#mostly just because I wanted to draw the ocean

[vetchtibbles]

wolf 359 episode 41: memoria

[bronzewool]

Spontaneously ordered a stylus for my forgotten iPad so I can actually learn how to draw digitally and design my own OCs without having to save up and drop money on commissions every couple of months. And yet, as I'm waiting for my Amazon order I find myself more interested in researching how to draw landscapes because I never found an artist who offered backgrounds as part of their commission posts and I really want to show my mutuals what Aquarius looks like.

...

...

...

And draw Sephiroth smut

[rainbow-sparks]

I saw Jay's playthrough of Sally Face today and it made me remember how much I love this game, so I drew Sal :))!!

[yagurlhere]

WARNING:WEIRD/DISGUSTING IMPLICATIONS/THEMES

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Asshole Instructor

Luke Castellan x Jackson!Reader

Request: luke x jackson!reader angst to fluff like he likes reader but bullies her and like one day she almost dies and then he feels so guilty and confesses

Summary: Luke has been an asshole but he can't help it until he realizes the girl he likes could be gone any minute

Warning: Angst, bullying, Luke acting like a five year old, monsters, injuries

Word Count: 1.5K

Masterlist

A/N I tweaked your request a bit so the story flows more imo

“Faster,” I yelled at one of our newest campers. Y/N Jackson dropped her sword and ripped off her helmet, looking at me with fury in her eyes. I was a little afraid but mostly really attracted to her like this.

“Don’t fu-”

“Hey, we don’t curse,” I reminded her of the camp rules. “What with all the kids around.” Seeing her become even angrier made it so hard not to laugh. I was just glad that we weren’t near any bodies of water. When I had told her that her 12 year old brother was a better fighter than her at dinner, every glass of water rose up in the air she was so mad.

She just threw the sword down and stormed off. “Hey!” I yelled after her. “You’re not dismissed.” But she ignored me, continuing to storm off towards the beach. I felt a pang of guilt antagonizing her to the point that she left but I figured I shouldn’t chase after her if she was going to be around water. Plus, it was funny to see her get so mad.

I turned around the clean up the arena only to see Annabeth standing there looking unimpressed. “Why are you being so mean to her?” she asked.

“I’m not, I'm just messing around.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you’re antagonizing her. And I think I know why,” she smirked.

“Why?” I asked, deciding to humor her.

“Because you looove her,” she replied smugly, drawing out ‘love.’

“I do not,” I immediately defended. I cringed as my response was too fast. She only gave me a satisfied smirk. “Fine, okay. She’s pretty, I’ll give you that.” Annabeth just raised her eyebrow. “And smart,” I admitted. She kept looking at me. “And nice.” More looks. “Fine! Whenever I see her I want to kiss her and never let her out of my sight.”

A smile broke out on her face, finally satisfied. “See? Now go tell her that. Well- maybe not that exactly. You’ll probably scare her off. But tell her how you feel instead of harassing her and making her hate you.”

My heart stopped. “She hates me?”

“Probably!” Annabeth said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Or at least she will if you keep treating her so terribly.”

“Fine, I’ll apologize to her after dinner,” I sighed.

“No! Now,” she demanded.

“But she’s at the beach. She’ll kill me!”

“I don’t care. Go,” she said, pointing down the beach. “And take this to her.”

I grumbled, grabbing her helmet from Annabeth before heading after the daughter of Poseidon. When I finally found her she was sitting near a cluster of rocks, clearly trying not to be noticed by anyone. But as I prepared to tell her how I felt but as I looked at her, I thought about all the horrible ways she could reject me. And then humiliate me by telling everyone in camp about it. So instead I threw the helmet at her.

It bounced off the rock with a clang, clearly startling her. “What? Are you gonna cry because I told you, you sucked. What are you 5?”

“Go away, Luke,” she yelled. I once again felt a pang in my chest as I heard the trembling in her voice. Whether from rage or tears I wasn’t quite sure. But picturing her laughing in my face as she rejected me made me keep going.

“I see why your dad went back to your mom. He couldn’t have his only demigod child in decades be so weak like you.”

“I said go away!” she yelled, standing up. Her eyes were practically on fire as she looked at me with a burning glare. The ocean was getting choppier behind her before it lunged up into a huge wave, soaking me to the bone. I coughed when it finally receded and she was left there, standing dry. “Leave me alone or I’ll stuff you in a sewer pipe,” she threatened, walking off.

~

When I told Annabeth what happened she threatened to stuff me in a sewer pipe. But other than that she let it go and I hadn’t seen much of Y/N. Which hurt at times because I missed seeing her and I thought about her all the time but I honestly deserved that threat she gave me so I respected her wishes.

That was until I heard a scream and then a boy’s desperate yell. I was in the arena when I heard it and didn’t hesitate running towards the sound. There I found Percy and his sister at the edge of the forest. Percy was frantically pushing on his sister’s bleeding leg as she was getting visibly paler. He looked up, seeing me. “Do something!” he yelled.

I ran over, kneeling by her side. I could now see the wound clearly and it was deep. Deep enough to kill her from blood loss. She already had a puddle underneath her and I could see a trail coming from the woods. “Go get Chiron,” I told the boy. He nodded, getting up to sprint to the Big House.

I looked at Y/N’s face, surprised to see her still conscious. “Surprised you’re not cutting me further open,” she said through shallow breaths.

“Look, I’m sorry I’ve treated you like shit and I promise I’ll explain why when you’re better but I need you to focus on staying awake right now. Think you can do that?”

Despite the fact that my hands were keeping her from bleeding out she had the audacity to roll her eyes. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” I breathed. I felt ashamed realizing that was probably the first nice thing I had ever said to her.

Once some Apollo kids came and took her the Big House I went with them. But once they had her in the sickroom and everyone else was kicked out, I became wracked with guilt and worry. I made her life miserable. Why? Because I was afraid of my own feelings for her? I realized just how ridiculous that was. And I realized how little time I may have to actually confess my feelings.

“What happened, Percy?” Chiron’s words interrupted my thoughts.

“We were in the forest just trying to get some monster fighting experience when this big… dog—I think it was a hellhound—jumped at me out of nowhere. I guess she saw it first because she pushed me out of the way but its claws caught her leg,” Percy explained. “Is she going to be alright?” he asked, tears in his wide eyes.

“Yes, she should be fine,” Chiron assured the boy before sending a reassuring look to me too. Did everyone know I liked her? I briefly cursed Annabeth, she probably told him.

But soon enough Lee and Michael said we could go in so I followed Percy into the room. Her leg was wrapped in a pristine white bandage and the sheets must have been changed because they were also white in contrast to her bloody shirt and shorts.

“Percy, why don’t you go get her some clothes for when she wakes up?” I suggested. He looked reluctant but went anyway so I could talk to her. I took a seat by her head, observing her peaceful, beautiful face. “I don’t know if you can hear me but… at least you can’t reject me like this,” I said, letting out an empty chuckle. “But um I guess I'm fulfilling my promise. The reason I’ve been such an asshole to you is because… well… I think I’m in love with you. And I was afraid of my feelings and that you’d reject me so I took it out on you and I’m sorry for that. You didn’t deserve that.”

I sat there for a beat of silence, unsure what to do. But just before I stood up and left, I felt her fingers brush against mine. “Took you long enough to confess, jerk,” she said. I looked back at her, finding the slightest smile and her gorgeous eyes.

“So… you like me too?” I asked, my heart pounding with insecurity.

“Yeah, of course I do,” she admitted. I smiled, leaning down to press my lips to hers. When I pulled away to breathe she took the opportunity to speak. “If you tell anyone I’ll stuff you in a sewer pipe.”

“Sure you will,” I taunted her, connecting our lips again. This time I only pulled away when I heard a slightly squeaky voice.

“What are you doing with my sister?”

Masterlist

[reachartwork]

the process

a lot of people like to ask me about my process and how ai can be "creative" because they're under the impression that it's just kind of a big slot machine. you pull a lever and art uncontrollably comes out. well, let me show you my process

this is going to be a long thread tagged with #long post, blacklist that if you want to skip it.

so how it starts like most art is that i have an idea. in this case, earlier i made a post about witch-knights "surfing" on swords, so i'm going to try and make that - a witch-knight flying through the air atop one of her swords.

it starts with this picture.

i think this picture is dogshit so i discard basically all of it to try and find something closer to my original intent. there's a couple of uninteresting regenerations so it's clear i have to go back to the drawing board and teach the machine what it is i'm trying to do

let's start with a witch-knight on a broom. it's definitely not great but it gives us a better pose that i can work with.

i start by erasing the broom and replacing it with a skateboard - the machine understands skating better for what i need it to do.

there's a ton of small, subtle errors in this image and it overall looks like dogshit but the most important part right now is blocking and the overall pose structure - i need her "surfing" a large, lengthwise object, in the sky. i start by erasing pieces of the skateboard

now we have a sword, which is good. but the sword itself looks... bad. i'll spare you the abortive attempts at selective regeneration of the sword and just show you what happened when i rolled it back a couple of times from this pose and let it regen entirely.

again, tons of small little shitty errors, but this is something i can work with. i do another regen for a less shitty sword. her boob armor gets replaced with, like, generic scale mail.

this image has a great sword and decent pose but like... everything else is kind of futzy and i dont like it. instead of trying to pick and choose i just throw it back into the oven for a second. much better! but now she's going to cut herself on the sword, oh no!

again, i'll save you the agonizing thirty minutes of trying to get it to understand where the foot should go. unlike before i didn't really have a choice except to muscle through. there! now she's surfing safely :)

so it's done, right? well, i mean, i could post this. and it would probably do okay. but *i'm* not satisfied with it. there's stiffness. dozens of minor errors. the eyes look weird when you zoom in. let's start by fixing her hat, and then maybe her hands?

but she's missing fingers on her left hand so let's go ahead and fix that too. and i don't really like the tip of her sword and the ocean looks really flat and boring. so, VERY CAREFULLY, i have to etch out the parts of the sword and her body i have to keep, and also write an entirely new prompt to tell it "i want an ocean w/ rolling waves please :)"

this is better but not great. i try again - serendipitously, it makes this really cool variant with a shadow over the water, but i know working with that will take more wrangling so i'm considering it an evolutionary dead end and discarding it for now.

i proceed to spend 30 minutes trying to make the ocean look better but it's really not working imo. i'm gonna go back to the shadow version and see how that works

i'll spare you the other 8 minutes - i'm satisfied with the following picture. the sword isn't *perfectly* straight, her eyes aren't perfectly textured, the scale mail is... weird, in texture, but anything else would be greasing the wheel and i think beyond the machine's ability to do fine detail.

i've also attached the starting picture for comparison - it has better, "higher quality" clouds and ocean but i personally cared more about the pose and the sword surfing - the background is mostly tangential. could i get back ocean and clouds of that quality with another two hours of painstakingly cutting and re-generating bits of the background without destroying any of my existing work on the pose? probably. but i don't want to.

total time spent on this piece from start to finish was one hour and twenty one minutes. and now you know!

[alwaysoutofpaper]

the livestock of haek (top) and haen'oi (bottom), found in and around the landmass/island of Tunib'sau

wanted to draw up some creatures because I haven't created much hae planet fauna. ramblings below the cut, but it's a lot. all you really need to know is all of these animals can be eaten :)

uli'ni are highly social, omnivorous pack hunters (or ambush predators in small numbers), used for pest control by haek. a village can have a near 1:3 ratio of uli'ni to haek, with the pack usually belonging to a single family, or being cared for communally in some cases. bright, soft coats are sought after by haek wanting a pet. there has been a trend of uli'ni being imported into the city as an exotic pet - mainland uli'ni are a lot nastier.

tade are like truffle pigs. they can sniff out root plants from under dirt and snow, so they are critical for farmers when poor weather conditions would normally make harvests miserable. they are usually eaten along with the plants they help harvest. their "wool" is used for bed, bedding, clothes, and other textile things that are otherwise difficult to create with limited fibers. most shed their coats seasonally, but a mainland variety is bred to grow them continuously like sheep.

rudon are the fastest growing, hardest to handle source of protein a haek could ask for. they burrow under the snow, and further into the ground when it isn't covered. raising them is more difficult than hunting them in the wild, but some haek still try, creating stone-lined pits they will fill with dirt to keep rudon contained. they can wreak havoc on any plantlife if left unchecked, so they are rarely raised in the same village as a root plant farm. their fatty tails are used for tallow, which can be sold at high prices or traded for goods if transportation is possible and a surplus is available.

ta'fer is essentially a much meaner lobster. they can pinch, bite, and smack someone around with their tail. they are aggressive to anything that isn't a ta'fer, and evasive when they feel threatened, which makes them difficult to handle without immense caution. the meat is worth it to most haen'oi, though, and just the act of raising them garners a whole lot of respect.

bibbits are some of the most abundant fish (calling them that cus they look like that) in the oceans, found all over the world with different variations. the bibbits found around Tunib'sau are very boney, but those bones are soft and thin, not removed unless necessary (like for baby haek, it could be a choking hazard - baby haen-oi don't have this problem). bibbits are usually smoked and eaten whole for haek, or eaten raw in the water by haen-oi. they are very flavorful, but don't keep well.

le'bul, or the "walking jewel", is a six-limbed nautilus-like critter. they have tentacle-lined arms like octopus, but lack the chromatophores of the same species. they instead rely on their shells for defense and camouflage, evolved to mimic different types of coral, depending on the region they're in. the le'bul shown above grows a shell resembling coral found almost exclusively in underwater caves. tracking them down is a difficult task, but they can be lured out with bibbits, so actually catching them is pretty simple. their shells are often used as decoration or storage depending mostly on the condition of it after the rest of the body is removed.

lastly, corin is basically just a really big tilapia. high in protein, low in fat. their meat is white and not the most flavorful, but it keeps well and their bones are good for making broth. there are much better, tastier fish out there, but these are the easiest for haen'oi to herd, hunt and trade, so it is the most popular option. they're the closest thing to a domestic fish you can get in those waters. some even let you pet them :)

[yandere-sins]

The Orcas' Tale - Lyr's Story I

And here he is, our sweetest, craziest, loveliest boy ♥ Honestly, it was fun giving Lyr a bit more personality than he had in the original story, and I am also glad to have provided him with a cute little darling of his own. I hope you guys enjoy slipping into the role of a mermaid, and ehem look forward to a different kind of spice (;

Fandom: Original Content   Pairings: Yandere!Orca Merman x GN!AFAB!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Non-Con Kissing/Touching/Fingering, Bondage kind of), Violence (Threats to kill/harmm reader, Sharp teeth/claws, Almost tearing off reader's jaw), Monsters/Non-Human reader, Animalistic behavior, Mention of blood/claws/sharp teeth, Hinting at death/non-con, Feeding the reader seal meat, Being caught in a net, Long post

"They just won't stop bugging! Like, I get it, Mom, bringing a human into the pod was stupid and dangerous, but it's not our fault that Nerrocan left!"

Heaving a deep sigh, Lyr looked up at the water's surface through the holes in the ceiling of the cove he had found. Light was shimmering into the mostly calm water, a few tiny fish slipping in and out of the cave-like structure while he rested on his back, ignoring any wildlife of the ocean as he had no interest in small fry. They didn't get close enough to be caught, wary of the superior predators of the sea, who, unbeknownst to anyone's eyes, looked more like friends hanging out than what they really were—captor and captive.

Despite his annoyance and loud complaining, he looked tired. You had witnessed many a mood of his ever since he decided to hide you away for his own enjoyment, but as of late, every time Lyr visited you, he looked more exhausted than the last. As usual, his eyes were dull, and his dorsal fin collapsed. For an orca in his best years, he looked like he'd been dragged through the blue hell, but it invoked no sympathy inside you. All you could do was listen and observe, but knowing he was the merman responsible for your misery, you felt no pity for your clearly mentally unstable captor. Reaching to his left, Lyr picked another piece of meat from the seal carcass he had hunted, slipping the food into his mouth before continuing his rant.

"Who'd have known that guy had it in him. Can't help but respect him getting the fuck out of the pod, and I'm glad I don't have to see his wannabe goody two-fin face anymore. It's been getting harder to put him in his place with how aggressive he suddenly got."

"Won't they miss him?"

Lyr stopped chewing, his head falling to the side, facing you. Muddy purple eyes sprang to life, reflecting the light as brilliant as rare corals. With one big gulp, he devoured what had been left of his meal, a toothy grin spreading over his lips. "Look who decided to talk! Who's gonna miss him? His mommy? Sure. It's not like she has a dozen more just like him."

For a moment, you held his stare, watched the grin stretch wider, and twisted his expression into a grimace before you lowered your eyes, settling on drawing swirls into the sand. It wasn't like you wanted to have a conversation with him, but listening day in and day out to his crazy rambles and complaints was just as bovine as engaging with the madman. 

"That's not very nice. I'm sure his mom loves them all equally. You've got a big family, after all."

"Nah," he retorted, shaking his head. Picking out a bone from the seal's body, he used it as a toothpick, cleaning out the sharp-edged teeth he loved flashing you. "Orcas aren't like yours. We don't love each other just because we share the same blood or come from the same mother. Either you're useful to the pod and do what you're told, or you're at the very bottom of the food chain. I could never be the same as Krill, no matter how hard I tried. He was always Mom's favorite, so now I just don't try anymore. It doesn't even matter to them where I am, but it suits me. Now I got a lot more time to spend with ya!"

Now it was your time to grimace while Lyr flopped onto his side and closer to you, surely noticing the tension growing in your body as you felt appalled by the ever-closing distance. He tossed the bone carelessly into the water while your movements abruptly stopped. You wished it was as easy as the flap of your fin to get away from him, but you were rendered helpless to his touch, unable to get away from his pointed finger dragging over your forearm, his claw teasing your softer skin. He didn't just have the advantage of size, but you knew that no matter how haggard he might appear, you'd be no match against him in a scuffle. Much less now that you were trapped.

And your growling stomach wasn't helping.

While you let out an exasperated groan, Lyr laughed loudly about your misery, finding your dependency on him to not starve hilarious. As much as you despised being at his mercy, you had no choice but to humor him if you wanted to survive, even when he enjoyed your reluctant behavior so much that he held his stomach aching from laughter. 

"You could have just told me you're hungry!" he teased, grinning from ear to ear at you while you gave him an ashamed glare, staying silent as a stone in your spot, belly-down in the sand. "I don't mind sharing, ya know? There's still so much of this yummy seal left, it would be a shame to give it to the fish. You know what you gotta do to earn it, right?"

Gritting your teeth, you watched the smugness wash over his expression as he sent you into yet another predicament. You even considered eating a heap of sand instead of bowing to his will. As if being trapped wasn't enough, he just had to exploit you at every chance he got, and you hated how easily your survival instinct made these reckless decisions for you, which he'd never let you live down. The hole in your stomach didn't get any smaller. Lyr's last visit had been a few days already, and you were in no condition to hunt efficiently for yourself. So aside from small, stupid fish that came too close to you, you hadn't eaten outside of his visits, and it was starting to show. 

You knew what you had to do. Unfortunately.

No matter how much your brain screamed at you not to, your body knew it instinctively, propping itself onto your forearms while you sighed inwardly, feeling defeated by your needs. Moving was the hardest part about being caught in a net. It was an unusual heavy net with clunky weights that had slung around your fin and lower body, dragging you to the ground where Lyr had found you. Even he had been surprised by the sturdiness of this net when he first inspected it but quickly had taken advantage of the situation, dragging you to this much more hidden place and out of plain sight so he had you all to himself. At least he didn't kill you; that's what you told yourself. But death was more merciful than Lyr, that much you knew by now. 

He had no problem being patient when it meant watching you struggle as you dragged yourself toward him. Lyr didn't even mind you digging your meager claws into his skin when you grabbed onto him, using his body to support yourself while you lifted off the ground, close enough to feel his watery breath ghost against your face. Placing your lips over his, you flinched away in reluctance before forcing yourself to keep going, counting to three this time before twisting your head to the side. 

Lyr hummed, sounding dissatisfied as you felt his hand brush up your spine. Nesting his palm at the nape of your neck, you refused to look forward again until he twisted his own head to find your lips, his much sharper, much more dangerous claws only curling into place the second he got what he wanted. Now, with an appreciative chortle, he relished in stealing another kiss, tongue swiping over your pursed lips until he found a hole in your defense, worming into your mouth. 

You were no stranger when it came to mating habits, but compared to your fellow dolphins, Lyr was surprisingly gentle. He relished in your defiance but seemed to enjoy enticing little moans and gasps from you just as much. His tongue was a choking hazard in a mouth that wasn't fit to house it. Though you had gills, you could barely concentrate on breathing while you fought against him as best as you could. Still, he took his sweet time exploring every inch, letting air flow out of his mouth and into yours, never not considering you while doing what he wanted. He even softened his hold on you, rubbing his palms down your back in a spine-tingling motion when you stopped struggling against him. It was almost like he was rewarding you for good behavior, and it was sickeningly pleasurable.

But the taste of flesh and blood lingering on his tongue made your stomach growl, your body eagerly moving towards him, hoping to find food. All you gained was a chuckle before he nicked your lower lip with his sharp teeth in warning. Your fangs probably wouldn't be able to bite through his thick tongue, but despite this weird obsession he had with you, he was almost more wary of you than you of him. It seemed like he could never cut himself loose completely despite having nothing to fear from an easy target like you. He seemed so relaxed and unbothered whenever he visited you, but it was almost as if he was plagued by invisible ghosts whispering into his ears. 

Despite his warning, you found his arms wrapping around your body, pulling you on top of him before you two rolled over to the other side, Lyr resting you gently down in the sand. He didn't care that the net that had trapped you to the ocean floor also got dragged over his tail, unbothered by possibly getting stuck like you were. Perhaps he simply didn't mind that thought as much as you did. To be fair, considering he was much stronger and the material had yet to wrap around and get stuck on his fins like it had with yours, it posed no threat to the orca. And yet, it was infuriating to you, who wanted nothing more than to swim away and reunite with your own kind. 

Propping his arm in the sand next to your head, he looked down at you with a satisfied smile and a mischievous spark in his eyes but reached over you, grabbing a piece of seal meat. He brought it up to your lips, dabbing it against them, though you refused to open for him. "I can feed myself just fine," you reminded him, wiggling your hands in the air to demonstrate your ability to hold things before trying to take the food from him.

"Now, don't be ungrateful, or I'll bring you a turtle shell to gnaw on next time."

You could feel your face contort in disgust at his suggestion, reluctantly parting your lips to nib at the food dangling in front of your face. Once you had a taste of meat, your body couldn't resist, gobbling up every last bite hungrily while Lyr kept providing it for you with a smile. If he wasn't fast enough, your teeth would drag over his fingers, but he wouldn't even flinch or scold you, his fin slapping against the sand instead, almost as if he enjoyed your nibbles. 

Seal wasn't your preferred food, but in times of food scarcity—like it has ever since getting holed up with Lyr—it was as good as any. The rest of the carcass was devoured faster than your excited stomach wanted, and you still didn't feel satisfied after eating every last piece. Had you been free, you'd have gone hunt for more without a moment of rest. But the gnawing hunger had subsided at least, and if Lyr came back again soon, you'd at least not have to endure it for too long until the next meal. 

Pausing your thoughts, you realized you had just longed for Lyr to provide for you again soon, immediately turning the hunger into nausea as you pondered on it. 

You were too quiet, too long for his taste as he sought out your lips again after your meal. Brushing his thumb over them, your instinct mistook his finger for more food. You could barely stop yourself from biting into his gnarly claw as the urge to eat won over again. However, your mouth was open long enough as realization dawned on you of what you were doing, for him to cup your face instead, turning it slightly to him so his tongue could lick over your lips and dip in again. Lyr hummed merrily as he tasted the seal on you, unashamed, unbothered by you struggling to keep him out, fingers wrapping around his throat—unsuccessful in deterring him. He was waiting for your breath to run out before taking the chance to deepen the kiss again, ever so patient with you. 

"I think I get it now," he mumbled, breaking the kiss before leaving some more superficial brushes of his lips against yours. "Nerrocan was onto something. We just didn't know it."

"Why didn't you go with him then?" you mumbled back, turning your face away to avoid any more unwanted affection, even if it meant resting it in his palm. 

To your surprise, Lyr scoffed loudly, and you flinched away as you could feel his mood shift. His palm didn't grow stiff and rigid. However, you still forced yourself away from it, too afraid he might—possibly on accident, but much more likely intentionally—rake his claws over your face, leaving wounds deep and painful. It was useless, however, as he used the same hand to collect your floating hair instead, forcing you to look at him while his gaze drilled into you with fury swirling in his eyes. 

"Listen, I might not remember how we got to that place, but I know all the shit they did to us!" 

You whimpered as he pulled your hair back, your neck struggling to keep up with his demands from your position. Lyr took a sharp breath, pausing the angry flashing of his fangs as he watched you cowering in front of him, ever so slightly calming down at the sight of fear flashing in your eyes. You hated him when he mocked you and also when he was delighted in your suffering. But you hated his anger more, his haggard body still crushing and his fangs and claws sharp despite whatever he went through. One bite into your throat, and you were a goner, especially with how exposed the soft flesh was to him now.

"I'll never go back there! Never! They cut us open, prod inside us with their disgusting hands, and inject strange fluids into me! They… They changed us. Changed me. And now I don't even know–"

His hand was trembling in your hair as he let out a shuddering breath. You caught his eyes for only a split second, watching the brilliant purple turn into mushy darkness. Lyr shook his head as if confused while his voice trailed off, his free hand rising as he hid his face from you for a moment. You weren't sure if you were supposed to say anything, and even if, what could you say to that? You had no idea what he's been through, and even though you had your fair share of struggles in your life, you never experienced something quite as dramatic as he described. Then again, why would you try to comfort him? Lyr was perfectly able to help you in your time of need but had refused cutting the net for you again and again. Why would you give him kindness if he refused to do the same for you?

Being free of his attention, your eyes fell lower on his body. Just shy of where your tail rested over his. With his tail flipped over, you had a clear view of his collapsed dorsal fin, a pitiful sight for any creature like you. It made you think that something was wrong with him in the first place, as this was an unusual sight on any of your kinds. If what he said was true, maybe this experience had done this to him, understandably so, as it sounded awful. You couldn't bring yourself not to pity him despite your negative feelings towards him. 

Next to you, Lyr took a deep breath, pushing his short hair out of his face before he searched for your gaze. Desperately. Needy. Somewhere to ground him. You weren't sure what you saw in the darkened violet, but his features looked drained of vitality, as if the moment of silence had exhausted him completely. It made him look… vulnerable. But then he smiled again, his eyes lit up, and the strange feelings swirling in his irises were covered by excitement as he found yours, soaking in the sight before him.

"I really do get it now," he admitted, grin parting his lips, revealing his protruding upper left fang, the sharpest of them all. "I was so confused about the strange looks Nerrocan gave the human, but I realize I've been the same with ya—whatever it means. I keep coming back here just to see you. I want to stay right here with you, forever. Just us two. I'll hunt for us and make this cave pretty. Whatcha think, lil' dolphin?" 

"N-No, I don't think that will work," you mumbled, averting your eyes again as his gaze became too intense to keep up the eye contact. He seemed to drill into you as if to excavate your soul and lay it bare for him to tease and enjoy. You didn't like it one bit when he looked at you so intensely. 

You could tell by now that he was working himself into another ramble, but you didn't like how much it focused around you. Usually, he was complaining about his situation in his pod and how much his mom hounded him with expectations. Lately, his rants focused more on the human and Nerrocan and the waves their arrival and disappearance caused in their family. But while he was always strange when it came to you, being the sole focus of his attention felt uncomfortable. 

"I'm not sure I understand, but my pod is probably searching for me, and I've been away for so long already. They probably miss me terribly! If- If only I could get the net off, I wouldn't have to bother you at all! I'd be gone before you know it, and you wouldn't have to look after me! I'd be fine! Maybe you can try cutting it again with your claws, or… or maybe--"

Lifting your torso from the ground, you grabbed the net at its highest point, tugging at it and trying to loosen it up. You realized it was you who was rambling this time, but the conversation had taken a turn that you didn't want to make reality at all cost. You couldn't imagine yourself being this guy's pretty little cave warmer for all eternity, preferring the roughness of your own kind over his madness. Orcas weren't known to be gentle housemakers, no matter how much Lyr tried to sell it to you. Not even when he handled you gently, yet never did what you wanted. 

However, you were surprised when he reached down to the net, yanking at it with you. A yelp escaped you as he pulled your tail over his, the net cutting into your flesh painfully as he twisted and pulled until you had to fold up your tail, getting more and more caught. Nets usually weren't as much of a problem to sirens, but this one was sturdier and heavier than any fishing net you had encountered in your long life. 

So when Lyr caught your hands in it, you began to panic. 

"Wait! I'm getting wrapped up in it! Please stop, this isn't helping!" Your plea was ignored as Lyr slung the grating material over your wrists a few more times, ignoring your thrashing and panic with the calm of someone who had all the time in the world. Who had nothing to fear, especially not you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to make him understand you wanted to get out of the net and not strung up in it more until he was done messing with you, flipping you over and pulling you close against him.

"That's not what I meant," you sobbed as he rested his head on top of yours, only cushioned by the arm he lent you as a headrest. 

"Isn't this so much better?" he asked, feigning innocence. But you couldn't believe his audacity to make you even more miserable. It was as if he wanted to make you as miserable as he was. "This way, you can't leave without my help. And I doubt your little pod will find you here."

"I just want to go home," you mumbled, anger slowly overtaking as the panic subsided. Your hands were bound tightly, your fin being the one hurting when you tried to lift them and vice versa. You felt truly trapped, and that made you angry rather than sad. It was strange, considering how, just a few minutes ago, you had almost pitied this male, but now, all you felt was rage.

"It's your home, now. Our home. We'll live here, unbothered by others. Just the two of us."

"It's not my home! Let me go!" you snapped, lips pulled back in a snarl. Dolphins were by far not the scariest predators, but your teeth were sharp and threatening as well! 

Or so you thought.

Lyr laughed at your display of a threat, seemingly amused that you were still fighting him. Without warning, he raised his hand to your face, squeezing both sides of your jaw until the pressure forced you to open it, and stuck his pointer and middle finger inside. He only needed these two to press your tongue down, your mouth wide agape with his claws scarily close to the back of your throat. You tried to close your jaw, bite down until he'd retract his hand, but Lyr didn't care. He didn't even mind your teeth digging into his flesh, leaving cute little cuts against his slick skin. 

"Careful, lil' dolphin. You're not in a position to make such scary demands of me, don't you know that already? I could kill ya." 

Unafraid of getting hurt, the pressure on your lower jaw increased, fingers purposely impaling themselves on your teeth while pain made you jolt as you felt your jaw dislodging slowly. You wiggled your trapped body, gurgling against his fingers before finally looking up at him as best as possible from your position, noticing the smug grin on his face. 

"I won't, of course."

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, dragging out the motion until the last moment, you coughed, the taste of his blood on your tongue. There was no time to recover as Lyr nuzzled his face into the side of yours, oblivious to the thrumming in your jaw as you tried to relax it while the blood flow resumed. 

"You're too much fun alive, so I won't kill you," he admitted, grabbing your hands that rested against your chest and pulling them down, elevating some of the strain on your tail, and you finally breathed out. "But if you want to get rid of the net, maybe we can find a way to make this even more fun?"

You felt his lips sink to your cheek, your jawline, then trailing down your neck. A kiss for every one of your gills. The water around you was gentle and warm, but at that moment, it was like jumping into the ice-cold ocean after sunbathing on the surface, shocking and shivering through every bone of yours. 

While the arm your head rested on wrapped around your collarbones, holding on to your shoulder, the other hand started to wander lower. His fingers played around with the net, cutting through some of the squares until he could stick his hand through it, placing his palm on your stomach before sinking it dangerously low and pulling your hands down with it. So you wouldn't be able to grasp his arm on top, trying to make him stop as Lyr nibbled on your earlobe, the protruding fang drawing blood that he licked up without hesitation.

"Stop that!" you complained as his touch grew uncomfortably intimate, the pain in your jaw reverberating as you spoke. It had long dawned on you what his definition of 'fun' was, but you weren't as naive as to believe he'd actually stick to his word and cut you loose after getting what he wanted. It was better not to risk it than risk it for nothing. Your kind wasn't known to be gentle to their chosen lovers, but you never thought about mating with an orca. It wasn't normal! Wasn't what you were made to do! And if you were to survive it… you didn't want to think of the carnage that all of him would leave behind on your body. 

If his size was any indication, you were sure you couldn't take him without getting absolutely ruined in the process—and not the pleasurable kind of destroyed. More the ripped apart and bleeding out type. 

His hand found your slit, fingertip brushing lightly yet incessantly over it, leaving a tingling trail in its wake. You whimpered, ashamedly so, but instead of the expected mockery, you felt his chest rumble, a purr reaching your ears. It was soothing, relaxing, his body warming you from behind even as you desperately tried to deny feeling anything from his touch. 

But Lyr wasn't stingy with his surprises.

A chirp so oddly familiar resounded behind you, yet you were sure you had never heard that voice before. It took you a moment of complete stillness to realize it had been Lyr making that sound, yet it wasn't orca. It was dolphin. "How did you…?" you gasped, ignoring his inquisitive fingers prodding at your entrance, begging to be let in without having to use force.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, lil' dolphin," he hummed, imitating some more whistles and clicks that were perfect and comforting, like the calls of your pod, yet were spoken by an uncanny voice. You felt the tears well up in our eyes again, as you couldn't help but gasp, following it with a moan, his finger slipping into you, teasing the soft, warm flesh awaiting him there. Lyr let out an appreciative sound that made your core clench with desire, all praise and all dolphin for letting him in. 

"You don't even like me," you gasped, hands wringing in the net. You were completely and utterly caught in this trap, and he had free range to your body while slowly gaining access to your very soul by imitating your own kind's calls of desire and adoration. Lyr's mouth pulled taut in a big grin as he felt you unwillingly relax and shudder in his arms, your tail buckling into his hand. You looked up to see the madness dance with satisfaction and need in his eyes before he leaned down to kiss you.

"That's where you're wrong, lil' dolphin," he chuckled, kissing you one more time, long and with relish, his fingers playing with you, adding one after the other as you loosened up to him, exploring the depths not meant for an orca.

"I like you very, very much."

[lillythecoolest]

hey!! hows ur day been? anyway,would u mind doing hcs for ocean,ricky and mischa (rtc) with a younger sibling reader? maybe,the younger sibling died in the rollercrash accident,with them,aswell.if you do my request,than tysm!!

Ocean, Ricky, and Mishca With Younger Sibling reader!

Warnings: Alcohol

And I’ve been lovely, thank you!

Ocean📙❤️

•She is SOSOSO relived to have you with her

•And also SOSOSO concerned at the same time

•Threatens to sue anyone who doesn’t vote for you to go back

•Even if you’re dead, she asks if you finished your homework before you died

•Also she’s all the backing vocals to your song. She will literally yap anyone’s ears off who tries to interfere

•She’s very protective over you, actually overprotective, yanking you away by the ear whenever Jane gets near you

•(Don’t worry, she still gets better by the end❤️)

Ricky🪐❤️

•Where do I start . . .

•Ricky was so happy when he first got to talk to you! He immediately ran over and hugged you when he saw you.

•He mostly stays around you the whole time, wanting to talk as much as he can knowing he doesn’t have much time with you.

•He makes Ocean take you to the back of the area and cover your ears for his whole song.

•He might not be an angel, but he wants you to remain one.

•But he might as well be an angel because he’s so sweet😭❤️

Mischa🎤❤️

•Oh lord.

•Ohhhh lord.

•(I’m guessing you’re not his blood sibling since he’s adopted)

•First thing he does? Offer you vodka. He thinks it’s a necessary staple before you die.

•Does NOT matter how young you are.

•But rather than keeping you away during his song, he makes you sing the chorus with him.

��But he does draw the line at watching him kiss Noel.

•But what I’m saying here doesn’t matter, he just wants you to have a madwickedawesome last day.❤️

tysm for the request!🩷

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Remember You

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: I’ve thought about it a little and I don’t think this adds anything to the story—it really just feels like a trashy filler episode.

word count: 4,173

-Part 14-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It’s not an unusual occurrence for you to open a book near dusk then pull out of your mental wandering after dark, frequently falling so deep into immersion, so consistently dragged under by lonely curiosity that time itself seems to slip through your soft, tender fingers. A shadow twirls a lock of hair about, a gentle approach so you know he’s there.

Even when his steps don’t subconsciously take on that soundless whisper, it was too often you’d startle at the sound of his voice, almost strangely so, spun around looking slightly flustered. Azriel had always assumed it a side effect of being stolen from your home all that time ago, being thrown about in the ocean of your life, only now beginning to settle back into relative calm.

You turn now, meeting his soft hazel eyes, shadowed by lovely lashes and defined by a strong brow. A mouth that appears so soft your heart aches at the faintly curved edges, appearing so warm and inviting. The steady certainty about the way he moves, so calmly assured of each step, unrushed but quietly determined, driven forward relentlessly by his unfaltering loyalty, the dedication to helping those under his brother’s rule.

A smile pulls your mouth apart, surely gleaming in your eyes, warming your cheeks as you meet his gaze. “What a surprise to see you here,” you say, closing the book silently, balancing the thick and heavy edge on your hip, the leather of its wrapping weighing comfortably into your waist. “Looking for something?”

He smiles, pushing off from the bookcase he’d been leaning against, dark hair flopping over his brow, as soft as silk and looking as warm as fur. How lovely it would be to run your fingers through, gently playing with it like how you would do when you were younger, sat before an open fire in a wobbly line, crafting intricate patterns with your sisters.

“I’ve found it now,” he replies, amusement written clearly across his features, more open than usual, your pulse increasing. His eyes drop away from yours, landing on the book at your hip, nodding to it with a faint smile. “What have you gotten your hands on this time?”

You reciprocate the expression with a little more enthusiasm, almost beaming as you shift the volume to present the cover to him. “It was tucked near the back here,” you explain, eyes darting to the shelf you’d been stood before. “It looked a little forgotten so I had to move some of the others around to get to it. It’s a book on botany, and the different plants that can be found throughout the courts. It’s amazing how such a range can be contained to such a small land mass given the shift in climates.”

His eyes twinkle, and your heart flutters in response, smile broadening a little. “Were there many books in your first home, or did your curiosity come from seeing your father’s study?” He asks, watching you calmly, gaze skating over the beautifully crafted cover of the book appreciatively. “There weren’t as many as there are here, but there were a few I could get my hands on,” you answer honestly. “Elain and I used to flip through the pages to look at the illustrations when we were younger, though they were mostly done in ink so only black and white. Sometimes when we found ones with colour in—there were some wonderful ones. I mean, really so full of colour and shimmery paints they really looked from another world—but we would fold the corners over at the top to show to Feyre later. Then sometimes they’d have diagrams with names underneath that we didn’t yet know how to pronounce, so would fold the corners over at the bottom to ask Nesta later since our mother wouldn’t want to be disturbed. Then later because she wasn’t there.” You come to a stop, lips drawing themselves into a thin line.

“Do you miss her?” He asks quietly, those shadows of his rolling like mist from his back, weighing to the floor to cover the boards in an inky black fog. “I…it’s complicated,” you answer, head dipping as you pull the volume back to your torso, as if it will act as a shield against the complex emotions you have no idea how to articulate. “You have plenty of time to figure it out—should you wish to,” he says gently, and you peer up at him, heart fluttering at the warmth in his eyes. The faint softening at the edges of his wonderful mouth.

You remember to respond, dipping your head in a subdued nod. Tongue swiping over your lips. “Is your…I mean, your mother…?” He blinks those lovely hazel eyes, so filled with swirling colour, and you inwardly cringe, seeing how he shifts to stand more upright, posture more rigid. That sweet curve of his mouth replaced by a polite smile, one he probably knows he should give to keep anyone from feeling bad. “Alive, yes,” he answers, his tone not inviting anymore questions, without being clipped.

Lips pursing into an awkward line, your gaze drops down to the book, to your feet, nodding in confirmation. “I…I’m happy for you,” you say quietly, hoping it’s the right thing and she isn’t a terrible woman. Female. That would be quite awful, if she turned out to be.

Azriel hums lowly, and your throat rolls, toes curling a bit in your shoes. You inhale, managing to look in his vague direction, “how was your day?” It comes out much more muted than you had intended, heat spreading throughout your features as you again dip your head, felled with embarrassment. A moment of silence passes, and you feel like you might crumble into a heap of sand, simply disintegrate right then and there.

But, “good,” he answers, chuckling lowly.

Peeking up nervously, you can make out the slight twinkle in his eyes, the relaxed softness to his mouth, and relief washes through you, crushing and sweeping in its intensity. “Training’s going well,” he continues unprompted, and you perk up more, shifting on your feet, attempting to straighten out your shoulders. “It’s becoming a nice, well-rounded group. Nesta seems to be doing well, too. They all are.”

You manage a smile, drinking in every word, basking in the richness of his voice, imbued with a tinge of royal blue emotion. “Sounds like you’re having fun,” you say, trying to match the mirth of his intonation, how genuine it sounds. You don’t really succeed. “Between the strain of practice and learning, I think they do,” he answers, still smiling faintly, and you pause to take a moment to try and capture what’s different about his features when he’s smiling. The curve beneath his eyes, how his cheeks round a little, the way his lips stretch out and curve. Something about his ears raising a little higher, too.

“Have you ever considered joining?” He asks tentatively, and you freeze up.

“Training?” You manage, forcing down the splutter, cowering at the thought. His features level out, but his eyes remain amused as he nods. “No. I don’t think… It’s not for me,” you stumble through the answer, looking away. Then heat warms your cheeks, embarrassment heating across your chest, meeting his gaze. “Should I be?” You ask, quieter than before, stomach tensing as you pull the book closer to your front.

He shrugs, “only if you’d like to. You might find it enjoyable.”

You manage a tight smile, not knowing what to say without sounding rude, so choosing silence.

“Nesta…she has friends there,” Azriel says hesitantly, and you can feel his gaze on you. “They enjoy reading, too. Maybe it would be good for you to go. Exciting.”

“Really?” You ask, managing to meet his gaze, shifting on your feet as you grip the book tighter. “What sort of things—do you know?”

“I could find out,” he offers, the edges of his irises softer.

But you shake your head, “it’s fine. I’m— I’m happy. Where I am, I mean. As I am.” You dip your head slightly at the awkwardness. Should you be saying something like that with pride? There isn’t much to be proud of. Hardly anything you can say for yourself.

It’s a bit worthless, if you’re honest, to only have that to cling to.

“You are?” He asks, gently.

Your stomach drops through your toes, heart plummeting deeper than the depths of the ocean’s floor. Shifting on your feet. Even he can tell… But you nod, head dipping further as you peer at the ground, heart straining for some reason. “Besides, I love getting to read the things in here,” you manage, clutching the volume a little tighter. “And, I’m not sure Nesta…her friends would be interested in reading encyclopaedias.”

“You don’t know until you try,” he says quietly, matching your level of volume. “Wouldn’t it be nice having more people to talk to about the things you like?”

You shift again on your feet, readjusting your grip on the bound book. “Maybe? I guess…”

“So why not try?” He asks, able to hear the slight smile in his voice, and you want so desperately to look at him. “Just one lesson, or even a few minutes to see what it’s like. The first step is usually the hardest.”

“I don’t know…” you hedge, discomfort lodging itself in your throat; between your ribs. “What are you unsure about?” He asks, leaning up against the bookshelves. You shrug, not meeting his gaze. “I guess…I don’t see the point in it,” you answer reluctantly, quietly. Knowing he won’t like that response.

Sure enough, you can hear the frown in his voice, disapproval sharpening into something bladed, disappointment in your lack of enthusiasm. “You should still try,” he says gently, wings shifting at his back, refolding themselves. But you shake your head, more firmly this time, “I don’t want to intrude. That’s her space that she’s made. I don’t want to contaminate it.”

“You wouldn’t be contaminating it,” he sighs, arms folding casually over his broad chest, and you feel like he’s telling you off for something.

Slightly desperately, you aim to switch topic to something he’ll be willing to move on to. You don’t doubt he could keep you here if he wanted, simply returning to the original topic of conversation, so you have to be careful with your new selection.

“Have you asked Elain if she would join?” You ask, not meeting his gaze.

You feel his pause, heart beating a little harder in the hopes he’ll go along with it. The irony of you being the one to bring her up isn’t lost on you—after you’ve wanted a conversation free of her for some time now. So it’s just the two of you, even for one discussion.

“Elain?” He asks, bemusedly, and you nod. “Do you think she’d be interested?”

“You thought I might be. Why not her?” You reply, wincing at your tone. Shifting again on your feet. But instead of tense silence, he chuckles faintly. “I understand the two of you are sisters, but you’re very different from one another.”

Your eyes close briefly, allowing no more than a moment for the condemnation to sink through you.

You’re nothing like Elain, and he can see that clear as day.

So you smile faintly, trying to bring some life into it. “Just a thought.”

———

It had felt like being tossed to the grimy, half-rotten wooden boards of the old hut in there.

They hadn’t bothered with chains—you were human, what could you do against them?

Strange, magic, powerful creatures, hewn from nature herself. Like gazing upon perfect marble sculptures and wishing for their cold grace, sacrificing flesh and blood for stone-cold immortality.

It’s strange how distorting panic can be. How acutely aware of the smallest hairs rising on mostly bare legs, yet forgetting the faces of the fae who’d thrown you into the deep dark of the cell. Warm bodies pressing tight to one another in the dim light of the stone cell, trembling hands gripping one another, grown out nails inadvertently scraping. Shaky breaths misting in the damp, winter deep air.

Few words had been traded in the perpetual night, a cold, spindly hand passing meals into the room through some method of magic. It had been good. Cold and plain yet disgustingly pleasant.

The first time Feyre had returned from Prythian and eaten human food she had gagged, it was unforgettable seeing how she’d changed. Such a small moment with such vast implications. Having then sampled the food, likely the worst of the worst of their own pallet, you could understand the insufficiency.

It doesn’t matter now though. Not now you’re trapped, locked away from the light.

Unknown time passes, and you never hear them coming. Like the night you’d been removed, they come on silent feet, utterly predatory and entirely invincible.

He’d appeared then, sat on a throne constructed of what you think vaguely reminds you human remains—long, stretching bones bound together to be sat upon, forced to serve long after death, condemned to relentless work, never to be lain to rest. The King you’ve been warned about.

At your side Nesta stiffens, observing something you can’t, struggling to remain alert after the numbing darkness of the cell. The strange isolation that had been enforced upon you despite company.

Even to human senses, the smell of blood is apparent, stark and piercing in the barren throne room. Though everything is secondary to the dooming thrum of pressure coming from the dais. Even the lives around you fade into something lesser when confronted with the concentration of Everything before you—a culmination of everything that has ever happened and everything that ever will across the four-dimensional planes, universes stretching and thinned, brought together before the Cauldron that sits, hunched on the stone floor. Watching. Observing. Waiting.

Words jumble from the king’s mouth, but you doubt even Nesta is entirely listening, not with the white-knuckled grip she has on you and Elain, pulled taut together, bound tighter than you’ve ever been before, a refusal to release one another. Even as numbing pain sets in, you don’t try to escape, each of you understanding the aches of the grip are small safeties, reminders you still exist with one another.

Grey-blue eyes catch yours across the hall, wide and fearful as they gaze upon the three of you. The youngest, yet the strongest. The strongest of your sisters, yet maybe the weakest in the room beyond yourselves. The power imbalance so stark the world tilts a little, as if nodding its head sadly in agreement.

Awareness is dunked over you like taking an icy bath, coming to in time to hear the damning words that have your heart jittering in your chest. Lurching and fumbling with fear.

“Who is the youngest, over there?”

And like a moth drawn to flame, your terrified eyes lock with his, singled out as a knowing smile tilts the King’s lips. “You.”

It’s a new terror, you understand. Being noticed by a being so incomprehensibly greater. How to rationalise and understand the fear in the fleeting seconds that tick faster and faster with each blink of your eyes. How time falls flat, and eventually pulls apart as a guard’s hand rips you clean from your sisters, a snarl of rage only adding to the ringing buzz that glistens though your ears, feet fumbling numbly over the cobbles, cracked and jagged in places.

The world fades in and out of focus as ice prickles from beneath your skin, at once hot and at once freezing the skin from your flesh, so cold it will start peeling back at any second, shedding until you disintegrate onto the floor. You’re helpless as you’re pushed onto the dais, far too close to the prowling beast of the Cauldron to ever come away. Even if they released you, the understanding is clear to you it would not allow the escape.

Noises break through the lilting haze of your world, vision clearing enough to pick out the wide, hellish eyes of your oldest sister, the conflict of terror and undeniable rage that blazes away in full view, and you wonder how she can sustain it. How she can muster up an emotion so overpowering your attention is pulled away from the Cauldron. From the King, and Queens.

Her teeth gleam in a snarl directed to the male atop the throne, and you wish for even an ember to take root in your soul. The inadequacies of your own self rising to the surface like bodies buried in muddy land.

“Put her in.”

Every muscle strings taut in your body, jaw nearly breaking itself from pressure, nearly vomiting the food you’d been given from squeezing your stomach in, every part of your being inherently recoiling from the eerily calm pool of black water before you, so still it looks like glass, contained in metal that reeks of something that should not be touched. Even borne witness to.

You’re lofted into the air, unable to so much as kick, terror taking control of your body, feeling as though you’re freshly dead, held stiff by catatonic shock while breath still whispers from your lips. Screams are choked back by the tightness in your throat, lungs burning with cries that would surely curdle blood, piercing shrieks that might at least serve to deafen their keen hearing.

But their large, spindly hands release you, and you slide into the yawning mouth. Gaping, and grinning.

Ice-cold water shocks your system, and you sink like a stone into the liquid. Sinking. Sinking. Sinking.

Dropping through the barriers of the realm. Falling off the edge of the world.

You drop further than possible, and nightmares resurface. Of rivers that swell and break their banks, flooding wetlands and tearing livestock from their home in the torrents of the winter melt. Rain lashing down day after day, heart pounding in your chest, hoping the rising water will never reach the already shaky beams of your rotting hut. In those night terrors there’s no escaping the rising tides, the currents gripping your ankles as you’re snatched from your feet, dragged away and under, swallowed whole and torn from your family in the blink of an eye.

Liquid like mercury surrounds you whole, submerged in the quicksilver of the Cauldron’s contents, dredging up long forgotten memories as though your life is passing before your eyes. Laying on the floor of your father’s study, flipping through books on food, plants, fauna and flora. There had been one nightmarish creature that had always stuck with you, lurking in the depths of your mind no matter what comforts Elain had provided, nor the goofy drawings Feyre had done in attempts to reduce the terror, nor the reasoning that such a small creature whose home was the deepest, murkiest parts of the sea would ever be able to find you.

And yet the Cauldron seems to seek it out specifically, conjuring the memory of the slimy pale blue paint that had been used, the ink that sharpened razor like teeth, the small spot of white on the page that illuminated the fish’s grotesque features.

Like an angler fish, you can’t help but feel now, sunken so far below, sucked in a whirlpool to the bottom of the Cauldron, that its icy surface had been the light, the power rolling from its dark metal the warm glow, and you’d been thrown toward it.

Now past the shredding ring of teeth, cast into its stomach.

The inky water pushes at your lips, squirming at your squeezed-shut eyes, wriggling like icy maggots trying to crawl beneath your skin, to worm their way inside and infest. It seems impossible to hold them out—everything had come from the Cauldron, how were you supposed to barricade yourself against that which you’d been born of?

You pull as tight as you can, wrapping in on yourself as blood recoils from your extremities, all you can salvage of yourself pulling taut and compact, stitched closer than rock, squeezed denser than ice that’s had centuries to compress. Air has long since lost its value among your turned around preservation instincts. Air is a pathway in, and you fear its intrusion with a conviction that spears deeper than any fear of death.

But the Cauldron is a prime creator, second you suppose only to the Mother, and has no concern for time.

No matter how long you keep it out for, minutes, hours, days, years, time is endless and stretching, a new metric confined to the swirling depths of horror contained within its malice-imbued metal. No matter how long you keep yourself walled off, hibernating deep within the parts of yourself you hadn’t even known existed, it waits just outside, prowling, circling, slowly squeezing and constricting. Until like even ice, or rock, you’ll split open. Pressure so steep it could cleave universes.

Even after the walls you’ve hidden behind, the only things keeping out the idle swirl of pure, liquid power, it’s not enough. Everything will fall to time, eroded and grated down to dust beneath the relentless drip of ticking seconds.

Your mind feels too numb to register as it creeps in, cold and deadening as it spreads calmly throughout your blood, filling you up from the inside out, infusing into your skin—numbed from slumber. Creeping and contaminating with cold, needle slim fingers, rearranging and knitting pieces together than should not be joined within a mortal.

It holds you with a familiarity that’s at once startling and reassuring, a puppet returned to the puppeteer, a dress returned to the seamstress, a splintered leg returned to the carpenter. All of them at once, without the care of a mother for her child. Cold and analytical, examining its past creation, exploring its functions with harsh fingers. Peeling back your skin, then your flesh, then your skull, retrieving the centre of your thoughts to discover your foundations.

Wishes and desires, tucked away secrets even you’ve forgotten, passing thoughts unworthy of being voiced, wants that deserved to be spoken but tied down by your tongue. Its ladle scoops you out, hollowing your mind and stomach, dipping a spoon into soup to retrieve a mouthful, except this space will be replaced with something else. Something to push the bounds of humanity and transform you into the sharp-featured creatures who had taken what scraps of your world had remained.

Something with the tremendous strike of lightening but worse fills the empty pockets it’s made. Capable of burning like the blazing rage contained within quicksilver eyes. Something slower. More insidious. You aren’t made for brute force, so a more subtle route will have to be afforded.

Like it had selected the nightmarish memories, so does it haul up the secret wishes. The wants so desperate they have heat kicking back against the icy touch of the Cauldron’s waters. To blaze like Nesta, to protect like Feyre, to soothe like Elain. But more.

A use.

If not a warrior, then a blade to be harnessed.

The Cauldron plucks the desire from your bones, and your body slumps. Skin without its stuffing, a heart without its thump. You could swear you feel it smile as it finds what it’s looking for, now conjuring up its match. The piece to fill the void it’s created by removing the wish, replaced with something sturdier, to lift your body to immortality.

With each possibility the prices rise steeper, and yet you no longer recoil.

The craving to have something—something entirely new, something entirely your own taking control of your mind and soul, driving you forward. How deeply you yearn to be someone with possessions that are your own. Not passed down, nor borrowed or shared, but your own. Something only you can have.

The desire is so acute you feel salty wetness push out from beneath closed eyelids.

To be sought after. Craved. Pursued.

Valued, treasured, fought for.

To have something that made you become both desired and capable of protection.

The cost would always be irrelevant for an offer like that.

Down to your roots, clipped at the foundations, an entirely human desire to be wanted. At whatever price, the yearning so innate and so acute your heart aches within the cage of your ribs. It runs deeper than a want, or a wish, or a need. So inherent to your ideal that now you’ve discovered its existence, returning without it would be a new death with every second, every breath drawn taking you further apart from the moment your could’ve had it.

The Cauldron smiles, dangling it before you, quietly hiding away what it’s already taken, not giving you a chance to consider what you will lose.

And with a still human heart, your soft, trembling fingers pluck the glowing green star from the inky darkness. Fooled by inexperience.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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[eggyrocks]

rot: h. iwaizumi

chapter six -> a promise

(masterlist ; written content)

word count: 2.7k

now playing: my hot piss by die spitz

Autumn cools everything down. The feverish sort of pain that made her almost delirious has chilled into a dull, steady ache. Kiyoko rests her head on her shoulder. They sit on the couch together, under a shared blanket, and watch old, cheesy horror movies. Every on-screen death makes Kiyoko flinch and hide her face under the blanket.

It’s odd, to be in her apartment, to have it be her own as well. Where the fridge is free of remnants of rotten food and is properly stocked with essentials. Where the furniture matches and there’s no stuffing spilling out of the cushioning. It’s small, and sometimes she has to fiddle with the pipes under the sink to avoid calling a plumber, but it’s nice. It’s well-kept and Kiyoko always has some kind of candle lit. The walls are white, just white, not stained yellow from years of cigarette smoking. The locks don’t look like they’re about to fall off the door. There’s no mold in the bathroom. No pest infestations. No decay in the hardwood floor.

It makes her feel so out of place.

“My parents helped with the deposit,” Kiyoko had explained to her, almost sheepishly, like this was something she should be ashamed of. “And with the first few months of rent while I built up some savings. It’s how I was able to get it.”

Her brother would’ve liked Kiyoko, she thinks. He would’ve liked her quiet demeanor, and the deliberate sort of way she carries herself. He would’ve liked how spending time with her is never overwhelming. He would’ve liked how her voice is like a small stream that runs down the street after a rainstorm.

They would’ve gotten along.

She has the thought that he would’ve hated Iwaizumi, and then tries to pretend that she didn’t.

Onscreen, a head is removed from a set of shoulders. She tries not to think of Iwaizumi. It makes her sick, even his name. Never once has she felt like she did the right thing. Kiyoko keeps telling her that sometimes, the right things hurt the most. But that doesn’t help. It doesn’t quell the nausea she feels at his memory. It doesn’t fade that dull, aching loneliness. It doesn’t make her feel better about leaving him.

Objectively, her life as improved post-Iwaizumi. She’s held onto the same job for several months in a row without incident (no spitting, cursing, or fighting-though that’s mostly due to Kiyoko). She actually has money in her bank account now, ¥50,901.96, after rent (which, isn’t a lot by any metric, but it’s definitely more than nothing). Her father stopped calling. Her diet is much more balanced. The cable’s better. She doesn’t really get mad anymore.

It's an improvement. A drastic one. Something she probably wouldn’t have been able to achieve on her own.

But it’s worse. It just feels worse.

Blood spews from a headless body, cartoonishly fake. Kiyoko squirms, and she doesn’t flinch.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

The bell on the door to the sports shop dings as the it closes, and a customer leaves with fresh tennis balls. She rests her cheek on the palm of her hand as she leans up against the counter. She’s drawing the earth as it explodes from the inside, splitting into dozens of chunks of land and ocean. “Who the fuck buys tennis balls in November?”

Kiyoko slides behind the counter to stand beside her, peering over her shoulder to watch her draw. “I dunno. Maybe he’s going somewhere warm,” she offers as a solution.

Kiyoko doesn’t hate people the way she does. She can’t ever hate someone just because she wants to; Kiyoko doesn’t ever want to. It makes her feel mean, since the feeling of hatred comes to her so naturally. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Noya thinks you’re cute,” Kiyoko says, suddenly stiffer when she talks. “He asked if you were going to go out with us tomorrow night.”

She doesn’t know who Noya is. She probably should. He’s probably someone that she’s met more than once. But she can’t conjure up the face that’s supposed to go with the name. “Which one’s he?” she asks, well past the point of caring if she seems rude to Kiyoko.

Kiyoko knows she’s rude, at this point.

“The short one,” she answers. “The one with the blond in his hair.”

Her pen digs into the notebook paper, adding shading around a blown-up chunk of earth. “Yeah, he’s cute, I guess.”

Kiyoko makes a noise of acknowledgement. “But you’re not into him.”

It’s not a question, so she doesn’t answer it. Kiyoko sighs, and rocks on her heel. “That’s fair. As long as it’s because you’re actually not into him, and not because you’re not over Iwaizumi.”

Hearing his name spoken so casually makes her flinch. Kiyoko notices and leans her head down on her shoulder. “Well, we’ll get there.”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

At her lowest point, she calls her father.

She dials his number so many times she loses track of it. She stares at the numbers for so long they start to lose meaning. When she closes her eyes, she sees them burned into the inside of her eyelids. She hits ‘call,’ and then hangs up, only to dial him right back up again.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and definitely not why. She just sort of acts, moved by impulse and a craving for something unknown.

It rings. It rings three times before he answers. His phone is gruff and worn on the other line. “Hello?”

Her hand slaps over her mouth, and she tries to quiet her breathing, like she’s hiding from him. Her eyes prick and burn. “Hello?” he repeats on the other end, more impatient this time. Her heart pounds like he’s just on the other side of the door. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

“Fucking hell,” is the last thing she hears before the line goes dead. The phone clatters to the floor of her bedroom, and she cries. The first time she’s cried like this in months.

She really doesn’t know what she’s doing.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Most of her time is spent lying in her bed, doing nothing, thinking about everything. Sometimes she goes along with Kiyoko when she goes out with her friends, and she sits in the corner and tries not to draw too much attention to herself. She hates that. Sometimes she tries to pick up extra shifts at work just to pass the time. She hates that too. Sometimes she goes to this cheap dive bar just two blocks away from her new apartment, just to have a drink or two in a place that’s not her bedroom.

She orders a second drink. It’s bone-chilling cold outside, and the alcohol makes her feel warmer. Just a bit. She thinks it’s sad that this is the most exciting part of her week.

At least the festering rot that tore her up from the inside was interesting. Now her life is boring and depressing.

The call of her name is sudden and jarring. She spins around in the barstool with an elevated heartrate and her fingers reaching for her keys. She doesn’t recognize him, at first. When her eyes first land on him, she continues looking for a second, before it catches up to her. Her heart leaps up to her throat. “Matsukawa?”

Matsukawa chugs, his head tilted back and his Adam’s apple bobbing, downing the pint until there’s nothing left but traces of white foam. Her fingers tap against her own glass, looking at the condensation that leaves a ring around the wooden bar. It reminds her of the plastic cups of coffee Iwa brought her daily. She didn’t drink coffee before that. Now every morning she finds herself crawling out of bed at eight in the goddamn morning, throwing on whatever clothes are on her floor so she can get to the closest coffee shop before it gets too busy.

“Is he over me yet?” she asks, tips of her fingers collecting droplets of condensation.

Matsukawa slams his glass down on the bar. “Nah.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Not even a little. Iwa’ll never get over you.”

Her eyes roll. Matsukawa sees this and narrows his own. “Don’t think I don’t mean it.”

There’s an awkwardness that hangs between them. She takes a sip of her own drink and swishes it over her tongue, trying to distract from it. “He’s got a long time to.”

“Doesn’t matter. I know him. You were it.”

“Then he shouldn’t have left me.”

She says this, she realizes, with familiarity, the kind that no longer exists between her and Matsukawa. She hasn’t seen him since her father’s blood was on her hands. Any closes between them granted by the lifesaving has since evaporated, and now, they’re as good as strangers. At least to her.

Still, Matsukawa leans back in the bar stool. “Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have.”

She shifts in her seat uncomfortably. It would’ve been better if he argued. “Yeah,” is all she can manage, her fire dulled.

“You don’t look like you’re doing that much better than he is,” Matsukawa remarks, and she offers no reaction. It’s not like he’s wrong. “You two are both idiots. You’re perfect for each other.”

Her lip furls up. “You got a lot of fucking opinions on this.”

“Hard not to. Iwa’s heartbreak is everyone’s problem.”

Iwa’s heartbreak. She doesn’t like the implication of it. Like it’s just his. Like it’s nothing something he caused for her. Like it’s not something they share.

“C’mon,” Matsukawa says, hand clapping on her back, like he can see the thoughts brewing in her head, and he wants to cut her off before they can work their way over to him, “let me walk you home.”

He does. He walks her home and he talks about his recovery post-stabbing and he rants about Oikawa and he talks about this girl he’s been talking to that he’s not really that into and he talks about how good Makki’s been looking lately but he doesn’t ask about her and he doesn’t bring up Iwaizumi again.

At least that she’s grateful for.

And when he deposits her at her front door, he grins, and tells her that he’ll see her later.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

It’s snowing. She stands outside of his apartment, box in her hands and something caught in her throat. It’s been a few weeks since she’s seen Matsukawa, and she’s done little but think about him and what he said and fixate on it and let it gnaw away at her.

So she’s outside Iwaizumi’s apartment, snow getting stuck in her hair and fingers going numb.

Her list of problems doesn’t really exist anymore. They’re not as material, harder to pin down. Her anger issues have simmered down into this lethargic mood that has much less daily wear and tear. The split rent and the consistent income have dissipated the money problems. She doesn’t worry about things the way she used to. Things don’t really plague her the way they used to.

It’s really just him. It’s really just Iwaizumi.

She sighs. It was easier in her head. Everything’s always easier in her head.

Now that she’s here, all she can think about is everything that can go wrong. Matsukawa being wrong, and Iwaizumi being over her, so much so that he’s not even moved at the sight of her and there’s already someone else in there warming up her side of the bed. He could be working. He could hate her. It could go as badly as it did last time.

Kiyoko disapproved of the plan. Kiyoko wanted her to move on. She wanted her to find a life outside of Iwaizumi, purpose outside of him, drive outside of him.

But people like Kiyoko don’t get it. People like Kiyoko don’t know what it’s like to be infected with something so consuming and persistent and chronic. Kiyoko doesn’t get it. Iwaizumi gets it.

He gets it.

She inhales slowly, and forces herself to move forward.

Breaking into the front door of her old apartment building is something she’s done more times than she’s proud of. It’s oddly nostalgic to pop that old lock open, and it feels the same as she creeps up the stairs. It was like this when she first moved in. Bitter, winter air floating up the stairs like all the windows were left open. She remembers shaking as she hauled up trash bags of her belongings, and taking breaks to wrap herself up in the first blanket she could unpack.

She feels that way now as she stomps up the stairs, the bottom of her boots heavy against the wood. She wonders if he can hear her coming.

By the time she reaches the top of the stairs, her hands are trembling, and she’s slightly out of breath. She takes a moment to catch it before she’s shifting the box to hold in one hand, and she knocks. She does it before she has the chance to talk herself out of it.

The door swings open sooner than she thought it would, like Iwaizumi was just standing there on the other side, waiting for her. Waiting for her this whole time.

When she sees him, she holds her breath. She holds her breath as she counts the one, two three, four bruises and the one, two, three cuts that decorate his features. He’s paler than he was before. The bags under his eyes are darker.

Still, he looks pretty. She always thinks he looks pretty.

His reaction to her, standing at his doorstep after six months, is the same as his reaction to everything else. His brow slightly furrowed, mouth curled up in something that looks like annoyance. She’s not surprised when he doesn’t say anything.

“Um, hey,” is how she starts out. It makes her flinch. “I’m sorry to just like, pop up out of nowhere but, I just kinda wanted to see you. I, erm, I missed you. A lot.”

Iwaizumi says nothing to this either. She feels oddly like she is shooting herself in the foot, and she loses the ability to look him in the eye.

“I feel really bad about how everything went down,” she confesses, now staring at her shoes. He’s still looking at her, she can feel it. “I’ m not proud of the things I said or how I acted. I don’t-I don’t hate you, not at all.”

She thinks she can see his chest rise and fall with heavy, deliberate breaths. But she’s not sure. Could be imagining it. The corners of her vision are starting to blur. She holds the box up to him.

A CD player. Brand new. The same one he got her.

“I got you this. As a sorry. I felt like shit for breaking the one you got me. I feel like shit for a lot of it, but that gift meant a lot to me. Just like you do. And I break things a lot and I have a lot of issues and I don’t think you-“

She does not get to finish her sentence. Iwaizumi grabs her by the arm and pulls her into her chest. The force knocks the box out of her hands, and CD player slams to the ground between them. Before she can realize what’s happened, her feet are hovering above the floor, and Iwaizumi’s arms are tight around her.

It’s automatic, the way she returns the embrace. Her arms snake around his middle, and she leans her head against his chest. She started crying at one point, without realizing it.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Iwaizumi says, pressing his face into the top of her head, lips kissing her hair between words. “You have no fucking idea how sorry I am.”

She does, because she feels it. It gnaws away at her chest the same way it does to his. She shakes her head. “I get it,” she tells him. “I know it.”

“Please say,” Iwaizumi pleads. “Please. I would do anything for you to stay.”

If she were someone like Kiyoko, she would say no. She would leave. She wouldn’t have ever come back. Because she knows, she knows that Iwaizumi is not going to change. He’s not going to become someone different overnight, or over six months, or a year or a dozen. Iwaizumi is always going to be who he was the day that she met him.

People like your father only care about one thing. And it’s not you, and it’s not me.

She holds onto him tighter, and thinks that that’s okay. She is too. “I’ll stay,” she promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

an: ok let’s try this again

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[kings-highway]

Haikyuu Flash Fiction: "Long Distance Injury" (Iwaoi Hurt/Comfort)

---

Oikawa hadn't realized how much he had leaned on Iwaizumi's aggressive care for him. How easy and playful it had been, to wave it off, insist he was fine, knowing full well that Iwa would see through him and force him to the bench. That he'd prepare ice for him, demand he stay off it, yell at him and scold him for being reckless. He hadn't realized how much he had loved getting tended to. The pain in his ankle or his knee or his shoulder was secondary when he'd had Iwa there to play doctor, to rub his back and tell him how badly it must hurt, and how stupid he was.

So the first time he gets injured in Argentina, mid-practice with the team, he doesn't even know what to do. Coach blows his whistle and yells at him to go get it checked out - they have people for that, of course - but nobody comes running under the net. They ask if he's alright, but nobody looks feverish with concern.

He tells them it barely hurts, it's fine. He waves it off like he always does, because that's who he is, and they believe him. So they go back to practicing.

Oikawa is given a look over, the nurse says it's mostly likely just a light sprain, that he'll be okay in a few days if he takes it easy. He tells her he'll be a-ok, it doesnt even hurt that bad. She gives him ice, and then leaves him alone. He doesn't put the ice on it. He never has before, why would he now? But it's a confused emotion - it's not that he doesn't want to put the ice on, it's that he is supposed to pretend like he's better than the injury, like it doesn't really hurt at all, and Iwa is supposed to put the ice on, and call him an idiot for even considering going back to practice.

But nobody would stop him if he just said it didn't hurt and went back to practice.

It feels odd.

He gets home that day, the ice long melted, and knows he should get more. He sits on his bed and feels the dull, throbbing pain - he'd had to walk home. When someone asked to help him, or give him a ride, he's said he was fine and it didn't hurt. They'd believed him.

It hurts a lot. It hurts a lot more than he thought it would.

It occurs to him that across the ocean in Japan, Iwa would be awake by now. But Oikawa isn't stupid.

If he wants Iwa to call and tell him to ice the injury, he's going to have to tell him first.

There is no way for him to both try and hide the injury and play it off like he always did and have Iwaizuimi play caregiver anymore. Because hiding it would be easy.

He never has to listen to those rants again. Iwa can't force him to lay in bed, muttering and cursing him out as he cared for him. If Oikawa wants that attention again, he's going to have to ask for it.

He picks up the phone.

But that's not who he is. It hurts so badly, but he's Oikawa Tooru, he doesn't complain about his injuries, he fights through them. He fights until someone forces him to stop, so he should be overjoyed by the perfect opportunity to avoid drawing attention to it. Is that what he wanted?

He presses call on the phone. It only rings once.

"Hey, thanks for waking me up, asshole, what do you need?" Iwa says. Oikawa knows he was already awake.

He also knows how to care for this injury. He's an adult, he's had them before. He can visualize the entire healing process perfectly. He doesn't need help.

He shouldn't bother Iwa with this, there's no need.

But that's not what it's really about, is it?

"I... sprained my ankle," he says. "At practice today."

Iwa is quiet for a moment, before he says: "What, like, badly?"

"No. Not badly. It doesn't even hurt."

This makes Iwa laugh. Finally, finally, someone doesn't believe him.

"Oh, whatever," Iwa scoffs. "Just make sure you ice it, okay? And keep off of it, I don't want to be getting a call from you all teary and upset because your coach won't let you play when it doesn't heal quick. So lay down!"

Oikawa smiles slightly, a reflex to cover the fact that there are tears in his eyes now. No, not from sadness, that's not what this is about.

"It's not that big of a deal," he says, as his ankle burns hot in pain.

He can hear Iwaizumi's huff, a desperate, angry sound. "Please, you idiot, please just go ice it," he says, and Oikawa is a little shocked by how miserable he sounds. "You're... too far away, I can't knock any sense into you, so please, please just take care of yourself. Ice it. Right now."

Oikawa lifts a hand to wipe the tear that has run down his cheek, nodding before realizing Iwaizumi would not be able to see him.

"Yes sir," he says. "But for the record, I'm fine."

"I know," Iwa replies. "Do it anyway."

[zeondraws]

Ok, Fellas, so today was wild

I'm at Gamescom atm and a week before this I tried to make a small plan for myself. Mostly because I had gotten such a big interest for the game, I wanted to see if I can meet anyone at the event.

After having had a big hurdle while trying to reenter the business area, I was able to go back and meet someone from the Chinese Room (I met two today). Which was wild for me, didn't think with this sudden interest in the game that I was able to meet someone from the team who worked on the game so soon.

I told them how I struggle to find interests in most games since those usually don't speak to me, but Still Wakes The Deep suddenly caught my attention. Where I ended up researching a bunch to find hidden details or eastereggs, looking through the game files and replaying the game to further understand the story.

I only had a small window to ask a bunch of questions, I sadly couldn't ask silly questions like "Does Muir look like a Bagpipe?" or ask some Questions about Caz.

Before the meeting I asked people on the discord server if they wanted to know anything. So I tried to take the questions I had for the moment and get through them XD

I did tell them how there is a small community on tumblr/discord where we gather. And that I asked some folk for questions I should ask.

Ok these are big spoilers, at least some suprised me, quite a bunch if them are of course about Muir and Innes.

I hope I remember everything properly that he told me, I immediately wrote everything down on discord for the others to read, but figured making a tumblr post will be good as well.

Innes:

Quite a lot of people asked about the VA of Innes, apparently they forgot to include him in the credits which made them feel extremely bad, even apologising to them. I can definitely understand how that must feel, I think I'd melt away. They'd fix it in the next patch, I can't check if it's already fixed atm.

At the very end of our chat, while shaking hands, I asked if Innes is bald. And the answer was "*laughs* yes".

Now I clearly asked this one as a joke, because I found it funny to tell the others on discord, however I very much support luscious hair Innes that many are drawing.

Muir:

I explained to them how I've been researching some stuff in the game. And figured out, that Muir must've died around the time when Caz flooded the Forward Pontoon in Marine Control. So I asked if that's possible to be the time when it actually happend- and they did confirm this! I was surprised that I got that on point.

But I got some further details about this, apparently they wanted to showcase how Muir would've died there.

Basically, once Caz flooded the Forward Pontoon, you would've seen Muir outside loosing his grip out in the deck and getting crushed under debris.

Which was so painful for me to imagine, to see Muir outside, walking on his tendrils and suddenly not being able to keep his balance.

I tried illustrating how I roughly imagine this scene, it ain't perfect, but maybe it helps everyone to visualise it.

The Flooding shifted the entire rig and debris fell onto him.

To have some sense where everything is, Accommodation Roof (where you find Roy) is on the left side, if you look at the rig from the Derrick entrance. And Marine Control should be on the right side.

The thing is Marine Control is facing the ocean (if I remember correctly, I hope I do, I'm currently not home to check), so you couldn't take a look at the derick while Caz does the thing. Which basically made them remove this and hid Muir nearby the Derrick for players to find. And I told him how I replayed the game and saw Muir lay there with Innes, it was 6AM and I just sat there like O-O

Muir & Innes:

A burning question for many was, what their relationship is. And they told me it's more like a father son relationship, saying how Innes is very strict to Muir.

Muir is the younger one of the two and also likes to tease Innes a bunch (so the pipe thing is one of his many shenanigans he'd do)

Here we see a wild Muir in his natural habitat about to prank his friend (caught in 4k) (I almost died) (look at him plotting).

Now, I could not forget to mention that the fandom decided to ship Muir and Innes and wanted to see their reaction. They took it with a smile and just talked about their complex relationship again. Which I found cool to hear.

I sadly don't remember every small detail of the convo, since I wanted to make sure that I was able to ask all the questions people wrote on discord.

Brodie & Raffs:

This was a surprise to hear, which also made me very sad. Brodie was also like a father for Raffs, he knew his mother too.

And apparently Brodie was supposed to tell Raffs mother incase anything happened to him. So that she can feel better knowing Raffs died quickly and without much pain. Which is just... I'm in shambles. sobbing

Gibbo:

Some folk wanted to know if he had an actual model, to which the person answered with yes. They planned to show him at some point, but decided that the player should see Trots firstly.

I also randomly asked if the Gibbo model ingame was a part of Addairs model (judging by the game files), if I remember correctly he nodded.

I hope we get to see it in the artbook, I preordered it but forgor to tell him that. But it's okay.

I sadly don't remember everything here, I had to check discord for the questions (I hope I don't say anything wrong), but with Gibbo they focused more on the sound design and the mystery. And I think in the end it worked out perfectly.

Other:

They implanted a bunch of eastern eggs into the game, the art director even said he's still finding new ones to this day.

He mentioned the pictures shown in various areas and mentioned that he inserted pictures of his family and cousins etc.

Also the Kid inside the TV in the Crew Lounge? That's the Art Director as a kid! Whaaaaaaaa- Didn't know this one for sure.

And another random thing, I showed him the meme that @cazrig made. Because I inserted it inside my piece of fanart. I sadly couldn't show him more memes of the community because I forgor/no time. The memes Robin made are also comedy gold.

It was this one (I keep dying of laughter)

He found it very funny, so did the other person I showed it to.

But he also talked about how worried he was how the game would be perceived in the end. Since it came out extremely close to the release date of the new Elden Ring DLC. And having worked on it for so long they didn't know how the reactions would be.

But were positively surprised how well it was perceived, people playing the game, tears being shed and so on.

Okay that took me ages to write, I just wanted to have it all inside a tumblr post. Otherwise I may forget stuff if it's scattered on discord.

The event day turned out well for me today. I was so worried, that my tiny plan wouldn't work yesterday. But somehow I had some luck on my side.

After I got home I added his signature to my physical copy. I also made myself a small card with my artwork for it. I also gave them a small card and a big printed version of the fanart as well.

Thank you John!

I go sleep now, tomorrow is another gamescom day

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

so 96% of you wanted to see me do a redesign of mermista. and while i can draw, i've been stuck in an art block so i opted to just draw over her current design. i don't hate all of it so i'm not changing everything.

let me go through the complaints i do have about her design.

first off, she does not look like royalty in the slightest. she just looks like some girl who likes the color blue. even the gold accents don't really help. i'm not saying she has to walk around in a gown and tiara but at least add something to her design to indicate that she's a princess?

secondly, those clown shoes are NOT IT. who even thought of that? they look uncomfortable and ridiculous, and doesn't make sense for her character design.

those sleeves/armor (??? i honestly don't know what those are) and gold gauntlets also do not look practical in the slightest. they look like they'd be a hindrance for a swimmer. and guess what, she still has them in her mermaid form.

the OG mermista design wasn't the greatest but at least it looked like she could swim comfortably.

so my objectives were:

give her outfit a more streamlined look so it would make sense for her powers

make her look like actual royalty and not some girl with a cool color palette

expand more on the indian-inspired design and reflect that in her usual outfit, instead of putting her in a saree-inspired dress for one episode and calling it a day (i say saree-inspired because it's not really a traditional saree, but more like a modern and slightly western rendition)

i made two versions of her redesign - one with a dupatta and one without. the dupatta, i understand, could be a hindrance in certain situations but i just wanted to give an example of how to take inspiration from a culture instead of just using it for brownie points. a dupatta is something indians would wear with their casual attire, mostly with salwars, unlike sarees which are generally reserved for special occasions (there are sarees that are casual wear, but they're still not the most convenient).

secondly, i gave her a headwear inspired from desi wedding attire and older indian tiaras. mind you, indian tiaras themselves are a lot more complex and beautifully crafted, but 1. it would take me ages to draw all the details and 2. i figured mermista would go for a simpler look, especially when she's not at her palace. also, while indian headwears are usually made with gold and jewels, i gave mermista's headwear pearls because.. pearls, oysters, ocean. mermaid vibes.

i changed the shoes and gave her a pair that are inspired by water shoes. i know that she would transform into a mermaid while swimming anyway, but these still look more comfortable without serving clowncore.

i replaced her gold accents with silver because the gold doesn't really mesh well with the teal, in my opinion. while indians are known for their love of gold, a lot of people nowadays opt for silver, because it is less expensive and more compatible with casual wear.

i highlighted the fishscale pattern in her outfit since you could barely see them in the original.

i gave her a bindi and the necklace that 80s mermista wore, as a tribute to the OG show, and the design is complete. i know that some of these may not be the easiest to animate but if they could animate perfuma's cape thing, entrapta's hair and a hundred different outfits for catra; this design is just child's play.

let me know what you think of the redesign and if you want me to do the same for the other characters!

[xxlady-lunaxx]

hi! Im not sure if you have art requests open, or even have any! If you don’t then feel free to ignore this!

I just wanted to request a sanegiyuu comic/artpeice!

Since yk how giyuu can’t swim? Well what about sanemi helping him? Going in deep water where they can stand but sanemi is holding giyuu while he tries to swim!

Ah, but then again if you don’t wish to draw, i want to ask if you can write it? Its totally okay if you can’t!

Have a nice day! <3

im sosorry this took so longg 😭 i decided to write smth+a drawing bc im bad at comics lmfao BUT THEN I GOT STUCK IN AN ARTBLOCK HALFWAY THROUGH IM SORRY (art is at the end !)

Despite being the Water Hashira, Giyuu, in fact, did not know how to swim. He never considered it an important asset, given that demons mostly fought on land anyway. But when Mitsuri reported, an embarrassed flush painting her face, that she had fallen backwards into the ocean on one occasion during a fight, he decided that he might need to learn. He didn’t really know who did know how to swim, given that this wasn’t exactly a subject that came by as it wanted, so he wavered on the decision a bit. He wasn’t shameless. He felt that he would feel humiliated if he asked for help for this one thing—after all, what Water Hashira didn’t know how to swim?? (Especially with his training having consisted with being thrown into waterfalls more often than not). In the end, however, he went to his boyfriend, Sanemi. He supposed embarrassment was a small price to pay if he avoided drowning.

Sanemi agreed to help him—after recovering from a short spasm of what he pretended wasn’t laughter. Really, nobody could blame Sanemi (except Giyuu, who was clueless) what with Giyuu coming up to him with a face set with determination asking, like a child, to be taught to swim. But he did take Giyuu to a river the next time they were both free. He had him strip down until a single cloth derailed the word ‘naked’ to be used as a term for Giyuu’s current state. Then he promptly pushed him into the biting water.

Giyuu, as used to being abruptly pushed into icy water without warning as he was, still yelped as he landed with a splash into one of the deeper parts of the river. He flailed for a moment before resurfacing, his whole body trembling and his arms lifting to wrap around himself.

“Sanemi!” he whined, his feet sinking into the muddy bottom. He moved much too slowly for his taste—held back by the current of the river—until he stood at the edge, glaring up at his boyfriend. “I said teach me how to swim, not kill me!”

“You don’t look dead,” Sanemi remarked, biting back a smirk.

“Are you going to help or not?” Giyuu asked, lips tugging into a frown as he struggle to prevent his teeth from chattering. Fuck, this was colder than he’d realized. Certainly didn’t help that near to all his skin was exposed.

“I will. Give me a moment,” Sanemi said. He stripped down then joined Giyuu into the river, easing down in a much calmer way than Giyuu had had the luxury to afford. After that, however, Sanemi was a lot kinder. Impatience bit at his voice but he held Giyuu steadily, instructing him to hold his breath and submerge his face underwater. It was, unfortunately, the first step.

Giyuu did as he was told, sucking in a deep breath, scrunching up his nose and shutting his eyes tightly before he plunged down into the icy water. The current of the river batted at his face and he struggled to ignore every instinct that screamed at him to come back up. Then, not used to this strange environment, he lost his focus and air instantly tried filling his lungs. He popped back up in a panic, coughing out the water that stung the back of his mouth and his throat, lungs aching. He had apparently inhaled some of the water as he tried satisfying the urging need for air.

Sanemi sighed, rubbing Giyuu’s back and letting him catch his breath. “I said hold your breath, you idiot. Just because you’re the Water Hashira doesn’t mean you should literally breathe water,” he said. Then, with a hint of concern in his voice he added, “Take a minute, though.“

Giyuu took his time, which was much longer than a minute. But when he did decide he had recovered from the apparently traumatizing experience, Sanemi made him do it again. And again. And again. Until he was as comfortable as he could get doing this. By then, they had been in the water for quite some time and Sanemi decided that they shouldn’t risk getting a cold and dragged Giyuu back out. When Giyuu protested, saying he had barely learnt anything, Sanemi threatened that he would personally go back in time and place Giyuu somewhere in the years following 1346. He also added that they could continue the next day, to which Giyuu backed down. He was cold, after all.

The following day, after getting a bit of sleep, they focused on floating. Giyuu was dubious to the fact that he would be able to float, deciding that his inability to swim would render him useless. Sanemi called him an idiot. As it turned out, Giyuu really was somewhat floatable. He found this practice considerably more calming than the last, bobbing up and down in the river, eyes closed and body just… floating along. It was more enjoyable, to say the least. But then Sanemi got bored of this, apparently, because when Giyuu looked around after fifteen minutes of just floating, Sanemi had disappeared. They continued the next day.

As Giyuu progressed, Sanemi started taking him to rivers with longer widths. Oceans were either too far or too dangerous for the moment, unless Giyuu wanted to idle around the shores and make sand castles. So they stuck to rivers.

Despite having felt that none of this would’ve been helpful before they had started, Giyuu found that swimming was actually quite relaxing (as long as Sanemi wasn’t pushing him into the water). He hadn’t lived near anywhere they could use for swimming as a child, so he hadn’t done more than splash about in big puddles. This was much different and he liked it, almost unbelieving of the fact that he had been doubtful this would be anything more than a useful asset might he come across trouble in battle.However, he still wasn’t quite good at it yet which, he supposed, was only normal, yet made him feel reproachful when their next sessions came along. Sanemi assured him that it would take time and not to rush it unless he planned on drowning. Which wasn’t quite so reassuring, but at least he hadn’t quit yet. Even with all his complaints about his inept student. Nevertheless, Giyuu wasn’t the only one having fun and he could see Sanemi looking more relaxed as he laughed (albeit he was laughing at Giyuu for having flailed about after getting scared by what had turned out to be an underwater plant).

(i couldn’t bother coloring fusjjfndn fuck)

[dailymothanon]

I’m back 🐶 thank you for being patient, things are relatively back to normal! Anyways I got some drawings… it’s the actual D&D au now! I’ve got plenty of ideas, but for now this is Alaska and Maine! Alaska is a Druid, circle of stars though his race is unknown (I also don’t have any general cloth ideas for him). It is noted he is very bird-like tho, no wings because he can just have a wild shape/starry form with a pair. Maine is a half human half beast, he’s quite prickly because unfortunately even in this au he still has to deal with the northeast 😒 (long rants of ideas below)

I also have other ideas for other states, but I haven’t drawn them yet. For New Jersey I’m thinking like Nevada he is a fae folk but of a bee; and he was born with deformed and torn wings that resemble the Jersey devil’s. But due to his deformity his “hive” decided to just toss him out because they wanted a big strong community with no one holding them back 😒 so maybe Jersey had to barely survive out there on his own, and in later years NY could’ve found him (I like to think he is a human knight, merely because instead of his bat he can have a sword) and took him in 😌 (and they were roommates)

Another idea I’ve got is for Texas! I would like to think he is a mostly human gunslinger who is legally blind (not totally blind, tho still very blind) but sees thru heat & taste, much like a snake does. Maybe he collects bounties, I haven’t really thought much for his lore yet 🤔 but he is one of the best gunslingers out there despite his disability!

Cali is also one I’ve thought up, I think he could be a dragon rider. A funny idea is that he has a scam where he and his dragon makes this whole act where he pretends to be a princess damsel in distress, being held captive by the big bag dragon and people who come and try to “save” him but it just ends up with Cali robbing them 😒 (love me a big flawed character)

As for Alaska, he’s as stated, a Druid of the circle of stars! He comes from an unknown island (just imagine irl state of Alaska except disconnected to any continent tbh) that’s gatekeeped gaslighted girlbossed because they don’t want no colonizers or anything ofc. But Alaska grew up hearing all about the other outside lands and he wanted to go see it! So one day he ventured into the continents (the one that contains all the other states except for Hawaii) and yaddy yadda; and Alaska is actually very curious and friendly in this au because he doesn’t have the trauma of outsiders 😌 he has a pet(s?) dog with three heads (ofc, Balto Togo and Fido) to accompany him! I haven’t designed his starry forms yet btw. And also he doesn’t really know how his Druid magic works somehow 🧎 it’s mostly innate and learned behaviors and habits and traditions. It just comes naturally to him! This is the biggest difference between him and Mass with magic, think of Alaska’s Druid magic as traditional and natural, meanwhile Mass’s sorcery as artificial and learned and studied magic. So it’s hard to say who between the two is better at magic

Maine is a half-human-half-beast, he faces discrimination because of it and there aren’t much others like him in at home land. He mostly doesn’t care but the occasional person really gets to him. Not really sure why he is half beast yet tho I don’t have the lore for that. Mass keeps trying to pester Maine about learning magic, as Mass is one of the best magic users in his region (and he’s quite boastful/egotistical because of it) so he believes Maine might be really good too, and Mass wants him to be able to know it when in times of need, but Maine doesn’t really listen 🙄 though he is nimble and quite good at sneaking!

My last minor ideas is that Ginny is a great swordsman (race undecided), Mass is probably a human sorcerer, Nevada is a fae folk, Ny is a human knight, and Hawaii 🤔 some sorta sea/ocean critter maybe? Dunno yet. Anyways I hope these ideas are cool and that you guys like them! I also want to mention I probably wont post daily still, I wanna do what’s comfortable for me.