#and there were sea monsters out there creatures in the sea that people just hadn’t found yet

[comixandco]

thinking about little molly finch, the baby on a boat that tugged a house across the ocean

who grew up hearing bedtime stories based on tales from her family’s old country, of shapeshifters and seamonsters, and the story of the night the sea rose up around them and dragged that boat down to bottom of the sea bed

who could see that giant house and boat at low tide at night

who drew a picture of a princess in a castle at the bottom of the sea besieged by a sea monster

and died sure it was coming after her

[diejager]

Hi! I got the notification that your requests are open skjsjsjs so exciting, can you do something about the noodle dragon with Monster!Task Force 141 please? That would be all, thank you and have a nice day! ❤️✨

Cw: canon-typical violence, weird water magic, weird dragon/monster shit and lore, death, crash, tell me if I missed any.

They’d gotten used to you over the month, watching you prance around them like a graceful panther in hunt, stalking around them with that cheeky smile of yours and a clawed hand always ready to patch someone up. You were a might dragon, a warm to some classifications and an Asian one to others, but the consensus was that you weren’t one to be trifled with —as most dragons were, but if anything, you were so a feline in a body of a dragon than the ferocious monster you were. Always prowling and on guard, watchful and observant, aware of the events transpiring around you like a protective cat.

They took well to you, forgoing the paranoia and apprehension at your eagerness to help them and you openness, your long tail, hard scales protecting the thick cords of sinewy muscles curled ever so softly around them, and the tuff of fur tickling any naked piece of skin. And however tender and soft-hearted you were, they’d seen the dangerous part of you, the draconic one with a strange affinity to water rather than the destructive fire they were so familiar with. Whereas Price was a chaotic force, burning everything on his path and leaving nothing but cinder and ash, you were an unmoving force of water, a typhoon and cyclone that would crash the land and leave broken pieces of what remained, cold and drowned —the calm before the storm as people said, a perfect imagery of you.

Yet there was a lingering suspicion that it was all, that there was a more monstrous part of you hidden away from their eyes. Horangi had shared such thoughts - another mythical creature of sacredness and nobility - and showed them what hehad heard of eastern dragons: giant snake-like creatures with the faces of lions and crowns of graceful antlers, born with lustrous manes and hard but flexible scales that let them dance and twirl as they wished it. Destructive beauty, Horangihad mumbled, a creature who’s image is drawn to represent beauty and nobility. 

They knew, they were fully aware, that you had more to show, yet they couldn’t hold back the awe and amazement that followed the gut-deep fear and worry after they saw you fall, your figure shrinking as you plummeted into the dark and silent ocean, gone into the wide, open sea. Rather than seeing your head pop out, gasping for air while they clung to their straps and helicopter, Nikolai screaming through the comma about holding onto something, swirling left and right to avoid being hit a second time by the war ship, it was calm, a smooth plain growing in darkness, a shape forming beneath the veil of a blue ocean. 

Then, before they knew it, a majestic serpent erupted from the sea, wet scales gleaming under the sun while you rose into the sky in a spiral, white fur floating like you hadn’t just come out of water. You were swift, curling in the air, your magicworking it’s wonder when you flew, stubby arms and legs moving as if you were swimming, looping around them to shield them from being narrowly hit. It was as Horangi gushed, water rose and fell with you, tendrils of salty water reaching out to curl around you, rising high to swarm the enemy ship the same way you did, circling around it until it was left submerged, swallowed up by your hydromancy. You had drowned warship in the depth of the abyss, a dark and cold pit that promised a lonely death, forgotten and painful. You had caused the deaths of hundreds with a twirling dance, an alluring, yet deadly show, like an oleander.

You made no show of joining them in the aircraft, keeping your distance from them, adequate enough to protect them from further damage without becoming a danger to them. They - especially Price, since he had never seen an eastern dragon, only from files and catalogues - gawked, gazing at your head-sized eye, blinking owlishly at them with a narrowed eyes, slitted pupil gleaming with glee at their admiration. You purred, a growling rumble that shook your gills, a deep sound shuddering through them like thunder, low and booming, but it was a happy sound, meant to comfort them from the near sinking that you’d saved them from.

Even in this situation, where they’d been saved by you, you were still trying to comfort them and reassure them despite having taken a hit or two. They were glad Laswell found you.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird-kamakse @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[sailor-aviator]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Twelve

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Content Warnings: Panic attack, Mentions of dog attack, Tense Daggers, Arguing, Skipper sneaking away, Cursing, Monster appearance, Crying, Begging, Murder confessions, Execution, Gunshot, Descriptions of blood. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.5k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

When you were little, your grandmother had a dog. It was a sweet thing, always eager for pets and treats. You always liked that dog, but the dog tended to be a bit skittish.

You remember walking into your grandmother’s living room one day, no older than five at the time, and seeing the dog - Mitzi you think her name was. You had walked up to her, paying no mind to the fact that she was sleeping, and you stuck your little face by her to greet her. You hadn’t meant any ill by it, but the dog had snapped at you anyway, drawing blood and a screech from your tiny lips. Your parents and grandmother had come running into the room, finding you in tears and Mitzi trying to console you.

Of course, you knew that it hadn’t been the dog’s fault, but it didn’t stop you from shying away from her every time you saw her after that, afraid of the teeth of the otherwise sweet as could be creature that always happily greeted you.

Now you stood on the boardwalk, the ringing in your ears drowning out the laughter and chatter around you, sending you spiraling into a panic as you came to terms with what had just happened. You knew that it hadn’t just been Mandy or Jake to sing to you, but you had allowed yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security, sure that Mandy had been the one to kill the others.

After all, she had tried to kill you.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps as your body went into panic mode, your fingers and toes growing numb as you continued to stare after the space where Cole just stood. He had been the one to tear Mandy apart, but why? To protect you? Why had he killed those other girls then?

In order for a sea person to claim their chosen mate, they have to drag their partner down, down, down beneath the waves, cutting them off from air until they’re to the point of death.

Your breath caught in your throat. Had he been trying to claim them? Is that why he had been singing to you? To drag you beneath the waves of the ocean as well? Your head whipped around to the darkening blue just passed the rails of the boardwalk, the thunderous sound of the waves crashing against the shore sounding more ominous with each passing moment.

Skipper.

Your breathing picked up once more, your hands shaking as you froze, vision becoming pin points as you fought to remain standing, your knees threatening to buckle.

“Skipper!”

A hand grabbed your shoulder and you let out a terrified shriek, drawing the attention of several people around you. You whipped back around, tears in your eyes as they met familiar blue.

“Skipper,” Bob murmured, brow furrowing as he took in your trembling form. “What happened? Are you okay? Where’s Jake?”

Your eyes darted around the crowd, several people glancing over at you with hushed whispers and concerned looks. You let out a choked sob as you finally realized that you were safe. For the moment anyway.

“Bob,” you whimpered, a breeze alerting you to the fact that your tears had long since spilled over. Your bottom lip trembled as the tension finally broke, and you threw yourself in his arms, sobs wracking your body as he held you.

“Skipper, what happened?” He asked again, firmer this time as he ran a comforting hand over your back.

“It was Cole,” you managed to get out, pulling away to look at him, shaking your head frantically. “It wasn’t Mandy. At least, not all those other girls. He dragged them down and something happened, and-”

“Honey, slow down,” Bob said, gripping your shoulders and leaning down to look you in your eyes. “Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?”

You nodded, following his lead as he took in a deep breath through his nose, holding it for a beat, and then letting it out through his mouth. He had you repeat the process a couple more times until you stopped shaking, some clarity returning to you.

“Okay, good,” he smiled, rubbing your arms. “Now tell me what happened.”

“I ran into Cole,” you started again, “except that I didn’t know it was him at first.”

You stopped, pursing your lips as you stared at your best friend.

“Bob, he sang to me.”

“He sang to you?” Bob balked, eyes growing wide as he looked around. “Where is he now? Has he been singing to you this whole time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, taking his hand. “This whole time we thought it was just Mandy, but Bob, it was him too. He’s been calling to me since I ran into him that day at the tilt-o-whirl. He’s the one that’s been killing all of the girls.”

“Why would he do that?” He asked, more to himself than to you. You gripped onto Bob’s forearms, drawing his attention back towards you.

“It’s his frenzy,” you murmured, the pieces clicking together the more you thought about it. “Jake told me that the longer a sea person goes without taking a mate, the more dangerous the process becomes. The frenzy causes sea people to lose their control right?”

“Right,” Bob answered hesitantly, the wheels in his head turning as you continued on with your theory.

“He’s losing control, Bob,” you breathed, looking past him and back towards the water. “He doesn’t have a mate, and he’s trying to take one, but he keeps losing control and killing them. He’s going to keep going until he finds someone to be his mate.”

“Not someone, Skipper,” Bob frowned, worry shining bright in his eyes as he looked up at you. “You.”

“What?” You blinked, confusion sweeping over you.

“He’s been calling for you, Skipper. Ever since he laid eyes on you, it’s been you that he wants. He’s not going after anyone else,” he hissed, hand grabbing your forearm and scanning the crowd wildly. “We need to find Jake and the others. Come on.”

Without waiting for a response, he started dragging you through the crowd, the both of you searching wildly for your friends.

“There!” You shouted at him, pointing to your right towards the haunted house attraction. You saw Bob let out a sigh of relief as he pushed through the crowd with you in tow to stand before your friends.

“Hey!” Nat chirped, smile dropping when she saw the two of you looking worse for wear.

“Woah,” Reuben said with a whistle. “What’s up with the two of you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Which can’t be because we haven’t even gone through the haunted house yet,” Mickey grinned, pointing at the building behind him. Nat rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the two of you.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes searching yours. “Where’s Jake?”

Before you could answer, a hand came up to tug you away from Bob, the bespectacled man moving to protest until he saw who it was, relaxing only a fraction.

“There you are,” Jake drawled, placing a kiss to your temple. “You disappeared on me.”

You looked up at him, and his demeanor instantly shifted from easygoing to alert.

“What happened?” He demanded, eyes glancing at your friends.

“We were just about to get there when you interrupted,” Nat scowled, hands on her hips as she glared at the blond. Jake muttered something under his breath but turned his attention back to you expectantly.

“Skipper is in danger,” Bob said, eyes hard and serious as the words left him. Jake stiffened next to you, the sound of a low growl emanating from his imposing frame.

“What do you mean she’s in danger?” He hissed, green eyes narrowing at your best friend. You turned to face him fully, hands grasping his tightly so that he looked at you.

“It’s Cole,” you breathed, “he’s been singing to me. He’s been singing to me this whole time, and we all just thought it was Mandy. It’s his frenzy, Jake. He’s losing control.”

You cursed internally at the way your voice cracked at the end, emotion overtaking you. You thought about Jake and how close he was to being in the same position as Cole. Even now, you could see how desperately he was clinging onto his control, the greens of his eyes glowing at the very thought that you might be taken from him. You reached up to cup his cheek, pulling his attention back to the surface and away from the depths of his inward spiral. He blinked at you, confusion warring with desperation as you stared at him.

An unspoken message passed between the two of you, and Jake let out a long sigh, reaching up to place his hand over yours.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“That’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard,” Nat snapped, glaring at Bradley as he leaned back on the couch, tossing his hands up in defeat.

“If you’ve got a better one, I’d love to hear it,” he growled back.

All of you were seated around Jake and Bradley’s living room, a common spot for you all to gather these days. You wished it was under different circumstances, but it seemed that you were once again the center of discussion.

“We could just leave?” Bob suggested, arms crossed over his chest where he sat perched on the end of the coffee table. A low growl ripped through the form beneath you, and you squeezed the arms wrapped around your waist.

Jake had been reluctant to let you go or out of his sight once he knew you were in danger, insisting on your current position once you all had made it back to the house.

Jake didn’t look at you, but squeezed you tighter to him as he fixed your best friend with a warning glare. No one was taking you away from him.

“That might not be a bad idea,” Reuben muttered, eyes darting up to look at you. You could feel the anger radiating off of your boyfriend, sighing as Reuben averted his gaze once more.

“We know you don’t like the idea,” Nat started, running a hand over her face as she stared at the blond, “but we’re running out of options here, Jake. She’ll be safest away from here.”

“One of us will be with her at all time,” Mickey offered, flinching at the snarl that tore through Jake. Your brow furrowed as you looked around at your friends.

“I’m missing something,” you said after a beat of silence. “Why are you acting like Jake can’t come with me? What am I missing?”

Everyone avoided your gaze before Bradley rolled his eyes.

“He can’t come with you,” he groused, shooting annoyed looks at all of his friends, “because his frenzy is about to reach its peak, and the ocean is the only place where he can go to release some of that energy without hurting anyone. If he leaves with you, it’s a recipe for disaster and we all risk exposure.”

The room was silent once again as he finished his explanation. Your eyes darted around to each of them, waiting for someone to contradict him. When no one did, you let out a sigh. You knew the goal was to keep you safe, but the thought of leaving Jake behind filled your mouth with a bitter taste, and you knew that leaving wasn’t an option.

“He’s right.”

You jumped, turning as much as you could to look at Jake. A solemn expression sat on his face, eyes pensive before locking on yours. You couldn’t help the stab of betrayal that washed over you, and it was obvious that he noticed.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours, “but if it’s the only way to keep you safe until this passes, then so be it.”

“But what about you?” You implored, feeling the tears kiss the back of your eyes once more. “You shouldn’t have to go through all this alone. I can stay and-”

“Not an option,” he whispered, a wry, humorless smile tugging on his lips. “I need you safe more than I need you here. Don’t you worry about me, angelfish. I’ll be just fine.”

He grazed his nose against yours, breathing you in for a second before pulling away and fixing your friends with a hard stare.

“She’ll need to go inland.”

And with that, they began to discuss plans to take you away from North Island. A feeling of unease and restlessness filled you. How could they expect you to just up and leave? Did you really get no say in what happened? No. Jake might be okay with this, but you weren’t.

While your friends planned, you began to form a scheme of your own.

An hour passed, and you moved to stand, Jake’s arms stopping you as you let out a huff.

“Where are you going?” He asked, eyes immediately glaring at the front door as he listened for any sign of danger.

“To the bathroom,” you scowled. “I think I can do that by myself, don’t you?”

Jake gave you a sheepish look before helping you to your feet, hands on your waist to steady you as you stood in between his legs. The two of you stayed like that, his hands on you as you cupped his jaw in yours.

“I love you,” you said, never breaking eye contact. Jake’s breath hitched at your words, eyes shining as he studied you. He reached up to grab your hand, turning his face into it as he kissed your palm once, twice.

“I love you too,” he smiled, meeting your eyes once more. Your heart swelled before a wave of guilt washed over you, and Jake must have sensed the change because his smile dropped and his brow furrowed. He moved to say something, but you stopped him with a kiss to his forehead.

You pulled away from him, moving down the hall like you were going to use the restroom. The voices in the living room faded slightly, and you paused just out of sight. You waited for a moment before your gaze shifted from the light pouring into the hall to the dimming light filtering through the back door. As quietly as you could, you opened the screen door, slipping out onto the porch and into the night.

You weren’t sure where to go, but you knew you needed to be far away from other people. So you walked the length of the beach, coming to a rocky inlet that was sheltered by the surrounding cliffs. The waves crashed gently against the shore, coaxing you to step closer.

You made a seat out of one of the flat rocks along the shoreline, crossing your legs as well as you could in the dress you still wore. You wished you could have changed, but the group had been in such a hurry to get you away and to somewhere safe, that a change of clothes had fallen by the wayside.

Now here you sat, watching the sun dip below the shoreline, the raucous from the festival still heard even this far out. Still, you waited on the rocks even as the cold seeped through your dress and to your bones, sending a shiver up your spine. The air was calm and unassuming, a stray gull crying out overhead.

“I know you’re out there!” You hollered, watching the waves as they lapped against one another. “I know you’re looking for me too. I’m right here, Cole! Come and find me.”

You waited, still watching the water for any sign of a disturbance. Minutes passed, and you knew the others had discovered your disappearance by now. Another pang of guilt rocked through you, but you remained where you were. After a moment, you stood, stepping back onto the sand and facing the water. With a determined breath, you stepped forward. Then again. And again, until finally you came right to where the water stopped.

“If you won’t come to me,” you shouted, eyes flickering across the waves as the sky around you grew darker, “then I guess I’ll just have to come to you.”

You took a step into the water, feet sinking further into the sand as you shuffled through. Stopping again once the water reached your knees, you looked around for any sign of life. It wasn’t until your third sweep that you spotted him, and your heart stopped.

Cole’s eyes glowed an inhuman green, unblinking as they stared at you. Everything from his nose downwards was hidden beneath the water, but you saw him. It unnerved you how he didn’t move, simply content in that moment to watch you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you called, hoping you could be heard over the crash of the waves against the rocks. A wave crashed against you, sending you teetering back a little bit as you lost your balance. You stretched your arms out to steady yourself, looking down to frown at the water around you. Looking back up, Cole was gone and your heart dropped. It was only a moment though before he resurfaced, just a foot or two away from you this time, and your heart nearly lept out of your chest at the sight of him.

He looked even worse this close up, olive skin looking pale and shrunken as he stood in the water to face you. The pupils in his eyes were almost slits at this point, and you could see the webbed claws of his hands resting on the surface of the water. He looked like the stuff out of nightmares.

“Cole?” You questioned, unsure if he would even recognize you in his current state. He cocked his head to the side, seeming to contemplate you with a series of clicks that didn’t sound unlike something a dolphin would make. You swallowed around the lump in your throat, continuing, “Why don’t we go back to the beach, huh? We can talk there?”

He stayed silent, still watching as you retreated to the beach, keeping your eyes on him as you moved. Finally, he followed after you, moving like something out of one of those b-grade horror movies Bob made you watch sophomore year.

You let out a small sigh of relief as your feet finally left the water, placing you back on dry land. You retreated a couple more steps until Cole stood in the surf, the two of you only three feet apart now.

“You didn’t mean to hurt those girls, right?” You asked softly, and a flicker of recognition flashed in his eyes before turning into something akin to sorrow.

“Wanted…a mate.”

The change in his voice startled you as well. It was a mixture of a gurgle and a rasp, once again highlighting how inhuman the man before you had become.

“I know,” you murmured, tears stinging at your eyes. “It’s your frenzy, right? It’s making you lose control.”

“Frenzy,” he hissed out, cocking his head to the side once more as he regarded you. Something flickered in his eyes, and he took a step towards you, sending you two steps back. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears as he sneered at you, and you caught a glimpse of his teeth. Teeth that just earlier that evening were normal - human. Now, they were serrated and sharp like a shark’s. You dared to scan the rest of him now that he was completely out of the water, and you noticed now that slits had opened up along the column of his throat. Gills.

“Is this what happens when you don’t take a mate?” You asked him, heart clenching in your chest. “You don’t just lose yourself, huh? You become something you were never meant to be.”

“Skipper,” he said, voice ringing out as he used his song, and a wave of dizziness ran through you, hitting you like a brick wall. You fought against it, shaking your head and clamping your hands over your ears as he went on.

“Need you, Skipper. Come away with me.”

You shook your head again, willing yourself to stay put, but his song that close? It was almost impossible to resist.

“Please.”

Your hands fell to your sides as you quickly lost the battle for your senses, gaze fogging over as you gave in. You took all of one step towards him before the sound of a snarl mixed with what sounded like the call of a whale rang out.

Hands ripped you back before slashing towards Cole, drawing out a pained cry from the man as he fell to the sand, a snarl twisting his lips as he glared up at the person that stood between you and him.

Jake’s eyes glowed a richer green than Cole’s, fury so clear on his face that it almost distracted you from where his pupils were now drawn into slits of their own. His teeth were bared against Cole, hand raised to claw at him again should he move.

“Mine,” Jake growled, the rumble coming from deep within him as he stood over the other man. Cole’s eyes darted to yours, and your heart broke at what you saw.

For a moment, the man you knew before shone through, tears lining his eyes as he looked at you desperately, pleading with you. Without thinking, you placed a hand on Jake’s arm, pushing it out of your way as you moved to kneel down beside Cole.

“Skipper.”

You turned to see Bob and Bradley standing a few feet back, the two FBI agents standing next to them. The older of the two had a grim, sorrowful expression on his face as he watched Cole and the younger looked like he was still coming to terms with what was happening before him. Bob looked like he was about to rip you up from the ground himself while Bradley watched you with an unreadable expression on his face. You gave the two of them a reassuring smile as you turned your attention back to the man in front of you.

Slowly, gently, you cupped his face in your hands so that he looked at you, and for a moment you were reminded of your grandmother’s dog. A sweet thing, but perhaps not meant to be around other people.

Tears flowed freely down Cole’s cheeks as he watched you, the man you knew resurfacing once more. You stroked your thumbs carefully over the apples of his cheeks, wiping away his tears. A sob wracked through him as he closed his eyes, face pinched in pain. You wrapped your arms around him then, holding him to you.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, quietly at first. His shoulders shook as he began to cry harder, his voice raising in pitch as he continued. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I just wanted the pain to stop, and I-I-I didn’t mean to wait this long. I thought I had more time! I thought that I could pick a mate, but every time I tried to bond with them, it went wrong!”

His tears soaked through the fabric of your dress now, and you were only vaguely aware of the tears that streamed down your own face.

“I didn’t want to hurt them,” he whispered, clinging to you.

“I know,” you whispered back, nodding against the top of his head.

“Make the pain go away.”

“Cole,” you trailed off, looking helplessly at the men around you. He shook his head, pulling away from you.

“Not like that,” he rasped, the look in his eyes growing farther and farther away, and you knew that the moment of lucidness was coming to an end. “It’s too late for that now. There’s only one way out for me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you moved to argue, but he shook his head.

“I’ll do it.”

You turned to see the older of the two FBI agents, Kazansky if you remembered right, stepping forward to stand beside Cole. You hesitated, looking down at the man in your arms. He gave you a reassuring nod, letting you go as Jake helped you to your feet. The blond pulled you back to stand with the others and you watched as Cole readjusted himself to kneel with his back straight. Kazansky moved to stand behind him, pulling out his service weapon and aiming. A shudder ran through Cole as the monster within came crawling back to the surface, his eyes darting to you.

“I’m sorry,” he sang out, claws digging into the sand. “Please.”

The shot rang out, and you let out a startled cry as Cole’s lifeless body slumped to the ground, crashing with a deafened thump. Your hand flew to your mouth as you stared, watching his blood soak the sand around him and turning it a sickening maroon.

Kazansky holstered his weapon, glancing up at your little group with a purse of his lips as his partner, Simpson, walked cautiously over to him.

“Kerner is going to be pissed when he hears about this. He loves crazy shit,” the younger man muttered. Kazansky scowled at him before turning his attention back towards the four of you.

“You kids should get out of here,” he grunted. “Somebody was bound to hear that shot and call someone. You don’t want to be here when the cavalry shows up.”

“What are you going to say happened?” Bradley asked, eyeing Cole’s corpse. Kazansky shook his head with a sigh.

“You let us worry about that,” he replied. “Now get.”

The boys didn’t wait to be told a third time, moving to leave, but you stayed rooted on the spot. It felt wrong to leave Cole there, and you suspected it had a lot to do with the man who wrapped his arms around your shoulders in a bid to steer you away.

“There’s nothing more you can do for him, Angel,” he murmured, thumb stroking over the skin of your arm as he pulled you along gently.

“That could have been you,” you whispered, and he froze. It was true. Jake was nearing the the point of no return with his own frenzies. He knew it, you knew it, everyone knew it. His hand came up to cup your cheek and you finally looked up at him. His eyes swam with an indiscernible emotion has he studied you.

“It’s not,” he told you quietly, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “It won’t be.”

The promise between you two was a silent one, but one that you accepted, finally allowing Jake to pull you along to catch up with the others as police sirens sounded off in the distance.

The weeks of danger, terror, and uncertainty were finally over and behind you.

A/N: Only one chapter left! How exciting!! Anyway, gentle reminder that if you would like to receive updates on my stories or other content I create to follow @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator. Until next time! Happy Valentine's Day!!

[habit-poxly]

father neptune (pt.1)

Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader 

sea monster-hunter au!

description: Ghost is a crew member aboard the Bravo 141, a large sea monster hunting ship with decades of battle experience. Upon docking in a small, remote island the crew of the ship are warned by the locals of a spirit that wanders the beach at night- waiting to drag unsuspecting passersby into the depths of the ocean. Disregarding the villagers cautions, they stay the night; unknowingly invading another ghosts haunting ground. 

warnings: alcohol, no sea monsters in this pt >:( , harpoon, strong horror elements 

word count: 4.1k

masterpost | Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt.3 

The year is 1809. Simon Riley -better known as 'The Ghost of the Sea' by other monster-hunting vessels- was a member of the crew on the Bravo 141, a large three-mass ship. In the earlier years of the vessel Simon and his crew would be out for months, travelling the open waters in search of high-bounty kills. Yet over the past couple of years, after the loss of crew, friends and family over and over, after the deep wounds that have changed the survivor's bodies forever, after taking beatings and battering- the crew had decided to begin to slow down. Their once bustling crew now reduced to just four: Captain Price, Ghost, Gaz and Soap. It was more honest work now, mostly just drifting their large hunting ship up and down the coastline looking for creatures that wandered too far in; nothing like the massive firefights and battles of their heyday.  

As of recently they had been using the same route, taking them sailing into the same small port village for minimal supplies and trading every journey- It had been the Captain's favourite stop and it was not difficult to see why. The coastline would dip and rise, falling into beautiful rocky beaches and climbing into sharp, nearly completely vertical cliff faces. The out of place looking dock was wonderfully maintained and big enough for them to dock, the small bay it rested in deep and void of undercurrents. The lighthouse was always in working order despite the Bravo 141 being the only ship to regularly pass through other than a few small personal vessels. Inside the village was quaint- only a hand full of buildings scattered distantly across the hilly, grassy landscape. The crew only ever saw a handful of people about- there was almost always a few men in the pub, maybe they'd see one or two men walking through the winding dirt road that lead from the dock into the village centre, but never any children or women- always just older men. They had found it odd, yet they were so few people living in this area the crew had presumed the men shipped their families off for education on the mainland- or perhaps none of these men had anyone at all. 

They had never stayed for more than a few hours during daylight, never having needed to do anything except resupply and head to the dusty pub. The old men inside would tell tall tales on end of a ghost that haunts the coast, walking up and down the beach with a lantern in hand looking for men to drag into the sea to claim for her own. No man on their small crew of 4 was superstitious despite their odd profession- the only ghost they knew to be real was the Ghost who draws their sails, aims their harpoons, and sleeps soundlessly in his bunk. The local's warnings went firmly unheeded by the experienced monster hunters, quickly being discounted as fiction and promptly made fun of, becoming something of an inside joke amongst the crew. After all, they had faced beasts larger then their ship- no ghost, no woman, no chance of death was anything to fear.

After a particularly gruelling chase and fight, the ship had come up empty-handed. The giant, grey monster they had wrapped in their net managing to wiggle free and dive back down into the deep, refusing to resurface. The creature itself hadn't caused any incidents yet- but was massively large with thick rows of razor-sharp teeth, a beast deserving of a hefty bounty. They had suffered three weeks of tracking, chasing and running in circles only to limp back to the only port near empty-handed was a unignorable blow to the crew. The journey home would be long and tedious, far too long to not rest beforehand. Yet the closest large port was days away in Dublin-  in the opposite direction of London, where they were located. It was a simple decision, they'd stay in port for a few nights- possibly a few weeks if they could find a bed in town- and enjoy the peace of the cliffside while they recuperate. 

Sunday evening air blew a chilled but comfortable breeze over the ocean, the ship softly bobbing up and down in the calm water of the bay. As night fell, the men gathered on the ship's front bow for a few drinks as they did often, looking out into the pitch-black landscape ahead of them. They had gone into town earlier in the evening to head to the pub- only to find it closed and the town completely dark. It appeared that all the villagers had turned their lights out the moment darkness had settled over the landscape. 

"It's odd, yeah? They must really believe this place is haunted." Gaz hummed, swirling a glass of whiskey in hand as he leaned over the ship railing. The group of men had long abandoned properly putting on their gear, settling for tunics, breeches and leather boots- all except Soap who still managed to pull enjoyment out of dressing extravagantly. 

"Turnin' out all their lights like that is making it worse. They're scarin' themselves." Price quips with a scoff, drunkenly slurring his words "Hysterical, the lot of em" With a wave of his hand he refills his own glass and takes a long sip. Simon could swear the drink in his hand had to be his 5th or 6th since they started- everyone else having had about the same. It wasn't uncommon to see the men aboard heavily intoxicated while no work needed to be done, it happened almost every evening recently in fact. There were never any conversations over sensitive topics, everything felt far too tender, and drinking was the welcomed substitution. 

"Even if there was a lass walkin' up the beach lookin' for poor bastards to drag in- they could just not go to the beach at night, right?" A wide, cocky grin stretches across Soap's face at his words, face flushed red from the booze. "Would solve the whole issue... And they can keep the lights on." 

Simon had half been paying attention to the conversation happening beside him, his focus mainly on the swishing of the liquid in his cup. The whole thing was ridiculous to him, anyways. Giving it any thought at all was a waste of energy, yet the others had been speaking endlessly about it. Out of habit, he readjusts the piece of cloth covering the lower half of his face- messy blond hair sticking up in every direction. Perhaps that's why Gaz and Soap had insisted they had drinks on deck tonight- to watch for the ghost. Simon guesses Price was just as interested- as he did nothing to stop it, even bringing out his nice whiskey glasses. The only light for miles was what was softly radiating off the lanterns and candles scattered across the vessel, making focusing on anything but the black outline of a shore and waves very difficult. During the evenings when the moon is covered, the ocean swallows any light, making everything below a pitch-black void.

"Can't be that simple, bastards must have a reason to be actin' this way." Ghost grunts taking a swig from his glass, eyes fixating on the ground. The ship's floorboards creaked under his weight as he shifted, leaning his back against the ship railing. 

"Wait- fuck. Look." Gaz loosens the collar of his red tunic and points down the shore to a small, glowing yellow dot. "Someone's on the beach with a lantern all the way down there- didn't even see it 'till now" Gaz announces, gathering everyone's attention to where he was looking. About 500 yards from the ship was the soft silhouette of a woman- wearing a long, loose white dress that hung heavy from the waist down with water. The light from the flame inside wasn't enough to shape any distinct features from her- just her clear outline. She wasn't facing them, not at the moment, her gaze was turned out to sea- ankle-deep in the no doubt freezing ocean water. 

"Someone's fucking with us. One of those bastards from the pub." Soap grumbles, his body leaning over the boat in an attempt to get a better look. Price nodded, taking another long sip. 

For a moment Simon can see why the people in town would be frightened, seeing her there was certainly jarring against the jagged black rocks and swirling waves. She looked like a woman, a real, human woman standing in ankle-deep water.

"I don't think so." Simon says, voice deep and tense. Shuffling closer to the edge he focuses on the figure. Silence falls over the crew as she takes another step deeper into the water, it reaches up to her knees now. The bottom of her loose white dress bubble to the surface- riding on top of the waves. 

She wasn't bothering them, nor had she called out for their attention in any way, she was just standing on the beach alone. Maybe she was a real person who was just someone who liked to linger, or maybe she was a ghost- haunting the beach waiting for one of them to drunkenly wander to her so she can take them away.

"Creepy." Gaz hum's, leaning back onto the ship. "If she gets any closer I'm going to shit my pants." The men chuckle, quickly brushing off the instance as all three turn back to the table on the deck. Quickly the topic is discarded, the group arriving at the conclusion that it was nothing worth worrying about. The men begin a game of cards, enjoying the pleasant evening and indulging in, even more, liquor- yet Simon can't help but stay glued to the railing watching the woman in the water. After a few moments still, she takes a few steps back onto the beach, the sound of the metal clanks from the lantern managing to reach the ship. There she stays, feet planted to the ground facing the open ocean. 

Loud laughter busts out behind him, the smell of liquor wafting over the ship as the volume increases. Ghost nearly flinches when he watches the woman's head snap towards him, her gaze no doubt locked on his form. She raises her hand and turns off the flickering blaze- plunging the beach back into complete darkness, shielding her completely. If she hadn't been aware they were watching her, she was now. He straightens, eyes running over the dark area in an attempt to catch her figure again; yet he doesn't. No shadows of movement flicker, no sounds of footsteps are heard, it was as if she had simply vanished from her spot. 

"She's gone." Simon said flatly turning back to the group, he hears Soap choking down a hardy laugh as he hiccups. "Like she walked away?" He asks, Scottish accent thick with drunkenness. 

"No. She turned the light off. I can't see her anymore." He replies sternly hands gripping the railing in front of him tightly. It was worth no mental energy, he had told himself, yet still, he sat there with eyes mulling over the dark evening for the ghost's figure. 

"Creepy!" Gaz says again shaking his head, the three men glance at Price who simply shrugs. "Suppose we could head down and see." 

Gaz and Soap visibly tense, quickly exchanging glances. "All of us, Captian?" Gaz asks. 

Once again he shrugs. "Doubt it's anything more than a woman on an evening walk, I'd like to get out for a walk myself." He says placing down his glass and beginning to walk to the main floor of the ship to disembark, he wobbled slightly in his steps- yet it was nothing anyone was worried about, the rest of them were nearing that point themselves.

The three other men quickly grab their things, following the Captian wherever he decides to take them. Soap had grabbed a harpoon while exiting the ship, earning a stern look from both John and Simon. Silently, the men made their way down the dock and onto the empty beach. From this vantage point, the ground was much clearer, yet still far from perfectly visible. 

" 'right." Price grunts, adjusting his light and turning in the direction they had seen the woman. A thick fog had seemed to begin to quickly rush in covering the path ahead in a thick sheet of it. "Why'd you bring that stupid harpoon anyways?" He raises an eyebrow, half turning to the man behind him. Price was leading the way, followed shortly by Gaz and Soap and lastly Ghost lingering behind at the back. The sound of boots displacing the rocks that covered the ground echoed off the tall wall-like cliff beside them. If she wasn't wearing shoes Simon doubts they'd be able to hear her footsteps- and that was more than likely. 

" 's for protection!' Soap held it up proudly, earning a chuckle from the group.

"From the ghost? That'll come in real handy." Simon grumbles and rolls his eyes, Soap stopped and turned back to him- it only takes a few moments for the two to meet and begin walking together. 

"Only you said it might be a ghost, Ghost." The man smirks, fixing his gaze back on Price.

"Didn't think you were the faithful type, Simon." John muses- a large, drunken grin steadfast across his face-, holding the small light strong in front. Simon wasn't faithful- sure: he had been raised protestant, had gone to church every Sunday his parents made him, had been a choir boy at the city chapel, but he was never faithful. The word held no meaning to him, he had seen the sea swallow many good, capable men,-in his youth he had prayed to women, to bourbon, to money and what it could buy but the only god he prayed to nowadays was Father Neptune. Silent prayers for safe passage leaving every dock, every harbour. No one knows he does it but him, but Simon was never 'faithful', or at least he'd never admit it out loud. 

Yet, clearly, someone haunts these shores. His personal stalking ground was elsewhere- just beyond the breaking waves not two meters from him. This was someone's place they came to pray, he was sure of it. He had hoped their God had been merciful to them, but their pacing of the shore begged to tell a different, more unsettling story. What pain must they have gone through to be so tortured? No person could force him to suffer a fate as he imagines hers to have been- perhaps her story had concluded, and she was left scattered in the aftermath. A ghost like him was difficult to come by, regardless of if they were of the flesh. 

" 'm not." He replies sternly, it was more than controversial to not follow the crown faith, especially after the rise of Napoleon, yet all men who stepped onto the deck of a hunting vessel such as their own would no doubt leave an atheist. Simon had lost his faith long before that ship, though; it dwindled over time as experience after experience cast chisel marks into the stone. 

"But you believe in ghosts?" Gaz quips, chuckling softly. Simon shakes his head, deciding to end the conversation where it stood. 

As the group slowly stumbled further down the beach, it was clear inebriation had begun to make the trek undoable, Soaps steps swaying- feeling slipping over the large rocks that bade the beach- Price and Gaz were not much better. Simon hadn't drunk nearly as much, feeling far more capable here than the others must have. 

Suddenly, Price stops and motions for them to be quiet, causing the men behind him to go rigid. Almost instantly upon the silence settling over them, they heard it. 

Coming loudly from a dark dip in the rock face ahead echoed soft, haunting cry’s- a woman's voice spattered and sobbed, merciless noises racking from the cave and bouncing down the beach. It was as if she was in agony, as if she had lost something so unbelievably valuable to the dark waters that she would never recover, she would walk in mourning forever. The wailing grows louder the more small steps forward Price takes sending shivers down the spines of the men. 

"Hello?" He drunkenly calls out, receiving no response. The crying doesn't fade, instead staying at the same level of distress. John calls out again, this time a decent bit louder while taking a few steps closer. 

"You 'right?" Soap screams louder, his voice bouncing off the walls of the cliffside and bringing the crying to a sudden stop. After shooting Soap sharp glances the men sit in dark silence for more than a comfortable amount of time- frozen, waiting for any other noise. But when none come Price scoffs. 

"This is definitely someone fucking with us, Cap." Gaz asserts, taking a wide step back in the direction of the boat. "Let's just go." His face quickly dissolved into a look of worry, he moves to grip the Captain's shoulder with his hand but Price takes a staggered step back. 

" 's not a thing to worry about, son." The man shakes his head and takes a few more steps toward the cove. 

Simon steps forward, walking after John slowly. "Come on, let's go." There was a threatening tone to his voice. Gaz and him exchanged looks, both now suffering from the same sinking feeling. "John, come on." Simon says again, it coming out as a plea this time, Price now walking full speed towards the entrance to the cove, light held out in front of him. 

The three men paused as John stood outside the entrance, placing his lantern down onto the beach he calls into the cave again, receiving yet again no response. Simon watches him place his two hands on the rock walls of the cove and lean his head in to look around. 

"You 'right in there, love?" Price slurs out. For a moment, theres nothing- no noise, no movement, just the crashing of the waves and the breeze through the rocks. 

Two hands shoot out from the darkness of the cove, violently shoving John's chest. Frantically he slaps the hands away and lets out a loud, terrified scream  and sending him reeling back. The hands retreat back into the darkness, the sound of footsteps echoing from inside stop as suddenly as they start. Price falls onto the rocks with a loud thud, eyes wide and face panicked- he isn't on the ground for more then a second before he begins sprinting back in the direction boat, running straight past the group and losing both loosely tied boots in the process. Gaz and Soap are quick to follow, immediately retreating with the Captain with frantic screams. In the panic the Harpoon clinks to the ground, abandoned. The footsteps fade as they disappear into the fog- not even the light from the ship was visible anymore.

Simon, though, had remained locked in place, eyes fixed on the cove's entrance. He had seen his crew scared, he had seen these men say final goodbyes to each other on rough missions, had seen them face death and accept it, yet this had terrified them. Sent them running with tails between their legs. It was the booze, Simon told himself, the booze they drank at nausea every night finally driving them all mad. He had no reason for staying, no reason for standing motionless and weaponless outside the cave in wait, his breath ragged and heart thumping in his ears. 

Slowly the crying begins again, sniffles growing to silent sobs.

"Leave now aswell, Man." The woman’s voice staggered out through hiccuped breaths. Despite the demand, her voice sat hollow and soft- only audible due to the echo of the cliffside. "Less I drag you into the deep." Her words seemed unsure, as if she staggered over saying them.

"You'll drown me?" Simon takes another step forward, as if guided to her by her voice- as if she was pulling a string attached to him and dragging him forward. 

"Begone, Ghost." The woman's gentle voice pleaded. 

"Me? I? The ghost? Out of the two of us?" He muses, a nervous smirk settling across his covered features. "Only you haunt these beaches, only your lantern lights these shores, you are the ghost. You've earned the title far more than I." 

"Leave me be, sailor, I beg." Her voice tightened as he further approached, not deterring his speed. "You'll be cursed if you come any closer, I'll swear it!" She began to sputter another sob, the sound of which echoed down the length of the beach. By the time she had finished and Simon had paused it was too late, him standing beside the small entrance- close enough to rest the bare palm of his hand against the cool rock. 

"I am cursed." He huffs, the scent of booze wafted off of him. Simon stood in spot for a moment, thinking over the night's events as clearly as he could. "Tell me 'ghost', what will you do if I've always been cursed?" He hum's, a drunken smile plastering his face.  

The crying quiets at his statement, leaving only the sound of the gentle evening waves in its wake. 

"I'm sorry you have always been cursed." The voice responds, tenderly, far too tenderly to be meant for him. 

The salty night air blew easily threw his thin clothes- the oceans breeze nipping at the little skin he had exposed. Distantly, a panicked voice calls his name- Price, he imagines; finally sobered up enough to realize the possible severity of the situation. Turning back his eyes scan over the still lingering fog. 

What was he even still doing here?

Why had his feet remained in place- why had he been drawn into her? Why did he want to stay? 

A sudden wave of nausea washes over him, his face suddenly heating and his gut turning in his body unbearably. Turning back, as if broken from a spell, his feet move on their own- sending him barreling down the beach towards the Captain's increasingly frantic yells. In what felt like a blurry instant, Simon was hung over the balcony of the boat, the evening's dinner -a worrying amount of alcohol- lost to the ocean tide. Soap had rushed to his side, Gaz tending to Price who was currently sprawled out on his back across the main deck. 

"Fuck! Fuck." Soap grunted. "What the fuck was that? Ghost, what happened?!" His voice was frantic, clearly having sobered up the most out of all of them. 

"I don't- I-" Regardless of how hard he fought, how hard he tried to formulate a proper sentence- he just couldn't. Vomit stained the front of his black tunic, face covering abandoned somewhere on the ship deck

"You broken?" Soap asks, the worry on his face melting into a strained smile as Simon shakes his head no. Soap patted him on the back before turning his attention to the -now passed out- Captain. The four of them managed to hobble into the sleeping quarters and retire safely for the evening- not before Soap pulled the plank they used to exit the boat off the dock. 

When the sun rose, the men were up as always. There was a brief discussion of the previous night's events, but with Simon and Price's aversion to speaking about it Soap and Gaz quickly stopped asking questions. The line of conversation concludes with Price grumbling about losing his boots. Swearing obscenities and curses non-stop. Apparently that morning he had gone down to the shore himself and found nothing, not a trace of anyone had been there. Of them nor a woman. He had said to Simon in private that the tide must have eaten everything, yet Simon knew Price well enough to tell something was bothering him about it. 

In spite of hangovers, the crew went about their daily business of upkeep and cleaning, quickly deciding to visit the pub as soon as it opened. By the time they were staggering back to the ship, it was well past 7 in the evening; with the sun about half an hour from setting, the men had felt silently rest assured of their eventless walk through the beach. As the group approaches the dock, they notice Price's pace in front begins to slow to a halt. 

"Captian?" Gaz calls, eyes scanning Price. Yet, the captain's eyes stay coldly locked onto the dock. 

Pushing past Soap, Simon takes a few steps closer, eyes intently trailing Price's gaze. There, on the top step of the dock, were Price's boots and lantern- shoelaces tied and delicately placed. The men stood in silence for what felt like an eternity, the captain's gaze intensely glaring down the dock. 

After a deep breath in, the captain lets out a strained chuckle, the crow's feet beside his eyes wrinkling under the forced smile. He turns his gaze to Gaz, who looks down the dock with a confused look. 

"You're right-" Price strains, smile draped across his face yet eyes void of such emotion. "Creepy."

Soap pushes forward, being the first to approach the dock. 

"The harpoon is still missing." He notes, turning back to face the group. The captain's lips pull into a tight frown before nodding and beginning to walk to the dock himself. 

Regardless of their previous plan- Simon imagines they'll be back in London sooner than they had anticipated. 

taglist: @blueoorchid @@hoe4myers @yjhariani -luvurwriting @lexi-zsy09 @galaxieshearme

[patchworkgargoyle]

Editor Eddie

Did I write this solely because of the pun? Yes. It was, however, inspired by me wearing my Hellfire shirt and getting ready to sit down and beta a Steddie fic, as well as @inairbinad's Petals in a Storm (which people should go read).

Anyway, here's some extremely fluffy and domestic older!Steddie, with Eddie as a genre fiction/horror editor, in 735 words! Extremely brief and vague mention of a monster eating something's guts.

---

Red-marked pages lay scattered everywhere, solely illuminated by the hulking, faintly buzzing computer monitor that took up a good half of Eddie’s desk. Lips pursed and eyes narrowed, he held up a sheaf of papers with one hand, the other holding his pen to his mouth while he gnawed on the end. He distantly thought that if he kept chewing the pen might break and he’d look much like the monster currently being described in the chapter before him, red dripping down its chin. It was the third time the author had used the word ‘viscera’ in the same paragraph, and while pens didn’t have guts he knew that the ink would probably taste just as bad as that would. But as the monster was, apparently, ‘gleefully gorging’ on the aforementioned viscera, it probably wouldn’t agree.

He put the pages back down on the pile in front of him and scribbled out a few notes – “less viscera, more… entrails, gore, innards perhaps!” – then hunched over the words to continue reading about how the creature turned its horrifying visage towards the protagonist.

Editing was, mostly, the best job Eddie's ever had. Sure, it could be a slog to wade through a sea of purple literary prose or a desert of adjective-less, action-less nonfiction. Those were part of the job (though he’d grown enough to admit that sometimes he found gems even outside his beloved genre fiction tastes), and something he had to endure before he could climb his way to the fiction department. This, though, a carnage-filled horror romp? This was his bread and butter, his home away from home, his shit. Hell, it had been his life once upon a time. Getting to help up-and-coming authors improve their craft with his own love of storytelling and his lived, horrific experiences was awesome. It was one of the things that made March of ‘86 worth the terror and pain and scars.

Eddie was still slouched over the chapter, making note of a few misspellings, and so fully absorbed in his work that he didn’t hear the door to the office creak open. Hadn’t even heard the knock that preceded it. What he did notice was the plate being slid directly on top of the paper, a flaky croissant placed right in the centre, and Eddie suddenly realised he was really fucking hungry.

“How’s my favourite Eddie-tor doing?” Steve asked.

Eddie’s head fell back with the weight of the agony the pun caused and heard a few vertebrae pop. Glaring, he said, “That pun wasn’t funny the first fifty times you said it, sweetheart.”

“I haven’t said it that much.” Despite his defensiveness, Steve still looked entirely too amused at himself, smirking down at Eddie. The hallway light backlit him, casting him in a near halo of soft warmth, contrasted by the pale glare of the computer screen that highlighted his face and caught on the few grey hairs beginning to show. 

Steve was gorgeous still, maybe even more so after over two decades together. Worry lines and laugh lines alike brought a kind of charm and dignity to his face, and just the sight of those silvery strands in his hair always got Eddie feeling emotional. They were proof they’d survived. That it was over. That they could grow old, safely and with each other. He called them mithril just to see Steve’s nose scrunch and eyes roll at his references. 

“Okay,” Eddie conceded, “maybe just forty times.”

Though he scoffed, Steve stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You’ve been locked away in here for five hours, babe, you should get up and stretch. Or at least turn on the light.”

“But overhead lights are the work of the devil, Steve, you know this. I can’t work under those conditions.” Eddie gave a shit-eating grin as Steve, with a deadpan expression, flicked on his desk lamp. “Oh yeah. Forgot that was there.” He had. Really.

“You’re so annoying,” Steve sighed, but Eddie saw the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You love it.”

The smile spread like the affection in Eddie’s chest at the sight. Steve bent down again, this time capturing Eddie’s lips in a sweet, slow, familiar kiss that made his toes curl just as much as any hungry, needy kiss would. Barely pulling back, Steve whispered, “Yeah. I do.”

[caspian-16]

Time to save them all, Chapter 2

June 1st 1978

Harry had been in the past for a month now and to be honest, it wasn’t going well.

Harry had set up a tent deep into the forbidden forest, far enough that even Hagrid couldn't accidentally bump into him. Covering the tent walls were every location he could think of where the horcruxes were. Most of them were easy, apart from three. The diary and Nagini were most likely with Voldy and Harry had no idea where Dumbledore got the ring. 

What didn’t help was the fact that he now had to carry around the diadem everywhere he went. He didn’t want to break into Hogwarts to get it so, when he arrived in this time he snuck out of the great hall, grabbed it and ran as fast as he could out of there.The thought of being seen by anyone terrified him, imagine what would happen if Dumbledore saw him or worse his parents.

However, by the state of him, it wouldn’t matter.

His hair had started to grow out and stubble resided on his face. Mud caked his boots and jeans, to the point you couldn’t see the colours underneath. His tank top had developed numerous grass stains, as well as his Weasley made cadigan. The Gryfindor sword constantly remained sheathed and strapped to his back at all times.

He didn’t have many opportunities to clean, as the nearest body of water was the black lake but it was too close to school and he had to only go when the students were sleeping and werewolf Remus wasn’t running about.

Harry had a plan.

It was a shit plan that could possibly lead to death but it needed to be done.

Once Harry destroyed a horcrux, Voldemort would be on to him. Luckily, this time he didn’t know who Harry was, so finding him would be difficult. It also helped that his number of followers hadn’t reached its peak yet.

So on June the first 1978, Harry was going to walk into the creepy, monster-filled cave, grab the locket and destroy it and the diadem simultaneously and if Harry was lucky (which for some strange reason he is, considering he has continuously been defeating one of the most powerful wizards ever, from the age of one and up) the combined blast from both destroyed horcruxes would give him enough time to flee.

Merlin help him!

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 Hours Later

Harry thought he was God!

Because it is physically impossible for anyone to survive what he had just gone through.

First, Harry had to get to the island, that was basically a giant fucking rock in the middle of the sea, where he had only been to once, had no fucking clue where it was, all without getting splinched.

Second, Harry then had to get into to the magic cave, row the boat to the stupidly placed pile of rocks, and drink the posion that made Dumbledore go fucking insane.

Thirdly, Harry then had to perfectly hit both horcruxes at the same time with a sword, all while being clawed to death by terrifying lake creatures, in the faint hopes it could possibly save his life.

So, Harry thought he was God!

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                  June 11th 1978

Harry had since moved from the forbidden forest and was now walking down the streets of Diagon alley. He was in desperate need for a hot shower and a decent meal so a night in the leaky cauldron was his best bet. 

The 70s were quite a fun time in Harry’s opinion. There were people of all genders wearing bell bottoms, heels and tight shirts with messy hair and lots of denim and leather. He imagined a younger version of his uncle Sirius wearing these muggle clothes and dragging the marauders to Bowie and Queen concerts, like he detailed in the future.

The wizard world hadn’t changed much. He still saw people in robes and pointy hats, mostly the same stores occupying the same places. The only difference he could find were the different quidditch players plastered on posters.

Although he was in a time before his birth, he felt comfortable here.

Harry could see the effects of destroying 2 horcruxs this early on in the past did. Deatheaters were becoming violent (more than they already were) and we're hunting down anybody who could possibly be connected.

He knew where the next horcrux was, with Bellatrix Lestrange. She wouldn’t have put the Hufflepuff cup in her vault yet, that would happen in a few days. Hopefully, he would be able to steal and destroy it while they were on their way to Gringots (as apperating there would be near impossible considering the curse on the item). 

Harry hoped luck would again be on his side.

[eliaskahtri]

A Lesson in Selkies || Marcus & Elias

TIMING: Current

PARTIES:@thenavysealkie & @eliaskahtri

SUMMARY: Elias takes a trip to the beach and strikes up a conversation with Marcus by asking if selkies are real. A lesson in the selkie ensues.

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

It had been a while since he had been to the beach. Being from California, he’d become accustomed to it. Living on the other coast, however, was a new feeling. Elias knew the water had to be too cold. At least, that’s what he assumed. Another thing from being from California, he was a wimp to the cold. Needless to say, he’d crossed winter on the east coast when it finally arrived and left him with a wake-up call. The sound of the waves calmed him, and he loved the smell of the ocean and the feeling of seaspray in the breeze. He still hadn’t found a place to live, so he decided to explore everywhere to find a place he’d like. So far, as close to the water as possible sounded like a good idea.

As he sat there, he heard footsteps behind in the sand behind him. “Do you think selkies are in these waters?” He asked, tilting his head from side to side, not knowing who it was standing behind him. “There’s a cryptid I would love to see.” Elias thought aloud, knowing he probably sounded like a lunatic as he said it out loud. “What do you think, you think seal people exist?”

Marcus looked over at the shoreline as he had so many times before. It wasn’t uncommon for the citizens of Wicked’s Rest to come to the ocean to clear their minds and unwind a bit. Typically, it was the same few people who frequented the beach, and Marcus had gotten to know them fairly well at this point. The person that he saw sitting at the shore now, however, was an unfamiliar sight. If this person had found a calming quality from the ocean just as he had, then maybe they were kindred spirits in a way. After all, he found most people that he saw at the beach were people he could get along with very well. 

As he went to approach the man sitting at the shoreline, he was surprised to hear the man speak without even turning to look at him. He had a moment of brief panic when he heard the word “selkie”. After all, selkies weren’t the most popular of the supernatural aquatic creatures. Why hadn’t he asked about a mermaid or siren or something? He had to appreciate that the man had his interest in selkies in particular, maybe he just thought seals were cool creatures. If that was the case, Marcus was certainly inclined to agree with him. 

“I’ve heard a lot of tall tales of seal people emerging from the sea. And in a town like Wicked’s Rest, I wouldn’t put it out of the realm of possibility. But I don’t know for sure if there are any in these waters. I’ve heard a lot more reports of sirens or drowngrs. The kind of aquatic supernatural folks that you don’t want to run into”. Marcus crossed around so that he was within eyeshot of the man who had not taken his eyes off of the horizon during their whole conversation. “For your own safety, I think it’d be in your best interest not to go poking around these waters too much. You might find a selkie, or you might find your death. We’ve had a lot of unexplained disappearances in these waters”. 

Elias had heard the rumors spread about the town, a lot of being going missing or turning up dead, but he was convinced those numbers just had to be exaggerated. But as soon as the stranger had said or you could die, that had him turning his head to look at him. “Oh boy, now that’s a conversation killer.” He remarked, giving the man a once over. “Elias.” He introduced, sticking a hand out to the man. “Seal people, mermaids, the occasional Loch Ness monster.” He shrugged, turning back to look at the water. “I’m sure they’re all explainable by science, but the idea of something out there like that is just so fascinating to me.” 

He sighed inwardly, knowing he was terrible at first impressions. Who just questions the existence of a rare creature to someone he hasn’t even looked at? Elias, that’s who. “Surprised you knew what I was talking about,” he added as he picked up a stone and tossed it into the water. “A fellow cryptid enthusiast or just someone who knows his fantasy lore?” He cocked a brow, a sly smile on his lips. Either way, he could appreciate it. He took a moment to take in the sea breeze and the smell of the salt in the air, letting all his troubles melt away.

All explainable by science said the man who looked like he was about to wet himself at the mere thought of seeing something supernatural. People like him were the reason so many people turned up dead or missing. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say. But he had to admit, he understood the man’s fascination. 

“I grew up on the coast of Oregon, I’ve heard a tale or two of mysterious seal people. What can I say, I was a curious kid so I did a little bit of research. Now I know a lot more about them than most people probably do. But don’t get me wrong, there’s a difference between folklore and reality.” 

Marcus wasn’t exactly concerned about the man finding out his own supernatural identity. After all, the man seemed a bit overly enthusiastic and a bit naive about the nature of tracking down and finding the supernatural. Certainly wasn’t a hunter, unless he was putting on the persona so he could let his guard down. 

“Besides, I’ve been a lover of the water since as long as I can remember. I figured it couldn’t hurt to brush up on what might be out there. And how about you? Just a strong lover of all things cryptid?”

Elias raised his brows as he spoke of Oregon. “A fellow west coast man, I see.” He responded with a grin. “I’m from California.” He then added, nodding his head a few times. He thought for a minute about how strange his dichotomy was between wanting to find a cryptid and wanting desperately to disprove the myth. He loved it but, at the same time, thought it was a complete hoax. Everything about his personality was confusing the more he thought about it. “Well, obviously. Just because I’d love to find the Jersey Devil doesn’t mean I think it’s real. But if it were a mutation on an otherwise existing animal or just some dude with a weird hobby, it’d be nice to get to the bottom of things.” He spoke as he picked up another rock and tossed it into the ocean. 

He thought for a moment about Marcus’s question. “Ever since I was a kid and my brother got me a copy of a book on cryptids, I was hooked. Back then, I thought they were real, of course. Being a kid with an overactive imagination, I was terrified of being whisked away by Mothman.” He looked at the waves in the ocean in front of him before looking back at the stranger. “I don’t know. I guess the idea of finding out something cooler than what’s actually out there would be exciting. I’ve always loved high fantasy, how cool could it be if the high fantasy concepts were actually out there, you know?” 

Marcus had been to California a few times himself, he actually really enjoyed his time there. The people he met were the same typical crunchy hippies that populated Oregon in droves, but these hippies also had the luxury of extreme wealth. Besides, he also loved the cuisine over there, minus the sushi of course. He had come to know the population there to be eccentric, which he figured was probably a good explanation for the man’s demeanor. 

“I guess I can see what you mean about wanting to find something more out there. I’ve just always been a bit content with what I know.” Then again, what he knew was probably enough to satisfy this man’s curiosity for the rest of his life. Other selkies, vampires, hunters, various fae, Marcus had interacted with them all. Some interactions were pleasant, others… not so much. 

“So what do you think about the seal people? Do you think they’re real or do you think that the oil spills mutated regular seals somehow? And as a follow up, do you think they’re friends or foes?”

Elias frowned at the question Marcus had posed, finding it rather odd and, quite frankly, really fucking random. “Uh, I think that if they were people, then they’re like anyone else; they could go either way.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Just like I think anyone would be, not just a selkie.” He narrowed his eyes, looking at the man with a strange look. “Which we’re both agreeing aren’t real, right?” He asked, unsure if the other actually thought they were real by the posing of such a strange question. 

“Yeah, they’re definitely not real, just like vampires and werewolves and fairies and all the other stuff isn’t real. They’re just monster stories made up to scare children.” He chuckled to himself. a weird question, indeed. “It’d make life a hell of a lot more interesting, but they’re just stories.” He shrugged his shoulders before tossing another rock. “What, you think they’re real?” He asked, knowing that if the other guy said yes, he’d completely judge him for it.

Marcus had absolutely no solid read on this guy. Just entertaining the thought that selkies exist and what he’d think they’re like and now he’s the weirdo. Fuck this guy. He really didn’t appreciate the tone that the man was taking with him. But on hearing the question he simply chuckled with himself and shook his head. 

“Well of course I don’t actually believe in them. Funny thing about selkies, in the original lore they were almost exclusively female. And if a man stole her pelt then she would be forced to stay on land and marry the man who stole it. Something old fisherman would tell each other in hopes that maybe they could entrap some poor creature into keeping their bed warm.” He said, hoping to come off as convincing. 

It was true that the first selkies who really started to interact with human fisherman were the more curious of the species, both male and female. But of course, the men on the land only took notice of the females, particularly what they could get out of them. Interestingly, the same rules did apply to male selkies, and there were more than a few lonely fishermen who were quite content to have a handsome young man keep them company as well. But somehow, mysteriously, those tales never found nearly the same level of popularity. 

“I was just speculating, trying to add a little wonder and mystery to our world. Just like you said”. 

Elias listened to the man explain some of the selkie lore he had never heard before. He only knew of selkies, not so much about them otherwise. Still, he found it interesting. “You sure know a lot.” He spoke, genuinely surprised. “If you ever need someone to give you facts on Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, I’m your guy. Not so much a selkie expert. But they sure would look cool.” He paused, thinking about it for a moment. “Oh, and being a seal? That sounds pretty good, too,” he admitted. Seals were the dogs of the sea, and it excited him tremendously.

He thought about what it would be like to be forced at sea with some creepy dude for the rest of his life, then shook his head in disgust. “Honestly, being stuck with someone just because they stole my pelt sounds awful.” He made a face, shaking his head. “As interesting as it would be, I don’t think I’d want to steal someone’s important object. What else do you know about it? What happens when it’s stolen? Are they in trouble?” He loved learning new folklore facts, especially now that he was certain the man was just a fellow enthusiast, just as he was.

The man had obviously not intended to strike a nerve, but Marcus couldn’t help but feel a bit of anger flare up at the mention of stolen pelts. What would happen? He was living through what would happen, and dreaded what would await him down the line if it wasn’t reclaimed. Even in just a month or so, he had become a shell of himself. Sure, outwardly he still appeared the same. But he could feel himself becoming much less balanced mentally, and growing far weaker physically. 

He often wondered at night what the thief wanted with the pelt in the first place. He remembers the scent of his pelt taking an impossibly long cut through the ocean going up the coast, far longer uninterrupted swim time than any regular human could muster. It was almost as if the pelt was used to transform, but humans couldn’t use it. Nowadays, the whole “marriage entrapment” angle has fallen out of fashion. Definitely for the better. Instead, people sell the pelts on the black market for a very hefty sum. He shuddered at the idea that some random fae had absorbed all of the magical energy from the pelt and rendered it largely useless, although he had to acknowledge turnabout's fair play. 

“Well, if a selkie is without his pelt for too long, he starts to…deteriorate, let's say. The pelt that allows them to enter their seal form is just as much a part of their identity as their own human skin. That’s why so many, allegedly, don’t have a choice in those old folk tales. If it goes on for too long, they can even die. Obviously not the route many want to go. Their only way to stop this from happening, if they don’t want to reclaim their pelt from whoever stole it, is to…” he trailed off slightly as a sudden realization hit him. “...steal a pelt from another selkie”. 

Elias listened as Marcus talked, genuinely interested in his knowledge of selkie lore. What he had started off as a random comment had turned out into finding someone that genuinely shared in the knowledge he had, if not surpassing it entirely. The idea of being forced into a marriage because of having their pelt sounded terrible. And losing it, only to begin deteriorating? That sounded even worse. Whoever created the folktale really wanted to make them suffer as much as possible. Then again, writers really liked to do that. 

He watched as Marcus’s expression seemed to turn to one of vague enlightenment, which both amused and confused him. “So selkies can steal from each other if someone steals theirs? Sounds like an endless cycle of pelt stealing,” he mused aloud. Yeah, he was definitely sticking to the theory that writers were sadists. “The people that made these tales about selkies really seem to like to make them suffer a lot,” he mused aloud, looking over the waves with a shake of his head. “Hopefully, there are happy facts about them too. You know, to balance it all out.” 

He thought about what he knew about selkie folklore, most of it confined to being seal people. Yeah, that was about all he knew. “You look like you just figured something out. “He commented, looking the man up and down for a moment. “You writing a story on selkies and just figure out your good plotline? Because it’s a good one. I encourage your writing endeavors.” He rambled, running a hand through his hair.

Marcus couldn’t help but be amused at the man’s reaction. Of course it wasn’t all gloom and doom, but the way he was talking about it sure made it seem that way. He chalked it up to what he referred to as seal withdrawal symptoms, irritability and negativistic outlooks were always the first inconveniences to pop up. He thought back to his time cutting through the ocean as a seal and feeling so free. There are so many wonders of the sea that a regular human just can’t appreciate the way a selkie could. 

He cracked a smile, probably for the first time in the whole conversation he figured, and said “Well of course there are happy facts. Being able to turn into a seal at will and just glide through the ocean uninhibited, it’s one of the best feelings in the world. At least, I would imagine it is. Not having to worry about roads, or traffic, or any obstacles other than the occasional garbage pile of course. Although there are a lot of those floating around. You gotta figure if selkies did exist they’d probably mostly have all suffocated on plastic by now”. 

The man in front of him figured he was writing a story, which made sense. Why else would somebody know so much about a creature that they didn’t even believe to be real? Still, he figured he may connect with him better if he went down the “enthusiast” path. “I was just debating in my head a little selkie ethical issue. I mean, it’s pretty messed up for a selkie to steal the pelt of another just because they lost theirs, right? I mean sure it’s a life or death situation, but you’re practically condemning somebody else to death just to save your own skin, right? Well that’s just not okay, at least in my opinion. NOW, if the selkie who was stolen from were to steal the pelt back, that wouldn’t be wrong, right? I mean, it was THEIRS to begin with. So at that point I kind of figure all bets would be off. Assuming something like that were to actually happen, which of course it wouldn’t. Because there is no such thing as selkies. But if there were, then it would be perfectly fair for the selkie to reclaim what’s rightfully theirs.”

“I’ve gotta ask, are you writing a book or something? You seem to know a lot about it. Got caught up in it as a kid, and it became a sticking point? Because man, do I have a few of those.” Elias felt himself rambling on about the fact that he had definitely been in the guy’s shoes. “Personally, cryptids and anything to do with nerdy anything.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Specifically fantasy,” he then tacked on. 

He listened to the man go on about swimming through the ocean, and it felt as if he was almost visualizing himself in the roll. “So you must be a swimmer then,” he concluded with a nod of his head. “No one just fantasizing about swimming like that unless they are one.” He finally patted the side of the pier beside him, his feet dangling over the edge, letting the waves hit his feet. “I’ve always been a terrible swimmer,” he confessed with a shrug of his left shoulder. “But I can imagine the change in how gravity feels makes it feel like you’re in another world.” He frowned, now thinking about all the plastic and garbage that had polluted the water over time thanks to good ol’ mankind. 

The way Marcus kept stating that selkies weren’t real, as if he needed to convince himself they weren’t, made Elias feel a bit on edge. It was strange, but he really couldn’t be one to judge. He had definitely had his fair share of crazed rants on something fantastical. “So this selkie’s gotta take back what’s his!” He proclaimed as he clapped his hands together, completely convinced that this had to be a story he was writing. He was just too into it otherwise. “He has to embark on a noble quest to reclaim his property or die trying,” he pointed to Marcus, brows raised. “That’s a good plotline.” 

He thought long about how the man kept insinuating that they weren’t real. But… he could suspend his disbelief for but a moment. “If this selkie that isn’t real were to need help from a completely wimpy and not at all lame human as a sidekick, I’m always here to lend a hand. If to be nothing but a lookout, that’s cool too.” He shot a wink at the guy, convinced he would make an excellent side character in Marcus’s book. Oh yeah, it was all coming together.

Marcus couldn’t help but wonder what exactly this guy was getting at. Was he asking to help him confront whoever took his pelt from him? Did he know he was a real selkie? The poor man would get himself killed doing tagging along, no way could he even consider it. This was personal, something he needed to do on his own. But he didn’t even know where to start. The trail went cold once he got to Wicked’s Rest, and he hadn’t been able to track the scent since the day he arrived in town. Either the pelt was long gone, or it was in town being very carefully guarded. Marcus hoped that it was the latter. 

“I’ll have to keep that in mind. Readers love a good ‘strong action hero and nerdy sidekick’ buddy cop type duos. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure nothing happens to the sidekick by the end. Thanks for giving me the idea! Unfortunately, I have to run and plot these ideas out a little bit more. But I’ll see you around! Always good to meet a fellow cryptid enthusiast”. 

And with that, Marcus headed back away from the shore and towards town, leaving the man to sit on the dock. He had a lot of work to do.

[flownintothesun]

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    [ 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 ] : 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤. ( 𝐢.𝐞., 𝐞𝐲𝐞 ��𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐭𝐜. ) / 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐲?

                      ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───  𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.   ( @smokedanced )

        "𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄, 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊, 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖..." Westley says, gesturing with his arms at the woman in his motel room which is somehow the least strange thing that’s happened to him today. Would be a whole lot less strange if they were both naked and not talking about fuckin’ — creatures. His throat’s starting to hurt, but no matter how much he carries on about this, talking himself in circles, he can’t make it make sense. Then, there’s not a whole lot in his life that actually does make sense when he thinks about it. What’s he supposed to know about fate and destiny if he doesn’t even know where he was born or who his parents were? Doesn’t mean he wants to be approached in fuck-all middle of nowhere by some otherworldly thing with a grudge who insists that they play hero and villain. Westley doesn’t want to be either. He wants to stay the hell out of it.

     “I told you already, it...just...came out of fucking nowhere spouting some shit about ancestral curses.” It had wanted to know if he was a so-called 'monster' or a 'hunter'. And, y’know, kind of hard to answer those questions when he hadn’t known that either of those things had existed prior to today. And people say the ocean’s full of the unknown. Probably just haven’t run into whatever the hell that thing was that this lass had saved him from. “I don’t know anything about it. I’m just — look, I’m not even —” If there’s a curse, it’s just... him. Pulled out of the sea, should’ve died — can’t remember a damn thing before that. “Look, I sail, that’s what I do. Ships and stuff? I’m only here because my capt — my da’, he’s dead. I came to bury him, not to nearly get killed by some urban legend lookin’ thing, if it’s all the same to you. What you do — hunt monsters — yeah, great. You keep doing that. I just...don’t want to be a part of it.”

[stcrmborne]

Starter for @riiese || Rhaya & Ingvar It had been quite some time since she’d pushed herself this hard. Maybe it was because the most rigorous climbing she ever really did was scaling up rigging, but in her mind she still couldn’t grasp how hiking across some rocks up the side of a hill (see: really big mountain) was different enough to make her this winded. The reward that waited at the end would be worth it, though. It wasn’t often that greed drove her to stupid feats. But there was always room to grow and try new things, eh? A monster lived here. A large, fierce humanoid that skulked down from the mountains every several days to poach the livestock and tear up the crop fields of the farmers living on the outskirts of port. That’s what one of the bounty hunters had told her, keying her in on the handsome reward promised to whoever could bring proof of the creature’s death. The notion of a giant or troll in this area was unheard of, the existence of such creatures usually only found much farther north. People here were used to threats coming from the sea; it was no wonder such a panic had been stirred up when they believed something to be pincering them from the opposite direction. She was doing a good thing helping these people, Rhaya had told herself after accepting the job. The money certainly was an incentivizing bonus though. Boy was it, she thought as she clambered up another large boulder, her breath coming out in sharp bursts now. God, why did mountains suck ass so much? Rocks were bullshit. Big rocks even moreso. She wouldn’t be up here if she hadn’t found the eroded remains of what looked to be massive footprints earlier that morning, the tracks seeming fresh enough. The higher she got the more emboldened the young druid grew, finding promising signs that seemed much more recent and therefore spurring her past the fatigue that dug into her muscles. After another few moments of puffing her way up and through a narrow game trail she paused, her peripheral catching a shadow that didn't match with the movement of the underbrush or the trees that loomed higher up. No, that had definitely been movement from something large further ahead. Something significantly bigger than whatever animals lived up here. With a newfound burst of energy conjured from seemingly nowhere the young druid took off like a shot after it, paying little mind to just how narrow and hazardous the paths had grown up here.

[sekhisadventures]

For Quel’thalas

Dalaran, the Legerdemain Lounge

Nelen sighed as the meeting resumed, Chromie having returned to the Dragon Isles with a promise to contact the members of Avalon and Savage Untied should Nyloc make a reappearance, but for now his trail had gone cold. He could be anywhere, and given that he was a Chronomancer and working with the Infinite Dragonflight, he could be anywhen as well.

“Right… so… that’s essentially what happened.” finished Nelen, bringing the rest of his allies up to speed. The only member in absentia was Sekhi, the vulpera having returned to Orgrimmar after their last timeline jump. None of them begrudged her however. Visiting a timeline where her family had fallen to a monster like Dissonantia was a horrible experience, she needed time to process what had happened and to be around her family in this timeline.

“Bloody fel… that’s quite th’ tale lad.” rumbled Dareley, “Still, a world where Arthas returned to th’ Light. I woulda liked ta see that one…” he smiled a bit sadly. Dareley would likely have a grown-up son or daughter in that timeline. Had the Scourge not come to Lordaeron City, his wife and unborn child would still be alive and born respectively.

Jaie sighed, “Yeah. It was really something, seeing my dad again…” she nodded, “But… I don’t think I’ll tell my mom this one. It was hard on her finding out I heard his voice in the Shadowlands. She told me she didn’t want Sekhi to help her hear him, so… yeah… I’m just going to let it go.”

Shalandrae frowned, “That last one bothers me. Dissonantia came back and was the avatar of an Old God? Can she follow you back here?” she asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.

Nelen shook his head, “Chromie said she couldn’t. Y’shaarj had some nasty powers, but none of them involved controlling time. It shouldn’t be possible… but… well… here’s hoping.” he shrugged awkwardly.

The group nodded at that, then Mola’raum leaned forward from his spot on the wall. He didn’t sit down for the meetings, the chairs were always too small for his lanky body. “Wut about dis ‘Nyloc’ mon? He froze us all in time ‘n tried ta gib ya. Wut be stoppin’ ‘im from doin’ it again?” he asked.

Nelen nodded, “Chromie told me, before she left, that she would visit Avalon House and Savage United Headquarters and set up some sort of temporal protections so that he can’t do that to us there. Its not a guarantee, but it should help.”

Zhan-min let out a harrumph, drinking down a mug of ale as he did, “Well I sure hope so! Th’ idea of someone knifin’ me when I can’t even see it comin’ ain’t exactly a comfortable one.”

Nelen nodded, “Still… that’s just a more personal problem for us. We still have to worry about those dreams we’ve all been having.” he pointed out, returning to the reason they had all gathered in Dalaran in the first place.

“Yeah… us hearing Azeroth’s voice… and this ‘Harbinger’ creature.” frowned Nitika, “I wonder, just how far are their voices spreading. Who else is hearing them?” she murmured.

Samantha leaned forward onto her elbows, “Anyone who is powerful enough magically, or connected to the Void somehow most likely Nitts.” she pointed out, then glanced to her side as her hair-tentacles twitched.

She and Annulus had a horrible suspicion that Nyloc may not be their only concern soon…

Oribos, the Shadowlands

Above the Eternal City floated the golden form of the Arbiter. Once a mere aspirant Pelagos had become so much more, taking on the role of the central figure to the realm of Death as he guided all who were brought there to their just rewards in the infinite realms of the Shadowlands.

However, when he took up the duties he hadn’t quite realized just how many souls that was. He was a dedicated arbiter and took his role seriously, but there were countless worlds in the Great Dark and people died every day. Some of the souls had been there for quite some time.

Swirling around him amid the sea of spirits awaiting judgement was one who was… well… probably bound for Revendreth or perhaps Maldraxxus, somewhere along those lines. He accepted this. He had no illusions that he was not exactly a good person. He had killed, for coin and for duty, but that was his life. For now he was content to let the stream carry him along. After all that had happened it was almost… peaceful.

… but such things were not meant to be.

With a small whisper the soul vanished… but there were so many that Pelagos didn’t even see it. Like a single ant vanishing from an army.

A Hidden Cellar in the Eastern Kingdoms

Pain, screaming, more pain, his body shook and thrashed as his nerves flared in agony! He gasped, his eyes screwed up and his jaw gritted so hard he could feel his teeth grinding.

Finally he jolted, his back arching before he fell still. “W… what… where…” he looked around. This was not the Shadowlands. This was… familiar…

He looked down at himself and saw, on his side, two massive gashes from a pair of daggers sewn tightly shut. “No…” he whispered, sitting up, then feeling over his face.

His skin was cold and his sense of touch was muted. Then he saw a mirror on the far wall and he let out a gasp of horror.

His face looked back at him, pale as death with eyes glowing a baleful red. “No… no!” he shouted, scooting back.

“Yes.” came an aristocratic woman’s voice.

His head snapped around, looking at the source of it. Standing there was a sin’dorei noblewoman in resplendent robes of red and gold, a set of three spheres radiating icy cold hovering around her head. At her hip was a sheathed dagger, and her other hip had a book of spells hanging off a harness built into her belt.

“Alalestria…” he whispered, “What have you done?!” he demanded, scrambling to his feet.

“What I must, to defend Quel’thalas. I did not give you leave to abandon your duties Sinranir.” she replied icily.

“Abandon… I DIED ALALESTRIA! I was done! Ended! Over! This…” he looked down at himself, but there was no mistaking it. He had seen Sylvannas plenty of times before she had been banished to the Maw, he knew exactly what she had done.

He had died, but now he was back from the dead. A Darkfallen. An undead elf.

“Have you lost your MIND?! You would use the magics of the SCOURGE of all things?!” he shouted at her, his crimson eyes narrowing in fury at what had been done to him.

“You did not see what I saw Sinranir.” she glared. “The ren’dorei are a greater threat than even I imagined. You will take up your daggers for House Wintersky once more.”

At this, the undead rogue smirked, “I think not. When I died your father’s geas died with me. Find yourself someone else. I wash my hands of this.” he sneered, making for the door. He got all of two steps before Alalestria gestured and pain shot through his body, the elven man falling to his knees with a gasp.

“Father’s geas is gone, yes… but I raised you from the dead Sinranir. Do you truly think I would not take measures to ensure that you would perform your duties?” she frowned at him, arching an eyebrow.

He hissed through his teeth, his eyes narrowing to crimson slits… but he couldn’t even reply in this state. Alalestria had him, whether he liked it or not.

She held him for a moment longer, then released him. “Now. We have armor and weapons prepared in the room across the hall. Go collect them and return to your quarters. You will have your orders in due time.” she nodded curtly, pointing to the door.

Sinranir got to his feet and glared at her, hatred for what she had done to him in every line of his face, but after a moment he nodded. “As you wish, Lady Wintersky.” he spat, leaving the room.

She watched him go, then frowned. She was not exactly happy about this either… but the dreams. That elven woman with the purple hair and eyes that glowed with the dark power of the Void.

Yes, Sam'ael and the ren’dorei must be dealt with, and soon…

Next Story

Previous Story

[triforceangel13]

A Sea of Green and Red Ch. 2 (A BakuDeku Mermaid Au)

Chapter 2: Motions

“What do you mean you won't help?” came a shrill voice of a pained mother. Her tail thrashed in the water around her, tears bubbling around her as she tried to control herself. “My son is out there somewhere! Those pirates took him! You're the king!”

King Enji “Endeavour” Todoroki gazed down at the plump mermaid before him. She was meant to be a future family relation when his son Shoto, married her son Izuku.

Clearly that was not happening now. Izuku had been taken by the latest pirate attack, no sign of him returning any time soon.

Yet no one moved to find him. They were continuing on as if nothing had happened. The only ones that had been upset by the choice of action were Shoto and Izuku's mother.

It was too dangerous to go after the pirates dspite their numbers out numbered those pirates ten fold. They had the advantage of land.

Sure they could morph into human forms but most of them either didn't know how to or their land legs were nearly impossible to walk with.

“I am protecting my people Inko,” Enji said to her with hard blue eyes. “You would do well to think about what you're asking. And do not dare to raise your voice at me again.”

Inko sobbed shaking her head. How could he do this? The old king and queen from when she was younger would have made sure to send out a search team for Izuku the moment he was taken away. Yet here the king sat on his throne not even making an effort to find one of his people.

“He was meant to marry Shoto,” Inko said. “Doesn't your son wish to go after him? Wouldn't you even let him go after him?”

“I forbade my son from leaving our kingom,” Enji growled at her. “I am going to start the process over to find him a new suitable mate to extend our family line.”

“You monster...” Inko sobbed, swimming back a bit when the guards moved a little closer to her. “He was nothing but good for the kingdom and your son. And you just tossed him away like a rotten kelp bed.”

“Leave,” Enji demanded, gripping the sides of his throne and his own tail starting to flick back and forth in anger. “Unless you wish to spend a night in the dark caves with the eels and the sharks down there?”

Inko shook her head, swimming her way out of the throne room.

What was she going to do? She didn't even know what way they had taken her precious son. And what could she do? She was one mermaid, she wasn't strong and didn't even really now how to defend herself aside from basic insticnt that came with other creatures of the deep.

She couldn't go out there alone. All she could do was sit there and wait for news about her son, if she even got any.

“Lady Inko,” came a soft voice. Inko whipped around, spotting a familiar head of white and red hair. Shoto Todoroki.

“Shoto..” Inko said, trying her best to give a wavery smile at him. It was no use. Everyone knew just how upset she was.

“I'm so sorry about Izuku,” Shoto said, offering some comfort to her when his father had none. He knew he fobid him...that didn't mean he got to control him.

“I'm sorry too,” Inko said. “He was taken the day of your wedding..I don't know what to do Shoto. My poor baby is out there all alone.”

Shoto rest a hand on her shoulder. “I'm going after him. I saw which way the ship went. I'm not going to let him go.”

“But your father-”

“My father does not rule me. I will not let Izuku go,” Shoto stated. Inko looked to the younger merman and gave a small smile for the first time in the past few days.

“I'll come with you,” She said.

“No, it's too dangerous,” Shoto said. “Just know though that I will bring your son home and happy to you.”

“Thank you Shoto,” Inko said, giving a brief hug.

*

Izuku lifted his head up from the bottom of the tank, moving to stretch and met with the the sides of the tank.

Days he had been in there. Days he had been cramp into this tank. The water was getting murky and his stomach was starting to growl hard.

He hadn't eaten in days.

All he received were fish heads thrown into his tank. He refused to eat them and eventually they were taken back out, leaving him locked up again at the bottom of the tank.

He was so out of it and so weak he wasn't even sure who had been taking the food out. Some man that looked as if he was covered in green scales would be the one to bring him the fish heads that he refused to eat.

He pushed himself up, trying to push his head up a little bit out of the water near the top. It was hard to even see in this water.

Though as his head breached the water the lid to his tank opened up.

He let out a yelp, shoving himself away only to see the blonde again wth those piercing red eyes. It was his fault he was in this mess.

“Wrists,” the blonde snapped. Izuku scowled at him but didn't expect him to reach into the water and grab him by the wrists.

Izuku tugged but wasn't able to get his arms away.

A rope was tied around his wrists and he scowled as he was tugged forward.

“You're filthy. He wants you clean,” the blonde grumbled, lifting him with ease out of the water. Izuku tried to wiggle but it was no use. The guy was too strong and from his lack of food he couldn't fight back.

Maybe he should be eating but then again...fish heads weren't exactly appetizing.

He was carried from the tank and Izuku couldn't help but flush a little bit. Up this close to the man he couldnt help but think he was...very handsome.

Even with that scowl on his face and that he was being more or less a jerk.

It almost made him think his captor wasn't so bad. Almost. But this was the worst case scenario that he could have been in.

Was everyone looking for him at home? Was his mother alright? This probably had her worried sick to the bone.

His thoughts halted right away when he was dumped into a basin of water. The water was cold and it had him shivering.

“Hey!” Izuku snapped at him.

“Had to stop your mumbling some how. Plus you need water so I can clean this,” Katsuki growled. “Can't believe I've got this duty.”

Izuku frowned. Not only was he being tossed around like some fish but he also had mumbled again in front of someone.

It was something he was self concious of and even his husband to be had told him that it was a little annoying from the small moments he had heard him.

But this blonde man was the one that was taking care of him? He wasn't doing a pretty poor job of it that was for usre.

Izuku rubbed his shoulders a bit. At least he got some fresh air and he got some fresh water as well to soak his scales in.

He watched him quietly as he moved, dumping the water into various bins and then replaced it with fresh salt water.

Though once he was done Izuku's stomach growled loudly.

“You're not eating,” the blonde stated.

Izuku glanced away. The man didn't deserve to hear him speaking at all but he knew that this wouldn't last long. He'd get him to speak.

And from what he knew he figured this pirate wasn't going to try to steal a kiss from him. That would go against what his captain wanted as far as he could tell.

“You need to eat,” he said, coming over with a bucket of what he guessed was fresh fish heads from their latest catch.

A grimace crossed Izuku's face and he tugged his tail closer to himself in the small tub. Katsuki stared at the bucket a moment and then sighed.

“No wonder you won't eat this. Even we won't,” Katsuaki grumbled as he set the bucket down. “We need to get something in you.”

“I will not eat. I'd rather die,” Izuku grumbled.

“That's not going to happen,” Katsuki snapped. “So it's either you eat something else or they're going to force those fish heads down your throat.”

Izuku paled a bit, a small whimper coming out of him. The blonde let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Acting like this was not going to get him anywhere. And if he planned to get him out of there he needed to try to at least start gaining his trust.

“Here,” Katsuki said as he reached into the satchel that he left near the stairs to their bottom level of the ship. He pulled out something covered in cloth. Unwrapping it Izuku was shown something that he had never smelled before.

Bread and cheese.

“This was my lunch but I can always get more or something,” Katsuki said to him. “I know this isn't what you're used to but you need to eat to gain your strength back.”

“What is it?” Izuku asked him. “And why do I need it? I'm being held against my will in this place. I don't even know how far my home is.”

Katsuki sighed. “If you want to get out of here in one piece you need to listen to me, and only me. Now eat. This is called cheese. It's made from milk of an animal. This is bread, made from flour and other stuff. I don't know.”

Izuku carefully reached his tied hands out and took the pieces of food in his own fingers. It did smell good actually.

“Why are you helping me?” Izuku asked softly, a little hesitant to eat the food that had been given to him.

“It's my fault you got into this mess,” Katsuki grumbled. “I was trying to let you go. One look into you....either way I wanted you to go.”

All this time he was trying to help him to let him go? But how could he trust him? He didn't even know the guy's name.

For all he knew he might be trying to get him to take his guard down and take the kiss for himself once he got away from the captain and the rest of his crew.

He still had to be on guard.

“I was scared,” Izuk said carefully taking a bite of the food together. Flavor burst over his tongue. He had never tasted anything like this!

He took another bite, filling his mouth with the deliciousness his stomach was now growling loudly for. The tension eased a little bit as Izuku ate.

“I'm going to untie you. Can I trust you not to attack me?” Katsuki asked.

Izuku hesitated as he took in the last bite. He gave a nod. Katsuki reached to untie his hands and then leaned down to scoop him up to carry him back towards the tank.

He was settled back into the fresh water but the lid was left open as Katsuki looked like he wanted to say something else.

“Name's Katsuki,” he said. “You got one?”

“Izuku,” he said but it was drowned out by the sound of the door oepning at the top of the stairs.

“Oi, Bakubro, you down here?” came a voice.

“Shit,” Katsuki grumbled. “Gotta close it.”

Izuku swallowed but allowed him to close the lid.

“Yeah, just checking on our...guest,” Katsuki said as he stepped away from tank. Izuku watched as he left up the stairs fingers pressed to the glass.

He was alone again.

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[crossroadsdimension]

Krile confirmed Cross’ fears: the bodies of the Scions were, in fact, taking a turn for the worse. They needed to get them back and fast.

Cross and Krile discussed things with Rammbroes briefly, and Cross carried back an “archon loaf” from Tataru that was apparently a foul-tasting food staple in whatever school the Archons had all been to.  (If eating that was a requirement, Cross was glad she didn’t have to go to the Studium and didn’t grow up in that city.)

The others were happy to get their delivery, at least (although Cross wondered if feeding Ryne a slice of it was a good idea), and the spirit vessels were proceeding apace, too. All that was left was to test them to make sure they would do as required, and then ferry everybody across the rift and back home.

...and find Y’shtola. She was still on the sea floor, poking around in the ruins. It wouldn’t do her any good if she wad down there and had an incident like Thancred had.

Unfortunately, she did have one. And Elidibus caught them unawares.

Elidibus’ attempt at a “trial” did less to make Cross think she was killing the people the Ascians had lost, and doing more to make her mad at Elidibus for trying to kill the people of today in order to bring back the people who had ceased to exist.

But then, as she was forced to fight copies of her friends as illusions set over monsters, that anger turned more to disappointment that Elidibus wouldn’t change his course, and pity. She played along, but she made it clear she wasn’t in the mood to play games, or let him mess with her perception of her friends and allies.

And when he came at her as Ardbert, well...Cross wasn't entirely sure, but she thought she felt a part of her soul surge up, and make her dodge his axe swings -- even catch a couple on her staff, which surprised the Ascian.

(”There!”

Cross turned and caught the blow that would’ve cut her spine in two on her staff, gritting her teeth at the force behind it.

“Hm?” Elidibus tilted his head oddly. “What--”

The Thunder III spell Cross had been charging lashed out, forcing Elidibus back to give her some space.)

The fight ended with Elidibus’ defeat, thank goodness, but then Y’shtola walked in, having freed herself, and brought up a theory that Elidibus confirmed.

He was a primal of Zodiark’s making, a creature built to facilitate salvation. No longer the person he had been before being put in the primal’s heart.

Elidibus left them after that, apparently having seen enough. Y’shtola needed to go back to the ruins to collect her things, since Elidibus hadn’t teleported her with everything in her possession, and left Cross in Emet-Selch’s Amaurott to mull over what had just happened.

...then something glittering caught her eye.

[endlesscacophony]

@ecclectricity​​ said: “What can I do?” - Felix to Dimitri

The voices echoed, bouncing off the walls of his inner mind, growing louder and louder, they wouldn’t rest - not even in the dark of the night, they would not. They shout and scream and beckon for him to avenge them, to cut down the lives of those who took theirs, who robbed them of their lives before they were through. ‘you know you know know YOU KNOW what you must MUST do,’ they rage, their anger palpable, as if he was feeling it himself. ‘you monster, you must kill them - ! Kill them! KILL KILL THEM KILL Take their lives now, you must!’ The voices overlapping in a pandemonium of screams throughout his mind, it was hard to make sense of, hard to handle when it was like this.

Most days it wasn’t, most days he was able to suppress the screams, the beckons for death by his hand, the vengeance of the dead was not something he allowed himself to focus on. But every once in awhile, despite his best efforts, Dimitri was crippled, shackled by the taunts and screams. No matter what he did, he was at their beck and call, unable to force himself forward, to focus on what was around him. He was lost in the sea of his own mind, even his vision was distorted, the edges faded and darkening more and more by the second. 

So he sat, head in hand, seated at his desk in his room, he did what he could to remain hidden, to steer clear of people as much as he could, at least until he was able to catch ahold of himself, the gather his bearings. ‘show them the monster MONSTER, BOAR, CREATURE you are!’ 

He gripped his head with his hand, as if the pressure would do what it took to keep them at bay, not even aware of the smallest of whispers that were escaping from his own mouth. “No, no, please, s - stop, stop -” His words fell on deaf ears, as the voices would not listen, would not allow him a single moment of reprieve, not an ounce of focus, not even when another went looking for him, finding him in his tent.

Dimitri hadn’t noticed Felix, not at first, no - he was caught, suspended by the goings on in his mind, unable to tear his focus away for even a moment. The whispers, both those in his mind and his own aloud, continued on in tandem, completely unrelenting, unfaltering until he was moved.

Two sturdy hands took hold of his shoulders and shifted his direction away from the paperwork he was attempting to figure out despite the battle raging throughout his mind. With several clarifying blinks, Dimitri’s hazy gaze finally caught sight of a familiar ferocious amber, but the ferocity was tempered and replaced with alert concern, a look that was ready to fight, to do whatever it took to stop whatever it was that was causing Dimitri to be like this.

“What can I do?”

The words joined the pandemonium, the voices latching ahold of it as if the words were his own, Dimitri winced, his gaze averting for a mere moment before he shook his head. He didn’t know how to answer that, he wasn’t sure what could even be done himself, much less what Felix could possibly do - it was bad enough for Felix to see him like this, how could he possibly request anything of him now?

“I -” Dimitri shook his head again, the act of which caused his vision to worsen and fade, his mind swimming as he suddenly grew nauseous. He squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to reorient himself against the crash of the tide surrounding him, “I - It’s fine,” He forced out finally, taking a steadying breath.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s fine, Feli - Felix, please - it’s okay. I’m fine -” The echoes were brought about in his own voice, through his own stammering of words that seemed to go beyond the King’s notice. His hand trembled as it settled on Felix’s own, attempting to give a light squeeze of reassurance. “I - I - just a minute - I just need a moment, Gl - Felix, ple - please -”

[sukunas-angel]

When The Clock Strikes Midnight Collab.

Sukuna x Female Reader

Little Red Riding Hood Theme.

Word Count: 2.4k

Trigger warnings: Non-Con. Please do NOT read if this bothers/triggers you. View at your own discretion.

Tags: NSFW, Non-Con, Little Red Riding Hood Theme, JJK, Jujutsu Kaisen AU, Sukuna x DFAB Reader, Predator x Prey Trope.

1.

It hadn’t always been like this.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the rumours had started, or when fear had spread like a vicious wildfire around the village. She remembered a time before the whispers and the unofficial curfew. She remembered a time when the sun used to shine, and life as she knew it was just plain ordinary.

There was a cursed spirit that supposedly lurked in the woods that separated the small village from her grandmothers cottage. She wasn’t sure when or how it had arrived, just that people who dared go near the forest were never seen again.

She had lost classmates, friends. Too many she knew went venturing into the forest, to never return again. Some of them were brave; searching for missing family and friends. And some were stupid, sneaking into the dense wood on dares in the dead of night. It didn’t matter their intention. Whoever entered the forest, never came back.

Y/N was neither brave nor stupid.

No, certainly not brave. Even now, her heart raced fiercely in her chest as she slowly trudged through the sea of amber leaves on the forest floor. Her hands were clammy and balled into tight fists inside the oversized sleeves of her red hoodie. Her breaths came fast and laboured, creating a white smoke in the cold autumn air. No, she certainly wasn’t brave at all.

She just felt guilty.

The fear and hysteria had gotten so severe in the village that no one dared deliver groceries to her grandmother anymore. It had been almost 5 days since all ventures into the forest had stopped completely, and Y/N was certain her grandmother had to be slowly starving by now. She was far too old and frail to be foraging for food in the forest, and far too sickly to be going without proper nutrition.

Y/N wasn’t stupid.

She knew a journey into the forest meant certain death. She knew this, she really did.

But she couldn’t just let her grandmother starve to death.

She was the last bit of family she had. And starvation was such a slow and cruel death. She couldn’t handle the guilt, the overwhelming feeling of responsibility that weighed heavily in her chest.

So here she was, on a gloomy October morning, walking into certain death, with a basket full of groceries clutched to her chest.

It was almost funny.

No, it was funny. She giggled to herself. Actually, it was hilarious. She had ventured into certain death with nothing to arm herself with, but cans of soup. She giggled some more; perhaps she was dumb.

“How odd. They’re not normally crazy until after I’ve finished with them.”

Her body froze in place, and her eyes darted around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice. From what the village elders had told everyone, cursed spirits weren’t supposed to talk.

“No matter. You humans are always the same when you die. Snivelling, pathetic little shrimps right until the last breath.”

The voice was closer now, causing the hairs on her arms to stand on end. She turned her whole body suddenly, whipping her head round to face the incredible evil that stood behind her.

What stood before her wasn’t what she expected at all.

She hasn’t expected a cursed spirit to look so human. The elders had painted them as such ghastly creatures, a terrible sight for anyone who could actually see them. But the entity that stood before her was almost attractive. Something so pleasing to the eye that, if she weren’t scared out of her mind, she might’ve found him incredibly handsome.

His pink hair complimented his red eyes perfectly, and his frighteningly tall figure was sculpted and muscled beneath the white robe he wore.

“Y-you’re human?” She questioned uncertainly.

He looked human enough. Sure, he had odd black markings on his skin but that could just be paint, right? The elders had insisted cursed spirits were monsters, incapable of speech and very unlikely to be seen by the eyes of ordinary humans.

“You can see me?” He seemed genuinely delighted at the prospect, a large grin splitting his face, revealing sharp, pointed teeth.

Teeth that certainly weren’t human.

She shook her head dumbly, averting her eyes in a futile attempt to pretend she was blind to the presence in front of her.

“You shook your head to my question, which means you can hear me too. What an interesting little human you are,” he almost cooed to her, stepping forward in curiosity.

She stepped back instinctively, with every fibre of her being screaming for her to run. She was in the vicinity of an apex predator. She was the prey, she was helpless. She knew this in her very soul.

Run.

Run.

Her brain was screaming at her to sprint, adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her muscles were poised, ready to contract, to move her faster than she’d likely ever moved before.

But she couldn’t move.

“Humans haven’t been able to see me in millennia. Not since those jujutsu sorcerers were still around.”

He was speaking to her again, smiling at her in malice. His cold red eyes appraised her form, smiling wider when he noticed how ready she was to bolt.

“What’s the matter little human? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckled darkly, stepping even closer.

“You know, most people would have ran by now. What’s the matter? Too frightened to move?” He taunted her, making her blood boil at his mocking tone.

“What’s the point in running? I’d be dead within seconds. I’d rather face my death head on. I’m not a coward.” She spat at him, her eyes a raging fire.

She could tell he enjoyed this. He enjoyed the fear he brought to people, the chase when they ran. And she was sure he enjoyed killing them after.

Though she was terrified, and her body screamed at her to run as fast as she could, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

His resounding laugh startled her.

“What an interesting little creature you are!” He laughed in delight, clapping his hands together with a large grin.

“But your little front doesn’t fool me. I can hear your racing heart, little girl. I can smell the adrenaline coursing through your veins. I can taste your fear.” His voice lowered and he stepped toward her again.

She backed up now, cursing herself when her back hit the cold bark of a tree. She should’ve been more aware of her surroundings. He was too close to try moving away from the tree behind her now.

She was too frightened to try move anyway, her legs shook and she slumped slightly into the tree trunk, her knees weak from fear. She wanted to be strong, to face her imminent death head on.

But she was afraid.

His large figure caged her to the tree, his arm coming to rest just above her head. He looked down at her cruelly.

“You. Are. Terrified.” He whispered in her ear. She whimpered in response, her head sinking into her shoulders in fear.

“You know,” he started, a hunger settling in his crimson eyes once again.

“There was a story that went around this village back when I was human,” Sukuna purred, drawing his face closer to hers so that their noses almost touched.

“About a poor little girl…” he grabbed her fragile wrists in his hands, pinning them above her head. She watched him through fearful, wide eyes.

He could feel her heart hammering in her chest. He had forgotten how pleasant and warm a woman’s body could be. She was ever so pretty too, her large doe eyes had drawn him in from the beginning.

“And a big…” he put his lips to her ear, grinning at how she shivered in fear.

“….Bad…” he licked the shell of her ear, revelling in her cry of fear.

“….Wolf.” Sukuna growled, pushing his body into hers, trapping her impossibly tight against the tree. He licked up her neck, moaning at just how good she tasted.

So sweet.

She tried squirming away from him; being pinned so tightly between him and the tree was almost painful. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, she couldn’t bear to look at the beautiful monster in front of her anymore.

“You’re delicious.” Sukuna whispered in her ear, nibbling on the lobe.

“Did you eat the other people that came into the woods?” She’d tried to sound strong, but the wobble in her voice betrayed her.

He pulled back to look down upon her coldly. His cruel smirk told her the answer to her question.

“Yes.” He affirmed, stroking her cheek with one sharp nail while his other hand kept her wrists pinned above her head.

Her knees almost gave way at his answer, as her breaths came out in frantic gasps.

So many people…

So many people had been eaten. By this human-like monster in front of her.

Oh, god. Y/N thought.

I’ll be eaten too.

“A-are you gonna eat me?” She breathed, looking up into his cold red eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Y/N didn’t want to die. She was too young. She had so much to live for, so much she wanted to do. She never even got to leave this damned village. She was born here, set to die here, without ever seeing anywhere else.

A wasted life. She thought miserably.

“No.”

Her eyes met Sukuna’s again in shock.

“Though you are delicious,” he grinned, his pointed teeth making her shudder.

“A human hasn’t been able to see or hear me in millennia. And here you are,”

“A pretty little girl, who stumbled so innocently into my territory,” he was whispering into her ear again, making her shiver.

“Who can see and hear me. Killing you would be a waste.” He nuzzled his face into her neck, groaning at how good she smelt.

“It’s been years since I felt the touch of a woman.” He told her, sucking lightly on her neck.

Her eyes widened as the meaning of his words dawned on her.

“No, no, no, no! No way…no way in hell will I…I’m not…I won’t be your whore.” She sputtered angrily, squirming wildly, trying to pull her wrists from his grip.

He dropped her wrists, stepping backwards. The grin on his face was feral.

“Such spunk for helpless little prey like you” he delighted.

“Let’s play a game.” He decided, a gleeful grin still playing on his lips.

“You’ll be little red riding hood,”

“And I’ll be the big, bad wolf.” He bared his sharp teeth at her, portraying just how wolflike he really looked.

“If you make it out of these woods before I catch you, you’re free.”

“But if I catch you, you’re mine.” He growled possessively.

“I’ll give you a little head start, it’s only fair. You’re such weak prey after all.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his posture undoubtedly relaxed.

Y/N knew he was certain of his inevitable victory.

She was sure he would win too, even with whatever ‘head-start’ he was so graciously going to give her. He’d single handedly pinned her against the tree like it was nothing, despite her using all her strength to squirm away. This ‘game’ of his was futile.

But, damn, she had to try.

She couldn’t just roll over and become someone’s whore.

She took off running, unwilling to hear him speak anymore. She thought perhaps if she ran and caught him off guard, she’d be able to put even more distance between them.

She could hear his loud laughter booming behind her, she’d never heard something so cold.

“Ten.” She heard him call, and she almost cried in response.

Ten seconds??

That’s what he called a head start?

She pushed herself harder, the muscles in her legs burning from the exertion. She wasn’t even sure the direction she was running in was the right one, she’d had no time to think. All she could do was run and hope that she reached the village in time.

“Nine.” He still sounded somewhat close.

“Eight.” His voice sounded somewhat distant now.

“Seven.” The end of the forest was nowhere in sight, but his voice was definitely fading.

“Six” she barely heard him, perhaps she’d put a decent distance between them now, she hoped.

She weaved in and out of the trees with an agility she never knew she possessed. The adrenaline pumping through her veins made everything clearer, focussed her enough to easily dodge stray roots and branches that would trip her or hinder her escape.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been, but she guessed he was probably chasing her by now. She just hoped she’d covered enough distance to escape him.

She didn’t hear him.

He was silent as he tackled her roughly to the ground.

Air was forced out her lungs in a gasp at the force of it, her dazed eyes meeting his as he pinned her roughly to the ground.

“No…no…” she breathed, tears pouring out her eyes.

He sat on her, his weight heavy on her waist, as he leaned toward her, her wrists being pushed painfully into the cold ground.

“I win.” He whispered into her ear, before licking it.

“No…” she whimpered as more tears fell.

“Yes.” He purred, nuzzling her neck again.

“You smell delightful.” He groaned again.

“P-please…” she whimpered, her chest heaving still as she gasped for air.

“And now the wolf devours it’s prey.” He growled, licking up her neck.

“You said you didn’t want to eat me!” She cried.

He chuckled, licking away a stray tear from her cheek.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He growled.

“I lied.” He grinned, as she cried out again, shaking in fear.

“However, killing you really would be a waste.” He continued.

He sat up again, keeping her arms pinned by her head still. He appraised her form again, smirking. Sukuna truly hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing something so beautiful in a long time.

“Good thing there’s more than one way to eat someone.” He chuckled.

Y/N gasped shakily as the meaning of his words dawned on her.

Sukuna pressed his lips against hers roughly, forcing his tongue between her lips. He groaned as he did, relishing how good it felt. How good she tasted.

Yes, there was more than one way to eat someone. She thought helplessly.

She wasn’t sure which way was worse.

[etherealbelphie]

Your Own Kind of Fun (Ft. Leviathan and GN! MC)

Warnings: Season 1 spoilers, descriptions of MC being uncomfortable at a loud and crowded party, implied drunkenness but not specified to be any of the characters, a couple makes out, mentions of MC/reader almost getting killed during the TSL competition, implied that Beel wants to eat MC, Levi being self-depreciative, mentions of Lucifer’s terrible punishments, Levi's got a crush on you, Mammon is kind of a jerk in this fic, one lil mild curse

Length: 1.7k words

Genre: Fluff, maybe a little hurt and comfort?

Summary: Mammon throws a party in his and MC’s hotel room, and MC seeks shelter in Levi’s room.

Alright! First Levi fic! I’m pretty sure this is the longest thing I’ve written for this blog, so that’s neat. Mammon is kind of terrible in this fic, so I apologize to him and his stans. (He's not being intentionally mean, he just didn't really think it through.) This is set sometime after the TSL incident. Lesson 16 hasn’t happened yet, so no Belphie. (uhhh not sure what happened to him while they were staying at the hotel, hopefully he’s alright-) As always, please let me know if I missed any warnings! Also, am I overdoing it with the warnings, or is it appreciated? Anyways, hope you enjoy!

-Ethereal (✿◡‿◡)

Story below, please don't claim as your own!

You know Mammon has a lot of friends, but this is just ridiculous.

He and Leviathan had gotten into a particularly heated argument two days ago, which apparently ended with the latter having summoned a sea creature and the entire house getting flooded. As a result, the entire House of Lamentation is now staying in a hotel.

Despite the fact that Lucifer said you could’ve each gotten your own rooms, Mammon had insisted on sharing with you, due to him being your first and all that.

On a normal day, you would’ve been annoyed with being treated like a piece of property. However, at that point, you had been woken up by a literal sea monster crashing through the halls at two in the morning, you were exhausted, and didn’t have it in you to argue.

Now you wish you had. It’s way past midnight, and your hotel room is full of strangers. You tried to convince him that throwing this party would be a bad idea, because Lucifer would be furious. The fact that this is about as far away from your scene as possible didn’t boost your attitude either.

The room is so loud your head is starting to hurt. You can feel the bass thumping the floorboards. Since the music is so loud, people have to shout to hear each other, not to mention that a lot of the crowd is starting to get pretty rowdy. You can’t even hear yourself think.

You’re honestly shocked that no one has made a noise complaint yet. You’re tempted to report it yourself.

Someone had brought a disco light, programmed to sync up to the music that was playing. It’s not helping your headache at all, that’s for sure.

You’re seated on the very edge of your bed, doing your absolute best to ignore the couple passionately making out beside you, and avoid the soda someone had spilled on the other side. On your bed? Seriously?

Mammon had left a few minutes ago to grab some ice, and you’ve got half a mind to kick everyone out. You really just want some sleep and some silence. You don’t want to be ‘that person' who spoils the fun, though.

You watch as a group of demons playfully shoves someone into a lamp, and cringe as it crashes to the floor.

You didn’t have to be the stick in the mud, but you’re certainly not going to stay here.

Making up your mind, you slip off the bed and weave through the crowd. You grab your suitcase on the way. You’d be missing your toothbrush that was (probably) still on the counter in the bathroom, but you’d have the rest of your stuff, at least.

Finally, you make it to the hallway. The door clicks shut behind you, enveloping you in silence. The room was surprisingly soundproof. That would explain why you hadn’t received any complaints.

Now you’re wondering what to do next.

You’d rent your own hotel room, but you still don’t have much grimm to your name. (At least, you don’t think you do. You’re still trying to figure out the conversion rates.) Obviously, asking Lucifer was out of the question because Mammon would be hung from the ceiling by his ankles in the lobby. Yes, he’s being wildly inconsiderate, but he’s still your friend and you don’t want to do that to him.

You’re not too sure what you would find if you went to Asmodeus’s room, but you know how he gets about his beauty sleep being interrupted.

You’re also not sure what would happen if you woke the Avatar of Wrath at this hour.

As for Beelzebub, you still aren’t sure he’s not going to eat you the moment you two are alone, and you’re equally sure you don’t want to find out.

Which leaves you standing in front of Leviathan’s door. You aren’t exactly sure where you stand with him. On one hand, he had tried to kill you less than three weeks ago, and keeps calling you a ‘normie’. On the other hand, since the competition, he hadn’t stopped spamming you with The Seven Lords theories and rants.

He has a notoriously terrible sleep schedule, so he’s probably still awake. Besides, he had literally just tried to kill you, so hopefully he’s gotten it out of his system.

You knock quietly three times just in case he’d decided to go to bed at a decent hour for once.

A moment later, the door creaks open, and you see one eye peek out at you.

“Password?”

“Um…the Lord of the Shadows is way better than the Lord of Fools?”

“Close enough.” The door swings open the rest of the way. “What’re you doing here…?” He trails off when he sees the suitcase beside you. “Uh…”

“Ah, right.” You shift awkwardly. “Um, I can’t stay with Mammon tonight. Would it be okay if I crashed here, Leviathan?”

“Why? Did you two get into a fight or something?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Not exactly…um, I don’t want to impose, though. I can go ask someone else, if you don’t want me to-“

“No, no, it’s not that!” He’s oddly defensive. “It’s just, I’ve only got one bed, so one of us would have to take the couch.”

“I’m good with taking the couch,” you answer. Truthfully, you want out of this hallway before Lucifer spots you, or Mammon catches you trying to ditch his party and tries to convince you to come back.

He pauses a moment, then steps aside and lets you in. Despite this being only your second night here, the room is already pretty messy. Empty food boxes and half-finished energy drinks are littered everywhere.

He’d set up some of his manga on the desk and brought multiple video game consoles with him that had been set up and are ready to go.

He’d even used thumbtacks to put up a few posters, which has to be against the rules. Even so, he really is passionate about his hobbies, something you find quite endearing.

You bring your suitcase over to the couch. You locate your D.D.D. and quickly text Mammon, explaining that you’d be staying with his younger brother for the night, so there was no need to panic when he couldn’t find you.

“It’s Levi, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“You called me Leviathan. I get you’re trying to be polite, but I’m only called that when I’m in trouble. So could you call me Levi?”

“Of course, yes.” You agree, pulling out your pyjamas. “I’m going to use the bathroom to get changed super quick, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, go ahead.” He grabs a bag of potato chips and settles down on his bed. “I’m, uh, just gonna go back to watching anime, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, do your thing!” You flash him a peace sign, then duck into the bathroom.

What the hell was that? You think to yourself. You know you’re not the most socially gifted, but that has to be a new level of awkward.

You change quickly, not wanting to hog the bathroom, then head back to your couch. Levi is intensely focused on his show, so you decide to leave him alone and read your book instead. You’re about to put on your headphones, but suddenly you pick up the audio of the show he’s watching.

Glancing at the television, you confirm your suspicions. He’s watching your favorite anime.

“Hey, I know this show,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“You do!?” Levi bolts upright, staring at you. “This is one of my favorites! Right after The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl, and of course the spin-off show with Azuki-tan, and I Was Eating Avocado Salmon Sushi at a Hundred-Yen Revolving Sushi Restaurant When Suddenly I Was Thrown Back in-“

“Which character is your favorite?” You don’t mean to interrupt him, but you’re more than game to talk about the show.

“It’s…” he waits a moment, then pauses. “This one! This show would be nothing without them! Hey, if you like this show, you should watch it with me!” He says excitedly.

“Really?” You ask, settling more comfortably on the couch.

“Yeah! No one I know has seen this, and it’s so good!”

“It is really good,” you agree. You wait for him to unpause the show, but he doesn’t. You glance back at him. He’s staring at you for no apparent reason.

“Um…Levi?”

That seemed to snap him out of it.

“I’ve got chips!” He declares loudly, holding up the bag. “You don’t have any!”

“Um…yes?” You agree. “Weird flex, but okay…?”

“Argh!” He brings a hand to cover his face. “I mean, like, you can’t get them.”

“I’m…um, not asking for any?” You point out.

“I mean you can have them! But not over there! You can’t reach them over there! Come here! "

His face turns even redder, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to spontaneously combust. You wait for him to calm down a little, to make sure he really meant it.

“…NVM. You don’t want to sit with an ugly otaku piece of trash like me-“

“Leviathan-“

“I told you not to call me that,” he whines. “I feel like I’m in trouble!”

“You are in trouble!” You say, standing up. “Don’t ever talk about yourself like that.” You cross the room to his bed, and wait expectantly. A moment later, he gets the hint and scoots over.

You sit yourself on the bed and grab a chip out of the bag.

“Are you going to start it?” You asked, and a moment later, he unpauses it.

At first, you two just watched the anime. Then you started talking about the characters, and the plotline. Eventually, the topic switches completely, the anime left playing in the background.

You start telling him about your life in the human world. About where you lived. About your friends and family. About your other interests. About you.

As much as he talks, Levi is a surprisingly good listener.

Of course, you don’t do all of the talking. In turn, he rants to you about his brothers. About his progress in various video games. About that one teacher at RAD who’s just so annoying.

You two are up almost the entire night, talking about anything that crosses your minds. The hours fly by so fast. In the back of your mind, you know you’ll regret staying up so late tomorrow morning, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Maybe you and Levi don’t enjoy yourselves at crowded parties. So what? Fun doesn’t have to be the same thing for everyone. You and Levi can have your own kind of fun.

[sunnybiscuit]

Reading “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea”

So I decided to bite the bullet and start reading more classic literature. I can securely lay the blame for this on Defunctland revealing to me how influential Jules Verne’s work was in the Disney parks and beyond (I’m still pissed about what they did to EuroDisney’s Space Mountain: From the Earth to the Moon and I’ve never even BEEN to Europe) and thought, “Hey, maybe something so universally influential, which has spurred the creation of many things I take interest in, could be something I plainly enjoy as well.”

So I went and found the book on gutenberg.org and started reading. Mind, this began on my lunch break at work today, so I haven’t had much time to read it today; as of writing this, I am in the middle of Chapter 10, where we are formally introduced to Captain Nemo himself. (Another spur towards reading this and more of Verne’s work was the age-old discussion of Nemo’s character, as he has been the subject of much analysis and interpretation given the mystery surrounding his true origins. I wanted to see what the fuss was about.)

I was pleasantly surprised at how effortlessly Verne’s prose reads - or at least, its translation read easily. It is thankfully lacking in the flowery descriptions I had dreaded. Intrigue is found immediately in setting the stage, as the sailing world is in an uproar over what appears to be some kind of strange, gigantic creature. No one can get a good enough look at it, with size estimates ranging between two hundred feet to three miles in length. More distressing is its apparent speed, as it seems to begin near Australia, winds its way around Africa and up through the Atlantic, and finally in the middle of the Pacific. This would have been fine if it hadn’t started brushing up against ships and started sinking them. (Given I know it to be the Nautilus from the outset, I am inclined to wonder if these were the result of malice or just bad driving.)  This leads people to two conclusions:  either this is a monster, or it’s being piloted by one.

In the middle of all this, a French biologist named Pierre Aronnax has just arrived in New York City, coming off what I think was an archaeological dig with armfuls of samples ready to go back to the French museum. Being a scientist with any authority on undersea life, having written more than a paper on the subject, he is of course asked to comment on it.

He says it’s a narwhal.

Granted, he is working under the assumption that narwhals usually reach 60 feet in length, which...no, they do not. From there, he simply posits that it’s a specimen of exceptional deep sea gigantism.  One, part of this is bullshit because that’s not how narwhals work. Two, part of this is bullshit because he’s mostly saying it’s a creature because affirming it to be some kind of submarine would suggest some military agency was creating a powerful new submarine without anyone noticing (and no mere gentleman of exceptional wealth could possibly do such a thing). Three, part of this is bullshit because he doesn’t actually want to give out an opinion on the subject and would rather just go home to France.

But as luck would have it, some Americans (because Verne would usually depict Americans in this way) had assembled a fine whaling ship to go after this beast and asked the professor to accompany them, on the grounds that his theory could be correct. And for some reason, Professor Aronnax agrees, and he and his manservant Conceil get on the Abraham Lincoln a mere hour before it departs for the Pacific.

And for the next several months, nothing happens, but the professor does meet a Canadian harpooner named Ned Land, which is exciting to him because at the time, Canada was still mostly Montreal, and that meant he spoke French. There’s no one the French like more than other people who speak French (and there’s no one more proud of being French than French Canadians).

And then in November, everything goes wrong. They find the beast, and then learn the fact that this thing GLOWS AND IS APPARENTLY ELECTRICAL. For the next several days, they pursue their narwhal, but in the chaos, the professor is knocked overboard, Conceil jumping in after him. They later swim across Ned, who helps them up onto this strange floating island made of metal...which starts moving.

Just as it starts sinking back down, they cause enough of a racket to bring the ship to a halt and have someone poke their head out the door...before yelping and promptly closing it again before sending out some beefy guards to bring them in.

They’re fed some unidentifiable-but-delicious food and approached by two figures who only speak to one another in an unknown language. The three survivors try to relay their story, first in French, then English, German, and then Latin, to no response. The two leave and the three are left to sleep it off.

Much later, in walks the Captain himself, who does not introduce himself...at first. He gives them a choice:  to stay and be free from the prison of society on the Nautilus, or to learn how long it takes a human body to tire out from swimming in the middle of the Pacific. Despite heavy protests from Ned, Aronnax agrees for the lot of them, and the Captain gives his name:  Nemo.

Well...that’s not really his name. All he says on the matter is, “To you, I am Captain Nemo.” “Nemo” means “Nobody” in Latin, which is the first hint as to our captain’s philosophy and the first question we are prompted with.

Who is Captain Nemo?