#not just w the way i drew her or even the design | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Celebrities use Tumblr as well.

#not just w the way i drew her or even the design

yet-another-haven-of-dollya · 4 months

Note

can i ask advice ;; drawing wise ? how did you start to anatomy but also w stylization? did you bruteforce by studying every bone muscle etc in art school?

hmm...

First, you must distinguish between two completely different concepts: gesture and anatomy. The stylization and dynamic you often see me doing with my dancing practice is "Gesture". This is an excellent tutorial by Proko about gestures. I practiced gestures very soon when I started drawing, simply because I wanted to draw dynamically, lucky for me it was the right thing to do. This was the main reason why I'm so fast at sketching.

This is my gesture practice, 1 min, 2 min, and 5 min sketch. It's about the flow of the body and which direction each part is going, use "sharp and coherent lines". I practice until it becomes a "natural reflex", a habit when I look at people's interactions.

This below is something I drew 3 years ago (my anatomy was not good sorry), notice how I use many many coherent lines? At the thigh, shin, arm stretching,... all the bigger areas? That's the remaining of gestures.

It goes without saying. Try to find the flow of gestures, even for the hair or clothes. Heh, I drew this 4 years ago, how nostalgic.

You can see how I just create the flow with Lya's hair and body movement in the dancing pics too. Like with Kylar's pic her body is straight up one quite hard mass from head to toe. You know she's leaning forward, seemingly wanting to abandon Kylar with a "pathetic loser like you? With me?" attitude (ouchie sorry Kylar nation). While in Sydney's pic she seems much more relaxed and enjoys how her body parts seem to loosen and more in sync with Sydney's movements. Her hip and legs sway more, and her hair also sways back at Sydney's body, hinting that her moves are relatively close to his body. I don't think I have enough vocabulary to describe, gestures are always just "feelings" to me. If people see what I want to show, that's the success for me.

I know many self-learners started by finding random tutorials that have muscle breakdown or box-like proportions to try and mimic. Mimic is good, drawing is mimicking and remembering what you saw, but without good gesture practice, many people tend to make anatomy very stiff.

Then, you start to apply anatomy to the gestures you've practiced. One way to do it is by learning about muscle position first, and then trying to apply it to a figure, or a model. This is my homework and it's HORRIBLY WRONG IN MANY WAYS. My teacher fixed it for me but I don't have the after with me right now, so take this as an example of how to do the apply thing, DO NOT USE IT AS MUSCLE REF it's very wrong.

In my opinion bone structure is not strictly needed like muscles. Bones are for muscles to hang onto. You only need to remember some important "landmarks" like the collarbone, elbow joint, anterior pelvis, knee, and ankle,… to hang the important muscles to it. After you're familiar with muscles and gestures, you can start to stylize. Applying your knowledge to animated characters with cartoonish design is one great way. THESE HOMEWORKS OF MINE ARE STILL WRONG but ye hope you get the idea. I'm still struggling with anatomy.

One of my all-time fav are AFK ARENA artists and what they do for the game. Aki as the main artist, Kuri Huang, and another artist I suddenly forgor the name as home screen illust. I recommend researching their works if you want a direction on how to stylize your character with great dynamic gestures and shapes.

And

As much as I hate to say this, I was particularly considered a failure, a stone-head, who couldn't be changed for the better when I was still in art school - uni. My chosen major was digital graphic design, not specified in drawing but in designing, that's one thing I regret. I traded 5 years of my youth for doing the things I don't want to do. That's why the moment I graduated, I immediately went and signed up for an advanced art class specified in drawing. I'd be lying if I said the uni didn't teach me anything about drawing. They did, but almost everything I learned during 5 years of uni was self-learning from outer sources. I encourage self-learning the most when I talk with younger artists. Proko is a very trusted source to learn from, go to their YouTube channel, and you might figure out something too.

#dollya ask #not a drawing tutorial just my personal experiences

166 notes · View notes

cheetah-roll · 2 months

Text

Some assorted MCYT drawings

1) A drawing of the Flying Fish SIblings :D. Minus Martyn because there wasn't enough space. ;w;

It's supposed to be all of them sitting on two walls. There's one wall then a strip of grass and the other wall?? The perspective is really bad lmao

Grian's just teasing Jimmy as normal and Lizzie being the older sibling is scolding him and Pearl is just watching from up on the wall. Martyn is just answering all his asks from his Tumblr blog or something.

I headcanon them all as siblings. Lizzie and Jimmy technically are siblings because of Empire's SMP season 1, but none of the characters are actually siblings in any other SMP's. It's fine though because this fandom runs on an unholy amount of fanon and fan speculation (also the lore that Martyn IntheLittleWood feeds us) and that's what's fun about it. They all act like siblings anyways, and have a sibling dynamic, so it's fine lol

2) I'm making reference sheets for my designs of all the Traffic Life Series characters. Here's Etho :D

3) LIZZIE!!! I recently remade this one. The old one looked terrible. A lot of detail in this one because she's my favorite <3

She's an absolute girlboss and deserved so much better in the Life Series. Like, let the girl have her villian arc before giving her the most tragic death ever I swear. She at least got a small one in Last Life but it was cut so short in Secret Life :(

I also drew some little bisexual and trans pins on her sweater. She's not trans but I like to think that her characters are

4) Some doodles of all the Life Series Girls!! I love them all so much it’s not even funny anymore. They’re all so amazing and their character arcs are all so good and they need to be appreciated more <3

Featuring Buff Gem because she’s super jacked because I say so 5) Cleo reference sheet!! <33

6) Gem reference sheet!! Slightly outdated design, because I’ve changed the way her legs look to make them more natural and deer like if that makes sense lol

Centaur Gem as well because I love it when people draw her as a centaur.

Also another little drawing of Buff Gem

7) Grian reference sheet!! This one is pretty old and I’m planning on remaking it soon. His legs just look a little strange and the art is slightly outdated. He also looks too tall lol

8) A pretty old piece of art, but it’s of Empires Lizzie and Pearl.

9) Pretty recent little doodle page of assorted MCYT. The biggest drawing is of Shubble because we love Shubble and she needs all the support she can get rn Also a little drawing of Shrub because I love Shrub with all my heart and soul

I really like the Gem and Grian drawings as well :D

35 notes · View notes

greenscreen-dress · 10 months

Text

Vocalsynth doodle page!! I haven’t doodlepaged in ages!!! ^^ Started off with No plan, Song of Eared Robot came up on the playlist so i drew Tetobot, then i just kept going w the singing robots bc they’re the miracle cure for my artblock apparently. Only stopped bc while drawing Po-Uta I made the “mistake” of listening to his demo song and after that I was too busy sobbing /pos to pick a new synth :’D

If the colour saturation is Way Too Much on any of these uuh blame my computer screen, as always it tells naught but lies but I’m too tired to doublecheck on my phone x). Also i might go back n shade some of these properly, so if i do i’ll tweak the saturation while I’m at it ^^;

Closeups, rambles & more song links below the cut!

Kasane Tetobot from the absolute banger Song of the Eared Robot

Tetobot SV design attempt, it has potential but i’m too attached to the clunky charm of the OG ^^. Mostly listened to this UTAU cover while drawing her, but everyone should check out this masterpiece by suzie with the SynthV VB

Miku go ooeeoo. No comment no thoughts head empty just :D

THE GUYYYY :’) if he looks like he’s crying it’s bc i was, see above :D (also suffering bc his hair shape was a pain to draw but MOSTLY bc of the gorgeousness of Humansongs... & then Circus’s banger Right As Rain... and then The Surface by Eggtan which i just discovered today, so nice to find a new original song & it’s so prettyyy... i’m getting sidetracked)

...Girl if someone stuck me in a trenchcoat long jeans knee-high boots and a SCARF as my default outfit my character item would be ice cream too. o7 for the blue boi, I don’t think i’ve ever drawn Kaito before and that absolutely has to change. Also TIL how to draw fans i guess!

Heehee hoohoohoo the sillay the child the creatura the Otomachi Una. Wanted to see if i could doodle her delightful deviantart OC-lookin design off by heart and I think i mostly got it right? The only major thing i forgot were the horns on her hat, & she felt so wrong once i noticed that i had to add them ^^; I love her somuch :D

Ogh dingus fcuk it’s 1:30 a.m uuuh whoops i go zzz now. The art creativity juices are there, mainly i don’t drawn bc I just take so LONG to get Literally Anything Finished, even a doodlepage like this takes me 7+ hours so i just. don’t sit down & draw if i know it’s gonna eat up my entire day lol. SCHREEPTIME. NOW. :D

65 notes · View notes

panicatthediaz · 5 months

Text

Can you feel it?

What is this? A brand new fic for @eddiemonth? And so soon after?? (shut up this feels soon)

This is day 06, crush, and is in the same continuity as day 5. Named after Mansionair's Astronaut (Something About Your Love), that like. Please listen to them. They are a whole vibe, I love their music.

Warnings: None, this is just even more fluff. Extremely sappy get together. Steddie. I should start calling this section, like. tags or smth.

Wordcount: 2968

If he were to be honest with himself, Eddie hadn't expected to keep this monster hunting party in his life, not for long. He expected everyone to go on their way, while he was fumbling just to get out of the town.

Well, some people did go their own way. Older Byers was off to college in California with Argyle, after some extensive talk with his family and with Nancy, and Nancy herself was off in Boston.

But everyone else? Well, the kids had to finish high school before going anywhere, and Robin had decided to take a gap year that was about to end. And Steve…

Between joint recoveries and sharing almost the same group of people (and eventually truly having all the same friends), they had spent a lot of time together. They had become friends, good friends, not necessarily by choice, but the truth was that Eddie wouldn't change it for the world.

But sometimes, it was nice to just… exist. To be able to not think about the feelings he’d realized that were growing not too long ago. About how, even though he’d only noticed them recently, the feelings hadn’t been really new. About how it looked reciprocated, sometimes.

Eddie expected to hear about Steve’s plans to get out of town any day now, maybe tag along with Robin, so why do anything about the something that was brewing, right?

Deep down, Eddie knew Steve wouldn’t leave before the kids’ senior year started. At the earliest. Eddie felt pretty much the same already, after knowing them for only a little over a year. According to Robin, they did have that effect somehow.

(Something about how young they all were to have been at the whole supernatural thing for years.)

After dropping El and Will back home, he’d driven himself to a secluded little clearing, having to go the long way around so he’d actually be able to drive his van into it. But it was worth it, it’d always been worth it.

Eddie grabbed a few of the blankets stashed at the back of his van and threw them on top of it before climbing up himself. Setting up his little makeshift bed up there was a quick process; a couple of blankets to make the roof a little more comfortable, and the rest bunched together into a pillow.

It wasn’t particularly good, but it was part of his summer routine at this point, so he settled down, lying on the roof of his van. He watched the clear, evening summer sky fade into night, watching the stars come out slowly and then all at once as the animal sounds faded and changed to accompany the sky.

Some birds — owls, if he had to guess — and bats were flying overheard, occasionally cutting his vision of the stars and changing the tracks of his thoughts; the song he’d been working on, the campaign Will wanted to run for Hellfire next, Robin’s entirely too chaotic packing process, and how that girl might have surpassed him in terms of organizational chaos. At least Eddie could find his shit in half the time it had taken her to find the shoes she was taking with her.

The crunch of steps on fallen branches drew him out of his thoughts, making him turn in its direction.

“Jesus, how far is this place,” Eddie heard in a very familiar grumble. Steve was closer than he probably expected to be, and it didn’t take long before Eddie could see him on the treeline. “Uh… Hi.”

“Hi,” Eddie returned, waving at him from where he lay with a grin. “Funny seeing you here.”

Steve rolled his eyes and walked closer. He was wearing some ridiculous yellow shorts and what looked like an old NASCAR shirt, color and design faded with time. It was a little different from what Eddie was used to; more relaxed, like he didn’t have anyone to impress. Which was good, Eddie didn’t need to be impressed by style.

(Eddie knew, objectively, that Steve genuinely enjoyed the polos and all that, but it was still nice to see him in something else. Something softer.)

“What are you doing out here?” Steve asked once he was close to the van, just enough to still be able to see Eddie.

“Looking for Scorpius,” he stated simply, gesturing for Steve to come up. While Steve climbed to the roof of the van, Eddie adjusted the pillow of blankets so they could lie side by side. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was expecting to find you in the trailer,” Steve started, leaning back on top of the blankets on his elbows with a frown on his face. “Wayne directed me over here.” Steve looked around, frowning even harder when he glanced at the ground. “You said you’re looking for scorpions?”

“Scorpius, not scorpions,” Eddie corrected softly, turning back to the stars. “The constellation.”

Steve let out a soft “Oh,” turning to glance at the sky before lying down and making himself comfortable.

Eddie had the vague knowledge that Scorpius was closer to the horizon line, but he’d have to drive up to Hop’s old cabin and the nearby hill to actually look for it, and he just… didn’t want to go that far.

(Didn't really want to be looking over all of Hawkins.)

“What’s the story?” Steve asked after a couple of minutes spent in silence. When Eddie turned to look, Steve was already watching him, his little smile illuminated by the moon. After a beat, he added, “Constellations have those, don’t they?”

Eddie nodded, struggling a little to find his words with the way Steve was looking at him. “It’s uh…” He cleared his throat and turned back to the sky. “It’s the scorpion that killed Orion.”

He could still feel Steve’s eyes on him, waiting for more.

“Orion was a hunter, the best one humanity had to offer,” Eddie started, gesturing to their surroundings as if it could encompass every person in the world. “But he was just a human, you know? And if even the gods of ancient Greece were flawed, imagine how bad a human could be.”

He glanced at Steve, finding all of his attention still focused on him.

“His flaws are not really the point, though.” He shook his head, continuing the story. “At some point in his life, Orion was hunting with Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and wild animals, and… Well,” he grimaced, “He claimed to be able to hunt every animal on Earth.”

“To the goddess of the hunt?” Steve questioned with that particular tone he had when he thought something was stupid. “Rather arrogant of him.”

“Yeah, but Artemis was fond of him.” Steve raised an eyebrow at that, but it took Eddie a moment to realize how his words could be taken. “Not like that,” he added, chuckling. “Artemis was a virgin goddess, none of that.”

Steve hummed, his expression betraying his surprise. “Good for her.”

Eddie blinked at Steve, at this tone of awe that he had.

“Where does the scorpion come in?” Steve asked, a little furrow appearing between his brow that Eddie wanted smooth out, though he had a story to finish.

“Right,” Eddie sighed out, turning once again to the stars. “Gaia, the personification of the Earth itself, didn’t like Orion’s claim.” He paused, then added, “She’s the mother of all life, so.” He gestured nonsensically upwards, finishing his story with as much a deadpan tone as he could muster. “She sent a giant scorpion to kill him.”

“A giant—” Steve burst out laughing, shaking his head in some kind of attempt to regain his composure. “Sorry, I’m sorry, just—”

“It’s kind of a silly conclusion?” Eddie asked with a smile on his face as well as in his voice. Steve nodded, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “Greek mythology is kind of… Dramatic, like that,” he explained with a shrug. “Orion’s hubris got him killed by a giant scorpion—” Steve snorted, but reined himself in quickly— “And they were both raised to the sky as constellations as a warning against humanity’s arrogance.”

Steve hummed, gaze unfocused when Eddie looked at him. “Where are they, then?”

“Uh…” Eddie blinked and turned to the sky to blink some more. “Orion is not visible this time of the year, and Scorpius is closer to the horizon,” he said, raising his arm to point in the general direction he remembered the constellation being.

Steve hummed, but didn’t say anything, letting the silence and the warm evening air envelop them. Eddie expected it to grow awkward, for Steve to say something, for himself to end up fidgeting. Instead, it was easy to just exist together like this, lying side by side and watching the night sky.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, some indeterminate time later. Eddie could feel Steve move about, slowly as to not risk falling off the side, and settle on his side, holding himself up on his elbow. “El was all…” He gestured toward his face. “All frowny, and she only does that when she’s worried. Dustin also said you seemed down.”

Eddie sighed, wishing those kids paid just a little less attention. “I’m good,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Just thinking, you know?”

“About?”

“What happens now, I guess?” He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question. “We got a couple more practice sessions before Jeff and Arnie are going back to college.”

“Gareth’s not going anywhere out of state, though, right?” Steve asked with a thoughtful little frown that Eddie couldn’t resist smoothing out with a finger this time. It earned him a soft laugh and a smack to his hand. “You guys can keep Corroded Coffin going?”

Eddie shrugged as much as he could while lying down. He tried that once, making it on his own, but it didn’t seem as worth it now.

“Think I’d rather not split the band,” he said, grimacing and knowing that Steve would pick up the story he wasn’t telling.

“So,” Steve drawled, eyes narrowed at Eddie like he’d be able to figure out whatever was going on in his head. “The plan is just to wait?”

Honestly, Eddie hated that idea, but what else could Corroded Coffin do? “Sure.” Steve eyes narrowed further, going unfocused again. “What?”

“The kids will be starting their junior year,” he stated.

Eddie hummed to let Steve know he was listening, but he had no idea where the guy was going with this.

“You should come to Indianapolis with me,” he announced.

Eddie blinked at Steve, processing his words for a moment. The offer seemed to come out of nowhere. He expected Steve to leave Hawkins at some point, he’d been preparing for that news, and now it came with an offer to tag along?

“I don’t really have any plans yet,” Steve continued, probably taking Eddie’s silence as hesitation. “We’d have to look into places, and Indianapolis is just an hour away, but it should be enough for a fresh start, right?”

Eddie nodded, a little numbly. “You, uh…” He shook his head to dislodge his surprise. “I think Gareth’s going to community college in the city, actually.”

“Is he, now?” Steve raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed and not surprised.

“Right, you two talk a lot now.” It was still rather amusing that the two of them hung out so much, even without Eddie. “Will?”

“Of course it’s about Will,” Steve scoffed, waving a hand in a flourish. “It’s why he picked Indianapolis. But don’t change the subject,” he added with a smack to Eddie’s arm.

“Alright, alright!” Eddie laughed, rubbing his arm. He’d have rolled away from Steve if it didn’t mean rolling off the roof of the van. “I guess Indianapolis is pretty good…”

Steve beamed at him, a smile he’d been seeing more often as the time passed. Usually, Steve was being a little shit when he smiled like that, but sometimes, he just seemed… happy.

“You could, I don’t know, teach kids how to play the guitar.”

That made Eddie laugh, surprised at the suggestion. Not that he necessarily disliked it.

“Who’d even let me?” He asked. “Maybe I’ll find work at a record store, that seems more likely.”

“If you want to, I’m sure you could find something.” Steve shrugged, that grin not fading from his expression. “Who says you can’t do both, anyway?”

And… Well, Steve had a point. Maybe he could find a store that offered lessons?

“Why are you asking me to go to Indianapolis with you?” The question was asked before Eddie even processed that it was something he wanted to know. He grimaced as soon as it was out. “Not that I don’t want to, god knows I wanted to be out of this town three years ago now, but just— I thought you might tag along with Robin?”

Steve’s expression softened, a serene smile replacing the wide grin. “I thought about it. Robin’s going to Indianapolis University anyway, though, and…” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I think I’d like you there too.”

“You think?” Eddie questioned with a raised brow. It was easier to tease and joke than really look into that sparkle of mirth in Steve’s eyes and hope it meant what he wanted it to mean.

Steve shook his head, sending his hair all over the place. “I know. Got used to your noise, Munson.”

“Well, I’m making your life interesting, so you’re welcome.”

They were both smiling when Eddie finally let himself look Steve in the eye, finally relaxed enough even though he hadn’t escaped thinking about Steve, or his actual presence. It was fine. There some tentative plans to get out of Hawkins, together, and maybe Corroded Coffin would forever be a high school band that didn’t really go anywhere — Eddie was only starting to be okay with that idea, though — but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something else with music.

Steve laid back down on the van after a moment of silence, turning his gaze to the sky. Like this, they were touching pretty much from shoulder to knee, and Eddie was trying not to move too much, conscious of the warmth radiating from Steve.

Steve, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have the same hang-ups, nudging Eddie’s hand until he could take it in his own.

“This okay?” He asked softly, not turning his head and not seeing Eddie already looking at him. Eddie squeezed his hand and intertwined their fingers as response. “I wasn’t planning on talking to you about Indianapolis tonight, you know?” His admission was soft, barely above the ambiance of the woods at night. “I was just gonna keep you company.”

“I’m glad you did.” Eddie let himself take in Steve’s face and what freckles he could see in the dark before turning away. “Easier to think I can actually get out of here when I have a tentative plan.”

“You can, Eddie,” Steve said, firmly squeezing his hand. “I meant it, I’d really like if you came to Indianapolis with me.”

He could feel Steve’s eyes boring a hole into the side of his head, and he refused to loosen the hold on his hand. Eddie sighed, turning to face Steve’s small, determined frown.

“Sometimes,” he started, hesitating before pulling their joined hands closer. “I kinda wish you were still some degree of asshole.” Steve frowned, ready to interject, but Eddie continued before he could. “‘Cause it would make getting over this ridiculous crush so much easier.”

Steve pulled their hands closer to himself this time, and Eddie could see him pursing his lips. He’d been paying too much attention, enough to know this was Steve trying to rein in one of those rare, goofy grins that had been one of the things that made Eddie fall in the first place.

“What if,” Steve started, slowly letting the grin take hold, as he started absently playing with the one ring Eddie forgot to take off before climbing up the van. “I don’t want you getting over this ridiculous crush?”

Eddie blinked at him — he felt like he’d done that a lot tonight, almost constantly surprised by Steve despite how close they’d gotten. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t seen this coming, too close to see what, eventually, might become obvious in hindsight.

“You mean that?”

Steve’s grin came out, full force, in the face of Eddie’s soft tone. He slowly brought Eddie’s hand closer and pressed an oh so soft kiss to his knuckles.

“I mean it.”

Eddie didn’t really know what to say to all that, the smooth jerk knew it and could probably see the blush undoubtedly rising on his cheeks. But there was one thing that he needed to double check.

“You know I’m—”

“Asexual?” He filled in after Eddie cut himself short. “Yeah, I do.” Steve was back to messing with the ring on his hand, looking at it with an expression Eddie still hadn’t figured out. “And I think…” He paused, frowning a little. Eddie kind of wanted to bite him. “It might apply to me too?”

Eddie rolled closer to Steve and pressed a kiss to cheek, feeling the heat rising the longer he stayed there.

“Thanks for telling me,” he mumbled against Steve’s cheek. He pressed another quick kiss before settling back down. “Feels good to know, doesn’t it?”

Steve’s laughter was light, giddy. He rolled onto Eddie this time, hugging him as close as possible.

“It really does.”

Eddie knew they would talk come morning, and they would define just what they wanted and were to each other. But for now, cuddling and laughing under the night sky with ridiculous Greek stories was all Eddie wanted to be doing.

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Steddie #Asexual Eddie Munson #Asexual Steve Harrington #eddiemonth #day 6 #WeresWriting #This got so sappy #and not at all what I was originally going for #I wanted a RWRB reference. Ended up sort of there anyway #(Orion is really only visible during winter I didn't know that)

46 notes · View notes

creepsh · 2 years

Text

eram quod es, eris quod sum.

paring. siren!hawks x fem!reader

c/w. dark content, noncon, brainwashing, drugging, oral sex (f!receiving), loss of virginity, (1) mention of breeding, hawks is a conniving bastard, reader is a cranky know-it-all, some mentions of blood, a crumb of lore was stolen from supernatural

a/n. half of my reason for writing this was for @bibbidi-bobbidi-birb. you are so ridiculously talented at writing and characterizing this man; i drew a lot of inspiration from your seven deadly sins series, although i don't write as eloquently as you do so i pray it doesn't melt your eyeballs lmfao. the other half of this is dedicated to @hhawks owtw collab & to all of the amazing writers on this platform. hope y'all enjoy ♥

w/c. 21k

playlist. 1, 2, 3, 4

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”

– H.P. Lovecraft

ㅤ

Throughout your childhood, your grandmother would often tell you to be extremely cautious of the choices you make. Because for every action, there is always a consequence to follow. It is the very law of existence, she would whisper to you with fierce, unblinking austerity. It is the order of the universe – the grand design of “fate” itself.

Fate… such an arbitrary word, you used to think.

Despite loving her dearly, you also used to think your grandmother was just a cynical old woman, far too wary of forces that were beyond the grasp of mortals, and far too fearful of a world without her protection in it. Despite how… stifling she could be, you did not relish in her passing; she had raised you, after all. You hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to know your parents, whom had "died at sea" before even your first birthday had come to pass. That was all she would ever divulge on the matter, so it wasn’t as if you could truly lament for their absence, having never known them at all. Not even their names.

Perhaps her general oddness and cynicism was for the best, though, since it shaped you into a person that could endure the loneliness that came with her eventual departure from your life. It saddened you – like any living, feeling human should have felt – but you couldn’t help but admit how… freeing it was. Endless opportunity was suddenly at your fingertips, freedom to do as you please an avenue that you could finally walk. Or perhaps even sail.

The ocean was an entirely uncharted corner of life for you, a forbidden dream tucked away on a high shelf that could have been only reached within your mind’s eye, only manifested from the pages of books that you might’ve read a hundred times over.

Opportunity; it tread a very fine line between promising and dangerous. That you were made well aware of – a courtesy of your Grandmother's upbringing, of course. But in theory of all the random knowledge you had amassed, ranging from pointless to useful, you wagered that you had a chance at realizing your goals. You were penniless, but with an opportunity to step outside of your thoughts, to actually live for real… who is to say that you couldn’t achieve whatever you set your aspiring mind to?

You weren’t callow enough to assume it would be a breeze to do, but you had thought that as long as you had your wits, there would never be a consequence of which to answer. If you played your cards right, a thing called fate wouldn’t catch wind of you.

…or so you had believed, as all ignorant adolescents do.

One lesson your evidently all-knowing grandmother had forgotten to grant you with was just how fast such consequences were to catching up with you, and especially how easily they could be overlooked. You've finally begun to realize that mere book smarts alone wouldn’t pull you out of the rabbit hole, nor would your childish delusions of grandeur carry you as half as far as you thought they would.

Consequences, you ruminate bitterly, whilst peering upon an infinite expanse of shimmering, undulating sea. They certainly do have a way of catching up to you, one way or the other. Of course, only now were you fully taking her warnings, which were beginning to appear as grim omens, to heart – when it was too late to do anything about it.

The sound of a seagull’s raspy, screeching cackle disrupts the lulling murmur of fluttering sails and waves crashing against the ship’s hull, and for a moment, you entertain the thought of it being her spirit hanging over you, vindictively sneering:

I told you so.

A sharp whistle, followed by the gruff call of a name you aren’t familiar with interrupts your somber reverie. Right, the consequences that she often spoke of – you were soon to meet them, very soon.

The acrid smell of sweat and tobacco hits you before the sound of heavy footfalls resounding against wood does; a hand so calloused and tanned it could be better resembled to an aged, leather glove than an actual living human limb falls upon your shoulder, steering you toward the port side of this boat – your self-inflicted prison – to the one who summoned for you. The one who will decide your fate, in what is sure to come in but a few more moments.

“There she is – our lovely little stowaway.” You find yourself to be relieved that those words appeared to be laced with derision, rather than desire. At the very least, you’d prefer to not be robbed of your chastity before you die... but beggars on the precipice of death can’t quite be choosers, now can they? “I believe destiny brought you to my ship for a reason, girl. Are you ready to face yours?”

Whatever that entails, you were clearly about to find out.

For a moment, you were only able to stare up at the veritable mountain of a man before you, at the glacial hue of eyes that seemed to be utterly absent of all warmth or mercy, before derisively muttering, “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.” It’s not as if you had much a choice otherwise, at this point.

If he found your sudden compliance to be odd he must have deemed it unnecessary to comment on, because he turned his back to you without further preamble, directing his frigid gaze to the distant landmass that stood as a green blemish on what was an otherwise pristine portrait of blue. To you, it looked like any other ordinary island. A tropical paradise, if anything.

But you strongly suspect he didn’t come all the way here, in the middle of nowhere, for a relaxing getaway.

“Somewhere on that island lies the greatest treasure the likes of any pirate or king has known for over several hundred years. Many have died in pursuit of it, and far less have lived to tell of what they saw beyond its shores – if they made it that far.”

Nervous shifting comes from the man behind you, whom is still holding your shoulder captive, as if you had literally anywhere else to run except overboard. You try your best not to grumble irritably at his clenched grip, listening as intently as one who was on the verge of receiving a broken collarbone could.

“It is said to be a place of unimaginable horrors – for men, that is.” Ah, you see what point he was trying to make, considering the obvious. Sure enough, the captain turns his head ever so slightly to side-eye your diminutive form, reluctantly awaiting his verdict. “Few boats could ever sail close enough without being run aground because of sirens – wicked she-devils, who exist solely to prey upon the hearts of men. No man can resist their influence, and that is why the prize within that cursed place has remained unclaimed to this day. This is where you, my dear,” he sneers over the term of endearment, “come into play.”

His gaze flicks somewhere behind you, an unspoken order, and it’s only about a second or two of shuffling before it is answered – a tattered, rolled up scrap of parchment is handed off to him from over your shoulder that isn’t currently being crushed into mincemeat. Against your better judgment, or perhaps due to a lack thereof, you open your mouth to speak.

“So… you’re sending me to discover this treasure on the possibility that they wouldn’t target a woman? Even if that were so, what about… I don’t know – male sirens?”

The captain scoffs at the suggestion as he impatiently unfurls the paper, as if the idea were more outlandish than what he had already told you just a second prior. “There is no such thing – males have never been reported to be seen, but if you are snatched up by one…” He briefly looks skyward to snort humorlessly, as if such a thought were a half-assed joke from the gods, “then I suppose that’ll answer that question, aye?”

You aren’t sure what else to say in your defense, but he doesn’t seem to care for any more of your inquires anyhow as he is suddenly gesturing for you to look at where he’s pointing on a faded, crudely drawn rendition of the island before you – something he must have kept in his possession for many, many years.

“See this spot, where a shipwreck lies between these large rock formations?”

Nodding slowly, your eyes follow the path his finger drags slightly upward, where the sea meets a flat, tall cliff face. He jabs the haphazardly shaded area beneath it, which you notice to be covering the subtle outline of a circle. Your nodding stops. “Below here will be a cave entrance that has become hidden under the tides this time of the year, just beneath sea level. That is where many believed the treasure to be, judging by the amount of sunken ships you can find there.”

Gulping, you offer the large man an apprehensive glance. “The cave is beneath… sea level? I’m, uh, not really the best swimmer.” An exaggeration, which you cannot really be blamed for given your situation, but you certainly weren’t confident in the length that you could hold your breath. The thought of you writhing amongst a cold, heavy darkness, your final emotions being one of utter terror as your lungs inevitably fill with saltwater invokes a shudder within you. Despite your fascination with the sea, drowning had been a recurring fear of yours for as far back as you could remember, as if the roots of this day burrowed themselves to the foundation of your existence, amongst other obvious reasons.

You couldn’t help but find it a bit funny, at least, how life seemed to have a rather cliché way of coming full circle. Fate was not quite as arbitrary as it seemed…

“Well—” You manage to withhold yourself from jolting in surprise when he abruptly yanks the map from your intense scrutiny, rolling it back up swiftly and neatly before presenting it to you once more, slightly from beyond your reach. “It’s either this, or we sell your pretty ass off at the nearest port. I reckon we’d get decent coin off you. So—” He lowers his hand, leering at you with an obscure, prying intensity. “What’ll it be, girl? Become someone’s property ‘til the end of your days, or help me make history?”

You peer at the map – the physical embodiment of the ultimatum being offered to you – with thinly veiled skepticism. “Who’s to say you won’t just sell me after finding your treasure anyway?”

The captain huffs, “Don’t worry, your worth is nothing compared to what’s on that island, and besides—” His mouth splits into a grin that could be equally interpreted as a grimace, warping his face in a way that felt entirely unnatural to how it was designed; he looks like he’s never smiled a day in his life before now. “I am a man of my word. If you succeed, I’d let you walk free with about as much as you can fill your pockets with. Call it a gesture of my goodwill, and a little extra incentive for your success.”

Admittedly, the prospect of some creepy lech becoming your “owner” wasn’t helping you see many drawbacks to his deal. Either you succeed by some miraculous twist of fate, walking away not only with your freedom, but also compensation… or you fail, possibly suffering what would more than likely be a horrible and agonizing death. But, at the very least, you would die free. It was simple as that, and in all honesty—

You really appreciated simplicity, in the grand scheme of things.

You don’t really see a point in drawing the moment out any further than it already has, plucking the paper from his fingers with a resigned finality. A seagull’s raucous squawking carries over your heads yet again – you deliberately ignore the uneasy stirring in your gut, as the memory of a certain somebody’s voice swims at the forefront of your mind. The frantic beating of wings fleeing toward the direction of land comes just before the distant, subdued murmur of thunder traveling through the atmosphere, as if following on some sort of theatrical cue.

The captain seems to have anticipated this turn of the weather as much as he did your decision, muttering something indistinct beneath his breath before piercing the anticipatory standstill that enveloped his crew with a short, practiced whistle. They sprang into action without a moment of delay.

An aggravated hiss escapes your lips as the man that has been attached to your shoulder this entire time forcibly ushers you towards the rolled up ladder that is used to board the ship, finally removing his damned meat hooks from your poor, aching collarbone. Yeah, that was definitely going to become a hideously gigantic bruise later. Lovely.

Though you probably weren’t even going to live long enough for it to be seen by anyone anyway, so you suppose it didn’t really matter all that much… you still felt like you were entitled to complaining, though.

You observed the crew with a detached form of curiosity, as they lowered a small rowboat into the water with a swift and synergetic efficiency. For some reason, it’s the thought of having to haul yourself all the way to that island that begins to chip at your apathetic façade, a troubled frown cracking through your stony features – if the sirens truly won’t kill you first, then the fatigue from rowing very well might. Gods, you didn’t even want to consider the return trip, on the off chance of your success.

A muted splash meets your ears precisely as the rope ladder is tossed over the boat’s railing, the sound of it knocking against the hull following in a rickety staccato as it unfurled. A heavy quiet settles over the ship once again, in anticipation for your next action.

Time for the moment of truth, it seems.

You turn your back to the uncomfortable weight of their expectant stares, shuffling forward to slowly clamber over the railing. It’s a miracle that you manage to not fling yourself backward, as you awkwardly fumble onto the other side. You take a moment to gather your bearings, hugging your body to the sturdiness of the carved wood as seawater sloshed beneath you; but unfortunately for you, time was of the essence, and the captain wasn’t too keen on his being wasted.

“…We don’t have all day, girl,” he snaps impatiently, that distinct, baritone voice easily cutting through the ambient noises of the sea. “That storm on the horizon will pass over this area by nightfall, and I don’t want to be here when it does. So I’d suggest you hop to it, if you don’t want to be left behind.”

By this point, you aren’t too shocked, as the list of potential causes for your failure appeared to be piling up at a laughably exponential rate. Nevertheless, you began your careful descent down the swaying ladder, committing each of their faces to your memory before you dipped below the railing, because for all you know—

ㅤ

…they just may be the last humans you will ever see.

ㅤ

Nearly an hour of rowing later… and three hours of daylight remaining.

ㅤ

“Stupid—”

Inhale, pull.

“—fucking pirates—”

Exhale, and push.

“—and their stupid—”

Inhale, pull.

“—fucking—”

Exhale…

“—greed.”

…and push.

You drop your oars with an exhausted groan, allowing yourself a brief respite from your rage-fueled rowing to just drift with the flow of the ocean’s current, while indulging in its rejuvenating spray. The muscles in your entire upper half felt as if they were on the brink of tearing open, and your ragged breathing indicated your lungs weren’t exactly faring any better. At least you’re finally getting the exercise, your grandmother would probably be griping right about now. Of course, even in death, that woman remained an unshakable hindrance to your peace of mind.

“Consequences this, consequences that – should’ve followed your own advice, old hag. Might’ve lived a little longer if you laid off that damn pipe,” you mutter, slouching forward as you dig for the map you kept tucked in your bodice. Unrolling it over your thigh, you examined the paper carefully.

It only took a quick glance upward to affirm that you were undoubtedly heading in the right direction, as you were steadily nearing the same rock formations the captain had indicated; the weathered skeleton of a marooned ship was cradled between their jagged edges – as if they were a massive creature’s maw bursting from the sea. It felt like fitting symbolism for the island in its entirety, buds of unease blooming in your chest at the unnerving sight. You could only imagine how many more ships were beneath you, an unseen graveyard littering the ocean floor.

You wondered if it would become your resting place, too.

Shaking such distractions from your mind, you stuff the map back into your bodice and resume rowing, grunting with every other forward and backward motion – your destination wasn’t much further now. It’s the most effort that you’ve had to exert by far, wrestling against the choppy tide that seemed to form in the outer perimeter of the island. You would’ve been worried about the very legitimate chance of blacking out from exhaustion, were you not so preoccupied with steering yourself towards a rocky outcropping that sat a safe distance from the sheer cliff wall, away from the large waves that crashed against it with a force that would pulverize your tiny vessel – and you with it.

Far be it from you to tell a lousy pirate how to do his lousy job, but it might’ve been a helpful detail to have been made aware of. Perhaps he hadn’t even expected you to make it beyond this point, the bastard. You will live to see the end of this day, if only to make him eat his words. Fates be damned, you will live.

It was coming up on you fast, now. The oars didn’t seem to serve much of purpose anymore – seeing as the surging riptide was now hurtling you directly toward the rock – so you threw them to your feet, anchoring yourself with a white knuckled grip on the lip of the boat. All you could do was hold on, and brace for impact.

The nose of the boat slammed into the rock with a force that rattled your brain against your skull, nearly knocking your handhold loose and flinging you from your seat. Despite your disorientation, you quickly scramble out before the raging tidewater can suck you back into the fray; you drag it onto the highest point of the rock with you, just for good measure – it wouldn’t be possible to get back without it, after all.

Thankfully, this spot seems elevated enough that it can probably be safely left unattended, but still – you’re skeptical of taking any chances with the elements. With nothing to anchor or tie it down, you can only hope it will suffice in keeping it from being swept away, leaving you a prisoner of this place.

You turn to regard the water’s churning surface with trepidation – today’s next test of your limits, and the one that you had been dreading the most. But you couldn’t afford to waste daylight worrying about whether or not your life truly was moments from meeting its end, or about how slow and horrific the feeling of drowning would likely be, so you decide to stop thinking and just act.

You breathe in and out in to prepare your lungs for what is to come, sparing the heavens one last glance – asking not for protection, but willing yourself to be witnessed by every cruel, divine force that has lead you to this moment – before crossing your arms over your chest and leaping into the water feet first.

Out of the frying pan, and into the fire, as they say.

Naturally, the sensation that hits you first is the sheer cold, which swallows you up entirely as you sink and sink. Next is the shock upon your nervous system, briefly causing your limbs to seize up, but you manage to shake free from it almost as quickly as it grabbed ahold of you, opening your eyes and scanning for the cave’s entrance – it felt like they were melting from the saltwater, but you endured.

You’re fortunate to spot it almost instantly, considering it must have been large enough to accommodate the width of three ships altogether; it was quite hard to miss. Although, if the threat of your lungs caving in on themselves weren’t an impending matter, you would have given yourself a moment to marvel at the breathtaking sight that was laid out before you, as you propel yourself toward the gaping opening.

Fringing reefs of pastel coral were interspersed with clusters of vibrantly pigmented anemones, and patches of seaweed flowing like verdant ribbons amongst various forms of small aquatic life litter just about every inch of visible space below you, an animated canvas of colors that put even the finest gardens or museums in your home capital to shame. Never once in your life have you considered the possibility of baring witness to such a natural beauty firsthand, something the average citizen could only find in paintings or storybooks. Not that you were glad your life led to this outcome, but maybe in better circumstances – your endlessly curious mind would have been bursting with wonder.

It seemed that the entrance you were swimming through was merely an antechamber to an even bigger cave, its shaded overhang making the clear shafts of light that were bleeding through the area ahead of you easy to navigate towards. The dwindling remains of your breath were escaping your nostrils in fat plumes as soon as you passed the second threshold, guiding you upwards to a glassy, semi-distorted surface – but most importantly, to air.

You might have considered it odd, for beams of direct sunlight to be appearing inside of this cave, which should have been a secluded pocket in the earth, and about a hundred feet or so beneath solid bedrock and the open sky. However, you were somewhat preoccupied with not drowning, steeling your lungs with the last ounce of adrenaline your body could muster as you clawed your way to the surface.

Your head whipped back in a violent arc the instant it broke through, a hungry gasp for oxygen falling from your gaping lips and traveling around you with a reverberating, prolonged echo – suggesting this chamber was indeed an immense one. You aren’t expecting to have to squint when you open your eyes, but lo and behold, there is a legitimate brightness penetrating your pupils when you do.

You weakly raised a hand to block the glare from your sensitive gaze, peering through the gaps in your fingers at the light’s source, from what you blearily discerned to be an opening in the cave’s high, dome-like ceiling. Overgrown flora hung almost artfully over its edge, dripping from dense condensation that had patches of lichen encompassing the wide perimeter of it in a large web. It was only then – as you floated on your back and waited for your racing heartbeat to stabilize, absently pondering just how just how nice it’d be to have wings of your own, to abscond through that hole and from your insignificant, humanly woes – that something in the fuzzy outskirts of your vision finally made itself known.

Resting within the heart of this hidden grotto was a ship, but not just any typical ship, being far too grand to be rightfully compared with anything you have previously laid eyes on before – it was a galleon. You’ve never been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of one, considering they were primarily used by the military or for trade overseas, but you would often find yourself marveling at diagrams of them whenever you would visit the local library, finding them to be more fascinating than any of the regular vessels that would frequently dock at the port of your capital.

If this place weren’t already a testament to its own enormity, you would be puzzled by what you were seeing. The ship held an utterly imposing silhouette, with twice the amount of masts of a standard ship and an overabundance of gunports for cannon fire on each deck, which also was twice the amount of average. Yet despite its clear design for naval warfare, it also possessed a rather regal aesthetic, with a gold trim lining its edges in a subtle embellishment that coalesced into heavier accents at the stern. Even the sails were still somewhat rich with color, displaying crosses and maroon crests over an alabaster canvas. Other than the tip of its bow being mysteriously severed, the boat was in an immaculate state of preservation.

Well then… this alone was more than enough to solidify the captain’s claims, you suppose. Just the ship in of itself could be qualified as treasure, and it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume it had more stored inside – a lot more, you’d wager. Regardless of the staggering amount of wealth that just a fraction of this discovery could garner, you found yourself slightly more excited to see the history that it held; it had to have been from the early 16th century or so, judging by the information you gathered during your studies. Amazing yet peculiar, seeing as it appeared virtually untouched by the lengthy passage of over a hundred years.

Stranger even, that there weren’t many signs of rot on the wood. It looked as if it had been well maintained, apart from the encrusted layer of fossilized barnacles on its hull.

The extent of the ship’s size didn’t truly sink in until you directly approached its side, making you feel utterly miniscule as you hunted for a ladder or hanging anchor of some kind. You swam to the other side when your search came up short, dearly hoping that there’d be something, anything that could be considered remotely climbable. This would be the proof you needed that the universe well and truly had it out for you when the finish line was literally within reach, just a brief climb away. One could argue that fate wouldn’t possibly be so cruel, but you knew better – your grandmother’s proclivity to superstition made sure of that.

Your groan of frustration resonated deeply within the hollow chamber, skipping across the water’s placid surface and back into your own ears when the other side proved just as fruitful as the first. You shouldn’t have been surprised considering your luck, but it just seemed ridiculous for something as trivial as this to be what bests you after coming so far, after successfully “negotiating” with pirates, after wrestling with the fury of Poseidon in a measly little rowboat, and after avoiding drowning through the skin of your teeth.

No – you refused to accept it, refused to return to the captain empty-handed and with your tail between your legs. Not after vowing to yourself that you’d prove him wrong. So you continued on your path, circling back around to the boat’s starboard side.

Even with your bullheaded adamancy, you weren’t sure what you were anticipating, when you knew better than to actually expect anything new to be suddenly waiting for you – as if you somehow overlooked the one thing your eyes had been specifically scouring for – but you certainly hadn’t considered for just that to happen. Dangling over the gunwale almost innocently, like it had sheepishly slithered itself there only after your discontent had been vocally expressed, was a long length of thickly corded rope. Despite the cool rush of relief that washed over you, the hairs on your nape arose in a skeptical wariness. That couldn’t have been there before – you were certain you had scanned this side top to bottom… hadn’t you?

An odd, nagging feeling itched relentlessly at your insides as you grasped the rope with both hands, curling your fingertips into its coarse, malleable texture. Whatever the case for its sudden manifestation, you weren’t going to take it for granted – you couldn’t afford to.

Fortifying yourself with the promise of your struggles being generously rewarded soon, you planted the soles of your feet onto the damp wood, and you began to climb. You could practically hear the muscles in your arms begging for mercy with each shaky advancement upward, the weariness of one perilous event after the other finally beginning to settle in your bones. But you were so close, and you’d be damned if fatigue attempted to get in the way of that now.

You knew it may become an issue later, but you were somewhat gratified for being soaked to your core, if only to sooth the burning beneath your flesh, to give you the extra modicum of strength that you needed to push yourself over the railing. You tumbled onto the deck like a sack of potatoes, a faint wheeze expelled from your lungs as you rolled onto your side.

If not for the roughness of the wood rubbing against your cheek, rooting you to reality, it almost would not have been believable that you finally had made it. You were so grateful to be on a stable surface again that you could’ve kissed the deck without a hint of shame, but all you were capable of in that moment was lying still, cradling your sore arms to your chest as you caught your breath.

Dense with a mixture of earthy aromas, oxygen-rich air revitalized you with every inhale – the featherlight weight of it over your skin felt almost healing to the touch. Filtering the ambient sounds of nature that trickled through the opening above you was a lulling hush, a soothing blanket of stillness that laid over the cave’s atmosphere. For all the fear the captain had woven into your expectations of this place, you’d think you stumbled upon Shangri-La… but a nagging voice in the back of your mind told you to know better, to remember every evidence of danger your own eyes had seen on the way here.

Yet regardless of how safe you currently are, if it were up to you, you would curl up exactly where you were and stay there until your body truly deemed it necessary to move. But you weren’t allowed such a luxury with the limited daylight that you had remaining, so you allowed yourself a minute more of peace before mustering the will to push yourself upright.

You had figured that you were prepared to encounter the sight that greeted you, considering you were made abundantly aware of the innumerable amount of lives that were sacrificed over this very ship, but the first time anyone sees a real corpse is bound to be more harrowing than they could ever expect.

…perhaps you spoke too soon regarding safety.

Randomly scattered across the ship’s deck was about a half a dozen bodies, all in what seemed to be the final stage of decay. For some reason, you never took into consideration that they would still be wearing the clothing that they had drawn their last breaths in, presuming from all the depictions of naked skeletons you have seen that it all somehow just… withered away along with their flesh. Obviously, you were enlightened of the absurdity of that assumption now.

The skeleton closest to you was equipped in a manner which one wouldn’t typically see where you were from, comprised of loosely sewn animal skins and metal adornments deeply inscribed with runic symbols, implying they from somewhere Nordic, and presumably male. He was laying on his back with his right hand resting over his chest; you thought that he looked a bit serene, in a macabre sort of way.

The next body was draped halfway over the portside railing, donning a large frock coat and leather trousers, suggesting they were male as well. The evidence of his death was plain to see with a vertical hole on the left side of his upper back – a fatal blow that likely had been aimed for his heart. It looked as if he were attempting to climb overboard, you surmised curiously. Clearly, he had been denied of that chance.

Nearly every skeleton that you examined appeared to share two things in common: they were male – at least judging by their stature and attire – and they had the same, singular hole either over their chests or their backs, with roughly the same positioning. Yet there was no evidence of any weapons remaining.

There seemed to be one exception, however, and it was located the furthest from the others, lying adjacent to the steps that lead to the back of the ship, toward the captain’s quarters that sat above the stern.

The first thing you noticed was what they were wearing closely resembled your own clothing, with a corseted bodice that sat over a short-sleeved, cream-colored chemise – a distinctly feminine choice of attire – and a loose fitting pair of breeches that were tied at the knee. Unlike the others, there was not a single sign to indicate how they, or she, had died – only that her body was arranged in a relaxed manner that implied she had passed calmly.

The second thing to capture your attention was something peeking through the cradle of one of her boney palms, a tiny beacon of color amidst a slathering of dull, melancholy hues. You were loath to lay your hands upon the dead, considering it more rude than distasteful, but alas – your intrigue was a stubborn thing that could hardly ever be thwarted.

“Sorry to disturb you,” you muttered, gingerly kneeling beside her. It was a strange and humbling feeling, holding the hand of a person who has long since departed from this world, and one you couldn’t fathom to describe as you pried her stiff grasp open. You handled her as if she were porcelain, fearing that she would crumble to pieces lest you applied even the tiniest bit of force. With meticulous care, you reached through her fingers, and slowly pulled the object free.

Your initial expectation was some form of garnet or ruby enameled jewelry due to the alluringly stark shade of red being what caught your eye, but it was revealed to only be a feather. Only was not implying you were at all disillusioned, when its vividness seemed to rival that of blood, a color you had always secretly favored. You struggled to think of a bird that would fit such a purely sanguine coloration – the closest coming to mind being either a cardinal or some variation of parrot – but neither were a species that fit a plume of this scale, at least not to your knowledge. You considered yourself pretty well read, but not to that capacity.

It felt like there was something very important that you were forgetting to consider, a key factor to your entire reason for being here, but it was overshadowed by the sensory overload you’d been riding on ever since you breached this cave.

That lingering uncertainty remained in the background of your psyche, eclipsed by your incessant curiosity as you notice something lightly scratched into the wood where her hand had been lying.

“Eram quod es, eris quod sum,” you whispered aloud, before pursing your lips in concentrated thought. You were certain that it was Latin, recognizing a few words from your studies, but you weren’t anywhere near fluent. You figured that you might be able to get an idea of the phrase if you attempted to sound it out from what you knew.

“We are— no, that’s not right…” You’ve seen some of these words before, if only you could just remember. “I… I was what—”

“I was what you are; you will be what I am.”

The feather fell from your grasp, seesawing through the air in a peaceful descent that directly contrasted the meteoric plummeting in your gut. Oh, you had thought dazedly, as your gaze crawled a path up the ship’s main mast, toward the source of the smooth voice that interrupted you.

…that was what you were forgetting.

Perched on the wooden beam that the uppermost sail was tethered to, was what you dumbly presumed to be a siren. They seemed to have materialized out of thin air, granting no audible warning of their arrival. Most notably of all – other than that you now knew what manner of wings that feather belonged to, hanging in excess off their back like a crimson cape – was that the one who had found you was not a female.

So much for there being no such thing… stupid, useless fucking pirates. It was settled, then – the universe operated solely to spite you.

“A tad morbid for my tastes, but it certainly is… thought provoking, I suppose.”

Despite your better consideration to make for the ships railing like a bat out of hell, you remained rooted in place, squinting through the waning beams of sunlight at the siren’s statuesque silhouette for a glimpse of his face. It almost seemed deliberate, how the glare bled wholly onto his features from your angle.

“Well done, by the way,” he drawled, embodying the epitome of nonchalance with how he lazily leaned against the crow’s nest, arms loosely crossed and wings dangling limply. He certainly didn’t appear at all threatened by your presence here. “You almost figured it out. Fancy yourself an aspiring linguist?”

“I… read a lot,” you responded vaguely, glancing at the railing that sat at least six strides from where you stood. Should you even dare to attempt in making a run for it? Your gaze darted to the corpse that was hanging over the portside railing a few meters away, and immediately dismissed that notion. If even an able-bodied man could not make it, which you assumed now of whom he had been fleeing from, then what chance did you have?

A contemplative hum from overhead reminded you where your attention would likely be wise to stay, considering this siren could evidently move without detection. You surrendered every shred of your attention to him as he stepped off his makeshift perch, watching like petrified prey as he plummeted towards you. Just as you wondered if he intended to crush you underfoot those expansive wings unfurled, flapping once to soften his landing, whipping you with a powerful gust of air.

You briefly wondered if this was what field mice felt like when barn owls swooped down upon them. How ironic, considering you used to watch indifferently as they were carried away, squeaking helplessly while you lounged behind your grandmother’s cottage, idly marveling at the harsh wonders of nature before burying your nose back into whatever book you’d been consumed by that evening.

There was a heavy moment of silence while you studied each other, after he straightened himself as those large primary feathers swept against the floorboards, wings tucking comfortably against his back. You probably did resemble cornered prey, with the way you mirrored his leisurely approach step for step, fixing him with a doe-eyed stare when your back collided with the handrail’s post sitting at the base of the stairs.

Despite your fear, you would be blatantly lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge the magnitude of his beauty. Had you not known better, you’d think you were gazing upon a renaissance sculpture made flesh – his features so carved and without flaw; the only plausible explanation was that they had been crafted that way, by a profoundly loving and meticulous hand. Even the smoothness of his skin resembled that of marble, the sole difference being its dewy, sun-kissed shade.

What would be the most unremarkable of characteristics, details you wouldn’t normally look twice at on an ordinary person seemed to demand your full examination; like the light wisps of hair accenting his sharp chin, or the unruly brows that sat over a strikingly yellow pair of eyes. They certainly contributed to the danger he exuded, especially with the pointed black markings that extended from his tear ducts in an almost catlike fashion.

His hair only magnified his sunbathed allure, shining like a sandy beach during midday and swept from his face in a feathered wave, save for a few stubborn pieces dusting across his forehead. You’d think he recently went for a swim with the way his bare torso gleamed with moisture, but the baggy harem-style pants hanging low on those trim hips were loose with aridity.

It felt like a gentle tugging on your subconscious, a coaxing balm on the buzzing nerves that kept you hyperaware, and that was precisely why you didn’t trust any of it – the glamour that surrounded him.

He met your thorough examination with equal – if not fiercer – intensity, dragging that arcane stare over the entirety of you with a patient, thinly concealed appreciation. Those unnervingly keen eyes spared you another brazen onceover, before finally meeting yours through a slow blink, tilting his head in an avian fashion.

“So, how’d a mousy little scholar wind up here?” His lips stretched into a feline smile, revealing dangerously elongated canines to match. Fantastic – as if the huge wings and clawed fingertips weren’t sufficient warnings for you to behave. Now you’d have to worry about him getting close enough to make a meal out of your jugular. “Get tired of living vicariously through your books, did you?”

“Tell me…” He abruptly leaned forward, which had you almost folding yourself backward over the handrail to spare at least a modicum of personal space, finding the delicate caress of his balmy breath over your mouth far too intimate for your liking. “Did I meet your expectations?”

Well, this certainly wasn’t how you imagined for this scenario to go.

“…I didn’t have many to begin with,” you answered slowly, breaking from the hold of his invasive gaze to gather your courage to speak. “I didn’t even know your kind existed before today – it wasn’t my idea to come here.”

“Ah.” He clicks his tongue through a sardonic huff, solving the mystery of you in all but an instant. You released a breath you hadn’t been aware of withholding when he swayed backward, releasing the invisible chokehold of his close proximity. “Pirates got ahold of you, eh? Pity.” Even with the barefaced sarcasm, there was an undertone of sympathy in his voice; the kind one would have when seeing a pretty butterfly snared in a spider’s web. A sympathy that is only derived from disappointment, at nature’s cruelty toward lovely, weak things.

You warily glance at him again, before sighing shortly, "Yes… but there's no one to blame for that but myself. I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, and now here I am, paying the consequences.”

He tutted softly, like you were a child who did not know any better.

“Silly human, don’t you know what they say about cats and curiosity? Let me guess,” he hummed, throwing those sinewy arms over the handrail opposite of you, reclining his head back as he tapped rhythmically at the wood with his fingers, which you’ve only just noticed were riddled with a variety of sparkling rings. You tried your utmost to not stare at the way the action emphasized his pectorals, but it was as if those damned things had their own gravitational pull. “These consequences involved being sent here to retrieve a certain… something. The same something they came here for. Am I getting warm?”

Your eyes didn’t need to follow the direction he nodded at to know whom he had been indicating, but you humored him anyhow. A numbing sense of resignation suddenly settled within you, at the likelihood of this being a test to whether or not you kept your life. You may not have much of a fighting chance, but at the very least, you’d spare your dignity by retaining what little composure you had left.

“…And if you are? Would you kill me too?”

"Hm… it depends.” He squinted down the length of that aristocratic nose at you, halting the tick, tick, ticking of his talons to stroke his chin in a show of contemplation. "How badly do you want what they died for? Would you really be willing to risk your life for someone else’s greed? For material wealth? Or would it be to save your own skin?"

Your expression clouded over as your gaze sank to the floor, brows knitted and mouth tight-lipped. This was it, then. “All I want is… is to be free. To experience a simple life with simple pleasures, but to have life that is worth living. If I can’t have that,” you paused, glancing at the skeleton of the woman who now seemed like an eerie reflection of you, “then I would rather die for myself, at least. That might not have been enough for them, but it is for me.”

The condescending guise he had been wearing shifted into something unreadable, his raised hand dropping to his side. There was something jarring and distinctly inhuman about how quickly he could switch from charming to calculating, as well as his unwavering scrutiny that felt akin to being dissected. Before you could clear the lump of discomfort caught in your throat, a toothy grin had already wormed its way onto his face once again, as if that initial look of deliberation was only a trick of your mind.

“You’re an interesting one. That makes you lucky, because I like interesting things.”

You blinked owlishly at him, unsure how to respond. That was unexpected. Personally, luck would be the last term you would use to describe your predicament, but you took it that meant he wouldn’t be killing you… for now. Even if there was a decent aspect of truth to it, you were kind of exaggerating that last part. Gods only know how fickle minded sirens may be, and you weren’t willing to test that theory now – or ever.

“Tell you what…” He pushed off the handrail with the arm that was still draped across it, sauntering towards you with playful purpose. “Since I’m feeling rather giving today, you can take whatever you want off this boat – if you grant me a moment of your time. It’s been so very long since I’ve had decent company, you know?”

You were curious as to why he wouldn't just seek solace in his own kind, but you decided to not comment on it. You’d rather not risk him revoking his charity by prodding at what might be an unsavory subject. Perhaps sirens just weren’t the type to mingle amongst themselves, or weren’t typically ones for idle interaction and you had merely encountered the odd one of the bunch.

“I… guess that is fair,” you acquiesce, casting a swift glance at the hole in the cave’s ceiling when the sound of faraway thunder fell through it. The hands of daylight seemed to be creeping upon its final hour as the approaching storm drew ever nearer, which meant you had very little time left before the captain and his crew would hoist their sails from this place. Hopefully he doesn’t drag this “moment” he’s asking of you out, because you need to leave soon, before the tides become too tumultuous – you’ve wasted far too much time already. “Just for a moment, then – it’s the least I can repay for your generosity.”

“My, how polite you are,” he said through a shrewd smirk, offering a beckoning hand to you. “It certainly is a refreshing change of pace from my usual guests.”

“…I can’t say I blame them too much – it is a bit frightening being confronted by what looks like a human fused with a vulture for the first time,” you confess bluntly, sliding your fingers onto his upturned palm hesitantly, taking care to not accidentally nick yourself on those lethal claws. Gods, his skin was somehow even softer than it looked. How he managed such a thing with what had to be a very… hands on lifestyle, you could only guess. A benefit of being anything but an ordinary human, maybe.

“A vulture?” He pouts, dragging a thumb over your knuckles to secure you within his grip, gently guiding you along as he begins ascending the stairs. “That’s a tad harsh – I would be a far prettier bird.”

You withheld the urge to snort, finding it amusing that a mythical creature the captain had all but declared of originating from the bowels of hell was offended by being compared to a species that didn’t fit its standards of beauty.

“A peacock, then?”

His laugh was a warm, dulcet sound, scarlet wings twitching with pleased mirth. It was undeniable – red truly had to be your favorite color, you thought before quickly averting your eyes, when he directed a sly look at you over his shoulder. You prayed that didn’t mean he caught on to your pestering desire to touch them, scratching relentlessly at the forefront of your mind. You were just curious, is all. Really. “That’s adequate, I suppose.”

The stairs didn’t seem to stretch that high up from its base, but a single glance backward confirmed otherwise when you both approached the final step. For the briefest moment, you permitted yourself to bask in the culmination of wonders this day has brought, as you surveyed the extent of this chamber, a scene that a mere iota – less than a handful even – of the human race has managed to witness. With rapt mystification, you pondered just how long it has been since a person has set eyes on this place, and lived to tell the tale.

If everything continued to progress in your favor, you just may become one of those very people.

“My name is Hawks, by the way. Well – that is what others address me as. You, however, may have the privilege of calling me Keigo, since the nature of our rendezvous will be so unfortunately brief.”

You cast an inquisitive look at him, puzzled behind his reasoning for having multiple names. Was it simply a cultural thing amongst his race, to have titles for differing people and reasons? You supposed it wasn’t all that out of the ordinary, considering humans practiced similar customs with nicknames and such.

“Why do they call you Hawks, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Keigo pulled you from your rooted position with minimal effort, hardly needing to expend an ounce of exertion to tug your mass forward and with him towards the large doors barring entry to the captain’s quarters, which shared gold accents similar to the ones adorning the ship’s outer body. He clearly was not partial to wasting time; it aided your wishes to speed things along, though, so you weren’t exactly complaining.

"Your curiosity certainly knows no bounds. Though I suppose I have no room to spout such things, being the meddlesome nuisance that I am.” You can hear the smile in his voice even as he steps in front of you, a cheeky inflection you have easily begun to identify whenever those wicked lips quirk upwards, which you’ve already discerned to be quite a frequent trait.

“But as for that name, it’s something of a… informal title, is all.” He quips rather ambiguously, tossing another pointed glance your way before ripping the doors open with excessive flourish. You realize his dramatics were entirely warranted, once you feast your eyes upon the cabin’s contents.

Its interior could only be regarded as baroquely rustic, a climactic coalescence of all the extravagance you have beheld from this ship, from this day by far. The first thing anyone would likely notice upon entering were the tall lancet-style windows facing the entrance on the furthest wall, which provided a view of a portion of the cave through stained mosaic panes, showering the floor in front of them in kaleidoscopic beams of light. They felt reminiscent of the cathedral windows back home, being significantly smaller but similarly Victorian in design. Partially curtaining them were velvet drapes, grandly sized and filigreed with golden lacework. Glimmering under the waning rays was a copper telescope, standing tall enough to peer through at eye level – too bad it was essentially useless within the cave itself.

Hanging within the center of the room was a beautifully ornate chandelier, sitting over a large rug that was designed identically to the drapes, which also had an arrangement of plush blankets and pillows on top of it. A few stray feathers were interspersed with the almost nest like arrangement, indicating it was likely where Keigo slept. A peculiar choice, considering you spotted a king sized bed snugly slotted within an alcove adjacent to the windows, covered in a blanket of dust.

Whoever designed this ship had either a borderline obsessive appreciation for any and everything gold, or they simply wanted to display their wealth as brazenly as they could without crossing into the land of gaudy. Although in your opinion, the solid gold chain attached to the ceiling’s primary support beam, connecting to an equally gilded cage that dangled a few paces from a row of overflowing bookcases was officially a little excessive – there was even what looked to be the skeleton of a bird inside of it… poor thing clearly starved to death.

You didn’t even realize you had drifted further into the cabin, mindlessly brushing your fingers over a meridian globe that sat upon a massive antique desk of solid mahogany, until the sound of the doors shutting snapped you out of your trance.

Keigo chuckled at your spooked expression, as if you had legitimately forgotten where you were, whom you were with in that moment. For a second there, you almost did, which invoked a pang of disappointment in your chest for being denied the time to truly savor such a once in a lifetime experience. It wasn’t as if you wanted to be left behind, trapped here for the rest of your days, but you only wished that you could explore every secret this ship has to offer before leaving…

“Believe me, this is nothing. The deck beneath us is filled to the brim with gold and all sorts of priceless artifacts, as is the one beneath it – it’s honestly a mystery to me how this ship can even stay afloat,” he drones in a blasé tone, as if being exposed to such obscene opulence for so long has worn its novelty to him.

You certainly did not share his indifference, sweeping the room with wide eyes a second time before breathing in a dazed whisper, “Who on earth owned this ship? All of these things?”

“Didn’t you notice, silly girl?” For what felt like the umpteenth time today he is laughing at your expense, lazily gesturing above your head. “He’s right next to you.”

Your head whipped to your right, and indeed, you had somehow missed an oil painting that was affixed to the wall next to you. It depicted a man nobly reclined in a throne-like chair, bequeathed in a heavily embellished waistcoat of dark maroon, silk breeches that appeared far better tailored than your own, and a charcoal tri-cornered hat with a snowy-white feather fashioned to one of its brims. Other than a deep slash obscuring his visage, the most notable feature of the canvas was the human skull resting in one of his ring-adorned hands, which had a crown encrusted with diamonds and rubies sitting upon its cranium. Despite his inexplicably marred expression and identity, the air of power he seemed to ooze was not at all mitigated.

“I used to think I wasn’t one for jewelry,” Keigo suddenly spoke from your side, prompting your gaze to return to him. He was staring at the painting vacantly whilst fiddling with his rings, which you noticed to be curiously similar to the mysterious captain of this ship, although you couldn’t truly tell with how muddled from age it has become. “My kind likes to adorn themselves in bones, you see – too barbaric for my tastes.”

He reached across the desk for something that was hidden from your angle by the large globe, an impish smile slowly creeping over his face from your small, fascinated gasp when his hand returned with the very same skull in tow, crown and all. Keigo plucked the bejeweled headpiece from its dome, carelessly tossing the head back onto the desk and gingerly placed it upon his own. It sagged to the side almost immediately, evidently a little too big for his own skull, but it only felt fitting with his frivolous demeanor. Simpering, he preened beneath your attention, “But then I discovered human trinkets were far more fun to play with. Suits me rather nicely, don’t you think?”

You knew better than to feed into his ego, but you genuinely couldn’t help the faintly amused quirking of your lips, nor the dry response that fell from them. “You look like the type of king who would sit around all day, drinking himself stupid on wine while his society falls to ruin.”

He removed the crown, scoffing, “Already have me all figured out, do you? On the contrary, I wager I could lead a society into prosperity if I had the motivation.”

“I think anyone could achieve whatever they wanted with the right motivation,” you shot back, nearly reeling backward when he suddenly reached toward you.

“Touché,” Keigo purred, plopping the crown on your head before you could reflexively swat his hand away. For whatever reason you decided to play along, sighing in amused defeat as it drooped partially on your skull as well. Whomever this thing was fitted for must’ve had the genes of an ogre if it didn’t fit even on your head. Your grandmother had always said all that reading made your head too big.

“On second thought, I think it looks better on you.” He grinned devilishly, and now it was your turn to scoff. He wasn’t behaving abhorrently at least, but he would have to try a lot harder in order to distract you if that was his goal.

“Also, speaking of wine…” Pivoting on his heels, Keigo marched toward the middle of the room, where his makeshift nest was. Squinting in suspicion, it must’ve felt like you were burning holes into his back as he kneeled onto the blankets, wings stretched slightly to block his ministrations. The telltale sound of a cork popping followed by pouring indicated he really was going there, the shameless bird – of course he kept a bottle of wine where he slept. You already had an excuse loaded on the tip of your tongue when he rocked back to his feet and swiveled back toward you, smirking like a cat that ate the canary as he moseyed back to your side with a rather weighty looking goblet in hand.

“I know there’s another cup sitting around here somewhere… but I don’t feel like digging around for it right now, so you can use this one. It’s my favorite, by the way,” he whispered conspiratorially, as if sharing a long withheld secret, "so feel honored.”

You didn’t accept the drink right away, simply staring at it as he held it before you. He wasn’t actually being serious, was he? Did you look like the type of person that would throw caution to the wind, making yourself tipsy on a time sensitive… quest? Whatever the hell you could call this thing the captain sent you on?

“Aw, come on,” he cooed liltingly, waving it under your nose as if the scent alone would entice you into accepting. You suppose it did smell pretty good... “Don’t act like you don’t want to try it. This stuff is over a hundred years old – it’s way more valuable than the rubbish you came here for, in my opinion.”

“That’s…” You wrinkle your nose to deter the seductive aroma from swaying you, searching for ways to not outright decline him in order to remain in his good graces, “—kind of you to offer, but I probably shouldn’t.”

The saccharine smile he wore did not budge, but his voice was beginning to adopt the tiniest undertone of annoyance. “It wouldn’t be a crime to enjoy yourself, you know. Just give it a try – I know you’ll like it.”

You sighed, “I just— I don’t know. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but it just doesn’t sound like a good idea right now, is all.”

Keigo deflated, exhaling dramatically and topaz eyes downcast, shadowed by the curtains that were his tawny lashes. “Oh, alright... I suppose you can be on your way then if you’re already done here, and I can keep all of this treasure to myself, as usual…”

The urge to roll your eyes was gargantuan. Really? Was he legitimately guilt tripping you now? Could this be considered blackmail? And to think – you were shivering in your boots from his presence not even ten minutes ago.

“For the love of— fine,” you hiss, swiping the goblet from his hand. Some of it splashed onto his hand, but he didn’t seem to mind if the victorious twinkle in his eyes was anything to go by. “I’ll have a few sips, and that’s it.” And then you were leaving.

He beamed, lifting his hand to his face. “I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

You huffed into the lip of the cup, slowly tipping a sample of its contents into your mouth – yeah, I better not. You’d be sure to haunt him for the rest of his days if your heart gave out on the way back to the other ship.

Keigo hummed while languidly licking the crimson droplets that beaded off his fingers, pink tongue curling around the slender digits as he watched you drink, providing a teasing glimpse of those spear-like fangs. “Mm, isn’t it delicious?”

Awkwardly averting your eyes, you tried to focus on the wine’s taste instead, savoring the layered flavors of rose petals, cherries, and the lingering aftertaste of something even sweeter that you couldn’t quite identify, before gulping the liquid down your suddenly dried throat. You daintily smacked your lips, blinking in shock at how right he was; his smug chuckle implied he was aware of just that.

“This is kind of good, actually,” you admitted begrudgingly, frowning at him despite your agreeance as you went for another sip. He didn’t have to rub it in, at least.

“Just kind of?” he goaded, features haughty and intermingled with amusement. "Well, I have about a thousand more bottles you can try from since this one apparently isn't up to your standards."

You pressed your unoccupied hand to your mouth to keep from spraying your wine, swallowing through a small cough. Did you hear that correctly? A thousand bottles? On top of two decks that were literally overflowing with gold? It really was a mystery how this ship stayed afloat. “I think this one is sufficient, thank you.” You’d prefer to not drink yourself to death just yet, even with the day you’ve had thus far.

Toying with the goblet in your grasp, you raised it further to your face after noticing grooves beneath your fingertips. Now you could see why it was his favorite, with the gorgeously detailed engraving of a disembodied skull wrapped in a thorny bed of roses, its yawning jaw filled with a nest of songbirds. Above it was the bolded words Memento Mori – yet another Latin phrase.

“Do you know what that says, little scholar?” Keigo’s lowered voice brushed against your ear, invoking a startled little jolt from you. Fuck’s sake, he clearly had a thing for sneaking up on people, didn’t he? Must be a siren thing, you inwardly grumbled, leaning away from him and his cloying, heated breath. If he did that one more time, you were going to lecture him about the importance of boundaries.

“Pft, of course I do. That phrase is easy,” you said with a snooty upturn of your nose, irritated by how patronizing he sounds when he calls you that. “It means remember death, or remember you must die, to be specific.”

“Latin,” he intoned drily, rolling his eyes as he leaned back against the desk with his hip, “pretty, but always so gloomy. The Greeks really needed to liven up a little."

“I think they were rather brilliant,” you muttered into your cup, irked by his easy dismissal of one of the most influential societies the world has ever known. “Their history especially.”

Keigo snorted, arms folding as he regarded you through a lidded stare, evidently not surprised by your opinion, “Naturally. Their language is ancient, and the root of many others. You humans love to dwell in the past.”

Raising one brow, you replied tartly, “Is that so bad, when the present can be so disappointing?”

“Oh? Do I disappoint you?”

You were very tempted to say yes – if only to knock his narcissistic ass down a peg – but that would probably only invite his pestering further, so you deigned to take another drink instead of answering. He undoubtedly already knew what your reply would’ve truly been, gauging by that unnervingly knowing look. Such cunning eyes he had, constantly looking as if they were peeling back the skin-deep layers of your outer persona, and delving into the truth of your heart.

"Anyhow,” he sang, pushing himself from the desk and strutting toward the wall of bookshelves, which were practically spilling over with books despite stretching all the way up to the ceiling and the conjoining walls. You trailed after him, unable to resist being drawn to such a plethora of untapped resources. He withdrew a book that must have been white once, but now was yellowed with age; peeking at the cover, you noticed with discreet interest that it was titled Les Amours. “I myself am quite fond of French. They certainly knew how to appreciate life's pleasures.”

“However…” Yet again, he is leaning into you, fanning that heady warmth over the curve of your cheek, yet this time something within you commands you to be still as a statue as he imprinted the following words onto your skin:

“Le seul vrai langage au monde est un baiser.”

It felt as if he exhaled sparks over your flesh, prompting the miniscule hair follicles they danced over to readily stand at attention. The velvety enunciation that he articulated in felt more than just practiced – it was utterly refined; almost like it were his native tongue.

For some reason you felt parched anew, as a steadily rising heat brewed in your lungs and esophagus, but only a few measly drops fell onto your tongue when you quickly tipped the goblet to your mouth to appease it. How odd – you could have sworn you hadn’t partaken in more than a few sips until now. Something in the furthermost part of your mind was instantly pleading for more – more of that ambrosial sweetness that dwelled after each taste – but you shunned it in favor of remaining present in the conversation. Failing to clear the smoldering coals lodged in your throat, your voice was hoarse as you tentatively questioned him, “What—what does that mean?"

Keigo’s mouth twisted into an enigmatic smile as that electric gaze sank to your lips, trailing static all over their tingling surface, leaving you chilled without its tangible weight when it shifted elsewhere nearly as fast as it came. “Wouldn't you like to you know,” he lilted, snapping the book shut and nudging it back into its original placement by the tip of his claw.

“Well, yes,” you said vexingly, stamping down the anxious urge to gnaw on your bottom lip, feeling strangely fixated on the elegant lines of his tendons and knuckles. Why did your nerves feel so… charged all of a sudden? “It’s why I asked.”

He laughs whilst idly thumbing across the spine of a leather-bound tome, side eyeing you before playfully sighing, “Fine, it means—”

A loud ringing suddenly filled your ears, drowning out his following words. Dizzying vertigo swiftly followed as a rose-colored fuzziness bled into the edges of your vision. You grabbed onto a shelf as subtly as you could manage as alarm – and dare you say the undercurrents of want – surged through your veins. Is this due to the wine? But… you’ve never had a reaction like this before. Was it an allergic response to an ingredient, or something? Has it gone bad? Can wine even go bad?

“Sorry I…” You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, resisting the desire to fan yourself. You were beginning to feel hot, so very, very hot. “Could you repeat that?”

“Is something wrong?” Keigo questioned lightly, although you didn’t miss the mysterious gleam in his eyes, a probing scrutiny similar to when he had interrogated you upon your meeting. For some reason, the image of your grandmother’s face flickered in your mind’s eye, of the cryptic warnings that often fell from her wrinkled, downturned lips. Something was wrong, and you were quickly suspecting it wasn’t because of the wine; these symptoms could not be normal.

Perhaps your grandmother conditioned you into a hopeless cynic just like her, but her chosen phrase when it rains it pours almost never proved itself wrong; you always found yourself regretful in the aftermath of disregarding the signs, only when it was too little, too late.

“You look… unwell. Too much to drink?”

It’s time to leave, you abruptly decided. You no longer felt safe here; the idyllic, fantasy-like atmosphere warping into the mouth of a Venus flytrap, its gaping mouth poised to close upon you at any moment, at any sign of struggle. You should have just dove back into the water the moment you were greeted with a damned congregation of corpses earlier. Even the scrawled message beneath that woman’s hand… the signs were there from the very beginning.

Dying for the sake of freedom be damned, you should have just acknowledged your capabilities and taken your chances with the pirates – and that was what you were going to do.

“N-No, you— um…” Slowly backing away, you staggered slightly whilst cautiously retreating toward the exit, the crown falling from your head and landing on the floor with a noisy clatter, causing your internal panic to flare – you had completely forgotten you were even wearing it. Keigo did not follow, staring you down coolly as he stalked to his nest instead, wings swishing over the mound of blankets. “You have been very hospitable, but I think it’s time for me to leave.”

“Aw, already? What about the fun we were having? The treasure?” You knew it must have been deliberate with how silky and lyrical his voice sounded, as if he intended to tranquilize you into a state of pacification, as sirens were rumored to do. Unfortunately, it was working, seeing as it began to feel like you were wading through mud, your steps petering to a stop. It begs the question: why was it only working now? Wouldn’t you have been ensnared from the moment he first spoke to you?

“Was it something I said?” He pouted, bottom lip jutting dramatically. It felt like you were going to be sick, but not as sickeningly aroused as you were becoming; with every word he uttered, you could feel the slick collecting in the inseam of your pants, oozing all over your inner thighs at a terrifyingly rapid rate. He put something in your drink; it was the only logical conclusion for what was happening to you. Too fast – this was all happening too fast.

“No, I just—” You bit back a groan, nearly doubling over from the agonizing pressure that was white-knuckling your womb, “it’s just— it’s getting rather late, and I’m feeling… tired, so I think it would be wise to start heading back.” Fuck, it was nigh impossible to think or speak clearly, especially with him just a few steps away. You could smell it – the honeyed scent that wafted off him… it was just like that flavor that still clung to your taste buds. It was everywhere, enveloping you like a physical embrace, and seeping into your pores.

You wanted more, needed more; your aching body was insisting it would die without it, but you knew you absolutely must not listen.

“Back to those brutes?” Keigo tsked, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he shook that sandy head of hair; your fingers twitched, longing to gauge its softness. “I don’t get it. What is there to go back to? A life of misery, with no simple pleasures? What about your freedom, hm? I believe you said you’d rather die if you couldn’t have those things. Or was that all just… hot air?”

Gritting your teeth behind tightly pressed lips, it felt like your feet were anchored to the spot, your bones audibly creaking as though they were as you forced them to turn towards the doors.

“Goodbye, Keigo. It was… nice meeting you.” With all of the remaining resolve you could muster, you raised a trembling hand, reaching for the handle—

“Stop.”

You froze, as if the line delivering information from your brain to your limbs was severed. Your voice was hardly more than a delicate undertone, barely squeezing past your stiff lips and locked jaw, “I… beg your pardon?”

“I said stop,” he repeated shortly, that slightly enunciated utterance causing your arm flop to your side, dangling limply. “I didn’t give you permission to leave, did I?”

Despite the black, libidinous ichor pumping through your hammering heart, visceral anger lanced through it like a red-hot poker, giving you the strength to spit your ire clearly. You no longer cared whom or what he was – how dare he do this to you?

“You asked for a moment of my time, and that is precisely what I gave you,” you hissed airily, shaking like a leaf from head to toe. “So you can either deliver on what was promised and let me be on my damned way peacefully, or I—”

“Shut up.”

Your jaws slammed together like a steel trap, lips sealing instantly. His voice echoed almost ethereally, latching itself onto your subconscious and assuming control of you like a puppeteer. All you were capable of was blinking, swaying in place as you stared with bug-eyed terror at the doors a mere arm’s length away from you. Like a child, all you craved in this exact moment was the safety of your grandmother’s embrace, as fat tears quickly accumulated in your waterline. You were scared. You wanted to go home. You should have listened to her warnings sooner.

“There, that’s better,” Keigo sighed contentedly from behind you, as though your voice was beginning to grate on his last nerve. “I was beginning to think it would never kick in. Such a stubborn thing you are… but I must admit – I do so love a challenge.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, salty droplets spilled down your burning cheeks. This isn’t happening; it’s all a just dream. This isn’t happening. It’s all just a dream.

“Now then… turn around.”

Your body automatically complied, moving like a well-oiled machine under his silver-tongued instruction. You kept your eyes closed with the hanging thread of your free will, denying him the satisfaction of seeing the defeat in your gaze, although the trails of your tears likely conveyed that plainly enough.

He hummed lowly, a deeply gratified sound. The sick bastard was enjoying this – enjoying your torment – like it were a private show. There was an extended stretch of silence within the cabin, so stifling you that could hear your pulse pounding like war drums in your ears, until finally, he softly crooned, “Take off your clothes.”

When your fingers darted to the laces of your bodice, he swiftly added, “Slowly.”

You could feel the hungry crawl of his eyes following the garment’s unraveling, practically attached to the sluggish path your hands paved, slowing your movements with the weight of his stare alone. It strayed from where your digits traveled, dragging its heat over the curve of your bosom peeking from the plunging neckline of your chemise as you pulled the outer article off your torso. It dropped to the floor soundlessly, immediately forgotten as you obediently moved onward, like a marionette dancing to his tune. Neither of you noticed the scrap of paper that fell with it.

“That’s more like it,” he purred while the cream-colored undergarment was tugged over your head, relishing in the enticing reveal of your pebbled nipples and pert breasts, their shape accentuated by the lifting of your arms. Were you even aware of how precious you were? It practically radiated off you – your virginal innocence. And Keigo was itching to have his fill. “Mm… you were worth the wait.”

Unable to speak unless he commanded it, the best you could manage in reply was an agitated twitch of your eyebrows. The sound of his breathy chuckle had your hair standing on end, even as you dutifully toed off your boots before untying the knot in your waistband.

“Wait,” he ordered, before your breeches could join the rest of your clothes piled at your feet.

What, you thought amidst the cacophony of pining, mewling whispers. What else could you possibly want, you demon?

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Of course, he would thieve even that last scrap of your dignity, forcing you to look him in the eye as you debased yourself, as you bestowed him with a sight you had yet to grant any other man. You intended to save yourself, to wait until it truly felt right. It was only natural, you supposed, for this cruel world to chew you up and spit you out, with such naïve ideations. It was only natural, that it would repay you in kind most deplorably, for daring to ever dream at all.

Peeling your tear encrusted lashes apart, your watery gaze pinpointed him the second it was unveiled. Keigo was reclined in his nest in a manner that would befit a spoiled prince, ankles crossed casually and arms planted behind him. Those crimson wings were splayed wide; almost seeming to meld seamlessly with the blankets had they not been so lengthy they stretched beyond them, scimitar shaped feathers fanning out onto the floorboards. The black chevrons on the corners of his eyes somehow seemed even more pronounced in the twilight glow that washed over the room, enhancing the lambent intensity of his yellow irises – a petrifying stare more befitting of a basilisk.

Was he really what they call a siren… or a chimaera masquerading as one?

Regardless, it was in this moment you were adequately reminded of the powerful otherworldliness his kind possessed, and how wise one would be to not forget, as you so foolishly have.

“Good girl,” he praised through a husky timbre, eliciting the swelling voices in your mind to sigh out in bliss. More, more, they begged. “You’re doing so well. Continue.”

And so you did, staring him down as you rid yourself of the last protection of your decency. Your pants slid down your legs like satin over polished steel, crumpling to the floor in a small heap. Like a hollow vessel awaiting the directive of its master, you stood perfectly still as Keigo indulgently took you in.

“My my…” His eyes zeroed on the shining glaze smeared all over the apex of your thighs as a buzzard would a fresh corpse, pupils pinpricked predatorily. “Is that all for me? You coy little thing,” he smiled like a ravening jackal, protruding canines flashing in the dimming light as he wagged an index finger disapprovingly, “acting so put off to my company a moment ago, while hiding a treat like that. It’s naughty to not share, you know.”

You did not like the sound of that implication, but another part of you – a part that was quickly dousing the inferno of your lucidity – certainly did.

Rotating the pad of that finger towards the chandelier that hung above him, his black talon glinting like obsidian as he curled it at you two times, and declared firmly, “Come.”

With that single command, your vision dissolved into static, eyes rolling into the dark vacancy of your head as your legs buckled and collapsed beneath you. You barely had the forethought in using your hands to cushion your fall forward, narrowly preventing you from caving your nose in as you crumpled into a convulsing ball. The sound of your despaired moans peeled out throughout the cabin, much to Keigo’s surprise and delight, as your body was wracked with an earth-shattering, hands-free climax. The first of this scale that you’ve ever had.

"Oops," Keigo titters from his throne of blankets, not sounding remorseful in the absolute slightest while he watched you gasp and writhe. "Goodness, me and my clumsy mouth. I apologize, darling – should have been more specific. Come here, I mean.”

Your insides were still contracting – almost excruciatingly so – as you shakily prepared to upright yourself, but he promptly halted that with a few strict tuts, “Ah-ah, hold on... I think I prefer you like that, actually.”

“Hm, yes…” He hums approvingly, reveling in the sinful display of your degradation, hunched over like a cat in heat; the only thing you were missing was the coiled tail and flattened ears. Quite the lovely contrast to the irritable little brat from earlier, in his opinion. “It suits you. Crawl to me as you are.”

On quivering hands and knees, you crawled. What a sight you must have made, you dimly wondered, whilst the slavering hounds of your psyche yipped and whined the shorter the distance between the two of you became. Did you look as pathetic as you felt, broken and brought to heel with only a few words? Keigo certainly seemed to adore it, cocking his head and smirking like a man who had the world, your world, in the palm of his hand.

Although as of today, it no longer belonged to you.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time your fingertips sank into the cushiony swathes of velvet he was lounged upon, restlessly rooting for purchase as you drew closer to his feet. Ever considerate, Keigo uncrossed his legs to provide you with an unobstructed path leading directly to his lap, angling them inward to press his knees against your sides as you passed beyond the threshold of them, the fabric of his pants dragging against your exposed flesh as you skulked onward. You seemed to slot together like puzzle pieces, as your torso melded with his lower half almost perfectly.

“That was rude – trying to scamper off like that earlier,” he admonished quietly, lifting a hand to pet your head with a tender fondness. He appeared to take extra care to not lacerate your scalp with his nails as his fingers delved into your hair, toying with your strands almost lovingly. What a conundrum he was, going from vainglorious and wicked to gentle and affectionate in a heartbeat, like an endlessly spiraling coin. “We were bonding, weren't we?”

I suppose, you might have conceded. Until you decided to prove every rumor about your kind was true.

“Everything would have gone smoothly if you weren’t such a tough nut to crack, you know? Lesser minds would have folded from a single word out of my mouth, and they have; they all do, eventually. One way or another—” His fingers burrowed deeper, affixing to your roots and tugging with a wince-inducing pressure. Back to wicked. “…they always cave.”

"But you... oh you,” he chuckled, dragging his hand down to deliver a couple of condescending pats to your cheek. “It seems that you're a special little nut; I've never had to resort to using my saliva." He sneered that word in a way that implied exerting such effort was considered to be beneath him, as though it were some form of cheating in this disturbed game he liked to play, upper lip stretching over his fangs in a contemptuous curl as his digits latched onto your jaw. You stared back at him through misty eyes, unable to even flinch as those knifelike claws began to puncture your skin.

“I may enjoy a challenge, but that was a new low for me. I'll admit, you had me worried for a moment – almost thought it wasn't going to work. Then we really would have had a predicament on our hands, hm?” He pinched your cheeks, smearing your blood as he smooshed them until your lips puckered, nodding your head in orchestrated agreement.

As if he’s suddenly grown bored of playing with you like a doll, Keigo released your face, sighing, “You can speak now, but behave.”

The invisible force keeping your tongue adhered to the roof of your mouth lifted, granting the muscle freedom to move once again. You had no choice words for the vile truths he had just divulged, opting instead to appeal to his sense of mercy – if he had any.

“Pl—Please…” you gulped a thick wad of drool, speech slurring as you looked up at him, hiccupping and sniffing pitiably, “let mm—me go… don’ care ‘bout the treasure any more… jus’ lemme go, please, Kei…”

"Aw, ‘Kei’? How sweet,” he cooed while lifting his unsoiled hand to dab the spittle from your wobbling bottom lip, wrapping his bloodied one around your throat like a loose collar, dragging a thumb over your beating pulse; it fluttered delicately beneath his touch, like a butterfly’s wings. “There's that well-mannered girl from when we first met, but I think we both know it's a little too late for that. It was too late for you the moment you surfaced in this cave – my cave."

So he had been watching you, from the very beginning. It made sense now – that rope which seemingly appeared from nowhere. It was Keigo, leading a trail of breadcrumbs right to himself. For a siren, he truly was rather lazy, when he likely could have snatched you from your rowboat before you even got close to shore.

“Ah… what’s that saying the French say?” Pondering aloud, he withdrew the hand around your throat to tap two fingers on his pursed lips, smudging them with your scarlet essence, before abruptly exclaiming, “Oh! C’est la vie. Everything happens for a reason, no? Such is life and all that…”

“That reminds me,” he says through a scheming smile, staining his tongue with your blood as it laved over his mouth, coating your flavor onto his taste buds. Truly, the nectar of an untouched maiden was unmatched… but he was willing to bet different nectar of yours would soon become his favorite snack yet. If only you knew of all the fun he had in store for you. “Do you want to know what I said earlier, while your pretty little head was filling with air, filling with me?”

Keigo didn’t offer you a chance to respond, snaking the hand that was cupping your face to the back of your head, pressing his fingers against the base of your cranium to anchor you in place as he inclined his own head forward to answer, “The only true language in the world is a kiss. Care for an example?”

“W-Wait,” you whispered, fearing what would come after more than the act itself. If just a little bit of his saliva mixed into your wine made you this useless, this receptive, then what would a dose straight from the source do to you?

“Behave,” he hissed into your parted mouth, snuffing the embers of your disparity before they could gain the fuel to take form. Not that your verbal resistance could even achieve anything, when your body was as pliant as clay beneath his masterful touch. All you could do was whimper as he fused his lips with yours, selfishly condemning you to fall further into a lustful misery with a pleased croon.

“Delicious…” His tone was a gravelly rumble, rolling over your saliva coated lips like a slow flowing magma, scorching them red with hot, bruising pecks. It quickly became insufficient, pulling just your swollen lips between his.

The impatient siren tugged you closer, growling softly as his slick muscle slithered into your panting maw, seeking out the shy appendage hiding behind your teeth. You never once considered that kissing could sound so… lewd, but then again, this couldn’t be rightfully labeled as such. It was like he was eating you alive, sucking on your tongue as though he wished to swallow it down. He was so unbelievably warm that you thought you were melting, unable to discern the rivulets of drool pooling down your chins from your own flesh and sweat, nor could you find where you ended and he begun.

Or perhaps it was just your brain that was melting, oozing out of your ears and down the back of your neck, rather than sweat. You weren’t sure you could even be considered a participant anymore (if you could be called one in the first place), merely attempting to remain conscious as Keigo had his wicked way with you. Even if you could think to breathe through your nose, it would’ve been an impossible feat through the cascade of his sweet, sweet saliva flowing down your gullet. Fractal shapes were dancing on the insides of your eyelids, imprinted everywhere you looked when you attempted to blink the veneer of pinkness from your vision.

What… what was your reason for being here, again? Something about treasure, and freedom… but you just couldn’t quite remember…

Keigo finally detached from you with an obscenely wet smack, breaking the webs of spit bridging the scant space between you two as he leaned back, grinning broadly at your glassy eyed state. He didn’t seem even slightly out of breath, whereas you were breathing like you had rowed the distance from the captain’s ship all over again. Wait – the captain… why did that sound so familiar?

“I would say that was just what I needed, but—” He peeled your damp body from his lap, dragging a path of fire down your sides with his palms until they settled on your hips, effortlessly lifting you into a splayed-out position on top of him as he sunk further onto his back, wings outspread entirely. If you had even a fraction of coherence left, you would have been mortified at how utterly exposed your sex was, dripping so profusely that it was starting to collect within the grooves of his abdominals. “…I'm still a little parched. Mind if I relieve myself between these lovely thighs?”

“Where… are we?” You questioned as though his words went through one ear and out the other, moreso at the foreign voices invading your thoughts rather than the famished creature who was hurriedly hoisting you over its face. Exactly where we need to be, they responded in a resounding chorus. Do not question it; do not fight it. Just be.

Keigo almost forgot to answer, his higher thinking briefly reduced to a crude, primal state of hunger, as he intimately beheld what might have been the most delectable cunt he has ever seen.

“…Heaven, darling.” He managed to utter once he scraped his cognitive function back together, gazing at the glistening apex of you like it held the meaning to his dreadfully prolonged existence. Wrapping the corded bands of his arms around your thighs, Keigo yearned to dig his fingers into the meat of your haunches, to embed you to him by the hooks of his claws. He feared he might never want to surface ever again, once he finally plunged his tongue into your sodden depths. Although that wasn’t such a terrible way to go, suffocating in the rivers of your pleasure. It would be dying how he wished to live: lost between the legs of a ravishing woman.

“Rather, that’s where I’ll be sending you,” he breathed reverently, Adam’s apple bobbing as he huffed your feminine fragrance whilst nuzzling at your mound, stimulating your pulsing clit with the tip of his nose. You keened softly at the teasingly featherlight touch, hypersensitive from artificial lust and going a lifetime without ever tasting true pleasure at the hands of another.

“I wanted you on my mouth from the moment I laid eyes on you… knew it’d be the best cunt I’ve ever had,” he confessed, peering up at you through the cleft of your thighs as he used his tongue to spread your syrupy folds apart, squishing that pink cushion against your weeping entrance. Keigo glowered into your teary eyes as if in threat, like he were a carnivore daring you to deprive him of his hard-earned meal; the extent of his claim over you so severe he was gently scraping his fangs over your puffy lips with salacious possession, tempted to spear into you like a ripened peach.

You felt akin to a newborn, thrust into a terrifying and ruthless world that was beyond your comprehension. Lurching backward, your equilibrium fled from you while you were mercilessly feasted upon from below. You floundered helplessly before your hands flew backward to prevent you from toppling over, slapping onto his solid pectorals as he jerked you downward to keep you properly seated on him. Your head tipped back from enraptured anguish, jaw dropping in sync with Keigo’s as your distressed cries overlapped almost harmoniously with his frustrated, muffled groans. It was as though he simply could not get enough, could not fit enough of you onto his palate without mangling you, as he attempted to seal his lips over the whole of your swollen heat in gluttonous vain.

Well, Keigo wouldn’t be deprived of anything, so he would pursue something he was more than capable of, which was stuffing you with him. A warbling, drawn-out moan accompanied the sensation of his tongue impaling your core like melted butter, burrowing to the absolute brink of your plush, throbbing walls. It was downright bestial, similar to the rest of his defining features – that flexible, serpentine muscle seemingly endless in length…

The arms encasing your thighs rocked you, guiding your hips over his mouth, spreading your narrow slot around his broad tongue. The further it went the more it curled, corkscrewing around itself whilst squirming with an innate precision, prodding against a spongey part of yourself that you hadn’t even known existed. But how could you have known, with those poor little fingers of yours? Such an endearing yet tragic sight it was – your lost look of confusion, as you obliviously hurtled like a speeding comet towards a real climax. The first of so, so many.

Honestly, how had you even managed on your own for so long, without knowing what your body was truly capable of?

Everything was going to be okay, though… because Hawks was here for you now. The sculptor of wills, the subjugator of mortals – here to make it all better. He would give you more pleasure than your young mind could even fathom, until it – until he – was all that you knew. With such a pristine canvas to work with, he would mold you better than any pet he had owned in his centuries of living; his magnum opus was what you would soon become.

It was going to be beautiful. You would be beautiful – more than you already were. Oh, how fortunate he was to have you delivered right to him.

The moment his tongue stroked your upper wall, digging against the tender springiness of doughy muscle with malicious pressure, the world around you ignited in a flickering brightness. You had sincerely believed that it was a direct response to the utter euphoria coursing through you, setting the fabric of reality ablaze. Even as the cabin returned to its gloaming dimness, your vision remained stained in white. The only explanation for the thundering boom resounding from above was because of your quaking heartbeat, shaking the whole of the earth itself. Despite your gaping mouth, you were incapable of producing a sound, merely choking air down in gasping intervals.

The sound of him thrusting into you, however, was noisy – obscene. It finally receded after a couple of thorough pumps, the snakelike organ slipping through your squeezing confines and pulling out with thick strings of slick attached to it, rolling in dollops onto his chin when they succumbed to the pull of gravity.

“Fuck,” he huffed into your twitching cunt, bathing it in a balmy wash of his hot, hot breath. “I’ve never tasted a pussy so sweet… I don't think I'll ever get enough – I'm going to suck you dry.”

True to his intention, he merged his glossy lips with yours, faint clicks coming from beneath you as he kissed your sex in a vulgar imitation of what he had previously done to your mouth. He smeared your honey upward, carving a messy path through your labia to the poor, neglected nub sitting on the peak of your mound. Keigo pulled it into his mouth, nursing on it sweetly, as though in apology. His appetite for you truly was limitless, considering he seemed loath to separate his face from your bottom half yet.

You weren’t sure how your life force hasn’t already been drained from you entirely, with how ravenous he was for your lust – a result of some sort of aphrodisiac he produced naturally, surely. One might think him completely heedless to his own lust, content to siphon arousal off you like you were his personal reservoir, until an arm uncoiled from your thighs to travel down the hard planes of his stomach, dipping beneath his waistband where something stiff was trapped. As if spurred by its counterpart, his other arm unwound from you as well, splayed fingers dragging up your belly to seize one of your heaving breasts.

With nothing to support your lower extremities, the brunt of your weight was pressed onto his mouth, but it hardly seemed like an issue for Keigo, unbothered and merrily slurping away as his hands played with both you and himself.

Tentatively, you heeded the whispers suggesting you to remove one hand from his chest, to slide your digits into his flaxen locks and fasten them there. Keigo purred in approval, aiding your undulating movements with the eager nodding of his head. Now you were getting it; his sweet little scholar was learning so fast. An unearthly ardor swam in his golden eyes, almost appearing incandescent as he fed from you, fed off the palpable need he was inciting within your body. He could feel it approaching before even you could – the orgasm filling the engorged bundle trapped between his lips.

Raw sensation was becoming the only thing you could understand, pleasure the only language you could remotely articulate. The dusty residue of carefully amassed knowledge, trinkets of tucked away memories, were all swept away in but a blink as your mind, body, and soul was swallowed into a maelstrom of bliss. Keigo was all you could perceive, and all you could feel.

And he would make sure it stayed that way; he wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers like he had with the last one…

The neurons in your brain sputtered shortly, crackling like livewires as you gushed over his swirling tongue, over the lower half of his face. The sound of gulping could be heard, Keigo trying his damnedest to catch the majority of your juices. Only once he deemed you adequately spent did he finally unseal his mouth from your cunt, a deeply satisfied exhale accompanying its separation.

“I could just eat you up for hours, but I think I’ll save that for another time… make a proper day of it, you know?” He laughs cruelly, sending your fluttering folds off with one last, teasing puff of air before halting his hands from their self-indulgent activities to resituate you over his lap.

“Now I want you to ride me – just like you did my face.” He licked the shiny glaze from his devilish smile, indifferent to the remnants that beaded off his jaw as he caressed his palms up and down the trembling thighs that straddled his own. “Think you can do that for me, pretty girl?”

You couldn’t recall who this being lying beneath you was before now, nor did you know what he meant by those confusing words... but you did know that he was capable of making you feel things – such nice, wonderful things... so why should you not listen to him?

With a demure nod, you grabbed onto the divots of his hips, and began to rub yourself against the tautly stretched fabric of the hard bulge he had placed you on. Keigo chuckled, taken with the adorable naiveté newly instilled within you.

“Oh, you sweet, silly thing,” he cooed fondly, giving your legs a playful yet immobilizing squeeze. “I might've overdone it… seems I’ve sucked your brain out of that pussy too, hm?”

You gazed down at him in confusion at his stilling of your movements. Weren’t you doing exactly as he asked? This was the same thing you had done to his face… wasn’t it?

“Here, let me help you a little.”

Holding your gaze firm, his biceps hardly quivered as he lifted you high enough into the air to lift his hips. What happened next would have been something you could only describe as a figment of your imagination, had you not already been poised over an entity whose existence alone confirmed reality was no longer what you made of it.

…or formerly made, one should say.

Two streaks of red darted through the air, zipping and whizzing around your form as unidentifiable blurs until they flitted under you toward Keigo’s waistband, which was where they settled. You realized they were feathers – the very same that belonged to the imposingly large, outstretched appendages extending from his back – moving autonomously despite the laws of physics, or practicality for that matter.

Such things weren’t much of a concern to you anymore, though. You observed in dewy-eyed wonderment as the plumes pulled down his pants like dutiful, disembodied hands. His stiff length slapped onto his belly with a heavy smack, dribbling his own sticky desire onto his skin. Naturally, it was flawless like the rest of Keigo, being neither too excessive nor modest in both length and width, tantalizing yet intimidating in design due to how shaped for pleasure it appeared to be.

Your mouth watered at how rosy and swollen the head was, peeking through a sheath of tight foreskin from which it was visibly desperate to be released, and practically overflowing with pearls of pre.

So spellbound you were by his gorgeous cock that you’d all but forgotten about the independently thinking, gravity-defying feathers, until they suddenly flattened to your waist after discarding his pants, spiraling up your torso and leading a trail of goosebumps to your collarbones. Keigo lowered you back onto him while those little red hellions returned to his sprawled wings, emitting a raspy sigh at the feel of your pussy lips pressing against his achingly full balls like soft, squishy pillows.

Simply unable to resist, he rolled his hips against yours, sliding the underside of his shaft through your soppy folds. You caught on quick – at least to those telling twinges you felt deep in your gut, an enkindling of wanting warmth that only his touch seemed to appease. Your cunt chased after him, greedily humping his cock until it glistened with a generous coating of spit-mixed slick. Oh gods, that feeling was back already…

You whimpered pathetically, afraid that you will have to live with this ungodly burning inside of you until it eventually consumes you from the inside, consumes you until you literally expire. Make it better… he’ll make it all better… won’t he?

“What a needy mess I’ve turned you into. Tell me, does my needy girl want it inside?”

“Yes,” you almost couldn’t wait for him to finish speaking to pipe up, voice brittle from the unbearable yearning that was charring your innards to a crisp. “I—I want it, please…”

If Keigo managed to look any smugger, his neck might’ve snapped from his head’s overinflated weight. The satisfaction that he exuded was palpable, trailing off him in waves as he leered at you domineeringly despite the submissive, vulnerable nature of his position. Clearly, he did not need to rely on physicality alone to express his authority, with a pervasive influence residing in every nuance of his being. Keigo truly was something nature would deem as an alpha, in every sense of the word.

“By all means – help yourself. It’s yours now.”

Was it cruel to hand you the reigns when you were unknowingly moments from breaking the seal of your virginity on his hard, impure cock? Perhaps a little. Was it unjust to invite you to claim your own gratification, despite knowing once you were pumped with his seed, there wouldn’t be a crumb of a possibility to recovering the identity you once had?

Not in Keigo’s eyes.

Although, to be fair… Keigo was what parents would describe to their children during bedtime stories as a monster – a grotesque boogeyman squeezed inside of an angelic skinsuit.

So monstrous he apparently was, that even his own kind deemed it necessary in casting him out, finding his methods of sating himself via an “imprisoned” victim beyond reproach. Personally, he saw them all as spoiled, brain-dead hypocrites. He wouldn’t have to resort to such extremes if females weren’t already such a rarity to encounter amongst sailors, and he’d rather pluck his own feathers than follow his species’ customs by ending the life of every catch after their “use” has been fulfilled – an act of mercy, they claimed it to be. Exile be damned, if there was one thing Keigo loved more than indulging in the most sinful of vices this world has to offer—

It was shaping waifs like you into his permanent, cross-eyed fucktoys. That was what he called proper mercy.

And how unfortunate for you… encountering him when he was beyond due for a new one.

It truly took everything within him not to gorge his talons into your hindquarters and ruthlessly skewer you onto his cock, to not buck into the cozy warmth of your snug little pocket as you prepared to mount him. Difficult as it was, Keigo needed to remain patient, to keep this moment special – because he deserved this. He deserved you.

…almost as much as he deserved to drill that lush pussy within a hairsbreadth of tearing straight through to the clutch your womb, but all good things come to those who wait… right?

Right, he chanted in a looping mantra, splitting his bottom lip beneath a gnashing canine while your velvety folds bloomed around his head, clit catching on the angry flare of his glans. Patience, Keigo – patience.

“A little lower, darling… you’re almost there.” His whispered words strained through clenched teeth, carrying a feigned lilt of sweetness. It seemed there was a delay with your response time, seeing as you continued to drag the slippery peaks of your sexes together with a lidded, dreamy haze clouding your eyes. Thankfully, Keigo’s whittled restraint didn’t have a chance to fully unravel, once that subtle order finally managed to pierce the heavy fog surrounding your brain. A breathy mewl rolled off your partially exposed tongue, at the audible pop of his blunt head squeezing past the tight ring of your opening.

It was good that he prepared you somewhat when he was eating you inside out, not that it was needed due to his own elixir surging through your system, but teasing your cunt with the pleasure of being filled was certainly paying its respects now.

“There we go,” he hissed, head dropping and lashes fluttering at the rhythmic gripping of your insides. You little minx, getting off on inserting just the tip of his cock. Were you even aware of anything beyond that dumb, blank stare? Have you already reached the point where the tiniest of sensations fed into one long, ceaseless climax? If not, he would be sending you there very soon. It was quite possibly his favorite part, watching his playthings devolve into a slave of feeling, plummeting for the first time into that pit of bottomless rhapsody.

Keigo growled, a guttural foulness clinging to his once silvery inflection, as he openly mocked you while your drenched heat slowly enveloped him, “I haven't even put it in halfway and you’re already trying to milk me dry. Poor thing… so sensitive.” So much for being sweet – women like you truly weren’t aware of the power they held between their legs, how it could reduce even a specimen of Keigo’s level to a borderline primitive state.

Unaware of the pink lines you were scratching down his flexed abdominals, your jaw fell more slack at the heavenly burn of his girth prying you open, your eyes unseeing as raw sensation once again took you over irrevocably. You could actually feel it – his sheath sliding with the wet suction of your muscles, his drooling head paving a sloppy path up, up, and up. It was divine… he was divine – immaculate – in every aspect possible.

Your cunt was your voice of veneration, oozing its praise down the rigid column of flesh spearing it all the way through in a torturously languid glide. Perspiration coated your forehead, trickling past your furrowed brows and beading off the tip of your nose as you gradually sunk onto him, sinking and sinking onto that instrument of hedonism until it couldn’t go any further. An airy exhale fled your lungs, at the feeling of him nudging against the pappy padding of your cervix, two mouths of opposing design kissing each other for first time – but undoubtedly not the last.

Tonguing the blood that dribbled off his bared fangs, Keigo sneered as though the vision of debauchery hungrily engulfing his cock – like it were the very sustenance for your survival – disgusted him; but of course, it was quite the opposite.

“I think this pussy does want to be filled up… y’hear that?” He’s given up on handling you delicately, it seems, the addictive quality of your freshly broken in sex unearthing the animalistic calling to pin a cornered mate down, to rut into their presented slit like a prize fairly won. His fingers finally succumbed to that incessant itch to dig into your hips, fulfilling the inevitability that was lifting you up and down like a ragdoll molded for his pleasure. Those deadly nails punctured your skin just as they had your face, inviting bloody tracks to trail over the curve of your ass and thighs. The pain only made you moan harder.

“Yeah,” he moaned throatily, delighting in the filthy symphony of your merging bodies, the squelching collisions of your cunt swallowing him up while smacking against his tightening scrotum. Admittedly, he wasn’t fighting his breakneck descent into flooding you with a severely backed-up release, but it wasn’t as if you weren’t contributing with how zealously you were wringing him out, strangling him for everything he had. “She’s beggin’ for it…”

How disappointing, an echo of your former self lamented, fractured and left to fade within a forgotten alcove of your rapidly shrinking mind. How demeaning, being reduced to nothing but an extension of what was between your legs, a mere ornament for a wanton beast to hang off its cock. She hated this, and she hated you – this lust drunk stranger who spoke with her voice, sniveling in assent to the despicable filth spewing from this despicable brute. It didn’t matter that none of this was your choice, didn’t matter that you were essentially a blank slab he was chiseling into a shape of his own nefarious design – you were a pathetic disappointment… but then again, so was she, for leading her depressing life to such a depressing conclusion. Pathetic and fitting.

“P—Pl—” Stammering like a fool, you were barely of the mental capacity to even control your tongue beyond hanging it out like a useless bitch in heat, barely able to wrangle the single functioning brain cell ricocheting around in your skull with every guided bounce on his lap.

“Aw, what’s that? Kitty wants some milk after all?”

Don’t you dare say it, you traitor. Don’t you fucking—

“Please!” you gasped in a rush, finally finding a modicum of wherewithal to speak your wishes coherently, despite not having the faintest clue as to what he was really saying. Fill you up was all you had heard, but it was enough to send your system into high alert, igniting a carnal need for more. Even stretched to your capacity, you still felt like something was missing… somewhere just beyond the gummy barrier that his tip was repeatedly mashing into, as though it shared the same desire as you. It felt empty there – so very, very empty.

“Look at you, asking so nicely.” His pitch deepened, thick with cloying praise, bloodied lips spreading roguishly as another thickness of his spread you so impeccably that your eyes were on the verge of crossing. Fill us, fill us, the voices hymned in unison – so loud they were that it no longer felt like they were confined to your mind, instead floating freely amongst the space around you. “Well, whatever my sweet pet wants… she gets.”

Keigo’s hips snapped upward, meeting you halfway between jerking yours down. The veins webbing through his arms were prominent from strain, moreso of refraining from utilizing the strength to slam you onto his engorged length with enough force to shatter your pelvis, rather than overuse. A few cuts and bruises were unavoidable, but he couldn’t afford to completely break another toy. Although, that was somewhat part of the charm of you humans, he thought adoringly – the fragility of your supple, ephemeral forms. For what made a flower so lovely, if not how fleeting and feeble the season of its life was?

And yet – with the utter decadence that was you, that was the downright celestial embrace of your homely little cunt – Keigo found himself strangely at odds with the realization that, eventually, you too would wither and fade with time. How curious, considering out of his many companions, and knowing you for all of an hour, he feels so entirely resistant to the idea. Like this cave, this boat, and his decidedly unjust sentence of banishment… he wants your existence to be just as indefinite.

Viscid, molten pleasure was flowing all over his organs, pooling in the funnel of his gut and amassing within the bubbling well that was his imminent climax. Seeming to sense it coming as much as he had, perhaps within the sporadic twitching of his balls or from the glaze that fogged his eyes over, you surrendered yourself wholly to his control, body going lax for his unbridled use.

Faster than even your sober mind could have comprehended, you were flipped onto your back and suspended from your lower half by Keigo’s firm, iron-gripped hold in one fell swoop. It took more than a few seconds for your eyes to catch up and adjust, practically rolling around in their sockets from the jarringly speedy change of perspective, and from being rutted into like you were a damned closed fist. All the while, Keigo helped himself to your exquisitely messy heat, slamming into you with the sole intent to releasing the brimming load that had his cock fit to fucking burst.

Cool gusts of air caressed your overheated figure, alleviating a portion of the dizzying feverishness that prevented you from reclaiming your bearings. You blinked slowly, bleary gaze following the slanted line of your rocking body to the one that was pummeling into it, somehow becoming mesmerized with the sight of his lean physique rippling and rolling over the spectacle of those grand wings beating synchronically with his thrusts.

Clutching your hips tighter, Keigo pulled you onto him with such an aggressive urgency that the sound of his thighs clapping against your ass was practically wince inducing.

“…Gonna pamper this cunt every fucking day, for the rest of your sad little life,” he rambled gruffly, sweat-damp hair falling from its sweptback style as his head canted forward. He stared vacantly at the sloppy intermingling of your sexes, at the foamy slathering of your combined fluids that covered his cock, appearing with a fresh coating at each frantic withdrawal from your pussy. Sucking in a shaky breath, he hissed harshly at the sight, “B-Breed you over and over... keep you all—unh—swollen an’ tender…”

“Oh, oh fuck—” As if those incorrigible vows alone were the key to releasing the floodgates, he panted and shuddered, wings nearly touching the ceiling as they shot out behind him. He threw his head back within the same motion, mouth ajar as he legitimately whined, too consumed in the sensation of his release jetting from his tip in fat spurts to even care.

You instantly fell apart at the seams, a chain reaction triggered from his own concentrated lust flooding your insides, from the tangible pressure of it spraying against your cervix almost endlessly. Pure rapture radiated down to the marrow in your bones, cracking open to the very nucleus of your cells. You did not just feel born anew – you felt reincarnated, baptized and reshaped in the incinerated remains of the woman you had once been. Unsullied no longer, and unbound nevermore.

You looked upon the world with new eyes, vision overturned from being raised so vertically by your spread legs that only your head remained cushioned by soft bedding. A plaintive, exhausted sound left you, too many visuals and feelings that you couldn’t yet fathom bombarding your senses.

“Mine…” A masculine voice whispered above you, brushing its warmth up your body while apologetic hands lowered you gingerly, returning your listless form to a horizontal position. Rubbing fondly over the slight distension of your achingly stuffed belly. The voice’s owner followed you closely, ensuring you remained glued together by your sticky cores as they settled on top of you, acting as a shield from any dangers or distractions.

Perception finally clarifying, you gazed at the being who was buried within you, branding their hushed declarations of ownership onto your skin while petting your shivering frame with a soothing gentleness.

Beautiful, was the first word to come to mind, the first coherent thought you could gather. This had to have been the afterlife, because such unequivocal divinity could not rightfully exist wherever you had come from. What, you wondered, could you have possibly done in your previous life to earn such holy company?

Perceiving the sparse illumination bending around his head as a halo, rather than an abstract reflection from the crystalline fixture looming over him, you questioned with sincere softness, “Are you an angel?”

"…No," he declined through a benign smile, despite the seraphic appendages that stretched behind him, seeming to absorb the final wisps of light that bled through the gaps of his feathers as the cloak of night finally descended upon the two of you.

ㅤ

“I am your God.”

ㅤ

Two hours after sundown…

ㅤ

“C-Captain?”

Large fingers clutching the neck of an equally sizable bottle of rum froze midair, pausing their pursuit of tipping its contents into their disgruntled owner’s mouth. The man in question placed the glass container on his desk with a heavy thump, annoyance visible on his rugged features as he directed that frosty stare at the one who was intruding upon his private time. Of course, it was one of the newer recruits; the others knew better than to just barge in when something required his attention. He may be a pirate, but he prides himself on having at least basic manners.

“What?” His tone was harsh, snapping like a bullwhip. He’s had a really fucking long day, so this runt had better get to the point quick or he would be given a proper reason to shiver in his boots.

The young crewmate hovering in his doorway was soaked head to toe, dripping wet from toiling away on the main deck amidst the tempest that was raging outside, battering loudly against his windows. He looked like he was one skipped meal from being carried off by a gentle breeze, so it was something of a wonder that he’d been holding his own in all that turbulent chaos, the captain will give him that.

“It—It's him, sir. He's here."

Ah, so that’s why he looked as though he had seen a ghost. Looks like the others hadn’t clued him in on their expected guest of the evening until it was a little too late – poor sap evidently had the scare of his life just a moment prior.

“…Send him in.”

A light, chipper voice immediately interjected from beyond the cracked door, “No need! I can see myself in, thanks champ.”

The scrawny youth didn’t waste a second in making himself scarce, vanishing on hurried footsteps as a taller, winged figure slipped through the vacant entryway.

“Boy,” the blonde newcomer whistled, flicking the droplets that clung to his feathers while running a hand through his drenched mane, slicking a few errant pieces back into place. “It’s really comin’ down out there, huh?”

If looks could kill, he would have keeled over onto the floor right about now.

“It's about damn time you showed up, Hawks.” The captain’s gaze was bone chilling, rife with contempt despite the familiarity of which he spoke that name. “My men and I have been sitting on our asses in this fucking storm while you've been getting your cock wet."

Having the audacity to rub the back of his neck in a sheepish display, Keigo chuckled lightheartedly, “Sorry-sorry. I admit I, uh, got a tad carried away… lost track of time.”

“To say the least,” the captain muttered dryly, rolling those pale eyes as he clambered onto his feet, rounding his desk to regard the shorter male properly. Despite his significant disadvantage in height, Keigo didn’t seem the least bit intimidated, looking up at the behemoth of a man with a lazy, carefree smile. "I take it your new pet is to your liking?"

“Oh, she's a delight.” Flickering candlelight cought in his irises, giving them a mirror-like shine. Contrasting with that eerie sheen in his stare, he sighed like a love-struck maiden, “Really made me work for it, too. You’ve outdone yourself this time, my friend. Where did you find such a delectable thing?”

“On my ship, of all places,” the captain scoffed, crossing his burly forearms, “foolish girl thought she could hide in the bilge. Perhaps she was seeking unpaid passage to another capital – she refused to say. I didn’t give a damn to interrogate her on the matter; who she was and what she was after makes no difference to me, as long as my pockets are getting filled.” He spoke in a clipped tone, clearly unable to care less about the topic.

“Ahh, so that’s what she meant by ‘sticking her nose where it didn’t belong’. My,” Keigo snickered, shaking his head before glancing at the rattling windows – at the stygian darkness that lied beyond them – with a smirk, “what rotten luck, thrust from one cage to another...”

The larger man sighed loudly, visibly running out of patience. This siren has always been unbearably chatty. “Are we done here? I would like my payment as we agreed upon, and to get away from that shit-hole rock you call home before my boat sinks.”

“Aw, don’t act like such a stranger, old friend. I always make these trips worth your while, don’t I?” In spite of his petulant expression, the blonde procured a hefty pouch seemingly out of thin air, filling the cramped cabin with the sound of jingling coins as he tossed it upward in idle repetition.

“It’s the only reason why I tolerate your presence as much as I do, friend,” the blue-eyed man sneered, his mounting ire very nearly emerging as puffing smoke from his flared nostrils. Years of dealing with this irksome pigeon granted him the willpower to not act on the impulse of snatching that sack of leather out of the air like a petty child. "And do try your best to make her last longer than the previous one. I'm not getting any younger, and these little excursions are beginning to become more trouble than they're worth.”

Keigo grinned, sharp canines amongst a perfect set of incisors gleaming in the dim light, “Don’t worry – I intend to make her last.”

“…Shame your kind has such a limited time on this earth, though,” he adds on an afterthought, catching the pouch a final time before rotating and squeezing it with his clawed digits, scrutinizing the captain like one would an ant – with a detached fascination. “I doubt I’ll find one as lovely as her after she goes, nor such an effective errand boy like you for a good long while...”

“Tch.” The captain’s upper lip curled, distaste written across his grizzled visage. Any lesser man regarding him in such a manner would’ve had their neck snapped before that sentence was through. The demon known as Hawks was a necessary exception, unfortunately; he could sniff malicious intent the moment of its manifestation, and punish it in kind in the same breath. “I always forget your true age with that mug of yours.”

Preening with a blatant narcissism that could only be earned through decades upon decades of successfully exploiting it for his own benefit, Keigo bellows out a musical laugh, “It certainly is a face to be envious of, isn’t it? Done me a lot of favors over the years, it has.”

Exhaling wearily, the captain extends an arm, palm upturned in expectation. “Just give me my money already.”

“Struck a nerve, did I? Alright, alright—” A flick of his wrist sent the pouch sailing through the air, landing in the other man’s hand with effortless precision. Even his heavily muscled arm sunk slightly beneath the impact of its compact weight. “Pleasure working with you, as always.”

"Likewise. Now get the hell off my ship."

His ever-present smile the last thing that brawny male saw, Keigo saluted mockingly whilst spinning toward the exit, sashaying across the room with leisured grace.

“Aye-aye, captain.”

Returning to his seat, the captain didn’t spare a moment in dumping his spoils over the surface of his desk, intent on counting every last coin to ensure his endeavors were sufficiently recompensed. Hawks never skimped on his payments, which was admittedly one of his few respectable traits, but it was still a habit the seasoned pirate couldn’t quite break in a long life of cutthroat dealings.

“Oh, by the way…”

With a sharp inhale, he slowly looked upward, settling that withering glare on the siren lingering outside his open doorway. A pelting downpour of rain showered upon him, streams of water cascading off the angular edges of his profile, dripping off the full lashes shielding the single yellow eye directed his way.

“How's that strapping eldest of yours?” he questioned innocently, although the slyness that clung to his words conveyed their real intent quite clearly. “Touya, was it? He ever consider taking after the... family business?”

The captain’s steely features did not betray his emotions, but his terse dismissal might as well have been transparent as glass.

“Goodbye, Hawks.”

Huffing in amusement, Keigo turned that prying stare away without further inquiry. Blackened skies flashed and flickered, illuminating his turning form, the vibrant shade of those scarlet plumes, and the area around him long before the deafening roar of thunder arrived. Considering the conversation officially concluded, the captain’s gaze returned to the pile of gold strewn out before him, but that smooth voice beckoned for his attention a final time.

“So long, Enji.”

Yet, when he had glanced up in irritation, his sight was met with an empty doorway.

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #keigo takami smut #hawks smut #tw: noncon #kei <3 #owtw collab #writing.cr

912 notes · View notes

weaselbeaselpants · 4 months

Text

For those curious, I don't got dirt or shit on VivziePop. As I've made clear before I followed her back in 2009 and I talked to her like on devintart and tumblr 1 or 2 times. No, I don't remember what was said between us really or exactly. The tumblr blog I remember hearing back from her is long dead so I have no receipts.

I kinda lost interest in her because her fanbase was way too intense and mean in 2014 (no idea about any of the Dollcreep drama), and because I was also in a soft antisjw phase myself then and reading BadWebcomicsWiki - I saw her being talked about all throughout the forums on that hellsite up and until 2017. I also saw the completely different forum posts made there about Hazbin at the time- which os of course how I learned about the Dollcreep fiasco, frootrollup1, and Angel Dust r@pe art someone did of Viv.

If you interested and/or curious about any personal anecdotes I can remember from the best of memory -these are NOT facts, though I'm happy if anyone else can back them up if u also have memories of this- I can list those out:

-I found Viv through her fanart first and specifically her fanart of Shane Acker's 9. I loved Viv's fanart- it was always so distinct in her own style but still recognizable. Anyone else in the 9 fandom remember that "design a beast" contest deviantart had? Yeah she took place in that. She also did artwork of the stitchpunks inspired by Kinkei's chibi-pinup style. They were not as sexy as that would have you believe. She did fanart for Rango, Adventure Time, Regular Show, Rio, and Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. Also remember her begrudgingly liking Tangled after the fact because it wasn't 2D like Princess and the Frog was.

-The first time I saw Viv's characters in comic form it was in a comic where it was Halloween and the ZP gang (Zill, Kayla, Jack, Spam, and Vanex) were trick or treating and got stuck in some dark twisted version of their home. Isn't this the plot to the Invader Zim Halloween episode?

-Ickle!Viv was pretty skilled at drawing animals. Personally I think she still is but this was specifically the thing which stood out about her to me. I really love when she drew/draws animals. I also actually think her creatures look genuinely good, especially the dragon looking ones.

-Viv was ALWAYS so clamoring and adoring of her fandoms, especially animated stuff. Even on deviantart, animation fans are cynical and snarky so it was nice to see someone with their own established style be into movies that other people would mock you for as a teenager or god forbid an adult. Didn't make you feel so alone.

-I saw Viv's ZP gang develop in style from 2009-2013 and I gotta say I liked her og cast so much more when they were teenytiny and children. Zill just looked better then.

-Speaking of Zill, before I saw one of her posts getting mad at people who called Zill a "neopet"...I said her style reminded me of neopets. I was 12! I didn't know and also I hadn't gotten to that one doodle in her gallery at the time where Zill and 2009!Viv were cursing out this blob for calling him that.

-I also personally saw Alastor develop from out of those days, or at least the character who would become Alastor. It was the red black, buck-looking deer from 2006-2008ish who's disc Viv said was "the evilest character in all of zoophobia!!" I know she liked the directtovideo disney sequels and really liked Bambi II. I'm not convinced Alastor and Autumn don't exist souley because of Bambi II.

-I have no proof of it happening on my end because I ended up deleting a shit ton of crap on my old deviantart out of embarrassment and I think Viv deleted her posts about it. But a distinctly remember an artist in around 2011/2012 w I was really into art trades did a trade with me where they drew my 9 oc, in spite of us really not connecting in any particular way or being 'close'. They worked in traditional medium and had he/him pronouns and their art was so obviously inspired from Viv's. It wasn't traced, though- just very Viv-inspired.

I remember watching Viv and also that guy when suddenly Viv and Faustisee made a huge callout graph showing the artstyle and characters that had been stolen from her and she showed that guy's work. I also distinctly remember saying in Viv's journal abt the callout something along the lines of "this is bad, but, this guy is a friend of mine [rlly barely mutuals], he didn't mean it". To which Viv replied with something like: "then tell ur friend that what he's doing is bad >:c". So I did and that's when he told me he'd been told enough by her base how to feel and that he was leaving dA. And he left. and nuked his entire gallery, including his part of art trade, which made finding the proof of this encounter even harder to track down. Because he was no longer there, I deleted the piece I did for him as part of my mass embarrassment deletion.

-There was one other encounter I had personally' with Viv that I do remember and it's only because she was actually friendly to me and I liked that coming from my what was, at the time, a fav artist: I like the 2012 Frankenweenie remake and was really incensed back in the day that people weren't liking it because it is a ymmv-case. One of those people happened to be Viv and I def remember messaging her about how "I disagree with you, hmf" and then having INSTANT REGRET and suddenly spamming her with this way too personal "I'm sorry please don't hate me"-ventrant thing and, for all I know the Viv stans can be overly apologetic, I really do think it was my indiagnosed OCD/ADHD talking there. Anyway, what was sweet of her to do even in a passing way was she was all "it's okay. you didn't upset me but lol yeah ur not changing my take on frankenweenie either".

Viv describes herself as "being everyone's friend" and really- where there are a lot of points now that I don't think she cares if she is, most of the time I think the problem is she doesn't know how mean or backhanded she is. She really does strike me as the kind of person who never grew out of 2000s-2010s highschool and that petty thing were you get angry and lash out at others behind their backs but then sweet up after that, and where you think lovebombing = being genuinely appreciative. And yeah, that's still abusive and volatile. Because, and this is all from a decade ago and an antidote I only recall because it was Viv, but I truly didn't get the feeling that Viv thought I was beneath her or that she was trying to own me buy telling me she didn't like the movie I did. The vibe I got from her was "I don't really care about this but also I don't want you freaking out, calm down".

I rb a bunch of critical stuff (still don't like antiHazbin shit) because, and I still mean this, I do still genuinely like her style and wish I could be in her fandom w/o her stans basically gatekeeping me from being my own fan. I really am disappointed as the fan I am that Viv doesn't take better care of herself, her shows or the people working for her.

#vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical

26 notes · View notes

rararazaquato · 7 months

Text

Valentine, you're a

horse

(rain code pony au. design notes under the cut!)

just as a note, i haven't seen my little pony since i was like. 11. and also i don't think i watched beyond twilight becoming an alicorn. my knowledge of later seasons mostly comes from horsecomix. so if i say anything that contradicts the Horse Lore, sorry about that.

ok now for individual designs.

yuma is a unicorn, mostly because mystery labyrinths require him to be able to hold a sword and talk at the same time. in addition to his memories, he lost his cutie mark in the pact, so everyone who sees him is like "damn you're an amnesiac AND a blank flank? pick a struggle". he doesn't have any accessories by default, but he probably gets a little hat in the rain + his cape in the mystery labyrinth. he was the first pony i drew, so his face looks a little janky. i struggled with drawing the ponies from any angle other than a perfect sideview, and the snouts/mouths were the hardest parts by far. the front view i did for yuma was a bit easier than the 3/4 view i did for most of the cast, but it was still tougher than i expected. pony artists who mimic the style of the show have all of my respect.

shinigami's spirit form was changed a little bit, although it was already so abstracted compared to a real human that i didn't feel i needed to change much in order to make her fit into the pony universe. i just swapped her horns out for wings and gave her a horn. i also removed her thumbs and made her colors closer to her human (er, pony) form. she's no longer a "death god" in the traditional sense, now being the "princess of death" in the same way twilight is the princess of friendship or cadence is the princess of love. she was sealed away because she was shit at her job (just killed a fuckton of people for no reason) but anypony who stumbled across the book she was sealed in can make a contract w her just like in rain code canon. obvi this is a little dark for the actual mlp universe, they wouldn't be putting a trigger-happy murder princess in their rated y cartoon, but this is the same fanbase that made fuckin. cupcakes and rainbow factory and a whole slew of others that make the main characters of mlp infinitely more fucked up than canon shinigami ever was. so i feel like we can have a little suspension of disbelief here.

shinigami's true form is an alicorn, obvi. she's a god princess, she's gonna be an alicorn. i tried to refrain from giving the characters too many accessories to better mimic the simpler mane 6 designs, but shinigami looked so naked with just the crown. so she also got her flower and little necklace. i didn't even attempt to put her hair in braids, since drawing her face at that angle was such a challenge already. upon posting this, i also realize i forgot to give her a tail. just imagine any tail you want on her. pin the tail on the shinigami. her cutie mark has the same dark void effect as nightmare moon's, although i can't remember if luna also has it as well. regardless, it's a visual tie-in to nightmare moon, who has a similar "princess banished to an inanimate object" thing going on. the actual cutie mark itself is two bones, representing death in a cutesy cartoony fashion. i was gonna do a skull and crossbones but then i realized. no one knows what a human skull looks like. there's no people. and i am NOT about to draw a fucking horse skull. so, bones it is.

yakou is probably the one i'm proudest of! i feel like i really captured the essence of the background pony in him. i feel like i could see him hanging out with lyra heartstrings and dr. whooves and i wouldn't bat an eyelash. his hair is a little longer than in the original design but i think it looks cute so it's fine. his cutie mark is an umbrella because his calling as a detective leads him to protect others like an umbrella protects you from the rain, plus kanai ward has its whole Thing. and he can be kind of a gloomy person at times, very pessimistic. he's an earth pony because he's just a normal guy, no forte in canon and stuff like that.

makoto was probably the trickiest to actually design. the element of mystery is super important in the original character design, but he was able to still have some skin exposed since almost all of the character designs in that game have a skintone of "homestuck white". in mlp, where coat colors can be any color of the rainbow (and the colors outside of the rainbow), makoto would lose that element of mystery. so, while i generally try to avoid putting the ponies in clothes, makoto kind of needed them. he's got his full suit and a set of gloves and white shoes for his hooves. instead of being a sort of "paper plate" mask, he's got a rubber halloween mask that extends past his neck instead. don't ask how the mane comes out of the mask. we don't ask how canon makoto's mask stays on with no straps, so don't ask about this one. the mask goes over his horn, so it blocks out most powerful magic, but basic spells like levitation are still possible with a bit of effort. the pants of his suit hide his cutie mark, and when asked about what it is, he gives a different answer each time.

kurumi isn't a super complicated or in-depth design. just a cute lil earth pony with a cutie mark of a speech bubble, since she does a lot of information gathering via talking to others. in hindsight, i should've given her freckles in the same color as her body outline. imagine she has freckles please. thank you.

fubuki is the design where i actually got the courage to attempt a braid. no idea if it looks good, i didn't use a reference and my hair is too short to braid it myself. i wanted an earth pony in the core group of nda members, and i was sort of torn between her and desuhiko. however, i'm a personal believer in the "all ponies can use magic on some level" theory, and that theory posits that earth ponies have a tendency to be able to use the intrinsic magic of their planet in subtle ways. applejack can enhance her physical strength without really doing anything consciously, and most importantly, pinkie pie can bend the laws of reality for The Bit. i think time travel is kinda like bending the laws of reality for The Bit. plus, desuhiko's disguise ability is kinda like an illusion, which feels like more of a unicorn ability. her cutie mark is a clock. because. uh. you know.

desuhiko is a unicorn for reasons i mentioned in fubuki's notes. his backpack is worn like a saddle, but he can still use it to disguise himself like in rain code canon. his cutie mark is the bag with a star on it, hinting that there's a superstar (him) in the bag. not much to say about him other than that.

vivia is a pegasus. since his forte allows him to fly, it makes sense for him to be able to fly in his base form as well - he'd get used to the flight powers inherent to his ability a lot quicker if he could already do it. he's definitely more of a fluttershy than a rainbow dash in terms of how he uses his ability to fly. he prefers to walk, but if his legs get tired, he'll switch to flying for a little bit. but then both his legs and his wings get tired and he takes a little nap. that's what the pose is meant to be, altho it does look a bit like he's flying. his cutie mark is a disappearing flash shape, as his spirit form is invisible and he tends to disappear into the background in general. someone in the rain coat server told me he looks like stoney pony and i haven't been able to get that out of my mind.

halara was the last pony i drew, because i love them and wanted to get as much pony-drawing experience as i could before turning them into an equine. can't have my pookie bear looking like shit! they are also a pegasus, but not for forte reasons like vivia. rather, they just do impressive feats of athleticism on the reg, and i feel like they would be a great flyer as a result. imagine the scene where yuma calls for help while being detained by seth and the peacekeepers. a blue and purple bursts onto the scene from the fucking clouds and halara is divebombing the peacekeepers. that'd be sick as fuck. their cutie mark is an eye, because postcognition is all about sight.

erm ok thats everyone!!! i'm bad at pony names so if anyone has any ideas leave them in the comments or the tags ☺️

#rain code #mdarc #yuma kokohead #halara nightmare #vivia twilight #desuhiko thunderbolt #yakou furio #fubuki clockford #kurumi wendy #makoto kagutsuchi #shinigami rain code #my little pony #mlp

40 notes · View notes

abbatoirablaze · 1 month

Text

Surrogate Luna, Chapter 20

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of nudity/sexual tension.

“Omega.”

She turned, her body instantly tensing and releasing a scent that drew a low growl from the alpha who had woken in her attempt to leave quietly. The white wolf had disappeared, and in his place was a man with olive skin and piercing silver eyes. She found herself wanting to crawl back against him, and let him devour her all over again.

He growled once more when he smelled the arousal pooling between her legs.

“What’re you doing up?” he asked, propping himself on the prosthetic arm.

Cinna tried to stop her eyes from wandering down to the half-hardened appendage that she’d spent the night howling on, but instead focused on the metallic arm. His eyes watched her curiously, searching hers for the same emotions he’d felt.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, finally forcing herself to look away as she leaned into a tree to shield her vision from the alpha, “i-I shouldn’t-“

“Don’t apologize little wolf,” he said softly, “I don’t mind if you look at me…we did far more than look at each other last night.”

A blush crept up onto her cheeks and she turned back to him, “I-I don’t even know your name.”

“You don’t have to know my name for me to know that we are mates,” he chuckled. Her eyes snapped to his, and he shook his head, “what? Can’t you feel it?”

She tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. The feelings that had come up felt all too much like the ones she’d had for Steve.

“I-I have a mate…” He frowned and she instinctively mirrored his actions, “I’m sorry. I-“

“Did you and him not work out?” he asked, “Because most omegas won’t betray their true mate by sleeping with someone else.”

“I-it’s complicated,” she admitted, “w-we aren’t together though…no…”

His frown deepened and he sat up. Propping his arms on his legs he stared at her, “you don’t need to be ashamed, omega.”

“W-who said I was ashamed?”

“I can see it in your eyes,” he pointed out, “there’s a sadness in you…my wolf saw and recognized it as the same kind I carry. When I found my mate, my first mate, I thought nothing would tear us apart. But fate has a funny way of making sure that you do what she wants in her time.”

Cinna took a step forward, and sat down beside him, “I-I’m sorry. What was her name?”

“My mate was a man,” he sighed, shaking his head at her, “another alpha.”

Cinna felt queasy.

Her stomach turned.

Of course she slept with a wolf whose mate is a man.

Because falling in love with Steve and having her and her pup ripped from her wasn’t enough of a sick joke from the fates.

“Oh…”

He smirked, seeing the uneasiness in her features, “I go both ways, little wolf. Don’t give me that look. I didn’t just sleep with you because of our kinds treatment of same sex, same designation relationships.”

“I-I didn’t-“

“I know that it’s not accepted for alphas to mate with other alphas, let alone two males,” he replied, “but it wasn’t a power play. He and I loved one another.”

“Wh-what happened?” she probed, “was he killed?”

“That’s a story for another day, little mate,” he smiled sadly, reaching out to stroke her cheek. Instinctively, she reacted, leaning into his hand and he gave her a gentle smile, “do you know how rare it is for a wolf to have two mates? I have an alpha and an omega in you and him.”

“Y-you must be mistaken,” she muttered, shaking her head, “I-I should go. I’m sorry about last night. I-“

“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as she tried to leave. His hand reached out and he held her by the wrist, “I haven’t seen you…and you smell…familiar…”

“I should go,” she repeated, pulling her arm from his grasp, “I’m sorry.”

“My name’s Bucky!” he said quickly, shooting up so that he was standing as she started back towards the packhouse, “Alpha of the Barnes pack. I-“

“Please, alpha Bucky. I-I’m not interested in-“

“In what?” he asked, stopping her once more as he turned her back to face him, “what happened last night…th-that’s not something that can be faked, omega! That type of bond, that type of connection only happens between true mates. Is this you rejecting me outright?”

“Bucky-“

“What pack are you from?” he asked quickly, “Wh-what’s your name? At least tell me that!”

“Cinna,” she whimpered, wanting nothing more than to hear his response to her name. Sure enough, a rumble drew itself from the back of his throat and she found her thighs clenching together once more. He drew himself against her frame and walked her back until she felt the bark of a tree behind herself, “Bucky….please.”

His nostrils flared, and his jaw twitched, along with the large appendage now prodding her hip, “Omega….say my name again…”

“B-Bucky…” He growled, and shivers ran up her spine, goosebumps appearing across her collarbone and arms, “alpha…”

“I know you can feel what I’m feeling, omega.”

Her throat felt like it was going dry and the words froze in her throat, so she nodded, “I feel it, but-“

“But what?” he asked, “I thought that when my mate left me all alone, after everything that I’d done for us, that I was doomed to wander without the love of a mate…with a giant hole in my heart…like a piece of my soul was missing. But last night when I saw you. When my wolf saw yours, that hole disappeared. Omega, I can tell. You’re that missing piece of me. And I don’t want to let that go.”

“I have pups with my mate,” she sighed, eyes meeting his, “I was a surrogate luna and-“

“I don’t care about your past, omega,” he growled. His hand found her hip and she whimpered yet again, “I care about you. About me. About this fire that I feel between us. And I’ll do whatever is needed to make it work. You can take the lead and we can move at whatever pace you feel comfortable with…but I don’t want to lose you. I just found you!”

“D-don’t you have someone in your pac-“

“No,” he said quickly, cutting her off, “I refused to take an omega. Refused to create an heir for my pack, because I knew that I’d find someone…deep down, my soul must have known that the fates had made you for me, because I could never bring myself to sign up for that stupid surrogate luna program. I wanted to wait…for you. And now that I’ve found you-“

“I can’t be your omega, Bucky,” she said quickly, shaking her head, “I-the alpha I thought was my mate put me through hell…I barely made it out alive and I’m not going to jump back into anything, even if the fates are giving me another shot…I-I can’t do that to my pups. I can’t do th-“

“Then I’ll wait for you,” he promised, “I’ll wait for you, and look after you. I’ll ally myself with whichever pack you have refuge with, just tell me that I can see you again.”

She nodded, tears pricking at her eyes from the intensity she felt wafting off of him. His scent had wrapped around her, making her feel like she was in a cocoon of safety with a man she’d barely known.

She’d felt safer with this alpha in just a night of knowing him than she ever felt with Steve. Part of her knew deep down that everything he promised he would follow through on.

He would let her take the lead.

He would do whatever she said.

The desperation in his eyes was desperation that she felt in her very core.

“Say it!” he begged softly, “Say that I can see you again, omega.”

“Bucky, I-“

“Please…”

“My sister is Pepper Potts. She is Tony Stark’s luna,” she all but whispered, “and I am Cinna Potts. I found refuge in their pack.”

Bucky nodded and pressed a firm kiss to her lips. His body pressed against hers, his scent wrapping around her in such a way that she knew he was scent marking her so that others would know she was under his protection, regardless of the pack she stayed with.

When he pulled away, he scent marked her throat, rubbing his cheek against her.

“Bucky…”

“I made a promise to you, omega,” he said in a husky voice as he backed up ever so slightly so that she had enough room to breathe, “I will look after and protect you until you are ready…you are my mate…my pack’s future luna…and this is my oath. My soul is yours to do with as you please. I’ll wait until you’re ready, Cinna Potts.”

Chapter 21

Tag List: @lohnes16, @prokey16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72, @mrsevans90

#surrogate luna #marvel #marvel au #the avengers #a/b/o fanfic #a/b/o fic #a/b/o #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky #sebastian stan character #james buchanan barnes #falcon and the winter soldier #the winter soldier

17 notes · View notes

apotelesmaa · 3 months

Note

HELLO .WAIT. do you have more thoughts on wxs soul eater au i never considered combining the two even thiugh i am off the walls crazy about the,m

Oh I have. So many thoughts. You asking abt it even made me get up off my ass and draw again. Putting everything under the cut to avoid having a mile long post.

When I first had the idea I really struggled on who was a weapon/meister but after deciding on wanting to pair ruikasa/emunene up I was like tsukasa and emu need to be the meisters bc 1) it fits with them being the founding duo of wxs 2) I really wanted nene to be a gun 3) fitting tsukasa’s goals into the SE universe worked better if he was a meister. I elected to make rui a whip first and then I realized I could fit a bloodborne reference in there and reference becoming potatoes with the cane. I’m not entirely satisfied w the first pass at designs for the universe (not super close to the SE aesthetic, I cannot draw guns, I’m not very good at character design, etc) but i kind of tried to pull inspiration from:

- tsukasa and emu’s happy Phoenix costumes (split colors on tsukasa’s coat, tsukasa’s boots, the corset/bell sleeves/little cape thingie for emu)

- for tsukasa specifically: piano (b&w colors and stupid long coat tails), his second wxs costume

- emu: bc I drew her last and it was getting late I did less searching and more winging it but I did try to combine the style of her wxs costumes (shoes, dress, striped socks) & general darker Lolita (for lack of a better word) fashion.

- nene: her gaming event card (weird energy ball device thing? Which I would imagine functions similar to dtk’s shooting soul wave lengths thru the thompsons)

- rui: his ugly ass coat (fond) he wears as his first wxs costume. Also becoming potatoes cane handle thing. Him being a trick weapon (bloodborne term, essentially a weapon that can switch between two forms) also kind of lines up w him being a tech genius.

Ok done talking abt the designs onto the in universe stuff

- not basing any au story off the soul eater plot bc it didn’t work out very well (too many pjsk characters) (going with the main story wxs plot w a soul eater spin. Kinda. Gonna have to think abt that a bit.) but if I did mafuyu > crona, miku & the kagamines > dtk and the thompsons. Would that make cfm lord death. Emu would fill a similar role to maka with mafuyu in that situation but in general (besides the surface level similarities btwn tsukasa and black star) nene is too different from soul, emu is way too different from maka, and rui is literally NOTHING like tsubaki so I can’t justify just swapping out emunene/tsukasa with soul&maka/black star&tsubaki. No equivalent to that fucking cat in this universe. & the pjsk characters get to wear clothes when they’re in the weird place weapons’s bodies go when they’re transformed.

- idk maybe the regular soul eater plot is happening/will happen/has happened but this is the Japan branch (oceania branch in canon?).

- vocaloids are professors (not the kagamines. Forever babies.) but if there needs to be a lord death equivalent making that miku would be so funny. Also the normal vocaloid personalities and not the WXS ones for conveniences sake. Uhhh first thoughts for M/W would be meister miku, weapon meiko, meister kaito, luka can go either way tbh, kagamines are both weapons but are each other’s meister.

- similar to how rui did shows on his own for a really long time I think he was his own meister for a while (like Justin Law was). He doesn’t have many souls bc dwma in this universe at least pretends to give a fuck abt student safety so they don’t want to send him out alone on anything dangerous (despite his talent) and he can’t resonate soul wave lengths with most ppl bc they don’t get him. He ended up giving up on finding a meister when he was younger bc of this & just worked really hard on his own. He experiences a similar isolation from his peers that dtk did (ppl find him intimidating/envy at his skill/etc).

- equivalent of him transferring in to kamikou (? Spelling) second year is the kamishiros spending ~10 years in America. He’s still childhood friends w nene he just moved away after they drifted apart and then came back. Mizuki probably did something similar just 2 keep the mizuki & rui connection still there.

- tsukasa’s SE universe goal is to be the best meister - he wants to protect & help people (inspired by saki. I’ll get to that) but the equivalent of tsukasa forgetting he wanted to make ppl smile & believing he just wanted fame would be tsukasa believing he wants to be the best meister for fame/power.

- saki’s chronic illness is a result of black blood due to an incident w a kishin egg monster when she was younger. I think she would be a weapon but along with the canon typical chronic illness symptoms (not erasing those) she struggles for a long time w controlling her ability to change in and out of weapon form. Tsukasa & her *could* have been a m/w pair & have compatible soul wave lengths but 1) he’s overprotective and I think he realized he would not be able to fight without being too scared of getting her hurt 2) saki’s illness means she can’t really enroll in the dwma (yet. She gets there eventually.)

- nene was in the not classes before the plot picks up bc she didn’t think she had what it took to be a weapon. In universe equivalent to her forgetting her lines would maybe be freezing when she was supposed to transform during an important test when she was younger? Not baby age like in canon (bc I know the DWMA likes child soldiers but 7ish is a bit much even for them) but old enough to be taking classes & old enough to be put into not classes as a result. Im not reading SE NOT! to understand how those classes work though so thank god she gets out of those classes

- nene *is* a really powerful weapon she just lacks the confidence and struggles to resonate with people (& unlike rui she can’t wield herself)

- on that note emu can resonate with just about anyone but she hasn’t found anyone that felt right yet, and Tsukasa needs someone who can keep up w the intensity of his soul wave length and hasn’t found anyone who can do that yet.

- ^ similar to tsukasa being a piano prodigy or whatever in canon tsukasa *is* a really good meister, he just needs a really good weapon. Bc his peers would need more training to get to that level

- I toyed with making emu dtk adjacent (daughter of death) (bc PXL -> DWMA) but that would be too complicated with her brothers/dad/grandpa so I disregarded it. Maybe I’ll come back to it. I think it would make more sense for emu to come from a long line of really talented meisters so she grew up training for the job and running around the dwma.

- emu approaches tsukasa and is like we should work together!!! We’ll do better on missions and be able to take down harder kishin & maybe witches!! & he’s like sure why not every star needs a sidekick (obnoxious laugh) even though emu could kick his ass without breaking a sweat (in line with canon). & like the angel she is emu is like (ignores his pre main story dickheadedness) wonderhoy!! (Deathhoy?) okie dokie we need to find weapon partners then!! (bodily drags him to class)

- tsukasa sees rui training on his own and is like wow he’s really talented! Fitting for a future star like me! & approaches him to ask if they can pair up. Rui is like on the condition that you can find my friend a partner in your class (wants nene out of the not classes bc he thinks she’s far beyond that skill level). Emu jumps on the idea and is introduced to nene who is placed in the higher level courses to accommodate this partnership. Idc if that can’t happen in SE canon I think the Otoris have a lot of sway and any potential issues w nene being less powerful (not the case but it’s the assumption made abt not students) can be made up by emu’s skill.

- emu is instantly very taken with nene and they resonate well. I know what u are dot jpg. Rui & tsukasa can resonate but struggle to unlock their full potential (similar to soul and maka struggling with using the witch hunter form) bc tsukasa needs to realize what his real motivations are.

- tsukasa assumes nene has a low skill level at first (similar to his issues w nenerobo. God I wish I could think of a way to fit nenerobo in this au. sorry nenerobo) but is proven wrong when emu wields her.

- equivalent to the climax of the wxs main story in this is nene freezing again during an important mission and the group losing an important target -> tsukasa gets mad and yells at her -> rui fights w tsukasa over this and tells him that he’ll never be a good meister if he cares more about fame and power than people.

- tsukasa chats w the death scythe kaito & realizes the Error Of His Ways -> emu is considering dropping out bc she feels that she fucked up all of their futures as weapons/meisters by putting this into motion but tsukasa has the heart to heart with emu and they agree to continue being a team -> emu and nene partner back up -> they approach rui who has gone back to working solo and he refuses to partner back up w tsukasa

- idk what a good equivalent to the lonely alchemist show would be. Tsukasa and rui need to resonate & work together to help emunene because they’re in peril or something? & rui through the resonance realizes that tsukasa is genuine? Some sort of hand wavey plot device is used to resolve everything.

- I think that emu & rui and nene & tsukasa are also able to resonate and they do occasionally switch it up just for funsies. Emu and rui bc they just get along very well and nene & tsukasa argue with each other but can still function as a team.

- I don’t think that rui & nene can resonate because. Put down the pitchforks please. *Because* similar to their dynamic in pjsk despite their bond and their care for each other there’s a lot of baggage that needs to be worked through. Too many things left unsaid. Etc. they could probably achieve resonance later on but there’s not really a need to given that they’re both weapons and both have meisters.

- Rui thinks it’s a great training exercise to fight tsukasa “how do you expect to get better if you don’t try fighting against a weapon without a weapon… I’m just trying to help you… (fake crying)” “I’m already good at fighting without a weapon!! This is never going to be relevant knowledge anyways!!! You just want to fight me because you think it’s fun!!!!!!” “(switching manipulation tactics) Someone who wants to be a star would want to be prepared for any situation no matter how small the chance is of it happening” “hm…that’s true… ok let’s do it!!”

- cut to them in the nurses office. This is a weekly occurrence.

- emu also thinks it’s good practice to use tsukasa as moving target practice but this is less dangerous and more just continuing tsukasa’s never ending torment (he is a willing participant in said torment mind you)

- like in canon emu pulls nene out of her shell and hypes her up constantly which is huge in getting nene to have more confidence in herself and her abilities. It’s also incredibly helpful to have a meister who will never judge her for freezing and will always meet her halfway.

- also like in canon nene is very helpful with reeling emu in. She’s a very helpful voice of reason/impulse control but one that understands that even if emu’s ideas are unconventional they still have merit (even if they need to be refined a little)

- similar to the soul eater main cast having the self preservation skills of very small stupid suicidal animals hell bent on getting themselves injured or killed (Liz excluded), emu and Tsukasa are very prone to charging in to a situation w/out thinking. Tsukasa is more reasonable but unfortunately his weapon parter is not and rui usually cajoles tsukasa into doing stupid shit. Nene is suffering.

- maybe someday I’ll design rui & nene if I ever go back and refine these designs but I’m really lazy.

- not really sure how I would go around incorporating the wxs arcs into the soul eater universe with regards to PXL selling out and stuff. Making peace with the witches maybe? Something will probably come to me eventually.

- unlike atsushi ohkubo I’m not a terminally horny freak so there’s zero weird shit in this au.

- initial thoughts on the other units: minori(w)/haruka(weapon that chooses to be a meister) + airi(m)/shizuku(w), kohane(m)/an(w) + toya(weapon who was trained as a meister before deciding to be a weapon)/akito(m), mafuyu(m)/kanade(weapon… don’t make her exercise) + mizuki(w)/ena(m), leoneed swaps pairs frequently but shiho & izuka are meisters + saki and honami are weapons. Open to debate for most of these I haven’t given them much thought.

#asks #soul eater #project sekai #queueing this to not post at 4 am.#I’ll post the pics on their own on the art blog eventually. probably.

8 notes · View notes

hearts4juzi · 4 months

Note

do you have any ideas in mind for how swap!evans scrap baby design would look, assuming its different from regular scrap baby? (since yk, its implied(?) they rebuilt themself after getting kicked out of ennard)

oh and how did/do evan and circus baby interact/feel about each other?

-cross

I DREW THIS ASK TODAY AND CANNOT SHARE THE ART BC ITS. ON PAPER. AND I DONT HAVE MY PHONE

But i thought id answer anyways, ill rb with a doodle if i can manage one (maybe in my animation class?)

first of all, he'd not be half as smashed up as liz was. he wanted to be cute and whatever, and his goal is. not killing ppl lmao.

so he goes back and gets a discarded unused circus baby faceplate from the bunker. its old and the faceplates dont move well at all (rusty and stuck together, mostly) but its not horrible. its also cracked a bit but. what can you do?

instead of wires and whatever i think hed want something softer to use for hair so i gave him some sort of fucked up string. its thick and fluffy but falling appart :( poor dude he also got other discarded animatronic concepts that william and henry kept in case they wanted to use them elsewhere. evan still has the claw on one hand but the other is an unnecessarily large paw (he cant exactly remember why at this point, but he loves bears so the paw caught his eye)

his outfit is just cloathes he found in the garbage and therefore doesnt fit well. and his torso is just the usual circus baby torso if not a bit fucked up by all the time itd been left in the bunker. its also cracked and rusty similar to his mask

his feet r just whatever he could find, but those wont even be seen a lot bc hes in the vents so who cares

the big paw is also one of the same as what molten freddy dug up to replace the rubber hose esque hands ennard had (not REALLY rubber hose but meant to look the part yk?)

as for evs relationship w cbby, its complicated. he initially wants nothing to do with the animatronic or possessing it, but when he sees liz he suddenly wants to seize control (hence bouncing between circus baby and evan)

at that time, there was still a pretty clear line between evan and cbby, bc of how hed avoided her n shit in a way bc he cant. he cant leave her lmao but he just didnt try to BE her. still while SL takes place the line does blur between him and cbby.

post scoop he finds mike and tells him about elizabeth and for a while michael keeps him seperate from the other animatronics bc yk, having someone he KNEW was his sibling and who KNEW his identity helped him and michael is the most conscious of everyone. and so he once again was aware of who he was but when michael and the funtimes both dumped him they reallty merged and it became unclear who was who (which lead to his memories getting fucked wehn he was rebuilding himself) and just overall hes weird and Not Evan Anymore. especially because evan being rejected by michael compared to circus baby being abandoned by william and the funtimes and that pain of being thrown to the curb causing anger in both that ended with them having such similar ideas and feelings that they might as well be the same entity

as far as interactions go, they really didnt interact much for a VERY long time and when they did it was quick and uncomfortable. but when evan tried to wrestle control back its started a weird silent relationshi

Circus baby did not want to get rid of him, she didnt entirely know what he was ("I still hear her sometimes" yk?) other than shed killed him and sometimes shed say things she didnt think.

evan didnt like how everything was going with elizabeth, so he wanted to subtly steer her elsewhere. however, between his own bitterness at her leaving him alone and inadvertently causing his death, and circus baby and him becoming one, he eventually began leading her to the scooper.

and evan is a lot more convincing than circus baby was.

its not until he's set free that evan is actually evan again

#tzu asks #tzu rambles #swap au #evan afton #circus baby #THIS ASK HAS BEEN HERE FOR TOO LONG!!!!!#I NEED TO ANSWER IT!!!!!!!!!!#also yeah mike fucks evan over in every universe #<33

9 notes · View notes

spotinthespiral · 6 months

Text

I meant to post this like 6 hours ago but the file goofed 👀

Anyways, here's roughs of Captain Ironside and Young Jack! (As always, ramble below the cut!)

Like I said, these are rough designs for them! Ryan's only on lvl like, 36, and Young Jack is literally an npc I hyperfixated on because his plot is ridiculous. Ryan (Silent Ryan Ironside) is on the right, Young Jack on the left 👍

Refs and wip sketch:

So, lore ramble as I warned about:

Ryan has the Grizzleheim origin, and her parents were killed in a Mutiny. She's a Swashbuckler, and her First mate is consistently Subodai (horse Warrior). Ryan became a Mute after her parents were killed, and communicates with her crew solely through a complex system of tapping patterns, or simple hand signals. She's slow to trust, and is very loose with dropping people at the first sign of disloyalty, but she picks up her crew like they're each a stray sopping wet kitten. She's still a teen, so when they all joined her, they basically pulled "It takes a village to raise a kid" and the entire Crew works to boost her up as well as keep her safe.

Young Jack recap (w/o bias I hope) I'd that he's the nephew of a guy on the docks of Flotsam who went missing. You find him near the broken lighthouse, he's cursed, you hunt down the dude who made the curse and kill him. Give the head to Young Jack to keep him from getting zombified. Young Jack swears off pirating, and that's the last time he's seen.

Personal Explanation for the art above:

Ryan took the quest would really planning to follow through. She stumbled across Young Jack's trail by chance and found him injured and surrounded by undead. His old crew. She sympathized, and helped him back to his uncle, but Old Scratch and everyone else of Flotsam agreed that the boy was doomed to die of his curse by sundown. Only way was to kill this old immortal famous pirate, so Ryan did just that. She felt like she couldn't just stand down, and she killed the guy and presented it to Young Jack just before sundown.

Jack swore off pirating and retreated with his uncle back home, but I like to think Ryan kept in contact. Jack started work in the tavern, and Ryan made Flotsam her crew's go-to stop just to check in on Jack. They were friends, Ryan's first real friend, and got along swimmingly. Ryan taught him the codes and translations for her taps, and they bonded. (Currently they're still courting. Jack thinks she's just the coolest girl he's ever met, and she thinks Jack is reckless, but sweet.)

One time, I like to think just after Monquista, Ryan went to the tavern, only to get news that Jack had been kidnapped, by pirates, then the Armada. Ryan has a paralyzing fear of the Armada, but snuck away from her crew. She was trading her surrender for Jack's safe return. Ryan managed to send Jack back safe, giving herself up to Deacon in the process.

Jack, in my headcanon, has a giant slash scar across his face because of this incident. When he got back and tried to tell Ryan's crew what had happened, Subodai was furious. Subodai is basically Ryan's mentor and adoptive father, so when he heard what had happened his was in such great distress he didn't even think. He drew his sword and slashed Jack across the face without a second thought, before the crew could stop him.

Everyone ended up bannmding together to vet Ryan back in one piece, but that incident is what I think drove Jack to join Ryan's crew. If he remained away from her, he'd only be a dangerous outlier for enemies to use against her. Staying close let both of them be safer, and happier, despite how he swore off pirating not long ago.

Obviously Jack doesn't fight, he's not an npc I can pick up and take with me, so I like to think he's just kinda the housewife here. He keeps the ship and crew in order when Ryan's going onto land for extended periods of time. He also probably keeps track of Ryan's debts, favors owed, and things of that nature. Besides that though, they're just really close, and it's good that Ryan bonded with someone outside her crew for once, even if he ended up in the Crew in the end.

#p101 #pirate101 #pirate101 art #p101 oc #Silent Ryan Ironside #Young Jack #<- Always found it funny cuz Flotsam has like 3 other Jacks #and I chose to pluck the one with almost no story up fot this plot #just kinda made sense #anyways #not my best piece but I came up w/ the face-style literally like 3 days ago so it's working p well for its purposes #if nothing else the takeaway here is #Ryan is a girlboss against her will and Jack would follow her to the ends of the earth if he had to

12 notes · View notes

kittttycakes · 1 year

Note

I'm gonna go with 30. "Make me yours." because!!!! 👀👀 Reasons!

pairing: Morpheus x reader/OFC x Hob Gadling

rating: E

contents: third person POV, she/her reader/OFC, no use of Y/N, established relationship, smut (dirty talk, worshipful sex, some very light power dynamics), it’s just all irredeemable throne room smut, 1k

notes: every time I say “this is the most explicit thing I’ve written” but this time I think I really mean it

There was a note in their rooms in the palace, as if Morpheus needed a note to know where they were. There was no part of the Dreaming more inextricably linked to him than the castle itself, and the throne room was its heart. No one who he did not wish to enter could do so, now that he had returned to his full power. This hardly applied to the two of them, however, as he nearly always wished for their presence, and they came and went as they pleased throughout the palace, when they were in the Dreaming.

The writing was slapdash - Hob’s - on a piece of paper torn from what he hoped was not one of the books Lucienne watched over. In the throne room, it said, come join us when you can. He had, blessedly, no other business for the day, and was at leisure to make his way to them both.

The great arched doors were shut, the corridor surrounding it deserted, as two suits of armor stood guard outside. They parted as easily and smoothly for him as the sea might, allowing him to slip inside. The doors shuttered back into place behind him, locking out the rest of the realm, something he was immediately deeply grateful for. He would have no one else see this.

She was seated on the throne—his throne—in a robe that resembled his own, although while his was the deepest black of the night sky, hers was the softest shades of the coming dawn, and perilously open. Were he able to see more clearly, he was certain she was in a state of what could generously be described as undress, although his view was currently impeded by Hob’s kneeling form, one of her legs draped over his shoulder, his head bowed between her thighs.

Her head was tipped back against the throne, one hand tangled in Hob’s hair as she pulled him closer to her, the only sound that of her breathing—soft, hitching, occasionally shot through with a low moan—and the nearly inaudible sound of his mouth against her. Morpheus stood for a moment, taking in the sight before him and determining how to fit himself into this game, one clearly designed with him in mind.

As he stepped forward, footfalls echoing, her eyes snapped open, mouth forming a soft ‘oh’ of surprise. “Hob—oh, god—Hob,” she tried again, more insistently, the hand in his hair pulling with sharper intent than before. Hob, for his part, merely groaned against her and stayed as he was, and she arched up with a cry, his name on her lips as she came.

Hob only pulled back when Morpheus’s hand settled in his hair, tugging him back gently but insistently. He smiled up at him, charming as ever, even with his cheeks flushed and mouth slick with the evidence of her arousal.

“Is this what I was meant to join you in?” he asked mildly, moving his hand to cup Hob’s cheek, thumb brushing over his lower lip. “You appear to have already finished what you started.”

“Hardly,” she laughed, breathless, reaching out to catch his hand in hers. She brought it to her lips as she sat up, robe spilling open around her. “We’re just getting started.” She drew his hand down, down, until she could guide it between her thighs with a soft gasp, sensitive to even the lightest touch.

He brushed his fingertips over her, watching her face, as she closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. Hob leaned back on his hands, content to watch the two of them.

“You would dare, in this throne room, on my throne, in the very heart of my realm?” he asked, no real anger behind his words, as he slid first one and then two fingers into her, her hand now grasping the arm of the throne, head tipped back. “Is this how you would claim it as your own, when everything in this room is mine by right?”

“Then make me yours, too,” she said with a soft moan, arching up against his hand.

“You were so commanding a moment ago, every inch the queen. Where is that now, your grace?” It was the tone of his voice that did it, surprisingly gentle, teasing, but so resonant she imagined she could feel it down to her bones.

“Please—I’ll beg if you want me to.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

It wasn’t fair, the way Morpheus could shape every piece of the Dreaming to his will. She hardly had a chance to blink or to register movement at all before she found herself in his lap, thighs spread wide, her back to his chest as he sat back against the throne. His hands framed her waist, holding her still.

She could not see what gesture he may have made behind her, but then Hob was in front of her, kneeling up to kiss her slowly. He still tasted like her, and she moaned softly against his lips. She nearly cried out when she felt the first press of Morpheus against her, his hands guiding her down on him until she was flush against him, her breathing uneven, still slightly over sensitive.

“Was this what you had planned?” he asked, and she shuddered, his breath warm against her skin. “Taking me, in front of an audience of one? Letting Hob see just how well you welcome me inside of you? Showing him exactly how much and in how many ways you are my own, as I am yours?”

She found it in herself to nod, even as Hob continued to kiss her. He made his way down her neck, stubble catching against her skin, causing her to shift slightly, the sensation a perfect counterpoint to every point of contact she shared with Morpheus.

“Then by all means, beloved. Go on.”

She wanted rather badly to break that cool exterior, to hear his breath hitch, to feel him slowly loosen some of the control he held on to so tightly. Hob shifted back once more, eyes dark as he settled to watch them, content in the knowledge that he would not be left wanting.

She braced her hands against the arms of the throne, and began to move slowly, head falling back as a low moan escaped her lips. They had all the time in the world. She could pry apart that iron control of his, make him hers as much as she was his, and still have time to draw Hob back in, to fit him to her like a matched set, safe and wanted between the two of them.

#dream of the endless x oc x hob gadling #dream of the endless x reader x hob gadling #morpheus x oc x hob gadling #morpheus x reader x hob gadling #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x oc #morpheus x oc #I am too red in the face to read this through even one more time so here we go!#listen someday I will write something other than hob on his knees it just isn’t today

60 notes · View notes

sems-diarie · 10 months

Note

"The tension" girl that's just how cooks act. We all act like we're gonna fuck but obviously we can't bc we work together but we WILL do everything except that. Would we be perfect as a couple? Yeah probably. Unfortunately dinner service must Go On and we can't focus on anything but how far behind pantry is on closing.

But tbh the type of relationships that come out of kitchens are so intense and close but so completely devoid of any romantic experiences because truly we see one another at our absolute worst and our absolute best and the closest well get is having a shifter and joking about how terrible that service went. Ever cook is immediately bonded by how terribly we're treated and how awful we feel all the time and how great it feels to be out of the kitchen after closing is done and the floors are scrubbed and the salamander is finally cleaned out after putting it off for so long. Every man I've dated who isn't in the industry is IMMEDIATELY and IMMENSELY jealous of the relationships I have with the men in the kitchen bc they all think we want to fuck, but truly they are like brothers to me.

It's so poetic to watch as someone in that type of dynamic and to see people not in the industry pine so desperately for romantic relationships makes me LAUGH. I'm sorry but we're all too damaged for that bestie. No one in this industry is in it because we're capable of healthy relationships. Neways. Sorry. We're all just whores by design and we love the idea of being sluts but we're all too exhausted for it. The closest to romantic we get is bumming a cig after service in the alleyway.

“we’re all sluts but we’re too exhausted” made me giggle ngl. um strap in, this got long

i don’t think sydney wants to be a slut. there’s really nothing in her character to indicate that.

i also think the narrative was setting up romantic connotations because it drew an obvious parallel btwn syd & the restaurant as the two/one thing(s) most important in carmy’s life. when carmy’s getting distracted by claire, syd is inbetween every shot of them, whether sydney is at the restaurant or by herself, or by herself doing stuff for the restaurant—

and even down to the way claire represents carmy’s past and is painted narratively in strict contention/competition with syd for carmy’s time & attention! the first time we see that girl, she clearly still thinks the restaurant is named the bear (a clear indication of her place in his past, & the adjustments & commitment tht wld be necessary to make her part of his present/future)

and especially the table scene—when sydney says she isn’t jealous, it’s not really hard to believe that she was lying: we’ve already seen that she doesn’t always say what she means, i.e. with marcus: she’s clearly still feeling awkward w him after he tried to ask her out, but tries to overcome it bc the beef comes first!

like you’re saying men you know are jealous of the relationships u have w ur coworkers—marcus is right on the edge of being jealous about sydney’s devotion to carmy. it’s not necessarily explicitly written that way, but it’s also not super duper far fetched.

but anyways, the romance itself isn’t even hidden forreal. carmen tells this girl—who is devoted to his cause, his family restaurant and all the burdens it carries—“you deserve all my attention, all my time. i can’t do this without you—i wouldn’t even want to. i’m sorry.”

in every other context ever, and on paper—that’s a fucking love confession!

and the way he says he wouldn’t even want to; carmy has such a complex relationship with the art and technicality of cooking, and i think syd really reminds him that it’s something he’s meant to enjoy. it’s something that he does genuinely enjoy, even if he has to dig past the pools of sorrow & resentment that live in him to do. especially because there’s all that sorrow & resentment in him; he has to learn to enjoy not just cooking, but his own day to day life.

like people come damaged. and before they really get into the romance, i’d love for carmy to have some amazing character development! (we’re calling them a slow burn for a reason.) but even the way syd deals with him now is very romantic. bc it’s not necessarily her dealing with him; it’s a partnership. this guy (carmen) goes and buys syd a $2k chef’s uniform that’s pristine and pretty and makes her look even more angelic than she did before—he knows her size and everything?? the guy from pretty woman did that shit and it’s regarded as one of the best romance movies of all time.

not to even mention the panic attack. the stiles/lydia memories hit me like a fucking truck & i loved every second of it.

also! it’s kind of interesting how carmy thinks of claire in these romantic pictures, she herself is never really doing or saying anything; she’s just there (besides maybe her hair blowing in the wind). meanwhile, carmy thinks of syd in memories, in dialogue, in action. he thinks back to the beginning of her, when she first enters his life like a ray of sunshine, and i think that’s a way to acknowledge the way she’s added so much to his life in such a short amount of time. sydney is his rock! she keeps him grounded in a way not even this girl he’s been obsessed with (supposedly) for years can.

anyways, the narrative analysis aside—they look cute together, they act cute together, & i’ve seen romances built on far less than what seasons 1 and 2 have already propped up between/for them :3

#the bear s2 spoilers #the bear season 2 #sydcarmy #sydcarmy discourse

37 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

drjuliaogden

How Fascinating!

itssomething

it's sure something

coffeestudying

coffee while studying

epifaniaperenne

luckyspike

love yourself, the rest will follow