#bright eyes below black skies

[nevernonline]

✧.* change my mind; kmg

you were an enigma. mingyu knew you to be not afraid of anything, except for falling in love.

✩ pairing: mingyu x afab! reader

✩ genre/s: fwb! to lovers, fluff,

✩ word count: 2.0k

✩ warning/s: mentions of partying, swearing, suggestive themes, oral, punches, mingyu takes a tumble, kissing, reader has breasts, mingyu is down bad.

✩ notes/s: inspired by she's not afraid by one direction, lolol. enjoy! ☘️

Mingyu just couldn’t figure you out, for the first time in two years of knowing you he saw fear in your eyes all because he whispered three little words to you. 

He had heard all of your childhood and teenage crazy stories about making fake ids, bungee jumping, traveling all around the world during your gap year. He knows you can watch scary movies and often fall asleep to serial killer documentaries, but why wouldn’t you let him love you? 

The first time he said it, he was just protecting you or so he thought from an ex-boyfriend who showed up to the party you were attending, trying to pick a fight and begging you to take him back. Mingyu showed up to your side without a shadow of a doubt he would scare the boy away, but you just punched your ex square in the face as he called you a bitch and walked off like nothing had happened. 

After the punch you just rode in the car back to your house without saying a word. He was holding your now bruised hand softly resting a bottle of cold water across your knuckles. 

When you made it back inside your adrenaline kicked in and you started to strip Mingyu of his clothes all the way down to his black boxer-briefs below. He was basically an outlet for you to get out your rage over your shitty ex-boyfriend, but he didn’t mind being used by you. 

Maybe he said it at the wrong moment? A girl going down on you isn’t exactly the time to tell her that you’re in love with her. He thought maybe you didn’t hear him or misunderstood because you were focused on satisfying the craving of having him be putty in your hands, so he never brought it up again. Well, except when he finished all over your pretty face. 

The second time he said it, it was a cold winter day. You both decided it would be a good idea to go snowboarding. You were taking Mingyu up the ski lift for his first pass down the mountain, your eyes were filled with sparkles from the reflection of the snow, he couldn’t forget how pretty it made you look. Your pink nose and rosy cheeks were just begging for him to plant kisses on. 

You told Mingyu to go to the far left trail, the easiest and to not turn before the big pine tree, but he was so distracted by looking at you he did exactly the opposite of what you said and took a swerve right onto the black diamond.

 You ended up going the right way, watching his body attempt to swerve over the bumps and fresh powdered ground through the trees. Until you couldn’t see him anymore. A panic suddenly waved over both of you not being able to help him if something went wrong in the woods. The train was much quicker down the hill and the small skinny weaving through trees made him vulnerable if he fell to being hit by other boarders or skiers. 

You finally hit the bottom and clicked your board off trekking back up the hill by foot. 

Nearly halfway down you spotted a bright yellow and black coat huddled to the side of the tree brush and ran over to him. He seemed okay, but was clearly shaken up by almost getting hit by other riders. 

“Oh my god. You’re such an idiot, I thought you were hurt. Did you not hear my instructions” 

“I did, but I was distracted watching you on the lift so I forgot.” 

“Mingyu, you dumbass. I wouldn't have forgiven myself if something happened to you.” 

Your fingers touched the small cut on his cheek probably from his goggles or a loose branch. You brought your arms so tightly around his shoulders that he whimpered because of his now sore body. 

After picking up his gear that had been scattered around from his fall, you helped him back onto his feet and insisted that you bring him home to have a warm bath and clean up his new wound. 

Sitting in the bathtub, bruises scattered all the way around his tanned skin, he watched you set up a movie on your computer. You were surprisingly caring, he didn’t think you had a side to you like this. 

The both of you sat in his candle lit bathroom, him in the hot water of his tub and you in his tee shirt on his marbled floor, both sipping glasses of red wine, just enjoying the scenes playing out in front of you. 

Suddenly his hands came onto your shoulders, rubbing them in motions that relaxed your tense muscles. 

“You look cold, come in.” 

“No, you’re too tall for two people to fit in your bathtub, Gyu.” 

“You’re small enough to fit, come on.” 

“Okay, don’t look.” 

“I’ve seen you naked before.” 

“Just, please don’t look, for some reason getting into the tub infront of you is embarrassing me.” 

“Okay, I won't.” 

With his hands now placed over his eyes, he felt your legs slide against his, and felt you tap against his side with your feet, telling him it’s fine now. 

“No, not like that. Turn around, back towards me.” 

“Mingyu, this is silly, I'm comfortable.” 

“Do it or I’ll make you.” 

“Oh my god fine, cover your eyes.” 

Your butt slid back into the hot water, now resting between his legs. You could feel your cheeks starting to hear up as you rest your bare back against his chest. 

“Better?” 

“Mhm, much better.” 

Mingyu’s hands came up and grabbed your hair, wrapping it up in the claw clip you had resting on the floor and began massaging your neck once more, placing soft kisses on your shoulders. Mingyu now slid his long fingers over your nipples, making your head rest back against him and letting out a soft moan from your lips. 

“Thank you for taking care of me today, it means a lot to me.” 

“Well it’s sort of my fault you got hurt isn’t it?” 

“No, not at all actually. I shouldn’t have let myself get distracted by how pretty you are.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Not happening, pretty girls have to be told every once and a while they’re pretty.” 

“Okay, what about pretty boys?” 

“Mhm, they deserve it too.” 

“Well then, I think you’re very pretty.” 

“Thank you, I love hearing you say that.” 

Time passed that night between being sweet in the tub to now huddling in front of Mingyu’s fireplace, still wrapped in each other's arms, clinging to his warmth. 

“Are you ready for bed, y/n?” 

You were already asleep in his arms, suddenly those same arms were picking you up off the floor and placing you under his warm covers, sliding in next to you. 

With a kiss on your forehead, you woke up still half in your slumber and placed a longer kiss on his lips. 

“Goodnight, pretty Gyu.” 

Mingyu couldn’t contain his smile as he looked at your eyes closed while resting on his pillow. 

“Goodnight, pretty girl. I love you.” 

Mingyu couldn’t help himself from realizing he was saying the thing he wanted so badly in the worst moments, but maybe it was a sign he was saving himself from being hurt if you didn’t love him back. 

After the night you had over a week ago where he muttered those words the second time he  made a promise to himself that the next time he said it, it would be worth it. 

Mingyu knew tonight was to tell you properly, you were on your way to celebrate a mutual friend's birthday. 

He pulled up to your house, letting himself inside. He found you standing in your bra and underwear in front of your closet contemplating what to wear. The theme was black and red, you had a little black dress, a red low cut tank top, and a pair of black cargo pants laid out on your bed, weighing the options. 

“Holy shit. You scared the fuck out of me.” 

Mingyu tried to hold in his laughter as he rested his butt on the side of your bed, holding up the red top and black pants, similar to the outfit he was sporting. 

“Wear this, it’s nice. And you always complain when you wear dresses.” 

“You’re right, but what shoes do I wear? Black heels, sneakers, or boots?” 

“I like the boots I bought you last year, they’d look pretty under the jeans. And you can be closer to my lips when you get drunk and try to kiss me later. Easier access.” 

“Shut up, you’re so gross. I do not do that.” 

“Well, your clingy drunk ass says otherwise.” 

You ripped the red shirt from his hands and pulled it over your head swiftly as you took your bra off from under it and shimmied into your black pants. 

“Okay, well let’s bet. I’ll wear my sneakers, if I try to kiss you and complain that you’re too tall I’ll reward you with whatever you want” 

“Alright, but prepare to be crushed.” 

Hours passed by at the party, as your buzz grew stronger like your desire to have your red lipstick stained all over Mingyu. He was off talking to some girl at the bar, trying to order you drinks. You were sitting all the way across the room at your table watching her as she rubbed her pink fingernails up and down his arm, while he just smiled. 

Was he trying to make you jealous on purpose so you’d come over and kiss him? Did he even care that this girl was flirting with him because he was there with you? Who knows what he’s thinking. Before he departed she placed a small kiss on his cheek and handed him a napkin, probably with her number on it. 

“Who the fuck was she?” 

Your jealousy brought a small smile on Mingyu’s lips as he slid onto the black vinyl of the booth back next to you, hitting your knees with his. 

“Jealous?” 

“No, just answer the question. She got her ugly pink lipgloss on your cheek.” 

The lip stain that was supposed to be from you, the green monster of your jealousy weighing over you now as you brought your thumb to the spot she kissed him and wiped it away a little aggressively. 

“Not sure, she gave me her number though.” 

He flashed the napkin in front of your face, making you even more angry. 

“Call her, I’m going home okay?” 

“No, why are you leaving? I don’t want to call her I was just fucking with you.” 

“Will you stop then?” 

“Of course, just tell me what's up with you tonight? You’re acting weird, girls do that all the time, you’ve never cared before in fact most of the time you think it’s funny. I thought you knew I didn’t want any of them, so it didn’t bother you?” 

“Well it is bothering me now, she was touching you and she kissed you. Most girls just hand it and go on their way, but this was like right in my face? Does she not see us here together?” 

“Maybe? But, we’re not together like that are we? I’ve told you many times I love you and you always ignore me.” 

“I don’t know? I do love you, okay? I love you, Mingyu. I’m also terrified of loving you, because if I fucking lose you I’m not going to be okay. If I have to sit around and watch girls have their hands on you forever like that I just am not sure if I’ll be able to handle myself.” 

“You love me?” 

“Yes, you big dumb idiot. Can’t you fucking tell?” 

“No, but it’s nice to hear you finally say it.” 

“Can we leave now please? I think I need to show you how much I love you at home.” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

Mingyu took you home, back to the place where he first realized he loved you and let you prove it to him all night.

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[yeoja-dream]

Found/Fated/Forever

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: BTS OT7 x Reader Genre: Fantasy, eventual smut, porn with plot, slow burn, hurt/comfort Characters: Supernatural!BTS, Vampire!Jungkook, Supernatural!Reader Content Warning: Y/N in danger Word Count: 3.6k

Jungkook’s vision went white and he felt the air pulled out of his lungs as in a flash, he was again in the hospital room, Namjoon hovered worryingly over your body. He looked up as you arrived, obvious relief relaxing his features as his eyes landed on Baba Yena. 

“Baba Yena,” Namjoon greeted with a bow. “I was only able to do a cursory search, but her kind isn’t listed or documented in any infernal records I was able to get my hands on.” 

“Of course, because she is not from the hells, my child.” Baba Yena said, walking to your bedside, and shooing him away. “She is indeed a rare sight to behold, but you will have to ask her about her heritage, she has taken considerable lengths to conceal it.” 

“So you will save her?” Namjoon asked, hopeful. 

“Yes, horned one. Your mate has sacrificed sufficiently, and this child has suffered greatly as it is. It is not yet her time to die.” Baba Yena said, beginning to pull several black, oily drawing implements as well as a bottle of bright blue, glowing liquid. 

Without much regard for the others standing in the room, Baba Yena began unceremoniously undressing your body, causing both the men in the room to turn their gaze elsewhere. Perhaps in a different time or context, it would be embarrassing, exciting perhaps, but they felt it perverse to see you unclothed in such a state. Fully nude, Baba Yena began using the black, oily, drawing implements to draw intricate symbols all over your body. 

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, back still turned. 

“Her body is too weak to house her soul, so it is lost somewhere in the Astral Sea. The water from the Elu Spring in the Fey Wild will heal and strengthen her body. The markings are the spell that will call her soul back to her body.” 

With that, Baba Yena sat you up, popping the cork of the blue liquid, and carefully poured it down your throat. Immediately, your almost grey skin flushes with color, and your rapid, shallow breaths begin to even out. Namjoon watched the monitor carefully, breathing a sigh of relief as your heart rate became stronger and faster too. Baba Yena then closed her eyes, extending her arms out straight, palms down. Her palms began to glow with a bright, white light, and as they glowed, so did the markings on your body. Baba Yena’s face scrunched with concentration. “Come on, child. It is not yet time to go.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You came to, opening your eyes, rubbing them harshly as to clear your blurred vision. You feel yourself to be weightless, immediately, as if floating on water. All around you, horizon to horizon, were breathtakingly vibrant and clear night skies, completely lit up with stars and nebula as far as the eye could see. Below, was a massive and never-ending sea of the purest, molten silver, opaque and mirror-like, the gentle waves that broke the surface capturing the starlight with such luster you wondered for a moment if the water had been made of the cosmos, perhaps from the tears of the other stars, crying for the fallen. 

It didn’t exactly take a scholar to figure out you had found yourself in the Astral Plane, the plane souls found themselves in before continuing onto an afterlife fitting of whomever they worshiped in life. Legend has it that the Astral Sea is what waters the Tree of Life, and drinking from its waters will grant you all knowledge and power akin to a God in your own right. Others said those with enough hubris or guts to try are simply driven stark raving mad, cursed to roam the endless abyss with nothing but the voices in their head to keep them company. Considering that you had yet to hear of a God exalted by this water, you were more inclined to believe the latter. 

How the fuck did I get to the astral realm?  You asked yourself, anxiety and panic prickling at your skin. You combed through your memories, you woke up, got dressed, had breakfast, and… you hit a wall. You try to push forward, but the more you do so, the more your brain shoots with pain. Something or someone was blocking you from remembering something important, and you judged. Whether or not that was simply a symptom of the situation you found yourself in or a direct action taken by someone, you had yet to discern. 

There was at least one thing you knew about the Astral Plane, that in order to travel it, you only had to think, to will yourself in one direction or the other. You started by willing yourself into the vertical, upright position with the sea 10 meters below. What you did not know, however, was how magic functioned in this plane. The first obvious solution was to attempt to plane shift back to your reality, but when you mentally cast your consciousness out looking for laylines to dip into, you couldn’t find any. You willed yourself forward then, continuing the mental search. 

Time in the Astral worked differently than in the prime material plane. There was no day or night, time simply did not pass, so it was impossible to gauge how long you truly spent looking, but you only stopped when your head throbbed from the exertion. Could it be possible that the Astral had no laylines? Or perhaps your magic had been cut off somehow, rendering you blind to any laylines that might exist? If that was the case, had you actually died? The thought raised your blood pressure. 

Without the ability to dip into the magic, you were certainly not plane-shifting out of this shitty situation. You patted yourself down and only now realized that you were entirely without your personal effects, now wearing a rough spin, off-white tunic, brown pants of the same fabric, and a pair of worn leather boots. More importantly, without your stuff, you had returned to your true form. The realization was not helping the actually dead theory. You willed yourself forward, hoping to run into another soul, maybe someone who could help you figure this situation out. 

You floated for what felt like years, decades. You didn’t need to eat or sleep, and with no time reference, the monotony alone would drive anyone mad, you didn’t even need to drink the seawater, you decided. Sometimes you saw people, mostly in the distance, however, and when you’d try to call their attention, they would flee like their lives depended on it. Other times the Sea itself would open up, portals of different shades of light would flash, dropping off newly departed souls, or more often, yanking an older soul into one afterlife or another. No one spoke to one another, and certainly no one spoke to you. That is, until mercifully, you hear your voice called by a friendly male voice behind you. 

“Y/N?” The voice called out. The tone was friendly and definitively male, but there was a quality about the timbre that called out to something deeper and forgotten inside of you. You turned around hesitantly, seeing a tall, human man in his 20s. His hair was curly, his features dark and his skin a tanned olive. There was a familiarity to his look, and as he approached closer, it finally clicked. 

“Fareed?!” You asked with a mixture of shock and surprise. 

“Long time no see!” He said with a friendly wave. 

When you had first escaped from the Fey Wild, Fareed was your first friend as a young child. Fareed was a bubbly but fearless kid whose hobbies appropriately included talking to strangers and jumping off the highest places he could find. He often slipped extra portions of his lunch out of the house, but you always suspected his mom knew and was giving him too much food deliberately. His fearlessness got him taken away far too young, and when our country began conscripting soldiers for some war in some faraway land, he was the first to volunteer. We received news of his passing only one month later. 

To see him in his current state, alive, well, and sane choked you up and you found yourself fighting back tears. 

“It’s Y/N! I must look considerably different now than when you last saw me.” You said gesturing to your true self. “Why are you still here?” You asked. Fareed had died at least 200 years ago, and you had always hoped that he was living it up in some cushy afterlife. 

“I could recognize your energy from across all the planes.” He said with a light laugh. “The Astral has guardians and protectors like any other plane,” He explained. “I dedicated my afterlife to guiding and protecting the lost souls that wander here, and when it is time for them to pass on, I help them find that passage.”

“That sounds like an incredibly noble cause and absolutely something you would do,” You said with a laugh. 

“Speaking of which,” He began, “I have gotten a sudden influx of souls complaining about a weird, noisy soul wandering around, harassing folks. Which, in turn, leads me to you. What are you doing here, you don’t seem dead?” He asked. 

“About that,” you sighed “I woke up here and I can’t remember how or why I got here, and I would have simply teleported back but I can’t seem to use my magic.” 

“That is strange, considering that the Astral Plane is incredibly magically potent, equally if not more so than the Fey Wild.” He stated. “Come here and let me touch your forehead, let me see if I can’t get this sorted for you.” 

You willed yourself closer to him, and in response, he stuck his hand out, fingers tented, and placed them on your forehead. You feel nothing, but you watch Fareed’s eyes dart around rapidly, making negative vocalizations. After a moment, he drops his hand and focuses his vision back on you. 

“Life certainly hasn’t been very kind to you, Y/N, and for that, I want to express my condolences.” 

“Fareed the years have made you so well-spoken!” You exclaim with a laugh. “Thank you.” You said, more seriously. 

“You have a powerful curse on you, but I think you already knew that. It is strange but refreshing to see your true form.” He stated. You nodded in confirmation as he continued, “You are not dead. You almost died. That is how you ended up here. Someone extremely powerful wanted you to forget what happened to you, so they blocked your memory and your magic. Fortunately, I am also someone extremely powerful and I was able to remove the block, but not the curse on you as a whole. That is a complicated and difficult endeavor not even I can do.” 

With that information, you think back again, this time with crystal clear acuity. You remember the club, rescuing the woman, meeting Jungkook, his preposition. You remember being in his embrace, heat and lust and euphoria taking over every one of your senses, you remember begging him not to stop despite fading away slowly, and then darkness. 

“I think I have a soulmate, Fareed.” You breathed. 

“I am inclined to agree. All things do.” 

“He has mates already though, 6 of them!” You exclaimed. 

“Then you also have 6 additional mates,” Fareed said matter of factly. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t even know those people.” 

Fareed cocked an eyebrow at you. “Y/N, do you know how soulmates work?” 

“Love and magic and shit, no?” You asked with a shrug. 

“Not quite,” Fareed explained. “Souls as most people like to refer to them are actually called Fragments. They are the broken-up pieces of Soulias. When the gods created all sentient living things, they made a center of power, into which they put all knowledge, power, emotion, experience, and condition, and they named that power center Soulia. The problem occurred when the gods tried to plant these Soulias into vessels, the power would overwhelm the vessel and tear it apart, and the ones strong enough to withstand were monstrous creatures of pain, chaos, and violence. The Gods decided to fracture the Soulias. The larger Fragments would go into the vessels they were creating, and the smaller Shards, remnants of the fracturing process, would go into all other living creatures. Fracturing also ensured that no two vessels would live an identical life and that only true harmony could be attained when you shared your piece, your life, your soul, with others around you. It was usually convenient to break the Soulia into two, so often you will see soul mates in pairs of two. But for larger Soulias, smaller Fragments are needed, so it is broken up into smaller pieces, so soulmate groups of more than two are certainly possible. The Soulia inside the vessel will spend its whole life pining after its other pieces. Many people never find their true other half, but a good deal will find love nonetheless and find satisfaction in that. Many here found their Shards in life inside beloved plants and animals.” 

“I never knew all that,” You stared at him mouth agape. “So my soul, fragment, fits in with all of theirs?” You ask, gripping at your chest. 

“Precisely.”

“What happens when all the parts of a Soulia are bought together?” You asked. 

“Well, as I said before, the fracturing process is extremely imperfect, and in the creation of Fragments, a great number of shards are also produced, so getting every part of a Soulia back together is practically impossible. You can, however, tie the pieces together somewhat, bonding or mating as you likely know it, which affords all persons a metaphysical line to one another. Through that line, you can pick up on how your partner is feeling, you can send short messages or emotional sentiments. If they allow you in, you can enter their mind, they can share memories with you as they saw them, and they can allow you to feel exactly how they feel, understand how they actually think. It is a powerful connection, and allows for deeper intimacy and connection possible by other non-soulmate or non-bonded pairs.”

“That sounds… intrusive.” You mumble, arms crossed. 

“It can be, but everything is done with the consent of both parties. You can ignore the call of your mate down the bond, even after you’ve let them in you can push them out of your mind at any time, and you can block anyone from entering. Just takes a little practice.” 

You frown at that, “It sounds like you are selling it to me.” 

“I guess you could say that I am. You seem upset, why? Most people are delighted to meet a soulmate.” 

“I’m mad that my soulmate almost killed me, I’m mad that I have a soulmate, I’m mad that I have 7 soul mates. I’m mad that I’ve lived the last 50 years of my life in relative solitude because I was sick and tired of getting fucked over and suddenly 7 of potentially the deepest and most intimate connections a living thing can experience is dropped onto my lap so yeah, color me upset! I can’t do loss anymore, Fareed. It’s too painful.” 

He looked you up and down, contemplatively. “If I may, one old friend to another?” 

You nod in response. 

“Look around and tell me what you see.” He said, making a wide sweeping gesture. 

“I see endless and endless nothing dotted with lonely, lost souls, hoping that someday they’ll be called to something better.” 

“Time may not pass in the Astral, but what I quickly learned is that this is the summation of a human life, Y/N. They live, and most days are bleak, boring, and mundane. Occasionally, another lonely soul will cross their path, and for a time, they find comfort in one another. Ultimately, they part, and at the end of it all, they pass on hoping that whatever next is someplace better, and yet for many this is what they have to look forward to.” 

“I’m not sure I understand what you are getting at, Fareed.” 

“You have lived a long, brilliant life Y/N, many times longer than many of the souls that wander here. You have suffered more than much more than many of these souls, but you have been gifted the chance to love and be loved much more than many of these souls. So go, Y/N. Set yourself free from grief, worry, and suspicion. Do not shy away from love for fear of pain, love despite it, and love fiercely and unapologetically. When you are called to join us here again, come with joy in your heart from a life fearlessly spent, or be doomed to eternity searching the silver sea for your salvation. You are your own salvation.” 

You pursed your lips tightly, looking down at the Astral Sea as you processed his words. 

“It isn’t that easy,” You began, your voice wavering. 

“For you, it won’t be,” He admitted. “It is true some come into this world full of light and for whom trust and love come easy. But for those who have been hurt as you have, it is going to be hard. Just because things are hard doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or that they are bad for us.” 

“You know what I am, what I am made of. You see the ticking bomb I am, and yet you insist I allow people to get close to me to what... hurt as many as I can? I will never be free, Fareed. They will chase me to the ends of time and take from me what they feel they are owed. We both know that.” You finish your rant, a single tear running down your cheek. As you do so, a bright white portal opens on the top of the Astral Sea, slowly dragging you closer and closer to its event horizon. 

“It seems our time together has run out,” Fareed said. “If you would allow me to leave you with a parting thought before you go. The only memories they blocked from you were of him. They wanted you to forget him so desperately they blocked your magic essentially confining you to a realm where they would never be able to touch you again. That is worth considering.” 

As your feet began to hit the portal, Fareed grabbed your hand holding it close. 

“Make the world tremble at you, Y/N. I don’t want to see you here for a long, long time. Good luck-” The end of the word was clipped as your vision went white, your hearing went silent, and like you were being flushed down a toilet, you felt yourself being yanked at lightning speed by your feet, and suddenly everything was again dark. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Baba Yena pulled up her arms suddenly, and in response, your body involuntarily arched. When doing so, you let out a sudden, loud gasp, causing all present to breathe a small sigh of relief to themselves too. 

“The child was very deep, so it took me a while to find her.” Baba Yena said, redressing you in a spare hospital bed and tucking you in gently. “Both of you,” She said, turning to the men who had huddled together for comfort during the spell. “Kneel.” 

They looked at each other, but rather than piss off a supremely powerful being who just did you a massive favor, the pair concede, sinking to the floor on their knees. Once in position, Baba Yena approached the pair. While kneeling, Baba Yena was at eye level with the boys. She approached Jungkook first. 

Thwack!  She cracked him across the skull with a walking cane. “What are you doing bleeding girls dry like you're some poor changling with no control of their thirst? You are over 200 years old, act your age! You had no business testing out a connection you had no idea if you could control without supervision.” Baba Yena scolded him thoroughly. 

“And you,”  Thwack!  This time she cracked Namjoon over the skull with the cane. “What the hell kind of doctor are you? You were in such a rush to do nothing you didn’t stop to see the blinding, gold amulet that she wears? The very same type you and several of your mates wear? If he almost killed her, you were signing the death certificate with your negligence ink. You ought to be ashamed.” She finished, brushing nothing off her petticoat, and gathering her things to leave. 

“She will wake in 3 days fully rested and back to full health. There will come a time when she has questions about herself, and when she does, find me. Until then, leave me alone. You kids have caused me enough trouble as it is. Oh and, be careful with that one. She has been through enough.” And with that, she flourishes the very same cane, vanishing. 

The silence that hangs in the air after Baba Yena leaves is long and heavy, but mixed with relief as the pair approach both sides of your bed, staring at your sleeping form. It was amazing how starkly opposite you looked now to even just an hour before, knocking on death’s door. 

“I think you have a lot of explaining to do, Kook.”

“Later,” The younger one pleaded. “I just want to sit here for a little while.” 

“Later.” Namjoon agreed, excusing himself. Not but 20 minutes later, he found himself back in the room, second chair and laptop in hand. Jungkook was too guilt-ridden to say it, but he was immensely grateful for the company. He hoped you were too. 

_____________________________________________ Tags @luvlykyy ---------------------------------------------------------- Big lore dump this chapter! Some of you may be noticing some inspiration from DnD to lend me some framework for world-building! That is absolutely true, but as I also mentioned I have been using it as a framework, and as such it may or may not veer violently off the Forgotten Realms cannon, so don't get too twisted about "Hey, that's not how that thing works!" It's just a work of fiction I'm writing for funsies at the end of the day so don't take it too seriously. I hope you are all enjoying~

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #ot7 x reader #namjoon x reader #bts x reader angst #bts x reader smut #bts x oc #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts x fem!reader #ot7 x reader smut #ot7 x you #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts smut #bts smau #bts #bangtan #foundfatedforever

[highvern]

In the Lake

Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan x fem!reader

Genre: romance, light horror, greek mythology!au

Warnings: drowning, mention of drunk Hannie (once), talk of a dead body, briefly suggestive moments

Length: 2.5k

Note: not proofread, just me spitballing. monster!reader is a hybrid of a naiad and a siren

Bonus

Monsters live in the lake.

That’s what Jeonghan’s dad tells him.

Monsters with round wet eyes and needle teeth. Who will drown anyone who comes too close to their shores with a laugh of glee. Monsters that will gorge on a man’s heart, and decorate their underwater gardens with his bones.

Jeonghan is never allowed to visit the lake.

And he doesn’t.

Until he turns eight.

—

Breathing glass.

The inky blue surface of the lake can only be described as breathing glass, reflecting the heavy full moon that illuminates the skies about and the ring of black trees circling the shore.

A perfect reflection. Clear enough Jeonghan is convinced that if he jumped in, his body would shatter the smooth surface into crystals of glass rather than clapping waves.

The bright moon lights up the clearing, making Jeonghan privy to every detail from one shore to the other. No one is here. Nothing is here. Not an single animal looking for a cool drink in the late night, the thicket of trees obscuring the hideaway silent. Even the wind seems to hold his breath here, unnaturally yielding.

But Jeonghan is eight and he’s not afraid of the stories his dad tells him around the hearth.

And as eight year olds are wont to do, Jeonghan steps in the dry rotted dock with a sure foot, and peaks over the edge.

Only to meet the eyes of the monster his dad warned him about.

Jeonghan scrambles back, the shrill scream of fear breaking the fragile silence. Nearly toppling into the water in an effort to escape the demon, only to have splinters bite into his hands as he manages to regain his balance.

The monster is on this side of the water too.

Only a hair away from Jeonghan’s face, his breath disturbing the beads of moisture clinging to its forehead.

It reeks of death and fear.

And when Jeonghan makes it to the tree line, it’s gone as if it never existed in the first place.

—

The second time Jeonghan comes to the lake, he’s sixteen and forgets the childhood nightmares that came to life one autumn night.

The daughter of the village baker asked him to meet her there, with droopy eyelids and a bitten lip. 

But the moon is high in the sky, a waning sideways grin, and she’s nowhere to be seen.

Vague memories of a night years ago attempt to surface, but Jeonghan can’t decipher reality from the realm of sleep. But he distinctly feels that this place, this eerie wrong place, is frozen in time. That the hedge of trees is a portal between worlds, and this lake is a pocket beyond any.

The dock creeks under his soft steps, gently bobbing ripples across the water with each shift of his weight.

At the end of the dock waits the baker's daughter. Only her eyes visible above the water, milky hue eclipsing the swampy green; flesh swollen and bloated.

And behind her is the monster, eyes crinkled in horrific amusement as Jeonghan untangles what happened.

And the monster is gone when he looks back from the safety of the trees, just like when he was a child.

—

The parchment bleeds ink from rushed sketches of the horrific creature Jeonghan encountered.

None do his terror justice.

Oil slick hair clinging to its scalp, eyes round and horrifically human. Two times he’d seen the monster of the lake, and both only from the bridge of its nose up.

But the fables of his childhood form in his memory and his dreams once again.

Below the surface of the glass lake was a mouth full of quilled teeth, eager to eat his heart and suck his bones. Webbed clawed hands, to snatch him underwater when it got the chance.

None of the drawings are right.

So Jeonghan goes back.

—

Apparently the monster talks.

And the monster has a lovely voice.

It’s waiting at the end of the dock this time. In the same place Mina’s body floated weeks ago.

You’ve returned. She laughs in his mind, light like the chime of a tin bell. 

And for a second, Jeonghan thinks he might have dreamt everything. How could this creature kill Mina? How could it be the subject of nightmares, yet sound like an angel?

But he knows he’s not smart enough to imagine any of this.

“You talk?”

Of course I talk. Do you listen?

“You drowned my friend.”

We were just playing.

Her eyes don’t leave Jeonghan’s face, and her nose remains beneath the surface of the water, but she tilts her head as if she’s innocent.

We can play too.

Her voice croons, and his blood heats at the breathy tone.

Jeonghan musters all the venom he’s capable of. Hatred on Mina’s behalf, on her parents behalf. “I don’t play with monsters.” He spits, turning to leave.

Pity. She pouts. You’d look great in my garden.

—

The moon calls Jeonghan to the lake again a few months later. Silent and expectant, she reaches her peak as he breaks into the clearing.

His monster is waiting for him too.

I was wondering when you’d return.

Jeonghan would say he doesn’t know why he’s here. But that’s a lie.

His room is filled with drawings of this place, drawings of her. A stack of books he bought with his measly salary at the mill, stories about demons and monsters who call water their home. 

None of it compares to the eerie serenity of being here.

“What are you?” He asks from the safety of the earth at the mouth of the dock. 

Standing on the dock had been foolish, the only sure thing he’d learned in his patchy research. Jeonghan will stay out of reach and out of her stomach.

Come here and I’ll tell you. She whispers, voice tickling through his ears and down his spine.

“No.”

Boo. She pouts. Jeonghan can almost imagine a childish stomp and cross of her arms below water. But all he can see is her eyes.

“What’s your name?”

What's your name?

“What will you give me if I tell you?”

I can show you the bones of your friend.

Rage flares on his tongue, white hot and acrid. A step on the dock sends a giggle through his mind.

You humans are so simple. The monster admonishes.

“Would you be happy if your friend was drowned by some ugly beast?” He screams at where she floats, veins popping on the side of his neck, the whites of his eyes visible.

My friends don’t drown. She sniffs, as that’s the problem at hand. And I’m not ugly.

“Must be if you hide your face.”

The wet squelch of her hands hitting the wood of the dock shocks Jeonghan. Human hands, distinctly human except for the necrotic tint to her fingertips. And her human-like hands lead to human like arms, feeding into a very human-like torso.

She smiles beautifully as Jeonghan averts his gaze from her breasts, nipples peeking through the long matted tresses of sopping hair.

Am I a beast, boy? 

“Yes.”

Her lower body remains obscured below the dock, dangling to the water. But Jeonghan spots the flare of her hips, the bite of her waist.

Not a beast at all.

She stays perched on the dock long after he’s gone.

This time, Jeonghan doesn’t look back.

—

Jeonghan dreams of her.

Fantasies of her rising on to the dock, beckoning him with a black tipped finger to come closer.

Imaginations of her mouth, how her unmistakably human body would feel in his palms.

And when she’s sucked his breath away, she pulls him under the water and into darkness forever.

—

A drunk trapeze through the forest is a fool's errand. But Jeonghan knows each tree by name, every trail by its curves. 

He’s at the lake again.

And she’s not here.

The urge to call for her arises, but what does he call her? Beast? Monster?

I don’t have a name. She whispers to his mind, forcing Jeonghan to scan the surface lake with the grace of a ragdoll.

“So what do I call you?” Jeonghan asks to nothing.

Come here and I’ll tell you. 

Eager for an answer, Jeonghan stumbles forward. “Where?”

Here. She calls, head slowly rising in the same spot at the bottom of the dock.

Jeonghan’s feet stop before they touch the wood.

“You’ll drown me.”

Not a question but a truth.

She drags herself up at the end of the dock, this time sitting. Her lower body is human like too; legs glistening in the moonlight.

But her face fills with curiosity.

Would that be so bad? She argues. Then you can stay with me forever.

“How long is your forever?”

For the first time, Jeonghan senses her hesitate.

“How old are you?”

Time means nothing to me.

Jeonghan is familiar with her tone. The same tone he used when he lied about Mina. A lie he’s convincing himself is the truth.

“Have you always been here?”

Yes.

“Are there others?”

Am I not enough for you, human? 

If Jeonghan could believe it, he might argue she sounds jealous.

“Seems lonely.”

I have plenty of company. Would you like to see?

His silence at her threat gets her to speak again.

My sisters left. They abandoned this place because humans were interesting enough.

“You can leave this place?”

None of his books mentioned that. But none of the books mentioned anything like her.

If I wish.

“And you don’t?”

I don’t find humans that interesting.

“I think you’re interesting.”

She disappears into the water without a splash. 

—

It becomes a routine.

Under the watchful eye of a full moon, Jeonghan sneaks from town to visit his lake. Sometimes she’s waiting for him, body forming puddles on the ancient dock. Others, doesn’t rise beyond the bottom curve of her eyes. And a few times she stayed deep below the surface.

Jeonghan refuses to dwell on the stench of rejection that reeks through his blood on those nights.

Humans age and wrinkle. I will stay beautiful forever.

She explains why she doesn’t want to leave her home, rolling onto her belly and pushing her breasts together tantalizingly; as if proving her point. Jeonghan would like to claim her attempts to charm him have lost their luster. 

He sits a safe distance away, firmly out of reach of her hands but not her words.

“What’s beauty if no one else gets to enjoy it?” He asks, munching on an apple from his cottage. There meetings stretch into hours now, and he’ll need the fuel for his early call into the mill.

Do you believe you're the only human to find me?

Deep in his gut, Jeonghan realizes he had. The idea of another person, another man, talking with her, being charmed by her, boils his blood. But she’s a demon, and he can’t claim jealousy to something beyond his understanding. So instead, he plays with her.

“Did you play with them?”

They look lovely in my garden! She claps, a macabre type of glee.

Jeonghan reclines on his back, watching the sky above. The earliest tinges of sunlight are starting to bleed into the dark night, signaling his time to leave.

What's your village like?

The question shocks him. She’s never asked about the world beyond the trees. A comment about something he brought with him such as a book or a treat for her to try. But she only cared about what came into her realm, not what existed outside it.

“Like any other I suppose.”

How do you explain something as familiar as the back of your hand, to someone who doesn’t even know what a hand is?

She snorts, continuing to brush her hair with a comb Jeonghan refuses to think more of. Very helpful.

“It’s a village, with lots of people. And when the spring comes, people hang garlands of flowers everywhere. It’s beautiful.”

Beautiful…

She ponders the imagine, silent for the first time this night.

Pressing his luck, Jeonghan continues.

“You’d just have to see it to understand.”

When she dunks into the water as he leaves, there’s a sadness hanging around her shoulders like a lead weight.

—

“Hannie! Jeonghan!” The gruff of his father’s shouts floods his ear. “Wake up boy!”

Bolting up, Jeonghan throws his eyes around the room wildly, expect a fire due to the urgency of his rising.

“What?” He croaks.

“There’s a girl downstairs. Says she’s your friend.”

Eyebrows curled in confusion, lips twisted sourly, Jeonghan responds. “A friend?”

Perhaps one of the girls in town misinterpreted his kindness again. But Jeonghan hadn’t give any of them more attention than was due since regularly visiting his lake, consumed by the being who ruled it. Whoever this “friend” is should pray his exhaustion will stifle his reprimand.

Shouldering around his father, Jeonghan stomps down the rickety stairs to the foyer. A biting remark hot on his tongue, shoulders square with anger.

But it all melts into shock when he sees a a head of inky hair, wide curios eyes, and legs dripping onto the wooden floor in front of the fire. A familiar brown wool blanket clocks her figure, the one Jeonghan tucked into a tree by the lake for colder nights.

She isn’t looking at him, but rather the blazing hearth heating his home. She stares as if there’s never been a larger miracle than the flames licking towards her, round face illumined with the warm glow. 

Jeonghan’s grunt of surprise turns her around swiftly. 

And he’s greeted with the same beautiful smile and bell like voice he’d recognize anywhere.

“I wanted to see.”

—

There were monsters in the lake.

That’s what Hwamin’s mom tells her.

Since the beginning of the earth, the monsters dwelled in the lake, blessed to laugh and play for eternity. However, overtime, they would leave one by one, exiting the line of trees without looking back. Until only one monster remained. She vowed never to forsake her watery kingdom like her sisters before her.

And she didn’t.

Until the monster fell in love with a man who visited her every night under a sly moon. 

And when his words weren’t enough, when she wished to see his world beyond her own, the monster left her lake and married him.

Hwamin’s eventually stops listening to her mother’s bed time stories because her father always interrupts from the door of her room with a laugh before crossing to kiss her mother in the gross way grown ups do that makes Hwamin green in the face.

She doesn’t really understand what’s so special about the lake in the woods anyway. Or why her mom pretends she isn’t crying when they visit it on her birthday.

#svthub #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #svt jeonghan #svt fanfic #svt x reader #jeonghan #jeonghan smut #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan angst #🫡 highvern

[kaihuntrr]

The Sea Prince; Hide & Seek

I don’t think you should look behind you, Lizzie.

The sea was dangerous. 

It was no place for a human.

Sheer cold winds howled as the waves crashed against each other. The sky was pitch black, only illuminated by the bright crash of lightning overhead. The torrential rain pelted the ocean around her, driving the waves higher and making it harder to see. Warring sounds of nature were the only thing the survivor could hear as she kept as still as possible, clinging to floating pieces of driftwood and debris to hide her frail body from the terrors of the deep. 

The survivor was drenched in water, barely breathing as she pressed her body down against the wooden planks as she tried to make herself smaller than she already was. She shivered, the freezing air surrounded her. Thunder rumbled overhead, and her blue eyes narrowed as she adjusted her blurry vision from the chaos around her. She shouldn’t be here. She should be on the island with her friends. She should be safe. She was supposed to be safe. The survivor took in deep breaths, her hands covering her head as she tried her best not to scream in fear. 

Don’t let them find you.

A blinding flash of lightning struck the sinking, burning vessel in front of her. What was once the ship that she and her parents had boarded was now nothing more than a wooden plaything for those monsters. She strained her ears, listening for any screeches or roars that bellowed from the deep, but there were none. Only then did she dare to move. 

She couldn’t believe this was happening. Her eyes were glued to the destroyed ship, the only thing left that provided her a sick sense of relief. It was a reminder of how lonely she was. She hated being alone. She moved the messy pink hair away from her face as tears began to form. Her fingers ran pulled at her hair as her breathing quickened and her vision blurred. 

She could feel her heart pounding out of her chest and her stomach twisted in pain as her head hit the wood below her. She had to be strong. Her parents told her to be strong. She had to be. She was the unshakable Elizabeth Shadow, inheritor of the Shadow Pearl corporation, nothing should scare her. Nothing should scare her. She was a big girl. Big girls shouldn’t panic. This should all be over soon. 

How did this all happen? Just a few hours ago all she saw was the clear, sunny sky and peaceful waves. Lizzie closed her eyes as she took in another deep breath, casting her mind back to the once-calm waves and breezy chill that danced across the ships. She needed to calm down. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

—————

The skies overhead were a beautiful baby blue, lazily hung with small specks of clouds and filled with the songs of migratory birds that passed by. How these birds flew across these long patches of ocean was baffling to her. Lizzie stood on the upper deck of a grand cruise ship, watching the birds fly in the distance. Her hands against the railing as the salty sea air blew through her hair as she cherished the view of the ocean. The ship was a fine white vessel used for transportation and leisure. It had several polished wooden floors with different levels to accommodate all the people on board. The ship rumbled with the vibrations of big engines propelling forward. The ship’s hull was lined in the typical metal plating meant to defend the ship from the sea monsters infesting the ocean. 

It was hard to believe this place was as scary as all the stories her friends had told her. She heard lots of stories of dangerous sea monsters, and while she did fear them as any kid did, the sea didn’t look like what she pictured in her mind. It was just a big pond filled with fish enough to feed the entire human race, all animalkind even! Ponds aren’t scary.

There was no storm. There were no tall sharp rocks to destroy ships. There was not even a hint of mist! Most importantly, there aren’t any vicious monsters coming for their ship. She didn’t think there would be any monster coming close to her ship. With their ship being a transportation boat, they were protected by several hunting ships that formed a circle around the big boat. No monsters would attack them, they’d be fine.

Hunters, Lizzie knew of the profession through Grian. His parents were hunters; trained and ready to kill any sea monster that comes their way. Grian described their ships as being covered in big weaponry and parts of the monsters they killed as trophies. Lizzie stared at the metal walls covered in spikes and harder material, showing some dents and bitemarks as they stuck to the passenger ship’s side. The hunter ships all had huge sails to carry them across the waters and an engine for a speedy getaway, all for the safety of fellow humans. 

Lizzie stared at the hunters’ ships as Grian’s words echoed through her mind. His parents were no longer in this world, but Grian was still excited about becoming a hunter. 

Lizzie could see the passion in Grian’s eyes as he spoke about hunting, full of wonder and amazement as he recollected what his birth parents had told him. Her friends all had different thoughts about hunters. She asked Martyn what being a hunter was like, given he was already training to be one, and he gave her a huge grin as he answered her: It was awesome.

 She remembered the look on Grian’s face as Martyn recounted all the cool tricks his parents had taught him, the sour expression on his face was priceless. He’d said, “How come you get to do all of that? Why can’t I?”

Lizzie visualized Martyn’s cocky smirk as he rustled with Grian’s hair, “That’s because my parents are actual hunters! Yours are smarty-pants hunters, you don’t do these sorts of stuff!”

When she asked Jimmy if he wanted to be a hunter too, his eyes had gotten big and he’d shook his head, “No way! That’s too much for me. I’d rather do what Mum and Dad do, it’s more my speed.”

Lizzie could practically hear the loud laugh Joel made when Jimmy had said that, causing a light chuckle to slip out of her. Joel had wrapped an arm around his taller brother, rolling his eyes, “He’s way too scared to do it. He thinks a monster is gonna come up to eat him or something. We’ll save him though!”

The memory of their shared laughter warmed her heart. She was excited to see them again.

Lizzie and her parents were on their way to meet with her friends and their parents, the adults planning on talking about some sort of deal she didn’t fully grasp yet. Eh, that was adult talk, she didn’t care for it. She wanted to be there to see her friends. 

Lizzie walked along the upper deck, one hand tracing the railing as she stared outward, passing small waves at hunters when they looked her way, smiling and laughing. She heard two voices up ahead, discussing something. There was nothing for her to do there other than to watch the ships go by, so Lizzie abruptly stopped walking to listen in. Two people were leaning by the wall, and to not look like she was eavesdropping Lizzie walked past them and ducked behind the wall. They wouldn’t notice her.

The two people were in a hushed conversation, one figure leaning towards the other as they spoke. It didn't seem to register to either stranger how loud they were being with their whispers. One of the voices was more frantic in their speech, stuttering, “What if they find us?” 

The other voice chuckled, soft thuds indicated they were patting their friend’s shoulder as they sighed, “They won’t. They’re not real.” 

What wasn’t real? 

The first voice spoke up again, their tone unchanging, “B-But they are! If not them, then–” 

The second voice sighed loudly, raising their voice and cutting the other off, “Then nothing, my friend. If monsters try to approach we’ll be protected.” 

The first voice spoke up again, much more quietly and less frantic. It didn’t seem like they were arguing anymore, “It’s not them I’m worried about, it’s–” If they weren’t arguing, Lizzie wanted to know why the first one was so scared.

The second one spoke up again, their tone in a low hiss, “The sea princes don’t exist, mate. They’re fairytales.”

Sea princes? Weren’t those the stories Grian and Martyn used to tell her? Her thoughts were interrupted as a low growl of thunder rumbled above, dark clouds began to form. Uh oh. Best to go downstairs with her parents. She didn’t want to get hit by the rain. Rain was scary. 

Her mind wandered back to the sea princes as she walked to her parents’ room, getting as far from the rain as possible. It was a popular story. As far as she knew, the sea princes were these big and ugly creatures who towered over all of the sea monsters. Mermaids fought them, which made Lizzie interested in the myths.

Lizzie walked down the staircase leading her down to her room. Which one was it? The third floor. It should be there. 

She shook her head, coming back to her thoughts. Mermaids, right. 

Mermaids were a beautiful mix of human and fish, guarding humanity from the evil sea princes as their sworn enemy. People sometimes caught sight of them as they stood on the edge of port towns or sailed on big ships. Lizzie gasped in realization. Big ships just like this one! Maybe she’d get to see a mermaid! Stories said seeing one was a blessing. It would be a magical moment for her to meet one on her very first ship ride!

The other thing was the treasures. The way Martyn described them made them sound so cool. There were ancient totems that could defy death, apples made of pure gold, even tomes and texts that could turn people into gods. Supposedly all those treasures existed somewhere in the ocean, surely giving anyone thoughts of what powers they could have with it. People could live forever, talk to fishes, make plants grow, anything was possible!

Lizzie visualized finding one of the treasures, a great and shiny orb that turned her into an axolotl mermaid queen that could fight off all sorts of danger to protect her friends. To her, it didn’t sound outlandish at all, it sounded cool. A lot of people wanted to find sea prince treasures, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to find it too. All sorts of cool things could be under the ocean, they just needed to look. 

Lizzie peered through a big wall of glass looking in on one of the lower floors. She saw plenty of people sitting on couches and talking. Some of them were noticeably hunters, looking out towards the open sea with weapons hung on their belts and scars marked on their bodies. 

They were fine, they were safe. That one person from earlier was wrong, they were protected from whatever danger came their way. 

She turned away, continuing down the stairs and into the hallways, pulling out a key with a tag of her room number. Three-four-one. It was somewhere down the corridor. She looked at each of the plates by the doors before stopping at one. Three-four-one, that was it! Lizzie inserted the key into the keyhole and unlocked the door. She greeted her parents with a smile, “I’m back!”

Lizzie’s father turned and grinned, crouching as his daughter ran up to give him a hug, “How was your little exploration? Find anything cool?” She looked at him with her big eyes, shaking her head. 

The room was spacious, but maybe it was because she was still so small, her parents looked big in the room. They didn’t seem to fit on the bed together, as Lizzie remembered her father offering to sleep on the couch. At the end of the room was a window overlooking the sea, a big bed, and a couch beside it. There was a small sitting area with a couple of bookshelves and complimentary snacks left with a desk. The door to the bathroom was next to the entrance of the room, with a closet off to the side. 

Lizzie sat on the couch, swinging her feet, “Nothing much! I did hear two big kids talk about the sea princes though.” 

Her mother looked up from the bed, closing the book she was reading as her husband sat beside her. The couple shared an amused glance, smiling at each other before looking at their child. Her mother tilted her head, “And you don’t look scared at all! What a big girl you are, Lizzie.” Lizzie giggled, her feet kicking faster. 

Her father sighed loudly, striking a dramatic pose, “Honey, she’s getting so old! We’re getting old!” 

Her mother laughed, rolling her eyes, “Ay, that we are. She’s brave enough to be out on her own, exploring the ship and reporting her findings. I remember how scared you were when we first told you about them,” she sighed, glancing to the side as she chuckled, “You’re growing up so fast.” 

Lizzie stuck her tongue out, furrowing her eyebrows, “But I don’t wanna be old yet! I still–”

Loud, piercing bells began to ring in the distance as the ship made a loud creaking noise and nearly went sideways with a sudden push, sending them sprawling. Lizzie gripped the bed as her parents reoriented themselves. Lizzie’s father approached the window and stuck his head out as her mother motioned for her to come to her. Lizzie shifted on the bed. She didn’t want to move, she just got there! The bed felt comfortable.

Lizzie could hear a low trilling sound from the open window, echoing as glass windows began to crack. The noise vibrated the ship. The bells continued to ring as voices of the hunters rang through the air. There were loads of hunters around the ship. She should be fine. They all should be fine. 

Her father shut the window, turning to his wife and child. His eyes were wide, but he tried to stabilize his breathing, “We have to leave. Now.” 

Her mother nodded as she shot out of bed and hastily gathered her things. Lizzie sat on the bed, shifting around as her parents paced around the room in haste. “Why do we need to leave?” she questioned, “The hunters should be able to stop the monsters!” That was their job, wasn’t it? There were four hunting ships in the area, they should be enough. 

It didn’t stop her father from continuing, “I know they will, but we also need to be protected. We have to stay safe.” 

The waves continued to jostle the ship, the gentle swaying became harsher as some kind of noise escaped from the ocean. Lizzie could hear the muffled sounds of the hunters firing their weapons, but there was no sound of a creature getting hurt. Lizzie’s eyebrows furrowed, “But the hunters–” 

Her mother was the one to cut in this time, carrying bags with some of their clothes hanging loosely out of the top, “Lizzie, no buts. You’re a big girl, but even big girls get scared when the threat is very real.” 

No. Big kids don’t get scared. She won’t be scared. Stories about sea monsters used to frighten her, but not anymore. She’d be brave. 

Lizzie hit her fist against the cushiony bed. Her voice rose as she firmly declared, “I’m not scared!” The light from the window had cut off before either of her parents could say anything in return, tossing the family into the pitch black darkness. 

Lizzie saw her parents walking backwards in fear, staring at the window. Their faces were pale and their eyes widened as they took shaky steps. She watched her parents’ breathing quicken as they sank to their knees. Lizzie cocked her head, raising an eyebrow with a frown, “What’s wrong?” 

Her parents didn’t look at her, staring at the window instead, but her mother spoke, “Lizzie. Walk to us, slowly.” Lizzie had the gut feeling to turn back. She shifted her body, starting to turn, but her mother caught on. “Don’t look behind you. Look at us. Me.” Why not look behind her? What could possibly– another monstrous trill resonated in the air, shaking the ground.

Something was blocking the window. 

Now her mother was staring right at Lizzie, her eyes wide as her breathing became loud and uneven. Lizzie got off the bed, slowly taking small steps before her mother took one second to glance back at the window. 

Lizzie looked behind her.

An eye. A huge one. The white of the eye was a pitch black abyss with a piercing orange and blue iris staring directly at them. The creature’s pupil was large and ice white. A sound emitted from its throat as it rumbled through the structure of the ship. Lizzie could feel it shake the floor beneath her feet, her body shook along with it. 

Time seemed to stop around them as they were locked in a staring match with a monster that could so easily tear them apart. Lizzie’s body shook, her heart was pounding out of her chest as she shakily took a step backwards, away from the eye. The eye moved along with her, as if following Lizzie’s every movement. 

The eye moved in closer as the ship began to tilt. Lizzie and her parents lost their footing, sliding across the floor and hitting the door as the creature made another low trill before a sudden shriek, distant from the ship, broke the air of silence. The white pupil suddenly narrowed into a slit as the massive monster produced an unholy roar that shattered the window. 

The creaking wood of the ship crumbled and cracked, metal bending and twisting before snapping open as water rushed in. Horrified screams and gasps came from the other rooms and were drowned out as the echoing trill resounded through the deep. Lizzie’s parents grabbed her and swam out through the shattered window. The beast was no longer in sight.

Lizzie learned an important thing that day; she didn’t know how to swim. 

Don’t panic. Panicking will make things worse. 

Lizzie could feel her mother’s arm wrap around her, hurriedly placed on a wooden door. Lizzie’s heart pounded out of her chest. Her parents were there, close to her. They weren’t on the door like she was.

Everything became a blur after. 

Rain started to pour. Hunters screamed in fear, “What is that thing?!” before their ships snapped open and bodies fell into the salty sea water below. 

There were people in the water. So many people were in the water. 

Thunder and lightning raged in the sky as the creature’s long tail pierced out of the water from time to time, slowly but surely circling around them. Lizzie didn’t know where the ship was; she’d lost her parents. They’d become separated as chunks of different ships had begun to scatter and crash into the water as two different beasts roared and shrieked. 

Lizzie could hear her parents call out to her. She flailed her arms, “Mom?! Dad?! Where are you?!” She looked around her surroundings in hopes of finding them. Please. She needed to see them again. She looked at the direction she had heard her parents. Where were–

The monster let out a bellowing roar, rattling the water as a gigantic red fin shot up from the depths swiftly knocked Lizzie into the water as it swam past. She was disoriented– where were her parents? She called out to them again. She needed to find them.

“Mom?! Dad?!”

She couldn’t hear their voices anymore.

Lizzie didn’t know where to go. She flailed her arms aimlessly while the cold waters tried to consume her, eventually finding something to desperately latch onto as she struggled to remain afloat. She remembered she had grabbed a wooden wall and stuck to it for dear life. More and more voices were drowned out by the rain. The only thing she could hear over the sound of the burning ships and the angry weather were the monsters. She prayed to whatever god was out there to spare her. She didn’t want to die.

The monsters disappeared, but not for long. They were coming back for her, weren’t they?

Lizzie had been able to wedge herself between two pieces of debris to hide. The monsters didn’t seem to have noticed her. The waves that used to crash against her only pushed her slightly. Lizzie looked up to see the long finned tail of the creatures sink below. 

Why had it been staring at her? Her parents? Was it some kind of sick game? She did not want to play. 

She was alone. 

Everything had been fine until now. Maybe if she never boarded the ship, her parents would be okay. She wanted them here with her. Maybe it was better if her friends visited her instead of the other way around. 

The waves rocked her shelter, as if trying to calm her down. It wasn’t working. 

Lizzie looked up from the piece of wooden wall beneath her, her vision blurry with tears, and saw a lot of the floating debris moving in the same direction. Lizzie wiped the tears away from her eyes as she tried to focus. The… the debris weren’t moving because of the waves. They were moving because the creature was circling them! Lizzie covered her mouth from screaming as a small vortex was created, her head becoming light as she heard the beast roar. 

Stay calm. Inhale. Exhale. 

The spinning got faster, making Lizzie want to puke, but the motions came to an abrupt stop as she was gathered with the other floating debris. Her eyes widened as she heard other people crying out in fear. She wasn’t the only one! There were others who were still alive!

The rain made it hard to see the looming figure rising out of the water before her. She saw faint hints of blue, its chest had stripes of other colors glowed faintly in the darkness. Lizzie heard shouts over the ocean, but the storm and the crashing waves swallowed the noise. She heard a rumble in the water before a second figure appeared, something blurry white and red bursting up. The other beast. There was another one.

What if they were looking for her? 

Lizzie could hear the beasts ‘speak’, grunts and guttural echoes boomed above, she wished she could shut her eyes but they were fixed on the monsters. She didn’t even have a clear look at either one, just knowing one of them was red and the other was blue. She heard something rise from the water as the terrified shrieks of the other people filled the air between rolls of thunder, “P-Please! Spare us! We have families– children to come home to!” 

Lizzie heard a loud crash of water, likely the monster was angry at their response. Did they even understand human speech? She didn’t need to worry about that. 

The air hung silent as thunder echoed. One of the humans began to speak, “Y-Your eye… we apologize for–” The red beast growled. Its sounds were different from the blue one, a rumbling echo instead of a rattling thrill, yet carried the same booming volume. Its tail swished, jostling Lizzie’s hiding spot, unknowingly giving her a better view of the creatures. 

One of the beasts was covered in shiny, golden spikes. Its tail was armored, red with a blue-green tail fin. The other beast’s tail was blue with colorful splotches, its fins were a red sunset-like hue with patterns of flickering stars. She couldn’t see the end of its tail, likely underwater. 

Something that stuck out to her weren’t the colors or the shape of their tails though.

She could be seeing things, but they looked human.

The blue one’s colorful stripes almost looked like tattoos along its back, Lizzie could see red fins coming from its head and she swore it had long teal hair. The red one had pearlescent white hair with brown streaks coming from it, unable to see much else other than that.

Why did they look human?

The men’s screams were tossed upward, the beasts thrashing and moving the debris, along with Lizzie, around. She swore the beasts were laughing, their bellowing unholy roars boomed as Lizzie braced for something. Anything. She was expecting the monsters to end it, to just kill them and leave. 

Yet…

“HUNTERS…” 

Lizzie shut her eyes. There was no way this was real. She had to be dreaming. This was just one bad dream, right?

“...DON’T BELONG HERE.”

It spoke.

Those were human words.

No ordinary beast can just talk, right?

This was all a bad dream. Lizzie just needed to wake up. She covered her ears, blocking out the dozens of screams as they were silenced by the sound of jaws snapping. Her heart began pounding and with one final crash of lightning, she shut her eyes for a long, long time.

—————

“Lizzie?” 

Where was she?

“Lizzie, wake up.” 

Was she dead?

“Are you okay?”

Are her parents alive?

“Lizzie, are you there?” 

Was she back home?

“Please. Wake up, Lizzie.”

…Those were her friends calling her, weren’t they? 

Lizzie shot up, breathing heavily as she grasped her chest. This wasn’t the ocean. It was bright and sunny. She could hear birdsong outside and the gentle brush of leaves against the wind. Sunlight filtered through the window behind her, looking around, she could see the expressions her friends were giving her. 

Joel was right beside Lizzie, clenching his fists with hunched shoulders, his eyes glued on her. Jimmy was on the other side, one of his hands held onto his head, gripping his blonde hair as he leaned over. Grian was beside Jimmy, his wide eyes stared at her as his eyebrows furrowed, biting his lip. 

They were here. She was here with them. Her parents. 

Lizzie took in a deep breath, “Where are my parents?” 

The three brothers shared a glance, exchanging mini expressions until Joel nodded, placing his hand on the bed as an offering. Lizzie placed her hand on top of his. Joel glanced at the floor as he sighed, “They’re… they’re.. How do I phrase this?” Joel’s eyes couldn’t meet hers. They were what? What happened? 

Lizzie glanced at Grian and Jimmy, who kept their heads low. Why was everyone acting so weird? Lizzie’s grip on Joel tightened as an air of silence washed over them. 

“Everyone was-.” 

His voice trailed off. Silence. If it weren’t for the birdsong outside, the silence would have been deafening. He didn’t finish his sentence. That only meant one thing, right? They were gone. Dead. Not in this world anymore. The last thing she did was be a disobedient child. She was the worst. Lizzie felt tears begin to well up in her eyes, her hands covered her face as she screamed. She screamed so loudly the brothers flinched, Lizzie’s chest heaving as she sobbed.

She wanted her parents.

She needed her parents.

This wasn’t fair.

Lizzie’s hands slumped on her sides as she laid on the bed. This can’t be real. She felt Joel hold her hand as he looked at her.

Joel rubbed his thumb over Lizzie’s hand as she gripped it tight. “But you survived. It’s… a lot to take in, but I promise, we’ll be there for you.” Joel looked back at her with a smile, tilting his head. 

Grian stood up from his chair, slamming his hands on the sheets, “We’ll find out what beast did it, and tear its heart out!” Grian’s enthusiasm for being a hunter was strong, surprising her now with how intense his gaze was, affirming his resolve. Maybe it was because his birth parents died, he felt something new towards Lizzie. She decided not to think about it. 

Jimmy placed a hand on her shoulder, “You need time to calm down, Liz. However long it takes, we’ll be there.” Jimmy was always the butt of the joke, always made dumb little quips, but he was an amazing friend. She was glad she met all of them. They were her best friends. She couldn’t imagine facing life without them. All of them.

Lizzie smiled, looking at all three as tears formed in her eyes, not of sadness, but relief, “...Thank you.” 

—————

She never did find out what beasts took her parents that day, but she would learn it eventually. Lizzie breathed the fresh salty air, it was just as she remembered. The waves rippled past the ship, birds called in the open air. All she needed now was time. Time to recover, time to heal. Time to figure out the rest of her life. She held the steering wheel firmly as she exhaled, closing her eyes. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and opened her eyes to see Joel with his hand on her shoulder, their engagement ring glistening in the sunlight.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, “Any attacks before we charter home?” She could see a glint in Joel’s eyes as he smirked.

Joel took his hand off of Lizzie’s shoulder and shoved it into his pocket, “Maybe. Let’s have one last hurrah before we head home, sounds good?” The mischievousness in his eyes faded as he tilted his head. Lizzie adored how much he cared about her. She’d be fine. She felt reassured with everyone on board supporting her recovery. She gave Joel a small kiss on the lips.

“Aye, captain. Love you.”

But maybe, maybe it was better to leave some mysteries unsolved.

#the sea prince au #sea prince chapters #limited life #limited life smp #life series #life smp #trafficblr #scott smajor #smajor1995 #dangthatsalongname #pearlescentmoon #lizzie ldshadowlady #ldshadowlady

[bbyquokka]

imagine felix laying on ur chest while u play with his soft hair and kiss his forehead bye its been on my mind all day i need someone to cuddle me😠😠🙁

summer luvin'

FLUFF BELOW CUT – MINORS, AGELESS & DEFAULT BLOGS; DNI

warnings: gn reader, established relationship, domesticated au, non-idol au, pet names. words: 0.9k ~ (902)

dont repost. dont translate. feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

the scorching hot sun beats down on your skin. the hot, suffocating air blows past you every now and then, the wind chimes singing with each hit of the humid wind.

the skies are clear, not a cloud in the sky to help provide some shade from the intense heat the sun is providing. you have done everything that needed to be done today so you're now taking the time to relax.

the only thing that needed to be done, was water the plants and freshly grown veg and fruits you and your significant other, felix, have decided to grow together to help reduce the cost of grocery shopping; even if it's just a little.

a pink and white plaid picnic blanket rubs against the skin of your arms and legs. the soft texture of the grass shifts around and rustles as you lean up on your elbows. you place one hand above your eyes to provide you some cover from the sun as you watch your lover water the strawberries and cucumbers.

blue denim shorts and green crocs accompany him. his blue hair pushed back with the help of a black headband, beads of sweat roll down his forehead and temples. his naked chest and torso on display as his skin is slowly turning from a tanned colour to bright, burning red.

“hey felix.” he looks at you as he holds the green watering can. “have you put on sun cream?”

felix pouts a little, looking around sheepishly before shrugging and giving you a cheeky smile. you sigh, shaking your head slowly as you sit up fully and grab the sun cream.

“c'mere.” felix finishes watering the plants before bouncing over to you. he takes of his crocs by wiggling his feet and legs before kneeling down on the blanket in front of you.

“lix, you're burning.” you frown.

“i thought i did put on suncream.” he pouts.

“it's the hottest day of the year darling. you have to be safe, especially when you're out.”

“oh, this is nothing! it's way hotter in australia.” he laughs.

“we are in australia.” you state as you squirt the cream onto the palm of your hand.

“oh.. right, yeah. ops.” felix laughs as you shake your head and rub your palms together.

“on your stomach. i'll put some cream on your back.” felix shuffles into his stomach, arms being used as supports for his head as he rests his cheeks on them. you rub the cream into his hot skin as you feel a tad worried about how red his skin is looking, making a mental note to by some aloe vera next time you're both out and about.

you rub the cream onto his back and the back of his legs before helping him in applying the cream on his chest, abs and arms. you apply some on his nose and cheeks.

“your freckles are so clear now.”

“they are?”

“yeah. the sun really helps bring them out. your whole face is decorated with freckles. it's the cutest thing i've seen.”

a pink blush rises to his cheeks to which you giggle at before stroking the blush. you gently kiss his cheek as felix hums softly.

“do we need to do anything else today?” he asks softly as he watches you reapply your own sun cream.

“i don't think so lix. i think we've doing everything today.”

“great!” your eyes widen as felix gently tackles you. you land on your back with a soft thump and grunt as felix nuzzles into your chest, his arm loosely draped over your stomach. once the initial shock of the sudden attack is over, do you smile and hold him close to you.

you both ignore the fact that you're two very hot people, skin sticking together as the heat from the sun and each other mixes and rises. sweat accumulates on both your foreheads, the feeling of stickiness and grossness rising; but you both ignore it.

you close your eyes slowly as you listen to the sounds of the birds singing their sweet and gentle tunes. the cheers and shouts of children playing in their back yards ringing in your ears before occasionally dying down to nothing but blissful silence.

you absentmindedly twist felix's blue hair around your finger, raking your fingers through it and massaging his scalp. he lets out soft and gently hums and groans as you occasionally kiss the top of his head.

soon, the heat of each other becomes too much. after minutes of being close to one another, does felix pull away slowly. he stands up and disappears into the kitchen. you hear the sound of water running and felix rummaging around in the cupboards.

you think nothing of it, thinking he was just preparing some food and drinks for you both, until you feel something wet explode onto your stomach causing you to shriek and bolt upright.

you look up at a mischievous looking felix. a couple of water balloons in his hands as a bucket of them is situated by his feet.

“oh! you're on, mr!” you laugh as you grab a balloon and instantly throw it at his torso.

“water balloon fight! looser has to cook dinner!” you shout as you rush to your feet, grabbing more balloons in your hands.

“oh, you're on yn! just know that i'm going to kick your ass.”

“in your dreams, felix!”

note: if its hot where you live, remember to stay hydrated, wear sun cream and dont stay out for too long!! stay safe everyone ☀

tags (open): @sstarryoong ; @oshimee ; @unh0ly-dr3am3r ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @telesvng

#[ anon. ] #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz soft hours #skz soft thoughts #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts #lee felix #felix #lee felix fluff #felix fluff #felix x you #felix x reader #lee felix x you #lee felix x reader #skz x you #skz x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: Day Seventeen

Prompt - hostage situation (#febuwhump)

TW: tied up, ropes, helpless, pirates, intimate Whumper, explosion, fighting, violence, mass killing implied

*~*~*~*~*

The sea was calm. The weather fair, the morning was yawning awake, blue skies rising with the sun, the dark blues disappearing beyond the horizon. It was a cycle of change that lay before his eyes, the fresh dew cast a mist on the water… and yet something, on the wind perhaps, was unsettling Locke as he maintained his chartered course. Something unexpected was turning with the tide, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

His first mate approached him, eyes on the horizon as they sailed at half-speed. “Admiral,” first mate said in greeting, the lilt of a question hanging off the last syllable.

“Do you feel the shift in the dew, first mate?”

First mate followed Locke’s line of sight to the lazily rising sun. “No, Admiral. However, that is not my station.”

“What is your station, mate?”

“To ensure you’re ship shape, Admiral,” said First Mate with a cheeky grin. “I trust your instincts; I would sail into hell if you ordered me too and recruit the best dead sailors of the underworld to navigate us to the living one again.”

Admiral laughed, a smile appearing on his face at Mate’s words.

“And what do your instincts say today, Admiral?” Mate asked.

“That we need to fly at full speed and reach the next port before this ill-begotten wind is at our backs.”

“Sir,” said first mate with a nod. First mate walked promptly down the steps of the ship onto the poop deck and let out an unmerciful commanding shout that could wake the dead. “Make-Ready Men!”

There was a ruckus below deck, a few curses and sudden thumps from the crew waking to the sound of First mate’s bellows.

“Heave the sails to full speed!”

Admiral laughed again when First mate turned to look at him over their shoulder, dark eyes bright with mischief. Then First mate’s eyes widened as they stared passed Locke to something behind him. Locke turned too.

A black ship twice the size of Admiral’s was on them, which had not been there a mere moment before. “Admiral!”

First mate yelled and Admiral heard sudden panicked footsteps run towards him as a chord of rope enveloped him, binding his arms to his sides with one unmerciful pull and lifting him from his own ship. Admiral gasped as the rope closed tighter and tighter around him the more he struggled. His feet left the deck of his ship, his eyes on First Mate who was standing where Locke was not a moment ago, reaching up desperately trying to catch Locke before he was completely out of reach.

First mate’s fingers brushed Locke’s ankle devastatingly close before Locke was hoisted up like one of his sails away from his ship and impossibly high above it like God himself was pulling Locke to the heavens.

Were it not for the chants of “heave! Heave! Heave!” Locke would have thought he was dead. If not for the riotous laughter as Locke was hoisted higher only tightened a knot of anxiety in his gut until he was above the other vessel, black planks below him and a man in a white shirt with red hair grinning up at him deviously.

Locke swallowed as he gazed down at the ship. No uniforms, no colours of their allegiance and the black finish of the deck… Locke had only heard rumours of this monster that haunted the seven seas.

Locke was lowered precariously to the deck of the ship, his legs like jelly under him when they hit the ground. The red-haired man laughed when Locke’s knees buckled and he fell to the deck, unable to catch himself.

“We went fishing lads, yet it seems we caught ourselves a landlubber,” the red-haired man proclaimed. More jeering laughter followed as the red-haired man spread his arms to his adoring crowd, turning his back slightly to Admiral. Admiral grit his teeth as he got a leg under him and pushed himself up.

He didn’t make it to one knee with a sword at his throat. His eyes widened at the glinting metal, the same black as the ship – a metal Locke had never set his eyes on before. The red-haired man’s eyes narrowed into a sharper point than the blade.

“I wouldn’t get brave now, fishbait.”

“Let go of me!” Locke demanded hotly. “Perhaps we can write this off as a misunderstanding.”

“Oh,” the red-haired man hummed, turning his body back to Admiral. “I don’t like threats, especially not ones made aboard my own ship, fishbait.”

“What a coincidence,” said Admiral tightly. “I don’t like being hoisted from my own. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

The ropes tightened harshly around Admiral, stealing the breath from his lungs as the red-haired man stepped in, the captain of this ship no doubt… why was his name eluding Locke right now? He should know the name!

His smile was wicked and reckless. “Aye. Mayhaps we can.”

“Captain!” One of the pirate’s crew called. Captain, so Admiral was right. The red-haired man lifted his head and the pirate continued. “They’re preparing for a fight.”

Captain smiled down at Admiral. “Your men are loyal, Admiral,” Captain said, slightly impressed. Admiral frowned at him as someone grabbed Admiral’s arms and wrestled them behind him, before tying them off behind his back. Admiral pulled at the ropes, but they were so tight he could feel his pulse beating below the ropes.

“We can part peacefully, Captain,” said Admiral diplomatically. “Release me and let me return to my ship and my crew. We have no quarrel with you.”

The red-haired man grinned. Someone handed him the loose rope that was attached to Locke which Captain wrapped tightly around his hand and used it to pull Locke to his feet. Locke’s eyes widened as the Captain gave another harsh tug and yanked Locke closer, stumbling into Captain’s chest.

“Who said there must be a quarrel?” Captain said with a smile as he watched the realisation flood Locke’s face. Then Captain gave his order: “strike their colours, lads!”

Admiral lurched forward, panic seizing his limbs as he let out a sharp: “no!”

“Hush, now, Admiral, and be a good little hostage. I’ll get you accustomed to the mast, shall I?” Admiral fought him the entire way, but the Captain pulled him along anyway, looking over his shoulder to chat idly with him. "I must say, Admiral, it is a good day to see Kings men fight with loyalty for their captain. You'd be surprised how often men readily give up their captain for their lives."

"We can trade, Captain, please, there need not be blood!"

The red-haired man laughed, throwing his head back and mouth open wide staring at the sky with a hearty chuckle.

"Perhaps we are alike, Captain, you and I. We are sharks," said the pirate, yanking Admiral forward with a hand in his shirt and with a twist of his hips he slammed Admiral back against the central mast, knocking the breath from his lungs. "We both smell the blood in the water."

Captain smiled as he handed the rope to someone behind Admiral. Admiral felt the ropes tighten around him, locking his arms even tighter to his sides until there was no leverage at all for him to move. He felt the wood against his hands that were trapped uselessly behind him, and he wanted to curse and scream at the grinning pirate.

Locke froze as the captain placed a hand on the mast and leaned in, smiling at the Admiral, barely an inch between their noses. The pirate didn't smell bad, he smelled like sweet rum and salt water, but Locke scrunched his nose up all the same.

"What is your name, Admiral?” Captain asked with a dashing smile. “Just so I can properly threaten your life to your men."

"I'll tell you once you walk the plank, Captain," Locke snarled, baring his teeth at the pirate. Captain smiled and shrugged.

"Fine,” Captain said as he leaned away from Locke, the glimmer of something mischievous in his eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to wrangle it out of that spiffing first mate of yours instead.”

Admiral jerked forward, but he didn’t get very far, the ropes holding him back to the mast. “Don’t touch them!” Admiral barked.

“Sorry, Admiral,” said Captain with a forced sigh, pulling his revolver from his belt and checking to see if the gunpowder was loaded before drawing the hammer back to the full cocked position. “Loot to plunder, sailors to threaten, I have a busy schedule. Sit tight gorgeous, I’ll be back.”

Captain snapped the into place and offered Admiral a wide smile and a wink before he disappeared. “Captain! Captain wait!”

Admiral screamed after him, but over the sounds of swords clashing and gunpowder his screams just joined the sea of noise. Captain struggled in the ropes, trying to find any leverage to squeeze under or shrug over but it was no use. The rope dug so tight into Locke’s diaphragm that he could barely breathe. He knew there was going to be a ring of bruises there after he got free.

These men… Captain’s men weren’t ordinary pirates, they had an easiness to them, a regiment that reminded Admiral of his own ship’s crews and ranks. Ordinary pirates are usually not worth their salt, and yet… something in the back to Admiral’s mind told him that he knew — or should know — the Captain that currently kept him captive.

The fighting lasted until the sun was above the horizon, shimmering on the waters as the smoke cleared from between the two ships.

Another pirate came to Admiral and cut the ropes tying him to the mast. Before Admiral could ask what they were doing, the pirate yanked him forward, grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and pushed him towards the gangplank between both ships.

“Now then!” Captain said, his mirthful voice carrying over the ships with relaxed ease. “We have your captain, sailors. Your beloved Admiral Locke,” said Captain, sending a flash of his teeth to Locke. Admiral searched the poop deck for his first mate and found them in the arms of two of Captain’s men, blood streaming down their face from their forehead and nose. A bruise crowning on his cheek, his officer jacket tore.

Captain turned to Locke then, still aboard Captain’s ship. Admiral glared down at him. “The choice is yours, Admiral. Your men fought for you, will you fight for your men?”

Admiral frowned. “What?”

“I offer you the choice— would you fight—”

“Yes!” Admiral yelled, taking a step forward but he was yanked back. His heart pounding in his ears.

“Two streams of loyalty,” Captain mused. His boots hitting Locke’s deck towards first mate. Every step resounded in Admiral’s heart thudding in his chest.

“Hey! Get away from them!” Locke growled, struggles renewed as he tried his damned hardest to get to Captain and shove him away from First mate. “Captain! Captain please!”

Captain ran a hand through First Mate’s hair and yanked their head up to face Locke aboard Captain’s ship. Captain smiled, his eyes sharp.

“I offer you the choice, Admiral,” said Captain again. “Your ship and your crew, or First mate.”

Admiral blinked, something horrid settling into his gut as First Mate struggled in the pirates’ hold. The pirates wrestled First mate back into submission, Captain never taking his eyes from Locke.

“What?” Admiral breathed, too quiet for Captain to hear, but it was as if Captain heard, because he continued his torturous ultimatum with a grin.

“Your ship. Your men, your crew, your rank as Admiral, your flag, your country, your uniform,” said Captain, turning to face First mate and grabbing First mate’s chin between his fingers. “Or your first mate.”

“Admiral!” One of the sailors cried. Admiral’s dragged his eyes away from Captain to his navigator, struggling against a pirate. “That would be treason! You can’t!”

“That is my offer,” said Captain nonchalantly, capturing Locke’s attention again. “Treason and love? Or service and duty.”

“Go to hell,” First mate rasped. Captain shook his head and clicked his fingers. One the pirates holding First mate brought a cloth forward and wrestled it between their teeth. Captain waved his finger in front of First mate’s face and booped their nose. “Good little hostages don’t speak, First mate.”

First mate glared at Captain as the gag cut into their cheeks, mumbling incoherent curses at Captain behind it.

Meanwhile Locke was rooted to the spot, stunned at the awful choice that stood in front of them. It wasn’t the choice was difficult, Locke had already decided, the decision was made long ago, but… the ramifications of voicing it seemed too horrible to think.

First mate caught his conflicted eyes and shook their head softly. Admiral’s heart lurched in his chest because they knew, the pair of them knew what way the situation was going to unfold. The guilt before the decision was threatening to overwhelm them both and Locke hadn’t even said a word yet!

Captain noticed too, looking up at Locke. “Will you leave us in suspense, Admiral? Are we but fishes on your hook? Or are you waiting for the next bell to sound, hmm? Tick tock goes the tide, and with it comes the weather.”

Admiral felt all eyes turn on him, the weight of them threatening to drown him out of water.

“Admiral,” Captain hummed and yanked First Mate’s head up by the hair. First mate let out a muffled protest, fighting against him. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

“First mate,” Admiral whispered.

Captain paused. Then he turned, eyes bright like a cats. “What was that, Admiral?”

Locke cleared his throat and avoided the eyes of his crew. “I choose treason. I choose my first mate.”

“For shame!” His crew cried but Locke didn’t care. His gaze was fixed on First Mate who was shaking like a leaf. Captain released First mate’s hair and clapped his hands together.

“Wonderful!” Captain said. “Please, bring First Mate aboard the Fallen Marauder, lads.”

Admiral stilled.

The Fallen Marauder, there’s no way that Locke was standing on the Fallen Marauder. Aside from the fact that it was a fiction, a fairytale, Admiral should be on his ship with his crew.

“Wait, what? I thought you would let us go.”

Captain grinned, “oh Admiral… how naïve.”

First mate was struggling against the pirates as they dragged them across the gangplank to the Captain’s ship. Admiral turned to First mate, but he was turned again, forced to face forward.

“Wait, Captain! What are you doing?” Admiral demanded as he saw a barrel of gunpowder being scattered over the deck.

“You chose, Admiral,” said Captain, walking across the gangplank after his men and came to stand beside Admiral. “You chose first mate, didn’t you?”

Admiral’s eyes were wide with fear. “Don’t. Don’t do this there are good men on that ship!”

“Good men you abandoned,” said Captain softly. “A ship without a captain is doomed.”

“They can make another captain!” Admiral cried as the Captain’s men pulled the gangplank away from the ship. “Please!”

“What do you care for a King’s ship? You have no country now, no loyalties to this endeavour. Now you are one of us, Admiral…” said Captain, then his head dipped, a conspiratorial smile gracing his face. “Or should I say, more accurately, Locke?”

Locke’s eyes went wide. That… Captain wasn’t wrong but Locke, he didn’t… he— his eyes searched the waters as his ship slipped further and further away from him, his men and crew wailing and crying and screaming.

Captain raised an arm. “Captain please,” Locke begged.

Captain dropped his arm. A cannonball fired and Locke stood frozen as he watched his ship go up in smoke. He sucked in a gasp as the air was ripped from his chest in shock. The planks bent and snapped and flew over the sea in a two metre radius of the ship.

“Welcome aboard the Fallen Marauder,” said Captain with a deep bow, dipping low. He tilted his head up as he introduced himself to the shaking Adm – former admiral. “My name is Captain Marlowe.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhump17 #febuwhump day 17 #febuwhump day seventeen #febuwhump prompt #febuwhump prompts #pirates #pirate Whump #pirate Whump writing #pirate x admiral #admiral x first mate #pirate ship #pirate captain #pirate captain Whumper #pirate Whumper #sailor Whumpee #first mate Whumpee #you don’t know #how much research #I did for this silly #little pirate whump story #gods #i am so happy it is finished #flintlock pistols? #ingenious invention #before it’s time #wow #whump writing #orphan writing

[salmonight]

Free Title Ideas Pt. 1

I am always looking for new title ideas trying to find the perfect match for my meager amount of fics actually published ( I got a ton of wips mind you) so I have this little file full with title ideas I got from here and there and I thought I share them! Feel free to use them and all! I only actually used a few of them myself so theyre up for the take! Enjoy!

( I suck at categorizing mind u so take it however u want)

Low Mood:

Paint Splattered Teardrops

A Mournful Radio Song

The Quite Ivories

20 Minute Too Long… Too Late-

No Third Round Up

My Heart's An Artifice, A Decoy Soul

If These Walls Could Talk

Like Drying Paint on the Walls

Withering Memories

Bury Our Secrets Shallow

Isn't It Tragic How Far You Came?

The Best of the Worsts

Your Wings Are Failing, Icarus

Let Your Wings Carry You Away From Here

Cry For Reflection

The Scream of Winter

Much Madness in Divinest Sense

Family Doesn't End in Blood

In This Castle Of Glass

All the Same (Once a Liar, Always a Liar)

Crack:

Law is Where You Buy It

Miles from Normal

Stop Screaming - It's Me

Between Two Liars…

Lost My Soul and All I Got Was this T-Shirt

Dude, Where's My Soul?

When Life Hands You Demons Make Demonade

Demon-Blend Straigh From Hell

Nothing to See Here Officer, Just a Bunch of Blobs

Hey Kid, Wanna Buy a Blob Ghost?

Gingers Have No Souls

This Little Blob of Mine

Feral Goose Hunting: A Beginner's Guide (Just Don't)

10 Ways to Connect with Your Feral Goose by Robin

A Guide on Ruining Your Life

It IS and Idea (Just NOT the Brightest)

I Am totally NOT the One to Blame for THIS

Dead Men Won't Shut Up

Encryptid

Cryptid Crash Course

Shakespeare Has Nothing on Me!

[insert name]'s Observation Diary of the Weirdest Boss(es)

The Devil’s Eyes and His Voice of Reason

Romance:

Makeshift Chemistry

Stargazing, Coffee and the Mystery of You..

Play Love Like Killers (We All Fall)

Good Vibes:

Sunshine Riptide

Come on Baby, the Laugh Is on Me

Fair With Some Rain

Star Light, Star Bright, First Arrow I See Tonight

Bitter (?):

Ah, Lay Waste to it, then Laugh at it

Believe, We Were Never Gonna Lose Control

Die, but too Blind to See

Too Latte for Smiling (yes thats a pun there no miss typing)

And as the Scribe Said, Mark Me Up With Words

Vodka Shots in the Dark

What Lingers, What Waits

Dr.Sunshine is Dead

Action:

Swing 'em Sword, Comin' in Swarms

Droppin' Guns all on the Floor 'till it look like River Styx

Black on Black at Night

Rifles, and they're Useless in this House

Dropp the Dagger

Watch Us BURN

Death:

Leave Your Body and Soul at the Door

Dead Man's Party

'Till the Reaper Call

'cause the Hangman's Waiting

A Night in the Ice Box

Stars Fall Underground

Can't Reach the Stars from the Underworld

Dance on Your Grave in All Whites

I Will See You Down Below

A Toast to the Passing Lights

I am a Ghost, but Only If You Remember

A Forray into Thanatology

Do You Want to Build a Snow-ghost?

In the In Between

Deceased When Last Seen

They Only Murdered Him Once

Colder Than These Bones

A Ghostly Collection of Stories once Untold

Dearly Departed

Hopeful:

City of Last Hopes

Bright Foggy Skies

This Bird Has Flown

A Bard's Tale, so Bittersweet

In the Winter, the Van Keeps Rolling

Oh Raven (Sing Me a Happy Song)

A Light to Call Home

Lost and Found

Towards the Sun

Khmm I have quite a few ghost/death and Dc related ones cuz I mostly wrote DC and DP fics so I looked for tittles for those. Those who know, know those who don't can ignore them.

Pt 2 |

#writing #writing resources #free to use #free title ideas #title ideas #book title ideas #fanfic title ideas #crack title ideas #angst title ideas #title list #title suggestions #titles #story titles #fanfic titles #fic titles #crack titles #angst titles

[writermask-0807-backupblog]

TOSHINORI YAGI X READER {TRISTIS OCULIS." or: "YOU HAVE SAD EYES," }

A/N: It's Writermask, and it's my first post as the ✨BaCkUp bLoG✨!!! I officially got permission by Mod Eve (once-upon-a-scenario, you should really check them out if u already don't follow them), and am so happy!!! 😊this is a new writing s t y l e I've tried, and I hope u enjoy!!

Warnings: ooc Toshinori, mentions of blood, implications of abuse and depression.

HIS eyes are blue. 

They're the most bluest you've ever seen- bright, bright sapphire hues, the rich spill of azure and cerulean over the black of the canvas, a slice of cloudless skies, the crystalline haze of the ocean. 

And because you can recognize and dissect the character of a person through the shapes and colors of their eyes, (you know that sounds weird, and vaguely disturbing, even inside your head)- you know his eyes are the eyes of someone trustworthy, the eyes of a caring, friendly person- not the usually jaded, maybe even angry individual you usually encounter on these late night shifts.

(It's… refreshing, in a sense. Sort of, anyway. At least he's not glaring at you, impatiently grinding his teeth as you check his things out, or radiating the stifling aura of someone intimidating and not to be trifled with (like that Yakuza man with the cold, golden eyes that you met last week, but you digress), like the usual pew of customers that trickle in at this time of the night. 

Instead, this man just looks… incredibly tired even as he manages a polite, feeble smile for you, and his skinny, frail-looking frame slumps with fatigue, like he's particularly world-weary today- as though the weight of the world is resting on his shoulders, heavy with a burden no-one but himself could possibly bear. 

There are purple shadows under his eyes, and his cheeks are sunken in, and there's a certain hollowness to the way his sunflower-hued bangs veils his thin, tired face, a certain resignation to the way the sharp planes of his shoulders are hunched together, as he droops tiredly, looking like he's about to black out at any given moment.) 

His eyes- those bright forget-me-not blues- they're the eyes of someone bright and cheerful (just… not right now), the eyes of a soft, caring person. They hold true kindness in them- the rare sort of kindness that's genuinely heartfelt, and you can already tell that this tall, lanky skeleton of a man has a big, big heart, and honestly, you have a shrewd feeling that he offers this silent gift of kindness- this unaffordable, rich gift of anyone and everyone who needs it. 

And without even knowing this stranger, you just know he's the type of person who'd make a good hero. (Or maybe, the sort of person who's already a great hero, in his own way.) But despite all that, you glimpse something below that bottomless blue of his empty gaze, something hollow and empty, almost like… 

Melancholy. Loneliness. Sadness. 

And it’s contagious, somehow, in some way or another, and your heart aches for him- because you know that feeling all too well to not be acquainted with its presence, to the agony and inner turmoil that ensues with its touch. 

The wilting look of frailty, of fragility in his lowered eyes reminds you of your own dark days- (of spending time curled in on yourself, of the constant hunger roaring through your stomach, of the gaping void of loss in your heart, the wet feel of metal flooding your mouth, of screaming and screaming and screaming for a help that never came-!) 

You blink back the sudden bitter sting of memories flooding your mind, and you stare absently at him- at this poor, broken ghost of a man and wonder if this is how you once looked- once upon a time when you lost everything and everyone and had no more purpose to live, and his items suddenly goes limp in your hand as you lower them to the surface of the counter. The words spill out before you can stop them- hold them back, and for some reason, they taste sour on your tongue as you unconsciously murmur them out loud. 

"Tristis Oculis."

The blonde startles at the sound of your voice slicing the silence apart, as though he's forgotten your presence for a moment, and then he straightens immediately, hands clenching into fists at his sides, as he goes stiff-shouldered and rigid-spined, like he's ready to be attacked. Despite the cordial smile that's still twisting his thin lips as he realizes there's only you- the entranced cashier behind the counter, there's a wary look in those tundra blue eyes as he tiredly meets your flustered gaze, but there's also confusion veiled behind the fatigue, curiosity laced behind the wariness. 

"Sorry?"

He asks mildly, and you falter, breath hitching in your chest, eyes widening in absolute horror, as you realize that you've just voiced your musings aloud, and you slap your exasperated palms over your mouth, petrified at your blunder. 

Pure and absolute mortification and embarrassment dawns on you as you realize what you'd just spoken, and you bow immediately, a hurricane of apologies falling uncontrollably from your lips, as shame weighs heavily in your chest, accompanied by the familiar stitch of gnawing guilt knitting your insides together into an uncomfortable, anxiety-induced bunch. You can feel heat rush to your face as your cheeks ignite in a wild, brilliant shade of ashamed scarlet. 

You truly are sorry sorry sorry, you really hadn't meant to offend him any sort of way, you hadn't even meant to mutter that phrase aloud, you just-... You're awkward, and not really good at this, and you're deeply sorry, you really are. Sorry sorry sorry. 

You tell him as much, your arm flailing about in wild, panicked gestures as you scrabble to bow even more deeply for apology, and you're pretty sure you've confused the poor man even more, as now he's blushing heavily too, wheezing something along the lines of "No, no, there's no need to apologize, really, it's fine!" as he forces a strained, awkward smile for your sake- an effort that doesn't go unnoticed by you, despite the terror clutching at your chest and the panic flooding your veins. 

(Really, he's too kind-hearted.)

"But really, what did you mean by that phrase? I'm not… exactly familiar with it. "

The man says, when your panic finally dies down and all formal apologies has been exchanged between the somewhat exasperated him and your horrified self, tilting his head curiously, the corners of his mouth dipping down in a small, curious frown, and despite the blush of embarrassment coloring the apples of your cheeks, you can't help but compare him to an eager puppy. An eager, adorable puppy. 

As soon as the thought forms, you snuff it out defiantly, cheeks are flaming even brighter at the- the audacity of it! He's your customer, for God's sake! 

(But really, overlooking the momentarily halted drowsiness in his lanky, skeletal limbs, the fatigue sagging his shoulders and tiredness creasing his gaunt face, he really looks… cute. Not that he doesn't look cute regardless, but that's not the point!) 

You startle nervously when you realize he's still looking at you, with those intensely blue, blue eyes, steady gaze a relentless blizzard, and you wring your hands together in a nervous tick as you begin to explain your… strangeness. 

"T-tristis Oculis. It's um," You smile awkwardly at him, hoping to ease the storm of tension rolling thickly through the atmosphere, (that apparently only you seemed to detect, as the blonde seemed too preoccupied with searching your eyes for an answer.) "It's a- um, a Latin saying. It, uh, it means sad eyes." 

You answer, stuttering around the dryness in your mouth, and you tongue feels like a heavy, unmoving weight in your mouth as you reply, fingers flexing tightly as you fist the fabric of your shirt in your clenched palms, to soothe your forever worsening anxiety, and you can feel the flush on your cheeks sear even hotter.

He stays silent, unreadable, (you get the feeling that he's normally a very expressive person, but just… not right now. Maybe you hit a nerve, or finally offended him in some way?) and you begin to panic once more. You fumble to say something, to break the awkward, heavy silence but you fail for the proper words as your mind blanks of all coherent thoughts, meek voice withering at the back of your throat as you desperately try to breathe around the knot of panic squeezing your chest, and your heart lodges in your throat, hammering wildly. 

Before you can say anything, however, he speaks first, shattering the pregnant silence, and his voice is an incredibly, deceptively soft whisper, like he's on the verge of breaking down. 

"How do you perceive my eyes as sad?"

His cobalt gaze is steady and hard- unlike the barely concealed tremors in his voice, and it pierces right through you, and as you try your very best not to shrink and fidget under the heavy weight of his gaze, you get washed by a sudden, strange sensation that feels odd in the most strangest of ways- like he's peering right into your soul. 

(But despite the firmness in his stare, you see the minute shifts, see the way he falters, the smallest of breaths hitching in his chest, the slight widening of those powder blue eyes, the edges of darkness licking at his vision. Honestly, it's tragic, in a sense, because it's like looking into a shattered mirror and seeing what had once been yourself.) 

Your heart stutters and throttles in your heaving chest, and you swallow thickly, unsure as to how to answer properly, feeling as though you're treading on very thin ice. It doesn't feel like he’s going to hurt you, however. More like how you were going to hurt him, instead. 

You're seized by a sudden melancholy, somber feeling, and you feel the embarrassment ebbing away as you meet the crystal blue of his gaze, and you feel like you're sharing something of a very private, intimate moment, despite both of you barely knowing each other at all.

You decide not to lie. This moment feels too intimate, too precious for you to do so. 

The truth is heavy and bittersweet on your tongue as you voice it aloud, and there's still a bashfulness in the way you fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you reply, cheeks flooding with crimson. (You're pretty sure you resemble nothing short of a very red tomato at this point.)

There's a note of strength, a wavering finality in your tone, however- one that leaves no room for argument. 

"You- your eyes looked sad. And I- I know it's probably offensive and probably not my place, but, um, you look like someone that's normally really happy and bright, but- just, just very tired right now. Like you're afraid and broken and you want to be helped, but there's no-one for you to call out for… "

And indeed, despite the genuine friendliness and kindness and care that's thinly veiled behind the tire brimming in the ocean blue of his gaze, he has the saddest eyes you've ever seen- like he's breathed the air of war, tasted the bitterness of death and rot- like he's lost too many people and he's afraid and too broken to lose anymore. 

(Like he's been strong for too long.) 

(There's something unsaid crossing your tongue, and despite the fact that you don't speak it out loud, you know the both of you can hear it's silent voice- because you're both survivors, and you both can recognize and understand each other's pain, hear the desperation better than anyone else ever will. 

"I know that look, because I've been there before- in that dark, dreary place you're in right now.") 

When you finally muster enough strength to raise your heavy gaze and meet his blistering stare (it's softened considerably), there's a pearlescent liquid collecting at the corners of his eyes, something raw and painful and filled with pure, unadulterated hurt smoldering in his eyes, and it makes your own eyes water with white-hot emotion.

(Because you know exactly how this feels- know how much relief and liberation fills you when someone recognizes your torment and offers help- no matter how meager it is, when your cracks are allowed to mend, when the agony lessens even if it is only by the mercy of some kind words and a gentle smile.)

And as the late evening light of the dying sun spills through the windows, the filter of waning sunlight silhouettes his sharp, lanky (not-so-stiff) profile in spools of molten gold and honey, highlighting the honeycomb color of his wild, wild mane of a hair, and his eyes, those bright, bright sapphire hues gleam like freshly cut gemstones, forget-me-not blues so very vivid and glimmering with a renewed  color and life that wasn't there before. 

He's smiling through the tears as he lifts a palm to rub at the corners of his eyes, and it's a tender, soft sort of smile, not quite as bright and cheerful as he might've wanted it to be, all sweet and appreciative and gentle as the corners of his eyes crease into half-moons with the force of it. 

(And your heart skips a beat as it lurches forward in your chest, and your breath halts, sitting still in your lungs, and your eyes widen, because his smile is so, so beautiful.) 

You suddenly realize that nobody else has noticed his pain, tried to heal his hurt the way you have, and the revelation makes your own heart ache for him in the most bittersweetest of ways, and you welcome the pain that follows. 

"And the part- the part where you said I'd make a good hero?" 

He asks, and there's sort of a hesitation- a tone of rippling hope and childish innocence in his voice that would make anyone buckle at the knees and coo at him, and you feel your cheeks flush scarlet once again. Had you mentioned that part out loud too? Gosh, you're really awkward, aren't you?

His eyes are blue, and they're brimming with a sort of childish inquisition and the rim of tears and hope that you absolutely cannot bear to crush. 

So- bearing your broadest, most brightest grin, you answer honestly, and you can't help but love the way those deep forget-me-not blues seem to light up from the inside out. 

"I fully believe it."

{BONUS}:-

(And maybe, you'll never learn the secret that the man you would come to know as Toshinori Yagi, and eventually to your best friend and then to your lover, was really the Number One Hero All Might himself, and that on that day, and many days after that, you would be his hero- the person who'd seen him at his lowest and help him climb back onto his feet once again.) 

FIN - 

#toshinori yagi x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi x you #Toshinori yagi x y/n #All might #Small might #All might x reader #Reader x Toshinori yagi #Reader x all might #bnha x reader #My hero academia #Mha #Ooc all might #A sprinkle of angst and fluff #Mainly fluff #boku no academia #Writermaskwrites #I'm back Tumblr #I hope my followers see this #New writing style

[bloodmoonsrevenge]

doodle of errink for a lil drabble below. would be coloured if i had my tablet, but i lost my pen </3 lore out of my god alternate multiverse, where many are considered gods or demigods (eg. cross is the demigod of chaos/vengeance). // Error; He who is called finally answers. In an act of pettiness and revenge against him, one of Nightmare's subordinates had touched him. Frankly, Error had been standing quietly, waiting for Nightmare to finish his short rant about Dream and his ilk. After eons of this fighting, it was old, but this took the cake for stirring shit that didn't need to be stirred. Thanks to Error's broken, fractured core-code, when Soul-bound beings touched him, it ruptured. The code sought to be complete, seeking each exit rabidly, and thus caused mass amount of pain when he was touched by them. The fact that he can't remember who touched him was startling. As he comes to consciousness from the rather violent reboot, staring into the abyssal galactic skies of Outertale, faint blobs and shapes were settled close to him. Long, nimble fingers stained with black ink gently passed over his brow line just before rounded glasses were settled back on his features. Only Souled beings caused him agony. Familiar, bright shapes greet him, a flash of relief somewhere in the faintly blue-yellow star and circle. "There he is." Ink smirks down at Error and the God of Destruction rolls his eye-lights. Ink's talons are slowly passing over his back, helping him to sit back up. His limbs were heavy, and he felt sick. Crashes had gotten so, so much worse over the past hundred and some years. "Are you okay? Seemed like a, ah... pretty bad crash." The comment is cool coming out of Ink, impersonal and distant, but Error knows better. He watches the shapes change in Ink's sockets, fluttering with brief bouts of concern and worry. For such a Soulless being, his capacity for intelligent emotion was wildly more than many gave him credit for. "f-fUckIn fIne, sqUid." Error shifts, letting one of his hands raise to look at the phalanges. Thick, coiling claws are covered in rupturing code, flickering with ERROR signals and thin white lines. "Th- hEy'rE gETtinG woRSe." He murmurs, feeling Ink's talons slowly wrap around his wrist. Impassive, Ink's gaze lingers on Error's features the most. Despite it all, Error is glad he came. As much as he hates (loves?) him, the squid had been with him through more than he cared to remember. Ink makes a soft humming, brushing his thumb across Error's ulna. The motion of comfort does wonders for his broken, sharded Soul. A tiny, scribbly heart makes up his eye-light before he blinks it away. One day he'd tell him. Not today. The stars glitter above them, uncaring and free, and in envy, he wishes he was too. Ink belongs to Comyet Error belongs to Crayon-Queen I ask that my work is not reposted/used without permission. re-blogging is fine, thank you.

#error sans #ink sans #errink #short blurb #art #i wish i could find my fucking pencil for my tablet #undertale #i have so much lore behind this post its not even funny #god alternate multiverse #all the sanses are demigods or gods in their own ways #writing #im shit at tags sorry guys

[wispstalk]

bruma vignettes

Bruma in spring: The roads, clear of snow for the first time in months, offer no easy passing. The forested slopes soak up meltwater; the roads turn to mush, rutted deep with wagon-tracks, the movement of herds to fresh pastures where the grass bursts from the sleeping soil.

The Hero of Kvatch and his apprentice go out ranging. Looking for sinister signs among this flurry of movement: reddening skies, whiffs of sulfur. Combing the wilderness for arches of black stone, witnessed only by themselves and the hawks. One erupts from the spongy ground of a pristine glade, turning it hard and cracked and burnt. Sparrows and stags and pine martens flee. The two hunters enter.

After the gate falls, the Hero of Kvatch stalks back to the trail. No one is faster than his apprentice, but his long legs outpace her. Absorbed in his brooding, he vanishes around the hairpin turns that snap back and forth across the mountain.

She finds him waiting for her on a rocky ledge that punches a gap in the masses of trees. A nice view of the valley below. He’s chewing something. Holds out his hand: a spruce tip, such a bright green it seems to glow with reckless optimism.

For fending off scurvy and spring sicknesses, he tells her. That is the lens through which he sees the world: its ailments. He sets about filling his hip pouch with the buds, claims it makes a pleasant tea. Raw and fresh, the initial taste is bitter, the texture like soft caterpillar legs dancing over her tongue. She almost spits it out. Endures. Savors the reward of subtle earth and spice that lingers in her mouth, all the way to the temple.

—

Bruma in summer: Sweltering days giving way to cool nights. No one quite knows how to dress themselves. Pile on layers, peel them off, odd assemblies of thick woolen shawls and trousers hacked off at the knee. Sticky, fragrant shade beneath the bowed branches of the laurels; sere fields and pastures where they have been cleared away. The sun makes lazy exits and the markets become livelier in the evenings once the breeze kicks up. Music and chatter drifting from tavern doors, flung open wide.

—

Bruma in autumn: A storm surges up from the balmy Abecean. The Jeralls turn their backs and let it blow itself out. Pounding rain recruits cold and wind on its way north, turns to hail: the lash of Kynareth or a tribute to the stone.

Down in the foothills, the trees throw out one last defiant burst of color. Clad like festival dancers, they form a circle around the valley with all its smoking chimneys, a sort of reverse bonfire. They shed their red and gold finery in tantalizing pieces. Naked grey branches, stoic in the wake of their revels, keep weary watch over the houses nestled in the cradle of the mountains.

Peer through the windows of those houses, glowing gold with lantern-light. See that there are harvests on the tables within, despite everything.

—

Bruma in winter: There is a path, hidden by hemlock branches and the bare skeletons of wormwood, that carves its way into the sky. Now it is so clogged with snow that those who walk it must wear bearpaws of bent willow and tie trailing sprays of pine to their packs to mask their footsteps.

When the snow-haze lifts, the temple in the sky can almost be seen. A determined eye might catch a rocky ledge where the shapes are a bit too regular. The temple meets that gaze with indifference: any challenger must first survive the climb.

Within Cloud Ruler, there is safety and boredom. The Blades spread crushed rock on the icy battlements, in part to make their patrols less perilous, and in part for something to do. The heir to the throne is a fixture in the great hall. His eyes grow shadowy as the long nights, his hands stain with ink, the cedar smoke of the hearth sinks into his hair and the roughness of his rare-used voice.

He realizes that it has been days, or weeks, or— some time since he has been out to greet the sun. Its wan light feels like a cruel mirror. But he goes around gathering up armor against the biting wind: a shirt that smells of a friend, smoke and sweat and horse and iron. A bearskin coat over that, and an old worn blanket of checked wool.

His slippered feet are unsteady on the hard-packed ice despite the gravel. He makes it to the battlements, stares down at the expanse of grey and white that yawns beneath him. Snaps an icicle the length of his arm off the ledge of the wall. Holds it up, considers the way it gathers up enough wan light to glitter.

He hucks it, like a spear, at a crooked spruce that clings to the downslope. The tree shudders and drops its burden of snow. The shatter and soft thump are amplified, bouncing off rock faces, and a patch of snow shifts and slides until it comes to rest against a boulder.

He lets out a soft curse and a laugh. Careless. Petulant. All the snow that mantles these moutains could be brought down, perhaps by a shout of anguish or frustration or sheer bafflement. The heir to the empire has had enough of inviting catastrophe. He knows how to take pleasure in a little peace and quiet.

White peaks scrape holes in a matching sky and vanish into them. These austere mountains have borne the cold for countless turns of the season, before there were people to do any counting. They will weather more yet.

#trying to get out of these characters heads a bit and failing lol #i just CANNOT purge oblivion from my system i need to be leeched #tes oblivion #martin septim #hero of kvatch #oc: tanis #oc: coradri #ray writes

[mariharem-trash-heap]

Talk Her Down

The inevitable seems to have finally happened: Marinette gets akumatized after a friend gets hurt in the crossfire between her and Lila - and it’s up to her friends and classmates to do what they can to calm her down before Ladybug can purify her akuma.

Notes:

I really, really love the trope of “this isn’t you, I know you’re in there, let me talk you down”. ESPECIALLY when it’s between friends. It’s just so (chef’s kiss)

Also yes, I’m well aware eastern and western dragons are largely different - I’m keeping mostly elements from eastern dragons because they’re super cool and underrated over here in the west.

(This will have hints at a Mariharem (but I couldn’t resist adding a lot more Lukanette because that ship still has my heart, sue me)

What began as a bright, sunny day had suddenly grown dark, sinister clouds rising to shun the sun and bathing the city of Paris in a thick gray curtain of dread.

Civilians looked on in horror from the relative safety of their homes at the giant red and black dragon weaving her way through the air, steam hissing from her nostrils, gleaming golden eyes narrowed in rage.

“LILA!” A thundering roar reverberated through the streets. Whoever remained outside had to clap their hands over their ears lest the painful ringing the sound caused actually did them damage as raindrops began to fall from the skies.

The softest tinkling of bells in the akuma’s wake was offset by another earsplitting roar, masking the panting of the two heroes trying to follow her.

“Man, who gave her control over the weather?” Chat Noir complained, eyes narrowed against the growing sprinkling of rain.

“I think it’s-- a culture thing?” Chanceux answered hesitantly, eyes darting back and forth as they vaulted another rooftop. His fingers were beginning to slip. “We need to change her back before all of Paris floods!”

Chat winced, troubling memories resurfacing. “Yeah,” he quietly murmured.

“Marinette!” Alya shouted from the roof of Le Grand Paris, squinting against the pounding rain.

The dragon whipped her head around, and glinting eyes settled squarely on the reporter, just a tiny, tiny figure on the roof below her.

“Mari, hey,” she continued, her tone dropping into a more soothing one. “Look, I know you’re upset - but you can’t let Hawkmoth get to you! You’re hurting people!”

“Hurting people?!” She exclaimed. “Lila has been the one hurting people for far too long! She needs to face the consequences of hurting my friends!”

Alya tried her best not to heave a frustrated sigh. “I know! I know, believe me, Marinette, I know. But what you’re doing - this isn’t you! The Marinette I know would never hurt so many innocent people like this!”

For a moment, she thought she saw something flicker by the akuma’s eyes - something troubled.

“Please,” she pleaded, reaching out to her friend. “Fight him, Marinette. You’re better than him.”

It seemed to have worked. And then that irritating glowing purple outline appeared before her face and she let loose another earth-shaking roar; and with a rush of wind so strong it nearly blew her off of the building, the akuma - Marinette - had gone.

Alya huffed, raising her phone to speak clearly into it, “Sorry guys, I tried. She’s beyond even listening to me.”

“Got it, babe,” Nino answered, before hanging up and slipping his phone back into his pocket. Turning around, he surveyed the members of Kitty Section... minus their guitarist.

“Where’s Luka?” Mylene wondered aloud, worry knitting her brow.

“He...” Juleka hesitated, but Rose’s comforting arm around her shoulders helped her finish, “...he wanted to try and talk her down. I told him it was a stupid idea, but he insisted.”

“If he can’t do it, we won’t be able to either,” Ivan admitted glumly.

Rose looked around the group in desperation. “But we’ve got to try something! That’s Marinette!” She cried, turning her pleading gaze on her girlfriend. “None of us liked to be akumatized, did we?”

An awkward air hung around as the rest of them either shook their heads or mumbled various “no”s and “not really”s.

“It’s not our faults we were akumatized,” the blonde reasoned. “I know I would’ve loved someone to help me fight off Hawkmoth’s butterfly.”

Juleka turned to her, a soft, solemnness to her eyes. “But would you have listened?”

Here, Rose opened her mouth to reply... then a few seconds later, shut it and slowly shook her head.

“We’ve still got to try something,” Ivan repeated, raising his drumstick. “For Marinette.”

“For Marinette,” Mylene echoed.

“For-”

“Marinette!” Nino exclaimed, finally spotting the serpentine akuma slither its way through the clouds.

It almost appeared she didn’t hear them, but finally she slowly turned to fix a hard stare on the group. Steam hissed again from her nose, as if in an annoyed snort. Something akin to frills - or spikes? - flared back and forth down her back, jet-black fading to white tips.

“Marinette!” Nino repeated, relief flooding his voice as he adjusted his glasses. “Oh, dude! We’ve been worried sick-- hey, where are you going?!”

She didn’t dignify him with an answer, turning back and returning to her course.

Nino watched her go, agape in shock.

“We tried,” Juleka heaved a sigh and patted his shoulder. “It’s up to the rest, now.”

“Luka...” she quietly wondered to herself, “... where are you? Please be safe...”

“Ugh, why am I here again?” Chloe huffed, turning her back on the group in the courtyard.

“Maybe if we use you as bait, we can keep her in one place for long enough that Chat Noir and Ladybug--” Alix hesitated, “--Chanceux can purify her.”

“That’s ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Do you want all of us to become fish food?” The blonde demanded. “Sabrina, we’re leaving.”

For once, the redheaded girl hesitated, watching Chloe begin to walk off.

Once she registered that no footsteps were echoing behind her, the rich girl paused, turning back with a raised brow. “Well? We don’t have all day, Sabrina - I’m already soaked enough as it is from all this stupid rain.”

All eyes fell to the girl, who shrank a little from the scrutiny. Alix and Kim looked to her in disdain, Chloe, expectant, and Max was still searching the clouds.

“I... no,” she murmured.

“What?” Chloe squinted, leaning in with a hand cupped to her ear. “I didn’t hear you. Speak up, will you?”

“I said no,” Sabrina stated forcefully, more forcefully than she meant to, judging by the surprise in her face. “I’m staying here. I...” she glanced to Max before looking her friend in the face, “I want to help Marinette too.”

It was silent for a second, save for the pounding rainstorm. Chloe was utterly aghast.

Then the blonde scoffed, whirling around and walking away. “Whatever, your loss. I’m going home where it’s warm and safe.”

“Wait, there she is!” Max suddenly exclaimed, pointing to the skies. The other students crowded around, watching a bright red line rushing through the clouds, cutting clean through the gray like a bullet.

“Marinette!” Kim bellowed as loud as he could. “We need you to stop!”

Unsurprisingly, she didn’t give a single indication that she’d heard.

Max paused, pondering something quietly to himself for several long seconds. When Chloe gave another dismissive scoff, he looked up, a newfound determination in his eyes. “I’ve got an idea; but first, who has Lila’s number?”

“Luka, where in the hell are you?” Juleka questioned.

“Nowhere you should go to in this weather,” he answered, balancing the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he got off the bike. Pulling off his helmet, he returned his phone to his hand and looked around. “Wait for me at the Liberty. I’ll be back as soon as I talk to her.”

“You’re crazy, you know that? She didn’t even listen to us.”

“She’s... so angry, right now,” he murmured, and a chord of pain struck his chest as he heard another angry roar ripple through the sky. “I’m hoping I can at least keep her for a minute - but if I’m lucky...”

“If you’re lucky, she’ll decide to spare you,” his sister huffed. After a second of silence on her end, she added, “The band is worrying about you. Hurry up and come home.”

Luka managed a chuckle at the warmth belied in her voice. “Will do.”

As he hung up the phone, he walked through the park until he finally came to the spot - and pulled out his guitar.

“Marinette!” He called, seeing her soaring above.

At the sound of his voice, the thunderous rain seemed to lessen in intensity for a moment - and so did the heat in her eyes as she turned to hover above the park.

Smiling up at her, he ran a hand through his drenched hair and pulled out a pick. “I know you’re angry right now... horribly angry... but I want you to hear something.”

Tilting her head slightly, she gave no indication she would take off.

Strumming a few chords, he began to play a song - one that he knew almost as well as his own, or his sister’s, or his mother’s. As he looked up at her, he could see her golden eyes closing, an echo of the day they met.

“Is it working?” He questioned, sparing a glance up at her hovering form. “Can I finally... be the one to calm her anger, just as she tried to bring me back all that time ago?”

The next time he looked up at her, his hopeful smile fell into a despairing gape as a familiar purple mask faded before her eyes, and they reopened - full of pain and anger.

“Marinette--!” he began, but his guitar slipped from his hands as giant, gleaming talons wrapped about him, tight enough so that he couldn’t wiggle free.

“Marinette!” Another voice yelled, and the akuma turned with a growl at the people leaping into the park.

Chat Noir and Chanceux led the charge, a group of teenagers following close behind. With them was a familiar person wrapped up like a package, angry and glaring - until she saw the akuma.

Lila squeaked, struggling against the rope. “When you said you were going to get help, this is NOT what I--”

“LILA!” The akuma’s roar dizzied them for a few moments, and the rain began to pelt them like hail.

“Marinette, stop!” Chanceux exclaimed, darting in front of the girl as the dragon dropped Luka only a foot to the ground in anticipation of grabbing her instead. “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted Lila? Why?”

“Because she hurt Marc!” The dragon snarled, eyes flashing in fury at the memory. “She ruined his comic because he stood up for me!”

“Mari, Marc is okay,” the red-and-black-spotted hero tried to soothe, raising his hands placatingly. “So what if Lila ruined ou-- his comic? He’s already planning on making a better one!”

Marc chose that moment to hobble over from the crowd, trying to smile up at the serpent with tearstained cheeks.

“Marc...” The akuma murmured, all heat gone from her voice. “Your eyeliner is running.”

“Oh, is it?” His smile dropped, and he swiped at his eye with his thumb. Sure enough, a smudge of black stained it. “Well, that’s no big deal, is it? I’m more worried about you.”

“We all need you to shake off Hawkmoth,” Alya pleaded next. “We’re here to help. You would’ve done the same for us. It’s only fair we do the same thing for you.”

“We love you, Marinette,” Rose implored. “Please.”

The akumatized girl looked back and forth between her friends, brow knit in indecision.

Suddenly Hawkmoth’s voice snarled in her ears. “What are you doing, Huangdi?! You need to take the Miraculous!”

Clenching her eyes shut in pain, she screamed as a wave of agony flooded over her through the mindlink.

“He’s hurting her!” Ivan exclaimed.

“Quick, Chanceux,” Chat said, catching the hero’s attention, “where is the akumatized item? Do you see it?”

Scanning the creature, the hero’s brow knit together in confusion - until he saw it.

“The tail,” he stated. “The object is wrapped around the tail.”

Chat looked, and indeed, it was a beaded object tightly strung around it. His throat constricted, and his heart began to race - he recognized it.

“Do we have to break it to get the butterfly?” He questioned aloud.

“I hope we don’t,” the ladybug hero answered softly. “How can we talk her down with Hawkmoth abusing the mindlink?”

A cry from the dragon interrupted their little talk, and the two looked back to see the dragon land with a thud on the ground, her magnificent length spreading across the entirety of the park as she tried to cover her ears with her talons.

“Marinette!” Alya cried in alarm, rushing over to her.

“Please, please make it stop,” Huangdi begged, tears filling her eyes.

The group froze in fear.

Then, Rose spoke up. “Group hug!”

Determinedly marching over, she reached out and wrapped her arms around one of the dragon’s, holding it to her chest as tight as she could.

“Rose...?!” Juleka questioned.

“Go away, Hawkmoth!” Rose yelled as if she hadn’t heard her. “You big meanie! Leave Marinette alone!”

Bewildered, a few of the group exchanged glances.

Shrugging, Alix and Kim walked over with confident faces and joined Rose in hugging Huangdi’s arm and shouting at the villain.

“You stink, Hawkmoth,” Kim scoffed. “Hurting our friend like this? If you were here I’d punch you right in the face!”

“Not before me you wouldn’t!” Alix retorted, squeezing the scaled appendage as tight as she could.

“What... are they doing...?” Chat breathed as more and more made their way towards the dragon.

“I... I think they’re bullying Hawkmoth,” Chanceux let out a tiny little hysterical laugh. With an incredulous smile, he shrugged and made his way over to their hostage.

“You suck, Hawkmoth!” Nino joined in, pressing himself against their friend’s side. “C’mon, Marinette, you can totally kick him out!”

“Do it for me!” Alya added, trying her best to hug her as she planted herself firmly at her throat. “Come on, Marinette, you can do it. I know you can show this bully who’s boss.”

“Go away, Hawkmoth!” Sabrina yelled in unison with Rose.

Huangdi’s eyes continued to water, and large tears spilled over the sides of her cheeks and splattered to the ground with the rain.

Luka had long since picked himself up and pressed a hand against her scaled jaw. When she looked down at him, he gave her a reassuring smile.

“You can do this, Marinette,” he encouraged. “Where’s the amazing girl that stood up to XY for us?”

“I...” The dragon sniffled a little.

Slowly, her voice began to change from its guttural timbre to something softer.

“Hey, it’s working!” Mylene exclaimed in relief. “Come on, Marinette...!”

Slowly, the dragon began to flicker - and with a bright light and a sharp scream, she disappeared, leaving a shivering, sobbing Marinette in her wake. Her classmates fell to the ground abruptly, letting out exclamations of surprise, and Chanceux was quick to dart away from Lila and towards the dark-purple butterfly trying to flutter away.

“Gotcha!” He exclaimed with pride as it disappeared into the yo-yo. “Your evil comes to an end, akuma!”

Throwing the yo-yo into the air, he followed it with “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Almost immediately a bright light pierced the sky, and a swarm of ladybugs chased it as it shooed away the dreary blanket. Slowly, the bright blue sky came back into view as the rain came to an end. Rainbows danced about as the last of the rain shimmered in the sun’s cheerful rays.

Alya was the first to get to her. “Marinette, are you okay?”

Nodding wordlessly, she collapsed into her best friend’s arms, still crying - and one by one, the rest of them joined the group hug. Luka glanced towards Chat and Chanceux, gesturing towards the pile with expectant eyes.

The ladybug hero sighed, smiling in relief as he joined in. Chat hesitated, but Nino caught his eye and pointed at Marinette. He gave in and hugged around Alya and Luka.

“I’m... I’m so sorry,” Marinette whimpered, trying to wipe away her tears. “I was just... so upset and hurt that I lost it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Marc spoke up firmly, brushing away his own tears and squeezing her arm. “Like Chanceux said, I can always make an even better one.”

“Um, hello?” Lila groused. “Right here...”

“Oh, right,” Chat remembered with a glower, turning to the Italian girl. “As for little miss troublemaker, I want you out of the class effective immediately.”

“Wh- what?” It wasn’t just Lila, but Marinette who answered. The group stared at her even as she spluttered, “Chat, are you sure--?”

“She has caused too much harm in the classroom, Mari,” he stated, his usual banter traded for a serious tone that demanded she listen. “Not just to you - now she’s involved someone from another class, and it’s not just Bustier’s problem to deal with anymore.”

“He’s right,” Juleka added. “Nathanael and Marc are my friends. I can’t just sit and watch her start bullying Marc.”

“Th- that wasn’t-- I was just--” The brunette stammered.

“You tore up something precious to him,” Chanceux suddenly spoke up, voice flickering with anger as he stared her down. “That’s something Chloe would do, sure - but you? After everything we did to try and be nice to you?”

“It’s bullying,” Chat emphasized, folding his arms across his chest. “Marinette, I know you don’t want to make things harder, but I don’t feel comfortable having another bully in the classroom after everything else that’s happened this year.”

There was a heavy few seconds of silence from the group.

Finally, Marinette swallowed. She nodded her head and admitted, “... I’m not going to argue with you. In fact, I agree. I don’t want to have to deal with that anymore. It was enough being the only one having to keep quiet - but I am not going to stand around and watch my friends get the same treatment.”

Alya pulled away with a concerned frown. “So it was true, then? She lied?”

“She lied about the connection with Dargaud,” Marc confirmed. “I assume she’s lied about other things as well, but that one affects Nath and I.”

“I can’t believe this.” The reporter shot her a disappointed stare. “I was so set to publish that interview with you, too. That would’ve gotten me so much hate if people actually contacted them and asked about you, you know? I can’t believe I didn’t even see it earlier; you don’t even like comics.”

“I- I do,” Lila defended. “I read a ton of webcomics all the time!”

“You didn’t even know the name of the studio you were promising a gig with,” Chanceux pointed out with narrowed eyes.

“Do I have to know the names of every single last place I work with, now?” She questioned, exasperated and upset. “I mean come on, not even Gabriel Agreste himself would know like half the models and agencies he collaborates with. Excuse me for having a bad memory.”

Rose shifted from foot to foot. “This one was a lie, but... surely she can’t have lied about everything, right? Who just does that?”

Marinette turned to give Chat a flat look over Alya’s head. He nodded in response.

“Chanceux, why don’t we let her loose,” he said to the hero standing near her.

Pursing his lips, the redheaded boy thought for a moment. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. Might as well; the only thing she did was serve as bait for the akuma.”

Pulling at the end of the bow, the rest of the rope sagged free, and so did Lila. She got up, rubbing her sore arms, and glared at the group.

“Now I’m wet, muddy, and have ropeburn,” she complained with a heavy sigh. “Mama is going to have a fit when she sees how dirty my clothes got...”

As she ran off, the heroes returned their attention to the pile.

“Thanks, guys, I’m feeling a lot better now.” With another sniffle, Marinette smiled weakly at her friends. “I feel so ashamed for giving in...”

“Believe me, I was really close,” Marc commented with a light laugh. “If you hadn’t jumped in front of me and took the butterfly when you did...”

“You continue to be an Everyday Ladybug,” Chat praised with a soft smile. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Marinette. I’m just glad we were able to snap you out of it.”

Extending his hand, he added, “Why don’t I take you home? I’m sure your parents are worried sick.”

“Better idea, why don’t we have a sleepover tonight?” Alya asked, glancing around at the girls. “That way, we can keep an eye out for any more nasty butterflies.”

“I’m down.” Alix nodded. “I’ll ask my dad.”

“Sounds like fun!” Rose cheered, Juleka nodding in agreement.

“I’ll ask my dad,” Mylene said, folding her hands together.

“It’s settled.” Alya smiled triumphantly, squeezing Marinette’s shoulder. “We’re all here for you, Marinette. Just say the word and we’ll help you beat away Hawkmoth’s akumas with a superpowered stick if we have to!”

“You don’t have to,” laughed the girl as she wiped her last tear away and took Chat’s hand. “But thank you. Really, thank you. I’m glad to have you all as my friends.”

“No,” said the ladybug hero, his eyes growing soft at the pigtailed girl, “thank you for being ours.”

#miraculous ladybug #lila salt #akumanette #akuma class sugar #angst with a happy ending #long post

[llaberration]

Coyne's Chronicles: Shadow over Yfiria - Chapter 1

[[Remember to read the prologue first!]]

“Keep your grubby mits to yourself, beggar,” the words were delivered harshly, and followed up by a stinging slap against his outstretched palm. Coyne withdrew it swiftly, sucking on the sore fingers and glaring after the three soldiers as they marched away, laughing, presumably at how strong and clever they were.

He had only asked them for one copper coin. If they had paid him, or just moved on as though he weren't there, he would have left them alone.

Just for that slap, he was going to rob them.

Drawing himself to his feet once they were out of sight, the mimic dodged into the woods, and began taking a short cut through the trees, aiming to cut them off a mile along the path.

Just as his destination was coming into view, a harsh, unexpected sound from the bushes nearby caused him to abruptly dodge to one side and duck down in a bramble patch on the off chance that it was dangerous. There were hungry bears, territorial wolves, and victims of the plague roaming about after all, and he had no desire for an encounter with any of those things.

After a moment of quiet and nothing pursuing him, Coyne considered the sound. It had been a groan... but not like a human groan, this had been a huge sound, that rumbled through the ground below him and filled the air with almost tangible anguish.

Letting out a puzzled little snort, Coyne waited a moment longer, to ensure an attack was not to follow, then extracted himself from the brambles, trying not to tear his already ragged clothes, and went to peep through the thick shrubbery surrounding the source of the sound.

There, in a clearing among the trees, lay a huge, scaled form. Glittering black and gold scales coated a slender, elegant shape that was simultaneously bound with well toned muscle. A large, pointed head with glittering golden horns sat at the end of an almost serpentine neck, which was dotted with a ridge of sharp golden quills. Two long, delicate wings in black and purple lay heavily by the creature's sides, and it had four powerful legs, each one tipped with a deadly, clawed hand.

It had been years since Coyne had seen a dragon soaring the skies but he certainly recognised one when he saw it. Most had been killed for their scales, or ground up into medicine, but here was one, large as life. This one was not well though. The mimic could see a wound on its hip that looked painful and infected. Its scales had lost their lustre, and seemed to hang slightly baggy on its body.

This creature had been badly hurt, and was almost certainly facing death's door, if not quite ready to knock yet.

Hearing the soldiers on the path nearby, Coyne had a thought.

Dodging forwards, he leaned towards the dragon's head and whispered into one of its long ears. “If you can fight... I can bring you a meal.”

A bright purple eye shot open and swivelled to him, observing.

For a moment, a chill of icy cold terror swelled in his belly, and Coyne almost fled on instinct, but the creature gave a single nod.

Coyne understood, and gestured with a hand. “They will be coming from here,” he said, then darted off into the bushes towards the road.

He waited for the soldiers, letting their voices draw closer. He watched as they reached him and passed by, talking loudly about how much they hated patrols. As the third passed right beside his hiding spot, he reached out, using a deft grip to pluck the man's sword right from its scabbard.

“Gotcha!” he shouted, standing and waving it, “Catch me if you can scumbags!” and he dashed into the woods.

The undergrowth beat at him from all sides as he heard the three men crashing after him, their angry shouts and curses filling the air. He was a fool! What was he DOING?! His heart thudded thickly as he raced through the rough scrub, circling around the clearing, still shouting so they would follow him directly into the space rather than around it.

He did not even see what happened next.

The three men crashed through the bushes into the clearing, then there was a roar, a bit of shouting, and silence.

Coyne waited where he had stopped in the bushes, panting. He should wait a little. He didn't want to see the dragon eating... perhaps he would leave it a while, wanting to play it safe. He looked at the sword he had stolen, his only reward at this point, and saw it was made only of normal steel. There was a tiny ruby set into the base of the hilt, with a small amount of gold around it, and he quickly set to work picking that out with his teeth and nails before scouring the rest of the sword for anything of value before dropping it with a sigh, not much, but a start.

After catching his breath, he dusted himself off, wondering if enough time had passed, then silently crept up a tree to peer into the clearing from a relatively safe vantage point.

The dragon lay, stretched out, its slender middle looking a lot fuller than before. It looked as though the creature was sleeping.

Coyne looked around hopefully for a pile of discarded armour and weapons but quickly realised there was nothing.

Had the thing just horked them down, armour clad, armed to the teeth and fighting?

Coyne huffed. He had been expecting to gain at least a bit of coin for his troubles, but now it looked like his prize was nothing. If he did not do better than this, he would certainly run out of time.

Coyne leaned back in the branches of the tree with a tired sigh, letting his sore eyes close. He should move, there was no wisdom in staying so close to a large and dangerous predator. It was strange though, as his time slowly counted down and his body grew more tired, he began to feel almost like a human again.

Not properly, as he had no genuine memories of the life that he had lived before this one. The merger that had happened between the wizard and the mimic had left him as a new being, with the memories of neither, and abilities that did not really belong in any school of magic. He truly was a monster. And he was growing almost comfortable with the idea of his time running out.

Perhaps it was because he had been experiencing his body tiring and shutting itself down for so long, but he was starting to wonder if a long rest would be such a terrible thing.

“Are you going to come down here? Or are you just going to stay in that tree?”

Coyne's stringy form tensed up, so much so that he almost flopped off his branch. He caught himself though with his legs dangling, and hauled his body back up to peer down at the clearing.

The dragon remained still, it had barely moved, but its eyes were open now, glowing softly up at him, as though they could see straight through the dimness and the foliage.

“Depends...” said Coyne slowly, rolling the word, extending it. “Are you going to eat me if I do?”

“If I intended to eat you, I would have done so when you first appeared before me. Come down here. Tell me what you are.”

Coyne paused, considering this. It was true that he had been close enough to the dragon for it to kill him and it had not done so. It had eaten well now, so perhaps it would have no interest in a scraggly meal like him.

He scritched at his heavy iron wristbands for a moment before thoughtfully dropping down to the ground and sneaking forwards through the bushes, stopping on the edge of the clearing opposite the dragon in a crouch, and quietly watching it, ready to flee.

“You do not trust me,” observed the dragon, moving its head slightly on the leaf covered ground.

“You're a dragon,” replied Coyne with a shrug, as though his response should have been obvious, his eye roving along the black and gold body. He reckoned it was about thirty five feet long, perhaps a few more including the tail's full length, but its body was slender, much more so than the red or green dragons he had seen before. This one was more angular, with a pointed face, and a muzzle full of sharp, glittering teeth. As he watched, a long tongue flicked out, as gold in colour as the edging on the scales, and licked over the side of the dragon's mouth, where a smear of blood remained. A little instinct in him made Coyne's eyes dilate slightly at the sight of the gold, but he knew this was no precious metal, and held himself firmly in check. “I know not to trust dragons.”

“That is something a man would say.”

“It is something anyone with an edible liver would say. But I... am no man.”

“I can see that.”

Coyne let out a little huff, spotting a boot that must have been flung off in the fray, he reached out and delicately drew it to himself across the floor, not making any sudden movements. He lifted the thing and began to examine its buckles, disappointed to find them to be tin. He dropped the boot and looked back to the dragon, which was silently watching him, its eyes glowing with little swirls of steamy light. He was certain it was working some kind of magic to figure out what he was, and honestly, he wished it the best of luck. Many had tried.

“So what exactly are you?” it said after a time, the glow fading. “I can see what you are not. That leaves me wondering how something as old as I cannot have seen one of your kind before. Are you new? Born of the war? I can see you are not fae... nor are you a spirit...”

“No... no I was not born of the war. I am from long before that,” Coyne sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I... I know what I am made from, but I know not what I am.”

The dragon raised its head slightly at this, and gave a light tilt. “Explain?”

Coyne shrugged, pushing his hands about in the dirt, searching for any dropped change, a nervous habit. “A wizard cursed to everlasting life entered a dungeon in search of riches or knowledge, as they do. There, he encountered a mimic stronger than himself... and as they do, the mimic consumed him. The curse of undying however, was far more powerful than either of them... it consumed both and I was born. I came to be as you see me now. Lying on the floor of a dungeon, fully equipped with knowledge of the world as inherited from the wizard and mimic both, but the memories of neither. With magic created from the union that belongs in neither the human arts, nor the world of monsters.”

The dragon watched him, visibly intrigued. “And I see the world of man has not been kind to you.”

Coyne scoffed a little. “What remains of the world of man now after decades of war? Desperation and decay. That is all that remains. I scrape from the gutters and steal days of life from their purses, but there is no living to be done here any more.”

The dragon seemed to smile slightly, its eyes tilting at the corners, and its broad mouth twitching. “I see you do not align yourself with them.”

Coyne shook his head, “I need them to live. I need their coin. There is a price I must pay for each day that I live. The coin was plentiful once. I was... different then. More powerful, more capable...” he held up his arms sadly, prodding the wiry bicep and jabbing at his ribs, exposed by clothes that were barely hanging onto life. “These days of war have whittled away the time I can afford.”

“And is that why you led the soldiers to me? You were hoping I would leave their belonging for you to pick through like some kind of carrion beast?”

Coyne gave a half nod, but his eyes were narrow. “One of them struck me when I asked him for a copper, so there was also that. But yes. I was hoping to profit a coin or two for my trouble. I see now I chose the wrong creature for that, did I not?”

The dragon chuckled. “You did. Had you picked a Mire, Sea or Sky dragon... you would have had your pickings of their metals. However... I am different.” The dragon seemed pleased to have gotten onto the subject of itself. Coyne had always been told that dragons were vain. It looked to be true now as it seemed positively delighted by this subject change.

“I am a Cave dragon. I think humans call us... Black dragons? We digest metal. It strengthens our scales, tougher than any other variety of dragon,” to punctuate the proud claim, it flicked its long, whiplike tail, which caused the aforementioned metallic scales to scrape together, creating an almost musical tone.

“I... assumed as much,” sighed Coyne. “And I see the world of man has not been exactly forgiving to you either.” He shot a look towards the creature's injured hip, then immediately backed up a few paces as the dragon's face changed immediately to a look of hatred.

“Men,” it spat. “Men are fools. They have slaughtered and enslaved us freely since the start of this idiotic war. Stealing our breath for weapons, our scales for armour, our organs for medicine...” the voice had a hissing, threatening undertone now, and the eyes were glowing once more as it turned its head to glare at the open wound in its thigh. “They take things not owed to them to spill blood over pettiness and lies.”

“They didn't quite manage to take you though. Did they?” said Coyne, a sly smile crossing his face.

“They did not,” agreed the creature, calming slightly at the complimentary tone in his voice. “They shot me down as I attempted to fly past that idiotic wall they have built across the land. I escaped but....it has been an inconvenience.” The purple eyes slid slowly over to him, narrowing lazily. “Perhaps... we can be of use to each other here...”

Coyne leaned in slightly, interested. After all, he had nothing to lose. “In what way?”

“I need someone other than a dragon to remove the debris from this wound. It is forged from pressure hardened wood of a sacred oak. Dragons... or any fae may not touch such a thing. If I attempt to remove it myself, I will receive severe burns to any part I use to do so.” The creature fixed Coyne with a stare, “You however, would not be affected.”

Coyne chewed his tongue slightly as he took this information in. “And... what do I get?”

“In return I will pay you with the scraps of the meal you brought me. I estimate about five gold coins and a few trinkets.”

Coyne licked his lips. Five gold coins was the best part of a month. He could do a lot with that much time. But he still did not entirely trust this creature. It was a dragon after all. Dragons had agendas. That was the second thing he had learned about them. They were vain was the first, and they always had agendas was the second.

The mimic drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the ground. Help a dragon... gain a few gold. The dragon seemed tired and weak, even after a good meal... it was talking with confidence but had little strength to back it up. Perhaps this time was worth the risk. “Alright...” he said, after a few minutes, through which the dragon waited patiently and politely. “I will clean your wounds in exchange for the coin,” he said, nodding. “If...” he held up a finger. “You give me your word that you will not try to hurt me.”

“I have no reason to harm you. You are not a man.”

Coyne chewed his lip a little, “Your word then?”

“I give you my word,” said the dragon, lifting one gold-clawed hand into the air and waving a finger in a swirling motion, creating a little twirling pattern in the air made of smoky purple light.

Satisfied the dragon was bound to its word, Coyne stood up, and came forwards. He tried to stand straight, but as his body had tired as his time ran out, he had found it harder and harder to do so. He walked with something of a stoop, and his sore legs shuffled more than walked at this speed. “Alright let me see here...” he said, kneeling down beside the wound, and examining it, the dim light not helpful, but not impossible for him to see in.

The wound proved to be long and deep, a vast gash cut all along the creature's thigh and into the hip, splitting scales and ripping them out. The edges of the flesh were rounded and sore, showing it had been this way for some time, trying to heal.

He delicately slipped a hand to the sides of the cut and pressed it open to get a better look, careful of the sharp metallic edges of the broken scales. His touch was gentle, but he saw the creature's claws dig into the ground as he performed his examination. This wound was visibly causing the beast agony.

Inside the gash, he could easily see the shaft of an enormous spear... no... an arrow... one so huge it could only have been fired from a siege weapon, turned from a single piece of wood and snapped off where it protruded. The rest of the shaft, along with the tip remained buried deep. “I see it indeed...” he said softly, touching the wood with the lightest of fingers. “It is deep... I can draw it out... but it will hurt.” He warned.

“Do it. The swifter you can make it, the better.”

“Alright... I'm not the man I used to be but...” Coyne straightened up and reached into the opening to grasp the end of the weapon, a good, firm hold, not wanting to lose his grip halfway through. “Alright... here we go...” he took a breath, tensing himself up, and heaving evenly backwards, the way the arrow had entered, so that the only flesh it would tear was that which was already damaged.

As the mimic tugged, the dragon's claws gouged deeply into the earth, the huge head swung upwards in a terrible roar that shook the ground, and caused birds to scatter from the trees all around them.

Feeling the object come free, Coyne was quick to make himself scarce as well, darting off into the bushes as the dragon turned in angry circles, huffing furious, growling breaths. He waited in a thick berry bush, watching the creature, hoping that if he was patient, it would calm.

He was right, after a few moments of turning and panting like a dog, the dragon lay down again as though its legs had given up their last strength, and it let out a little groan. Coyne slowly emerged from the bushes again, cautious, “Do you need me to check for splinters now that the worst is gone?”

The dragon glanced at him, still grinding its sharp, metallic teeth in pain, then gave a nod.

The mimic returned, and resumed his task.

It was a lot more delicate now. The arrow had emerged with relative ease and not done too much damage to the flesh along the way, but the wood had been untreated, probably intentionally, so it had left little slivers of itself riddled into the flesh.

Coyne worked quickly to pluck them out, his slender fingers adept and his eyes sharp, he cleared the wound of shards and the odd chunk of broken scale as he did so. He realised, as he worked, that the blood oozing from the flesh was not simply red like that of a man, but tinted with oily little swirls of metal... gold and silver twisting through it, but as liquid as any of the blood.

When he was finally satisfied with his work, he stepped back, “How's that?” he asked.

“Much better...” the dragon gave a quiet sigh of relief. “I can feel the sacred oak is gone... now it can heal.”

Coyne nodded, moving off to wipe his bloodied hands on the leaves of a bush.

The dragon watched him, its head tilting again, as though studying him. “You are a strange creature.” It observed thoughtfully.

“Thanks, I try,” replied Coyne, a little sarcastic in his tone.

“You do not belong in the world of man...”

“I know that. But the world of monsters won't have me. Believe me, I tried that too. All they see is just another human who would destroy them... or who could potentially be lunch. At least in the world of man I can pass among them unseen and steal freely.”

The dragon gave a nod, “I see. I see.”

Coyne finished cleaning his hands, and settled in the bushes opposite the dragon once more, looking expectant.

“Of course. You want your payment.” The dragon sat up, “Very well.”

What followed was an unpleasant churning sound, and the huge creature regurgitating a pile of armour. Everything metal the knights had been carrying, washed clean of any sign they had been occupied. Any fur or leather strapping was gone, but the fittings remained.

“Your scraps.”

Coyne was not bothered by the slightly condescending tone the dragon used as it said that, and came forwards. He had scraped coins from dirt and gutter, dug precious stones from the rock in which they formed and stolen from the filthiest of people. Acid washed dragon puke was hardly the worst thing he had ever seen.

He worked quickly as the dragon moved away from the pile to lie down once more and watch him.

He shifted aside the armours, as those were made of nothing but normal alloys and held no value for him. The smaller pieces were what he was after. He quickly found the five gold coins and wiped them on his ragged trousers before flicking them into his mouth one by one, forcing them down despite their broadness. He was well practised at it now. Normally he would have taken time to enjoy them, the shape, the taste... but he felt self conscious with the dragon watching him so he made it fast.

Among the heap there was also two rings, a worn silver pendant, a few silver and copper coins, and a pair of copper dice. He choked these all down quickly, rummaged through the rest for anything else, then straightened up, ready to move on.

“You consume the treasures. Why?” The dragon was looking curious once more.

“That's how I add them to my total,” he said, “I'm a mimic... the gold is counted only once it is within me.”

“You carry the total of your wealth inside your body?”

“Sort of...” Coyne sighed, gesturing to his middle, “It doesn't stay in this form, it passes into my other form. This one is just better for running away if something happens...”

“You have another form? Will you show me?” there was a look of genuine curiosity on the massive creature's face.

Coyne looked around nervously. He did not like transforming. It was dangerous, left him vulnerable, but the dragon was arguably more dangerous than anything in these woods and still did not seem to want to harm him so perhaps he could humour it. “Alright... only for a moment though...”

He drew his breath and straightened up before folding himself down, wrapping his arms tight around himself as he curled into a neat little ball. Then his flesh changed. Creaking and shifting as it became hard, dark wood. His iron wristbands shifted outwards, moving to edge his shape as he became nothing but a chest. Not a particularly grandiose one either, just a normal, slightly tired wood chest, fitted at the edges with somewhat rusted and pockmarked iron bands, and a neat little lock in the front.

“There you go,” he said, the edge of the chest shifting slightly as he spoke. “Just a chest outside. Like any other mimic.”

“And... this is where you keep your treasure?”

“Yes. The form gets bigger and grander when I am wealthy, to hold the haul... but... as it is...” he opened up just slightly, so the dragon could see the glitter of the few coins and trinkets within, but not the rest of his mimic body. The new additions were not visible yet, and the dragon raised a claw, taking a breath as if to ask, but Coyne sensed the question before it came. “They're still in my other form. It'll be dawn before they pass over and the day's fee is deducted.”

“How interesting...” said the dragon, sitting back. “And are you done with the rest of that armour?”

Coyne shifted back to his human form, stretching his arms and legs as he did so, glad of the feeling of gold shifting in his belly. “I have no use for tin or steel,” he confirmed, moving back to settle once more in the bushes. It actually felt pleasant to have held a conversation with someone for once but he felt he'd have to move off soon. He had been granted precious additional time from that gold, maybe he could try and travel back towards the southern side of the continent? Things were supposed to be safer, if more militarised on the other side of the wall they had built, so maybe he could do better for himself over there.

The dragon leaned forwards to draw the metals back to himself, swallowing them down.

Coyne watched, interested to see how easily the slender form was able to stretch to fit the broad chest plates with no difficulty. He smiled a bit, spotting a couple of buckles the dragon had missed, and brushing them clean of dirt, “Catch,” he called, flicking them into the air, and blinking in awe as the creature's head shot out at incredible speed to snatch the metal right out of its flight.

They shared a chuckle as the dragon wiped its mouth awkwardly, and sensing a silence coming on, Coyne rubbed his head, scruffing his unkempt auburn hair to the side. “Is your leg feeling better now?”

The dragon nodded, “It is still sore. But the wound will heal...” he stretched the leg in question out, grimacing as the wound shifted, showing his teeth, which Coyne now spotted properly for the first time, looked as though they were made of all different metals, glittering in the dim light.

The mimic snapped his fingers as a thought struck him suddenly, drawing a glance from the dragon. “Wait. I'll be back,” he said, turning, and disappearing into the bushes.

He hurried through the woods, searching for something. In his walk to cut the soldiers off... he had definitely spotted some of...

There it was! He grinned as he saw the thin, upright shape of the Maiden's Touch plant, green with thick, purple edged leaves. He quickly gathered the plant, leaves, berries, everything, and found a nice smooth rock that fitted in his palm.

He hurried back through the woods to the dragon, carrying this, and set it down carefully on a flat stone in the clearing.

“What are you... doing?” the dragon looked puzzled.

Coyne did not answer at first, quickly stripping the leaves from the stems with deft hands, he tossed the stems aside and began to use the rock to grind the leaves and berries together into a paste. He paused after a moment, looking around until he spotted a more common Spindleweed that grew everywhere, and pulled some from the ground, extracting the roots and adding it to the mix after dusting the mud free.“Mankind is not a smart race,” he started to explain as he worked. “Really not. But one thing you have to give them credit for is using everything the land offers them.” He had learned a lot about keeping himself in one piece and relatively pain free in the dangerous, war torn world. This was one such trick.

Once he had mashed everything up thoroughly, he scraped it together into his hands and approached the dragon, “May I see the wound again? This will not hurt like the last time.”

The dragon eyed him and the purple mixture, but seemed more curious than worried, so it extended the leg for him, and Coyne moved forwards.

He opened the wound with delicate fingers once more, and pressed the mixture into it, carefully filling the gaping hole, ensuring it covered every surface, then moving back. “Give it a little time,” he said, wiping his hands on his trousers, “You'll see.”

They sat for a short while, the dragon asking persistent questions about his forms. How the gold was passed between them, how tough they each were, how much each form could contain, what other powers did he possess if any... the creature seemed overly interested in him, but Coyne had to admit that something like him did not come along every day so even something as vain as a dragon might put talking about itself on hold to learn about him. He did not dare ask questions back, knowing nothing about this creature and not sure if he wanted to. Dragons made dangerous company, he knew that, and he was already testing his luck by being around one this long. He could feel his common sense tugging at him to make a move and vacate this area.

Probably some twenty minutes later, the dragon extended the injured leg, and did not grimace. The movement was easier, not as stiff. “You have worked some kind of magic on me,” it said, with a chuckle.

Coyne waved his still purple stained hands dismissively. “It was no magic. Maiden's Touch cleans a wound, keeps it clear of infection, and Spindleweed root is good for easing strained muscles.”

The dragon let out a little chuckle. “What an intriguing little creature you are. You cannot be killed and yet you know fear, and healing.”

Coyne shrugged, “I can still be hurt. Just because I can't die from anything doesn't mean I cannot experience pain and injury. I can still be maimed.”

“Indeed indeed,” the dragon said, still looking amused, then slowly standing, extending its wings.

Coyne looked up in awe at the beautiful wings, scaled and elegant, with delicate black and purple flesh stretched between the long fingers. “But I have rested too long. I must keep moving. I can ill afford to remain this close to man during the daytime.”

Coyne moved back a little, to allow the dragon some space as it stretched the huge wings. “Well... thank you for the coin,” he said, nodding a little.

The dragon finished stretching, and looked at him, a slightly sly glint in its purple eye as it spoke, “And thank you. However,” it paused to stretch out its long neck, twisting side to side with creaks as the tired muscles objected. “I am not yet done with you...”

Coyne was caught entirely off guard as the creature moved. That same lightening speed it had used to snatch the buckles out of the air was suddenly on full display to him as the head shot forwards, the jaws opening wide, showing off a powerful maw of wet, golden flesh, studded with what looked like hundreds of sharp, pointed teeth made from every metal he could imagine and then some.

His stunned brain only got a snapshot of that image before his face was pressed directly against the golden flesh.

Powerful dragony hands gripped his skinny body, holding his arms to his sides as he spluttered and squirmed in shock.

A thunderous swallow made his ears pop, and the ruthlessly efficient throat opened up before him, the flesh shining golden as far as he could see, shifting like liquid metal. He shouted, trying to kick or squirm backwards, but all of his words were cut off as the flesh was pushed against his face in another swallow.

He was disorientated as the huge head flipped upwards, using his own weight to flick him deeper more easily, and Coyne felt terror grip his heart as he recalled seeing those armour chest plates bulging down the throat. He doubted his skinny form was half as broad as those.

Another flick and powerful swallow, and the muscles had entirely gripped him, the flesh cool to the touch but not cold, and getting warmer as he moved down.

He let out a frightened shout, trying to free his arms to push back, his mind treating him to horrifying images of sitting in a pit of acid being constantly eaten away, unable to die but unable to help himself.

He tried to call out, wrenching his face from the flesh to shout, “You said you didn't wish to harm me! You gave your word!” He was rewarded with only a rumbling chuckle before another swallow shoved him deeper. He let out a despairing cry as he was squeezed firmly, and found himself sliding into a close, golden chamber.

He fumbled around, trying to stay upright as his legs were piled down ontop of him, shoving and pushing as he attempted to stay out of the acid.

But there was no acid.

Instead, his hands came into contact with many hard, round, somethings.

He blinked, pausing to grip one and lifting it up.

It was a gold coin.

He lifted another, identical to the first.

“What... is this...?”

He yelped, and dropped the coins as a force shifted against him from outside, a powerful touch from clawed fingers. “Well. It is not a belly, of that you can be certain.”

“But... I don't understand...” Coyne said, his voice quavering.

“You are in my crop, where I keep whatever I have hoarded between trips to my home. Do not be afraid, it is safe.”

Coyne shivered, pressing his hands against the golden flesh of the walls. “Why have you done this. You said you wouldn't harm me...”

“And I do not intend to. I am hiring you.”

“You're... what?”

“I am hiring you. As doctor, lurer of men, coinpurse and treasurer.”

Coyne took this in, rolling the job titles through his mouth, and wiping some of the slime from his face with an equally slimy sleeve. “Huh?” he finally said helplessly.

“You are coming with me. I could use an assistant. You've shown yourself to be capable. Dragons are frowned upon for taking ordinary men as assistants, but you are no man. And finding monsters as eloquent and skilled as you is rare.”

“But... what if I...”

“Don't want to?” asked the dragon with another chuckle. “Look around you. I am offering you free access to a dragon's hoard... consume all you wish... you can return it to me on request, and will always have more than enough for your next day's fee without my even noticing the loss...”

Coyne lifted one of the coins again, examining it, running his sharp little canine teeth over the edge. It was real gold alright. “But... I do not wish to be a prisoner...”

“You are not a prisoner.”

“Then why did you trap me here?!”

“Because you cannot fly, and certainly will not keep up with me on those skinny legs.”

Coyne paused. The dragon had a good point. “Can't I think on this?”

“Of course. Rest, have some gold, we will talk when I land to rest for the day. If you still wish to be freed. I will free you.”

“Oh... okay...” Coyne said weakly, a little overwhelmed.

He didn't have time to lament his situation though, as he was suddenly jostled by the dragon taking off, the gold in the crop shifting around him as the muscles all set to their task and the ground beneath them disappeared.

Soon enough, the powerful strokes of the wings settled into a regular pattern, and Coyne found himself cradled in a hammock of gold and powerful flesh. He touched here and there, exploring his surroundings. He found the flesh a lot warmer at the back of the crop, furthest from where he had arrived, and turned himself so that his upper body was facing that way as he settled among the coins. There was just room for him to lie, though it was cramped among the treasure, and he was certain the skinny creature must be finding him heavy.

Before too long, the intoxicating smell of the gold pierced his thoughts, and he lifted one coin, examining it with a a curious eye. It was certainly real gold, not from this region but worth the same. Being in debt to a dragon... one who had just recently eaten him seemed like a terrible idea but... he was so hungry. He sighed as his self control wavered, slipping the coin into his mouth, tasting it, exploring the shape of it with his tongue, then swallowing it quickly.

He followed with another, and a third. Before he knew it, he was gorging himself on the coins, a desperate instinct to gain as much time back as he could seizing him. He had been so close to the edge for so long that self control took second place to self preservation, and before he knew it, he had worked his way through a king's ransom.

For the first time in all but forever, his stomach was full. The coins could not click around as he moved, because they were too packed together.

He let out a regretful little groan and curled up against the soft flesh, closing his sore eyes and letting himself rest.

To Be Continued!

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So it begins. The first bit, originally uploaded to DA August 9th 202, I am playing catch up here because I have been trying to get my head around Tumbr for such a long time. Most of the currently posted parts of the story are on DA, but I'm uploading them all here to get caught up. It's a long story, so let me know what you think!

#extreme cuddling #nonfatal vore #safe vore #soft vore #sfw vore

[rayan12sworld]

💙Tie Your Heartstring Up Tight

By:athena_crikey

Summary:

Lan Wangji could not hope to find any other person like this, at least not so far from their home. But wu speak to birds and beasts across the realm. He may be known to them. He may be recognized, somewhere. The ravens and the hawks hear the name and cry it to the skies; the mouse and the fox both carry it with them through snow-washed fields. Below ground the beetles gnaw it into roots and bark. Wei Ying. Wei Wuxian.

OR: Tasked with finding the Yunmeng Jiang's missing wu, a young man called Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji recruits a familiar and travels across the land in search of him. His familiar, a black hare with a little too much personality, seems to have his own secrets.

Chapter:11/11

Words:54,106

Status:completed

There is no direct moonlight left, the rice paper shade entirely grey. Still though, the room is lit by faint diffuse starlight. By its gentle glow Lan Wangji turns his head to see a tall man seated at the table, his dark hair pulled wholly into a simple tie and tumbling down his back in gleaming waves, his clothes jet black. He is drinking from one of the wine jars gifted to Lan Wangji by the tea house, the soft trickle of liquid a rippling sound in this almost-dream. It fits seamlessly into the scene, like seafoam atop whispering waves. The man turns a little as he drinks it, the line of his cheek high, his lips shining as they’re wetted from the liquor. Part of Lan Wangji wants to wake up, wants to shed the skin of this dream and pitch into the cold crispness of reality so he can see this stranger’s face, so he can know the man who haunts his nights. But a larger part of him is comfortable, cozy where he lies, pleased to let the dream roll on. There is no danger, he is sure of that. No unfamiliar mind, hun or po here with him. There is no need to wake from this strange dream. He is weary from the hunt, from the long lingering echo of the crane’s song. He closes hie eyes, and slips back into sleep.

~~

Lan Wangji regrets, in all that he heard of the south – of its muddy rice fields and sticky summers, of its peasant farmers and its lack of education – that somehow he never heard anything of Wei Ying.

~~~

He looks back over his shoulder at the empty, derelict shrine. He has given everything to do right by you, Lan Wangji thinks. This is how you repay him? Lan Zhan. Lan Wangji looks over to where Wei Ying is huddled on the ground, on his hands and knees, awaiting death. He looks up, raises his head just enough for Lan Wangji to see the curve of his cheek, the bright glint of his eye. Thank you. And – I’m sorry. Lan Wangji tastes the tears in his throat, thick and hot and salty. Before him, Wen Zhuliu appears, reaches down to grab his arm and drag it upwards, his heartstring glinting. Lan Wangji just stares at him, empty, beyond horror for his own fate. There is no punishment for this evil, no retribution waiting. The world he served with his all has betrayed him, and he can no longer care. No, says a low voice, little more than a growl in the back of his mind. There is always punishment for true evil. There is always retribution for desecration. Lan Wangji blinks. Overhead, the moon goes dark. A cloud, perhaps. But it is swirling, dark, glinting, gleaming like a lake carp shining in the morning sun. One figure, two figures, intertwined, shifting. From overhead two enormous shapes descend. They braid together, their bodies flashing as the moonlight reappears. One black, one white. Dragons. Bearded, scaled, their claws flinty and their horns shining like lightning.

~~~

#wangxian #wangxian recommendations #mdzs #mxtx mdzs #wangxian fanfic #ao3 recs #the untamed #mdzs fanfic rec #mdzs lwj #lwj x wwx #lwj #mdzs wwx #wwx #wei ying #suibian #wangxian fic rec #Tie Your Heartstring Up Tight

[lupizora]

Title: ghosts of the past (keep coming back for us)

Genre: Supernatural/Horror-ish | [Canon Divergence]

Pairing: None

Rating: T (tw: Temporary Character Death. Guns/Gun Violence)

Word Count: 5,738

Summary: Kaito learns, in the most unexpected way, that the Great Detective’s death curse is more literal than anyone had expected.

The sky was bright blue with no cloud in sight. It was the kind of vibrant turquoise someone would notice if they looked up on a dry sunny day. A color so vast and so endless that it engulfed the horizon with its magnitude.

Frankly, it hurt.

Kaito's eyes couldn't stray from the sight though, even if it swallowed him whole.

He took a shuddering breath. The air was crisp, clean, and light enough to make his head spin a little. As if he was once again on his trusty hang glider, soaring over the expectant crowd after a KID heist.

But Kaito wasn't flying.

He was standing on top of an equally unending… lake? That sounded safe enough. Any other implied huge body of water swiftly left his mind. It wasn’t the time nor the place to worry about such a thing. The surface below his feet reflected the sky like a mirror, leaving nothing to indicate its depth. If something were lurking underneath, waiting to attack, he'd be none the wiser. He shivered at the thought.

“For someone who has conquered the skies, it’s surprising how much you hate the sea.”

“It’s not the sea I dislike. Just the scally things swimming in it,” Kaito automatically replied before the bizarreness of it hit him.

He whirled around. Greeted only by more of that empty expanse of sky and water, his gaze shifted downwards on instinct.

There he met an intelligent set of eyes, slightly obscured by a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. Kaito knew them all too well. It was a set he hadn’t seen in years. One which was staring back at him completely unchanged. The rest of Edogawa Conan’s form seemed equally unbothered by the passage of time. From the blue suit jacket over a white shirt and grey shorts combo to the bright red bowtie around his neck, and those blasted crimson snickers-of-doom on his feet.

“You look the same,” Kaito stated the obvious.

The cunning smile the other had used against tough opponents, spread across his face. “You too.”

From their lack of presence and weight, Kaito knew his monocle and top hat were missing. But he still expected to be wearing some part of his KID outfit. Instead, it was the unassuming black, dime-a-dozen, school uniform from his high school days. The kind of getup Edogawa Conan shouldn’t know about, considering he had never discovered KID’s civilian identity was Kuroba Kaito.

The oddities kept stacking on each other like a fragile house of cards. Should he question this nonsensical turn of events directly? Frontal attacks weren’t his thing, especially with the Great Detective of all people. It was already making his head hurt.

So, Kaito settled for some bait. “That was a low blow.” He grinned. "Shortie.”

The other simply cocked his head to the side and blinked. “Was it too obvious?”

“You think?!” Kaito exclaimed. Catching his breath, he tried to restore some semblance of his trusty poker face. "Even if you were the little detective, it’s been almost seven years since we last saw each other. He would have changed over time. Gotten a bit taller and all that." He waved a hand at their surroundings. “Then there is this place. I’m standing on water, instead of sinking. It doesn’t make sense, no matter how you cut it.”

“Is that so?” Whoever was masquerading as Conan asked with an innocent childlike curiosity. "I can’t control the appearance of this field. It comes from your subconscious. But, here I thought, seeing a familiar face would soften the blow. News like these give everyone a hard time."

Dread washed over Kaito’s back like a bucket of ice-cold water. “News? What news?”

"Magician Under the Moonlight,” Not-Conan said gravely. “What is the last thing you remember?"

Pure white light obscured one of his glasses's lenses and expanded outwards to swallow everything around them.

When Kaito lowered his arms, he was standing in the aisle of a convenience store. He was familiar with this particular arrangement of crispy chips on the shelf in front of him. It was the store near Aoko’s new apartment. He had gone there several times recently to grab a meal while they helped her renovate the house. Said renovation had been an eye-opener for many reasons; least of all learning that Hakuba Saguru—in all of his posh rich boy glory—didn’t shy away from manual labor.

The question remained though. What was so important about this scene?

Judging from the bag of popcorn in his hands, he had come to buy snacks. There was a faint memory ringing in the back of his mind. Some kind of gathering—a party or a movie night. The responsibility had apparently fallen on him for the food, and he had had to run here at the last minute. It was the most logical assumption. But it wasn't answering anything substantial.

Loud voices echoed from the other side of the store. Throwing the popcorn bag back to its place, Kaito hurried down the aisle. The shelves were too high for him to get a glimpse of the situation.

"...in the bag!"

"Let's…ca…wn."

From the bits and pieces of the conversation he could catch, it didn't sound good though.

If his memory served him right, the snacks aisle was the third parallel row from the entrance. He would have a clear view of the register when he reached the end of it. Taking a left turn, that moment’s glimpse got Kaito to backtrack behind the shelves immediately. Someone was trying to rob the convenience store with a gun.

This close to the mugging, the conversation was easier to hear.

"Don't mess around!" the robber yelled.

"I can assure you I'm not," someone said in the same tone he would speak to a wild animal.

Kaito peeked from behind the corner.

Standing like a shield between the armed robber and the young lady manning the register, was a teenage boy. His sweater and pants were a bit short for his lanky frame, suggesting a recent sudden growth spurt. Mousy brown hair, parted in the middle, clung sweaty to his forehead. He was putting on a brave act; a fact both admirable and foolish for a boy his age. But his skin was so pale. It made the freckles splattered across his face more prominent under the harsh fluorescent light.

Feeling like he was going through the same motions, Kaito realized he knew this kid. It was one of the Great Detective’s young friends. He was older, but their friend group’s penchant for ending up in hairy situations had remained the same. Kaito didn’t even have it in him to be surprised. A strong sense of justice and common sense rarely meshed well together.

The clerk’s sharp cry pulled Kaito out of his reminiscence. There was no time for this. Judging by the trembling of their body, the robber was getting impatient.

“You’re stalling,” they said.

“Of course not.” The kid took a step back. His voice cracked as he pleaded: “Please, sir. There is no need to escalate things fur—”

The robber raised the gun higher. “You should have stayed quiet in your corner. No one asked you to play the hero.”

Despite frantically patting his pockets, Kaito instinctively knew he wasn’t carrying something useful. He had left his card gun together with KID’s stuff when he retired from the life of a phantom thief. All that remained on his person were materials for parlor tricks. But he couldn't let someone die in front of him. Not again. Not on his watch.

So, Kaito ran. Each of his steps echoed against the walls and back to him with the precision of a countdown.

The clerk noticed him first, her expression frozen like a tragedy mask.

The kid managed to squeak some garbled words in surprise as Kaito’s shoulder connected with his chest. Shoving him out of the way, Kaito took his place in the line of fire.

The loud thump of the kid hitting the ground. His own ragged panting. Someone shouting a warning from somewhere close. Everything drowned from the sound of Kaito’s heartbeat.

The revolver’s canister was holding all of his attention.

It fired.

The scene blipped out of existence. As if someone had pulled the plug on a CRT monitor, only the fuzzy star-shaped afterglow remained in the dark. Kaito floated into nothingness for a moment, until something akin to a fishing line hooked under his ribcage. He was violently pulled back to the empty expanse of sky and water.

Not-Conan was waiting expectantly for his answer there.

The words weighed heavily on his tongue. After everything Kaito went through in his time as KID, this seemed anticlimactic. But there was no mistaking it.

"I died."

"Correct," Not-Conan chirped.

Ignoring his inappropriate cheerful tone, Kaito lamented—in the privacy of his mind—that if someone had to show up to guide him in the afterlife, that someone should have been his dad. Why take the form of the Great Detective, of all people? Then again, Kaito had been well aware of his little rival’s reputation outside of the KID heists.

"Are you some kind of Shinigami, then?" Kaito asked.

The other cupped his chin in thought. Considering he wasn't the Great Detective and he was aware of that, this mimicry of the real Conan’s mannerisms only baffled Kaito. There was no reason to continue with the pretense. Unless this entity’s goal was something else entirely.

“I guess…” Not-Conan drawled. "You could say I am their overseer."

Goosebumps crawled up Kaito's arms like slithering eels. Scanning their surroundings again, there weren’t any signs of hidden cameras or recording equipment. This wasn't some attempt to prank him, after all. Then, that meant…

Kaito sighed, resigned. "I know I’ve said this kid will be the death of me one day. But I didn’t mean it quite as literally.”

Death laughed. His voice held the same overjoyed childlike pitch as the real Edogawa Conan. "I can see why Lady Luck favors you," he said. "You are entertaining."

For an entity existing since the dawn of time, this guy's casual tone was suspicious. Nothing good ever came out of this kind of attitude, and Kaito was already dead. What else could Death possibly want from him?

He didn't let the discomfort show on his face though, and bowed. "As a magician, I aim to please my audience." Glancing back, he added with a small grin. "Even if that’s Life's critics."

Instead of getting offended, Death seemed pleased. "Quite the flatterer as well." His smile spread wider as he began to circle Kaito. "I must admit. It was a tiny bit frustrating seeing you escape, almost unscathed, situations that without a doubt would have cost you your life. But alas! There wasn't much I could do about it," he said, splaying his hands. "This was part of my agreement with the Lady."

These words piqued Kaito's curiosity,  but he could recognize the bait from miles away. After all, he had used similar methods as KID to get people to ask the wrong questions. 

"I am forever grateful to Lady Luck for her most welcome patronage," he said. "Unfortunately, isn't this the end of the line for me?"

Death spared a glance over his shoulder. "Not quite. You see, I had no reason to claim you so soon. There was another I wanted first. Someone whose hybris had been growing at such a steady pace, he was bound to come to me."

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, even though the sky remained spotless.

"He almost did when the time arrived. The drug had a ninety-nine percent chance of fatality, and yet. He managed to score the one percent that guaranteed his survival," Death snarled. His tiny hands grappled with nothing in the air. "After that, he kept brushing shoulders with me, always a breath away, but never close enough to true oblivion. Not from lack of effort on my part, mind you. I sent numerous challenges his way, and he still escaped all of them!"

Kaito hadn't seen such open hostility and malice on Conan's face before. Not once, during the three years they had spent crossing paths with each other. Even if Death was simply borrowing Conan’s appearance, it was still rather jarring. Whoever the person in question was, he must have used all his life's worth of luck to leave the manifestation of Death fuming like that.

"While I can see how this must be frustrating for you," Kaito offered. "I don't understand how it has anything to do with me, sir."

"On the contrary, the reason you're here is because of him." Death's mood brightened like a switch had flipped. "More specifically, the curse I had bestowed upon him."

This was odd. “I can’t see how that kid would have offended you enough for this. He’s only what? Sixteen-seventeen?”

“It’s not Tsuburaya Mitsuhiko.”

“Then who? If what you showed me is true, there were only four people at the store.”

"I suppose it didn't register in your consciousness," Death mumbled, and snapped his fingers. "Let's take another look at the crime scene."

Kaito was transported once again at the moment he had faced the wrong end of a gun. Everything was frozen in time. The robber had already pressed the trigger. As the bullet’s impact had thrown him off balance, Kaito found himself trapped in a body mid-fall. He couldn’t twitch even a finger. For someone perpetually in motion like him, this was pure torture.

“Don’t fret,” Death said nonchalantly. He stood in front of the store’s glass door, completely out of place in this scene. “It won’t take long.”

So much for being unable to influence this space. Doubts had been festering under Kaito’s skin since the first time Death had changed their surroundings. Doing it for a second time with this scale of control, brought another level of discomfort to the situation. What else was Death omitting until it was convenient for him to reveal?

"So, what now?" Kaito asked, as his head was the only thing he could move.

Death knocked at the glass pane behind his back. "Please divert your attention to this spot here."

It was a distorted reflection of the overall scene, as natural half-light from the outside meddled with the artificial one inside. Kaito could make out the forms of himself, the robber, and the rows of shelves behind them. Any further details were impossible to determine.

"Am I supposed to see something there?"

"You are looking but you're not seeing," Death complained. "Alright, I will clean it up for you." Waving his hand with the grace of a stage magician, he turned the frosted glass into a mirror.

Kaito's eyes widened in surprise. At the spot above his left shoulder, he could discern another young man emerging from the first aisle. He couldn't be older than Kaito's twenty-seven years. His casual suit jacket was open and he wasn't wearing a tie, so it was hard to pinpoint his job. But there was something overly familiar about him. It was in the intensity of his expression, caught mid-yell, like someone accustomed to jumping into dicey situations. His cerulean eyes had turned into steel. The force of his run had sent his bangs askew, but there was no mistaking that cowlick like a feathered antenna on his head.

"The Great Detective?" Kaito muttered, astonished. "How…?"

Snapping his fingers again, Death freed him from the partial paralysis.

Kaito dropped unceremoniously on the tiled floor. When he looked up again, everyone but themselves had disappeared from the scene. There was something eerie about it, least of all how the mirrored glass still showed the Great Detective's adult appearance.

Death had a smug smile plastered on his face. "Allow me to introduce you to the real identity of the person you called Edogawa Conan."

Leaning back, Death's Conan form passed through the glass—as if the latter was made out of water—and the reflection stepped outside. He dusted his shoulders and smoothed the sleeves of his suit. No doubt, stalling for some kind of dramatic flair.

It gave Kaito plenty of time to scramble back on his feet. They had the same height. Upon closer inspection, the Great Detective's face was similar enough to Kaito's too; it could have been the easiest disguise ever if he knew back then. What a shame.

"It would have backfired spectacularly. Depending on what you used this disguise for," Death said.

His voice was in the range Kaito had used as KID, but certainly more serious than playful.

Kaito narrowed his eyes. "Reading my thoughts now?"

"What makes you believe I wasn't doing this already?" Death buttoned up the suit jacket properly. "As to why I can change the appearance of some things here…Limbo takes the form of the spirit's inner world, yes. But I still have some administrative rights." His smile was too sharp for comfort. "You can't hide anything from me."

Kaito had never felt more exposed.

Maybe these were the consequences of letting go without proper closure. After all, KID's battle with the Great Detective had remained a draw. They had parted ways on amicable terms. Whatever case had been plaguing the little detective was over, and that had been enough for Kaito to know back then. Learning his rival's identity from a third party sounded wrong on so many levels. Even if he wouldn't be able to use this knowledge in the future.

He hated being robbed of having a choice, more than anything.

“It has all been a ruse, then?” Kaito asked.

“There is no doubt about your demise,” Death said. “I am simply offering to satisfy your curiosity. How could have a child bested you when he seemingly couldn’t have the same lived experience?”

“Alright, spill. What's his name?" Kaito kept his face as blank as he could. But he couldn’t hide the storm brewing in his chest just as well.

"There's no need to get aggressive." Death offered his hand. "Kudou Shinichi, detective."

Kaito had heard of him. Japan’s modern-day Sherlock Holmes. The savior of Tokyo’s Metropolitan police department. Another teenage detective, who had brushed shoulders with the KID once, before disappearing for three years. It seemed silly how Kaito had never made this connection himself. In his defense, he never saw any reason for it. Kudou Shinichi had stayed away from his case when he returned to the public eye. Almost as if, KID didn’t matter all that much to him.

"I can believe that's his default introduction, no matter his appearance," Kaito said fondly. It hurt. "I hope you won't get offended, sir, if I don't feel like shaking your hand right now."

Retracting his hand, Death had the nerve to look pleased with himself. "Most understandable."

They returned to the empty expanse of blue. The stillness of everything did nothing for Kaito's frayed nerves when Death kept Shinichi's form instead of reverting to Conan’s. This was a game to him, that much was certain. One Kaito had to play if he wanted to figure out why they were having this discussion, instead of his soul getting shipped to whatever afterlife awaited him.

"If the person you were talking about before is the Great Detective," Kaito started. "What is this curse you have given him?"

"Simply put, it attracts death around Kudou Shinichi.” Death had pulled another bowtie from his pocket and was trying to tie it around his neck. “I couldn’t force him to come to me, you see. Instead, I thought. If bystanders continued to drop like flies by simply existing in his vicinity, it would eventually make him despair enough to decide that on his own."

"Surely, it didn't faze him at all. He's a detective. Homicide cases could fall at his feet as often as it is for a magician to pull rabbits out of top hats."

"Every human has a threshold to how much of it they can handle. I simply miscalculated his resilience to pain, both physical and emotional. He was already tearing apart and putting himself hurriedly back together to return to his original body. Time after time, after time." Death had no right to sound this cheerful about it.

Kaito clenched his fists. "Was the crime of escaping you once, so great, that you had to condemn him for the rest of his life like this?"

"The rest of it? Oh, no. It is the definition of madness to repeatedly do the same thing and expect different results,” Death purred. "If he wasn't willing to come to me on his own, I might as well guide his hand."

"What do you mean?" Kaito asked, disgust coiling in his stomach.

"I changed the scope of his curse, you see. Instead of everyone around him being in grave danger, the target now is Kudou Shinichi himself."

"Are you saying that…” The ramifications of this train of thought hit Kaito like a punch in the gut. “If I hadn't gotten myself involved, the Great Detective would have died?”

Using his reflection on the lake's surface, Death nonchalantly fixed his bowtie. “Hopefully.”

Anger surged through Kaito's body like a massive wave. He wanted to blame the predicament of his soul being scrubbed raw for someone's entertainment that he couldn't keep his cool. But then again, he had spent so many years pretending that nothing could hurt him; that he was alright on his own; that KID's mantle wasn't as heavy as Jii-chan or his mother had suggested on one occasion too many. So, pardon him for getting mad on another's behalf.

Kaito grabbed Death by the lapel of his suit. "This is all one big joke to you, isn't it? It doesn't matter if he helped countless victims find some semblance of peace. What you want is one life that managed to survive a little longer than you expected."

"There is no scale on which lives are measured, despite what you humans want to believe." Death tried to pry his hands open, but Kaito wouldn't budge. "Someone will die in every second that another might live. No one is more important than the next. Death comes for everyone. That's how it is."

"You just admitted to having an open vendetta against an ordinary human," Kaito hissed. "Which words do you expect me to believe? You hypocrite!"

"For someone that couldn't die, no matter how reckless he got, you have no right to complain."

"Then why am I here?"

"It is due to the fact that someone cheated," a different voice echoed all around them.

Death disappeared in a puff of smoke and materialized a few steps away. "Stay out of this," he shouted to the sky.

"You can not speak my name without expecting me to appear, dear." This voice's range was higher. Almost feminine, but not quite at the same time. "I could not remain idle when you are interfering with the fate of my ward."

"Lady Luck?" Kaito asked, taking a look around.

Her giggle resonated like a wind chime. "I am afraid I can not appear in a physical form you are familiar with," she said and a soft breeze tousled Kaito's hair. "I am here, nonetheless."

He wanted to lean into the caress, if only for a moment's relief. But he had to regain his composure. There were too many things hanging in the balance, even with a more than welcomed ally on his side.

Death huffed. "You are making it sound like I am a villain here."

"From a human's perspective, you are being unfair—even exceptionally cruel, dear. What's one life compared to all the million others in the world, if they are equal?" Lady Luck said. "From our perspective, you are twisting the terms of a fair deal to fit your selfish desires." Her voice took the unmistakable tone Chikage had whenever she would catch Kaito's younger self doing mischief around the house. “After Toichi, you promised me that you wouldn’t meddle with those looking to destroy Pandora. Are you going back on your word?”

Heavy gray storm clouds appeared overhead as a cold gale blew around them. Kaito tried to keep his balance, but the water rippled violently under his feet. Falling on his knees, he braced against the lake’s surface. Like the hard glass he had come across on skyscrapers, it didn’t let him pass through. However, only for a moment, it stopped reflecting the sky like a mirror. A large yellow eye—its pupil slit like a cat’s—was looking back at him.

“THE DEBT MUST BE PAID!”

This roar echoed distorted. As if several different voices were trying to speak together, but couldn't help being slightly out of sync.

Above the surface, Death’s Shinichi form had purple-green smoke coming out of his body. His shoulders heaved as he panted heavily. This outburst must have been taxing to him if his real body was down there.

Kaito couldn't see it anymore. Only his ordinary reflection stared back, troubled frown and all. He wasn’t the elusive phantom thief KID anymore. In his humble opinion, he had settled into his life as a civilian just fine before his death. What could he do against an entity like this?

A warm feeling settled like a blanket on his shoulders. "Isn't a magician's job to make the impossible happen?" Lady Luck whispered in his ear. "You already have everything you need."

Her presence dissipated, but her words struck a chord in Kaito's heart. She was right. He wasn't one to stop when the odds turned against him. If anything, there was nothing more boring than a heist that wasn't challenging.

Taking a deep breath, Kaito rose to his feet. "I have one more question. Pandora is real, right?"

"Yes." Death pushed his bangs out of his eyes. His irises flickered between gold and cerulean before they settled for Shinichi's eye color. "What of it?"

"Oh, nothing. I just thought it was interesting how you weren't anxious about such an item still existing," Kaito said with a shrug. "Since I never found it and all."

Suspicion clouded Death's expression. "You're scheming something."

"Now, now. All I'm saying is that you were caught red-handed breaking your end of a very valuable agreement. Turns out, you can't claim me while I'm searching for Pandora. And yet, here I am in Limbo." Spinning around his axis, he made sure the last word echoed far and wide. "Getting your hands on the Great Detective's life can't be more important than a gem that grants immortality, can it? You won't have any work left to do."

"Those humans stopped looking for Pandora," Death said. "You made sure of it."

Kaito circled around him with slow deliberate steps. "Yeah, but who's to say someone else won't restart the search? It's been two years since KID's last heist. The announcement of my death might inspire some courage in the Organization’s remnants. There will be no one left to get in their way."

"Don't insult my intelligence," Death barked. "As if there is anyone who knows your real identity."

"But you can't be so sure about that, can you?” Kaito paused. “Face it. The possibility is there, and you've just discarded your most valuable card by letting me die."

Death hummed, contemplating it. "Even if I reverse the natural order of things, there is no guarantee you will succeed. You already gave up on Pandora once."

"I did," Kaito admitted. It had been his hardest decision as KID. One he had been willing to take if some semblance of normality would finally return to his life. "After searching for so long, I figured it was more reasonable to destroy their Organization with human resources—than rely on some mystical gem that may or may not exist."

"You had to create a fake one to convince them either way." Crossing his arms over his chest, Death changed his approach. "What makes you believe this conversation is real, to begin with? It could be a trick of your mind to process the shock of getting shot in a vital organ. Even figuring out Edogawa Conan's true identity could be a long-time coming deduction you had been too afraid to make."

"Now that sounds like something the Great Detective would say," Kaito chuckled. "But trying to convince me it's all in my head, this late in the game, can only mean I'm making you nervous."

Death glared at him. It was a terrifying expression to have on Shinichi's face.

Finishing his circling right in front of him, Kaito offered his hand. "I'm not even supposed to be here anyway. If you're going to send me back, you might as well cut yourself a deal for your efforts. Because I will track Pandora down and destroy it this time," he said with conviction. "And since I'm being merciful enough to ignore your transgression on behalf of the Lady, I have only one condition. When I succeed, you have to leave the Great Detective alone for his actual remaining life. It's a small price to pay, don't you say?"

Bell chimes echoed softly in the air. Death cocked his head to the side as if listening in to the inaudible words. They probably reached an agreement with Lady Luck because the next time he focused his attention on Kaito, Death had that infuriating smirk on his face again.

"Why not?" He clasped Kaito's hand. It burned. "I would love to see you try."

Ignoring the pain, Kaito shot a smile back. "Prepare to be surprised, sir. You have the front row to my greatest magic show yet!"

"I am counting on it," Death said, releasing him.

The lake swallowed Kaito before he could snark back any further. It was freezing cold. He covered his mouth and nose, more out of some self-preservation instinct than an actual need. He couldn't drown in this place, and he knew that. Slowly, he opened his eyes. A few rays of light pierced the water from above, giving it a teal hue. Nothing was swimming around him. There was only this massive wall on Kaito's right, stretching far and wide into the darkness below. Some curious part of him wanted to get closer and figure out what it was. Patches of seaweed, barnacles, and even corals were growing on its surface.

But a prickly feeling spread on Kaito's chest at the thought. No, something else should be here too. Where is that thing?

Right before his eyes, the wall rippled as a crack spread horizontally on it. It widened with a terrible rumble, revealing two rows of cone-shaped rocks. Kaito's mind tried to convince him of it. But there was no mistaking the gloss of ivory. He had seen enough ornaments in museums so far, decorated with animal tusks or teeth, to recognize them.

Laughter permeated the waters, the voices mocking him. "You do not comprehend the size of what you are up against, little magician."

The creature's mouth widened further, revealing a cavernous darkness akin to the depths of the ocean. It created a swirling current in the water that dragged Kaito inside.

Fear spreading across his shoulders and crossing down his spine, Kaito found the strength for one final act of rebellion. You better keep your end of the deal, or so help me, I'll make you regret it.

The jaws snapped shut around him.

Kaito gasped. Instead of water, he gulped down air; stale and tasting like some B-grade detergent, but sweet nonetheless.

Voices filled with urgency the darkness still plaguing his surroundings.

"Mitsuhiko! How long till the ambulance is here?" The Great Detective shouted from somewhere nearby.

"They still need ten minutes," the boy replied hastily.

He clicked his tongue. "Miss, do you have a first aid kit around?"

As the clerk lady gave an affirmative answer, Kaito's eyelids fluttered open.

The fluorescent light turned out to be too bright for his eyes. To keep them open, Kaito forced his attention on the tiles. Candy was littering the floor around him like confetti. From the force of the gunshot, he had hit the small shelves in front of the register. Someone had propped him up against them later.

He took another hurried wheezing breath. His chest hurt, as if someone had driven a hammer through his ribcage. Getting shot had that kind of effect, no matter the body part. He had enough first-hand experience on the matter to testify about it.

"Hey, slow down." Hands reached out to support him, one from just below his ribcage and one on his shoulder. They were warm. "You are badly hurt."

Blood had splattered across his jacket. The front of his shirt was soaked as well. "You don't. Say," Kaito grunted.

Gathering his remaining courage, he shifted his gaze to the person in front of him.

The Great Detective—Shinichi—was on his knees, trying to keep Kaito's body from moving too much. It was almost uncanny to have the face that Death mocked him with, staring back with such obvious concern etched on it.

"Don't speak for now," Shinichi said softly. "You should conserve your strength."

Kaito couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "If I knew. It'd make you. Look at me. Like this," he rasped as pain shot through his chest, "I'd have tried it. A long time ago."

"What…"

"You're a tough crowd to get his attention off." Kaito cupped Shinichi's cheek. "Great Detective."

After his initial surprise, the gears in his head appeared to turn. Shinichi narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

But Kaito couldn’t find the words to reply. Amidst the haze in his own head, it was getting harder and harder to focus too. The sights were already darkening again at the edges.

"Wait!” Shinichi pleaded, securing his hold on Kaito. “You need to stay awake!"

"Don't worry." Kaito patted Shinichi's cheek and let his hand fall into his lap. "It's a short break. I'll be back soon."

Blood had smeared across Shinichi's cheekbone. It painted a stark difference against the ashy tone his skin had taken. For a moment, Kaito thought yellow cat-like irises were staring back at him from that face.

"Would you now?" Death's voice echoed teasingly in his ears.

Kaito blinked. The effect was gone. Instead, his worried rival continued mouthing words that couldn't reach him at the moment.

Of course. Kaito thought, letting his heavy eyelids drop once more. I'll definitely save him.

#dcmk #detective conan #dcmk fanfic #dcmk fic #magic kaito #case closed #kuroba kaito #kudou shinichi #edogawa conan #original non-human characters #fanfiction #fanfic #canon divergence #wolfswriting #if you've seen me posting this before; my bad #I wanted to try something else once again lol #and I really liked this banner I made! #thank you to everyone who has enjoyed my humble little story so far ♥ #ghosts of the past (keep coming back for us)

[bahllinsqrews]

Oh To Have An Angel...Pt.1

What this part will contain:

Demon!Yeosang, Angel!Reader

Blood and gore mentions

Human, Angel Deaths

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Inspiration from a story from @yourfatherlucifer, their villain story really put a pen into my heart to write this so I hope you enjoy.

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Masterlist

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The day was bright, some enjoyed it, the Angels specifically. One even became bright eyed and bushy tailed to it, an angel named Y/N. He was the brightest of the Angels that shined brighter than the rest thanks to his continuous good work to the humans on earth. Though with a lot of good things, one bad piece always followed and it pissed one of the strongest demons off down below the surface. His name was Yeosang.

Each time he attempted to take a life from a human, you was there to stop it, to talk them out of it and it made him enraged. He may not have had wings to catch him in the skies, but of course, a demon had other ways of getting around. He kept a close eye on the angel in question, using a portal to shift himself into the human world above, keeping out of sight for now. He was waiting for an opportunity to catch the angel off guard, he knew that tonight would be a good night to do it. Though, you weren't the only angel out. Angel Mingi was roaming as well, keeping track of all the humans you've saved. He was the only thing keeping him from executing the plan since you two slept together.

"Gonna have to get rid of the big guy before I do anything with that goody two shoes, white winged nuisance..." The devil said, biting his finger to the point of blood, keeping his aura of anger down enough for others not to notice. He moved quickly, a ball of black smoke bouncing around the roof tops toward the angel's resting place. He cursed when Mingi was already there, and he didn't have enough power to break the barriers on the place so he had to snack on a few humans. He looked around the city and found some of the darkest people taking a few school girls hostage in a warehouse. He decided to help out by getting his snack in return.

The first guy was the one holding the first girl they brought, they dropped the girl as the male was dragged into the ceiling, crunching, cracking, blood spilling and pooling below, onto the floor made the girls scream and run away, bones snapping, flesh in smashing teeth before the remains were dropped for the other men to see. One was in a panic and as he shot his gun into the ceiling, he was next to go. Seonghwa used his new growing power to close the doors before landing in front of the last guy standing. Yeosang had taken his demonic wolf form to tower above him while the male prayed to God and his angels.

It made Yeosang laugh. His next words were said in a deep voice. "Praying to God when you were just about to commit an act against his wishes? How unbelievably pathetic..God nor his angels will help you now...not when you've strayed so far into darkness...but I'll help you...let me give you a kiss~" he said with a smile that was more evil than the king of hell himself. The next few moments were the same as the two before him, but with him controlling them, Yeosang made sure to take his time, making the torture painfully slow, listening to his screams in agony, giving him much more power. He only needed more to remove the barrier, then to take out the angel Mingi.

He will soon have his prize...

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Days passed at a time and Yeosang was taking more and more humans that you couldn't save from their evil ways. He liked that, he would influence those and whisper nasty things to make them move further into darkness, it was making you try harder and push more of his own power to fall further and further into exhaustion. He knew if he pushed just enough, the barrier wouldn't be the problem. It was only Mingi that stopped him. Since you were so tired, he's been trading back and forth to give you some time to rest and of course, Mingi was too good at his job. He called him on a fake prayer from a human, Yeosang forcing her to pray to protect her, only for Mingi to be led into the trap of other demons who he had banished under God's word.

Mingi felt a sense of fear as he was surrounded by the tens of hundreds of demons he had once faced. His wings felt weak, too weak to carry him thanks to the demon chain magic that was cast upon him on arrival. His breath only quickened as the demons for closer and closer, then they attacked, scratching tearing and beating at him, he managed to fight off a few, but lost a lot of energy in the process, causing him to fall short to remaining demons and become food for them, being eaten to the very last morsel. This made Yeosang smile, one down, another to go.

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I would like some feedback about this, I was a little scared to write it but I wanted to make my first series on this so let me knowwww

#ateez #kpop #ateez imagines #mingi #kang yeosang #yeosang

[lightning-of-farosh]

Mermaid Legend

I think this was a livewrite at some point but i never edited it and i never posted it. have some mer-legend!

Sand billowed out in small, rolling clouds, kicked up by a flat, pink fin. Fish darted out of the way, fleeing beneath the shadow of wide stingray wings and into the deep corners of a reef. Nothing followed them; the merman happy enough to weave between a shiver of frowning sharks.

He bopped one on the top of the head and darted off into deeper, bluer waters.

 Desert stretched out before Legend; flat and full of sand, of wilderness, of everything and nothing all at once. He dragged his fingers along the ocean floor, winding back and forth with no set direction only to turn and watch as the murkiness he created settled grumpily behind him.

Spring had given way to summer, the waters warmed by currents from the south. Storms were replaced by bright blue skies and heavy sunlight that drew gold patterns along the sand. Legend admired the way they played across the stripes along his tail.

A sea turtle passed below him. No place to go, no place to be.

Dropping his hand, Legend traced the pattern along its shell with a finger and watched it head deeper into the blue. Sounds echoed from further out; whales and dolphins and beasts that had more teeth than he did. He debated heading over to see what the fuss was about but turned, instead, into a roll and kicked off in a random direction.

Darkness passed over him and Legend curled, watching the triangular shadow for a second. It flittered from left to right then back again and he darted after it, chasing across the sea floor with a boyish grin on his lips. One kick got him close enough that he could pounce, burying his fingers into the sand—

An octopus flashed bright red and scurried in the other direction.

Legend blew a few bubbles after it in apology and turned on his back, watching the shadow dart back and forth above him. Metal settled against his chest and he reached up absently, running his fingers along the edge of a ring before tangling his fingers in the leather necklace it was hanging from.

A bird passed over head. Another followed. He followed them with lazy flicks of his tailfin and spread out his arms to glide. The heaviness of the warm waters settled in his skin, chasing away the coolness that had been there for so long. Blonde hair drifted around his face, swirling like a pleasant storm. Pink was returning to it after all those years of dying it black and blonde.

He had missed it.

Somewhat.

Fish scattered around him and Legend flared out his fins, using the drag to slow him to a stop. There were shadows above, shadows below. A school broke and formed around him, twisting as one and parting as many.

Legend swam below it, settling with his back in the sand to watch feathers break the surface of the water as beaks snatched what they could. It would have been easier for the birds with a pod of dolphins circling like a pack of shepherds because the fish would have nowhere to go.

As it was, the school simply parted and most of the birds shot back into the sky empty bellied.

Wondering—briefly—which group he should play with, Legend brushed his tail back and forth through the sand. It rose around him, drifting like a storm cloud across his bright scales, and there was a distant rumble of thunder.

He twisted, eyeing the sunlight that drifted through the surface, at the shadows of birds and fish and half formed clouds that dotted the bottom of the sea. Ignoring the dance of predator and prey behind him, Legend kicked away from the sand and broke the surface. His hair stuck to his face and ears, clinging to his skin and he wiped it out of the way with a scowl.

There was a pod of clouds in the distance. Grey. Dark. Heavy. They were singular in the sky; a patch of darkness on a blue canvas.

A seagull squawked above him. Legend glanced up at it and frowned.

“Yeah, yeah,” He told it and rolled his eyes. His fin caught the water and he kicked forward, diving back under the surface and shooting off towards the out-of-place storm. A few smaller fish got caught in his wake and were brushed to the side, little fins rushing to dart out of his way.

Legend didn’t notice, arching over the remains of a small fishing boat, around a small forest of kelp, and twisting between two of the larger boulders.

One scraped along his dorsal but he ignored it, watching the sky darken the closer he got to the storm. The water grew shallower; crab claws replacing small schools of fish and old nets threatened to snatch him from where they had been caught along rocks and branches of white streaked coral.

Heavy waves picked up the sand and he swam up, surfacing a second time to look up at the side of a towering cliff.

A wave crashed against the back of his head and Legend cursed when he was forced back under.

Stupid, he thought, waiting for another to pass before rising again. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the different light and he kicked to steady himself, arms stretched out for balance. Crested white caps pushed against him, trying to nudge him closer to sharpened rocks but he kicked against the force, fighting to keep place.

Light flashed in the darkness. Thunder rumbled above his head.

Beyond the small patch of the storm, there was nothing but clear blue skies.

Magic.

He dropped back down and swam back, closer to the edge of the clouds and kicked hard against the bottom to shoot up. Half his torso breeched the waves.

A flash of silver steel, of brown, of green.

Lightning crashed from the heavens, echoing a howl of rage.

Legend dropped back into the water before the earth shattering boom could rattle his bones.

Definitely magic. His fingers dug into sand and he watched for any more angry flashing light—but it only flickered, fading away and leaving the clouds behind. Legend pushed off the sea floor, rising slowly, and peeked his eyes above the waves to look up at the sky. His heart was hammering in his chest, old memories of storms rising like a tsunami in his chest—

Red caught his eye and he twisted, baring his teeth in a half formed snarl.

Fire fell, spitting and sparking, into the waves. It existed for a moment in the water despite its nature and then faded, swallowed up by the unforgiving ocean. Small bits of rock tumbled down the cliffside, knocked astray by a heel.

Legend turned his gaze up to the young man backed up against the ledge.

His blade was a hungry blaze, arching to block the swing from a mace, the thrust of a sword, the arch of an axe. Creatures with the faces of pigs and canines and lizards snarled at him, climbing over each other to get closer.

Legend cursed himself for leaving his sword behind as he reached for the ring against his chest.

Well, it wouldn’t matter. A rock could bash in a monster skull if it was thrown hard enough.

He tugged on the leather necklace, prepared to pull it over his head when hands grabbed a green tunic, pulling the teenager away from the edge of the cliff.

That’s nice of them, Legend thought. They normally try to push me off it.

The teen wrenched out of their grip, green fabric tearing as he stepped back—

His weight teetered backwards, shield flung out as if for balance. Gravity wrapped hungry, desperate fingers around the heavy metal and tugged the kid off the cliff and into the waters below.

“Shit!” Legend cried, diving under the water and racing forward. Not the rocks, he begged, having to take it slow because of the sand kicked up from the storm. Not the rocks, not the rocks, not the—*

His fingers found cloth. Found skin. He wrapped his arms around a chest and kicked back, heading up and away, diagonal from any possible danger. Nails dug into his shoulders and something batted uselessly against Legend’s chest as he kicked and kicked and kicked.

They surfaced with a gasp and he looked down at messy brown hair, at wide, half-coloured eyes—

A palm shoved against his face.

Legend sputtered and a fist knocked against his chin, his collar, his shoulder. “Wait, wait!” He almost dropped back beneath the surface. “Shit, kid! Stop it—!”

“Let go of me!” Toes caught on his scales and pushed.

“Fine! Hylia,” Legend snarled. “Have it your way,” He said, shoving the kid away.

The brown haired teen stayed above the water for a second, arms and legs flailing uselessly.

And then he dropped like a stone.

“Shit!” Legend scrambled down after him. He grabbed the back of the tunic that time, wrenching the teen back to the surface.

He was coughing, gagging on salt water.

Serves him right.

“What the hell, kid!”

“Geddoff me!”

“No!” Legend shook him like a misbehaving shark. “You can’t swim, you idiot!”

A hand missed his ear by inches. “Screw you! I’m not going back with you—”

Wait, Legend blinked. What?

“—pig faced, ugly ass, red loving shit stain of a—”

“First of all,” Legend cut him off, “rude. Look at me. I’m none of those things.”

The kid splashed water at his face.

Little shit.

Legend shook him again for good measure.  “Second of all, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Narrowed eyes stared at him, searched his face, caught on the point of his ears and the line of his jaw.

And then they looked down.

“You have a tail.”

Goddess, Legend rolled his eyes. “And you have legs. Let’s move on.”

“Why do you have a tail?”

“Because my mommy had one and my daddy had one and one day they decided to make babies—”

There was a splash behind them. Both turned and watched one of the lizards slipping through the waves like a serpent.

“Fuck,” Legend bared his teeth and watched the silver beast get closer. Its eyes flashed yellow in the lightening shadows as electricity sparked across the horn on its head. “Give me your sword.”

The teen muttered something.

“What?”

Brown eyes flashed. “I said ‘I dropped it’!”

“Dropped it? Where?”

“Where do you think, genius?”

Legend cursed.

The lizard was getting closer. Above them, the storm clouds were clearing.

“Don’t hit me again,” Legend told the teen, turning around and pulling him closer. “And hang on.”

Timid fingers brushed against his shoulder then gained more confidence as they brushed against the leather of his necklace and the scales along his collar. Arms locked around his neck and Legend could feel the pounding of the kid’s heart against his back.

“Deep breath,” he said and waited for the sharp sound of an inhale before dropping. Using the extra weight to spin around, Legend kick off towards the side of the cliff.

The shadow of the lizard passed overhead. Sharp, white claws were too slow and Legend’s tail slipped easily past its grasp.

His burst of speed put enough distance between them and the monster for a moment and Legend used his hands to feel for stone and kelp and sand.

Bubbles blew past his hair.

Hang on, kid, he thought, patting frantically against the sand. Hang on, hang on—

The grip around his neck loosened.

Legend’s fingers hit metal. He snatched the hilt of the silver blade, dug out the shield beside it, and tucked both against his chest as he shot towards the surface. 

There was a frantic, desperate gasp against his ear and the teen shuddered against his back, shaking and coughing wetly against his shoulder.

“You okay, kid?” Legend adjusted his grip on the sword and watched as a crocodile shaped head lifted out of the water.

The monster opened its mouth bearing its curved, pointed teeth.

Legend bared his right back.

Coughing continued against his back, but the hand against his chest curled and offered a weak thumbs up.

Good lad, Legend thought, pressing the shield against his chest with one hand and hoisting the sword with the other. “Take another deep breath for me, then.”

There was a grumble against his skin. It was probably something rude.

Despite himself, Legend smiled. The kid had fight in him. That was good.

Lungs expanded and he heard the rush of an inhale. Legend dropped back below the surface and pushed himself as fast as he could, rushing forward in a roar of bubbling water. The sword was held out in front of him like a spear as sand rose in his wake, launched up with the force of his kicking. The lizard creature scrambled out of his way with a screech and Legend laughed, spinning he took the boy on his back further and further into the open ocean.

#Linked Universe #LU Legend #LU Hyrule #Fabulist Tales