#A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric

[thesealovesme]

@bloominghands​ HOWLED: Offers himb;; a soft hug 🥺🌸

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:;

Easy company was sometimes as much a curse as it was a boon, allowing for a little too much honesty to slip between the cracks of conversations - the ashen behemoth wasn’t exactly the best to discuss the more heavy topics, but he did excel in listening without fuss... and at times, mentioning his own experiences just in case it seemed like a subject was a touchy thing.     The nature goddess carried herself with such an elegant dignity, quiet and morose yet incredibly kind - he had killed those slandering her name, once, even without really knowing the exact details behind her bounty... whatever it was, the flowering beauty deserved better than a few drunk punks in a bar defacing her divine rights.   ... at least, she showed him kindness, and that was enough. A glance askance, noting the beckoning stance, an obvious offer for closeness, and the hound tilted his head in unspoken inquiry - had he misspoken? Perhaps something he had let slip had hit somewhere deep...?        ... .. hesitation was always ugly on him, but an embrace from her might be too much, for he was so very susceptible to that all-encompassing, safe feeling that he had lost so long ago. 

Finally, a sigh escaped from deep within a barrel chest, and he’d lean just a bit, scratchy chin resting tenderly on her shoulder, essentially going inert as warmth pressed against him.            If nothing was done, he would definitely fall asleep.      He was incredibly heavy, but he knew she was capable of handling that much.

#bloominghands #Found the snail| |Answered #BLOODY MOON| |Maveric #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #[[ HE SEEMP ]] #[[ COMFEE ]]

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 3

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

My Ko-Fi

Crowley spent the two days drinking, thinking, and wallowing, in that order. First, he got rip-roaring drunk, then kept going past that into a maudlin type of drunkenness. That led to the thinking, which had been much harder than normal, but also much more honest.

The sun was just coming up over the horizon and he watched as all of London was bathed in warm light. He was scared. He could admit that to himself easily, especially when he was so drunk. What he was scared of was a little more complicated, and Crowley had been thinking on it for the better part of three hours. Because on the one hand, he was worried about Heaven and Hell and the safety of any hypothetical little ones. He really was. But on the other hand, he’d said something during their fight that he hadn’t realized he’d been worried about.

Demon spawn were A Thing, and they were generally terrible. Sometimes a demon decided to have some fun on the mortal level and demons weren’t known for being the most careful of beings. Best case scenario was something that was essentially a demon, but mortal. Worst case whatever came out was some sort of writhing mass of demonic energy and hatred. Would that happen to any of his offspring too? Or would the angelic influences cancel it out? But the Nephilim had been somewhat monstrous too, so was it a lost cause from both ends?

And that was where the thinking transitioned into wallowing. Because he was also drunk enough to admit that he really, really wanted to give in to Aziraphale’s badgering, hang the consequences. They’d at least have some time before having to face what they’d done. Who knew how long demon-angel hybrid babies took to form, or gestate or whatever (Crowley only knew as much as he did from his time working on a London pediatrics ward. He was supposed to have been sowing the seeds of evil in the new generation, but he ended up delivering and caring for more newborns than anything else). 

But the guilt would be too much. He couldn’t bring a child into this world knowing it was doomed to be some sort of horror that never fit in. He’d love them, of course, whatever they were or would become but to imagine the difficulty of growing up in a world that would detest them... Well, at least Crowley had been fully formed and matured when it had happened to him. 

He ran out of scotch on the balcony by noon of the first day. But he wasn’t done sulking so he moved back inside and on to the brandy. Brandy was the perfect spirit to drink while tormenting his plants, though there were only a few left in the flat. They were his favourite, and he kept them here to avoid the angel over-indulging and spoiling them. 

“Yooooou lot,” he slurred, brandishing his spray bottle in one hand and the brandy in the other. “You don’t argue with me! Y-y-you’re all jus’ plants!”

A hydrangea, who had long exceeded it’s expected lifespan by several years and was one of the most verdant plants in Crowley’s collection, leaned towards him sympathetically. Most of these plants had been with him for years and had grown a kind of fondness for their tyrannical, but caring master. Crowley spared the hydrangea a glance over, inspecting it for blemishes. He found none. 

“Yoooou’re not compli--complicated, you’re not good or-or-or-or evil. You’re jus’ plants!” The while lily near the door shuddered, knowing things were really bad if the demon was repeating himself. Crowley never liked to repeat himself. 

“If you wanna have b-b-babies you can jus’ drop seeds!” His voice cracked at the end so he wet his parched mouth with some more brandy. “I like sssseeds, such ma-marv-maver--nice little thingss.” Four letter words, good Lord he was sloshed. Dropping the spray bottle and picking up the watering can Crowley deftly overwatered a nearby ivy. Luckily the ivy knew better than to wilt. 

“Like little things, like babiesss, an’ kids. Not sooooo much t-teenagerss but they’ve got ssspirit!” All the plants were leaning in now. Some of them opened up a few extra blooms, offering comfort in the way only plants knew how. “Alwaysss thought I’d make a shit p-parent though, an’ look how Warlock turned out…”

“Could be different, though, raisin’ one and not t-trying to make it, you know, not the Antichrissst.” Indeed he hadn’t been so much raising Warlock as he had been coaching him. And if he and Aziraphale were to do it together properly this time who knows what could happen? “Still can’t though. Angel n’a demon, probably be smited for even trying. Smote? Sssmitten?”

He pondered that for a while, letting the last few glugs of water drip out of his watering can and onto the floor. It was a lost cause though because all he could think about was tiny angel babies with their soft, fluffy hair and little grabby hands. “D’you think they’d look like him? I hope they do.” Crowley was idly swaying back and forth, lost in his daydream. “Hope they have his nose an’ eyess at least, mine are terrible. But m’wings are nicer so…” 

“I don’t wanna be sscared,” he said quietly to his favourite rose bush. “I want to--I want to give Azirahale what he wants. I want what he wantsss, and if I gave in we could both have it but I’m ssscared!”

The argument last night had left Crowley unable to sleep, but he was getting tired now. Maybe he should use his last day and a half--he checked his fancy watch; day and a quarter--to sleep this off. Tossing the spray bottle somewhere towards the wall--it would be back in its place the next time he went to use it--and heading towards his bedroom, Crowley realized he hadn’t yet texted Aziraphale like he’d promised. No matter, his phone was on the bedside table anyway. He could let the angel know he’d be back tomorrow, and they could make up. Nevermind how that was going to happen, since they both still had opposing views on the matter.

The first time he had come to stay at the flat after he and Aziraphale had a tiff, the angel had blown up his phone with calls and texts. Crowley had done the same the first time Aziraphale locked himself away in his study and refused to come out. They had since come to an understanding and formed a system of brief check-ins and hard time limits to ease each other's anxiety. They stuck to the rules, and it seemed to be a good way of letting off some steam and ending arguments, as long as they talked about it afterward. 

This time, Crowley had been a little lax in his following of their rules. It had already been nearly an entire day of no-contact and Aziraphale had been sending worried messages for at least six hours. To his credit there were only a few voicemails, which Crowley would listen to later, and not the deluge there had been that first time. They were all standard fare, Aziraphale calling in the morning after Crowley left, then calling back around lunch. The angel was doing a good job of keeping the worry out of his voice, but Crowley could tell it was there. 

Immediately Crowley sent off a text assuring Aziraphale he was fine and had lost track of time, complete with heart emojis, then fell into bed. As drunk as he was it didn’t take very long for him to drift off, even though he forgot to change into anything comfortable or get under the covers. 

Crowley walked into their cottage in time for tea the next day carrying a selection of cake slices. He didn’t really have anything to apologize for, but coming back empty-handed felt wrong. Plus the cakes might distract from the hangover Crowley had. He’d meant to fix himself up before bed, but hadn’t and now his head ached too bad to focus on any demonic miracles.

“I’m home!” he called out into the foyer, toeing off his shoes and kicking them haphazardly out of the doorway. The house smelled like old books and tea, which was better than burning food. The second time Crowley had taken some time to himself Aziraphale had decided to take up baking to soothe his nerves. It hadn’t gone well. “I brought cake!”

Aziraphale came around from his study and stood in the doorway, hovering. “Welcome home dear. Did I hear you say cake?”

This was the routine when Crowley returned. Whether in the right or wrong he’d come back bearing treats and Aziraphale would flitter about like he didn’t know if he should stay or go. Eventually, they’d both sit down and talk about what happened, which had twice led to Crowley storming back out and more often led to lovely make-up sex. He wasn’t sure what to expect this time, given the thing they were arguing about. There wasn’t much to talk about, either Aziraphale dropped it, or he didn’t. Crowley didn’t want to think about what would happen if Aziraphale didn’t drop it.

“Yeah, picked some up on my way over from that little bakery where they mill their own flour. Figured it was pretentious enough that you’d like it,” Crowley teased, none too eager to get to the heart of their issues. What if he and Aziraphale couldn’t move past this? What if this was the thing that ended them, not their former sides, or the Apocolypse, or their opposing natures? Crowley wasn’t sure he could survive without the angel in his life, but he also wasn’t sure he could concede on this particular issue. He also wasn’t sure if he could stick to his guns for too much longer, given what he’d realized last night. 

“Oh hush you. Take it into the kitchen I’ll be there in just a tick.” Crowley nodded and went through, surreptitiously glancing around their home. Aziraphale was prone to fussing with the layout of things when he was left to his own devices, just like he had at the bookshop. There he’d been able to justify it as a tactic to confuse customers and discourage book purchases. In the cottage, however, it was obvious he did it from anxiety. Everything looked to be in order though, so Crowley continued on and set the cakes down on the table. With a snap of his fingers, the slices were laid out on plates and the kettle was boiling for tea. 

“Early Grey or Twinings?” he called over his shoulder towards where Aziraphale’s office was. He could hear the angel moving about back there and assumed he was cleaning up whatever he had been using to preoccupy himself with while Crowley was away. 

“Twinings please, dearest,” Aziraphale answered, his voice muffled. Must be messing with his book storage, Crowley thought, pouring each of them a cup with shakey hands. He really wished he’d spent less time drinking and sleeping yesterday, and more time actually thinking about what he was going to say to Aziraphale. All he’d figured out was that they had to worry about a lot more than just Heaven and Hell’s reaction and that if Aziraphale kept asking, he might not be strong enough to refuse. 

“Tea’s ready,” he mumbled, taking his own and perching on the edge of a dining chair. Of course, Aziraphale still heard him and walked quickly into the room looking more than a little flustered. With an excited wiggle he took a seat and began to fawn over the cakes. “Take whichever you want, I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure dear? That dark chocolate mouse cake looks right up your ally,” Aziraphale pointed out, digging into his strawberry shortcake. He was right, Crowley had bought that slice of cake specifically for himself. It would have been not too sweet and everything he liked in a desert, but the worry about what needed to be said had ruined his appetite. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” Aziraphale glanced down to his slice, then set his silverware down regretfully. “I said go ahead angel, I don’t mind.”

Aziraphale leaned forward a little, his hands disappearing under the table. Crowley knew from experience they would find their way under his thighs, crushed tight against the chair’s wood in an effort to keep them from flitting all over. Another habit from Aziraphale’s time with Heaven, where any stimming had been harshly discouraged. “No, I think we have a lot to talk about. And I want to apologize. Again.”

Crowley remained silent, knowing that Aziraphale had probably prepared what he wanted to say. As usual he was correct. 

“I was wrong to keep asking you about… it when you told me not to. I was being selfish, and not thinking about how you felt and terribly rude. And then you came back after I was so horrible and you came back with cake!” Aziraphale’s voice was getting louder and more high pitched as he went. It was obvious he was getting upset with himself but Crowley knew that interrupting him right now would only make things worse. “I got excited, and then I was pushy and I hurt you, dearest. I’m so sorry. I-I know I can be a little, well, tone-deaf but you said I was making you upset so explicitly and I just ignored you! How could I do that to you? Oh Crowley I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

Aziraphale had begun rocking back and forth a tiny amount, quick little movements that he probably didn’t even notice he was making. “You’re right, of course. It’s so very dangerous, and I wasn’t thinking about it when you obviously had. I want to make it up to you, Crowley, if I even can.”

It hadn’t been what Crowley was expecting, given how persistent Aziraphale could be, and it was honestly a little disappointing. He may have been secretly hoping that the angel would be able to convince him, or had maybe thought of something Crowley had missed that would give them the go-ahead. But this was OK too, this meant they wouldn’t have to fight anymore and he wouldn’t have to keep thinking about it and they could move on. 

“Oh uh, yeah. Apology accepted angel. I’m sorry I stormed out.” Crowley was always quick to forgive Aziraphale, it was like it was impossible for him to stay angry at the angel. Though the way Aziraphale’s disrespect of his boundaries still stung, Crowley didn’t want to hold a grudge and make things worse, so he wouldn’t. 

“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale stopped rocking but kept his hands firmly under his legs. Usually, this was the point where they hugged and made up, but his angel was still sitting, slightly tense. “Was your time away helpful?”

Crowley shrugged noncommittally. Aziraphale didn’t ask what he did when he was he spent time away after a fight, and he was immediately suspicious. “Sure, checked on the plants, slept for a while. The usual.” He left out the drinking. Over the last 5 years or so Aziraphale had grown concerned with the amount Crowley drank, even if he was an immortal being incapable of experiencing withdrawal. He had cut back, but times like the other night were another story. 

“Good, good.” The silence was back, and heavier. “And I assume that, from this point on, you do not wish to discuss that issue again?” The tentative nature of Aziraphale’s vice made it hard to hear if he was disappointed, or just being himself. Crowley cleared his throat. 

“That's probably for the best yeah.” But oh he wanted, wanted, wanted. It was killing him to deny them this thing that any old human could have easily. They could have anything else in the world, with their powers, but not this. 

“Alright, you won’t hear me speak another word about it. If you ever want to--well I’ll follow you lead dearest.” And Now Aziraphale was leaning over, one of his hands taking Crowley’s and squeezing. It was extremely warm from being tucked under his legs, but the demon still felt cold. “Now, if you’d like, I think you should try that ca--”

They were interrupted by an insistent knock on the front door. It was very rare for them to have guests and even rarer that they should drop by unexpectedly. The only other time anyone arrived was for deliveries, and even those were few and far between. 

“Oh, I wonder who that could be!” Aziraphale seemed all too eager to have something else to focus on, and to be honest Crowley was as well. He rose from the table, cakes and tea forgotten, and bustled to the door. Crowley stayed in the kitchen, trying to collect the unspooled pieces of himself. It was over, they had Talked, and now they could move on and everything would be just fine! Crowley repeated that over and over in his head, trying to drown out the wanting; just fine. He was so focused on not wanting that he almost missed Aziraphale’s sharp “oh dear!”. Almost, but not quite.

“Everything alright angel?” He was on his feet and sauntering into the foyer. Sometimes a particularly brave canvasser for some local church or scam organization would show up and Crowley had to scare them off. Often Aziraphale was too polite to do so himself, especially if they didn’t take to his subtle hints. Only once had the angel gotten stern with someone, and that had been when they tried to good old ‘foot in the door’ technique. In that instance, Crowley had had to save the canvasser form Aziraphale. 

That wasn’t what he found when he waltzed through the doorway. Standing there was Gabriel and Beezelbub in all their Heavenly and Hellish glory. They wore the same expression, of annoyance mixed with a large dash of disgust. “Oh shit.”

#fanfic #good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale/crowley #crowziraphale #azirapahel #tw mpreg #mpreg #fbafs

[sourpatchkidshq]

this rp has been a long time coming not only for me, but for all of you as well. i just want to thank anyone and everyone who applied, because just seeing people interested and devoted to something i created with my heart and soul is so amazing and it makes me so happy to be here on this website. but that’s enough sappy stuff, alright? under the cut you can find those who have been accepted.

please create your account (no side blogs) and send in within 48 hours or your spot will be reopened. once again, thank you so much!

are you ready, corey stephens ?

welcome COREY STEPHENS to bellwood, nebraska ! say, you look a lot like cody christian ! congratulations BROOKE ! we were so excited to see an app for one of our prized nonbinaries, and i believe i speak for both mads and i when i say that your app blew us away ! you truly got the character and drove deep into their algorithm, and i believe we’re going to have an amazing time with them !

hop on in, gwen mavers !

welcome GWEN MAVERS to bellwood, nebraska ! say, you look a lot like liana liberato ! congratulations SCAR ! mads and i both knew hands down that you were perfect for gwen. you added layer on top of layer on top of layer of not only character discovery, but character development from start to end ! i am so excited to begin roleplaying with you !

take off, quinn taylor !

welcome QUINN TAYLOR to bellwood, nebraska ! say, you look a lot like lily collins ! congratulations EMZY ! quinn has been one of my favorite characters since this reboot began, as i made them and corey two new additions in my hopes to restart this rp. it warms my heart to see someone so interested in them, and i can’t wait to see what you have planned for them !

scared, jensen anchorbie ?

welcome JENSEN ANCHORBIE to bellwood, nebraska ! say, you look a lot like ross butler ! congratulations NICOLE ! jensen has always been near and dear to my heart--- what can i say, i love the jock type ! your app was absolutely amazing, and i can truly say that you are the epitome of anchorbie material. i can’t wait to see your writing in person !

play it loud, valencia campos !

welcome VALENCIA CAMPOS to bellwood, nebraska ! say, you look a lot like madelaine petsch ! congratulations HARPER ! hands down, without a doubt, you were the best valencia applicant i have seen this entire last year ! there was so much depth in your app that even i didn’t see when first creating her ! i believe you are a perfect match !

schools out, althea anderson ! 

welcome ALTHEA ANDERSON to bellwood, nebraska ! say, you look a lot like alisha boe ! congratulations TEDDY ! almost everyone knows that althea was my brain child. i created her, start to finish, and was set to play her in the originial opening of spk, but lost muse and switched to my darling child, ricky, but oh my lord you surprised me. i never thought i could truly see someone else play althea to her original glory, but you did just that ! i am so excited to rp with you !

it’s gonna be the time of our lives !

#spkaccepted #semi appless rp #travel rp #roadtrip rp #skeleton rp #new rp

[l-promised-him]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔉𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔬𝔪: Freedom Isn’t Free

    @augenbrauefreiheit in response to 🦅

☕—“And what are your wings for…?

              ¿˙˙˙ɹoɟ sƃuᴉʍ ɹnoʎ ǝɹɐ ʇɐɥʍ pu∀

           “Levi.                      I have another proposition for you.        I left my glasses back within Paradise,                     and I believe I’ll need them for the upcoming events, my vision is failing me, ever since my bloodhound passed away.   I’ve lost my map, so it is up to you to find another way,                       retrieve them for me, if you can.“

 For the ‘White Eagle’ to mention the both of them - he was practically being blackmailed right now.   

  Mike Zacharias. He had been one of the few who could boast having bested Levi in a confrontation. In his memories, existed the wretched hour when that behemoth with an uncanny sense of smell had gripped the back of his head, and soaked his gaze with the filth of the Underground. In his memories, existed the countless hours afterwards, when his blades had flashed beside Zacharias’, as their speed and power had flexed in vicious tandem against the enemy. And, in Levi’s memories, existed the names upon a certain report. In that hour, he’d realized that Mike was never coming back. The space beside Erwin’s shoulder would remain achingly empty - and Levi knew, for all his dedication, that Erwin had lost something more pivotal than his right arm that day.

        ‘Bloodhound.’ 

              It was Levi’s old, familiar taunt between them, at Mike’s tendency to navigate through scents as easily as another person might peruse a map. Life had made the word a grave. Erwin had made it into code. Levi interpreted it as impetus.

    ❝I get it, I get it. I’ll drag back your Shitty Glasses for you, Erwin.

   You’re being a real pain right now, I hope you know. ...sending me off to run your damn errands like I don’t have my own affairs to deal with.  These brats are nearly as troublesome as you. Are you listening?

    No more acting like a careless child here on out.

          You’d better keep up with your shit, this time.❞

  Hange Zoe. What a nostalgic mission. How many times had he grasped reins and set out, under the directive of collecting the excitable veteran? Ah, but this time was different. He wasn’t out to chase Hange down  - but rather, to bring her forward. The edges of his mouth played upwards faintly, in amusement.

 Levi just knew that she was going to flip her shit over the novel technology placed at her fingertips.

        There would be no living with her, then, but he would gratefully endure it, regardless.    

    ❝While you’ve entrapped me on this stupid snail, I’ll give my report.

 The effort to rescue the mutt was a success, as you might’ve assumed. He’s fine. But the pound failed to reach my standards in any respect, and so Braun gave them a stern once-over until they were kissing their own asses goodbye.

     The proceeds illegally obtained from mistreating the occupants have already been forwarded to you. It’s rotten blood-money, but I trust you to do something decent with it. I, of course, reimbursed myself from that amount, the cost it would have taken to re-claim the dumb dog.

    For the trouble of having to walk through such a filthy structure.❞

     Ought he mention ‘Bloody Moon Maveric?’ A vague pause, almost awkward, transpired over a moment’s course, as the divergence between a bond more solid and well-designed than his own skeleton, and the haphazard friendship he had forged with some rough-spoken, weary-eyed ruffian, came into focus.

   Erwin was sunlight; clean and scalding - abolishing that which was unclear, illuminating truths, facts, and structures. He was warmth from the cold, respite from the unknown. Bright. Youthful. Harsh. Sharp appearance, passion wrought into progress, single-minded and silver-tongued. Erwin was always gazing far ahead, his mind’s eye affixed in a high, distant goal.  

  Maveric was nightfall. Music, mystery, a cool indifference for the rigidity of the world, beyond. He was irreverent, self-indulgent, and candid. He soothed at tragedy, obscured the abrasive effects of the day with meaningless, mystical faith. Maveric was enthralled by the moment at hand. Did he even entertain a ‘bigger picture’? What the hell was his goal, anyway?  

   And Myrundiel Mourningale - should he bother naming the individuals who called the Freiheit their home? ...it was such a sullen feeling, to exist in a hesitation when Erwin was still poised to hear his words.

                “My world is getting fuller by the day, Erwin.

                               Are you, too, filling empty spaces with faces I don’t know, either?” 

    ❝We're doing well, here. Don’t worry about the map.

            I’ll get a course charted some-fucking-how.

                                 ...oi, Erwin.

      You know what a real good use of that money that doesn’t yet exist in the books would be?

    ...you should let me take you to this island we found a little while ago. It’s made of hundreds of tiny islands, like the arils in a pomegranate. They float on top of permanent geysers.

  ‘A natural wonder’ that eggheads like you really enjoy.

      There’s a shitty festival, and scenic restaurants. Classy shit.

     Don’t give me tired excuses, either. I know you’re busy waving the geriatric stink of the the Gorosei’s collective farts from over your shoulder, but doesn’t that just mean you need a leave, all the more?

   I can...make the arrangements. So just make some fucking time.❞

   He then immediately hung up.

    Rather, his cold sweat had.

    His report had become some sort of a flippant proposition for a weekend reverie.

    Was this why he didn’t often venture often into verbal, long-distance communication?

    Was it some sort of mind-altering effect that the Den Den Mushi produced at proximity? 

     No, the mystery that held the highest priority in solving here, was the challenge of how to reach Paradis, again. ...an island that did not exist according to maps, Log Poses, or sight... It would perhaps take an eager, incomprehensible mind to map out the island where an eager, incomprehensible mind - waited. 

          —Isn’t the sky within your cage,                                     ‘ǝƃɐɔ ɹnoʎ uᴉɥʇᴉʍ ʎʞs ǝɥʇ ʇ,usI

                                            too narrow for you?.”                                                      “¿noʎ ɹoɟ ʍoɹɹɐu ooʇ

#The Most Freedom #𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔉𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔬𝔪 #Freedom Isn't Free; Chapter Six #𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔡; Freedom's Wings #Formation: Standard Excursion; Attack On OnePiece #augenbrauefreiheit #leadheir #iitansha

[thesealovesme]

@necroarchy​ HOWLED: How much more must you lose due to your weakness before you do something about it.

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:; 

OH, STUPID CHILD,                 DID YOU EVER STOP TO CONSIDER YOU DESERVE REJECTION?     Of course he had - and survival was his penance. For all those foolish enough to save his worthless hide, he had brought naught but disappointment, despair and death.    For his Beloved, he proved an ungrateful, selfish brat, cursing her name until she finally CURSED HIM BACK.   And for his benefactor, he that took in a feral stray, he had first left and proved NOTHING, only to return and fail utterly in the single task given to him. He was no guardian, so why pretend as such? Those he had tried to protect, those whose past bumped hard against his, all he had managed to do for them was sink a few boats. For her who brought his mind back from the brink, well, the depths had taken her just the same, the dangling charm at his throat his only parting gift.         He still couldn’t read, and in his haste to defend she that smelled so like the sea, she had witnessed the cause for his epithet. There was a break in the film reel, and his expression shredded itself into frame, razor gold sinking into an ocean of white as jaws parted, a sudden swell of rage drizzling out just as soon as it reared.

                     “.. what... what th’ hell am I supposed te’ go an’ do about it?            Get stronger? That what ye’ want me to say?                   Ain’t this what bein’ a pirate is about?      The freedom ta’ fuck up whenever ye’ want? ..hau hau hau.... HAAUU HAU HAU!!                                                  THAT’S RIGHT, THAT’S HOW IT BE!          Everything, then! How about that for an answer?                      Until the tide takes me and returns me to my Beloved,                                          I don’t feel like changing a thing!“

#Found the snail| |Answered #CHAINED;;HOLD BACK RAGNAROK| |Maveric #BLOODY MOON| |Maveric #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #Zoey;;DEATH DOES NOT ABSOLVE THESE TIES| |Zoen #Violet Ferret Queen;;WE WILL SURVIVE| |Loni #Doffy;;Heaven called and still no one ANSWERED| |Doflamingo #Tanuki Brat;;FREEDOM IS THE ONLY OUTCOME| |Levi #Little fish;;SEA SALT ON MUSTY PAGES| |Aya #[[ mmm DON'T LIKE THIS QUESTION ]]

[thesealovesme]

@acherys​ HOWLED: *pounds table* give her a kish! give! zoen! a kish! writing maveric giving zoen a kish!

you never specified age so i get to make this sad

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:;

And who here was the ghost? Was it her, who truly died in agony and horror only to return with purpose and passion? Or he, whose body continued to breathe, yet whose spirit had died thrice over?   Was it her, who made bonds and lead armies, who struggled valiantly against bitter odds, who fought her demons and only lost a few times? She who fought GODS and changed the world?      Or was it him, who was a specter? He who could not, and would not, fight against GODS, he who held nothing close and failed to defend what he held dear, he who smashed to bits every important thing, until REJECTION was the forefront of a waning sanity.                                  (AFTER ALL, IT IS YOU WHO WAS FORGOTTEN,                     NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND.                     GHOSTS ARE THE PAST THAT ONE HAS MOVED ON FROM.             WHICH MAKES YOU....) Even now, he trailed behind her like a lingering haunt, as useful as a rotten apple core, the only one among them who recalled the honey-sweet scent and view of golden wheat, the seafoam brightness that reminded him of his Beloved.                 He really was a fuck-up of a guy, wasn’t he?                                She was lucky she didn’t remember calling him ‘Big brother’. A fuckup, sure - but he was also relentlessly selfish - so here was a broad palm, extended first to take hold a firm grip against a strong, cold shoulder, to gently beckon the deathly knight to look his way.    A free palm, calloused beyond the ability to feel much, would sweep icy locks from her brow, and even if she opted to behead him before he could make contact, a pair of scarred lips pressed evenly against the revealed dead skin.       He had done things like that, a long time ago, she had to show him how, of course, since he’d mostly just growl about it... Palms would raise immediately afterwards in an idle surrender, and if no soul-stealing weapon had made itself known to his innards, the ashen beast would back up.

                              “Eesh, ye’ stink, Zoey.”

#acherys #Zoey;;DEATH DOES NOT ABSOLVE THESE TIES| |Zoen #Found the snail| |Answered #I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE THE SEA| |Maveric #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #[[ if she kills him i'll understand ]]

[thesealovesme]

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆. ( repost, don’t reblog )

   basics

NAME: Maveric Unelanvhi NICKNAME: Mav, Mavvy, Dumb Mutt, Mavvy-poo, Sea Hobo, Old Man. AGE: Twenty Seven SPECIES: Nouryokusha - Zoan, Human -Tenryuubito.

   personal

MORALITY: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / grey / evil. RELIGION:  Worships the Sea God of the Grand Line. SINS: greed  /  gluttony  / sloth  / lust /  pride  /  envy  /  wrath. VIRTUES: chastity  /  charity  /  diligence  /  humility  /  kindness  /  patience  /  justice PRIMARY GOALS IN LIFE: To survive and live so as to prove his love to the sea for saving his life many years ago, possessed prior goals of protecting and guarding Zoen, and has many short term plans of providing companionship to various people. KNOWN  LANGUAGES:   Common tongue of the Grand Line, can speak the language of beasts.

   physical

BUILD: scrawny  /  bony  / slender /  fit /  athletic  /  curvy  /  herculean  /  pudgy  /  average. HEIGHT: 6′6′‘, 201cm. WEIGHT: Around 300lbs, about 136kg. SCARS  /  BIRTHMARKS: He’s covered in scars from the various injuries suffered on the prehistoric island he survived at a young age, ranging from lacerations from dinosaurs and dire wolves to burns from acidic toxins from hostile plantlife. His signature lip scar was gained from cutting his mouth open on Yarou’s spines after falling from the ship as a child, and was the first injury he had ever suffered in his life. Other scarring was likely gained just from being a stupid pirate. ABILITIES  /  POWERS: Extreme strength and durability, is in possession of the Okami Okami no Mi; Model: Dire Wolf, which gives the user the ability to transform into varying degrees of a massive warg. Maveric is also a master of Busoshoku Haki, to the point where he can even coat a very close living creature(Yarou) as one would their weapon. This mastery of Armament also allows him to coat his vocal chords in Haki, giving him his signature move ‘Hangman’s Howl’, which is akin to a destructive soundblast.  RESTRICTIONS: Seastone cancels out Devil Fruit capabilities, and Maveric is EXTREMELY susceptible to it, even getting tired merely from the smell. He cannot swim, and will be unconscious the moment he touches the ocean. 

   favorites

FOOD: Anything you can grill over an open fire. DRINK: Alcohol, he prefers the sweeter varieties, like rum, also floral teas. PIZZA  TOPPING: I can imagine he’d probably like something horrible like anchovies or pineapple. COLOR: Red, pink, and the color of wheat. MUSIC  GENRE: Shanties, classical, anything with vocal, and piano. BOOK GENRE: bitch can’t read MOVIE  GENRE: he doesn’t. know what movies are. SEASON: likes winter and autumn islands. CURSE  WORD: Fuck. SCENTS: Sea breezes, florals, sweet scents.

   fun stuff

BOTTOM  OR  TOP:   mostly tops, wouldn’t really care either way. SINGS  IN  THE  SHOWER: he’ll sing anywhere, he doesn’t have to be wet LIKES  PUNS: iF HE FUCKIN UNDERSTANDS THEM

TAGGED BY: @maljefe TY LITTLE QUEEN TAGGING: @acherys​ @spiral-chronicler @bloominghands​ @bucketfullofocs @necroarchy @heavenly-grievance @headlesstraitor @glxtzy @velociixa @whatliveson @auriferous-flare​ @seraphiixa​ @feliidae​ @priszma​ @zahraalgernon​ AND ANYONE ELSE THAT SEES THIS!!

#BLOODY MOON| |Maveric #Where's that Snail| |MEMES #I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE THE SEA| |Maveric #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #[[ he's like the king of nicknames but i can never remember what everyone's called him gdjksjKHFDSIGJ ]] #[[ but also you could probably just like scoop a cup of beach water and toss it at him ]] #[[ and he'll just fall over like you kicked him in the anchor ]]

[thesealovesme]

📂 gimme five hcs about habits

FIVE!! FIVE!!!!!!!!?

Due to the conditions of the prehistoric island he had been abandoned on in his childhood and being hunted constantly during said formative years, Maveric’s sleeping habits are somewhat chaotic, and he is prone to either literally never sleeping or being unconscious for two whole days, depending on whether his mind is kind to him. If he does sleep around you, however, he trusts you implicitly.

He eats like a shonen hero, being in possession of three hundred solid pounds of pure muscle. This boy can empty a restaurant of its contents, but probably can’t afford it, so he just relies on what he can get.

Maveric hates transforming, and will rarely do so unless pushed to that point. He doesn’t like wolves, he doesn’t like his devil fruit - he utilized it more when he was younger for survival, but at his current level of strength, he generally doesn’t have a hard time.

He squints so much because he can’t fucking see. His sense of smell and hearing, however, are even more capable than your average canine, even when in human form.

If he asks to sing with you, then he’s extremely comfortable, if he’s singing alone, then he’s also comfortable and likely contemplative, join him. If Maveric starts singing during a conversation or interaction, he’s about to fucking kill someone.

#solaoccasum #Where's that Snail| |MEMES #Found the snail| |Answered #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE THE SEA| |Maveric #How DIRE it all is| |Maveric #[[ like a funeral dirge ]]

[thesealovesme]

(/totally an anon.) So, you’ve met the Devil Child, have you?

@bloominghands

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:;

   Uninterested comprehension only made manifest by the final straw, a wanted poster being crammed unceremoniously into the path of languid citrine, and an ashen brow was arched as a loaded gun.  Devil.                    Devil?                                      (WHERE DID THAT DEVIL INSIDE YE’ COME FROM?)Toxic mirth burning the accusation to ash, a rumbling, ugly howl that echoed across the establishment without mercy or creed to the guests enjoying their drink.       IF SURVIVAL WAS SIN, THEN THIS PLACE WAS CERTAINLY HELL.It was a recollection from long - long ago, agitated whispers of GODS HIGH IN THE SKY, of a dirty place far below, where cretins swarmed for holy knowledge.       It would be later the whole island would burn, he was not be privy to it, as he would by then been cast into his Beloved’s embrace, still a woeful child.  The island was brought to ruin by decree of GOLDEN RULE the same as the weapon that lined his jacket.        But this - this was a goddess in her own right - LOVE and PROTECTION and SURVIVAL her battle cry.

    “Oi, oi - are ye’ tryina make me lose my lunch, laughin’ that hard?           ‘Devil Child’? Her?       Aye, not a chance, Lad -- - if ye’ think that’s a devil, then ye’ haven’t ever seen what Hell’s really like.No one who has would go an’ mistake th’ thorns on a rose for a set ah’ fangs.                I can show ye’, yanno - what a real monster is like, if ye’ insist on going about spoutin’ shit like ye’ never seen a toilet in yer’ life.“

                                                                       ;;Take me then, it’s where I belong, the sea, sea,                                                                                                      by the wrathful God of the sea.| |

#bloominghands #Found the snail| |Answered #BLOODY MOON| |Maveric #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #CHAINED;;HOLD BACK RAGNAROK| |Maveric #[[ he thinks... she's baby ]]

[thesealovesme]

Hands like claws would fist in his lapels and close the distance between his face and her snarl. " 'Less you wanna join that sister of yours in whatever muddy stream her bones are rottin' in, I'd kindly suggest you /fuck off already./"

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:;

   Ah. Now she had teeth.                  Now she had a chance in hell.  Maybe it for the best, then, that his name had DIED ON HER LIPS the same day a light in the darkness had finally flickered free of a hopeless burden.           (She doesn’t want you.)                                   (She never needed you.)(You are WORTHLESS to h̘e͙̯̗̰̘̲ͅr͚̭͞.)               (How many times will you fail before you give it up.) (A GOD WITH NO SHRINE IS NOT EVEN A MEMORY.) (YOU ARE NOTHING.)Beside her grave was several more, buried deep, deep down, covered in GUILT, poisoned by the thick scent of alcohol that gave his heart no solace - and here, screaming chaos as a wounded beast, was her same face - marred, disfigured, pained, but hers.      They had dug her up and stitched havoc into her veins, and she continued.And here he was, who refused to end even if he could truly find no reason to exist.       (Even you, huh?)                                                                       (Fuck off already, eh?)    (I’msorryfatherI’msorrymyBelovedI’msorryDoffyI’msorryZoeyI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry                                I’m - - -)

He would survive, of course - if not for himself, but for the mistake of saving a rot-awful brat and exposing him to LOVE.            (He knew what it was, and he felt it, longed for it.                                    The fool thought he could LOVE others the same.)Bravado made null, cleaved in two by savagery he invoked upon himself, the ashen monstrosity released a single, ragged breath, having no more spirit to even show his teeth in the ghost of amusement.

              “Wonder how many more times I kin’ go about hearin’ that…         Before it starts soundin’ like the right course?                   Either or, those little fangs ah’ yours don’t go makin’ me mind ye’ at all.         I kin’ see her right now, without goin’ anywhere.                          Good ta’ see ya’ finally tell folks off for botherin’ ye’, though, Zoey.”

                                                                       ;;Take me then, it’s where I belong, the sea, sea,                                                                                                      by the wrathful God of the sea.| |

#acherys #Found the snail| |Answered #Zoey;;DEATH DOES NOT ABSOLVE THESE TIES| |Zoen #BLOODY MOON| |Maveric #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE THE SEA| |Maveric #[[ thanks (: I hate it ]]

[thesealovesme]

what (if any) kind of books does Mav like?

BITCH CAN’T READ.This behemoth is illiterate - as a child, he was actually quite the reader, but the complete cognitive reset of having to survive so vehemently in such a violent and unforgiving environment while also dissociating heavily from anything he might have known prior caused a few lapses in knowledge he may have had once before. He does, however, love others reading books aloud to him, and in the past  Zoen(  @acherys​ ) would attempt to teach him, only for him to simply enjoy the time spent being told stories.     Way later in life, now adays, Aya ( @bucketfullofocs​ ) tends to read to him, and considering she’s a librarian, that does allow him some preference. Maveric really likes romance stories, fantasy tales with happy endings, those that encompass love and contentment without loss.

#menagerie-rp #Found the snail| |Answered #BLOODY MOON| |Maveric #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #CHAINED;;HOLD BACK RAGNAROK| |Maveric #[[ he likes it... when things turn out well ]] #[[ he also has the emotional comprehension of a shoe lace ]] #[[ so relationships are neat! ]]

[thesealovesme]

*smacks maveric's arm REALLY hard*

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:;

A gentle bit of pressure to the bicep, and he tilted ever so slightly, indicating that someone of great potential had likely tried to budge him…. drained and wrenched nerves lacked the capacity to properly inform the ashen-maned monstrosity that he had been thwacked with all the passion of a cannonball, and as such, citrine pinpoints shifted, slowly, methodically, the aura of a beast awakened from their eternal slumber a miasma of agitation that wafted across the land.       Only to land on the one-eyed evergreen adonis that the Bloody Moon had been haunting for company more often than not, as of late.

              “Somethin’ bitin’ me, then?  Didya’ get it? I hate them damn flyin’ parasites,        Nasty bastards, thank ye’, Santou-boyo.”

Obviously, benevolence had to have been the reason for assault, considering the distinct lack of yelling.

                                                                ;;Take me then, it’s where I belong, the sea, sea,                                                                                                          by the wrathful God of the sea.|

#goldenscar #Found the snail| |Answered #BLOODY MOON| |Maveric #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #[[ he made HIMA DUMB NICKNAME ]] #[[ it's like... hitting your great dane with a slipper ]] #[[ he didn't feel it but maybe you're mad? ]]

[thesealovesme]

*   𝑩𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑳𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑺

please  repost ,  do  not  reblog !

GENERAL

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — strength (Naturally physically strong, all Zoan forms enhance this) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — offense (Can tank and also DPS) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — defense (Enhanced by Busoshoku) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆  — speed (Form dependent, Crescent is faster thane Wax, Wane is faster than both) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — durability (Naturally durable, enhanced by Busoshoku)

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — accuracy (NO USE AIMING IF YOU BREAK EVERYTHING) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆  — agility (Form dependent, Crescent is most limber, Wane is also) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — stamina ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — teamwork ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — stealth

SPECIFICS

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — close combat ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆   — bladed weapons ( swords, daggers ) (Unless claws count) ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — blunt weapons ( clubs, staffs, axes ) (like he can hit you with shit) ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — ranged weapons ( archery, guns ) (he’s good at throwing things) ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★  — superpowers / abilities ( magic ) (Busoshoku haki, and Dire Wolf Devil Fruit) ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆☆ ☆   — traps / setups ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆  — medic

LASTING INJURIES

  Nerve damage throughout most of his body from exposure to the toxic wildlife and ancient illnesses of a prehistoric island for nearly seven years - his pain receptors are nearly fried, making it a danger for him to suddenly black out from injuries that he did not realize were grievous. The damage makes him capable of basic heat, cold and pressure, but it is dulled quite a bit - his hair and erogenous zones have quite a bit more feeling. Pet him.

COMBAT SCARS

    HE’S COVERED IN EM. Most of his scars were gained from his time on the prehistoric island, but his signature lip scar want granted by the initial fall into the ocean from his vessel as a child, he hit a baby sea king, later revealed to be Yarou, and was knocked unconscious - it was the first injury he had ever suffered in his life. He also has plenty of scars from brawls and fights within the New World.

FIGHTING STYLE ( bold any that apply.  italicize any that sort of apply )

commander / duelist / honourable / dishonourable / would have others do their fighting / stealthy / long-ranged / mid-ranged / melee / technological / sorcery / superhuman abilities / has fought in a tourney / a lover of fighting / a hater of fighting / cowardly / reckless / strategic / uses underhanded tricks / renowned for their skill / trained / untrained / keeps skills a secret / won a battle / lost a battle / ruthless / merciful

tagged  by :   @necroarchy ty death dad tagging:   @anahori-simon @choudaigurrendan (anyone you want!) @maljefe @dckxn @bucketfullofocs ... I DON’T KNOW WHO ALL HAS DONE THIS FDOSGIJFD JUST STEAL IT

#BLOODY MOON| |Maveric #Where's that Snail| |MEMES #It all looks DIRE| |Abilities #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #[[ I GUESS?? dishonourable?? because he'll do ANYTHING to survive an encounter ]] #[[ but he's not underhanded at all he just gets more and more vicious ]] #[[ like a saiyan ]]

[thesealovesme]

When you left, they drained the aquarium. The fish died gasping, cursing your name. She heard them. She has not forgiven you.

                   [ reference to ( X ) ]

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:;

Dominion over life, a theatrical display to amuse heaven-sent creators reveling in the beauty of their artistic pieces; Locked within the deepest, darkest, most fetid recesses of wavering HUMANITY did the derelict whisper take hold of his sight and senses and THRUST recollection down his gullet like a smoking bullet.       (Glittering scales, a soft serenade, stifled by thick glass - it fascinated the ears and eyes of a young child, much to the chagrin of his e̷̢̛̕͞s̨̡̡͠ţ̷̡̕̕e̷̵̕͝͞ę̶̀̕͝md-f̵̢̕a͝͏͏t̴̀͜h̵̸͠e͜)HE WAS NOT HEAVEN-SENT - SHE WAS.  Her love was absolute, all encompassing, she could protect ANYTHING, destroy IT ALL, she could LOVE ANYONE, and SCORN THEM JUST THE SAME.Death by his hands was not an enigma, (for they are below you, regardless, eh?) but by the air that he currently wretched on, the transience of guilt by which he had no REAL part of.     (WHERE DID THE DEVIL INSIDE YOU COME FROM?)A long swig of sake, and the agony by which the phantasm of broken life slowly subsided as his psyche ferried far-reaching memories back into the depths.

             “Ain’t forgiven for a lot, these days.Better off back t’her, than that noose ah’ fire, s’how they usually go, after all.          I didn’t have the keys, so could YA’ FUCK RIGHT OFF?!”

INHUMAN IS AS (GODS)INHUMAN (DO)ES, a scathing bellow, metallic will coating flesh and fabric, and the adjoining wall was made forfeit, crumbling in an explosion of force that sent nearby patrons into a squalor.       There was no one there, none that he could devour to silence, and as the clamor dissipated into a distant drawl in his perceptions, the ashen beast took note of the ground below.

                                                     “… M’sorry.”

 (That’s why you are not a god, because those who would have faith in you,                               you cannot protect.)

                                                                    ;;Take me then, it’s where I belong, the sea, sea,                                                                                                          by the wrathful God of the sea.|

#Faces;;Names| |Who knows #CHAINED;;HOLD BACK RAGNAROK| |Maveric #BLOODY MOON| |Maveric #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #[[ MY INBOX IS COMPLETELY CURSED RIGHT NOW ]] #[[ AND NOT IN THE FUN WAY ]] #[[ LIKE HAHA AN OLD GOD POSSESSED IT SORT OF WAY FDSJGDJKS ]] #[[ anyway Mav had a fun time even before being dumped on an island full of dinosaurs and giant wolves ]]

[thesealovesme]

FULL NAME : Maveric Unelanvhi(Rarely told to anyone) NICKNAME : Bloody Moon, Mav, Mavvy, Wolf Bastard, Sea Hobo.

» bold: applicable » italics: somewhat or conditionally applicable » strikethrough: …but he goes to great lengths to hide it

╳   FLAWS.

moody | short-tempered | emotionally unstable | whiny | controlling | conceited | possessive | paranoid | liar | impatient | cowardly | bitter | selfish | power-hungry | greedy | lazy | judgmental | forgetful | impulsive | spiteful | stubborn | sadistic | petty | unlucky | absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | childish | callous | clingy | delusional | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cynical | cruel | depressed | egotistical | envious | insecure | insensitive | lustful | delinquent | guilt complex | reclusive | reckless | nervous | oversensitive

♔   STRENGTHS.

honest | trustworthy | thoughtful | caring | brave | patient | selfless | ambitious | tolerant | lucky | intelligent | confident | focused | humble | generous | merciful | observant | wise | clever | charming | cheerful | optimistic | decisive | adaptive | calm | protective | proud | diligent | considerate | compassionate | good sportsmanship | friendly | empathetic | passionate | reliable | resourceful | sensible | sincere | witty | funny

🖌 SKILLS & HOBBIES.

art | acting | astronomy | animals | archery | sports | beach combing | belly dancing | bird watching | blacksmithing | boating | calligraphy | camping(??) | candle making | casino gambling | ceramics | racing | chess | music | cooking | crochet | weaving | exercise | swordplay | sparring in general | fishing | gardening | ghost hunting | ice skating | magic | engineering | building | inventing | leather-working | martial arts | meditation | origami | parkour | people watching | swimming | puppetry | pyrotechnics | quilting | reading(back when he could) | collecting | shopping | socializing | storytelling | writing | traveling | exotic dancing | singing

tagged by: @necroarchy thanks angel now tagging: everyone who sees this just STEAL IT I’M LATE

#BLOODY MOON| |Maveric #CHAINED;;HOLD BACK RAGNAROK| |Maveric #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #Where's that Snail| |MEMES #[[ a fucking basket case right here ]] #[[ abusive is kind of up to debate but he's not exactly the best boyfriend/sibling/son/person SO ]]

[thesealovesme]

[Aya~] The little mermaid is on the beach when she sees him, approaches him as if he was an old friend. "The, um, the other day, you asked me to help you find a, um, a book for an offering. I, um, if you don't mind me, um, asking - what, um, what kind of offering?" Honest curiosity, wanting to understand him better. "If, um, if I know more about, um, who it's for - maybe, um, maybe I can help better."

| |The sea I so loved, she rejects me, she rejects me!:;

A sobering caress of salted tide, pushing and pulling in gentle rhythm against the soles of rather expensive looking soles - even the smallest touch, and his will to stay conscious waned, such was the sheer level of vehemence that his beloved carried for his cursed form.  She’d rather drag him to her darkest reaches than abide his life in betrayal, and it was all he could do to insist on his survival to show her his that his love was endless. He sat, a ridiculous bulk propped up by palms digging into wet sand behind him, a languid gaze noting the horizon with distant disdain - until the scent of ink, and an endearing, stammering tone knocked him from his stupor.    The inquiry hosted no malice, merely intrigue, and she truly didn’t seem the type to ask a question just to turn the answer back on someone, and so, with a tilt of the head, he gestured towards a barrel half-buried beside him.It was filled with quite the variety - a half eaten fruit, a bottle of sake, random trinkets, an entire crab… small tokens from the island.

                “Ye’ ever heard of an Offering ta’ the Sea God?Just take a few things, here an’ there, put em’ in, and send them out to sea,       if ye’ find one, the possibility be there ta’ take what’s in it, but only if ye’ put your own back in, and cast it back ta’ her, else she’ll get mad.“

Arsenic gold shifted back towards the lazy sea before them, a distance to rumbling baritone sudden and prominent.

“Aye, lass, way back when, she saved me, an’ I’m just tryin’ te’ show her how much I love her, but ye’ see, m’cursed, so she hates me how I am, was my fault, I ate the damn thing.         Was thinkin’ maybe a book’d be somethin’ new I haven’t sent her,                                    she’s a petty thing, wrathful as anything - but I owe her that love.      Nothin’ too much ta’ worry yourself over, Little Fish.”

                                                                    ;;Take me then, it’s where I belong, the sea, sea,                                                                                                          by the wrathful God of the sea.|

#bucketfullofocs #Found the snail| |Answered #A CHILD LOST IN TIME| |Maveric #BLOODY MOON| |Maveric #[[ WHAT BOOK WOULD THE OCEAN READ ]]