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ahatintimepieces · 3 years

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It Comes Down in Buckets

Before Luka and Hattie ended up in Subcon, they faced many challenges on the road as they adjusted to Luka’s curse. This is a lil gift for Mak, @doodledrawsthings, and their “””Coffeeshop au””” where Luka pushes himself a bit too hard while trying to make the day special for Hattie. Please enjoy!

Word Count: 7,678

The rolling waves tumbled against the velvet sand and the morning sunlight skipped across the foaming crests, painting them gold. Hattie’s grip tightened around the old bucket she had found as she inhaled the salty, fishy air. Standing at the patches of grass that separated the edge of the forest from the beach, she gazed out at the shore. Her sketchbook waited in her backpack, begging her to pull it out and to memorialize the look of the sea and snapshot the ebb and flow of surging waves, but she had work to do.

She had to find the prettiest seashells before anyone else so she could sell them for some extra cash. Every little bit helped.

Weaving down to the beach, the warming sand caught between her toes and kicked up with each flop and flip of her flipflops. She swung the dented bucket with rust stains as she hurried to the lapping tide. She stepped into the water and immediately squealed before jumping back from the cold. The foam receded, as if teasing her, and an impish grin spread across her features.

As the water crawled back up the shore, Hattie fixed her old baseball cap and then leapt into the ankle-deep wave. Her initial screech dissolved into laughter. Splashing around, her flipflops tossed clouds of murky dust up and the sloshing, icy water splattered against her leg. She placed her hands on her hips and struck a pose as she gazed out at the sliver of light where the sky paralleled the ocean. With the cascading crackles of the snapping sea rumbling around her, it was hard not to let her mind wander into daydreams.

She could picture it perfectly. A calm day at the beach. No time limits for her dad, no worrying about money, and he could finally rest. He could finally be happy again. And she could play in the surf and chase crabs, pretend to be a pirate finding buried treasure, or draw and paint next to her dad as he napped. She could picture it so perfectly.

But she glanced down at the bucket as it bumped against her hip. Its creaking handle brought her back to reality.

Hattie let out a huff before shuffling out of the grasp of the waves, where it would be easier to spot shells. But before she did, a playful crest rolled back to reveal the tip of a fancy looking shell. Gasping, Hattie knelt and carefully tugged the shell free and revealed what she always thought of as a mini conch, though her dad would probably tell her that it was whelk of some kind since it had a rounder top and thinner end.

After checking the inside cavity for any snail or sea critter by poking a cautious finger around to confirm it was empty, she held the whelk to her ear.

She grinned when she heard the ocean. But she was also standing in it so the shell could still potentially be a dud. Nevertheless, she placed it into the bucket, and it slid around as she went searching for more.

As Hattie combed the beach, a couple people showed up to lounge on the sand or wade in the surf. It didn’t get crowded, since it was a workday, but when she wandered towards the opposite side of the long beach, where the sand was cut off by rounded boulders that jutted out into the sea, she ran into a tourist screaming at a seagull.

“What’s wrong?” Hattie called as she hoisted her bucket overflowing with shells to the side to make it easier to sprint forward.

“That darn seagull took my stuff!” The tourist gestured angrily towards a seagull perched on one of the rocks surrounded by water. It bobbed its head around as it stood proudly over a grey camera. Sunlight glinted against the lens.

“I’ll get it,” Hattie offered without hesitation. She placed the bucket down and scrambled up the boulders.

“Wait, kid, you don’t have to!” He waved his hands across his chest, trying to get her to stop, but it was too late. She didn’t listen as she assessed the slippery boulders and slowly navigated her way across.

She came to the edge of the final boulder and eyed the gap between it and the one in the waves. The seagull cocked its head towards her and let out a squawk. Pausing, Hattie glanced around, trying to figure out how to distract the seagull.

Before she could, the seagull snapped its beak towards something behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to find the tourist was waving a sandwich around. The seagull swooped over her, and she belatedly ducked as it soared over to the tourist. He yelped and turned on his heels before sprinting from the squawking bird.

Hattie tugged her cap down in determination before turning back towards the rock. She took a cautious step back before lunging from the boulder and vaulting onto the next. Grunting after she smacked against the rock, she scrambled up and grabbed the camera. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and nestled the camera between her sketchbook and Professor Popcorn. For good measure, she tucked her dad’s hoodie around it to keep it extra safe.

Once her backpack was zipped, she looped her arms through the straps and got ready to jump back.

The tourist had returned to his spot, hunched over and panting with his cap askew and white and grey feathers stuck to his vibrant orange shirt. She inhaled a steadying breath and leapt back towards shore.

She misjudged the distance.

Nearly sliding over the side of the rock, she scraped her knee against stone as she clambered and clawed. Panic squeezed her chest until she could finally find her grip.

“Careful, now!” the tourist called as she hoisted herself up with her heart pounding. She glanced towards the worried man and gave him a thumbs up before crawling forward.

Her stinging knee threatened to buckle when she first stood, but she gritted her teeth and pushed onward. She navigated back to the beach and dropped down onto the sand.

“Geez, kid, that was dangerous!” the tourist sighed as Hattie pulled out his camera.

“But I got it!” She beamed, holding it out proudly. Her smile faltered when she noticed the identical camera that hung around his neck. His chin tilted down as he followed her gaze.

“I was trying to tell you, I have a spare,” he said apologetically. “But, hey! Since you got it, why don’t you keep it? It’s great for preserving memories!”

Hattie pulled the camera back, appraising the contraption.

Preserving memories? No matter how much she sketched all the places she and her father had been, it might be nice to be able to just take a picture to quickly capture everything. She could take a picture of the sea, in fact. But she stared into the curved lens with growing dismay.

Flashes of headlights and blinding snaps. Posters with blurry images of her shadowy dad offering money for anyone who could capture the pictured creature, dead or alive. And, even when he shapeshifted, he was still so jumpy around cameras.

Maybe she could sell it at a pawn shop for a little extra cash? In the meantime, it might not hurt to keep it on hand…

“Oh, hold on,” the tourist exclaimed, startling her out of her thoughts. She tucked the camera back into her backpack and blinked up at him with wide blue eyes. “You got quite the scrape there, let me help.” He motioned her over to his set up on the beach, complete with a towel and umbrella.

After the tourist helped her clean up and shared back-up sandwiches he had prepared, she let him choose one of the shells to take as thanks and set off to sell the rest.

She set up a little area at the top of the beach, halfway between the rest of the city and the parking lot for beach goers. After doodling a cute sign declaring her wares were ready, she caught the eyes of passersby and wove imaginative tales about the shells for anyone who came near. Since this wasn’t the first time that she had sold items that she salvaged while her dad worked, she had developed a good enough sense to get a read on personalities and how to appeal to them. Parents with children were easily swayed by silly stories about the shells. She even managed to convince a businessman walking by to purchase one since her wares were far cheaper than the nearby souvenir shops that sold the same shells. And, after all, hers were higher quality and, really, didn’t he want to support an aspiring entrepreneur? (It probably helped her chances that she practiced that word a few times prior to make sure she was pronouncing it right).

She bolted when she spotted some cops patrolling the area, though.

By the end of the day, she successfully sold more than half of her shells. She tucked the coins and cash safely into an inside pocket in her backpack, where her secret stash would help her buy food for whenever her dad inevitably got stuck in noddle form and couldn’t work. She had tried giving her earnings to him directly before, but he had only gotten upset, insisting she didn’t need to worry about money and it was his job to take care of her, not the other way around. But they both knew that he often pushed himself past his limits, and he couldn’t do everything himself.

She was just beginning to collect firewood close to their camp when footsteps tracked through the grass. Hattie froze, turning towards the sound and holding her breath. Golden light flickered between the trees and an approaching shadow broke into the small clearing.

“Hey, kiddo!” Her dad, still in his human form, which surprised her, jumped forward with a wide grin and his hands behind his back. Wrinkles lined the corners of his eyes, but he was alert with enthusiasm as he straightened. A plastic bag crinkled noisily as it swayed behind him. “Guess what I got for our most important celebration tonight?”

“Celebration?” Hattie tilted her head, though his energy was infectious, and she cracked a smile.

“Don’t tell me you forgot what day it is,” he teased, bringing his hand forward and adjusting the delivery cap he wore for his morning job of delivering papers.

“Payday?” she guessed, crossing over to their firepit and dropping the dry twigs and branches she found.

“N-no, kiddo,” he faltered, quirking a brow as he revealed a plastic bag with local dollar store logo. “It’s your birthday!”

“Oh.” She blinked up at him.

“Did you really forget?” His features fell and the worn creases on his face highlighted the underlining fatigue. “We talked about it, right? When we were-when we were moving.”

“Y-yeah,” Hattie said. She did sort of remember now that he mentioned it, but she hadn’t thought too much about it since they had other things to worry about. “I just forgot what day of the week it is.”

He didn’t seem to believe her but he accepted the excuse.

“Well, I got hot dogs and marshmallows,” he added quickly, pulling out a bag of large marshmallows for emphasis. If he sensed how she tensed, he ignored it and gestured towards the direction of the beach. “I thought we could start a fire at one of the communal firepits and have a cookout!”

“What about our camp?” Hattie gestured to the little circle of rocks they had set up a few days ago when they first decided to settle in this city.

“It’ll still be here,” he promised. After tucking the marshmallows back into the bag, he walked over to her pile of wood and searched for the longest and cleanest sticks.

“But the beach is out in the open,” she pressed, nervously fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Don’t you need to change back?”

“Of course not!” he insisted with a little more force than he probably intended. In a lighter tone, he waved his hand dismissively with a smile plastered across his face. “I can hold it together long enough for your birthday. Come on! Let’s have fun!”

He placed a few sticks he deemed worthy for hot dog and marshmallow roasting into the plastic bag and then motioned for her to follow.

“But—” she hesitated.

“You know, I used to do this when I was a kid,” he jumped enthusiastically into the memory, not giving her a chance to argue. She frowned but grabbed her backpack and the bucket that still had the leftover seashells.

Hey, if they were going to be on the beach, she might as well keep an eye out for more.

“Any time we went camping, we would grab a bunch of hot dogs and marshmallows. Of course,” he added a bit quietly as they walked through the woods, “usually we had buns and graham crackers and chocolate. But I did snag some ketchup packets from the restaurant!” He beamed proudly.

Hattie forced a smile, though guilt gnawed at the reminder that he had worked two jobs that day, trying to get enough money together so that they could find a motel to stay at sooner than later. She considered giving him the money she had saved, but she didn’t want to cause him more grief especially since she could tell he was masking his exhaustion. Maybe she could hide the money where he would find it with his things? She could pass it off as him misplacing the bills!

Though, both of them had become increasingly vigilant when dealing with money in the past couple years. He would have noticed if that much went missing in the first place.

“Here we are,” he gestured to the firepit closest to the forest the second they walked onto the sand. “Sit tight while I get the fire going.” There was wrapped firewood next to the pit, all ready for them and their cookout. His water bottle was also leaning against one of the logs, indicating that he had stopped by before running to get her. While he finished setting up, Hattie gazed out at the sea.

The water mirrored the stretch of twilight. Orange-pink rays of dwindling sunlight lingered on the horizon and the occasional star twinkled in the darkening sky. Crackles and pops that came from the growing fire behind her mingled with the surging waves before her. And when her dad joined her side and held out his hand, she smiled as she took it, keeping her gaze locked on the horizon.

“It’s like that one picture in the book at the library in the last town,” she whispered, craning her neck back to meet his warm golden gaze. “The one with the watercolor illustrations!”

“It is!” he agreed, giving her hand a tight squeeze.

“I want to paint something like this one day,” she admitted, turning back to the sea.

“I bet you can, and sooner than you think.” His smile permeated his voice. He gently tugged her hand and nodded towards the firepit. Despite the lines under his eyes, he did seem happy, and that was good enough for Hattie.

“Okay!” She joined him on a log, and eagerly waited for him to pass her a stick he doused with water to keep it from burning.

Her dad filled her in on his day as they roasted the hot dogs. He got her laughing with a few jokes his coworkers shared, and she nodded knowingly when he told her about some of the customers he had worked with. When he asked about her day as he broke open the bag of marshmallows, she explained that she was looking for seashells and presented the bucket with her findings.

“Quick, if you have twenty seashells and I take five, how many do you have left?” he quizzed.

“F-fifteen!” Hattie blinked, hesitating only a moment as she registered the question.

“Good girl,” he praised, passing over a marshmallow.

“If you bought one bag of marshmallows for tonight, how many marshmallows will you have tomorrow morning?” She blinked up at him, trying and failing to conceal her growing smirk.

“Hmm.” He speared his own marshmallow as he gave her a wry grin. “That’s a tough one, why don’t you give me a hint?”

“Zero!” She pulled her burning marshmallow out of the fire and quickly blew on it.

The flames dissipated into a plume of smoke, leaving a burnt crust behind on the marshmallow. Without waiting, she popped it into her mouth and the gooey burst of molten sugar melted on her tongue.

“Becath I’ll eat ‘em all!” she declared through her sticky mouthful.

“Just don’t choke!” He chuckled before putting his arm around her and giving her a side squeeze. She immediately snuggled into his side, comforted by his warmth.

As they worked through the marshmallows and the night cloaked the beach, Hattie pulled out the hoodie and tugged it over herself. The hoodie was far too big since it was her dad’s but despite the floppy sleeves and how it was more like a dress on her, it was cozy and kept the night chill away. She became even cozier when her dad plucked her up and enveloped her in a hug.

“Happy birthday, princess,” he whispered as he nuzzled his cheek against hers.

“Hap—erm,” her cheeks flushed since she had almost wished him a happy birthday back. “Thank you.”

He chuckled and gave her a tight squeeze.

“Okay, I have one more surprise,” he said, arching back and stretching his arm maybe a bit farther than a human arm should, and rummaged around the plastic bag.

She leaned over, trying to peek and his other hand moved over her eyes.

“Don’t look!” He shifted around a bit before Hattie felt something lower into her lap. “Alright, now you can.” He pulled his hand away and she immediately glanced down.

Watercolors. A plastic palette of watercolors rested in her lap with a tiny brush snuggly tucked into a divot on the side. A single golden ribbon was taped on for the birthday wrapping. Her chest tightened as she imagined all the things she could paint, all the things she wanted to bring to life with water-soaked pigments.

But how much did he spend on her?

“Well?” he prompted with an edge of nervousness. “Is it okay?”

“I love it.” In one swift movement, she hugged the palette before swiveling around and burying her face into his chest. A lump threatened to lodge in her throat, but she swallowed it as she hugged her dad.

“Oh, Hattie.” He leaned over her and held her tightly. “I’m glad. I know it’s not much.”

“It’s perfect,” she promised, grasping his shirt.

He did so much for her, sacrificed so much just to take care of her, and now this? She wished she could do more to help.

After a few moments of lingering in his embrace, she pulled back while rubbing at her eyes.

“Everything oh-ahem.” Her dad suddenly pulled his hand away from his task of brushing her hair back. She wrinkled her nose as she blinked up at him.

He held his hand behind his back and his nervous, forced smile revealed his growing fangs.

“Dad,” she shuffled out of his lap, “you need to change back.”

She glanced around the beach quickly, relieved that there was no one nearby to see him.

“No!” He winced when an edge of a reverb tainted his voice. He cleared his throat and waved his other hand dismissively. It had completely turned ebony-violet. “I’m fine! I can hold it for a little long—” he stalled as he glimpsed his other hand and snapped it behind his back too, “—longer.”

Hattie frowned with her brows drooping. His irises radiated golden light as his pupils faded.

“Please. I know I can—” he faltered, pulling his hands back and holding them out before himself. His fingers trembled as they dripped, trying to reconnect. He bit his lip and grimaced when his lengthening fangs jabbed him. The familiar, purple-singed shadows spread from the expanding tips of his chestnut hair.

“It’s okay,” she insisted, turning around and rolling up the sleeves of the hoodie to start cleaning up so that they could head back to camp. She knew he was probably more exhausted than he let on.

“But it’s your birthday,” he whispered in such a broken voice that she felt a world of guilt press against her shoulders.

“And I can still spend it with you as a noodle!” She kept her tone light, giving him a smile strained from her concern.

The gold had encased his eyes and his teeth became backlit by a surging light in his throat. He considered her with tight dismay before scowling.

“No!” He pushed to his feet. “No, I can do this!”

“But, Dad,” Hattie called anxiously, unable to do anything but watch as he paced by the bonfire.

He held his hands out in front of himself, clenching them as he stared daggers into his purple palms. During his pacing, his legs began to quiver, and he paused, hunching as his hair began to drip. His fingers merged into mittens, taking on a gloopy appearance and Hattie thought that that was it, that he would just start getting bigger. She opened her mouth to try and get him to focus on saving his clothes, but the words died in her throat.

“Stop changing,” he wheezed in a wavering voice. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as he strained to keep a human shape. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, snuffing out his golden light. The flickering fire cast twisting shadows against his trembling form. His arms lost all pretense of having bones and flopped down like limp noodles. His legs buckled and he thrust out his hand to catch himself.

“Something’s wrong!” Hattie hurried to his side, reaching out as his mitten hand clenching the sand lost its shape entirely and expanded into a puddle.

“N-no,” his reverberating voice gurgled behind globs of dripping purple that stretched across his mouth when he parted his lips. “I can do this!” But just as he said that, he grunted and lurched forward. Viscous liquid oozed from his shoes as his legs melted.

But they didn’t form a tail.

They just pooled out uselessly behind him.

“Dad!” Hattie placed a hand on his arm, but it collapsed under her touch. He let out a strangled cry as his whole arm gave away and he slammed against the beach.

He continued to melt despite his groaning and straining. The trembling shadows spilled from his clothes and into the sand. Panic seized Hattie’s chest as she feared she was going to lose him to the beach. Glancing around frantically, her gaze fell onto the bucket, and she lunged for it.

“Hold on!” Hattie called as she dumped the shells out and slid over to her father, who had gone eerily silent as the pooling liquid oozed and spread.

She dropped the bucket into the sand and quickly tried to shove waves of the viscous liquid inside, catching particles of sand with it. Once half of him filled the rusted bucket and kept spilling out, she righted it before scooping up purple globs. She tossed handful after handful of the soupy remains of her father into the bucket. The trembling sludge sputtered and splashed. Tears stung the corners of her eyes when she saw some liquid darkening and fading into intangible shadows that disappeared into the sand, gone for good.

“Stay with me,” she whispered in a cracking voice as she scooped up every last bit that she could.

After wringing purple from his shirt, pants, and the edges of her sleeves which had tumbled into the puddle a few times, Hattie searched for any of her father’s features in the goop squelching against the edges of the bucket.

“Dad?” She lightly prodded the thick surface of the liquid and it shivered. A muffled groan bubbled up, though no golden light from his eyes or mouth followed. Hattie sighed, sitting back in the sand as she convinced herself that the fact that he had groaned meant he was still there. But now just as soup. In a bucket.

They’ve been through worse, right? This, too, should pass?

“Okay, you just sleep while I clean up,” she muttered as she pushed to her feet.

She collected their things and put out the fire, all the while glancing at the bucket as the goop settled. Once she had the plastic bag slung over her shoulder and her birthday gift tucked into her backpack, she slowly picked up the bucket.

“Oof,” she huffed as she heaved the bucket up, wincing when droplets splashed over the side. “Why is magic goop so heavy? That’s stupid,” she grumbled as she slowly made her way across the dark beach and back to their camping area. As she paused multiple times to give her arms a break and catch her breath, she swallowed the rising lump in her throat and pushed onward.

Luka groaned and on top of the usual reverb that came with his noodle body it sounded oddly like the gurgle of a garbage disposal choking on water. He blinked tired eyes and the golden glow rebounded against the daffodil-yellow inside of Hattie’s baseball cap.

Oh. Had he shrunk down and dozed while Hattie was shopping? That didn’t seem right. Actually, what had he been doing before this?

A surge of panic bubbled up as he recalled trying to hold onto his humanity at the beach. He remembered the tighter he held the form, the more it slipped through his clenched fingers. He heard a slosh of thick liquid when he tried to lift his hand.

He couldn’t lift his hand.

He couldn’t even turn his head! His eyes darted around frantically, catching the rim of some sort of curving, metal wall in the corners of his vision but he could only really look straight up at Hattie’s cap.

“K-ki—” he sputtered as some sort of gunk trickled into his mouth. Expelling wet coughs only caused more of the viscous goop to slip in. His anxious attempts to move coupled with his hyperventilating only increased the panicked sloshing that sounded like puddles disrupted by pricks of rain.

“Dad?” Hattie’s sleepy voice responded.

“H-help I’m—” he gagged on a particularly large glob.

“Hold on!”

He tried to spit out the gunk and a heavy droplet plunked against him. He shivered from the sensation but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what was going on. Relief swelled when the cap was removed and Hattie looked down at him, with sunlight filtering through the trees. Squinting at the sudden light, he tried to squirm around.

While not happy, she at least looked safe and sound. She wore his delivery cap, and he could see the dangling strings of his hoodie. If the sunlight was any indication, he must have slept through the night. He grimaced, hoping she hadn’t been too uncomfortable or cold without his coil to protect her from the elements.

“What’s going on?” he forced out, feeling like he was talking through a wad of bubblegum.

Hattie sat back, making it harder for him to see her at his angle. He twisted to try to get closer.

“You’re in a bucket,” she answered tiredly. When she glanced up and realized she was wearing his delivery cap, she jolted and swiftly took it off.

“A bucket?” he echoed in distress. His eyes shifted around as he glimpsed the walls and the occasional splash of purple-black goop if he moved too quickly. He blinked.

“Oh my god, I melted.”

“Yeah,” Hattie sighed as she rubbed her eyes with the baggy, purple sleeve. “Are you okay?”

“Um.”

No.

“I’ve been better.” He winced, realizing all the gunk that was getting caught in his mouth was himself. Fantastic.

“Do you need anything?” she prompted with hesitation as she glanced around. “Like water or something?”

“I need to get out of this bucket!” He pushed his eye against the rim, and he felt himself ripple. “Here, dump me out! I can try to—” he coughed, “—pull myself back together.”

“I lost so much of you on the beach though,” Hattie objected. “And y-you just disappeared, like the goopy stuff turned all shadowy.”

He caught the crack in her voice, and frowned, both from hearing how part of him just up and evaporated—okay, a lot of him if what was left of his monstrous noodle form could fit inside a tiny bucket—and from how much he had frightened her.

“I can’t stay like this, though,” he argued. “I have work! And you can’t stay in the woods on your own!” He shifted around, trying to figure out how to stretch his neck or anything but his neck and everything was gone! First, he lost his body and now he lost his monster body? This wasn’t fair! He couldn’t live like this!

In his frustration, he tried to will himself to have arms or hands or even his tail would work. The goop bubbled and frothed, and he grunted from the strain, but he could do it! He could pull himself together!

“Stop!” Hattie commanded. He yelped as he felt small hands jut into the goop and scoop up his features.

He felt himself spread out and winced as strands dripped back down into the bucket with heavy plops. It was like the world and his body were spinning around him, disconnected and far from his grasp as his head remained stagnant but stuck. After blinking and spotting Hattie’s thumb acting as a barrier as trickles of him slipped through the cracks of her fingers, he grounded himself in her frustrated blue gaze.

“If you keep hurting yourself, you’ll just make it worse!” Her nose scrunched up into a hard scowl, but he heard the lump in her throat underneath her irate bite. “Just stop!”

“Sorry,” he gurgled quietly. Her brows furrowed even more, and he added as gently as he could, “I’ll rest, kiddo. I’ll take it easy.”

“Promise?” She stared him down.

“Promise,” he breathed out, slumping.

She lowered him back into the bucket and a soft bloop sound was followed by flickers of drops as she pulled her hands out. He hummed to relieve some distress as he tried to force himself to relax.

“Maybe you just need sleep,” Hattie offered. She grumbled a bit, but he could tell she was trying to soften her tone.

“That’s usually all it is,” he agreed.

He did feel a similar exhaustion to all the times he pushed his time limit and got stuck in noodle form. Only this was much worse. Even when he was a human, he wasn’t sure he could ever remember a time he was so tired that he couldn’t move his muscles.

Leaning his eyes against the rim of the bucket for some semblance of security, he desperately hoped he wouldn’t be stuck like this. But even if he did eventually turn back to monster-normal, he had a sneaking suspicion he really screwed over his already sparse shapeshifting time.

“Do you want me to put the hat back over?” Hattie lifted her cap into his view. “To help you sleep?”

“No,” he said a little quickly. She lowered the hat and he added, sheepishly, “I know I can’t see much from here, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Okay. Go to sleep. Let me know if you need anything.” She scooted over to their campfire, and he heard the click of the lighter.

He sighed but tried to let the distant crackle of flame and the low tap of Hattie sketching on paper lull him into a semi-relaxed state. His eyes closed into tiny slits and as he dozed, a gentle and continuous rumble bubbled up from within.

“Dad?” Hattie whispered after a stretch of time, scooting back into view and looking down with her hair slipping from behind her ear.

“Hmm?” His eyes cracked open, slowly registering the rumbling sound. In his peripheral vision, the surface of the ebony-violet goop rippled steadily.

Hattie cracked a grin.

“You’re purring!” she said in slight disbelief before exploding into giggles.

“I’m—?” he began before he recognized the familiar and involuntary purr. A dusting of faint gold emanated from beneath the surface of the goop as he blushed.

“The whole bucket is shaking!” Hattie covered her mouth as her laugh trickled out in mirthful chimes.

Despite himself, Luka smiled, glad to hear her laugh.

“I guess it looks pretty silly,” he admitted, imagining the bucket wiggling around. Though now that he was becoming more alert, the rumbling slowed to a stop. In their absence, he realized how comforting the vibrations had been.

Hmm. Maybe the purring was a way to pull himself back together? It wasn’t something he could force or speed up, though. Typical.

“Do you want any food?” Hattie perked after she calmed down from laughing. “I was roasting some hot dogs.”

“I’ll try a bite,” his eyes and mouth shifted up and down in an affirmative nod that sent tiny waves splashing against the side of the bucket.

He couldn’t really tell if he was hungry, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to eat but he would do anything that would help him replenish some energy.

When Hattie returned with a torn piece of a hot dog, Luka opened his mouth and let out a gurgling, “ah.”

With a giggle, she gently lowered the hot dog as close as she could before dropping it. He felt the hot dog plop down and coughed. Hattie winced in apology as he closed his mouth and pensively chewed.

“I’m fine,” he said after a thick swallow. He couldn’t feel the lump of the hot dog anymore but in the past few years of dealing with his magic, goopy body, he learned to not ask questions he couldn’t answer and near the top of that list was wondering what the heck replaced his melted digestive track.

Hattie fed him a few more pieces and he swallowed the dismay of not being able to feed himself. Even though he had grown accustomed to relying on Hattie for help when his chameleon paws couldn’t work with delicate silverware, the familiar sorrow from the early days returned now that he didn’t even have hands.

After what he was certain was a late lunch, he napped on and off as Hattie remained nearby. When he would check in with her, she would present her latest sketches proudly, and even had one completed work in watercolor. It was a scene of the ocean, and while her sketchbook paper wasn’t meant to hold so much moisture, causing it to crinkle and warp when it dried, she excitedly explained that she was going to do other paintings exactly like it, but all showcasing the ocean at different times of the day. He told her that he was eager to see them, overjoyed that she was having fun with her gift like he had hoped she would.

If only he had been able to save up enough for a motel in time for her birthday, or at the very least, if only he hadn’t melted on her. But that was really his fault for pushing himself so hard.

He had just so badly wanted to make it special. She hadn’t even remembered her own birthday! What else was he supposed to do? Let himself turn into a monster? She deserved to have her actual dad on her birthday.

“Hey, Dad?” Her voice drew him out of his sinking despair.

“What’s up, kiddo?” he shifted his eyes in the bucket, trying to find a position that best allowed him to see her.

“What should I tell your boss?” She held out his phone, which was lit up with messages with letters in all caps.

Luka groaned.

“Can you read the messages for me?” He mentally prepared for the nerve-wracking ordeal of trying to explain himself without admitting to his boss that the reason he couldn’t make it to work was because he turned into a bucket of silly putty.

With Luka directing her, Hattie responded to the understandably angry but maybe harsher than necessary texts from his boss at the restaurant. Once that was done, he let out a heavy sigh, accidentally blowing a bubble in the goop, which shortly popped and splattered. He flinched when a drop landed in his eye.

“Do I have anything from the newspaper office?” Luka asked, dreading the thought of not only the manager getting upset when he found out no one had delivered newspapers in the morning, but of all the people who would no doubt call to complain about empty doorsteps.

“No,” Hattie replied slowly.

“Really?” Luka wasn’t sure if he should count that as good or bad. Either way, he was probably out of a job. “I’ll need to start looking for something else.”

“Why?” Hattie scooted closer, hugging her knees to her chest as she looked down at him.

“They’ve probably already decided to fire me,” he lamented with his mouth sinking and gurgling in the gunk.

“Nah.” She glanced away, tapping around on his phone.

He blinked up at her.

“Nah?” he repeated. When Hattie kept her gaze down and her lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowed. “Hattie? What did you do?”

“I maybe did your deliveries for you?” she offered guiltily.

He stared at her.

“You what?” he sputtered, causing his sludge to ripple as panic seized him. “By yourself? Hattie! You just turned eight! My route is a couple miles long, and you would have had to bike before dawn! There are child labor laws! What do you mean you did my deliveries?”

“I had help!” Hattie hurried to explain. “I ran into a nice tourist I met yesterday, and he gave me a map and delivered half of the newspapers for me.”

“You worked with a stranger?” Luka demanded, shifting around in the bucket. “Harriet Princeton, you are not supposed to talk to strangers!”

“So, I’m only supposed to talk to you?” She threw her hands up in the air.

“No! I mean—that’s not the point!” he faltered, sloshing around as the bite in her words stung. Bits of goop splattered over the rim and Hattie jolted.

“Stop freaking out!” She helplessly tried to grasp at the stray droplets. “I can’t lose you again!”

He paused, tensing. Well, tensing as much as he could as a viscous liquid.

“Wh-what do you mean lose me again?” he pressed tightly.

“I thought you were gone when you melted,” she said with a cracking voice. She hugged her legs and rest her chin on her knees. “I thought I didn’t get all of you in time and you were gone, and I just wanted to help because you’re so tired all time but—” she trailed off in a squeak as tears filled her eyes.

“Hattie—” he shifted towards her, but the goop sputtered as he instinctively tried to reach out to his daughter. Liquid stung his eyes and he blinked rapidly. “Hattie, look at me please.”

She turned and revealed tears streaming down her cheeks.

Gold blurred his vision, but he pressed on.

“I’m sorry,” he began in a congested voice, thick with gunk and reverb. “I know you were just trying to help, and I appreciate it! But I don’t want you worrying about my jobs or money. You shouldn’t have to.”

His voice cracked and all too late, he realized that the reason he sounded so congested was partly because of the golden tears filling the bucket. They glittered in the goop, separated like oil drops in water. His breath hitched and the goop swelled.

“But I can—” he tried to continue as the tears slipped out and the goop splashed up when he instinctively tried to wipe them away with a hand that wasn’t there.

“You’re spilling!” Hattie interrupted, jolting upward and hurrying over, placing her arms around the rim but the added tears were causing his anxious sloshing to spill over. “Stop crying!”

“What?” He jolted, shifting his eyes around and catching glimpses of purple and gold staining her sleeves. Her dismayed features above him only encouraged his tears and he made a muffled sniffling noise as panic surged and his tears swelled.

“Dad!” she yelped. But her own distraught features cleaved through his squishy, melted chest.

“I-I can’t! Give me a moment!” Twisting away, he tried to lock his eyes on something to ground himself, but in his panic, he kept attempting to turn and wipe his tears. The spilling goop sloshed uncontrollably.

“Try to laugh!” Hattie begged. “Tell me a stupid joke!”

“Ah, uh.” He pressed his lips into a tight line as he struggled to think of something. “Um. You know what? This situation really pails in comparison to—uh—that one time we teleported into that bear den!”

“What?” Hattie furrowed her brows. But it looked like her tears halted in confusion.

“P-pails, like a pun? It’s a joke. It’s supposed to be funny. Please laugh,” he said weakly. He blinked and let out a tight exhale as he felt himself calm and the rest of the goop start to settle.

“That’s a stupid joke.” Hattie sniffled as she leaned back and slowly lifted her arms, revealing sleeves soaked with purple sludge.

“I got buckets of them.” He added a sardonic, “ha,” as the gold ebbed. While a few dancing droplets of tears wiggled in his goop, now that he was calmer, trembling splashes no longer spilled over the rim.

Hattie wrung out the sleeves. He flinched at the droplets that pelted his face and sent ripples along the surface.

“That’s even worse,” she sighed, though a small smile found its way onto her features. She tugged up one of her sleeves and gingerly reached over and wiped at the edge of his eye.

He grunted, squeezing it shut but when she pulled away, he watched her flick a golden droplet towards the grass. He sighed, blowing a few bubbles.

“Please don’t do my job tomorrow,” he said quietly. “We’ll be okay.”

She nodded slowly before thinking better of it.

“Only if you promise not to push yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” he said tiredly before he yawned. Sludge dribbled into his mouth, and he sputtered.

“Sleep.” She poked the goop. He shifted his eyes next to her finger, which was the closest he could come to giving her an encouraging nuzzle.

“What about you?” he asked, staring up at the canopy of leaves. There was still sunlight trickling down, but it seemed fainter.

“I can eat soon,” she shrugged.

“Wake me if you need anything,” he muttered, feeling his eyelids grow heavy.

Did he even have eyelids at this point? Maybe it was more that his eyes were sinking. Might be more apt.

Hattie promised to, but he had a feeling they both knew she would deal with any problem on her own before waking him. Frowning, he supposed the best thing he could do for her would be to recover as swiftly as possible.

He settled into the bucket, and soon enough, the sludge began to ripple as he automatically purred. He caught Hattie’s stifled snort at the vibrating bucket before he fell asleep.

Night blanketed the forest by the time he woke up again. Still purring, he blinked as he felt something shift. The rippling rumbles of goop seemed to be tightening and when he moved to lift his head, he peeked over the rim of the bucket. Relief swelled inside as he spotted Hattie’s back. She was drawing by the fire, safe and sound.

Edging backward, he tilted his head down, blinking at the vibrating goop as it slowly re-solidified into shape. After a moment, he lifted his noodle arms and wiggled his chameleon paws. Funny, he was actually relieved to see them for once. Once his tail formed, he heaved out a sigh. There wasn’t a drop of him left behind in the bucket, but now he took up less volume.

“Kiddo,” he called softly, floating up to the rim of the bucket and placing his hands on the edge, curling his tail beneath himself.

“Dad!” Hattie gasped when she saw his familiar form. Scrambling around, she darted over, and he flew up into her embrace.

“You’re tiny,” she muttered into the plush fluff around his neck. His tail waved back and forth as he returned her firm hug.

“I’m sure I’ll get back to normal size,” he guessed. Probably. After a long enough rest without using his shapeshifting.

Moments passed until he caught a low grumble coming from Hattie’s stomach. He craned his neck with a smirk.

“In the meantime, are there anymore marshmallows to share?”

“I ate them all. Remember our math quiz? Zero left.” Hattie said without missing a beat as she turned back around and brought him to the fireside. “Just kidding, I saved you some.”

“That’s my girl!” His tail waved harder as he chuckled.

He extended an arm towards the bag, noting that he couldn’t really stretch it like usual, and made a grasping motion. Hattie plopped the bag into her lap, still using an arm to hug him, and they both took turns popping the confections into their mouths.

Yes, after a week’s worth of rest, he would grow to his usual massive size and when he could shapeshift again, he would have to deal with the consequences of missing so much work. But until then, he and Hattie would take it day by day and one marshmallow at a time.

#ahit coffee shop au #doodledrawsthings #ahit prince #ahit hat kid #my writing #*kickflips into ur tumblr experience wearing rubber fishing suspenders and a cap that says 'words want me. ghost dads fear me'*#Me: Bucket's haunted #You probably: What?#Me not breaking eye contact as i grab a pail and head for the exit: Bucket's haunted #this got very long whoops #but i hope its a fun read!#thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

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goldenscalez-art · 3 years

Text

Fishing

Non-canon (maybe?) story

Summary: Small gift for @endominator! Rodan has a nice time with Godzilla

“So uh… what do you want to do?” The bird asked the lizard softly. It’s been a long time they hung out, they turned distant after The Battle, but, today, he visited him. Seems he wanted to fix their relationship, this was unusual…

“Well… Maybe we can… hunt together? I know you like fish as much as me” Godzilla responded, softly as well. He turned away and faced to the horizon to hide his soft smile, his tail twitched before turning back at the bird

“Why did you look away?” Rodan had noticed Godzilla’s weird attitude, he found it amusing. He shook his flaming wings before laying his head on the rim of his volcano, staring up at the lizard. He admired him…

Godzilla widened his eyes before responding “I- uhh- I was just checking something! Nothing to worry about” He said while his voice stuttered.

“For a King you’re really insecure, aren’t you?” He smiled and laughed softly at him, it was funny seeing the “King” acting like a cub. Almost no one knows of this side of his.

“Th-that’s not the point at the moment, okay?” He avoided the bird’s question with the same tone, his tail kept twitching nervously

“Fine” He laughed again before lifting his head up and raising his body a bit, lava flowed down his molten rock armor “So… we hunt?”

Godzilla couldn’t help but chuckle and tilt his head “Yes”. The lizard, then, stood up and looked at the ocean before waiting for the bird to get out of his volcano.

Rodan spread his wings and use them to help himself out. Both Titans stared at each other and smiled softly “You’re a good friend, you know that?” The bird had said

Godzilla was… impressed. He? A good friend? He always thought he was being harsh with everyone. He turned away and responded “I… I try…” His snout twitched

Both stayed silent for a second before the bird spoke up “Alright, let’s go! The one who catches the biggest fish wins!” Before he could finish Rodan had already taken to the sky; Godzilla looked up and reacted fast

“Not fair!” He said annoyed before walking up to the coast and submerging himself under the water. The fish hunt has started!

…

Rodan’s flying speed gave an advantage to him and he reached his favorite fishing place. Hopefully he is lucky and there’s big whales nearby…

He did his normal technique, hover in the air and wait for the fish to be near the surface. His golden eyes were fixated on the blue ocean, deeply concentrated. Better not miss a good opportunity that might give him a win

It’s been over an hour and he has caught some fish, but they weren’t big enough, he needed something bigger to beat Godzilla! He kept hovering until he finally saw signs of a good catch, another shadowy figure appeared near the surface of the water, a big one. It’s his opportunity…

He dived down as fast as his wings could him and opened his beak. He splashed on the water while he closed his jaw and held a strong grip on the fish’s now bleeding body, he flew out of the water and pulled the creature out with him, it squirmed heavily, trying to escape, but to no avail. Rodan inspected his catch, it was a whale, a big whale! It was perfect! He chuckled with joy before turning his body and flying back to his volcano with his beak still getting hold of the whale. He was careful as he didn’t want his good catch to fall to the water and lose it.

…

Godzilla lost some time while heading to the water, but he was a fast swimmer, it shouldn’t take him long to find a good catch. He lived most of his life in the water, he knew where the biggest fish would be.

He didn’t have trouble finding the location, an open place where the biggest whales used to travel to, he swam down and hid under the water’s darkness waiting for his prey.

For him it felt like an eternity had passed before a whale came through, he was probably running out of time; all he kept spotting was small fish that were of no use, but he didn’t give up and kept waiting until finally something promising appeared; the shadow of a whale loomed above him. He finally found the perfect prey.

The whale was oblivious of its fate. The next moment Godzilla swam as fast as he could to the whale, it had not time to react before it was caught on the lizard’s jaws and sharp teeth. Goji bit down at the squirming fish preventing it from escaping until it went limp, blood floating in the area. This seemed perfect to him, he smirked softly before swimming back to Rodan’s volcano.

…

Godzilla arrived last, Rodan had reached the coast before him, he held his catch on his beak with a proud look as he glanced at the surfacing lizard, who also had his catch on his jaws.

Both Titans leaned down and laid their catches on the sand, it was the moment of truth! Time to see who’s catch was bigger…

“I’m sure I won” The bird said proud of himself and he looked up at the lizard with a smirk.

The lizard chuckled before he replied with a smirk as well “No, I think I did”

“Well then, let’s see” Rodan said before switching the whales and explaining what they’ll do to determine the winner “I’ll compare yours with mine while you compare mine with yours. No lying!”

“Hmph! How do I know you won’t lie? Knowing you, you’ll do anything to win” Godzilla was skeptical of Rodan, they’ve been friends for a long time, he already knows his tricks!

“You’re a smart one” He laughed before speaking again “Fine, I won’t cheat this time, promise”

Godzilla narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to him in suspicion, but he trusted him. “Alright…”

Both Titans leaned down again and started comparing their whales, they compared their length and width. This took them 5 minutes before both Titans reached a conclusion

They lifted their body and started at each other, the bird’s golden eyes reach the lizard’s bright yellow. They each had a confused expression on their faces

They tied…

They looked down at their respective whales before Rodan broke the silence, he started laughing softly and sat down on the sand, his laugh echoed through the air until the lizard joined in, also laughing softly on the sand. This went on for some time until finally both Titans calmed down and silence ensued again

Rodan broke the silence again “This was fun…” He looked up and smiled at the lizard happily, it’s been a long time since they’ve hung out or played like this, it was nice doing it again…

“It was…” Godzilla said softly before looking down and smiling. He genuinely enjoyed doing this, being alpha was tiring but playing with Rodan relieved the stress.

Rodan spoke up again in a soft voice “Wanna eat?” He kept smiling at him and ruffled his wings, he felt he was being awkward

“Sure” Godzilla said and twitched his tail feeling awkward and nervous

“I’ll let you eat mine, I can eat yours if that’s fine” Rodan replied

Godzilla nodded and smiled before grabbing the whale below him and feasting on it, Rodan followed behind.

They ate in silence, each facing the horizon while turning at each other sometimes, when they finished Rodan spoke up again

“Th… thank you for being my friend…” He said softly and nervously as he looked down, feeling embarrassed.

“You’re… you’re welcome… I’m glad you’re my friend too” The lizard replied looking at him and smiling

Rodan lifted his head up and looked at him silently, smiling back, then both turned to the now sun that was setting, its rays hitting their bodies…

That was a nice day.

#This was really fun to write!!#Sorry if there are any typos or grammar mistake #I’m still new to this AUSH #hope you enjoyed <:0 #godzilla #Rodan #rodzilla #my Story #stories #au #main au #my au #art #Story

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obutsuwrites · 3 years

Text

salt water (seamonster!shiggy x f!reader)

summary: “Of course not! I like talking to you.” Inky black tentacles twitched under the curtain of waves. ‘She’d cower. Make herself as small as she needed to be; pathetic and crawling.’ Tenko grinned at the thought. She was nothing more than meat on a slab. xxx or the time i write monster shiggy ft. ocean imagery warnings: dubcon, drowning, mind control, tentacle sexey times, vore, smut, oviposition word count: 4,468 taglist: @kaccatus @sadjealouswhore @tenaciousgothstudentauthor masterlist | tipjar | twitter | commission info

The ocean lapped against her knees in gentle waves. It was refreshing and cool; a morning breeze she wanted to submerge herself in and never leave. This was her sanctuary, her home. The ocean -- in its inky blackness -- was almost like a lover. The waves were little arms that entangled around her ankles and upper calves. Simple, harmless flirting until the woman finally took the plunge and allowed the ocean to swallow her whole. She would only tread lightly; growing up in a little sea-side shack carried the reality of her lover; silent waves could shift and evolve into violent tides.

She squinted as the afternoon sun pierced her eyes. It sat high in the cloudless, cobalt sky. An orange giant that radiated such intense heat, despite the forecast claiming otherwise. The sun was hot against the small of her back; skin exposed and soft. The woman allowed her body to sink further into the salty brine. She shivered at the chill, but it was a welcome distraction from the humidity. As she waded further into the deep, bits of seaweed danced around her legs. Slimy and unpleasant. The woman shoved down her discomfort, it was only temporary.

She swam apathetic laps. Her body was now accustomed to the chill. In the benign quiet, the woman’s mind began to wander. The sea allowed for more than just cooling off; peaceful and cerebral. After several soft loops, she rescinded herself to float atop the navy sea surf. The woman’s lazy gaze was glued to the sky. Her body was delicately rocked, a lullaby she wanted to submerge herself into for eternity. Sometimes, she wondered if the ocean was capable of violence. To her, it was nothing but serenity and placidity. The woman knew tales of drownings and bizarre, awful sea creatures… However, she had experienced neither within her rather mundane life. Fingers grasped at the azure water, eyes shifting to stare into the great abyss. Despite squinting, the woman couldn’t see to the bottom. She wondered if it was so deep that light simply didn’t refract.

A crackle sounded off in the distance; the beginning of a storm, she noted. Storms were something she knew all too well. Humidity and the frigid ocean mixed together often to form thunderous, dark clouds that beat against her shack. Angry and fierce. Eventually, the waves would pick up, as if to respond with equal force to the storm, like two lovers fighting.

Reluctantly, she began her trek back to shore. Perhaps, she could watch the rain beat on her windows. The wind picked up; the smell of the sea working its way into her nose. Salty and fresh. However, seaweed was strong and wrapped around her ankles. This wasn’t unusual for the woman; the sea could be a difficult lover. The shore was still far away, not even within her reach. Her feet hadn’t even touched the smooth surface of rocks. Slight panic wove into her chest, the sensation tight and heavy. Kicking her legs, the woman tried to swim past the monstrous clump of plant matter. She had done this before. Seaweed wasn’t thick like this and despite her best efforts, her legs were still knotted in the dense foliage.

The woman continued to kick her legs, the movements morphing into desperation and anxiety. This was foreign to her. The sea wasn’t a maze of fear and panic, yet here she was, arms flailing and face red.

“H-help!” It was a futile scream; the beach today was empty and she was alone. The sea was going to swallow her and she was alone. Her mind raced with images of her barren skeleton nestled between dead plants and sunken ships. A bleak resting place.

The sky twisted into a dark caricature of itself; bleak with clouds hiding the sun. Her terror was tangible now as sea foam bubbles seeped into her mouth. Coughs and spit erupted from the woman. Static portraits of her life played like a macabre theater. ‘No! Please no! I don’t wanna die!’ The ocean was a lover scorn; waves began to pick up. The woman feared her body would disappear beneath the current, but the seaweed kept her anchored. Safe.

Her throat grew dry with cries that fell on deaf ears. This is how she would die; crushed beneath azure crests with an angry sky. She gave up and became complacent in her fate. Tears flowed freely down puffy, coral cheeks.

Suddenly, she felt a long tendril wrap around her thigh. This material wasn’t seaweed, it was different. Spongey. Organic. The coil traveled down her leg and freed her lower form.

Breath caught in her throat expanded into the salty, swampy air. “T-thank you!”

Fire crackled and the air was balmy; the woman was determined to expunge any cold. Overcast clouds brought in a certain chill, which was only compacted by her waterlogged clothing. Her brassiere had started the slow process of becoming solid again; a fuzzy towel wrapped around jittery shoulders. She believed the suction cup lined tentacle was an octopus.

“They can be quite helpful. Suction cups are made for -- for sticking.” Truthfully, the sentence was tangible and real for a simple reason; it felt more real. It was far too horrible to believe sea monsters had invaded her paradise.

She awoke with a start. Electricity already burning obnoxiously in her veins. The thought was a joke at first; throw out food to the anonymous ocean critter that had rescued her. It was fair. She wanted to repay the kindness. No animal was suited for her sea excursionist. Her love was the ocean firstly; everything came in violent crashes next. Purely no room for animals. However, this being -- this animal. She needed to remind herself it was an animal. Animals can just be smart.

“Like octopi. Or maybe -- maybe a squid.” ‘Octopi’ was a new word; something the woman picked up from long study sessions in the town library. The building was a crypt, dusty and decrepit. Relics from before the second war, chalky volumes of history and academics… but they held the most beautiful anatomical drawings. Precise lines formed into a web of a body on delicate paper. She wanted to rip them from their pages and exhibit the art upon her walls. It was a guilty feeling the woman had to bury. Deep.

Octopi were carnivores, which meant they ate meat. Things like fish, sharks -- even birds. On occasion, the invertebrate would drown their prey. She loathed the vulgar imagery of an octopus immersing a bird into her sea -- into the great blue only to disappear under murky depths. The mental painting seemed so far off -- so distant from her benevolent savior.

There was a certain click in her step, her movements jovial and careless. Her limbs were wire and ethereal. After a masochistic study session, the woman felt confident enough to pursue the octopus. The plan itself was half-baked, but she was… hopeful. Her wallet wouldn’t survive otherwise; she was too naive, trusting and allowed a butcher to sell her a suspiciously warm steak. Little flashes of the overripe meat squirming with maggots skipped through her mind.

“I hope you like this!”

She threw the steak into the ocean. A smile had eased onto her face.

After several minutes a bitter call echoed from the sea. “Not this, stupid.” The voice was scratchy and harsh; like a sweater. Goosebumps developed and her lungs burned.

‘What an unfortunate sound.’

Tenko wasn’t a beast per se. He was merely acting on instinct, but he wasn’t all bad. That idiot woman carried a delicious fragrance; her pores were just leaking it. His primal instincts demanded Tenko to clamp his beak over her clavicle. He wanted to peak at her flesh until only ribbons clung to her skeleton… but he was lonely. Tenko was lonely and needed a friend -- needed her. The woman’s cries seemed so inviting. She made pathetic little sounds that were like music to him. He decided to play along, in the hopes of revealing in her fear again.

Women weren’t unknown to Tenko; they were little sacks of meat that nourished him. However, this wench was something entirely different. She didn’t belong within the predetermined hierarchy and Tenko absolutely fucking hated her for it. Her gestures were carefree and swaying; large hips on full display. The woman wench deserved to know her place.

‘No one else would do it. It has to be me.’

An uncomfortable silence inched between them, the steak long gone. The realization wasn’t kind to her. This wasn’t an octopus; this was something worse. Something bad that could speak. Her skin felt slimy and dirty now. She rubbed at her ankles. Waiting for a response was becoming a real experience -- complete with the bells and whistles of anxiety. The woman’s back was on the sea. She refused to greet the monstrosity.

“I’m… sorry. It’s been so long since I had company.” A soft reflection was in the voice; gentle regret. How could she resist? Tenko was being vulnerable now, if not a little sad. But it was necessary. Feigning humanity would lead his prey in with wide, innocent eyes.

With a back turned, the woman took a step away from the benign waves. “You talk?” She didn’t want to ask anymore -- she didn’t want to engage the abnormality any further.

A low whistle crept across the oceanic landscape.

“Yes. Can we be f… friends?”

‘Her little brain must weigh nothing,’ Tenko thought, ‘A stupid broad like her is lucky to even be alive.’ The mortal was braindead enough to put trust in him, he didn’t even have to beg. Well, he didn’t have to beg as much as he anticipated. Her vibrating fear could be felt even within the depths of his domain. Tenko found it pathetic, in all honesty, but saliva pooled at the thought of her. Naked. Afraid. All primed and ready to be devoured… ‘Such a delicate body. It’s really a shame I’ll leave blemishes.’

Within a week’s time, the raspy, sea-salt coated voice was the woman’s dearest friend. Her only friend. It was unnatural at first. The ocean wasn’t sentient, it couldn’t have a soul, and yet something would respond to her questions and ramblings. Always patient and kind hearted. She was curious if the voice was even a sea creature.

‘What if you’re the sea?’

Her mouth opened and closed, mimicking a question. She was curious if the voice had a name. There was certainly nothing offered up; the voice had demanded the woman never swim again -- never look into the great depths. At her sheepish request, the voice shook with rage that trembled and quaked in their words. It was the first time the woman remembered that this voice wasn’t human and maybe it didn’t -- maybe they didn’t function by the natural laws of man.

A wave bumped against the beachfront. Her name carried off of the breeze, followed by a pause, and then, “What was your question?”

“It’s… uh, it’s stupid, really,” she replied, eyes stuck on her modest shack. Confidence was lacking in her voice; the woman now shrinking before Tenko.

The stench of her was in the water now; Tenko scrunched his face in response. Focusing on her was a part of the plan. His desire for the broad would be found eventually, but he needed to bite down any residual lust that floated around. Her smell was so pungent that it made Tenko’s stomach burn and twist. Like a heated wrench.

He was growing bored. Impatient. Hunting was never a show like this. Hunting was hunting -- killing and eating with bits of flesh mixing with crimson. The sea looked best like that; bloody, a massacre of sin. Tenko should have eaten her a week before. She was stupid and within his grasp… but he let her go. A mistake he wouldn’t make twice.

“Of course not! I like talking to you.” Inky black tentacles twitched under the curtain of waves. ‘She’d cower. Make herself as small as she needed to be; pathetic and crawling.’ Tenko grinned at the thought. She was nothing more than meat on a slab.

His words of encouragement were like a shock to the system. Something was in those words, something the woman craved. Her chest tightened and words washed upon shore, “Can… can I see you?”

It was a simple question, and yet Tenko hated it. He knew this day would come, but he prepared little in the way of comfort. His face twisted into a scowl as little angry bubbles surfaced.

“Why? Aren’t you afraid? I can feel your tremors from here.” Tenko wanted to squash her curiosity. This game of cat and mouse shouldn’t end so abruptly. He wanted more play time with his food. Fear was a seasoning that couldn’t be wasted. A precious resource only for him.

The ocean was quiet now, its rage worn down and tired. The woman looked out into the azure water and tried to gather her remaining courage. Tenko’s voice was unlike the kind tone she was accustomed to; his response was harsh and laced with seafoam. This wasn’t her disembodied companion. This was a creature.

“N-no,” she hesitated. Her words were anchored in her belly. She looked away from the azure abyss, fear creeping into her chest. The woman knew nothing of her companion -- only that he saved her. Surely, he couldn’t be some monstrous bundle of tentacles and eyes. He had to be more… human.

Silence sat between them. Tenko began to impulsively curl his tentacles. He found the quiet annoying and somehow a little frightening. Perhaps his meal was reconsidering their arrangement. ‘You couldn’t,’ Tenko thought while the sun shrunk behind a cloud, ‘you’re too stupid.’ Befriending him -- feeling sorry for such a gluttonous horror was a fool’s mistake. His heart hummed at the thought of her bare and bloodied.

The death of their conversation was awkward, if not heavy. Truthfully, the woman blamed herself for it. Feet nestled in warm sand; her mind straying back to Tenko. She knew he was beneath the oceanic canvas. Hidden away. ‘Hiding from me.’ Mournful eyes watched the sea. The day was dreary. No clouds. Sun scorned and resting. The sky held a drab palette; rainbows of blacks and grays formed into being. She wondered if the ocean was ever this ugly.

Tenko came to his great conclusion; ‘I can eat your pea-sized brain now, can’t I? You’re probably stinking with guilt. So worried about your only friend.’ Slowly, Tenko lifted the tip of his beak into the air. Her pungent rot was like driftwood; moldy and earthy. She sickened him, but his body and mind weren’t one. Two muddled pieces that ached for both devouring her whole, and filling her disgusting guts with him. Tenko wanted to breed her -- watch his mewling little mortal stretch with his eggs.

Tenko’s stomach growled.

“What -- what’s your name?”

His beak quickly retracted back into the salty brine. In his chest was a heart pounding against his rib cage. She was so close. She was so close. ‘Stupid and trustworthy. You’d do anything for a friend. You’d do anything… for me.’ Tenko realizes this and seizes his dinner bell, “T-Tenko. Can you come into the water?” Saliva pools at the back of his throat, “I’m lonely.”

The voice was heartbroken. His Tenko’s vocal cords were raspy, as if he gorged himself on salt water. A certain note of despair lingered in his sentence. The woman gave one last look into the vast blue before plunging her toes into saline waters.

It was as cold as the grave. Yet the coolness of it was relaxing. Hypnotizing. The ocean was calling out to her, its wet claws draped around her ankles, pleading with her to stay. She thought her ears caught a whisper from the depths; “Don’t go.”

Everything was falling into his lap. First, she decided to trust him. Then she found comfort. Now, she belongs to him. Every chunk of flesh, every spec of marrow -- all his. He would suck her bones dry and drain her. ‘I’m going to devour you in the worst way.’

Her voice trembled with an alien sort of fear, “Tenko…” Water soaked into her dress, the cotton sticking to her shivering form. “Tenko, I’m scared.” Salt water was plugged into her nostrils. The strong scent was almost nauseating. There was a dull twinge in her heart. ‘Magical octopi,’ she chanted, ‘enchanted animal that speaks!’ Despite her conviction, salivation was unheard. The icy water rested just under her collarbone. Its gentle current nipped at her skin. She suppressed a shiver, keeping her legs kicking. The woman waited until something spongy -- familiar -- grabbed her calf.

“You’re here.” The woman released a forgotten breath. Her chest was unraveling; the feeling of him was… comforting. This was her friend. ‘He wouldn’t hurt me.’ Her salt stained lips pitched into a grin.

Tenko envisioned violently dragging her squirming body. Little bubbles trailing behind, her last breaths. Gentle face painted into horror. He wondered if she would fight back; maybe pitifully grab at his tentacles? Tenko’s eyes widened in excitement, her legs sending waves. ‘Finally you made it, moron girl.’

His words were like a haunting chorus, “It’s okay,” her name was honey in the air, “Can… can you swim to me?” Tenko sounded cautious, ‘He’s worried about me.’ Her one friend -- her one true friend was concerned about her! The woman’s eyes were bright and alive. A smile played on her lips. Tiny butterflies felt like they were gathering in her chest. Tenko needed her. Needed his friend. The loneliness seemed to melt off while her legs worked against the sea, water splashing in every direction. Her body was numb; skin nothing more than drenched. She noted her dress was slowing her down. Tenko was leagues away -- almost impossible. Yet she persisted.

His tentacle was the thread guiding her home -- to him. The rubbery flesh was a trail behind her. It was a reminder that Tenko was close, somehow obscured under blankets of briny water. Looking into the blue void made her stomach tangle together in a mess of anxiety. There was an unknown factor -- a certain fear to the ocean now.

Tenko held a delicate grip. ‘I can’t squeeze you to death just yet.’ He hoped the woman’s death rattles were soft, nothing like a dying creature. Tenko knew she would struggle and seafoam would kick into her lungs, but a part of him wanted her to coo at him. Make little creamy pleas. Stuck in his mirth, Tenko began to pull. The sensation was lost on his meal; her mind too preoccupied with determination. Her feet no longer tapped against slimy seaweed. Instead, the abyss greeted her. Negative space gathered. Nothing to keep the woman afloat except for her own flailing limbs.

A rather thrashing limb caught Tenko in the beak. Instinct took over as he yanked the woman. Aggressive and without tolerance. His beak was strong enough for her kick, but the accidental assault felt purposeful. Her lungs filled only once; to scream. Blue fluttered into her line of sight while bubbles erupted into view. Water rushed into her lungs. She managed a cough, salt in her nose.

The woman fought against the pull. Waterlogged fingers slipping. She clawed at the tentacle as her expression froze in open-mouthed terror. Tenko wished he could see it, but the vibrations of her panicking body would have to do. He wanted to eat her panic. Swallow her whole and stare into the bloody waters she’d create.

“St-stop… struggling so d-damn much,” forming a sentence was hard. This woman -- this squishy little mortal -- continued to fight. Tenko wished she would claw at scratch at him, fear added a certain spice to his meals, but her insensent kicking must stop.

Tenko releases the woman, her little head shooting up and bobbling amongst the current. Greedy lungs sucked in sour sea air. The saline burned down her throat, but she was relieved. ‘I was going to die. Tenko… Tenko wanted to kill me!’ The realization hits like a sandbag. She has to leave now. This creature, no, this monster was nothing but death.

Before she can will her tired body, a melody drifts into her mind.

“Please don’t go.” He sounded so mournful. Grief laced into every word.

She looks into the great blue before responding, “I have to.” Tears brim her eyes, making the world glassy. This was her only friend and yet he wanted to harm her. There was something dangerous to this creature.

Tenko grew impatient. She should simply accept him as he is. This doesn’t need to be unnecessarily difficult… but she was making it difficult. Couldn’t this broad see Tenko only wanted to fill her half eaten, frail body with eggs? It’s a compliment, an implied attraction, and she just had to ruin it. Her little brain cannot even begin to comprehend the damage she’s done.

With great effort, Tenko continued his heartbreaking colloquy, “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t m-mean it.” It’s burdensome to speak such lies, even more of a bother to project them into such an idiot. However, Tenko knew this woman had kindness tucked into her heart. She had no other choice but to forgive. “You want to see me, don’t you? The curiosity must be suffocating.”

She did… She had wondered what Tenko looked like; her mind’s eye wasn’t content with a mermaid. The woman had to see him in all of his glory. His voice was mesmerizing, like sharp ocean currents beating against rock. Her heart slowed to an acceptable pace. The organ no longer hammered into her. Her pulse wasn’t in her ears and the only thing in her stomach was an airy bit of hope. ‘Tenko probably hasn’t had any visitors before. I’m -- I’m his first.’ There was a strange comfort in being Tenko’s only friend.

Something hard bumped against her leg. “Tenko?” She asked, voice small and soft. A vortex of salt water swirled underneath her as a head peaked from beneath a crest of waves. Tenko wasn’t quite as she imagined; her friend resembled a kraken more than a man. His beak was half-way submerged, stringy white hair clung to his worn face. He wore a gentle expression. Her eyes softened at his humanity. Tenko was so close she could smell him. The sharp scent of brine and seaweed permeated the air. A certain warmth settled into her belly.

“Can I… touch you?”

The woman nodded. His tentacle -- slimy now -- interlocked around her arm. The appendage was spongy and its suction cups held onto her with care. She melted into his touch while Tenko guided her into his bare chest. She looked up at him, big doe eyes that held nothing but admiration for the monster. ‘A pity,’ Tenko thought, ‘You didn’t really struggle, did you? You want to be full of my eggs.’ Tenko asserted this belief as another tentacle found the small of her back. Another snaked up her waist and landed on a clothed breast. She shivered in his embrace, the frigid water now soaked into her bones.

Ancient words danced in her mind, “Give yourself to me.” No emotion was behind her eyes, no hint of a human. Instead she steeled herself -- perfect and waiting for Tenko. She was a gift for him. Roughly, his tentacles roamed her body. His suction cups latched and unlatched onto bits of sodden flesh. She was mushy and delicate, like algae. Tenko could break apart her body, bone by bone, until she was dust stuck in his suction cups. A hushed mewl fell from her lips once Tenko brushed against a sensitive nipple. Her face was flushed and glistening. There was a crinkle in her eyes; a foreign ecstasy. The woman’s body hadn’t experienced such a fiery, electric sensation before.

“Don’t…” She buries her face in his chest, “don’t stop, Tenko.” It was too mortifying to allow such a divine creature see her like this. Body peppered with pink and chest heaving against him. She leaned into his touch. He kneaded her skin, spongy suction cups tweaking her nubs. Tenko could feel himself begin to swell, tentacles fat and aching. He looked down at her, drool trailing down his beak.

An eager tentacle harshly grabbed her drenched garment and quickly discarded it to the sea. The woman’s body instinctively shivered, nerves still tender. “Stay still,” Tenko commanded as a tentacle slithered down her stomach, stopping at her waistband.

“Please.” Her eyes are like saucers, innocent and begging. Tenko indulged and a tentacle stroked her wet cunt. The sloppy noise mixed with her insensent moans. It was a chorus of vulgarity. Tenko, however, made no sound. His vocal chords vibrated with animalistic grunts as he explored her body. Another obscene groan finally encouraged the beast; a single tentacle slipped between her thighs.

Her pudgy walls gripped his swollen tentacle like a vice. “S-slow down, Tenko.” The woman felt violated. Tenko was going too fast, not allowing for rest. His tentacle plunged into her, prodding her womb. “Stop! It hurts!” The woman grit her teeth while trying to stifle a cry.

“Quit whining,” Tenko sneered, sharp beak biting down on her collarbone. Iron flooded Tenko’s mouth and a whine played on his lips. She was sweeter than anything -- anyone he had tasted before. Her tainted scent was nothing compared to the meat before him. A piercing yelp sounded from the woman. The shrillness of it only spurred Tenko; his beak gnawing at her open wound.

An orgy of violence and bliss swirled in her mind, twisting into one. Divinity itself was biting into her and marking her as his own. His fat tentacle stretched her to an almost inhuman degree; her face sweaty and mouth open. Drool pooled into her wound and mixed with Tenko’s spit. She wanted to reach up and touch it, feel the feral brand he left. She adjusted to his size, an unfamiliar hotness gathering between her legs.

“F-faster, please.”

Another ethereal voice called to her, carried from the breeze, “You want me to fill you with eggs, don’t you? Say it.”

Dribble spat from her mouth, “Tenko, I want -- please make me fat with your eggs! Breed me!” Painfully, Tenko hammered into her doused cunt, pushing against her cervix, the spongy flesh almost like a pillow. Welcoming. Warming. Wanting him. Her pussy fit perfectly around his engorged tentacle, milking him for every bit of slimy pre-cum.

“Take my eggs, broad,” Tenko growls as a miry egg sloshes into her womb.

A cry permeates the air. “Too big, Tenko. Too big,” the woman heaves. Her mind swimming with one simple phrase; “You’ll be such a good moma.”

#shigiraki x reader #tenko x reader #yandere bnha #smut

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papersong · 3 years

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fathoms deep - ch 4

(Aymeric x WoL!Reader x Haurchefant) Mermaid AU where WoL!Reader rescues Prince Aymeric and gets rescued by Haurchefant.

Read on AO3

Landwalker bodies are weak. You miss your claws and fangs and tail. You've kept your strength from years fighting the currents, but you're still no good with their weapons. The swords and spears feel too light in your hands, too easy to wave about without the expected water resistance. However, what you lack in coordination, you compensate for with sheer power. Before the Temple Knight trainees get a chance to attack, you've already slammed into their sides and wrenched the weapons from their hands.

You were tossing another set into the steadily growing pile of dented swords and shields when the spiky elezen leapt down, seemingly out of the sky. He was fast, perhaps even faster than you. You grinned, baring your teeth at the first real challenge of the morning.

Spiky wasn't just fast. His speed came with precision. Five moves in, you were sure Spiky wasn't fighting seriously, not yet--he was testing the gaps in your armor, except you wore none. When the Temple Knight armory had handed you chainmail, you put it back. Why would you restrict your movements with heavy metal when you had your skin? But landwalker skin is too soft. Ten moves in, your dress is ruined from Spiky's surgical assault.

You couldn't hold out much longer. Spiky went on the offensive after he'd developed a good understanding of your ability. You're far stronger. He's faster, and more skilled. Your brute strength can't touch him. But he wasn't the only one learning. You'd also figured out that your new body may be soft and awkward, but you still had your healing ability. As Spiky became more aggressive, you'd made riskier and riskier moves, until your dress was more blood than virgin fabric. Your wounds still healed near-instantly under the dress--the crimson patches only made you appear weaker.

"Estinien--"

You wave off the interruption absentmindedly, so focused on the fight, you don't notice Aymeric had spoken. Spiky likewise stalks around you, seeking an opening.

Unlike the young Temple Knights you'd been fighting, Spiky won't hold back from hurting you. But he's not trying to kill you, either. You're not sure why he's interested in fighting you, but you think his interest could give you an edge.

He fights like someone used to dealing with--and dodging--irresistible brute force. If you were in the ocean, you could give Spiky a run for his money, using the water flow to slow his movements and misdirect his jumps. You don't know how to do that on land. Your feet hurt, and you're not coordinated enough to get in any hits, though just one would be enough. You can't beat him in a fair fight. But you can't lose, not if you're going to find the blue-haired elezen who saved you. It'll be a risky move, but you've one last ace up your sleeve in your unique biology.

You rush Estinien, putting on a burst of speed to pursue him around the arena. He gets a few stabs in, but eventually you corner him so he must jump to regain his bearings and recover movement space. You turn to the spiky spec in the sky, trying to look dazed while internally, you brace yourself for the pain.

Spiky stabs. You fall to the ground, pulling his spear from your chest. Aymeric lets out a cry of horror as the blood spreads beneath you. Lucia runs to you, calling for chirurgeons. Estinien remains motionless a fulm away. You hold his weapon, feeling your caudal heart pump blood as your systemic heart recovers. His expression is unreadable behind the beaked mask. When you remain unmoving, he stalks cautiously closer to crouch down beside Lucia. The eye of Nidhogg flashes as she examines the wound rapidly closing over your chest.

Estinien realizes your feint. But it's too late. Your open eyes refocus and you leap, shoving Spiky to the ground. You toss aside his helmet and kneel on his neck, both of you knowing that you could crush his unprotected windpipe.

"How?" Spiky demands from beneath you. When you don't respond, he shoves you off. You try to talk and point at your mouth, showing him how no sounds come out.

"She can't speak." Aymeric explains. He takes off his coat, helping you put it on over the ruined dress. You'd reject more fabric wrappings, but it's hard to say no to the prince. He's so gentle. And his coat smells nice, like the expensive scents they ship out from Ul'dah, and--Ooo, his pauldrons--your pauldrons now--are very, very shiny.

"Estinien, this is the Warrior of the Ocean." Aymeric introduces as you sneak fugitive glances at the shiny metal on his coat. He redirects your attention with a hand on the small of your back. "Warrior, Estinien is the Azure Dragoon, Bearer of the Eye of Nidhogg."

Ah, the warriors who fought the great flying landwyrms. No wonder Estinien was so good at evading your powerful attacks. You could learn from his fighting style. But why did Aymeric call him the Azure Dragoon, when his armor was clearly red?

"The Eye roused for her." The Azure Dragoon replies, no longer speaking to you, "But she should not have survived."

Ah. About that. You pull out the notepad Lucia had helped you make with cut-up paper. Using the ink stored in Aymeric's spare birch syrup bottle, you scratch out a stick figure with a fish tail--no, wait. You cross out the fish tail and put in stick-figure legs. Then, you draw two hearts, one on top of your torso, near your throat. You draw a spiky stick figure stabbing the systemic heart. Then, you draw a second auxiliary heart, near the base of your spine.

"You have two hearts." Estinien interprets, "That doesn't explain--"

You reach out and slice your finger open on his spear, showing him how quickly the wound closes. Not as fast as before--your healing ability needs to recover after rebuilding your heart--but still pretty fast.

"And you're swiving indestructible. I see." Estinien's gaze becomes thoughtful before he gathers his long white hair and replaces his helmet. "We'll meet again." He decides before jumping away.

To you, it sounds more like 'we'll fight again.' The unspoken expectation is clear--your mer tricks won't work on Spiky next time. You'll have to practice harder with these unwieldy landwalker limbs.

***

Three chirurgeons arrive at the Congregation to find a pool of blood, but no body. A taciturn blonde Temple Knight dismisses them, but not before a mute woman in the Lord Commander's coat rifles through their bags.

You take all the clean, empty, stoppered glass flasks you find. At the chirurgeons' questioning glances, you draw a series of gil symbols on your notepad, and then gesture to the pool of blood.

The chirurgeons don't get it. You shrug and start scraping the blood into the bottles, remembering Tataru listing the prices that mer blood could fetch in the Limsa Lominsa black market.

***

As you bathe, Lucia brings Aymeric a stack of paperwork.

"Approval for your appointment as Aymeric's personal guard," Lucia explains after you clean up, "Initial here, here, and here." She points to the empty spaces for your name.

Since you've no idea what your name looks like in Ishgardian, you draw fishes on all the signature lines.

#papersong writes #aymeric x wol #aymeric #aymeric de borel #haurchefant x wol #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv wol #reader insert #haurchefant greystone #haurchefant #mermaid #mermay #fathoms deep

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dzamie-oc · 3 years

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14 - Sea

I just... I really like that "here there be dragons" thing, okay? It got the imaginations of old timey bards and seafaring boasters going, and it gets me thinking about dragons, too.

Length: 1600 words Rating: G Summary: A sailor goes exploring in what he thinks are uncharted waters. He finds them perfectly charted.

-----

William checked his boat’s navigator against the old map spread on the table. It wasn’t a treasure map, and a lot of the handwriting on it was barely this side of legible, but it was one of his father’s most prized possessions, and he intended to finish it. The old man had always insisted to him that it already had been, but Will was no fool. Written on the space just - he checked his speed - just five minutes away was, in large script, “Here There Be Dragons.” He’d tried to explain to his dad that that was what old cartographers would write in unexplored areas, where the unknown was speculated to have fantastical, unreal beasts, but all that ever got him was a condescending smile and a shake of his head.

He wasn’t going to deface the map, of course; he was raised better than to mistreat old heirlooms. He was, however, going to fill in the region on a copy he’d made. Probably with some little doodles of fish, unless an island popped up real soon. Until then, of course, there was little reason not to enjoy the salty sea air, so Will set the navigation computer and strolled out onto the deck to watch and listen to the waves.

The sun shone splendidly down with only a few clouds in the sky, and its light glittered off the wide, open waters. Will half wished he’d brought some fishing equipment, though admitted to himself that it would mostly be there for habit - an excuse to just sit back and relax while pretending not to be wasting time. After motoring to the middle of the “Here There Be Dragons,” noting the surprisingly shallow depth on the fathometer, and anchoring his vessel, the amateur sailor went around the deck, trying to see anything of note in the area. He thought he caught a glimpse of a fish over one side, but other than that, nothing, after the better part of half an hour.

He made a note of the somewhat shallow water on his map, and went to draw the anchor back up. However, the thought of relaxing in calm waters tugged at his mind, so he stayed his hand and instead settled himself in a chair outside the cabin. After all, he reasoned, he had budgeted ample time to explore an uncharted island or a somehow still-floating derelict, so he might as well use it for a nap. And like that, to the sounds of the waves ebbing and flowing atop the water, and gently slapping against the boat’s hull, he let himself fall asleep.

“...rwater? Captain Bradley? Is that you? Wow, time has been good to you!” a female voice said, rousing William from sleep.

Groggy, the sailor stretched, then squinted towards the voice, shading his eyes with his hand. “Miss? Who... why are you out so far? There’s nothing here.”

The voice made a confused noise. “Hm? I live here, don’t you remember? Oh no, did you somehow lose your memory?”

William shook his head. “Gimme a second, here.” He rose from his chair and stumbled slightly, catching himself on what felt like damp leather. “Thanks, but ma’am, you’re soaked!” Finally, he was able to clear his vision and adjust to the sunlight once again, and nearly fainted dead away at the sight.

“Well, SOME of us swim through the water,” said the scaly, blue-green... creature. One forepaw was outstretched to keep William balanced, and her hindlegs were easily a dozen feet past that. She resembled an eel, with her long body and her even longer tail, sporting a single fin down her length, and her head was almost avian with its triangular shape and beak-like muzzle, except she was absolutely covered in scales, and sported a single horn right below her eyes. The shape of her face didn’t lend itself to smiling, and nor do many animals express themselves with a smile, but the tone of her voice told him plainly of her happy, playful attitude.

Will realized he was staring, and tried to figure out whether it was more important that he was staring at a very large, potentially carnivorous creature with claws and what must be a powerful tail, or staring for an awfully long time at someone who thought she was familiar with him. Before he could come to a conclusion, however, the creature drew back and veritably strutted about the deck, striking a pose and showing off the profile of her horned head. “Hey, I hardly blame you for looking, when what you’ve got to look at is a dragoness as beautiful as me. But, seriously, are you okay, Bradley? You’ve hardly said a word.”

“Sorry, who do you think I am? I’ve never been out here,” Will admitted, then took a careful step towards the cabin. “Please don’t kill me.”

“You’re not Captain Bradley Clearwater?” the dragon asked, “then... why do you have his boat? And look just like him?”

“No, I’m William Clearwater,” he replied, half out of habit, “Bradley was my fa-”

The two of them stopped and stared at each other in shocked silence as the pieces clicked into place.

“Bradley had a kid!?” she shouted and rushed towards Will. “And he didn’t TELL me!?”

Will, to his credit, displayed a phenomenal reaction time, diving away from the lunging sea monster. Peering out from the cabin door, he saw her hesitate, then take a step back. “Also, uh,” she said with less energy than earlier, “I’m not going to kill you. Or, well, I’d rather not. Decency aside, Bradley would be pissed if I killed his kid.”

The sailor took a tentative step out of the cabin, though stayed close by and warily eyed the dragon. “Okay, first thing’s first, I’m dreaming, right? Fell asleep on the open ocean, and my mind is making up some sort of benevolent sea monster who knows my dad?”

The creature shook her head. “I don’t think so, unless you’ve been asleep for longer than you’ve been alive. I’m just one of the only dragons who let humans see us. How is Bradl- your dad, anyway? It’s been awhile.”

“He...” Will sighed. “He passed away a few years ago. That’s why I have his boat.”

“Oh. And you came to tell me the news?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t even know you existed - er, no offense. I just came because of a map he made that had been bugging me.”

“Ooh, a treasure map?” She stepped forward, her body lightly wiggling from nose to tail. “Can I see?”

Will looked at her still-wet body, and thought of the aged paper map. “I’ll... here, let me show you the copy I made. It’s not a treasure map.” He ducked in, grabbed his map from the table, and walked over, holding it so they both could see. “See, the only difference was that his map had a “Here There Be Dragons” in this empty spot, so I came to finish exploring.” He blinked, then looked at her. “Also, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Well, if you were your dad, I wouldn’t have needed to tell you, so I haven’t yet. I’m Carol,” Carol said. “If that’s the only difference, I’d say it is a treasure map.”

“Wait, what?” Will stared frantically all over the map, looking for some hint or clue or anything that he might have missed, that Carol had somehow seen immediately. “How?”

“The real one says “Here There Be Dragons,” right?” She stepped back and raised a forepaw to her scaly chest, standing proud. “I’m the treasure!”

“No, it’s a shorthand that medieval cartographers used to represent... ah, nevermind.” Will smiled. “In that case, I think I’d like to get to know this treasure, at least for a couple of hours before I head back.”

“Awesome, I love talking about myself!” Carol chirped. “Plus, you definitely have to catch me up on the last... three hundred moons or so?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Will returned his map to the cabin, then emerged onto the deck once more to pass the time with his unexpected guest.

-----

Dragon and sailor spent the next few hours talking, teaching each other about their cultures, and just hanging out in general. By the time William had to leave, he had grown bold enough to ask if he could feel her scales - on purpose, this time, and Carol was more than happy to show him just where on her head to rub, and then joked that now, he was obligated to do that more, the next time he visited. After he said his goodbyes, Carol dove over the side of the boat and into the water. It surprised William, how little her leap made the boat rock back and forth, and what small splash she made, in spite of being easily four or five times as long as he was tall.

Carol helped lift the anchor, even though William tried to explain that it was an automatic thing now. Once it was all up, they bid farewell one last time, and then William started up the engine. With Carol keeping her neck and one forepaw above the water, the two waved at each other for a bit as they receded into their respective distances, and then the dragon vanished beneath the waves, leaving the man to his thoughts.

William looked at his map, thinking about his original plan for the trip - to prove to himself (and his father’s memory) that the map really was incomplete. He stared at the little mark he made on his map, noting the unexpectedly shallower waters he dropped anchor in. And, with a confident, humorous smile he suspected looked like the one his dad gave him whenever he brought up the old map, William put pen to paper, making sure to write in the correct place, and write legibly:

“Here There Be Dragons”

#dragon #dragons #smaugust #sea serpent #sailing #writing #writers on tumblr #smaugust 2021 #sea #sea dragon #text

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quilloftheclouds · 3 years

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AIGHT I’VE BEEN PROVOKED HERE WE GO

BIG LONG LIGHT SIREN FACTS RANT UNDER THE CUT HAVE FUN

Sirens are (usually) unable to be directly influenced by other sirens’ magic. This rule DOES NOT apply to Light sirens (kinda):

>> Light magic manipulates light waves/particles, which means Light magic users can manipulate and choose which light waves/particles hit your eyes, and which don’t.

>> They’re not manipulating your vision (which would be manipulating other sirens directly), they’re manipulating what enters your vision.

Light sirens have two pairs of eyes. One pair of these eyes sees the world as anyone else would, although often with a higher tolerance for the dark due to their time in the ocean depths, but that other pair (the lower pair)... those eyes see magic “echoes”.

>> Active magic is visible when its out in the open air. It appears as a glowing, colourful mist-like form that flows according to the user’s conscious control. But when inside an object, or generally inactive, it’s virtually invisible.

>> Except to Light sirens. To that second pair of eyes, a faded (but still visible) coloured mist is visible as an aura around stored magic, or as a colourful glow that trails after where it was previously active. The more recent the magic use, the brighter the “echo”. These “echoes” are not technically... of this world (dimension?), so they can’t be manipulated or hidden by ANYONE.

Particularly skilled Light sirens can actually hide their magic use from others by directing the light waves emitted by that glowing magic mist away from witnesses’ eyes. Those magic “echoes”, though? Any other Light siren can see those, which means they can see through the illusion being cast.

Another fact train! Light siren magic isn’t just one colour per individual as it is for other siren types. Each Light siren possesses a spectrum of colours that fall within their control, and those colours are what their active magic gradients through! Aka their eye colour and that glowy mist that happens when they use magic. This spectrum is usually fairly small, occurring in the visible spectrum of light, maybe from green to blue or red to orange, but on the rare occasion they can range three or four major colours, like orange to blue. (Often a sign of more powerful magic.) So a Light siren’s “illusions” can only fall within those colours!

>> It’s rumoured that only one Light siren had (has?) control over all colours, and not only of the visible spectrum.

On another point entirely! Mouths! Light sirens don’t... really... have one? They do. It’s just not. Human at all. It’s a beak! Like a squid or octopus, with a coiled tongue with sharp teeth on it (called a radula). owo This means they can’t speak the same way as other siren types, being unable to audibly form sounds with their mouth or throat, so they usually communicate with their magic by illusion-formed messages!

>> This is super confusing for other siren types, though, so it’s only another reason for the fear of Light sirens by the other types. :c

Light siren skin is usually too delicate and sensitive towards strong light for them to actually swim too close to the surface: on the rare occasion, some brave souls make a trip towards the sky during the night to see the stars!

>> Stars are still very important to Light siren lore, but as they’re such a rarity to see, they navigate by strong magic echoes instead: certain specific regions preserve powerful magic echoes visible to Light sirens and very, very rarely change, so they’re used as landmarks!

As resources are incredibly limited deep in the dark areas where Light sirens call home, stories are valued more than anything. Anytime Light sirens meet, they’ll share what they’ve learned through their magic illusions, usually making them the brightest, most beautiful things, like artistic films! They also share a meal, share a home, and anything else to help each other out, but only for one day-night cycle. They go on their separate ways after.

Aside from that, Light sirens prefer to be alone most of the time. They have their tight knit, tiny families on the rare occasion, usually when finlings (children) are involved, but as soon as a finling hits their first century, they’re typically encouraged to venture out to find their own story.

Some Light sirens follow a nomadic lifestyle, travelling from place to place, and some prefer a settled one, where they usually keep to a certain territory. They’ll welcome a visitor for a night, but that’s about it!

OKAY LONG RANT OVER (for now). ASK ME QUESTIONS IF YOU’RE CURIOUS? (I LOVE QUESTIONS.)

#light sirens #light sirens have a weird aging compared to the other sirens #they live much longer on average but #they age super quickly through their adolescence #then stay in their adulthood for a long while?#yeah #ANYWAYS I JUST FELT LIKE RANTING #as worldbuilding #anchored souls

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debiteful · 4 years

Note

For a request tiny prey mermaid/mermen being scooped and snatched up by a feral pelican or a pelican-like pred? Mouth pouches tho. Unwilling? Idk if you’d call it fearplay if it’s a feral pred that got hungry. Anyway thanks I like your writing :)

A pair of mermaids and one hungry pelican.

Content: implied fatal, soft vore, mouth pouch, bird pred, mermaid and merman prey, fear

Alice nestled closer to Nathan, her tail circled to fit against his. His strong arm was around her and they floated with their faces to the sky. Through the thin water above them, they could see a brilliant sky speckled with stars. They admired the cosmic glory above, pointing out constellations that they noticed.

They spent all night like that, close to one another and enjoying the view. Alice fell asleep at one point, but Nathan didn't mind terribly.

When the sun began to rise, they were both awake. The fiery orb cast stunning colours across the sky as it climbed above the horizon. The pair of merfolk admired it with glee.

However, their delight was cut short as shadows passed overhead. Some sort of flock was passing above. That could be incredibly dangerous for the little fishy people.

Before they could even begin to swim away, a bill plunged into the water and scooped them up! Alice screamed and Nathan rushed towards the light that was quickly shut out as the pelican closed its beak. This left them trapped in the water that filled the flexible mouth pouch which sagged as the bird soared through the air.

"Nate," Alice sobbed, "We have to get out!"

"You think I don't know that? You could at least try to be helpful," he snapped. He turned his attention back to where they were held and tried to swim at the upper portion of the beak. Alice watched, heart sinking as she saw him try and fail. She looked around, searching for some way out. She swam along the walls of the pouch, tiny hands pressing against and sinking into the tough skin as she tried to feel for any sort of escape. if anyone had been watching, they would have seen small hands push and trace along the entire circumference of that water-filled pouch.

Once she had made a whole circuit, her hope began to fade more quickly. She swam back to Nathan and hugged him. He was panting from all the charges at the tightly shut beak.

While she clung to him, the pelican landed on an eroded fencepost. The pouch portion of its beak was full of water and wobbled to and fro from the birds movement. It shifted its wings a little to get settled. Once satisfied, it tilted its head forward, draining out the water.

The merpeople within tumbled downward as water flowed from a small crack between the parts of the bill. They tried to swim in resistance, but that movement soon turned into frantic flopping around. Their tails beat against eachother as they scrambled to do anything except what they were doomed to experience.

Now they tumbled back along the almost bouncy pouch of the pelican's mouth, little imprints of them becoming briefly visible as they flailed and fell into its throat. A single swallow was all it took to bring them down. They would never again see the delightful vistas of the ocean or sky above, reduced to nothing more than bird food.

#soft vore #fatal vore #size difference #g/t vore #mermaid vore #bird pred #mouth pouch #pouch vore #fearplay #ish #in a way being ignored feeds into the fear #its like sterotypical horror movies #young couple alone gets murdered #cuz how dare they #debiteful writing

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katobobato · 3 years

Text

To Say Goodbye

➳ pairing: lee tamin x reader ➳ genre: angst, resurrection au, zombie au, a little fluff in there too ➳ warnings: body decay, blood and gore, witchcraft, death ➳ word count: 5158 ➳ rating: pg-15 ➳ prompt: It was halloween so if there was any time to try and resurrect your dead lover with an ancient incarnation, today was that day. ➳ event: halloween at kfn

It had been coming up for half a year since the incident. Almost half a year without him.

y/n had been coping well it seemed, at least, that's what she showed on the outside. She was composed and fearless, still in mourning but life carries on, even without him. On the inside, however, she was barely holding herself together, the threads of her soul slowly fraying and unwinding.

She was heartbroken, lost in a monochrome world completely void of all colour, all alone yet surrounded by many. She had her family and friends, but that wasn't enough because she didn't have him.

When they'd started dating a couple of years prior to the incident, he was the first man to truly make her smile. They laughed together, they had fun together and most of all, they were happy. They had started out as friends long before that, back in high school actually, but only dared to push their relationship further once they reached adulthood.

To describe how deep in love they were, just before the time of his passing, would be a difficult task. Think of the deepest depths of the ocean, the gap between heaven and hell, the length of space between the Earth and the moon. Even then, it would not be enough. To say they were soulmates would almost be an understatement.

There will never be another like him, there will never be another Lee Taemin. No one, in this life or the next, would even compare to him. He was the stars in her night sky. He was the moon that pulled the tides. He was the force of gravity keeping her on the ground.

She couldn't live without him. At least, not without saying a proper goodbye.

And so, y/n found herself wandering the streets of New Orleans, the place she had grown to call home, a home she had shared with him. If you had seen her strolling through the streets you wouldn't think she was searching for anything in particular. Just a girl walking down the street, with no goal in mind.

But there was something on her mind, the reason fuelling her outing, she was going to find a witch that could contact the dead.

y/n was never one to really believe in the witchcraft and voodoo that was said to have found it's home in New Orleans but after moving here for herself, she could feel it. The way something magical would flow down the streets, in the air between the buildings. It was everywhere, like a presence you couldn't see. At times, it felt like a warm home, the smell of fresh flowers on a sunny day. At others it felt more like an ominous presence, a pair of eyes watching your every move from where they were lurking in the darkness.

The so-called magic of New Orleans, if it truly was real, had her wondering if it was good or rather the work of demons. Before losing her lover to the claws of death, she would have heeded the warnings she had seen on tv and read in books. Now, however, so distraught with grief, she no longer cared.

By the time she stopped walking, her feet had brought her to a little shop hidden in the corner of a crooked backstreet. It seemed as though a wandering soul would miss it, never even noticing it was there, but y/n had felt a pull to it from the moment she stepped foot outside of her apartment. A shop that picked the customers perhaps, rather than the customers choosing the shop.

The windows were tinted, making it difficult to see the dark interior beyond. A sign outside displayed the name 'Lucifer's Wing - Magic Supplies' in a fancy, golden text. It looked old, from the decaying wooden window frames to the rusted door knob.

Although y/n hadn't gotten her hopes up, she reached out for that rusty door handle and sucked in a deep breath before turning it and heading inside.

Her nose involuntarily scrunched up at the unusual smell that flooded into it. It wasn't a particularly bad smell, nor was it particularly pleasant. It was simply strong, a very strong fragrance of which she had never quite smelt before.

Not only was the smell weird, but so was the rest of the shop. Shelves filled with old books, jars full of all kinds of abnormalities, not to mention all the unusual objects that were littered about on pretty much every kind of surface. An ugly, red and green rug, that was more brown and faded from old age, sat on the floor in front of the counter.

"Just grind up the newt tail and mix it with the raven beak. You should see improvements by tomorrow."

Two normal-looking New Orleanians were at that counter, their shoes further dirtying the dusty rug beneath them. They didn't even glance at y/n as they left the shop, taking their small package out with them as they discussed things about their unusual instructions from the shopkeeper.

When y/n finally got a good look at the woman behind the counter, she wasn't particularly surprised by her appearance at all. Not when the shop itself looked so, well, peculiar. Her hair was long and crimped, frizzing out a little bit too much. Her makeup was heavy, layer upon layer of eyeliner paired with dark eyeshadow and matte lips. She looked, well, if y/n didn't know any better, she'd say she looked like a witch.

"Now, what can I do for you?" Her voice was hoarse as she tilted her head, examining y/n with a hazy gaze.

"A grimoire perhaps? Or maybe a simple hex bag?"

y/n stepped forwards, approaching the woman to ask of her what it was she had come for, "Can you speak to the dead?"

The woman hummed and placed a slender finger to her chin, "Who could the young girl miss so dearly? Her mother? Her father? A friend taken too soon? Or perhaps... a lost lover?"

y/n nodded, her words now suddenly stuck in her throat.

"How did they die?" The woman inquired, leaning forward with a sudden peak of interest.

With an almost shaky breath, y/n replied, "He was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm going to need more to go on than that, pretty."

It hurt to think of it. It hurt to speak of it. It hurt to remember it.

"H- He went out one day and never came home. It was a robbery gone wrong. He tried to stop them and they shot him. They shot him to rob a fucking cash register."

Her emotion shot out like a whirlwind. You could hear the pain in her voice. How distraught she was to lose someone she loved for such a petty, pointless reason. Even she was surprised by her own words, she had sworn in front of a stranger. How rude. How unlike her.

"Please," Her voice was faint again, realising that she had lost her composure for but a moment, "I just want to say goodbye."

The shopkeeper smiled, although it was not a warming smile. Everything about it was cold, sinister even. As if she were amused by the tragedy that befell such a young couple.

"I can do you one better than that."

y/n watched as the woman turned around, rummaging through the shelves behind her as she searched for something. Something that, hopefully, was going to grant y/n that goodbye she wished for so dearly.

When she returned to the girl, the shopkeeper had an old parchment in hand. It looked ancient, so fragile that it would crumble away the moment she set it down. And yet, somehow, it remained intact.

"Take this. Speak the incantation over his grave at the witching hour on all hallows eve, when the veil between life and death is at it's thinnest. It will grant you what you wish for, maybe even more than that."

y/n took the paper, skimming her eyes over a language she only recognised as Latin before her eyes flickered back to the shopkeeper, "How much is it?"

"Free of charge, well, to me. You will pay your price when it is due, I only hope you will be prepared to pay it." The woman warned although y/n didn't take it as a serious threat.

"I'll pay whatever price, I just want to see him again. I just want to say goodbye." She held the parchment with great care and smiled, "Thank you."

With that, she was leaving the shop just as quickly as she had arrived. Taking a long, thoughtful stroll back to her apartment, their apartment.

Did she honestly think this incantation would work? No. Was she praying that she would be wrong? Yes.

It wouldn't work, there was no way it would, but she needed it to. Just a chance to say goodbye, that was all she wanted.

If only she knew what was to come.

y/n waited somewhat impatiently over the next few days but soon, all hallows eve was upon her. She had put a bowl of sweets outside, allowing any trick-or-treaters to help themselves as she would not be at home.

She knew she was going too early, she had to wait for the witching hour, after all. But she wanted to be with him. Just to sit with him for a while as she read the incantation over and over in her head to make sure that she would get it right when the time came.

Before long, the witching hour had arrived.

y/n stood up and placed a gentle hand on the tombstone. Her fingers ran over the engraving, 'Lee Taemin - Beloved Son and Cherished Friend'.

"It's now or never." y/n spoke to him, or perhaps herself, and took a couple of steps back.

With shaky hands, she held the parchment up in front of her and cleared her throat only to mutter under her breath, "Here goes."

"Hic en spiritum sed non incorpore evokare lemures de mortuis decretum espugnare de angelus balberith en inferno inremeablis."

Once she read the incantation, the wind seemed to blow, chilling her skin. She waited but nothing happened.

So, she read the incantation again and again as she prayed to see him one last time. All she wanted was to hear his voice, better yet to see his spirit before her. Just so that she could see him, hear him, one last time. Just to say goodbye.

But to no prevail.

"I knew it was fake. I was a fool to wish otherwise." y/n sighed, eyes already glassing over with tears.

In her hand, the parchment was crumpled to nothing, scattered pieces blowing off in the wind. It didn't work, it was never going to work. What was she thinking?

She fell to her knees, fingers digging into the soil that occupied the space over his grave, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to say goodbye. I love you, I love you so much."

As her tears dripped down, wetting the Earth with her sorrow, she finally said goodbye. She would always love him, always.

It was with a heavy heart that she headed home, leaving behind the dream of seeing her lover again. She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, tears staining the soft fabric beneath her. Exhaustion had taken its toll on her. Exhaustion from hoping, believing too much in the unknown. Exhaustion from grief and being alone.

A few hours passed, night relieved by the early morning.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

y/n sat up, stretching her tired limbs as another knock sounded at the door. Leaving the warmth of her bed and submitting herself to the cold, she began to head for the door.

"Don't those kids know that the time for trick-or-treating is over?" She sighed, reaching out to open the door and tell them to go home.

When the door opened, her entire world stopped spinning. Or, perhaps, it began to spin so fast that she had grown dizzy and begun to see things that were not truly there.

Dark brown eyes. That fluffy, dirty blonde hair she loved to run her fingers through. Eyebrow slits he thought looked edgy, but she just found cute. Every single inch of his face was so familiar, so new, something she felt she hadn't seen in years but could have also been something had seen just yesterday.

"y/n... I- I didn't know where else to go."

The moment he spoke, confirming that he was truly there, she threw her arms around him. Tears rolled down her cheeks, tears much different than the ones that came before. It wasn't what she had expected, to be reunited with her lover like this, but he was alive. He was with her again and that was all that mattered.

When y/n finally released him, she stepped back to look at him once again.

Dirt. Lots of dirt, he was covered in it. It was matted between his hair, smudged across his cheek, wedged under his fingernails. Had he climbed out of his own grave? But his body wasn't broken, wasn't decomposed. It was as if he were as good as new.

"Let's get you in a bath." She smiled, gently taking his hand in her own as she led him inside.

Once the bath was run, steam warming the previously frosty room, she left him to it whilst she prepared some clothes of his that she just hadn't had the strength to throw away before.

He sat there, absentmindedly scrubbing the dirt off of him, thinking about so many things.

I'm dead. I died. Didn't I? So why am I here now? Why am I alive again? Am I really alive again?

He had so many questions but ultimately, he was just glad to be back home. Back with her. Back with y/n.

"So, what do you remember?" She asked, rubbing his hair loosely with a towel.

"I..." Taemin sighed, "I remember dying. I died and then there was nothing, plunged into eternal darkness. Until I woke up in- in front of my grave."

y/n looked at him softly, putting the towel down to cup her hand around his face, "I didn't know what to do without you. I didn't know how to go on. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. That was all I wanted. This... to have you back is more than I could have ever hoped for."

She was crying again before she realised it. A steady stream of salty tears wetting her cheeks once again.

Although hesitantly, he reached up to touch her, gentle fingers ghosting over her face. He wiped her tears away and took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips for a tender kiss.

"How- How did you do this? How did you bring me back?"

He was so confused. He shouldn't be here, not that he didn't want to be. He wanted nothing more than to be by her side, to hold her in his arms, to kiss her softly and tell her everything was alright. But he didn't understand. He needed to understand.

"I found a shopkeeper... I think she was a witch. She gave me an old incantation and told me to read it over your grave at the witching hour on all hallows eve." y/n explained, her hand returning to his cheek, thumb stroking over it gently.

"It's Halloween? How long have I been gone for?"

She sighed and leaned forwards, resting her head against his shoulder, "Six months."

Instinctively, his hand went to her head, stroking it affectionately.

"I'm sorry," There was a pause as he leaned his head against her own, just wanting to be near her, "Sorry for leaving you."

y/n lifted her head, shaking it and looked at him with a smile, "Don't be. You're back now, that's what matters. It worked, the incantation actually worked."

The way his mouth curved so affectionately as he rubbed his head against her own slightly, much like a cat would to its owner, was so full of love. He may not have remembered anything of the afterlife, or perhaps there wasn't one to remember, but he felt as though he hadn't seen her for an eternity. He just wanted to treasure her, to love her, to hold her.

She reached for his hand, interlacing her fingers with his own.

"I love you," She said, "I love you so much."

He squeezed her hand as if to say; I'm here, I'm not leaving you again. With his other, he wiped the tears from her eyes, although soon the thumb that was drying her eyes was replaced by something else.

Each eye. He kissed under each eye, tasting the salty tears she had shed for him. He never wanted her to cry because of him again, he never wanted to leave her again.

Pulling her close to his chest, he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck. It really was real, he really was back with her.

A part of her feared that he would be gone come sunrise. This was too good to be true. Was he really back for good? Was his soul truly intact? For now, she didn't care. She just needed him. She needed him almost as much as he needed her.

"I love you." She said again, pulling away to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I love you too." His words were pure, romantic, gentle even. He was just glad to be back with her, back by her side.

They were soulmates, or maybe something more. Two souls, two hearts, two bodies, completely intertwined.

By the time morning came, he was still by her side. She smiled, hand smoothing over his chest as she looked up at him. His stomach raised and then, it fell. He was breathing, he was alive, he was with her once again. Not a spirit, not a monster, not a figment of her imagination, but flesh and blood.

He looked so peaceful, so angelic as he slept beside her. The sun crept in through the blinds, giving his features an almost golden glow. Maybe he was just that, an angel brought back to Earth in order to reunite with his lover once again. Maybe, if there was a God, they had sent him back to her.

Taemin's eyes soon fluttered open, his eyes rolling over the curves of her body that hid beneath the covers. He smiled and began to delicately run his fingers up and down her bare shoulder.

"Morning." His voice was groggy, full of sleep and love.

A warm smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, "I've missed this."

They spent all morning in bed, lying by each other's sides. Pillow talk and tangled legs.

By lunch, however, rumbling stomachs finally pulled them from their bed.

"Pancakes?" Taemin opened the fridge to collect the eggs and milk.

y/n was already looking in the cupboard, pulling out a bowl before searching the drawers for a whisk, "Already one step ahead."

Cooking was always an adventure when it came to the two of them, especially when it could easily get messy. Flour covered every surface, including their own hands and faces. They giggled, laughing together as they finally began flipping the pancakes.

Eating lunch was as fun as making it. Giggles and whispers of love as they smiled oh-so warmly at each other across the table.

By the time it began to grow dark outside, they were lying on the sofa watching a movie. It was one of their favourites, one they'd watched so many times together. y/n thought she'd never get to watch it with him again but here she was, lying in his arms, completely content as they quietly watched the movie.

Neither of them was truly paying attention to the film. Both of them were far too focused on each other. The way it felt to be so close, feeling the warmth of each other's body heat seep through the clothes that separated them. He loved this, the feeling of holding her in his arms again. She too was the happiest she'd ever been. She thought she'd lost him forever but they had been granted another chance. A miracle perhaps.

Or maybe... something a little more sinister.

A couple more days had passed and everything seemed well. They had been on a date in the park, his first time outside since coming back. The two of them had talked about how they would tell others that he was alive. How they'd explain it to everyone. He wanted to see his parents so dearly. Both knew that this might not be the best idea, however. They would freak out, they wouldn't understand. He had died, they all knew that. They, although distraught, had made peace with it. If he was to see them, he needed an explanation that didn't sound ridiculous or simply scare them away.

Their date had gone well. They had had fun together, walking around, taking in the fresh air. It was a good day. It was only when they returned home, later in the day, that Taemin began to feel that something was wrong.

"You okay?" y/n asked, noticing the way his eyes seemed somewhat sunken.

With a smile, he nodded, "Yeah, just tired."

It was a lie. A lie he almost believed himself. A lie he so desperately needed to believe was true because he didn't want something to be wrong. Instead of worrying about it, or worrying her about it, he hid it. He ignored it.

They bathed together that night. Both soaking in the bath until they went pruney. y/n rested her head against his chest, smiling as he softly ran the tips of his fingers along her arms.

"I've missed this. I've missed you." She sighed, taking his hand in her own.

He hummed against her hair, pressing a loving kiss against her head, "I missed you too."

He truly did miss her, even if he had no perception of how much time it had been since he last saw her before he died. Perhaps time simply wasn't a thing after death and that was why it had felt like so long but also only hours at the same time. Six months. She was without him for six months, and he was without her. For her, it was agonising. For him, well, he only noticed how much he missed her once he came back.

He held her close that night, smiling as she slept quietly in his arms, for he was beginning to feel as though he might lose her again. He knew she couldn't bear the thought of it happening all over again, watching helplessly as he was taken from her again but, as the sun set far below their feet, the cloudy night sky now overhead, he began to feel as though it was going to happen again. It was going to happen again and much sooner than they had wished for.

He kept that feeling, that knowing, from her for days. Everything was normal, even as his eyes began to look more sunken than usual. I'm just tired, he would tell her. She, like a fool, believed him.

It was his idea to try out a new recipe, a recipe his mother used to make for him. They had always liked to cook together, always treasured that time with each other. They were having fun, reading through the recipe on her phone. He stood behind her, head on her shoulder, hands holding hers as they mixed the ingredients in the wok.

Stir-fried Korean beef, a recipe from his home. He already knew how to make it but pretended not to so that he could learn again, with her. A meal to remember him by, a meal to enjoy. He didn't want to leave a sour taste in her mouth. He wanted to leave behind a pleasant taste, a lingering goodness that she could enjoy. If she liked the meal, that was.

"It's so good!" She grinned from ear to ear, devouring the delicious food they had created together.

He felt his lips curl upwards slightly, smiling so gently. It was a sad smile.

"You'll have to try out new things when I'm no longer around." It was a mumble, but she still heard it.

y/n dropped her food and tilted her head, confused, "What do you mean? You've only just come back, you're not going anywhere."

He avoided her eyes, watching them search his face as if trying to decipher what he was staying, and moulded his face into a reassuring smile, "So, after dinner, I was thinking we could go for a walk?"

She knew he was avoiding the question but didn't press on the matter. A part of her didn't want to know. She didn't want to know what he meant by that, what he was trying to say. Although, she couldn't stop the feeling of unease that had settled into the very core of her bones, shaking through her like waves of nausea.

A few more days passed and he left her during the night, droopy body heading for the bathroom. He turned the tap on, hoping the steady stream of water would ground him, and looked into the mirror. His face was pale, almost deathly so. Any rose he had in his cheeks seemed to have been painted over. His eyes were sunken, dark circles surrounding them. Dry skin, chapped lips, no colour. He looked like a walking corpse, or perhaps simply someone who was rather unwell.

y/n had noticed it. She hadn't said anything out of fear. If she acknowledged it, asked about it, she feared it would truly become real. Something was wrong, very wrong. Taemin knew it, y/n knew it. She was scared to ask, he was scared to tell her. He didn't want to see her in pain again, he couldn't watch it happen again.

Fingertips ran along his protruding cheekbone until it reached that dark skin under his eye. His nail looked black around the edges and, with a sleepy curiosity, he pulled at it with his other hand. It was such a light, delicate movement. And yet, the nail slipped so easily from his body, coming off with a trail of goo. A mix of blood and God knows what else.

He closed his eyes, focusing once again on the running water. It was calming, peaceful. The darkness that surrounded him, the lack of anything. It was pleasant, it was familiar. It was death.

Before he had realised it, he had already adapted to the life after death. It wasn't the same as life on Earth, it was different, empty. It wasn't, however, in any way bad. He couldn't remember much but he knew he felt at peace. He had made his peace with it, she had not. The living didn't know how to let go but the dead... the dead had already moved on.

She called him back. She forced him back. He wanted to see her, he was so glad that they had just a little more time together but that time was quickly running out. He only released it then, as he opened his eyes and looked down at his nail-less finger, tugging ever so gently on the limb until it broke free from his body and fell down into the sink. The stream of water fell down onto it, claiming it as death had already claimed him.

There was no pain and very little blood. He was already dead, he was never truly alive again. His time had passed and he had made peace with that. She hadn't, y/n hadn't.

"W-What's-"

She was in the doorway not long after feeling the chilling cold beside her in bed. She almost asked, she almost confirmed it. But, when she saw her lover, his body slowing starting to break down, it was too late. It was real.

"I can't stay much longer." Taemin sighed, finally understanding what was happening to him, to them.

He wasn't sad. He had had time to see her again, to say goodbye. That was what she wanted, wasn't it? A chance to say goodbye.

The witch had never said the incantation was permanent, nor had she ever said it would bring him back to life. He wasn't here to stay, he was here to help her move on. Truly a dead man walking.

y/n felt like she was suffocating, it was as if the whole world was crumbling down around her. It was raining, distorting the painting before her. He was alive, he was with her again. The painting had lied and now, those lies were washing away.

"Don't cry." He stepped forwards, wiping away the tears she hadn't even realised had started to fall.

Her world was crumbling. Her life, his life, fading away.

"It's okay, y/n. It's okay. I'm here, I'll always be here."

She couldn't listen, she didn't want to listen. She didn't want to hear this, to hear his goodbye. She wasn't ready... she'd only just gotten him back.

"I- I- I can't-" Her voice was strangled, hands balling into his shirt, "I can't lose you again." She held on tight, too afraid to let go, "I- I'll go with you, I'll die with you-"

He sighed and pulled her to his chest, feeling her warmth for one last time as he cradled her head in his hands, "You can't. You have to live on."

She cried harder, holding onto him even tighter than before.

"You don't need to worry. You must live in the present and remember me when I'm gone. Until the day comes when I must leave you again, treasure these last few days we have together but, when it's over, I need you to move on. Live a wonderful life, live a happy life. For me, for your friends, for your family. Fall in love again, have children and grandchildren. Teach them how to cook, make pancakes with them. Just... be happy."

He wasn't going to leave her that day. He might not even leave her the next, but the day was coming. The day he would have to leave again, to go back.

"I love you." He whispered into her hair, a memory she would treasure.

He loved her and she loved him. They always would, but time moves on, people move on, and she would too.

Tears streaked down her face, a steady stream mimicking the running tap, "I love you too... So much."

#halloweenatkfn #kpopficsnetwork #bangtanidx #btswriterscollective #lee taemin #taemin angst #taemin x reader #taemin x you

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sneakerdoodle · 4 years

Text

Soothsayers

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- Do your teeth not hurt?

Curiosity was natural to 'Atter like hunger to the living. While others breathed air, they sucked the word in through gritted fangs, caught it in the nets of sharp-tipped ears, plunged their darting eyes into its fluttering flesh and drank, sounds, sights, smells breaking into molecules of tiny truths on their tongue. And now, the sharp dark dots were buried into Lo-O's looming figure, following every swaying movement of its centuries' old body as 'Atter nimbly threw their frame from branch to branch. Darting left and right, up and down, never in the same place - but eyes always piercing the same spot on the unmoving face of their peculiar companion.

'Atter was no vampire, though, no greedy parasite. They spat the gained truths right back out in handfuls, broken out of their shells, cleaned and sharpened between 'Atter's glinting teeth. Slicing through the air, aiming straight for the bone.

And so the truths rained, a shower of sparks springing off of the clanging flint of 'Atter's grin.

-They don't, but your flesh will later, won't it? The Mother let your teeth sink into it. Comfortable burrows, warm. But once it is time to open, you will curse Her.

Unperturbed, Lo-O took another heavy step – an exhale of a mountain, a foaming sigh of the ocean. 'Atter kept fluttering around it, branch to branch, but that was a redundant instinct. Lo-O was one of the Old. It was the Middle Children who hated 'Atter's song and answered with a chorus of stones and steel and sharpened bone.

And yet, they felt the familiar sweet sizzling in their chest as they surrounded Lo-O from all sides, spitting truths it already knew. Teasing and taunting was not natural to 'Atter like curiosity was; it grew over time, when it became clear the Middle ones would always resent their craft. 'Atter could not be hurt by rejection: The Primate Mother had not given them a heart big enough for aching. So 'Atter became entertained.

Lo-O took the pattering truths in with every inhale it buried in its chest with no release, each preceding the next swaying step, its entire body – a slow titanic wave of sluggish northern waters.

- You will curse her, and you will hate your long and miserable life as hot live blood finally fills your long-shut mouth.

'Atter lingered on one of the branches, swinging back and forth on their arm, tasting another truth on their long thin sting-tongue, rubbing their teeth together, warming them up before the flints strike each other once again, showering hot sparks into the world.

-I envy you.

No reply from the great and ancient ape, no darting eye, no bitter chuckle. Only the tight silence after each rustling inhale, waiting for its time.

Swing and leap – tiny claws clasping the next jointed branch, bark crumbling underneath them. 'Atter sensed the tree's undoing under their paws: pests would whittle it down by the end of the cycle, bore so deep into its hard flesh no hungry beak could bring it relief. And so they spoke their truth, already leaving the doomed giant behind.

-This tree will know an itch as deep as marrow.

Silence hurt – unlike the heart, 'Atter's body knew pain intimately, which is why, undying, they still preferred to avoid the angry bites of rejection. Silence hurt their mouth: a hot, gnawing toothache. Silence hurt their insides, with their incessant need to filter the world, in and out. So filter they did, their song uninterrupted. But there was something akin to silence in dropping handfuls of words that Lo-O had no need for: not about it, not about them. And 'Atter could only think to themselves for so long before they clanked:

- You must be scaring me. I do not want to tell you about you.

Lo-O shifted its eyes, only slightly, to take 'Atter's bare face in, before putting its mounting weight forward, sinking into its own shoulder once again, the bouldering fist – the foot of the hill. Its eyes were filled with grief to the very brim, and it moved and lapped with Lo-O's body, with no hope of ever spilling.

'Atter felt a bubbling rise in their chest; a pocket of air trapped under thick marshy sludge, trudging its way to the surface. They tried to push it down - although, no doubt, Lo-O already knew.

'Atter was familiarizing themselves with a new feeling: burning, scorching, making them fold into themselves, hide their limbs, hide their face.They felt smaller. Inferior. All of a sudden, they wanted to keep things secret for the first time in their life. To be a walking ocean, fangs wedged perfectly between each other, as if created for their own eternal embrace. Immaculate silence. Something complete in itself.

But the bubbles kept rising: a throbbing tickle in their chest, then throat, until finally one pushed itself against their lips, forcing them open with its perfect beady shape:

-I am not actually leading you. - 'Atter watched one pathetic truth escape their mouth, then another. - I'm the one following.

A shallow chest for shallow secrets. That was all that the Mother had given them. A body one claw deep could not carry a truth too great, nor hide it for too long.

-I envy you, - they pattered once again, the dance of their limbs between the trees more frantic, their voice sharper around the edges. For the first time, 'Atter understood the bitter resentment of the Middle ones. For the first time, truths burned their skin where the sparks had landed.

Lo-O knew the way. Past the young trees at the edges of the jungle, heirs to their fallen fathers. Paying no mind to trodden paths growing narrower, paler. Leaving the snares weaving through the thick grass far behind in its heavy, waving journey into the deepest cove of the wild. There, where no other primate could hear, waited the cradle of the winds, the heart of the rivers. Its final long-awaited resting place.

'Atter knew the jungle well. But the familiar jungle would burst with a symphony of drizzling words, their siblings coming together and singing the truth of the world around them. Countless versions of the same verse, a rhythm shared between hundreds of buzzing throats.

'Atter never went where no one could hear. Their truths held no danger for the living, despite what the jerky Middle Children had decided among themselves.

As the woods grew quieter around them, 'Atter found their exhales falling hollow into the dead air. Coals losing their heat before impact, their fires fading fast in the still thick atmosphere.The new, prickly, lessening feeling burrowed deeper into their chest,pushed their voice to the very top of their throat, turning it into a shrill. Lo-O did not seem to notice; or maybe it had foreseen that.Or simply did not care. There was a sense of destination carved into the low sharp edges of its mouth that would soon move for the first time since the Mother's claw had given it shape. And Lo-O was moving toward that destination in determined obedience, wave after heaving wave.

They reached it, at last. The heart, the cradle. The perfect circle of a lake, fed by underground currents. The solitary patch of ground, surrounded by cycling waters. The immense tree. The bright and gaping crack in the middle of it, a forever-still flash of lightning caught and captured between two splintering halves. The Great Stem stood before them, wide open.

Fierce winds danced and whirled in its crevice, howling and whistling, ready to scatter, to sweep through the lands to reach all four corners of them. The waters swirled, ready to rise, to spill into the lowland. The world was waiting for Lo-O's exhale.

Lo-O reached for a low-hanging branch of the great tree, carried its body along it, hand over hand, cautious of the unquiet waters below. The tree sighed under its weight, but endured, granting its soothsayer a passage to the heart of the isle.

'Atter's feet touched the ground at the edge of the waters. Another humiliation: so small and insignificant was their frame once it was not moving swiftly, elusively, through the weave of the jungle. They took a few steps forward, small and unsure, curling their useless claws at their chest. The chest where bubbling was rising once again, pushing against their hollow rib cage. 'Atter tried to quell it, all over - out of a feeling entirely new. A deep acknowledgement, a silent humble gaze. A reverence. 'Atter felt open like a clam, moving their insides apart, making space for the mournful alien glory of Lo-O's decline. There was no space for their wants in that reverence.

And yet, the truths foamed just behind their teeth, bursting out of their mouth, too familiar and natural to keep at bay.

-I wish to stay and listen.

The Stem did not sigh under 'Atter's weight, the waters did not lap at them. They sat on the sacred isle, unnoticed by it. A speck of the world receiving its gifts. Unable to serve the cycling dance at the heart of the jungle. There only to watch, in unnatural silence, as Lo-O fit the wavering mountain of its body among the bulging, curving roots.

It took its eyes to the sky, to the clouds curling into rings overhead. It let its shoulders fall, its tight fingers loosen. The ocean in its eyes laved against the glassy vessel one last time.

Lo-O opened its mouth, slowly. Sharp teeth rising, tearing through the flesh, painted red by it as its last farewell. Long sharp blades sliding out of each other's grip smoothly, effortlessly. Lo-O did not whimper, did not cry. But as blood filled its mouth, rained down its chin, it looked to the sky again, clouds reflecting in its unshed tears, the deep-running ocean closer to spilling than it had ever been before.

Lo-O drew the world in through the gaps between its fangs, eyelids lowering, fluttering. For a moment, everything stilled. The great ancient ape drank reality in full, holding the passing second in its deep chest, dragging all life with it out of the flow of time.

Then, it exhaled.

To start, it borrowed the sigh of the great tree, old as creation. As truth started rising from within to escape Lo-O's body, it sighed deeply, letting go of the slithering jolting pain hot in its mouth, of the long, silent life it had lived. It seemed the ancient trunk behind it had opened once again, releasing the long-held breath of time.

And although soon the sound had started to die down, the breath continued, too deep to be exhausted by a single relieving lamentation. Heavy heat climbed up Lo-O's insides. Thick suffocating smoke packed its chest, swirled up its windpipe, crawled into its mouth, came tumbling out in slow grave waves. This was what the world had been waiting for.

Smoke flowed down Lo-O's chin and onto the ground, wreathed through the grass, enveloping lonesome gentle blooms. It slipped into the circling waters. It moved in low-hanging clots, some drowning, some drifting on the rising waves, crossing the lake to the land beyond it. The waters rose, bubbling, boiled over, carrying the smoke down with them, to spill into four rivers that would reach all corners of their old, old land. Winds burst out of the crevice, dressing into heavy dark wisps, pushed through the rustling crowns in their chase to the ends of the earth.

'Atter did not hear the crashing waters, the whistling gusts. The smoke, twisting, twirling around them, climbing up thin limbs, packed their ears full and tight. It slipped into their mouth and burned their insides, tightening their throat. Poisonous and suffocating, it filled every corner of their being.

There was a thought of fire crackling in it, but only enough to burn air out of the living things' lungs, shallow truths out of 'Atter's hollow chest.

The dark clouds kept tumbling down out of Lo-O's maw, agape and no longer bleeding. They became the dark waters, blending with rushing streams. They hid in the winds, their whispers carried far. They hung around Lo-O and 'Atter, thick as the deepest reeds. They clawed at 'Atter's eyes. There was nothing but the swirling, burning darkness wherever they turned their gaze.

That's when Lo-O began to speak.

In the twisting clouds around them, 'Atter saw the terrifying deaths and births of unknowable stars. They felt the edges of the galaxy at their fingertips. They sensed the shifts in earth, deep below, dormant, an echo of the future. They knew the boiling heat of the world's core. They knew the cold that would come when it ceased. They knew the deadly breath of a bursting sun, surging through them, turning their bones to ash. They knew the grand life of slowly eroding mountains; they knew the fleeting fate of pawprints in the sand. They knew the thunderous breath of ancient sleeping giants and the small-voiced hour of the meek. 'Atter knew the nothing in between the everything, the sucking gaping hollow, the endless fall between the building stones of reality. They knew the why and the how and the varied spaces and scales mocking each other, fit in one. Life at large, life in the tiniest morsel. Life beyond both of those, as much as it was within. In the shapes of suffocating darkness, in the deep tumbling flowing voice of the great ape, 'Atter watched the infinite truths that would not linger to fit in their shallow chest. The truths were moving through them, 'Atter's body – an open gate, a temporary frame, the world - an unending wave on its course through the mind of a meager soothsayer whose craft was the span of a singular life.

Their mouth moved still, out of habit, in futile attempts to filter, to give voice to the forceful life pulsing ceaselessly through their chest. But the bubbles burst on their lips in a powerless sputter. 'Atter sat in the eye of an intoxicating storm, eyes wide open and burning, mouth moving helplessly under the endless flow of secrets of creation.

Lo-O's ocean flowed and emptied itself into rivers and ponds across the land, carried by the streams pushed further and further out of the now beating heart of the jungle. Its pain subsided. With the unfathomable truths of many centuries leaving its body, Lo-O felt lighter than it had ever been allowed. Its life had stood still in its veins, cold and heavy, waving but never spilling a drop. An isolated basin, its waters seized and unmoving, never feeding other lakes, never replenished by rushing rivers. Now, it was leaving Lo-O's body freely, and forever. Lo-O let it, swaying on the soothing waves, floating further and further away from the piercing divine mind it had been gifted with. Its eyes were turned to the sky, past the dark swirling cover, towards the striking, calming blues. The corners of Lo-O's mouth moved – for the first time since creation – to give shape to the weightless bliss of an emptying vessel.

The last cloud of smoke escaped its tired chest. The ancient body fell into the rough and loving embrace of tangling roots.

***

'Atter grasped a handful of rough weeds, their first tightening around the crumpling leaves. These pitiful flowering weeds, somehow untouched by the smoke that had burnt all 'Atter's little secrets out of their being, leaving them empty and aching. These flowers, unperturbed by the suffocating clouds that had rolled over them.

The truths Lo-O exhaled in their wane seeped into the soil, were carried into the oceans by running rivers, scattered across the sky by rushing winds. Those were the truths the world had been born out of. The truths it carried at its core. The lowly weeds held them in their stems. Ancient secrets were coursing through their simple, finite bodies. And 'Attter, a soothsayer, who knew which bug will be this weed's undoing, could not keep those secrets on their tongue long enough to remember the taste. Words would die on their lips. To say one thing without all of the rest was nothing; to say all of them a tonce, they would need a mightier chest.

'Atter pulled harder, thin stems breaking in their fist. They pulled, unforgiving, baring the deep thick root. They will swallow the bitterest of roots, their juices running strong and heavy in 'Atter's veins. Their heart will grow aching, it will weigh them down. They will walk the earth on their knuckles, they will keep their truths to themselves. There will be lapping oceans at the bottom of their eyes.

Or, if the roots refuse to give them their wisdom, 'Atter will drink the deadly waters of deep oceans. They will partake of the burning salt, of the crushing weight.

They will climb the highest mountains to where there is no longer air. They will fill their being with nothing, and they will remember what it was like to be everything.

They will beg the Primate Mother. She gave Lo-O its shape, She can put her claw to 'Atter's feeble form. She can make them new, reborn. She can dig deep into their chest, carve out enough space for the world to fit in.

As they crumpled the weak, all-knowing flower in their grasp, tore the thin rough leaves to shreds, 'Atter knew none of these were going to come true.

They looked over their shoulder, at the limp, hollow form that was once so monumental in its swaying march through the thicket. Lo-O's face was marked deep by its final, unchanging content. Circling waters brushed gently against its fingers, lowered into the stream when its palm had fallen powerlessly onto the ground and unfurled forever.

'Atter spoke their shallow truths, resenting them for how soon they would be lost in the abysmal flow of time.

-I envy you. I envy you. I envy you.

They fell asleep on the sacred soil, open to the winds, their meager body curled into itself, trembling. They dreamt of the swift spring breezes filling Middle Children's lungs with tingling subtle truths. They dreamt of the farthest rushing streams carrying whispers and hints of the great unbearable ocean. They dreamt of lakes and rivers of their younger siblings' lives, springing from sea to sea, nourished by pattering rains. They dreamt of the life of recollecting, of endless oblivious search. Of finding echoes of the great ancient heartbeat in the tiniest pulsations of life under one's fingertips.

They slept, decades upon decades rolling by, lulled by the sweet and heavy smells of uprooted sacred weeds. And in their sleep, unaware, they envied their middle siblings much, much deeper than they did the life of Lo-O, with its single, drawn-out breath.

#read my words maybe 👀#original writing #spilled ink #short story #my writing

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