#sometimes you can see its tail and the long body but never catch glimpse of a head. i just think it's cool idk maybe i'm cringe!!

[deadrlngers]

many oc thoughts today sorry but i decided violante has a tattoo of a snake that looks absolutely normal most of the time but it is tied to her patron, usually it stays wrapped around her upper left arm but it's not unusual for it to change spot or even duplicate or even run over her whole body. it's like a mark she got when she stipulated the pact, she can feel her skin crawl when it moves (doesn't notice it as much as before tho) and sometimes it doesn't look like a tattoo at all but more of a scar that never heals

[polakina]

when you wear their clothes

call of duty headcanons #9

hc masterlist // masterlist

so writing a book is harder than i thought...like a full fucking novel. how do people do this?

rating: explicit

-

loves it

loves it every. fucking. time.

usually finds you in his shirt when he gets home from a long few weeks at work away from you

its always his favourite shirt

an old rock band tee he used to wear when he was younger and could never bring himself to get rid of

it hugged your thighs and rested just above your knees

he adored the fact that you wore his clothes

he adored it even more when he pulled it out of the wardrobe and it smelled of you

often times he couldn't help himself around you when you wore that shirt

loved to fuck you in that shirt

bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the fabric that smelled only of your perfume when he thrusted into you

lost all sense of subtlety when he noticed you didn't wear anything underneath it

oh how he knew you loved to tease him

bending over to collect the laundry off the floor, teasing him as he caught a glimpse of what was shielded between your legs

you often found yourself bent over the closest surface whenever you did that, his hands roaming over your ass, pushing the long fabric up your body, the tee bunching against the center of your spine

"wearing my clothes around the house, hmm love? god i fucking love it when you do that"

"god you look so fucking good in my shirts"

looks forward to coming home and seeing you in his clothes

its what makes him drive just that tiny bit faster to reach the driveway

forgot how to breathe the first time you wore his hoodie around the house

you were absentmindedly humming to yourself, watering the various plants and tidying the bookshelves

he always found it cute how you had to push the sleeves up your arms because they were too long

loved pulling the hood over your head and chuckling when the edge of the hood reached your nose

sometimes, when putting laundry away in the set of drawers, he'd pull that hoodie out and press his nose against the fabric, inhaling deeply to fill his nose when your scent

he found himself so aroused, so turned on when you wore his clothes

he couldn't understand why

but just as quick as he'd seen those clothes on you, they were on the floor even faster

"you should wear my clothes more often, darling"

"you've got no fucking idea how much it turns me on seeing you dressed like that"

he'd fuck you until he ran out of breath, until sweat dripped down his brows

after that one time, you always found that hoodie in your drawer instead of his, always freshly washed and folded along with your clothes

had always dreamed of this moment

he'd recently bought a new denim jacket with a fur lining for the colder months

you both liked going for walks into the nearby town during autumn and winter, to get coffee in your joint favourite cafe and catch up

but when he couldn't find his jacket , he turned to you, his heart jumping when he saw it covering your body

smiles softly every time you say "i'll just get my jacket" and walk out in that denim jacket of his

the very definition of 'what's mine is yours' and loves it

leaves it out for you by the front door on purpose so you'll grab it on the way out of the house

you like to wear it when you go out to drink because it keeps you warm when you go out for a smoke

once he's got a few drinks in him, anything's on the table

and you know it

which is exactly why you do it

being in a public setting makes him just that much bolder

his hands find his way under that jacket, pushing your dress up over your ass, the tail of the jacket just covering what could be a very explicit scene for some passersby

"fuck, lass, the things you do to me. bet you can feel it, yeah?"

"aw baby, you're cold? don't worry, i'll warm you right up. you just keep my jacket on and you'll be fine, sweetheart"

you guys are a similar size in clothes, which he secretly loves but also hates

one time you saw him wearing your hoodie and couldn't stop laughing about it for hours because he didn't even realise

was very careful picking out his clothes after that

but if you wear his? god, he doesn't know how to act. or what to say

it started out with small things

the occasional shirt, the odd jumper

but when you came downstairs one night wearing his pajamas, he couldn't stop smiling

"what you doing there, babe? is that why it took you so long upstairs? finding my clothes, huh?"

plaid, red and black pajama pants with a matching sleep shirt

he loved that look on you. a little baggy but a perfect fit

made for you

"come here, babe" he'd coax you over

he loved feeling his clothes on your skin, seeing the swell of your breasts between the collar of the shirt

"babe, you look so damn good right now"

he'd make you ride him while you wore his clothes, just pulling the pants down enough to slide his cock into you with ease

you found a lot more of his clothes lying around for convenience rather than your own, which you could never seem to locate

[robo-milky]

Sometimes, you feel like you’re being watched.

The burning gaze of a person unknown, drilling its way into your back, staring into your very soul. It used to make you uneasy, wary, even. Yet you tried your very best not to show it.

Turning around discreetly around every corner, peeking from the corner of your eye. Stealing glances at shadowed nooks and crannies, trying to pinpoint the source of your unease. Remarkably, you’ve never seen anyone, even after all this time.

Not even the smallest glimpse of fabric, or a wayward footprint. Sighing to yourself, you resume your journey. Most stalkers tend to get conceited by now. They think they’re ever so sly, that they let down their guard. They get a little cocky, if to put in it such crude terms.

Unfortunately this stalker seems to be rather skilled in their profession. Despite your annoyance, you find yourself grudgingly admiring the ability of your wonderful little “friend”. Musing to yourself, you hum softly to yourself. A sweet little tune from the depths of your memory. You’ve heard it, somewhere before, but the memory seems determined to evade you.

“À la claire fontaine m'en allant promener

J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle que je m'y suis baignée.”

(As I was walking by the clear fountain,

I found the water so lovely I had to bathe.)

You pause, struggling to remember the next line. Only to hear another voice humming softly along with you. The same sweet little tune in a deep, passionate voice.

“ (refrain) Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai”

((refrain) I've loved you for so long, I will never forget you)

The voice had the richness of fine wine, yet there was something gravelly about it. It intoxicated you, creeping deep into your heart. A siren’s voice, you mused. A wonderful sound that was simply music to your ears.

You could curl up right next to the singer and listen forever, until your body rotted away. It was mesmerising, enchanting… spiriting you away from the present like a prince in a fairy tale.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you felt a warm breath, waft against the nape of your neck. Before a pair of soft lips pressed against it, gentle and tender. A kiss, like one a gentleman would yield towards a fine lady.

A soft chuckle was laughed as your skin flushed pink, before another kiss was pressed into your skin. But like the meek light from a sunset, the sensation was gone all too soon.

A weight pressed into your shoulder. Turning around, you see a flash of blonde, before those soft, gentle lips press against yours, capturing them in a lovely kiss. A greedy one, where he took every last bit of your air from your lungs like some depraved beast.

Yet the feeling… wasn’t totally unpleasant.

In the middle of it all, you catch a raspy whisper, words spoken ever so softly, just for your ears alone.

“Happy Birthday, Cloche dear.”

Anyways happy birthday from the mage of misery🫶 wishing you a great one!!!!

[Cloche’ Birthday Bash]

UWAHHHHHH CERUUUUUUU WHAT IS THIS- CLOCHE SINGING ONLY FOR ROOK TO CONTINUE AT THE RIGHT TIME??? THE PECKS BEFORE THE MAIN EVENT?? AND THE FACT THAT THEY FINALLY KISS ON THE LIPS- I’M GONNA LOSE IT- Oof this feels like watching those really long TV shows and finally getting to watch the will-they-won’t-they couple finally get together 😭😭

Ig it’s canon now that Cloche has French nursery songs drilled into her head from Canadian elementary- they pop in there at the worst times (as someone who was once in a half French immersion school- the war flashbacks are real-) But in all seriousness I just love this detail??? I will never not be salty that we were robbed of Rook singing more

Ofc Rook goes out of his way to tail Cloche instead of going to the party like normal people 😩 What is so special that it just can’t be shown to others??? Show off PDA, cowardly huntsman- assert dominance like an alpha— 👁️👁️ /j

Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to write this!! This will now forever be my brainrot- Like holy— I can feel this in my soul, hear it, see it-

Schedule’s tight now but one day….

[cerebrumrott]

Obey Me! Shall we Date?

Brothers and Newly Dateables x MC

Synopsis: Where their pact marks would be and how they would appear...

Lucifer

His mark would appear on your throat. Below the chin and Above the adams apple is where the sigil lies but the patterns and runes that circle it seem to trickle down your throat to your collar bones. Some even tracing up along the under side of your jaw.

You would know the mark appeared here because its his favorite part of you. He would often hide his face into your neck after a stressful day kissing along your jaw, and breathing in your scent.

It's also where his hand would most often lay, whether he be mindlessly tracing patterns into your skin, tipping your face up to his for a kiss, or holding you in place for him.

The mark is gorgeous and intricate. In direct light it appears to be a plain black though every so often it will catch the light just so to reveal the color beneath. A dazzling and heavenly blue.

When your pact mark appears he can barely keep his hands to himself. Most often when passing one another is RAD he will stop you just to take a moment to admire the mark before ushering you on your way smirking as he warns you not to be late.

Mammon

His mark will appear on the back of the neck where the skull meets the spine. Its a small and tight circle almost barely noticeable with it being faded into your hair line.

He is furious at first demanding to know why his mark is so small compared to the others and why its in such a hard to see place. He proceeds to pout to himself muttering about why it couldnt be somewhere obvious like your eyes or better yet in the middle of your forehead!

Once that was out of his system he began to truly appreciate the pact mark. He was the closest to your mind because he knew what you were really thinking sometimes without you even needing to say it. He often finds his hand coming to subconsciously rest on the back of your neck petting and massaging the mark as it also soothed him. Sometimes when he is thinking too hard he will start aggressively petting your head. It was funny the first time but the look your teacher gave you when Mammon accidentally started petting you in the middle of class was less so.

Whenever you wear hoodies or scarves he doesn't hesitate to walk up behind you and pull your hood down saying its disrespectful to cover up his pact mark and that you should be displaying it to the world. One time you shaved out a little triangle at the base of your hair line to fully expose the mark and with your hair tied up high. Mammon was just beaming with pride and joy following behind you like a love sick puppy just to stare at his mark.

Leviathan

When you made a pact with Levi you actually couldnt find it for weeks. You had cheeked every inch of your skin for a mark big or small but couldn't find anything.

That was until one day while hanging out with Levi you burnt the roof of your mouth so bad you thought the skin was peeling off. Levi worried used the flashlight on his phone to look in your mouth and let out of yelp of surprise at what he found. You also panicked thinking your mouth was now beyond saving from an all too hot bite of noodles.

No instead he had found where his pact mark lied. On the roof of your mouth was a relatively large and well detailed sigil and its surrounding runes. Interwoven between these runes were two serpents. The heads of each snake ending by your front canines the tails vanishing where your wisdom teeth should be.

It took you both weeks just to find the mark and even more so discussing why it would ever appear in such an odd place. It was one night during a TSL binge that it hit you. Levi hates touching but he loves talking with you. So of course his mark would have something to do with your mouth and since a mark can't be broken it couldnt go on your lips or near them.

At this Levi brings up the point of why not the tongue then? To that you counter its because he is a shut in and never sees the light of day. You had meant it as a joke but the dawning look on his face made you realize that is exactly why it was on the roof of your mouth.

When he kisses you he likes to drag his tongue over the mark the sensation sending sparks through his body.

Satan

His mark would appear on your outer thigh. This is where his hand would always fall when you both read together in the afternoons, or when you would sit at the table beside each other.

The mark itself is made up of sharp and bold lines that take up a majority of your leg reaching down to your knee and all the way up to your hip. The center of the mark is a deep forest green that fades away into a black. Similar to Lucifer's it too has a duo chrome effect where in certain lighting a vivid green can be seen glittering through the patterns and runes of the mark.

Satan will often find himself staring at you legs throughout the day envisioning the mark beneath connecting the two of you together. Many days he doesn't even attempt to hide his blatant stares as he longs to run his hands over the mark unhindered by cloth. Perhaps later when the two of you are back at home...

Asmodeus

His mark lies above your sternum and your heart. Asmodeus often jokes that it means you are hopelessly in love with him but the truth is that he is the one hopelessly in love. The many nights before you had made your pact where he would just dream of you. His love was not that of lust but of true and honest emotion the likes he had never felt before.

His mark is small, tightly packed in the space on the chest with the most minuscule and delicate details. The shapes and runes take on an appearance akin to that of a rose bush. Beautiful blossoms encased in a myriad of thorns protecting and guarding what lies beneath.

The thorns and vines interlaced with Asmodeus' pact mark when looked at from afar takes the shape of a heart matching the marks on his own skin.

Every time he sees the petals of his mark peeking out from a shirt of yours he can't help the way his heart fills and nearly weeps in happiness. While others may try to claim he is just oogling at your chest you both know its much more than that. Its much deeper than any of that.

Beelzebub

His pact mark is on your dominant hand. He had laughed at the time when it appeared saying it was because he couldn't think of anywhere else to place it but you both knew that demons don't choose where a pact forms. It appears in a place of significance to the both of them.

It took a week before you made the connections as to why it was your dominant hand that it appeared on. Everytime you took a drink or ate you would catch a glimpse of Beels large and chunky pact mark curling over the back of your hand and over your knuckles almost trickling down your fingers. You couldn't help but laugh almost choking on your food at the time as everyone at the table looked to you like you were mad.

Beel was all smiles as you told him about your discovery his cheeks flustered red as he too realized that was indeed a great reason as to why it might appear there. In all honesty he had been truly as clueless as you as to why it was your hand but now. Now it made perfect sense and he loved it so so much.

Beel loves his pact mark with you so much he will often just take your hand in his and press a soft kiss to your knuckles, or when he is feeling mischievous he will take your hand and drag a long lick up your arm before commenting on how delicious you are.

Belphegor

Belphegors mark forms on your non-dominant hand parallel to his twins. Though rather than drift down over the knuckles it instead crawls up the arm towards the elbow. Thin and curling lines make out the shapes of clouds that encircle the runes and sigil of his pact.

You both knew why his mark appeared here and it wasn't simply to mirror his twin much to Belphie's embarrassment. He always held your hand when he napped. It got to the point he couldnt sleep if you weren't holding his hand or petting his hair.

With your mark now on full display he doesn't even attempt to hide his need to hold your hand just walking up to you and taking it into his own even when not looking for a quick nap.

Long after you have gone to bed at night he will crack an eye open making sure you really are out for the night before carefully sitting up to take your hand into his and trace over the patterns there. You most likely would never notice but when his mark hit the moonlight just so. Brilliant white speckles like stars could be seen mixed among the markings.

Interlacing your fingers together Belphegor brings your knuckles to his lips falling asleep with your hand cradled to his face hoping to wake up still holding you.

Bonus:

Diavolo

His mark is the biggest out of all the demons. Shocker. The sigil and runes sit between your shoulder blades and the massive and intricate detailing the sprout outwards from that trails upwards and over yours shoulders and down your sides like a hug from behind. In the light it has a golden shimmer to it giving it a regal apperance.

If you have a pact with Barbatos it connects to his encircling your entire back and upper legs.

The mark appears where it does because that's where his hand is just drawn to rest on you. When he hugs you it presses there to draw you in closer, When guiding you around the castle he places it there when leading you through a door way and into another, even when just standing beside you his hand drifts to settle there.

When the pact mark appears it becomes his favorite place to kiss. Often walking up behind you and leaning down to press a quick kiss to the space regardless of the clothing in the way before smiling at you happily.

Barbatos

His mark appears on your lower back. The sigil and the runes themselves and small and concentrated into your lower back. Though the curling and spiraling patterns that extend outwards from it cover most of your lower back trailing up your spine. It even extends out and down the back of your thighs only stopping when it reaches the back of your knees.

The mark appears pure black to the naked eye but to those with magical capabilities it is a sparkling mixture of metallic blacks and sparkling blues.

If you have a pact with Diavolo the two pacts seem to blend together creating a dazzling shimmering affect of the gold and the blue/black.

He often takes the time just to appreciate the beauty of your pact mark. Asking in a soft voice before pushing up the back of your shirt to run a gloved hand carefully over the lines that trail along your spine and to your lower back.

When it is just the two of you he will place his hand on your lower back and rub small circles against the place where the mark lies reassuringly.

[dreamypainter]

Flowers for Requiem (Purple Lilac)

Author's note: another in the series, but focuses on ace from yokai au! 

Characters: Kitsune!Ace Trappola, Reader

Warnings: yandere behavior (as it is a yandere au!) nothing graphic but best to be aware anyways!

Ace Trappola - Purple Lilac - love

He can still feel the first moments after he met your eyes, the primal feeling of belonging settling to his flesh and rooting the existence of love to his veins. It fed off of any sense he had beforehand, and independence until he could do nothing but kneel at your feet. (he wouldn't have it any other way.) It's an addiction he craves, one hell gladly let's destroy him. 

He remembers sometimes the days he wondered if he needed a master, the thoughts seemed sacrilegious in your presence. But as he feels the bright red rope pull into existence, hard twine unbreakable and so hot in his hold he knows that this is why yokai live and die for their master. This desire roils in his gut to give you the world, the high of being by your side was all that he needed (this was all that he'd ever know)

It's a cool day in hell when you break when the world forsakes your presence and steals you away from them. He can hear the wailing behind him, the screams of fire and brimstone, and the sobbing of blood to the earth. (he cannot listen, all he can hear is the murmur in the air with your voice. It says find me, find me.) (and he'd always do anything for you.)

He thinks this is when the cracks start to appear, like a mirror reflection mocking its owner. His sanity will never be quite the same (but it doesn't matter, not when you're gone.)

Time blends into a disconcerting mesh of hours, days, years, months as he stares into the mirror, the gate that might (must) lead him to you. (he cannot remember, he cannot care because time does not deserve to continue without you.) Sometimes he wakes up and convinces himself it's been only a few hours and your spirit still lingers in the wind. (It's still far too long.) 

His once tail multiples to five, to other kitsune it symbolizes power and pride (to him it means he's failed you for far too long.) He can feel the fire burning in his bones from the heavyweight on his back. His fur is matted and on the worst days, he debates on clawing them from his skin. (He hates what it means, he hates that you aren't here, he hates that he wasn't enough.)

It's on one of his worst days, and perhaps from his desperation welling into his chest and pouring into the gate when he finally catches a glimpse of your skin. The symphony unheard reaches its peak as your laughter sways from the mirror and coats his body in a familiar euphoria. (found you he found he found hefoundyou-.)

Disgust curls in his gut as he watches another him, unworthy skin ruffling your hair. (How dare he assume his face and treat you as if you were equal when you deserve so much better.) He doesn't deserve you, he doesn't deserve the place by your side and the rage builds up as tears well in his eyes. (and maybe he hates him just a bit more because he resembles the little one-tailed fox that held his master's cooling body and not the monster with 5 tails who locked himself away.)

Ah, but don't worry master, he'll be with you soon to erase all those who don't give you the proper reverence for existence. But first, he needs to compose himself and freshen up, he can't allow you to see the pathetic mess has become. (it'll be ok because you're here.) be sure to praise him a lot when he makes it over ok?

Bright blue eyes burn from the mirror as if to ask him what took so long?

The rope burns his skin, rough against the burns from the days he almost choked himself in search of your touch underneath the collar of the school's uniform. He relishes in the pain of it, even as it grounds him from the high of feeling you again. He can hardly see past the daze of his mind-numbing relief, but he knows better than to reach out. (to caress you, to be caressed with anything about you just to absorb the fact that you're right here again.) He can hear you stumble down the stairs and he can see the other Deuce (another unworthy existence taking the face of his own) grab your arm roughly and he almost growls. Be more gentle, he wants to scream, don't touch them like they're just anyone. Your gaze turns to him and he wonders if this is how it feels to melt. 

“Ace! You usually don't wake up before us!” Ah, it's been so long since your voice has graced his ears (he loves it, he loves you) he almost could cry. He smiles( a little dopey and he can see Grims teasing smiles perched from your shoulder). (Sneaky cat, he should have known that he would follow you anywhere.) 

“Well I decided to change something, so you know, get prepared for the day.” He encircles an arm around your waist to fit you snugly to his side, his tone is too soft but he can't bear to talk as roughly as his doppelganger. The other Deuce makes a startling noise at his action(the other Ace must not be so affectionate, honestly it's a waste he was alive-) It's been so long since he's touched you so give him just a little leeway for right now, please? Your laugh tastes sweet and he's halfway sure syrup is dripping from his ears as you tug him to a class. He'll get the others soon, but for now, just let him have this. 

[lovely-seren1ty]

Unexpectedly Gooey

You expect it to be like any other crime fighting day, but it turns out to be far from and what you find is very unexpected.

This is linked to ‘The New Spider’ and is also just a short drabble too.

Previously

2 years later…

The air whips past me as my feet carry me across the rooftop, the lights of New York reflecting off my mask, and a small smirk glinting just behind it. This has always been my favourite part of being spidey, nothing can compare to the thrill of speeding across the highest rooftop with the cool night air whipping by you. As the edge of the building gets closer and closer, the more the feel of the thrill excites me causing a shrill of excitement to leave my lips. My right foot hits the edge just before I’m leaping off of it into a back flip. I let my body free fall until the very last second and when Im about to hit the ground, I shoot out a web to swing by a little girl and her dad.

“Daddy look!” She shouts in amazement while pointing at me.

I give her a little wave before shooting out another web to head off to where the sirens are going wild. Once I web up to perch on the edge of of a building, my eyes zero in on the 5 police cars at a stand still outside of an alleyway on Grenfell. My ears focus in on the alley to try to pick up what was going on, and at first I don’t hear anything, but then the sound of… goo? Is that goo? It sounds so, ugh, slimy. My eyes twitch alerting me of the thing making its move and so I shoot my head in its direction catching a glimpse of something big and shiny black. I quickly shoot a web out to follow the thing and as I pass the police officers I offer them a salute, “I got this one boys!”

They all groan up at me in annoyance causing a chuckle to leave me, on more than one occasion they’ve shown me their aggravation for me doing their jobs and I find it quite funny. It’s been a game we’ve had going on for the past year now, see who gets the bad guy first and whoever does, owes them a coffee in the morning. More than enough times it’s been me, and seeing how this is going, it’ll be me once again.

I hop from roof to roof right on its tail, it is huge and alien like, and I was definitely right about the goo. The thing looks like if you were to touch its, skin?, it would stick to your fingers and never want to leave.

“Where are you going?!” A muffled mans voice shouts in panic from up ahead.

“We are being followed!” A deeper, more animalistic, voice shouts back. Then it’s head is looking back at me, but I don’t get a good look because I’m shooting a web at it so that I can fling over it’s head. I land in front of the thing in a typical hero pose, I tut at the thing while shaking my finger and slowly standing up. “I don’t think so gooey.” The things big white eyes bore into me making me shiver a little, it almost feels like it can see into my soul. It makes a deep sound while sticking out its long salivating tongue, my eyes squint in disgusted, “ugh ew, put that thing away man!” I shout at it while shivering at the thought of having to touch it.

Then before I know it, my eye twitches just before it’s gooey limb shoots out towards me. I step to the side easily, “really?” It does it again and I do the same which seems to frustrate it. “Now come on, is that really necessary?” It doesn’t reply and instead this time it tries to go for my legs, but I just do a cartwheel out of the way and jokingly look at my covered hand in boredom. It’s sometimes fun to toy with the enemy, I chuckle as I hear him have a fit.

“Venom, stop it! Leave it be, she is one of the good ones!” The muffled man shouts once again causing me to look around questioningly. Where is he? I think to myself.

“No! She looks delicious!” Venom shouts back.

“I don’t care you big idiot! We don’t eat good people!” That man shouts again. Okay seriously, what the fuck?

“Okay, one; I’m flattered you think that of me, and two; where the hell is that mans voice coming from?” I ask in bewilderment. He or it doesn’t say anything and instead the goo on the left side of its face slowly peels back to reveal a man. The eyes on my suit widen in amazement, “wow that’s so cool!”

“Sorry about him,” he grumbles out, “the parasite has a mind of its own.”

“Parasite?!” Venom shouts before folding in on the guy and all I can do is watch in amazement. I’ve only ever come across human burglaries, so seeing what I assume to be an alien just a few feet away from me, is pretty awesome. It’s head pops out of the guys back to face him, “you, Eddie, are a loser!” It says before knocking heads with him. He shouts in pain before they’re both going at each other with me standing there awkwardly.

“Uh, guys?” No answer.

“Hello…” they still continue to argue and I roll my eyes.

“Okay, that’s it!” I quickly shoot two webs at their mouths to shut them up. I look at them expectantly while they glare at each other, and then Eddie tries ripping off the webbing, but struggles. Sighing, I walk over to him to help take it off, but once I do he’s all of a sudden transforming into venom and looming over me. His large hand encircles me before I can react and I gasp, “hey buddy, wow!” I continuously try to peel his fingers off me as he raises me up close to his face, but I can’t. I can hear Eddie cursing at him to put me down, but he doesn’t listen and instead brings me close to his face. For a second I think he’s going to try to take a chomp on my head as his mouth widens, but instead his slimy tongue licks the side of my face.

“Ugh! Ew, put me down this instant! That was so uncalled for, put me down. Put me down! Put me down!” I say repeatedly while smacking at his chest. Venom lets out a deep chuckle, “you taste delicious niblit.”

He sets me down on the ground gently and I let out a huff. Today is definitely not going the way I expected and I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing as I stand here staring at the two. My tingle doesn’t warn me of danger and so that could only mean they aren’t necessarily bad. Though, why would the cops be after them?

Just as I’m about to ask them of the reasoning, my spider senses go off causing me to turn my head in the direction. “Whelp, sorry boys, duty calls. It was… lovely meeting you, but I have to go. Stay outta trouble or I’ll have to come for you again.”

I give them a wink, which makes venom lick his teeth, before webbing off towards the screams of a woman. The last thing I hear from them is, “I like this one,” before I’m out of range.

I have a feeling I’ll be seeing those two more often than not. I just hope I’m doing as good of a job as Peter did… what if I just let a world level threat leave my grasps? What if it destroys New York? What if it harms innocent people?

I shake my head, I need to just trust my instincts.

[mxvladdy]

True Form- Mammon

The boys are cute in their devil forms I’ll give them that. But I want something more monstrous lol. Here are some headcannons of mine of what the boyos look like outside of their glamours. 

I’m not doing the gang in any particular order, all will be accounted for in due time. Just my favorites come first :p

No, I regret nothing and yes I would still 10000% smooch the monster.

Next up: Asmodeus 

Mammon

- Interestingly enough, his human glamour shows none of the wounds he bears from the celestial war. But his true form? It is a testament to his strength and a stark reminder that he is the second strongest of the cardinal sins. 

- Mammon takes the shape of a great winged beast. The original number of his wings have been lost to time but old records speak of ever shifting numbers. Should he lose one two would grow in it’s place type deal. All that remains of their splendor are three mismatched ones on his back. Since they are not even he is incapable of flying, but he can still glide for quite some distance and with tremendous speed. 

- He resembles a mixture of a crow and Strix. He has four large taloned feet that can carve through rock and slice though even demon flesh with ease. His multitude of eyes are bright and simply mesmerizing. Like the twinkling of stars in the night sky. His eyes are the only physical trait left of him from his time as an angel. 

- Old scars pepper his hide under his oily sheen feathers. When he shifts they flash the briefest hints of silver and faded pink. But, the most noticeable wound on him is his beak. The upper mandible is broken, the front half blasted away leaving behind a jagged mess of bone. The magic used against him makes it impossible for him to regrow it. He remembers clearly the blow that marred him. It is one of his recurring nightmares. 

- He keeps a den, hidden from the other brothers deep in the Devildom forests where he hoards all his most precious items from over the millennia. Whenever things get too much at home he will come here to lay amongst his treasures and reminisce of simpler times. 

Mini fic 

Mammon could feel the need brewing deep within him. The gnawing emptiness slowly eroding at his psyche till it was all-encompassing. His brothers possessions calling to him like a sirens song day in and day out. Goldie simply wasn’t going to be enough this time. He needed his cave, his little sanctuary, carved out in secret so many years ago.  

He sighs lovingly. Just imagining the feel of currencies from empires long since fallen and priceless treasures offered to him in sacrifice under his talons feet was euphoric. His second skin ripples under his glamour in anticipation. Humming under his breath, Mammon takes the steps to the main door two at a time. In his excitement, he almost collides with the latest item of his attention. 

“Oi!” He barks, skidding to a halt in front of you. He makes a grab for your shoulders stopping you before you toppled down the flight of stairs.  He can’t help the smile forming on his lips to match yours. His human looks up from the files overflowing in their arms. The emptiness inside rattles its cage. Add them to the horde. His molars crack under the strain of his clenched jaw.

“Oh! Sorry, Mammon! It’s kinda hard to see around all this.” You smile sheepishly, scooting off to the side for him to pass. “Are you well?” You notice his stiff posture, hands clenching, and unclenching over your school uniform. He hadn’t let you go yet. 

Unsurprising really, he was one of the clingier brothers. Not that you minded. It was nice sometimes to feel so wanted. Though it was different this time. You could feel the ebb and flow of his magic rippling in the close space. Usually, he had the best control suppressing it in your company. It would have been terrifying if it had been another one of the brothers. Last time one of them ‘lost their cool’ had ended badly for you. “Mammon?”

“What?” He twitches, head jerking to an odd angle. His eyes turn sharp as he looks at you appraisingly. Hungrily. “Oh right, sorry.” The demon releases you. “I’m fine, just need to stretch my legs is all.” He pushes past, for once trying not to give into temptation. 

“Can I join? I need a break from all this paperwork. I know I said I’d help Lucifer, but damn.” You laugh placing the stack down on an end table. He chokes on the idea. Yesss~ his inner beast coos in delight. You were making this too easy. He could keep you all to himself, tucked away where no one else could have you. Lucifer would never know.

“I-I don’t want the company.” He grits out, rolling his shoulders in agitation. At himself or you, only the devil would know. “Ain’t a place for little humans.” His response is short and sharp. He could feel his talons growing under his nail beds. Mammon hisses in irritation, he didn’t want to scare you away. Not after everything else you’ve been through. 

“Oh…” It hurts him to hear you so dejected like this. Perhaps- you had handled a lot so far. One more thing won’t kill you. 

“Look-promise not to tell and you can join.” Mammon turns scratching at his neck. "I don't need my brothers knowing where I go. Our little secret?" 

“Our little secret.” You take his hand with a coy grin. 

It wasn’t a long walk. It was pleasant your warm hand wrapped in his. The connection quelled some of the avarice brewing inside. He approaches the edge of the cliff with satisfaction. The precipice looks down into the wilds of the Devildom. It was a beautiful sight really. The heavy gloam of eternal twilight cast a purple haze over the treetops. In the distance, the downtown district twinkle. Mammon exhales happily into the breeze. The wind was picking up. Good. 

Mammon turns to you taking in your apprehension. You lean over the side, looking down into the abyss. "This isn't much of a walk." You chuckle nervously eyeing the deadly drop. A strong gush upsets your balance. Squeaking, you grip onto his sleeve. Your little human nails dig into the leather of his jacket. Cute. 

"Not done yet." He sheds his glasses and coat folding them neatly by the ledge. "It ain't much farther, but it is a ride." He could shred the pants and shirt. Luci owed him a new wardrobe as is. Stretching his arms over his head he grunts. His remaining wings practically vibrate in anticipation. "Promise not to scream?"

"Scream?" Your question is lost in the ruffle of feathers and creak of bone. You gasp back away from the massive beast in front of you. Mammon stood beside you, his body almost blending in with the darkness around you. Dozens of eyes blink owlishly at you, they glimmer like diamonds. They are bright and breathtaking, the depth in them almost sucking you in. He clicks the remnants of his razor-sharp beak expectantly. "Mammon?" You approach, palms outstretched. 

He cocks his head to almost disappearing into the night as he closes all his eyes at your touch. He adjusts himself as you pet down his large head. Overly carful of where your hand was to make sure you are not in danger of cutting yourself with his damaged beak. "How many more layers to you brothers are there?" He laughs in relief, cawing loudly as you bury your hands in his feathers. "Ok. So what's the plan?"

Mammon crouches low bumping his shoulder to you. You take the hint and clamber onto his broad back. Shifting awkwardly he squawks as you pull some feathers. “Sorry! Sorry!” He turns and pecks at your hand gently. Pulling at your sleeves, he makes sure you have a good grip at the base of his neck. Feeling you settle he leaps. 

Bounding for the ledge, his strong wings flex and catch the wind. He glides on the gust with practiced ease. Years of plummeting and failure made this success all the sweeter with you there as he carries them higher. He could feel your laughter through his body. Your shouts of elation get swallowed by the howling around them. Oh, how he revels in it. He wants more of this.

The flight was quick. Before long he descends, unfurling his legs as he lands. Long talons cut into stone as he grasps the side of the cliff. Effortlessly he slinks up the side. The hard coils of muscle on his back and legs bunch and pull under you body. The sinuous roll of it causes you to grip him tighter lest you fall off. He purrs at the feel of you clinging to him. Perhaps he should keep you here, all to himself. Mammon reaches his destination and allows you to slide off of him to look about. 

The mouth of the cave was cast in heavy shadows from surrounding trees. The moon covered by clouds flashing briefs glimpses of deeper in. You follow as the Great Mammon lumbers past you to delve deeper.  Jogging after him, you place a hand on his flank trusting him to guild you. What did he have here? This looks nothing like a place Mammon would go to. He chirps and caws trying to talk though it was impossible to understand as he lead you down deeper. His tail swooshing excitedly behind him. It was sweet, his palpable joy rubbing off on you.

As you reach the inner depth of the cave you left go of him to shield your eyes. The sudden light accosting you. The inner cave was huge, eternal sconces lighting as he entered to reflect off of a dazzling array of items. Mammon crows smugly leaving you to gape at the entrance. 

The demon crawls into a nest made of gold and bolts of expensive fabrics.  Yawning widely, he wiggles himself deeper into the coins. Large crystalline eyes drooping pleasantly at the warmth of his cave. While he dozes you walk around the large treasure trove. You run your hands over no doubt priceless jewels and sets of armor. Clothes and jewelry litter the floor as maps and pieces of art cover most of the walls and ceiling. Their golden frames glowing from the light of the sconces making the space glow richly. He even had some tomes stacked neatly in the corner, each cover embossed with gold and silver. You pick one up intrigued by the design of the cover.

"You sure you were a dragon in a former life? " You ask flipping though a few pages before putting it back. Mammon snorts rolling his eyes. You grin eyeing his bed of treasures. "Can I join you?" It looked rather comfy and he obviously wasn't going to be moving anytime soon. Knowing Mammon there was no way you could leave this place without his help. So might as well get comfortable.

Mammon is silent for a moment before clicking his beak, wings opening to invite you in. You scramble up close grabbing a few stray pillows as you go. Making a mini nest of your own beside him you tuck yourself in. 

If a bird could smile he would be beaming at the feel of your body resting against his feathered side. Draping a wing over you he settles in for a nap.

Yes, you would be the perfect final piece to his collection.

[ao3bronte]

when chaos reigns [the sirens come to play]

A Merman AU. (Rated T with some suggestive language.) Now on AO3! READ PROLOGUE - PART 2 HERE!

[Part 3]

Covid-19 forced a lot of people to stay stuck in their homes until they inevitably went mad and uploaded cringe videos of themselves dancing to Blinding Lights on TikTok. But Adrien Agreste, having been unable to leave his underwater ivory tower since the mysterious disappearance of his mother, really doesn’t know any different. 

“Final question. Who was the fifth king of the Sea of Okhotsk?”

Slumped against his seagrass cushion, Adrien sighs into his palm. “The Sea of Okhotsk doesn’t have a king. They have clans and elders.”

“Excellent,” Nathalie Sancoeur responds, wordlessly motioning for him to stop slouching. “I think that concludes political history for this evening. Onto diplomacy—”

“Can you give me a minute?” Adrien tries not to give away his intentions as he glances through a porthole. “I think Father is home and I’d like to greet him.”

Nathalie raises a brow. “He won’t change his mind, you know.”

“Didn't we just talk about erosion?” With a firm flick of his tail, Adrien makes his way towards his usually barred bedroom door. “It works on rocks, so why can’t it work on him?”

“Your father is not a rock, Adrien.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Adrien murmurs under his breath, leaving anyway. He snakes his way through the narrow halls of his palatial home towards Father’s atelier and hopes he doesn’t miss him; he rarely sees Father at all these days...sometimes it feels like Adrien hardly knows him at all.

Especially when he’d announced that Adrien was going to mate with his betrothed, whether he liked it or not!

“Good afternoon, Father.” Adrien straightens and bows his head in greeting, swallowing painfully as his father peers down at him from his pedestal. “I’m thankful that you made it back home safely.”

His father sighs. “If you’re here to argue with me once again—”

“But Father!”

“You are NOT getting out of this arrangement! I already told you!”

“Please, Father. Hear me out—”

“I have no intention of letting you leave this kingdom,” his father rages, slashing his hand through the water with enough force to shake the entire structure around them. “Everything you need is right here where I can keep an eye on you. I will not have you outside in this dangerous world.”

“It's not dangerous, Father. I'm always stuck in here by myself. Why can't I leave our home? Why can’t I explore the Ligurian Kingdom and make friends just like everyone else?”

“Because you’re not like everyone else! You are my son! You are the heir to my—” his father stops himself and pauses to gather his composure, his eyes ablaze with discontent. “Adrien, the kingdom of the Tyrrhenian Sea is relying on me to unite our families. You don’t want to disappoint an entire kingdom, do you?”

Adrien’s shoulders cave. “No.”

“Then don’t continue to disappoint me. Return to your studies immediately and do not trouble me with this matter again.” His father turns and ushers him away with a shoo of his webbed fingers. “Nathalie, where is the sentimonster you promised for the administrator? M. Damoclès has wronged me for the last time.”

“It will be finished this evening,” Nathalie responds, her fingers gently toying with the enamel brooch hanging from her neck. 

“When I hired you as my assistant, you assured me that you could complete tasks on time.”

“I did.” Nathalie flicks her crimson tail in irritation. “And I will continue to serve your interests in a timely fashion. Is there anything else I can do for you at this time, sir?”

The imposing interim leader of the Ligurian Kingdom simply pinches the bridge of his nose. “That is all. Ensure Adrien’s bedroom is secured immediately. And get on land as soon as possible to finish your spellcasting; I didn’t hire a sea witch for her to rest on her laurels.”

“Of course, your Regency.”

~

“You’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

Nathalie tries not to smirk as her sheepish charge continues to wriggle his way through the barred porthole in his bedroom. “That depends entirely on what you plan on doing with your freedom, providing you can get your dorsal fin uncaught.”

“I’m—” Adrien grunts, desperately trying to shimmy his backside through the stone barricade. “—I want to go back to where you took me before!”

Nathalie quirks an eyebrow as he finally manages to free his dorsal fins and slither outside his bedroom relatively unscathed. “Humans are not to be trifled with.” 

“Says the sea witch who can transform into one!”

“My Miraculous doesn’t exactly work underwater.” Nathalie explains, raising a sculpted brow. “I don’t suppose you plan on visiting the grotto?”

Adrien nods in earnest. “The flowers are out and I wanted to see them again! And there aren’t any humans there, so I’ll be fine!”

Flower pollen, of course, is like catnip to merpeople. One whiff of the stuff and it’s Boogie Nights for anyone with a tail and a propensity for caterwauling sea shanties. 

“Be back by nightfall.” Nathalie tells him, having orchestrated this escape since the very beginning. She watches him swim away as fast as his tail will take him none the wiser, and grazes her nails down the curved edges of her Peacock Miraculous, the likes of which holds the immeasurable magic of a mermaid on a mission that will surely bring the Mediterranean to its knees.

[Part 4]

For all of Marinette’s near compulsive need to prepare for things ahead of time, it can be assumed that she is most definitely not prepared to find a merman scooching his body up on shore like a sea lion and shoving his face into an oleander bush. 

And her screams of shock and horror most certainly confirm it.

“Aaaaaauuugh!!!!!” Marinette, having just crawled through a small cavern to a grotto to investigate the golden gleam, falls flat on her face yet again. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

The merman, equally as frightened, shrieks and rolls backwards as ungainly as one can when you’ve just been caught shoving your face into an oleander bush. She catches a brief glimpse of his face — speckled and smeared with golden pollen — before he promptly flings himself back into the sea.

Marinette is horrified. Astounded. Dumbfounded! Merpeople are impossible to find and even more impossible to survive! And she just—it was right in front of her! Green and gold and—she saw it! With her very own eyeballs! It was there! Huffing flowers! 

For the second time in almost as many minutes, Marinette sits down and stares dumbly at the waves.

Merpeople kill humans for fun...and she just survived! Holy crap!

Marinette keeps one eye on the watery mouth of the grotto and the other on her surroundings. She never would have spotted the grotto had she not performed the act of becoming a human pancake back out on the main beach; the entrance to this cave is so small and so hidden that Marinette wonders if anyone has ever discovered it before. It’s about the size of a lorry and covered in moss and spindly vines that meander up towards the small window of sunlight at the top. The limestone walls are strangely warm here, radiating heat and spurring the growth of the plants that are blooming as if it were summertime. Even the sand is different here; startlingly white with speckles of black and grey, the tiny shoreline creeps down into a cerulean underground cavern alight with bioluminescence.

It’s magnificent, but she’s not safe here. “Are you still there?”

Marinette nearly enters cardiac arrest when a mop of golden hair suddenly pops up from the vibrant depths. He heard her? Can he understand her?

The merman blinks. “Uhhh… I…”

“Are you waiting for me to leave? Because I can leave,” Marinette says, pointing towards the tiny crevice she’d just crawled through, “But then I’d have to take my eyes off of you and then you could drag me into the ocean and drown me and then my grandmother would be looking all over for me and then the police would have to come here and try to find my dead body and my parents, they’re stuck in Paris because of the coronavirus and—”

“—No, no! I was just trying to—” The merman disappears under the water for a moment, only to emerge at the edge of the beach. “—I didn’t mean to scare you! You scared me!”

Marinette screeches and scurries backwards to create some more distance between them. “How do you know how to speak French?!”

“How do you know how to speak Nereid?”

“I asked you first!”

“Well, I don’t speak French. I speak Nereid!”

“What’s that, merman language?”

“Yeah.” The merman cocks his head. “What’s French? Human language?”

“Well, for some humans, yes.” Marinette crosses her arms across her chest and narrows her eyes. “Wait a minute...are you making fun of me?”

The merman flashes his gleaming set of triangular teeth just long enough for Marinette to notice that he has not just one row of razor-sharp teeth in his mouth, but two. “I wouldn’t dream of causing a commocean.”

Marinette’s nose wrinkles at the pun. “Now you really are making fun of me.”

“I mean, maybe.” The merman winks. “It’s kind of fun seeing you turn pink. Is that a human thing too?”

“I’m not turning pink.” Marinette harrumphs, turning her shoulder away from him. “And humans turn pink because...because they’re warm. I’m just warm, that’s all.”

“It’s probably because of your...” The merman gestures to her raincoat and jeans. “Do you need help getting out of them?”

With all of the poise of a particularly erratic squirrel, Marinette simply splutters. “What?!” 

“Well, you must be trapped in them or you would have taken them off already. We get stuck in your human garbage all the time, it’s awful.” The merman opens his mouth and taps against one of his larger teeth with his fingernail. “Here, I can cut them off for you if you want—”

“You’re not coming anywhere near me with those things!” Marinette recoils, scooching towards the oleander bushes on her bottom. “You could rip me apart!”

“I’m not going to kill you!” The merman exclaims with a huff. “Besides, if I was hungry, I’d have eaten you already!”

Marinette’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. “You eat people?!”

“Sometimes.” The merman shrugs as if it’s no big deal, “Haven’t you ever had human fingers before? Crunchy, yet satisfying.”

“No! That’s disgusting!”

The merman’s straight face dissolves into laughter at Marinette’s expression of utter horror. “Now, I’m actually making fun of you!”

“Well, it’s not funny!” Marinette grabs a handful of sand and hurls it at him, dusting his face and hair. He continues to giggle at her expense and Marinette has had just about enough of him. “Stop it!”

“Sorry!” The merman grapples to get himself together. “I just wanted to show you that I’m funny, I swear! I've never really been out on my own before and I've never had friends. It's all sort of new to me.”

“Joking about eating people is not how you make friends,” Marinette grumbles, still keeping a wary eye on the merman before her until the implications of his words catch up with her ears. “Wait, you don’t have any friends? How come?”

“Father doesn’t let me out of my home...ever.” The merman rubs the back of his head nervously. “I kind of escaped to come see the flowers, which is how I met you!”

“Is...is that normal for merpeople?” 

“To come see the flowers? Yeah, we love flowers!”

Marinette shakes her head. “No, I meant the ‘being stuck in your house’ thing. Why don’t you...you know, swim around and, uh...talk to people?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The merman waves her off, looking a little uncomfortable before turning his attention back to her. “What does matter is that we can be friends! Would you like to be friends?” The merman shimmies forwards with excitement and thrusts his hand right under her nose. “I’m Adrien! Pleased to make your aquantance.”

Marinette looks at his outstretched hand and hesitates. “You’re not going to pull me into the water and drown me, are you?”

“I’m not a dolphin, you know, I have manners.” Adrien huffs, hoisting himself further up onto the sand bank. “See? Only my tail fins are in the water now, I couldn’t pull you in even if I tried.”

Marinette carefully reaches out and gently clasps his hand, revelling in the strange texture of his skin. He cups his other hand over hers and she mimics the gesture, smiling a little as he squeezes his fingers and then shakes once before letting go. “There. Now we’re friends!”

“I don’t know about that,” Marinette says, still keeping a wary eye on the merman in front of her. He settles back down on his elbows and Marinette’s eyes are drawn to his chest as he brushes the granules of ivory sand from his sides, his muscles clenching at the movement. “You’re a merman and I’m a human. We aren’t supposed to be friends.”

[NEXT PART]

[tf2strategist]

Starter headcanons!

We’re beginning with some Engie headcanons!

ENGINEER

Despite his profession, Engie is probably the sweetest team member.

Basically the team mom. Everyone loves when he and Pyro are on cooking duty for the week, because you’re guaranteed to have the best barbecued, baked, fried, or buttered foods in your life.

Dell knew from the beginning that Scout and Spy were related. He was shocked when few other members had noticed the fact, and kept it to himself.

Because of this, fatherly instinct kicked in and he treats Scout like he would a son. Scout may not respect his inventions, but Dell knows he won’t hesitate to come talk to him if he needs a shoulder to lean on.

Tell an incorrect fact anywhere in the base, and Engie will BOLT to correct you. This man has what can only be described as a spidey sense. He could be in his workshop with the door closed, you could whisper, on the other side of the base on another floor, and he would just... know.

The best way to get Engineer to sleep is to use this fact to your advantage. Utter a clearly untrue fact in his room, and watch him come running.

As amiable as Engie is, he’s still a mercenary, and a cold blooded killer at that. He’s painfully aware that he appears a friendly face to all, and is basically a child magnet when disguised as a civilian, since he’s required to ditch the glove and hat, but refuses to take off the goggles.

He’s not opposed to telling stories to the brave little ankle biters, or showing off his robotic arm (albeit shyly). But he tries to throw in a good lesson or two, or spook ‘em off after a while with his whole cyborg shtick.

In the end, Engineer just wants to make sure those kids are inspired to get an education, then take a path that ain’t his own.

Imagining the future; a public statement (or rather questioning) about why 39,000 students across the entirety of the United States, all majoring in some form of engineering, cited their inspiration as varying descriptions of a cyborg man who wanted them to share their knowledge to make the world a better place. Occasionally, Dell is approached at bars or random locations by adults and children alike, sheepishly asking if they’re the cyborg man they met when they were little, or that their big brothers and sisters told stories of. All he gives is a knowing smile and a handshake.

Engineer can’t sit still for very long. He’s always tinkering with something or fidgeting with anything that could be used for scrap or built into something else.

An insomniac, Dell has trouble falling asleep at night thanks to his constant urge to work. He won’t rest until he’s finished with his latest idea, or until he passes out from exhaustion.

The other mercs usually have to carry him to his room after a few nights in a row of this behavior, especially if he had an off day on the field because of it. Even then, there’s no guarantee you won’t find him sitting up in his bed, scribbling down his dream inventions before they fade from memory, muttering equations under his breath.

Sews stuffed animals for pyro and any other merc who wants one. Each mercenary has at least one, even spy and scout, since they were given as gifts a long time ago. Scout would never admit it, but he keeps it under his bed and cuddles it when he has a particularly bad nightmare. Spy has it on display on his shelf, perfectly polished. If he gets drunk and emotional, you’ll probably find a sobbing Frenchman wrapped around a big soft plushie on the floor.

The stuffed animals:

Scout: a little white rabbit with black buttons for eyes, and a tiny fitted headset with a mini hat perched on top. It’s velcro.

Spy: a black cat plushie with blue buttoned eyes and checkered overalls. It has a blue bow tie.

Sniper: A green felt and fabric chameleon. Has a lime -> blue -> red satin texture gradient on its tail and large black beads for eyes.

Soldier: Just. An eagle. Photorealistic eagle texture filled with stuffing. He knows.

Engie: Teddy! Cuddles teddy bear. Big bear. Very soft, very good.

Medic: a recreation of Archimedes with large cotton wings. Has a patch of red on its chest and the buttons used for its eyes are a very subtle cherry color, almost unnoticeable unless you see it in good lighting. When not being held at night, you can occasionally catch a glimpse of the birds cuddled up to it in the day, save for Archimedes himself, who keeps trying to fight it.

Heavy: Were you expecting a bear? Nope! It’s a salmon. Being filled with stuffing of course, but has a soft wooden spine linked together by string. Clatters together softly like chimes sometimes when shaken, but if you do you’re getting socked in the face by heavy. The little wooden framework allows it mobility, so that heavy can comfortably hold it during his nightmares without waking up with stiff shoulders.

Demo: a penguin with an eyepatch. About the height of his forearm with a mix of a sort of softer denim texture for the body and polyester for the spots and patterns. Has a red chiffon bow tie attached to it, and the one eye it has is a big white bead to match the accents. Definitely has a tiny scrumpy bottle. Also definitely not haunted. Certainly, without a doubt.

Pyro: The very first was a balloonicorn! A few others were based off of pyros crayon sketches of pyroland, but there’s just too many to describe! Engie can’t get enough of making the little firebug clap their hands in excitement and endearment after a bad day or stormy weather, having gifted them another soft toy for their collection.

But to pyro, Engie is the best stuffed animal of them all. Passing on the battlefield? Hug. Working in the garage? Hug. Underneath a vehicle performing maintenance? Damn right they’re getting under there somehow! Because Engie is the only one who seems to understand what they see, what they say, how they act.

Hey look buddy,

He’s an engineer.

He solves problems.

[theharellan]

Written for Stories of Thedas Volume II. Pairing: Solas & Cole (platonic) Prompt: Library

Masks upon masks. The Winter Palace is strange to Cole, who attends at the Inquisitor's bidding and finds himself at a loss for how to help. Solas comes upon him with ideas for how to cope with the deadly Game.

Read on AO3.

Couples spin on the dance floor, turning and turning, going nowhere and everywhere at once. Their heads fill with daydreams, one gazes into her partner’s eyes through their masks, imagining the hidden corners they could lose themselves in. Another, all he sees is the faint outline of a knife in his companion’s skirts, so all-consuming he almost forgets the steps. A third, their eyes bore holes into the other’s heads, hate springs from love eternal. His eyes dart from one couple to the next, glimpses into minds fraught with thoughts of a Game no one ever really wins.

He breathes in and feels the air catch in his throat. Honeyed words mask the taste of poison, cold compassion, they understand only so they can hurt. It isn’t right, it isn’t fair, it isn’t–

In the blink of an eye he’s in the library, surrounded by pages that whisper the words of yesterday. Not so sharp against his skin. Below, a dead man in the shape of a Warden pretends to stare at a plaque, praying no one will look at him twice, fearing they might see his valourous wings are clipped. It’s still a hurt, a tangle, but he’s trying to help. Cruelty does not become him. He lets out a breath he forgot he was holding, hands coming together to pull at his sleeves.

Oh.

He had forgotten about the uniform. The fabric doesn’t come away at his touch, no matter how hard he tugs.

And he misses his hat.

Cole wonders how long he will wait here, alone with his panic clawing at his throat. In the Spire he spent months isolated, forgotten by all save the one who no longer cares to know him. Suddenly the soft, inviting lights which illuminate the halls of the Winter Palace seem as cold as the dark cells they had kept Rhys in, clapped in irons for crimes Cole committed. Anxiety squeezes every inch of him. He counts the beats of the music that drifts from the distant dance hall, just to assure himself only minutes have passed since he came here.

A door opens behind him, and he nearly jumps into shadow, the Veil waiting to envelop him, drawing him from prying eyes, but a familiar face waits on the other side. “Solas!” he gasps, relieved and ashamed that he had doubted, but grateful most of all.

Solas shuts the door behind him, turning the handle so the latch doesn’t make a sound. “I thought I might find you here.”

That gives Cole pause. He hadn’t known he would find himself here, until it happened. “But I don’t read.” The books here are newer than those kept in the Pit, some hum with the occult, others recount poems about the shape of a woman’s hips, but he still doesn’t read. There isn’t a question in his tone, but Solas hears it, all the same.

“This place can be overwhelming for anyone, even without accounting for your abilities. Books carry meaning, but without eyes upon them those meanings are static. Far easier to take in,” he answers as he walks towards him, gait stiffer than usual. His feet had forgotten what it was like to wear shoes. Solas has been quiet that evening, quieter than usual, the stem of a glass glued between his fingers, bottomless. He lets his hat do his talking for him, the Drasca’s dissent lived on atop his head. He stops beside Cole, leaning upon the marble rail, gloved hands bearing weight. His eyes turn upon him, no brimmed hat to hide behind. “Are you all right?”

He pulls on his sleeves, this time he thinks he feels a thread come loose. “Yes... No? There are two faces for every person.” The Left Hand smiles and laughs, she comes alive, but inside it’s cold and cruel. The rose withers upon the vine. He finds the thread with his finger and pulls, but it doesn’t break. It unravels, further and further, if he keeps going his whole sleeve will be an unspooled mess on the floor. “I don’t know which to look at. I-I don’t know how to help.”

Solas reaches out, subduing his worrying hands with a single, steady touch. A gentle gesture, despite the blood which stains them. Sometimes they do not seem so different from his own, they remember the bodies because forgetting would be worse. Killer’s hands, but there is no deceit in their tenderness. Solas wraps the thread around his finger, string bright white against his brown glove, and he tugs. It snaps, suddenly brittle, and falls to the floor to be swept away by a servant who will never know they were here. A comforting hand is placed deliberately on his shoulder blade, and Cole stills. He inhales, eyes snapping from the abandoned thread to Solas. There is kindness in his eyes, quiet assurance. He has seen this all before and he will make it easier to bear. So many tricks just to make it through a day, an evening, an hour. “You will not find much compassion in these affairs, any help you offer will be perceived as duplicitous, a means to get what it is you desire.”

“Then I… shouldn’t help?”

He hesitates, delaying his answer with a moment’s deliberation. “The choice is ultimately yours, but their comfort should not come at the cost of your peace of mind.” His hand slowly falls from his back as Cole turns his advice around in his head. “While we are waiting for the Inquisitor to call upon us, rather than mend the missing pieces in strangers’ lives, perhaps I may help you.”

“Help me?” He searches Solas’ eyes for answers, compassion seeking solace in pride. They are quiet, revealing only as much as intended. Cole chips at the cracks in the rock and hopes for water to spring forth, but he guards his sorrows like a wolf guards her den.

“Would you care to learn how to dance?”

A dozen thoughts pile into the spirit’s head, most too quick to catch, but he grasps one by the tail. “Do spirits dance?”

Solas claims spirits are people, and each day that belief is realer in Cole’s own mind, reinforced by the Herald and Solas himself. He need not change to be loved, or understood, he need only be himself. But if he is a person, then he is not a person the way Varric is, or Cassandra, or even Solas. There’s a touch of sadness in the corner of his smile, as though he is sorry the question needs to be asked. “I suppose it falls to us to answer together,” he replies patiently with an offered palm.

Uncertain how it will help, but ready to trust that it can, he takes Solas’ hand.

“Listen closely,” he says, but he declines to speak again. Cole’s instruction takes a different turn, a manicured glimpse through a window into Solas’ soul.

“Delicate hand folded like a paper crane between my shoulders, her eyes shine like the gold she deals in when I take to the dance.” Josephine had poured so much into tonight, all her smiles and favours, anything that will see the Inquisition prevail. “She didn’t think you would be asked to dance, but she was afraid if you didn’t learn, someone would.”

“Her time was likely better spent elsewhere,” he agrees, “though nothing would have given me more pleasure tonight than refusing one of Celene’s court. Listen again, parse the thoughts which cloud the memory and see how we move.” Cole nods, and concentrates. He remembers the palm tucked in the valley between Solas’ shoulders, and he moves his there. His feet, too, he moves in line with his hips. It’s strange, focusing upon his own body and the space it takes up in the world. Lighter now that he has chosen compassion, but still very much real, empty only in the seconds the air rushes from the chambers of his lungs.

He feels eyes upon him, questioning, searching for confirmation before the music dares move them. “I’m ready.”

When Solas steps forward, Cole steps back, like they’re two puppets on the same musical string. He clips his strides, travelling farther faster than Solas can hope to without magic to carry him there. Awkward at first, but with each beat he feels him join with the dance that exists in his head. Old melodies, half-remembered, play in distant memories. Like the sky he knew it, once, but made himself forget. Dancing wasn’t always this way, was it?

Solas remembers. Feet too full of motion to keep his thoughts safe in his head, they spill onto the fabric of the world where Cole breathes them like his own. Memories of moving on a dancefloor to a familiar tune, swaying with the stars themselves, spinning until they parted from the earth. He swells with pride, a beast alive beneath his ribcage, it thrives and fights and inspires. When they dance the heavens and the earth move, and an empire holds its breath. It fears what dread the dawn will bring, but his People find freedom in the impromptu steps.

“What are you two doing here?” A voice snaps the string. Halamshiral looks different than it did heartbeats ago, all the magic hidden in dark corners (all the elves, too). When Cole turns to see the servant who disturbed them, he’s surprised to see a bare face behind her plain mask, and a second later cannot recall why.

With silver eyes she stares at him, unblinking. “She can see me.”

“A consequence of our dance, I believe.” Yes, he can feel it. Solas fades with each passing second, growing distant as his hand falls from his waist. “It will fade in a moment.” He speaks as though she is not there, but he’s waiting. It’s another dance, only it’s Cole’s turn to lead.

Cut loose, he turns his attention to the woman. Fear flows through her veins, the dagger beneath her sleeve is ready to open theirs. Beneath the steel, her heart wavers. Stranded between duty and love. “I’m warning you-”

“There’s still time,” he says. “She waits for you beside the fountain where you wished away Your Lady’s collection.” There were wiser things to do with gold, but oh how they’d laughed with every dream plunged into the water.

Cole steps forward and she braces, but not fast enough. “Forget.”

Time is unmade behind her eyes, and she slips the mask from her face to rub the last place she’d been kissed. Gone as quickly as she came, with new purpose in her step.

“It seems you found a way to help someone, after all,” Solas remarks after the library door has shut behind her. “You never fail to impress.”

Something in him shines brighter, bolstered by his pride. “Thank you.” He falters, looking down at his feet, curling his toes inside their boots. “I’d like to try another dance, if you think there’s time.”

A laugh coloured wine red parts Solas’ lips, punctuated by a snort that makes Blackwall down below look around for its source. “I believe there is time for one more,” he says, outstretched palm seeking Cole’s hand. “Since you have devised a way to put off intruders, I daresay we have all the time in the world.”

It isn’t a lie, but neither is it true. Like the golden caprice coins that shine beneath the lovers’ reunion, Solas’ words glow like wishes.

[fandomfindings]

Help

Pairing: (Fred Weasley x Non-Gryffindor Reader)

Word Count: 2.6K

Warning(s): A few swears 

Summary: A Fred Weasley imagine in which you both face off in a quidditch match against the other. When it comes down to the wire Fred purposely doesn’t make a game changing hit, leading to a short strain in your relationship. 

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It was a lovely day for a quidditch match. The air was cold and crisp. It was cloudy, yet the sun peaked through from beyond said clouds now and then.

Your team was going against Gryffindor, the same team your boyfriend Fred Weasley plays beater for. This wasn't the first time you two had competed against each other, but this would be the first time as significant others.

You had been friends with the twins since first year, but as time grew on, you and Fred developed a stronger relationship, something beyond the lines of friends.

You were indeed nervous about going up against Fred, but you had to remember this was nothing new; you had done this before. The only difference now is that he meant more to you. You both now shared a more intimate connection not only mentally but also physically. You admittedly had a soft spot for the beater, but you couldn't let that influence how you played today.

The current score was 140 to 80, and your team was down. If the chasers couldn't score any more points before Gryffindor's seeker caught the golden snitch, your house would lose. It was up to you; you needed to find and catch the snitch before Gryffindor's lead got too far.

You scanned over the pitch, looking for any traces of the small golden object.

As you were about to set your eyes on another part of the pitch, you caught a glimpse of something shiny, the golden snitch. The clouds had made it harder to find, but thanks to the sun breaking through them, its rays reflected off the fast-flying object.

You quickly flew in the direction of the snitch, knowing it would soon move positions, especially as you got closer.

The match continued in the background, but you were now laser-focused on the golden snitch. You heard cheers, though you weren't sure if it was because the crowd noticed your pursuit or if the houses had scored once again.

You reached the snitch, not close enough to grab but close enough to ensure you could follow it without losing sight of the thing. Quickly, you looked up to the scoreboard, in short enough time to read it. You had to make sure that if you caught the golden snitch now, your team would win. The score was now 150 to 100, so your team had made a small gain but still not enough to win without that snitch.

Looking back to the snitch, you noticed it hadn't moved much, but something had moved, Gryffindor's seeker Harry. He must have caught sight of the golden snitch once you made your haste to it. That or he had seen the sunbeams on it as well, which you doubted.

Taking Harry's further distance into consideration, your chances of catching the snitch was higher than his own but not guaranteed; the snitch was unpredictable.

A strategy quickly coming to mind you put it into motion. You swiftly made your way around the snitch, putting yourself between it and Harry as an extra safeguard. Then you pursued it.

The golden snitch was fast, but you were faster. You began to gain on it. However, you still weren't close enough to catch it. You took a brief moment to survey your surroundings, making sure that Harry hadn't gained much on you or the object you were chasing.

Not to your surprise, he had gained some. Harry was a fast flyer, you'd give him that, but he still had much to learn. Turning back to the goal in hand, you realized it had grown a bit closer in the few seconds you weren't looking at it.

Extending your hand out to reach for the golden snitch, it was barely out of reach, if only you had been blessed with slightly longer limbs like your boyfriend.

Shit, your boyfriend. The beaters. They would try to hit you to try to get you off the snitch's tail, given a chance. You looked past the snitch, and as you expected, Fred was there bat in hand and eyes set on an incoming bludger.

You needed to grab the snitch quickly before the bludger knocked you off track or your broom entirely.

Things began to almost move in slow motion as you looked between the snitch and your boyfriend. You wondered what would happen first, Fred hitting the bludger towards you or you catching the snitch. Quicker than you had hoped, you got your answer, hearing the audible smack of the bludger against Fred's bat.

You felt a brisk wind pass your head, enough to blow your hair in another direction slightly. You followed where it went and realized it was the bludger that Fred had just hit. Looking back to your boyfriend in shock, Fred never missed.

Deciding to act now and ask questions later, you continued your chase of the snitch.

It didn't take long for you to feel the object on your fingertips. Jolting your broom and body forward even more than before, you now had the golden snitch in your grasp.

"They did it! Gryffindor is defeated after (Y/N) (L/N) caught the snitch," Lee Jordan commented as Madam Hooch blew the whistle, effectively ending the match and announcing your house the victors.

You looked to the snitch in hand, then back up as cheers from your house and boos from the opposing range out across the pitch. You saw the Gryffindor team leave and dismount their brooms in defeat, all but your red-headed boyfriend.

Hoovering in the air for a bit, processing everything that just happened, you came to one conclusion. You had unwanted help catching the snitch and winning the match.

Your team had a quick celebration on the pitch. You all set your brooms down where you were, and they all ran to you. Your house's victory chant was all that you could hear as they lifted you in the air for a few moments. You laughed, but all you could think about was how you didn't truly earn that win, and there was only one person to blame.

You scan the pitch looking for the red-head in question, and it doesn't take you long to find him, for he was a tree among bushes. You saw him being scolded by their captain Oliver Wood. Surely, Wood had seen Fred's missed shot just before you caught the snitch; at least you weren't the only one.

Your teammates placed you back on your feet, and they all grabbed their brooms from the ground as your captain announced a celebratory party in your house's common room after dinner.

Your cheerful teammates only took moments to leave the pitch, with a few of them patting your back in gratitude and proudness. On the other hand, you stayed back, insuring you would have the entire pitch to scold your idiot of a boyfriend.

"Are you coming (L/N)?" Your captain questioned, placing a celebratory hand on your shoulder like many others.

"Uh," You hesitated, glancing over to your team, who were now passing Fred on their way to the changing rooms.

"Yeah, I'll meet you all in the changing rooms. I want to bask a bit longer at the moment," You conned, looking from the snitch in your hand to the now-empty stands.

"I understand, you did well today. We'll be taking home the quidditch cup in no time," Your captain said with a smile and one final path to your shoulder.

As your captain passed Fred, they patted him on the shoulder as well and said something along the lines of 'good game' before retreating into your house's changing room.

You rolled your eyes at the statement knowing Fred didn't play to his full potential. You once again looked to your hand, seeing the golden snitch you now felt you didn't deserve. Clutching the small golden object, you then looked up, seeing that Fred was already halfway to you, his long legs definitely helping in the matter.

Once to you, there was a silence, an uncomfortable one no less, for obvious reasons. Fred feared speaking first, and you feared hurting his handsome face considering you were debating on punching. Instead, you went for a calmer approach, at least as calm as you could be right now.

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck that was?" You interrogated softly, only adding emphasis to the swear that left your mouth.

"What do you mean?" He tried to ask in mock oblivion. However, he knew that you knew that he knew what he did.

"You know exactly what I mean," You said, glaring. "You had a clear shot and missed, you never miss."

"It wasn't clear enough; I guess I can miss sometimes. Besides, I could've hit Harry." Fred tried to reason, but you knew that wasn't true. Fred had time to think of this excuse, and yes, Harry was close, but not close enough for the bludger to hit him instead of you.

"Bullshit."

"Look, I was only trying to help," Fred said, realizing his plan to deny didn't work. He honestly wasn't surprised either, you were smart, but he thought it was worth a shot.

"I didn't ask for your help."

"I know but-," Fred began reaching out his arm to you, wanting to calm you down with his touch. Something that would surely happen if you gave him the chance.

"But nothing," You interrupted, shoving his approaching arm away from your own. "Next time you want to help, don't," You finished taking the snitch from your hand and thrusting it into your boyfriend's chest.

Fred grabbed hold of the golden snitch and your hand before you could release it. At his gesture, you looked him in the eyes, and you could see the pain within them. He hated seeing you upset, even more so, you being upset with him.

You gazed too long in his eyes; you began to feel yourself losing strength to be angry with him, but you persevered. Snatching your hand away from his but leaving the golden snitch.

"Congratulations on your win," You mumbled to the distraught red-head, picking up your long-forgotten broom, leaving the pitch and Fred to his thoughts.

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Fred stayed there for a while, not wanting to face anyone from his house, more specifically, his team. While everyone wasn't aware of his hesitation on the field like you, Wood, or even George, it still hurt to let his team down. Fred thought it was worth it, he thought he was making you happy, but in reality, he had let you down as well.

And down, you felt. As your entire house celebrated the win of today and a higher chance of winning the quidditch cup, you sat sulking in the corner. The butterbeer that was given to you when you first entered the common room, only having a few sips taken from it. In contrast, others were on their second or even third glass of the night.

The room was loud with cheers, chants, and conversations. It was much too loud for you to think, something you needed to do desperately right now.

You hedged your bets on the Astronomy Tower, being quiet and private enough to be alone and ponder, so you left your common room.

The tower was typically off-limits during times that didn't involve a lesson with Professor Sinistra, so you had high hopes you would be alone. Unfortunately, you realized that wasn't the case once you reach the said tower. Inside stood a tall red-headed Weasley, your tall red-headed Weasley. You let out a quiet sigh before joining him on the railing he decided to trust his body weight with, leaning on it.

Fred noticed you the moment you stepped onto the tower. He didn't have to see you to know it was you. It wasn't often that people came up here alone. Usually, it was couples trying to sneak away to make out or have private time, you and Fred included. So, to know only one set of footsteps pattered the floor, he was almost positive it was you. Fred's guess was proven once you stood next to him, not enough to touch you but enough to feel your presence.

You both stayed silent, looking across the night sky. It was still cloudy out, so not much could be seen, but the moon could not be ignored for it was big and bright.

Enough time passed that it gave you the time you needed to think and consult your inner thoughts. You realized you understood where Fred was coming from, but that didn't mean what he did was right.

Fred had known this. Once he realized the impact his decision had on you, his team, and his house, he knew he was wrong, and he needed to make it right. Your boyfriend had been practicing his apology for some time now.

See, Fred had time to think from his time at the pitch and the astronomy tower. He even skipped dinner, something you had noticed as you picked at your own plate, not taking any more than three bites.

Unlike Fred, who was left to his own devices, you were sucked into your house's celebrations. This being the first time you were left alone to your thoughts.

"Are you ever going to speak to me again?" Fred questioned, not taking his gaze away from the beautiful night sky.

"I'm still debating," You responded with a hint of humor in your voice, a good sign in Fred's opinion.

"Funny," Fred replied with a short chuckle. Fred turned to you, taking your hands from the rail and to his own.

"I am sorry, truly. If I would've known me helping you," Fred paused to correct himself. "Or what I thought was helping you would lead to so many issues I would've never done it."

"I know. While I will always appreciate your help, sometimes it's not necessary, Freddy. I just want you to understand that I can handle things on my own," You explained. "Besides, I've kicked your ass in quidditch without your assistance plenty of times," You added, chuckling.

"What's your definition of 'plenty of times' ?" Fred questioned, placing his forehead against yours, smiling none the less.

Fred's smile being contagious brought a smile to your face as well, and you responded, "Well, there was that time when I made you hit yourself with your own bat, and then again the next year, oh, and let's not forget this summer at The Burrow when you..."

Fred cut you off, "Alright, alright, you've made your point love."

He brought you in more, tugging at your arms until there was little space between you two. Bringing his face closer, Fred placed a kiss to your lips, nothing you weren't used to, but it felt especially nice after the misunderstanding you two just recovered from.

After a few seconds, you both part.

"Just know that if you ever pull something like that again, I'll beat you with a bludger myself, Freddy, " You jokingly threatened, pointing a jokingly stern finger at your boyfriend.

"I will keep that in mind," Fred laughed, slowly moving your finger from his face and back to his hand. He went for your lips again, pecking them softly.

"Good, "You said, interrupting the short kiss. Fred rolled his eyes as you kissed him again, deepening it slightly.

The exchange of kisses and loving glances continued on for a short while. However, it didn't last for your empty stomach decided to make itself known with a growl.

"Are you hungry?" Fred wondered.

"Starving."

"Lucky for you, I've made friends with a few house-elves. I'm sure they'll be willing to give us some leftovers from dinner or even cook us something."

"Lucky for me," You said, smiling. You brought Fred in for one final kiss before dragging him from the Astronomy Tower and down to the kitchens for some much-needed food.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this imagine as much as I enjoyed writing it. Fred is one my favorite characters from Harry Potter and I love reading about him so I decided to have a go at writing about him as well. Who’s your favorite Harry Potter character? Anyway please let me know what you guys think!

Lots of Love <3

[enigma-im]

Hooked on a Feeling

Prompt #8

Subject: Water-based sex Monster: Merman

            First time kisses, Loving embraces, and near drowning is what makes a romantic evening.

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Since the first day, I've been captivated by him. His beautiful colors of red, purple, and orange in his scales. The hard angles of his fins. Even his strange nearly human face. It's all been so alluring and thought-provoking. I can barely rip my mind from ideas of him.

When he first showed up to the facility I was iffy. Not on him, never on him, but how he ended up here. Though he made it clear to all around that he was here of free will, I still pondered about it. He came here because of typical injuries that most aquatic species face. Some torn scales and slashed fins that made it damn near impossible to swim. Though he has long since healed, he sticks around. I have asked countless times after I gained the courage to speak with him but he has yet to give me a complete answer. In my opinion, I think he enjoys the easy life.

I wonder about this thought as I sit along the edge of his cage one night. I kick my feet in the water as I rest my elbow on my knee. He swims below in large lazy circles, the sight just barely registering as I stare into space. Why would this wonderful creature still be doing here? He is strong enough to go back out there to his home. He has to have family waiting for him so what is holding him back? Perhaps he is honestly lazy, enjoying the sweet life of luxury in a highly funded rehabilitation center. Living off the generosity that no one will force him out. As possible as the idea is it just doesn't sit well.

He emerges from the depth silently, watching me with his barely submerged head. I catch his eyes, watching him back. He swims closer, his long tail propelling him. His webbed hands grab the metal grate I'm resting on, framing my thighs with his arms.

"Hello," he smiles.

"Hi," I answer back. Though my smile is curter than his. I feel too worn today to give back his enthusiasm.

"Penny for your thoughts," he rests his head along his arm, tracing a claw over my knee. I watch him for a moment, fighting the urge to jerk my knee at the ticklish feeling.

"Just thinking about something that's been bugging me," I mumble. His finger stops tracing over a long healed cut on my thigh. He instead flattens his hand, leaning up to rest his chin on my knee.

"What would that be," he asks. His tail lazily swishes behind him. I take the moment to admire it. The fade from red to purple with blotches of orange near his waist is beautiful. Sometimes when I look at him I feel the urge to paint though I lack the talent for it.

"Nothing exciting," I grab his hand, playing with the webs between his fingers. He allows me, lingering on the sight before saying anything else.

"Humor me anyway," he flips my hand over to trace over the lines on my palm.

"Alright," I grab his hand again," I was thinking about you."

His head snaps up to me," oh? I thought you said it was nothing exciting." his smirk brings a smile to my cheeks. I shove him playfully in the shoulder.

"Specifically I was thinking about why you choose to stick around here," I clarify," like, you don't need to be here but you stay. I can't imagine this place is as appealing as the great wide ocean."

"I'd argue differently, this place has something the ocean doesn't have," he shrugs.

"yea? What would that be," I humor him. The ocean is full of such wonder and beauty while this building has gray walls and dozens of aquarium tanks. Though the view is beautiful near the cove, it's only that small window that offers a glimpse of the true view. I look over towards the open barn doors, catching the rising moon.

"Well," he hesitates," for starters, it has you." I snap my head from the view to him.

"what," I huff in amusement. I meet his flustered gaze, realizing the sincerity of his words. "You think I'm more beautiful than the ocean," I scoff," you have been in here too long."

He snorts," you clearly must be blind because I've spent my entire life in the ocean, and only you have been able to steal my breath away."

I open my mouth to dispute his claim but his warm smile and tender looks make my heart throb. I look between his eyes, lost in thought for another time this night. He doesn't allow me to stew as he grabs my arms and swims out a bit, tugging me softly.

"Why not come for a swim," he asks with a gentle smile. I roll my eyes and tug back away, a rejection on the tip of my tongue. He interrupts," please, I wish to try something with you." I stare, conflicted but mostly curious. I've swum with him before, gaining great enjoyment from it.

"Fine," I sigh. He grins in triumph, ready to tug me into the water. I yank my hand back before he could, "Let me get these clothes off first. I don't have a spare set." his setting pout switches to blushing glee. I still can't figure out what he sees in me but I will soak up the admiration while I can. It's not every day someone says you are a more beautiful view than all the sights in the ocean.

I quickly discard my clothes, keeping a makeshift bikini set of a bra and underwear on before hopping into the slightly above room temperature water. The rush of being submerged makes me kick to the surface quickly. As I push the wet hair from out my face I'm greeting with his handsome face. His flat nose and sharp pearly whites. He swiftly grabs me, leaning back and swimming further into his pool. I rest against his chest, feeling his tail wiggle near my legs. Once we are far enough out he rests, holding me close to his body as he strokes along my sides.

"Is this what you wanted to do? Come out to the middle of your pool and cuddle," I tease. He looks down at me, raising a hand to moves a wet strand behind my ear.

"No but it's a perk," he grins," what I wanted to do was this." he straightens, letting my body slide off his, before cupping my face. My heart lurches at the immediate implication. It doesn't help when his thumb pet over my cheek. Before I can ask he leans forward and brushes his lips to mine. The strange wet, bumpy, warm press of his skin to mine is startling at first. Though I was fairly warned I still wasn't ready. He is shy in his attention, just testing the waters before pulling back.

"I think we could have done that without having me get undressed," I bite back a smile.

"Just taking the opportunities when they arise," he leans back down for another kiss. I react this time, grabbing his waist to secure our bodies closer then molding my lips to his. He gasps at the more forceful attentions, letting me lead with a soft hum. Our lips fit together well enough for what we are, feeling electrical in its pleasures. I try to introduce my tongue to the mix but he startles away. He leans back, licking his lips as he regards me.

"Kissing is strange," he chuckles," I didn't know you guys use tongue as well."

I huff with a confused furrow of my brow, "does your kind not kiss?"

"No, I just saw a lot of people around here doing it and I'll admit I grew very intrigued by the idea of doing that with you," he blushes.

"You saw people kissing and thought of me," I trail my leg along his tail. I feel his muscles twitch, moving us a bit as his body flicks.

"Y-yea," he stutters, " and I will very much so like to do that again."

"With or without tongue," I poke fun. He merely rolls his eyes before pressing his mouth to mine. This go around, he is more confident in his skills, introducing his tongue first. I show him the wonders of French kissing with slides of my tongue against his and sucking his before thrusting mine into his mouth.

As the heated make-out session progresses I feel the water around us move, swooshing along my legs. His tail flicks back and forth as he bumps his pelvis into my thighs. I adjust accordingly, matching my crotch to where I assume his is. I grind on him, relishing in the groan he lets out. Very quickly a protrusion pokes against my crotch before it slides along the cleft of my thigh. I pin it between our bodies, pleasuring him while I take in his moans.

He rips away from my mouth, dropping his head back as he pants heavily. His tail swishes quickly, rubbing his scales on my skin. Though surprisingly smooth it does begin to chafe. His groans grow rampant along with the grind of his hips to the point that I worry of an impending climax. I stop my grinding and grab his head, forcing him to look at me.

"You alright," I ask. His hazy eyes finally focus on me, his fingers tightening on the back of my neck.

"Oh," he comes back to himself, "Apologies, I got very lost there for a moment. Your body is extremely tempting, I shouldn't have rushed us like that." he drops his hands from around my neck, making to depart. I dig my fingers into his hips, dragging him back and keeping him near with my legs around him.

"I didn't say I didn't like it," I purr," just got a bit worried there. You seem to be enjoying yourself a great deal."

He chokes on his laugh," yea? It's hard not to. Your kisses were too erotic, a lethal weapon truly. Though if you are so inclined, do you wish to continue?"

Instead of answering, I trail a hand down between us, grabbing at his cock. His lusty grin goes debauched as I squeeze the base of him. His tail flicks again, pumping himself into my hand.

"By the gods," he grunts," you aren't even doing much and I'm completely ready to be your slave."

I pump his shaft lazily," my slave? Making too many promises and you haven't even gotten inside me yet."

He perks up at my words, "Inside you? Is this possibly going to be the best night of my life?"

"Keep saying those mushy words and it will be, big boy," I thumb the head of his cock with an immodest grin. He groans with an all too willing roll of his hips. I pump him, all too eager to watch him fall apart because of me. His eyes don't know where to go, lost between looking at me or my hand. Soon he settles on my clothed chest, a light-catching in his eyes as he brings a hand to my straps. My hand slows as I wait for him. He pulls the strap, snapping it against my shoulder with a questioning quirk of his brow.

"Ask and you shall receive," I joke as I peel the wet clothing off. He watches with rapt attention, lighting up when I'm fully presented. Without missing a beat he cups my chest, making me laugh at his over-eagerness. He gropes with glee, pleased as all can be. I enjoy the attention but enjoy stroking him even more.

I jerk him off as he plays with my chest, tweaking my nipple when he finds my actions stutter. We both test the other's resolves while enjoying our exploration. He soon rips my hand from his cock to lean down and bring a bud into his mouth. His sharp teeth glide along the erect bud, soothing the small scratches with his tongue. I find myself slowly sinking lower in the water, his attention never wavering as he submerges.

I brush my palm over the fin protruding down the back of his head, panting with a silly smile on my face. He goes from lathering my chest to smooshing his head between them, groping while he mashing my tits against his cheek. I can't help but chuckle, pulling him up for a kiss. He impatiently delves his tongue into my mouth as his arms wrap around my waist. He pulls me in close, aligning our bodies just right that his tip prods at my folds. He grinds in short bursts between them, taking his turn to relish in my groans against his tongue.

I grow impatient at the teasing, reaching down to grab his cock. He grunts, parting from my lips. He rests his head at the crook of my neck, watching between us as I line him up. With a short buck of his tail, he nudges inside, slowly gliding in with a small bit of resistance. With every gasp and grunt from me, he pauses only to continue when I nuzzle his head. Soon he is to the hilt, panting near my ear.

"Are you ok," he sighs, baring his teeth to my jaw. I ripple along him making him seethe at the sudden squeeze.

"I'm good, how bout you," I kiss his shoulder.

"I'm good," he sucks in a deep breath," I'm going to move now."

"Alright," butterflies jump around in my stomach in anticipation. He holds me firm against his chest as his tail arches back before snapping his hips forward. This sudden thrust makes me cry out. He pauses at the sound, only repeating the action when I reassure him with a kiss to his shoulder. I rest against him as he begins to plow into me, forgoing the languid bucks for frenzied thrusts.

I feel on fire because of him, crying out into the nearly empty room. I can hear the splashing of the water between us as his hips meet mine. I tilt my head back to keep from catching the drops in my mouth. I flutter along his cock, grinding into ever meeting. My nails dig into his back, wanting him as close as possible. His cock feels like a god sent, too perfect for someone like me. As I listen to his own cries of pleasure do I understand what beauty can exist outside of the ocean. I can't help but climb so fast upon the hill of climax. He is too much- just exactly enough- for me.

As my body ripples with its nearing orgasm that he leaves from the comfort of my neck to attack my lips in a crushing kiss. His teeth scrape against my skin, perhaps ripping open the delicate layers. It's when I taste copper on his tongue do I get my answer. The taste and his rough handling nearly push me over the edge. I pull back from him, screaming out my enjoyment as he returns to the crevice of my neck.

As I begin to pulse around him we start to sink under the water. I have half a mind to take in a breath before I become completely submerged. Though the danger of the situation is but a fuzzy note in my brain I find myself transfixed by the trust I have in him as I squeeze him in a tight grip. I fight back the urge to cry out my last breath as I cum on him. His thrusts become frantic as he rides out my high, reaching his in the process. As he pulses and throbs, his teeth sink into my neck, clamping down hard as he cums. I can't fight the urge any longer, arching back and letting out a wail into the water. The bubbles rise to the top as my hair frames the last breath I have.

He stills, arched around my and buried to the helve. His teeth slowly release me but don't completely let go. The moment is too perfect though my body begins to fight the need for breath. I take in a few moments of having him buried inside me and holding me so dear before I nudge him.

He snaps away from my bleeding neck to catch my eyes. Realization dawns on him as he pulls out then swims up. As we break the surface I take in a greedy breath. He watches me with worry while I catch my breath.

"I'm fine," I pant. He doesn't take my words seriously as he pulls me closer.

"I'm so sorry," he pets my back," I didn't even think, it just happened." his worried eyes stabs at my heart. I grab his head as he flutters about me. I press a quick peck to his lips before leaning back with a smile.

"it's ok, I'm fine," I peck him again for good measure. He seems to relax before he looks down towards my shoulder. His worry ramps up again.

"Oh, I have made a right mess of your shoulder," he brushes the hair away. The sting of the action makes me wince.

"You bit me," I find myself laughing," that was unexpected." he flinches at the comment, still observing the bleeding wound. He leans down in what I assume was a closer look but was instead to lick it. I stiffen at the suddenness of having his tongue cleaning my wound. I then shiver when he does it again, ridding the area of blood. Once he is done he presses a kiss to it, soft and caring.

"Though I enjoy the sight of my mark on your neck I do apologies for going so overboard. Scaring you and drowning you in one go was not my intentions," he catches my eyes, sincerity written all over his face. I can't help but pull him in close and kiss him.

"All is forgiven," I lean next to his ear, "I liked it." he shivers with a groan, pulling my hips against his.

"What did you like," he asks with a cheeky grin.

I play along, "I liked having your cock buried inside me and trusting you while you had me underwater."

"You liked almost drowning," he asks in slight disbelief.

"Yea, I trust you to not let me drown. Even if you were distracted," I kiss his cheek," and what a feeling that was. You are quite a skilled lover if I do say so, but I think I can show you a few more tricks."

"yea," he asks," are you open to showing me right now?"

"Perhaps," I answer. He growls as he leans in for a kiss, swimming towards the nearest wall to press me against.

"No drowning this time," he mumbles against my jaw.

"Maybe a little," I tease. He nibbles my ear, tugging it in protest.

-------------------------------------

I don’t know why this one is my favorite. Something about nearly drowning just gets to me i guess. One more story left for this weekend!

Complete series

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[statementends]

Since it's Mermay, the fears and their Mer manifestations:

Buried: they live in mud. They have no eyes. They have long mole like claws to dig forward and their tail is powerfully muscular to push through thick dirt and mud. They drag their victims down to be suffocated and consumed.

Dark: deep sea creatures that live in the deepest parts of the ocean where light from the sun doesn't reach. They've been known to not only mislead swimming humans, but even whales and other marine life to an endless dark void.

Vast: although would take credit for regular mermaids there are also those that can leap out from the ocean and fly on air currents. Seeing one is a sign your ship will never see land again.

Lonely: they've never been seen, but in heavy fogs you can hear their haunting song. Following their music is unwise. The fog will only grow thicker. Often heard by castaways and fisherman alone on the ocean.

Desolation: Within volcanos in hot magma. Their skin is hot and cracked stone and their eyes illuminated fire. They will only be satisfied by you offering what you most love or they will see you burn in their fires and then take what they wanted from you anyway.

Web: Nets might be seen as a merfolks bane, but this species has adapted to use nets against their would be captors. With their many limbs they use discarded fishing nets and tangle boats leading them into reefs and rocks and icebergs as easy as pulling a puppet on its strings. Woe be anyone who is caught in their net.

Hunt: Sharks are not so dangerous to humans especially when you keep out of their fishing grounds. These beings are nothing like sharks. They will stalk their pray hundreds of kilometers through the ocean and devour most of it whole, although sometimes they use the left over bones as bait for other potential victims.

Flesh: they are massive, floating through the water like a sunfish might. Any being foolish enough to get close and try to make a meal will find as soon as it bites or touches it becomes stuck. Unable to pull away soon it will be just another body part of this creature.

Slaughter: Endlessly these creatures battle for territory. They destroy and sabotage human made structures, see town's flooded and water sources poisoned. They want to take the land and kill anything in their way. Who would have thought their main advantage would be the heat made by humans. Soon their campaign will gain even more ground.

Corruption: their bodies are covered with barnacles and mussles and corals. They hear each other's hum and move in large schools. In their wake healthy sea life curls and dies, disease ridden. There is death, but if you make a connection and find coral growing on your skin then dive in and join your new family as the humming replaces your thoughts.

Stranger: They resemble divers. Like many sea creatures they can fold their skin and camouflage their colours. They can easily mimic the colour of diving suits the long hair of a companion. They'll swim beside you with ease until you notice that the diving suit is skin and you catch a glimpse of your companion on the other side of a wall of seaweed, already dead.

Extinction: dead zones in the ocean, static, and radiation. The extinction doesn't have creatures. That comes after.

Spiral: Swirling colours that humans should not be able to see adorn them. Their flashy colours and fractal pattering draw their pray to them. Often they live in shells that they will drag their victims into. The shells have no end.

End: Ancient beings, lobster shelled. They grow bigger and bigger their armor cutting into them, but they don't die. They only watch as everything else entropies.

Beholding: Bioluminescent creatures with large glowing eyes that cover their body along with other sensory organs. In the water they can know of everything in it from shore to shore. It makes them good at hiding despite the light their body makes to reveal things in the deep. If they find something novel they will follow it, even inland to know everything about it.

[jordanlahey]

Hey! I saw you were in the mood for some lost boys requests? If it's okay, could you do something where the boys meet a mermaid? I can just imagine Paul thinking he's smoked too much and the disbelief 😂😂😂

I can imagine that too, poor Paul 🥺😂

The sun was starting to set in Santa Carla and the boys were ready to start their night of drinking and causing mayhem. They always head to the boardwalk for their nightly feast, picking out any broad that some much as gives them a second glance or maybe a group of drunken teens down by the beach, just whatever takes their fancy.

They settle on a group at the beach that was more secluded than the rest near the rocky caves which was close to home anyway. They had finished their meal and decided not to let the fire go to waste, Dwayne and David threw the body’s of the unfortunate teens in the burning fire while Paul joins Marko and sits himself on a rock deciding its the best time to get high.

Little did they know they were being watched surely David felt they were being watched but he couldn’t see anyone walking around he didn’t bother to check the water. You were watching them closely, they were strange humans to you feeding off the same species as far as you know. One of them in particular kept looking around sometimes in your direction he had platinum blonde hair that was spiked at the top and long at the bottom, everytime he did look your way you’d dunk back under the water the noise disguised as the waves hitting the near by rocks.

You see the same four boys every so often sometimes you catch a glimpse of them near the carnival when your watching the other humans have fun. They piqued you’re interest all of them holding some sort of mystery especially the tall dark haired one. You contemplated making your presence known to them but you weren’t sure of what to do or say. “Hi I’ve been watching you for like along time” you thing in your head.

At this point you had taken your attention away from them as you thought of your plan unbeknownst to you, you were now being watched.

“Ahem.” You squealed and sank under the water it wasn’t a great hiding spot since they could still see you. You looked at them through the water and it was the boys you were gawking at, you lifted your head outta the water. “Do you need a hand there sweetheart?” The platform blonde asked, flashing you a smile, you shook your head you weren’t in any danger but you looked completely human to them.

You looked passed them at the fire that was starting to die down, they couldn’t possibly throw you in there too.

“I’m not going to be the next one thrown in there am I?” The boys exchanged looks almost like they were communicating with each other without speaking.

“How much did you see?” The boy with curly hair asked and you brought yourself closer to the rock, leaning in it.

“Were they bad? You tore into them like animals. Is that what all humans do?” You asked looking at them curiously. They chuckled, you had a funny way of talking to them.

“Why don’t you come up we can talk.” Your eyes widened with more curiosity and you drifted to the rock next you that was close enough to them and hoisted yourself up onto it. All the boys stared at you, sure you were topless, your hair long enough to cover your breast but the shimmery blue tail is what really caught their attention.

The messy blonde started slapping the brunette’s shoulder and pointing to your tail. “I haven’t smoked that much right!? You guys see that!?” He was borderline freaking out if his own mind began playing tricks on him.

“Nah man, I see it too.” The curly blonde said, they were all a little surprised. Never in their entire lives have they seen or met a mermaid in person they’ve heard stories but they believed them to be a load of cock and bull. They eat their words now.

“Never seen a mermaid before? Wow you’re missing out!” You chimed living your tail above water to show them fully.

“Your kidding, you gotta be.” Paul looked at his joint and threw it on the ground, he doesn’t want to smoke again right now. You giggled at his reaction it was adorable.

“I’m surprised he isn’t more concerned that a girl is shirtless in front of him.” David spoke to Dwayne and he let a smirk tug and his lips.

“It’s very real feel it!” He leaned down to touch it when Marko pushed him in face first into the water they all burst into laughter as Paul pushed himself back up he was ready to have Marko in a headlock. You looked at them so confusingly.

“They do this often. Wait till Paul is less high and he’ll actually believe you.” Dwayne told you and you nodded.

Every so often the boys would visit you before they go back to the cave and Paul finally believes that your a real mermaid after like the 4th meeting he even refused to smoke that day so he knew that his brothers weren’t fucking with his mind.

[headoverjojo]

hi! can i request mermaid au where bruno falls in love with mermaid reader.💞✨

Hello there, dear! Sure thing :3 here we go! I hope you’ll like it :3

Mermaid AU: Bruno Bucciarati falls in love with a mermaid

(Under the cut for length!)

Every sailor and fisherman knew about mermaids. Someone said they had the body of a bird of prey and the head of a beautiful woman, and that their home was on the most unattainable peaks; someone else said that they lived under the sea, and that they were half human and half fish. They all agreed, however, on mermaids’ enchanting voices; if you heard a mermaid’s song, you didn’t come back as the man you were, they said. You would have always longed for the sea, to hear that voice again… it would have drawn you to madness. That was why mermaids were mostly considered guilty of many sailors and fishermen’s deaths: their songs called maelstroms and drew the fishes away, bringing months of poverty and misery on the land. Bruno, just a twelve years old child, already knew this all. He had heard those stories countless times from his father’s friends; even so, he mostly didn’t believe them, labelling them as legends and stories, created to explain natural events, or to give an explanation to someone’s sudden death. Still… a little part of him couldn’t help but to believe that there was something true about it. He just hoped that mermaids weren’t as malevolent as legends said…

He clutched to a rope, when another big wave made his father’s little boat dangerously roll, hoping once more to encounter just a benevolent mermaid. The storm that was approaching was huge and it had appeared all of sudden, and they were too far from the coast to reach it before the storm. They could just endure it and hope to have on their side every kind of benevolent entity.

“Bruno, watch out! Go inside!” his father’s words got lost in the roar of the cold and salty wind that ran over the boat, almost making it overturn. The jolt was too violent: Bruno lost the grip on his support, falling into the unforgiving sea.

Suddenly, every sound was muffled. The roar of the wind, the thunders, his father and the other fishermen’s screams… it was all far away and unintelligible. Bruno tried to break the sea surface to breathe, but every time the water pushed him down, nullifying his efforts. He was starting to feel lightheaded, his lungs seemed on fire, and his heartbeat was echoing in his ears, deafening…

Suddenly, fresh air! He could breathe again! Bruno gulped down the rainy air, grateful, clutching at the thing that was keeping him out of the violent waves. Thing… or person? Bruno turned, finding himself staring at a pair of bright and big grey eyes. What made him almost lose his grip was what was around those eyes: scales. Shiny and little scales, an iridescent dark green so similar to the girl’s hair. They almost seemed… yes, seaweed…

The girl gasped, seeing the lucidity coming back to the young boy, and hurried to throw him back on the boat. Before falling on the slimy floor, Bruno managed to take a last glimpse of iridescent green -was that a tail?- before the sea reclaimed that strange girl.

The next hours, for Bruno, rushed in a blurry. Before he could even realize it, the storm, as soon as it had arrived, vanished, allowing them to go back to the harbor; everyone already thought they were dead. No one could survive a storm like that! Everyone said it was a miracle, that some Saint, above in the sky, had watched over them… but Bruno, still scared, cold and dripping wet, knew who had saved them, and it wasn’t a saint.

It was a mermaid. He couldn’t tell it aloud, however. It didn’t feel… right. The girl didn’t seem to want someone to know he was there, and he didn’t want to put her in danger.

However, he wanted to approach her, even just to thank her. He had to find a way to come closer to her without scaring her… finally, after a couple of days spent mumbling and thinking, he came to an idea. He often found pretty shells and stones on the shore, especially when, during the night, the waves were violent and filled with treasures, and he took the prettiest and put them in his precious treasure box. He smiled, finding what he was searching for: a small stone, a perfect oval and iridescent stone. Its texture was smooth and nice thanks to the water that had modelled it, and there was a small hole, big enough for inserting in a thread. Bruno, once, had planned to make, with that stone, a pretty necklace, and to give it to his mother… but then she had left them, and she had never come back, even when she said she would have done it for sure. So, the little stone had remained in the box, unused and almost forgotten, until that moment.

It had been easy to make the necklace. He used a special thread, particularly resistant to sea water, and here it was, a pretty and unique gift. He was more than satisfied, and it was time to give it to his saviour!

He left it on a rock by the sea, far enough from the harbour to be safe for her but not too hard to reach for him. He put the necklace on the rock, near enough to the sea to allow her to take it, and then he sat down, and waited. And waited. He waited for hours, but nothing. When the harbour's bells rang for the last time of the day, at 8 p.m., he sighed, getting up. Maybe he had imagined it all, and there was no girl with scales around her eyes and seaweed hair…

A sudden splash made him jolt. He quickly turned around, catching a glimpse of a palmed hand that was quickly retracting into the sea, holding the necklace. Bruno gasped, incredulous: it was her! It was the girl!

"Hey, wait! Wait!!" he called, sprinting to the rock, but it was too late. The girl was gone.

Bruno sat down again, huffing with frustration. He was so close… however, that was the proof he needed. He wasn't crazy: she existed! Now… he just had to slowly gain her trust, day by day. It would have been a long journey… but it would have been worthy of all his efforts. He was sure about it.

-

Well, the journey had been a bit longer than what he had thought. Way longer.

It took Bruno ten years to finally come to know her. Every day, he sat down near the rock, bringing, when he could, a gift. Sometimes it was a jewel made with stones and shells, sometimes it was a little ornament he carved from the wood the waves brought to the shore. It seemed that she liked his gifts; soon, she started to leave gifts for him too. It was a slow, really slow process: it took more than two years to just be in each other's presence. They stayed a little far from each other, studying and staring at their faces, without talking. After a while, he started to take with him various books, and to read them aloud. She seemed to like it: she rested her head on her arms, staring intently at him and listening attentively. Sometimes she even closed her eyes, to enjoy his voice better.

Starting to talk for real had been the next step. She trusted him enough to reveal her name, and to open up about a few things about mermaid society and life. He was utterly fascinated by her stories; it was like being in a fairytale…

At the same time, he talked to her about land things; how humans lived on the land, their legends, their stories. She couldn't have enough of it; the more she knew, the more she wanted to know. A boy who loved the sea and a girl who loved the land: what a strange pair they were. What a perfect pair of friends…

Friends, yes, that was what they were. But… Bruno had started to feel pretty weird around her. When he saw her smile, so sincere and sunny, his heart started to beat faster; when her eyes stared in his, he felt drawn to her, as she was a magnet…

He knew what it was. He knew that what he was feeling was way more than a simple friendly feeling, or even a simple crush. It was deep, and sincere, and it had roots in his true heart. It wasn't something he could not think about or eradicate. He could just… live with it. And he felt that he had to be honest to her, and tell her the truth about his feelings. He knew it was foolish to even think about having a normal life with her: she was a daughter of the sea, and he was a son of the land. Their worlds weren't meant to be together. But maybe… maybe they could meet in the middle, and share at least something. It would have been better than nothing… and, if she didn't want to, he wouldn't have forced her. They would have stayed friends, if that was what she wanted.

He sat down on the rock, as usual, and waited for her. Her head peaked from the water, and she smiled at him, bright and marvellous as the sun, as she was approaching him. She hoisted herself up, resting her arms on the rock, near his leg. Bruno smiled at her, happy, but then worry and agitation took his heart again. It was the moment…

"Y/N, listen, I… I have to tell you something…" he started, fiddling with a loose thread of his shirt. God, why it was so difficult…

"I know, Bruno. I already know it." she interrupted him, looking at his fingers. She could feel Bruno's eyes, those wonderful eyes, blue as the clearest sea she had ever seen, on her, filled with surprise. Oh, she had known about his feelings for a long time, maybe even before he had noticed them… because they were the same feelings that filled her heart to the brim. Even so… how could they love each other? She was a mermaid and he was a human… they were not meant to be together. Even their friendship was something… unnatural, something that shouldn't have existed…

However, it did exist, and it was strong. So, maybe… maybe their worlds weren't so far. Maybe there was a place, somewhere, where they could live together…

"What can we do?" he whispered, almost not daring to hope. His fingers searched hers, softly caressing the tiny scales on her hand. She stayed in silence for a while, looking at his long fingers gently brushing her hand. His fingertips were rough and callous, due to the heavy work he did on his father's boat. Still… they were so gentle and delicate on her scales. It was such a wonderful feeling…

She held his hand in a strong and determined grip. She had taken her decision, and he already knew what it was just by looking at her in the eyes.

"We'll do whatever we need to in order to be together." she answered, finding her same desperate determination in Bruno's eyes.

They would have fought against both land and sea, if needed, to be together. That was a promise.

[vulturhythm]

until the blue ocean turns green - part two

part one

- - - - -

It's been years since Geralt left the merman alone by the shore.

Two, three?

He doesn't know.

Nearly six months since he left Yennefer behind.

She was too much, too soon... too intense.

They were doomed from the start.

Maybe... maybe, he admits, late at night when it's just him alone in his head, he should have stayed by the sea.

Maybe he should have stayed with Jaskier.

--

He travels.

He goes north.

He goes north, and he goes east, and he goes west.

Anywhere but south to the seas.

--

He takes contract after contract, kills creatures for peasants and nobility alike... never lays a hand upon a human, not again.

Every drop of blood he spills, he remembers the glistening silver of Jaskier's. He remembers how it laid upon the surface like liquid moonlight, how it soaked into the bandages and turned them a murky platinum...

Every time he meets the gaze of a monster, he thanks the gods that it isn't Jaskier's, that his merman isn't at the point of his sword.

Every time he makes camp near the river, he watches the water flow, and he wishes it were deep and rolling, capped with foam.

--

Five years pass, and then ten.

Time is kind to his type, his only claim to age an addition smattering of scars across his body, torn into his flesh by blades or teeth or claws.

There is one blessing time continues to withhold, however...

He has not yet managed to forget.

--

He sleeps with countless women, and yet, never with a man.

He tries, once - lets a young, pretty-eyed thing woo him with his words, gets as far as setting his teeth to the side of his throat, hands beneath his shirt and thigh between his legs...

... and the image of deep blue eyes and deeper scales flashes through his head, and bright, bright silver blood.

He draws away, steps back... leaves the man behind the tavern, mounts up on Roach, leaves the town he's only barely gotten to know and leaves it all behind.

That night, he doesn't sleep.

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Jaskier floating in the sea.

--

It's when he sees the scales of sea things at a market that fear clogs his throat.

Harpy scales, selkie scales, merfolk scales... blacks and grays and greens and golds, and blues - bright blues, dark blues, ocean blues, sky blues...

He confronts the man running the stall, demands to know where - and why.

"They're quite coveted for jewelry nowadays," is the simple response, and there's fear in the man's eyes when Geralt looms closer. "I'm not the, ah, the collector, I don't hunt the things - I just sell them and split the profit - "

"Split it with who?" he growls, and he knows, almost before the answer comes...

"Why, the witcher, of course."

--

Months pass.

Slowly, he wanders south, along mountain trails and through little villages he hasn't seen in years, along the outskirts of kingdoms and through valleys and forests...

He sees the scales in nearly every market, and in the richer regions, he sees them around the necks of women, at the fastenings of men.

As time goes on, he realizes it's not just scales - there's teeth and claws, too, and feathers, and as Geralt rides on through or walks on by, he realizes the witcher is killing not for contracts, but for sport.

It sickens him to imagine.

Worse, however, is the nagging voice at the back of his head, the one that urges him to try and remember the exact shade of...

No.

--

Geralt loses track of time again, as he often does now. With more than a century of his life beneath his belt, the years feel more like months sometimes.

Cycles, as Jaskier would have said.

He's begun to think like that with increasing frequency, evaluating things from the merman's eyes... he wonders what Jaskier knew of the human realm before he met the witcher.

Wonders if he's found another human to tell him of tavern songs.

--

The air grows salty as he draws further south.

It feels... it feels like returning to a home he never truly had.

To a love he never allowed.

--

He awakens from a dream one night, a nightmare... awakens from the vision of Jaskier, split and flayed open on the shore, his beautiful, beautiful tail sawed off and skinned bare, his scales shorn off and cleaned and sent to be draped about the neck of a queen.

He's barely been asleep for an hour, yet if it weren't for Roach's weariness, he would have taken to the road again immediately.

--

Things begin to look familiar, though changed with the passage of time.

He remembers this tree, that stone... remembers when that husk of a farmhouse was once active and lively, remembers when this town was small, little more than houses.

He stops at the new tavern, buys himself some ale.

It's here that he learns the witcher has all but set up camp along the shore, where the rivers feed into the sea.

Geralt's stomach churns at the thought.

He pushes Roach hard the next day, urges her on, on, on...

--

It's nightfall when he reaches the edge of the sea.

The water is dark and calm, but there's clouds upon the horizon, clouds that roil with lightning and threaten to mask the crescent moon overhead.

Geralt leaves Roach tied to the fallen tree. It's splintered with age, no longer sturdy enough to support his weight. She shies from the wood, and it's no wonder - it's splashed with platinum blood, dried into the bark.

The air reeks of death. Coppery blood blends with salt and fish and sand, and Geralt snarls beneath his breath as he paces along the water's edge.

He comes to the tide pool before long.

Much the same as always, full of life, of clear and gentle water that sloshes when the tide eases in. Standing at its edge, Geralt remembers the deer hide he'd spread across the stones, the cloths he'd draped upon Jaskier's back.

His gaze wanders back to the sea.

As clear as ever, he can see Jaskier floating just past the shallows, testing the strength of his newly-healed tail, calling the songs of the sea to Geralt and laughing aloud at his bewildered stare.

The faintest of smiles tugs at Geralt's lips, but it's dashed away an instant later by the memory of that silver cloud of blood, drifting upon the surface, calling his attention to the body out in the water that night long ago.

He thanks the gods above that he wasn't greeted by the same tableau tonight.

That doesn't mean he won't encounter it soon.

Geralt heaves a quiet sigh, turns to look back at Roach, who's watching him with those soft, wise eyes. "Hopeless?" he half-asks, his voice low.

She whickers in response, and he turns his gaze back to the water.

--

Two weeks pass.

He comes across no other signs of the witcher, but, as he learned long ago, invisible demons are no less a threat than those that you can see, hear, feel.

Then again, he supposes he can see, sense, touch the evidence of the other witcher... he sees the blood splashed across the driftwood and stones. He hears the way the shore is all but silent except for the lapping of the waves, even the gulls overhead scarce. He feels the way every living thing seems to have drawn back in fear.

He hates it in a way that he cannot describe.

He's seen horrific things - battlefields sprayed with blood and brains, homes torn apart by violence, corpses left hanging half-eaten from trees or mountain ledges, bits of rotting flesh on the teeth of the creatures he's meant to kill - and yet, not in his century-odd of living has he ever encountered such a dreadful aura, such an air of gloom.

Distantly, he knows that it's because of the fear roiling deep within his chest, a constant ache that refuses to ease away. He sets up camp less than a half-mile from the sea, where the wind will waft the scent of blood in his direction, should anything... go awry.

For a while, nothing happens.

The days pass without event, and the nights, much the same.

--

It's about three days later that he begins to notice the gulls are returning.

At first, it's just a couple, cruising along overhead, their calls rare and quiet, as though they know better than to speak too loudly.

Later in the afternoon, as Geralt paces along the shoreline where he'd met Jaskier all those years ago, he notices more of them, perched upon a rock that crests above the sea a short distance out. The sight is oddly familiar, enough to jog Geralt's memory. He goes still, frowning toward the stone.

He doesn't think he's imagining the way the gulls are staring at him, tilting their heads, cawing between themselves.

It's unusual, to be frank, but...

... nothing comes of it that day.

--

The next day, there are more. A lot more.

One awakens him in the late evening by lighting upon a branch near his camp and squawking loud enough to wake the goddamn dead.

Geralt jerks upright with haste, staring at the bird in the sort of confusion he usually reserves for sorceresses and their type.

Realization strikes him a moment later, and he scrambles to his feet. Roach is already snorting her protest before he even approaches her. She seems far, far less than impressed to be saddled up and nudged into a trot all thanks to the appearance of a single gull, but Geralt pays her disgruntled sounds no mind, for a memory has risen to the surface...

... the memory of his merman, rambling on and on about the stories the gulls told him.

As soon as it sees Geralt is in motion, the gull springs into flight, rising up through the trees into the open air above. Geralt catches enough of a glimpse to track it westward; he's quick to spur Roach along, heart caught in his throat.

It's easier to follow the gull once they're beyond the trees, once it leads them out to the shoreline. It's now that the gull is joined by two - three - more, all circling impatiently then flying on ahead while Roach finds steady footing in the sand.

Geralt imagines they've gone nearly a mile before, suddenly, the wind shifts, and he's hit with -

with -

with the stench of blood, hot and wet and not... not red, no, silver, unicorn silver, a cloyingly sweet scent that bites the roof of Geralt's mouth when it settles there, horrific in its familiarity.

No longer minding the gulls above, he kicks his mare into a canter, praying to the whole damn pantheon that he isn't too late.

--

The moon is high overhead when he finally catches sight of the bleeding thing.

There's a fishing net halfway submerged in the shallows, one end tangled and tethered amongst the mess of rocks and logs on the sand. It's clear that the net was hauled ashore once it was full... hauled ashore so its contents would dehydrate and rot away in the heat of the day.

As Geralt draws near, he slows Roach to a walk, and then to a halt, his heart rising and catching in his throat.

Through the strands of the net, he can see pale skin and deep, deep blue scales.

He's out of the saddle and in motion almost before he realizes it, calling Jaskier's name, and the creature tangled in the net - they stir, they thrash, they try to pull away -

Geralt drops to his knees beside the mess of rope and blood and flaked-off scales, fumbling to pull his dagger from its home at his belt. "Jaskier," he says, and then, louder, when dazed blue eyes meet his own, "it's me, I'm here, you're - don't try to move, I don't want you hurt - "

"You came," croaks a familiar voice, weakened with illness, laden with relief. "You - I thought you were gone..."

"The gulls led me to you," was Geralt's simple response; he was frozen now, staring at - at all of it, trying to find the weak points in the rope, the points where he could cut through without hurting his siren any more than he already had. "I'm - I'm sorry, Jaskier, I should have come back before."

His merman shakes his head, or tries to, and fuck, the rope is digging into his face, and Geralt's heart fucking aches with the sight. "Don't blame yourself," he mumbles. "Don't."

All Geralt can do is look at him, look at him and try to fucking breathe.

It's been years since he's let himself cry, but he thinks he might now.

He shakes himself into motion with a muffled curse, grabs for the loosest part of the rope that he can see and - and tries to cut through, he fucking tries, but there's more resistance than he expects, and it's then that he realizes the rope is glinting with silver - silver for monsters - and the anger that rises in his chest gives him the strength to slice through the metal strands.

Jaskier, to his credit, lays still as Geralt reaches, grabs, pulls, cuts - shows no sign of fear - and Geralt breathes in, forces himself to listen, feels dread settle in his stomach when he realizes the merman's pulse is weak, so weak... when he realizes his merman is dying.

"Stay awake," Geralt grits out, and he knows he sounds harsh, he sounds cruel, but - but he doesn't know how else to sound, not when he thinks he may have to scare death off his own goddamn self, just to keep his mermaid safe. "Stay awake, Jaskier..."

It becomes a fucking mantra, one he repeats over and over again as he cuts the net apart, as he slices through what feels like fucking miles of silver thread, careful - so careful - not to cut into lacerated skin or shaved-off scales. It feels like a fucking eternity before the last of the net falls away and Geralt can breathe again, can sheathe his dagger in a hurry and look Jaskier over.

His anger returns tenfold as he takes him in.

The merman is badly sunburnt, bright and horrific red, a salmon shade joined by deep silver and deeper gray where he's bleeding and has bled. A closer look tells Geralt that the silver has done a fine job of eating into his skin in some places. As for his tail, well... it's easy to tell that it'll be marred by quite a few new scars, and the fan at the end is bordering on ruined.

"I'm sorry," says Geralt at last.

He's met with silence, and fear clogs his throat as he looks up to Jaskier's face.

Jaskier is merely... he's just watching him, those deep blue eyes glazed and unfocused.

He looks half-dead already, and yet, despite that - despite the blood on his skin - he looks... trusting.

Geralt can't quite wrap his head around that.

"Stay awake," he says again, reaching beneath the merman - just like years before - and lifting him with arms that want to shake despite his best efforts to the contrary. "Let me get you to the water..."

Jaskier gives a quiet sound in reply, and he tips his head to the side, resting against Geralt entirely even though he whines with pain. "They told me a witcher was nearby," he says, hoarse. "I thought... I thought it was you."

Anger wells up yet again - anger, and hate, and malice, and... and remorse.

Guilt.

He heaves a sigh as he carries his merman to the water's edge, wading into the shallows. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I'm going to set you down for a minute so you can cool off... I have potions in my saddlebag."

The other man doesn't respond, and Geralt fights the fear clenched tight about his heart. He kneels down, easing Jaskier into the water, and he can't help but grimace at the pitiful little sound of pain the sting of salt earns. "I'm sorry," says the witcher again.

He's as gentle as he's ever been as he sets the merman down in the shallows, eyes on Jaskier's tail as it rests limply upon the shifting sands. Jaskier, of course, offers no resistance, merely tenses and huffs when Geralt slips his arms out from beneath him. He dips his head back to submerge his face, and Geralt watches the subtle gills along his throat flex as he readjusts. It brings relief, almost, knowing that maybe he'll survive.

Geralt kneels there in the sands for... gods, he isn't sure how many minutes pass before Jaskier finally stirs again, opening his eyes and blinking up at Geralt from where he's only barely floating above the seafloor. He's almost limp, laying on his side, less-lacerated shoulder supporting him, tail motionless and arms halfheartedly folded.

It... hurts to see.

"I'm going to go get the potions," Geralt says, voice a bit louder than normal; he knows Jaskier can hear him. "Focus on resting."

The merman, once again, doesn't react, and Geralt tries to ignore the stab of pain that goes through his gut. He stands with a sigh, returning to Roach, who has been observing everything in telling silence. She stands patiently as he rummages through her saddlebags; he keeps the potions safe for humans and other non-witcher beings here, not wanting to clog up his own belts and pockets with things he can't grab and down in a heartbeat.

He picks out a vial full of a deep green liquid, one that glistens in the sunlight as he walks back into the gently-rolling water. Jaskier twists over onto his front when Geralt nears, and it's obvious the motion causes him pain; his tail convulses briefly, and his face contorts, but he rests his elbows on the sand to lift his head from the water regardless. "Can you drink?" Geralt asks.

Jaskier merely nods, watching him with an unreadable expression in those glossed-over eyes as Geralt kneels at his side once more. Deciding that's answer enough when Jaskier could well die before the sun rises, Geralt uncorks the vial, setting a gentle hand beneath Jaskier's chin to steady him as he tips the potion to his lips.

His eyes rake over the merman's body once more as he drinks, taking in the way his throat works, the deep and angry burns across his skin, the lacerations here and there...

He won't survive, not like this.

Suddenly lost within that train of thought, Geralt goes still.

It isn't until Jaskier begins to cough and choke that he jolts himself back into the present, pulling the half-empty vial away from the merman's mouth and waiting until he's steadied out some before he says, "Jaskier, you... is there any safe spot nearby? Like the tide pool?"

Something like pain flashes through the merman's eyes, but it's not physical pain.

Geralt recognizes it all too well.

"I'm not going to leave you," he breaks in, before Jaskier can get a word out. "Not again. I need to get you somewhere safe so I can treat the wounds and so you can rest. That's all."

Jaskier hesitates, looks away; finally, he nods, saying quietly, "Further south along the shore, there should - there's a little lagoon..."

"How far away?"

"Around the next bend," he mumbles, and he sounds tired, so tired...

Geralt curses under his breath, saying as he reaches for him yet again, "Stay awake... just a little longer."

--

It's maybe a ten, fifteen minute ride along the shore and around the curve.

Geralt keeps Jaskier cradled in his arms, clucking to Roach and nudging her with his heels to keep her straight, but the mare knows what to do; she moves slowly, head steady and pace even, as if she knows just how important the extra weight on her back is.

The lagoon is small, barely any wider across than your average tavern, shut off from the ocean by bits of shore that stretched too far into the waters and refused to draw away. The inland forest has crept up close, heavy trees fading into palms near the water's edge, and it's...

Well, it's beautiful.

Even Geralt, halfway blinded by the panic that rises in his chest with the merman's every labored breath, has to admit it.

"We're here," he says aloud, soft, and Jaskier jumps, his eyes blinking open. "I'm going to set you in the water, okay?"

He isn't surprised when Jaskier doesn't react.

That doesn't make it any easier to bear.

Heaving a sigh, he adjusts his grip on the merman, swinging his leg over Roach's back and sliding to the ground in as smooth a movement as he can manage, bearing a couple hundred extra pounds in his arms.

Jaskier stays quiet as Geralt carries him to the lagoon, stays quiet as he's laid down in the clear and shallow water. He rests his body on the sands without being told, deep enough that he's submerged except for his head and shoulders when he props himself up once again. Geralt's hand brushes over one of the worst cuts when he draws back, and Jaskier winces, nearly whines -

"I'm sorry," Geralt says, low, and turns back to Roach. He comes back with another potion and a small vial of salve, one he's opening as he kneels at Jaskier's side. "I'll set up camp here, just inside the trees..."

"Don't stay for me," Jaskier interrupts, and it's the first thing he's said in quite a while, and it's so soft, so uncertain...

Geralt feels his heart break.

He shakes his head, dipping his hand into the salve and reaching beneath the water's surface to smooth it along Jaskier's sun-raw back. It's waterproof, or at least waterproof enough, so he has few qualms with this. "I'm staying," he says, just as soft. "I won't leave you again. I shouldn't have left to begin with."

The merman says nothing.

Geralt didn't expect him to.

--

It's difficult, those first few days.

Jaskier lacks the strength to move much on his own - to do anything beyond sinking below the surface and raising back up to drink whatever potion or plant concoction Geralt is offering.

Food, he says, nauseates him to even contemplate.

Geralt tries to hide how badly that thought scares him.

--

The fourth day, Jaskier begins to decline.

Despite Geralt's best efforts - despite countless fucking hours of sitting at the shore, of kneeling beside him in the water, of pouring every potion he thinks could possibly be safe down his throat - the merman is weak.

He is weak, and he is dying, and, well...

Geralt sees only one option.

It's a day's ride to the nearest town, but it's less than a half day to the mouth of the river the other witcher is said to be stationed alongside.

Leaving Jaskier with a quiet whisper of, "I swear to you, I'll return," and a kiss upon his forehead, he mounts up on Roach, and turns for the trees.

He prays to the whole fucking pantheon that things will be okay.

- - - - -

@xdandelionxbloomx @w-s-kibela @justjessiehere @wrenbug @golden-aire-girl @the-little-red-queen @littleredhotsridinghood @ladyaulis @flootzavut @g-e-r-a-s-k-i-e-r @insert-cleverurl @animaniac1017 @brothers-of-the-heart @jaskierisanangel @gray-coal @weakforjaskier @xpixelle @teddylacroix @flustratedcas @1stbonesfan

i hope i didn’t miss anyone! thank you all. third part on the horizon!