gut stirring, his deft hands turning your body to putty and his rumbling timbre doing the same to your brain.

“A little bit.” You answered breathily, eyes slipping closed as you allowed yourself to feel — to feel Sanji’s subtle weight against your legs, his hands on your skin, the breeze in the air, and the soft sand beneath the towel — it was a combination that made your chest feel floaty and full, the beach drawing out homesick nostalgia and Sanji’s presence supplying a different sense of home. A sense of home that you only felt with Sanji.

“You should have told me sooner, darling. I’d have been more than happy to massage you.” Sanji gently chastised, and in your dopey state, all you could do was hum in response. Sanji’s hands slipped up to your shoulder blades, his thumbs digging into the meatier sections with a gently firmness, and electricity exploded within your body — you could feel the tension melting out of your muscles, and it felt so good. Sanji repeated this action along the entirety of your back, rubbing and soothing out every kink in the muscles with hands that bordered on sinful.

“I’m sure you probably knew from the start, but Little South Blue’s creation was inspired by you.” Sanji wisped, hands never slowing or stopping their movements. “I’d read in a book long ago that citrus fruits were very common in the South Blue, and that they were the staple ingredient of all kinds of foods and drinks.”

You peeked open an eye just in time to see Sanji dipping his fingers back into the container of sunscreen before returning to your back — now his hands moved up further, grinding pleasantly into the muscle of your nape.

“Vanilla is your favorite scent, and you especially like the taste when it’s used in buttercream.”

Your heart constricted in your chest, adoration flaring strong and consuming. You remembered the vanilla-y undercurrent in the mouthfuls you’d swallowed previously, along with the tangy citrus.

“I decided to combine them in a base of your favorite alcohol; sweet rum. Then I named it after your home sea, so that you could have a little piece of it when we leave here.”

Your heart felt as if it would implode out of your chest; time and time again, Sanji was able to exceed any and all expectations with his generosity and romantic soul, but this felt like it was on another level — one that you were finding difficult to process at the moment. Sanji’s hands felt heavenly on your body, but if you didn’t get your lips on his this instant you were going to combust.

With Sanji essentially weightless on top of you, it was easy to roll onto your back quickly. The movement startled Sanji and he retracted his hands, still lathered in the sun screen, and you slipped your legs from underneath him and sat up on your knees. Grasping both sides of his handsome face you leaned in quickly, connecting your lips to his. As always, the contact sent ripples of electricity through your entire body, and when Sanji’s lips quickly responded by initiating a dance with yours, the chilled embers in your gut roared into an inferno.

You slid your tongue along his bottom lip, phantom traces of vanilla-citrus rewarding your movement, and you groaned against Sanji’s lips, which parted for you quickly. The beach and everything else faded into the background as you slipped your tongue against his, coaxing it into the same familiar dance you’d rehearsed time and time again. The flavor was even heavier on his tongue, and when understanding the very reason behind every ingredient, it tasted like pure heaven, enhancing the natural taste of Sanji that you’d come to love and crave.

You only pulled away when you found yourself getting a bit dizzy from lack of proper oxygen, and by that time you had subconsciously scrambled into Sanji’s lap and had your hands wrapped around the nape of his neck, fingers tangled in the blond strands at the base of his skull. Sanji’s pupils were blown and his eyes were hazy, a subtle hardness pushing into the flesh of your thigh, and you licked your lips.

“You taste a lot more like home than some drink, Sanji.”

Sanji smiled at you in a breathless daze, but the perfect, sensual moment was ruined by one phrase uttered with distaste from behind you,

“Seriously, get a room.”

{{:================================:}}

2 posts in under 24 hours??? I’m on a roll lmao. I just wanted to send a quick thank you to everyone who has sent in requests/suggestions. You guys really helped bring me inspiration and I appreciate it so much!! If you guys enjoyed this please consider liking/reblogging/commenting. Love you all and thanks for reading!

[ohwaitimthewriter]

The Memory Keeper

Chapter 6: Cruise

Pairing: Noa x human!reader

Warnings: None!

Summarize: 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: 3k+

A/N: Hi there! After all this time, I've decided to post the first part of this chapter. So it's not complete in what I wanted to tell entirely about this chapter. However, I find myself with a rather significant lack of inspiration and motivation, which has been going on for over a month now. I hope that working in this way will enable me to start the rest of this chapter under better conditions.

In the meantime, I hope you'll like this first part!

Enjoy your reading 😊

The Memory Keeper Masterlist / Planet of the apes Masterlist

Gifs credit (1) & (2)

Your brain was about to collapse. Its cogs were running at full speed in an engine flooded by years of letting yourself sink. Reaching the bottom of the ocean and letting yourself be carried along by the sea currents, getting used to seeing nothing but the crushing blackness of the abyss. Getting the engine running again made the rusty nuts creak, and no matter how many times you jabbed the storm-shaken screws with a screwdriver, it felt as if every turn sheared through your temples.

And everything was suddenly too heavy. The weight of your head ended up in the palm of your hands as your fingers desperately tried to cling to the hairline that defined your forehead.

Your cogs floundered in the muddy sand of the seabed that had become your brain. A flooded, clogged and slimy wading pool that struggled to rid itself of the stagnant seaweed that had accumulated until it filtered out the slightest particle of emotion that dared to try and find its way back to the surface. Drowning in your own wading pool. In your own brain, so as not to see the immeasurable extent of the damage inflicted by the tidal wave that had left you shipwrecked.

Shipwrecked. Today, it was difficult to remember when the boat had capsized. Had it happened gradually? As each crew member fell overboard? One after the other. And despite the lifebuoys, despite the rafts, all you could do was watch them sink, helpless as the ocean slowly took what had always belonged to it.

Shipwrecked on a wandering ship, meant to stay afloat despite the shattered hull and torn sails. Sometimes you still wondered why the ocean had chosen never to come and get you. The one that decided to toss you around like a lost buoy in the middle of the blue vastness, the one that made you swallow water at will, knowing full well that salt water couldn't carry you off. The one that dragged you to the open sea with no promise of ever seeing the end of it. Now the ocean was offering you the chance to wash ashore on a white sandbank.

But how do you dock without a captain at the helm?

A broad hand came to rest on your shoulder, engulfing half your shoulder blade, and a few comforting taps pressed against your shoulder.

“How do you know his words?”

Raka. He seemed to have a better grasp of the concept of empathy than did his friend. But you couldn't blame Noa. Even you didn't know how to steer your boat. So to ask a near-stranger to trust you to navigate between waves and sea rocks and reach that sandbank…

And how could you dock without a captain at the helm?

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

The world was changing.

And the more you watched it burn away, the more you realized there was no one left. There was no one to tell the story. Radio, TV news, newspapers, books… no one would run them or write them. The human ability to convey an event around the world as we would slip a letter into a mailbox had gone to ashes when the virus had set humanity ablaze.

You no longer knew what the world was becoming, and only its progress could be observed directly through the lens of the camera you'd found in the ruins of a crumbling city center.

There was no one left to hold on to a lost humanity… except you. These history books, these tales of the years that modern society had never had the pleasure of exploring in its own lifetime, but only through the remnants that others recounted - in those historic eras of the birth of societies - were going to be the last. And the world you knew would eventually die in the memories of the few humans who would in turn die out without being able to ensure an offspring.

Only you would be left to remember this humanity. And if you dared to hope that the memories of the apes around you would be passed down through the generations, there was little hope that humans would live on in their memories and the tales you imagined would come to life around the rise of simian societies.

Perhaps that's what prompted you to bring back that camera. A Polaroid you knew would only last a year, or as long as you could find enough to keep it going between the batteries and photo paper it consumed with every click to capture an event, a group of apes fishing, or the sometimes gigantic wooden constructions rising several meters above your head.

Those pictures that were instantly printed would stay. They would tell the story. They would remember the time when humanity had been turned upside down and could not turn back. They would remember the new world that was being built under your admiring gaze. And they wouldn't forget. They wouldn't forget what the world had been, what humans had done and what the world was about to become.

It was important. You couldn't fully imagine how significant it was, but you'd been steeped in history classes and there was something comforting about knowing about a past you'd never witnessed. Perhaps because it was proof… the only proof of the existence of the past.

And if you'd been willing to give up the humanity you'd lived in, you weren't yet ready to forget its existence.

Through the lens, you could see the symbol made from pieces of wood hanging at the entrance to the village. A circle containing the shape of a four-pointed star. The symbol of Caesar, his words and the ideology he embodied. It was the kind of memory one shouldn't forget.

“Why… symbol?”

A sudden jolt.

Your finger pressed the button, completely out of focus on the image you'd just tried to center, and the click was followed by the distinctive sound of a photo printing. Your eyes turned for a second to the owner of the baritone voice as an amused sigh escaped your lips when you saw the blurred picture emerge from the polaroid.

“Because it's important.” You answered casually, a small smile on your face.

Caesar puffed through his nostrils, lips pursed in a brief upward movement as he tried to grasp the interest you had behind every picture you took. He'd seen it all before, thanks to Will. He knew humans liked that sort of thing even if it made no sense to him.

“It's important to remember.”

You went on, again looking into the lens to adjust the image of the symbol. This time, the photo came out clearly and the four-pointed star stood proudly in the center, the angle of the picture making it even more imposing than it was.

Caesar remained silent, his face eternally scowling, but you had a well-trained eye, you spotted a certain curiosity well hidden in the corner of his solemn gaze and you handed him the picture with a big smile.

“Long from now, the apes will be able to remember, thanks to this photo.” You carried on, lowering the camera to observe with your own eyes the life of the apes displayed in front of you.

Caesar listened carefully, and the ridge of his eyes hardened, puzzled by your words.

“Why… keep… the past?”

A very human notion, certainly. What's the point of remembering what yesterday was when today brings everything you need? And you seemed to be asking yourself the same question. Caesar didn't often see you with your eyebrows furrowed, your facial features slightly tense as your eyes sought a suitable answer to give him. Your hand went to the back of your neck to try and soothe the tension in your muscles, and he knew from this simple gesture that you were going to need time to build up a thought that you probably hadn't even considered yet.

You kept this attitude only in those moments when a simple question made you question again everything you were sure of, and Caesar took a certain pride in it. An ape making a human doubt. There was something exhilarating behind this feat. Even if you'd never seemed narrow-minded in your ideas, it was pleasant to see you reflect on a notion that seemed so obvious to you.

Humans were always like that. Sure of themselves and their beliefs. Confident that their values were the best, without questioning for a second their credibility or the nuances that might exist.

Why remember the past? What was the point of knowing about the advent of human societies? The horrors and destructive wars? The great names of men and women who have left their mark on history in one way or another? The great dates, whether of atrocity or freedom?

And beyond human history, and in the more mundane events of everyday life, what was the point of remembering our childhood home? Or that old aunt telling of her travels to the other side of the world? Or that birthday when nobody came?

Your fingers traveled to your wristband, tracing the outlines of the polished bone pieces under Caesar's gaze. If not for this wristband, or this lame hip, what would drive you to remember why Caesar and his kind had taken you under their wings? There was nothing else. Your body had forgotten the torture and pain. There was nothing tangible to prove the existence of abuse apart from that wristband and that hip. The brain was quick enough to forget what was of no use to it or what was too painful to remain in living memory. And if the brain forgot, if there was nothing to remind it to remember, how could one prove the existence of what had been?

And… why should one prove it?

“Because it existed… and… if we forget, how could we do any better?”

Caesar snorted, and you watched his eyes widen dubiously. Had humans done better? He wasn't very knowledgeable about humanity's past, and on second thought, maybe he wasn't interested enough: whatever had been, good or bad today, that's what was important.

“Humans… have they done better?”

Caesar was skeptical, and had every reason to be. On second glance, perhaps humans were doing worse today. The lesson was never learned, and the human was diving headfirst back into his bad habits, making sure to choke on them. This made you smile. His skepticism was right in spite of you, and you even suspected that he knew more about the human species than you did.

“No,” you answered with a giggle. “But apes might.”

There was a glimmer of hope in your eyes. The human cause was lost, and had been for a long time. Even before the virus had spread, humanity had already begun to dig its own grave. Beyond the wars and hatred, the Earth itself was rotting from the inside out under the impact of the human hand. It had only ever been a matter of time before humanity came to the end of its reign.

You weren't even sorry to see your species die out. You were only sorry that it was taking everything else with it.

There was a form of supplication in your eyes. Let the apes do better. Better than wars, better than hatred, better than the destruction of nature, better than the aggressive ambition of some men, better than… the human species in all its consequences.

Caesar raised his head proudly. He was sure of one thing: apes were, in all their consequences, better than humans.

“Apes… don't need… to remember… to do better.”

His gruff voice was adamant, and despite his assurance, a twinge of anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. How could one do better if no one remembered what had been? You looked up at him, and couldn't help admiring the self-assured features Caesar wore on his face. Broad-shouldered and imposing, his chest puffed out in defiance of anyone who wished to argue with him, what would become of simian society if he were no longer present in the minds of the apes?

You saw it every day. All you had to do was say his name and the apes would bend their backs without batting an eyelid. But none were afraid of him. Caesar had earned the respect of his people because they knew how, thanks to him, they had won their freedom. They respected him and his words, because they remembered.

“In 300 years, don't you want to become the legend of Grumpy Caesar?”

Your gently teasing laugh was greeted by a grumble, probably offended by the nickname you kept harping into his ears, but for the benevolent smile that followed every time, Caesar could never take it the wrong way. It was you, and he'd learned that your words of affection sometimes resembled those teasing words. Those words always followed by a slight, playful shove of the back of your hand against his biceps as your lips stretched happily. He'd also noticed that this was the only time you dared to touch him. And that made him smile.

To become a legend, there was no such thing in the minds of the apes. When his body had breathed the last breath of oxygen that life would grant him, and the sun had decided to stop shining on him, the apes would find another sturdy branch on which to stand. This was how it was meant to be, and his name would become nothing more than the caress of the wind, forgotten once it had gone by.

“Too faraway, apes will forget.”

Caesar preferred to sign these words. Sign language always seemed to have a deeper meaning. When audible words didn't speak loud enough to resonate emotions swallowed up far beneath the ribcage, signs spoke with more truth. A truth that seemed very heavy to you.

The apes will forget. Perhaps that was the truest and saddest thing of all. His name will crumble in the memory of the apes like wood devoured by growing flames. And once the wood has shattered, it will simply lie in a pile of ashes, waiting for the breeze to carry it away and scatter it as it pleases until there's nothing left.

It was his truth. At least, if there was nothing to remind them of him. Your eyes fell on the camera hanging around your neck before settling back on Caesar. He was looking at his people the way he looked at his sons, and if that's all it took to save his name, whether he understood it or not, you'd immortalize the little stones that were building his empire as many times as he'd let you.

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

An empire shaped like a ship to endure the years, and when it was the captain's turn to walk the plank to fulfill the ocean's call, the rudder had slipped into your hands. And you accepted it. You knew that sailing against wind and tide would be an arduous task. You knew it. And it seemed to you that you had fought well. Sails wide open to catch as much wind as possible and the remaining crew paddling hard against the pull of fallen anchors. The endeavor had been going on for a long time.

For so long.

For too long.

Every crew member was an anchor desperately dragged along by the ship you were trying to keep afloat until the mainsail gave way. The increasing weight and the fading wind had worn away the fabric until only the tatters floated scattered in the wind. And the boat that had sailed at full speed for so long found itself slowing down… more and more, until the natural swell of the blue vastness became its only driving force.

No matter whether you wanted to go to port or starboard, the ocean pushed the boat in the direction it thought best without ever consulting you, sometimes leading it into storms where the sea grew high above the masts. You often watched helplessly as the huge waves crashed over the deck, washing away the rubble that an earlier storm had caused, and soon, shipwreck would be bound to occur.

How long had you been at the helm before you let go? A rudder that had let you down long before you gave up. And how long had you just watched that rudder go from left to right at the mercy of the ocean without doing anything about it?

You weren’t sure how to act upon it. As natural as it had been in the past, navigating Caesar’s memory again across this ocean had become a mystery.

If time hadn’t run its best sprint, perhaps there would have been a time when explaining would have been easy.

But today…

Today, the sand bank on the horizon might just become a mere illusion.

Your glassy gaze fell on Raka as he watched your fingers run over the frame and brush against Caesar's image. Such a simple question demanded an equally simple answer. But was it really? Telling them that you'd known him would most certainly trigger a cataclysm that would turn your dilapidated ship upside down, and you were already lacking strength at the mere thought of having to put it back afloat. Swimming to the end of an endless journey was not in your plans, even if the countdown to impact was already ticking away in front of your eyes.

Raka's green eyes eventually found yours, and a series of soft hootings encouraged you to speak as you could only swallow as you spoke anxiously.

“ What about you… how do you know them?”

You watched his gaze slide from your eyes to Noa's, who was listening to your conversation with great interest. His curious stare dropped like a domino to the gauntlet on his left hand, and with a precise gesture, Noa pulled out a pendant crafted from what looked like white wood.

A pendant in the shape of…

“The order of Caesar, naturally!” Raka exclaimed as if it was an obvious fact.

A four-pointed star.

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Isekai Yandere Strawhats X Black Fem reader Chapter 19

Masterlist

Previous

It felt like the entirety of the last few months was a dream. Not being able to tell anyone about what you had experienced made you feel as if you were on the brink of insanity. You were back to the old life, not that you were angry, or sad for that matter. Your surroundings were just blurry and so was your mind. 

You didn’t pay attention to most things that were in front of you, that’s why it took you so long to realize that next week was thanksgiving. A part of you, the part that suffered and laughed with these people was still somehow stuck in that universe. You had read online a few years ago that prolonged time in another reality would make you feel every symptom you were feeling now, you ignored it. 

This wave of repressed emotions trampled you, it kept you stuck to the ground drowning in an abyss of confusion. “ Y/n I need you to go to the market adn buy the perishables for thursday and– are you listening to me?” knocking you back into your world you seen your mother looking at you in concern. Poor woman had absolutely no idea what was happening to you. 

Everyone around you noticed the change, they simply thought you were going through teenage angst or something else. You would laugh to yourself at times, imagine if they really knew of the turmoil you were dealing with. You would be dropped off at the hospital with quickness. 

At night you didn’t sleep the same, although you were almost always fighting for your life you were also accustomed to the sounds of the waves and the subtle rocking of the ship which helped you fall asleep. The night before thanksgiving you were forced to relive the events of what happened, as your cousin talked your ear off you slowly tuned out the noise when remembering the bone chilling statements of the strawhats. 

“ Y/n… if you leave you will regret this.”

Law was injured, he had been fighting both Luffy and Zoro to give you more time, the rest of the two crews were fighting amongst themselves while you were below deck of the polar tang trying to drown out the noise. The screams of your name were angry, betrayed, and vicious. Luffy shoved his way through Law stretching his arm to grab onto the ship, Law was quick though and used his ability before Zoro could strike him. You were hiding in his room with the door locked and his desk shoved in front of it, the two of you knew how much of a gamble you were taking. 

After agreeing that he would come with you and finally going through your plan you both silently agreed that maybe, in the future after Wano he would come. You knew that although it was unspoken that would probably never happen, you completely altered this timeline. This version of the one piece world was tainted by you in some of the worst ways, turning the heroes into villains that you seen them go up against and the villains that they’ve never even come face to face with. 

You wish you could have law by your side at this moment, and just as you were about the break down the door began to rattle on it’s hinges. 

“ Y/n! I know you’re in there, just come out. We can fix this, we can be as we used to. Don’t leave us.” Luffy sobbed. 

You quickly rushed under the bed. What a cliche you thought. You had to get serious now, it was time to go home and you weren’t going to let anyone or anything stop you. You were in over your head when you got here but you weren’t to blame. Who would’ve know that the people you admire the most would turn out to be monsters. 

When the door unlocked you were almost a memory, fading from this world and from the strawhast grap. Luffy quickly rushed under the bed trying to grasp at the strans off you, the anger in his body welling up. Law had slowly stalked in behind him with his infamous smirk, and Zoro was not too far behind. Angrily he dragged your feather of a body from beneath the bed, “ Y/n… if you leave you will regret this.”

Ashiver ran down your spine but you wouldn’t give himthe satisfaction of seeng you terrified for the last time. When your eyes fluttered yuou realizied you were back in your room, everything as it was and you decided to do the last thing in order to severe the link between that world nd yours. Without another thought you rushed around your room like a mad woman, scrambling for the bits and pieces you needed and when all was said and done you collapsed. 

When you came to it your mother was calling you and your cousin to run a few errands for her. The chill of the fall weather helped keep you grounded and you finally felt like you could fully enjoy their company without being lost in what should be forgotten memories. 

The next few months were a breath of fresh air. You were becoming whole again and life had more meaning than just escaping. You began speaking to people online about your experience, you put into a story. To others your story was fiction, a thought borne from the imagination plastered into the net for an online audience to enjoy. But to you, this was your life story, and you knew it would be far from over. 

The End… of chapter 1

Authors Note: I would just like to say how grateful I am. When I started this series and this account I was at the lowest point of my life, I thought I would live in a never-ending nightmare forever until I started writing. I am so happy that so many people enjoyed this series and I apologize for stringing you along after maybe like the tenth chapter, I want you to know that although at one point I didn't really know what to do with this story anymore I fully put my all into every chapter. I am not a perfect writer but the comments of you all saying how much you like my story and you want more chapters gave me a breath of life that I desperately needed in order to continue. Thank you all and I hope you continue to watch me grow as a writer. - Symphony

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[solarrush]

You couldn’t help leaning forward over the railing just a bit as the next mer was introduced. His size alone was a marvel, and, quite frankly, Monty had to be the most badass of the crew. His handler was petite in an all-black suit contrasted by their cropped, lime green hair.

“Hey folks, make some noise for the baddest mer on the block!” Their stance spread beneath the green spotlight as their arms opened wide, the crowd screaming in delight as Monty’s massive form rose from below and breached to his dorsal spines, intimidating maw snapping shut on morsel suspended from the ceiling. Splashing back into the water, Monty lazily swam back to his handler, swallowing the morsel whole.

“I’m Jessie, and this big guy is my partner Monty! Monty’s size and thick scales are courtesy of his sturgeon DNA. You might recognize some of his traits…”

Finally introducing Monty’s design from my FNAF Mermay fics!

Read the first part of the series, Song for a Siren and keep an eye out for part two updates, Abyss Eclipsed! ;3c

Monty without effects below the cut ✨

[gatheredfates]

a homecoming | koret swan

Do you want to read all my FFXIV prompts? You can do that here! The master document also contains any misc. notes and information. 🌊

HORIZON: the line at which the earth's surface and the sky appear to meet. for example, the sun rose above the horizon.

A calloused hand thumbed the familiar notch of the king spoke; an irony of primals, a living metaphor for the concept of a ship of theseus, and the source of Koret Swan’s contemplation.

When was a ship no longer a ship? When all its parts were reforged—when its captain was replaced or displaced? A familiar groove affixed to unfamiliar bronze, barely in her hand before she had to hand it over.

Yet, as she stood in that familiar place against an unfamiliar backdrop, it felt like a homecoming.

“I do not mind the excuse for a holiday,” teased a familiar voice from behind. The captain rolled her eye (did it have the same effect as the plural? She supposed it didn’t matter—supposed he’d understand it all the same) and canted her head back to look at her first mate, ever stuffy in his fitted coat with curly-black hair mussed from the breeze.

“You’re fucking stupid,” she answered in turn, prompting Robince to laugh. He watched as the Wolfsbane went over its final checks: supplies for the voyage, people to account for, tallies to be counted. He’d be busier than he ever was, handing over his own captaincy for the voyage, but she’d accept no other vessel—no other crew. They’d gone to a hundred ‘new’ places, why would this new world be any different?

It did not. A ship was still a ship, a woman was still a leader, and the sea still an abyss.

When the signal was given he stood to point, rapt attention given to the deck and the men and women under their charge. They looked to him and awaited his signal—awaited her permission and her initiation.

“By your leave then, Madame,” he said, glancing at her for just a second. His lips pulled upwards, a smile to match her confident smirk. “You know which way to go?”

“Yeah.” Her thumb passed the notch one final time before she turned the wheel, feeling the rudder shudder beneath them. “To that horizon.”

Robince’s voice was loud and strong, cutting over the din.

“You heard the captain, men! To that horizon!”

[aquilapolariz]

shame of the sea (portgas d. ace x reader)

Summary: You-and the stars and the ocean- bear witness to Ace’s secrets.

Notes/ Warnings: SPOILERS for Ace's background, follows canon, Ace flirts to cope and reader is nosy, there are probably some astronomy inaccuracies

Word Count: 2.2k | Read below the cut or on Ao3

Ace was on the edge of the deck, staring out at the night sky, the glittering stars gazing back at him. Behind him, Marco, Thatch, and you looked at him pensively, wondering whether or not he would accept the position of Second Division Commander. “He deserves it,” you whispered. “More than anyone here, he deserves it.”

Thatch and Marco nodded, their eyes not leaving the Whitebeard emblem on Ace’s back. But you, however, saw Ace’s fist clench and his shoulders tense. “Normally he’s filled with certainty, but I wonder what’s got him hesitating…” you trailed off, thinking out loud. You stared at his unclothed back. His broad shoulders, usually strong and poised as if only an earthquake could shake him, had fallen in defeat, his back hunched over in uncertainty. 

“Who knows?” Thatched mused.

“Whether or not he takes it, he’s our only option. A damn good one at that. Who can say no to such an offer?” Marco added.

You fired back a reply mentally- Only someone who’s scared of the duties of the position. Someone who doesn’t think they’re worthy. Someone who doesn’t believe they deserve it. Under his loyal, reckless, and confident persona, what did he keep concealed? 

Marco yawned, “Think I’m going to bed.” He raised his voice, “Ace! You got the night watch?”

Ace turned around, suddenly pulled out of his private conversation with the stars and back onto the wooden floorboards of the Moby Dick. “Yessir,” he said, flashing a relaxed smile. 

“Think about it a little more,” Thatch said to Ace while turning to follow Marco into the crew’s quarters. 

“Good night,” you said to the two of them. You slowly walked next to Ace, joining him on the railing of the deck. “You always seem sad when you think no one’s looking at you,” you said, an observation that you’ve taken notice of ever since Ace joined the Whitebeard crew. Despite that, every time since then, whenever his gaze would meet yours, his lips would curl into a smile. This time was no exception.

“Can’t take your eyes off me, can you?”

You ignored him, unfazed by his flirtatious remark. “Tell me- what are you thinking about, Fire Fist?” you asked sincerely. 

“Just-” he scrunched his face. “I’m not sure about this whole second division commander thing.” 

You hummed. “Well, if there are any concerns…you know you could talk to Pops about it.” Ace was never afraid to speak his mind to Whitebeard, both before and after he joined the crew. You wondered what was so heavy on his heart that he’d be afraid to speak to the man he called father.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to work up the courage for that all night,” he said, smiling sheepishly.

“You could talk to me too, y’know. What’s on your mind, Ace?” you asked earnestly.

“You,” he said without missing a beat.

You rolled your eyes at his deflection. “You have way more important things to be thinking about.”

Ace grinned, shrugging. But he wasn’t lying. He always thought about you- what you’d think if he told you about the shame he carries with him, what you’d say, what you’d feel. In his heart he knew that you’d never look at him any differently, but did he even deserve your grace? Did he deserve to live a life where you were okay, even happy, with his existence? Being offered the position of Second Division Commander dug up fears he thought he forgot, fears he never knew he would have. Did he deserve to lead, to have lives in the palm of his hand? What would Whitebeard think once he found out he was working so closely with his rival’s son? The questions ran on and on in his mind. He would look to anything for an answer: the sun, the moon, the ocean, the stars, anything but his own crew. 

Below you, you watched the black abyss of the nighttime ocean, searching for your own answers, for anything to say to Ace. 

“What happened to living with no regrets?” you said quietly.

Ace’s eyes widened. “(Y/N)...”

You turned to look at him, your eyes boring holes into his own. “Whatever is holding you back, will it be stronger than your regret?”

He swallowed. No, nothing would be stronger than his regret- he wouldn’t let it. Placing his hand over yours, he held it and squeezed, seemingly transferring his warmth to you. “I think…you just gave me the courage to talk to Pops.” 

A mutual exchange, it seemed.

You sighed a breath of relief. “That’s grea-”

“Do you mind taking the night watch for a couple of minutes while I talk to him?”

“Wait, like, right now?” 

Ace nodded excitedly. How could you deny him?

“Okay,” you told him as your eyes softened.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, (Y/N). For everything.” He let go of his hand from yours, taking his warmth with it- a sobering observation of what life without Ace would be like. 

“No problem, Fire Fist.” Ace was already walking away. 

He headed towards the Captain’s Cabin on the deck, opening and entering the doorway to where Pops resided. You stared above you at the night sky, waiting patiently for the sound of the door to open, remembering that just moments ago that Ace was in your spot, having a silent discussion with the constellations above. You could make out a constellation in the North: Hercules, the shape of a man kneeling. Was he attacking an enemy? Was he kneeling from exhaustion? From shame? Still, as the minutes pass, the thoughts drift to Ace.

What made Ace doubt himself? There were so many possibilities. He is the Fire Fist Ace, a seemingly divine hero to many- what unknown burdens could a man like him hold? 

Tearing your eyes away from the constellation, you came to realize that the stars only raise more questions, rather than answering them. It’s no wonder Ace had stared at them so aimlessly, in the same way you did. You would only find your answers- and so much more- in him, not anywhere else.

“(Y/N)! Thanks for standing in,” Ace said from behind you, causing you to flinch a little. You turned around, leaning back on the port side of the ship. 

“Had a good father-son talk?”

“A great one.” Ace put both of his hands on your shoulders. “(Y/N)...don’t tell anyone else yet- I want it to be a surprise. I’m officially gonna be the Second Division Commander!”

You mirrored Ace, smiling brightly, relieved and proud. “Ace, this is huge!” Pulling him into a hug, he reciprocated instantly, wrapping his arms around you, carrying you and spinning you around. In the silence of the night, it felt like you two were the only ones on the ship, the stars looking down fondly and waves applauding you. A burden seemed to be lifted from his shoulders and into the night sky. 

Ace set you down, his smile never breaking. “Congrats, Fire Fist. You deserve it. More than anyone, you deserve it,” you told him, repeating what you had said to Marco and Thatch. 

His jaw dropped slightly, but he quickly recovered. “Thanks Firefly. You should probably head to bed now,” Ace said kindly, knowing that you’re never assigned to lookout. “I have the night watch.”

“I should,” you bit your lip, “but I think we should celebrate your new position. A little pre-party before the actual party with the whole crew. Plus, I can’t leave you alone- it’s not often I’m on the deck at night.” You scanned around the usually bustling ship. “It’s peaceful.”

Doubt flashed through Ace’s eyes. It didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I told you already. You deserve it. Now, let me grab some rum!” You quickly turned to head down to the galley, quietly walking through the lower deck. You grabbed two bottles and headed back up, not wanting to leave Ace alone with his thoughts for too long.

“Here you go,” you handed Ace the larger bottle as he thanked you. “Here’s to Fire Fist Ace, the Whitebeard Crew’s Second Division Commander!”

You clinked your bottles together, a sound both of you knew too well. Drinking together, with just the two of you, felt more intimate, more sacred. The moon softly lit the side of Ace’s face, his smile looking even brighter in the dark. 

“Why do you keep getting put on night watch? Doesn’t everyone know you’ll fall asleep in the middle of it?” you laughed.

“Good thing you’re here to keep me awake this time around.”

“You’re welcome, but don’t get used to it.”

“C’mon, you should join me on lookout from here on out,” Ace said as he pushed his shoulder against yours.

“Look at you, already spouting out orders as a division commander,” you replied as you pushed back. 

“That means you can’t say no.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

Sitting on the wooden floor of the deck, shoulder to shoulder, between laughter and eye rolls, the two of you talked endlessly. 

“Now, what did Whitebeard say to make you take the job?” you asked, liquid courage fueling your curiosity. 

“Something like ‘we’re all children of the sea,’” Ace gave his best Whitebeard impression. 

“Please, never do that again,” you took a sip of rum. “What made him say that?” 

With every sip of rum, Ace’s lips were getting looser. “I told him something I never tell anyone.”

“And that is?”

Ace paused. Would you hate him if he told you the truth? Would you never speak to him again? But his thoughts stopped there, feeling guilty for thinking that you’d do something terrible to him. You disarmed him, but the alcohol made him feel even more exposed with nothing left to hide. He felt vulnerable, yet safe. 

And so he decided to surrender himself to you.

He took a deep breath. “I told Pops that-”

“You don’t have to tell me,” you said, truly meaning it.

Your words struck a chord within him, confirming that you could truly do no wrong, only further enticing him to share all his woes with you. He admitted absolute defeat, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I want to. (Y/N), I am Gol D. Roger’s son.”

You noticed that, despite shedding his inhibitions, he still had the sense to choose those words carefully; it was I’m Gol D. Roger’s son rather than my father is Gol D. Roger. 

You tried your best to hide your surprise, but it showed as soon as you let your jaw drop. “Portgas D. Ace?” you said questioningly, his name slowly forming on your tongue. 

“My mom’s name. It was Portgas D. Rouge.”

You looked at him, silently urging him to continue. And so he did. Memories of being treated like the devil’s offspring, of being raised by a navy admiral were spoken into words, received by your nods, beckoning him to go on and on. “I don’t wanna regret anything. I just wanna live life the way I want and to feel like I deserve to live that way.”

Whitebeard’s cabin was only a couple feet away from the two of you. You silently thanked your captain. “It’s like Pops said, we’re all children of the sea. The ocean is… this great equalizer. You are you and…I like that, Roger’s son or not. M’glad Pops knocked some sense into you. Not only do you deserve the position, but you deserve to be here.” 

“Heh, figured you’d say that,” Ace said.

You shook your head. “But you don’t believe me.”

“Can’t get anything past you.”

“Yeah, so there’s no use trying to.”

Ace took the final sip of his drink, only drops of amber coming from the rim of the bottle. “Thank you,” he looked at you, his gaze forcing you to hold your own on him, “for understanding me.” 

Ace, the shame of the sea and burden of the brine, wanted to believe the silver-laced affirmations of yours; he wished the bullets of your words would penetrate his thickheaded skull and make him think he was truly worthy.

But they didn’t. And to him, that didn’t matter. He was just glad that you could be the one to justify his existence when he couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t complain. 

“If only you saw yourself through my eyes,” you yawned. 

Ace fell silent, reluctant to even look at you. 

You let your head rest on the uncomfortable wooden deck and stared at the stars that seemed to shine brighter than they did before. Taking one last look at the constellation of Hercules, it was clear to you now that he was kneeling in exhaustion. Maybe tomorrow he would kneel fearlessly over his enemies, triumphant and sure. But for now, he only looked down upon the seas with shame. 

“What did the stars tell you earlier?” you asked.

“I guess,” he tilted his neck up to see the Herculean pattern of stars, “they told me that I’m the one who decides what I’m gonna be.”

With no words to fill the void, you closed your eyes, the waves of alcohol and the ocean rocking you to sleep.

[narrans]

Stellar Allies | Part One

GT July | Stellar Allies | Part One

Words: Studying, Plush, Behemoth, Shipwreck, Alien

Sirens blared all around him. Lights flashed, creating blinding sparks left and right. There was no choice now. The vessel needed to land – and now. The controls and steering mechanisms groaned and tugged against his grip.

This landing wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Just another mission. In and out. Routine. Yeah, routine my juthez! Make contact with the team. It’ll be easy. Communication breakdown is common. Juthez! This is bad!” These thoughts wouldn’t do any of them any good now.

With all his might, he threw himself backwards and attempted to level off the ship, but the damage along the edges of the wings was irreparable. Whatever had hit them knew exactly how to incapacitate their ship to force a landing.

“It’s no use!” the captain pathed. “Get to the escape pods! Coordinates have been sent. Go!”

“Captain!” The second-in-command was shot a single look, which silenced her. The captain leaned over and tapped a few lights on the console, giving the ensign a determined look.

“You heard the order. Get to the pods. I’ll be close behind. Go!”

Relinquishing the controls was the most difficult thing he’d ever done, but it was the captain’s orders and the longer he waited the less of a chance the captain would have to get out safely.

“See you soon, captain,” the ensign pathed as he slid out from the chair and ran to the escape pods. It took only two seconds to slide on the emergency suit, even though it felt like an eternity, and the ensign slid into the pod, slamming it shut behind him. The other places were vacant, showing the other members of the crew had already ejected.

He was the last one other than the captain.

Leaning back and scanning in, the pod rumbled around him before ejecting. The space craft was igniting rapidly from what little the ensign could see as he sped off through the atmosphere and to the ground far below. The wings broke off. The shields were obviously failing. The ensign watched with wide-eyed horror as the ship continued to burn up as it entered the atmosphere.

Something broke free from the ship. Was it the other escape pod? Was it just more debris? There wasn’t time to think about it as the ensign’s escape pod clipped something else, making it spin and spiral.

The ground far below was spinning out of control. Everything was blurring. Nausea swelled inside him. As the pod entered the atmosphere, the ensign blacked out, hoping beyond hope that his pod would arrive at the same emergency destination as the others after hitting some unknown thing in orbit and not somewhere completely off course.

How quickly those hopes would be dashed….

~~~^*^*^~~~

Space. An unlimited source of curiosity. The ever expanding abyss that exists all around us. It is the Dark Forest. It is the potential for greatness. It is the terror of the unknown.

It was here that Clifford Neilson found his true fascination. He had been studying it for years. Well, he and his best friend Jaxon Warner. Both boys were obsessed with the idea of going into space. They stared up at the Nevada sky for hours upon hours once it was supposed to be lights out for bedtime just to gaze at the night sky. They’d memorized the constellations and made their own telescopes before their parents bought them each one for their thirteenth birthdays.

Their love of science and the enjoyment of many of the same media forms made them best friends from early on in their lives. They were inseparable from day one of elementary school and they were still so in the summer before their first year of high school.

So, as they gazed up at the summer sky admiring the view, they naturally were in contact with one another. It was the time for the Perseids Meteor Showers, and naturally both boys were glued to their windows. As a massive streak lit up the sky, Clifford reached over toward his desk and fumbled for his walkie-talkie.

“Cliff to Jax. Cliff to Jax. Do you copy?” hissed Cliff into his walkie. The mechanical button clicked under the pressure of his fingers and a light static filled the air by his ear. There was a click and the sound of jostling on the other end of the line before his best friend’s voice filled the air.

“Jax to Cliff. I read you buddy. Did you see the tail on that last one?” asked Jax. “And don’t forget to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking. Over.” Cliff rolled his eyes, which almost made him miss the next shooting star, as he clicked the button onto his walkie again.

“Copy, and I definitely did see it. I can’t believe how many we’re getting tonight. And don’t you lecture me about radio etiquette. I’m the one who taught you about using ‘over.’ Over.” Cliff’s elbows ached as he continued to lean against them as he absorbed the sky above him. The billions of twinkling lights above him was absolutely mesmerizing. He already knew he’d be asking for an astrophotography set that was compatible with his telescope for his next birthday.

“Hahaha sure buddy. Big ole’ 10-4 on that. Anyway, you logging all of these? I’m trying to guestimate the length of the tails and approximate where they’d land if they collided with earth. Over,” Jax replied. His mocking laugh on the other side of the line would have gotten under Cliff’s skin if not for the next series of massive meteors falling from the sky making beautiful arcs as they burned up in the atmosphere.

“I haven’t actually. That’s a good idea though. We’ve got some record breakers tonight,” muttered Cliff, mouth agape as he stared up. A twinge in his neck as he craned it backward to keep a full view of the sky made him groan. He pulled his eyes from the sky to try and massage the area.

“You okay dude? Over?” asked Jax. Cliff glanced down at his radio and noticed he hadn’t fully released the “talk” button. Jax probably just heard a garbled moan from his side of the radio. Leave it to a friend to call me out on this stuff Cliff thought.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. Just a tweak in my neck. Didn’t mean to cut out on you. Over,” replied Cliff. He heard his friend scoff over the line and, before he even said anything, Cliff already knew what Jax was going to say.

“From looking up? Shouldn’t you be used to that since you’re always looking up? Over,” stated Jax. Cliff felt himself shaking his head and laughing silently as he understood his friend’s meaning; and it wasn’t just a looking up at space joke. Cliff had achondroplasia, so he was usually looking up at the people around him. It was said in jest and meant as a joke between them, along with the frequent joke of, “You’ll always look up to me,” stupidness, but it still made Cliff smile.

Jax was one of his only friends who didn’t treat him any differently than anyone else, and the jokes that he made were ones Cliff genuinely thought were amusing. He rolled his eyes and clicked his button again.

“Yeah, ya’ big oaf. I can only imagine how your neck must feel. Do giants have neck problems? Over,” grinned Jax.

“Naw, man. It’s in the knees. Always in that deep squat to talk to everyone. Gotta get that replaced. Know any good doctors? Over,” asked Jax. Cliff opened his mouth to retort when a massive streak ignited the sky. All words abandoned him as he gazed up at the dazzling lights. “Woah! Man! Are you seeing this? Over!”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, mind barely registering that he had squeezed the “talk” button as he watched the tail ignite the sky. Cliff’s eyes fixated on the meteor, but then something caught his eye. There was something about how it was breaking apart that didn’t seem like a normal meteor.

Thinking fast, Cliff redirected his telescope to the sky and the place where he could see the tail. He had just gotten it in his sights when he saw seven different pieces break off one by one. What was interesting was the fact each one of the pieces broke off separately with little bursts, each propelling it away from the main body. It was a behemoth of a meteor, at least for average size measures, and was sure to make the news the next day.

Cliff nearly continued tracking along the main body of the meteor but paused when one of those fragments broke off and, to his sheer excitement, saw it hurdling toward him. He pried himself away from his telescope and looked back out the window eagerly, heart pounding a hole right through him.

Sure enough. The piece he saw before looked like it had broken off and was arcing right for the ground and, if he was right, it was probably going to land close. Cliff watched with baited breath as the larger mass continued toward the ground far to the north while the smaller fragment he spotted spiraled and crashed. The teen boy was practically throwing himself against the window as he realized where the meteorite had impacted.

“My dude! Did you see that? Did you see it! It landed! We’ve got a meteorite in the fields! It’s in the park! It’s gotta be!” Cliff was sprinting around his room pulling on a jacket and his science bag while shoving his radio clip through the side pocket. He was pulling on his headphones when he heard Jax’s reply.

“I know! I know! And you didn’t say over! Over!” Jax said. From the rustling sounds Cliff heard in the background, he guessed his friend was also pulling on his clothes.

“I’m on my way down the block. Meet me there on your bike. We’re going after it! Over!” hissed Cliff eagerly. Despite his excitement, the teenager was able to slip out of his childhood home past his parents’ room without issue and, within a minute, was on his Joni peddling his heart out.

He beat Jax by only a few seconds as the two boys turned their attention to the fields that led to the national park right across the way. Both boys gazed in the direction they saw the crash and grinned at one another eagerly.

“You think we can actually make it?” asked Jax. “Before anyone else I mean. I can’t imagine we’re the only ones who saw that.”

“Only one way to find out. It’s probably a few miles in. Fastest peddling will get us there in fifteen to twenty minutes if we’re really going at it,” estimated Cliff. Jax grinned and pushed his unruly hair out of his eyes and under the rim of his helmet.

“Then we’d better get moving,” he said firmly.

Determination and excitement fueled the two boys as they turned their bikes to the swath of desert that lay in front of them. The terrain was tricky and navigating in the dark was also a bit of a beast. These boys, however, were undeterred. With their monochromatic lights geared for seeing in the dark and their knowledge of the terrain, their adventure felt short lived despite nearly thirty minutes passing since they’d left the safety of their home to charge out into the midnight lit desert.

Jax and Cliff both huffed and puffed as they pushed their bikes up the final part of the hill. The entire way, the smell of burning stone filled their nostrils. They knew they were close, and they had the right gear for the job. They’d done their research and had several of the essentials including gloves, tongs, aluminum foil, and even multiple containers to put it in. They’d figure out how to divide it up later.

As they crested over the hill, they saw it – a small crater. It wasn’t very big, but neither of them expected something massive. It was just a meteorite fragment after all. The bigger piece was far to the north, and it was way too far away for them to go after tonight. This piece, however, was going to be perfect for the aspiring astronauts.

“Almost… there,” puffed Jax. He hopped back on his bike and rode the hill all the way back down. Cliff did the same. The bumpy terrain shook Cliff up one side and down the other, but he didn’t care. This was going to be his first adventure harvesting a meteorite. The first of many if he had anything to say about it.

Cliff was trembling with excitement as he and his friend abandoned their bicycles a few hundred feet away from the flickering, fiery mess burning in the ground.

“Safety first,” Cliff instructed as he pulled off his backpack and put on a filtered face mask that he’d used for chemistry class. Jax did the same before handing Cliff a pair of heat resistant gloves.

“Nice and careful. You get the aluminum foil and I’ll get the tongs,” directed Jax.

“Hey!”

“I’m only saying that because my arms are longer. I don’t want to get too close to the fire. You should be happy you get to hold it first,” Jax pointed out. Cliff rolled his eyes, wanting to be the one to use the tongs, but relented with the alternative of being the first between them to hold a meteorite.

“Got it. Ready?”

“Ready.”

They crouched and cautiously stepped forward. The ground crunched under their shoes as they crouched and inched their way closer and closer to the burning place on the ground. Thankfully, nothing nearby was burning to create a dangerous fire.

Their hearts were hammering faster and faster, both glancing nervously at one another as they approached their target. Cliff wondered what the texture was going to be like. Was it going to be rough or smooth? Would it have ridges or be like an ocean smoothed stone? There were so many different reports of what it could be like.

But, as they approached, the boys began to notice some irregularities. For one, there wasn’t a distinct crater. There were skid marks that were parallel that looked more like that of a docking boat in sand and stone. Jax glanced back at Cliff, who noticed his friend looked just as confused as he felt.

Neither spoke and continued to approach. Cliff felt his hands starting to get cold and clammy within the protective gloves he had on. The hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end, and there was something unsettling in the air. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something off about this area.

Now nearly thirty feet away, they could better see their target, and it made them stop in their tracks. What they expected was a hunk of rock from space, but what they saw was far from that ideal image.

The parallel skid marks didn’t lead to a rock, but a cylindrical tube that was the color of liquid mercury. Something was hissing and whatever it was looked a bit banged up, dents creating odd imperfections in the surface making it look like scuffed silverware. Jax turned around to look at Cliff, mouthing “what on earth” before looking back at the tube.

For a moment, Cliff contemplated turning back or getting Jax’s attention to plan a new strategy, but he knew his curiosity would always get the better of him and already he and his best friend were stepping cautiously forward toward the metallic cylinder. The hissing was starting to subside and, now that they were closer, they could see that it was hissing because there was a small section that was open along the side.

Jax crouched down and, like a military sergeant, he held up his hand with a closed fist, signaling that they should stop. He turned and, in a hushed voice, asked, “Do you see this? It looks like a shipwreck.”

“Yeah. It does,” muttered Cliff as he inched forward toward his friend. “Should we get closer?”

“I mean, I think so. I’m just worried about the hissing and stuff. Like, what is it putting in the air?” asked Jax. Cliff glanced around at the smoldering brush nearby and the tiny flames that hadn’t extinguished yet.

“Well, it’s probably not toxic. Look,” he said as he pointed to the fire. “The flames are still orange. If there were other chemicals in the air, the fire would probably change color.” Jax gave his friend a disbelieving look, actually swinging his head over to stare at his friend before fixing his eyes back on the flames.

“That’s only a little reassuring. There’s a million other explanations for that,” Jax pointed out.

“I know, but it’s what we’ve got. We’re either turning back or investigating. So? Which is it?” The ultimatum made the decision an obvious one. Swallowing dryly, the boys inched forward once again, this time with the intention of moving forward.

Both of them were quaking in their shoes as they were now close enough to glimpse inside the small section of the metal cylinder. Just inside, they could barely make out what looked like some kind of odd plush made of a reflective leather. Tongs in hand, Jax’s trembling hands reached forward and nudged the slit in the metal cylinder open.

The hatch clicked and hissed again as it slid open, parts of it grinding as it clicked open and revealed what was inside. The boys’ jaws went slack as the realization hit them. Neither could tear their eyes away from the sight.

It was an alien. A real alien.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

@gianttol #gtjuly #gtjuly2024

[myeur-n]

Imagine that Sturmhond reveals himself as Prince Nikolai Lantsov, but you couldn't accept it

Disclaimer:

This oneshot is purely based on the Netflix series, so some of the lore might be incorrect

y/n is a female Grisha

Angst/Fluff

"Captain, are you sure that the Saint is stable enough to cross the fold?" y/n approached the captain's table and crossed her arms before him. The Volkvolny was beginning to rumble from the calling of the Fold, and as a Materialki, you weren't really fond of how the wooden planks of the ship you had invented with your Captain begun to stir.

"Y/n, how many times have I asked you to address me by Sturmhond?" The blonde and blue-eyed privateer snickered at you, leaning back against his cushioned chair and crossing his legs. You remained silent and only had a concerned look crossing your features. "Come on, then. Call me by my name then I shall answer you," he added and began beckoning you toward him.

"Alright... Sturmhond. Now answer me," you rolled your eyes. "You know how terrified I am of the Fold. If I get caught by one of the Volcra in there, I'll be demanding that you pay for my health insurance even if I'm dead,".

"I would expect no less from you," he pulled a soft smile at your direction, which almost warmed your heart - almost. You shook your head as he stood up from his chair and stood next to you.

"It'll be alright, y/n. Alina's strong enough with her amplifier. You'll be safe, I can promise you that," he muttered, casting a soft smile at you before he climbed the stairs to the upper deck.

"No doubt he's about to show off the Hummingbird," you rolled your eyes and tailed him.

Before you knew it, you were suddenly up in the air and reaching the entrance of the Fold. You looked up at the abyssal storm, growling and calling before your very eyes. Quickly turning around, you saw that only a few of the Volkvolny crew, including yourself and your captain; the Saint herself and her lover were aboard the Hummingbird.

Alina Starkov looked back at the Fold with a determined glare, while Mal's eyes were clouded with his usual protectiveness. Before you could turn to look at Sturmhond, he had already crossed the ship's deck and stood by your side, linking your arms tightly with his.

"It's going to be alright. You don't have to be scared," he mumbled in a low voice, almost to himself. You could hear the slight tremble in his voice, and you knew you weren't alone in this consuming fear - he felt the same way too.

"Sturmhond," you turned your wrists so your palms could capture his. "I trust you," you nodded once before turning back at the starless sky as darkness consumed your surrounding.

Both of you gasped, but held each other tight. The Fold was pitch black and cold - colder than the sea breeze at night. Your mind suddenly travelled to what you could do as a Grisha. You were just a Materialki - a person who could manipulate earth and steel - but, what use is that when it comes to something as powerful as the darkness?

Suddenly, a blinding white light filled your eyes and it came from the Saint.

Sturmhond's blue eyes filled with marvel and wonder, and your heart ached to see them as you realised that he could never look at you the same way he looked at Alina's beautiful sunlight. You pursed your lips and slowly attempted to loosen your grip of his hand, but it won't move a muscle.

You closed your eyes and hoped that this would end soon.

As no light could pierce your eyelids, you thought that the worst is over, but only found that Alina was gasping for air and could not summon the sunlight anymore. Mal rushed to her side to protect her from the Darkness of the Fold, while Sturmhond quickly removed your hands from his and grabbed his pistol.

You rushed to the front of the Hummingbird and placed your hands on the engine of the ship, forcing the gears to work harder so everyone could get out of the Fold quickly. Some of the crew members screamt as they were grabbed by the Volcra and fell to their death.

You panicked as one of the Volcra almost snatched you into the air, but you had quickly picked up a crowbar and shifted it into a sword before slicing it into half.

"Now, that's my lady!" Sturmhond shouted from across the deck as he continued shooting the beasts. You rolled your eyes and with your last effort, you pushed the engines to their limit before they gave out one last revolution and ceased their turning.

And all of you were so close to getting out of the Fold.

"Brace! Brace for impact!" You shouted loud enough for everyone to hear as you shut your eyes hard and focused your abilities to the front of the ship, bending the round-edged wood to become sharp-edged, so that as they land on the ground, it would pierce the dirt and lessen the damage on the Hummingbird. Sturmhond wasn't going to let it go if she had let his precious invention turn into ruin.

The ship dug into the dirt of East Ravka and slid across the grass. Everyone let out a whelp as their knees collapsed from the impact. You exhaled a large breath and wiped a sweat from your forehead. It was definitely hard to use the small sciences without looking at what you're about to change.

Tamar and Tolya were the first to cheer, while Sturmhond quickly ran over to you.

"Are you alright? You seemed to be doing a lot of work there," he spoke - and for the first time, it seemed like it was out of concern.

"Yeah, and it's all because I had to save your damn ship from falling to pieces," you groaned at him, which only received a long chuckle from him.

Out of the blue, everyone heard the marching of more than a legion of soldiers.

"What's going on?" You muttered to yourself, but your eyes held Sturmhond's.

He avoided them and only shook his head.

"Identify yourself!" The captain of the soldier commanded. The Sun Summoner seemed clearly irritated while Sturmhond grasped her shoulder with his one arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'll handle this," he said and he began to undress himself off his long, ridiculous privateer coat and he seemed to behaving a conversation with the captain. You parted your lips to ask him "Wouldn't you end up naked?", but you quickly took your words back when your eyes perceived Sturmhond wearing a green uniform gilded in golden embroidery, a uniform almost similar to those Ravkan soldiers, but it carried a higher air of command.

"It can't be," the man named Ravski gasped.

"Yes, it is," Sturmhond responded. You unbuckled your knees to get a better view of what was happening.

"Moi Tsarevich," Ravski began to kneel. "My prince,".

You gasped, while Mal and Alina passed each other confused looks.

"I present Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the 22nd Regiment, Soldier of the King's Army, Grand Duke of Udova, and Second Son to his Most Royal Majesty - King Pyotr the Third - Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne!" The captain announced with a spirited voice, while Sturmhond - now Nikolai pulled a smug look across his face.

You couldn't believe your eyes that the man in which you had spent years with was in fact, the estranged Prince of Ravka himself. Your lips quivered as memories came flooding back to you, but you knew that you couldn't cause a scene.

The prince had already been enjoying himself too much.

~•~

Everyone had reached the Stronghold (or moreso like a base) where Grisha who opposed against the Darkling and survivors of East Ravka remained. You spotted Zoya, someone who had always taught you the meaning of hard life back at the Little Palace - greeting Alina Starkov like old friends.

You clenched your fists and held back your tears. Once again, you were a stranger to everyone around you. The only person that you could become yourself was now gone too.

"One week," you took a deep breath in your personal quarters, which was very much far away from Alina and Nikolai's - given your status as a Materialki Grisha. Even Tolya and Tamar's rooms were closer to the Prince's. "Hold on for one week and we shall see," you swallowed the fear in your throat.

Your y/e/c shifted to your modest bed and you laid yourself there - hoping that your memories won't haunt you at night. Everyone was in a meeting to discuss their next move against the Darkling, but you weren't included - as expected.

That night, you recalled the memories from a time long forgotten of you, your brothers and sisters which were called upon to the Little Palace and serve as the Second Army for the Tsar. You shared their excitement when all of you had found out that you were Grisha. Your twin sisters were prodigal Heartrenders like Tamar and Tolya, while your eldest brother was an Inferni and your younger brother was a Squaller. Everyone was suited for battle and talented - but not you.

You were just a plain Materialki - a Durast who was weak and could not bend swords or bullets quickly enough to save your life. And so, you were never ordered to Battle like your siblings since even the Darkling did not acknowledge your abilities.

One day, the Tsar ordered his princes to enter and cross the Fold for a diplomatic mission on west Ravka. Something happened when they were on their way back, and they had to kill as much Volcra as possible along with only a few of the Second Army Soldiers escorting them - with the Heartrenders being your own two sisters and ome of the squallers your younger brother. Almost none survived, with the exception of his princes, as it seemed.

You and your eldest brother grieved their death, and sent many personal letters to both the Darkling and the King, requesting for the return of the bodies of your fallen siblings. However, both of them rejected your requests, giving an excuse that their main priority was to search for the Second Prince - none other than Nikolai Lantsov, instead of bringing their bodies home.

You and your brother were devastated, and he was suddenly being called upon to fight at the Fjerdan borders. You had tried your best to make an armor for him, in which no bullet should be able to pass through - and it worked - only if it hadn't been for the Fjerdans to cut off his head when your brother was wounded.

Distressed, you crossed the the Fold from East to West Ravka by yourself with an invention you had so carelessly made, as an effort to hopefully let the Saints decide your fate in the abyss. And you could have died, if your wounded self wasn't discovered by Sturmhond.

You woke up silently with your eyes brimming in tears. Your siblings' lack of proper burial, Sturmhond's deceit, and your uselessness as a Durast was all too much for you. The very thought of being under the roof of the man which had both killed and saved your life was something your heart could not handle anymore.

You had to leave.

Its not like anyone would realise nor dread your absence.

Wiping the silent and hot tears pouring out of your eyes, you began to pack some clean clothes into your knapsack, a pair of daggers, a map of Ravka, money, food and water. There wasn't much to pack anyway. You put on a cloak and blew out your candle before you opened your door.

"Captain-!" You exclaimed as the blonde and blue-eyed man which had been by your side for years suddenly showed up in front of you with his hands up, and hand balled into a fist, as if he wanted to knock on your door.

"Y/n, you're awake!" He gasped and pulled a cheesy smile. "I guess you've been around me for too long until you could sense me from far away, then?" He chuckled. Slowly observing his formal attire, it was obvious that he had just finished his meeting.

"You're incredibly loud with everything you do, that's how I know," You pursed your lips and forced a smile.

He nodded and began to peek around your pitch black room, past your shoulders. "Your quarters are very dark now, aren't they?" He commented.

"I was sleeping, Capta-I mean, uhm, moi Tsarevich," and you kept a distance away from him as you recalled that the man before you was ranks higher above yours.

"You were asleep with your travelling cloak?" He raised a playful brow.

"You shouldn't be here. Just go to sleep, my prince. You look tired after the meeting,".

"About that," the prince pushed your arm which was blocking the way into your room and lit a match. He searched for your candle for a second and lit it up. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened... earlier," he muttered and his bright eyes searched your room.

"There's nothing to talk about-,".

"Saints, why did they give you such an empty room? There's barely anything in here!" He jumped and began going through your old cupboard. You sighed and closed your eyes, not knowing how to properly deal with the man.

"My prince, you're no longer Sturmhond. Its improper for you to act in this manner. I beg of you, please remove yourself from my quarters," your heart was beginning to ache, but he was seemingly avoiding your words as he continued rambling around.

"The only thing here as stuffed as the king is your-," and his eyes paused at your knapsack. "Why is it packed, y/n? Where are you going?".

"Its none of your concern, my prince," You could not brave yourself to look into his eyes.

"Saints, just call me Nikolai, y/n,".

"How can I just call you Nikolai Lantsov when you've been my Captain and Sturmhond to me?" You snapped as irritation overwhelmed you.

"You don't understand, Nikolai - you're a prince. I'm just a deserter of the Second Army and we're not equals anymore,".

"Come on, you know that I don't think of you that way-,".

"Either way, you can't stop me from leaving," your voice trembled.

Nikolai suddenly crossed his arms and he passed a stern glare at you, a look you had rarely seen him equip himself with. In that moment, you realised that he truly was a Prince - not just any foolish prince like his brother, but a man of command, a man who you could have followed anywhere, even to the edge of the world - if it hadn't been for yourself.

"You can't leave. I forbid you," he stated with his sudden cold blue eyes fixed upon you.

"You have no right to give orders to me," You took a few steps toward him, almost challenging his command.

"You can't leave," Nikolai breathed, voice softening as he slowly closed the distance between the two of you.

"I have no place here - by your side, as a soldier in this war you've involved yourself with. I'm a lesser Durast compared to the ones you've got here-,".

"No one's ever said that to you," Nikolai's hand reached your arm, almost grasping it to not let you go.

"No one needed to say it. I couldn't save my brother because of it. What makes you think that I could save you when you need my help?" your face went hot as you realised how close the both of you were to each other. That panicked heartbeat of yours thundered against your chest and you were worried if he could hear it.

"We made our ship together, y/n. You helped me with my inventions, made it ours and saved me, countless of times during our raids-," he pulled a bittersweet smile as he recalled his days together with you as a privateer.

"Nikolai," your hand instinctively reached his cheek, and he leaned into your touch - blue eyes glowing with a desperate blaze. "Those days are now over. You're a Ravkan Prince and you must let go of things that do not matter anymore - like me,".

He took in a sharp breath and refused to look into your eyes for the first time.

It was true that you had to leave him because there was no chance that the both of you could live peacefully together, sailing away with hopes of building a family together - free from any danger. That was your dream, and not his. Nikolai had always been ambitious, despite his foolhardy efforts to make him appear the opposite.

When he remained silent, you passed by his shoulder and grabbed your knapsack. You crossed your room and to your door, before hesistating to reach for the doorknob. Turning back to him one last time, you stretched a soft and genuine smile of fond farewell to Nikolai.

"Farewell, moi Sobachka. If the Saints would allow it, we'll meet again," you muttered and closed the door behind you as you left.

Nikolai stared at the still door, breathless and heart aching. His heart was heavy, but he understood why you had to leave. With his final breath within your presence, he breathed:

"I love you,".

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Qrow: ... It Weren't your fault y'know.

Ruby: *Sigh*

Qrow: Why, Half the Crew would be spinning in the black abyss if not for-

Ruby: Look! Don't you get it! I screwed up! For two seconds, I thought that MAYBE I could do something right, but- DAGH! I just- *Sigh*

Ruby: Just Forget, Just- Forget it.

Qrow: ... *Grabbing her shoulder* Now, You listen to me Ruby Rose, You've got the Makings of greatness in you! But you've gotta take the Helm and Chart your own Course! Stick to it, no matter the squalls! And when the Time comes you get the chance to really test the cut of your sails, and show what's your made of, well, I hope I'm there, catchin' some of the light coming off you that day.

Ruby: *Sniffles, Hugs Qrow*

Qrow: ... *Slowly putting arms around Ruby* There there, It's alright Rubes. Now, Uh *Letting Ruby go* I'd best be getting back on my watch, and you'd best be getting some shut eye.

Ruby: *Begins walking away*

Qrow: ... Getting in too deep here, hey Morphy? Soon they'll be saying I've gone soft.

[dreamseersystem]

Just a little drabble I made of a version of Leviathantale. I hope people like it.

Was this what it was like to die?

That was his thought as he sank into the dark waters below. The family he thought he had, they were all just lies. Used until he was no use anymore because of who he once was. Who he had left behind on the mainland when he joined Gaster and his crew of pirates. But that was what he was used for. A bargaining chip in some ploy to gain money and favors out of the family he abandoned. He never told anyone of his royal heritage, but somehow the captain knew. He acted like a caring father to him, and when the money and favors dried out...

It was amazing how fast a life can pass before one's eyes as they die. The betrayal of the captain as he revealed his birth name and the reason he was kept on the ship. The jeering of the crew he once thought of as brothers and sisters calling for his death. It was a crime to them to be born royal. Even if he rejected that life. Gaster himself pushed him off the plank, giving him a last chance to fight him, but he was too weak to defeat the captain. His magic was spilling out of him still, quickening his death in the sea. He could feel its cold tentacles wrap around him. Wait... No... He was really feeling tentacles around him. His instinct to fight made him flail in their grasp, but he was too weak to fight back.

"I would rather you not fight little minnow. It would quicken your death and make you just another dust cloud to feast upon by the small fish of the deep," a voice said. He froze.

"That's better," the voice said as a black face came into his sight. It's teal eye glowing in the darkness. "I am Nightmare. Tho, I guess greetings would be wasted if you just die on me." He pulls him close. "But you can live if your desire and hope is still there."

He wanted to live. He didn't want to die. His life had barely started and all because of his birth he was killed for. He wanted to live to be free of that past. He wanted to get revenge on the ship he thought was family.

Nightmare could seem to sense his will and emotions and chuckled. "Revenge and a desire to be free. I believe I can offer that," he said as he caressed his cheek. "But in exchange for a new life, I need something in return. Loyalty, obedience, and most of all, your knowledge of the world above. Do you agree or would you rather I end your life now?"

He wanted to say yes, but no words would come out. He didn't care he would have to be this abyssal's being slave. Just as long as he could live again. He just wanted to live. He nodded his head at Nightmare.

And Nightmare grinned. "It is a deal then. This might hurt a bit."

He reached into his chest and pulled his dusting SOUL out, sending magic into it as he kissed him at the same time. Pleasure and pain were what he felt and he couldn't even scream. Bones were shifting, everything was getting brighter, teal and purple magic surrounded his body as he heard bones crack below his waist.

Soon the feeling faded away, and with that the feeling of his legs. Now he felt something else, something new. A tail. He gasped as he took his first breath under water, not sure how exactly he was able to do it. He looked at himself in wonder. And ended up upside down since he didn't know how to use his tail yet.

Nightmare laughed. "Well, a shark on its belly, what a funny sight. You'll fit in with the rest of the shiver at least. But for now, we should complete our greetings shouldn't we. What is your name?"

He was able to right himself and felt his tail. It was powerful and strong. He could feel the power in it. He looked at Nightmare and bowed his head.

"My name, is Cross."