#Seafarer's Dream | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vampiricgf · 5 days

Text

WATER SONG [PT. 1]

merman leon x gov't researcher reader

word count : 7k+

warnings : female reader, reader has a sort of type A personality and some mild anger issues, talk of medical experiments, he's referred to as a subject and specimen quite a lot, descriptions of predatory behavior (animal kind, not the sexual kind), slow pace, sfw, lots of yearning for touch

okay part one isn't terribly exciting im sorry ajdgakab I just wanted to establish a connection between the reader and him in the setting n such before developing any deeper connection. also like 1% research went into this so im sorry if you're knowledgeable about oceanic research this'll probably piss you off lmao. also all credit for this au idea goes to @/bunnivievve tysm for letting me write a lil interpretation of your idea! this was inspired by this post of theirs as well ‹𝟹

JUNE

Subject Zero.

Male, combined characteristics of humanoids and aquatic species. Captured by a trawling vessel, out in deep waters usually traversed by cargo freighters but occasionally by commercial fishing vessels. A freak happenstance. When the net had been dredged up in a fantastic spray of salt water, the hoard of tuna quickly spilling into the sorting containers, the men on deck had spotted something much larger than white fin tuna thrashing in the net.

Upon careful inspection they feared they’d pulled up a man, some poor unfortunate victim of a seafaring disaster. A capsized or otherwise destroyed vessel, a near drowning victim that had fallen overboard perhaps.

Until they spotted the flashing of sharp teeth, and the thick, muscled tail slamming against the wet metal under their feet.

Thankfully their transmission to the Coast Guard was intercepted, a naval craft catching the broadcast and setting course as fast as possible for the trawler.

And now Subject Zero finds respite in your “office”. If an office can be counted as more of an observation space, nevertheless. A part of you feels bad, the less scientifically trained and inclined part that is, for keeping such a clearly intelligent creature within a tank inside a black site. The initial placement had been… difficult. It was clear the subject missed the open ocean, and you did feel sorry that it had been so unceremoniously plucked from its home and deposited in such an alien space on land. But there was nothing to be done about it.

He was far too valuable as a research opportunity. The cold, clinical part of your mind understood that. He was a marvel of nature, flesh and blood proof that man could be intermixed with seafaring species, it was one of the single greatest events in modern marine biology. And an immense privilege for you, the scientist chosen chiefly to study the subject.

A dream. The government all but telling you to do whatever you deemed necessary, no concern over the expense. Gone were worries of securing grant funding for more piddling projects or the endless anxiety of thinking you would be stuck as one name in an endless list of names relegated to ordinary oceanic study. Not that your peers' works weren’t valuable, but you always held the selfish desire for notoriety. Had dreamed endlessly throughout your undergraduate program of the day your name would be the one filling up library indexes and publications with impressive, weighty studies. Discoveries so undeniable you would join the ranks of the most noteworthy in the field.

And seemingly, your wish had been granted. Subject zero would be the gravel that paved your road to success. It’s just a pity it has to be such an intelligent creature.

You sit back, uncuring from your hunched position at the desk, rolling your shoulders and wincing as you hear your joints popping. Documentation was a never ending pain in the ass but it had to be done, if you wanted to keep the convenience of not having to answer to nor justify your expenses to an overhead department. Ordinarily that work would be relegated to a lower priority researcher, but you preferred being able to sign off on it all yourself, comforted by the fact that there were no unforeseen surprises lurking in the documents or spreadsheets or data tables. Nothing anyone would be about to point out as a discrepancy, leaving you humiliated and floundering.

As you close your eyes you can feel it, the hair on the back of your neck slightly on edge. The feeling of being observed.

He seemed to prefer watching you when your back was turned or if you were otherwise unaware. If you were facing the ten foot thick glass of the massive elcousure he would recede into the farthest corners of it, shying away into watery obscurity. In a way it was cute, an obvious curiosity for the beings around him but he seemed stricken by shyness, didn’t know if you were trustworthy. Which was understandable. You were the one keeping him there, at least to his limited viewpoint. The one that denied him reentry into his former home.

That irritatiningly scentimental part of your mind whispered to you again.

What if he thinks you’re cruel?

So what? We don’t even know to what extend he does think.

You say that but you do care, at least a little. Thats why you sneak him extra food.

You sigh to yourself, pushing up from the familiar desk, palms flat on its slick glass surface before rising to your full height. Out of the corner of your eye you catch the white coat you don most of the day, every day, slung carelessly over the back of another chair at a separate station. Your badge attached via a shiny, silvery little clip. Walking over you purposefully keep your eyes directed away from the elcousure, your movements slow. This is a good opportunity to see how long he’ll watch you as long as he believes you aren’t paying attention.

The badge is solid, though lightweight as you pick it up, bringing it closer to your face. It’s hard to believe you look so excited in the small picture in the upper lefthand corner. Your name in bold typeface as last name, first name all neatly lined up next to the photo. In it’s reflection you can see him, one hand perched against the glass, that thick midnight blue tail swishing up and down in a soft, rhythmic motion as he stays still. Ever watchful.

Its hard to see in the little reflective glimpse but subject zero does have more… handsome features. You smile to yourself, recalling one of the other researchers giggling while telling you it wasn’t weird to note that because it was true. What man on land, with two legs, had eyes that shade of blue or a jawline that impressive? None that aren’t using photoshop or filters.

Maybe if the discovery of the subject was publicized there would be throngs of people banging on doors trying to find out where he’s being kept. It did make you huff out a laugh, the idea that a half fish man who couldn’t speak was more appealing than the majority of men on earth.

Maybe we should open an instagram page for him.

You shake your head to yourself, still smiling, as you set the badge down.

The office slash observation room remained quiet save for the occasional sound of sloshing water. It was late, well past time fo anyone other than the usual armed military guard to be roaming the facility. Well past time for you to go home.

At that moment you turn, just enough to peek over your shoulder and as soon as your eyes fix on the spot he occupied all you catch is a low flash of dark blue, retreating into the shadowy depths encased in glass.

OCTOBER

Three months of observation.

Hardly enough to form any evidence based conclusions, but enough time to get started on the right path. You had approximately nintey days of solid data on his diet, his presenting condition each day, endless notes on his observable physiology. He preferred deep water fish, clearly an omnivore as he also didn’t mind the addition of oceanic plant species mixed with the fish when it was introduced into the tank. In fact he seemed to greatly enjoy the sudden introduction of variety, although still preferred to eat his meals in a semblance of solitude.

His distrust was only natural, you had to remind yourself. Until such time as he’s fully used to his new environment you’re unlikely to observe any great variation in his behavior.

At least he wasn’t showing signs of aggression. That had been a legitimate concern, and still was, of course. All proper safety precautions were followed to the letter when it came to subject zero, and absolutely no one was to physically get in the tank, not until further tests could be done on his temperament and how he reacted to certain stimuli both pleasant and unplseant.

You grimace seeing a newly sent email notification, the little computerized ding signalling that your attention was required.

When isn’t it?

You put the sleek desktop into split screen mode, keeping the charts on the subject to the left while your email opened to occupy the right side. Amid the usual low importance emails from general staff there was a new one, at the very top. The name made your stomach twist in preparation of the message. Dr. Gregg had, for lack of a better phrase, a raging hard on for the opportunity to remove the subject from the tank and getting it into a smaller one in order to sedate and extract genetic material. It didn’t matter that he’d already been sedated and had samples drawn when he was initially transported here, no. The good doctor wanted more than that, but you couldn’t accommodate the request in good conscience.

Or rather, you were worried about the effect it would have on him. It could set back the last nintey days of progress, or worse, inspire severe mistrust and heightened aggression towards all researchers. There was no way, even with sedation, that cutting into him wouldn’t cause pain. And a source of pain that a creature like subject zero had no way of understanding would only lead to problems.

The two of you had been butting heads over the issue for the last week, culminating in an argument yesterday where you all but told him to get fucked. You were the lead on this, you made the decisions and he wasn’t going to usurp your authority. Your credit.

But as your eyes scan the email you can feel yourself getting physically hot, your blood pressure threatening to rise.

You may be the lead, the head researcher on this project, but do not believe for one moment that I will not go above your head. You are not CIA, doctor. You don’t call the final shots here, and it would do you well to remember that. Whatever your personal feelings on subject zero, you cannot stand in the way of necessary elements that better out understanding of the creature.

With shaking fingers you close the window, not bothering to respond and not trusting yourself to either. Every fiber of your being wanted nothing more than to march down that hallway and wring his wiry old turkey neck. Who does he think he is? He’s just some physiologist, some ancient fuck. Who is he to threaten you? If his contributions were so invaluable wouldn’t he have been made lead?

You squeeze your eyes shut, hands clenching in your lap as you breathed deeply in through your mouth and out through your nose. The meditation app you’d been using had provided you with some useful tools, being that your temper had plagued you since you were small. Always the first to fly off the handle at even the idea you could be questioned, your competence or credibility casted in doubt.

Inferiority complex, a nasty voice giggled in your head.

It’s not that it wasn’t true, and it was a bit of an achilles heel for you. But what took priority now was holding Gregg back, keeping him away from the subject and minimizing the risk that he could fuck it all up before you even had a chance to really begin. So, once you felt that initial flashpoint of rage quelling you reopened the email application, setting your shoulders back as you began typing.

Under no circumstances are you permitted to sedate nor perform any surgical procedures on subject zero. You have not been given any formal authorizations, so it would do you well to remember not to threaten your head researcher in the contents of easily retrievable emails. You are free to broach the topic with any superior officer on sight, and I am more than happy to entertain a line of questioning from said superior officers on why I do not believe it to be prudent at this juncture to allow for another extraction of material. Research is not a race, Doctor.

You can’t help but smile smugly to yourself, imagining his fury at opening your reply. If he thinks just because you’re young that you’re easily pushed around he is sorely mistaken. Nothing and no one is allowed to jeopardize the most important work you may ever do.

With that you abandon the desk, it’s dull and mind numbing work, in favor of standing in front of the tank yet again. It was nice, having a portion of it extending into this area as an offshoot of the main tank where all the feeding and the bulk of physical testing was done. He seemed to enjoy it too, which despite yourself you did place some importance on.

It was important to ensure he was as comfortable as possible. He was still a living being, despite his status as a research subject, and you took no pleasure in the idea of him suffering in any way. It was definitely a slight drawback, you could begrudgingly admit, that you tended to get… overly attached to the species in your care. You’d done the same in both undergrad and postdoc, although it was more important than ever before to keep a tight hold on those tendencies now.

How would you feel, if you knew that man was so hell bent on slicing you open?

Probably afraid.

What are you feeling now?

It would be so much easier if he were capable of speech. The bridges that had to be built between what was known and unknown had to come from the very foundations, things that required occasionally unpleasant experiences in order to build their understanding of him. But if he could just explain some of it, that would be easier. A half formed bridge is faster to finish than one from scratch.

Uselessly you peered into the clear, clean water. Between swaying stalks of plants there was nothing to see except the seemingly endless expanse of water. Several mind boggling tonnes of it, all kept nicely contained in ten foot thick military grade glass. Bulletproof. Shatter proof. Even if subject zero were to ram it with intent, crack it even, it would still hold.

You couldn’t help but wonder, as you remained staring through that glass, if he was lonely. Seeing so many strange, upright walkers but being unable to even touch them, even consider the act of doing it.

As you frown at your own reflection, you feel it again.

Duel observation.

It was bizarre, to him. These two legs, tall men. He knew they existed, they’d always known a different sort of being lived on the land, domineered it and then took to making attempts at dominating the sea as well. It had all become so noisy, so very nearly unbearable thanks to their hulking monstrosities of shining metal and the things they constantly kept dumping into the water.

Every day there were new threats to avoid. Long gone were the days of simply worrying about other predators lurking in the open waters or within the sediment and foliage.

He hadn’t seen the net, as they called it, until it was too late. Had been too caught in the euphoria of finding such a gigantic school of gorgeous, meaty tuna, that his mind switched off to everything but pure instinct as he’d circled them quickly, calculatedly. His jaw had felt the ache of hunger so viscerally it was like the bones themselves were vibrating with it.

And then they’d all begun moving. Swept up, trapped in an upward drag that he’d been powerless to fight against while overwhelmed by the wriggling, frantic fish flashing across his vision, no way to know what was forwards or backwards, up or down.

Then the shock of air. His lungs had seized up painfully with it, the feeling of being constricted by nothing at all yet everything all at once had been horrific, beyond frightening.

After that it was too messy, too jumbled in his mind. Harsh sounds, their sounds, were prevalent in his memory but just beyond his grasp. Far too loud without the water to act as a buffer between, softening the blows of each reverberation against his eardrums.

But her sounds were different. Or, it was that she didn’t make many to begin with. The look of them all was mostly similar from behind the thick material they kept him in, in this unknown space. At least they offered readily available food, although not nearly what he was used to hunting for himself and his webbed fingers itched at the thought of clawing through water in pursuit of some darting piece of prey. It would feel so, so good to sink his teeth into flesh, to feel it rip and catch in chunks between his teeth, the iron rich scent of blood swirling around. The roar of adrenaline in his ears.

It was difficult to keep his focus on much here, save for her. The best parts were when the others disappeared but she would still be in that corner, down the long corridor of water and he would be able to see her, sitting and doing wholly alien things with her hands at something large and flat, but vaguely shiny. Hers didn’t have webbing, none of them did from what he could tell. How did they ever swim competently?

She was softer than the rest and he enjoyed watching her do her strange tasks, sometimes she would pace around holding a sheet of paper in her hands, chewing on her bottom lip. Her teeth didn’t seem all that sharp, since she never seemed worried about cutting her flesh on them. What did they eat, with useless teeth?

Just like at the present moment, with her back turned it was easier to look at her fully. Usually he wouldn’t approach openly like this, unsure of the intentions of everyone here, but this space seemed to be reserved for her only which put him at ease. That and none of those harsh spotlights were present, if anything she seemed to prefer it half dark which was fine by him, preferable to that loud bright area behind him back through the water corridor. But she seemed tense, the set of her shoulders curled forward, almost in on herself. Something in front of her was clearly upsetting and in some odd way he felt offense on her behalf. She was kind, gave him extra food before she would disappear through the night, always seemed to be keeping a close watch over him and how the others were with him.

He may not be able to speak, but he’s pretty sure she was the reason he wasn’t suffering in this place. And that was good enough, at present, to make him feel a sense of kinship with her. Closeness.

As she carried on with whatever it was that kept her so occupied his mind wandered to what it would feel like to touch her. They seem to enjoy touch, most of them being very casual with the way they interacted. How did she like being touched? Or would she dislike being touched by him outright? Would she find his webbed, clawed fingers disgusting, would she flinch away?

He frowned behind the glass. Hopefully not, but there really was no way to know. They seem intent on keeping a wide distance from him, which wasn’t unwelcome. The only one he was at all curious about was her anyway, not that he would purposely antagonize anyone who ventured inside his new domain, though he certainly wouldn’t circle them like one of the friendly, if a little dumb, nurse sharks do occasionally out in open water.

He was so caught up in that worry he nearly failed to catch her movement, but his reflexes are faster than hers. Before she could approach the glass fully he’d already retreated a safe distance away. Watching as she stared into the expanse of water, her face unreadable but the set of her eyebrows told him she felt some kind of stress, strain.

His fingers twitched at his sides, thinking about reaching out to touch her again.

You smile to yourself, a soft hidden kind, at the now familiar feeling. It was like there was a strange sense of understanding between you two, although you could just be ascribing things to him he doesn’t possess. Thats always something to keep in mind, as a researcher but more often than not lately you’re coming to resent that line of thought. It was clear subject zero was intelligent. Maybe not to the degree of a human being, but he was close enough evolutionarily speaking, that he was like a cousin in the chain. An offshoot of the formerly solidly established line of human life. Theres no reason, as yet identified, that he wouldn’t be able to communicate if given the chance to learn how.

You aren’t thinking of him as a subject anymore. That’s dangerous.

You know it is, know that voice is right. But it doesn’t account for everything. The odd push and pull, hide and seek game you two play here in this office every single evening. Its to the point now that you feel tense, uncomfortable if you don’t sense him behind you, watching you work or pace around nonsensically. You’ve spent over an hour before reading and rereading the same observational notes and data sets because you kept grinning to yourself like a fool feeling those eyes burning holes in your back.

He’d even made appearances in your dreams a handful of times over the last month, flashes of deep, endless blue that clung to the soft corners of your mind as you went about your morning routines, ruminating over his appearance as steam from your coffee curled around your hands, ghostly fingers clawing at the air. Tension crept up your beck, spreading out over the tops of your shoulders and trapezius muscles prompting you to stretch against the back of your office chair, rolling your joints and hearing their familiar cracking in response to hours of sustained poor posture. Lazily you grasp your phone from the desk, thumbing open the music app and scrolling a bit through your shuffle playlist before settling on something bubbly, but easily tuned into the background.

You wonder if he enjoys music, what his preferences would be if he could swipe through your library of songs. It makes you smile to yourself thinking about it, maybe that would make for a good test of his thinking abilities, how he responds to different genres, different artists. Standing, you bend slightly to make a quick note on a half discarded sticky tab: musical testing?

And suddenly a somewhat mad thought grips you, what if you tried right now? Whats the worst that could happen, he lurks in the background while you sway around the dim office like a fool? At least the only people who could see would be the guards, not that they’d say anything either beyond thinking to themselves that every researcher here must be insane. That makes your smile grow wider, giggling to yourself a bit as you take slight steps in time with the beat, giving a little spin on your toes to face the take.

It only somewhat shocks you to find yourself face to face with him, that he hasn’t retreated to the safety of the shadowy corners. His eyes, a remarkably similar color to the water surrounding him, track your movements with abject curiosity as you follow an imaginary path, one foot placed delicately in front of the other to carry your body with the faint sound of the music. All the while his eyes never stray from you, even when he has to move to keep you in his sights, even when you come right up to the glass and offer a little spin in front of him, giggling to yourself a little more freely now.

And to your amazement, at your laughter, he smiles. He smiles and it makes your chest feel light, like a ten pound weight you hadn’t even been aware of was finally lifted off. Some might find his fanged appearance frightening, to you it was boyishly cute. A toothy little grin, the tips of his elongated enscisors catching against his bottom lip, and his thick, muscular tail began to move. As if, had he possessed legs like yours, they would be moving in tandem with you.

It felt like a genuine breakthrough, making you hug your arms around yourself as you stopped moving, still laughing and feeling just a tad bit lightheaded. He genuinely smiled at you.

He was moving with you.

That was a major breakthrough, even if just a personal one. Increased rapport meant things would be easier going forward, for both of you.

With a contented sigh you pressed one hand to the smooth, icy surface of the glass, your fingers stretching over the sleek glass and he does something that makes your breath freeze in your lungs. Gingerly, the way people stretch out their hands to scared animals, inch by inch his own rases to be a perfect mirror of your own. One larger, webbed, hand pressed to the glass right behind your own. It felt silly but you were too afraid to even exhale with any effort, for fear even the barest noise would ruin the moment and he would flee right back into the far corners, beyond your reach.

But he doesn’t, doesn’t stop holding your gaze for a single second and you marvel at the way his blonde hair sways in the water, like the finest strands of silk-

“So, thats why you keep refusing to allow any progress of this “research”?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the voice from behind you, a signature grating tone you could pick out anywhere. As your head snaps to the side, body following the movement only a second after, you see him standing in the door way with his arms crossed nearly reeking of smugness.

Fuck.

One week.

You have one week to figure out what to do.

After shattering your late night revelation with subject zero, who has been increasingly attached to you ever since, the resident pain in your ass physiologist had made sure to fire off emails riddled with concerns and accusations addressed to the operatives truly in charge of the site. Questions of your ability to continue in any capacity with the project, the nature of your relationship to the subject, insinuating you had some kind of perverse intention, even going so far as to insult your credibility. Not only cc-ing yourself but “mistakenly” sending those emails to every person working on site.

It had effectively turned you into a pariah with regards to your peers. Whispers of conversation that would be cut off as soon as you set foot into a room. Strange looks from your coworkers, ranging from disgust to perverse curiosity. It felt like you were continuously on fire, every minute of every day. There would be a meeting in one weeks time, and until then you were relegated to nothing but the paperwork in your office, per the tense instructions given to you.

But your panic had less to do with your professional reputation, surprisingly, and more to do with feeling very nearly physically sick when you recalled how fixated he was with the idea of getting to cut into subject zero. If you were removed completely from this project there would be no one else to act as a roadblock, to keep that from happening.

Your eyes slide over to the observation tank, noting the worried way he’s been watching you for hours now. You wished you could haul him out of there, explain what was happening, the risk of what could happen to him. Maybe he would have some idea of how you both could get out of this. But was there any way out? Or is the only option allowing yourself to become a laughingstock, a professional embarrassment and to allow subject zero to languish in whatever horror would surely be inflicted on him?

You can’t say if desperation is the only thing motivating you, but your mind becomes mostly blank as you leave the office. Its early enough, after you’d been practically climbing up the walls all night, so maybe the choice was fueled by sleep deprivation. Whatever the case may be, you find yourself moving as if through a dream: down the cavernous corridors, turning and twisting to follow the slate grey concrete all the way to the impossibly large main observation chamber.

With a swipe of your ID card, forcefully and defiantly, the locks give a little beep before disengaging. Mechanically you make your way to where the suits are stored. Specially designed, one of a kind. Made of an interwoven, enmeshed material not unlike chainmail to prevent sharp teeth from being able to puncture both cloth and flesh, and featuring only the best in terms of diving design. The manufacturer had created them after winning a defense contract from the governenment and you wonder if they ever would have guessed someone would be stripping and tugging the suit on in order to come face to face with something most people would assume only existed in a fairytale.

But here you are: yanking and adjusting the suit before prepping the oxygen tank, also designed to be compact but sacrificing the amount of time one could spend fully submerged at any depth. Either way it would work for this application, although no one had been given clearance to dive yet.

You knew doing this would come back to bite you far worse than just those vendetta fueled emails. Diving without any clearance, using untested equipment. It was beyond insane. But the circumstances felt insane enough on their own to justify it. Subject zero was overwhelmingly likely to be just as intelligent as you were, and just as likely to feel physical and mental distress in similar ways. Trying to communicate was step one and what better way than face to face. Then you could form step two: proving beyond a reasonable doubt that he was intelligent and thus, could be advocated for medically even if he couldn’t advocate for himself.

That was the only way to halt the now speeding train of decisions being made on his behalf and without his input. If he could even write out the most barebones statement, even that would work to prove they needed consent to continue with any of this. Tomorrow you could wake up in a whole new world, one where there is technically a second legal classification of human being, one with a tail and gills. The though made you smile despite the tense circumstances.

What you were doing was a halfcocked, absolutely batshit attempt at a hail mary but it was worth a shot. Your reputation was already in tatters on site, how much worse could it be? If you fail in this all that happens is you’re dismissed and removed from the site, doomed to be a whispered footnote for future researchers. Did you ever hear about the lady that went crazy with one of the subjects? A cautionary tale about getting too attached to your work.

But fuck that. If you’re not at least a little attached to your work then do you even really care at all about any of it? You would argue that the resident physiologist holds no love for the work, only a love for the idea of something else experiencing pain.

With a deep breath you sit carefully on the steel ledge that runs the length of the tanks open ceiling. Easy, you just flip backwards and hit the water, reorient yourself and try not to get eaten by one potentially pissed off subject. Yeah, a real piece of cake. With that you decide theres no more time to waste, it’s probably already flagged in the system that you accessed the main deck, they’ll be here any minute.

Good, that means they can all see I’m not insane or inappropriate. He can comprehend things just like we can, the music wasn’t a fluke.

In the span of a second your worldview dips, swirls, and the splash of water hits your ears at the exact same moment the shock of cold does. The water is kept at approximately the same temperature as the water he was captured in, frigid Atlantic delights. As bubbles envelop you, you manage to get yourself turned right side up, carefully circling your arms to tred water and remain mostly stationary. This would be the key moment, you have to exercise extreme caution.

You’re another predator that has invaded the territory of a fellow predator. In the natural world, it’s a killable offense. But you keep your eyes open, sweeping the dimly lit, wide expanse of saltwater around you. No sign of him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here, watching you, gauging the situation. As you continue to keep your breathing even, your movements slow enough but steady enough to keep your body afloat, you catch sight of something in your peripheral. That intimately familiar midnight blue tail. He was moving behind you now, one webbed, clawed hand slicing through the water like knives as the rest of him came into your view. That sandy, dishwater blonde hair floating in fine tendrils around his face, framing piercing blue eyes that took you in critically, curiously.

You allow him to keep circling you, doing your best to calm your nervous system that felt on high alert, panic just on the cusp of overriding your sensibilities. Allowing that would spell disaster, you would certanly be killed if you started thrashing or spinning wildly, it would scare him, you could both be injured in any kind of violent altercation. They would kill him if he killed you.

But your worries abate as he slows to a stop in front of you, and despite your eyes staying locked together you’re conscious of the audience you have on the other side of the glass. The feeling of being watched by many people is something quite unique, it’s also unnerving. You wish you could apologize to him, you hadn’t realized before how uncomfortable literally living beneath a microscope was.

You raise your arm, hand extended, in a painfully slow movement that makes the muscles in your forearm ache. His attention goes to the appendage now how hanging between you two, eyeing it with equal parts suspicion and what seems to be excitement. The physical equivalent of a high pitched alarm happens in your body as he moves closer to you, the air suddenly locked in your lungs as you wait. This was another critical moment. Would he grasp your hand? Rip it off? It was entirely unknown, beyond dangerous.

But none of those things happen. The painting, god touching adam, comes to mind as he raises a clawed index finger delicately up to yours. They don’t touch but rather hover in proximity to one another before a grin works its way across his face, those sharp incisors catching against his bottom lip as his eyes flick back to your goggled face.

You hope he can see that you’re smiling too, but you hope its not like it is with monkeys where grins are signs of aggression. But it seems that fear is unwarranted as his tail twitches erratically, the wispy bits of filigree flesh on the split end swirling through the water in a gorgeous display of deep blue and white. Like sheer fabric winding through the air.

The ecstasy that floods your brain is a feeling like no other, a full body sensation that spreads from the tips of your fingers to your fabric covered toes. His tail moves to brush against your kicking legs, the heft of it is shocking. You can immediately imagine the sheer power of it kocking into you, it would feel like being hit by a freight train no doubt. For something that looked so elegant and otherworldly, it was still a threat.

But you couldn’t get distracted you needed some display of his intelligence, and you needed it now.

So you shake off the awe, do your best to refocus on his face. Carefully you draw back your hand, pointing to yourself and then at him. You repeat the gesture several times, hoping to receive a reaction that displays understanding.

And he doesn’t keep you waiting long.

In a flash one clawed, webbed hand encircles your wrist and halts your movement.

It’s like time suspends, a complete and total pause as you feel a different kind of chill within the suit. It’s like you’re watching in third person, your throat seizing as your fingers intertwine hesitantly. It’s an oddly tender gesture, and then your body is tugged through the weight of the water, pushed against the solidness of his chest. Your arms came gingerly around him, and his enveloped you in turn. He was all firmness, so solidly built it shocked you. You hadn’t properly appreciated the sheer mass of him, the way his body had been crafted for underwater pursuit, hunting. But also to accommodate displays of affection, just like your own.

And as you two embrace you can’t help but smile again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to form one hell of an argument on his behalf and you would shout until your face was blue that going forward, communication would take priority. Worrying about the innerworkings of his physiology could wait until later.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil x reader #merleon au #leon kennedy imagine

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revasserium · 7 months

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hiii, can I still request a drabble? if yes, I want to ask for prompt 1, vocabulary list: stay with rafayel. bcs I think this boy is definitely a tsundere, will do and say literally anything but the truth that he wants you to stay with him. clingy rafayel is just so cute! thank you, I love your writings by the way ✨

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

24. vocabulary list: stay

rafayel; 2,073 words; fluff, fem!reader, pining, slight!spoilers, no "y/n", teeth rotting fluff

summary: 5 times rafayel asks you to stay + 1 time you do instead

a/n: it's just cuteness u__u

001.

“Stay.”

You are both children, and the summer sea is lapping at your feet. Sand squeezes between your toes and shells glitter like diamonds scattered across your stretch of secret beach. Rafayel’s pinky is hooked through yours. You laugh a laugh that sounds like heartbreak, even though Rafayel is too young to know what heartbreak means —

He wonders, later, if creatures of the sea are both with heartbreak in their bones — because what is heartbreak if not the sea? With the way it sings to an endless sky, the way it cups the world in its palm, the way it loves so helplessly — the beach, the seafarers, the rain — only for its loves to sink into its depths and never rise again.

“I can’t — you know I can’t!” you’re still laughing, digging your toes into the sand, as if this were all just a game.

Rafayel huffs, “I don’t! I don’t know!” and he knows he’s being petulant, being childish. But he figures he still is a child, by the measure of the sea, so he should be allowed at least this.

“I’ll be back tomorrow!” you say, you promise, so carelessly, as humans are wont to do.

Rafayel bites his lips, and a part of him knows that you won’t be. Still, he forces a smile, a sigh, and nods.

“Okay then… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

002.

“Stay…” he’s drunk. He can taste it in the weight of the humid air on his tongue. It’s late — the summer moon hanging huge and turgid on the horizon. Even the tide is lazy as it sloshes against the long stretch of shore just outside his window, weighed down by the summertime dreams of long lost loves, the shrapnel bits of broken promises.

You sigh as you look down at him, your eyes bright in the dim lighting of his giant studio.

“I really should be getting back…” you glance at the large clock on the wall, but your eyes flicker back towards him and Rafayel seizes on the chance, pushing himself up and tugging at your sleeve.

“You told me you’d come back and now… you’re leaving again…” he knows he sounds like a petulant child but he feels like a petulant child, the half-bottle of champagne dulling his senses and muffling his usually razor sharp wit.

“I —” a frown creases your forehead as you crouch down beside him, looking over his face, “I said I’d… come back?”

Rafayel sighs again, letting his eyes fall shut, “You don’t even remember…”

He feels the cool of your palm against his cheek and fights down the urge to moan and lean in closer, to press you to him.

“You must really be drunk, huh…” your voice is soft and helpless, but he can hear the hint of your resigned laughter. A moment later, he feels the couch dip as you sit back down, tugging his head into your lap as you run an absent hand through his disheveled hair.

He shakes his head, “Not drunk…”

“Shh… just sleep, okay?” you murmur, pressing your hand to his forehead and smoothing out the tiny frown threatening to crease his brows.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” he asks, even though he doesn’t really want to know the answer.

Your laughter is soft, and maybe even a little sad as you caress his cheek.

“Maybe.”

003.

“Stay… still.” Rafayel has both your wrists pinned above your head, his eyes narrowed as he looks down at you. You tug at this grip, cheeks flushed as you glare up at him.

“Stop! It’s fine —!”

“It is not fine,” he bites out as he reaches down to tug up your shirt. You squirm beneath him, your skin burning hot as his eyes skate down the length of your torso to catch on your lower abdomen, where you can feel the wound you’d gotten during your latest mission splitting open, oozing a steady stream of warm blood onto your freshly laundered sheets.

“This — you —” his eyes are wide as he looks up at you before his gaze is drawn back down. A look of horror seeps into his face as he lets go of your wrists.

“I’m — it’s okay — I’m okay…” you say, wincing as you push yourself into a half-sitting position, him still half-hovering over you with an expression caught between anger, terror, and confusion. You sigh, looking down at the large, rather ungainly gash on your lower abdomen.

It’d hurt like hell, sure, but now, it’s mostly faded to a dull throbbing and the occasional zing of pain that shoots up your spine. Vaguely, you wonder how many stitches it’ll have to be this time.

“Y-you’re…” Rafayel sounds distraught, and even though he glares at you again, you can hear the tremor in his voice.

“I just need some sleep… and tomorrow, I’ll go get it checked out.”

Rafayel slumps sideways onto the bed next to you, an arm thrown over his eyes.

“I’ll come with you.”

“If you want,” you lay back against your pillow, shifting gingerly so as not to agitate the wound even more.

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

“Yeah, in the bathroom — but —”

You can only sigh as Rafayel makes his way to the bathroom and comes back a moment later with the first aid kit and a determined frown.

“Now really — stay still.

004.

“Stay close…” Rafayel’s voice is sweet and warm by your ear.

You bite down a rack of shivers a second before he pulls away, laughing at something someone is saying. The bright lights of the exhibition are a bit overwhelming but you’d promised to show up, and so you had.

The dress you’re wearing is a bit tight, but you hitch a smile to your face as a wealthy art collector smarms at Rafayel, waxing poetic about canvases and colors and the sea. You watch with a muted amusement as Rafayel charms the man into a purchase, and then, as soon as he’s got the signed check, sends the babbling socialite on his way before turning back towards you with a soft shudder.

“I think that’s enough networking for one night.”

You blink, blustering as he tugs you off to one side, grabbing two more glasses of champagne as he goes.

“Wh — but — what about the other buyers?”

Rafayel rolls his eyes, “I really only need to make one or two big sales a year, and then the rest —” he flaps his wrist with a painful, marked nonchalance, “that’s all just for clout, anyway.”

You heave a deep sigh, swallowing down a laugh as Rafayel sips at his drink.

“Shouldn’t you at least try to appease some of the other attendees?” you ask, looking around at the various glitterati of Linkon society.

“Nope!” Rafayel sounds too pleased as he grins at you, reaching out to clink his glass against yours, “I don’t really care what most of them think, anyway.”

“Most? So… you do care what some of them think?” you probe, curious now as to who’s opinion Rafayel might put above his own.

Instead, he leans in, pressing in so close that you feel his hot breath against the lobe of your ear, feel the weight of his words ricocheting down your spine —

“No… just the one.” He pulls back and your heart stutters in your chest.

“And… who might that be?” you ask, your voice breathy and thready and just a tiny bit jealous.

Rafayel’s smirk pulls wide, “Oh… a certain Hunter with a mean streak and a weird obsession with claw-machine plushies.

005.

“Stay with me… please…” his voice is hoarse with want, his pupils blown so wide they almost swallow the midnight magic of his eyes.

“Rafayel, you’re burning up!” you press your palm to his forehead and frown, your other hand wrapped around his wrist, his pulse fluttering beneath your grip.

“D-don’t worry — it’s just — it happens ever year —”

“Still! We should go see a doctor —!”

“No! No — no doctors…” his voice is harsh and he pulls you back towards him with such force that the wind is knocked clean from your lungs as you sprawl against his chest, held there by the weight of his arms and the aftershocks of surprise still coursing through you. Vaguely, you note that he’s much stronger than he’s ever let on — less vaguely, you note that his thumbs as pressing into the bare skin of your side as he bites his lips and looks anywhere but at your face.

“Rafayel? Are… are you okay?”

“It’s — I’m fine —” he lets out another ragged breath and you know implicitly that he’s lying.

“You’re not fine — I’m going to grab some ice — o-oh!” you topple backwards as he pulls you back, strong arms encircling your middle as you try too get up and make for the kitchen.

“R-Rafayel?”

He lets out a long breath as he hooks his chin over your shoulder; in your periphery, you can see the dark blush blooming across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, can feel the heat seeping through his thin shirt and yours to your skin. You can smell slightly salty sweetness of his skin as he holds you to him, his eyes closed, lashes almost damnably long in the moonlight as he tugs you back and slumps against the couch.

“I don’t need anything else but you… so… can you just… stay?”

His voice is soft, almost pleading.

You swallow; you nod; you sink into his embrace, wondering briefly if you’d felt something similar to this before. Or perhaps you’d made a promise like this, once upon a time. But the moon is soft and low and heavy on the horizon, and the sea outside is sweet as it shushes against the long stretch of beach, the water casting a myriad of dancing starlight scattering across Rafayel’s studio ceiling.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, leaning back into his embrace.

“Good…” he says, nosing into the soft spot between your neck and shoulders; you shudder as his lips brush against the sensitive skin there, “good,” he says once again before leaning down to press a longing kiss to your shoulder.

006.

“Stay…” you peer blearily up at him through the haze of sleep, all your limbs feeling both heavy and weightless all at once. The events of the night prior flashes behind your eyes and you flush hot at the memory.

Rafayel lets out a soft chuckle, “Oh how the tables have turned.”

“Hm?” you make an uncomprehending noise, frowning slightly as he leans in to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand, still sitting up, the soft white sheets pooling around his middle, the morning sun casting him in a halo of silver and gold.

“Nothing. I’m just gonna go grab some breakfast — I’ll be right back.”

Still, you pout, digging your fingers into his wrist as you shake your head and whine.

“Don’t… don’t leave.”

Rafayel lets out a soft sigh, laughing as he leans back down to kiss your bare shoulder.

“I’ll just be in the kitchen… I won’t go any further than that — I promise, okay?”

You loosen your grip ever so slightly, “Can your promises be trusted?”

He tuts, gently tugging his arm free, “Of course they can — I found you again, didn’t I?”

You hum, burying your face back into the soft linen cover of the pillow as Rafayel gets up to prep breakfast.

He returns less than ten minutes later with a silver tray and a helpless smile as he looks down at your slumbering form, before he leans down to press his lips to yours, curling his fingers into the baby hairs at the nape of your neck and shimmying back under the blankets with you.

He loops his arms around you and smiles to himself as you burrow deeper into his chest, mumbling incoherently.

“Stupid girl… as if I could ever, ever leave you again.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel x reader #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #qi yu #x reader #love and deepspace fanfic #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace x you #lad rafayel #lad rafayel x reader #lad rafayel x you #help me hELP ME HELP ME WHAT THE FUCK #hes so !!!

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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

Note

Just finished your two Minotaur!Konig fics and I just want to say you wrote those brilliantly, that has to be one of my favorite Konig AUs now! I loved seeing Ariadne!reader try to put up her walls around this monster she's been taught to fear, only for him to break down those walls not because of how powerful he is (although he clearly has strength and animal-like senses in spades) but because of how genuine he is and the tenderness of his heart ❤️. I hope he's able to take her far away the way she dreamed Theseus would be able to (although idk if the whole kingslaying/kinslaying curse thing would hinder that). Also she should definitely give him a little shave cuz I feel like he'd be gorgeous under all that uncombed/unwashed/uncut hair 🔥🔥🔥

Thanks for all of the amazing stories! Sending a virtual hug your way 🤗

Aww thank you!!! You know, I meant to write a tragic romance for these two but couldn't 🥺 (+ I guess I would now be in jail if I had done that lol)

So in my mind, they actually bathe & cuddlefuck for three days before boarding a ship that takes them to some distant Southern shores ❤️ Reader becomes an excellent weaver and local healer over the years whereas König starts to work in the docks. Seafaring gives him the opportunity to see the world and enjoy the sun & use his muscles for something else than just killing (although he does that too if someone threatens the merchants or their cargo)

The only downside is that he's very reluctant to part with his lover and wife, who is frankly quite relieved that this giant goes out to explore the world for a few months per year... That way she can have at least some respite from the constant, heated attentions of this man 🙄 She can't get any weaving done when he's around, demanding love and affection like a child! He knows she can't refuse him and still, he uses that adoring stare to make her lift her hem when she should be working...

& yes he looks absolutely gorgeous when trimmed, combed and shaved, she makes sure he doesn't squirm when getting treated by promising him she shows him a new mating position if he stays still (he barely breathes until it's done). Also imagine this Bull getting a nice bronze tint on those muscles when he gets to stay in the sun all day... He becomes annoyingly proud when he notices the effect he has on his little lady :)

#minotaur!könig #answered #kind souls

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roxygen22 · 7 months

Text

First Day of School

"My Little Cocoa Bean" Series

A/N: Reader inserts are minimal in this one. Reader stayed home with Baby Charlotte (aka Charlie) so Willy and Ben/Bean could have some 1:1 time before his first day of school.

☆☆☆☆☆

"Are you excited about your first day of school, Bean?" Willy asked as he walked through the park with his son. He took the day off to spend some quality time with the boy before he started kindergarten the next day.

Ben was slow to respond and fell behind Willy's pace. He stopped and looked back at the small boy. "Bean?"

Ben looked up at Willy, worry clearly etched in his features. He knelt down and rubbed Ben's arm in reassurance. Willy had anticipated some reticence since Ben had never spent a full day away from you or him.

"Papa," he said in a small voice. "Were you nervous on your first day of school?" The boy's lip trembled.

Willy carded a hand through Ben's curly hair, then rested it on his cheek. "Well, Bean, I didn't get to go to school. But, I have had other firsts. And yes, I was nervous every time."

"Like when?" Ben implored as if he could not imagine his papa being scared of anything.

Willy stood and paused to think. "Like my first day as a sailor. I lived on a boat as a child, sure, but that was on a calm river, not the open ocean. I remember standing on the dock staring up at the huge ship, knowing my life was about to change. I hadn't even climbed on board and I was already seasick just thinking about it." They started slowly ambling down the path again. "But, I did it anyway. After some time, I became a tip-top sailor, like I had been doing it all of my life, and got to see places that most people only dream of."

By that point, the pair had wandered to the base of their favorite hill in the park. Willy could see that Ben was still lost in thought. He needed to lighten the mood somehow.

"Hey, Bean?" he asked to get the boy's attention. Ben looked up solemnly. "Race ya!" Willy shouted gleefully and took off running up the hill. Temporarily stunned, Ben stared at him with wide eyes before chasing after him in a fit of giggles.

Winded, they lay in the grass at the summit to catch their breath and watch the clouds lazily drift by. The two took turns pointing out shapes of animals. After a bit, Willy continued his earlier lecture.

"It's perfectly normal to feel those nervous butterflies in your tummy on the eve of change."

"But I don't want anything to change," Ben lamented. "I won't get to play with Mamma and Charlie. I won't get to help you make new chocolate or candies."

"I know it will be different, but you can still come to the factory or shop after school or on the weekends. Your mother and Charlie will still be eager to play with you when you get home. I bet you'll even make new friends to play with at school. You'll find a new normal. Besides, life would be boring if nothing ever changed."

They turned their heads to look at each other. Willy booped him on the nose with his index finger and smiled. "You probably wouldn't be here if I hadn't gotten on that boat."

"Huh?"

"Well, seafaring allowed me to gather lots of exotic ingredients to make magical concoctions that set my chocolate apart from the rest. Without my shop, I wouldn't have met your mother, and we wouldn't have you, my little cocoa bean. And I'll let you in on a little secret," Willy lowered his voice to a whisper at the end. "I was nervous when I found out about you."

"You were?" Ben pushed himself up on his elbows to look down at Willy's face.

"Mmhmm. You made me a papa, Bean. I had never been a father, nor did I have one growing up. I'm learning how to be one every day. It's been my grandest adventure yet."

Ben smiled, then fell onto his back once more to watch the clouds float by.

"Papa?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you did it anyway. Got on the boat, I mean, even though you were scared."

"Me, too, Bean. Me, too." Willy sighed contentedly.

A few beats passed.

"Papa?"

"Can we go get ice cream?"

Willy chuckled. "Ice cream sounds like the best idea ever."

☆☆☆☆☆

-next day-

You, Charlotte, and Willy walked Ben to school. Ben was bouncy and talkative, asking questions about your memories of your own first day of classes. The boy grew quieter, though, as the building came into view. He shrank behind Willy's leg as more parents and children gathered at the fence, waiting for the school to open.

Willy offered him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, then dropped to one knee to make eye contact. "Don't be shy. It's alright if you feel a little trepidation."

"But do it anyway," Ben parroted from the conversation the day before.

Willy smiled and wrapped the boy in a hug, "That's right, Bean. Do it anyway."

Ben then gave you and Charlotte hugs and kisses, gathered his bag, and started toward the door. He stopped at the bottom step to turn back and wave at you all. Willy blew a kiss and waved as you grabbed Charlotte's chubby little hand to help her wave back. Tears came to your eyes when you saw Ben turn back to the door, pull his shoulders back and head up with confidence, and walk inside.

Still so small, yet so big, so fast, you thought to yourself. You looked to Willy as he wiped fat tears from his cheeks with his silk scarf. He barely maintained his composure until Ben was out of sight.

"I'm going to miss having him around during the day," Willy said with a sniffle.

"As will I, love. As will I," you replied softly.

Charlotte broke the melancholy with a coo. Willy chuckled and reached out to pluck her from her perch on your hip. "You, missy, aren't allowed to grow up that fast, understood?"

::raspberry::

"I'm glad we're in agreement."

☆☆☆☆☆

Masterlist

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short-honey-badger · 10 months

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Peppermint Tea 5

Introducing...PERONA! I love this pink haired princess. I hope you enjoy the switch ups I've done here! I wanted to try and give a little insight to everyone. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings! None this time!

It's only been four days, and Dracule already longs to be back on your quiet island in the middle of nowhere. Just the two of you and quiet Hank, and not the loud mouth ghost girl who had shown up at his castle and just never left. He feels a sigh bubble up and spill over for the umpteenth time today when he hears Perona screech again about…something?

He ignores her shrill voice and focuses back on the task at hand, finding his Darling the books that she wanted. Dracule has already found the seafaring and ship books he wants to give her; his home is filled to the brim with anything he may want, after all. He already knows you enjoy Botany, so he supposes he would search for those next.

Mihawk is pulled from his musing when he notices that it has gone oddly quiet. He cuts his eyes to the floating girl under his care and finds her far too close for comfort. He glares at her, face falling from whatever expression he'd been making, “What, Perona?” He demands.

The pink haired girl narrows her eyes right back at him and floats closer despite the obvious annoyance that colors his tone.

“You are what, Mihawk,” Perona squawks in his face. She glances down at the books that lay across his massive desk, “Since when do you need books about sailing? And you've been,” she grimaces, “Smiley lately. What's that about?”

Dracule's expression closes off, mouth dropping in a sneer, “I suggest you mind your own business, today, Ghost Girl,” he snaps at her and casually tucks his gifts away under his desk. He absolutely does not want Perona of all people to know about his hidden oasis away from the world. You didn't need that kind of attention.

Perona sticks her tongue out at him, “Ugh, so you are hiding something! Why don't you just tell me? Who else will I tell? It's not like Zoro is here anymore.” She laments dramatically. He watches her float up and around the room, her odd stuffed animals watching nervously from the doorway of his study.

“My business is my business,” Dracule quips and reaches for the glass of wine he'd left to air, and then takes a delicate sip. His mind wanders back to you, and he makes a mental note to bring along his favorite wine for you to try next time he shows himself.

The thought of you flushed and giggly with alcohol has him shifting in his seat.While he would never take advantage of you, he can picture you clinging to him, thick tongued as he whispered all the things he wanted from you. You listened to him so well, trusting that he would not lead you astray. Unwarranted, a smirk begins to curl his lips, and his nice day dream is shattered by the triumphant sound that Perona makes.

“See! There you are again! You don't just smile like that! It's creepy,” she makes a face at him, and Dracule can feel the vein in his forehead pulse in pure frustration.

“Get out of here before I toss you in the sea, Perona,” Dracule snaps at her, and the pink haired girl huffs in obvious disdain even as she flips herself around to float out of his study.

“Fine, Dracy. Be that way to your only friend,” Perona snips, and thankfully, one of the stitched stuffies shuts the door behind them.

Mihawk swipes a hand through his hair. He's more annoyed about himself for getting so lost in thought over some woman on a lost island. He doesn't understand why you've become so…special to him so quickly, but he's learned long ago that one shouldn't question why one wants something. You were a unique specimen, one that he wanted to know everything about. These small glimpses into your life he has gotten so far are not enough, not for one as selfish as he.

Dracule huffs to himself, “Acting like a fool,” he grumbled and sipped his wine in contemplative silence until his glass was empty. He stands from his plush seat, mind already occupied with mentally pursuing his collection of books and the ones he wanted to give to you.

-----

Perona catches Mihawk twice more smiling to himself and calls him out each time the next couple of days. She doesn't know what's gotten into Mihawk, but the usual stoic warlord was far more…pleasant than usual. As long as she didn't point out the way he was smiling to himself, that is.

She looks through the odd arrangement of books on his desk when he is gone, frowning to herself at the array of sailing and Botany books. There is even one about the many species of animal that make the Grand Line their home. These aren't the kind of tomes that Perona sees him reading, and it has made her very suspicious.

She drops the books with a wrinkled nose and floats back in the air, “What are you hiding, Dracy,” she hisses to herself and glares at his desk as if had all the answers in the world.

Perona sighs and then fixes the desk, hiding the books from sight and leaving before she is caught by the owner of the castle. She'd hate to see if he actually went through with his threat.

-----

The weeks that you are alone on your island are long. Longer than long, you think. It's been nineteen days since Mihawk left, you know, because you keep careful track of when to rotate your drying racks for your herbs, and the departure has left you more…despondent lately. You try your best to ignore the cold that constantly surrounds you without your mysterious friend.

Were the two of you friends? You didn't really know. You've never been involved with someone before, especially not with someone so unique and interesting as Dracule. It's rare that someone washed up on your tiny island, and when they did, they usually tried to rob you after you tried to help them.

You sigh and sit up in the sands of the shore that faces west, the way Hawkeye had gone when he left. You wonder when he'll come back, and you blush when you think of all the things he might want to do with you next. That kiss the morning before he set sail had been mind-numbing. You liked the way he took control of your life, enjoyed it when he looked at you with those piercing eyes, and ordered you.

A big shaggy body shoves between your arms suddenly, and you snicker as Hank tackles you back down. Even with the distraction of your shaggy pup, your thoughts still linger on the yellow eyed man.

“Look at me, Hank!” You bury your face in his fur, “All I can think about is him kissing me!” You whail and your thoughts instantly turn to the way his tongue had slid in your mouth, headless of you just waking, “I sound like someone from one of those books,” You huff in frustration and rise, wiping hair away from your face when the wind suddenly whips around you.

Something shadow's you from the warm sun, and you squint up to see what had interrupted your rant to Hank. Your mouth runs dry when you see none other than the man your brain hasn't been able to keep quiet about.

Dracule smirks down at his sweet oasis, who stares up at him with big eyes and lips caught in her teeth as if afraid to speak up. He reaches out for her, warm hand sliding along her jaw, and thumb tapping the lip between her teeth. You open your mouth, and Mihawk smooths the pad of his thumb over the abused flesh.

“I believe I heard you saying something about a kiss?” Dracule questions, and you are caught in his ring-eyed gaze. He raises a brow when you nod, and you remember the last time this happened.

“I was, maybe thinking about the kiss from that morning,” you say, voice rough in embarrassment as you try to look anywhere but at Mihawk. His grip tightens, and your cheeks burn as Dracule forces you to look at him, proving any attempts mute.

The warlord chuckles, a dark rumble deep in his chest that has your toes curling in anticipation, “Well then, Dear One. I'm here now. There is nothing stopping you from taking what you want.”

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #fluff #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #opla mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #sugar daddy dracule mihawk #opla dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #peppermint tea

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blood-orange-juice · 5 months

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Reemerging theme of fate as something to avoid in Genshin made me think.

This could actually be what shattered Childe's dreams. Imagine dreaming of having a grand and glorious fate and finding out fate is a cage and a rather disgusting one. And all the heroes of eld were stuck in a miserable circle.

(would explain why he wears Parsifal's ring too. "I'll do it for myself and for that fellow.")

As Saoki said, I too would react to finding that out with "wtf, I'll punch god personally for this!"

It also made me think of how he compared the Traveler with the morning star. There's the obvious Luciferian parallel, of course, but something something watsonian doylist.

The Boy doesn't know the Lucifer legend (even if authors intended this specific reference) but he knows some other context (so he meant something else). So what did he reference? Why the morning star is surpising?

The thing about our world Venus is that its phases and changes of visible size couldn't be predicted by geocentric model. It was something that didn't fit into the concepts of the world.

(something true that doesn't fit the fake laws of Teyvat... hmmm)

If I understand that right, in especially early astronomy (think Babylonian times) calculating even its trajectory was a pain and we have fewer records on Venus than on everything else.

So maybe it's that. The unpredictability. Childe doesn't seem like the type interested in astronomy but maybe he came into contact with the metaphor through poetry or seafaring. These two seem up his alley.

I assume he values defying fate very highly (conflicts, change, him being called unpredictable, the Narcissenkreuz theme of imposing one's will over the world, etc).

Also there's that legend about moon sisters being in love with morning stars.

And Tsurumi island murals that produce absolutely insane theories.

So the concept means something in Teyvat, we just don't know what (a bit like rose in Teyvat is a symbol for secrets but not all the other things it means in our world).

#the boy is sus #as usual #childe #tartaglia #genshin lore tumour #lumine #aether

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fatehbaz · 1 year

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Didn't wanna clog up your post, and these sources are more about relationships of time with space/place, but here's some stuff that I've encountered:

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“Temporal sovereignty”. Contemporary US/Australian claims over time-keeping. Reclaiming agency by operating on Indigenous/alternative time schedules. The importance of the “time revolution” in the Victorian era to Euro-American understandings of geology and deep past, precipitating nineteenth-century conquest of time. Mid-twentieth century understanding of “deep time” and its co-option by the Australian state. "Deep time dreaming".

Laura Rademaker. “60,000 Years is not forever: ‘time revolutions’ and Indigenous pasts.” Postcolonial Studies. September 2021.

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How "time is a form of enclosure". Checkpoints, "baroque processes to apply for permits to travel", fences, incapacity to change residences, and other "debilitating infrastructures" work to "turn able bodies into a range of disabled bodies" by "stretching time". This is a "slow death" and a simultaneous "slowing down of life" because "it takes so long to get anywhere" and "movement is suffocated". Thus "time itself is held hostage". This "suspended state" of anxiety and endless wait-times "wreaks multigenerational psychological and physical havoc". "Checkpoints ensure one is never sure of reaching work on time. Fear of not getting to work then adds to the labor of getting to work [...]. Bodies in line at checkpoints [...] [experience] the fractalizing of the emotive, cognitive, physiological capacities" through a "constant state of uncertainty". "The cordoning of time through space contributes to an overall 'lack of jurisdiction over the functions of one's own senses' [...] endemic to the operation of colonial rule". This "extraction of time" produces a "depleted" and tired person "beholden to the logistics" of administrative apparatuses, community suffers and "communing is thrawted".

Jabir K. Puar. "Spatial debilities: Slow Life and Carceral Capitalism [...]." South Atlantic Quarterly 120. April 2021.

---

The "apocalyptic temporality" that presumes extinction. Indigenous Polynesian/Pacific perceptions and ways of being "destabilize the colonial present" and also "transfigure the past" by "contesting linear and teleological Western time". Indigenous "ontologies of cyclical temporality or inhabitation of heterogenous time". How United States and Europe colonized Oceania for weapons testing and conquest of tropical Edens while rendering local Indigenous people "ungrievable" and "without future". "Pacific time is a layering of oral and somatic memory". Instead of accepting an apocalyptic future or doomsday or nightmare, assert the possibility of a livable future, in spite of "Western temporal closures".

Rebecca Oh. “Making Time: Pacific Futures in Kiribati’s Migration with Dignity, Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner’s Iep Jaltok, and Keri Hume’s Stonefish.” MFS Modern Fiction Studies. Winter 2020.

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Colonial "space-time homogenization". The experience of "homogenous, empty time". Orientalist "time lag" and the naturalization of a supposed East-West hemispheric divide. Late Victorian imperial conceptions of temporality. The British establishment of the Greenwich meridian and International Date Line. The influence of British imperial seafaring and cartography on the establishment of time and on European/US feelings towards the Pacific Ocean. How the origin of English science fiction literature, space travel aspirations, and time travel narratives coincided with the Yellow Peril and xenophobia targeting East Asia.

Timothy J. Yamamura. "Fictions of Science, American Orientalism, and the Alien/Asian of Percival Lowell". Dis-Orienting Planets: Racial Representation of Asia in Science Fiction. 2017.

---

Imprisonment as time-control. Here “the question of the past the present and the future indeed time itself looms” especially around the prisoner. “The law renders punishment in units of time”, taking away a the right to a future. There are alternative worlds, many of them, which have been practiced and brought into being, which colonization tried to obscure. There is “a whole anthropology of people without future embedded in the assumptions that justify mass imprisonment as poverty management”. "The prison’s logic exterminates time as we know it”. In prison, bodies have been alienated from time and history ... the punishment seems endless ... to “achieve a measure of agency and possibility it is necessary to redeem time”, to refuse the doom, fated to a life of abandonment.

Avery Gordon. “Some Thoughts on Haunting and Futurity.” borderlands. 2011.

---

Bursting the Limits of Time: The Reconstruction of Geohistory in the Age of Revolution (Martin J.S. Rudwick, 2010) explores how the advent of European sciences like geology, preceding the "time revolution" when Europeans experienced revelations about the scale of "deep time", happened alongside and after the Haitian Revolution and other abolitionist movements. French, German, and British naturalists translated the explosion of "new" scientific knowledge from the colonies, so that the metropolitan European audience became a market for historical and scientific "narratives" about how "nature" and time functioned.

---

Prartik Chakrabarti's writing on time, temporality, and "the deep past" as British imperial concepts built in conversation with colonial encounters with South Asia. (British Empire reaching such heights in the middle of the nineteenth century at the same time that the newly professionalized sciences of geology were providing revelations about the previously unknown vast scale of "deep time". New colonial anthropology/ethnology also presumed to connect this "primitive" past with "primitive" people.)

See Chakrabarti's "Gondwana and the Politics of Deep Past". Past & Present. 2019.

---

We must witness and consider "multiple space-times" to understand how "unfree labour" of plantations was "foundational" to contemporary work, movement, subjugation, health, etc. We must "trace the geneaology of contemporary sovereign institutions of terror, discipline and segregation" [workplaces, imperial/colonial nations, factories, mines, etc.] back in time to plantations. How "the [plantation] estate hierarchy survives in post-plantation" times and places, with the plantation "being a major blueprint of socialization into [contemporary] work". The plantation was "a laboratory for [...] migration regulation in subsequent epochs" that practiced methods of racializing and criminalizing.

Irene Peano, Marta Macedo, and Colette Le Petitcorps. "Introduction: Viewing Plantations at the Intersection of Political Ecologies and Multiple Space-Times". Global Plantations in the Modern World: Sovereignties, Ecologies, Afterlives. 2023.

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“Slow life” and the relationship between “settler colonialism, carceral capitalism, and the modulation of ... registers of time,” including “historical time, the stealing of time through the expansion of labor time, ... and the cordoning off of space through time”. For example, as in occupied zones or at border checkpoints, “the cordoning off of space through time” includes physical architecture like fences and customs, obstacles that impede movement and rhythm, so that “nothing ever happens on time” and there is “a stretching of time”. All the wasted time spent in line, showing papers, waiting for confirmation, etc. “is not a by-product of surveillance, it is the point of surveillance”. Such that “uncertainty becomes a primary affective orientation ... flesh as felt” with a racializing effect“. "This is a biopolitics conditioned through pure capacitation and its metrics”:

Jasbir Puar. In: “Mass Debilitation and Algorithmic Governance” by Ezekiel Dixon-Roman and Jasbir Puar. e-flux Journal Issue #123. December 2021.

---

"Starfish time". Indigenous Australian/Aboriginal perceptions of time and "attending to more-than-human agencies of time". Acknowledging the timescales of entire ecosystems, as part of multispecies relationships, a "transcorporeal collaboration". Cyclical time vs linear time. Contrasting timescales experienced by insects that only live a few days and creatures that live for decades. "Starfish may seem to be still" but they slowly move; "larval time" and "the time it takes for eggs to develop and hatch"'. The "immensity of the alterity is literally incomprehensible"; "we can't know what these beings know" but we "should seek respect and be aware of how our lives are entangled".

Bawaka Country including, S. Wright, S. Suchet-Pearson, K. Lloyd, L. Burarrwanga, R. Ganambarr, M. Ganambarr-Stubbs, B. Ganambarr, D. Maymuru. “Gathering of the Clouds: Attending to Indigenous understandings of time and climate through songspirals.” Geoforum. January 2020.

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The use of calendars, dates, clocks, and industrial/corporate temporality as fundamental to the rise of plantations and financialization in United States/Europe, with a case study of the modern Colombian/Latin American state. Observance of certain dates and strict adherence to specific calendars support "mythologized deeds and heroic retellings" of colonization and industrialization. “The evolution and internalization of disciplined concepts of time” were intimately tied to the rise of wage labor in industrializing England and later during the global ascendancy of work and industrialized plantation monoculture, but the persistence of alternative time should “serve as a reminder that futures and the demarcation of epochs are never as simple as a neatly organized calendar”.

Timothy Lorek. “Keeping Time with Colombian Plantation Calendars.” Edge Effects. April 2020.

---

Indigenous people of Alaska and the US control over time management. For the past 50 years, Yupiak people have been subject to US government’s “investment in a certain way of being in time” which “standardized the clock” and disrupted human relationships with salmon. This US management model “anonymized care” and made “a way of attending to the life and death of others that strips life of the social and ecological bonds that imbue it” with resilience and meaning, which “ignores not only the temporality of Yupiaq peoples relations with fish, but also the human relations that human-fish relations make possible”. This disregards “the continuity of salmon lives but also the duration of Yupiat lifeworlds ... life is doubly negated” ... “futures depend on an orientation to salmon in the present”.

William Voinot-Baron. “Inescapable Temporalities: Chinook Salmon and the Non-Sovereignty of Co-Management in Southwest Alaska.” July 2019.

---

"Idling" and "being idle" as a form of reclaiming agency and life. Case studies of fugitive Blackness in Caribbean plantation societies. “Disruptive waiting”. “The maroon’s relationship to time challenges [both] the totalizing time of the modern state, but also the [...] narratives to negotiate struggle in the [...] present" in "antagonistic relationship with colonial power". Defying the “European narrative of modernity”. Refusing to be productive.

Amanda Lagji. “Marooned time: disruptive waiting and idleness in Carpentier and Coetzee.” Safundi: The Journal of South African and American Studies. March 2018.

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Indigenous futures. "It is important to remember that some futures never went anywhere" and "yet they survive. These are futures suppressed and cancelled by colonial power." These are "parallel futures". "Colonial power must control the past so as to deny the emergence of" an alternative future; "colonial power creates a future in advance so that no others will take its place". Poor, racialized, Black, Indigenous people manifest alternative futures.

Pedro Neves Marques. "Parallel Futures: One or Many Dystopias?" e-flux. April 2019.

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The "legacy of slavery and the labor of the unfree shape and are part of the environment we inhabit". The "idea of the plantation is migratory" and it lives on "as the persistent blueprint of our contemporary spatial troubles", so we must seek out "secretive histories" that no longer "rehearse lifelessness".

Katherine McKittrick. “Plantation Futures.” Small Axe. 2013.

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“The temporal dispossession” of Congolese people. There is an “impossibility” of “predictable time” because temporal dispossession “disrupts the possibility of building a future”. Livelihoods/income is driven by market and price fluctuations in United States and Europe tech industries, so “there is an inescapable day-to-day sense of uncertainty”. As Mbembe says, “in Africa, the spread of terror ... blows apart temporal frames”.

James H. Smith. ‘Tantalus in the Digital Age: Coltan ore, temporal dispossession, and “movement” in the Eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo.’ American Ethnologist Volume 38 Issue 1. February 2011.

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“Slow death”. Chronic illness not just as a byproduct of colonialism/dispossession, but also as part of its aim, a weapon that debilitates people, who become exhausted. Dooming poor and racialized people to lives “without future” through debility, “a condition of being worn out”. Relationship of illness, lack of healthcare, and debt as functionally incapacitating, a form of death sentence. A “zone of temporality” unfolding unlike abrupt/sudden traumatic events and becoming an inescapable condition.

Jasbir K. Puar. The Right to Maim: Debility, Capacity, Disability. 2017.

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The extension of poverty, landlessness, homeless, and imprisonment. "To be unable to transcend the horror of such a world order is what hell means", and "without a glimpse of an elsewhere or otherwise, we are living in hell". The utopian is not only or merely a “fantasy of” and for “the future collectivity” but can be claimed and built and lived here, now. There is "no guarantee" of “coming millenniums or historically inevitable socialisms”, no guarantee that “the time is right” one day if we wait just long enough. Instead: "can a past that the present has not yet caught up with be summoned to haunt the present as an alternative?" The "utopian margins", an alternate world crossing time and place, an "imaginative space and temporality to trace the remains of what "was almost or not quite, of the future yet to come", living as if it were the present. Colonialism tried to crush the many headed hydra of the revolutionary Atlantic, those who challenged the making of the modern world system.

Avery F. Gordon. As interviewed by Brenna Bhandar and Rafeef Ziadah. “Revolutionary Feminisms: Avery F. Gordon.” As transcribed and published online in the Blog section of Verso Books. 2 September 2020. And: Avery Gordon. “Some thoughts on the Utopian.” 2016.

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The US/European "city is the site of regulatory regimes" that try to impose a definitive narrative about history, progress, and possible futures. But it cannot achieve "a wholly Apollonian, seamlessly regulated realm" because the land "continues to be haunted by the neglected, the disposed of, the repressed". The "commodification" of landscapes "circulates an imaginary geography" mediated through advertisements, labels, soap operas, television, etc. which celebrate "sanctioned narratives and institutionalized rhetoric". A "wild zone" of informal spaces, debris. "Ruins are places where the things, people, and "other memories can be articulated". There is "a spectral residue" that "haunts dominant ways of seeing and being". "Alternative stories might be assembled", so that we can respect the people banished to abandonment, the periphery, and reclaim agency.

Tim Edensor. “The ghosts of industrial ruins: ordering and disordering memory in excessive space.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space volume 23. 2005.

Also, how "master narratives of history as progress decompose" when faced with "a continuously remembered past" when "the ghosts of this past rear up in the ruin" to expose "the debris of unprecedented material destruction" of colonialism/empire-building. These "hauntings rupture linear temporality" and recall those people beaten down as "the trash of history". It is "essential to see the things and the people [...] banished to the periphery [...]."

Tim Edensor. "Haunting in the ruins: matter and immateriality". Space and Culture Issue 11. 2002.

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"Many kinds of time" of bacteria, fungi, algae, humans, and "Western colonialism meet on the gravestones". Some creatures, like lichen, are very long-lived and "these temporal feats alert us that modernity is not the only kind of time, and that our metronomic synchrony is not the only time that matters". The "long duree evolutionary rapprochements to the quick boom and bust of investment capital" where "minor forms of space and time merge with great ones". Extinction is "a breakdown of coordinations with reverberating effects". Ghosts remind us that we live in an impossible present, a time of rupture. "Deep histories tumble in unruly graves that are bulldozed into gardens of Progress". "Endings come with the death of a leaf, the death of a city, the death of a friendship".

Elaine Gan, Anna Tsing, Heather Swanson, and Nils Burbandt. “Introduction: Haunted Landscapes of the Anthropocene.” Arts of Living on a Damaged Planet: Ghosts and Monsters of the Anthropocene. 2017.

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Everywhen: Australia and the Language of Deep History. (Edited by Ann McGrath, Laura Rademaker, and Jakelin Troy. 2023.)

Chapters include: "Bugarrigarra Nyurdany, Because of the Dreaming: A Discussion of Time and Place in Yawuru Cosmology" (Sarah Yu et al.); "Songs and the Deep Present" (Linda Barwick); "Yirriyengburnama-langwa mamawura-langwa: Talking about Time in Anindilyakwa (James Bednall); "Across 'Koori Time' and Space (John Maynard)

#im sorry i guess i accidentally deleted this post so here it is again #colonial #imperial #temporality #abolition #indigenous #multispecies #ecology #temporal #futures #haunted #halloween i guess idk #ecologies #tidalectics #archipelagic thinking #caribbean #victorian and edwardian popular culture #extinction

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insimniacreations · 2 years

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Red Lobster Custom Food Part 3

Menu:

Entrees:

Wild-Caught Snow Crab Legs

Ultimate Feast

Lobster Lover's Dream

Seafarer's Feast

Seaside Shrimp Trio

Surf & Turf Maine Lobster Tail & 10 oz. NY Strip

Surf & Turf Walt's Favorite Shrimp & Filet Mignon

Desserts:

Brownie Overboard

Chocolate Wave

Vanilla Bean Cheesecake

Please be respectful and do not release my early access content. They are only early access and will be free.

Please do not include my items in uploaded builds. Link back to my Patreon page for others to download separately

Please do not recolor, convert, and/or edit my meshes

Please do not reupload

DOWNLOAD

Now on Early Access. Public Release: 3/12 @ 8pm EST

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savvytravelers · 5 months

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Luxury River Cruises

The Ultimate Guide To River Cruising: Insights From Experts

Embarking on a Luxury River Cruise with Savvy Travelers is an unparalleled way to immerse yourself in the heart of diverse landscapes, cultures, and histories. As you journey along the world's most iconic waterways, you'll discover hidden treasures, indulge in luxurious amenities, and create unforgettable memories. To help you navigate the waters of river cruising with confidence and insight, we've gathered expert advice and insider tips to craft the ultimate guide.

Exploring the Appeal of River Cruising

Intimate Exploration: Unlike ocean cruises, river cruises offer an intimate and immersive way to experience destinations. Smaller ships provide access to narrow waterways, allowing you to dock in the heart of cities and charming towns inaccessible to larger vessels.

Cultural Immersion: Each river cruise itinerary is a gateway to diverse cultures, traditions, and cuisines. Onshore excursions provide opportunities to delve into local customs, visit historical landmarks, and interact with communities along the way.

Scenic Views: River cruising offers breathtaking views of picturesque landscapes, quaint villages, and iconic landmarks from the comfort of your ship. Whether you're cruising through the romantic Rhine Valley or the majestic Danube Delta, every moment on board is a feast for the senses.

Insights from River Cruise Experts

To offer valuable insights and practical advice, we've consulted with seasoned professionals in the river cruising industry. Here's what they had to say:

Personalized Service: River cruises are renowned for their personalized service and attention to detail. Crew members go above and beyond to create memorable experiences for guests, anticipating their preferences and providing personalized recommendations.

Culinary Excellence: River cruises offer a culinary journey that reflects the flavors and ingredients of the regions visited. From onboard cooking demonstrations and wine tastings to curated menus featuring local specialties, dining on a river cruise is a gastronomic delight.

Immersive Experiences: In addition to shore excursions, river cruise lines offer immersive experiences that allow guests to engage with local culture. These experiences, such as private concerts, cooking classes, and guided tours, enhance the overall journey and create lasting memories.

Planning Your River Cruise Adventure

When planning your river cruise with Savvy Travelers, consider the following factors:

Destination and Itinerary: Research different destinations and itineraries to find the one that best aligns with your interests and preferences. Whether you're interested in exploring historic cities, exotic landscapes, or wildlife-rich regions, there's a river cruise itinerary for you.

Cruise Line and Ship: Evaluate different cruise lines based on their reputation, amenities, and onboard experience. Consider factors such as ship size, cabin accommodations, dining options, and included amenities to find the right fit for your needs.

Budget and Travel Dates: Establish a budget for your river cruise adventure and be flexible with your travel dates to take advantage of special promotions and discounts.

Enhancing Your River Cruise Experience

Onboard Activities: River cruises offer a variety of onboard activities to keep guests entertained and engaged. From educational lectures and cooking demonstrations to fitness classes and live entertainment, there's something for everyone to enjoy during their voyage.

Wellness and Relaxation: Many river cruise ships feature spa facilities, fitness centers, and relaxation areas where guests can unwind and rejuvenate. Treat yourself to a soothing massage, practice yoga on the sun deck, or simply take in the serene beauty of the river landscape.

Special Events and Themes: Some river cruise lines offer themed cruises and special events tailored to specific interests and hobbies. Whether you're a wine enthusiast, history buff, or avid photographer, there's a themed cruise that's sure to pique your interest and enhance your river cruise experience.

Conclusion

River cruising with Savvy Travelers offers a blend of luxury, adventure, and cultural enrichment that appeals to discerning travelers seeking a unique and unforgettable vacation experience. With insights from experts and careful planning, you can embark on a journey of a lifetime and create cherished memories along the way!

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minkyungseokie · 6 months

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Anime

No Game No Life

Sora and Shiro are two hikikomori stepsiblings who are known in the online gaming world as Blank, an undefeated group of gamers. One day, they are challenged to a game of chess by Tet, a god from another reality. The two are victorious and are offered to live in a world that centers around games.

Blue Exorcist

After discovering that he's the son of Satan, a young man must join the True Cross Academy in order to master his abilities and defeat Satan himself

Naruto

It tells the story of Naruto Uzumaki, a young ninja who seeks recognition from his peers and dreams of becoming the Hokage, the leader of his village.

One Piece

In a seafaring world, a young pirate captain sets out with his crew to attain the title of Pirate King, and to discover the mythical treasure known as 'One Piece.'

Twin Star Exorcist

The story revolves around Rokuro Enmado and Benio Adashino, a pair of young and talented exorcists, who (according to a prophecy) are destined to marry and have a child that will be the ultimate exorcist.

Jujustu Kaisen

Yuji Itadori, a kind-hearted teenager, joins his school's Occult Club for fun, but discovers that its members are actual sorcerers who can manipulate the energy between beings for their own use. He hears about a cursed talisman - the finger of Sukuna, a demon - and its being targeted by other cursed beings.

Fairy Tail

The series follows the adventures of Natsu Dragneel, a member of the Fairy Tail wizards' guild who is searching for the dragon Igneel, and partners with Lucy Heartfilia, a celestial wizard.

Play it cool, Guys

A look into the daily lives of four guys who walk the line between unapproachably cool and undeniably clumsy on a regular basis.

Black Butler

Ciel has formed a contract with demon Sebastian Michaelis, who disguises himself as his butler, to seek revenge on those who tortured him and murdered his parents. In exchange for his services, Sebastian will be allowed to consume Ciel's soul.

Uramichi Oniisan

Being an adult is hard. For 31-year-old Uramichi Omota, that depressing truth weighs on him. While on TV, he's an upbeat exercise instructor for a children's show, but sometimes he can't keep his sardonic comments to himself.

Overtake

Freelance photographer Kôya Madoka finds himself in a slump due to a certain reason. He goes to Fuji International Speedway to work on a story, and he meets the highschool F4 racer Haruka Asahina. He suddenly finds his heart racing after not feeling much for a long time.

March Comes in Like a Lion

It features the life of Rei Kiriyama, an introvert and professional shogi player, who gradually develops both his play and his relationship with others.

The Devil is a Part-Timer

Hilarity and fun ensues when Satan ends up in modern day Japan without any magic to return, and starts working part time in a fast food joint.

Yowamushi Pedal

Onoda is a cheerful otaku looking to join his new school's anime club, eager to finally make some friends. Unfortunately, the club has been disbanded and somehow he stumbled into the bicycle club.

Tokyo Revengers

Hanagaki Takemichi lives an unsatisfying life right up until his death. Waking up 12 years in the past, he reckons with the eventual fate of his friends and tries to prevent an unfortunate future.

Ouran High School Host Club

One day, Haruhi, a scholarship student at exclusive Ouran High School, breaks an $80,000 vase that belongs to the "Host Club," a mysterious campus group consisting of six super-rich (and gorgeous) guys. To pay back the damages, she is forced to work for the club, and it's there that she discovers just how wealthy the boys are and how different they are from everybody else.

Mashle: Magic and Muscles

The story follows Mash Burnedead, a magic-less kid who enrolls at Easton and aims to fool everyone into thinking he's top of the class

IDOLiSH7

An idol group is named "Idolish7," and consists of seven male singers, each with their own unique personality and background. Tsumugi must train and turn all of them into the famous idols, all the while struggling against the hardships of the entertainment industry

Tokyo Ghoul

Set in a world where humans live in constant fear of ghouls - superpowered humanoid beings who feed on human flesh to survive, a shy college student named Kaneki Ken, who is nearly killed in an attack by one of these monsters, becomes a half-ghoul himself after receiving an organ transplant from the ghoul.

Obey Me

The main character is transported to Devildom by a summoning ritual to attend Devildom Academy as a exchange student for one year. The main character will be greeted by seven gorgeous men that are avatars of the deadly sins.

Buddy Daddies

Kazuki Kurusu and Rei Suwa, assassins who live under one roof; and Miri, the daughter of Kazuki and Rei's assassination target who ended up being picked up by Kazuki, who she thinks is her biological father.

SpyxFamily

The story follows a spy who has to "build a family" to execute a mission, not realizing that his adopted daughter is a telepath, and the woman he agrees to marry is a skilled assassin

Haikyuu

Junior high school student, Shoyo Hinata, becomes obsessed with volleyball after catching a glimpse of Karasuno High School playing in the Nationals on TV.

Food Wars

Teenager Soma Yukihira aspires to become a full-time chef in his father Joichiro's family restaurant, "Restaurant Yukihira", and to surpass his father's culinary skills.

My Hero Academia

Born without special powers in a world where 80% of the population has them, Izuku Midoriya still dreams of becoming a hero.

Black Clover

The story follows Asta, a young boy born without any magic power who is given a rare grimoire that grants him anti-magic abilities. With his fellow mages from the Black Bulls, Asta plans to become the next Wizard King.

The Daily Life of the Immortal King

A boy with extraordinary magical powers tries to pass for average at his new high school, where the students learn to cultivate their spiritual force.

Demon Slayer

A family is attacked by demons and only two members survive - Tanjiro and his sister Nezuko, who is turning into a demon slowly.

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hey-august · 9 months

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I'll Be Your Whatever - Chapter 1

Description: Life is full of all sorts of characters - some who come and go, and others that stay. After propelling yourself into a lie you can't (won't) take back, a certain pirate captain may have a reason to come by more often. (Chapter 2)

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: SFW, some profanity. Buggy x afab!reader. No use of Y/N.

A/N: I've been so excited to write this story using one of my favorite relationship tropes. For now, I expect this to stay SFW. There might be a little angst and spice in the future, but nothing Rated R. I'll update the warnings if that ever changes.

The title comes from "your whatever" by lovelytheband.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

As a port town enroute to other, more popular, destinations, there was never a lack of variety with the visiting travelers and explorers. Sailors, merchants, pirates, voyagers, and more made up the guests who patronized the town. They stopped to make repairs and keel hulls, purchase supplies, and plot courses. Most ships only stayed for a day or two. Others wanted a longer reprieve before moving on to busier, dramatic adventures.

Despite living in a town with more assortment than the corner candy shop, it was the locals that made you grit your teeth on a daily basis. You could put up with unapologetic rudeness, aggressive flirting, unnecessary bargaining, and other sour, temporary distastes. This type of behavior was expected from visiting seafarers, but you found it less excusable from those you saw every day of your life.

So when you noticed the two locals who you found particularly unsavory, you considered hiding in the shop you just vacated. Despite years of brushing off their advances and refusing to drop a crumb of attention that’s nothing more than polite, Reeves and Bolsti were stuck on you like butter on toast. Before you could take shelter in the shop, they caught up and were thickly spreading the compliments and attention.

“Hey lovely, I thought the sun was blinding today, but it’s actually your beauty.”

“I think there’s something wrong with my eyes…I can’t take them off of you.”

“Are you tired from running through my mind all day?

“Your hands are too beautiful to be carrying those shopping bags, why don’t you let me take care of them for you?”

Blinking away the expressionless glaze coating your eyes, you gave the men a tightlipped smile and shook your head. You explained that you still had stops to make and couldn't stay.

“You make me wanna follow my dreams,” Bolsti said with a wistful sigh. He hooked arms with you and continued, “So, where am I following you?”

A pit caught in your throat, hot and heavy. The words burning you inside weren’t worth the resulting ripple effect. Gossip and rumors move through town like fire and you wouldn’t be able to tamper the words threatening to burst out. Swallowing the impulse, you extracted your arm and stepped away.

“I really do have to go-”

Reeves interrupted and offered to keep you company, which you swiftly declined.

“There are a lot of pirates around today and you can’t be too safe. I’m sure your dad-” The rest of Bolsti’s remark died under the hard look you sent his way. Shuffling his feet, he continued with a mumbled, “we just want you to be safe.”

“I’ll be fine. The pirates aren’t the worst ones around here,” you said, hoping they got the message. Their rolling eyes said the message was delivered and ignored.

“Please, we’re better than those disgusting thieves. Just give me - I mean, one of us - a chance. We know you’re not seeing anyone.” Reeves stepped closer and flashed what he thought was a charismatic smile. There were poppy seeds in his teeth.

“I am seeing someone.” The words came from your mouth but you didn’t remember saying them. Shit.

It was obvious neither of them believed you. They were arming themselves with follow-up questions that would only sink you deeper. You had to get out of this situation. You excused yourself, yet again, and moved to sidestep the duo. Bolsti reached out and you pulled your arm back, away from his grasp and into the stomach of someone behind you. Hands on your shoulder and the offending elbow prevented you from delivering another accidental blow.

“Fuck, watch what you’re doing,” said a winded voice. You felt annoyance in the words and in the hold on your body, but not danger.

Reeves eyed the hands on your body with anger and jealousy. You didn’t look uncomfortable and he wondered whether this person was actually a stranger to you.

“Is this who you’re seeing? Your…boyfriend?”

All eyes were on Reeves. Bolsti’s, in shock, because he hadn’t entertained that thought yet. Yours, because those were the kind of follow-up questions you wanted to avoid. And the new addition to the group, because he had no idea what the hell was going on. The hands fell off your body at the accusation.

You shook your head to everyone’s relief. Except yours, because Reeves couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut. A growing smirk and an inhale likely preceded a snarky comment about how you’re lying and you couldn’t stand to hear it. Whatever possessed you to say you were seeing someone reared its stupid head and spoke up again.

“We don’t use labels like that.”

Even the stranger knew you were lying and couldn’t hold in a snort. You’re a joke. This is a nightmare. What the fuck. Before anything worse could happen, the door to the shop swung open.

“Is there a problem here?” asked one of the shop owners, eyeing the group.

“No, Mr. Inslo, we’re leaving,” you said quickly, unwilling to languish any longer in the hole you dug.

You grabbed the arm of the person standing next to you and pulled them down the street, blinking back your frustration. The sounds of Reeves and Bolsti explaining the situation - spreading your lie - faded into background noise. Once you two were a decent distance away, you stepped down a side street to release your unwilling conspirator and wipe the tears blurring your vision.

Finally, you looked at the stranger and were greeted by a face you recognized from the bounty posters. Of course. Not just a pirate, but a pirate captain. Instead of the fearsome grin from the poster, however, he currently wore a different look. The clown-y face paint and red nose probably influenced how you read his expression - he appeared irritated but also bemused.

“You’re shit at acting.” His hard tone stung. That was a fair review. You deserved it.

“Whatever, things got out of hand. Sorry for dragging you into it,” you grumbled, deeply embarrassed that your awful performance had multiple witnesses.

“And…?”

You stared at the pirate, unsure what cue you must be missing. Realizing you needed another prompt, the pirate held his stomach and feigned an injury. He leaned to the side weakly and contorted his face, letting out a groan of pain. The odd blue tassels on his hat swung with his movement. You bit back a smile at his dramatic retelling.

“Sorry for assaulting you.” The forced apology was enough to put a stop to his charade. “I guess you do know something about acting.”

“I should, I’m known as the ‘Genius Jester’ after all.” The blank, placid smile on your face annoyed him. “I’m Captain Buggy, the Star Clown!” He held out his arms in a welcoming gesture, which did little to elevate the tightlipped grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Mmm, clown. That explains the…” You waved your hand in front of your face, which seemed to make Buggy even more pissed. “...face paint,” you finished with a confused mutter, which was met by a small sneer.

You didn’t understand why the pirate was getting so fired up when you already apologized and absolved him from the shitty situation you created. Feeling tears well in your eyes again, you took a shaky breath to try and calm the agitation and exasperation flooding your body.

Buggy watched as you tilted your face to the cloudless sky. Your overfilled eyes reflected the bright sunlight before you closed them and inhaled. When you opened your eyes, a few tears escaped.

“Listen, you can go. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“What were you trying to do?”

You didn’t expect the question, but reasoned with yourself that he probably wanted to know how he got involved. It didn’t take long to share the full backstory. You hoped talking about it would alleviate some of the stress. Afterwards, you still felt the oppressive weight on your shoulders, however, it was nice to have someone who knew the truth.

A soft breeze carried voices down the side street. Buggy noticed how you tensed and correctly assumed you heard the two shitheads you were trying to avoid. Panic was written across your face as your eyes darted back and forth, contemplating different scenarios. This was like a cheesy soap opera and the clown could hardly hold in his laughter at the scene. Unfortunately for Buggy, the chuckle that escaped his mouth made him a target.

Without warning, you grabbed Buggy’s coat and stumbled backwards until you met the wall. The momentum threw the pirate off his balance. He threw up his arms to stop from crashing into you or the wall, which was your plan. You were caught between his arms while he leaned towards you - to anyone passing by, this would look like an intimate moment between lovers. And that orchestrated sight is what Reeves and Bolsti saw as they slinked past.

You let go of Buggy’s jacket, letting him step away. Your face was flushed and your eyes sparkled with the momentary victory. You were surprised to see the pirate was smiling as well.

“Not mad?”

“No, that was surprisingly effective. I think they believed it.”

“It only worked because you were still here,” you sighed, resting your head against the wall. “Honestly, a small part of me wants to ask you to keep playing along.”

“Sounds like a role I don’t want.”

You appreciated how Buggy met the energy of your half-hearted remark. It was nice to joke about your predicament.

“That’s fair. What’s in it for you… What do pirates want? Treasure? A treasure map?” you mused.

“Sure, I would do it for treasure.”

You froze. And Buggy noticed. You locked eyes, parallel thoughts running through your minds.

“Would you really? “Do you actually have treasure?”

Another pause. The two different questions managed to answer each other.

“A map. It belonged to my dad,” you finally clarified.

“A real treasure map?” Buggy asked in a low voice you felt compelled to answer. You nodded.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” the pirate waggled his finger, admonishing you for answering. “Telling pirates that you have a treasure map is a very bad idea.”

Fuck. He was right. This was a bad idea. Multiple bad ideas. This was not your day. Your face scrunched in anxiety and disappointment. Another expression that garnered an amused huff from the clown. The subsequent glare you sent him didn’t diminish his amusement.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I know how to keep a secret,” Buggy said with a wink. “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

And with that, the pirate left. He heard an agonized groan and stomping feet fade as he walked away. He shook his head and chuckled as he imagined the frustrated tantrum you were throwing behind his back.

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