#i like sea metaphors can you tell

[ltsmoving]

I'm a bit of a basic bitch for this but like damn I wanna grab someone by the jaw and just force them against my abdomen, making damn sure they hear all of that raucous growling begging for them.

Just getting flooded with not only that yawning thunder, bellowing deep from within the cavernous hollow of an organ, but the angry oceanic rippling only a sound so violent could cause. They don't know when the last time I ate something was, but it might as well be weeks ago from how vigorously the chamber vibrates and wails, pleading for them.

Because it is calling for them, like a siren might some poor, lost sailor- fate inevitable, but still fighting. I know it; they know it. There's a caustic ocean awaiting their arrival just below the skin- its waves crash and moan in the cove, waiting to liquefy them, to become inseparable from the sea foam.

idk get in my mouth or something

[spideyladman]

Thinking about the disturbing implications of Cain's story and destiny from the Bible rn

[airprime7]

i want to throw up

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 7

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6]

“I’m having a child.”

Danny stared at Batman.

“…Uh, congrats?”

Batman whips out a stack of paper and a pen. “It’s you. Sign here and initial the highlighted spots.”

Danny instinctively, from years of dealing with Vlad, whacked the stack right out of Batman’s hands and into the bay. He doesn’t even feel bad about littering this time because, “Begone, fruitloop!”

Wait, no, that’s not what he meant.

“I mean- I have parents!”

“Not for long.” Batman muttered and then did a double take. “You have parents? How?”

Danny gasped, placing a hand on his chest to clutch his metaphorical pearls. He ignored Batman’s mutters. Everyone knows the vigilante has an adoption problem. At least, everyone who lived in Gotham did, as everyone who didn’t was somehow convinced that he “worked alone” or some bullshit like that. “Are you naturally this insensitive or were you dropped on your head as a baby? Obviously I had to come from somewhere.”

“They’re still… alive?”

“And kicking,” Danny said, inching away from yet another rich weird guy trying to adopt him. “Mostly the kicking part, though.” He said, remembering the sparring sessions. His mom could kick his as six ways to Sunday with nothing but jiu-jitsu and still have time to work in the lab.

“I see.”

“I’m charging you extra for the emotional upheaval. I have trauma regarding rich people trying to adopt me.”

Batman sullenly handed over a thousand.

“Sweet. There’s a group of shades down here asking if you could find their murderer. Apparently the serial killer is still at large.” Danny pointed.

“Of course. Tell me everything.”

The adoption papers disappeared as Batman went into detective mode.

Danny shoved the cash into his glowing chest and breathed a sigh of relief. He needed to make rent this month so it was a windfall running into Batman.

——

“Hey, Tim?”

Tim woke up from his Power Nap. “Huh?”

“Phantom’s complaining that Batman kept trying to adopt him.”

Tim blinked. “Uh.. what does that have to do with me?”

Danny stared at him, a patiently amused smile on his face. “Just in case the rumor about the Wayne’s sugar-daddy-into the Bats was a thing. Other than that, we might have to confront Batman to get him off of Phantom’s back. ”

“You… want to confront Batman.”

“Hey, man, Phantom’s a friend and it’s ride or die.” Danny snickered. It was literally die, with his Phantom side of things. He held two fists up, and wound them, like Popeye right after eating spinach or something. “And if Batman bothers Phantom, we ride at dawn.”

“Batman doesn’t come out unless it’s dark, though? Or for the Justice League.” Tim grinned. He mentally classified Danny under his “to go to” list. That’s where Bart, Bernard, Cassie, Kon, and Garfield were. If he starts shit, he could count on them to have his back and cause even more shit. Danny, wanting to fistfight Bruce over the man making Phantom uncomfortable? He absolutely is making that list.

“Then we ride at, like, dusk. Or uh, like 10PM. I gotta get my beauty sleep.”

“You’ll definitely need it,” Tim inconspicuously texted the group chat, which quickly blew up.

“Shut up,” Danny playfully shoved Tim. “Wait, can Batman even legally adopt? Isn’t being a vigilante illegal? And how can he adopt someone dead?”

Tim dramatically flailed and splayed over Danny’s carpeted living room. “Dunno about his identity,” he lied to Danny, like a liar. “But Gotham has a bunch of laws for the undead/restored to life people so there’s probably enough gray space there.”

Danny spluttered. “You guys have undead friendly laws?”

“Yeah, geht do you think Grundy just chills out? Plus, we have like a minor resurrection event every few years. It usually doesn’t stick but sometimes it does. Bruce pushed for those laws when Jason came back to life, except he doesn’t actually want people to know he’s like, alive.”

“Jason died?” Danny blinked. Well, that would explain the vibes. “Huh. So what’s up with his rank vibes then?”

“Rank vibes?” Tim pressed record on his phone.

Danny nodded. “Yeah, you know how Phantom’s got like a really chill green vibe?” Inwardly, Danny snickered at his pun. Chill. Yeah, he meant that very literally. “Jason’s got kind of a rank green vibe. He’s kind of stinky? Definitely never introduce him to Phantom.” Danny’s senses got worse in his ghost form.

“Jason regularly showers, though?!”

“Not smell! Like, a spiritual smell?”

“You can smell souls?!” Tim sat up. “Bro, you’re a meta?!”

“Uh.” Danny hesitated. “Yeah. I can smell souls. It’s a thing. Everyone from my town can do it.”

“What?!” Tim paused. “Wait, can Phantom smell souls?”

“Yeah. We’re, uh, from the same town.”

“Danny, what the fuck?”

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, you’re the one with a soul-sick brother! Not to mention, you’re kinda stinky too!”

“Hey!”

“Soul-stinky nerd man!”

——

“I stink?!” Jason spluttered out, extremely offended.

“The Lazarus pits. He’s most likely smelling traces of Lazarus pit on you, you imbecile.”

“We need to speak to Phantom. This instant.”

“I dunno, B. Danny sounded like he was gonna break your face if you bothered Phantom anymore.” Dick snickered.

“Yeah,” Tim chimed in, from his seat in front of the Bat-computer. “He was pretty serious.”

“Are we just gonna glaze over the fact that they’re from the same town?!” Stephanie exclaimed, practicing her moves on a training dummy.

“How does that even work? What does that mean? I thought Phantom was an immortal?” Duke asked.

“We also can’t rule out time-travel.” Barbara slammed her baton into a training dummy, twisting her wheelchair in an agile maneuver that left the dummy on the floor.

“No bothering Phantom.” Cass proclaimed.

“That’s quite right. You all have a warm dinner sitting above your cave and should it remain uneaten, I assure you that sherbet Sunday and crêpe Tuesday shall be canceled.” Alfred stepped in. The Bats, threatened, scrambled to ditch their gear and go upstairs.

[puzzled-pegasus]

Here's some silly little metaphors that I think the dragon tribes would use

SkyWings

“Don’t count your clutch before they hatch.” (Don't plan too much too soon)

“Gold is better than silver, but silver is better than nothing.” (If you can't do it perfectly, still try your best. Most dragons forget the second part.)

“‘Sorry’ can't suck the fire back in.” (The damage is done and now you're dead to me.)

“You been eating too much burnt meat or something?” (Are you nuts?)

“Stop all this smoke and use your fire.” (Stop rambling and get to the point already; or stop complaining and do something)

“Doesn't know his tail from his wings.” (Stupid or clumsy)

“You fly like a depressed pigeon.” (Slow flier)

“There's no fire in a rainstorm.” (Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get to work.)

“Nighttime is for the NightWings.” (What are you doing up? Go to sleep.)

SandWings

“She’s all rattle, and no strike.” (Like all bark no bite)

“A diamond in a pile of quartz.” (Like a needle in a haystack)

“You’re watering the cactus and ignoring the sapling.” (You’re focusing on the wrong thing; barking up the wrong tree)

“Everyone thinks the camel looks silly until the dry season comes.” (Don't listen to them, they don't know how unique and strong you are)

MudWings

“Crocodile tears.” (Fake crying in order to gain sympathy)

“You can only catch a trout if your mouth is open.” (Be open to new experiences)

“If the tree gives away too much, it ends up as a stump.” (Don't let people take advantage of your generosity)

SeaWings

“Happy as a clam in high water.” (Very happy)

“The flying fish feels like a fool when it sees an osprey.” (Don't compare yourself to others, run your own race.)

“Plenty of fish in the sea.” (Plenty more opportunities to come.)

“You’ve got ink in your eyes.” (You're blind to something important)

“Lobsters only die when they don't leave their shell.” (Keep yourself busy with new experiences and you'll life a long life)

NightWings

“Sleep is for the dead.” (Why waste your time sleeping when you could be productive)

“SeaWings know their fish and SandWings know their cactuses, but we NightWings know everything else.”(NightWing supremacy propaganda)

“Being nice to a deer never got one in my mouth.” (Other dragons don't matter, only your goals.)

“A prophecy always comes true.” (I told you so but more cryptic)

"You're counting the stars." (You're doing something tedious towards an unachievable goal)

RainWings

“Gray’s her favorite color.” (She's a huge bummer)

“A lemon is yellow on the outside, doesn't mean they're not sour.” (Referring to someone who is two faced or fake)

“I love honey, but I’d rather not get stung by the bees.” (I could do this, but it requires effort so I don't wanna)

“Nobody likes a rotten banana.” (Nobody likes a bummer/downer)

“Don't tie your tail in a knot” (don't get all upset)

“I have all my berries in a basket” (I have everything sorted out)

“You couldn't sneak up on a pineapple” (insult to one's camouflage skills, popular among children)

IceWings

“The seal who asks why the orca is chasing him is the first to get eaten.” (A favorite of parents telling their kids to shut up)

“Not the sharpest icicle on the roof” (kinda stupid or slow)

“Clear as polished ice” (i understand or see it very well)

“You're looking a little pink in the face” (you look sickly. IceWings can turn pink from eating too much krill; a symptom of malnutrition. This line can be applied to any illness.)

“Blue blood kills, red blood spills.” (Patriotic propaganda implying that IceWings win every fight

“The SkyWings toss their blue eyed hatchlings because they're worried they'll be as strong as an IceWing.” (More propaganda)

HiveWings

“Pretty is for the SilkWings.” (Vanity is stupid and impractical)

“If it buzzes like a bug and bites like a bug, it's a bug.” (Don't ignore the obvious)

“Clearsight works in mysterious ways.” (I don't know the answer to your question, now go away)

SilkWings

“It's not always good to know how the honey gets made.” (Don't stick your snout where it doesn't belong)

“She's got a couple of threads loose.” (Calling someone a little crazy, threads refers to weaving)

“The bee minds its flowers and the spider minds her silk, it's when they mix that bad things happen.” (Mind ya business)

LeafWings

“Flytraps only trap because the soil doesn't feed them.” (Dragons don't get angry out of nowhere)

“Looking like a leaf only hides you in the forest.” (Time and place)

“If a branch doesn't bend, it breaks.” (Be flexible)

“Even the corpse flower attracts the flies.” (Even someone who seems ugly to one dragon they can seem irresistible to another)

[mochinomnoms]

La luna enamorada with prompt 4 please? Romantic Nsfw with azul

azul ashengrotto x gn!reader [tags] — nsfw, romantic, underwater sex, octomer!Azul [wc} - 852 prompt 4 “You made a few sounds I've never heard before.” song: la luna enamorada (Kali Uchis, “Sin Miedo (del Amor y Otros Demonios)”) note - kinda sequel to the last azul request? I couldn't resist the reference, with this one being about the moon and the last about the sun francesca (1k event)

“Vive la luna enamorada (wadalupa, wadalupa) / Y al contemplarla en su mirada (wa-la-la-la-la-la-la) / Me hace soñar”*

“Mmh! Azul, that feels so—oh gooood~” You let out a high-pitched squeal as Azul’s many arms curled and groped around your body, one in particular squeezing on your abdomen as he worked his spade-shaped tentacle in you. It pressed down as he pressed up against the sensitive spot inside you, forcing an extra burst of pleasure to course through your veins. 

You opened your eyes, still crying out, to gaze at Azul and reach out to him for a kiss. If it wasn’t for the glowing blue of his eyes, you’d be unable to see anything.

Azul had the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. You told him once that his name in your language from home meant blue, and asked if it was intentional to name after one of his many, pretty features. 

He turned a light purple as he blushed, rolling his (pretty) eyes at your comment as he mentioned that names based on colors were common in the sea.

They reminded you of an aquamarine, and they glowed too! Whenever you two would make a trip to visit Azul’s mom, in a deep part of the Coral Sea, his eyes would shine in the dark like the moon at night. 

He often called you his sunlight. You’d often tell him that if you were the sun, then he was your moon. And you loved your moon and his pretty blue gaze.

The glow of his eyes, the glow of the stripes and freckles on his body, he was your pretty moon under the sea. You relied on him, both metaphorically and figuratively. After all, it was rare to see a human so far out in the deep sea, a quick, and easy snack for anyone to take. It’s a good thing that you had him to be your moonlight, seeing as you were in a very vulnerable position. 

“Aaaaaah~ Azul! Too much, too much!” You squealed, digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders as he continued to fuck you well past your limit. Azul, on the other hand, was looking at you with those glowing eyes, filled with desire and greed. 

“Mm, it’s alright Angelfish, you can take it, can’t you?” He cooed, his hands caressing your cheeks as he wiped away the tears falling from your eyes. 

“I love—gasp—the way you squeeze around me. Do you enjoy it too?” Azul breathlessly chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your neck into his shoulder to muffle your cries. 

“Hah, I felt that, you do, don’t you? You like me ruining you, don’t you?” 

You nodded rapidly, wrapping your arms and legs to Azul to clutch onto him for dear life as his tentacle moved faster, focusing on your sweet spot as it pistoned in and out. Azul watched in awe as you threw your head back and wailed, chanting out his name amongst your moans and cries. 

He watched as you shook again for the nth time, cooing as you slumped into his many arms from exhaustion. Azul peppered kisses against your neck, pausing over the pulse point on your neck. From his lips, he could feel the rapid beating of your heart as he suckled. You flinched as the tentacle in you slowly slid out, the rest of his arms curling around your body to hold you. 

Finally feeling him pull away from you, you opened your eyes to lovingly watch as he licked his lips, eyes drawing up and down your body to admire the marks he’d made. His eyes met yours, an aquamarine glow beholding you. 

He really was your pretty moon. 

“Aha, what?” Azul tilted his head, raising a brow and smiling as he cradled you closer. Azul slowly floated down to rest against the stonewall of the sea cave, letting you rest into him in a fetal position. “I’m your moon, hm?” 

Realizing that you’d spoken out loud, you hid your blushing face into his neck, smiling against his smooth skin. The freckles on his body were glowing a soft purple, brightening as you pressed a chaste, sweet kiss to his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” You held his left hand, fiddling with the silver wedding band on his finger. “My moon, mine mine mine…”

Azul let out a musical chuckle, bringing said hand up to kiss it. “You say the strangest things sometimes, my dear. Though…”

He rubbed his nose against your own, a teasing smirk on his lips. 

“You also made a few sounds I’ve never heard before~” You clicked your tongue as he continued purring teasing remarks into your ear. “And the way you said my name? How delightful, I could hear you moan my name like that for ages~”

The two of you shared a laugh as you bashfully hid into his neck again, basking in each other’s presence before you inevitably would have to return to the Ashengrotto residence. No doubt Azul’s mother was wondering where you two had gone off. 

Though, with the way Azul was staring at you, you think she could wait a few more minutes. If just to stay under his aquamarine gaze. 

*translation: “The moon lives in love (Ah-ah-ah) / And when I contemplate its gaze (wa-la-la-la-la-la-la) / It makes me dream (Ah-ah-ah)”

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Okay picture this:

Jaskier and Geralt end up by the coast for a monster hunting job with sirens. Geralt tells Jaskier to stay behind because he thinks that as a Witcher he will have a certain immunity to the sirens song, but as a man Jaskier would not. 

Cue the hunt Geralt goes down to water and Jaskier follows secretly behind. Geralt actually does get ensnared by sirens and Jaskier has to be the one to save him.

But Jaskier is pissed, “ I mean, really, Geralt you listen to these, these fish for five minutes and you’re already in love. But it took me!! Twenty years.” Jaskier never let him live this down, he brings it up in arguments over and over again.

“Oooh I fell for the monsters spell?? What about you mister oh the siren wouldn’t ensnare me”

“Oh you want me to be quiet?? Well I guess you prefer the song of a siren then hmmm?” (My headcannon is that Geralt actually like jaskier singing and talking but want him to be quiet on hunts)

Geralt is so confused on how Jaskier could be immune to sirens. He comes to the conclusion that Jaskier is one. He preforms bunch of tests that leave Jaskier perplexed, soaking wet and smelling of fish. But yet he can’t figure out why Jaskier has never changed forms.

He ends up, bringing jaskier to Kaer Morehn. He asked for his brothers and Vesmeirs help on trying to figure out why Jaskier was immune to sirens. They all believe his theory on Jaskier being a siren yet none of them can prove it. The tests get more and more ridiculous and nothing works. Jaskier firmly believes the reason he wasn’t ensnared is because he’s a musician.

Jaskier: “Why yes they had lovely voices but they were all very high pitched, a little scratchy if you asked me. Reminded me of my time in Oxford. Some of those singers could not hold a tune.”

Geralt: “you love the sea”

Jaskier: “of course I love the sea, do you know how many songs there are about the sea?? Hmmm Geralt?? Do you know how many different love stories I can create by using the sea as a metaphor??”

Geralt: “you like fish”

Jaskier: “it’s easier on my throat.”

Geralt is tearing out his hair. Vesmeir is so offended over the fact that he can’t prove anything concrete.

I don’t know what would be funnier ending, but I have options:

1: if he really was a siren who just didn’t know it

2: he challenged and siren (unknowing) to a singing competition, and the siren was so impressed that she blessed him with

2.5: he slept with a siren who liked him enough to bless him

3: he really was immune because he was a musician. I mean you really think that Oxford is turning out basic singers, absolutely not??

[calliesmemes]

EVEN MORE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED COMEDIC RELIEF

ASSORTED SENTENCE STARTERS FROM AROUND THE INTERNET, including quotes from Tumblr, Pinterest, TikTok, and X (formerly known as Twitter), for when a muse wants to lighten up the situation at hand.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   It’s sea shanty time once again my fellow bastards of the ocean! ”

“   Partner, I reckon that I ain’t been feeling very yeehaw lately. ”

“   I don’t study; I consult the lore. ”

“   Yeah, I understand women — they all want daggers and swords. It’s all quite simple, really. ”

“   Lord forgive me but I may have to make a nonessential purchase. ”

“   Those are bold words for someone in stabbing range. ”

“   Yes I’m a gatekeeper and a hater. I’m also God’s most favorite princess and the most interesting girl in the world. ”

“   My primary motivations are fear, spite, and aesthetic longing. ”

“   Man — if I had a sword, I wouldn’t be worried about shit. ”

“   It’s not blood that runs through these veins but glitter gel pen ink. ”

“   If I was in a Jane Austen novel, I would be the one sent to the seaside for my health. ”

“   Half of me is a hopeless romantic, and the other half of me is … well … an asshole. ”

“   I am the nicest, sweetest, most rage-filled person I know. ”

“   I hope I give off the vibe to all animals that I am their ally and their friend. ”

“   I see you’re paying attention to someone who is not me. Why is that? ”

“   Normalize letting me talk without making any sense. ”

“   Don’t care, didn’t ask, plus my psychic visions have predicted the outcome of this encounter. ”

“   I could be so much worse. For example, I could start acting like my father. ”

“   Sorry for acting so strange and irregular; It will happen again. ”

“   i love sitting in my room.....alone....a girl in her cave....scheming and plotting and drinking tea. ”

“   These man made horrors are beyond YOUR comprehension. I get it though. ”

“   I’m a goth girl on the inside. On the outside? A father figure. ”

“   I don’t need to face reality; I’m not just that type of girl. ”

“   DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A frickle-frackle? ”

“   I’m about to cha cha real smooth off a fucking cliff. ”

“   Sorry I told you about my trauma. Do you still think I’m hot? ”

“   My priorities aren’t straight and neither am I. ”

“   I have felt permanently guilty for no reason since I was like eight years old. ”

“   Of course I have a lot of pent up rage, you fool! I’ve been the same height since I was twelve years old! ”

“   I was born for shock value. ”

“   Good morning! God has let me live another day and I’m about to make it everyone’s problem. ”

“   Oh, I slept miserably because I was tormented by terrible visions all night. I hope none of them were prophetic! ”

“   Be the surreal nonsense that you want to see in the world. ”

“   Being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot. ”

“   My hobbies include knowing things and being right. ”

“   This is good advice, but don’t tell me what to do. ”

“   I hate the idea of authority. What the fuck is someone being superior to me? Bitch I’m gonna take your kneecaps. ”

“   Stop forgiving my crimes! I worked so hard on those! ”

“   My hobbies? Uhhhh, symbolism mostly. Metaphors and implications and the like. ”

“   I may not have any braincells, but I make up for it by having many heart cells. ”

“   I can’t mansplain manipulate manwhore my way out of this one guys! ”

“   Not all your life decisions have to be smart. Some can be purely for cinematic value. ”

“   Sometimes I wish I looked more fragile and feminine like a dainty flower, but I do enjoy looking like I hate everyone. ”

“   Any dream can be a prophetic dream if you’re willing to do some really weird shit. ”

“   girl help there is not enough enrichment in my enclosure. ”

“   BRO, you NEED to stop SUMMONING DEMONS in the FRAT HOUSE. ”

“   I just gave your address to some spiders! ”

“   I disappoint my father as a hobby now. ”

“   I think that the dark circles under my eyes add to my aesthetic actually. ”

“   Good news! I’ve successfully replaced all of my emotions with jokes! ”

“   I have half a braincell left and I’m very scared to use it! ”

“   Listen, son — in this world, it’s either yeet or be yeeted. ”

“   I appreciate the advice, but I think that I’m old enough to make my own bad decisions. ”

“   I’m disappointed in me too. Y’all aren’t special. ”

“   Running from your demons is the best exercise! ”

“   Sorry; I can’t commit any crimes with you. My mom says that I have to study. ”

“   Time flies when you don’t know what the fuck is going on. ”

“   If I run out of tacos, I can no longer maintain my human form. ”

“   Bestie, I don’t think that I can girlboss under these conditions. ”

“   Yeah I’ve had combat training; I can do anxiety attacks! ”

“   Swag is earned, not learned. ”

“   Contrary to popular belief, violence solves a lot. ”

“   I CANNOT STAND YOU ALL so I will SIT DOWN. ”

“   Please God no … I don’t need any more character development right now! ”

“   If you can’t beat ‘em, yeet ‘em. ”

“   Do not put me in a situation. I’m at my limit and I am very tired. ”

“   I may be depressed, but at least I’m not basic. ”

“   It’s MY LIFE and I’ll sabotage it myself, thank you. ”

“   Think twice? Bold of you to assume that I think once. ”

“   At the next inconvenience, I will start biting people. ”

“   Oops I think that I just experienced an emotion. ”

“   Did you know that rats spelled backwards is star? ”

“   One day, I’ll be reincarnated as a pigeon, and I’ll shit on your head. ”

“   On the outside, I’m a baddie — but on the inside, I’m a saddie. ”

“   My grandma bullies me through the Ouija board. ”

“   I’m a cool person if you can just look past my personality. ”

“   Beetles don’t have to do taxes, and I think that is a beautiful way to live. ”

“   I hope that you get your character development arc soon. ”

“   Those are some nice kneecaps … It’d be a shame if someone stole them … ”

“   I’ve wanted to be a trophy wife ever since I was a little boy. ”

“   I’m done being baby; I want POWER ”

“   Wait, “Just Standing There Ominously” doesn’t count as socializing? ”

“   Yes I am smart, and yes, I am stupid. It’s called being flexible. ”

“   I am NOT delusional!!!!! I am OPTIMISTIC! ”

“   I deserve compensation for not being the menace to society that i could be, like i'm skipping out on a lot of fun here. ”

“   Do not ask me if you should or shouldn't do something !!! Before I am a friend I am an enabler !!! ”

“   i am the WORLDS PRETTYIST PINK PRINCESS and im gonna KILL YOU WITH MY HUGE FUCKING HAMMER ”

[amuseoffyre]

Things worth remembering:

All Stede knows about Ed's breakdown is that it was because of him (You broke him/he took my leg cos I mentioned your name), He doesn't know about Ed's other trauma aside from his dad and while he knows Ed is disillusioned with pirating, he doesn't know the specifics about why.

Ed tends to speak in metaphors and while Stede tries to understand them, it's clear that sometimes he's missing the mark. Sometimes Ed isn't even sure of the metaphors himself, but once he has them, he holds onto them - the fish thing has got him especially.

And the thing is that Ed's only just learned to sit with himself in episode 5 and it's overwhelming him. At the beginning of 6, he's the stillest and quietest we've seen him and is gazing out to sea while having flashbacks to things he's done and people he's hurt (hello 1x09 callback).

And the thing is he's okay at the start of 7. He's made a decision about shedding the Blackbeard stuff. He doesn't say anything to anyone and he's ok until Jackie points out Stede is the rising star just when Ed wants out

He doesn't begrudge Stede being excited and happy with his new fame. He is afraid of what his presence has led Stede to: the conversation with Jackie is very much his "you defile beautiful things" moment, especially his presence brought Ned to Stede ("It's me you want").

He also doesn't understand why Stede killed Ned because Stede bottled up his trauma like his love letters. He doesn't even know why Stede a) became a pirate or b) went back to Mary, especially since Stede never actually told him where he'd been directly. He had to hear it from Anne - and Stede is betrayed by that as well ("I told you that in confidence")

Right now, he's feeling unmoored by his own identity and now Stede has taken a step that has fully changed him as a person too and dragged him straight back into the heart of piracy. He tells Jackie he wants out and she asks if Stede knows that and Ed's face just drops and he whispers "shit".

And he spends of the rest of the day thinking and quiet and realises that to process any of this mess, he needs to be away from the pirate world for a bit so he can get his head on straight because now it's roaring back in for him. He sits, he thinks, he realises he needs that space - he should speak to Stede but he tried that the day before and Stede still killed Ned.

Stede also lashes out, which definitely doesn't help. He's right. Ed is panicking, but Stede is also missing so many little clues. Ed never told him about dropping his leathers and Stede just sees him as Ed in other clothes. He doesn't understand the significance, even when everyone around them realises something is off. If even the Swede picks up on it, you know it's an obvious flag.

They both need to use their words and explain wtf is happening with both of them, but they are also both ridiculously traumatised by their past experience. Ed is afraid he's unlovable and now Stede is talking down his coping mechanism, so maybe he's right and Ed-as-Ed is unlovable, while Stede has been told his entire life he isn't enough, so becoming the ultimate pirate should be the win he's been looking for, only Ed isn't happy and Ed is leaving him, so maybe it's him that isn't enough after all.

They are both tangled up so much in their own histories and don't know enough about each others and that's why they keep lashing out and hurting each other so much - they each don't realise what they're saying is a different kind of weapon to the other.

[girlbossblackbeard]

I think I'm actually going clinically insane over the reverse "you wear fine things well" scene because 1) if Ed looked at me Like That it would be game over I would literally do anything he asked me up to and including throwing myself overboard I literally do not know how Stede didn't legitimately spontaneously combust the second Ed turned those eyes on him 2) GNOSSIENNE NO.5 FINALLY BEING USED THIS SEASON AS A JOYOUS MARKER OF ED AND STEDE'S LOVE FOR EACH OTHER AS GOD INTENDED THIS IS NOT A DRILL HOLY SHIT 3) THEIR FUCKIN!!!!!!!! COY TEENAGER SHY LITTLE SHUFFLE TOWARDS EACH OTHER RIGHT BEFORE THEY KISS!!!!!! THE WAY STEDE EVEN LOOKS AWAY FOR A SECOND BEFORE LOOKING BACK AT ED AND ED'S TINIEST LITTLE SMIRK BEFORE THEY BOTH LEAN IN WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 4) the way they grab each other's arm during the initial kiss I'm so sick to my stomach 5) THE MOON Y'ALL!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S NORMAL!!!!!!!!!!! BECAUSE THIS ISN'T A MOONLIGHT FANTASY OR AN INFATUATION THAT FEELS LARGER THAN LIFE BUT BURNS OUT QUICKLY!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS REAL AND IT'S RAW AND IT'S VULNERABLE AND IT'S GONNA LAST BECAUSE THIS NEW CHAPTER OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS BEING FOUNDED ON DOING EVERYTHING THEY CAN TO NOT LET THIS PRECIOUS THING THEY'VE FOUND WITH EACH OTHER TURN INTO ANOTHER WHIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IM LITERALLY GOING TO START FEROCIOUSLY CLIMBING THE WALLS 6) hoooooooly fuck the way stede inhales and grasps Ed's neck like he's a man lost at sea dying of dehydration and Ed is the first sip of cool clean water he's had in months im ill im so so so so ill 7) ED'S LITTLE SHUFFLE AFTER ASKING STEDE TO TAKE IT SLOW SIR IM BEGGING YOU TO STOP BEING SO ADORABLE it's causing me to develop a heart condition 8) stede's quiet "huh, okay 😌" after Ed busts out his fish wanting to get caught metaphor he's literally so charmed by Ed it seeps into everything he does 9) WEHN THYE!!!!!!!! HOODL AHNDS!!!!!!!!!!! HAND TOCUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 10) the way Ed is staring stede DIRECTLY in the eyes as he says "this? perfect" my vision is going black 11) SHUT IP SHUT UP SHUT UPPPPPPP THEIR SILLY LITTLE HAND HOLDING GAME AND STEDE WHUSPERING "you won 🥰" AND ED'S BLUSHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SMILE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AS HE LOOKS AWAY AND PATS STEDE'S HANDS BEFORE TELLING HIM A COOL FACT HE LEARNED TODAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY! ARE! LITERALLY! TEENAGERS! FALLING! IN! LOVE! FOR! THE! FIRST! TIME! EVER! oh I am in desperate need of medical attention after this one fellas I can tell this is going to have extremely long lasting and far reaching effects on my already severely compromised psyche

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

🌊 POSEIDON: God of the Sea, Storms & Earthquakes, Droughts, Floods, Horses🔱

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, it’s like a tsunami, a storm, and earthquake hit all at once; metaphorically and physically speaking. 

Everyone stares at you in disbelief, awe, and fear. 

You’re confused as you look at everyone’s reactions, then it starts to be unnerving. You’re even more confused when the people are parted, willingly and unwillingly when a boy with sea-foam green eyes pushes forward and stares at you with a gaped look. You stare at him back and notice the storm of emotions that passes through his eyes: shock, disbelief, joy, relief, fear, and anger. 

The boy finally reaches over to you and stands before you. You can feel the power from him, but you also feel a sense of ease. 

“Hi, my name is Percy Jackson….and I’m the son of Poseidon…your half-brother.”

You’re not taken to your cabin but instead, Percy leads you to the Big House, following Chiron, with a few individuals parting from the mass of people following behind you. When people whisper, you see Percy give them a look that made them freeze. 

Percy sticks by your side as you all gather around the table tennis with the other individuals, before you’re bombed with information about the Big Three, the oath they had taken, how it was abolished by yours truly, and how they didn’t expect to see another child of Poseidon; especially this ‘soon’. 

When you leave with all that information to process, Percy stands by your side and you two just stare out at Camp Half-blood, in awkward silence. You’re still reeling from the events that followed but there’s only so much awkward silence the two of you could take like a fish out of water. 

“So, you wanna see where the cabin is?” starts Percy, shrugging as casually he could. You could only nod before Percy helps take your bag and leads you. 

When you get to the Cabin, you open it up to see the large statue of Poseidon standing before you, feeling small and overwhelmed. Then you’re hit with the size of the cabin and how empty it feels. There are three bunk beds, but judging by two of them they looked already used, with stuff above the top bunk as some sort of storage. You can clearly tell which of the bunk beds is new as it’s not as used. You know they had to bring in another bunk bed from somewhere and manage to bring it in when you were guys having a meeting. 

You’re shown the ropes and as you walk together, eat together at the dinner table, and when you go back to your cabin, it hits you how long Percy has been alone by himself. He takes you to the repaired fountain in the back and as you soak your feet, he tells you everything and you tell him your story in between sharing the bag of blue candy. 

As you go to lie in bed, then it hits you that despite being alone and with the occasional visit from Tyson, you notice that while the cabin isn’t that occupied, you notice the life that’s been put into it. The decorations, the minotaur horn on the wall-

Percy acts like a big, supportive big brother that is there to catch you. He takes you to the water and the pegasus stall, the former where if you want to be alone and the pegasus stall to have them listen to you. He teaches you what he learned by himself and guides you in parts he wished he had someone there for. And you’re there to make him remember that he isn’t alone and he is loved. 

When you get claimed, its as if a tsunami, a storm, and an earthquake had happened all at once, and you were the epicenter. Everyone looked absolutely shaken and were gaping at you.

Then you see a boy with sea green eyes and when you two make eye contact, it’s as if you were both lost at sea and found each other in the giant ocean. You saw his face go through many emotions before it settled into a smile, before he stepped up towards you. 

“Hi, my name is Percy Jackson. I’m the son of Poseidon…and I guess you’re my sibling.”

You stare at him before the whispers of everyone around you become harder to ignore. Percy looks at them, some silencing themselves as his eyes land upon them before he sighs, rubs the back of his neck before gently hovering his hand behind your back. 

“Come on, let’s go talk in somewhere private” he coaxed softly. You nodded and followed his soft guide. You get a rundown of what has happened, the Big 3 and their oath, and how it was absolved by Percy. Given the fact the time frame, no one had expected another child of the Big Three to appear that soon. Though they were pretty sure Zeus already had a few and it was only a matter of them before they made landfall in droves. 

Everything was utterly overwhelming and you were trying to process it all, not just the information but also your emotions. The storm within you was building and you weren’t sure if you could contain it. 

Then you found yourself at the beach and then everything became calmer as you listened to the sound of the water overlapping each other. You dug your toes deeper into the sand and then you became more aware of the presence by your side. 

You looked over at Percy who looked towards the water, sitting casually on the washed up log that you were on, a bag of blue candy dangling in his hand. 

Without looking at you, he held out the bag of blue candy towards you in a silent gesture. You took one and inspected it, wondering why he had a bag of just blue candy.

“Blue’s my favourite colour,” started Percy. “When someone told my mom that there was no such thing as blue food or drink, she went out of her way to prove him wrong. My mom would always make blue cookies and cake, buy me blue candy. I have a feeling my mom also liked blue because it reminded her of Poseidon, but it also reminded her of me. And now when I eat blue food, I’m reminded of my mom and also our dad in a way.”

You listened as the blue candy sat on your tongue. You weren’t sure if it was the candy itself or what Percy said, but as the candy dissolved in your mouth, you swore it made you feel better. 

“I get everything is pretty overwhelming. It was like that for me and trust me, it was a lot…but you’re not alone like I was. I’ll do my best to be there for you, not as a child of Poseidon but also your brother. So if you feel a bit too alone, remember I’m here.”

You shifted your feet in nervousness. “It sort of feels like I have to fill in your shoes and I don’t think I can” you admitted. 

Percy put a hand on your shoulder, “And I don’t want you to. Not because of pride or anything, but it was tough. There was a lot of pressure and a lot on the line. I gained so much glory and so much more, but I could’ve lost it all. Hopefully you won’t have to go through like I did…but if you do, I’ll be by your side.”

“Thanks Percy…I’ll try.”

He smiled, “That’s all I ask” he said before he looked back at the water for a moment. He stood up and gestured to you, “Come on, let me show you the places only a child of Poseidon can go.”

You grinned before yelling, “I’ll race you!”

“You’re on!” laughed Percy before the two of you sprinted down the sand and jumped into the water, laughing in your private domain. As you descended into the water, bubbles reached up and popped in on your face, soft like a kiss to your hairline. 

[boinin]

Batten down the hatches: Rin's ego is about to land

The latest chapters show Rin playing with an unfamiliar aura: what looks like swirling rivulets of water.

This represents the refinement of his ego and playstyle since the under-20 match. But what exactly are they going for with the swirling water? Here's my two cents.

Rin is strongly associated with water, specifically the sea. He grew up by the coast; he and Sae shared a love of watching the sunset over the water after training together. Those childhood memories are turbulent now, like dark clouds on the ocean's horizon.

It's here he realises that he can no longer play the puppetmaster football that helped him thrive in Blue Lock. As good as he is, it wasn't authentic... and it's nowhere near where he needs to be to compete with his brother, or even Isagi.

Rin's flow state is the most unique out of any others we've seen. Let's dig into it. All panels are from the official translation, which is important as the translation choices are 1) consistent and 2) likely chosen carefully.

In the dying moments of the match, Rin complains about feeling restrained. Being Itoshi Rin is eating him alive.

Cool, calm and aloof.

A genius. Prodigy. Puppetmaster.

Team player. Team captain.

Isagi Yoichi's partner. Shidou Ryuusei's rival.

Itoshi Sae's little brother.

The prospect of defeat rudely wakes him up. His pretence comes crashing down hard, triggered by his ineffectiveness in spite of the teammates around him. It's one of the best rugpulls in sports manga.

When the power of friendship comes knocking, Itoshi Rin tells it to fuck off and die.

What a glorious moment... and not just because it posits Rin as a Uchiha Sasuke kinnie. I prompt you to examine his eyes in this panel.

They're a swirling vortex of hate and destruction, befitting Blue Lock's angstiest character. The shape reminds me of this:

Satellite images of Hurricane Franklin and Hurricane Idalia, August 2023. Image credit: NOAA Satellites.

Rin's true ego, which he unleashes against Sae, is a storm.

Optional soundtrack for the rest of this post (because Rin 100% listens to this once it comes out in Blue Lock's universe).

Although it isn't portrayed visually as such in the under-20 arc, the metaphor fits Rin's evolving playstyle. What is more destructive, more uncontrollable, more senseless than a hurricane? A violent force of nature that we can predict but never avert?

When a storm approaches, all we can do is rank it, track it, then attempt to mitigate the inevitable damage.

In football terms? Sounds a lot like playing Rin.

It's even alluded to in chapter 250: the graphics for Rin's formation are similar to the satellite images of large storms.

Within the U20 match, there are exchanges that support this theory. Darai calls Rin's evolving playstyle arrogant and avaricious. The latter (meaning extreme greed) is evocative of a force that pursues what it wants without regard for anything in its surroundings. What it can't have, it destroys.

Niou is confident enough in his physicality to try withstand his opponent's attrack. Rin literally flips him into the air. Niou's hubris brings to mind all man-made constructs which are supposedly storm-proof... until a cyclone comes along and proves otherwise.

The contrast between Rin and Sae's egos are interesting. If we accept Rin's is a storm, i.e. a destructive force of nature that cannot be controlled, Sae's is the opposite despite being as impossible to defy. Sae's motif is defined in the manga as "beautiful destruction", plays and passes depicted in graceful data strings. Rather than natural, his playstyle is sleek and controlled, and dominant to the point of appearing pre-ordained by his opponents.

Their attitudes are equally different. While Rin drools and loses composure in the final minutes, Sae does little more than raise his eyebrows throughout the entire game. He's completely emotionless.

It's the extremes of human nature: animalistic rage versus robotic detachment. This time, the latter wins. Will Rin have an opportunity to face his brother again, with a better grasp on his ego? Here's hoping.

My final thoughts on Rin are speculative. How does one beat a storm? Not just endure—but subdue and calm one?

It's beyond human capability. The ability to control the weather exists only in myth and fantasy, and even then it's usually in the hands of powerful entities, not mere heroes or wizards.

Subduing something as powerful as a hurricane would require a god.

Is this Isagi and Rin's endgame?

Time will tell.

[stressfulsloth]

Thinking about Harry and all the animal parallels that follow him through the narrative. It's true that these animal parallels reflect the way that the brutality of individualist moralism strips him of humanity as someone who has fallen through the safety nets, and his agonised shout of 'I don't want to be this kind of animal anymore' can be interpreted as a direct admission of the RCM's dehumanisation of him as a disabled addict who is no longer as 'useful' as he once was. Gottlieb even directly tells him '[he] lost [his] human visage a while back.' Jean calls him 'the most dangerous animal of them all'. The rabid dog that needs to be put down, the black dog (also a common metaphor for chronic mental illness!) that Mollins shoots as it licks its wounds; the scared, hurt, frightened animal lashing out, chewing off it's own leg to escape the trap that it's caught in. The wild dog is all they can see.

But then there is a flipside to these parallels too; a kindness, a gentleness, almost a freedom in Harry’s animal parallels. He's strong like a 'goddamn ox,' like a bear ('I had to kill the bear to become the bear'). He's a harrier hawk, a name given to ensure his safety, raised up to the level of the aerostatics looking down over Revachol, 'soar[ing] on the wings of [his] spirit hawk.' He's a leopard ('its impossible to know where you end and the leopard begins'), discovering or rediscovering a love of softness and sensuality that he'd not known before via the leopard print leotard that 'speaks to the animal inside [him]' and touches on his relationship with his gender ('Yes, this is the type of animal I want to be.').

He's a 'seagull', a bird that will do 'whatever it takes to survive,' a 'bird of paradise' that tells a story of 'endurance- and adaptation' ('You! You and the seagull are just alike!'). He survives, despite everything, despite the grimness of the world around him. He endures. Even the sea monster comparison is oddly kind ('You've become a sea monster -- giant, hidden and... strangely tender at heart'). Even as a monster, he's still gentle; he still has so much love for this world that has wrung every last bit out of him. As if his tenderness is such an inherent part of him that no matter what monstrous face he wears, no matter what creature is there in his shadow, he cannot help but have some trace of it at his core. His tender soul 'quivering like jello.' The pain he feels is raw and animal but so is the love he feels. So is the hope and the fear and the wonder.

[revehae]

naiveté

pairing ↠ mermaid!chaewon × (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ dubcon, mermaid!chaewon x human!reader, oral, posessivelreader, dom!reader, sub!chaewon, yandere themes

summary ↠ when a mermaid far too curious about humanity for her own good washes up at your front door, metaphorically speaking, you realize that you can use her naivety to your advantage.

wc ↠ 4.0k

a/n ↠ part 4/5 of the legend has it series!

don't like it, don't read.

you couldn’t believe your eyes. 

there was a stunning girl in front of you with a beauty unmatched by any other woman in the country. she was completely naked, hardly spoke, and her wrists were sore for the restraints tight around her only moments ago. 

until you stepped in and fought every sailor on the ship she’d been brought onto, defending her from the grabby hands of every man aboard. chaewon could only watch in horror, wondering if she was next. when you came up to her after the bloodshed, she tried to writhe out of the taut knots behind her back, not understanding that you had only come to defend her.

the more you marveled her, the more you wondered how a naked girl seemed to be birthed directly out of the sea, you came to only one logical conclusion. she was not human. rather, she was not supposed to be.

it didn’t account for the supple pair of legs that she had, but it did account for her inability to use them. it was not safe for a woman around the territory where drunk men sailed for months without contact from the opposite sex. that was why you took chaewon, which she later told you was her name, all the way back to your cabin.

though on the way there and when she arrived, chaewon acted very unfamiliar with her surroundings, as if she had never seen ordinary things like trees and hairdryers before. she couldn’t walk, falling to her knees with every effort. and though you had never believed in the supernatural, unless this girl lived under a rock her whole life, then she had to have come from underwater.

“you’re not from here,” you’d confronted within a couple hours of having her inside your room. 

chaewon’s eyes flickered with terror. she had heard horror stories of what happened to mermaids when they got too close to humans.  how merciless humankind could be.  she was to stay clear of it, though she had gotten close to the surface. among other things. “that’s not true.”

you scoffed, “baby, please. it’s not hard to tell. you’re like a fish out of water.”

chaewon swallowed to damp her throat. she guessed it was an apt comparison, all things considered. never had she not been very interested in the upper world. it was so foreign and she ached to explore it and all of its dangers.

when she said nothing, you knew you were right on the money, and continued, “i don’t know how you’re here nor do i care to. but your lack of familiarity with the human world is concerning and if you want, i can teach you how to act like one of us. the second people know you’re not like the rest of us, there’s no telling what’ll happen to you.”

chaewon whispered, “you’re gonna teach me… how to be human?”

“i’m going to try,” you clarified. “at the very least, it’s important that you know how to run and care for yourself.”

that was what you said, but little did chaewon know, you had much darker intentions in mind. the second you saw her exposed body, tangled in knots, you knew that you had to have her. and you knew that nobody else could. 

still, you did teach her the basics of being a human. how to cook simple things and the like. you allowed her to step outdoors, though only under your supervision. given her curious nature, you wouldn’t be surprised if she attempted to run away, just to explore the unfamiliarities of the world around her.

everything little thing astonished her. you had never seen anyone with such glimmering stars in their eyes. nature was chaewon’s favorite. she loved holding little snails in her hands and gawking at the wildflowers near your cabin, but never dared to pick them. she likened them to vibrant coral reefs. it was astounding how life on earth could be so similar yet so different to life underwater.

things stayed that way for a while, but your urges quickly took precedence. given how frequently you were around chaewon, it was difficult to suppress them. because you only had one bedroom, you offered to let her share your bed.

the most difficult thing you had ever done was keep yourself composed while you slept not even a total of inches away from each other. when you went to bed, you were at least a couple of inches apart, though when you roused, she was cuddling you. you couldn’t stand being so close to her and not doing a damn thing about it.

that was where the lies began.

after plenty careful shopping, you presented chaewon with a number of brassieres for her to sport around the house. only, she was under the impression that they were innocent tops, much like the ones she wore back home in the ocean.

maybe they weren’t exactly the same. the tops were a bit more revealing than the ones that she used to wear, but chaewon accepted that she was not home and was more than happy to embrace human tradition.

and then it was time for you to strike. 

“chaewon,” you called out, popping your head into your bedroom. chaewon was sitting on your bed with an earbud in, listening to music you’d shown her. “i bought you some more clothes.”

chaewon’s eyes twinkled. “really?” so, so naive, you couldn’t help but think. 

she didn’t question the alarming amount of so-called new clothes that you bought her, only constantly expressing her gratitude. she could never wait to try them on, much to your amusement. and maybe your delight. there was a reason why you bought so many.

you didn’t say anything, just smiling while you outstretched your hand, the bag dangling from your fingers. chaewon instantly lost interest in the music she’d been listening to, which she’d said before reminded her of sea nymphs, and leapt up to accept the bag with the politest thanks you’d ever heard.

chaewon didn’t think twice about whether or not it was normal to change in front of you, removing the underwear set she was currently wearing to don the new one you bought her. just the sight of her naked, even if only for a couple of moments, made an ache develop between your thighs.

this set was an innocent white color with flimsy, see-through fabric. chaewon stepped in front of your mirror, eyes brimming with wonder. “it’s so cute - i love it! thank you!”

“anything for you,” you said quietly, your eyes fallen to the hind view that you had of her ass.

noticing something, chaewon’s face quickly soured. “but there’s a cut,” she said, referring to a slit in her underwear. “i think it’s ruined.”

playing dumb, you asked, “can i see?”

chaewon nodded, crawling onto your bed and spreading her legs so that you could see the cut in her underwear that had her so saddened. you crept over, separating her thighs a little more to examine the slit that gave you perfect access to her holes without the need to slip them to the side.

your mouth was watering at the sight of her pretty pink pussy. if you were being frank, you thought you deserved a round of applause for being able to wait it out this long. your patience was never good when it came to things like this.

as if your fingers had a mind of their own, one of them moved to brush against her cunt, and you swore you heard the slightest tremble in chaewon’s breath. you knew, as it were, that she was indebted to you. chaewon had only you to thank for the sense of security she felt, no matter how false, and you wholeheartedly intended to keep it that way. though you also knew that, if kept naive enough, chaewon would happily do as you asked.

chaewon shifted uncomfortably. “is it ruined?”

“no, it’s not. it was designed like that,” you said matter-of-factly, rising from the position. sometimes the best lie was the truth.

chaewon was evidently confused. you adored that she processed outwardly, all her features cutely tensed. “why?”

“because it’s a special outfit,” you replied. “it makes it easier for fun activities humans like to do.”

naturally, chaewon had ample interest in the human world and their ways of life, and she desperately wanted to be a part of them. “can we do it?” she asked.

you chuckled, resisting. though only because you knew she wouldn’t back down. “you don’t even know what it is.”

“well, yeah, but…,” chaewon trailed, sitting up now. “i’m really curious.”

you sat down beside her, planting a palm on her exposed thigh and leisurely beginning to move it in a pattern. “have you ever heard that curiosity killed the cat?”

“no, it’s always been curiosity killed the otter.”

you snickered. “and did satisfaction bring it back?”

“something like that, yeah,” chaewon chirped.

if chaewon noticed how much closer your hand got to her hardly clothed pussy, she said nothing. “i could show you so much satisfaction, chaewon,” you purred, leaning into her ear, in spite of the fact that it was only you and her there to bare witness to whatever unfolded there in your room. “but only if you want to.”

“i want to,” chaewon replied without a second thought.

you pulled back, eyes flitting up her face. “you sure?”

chaewon bobbed her head excitedly. she had no idea what you had in store for her and yet she was so enthusiastic. 

“lie back down.”

chaewon did as told, eager.

you were back between her slender legs again, separating them, and thumbed the little slit in her underwear. “you wanna know what this is for?”

“badly,” was chaewon’s response. 

you doubted there were even words to describe just how mad she drove you. without a second thought, you dove your head between her plush set of thighs, your self-restraint snapping. you clamped your fingers onto her thighs for now, only lapping at her as if you had something to prove.

little noises were already escaping her parted lips and they were the sweetest sounds that you’d ever heard. they were accompanied by little breaths, tiny moments of her quickening heartbeat before it was as if her pulse died, then came back to life.

and it stayed like that, until it didn’t. until her breaths started to come quicker and quicker, and her soft moans increased not only in frequency, but in pitch. it wasn’t difficult to be enamored with her. the second you discovered that such saccharine noises could be ripped from the very back of her throat, you knew that you would do everything in your power to keep her isolated from the rest of your world. she was not for sale and she was yours.

“woah,” chaewon exhaled, chest heaving like a raging ocean. “that feels really good.”

you hummed, though you didn’t part to speak, because you didn’t plan on moving until you were certain that she had orgasmed. desperately did you need her to cum on your tongue. and your fingers. you inserted a pair inside her cunt, her gushy walls accepting.

the stimulation from both your warm mouth and adroit fingers made chaewon’s entire body start to shudder, an involuntary reaction that she couldn’t begin to control. this was pleasure and she had never before felt anything like it. especially not when you were tonguing her clit like it was nothing, sending floods of warmth and sensitivity to wreck through her core.

chaewon could barely speak as it was, every thought evaporating from her brain, though that only proved how ravaging this feeling was. it was destruction in its natural form, in its truest nature, and it was raw.

“oh my gosh,” chaewon whimpered, the cutest little look on her face. 

there was a large part of you that just wanted to make her feel like this forever and ever, and you needed to know how much she could take. as much as she was yours (even if she didn’t know it yet), she was delicate, and though you wanted to protect her, you couldn’t shake the part of you that longed to break her.

only you could be trusted with the most intimate workings of her physical form. those sailors might’ve been motivated by the same interests as you, the same pent-up desires, but none of them would care for chaewon the way you had.

maybe it was naive of you, for a change, to think that you could keep a spirit as longing as chaewon’s kept away and suppressed, but if push came to shove, there were many things that you were more than willing to do if it meant it would keep her closer to you for another day. she would just have to understand that this world wasn’t made for her. and there was no way you could be certain she’d be safe out there.

i’m going to make her depend on me, you thought, resolved. i’m going to make her need me. she’ll forget about the rest of the world. she’ll forget about home.

that you were certain of.

“fuck,” chaewon whimpered, followed by an itching cry of your name. it did something to you, make something fracture from within.

there was something about the sound of your name on her tongue that made you lose was what left of your goddamn mind. noting that she was (obviously) close, you were more vicious in your endeavors, drinking all of her arousal like you were parched.

in a way, it wasn’t far from the truth. it had been a long time since you’d found someone to satisfy your cravings and yet you’d forgotten everybody that came before chaewon. with your mouth on her pussy, and your name on her lips, she was all that you could will yourself to think about.

chaewon only thought about you too, because you were the first to show her ecstasy of this caliber and it felt ungodly. she could make little sense of what was happening to her body - the involuntary movements and the want flaring through her core in large numbers. and second after second, it somehow only intensified.

there was a sensation sitting heavy on the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t describe. it wasn’t crushing, though chaewon knew that it could consume her not if she let it, but if it so pleased. she wasn’t chanting your name, but it was like her whines went through one of your ears and the other. you were completely gone, drunk off a hint of her.

calling out your name again, louder, chaewon followed, “i think something’s...”

the last of her sentence was cut off by a final, sharp cry of ache, heavy on her gut and weighing on her chest. your thumb was on her clit, continuing to stimulate her as she got off, wiggling her hips forward into your mouth and writhing uncontrollably.

you took great delight in watching her fall apart at the seams, because there was something about it happening at your hand. chaewon was at your mercy and you preferred it like that, because that way, she had nobody else to run to. it was your name she cried while she battled pleasure for authority over her body and ultimately surrendered every bit of it.

you didn’t stop until chaewon’s body slumped and gave in to exhaustion. rising from your knees, you came to sit beside her weak figure, observing from a different angle. “so, was it fun?”

“yeah,” chaewon exhaled shakily. “can i do that to you?”

something about the thought of chaewon’s pretty little face between your legs made you giggle, though you weren’t opposed. “another time,” you replied. “i have something else you can do.”

as if she weren’t utterly spent, chaewon’s eyes sparkled with eagerness. “like what?”

minutes later, you had a strap-on secured around your hips, and it was your turn to lie back on the mattress. chaewon had jumped to undress you the second that the words escaped your mouth, obedient and eager to please as she was, and you wallowed in every second. now, she was more than excited to ride your strap.

though she looked amazing in it, you removed the bra from her chest no sooner had she stripped you bare. you wanted to squeeze her pretty breasts in your palms while she rode the soul out of you.

chaewon glanced to you, looking at you with so much wonder, and asked, “how far do i go?”

“whatever’s comfortable, baby,” you said nonchalantly, in spite of the fact that you were counting down the seconds until she’d be bouncing.

in the next minute, chaewon was lowering herself onto you through the little slit in her underwear, careful and steady. because of the sheer size, you were surprised to see her sink completely down, though also dumbfoundedly proud.

your eyes darted to her face. every emotion was etched across. “too much?”

not anymore than she asked for. “no,” chaewon replied, shaking her head. “i can take it. i promise.”

it didn’t take a genius to understand that chaewon was resolved to impress you, no matter how taxing it was or how much it took out of her, and you were honored to realize that she had such a high opinion of you. obviously, she didn’t know the extent of how dangerous you could be, in spite of the fact she witnessed the bloodshed you’d caused in her defense, though you hoped that she wouldn’t need to.

chaewon started slow and you didn’t blame her, just trying to get accustomed to the unmistakable girth, and those pretty little sighs began to simmer into your ears again. you would never be able to get enough of them. matter of fact, you were certain they would start to replay in your head at one point.

chaewon rasped, “it’s really big.”

“do you need to go back up?”

“no!” chaewon vehemently insisted. “i can do this.”

“i’m sure you can, angel,” you purred, tightening your hold at her perfect hips.

though you’d been tempted, you didn’t try to guide her along, sensing that she would definitely refuse all help and insist that she was perfectly capable of riding you on her own. so your hands just stayed still and flat, allowing her to do as she pleased.

all the while, you were enjoying the view from below, watching her take you like a queen upon her throne. her breasts dangled tantalizingly in front of your face, almost as if they were begging to be sucked. you were of a mind to test yourself, gauging how much you could handle before your greed consumed you in your entirety.

to say the least, you knew that it couldn’t have been a lot.

it was bewitching how she managed to swallow your strap whole. though you were aware that she could barely take it as it was, you fully intended to buy larger toys to use on her. with some size training, you knew she would be taking it all like a champ in no time. she had the resolve and tenacity.

and more importantly, she had you. for whatever reason, whenever you were in the picture, her happiness skyrocketed. maybe it was because you essentially saved her life or took her in and taught her the ways of human life, but whatever it was, chaewon had her affections alloted to you.

“you’re so pretty,” you whispered with a two-minute delay. you were too absorbed in your thoughts to relay them just as quickly as they appeared in your brain.

chaewon started to beam, smile stretching from one ear to the other. hearing your praise made her whole face flush, little whines slipping from her pink lips. and though you couldn’t feel it, much to your chagrin, she couldn’t help but grip around you.

lifting one hand from her hip, you started to fondle her supple breasts, kneading them with your hands. chaewon’s eyes fluttered close as her pace quickened and she settled on a fitting rhythm, riding effortlessly now that she’d adjusted to your size. one of these days, you wanted to rail her into oblivion, but it would wait. you were more than content to watch her bounce on top of you.

chaewon, to say the least, was enthralled. not only in the wonders that were your lifestyle as a human being, but the forbidden pleasures she’d been deprived of as a mermaid. there was something about how this big whatchamacallit felt, brushing against her walls and strumming her to climax all over again.

you satiated her curiosity. some of it, at least. but what mattered in the moment was that she was satisfied, just as you swore she would be, and in ways she couldn’t fathom. from the throbbing in her core to the wriggle in her toes and the heat spasming in her palms, all of it was unthinkable.

fuck. oh my goodness. fuck, was all that floated around chaewon’s head, because if she wasn’t saying it (her mouth was far too occupied with those sweet-sounding cries to speak), she was definitely thinking it.

chaewon was far too dazed to even notice, but you, for one, were addicted to the wet sound that came with every meet of her hips with your strap. you were showing her what it meant to be aroused. and someday, if she somehow did escape you, even though you couldn’t imagine letting yourself permit that to happen, you would make sure she knew that nobody could ever bring her euphoria quite like you.

there was sweat gathering at chaewon’s face, an indication of how long and how hard the two of you had been at this, but all you really gave a damn about was how it made her skin glisten. how beautiful it looked when coupled with the sunlight filtering through your open window. you weren’t concerned with being spied on, because with how deep in the middle of nowhere you lived, you rarely had visitors and certainly no neighbors.

“it’s happening again,” chaewon noticed, referring to the sensation in her gut. 

“that’s normal,” you said, assuring.

chaewon’s movements only got more vigorous, as if she couldn’t wait to get herself there, and you knew that it wasn’t far from the truth. “i’m so…,” she trailed, breaths coming quicker. 

“you’re close,” you finished for her, grinning. “cum for me, baby. show me you can do it again.”

you knew that she could. god, she came so hard when you were going down on her. you yourself could’ve came untouched just from watching her get off.

“so close,” chaewon squeaked, rocking herself against you harder. and much, much faster. she was so impatient. “please.”

you were coaxing her there, whispering, “milk my strap, baby. come on. do it for me.”

for whatever reason, everything felt so much more intense in that moment compared to every second preceding. the room seemed a thousand degrees hotter, which the sweat down chaewon’s back was a testament to, but half the heat was coming from inside.

then the girl on top of you arched into you and it was game over, her stilling as the chase came to an abrupt halt. release was instantaneous. chaewon could feel it everywhere and it was mind-numbing and explosive. she wrung her toes, anchoring herself on your bare shoulders as raw pleasure shot through her chest and spine.

and you watched every second. you were obsessed. all you could think, eyes fixed to her orgasming form, was, she’s so goddamn gorgeous.

when the unsparing afterhighs faded, chaewon slumped against you, weakened by her continuous actions and the energy put into the hunt for climax. though you desperately wanted to push her, you would save it for another day. she was panting hard and heavy against your chest, so worn.

chaewon’s misty eyes flitted to yours, whispering, “did i do good?”

“you did perfect, angel,” you crooned, kissing her forehead. chaewon giggled, dismounting you and snuggling closer to you. “absolutely perfect.”

it was comfortable silent (other than the combined sound of your open-mouthed breathing) for maybe five minutes. you wallowed in the weight of chaewon’s body on your chest and her breath on your neck, a reminder that she was there.

what you didn’t speak was for her to ask, “can we go again?”

your eyes flickered in shock. god, this girl just doesn’t know when to quit, you thought amusedly.

[shoccolatine]

purple.

⚘pairing: rafayel x gn!reader ⚘summary: for the first time, rafayel asks for your help with his latest painting. ⚘tags: sfw, oneshot, 2nd person POV, gender-neutral reader, fluff, mutual understanding, a lot of metaphors, blushy rafayel bc boy can BLUSH ⚘word count: 943 ⚘a/n: hi!! i started playing l&ds two weeks ago and i am HOOKED. rafayel is my favourite, and so i was inspired to try writing his voice! this is my first l&ds writing so thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy~!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As usual, the door to Rafayel's home studio is unlocked. You push it open and slip inside, removing your shoes. The heat of your bare feet sticks against the surprisingly cool hardwood floor as you move into the room.

Rafayel is actually where you expect him to be for once, headfirst in a painting you haven't seen before. You sigh and get ready to settle in for a while, knowing how absorbed he gets when inspiration hits. He probably didn't even hear you come in. So it catches you off guard when he actually speaks first.

"Hey. Come over here," he says as he slides a thick, wet stroke of paint onto the canvas, never looking away.

You oblige without fuss, mainly because his tone is so airy and earnest that you feel being mischievous right now would go over his head. You stop next to him.

"What do you think?" He asks, still gazing at his work.

You puff air out your nose. "You're asking for my thoughts? That's a new one."

He finally looks at you then, his expression just as light and floaty as his voice had been. It's not a side of Rafayel that you're used to, but it's one you find most interesting—the one where he's so deep in artistic expression that he himself has become one with his canvas. An abstract impression of its own creator. A secluded forest monk reaching a state of nirvana like sunlight's warmth on his face.

You don't see it often, since he paints in solitude and you get him out of the house more than he bargained for, but it's the rare intrigue of it that makes this Rafayel all the more special.

"Just tell me," he says simply.

You finally take a good look at the artwork perched on the easel.

It's gorgeous and colourful, his trademark thick strokes, playful yet meticulous and reminiscent of sea foam, present a scene that is at once novel and familiar. It's significantly warmer than most of his other paintings, liberally using more reds and purples alongside his usual blues, as if plucked directly from a sunset.

Knowing Rafayel, if he could do just that, he would.

And yet, as lovely as it is, you can't help but feel like something's... off. The canvas is nicely underpainted, but the centre is dreadfully blank. The painting has no focal point.

"It's missing something," you point out. He hums a thoughtful "mhm" in reply, as if those were the exact words he was waiting to hear.

Suddenly, he turns the paintbrush on you. You realize, a bit delayed, that he's holding it out as an offering.

"I want you to add something to it."

"Huh? Me?" He doesn't respond right away, so you continue. "What would you want me to do?"

Rafayel shakes his head, but there's a gentle smile on his lips. "If I told you what to do, then I might as well just do it myself."

His smile remains as silence grows between the two of you, a silent invitation beckoning a leap of faith. You break his gaze to turn back to the canvas, the gaping void in the centre like an eye of the storm, pulling you in and yet blowing you in every direction. What could you possibly add to this piece that Rafayel couldn't?

"I thought you hated people messing with your work. This is a trick, isn't it?"

He shakes his head again, his soft messy purple curls tickling his lashes. "Kinda a lame trick. And annoying. I put a lot of hard work into this already, only for it to go to waste like that..." he says, and the pouty Rafayel you're more accustomed to is back. "Besides, you're not 'people'. You're you."

"And what exactly does that mean?"

"It means you know what this painting needs. You'll treat it well. You know my vision for it more than anyone else because, well... my vision is you." His voice trails down to a whisper.

You look at the painting once more, with new eyes. This painting... is you?

"Rafayel..." you say, unable to say much else.

He takes your hesitation gently, holding it like a hand and guiding it along, taking the reins and allowing you to find your footing again. "It looks different from my other pieces, right? I'm sure you noticed. That's because you make me different. Not like I've changed for you or anything, but more like... I've changed because of you. You know?"

"Um...? Not really," you reply sincerely.

He taps his chin thoughtfully. "You're red where I'm blue. And together, we make purple." He breathes out a laugh. "It sounds so simple when I put it like that. It's not that simple at all. Nothing about you is simple. You're annoying and loud and strong and everything I'm not, and yet somehow we blend together so well that I don't know how I was able to be content with being blue for so long. I want to be blue, and red, and purple. But only your shade of red will do."

He pauses, his ears a dark shade of the exact colour he speaks of. His eyes are pleading, as if saying 'understand me as I understand you', and before he can open his mouth to spout more abstract nonsense, you dip the brush in red—a perfect match to the hue blooming in his face. You are in this colour as much as he is.

"I think I know what to do now," you say, and your red splatters over his blue, mingling purple like summer plums, sweet and sour and bursting.

[bookobsessedfreak]

lost in translation ◦ b.c

-being an author comes with its ups and downs, when your deep in the dumps about your poetry bangchan is quick to comfort you.

Paring ◦ Bangchan x GN!Reader Words ◦ 3,045 Genre ◦ Hurt and comfort Warnings ◦ Lotsss of projecting, descriptions of blood, lots of depressing thoughts, descriptions of drowning, bad jokes, rambling ofc, mild cursing cause the reader is frustrated, bangchan being the sweetest boyfriend ever, to much crying, pretty sure I said the same damn thing like 12 times 🥲 not edited cause half my shit deleted trust this was 10 times better when I wasn't scrounging to try and remember what the fuck I had said 3 weeks ago💀 A/N ◦ This is literally just me projecting lol. I kinda wanted to write something about what it's like to experience feeling like you're an idiot because sometimes the words just aren't coming to you. idk how I feel about the poetry sorta thing at the beginning I'm still trying to find my voice so please be gentle also the beginning Is a little weird but I kind of was trying to make it look chaotic to symbolize the chaos in the readers mind idk tell me how you feel about it, also if anyone is willing to be my beta reader id literally love you forever okay enough rambling hope you enjoy reading it :) P.S the 6th line says missing but its supposed to symbolize the fact that the letter is missing just in case you don't catch that the first time around :) P.P.S(cause I never shut up) Future cookie here: ngl I'm rereading this and I'm like wtf is this I really don't even know if theirs a plot here idk Links ◦ Masterlist ◦ Taglist ◦ Rules ◦ Navigation ~CookieCreates🍪

Poetry was the language of the soul, but sometimes it felt like your words were lost in translation, living in a constant state of lethologica.

Poetry wasn't supposed to be perfect, it was supposed to make you feel something. Well, what do you do when your poetry is about as poetic as wet dirt.

Your art always felt awkward

out of place

like the letters were seemingly bent out of

s h a p e

or maybe some were

m i s i n g?

Punctuation like pretzels twisting about.

Periods,

commas?

Why couldn't your brain just work?

Why wouldn't your heart just bleed?

Synonyms were slick, slithering between your fingertips like snakes, but when you searched your soul for the sentences, it felt like they were always stuck.

The world of writing was such a confusing place.

Your words grew dull under the pressure of a pencil, always writing, always working, always saying the same damn things over and over. Your work was like a cemetery, gray ghosts of eraser marks and pencil scratches, sentences you ditched, splinters of your soul you couldn't seem to squeeze out, your writing was always faded but never forgotten. 

They mocked you, laughed at you, words with mouths, sentences with structures. 

How silly. 

How stupid. 

You stare at the paper, imagining them with mocking mouths and smiling lips. Some would think you’re crazy, but you're not crazy. No, you’re spiraling. 

Spiraling

Spiraling

Spiraling in a whirlpool

Spinning 

Spinning 

Spinning in a riptide

Sinking 

Sinking 

Sinking under the waves of words left unwritten 

Pockets filled with the sand of synonyms you sifted through too often. How much more pressure can you take as you plunged-

Deeper 

Deeper 

Deeper until you fall into the vast open ocean where the shadows dance in the sea, its marvelous, it's magnificent, it's a beautiful sight to see as your lungs fill with water, your eyes fluttering shut, the tips of your fingers touching the waves. You admire the ocean, wishing one day you could be like the sea, dancing with the shadows of your mind. 

You sigh, aggressively rubbing your eyes. Writers Block was a metaphor, but sometimes it felt like a reality, a literal cinder block resting in between the path where your heart meets your head, your hand coming up with nothing new, tired of typing the same words, the same sentences. Your vision began to blur, flickering over the work you spent hours creating. An odd sort of hatred spreads through your skin, boiling in the back of your brain. 

You feel like a kettle getting ready to… 

"Hello, my love," Chan whispers, wrapping muscular arms around your waist. He dusts his lips over your cheeks, brushing soft kisses across your skin.

Blow 

"I hate it." You shout, chucking your pen. at the wall. Chan's heart jumps against your back as he flinches.

"W-What baby? What did I do?" The panic in his voice makes guilt rush through you immediately, quickly turning around to comfort him.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, lazily locking your hands behind his back, embracing him in a tired hug, hopefully strong enough to wipe that kicked puppy dog look off his face. You nuzzle your nose into the hard planes of his chest, hoping you would just melt into him, meld your bodies together, never having to face life again.

"You didn't do anything." You whimper, digging your face deeper into his skin, wishing the world would just wash away, drip down the walls like the ink that's running down your paper, wiping away all traces of the terrible writing that plages the poor dead tree that gave his life for that pile of flaming crap you wrote.

You were suffocating. 

Suffocating in feelings you couldn't articulate, emotions you couldn't convey. You were a poet.

A poet who was drowning under words left unsaid. 

“I hate everything right now, Channie." You sniffled, tears rushing to your lash line. "Everything I write sucks! Everything!" You dig your face deeper into his chest, he squeezes you tighter, rubbing reassuring circles on your back. You sob, almost having the urge to lean your face over the page to collect your tears that are laced with the emotions you are supposed to be writing but instead are crying out into your boyfriend's chest. You stay like that for what feels like forever, sobs spilling over the silence that cloaks the room, your knees ache from staying in the same position for so long, holding onto him like he was a balloon and if you let go he was going to float away. Still, he never once scoffed, never once rolled his eyes, never once showed any sign that he was annoyed, bothered by your endless crying, even when his shirt was soaked, even when it felt like your sobs would never stop. 

He stayed. 

He always stayed. 

Moments like these make you believe in the type of love you write. 

Moments like these make love look like art. 

You've spent so many days creating art out of letters, beauty out of words, and yet you could spend a million years searching for the proper terms to describe the love he filled you with, but no matter how hard you try, you will always be so grossly inept. The English language seems so flimsy.

So shallow. 

So empty. 

So you place your ear to the cavern where his heart is kept and listen to the vibrations his body is sending you instead. You sigh contently, nuzzling your face into his shirt, your sobs long forgotten, now nothing more than sniffles that rack your spine as you hiccup—a terrible feeling—crying for so long just for the echos of your sorrow to come out through your lungs, contracting in painful hiccups.

(Cookies interruptions: please tell you know what im talking about I hate crying for so long and your lungs keep like dying in a weird form of a hiccup because you've literally been crying for so long 🙄)

He chuckles, the sound echoing through his ribs as he peers down at you with soft eyes, amusement dancing on his face. You scrunch your eyebrows, partly confused and partly offended that he's laughing at you. 

“What?” you ask, reeling your head back from the comfort of his chest.

“Are you going to share?” he smirks, eyes flickering down to your hands. Heat crawls up your neck as you glance down your hands, which were indeed, kneading his chest like a cat making buiscuts. You cringe, suddenly fairly embarrassed, at the way you were acting like a pathetic pet desperately needing attention. You pull your hands away from his chest slowly, looking him dead in the eyes, cheeks hot, face blank. 

“You know I don't like sharing my food, Channie, especially my biscuits.” He grabs you by the arms, pulling you back into him. Throwing his head back in laughter, you snort, cuddling closer to him. Your cheek smooshed into his shirt.

“You know cats only knead people when they feel safe” You whisper, he stops laughing, he stops breathing, he stops moving those sweet circles down your back; you freeze, suddenly more bashful than before.

“You feel safe with me?” He breathes, his eyes warm, swirling with a mix of pride and surprise. You nod hesitantly; you've never seen anybody look at you like this, like you're the source of all their joy. His forehead crinkles in a gentle sort of appreciation. Glad that sharing even the most vulnerable parts of yourself with him.  He smiles, a toothy gummy action, tilting his head to the side before shoving your face back into his body. “It’s all I've ever wanted.” Your heart fills with an unfathomable feeling of pure unadulterated warmth, you can't help but grin.

“Do you wanna talk to me about what happened today, pretty?” He whispers, his lips hovering over your head, before ghosting a kiss on your hair.

“I don't know channie,” You tilt your head back, lifting your eyes to meet his. “I-I just hate everything I write right now. I try so hard to create something, anything, but the words just never come to me, so I’m sitting here writing junk, a bunch of useless rambles with the same fucking words over and over, cause it feels like my vocabulary diminishes to the range of about 10 words as soon as I pick up a pencil, and today I was just writing.” You scoff, annoyance at your own stupidity filling your veins. “Or the pathetic attempt to do so, and I got so mad c-cause it just felt like everything I wrote j-just...” You taper off, averting your eyes from his, shame flickering in the back of your brain. “Sucked,” You whisper, looking down at your fiddling fingers. 

You remember the first time you ever showed him a piece of your work, studying his facial expressions like an FBI agent doing an interrogation. Swarms of anxiety-flavored butterflies were fluttering in your stomach as you watched his jaw drop. You stared at him nervously, expectingly, a face waiting for failure, for him to nod awkwardly, handing you back your computer, not quite meeting your eyes before reluctantly telling you it was great. It was what you expected from such a brilliant, talented man like him; it baffled you the way he could play with words, teasing them on his tongue like smooth honey dripping from his lips. The feeling compared to a composer handing their piece to Mozart, waiting for his reply, but instead of the fleeting look of disgust that you expected, his jaw dropped almost comically, staring at you with wide eyes. You had chuckled anxiously, gripping your knees, studying his every move, hoping to gauge his reaction. You bit your lip to hold the grin that arouse when his face quickly compared to that of a cartoon character. 

“Baby,” he had beamed playfully. “You wrote this.”

“Yes,” you chuckled.

“Oh my gosh, I'm dating a genius." He stared out into space, like he was pondering some deep philosophical thought. "Who would have known such a big brain was hidden in such a beautiful body? Damn baby, your a catch," he smirked as he set your computer down to pick you up bridal style. You don't think you've ever smiled so big before in your life. 

He was always your biggest cheerleader, so why were you so ashamed to tell him you thought your writing sucked? 

But most of all, why were you scared that maybe he might agree? 

“Baby,” he leaned down to get on your level, face full of sympathy. Your bottom lip trembled as you averted your eyes. Sympathy was exactly what you needed, so why does it seem to make the wound burn more? You feel so wholly pathetic as you stare at the floor, words welling up in your chest, but you don't know which way to express them. You were so used to pouring your emotions through a pen, communicating seemed impossible. 

"You don't have-" he starts, but you interrupt him. You just can't wait for the words to marinate in your mind. Sometimes you forget you had a boyfriend who cared about you, somebody you could always count on to listen to you, so even though it's hard, even though it's scary, you take a leap of faith, knowing he'd catch you every time.  

“I-I just… Poetry is the language of the soul, Chan. It's everything to me. I speak it, breathe it, write it, love it. You don't understand how amazing it is to take such an ugly emotion and twist it into something so beautiful, like a rose sprouting from muddy, murky ground. It's just...” You stare at the floor, softly kicking your toe to the carpet, a nervous reaction to the burn of his eyes scraping across your being, studying you, judging you. You know he's not, not really, but you felt naked under his gaze, strangely vulnerable. He hooks his finger under your chin, tilting your face up. Your met with welcoming eyes and an impressed expression.

“Go on,” he encourages. “Just what?” 

You stare at him reluctantly, not liking the gross feeling you get when you share your feelings, but his smile surrounds you in security, quickly loosening your lips.

“That's what hurts the most about it, though it's apart of you, and when you look at your work and all you see in the muddy, murky ground, what does that say about you? These words are coming from your soul, and sometimes it feels like they're all just lost in translation.” You whisper, blinking away tears that swell in your eyes, shyly shuffling.

“I do understand,” he says, “I understand completely, feeling like you have to transcibe your soul, and to my listeners, your readers, you wonder if what you said got lost in translation. It's scary, it's exhausting, but you know what it also is? It's beautiful and rewarding. It's amazing being able to share such intimate pieces of yourself with the world, but it's normal to feel like you suck at what you do. That's the only way you can grow.” He leans down to kiss the tips of your nose; your eyelids flutter shut as a smile dusts on your face. “How do you think you would have grown into the amazing author you are now if you looked at the short stories you wrote when you were little and thought, Wow, this is exactly how far I want to progress.” You giggle, thinking about how horrible your writing was when you were so young. You fold your arms in front of your chest, scrounging up the best sassy face you can—popping your hip out.

“I'll have you know, sir, my 9-year-old fanfictions about Harry Styles goated.” You jest biting your lip to contain your smile, he groans, scrunching his nose up in faux disgust. “Ew Y/N, please never say goated again.”  

You glare at him playfully. “I hate you, you know." He smiles softly, but it carries weight—warmth. The previous humor washed away like rain rushing down a child's picture made of chalk. He cups your cheeks in warm hands, eyes swirling with sincerity.

“But I love you, and I can assure you, you are the most amazing writer I know, Y/N L/N. You are brilliant, you are beautiful, you can turn even some of the most ugly emotions into the most stunning writing I've ever heard. You amaze me.” He states it like he's stating the sky is blue, like it's such a well known fact that anybody who would dare to disagree is just plain stupid. 

That's certainly not what you expected.

Your bottom lip trembles as you attempt to smile. His words sound like cotton candy in your ears, but even candy floss melts when met with water, and right about now you were drowning. 

"I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do when I feel like I can't write. I want to write so badly, but everything I say is so stupid!” You gurgle, he thinks for a minute, pulling his bottom lip into his teeth before beaming, a lightbulb practically shining above his head.

 "You know what you do when you can't write?" 

“What?” you sniffle, blinking aggressively trying to dry your eyes. 

“You just do it. You just write.”  

“What?” You state, staring at him like he's the biggest dummy in the world.

“You just write.”

“Wow, how couldn't I have thought of that one?” You roll your eyes. He ignores your sass, placing a hand on the small of your back, leading you to your writing chair. He pulls it out for you, which you reluctantly sit in, not really wanting to go through this whole exercise, especially when your brain short circuits staring at your paper, filled with faded sentences you really don't want to face. He scoots your chair back, holding on to the back of the wood. 

"Become brainless,” he says, leaning his face into yours, cheeks practically touching. “Like you're not even in you're body, immerse yourself in the characters, play them, become them. Be them. Let their characteristics cover you. Don't let it be what you are going to say; let it be what they are going to say.”

“Where’d you learn this?” You ask, confused about why hes speaking like hes the author. You had asked what he did when the words weren't wording, but he's talking like he creates characters and not lyrics—not that you're complaining, of course. 

"I had a feeling something like this was going to come up with your... author-a-try?" He stops, contemplating if that was a word—it isn't, by the way—realizes he doesn't care and continues, "So I did some studying on it," he says, like it was something every boyfriend did, like it was the bare minimum. The depth of his kindness truly baffles you sometimes. 

When you are with Chan, you realize how feeble the English language really is. You could study every word in every dialect for the rest of your life and never once find a term great enough to suit the emotions that consume you when you're with him. You know you don't deserve him, but you will spend the rest of your life trying.

“Just write. You can worry about all of the rest later, baby. Don't even think about how others will perceive you. Don't even think about your word choice or your punctuation. You take that pencil, and you let your heart do the talking for you.”

 Even though sometimes your words got lost in translation on the path from your heart to your head, it was a comforting thought to know you'd never have to worry about that with Chan, for your souls spoke the same language. You peered up at him, his eyes reminding you of spills of stars that swam in a chocolate galaxy. He looks down at the paper encouragingly, gesturing for you to start, so you do.

You pick up the pencil and let your heart bleed

Poetry was the language of the soul, but sometimes it felt like your words were lost in translation, living in a constant state of lethologica.

©CookieCreates (posted: June, 16th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately.