#between the salt water and the sea strands

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Iroh looked away when Ozai put a hand to his son’s face—but even as he did, he swore that he would never look away from Zuko again. After the (so-called) Agni Kai, Iroh helps the palace doctors care for his grievously injured nephew, resolves to accompany Zuko into exile, and makes a bargain.

Author: @philosopherking1887

[mikansei]

THIS PUN IS SO GOOD I’M SO MAD

ok so i'm either way off the mark linguistically or decades late to this realization, but:

urahara’s surname is spelled 浦原, which AFAICT is something kubo made up and not an actual surname. the kanji individually mean seashore/bay/gulf and field/prairie/grove (and origin, but not usually when it’s read “hara”). “ura” shows up in words like 浦路 uraji (coastal road), 浦風 urakaze (sea breeze), etc. “hara” as a suffix shows up in 桑原 kuwabara (mulberry field), 松原 matsubara (pine grove) (albeit with rendaku which is why it’s a B there and not an H)

anyway so “seashore grove” sounds like an oxymoron b/c prairies and groves are inland and the seashore obviously isn’t, right? and then it hit me: the other, MUCH more common word that’s read "urahara" is 裏腹 which literally means opposite/contrary

his name is multiple levels of contradictions!! THIS SCARBOROUGH FAIR MOTHERFUCKER lmfao i hate that this is so good and i'm only just now realizing it

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

hungry eyes | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick is a great cook, and a chef must taste-test all his meals, mustn’t he? including you.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), finnick is a munch and a thigh man, praise, swearing, cum swallowing, fingering

notes: i’m so sorry about the long-writing-time-to-short-word-count ratio. i don’t know if i like this ahhh. lmk what y’all think <3

word count: 3.5k

You were passing through the entry room of your house when the front door opened with a slight creak. Stepping through the doorway was Finnick, dressed in a white billowy Henley shirt (he had a few buttons purposely left open and the sleeves were rolled to his elbows) and a pair of dark grey pants. 

His hair was a windswept mess of bronze waves with different strands poking out in various directions, but he somehow made it work. He looked… 

Wow. 

You, on the other hand, were still in your pyjamas, wearing a pair of thin cotton shorts and cosy thigh-high socks. 

As soon as he entered the house, you could tell what kind of mood he was in. Drained. That tended to happen whenever he had to spend the day with his prep team and prepare for an upcoming event in the Capitol. 

His cheerless eyes found yours and you swore a spark of life flickered in them.

“Hey, Finn,” you said. “Are y—oh!” 

Before you could finish, he had wordlessly stepped towards you and collected you in his arms. Your feet left the ground as he picked you up and continued walking further into the house.

“What are you doing?” you gasped.

Your legs curled around his back, your body leaning into his chest so as not to fall backwards. He smelled really nice, like how you imagined sunlight hitting the sea on a warm summer’s day would smell. 

“Making something to eat,” he finally spoke. His eyes briefly flickered to yours. “I’m hungry.”

Well, you did send him off that morning with some of last night’s leftover crab cakes, so he couldn’t have been that hungry. Plus, he was with his prep team. They would’ve had plenty of fancy Capitol-esque food on hand to satiate him.

Weird.

“So that means I don’t get a hello?” you teased.

Finally, a small smile worked its way onto his lips. He leaned forward and pressed his lips sweetly and softly to your own, his hands not-so-sweetly squeezing the plush of your ass as he did.

He pulled back and gave you a mischievous look. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You smiled bashfully in response. “Hi.”

You had passed through the archway into the kitchen, the entire room now being bathed in sunlight from the four o’clock sun. It was the picture of a perfect beach house—driftwood and seashell ornaments, sand-coloured benchtops, and large wooden-framed bay windows.

Finnick set you down on the counter facing the stove, your legs now dangling over the edge. 

“You just had to bring me into the kitchen with you?” you asked.

He was already out of your arms, scouring the cupboards for various ingredients for whatever it was he was planning to cook up. 

“Gotta have something pretty to look at,” he said, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

Warmth crept into your cheeks. “Right. Obviously.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, apart from the clatter of a metal pot being set on the stove and the splashing of various vegetables and chicken stock being thrown into boiling water. Your legs swung lightly as you watched Finnick in quiet admiration. 

Steam wafted into the air, bringing with it a sweet herbaceous smell. You hated to admit it, but Finnick was an unbelievable cook; much better than you were. He was constantly offering to teach you his culinary skills which often led to the two of you spending hours together in the kitchen. Burnt and over-salted meals were a common result. Regardless, you enjoyed the time together.

Sometimes it even led to other things as well… things very unrelated to cooking.

Finnick seemed to hyper-focused on the soup he was stirring; he was being unusually quiet, making you wonder what was going on inside his head. Had something happened during the time he was away?

“How’d you go today?” you asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, humming a vague response.

“Mm,” you copied, wearing a teasing smile.

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder. Then he did something weird. 

His head turned again, and he gave you a double-take, eyes falling from your face and to your legs. Your pyjama shorts had ridden up to the crease where your legs and hips connected, and your thighs were squished together on the counter, the cuff of your thigh-high socks digging into the soft flesh. His eyes flickered to yours once more before he turned back around.

Very weird.

An unexpected wave of goosebumps travelled down your entire body. You swallowed nervously and averted your eyes to your lap. It was absurd how a single look from him could cause you to react so strongly. He had so much power over you.

You crossed your legs, palms flat against the bench top on either side of you for support. The entire room was filled with the sweet aroma of the broth Finnick had made, causing your mouth to water from the mere thought of the warm liquid soaking into your tongue.

He lifted the pot from the stove and turned it off, scooping the contents into two bowls. However, when he turned around and walked over to you, he was only holding one.

“Just glad to be home with you,” he said and offered you the bowl.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking it into your hands.

The bowl was hot against your palms and fingertips, almost burning right down into your bloodstream as the golden liquid wafted steam into your face. Finnick’s gaze followed your movements as you lifted the spoon to your lips and finally felt the delicious heat seep into your tastebuds. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hummed a noise of pleasure, already craving another spoonful. “Tastes really good.” 

“Yeah?” He tilted his head.

Finnick was gently lifting one of your legs into his hands, massaging your calf through the cotton of your socks. His hand wandered down to your ankle, stroking over it with an affectionate touch before gliding back up to the underside of your knee. You had hardly noticed his affectionate behaviour, too distracted by the vibrant tastes filling your mouth. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” you asked half-heartedly, focused on getting another mouthful in.

“Sure am,” he murmured.

Selfishly, you paid his words no mind even though you really should have. You had just lowered the spoon back into the bowl, watching the soup cover the metal when suddenly, your leg was being lifted over the other. 

Now this got your attention.

You swallowed the warm liquid, eyes looking up at him in confusion. He uncrossed your legs, nudging them open with his hands on your inner thighs before he positioned himself between them. Your thighs were now hugging either side of his hips, your grip on the bowl frozen with uncertainty. 

“What are you…?” you began, but then he was gently taking the bowl and spoon out of your hands and placing them on the bench beside you.

“Told you I’m hungry, sweetheart,” he said. He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “Been waiting all day to see you. And these socks…” he trailed off with a sigh, sliding his fingers just beneath the band digging softly into your thigh before letting it snap back in place. “Well, now I’m practically starving.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. God, you were already breathless. 

“Oh,” you whispered.

He bit his bottom lip and kept lowering his gaze to your mouth, looking at you as if you were a grand three-course meal and he was on death row. 

“I just need a taste,” he spoke almost pleadingly. “Will you let me?”

Not a single neuron in your brain was firing at that moment. With the way he was staring at you, how gorgeous helooked, and the fact that he was practically begging to be between your thighs, it was almost impossible to say no. It was also impossible for you to verbalise it as well.

“Please, baby. You’ll let me, won’t you?” he pleaded.

The growing desperation in his voice had you sinking your hips into the counter, feeling yourself begin to ache for him. Of course, as you did this your thighs grew expanded even wider from the pressure and Finnick seemed to like that very much. You could tell from the way his cock left a large print across the front of his pants.

You nodded, speechless.

“You will?” His hands found the sides of your thighs. “Good.” 

Within seconds, he had dragged your body to the edge and collided your pelvis with his. He felt as hard as he looked. You gasped at his eagerness but were immediately cut off by his lips crushing against your own, leading you into a kiss that mirrored the hunger he must have been feeling inside all day. 

His hand moved into your hair, holding you with a firm yet gentle grip. He was leaning into you, moving his lips so assertively that your body had to lean back to get a sliver of respite. You were buzzing with anticipation like electric currents were moving through your veins. If he was kissing you like this, what would it be like when his lips were further below?

He then pulled away to observe you. 

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispered, gently smoothing the hair beside your face.

You leaned into his touch, enjoying the brief tender moment. Your hand moved onto his and gently squeezed as you looked up at him, gaze doe-eyed and full of false naivety. You knew you were only spurring him on.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he said before pressing another peck to your lips. Then he started to go lower. First, he kissed the length of your neck and then the skin above your breasts exposed by your low-cut shirt. “Perfect eyes, perfect lips, perfect thighs.”

He was crouching now, trailing kisses down your stomach which had your fingers weaving into his hair. The descension halted at your upper thighs. His lips left a warm tingling sensation that spread across your skin with each tender touch. You watched him begin moving higher, entering a dangerous region of your inner thighs with lips that were trademarked for trouble. 

The air in your lungs was in short supply now.

“Just so sweet and so…” His fingers slipped into your waistband and pulled your shorts down your legs. The fabric fell from your ankles and there you sat, your glistening cunt bare and reflecting in Finnick’s green eyes. “So wet.”

Feeling nervous due to his penetrative stare, you attempted to conceal yourself and began closing your legs. He tsked and forced them open with two sturdy hands. He continued marvelling at the slick that coated your folds, committing the image to his mind.

“So perfect,” he exhaled.

You were getting impatient now.

“Finnick,” you whined. “Please. Just… Just do some—" 

You inhaled sharply. He had rushed forward and finally connected his warm mouth to your cunt. 

High-pitched breathless moans were already spilling from your lips as his harsh tongue delved between your folds, lapping up the arousal that had leaked out. Your body was restless, which was evident from the way your fingers pulled at his hair, hips bucked into his mouth, and thighs clenched around his head. 

Hunger and starvationwere not the right terms to describe how he was acting. Not at all.

He was insatiable.

Finnick’s shoulders slid beneath your thighs, forcing your legs to dangle over them. His arms were curled around your legs while his hands kept your legs clamped open from the top of your thighs. He suctioned his lips around your clit, the sensitive flesh growing more swollen as the pressure he applied increased.

You placed a hand on the counter behind you to keep yourself steady, keeping the other hand buried in his golden waves. Your head fell back with a loud moan. He was shaking his head side-to-side in a manner that could only be deemed as animalistic. He was eating you out like a fucking animal. Like he was a predator, and this was his kill. 

“Oh, my god!” you cried out.

He moaned into your pussy, tongue dragging from your opening and back to your clit, savouring every ounce of sweetness he could pull from you. A dull pain was coming from your upper thighs and you quickly realised Finnick’s fingers were digging into your skin. Each time your thighs tried to shut, his fingers buried deeper into your flesh. And mixed with the feeling of his tongue lapping you up, it felt rapturously overwhelming.

His tongue began flicking your clit at such rapid speeds that you weren’t even sure a vibrator could replicate it. You were now pulling, no, yanking at his hair all the while your hips were moving closer to his face. The pleasure was so devastating even your body wasn’t sure what to do with itself.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” his hoarse voice vibrated against your clit, “y’gotta strong grip.” 

Your chest heaved as you looked down at him. “Finn, don’t stop.” 

And of course, he pulled back an inch to look up at you. The sight of him between your legs was fucking glorious. A mix of your juices and spit was dribbling down his chin, coating his lips in a shine you wanted to taste. His hair was dishevelled in a way you could only describe as a sex-crazed mess. Oh, and the way his blown-wide pupils were looking at you… like he had a whim to devour you whole right then and there.

“Stop? Who said I was ever going to stop?” He smirked.

Then he leaned in and fell back into his previous rhythm. The heels of your feet dug into his back. He was essentially making out your cunt. His tongue was swirling around your clit and kissing it sweetly, as if doing so offered you any reprieve from the exquisite torment he was inducing. Your stomach muscles were aching in the most pleasurable way, sending signals of pure arousal to your brain that made you feel intoxicated.

“Like fucking sugar,” his voice muffled into you. 

He tongued your entrance, forcing as much as he could inside you. Your walls fluttered with warmth around him and you let out a needy little whine. He flicked his tongue upwards inside you as he slid in and out, thick eyebrows scrunched together as he moaned at your taste soaking into his tastebuds.  

One of his arms unravelled from your thigh and his tongue retracted from inside you. You whimpered in displeasure, only to gasp as something longer immediately replaced his tongue. Finnick’s mouth was entirely focused on suckling your clit, meanwhile, the two fingers he had slid inside you were focused on pushing your body over the edge.

“Fuck,” you breathed heavily. “Fuck. Oh, f—ah!”

The pads of his fingertips pressed into that swollen spot deep inside you, knuckles prodding your walls as he curled his fingers. He was wildly flicking his tongue over your clit with the added help of his head shaking side-to-side.

You were writhing. Your body had never known such powerful sensations before meeting Finnick. Even after all the time you had been together, you were still trying to get accustomed to how intensely he made you feel. Given that information, you could feel your orgasm rocketing from deep within and to the surface. Flames licked at the muscles in your stomach, spreading like wildfire from your clit.

Finnick looked up at you, and you looked down at him. Look how good I make you feel, his cocky eyes spoke. Your parted lips were dark, flushed with heat and arousal, letting each and every debauched sound echo around the ceramic-tiled room. He plunged his fingers inside you again and your head fell back. You knew he was laughing. You could feel it.

The noises filling the room were pure sex. The sound of Finnick’s fingers squelching inside you, of him sucking and lapping at your pussy, and your whiny half-crazed moans—they were all that could be heard. And then suddenly your body started tensing.

“I’m so close,” you panted. “Finn, I’m—I’m—Fuck!”

And there it was.

Finnick didn’t stop. Hell, he somehow even managed to pick up his pace.

Your thighs clamped harshly around his head; this would’ve worried you if your brain actually had a single thought running through it. Shockwaves of bliss crashed over your body; they consumed you. Your moans came out as choked noises and filthy gratified cries of Finnick’s name as he sucked and curled his fingers in and out. 

You felt him speaking, most likely words of praise to talk you through your high, but you couldn’t hear. White noise buzzed in your ears. Part of you could feel him collecting your juices with his tongue as the built-up tension gushed from your cunt. The other part of you was gone.

At least for a brief period.

When you came back to reality, Finnick was starting to stand back up. His hands were holding both your thighs, keeping them from violently trembling. You stared at him, waiting for the spots in your vision to disappear and the buzzing in your ears to settle. There was nothing you could do about the liquid seeping onto the bench top.

He surveyed your dazed expression, mild concern etched into his features as his eyes flickered between your own. His hand gently cupped the side of your face. 

“You here?” he asked, lightly dragging his thumb down your lower lip.

Sweetness coated the tip of your tongue as you licked your bottom lip. Well, no wonder he enjoyed doing that so much. You tasted really… good.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

He gave you this beautiful dimpled smile, and he dropped his hand once more. His eyes were on yours, gleaming with mischief as he dragged two fingers up your folds, glazing them in a white shine. You were so sensitive that your hips jerked forward at the light contact, causing him to chuckle softly.

You watched as he lifted his fingers to his lips and within milliseconds, you were reaching out to stop him.

His fingers were so thick and long, and with your arousal coating them, it was damn near impossible to deny yourself the pleasure of having a little taste as well. So, with two hands holding his palm, you guided his fingers towards you. 

You eyed the liquid for a moment, hesitated, and then licked a long strip from the base of his forefinger and up to his fingertip. Then, closing your eyes, you wrapped your lips around the length and began sucking. It was a potent taste, both overpowering and lingering. Not bad though. You moved onto his middle finger, this time keeping your eyes on Finnick as you sucked it clean.

His expression reflected something of astonishment, letting out a perplexed chuckle as he watched. With a wet pop, his fingers were out of your mouth. You were holding his large palm and pressing a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, a tender and affectionate gesture compared to the act you just pulled.

Finnick shook his head at you, wearing a disbelieving smile.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. 

“What,” he echoed your response under his breath. He grabbed your chin, leaning down until you were face-to-face. “You play a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

Then his lips were on yours and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, all that could be tasted was you. That previous animalistic air about him had dissipated; he was gentler now, kissing you in a way that was adoring rather than bordering primal. Not that you had been complaining.

His pelvis was pressed against yours. More accurately, his cock was pressed against your pelvis. Whoever made his pants must have used strong threading. He was so hard that you were surprised the seams hadn’t ripped apart and exposed him altogether. You were surprised but also thankful because undoing his pants was your job. 

Your hands moved to his chest and pushed him backwards. His lips left yours with a displeased grunt. 

“Oh, don’t you worry, Finn,” you said, your hands trickling down his torso. “I’ve worked up an appetite myself as well.”

He looked down at you, eyes oozing with seduction. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

You slid off the counter, feeling his erection glide over your body. The fragrant smell of marinated vegetables and chicken still lingered in the room. You should have felt disheartened about not finishing the mouth-watering soup Finnick had made—or perhaps even the entire pot. But as you sank to your knees and began unbuttoning his pants, you realised there was one thing that was a great deal more appetising. 

Peering up at him through your lashes, you saw him looking down at you with a lazy smirk. 

Your lips stretched into a sinful smile. “My turn.”

[forlorn-crows]

More non-serious sex brainrot: Mountain casual fucking. Guy just needs to get off, y'know? It's been a hard day of manipulating the fabric of the earth itself and the big guy just needs to blow off some steam by blowing out someone's back. Or getting his own blown out.

Walks into the ghoul wing and propositions the first person he sees. And, of course, who wouldn't be willing to lend a hand to help a friend out?

uhhh well you see. he didnt even make it out of the greenhouse. so, as a reward for being the sweetie that he is, rain gets his back blown out

cw: theyr'e disgustingly in love. good ole' fashioned spontaneous sex. a lil bit of oral, a lil bit of dirty talk. hard and fast and needy, and thats how we like it. unexpected knotting (oopsies). and, as always, transmasc rain. cunt/clit/folds to refer to his anatomy.

Mountain sets the last of the hanging baskets back into place, sighing bodily. He rolls his neck, wincing at the little pops his spine makes. But he’s satisfied with his work—all the flowers and ferns pruned and their soil refreshed—and very glad to be done. 

The earth ghoul brushes the remainder of the soil off the workbench, finally allowing the stifled need in his core to roll up his spine and settle under his skin. He digs his claws into the wood and groans out loud. Curling in on himself when his dick starts to chub.

The door to the greenhouse squeaks open, chilly autumn air rolling in along with the scent of petrichor and sea salt. Mountain has to stop himself from whining at the fresh, intoxicating smell. 

“Hey, sunflower,” Rain says brightly, drifting in with a dancer’s grace. “Brought you some tea and snacks.” He sets a shallow bowl and mug down onto the bench, pressing himself to Mountain’s side and kissing him on the cheek. “Orange cinnamon chai,” he points to the steaming mug, resting his head on the earth ghoul’s shoulder, “and there,” he points at the bowl, “are figs, pears, and some brie drizzled with honey. ‘Cause I know that’s your favorite.”

Mountain chuffs and dips a finger into a smear of honey on the edge of the bowl. He sucks it off, looking down at Rain with lidded eyes. Admiring the way the wind ruffled up his inky curls, the slight lilac blush to his cheeks, the little smile he gives when Mountain makes a noise of approval. 

“Do I detect a hint of honeysuckle, tadpole?”

Rain feigns surprise, looking up at him coyly. “Maybe,” he lilts.

Mountain rumbles happily and leans in close. “Just as sweet as you.” He cradles the water ghoul’s face in his hand and kisses him deeply, melting their bodies together chest to chest. Groaning when Rain opens up immediately and lets him stick his honey-coated tongue inside. 

The earth ghoul lifts him effortlessly onto the top of the workbench, wrapping Rain’s legs around his waist and hugging him close, all without breaking the kiss. Rain trills happily and sinks into Mountain’s affection. He drapes his arms around his broad shoulders, fingers playing with the mousy-brown strands falling from his bun. The action sends a shiver down Mountain’s spine, and he can’t help but gasp softly against the water ghoul’s mouth. His fingers tighten into the knit of Rain’s sweater. 

“Feed me some?” Mountain mumbles against his lips. 

Rain smiles. “‘Kay.” He turns his head to select a morsel, giving Mountain access to the long column of his neck. Eager lips surge forward to latch onto the sensitive skin. Mountain can feel the amused rumble that bubbles up in his throat.

“Don’t eat me, silly,” he laughs. “Here.” He holds a slice of pear between lithe fingers, dangling it in front of his nose.

“What if I want to eat you,” Mountain purrs. But he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue for it anyway. He curls it around Rain’s lithe fingers when he places the fruit in his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as he licks across the pads of them. Chilled and sticky-sweet.

Rain makes a soft noise, letting Mountain lick them clean. 

“Do you like it?” Rain whispers, watching as the earth ghoul closes his mouth around the tops of his fingers before pulling away and chewing. Mountain watches Rain watch his mouth, eyes flitting around his pretty, angular face. 

He hums and licks a stray droplet of honey from his lips. “It’s delicious, darling. Thank you,” he says huskily, pulling Rain closer by the waist. Rain trills as he runs his palms across the small of his back, dipping just underneath his sweater. Mountain buries his nose in the collar of it and not-so-subtly humps his hips against the edge of the table. 

“But I think I fancy something else right now.” Mountain nuzzles under his ear. Rain’s scent spikes with arousal and he can’t hold back the desire any longer. “Wanted to bend you over this bench as soon as you walked in the door.”

Rain shudders and groans approvingly. “Yeah?”

“Say you’ll let me. Please? I’ve been aching.” Mountain licks up the side of his neck and sucks his earlobe into his mouth. Rolling it between his teeth while Rain hisses and grasps at Mountain’s hair. “Take you right here, fuck you so good.”

“Fuck yes,” Rain breathes. “Right here, please do.” 

Mountain doesn’t need any more permission than that. He growls playfully and promptly flips Rain onto his belly, bending him over the edge of the workbench and yanking his sweatpants down all in one motion. 

“Lucifer—” Rain gasps through a surprised giggle, lifting his tail over his shoulder. 

Mountain lands a smack to his right asscheek and grabs two handfuls of him, groaning at the sight of slick already seeping through his folds. He spreads his cheeks wide and sinks to his knees in the dirt, shoving his face in Rain’s cunt. 

“Satanas, Mount, oh fff,” the water ghoul moans, pounding his fist on the table. “Your fucking mouth, unholy shit.”

Mountain groans against him, shoving his tongue in as far as he can get it. Pressing his nose into that soft spot before his hole and taking in the concentrated smell of need that goes straight to his rock-hard dick. 

“Taste like absolute sin, tadpole,” Mountain mumbles against his folds, too drunk on his flavor to stray too far to say so. 

“You can stay down there as long as you want,” Rain chokes out as he seals his lips over his throbbing clit. “Suck me dry, seven hells.”

The earth ghoul just hums, suckling on it until his nose gets wet with slick and Rain’s panting above him. Digging into his round ass so hard he’s bound to leave marks. But he doesn’t take him up on the offer, pulling away after a few heated moments. 

“Wanted to make sure you were nice and wet for me,” he all but growls. “Gonna fill you up so full.”

Rain whines and peeks over his shoulder, eyes drooping in pleasure. He wiggles his hips as he watches Mountain strip his apron, arching his back to make sure he gets a perfect eyeful. 

Mountain licks his lips as he pulls himself out of his pants, not bothering to push them any further than past his balls—just enough to expose his aching length. He grips himself and teases Rain’s folds with the head of his cock, up and down until he’s coated in creamy slick. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Mountain whines. “So perfect. All afternoon, I’ve needed this. Needed you.”

Rain pushes back, popping the head of his cock right inside. Mountain has to stop himself from blowing right there, steadying himself with one hand on Rain’s hip and groaning when his balls draw up with no warning. 

“Show me how perfect. Take me,” the water ghoul begs sweetly, breathlessly. 

Mountain can’t wait any longer. He pushes all the way in, melding their hips together. Growling low as Rain squeezes around him and breathes out little yesyesyes’s, urging Mountain to snuggle into that space made just for his cock. The earth ghoul’s forehead drops between Rain’s shoulder blades as he bottoms out, keening at just how good he feels. 

Mountain tells him as much. Rumbles endless praise into the fibers of his sweater, the curls at the back of his neck. Shuddering as Rain arches back into him and digs his fingers into the wood. 

“So perfect,” Mountain mumbles again, beginning to move. The first real slide of his length against those smooth, silky inner walls makes his mind hazy with need. He doesn’t get more than one slow thrust before he’s fucking Rain in earnest, wrapping his arms around his hips and forcing him to take it deep. 

“Mine,” he growls over the lewd sound of skin slapping skin. 

“Yours,” the water ghoul cries. “Oh, fuck me, ye-e-es-ss.” 

Mountain digs into his slim hips. Holding him tight so Rain feels the tip of his cock all the way in his stomach with each thrust.

“Feel so good,” the earth ghoul grunts. Rain clenches around him and he nearly sees stars. “Lucifer, take it, take it.”

Rain just nods, gurgles out something incoherent. Words aren’t important to Mountain anymore, though, not really. He just needs the water ghoul to make pretty noises, soak his cock in slick, and take every inch of him until he can spill inside him hot and fast. Siphon the burning need out of his core so he can actually relax after working all day. 

“Mount,” Rain gasps. “So deep, unholy shit.”

“Yeah? Gonna give it to you,” he growls, snapping his hips even harder. Each time their hips meet, there’s a little resistance at the base of Mountain’s cock, spikes of pleasure running through his hips and down his thighs with each thrust. He realizes too late it’s his knot, swelling and bumping against Rain’s folds. Growing bigger by the minute until it’s impossible to ignore.

“Hmpf, Rain I—” Another shudder runs through him, white-hot and insistent. He snarls. “Please, let me—fuck—need to put it in.”

Rain drops his forehead to the worktable with an audible thunk, groaning as he presses back against his knot. “Uh huh,” he whines. 

“Tell me I can, please, darling, tell me I can.”

“Put it iiinnn, Mount—hah—gimme it, need it.”

Mountain nearly sobs with relief. “So good to me, so fucking good to me,” he babbles. “Just need a little—that’s it, seven hells, Rainy.”

The water ghoul arches as far as he can, letting Mountain fully support his hips with just his forearms. Each thrust pushes more and more of his knot in, until finally Rain’s cunt stretches around its widest point and sucks him right in. Popping in with a wet squelch and the daintiest oh Mountain’s let out yet. 

“Fuck—”

“So good, squeeze it, squeeze it—”

“—yeah—”

“—cumming, cumming, Rain oh—”Mountain spills deep inside with fangs latched in his mate’s sweater, and he swears he’ll do anything Rain wants once he’s spent.

[darubyprincx]

The sea is cold and surprisingly full of life.

Do not call this body of water an ocean. It is too small to be an ocean and too large to be a lake. It hovers in-between as you dart betwixt its long, meandering strands of kelp, sopping wet, teeth grit, hunting and hunting for hands much like your own but bloated by the sea.

You've been at this for three days and three nights. At this point, you feel prepared to consecrate your own Noah.

The Drowned speak. Most of them don't talk in a language you understand, of course. Their words are bubbles and growls, raspy throats corroded by the salt water. Very few remain to tell stories at all, but the ones who do and the ones who can and the ones who share name you player and name you hunter.

"What do you seek?" one asks, voice barely a whisper above the roiling bass of the sea. You pause, sword suspended at their neck.

"What?"

"The still-hearted do not come to the sea," they say, dragging you closer to them to rasp in your ear. You let them. "What do you seek?"

Long, ruined limbs wrap around your torso. You shake yourself loose. "I need a weapon," you say, voice honed sharp to cut away the lingering strings of enchantment binding you close to the doomed soul. "Something I can throw."

"And after that?" the drowned drawls. "Will you enchant it?"

"Yes," you say. "To summon lightning."

"For what cause?"

"I am crafting," you say, continuing to swim backwards and letting your arms drift outwards a bit as if to suggest grandiosity, "a set of armor so great and so powerful that none shall touch me when my work is done. I shall use it to protect my friends and defeat my enemy. It needs to be struck by lightning before it works, though."

"And after that?" asks the drowned, voice eerily pleasant. This is a trap. There is no life behind those eyes, no soul behind that voice. If it is, it's rotted, stinking of dead fish and decaying kelp and the salt-stained piers of long gone seaside towns. There is nothing for you, a living player, here. Still, you linger, momentarily paused in your journey to trade words with a long dead wraith. "What will you do when you've conquered the world and swallowed the sun, player? You can fly. I've seen you do it. What comes next, hunter, when all of your friends are safe and all of your needs sated?"

You pause. "I do not know."

The drowned smirks, mouth twisting oddly and cruelly, as if the movement pains it somehow. "You are of the land and sky," it says, kicking forward to place one clammy hand on your cheek in a gesture that is the very shadow of tenderness. "But I? I pledged my love to the sea and she gives me all I need. The ocean is eternal, and I am the ocean's."

"That's no way to live," you say, not exactly thinking before speaking.

The drowned laughs at that, a raspy laugh of ruin and salt. "I died long ago," it murmurs, standing up straight and aiming its trident at your heart. The kelp that you did not realize was twining itself around your limbs and sword cinches tight. With a twisted grin, the trident pierces.

You wake with a strangled gasp on the shore, freezing and soaked to the bone. It's nighttime and raining. You run as fast as your legs will carry you home and half-collapse inside your house, teeth chattering, head full of eerie words, not giving your stolen trident a second glance.

[inkformyblood]

let me useful, let me be used (COD Mermay)

Coral Reef Mer Soap x Deep Sea Mer Ghost, size difference, bottom Ghost, NSFW/lemon

“Easy now,” Simon rumbles beneath him, his voice better felt than heard. His hands span the side of Johnny’s torso, the webbing between his splayed fingers not even fully extended, brushing against the underside of Johnny’s arm as he squirms, trying to reclaim his perch. If Simon had been shaped more like the outcropping he could be mistaken for in the dim light, it would be easy enough for Johnny to press himself close and work his hand down to the soft slit in his fin, squeeze his fingers into himself alongside the length of his cocks and pretend that he is finally being filled. 

As it is, Simon is huge. All over. 

Johnny’s eyes snap open, a snarl of frustration tearing through him, his teeth bared as he slams his hands forward onto Simon’s torso. It’s like he’s hitting a mountain, some vast volcanic structure given shape and breath and sent out into the world for Johnny to find and fuck and love with every scrap of himself. Simon laughs, not unkindly, not sweetly, a bubbling exhalation that rushes away from them both. Johnny tips himself forwards, biting at one of the bubbles. It tastes like salt, clinging to Johnny’s tongue as he swallows it down, and he blinks once, twice, trying to pull his thoughts back into line. It’s difficult with Simon so close to him to concentrate on anything else, but he tries.

Simon lies beneath him, belly up, ripe for devouring. Johnny could tear him open, bite through skin and muscle and expose the pale sheen of bone, the rich yellow of fat, every dark squirming organ that he could feast on. Johnny drags his fingers over over the paler markings that trace the ridges of Simon’s ribs, the smooth passage interrupted by a network of heavy scars that rip through the flutter of his gills. He pushes himself up slightly, the water that rushes into the space between them cool against his overheated skin, and tips his head forward to stare down the length of himself. His cocks have spilled out of his slit, glowing the same pale sheen as the liquid that oozes from him, the patches burnt over the brighter colours of his tail, and a strand stretches between himself and Simon, keeping them joined. Simon is a dark shape beneath him, his tail curving down into the deep water, and Johnny settles back into place with a huff. 

Simon looks impossibly fond, his mouth curved into a small uneven smile, one corner drawn up permanently by a heavy scar carved through his skin. 

“You’re too fuckin’ big,” Johnny grumbles. He crawls up Simon’s torso, still held gently in place, Simon’s fingers meeting in the valley of his spine, before he leans down to kiss him. His tongue presses against the edge of one of Simon’s fangs, long and curved and sharp enough for blood to bead at the surface, before he licks over Simon’s tongue. 

“Sorry,” Simon offers into the scant space between them. He looks anything but sorry, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth smeared with Johnny’s blood. Johnny snarls something wordless in answer, his gills flaring in an instinctive attempt to make himself seem bigger, more of a threat. He pushes himself upright, his hands splayed on the expanse of Simon’s chest before he slides them sideways, down, pinching the edge of a gill between his claws. Simon groans, a quake rumbling through Johnny, and his grip tightens on Johnny’s waist. He wants it to bruise, to go back to the sunlight and the colour of the reef with a reminder of Simon’s touch, his teeth. 

Johnny grins down at him, releasing Simon’s gill before he presses his fingers inside, barely breaching the soft flesh as Simon stills beneath him. He’s weak here, soft beneath Johnny’s touch and he doesn’t move, letting Johnny feel the tremble of his muscles beneath the worn pads of his fingers, the reflexive hitch to his breathing as Johnny’s claws curl. He could tear him open here as easily as he could from his perch further down and Simon would let him all the same. 

“You’d just lay there and let me eat you, wouldn’t ye,” Johnny murmurs, more to himself than to Simon, but the grip on his waist tightens in silent confirmation, not pulling him away but holding him close. His grin to Simon doesn’t fit quite right, too many teeth to be anything other than starving , but he hopes the love still shines through the cracks. 

Simon’s thumb traces down the length of Johnny’s spine, curling to allow his claw to eke out a path where skin cannot. “Please.” The unspoken ‘let me be useful, let me be used’ echoes through Johnny like a scream, a hunting shrill that ignites fresh desire in his belly, and he lowers himself to kiss Simon’s gills, pressing the outline of his teeth into them through his barely closed lips. 

There’s no time to waste. Johnny returns to his perch, crooking his fingers into the soaked edge of his slit. His cocks had retracted slightly as his focus had wavered and Johnny’s hips roll, fucking himself onto his fingers, onto the slight indentation in Simon’s fin, chasing a bliss he’s only ever grasped the edges of. Johnny’s tail knocks against the side of Simon’s as the other man shifts, powerful muscles contracting and relaxing once more. 

“You good, Si? Still got me?”

“Still got you.”

Everything feels too warm like he’s swam too close to a thermal vent, his bones suddenly present in his flesh and dragging him down to be devoured. Johnny works his fingers further inside himself, too full from the wrong angle so he turns his head to bite at the curve of his shoulder just to feel something solid against the ache in his gums. Simon clicks his tongue, the sound akin to a thunderclap from this close, and Johnny stops, his cocks clutched in one desperate fist, the other thumbing at the soft give of Simon’s slit, copper on his tongue and bone scraping against his teeth. 

“Here.” One of Simon’s hands leaves Johnny’s side, moving up his back, his fingers curling over Johnny’s shoulder to prod at the seam of his lips. An offering of flesh and bone while Johnny prepares a dedication of his own, and one Johnny would gladly accept. He opens his mouth, releasing his own bruised and bloody flesh to sink his teeth into Simon’s hand. His flesh is thicker, better suited for depths that Johnny can only skirt the edges of, fat and muscle lying in plentiful supply for the press of Johnny’s hunger, and Simon’s blood is rich, oxygen-full and heady. Johnny groans, his fingers spasming inside himself as his cocks work free against the intrusion with a gush of fluid. 

Mouthing at Simon’s hand, Johnny turns his attention downwards once more. Simon’s slit is a pale stripe over the swell of his belly, well-fed and well-defined and something burrows into the hollowed out cavity in Johnny’s chest at the sight of it. All because of him, all because he coaxed Simon up from the depths and damn near killed himself in the process, forcing his lungs to remain inflated as the pressure threatened to cave in his ribs. He loves Simon enough to tear the world into bloody pieces just to keep him content, his own flesh is a minor deterrent. 

Simon’s tail flicks once more, keeping them both buoyant, and Johnny moves in kind, swaying as the water pushes against him. He shuffles up Simon’s form, working his jaw over the intrusion of Simon’s fingers before he swipes his tongue over the membrane between them, folded to fit into Johnny’s mouth. “Ready, Si?” Johnny asks, his voice muffled but no less focused. 

Another wave of water as Simon shifts, stronger this time before he settles back into desperate compliance. “Yeah. Fuck me, Johnny.”

Well, when Simon puts it so sweetly, how could Johnny deny them both even a second longer?

Simon’s cocks are still encased inside his slit, but encouraging them out isn’t the goal here. Johnny wraps one hand around his cocks, holding them both together as his hips roll reflexively, soaking his palm with a further gush of fluid. With his other hand, he reaches for Simon’s slit once more. It parts beneath his fingers, holding him close, squeezing the single digit he presses inside before he withdraws. Fucking his fingers in deeper, Johnny brushes over the twitching walls, muscles speared open and exposed from the wrong side. His skin feels too tight, stretched thin over bones woven together with something as fragile as a thought, and Johnny sets his teeth against the furrows already bitten into Simon’s flesh. It would scar, he’d make sure of it. He grinds his jaw before he releases his cocks, drawing Simon’s hand free and placing it on his hip. The marks of Johnny’s teeth are clear, the flesh beneath paler before blood beads along the surface. 

Focusing back on Simon, pushing deeper, there’s the heft of Simon’s cocks, solid even while tucked away, the distant pulse of Simon’s heart radiating through them. Johnny retreats, his fingers coated with slick and shining. He spreads his fingers, a strand of liquid thicker than the water around them suspended over the webbing before it snaps, and Simon groans, his head falling back for an instant before he’s staring once more. The luminescence from Johnny’s markings, normally barely visible when he’s on the reef, flares bright as he lines up his cocks with the soft give of Simon’s slits. 

“Last chance to bail, Si,” Johnny murmurs, his voice half-ruined already, and he is never going to be the same after this, reforged, remade by the soft smile Simon gives him, lopsided and beautiful all the same. 

Simon shakes his head, his gaze never straying from Johnny. This is what it must feel like to be devoured, the never-wavering focus and the mouthful of teeth drawing nearer. Simon folds himself in half to kiss Johnny, holding him in place as his tail dips down to keep them both level, careful of his teeth that Johnny is intent on bloodying himself on. Johnny swings his tail, his fins slapping against the bulk of Simon’s as he whines, wordless, the sound swallowed up by Simon as he holds Johnny still. Simon draws back slightly, pressing his forehead to Johnny’s. His eyes are blown wide, dark and reflecting the sheen of Johnny’s markings, the open-mouthed gasp he wears, the flush burning over his cheeks. “Look,” Simon murmurs, inclining his head downwards and Johnny obeys. 

Using the hold he has on Johnny’s hip, one hand planted on the curve of his back, Simon draws Johnny’s cocks against his slit, fucking Johnny against him. Johnny groans, curling forwards as if he’d been stabbed, the warm-wet-soft sensation pooling in the pit of his stomach. Breathing through the bared gaps in his teeth, Johnny rolls his hips once more, dragging his cocks before pausing where his finger had been. The difference feels obscene, comparing the size of his finger to his cocks, and Johnny presses forwards, the head of his lower cock pressing inside. 

It’s so much.

Too much.

Johnny bites his tongue, tears a chunk free and swallows it, claws at his belly like he can hold back a tidal wave with nothing more than his hands. Simon is surrounding him, consuming him utterly, and Johnny can’t look away, the water fogging with his blood, as his cock presses into Simon, first one, and then the other. He doesn’t press far, can’t with the heft of Simon’s cocks just beneath him, but he can thrust against them, coaxing Simon open further. It’s a long moment before Johnny can look up at Simon, still pressed against him.

There’s fresh lines carved into Johnny’s hip, a matching set over his ribs where Simon’s grip had tightened. Simon’s mouth is pressed shut, his teeth hidden behind the fragile seams of his lips, and his eyes are open, locked onto the press of Johnny’s cocks into him. 

“How does it feel?” Johnny says, rolling his hips forwards. Distantly, he feels the pulse of Simon’s heart against his skin, radiating through him. Again, the urge burns through the back of his hands, the soft stretch of his gums, to lean down and tear Simon open. His belly folds when he’s upright, a soft swell where the rough pattern of scales gives way to flesh, and Johnny wants to bite it, to fuck deep enough that he can see the outline of his cocks through Simon’s skin. 

“Good.” Simon’s gaze shifts to him, a starving creature given food, the water murky because he’s feasted, and Johnny grins wide, shows off all his teeth. “You’re inside me, Johnny. I can feel you.”

Johnny’s hips still and he comes, flooding Simon’s slit, chanting a litany of Simon’s name until it loses all meaning except that he loves him. Simon holds him close through the initial tremors, presses kisses to the bowed crown of his head through the aftershocks as Johnny’s cocks withdraw inside himself, soft and satiated. satiated. Johnny’s gills flare as he gasps for breath, feeling the world tilt around him, drawing itself into fresh coordinates. 

Simon reaches down between them, his hand littered with the imprints of Johnny’s teeth, and tugs at the edge of his slit. A heavy bead oozes out onto the edge of his claw, and Simon raises it to his mouth, licking from the base of his palm to the sharp tip, before he grins. “Not bad, Johnny.”

“Yeah?” Waves crash distantly in Johnny’s ears, his heartbeat just beginning to slow. He can’t look away from the slide of Simon’s tongue, the dexterous flick of it and his cocks twitch inside his sheath. “Give me a few moments to catch my breath, and we can go again. I have a couple of ideas I want to try next.”

[moodymisty]

Hey, what's up? I'd like to leave a request. So, I'm from Brazil. Here we are going through a terrible heat wave, it's been terrible to sleep at night. A random thought crossed my mind, and if Pabu's heat was also above average? The reader can't sleep and decides to take a swim in the sea. There she sees that Hunter has made the same decision and I don't know, can the two of them have a make-out session on the beach? 🤭😂

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: This is such a cute idea. I love midnight swims. I hope you enjoy this, and that the heat spell didn't cause you too much annoyance.

Relationships: Hunter/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Maybe a lil lewd but not full NSFW, Nothing more unless you're scared of the beach.

Word Count: 1353

Perhaps you were a bit too cruel in your comments about the wet weather of Kamino. Or the chill of Coruscant. Because as much as you complained about them individually, at least neither had the overwhelming, soul snuffing humidity that Pabu had. You've woken up again for the third time now, remaining undecided between the windows being open or closed, sheet on your body or off, laying on your side or stomach. This weather just will not abate.

There is absolutely no way you're going to sleep at this rate. Not with heat this sweltering.

With your nightclothes threatening to stick to your skin you put your feet into the cool stone floor, and debate for a moment perhaps sleeping on that instead. It may be terribly uncomfortable, but perhaps the cold of the tile might be better against your skin. It feels good against your feet, at least. Ultimately you decide against it however, and instead decide to do something else.

Stepping outside, you gently close the door behind you and walk barefoot down the path towards the beach, still in your nightshorts and shirt. No one is out this late but yourself, so you don't feel too bad about walking around in less than acceptable attire. Though you're sure most others in the town really wouldn't mind much given where you're going.

When the stone path turns to sand, you can see the waterline rising up and down with the waves. It's gentle, much like the evening except for the heat, and you can already feel the cool ocean breeze on your skin. It feels so much better, breathing feels easier without the hot humidity. It smells like salt and that unique, indescribable ocean scent.

It seems someone else had the same idea as well; As a figure standing up from beneath the water and raking back a mop of long dark hair startles you for a moment.

Until you see the familiar skeletal tattoo that runs along half of his body, and you realize instantly that it's Hunter.

You walk closer, sand between your toes as speak up to cue in the man that you're here, thought given his hearing he probably already knows.

"Couldn't stand the heat either?"

He turns around, watching as you stand just close enough that the water laps at your ankles. He laughs, brushing more stuck strands of hair from his face- water shining against his bare skin. You wonder if he walked out here shirtless, or if it's somewhere you didn't see on the way down.

"Yeah. Felt like I was going to suffocate. Don't know how the others can stand it." Gently crossing your arms across your chest, you sigh at the cooling feeling of the breeze and water against your skin. You can feel the sea mist against your face.

"Wrecker can sleep in an active warzone with no problem. Tech can sleep in this because he's probably pulled three allnighters before and finally crashed." Hunter lets out a quiet laugh.

You come a bit closer, the water lapping at your calves now. Hunter is standing up fully, and you can see that he's wearing black underwear, as the waistband is just visible when the water recedes a bit. The V of his hips and the small amount of hair shines with the waterline.

"Mind if I join you?" You say it genuinely, but there's a bit of an undertone with it that Hunter catches.

There was always something between you and him. But with the Empire, Omega, and everything else, neither of you had the chance to act on it. You sort've just, put it on the top shelf and ignored it for far more serious and important matters. The both of you had.

But with Pabu, maybe there's a chance that you could do something about it. Hunter had said that he liked you, but that he didn't want to complicate an already crowded ship, and risk muddying waters between the you while there was a bounty on all of your heads. It made sense, you agreed, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt a bit.

"Sure. I'd like the company."

You slip off your shorts and toss them up the beach so you're in your underwear and shirt, and walk deeper into the water; Up to your knees, your thighs. Each time you get closer and closer to Hunter. He abruptly stands more rigid when you pass by him, trying to go just a bit deeper for fun.

"Be careful there's tons of-"

Suddenly your leading foot doesn't touch ground and you go stumbling forward, but thankfully Hunter is close enough to catch you. He grasps you tight, managing to prevent you from going fully underneath the water. It's a moment that cues you once again into just how strong he really is, helping you stand upright and his hands staying on you.

"There's drop offs all over cause of the groundquakes. Be careful." The wet skin of his hands grasps your waist, shirt sticking to your skin above them. You smile a bit mischievous, not that scared after having been saved.

"Thanks." He lets out a laugh.

"You never did listen to me."

You always joked that it was because that you were technically not under his chain of command.

Hunter watches you for a moment, eyes just a bit hooded and face relaxed. You notices his eyes glance downward at your lips for a moment, lingering, before he leans in to close the distance and press his wet lips against your own. You can feel the curls of his hair dripping water down onto you, his breath warm on your skin.

Hunter makes no effort to end it, softly groaning into your mouth as his hands slide from awkwardly holding your waist, to resting more so on the small of your back. The tips of his fingers play with the top of your underwear. You can feel the rough calluses of his skin, his strong hands having a weight to them. His tongue brushes against your lips, his body presses closer to yours, even though there isn't much space to remove from between. It's amazing; Like drinking water after not having any for days. Now that you can finally have him you'll never be able to get enough.

Pulling away for a moment of air, you notice a warm look on Hunter's face.

"I was already glad Pabu turned out well for all of us, but," Even if he doesn't outright say it, you agree.

It's nice to be able to finally act on all of this. All of the want and the tension. You don't have to worry about so many things anymore. You just laugh and nod. Your fingers tightly grip each other behind the nape of his neck, keeping him trapped close to you.

"Yeah, it is. No more being crammed in the Marauder like a can of Tooka food."

Hunter can't help but smirk at your joke, silently agreeing. Instead of saying anything however, he presses his lips to yours, taking your bottom lip between his teeth gently as his hair brushes against you again.

If feels good to not have to wait anymore, to be able to wrap your arms around his neck tight. Even if it's just a kiss, it feels like a feast after so long of starving. You don't care if it's in the middle of the ocean, and you're both soaked to the bone with the sunrise about to start. Worst case scenario, you can just go back to your place.

You pull your lips away from his, the soaked fabric of your shirt sticking against his bare chest for just a moment. The outline of your chest is obviously visible from how the fabric suctions to your skin.

"Should we start heading back before the sun starts coming up?" Hunter shakes his head, a soft smirk on his lips. He looks over to the horizon for a moment, before roughly in the direction of where he and his brothers have been staying.

"Nah. We still have time."

[mayfast]

What's in a Name? (UnBetaed Ficlet)

“So, that’s my name?” His fingers hover over the wet sand, terrified to mess up the pretty lines and loops and dots in the shore. It was clean and spread out evenly. He let his eyes wonder over word again.

It was his name, but it’s seeable, not spoken. That’s his name. There on the ground for anyone to see if they wanted. However, it was just shared between them. On the East side of the village, where people hardly go. It’s between ocean blue skin and mellow brown eyes. Hidden in their soft words, and distinctive physiques. Tucked under their forms as a tan pinky points at the symbol. It’s amid their souls. Him and Spider.

“Yep, although we can get rid of this apostrophe if you want,” The elder’s smallest finger taps at the dot between the circle and the next symbol, it looks like the curve of a net falling into the water. Spider’s other hand floats in the air next to his larger, pinky less one. It makes him appreciate the difference and similarities between them. The careful articulation of the digits, and soft pads. But the striking color contrast when he slips the elder’s fingers between his own.  Even when it’s a little awkward to feels a digit on each side of his fingers, or when his hand swallows Spider’s smaller one. Ao’nung welcomes the soft squish of the other’s skin and sensitivity of his slimmer palm, “I just think it makes it look cooler and emphasizes the direct change of morphemes.”

“I like it.” He does, mainly because of the way Spider’s dark eyes reflect the bright sun when he gets to explain the organization of the symbols, letters, and how he’s putting them together to form a visualization of Ao’nung’s name. He looks so excited. His blonde hair glows like syuratan. Ha, imagine that, syuratan that glows during the day.

They were on the shore, kneeling on the semi-wet sand. Sea water occasionally licking at their toes. Ao’nung couldn't help but be captivated by the sight of the human’s long, blonde curly hair. He’s never stood before someone with such salient hair, He marveled how every strand seemed to catch the light, creating a halo of golden warmth around his head.

A gentle breeze played with Spider’s curls, causing them to dance and shimmer. The way his hair framed his face, accentuating his features, it made his stomache twisted wonderfully. Spider’s hair was different, thinner. So thin, that sometimes, the strands allowed the golden curls to puff up just a bit when they were dry. Like now. He watched as Spider’s ran his fingers under his hair, pulling it back from his face, and he couldn't help but feel an urge to cup one hand along the other’s jaw while the other caress the loose, undreaded hair.

It truly was yellow-yellow. It was like an endless current of yellow. Some strand darker than others, and the pieces would weave themselves in and out of each other. The other glanced over his sand shaded shoulder, turning to him with a smile, blunt teeth showing off and, his deep, murky water eyes sparkling with joy. Eyes delighted at seeing him. He returned the smile, feeling the fangs tug at his bottom lip.

            “What about your name?” He queries with a serene hum. He feels the need to bump his head against the gold mane, letting his tough skin feel the slick and smooth glide of the blonde ocean beside him. His does such, feeling the soft tufts along his cheek. It tickles his nose as the curls rub against it. He smells of an odd mixture of something bitter, ocean salt and hard metal. It’s a weird comfort, but he tends to enjoy weird things.

            “Which one?” There’s a small pressure resting on his wrist. He cracks an eye, just widen enough look at Spider’s other hand resting on top of it. His tan look so bright on his blue. He feels held as they lean on each other. “Miles or Spider?”

            “Your name.” He repeats gently. Sighing and feeling the flyaways brush against his skin as they move with his breathe, dancing with the air before falling back onto his cheeks.

            “Okay.” A saccharine utter hummed back.

            Spider leans away from him to put his finger into the sand. Carefully tracing his own symbols into the ground. There’s a similar number of symbols underneath Ao’nung’s name. But it’s dot is on top of a line instead of between symbols.

            “I like it.”  He answers, resting his chin on Spider’s fluffy hair.

[ratsoh-writes]

What kind of meals/food can you only find in Ebbott? (And be specific! Don't just say "magic" Ratsoh)

lets start with a list of all old (and some new) ebott only crops and animals:

Powder shrooms: these are gears favorite mushrooms. It’s a small honey colored mushroom with a black circle on the head. They have a very nice buttery taste and can be eaten raw but are best as stuffing for savory dishes. They get the name because they dry fast and the powder was used as flour for the nomads. They also grow like weeds and are easy to maintain

Snap root: it was showcased in the 1k event. It’s a spiny purple skinned root with a brown flesh. It gets its name from the way the vines “snap” up when sunlight hits it. The root has a lovely taste like a cross between pumpkin, sweet potato, and nutmeg and is mostly used in pies and sweet dishes

Crab “apples”: a fruit shaped like a crab. It’s technically not an apple despite the similar taste. It’s the most common fruit of the underground and the farmtale valley. The fruits are slightly sour and rarely larger than the palm of a small hand. The most common shape is the crab shape, but they also come in ducks, pyramids and spirals.

Flossy sticks: it’s a celery like vegetable. The plant looks like a normal leafy bush with very long stems, but as soon as you cut one stem off, it explodes into thousands of tiny floss like strands. They can be boiled into pasta, dried and powdered to be used as flour, or eaten raw. They have a crisp lemon and basil like taste.

Twigs: nobody knows why the vegetable is called this because it looks nothing like a twig. It’s a large orange long cucumber like vegetable. Normally about 3 feet long and 6 inches wide. It has a woodsy tea leaf taste to it. Also puréeing the flesh and mixing it with alcohol is what makes drinks that can temporarily change hair and eye color.

Lion lily: the fruit is named after the striking maned flowers that come before it. The flowers look like lilies but at the base of the flower is a fluffy golden “mane” of cotton strands. The fruit is the size of a tangerine and is golden and perfectly round with a large pit in the middle. It has an extremely sweet taste and soft juicy flesh. It’s so sweet it often doesn’t need sugar added when used in cakes and pies.

Golems salad: a massive fkn head of kale. Like this thing is freaking the size of a car. It’s a magical variety that grows when eight heads of kale are planted in a circle, and carefully nurtured by a golem monster each day. The result is that monstrosity. Overnight the kale comes together, morphing into one plant and will grow to monstrous sizes. It’s said the bigger the salad the stronger the golem

Tumblers: it’s identical to a normal cabbage and tastes like a normal cabbage, but if you wait too long to harvest it, it will literally jump out of the ground and run away at the vibrations of footsteps. It also hisses.

Sweet salt: a spice from the underground that is ground from the seeds of the fir trees that grow in snowdin. It’s very sweet and is described to taste like a blend of brown sugar, cinnamon and black pepper. Tastes like gyftmas

Gyftmas ornaments: the same seeds you can get from snowdins fir trees can also be peeled and pickled. They make a lovely sweet sour treat and are usually dyed to match gyftmas colors.

Tarotile: a flat leaf from a magical plant related to poison ivy. The plant is toxic to humans but delicious to monsters. It’s banned outside of ebotts shores, and has to be labelled very clearly before being sold. Monsters describe it as tasting like a delicious wild berry blend but with a leafy texture. Makes a delicious tea and is wonderful in sweet salads

Sea eggs: an ebott only variety of seaweed will grow these pockets of soft cucumber like fruit in the stalks. Reportedly all the sea monsters have seen and harvested this plant before the crash. It tastes a bit more sour and citrusy than a normal cucumber but has all the texture and water content of one. Weirdly enough there’s nothing magic about this plant. It just likes ebott

Cattails: not to be confused with the non magical reeds that grow near water, cattails is a popular vegetable grown in ebott. It prefers dryer land, only wanting water every few days. It resembles a golden long grass, and when it’s ready to harvest, the grass ends open up to reveal a fluffy thick fiber inside. The result is a pretty feathery plant resembling a cats tail, hence the name. Pull the fibers and on the ends are little grains that are boiled to use a porridge, a flour substitute, or the binding agent of ebotts famous lion jello.

Heartyheads: a thick leafy bush, what makes it classed as magic is that it literally turns into rose quarts when exposed to fire. But it’s not reliable as a source of quarts since it slowly turns back when cooled down. The young leaves can only be eaten raw but are an amazing source of iron and are said to help with inflammation. This plant can only be killed by being dug out of the ground and left to dry out.

Fizzlers: a tomato like plant that grows small baby tomato sized pink, purple and blue fruits (ornamental ones only for blue) the fruit is a key ingredient in fizzy drinks in place of carbonation. The fruit produces lots of bubbles when exposed to water. They’re delicious and taste just like that fake grape flavor humans love

Gauzeberries: a berry that came from the outer-AUs. They all say they found the mysterious bush growing on the asteroids of the asteroid belt they orbited. The bush has silver white leaves, is very small, rarely growing higher than 2 feet, and produces small white berries encased in a gauzelike silk pouch. The plant only grows in cold temperatures and must be kept in fridge rooms with natural sunlight any month except winter. The berries have a crisp grape like taste and when eaten, causes one to float a few inches off the ground for an hour

Rougish grapes: this is a grape variety developed by two monsters from birdfell, and the rights bought by harpy. It’s a very large crimson red grape, each individual fruit nearly the size of an apricot, and is able to be harvested from summer to fall. The grapes have a sweet but peppery taste and are best fermented into wine. They are also proven to be amazing with hair loss.

Baited breath: a small thistle-like herb that grows beautiful thorny blue flowers. The flowers when they open in the mornings make a sighing noise, like someone exhaling. The seeds of this plant are sweet and aromatic, so are often added to a wide variety of dishes. They were also historically chewed on to clean teeth and are known to help humans and monsters alike recover from cavities

Dragons breath: the larger cousin to bated breath, this large thistle like herb grows to five feet and can make thorny black flowers the size of a humans head. The dragons breath flowers let out a brief puff of flame when they open in the morning, and their seeds are large and spicy in flavor. A very popular snack through all of ebott. They are also ground into a spice called dragons hoard.

Whimselites: this is a small bundle of leaves on a whimsot plant, a low growing vine. It was found in every underground au, and continues to be grown and harvested in the underground. If new leaf growths aren’t harvested, eventually the little bundles open up and pop off the mother plant to start a new one. They go great in salads and taste a lot like rocket leaves.

Snails Bane: the plant looks like a rock, but if you step on it, it’ll squish down secreting a snail like slime. It’s also very toxic to snails and should never be kept near them. The plant when cooked, is cut open and left to dry in the sun, before being sliced and put into stews as a flavoring agent. It tastes like chicken and is a favorite among ebotts vegetarians.

Loomy runners: a small magical radish that has two large roots at the end of its bulb. When exposed to fire, the radish will stand up on its roots and run away like a wobbly baby learning to walk. It must be cut up in pieces before being eaten, and sometimes the radish pieces will still flip around in the oven so covered baking dishes are recommended

Garwins Gourd: a large twisted gourd native to farmswap, garwins gourd is an attractive flamingo pink color when ripe and has a sweet taste not unlike a sweet potato. It can be cut up and puréed for pies or stews, boiled and mashed, or sautéed, but it cannot be eaten raw as heat is needed to bread down the thick fibers of the raw vegetable. The gourd also can be dried and is used as a cute storage container by many farm monsters. In recent years, fans of the plant have been able to grow yellow and orange varieties

Bloodroot: edible by monsters, but must be strained several times to be safe for human consumption, bloodroot is a thick large carrot like root that “bleeds” a crimson liquid when cut. The root eaten on its own tastes like a woody earthy grape mixed with a parsnip. It strangely smells like beef until cooked. The reasons for this is that the plant uses an animals digestive tract to strip the thick outer coat on its seeds. And when they come out the “other end” they can safely sprout when freed from their confines. Carnivorous animals are drawn to the root

Claymore mushroom: if directly stepped on by something heavy, this large blue grey mushroom will explode into large chunks catapulted into the air at speeds of up to 15 mph. It’s native to the factory monsters and farm AUs. The farmtale monsters made a winter sport of catapulting the mushrooms before the crash. The mushroom can be safely harvested by cutting it at the base of the stem, rendering it non-exploding.

Triangle of the coast: a magical cousin to broccoli and cauliflower, the triangle is a triangle shaped broccoli like growth that grows directly in the sand of beaches, and is farmed along a section of ebotts coastline in the winter months. The vegetable is a yellowish green color and tastes just like young broccoli. And for some reason, when picked, it secretes a pheromone that attracts crustacean sea creatures. so it’s also used as fish bait and a vegetable

Ferris-weeds: a cousin to the yarrow herb, Ferris weeds are a magical variety native to the farm and Drake AUs. It’s a tall growing herb, reaching up to 10 feet in height, and has a beautiful pale pink flower in the spring and summer. It’s mainly used to line fences as decor, but the flowers can also be eaten raw, pickled, or sautéed. What makes it magical is that it’s known to provide a full days worth of vitamin D in one meal, no matter the amount of flowers eaten. No one knows how the plant accomplished this

Pygmy pomegranates: this trees only been an official breed in the last five years. Developed by a monster from farmtale, Pygmy pomegranates are a cross breed between crab apples and standard pomegranates. They are perfectly dome shaped with a circle top and a completely flat bottom. The fruit is small, onky the size of a child’s fist, and full of orange pomegranate seeds with a purple skin. They taste just like a normal pomegranate

Deaths pearl: a small bundle of leaves, found deep in the ocean. The roots and lower halves of the leaves are pitch black, while the tips are a transparent blue. The vegetable gets its name from seafell, where a fraction of monsters fought to the death with a sea creature for a patch of the plants. This vegetable is completely edible from its roots, leaves, stems and seeds. It tastes very similar to celery mixed with cucumber. Nowadays it’s cultivated by sea monsters all along ebotts coast and is considered a staple vegetable due to being able to grow year round.

Star seeds: contrary to the name, this is not from the outer AUs but was an underground crop. The seeds of an echo flower are the plants only edible part, and are ground into a fine iron filled flour. They’re rather bitter though, so bread made from them nowadays is often paired with cheese to flavor it.

Spiderbloom: pollinated only by spiders, this plant flowers in the fall and produces fruits in the winter. It creates an eerie black and purple blossom who’s pollen only sticks to spider silk in order to pollenate. The fruits have a soft flesh and taste a bit like figs and blueberries.

Golden flowers: a favorite of the royals, and ebotts national flower and crop. Golden flowers are a beautiful gold magic buttercup that can be dried and turned into tea. They have a lovely effect of softening the hair and skin, and humans claim the tea helps with acne. It’s delicious, sweet and has small hints of lemon in the taste. The flowers are mostly indoor plants as they burn up in direct sunlight.

Mandrakes: a four point magical root that screams when unearthed, the mandrake root is extremely popular for its soft potato like flesh, and the large lineup of nutrients it holds. It’s often mashed, used as a potato substitute, or thrown into stews and soups. It’s a popular baby food as well as its mild taste is comforting for kids, and the quality of it helps parents ensure picky eaters get what they need in a meal

Frog stool mushroom: a large aquatic mushroom resembling a lily pad. It’s found in shallow freshwater areas like lakes and larger parts of streams. This large mushroom is nutty in flavor and is often planted in ponds by farmers for not only its flavor, but also to filter the water on their property to make it safe for the animals to drink. It’s recommended to only eat the small young ones as the large ones after so many years of filtering are more waste than nutrients.

Fishweed: a seaweed that grows along the seaside cliffs of ebott. It’s named after its strong fishy smell. It’s dried and cut into strips and eaten as a snack like jerky or chips

Pearwood tree: this tree has a beautiful bark pattern in the shape of sliced pears. When dry, the bark begins to chip and is easy to peel off. The bark can be infused into drinks giving a crisp grape and lettuce flavor, and has the magical effect of making harmless sparks come out of one’s mouth when they speak. Because of the attractiveness of the trees bark, and the pretty pale green fir spines as leaves, it’s also a popular garden ornament plant as well as a crop

Cinderpetals: a small magic herb with red tipped star shaped leaves. This plant as a defense mechanism will burst into flame when the leaves are picked off. Don’t be alarmed though, the fire is harmless and even adds to the flavor as many monsters say. The leaves have a crisp almost citrusy flavor and are put into potions, drinks and energy tonics due to their natural caffeine content.

Boarberry: it was only seen in horrorfarm and drakefell before the crash. It’s a wild berry bush that parasites off of trees, growing on the sides of the trunks. The berries are a creamy pale green and taste like a bitter plum. They were traditionally used to flavor meads, and were made into jams, pie fillings and baked into breads.

Honeybeans: a climbing magic bean plant that only grows near beehives. It will grow around the hive protecting the bees by secreting pheromones that deter would-be predators, and in return it feeds off the honey as well as the soil near the hive and sunlight. Because of this, the beans are deliciously sweet, tasting like caramel but with the buttery texture of a Lima bean. What makes this plant magic is that when seeds are planted, it seems to summon bees to it. Bees will abandon hives to start building around the bean, or if that’s not convenient enough, the bugs actually uproot the plant itself and Carries it to the hive in an amazing show of teamwork

Silver bells: a droopy vine with silver tipped leaves. It grows a berry like vegetable that resembles a tomato, but with a blue grey skin and a deep purple flesh. The magic fruit entices one to eat it by “calling” its harvester with a tinkling bell noise. The vegetables when hitting each other sound like the light clinking of metal. The vegetable is rather tasteless save for a faint cabbage flavor. It’s very beneficial to bone growth though and is highly recommended that young growing children and the elderly eat some every week.

Ground cherries: a strange magical fruit tree that grows its fruit beneath the soil. The very tip of the small cherry sized fruits are visible peeking through the dirt when they’re ready for harvest. They taste like blue. Some college human students say it’s the closest they’ve ever gotten to the taste of blue Gatorade in ebott

Ebott-only livestock:

Greater turkey: like the name suggests, this is just a massive variety of turkey. The birds can reach the size of cows. Naturally they’re a breed made by the farm AUs. They’re slowly becoming more popular as a holiday food for larger families. Last gyftmas broke the record of greater turkeys slaughtered and sold in one season. Thankfully for the farmers, these birds were bred for temperament as well and are quite gentle and docile

Jimmy crickets: they were previously called roasting crickets, but one witty monster renamed his after Disney started streaming in ebott, and the rest copied him as the bugs became a popular food for kids. It’s a magical variety of cricket that was cultivated underground. They eat moss, and are high in iron, copper, and folate. They’re brightly colored, most normally a bright red. They taste a bit like bacon bits.

Struggle grubs: like the name suggests, this bug was cultivated to be cheap, year round and plentiful. It’s a comfort food for many underground monsters who lived through poverty before the crash. The grubs will eat anything hence why they were labelled as “poor food” as underground they were fed mainly trash. Nowadays farmers feed them much healthier foods and the grubs are much better quality.

Riding/battle boars: funny enough, this type of domesticated hog was only found in horrorfell and drakefell before the crash. Many think that there’s a special connection between the two AUs cause this isn’t the only thing they share. In drakefell they were known as riding boars and were used to pull carts and plows, for eating and dairy, and battle of course. In horrorfarm they were only war animals, used to sniff out enemies and ram through enemy lines. The boar is intelligent like a dog, easily trained, and has an amazing sense of smell. They’re still used as farm hand animals to help plow and de-bug fields. The females can be milked and the cheese made from that milk is very heavy and fatty. They taste like pork, but because of their sacredness to the drakefell monsters and humans, it’s considered a big dishonor to eat one that didn’t die of natural causes.

Lesser deer: a small goat sized deer only found in ebott, they were originally found in the nomads forest. They’re very passive creatures and easily domesticated. Many farms are beginning to add them to livestock because of the delicious soft meat on the animals, and their varied diets.

Rolland’s horned snail: a large cow sized snail bred by the Rolland family from farmswap. The snails on average are the size of draft horses and can weigh nearly a ton. They’re bred purely for their meat and the shells are also sold as decoration, or ground as a binding agent mixed into cement. The snails are fed mainly sawdust, dried grass, and weeds. It takes nearly 20 years for one to reach full size though.

Pearled salmon: a freshwater salmon native to ebott, it can be caught wild or bought from a hatchery. The scales look like pale pink and white pearls underwater, but turn grey when dry. The salmon has a white flesh and the taste is subtler than normal salmon.

Ice pips: this is a thin needle like magic fish that loves cold temperatures so much it creates its own chill. Any room the fish is kept in stays just cold enough to freeze the top of the water in its tank, but not so cold to freeze the whole tank. It is a farmers essential for any farmers who want a proper freezer basement or shed. Almost every farm monster owns a tank of them as it’s much cheaper to feed a few fish crickets every couple days than it is to pay electric for a large shed/room. Rancher and peaches have a tank of pips in their basement, and harpy has a whole massive storage shed cooled by her own tank.

Gremlins: small quail sized ugly little creatures that resemble a cross between a toad, gopher and pug, with wrinkled faces, round bodies and bumpy hairless skin. These little creatures are extremely easy to train and are used on farms to control bug pest levels. They are also slowly gaining popularity as a household pet because of their friendly natures. What makes this animal magic is its tongue which can stretch and shoot out nearly 12 feet at a time in pursuit of a big. Which is clearly magic as the tongue is only a few inches long when resting in the body, and when (gently) pulled by an outside force, it barely gets out of the mouth. A gremlin is edible as well, tasting like chicken by most reports, but farmers who raise them dislike eating the critters as they often can’t help but start viewing them as family.

Land shrimp: it’s literally a shrimp that survives on land. They’re fast breeders and must be kept indoors to prevent an outbreak. They’re fed a mixture of grain, oats, bone, and unwanted meat cuts. The magic shrimp will resort to cannibalism if not fed on time, so require dedication to raise. And yes, they taste like normal shrimp

Smithers basilisk: a long bodied lizard that’s roughly the size of a basset hound, the Smithers basilisk’s true origins are unknown, but have been a common livestock animal for generations among the Drake monsters and humans. The large lizards have a poison sack behind the eyes that are removed after they hatch for safety purposes. They’re raised for a number of reasons: their scaled hides make great leather, the eggs are large and females can lay year round if there’s a male in the pack, and they’re great ratters. So many farmers keep a few to help control the pests on their farm.

Jeweled scarabs: both an animal raised as livestock and a popular pet, these palm sized beetles have stunning shells in a beautiful glossy array of colors looking just like crystal. They’re raised primary for the shells which are harvested when the beetles die of old age. The shells are broken and polished to be used as jewelry, decoration, tile and even used in pottery and glazes. They have a short lifespan of just 2 years sadly, hence why they don’t beat out snails as the most popular pet. The bodies of the beetles are also ground and used as feed for other animals needing protein in their diets.

Roc birds: a poultry bird native to the bird AUs, this was a fat flightless bird that is accustomed to living on rocky cliffs. It has very strong talons and legs in order to climb and move around safely. And a huge oversized beak strong enough to break rocks. The birds are about the size of a duck and have grey speckled feathers. They were bred for their eggs and meat, the hens laying several a day. But they’re difficult to raise as they’re aggressive.

Wooly snails: these snails are about the size of a standard goose when fully grown, and the shells grow a thick fur that needs to be peeled off every few weeks to keep the snail comfortable and mobile. The pelts are then throughly washed and used for clothing, pillow filler, and all other kinds of things. The snails come in a variety of colors with white being the most common, but also a powder blue and lilac. They’re raised mostky by monsters at the top of ebotts mountain range as the snails need cool temperatures to be healthy

Dwarf rock bees: ebott’s special bee variety, the only bee known to be underground. The dwarf rock bee resembles a black fluffy bumblebee, but is so small it can barely cover Abraham Lincoln’s face on a penny. The bees will only create hives in stone structures (or around a honey bean plant) and hives can host millions of bees at a time. The tiny fluff balls are stingless and extremely prone to predators as they had very few underground. When alarmed, they make a shrill buzzing noise together, and copy a frequency that they know scares animals away. For most hives, that means turning their buzzing into a car alarm. Some enthusiasts of the bee keep them indoors in smaller controlled hives and have even trained the bees to copy songs that are repeated often around them. And of course they make honey

Alrighty! There are three ways one can make magical food!

1: it’s a learned magic to add intent to food. Every monster learns it as children. It’s just one of those things your parents are supposed to teach you, like driving or how to clean.

Intent affects the foods taste and sometimes even gives it mild healing properties. So someone making a batch of cookies with a lot of love and passion can make some hecking fine cookies. However there’s a limit. Pour too much passion (or any type of intent really) and you’ll burn the food. Even if you’re not using heat to cook.

This is why undyne regularly nukes her kitchen

2: plants can become magical after several generations of being exposed to magic. That’s why the underground was able to host so many plant varieties despite the lack of sunlight. This can’t really be controlled since it happens randomly. Any food cooked with the plants has magical properties as well

3: the farmtale monsters have perfected earth magic over the centuries. Any native born farmtale monster has the ability to bond to the land they own and produce much higher quality, quantity, and magical produce. This includes animals too. They become more docile, intelligent, and produce more. The magical skill of bonding to your land is seen as familial magic and can only be passed down through blood

And finally, some famous drinks and dishes only found in ebott!!!

Gauzeberry freeze: the expensive but delicious drink consists of milk, shaved ice, honey, blueberries, coconut and of course gauzeberries. It’s sold only in special occasions like national holidays. Otherwise the only way to get it is to make it at home, which is quite difficult due to the nature of gauzeberries. It does make one float a few inches off the ground for an hour after drinking

Fries and bits: mixed bugs, most commonly crickets, are cleaned and fried with potato wedges, and in fancier dishes, onion rings and fried artichoke hearts are added. It’s a greasy but delicious meal and many fried fast food places sell this dish

Boars honor stew: a dish coming from drakefell. When a drakes boar dies, whether from old age, an injury, or sickness, never intentionally slaughtered for food, their burial ritual for the animal is to stew it in a massive pot filled with potatoes, other root vegetables, blood root, boar berries, dragons breath and a load of mushrooms. The boar is carefully cleaned, and the blood used to fertilize the drakes, or communities crops. Then the animal is put in the pot whole and stewed for around four days before being passed around and eaten. It’s a dish meant to be shared, not bought. So to be offered some is a great honor

Roc on rocks: it requires a roc bird for the traditional version of the dish, but chicken will do too for a close substitute. The breast meat of a roc bird is thinly sliced and marinated in an orange citrus sauce for a few hours. Then traditionally a flat rock is heated up, and the thin slices are cooked on top, then laid on a bed of cabbage and thinly sliced carrots before being served. However pan frying is a safe at home substitute if one doesn’t have a big rock and outdoor campfire

Golden pearwood tea cake: goldenflowers and pearwood bark are dried and made into tea. The tea must be strained and left in the fridge to chill while the cake base is created. It’s preferred to use a nut flour like almond or hazelnut. The cake flour is then moistened with the tea, and a light honey glaze is added on top when it comes out of the oven

Cinder-spark: a popular energy drink brand made in ebott from cinderpetals. It comes in three flavors: jalapeño, spicy strawberry and electric orange. All flavors are spicy with electric orange being the mildest. Never drink more than two a day

Treasure chests: a shiny beautiful salad dish of heartyheads, leafy greens, beets, sea eggs, deaths pearl, and topped with cooked pearled salmon. It’s a beautiful colorful dish and a favorite at seafood restaurants along seashore. And it’s extremely nutritious

Snaproot pockets: like the name suggests, it’s a little baked pouch filled with puréed snaproot. It’s created with either mochi flour or cattail flour, the little flour pouch is filled with mashed or puréed snap root, and is topped with seeds like sesame after being baked. This dish can also be made with pumpkin and garwins gourds instead of snaproot.

Lions jello: made from boiled cattails, and infused with goldenflower tea, this is ebotts national desert. The cattails make an attractive milk white jello with a light airy taste, and the goldenflower adds flavor and speckles of gold inside. It’s a beautiful dessert and is a favorite of many of the royals

Snail pie: ebotts national dish: this is a pie filled with cubed snail meat, pearled onions, garlic, many spices to taste, and spinach. The pie is baked like a normal pot pie and is usually topped with seeds for better looks. Mini versions are sold at festivals and food trucks, and kids in public school get mini snail pies on Fridays for lunches.

Silver broth: made from boiled silver bells and bones, this broth is a popular soup base because of its mild taste, and is highly recommended that parents use it when cooking for their children as it promotes healthy bone, teeth and ecto growth. In winter months too, it’s sold alone as a savory drink with sliced dried mushrooms and spring onions as an alternative to sugary hot drinks

Wailing baby mash: it’s a terrible name but parents seem to think it’s funny. Mandrakes are mashed with other veggies (and often a bit of silver broth is added) to make a soft baby food safe for monsters and human babies old enough for solid food. It has a mild taste which is pleasant for kids. Many parents used mashed mandrakes in place of mashed potatoes well into their kids childhood as a healthier and cheaper alternative

Goths on toast: another terrible name, Asgore really sucks at naming things, and he’s to blame for this one as the creator asked him to endorse the dish. A delicious spread is made from the fruit of a spiderbloom, blackberries and dark or ground cherries. The fruit spread is spiced with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg and spread on bread as a sweet morning breakfast. It’s often paired with fancy cheeses and is served as a dish to show off your class. No charcuterie board in ebott is complete without this spread

Pigment potion: twigs mixed with alcohol creates a magic drink that can change the color of one’s ecto, hair/fur and eyes. The more diluted the drink, the shorter the effect. And to control what color the drink becomes, it needs to be hand made with a certain color in mind. A drink of magic, intent and booze. Any sort of alcohol does fine so usually cheap wine is used. And in festivals, watered down versions are allowed to be sold to children as long as a parent is present

Gyftmas cookies: of course they have to be baked with sweet salt. These brown cookies are made with the sweet salt spice, molasses, plain flour and honey. They’re decorated of course and are part of a popular gyftmas tradition called the cookie trade. At parties, each family shows up with a plate of cookies, and they go around having to swap one of their cookies on the plate for one from another’s family. By the end of the party, they go home with a plate from multiple families.

Crabby patties: this name was popular way before SpongeBob was introduced to ebott. There was a fierce legal battle between Marcelo and Nickelodeon for him to keep the name of the popular dish sold at his grocery stores. He just barely won, and the name is only allowed to be used with free reign in ebott lol. Crabby patties are smoked crab apple thinly sliced and pickled, then placed on a slab of either cooked snail or cooked hamburger patty. The bun is traditionally wrapped cabbage leaves, but bread buns are more popular on the surface these days. Every hamburger place has a crabby patty burger on their menu.

Fae floss: pasta from boiled flossy sticks is topped with a thick brown sauce made from goats cheese, powder shrooms, and finely chopped herbs. Other mushrooms are added to the pasta and often bugs like grubs, chopped beetles or worms are added. If bugs aren’t your cup of tea, shredded chicken is fine instead

Mead of lady magic: this mead is flavored with pomegranate seeds and honey beans to make a rich mild drink. It was also used in rituals by the temple monsters before the crash, and is still considered a holy drink by them. Only made and drank on sacred days.

Sun therapy: this light sandwich is made with pickled Ferris weed flowers, salami and mozerella cheese. The sandwich is toasted and topped with more cheese. A delicious meal full of vitamin D

Tarotile cheesecake. A plain slice of cheesecake, colored a deep forest green by adding Tarotile to the cooking process. The cake tastes like a wonderful wild berry blend according to monsters, but is highly toxic to humans and mages. Any one who dares sell it to a human without signed consent can be arrested and held for trial on attempted bodily harm.

[thegreenleavesofspring]

The Time Sea

@inklings-challenge I hope this fits the requirements because I have bullied this into its final form.

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Gritty sand beneath her, and she dragged herself higher up the strand, the waves lapping greedily at her sodden dress. Tiny rippling wavelets washing up to pull out again with a dizzying feeling of the ground itself rushing from beneath her. She shivered there awhile, barely conscious of the lightning limning the roaring sea behind her in silver, painting the cliff above her white. The thunder blended with the noise of the waves, none of it touching her consciousness as she drifted.

The heavy black of night slithered into the dark grey of a stormy dawn. She came back to herself, shivering violently in her wet dress. The waves that had deposited her on this shore retreated down the sand, now. Her fingers were numb, hair clinging to her face like seaweed between sand grains. She brushed ineffectively at her face with shaking hands and blanched fingers. Hypothermia, her mind supplied helpfully, and then, get up and walk, it will help warm you up and you may find shelter.

She stood and looked at the cliff rising above her. It was a very small cliff, as cliffs went; only five or six times her height. The thought of trying to scale it in yards of drenched material and with numb fingers made her quail.

The storm had not passed over, though the rain had ceased for the moment; a sudden crack and roll of thunder made her jump. She glanced out at the tide – starting to come in again, now, but not quickly; she had a few moments – and backed up to look up at the top of the cliff.

Lightning flashed very helpfully in that precise moment, drawing her eye up towards the castle crouched atop the hill above the cliff. It seemed a very vampire’s lair, all sharp spires and sheer black stone and cramped window slits with no light in them and flying buttresses spiderwebbing between the towers. She rather fancied she saw bats dancing around the top of the tallest tower as tiny black specks.

It was the least inviting building imagination could conjure, but she was of a very practical turn of mind, and even the least inviting building with all its imagined horrors would be less dreadful than waiting on this narrow strip of cliff-bottom beach to be sucked back into the hungry waves behind her, or dying slowly of cold.

The castle’s inhabitants, it seemed, enjoyed trips to the beach, at times, for a thorough exploration of the bottom of the cliff revealed a narrow twisting path up the rock-face. Perhaps, she thought to herself as she hoisted her bundle of skirts – all shape lost in the ocean to a formless mass of heavy cloth, crusted stiff with salt – they came down on finer days than this, when all was sunny and the sea was calm and glass-green. Or perhaps, she thought humorously, they were vampires indeed, and descended only on the full moons to dance gruesome dances upon the strand.

The castle was further away than it had appeared from the beach, and rain started sheeting down just as she attained the grass at the top of the cliff. She heaved a deep despondent sigh, her hair slicking down around her face and shoulders all over again, shivering uncontrollably now, and started her forward slog, clutching her stomach to try and keep warm. Thunder shook the skies and ground around her, rattling through her bones. Lightning shot white and violet and indigo from sky to ground, and she peered forward at the castle each time, orienting herself off those jagged spires. A pebbled path ran from castle to cliff, but now it ran with water, a miniature rapid rushing along and tugging at her feet.

She was too tired to fight the current, slight as it was, and stepped off into the grass beside the path. The water rose to her ankles as she splashed through puddles, washing the salt and grime of the ocean from her feet and replacing it with tiny blades of grass and fragments of leaves and one very startled frog that rode on her arch for two steps before leaping away with a disgruntled cro-oak.

Her stomach had ceased its growling complaints and her mind was nearly as numb as her extremities by the time she fetched up against the rough stone and wood of the castle. She took a stumbling step back from the unyielding wall and looked around and realized that the path had widened into a drive and swooped right up to a broad shallow front step and a niche with imposing double doors. An unlit torch was set in an iron bracket to the side of it; if it had ever blazed with fire the wind and rain had long since snuffed it.

She considered sheltering in the door nook for all of half a second before another gust of wind sent her stumbling forward a step. Her mind made up, she mounted the stairs, wadded her hand inside a length of her voluminous sleeve, and lifted the massive iron knocker.

It fell with a boom that echoed through the house and faded into the thunder a half-second behind it. But the door was not even latched; the weight and momentum of the knocker pushed it ajar a few inches. She took a hitching breath and peeked in through the crack and then pushed the door open a little farther and slipped inside, leaning back against the rough wood on her hands to close it as she took in the hall.

It was long and narrow and soared to heights she could not see in the dark; the lightning coming in the windows insufficient to show the ceiling. At the far end of the hall – a mile away, it seemed – a tiny fire glowed in a massive fireplace that entirely dwarfed it. Open, doorless entryways to other rooms gaped cavernous to either side, black and opaque as pitch. The walls were bare and carved into sharp pillar motifs, climbing high out of sight. Everything was sharp and spiky and looked deeply uncomfortable and unhomelike, but there was a fire at the end of the hall and she was so cold…

Her footsteps echoed across the bare floor – marble perhaps; it was hard to tell in this dimness – rising all the way to the distant unseen ceiling and reverberating off all the walls over and over before whispering away into silence. But she did not let it stop her; she lightened her footfalls as much as she could and hurried over to the fire, whimpering in gratitude as she held her hands into the hearth itself to stick them over the anemic flames.

A bang from behind her startled her badly – she jumped and turned, scanning the hall. A staircase she had hitherto not seen, set back where the wall had fallen away – she had not seen it in her rush to get to the fire – rose to split into opposite directions. A thin wavering light hovered on the balcony of the second floor (she supposed it was the second floor) – a torch, held aloft in a hand cast deep into shadow. A tall figure held it; she caught a glimpse of a large hooked nose and robes the color of blood beneath silver-streaked auburn hair, two black eyes glittering like moonlight on a forest pool deep beneath craggy brows.

“Welcome, traveler,” the figure rumbled; a man’s deep voice. She shivered, staring up at him, caught in – not fear, precisely. He did not sound hostile or threatening. Unease, perhaps. Awe. Mind-numbing exhaustion.

When she did not respond he continued, “A room is being prepared for you. I… did not expect visitors tonight. Perhaps I should have,” he added lower, as if to himself, but the vast chamber caught his voice and carried it to her clearly. “My hospitality is not what it would usually be. Nonetheless, you will find water for washing, and food, and a change of clothes – though they may not be precisely what you are used to, they will serve for tonight.”

She found her voice at last, tongue heavy and throat sore with salt; her voice came out in an unfamiliar rasp. “Thank you, kind sir.”

His robes shifted; she caught a glimpse of a pale strong hand as he waved it dismissively. “It is my job. When you are ready, ascend these stairs and come down here where I am standing. There is a torch in the bracket beside your room.”

The promise of a wash and warm dry clothes and food was enough to send her scrambling for the stairs upon the instant. But she paused a moment at the top, looking up at the massive diamond-paned windows that rose before her. She had not seen them from the beach, nor approached from an angle that permitted view of them. But now she stood a moment, gazing out upon the storm-lashed ocean, the sun hidden behind frothing masses of grey-black cloud. Arcs of lightning speared down from the heavens to the water below, showing for just a minute waves high as buildings and hills and black as tar, shining like obsidian for fractions of a second.

She shivered, so very grateful to no longer be adrift in that furious sea, and turned to go up the staircase to her left. There was no sign of her host, now, but his torch had been left, as he promised, outside an iron-chased door.

It looked more like a dungeon door than a guest’s bedchamber, but she did not take time to worry about it, pushing the door open. A gasp of utter relief from her chapped lips – a fire, much larger than the one below, roared in the cozy little fireplace. The stone floor here was covered with a thick sheepskin, and a giant brass tub sat waiting and steaming before the hearth. Covered dishes sat on a small table in the middle of the room with a single chair drawn up; a four-poster bed stood against the far wall, buried under layers of quilts and blankets. A small heap of folded clothes lay atop it, and a single fluffy towel.

Part of her wished to take forever in the heavenly hot water, but cramping pains in her stomach alerted her that this would not be a good idea. She stepped out and wrapped herself in the towel – warming by the fire during her bath, soft as a summer cloud and almost as white – moving as close as was safe to the fireplace for a few moments. Her shivering had finally subsided in the bath, but she still basked in the heat, her skin prickling as it slowly warmed back up.

The food was simple and heavy – stew with beef and potatoes, some kind of green leafy vegetable, rolls split in the top with pats of butter pushed in to melt into the bread. A large mug of tea sat beside the plate and bowl. She scarcely paused to give thanks before falling on the food, devouring it down to crumbs and smears of gravy.

For all she knew, the master of this castle was indeed a vampire. But he had yet to offer her harm, and indeed had been very kindly and welcoming to the waif that had blown in his front door. The sheer exhaustion weighing on her now annihilated any reasonable caution. With no concern that it was, beyond the storm, still broad day, she hied herself right into that inviting bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was broad daylight when she woke up again, too, the storm passed at last. She lay a minute, looking out at the azure-washed sky. Not a cloud to be seen anymore, but only an endless blue as deep as the ocean beneath it.

Out from beneath the heavy blankets – a drab dark green, but warm and cozy and slightly scratchy – and over to the window. The surf still ran high, the waves topped with foam as though the clouds had fallen from the sky to the sea. She stared, oddly mesmerized, for far too long, until hunger pangs reminded her that it would perhaps be prudent to seek breakfast.

She turned. The table had been cleared of its dishes, a single folded piece of strange parchment left in its place. She opened it and stared blankly at the script within; nothing she recognized.

She shook her head and set it aside, lifting the dress hung carefully over the back of the chair. It was nearly as strange as the writing on the odd parchment, with thin sleeves that clung to the arms and a bodice that laced almost up to the neck and a severe lack of ornamentation. But it was a delicate rose-pink that pleased her much more than the deep purple of her own dress, and it swept modestly all the way to the floor. Perhaps even more importantly, it was easy enough to get into without assistance.

The castle was nearly as intimidating by daylight as by thundering dim, severely plain without any relieving decorations. Dark blue-grey walls and black marble floors swallowed light, returning only a reluctant polished shine. But the vast windows at the stairs had an even better view of sea and sky and horizon than her own window had had, and she found herself arrested once more by the eternally shifting palette of blues and greens and greys.

She stood, lost a moment in time, as she watched the ocean, before turning and descending the stairs. A table had been set up before the massive fireplace with its comically small fire, and a hearty if simple breakfast laid out across it. Two chairs were pulled up before the table, and she assumed her mysterious host would be joining her.

She sat down, resolutely ignoring the tempting smells wafting up from the food spread across the table. Her stomach growled and she dug her fists into her gut to silence it, looking around at the stark hall and the sunlight sliding across the floor rather than the meal spread out.

The silence was oppressive. There was not even a clock to show the time passing, only the black stone walls and black marble floors and the bright yellow sunlight creeping back towards the near wall and the slowly cooling food.

The bang of a door upstairs startled her badly and she jumped before twisting in her chair to look over at the staircase. Her mysterious host was joining her at last, it seemed, his footfalls heavy and brisk as he descended the stairs towards her. “Good morning, lady.”

She rose at his approach. “Good morning, my lord.”

She studied him now, in the bright morning light. Grey-streaked auburn hair and a great curved nose, deep lines chiseled in his face around a heavy brow and kind dark eyes. He was truly absurdly tall, towering over her head and shoulders, a shapeless mass of deep wine-red cloak. It was quite impossible to judge his age; he looked perhaps middle-aged, save that there was some indefinable ancient air that hung over his shoulders like his garments.

He stood examining the table with a faint frown that looked rather forbidding on his heavy-featured face. “Did you not receive my note, lady?”

“I… could not read it,” she admitted, brushing nervous fingers down the thick material of her borrowed dress.

He turned that intense frowning regard on her person and she stilled. “Untaught,” he asked slowly, “or the script was unfamiliar to you?”

“It was… unfamiliar to me.”

He studied her a moment longer before sweeping a long hand, bones and sinews standing out beneath the skin, towards the table. “Please, sit and eat.”

He sat opposed to her and for awhile they both broke their fasts in silence. Only as their concentration lapsed into dallying did he brush his lips with an old ivory napkin and query, “And the dress. Was it also unfamiliar to you?”

She looked down at herself. In the bright morning light, it was truly lovely. But… “Yes, my lord, it also is unfamiliar.”

“My goodness,” the man murmured to himself. “I must be slipping. I have not misjudged an origin in… quite some time.” For some reason this last comment made him smile grimly.

She plucked up her courage. “My lord, I beg you to forgive my impertinence,” she began.

He gestured again, the craggy face settling into kindly lines. “I am no lord,” he interrupted. “You may call me… the Keeper, if you wish. Ask whatever you will, child.”

She squared her shoulders. “Where is this place, pray, sir? And do you live here all alone?”

“I do.” He reached languidly for his tea cup. “I am the Keeper of this castle, and of the shore below. The ocean below us is the Time Sea – people who are lost to the ocean are brought to my shores. It is my job to assess their original location and time, and send them home.”

This seemed entirely reasonable, but she had a concern. “And how do you do that?”

He smiled slightly. “Well, I am afraid you will have to cross the Time Sea again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boat was small and unprepossessing and she regarded with with deep wariness and distrust. Her dress was remarkably clean – the Keeper had put it in something he called a Washing Machine, deep in the depths of the castle – and returned to its old familiar shape. She lifted the bundle of her skirts, took a deep breath, and stepped into the rocking little shell of wood.

“And this will bear me home?” she asked nervously.

The Keeper brushed long slender fingers over the gold-embossed runes carved into the rim of the boat, the wood around them stained the same black that was between the stars at night. “It will bear you where I have told it to bear you, and I have told it to bear you home.”

Hours spent in a library taller than the hall downstairs, the maze between the shelves miles long, the domed arch of the ceiling made almost entirely of glass so that sunlight would pour in no matter the time of day. Maps and books spread out across the heavy oaken tables, dusty tomes that weighed as much as she did and were nearly as tall. Gadgets and gewgaws in crystal cases and on shelves and sitting upright on the thick forest-floor green carpet, gold and brass and silver and many other metals she did not recognize, amazing and incomprehensible. A map of the heavens all along wall that one could study for ten years and not examine all of it.

She wandered in awe-struck exploration while the Keeper consulted his books and his maps and his gizmos. It was, perhaps, hours that they were in that wondrous library, or maybe days; time seemed to pass differently here.

She could have spent ten years there without losing interest.

But amber light was stretching towards the far wall, the sun plunging towards its own brilliantly multi-hued setting, when at last the Keeper stood upright. “I believe I have found your time and place,” he announced. “It may be less fearsome for you to cross the Time Sea by daylight, so you will depart tomorrow – such as it is.”

The food that night was the food of her home – the sleep-clothes laid out for her were the old familiar type she wore every night. Her own dress awaited her the next morning, laid out carefully across the chair. The same breakfast on the table in the hall that she ate every morning.

It felt like having a piece of home with her here in this strange place.

It was jarring.

She sat very carefully. The rocking of the tiny boat made her uneasy, an instinct hissing that it would tip and dump her out again, that those waves were dreadfully large and rough.

“Are you ready?” the Keeper asked where he crouched on the slick wet boulder, holding her boat securely.

Her heart quailed, anxiety seeping up her throat like bile. “Yes.”

“Then may the Lord of All Creation return you safe home.” He shoved her tiny vessel out into the ocean and she suppressed the urge to clutch the sides by clutching her skirts instead, swallowing a nervous shriek.

“Farewell!” he called behind her, and she dared to carefully twist and look back. He stood still on his pile of rock some yards into the ocean. His shapeless robe wet to the thighs and clinging, even as spray and sea-wind alike whipped his hair. The spires of his dark castle behind him stabbing the sky, their secrets well-hidden behind the thick stone.

She rode the waves, the swells cradling her fragile boat like a mother cradling the soft head of her newborn, watching until the very tallest tower-peak sank out of sight. She sighed softly and settled into facing front again. For a long second, she was surrounded entirely by ever-shifting blue-green water, before another wave caught and lifted her high towards the cloud-daubed heavens above.

A strip of pricklingly familiar coastline ahead of her – docks and quays and shops and houses and ships and sailors and darting urchins and dogs. She gazed at it a moment in wonder and awe but no surprise at all.

The wave dropped her into a trough that propelled her forward quickly enough that she swayed back with a startled squeak. Another wave rose beneath her and crested and slung her forward like a stone from a boy’s sling, her boat overturning and vanishing under the waves behind her.

She thrashed amid bubbles rushing through the emerald water. Garbled shouts came to her submerged ears as she struggled to reach the surface. A hand seized the back of her dress and she was yanked up into open air, and then over the rough side of a crude wooden boat to land in a slippery pile of fish. Two bearded grizzled men stared down at her in considerable astonishment. “Where’d ye come from, missy?” the older one demanded. “An’ how’d ye get way out here?”

She blinked up at them. She had not realized how much she had missed the familiar accents of her people over the last two days. “My ship was wrecked in a storm.”

“The storm last night?” the younger, taller man asked, nodding. “The flotsam has been coming in today. But where have you been all this time?”

“All this time,” she murmured to herself. A dark pointy castle rose in her mind’s eye. “I was lost in the Sea of Time. But I am home now.”

[ihni]

Seagulls.

His body is alight with indescribable pain, and there's a crumbling mall around him and a monster in front of him and tentacles like knives in his chest, his sides, his back -

He can't breathe. Exhaled all the air in his lungs on that scream, his last scream, a final act of defiance against a monster that he didn't have the strength to defy until now, and now he can't draw in new breath, he can't -

There were noises. Pandemonium. Concrete cracking, glass shattering, metal bending. Explosions, roaring. Screams. He's pretty sure there were screams. They might still be there, but they're drowned out by the sounds of -

Seagulls.

He blinks, and for a second the destroyed ceiling of the mall and the dark sky beyond turns blue, the light blue of a cloudless summer day. He blinks again, and it's gone.

He's lying down, and it's cold tiles against his back and there's blood underneath him but the blood warms him like sand on the beach, and he blinks again and the blue sky is back and the cacophony of noise is blending together to a buzzing, to white noise, to something rythmic like -

Waves breaking. Swash on sand.

Someone bends over him. A girl. Long red hair, crying, she's in pain like he's in pain and oh god he's in so much pain, but he doesn't want her to hurt so he says -

"I'm sorry"

- and doesn't know what he's sorry for.

He blinks. The sky is blue, the air smells like salt, and someone is bending over him. A woman. Long blonde hair, smiling. She reaches out a hand and gently brushes a bloody strand of hair out of his face.

He can't move. His body is broken, there are holes in his chest, his blood is full of crushed glass, tearing him up from the inside. It's worse than anything and everything he has ever experienced, is enough to push every memory and rational thought right out of his head and replace it with agony.

"It hurts," he says, and it's a sob, a wheeze, blood bubbling out between his lips.

"I know," someone says, and it's a woman. Long blonde hair, smiling. Familiar. Her hand is on his cheek, her fingers brushing away the tears that are drawing clean paths through the grime on his temples. Her touch is soft, cool on his burning skin, soothing -

Something wet hits his face, something salty like a tear, but that doesn't make sense because no one is crying but him. The sky is blue above him and the sand is warm beneath him and the sounds around him are of seagulls and waves, and that must be it, not a teardrop but a splash from the sea; salty and wet, as if the ocean itself cries for him -

"It hurts," he says again, because it does, but there's a woman there, with long blonde hair, and he knows her, it's -

"Mom"

- and her smile widens and her hands are on his face and her smile is the sun, is warmth and comfort and peace.

"I'll kiss it better," she says, and bends down and places her lips on his forehead, lightly, barely touching.

He closes his eyes, and takes what feels like the first breath in forever. Something like life blooms from her touch.

She presses a kiss to each of his closed eyelids, and he feels his heart restart in his chest and can't remember when it stopped.

She kisses his cheek, and the background noises - that aren't the seagulls, or the sounds of waves - fade. Another kiss on his other cheek, and the sky stabilizes, and stays blue. He can't recall what it used to be, before.

"It still hurts," he murmurs, confused but at peace, but she kisses his bare chest where a hole should be, and there's nothing there but unbroken skin.

"Does it?" she asks, laughter in her tone, and he realizes that no, it doesn't. Where before there was a wildfire raging in every inch of his body, now there's only the gentle warmth of the sun bearing down on them both. There's no more pain, because his mother kissed it better, just like she said she would.

He sits up. Digs his toes into the white sand, looks out over the endless blue in front of him, sky and water, meeting at the horizon far from here, before he turns and looks at the woman beside him. His mother.

"I've missed you," he says, "Please don't leave", and his voice cracks like he hasn't seen her in a long time, but he can't remember ever being away from her, can't remember anything but this moment, right here.

"Oh baby," she says, and her arms are around him. They don't reach all the way around his shoulders, and for a second there is a fleeting memory of another hug, a lifetime ago, where his shoulders were smaller, where he was smaller, but as soon as it appeared it fades. "I won't leave you, ever again."

There's seagulls and a blue sky, cool waves meeting warm sand and his mother's arms around him, and everything feels right.

He buries his face in her long, blonde hair as she murmurs in his ear, "You're finally home."

[mimiriko]

I need more merman geto in my life

part one

Your heart hasn’t stopped weighing down on your chest ever since you managed to gather your jelly legs together and run back home from the ocean. It’s an emotion hard to describe, plenty to feel.

Restlessness, dizziness. A hole gnawing itself bigger as days go by.

In daylight, you don’t escape him. Not when the biting smell of sea salt still lingers in each breath you take, filling your lungs with an acid hard to neutralise. The books you once bubbled with excitement to read now seem bleak in your hands as you stand motionless in an aisle of your library. A frequent place you visit. With its mahogany hardwood floors and a slew of soft fairy lights hung all over. A contrast you welcome from the waters plaguing your mind.

But maybe you don’t know it well enough. Otherwise you wouldn’t have felt surprised at a wide section of books in the fifth aisle full of sea life and its wonders. It felt like mockery, faith taking pity on your frazzled form. Your nimble fingers clasp around the binding, flipping through pages as strands of smooth dark hair dance over the surface of your memory.

At night, submerged in dreams where you are supposed to be the one with the handle, he takes control. You see him in his blue domicile, swimming in all his glory—elegant with the strokes of his tail and powerful with the force of them. Bulldozing through waves like a whetted blade on skin.

You dream about him through third person, looking into his hypothetical life behind a stained glass window. Sometimes you’re even right next to him, with your tails intertwined like two capillaries ready to join into a vein.

You wonder what your tail would look like. You remember his to be blue and purple.

The veil of fear you forged around yourself lasted one whole December, before you decided for the new year, you would return.

The snarl of winter keeps all life away from your home. Polarised, just the way you like it. Frosty sand prickles your feet and you stretch your toes in response. Each layer of clothing you strip off makes your blood wail, bones rattle.

You take a step into the wet sand, when all you have on is safety shorts and a tank top, and relish the way it sinks slightly with your weight. Fizzing sea foam clings to your ankles in a greeting, and the water changes its shape around you as you walk deeper.

It was always supposed to be like this, you think.

——————

He senses you before he sees you.

Your scent is different from the rest of humans. It lays thick on his tongue, overpowering with familiarity. It finds him every time, through valleys and bundles of waves, like a lost child in search of its home.

To the rest of his clan, it’s just another breath in their gills. To him, it’s a calling.

And he always picks up.

His heart beats like a rabbit as the space between the two of you slims; a gulf that narrows into a pond, but this time he halts at a place much farther than he’s used to.

That’s because it is you who is swimming much ahead of your usual distance.

Strange, flowy material hugs your figure, rippling like river water against the soil bed. Your movements are small but filled with purpose, and a warm burst of light explodes in his chest as his eyes catch your face above the surface, splashes of water hitting your chin in a way that oddly endears him.

He flicks his tail, suddenly skittish when you stop.

A chorus of voices in his head sing closer closer closer. Until the soles of your feet are near, and he leans forwards to face them. You remain calm, unaware—in search of the silhouette that haunts you.

Geto quietly breaks the water, and your shock almost sends you reeling.

———————

There’s an unearthly beauty to him. Angular features, slender nose and salmon lips. Milky skin with soft cheeks you crave to cup. The path down his neck and shoulders are delicately moulded and held by string, the rest dissolving into a smudge underwater, dim twinkles of his marble scales catching your vision.

“I didn’t expect to find you so quickly,” you rasp, voice rough from disuse of the day.

“Couldn’t let my human shiver in the water for too long, can I?”

My human.

Maybe you were in his thoughts just as much as he had been in yours.

“..No,” you softly say, “I guess not.”

“You have a habit of coming when the God’s above are peeved,” he says with mirth, intently watching you tilt your head.

“The Gods abov… you mean the weather?”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “The Gods' control the change of the atmosphere, so yes, the weather.”

You blink. “I see. Do you not feel the cold?”

“Sometimes,” he admits, “We have alcoves for shelter. Mainly for children.”

He hesitates before adding: “Would you like to see?”

[wheelchair-wizard]

Irish Myths

VOL 9. The SELKIE. An Irish Mermaid Story

The Selkie’s Secret

In a forgotten corner of the Emerald Isle, where cliffs stood like ancient guardians and the waves whispered forgotten lullabies, there dwelled a fisherman named Eamon. His cottage clung to the rugged coast, its thatched roof weathered by countless storms. Eamon was a man of few words, his eyes etched with the sorrows of a lifetime spent chasing elusive fish and memories.

One tempest-laden evening, as rain drummed upon the windowpanes and the sea roared its defiance, Eamon stumbled upon a sight that would forever alter the course of his existence. There, nestled amidst the seaweed-strewn rocks, lay a treasure—a seal pelt of silver-gray, soft as moonlight and shimmering with otherworldly grace. Eamon’s gnarled fingers traced its edges, and he knew he held something more than mere fur. This was the skin of a Selkie—a creature of myth and melancholy.

The legends whispered of Selkies—of their dual existence, their fluidity between land and sea. By day, they swam as seals, their sleek bodies slicing through the icy depths. But when the moon hung low, they shed their skins, emerging as ethereal women, their eyes reflecting the mysteries of the abyss.

Eamon hid the pelt beneath his bed, its presence a secret shared only with the wind and the salt. Days turned into weeks, and his cottage became a sanctuary for the lost and the weary. Sailors sought refuge from raging storms, widows mourned husbands swallowed by the sea—all found solace within those walls. Yet Eamon’s gaze often strayed to the hidden pelt, wondering if the Selkie would return.

Then, one moonless night, as the stars blinked like ancient eyes, Eamon heard it—a melody that tugged at his heart, a lament woven from moonbeams and longing. He rushed to the window, and there she stood: the Selkie. Her skin was pale as foam, her hair a cascade of seaweed green. Her eyes held the wisdom of ages, and her lips curved in both fear and hope.

She was naked, vulnerable—a creature caught between realms. Eamon retrieved the pelt, its silvery strands slipping through his fingers like water. He held it out to her, voice barely a whisper. “Take it,” he said. “Be free.”

The Selkie’s tears glistened. She reached for the pelt, her fingers trembling. But then she hesitated, torn between love and duty. For Selkies faced a cruel choice: to remain with mortal lovers or return to the sea. Their hearts were bound by moonlight and salt spray.

Eamon understood. He had glimpsed eternity in her eyes, tasted salt and starlight on her lips. And so, with a bittersweet smile, he released her. The Selkie donned her pelt, her form shifting until she became a sleek seal once more. She nuzzled his cheek, a silent farewell, before slipping into the waves.

As the sea swallowed her, Eamon wept—for love unspoken, for a Selkie lost, and for the ache that would haunt him till his dying day. He walked the cliffs thereafter, eyes scanning the horizon, listening for her song—a melody carried by the wind, sung by a Selkie who danced beneath the moon.

And so, the legend of Eamon and the Selkie passed from generation to generation—a tale of sacrifice, of love that transcended realms, and of a fisherman who held the sea’s secrets close to his heart.

And there, my friend, ends our journey—a whisper of magic and longing that lingers in the salt-laden air, where Selkies still dance upon moonlit shores

Christy,

Male, Husband, Dad, Family man, Friendly, Easygoing.

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[commander-krios]

I can now reveal my Shenko Summer fic for @dandenbo. <3 I'm so happy you enjoyed it! Special shoutout to my beta, @comeoniwantacoolname for always helping me out!

Title: Reflections and Regrets Rating: Teen Pairing: MShepard/Kaidan Alenko Summary:

Five times Kaidan nearly confessed his feelings to Shepard and the one time he did.

Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 5+1, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Major Character Injury

~~~~

-1-

Smoke.

Kaidan could still smell the smoke on his clothing, mixed with salt water and conductive fluid. He'd intended to change after a long hot shower, but the debrief had taken the rest of his energy, and he hadn’t moved since. Sitting in the silent comm room, he hunched over, hands hanging between his knees, eyes staring at nothing in particular. 

The edges of his vision blurred and he closed his eyes, images of the battlefield as clear as the Virmire skies had been barely a few hours ago. The shake in Ashley’s voice as her pleas echoed in his ears: ‘get Alenko, Skipper. That bomb needs to go off.’

Shepard’s insistence that he could get both of them to safety, that it was important that they all survived this, that he wasn’t going to leave a man behind.

Shepard’s turmoil as realization set in, and the impossible choice he made at the very last moment…

Ashley .

She’d paid the ultimate price so the rest of them could escape, so that the bomb could take out the cloning facility. So that Saren’s krogan army was reduced to nothing but ash and bones, a smoking pile of ruins and dust amid the salty seas.

Sure, Kaidan was grateful to be alive, but not like this, not at the expense of someone else. Especially not Ashley Williams.

A sigh escaped, loud in the silent room. Kaidan stretched his legs out in front of him, willing the stiff muscles to relax. The haunted look in Shepard’s eyes before the debrief was burned into his memory. 

Maybe Shepard regretted his decision. Kaidan certainly did.

The smallest groan left his lips as he stood, his calves still protesting the movement. There was too much to do before they docked at the Citadel. He needed to clean his armor, and himself. He had a report to write about the situation on Virmire. He had a marine detachment to talk to, Mako repairs to oversee, and somewhere in there, he should probably eat, but as he turned towards the exit, he paused.

The sight of Shepard standing in the open doorway was unexpected. The lights of the CIC illuminated him from behind, leaving his face in shadow, his body outlined in white. He was a silent spectre, eyes shrouded in darkness, a ghost haunting his own ship.

A chill ran down Kaidan’s spine, his mind once again wondering if this is what other people saw whenever they came across the Butcher of Torfan.

“I was just leaving.” Kaidan managed, running a hand through his curls, wincing when his fingers caught on the strands. 

“I-” Shepard hesitated, stepping into the dim room, eyes downcast. The glow from the overhead lights only put more shadows along his face, creases that weren’t there yesterday now visible along his brow. “No, you’re fine. I- need to check in with the Council. Let them know the mission is done.”

They’d almost failed… Would the Council even care that they’d lost a human to Saren’s madness? Was one life worth the information they’d gained? One life for total destruction of Wrex’s hope for the krogan. One life for an entire squad of STG soldiers. One life that meant nothing to the people who lived in the relative safety of the Citadel.

What was one life to them?

“I’ll give you some privacy.” 

Kaidan tried his best to stamp down the grief in his heart. He knew Shepard had to be feeling it even worse. It was his call in the end. Shepard would be the one to deal with the consequences, good or bad. Kaidan followed the orders he’d been given. 

He knew that the haunted look in Shepard’s blue eyes was reflected in his as well. 

Kaidan found himself standing in front of his Commander a few heartbeats later, his hand on Shepard’s shoulder, squeezing gently in what he hoped translated as comfort, as support. 

The other man glanced at him, eyes wide in uncertainty. 

“Commander-”

His grip tightened slightly, Shepard’s jaw tensing as he tried to pick his words with care.

Kaidan resisted the urge to pull Shepard into an embrace, to comfort away the pain, the fear, the regret that so clearly tortured him. He wanted to smooth the lines in his forehead, to wipe away the tears, to take the weight of a galaxy off of his shoulders. There weren't many things he could do in this situation, except be there to help when he inevitably took the fall. He wanted to catch Shepard when the galaxy tried to break him.

But he couldn’t .

Shepard was his commander, yes, but he was also his friend. And his feelings had nothing to do with the man himself. He wouldn’t further complicate what was between them.

“I know you don’t hear this often, but you did the right thing on Virmire, even if it doesn’t feel like it. That cloning facility needed to be destroyed.” 

Shepard’s strained smile was full of the sadness he’d never put words to. “Do you really believe that? After everything we’ve lost?”

Kaidan did, even if he regretted what happened, because the galaxy was worth preserving. There were people that needed protecting and they at least had a fighting chance to stop Saren now. But none of that mattered when Shepard met his gaze, the pain in his eyes stabbing Kaidan in the gut.

“I’ll be in the mess when you’re done, Shepard. I’m sure there’s something stronger than coffee lying around.” 

Even if no amount of alcohol could fix their problems, they could at least send Ashley off properly.

“You’re a good friend, Alenko. I’m glad you’re here.”

Neither of them said the obvious: Kaidan was there because someone else wasn’t .

Someone who probably deserved it more.

-2-

The hum of the drive core was comforting, the ripples of its mass effect fields washing over him and the blue glow a safety he craved in his most vulnerable moment. With a sigh, Kaidan relaxed against the farthest wall from the core, sliding to the floor, settling comfortably in the corner so anyone coming and going wouldn’t trip over him. Stretching his legs out in front of him, he closed his eyes. The dark energy tickled at the edge of his senses and his own biotics responded in kind, an intimate dance between them.

The silence in engineering was welcome, especially after the insanity on the Citadel. The Council had immediately dismissed Shepard’s claims about Reapers, placing the entirety of the blame on Saren and the Geth. Then the Alliance decided the best use of Shepard and his crew was to put them on lockdown. Captain Anderson, of all people, helped them steal the Normandy from the docking bay…

And now, they were on their way to Ilos to face Saren head on before he could get the conduit, whatever that was.

Kaidan wished it was all over with because he felt like he could sleep for the next few years. Or centuries.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there when boots scuffed against the floor.

He managed to open his eyes slightly as Shepard sat beside him, their shoulders brushing, a kind smile on his face when he glanced over at Kaidan. “Hiding?”

“Is it that obvious?” He responded, a laugh escaping despite the pounding in his head, and he forced his eyes closed again. The migraines usually gave a little more warning than this so he’d been a bit surprised at the intensity of it. With a pained groan, he leaned his head back against the bulkhead, pressing a finger into his temple. “I’ll be alright in a little bit. The silence down here helps.”

Kaidan didn’t have to see Shepard’s face to feel him tense. “Kaidan-”

Patting Shepard’s hand affectionately, he tried to ignore the way his heart jumped at the sound of his given name on Shepard’s tongue. “I’ll be fine, Shepard. I promise.”

The commander muttered something under his breath, something that probably wasn’t very nice, but he couldn’t make out the words. Silence descended between them: companionable, comforting, and altogether more satisfying than it’d been before.

The humming of the drive core was still a pleasant white noise in the background and the cold metal of the wall behind him soothed his sweaty skin, keeping the nausea at bay. He opened his eyes a crack, unable to stop from staring at the man next to him.

Shepard was bathed in blue-white light, shadows dancing playfully across his face. He appeared strong, severe and yet, Kaidan felt nothing but peace and safety in his presence. His azure eyes nearly glowed in the dark, his skin an ocean of blues and whites, dotted with the tiniest smattering of freckles and scars.

He’d admired Shepard from afar for the last six months: watching him defend those that couldn’t defend themselves, feeling pride at how Shepard attempted diplomacy and understanding before resorting to violence, being witness to how every loss etched itself into his commander’s very soul.

It wasn’t long before Shepard caught him watching. With a quirk of his lips, he leaned his own head back to meet Kaidan’s eyes. “See something you like, LT?”

He was tempted to respond with an affirmative, to admit that he dreamed of Shepard at night alone in his bunk, that he wanted to press kisses along that strong jaw, or to brush his hands down Shepard’s back as he pulled him closer…

Clearing his throat, Kaidan glanced at the room’s light source, closing his eyes as the brightness made his migraine pulse angrily. Moaning, he leaned forward, his head dropping into his hands.

Shepard’s hand gripped him by the shoulder, keeping him from falling forward. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “ Hey . What can I do?”

Kaidan’s hands shook as he pulled them from his face. He kept his eyes closed, trying to make sense of what was happening around him over the throbbing in his skull. “The lights. Too much.”

“Why aren’t you in the medbay?” 

“Liara. Ilos Prep. Didn’t want to interrupt.”

Shepard grunted before he shifted away, taking his warmth as he stood. Then he leaned down to put Kaidan’s arm around his shoulders, pulling him to his feet. It took a few seconds for Kaidan’s brain to catch up with the movement. He wobbled momentarily until Shepard steadied him… his free arm wrapping around Kaidan’s waist and securing him tightly against his own body.

“What’re you-”

“Shh.” Shepard moved forward, keeping Kaidan’s weight supported with each step. “I’m getting you out of here and somewhere better to sleep this off. I need you on Ilos.”

Kaidan wished Shepard needed him in other ways, and he would probably scold himself for such thoughts later, but it didn’t make the desire any less real.

“Where-” The question wouldn’t come out so he stopped speaking, his brain feeling like it was going to melt out of his ears.

“My cabin. It’s cold, dark, and far away from everyone.” Shepard lifted a finger when Kaidan made to argue as best as he could. “Do this as a favor to me.”

If Kaidan was feeling like himself at all, he would’ve protested, telling Shepard that he knew better than to believe that taking the Captain’s quarters wasn’t a breach of whatever fragile friendship they had left, and he wasn’t ready for what that meant. Not when the galaxy was falling down around them.

But his brain wouldn’t respond, no amount of prodding did anything except make his migraine worse, so he allowed Shepard to herd him in silence, ignoring the raised eyebrows and confused looks the crew sent them when they passed.

Shepard’s cabin was cool, the air circulator keeping it at a low yet comfortable temperature. The lights were already dimmed and Kaidan’s eyes (and head) were thankful for the reprieve. He collapsed on the soft blankets, burying his face in the scent of Alliance-issued soap. It wasn’t anything special, but it smelled like Shepard. 

Shepard pulled Kaidan’s boots off and dumped them to the side for later, not bothering to line them up like a good soldier would. Then he helped to get Kaidan in a comfortable position, head on a pillow, blankets piled on top of him in a cocoon. Once he was situated satisfactorily, Shepard sat beside him on the edge of the bed.

“Did you need anything else?”

Kaidan swore that Shepard’s touch brushed against his forehead, twirling a curl around his finger before it disappeared altogether.

“‘M good, thanks.”

Kaidan was nearly asleep when Shepard moved, leaving him on the bed alone. His eyes shut as he spied Shepard in the chair across the room, a sentinel watching over him while he slept.

-3-

Mayday! Mayday, this is the SSV Normandy!

The words echoed in his ears as Kaidan pushed his way through the chaos, dodging terrified crewmen and dangling cables, sparks exploding in dangerous arcs. The ship shuddered beneath his feet, nearly knocking him to the ground. He grabbed on to the closest object, the mess hall table, and thanked his lucky stars that the thing was bolted to the floor. Or what remained of it.

A quick glance confirmed what he already knew: the ship was barely holding together. Fires had broken out across the deck, the emergency fire system soaked the floors, adding even more danger to the crew's haste to escape. Gripping his helmet tightly, Kaidan forced it over his head, coughing against the thick black smoke as he waited for the seals to engage.

A hiss sounded as oxygen filled his helmet and he took a deep breath, attempting to orient himself in the chaos.

Taking a step away from the table, he noted a partially burned body to the right. The familiar buzzcut of Talitha Draven made his heart jump into his throat, grief burning in his chest as he continued on, needing to find Shepard. He tried to convince himself it was to get orders, but he was truly worried. Comms were spotty and he hadn’t heard from Shepard since the attack began.

Another few bodies caught his attention as he made his way to where the distress beacon waited to be launched, each new face making his heart heavier. He knew each and every one of these people and now… now they were gone and for what? Hunting geth that weren’t a threat anymore? Doing the Council’s dirty work while there were other things to prepare for?

Like the Reapers?

And the end of galactic civilization?

The Council was blind and sometimes, as much as he hated himself for it, he wondered if Shepard had made the right choice in saving them. Only time would truly tell if they would help end the Reaper threat or only made everyone else’s choices more difficult.

The familiar sight of John’s N7 armor filled his vision, stopping the dark turn of his thoughts immediately.

“Shepard.”

“Get everyone to the escape pods!” Shepard ordered, hitting the distress beacon with as much force as he could muster. The console sparked briefly but thankfully, didn’t break. 

“Joker won’t leave the cockpit.” He shouted, hoping that Shepard heard over the blaring klaxons. He couldn’t see John’s expression with the helmet on but his blue eyes would haunt him. “I’m not leaving either.”

I’m not leaving you .

Shepard shook his head, almost as if he could hear Kaidan’s thoughts. “Kaidan-”

Gripping Shepard’s helmet, Kaidan pressed the front of his visor against it, an intimate gesture that neither were expecting. Kaidan’s heart pounded hard against his ribs, Shepard’s sudden proximity a desire he’d craved for months, but not like this.

Never like this.

Shepard closed what little distance was between them, hand on Kaidan’s neck, securing him solidly against him. The alarms screamed, fires burned only feet away, but the solid feel of John in his arms almost broke him. He’d wanted this for too long, but now, they didn’t have time. 

“Don’t make me go.”

Shepard sucked in a sharp breath and for a second, Kaidan could’ve sworn he shook. “You have to, Kaidan.” He pushed him away, not roughly but enough to put distance between them. “I’ll get Joker. The others are counting on you. Please .”

Kaidan closed his eyes, filling his lungs slowly with oxygen, trying to force his feet to move, to fulfill his orders. When he finally looked at Shepard once more, he knew he didn’t have a choice. He had a job to do and god dammit he would do it. 

I love you.

It was on his tongue and nearly slipped out, but his feelings were inconsequential as their ship burned around them, the dead staring at them with empty eyes. Talitha couldn’t be saved, but there were others that could.

Swallowing the fear that this would be the last time he saw John Shepard, Kaidan nodded. “Aye aye.”

When he turned his back on the man who had become his world in a few short months, running for the escape pods, there was a dark whisper at the back of his mind that told him it was a mistake. One he would regret for the rest of his life.

-4-

His fingers hovered over the datapad, the words not coming the way he’d intended.

It’d been a shock to see Shepard alive on Horizon, even with Anderson’s warning: There are rumors that Shepard is alive, Commander. Be ready for anything.

But the warnings, the hearsay, the hints about Shepard’s survival over Alchera had prepared him little for what he saw that day: the familiar ocean blue of John’s eyes, the all encompassing relief on the man’s face when Kaidan approached unharmed, the gentle brush of his hand against Kaidan’s shoulder before they embraced. His heart had soared with happiness to see the man he’d followed to hell and back standing in front of him, flesh and blood and very much alive . 

But the moment passed quickly, only to be replaced by more questions than answers.

How was he alive? Was it true that he was with Cerberus now? What had really happened over Alchera? And why was he here now ?

What was Cerberus’ interest in the colony abductions?

Were they involved? Was Shepard involved?

It didn’t matter what the answers were, not when they could be lies. How was he supposed to believe anything a dead man said?

While his head spun with questions, Kaidan’s gaze had taken in the changes in the man he’d once pledged his service to. Shepard’s skin was cracked in places and crimson cybernetics held his flesh together, red lines glowing bright like a beacon over his cheeks and jaw. But there was a darkness in his gaze that Kaidan had seen only a few times before and it scared him.

John Shepard wasn’t the same person who’d died over Alchera.

Now that he could look back on the interaction with fresh eyes, Kaidan admitted he was unnecessarily harsh in his reaction after. There was little he regretted in life, and the things he did regret he could count on one hand. His anger at Shepard on Horizon was one of them. If his former commander really didn’t have a choice from the beginning, then he should apologize. 

The blinking cursor mocked him. Twenty minutes since opening the messaging app and he had yet to write a single word. 

With a sigh, he ran a hand down his face. There was nothing he could say to make up for the years Shepard had lost and more than just John’s life had been destroyed over Alchera. His career, his scars, his friendships… The work he’d done as a Spectre swept under the rug by the Council and Alliance both, many now believing Shepard to be a raving lunatic. 

And this situation with Cerberus…

Another sigh slipped out.

Kaidan wished he could pour his heart out, to let Shepard know how deep the pain of losing him had been. To the crew, to him . The last images burned into his brain played on repeat in front of his mind’s eye: the Normandy’s destruction, and Shepard’s lifeless body drifting over the planet in the cold vacuum of space. No one had been willing to retrieve the man that had saved them from the Geth and Saren, of the hero who had haunted visions of things passed and things yet to come. On that day, Kaidan Alenko’s heart tore in two.

His fingers typed the message before he realized what he’d done.

The words stared back at him, his subconscious willing to destroy everything he’d built over the last two years, all for a man who was supposed to be dead.

John,

These past two years have been more than difficult for me. Seeing you on Horizon brought back old feelings I thought I’d put to rest, but it seems that forgetting you is impossible. I can’t join Cerberus, I won’t, and it has nothing to do with you. Because if I’m being honest, I was tempted to throw it all away to be with you on the Normandy again.

But the Normandy is gone. 

I’m not the same person anymore. I sense you aren’t, as well.

The love I have for you isn’t enough for me to give up on everything I believe.

Kaidan swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat. Even if he wasn’t sending a personal message that both the Alliance and Cerberus officials wouldn’t be reading, he couldn’t admit his feelings in that way. They both deserved better than that, even if they’d never get it.

Each day a life with John Shepard seemed further out of reach.

Especially with Shepard in enemy hands.

He read the message once more before hitting ‘delete.’

-5-

The shuttle landed at the pad a few feet away, dust blowing up into Kaidan’s face as he waited. Lifting his hand to shield himself from the worst of the air, he watched as the door slid open, revealing Admiral David Anderson. He wore his dress blues, medals shining in the bright sunlight. Grey was starting to show in his close cropped dark hair, but he still flaunted that dazzling smile that made him appear years younger.

“Major.” Anderson greeted, reaching out to shake his offered hand. “It’s good to see you. Here to escort us to the inquest?”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, eyes involuntarily straying to where Shepard was stepping from the shuttle. He looked better than Kaidan had seen him in years. This Shepard wasn’t the ghost he’d met on Horizon anymore, half-mended flesh barely held together with cybernetics. His scars had healed, concealing the eerie glow of the implants underneath it, and he’d even put some muscle back on his once thin, almost frail frame.. If Kaidan ignored their purpose for being here in Vancouver, he could almost pretend they were back on the SR-1.

“Major, huh?” Shepard smiled, raising an eyebrow expectantly, almost as if he was waiting for Kaidan to detail the mission that got him the promotion. Like he hoped Kaidan would treat it like old times.

But it wasn’t.

“It’s recent.” He said instead, nodding as Anderson excused himself briefly. Kaidan’s hands were clenched at his sides as he tried to reign in the sudden longing in his heart. He missed those smiles more than he wanted to admit. “I, uh, would rather not talk about it right now.”

“That’s fair. It’s not like I’ve done anything recently to give you reason to trust me.” If Shepard’s words brought him any hurt at all, his voice didn’t betray it. When Kaidan glanced at him again, Shepard was watching Lieutenant James Vega as he stood at parade rest beside Anderson, trying his best not to fall asleep at the conversation the Admiral was having with the lawyers assigned to him.

Kaidan stared at him in silence, memorizing the new scars above his brow, the freckles that dusted his nose, the smooth skin on his cheeks and jaw. John’s hair had grown considerably since Horizon, nearly brushing his shoulders, dusty brown locks that looked as soft as satin.

Kaidan resisted the urge to reach and brush his fingers through it.

This man had done awful things, was on trial for many of those crimes, but stood resolute, fearless. He always had. It was one of the things that Kaidan always admired about him. Shepard was the Butcher of Torfan, but he was also human… he made mistakes like everyone else. What made him different, even special , was that he wasn’t afraid of owning up to them. 

Is that what this was? A misunderstanding? A mistake?

Somehow, Kaidan didn’t think so.

“Did you do it?” He asked, voice quiet and yet, Shepard heard him as clearly as if they were standing in an empty room. 

Shepard’s jaw tensed and he glanced away briefly, blue eyes fixed on something far away that Kaidan couldn’t see. Lieutenant Vega had noticed the movement and looked at them with curiosity. It felt like forever before John shook his head, unfocused gaze landing back on Kaidan.

His fears must’ve shown on his expression because John’s eyes darkened. “Don’t look at me like that, Kaidan. Not you, of all people.”

“I’m sorry, Shepard.” And he was sorry. This wasn’t at all how he wanted to see his former friend again. Not after Horizon. The circumstances never seemed to favor them. “But you have to know what it looks like.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The Butcher of Torfan getting more revenge against batarians?” He laughed, but there was no amusement in it. “Yeah, I get how it looks.”

“Not to mention, you were flying Cerberus colors.” 

Shepard flinched, the reminder an obvious low blow. “I was under Hackett’s orders.”

“Not officially and that’s all they care about.” Kaidan sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “What happened out there, Shepard?”

“You’ve seen the report, what do you think?” 

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” Kaidan replied, opening his eyes to see the flash of pain on Shepard’s face before he hid it behind his usual stoic mask.

“It does to me.” 

The words were so quiet that Kaidan almost missed them.

“If you’re right about the Reapers, then you didn’t have a choice.” Kaidan said after a moment of silence, hating how strained his voice sounded at the admission. It’s not that he didn’t believe Shepard. He did and that was part of the problem. Because he knew exactly what happened when someone has no other option in a fight that was bigger than themselves.

“It doesn’t make it easier to bear though.”

The regret was nearly palpable in John’s words.

“No, it doesn’t.”

Silence fell between them again, heavier with a truth only a few people knew. Even if they thwarted the Reapers, even if they stopped the whole harvesting of organic civilizations, the loss would still be catastrophic. Winning wouldn’t feel like a victory at all.

“Kaidan, before I leave, there’s something I need to tell you. Just in case…” Shepard trailed off, but the meaning was obvious.

Just in case we don’t see each other again.

Kaidan’s heart broke at the look in his friend’s eyes. They’d once been close, telling each other things that they couldn’t tell anyone else, being there at each other’s six, knowing the other’s tells and expressions, but this gulf between them had only grown since Alchera, since Horizon. Kaidan didn’t want it to grow anymore. Not when the things he felt were still so real. “Shepard-”

“Commander.” Vega appeared at John’s shoulder, a hulking mass of muscle that would’ve been easy to spot any other day, but now surprised them with his sudden presence. “We have to meet with the Admirals now.”

John closed his eyes with annoyance, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he spoke. As always, there was never time. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Sir, Admiral Anderson-”

Shepard stiffened, but before he could snap out a reply, Kaidan cleared his throat, grabbing the attention of both men beside him. With a small smile, he tried his best not to look put out by the inquest, by the politics, and he was sure he failed by the slant of John’s eyes. 

“You should probably go, Shepard.”

He caught the hurt that John tried to hide behind his tense smile. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll see you around, Kaidan.”

As Shepard turned his back on him, Kaidan couldn’t help feeling the deja vu in the worst way.

-6-

“Is that what they did to you?”

Blue eyes flashed coldly and for a moment, Kaidan had a terrible thought that maybe Shepard was a threat much like the mangled creature lying on the ground a few feet away. Was Shepard another husk waiting to be unleashed by the Illusive Man? Could Kaidan trust him? And could he trust himself to do what was necessary if Shepard was a threat?

“How could you compare me to him ?” Shepard snapped, the bite of his voice familiar and foreign all at once. Like so much in their lives now.

He glanced away and realized too late, he probably shouldn’t have. If Shepard was a Cerberus weapon, he needed to watch his back. Unfortunately, the man who usually did that was the one he needed protection from . “Shepard, I don’t know what you are… or who. Not since Cerberus.”

A slight headache appeared as his brain forced the memory away, refusing to acknowledge the fear and doubt he’d held. Because it was his distrust of Shepard that had put them both in danger. 

“Is the person I followed to hell and back- the person I…” He managed to stop before he let the word slip: love. He was in love with John Shepard, but this was not the time for a confession. “Are you still in there somewhere?”

“They didn’t change me, Kaidan. But words won’t convince you, will they?”

No, words hadn’t convinced him. But Shepard’s actions, on the other hand, had spoken volumes. They always had, back when they were a lot younger and a lot less jaded about the future, when they were merely friends who hadn’t yet grieved for thousands of soldiers who’d died with a single choice. 

But they were both different now. Changed in drastic ways as the Reaper war dragged on. Because that was how war went, wasn’t it? It tore at every shred of your heart and your sanity until you’re left with nothing but the memories of people you once loved. Memories of who yourself had been at one time or another.

It took longer than he expected to open his eyes. Brain damage, skull fracture, some other things that seemed horrifying and probably should’ve killed him. Instead, he was lying in a hospital bed on the Citadel, receiving the best care that was possible in the middle of a galactic war, all because his closest ally was a Spectre. 

The overhead lights normally would’ve blinded him upon opening his eyes, but he was surprised to find them shut off, nothing by the artificial daylight of the Presidium streaming in through large open windows. Kaidan blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from his vision. A few minutes passed with nothing but the sound of his heart in his ears as his headache began to slowly subside. A C-Sec shuttle flew past the window, descending to the closest shuttle pad. Different species of birds flew through the air before settling on the branches of a small tree. A well dressed couple was walking the Presidium hand in hand, admiring the flowers that had been recently tended.

The Citadel was almost serene in its unrushed pace. He felt like an interloper in the peace, a soldier that lived and breathed war. He shouldn’t be here, he should be on the front lines. Or, if the morose part of his mind was right, even dead by this point. But he wasn’t . And he knew why.

John Shepard.

Shepard always put himself in harm’s way to make sure his people came home, and when they didn’t, he took it personally, even if it wasn’t his fault. Because most of the time, it wasn’t. 

Kaidan glanced to his right where he knew he’d find the man in question, sitting bedside on a clearly uncomfortable chair, hunched over the hospital bed with his head resting on folded arms. He was sleeping, breathing deeply with the quietest of noises leaving his mouth. With his gaze mapping Shepard’s face, Kaidan noted the dark circles under his eyes, the weariness that seemed to haunt his pale skin even when sleeping. Some of his skin was showing wear, the cybernetics glowing crimson between small cracks in his cheeks.

Whatever had happened since the incident on Mars was wearing on Shepard’s health and Kaidan felt a pang of regret. Some of it was his fault, the words he’d spoken to Shepard on Mars were harsh and for that, Kaidan should apologize. If he couldn’t rely on the people he loved and trusted, he couldn’t rely on anyone.

Before he could stop himself, Kaidan reached out, running his fingers through those thick brunette locks like he’d been craving for years. Soft to the touch, it slid through his fingers with little resistance, landing on the white sheets with nary a sound. He twirled a stray lock of hair around his index finger, smiling when Shepard stirred at the touch.

Opening his eyes, Shepard blinked as if he was unsure of where he was. Once he got his bearings, he lifted his head and glanced around, stretching to ward off the embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable position. 

“Hey, Shepard.” Kaidan said, unable to keep from smirking, noting the flushed cheeks and nervous movement of Shepard’s hand over his face.

“Kaidan. It’s, uh, good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” His eyes dropped to where the blanket had slid down, exposing Kaidan’s chest. 

He might’ve felt embarrassed if he didn’t enjoy the look in Shepard’s blue gaze, eyes roaming the expanse of skin and curly chest hair appreciatively. “Better. You didn’t have to wait here for me to wake up. I would’ve sent you a message.”

“Are you sure that’s true?” He glanced up, a worried frown pulling at his mouth. “You weren’t happy with me on Mars.”

Kaidan looked away this time, his hands seeming more interesting than the man beside him. “I was… wrong about you. I’m sorry.”

“Kaidan-”

“I need to get this out, John. Please .” When Shepard fell silent, Kaidan took a deep breath, closing his eyes and releasing it through his nose. It was comforting to feel Shepard next to him, to know that he’d watched over him whenever he was on the Citadel, for however long Kaidan had been sedated. “We were both wrong about a lot over the years, but… this is all on me. I didn’t trust you when I should have.”

“I haven’t made myself very trustworthy.”

Kaidan snapped his eyes open, a glare directed at the man he couldn’t deny any longer. With everything he’d been through: the Alliance using his dark past to their advantage, the Council using him as a tool to further their power, the prothean beacon’s visions nearly tearing him apart, the threat of the Reapers and Geth… and then to top it all off, his death and Cerberus resurrection. The months of being forced to work with his enemies while his allies said terrible things about him, Kaidan included. Bahak and finally being proven right about the Reapers while everything the galaxy had built was being destroyed.

Kaidan didn’t know how Shepard was holding himself together.

“That’s ridiculous.”

The smallest grin appeared on Shepard’s face. “Hey-”

Kaidan wanted to reach out and shake some sense into Shepard, but he was partially to blame for that. He made Shepard doubt himself and he never wanted to see that again.

“I’ve known you for a long time, Shepard, and you’re being too hard on yourself. I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you after Horizon. Or Bahak. Or the millions of other times I should’ve been.” He paused, tongue going numb as he pushed his final thought into words. “You’ve always been strong for everyone else. Let me be strong for you.”

His smile widened. “From a hospital bed?”

Kaidan nudged Shepard's shoulder with his hand. “Ok, jackass, very funny.”

Shepard caught his hand before he could pull away, gently holding it against his chest, eyes sparkling with laughter. Kaidan missed seeing him so lighthearted, so at peace. If he could bring a little hope in the face of so much darkness, he’d accept that responsibility wholeheartedly. Entwining their fingers together, Kaidan gave a little squeeze.

“I’m here, John. I wasn’t before and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life. But-” He held up his free hand when it looked like Shepard would interrupt. He relaxed, watching Kaidan with wonder. “I’m not going anywhere. If you’ll have me, of course.”

Shepard was quiet, holding Kaidan’s hand as if letting go would be the end of the galaxy. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Kaidan smirked, leaning closer and brushing his free hand through John’s hair before hooking a finger beneath his chin. Tilting his face so their eyes met, Kaidan let his hand drop to the bed. “What do you want? You’ve given everything for the Alliance, for this war. What is the one thing that Commander John Shepard wants?”

There was no hesitation in his next words. “ You .”

John moved faster than Kaidan expected, pulling him closer so their lips met sooner, their desire crashing like waves, relentless. Years and even death hadn’t quelled his feelings for the man in front of him, and it seemed the same could be said of Shepard.

“I love you.” Kaidan whispered against his mouth, enjoying the feel of John pressed against him. The muscles in his neck twinged slightly, but he ignored it in favor of kissing Shepard again, letting every feeling of love and hope and adoration he felt echo in his touches.

There was still a war to fight, and Kaidan likely had to wait to be officially discharged, but for now, they had each other and he wasn’t going to let what they had go without a fight. He’d wasted enough time. 

John broke the kiss, gasping slightly for air, and Kaidan laughed, the sound breathless and happy for the first time in so long. He sent Kaidan a bemused look, but chuckled quietly. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ll have you know…” Kaidan trailed off, his head so full of the reality that he’d just kissed Shepard that this fight didn’t seem to matter as much as it might’ve once upon a time. With his fingers tangled in Shepard’s hair, he brushed his lips against his jaw. “Actually, that’s fair. Considering how long it took to get here -”

“I love you.” Shepard interrupted, trailing a finger along his cheek, cupping Kaidan’s face in his hand a moment later. “I have for a long time, Kaidan. If I’d known-”

Kaidan leaned forward, their foreheads touching in the silence that followed. Regret. It was something both of them had, about so many things, but he wasn’t going to regret this . Because even if one of them had confessed at any time in their past, it wouldn’t have been right.

This was the moment they’d waited for.

“As much as I want to say it would, I can’t pretend that it would’ve made a difference. Changing anything about our past could’ve changed the future and not for the good. I love you, John Shepard, and I’m going to fight for us. No matter what happens.”

John nodded, but said nothing. There was nothing that could be said. They might not have everything, but they had each other.

It was enough.

[souper-null]

I generally don't get a lot of notes anyway so let's just... post a little bit of my writing and see how it does.

Feel free to offer any comments or suggestions. Some questions too maybe.

I probably won't continue this but hey, let's at least let the world see it before we dump it I guess?

Also give constructive criticism and not jus straight up bashing my writing. I haven't interacted with that many people on here but most of the other social media platforms I've been on are generally pretty toxic and unwelcoming so I wanted to add that little note

But one last thing, if you see this and you like it and you want to follow me for it, I don't post too often on here so any writing updates or just posts in general are few and far between.

Now let's... get to it?

This can’t be how my life ends. No, I can’t let my life end like this. Come on, ███████, keep going. Damn you, ███████, come on. I clench my fists and freeze. The tendrils of fog tickle my flesh. The feeling of several eyes watching from behind. I can feel them grabbing my legs. That horrible sound of flesh being torn and bones being crushed echoes throughout the salt-soaked wastes. My face down in the mud but the adrenaline courses through my veins. I can’t fight back. There’s no point in fighting back. But I cling to life desperately, begging for mercy. Crawling on the ground as the wet muck clings to my clothes. My surroundings are barren, excluding the remains of what was once my companion. His back was reduced to long, gleaming strands of torn muscle. The awful smell of rotting flesh fills my nostrils. I groan as I pull myself back up with only my arms left to support me. Come on, ███████, come on. Maybe at least you can make it out alive. I reach out to grab what I thought was a stick, only to  Slowly I can feel the waters rise. First up to my ankles, but it doesn’t take long before I’m floating in the cold, bloody red waters. My entire body is numb, but the feeling is oddly soothing, comforting, and welcoming even. My head bobbing on the surface of the water before my vision goes black.

Wake up. Just wake up already, will you?

You’ve kept us waiting for so long, little man.

…Maybe it’s best we leave the boy alone. I take a heavy, reflexive breath as fresh, salty air pours into my lungs. The air comes in and goes out twice as fast in labored, ragged gasps. All the feeling floods back. The feeling of cold water surrounds me. As I take another, more steady breath in through my nostrils and a wild variety of different aromas stings my senses. Something stingy and putrid, refreshing and soothing, with a tad bit of something that smells like the sea. But as I take another breath in and the sickening yet familiar stench of death lingers the longest. It’s as if Death himself is lurking in the corner of the room. Watching, waiting.

“He’s awoken.”